A pale light flooded through curtains that swayed softly in the breeze that blew through an open window. Slowly the sun was rising in the east, waking the world from its nightly slumber. But not all were to wake that morning...The gentle sound of birdsong could be heard, but nothing more than that. There was silence outside of the little flat. No car drove along the busy road, no person made a sound on the street below. There was just a complete silence. The room above the normally busy street was a bedroom. In the middle of the room a bed sat, with two lumps underneath a thick goose feather duvet. It was clear that one was male and the other female. The female stirred between the sheets, her head resting on the soft pillow, her hair fanned out around her head like a bizarre halo of some sort. The male was resting on his side, hair tousled, body completely relaxed. Both looked peaceful, in their slumber, but one was to never open their eyes again. Mia Roberts would be the one to wake into a world that had been destroyed by chaos and torn apart by one country's greed. Mia would never be the same again, her DNA had altered and yet she was totally unaware of this fact. Her world was just about to be turned upside down without a hope of it ever being restored...

Coughing into her hand, Mia Roberts moaned gently, not wanting to open her eyes. Her head was pounding, her body ached and all she could remember was the intense pain she had suffered over the last three days. She remembered vomiting blood, the foul taste on her tongue, the bile burning the back of her throat. Headaches that made it impossible for her to even raise her head above the pillow. A fever that had caused her to go hot and cold constantly and even more frightening was temperature she had reached. Had she gotten too drunk on her birthday? Had she eaten something that was off? No, this was more than a hangover and far more than slight food poisoning. Hadn't she heard a radio broadcast on the way to the venue? Something about a deadly disease causing havoc in Korea...

And today the Korean leader announced that throughout Korea a deadly waterborne disease has been released by his top scientist. The idea was that this would cull some of the growing population his country with relative ease. The disease is said to be contracted through the intake of water in certain areas and it is deadly. It kills within hours, if you're lucky then days. Uproar has risen throughout many of the other countries, most who have threatened to go to war over the matter, if the Korean leader doesn't, and I quote, 'pull the plug' on this extreme plan to stop the population growing. We've literally just had a report in two minutes ago that announces that...

Mia had switched the radio off at that point. She'd arrived at the venue and although she wanted to hear more, she was being tugged out of the car by various relatives. If she had continued to listen to the broadcast she would have heard the broadcaster announce that it was thought to have gone airborne and had been spread further than anyone first thought. And so she carried on with her life, going to her party and having an amazing time among friends and family. So what had happened? Without opening her eyes, she began to recall the events of the night. She had felt faint, before being sick. The family laughed it off, putting it down to too much alcohol. But Mia had known at the time that wasn't what it was. She had never felt this bad and she knew she had only had a few glasses of wine. Harry had lifted her into his broad arms, kissed her forehead and carried her to the car. Luckily he hadn't had anything to drink and was perfectly safe to drive. Once home, she had been placed in bed and told to sleep it off. However, later that night she heard Harry being sick in the bathroom that joined onto the bedroom. So it wasn't the alcohol. It must have been that disease they were talking about! Deadly they said?! I'm sure that they just over-exaggerate things on the news to make us scared! I'm most definitely alive. And I know Harry is because I heard him moving only last night...

Suddenly her mind flickered to Harry. She could feel him beside her; the duvet was slightly crooked as he'd pulled it off her, like he did sometimes in the night. Forcing her eyes open, she winced as she hauled herself up onto her elbow to look at him. Her throat had never felt so dry. She groped for the water that sat beside her bed. Everything she did caused her body to scream in protest. Every muscle she moved was completely agony and her head felt as though a herd of horses were galloping through her mind. Every movement sent pain shooting up her legs or arms or whatever limp she moved. What had happened to her? Why did it even hurt when she breathed too deeply? She couldn't understand it...Gulping down the water, it seemed to ease the burning sensation for a little while, but she knew it would return. This was no ordinary flu, she realised in an instant. Perhaps it was deadly in the sense that it caused the victim intense agony, so much so that they could barely move without it hurting them. But she would worry about that later. She had to make sure Harry was alright and had recovered as well.

Placing a hand over his arm, on top of the duvet, she shook him gently. "Harry," She whispered her voice still croaky, despite the massive intake of water. "Harry wake up. I'm feeling better now. Are you alright?" No answer. She tried again. "Harry, come on. Wake up sweetheart. Let me see those gorgeous eyes of yours." She shook a little harder, a faint smile on her lips. Harry did not even stir between the sheets. Frowning, Mia moved her hand beneath the duvet, shaking at his arm. It was deathly cold, like ice. Blinking, she shook her head, refusing to accept what she had just felt. "Harry! Wake up now! Harry please! You're scaring me! Stop it! Stop messing around!" The note of hysteria in her voice betrayed what her head already knew, but her heart was unwilling to accept it. Tears cascaded down her pale cheeks, as she continuously shook her head, shaking Harry even more fiercely than before. "No, no, no!" She shrieked at the top of her voice, clinging to his arm madly. "Please no!" Harry's other arm fell limply off the side of the bed, dangling hopelessly beside him. That clenched it for Mia, he was gone. He was dead. A scream forced its way from her lips, as she pulled away from him, hands over her mouth. Her face was drenched with the bitter salty tears that leaked from her beautiful eyes.

An instant reaction told her to grasp the phone that also sat beside her bed. She fumbled with it for a few moments before dialling the emergency number. Pressing it to her ear, she tried to compose herself so that the person on the other end would understand her. But all she got was a continuous beeping noise. The phone line was dead. A frustrated scream left her lips as she hauled the phone across the room. It hit the opposite wall, smashing. Burying her head in her hands she continued to sob, her body shaking. It was deadly. The disease was deadly. So why was she alive? How had she survived? Harry was dead, it had killed him. She was sure of it. But how was she alive?

Madeline looked peaceful, lying in her huge four poster bed covered with heaps of feather filled duvets. If only that total peace could last just a little longer. If only she didn’t have to face the terrible times to come. She rolled over and whimpered slightly as she began to wake, and the light flooded through her closed eyelids. The house was silent, not like the usual hustle and bustle of the cleaners starting their days work. Madeline slowly opened her emerald green eyes and wandered if she had woken early, and then it all came painfully flooding back. She had starting get ill a few days ago, her mother had called in her usual carer to work longer than usual so that Madeline would not have to leave her bed till she was better. She could remember slowly getting worse, beginning with sickness and hot flushes and then periods of violent shivers. Then the pain began, Madeline soon became unaware of her surroundings and had spent hours at a time screaming in agony, crying out for help. But they stopped coming. Why had they left her? Sometimes when her own crying subsided she had remembered other screams coming from her house, but was never sure if she was imagining it.

Madeline winced at the memory of such unimaginable pain flooding the whole her weak body. Except of course from the waist down which she had not felt since her spinal injury. She felt better now, although the headache was still pounding. Looking around she squinted at what seemed like too much colour, too bright.

‘Mum!! Dad!! I’m better!!!’ Madeline shouted. But once again she was only greeted by silence.
‘MUM!!! DAD!!!?’ Madeline frowned as there was still no reply, they should be rushing to her bedside, didn’t they care that she was better? She wanted a drink as her throat was dry, and she was hungry. She would ask for breakfast in bed this morning Madeline thought.
‘Someone!!! I want a drink!!! I’ve been ill!! Why on earth are you ignoring me!!!! ?’ Madeline was angry now, she sat up wearily. Her wheelchair was nearby, and she reached for it. All of a sudden something made her jump. Did her legs just move? Momentarily forgetting about the strange silence, Madeline tried to move her legs. It worked!! They felt shaky, but they were definitely working, overwhelmed by excitement Madeline pushed away her covers and turned to the side so that her legs were dangling over the edge. Could she walk? Madeline tried to stand, and although she was still weak, and her headache was still pounding she managed to stand. A wide grin spread across Madeline’s face, she was cured!! After all these years of being confined to a wheelchair she could walk!!! Her mother would be so pleased and she could become a model after all! Then it all came flooding back to her, so suddenly she had to sit on the edge of her bed again. The Disease. The disease that had made her mother frantically call around all of the families private doctors to no avail. And then Madeline got ill, and her mother had cried like she had never cried before. Now there was silence, surely... No they couldn’t have gotten ill! And then Madeline remembered hearing the other screams once more.

Her heart began to pound. She stood up, and attempted to take a step. This worked fine and soon, albeit shakily she walked out of her room, calling their names over and over until her throat burned, but she still did not stop shouting. She eventually reached her parents room, and warily opened their door. ..

She was greeted by a terrible sight, she gasped as she heard screaming. The terrible chilling sounds were her own screams, escaping her parched mouth. Though, she was no longer aware of that burn in her throat. Her screaming would not stop, and her tears flowed freely down her sickly pale face...

Katherine Wilson had never been the healthiest of children, but when she had taken sick not long after her father had returned from a business trip to Korea, it had been much worse than usual.

At first, it had puzzled the doctors treating her. Why should this young girl be coughing up blood, her small frame wracked with shudders for hours at a time, when everyone around her was perfectly fine? She'd certainly traveled abroad before, but not recently, and there was no reason for her to become so suddenly, so violently, ill.

The first news broadcast hit a day later, and Katherine's suffering only increased with the knowledge that it would likely not be long before her entire family and those kind doctors all succumbed to the same wasting illness.

Sometimes, she hated being right.

Her father, her beloved Daddy, was the first to lose his battle, doubtless helped along by the guilty knowledge that he had brought the disease into his own household. Katherine's mother, the sweet and lovely woman that hardly seemed to age was brought down by the coughing fits, and lost the radiance in death that so seemed to cling to her in life.

As terrible, as awful and heart-wrenching as this was, Katherine reassured herself that at least her sister, Elizabeth, would survive. Liz was strong, she was vivacious, she was beautiful. Everything that Katherine knew she wasn't. So it wasn't until Liz was wheeled into Katherine's room to say goodbye that the youngest member of the Wilson family broke.

"Kit," Liz whispered hoarsely, reaching to grasp her sibling's hand, "you're still alive. You're going to make it." Her tone was happy, but something in it was resigned as well. Kit sensed this, and panicked.

"No, Liz, don't say that! You'll live, we both will! We have to! You... you can't... you can't leave me. Not... please not you, too...." Kit's protests soon dissolved into sobs; what room was there for hope when everything she knew and loved was falling apart around her?

"Kit, listen to me," Liz implored, and her ever-dutiful sister obeyed. "You are strong. Stronger than you think. You have to live, for all of us. I know you never thought you were good enough at anything, but I want you to know that I am more proud of you than I've ever been of anything in the world. Mom and Dad were proud too. Promise me that you'll live, and keep on going. I want you to promise that every year, on this day, you'll play that song for me, the one you wrote for my birthday."

"Liz..." Kit protested weakly.

"Promise me, Kit." her sister's tone, soft as it was, brooked no argument.

"I promise." There was one last squeeze on her hand, and then Liz went limp, and Kit dissolved into tears.

It was only when she woke from a grief-induced coma a few months later, that she was to discover one more curse, and one blessing. The disease had robbed her of her sight, but it had spared her family's butler, Norman, who kit had always regarded as a grandfather. Not all was lost. But... Promise me, Kit.

I promise. I'll live... for all of us.

Before and During the Illness.

Eris Becker lay sprawled out on her torn, 1980’s vintage couch, positioned in front of the very old television (2005) she bought at a Good Will for a steal. It was turned off, for she never really watched TV much, expect for America’s Most Wanted which she had made several premieres on. Eris’ right leg hung over the side while her other was tucked behind her head. Her long frame took up the whole length of the couch, feet putting pressure on the armrest opposite of her head. She was in a white t-shirt and some men briefs (more comfortable than a thong, she believed). The temperature in her cabin was scorching, which was very odd for where she lived, high up in the mountains. “Some crazy heat wave,” she murmured to herself, pressing the back of her hand to her forehead, collecting tiny beads of sweat. Today she wanted to go hiking through the trails, maybe hunt a couple of deer or rabbit. Yet, when she woke up this particular morning, she felt off. The same way she began to feel before she would get real sick. Having to give up medical trips went along with being a wanted criminal, so she had to lay low. Which meant ride out every illness till they pass. Eris was lucky that she was an overall very healthy woman, but no one is perfect.

I must be getting pretty fucking sick, she cursed, never seeing it that strange that she talked out loud to herself. Getting out of bed was more than a struggle that morning. She couldn’t even change out of her night wear into an outfit for the day. It was obvious she was going to spend her enitre day on the couch in bitter, hungry annoyance.

As the time passed though and it hit mid afternoon, what seemed like a normal flu turned into a full blown body hell. Eris Becker was smart, a genius in fact, even if she was just as much crazy. The quiet crazy type. She didn’t need to have anyone else around or a doctor to tell her this was no ordinary illness. Running through her mind of anything it could possibly be, she could think of nothing, or what on Earth could of caused it. She hadn’t had anything rotten to eat, or been around a city population to catch something. She was trying to hold the pain she felt in as best she could, biting down on her lip. Showing pain, admitting that she is weak, pissed her off the most. This whole experience was a slap in the face, for there was nothing that she could do to make herself feel better. She was convinced that even the euphoric rush she got from watching someone bleed couldn’t make her feel any better. That was saying a whole, whole lot. Her legs soon enough began convulsing in waves, unable to control the shakes. And it was so unbearably hot.

The heat combined with the headaches and seizure shakes was making Eris delusional. Forget talking to herself now, she was talking to an empty room, expecting answers. As she gripped a blanket, she wasn’t sure if she was going to make it. “Tell me this will end tomorrow, TELL ME!” she cried in broken shrieks, gasping for air in between sobs. Her skin was too on fire to absorb any miniscule air whatsoever to her her off. Day one of this disease ended in Eris passing out on her couch, surrounding by torn pillows and broken glass from throwing everything in the cabin around to try and feel better. Nothing worked.

Day two consisted of even more screaming, this time for help. Help to the nothingness around that could hear her. She managed to roll off the side of the couch, crawling as if a toddler all over again to her bedroom, avoiding some, but not all, of the broken shards of glass on the floor that once made up her cup set. Who needed cups anyway when they were experiencing hell inside oneself? It took her almost two hours to muster up the will to stretch her muscles enough to climb her bed. Eris was unbelievably toned, so for her to doubt her capability to pick herself up made her frightful. “Help... please,” she whispered, rolling on top of her sheets, face up, glaring at the ceiling. She passed out that night in more pain than Day one.

Day Three. The final day of her suffering. She woke up, or at least she hoped she did. This, after all, was what death must of felt like. Maybe she slipped in the shower a couple days ago and died, and she was just now realizing it. There was no more screaming going on this morning. Her throat was in lockdown after yelling in agony during her sleep. Her eyelids shivered as the pain ran up and down her spine, through her veins, into the very breath she took. It wasn’t until the sun rose around 8 am that she came to turns she was still alive. It blasted through her cabin window like a beam from heaven itself, if there was such a thing. Almost regretting the fact that she was indeed still alive. She didn’t know how much longer she could handle living life like this. Death seemed more convenient. The delusions only started to get worse as her chest raised up and down heavily. Her ceiling was so bright, so incredibly bright. Her hands that had been tearing at the sheets all night were still bleeding softly.

“God!” she pleaded, as if she really believed in one, and right now she was convinced God did exist. This had to be punishment for her sins, for all her sick, sick sins. Yet what she was experiencing seemed like more pain than any of the 30 people combined that she had killed in her past. Her pain was more, it had to have been. “God, please forgive me! It was the anger inside of me! You saw what my father did to my mother and I, You SAW! He made me this way!!” she begged, glaring at her heavenly ceiling as if she could see God crossing his arms at her. She promised at that moment to the Almighty, her One and Only, that she would forsake her ways. Stop her killings. Make right in the world! As long as he let her live, to stop the pain. And He answered.

It was on the third evening of the third day of being struck up by the disease that it rapidly began subsiding. Thank the Lord, His will had been done! She believed this deeply, to her core. She was saved, and she knew she had been heard. All of her energy returned once again, and strange enough she was feeling almost better than before. Eris Becker got down on her hands and knees and kissed her folded palms, then raised her head to the ceiling she had been talking to that morning. “I will keep my promise,” she smiled devilishly, but meaning in all truth what she was saying. After all, if God saved her from this, and she broke her promise, what would stop Him from striking her down then and there. She finally had the strength to shower after three days, which was much needed because sweat and blood don’t smell too good together. The water in her shower made her feel cleansed. She sang loudly as she scrubbed herself down, singing made up Holy hymns like, “Thank you for saving my ass, la dee dah,” and her favorite so far, “God gave me hell, He gave me life, now the devil shall rest aside.” The latter was an eerie premonition, to say the least, for her inner devil was indeed at rest.

It wasn’t until she finally looked in the mirror that she finally noticed something had changed about her. She was putting on a pair of jeans and a t-shirt when she made eye-contact with her reflection. What she saw made her falter, tripping back a few steps in shock. Her eyes were the color of red. And though it was evening on this Third Day, and the sun had set an hour ago, she could see everything in her dark room clearly. Like fucking night vision, she thought to herself. Did the illness she had cause this change? Was there anything else it caused? This was just weird, and she was in no mood for making her confusion even more complex. “Television!” she yelled, as if hoping that might turn her brain to mush long enough for her nerves to settle down. Eris ran into the cabin’s main room, hopping around the broken glass on the floor and then landing like a plop on her old couch. She turned the TV on, flipping it fast through the stations. She skipped to CNN news first, for keeping somewhat updated on the current events was necessary when one lived in the mountains alone. What she saw didn’t turn her brain to mush, only made her jaw drop wider. What she had just experienced had not only hit her, but the WHOLE world. The caption that flashed across the screen said BILLIONS DEAD FROM KOREAN DISEASE! The solo new anchor looked as if he had been crying, and talking as if he was completely alone. He even threw in a few cuss words as he reported. This had to be real. He noted there was very were survivors that had let themselves be known. Those very few millions had banded together in a place called Exodar, seeking companionship and answers. Her new found Faith only grew at word of this. God had only chosen a small amount of humans to survive this, and she out of all people was one of them! “How amazing!” she giggled, strangely collected at the realization that so many people died. That didn’t bother her one bit at all.

“I will go to Exodar, and find my own answers!” she cheered, patting herself on the back before jumping off the couch again. It took her a very short time to back up a duffle bag of her favorite weapons (she couldn’t find the heart to abandon them) and some clothes. After a quick PBandJ sandwhich, she hopped in her car and began her long, mountainous journey to the nearest airport she could find on her GPS.

Eris Becker’s adventure begins as she arrives at the airport. Scattered people, all complete strangers, were collecting in circles with what little belongings they had. These others must have also seen the news and had the same idea as her to find a flight out of the US to go to Exodar, where ever the hell that place was. Luckily a pilot had survived the disease and was waiting around for enough people to fill his one plane before taking off. Eris had made it there on time it appeared, “Thanks again God!” No one checked her duffle bag of weapons. No one cared. Security guards were out of the question. Of course those dumb bastards wouldn’t survive. Eris made her way on the place with ease, sliding her bag in the overhead compartment. She sat down in her chair against the plane’s window, watching as everyone filed in on the plane. This would be a long, long ride, she thought. And it was.

Flames crackled into the night sky, seeming to eat at the stars and blackness above. Sparks flew as, little by little, the building began to fall. Somewhere in the warehouse, grass shattered under pressure and emitted a loud piercing noise, but despite its loud protest, the shattering of the glass was barely heard over the roar of the fire and responding groaning of the dying building. Amunet watched for hours as the warehouse slowly disappeared, turning into ash and blowing away. No one came to stop it. After all, the warehouse had already been secluded, but now that millions of people had died, the rest of them probably had other problems to take care of then a fire out of the city limits. She wasn't worried either. She knew the fire would not spread. She had spent hours and hours throughout the day cutting down surrounding weeds enough to where the fire could not catch onto anything else dry and spread farther.

So, there she stood, close enough to the flames for the heat to sear the tears off of her cheeks. She thought back to when she and her sister had first gotten sick. They had struggled and struggled and finally found shelter in this abandoned warehouse in the middle-of-nowhere. They were too weak to take care of themselves or each other, so for days, they had starved, cuddling up to each other for warmth and comfort. Finally, they both went unconscious. It was a relief, a chance to rest in their discomfort. When they woke again, Amunet had felt strong enough to search for food. She found enough to feed the two of them, barely, and gave most of the food to Isis, in hopes she would start to get stronger too...

But as Amunet's strength slowly returned, Isis' slowly disappeared. It was as if there was only enough strength left between them for one person to live, and that energy was being fed into Amunet. Finally, after a long struggle, length of time unknown, Isis called Amunet to her side. Amunet knelt beside her and offered her hand. Isis tugged at it weakly, her fingers barely strong enough to hold on, and Amunet knelt forward. Isis kissed her forehead and whispered into her ear...I love you...Her last breathy sigh sounded before Amunet even had time to pull back and look into her face.

She began to shake, her face an void of emotion. Tears began to spill silently down her cheeks as she pulled Isis into her lap. Clutching the cold body to her chest, she began to rock back and forth, back and forth. Finally, she found her voice, and a pained, horrible moan erupted from behind her lips. She couldn't stop, the tears or the moaning or the rocking, and every sound of her movement echoed throughout the empty warehouse, mocking her. She cried and wept and mourned over the dead body of her sister for two days, and one the third day, she looked down into her twin's peaceful face and stood. Deadened, she had gone about preparing the warehouse for burn.

Now, as she looked on, her tears were silent. Subconsciously, she began to sing an Egyptian lullaby the two of them had cherished from the recesses of their memories. She sang gently, interrupted every once and a while by the hiccups of her sobs. Her sister was burning with the warehouse, burning on her own funeral pyre, as royal as any queen. When the building finished burning, her ashes would be blown by the wind, carrying her to the lands they could never visit and to the people they could never see together. Then, at last, the ashes would be blown back, so her beautiful twin sister could watch over her in death.

Amunet stood their until it was done, until not even a single burning ember was left. Then, she calmly wiped the tears away from her face. She couldn't be weak anymore. If there was only enough strength in between the two of them for one person, she would be stronger and better. She would be her sister. Reaching down, she snatched up the golden staff, the only thing left from her family, and she walked away. She may have a long way to go, but she was going to destroy the murderers of the world. They would pay for what they had done.

The last few days were somewhat cloudy too little Scarlett, she remembered when she first got ill. She cried a lot as her little body shook and convulsed. Her mother had carried her all the way to the hospital as the roads were gridlocked with people fighting to get to either the hospital or other loved ones. But on arrival her mother turned and ran right back, for the suffering was more than any little girl should see. She remembered bodies, some lying lifeless while others screamed and shook on the ground. Her mother had gotten the brief attention of a nurse who shook her head and commanded her mother to take her home. And then Scarlett remembered her mother telling her to close her eyes. Perhaps she had hoped Scarlett would be protected from such a sight. But closing her eyes, hadn’t stopped the images and the terrible screaming. Then, her mother began getting sick, too.

Back at the house vaguely remembered more convulsions, and more violent shaking. She couldn’t remember being put into her bed, but she could remember her mother lying next to her. Her mother was praying frantically, trying too sooth the little Scarlett all the while getting weaker and weaker herself. Though the soothing did little good when Scarlett was being showered by her mother’s endless tears of sorrow and despair. She also remembered long periods of blackness. Then her mother was getting weaker, fighting to stay alive for her daughter. Her mother’s arm became limper and limper but she stifled her own screams of pain. Scarlett also fought to be strong, but she was so scared. More scared than she would ever be again, for her mother’s comforting words were getting quieter and weaker, some made no sense at all, and sometimes Scarlett would fall limp and then her mother would muster the strength to shake her. And she would be awake again just for the same thing to happen over and over.

As the hours went on, they clung to each other. It was as though her mother was giving all of the life she had in her to the thing she loved so much more than her own life, and as Scarlett got slightly better her mother’s life drained away. Scarlett was much more aware of her surrounding, though not any stronger.

Her mother managed laboriously to wrap her arms around her daughter’s tiny frame and whisper ‘Find others... I’ll see you in heaven.’
Scarlett remember being weakly frantic.

‘Don’t leave me mum, please don’t leave me. You said you would never leave me.’ Scarlett cried again and again.

‘Mummy has to rest... I love you’ And with that Scarlett’s beloved mother died.

Norman Winter was not the sort of man who allowed himself to be seen suffering. So when the disease hit him, it was quite a while before anyone could even guess. Even then, he fought it tooth-and-nail, refusing to submit to the wracking shudders or the fever-induced delirium that held those around him so easily in its sway.

He had not escaped death so many times to lose to something like this.

When George Wilson called Norman into his hospital room, the man had enough sense left to be surprised that the elderly butler was still up and walking. Norman just shook his head when the man inquired after it, and it was dropped in lieu of more important matters; namely, Wilson's family. George Wilson wasn't a stupid man. He knew that his business rip to Korea had brought the disease back to his wife and children, and he knew that it would more than likely kill them all. Still, there was a hopefulness to the man's demeanor that Norman could never have replicated, one that demanded he continue to behave as though at least one of them would survive.

"Norman," George said, his tone striving for businesslike but unable to come out as much more than a harsh croak. "I want... to transfer your contract."

Norman felt an inward twinge of regret. George Wilson was among the best of men; it was for this reason and only one other that one of the best agents the British Secret Service had ever seen had been willing to take an early retirement to work for the man. Over his nearly twenty years of service, Norman had come to not only respect George and Angelina, but to look upon them as friends, of a sort, and their daughters as his own grandchildren. While Elizabeth had been a little old for that sort of psychology to take too firm a hold, he sometimes wondered if Katherine knew that he really wasn't. For George to be asking him this meant that the man truly knew he was going to die.

"Very well, sir," Norman said aloud, trying to give George the semblance of normalcy he was striving for.

The younger man smiled, and nodded. "From this day forth, you are to offer your services as outlined in our contract to any of my surviving family members. If- if they should all-" George sent him an imploring look, and Norman nodded to show he understood what the other man could not say. "Then you shall be free to do whatever you wish with my estate and holdings. The guest house is already yours; I had the lawyers by this morning." There was a pause. "Norman, I want you to know that after all this time, I can hardly think of you as my butler or even my bodyguard. I still don't really understand why you made that offer, or why you didn't take any of the employment offers that my rivals gave you, but you should know that I'm grateful for it. Knowing that you will be there to watch over them... it makes letting go just a little easier. Thank you... old friend." George's eyes closed, and Norman knew he was no more.

"No... it is I who must thank you... old friend." Norman stood, and promptly collapsed onto the ground, the sickness at last refusing to let him carry on as usual.

When he woke, Madam Angelina and Miss Elizabeth had joined their husband and father. Miss Katherine still clung to life, though she had been the first to fall ill. Somehow, that seemed like a good sign to Norman, and he privately thanked whichever among other people's deities might be watching that at least she would survive. Norman wasn't an emotional man, but he was self-aware enough to admit that her death would have been the hardest to deal with. Poor little Katherine, who never thought she was good enough, but whose naive, gentle smile seemed to put even the most hard-hearted of people (such as himself) at ease.

And so he waited the days it took her to recover, trying to figure out how to break the news that she would be unable to see again. The one surviving doctor at the hospital had informed him of this before taking off, doubtless to grieve or find some semblance of life. The empty hospital continued to run on its backup generator, and Norman continued to keep a vigilant watch by the last Wilson's bedside. Their journey would not be easy, that much he knew. He would take her back to the Wilson Estate in Exodar, he decided. There, he would teach her how to survive without her eyesight, and ponder the new changes in himself that sometimes had him hearing things that people were not actually saying, or that had sharpened his vision and hearing to levels he had not seen even at his prime.

Many things were changing, but Norman vowed to himself that two things would not: he would not stop protecting his charge, and she would not know him as anything more than a grandfatherly butler.

Cain stood silently, watching a piece of junk drift across the clogged streets of Exodar. Once these streets had been filled with roaring cars and the bustle of life. Now they were still filled but with the silent cars and clustered, decaying corpses of those who got lucky and died quickly, on the very streets of the once great city. Some people had even succumb in their cars, moving from place to place. The chaos just those few brought was merely a foreshadowing of what was to come. Hundreds, thousands began to collapse on the streets in pain. Some managed to find their ways home or to any available place and collapse there. Although the disease, the plague, didn't hit just like that. It began gradually, deaths here and there. People thinking it was just minor, a particularly bad strain of cold or something, continuing their lives. Spreading death to everyone they touched. Cain was one of the forerunners though, contracting the plague about a day before other cases had begun being reported.

He thought back to the days before, the weekend on the east coast. His father's house on the beach. The winds had been blowing strongly from the east, over from the fringes of the continent. It was a pleasant time with his slightly gruff, ex-sailor father. The day he left they had both reported feeling poorly, queasy, like food poisoning and yet hot and feverish. Smith senior put it down to the fish the night before and continued without and deliberation on the subject. However, Cain did not think so and avoided the other people on the number 65 bus from an obscure stop on a country road into the thick of Exodar's Chaos. The same day it was reported that the disease released in Korea, of which the large 19 year paid no attention to, was certainly and undoubtedly spread across the Asia. The flights were blocked, shipments stopped short of docking, and quarantine was issued on a people who had just arrived. It was already too late in hindsight, the disease had already become airborne. A few hours of re-entering his apartment the stomach ache had escalated to abominable levels and Cain's head felt like it would explode from the inside. Somehow he braced himself and managed to ring someone. Everything was blurry as Cain moaned the words into the receiver before falling from consciousness.

Comatose for the next few days the man didn't know a thing until he awoke in the white environs of a hospital. His return to life was a shock to every staff member, a number of cases like his had poured in over the following days. Filling every space the building had to offer. Many other suffers didn't even make it as long as Cain, the others didn't respond to treatment as Cain hadn't. It seemed everyone contracting this mysterious and deadly plague had no chance of surviving. Yet Cain Smith not only survived, but recovered. Despite pleading with the higher ups the first known survivor was discharged in order to accommodate the heavy influx of dying and suffering. Cain returned to his apartment, aimless for it was reported that all businesses were to be closed. Shopping malls and convenience stores shut and the radio station was restricted to either encouraging music or news. Soon after it was announced that even they were to be shut down, along with power stations and the city of Exodar dropped into a blackout of blitz proportions. After that all that remained was for the shielded man to watch the world around him die.

Eris fell asleep with her head against the cool glass window of the plane. Everyone there was pretty silent. No family members, no friends that came together. Everyone lost someone and they were all strangers. Silence only made sense. What finally woke Eris up from her rest was a kick from behind her chair. Her eyes opened in a snap, then narrowed. There had been a kid behind her, though she wasn’t sure how he managed to get to the airport. He meant nothing of it... probably just bored, she had to tell herself, as if trying to reason not making anything of it. She was still sleep though, they had been on the plane for hours. She lost tack of how many now.

She looked out the window into the night sky, and though the only light came from the moon, Eris could see fairly well from way up here. Currently the plane was flying over the Atlantic Ocean headed towards Exodar. The ocean was bright, and tiny shadows could be seen swimming underneath the water’s surface. She rubbed her eyes, still in awe over what was going on with all her senses. Vision was enhanced better than it ever was before, almost like a superpower. That was a silly thought though, there couldn’t really be people were super senses. Then it hit her. The disease that North Korea spread into the world could have been some heavy form of radiation that altered their bodies, causing weird side effects... Would her red eyes wear off back to normal over time? In a way she hoped because so far she had received several uncomfortable stares. People would look at her then look away, as if afraid to make eye contact. She wanted to start a new purpose in life of non violence, and this was certainly making it more difficult to convince herself she wasn’t evil. The red irises were getting to her, swaying her. I certainly fit the image of a badass killer now, she thought. It made her smile slightly, but she realized this and shook her head, as if trying to erase the idea.

Over the plane intercom the pilot came on and spoke, “Attention passengers. We will be at our destination by tomorrow morning.”

This piece of information was pointless. Obviously they were still over an ocean, he could have waited a few more hours. She was now becoming bored, restless in her crammed seat. Maybe a walk to the bathroom would help stretch her muscles. Eris stood up from her chair, maneuvering around the sleeping person to her left. They didn’t make a sound even though she bumped them slightly. The kid that was in the chair behind her glanced up, meeting her eye to eye. He didn’t seem afraid of her though. That made Eris feel a bit better, sending the boy a tiny smile then began to walk down the isle to the bathroom in the back of the plane. Little did she know the boy had stood up too, following behind her. Before she could open the door, she could feel someone close behind her. Her head jerked around to see yet again that little boy. Now she was getting pissed.

“Is something wrong?” she asked, crossing her arms in an annoyed stance.

“Do you know your eyes are red?” he asked in a squeaky noise that was almost to quiet to hear. Upon hearing what he asked, she rolled her eyes. Wasn’t that the most obvious question? Of course she knew her eyes were red. Eris nodded to him, words for it not even worth the effort.

Then the boy did something that threw her back a step. He smiled devilishly, continuing to speak on, “But did you know they get bright? Like right now, in the dark?” That little smartass. She didn’t know that, and it intrigued her. She opened up the door to the bathroom, but kept the lights off. They were a bright red, lit up even though there was no possible way light could be touching them. Was this the night vision she had been experiencing earlier? It was causing her to see so much clearer, but witnessing the change in her eyes was pretty scary. She covered her mouth, getting closer to the mirror, trying to peer inside these unfamiliar eyes. They were red beads in the darkness. She was scary. She liked being scary. God gave me these eyes. This must be a challenge, of course, yes... A challenge to not fall to temptations, to kill. This must be a constant marking of my past, He doesn’t want me to forget the promise. And with her pumped up speech, she exited the bathroom to see the boy again, still waiting there.

“You are right. They sort of glow, don’t they? Weird,” she said, as if trying to sound uninterested by the fact now. “I’m probably not the only one. There could be others with red eyes, don’t you think?” She knew there probably wasn’t, but the boy didn’t have to know that. He looked too innocent and fragile. For a quick second images of men her age that she had killed flashed through her mind. It was an intense feeling, knowing that those she had killed were probably all at once in their life just like this young, curious boy. She killed them. His small voice broke her concentration. “What is Exodar?” he asked.

“I have no clue, kid. Some sort of meeting ground that the media talked about. Like the fucking chosen city, excuse the language,” she answered in a smile. She reached forward, brush the kid’s cheek with the soft of her hand. Eris then walked back to her chair, getting comfy next to the window once again. The boy did the same, and to Eris’ fortune, he fell asleep quickly. It left her time for herself again. To get lost back in her thoughts. Sleep should be her main priority, but she was distracted. Anxious. Where would she live in this new city?

Her eyes shut a few minutes later, the last though running through her mind-- Morning isn’t coming quick enough. When she would awake, they would be in Exodar. This new life will officially begin.

Mia threw the shovel from her grimy, bloodied hands, after digging for over two hours. She was weak and no matter how hard she tried, digging the hole was impossibly hard. Her knees gave way and she fell beside the grave, closing her eyes, more tears leaking. She had long since realised that no-one was alive in her street. She had knocked on several doors, even opened a few to find cold dead bodies everywhere she went. Making the decision to bury Harry was a hard one, but one she had to make. Leaving him there was simply out of the question. How could she leave his body to rot in the flat? However, she couldn't help everyone on the street. And she most definitely couldn't remain living there, not with so many dead and her partner buried in the back garden. Where would she go? She didn't know. But she couldn't be the only one alive in the whole world. She would find others if she could. And if she couldn't? Well then she had been cursed, though deep down she knew that there were still people out there alive. There just had to be. Getting up, she cast one more glance at the home-made grave, before turning and walking quickly back into the building. She needed to pack. Once inside the flat she grabbed a large rucksack that they'd used for camping once.

"Harry, no don't!" Mia laughed, as he picked her up around the waist. He swung her round, as she giggled like a little girl. "Stop, I'm going to be sick." He laughed, spinning her faster, before his eyes found the pool of water. "No! Don't do it! You're going in with me if you do!"
"Oh yeah?" He asked, walking along the planks, before dumping his load into the clear lake water. Mia screamed before she hit the water with a huge splash. A hearty laugh left Harry's lips, as he shook his head. Out of nowhere, Mia surfaced, grabbing his ankles and pulling him in. Coughing, he surfaced, looking surprised. She grinned, planting a kiss on his lips.

Shaking off the memory, Mia threw some clothes into the bag, more essentials and food. She packed it to the brim with everything that she would need. And just to make sure, she tied a small tent to the front. Rummaging through some more drawers, her hand hovered over Harry's own drawer. She never went in here simply because it was his drawer and she had no right to. But what did that matter now? It didn't...Cautiously; she pulled, opening the door. There was barely anything in there. A few cards and postcards sent from various family members and herself. Documents and papers that didn't seem very important anymore. But two things caught her eye as soon as she opened the drawer. Resting in the far back corner was a small blue, velvet box. A gasp caught in her throat as she reached for it. Her hands were shaking as she opened the lid. More tears fell, when her eyes caught sight of the ring nestled in the silky fabric. It was a simple ring, with one diamond set in platinum. Mia couldn't help it; she took the ring and slipped it on her finger. A perfect fit. And it looked brilliant.

Clearing her throat, she put the ring box in her pocket and picked up the envelope next to it. It had her name on the front. She pocketed that as well, unable to take much more emotion at that moment. Grabbing a few more things, which included photos of her and Harry and her parents as well, she took a last look at the flat, shouldering the backpack as she did, before closing and locking the door. And so her adventure was just starting. But could she really call this an adventure? She wasn't looking forwards to aimlessly wandering the streets to look for strangers that she had no idea existed. Until four days ago, she had an almost perfect life and now it was gone, with no hope of return. Now she was alone. She knew somewhere deep down that her parents were dead, but she couldn't bring herself to visit them. She couldn't deal with that pain. Something deep down told her that they were gone; it was as though she just knew they were no longer there. There was no more danger for them because they weren't there anymore.

Setting off down the street, her eyes were clouded and unfocused. This was not how she imagined her life to be. She had wanted a family and a loving husband and all she got was this. It didn't seem fair. Was this punishment for all the things she did when she was younger? If it was then it seemed slightly extreme. Then her mind returned to the news report. Korea had released this disease to cull their population. Maybe that had gone worldwide. But, what did it matter? No-one would care who released it, just that there were still people alive and searching for others. But right then Mia didn't want to find anyone else. That meant questions and then that meant more pain for her in answering those questions. And she didn't think that was something she could handle right then. But eventually she'd have to accept everything that had happened to her and get on with life. Because that was the only way anyone was going to survive in this new found world.

It had taken a bit longer than the two of them expected for Kit to be ready enough to go to the mansion in Exodar. She still didn't really want to leave the house in London where she had last been with her parents and sister, but she knew it was for the best. Rumor had it that other survivors of the disease were gathering there, and she thought that at least it might be good for the two of them to escape their total solitude.

London had become a wasteland. The streets were empty of all life's indicators, save the yowling and barking of alley cats and stray dogs, many come to their lifestyle not long ago. Still others could be heard inside their houses, trapped. Kit resisted the impulse to try and open every single door, to give the animals at least a chance at survival. She knew it wouldn't help much, and that was assuming she could get into the homes in the first place.

It was an adjustment, getting used to her new sensory input patterns. Her hearing, taste, touch, and smell were impossibly sharp, and sometimes it was easy to forget that she had no sight, such a vivid picture of the world did they present. But then she would try to remember the color of something, and would draw a complete blank, which was always initially a shock. Navigating, too was a challenge. She could generally avoid bumping into things, but actually getting anywhere unfamiliar was difficult without the ability to see where she was going. Norman had been invaluable assistance there, though she still wondered to herself why he was even here. He certainly had no obligation to her that she knew of.

The most curious of the things that had happened to her though, was also the most recent. She had discovered that she could actually discern individual heartbeats, pick out breathing patterns, and feel the body heat of people as much as ten feet away. Intuitively, she linked these things to feelings, and so it was a simple matter to tell where Norman was emotionally at any given moment. Mostly, he was simply... resolved. Determined. A little frustrated. She hadn't tried this on anyone else yet, having met no other person since she woke from her coma, but she had no reason to believe it would work any differently.

Norman himself had admitted to strange occurrences, not the least of which had been discovered when he had casually replied to something Kit had not said aloud. A few more hours of experimentation confirmed that it only worked when Kit tired consciously to make her thoughts known to him, or when they were "loud," which they both supposed was tied to outbursts of emotion. He also seemed to have enhanced senses; though his eyesight was sharp, all the other enhancements were less than hers, which they both supposed was fair trade, given the total darkness that pervaded Kit's world. She had wondered aloud if other people might be experiencing the same things, and they had decided that there was no reason for the two of the to be the only ones. It might make Exodar a risky place to be, but then, could anywhere really be counted on to be safe? Norman supposed that there might at least be some semblance of law in Exodar, since there were enough people. Kit could sense his uncertainty when he said it though, and could only hope that he was right.

The family's private jet was still intact, though how Norman could fly it, his youthful charge could not say. she chose not to ask, however, and merely accepted it as yet another of her butler's many hidden talents. She trusted Norman to the ends of the world and back, so she felt no need to ask any prying questions when he did not volunteer information.

The manservant landed the plane at Exodar's now-empty airport, and the two of them dragged their small bags out into the street. There was a bit more life here, Kit decided, but less noise. People were wandering around, seemingly heedless of each other, though kit was immediately overwhelmed with sensory impressions linked to grief and mistrust. It was enough to make her unsteady on her feet, and she was kept upright only by Norman's steadying hand on her shoulder. "It will be alright, Kitty," he murmured in low tones, and Kit smiled at his use of the old nickname. It reminded her, somehow, that no matter what else, some things were solid, unchanging, reassuring. Right now, Norman was that thing, for her. Thank you, Norman, she thought at him, and he stiffened momentarily before relaxing. these abilities would take some getting used to.

The two of them could not find a functioning car with keys attached, so they were forced to walk the miles to the mansion. Along the way, the two passed fewer people in the city proper, until Kit's senses picked up on a young woman not too far away. Judging from the rustling and slight clinking sound she made as she walked, she carried a rucksack of some kind. To Kit, she seemed like a friendly enough sort, and the girl considered calling out to her, to perhaps get some news, but the emotional readings she was getting off the woman gave her pause. So much grief, as though she had lost her entire world, and recently. Then again... I bet most people have... She was once again thankful for the elderly man at her side. Kit knew she would not have been able to endure without him.

So she decided to leave the woman to her thoughts, and merely nodded and murmured a soft greeting as they passed. Courtesy demanded at least that much of her. She knew it must have been an odd picture: an old man guiding a small girl with a blindfold up a gravel path, both carrying small bags of good, solid make. Then again... maybe, compared to other things, it was not so strange at all...

Amunet sighed. She'd been on the road for quite some time now, and even when she went through towns, she still couldn't find any living soul. She hadn't realized that the affect of the disease had been this drastic. Surely she could find someone who could give her a clue on who caused this madness. She wasn't impatient. she could wait for a long time to carry out her revenge, but...she didn't want anyone else getting to them first. Someone who had devastated this much of the population must have a ton of enemies. Amunet wouldn't mind sharing her revenge with them. She didn't even mind them killing the sole original master-minds of this evil plan, but she wanted some way to harm them, to make them understand their sin. She wanted to at least get one stab at the foundation of her sister's destruction.

It was getting dark. She could detect the little changes in the sky and smell it in the wind. When she first realized her sharpened senses, she'd been against using them, but they were so deeply ingrained in her system that she had no choice. Besides, after she got used to them, it wasn't too bad. It was, in fact, very convenient, but she didn't like knowing the price of her new senses was her sister's life. Looking around, Amunet tried to distract herself by finding somewhere to rest for the night. She hadn't rested in a few days, and she knew she needed to find something to eat at least.

Madeline’s scream’s slowly flowed from that of grief to anger. Why didn’t their doctor save her family?! The emotions building were so much that she thought she would burst. Anger, Sorrow, Fear. And then wound in the fine tapestry of her complicated emotions there was some joy and happiness, her legs worked again. Her mother would be so proud... her mother was dead though. There she was, lying in front of Madeline cold as ice, next to her father equally as cold and lifeless. Her headache began pounding once more, and Madeline began running. Her previous weakness was gone, she had to get away, far away. But first she must pack a bag, she would never return to this house. On hindsight, the house had always been cold, loveless almost. Perhaps it had been inevitable that Madeline would have to leave and find her own way, but not like this. Running back to her room, she grabbed a bag and slung a few items of clothing. Nothing practical, not that Madeline knew what practical was. She grabbed a few items of clothing from her wardrobe; these were mostly fine silks, and velvets. It wasn’t until she turned to leave that she realised she was still in her night cloths. She tried to focus purely on the task at hand, and not look into the future. If she had a future. After dressing in a short dress, one that Madeline considered invaluable, and threw on a cardigan, Madeline left. She ran down the grand hallway, not giving a thought to her live in carer, who must be dead. Madeline did not look back as she left the grand-mansion, that had been her home since the day she was born. It wasn’t until she was at the other end of her road she even realised she was crying.

Considering she had been confined to wheelchair for so many years, she ran with astonishing speed. Madeline had been expecting to be weak, but it seemed like the more upset she got, the faster she ran. She ran without a purpose, barely noticing the empty roads and eerie silence. She just ran, not thinking. It wasn’t until she reached the familiar band of shops that she stopped. Her throat was burning again, she needed a drink. Madeline looked towards the shop, it wasn’t really stealing if it was no longer owned she reasoned. She wasn’t surprised by unlocked door, but then again, nothing was surprising her. She didn’t feel anything, it was like she was just a shell. Entering the shop she tried to ignore that terrible smell coming from somewhere, and heading straight to the drinks section, picking up a can of coke. She proceeded to find something to eat, she settled on a bag of crisps and a chocolate bar. She almost laughed when she thought about what her mother would say if she saw ‘what she was doing to her body’. Well that was all up to Madeline now. Leaving the shop she slumped down on the hard pavement, to eat. Half way through her meal, all the emotions came rushing back. They knocked into her like a physical object, knocking the very breath out of her. She curled into a fetal position, on the cold hard pavement and all the meanness and all the selfishness was gone. Madeline was nothing more than a lost child. Alone in the world, it wasn’t until the crying subsided that she cold here a faint flutter of a heart beat.

“Pst...” the young boy whispered, poking Eris in the shoulder.

It was morning now, and the pilot had just recently warned those on board that he would be landing at the Exodar Airport within the next few minutes. This young boy’s name was Jeremy, age twelve. A nice group of people found him walking the streets alone and dehydrated, and picked him up on their way to the airport. It was pure luck that they found him, or else he would have been dead in days with lack of care or knowledge on how to survive. When he got to the airport, the group he was with and others were gathering outside, talking to a sole pilot. He had been telling his story, and his plans for the future. He would wait until a decent amount of people could get on the plane, then fly to Exodar, and back-- rescuing anyone that would show up at his airport. The boy didn’t have to be smart to know that was a truly honorable thing to do.

Jeremy’s only belonging he had with him was a stuffed animal his parents had given him when he was born, and as he stood by the plane afraid and confused, he gripped on to the neck of Tinkie with all his might. It didn’t hurt Tinkie, and it took the edge off his nerves. Then he saw her arrive. Eris had zipped around the back drive of the airport dock, knowing that if there was going to be people, they would be by the planes. Jeremy watched as her car screeched against the pavement, making everyone draw their eyes over in her direction. But their eyes weren’t that of disgust, but of hope- another survivor had made it! Her car was filthy, clearly not having been washed in years besides occasional rain water. He watched the long legs of a woman appear from the driver’s side door, followed by the rest of her, pushing herself out of the car. Eris’s hair was slicked back in a tight ponytail. She looked kind of angry, eyes covered in dark black makeup and “punk” clothes, so his dad would have said. Upon further inspection (he had amazing eye-sight, after all) he could see directly into her eyes. And it almost took the breath out of him, seeing the red color. No one in his group had mentioned their eyes changing, or if his was a different color. They were all that of browns, blues, or green, but no red... And he had at least seen 15 people or so since the accident. Before she noticed that he was staring at her, he turned away, holding on to Tinkie even tighter.

On the plane when Jeremy realized that this same young woman was sitting in front of him, he saw this as an opportunity. He would watch her, maybe even talk to her if he could muster up the guts to. Maybe even ask her why her eyes were red. As so he did, following her towards the bathroom. Her mood upon first meeting him seemed annoyed, almost even scary, but then she had switched and sweetened towards the end. Like some strange bi-polar disorder (his mother has always had it) except effecting her emotion extremely fast. Jeremy wouldn’t be so confused if he knew she was actually crazy, and that crazy people can have crazy moods. He never got to really ask her why her eyes were red, but she obviously didn’t want to talk to him. The soft brush on his cheek from Eris made him feel slightly more comforted though. He walked back to his chair behind her, then fell asleep.

He woke up around 4 AM. Everyone on the plane was asleep except for maybe two or three, Jeremy including himself. Eris was asleep in front of her. And so he sat quietly, switching his stares from her to the window and back until the pilot had finally said they would be there in a few short minutes. He poked her immediately. “Pst....”

*

Eris stirred and moved in her uncomfortable plane seat as best she could. She felt the slight pressure of force on her shoulder. It had to be that same boy from the night. She turned around to look at him.

“What? she sighed, sounding as if she was still sleeping, and wishing that she really was. Social interaction was certainly not her forte. The boy informed her that they were about to land. If she was going to allow one thing to wake her up, it would be for solely that. If he had said anything else, like “your eyes are red” again, she would probably see to it that the stuffed bear in his lap would be ripped to shreds. Just saying.

“Thanks for letting me know, kid,” she muttered, then turned back around. The overweight man next to her was awake now, eating a huge bag of potato chips. Some of the crumbs were landing of his shirt and then going on to her arm rest. It was disgusting. He was disgusting. But he is also lucky, because she gave up killing as if it was a thing in her past, and usually disgusting men were the first to go. She closed her eyes, trying to block out his smell which was foul, like he hadn’t showered in days. The plane landed eventually, almost muffled by the huge crunch sound coming from his chips. Finally.

Everyone got off the plane in a slow shuffle. They were in no rush, this wasn’t like a vacation trip any of them were planning. It was almost like a flight to a new life for all of them, in a new unfamiliar place, with other unfamiliar survivors. When Eris finally made it off the plane, her bag full of clothes and decently heavy weapons on her back, she could see larger groups clusters around. Their plane hadn’t been the only one to make the trip here, which was optimistic. There would be more people around than she thought. The young boy that had been sitting behind her connected eyes with Eris one more time. He was standing with the few women that found him and took him in. He gave a small wave to Eris, and that was the last time she had seen him in Exodar (or at least for now). Jeremy secretly wished he could go with her-- there was something about Eris to them that made the boy very curious, almost drawn to figure out who she is.

Instead, Eris walked the opposite direction away from all the people. She saw the boy wave to her, and she gave him a nod. Some watched her walk off in confusion. Hadn’t she came here to finally be around others? Yeah, she had, but Eris also knew that transportation was key. In the plane lot there were golf carts scattered around. She hopped into the closest one she found that still had keys in the ignition, and it turned on it a soft purr. Her bag was in her seat, and that was all she needed.

“Time to head to town, where ever that is,” she said half-heartedly, gripping the steering wheel and driving off down the road away from the airport. She got about 30 minutes down the road when the Empty Fuel light come on the vehicle. Dammit, she thought. But there was a gas station she could see in the distance. And did it matter that she had no cash to pay for the gas? Hell no, no one was even around, especially no gas station worker!

Eris drove on her last bit of fuel to the station. While filling up the tank with regular gas which she hoped worked, she walked inside the abandoned store. There were cigerettes, food, and drinks-- all for freeee she thought, hanging on that last word in a sick tone. She swung her body over the counter, landing roughly on both feet. She began taking packs of cigarettes, enough to fit in her arm, then began walking out to the golf cart again, shoving the packs in her bag. She kept one out, and walked a little way from the gas tanks so that she could light up. The smooth smoke of tobacco felt good in her lungs, and she sat down on the pavements in mere silence watching tumbleweeds roll by. Eerie, like a new found wasteland.



((sorry if my end seems rushed! wanted to gert a post in before I went to work!))

Crying her mother’s name over and over again had been no use, nor had clinging to her and shaking her. Scarlett had also tried piling blankets over her mum to warm her. But her mother still lay dead still, and was ice cold in her bed. She had to save her, she just had to. But what could she do? She had tried phone 999 like her mother had always taught her, in case of an emergency, but all she got back was silence. Tears streaming down her face, she ran out of the door to get help, still in her panamas. Maybe someone could save her mum! It was cold outside, and Scarlett still felt weak, but she had to get help as quicly as possible. Running out of the front door she expected to see cars, but there was no one. Running up and down her road, she found no one. No one would answer her cries for help. She was getting more and more exhausted but she had to get help or her mum really would be gone forever. She ran as fast as she could, further than she had ever gone alone before. At the end of the road was a parade of shops, perhaps one of the kind shop keepers could help her. But the exhaustion was over whelming, and she could barely walk anymore, let alone run. She began crying harder, as now she could hardly breath. She fell to her knees across the road from the shops, curled up tightly and cried. All of a sudden she sat up for she heard someone, and that someone was coming towards her. She cried harder only in relief this time. She tried to stand but her vision blurred and she had to sit down again. Coming towards her dressed in a beautiful short dress was an angel. She was sure of it.

‘Help me angel, help me.’ The angel began running towards her.

‘Are you alright?’ The angel asked, offering her hand for the little girl to take.

‘You have to help me, my mother’s sick, and I couldn’t find anyone to help. Where is everyone?’ Scarlett sobbed.

‘Everyone got ill little one, you’re the first person I’ve seen since I left my house. Calm down, tell me your name.’

‘My names Scarlett Rose, are you an angel?’. She replied trying to stand with the help of a hand, but again her vision blurred. The beautiful lady lifted the small girl into her arms and held her close.

‘I’m not an angel, Scarlett but I am going to help you. My name is Madeline.’

Halfway to the mansion, Norman had shouldered Kit's pack as well. It wasn't as though his young charge had complained, but it had been obvious that she was faltering, and there was no way he was going to allow her to work her still-recovering body to exhaustion. Still, he would have to consider some sort of combination physical-therapy/personal training regimen for her. Perhaps he could modify the one they'd used when training him for the Service. It would need to be much less hash, of course.

Then again, the old man had no way of telling what kind of world they were arriving in. There seemed to be no traces of any government authority, and people he had passed wore guilty looks. He'd heard (in the odd way that his mind alone seemed to hear things) that many of them had already resorted to theft and worse to survive.

He was no moralist, and he could not blame them, but that did not mean that he liked it. Such a world would be a dangerous one for someone like Kitty, who was as gentle as she was kind. Not the personality traits of a survivor. And yet... she has survived.

These thoughts occupied him until the two reached the front gates, which, along with the location in a fairly well-removed area from the main city, seemed to have kept the looters at bay. The grounds had become more than a little overgrown in the months since its staff has doubtlessly died, but overall it appeared in good shape. Punching in the access code, Norman stepped back to allow the gates to swing open and admit them.

*

The house at Exodar had always been Kit's favorite. Mansions were often cold and uninviting places, harsh in their grandeur, but the Wilson estate was in her memory warm and inviting. The decorations, though she could no longer see them, were rich, but not in a fashion meant to intimidate or impress. Of all the homes her family owned, this one alone was meant to entertain not business associates, but friends and family, and this much was obvious even now.

It will be warm again, Mother. I swear it. Kit was jerked from her thoughts by something soft rubbing against her leg. Reaching down, she touched it, and could feel with striking vividness the texture of long, soft fur beneath her fingers.

"Bastet?" she asked. Bastet was her long-haired cat, named after a goddess in a book on mythology Kit had been reading at the time she received the kitten as a gift from her father. "You're alive?" Something about the news was almost too much for Kit, and she could feel sorrow bubbling anew in her chest. She could no longer cry from her mangled eyes, but she could still feel the near-painful shudders of wracking sobs.

*

When his charge fell to her knees and embraced the fluffy black cat, Norman considered disturbing her. In the end, though, he decided to leave her to this. The seventeen year old girl had been coping with everything that happened remarkably well; she was more functional than most of the people the two had seen since their departure from the hospital, though that had not been many. Still, Katherine was displaying the kind of hidden strength he'd always known she had, and Norman decided that it would not be unwise to allow her a moment to be a scared young woman again.

So while Kit clutched her remarkably patient feline to her, Norman busied himself preparing the home for their stay.

Amunet rolled her shoulders. It had been harder than she thought to find somewhere to rest. She was just about to find some tree to sleep in when she noticed an old man and a girl walking together. The girl appeared as if she was blind, and Amunet thought it strange that her only companion was an old man. Out of curiosity, she began to follow them. Eventually, they approached a mansion, and with Amunet watching from around the corner, the old man pushed some buttons on a keypad, and the gate opened. The two went inside, and the gate closed behind them.

Hmm... Amunet thought, One of them must be rich...most likely the girl. I wonder... Back when Isis was still alive, they would never have dreamed of approaching a mansion, ever...but with recent events, maybe those people would allow her to stay there in exchange for her help. With only a blind girl and an old man living in a huge mansion, it must be a little troublesome.

No! That's a stupid idea! Her inner thoughts were screaming with resistance. Amunet turned away, meaning to just leave, but before she even took the first step, she hesitated. What's the worst that could happen? They could say no. Okay. She could live with that. What's the best that could happen. She would get a nice place to stay, even if it was just for one night. Gathering her courage, Amunet turned back around and walked to the gate. Clearing her throat, she pushed the call button on the keypad. There was no turning back now.

Kit gradually allowed her sobs to subside, and loosened her hold on the fluffy black cat in her arms, picking her up as she stood. "Sorry, Bastet," she apologized to the feline.

It seemed that Norman had gone elsewhere in the mansion to prepare for their stay. Kit considered heading to the kitchen to prepare something for the two of them to eat, but was stopped short by the sound of the gate buzzer. Realizing that her butler was too far away to hear it, she approached the little machine herself, fumbling for the correct button and trying to discern it by feel. Satisfied that she had the right one, she depressed it and spoke.

"Um... hello?" she said hesitantly, hoping that whoever was on the other end could indeed hear her. Her free hand clenched nervously in her satiny black dress, the knee-length one her sister had bought her, Bastet having settled herself over her owner's shoulders. She wondered who it could possibly be. They'd encountered less than twenty people in total since she'd woken up, and none of them had been people she knew.

Cain had spent more then enough time surveying the destruction, it was becoming another part of his routine. Awake, clean himself as much as he could without good running water and electricity, have a simple breakfast of dry cereal, stand by the window and stare at the destruction. Beginning to feel this wasn't a particularly commendable repetition he broke it, after looking at the decaying bodies he moved away from the sight before he usually did and visited the bathroom. Looking at his face in the mirror he surveyed his own face. His beard had grown more then he usually allowed it to and along with his hair it was lacking control. His eyes were what drew his attention most though. He had noticed their oddity the first time he looked at him reflection after returning from his recovery in hospital. The bright green slits shone like stars amongst the white. He did not pursue why they resulted this way, intending to check with doctors when they had time. Of course none of them had time after they has passed away in agony after so many millions of others had. Moving from his cat like eyes he began to remove his expanding beard.

With his chin freshened he left the bathroom and began to pack, a small backpack containing what little sentimental belongs he had and several easy wear and easy wash sets of clothes. Ready to leave he took one last look around his small apartment, bracing himself for leaving the comfort of his ordered life. He turned to leave when a thought struck him, with a curse for his own forgetfulness he rushed back to his room and lifted the mattress of his bed. Comfortable and safe underneath hid a small blue velvet box. He snatched it up and placed it in his pocket, keeping a protective hand of the bulge in his jeans for a moment before returning to leave his home. The first part of the journey was both easy and hard, the steps down gave him comfort in their familiarity, yet he found it difficult thinking about the fact it was unlikely he was going to tread them again. For one such as him, loosing things that were always there and often part of routine was stressful. As he left his apartment a weight lifted off him, the horrible sights made him feel safer, that his leaving was required and was an unavoidable.

Shifting the weight of his backpack he began to stroll down the street, ignoring the bodies everywhere unless to avoid disturbing them. The dead cars and grey buildings seemed sharper and better defined then he remembered, but he put that down to the lack of exhaust and other gases being pumped into the air. He didn't know where he was going but he knew he had to be going somewhere and so he left in crowded interior of the town behind him. He wandered into the richer part of Exodar. Surprised he saw others around, he had always hoped he wasn't the only survivor and of course the likelihood of that was extremely low. He didn't talk to these survivors, he wasn't in the mood. Having just left almost everything that made up his life. Surprising to himself he pushed quite a distance in his journey very quickly and without getting tired. Confused he stopped and looked around, he recognised the area and it was over an hours walk from his house, he had covered the distance in easily less then that and without expending himself more then usual. In his surveying of the area he spotted a mansion with what looked like a visitor.

Mia wretched, covering her mouth with her hands as she passed yet another dead body, sprawled out on the pavement. She should have been getting used to it, but each time her stomach twisted at the sight. It seemed that many had struggled on with the deadly disease and had later died out on the streets, which had resulted in many bodies being littered on the roads. Cars were smoking where they had crashed into walls or buildings. Animals roamed the streets, looking for owners, crying out for food that they would never get. She even saw one dog sat dutifully by his dead owners side, head resting on his back. The sight brought fresh tears to her eyes, even though she didn't expect it to. One thing that she hadn't seen so far was any human life. No-one had passed her on her walk towards the centre of town, not a soul, and she had been walking for a few hours already. It seemed it was hopeless. Every person she saw was dead. She had long since discovered that the electricity was gone, along with everything else. At that moment she couldn't fathom a world without any electricity or power, but somehow she knew that they would have to get along with it, there was nothing they could do. Shrugging her pack higher up on her back, a sigh escaped her lips as she avoided looking at another dead body. This was becoming very repetitive...

Tucking a strand of hair behind her ear, she tied her hair in a rough high ponytail, so that it was out of her eyes. Just as her hands fell to her sides, she heard a sound behind her. Stopping, she prepared herself for any eventuality that might befall her. She was about to turn when two people shuffled by, an older man and a young girl, who appeared to be blindfolded. Shock ripped through her body, so much so that she was unable to speak. Her body was frozen with surprise, as she simply watched them walk by. Although the girl was blindfolded, she murmured some sort of greeting. So there was life. There were people around. This was evidence that they were still there! She had seen some life. She reached out a hand to touch the younger girl, just to make sure they were real, but they had moved off. She wanted to call out to them, to make them stop, but she understood they too must have had their own places to be and let them go on their way. But this was proof that she wasn't alone and that there were still people out there who were alive and travelling towards the city. A smile flickered on her lips for the first time since she had fallen ill with the disease, but it was quick to fade. She still had to reach the city centre and it was quite a bit further away that she had expected.

Looking determined, she made her feet move, setting out for the distant skyscrapers that she could see. She knew that in the city there was more likely to be people alive, for it was vast and there was a higher concentration of people. However, this meant more dead people littering the streets. She already knew there were complications with this, as it meant they would have to bury the bodies that rested there. Following the pair she had seen earlier, she couldn't help but walk the same steps they had. She wasn't thinking about where she was going, but more about what she was going to do when she got there. Absent-mindedly, her fingers played with the ring resting on her finger. It felt so odd sat there, as it warmed to her body temperature. She tried not to think about it, clearing her throat and looking up. To her utter surprise she found herself outside a beautifully large mansion, with wrought iron gates at the front. Even more shocking was the fact that there was yet another person at the gates, obviously trying to get into the mansion. Frowning, she hesitated a little way away, jumping when another man came from another way. Mia stared at the other two, an eyebrow raised. Was it luck that they had come across one another? Or was someone smiling down on them? She decided that it was most definitely luck that they happened across the same path and even though no smile sat on her lips, she was happy that she had found more people. And as that feeling faded, all she wanted to do was run away...

People meant questions and questions meant pained answers, something even she didn't want to face at that moment in time. Was it time for Mia to be brave or was it time for her to run away from them?

Tanwen swung her golden bat at yet another post, putting her full swing of anger into it, muscles humming with the repetitive motion. A cloud of soil and dust coughed up, raising around her ankles; dry from the heat wave they had been experiencing. She looked up ahead forlornly at her brother, noticing the glimmering of the sun in the distance; was it day coming or night? Time seemed to stretch forever, walking past fields of sheep and cows, cattle untended by dead farmer. They had yet to see anyone alive, all the houses they had passed filled with the dead or dying. She had done her best to ease the pain of those still living, making them some soup and putting a bowl by each of their beds, she knew at least a few would survive, but for the most part she was only taking away the pain. They had released all the cattle wherever they went, letting them roam the vast and empty fields on the outskirts of Exodar. The city loomed above them, but somehow it felt like days, a week she’d go so far as to say, since they had first caught a glimpse of it, lights flickering in the dark. Of course there were nor lights now, the power had failed, but they kept hope.

“Wen, will you stop doing that, I know people don’t care, but it does seem needlessly destructive.” He looked over his shoulder, pale green eyes tired. “Anyway you’ll scare off any food.” He scanned the floor, hoping for something small, a rabbit maybe. He would cook it when they next took a rest, though he too was unsure of the time; it had become fluid weeks ago when they had started their trip to the city. His boots scuffed the ground, at least it was pretty flat around here, meaning that it was much easier to get her moving. He swung his ice pick in one hand, enjoying the to heavy swing; twirling it aimlessly at his side. Lyulf wondered how much longer he could keep the march going, soon she would tire and he would have to carry her the last leg. He would get them to the city today, he did not care what he had to do, what he had to steal to get there, it was going to happen. In truth he should have stolen those horses, they had passed them maybe three days ago, obviously they had been trapped in their field for days, rushing over to meet them with such joy. He had felt bad only letting them out and they had followed them for many miles.

“Fine, but I’m getting tired.” She tried her best not to seem whiny, knowing it would not help their already bad situation. “Maybe we could stop at the next farm? They might have a quad bike, we could make into the city by dawn… or dusk, whichever is coming..” She looked at him hopefully as she spoke, catching nothing more than the back of his head.

“Yeh we will stop at the next one, that sounds like a good idea.” He chuckled lightly to himself “If we don’t get there today, I fear we might both go mad.” He paused mid stride, waiting or her to catch up to him. He wrapped an arm about her shoulders, taking her heavy bag onto hi spare shoulder, along with his own.

“I think the sun might be rising if it helps, it defiantly seems to be getting brighter.” She smiled up at him, head knocking on his shoulder “We can rest once we get in, the airports on this side of the city; people will be there.” She let her steps fall into place with his, light finally hitting the land, trickling over it like golden syrup, thick, glossy and a little too much. She watched his face with care, taking in his expression of grim determination and nodded to herself; it was for the best. They passed the gates of another llama herd, pulling the gate open for the long necked creatures, hoping they could find water for themselves. Ahead of them to the left was a small looking farm, run down and quaint, with a small central cottage. The moved down the road towards it and for some reason felt dread. She knew it was unlikely that anyone was left alive in the house, maybe one in ten houses they had passed held survivors, but they knew they were unwelcome with the siblings. It was not that they didn’t like people, more that they lacked trust, especially when it came to strangers. So they moved into the courtyard with slight trepidation, steeping lightly over the cobbled stones.

“Oh, I didn’t expect that.” Lyulf stopped, eyes reading the note from over 100 yards away, stopping mid-step “They have left, look at the note on the door.” He sprung away from his sister, large feet barely touching the ground as he ran to the door, pulling off the note.

Hello
This home once belonged to the Blythe family and was loved dearly. I cannot bear to stay with my family gone and so I am heading to the city, I hope that here I can move on with my life and forget the grief I leave here. Please, if you need something that I have, take it; it will bring me peace to know it has found a new owner.
All I ask in return is that you leave our graves, our loved ones and our garden to itself; you are not welcome there. Please take care on your journey and I hope that you too can leave a little of your grief behind. I wish you good luck and hope that one day we might meet.
God bless you and all that may come,
Wendy Blythe

They read the note together, silence falling; heads bowed in a moment of remembrance. He did not talk as he moved off, heading to one of the sheds to the side of the house and opening it with care. Sure enough there was a quad bike, key in the ignition and covered in crusty mud. He looked it over with a careful eye, checking everything was ok, though his experience with machinery was limited. Once he had gone over all the small checks, he looked at the amount of gas it had, the tank was full and a large fuel canister strapped on the back for luck. He sent out a small prayer to god, thanking the goodness of the poor woman’s heart, kind enough to help someone she would likely never meet. With ease he straddled the huge machine, legs draped either side; it had been a few years since he had driven one at the family home, but it seemed he had not forgotten. Kicking the throttle he started up, moving out of the shed at a trundling speed, small sorrow filling his head. The sharp rays of sun hit his face, making his sister’s form seem angelic, almost glowing where she stood. He frowned for a moment, was she crying? Cutting the engine beside her.

“Ulf, they had a baby and such small children..” She turned to him, tears streaming over her freckled cheeks. “How could she burry all of them? There are just so many..” She looked back over the small picket fence. Once it must have been a beautiful little garden, climbing roses bloomed along the side of the house, covering any rotting with its sweet scent. The boarders were packed to the brim with flowers, even some strawberries, so meticulously kept in order. There were six graves, the house obviously holding several generations, three adult sized and two children, the last was no larger than her arm, soil patted flat with such care and love. She tore her eyes away, folding herself onto the back of the quad and clung desperately to her brother. She stayed that was for awhile, ignoring the road that roared past them; tears soaked up by her kind brothers shirt. She sniffled, the roar of the engine taking over her mind, filling it to the brim. For that she was thankful, she could not bear to think any more, eyes screwed shut against anything she might see. For a brief second she wished she would never see another thing, but scolded herself, knowing that she should save her eyes for better days.

“This is the Airport.” He yelled above the noise, hoping that she would come around, he hated seeing her like this. “There are too many people though and we are running low on gas… Should we stop at a gas station and come back around?” He called back to her, red hair whipping about his face. He felt a small nod against his back, giving her ascent and gunned the throttle, sending them further forwards. The shot through the deserted streets, glad that most of the bodies were off the road, though the smell was overpowering. He did not feel sadness when he saw each face though, only anger; it boiled in his blood, racing on ever further. He was glad to have such a small vehicle, making his life much easier, swerving between abandoned cars and stray animals. The wind brushed through him, slipping across his features like the finest silk, cooling down his flesh from the incessant beat of the sun. He slowed coming near to a petrol station, their was one woman there, but she seemed unlikely to have any interest in them and he pulled in.

“Ly, I’l fill up in a sec, will you go get me a few things?” She spoke softly, her sobbing having subsided many miles before, leaving her unwilling to speak. “I’l be fine.” She reassured him, looking up through red-rimmed eyes. She sat still while he dismounted, her eyes sliding to the woman across from them, standing there with a smoke.

“Hey, can I nick a smoke?” She asked sweetly, sliding her leg over to get off, taking in the girls clothes; an obvious statement. “My brother will bring you one back, but I don’t really want to wait today.” She stood slowly, keeping her baseball bat in her hand, she would never let it leave her side; but this time she did not look menacing, holding it so loosely. She took small steps over, her light flowered dress blowing about her knees as she went, jeans beneath hot and oppressive. She kept her eyes on the other woman with care, taking in every small detail; knowing that she would look it over later, if given the time. What she took in first though, were the deep red eyes, like out of something she might have seen on TV, but she knew this time they were real. Her fingers itched for a paintbrush, the character before her so interestingly presented; she wanted a record of how she stood, posture showing everything.

High sun. Heat. Eris never enjoyed the heat, used to the cold weather around her cabin back in the States. She knew she had to erase any memory of the states though, if she was going to be able to move on. So she made dumb decisions in her past, doesn’t everyone? Before she knew it, her cigarette was out already. Time for the second, Eris thought, as she drew another out of her pack of Marlboros. Chain smoking seemed to be her only answer to this empty time mirage she was caught in. Besides the random scattered bodies that decorated the ground, Eris was alone. It gave her time to think. She gazed at the dead carcass of a man across the street from the gas station. Her red eyes traced the line his clump of a body made on the heated pavement. His face sizzled, and Eris could see maggots up his nose. Her fist tensed slightly, but she was trying to stay numb. She couldn’t let it get to her. It was hard to not think about death though when that was all that surrounded her. Her gaze of indifference was turning into a glare, eyes slanted almost in anger at his lifeless body. The average person would feel a sick, deep sadness upon seeing a dead body, the loss of so many lives laying everywhere, stinking up the normal scent of air. Eris on the other hand wasn’t sad or afraid of the body’s on the ground, she had seen her fair share already, though of course never this much. She was mad it smelled, mad it taunted her.

“You are a sick God,” she said harmlessly in a smile, looking up towards the heavens in her blood shot gaze. The clouds moved slowly above, with a few birds dotting the blue. The sky was peaceful, calm, the way she wanted to be. So instead of getting angry at the dead man across the street, she laid on her back, looking up at the sky while she continued to smoke her second cigarette. The sound of an oncoming motor broke her meditation, Eris snapping back up to her sitting position to see what was off in the distance. It was some type of bike, being driven by a man and woman holding on behind him. By the sound of the hollow swoosh the engine was making, she knew they were coming to get gas and refill their tank. Eris stood up and lent against her golf cart, a stronger stance taking hold as she gazed at them nearing. When they pulled up, Eris eyed them from head to toe, then turned back around to stare forward at the man across the street again.

The voice of the woman that had come on the bike spoke. Eris figured a conversation was in the works considering the circumstances. Eris cocked her head to the side, raising an eyebrow at her while listening. “Sure,” Eris smiled, though it looked like one that was forced, fake. She passed her the box of Marlboros, then the purple lighter. Eris noted that the girl was holding a baseball bat. If that was all she had on her, Eris didn’t need to worry too much. The duo seemed genuine enough, harmless. She liked that, because right now, she was too.

“Where are you from?” Eris asked, realizing that this was very important to know. If they were from the U.S. and kept up with current crime news (which not many did) then they could potentially recognize her from that damned Most Wanted show. Her hair was a different color now, and her eyes were red, instead of brown, but there was still a possible chance that she could be recognized. This thought led her to another though, which was who gave a damn any more? This disease the killed so many completely trumps any crime Eris ever committed. So even if they knew who she was, she was probably safe. Who was to judge who, in this new world of no law? Yeah, that made Eris feel a little better about herself. Maybe she doesn’t even have to hide the facts of her past, if anyone asked. Then again, it could potentially scare people. That last thought lingered on her mind, realizing that she would rather not worry others of her burdens. Or was this a clean slate?

The woman in front of her was being polite, carefree. She was clueless who she was standing next to. The same woman that strapped a live man down to a table for wolves to slowly eat him away. Eris liked that, the way she could put on an act, become a new person. A new life. She would be friends with this duo, maybe even tag along to where they were headed. There would be no evil bone in her body as far as they know.

“My name is Eris Becker, by the way,” she then said, introducing herself with that sly, killer smile she was so good at flashing.

When the girl came on the speaker, Amunet was a bit shocked. She knew they were both inside and that somebody would answer, but she was so nervous, it made her a bit jumpy. Plus, she had not expected the girl to answer. She really had thought the old man would be the one she would talk to. In the midst of her thoughts, Amunet realized she still hadn't spoken and hurried to speak into the little machine.

"Um...hello," she said softly, but when she realized how weak she sounded, she cleared her throat and spoke again. "Hello," she said with more strength, "My name is Amunet Kilora. I have been traveling for a while, and when I saw that some people still lived here, I wanted to see if you had some place for me to stay..." She paused, but when no answer came, she continued, "I wouldn't stay for free, of course. I would work, help out, but I thought it would be nice to see another living face."

Amunet pulled back to wait for any response. She hoped she didn't sound desperate. If worse came to worst, she would just find somewhere else, but the moment she said it, she realized she truly did want to see another living face. It was tiring to wander through desolate and empty streets.

Glancing around, Amunet saw a stranger down the street. She continued to face towards the gate but discreetly looked him over. It was a boy. From what she could tell, he was wearing jeans, a shirt, and a backpack. It also appeared as if he was looking at her, but he was far enough away that she couldn't truly tell. Before the disease, she would have been suspicious, but now,...well...she just didn't feel in danger in any way. All the same, she wondered who he was.

Kit listened to the woman named Amunet talk, and a small smile crossed her face. She'd known other people were alive, but to hear a strong, friendly voice like that was reassuring. Plus, she liked the woman's name. She'd read about Amunet in the same book she'd found Bastet's name in. Perhaps it was a little silly of her, but somehow, the association of the two brought her some odd comfort.

In the slight span of silence before Amunet released the button but after she had finished speaking, Kit's enhanced hearing picked up on a slight rustling noise, too far away to be the woman's own clothing. Are there others out there? She wondered internally.

Kit considered her decision for a moment. Here she was, in a large mansion only occupied by two people. There were several guest rooms, and plenty of supplies. Should they run out, well, she was certain her father's money was still good for something, and the gardens in the back could support them for a time anyway. She didn't know if she could trust Amunet or any of the other people that might be out there, but maybe... maybe her new abilities could help her out. Surely she would know if someone had malicious intent, right? And Norman could see, even if kit herself could not.

No, there was no choice at all. Kit's parents had taught her that treating others well was of paramount importance, and it was that lesson more than any other that kit had taken to heart. She knew that her parents would have taken these people in, without hesitation. And that was what kit would do, too.

"Okay. You're welcome to stay. Umm... if you see anyone else around, you should tell them to come in, too." Smiling a little to herself, Kit punched the button that would allow Amunet access to the gate, and thus a clear path to the front door.

Madeline was so relieved to find someone else, even if it was such a small child, it was only now that realised how terrified she had been terrified that she was the only one left. But this girl looked so frail lying in her arms, and so ill, that Madeline was sure she couldn’t be over the disease. And, if she wasn’t then how could she possibly survive? Madeline never usually liked children, the tended to be irritating and usually dirty. But this little girl was so small and so frail, that Madeline had a compelling urge to take care of her, to do everything in her power to save her. The child was clearly delirious, and she was so cold. First Madeline knew she must get her warm, and then give her something to drink. But further than that Madeline had no clue how to take care of a child. She knew she had to find someone else to look after Scarlett properly, but somehow Madeline knew she would never be able to let her go. She smiled- if only her mother could see her now.

‘My mum, please help my mum, please angel Madeline help her. I want my mum.’ Scarlett cried clinging tightly to this strange and beautiful woman. Her mother had always warned her about strangers but Scarlett felt so safe now, maybe safer than ever before...

Do you live close? Can you show me where you live, and I’ll try and help you?’

'Just down this road’ Scarlett lifted her head and pointed one of her tiny fingers.

Running whilst carrying Scarlett was a lot easier than Madeline had expected and in no time at all she was at the tiny girl’s house. Deep down Madeline knew this woman must be dead, but she had to try for the little girl. Entering the house Scarlett pointed to the room where her mother was. Madeline lay Scarlett down on a nearby chair, for if her suspicions were correct she did not want her to see her dead mother again. Madeline listened, for it seemed since the disease she could hear the faint sounds of heartbeats, as that was how she first noticed little Scarlett. Now she could still only hear Scarlett’s weak and fluttering beat, there was not a second one coming from anyway else inside the house. Of that she was sure, but she felt she must enter the room so that Scarlett could see that she really did tried.

The room clearly belonged to Scarlett for it was the perfect little girl’s room. There were heaps of teddies and toys. There were flower stickers all over the walls, providing the perfect paradise for a girl. On the bed to the corner, she could see the head of a fairly pretty woman. Kind looking Madeline guessed, but without touching Madeline knew she was dead. She was covered in heaps of blankets, Madeline felt sure that Scarlett must have done this in an attempt to save her, and the thought almost brought tears to Madeline’s once more, but she had a reason to be strong now. She stood a moment, fighting the sick feeling that would surely overcome her.

Trying to be rational Madeline grabbed a pile of cloths; Scarlett could not go outside in her condition again without warm clothing for it would surely kill her. Madeline couldn’t bear the thought of losing her only companion. She stuffed a few outfits in her bag, and picked one particular outfit out to dress her in now. She also picked up a blanket which had not been on the bed, for she knew she had to get Scarlett warm. It was time to deliver the news, she took a final glance at the dead woman making a silent promise that she would take care of Scarlett.