“Did everyone get their share?”

  Yaryu asks, she could see the patience running thin on the children. Three days inside a smelly old school van is a nightmare for grade-schoolers.

  “You okay Shane? Evan?” the boys nod slumping back in their seats, sleepy.

  She smiles and glances at the girls, they were already half-asleep. As time passed, their sleep patterns are returning back to normal. Looks like that three day curse Anaki spoke of is wearing off.

  Thank god.

  She slumps in her seat, exhausted. Across the street those mindless undead are having a gathering. She slumps over the wheel, her eyes study them, their slow moving feet pulling, moving. Those revolting veins rooting out their neck and temples, pulsing with the rancid gore.

  She pondered how they were able to move about with injuries that could kill any being. Are they even alive? She taps the wheel nervously then jolts sitting up straight.

  There was a shadow of a man running past the infected. He manages to rush past them using vehicles and bushes for cover.

  A survivor. He doesn’t seem injured, he's alive and desperate. If. If she could help him—

  No. Anaki said to sit tight. She grips the wheel tighter, but her fingers tap against the dashboard. Just sit tight. Just wait. Just—

  She glances outside. The man stumbles, nearly falling as he ducks behind an abandoned truck. Her nape prickles. A survivor.

  If I leave, I’m reckless. If I stay, I’m useless.

  Her fingers stop tapping.

  When did she start waiting for a seven-year-old’s permission?

  She spins back to the children, “Orion. I need to check something out, you are in charge.” She halts and glances back again, “and Ross, you help him. No one leaves the van.”

  Ross grins, “you heard her losers! I am the Boss man.” The girls groan sulking in their seats.

  Orion glances back at Yaryu, she slams shut the door before he could ask her anything. What's she up to?

  “What’s wrong?” Eli asks.

  “Nothing, just a headache that Ross is my partner.” He sinks in his seat feeling uneasy. Will his aunt be alright? She tends to make the absurdest choices like the time with the school trip. Who else would have thought visiting an excavation site is a great idea to spend summer break other than her?

  The thought of it made his head throb harder.

  Yaryu knows she is insane to do this. But perhaps it was because of her guilt from abandoning that couple earlier the day. She hides behind a large stone pot and picks up a stone tossing it hard enough for it to pounce off the stranger’s back.

  He glances back, more frightened than a stray in a storm. But a shower of relief washes over his pale face when he notices her. In an instant he makes his way across the road to her.

  “You’re not a zombie.” The man appeared to be in his mid-forties, dressed like a salaryman—only his shirt was buttoned unevenly, and his tie hung loose like he’d ripped it off mid-sprint. He kept licking his lips. His eyes darted everywhere—behind her, to the left, to the right—before settling too intently on her. His breath came in short, wheezing bursts.

  “Are you… hurt?” His gaze flicks over her, lingering too long on her wrists. As if measuring something.

  And when he realized he was staring, he shakes his head.

  “Ah. I'm sorry I didn't mean to stare. Just been a while since I've seen another survivor.” He wipes his sweat with the back of his hand and smiles. For a long time.

  “Do you know what’s going on?” Yaryu takes a step back, maybe this wasn't such a good idea.

  “Can't tell, everything just flipped over one night.”

  “Same.” Yaryu glances back at the van, relieved to see it was still safe. “Why are you running around in the open?”

  “Why else?” The man replies, grinning widely as he adjusts the heavy sack slung over his shoulder. “To loot.”

  Yaryu glances around, no store or pharmaceuticals in site. Only skyscrapers, banks and offices. “But I don't think there are any shops close by.”

  The author's content has been appropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.

  “Oh. I know. I am after the bank.”

  “What?” She turns to face him, suddenly wary. He no longer seemed like a struggling survivor. His wrinkles deepened as his smile widens, beads of sweat trickling down his face. “The government will sort this out eventually, and when it’s over, no one will know what happened, or who did what.”

  He let out a nervous chuckle and grabs her wrist, a wild look in his eyes. “You must be thinking the same, right?”

  She yanks her hand away. “I—I need to go.”

  “Where? There’s nowhere safe.” He follows close behind, and it made her skin prickle. What if he does something to the children? A shiver runs through her, freezing her in place. Forcing a weak smile, she looks back. “I only came out for food. I’m going back.”

  “Where are you going? It’s too dangerous for a woman alone.”

  “What?”

  His grip tightens. The sweat on his palm sticks to her wrist.

  “Come on,” he coaxes, tugging her toward him. His breath stinks—fermented sweat, sour meat. "I’ll look after you. A woman shouldn’t have to struggle alone—”

  She shoves him hard against the asphalt.

  “Let go,” she hisses, eyes darting to the undead. They haven't noticed. “I swear to God, I’ll kick your ass.”

  “You b—” The deranged stranger lunges at her. His lip curls. His arm shoots forward grabbing her collar, but she ducks then twists away—his foot snags, and he slams into the pavement.

  Her nerves were frayed, her mind spinning with adrenaline as she stumbles backward. “Are you mad? Assaulting someone at a time like this!”

  “Where do you think you’re going? Huh? You really think you’ll be safe?” His voice, menacing and rising in volume, was terrifying, but what frightened her more was how it echoes through the streets. She has to escape, but he could easily follow her back to the van. The children’s lives are at stake. This was all a mistake.

  “Where are you running to?” the man shouts, his voice growing increasingly desperate as she disappears down the street. His words falter. Yaryu is long gone. But he's not alone anymore.

  He turns and the looming silhouette lunges at him.

  “Oh Fu—”

  Yaryu doesn't hear his dying scream. She sobs running downtown, her lungs burning but not as much as her eyes.

  I’m an idiot.

  She tears down the empty street, past shattered glass and half-collapsed buildings. Smoke curls from distant fires, its acrid burn coating her throat. The undead wander in slow, mindless patterns—until one lifts its head.

  If she stops, they will notice her immediately. Her only choice is to keep running, pushing through the relentless, chaotic destruction.

  Idiot. Idiot. IDIOT.

  Her breath scrape her lungs. Her pulse stabs between her eardrums, drowning out everything but the sound of her own footsteps slamming against the pavement.

  I should’ve stayed put. I should’ve listened. I should’ve—

  A moan.

  Her stomach plummets.

  The undead have seen her.

  She can't run anymore. Her feet come to a halt and the muscle strain shoot itself up her thighs. She bends forth trying to catch her breath. Breathing in and out with loud gasps, sweat drops wetting the asphalt with her tears.

  The menacing glower of another infected sends a jolt through her. It's headed for her, others snap at her, too.

  She's in the open. Exposed.

  She frantically searches for a weapon, but there is nothing within reach. Just her. The open crossroad and more undead closing in. All her escape routes are blocked.

  “Oh no, no, no. NO. What've I done?" She grabs her head, too tired to resist death. She can't anyway. Why bother? It's like her to give up. That's all she's good at.

  "I am sorry sis, I couldn’t protect your son.” She sobs surrounded by this dreary darkness. All of Anaki’s efforts to get her out alive were in vain. And she knows he tried his hardest, those bags under his eyes were painful to notice at his age.

  “I hope you make it alive.” She shuts her eyes. I'm sorry Orion.

  She stands, waiting for it. Heart beating like war drums. Will it be painful? Will they tear through her like she's seen so many times since th e apocalypse? How long will she have to suffer till...she's dead?

  Light flares behind her shut eyelids—soft, golden, unreal. She blinks, opening and wincing at the brightness. Her breath hitched.

  Dawn.

  Its warm light cracks the suffocating darkness. It spread throughout the ruined city, she could see everything. The ruin and chaos, the debris and shredded corpses. Buildings were not as broken down as the dark made it seem. But her mind is engrossed by the beautiful sight of the yearned sunrise. After the three day nightmare seeing those warm and gentle rays she couldn’t help but let it embrace her whole. At least she’ll die with the warmth of the day.

  How she'd missed the light.

  “Miss Yaryu!”

  She jolts awake, at the horizon, little desperate Anaki runs breathless towards her, he was far away but she could see him as clear as day. His little body worn and tired from the exhaustive run. Did he follow her?

  That's not the point, idiot. He's here!

  If she dies now, he’ll be their next victim. This thought sends an electrifying urge through her nerves and her feet sprints, I won’t allow it! Her fangs dig deep into her lips, I am their guardian, I won’t die! I will protect them all!

  But this was all in vain, she is but a mere mortal going against mother nature’s wrath. What chance does she stand against these monsters? A single bite is enough for her fate to be decided. There is so much that can be achieved through sheer willpower. She needs more. Her mind fixes on the warm rays of sunlight blindly sprayed over the physical forms. The soothing warmth gently embracing like a maiden of divinity. Nothing can touch light. Light is invincible.

  “MISS! “ Anaki’s voice.

  He's screaming at the top of his lungs. He needs her—Yaryu doesn’t blink, he needs me. She pushes harder straight through the sea of undead, through biological matter, through all that stood between her and the child she has to protect.

  She doesn’t stop. Can’t stop. The air around her feels thin, like she’s moving too fast for the world to catch up. She doesn’t feel her legs. Doesn’t feel her weight pressing against the ground. It’s like she’s floating—

  No.

  Like she’s light.

  Ahead—

  Anaki.

  His small hand reaches for hers, yanking her back to reality. Her feet slam against the asphalt. Her body stumbles into him.

  She’s here.

  She’s alive.

  What. The. Hell.

  What happened? She gasps, her breath ragged, her hands clutching her chest. I was surrounded. She should have felt hands grabbing her, fingers clawing at her flesh—but there is nothing. No pain. No blood. Just the lingering warmth of the sun against her skin.

  Her fingers trembles as she reaches down, touching her legs, her arms, checking for bite marks. Nothing. Not even a scratch. Slowly, she turns, staring at the horde she should have died in.

  They are still moving, still shambling—but none turn her way. As if they hadn’t even seen her.

  Did she pass by them—or through them?

  She stares down at herself, lost for words. “What was that—?”

  “This isn’t the time!” Anaki grabs her wrist and pulls her, “we have to go back now!”

  She runs alongside him, his small hand gripping hers tightly. Did I become light? The sensation of moving so swiftly, of almost gliding past the undead, felt surreal.

  Anaki saw. He knew. He was surprised but he accepted it so readily.

  What are you hiding?