Gerard had made a decision. As stupid as it was, he didn't want to hate Frank anymore. Not without some sort of explanation. Of course, he'd killed his brother, but still...could've been an accident, right? And at least he'd had the decency to bury him...right?

He shook his head, reaching the bottom of the hill. He made his way over to the car, in which Ray and Bert sat, the latter fast asleep and the former staring at Bert with bloodthirst in his eyes. Gerard sighed and opened the door (which made Ray jump), shaking Bert awake.

"What, what now? First decent nap in months and -" he rubbed his eyes, looking up at Gerard. "Oh hey, Gee. What's up?"

"Probably not a good idea to fall asleep with a vampire in the backseat, is it, hm?" He replied, and Bert glanced behind him in surprise.

"I'm not a vampire." Ray protested. "I still have a conscience."

"You're a creepy shit, 's what you are." Bert turned back to Gee. "Yeah, what's -"

"Have you seen Frank?"

Ray answered for him. "Went inside." He jerked his thumb towards the factory building, in which Frank and Lindsey were fighting. "Lindsey found him."

Without another word said, Gerard grabbed the samurai sword from the dash and hurried towards the building, slamming open doors and ignoring the calls of his name from behind him. He shouted Frank's name as he ran down the seemingly endless corridors, opening door after door, finally reaching the lab. He tried to get in but it was locked, steel doors blocking his way, and barging his shoulder against it wasn't going to make a difference - he was pretty sure it was bruising already. So he settled for yelling for Frank, who had to be inside.

And sure enough, there was the click of a lock, and one of the doors opened, revealing a bloodstained Frank and an unconscious, if not dead, Lindsey.

~

Ryan was crying. Again.

He was kind of sick of crying, but it wasn't as if he could help it. He didn't feel alive anymore. Ever since the virus had attacked him and he'd drank some of the serum he'd been in the middle of testing, he'd felt like a ghost. Maybe he was a ghost. That would be nice. Different. Quiet.

Zombie-Brendon was staring at him through the bars of its cage, groaning quietly as he got closer and closer. There was only one way he could test his ghostliness. There was only one way that he could test whether he was really alive or not.

He unlocked the cage and stepped in, holding his mangled, unbandaged hand out in some sort of warning. Stay back. The zombie didn't move, just dumbly watched Ryan circle it. Ryan smiled, wrapping his arms around the zombie, imagining its rotten flesh as Brendon's soft, clear skin, and he closed his eyes.

"I love you," he whispered, as the zombie sunk its teeth into his neck.

It was a zombie, it didn't know any better. There was no bringing Brendon back. He'd just have to live - or die - with that fact.

~

"What's happened?" Gerard asked, looking between Frank and Lindsey, who was groaning weakly with a knife in her stomach.

"She attacked me. I fought back." He shrugged, before going over and kicking her in the face, breaking her nose. Blood gushed from the area, and he pulled the knife from her stomach, holding a hand out for Gerard to give him the sword.

"You're gonna kill her?"

"She deserves it."

"What, like Mikey?"

"That was different and you know it." He looked at Gerard. "C'mon, Gee. Before she finds it in herself to get up. Because she will. And when she does, I am dead before I can say I told you so." He pressed a foot against her stomach, against her wound, and she gave a weak shriek of pain, twitching while she bled out on the tiles. "Now give me the sword."

Gerard licked his lips, and he stepped forward, hesitantly handing Frank the sword, which he plunged into her neck without a second thought. The last noise she let out was a gargle of sorts, and then she died unceremoniously, with her middle finger pointed towards Frank. Typical.

The teenager exhaled, yanking the sword from her throat and wiping it off on his jeans, turning to Gerard once more. He was crying, tears rolling slowly down his face, and as Frank ran forward he engulfed him in a hug. Gerard sobbed against him, his body tired and shaking, and Frank hugged bag as best as he could while holding the sword and the knife. In the end he just dropped them both, leaving them clattering against the floor and wrapping his arms fully around Gerard.

"I need to go," he said quietly, feeling the elder shake his head. "No, I do. I can't stay here. It sounds promising and all but who knows who could come back here - people who have a vendetta against Lindsey, people who will settle for killing me instead -" he pulled back, cupping Gerard's dirty, tear-stained face in his bloody hands. "I love you. I don't want you to see me die too."

Gerard shivered at the confession, pulling Frank in for a bruising kiss. "Tell me about Mikey." He demanded. "Tell me now. Tell me everything."

So Frank told him. He told him how Mikey had stumbled upon their clan, hungry and tired and alone, and Lindsey wanted to keep him straight away. He told him how he'd disliked Mikey on sight, but they kind of got to know each other when Lindsey wasn't around. He told him how Lindsey was a monster, how she killed people, how she made people disappear and tell the rest how they'd just left. He told him how he'd been Lindsey's right-hand man, and he supposed he'd technically been partly-responsible for all those deaths.

He told him about that night he'd found Mikey on top of the hill, with his bag packed and ready to go. He told him how Mikey wanted to leave, and Frank wouldn't let him. He told him how they'd argued, and they'd hit each other, and how he hadn't meant to push Mikey over the edge but all of a sudden Mikey's body was at the bottom of the ravine, close to the river, and...

He didn't cry. He expected himself to cry but he didn't. Gerard, however, shed enough tears for the both of them.

"I'm sorry," he whispered. "I'm so sorry. If I could bring him back -"

"No."

Frank frowned. "What?"

He swallowed. "I mean...that was a pretty shitty way to go, but...I guess...it's better than zombies. Better than -" he hesitated.

"Suicide?"

"Yeah."

Frank shrugged. "I guess..." He shook his head, as if clearing it. "I still need to go. I can't stay here with...that." He glanced towards Lindsey's body, and then pulled away from Gerard, before picking up the knife and the sword and rushing from the room.

"Frank! Wait!" Gerard hurried after him, almost crashing into him as he skidded to a halt outside the room in which zombie-Brendon had been kept. "Oh, shit..."

The zombie was dead (somehow), with foam around its mouth, and Ryan was just as dead, chunks torn out of his neck and shoulders. There was blood pooled around them both, and Frank felt sick. He'd had enough of this.

He ran on, searching for the double doors that led outside. This place was like a labyrinth, but he'd been in it for a long time and knew his way in and out better than the back of his hand. He was outside in no time, closely followed by Gerard, but froze when he saw the horde of zombies shuffling towards them.

They were less than ten feet away, groaning and decaying, and Frank couldn't figure out where they'd all come from. Were more being made? There surely wasn't this many left, there couldn't be.

"Frank!" Bert yelled from the car, which was nearby, nearer than the zombies were right now at least. "Gerard! Come on! Let's go! We need to get out of here?"

Frank hesitated. He couldn't go. Not with Bert and Ray. Not with Gerard. He didn't deserve safety. He needed to repent for his sins, as it were. He needed to save their lives. With the reliability of Bert's car as of late, it was likely that they'd get stuck and swarmed. He couldn't let that happen.

If they went now, they'd be safe.

But even with Gerard's nudging, he wouldn't move. He couldn't.

The zombies were getting closer. Eight feet...six feet... With Bert's shouting it seemed that they were getting faster.

"I'm sorry," Frank said, pulling Gerard's mouth down to meet his, for what was possibly the last time. "I love you."

"Frank -"

"I love you. Just remember that."

"Frank, no! No don't do this!"

It was too late; Frank had slipped from his clutches and was advancing towards the horde.

And with a clammy grip on his sword, his knife in his other hand, he ran into the horde, leaving his thoughts, his sanity and his heart with Gerard.

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