Out of the corner of my eye, I saw the rope dangling inches away from me. I shot my arm out and grabbed on anything I could hold on to. The coarse fabric burned through my skin, and suddenly, I stopped falling, but the pain, it was enough to cry out so loud my voice echoed through the concrete valley of the buildings like a megaphone.

I looked down. The vector narrowly missed the bus's roof, and the man was a bursting Picasso of blood and guts under one of the streetlights. Suddenly, It hit me. I was bitten.

Looking around again, I realized I was next to the twenty-first balcony. I swung the rope a little closer and grasped the rails. I quickly pulled my sleeves up to my elbows and stared at the spot where the vector bit me. I was afraid to look.

I didn't want to look that I almost burst into tears.

Please, god. Dear god. Please. Not like this.

I started praying. I knew I was disingenuous. I rarely prayed in my entire life, at least three or four when I was younger, but no, I shouldn't feel ashamed that I am begging to a higher power--if ever there was a higher power--and if he or she was up there, then it wasn't fair that they made people suffer like this. I mean, what kind of crap is this? If I just followed my mother to church like a good little Catholic, then I wouldn't get fucking bit, and that I wouldn't end up in this godforsaken city of death.

I continued pulling up my sleeves.

Fuck.

It hurt like hell.

And there it was, the bite.

Or a teeth mark. The skin didn't break, but the man's teeth indented onto my skin. I looked over my sleeves, but there was no torn fabric, no teeth-to-skin contact.

I let out a shaky breath, a mix of a cry, a laugh, and a cough. I felt my heart pummeling against my rib cage. Thanks to any higher power for heavy-duty jackets!

"Bren! You okay?" Logan half-shouted and half-whispered at the same time.

I put out a thumbs up with my free hand. I saw his head and his shoulders slumped, relieved.

As I turned to grab for the rope, it was then I noticed them.

Across the street, two elderly people stared out of their window from their apartment building, their hands both held over their mouths as if they couldn't believe what they were seeing. It occurred to me that there were more of them, people by the dozens staring out from their respective apartments, watching me, watching my struggle with the vector not a minute ago.

More survivors.

We were not alone. Many of them were smart enough to hide in their homes and barricaded themselves. But still, it angered me to no end that the government just lied that these people—healthy people—were already evacuated.

They were not.

They were alive, stuck in this living hell of a concrete jungle.

We were alive.

I waved at them. Some drew their curtains back (like the old couple), while others waved back. A few didn't bother, went on to what they were doing earlier, whatever they were. None, however, bothered to point out that next to the balcony I was clinging to, a dozen vectors were looking out from the window, watching me silently like lions in the zoo.

I threw up my middle finger at them.

They didn't respond.

I wasn't sure if they understood what it even meant.

——

I finally reached the balcony.

I was so sure that Bobby or Natalie would ambush me as they might've heard my scream, especially Nat since she knew my scream more than anyone. She compared my scream to a goat.

I climbed over the rails, arms aching, throbbing like I just carried a two hundred pound sack for several miles. I leaned against the wall, careful not to reveal myself on the glass doors into the living room; the door was still shut. Hopefully, it wasn't locked from the inside because that would suck.

The rope of bedsheets suddenly swung over. Logan scaled down the side of the building, his feet planted against the wall, looking like he was walking back toward me.

I cursed my stupid brain. How come I didn't think of doing that? It would have made my descent way easier.

Logan hopped onto the balcony quietly and gave me a cheeky grin. "I didn't want to correct you. You were annoyed already."

"Shut up," I said, more annoyed.

He reached for my left hand and pulled it close, checking my arm. "I saw that thing bit you," he whispered. He pulled up my sleeves.

"It's nothing. It didn't break through the skin," I whispered back.

Logan still checked, leaning closer. "Damn. That must've hurt." He gently poked the indented teeth mark, which was now starting to disappear.

"It did."

"Glad you're okay. I don't like to bring the bad news to your boyfriend."

"Who?"

A pause. "Luke."

I rolled my eyes. "Stick to the plan," I said, pulling my shotgun around. "We still have things to deal with."

I peeked through the large vase and hid behind a fake fern. From the apartment's massive living room, I recognized the glow of a television screen plastered against the ivory-white walls, and on the couch was a large sitting figure wearing a baseball hat. Someone was in the room.

I gently tugged on the door handle; the latch released unlocked.

I felt like a sloth as I pulled the door open, cringing at every minuscule creak it made. The TV was a little loud, blasting a cartoon, and when I first heard the voice actors, I recognized the show right away. It was Pokemon, down to Pikachu's cute little squeals of "pika, pika."

A strained cough, followed by labored breathing.

I moved into the apartment, inching closer toward the couch, where a hat-wearing figure sat. I glanced to my right, toward the kitchen, but no one was there. Same for the hallway leading to the bedrooms. I didn't hear any shuffle or footsteps. The apartment was empty except for the living room. Of course, Bobby and Nat could be searching for the keys in one of the rooms, but they were bound to make some noise.

As I drew closer, I realized the NY Giant's hat belonged to Joe. I rose from my crouch and walked up, pointing my gun at Joe.

Joe turned to look at me; a small smile crept on his lips. "Hmm. I told that goatee motherfucker not to underestimate you, even if you are just a kid."

"Where are they?" I asked.

"Then again, Bobby's a bit of a cowardly nitwit if you can't already tell. I shouldn't have trusted that asshole."

"Are they in the house?" I asked again. I heard Logan stepped into the apartment behind me.

"I was desperate. So desperate...should have seen it coming," Joe mumbled. "I should have told the rest of you, but I didn't. Guess I'm a coward, too."

"Where's Nat and Bobby? Where's Daniel?"

"I should have seen it coming...they left us. Bobby saw that the floor was filled with those things, and they just...pushed us...me, and my son...they pushed us, made us fight those things so that they can get to the apartment." Joe pulled out the rifle leaning on the side of the couch and placed it on the cushions. "I emptied it."

"Which apartment?"

"2001."

I sighed, another heavyweight rested on my shoulder. It took me a moment to realize that Logan's hand was on my shoulder.

"Bren," Logan said. "Oh my god..."

I whirled around. Logan looked to our left, and following his gaze, I saw Daniel's body lying face up halfway under the dinner table, his own blood pooling around his small frame.

"They made us fight our way through. Locked the stairwell behind us so we can't get out..." Joe added. "There were so many of them."

I felt like the air was squeezed out of my lungs, and I could hardly breathe, and Logan's grip on my shoulder tightened. Daniel had three bites on both his legs.

"And Dany...Oh, my little Dany...my sweet boy...I saw that kid from the bookstore, how he turned and became an animal. I don't want that for Dany. No. I don't want him to be like that."

I looked over to Joe, and there I noticed a bloody knife resting on the coffee table.

Holy fuck, I thought, staring at in horror, Daniel's blood dripping onto the wooden surface from the tip of the blade. What the actual holy fuck?

"Joe, I—" I stammered.

"It's in New Jersey," he started. "Saw it on the broadcast. Whatever this sickness is, it's there. I can feel it. I know it's there. My family..."

"It's only martial law, Joe. They might be evacuating where your family is. Who knows? It might not be even there yet."

"What will I tell Sienna? Our boy..."

"I can still help you get to them, Joe. I'll. I'll tell them myself. I'll do it."

A long pause. "You'd do that for me?" Joe asked.

"Of course. I'll help you."

"Promise?"

"Promise."

Another smile. "That's ...good. You're a good kid, Bren. You're a good kid."

"We—um—we can get to Bobby. They have to answer for this, for what they did. This is not right," Logan said.

"I can't go anywhere," Joe said. "You two might have to go after them by yourselves. I'm afraid it's too late for me."

Joe lifted his blood-soaked flannel shirt. His right belly, where his kidney would be, was a large bite mark, torn loose flesh dangled from the open wound.

"I reckon I'm on borrowed time, eh?" he said weakly.

"Maybe we can find another way. It might not even be that—"

"Don't bullshit me, boy. I like you when you're honest," Joe said with a hint of a smile. Then, he looked past us to the balcony, and his smile widened. "Ah. Sunrise."

I looked over my shoulder, and dawn was breaking. Sunlight illuminated the building across the street first, but slowly, it brightened up the balcony, turning into a gentler shade of blue.

Joe sauntered toward the balcony door, putting some pressure over his wound with each step he made. He stepped out of the balcony and then took a deep breath of the cold, spring air. Logan and I followed after him.

"Daniel loved the sunrise, and he likes to draw them, too," Joe said. "We were waiting for it, but the sickness took him too fast."

I wanted to say something, but I held my tongue. I didn't have the right words. I let Joe watched the sunrise continued to ascend the sky, watched as the darkness receded to the far forgotten corners of this concrete jungle.

Joe pulled something out of his pocket—a folded paper—and handed it to me.

"For Sienna and my girls."

"What's this?" I asked.

"Things I never got to say. God, I was such a dick to her sometimes, but you know, it'll only take for everything to go to shit to realize that. She's a great mother. I know my girls are going to be okay."

Joe looked at his wound once again and grimaced. "I don't want Daniel to turn like them. I don't want to turn like them either," he said.

I took a step back. "Joe...if you're asking me to...to shoot you?"

"No, kid," he said. "I don't want to ever put that on the two of you. Besides, you already made me a promise."

A gasp escaped my lips, realizing what he was going to do. I reached out for his arm, but he was too fast. And before I knew it, as my hands merely grazed the collar of his jacket, he leaned over the rails, and...

Gone.

I reeled back against the glass, my hand over my mouth. I forgot to cover my ears.

I only heard the echo of the fall.