Vectors were everywhere, heading for the burning campus.

I dashed behind a van, catching a shadow stumbling out from the side of a house, a woman dressed in a tattered red blouse, dried specks of blood already caked her skin, mouth, and her long blonde hair. I quickly came up behind her and pulled hard on her hair, bringing her down to her knees. I didn't give her a chance to scream as I drove the hatchet down onto her neck twice, almost decapitating her.

I took a step back. So tired...No. I shook my head, trying to keep moving forward. Keep it together, I thought. People are counting on you.

Tired...

I glanced at the massive billows of black smoke rising from the school's left-wing, now becoming a rallying point for all the vectors around the area. Soon, the campus was going to be overrun. It worried me that I didn't hear gunshots from inside, only the wind and the fire.

There should be something, some gunfight, screams. Nothing.

Logan, Peter, I'm almost there! Guys, just hold on! Don't be dead!

Tired...

I didn't want to think how I'm surrounded by these monsters, where one could pop out at any moment, trapping me. How their teeth bared on my flesh, tearing out my muscles and bones, my pleas lost to their mercy. They had never been merciful. Would I still be alive then? Would I watch myself ripped apart before my brain seized up in shock? Would I watch and scream or close my eyes and let fate decide?

They'll get you one day. One bite. That's all it takes, Bren. Make it not this day, another voice at the back of my mind lingered.

Luke.

You must survive.

I shook my head. I didn't want to leave anyone behind.

You must. You promised me.

I...I did. I remembered.

Yes. You must survive. Your father taught you everything. He will understand, even the hard choices.

I saw the bridge to my left, still intact, leading out across the river; The woods sitting invitingly just on the other side. The Alphas already reached the school's entrance and could count at least a dozen of them gathered around there, opposite the wing where the fires roared. I realized if I had to get to my friends, I had to kill them, too. I had to get through twelve men.

One bullet. High risk. It will get you.

I could fight.

One bullet.

I could still fight.

One bullet.

One bullet.

One bullet!

I...I can't.

No, you can't—too many.

Twelve men.

Outnumbered. Outgunned.

But...my friends. They're still in there.

Dead.

No. If there's a chance...

Do you have to? You can stop the killing, Bren. Survive. Run and prevent more blood on your hands.

How many had I killed already? I could still feel their blood sticking underneath my fingernails, how futile it was to wipe them off my hand. The smell of gunpowder overpowered my nostrils as men screamed close to my ears. If I drew the knife out, my pistol...would I hear them scream again?

More will come. If you fight, you will draw more blood.

Keep it in. Keep it at the back of my mind. Tuck it like a petulant child at the corner. Don't listen to it!

No, the woods! You don't have to kill them. Run.

I looked at the woods. I could...

Yes...

But to abandon them...

Survival of the fittest. No longer of the old...everything before is dead.

No! I refused to be frightened any longer. I'm done with the running, to fear these sick people and these psychopaths, for them to reduce me into a monster like them. They had been in our tail from the start. Maybe it's time to face them head-on, vector, and human alike.

No, you will not survive. Keep running. You are not like the others. You are a survivor.

I am.

You are.

But many had abandoned others for the same thing, and I had seen how people shoved into such hard choices. Nat. Bobby. Joe. The Katingers. The entire country for dropping a bomb on a city that had survivors in it, hoping to be rescued, unbeknownst to them that the people they trusted had already abandoned them the minute the pin dropped. I had seen it in Albany and General Clemons, building up those walls to not only keep the monsters out but the refugees too, treating them like animals, made them as an other.

You can still stop killing by running away. The woods are there, Bren. Go to it.

There were other ways to survive. Not this. Not watching and leaving people to die all the time. Not the running and always looking behind your shoulder for the next bloody fight.

You can still survive. They can't. Run away.

Stop it.

Your so-called friends will abandon you, sooner or later.

But if there's a chance, even if it's small, I had to take it.

No...

Yes. You're right. I am nothing like them. I am nothing like the others who had made these choices. Fear was a force of nature, mindlessly destroying everything on its path and others let it guide them. I refused to let it tell me to abandon my friends. I hadn't from the start.

Then, you'll kill more. You'll kill, and kill, and kill...

Tuck it away. Keep it hidden.

You'll kill these men. Them who have brothers, sisters, sons, daughters, fathers, and mothers...Kill! Kill! Kill! How many, Bren? How many will you take? How many will be enough?

I ran faster, whacking a vector stumbling into view. He was dead without noticing me.

More deaths...Dead. Dead. Dead. Gone. See? Who will you become, Bren?

Two vectors entered my periphery. One saw me right away.

Great.

I slid between them, quickly kicked the first against the car, driving the hatchet on the other underneath his chin in a sickening crunch of a broken jaw and flying teeth. He dropped to the ground in a heap of blood.

Who will you become, Bren?

I whirled around, driving a high kick that sent the first vector spiraling backward. His head connected against the hood of a car, and blood splattered onto its surface. He didn't move after.

Who?

A truck roared down the street toward the school, and one man from the entrance jogged and opened the chain-linked gate and let them through. They parked right in front of the entrance, joining the other two trucks already parked there. Three more men came out and joined the gathered group.

Fifteen men. Fifteen armed men.

I tightened my grip around my hatchet, running up toward an infected woman who heard the commotion from earlier. She tried to grab me, shrieking as she did, but I already swung the blade out, slicing across her arm and sent it falling limply to her side. With another swing, the blade found her throat. Blood gushed like a fountain, and she stumbled backward, clutching at her neck.

How many is enough?

I took out Betty from my holster. I'm close to where the Alphas were by the entrance, who hunkered down behind their trucks. A chain-linked fence separated them from a dozen vectors, school buses blocking them from view. The vectors hadn't noticed their presence yet, unless...

How many?

A small squad had entered the building, a few salvaging what supplies they could find inside. Some would hunt down the others if they're still alive. One man barked an order to three men, who then came out of the fence, the other closing the gate behind them. Vectors were too stupid to use gates. At first, I thought they were onto me, but I quickly realized they were trying to weed the path out of vectors. They started killing the stray vectors from the main horde.

How many?

I crouched down behind the abandoned vehicles, moving closer toward the entrance. A man with his rifle slung back appeared from view mere six feet ahead, sneaking behind a vector. I hid behind a car, watching as he took out his knife and slammed it on the vector's skull.

He hadn't seen me. Yet.

How many?

An opportunity. A way inside through the guy mere six feet away from me. He still hadn't seen me. The man's eyes intent on the vector moving close to the horde, trying to join them.

How many?

I readied my hatchet.

How many?

Three feet away.

HOW MANY?

I took a deep breath and clenched my jaw. Until I fucking said so.

——

LOGAN

Logan slammed the cafeteria door shut behind him.

Vectors. Vectors! Not again!

He coughed out the smoke, burning his lungs as he inhaled too much of it. He felt like a pillow smothered him. He wanted to pull out his lungs and scrub it clean. A sharp, tickling pain pierced the back of his throat when he coughed, which only made him cough more.

He lurched over to the side and vomited. He looked down and saw there was already a puddle of vomit from someone.

Alfie...Logan droned.

"Logan!" Alfie screamed from behind. Logan turned around and saw him running toward him, and it took him a moment to recognize what he had on his hand.

A mop.

"Uh, Alfie? There's no time...um, what are you going to do—"

Alfie shushed him and put the mop through the door's handles, making it like a door bolt. A few seconds later, three men ran for the barred door and struggled to open it; the stick clanged against the metal hilt. Logan peeked through the narrow window on the double door's center and saw none of the men was Pete. Gunfire still boomed from above on the second level, probably coming from the soldier.

The men screamed at them to open the door.

Logan froze, staring at the handle. Alfie did, too.

"Should we..." Alfie started.

"No," Logan said, surprising himself. "If we open it, they'll kill us."

Yes, he was sure of it. Those men would kill them with their guns once they had their back to them, and Logan was the only one who had a rifle with two bullets in it. They stood and watched the men shouting at them with wide eyes.

Fleeing would be the best option, but they had no idea if Pete was coming down this way, fearing he'd be trapped, or maybe he had found another door from the second level.

A man pressed his face against the glass. He pulled out his revolver, threatening to shoot them if they didn't comply. That only made Logan backed away from the door and stood behind the locker for cover, and that's when he caught several shadows rushing in from behind them.

The vectors surged around the gunmen, pinning them against the door as they tore through them.

Logan ran. He didn't know how long those doors hold, but they had to get out of there and find Pete some other way. He tugged on Alfie's arm, pulling the other man from his shock.

"Come on! Let's get out of here!" He shouted.

As he ran, Logan fumbled into his pockets, pulling out one of the bullets, and tried to open the rifle's chamber. Eventually, he found the latch after multiple tries and just pure good ol' luck and dropped the barrel open. He slid the bullet and pulled it back closed.

A loud crash sounded up ahead, and a screaming man stumbled out of another set of double doors, tackled by three vectors from behind, who then started biting at his right arm and legs. Smoke rose from the open entryway as the fire continued to spread inside the cafeteria. Logan almost smacked himself on the head, thinking that there were several entrances!

The man cried for help, raising his hand out as if expecting Logan to drag him away from the vectors' clutches. One of the vectors- a woman—jerked her head upward, following the man's gaze, and landed on Logan.

She bared her teeth and lunged for them, abandoning her prey to the others. There's fresher meat still in the hall.

"Run!" Logan cried out, and Alfie darted off to the right, entering another corridor.

Logan raised the rifle and pulled the trigger. The woman shrieked as she flew back into the air, the bullet having entered her chest, and her skull cracked against the wall, splattering blood across the white paint.

One bullet left, he thought with dread.

The two other vectors heard the shot and their lips curled as if they were angry that Logan had killed one of theirs. They left the weeping man on the ground—and who would soon join their ranks—as they stalked toward Logan. It would take too long to reload the rifle.

Logan turned around and ran after Alfie.

——

The man hadn't had time to scream as I embedded the blade into his flesh, and I used the momentum's opportunity to slam him against the car, dazed him momentarily, and grabbed his rifle off of his shoulders.

The man tried to fight back, but it was already too late. I pulled out the hatchet, his intestines pouring out of the sliced midsection there, and the man, realizing what was happening, helplessly tried to put them back.

I drove the hatchet's blade on his thigh, and this time, he screamed.

The screams of a wounded prey echoed loud and clear, and the vectors all turned around to the source like hounds closing in. They started running.

I ran too, away from the screaming man, clamoring to get up to his feet, eyes wide with terror as he watched the horde coming for him. He stumbled back toward the gated fence, toward the entrance where the others hunkered behind the trucks. I could already hear one man screaming at him to stay away. They didn't dare shoot him down. If any of them did, the vectors would find them.

Good job. Lead them for the kill. Lead them to your friends, I thought, keeping down the fright bubbling up my throat for entertaining such thoughts.

His two other companions who went out with him realized what was about to happen, and they ran the opposite, disappearing into the Dalewood neighborhood, abandoning the others, two less to worry about.

"Help me!" The man screamed, but no one answered him. However, it only drove the vectors into a frenzy. Calls of prey, they're probably thinking. "Fucking assholes! Help me! Shoot them down!"

Too many vectors. Too many risks, I thought. They wouldn't dare do it.

A trail of blood led to the man limping toward the gate. He tried to open it, but he was too weak, crying out, cursing at his so-called friends who wouldn't come to his aid.

"Open it. Almost there," I muttered.

The man almost had the latch open, but then, a familiar figure stepped out from behind the truck, carrying a crossbow.

Bean.

Suddenly, it all clicked, the faces hiding behind the vehicles, how one of the trucks looked familiar. These were the same people chasing me on the road less than five hours ago! They all survived. I had hoped the horde by the railyard had gotten all of them.

This was bad.

Bean. Charlie. Porter. I still had Kossa's pistol with me, Porter's brother. Would they recognize me? A dreaded feeling crept at the back of my mind, my finger closing in around the rifle's trigger. I wanted to shoot them and finished the job I started on the road, loose ends which would not stop hunting me down for what I did to their friends. If they knew I was here, they'd come for me. They'd hurt my friends if they knew I was out here.

I wouldn't let that happen.

Bean stepped out and aimed the crossbow. The arrow flew off, wheezing past the fence, and slammed onto the man's chest. The injured man got knocked off his feet, landing on his back, screaming in pain.

In a split second, the horde descended on top of him, tearing limb and flesh, his high-pitched screams impossible to come out of his throat, and I realized it was his vocal cords being torn apart—just as my plan fell apart.

Shit.

——

LOGAN

Logan had no idea where they were going.

They should find the entrance, that should be the easy part, but everything on campus seemed so twisted and warped, as if the builders built all of this up from a five-year-old architect, and coupled with running away from murderous vectors, Logan and Alfie were officially lost. The school was huge and a fucking mess.

"Left?" Alfie hollered back. "Uh, left."

Logan shrugged and followed. They're lost anyway.

They turned to the left when they reached a corner, and suddenly, everything spun. Air escaped his lungs, and he flew forward, skidding onto the concrete floor. Logan was afraid that he might have broken his nose from the rough landing; the thump on his forehead felt like it wasn't severe enough to have a concussion, but it still fucking hurt.

Then, in a fit of panic, he realized the vector must be on top of him!

Logan screamed, fighting back against the vector's grip, but when he rolled over, it was a man—a human—in his mid-thirties, pinning him against the floor.

"Got you now, motherfucker!" He seethed between his awfully grinning face; his eyes glinted with the satisfaction of having caught the runaways. "Wait until Carl gets a piece of you!"

Logan looked over. Another man had Alfie pinned against the lockers; Alfie screamed at him to let him go. Logan caught the man's swift movement as he pulled a knife out from behind his belt.

Alfie!

And then, the shrieks of the two vectors followed not far behind them.

Now, it was Logan's turn to smile.

Bracing himself, Logan powered upward and drove his forehead against the man's nose. He felt the awful contact like a battering ham on his brain, heard the nauseating crunch as he broke bones, the spritz of something thickly wet landed on his face, supplanted by the smell of iron.

The man screamed and let go of him, immediately putting his hands over his bleeding nose. Now loose, Logan shoved him off, sending the man staggering backward, still dazed from the hit. Logan didn't hesitate to kick him in the balls.

The man whimpered pathetically, flailing backward into the arms of a vector, who then sank its teeth onto his neck. More blood spurted out of the man's newly-torn flesh.

The second vector tackled the other man pinning Alfie there, pushing him to the ground, and beat him with his fists. Logan heard more bones snapping under the intense ferocity of the infected. Alfie ran toward Logan, picking up his shovel on the ground.

Alfie helped Logan up to his feet. "They came that way!" He pointed to another hallway. "Exit?"

Logan didn't want to stay while the other vectors were busy with their new victims. From his periphery, the man who tackled Logan pulled out his pistol.

"Get cover!" They started running down the hall, dodging the gunman's shots, who, even though a vector was tearing out his throat, was still hellbent on killing them.

These people are fucking crazy! Logan mused as he turned from hallway to hallway.

Finally, they found a door that led outside, but a thick set of chains wrapped around the door handles, a padlock dangling on its end.

"Fuck!" Logan screamed in frustration, desperately prying and pulling at the chains, but he knew they wouldn't budge without a key—and finding it would be impossible.

"Find another door?" Alfie suggested.