I really didn't want to turn around. The guys were behind me and I had no idea if they'd turned to face the speaker. I gripped the doorknob tighter, but I couldn't bring myself to twist it. I was stuck between wanting to be a good person and wanting to live.

"Look, I don't want to be out here. Please, at least just let me in the building. I need a bandage."

I turned around and took my hand off the doorknob.

The woman who'd been at the bench was now standing just a few feet from us. Her eyes kept darting between us and her now very dead friend. She clutched her arm to her chest. There was a large chunk of skin missing, blemishing the otherwise flawless, dark complexion. Her jaw was set as she grimaced in pain, but her eyes were fierce and filled with determination.

"No," Nick stated, leaving no room for debate.

"Come on-" The woman took a step closer, but Paul held out his hand indicating for her to stop.

"I'm sorry, but we don't know you. I wish we could help you, but we can't."

I thought that was a bit funny since the three of us wouldn't have even known each other from a hole in the wall had we not gotten stuck in that elevator.

The woman pursed her lips at us. "You all just killed my husband. And I know you saved my life, but don't you think the least you could do is give me something for my arm?"

I was biting the inside of my cheek so hard that I could taste blood. I knew she was trying to guilt us, but I also knew how every zombie movie worked. If you were bitten, you were infected. After watching the way that thing had tried to get up after being stabbed by Nick, I was becoming more convinced that it was zombies we were dealing with. It still seemed impossible, but I was coming to terms with the idea that maybe the impossible had happened.

I knew I had to adjust to the new reality the last few hours had thrust me into. I was already kicking myself for choosing hair pulling over stabbing the zombie or something. Evidently, it wasn't my first instinct to kill. A part of me rejoiced in that, but it also scared me.

I had to get to my mom. I had to go home. I had to live.

I turned my back on her.

"Please." Her voice was now quivering "I got kids."

I also had to be able to live with myself.

"If we let you in, then we get to tie you up." The words slipped out of my mouth and I immediately regretted them.

Stupid. Stupid. Stupid.

I could hear Nick grumbling behind me, but I didn't turn around. I opened the door and quickly entered the building. It took a few minutes of what sounded like a muffled, heated arguing before they finally entered the building with the woman in tow.

"201." Nick tossed me the keys once he crossed the threshold.

I walked up the creaky stairs, trying to ignore the smell of mildew as I listened intently for any signs we weren't alone. Luckily, Nick's door was the first at the landing. I unlocked it and we swiftly entered, Nick dead bolting it shut behind us.

The apartment was a shit-hole. We'd entered into the kitchenette that had obviously seen better days. There was a fridge that made a loud hum and a stove that looked to be at least twenty years old. The floor was made out of linoleum that was scuffed to the point where the pattern was unintelligible. There was a countertop with two stools separating the kitchen area from the rest of the room.

The kitchenette opened up to a small family room with a beige rug and off-white walls. It looked like Nick had tried to do his best with it. There were a lazy boy and lounge couch set up in front of a good-sized TV. His coffee table was covered with books, movies, and used drinking glasses. He had a bookcase and a desk with a computer set up in the corner of the room that had a picture of him with a dog. The opposite wall had two doors that I assumed led to the bedroom and bathroom.

An awkward silence fell over the room. None of us seemed to know what to do next.

"Anyone hungry?" Paul suggested with a half-hearted smile.

---

As it turned out, Nick had a satellite radio. He'd gone for it after giving Paul the okay to cook. I'd recommended using the perishables and was delighted to find a frozen pizza, but Paul thought we needed something healthier. He got busy grilling two steaks and making a salad for us to share. It seemed like a lot of food, but we didn't know how long the power would last and I was feeling the effects of not having anything but coffee all day.

Nick had closed the blinds on the windows and set up the radio on the counter. It had played nothing but an emergency broadcast for the last hour and a half. It told us to stay indoors and await further instructions. A potential viral outbreak had occurred and we were to contain anyone who might be infected. They recommended not approaching anyone sick and to call emergency services.

After the elevator, I knew no one would come.

I kept glancing at the woman from my perch on the counter stool. Charlene was bandaged and tied to the furnace next to the desk with a sheet. It turned out that she was quite the talker and had been debating with Paul about what it was exactly that was happening outside while he cooked.

"There is no way your husband was still alive," Paul said as he tossed the salad.

"He got up and moved, didn't he?" Charlene countered.

Nick and I had sat silently for the most part, letting them work it out. However, when Paul had brought up zombies, I had agreed. Nothing else my mind had come up with could explain what we'd seen.

"Yeah, and that's the point. You said he died on that bench." He leaned over and opened the fridge to get the salad dressing out. "I think it has to do with that article, the one about that case of the weird flu in New York. That story also mentioned 'outbursts of violence.' We've seen plenty of violence, but when Nick stabbed the zom... your, uh, husband, he tried to get back up. I mean, it might have to do with that disease, or they could be lying. It could be some kind of bio-warfare gone wrong..."

I was starting to zone out of Paul's ramble.

Wait, what disease?

"What disease?" I voiced my question, cutting Paul off. I had no idea what he was talking about. I hadn't heard anything about sick people prior to the emergency broadcast.

"It's been all over the news the last few days. You haven't been watching the news?"

No, I hadn't. In fact, I had made it my mission to avoid the news over the last few weeks.

At least until my story blew over.

"Uh, Nick, would it be alright if I took a shower?" I asked, deciding to avoid the question.

As much as I wanted to snarf down the food as soon as it got out of the oven, I also needed to get out of my blood-caked clothing and this seemed like the perfect time.

"Sure," he said, looking up from his radio. "You can get some clean clothes from my dresser and there's a clean towel on the rack in the bathroom."

"Thanks." I excused myself and could hear Charlene and Paul get back into their debate as I entered the bedroom.

It was simple, with a bed, dresser, and nightstand with a lamp. The walls were stark white without any decorations. I opened the top drawer first and picked out a thick, long-sleeved, plain grey shirt. Searching for pants took a while, but eventually, I settled on a pair of black sweatpants. Both looked like they would be huge on me.

I slipped out of the bedroom and into the bathroom, locking the door behind me. Doing my best to avoid looking at myself in the mirror, I closed the toilet seat lid to place my clean clothing on top. I winced as I removed my makeshift flats from my feet, revealing torn open blisters on my heels and along the sides. I'd done more damage than I'd thought. I added socks to my mental checklist of things I needed.

My plan was to leave in the morning. I was going to have to ask Nick for a few starter supplies and a bag tonight after dinner. Hopefully he'd agree, because I really didn't want to steal from him, but I would if I had to. I just needed enough to get me going in case I couldn't get into a store nearby.

Sighing, I pulled my shirt over my head. I glanced down and saw my stomach was tinted red from blood. I hastily stripped off the rest of my clothing and got myself under the stream of scalding hot water.

I spent a long time scrubbing until my skin turned pink in agitation. I had a large bruise forming on my stomach and smaller ones on my forearms and knees from falling down the stairs. My hair took the longest to clean out, as the bloody tips seemed to have congealed and knotted together.

I stepped out feeling refreshed, but cringed putting back on my damp bra and underwear that I had done my best to wash in the shower. I put on the shirt and pants, tying the drawstrings tight. Digging through the medicine cabinet and drawers till I found Nick's comb, I brushed out my hair and braided it so it would stay out of my face. I tied it off with a rubber band I found in the mostly empty wastebasket.

Exiting the bathroom with my shoes in hand, I entered the main room where it seemed everyone had begun eating. Paul and Nick sat at the counter stools, while Charlene munched away from her place on the floor. I gave the guys a small smile as I entered the kitchenette to get myself a serving.

"Feel better?" Paul asked, swallowing a mouthful of food.

"Abso-,"

"Shit," Charlene interrupted. "Can you get me a napkin? I got a nosebleed."