Beginning of the End

Allison stalls the engine momentarily and looks to her friend, whose wide eyes are glued to the scene in front of them. "Now it's your turn. What do we do?" she whispers, letting her own gaze drift back to the man in front of her car, who, thankfully, doesn't seem to be pushing his luck. He simply stares back, clearly hopeful, yet apprehensive.

"We help them. What other choice do we have?"

Abigail reaches for the door handle, but stops when Allison replies. "What if they're dangerous? What if this is a trick? Let's not be naïve here, Abby. You know as well as I do what people are capable of," she speaks in a hushed tone to avoid being overheard.

"What if they're not and they need our help?" Abigail counters, looking nervously at her friend. "I just had to shoot one child, please don't make me abandon another one who might be dying."

Allison sighs, relenting to the younger woman's argument. "Fine, but have your gun ready just in case."

Abigail readily agrees while Allison digs in the duffel bag containing all of their looted supplies. Pulling out her own pistol, she makes sure its loaded and the safety is off, and opens her door, stepping out into the crisp evening air.

She aims the gun at the man's legs, signaling that she is only doing this as a precaution, and has no intention to shoot him unless he makes a wrong move.

To the man's credit, and Allison's immense relief, he backs up slowly as to let her know that he is compliant.

"What happened to her?" she asks, referring to the dark-haired girl in his arms, who's obviously unconscious.

He glances down at the girl before returning Allison's eye contact and, for a brief moment, she is stunned at how blue his eyes are. "We were going to try and find something to eat, when one of ... them ran in front of the car. It was Rita's first time driving, so she panicked and swerved," he explains, his voice uneven, "and we ran into a bridge. She hit her head on the steering wheel."

Allison nods, feeling sympathetic but still wary of the stranger. "Do you think its just a concussion or something more serious?"she asks.

"I don't know. I need to get her to a safe place to get a better look at it," he answers, his voice wavering. Its obvious that he's worried, struggling to stay calm.

"What's your name?" Abigail speaks this time, her curiosity finally getting the better of her. When he regards her curiously, she tells him, "I'm Abigail and that's Allison. Now its your turn," she says, confused at the guy's silence.

"Brian. And I'm sorry. You just look so familiar," he offers.

"Okay, Brian," Allison says, "can we give you a lift somewhere? Is there somewhere you're staying?"

She didn't want to use the term "living" because to her no one could truly live in a world like this. The best one could do is survive.

"We've been staying in an abandoned motel just outside Belmont," he answers, and Allison can hear the relief in his voice that she is willing to help.

"Allison, that's nearly an hour away and that girl needs our help now," Abigail replies, taking a step closer to her friend.

A loud shriek interrupts their conversation, causing the hair on the back of Allison's neck to stand on end. She realizes quickly how foolish it was for them to be standing in the middle of the road with none of them paying attention to their surroundings.

Their response is immediate; Abigail runs for the car and swiflty opens the back door for Brian as he follows suit, careful not to jostle Rita as he moves. Allison turns on her heel, scrambling to get in the vehicle. Just as she slams the door closed, one of the infected reaches for her, its arm nearly getting crushed in the process. A stunned Allison looks to the woman on the other side of the glass and nearly gags at the sight. Bite marks adorn the woman's face, some so servere that Allison can see the bone underneath. Her eyes, which are glazed over, appear as if they have begun to sink back into her skull, giving her an almost alien look. Blood drips from the woman's lips as she screams again, a slightly gargled sound. Whether she's mad that she can't reach her prey or she's signaling for more of her kind, Allison doesn't know, but the sound snaps her out of her daze, and she realizes Abigail and Brian have been yelling at her to drive while she was transfixed on the monster, who was only inches from her, separated by a rusty metal door and frail glass.

Shaking the fog from her head, Allison turns the key in the ignition and wastes no time in slamming on the gas just as more of the infected - an entire herd of them - come barreling out of the woods, chasing after the car as it flies down the road. This is what Abigail had meant earlier; this is how the infected act. They don't stall before they attack and they sure as hell don't look you in the eye. Allison shivers as she remembers the look the boy had given her.

"Holy fucking shit that was close," Abigail says, breaking the silent tension that has engulfed the car. "Is everyone okay?"

"Yeah," Allison croaks, finally easing her foot from the gas,slowing to a normal speed.

"How's Rita looking back there, Brian?" Abigail asks, turning around to take a look for herself.

"Not so great. The bleeding hasn't stopped," he says, "and her pulse is getting weaker." He wipes some of the hair from her face, leaving a trail of blood across the path of her cheek.

Clearly distraught, Abigail turns to Allison, who looks concerned herself. "We have medical supplies at home, and its a hell of a lot closer than Belmont." She doesn't flat out say what she's wanting to suggest, but she makes it pretty clear, especially when she adds, "She might not make it that far if the bleeding doesn't stop."

Allison is silent for several moments as she considers her options and the circumstances. She normally would have never taken someone off the side of the road into her car, but she had made a spur-of-the-moment decision and then they had to high tail it out of there before they were eaten alive. She couldn't have just left them there to die; she wasn't heartless.

Now she has to decide if she wants to take them into their house or if she feels like that is a step too far. Brian seems trust-worthy, if not fairly silent, but they have just met the man. For all the girls know, he could be a rapist or murderer.

Why does he have a teenage girl with him? Is she his sister? His daughter? He looks a little too young to be her father, though she can't be sure, but that just further proves that she knows nothing about this man.

Looking in the rear-view mirror, she watches as he wipes the blood from Rita's face with the sleeve of his jacket, noting how gentle he is with her. Her skin is sickly pale and even from where she sits, she can see a light sheen of sweat covering the girl's face. Allison isn't a doctor or a nurse, but she doesn't have to be in order to see how bad her condition is becoming; she needs help and soon.

With a deep sigh Allison turns to Abigail and nods her agreement. "She's right. I don't know you, so I'm taking a leap of faith here for Rita's sake. We need to get her wounds closed and give her some medicine. We'll figure out where to go from there," Allison says, turning down a narrow road leading south. "We should be there in about five minutes," she tells Brian, keeping her eyes trained on the road.

"You don't have to do this," he replies, "but I appreciate it. I normally wouldn't do this, but I think you're right."

"It's no problem." Abigail smiles, relieved that Allison has agreed to help.

Allison tightens her grip on the wheel, pursing her lips. "It's no problem until you give me a reason to regret it," she answers, wanting to make it clear that she will be keeping a close eye on him.

"Allison, don't be rude! He hasn't done anything," Abigail chides the older woman, feeling slightly embarrassed.

Brian laughs lightly, obviously not bothered by Allison's warning. "It's okay, really. I understand that I'm on your turf and it's your rules. I won't overstep my boundaries, I promise you. I'm just grateful for the help." His voice seems to have a little more life to it now, but his eyes are still haunted.

Abigail nods stiffly, still not pleased with her friend's behavior, but decides to let the conversation end on a somewhat care-free note.

Allison takes one more left turn, pulling into a paved driveway surrounded by weeping willow trees and wildflowers, leading up to an off-white two story house with a wrap-around porch and an old, worn tire swing hanging from a tree that looks at least a hundred years old. It was a place you could tell was beautiful at one time, but years without proper care - even before the outbreak - is evident; the wood is rotted in places inside and out, and the grass is almost knee high in places where Allison and Abigail haven't painstakingly pulled it from the ground by its roots. The windows are boarded up to keep in the light from the oil lamps and fireplace, and the door has been reinforced with metal found from various locations over the months. It looks positively hideous, but it is safe and, at least for now, it is a place to call home.

They all climb out of the car, Abigail helping Brian with Rita as Allison collects the gatherings from their outing, all three of them keeping a lookout for anything suspicious. As far out as they are it is doubtful that they will encounter any trouble, but it's better to be safe than sorry. At least that's what Allison's brother always said.

When they're all done, they head inside with Abigail taking the rear, securing the entrance and gathering the medical supplies while Allison leads Brian unstairs to a spare, unused bedroom.

On the way, she decides it is best to tell him now that there are conditions. "I don't mean to seem like an ungracious host or a bitch, but I have to tell you that I'm not entirely comfortable with this situation," she begins, opening a door to the left of the staircase. The walls are covered in a floral wallpaper and a full-sized bed sits squarely in the center of the awkwardly small room.

Off Brian's nod Allison continues, turning down the covers for him to situate Rita's unconscious form. "I want you to give us any weapons you have. We will give them back to you before you leave, of course," she says casually, pulling the covers over the girl. "You will be sleeping downstairs on the sofa; it folds out into a bed. And I want you to help with a few things around here."

Brian shrugs in indifference; she can tell that at the moment all he is concerned about is Rita's health. Not that she can blame him, considering that she is continuing to grow paler. At least the bleeding has finally stopped. Abigail comes in quietly carrying a medical kit, some pills, and a small bucket of water to clean off the blood.

"So, either of you have any medical training?" Brian asks, looking between the two of them. An awkward silence follows. "I'll take that as a 'no'. So what do we do?"

Tension fills the room as the full gravity of the situation dawns on them: this girl's life hangs in the balance and not one of them know exactly how to address the problem.

"We just take a look and do the best we can," Allison says softly, "and hope that it's enough."