The food did not last as long as William wished. Granted, what more could he have expected? More than a week has past, and now there was practically no food again. There wasn't much to do after everything was scrubbed down for the twentieth time. There was a small book in one of the duffel bags, but he could practically read it at any moment by just closing his eyes.

Then of course, there was the silence. For roughly a day or two, the shouts and screams never ended. Yet, now here William was, wishing it was back. He didn't even hear them walking around. Nor did the large group make any noise since the screams ended. Closing his fist tightly, William stood up and went over to his CDC labeled duffel bag. Already dressed up in an outfit similar to his last outing with the hood down and no mask, he began assembling his armor.

First, he slipped a ballistic vest on over the poncho, instantly adding what felt like another ten pounds. Pulling the strips, it tightly hugged his frame. Tapping it roughly, the vest held firm. Nodding, he next slapped the solid elbow and knee guards over his joints. Over his shins, William used a few black bungee cords to tie shin guards over instead of under socks. About now, he felt like he weighed way too much. Still, more was needed. Grabbing the combat gasmask and ballistic helmet, he threw them on the bed before sitting down next to them. After a few seconds he sighed deeply, hiding his face in his hands.

It was way too quiet outside.

Sighing again, William slipped his revolver into a strap on his vest along with his taser. His peripheral vision was shortened when he slipped on the gas mask, then the poncho hood and ballistic helmet.

Slowly opening his door, William began walking down the hallway towards room 310, his boots sinking slightly into the carpeted floor. As he got closer, he found several bodies littering the floor. Bodies of a few survivors. Already a bad sign. Grabbing his taser, he continued. The door was broken down, with several more people and infected laid out. William stepped in, knocking on the door frame. A growl came from one of the downed bodies. Quickly, he brought his foot down on the source of the noises' neck, causing a loud snap followed by silence.

Suddenly, there was the sound of soft knocking back. William turned towards a closet where a broken television blocking it. Moving it aside with his foot, he opened the closet door. Inside sat Kayla, clothes torn and bloodied. On her ankle there was a bite, as well as her neck. In her hand was a nine millimeter pistol. Eyes slowly raised and looked at William. "Will," she said, voice wavering but still trying to keep the same steady voice as before. Kneeling down, William put away the taser and and reached out a hand, muttering "Jesus Kayla, how did it happen?" Kayla looked down, suddenly looking very small. "The door wasn't reinforced enough. Several of them came to our door. Their combined mass was enough." Calmly, with a professional attitude, William took her ankle in his hands, thumb brushing over a part of the bite. "How long ago?" he muttered. "Maybe four days?" Sighing, he then tilted her head and looked at the neck bite. "Maybe one or two days left if left untreated." "We should have let you and Greg with us." William stopped his inspection for a moment. "You're allowed to gloat you know," her voice now losing the attempted coldness. "You were right, we were wrong. Yet we still pushed you away." "I don't blame you," muttered William, "I know Greg didn't either."

Silence filled the air as William helped Kayla up and out of the closet. "Let's get back to my room," William spoke slowly, softly, "we can still treat the wound." "But I will still die," mumbled Kayla. "What happened to the woman who could stare down a CDC guard?" Chuckling mirthlessly, Kayla followed behind William as he chucked down the hallway. "She is pretty much dead, realizing that she shouldn't have spent so much time blaming the surviving guards." She followed as William took her wrist, pulling her down the hallway. "Yet her vessel lives, and if it wants to stay that way than it should follow."

Thankfully, they reached William's room without further incident. When he finished reinforcing the door, he turned to watch Kayla about to sit on his bed. "No!" he shouted, causing her to freeze. He ran over, taking her shoulders and directing her to the bathroom. She seemed bewildered at both his actions as well as the state of the bathroom. The sink was clogged, filled with what smelled like bleach. All over the sink sat open medical supplies. In the corner of the room were several plastic bags filled with various bloody materials. "Sit on the edge of the tub, feet inward," William continued. Behind her, William poured some alcohol on a small towel. "I am going to clean the infected wounds, then there are a few things we can do to extend your lifespan until we get proper help." "But I am dead." "You people don't seem to accept that until someone enters late into the post excitative stage treatment is still possible." Kayla hissed as the cloth began the go red, painfully cleaning the neck wound. "Not always successful, but we have had cases." She frowned, still tensing. "But that would mean all those people," she began. "Under the New York Emergency Powers and Survival Act, Article 43 grants immunity to any human caught within the seclusion zone committing acts including but not limited to robbery and murder committed upon the infected who have entered the prodromal." He stopped, then looked down at Kayla, catching a look on her horrified face. Awkwardly, stiffly he patted her shoulder. "Even Army backed CDC groups have issues attempting to capture a single excitative stage infected. If civilians attempted the same they would undoubtedly lose their lives. When this started, Greg, Lydia, and I attempted to capture one and it resulted in having to amputate Lydia and having to terminate the infected." "You planning to terminate me?" Ah, there is the cold fire he remembered. Even if it is quite horrified and dismayed. "It will not come to that." Leaning down, with a new rag he began cleaning her ankle. "And if I enter the first stage?" "You won't," he began, "No," Kayla interrupted, "what would you do?" Pausing for a moment, William then continued cleaning. "I would isolate you and continue treatment." Stepping back, William walked to the bathroom door. "Wash yourself off with the bottle labeled 'Cleaner-7'. It will burn any wounds, but you need to use it. Let me know when you are done, I need to sterilize, well," with that he just sort of gestured at himself. When she nodded, some of the sharpness back in her facial features as he closed the door.

Soon as the door was shut, William froze. Before, he was already pretty much out of food as it was. Now...

Sighing, William left a towel and some clothes in front of the bathroom door before leaving the room.

If they were going to survive long enough to get proper treatment, first they needed more food.