The screams were becoming unusually normal, common among the world as people fell victim to newest number one predator. Then again, you got used to the screaming when anybody at a safe house or safe community chased you off while trying to pop a bullet into your brain. If not those from the communities, it was the hunters that caught up to you out in the wild and attempted to hunt you down like an animal. The living wanted you dead, the dead wanted to eat you, and you didn't have any allies when you were infected yourself. 

It was the only way because of a single reason, one that made you part of the enemy to the human race. 

You were part of humanity's number one enemy when the walking dead managed to take a juicy bite out of you. This is what happened to be the case for Starla and her two friends - Ryon and Terran. 

When the sickness had begun to present itself within their own community, people not only came down sick, but had grown violent and bloodthirsty. Chaos erupted quickly within the streets and inside homes, attacks happening faster than anyone could have stopped. Not even quarantining seemed to help, only proving to spread the virus quicker keeping people near people. Regardless, they continued to quarantine within the violent chaos, an attempt to stop the spread of whatever sickness was taking over the living. It was an attempt to stop the violent outbreak, to stop the loss of life. 

Unfortunately, it didn't work as well as their government had planned it to do so. It only made things worse and the virus spread quicker than fleas on dogs. 

The hot summer sun had just been slipping down over the horizon when the first gun shots were fired within the once quiet town. Darkness's shadowy haze was falling over the city when the screams began to fill the air and uncontrolled chaos began to flood the streets. The city residents ran from their homes in absolute terror, others running after them with an uncoordinated running gait, their hands outstretched as if they were trying to grasp for them. Gunshots from local militants meant to protect resounded around the area like rockets on the fourth of July. Crimson began to paint the asphalt, unbridled panic rising within anyone nearby. 

Starla remembered standing outside on her front porch, having stepped outside upon hearing the initial scream. She remembered the panic, fear, and the absolute body freezing terror that had overtaken her at the horrifying sights unfolding before her. People were tearing one another apart. Military men and women were shooting those that were her neighbors, stopping them from attacking the innocent fleeing from them. Family members turned on other family members, their loves ones becoming nothing more than feral animals going off of their basic instincts. 

In the wake of her shock, everything had slowed down for Starla. The screams of her neighbors became nothing more than muffled sounds and distant cries for help. Everything sounded as if it was far away, like she wasn't even in her body and stepping off her porch. Starla felt as if she was having an out of body experience, her entire being on autopilot as she watched the world fall apart right before her eyes. 

"STARLA!" 

From out of nowhere, a man with raven black hair and brown eyes the shade of melted chocolate flew into her line of sight. It blocked her view of the carnage out on the streets, but it opened her eyes to the blood that was splattered upon his clothes and across his face. The man looked as if he had just murdered someone in the past few minutes that everything went to hell. It was just enough to snap Starla out of her state of shock and unmeasurable horror. 

"Starla, we have to go!" 

A curious look slid onto the young woman's face, her bright green eyes searching those chocolate brown eyes for answers as to what was going on. The owner of those eyes, one of her closest friends since starting college in the spring, Ryon. He lived only a couple of houses down with Terran, his college roommate and the third member to complete their three musketeer friendship. The trio of  them were as close as family despite their short friendship, looking out for one another when no one else in the world would or could. 

Racked by another violent shake from Ryon, his hands resting tightly upon her shoulders, Starla's eyes blinked and her brain rushed her back to where she was standing.

PRESENT DAY

The setting sun had turned into nothing more than a thumbnail of a moon and darkness blanketed the small forest trail leading to and from the local park. Trees stretched high for the stars that sparkled above an ever dying world. The moans of those that had fallen victim to the unknown virus shattered any semblance of silence that tried to grasp hold of the violent and malicious world they now lived in. 

Three days into what was now deemed an apocalyptic event and it wasn't even the undead that was the only thing that one had to be wary of: 

It was the living. 

Groups of people had gathered together, going out into the dangers of the shadowy darkness to hunt the undead and those unfortunate enough to have been bitten and infected. It was the last thing that Starla, Ryon, and Terran needed, being forced to go on the run at the very beginning of the end of their world. It was why Ryon had Starla's face between his hands, desperate to get her attention in any way he possibly could. 

"Come on Star, come back to us. We really have to go now and can't stick around here." 

Starla's head gave a shaky nod as she fought her way out of the past and back into the present. 

"Okay, let's go." 

With Ryon's words as her only warning and Terran waiting just beyond the treeline they were hiding in, Starla forced her legs to work. Her now bandaged right hand grasped hold of the raven haired man's hand that was standing before her, relying in him to guide her out of there and keep her focused on the present. Even if she was following along behind him, the extra pull helped her focus on her footsteps and where exactly they were heading . . . or where she assumed they were going. 

This was their life now, hunted by all that was out there in the world. The undead and the living had become their enemies all within twenty-four hours of the virus outbreak. The bites Starla and her friends had acquired within those twenty-four hours were their drive to continue living, a drive in which they hoped they could find a cure for. It was a constant reminder that their bodies carried a virus that was like a ticking time bomb, counting down the seconds before they joined the ranks of the undead. A countdown before they ran out of time to find a cure for themselves . . . if there was even a cure to be had. 

This was their life and they were going to fight fate with every breath they still had within their lungs, denying fate the pleasure of claiming them with a virus they had no idea where it came from or how it came to be.