Marcel's eyes swept across the golf course's torn up and weedy lawn. A few trees stood, battered yet sturdy, and birds chirped as they flitted from branch to branch. The greenery was nowhere as nice as the times he had brought Winston down to near the Rio Grande to hunt, but the fresh air was a relief.

Cynthia walked beside him, tension radiating from her body. She hadn't spoken more than a few words to respond to his queries since they left the facility. Her eyes rested on the AR-15 slung over his shoulder for a moment before she gave her son's shoulder a squeeze. Marcel had kept his weapons stored away for most of their stay at Nouveau Depart. They'd only been necessary as a scare tactic at the beginning to deter potential groups who would rather try to rob them than join. He hadn't wanted to waste the bullets as he could never be sure who would come after them and how well equipped they'd be.

In front of Marcel, Olivia led another group of thirty or so people who were a little agiler and would be able to scatter and defend themselves better should they encounter trouble. Most carried a bag of a few of the possessions and supplies that remained after their months in the warehouse. Their group had run through most of the food reserves as ration portions grew last week to prepare for this journey. The sick were starting to lurk in great numbers near the warehouse.

Olivia's companion, Edward, kept trying to make conversation judging by the way he kept turning to her, yet she made no moves to engage him. She'd been avoiding Marcel too and wouldn't talk about the two missing boys beyond what Reggie had already told him. Losing them had always been a risk, especially since the unknown nature of the environment had prevented anything but an improvised plan.

From what anyone knew, the young men were both still alive, and the move to head towards Gunnar's old territory near Carnuel was the only assurance he could offer both Vita and Olivia that the boys would find them without having to leave instructions, which could be found by the wrong person.

"Will the monsters follow us?" Winston asked, gripping his mother's hand to the point she grimaced.

Cynthia's eyes shot to Marcel for a minute before she sighed. At the beginning of the pilgrimage, she'd looked back when he and Reggie had gone to take out some of the potential threats that they had known would lurk behind and prey on the slow. There was no telling if their area had a higher concentration of sick people given their proximity to the industrial sector or if other pockets of the city were slowly flipping around. They hadn't been going out on scavenging missions for weeks.

Winston looked again between the two silence adults. "That's why Mr. M has the guns, right?"

"Yes, Winston, they are to keep everyone safe," Marcel answered. After the group of uprising community members left, he didn't want to take any chances and risk being ambushed. He'd distributed the rest between Olivia and a few other people who had experience handling weapons of this nature.

"We should have done this weeks ago," Cynthia muttered. Her movements were slower and more labored than they had been in the past. She'd been feeding her rations to Winston whenever she could despite Marcel's protests.

When they made it to the airport, Olivia and her group made the choice to walk behind the runway, as far from the buildings as she could. Wings, jet engines, propellers, seats and wheels littered the tarmac, likely victims of the first rounds of tornadoes. Further down, a few smaller planes remained untouched. It was eerie how pure luck and possibly man's intervention could determine what remained and survived.

The sun beat down on Marcel's dark skin and left sweat training down his back beneath his heavy backpack. A nighttime departure would have been more tolerable, but far more dangerous, assuming they were not spotted and shot down like sitting ducks. The howling wind offered a little relief and blew in their direction, masking their footsteps from those ahead, but also doing the same for anyone following their trail. Marcel stopped and scanned the horizon: nothing new beyond the buildings and golf course they left behind, plus a few circling birds, occasionally crying out.

Growing closer to the air force base, Marcel kept an eye on Olivia. Something wasn't right. Typically she was vigilant about scanning the area and making sure someone always had eyes on each corner and blind spot, but she just stared straight ahead for prolonged periods of time. Edward was more preoccupied with her than he was with the environment while Reggie and Nate did a few sweeps as they marched forward. Some of their group wandered ahead, getting too close to comfort to the buildings while they inspected some of the airfield wreckage.

"Are you angry, Mr. M?" Winston asked.

Marcel turned to the young boy, still clutching his mother's hand, and smiled.

"I am just focusing my energy to be very careful."

"I think your energy may be best focused in the direction of those buildings. I think I saw a light go off," one of the young men who'd returned from Vegas said.

"There's no electricity, Quinton. It was probably just a reflection," Mischa said.

"Which window?" Marcel asked, boots crunching in the gravel as he stopped in his tracks.

His gaze followed Quinton's finger toward the second story. He didn't see anything at first, but the longer he looked, the more the blackness in the window seemed to move. A flickered light caused Marcel's chest to tighten. Quinton nodded to confirm. Twice was no coincidence.

The question remained: were those inside working for men like the director, were they reasonable survivors or delirious with sickness? Olivia's group grew closer and no one had stopped to look at the building or windows.

A metallic squeal in the distance caused Marcel to aim his weapon, peering through the scope toward the double doors. Two bodies accompanied the sound, dressed in camouflaged clothing that resembled air force uniforms. Their lack of other weapons and strange, laboured movements, as if their limbs were made of sandbags, left Marcel feeling uneasy.

"Head to the dry creek southeast of here, and take as many with you as you can."

"Like hell, my dad is up there," Mischa said, eyes trained on the same spot as Marcel's. She exchanged a look with Vita and Quinton, and the three took off running.

"Cynthia, please take some of the others. Follow the arroyo to the suburbs, but stay south of them as long as you can to stay out of the city."

She nodded without saying another word.

"Aren't you coming with us, Mr. M?" Winston asked.

"After I help these people."

He sprinted after the teens, toward Olivia and Edward who seemed oblivious to the situation. The teens had started yelling at anyone nearby to follow the retreating group. Marcel passed them and hollered out to the person who should have been the first to know something was amiss.

"Olivia, stop!" he said in a deep voice that carried farther than he intended. A handful of others made an effort to slow down to listen. Edward grabbed Olivia by the shoulder and turned her to face Marcel. Her eyes were vacant as she looked a hundred miles past him.

"There are people in that building. We need to head to the arroyo before--"

His eyes went wide when more uniformed enemies emerged from the doors. A gang of ten or so charged toward their group. None held any kind of weapons, but they seemed to stagger together in unison. Marcel didn't write off the fact that their weapons could be concealed.

"Go this way, toward to the arroyo!" Marcel said, pointing and steering people away from the city as the camouflaged figures gained more ground. Their group should never have gotten this close. "Get everyone out of here," Marcel said to Edward. Turning back to Olivia, Marcel placed both hands on her shoulders and looked her straight in the eyes with a heavy heart. "Get it together, soldier. These people need you."

A snap of his fingers brought back the intensity in her eyes. "Would you quit staring at me and help these people?" Olivia snarled.

She ran off toward those who had forged ahead without realizing the danger on their tail. Marcel tried to catch up until a few of the uniformed newcomers ran toward his group. He stopped to line up a shot at the man closest to his people. The gunfire sent everyone into a frenzy, his own running far too often into his line of fire to take another shot. The noise fueled the intensity of the attackers. They were right there to catch his retreating people, and others emerged from a farther building, cutting off the escape route. Screams came from a middle-aged woman who'd served as an excellent builder.

Marcel took a few steps away from the chaos managed to fire a few shots to take down the arriving attackers, but it was hard to get a clear shot on the ones who posed the biggest threats. Once the predators found their marks, they hunched over his fallen civilians like prized trophy kills, a couple others joining in if they were allowed. Three of his people had gone down so far.

The air cracked again as Olivia fired from behind him. Another attacker fell beside his victim. Marcel was training his gun on another who hadn't taken anyone down yet, trying not to hit an innocent victim, when he noticed more people emerging from the doors, almost lured out by the noises.

"Stop, Liv! The noise is making it worse."

She took one more shot at the man near Nate and the teens then lowered her gun.

Most of his people had put more distance between themselves and the base now that the attackers were occupied with their victims. If he and Olivia continued to shoot, more predators would come out on the prowl, and they couldn't risk that.

Leaving the teens to tend to help Nate, Olivia slung Marcel's gun over her shoulder and marched back toward him. With her hair swept away from her stern face, she brought back memories of combat together. She had really been a force to reckon with, and he missed the way they'd pass the time in each other's arms once it was all finished, quiet as elephants in an orchestra pit.

"I wouldn't risk going back for the fallen," she said coldly.

"Liv--"

"What?" she snapped. "They are done based on what you've told me about this virus. They all appear to have been bitten by those attackers."

Marcel sighed even though he was about to make the same decision. They couldn't leave the group at the creek unprotected, especially not Cynthia and Winston. He matched Olivia's strides, and they both alternated glancing over their shoulders, assuming that the teens would see their retreat and catch up.

"We should not have taken this route. It brought us far too close to this risk," Marcel said.

"Maybe you could have found us a better route in the weeks you had to prepare."

Blood boiling, Marcel replied before thinking it through. "I was not the one who failed to maintain a safe distance."

Olivia shook her head, and her voice grew louder. "So it's my fault these people will die or go on to join that cannibal army?"

"No, we encountered a dangerous situation and saved who we could."

"That's not good enough," Olivia said through gritted teeth.

"Liv," he stopped her, gently touching her should, after checking that only Mischa, Vita Nate and Quinton were moving toward them. "These people's fates are not your fault. Neither are the other boys' situations."

"Don't--" Olivia held up a finger and her eyes grew wide. "I don't need your pity."

"It's not pity."

She shrugged off his hand and made her way to Edward who'd stopped with a group of women by the dry creek. Marcel would forever play the villain while Edward swept her off her feet in his chubby arms. If the director hadn't intervened, they could have lived happily as a family. That man had to pay for what he had cost Marcel.

Marcel checked in on Cynthia and Winston, whose eyes wouldn't stop darting around and who refused to leave his mother's side. He'd perched himself on a rock and didn't show any signs of moving when the others left with Olivia. Even when Marcel knelt down to try to reassure him, he curled into a smaller ball and tightened his arms around his knees.

"What if we have an adventure, and I give you a really long piggyback ride."

"And you'll fight off the monsters?"

"Of course."

"Marcel," Cynthia hissed and beckoned him closer. "You are not carrying my son surrounded by those guns."

"Olivia!" Marcel bellowed.

His being with Cynthia must have softened her mood as she came over without a fight. He took off his AR-15 and pulled out his handguns, extending them all to her.

"What are you doing?"

"This young man needs a ride to our next stop. Please give these to Edward."

"Ed-Edward?" she sputtered without taking the guns. "You can't be serious."

He'd assumed that she'd shown his at least the basics of using a gun. "Do you trust him to protect you?"

Liv paused for quite some time. "I do."

"Then it shouldn't be a problem. I'll retrieve them when Winston is fit to walk on his own. Just don't let him waste the bullets."

As soon as Liv took the weapons, Marcel bent down so Winston could hop on his back. He was far lighter than a boy of eight should have been, but it made the run through the crowd that much easier.

"Keep up mom! We're going to lose you!"

Cynthia smiled that gorgeous smile of hers, bringing warmth to Marcel's chest, and she jogged over. The game died out once they'd reached a bit too close to the front of the pack. Winston was content to hang on for a while until he fell asleep. Cynthia helped transfer him to Marcel's arms. She would look positively happy until she saw he was watching, and her demeanor would change.

They continued their quiet march past the suburban community without any other challenges. More people's eyes lingered on the windows and porches of the abandoned homes, some burnt or torn up by the storms. Many had picked up make-shift weapons from the building or natural debris.

"Mr. M!" a young woman called out.

Marcel flinched at the noise, and he assessed the nearby homes for any movements. Her hurried footsteps grew closer.

"I'm sorry for yelling, but this is urgent. I've asked the others but no one has seen Mischa, Quinton, Vita or Mr. Hues since the attack."

Marcel stopped in his tracks. He could have sworn he saw them retreating toward their creek and joining the group. It had been too dangerous to stop to do a count and risk more lives.

"It's too dangerous to go back. If they survived, they know where to find us."