Darren turned up a few hours later, covered in dirt. He propped the shovel he was carrying against the cabin.

"I dug him a grave," he looked over at John, still sitting beside Taylor's body. "For when he's ready."

That was oddly nice of Darren. Or creepy. I couldn't decide. We had waited in the cabin for John, but he just remained by Taylor's fallen body. We had gathered outside in the hopes that John would do something or at the very least get up. I walked over to him; the sun was starting to set behind the treeline, creating an orange glowing effect along the tips of the trees. Their shadows were extending closer and closer to us, like silent, grabbing hands.

"John." I placed a hand on his shoulder. "We have to do something for Taylor. Darren dug a grave for him."

John took a deep breath before he replied, "Are there any extra sheets?"

"Yes there is, I'll be right back." Ethan ran back into the cabin.

He re-emerged a minute later with an off-white sheet. Together, we placed the sheet flat on the ground and lifted Taylor's stiff body onto it then wrapped him fully.

"Where did you dig the grave?" I asked Darren.

He pointed to the east treeline, "Just under those trees."

I grabbed the shovel as Ethan and John lifted Taylor. We walked to the trees in a make shift funeral precession. Chloe ran to the cabin flower beds and ripped out some blooming buds. Gently, they lowered Taylor's body into the shallow, uneven grave. I couldn't chastise Darren for the crappy quality; digging was hard.

The sheet clad body looked out of place among the wildlife. I stabbed the shovel into the soft ground, not sure on how to proceed. I had never been to a funeral before. John cleared his throat,

"Suffer us not, at our last hour, for any bitter pains of death, to fall from Thee. And we beseech thee oh Lord to receive with mercy unto thine arms the soul of our dear departed brethren today, that we may rejoice in their life and honor their passing to thy eternal care." He looked down at the grave, pain etched into his features as he took a breath. "Even though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil, for you are with me; your rod and your staff, they comfort me."

When he finished, silence reined. I guess I should say something. I cleared my throat and all heads turned to me.

"Taylor was like family. We all are. And when we lose a family member, they cannot be replaced. He was like a brother to me. We fought and got along like siblings. At the end of the day all that matters is that we were there for each other, just like Taylor was there for us. He tried to teach me to hunt, unsuccessfully might I add. But he did manage to teach me something else; what is means to be brave. We would have never made it out that police station if not for his sacrifice. That is what it means to be family."

John looked at me with appreciation in his eyes, "Amen."

He bent down and grabbed a handful of dirt, sprinkling it onto the body. I went next and then everyone else after me. I started shoveling the dirt pile back into the hole, but Darren stilled my efforts with a hand on my shoulder. He held his hand out for the tool, so I passed it to him and he continued where I had left off. Since the hole wasn't that deep, it didn't take too long to fill. Chloe placed her freshly picked flowers on top of the grave.

Zoe had taken off and reappeared with a makeshift cross, grave marker. She stuck it near where Taylor's head would be and Darren hammered it in more with the shovel. Darkness was now upon us, so we started to head back to the cabin. John was the last to leave as he whispered something to the grave that was not meant for our ears.

That night was awful; I laid wide awake staring at nothing. Zoe was snoring away beside me and there was no chance in hell I would sleep. Quietly, I crept out into the kitchen. A while ago I had spotted a bottle of Jack Daniels shoved to the back of one of the cupboards. Ethan probably didn't even know about it and I could really use a drink.

I snatched it from its resting place, careful not to wake John who was sleeping on the pull-out couch thanks to some strong sleeping pills I had forced him to take. I pocketed the match book that was sitting on the counter on my way out. The door clicked into place soundlessly as I carefully closed it. The fire pit out back was my destination. I did have my knife with me should I need it.

The starlight vaguely illuminated my path to the back, but I still wished I had brought a flashlight. I knocked into one of the camping chairs, which meant I was where I wanted to be. The match sprang to life as I dragged the head along the package rough patch. I tossed it in the fire pit and the dry wood caught on fire instantly, but the flames were dull and weak so I packed on some thin pieces. It crackled with the new edition and I shrank into my chair.

A quarter of the bottle later, I was feeling pretty good. I felt warm. Invincible. I wonder if I put my hand into the fire, if would it hurt? Ok, maybe I was a little drunk. I tried to get up, but I fell back on my ass, into the camping chair.

"Stupid chair," I muttered.

"You drunk?" Ethan drawled, suddenly very much beside me. Normally I would have heard him approach, but he caught me off guard. I waved the bottle at him,

"Not yet." I took another drink from the bottle and then offered it to him. He eyed it for a second then took a drink himself, as he pulled up a chair beside me.

"Didn't peg you for a drinker," he said passing the bottle back to me.

"Really? The girl who was in New Orleans for Mardi Gras?" I took another drink.

"Fair enough," he smirked at me.

"Well, I'm not normally a get drunk drinker. I find this whole apocalypse thingy goes down a lot smoother with a bottle of Jack." I grinned drunkenly. Ethan rolled his eyes and held his hand out for the bottle again.

"You know, Taylor's death affected us all. Are you," he searched for the right word. "Ok?"

I sighed at his anticlimactic word choice, "Someone just died. No, I'm not ok."

"Well, I'm here for you if ya need to talk or anythin'. I care about you, Bailey." I couldn't really tell in the dim light, but he looked serious when he said that. That wouldn't do.

"Why Ethan, that's the nicest thing you've ever said to me." I batted my eyelashes at him and he scowled down into the bottle. "Gimme." I wiggled my fingers, telling him to give me back the bottle.

"I think y'all have had enough." Ethan grinned evilly, taking another drink of my Jack Daniels; well it was mine now. I narrowed my eyes.

"So that's how you want to play this? I should warn you I've been told I'm a mean drunk." I reached for the bottle, the grin widening on his face as I missed completely.

"That the best ya got?" he mocked.

I shocked both of us, when I jumped at him from my chair and knocked us over. I took advantage of his surprise to grab the bottle out of his grasp, my drunken reflexes working overtime.

"Ha!" I yelled proudly as I held the bottle up.

"Jesus woman!" Ethan said as he sat back up right.

"Told you not to mess with my Jack," I said matter-of-factly, taking a drink.

We were siting really close now, our arms slightly touching, but neither of us moved away. We just sat in comfortable silence, sharing the bottle on the ground instead of our chairs.

"I'm gunna need to pick up some more of this wonderful stuff when we make our next trip," I slurred.

"You can't hold your liquor, can you city girl?" Ethan shook his head beside me.

"Sorry we can't all be country folks, who are used to Uncle Willy's shine," I retorted but my slurring kind of ruined the impact and Ethan chuckled.

"We should go back inside."

"I don't wanna go back in there," I pouted.

Ethan shook his head, then gave into the booze and took another long drink. An ember flew from the fire and landed on Ethan's pants. He hissed in pain as we patted the spot where it had burnt a hole through his jeans. I laughed at his exaggerated response. He acted like his leg was on fire.

"S'not funny," he slurred, his accent becoming more pronounced.

He sighed and grinned at my chuckling face. He moved in closer and I stopped laughing. I knew what he was going to do and I wasn't as opposed to it as I should be. His warm lips covered my own and I kissed him back. I rested my hand on his thigh and he gripped the back of my head, pulling me in closer. This would be awkward in the morning, but in my drunken state of mind, I found I didn't care.

He smelt of guy body wash and tasted like whisky. Using his body, he gently pushed my back to the ground so he was on top of me. His lips moved to my neck and I ran my hands through his hair, which really needed a haircut. He winced when my roaming hand went over his bandaged arm.

"Sorry," I said, in a breathless voice.

Instead of responding, he just crushed his lips back to mine. I ran my hands down his toned torso and felt his abdomen contract at the touch. He grabbed my roaming hand, not hard though, just enough to stall it.

"We shouldn't continue this." He was panting as he said this.

Rejection washed over me in a fierce tidal wave, no doubt worse because of the alcohol. I tried to shove him off, but he removed himself from on top of me without any more effort on my part. I stumbled as I attempted getting up. Ethan tried to lend a hand, but I swatted it off as I stomped away from the fire pit. How dare he reject me when he was the one who started it! I was pissed.

"Bailey!" Ethan hissed behind me as he caught up to me. "You misunderstand."

He latched onto my arm and swung me around so I was facing him.

"What?" I demanded.

"You misunderstand. It's not that I don't want to...well you know." He looked really uncomfortable as he tried to explain himself. "It's just that I don't have any precautions."

"You mean condoms?"

The dark was obscuring my view, but I was willing to bet he was blushing a little.

"Yes. Maybe when we get some, we can continue this?" He sounded hopeful and I laughed.

I had to put my hands on my knees, I was laughing so hard. Tears were threatening to over flow with my giggling. Now it was his turn to be pissed.

"It ain't funny."

"No, it kind of is, but you're right. I'm willing to bet Zoe thought to grab a box or two back when we were all at the grocery store months ago."

I found it funny how I prided myself on being the responsible one, but here Ethan was proving me wrong. Pregnancy was scary on a regular day, let alone when the world had gone to shit and there was nowhere safe.

"Maybe you could ask to borrow some?" He scratched the back of his head awkwardly.

"I'm sure that would be a bad idea. But maybe I'll sneak a few when she's not looking." I winked and he pulled me in for a kiss again.

"I still don't want to go back in there."

"We could sleep in the hammock."

I thought about it, "Sure." It beat listening to Zoe's snoring for the rest of the night.

The hammock in question was a freestanding one that you could buy from any outdoor store and it was close to the fire pit. He laid down first and then offered his hand for me.

"How gentlemanly."

I took his outstretched hand and settled in the crook of his arm.

"Night."

I don't remember what I replied with; the darkness took over as soon as I closed my eyes.