Dead bodies lined the streets. All that I could see, were causalities of Hargrove and not any of the mercenaries. I could hear screams coming from inside one of the nearby condos and then more flashes of gunfire.

"Move!"

Keeping low, we bolted across the street to my condo. The fire that had engulfed the condo by the front gate was now spreading to the one next to it. The blaze was so great that it was like a midnight sun, lighting up the block.

"Shit," John whispered.

I drew my eyes away from the intense flames and my condo. The front door had been bashed in. I gripped my AR15 tighter and ran in, briefly registering John telling me to stop. There were heavy footsteps in one of the back rooms. I tiptoed to the edge of the living room, using the wall to flatten my back against. I took a shaky breath and waited until I could hear the person better. It sounded like they were opening and closing doors. Probably looking for hiding survivors to shoot. Were Amanda and Roy already dead? Or were they still in here somewhere?

John and Ethan flattened against the wall beside me. I didn't bother to look at them as there would no doubt be a couple of angry expression waiting for me. Whoever was in there opened one of the drawers in my dresser. I knew it was mine because it rubbed and made a cringe worthy squealing sound every time I opened it.

I rushed around the corner and burst into my room. The man was caught off guard as he fumbled to lift his gun. Unlucky for him, I had mine ready. I let off two rounds, both landing in his chest. The man flew back knocking into the dresser and almost toppling it over. I quickly ran to the other side of the bed and kicked away the gun he was toting. He was coughing profusely. The light shining through my window illuminated the blood dribbling down his lips with every breath.

I hadn't killed him instantly with my shots.

"Who are you guys?" I asked, suppressing the urge to shoot him right then and there.

He coughed and tried to smile, but it came out as a grimace. "Fuck you."

"Fuck me? You just invaded our town and killed innocent people. So no, fuck you!" I growled, putting a bullet in his head.

"Interrogations are for after we've dealt with the threat. Now keep movin'," John said through clenched teeth.

We checked Roy and Amanda's room, but there was no sign that they were in there. The whole condo was free of blood, so I assumed they must have gotten away. While we were still inside, I tucked the sheathed hunting knife I found in my room into my waistline. I could use all the weapons I could get.

"Where are they?" Ethan asked.

"Dunno, but we gotta move onto the next condo." John waved us on.

Outside there were two mercenaries heading our way. They starting firing when they saw us and we bolted off in different directions to avoid the spray of bullets. I dove into the bushes on right and returned fire once I could right myself. This caused them to focus on me. Bullets ripped through the foliage and despite myself, I let out a scream. Staying low to the ground I crawled further away from them with the goal of using the side of the condo as cover.

Hot pain sliced through my right calf and I gave a harsh yelp. I drug myself up and against the side of the condo, putting a hand to my leg. It came away wet with blood. I tore my attention away from my injured leg when someone crunched down on the bushes I had vacated. I reached for my gun, which in my panic, was still lying on the ground.

I fumbled to reach the knife concealed in my waistband, but I didn't need it as the back of the man's head exploded and he fell forward dead.

"You okay?" John asked as he ran up to me.

"I got hit."

John kneeled down and examined my leg. I let out a hiss as he poked at the wound.

"There's no bullet in there. It just grazed you." John stood up. "You goin' to be okay to walk?"

"Yeah, just hand me my gun." I pointed to where the dead guy had fallen. John reached underneath the guy and pulled out my AR15.

"Never lose your weapon," John chastised me.

"I was a little occupied," I murmured as I took my gun back.

I tested out some weight on my leg. With a missing toe and now this, I was really gibbled. I'd probably be just holding them back.

"Maybe you should just stay here," John said, clearly thinking the same thing.

I looked around. "Where's Ethan?"

"He's not behind me?" John's eyes went wide. "We killed the other mercenary and then went after the other guy shootin' at you."

We ran around the fallen mercenary and out onto the street, but I couldn't spot Ethan.

"He wasn't shot was he?!"

"No, he said he was fine and that he'd be right behind me," John said, running his hands down his face.

"Come out, come out where ever you are!" an unfamiliar voice yelled through the streets. "I suggest you listen or the country boy gets it!"

My heart lurched. They had Ethan. Further down the street where the voice had come from, there was a mass of figures. They appeared like black shadows against the fiery backdrop that had now taken over more than three units.

"What do we do?" I asked.

"They want somethin' from us," john said ominously.

"I will shoot the guy if you don't come forward with your hands in the air," the voice prompted.

I looked at John and saw the same look in his face that he had when Taylor had died. He was out of options. We both were. If we just started shooting, they'd definitely kill Ethan.

"Now!" the guy prompted.

We shouldered our guns and walked up to them with our hands in the air. I was sweating through my shirt from the mix of fear and heat rolling off of the fire gaining ground. On the bright side, the terror reduced the pain in my leg to a mere pinprick. John was holding his head high, not looking in the least scared. I tried to imitate him but as we drew near, it became impossible.

They had Ethan on his knees with a gun pointed right at his head. He gave me look that was hard to place. Somewhere between an apology and a goodbye. My throat swelled as I tried to swallow. Would the last thing I said to him be telling him to fuck off? That's not how I wanted it to happen.

The man who had yelled for us wasn't the one holding the gun, he wasn't in front of the rest of mercenaries. There were six right here, but who knows how many were still slithers from condo to condo. They converged on us and relieved us of our guns—including the Beretta I had stashed in my waistband and my ammo bag, then backed up and trained their own guns on us.

"Smart move," the guy said. "Now don't try anything stupid."

"What do you want?" John asked, wasting no time.

"It's pretty simple. We've come for Wyatt, he's been ignoring us lately and we can't have our business partners starting that," the guy tsked.

"He's no longer in charge," John said.

"Where is he?"

John jerked his chin up front. "Being held in that condo," John paused, "or he was. They might have left for fear of bein' burned alive."

The leader of the small group barked orders for two of the men to go and fetch Wyatt—just Wyatt.

"Well, while we're waiting, you can answer my other question. What happened at the hospital?"

My hands trembled slightly as I prepared to answer. John gave me a small shake of his head, telling me to stay quiet. The leader turned his attention on me, his narrowed eyes looking me over.

"I might have use for you if you tell me. Natural blondes are rare these days." The nasty grin on his face made me want to peel it off with my hunting knife.

If they knew how much of a hand we had in shutting down that place, they might just kill us right here. I'd have to be very careful with my word choice. The leader wiped the sweat from his forehead. The heat from the fire could be felt even this far away from it.

"Amelia's dead," I said.

The grin melted from his face. "They were a major business partner of ours. Now what are we to do with the immune? They had military hook-ups. Lots of guns and ammo to trade."

The guy took a step towards me and I held my ground. My anger was starting to overtake the fear. These people attacked us because they could no longer do their shady dealings? They were going to pay, somehow. I just had to figure out that part without risking them shooting Ethan—or us.

"Found 'em!" one of the returning mercenaries yelled.

The leader gave me one last hard look and then turned to see. The two practically were dragging Wyatt, who was screaming and wailing at the same time.

"Grant and Oscar were one of us!" Wyatt yelled hysterically. I guess that meant they had shot the others, including the guard.

"There is no us, shithead," the leader spat.

The two released Wyatt and he flopped to the ground, then they returned to pointing their guns at us. The leader walked up to Wyatt and punted him in the ribs. Wyatt let out a wheeze, curling into the fetal position.

"I was going to ask where you've been," the leader looked back at us, "but I already got the answer to that."

Wyatt kneeled and latched onto the guy's boots. "Please, Shawn. Don't kill me, I can be one of you guys."

The leader let out a sound of disgust. "I'm not Shawn, he had more important things to do. But he does send his regards." The guy kicked out at the groveling Wyatt and he fell back to the ground. "You could never be one of us, but that crazy bastard you sent us sure fits right in."

"Who?"

"Oh, he's around here somewhere looking for a particular ... skirt," the leader said with a smirk. "You'll be seeing him soon."

John and I shared a look. Who the hell was he talking about? The only crazy person I could think of was Byron ... No. He'd come back for Zoe. My breath started to come faster as I fought the urge to hyperventilate.

"What?" John whispered.

"Byron," I barely said back. "I think he's looking for Zoe."

John stiffened. "There, you got what you came for," he said, trying to move this along.

The leader sighed. "Well not entirely, but this is a good start." He pulled out a pistol and shot Wyatt right in the street. His body shuddered once and then spread out until he was lying stretched out on the pavement.

"Now that he's dealt with, that leaves you Blondie," he said, walking over to me.

Ethan dove for us, but one of the mercenaries grabbed him and bashed his head into the street. He pulled Ethan up, revealing a bloody, but angry face. Ethan struggled some more so the one guy used the butt of his rifle to smash the back of his head. Ethan slumped forward unconscious back to the ground.

I lurched forward, but the leader stopped me by pointing his own gun at me. "Uh-uh. He's fine, just a little bump that's all. Now, explain what happened at the hospital."

"They're all dead, what more do you need to know," I gritted through clenched teeth.

"I wanna know who did it," he enunciated the last two words, like he was worried I was slow.

"They did it to themselves," I said back slowly.

The guy scowled, not having liked my answer and stepped closer to me, the gun still pointed at me. John bounced back and forth on his feet, looking like he was getting ready to strike. They'd shoot him and me if he did that.

"I want a better answer than that. Who killed Amelia?"

"She killed herself," John answered for me. "Shot herself right in the head when the place fell."

The leader soaked in the information. "Too bad, I kinda liked that cold bitch."

"Uh, boss. There's some dead fucks headin' our way," one of the goons said.

"You two, go take them out," the leader instructed with a wave of his hands.

They took off to the front gate where infected were sneaking in. The fire was higher than the stone walls and was no doubt attracting the infected like a star in the dark night. Not only was this place going to be burned to the ground, infected would eventually overrun us. There was no safe place anymore.

The leader turned back to me, but before he could say anything, a familiar voice yelled, "Bailey. John. Down!"

We flew to the ground just as shots erupted overhead. There were so many, it was impossible to pinpoint where they were coming from. The leader and the other's returned fire, but it was clear they couldn't see just where it was coming from. One of the mercenaries got hit and went flying back. The others scrambled to get out of the range of fire. The leader pointed his gun down at me, ready to pull the trigger as he ducked and dodged the impeding bullets.

I heard what could only be described as a war cry sound out from my left. It even got the leaders attention. I looked to see Roy running and screaming like a madman from the sidewalk shooting off an automatic gun. John grabbed my arm and yanked me back. Together we scuttled away as bullets ricocheted off the spot on the cement we had just vacated. Roy couldn't aim worth shit.

The leader turned just in time to be impaled by Ron's assault, but he still managed to fire a few rounds from his own gun.

I screamed as I watched Roy jerk to the side having been hit by the mercenary. Roy's automatic fire stopped and both bodies fell to the ground.

"Roy!" I yelled, running over to him.

He had been shot twice, one in the shoulder and the other in the stomach. He was gurgling and talking incoherently. The other gunfire faded into the distance as I focused on finding the wounds and trying to stop the bleeding.

"Roy, hold on!" I pleaded.

I ripped open his shirt and shredded the bottom of it. Using the balled up fabric, I pushed it on the stomach wound that was gushing blood. The shoulder shot wouldn't be fetal, but the stomach one would be if he didn't get help immediately.

John looked him over. "We need Crystal."

"Go find, her," I said and when John didn't move, I screamed, "now!"

"You need a weapon," John said, half sitting, half standing.

"I got Roy's, now go find her!"

John nodded and took off for the medic center. Please let Crystal still be alive. She needed to save Roy. I turned down to Roy who was paler than I had ever seen him. He had naturally darker skin, but even that had faded as he continued to stain the street with blood.

"Hold on," I said, my eyes tearing up.

His whole body jerked as he coughed up a mouthful of blood. He was rasping something, but I couldn't make out the words. I placed an ear close to his mouth.

"A ... man ... da."

"You're going to be fine. You'll see Amanda soon," I said, trying and failing at keeping the panic from my voice.

"Wat ... ch h ... er," he said between struggling for air and trying to expel the blood.

"Of course," I promised.

He closed his eyes.

"No, don't do that Roy. Keep your eyes open!"

I tried to move his head from side to side to keep him awake, but the only response I got was fluttering behind his eyelids.

"Roy, stay with me," I pleaded as the tears leaked down my face.

The fluttering stopped when Roy gave one last rasp, then his chest went still.

"No ..." I mumbled.

Not another friend.