>24 years old, 1 month into the outbreak<

The air was humid with the sun beating down on my back as I swung the axe down on a piece of wood, splitting it in half. I had the satellite radio on a stump beside me, but the only thing playing was static. There hasn't been any new information on the outbreak that was spreading like wild fire. Quinton says it's the beginning of the end of the world. People eating each other, coming back from the dead and repeating the cycle, it just doesn't sound real. Living this far away from town we were pretty safe, nobody ever comes this far out. Speaking of Quinton though...

I set the axe down on the cutting stump and headed inside the cabin. About a week ago Quinton came down with an awful fever, but we both knew we couldn't go into town, not with what's going on. They've got the whole place quarantined, supposedly the military were patrolling the streets. He's to stubborn to go anyways unless I knocked him out cold. I heard coughing as I entered the cabin, pulling a bandana over my face. It's his rule, he doesn't want me catching it.

"Drink this," I said, handing him the last amount of clean water we had. I needed to go down to the stream and collect some more to boil. He took the cup from me, sipping it slowly before laying back down.

"How are you feeling?" I asked him. He rolled his eyes, turning to look at me, his eyes were baggy and his face was pale.

"Like I'm dying," he grumbled, his voice rough and patchy.

"That's no funny," I snapped at him.

"I feel like shit then," he corrected himself, his answer still not any better then the first one.

"I'm gonna go see if I can find some willow bark to make some tea," I told him, getting up. Believe it or not the bark off a willow tree can help ease pain if you boil it into a tea.

"Hey, be careful out there," Quinton told me, giving me the most serious look I've ever seen.

I nodded my head before leaving the cabin, pulling the bandana down around my neck and taking a deep breath. I looked over at my crossbow leaning against the wall, with gathering the bark and collecting more water, I was already gonna have my hands full... I finally decided on leaving it behind and working fast. I headed into the forest towards an area I knew some willow trees grew, taking my knife and peeling off large chunks of bark, placing them in my bag. I headed towards the stream next, It was gonna take some time with the water level so low but hopefully it'll go by fast.

After about 45 minutes I screwed the lid tightly onto the water jug and began my haul home, the sun would be setting pretty soon. I was glad I cut up most of the fire wood before hand, had to sacrifice a hunting day for it though. As I walked out into the clearing, the cabin in my sights, I noticed something by the wood pile. It looked like a person? He was leaning over next to the radio I think I left playing earlier. Quinton suddenly opened the door, swinging a rifle at the trespassing stranger, by this point I'd set my supplies down and quickened my pace towards them. I watched the man take his focus off the radio and start hobbling as if he was injured straight for Quinton. He gave the man a warning before putting a bullet in his leg, fear sprouted through me as the man kept walking, not even phased. Quinton put another bullet in his chest, making the stranger stumble back slightly before continuing on as if he hadn't just been shot twice.

"Hey!" I yelled at the stranger as I was getting closer.

But that didn't stop the psychopath from stumbling into Quinton and sinking his teeth into his forearm, ripping the flesh right off. The rifle fell to the ground with a clatter as Quinton screamed in pain, trying to punch the man off of him. Panicking, I scooped up the axe I'd been using and without hesitation swung it into the guys neck, dark thick blood came out if of his neck as he slowly turned towards me, marking me as his next victim, an axe hanging from his neck leaving me weaponless.

"Quintin?!" I yelled, taking a step backwards as the thing walked towards me.

Whatever happened to this guy really messed him up, eyes faded over white, teeth rotting, and his skin almost looked like it was peeling off in places. Just the smell of him reminded me of an animal corpse that baked in the sun long and went bad. Distracted, I tripped over some chopped wood and fell backwards, the crazy man hovering over me and making the most unsettling growling noise. The guy suddenly collapsed to the ground beside me, eyes still open as they stared at me, the end of an arrow imbedded into the back of his skull. I was breathing heavily as I turned and looked at Quinton holding my crossbow, blood dripping from his arm.

There was a pause as we stared at each other, nothing but the sound of birds chirping from tree tops, the wind shuffling through the branches lightly. It was almost peaceful as my heart shattered. Because we both knew, we both listened to the news channel before it went down what would happen if you got bit, so we both knew what was coming...

"Get in the truck, we're going to the hospital," I stood up, my legs threatening to give out underneath me. My mind was racing and my heart was pounding as my eyes refused to look away from the teethmarks.

"Willow..." he said in a low, calm voice.

"No!" I screamed, finally meeting his eyes.

I blinked as I stared at him, he looked better then he had in weeks? A smile was hiding on his lips, the shaking fever looked as if it'd cured itself, he looked healthy! Maybe what we heard was wrong, maybe he'd be alright?

"You saw this thing take bullets like it was nothing, it has to be a headshot, you hear me?" He nodded in my direction. I nodded my head back to him, absorbing his words.

"Quinton... get in the truck," I asked again, my voice cracking as I could feel tears start to well up in my eyes, my nose starting to run.

"It's not safe here anymore, those gun shots probably will draw in more. Maybe further up the mountain will be safer, farther from the city," he spoke, eyes staring into the forest.

I finally exploded, stepping closer to him and hitting him in the chest. I stopped fighting the tears and let them stain down my cheeks.

"Why won't you get in the truck dammit!" I sobbed like a child. He grabbed my hands from hitting him and tugged me closer, arms wrapping around me in hug... this was the first time he'd ever shown me this sort of affection. But I ignored that and wrapped my arms tightly around his torso, digging my head into his chest. His heart beat was racing, he was afraid, only he knew how to keep composure. He pulled away, and wiped a tear from my cheek.

"It'll be dark soon, let's head in," he walked away.

I hesitated before following him in, leaving the corpse outside and shutting the door behind me. I stood in the doorway, not sure what to do as I watched Quinton walk over to the bed where he laid sick for weeks and pull out a box from under it. Now in front of me, he opened the lid of the small box and held it towards me.

"What's this?" I asked, looking at the silvery curved knife inside the box.

"It's a karambit blade, my partner back in the marines used to take this everywhere with him before he died in the field. You two are a lot alike, so I want you to hang onto to for me," he smiled, placing it in my hand. The blade was light, comfortable in my hand as I gripped it.

We sat for hours in the cabin, there'd be no sleeping tonight as I got used to the new knife in my hand, refusing to set it down as I ran my thumb over it. Quinton had gone from better to worse, sitting on the bed, to laying down. His face had sunk in, skin gone pale, breathing slow. I sat beside him, waiting.

"Don't use the gun, it'll bring more of those damn biters," he told me.

I guess that's what we're calling them... I shook my head slowly, staring at my hands. I wanted to say something, tell him how grateful I was for him taking me in. That he was the first person to show me kindness, to teach me to take care of myself, be strong, and to survive which would be more important to me now then ever. It was because of all those things that I owed him this, hell I owe him my life but this was different. I owe him not to let him become one of those things. A shaky breath left my body.

"I had a wife, and kid before I went into the service," he randomly said. I finally met his eyes, he wasn't looking at me, but he had a weak smile on his lips.

"What happened to them?" I asked. His voice sounded tired as his spoke.

"Car accident, drunk driver ran right into the truck and pushed it right off the bridge," he said, eyes looking out the window where the truck was parked out front. That's when it clicked that the truck outside was the truck his family died in, making my heart hurt.

"I'm sorry Quinton..." I apologized in a hushed voice.

"It's okay, cause I got the privilege to meet you, and teach you all the things I never got to teach my son, Liam," his voice cracked before coughing, blood staining his lips. By this point we were both crying.

"You were the closest thing I ever had to a father," I confessed to him, hand grabbing onto his. his fingers weakly gripped mine, shaking.

"You kick this outbreak in the ass, you understand?" He squeezed my hand, holding back his coughing.

"I will, I promise!" I shook my head, watching his smile, something I never got to see until today, slowly drop. His hand going limp in mine as his eyes shut themselves.

My eyes squeezed shut, tears dripping my chin as I held in my emotions with shaky breaths that hitched in my throat. I set his hand down gently, standing up and placing a kiss on his cold forehead. I pressed my head against his, eyes still shut as I brought the knife closer and felt blood run across my hand as it sank the blade into his temple.

"Thank you... I hope you're with your family now," I whispered.