Hours. That’s what it takes until we finally find a small abandoned house on the border of Nevada and Utah. Joseph’s head hangs heavily, bobbing when I stop the car.
“This is where we’re staying?” Tyson asks, disgust and disbelief evident in his tired voice. I nod gently and tug the keys out of the ignition and step out into the cool fall air. It’s surprisingly cold here, the cold touches my skin like icy fingers that are trying hard to pull me somewhere far away. I glance back at the group that followed me out of the city. I’ve seen what this virus does, it kills and re spawns with no regrets. I know I’m the reason that Kota looks so distraught and Tyson looks like he’s on the verge of breaking.
Kota picks up Joseph’s little body and carries him toward the building when Tyson returns from his sweep of it. Tyson pulls the trunk open and slings most of the bags over his shoulder and walks to the door without a word. My heart stings as I pick up the metal briefcase and the last of the bags and follow their lead. Once inside, Tyson has a hammer and nails clutched in one of his hands, big planks of wood in the other, and I can hear Kota whispering things to Joseph.
“Kota, my tummy hurts,” I hear Joseph’s tiny voice whisper and I bite my lip.
“You gonna just stand around, or are you gonna help me?” Tyson snaps from behind me and I whip around. He thrusts the planks in my direction with a glare and I avert my eyes to the floor. He sighs heavily and takes one of the planks, holding it steady against the wall as he bangs a nail into it with the hammer.
“I’m good now. Go back to doing nothing,” Tyson spits as he takes the planks and moves away from the bombarded door. A feeling of sadness settles on the edges of my throat and I open one of the 15 bags in search of blankets. We have to have something to lay on when we sleep.
“Hey, Madie? Do we have any water available?” Kota pokes his head around the corner and I nod, tossing the bottle at him that I had just happened to pull from the bag in front of me. He gives me a small smile, before disappearing back into the room where I imagine Joseph is laying on Kota’s jacket curled in a ball crying. I pull most of the blankets out and lay them down in front of me. Two big sleeping bags, eight blankets, and three pillows. This won’t be enough to keep us warm through the close coming winter. I stand, with five blankets bunched in my arms and a pillow draped over my good shoulder, and walk into the room where Kota holds Joseph close to him as the small boys body shakes violently.  
“Kota…?” I stop short when his bloodshot, puffy brown eyes meet mine.
“Something’s wrong, Madie… This isn’t right…” he whispers, careful not to wake the sleeping boy. “It’s as if his body is on fire, but he shakes as if he’s freezing. He’s pale, his body won’t stop convulsing, and he’s dry heaving.” My hands go cold as I sit the blankets on the floor.
“I’ll have Tyson help me look for a bucket,” I mumble and turn to leave the room.
“Madie.” Kota’s voice stops me in my tracks, but I refuse to turn around and look at him. “Do you think it’s…?” I shrug my shoulder.
“We can only hope that it isn’t,” I whisper and leave the room. Tyson is kneeling in front of one of the bags, rummaging inside of it for something he doesn’t seem to find.
“Would you mind helping me find a bucket?” I ask and his shoulders flinch as if I’ve thrown something at him.
“What in the hell for?” he snaps, turning his head and glaring sharply in my direction. I sigh and sag my shoulders in defeat.
“Never mind, I’ll find one myself. Sorry I asked.” I turn and walk out of the room. The house only seems to have three rooms, very small rooms at that. There is no glass for the windows that are now crisscrossed with planks of wood thanks to Tyson, and it also lacks doors on the inside. The counter is no longer, rotted wood decorates the kitchen area, the stuffy smell of mold makes me want to vomit. Under the old molded counter I find exactly what I’m looking for. God knows what it was previously used for, but it will be enough. I pick it up and tip it over. Media Inc. is printed in almost invisible print on the bottom of bucket. No holes, though. That’s a good sign, that means rust hasn’t eaten its way through it yet. I carry it back to Kota, receiving a disgusted glare from my younger brother as I pass by his cowered figure in the corner of the room.
“How is he?” I ask. Kota shrugs and places the bucket near his nephew.
“What’s happening, Madie? I was just sleeping on the couch, my mom and sisters left for the store two hours before you came along. Where are they, Madie? Are they dead? Are they still alive? Joseph is an orphan now for all we know. We can’t protect him, especially if he has it,” Kota whispers. I touch his shoulder gently and tug at his shirt, trying to coax him to his feet. He obliges and wraps his arms around my shoulders, sobbing into my tangle of hair. He squeezes me tightly, my injured shoulder screams to be released, but soothing him is more important than my health right now. I hug him back with my good arm, grasping his waist as tightly as I can.
“I know you’re scared, Kota. I’m just as scared as you are, but we have to stay strong for not only Tyson and Joseph, but those who have survived this and for us as well. If one of us breaks, the other is bound to follow,” I whisper into his shirt, tears blurring my vision.
“But Madie, what’ll happen if one of us dies? What’s gonna happen then?” he asks, pulling back just enough to look down at me. I shrug and pull him back to me, holding onto him tightly. No matter what, I can’t lose him or Tyson. They’re the only thing keeping me sane at the moment. Little Joseph’s body stirs, and he bolts upright, grabbing and clutching the bucket close to him as he heaves black liquid into it. Kota turns toward him quickly, letting me go and kneeling beside his nephew in a blur of movement.
“Kota,” Joseph whispers after he’s finished vomiting. Kota holds him close to him, and he glances up at me. Without saying a word, I know he wants me to take the bucket and dispose of the liquid inside. I nod to him and pick the bucket up by the handle, careful not to slosh the insides anywhere as I walk passed Tyson and out the front door that, with enough force, I am able to pry open without taking out any nails. I dump the bucket outside by the road, and return to the house just before the sun slips behind the mountains in the distance. Tyson is waiting at the door for me, holding a hammer to put the nails back into the wall.
“What was in that?” he asks once I’ve closed the door behind me. He pounds the nails back into the wall as he waits for my answer. 
“It’s probably better if you didn’t know,” I mumble, knowing my brother much to well to let him know that it was vomit. He glances over at me before returning to his corner, cowering under a blanket. I walk back into the room where Kota sits next to Joseph, holding his hand gently.
“It’s going to get a lot colder tonight, so you may want to move into the bigger room where there’s a fireplace,” I tell him and he looks up from Joseph’s hand.
“Will Tyson be okay with the vomiting?” he asks and I lightly laugh, but stop when I realize how dire the situation we’re in is.
“Probably not, but he’ll get over it. It’s probably going to dip down just passed freezing tonight, and he’s used to warmth, so I doubt he’s going to argue much once the cold settles in.” Kota nods before gently tucking his arms under his nephew’s small body and we move to the main room. I set the bucket next to the pile of blankets and pillows I brought out with me and lay them neatly on the floor so they look almost desirable to sleep on. Kota sets Joseph gently down onto the blankets and covers him under a layer. He turns to me and gestures toward the bags behind me, leaning against the wall in a pile.
“What food can we ration out for the night?” he asks and I walk over to the bags, prying them open and removing three cans of Spam, handing them to Kota. His lips turn up in disgust, but he doesn’t reject it or the spoons and knife I hand him.
“Oh, and before we left I grabbed candles, some firewood from out back, a lot of paper, and five lighters and ten bunches of matches.” He throws his head in the direction of a large duffle bag and I smile, knowing that what I forgot, my partner didn’t.
“Grab some wood and paper from the duffle bag, Tyson. There’s matches and lighters in there too,” I tell him and jerk my thumb in the direction of the bag. He nods and stands up, nodding his head to Kota as he offers him a can and spoon. He unzips the bag and rummages around for a few seconds before pulling out what I told him to. He throws them into the old brick fireplace and lights a piece of paper on fire, blowing gently on it in attempt to get the flames to move to the wood. When it does, and the dim room fills with the light glow of the fire, we all sit in front of it, warming our already almost numb limbs.
“I haven’t had Spam since senior year of high school when I got food poisoning from a can that was six years expired. Thanks for that by the way, Madie,” Kota says, laughing lightly as he recalls the entire week of hell I put him through when I mixed up the cans.
“It wasn’t that big of a deal.” I roll my eyes at the fire and dip my spoon back into the can. Kota scoffs and turns to face me head on.
“I went to the hospital because of that! I almost died!” Kota says, losing his cool when the end of his sentence gets cut off by his own laugh. It’s a light hearted laugh that throws memories into my face, and makes me want to cry. I miss the old times we had, before the files, Norman, and the army stepped into our lives and turned everything upside down.

Sure, the day was cold, but the night was even worse. The blankets we were able to scrimmage up in the rush to leave the city and small fire we lit just after sundown didn’t seem to do anything. Kota laid next to Joseph, holding him tightly, only moving away when Joseph would jolt up and clutch the bucket close to him, vomiting black liquid into it, then settling back down beside his uncle with a whimper. Tyson sat cowered in the corner, shaking under the three blankets I handed him, sneezing occasionally when dust would flutter up into his face. I laid close to the fire, coaxing it back to life when it would start to die, and shook hard under my own three blankets.
When the sun finally begins to color the sky with pinks and oranges, I stretch my good arm above my head, hissing when I roll my bad shoulder. The room is still dark, but I can make out some things, such as my brother slumped against the wall and Joseph watching me from under Kota’s arm, his blue veined and red ringed eyes watching me. I turn my eyes away, looking him in eye pains me. Then I hear a soft sound. I look around the room, but nothing jumps out at me. Tyson still lays heavy against the wall, Kota still snores softly. I glance at Joseph again, and his cracked and veiny lips move, forming the sound I had just heard.
“Madie.” His voice is inaudible, but just watching his lips mold my name makes the hair on my arms stand up. I crawl slowly over to him, careful not to make the floorboards under me creak and squeak. I kneel down close to his face.
“Am I going to die?” his soft voice asks and my eyes flicker from black to white. I sit up slightly to look down at him and shake my head hard.
“No. No you aren’t,” I whisper, even though deep down at the bottom of my heart, I know that I am lying. He is dying, and there isn’t anything I can do to stop it. He smiles softly and closes his eyes. I return to my pile of blankets and sit down in a heavy heap, burying my head under the pillows. After another hour or so, the others begin to stir themselves out of their own slumbers. The first to wake is my brother. I know he is awake when he falls to the floor from his position against the wall. When his head bounces off the floorboards, he jolts up with a shriek and looks around the room in confusion. When his eyes land on me, they soften and he rubs at his forehead.
“I was hoping this was just some kind of bad dream,” he mumbles and stands up from the floor. I look up at him as he walks over to the fireplace and begins to poke at the coals with a stick from the floor. Once he’s coaxed the fire to a steady flame, he sits down on his butt and rubs at his eyes with the heel of his hands. I reach out from under my blankets and touch his shoe, he slept with them on his feet to keep his feet from numbing.
“It’s okay, everything will be fine as long as we stick together,” I whisper and he looks down at me. I give him a weak smile before bringing my hand back under the blanket and nuzzling back down into the warm bedding. I close my eyes and sigh, the soft glow of the fire warming my face. It only seems like minutes that I have my eyes closed, but when I reopen them, Kota is kneeling over me, shaking my shoulder gently.
“Hey,” he says softly and gives me a weak smile. I yawn and my right eye tears up. “You awake now?” he asks gently and I nod, stretching my left arm above my head.
“Yeah,” I mumble through a yawn, my voice straining as I stretch my arm toward the fireplace. Sunlight streams through the cracks in the boarded up windows and I assume it’s somewhere near noon now.
“Madie,” Kota says gently and I look up at him. His eyes are directed behind me, and when I roll over to see what he’s looking at, my fingers go cold. Joseph lays heavy on top of the blankets, panting hard. His eyes are closed, but his face is blue with veins and his eyelids are pink and pussy. His cheeks are sunken in and his fingernails are black.
“Shit,” I curse and sit up quickly, crawling over to Joseph’s tiny, fever ridden body. I lay my hand onto his forehead, his sweat tinting the back of my hand brown with filth. His eyes open slowly and his almost black eyes meet mine. “Oh God,” I whisper under my breath and pull my hand back, scooting away from him. I stand up and grab Kota by the back of his shirt, dragging him into the other room behind me.
“What?” he demands. I sigh and reach down, holding his hand with my free one.
“Kota, he isn’t going to make it… His eyes are dilated passed area three… His fingertips are black, his cheeks are sunken in, and his nails and teeth are bearing,” I whisper and his hand tightens around mine as he lets the information sink in.
“And there isn’t anything we can do?” he asks and I shake my head solemnly. His eyes narrow down at me and he shakes his head hard.
“You believed that with subject 983 as well, but you were proven wrong in that situation as well, do you not recall? You aren’t always right, Madie, and this time you aren’t right either,” he snarls before ripping his hand from my hold and brushing past me as he leaves the room. I rub at my sore forehead with my fingertips and leave the room, pulling the boards from the front door as I attempt to leave the house. Once all the boards have been pulled from the door, I pull it open and walk into the warm winter air. I approach the car and pull the door open when I get close enough to.
“And what are you doing?” asks a voice from behind me as I reach into the glove box to retrieve the small hand held radio I brought with me from Norman. I turn and sit in the passenger seat and look up at my brother.
“Do you remember when we had one of these when we were young?” I ask and laugh softly. His eyebrows raise in question.
“Look, I’m sorry for being so upfront with you lately. I might come off a little angry and resentful sometimes, but I really appreciate you bringing me with you,” he says and I roll my eyes as I turn the dials on the face of the radio. Nothing but static fills the air and I sigh.
“I was really hoping for a message of some sort to come through the static,” I mumble. I continue to turn the dials, but after a minute or so of nothing but static, I sigh and stand up, sitting the radio on top of the car.
“You look so old,” I say to my brother and poke at one of the many scars on his cheeks. His eyes narrow at me and he scowls.
“Aren’t you like almost 20?” he asks and I roll my eyes.
“You’re three years off, stupid.” He laughs and kicks a rock with his shoe. He glances up at me and lets out a heavy, heart filled sigh.
“I miss mom,” he whispers and I sigh, shaking my head.
“Let’s not talk about that,” I say and he nods softly. The radio behind me growls before a familiar voice comes through the static.
“I’m not sure how many people can hear me. Madie, I hope you stayed tuned into this channel so you can hear what I’m about to tell you,” Mole’s voice says, cracking in and out of the static. “Norman has been shut down, I malfunctioned the containment fields and breached their chemical leak system. There’s nothing alive in there anymore, it’s all clean for you and Dakota to get into.” Tyson looks over at me, watching me carefully.

“I also shut down a medical facility 100 miles outside of Boston, just off of Route 117, before the wildlife refuge. Just like in Norman, there isn’t anything alive in there anymore. I reprogrammed the system, it will only open for you, Madie.”

“Johnathan?” calls a voice in the background of the static, behind Mole’s voice. “Johnathan, are you in there?”

“Shit. Madie, no matter what, you and Dakota must survive. It hasn’t reached here yet, but it will. You and your partner are the last hope for humanity.”

“Johnathan.” The voice is just as clear as Mole’s is now.

“Good luck, Madie. Goodbye.”

“Johnathan?” asks the other voice and the soft click of a bullet sliding into the chamber of a gun fills the static.

“I love you mom,” Mole says gently. A single gunshot slices through the static, then the heavy thud of something landing on the floor. After a couple seconds of silence another gunshot follows. I shriek and hold the radio away from me to see it clearer.

“Mole?” I whisper, my voice betraying me as it cracks.

“What was that, Madie?” Tyson asks and I turn toward him, holding the radio in my hands.

“A friend from back in Norman,” I whisper and throw the radio onto the ground.

“This is an emergency broadcast for everybody around the country. A mass evacuation has begun in all cities. Several safe areas have been set up across the country, please go to the nearest one to you. Boston, San Diego, Lansing, and Detroit have been dedicated for safe areas,” the radio announces and my foot stops just shy of the top of the radio.
“This is an emergency broadcast for everybody around the country-” I stomp on the radio, smashing it to pieces. “A mass evacuation,” the voice continues before dying out, slowing to a stop. I kick the broken pieces away from me with a scowl. Tyson looks at me, his eyebrows knitting themselves together.
“What was that all about?” he asks and I shake my head, tangling my fingers into my knotted hair.
“God damnit!” I yell and turn planting my fist into the side of the car. Tyson jumps when I hit the car and lays his hand onto my shoulder.
“Hey,” he whispers and his hand tightens around my bad shoulder. I turn toward him with a hiss, but when I notice how wide his eyes are and that they’re not on me, I know something is wrong.
“What?” I ask and look over the car. Coming toward us is the outline of a crowd. This isn’t a normal crowd, some are crawling while others are limping or turned in an odd direction. My eyes go wide and I grab Tyson’s arm, pulling him back into the house behind me.
“Kota, we have to get out of here. Now!” I shout, picking up the blankets Tyson and I slept with last night, stuffing them into the bags they came from. Kota stands up from Joseph’s side in alarm.
“What? Why the hell do we have to leave right now? Joseph isn’t going to be able to be moved for at least a month-” I cut him off by throwing my hand in the air.
“We can’t stay here! They’re coming!” I shout and Joseph stirs behind him. He doesn’t move from his position on the floor, but he opens his eyes and watches me.
“What do you mean they’re coming? Who’s coming?” he asks and I shake my head, stuffing the last of the blankets into the bag and turning toward him.
“The creatures are coming,” I hiss. Why can’t he just get it through his head that if we don’t move, we’ll die? He rolls his eyes and leans down next to Joseph again.
“Kota!” I shout and he whips his head around to glare at me.
“You just want me to leave Joseph behind so he won’t bother us anymore, right? Well guess what Madie, you aren’t scaring me this time.” I walk over to his and slap him across the back of the head as hard as I can. When he turns to shout at me, I hit him again.
“Now you listen to me, right now. I don’t want to leave him behind, that’s why I’m telling you this now! They’re coming, and they know that we’re here! They can smell us,” I tell him and he shakes his head and rubs the back of his neck with his hand. Joseph reaches toward Kota and grabs the bottom of his pants.
“Kota,” he whispers. “Kota, run away. I’ll protect you.” His eyes go wide as he kneels down and takes his nephew’s hand.
“I will not leave you, no matter what,” he says and Joseph shakes his head, forcing his weak body into a sitting position. His now paper-like bones snap under his weight.
“Run away.” He lets go of Kota’s hand and flops back down onto the floor, panting heavily. He uses his arms to pull his useless body toward the wall, where he once again forces his body to sit up. “The man from the radio said that you and Madie have to live, so please Kota, run away.” He looks at me and nods, silently telling me to take his uncle away from him, to pick between him and Kota. I give a small nod and look over at my brother.
“Tyson, grab the bags and take them out,” I order and my brother does as he’s told, leaving me, Kota, and Joseph alone in the house. I take Kota’s hand and tug at him, but he rips it out of my hold.
“I am not leaving you here!” he yells and I grab his arm, and I somehow manage to pull him out of the house. Once outside, Tyson runs to my aid and helps me push a struggling Kota into the car. I run back to the door when we force Kota into the car and Tyson holds the car door closed.
“Thank you, Joseph. I love you,” I breath through the door before slamming it closed behind me and running to the car. The creatures are just outside the fences around the surrounding area of the house. Some have been caught in the fence, but the others are finding their ways over. I drive away quickly, as fast as I can. Kota sits in the back seat, screaming and writhing, yanking on the door handles and pounding on the windows, screaming Joseph’s name over and over again.
As we leave the little boy behind to fend for himself, I glance at the rearview mirror. The house, which is growing smaller and smaller the farther we get from it, has began to produce a thick, large cloud of black smoke. It wafts toward the sky, forming something that almost looks like a skull. I curse and press harder on the gas pedal, desperate to get away from the memories that are chasing behind us. Memories of the day I met the little boy, memories of the night I came to his mother, begging her and his grandmother to hide me, memories of the day I forced Kota to follow me to Norman, memories of the first time I’d seen Kota cry.
“I’m sorry, Kota,” I whisper to the steering wheel and close my eyes, squeezing them hard. Once I’ve allowed myself my moment of weakness, I open my eyes and narrow them at the road. The one thing that me and Kota must do is get back to Norman, back to the place that caused us so much pain and suffering in the first place. The place that I dread thinking about, little lone dragging Kota back there with me, but like Mole said, it’s for the sake of humanity. I glance over at my little brother. His head is hanging outside the window, his hair flapping in the wind as he watches the dissipating house behind us produce more and more smoke.
“Madie, do you-” I glare at him, and he shuts his mouth.
“Don’t say anything,” I whisper, careful not to catch the attention of Kota in the back seat with his head laying heavy against the window as he cries. Tyson nods gently and I return my thoughts to the road.

We’ve been driving for hours, but it feels almost like days. Kota’s head is laid heavy against the window, and I try hard to soften any sharp turns or hard bumps. Tyson has his head laid across his arms that are rested against the center console of the car, and every now and again he’ll mumble a woman’s name in his sleep. The road has been clear for miles now, the large rock formations towering far above us as we drive passed them, they seem almost like ghosts in the late evening air. We’re nearing a big city, I can tell by how many cars begin to prevent us moving in the same lane as before. Most are empty, but a few hold rotting corpses of those who weren’t lucky enough to get out alive, or those who refused to face the grim reality of having no one, and ended it before they could see the outcome of the outbreak that no one was notified about.
“Callie,” Tyson’s whispers in his sleep, and I silently wonder who she is, and if she is still alive after the virus took hold of the country. I yawn loudly and wipe sleep from my tired eyes. We’ve been driving for almost 10 hours, and the lack of sleep is really effecting me. Kota’s been asleep the entire time, and Tyson has for three hours.
“Kota?” I whisper as he begins to stir. One of his dull brown eyes opens to meet mine in the rearview mirror.
“What?” he snaps, his voice hoarse from sobbing. My heart slips into my stomach and my eyes blur with tears.
“I’m sorry, Kota,” I mumble and he rolls his one eye before closing it again.
“It doesn’t matter.” That’s where he ends the conversation. He says nothing more, and once again I am left to stare blankly ahead of us as the sun once again leaves the sky for the night.
===================================================

“So, you’re telling me that there isn’t anything to eat?” Tyson shrieks and I sigh, rubbing at my forehead.

“Yes, but it’s okay. We’ll probably be able to find something…” I trail off as my eyes wonder to Kota. He’s sitting hunkered in a corner, rocking back and forth slightly.

“And if we don’t?” Tyson demands and my eyes return themselves to him.

“Then we go without dinner for the night,” I say and shrug.

“Why are you not making this a big deal? We literally left all of the food back at that house!” I shrug again and lean against the wall. All of the food we had gathered before we left the city is now sitting in rot and ruin at the house that the creatures took; nearly 200 miles away.

“It’s not a big deal. I’ll just go out and find something,” I mumble and reach behind me for the pistol that’s sticking out of the back of my pants. I open the chamber to count the bullets inside. Seven bullets, that’s all that we have. I stuff it back down the back of my pants and pick myself back up off of the wall.

“Don’t worry about it. I’ll go find something.” I walk toward the door and a hand lays heavy on my good shoulder.

“Just find enough food for you and Tyson,” Kota’s ruff voice says to the back of my neck and I turn around in surprise.

“You have to eat too,” I say but when my eyes meet his, my hand falls from the doorknob to my side. “Kota?” I whisper and his pale eyes meet mine.

“Don’t worry about me. Go out and find some food for you and Tyson,” he says and boosts the black bag further up his back, his Ausie bouncing against his hip as he readjusts it.

“Kota?” I ask as he walks passed me and opens the door.

“Thanks for everything, Madie. Good bye.” With that he closes the door in my face and I fall to my knees, taken over by my emotions.

“Kota?” I whisper to the door and Tyson comes up behind me, hugging me tightly.

“It’s okay, Madie. He’s going to be fine,” he whispers into my hair and I sob.

“B-but Kota!” I scream and claw my way out of Tyson’s hold. I throw open the door and run after his trail of heavy boot prints in the snow. “Kota!” His figure stills for only a few seconds in the snow storm, before he begins to move again, throwing his hand into the air in a gesture that means that he’ll see me again. I collapse to my knees as I watch him disappear into the blizzard. The snow whips up around me, throwing my hair into my blurring eyes as I sob.

“Kota?” I whisper, knowing that he can’t hear me, but still wanting him to. “Kota, come back safe, okay?” I walk slowly back to the ski lodge we found high in the Rocky Mountains. I couldn’t tell you where we are, though I feel that we are somewhere near Idaho now. Kota didn’t want to stray too far from home, gripping the last bit of hope that his mother and sister somehow made it out alive, with all of his might. Now, without him holding me here, I have only Tyson. I press my forehead to the front door and sigh, my mistified breath swimming up and bouncing back off of the door. It’s cold, the heavy snowflakes cling tightly to my bare arms, and goosebumps trickle across my skin.

He’s run away again, and this time, I’m not sure if he’ll be returning anytime soon, or ever at that. He ran away when we were younger, being pushed over the edge by his father, who died a few days after he left. That’s what drew him back, the death of someone that he pretended to hate, but deep down, loved so dearly that he almost died too. I wonder if that is what it will take this time to draw him back, either me or Tyson dying. It’s almost like a magnet to him and me, when death comes, it’s always someone that we care for and brings out feelings that we didn’t know we had. I push open the door, leaving the ever so nagging negative thoughts outside in the cold.

Tyson is nowhere to be found, and I figure he’s asleep upstairs in the many beds that sit still waiting for customers that will never come. I walk over to one of the many recliners and sit down heavily, watching the flames lick up toward the sky that I can’t see, but still know that it’s there. Kota, why did you run away again? He always runs away from problems that come to him, it’s something that I’ve heard he’s always done. He never lives in reality, always locked away in a world I wish I could join him in.

Soon, sleep finds me, and I drift into a dream that I assume takes place months, maybe even years into the future. I can see myself, I’m lying on an old mattress that looks eaten away by wear or bugs. The room around me looks like an old parking garage, dirty and worn down. The mattress beneath me is stained with fresh blood, and my face is contorted with uncomfort, or maybe it’s pain? My stomach is bloated, and my long hair is dirty. Footsteps behind me make the other me stir, before letting out an agonizing scream.

“It’s okay! Just breath, the water is warm and everything should be fine. Casper is coming as quickly as he can. He was just outside in the city, scouting for anywhere that would be better for you,” the stranger says, kneeling beside my writhing and struggling body. I walk toward them. Somehow, I’ve discovered I have my own body to move freely in. I kick a piece of broken glass, and the stranger turns toward me quickly, pointing a gun in my direction. My eyes meet theirs, and I gasp.

“K-Kota?” I whisper and he lowers his gun, ushering me forward.

“Jesus, took you long enough, didn’t it?” he asks and I stand frozen. Someone hurries passed me, kneeling beside the other me.

“Sorry, sorry. I didn’t mean to stray so far, and I also didn’t think she was this close to going into labor,” says an older man. His beard it long and white, his hair slicked back on his head.

“Madie, I need you to breath,” the man says, pushing the other me’s legs open wide. I let out another agonizing scream and claw the mattress beneath me.

“Madie, Madie breath,” Kota whispers and I hiss through my teeth.

“Okay, Madie. I need you to push,” the other man says, and the other me cries out as she clings tightly to the mattress, the fabric ripping beneath her. And then, a piercing wail fills the air as the older man sits back on his heels, holding a bloody bundle of blankets away from his body.
“Congratulations,” the man says, smiling down at the crying bundle. “It’s a boy.”