Scarlet

December 6, 2006

When Kate Green is assigned to go undercover to investigate the Scarecrow Mansion, she chooses to wear scarlet.

It's quite simple really. She has to wear something fancy, because she's going to be among the cream of the crop of society, or at least, the cream of the crop of the DBR Corporation. She needs to look the part. And to do that, she chooses to wear scarlet. It's what people describe as a "sensual colour." Makes sense that if she can get people's eyes going in one direction, she can make their tongues go in the other. Make them dance to their tune. Get someone to spill the beans to the extent that AMS can move in and shut DBR down, all claims of plausible deniability aside.

She's also packing a sub-machine gun under her dress with as much ammo as she can carry, because if the past few years have taught her anything, it's that you should always have enough ammo to fight your way through a city. Not that she's going to a city, but AMS has a history with houses, and it isn't a good one. Lots of shooting and lots of dead people tend to result.

So she's in a safehouse, looking in a mirror, putting on some earrings. Trying to tell herself that it's all going to be normal. Quick, simple job, nothing like Venice. She tells herself that, because it's about the only thing that stops her hands from shaking.

"You ready?"

Last earring on, she turns to see her partner. Ryan Taylor.

"Hmm?"

James Taylor's brother.

"I said, are you ready?"

Funny how that works. That James had a brother, and he's joined AMS, and he's partnered with the last person that saw James alive.

"Oh," Kate says. "Yes. I'm ready."

If she finds the genius that set this up, at least one head is going to roll.

"Good." He pauses, looking over her, showing that if nothing else, she'll be wearing the right colour to the party. "You look nice."

"Thanks," she says.

Little formalities. Small talk before they head out of the safe house and walk to a car parked three blocks away before driving. Maybe it's paranoia, but paranoia tends to keep one alive.

Maybe if the world was a bit more paranoid, the likes of Curien and Goldman would have been stopped in their tracks.

December 6, 2006

When she enters the party, her eyes flash scarlet.

She's aware of the concept of the 1%. She's never given it too much thought. She figures that if she can afford a dress like the one she's wearing (believe it or not, AMS agents have to pay for their own clothes), she might be among them. But still, she can't help but feel a stab of anger as she and Ryan walk through the doors. Seeing the high and mighty wine and dine. Venice was destroyed three years ago. This is a world where zombies are a known quantity. They either work for, or know people who work for, a corporation that's been proven to have had at least some connection with these incidents. Most of them are probably innocent. But…

But it makes her angry. She knows why Goldman wanted to end the human race. Doesn't make him less insane, but it does make you less inclined to save members of your own species when they've got their heads in the clouds.

"You okay?"

She looks at Ryan. The look on his face tells her that he doesn't particularly care, but he's asking anyway for the sake of politeness.

"You okay?" he asks again.

"Fine. Why?"

"Well, you've got your left fist clenched like you want to cut into it, and your right is down by your leg near your gun, so-"

"Keep it down," she hisses.

He holds up his hands in mock protest. "Fine, fine, whatever. I'm going to get something to eat. Oh, and, get the lie of the land."

"You do that," she murmurs.

He heads off and she sighs.

It's going to be a long night.

December 6, 2006

It's going to be a long night.

It's never a short night, is it? She couldn't go to Scarecrow Mansion and just do her job now, could she? She couldn't just wine and dine, get someone to spill the beans, and heck, maybe get someone's number? Nup. This is a mansion. And if history has taught AMS agents anything, it's that you should never go to mansions without plenty of ammo. Because inevitably, hordes of undead will come at you, seeking to rip you limb from limb.

They've already done a good job with most of the party guests.

She opens fire in short controlled bursts, as does Ryan. She'll give him this, he may be new, but he's keeping his cool. The undead come at them. The undead fall. Problem is, there's a lot of them, and they show no sign of slowing down.

She keeps firing. The undead keep falling.

"Kate."

She keeps her finger down on the trigger. Headshots work the best, but you can still down a zombie if you pump it full of enough lead.

"Kate."

They shouldn't be here, she tells herself. James sacrificed himself. James stopped Goldman's plan. Goldman is dead. Curien is dead. This shouldn't be happening. Not like this.

"Kate!"

Not again.

"Kate, enough."

"Hmm?" She blinks. Ryan's staring at her. "What?"

He nods at the pile of bodies before them. That, and the pile of shell casings. That, and how she's still got her finger on the trigger, not letting go. Just got her body going on instinct rather than intellect. A mind that keeps wandering back to Venice. To James. To everyone and everything that was lost.

"Sorry," she says. She empties the clip of the SMG and puts in another one.

"Yeah, about that," Ryan says.

She doesn't look at him as she slides the clip in. "Got something to say Ryan?"

"Just…take it easy, okay? I get that I'm the rookie here, but I'm guessing that we might want to conserve ammo rather than just fire like crazies."

She snorts. "Crazies. You've got no idea what crazies are like."

"Shambling hordes of undead created by mad scientists accompanied by monsters out of a deck of tarot cards? Think I've got the idea."

She pulls back the feed. "You've got no idea."

"Maybe. But I'm the one who's not losing their focus."

Damn it, she has to give that to him. Not that she's going to.

" But lead on, by all means."

Frowning, she does so, side stepping the piles of bodies. Especially the ones that have blood pouring from their wounds, indicating that these are newly created undead.

Blood that is still scarlet.

December 7, 2006

The sun is rising, casting a shade of scarlet over the fields of Scotland.

It's been a long night, but they're still alive. That's more than she can say for a lot of people right now. Her dress is torn in a dozen places. Dark circles are under her eyes. Every bone in her body is aching. Like the colour of the sun, blood trickles down onto the ground from a handful of wounds. Nothing to put her in the ground, but enough to make her want to sleep for a week.

In other words, just like Venice. And just like Venice, sleep's going to be something that's very difficult.

She and Ryan sit there in silence. Lockwood's gone. Dead. He was ranting like a madman (and she's known madmen), but he's a dead madman, and that means the world is slightly better off today than it was the day before…maybe. Course, a lot more people were alive yesterday than today (least in this particular part of the world), but…

"Kate?"

She sighs, lying down on the ground. She has to take what victories she can get. James told her not to lose hope. Most of the time, that's a request that becomes increasingly hard to fulfil.

"You okay?"

She laughs. Is she okay? God's sake, how can anyone be okay after this?

"I'll take that as a yes."

She laughs even harder. God, she could get used to this. Seriously. Like…like…

She sits up straight. "Is that a helicopter?"

Both agents shield their eyes from the sun's glare. Sure enough, a helicopter is approaching, bearing the letters AMS on the side. That's neat. The idea that she's important enough that she gets a helicopter sent out after her. Well, her, and-

"Ryan."

He looks at her. He looks as tired and as beaten as she does. Maybe worse.

"Yeah?"

"Just, um…good job."

"Good job?"

"Good job," she says. "I mean, for a rookie."

"Oh, right. Qualifiers." He looks away from her. She can't tell if he's really offended or not, but-

"I mean it," she says, putting a hand on his shoulder. "Wouldn't be here if not for you."

He shrugs. "Guess I could say the same. But hey, thanks."

She nods, and waits for the helicopter to arrive. Content in the knowledge that it's over.

She might be able to sleep properly now.

June 8, 2007

Watching the TV, Kate knows that she'll never be able to sleep again.

The world is burning. Every city, every country, every continent. Pandora's Box has opened. Death and disease ravage the world, striking down the living, and adding them to the ranks of the dead. If hope was in that box, she can't see it.

What she can see is scarlet.

Scarlett, as fires are left to burn, as the works of Man come crumbling down.

Scarlett, as blood flows through the streets, drowning both the guilty and innocent alike.

Scarlett, on the bodies of those who have so far survived the flood. Fleeing to whatever refuge they can find.

Scarlett, on the hands and teeth of the dead as they march ever onward.

There's not a single country in the world that's been able to stem the tide. Some countries have gone completely dark. In the United States, they've completely abandoned the east coast. Safe zones are being set up, which turn out to not be that safe. Fighting the undead isn't that easy, as it turns out. Like the 1% that attended that party, AMS might as well be the 1% of the world's militaries, because so far, they're not doing a good job of keeping the living…well, living.

She's wearing more practical clothing now. Fatigues. Body armour. She's in an AMS safehouse in Miami. Normally, she'd be catching sun at this time of year. Course right now, the beaches are awash with blood, and the docks have turned into something out of Noah's Ark as the living flee into the ocean. In theory, she and her AMS team are safe up here, at the top of this office block, as they document the spread of the creatures through the city. She isn't even sure why that's necessary, because the numbers and facts will be the same. Numbers? A lot. Status? FUBAR. Hope? What hope?

Part of her wishes James were here. The other part is glad that he isn't. He died in the belief that he'd saved the world, not knowing that he'd just given it a few more years. He-

She hears gunfire. Shouts. Screams.

Shit.

She picks up a rifle in one hand and a rucksack in the other and walks out of the cubicle that's served as her 'office' for the past few days. It doesn't take her long to see the source of the screams – the dead attacking the living. The living falling to the dead.

Shit!

She gives a few bursts. A few zombies fall. She keeps backing up, firing short, controlled bursts. It briefly occurs to her that she's now the only living person in this building. She might be the only living person in this city. Heck, for all she knows, the entire world just went to Hell and she's the last one waiting to be raptured or something.

They keep coming. The passageways between cubicles help her in that the creatures have to come at her in single file. However, it doesn't give her much room to manoeuvre.

She runs out of ammo. She goes for another magazine.

She trips. The creatures come at her.

She holds the rifle up in defence. One of them lunges at her. Tries to bite her. Its teeth a dark red, stained with the blood of its victims.

Then it falls. They all do. The sound of gunfire fills the office space, and Kate closes her eyes. In a few seconds, she'll know whether she's alive or dead. Part of her even hopes for the latter.

"Clear!"

She's alive then. Guess that counts for something. She slowly gets to her feet, and-

"Kate?"

"Ryan?"

Ryan Taylor. Still alive. Wearing similar gear to what she is, accompanied by a mish-mash of Army and National Guard troopers, none of whom look particularly happy. She supposes living in the end times has that effect on people.

"You okay?" he asks.

She nods. "Are you?"

"Why wouldn't I be?"

Plenty of reasons. She looks at one of the guardsman, who looks even younger than Ryan. Absolutely plenty.

Ryan begins speaking, but it washes over her. City's being abandoned. Something about bombers and napalm. Something about contingency plans. He doesn't realize that it doesn't matter anymore. The world's ending. They can either fight the tide, or find higher ground. If that makes her a coward, so be it. She was fighting the undead before it was trendy. So was he, to his credit.

"Good to go?" he asks.

She nods. Helicopter, roof, evacuation. Simple. She picks up her rucksack, but as she picks it up, a book falls out.

Shit.

Ryan leans down and picks it up.

Shit!

"The Miller's Daughter," he says, looking at the cover. "Barnes and Noble."

"Give me that," Kate grunts, snatching the book and stuffing it into the rucksack.

"Packing for the end times I see?"

She doesn't answer. She doesn't owe him anything.

November 2, 2008

The sun is setting, casting a scarlet glow over the sands of Arizona. And Kate feels like the walking dead.

It took months for the world to end. After everything she'd seen, after everything she'd seen and heard, she figured it would take longer. Indeed, here at least there's some semblance of civilization. The world quickly figured that cities were death traps, but that out in the open, the undead were much easier to deal with. Problem is, that was a revelation that came a bit late, so now the dead outnumber the living on the scale of around 1,000,000:1. She's faced long odds before, but she doesn't see how you can snag a victory out of that.

The compound doesn't have a name yet. It was set up in a hurry, and as she and Ryan circle it in the helicopter, she can see that it's hardly a fortress. A chain-link fence surrounds it. She'd much rather have a wall. Below her, she can see a mix of military and civilians doing what people do at the world's end. Try and make it all seem normal.

"There's houses," Ryan says.

She follows his finger. Well, that's one word for them. More like dormitories. No telling how many people to them. There's dozens of similar compounds out here, in states like Arizona, Texas, and California, and from what she's heard, the experiment's been repeated in what countries have the might and landscape to allow for it. Canada. Australia. China. A handful of countries in Africa. Europe, Japan, Singapore? Long gone. Those that lived close together died the fastest.

She's still alive though. That's a little nugget of information that actually finally dawns on her. She's in a helicopter, filled with survivors of the apocalypse. Somehow, she survived it all.

She feels dirty.

The helicopter touches down and she, and everyone else on it, shamble out like a pack of zombies. Hungry for nothing but a bed and maybe something to eat – something already dead, thank you very much. She looks at Ryan, and he looks at her. They understand, even if no-one else does. It isn't going to get better from here.

"Kate! Ryan!"

But it can get slightly better. Seeing the man waving, she rushes over, with Ryan close behind. She reaches him, and hugs him like there's no tomorrow.

"Rogan!"

There might not be.

They break free of the embrace. Ryan and Rogan simply shake hands, but she can tell that there's a lot behind it. Relief, first and foremost.

"Is it just you?" Kate asks.

He shakes his head. "Chloe's here. And G."

"And anyone else?" Ryan asks. "Gary? Amy? Harry?"

Rogan doesn't say anything. Maybe he knows and he isn't telling them. Maybe he doesn't know, but can't bring himself to admit it. Kate can understand. AMS is…was, a tight knit group. Knowing that she might be among the four AMS agents left on planet Earth, well, that's a sobering thought.

She smiles when she sees Chloe come over. Smiles when she sees her kiss her husband on the cheek. This might be the end of the world, but some things never change. She figures that nearly dying in a house of the dead can be a bonding experience. So bonding, in fact, that-

Oh.

She sees the tiny girl (about eight years old by her guess) hiding behind her mother's leg. She sees Rogan take her by the hand and lead her out.

"Kate, Ryan, I'd like you to meet Lisa, my daughter."

Ryan kneels down to meet Lisa. Lisa lets out a sniff and hides behind her father's leg. Kate just stands there, in shock.

Rogan has a daughter. He has a daughter that's going to grow up in a world very different from the one her father lived in. She's going to grow up in a world where she'll have to hide from things far worse than strangers. She's growing to grow up in a world where, one day, she might find that she no longer has a father or mother. She's going to grow up in a world where hope is in short supply. Where monsters and madmen destroyed it before she could understand what the world actually was.

So when Kate kneels down as well to shake Lisa's quivering hand, she whispers "I'm sorry."

Lisa doesn't understand.

But one day she will.

November 2, 2008

"So this is it."

Kate remains silent. This is it. A tiny room of a tiny dorm. There's a bed, a door, four walls, a small window that looks out into the desert, and a single light bulb.

"Could be worse."

She looks at Ryan. "Could it?"

"Think you know the answer."

She groans and sits down on the bed, dumping her rucksack on the floor. It's so hard and lumpy, the idea of sleep is starting to seem less appealing. Nonetheless, she closes her eyes. She-

"Lord of the Rings?"

She opens them.

"Brave New World?"

She sees Ryan standing above her, holding a trio of books.

"War and Peace?"

"Give me those," she snaps. She reaches out for them, but he steps back, revealing an open rucksack.

"Ryan? I said give them to me."

"Didn't think you were into this stuff."

"What? Because I like romance I can't also like actual literature?"

He shrugs. Which is fine. It gives him the chance to snatch the books out of his hand.

"World's ended," she said. "If this is the end of civilization, I want some elements of civilization that are actually worth saving."

"That, and, er, other things," Ryan says. He picks out The Miller's Daughter. Kate groans.

"And what have we here?"

Oh Jesus don't!

He pulls it out. A scarlet dress. Tattered and torn, located at the bottom of the rucksack.

"Kate?" he asks, holding it up in in the dying light. "Is this…"

"Yes," she sighs. "It's the same dress I wore at the manor."

"You…you've been carrying this with you for months? Why?"

"Because…" She sighs. She wishes she has the energy to lie, but she doesn't, and besides, she can't do much to solve this embarrassment anyway. "Because I want to imagine that there's going to be a world someday where I could wear something like that again." She looks up at him. "Crazy, right?"

He hands it over to her. "I don't think so."

She stares at him.

"Crazy stuff's out there. In here…I can deal with different crazy."

She smiles, raising a hand in mock toast. "Here's to crazy then."

He returns the gesture. "Here's to crazy."

November 2, 2013

It's a red wine. Scarlet.

They've been here for five years and are still alive. Some of the living have departed them. Some of the living have joined them. The dead are everywhere, but so far they've been kept to one side of the fence. They've got a greenhouse garden. A few pigs. One day a week, they've got running water. Tonight, they're having a celebration. They're alive. Goldman, Curien…they didn't win.

Not that mankind has "won" technically either, but screw it, they're alive. That's a victory of its own in this world.

She and Ryan are seated beside each other. They laugh as they hear G tell one of his stories. They laugh as they see Rogan and Sophie try to get Lisa to like wine (and fail). They fall silent when the base commander asks for a minute's silence, to remember all those no longer with them. They clap when they hear that contact's been made with Japan – like Europe, like Singapore, like a hundred hotspots across the world, the living are still living.

They know there's a price for that. Every day, they're reminded of it. One week of every month, they go on patrol into the badlands, to get the lie of the land. Surveying zombies is like surveying animals – population density and all that crap. Heck, there's even a small mini-cinema for salvaged DVDs. David Attenborough is as popular as ever – people like to remember when the world was green. Sometimes she and Ryan are paired together. Sometimes not. In recent times, it's more often than not.

It gets late, and they get drunk. Or at least Kate thinks she's drunk – is it possible to get so drunk that you don't know you're drunk, she wonders? Doesn't know. But when she spills some wine on Ryan's shirt, as she giggles, as he makes some joke about zombies, and blood, and wine, and other red stuff, it doesn't really matter that much…

Wine tastes good though.

November 3, 2013

She's not sure when or how it happens, and right now, she's only vaguely aware as to why.

She doesn't know whether it's her guiding him to her room, or him guiding her. She doesn't know how she's able to get the door open. As they stagger around the room, she doesn't know whether she kisses him, or he kisses for. But the questions of "when" become academic. The questions of "why" are thrown aside along with their clothing. The question of "who" becomes answered with the question of "one." As one, they embrace, lips and skin meeting. As one, their minds become clear, as they both forget that beyond this room, beyond this place, is a world where such actions could never occur. Always, in the back of her mind, there's the question of "why." But it only lasts as long as she lets it. It only lasts up to the point when they both end up on her bed. It lasts right up to the point when her bra is unfastened, and two pairs of pants join the floor. And when flesh becomes one, as the feeling is consummated, the question of why is left with only the truth.

It feels good.

How long it lasts, she cannot say. Her mind is blank as she grips the sheets. She gasps and groans as pleasure runs through her. She lets out a cry in the heat of the moment.

"James!"

And then it stops. Her mind becomes clear. Through the gloom, she sees Ryan's eyes. Sees the shock. Sees the hurt.

"Ryan."

It ends. All of it. He gets off and begins to dress – neither of them are drunk now. One word has cleansed their bodies and their minds.

"Ryan!"

The door is opened. The door is closed. And Kate is left alone. In sweat. In shame.

She lies down on the bed, hand over her eyes. Wondering what the hell she's done.

December 11, 2013

She's here again in the toilet block. Head over an open toilet, vomiting.

Bad enough that she has to be in here. The compound has a single toilet and shower block. You get a shower once a week if you're lucky. The toilets don't actually flush, they just open up to a pit in the ground. The entire place stinks to high heaven. Not that Kate is inclined to believe in Heaven much nowadays. There's only Hell, and its true name is Earth.

Last month has been its own kind of hell. Ryan won't talk to her anymore, no matter what she tries. Make matters worse, the undead are starting to close in. She doubts there's anything at play here, but still, they're here, they're hungry, and the compound only has so many bullets to go round. Patrols are becoming more dangerous. Fuel is becoming more scarce. And in the midst of all this, she's coming here each morning, puking her guts out.

She sits on the dunny, face in her hands. Not for the last time, she wonders what the hell she's doing. Like, what's the point of this? Where's the hope that James promised? Where's the hope amidst all this death and destruction? Why, god damn it, did she scream out his name in that moment of…interaction? She gets to her feet and walks over to the block's mirror. As if she needed any confirmation, she looks like shit. No surprise, considering that she feels like shit. Her hair is greasy and lank. Dark circles are under her eyes. Her teeth are starting to go yellow. She-

Oh hell.

She retches again, a pile of puke forming on the ground below her. Panting, she manages to get back to her feet, making a mental note to come back ASAP and clean it up. Food's in short supply. If she's puking it up, then that isn't going to make anyone happy. And while she could go to the doctor, she can't help but feel guilty about that. She's feeling a bit under the weather. So what? She-

Oh.

The morning sickness. The fatigue. The swelling of her breasts. The lack of anything scarlet between her legs for well over a month.

Oh fuck.

It can't be. And yet, it is. It can very well be.

Shit!

She begins to pace around, running her head through her hands. She…she has to think this through. Or, rather not think at all, Or, deal with this quickly, or not deal with it, or do any number of things that a woman does in a post-apocalyptic world and-

Oh God.

First order of business is to start puking again.

December 12, 2013

It takes her a day to decide what to do.

That this is the day one of the patrols heads out makes it easy. She knows when and where Ryan will be – out on one of Rogan's little jaunts into the outside world. He's got his own commando unit now – he's been pushing the theory that someone, or something, is directing the undead. That the legacy of the DBR Corporation remains. Curien, Goldman, Thornheart, someone else…something is happening. And if they don't do something, what's left of humanity will end.

Which would be terrible of course. But right now, Kate Green has other things on her mind. Like finding Ryan.

There you are.

He's easy to find, because he's in the midst of loading an automatic shotgun into the boot of one of the jeeps. By chance, he glances in her direction. Seeing her approaching him, he looks away.

"Ryan," she says.

He doesn't look at her. He keeps packing guns and ammo.

"Ryan."

He still doesn't look at her.

"Hey." She grabs his arm. And the way he looks at her…it hurts. More than a month of silence, that look in his eyes hurts her, because more than anything, she can see how hurt he is.

"What?" he grunts.

"Can we…" She glances around the convoy. "Can we talk?"

"Talking now aren't we?"

"I meant…" She rubs one leg against the other awkwardly. "I meant alone."

"Last time we were alone, I think you said your piece."

"That was…" She bites her lip. "That wasn't…"

"Wasn't what, Kate? You think I don't know you'd rather be fucking my brother?" He turns back to the boot.

"That's not fair," she says.

"Life isn't fair. And whatever we had? That wasn't fair."

"No. It wasn't. But we still need to talk."

"No Kate, we really don't. And since you're not assigned for this run, you've got no reason to-"

"I'm pregnant, Ryan."

He stops. One hand is on the boot. The other is on a handgun. The way the colour drains from his face, it looks like he's considering using it on himself.

"Ryan?" Kate asks.

He slowly looks at her. Slowly puts the gun back in the boot. He glances around at everyone else. So does Kate – no-one's watching.

"You sure?" he asks.

She nods.

"And?" he asks. "How's this my problem?"

"Because…" She takes a moment to compose herself, unable to believe what she's hearing. "Because you're the father."

"How do I know that?" he asks. "How do I know you haven't-"

She slaps him, which is something that does get people to look at them. Right now, she doesn't care. Slowly, Ryan turns to look at her.

"Ouch," he says.

"I can do worse," she murmurs.

"Don't doubt that."

"Good. So maybe we can talk about-"

"No," he says. "I…just need time, okay?" He closes the boot and starts walking. "I'll be back in a week. We'll talk then."

"Ryan-"

"I said we'll talk then!"

December 20, 2013

It actually takes them eight days to return.

Kate and a whole lot of other people are waiting for them when the jeeps return. All of them have blood stains. All of them have gone through hell. And when they pull up, when the commandos start getting out, it becomes clear that they've gone through hell as well.

Some are wounded. Some are healthy. Some, as Kate can tell, aren't coming back. It isn't so much what Thomas Rogan says, it's what he doesn't. That's when the crying starts. The wails. Sounds that Kate has heard on a semi-regular basis over the last six years.

"Ryan?"

He's here though. He's missing some of his body armour. His fatigues are drenched in scarlet. His left arm hangs limply, his right is holding a handgun close to his waist. He begins to walk.

"Ryan!"

He walks straight past her. Headed for the dorms.

"Ryan, wait!"

She follows him. He's moving with a purpose. Kate has purpose as well, but one month pregnant, she's already not as fast as she might otherwise be. So by the time he gets to his room, he's already there. Sitting on the bed. Pulling his handgun's magazine out and in, over and over.

"Ryan?" she asks.

He says nothing. He just sits there. Looking around the room, Kate notices that it's bereft of almost any personal effects. There's a single picture of a man, a woman, and two boys, one older than the other. It doesn't take her long to guess who they are.

"Ryan?" she asks. She kneels down, taking his hand. "Talk to me."

He says nothing.

"Talk to me," she whispers. "It…it doesn't have to be about the baby, okay? Just…anything."

"Six," he grunts.

She blinks. "Excuse me?"

"Six," he whispers. He meets her eyes. "Had ten. Came back with six."

"That…isn't too bad."

"By our standards, it's a disaster."

"Maybe," she says, squeezing his hand. "But we've both lived through disasters before. Including…" She feels her stomach. So far it hasn't gotten any bigger, but she knows what's growing inside of her.

"Is that what you're calling this? A disaster."

"I want to know what you're calling it."

He sighs. To her relief, he at least puts the gun aside. "I still have to take your word for it that it's mine."

"You think I'd lie to you?"

"I dunno. You called out my brother's name."

"That…" She bites her lip. "That was-"

"What, Kate, what? If you're being honest, you'll say what it was about."

"I-"

"Did you love my brother Kate?"

She doesn't say anything.

"Did you love James?"

"No," she whispers.

"No?" Ryan has a look in his eyes that she can't quite place. "Then why did you-"

"Because…because I think about him a lot," she says. "What he said. About hope. I keep thinking back to it, thinking that maybe he'll be right in the end, but he's not, and the world's fucked up, and I've fucked up, and I'm bringing a child into the world that…that…" She stifles a sob.

She hates herself. Hates herself for what she did to Ryan. Hates herself for being so naive. Hates herself for not planning this, or giving any thought to the future.

"Rogan's got a kid," Ryan says. "Quite a few people have kids. They're managing okay."

"You seen the graveyard?" Kate asks. "You ever noticed how it grows every year? That is not okay."

"Yeah, well, you're alive, and I'm alive, and I'm figuring your baby's alive, so, hey, that's something."

"Is it?" She goes to wipe away a tear. She doesn't though. Ryan takes her hand, then does it for her.

"It is," he says. "Or, I guess…I'm okay."

Then he kisses her. Like that night a month ago, it feels good.

No, not good, she reflects, as she begins to kiss him back.

It feels better.

July 2, 2014

It's nine months on since that night, and she feels like a whale.

Are there still whales left in the world? Probably. The undead dominate the land, they don't dominate the seas. Still, they're on the land, and the undead are still pressing them, which means that Rogan and his commandos are going out on recon. Nine months of plotting and planning, and he believes he's spotted a pattern. Some kind of point of origin for the undead. It's a longshot, and it'll probably take years to pin down, but he's insisting on it. And so far, people are willing to go along with it.

So far.

She walks out over to the convoy. Someone's painted a scarlet skull on one of their sides, as if that makes a difference. Still, it's the end of the world. Little bit of art can't help.

"Hey."

She looks at Ryan. He looks at her. He smiles. She kisses him.

"Come back safe, okay?"

"Don't I always?"

"Not the point." She gives him a punch. "Just…well, you know what I mean."

"I do." He takes her by the waist and kisses her again. "Have a nice time."

Nice time. Yeah, she's hoping for that. The unsaid statement is that tomorrow, they're having a baby shower. Little celebration before her baby comes out, which is meant to be any day now. There's a risk that his or her father won't be there for the moment. But then, someone has to cover her shifts. She isn't the first woman to get pregnant within the compound. Chances are she won't be the last. But everyone still needs to pull her weight. And as a former AMS agent, she's got quite a bit of weight to make up for. Once her baby pops out, she's certainly not going to be entitled to any maternity leave.

But that's then. This is now. She and everyone else wave as the convoy sets out.

As they always do.

July 3, 2014

Baby showers used to have gifts.

That was in a world where people were able to just go out and buy something. Something that said "hey, you're pregnant, so here's something to make it seem like I care." Still, with that no longer an option, that means all the girls in the compound have to come up with something.

It isn't too bad, she reflects, as Lisa presents her with a giant piece of cardboard with a bunch of signatures and congratulations, all written in scarlet ink. She hugs Lisa, who smiles. At the age of fifteen, it's clear that while she takes after her mother in appearance, she's got her father's drive. Not that Sophie (who's here as well) is a wet blanket, but Kate can see it. She'd getting old. They all are. There's not a single person in the mess hall who hasn't lost someone. If you take the question of loss and apply it only after the apocalypse, she figures about 40% of them have lost someone.

Not too high. But not low enough for her liking.

They talk, they laugh, they joke. There's a second piece of cardboard where people have taken bets as to the baby's gender. The compound isn't without some medical equipment, but ultrasound isn't among them. Besides, Kate doesn't want to know. She's old fashioned that way. Sophie is telling them about how Rogan wanted a boy, and Lisa is faking incredulity (she knows this story), and how he warmed up to her within weeks, and that's when Rogan himself walks in.

"Rogan?"

That turns some heads. A lot of them. He and his team aren't due back for a few days. They've started taking shorter runs. Started being much more sparing with their range. Every life lost is one they can't afford to lose, and…he's walking over to them. Not so much Sophie, but her. Kate Green.

"Kate…I'm so sorry."

"Rogan?" she asks again. "Where's Ryan?"

He says nothing. He looks away. Takes his wife's hand. Puts an arm round his daughter.

"No," Kate whispers.

"Kate, they came out of nowhere and-"

"No." She gets to her feet – her stomach feels heavy. "No. He's not. You can't do this to me."

"Kate, there was nothing we could-"

"No!" She takes a step but stumbles. Lisa and one of the girls try to help her to her feet, but she can't manage it. She just sits there on her knees. Sobbing. Wailing. Vainly beating Rogan's chest, as if that's meant to bring Ryan back.

"Kate…"

Ten years ago, she lost James.

Now, she's lost his brother as well.

And most importantly of all, her child will never know his father.

July 5, 2014

She goes into labour two days later.

They keep telling her it'll be fine. People have been giving birth for thousands of years without the aid of 20th century technology. They've had practice with childbirth before. Course, Billie died two years ago from complications, but 1/9 isn't too bad, right?

She's barely listening. She lets them escort her from her dorm. She lets them put her on the bed. She gives the bare minimum of responses when they ask how she's doing. When they ask her to push, she does so. It hurts, but the pain in her birth canal is nothing compared to the pain in her heart.

You were meant to be here.

She pushes.

Why aren't you here?

She pushes.

Did you want out?

She pushes.

Damn it Ryan, why did you have to die?

She pushes. She's sweating just like she did on the night this all began. She hears something about bleeding. She lies down and closes her eyes, willing to just let it all end. If she died today, who would miss her? Who would care?

"Alright Kate, I just need one more push."

She wouldn't care.

"Kate?"

She could just…let it go.

"Kate, I need you to push."

Push, pull, push, pull, what's the difference?

"Kate!"

She obliges the doctors that. She pushes. She screams. She closes her eyes, which are the colour of scarlet. Even now, she still has tears to shed. She lets the darkness take her, and embraces it with open heart and open breast. She's ready to let it all end.

"Kate?"

No matter what the doctors say.

"Kate, are you with me?"

Someone's putting a flannel to her forehead. She opens an eye, and see the doctor's gloves are stained with blood. She figures she's lost a lot of it. Not that she cares…right up to the moment when she hears the words.

"Kate, it's a boy."

And more importantly, the cry.

Quite a lot of cries actually. Enough to get her to open both her eyes and keep them open this time. To see the doctor bring over a babe in a towel. To put him in her arms. Arms that keep squirming, as her son keeps crying.

"Shh, shh," she whispers. "I'm here." She kisses her son on the forehead. "Don't cry, little one. I'm here."

Her son falls silent. The tears keep coming. Tears, for the man who will never know his son. Tears, for the son that will never know her father. Tears for herself – the shame of even entertaining the thought of just letting go.

"We'll keep you here overnight," one of the doctors says. "And we'll need a name."

"Still keeping the bureaucracy eh?" Kate asks.

"Orders are orders. Course, we get it if you don't have one yet."

Kate smiles as she lies back in the bed, keeping her son close. "He has a name," she whispers, before looking up at them. "It's James."

"James," the doctor says.

"James," she says. "James Ryan Green."

If it were a girl, she reflects, she'd have named her Hope. But it doesn't matter.

The name of her son, the existence of her son…that's all the hope she needs.

July6, 2014

Somehow, she's found room for James in her dorm.

She still has the bed, besides which is a picture of her son's father, uncle, and grandparents. Her books are gone, long since donated to the compound's library. As is the duffel bag, which is stored in the base's armoury. But she does have something from it. A tattered, scarlet dress, with more holes in it than a zombie. It's a dress that she'll never wear again – the world won't go back to normal. Not in her lifetime. Not even in Lisa's, not even her son's. But as she finds him a corner in the room, as she lays him down on a mattress, as she sees his little eyes close, she lays it over him. It's winter. She needs to keep him warm.

"You don't know what this is," she says. "This silly scarlet thing."

James says nothing. He's dead to the world, and the horrors within it. For now, he has the luxury of dreams.

"I wore it the first time I worked with your father," she continues. "He said I looked nice in it you know." She bends down and picks him up, keeping the scarlet cloth around him. He stirs, but doesn't wake.

"In a way, I loved your uncle. In another way, I loved your father." She kisses her son on the forehead. "I love you too, James. And whatever happens to me, I just want you to know that."

He can't hear her. Even if he could, he wouldn't understand. In time, if she's still alive, he may. How long she'll be alive, she can't say. But for now, on this night, she's here for him. Here for him as she climbs into bed, keeping her son in her arms. Listening to the wind outside, and imagining the snow falling around her.

When she finally falls asleep, for the first time in forever, she has no nightmares.

Only dreams and memories.

A/N

While this isn't a shield from criticism, I should specify that I haven't watched a full playthrough of Scarlet Dawn, so if either Kate or Ryan are OOC, that's the reason why.

I should also specify as to whether I see KatexJames or KatexRyan as a thing, the answer is..."meh." Honestly it could go either way. That's technically part of why this is a oneshot rather than a multichapter, as if I feel the pairing doesn't fit, I don't need to take account of it in multi-chaptered stuff.

Oh, and of what I've seen of Scarlet Dawn, I see that the voice acting of House of the Dead remains as 'stellar' as ever. 0_0