The south lawn of the White House was littered with dilapidated tents, abandoned rescue and army vehicles and hundreds of bodies. The corpses that crowded the green grass had stained it with blood, the grim evidence of the battle that had been waged there recently. The United States had fallen victim to a plague; a disease so frighteningly potent it changed the very being of those who had been infected. Those people became irritable, rash and lost all traces of their humanity. Left in the putrid shell of the infected were monsters, monsters that wanted nothing more than to destroy everything in front of them. These people who had been infected were the lucky ones, as the disease had caused striking mutations in other, less fortunate people. Some people became heavily muscular and could hardly walk under their own weight. Others had their tongues grow so long they could stretch for over fifty feet, making it difficult for them to breathe and move. For some people, their stomach bloated, causing them to waddle and suffer a violently grim death if their frail skin was pierced. Corpses of these people were also lying on the south lawn of the White House.

Inside the situation was not much better. Weapons and ammunition were placed at strategic locations throughout the building, with the people who attempted to defend them lying dead nearby. Furniture had been rearranged to form barricades, most of which had been broken through. Windows were smashed and all throughout all of the corridors and rooms, bodies carpeted them and silence decorated them.

This silence was interrupted by a bang and a loud groan. Down various stairwells and passageways a single infected, very muscular, was banging relentlessly on a large metallic door. Through the thick steel was a small room, occupied by several people cowering around in fear. The staff of the White House had managed to escape here, only to be trapped by the Tank that was outside, desperate to break in. The room was quite modern, with computer terminals and television screens placed around the walls, none of them working. Sprinkler systems were in place on the ceiling that had dim halogen lights. The rear wall was decorated with the American flag. With a particularly forceful bash, the top right corner of the door bent inward. Several people flinched as they saw it happen. Some people began to cry, others started to get angry. One woman did neither, however. She was stood watching the door, a handgun in her hand ready to fight what was trying to get in. Her hair was neat and a light brown with a faint wisp of grey. Her suit was slightly tattered, but it was clear that it was sleek and elegant.

Norah Hanham was stood with her back to the rear wall and a small desk separating her from the increasingly damaged door. She watched as it slowly became clear that there was no way out of this situation and that the Tank was not going to stop it's assault. A man came up to her, distraught.

'For Christ sakes, Norah!' he cried. 'That thing is going to get in here any second!'

'I know,' Norah said, not taking her eyes off the door. She pulled the slide back of her gun and let it snap back. 'We're going to fight it.'

'You're insane!' the man protested. 'You've got the only gun. You can't defeat one of those things with a handgun!'

'Well I'm going to try,' she said firmly, looking away from the door and into his eyes. 'No one else is going to try so that responsibility falls on my shoulders.'

'No one else wants to get torn apart by those things! We want to die on our own terms, as painlessly as possible.'

'Sorry,' Norah spoke defiantly. 'No mercy killings on my watch.'

'I can't believe this,' he walked away, upset. Suddenly, he turned and pointed at her. 'Who are you to make these decisions for us?'

'As the President and most of the Cabinet have managed to leave the country safely, I am the highest ranking official left in this room and left in the United States, period,' she spoke with passion and intolerance of those who wanted to just give up. 'I have spent my whole life serving my country, as you all have. I am not going to throw in the towel now just because things seem bleak.'

'Things are bleak, Norah!' the man insisted.

'That's Madam Secretary, thank you!' she retorted snidely. 'Today, America has fallen. We have failed at our jobs of protecting this great nation from danger and we only have ourselves to blame.' There was a silence in the room, the Tank outside had even paused in its assault. 'We will not disservice our country any longer. We will fight to the end as the shame of just giving up is far worse than death.'

The crashing outside suddenly continued, this time with more determination. As the Tank tried to get in, an unusual sound could be heard from the door. It was a sizzling sound, the sizzling heard if cold water fell onto a hot surface. Along the outer edges of the door, a green substance was eroding the metal, burning it away. The Tank's assault was becoming more vigorous and the door began to fall apart.

'My God...' someone muttered. 'They're working together!' The door burst open and fell to the ground, revealing a large infected, the Tank. Norah lifted her handgun in the direction of her target and pulled the trigger. It was the first and only time she fired a gun.

Two Weeks Earlier

The south lawn of the White House was clear. Washington D.C. was clear of any destruction or signs of infection, for now. Norah Hanham was walking through an elaborate hall with a luxurious red carpet under her feet, delicate chandeliers hanging gracefully from the ceilings and tasteful, nostalgic portraits standing proud on the walls. As she turned a corner, Norah was met by a tall man with short blonde hair.

'Hello, Ed,' she greeted. Edward Deacon smiled at her and handed her a set of documents, matching her walking pace. 'What goodies are these?' She looked up at a set of double doors ahead of them.

'The President is on Air Force One,' Edward reported.

'Heading for the climate change conference?' Norah asked.

'Yeah, in a massive polluting jet... There's been concern about the outbreak in New Orleans. You've been put in charge of fixing it.'

'Goody,' Norah joked, stopping in front of the doors and turning to Edward. 'What's the fatality count?'

'So far, no fatalities,' Edward said cautiously. 'However there are so far over one thousand infected.'

'And no fatalities?' Norah asked, opening the door. 'What's deadly about it then?' She and Edward entered the conference room. Inside was a group of people sat around a large desk. A flat screen television was on the rear wall and two empty chairs were at the front waiting for them. Edward waited for Norah to sit down before taking a seat himself. Norah cleared her throat and put the documents Edward gave her on the table.

'Alright, I'll keep this brief,' she said. 'Roughly six hours ago we were given reports of a viral infection in New Orleans that has never been seen before. Symptoms are similar to rabies and as of yet, no method of treatment has been devised. Current estimates put the infection number at over one thousand.' A few people in the room began whispering to each other, worriedly. 'Now,' Norah spoke over the whispers, 'the President has handed over the treatment of this matter to me. I give the orders; everything goes through me however we all need to work together to make sure this thing does not spread. I'm ordering New Orleans to be quarantined immediately.'

'Pardon me,' a man with a thick British accent spoke suddenly. He was directly on the opposite end of the table to Norah. He stood up. 'Avery Ingram,' he introduced himself. 'Director of the Civil Emergency and Defence Agency.'

'Yes, Director,' Norah nodded, trying to hurry up his speech. 'We've met before.'

'Have we?' the Director's eyebrows arched in slight surprise. 'Well you'd think I'd remember... Anyway, I think quarantining New Orleans would be a bit of a drastic measure at this stage of the infection. I believe many would think it is... premature.'

'I beg your pardon?' Norah leant forward.

'Well as you've said, so far, one thousand have shown symptoms of this new disease but there have been no fatalities.'

'So far,' Norah interrupted him. 'I don't want to run the risk of this getting out of hand.'

'And what happens if you place New Orleans under martial law for something that turns out to be nothing more than a cold?'

'What happens if this is more serious than just a cold? What happens if it's more deadly than anything else we've seen so far? I'd rather not take risks, Director, especially with rabies-like symptoms.' She sighed and went to continue with the agenda but stopped when she saw the Director was still standing. 'I'm sorry, Director but my mind is made up.'

'If I may,' the Director tucked his chair under the table, 'in all of my experience I seriously doubt this infection is going to lead up to anything.' Norah narrowed her eyes at him. 'I mean what if it's just another swine flu scare? What happens then when you've quarantined a major city for no apparent reason? They'll think the people that run the government are recklessly irresponsible and that by suspending civil liberties for that reason is stepping over the line.'

'There's a fine line between being careful and stepping over the line,' Norah said. 'Just like there's a fine line between giving an opinion and stepping over the line. You've said your bit, Director, but I'm still closing off New Orleans.'

'As I understand it, this is a democracy,' he continued, addressing everyone else in the room. 'The Secretary of Homeland Security does not know as much about virus and infection as some of us do and I know she means well, but her actions will have consequences for all of us.' There was silence. 'Now, I think we should put New Orleans up to a vote.'

'You're out of line,' Edward protested.

'Not at all,' the Director shook his head, raising his hand. 'I'm merely... being careful.' He shot Norah an ambiguous look. 'I think everyone who believes quarantining New Orleans is a bad idea should raise their hand now, taking the wellbeing of the American people and your careers into account.'

Within seconds, the only two people in the room who had not raised their hands were Norah and Edward.

Norah ended the meeting shortly after and hastily left the meeting room. Edward followed her closely to try and keep her calm.

'Who the hell does he think he is?' Norah spat. 'Smug bastard. "Oh you'd think I'd remember meeting you"... Ass.' Before Edward could say anything, the Director called out from behind. The two stopped and he joined them.

'Mind if we have a moment of privacy please old chap?' he asked Edward, who looked to Norah. She nodded and he went on his way. Norah continued to walk down the corridor, walking brisker than usual to force the Director to try and keep up with her.

'I hope I didn't sound out of line back there,' he said.

'Well you did,' Norah snapped back. 'And you were!'

'I honestly have the best interests of the American people at heart,' he explained. 'Locking down an entire city... well, it'd cause panic.'

'And it'd prevent and outbreak,' Norah said, stopping. 'You hijacked my meeting, Director.'

'I was merely advising you-' he spoke but Norah interrupted him.

'People usually give their advice and that's it,' she spoke angrily. 'If their advice isn't taken onboard, they don't undermine the authority of their superiors and cast doubt upon them!' The Director and Norah stood silently together.

'Are you my superior?' the Director asked, smugly. Norah's eyes lit up with anger. She stepped closed to him and spoke in a hushed tone so no one would overhear.

'You're banned from all of my meetings,' she spat. 'You are to send a representative.' Norah turned to leave but the Director called out after her.

'Do you really think New Orleans requires quarantine?'

'I'll guess we'll have to wait and see,' was her response.

'I suppose so,' the Director nodded. 'Tell you what, if I'm wrong I'll buy you a drink.' With that, he walked off in the other direction, leaving Norah standing there alone in the corridor. Her hatred toward the Director was brewing intensely within her.

*

Earlier that day, the sun rose in Savannah, Georgia, to the strident sounds of tyres screeching and metal crashing. The dull cry of a car horn then filled the air, constant and unending. The head of the driver was slumped face first into the steering wheel. The windshield was shattered, the airbags were nowhere to be seen and blood was pooling on the floor. In the back seat of the vehicle, a man had his head rested against the cracked window. Their car, a decimated taxi, had crashed straight into the front of another vehicle. The airbags in the black car had deployed and the windows were still intact, however they were visibly damaged.

The driver's door of the black vehicle was kicked open, the window glass falling to the floor as the occupant staggered out. Feet crunching the shards on the ground, the middle aged man stepped away from his vehicle and toward the taxi. He wore a dark shirt with matching trousers and shoes. His hair was greying and receding. His eyes were brown and looked heavily focused. Disregarding the body in the front seat, the man opened the rear passenger door and let the man fall out and smack on the ground. Leaning into the taxi, he retrieved the passenger's metallic briefcase and then slammed the door shut. Happy with what he came for, the man began to make a hasty retreat.

Heading for an alley just by the road, the man's pace picked up to a brisk walk. He was about to enter the alleyway when he heard someone cry from behind.

'Hey!' he heard. The man turned to see the gentleman who had fallen from the taxi standing up with a pistol in his hand, aiming for him. The man turned and ran into the alley, ducking his head slightly. A gunshot signalled the start of the chase, as the taxi passenger began to chase after him. The pursuer ran a lot faster than the other man. He was younger, thinner and more muscular. He followed the thief into the alleyway and saw him up ahead. The man turned a corner, knowing that his pursuer would soon be on his tail. He saw a door that was open and ran for it, taking out his phone.

'Nick, I need some help!' he cried.

'Sure thing, Peter,' Nick said on the other line, hanging up his phone and starting to run to help. Nick had short dark hair with a white suit and a blue shirt. He turned the corner of the street and ran for the alleyway that was by the car wreck just ahead of him.

Peter ran into a restaurant kitchen. Pushing through confused staff, he left the kitchen as his pursuer entered and made his way up a small set of stairs to another floor. Following the hallway, Peter moved as fast as he could to the roof access that was just ahead. He opened the door just as his pursuer came up the stairs and made his way through as a bullet shot past his head and into the open door. After ascending more stairs, Peter found himself on the roof and went to jump between rooftops. However, he stopped when he saw Nick running through the alley that was between the sizeable space between buildings. Cursing, Peter turned and saw the man he was running from emerge from the stairs, his weapon ready to shoot. Holding his hands out to the sides, Peter surrendered as Nick looked up and ran into the building.

'Drop it,' Peter was instructed.

'Now,' Peter spoke carefully, 'just don't do anything crazy.' He stepped close to the edge of the rooftop. 'You wouldn't want to shoot me and let this fall off now would you?'

'Do you have any idea what's inside that, old man?' Nick emerged from the kitchen and ran up the stairs.

'Do you have any idea how old I am?' Peter asked, trying to buy more time. 'I'm definitely no old man!'

'You'll be a dead man if you don't hand that case over to me right this second!' Nick reached the top of the stairs and sprinted down the corridor, dreading the sound of a gunshot.

'What's inside that's so valuable?' Peter asked.

'You'd steal it without knowing what's in it?' the man asked, sounding genuinely surprised.

'I was only hired to grab it,' Peter said. 'If you make it worth my while, I'll just hand it over to you and we can pretend this never happened.' Nick ran past the bullet hole and jumped up the stairs to the roof.

'You have no idea what you've got in your hands right there,' the man said, a look of grave seriousness on his face. 'Hand it over before you do something stupid.' Nick appeared at the top of the stairs and slowly moved toward the man who had his back to him.

'Now,' Peter said slowly, 'don't you do anything stupid...' Quietly, Nick stepped close behind the gunman and then grabbed his arms in an attempt to get the weapon away from him. The man managed to retaliate by counterattacking Nick and flipping him onto his back. Peter moved in to help and swung the case at him. However, the man ducked and smacked him with his pistol and took the case from him. He held the pistol to Peter's head but Nick kicked the man in the back of the legs, causing him to stumble. Nick reached up for the weapon and managed to pull it away from him as the man broke away from the two and ran for the edge of the building. At the edge he jumped and soared far over the large gap and landed safely on the other side, rolling as his feet touched the roof.

'Damn it!' Peter spat as the man began to run away with the case. He shook and hung head in defeat, sighing as Nick stormed past him and jumped off the rooftop. Peter looked up, shocked, as Nick moved through the air over to the other side. However, he wasn't as fast as the other man and fell short of landing on the roof. Throwing the pistol, he grabbed the edge of the rooftop and dangled perilously over the substantial drop. The gun skidded along the rooftop and the man turned to see it and changed direction. He ran for his weapon.

'Get up, my boy!' Peter cried as Nick tried to pull himself up. 'Come on, Nicky!' The man got closer to his gun and Nick lifted his leg up onto the rooftop and pulled himself up, rolling along the round. He grabbed the weapon just as the man reached it and he lifted it to the air. Dropping the case, the attacker tried to reach the gun as it fired a shot into the air. The two wrestled on the rooftop as Peter watched anxiously. Nick elbowed the man in the face and pushed himself away from him and stood up, standing between him and the case. The defeated man also stood up, his back to the edge of the roof. His eyes looked at the case and then at the gun. He knew he had lost.

Giving Nick a dirty look, the man leant backward and fell off the rooftop headfirst. Peter looked over the edge and saw his grim death, wincing as his body thudded against the street. Nick, surprised at what had just happened, looked over at Peter. Peter looked up and smiled.

'You've done well, my son!' Nick forced a smile and nodded. He felt a bit sick after just watching someone die. 'If only your Mother could see you now...'

'I...' he spoke slowly, a lump in his throat. He had never been responsible for someone's death before. 'I think I'll walk down this one.' Taking the case, Nick headed for the roof access door of his own building while Peter stood up and took out his phone and made a call.

'We've got it, Director,' he said.

*

Elsewhere inside Liberty Mall, a small camera crew were setting up in front of a 1968 Dodge Charger. The driver, dressed in white and blue racing overall was leaning against it as pictures were being taken. Huge portrait banners of the driver were hanging down from the very tall ceiling, standing very proudly. The banners were signed "Jimmy Gibbs Jr.". The news crew was small, one lone cameraman and the reporter, a young woman with dark hair and skin. They were rehearsing the news piece. She could only get as far as saying her first name.

'This is Rochelle... damn it!' she shook herself.

'What's wrong now?' Dale, her cameraman, asked sounding mildly irritated. His hair was dyed a mixture of black, blue and green. Rochelle stood for a moment, tapping her foot on the ground while watching Jimmy Gibbs Jr. pose.

'I'm sorry we didn't leave Ohio for this!' She gestured toward Jimmy, who was now lying on the front of the car, his legs wide and hand on his groin. 'We were supposed to be looking into this strange flu pandemic...'

'Well, what can I say?' Dale shrugged. 'They changed their mind and orders are orders.' Rochelle stopped tapping her foot and shot him a glance.

'Let's ditch this place,' she said.

'Are you mad?' Dale protested. 'We could both loose our jobs!'

'At the rate everyone's been off sick?' Rochelle asked rhetorically. 'I don't think so. Come on, let's ditch this wind bag!'

'Ready for me then, darlin'?' Jimmy Gibbs Jr. asked, approaching the two and patting Rochelle on her rear. Rochelle forced a light-hearted chuckle as she pushed Jimmy's hand off her, as he decided to turn a pat into a lengthy grope and squeeze. Stepping away from him slightly and turning to face him, Rochelle spoke with a fake apologetic voice.

'I'm so sorry,' she said, ignoring the fact that Jimmy was staring at her breasts as she spoke, 'We've got an emergency back home and need to leave.'

'So soon?' Jimmy asked. 'Stay a while and I'll give you the grand tour...' He swayed his pelvis as he spoke, looking seductively at her, winking. He then looked at Dale. 'You too if you want.'

'Okay,' Dale said, lowering the camera, 'I think we should go now. We should set off now if we need to get back to Ohio.' He and Rochelle packed up and went to leave the mall. Jimmy called out after them.

'Come back any time, you hear?' he looked slightly disappointed but then saw some of his fans queuing up to get his autograph, smiled and walked over to them.

Rochelle and Dale walked out of the mall into the car park, laughing together.

'Jump on that train, Dale,' Rochelle laughed.

'People in this hick town are nuts,' Dale joked, shaking his head.

'They're not nuts,' Rochelle shook her head. 'Just unique.'

'You would say that,' Dale stopped by the van, loading the camera into it. 'You're a reporter. You have to be politically correct.'

'That guy just had his hand on my ass, squeezing it so hard it was like he wanted to pull it off. How's that for political correctness?' The two laughed some more before Rochelle stopped and looked out into the car park. The sun had only just risen and people were starting to show up, ready to shop and eager to see Jimmy Gibbs Jr. She sighed and Dale put his hand on her shoulder tenderly.

'What's wrong?' he asked.

'Nothing...' she bit her bottom lip gently. 'I dunno... my entire career it's just been "hi, I'm Rochelle. I produce a news show." I've never been in front of the camera or doing anything important like I've always wanted to. I've never been "hi, I'm Rochelle; I'm a respected journalist... until now. This is my big break and what do they put me on? Some crap bit about a lame race car driver.' Dale nodded in understanding. 'I just want my first story to be something special... I'm a good journalist, damn it.'

'A good journalist does what her boss asks her to do,' Dale pointed out. Rochelle sighed and rubbed her hand over her face.

'Let's get something to eat,' she suggested, getting inside the van. 'You can reprimand me later.' Dale chuckled, shaking his head and got into the van. The two drove off down the street. A police car and ambulance passed them, heading for the scene of a car crash down the street.

*

Back inside the mall, Jimmy Gibbs Jr. was signing autographs for his loyal fans. A slim young man with brown hair and blue eyes approached him, along with his friend who was tall, thin and almost as handsome as he was.

'Who should I make this out to?' Jimmy asked as he took a photograph, looking over at some attractive young women.

'Ellis, sir,' the young man said, taking off his blue baseball cap as he approached him.

'Well you're a fine young man, Ellis,' Jimmy said, throwing the autograph at him. 'Very handsome one, too.' Ellis stood with his friend, quiet. A few seconds passed.

'Thanks,' he said.

'Now do me a favour, Ellis,' Jimmy said, pointing to the young women he was looking at. 'Go talk to those young ladies over there and tell them they're welcome to my hotel room tonight. You two can come too, if you want.'

'Okay,' Ellis nodded. He spoke with a strong southern accent. He headed toward the young ladies but his friend stopped him.

'Ellis, you crazy?' he asked. 'We could have them all to ourselves!'

'I dunno, Keith,' Ellis shook his head, putting his cap back on. 'Jimmy Gibbs Jr. asked me to do him a favour.'

'And?'

'And?' Ellis asked rhetorically. 'It's Jimmy Gibbs Jr.!'

'Just do it!' Keith ordered.

'Okay,' Ellis sighed, walking up to the group of four women. They stopped talking and smiled as he approached. Ellis was an attractive young man, no doubt. He only had problems when he opened his mouth. Taking off his cap once more, he spoke to them. 'Good morning, miss,' he said to one girl before looking at the one next to her. 'Ma'am.' He changed direction again. 'Young lady.' He turned to the final woman. 'Madam...' The girls all greeted him in unison by saying 'hi'.

'Hey...' Ellis shuffled nervously and looked around for a source of inspiration. 'Y'all here to do some shoppin', huh?' The girls giggled and nodded. 'Yeah, me too. I love malls, I do. Once I was in this mall up in Atlanta and these guys were dancing for like, money and stuff and my friend Keith, he's right there, and I was all...'

'Is that your friend?' one of the girls asked, pointing to Keith who was gawking at them awkwardly.

'Ah yeah, that's Keith,' Ellis said. 'He's a great guy. Jimmy Gibbs Jr. sent me to get you to talk to him so we could all go to his hotel room together, but Keith said we should talk to you instead.'

'But Keith's not talking,' one of the girls pointed out.

'Oh yeah, he's just shy. Had some bad experiences with the ladies, y'know.'

'Oh? Like what?'

'One time he drowned in the tunnel of love.'

'God!' one of the girls gasped.

'I know,' Ellis continued. 'You wouldn't think it could happen because that water they use is so shallow, but that's how it gets you, girl! Overconfidence, you know?' The girls were nodding their heads, genuinely enthralled by Ellis' story. 'Keith was with his lady at the time and he was yellin' for her to save him but she didn't want to get wet.'

'That's terrible!'

'Yeah, I know,' Ellis nodded. He looked over to Jimmy Gibbs Jr. who was giving him encouraging looks. 'Anyhow, Jimmy Gibbs Jr. wants to talk with you ladies.'

'Oh? Why?' he was asked. 'So we can go to his hotel room? What's so good about that?'

'Oh, Jimmy Gibbs, Jr. is the man. I mean I don't know anybody like that, girl. But there was this guy I knew, he raced dirt tracks, not stock cars but open wheeled cars you know, and he was racing once and a goat...' Keith appeared beside him.

'So do you want to go out with us sometime?' he asked abruptly. 'I don't do them goat things anymore!' The girls looked at each other then back at the two before shaking their heads and walked away. Keith buried his head in Ellis' shoulder and gritted his teeth. 'Why did you bring up the goat thing?'

'Hell, Keith,' Ellis held his hands up. 'I was just sayin'...'

'No one likes the goat story!' Keith protested. 'I was nearly arrested because of the goat story!'

'Okay, my bad...' Ellis looked up at Jimmy. 'Hell he's gonna get mad at me.'

'Let's get out of here,' Keith suggested. Putting his hand on Ellis' shoulder, the two left the mall just as Jimmy Gibbs Jr. began looking around, wondering where his young fans had got to. He then smiled and proceeded to flirt with a pregnant woman who began making excuses not to talk to him, saying she had to pick her son and daughter up from practice.

*

Coach waved goodbye to Tilly Franklyn, the mother of one of his students. Football practice had ended early today as many of the players had fallen ill. Collecting all the equipment and storing it away, Coach muttered to himself at how in his day, you'd need to have a limb sheared off before you could skip practice and you'd still be back the following week. He walked with the slightest limp, thanks to a knee injury back when he was young, which made it hard for him to actually play any sports. After everyone had left and after clearing everything away, he retreated back to his office where he sat down, breathing a great sigh of relief as his feet lifted from the floor.

Looking over, he wheeled his chair over to a miniature refrigerator where he retrieved a bar of chocolate. Next to the refrigerator there was a bin with a small basketball net over it.

'Time for some birthday chocolate,' he chuckled to himself. Licking his lips, Coach carefully unwrapped the foil that surrounded the bar, relishing in the anticipation of the first bite. The sweet smell drifted to his nose as he opened his mouth to take a delicious, savouring bite. The door burst open suddenly and Coach bit off more than he could chew, startled. He immediately began to choke.

'Oh, God!' cried the woman who had walked in. She had long blonde hair and gentle green eyes. She was a little smaller than Coach but was still a plump woman. She ran around behind his chair and put her arms around him. Squeezing hard on his large chest, she tried to dislodge the piece of chocolate. 'Come on, Coach!' she cried. Coach wheezed breathlessly. 'I'm not letting you die on me, not now, man!' She smacked him on his back and the piece of chocolate flew out and landed neatly in the waste bin, falling straight through the small hoop.

'Thanks, Ruth,' Coach said, coughing slightly. 'But, seriously, why did you just barge on in here?'

'I thought you were out practicing for the big game next week,' Ruth explained.

'Christ... the way those boys are playing we'd lose even if the other team was manned by a crew of rocks.'

'Well isn't it the coach's job to make sure they're good?' Ruth asked. There was a pause.

'What do you know about football?' Coach joked.

'Well not a lot, but I know a lot about you... I know it's your birthday and I know what you want, so I came here to give you this!' Ruth held up an envelope. 'I was hoping to surprise you with it... but you know.' Coach opened it and his face lit up with pure glee.

'You're shittin' me!' he smiled. Ruth shook her head. 'For real?'

'For real,' she nodded.

'You serious?'

'Hell yeah!'

'No joke?'

'Nope!' Ruth grinned, running to embrace him.

'Holy shit! Tickets to the Midnight Riders!'

'Well I thought it'd be nice,' Ruth explained. 'And they're playing at Whispering Oaks, so I it's a perfect gift because that's where we had our first date.' She tapped him on the end of his nose as she finished speaking.

'Damn girl! I think I may have to marry you!' The two laughed and hugged for a moment before stopping and looking tenderly at each other.

'Marry me, eh?' she asked.

'Ah, hell, I was just...'

'It's alright,' Ruth shook her head. 'Don't worry, I know what you meant. It was just nice to hear it.' Coach smiled at her and they embraced again. A few moments passed.

'So?' Coach whispered into her ear.

'So, what?' Ruth asked.

'What would you say?'

'Oh...' she looked away for a second, thinking about the question. 'I guess I'd say yes.'

'Really? Coach asked, soundly slightly amazed.

'Yeah...' Ruth nodded. 'I guess...'

'You guess?'

'Well we won't know unless you ask.'

'Oh right...' Coach said softly. He bit his bottom lip excitedly and then gently separated himself from Ruth. He winced slightly as he bent down on one knee, his good knee, before taking her hand. 'Ruth,' he said tenderly as sudden tears began to well in her eyes. 'Will you marry me?' Ruth blinked excitedly and tears streaked down her cheeks. She jumped up and down slightly before bending down to embrace him.

'You son of a bitch!' she cried merrily. 'Of course I will!' She let out a squeak of joy as she squeezed her new fiancé. 'Don't you tell me you've got me a ring!' Coach paused for a second.

'Alright I won't,' he laughed. 'But I'm gonna get you one.'

'No you don't!' Ruth protested. 'Don't you go buying me an expensive ring, I don't need it.'

'Yes you do,' Coach insisted. 'I want the whole world to know that I love you and we're gonna need a fancy ring for that.' Ruth blushed. 'Besides, you have expensive taste so I'll need it to match the rest of your things.'

'If I had expensive taste, why would I be engaged to you?' Ruth joked, leaning toward Coach to kiss him. The two shared a kiss before Ruth started bouncing happily again. 'I'm gonna go tell everybody!'

'You do that,' Coach winked at her, sitting back down on his chair. Ruth gave him a tender glance before leaving his office and screaming excitedly down the corridor. Coach chuckled as he heard her cry into the distance. He picked up the rest of his uneaten chocolate bar and the Midnight Riders tickets. 'Best birthday chocolate ever,' he said to himself, taking a bite out of the bar. He wasn't sure, but the chocolate tasted a lot sweeter now than it did before.

Savannah was now burning. People in the streets were running, fleeing from the carnage that surrounded them. The sun had only just risen. One week had passed and nearly the whole of the country was under siege. The United States was being destroyed from the inside by the infection. Military helicopters dotted the skyline, helping people escape. One helicopter was flying over the main street as people below chased after it, desperate for rescue. Onboard, the pilot was attacked by an infected passenger, and lost control. The helicopter slowed and then banked to the right suddenly, falling down to the ground. The people chasing after it stopped and started running the opposite direction to get away from it. The helicopter crashed into the street and slid over the road, the propellers chopping and slicing through numerous people, none of them infected.

Nearby, a lone Rochelle had filmed everything that had transpired. Holding the camera herself, she stepped out of the doorway she was hiding in and ran up close to get a better shot. As she approached the wreckage, a loud roar filled the air. Rochelle turned around just in time to see a car flying through the air at her. Jumping out of the way, she looked up from the ground she was now on to see the massive Tank that was roaring at her. Cursing to herself, Rochelle stood up with the camera and ran in the other direction as fast as she could, the Tank in close pursuit.

Rochelle ran through the crowds of panicking people, clusters of debris that hazarded the ground and pushed through the common infected that tried to get near her. Still on the main street out in the open, she decided to change tactics and attempted to outrun the tank in an alleyway. However, the beast's pursuit was relentless. She saw an open door in the alley and decided to head for it. Running through a kitchen, she took a frying pan from a stove and beat away the infected people as she made it through. The Tank crashed through the doors and Rochelle decided to run upstairs as fast as she could. Falling through some of the stairs, the Tank soon joined Rochelle in the corridor that led to the roof. Emerging outside on the rooftops, Rochelle looked around desperately. She was trapped.

'Oh God,' she gasped as the roar of the Tank followed her out the door. Just then, Rochelle heard a gunshot and lifted her arms defensively. The frying pan deflected a bullet shot by someone on the rooftop next to the building she was on. Rochelle looked over and saw a man in a white suit aiming for her. It was Nick. 'Hey!' she yelled at him. 'Try shooting some damn zombies!' Nick lowered his weapon. Rochelle looked through the door and saw the Tank approaching. 'Oh this is bad...' She looked over to Nick and then back at the Tank. She turned, throwing the frying pan away and ran full speed to the edge of the roof as the Tank burst through the door. Rochelle jumped as far as she could forward, through the air, but it was not enough. The Tank followed, falling off the rooftop and crashing to the ground. Rochelle began falling down through the air but her hand was caught by Nick, who securely held her and pulled her up. Her feet on solid ground, Rochelle breathed a sigh of relief. She checked to make sure the camera was still working and then sat down on the ground.

'Thanks,' she smiled.

'Yeah,' Nick nodded. The rooftop had a small roof garden with numerous plant pots and vegetable plots. Nick leant against one of the pots and reloaded his weapon. Rochelle, after taking a few breaths, looked out at the view from the roof. Savannah was in ruins. Smoke clouds were visible as far as the eye could see. The air was becoming smoggy and thick. The sounds were horrific; people screaming as they were being decimated by the infected, gunshots trying in vain to keep them away and the sounds of crashing by vehicles that attempted to transport people to safety. Rochelle swallowed and looked at Nick.

'So,' she said, 'what're you doing up here?'

'Building a plane to get us out of here,' Nick said sarcastically. Rochelle frowned and Nick shook his head. 'I figured I'd come here to die.'

'Why this rooftop?' she asked.

'Got some history here,' Nick said ambiguously. Rochelle tapped her camera with her hand nervously as she paced around the rooftop. 'Are you gonna stay?' Rochelle turned back to Nick, surprised by his question.

'What do you mean?'

'Look, no offence, lady, but I don't want any company.' Rochelle's eyebrows arched in surprise.

'Confident aren't you?' she commented.

'No,' Nick corrected her. 'I just know full well we're not going to get out of here.'

'We?' Rochelle asked. Nick rolled his eyes.

'Me,' he said. 'I don't see any point in giving anyone false hopes, including myself. Look out there.' He gestured to the view of the city. 'You'd be crazy to try and get out of here.'

'You'd be crazy to do it on your own...' Rochelle said softly. She looked at Nick and then bowed her head. Nick watched Rochelle as she stood there, tapping her camera. She suddenly looked up and stopped tapping.

'So we going or what?' she asked.

'Did you not just hear me, lady?' Nick stood up.

'Oh, please,' she interrupted. 'It's Rochelle.'

'I don't want to know your name,' Nick protested, 'because we're not going to team up.'

'I can get you some air time,' Rochelle grinned, holding the camera up. Nick looked away. 'So,' Rochelle said, pointing the lens to Nick. 'What's your story? What's your name?' Nick gave her a scornful look. 'You look like a... Billy-bob.'

'What?' Nick asked, annoyed.

'No... maybe... Richard? Richard Head?' Nick rolled his eyes again. 'Gaylord?'

'It's Nick,' he finally said. 'Nick.' Rochelle lowered the camera and smiled.

'Well it's nice to meet you, Nick.'

*

Coach made his way into the school, limping slightly as his knee was hurting. The hallways were full of infected people who decided to wait out the disaster there. Using a fire axe, he managed to cut through the couple of targets he ran into as he made his way to his destination. Turning a corner, he saw the door to his office was slightly ajar. He approached it slowly holding the axe firm. Taking a deep breath he kicked open the door and swung at the person inside.

'Hey!' his target cried. Coach changed the angle of the swing and ended up chopping his desk in half. As it fell to pieces, the person behind it stood up, hands outstretched. It was Ellis. The young man began spouting apologies. 'Sorry, mister, I... hey. Do I know you?'

'I don't think so,' Coach muttered, stepping over the desk. He opened one of the drawers and began searching through it.

'Hell yeah! I remember you! You used to teach gym!' Ellis said excitedly. 'Don't you remember me? I'm Ellis! Me and my friend, Keith, tried out for the football team. Keith ended up breaking nearly every bone in his body and that was before he got a hand on your balls.'

'Look, kid,' Coach said, not peering up from his desk. 'Do you really think this is the time to start looking back on the good old days when them bitches are out there?'

'Well you seem to be lookin' for somethin' important them out there have to wait for.' Coach sighed and rubbed his eyelids before continuing his search. Ellis pouted his lips and then continued to look around Coach's office.

'Yes!' Coach said happily, taking what he was looking for and putting it into his pocket. He stood up and went to leave.

'What ya got there?' Ellis asked. Coach paused by the door and turned around.

'Nothing,' he said irritably before stopping. He noticed Ellis had numerous cuts and scrapes on his arms and clothes and his knuckles were heavily bruised. 'What are you doing, son?'

'Me?' Ellis asked. 'Well, sir, I figured I'd go to my school since that's where me and Keith spent out whole childhood; see if I could find him but I couldn't.'

'How long have you been here?' Coach asked.

'Quite a while,' Ellis said. 'I figured we'd meet here because of all the memories... like this one time, to play a prank on the athletics squad, me and him filled up water balloons with our own-'

'I think that's enough,' Coach interrupted. He looked out down the dark corridor and sighed. 'Listen, how about we go look for him together?'

'Okay,' Ellis nodded. 'I was gettin' real bored here anyway. The chocolate in that fridge is disgustin'.' Coach frowned as Ellis left his office, yet he followed him out into the school.

*

Just off the west coast of America, the U.S.S. Abraham Lincoln, an enormous aircraft carrier, was positioned defensively. Helicopters, fighter jets and small boats were all leaving the Abraham Lincoln and heading for the shoreline. One helicopter, heading from the direction of open water, came in to land on the outer deck. As it slowly descended onto the helipad, Admiral Richard Jaeger stepped out onto the deck and adjusted his hat.

'God damn it I hate these bureaucrats,' he muttered to himself. As the helicopter touched down on the deck, the doors opened immediately and a man in an expensive business suit stepped out.

'Hello, Admiral,' said the Director, with a grin. 'Are you looking forward to getting this show underway?'

And so it begins... again. I'd like to thank you for reading and promise you a lot more is yet to come. Any reviews, comments, criticisms are greatly appreciated. I love getting reviews, it boots my ego haha. Anyway, I hope you'll enjoy what will be coming shortly. Thank you once more for reading. =]

Andy