Dislcaimer: Left 4 Dead 2 belongs to it's respective creators. The OC, Gina, and this particular plot belong to me

If you don't like OC's, good Infected, or SurvivorxInfected, then I highly advise you DON'T read this. Otherwise, enjoy~

Chapter Seven

Coming across the Wal-Mart was probably the best thing that'd happened to them, second only to getting a hold of the hybrid car, as short-lived as that was. Gina hoped the spoils of this discovery would last a bit longer.

The store was a bit of a mess, unsurprisingly – she could only imagine how things went down once the Infection hit – but there were still plenty of supplies that could be used. Currently, she was throwing medical supplies in the shopping cart she'd snagged at the entrance, Aaren watching her work.

It was amusing how this kind of find was now something akin to winning the lottery. Gina wheeled into the hygiene aisle, grabbing shampoo, conditioner and body wash, as well as several different kinds of body sponges, toothbrushes and toothpaste.

Aaren eyed the body wash disdainfully, before glancing at her. Gina returned his stare knowingly. "You and I both need a bath."

He grimaced. Obviously, he wasn't too fond of the idea. "No I don't," he replied, words only a tiny bit slurred. She grinned slightly. His speech was, for the most part normal. He could speak in coherent sentences, so long as they were short, and besides the occasional slurring, she understood everything he was trying to say. Or perhaps that was due to time spent together.

"But you do," she chided as she directed the cart towards the men's clothing, "Bad hygiene equals bad health, Infected or not."

He was grumbling behind her, and she chuckled in response. "Don't worry," she teased, glancing over her shoulder as his grouchy expression, "I'll hold your hand so you don't cry or anything like that."

He gave her an affronted glare, which nearly had her in stitches. "I'm kidding. Well, not about the bath part."

"Yea, yea. Figured," was his begrudging response. Nope, he wasn't looking forward to cleansing himself at all. It had to have been a guy thing; her brothers had always been like that…

Her thoughts drifted to that of her family. After dragging Aaren from the river, she'd discovered her cell phone had been thoroughly soaked. It was as good as dead. It had unnerved her; that phone was her only connection to her family; without it, there was no guarantee she'd ever be able to see them again. The last time she'd been in contact with any of them was a series of text messages between her and her mom:

Mom, are you alright? Some kind of weird outbreak blew up. I heard it's hell in Philly. I'm going south.

We're okay. Your brothers and sister are holding up. We're at an evac center here in Albany. They're flying us out.

Okay. I just hit Georgia. There's an evac in Savannah, I think. Don't lose your phone, okay? Tell Kimmie and Ricky and David to keep their phones with them at all times too. I can't lose track of you.

I won't. Please be careful.

I will. You too, be safe. I love you.

Love you too. We'll be waiting.

That was the last she'd heard from her.

There were a number of possibilities. Gina refused to even fathom the possibility that somehow her mother and her siblings hadn't made it. Being optimistic, she figured that wherever they ended up just had bad cell service. Yep. She would keep telling herself that. She'd keep telling herself that until she was throwing her arms around her mother and glomping her siblings. Because they couldn't be dead. They just couldn't.

Men's clothing wasn't a wreck. Neither would the women's section be, Gina suspected. Clothing had been the last thing on her mind since the beginning of this apocalypse; food, weapons and medical supplies were most important for survival, and likely, that was the thought processes of any other living survivors.

But with the damp clothing they'd been stuck wearing since their adventures in the Mississippi river, she'd been worried about fungal infections. The constant stopping in sheltered areas to air out their feet to prevent trench-foot, shivering every time the wind blew, had slowed their progress down tremendously. God only knew how far behind the others she was now. Rather than developing gangrene and hypothermia at the same time, however, she decided new outfits would take a higher notch on her priority list compared to normal.

That was why she was currently picking through the racks, looking for good quality shirts and pants. Glancing over at Aaren, however, she found it difficult to eyeball the size of his physique.

"Hey," she spoke up, catching his attention as he gave her a questioning look, "What size shirt do you wear?"

The Hunter glanced at himself briefly before shrugging. "I dunno."

That was helpful. She beckoned him, turning him around and fishing for a shirt tag without any luck. It wasn't really surprising; the clothes they were collectively wearing definitely had seen better days, that was for sure.

Still, it wasn't making the selection process any easier. Chewing on her lip thoughtfully for just a moment, Gina glanced over at Aaren again. "Take your shirt off."

He stared at her for a long moment. "… Why…?" he asked slowly.

Oh right. He couldn't read her mind. That had certainly come out wrong. "Oh, um," she replied, chuckling awkwardly, "I just need to eyeball your size. You know, for a t-shirt and hoodie."

Comprehension dawned on him before he began what looked like a torturously arduous process of undressing. It reached the point where she had to give him some assistance. Clearly there were other things she was going to have to start working on with him; fine motor movements aside from speaking had completely fled her mind, which she inwardly smacked herself for. Narrow-minded treatments were a no-no in her book, so it irritated her that she didn't even think to look at any other affected skills. But that would be an issue for a later time.

Now that Aaren was shirtless, Gina took a step back to survey his torso. His muscles were extremely well-defined; it'd been hard to tell underneath his clothing. It wasn't too much of a shock, since he was extremely sturdy – his muscles had to adapt as such. She could only imagine how powerful his legs were.

But… he had an amazing body… kind of like a Greek God, but she wasn't about to say that aloud. Nor was she about to admit that she was ogling more than studying. And of course, the longer she stared the more her imagination wandered… she had to discreetly pinch herself to get back on track. Yes, Aaren's cute… actually, he's hot… very hot… oh so very hot… shut up hormones, I'll kill you.

He had some scars here and there – battle wounds, she suspected, and she liked the way it added a bit of a roguish look to him – but there weren't any boils or skin abnormalities that she'd seen in other Hunters. What did that mean? Instead, his skin had taken on a grayish hue, but other than that, he looked completely human…

She came to a pause and stilled as her thoughts truly sank in. Looked human… Aaren didn't just "look" human, he was a human. Ever since the start of this supposed Green Flu, she suddenly realized, it'd never actually occurred to her that the Infected – the "zombies" as Ellis had so fondly called them – were simply humans. Humans – victims – with a devastating illness that not only endangered them but everyone else around them. And she had been shooting and killing these humans, everyday people that were once just like her, without even blinking an eye.

How many of those Infected were like Aaren? How many of them had self-awareness and recognition? How many of them could've been taken in, monitored, maybe even treated? How many of them could've been saved?

That just couldn't get any more fucked up.

Something had to have changed in her expression as she made this realization; she was startled from her thoughts when Aaren rested a hand on her shoulder. She found him watching her with concern. If she hadn't been in the midst of a quiet breakdown, she would've taken the time to admire his facial features - and those were the most beautiful eyes she'd ever seen - now that she could see them exposed.

"Hey… you okay?" he asked, and she couldn't bring herself to say no, I just realized I'm a serial killer who didn't care how many people she'd shot and bludgeoned and stabbed and I killed so many of them what the hell is wrong with me?!

Instead she blinked, shaking her head to forcefully clear her head, and gave him a reassuring smile. "It's nothing," she replied, "Just… thinking about things."

It was hard to tell if Aaren could see right through her; she'd always been really good at hiding things. Even the big things. Like what happened to her growing up; she'd kept it a secret for years the things her abusive father did to her as a child, and no one ever had a clue. But with the look Aaren was giving her, he probably wasn't buying the "I'm okay" spiel.

"Let's worry about that later," she continued, inwardly cringing at the defensiveness of her tone, "For now, let's get the rest of the supplies we need and get out of here."

Aaren seemed to understand, and let the subject go. She gave him a thankful smile – I'll be okay, I promise – and set to work grabbing shirts and comparing them to his being. The choice between telling him and not telling him lingered in the back of her mind, but presently, she just wanted to get what they needed and leave.

…

"Come on, Aaren."

This was so not cool.

How she'd managed to strip him down to his boxers was still a mystery to Aaren. The evening in the hotel room had started with him asking Gina about her sudden change in mood back at the supermarket, and she evaded the topic in such a blur that the next thing he knew, they were standing in the bathroom, he was nearly naked (at least she was allowing him enough dignity to keep his underwear), and she was running a bath.

Even now though, as she was checking the water temperature, it was still clear to him that something was bothering her. The only question was, what?

Movement snapped him out of his thoughts. Gina had finished setting things up and was now looking at him expectantly. Oh right. There was still a crisis he had to avert before he could go about trying to figure out what was going through her mind.

"Well?" she asked as he slowly glowered at her. If she really thought he was going to willing set foot into any body of water after what happened in that hellish swamp, then she was definitely out of her mind.

"There's no way I'm gettinnn' th't," he shot back, words slurring a bit at the end as he hastily rushed through the phrase. He knew Gina understood him nonetheless – he could see the exasperation in her eyes. He didn't care. He almost died the last time he was in water. He'd be damned if that happened again.

She huffed. "Aaren," her voice was strained with impatience, "If I can rescue you from a raging river, I'm pretty sure I can rescue you from a god damned bathtub."

With those words, he shot her an indignant glare. He had experienced bits of her sarcasm here and there, especially when she was beginning to lose her temper, but really, that was just a low blow! "Was that supposed to be funny?"

He was positive that, had he been a bystander, he would've been rolling on the floor, laughing so hard that tears would've been streaming from his eyes at how ridiculous the scenario was turning out to be. Only he wasn't a bystander; he was about to become a victim, and there was no way in hell he was getting in that tub without a fight!

"Aaren, please get in the tub."

"No."

"Aaren. Get in the tub."

"I said no."

"I swear to god Aaren, if you don't get in that tub, I'm getting you into that tub."

"Like hell you are!"

"Oh that is it!"

She lunged at him, the movement actually catching him off guard. It wasn't everyday that a girl would assault a Hunter. Their proximity didn't help either, and that was how Aaren found himself in a full Nelson, Gina fighting to drag him into the water.

"Just wait a sec!" He frantically snapped, trying to thrash out of her grip… what the hell was this?! Her death grip must've been some kind of gift from the gods! It was impossible to throw her off of him, especially since he didn't want to hurt her. Actually, you're probably irritating her ribs with all this struggling, a nagging voice in the back of his head reminded him.

All the while, though, a deep panic was creeping up to the forefront of his consciousness. He did not want to get into the tub; he wanted to get the hell away from that water, and fast.

They slammed into the tub, some of the water splashing out from the impact. Aaren felt the wetness on his bare skin, and froze up, heart suddenly hammering in his throat. The water was too close too close too close. He began to push back harder, desperate to get away from the water the tub the bathroom. Please don't make me do this I'm not going to do this screw you I don't want to die if I get in that water I'm going to drown I'll drown I'll drown I'll drown no.

With the effort he put in though, Gina pushed back just as hard, as freakishly impressive as that was. And as he tried to step forward, his foot slipped upon stepping in one of the fresh puddles on the floor. With Gina still pushing against him with all her weight, the sudden loss of footing toppled them over into the tub with a loud, messy splash.

He was back in the river again.

He didn't understand why the water was warm this time around, and he didn't care. All that mattered was getting out. Thrashing, he tried to force his arms and legs to move, tried to swim, doggy paddle, anything, but his limbs felt like lead weights.

The green-black murkiness was swallowing him whole and he couldn't breathe he couldn't move where was Gina why wasn't she pinning his arms anymore oh gods no she'd lost grip of him he wasn't getting out he couldn't get out he was going to die going to die please don't let me die PLEASE I DON'T WANT TO DIE!

A voice, loud and clear, suddenly rang in his ears. "AAREN!"

There was light, once again. There was water all over the off-white tiles. Gina, who was somehow tangled with him, was a sopping wet mess. The overhead florescent was obnoxiously bright, and it slightly hurt his eyes as he stared into it, reality dawning upon him.

They were in the hotel bathroom.

"Calm down," Gina's voice, steady and calm, reached his ears, and he sought to grab hold of that anchor, something to ground himself, to avoid another panic attack. "What do you see?"

Well, aside from the mess they had made on the floor, nothing had changed, aside from their relocation to tub, and the water… he stiffened, heart starting to race again.

"Aaren, look at me," Gina demanded. He immediately complied. Her brown gaze was unwaveringly composed and she held his eyes with hers almost relentlessly. Focus only on me, he could almost hear her saying.

"You're not drowning."

Her provided epiphany was almost mind-blowing. But, as he slowly broke his gaze with her and surveyed himself – sitting in a bathtub, not sinking, not underwater – he quickly realized it. No, he wasn't drowning. Even though he was in water, he was safe. Gina was with him. He was safe.

The rest of his bath went by uneventfully. Gina thoroughly and vigorously scrubbed away at his body and hair, and then pulled herself out of the tub, drawing the curtain shut. This had nearly incited another panic attack out of him – no no no don't leave me alone in here please stay with me I don't want to drown I need you to pull me out of here stay with me please – before she spoke, voice gentle and reassuring.

"Wash your face and… that area. I'll be right here on the other side of this in case you need me."

She even poked a hand through the curtain, to visually prove to him her presence was still there as he hastily scrubbed the dirt, sweat and grime off of his face and nether regions. Even if he wasn't drowning, he still didn't particularly like being in a tub full of water, especially after nearly dying just several days ago. But he was grateful that she was accommodating him for his apparent, newly discovered hydrophobia.

Truthfully, said random aversion to water was something he hadn't expected. He frequented the beaches at Ocean City often, or at least, he used to. He could swim like a fish, but apparently the Infection changed that, which nearly killed him in the process. It was a good thing that Gina was around; he wouldn't have made it otherwise.

He made his thanks known once he'd finished, watching as Gina inspected his face and washed it a second time. Obviously he hadn't done a good job by her standards. He shuddered nervously as she carefully and thoroughly rinsed him off before proceeding to allow him to escape the tub, tossing him a towel. There was a smile on her face, warmer that what he was used to, and he briefly wondered what was going through her mind to cause such an expression. It was something, he realized, that he wanted to see more of. It was a pleasant light to her eyes, normally clouded by fatigue and anxiety.

"It's no problem," she replied, grin turning playful as she continued with "I desperately need to shower, so shoo."

Chuckling, he complied, leaving the door open a little and instructing her to shout if she needed him. Of course, it wasn't like he was expecting her to have any problems, but in the present apocalyptic setting the eastern United States had found itself in during the past several weeks, Aaren had learned that anything really could happen, both good and bad.

The sound of the running water from the shower was soothing. Coupled with the steam drifting through the cracked-open door, the room had a calming, comforting feel to it. For the first time in months, Aaren's painfully tense shoulders relaxed. He could finally take a breath, after all of the fighting and running and killing.

So, he mulled over his thoughts. It had been a couple of weeks since he and Gina began on their journey together. Truthfully, however, he'd been tailing her and her group for a week before that, trying to help them from the shadows as best he could, but knowing that if he exposed himself, more likely than not he would've been attacked. It'd been like that since he turned.

The day it'd become clear to his family that Aaren had changed, his father had come at him with a shotgun, completely blind to Aaren's attempts at expressing docility – Dad I'm fine I swear I won't hurt you please listen to me! His sister, cowering in the far corner of their trashed kitchen, was screaming something; he wasn't sure if she was trying to stop their father or encourage him.

Somehow, Aaren had managed, barely, to avoid the bullet spray that surely would've shredded his chest to oblivion. And he ran, faster than he ever had before in his entire life. Soon the running turned to leaping, and although he hated the transformation his body had undergone, he couldn't help but admit the ease he'd felt at the time, springing from rooftop to rooftop.

It'd felt like hours and hours before he felt safe enough to stop, and the only thing he could do at that point was find some kind of shelter, terrified at what'd happened and the sudden uncertainty of his future. Just what was wrong with him? What was going on? Why were people getting sick and changing? Why'd it have to happen to him too? Why'd his father not see that he was harmless? That he hadn't turned out the way Mom turned out?

Was he going to die out here? Alone?

Since that fateful day, he'd tried to find people, signs of life, something. But he found nothing but death and pestilence. He watched as those who had been infected die slowly, painfully, and it terrified him, kept him awake for many a night as he anxiously wondered if the same fate would befall him as well. Suffer from pain and insanity, alone with no one by his side until the illness finally sapped his life to nothing, leaving his body to fester and rot like a piece of discarded trash.

The near-crippling loneliness had all but consumed him as the weeks went by, along with the fear that he really would die alone. The survivors he'd try to approach had reacted the same way his father had – by aiming and pulling the trigger. Victims of the Green Flu were so far gone that they either hardly acknowledged his existence, or viewed him as some kind of threat. Other times, as he aimlessly wandered the terrain, he was ambushed and had to struggle, at times almost desperately, for his life. Hunters who'd claimed chunks of land as their territory were completely merciless. To them, trespassing was a penalty punishable only by death.

He didn't know how many he'd killed. He stopped counting a long time ago. It didn't even matter anymore, his guilt having ceased eating away at him a long way back. The only thing that Aaren had carried with him was the pain from being alone.

That all changed when he found Gina.

He still didn't understand why, unlike all the others before her, she'd hesitated as he slowly tried to approach her on the dock that morning. Her gun, held in a steady grip, aimed with an unwavering gaze at his head… there was no way he would've been able to dodge a bullet from her pistol. She could've killed him with no trouble, without a second thought, and gone on with her life.

And yet… she paused. It was enough of a pause for her to realize he was the Hunter who'd been helping her out. And that pause saved his life.

She probably had no idea just how much her presence alone had done for him, for his sanity. Gina was the anchor he'd been frantically searching for, a reason, a purpose to fight whatever the hell this virus was, to keep living. The emptiness, the solitude, the misery, she had driven away just by being.

And, selfishly, he didn't really want her to catch up to her friends. Because then she would leave, and then he would be alone, and if he was alone again, he really didn't know what he'd do with himself aside from just giving up, finding some hole or something to crawl in, and dying. As long as she was around, he would have a reason to be around as well – to look out for her and make sure she was okay.

The steady noise from the shower abruptly stopped, and Aaren was suddenly acutely aware of the water droplets falling from the faucet to the porcelain surface of the tub, echoing off the linoleum floor and walls. There were a few minutes of quiet rustling – Gina getting dressed, he figured – before the door opened, steam billowing out into the hotel room. The young woman was toweling her hair, dressed in a new zip-up hoodie and sweatpants similar to the ones she'd found for him, stating that they would be more comfortable to sleep in compared to the jeans she'd also grabbed from Wal-Mart.

Letting out a sigh, Gina sat down next to him as he leaned against the foot of the bed. He could feel her body heat radiating to his shoulder as hers rested inches away. Her body language came across as languid, calm. But Aaren knew better. There was still a hint of something in her eyes. She was brooding; over what, he didn't know. Nothing significant had happened since his near-death experience in the Mississippi.

No, that wasn't right… something had happened at the store. She'd froze; her eyes were wide in horror, though it wasn't directed towards any outside threat. At least, that was the conclusion he'd come to after doing a thorough visual sweep of the area. Aside from the two of them, Wal-mart had been completely abandoned.

That still didn't tell him what it was, exactly, that seemed to be deeply affecting her.

They sat there next to each other in silence for a long moment. It was hard to tell whether it was a comfortable silence or a heavy one. Aaren settled for watching the light on the wall flicker as the nearby lamp slowly started to die.

He wouldn't break the silence; pushing for answers never got anything done. Rather, it caused the person in question to close up within themselves, putting up all sorts of walls and barriers to hide whatever it was that was going through their mind. He knew that when Gina was ready, she would speak up. So until then, he would wait. Patience was a skill he had to master after becoming a Hunter; waiting for the opportune moment to emerge from a hiding spot, to attack an enemy, or to approach a survivor.

Surprisingly, he didn't wait all that long.

"Hey…" her voice was quiet and uncharacteristically hesitant, and it almost unnerved him. It was almost as if he was hearing someone else entirely. "Is it right to do what we've been doing?"

At first, the question seemed too vague to fathom what she was talking about. After a moment though, it all became very clear. She was feeling guilt. He knew – he'd been there. It was the kind of thing that would implode a person if they bottled it up and tried to ignore it.

He turned, glancing at her steadily. There was a slightly questioning glance in her brown eyes, which disappeared once he spoke. "There's no right and wrong in survival," he paused for a moment, letting her think about his words. "You do what you have to."

She looked unsure. He didn't blame her; it'd taken him a long time to come to terms with everything that'd happened and everything that he'd done. And he had to fight through those feelings alone.

So, to give further comfort, he wrapped an arm around her shoulders, and gently tugged her closer, leaning her against him in a simple hug. She didn't flinch away or stiffen, only glancing at him quizzically. "It's hard," he continued, "But there are no rules."

Understanding, her gaze fell for a moment before averting to the flickering lamp. "Kill, or be killed, huh?" she quietly remarked, her voice slightly bitter. He could feel her guilt rolling off of her in waves. He pulled her closer, tightening his embrace, but not speaking any words. No words needed to be spoken, not aloud.

Share your burden with me. It's hellish trying to go through it alone. I'm here for you, trust me.

They sat in silence, no tension between them. Rather, they reveled in each other's sorrow, comforting each other with their actions, their presence, instead of words. They sympathized which each other, after all. Surviving was hard. Surviving alone was nearly unbearable.

Finding the will to go on against such impossible odds never got any easier. The hopelessness was a burden that grew heavier with each passing day. It was a mutual understanding that the two of them were holding each other up at this point. They were all they had.

Slowly, he felt the tension dissipate from Gina's body as she gradually relaxed. He didn't realize she had fallen asleep until he felt her chest rise and fall more slowly, more deeply. Carefully, he glanced over at her, almost taken aback at how peaceful she looked. It was a stark difference from the anxiousness and calculating concentration that he saw as her expression nearly every waking moment of the day.

The lamp flickered again, and he glanced over in time to watch as the bulb dimmed further. His sudden movement caused Gina to shift, and he looked back at her as she settled, breaths evening out once more and he gave pause as he took in the sight of her.

The dimmed bulb, which cast a warm glow over the room, had an astounding effect on Gina's features. Her already warm-toned skin had taken on almost a golden hue in the light. Her lips were full and soft-looking… the Hunter found himself wondering what they'd feel like meshed against his own.

It was strange, being caught off-guard by the insight that Gina, for all of her toughness and everyday grimy appearance, was in reality a very feminine young woman. And the more he thought about it, the more Aaren realized that she was not only a feminine young woman; she was also a very attractive young woman.

The bandage on her cheek stood out starkly on her skin, and the Hunter's heart clenched. She had a pretty face… and he was the one who marred it. How bad would the scar be? Hesitantly, he raised his free hand, reaching to stroke the skin around the gauze. Then the focus of his gaze shifted from her smooth skin to his own pale, clawed hand.

He wrenched it back abruptly from her face, the motion causing Gina to shift slightly, briefly furrowing her brows in her sleep, but he paid her no mind. He could only stare at his hand, gray skinned, nails the shape of talons… could they even be called hands anymore? Could he even be called a human? This disgusting mutation… He was a freak.

He clenched his hand into a tight fist, arm quivering from the force of his contraction. The little pricks of pain in his palm didn't faze him. Would he always be like this? Forever?

He might as well have been handed a death sentence. He'd never find salvation - he'd be killed by a Survivor or another Infected if the disease didn't kill him first. He'd never be able to see his family again - were they even still alive? - and even if he did, they would shun him just as fast as they had the first time. And he probably wouldn't dodge the shotgun blast a second time.

Once he helped Gina to safety, he would spend the rest of his pitiful existence alone, hated, rejected.

What was the point in trying to hang on? He had no future. He had nothing.

Abruptly, his eyes stung relentlessly. His mutated hand blurred in his vision and a lump lodged itself in the back of his throat, causing him to nearly choke. Pressing a hand to his eyes, he felt warm trickle along his fingers as his chest tightened almost painfully. His turbulent emotions were suffocating him.

He pulled away from his friend, the motion causing her to stir and blearily open her eyes as he rushed over to the door. "Aaren...?" she groggily asked, and he could hear the curiosity and concern in her voice. Don't be worried about me of all people. I'm not worth it. Please just don't care anymore.

He left the bedroom without a word, closing the door behind him. He bustled out of the hotel room in the quiet hallway, and collapsed against the wall, shoulders shaking as he tried to fight back the sobs that wracked his body only to succumb to them in the end as he slid down to the floor and buried his face in his hands.

He didn't know how much further he could go on.

...

Something was wrong with Aaren, she was sure of it.

They had been walking through the empty streets of New Orleans for a couple of hours now, making their way towards the bridge. Aaren had been uncharacteristically quiet the whole time, almost standoffish in a way. And maybe it was just her, but it looked like he was brooding about something. But when she'd tried to ask him about it, he refused to talk about it, instead opting to brush it off with a quiet "It's nothing."

If she hadn't known better, she'd have thought the Hunter was angry with her. But at the same time, his behavior reminded her of her younger sister, who used to get snappish and distant when she was inwardly hurting. And it was painful to see that Aaren seemed to be in such a state, especially when she couldn't do anything about it.

So, she'd dropped the topic, only for the moment. She learned through experience that premature confrontation only resulted in fighting. Hopefully he would be willing to talk, eventually...

At any rate, the present challenge was more important. The evacuation center couldn't be too much farther. She could only hope there were still airlifts taking place, otherwise she didn't know what she'd do.

Rounding a corner, her thoughts abruptly ceased as the sight that met her eyes caused Gina to freeze in her steps, completely shocked. A pile of bodies... several different piles of bodies - mounds really - were scattered around the immediate area. They rose taller than her, just corpse after corpse carelessly thrown on top of one another like discarded pieces of trash. As if these people weren't even worthy of a proper burial. But why?

The stench was terrible; Gina had to fight off the urge to retch with every fiber of her being. What the hell had happened here?

Amid her horror and nausea, however, there was a nagging voice in the back of her mind. Something's not right. And as she took a step closer to the nearest pile, and another step, and another, she realized yes, something was off.

"Gina...? Hey, quit that!" Aaren grabbed her arm before she could finish pulling a body from the nearest pile. She glanced over at him, his gaze incredulous. "What the hell're you doing?!"

"These aren't Infected, Aaren," it almost weirded her out how self-assured she sounded, and she tugged free of his grasp and resumed pulling on the body she'd selected from the pile until she managed to wrench it free. "Just take a look at it!"

No matter how she looked at it, there wasn't any sign of the Infection. No change in skin color, no glowing eyes, no vomiting or black blood, nothing. "Aaren," she continued, "These are healthy people. They weren't Infected."

Aaren had come up next to her, scrutinizing the corpse. "They're all like this...?" he asked. It took her a moment to try and survey each body she could, but she found no differences.

"Yea, I think so..." The Hunter hummed in response, falling silent for a long moment as Gina continued to look over the body she'd plucked. "No signs of infection... but look at these holes..."

She'd seen a lot of disturbing things since the beginning of the Infection, but for some reason, she couldn't shake what she was seeing. Because she couldn't help but wonder if maybe the holes were bullet holes. But if that were the case, with all these seemingly healthy people, what would lead whomever to shoot them and leave them in piles like some kind of mass slaughter? Just the way things were left, it portrayed organization, in a way. Mass-executions...

Did it have something to do with all of the hateful messages she'd begun to see in the safe houses they camped out at? "Kill all Carriers!" and other similar phrases were a common occurrence out here. Gina's medical education had taught her that a carrier was a person who carried the virus, but wasn't infected by it. Was that what had been meant in those graffiti messages? If that was the case...

"Gina, hey..." Aaren's voice drifted into her subconscious, and she turned to glance at him. He blinked, almost looking taken aback, probably in response to the look on her face.

"They were killing carriers, Aaren," she whispered, and she roughly ran her hands through her hair, palms pressing into her temples, trying to somehow slow her suddenly racing thoughts, "I don't know why, but they were... maybe it was risk of transmission? But how, I haven't heard anything about them figuring out the means of transmission and yet they were just killing people left and right did they even know whether or not they were carriers...?!"

"Calm down!" Aaren's hands were grasping her shoulders, squeezing them gently. He was likely trying to comfort her. A part of her felt bad for her outburst, but the growing panic was very quickly overriding that.

"What if I'm a carrier, though?" her voice quickly rose in volume, "I'd make it to a safe point, only to get shot!"

Aaren started trying to reason with her. "You might not be a carrier though-..."

Gina wasn't having any of that though. There were so many bodies. If she had to guess, this virus was the kind of virus that no immune system could create antibodies for. You would either end up a carrier or an Infected. No one was safe from it.

"I'm not going to the evac site. I'm staying out here with you."

Aaren looked momentarily stunned at her words. But then his gaze hardened. "Gina, you aren't safe out here."

"Well I'm not safe in there either!" she snapped, "At least I know you won't kill me for having the virus!"

A loud, thunderous boom startled the duo into silence, the argument completely forgotten in that instant.

"That wasn't an explosion..." Gina couldn't help but speak at a rushed pace as she glanced around through narrowed eyes, trying to find the source of the sound. That noise was a sign of something other than Infected. What if it were her friends? She glanced back at Aaren just as he simultaneously did the same. "That wasn't an explosion Aaren - what the heck was that?"

"It sounded like some big metal thing-..." Abruptly a collective roar arose from all around them. Instinctively, they shifted closer together, Aaren crouching and growling as he scanned the area, and Gina pulling out her pistols.

It was the sound of the Horde. And never before had it sounded so loud. It sounded like the number of Infected rose well into the hundreds, and that sound had simultaneously provoked all of them.

Aaren's sudden grip on her arm startled her, but she didn't have time to do so much as yelp before he was pulling her into a dead sprint. "There's too many of them," his voice held more than enough urgency to get the message across, "We need to hide, now."

They tore down the street, Gina following as best as she could. She had always prided herself on keeping up with the guys on the soccer pitch, but it was all she could do to keep up with the Hunter as he led the way. Abruptly, he veered right, and she nearly lost her balance from the sudden change in direction. If he hadn't been holding on to her, she was certain she would've fallen face-first into the pavement. She quickly realized that they were running towards a storefront, the front window shattered and leading the way into a darkened room. It wasn't exactly closed off from the Infected, but so long as they remained quiet, they wouldn't see them, right?

They hopped through the window, and Aaren all but wrenched her into the adjacent corner. Her back slammed into the wall, nearly knocking the wind out of her. As it was, the impact jarred her still tender ribs, and she let out a pained moan, although that was very quickly muffled by Aaren's body as he moved even closer to her, shielding her from the outside like a protective cocoon.

It amazed her that their bodies weren't completely flush against one another; Aaren's arms braced against the wall on either side of her, their chests mere inches apart. Their pants mixed and mingled in the air around them as the noise grew outside. But for now, they were safe.

Somehow, he managed to lean in even closer - there was still that much space between them? "Stay quiet."

He hadn't needed to tell her that, or so she thought. But his voice alone was helping her calm down from what she realized was the brink of a panic attack. So, she heeded his words and focused on her breathing.

That was her original intention, but at the minutes ticked by, she found her mind wandering, very quickly, into wholly inappropriate areas for the current situation. No matter how hard she tried though, she couldn't stop herself. Not with their proximity; the only thing separating them was their body heat. And that thought alone caused a new kind of heat to grow within her, one that dropped down her navel and settled into a smoldering throbbing between her legs. Especially once her mind's eye re-conjured images of Aaren's muscular torso, his thick, strong thigh muscles, slicked with bathwater, the lump her stomach rested on after they'd fallen into the tub, and then imagined the kinds of things that would've happened if she'd been in a different, more erotic mindset...

Her breath hitched, and she knew Aaren had heard it, like she was certain he could probably hear her heart pounding in her chest as her breathing grew heavier, erratic.

"Hey..."

Aaren's voice was different, breathier, lower, and the change in tone only fueled her abrupt arousal. She could see his eyes from her vantage point, and they held a heated glow that nearly took her breath away. Slowly, excruciatingly slowly, she could feel the space between them closing as he leaned his chest against hers. The contact caused her to gasp, tilting her head back and meeting his gaze fully.

And then his head was slowly dipping towards her, hot puffs of air caressing her face as he drew closer, tickling her ear, skirting just past her jawbone and causing her to shiver. If she tilted her head just a little bit, she'd be able to brush her lips against his and...

Aaren paused abruptly, blinked as clarity and focus came over his expression, and he began to pull away and it was all she could do to bite back the whimper that bubbled up her throat. She watched as her turned his head, listening to something, and slowly she came down from her lust-fueled high. What? What is he...?

And then she heard it too; the sounds of gunfire.

Gunfire meant people.

Focus, Gina. There's a time and place for that kind of thing. She glanced at Aaren. "That sound earlier..." she felt her ears heat up as she heard how breathless her voice sounded, and she could've cringed in embarrassment, "That metal sound... isn't the bridge really close to here?"

A moment passed as they stared at each other before realization crossed Aaren's expression and he muttered curses under his breath. "That bridge is a drawbridge I bet," he replied, pausing and glancing back out at the passing Infected, "They're crossing the bridge."

Which could only mean that, across the bridge, there was safety - a way out.

While one part of her was elated that she had a chance to catch up to Ellis and the others, another part of her inwardly screamed in protest. Finally reuniting with her group of Survivors was great, but she would be leaving Aaren behind. Aaren, who had looked out for her and protected her more than anyone she'd come across thus far. What would happen to him?

"We need to go," Aaren was looking out the window, oblivious to her inner-conflict, "If you use your knife as we go... we should be able to make it."

Her words left her mouth before Gina could think to stop them. "What about you?"

Aaren glanced back over at her, eyes slightly wide - that same stunned look she'd seen earlier. His gaze softened, tainted by a bitterness that she didn't want to see there. "Don't worry about me," he gently reassured her, reaching around her back, drawing her hunting knife, and placing the handle in her hand, "As long as you're safe, I'll be fine."

No, he wouldn't be fine. Just like she wouldn't be fine. There was no safer place for her than next to him, she was officially convinced of this. But before she could voice these thoughts aloud, he grabbed her wrist, pulling her forward. "We're going!"

The following moments were a blur to her. The sunlight dazzled her at first coming out of the store, but it was only an instant later that she was slashing through the throat of an Infected, driving her elbow into the skull of another simultaneously as she sprinted down the street. She spun and wove around as many as she could, not wanting to be slowed down by fighting. She knew, however, that as she hurdled towards the highway and the bridge, Aaren was right by her side.

Instincts took over as her adrenaline kicked. Shove one to the right, slash at one to her left, duck under a swinging arm and vault over an abandoned car. As they rounded a corner, the highway on-ramp in view, and the river just beyond that, Gina grabbed her pipe bomb, throwing it in some random direction as hard as she could. Skirting under the on-ramp, they quickly discovered a barbed-wire fence beyond that, separating them from the river. Beneath the highway, at the foot of the bridge, was a maintenance room that appeared to extended to the surface of the bridge itself. From her vantage point however, she could see the swarms of Infected charging along the bridge.

Coming up into the thick of that was practically suicide. There had to be a safer way to get to, or even across, the bridge. Maybe the fence...

Gina hurried back over to the fence, and began frantically searching for a way to get around, to try and maybe find a way to climb up onto the bridge directly. There were no gaps she could squeeze through, no holes to crawl under, and the barbed wire somehow was unscathed after all these weeks of pure chaos. She was starting to think that she had no way over when Aaren tugged at her arm. Turning around, she found him indicating his back. "Hop on! I can make that jump-...!"

A roar from overhead cut off Aaren's sentence. Two fighter jets screamed passed them, towards the bridge. Why were they here? As she turned back to the fence, a thought crossed Gina's mind just as a pit of dread settled into her stomach. There was only one reason for the fighter jets to be here, and one reason alone: firepower. And in that moment, it all became very clear to her.

"No..." She shook her head, gripping the fence tightly as she watched on in horror, "NO!"

In the far distance, on the other side of the river, a helicopter was lifting off into the air. She could only hope that inside of it were her friends. Just as it flew away, the fighter jets made another pass through, this time firing missiles at the bridge, which went up in a colossal inferno.

Slowly, she sank to her knees. Whether or not she was conflicted about leaving for the safe zone didn't matter. That was the last known evacuation center in the country. There was no other way out.

The fighter jets flew over them, and at first, she didn't process why. They had no reason to turn back inland; likely they had originally deployed from an aircraft carrier at sea in the first place, so why...

Seconds later, the ground beneath them rocked as a building nearby exploded.

If she'd been standing, Gina was sure she would've been knocked off her feet. Before she could orient herself, however, another building exploded, and then another. The military was bombing what was left of New Orleans, not caring if there were stragglers or not.

Screaming, she hunched over, trying to cover her head with her hands. The whole world was coming down around her it was actually the end of the world oh god was she going to die right here and now oh god no I don't want to die I don't want to die I don't want to die please someone help me-...

"GINA!" A hand grabbed her arm and wrenched her up. Aaren's eyes held the same fear she felt, and she wondered if this would be the last expression she'd ever see on him.

"COME ON!" He dragged her into a sprint, head back the way they came. Only this time, he was dead set on the on-ramp, and they hurriedly squeezed underneath it.

Gina curled into a ball, pressing herself as close to the cement as she could. It was as if they were trapped in a war zone; the noise was deafening, the heat scalding. This really was the end. There was no way they were going to survive this.

She barely processed when Aaren wrapped his arms around her tightly, just as a missile impacted the on-ramp above them. He pulled her close as slabs of charred concrete fell around them. The chaos reached a crescendo, and somehow her voice came over that, screaming Aaren's name.

And then, there was nothing.

A/N: OMG YOU GUYS I AM SO SORRY.

No I haven't abandoned this story, I swear to you. The past year and change has been insane. Spring semester last year was hellish, I moved across the country, and now I just finished up my first year at GRAD SCHOOL! Also, I was having some serious difficulty with the second and third scenes, but yays I finally figured it out! Many thanks to my sister and De Mam who both helped me with plot/character development and grammar/spelling crap.

Now, I have a SLIGHT problem. Just a slight problem. And that is, I'm not quite sure what I want to have happen. It all really depends on how hurt people are (because come on, a freaking highway just buried them), and how far forward I want to jump in time. I have a couple of possible ideas in mind, but I just need to really think about it.

To make up for the fact that I took so long, I'll have you know that this chapter is the longest one I've written yet for this story. 18 pages. So I hope you guys aren't too mad at me! Thank you for being patient (unless you gave up waiting for this chapter, in which case I'm super sorry for that), and now that I have a bit more free time, I'm going to seriously work on outlining the next several chapters and figuring out what's going to happen next.

I love you guys! -G