Cameron woke up to the sound of slow shuffling through the woods. The step-drag step-drag slowly grew louder behind him. He racked his brain for anything that could remember about the night before. They had been running. She had been nice to him. Then darkness.

The step-dragging stopped, and Cameron took the time to collect himself. Infected were rare in remote areas like this, but not unheard of. They weren't too far away from the highway. This was just his luck.

Step-drag. Step-drag.

It started again. Cameron willed the world to stop. He froze as the creature rounded the left side of the tree.

Step-drag. Step-drag.

The shuffling was starting the match the pounding in the back of his head. If he got out of this in once piece, it would be a miracle. He would make them live to regret it.

Step-drag. Step-drag.

He swung the stick in his hand before he could react. There was no way to tell who the poor bastard had been. Mushroom like scales had taken over the face, and it clicked and screeched in place of human screaming. Though he knew it wasn't possible, Cameron pretended each swing was connecting to his head, the smug red head with the wise mouth. He swung again, and this time it was the girl. And she begged. He swung until he felt its warm blood on his face and the clicking had stopped.

He stood, once again regaining control over his breathing, and walked away.

Her whole body shivered in the cold air. It was moving into winter. Snow couldn't be far behind them. Back home, she loved the snow. The world was quiet. She would stand in gardens and listen until the frostbite drove her inside. Back then, however, she had a warm bed waiting for her, and a coat. She buttoned one more button on her flannel, convinced it would guard against the cold. She didn't want to zip her jacket up, not yet. Each day is was one more subtle change to keep warm. And each morning there was a little more frost on the ground.

The nights were worse. Once again, the problem came from finding a place to sleep. The horses more or less gave them away whenever they stopped. Then again, that was assuming anyone was around. It had a been about a week since they had left Cameron in the woods, and there was no sign of anyone following them, though they were careful to avoid most of the main roads.

Wally chatted. There was no other word for it. There was nothing deep or emotional about it, and Artemis was glad. Every so often he simply rattled off facts or made attempts at playing I Spy. Mostly she just laughed and rolled her eyes.

"Remember that time I liked you, and we were getting along? I take it back. You're annoying again."

"Oh, come on. Don't be cliché."

"Then maybe talk about something other than the symptoms of hypothermia. That's not how people politely talk about the weather."

"Ok…Remember when we met?"

"And you dare to call me cliché."

"We got into a fist fight."

"That I won."

"And my mother defended you."

"Probably because I was the clear winner."

"'Wallace! You do not hit friends.'" He was mocking his mother's soft yet stern voice. He continued the story, going into something about how he spent a week hating her making them be friends, but she stopped listening. Distracted. The large plume of smoke in the distance caught her attention. The dark clouds were stark against the grey-white sky. Wally brought his horse to stop next to hers.

"Do we agree that it's probably a trap?"

Artemis was silent for a minute, weighing her options. It wasn't too far off, they could easily reach it within a day. It's what waited for them that concerned her. Her horse, which she had named Clyde, took a few steps in its direction.

"What's the worst that could happen?"

"It's you dad, and he kills us."

"I'm too valuable."

"Then he kills me."

"You're too valuable to me." He half laughed behind her. "Did I slip back into clichés?" She turned to look at him with a smile. "Seriously. The worst that happens is that we die. I'm already heading straight for my death-"

"Don't remind me."

"-so what difference does it make when it happens?"

"You could at least construct I scenario where I live. Like just because you die, doesn't mean I have to." Artemis had already started trotting towards the smoke. He raised his voice despite his laugh. "Just because we kissed and sometimes I like to play with your hair does not mean I'm going to die for you!" She kept going forward.

It wasn't the smell of the smoke they encountered first. It was the decay.

It was the largest amount of Infected Artemis had ever seen. They laid piled on one another, mostly carcasses of the former dead. Among them, she heard a few rasps and moans, signs they were all but truly dead. The pile smoked. Most of the bodies on the bottom had already charred, and the ones stacked on top continued to burn. She covered her mouth with her sleeve, half from the smoke, half from the smell.

"Costco," Wally read the word off the building as if that explained the Infected burning before them.

"Somebody's got to be around here then." A branch broke somewhere behind them. She turned, and found herself, once again, looking down the barrel of a gun. Slowly, in an all too familiar way, they raised their hands. "You have got to be fucking kidding me."

The inside of the building was more or less a giant warehouse repurposed into a small village. She couldn't see everything, but it was easy to see it was all impeccably organized. It was, actually,

"Incredible," Wally breathed.

It reminded her of Blüdhaven. Of Dick and Barbara. The whole place was lit up like Christmas. Most of the ceiling lights were destroyed, but in their place were thousands of string lights going every which way in every color. Lanterns hung over tables and marked pathways throughout the building. Tents and shelves lined every wall. Ramps and stairs lead to high shelves with cots, sitting areas, storage. In the center, were stands. People selling food, weapons, aide. It was an entire civilization within four tiny walls.

They were lead away from center and the excitement, down hallways lined with twinkling lights to a final room. What was once an office was now a suite covered in plants and curios. The woman, clearly in charge, sat behind a worn desk with gun in hand. When her eyes landed on Artemis and Wally, she visible relaxed.

"This is what I had to get imposing for?" She pointed with the rifle, and they both flinched. "Children?"

Artemis was still in awe from her surroundings. "Sorry we're not raiders."

"Let them go." She put the gun on the table behind her and rubbed her temples. The men guarding them left, and Wally scooted closer to Artemis. She waved to the seats in front of them. "Sit."

The woman retrieved three glasses from behind the desk along with a large bottle. The label was faded, but the smell was unmistakable. Whiskey. She placed one in front of Artemis, and waited. Her look was expectant.

"Oh, um. Artemis."

"There we go," she said, placing a second one in front of Wally, who introduced himself immediately. She smiled, and sat down, throwing her boots up on to the desk. "Ivy." Artemis couldn't tell if she was referring to the plant-life in the room or herself, but she nodded. Her glass was untouched.

"So," Ivy took a sip, "Welcome to Denver." Wally nodded as he looked around, equally impressed as Artemis was. "Either of you want to tell me why you're here? On horseback nonetheless?"

"Headed West. Mom's in Star City. We haven't seen her in a few years." Artemis tried her best to look sad. It wasn't technically a lie. She hadn't seen her mom in her eighteen years. Or ever.

Her face fell to mirror Artemis's. "Oh, you poor dears!" She put her feet down to lean on the desk and get a closer look at them. "You two must think I'm a fucking idiot." Artemis caught Wally's eye in her peripherals. "Let's not even get started on the fact that there's no way you are related by blood. We're three weeks out of winter, and you two are going into the mountains with little more than a flannel. You have no shelter, no supplies. There's no way this trip was planned. So why not tell me what's really going on."

She was back to sitting with her legs up. Sipping. Waiting. Artemis turned to Wally, who was also looking at her. No. Not looking. Watching. She felt an all too familiar wave of exhaustion wash over her.

"Fine. Short version? We're going to LA."

"And the long version?"

Artemis felt her eyes roll. "We are going to Los Angeles." She counted each word on a finger. "Bitch."

Ivy looked as though she was going to choke on her whiskey, but she wasn't mad. In fact, she laughed. "Funny." She poured herself two fingers more, noting Wally and Artemis's untouched glasses. "Haven't heard that one in almost twenty years."

Wally swirled his whiskey in his glass but didn't drink. Artemis regarded own glass. "We're running." That piqued Ivy's interest. "We were captured. Held against our will." Wally raised his sling as evidence. "He wanted to sell me off." She left out as many small details as possible. Again, she wasn't lying. The less Ivy knew the better. The longer the hospitality lasted.

The amusement was gone from Ivy's eyes. This time when she sat up, she stayed. "The world's ending. People can barely survive. And some assholes out there trafficking."

Artemis looked down into her glass again, thinking. She met Ivy's green eyes, and took a drink, finishing the whiskey in one go. She flipped the glass over on to the table, but didn't speak. Ivy smiled.

"So over here's the market, you probably gathered by the stalls. We're something between a trading outpost and fully fledged city. Ivy was taking them through the city, whiskey still in hand.

"The city of Costco?" asked Wally. Artemis rolled her eyes, ignoring his smirk.

"No, sweetie, this is the entirety of Denver." Ivy looked back over her shoulder, and grinned. "Bigger than it looks. Most of the beds are currently empty. We trade items for bed space. Items for items. Outside we have a garden, which is where you'd normally find me. Barley, cantaloupe, corn." A sip. "I was a botanist. A doctor, actually. I like to remind people."

"It's amazing." Artemis had always been very impressed with where they'd grown up. The building wasn't small, but it was by no means large. There were maybe twenty people living there, half of which were Wally's relatives. At least it seemed that way. She never quite understood where all the power came from, for the rooms, the alarms, the medical equipment. There were generators, sure, but they seemed unlimited.

Then she thought back to Dick's words: "He likes the exercise." She laughed, silently, but she laughed.

"We're going to put you…" Ivy had stopped in a crossroads of shelves. "Down Breckenridge." She continued down an aisle, and Artemis looked down to see letters sprawled in spray paint. After a few feet Ivy stopped once more. "Third shelf. We have a double or two singles available. Tonight's on the house. Diner and market's always open. Any questions?"

"Why burn them? What does it do that a headshot doesn't?"

"The infection is fungal." She looked around at the plants that were scattered throughout the building, worried they might one day betray her. "It attacks the spinal cord and the brain."

"Cordyceps." Wally supplied the answer as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. Ivy nodded.

"Times one thousand." Though Ivy had never seemed drunk, she sobered. "I wrote my graduate thesis on Cordyceps. Ophiocordyceps sinensis. Shot to the head stops a creep for sure, but the spores can still reproduce, pollinate." She sighed and tears watered behind her eyes, but she quickly hid them. She turned to leave. "If I may be so bold, you might want the double. It gets pretty cold at night."

The cot was small, but there was room enough for the two of them. It took ten minutes for them to find a comfortable position. Denver was ambient, but it wasn't loud - the low purr of electricity mixed with the hum of voices near and far. The shelves were dark, sheets and curtains separating each area from one another and adding an extra layer of cozy dark. Artemis turned and put her head into Wally's arm.

"Stop being a squish."

"I'm not a squish."

"You're squishing pretty hard into my arm." He adjusted so that he was on his side.

"Denver's nice." She was talking to his chest, and her fingers played with the buttons of his flannel. His grazed the bottom of her chin, pushing her up towards him. When he kissed her, it was brief and soft. He pulled away. Her eyelids shuttered open though she wasn't sure when they'd closed. "Denver's nice."

"You already said that." His left hand gently cupped her head. Pain momentarily registered on his face, but he hid it well. She smiled and let him bring her closer to his chest. "Go to sleep."

Sleep came quickly.

The wake-up call came even more quickly.

Ivy was banging on the bottom shelf and saying something about "past noon" and "trouble."

"It's nothing huge," she said after the scrambled down, "but I need the muscle."

"Who else would you call but the malnourished cripple?" Wally yawned.

"The name of the game is strength in numbers, children." Ivy walked them to the back and up a set of stairs. And another, and a ladder. "I have a pain in my ass I need to scare off. Just look imposing."

They gathered on the roof. Ivy slung her gun casually over her shoulder. Below a familiar white van was parked near the pile of burning corpses. Lawrence relaxed against the front door with his arms crossed. Bile rose in the back of her throat. The four of them, along with every other member of Ivy's community, waited.

"Lawrence," Ivy greeted.

"Ivy."

"You know you're not exactly welcome here anymore.'

"Just thought I might try doing some trading." They were too high up to really see him, but Artemis felt his gaze land on her.

"That's him."

"I'm sorry, but do you know this piece of shit?"

He was the picture of nonchalance, not a care in the world. Artemis felt Wally's fingers lace within hers. It wasn't fair. They were the victims in all of this. She never asked to be the cure. He never asked to be the one to take her out here. Then again, when had they played by the rules? They left Cameron for dead, stole supplies, horses. Maybe it was fair.

"How did he find us?" It was barely a whisper, but it seemed like everyone could hear.

"You didn't think you could run away that easily did you?"

"I should have known." Ivy pulled the bolt on the rifle and took aim. "If it sounds like an asshole, it's probably Lawrence Crock." Artemis winced. "I've got a trade for you, Lawrence. You give me that car, and I'll make sure your death is quick." She whistled. Lawrence didn't flinch as every weapon was pointed towards him. "It's your call, kid."

Artemis felt Wally's grip tighten, and that's how she knew she was shaking. She searched his gaze for an answer. Wally always had the answers, but this time he looked just as lost as she did. His eyes said the three words she feared most: I don't know.

She closed her eyes, and a shot rang out.

This chapter is brought to you by the first season of The Walking Dead. It was less an inspiration and more a great way to get into that emo zombie mood. Also another bottle of wine.

I loved writing the opener to this chapter. Does he live does he die? Who can never be sure. I needed to see Cam become a jerk, and I love the idea of it not being just cause it's Cam. A product of his environment thats not daddy issues. Poor miserable pup.

I also love Ivy. Best character in the story. Get her a spinoff. Six seasons and a movie.