Every day she got closer and closer to the undead woman. One step by one step. This time, she was so near she could even hear the sound of its teeth wrenching flesh away from bone.

Now, finally now, she had her revenge. She lifted her bat up high, her face scrunched in a mix of focus, rage, and triumph. As the undead noticed her presence, she swung her bat down…

…just as the face of the undead came into her view. Her eyes widened in horror, a shriek tearing from her lips-

                                                                ~ ~ ~

They saw the first undead on the horizon two days ago coming from the north, the same direction as the backup team. Without speaking, they understood that no one was coming for them. The snowstorm showed no signs of letting up either, trapping them inside their little prison.

More and more undead were now scattered over the wide fields and headed in their direction. And the threat wasn’t just from outside. She had known for a while now that Matt was turning. How he had contracted the virus was a mystery – maybe he had been ambushed by the undead during his mission to get firewood. But it did not matter. The signs were getting obvious, yet she had not the heart to kill her savior and one and only companion out here.

But now with him lying on the bed, his breathing shallow and his skin ghastly pale, she knew that there was no longer any choice. Sitting by his side, she watched his lips part, the dry skin cracking under his effort.

“It’s time, Lou.”

She looked down at the kitchen knife in her hand. Its shiny cold blade gleamed in the ray of sunlight that filtered through the window. Soon, it would be covered in blood… black blood. Matt’s blood. Her eyes squeezed shut. She couldn’t do this again.

“I… can’t.” Her body shook, the words coming out as a strangled cry.

“Hey.” Matt’s breath came out in a raspy sigh. A trembling finger touched her hand, bringing her attention to his face. “Think of it this way. I have nothing more to live for.”

She bit her bottom lip, shaking her head to dispute him even though she knew he was right. Maybe she was just selfish in her need of a companion but she just could not take the life of another like this again.

His lips cracking into a smile, his eyes grew glassy. “I just want to see my girl again. As a human, not an undead. Please, Lou. Do me this one favor.”

She looked at him through a veil of tears and she saw the face of a contented man longing to be released from his fleshy prison. Cupping a hand to her mouth to prevent her sobs, she understood she was only preventing him from being happy in his last moments. No matter how much she hated it, this was what’s right.

With a reluctant nod, she gripped the knife handle tightly and held it high above his chest. Matt let out a relieved sigh, his hands folded on his waist as he waited for the end. She held back her tears and took in a deep breath.

“Matt… thank you for everything,” she choked out as his gaze met hers in understanding.

She closed her eyes and swallowed. “I’m sorry.”

With all her might, she brought the knife down and stabbed him right in the heart. His chest heaved one last time, a breath expelled… and then he went still. She placed two fingers to his jugular. No pulse. Her right hand reached for the handgun on her side, her eyes still on him. The feel of the cold metal in her hand calming her, she trained the gun on him and waited to see if he awakened.

The seconds ticked by in palpable tension but Matt did not move. She breathed a sigh of relief and placed the gun back on the drawer. Turning back to look at him, she gently brushed his cheek with her fingers. They had been mere strangers a week ago yet she had grown so fond of him over time. Tears rolled down her cheek as she leaned down and pressed a kiss to his forehead. “Goodbye, Matt.”

She trailed her hands down to the knife in his chest. Her right hand curled around the handle and pulled but it refused to budge, having lodged too deep. She adjusted her position and placed her left hand on his chest, around the knife. Pushing down with the left hand, she yanked on the knife again and this time, it came out cleanly, drops of black blood on its edge.

But as the tip exited from the flesh, it slipped a little and cut her finger. She hissed in pain, quickly retracting her hand and bringing it to her lips so she could suck-

She inhaled sharply.

Black blood oozed out from the cut. Black.

Her hand trembled as she clasped her wrist, her eyes glued to the dark color of the liquid staining her pale skin. It couldn’t be. How was this even possible?? The only other time she had been injured was…

Her breath hitched in realization. She fingered the small plaster over the cut she had gotten from a week back. With shaking fingers, she removed it slowly to reveal raw swollen skin. She let out an unsteady breath as her heart beat furiously against her ribcage. That cut… had not been from the barbed fence...

She turned her head towards Matt’s prone body. If it was what she feared…

She slowly lifted his arms. The plasters from where she had scratched him were still intact. Summoning her courage, she swallowed hard and peeled off a tiny section of one of the plasters. His wound had festered, just like hers.

Closing her eyes, she placed his arm down gently and buried her face in the bed. After all this time, she had been infected – a slow turner. And if that wasn’t enough, it was her that had infected Matt. She killed him. Her mouth opened wide in a silent scream as sobs wrecked her body. How many times had someone died because of her?? Her fingers dug into her shirt as she thumped her chest repeatedly. When would it ever end??

No. Her eyes widened. She would make it end now. Her mind made up, she lunged for the revolver on the dresser and pressed the barrel flush to her head. The metal was cold to the touch, merciless and unforgiving. Her bottom lip trembled as her finger curled around the trigger. She could do this. One shot and this meaningless life would be over…

You give life a meaning.

The words echoed so suddenly that she spun around to look at Matt. His eyes were still closed but she could have sworn he had uttered it. She could even see it in her mind’s eye – Matt regarding her with a frown, telling her that it wasn’t her fault… that she still had something to do here.

She lowered the gun shakily and closed her eyes. This was not what he would have wanted her to do. What would he have done in her place?

Her mind calm, it only took a few moments of pondering before she found her answer. Her eyes flew open, filled not with tears but firm resolution. She leant down and whispered her last words to Matt before running out of the room, ready to put her plan to action.

Ten minutes later, she stood in the middle of the kitchen with her revolver by her side. The growls from outside were growing louder, as did the shaking of the cabin resulting from the swarm of undead who launched themselves at its walls. She tapped the revolver on her thighs in time with the loud thumps, waiting for that precise moment to act.

Her eyes on the door, she watched it give way slowly under pressure. The hinges creaked and whined until finally, it burst open. A group of undead spilled into the small cabin, hungry for her blood. A smirk grew on her lips as she aimed the revolver at the large barrel of gunpowder at her feet.

“I’ve waited long enough, you pieces of shit. Now come and get me,” she snarled.

They did not need any further invitation as they launched themselves at her. She estimated at least twenty of them were in the cabin now. Just nice. Her heartbeat slowed down, the growls of the undead muffled in her ear. She clicked the trigger, the shot ringing in her ear as sparks of fire engulfed her vision. The last thing she saw was the face of the undead woman in her dreams… and she smiled.

300 undead. Open up a bottle, Matt. I’m coming.