Screams race through the air after her as Elizabeth Marie Baker runs as hard as she can through the night streets. She hasn’t looked behind her in at least half a mile and has no intentions of doing so now. She’s knows they’re there. She knows they’re closer than she’d like. She doesn’t need to see it with her own eyes. So, she runs as she has each and every time she’s had to scout.

This time was different. The monsters were more prepared. Showed signs of adapting. They had even begun to run. A first that Liz has seen.

She didn’t let them stop her from completing her mission. Panic had filled her completely. The way they rushed out of empty buildings and swarmed on her. She was quite certain that it even looked premeditated. She did the only thing she could do. She ran. She ran past the creatures with her grip firmly on her pistol. A weapon that would do little good against the swarm of undead corpses that rushed toward her. No, the gun had to serve another purpose.

Elizabeth Baker ran hard past the demons and kept pushing until she came to the outskirts of the city. There was a time when just outside the city was green. Peaceful. There were parks and a river. Trees. Lots of trees.

But Liz only saw barren land. Red soil, scorched and incapable of sustaining growth. There, she stopped running. She fell to her knees. Behind her, she heard the screams. They were getting closer. If she hadn’t needed to report back, she may have stayed there and let her end come. But she couldn’t.

She forced herself up and began to run again. This time, she wouldn’t look back.

So she runs while hearing the awful screeches behind her. They don’t sound like something that should ever come from a human body. The sounds are too loud. Too high-pitched. Too inhuman.

Up in front of her, she sees a figure walk into the street. Immediately she gasps. Her hand hardens on her pistol. Then, she sees the burning red tip of a cigar.

Her gasp turns into a sigh as she comes closer to the prematurely aged Grant Navis. He’s a hardened man with dark hair that’s streaked grey. Scars cover much of him, but none quite so notable as the scar over his left eye that splits his eyebrow. It’s a deep scar, and he’s never told her the story of how he got it, nor how he was lucky enough to not lose the eye.

"Grant!"

"How many of those bastards are behind you?" His voice is raspy, yet calm, confident. Powerful.

She shakes her head as she gasps for air. "I dunno. At least twelve." She forces herself to stand upright and finally turns. "They’re getting smarter, too. Using ambush tactics."

"Yeah. They’re learning alright." Grant checks his shotgun and his pistol. "You’re not gonna make it back to the compound tonight." He adds a couple of rounds to his shotgun. "Need to find a secure place to hole up."

"I’ve gotta. I’ve gotta get back."

Grant screws up his face. "You listen here, Ms. Baker. I’m giving you an order. You’re not to try and make it all the way back. You’ll never make it."

He holsters the handgun then pulls a two-way radio. "Take this. When you find a safe place, you radio me. Or, God forbid, you run into a problem, you call for me. Understand?"

She nods and takes the walkie-talkie.

"Go on, I’m not gonna be able to hold’em all back. Get running."

"You should come, too."

"And miss the dance with these sons-a-bitches? No chance, doll. ’Sides, someone’s gotta slow’em down. Now, get to running."

She doesn’t try to question more. She simply starts to run once again for a short distance, then pauses. She watches as Grant steadies his shotgun on the creatures that are quickly approaching. The sight of the demons has always frightened her. So human, yet so monstrous with clumps of flesh and muscle ripped away. Their eyes. Their eyes are always yellow.

She can’t watch what she believes will come next. Grant, as grizzled as he is, hasn’t been quite the same since Aaron, a fellow scout, died while the two of them were on a mission. That was only a couple of weeks ago, but since, Grant hasn’t taken a single night off.

No, she hears his taunting screams and several gunshots, but she refuses to look back again. She turns a corner and looks briefly at the buildings, which all look broken down and in shambles. Doors that happen to still be connected to their frames are only just. She keeps running.

"I can make it. I know I can." She quits looking for a suitable shelter for the night and begins to run hard. "Just like cross country. No problem." Her hand maintains a firm grip on the gun.

She focuses herself on pacing one foot in front of the other across the broken black blacktop street. Occasional barrels that have been set ablaze give her some semblance of light. The barrels are used by trackers. They set fire to them as precautionary measures. They serve multiple purposes. One, so that the trackers know in no uncertain way that they’re on the right path. Two, they offer a source of warmth and light that, if nothing else, offers an ounce of comfort. Three, in an emergency, the fire can be used as a weapon.

Right now, the comfort is the most important element for Liz. For the slightest of moments, she slows her pace as she passes a barrel.

The flicker of light. The feel of warmth flickering so close by. It’s tempting to stop, even if only for a moment. She shakes the feeling off and keeps moving.

Suddenly, she hears a clang nearby. The sound you might hear when someone stumbles over a can in the street.

She grips her gun tighter and keeps running. Her eyes stay alert, looking for any sign of movement at all. She tells herself to keep moving. Mentally thinks about each foot touching the ground and pushing off again as she runs.

As she comes up to the next intersection, her heart races. She can’t hear anything, which is promising, but promising isn’t a guarantee. Not anymore. She breathes deep and pushes forward hoping, praying, for the best.

Nothing.

She breathes a sigh and keeps pushing forward. Still, she refuses to stop even to rest. By her best guesstimation, she’s about halfway back. Another forty-five minutes, hour tops, she should be back.

She hunkers down, lowers her head and pushes on. She breathes deep and slowly; mechanically. Two steps in, two steps hold, two steps out. Without falt, she keeps the breathing steady. Too many years as a runner instilled in her long ago the need for consistency. It’s the thing she loved about running when she was younger. Now, she’s quite certain that it’s also the thing that’s kept her alive. Two by two by two without falt.

Hissing sounds echo through the night air, causing her to gasp, to falter. Liz takes a moment to glance around, but she sees nothing. Nothing but the barrels.

But still, she knows the sound. It isn’t a natural sounding hiss, much like their screams. Nothing about the infernal creatures are natural. She picks up her pace and her breathing. Running harder now. Running faster.

That’s when she hears the scream, followed by another, and another, and another, and another. Suddenly, she’s hearing screams all around her. In front, behind, to her sides. Her gut wrenches itself.

Elizabeth swallows deep and pushes on. She can’t stop. Not now.

One of the abominations lunges out at her, its putrid fingers just grazing over her arm. She spins instinctively, crashing the handle of the gun into the creature’s skull. It stutter steps, then falls. Liz instantly sets herself and runs hard.

She can’t run at a marathon pace anymore. She doesn’t have that luxury. Not now. She pushes hard, feels her breathing become more and more erratic.

Several of the fiends rush out from the next block in front of her, forcing Liz to finally stop and assess her environment.

"Elizabeth Marie Baker, where in God’s name are you?"

Her receiver. She’d forgotten about it.

In a very calculatedly calm and slow movement, she reaches down and grabs her walkie-talkie. She unclips it from her belt and carefully raises it to her mouth.

"I’m in a spot of trouble. Glad to hear you’re still breathing."

"Yeah, well, it’ll take more’n a few of these Godless creatures to take me out."

"Good to know."

"What’s your position? What sort of trouble?"

"On the path to the warehouse district. Probably a mile and a half out, give or take. Surrounded by the nasties."

"Goddamnit, I said to get somewhere safe!"

"Yeah, well, you know me. Thought I could make it."

"I’m about ten minutes back. Do whatever the hell you can to stay alive ‘till then."

"Will do, Grant."

Slowly she lowers the portable and clips it back on her belt. Her eyes catch the glowing yellows. Their numbers seem to be growing, crawling out of the darkness all around her. Yet so far, they’re not attacking.

Slowly, she turns. Their heads cock to a side as they watch her. Her heart races. One of them diverts its eyes to her chest, as if it can hear the sudden increase in her pulse. Can it? She wonders.

They’re observing her and it makes her nauseous and frightened all at the same time. She observes back.

These creatures. Some of them are nearly unrecognizable as humans at all. The flesh that barely clings to their frames discolored shades of yellow, blue and black. But some of them. Some of them still look entirely human. Their faces still have a pinkish hue to them. The only thing that separates them from being human is their eyes.

It’s a disturbing thought. She represses a shudder.

There is another difference between these things and her. They seem to her to be more animalistic. They run on instinct more than anything else. A vicious, blood thirsty instinct.

One of the damned steps forward and the others move slightly back. It stands an easy 6’3. This is heightened by the fact that it stands more erect than the others. It has but one eye; the place where the other should be is instead a hollow, black socket. The lack of a nose also stands out, but not quite as much as the rotting flesh of the creature’s cheeks, allowing Liz to see into its mouth. In many places, Elizabeth can see the fiend’s bones protruding through. Some broken, some simply revealed. Its skin is almost entirely black and blue.

The beast narrows its eye and takes another step forward. Its movement feels thought out, which goes against everything she’s ever seen from these creatures.

She gulps. Her hand stays firm on the gun. Trembling slightly. She knows what will happen the second she uses the gun.

Her eyes dart around looking for any kind of exit she might be able to use. The flicker of the fire in the barrel catches her attention. She looks on the ground beside it. There should be wooden objects thick enough to bash a skull and long enough to keep the demons out of reach.

There. A 2×4 rests comfortably nearby. The end is wrapped in cloth and probably doused in gas.

The abominations begin to hiss and make clicking sounds. The latter are new. Elizabeth has never heard the clicking sounds before. The others respond with more clicking sounds, and the thing in front of her pauses and looks left and right at the others.

It bares its broken teeth and starts to rush at her.

She quickly raises her gun, takes sight and fires. A bullet splits the creature’s skull and it collapses in front of her, but like an automaton, it keeps pulling forward, crawling on the ground as if its last purpose were imprinted through the creature’s being.

Without waiting, she quickly picks up the 2×4 and dips it into the fire.

The demons that were rushing in on her quickly leap backward. Their yellow eyes fixate on the fire. The continue their hissing noises.

The big one still crawls forward in its same direction, no longer a concern for her. Elizabeth sticks the pistol in her pants to better grip the fiery object now in her hands. The fiends slowly inch backward. Their eyes fix on the fire at the end of Liz’s two-by-four.

Slowly, she steps with one foot in front of the other moving carefully and steadily toward the path beyond the demons. She focuses on at least appearing to be calm, tries to steady her hands.

A creature suddenly leaps rabidly onto her back.

Elizabeth screams and starts to spin, but as soon as the demon wraps its arms around her throat, she feels an unexpected wrench backward. The thing’s arm come unbound from her.

She collapses to the ground, eyes not focusing on anything.

"Goddamnit, woman, I said on your feet!"

Elizabeth slowly turns her head upward to see Grant Navis standing over her. He reaches down and hoists her to her feet. He pats her down looking for any rips in her clothing, any signs of broken skin.

"Were you bitten?"

She stares at him.

"Answer the question, were you bitten?"

Her focus returns. He vision less blurred.

"Grant?" She feels at her own neck and shoulders. "No. No, it didn’t bite me."

He looks into her eyes for just a moment.

"We gotta go, now."

Several of the creatures swarm on them.

"Stay behind me." Grant pulls out an axe and his shotgun."

"An axe?"

Grant grins. "Yeah, found it in the hardware store when I was buyin’ time for your ass earlier. It’s not pretty, but it works."

The creatures leap toward him as he unloads a shell that sends the closest fiend hurtling backward. He swings the the axe toward the the next closest for a blow that digs into the creature’s head. He kicks it down as he pulls out the axe and spins toward the next creature.

Elizabeth picks up her beam and tries to keep up with Grant as he clears a way in front. They seem less distracted of the fire than before. Less concerned, but it still causes more hesitation than normal.

"You’re right, these aren’t your normal, run-of-the-mill nasties."

"I told you."

He plows through the last two demons in front of them. A shotgun blast to the head of one, a boot to the face of the other, followed by a blunt skull crushing.

He grabs the two-by-four from her. "That’s not exactly the reason we keep the fires and wood everywhere."

"But I thought."

Grant sets the two bodies on fire. "We’re not gonna be able to get the others."

"We. We burn them?" The smell of rotten, burning flesh causes Elizabeth to go green. She tries to not think about it. Tries not to gag too much.

Grant laughs. "Of course we burn the bodies. They eat their own. Less to eat means less to fight. At least, that’s the standing theory." He looks up toward the creature Elizabeth shot in the head. "Nice shot. Ever think of switching from scout to hunter?"

"I got lucky. That’s all. Should of done as you said in the first place and found a secure place to hole up for the night."

"That’s the sonuvabitch bastard that killed Aaron. Never had a chance to return the favor before." Grant glances back toward the scene. "Come on, we’re not outta danger yet.

Grant hands her the shotgun. His shotgun. Her eyes look down at the black object now in her hands. It is lighter than she imagined it to be, which she concedes as silly that somehow Grant Navis’ gun would magically weigh more than another of the same size. The, smooth, still polished metal is cold in her hands.

They’re told often to make sure they keep their weapons clean. For bladed objects, it is out of fear of infection. For guns, however, it’s a matter of survival. A gun that isn’t clean can jam, which does nothing to keep a soul alive. But still, the sheer immaculate sheen of his shotgun shows a level of care and precision she hadn’t thought about in terms of who she imagined Grant Navis to be.

Grant takes hold of her arm firmly yet softly. "We really have to go." His eyes fixate beyond her. To something that is still too far away to see.

Perhaps Grant isn’t as reckless as she thought him to be. She’s only ever seen him gallavanting toward the monsters in the night. A smirk painted on his face as he would alternate between cracking a demon across the skull with his gun and firing on another. In the heart of it all. Fear. Concern. Personal well being. Those were never concepts she associated with the hunters. And especially Grant Navis.

The two of them begin to run. Not hard. Grant tells her it’s important to find a steady pace that’s still somewhat relaxed. He says it is one thing to know you can make it back at a certain pace, but something else entirely if, during that pacing, you encounter "inhumans" and have to suddenly rely on energy that you wouldn’t necessarily have at a harder pace.

"The soulless may be able to run, but that means nothing to us as long as their not in sight. Better to know we can outrun them when they’re around than to find ourselves being outpaced because we’ve simply got nothing left."

Elizabeth Baker doesn’t respond. She simply takes in his words. Files them under important things to know for now own and matches Grant’s pace, which is closer to a power-walk than a run.

She watches as his eyes pierce through the darkness into the windows of buildings and down the black alleys they pass. She wonders if perhaps he is able to see through the impenetrable darkness. Maybe that is the thing that has kept him alive as a hunter all this time. Maybe he’s unique. Special.

They turn, following the barrels around the bend. Among the scouts, the bend is known as Breathe Again Bend because it’s the home stretch. They’re not far now. A straight shot the warehouse district. No scout has ever seen an inhuman in this area. Of course, no scout has been out quite so late either. They’ve always hunkered down. It’s only the hunters with their additional weapons and their experience that brave these hours, and even they usually choose a safehouse.

Liz wonders if the hunters have a different name for the bend, if they see things that the scouts simply don’t, can’t see.

Grant stops in front of her and raises his hand. He pulls out his pistol and checks the cartridge.

Elizabeth’s heart races. Did he see something? Are they about to be attacked again? She’s afraid to ask, because she’s afraid to know the answer.

"The barrels aren’t lit." Grant says through his rough voice. He stands tall. His eyes shift through the street. He walks with very calculated steps toward the drum. Slowly, he raises his gun hand over the barrel. "Still hot."

Grant turns quickly, his eyes looking for something. Anything. A sign that might tell him whether this was a simple freak occurrence or something else, something more malicious. He knows the answer, he’d just rather be wrong for once.

"We call this ‘The Devil’s Turn’ because you simply never know what’s gonna happen. It always looks clear enough. Sometimes it really is. But sometimes," Grant stops. His eyes lock on something that can barely be seen between two buildings. He raises his gun and the thing he’d seen suddenly screams and begins to race toward him.

He fires. Once. Twice. The demon’s legs flip forward as the headshot sends the creature’s torso back.

More screams echo. Grant squats down, keeping his feet firmly planted. He readies his grip on his axe. Shock, a sensation he’s not entirely used to, comes over him as Elizabeth fires a series of rounds with her own pistol just over his head. He turns to see an inhuman drop.

The one that he’d been eyeing from his squatted position still races toward him. Grant yells a deep yell that overpowers the scream of the demon as he swings his axe. The blow lands perfectly on the creature’s neck, cleaving the head clean from the body.

Elizabeth pushes grant down and takes aim with the shotgun. Grant covers his ears just as she fires.

He rises quickly and takes in the scene.

"There’re too many. Run hard. It’s our only chance."

She doesn’t wait to be told twice. She digs deep, still fatigued from her earlier running, but unwilling to let that stop her now. She runs. Grant, beside her all the way continues to look side to side.

The monsters swarm on them from all directions. Grant fires several rounds. Anything to keep the creatures behind them even a little.

They reach the outer perimeter of the warehouse district. A long line of spiraling barbed wire rests ten feet in front of a high stone wall that is topped with more barbed wire. In the middle, there’s a locked gate. Elizabeth reaches into her pockets, looking for the key.

Grant turns, pulls out a cigar. He uses a match to light the cigar then drops the match onto a gas covered spread in front of the barbed wire.

Fire rushes up.

"Goddamn!"

"We should be okay now. Let’s get the gate open."

Her hands, shaking, work on the lock until it finally comes loose. They quickly enter and lock the gate behind them. There, they have another gate to get through, but with far less pressure.

"Not bad, kid. Not bad at all."

Elizabeth smiles. "Thanks, old man."

Through the fire, they see the inhumans looking around, trying to find a way around the fire. The awareness causes a chill to go through Elizabeth.

"You’re right. They are getting smarter."

"Their brains are still human."

Grant raises his unscarred eyebrow and turns his head ever so slightly toward Elizabeth. "Still human. You think?"

"The brain. Not the thoughts. Not the memories. The brain that stops the bastards from falling over. It’s still a human brain. Capable of learning."

"But the God-forsaken bastards are still the walking dead. Whatever the hell else they are."

Elizabeth stares out at the creatures. Then, she looks down at the axe in Grant’s hand. She stares at the blood splatter across the blade.

"You need to clean your blade."

"And you’ve gotta report on what you saw."

"Or what I didn’t."

They start to walk into the compound. Lights quickly turn on, glaring down on them and their eyes.

Grant raises his arm to shield off some of the light.

"Take it easy. No inhumans here. Least that I’m aware of."

"Were either of you bitten?" The voice comes from in front of them. It’s a calm voice. Spoken with little concern.

"God no. Think I’d be the type to march into here if I was?"

"No, I wasn’t bitten, either."

"You’re coming in late. Why didn’t you shelter up?"

Elizabeth takes a breath to confess her fault.

"It was too hot out there. She couldn’t safely take shelter. Keeping in radio contact, I met up with her and offered assistance on getting back."

The bright whites turn off and Jacob Ashbury walks toward the two of them. He looks from one to the other. "Well, I’m glad we didn’t lose two more tonight." He turns more directly to Elizabeth. "Now, Ms. Baker, please tell me you have something good for us."

She shakes her head in a quick, yet small movement. "I’m sorry. The West route by way of St. Helen’s offers nothing. Everything’s barren."

Jacob sighs. "That’s unfortunate."

"Also, sir. It’s getting worse. They’re getting smarter, and we’re running out of hunters."

"Yes, Ms. Baker. It’s looking dire. That’s why I’d hoped you’d have something better for me."

"Well, I think I should start hunting."

Jacob stares at her for a moment. His eyes wide.

"Not exclusively, but we need all the hunters we can get out there right now."

"I’ll vouch for her. Hell, I’ll even help train. She did good out there tonight for not having any sort of official combat training. Good instincts. We can use that."

Jacob lowers his head for just a moment. "Okay." He turns upward toward Grant. "You get her ready. Just don’t get her killed. We’ve lost enough." He turns and walks away. His shoulders, which are normally taut, pulled back and proud are now slumped forward.

"So why’d you change your mind?"

"Why’d you cover for me?"

"’Cause if we’re gonna survive, we need more people like you out there."

"And I changed my mind because we need more people out there. If we’re going to survive."

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