The three of us had been traveling through the country for as long as we could. It was no small wonder that any of us were still alive. We had faced greyskins, bandits, murderers…this was the beginning of survival and people were nasty about it. No one trusted anyone else. Everyone held onto his or her possessions as if they were the only things that would keep a person alive. It was a struggle just to come across a canned good, much less shelter. Lucas had been somewhat of a good hunter but ammunition was hard to come by. He had once shot a deer only to have it stolen from him as he was bringing it to us. It seemed that ever since the outbreak, fate was dealing us blow after blow with no end in sight until we simply died. And then, with Hattie bitten and scratched as she was, there was only the two of us left.

“What are we going to do, Waverly? She’s my mother.” He bit at his fingernails incessantly, the occasional tear finding its way to the bottom of his cheeks before sliding off to his shirt.

“I know she’s your mother,” I said, but I didn’t know how to comfort him. I couldn’t tell him this, but I wanted to say that it affected me just as much. I loved Hattie more than my own mother. It was harder to see her suffer than it was to hear my father get ripped to pieces over the phone.

The worst part about it was knowing that she was going to die, and not being able to do anything about it. For a long while, she had just sat there and mumbled words that neither of us could understand, but for the last hour she had been asleep. Her breaths were shallow and the virus was quickly taking over her completely.

None of us had seen the news since the day we left their home when Charles died, so we didn’t know much more than we did the day it started. All we knew was what we had learned from others. One thing we knew was that the virus would kill within twenty-four hours, and Hattie was in her last hour.

I reached out and touched her forehead. She was burning hot. When she reached up and grabbed my arm, I nearly screamed because I thought she might have turned without us realizing it, but her touch was gentle.

“Waverly,” she said. “Lucas.”

Lucas jumped to the floor and was by her side in an instant. “What do you need, Mom?”

“Why are you two still here?” Her voice barely came out as a whisper.

“We’re scared,” I said. “We want to be with you.”

“It’s dangerous to be near me.”

“Not yet it isn’t,” I said, gripping her hand.