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This was something living? Something that breathes? Something with morals and a mind of its own? It sounded too good to be true, but there Aubrey was, seeing it with her very eyes. A boy around her age was running in the streets, trying to elude his deceased persuers. He was wearing black board shorts and a dirty blue t-shirt. He was weilding a baseball bat for close-range attacks and he had a bow and a quill of arrows strapped to his back.

 "COME ON!" He shouted. His voice was rough from either lack of water or overusing. He was drawing the attention of more zombies, drawing at least half a dozen to him. Aubrey mentally cursed him as she sprinted to grab her machete. "Bite me, I dare you, motherfuckers!"

The boy was breathless and tired. He was desparate. He knew he was going to die, so he thought that he might as well go with a bang. He swung his aluminum bat straight at one of the bastard's head, making his bow bump against his back. He struck it, sending the head right off its shoulders. He kept on swinging, making those awful cracking sounds as the spinal cords were severed. 

The only thing that was keeping him going at this point was pure adrenaline, but as the final corpse went down, so did his high. He was suddenly aware of how tired and hungry and thirsty he was. He hadn't slept in days, nor had he had anything to drink. He came down to a knee, vision fading in and out. The groaning of predators around him was distorted. His eyes rolled into the back of his head as he crashed down to the ground.

Three zombies were closing in on him, swaying as they got closer to him, gnarly teeth just aching to dine on his warm flesh. A woman with thin hair and a petite figure got close enough to touch him before her head was suddenly sliced off from behind, making the rest of her body go limp.

"Come on!" Aubrey called, moving away from the boy while stomping her foot on the ground. "Over here! Yeah, that's it!" 

The other two began to follow her voice. A man with a cheap business suit on and no right abdomine came closer and had the front of his head impaled with the machete. The other with a track suit on met the same fate. Aubrey was panting from her own adrenaline rush. She tossed her weapon aside and rested her hands on her knees, bending over and catching her breath. When she gained composure she sheathed her machete in her belt loop and hurried to the boy.

She came to her knees and turned the boy over so his back was on the ground and his head was cradled on her lap. She gently brushed his face clean of loose blacktop. He was handsome, she thought. He jaw was defined, his nose was not too flat nor too round, and his cheek bones were high and majestic. Aubrey suddenly felt flushed with this handsome boy in her lap. This was the first human she'd seen in months and she looked like a mess. Aubrey ran her fingers through his hair.

"It's all right now," she whispered. "I've got you."

. . .

By some miraculous force, Aubrey was able to lug the dead weight of the knocked-out boy all the way back to the roof. She also managed to carry up the forgotten baseball bat as well. She silently thanked her father's lessons from his carrer as a fireman. 

It started raining just after she had sealed the bottom of the door shut with the towel. Rain pounded on the shingles, providing contsant pitter-patter. She let her eyes adjust to the dark as she tucked the nameless boy into the sleeping bag and poured water into his mouth. He swallowed it in his comatose state, which meant his body was responsive- a good thing. Now all Aubrey had to do was wait until he woke up, but she had no idea when that would be.

So, she sat next to him, hugging her knees to her chest, and waited patiently for hours. She wondered if he would be nice. She wondered what he was like. She wondered if he would stay with her. Aubrey saw lightning crack from a small window that faced west. The booming sound of thunder soon followed. 

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