"Noah...?" The words had barely left my lips before I was running towards the glass doors. I couldn't believe it, hadn't Joan just told me he hadn't made it? I got to the doors and pressed my hands against the glass; it was warm from the sun's kiss. He lifted his hands and placed them on the other side of the glass. They were stained red, and grime hid under his fingernails. His skin was dull, but what caught my breath in my throat were his eyes. They'd lost their glow and sat lifeless on both sides of his face. It was Noah, but it was nothing like him. Even if his heart was still beating, he was dead. I could feel the vibrations of his pounding against the glass, and even though I knew he wasn't the same anymore, I couldn't imagine him doing the things that Joan had described. My brain rejected those thoughts and refused to let them sit in my head. There was a deep growl, and more "people" began approaching the doors. The pounding intensified as the noise grew. The people around me began to turn to see where the noise was coming from, "Don't worry, Noah, I'm going to come back for you." I whispered. More police arrived and were setting up barriers and tape all over the parking lot. I found my way to Derek, "Did you learn anything about Noah? I asked around, but no one knew a damn thing." I didn't need to use words for him to understand what the look on my face said. He pulled me into a hug. It felt oddly cold in his arms, but I had never really felt at peace in other people's embrace. I didn't like to rely on someone else's touch to feel safe.My mom had noticed I'd arrived, "Where's my Noah?" I shook my head, "I found Joan, but um..." Derek looked at me, and I nodded, and he sat down beside my mom and held her close. He whispered into her ear, "What?! No, this can't, Noah, he-" She interrupted her own words with sobs. "Let's get her home." He said as he picked her up and carried her towards our car. The ride home was silent except for the muffled wails and sobs that came from the passenger's seat. I looked out the window, trying to ignore the sound because it reminded me of the breakfast table. As we drove through the city, people walked around like normal, and the shop's windows were still lit up with open signs. Every few miles, we'd pass a building with police littered outside like ants at a leftover picnic. A few people stood behind the barricades and took photos, but the majority couldn't be bothered. Did they not realize what all this meant? Were they not worried about the family members and friends that were hungry for their flesh. When we got inside, Derek carried mom into their bedroom, the door slammed shut behind them, and I heard the lock click. It was followed by shouts, "Why did you ever make me put my baby in that damn place?! This is all your fault!" She screamed the words at him, and I could picture the finger pointed as well. When life got hard, it was easier to blame anyone other than yourself, right? There was a crash, the sound of a vase making contact with the wall. "I don't want fucking Norah!" Those were the last words I caught between the sound of crashing and swearing from Derek. I took that as my cue to get the hell out of there. I reminded mom too much of dad that I had become a walking reminder of her trauma. I sat on the porch swing, but I could still hear shouts through the walls. I knew the nosy bitch, Mrs. Sanderson, would check in pretty soon. I sat on the swing and rocked back and forth. I found myself lost in thought, which was interrupted by the sounds of screams. This time it was from down the street. I looked a few houses down and saw a little girl stumbling over a deflated bouncy house. Joan, Noah's nurse, was stumbling towards her. Without thinking, I rushed down the stairs and across the street towards the two of them. "Joan! What are you doing?" I shouted at her, she turned to look at me, and her eyes were dull and lifeless. The scratch on her arm was now glowing a dark red. She reached out and tried to grab at me, her teeth snapping. I pushed her away, and she stumbled over the folds of the bouncy house but regained her balance and returned to creeping towards me. I knew that if I let her get close, she'd do the same to me as what happened at the hospital. I looked for anything I could find to stop her, and I noticed a baseball bat in the grass, abandoned after an afternoon's game. The little girl made a whimpering cry, and Joan turned back towards her. I made a run for the bat, and just as Joan reached for the girl, I hit right in the back. It made a painful thud, and Joan stumbled but kept her balance. So, I hit her again and again. I kept hitting her until she was knocked to the ground, unable to get back up. Even then, I just kept hitting her. I was so angry that I completely lost control. Everything else around me faded away. I'm not sure how long I was like this, but I was snapped back to reality by the sound of clapping. I looked up to see a man in a military uniform. He stood in front of soldiers holding guns and green trucks. Half the street had gathered outside, and I hadn't noticed. He stepped forward and dropped his cigarette into the grass, crumbling it underneath his boot, before reaching his hand forward for me to grab. I ignored it and stumbled onto my feet. My hands, which were covered, in blood, left stains of red handprints. Everyone's face was covered, in a layer of disgust and shock, except the General's, whose lips were still pulled into a slight grin. I hated how at peace he looked with what I had just done. "So how'd this one turn?" He asked, kneeling by Joan's mangled body. He was looking over her arms and legs as if her head wasn't smashed in a few inches away. Some of the others that had gathered around were turning away so they wouldn't faint and covering their mouths so they wouldn't let anything out. "I'm not sure." I finally said my voice was hoarse, and I wasn't sure I was even the one who'd said that. "She wasn't sick like the rest.", I added. "Ahh, I found it.", the General said, moving Joan's sleeve up to reveal the long scratch she'd shown me earlier, but now it still glowed but was now beginning to fade. "She's had that scratch since hours ago, but nothing happened. No cold or coma, nothing.", I said. "That was only the first wave. ", he turned to address the whole crowd, "Things around here are going to change, and from now on, you're reporting to me. We avoid the dead at all costs, that includes scratches and bites unless you want to end up like this little lady." He put his boot on one my Joan's legs. I didn't like him, but I knew he was right. Things had changed, and we needed to change with them if we wanted to make it in this world. The sound of a gunshot interrupted his speech, and I knew where it was coming from instantly. I made eye contact with Derek, who had joined us at some point, and we both turned and began running back towards the house. Derek slammed the door open so hard it left a doorknob-shaped dent in the wall. "Now what the hell is going on here?!" I heard the General shout from behind us. When we got to my parent's room, the door was locked. Derek slammed into it, and it flew open, revealing my mom lying in a puddle of her blood. She was shot right through the heart. "No, no, no, Eve!" Derek screamed as he fell right beside her and pulled her into his arms. "Sir, we are going to need to get rid of this body before she turns.", the General reached down and put a hand on his shoulder. "Stay away from me! You're not going to lay a hand on her!", as he was shouting at the men to stand back, my mom began to move. I knew what was about to happen, but before I could react she was taking a bite out of Derek's neck. "Derek!" I screamed. I tried to get to him but was pulled back by one of the men. As I was pulled from the room, I saw them trying to get my mom down, and in her eyes was the same lifeless look.