Final Hours

"This is Captain Steve Shane of the United States Army. If you can safely travel, come to 44th and Danny St. Our camp is- Reaching out, you yank the cord of the radio from the extension cord that leads to the generator in the basement.

You glare down at the dead Infected at your feet, then reached up to wipe the trickle of cum from the corner of your lips.

Shit. You think to yourself. No source of the cure. You a deep breath while you gathers your thoughts, then lets it out slowly, "We've got to go." You state.

"But dad!" Brittany begins to protest.

"No buts," You say more angrily than you had intended, "Pack only what you need, then we're leaving. You've got five minutes."

"Weren't you listening to the radio?" Brittany tries again, "They'll be looking for us in a couple of days, we only have to hold out until then."

You clinches your fist, fighting back your anger. Your voice is slow and measured as you speak, "Days." You pause, your angry eyes locked on hers, "And I've only got a few hours before I'm one of those things."

"Do you want to be locked in this house with me when I turn?" You point towards the radio where its sitting on the floor, "Or do we make our way to that camp. If we get there soon enough, maybe they can help me. If not," Your voice trails off for a few seconds, tears well up in Brittany's eyes as she waits for you to finish, "Then at least I know you're safe." You finish softly.

"Ok," The defeat is heavy in her voice, "You win."

Amazing. You think humorlessly, After nineteen years, now she starts to listen to me.