The former dominion of King Edward, the Time of Xir

"Run! Run!" Carol shouts to Tabitha as the ravenous mob of Herd closes in like a tidal wave. Unlike the animal cunning possessed by Bambi's pack, the Herd had been driven mindless by a mixture of blood lust and hatred. There would be no scaring them away. The Herd would never stop their rampage until they were dead, either from the virus or from their victims fighting back.

Tabitha grimaces in pain as the pair make a beeline toward the garage housing all the working vehicles belonging to the settlement, the settlement's remaining defenders trailing lamely behind them in an effort to escape the Herd. The sounds of fighting and dying get steadily closer to Carol and Tabitha, as the Herd steadily chews through the buffer of defenders standing in its way. Screams of agony are punctuated by bestial howls of triumph.

"Don't look back." Tabitha gasps painfully, her breath hitching, "We can't do anything to save them."

Carol bites her lips and hugs her baby tightly against her body, mentally blocking out the dying cries of her fellow humans. None of this should have happened. The Herd only came to this settlement because of her. At the end of the day, it really was all Carol's fault. And now innocent people were dying because of her and the baby.

But she could still do the right thing.

Surrender. Let the Herd take her and the baby, and everything would be resolved just like that. There would be no more senseless death, no more of this mindless carnage. After all, is the virus really so evil? Everyone who is born needs to die one day. The virus is merely part of this natural process. To oppose the virus is to oppose nature itself. Completely and utterly pointless.

Its not easy to do the right thing. Its fine to be scared. But the most important point is -

You want to do the right thing.

"I -" Carol mutters, her mind wandering, "I want to - "

- do the right thing

"Tabitha," Carol sadly murmurs, turning to her friend, "You go on without me, I need to -"

But before Carol can complete what she wanted to say, her head is snapped around by a hard slap dished out by Tabitha.

"Don't. Look. Back." Tabitha hisses, her voice labored, "Keep. Running."

The heat from the blow spreads across Carol's face, driving away the alien whispers resounding in her head. Carol swallows hard, focusing her eyes on the garage just ahead of them. That was close. Too close.

"I'm not going to let you win." Carol curses her unseen enemy, her grip on the baby tightening with renewed determination. The whispers don't return, but is instead replaced by a loud mechanical whirring that almost drowns out the animal growls of the Herd.

"You hear that?" Tabitha suddenly shouts and looks upward to the sky. Carol follows suit, grateful that this interruption is not another ploy by the virus.

Three helicopters break from the clouds and swoop downward, heading straight for the beleaguered settlement, navigation lights blinking in stark contrast with the night sky. As Carol squints at the unexpected sight, the helicopters roll open their passenger doors, each revealing several armed men in black tactical gear and wearing gas masks standing within. As the helicopters bank and begin a low fly by over the Herd, the passengers open fire without hesitation into the roiling mass, drawing cheers from the surviving defenders.

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"Reinforcements?" Carol asks, her legs pounding the ground on automatic by this point.

"Don't know." Tabitha pants, wiping the sweat from her face as she, "They look more professional than the militia here. At least this will buy us a bit more time."

The Herd begins to slow as they focus on the airborne interlopers, allowing the defenders to open up some distance between the two groups. The helicopters gain speed, performing a lazy weave, as the Herd bring up whatever guns they have in their possession. Wild shots emanate from the mass of Herd, many of which go wide and the few which connect doing little more than draw sparks from the helicopters. The black clad men in the choppers respond by liberally dropping grenades all over the Herd while passing overhead.

"Shit!" Carol shouts as a series of loud bang sends tremors through the ground. Tabitha grabs her by the arm, steadying Carol and pulling her along.

The grenades tear gaping holes in the ranks of the Herd, leaving behind torn and bloody corpses in their wake. But the Herd remains undaunted, their fury roused by this sudden burst of violence. The entire body charges forward as one, an organism made out of multiple individuals, bound to a single purpose. The small distance between the survivors and the invaders rapidly disappears and the Herd begins picking away at the stragglers again.

"They're catching up again." Carol observes with despair, the garage so close yet still too far away.

No response. Just the sounds of more screaming and dying.

"Tabitha?" Carol asks, fear gnawing in her gut.

Turn around.

"Shut up." Carol grinds out to that accursed whisper.

TURN AROUND.

Not a whisper this time, but a flat out command. Against her better sense, Carol complies, fearing the worst.

And the worst is indeed what has happened.

Tabitha kneels on the ground, fresh blood spreading all over her clothes. Her wound had opened thanks to the Herd's pursuit. As the young woman slumps weakly on to her side, the helicopters continue to buzz overhead, prosecuting their mission against the Herd, like jabbing at a lion with a toothpick. A brave but futile effort. The Infected march fearlessly onward, not in the least fazed by their losses. Not that any of this matters to Tabitha, as she collapses, completely dead to the world, a pool of blood spreading underneath her body.

"No!" Carol cries, but before she can do anything, Tabitha is buried underneath the fleeing survivors in their mad rush to safety.

Its over.

"No." Carol mutters defiantly as she turns back to the garage, picking up the pace again, "I'm not going to give up like this."

Goodbye.

"What?" Carol grunts in surprise. Its nowhere near over. She's almost reached the garage and safety. The clouds part, letting the full moon illuminate the ravaged settlement. The cold light shines downward, painting everything in faded color. Carol's eyes drink this lurid scene, straight out of hell.

And standing on the roof of the garage is Bambi, silhouetted against the moon, jacket fluttering in the cold night wind. The deer mask bobs up and down, but there's no hooting this time. Instead Bambi speaks in a human voice, rusty from disuse, but still understandable.

"GoOdBye."

Carol stares on in shocked horror as Bambi's rifle is leveled straight at her. There's a small flash and puff of smoke from the gun's muzzle.

And Carol feels her insides being torn apart.