How many friends did she have to lose until this nightmare was over? How many people will she have to free of the infection until there was a cure? The blue-haired woman sat in her office, her head in her hands as the protected camp bustled with life. She had created this haven for survivors, right in downtown December. Meryl’s head spun as she wallowed in her misery. How was this fair? An apocalypse, of strange zombie like creatures wide spread across Earth. The moment they arrived it had gone to shit.

If there was a god out there, what sort of cruel, evil punishment was this? What had humanity done to deserve this? She paused, before running a hand down her face. Millions of things could answer that, but pondering on it wouldn’t find a cure faster. They had been able to deduct Plant spores had been the main cause. Her journal was littered with notes, her semi-cursive handwriting scribbled across each line as if an empty promise to those who lost their lives to this dammed infection.

Roberto, her own mentor. The memory was painful. Having to kill him to prevent the spread across the camp. Sure, they had containment for those who were early stage infected, but that didn’t mean it was any kind of easy. For all she knew, Milly could be next! Meryl worked tirelessly. Working herself to exhaustion where she frequently passed out from lack of sleep. She just wanted a cure. A cure to help her friends, to help those who needed it most. Some elixir, a vaccine, anything.

Her once steaming coffee had grown cold from hours of neglect as the twenty-two year old wallowed in regret, pain, and despair. She hated to see those she cared for suffer. Rosa hounded her for a cure for Tonis, an early stage infected. She had been so caught up in her thoughts, she didn’t hear the door creak open.