It began in Mexico. That was where the world began its demise.
After the virus engulfed half of Mexico in its sickly, crazed grip, it made its way to well known cities like San Diego and Los Angeles, the dead spreading like wildfire, turning innoce...
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Claire could feel someone shaking her. She rolled over and groaned, rubbing the sleep from her eyes.
"Claire."
She screwed her eyes shut, mumbling to herself as she pulled the blanket closer, feeling its warmth embrace her body.
"Claire!"
"What?!" Her eyes shot open and she came face to face with Owen. He was staring at her with wide eyes and his hand gripped her arm.
"They're here."
Now Claire was confused. She craned her neck to see the clock. 1:45am. Who's here? Honestly, just let me sleep.
"The feral people. They're here," he repeated, as if he knew that she was confused. When he said this, Claire bolted upright, mouth open in shock.
"What? How?"
Owen grabbed her hand and pulled her up and off the bed before she could ask anything else, then placed his own hand on her shoulder. "Claire, listen to me," he began. "I'll go and wake Maisie up, pack a bag, quickly, and meet me in the living room." His words were fast and frantic, then he ran out of the room to wake Maisie.
She stood there for a few seconds, then, putting all her questions to one side, she grabbed Owen's bag from the corner of the room and began to fill it with things she thought might be necessary - food, clothes, the small, framed picture of the three of them, that sort of stuff.
She really wasn't up to speed with all this, having only just woken up, but the panic in Owen's voice made her worry, so she tried to be as quick as she could.
If you were to tell Claire yesterday morning that she had to pack a bag to leave her home in the middle of the night in order to be safe from a bunch of feral creatures that were attacking the city, she probably would have laughed in your face - then apologise for being rude, of course.
She couldn't believe that this was happening, that these.. people.. were trying to break into the cabin and eat them alive. She shook her head, focusing on the task at hand.
After about two minutes of packing, she slipped her shoes on and ran into the living room, nearly bumping into the sofa she was sat on earlier as she skidded to a halt. Owen was in there with Maisie, who had her own smaller bag, presumably with her own clothes and a few personal belongings in it.
"I was just about to come and get you," Owen exclaimed, walking over to her. "Here, have this and I'll take that." He took the bag from her shoulder, and passed her a knife. She stared at the silver weapon, then she looked at him, shocked, and he pressed his mouth into a thin line, before swinging the bag onto his own shoulder, then turned round to face Maisie.
