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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"Owen! Stop the car!"
The car came to an abrupt stop and Claire had to hold onto the door to stop herself from flying out of her seat.
"What is it?!" Owen cried, panic written all over his face, his eyebrows furrowed and all.
"There's a child out there," Claire responded before turning to look out the window once more. The young girl had stopped in her tracks. She was stood still, eyeing their car cautiously and kept her distance.
"What?!" Owen and Maisie both exclaimed in unison. Maisie unbuckled her seatbelt to look out the window and Owen leaned forward and followed Claire's gaze in order to get a better look.
"I can see her," Maisie whispered.
"What's a little girl doing out here all alone?" Owen asked, not to anyone in particular. "She can't be any older than seven or eight."
"Are we going to get out the car?" Maisie questioned, pulling her eyes away from the girl to look at Owen and Claire instead. "Should we ask if she wants to come with us?"
After a moments pause, Claire spoke. "I will speak to her first, Owen, you can come out too, but stay by the car, Maisie, you stay inside."
Maisie seemed a little irritated by this, but didn't say anything.
Slowly, Claire exited the vehicle, the chilly wind hitting her face and skin as soon as she got out. Owen got out too and made his way round to her side of the car.
Claire got a better look at the girl. Owen was right, she couldn't have been more than seven or eight years old. Her hair was short and blonde, slightly tangled and knotted. She wore a dark green jumper with a triceratops on it and blue jeans. Her shoes were grey and muddy, with velcro instead of shoe laces.
She had a small bag on her back and Claire could just make out the cartoon-like ladybirds all over the bag.
Her clothes were quite dirty. Claire wondered, with a pang of sadness, how long she had been on her own for. As Claire approached her steadily, the girl took two steps back, so Claire stopped, not wanting to scare the girl and make her run away.
"Hey, sweetie" Claire said softly. "What's your name?"
The girl didn't answer and instead she reached into her belt and pulled out a pocket knife, grasping it tightly in her hands, though letting her arms fall down to her side.
Claire chose to ignore the knife. "My name's Claire," she continued, offering the girl a kind smile. "This is Owen, and the girl in the car is called Maisie."
Claire saw the girl's eyes shift to the car. Maisie had rolled down the window and her head was peeking out, obviously wanting to watch what was happening.
