Running. Legs sore, heart racing, lungs burning. He could hear the screams behind him, the howls. He couldn't look back, couldn't slow. He had to push himself as hard as he could. His pack weighed heavy on his shoulders but didn't impede his running. Running. That's all he could do. To turn and fight would be the end of him, even with the rifle in his hands. There were just too many of the Infected.

It had been almost a month since the outbreak of an unknown disease. This disease would slowly... devolve it's victim, eating away at the brain until only the frontal lobe remained. It would basically reset it's victim to their primal instincts. The victim would first become confused and lose the ability to speak. They would sweat profusely, no matter how cold or hot. Then they would finally snap, turning on the healthy with animal-like ferocity. Anything within the Infected's reach could become an implement to kill the healthy. They didn't sleep, didn't drink... they just hunted and killed.

There were few exceptions to this rule. Incredibly rare Infected who didn't attack you on site. They would simply stare at you, going about a repetitive task since it was all they knew. Most seemed to have moments of clarity in the haze of madness: asking for death, scrawling “Help” into the dirt or walls, and crying.

The worst of it all wasn't until nightfall. When the sun went down, you stopped where you were and made camp. It didn't matter if you were in the middle of scaling a cliff or floating down a river, you did not move. You did not talk. You barely breathed. For, at night, the Infected became even more dangerous. Their senses were heightened at night, their predatory instinct stronger, their pack nature more prominent. All you could do was fall asleep and hope they didn't find your slumbering body. It was that or stay up all night, watching them stalk by you.

Of course, the Infected weren't the only problem in this new world. Bandits, rogue military, warlords, they all vied for power and dominance. They all wanted your stuff and, in some cases, your body. They prowled where the Infected didn't, hoping to catch you by surprise. Many would claim to be survivors seeking assistance, only to break your leg and rob you blind.

All of that, however, was of no importance when one found themselves being chased by a small horde.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck!” the man, James Cole, breathed as he pushed himself harder. The woods in the mountains of Colorado both helped and hindered him. It slowed him, so it slowed the Infected. He just had to be a little less slow than them. Legs screaming, lungs burning. He had to find someplace fast, someplace to make a stand. That was the only way he would shake his pursuers, unless a juicier target dropped in front of them. The likeliness of that happening of none-to-none. Even if it did, James knew he wouldn't leave them to die.

“Oh shit!” he screamed, skidding to a stop just before the ground suddenly dropped away. Not a second later, James felt a solid weight slam into him, knocking him off. One of the Infected had been right behind him, silent as it had given chase. Now it, along with James, screamed as they plummeted. As they fell, James got a good look at the Infected. It was a 'her' with dirty, blood matted blonde hair. The hair, while not in the best condition, wasn't torn out like some of the others. She wore the tattered remains of a mechanic's jumpsuit. Grease stained her jumpsuit and skin, overlaid with blood and grime. Her blue, crazed eyes were staring at James as she snapped her jaws at him, the same jaws that were coated in blood.

Then everything disappeared in a flash.

-_-_-_-_-_-

James opened his eyes to a blue, cloudless sky. The sun was luckily in a position that allowed his hat's visor to shade his eyes. Even so, his sunglasses helped reduce any of the excess glare. Around him, he could hear people, humans. They were pressed together, he could feel the people around him pushing into him, vying for that extra inch. Extra inch to what? A look forward gave that answer as buses, guarded by Humvees and soldiers, sat lined up on the road.

“Please stay calm,” droned the officer behind the loudspeaker, “everyone will be able to fit on the buses. Please remember that it is one bag per person and that the bag must be able to fit on your lap.”

The man's voice, even with the loudspeaker, was almost drowned out by the buzzing of voices from the crowd. Questions were asked: “Why is this happening?” at the top of the list. Both child and adult alike were crying, the tears falling freely from their eyes. Some told jokes to lighten the mood while others just stared at the buses. Gunfire could be heard in the distance by those who strained their ears. Far enough away to not cause immediate worry.

They had heard of it in other countries. James had seen the grainy cell phone videos of the infected chasing other humans. He had seen the guts, the gore, the blood but he had always had the same thought: it's over there. That was the average American's thinking. It's over there.

Now it was over here, in their backyards and their streets. Now it was an American problem because it was on American soil. The disease had jumped by plane or ship and know it was spreading across the country with a speed thought impossible. As the disease spread, the American military began to evacuate entire cities to 'containment camps' in attempts to keep the disease from spreading.

As the screaming started, James knew it was too late.

The scream, filled with shock and pain, came from the back of the herd. More screaming arose from the back. Shouting came too: “It's here!”

As if to answer what was there, a human ran onto the roof of the car and looked upon the herd. Their stance was predatory: back hunched, arms out, hands curled into claws. Their eyes were empty of everything but rage. Blood caked their torso and lower face, a gaping wound visible on their left forearm. Their tongue hung from it's mouth, visibly dripping saliva. They then reared their head back... and howled.

The noise was inhuman, echoing across the packed in crowd. Children covered their ears, babies cried louder, adults stared; everyone had a shiver run down their spine. Then the screaming, having been drowned out by the howl, came back. The screaming of the pained, the dying.... the deranged.

As one, the herd turned and proceeded to stampede toward the awaiting buses and soldiers. Screams of terror filled the air. Those two slow were knocked over, trampled to death by the frightened herd of creatures. Bags were forgotten and dropped, tripping up even more of the mass. All this served to slow the crowd. All this served to assist the Infected.

James, being carried by the surge, fought his way to the side. Though his survival instinct told him to stay with the mass, his common sense informed him that doing so would simply lead to his death. Thus he pushed his way through the mass to the outside. What he would do when he got out, he had no idea.

He was close, so close. He could see the packed together cars through the people. Maybe he could hide in a car? Wait for this to blow over? Maybe-

His thoughts stopped as another Infected jumped onto a car in front of him. It looked around at the panicking mass. The crazed eyes came to rest on James, who stood frozen as the bodies pushed around him. This is it, he thought, No escape.

The Infected opened it's mouth and howled.

-_-_-_-_-_-

James' eyes snapped open to the darkness of night and an inhuman howling that was most certainly real. A howl of distress that made James' ears ring due to the closeness of it's source. Before his mind could come up to speed, he was on his feet and running, both hands held tightly onto his rifle. He dodged trees that appeared from the night. He stumbled over exposed roots and tore through bushes and tall grass. With fight or flight in full effect, he flew through the woods, uncaring of anything around him.

He had to get distance between himself and the Infected. Once he had that, he could bunker down for the night. His only hope as that the howl would draw any other infected to the caller and distract them from hearing James' hurried movement. Even these creatures knew to respond when one of their own was in trouble. It was a basic instinct; help your own.

Thus James pushed energy into his aching legs, urging them to create significant distance between himself and the trapped Infected. Something inside him told him it wouldn't stay trapped for long.

-_-_-_-_-_-

At the edge of the forest sat a lone cottage. The cottage seemed to be in a losing fight with nature as the grass grew up it's curved walls and on it's roof. Seemingly innumerable bird houses surrounded the cottage while dens were spread amongst the tiny mounds in the property. A fenced in backyard contained a chicken coop and more than a few feeding dishes.

Inside this naturalist paradise lived a butter yellow pegasus with long, flowing pink hair. This pegasus, Fluttershy was her name, had a reputation around the nearby village as being a kind and compassionate pony. She was known as the caretaker for any animal that found itself within her hooves, no matter it's dietary needs. Whispers floated around about how the normally timid and easily frightened pegasus had even faced an enraged dragon when it had threatened her friends.

This current night, however, the pegasus was under her blankets, shaking like a leaf. Her breathes came in quick gasps. She shut her pinprick eyes as another howl reached her ears, which pinned to her head in response. Her wings were wrapped around her body, shut tight in fear. Whatever was in the forest, she knew that it was not one of her animal friends. She didn't even think it was anything she knew of. It sounded primal, much more than that of any animal she had met.

She knew she had to let Twilight know, if she hadn't heard it herself, but she couldn't find it in her to go outside at night. Not when whatever was making the noise could be prowling around, hunting for a pegasus roast.

“I-I'll just w-w-wait until morning,” she whispered to herself. She found herself hoping that her animal friends were okay.

Author's Notes:

Hey guys. Recently read The Remaining. It was an AMAZING book! Very well written. The imagery had kept me awake on more than a few nights, expecting an Infected to bang on my door with a cleaver.

Anyway, here's a crossover for y'all. Hope ya like it.