Survival of the fittest, right? That's what Olena kept trying to tell herself as she watched the youngman struggling in the street. She really didn’t want to get involved -- no, that was an understatement. She REALLY didn’t want to get involved, but out of the corner of her eye, Olena could see them heading in their direction. She still didn’t know what to call them. The Sick? The Undead? Zombies? Whatever they were, Olena just knew if she came out of hiding to help the man below, it wouldn't just be him that they were after.
“Get up already,” she whispered, squatting down as she peered over the apartment’s balcony. “That’s it! Now run! Run! No, run! Can’t you see them com--”
Fuck!
"You need to get out the street," Olena called, louder then she had intended. She wasn't trying to draw any more attention to Tevin, but he was doing such a good job on his own, that it didn't really make much of a difference at this point. "They're coming for you!"