Author's Note: My first original fic that I've posted on here! Hurrah! Yes…anyway. All the characters belong to me, although the dude at the end (blondie) is based on Kiefer Sutherland's character 'David' from 'Lost Boys' – great movie. If you haven't seen it, I advise you to go buy/rent/steal it now! It really is good. So…here we go!

Chapter One: The Beginning

Gunshots were heard to her left; she sharply turned and ran as quickly as she could away from the gunshots, away from the mayhem and murder. No, this wasn't murder, this was a massacre, dead bodies surrounded her feet as she ran even faster through the forest. She heard snaps as her boots cracked against bones and skulls. More gunshots now, but nearer, too near for her liking. She stopped, she carelessly smeared her face with the back of her hand, and she immediately felt something warm and wet. Blood, sweat and tears covered her hand. And as she wiped the discomforting mess onto her blue denim jeans she heard a sour blood scream from only a few feet away, behind the shadowy trees.

Her breathing stopped and she became still, waiting for a sign that things were safe. What was she thinking? Things will never be safe again. Never. Something was going to happen, she could sense it, the hairs on the back of her neck prickled, and her hands were shaking. Fresh tears trickled down her face, she instantaneously scolded herself. They took pleasure in other's fear; they were probably getting off on her right now, watching her through the murky canopy of branches and leaves, waiting to pounce on her.

She glanced at the bodies below and around her, they're skin pale and tight, eyes wide and blank, mouth wide open in agony. All of them had suffered. She would suffer. It was just a matter of when. She choked back a sob and inhaled through her nose, the smell of blood and rotten flesh invaded her senses. She gagged and her stomach retched, pouring vomit onto one or more of the innocent victims.

Leaves rustled behind her and she turned whilst reaching for her gun that was tucked into the belt which held up her torn jeans. Her eyes darted around the area of trees where the disturbance had come from. She lifted the gun up, just incase they decided to take her by surprise. She had no bullets left, suicide was not an option: it was a tease. She had used the bullets and wasted them by White Lake outside the forest:

They had ambushed her and the Rescue Team, who were looking for survivors around White Lake, they had found only her. They were approaching the helicopter when the living dead sensed and found them. The helicopter left and the Rescue Team were left to defend themselves against their attackers. Her hero's died or escaped within minutes, she had tripped over the gun that she now held, and laid hidden in the long grass. She had stayed silent for half an hour, maybe more, everything seemed still and serene. She propped herself up on her elbows, checking to see that she was alone. She was. She stood up and picked up the gun, praying to God that they work like they do in the movies.

She looked either way, the tall grass and the forest were the only ways. The forest would be better; it gave her a cover and somewhere to hide if they came back. They did come back; one appeared in her sight within seconds of her moving towards the forest.

He had jumped from somewhere, but the trees were to far away. His face was contorted, his eyes were yellow, his teeth were sharp and he growled as her reached for her with long finger-nailed hands. He looked strong and had broad shoulders, a bandana was tied around his bald head and leather covered every other part if him.

She squealed with surprise and aimed the gun at his head and pulled the trigger. He fell to the ground. She stood there momentarily, dazed at what she had just done. As soon as she gained feeling back in her limbs, she began to move more quickly towards the forest. No sooner had she left the corpse's side, did the corpse get up and leap upon her, wrestling with her in the grass. She noticed there was no longer a gunshot wound on his head and resisted the urge to scream, knowing that more of this thing's kind could come for her.

She struggled against his weight, he grinned evilly at her, obviously enjoying her pain and panic. She managed to shoot him in the chest, which made him fall back, but he was up again soon. She fired at him as he staggered towards her, he was healing fast, and she saw the bloodstains flow back into his wound. Before it had fully healed she repeatedly pulled the trigger, hoping to make him weaker or maybe stop him for a minute while she ran away.

He fell to the ground and disappeared into the grass; she took her chance and ran with all her might into the safety of the forest. At least she thought it would be safer, the gunshots and screams proved that she was most likely to be the only one still alive. This ultimately meant that she had the predators all to herself, or would do shortly.

What would she do if she escaped? There was no-one else in town that was alive, she was the only survivor. What about people in other parts of the world? Were things like this happening in America? China? Russia? She knew from a TV Report on the News a week ago that these things had crossed the English Channel and were invading France and Spain. But a lot can happen in a week, what if half the world was like this? What would she do?

"Elizabeth?" A gravelly unfamiliar voice spoke her name.

She turned quickly, coming face to face with possibly the most angelic yet sinister face she had ever seen. Pale skin; like that of a marble cherub, mane down to his shoulders of platinum blonde, and piecing ice blue eyes underneath hooded eye lids. She felt like blushing in the presence of such natural beauty, but the way he was looking at her made her feel uneasy.

She held up the gun that had been at her side, and aimed it at his chest. This seemed to amuse him and he uttered a deep chuckled. Elizabeth watched him as he raised a leather clad hand and rubbed his forehead. She noticed, taking in all of him, that what he was wearing was all leather; boots, trousers, jacket and the long coat that encased it all. Light reflected off of something near his ear, an earring maybe? She squinted and recognized it as a 'hangman's noose'.

She looked at his eyes, which were looking right back at her.

"Who are you?" She had hoped that her voice would sound strong and unafraid, but instead it came out as barely more than a whimper.

He began to walk around her, as if he was circling his prey. The though made her shudder, and she turned with him, refusing to take her eyes, and the gun, off him. He looked as if he was considering all the possible answers to her question, this annoyed Elizabeth deeply. A simple question required a simple answer, why wasn't she getting one?

He finally stopped his graceful prowl and turned to her on his heels, he looked at her with those incredible blue eyes, "Wouldn't you rather know what I am, Elizabeth?" He smirked and began to walk towards her.

She was instantly terrified, she took a few steps back, trying to keep the gun steady in her shaking hands. Tears once again fell from her eyes; something that made him speak.

"Come now, Elizabeth, there's no need to be frightened." His velvet voice was soft and coaxing.

She was scared, but most of all she was confused. How did he know her name? What did he mean by 'what he was'? But most of all, if he was one of those creatures why was he making small talk? Why didn't he just kill her?

"What do you want!?" She screamed at him hysterically, her tear-soaked face shining in the moonlight. She tripped suddenly, over something that was on the ground behind her, it could have been a log, but Elizabeth knew it was someone's limb. A dead and decaying arm perhaps from the carpet of the innocent dead.

The thought that her entire being was touching corpses shocked her, and she stopped crying. Another horrible realization was that she was now completely defenseless against this handsome and menacing thing that stood only a few feet before her. She had lost her grip on the gun when she fell backwards, she looked to her left and saw that it was too far away for her too reach.

She looked back up to him hovering over her; like some blessed angel in leather. He held out his hand to her.

"What I want, dear Elizabeth, is you."

Author's Note: I really sort of need feedback on this, as it is my first original piece of writing to ever be in public view. So yeah…REVIEW ME NOW!!!!