A World Fallen

groggily begin to part. Her finger is already over her mouth and the boy understands completely.
Crack! Crack! The noise bangs the sky again. Mikey slides down off her back. She points at the ground then holds her palm in front of his face, signaling for him to stay put. She retrieves the hammer from the backpack, then slowly moves forward, keeping hunched down close to the dirt. The noise is coming from just up ahead. As she closes in she can hear voices, not discernible yet, but still she knows more than one are present.
Crack! Crack! Rosaline peers out from behind cover to see three figures gathered around a fallen tree. Two males and a female. They appear to be about her age.
"Harder chacho! Come on, you do this all the time." The female says to the larger male, who is standing over the tree holding an axe.
"Back off! I've never chopped an actual tree before." he replies, clearly irritated.
The female and the other male are holding rifles. These two share the same bronze skin tone and dark hair. They resemble each other fairly closely, though it's obvious the female is at least a few years older. These people are not Adapted, or at least not the kind of Adapted Rosaline has ever experienced.
"Dude, you gotta hurry up. We told Hawaii we'd be back before dark. Come on, you got this!" The other male interjects, attracting the attention of the axe wielder.
The largest one nods, grins, then resumes chopping at the tree. Crack! Crack!
Rosaline studies the trio for several more minutes, watching the slow progress being made to split the tree apart. Her eyes squint, her brow furrows, she's realizing these people will not be leaving soon. She turns away from them, and quietly makes her way back over to Mikey. The boy is fidgeting about with some grass, his attention not being kept by the noise. His gaze moves to Rosaline as she approaches.
"Do not speak. There are some people. They have guns." she whispers to him.
Her voice is so low that she can barely hear herself.
"We can't keep moving until they leave."
They can still hear the tree being smacked with the axe as they bunker down to wait them out. Rosaline fears she once again may have to kill actual people to protect Mikey. Life is precious, and from what she's seen the diseased greatly out number real people. She doesn't like killing people, but killing anything is her strong suit. She hates that about herself. Fate blessed her with this skill, a skill she never wanted, but on some level does appreciate.
Her attention directs back to the area the noises are coming from. She grips the hammer tighter, her knuckles turning white. Her other hand is placed upon the grip of the gun attached to her side. She glances back to Mikey. A sour look painted upon her face, a sense of uncomfortable dread rises within her, and she can see the fear in his eyes too.

CHAPTER SEVEN
"Kylie! Kylie!"
The words are faint. Her head rings, her mind blares with sirens. Her vision narrows, expands, then narrows again. The words seem to be dipping in and out. Her body throbs, this pain is unfamiliar. Her limbs tingle and react slowly to her thoughts. She feels like she's underwater. She fights to open her eyes. Slowly control over her own body is coming back to her. Her eye lids timidly part. It's dark
"Kylie! Kylie!"
The words sound as if they're being screamed at her from miles away. Even though they sound so distant there is a sharpness to them that pierces her mind. She can hear her heart beating, it pounds and pounds inside her chest. It's beating too fast. Her gaze turns to her arm. She moves it up to her face. She knows it's hers, yet it feels foreign.
"Kylie! Wake up! Please!”
The words are louder now, and they feel close. The voice is familiar. Her eyes dart side to side, her brow folds down, her mind races as she tries to place who it is. “It's...it's...Markus? Who is Markus? Why do I know that name? Oh, no, what is my name? It's K..K...something...K...Ky...Ky...”
“Kylie! Kylie!” Markus shouts again.
“My name is Kylie!” she thinks. Markus is screaming her name. She is Kylie. She remembers that now, but who is Markus? Why does she know that name?
"Please! Please!"
She raises her head to see him pulling a car door, straining to pry it open. The car is attached to a tree. The hood is bent in. It's like the tree grew through it.
She winces, feeling the pain more as her cognizance is returning. Her eyes narrow again, concentrating on remembering, “Markus...Markus is...he's....he's...my husband...we're married. What are we doing here? What happened to that-”
A jolt of dread smacks her face. Markus was driving. They hit the tree. Her memory is coming back quicker. “Where were we going? We were...leaving...leaving why? Ah, to get away from the city...because...because...oh, no, the disease. There's a disease.”
"Kylie!"
Her eyes lock onto her husband, but she does not move.
"Kylie can you hear me? Baby, do you understand me?"
She slowly nods her head, her eyes still cloudy.
"I can't get the door open. Patrick is still inside!"
She grimaces again, there is another person in the car. “Patrick? Who is he? Patrick, Patrick...Patrick is...is...”
Her faces washes white, a ghastly horror overcoming her. She can feel her blood rushing to her heart. Patrick is her son. They were in a car accident. Her son is still in the car. She presses her hands against the ground, pushes up, and scrambles to her feet. She can't feel her legs, but that doesn't concern her. She takes a step forward, then falls to her knees, back to the ground.
"Patrick!" she screams, fear now firmly holding in her.
Markus grabs hold of her arm and helps her back to her feet.
"I pulled you out, but my seat broke. The baby seat is turned over and wedged between the back seat and driver's seat."
Markus leans