Rebecca Chambers gripped her Beretta tighter between her fingers, increasing her pace and steering clear of the mangled, motionless arm that protruded out from under a pile of rotting lumber. Her boots made scratching sounds on the bone-dry dirt, the only noise other than her quick, ragged breaths.

Her mind seemed to run in the same anxious circle, hardly aware that she had come to another door. Only half-conscious of what she was doing, she took the cold knob in her hand and turned. It was unlocked.

Please, be here—

Again, for what felt like the umpteenth time in the last hour, her heart sank with disappointment as she entered and found the room empty. It was better than running into another monster, Rebecca knew, but she felt she could face any number of zombies and come out unscratched, if only promised that she would find Billy alive.

Now out of habit more than will, her mind tormented her again with the last few memories of the man she had met less than a day ago, whom she had come to rely on more than she would ever have believed. It continued to dangle before her a seemingly endless list of possibilities—he could easily be dead, drowned or crushed beneath the current that had carried him away, or eaten by some decomposing beast; perhaps he was alive, slowly feeling the effects of the virus as it spread throughout his body, caused by his encounter with the monkey, or baboon, or whatever it was, that had started it all.

Metallic clangs echoed off the walls as the ground's surface changed, magnifying Rebecca's every step.

Don't worry about that now, she ordered silently. Just find him first—that's all you can do.

She came to another door and paused.

If he was alive, did he know she was coming? Was he already up and moving? Was he thinking of her?

Rebecca put a hand to her forehead and closed her eyes, trying to steady herself.

What if he was dead? What if she never found him?

What if?

What if?

What if?

He had seemed so invincible before now, like nothing could ever bring him down, and now he—and very possibly his survival—depended on her.

She already owed him her life and then some, but there was something else that had spurred Rebecca along in her search: a kind of warm feeling that had been there for a while, residing just behind her heart, and that had turned ice cold at Billy's absence, creating a sore spot in her chest.

The bond that had taken place between them was so solid that, although an only child, she imagined this was how it felt to lose a brother; but when Rebecca tried to tell it to herself, the word "brother" didn't sound right. It was like having a familiar taste in her mouth that she couldn't place—close, but no cigar.

The door before her gave way as she pushed it, but it had barely swung inward more than a few inches when the sweetest sound reached her: running water. Hastily Rebecca shoved the door open and moved inside, where she was immediately hit by a wall of dank, heavy air that made her hair cling to her skin. She blinked in the low green light, trying to adjust to the onslaught of sound and sudden decrease in visibility, but not even they could prevent her from noticing the still figure on the ground several feet away.

"Billy!"

Reverberating throughout the room, her voice still sounded small and desperate as she crammed her pistol into its holster and dropped to her knees beside him. He was lying face-up on the floor, unmoving, legs still hanging off the metal pier into the black stream of water. Rebecca quickly felt under his jaw for a pulse, and with a numbing chill down her spine she realized he wasn't breathing.

No, no—don't be dead—

She shook him, gently at first, then harder. "Billy—Billy!" No response.

Heart pounding, she opened his mouth and leaned down, straining for the sound or feel of his breath, but none came. She looked him over once, and then with a hardened resolve Rebecca used two fingers to pinch his nose shut and came down again, this time covering his cold lips with hers and breathing into him. After two seconds she straightened up, placed her open palm over his chest and put all of her weight into several firm, downward thrusts, counting each one as a hiss between her teeth.

Don't you dare, she thought. You're the one who said we need to stick together.

Every time she came up from another breath to find him just as motionless as before was a burning stab to her hope. It wasn't until the sixth or seventh attempt—Rebecca had lost count—that a moan sounded in his throat, and before she could fully draw back, Billy turned his head to the side and gave a retching cough, spitting up a good amount of water and gasping for oxygen when there was nothing left.

Such relief flowed through Rebecca at this that for a moment she was at a loss for words or actions, content to simply sit and enjoy the reality that he was all right, that she had succeeded. But then she moved behind him and hoisted him up, wrapping one arm around him and resting his head in the crook of her neck.

"Rebecca," he murmured, "where…am I?"

"Shhh." She rocked tenderly back and forth, not caring that the right side of her body was already soaked from his damp shirt. "It's okay—you're safe now."

It was strange, how happy Rebecca felt; she didn't think it possible to be stranded in the midst of that hell and ever feel half as good as she did then, but, she knew, there was a difference in being stranded alone and being stranded with someone who cared about you. She had forsaken all possibility of getting out alive and safe with Enrico in order to find Billy, and she didn't regret that decision in the least.

She heard the smile in Billy's voice as he said, now with more strength, "I guess I lucked out in teaming up with a medic." Looking down, Rebecca was surprised to find him watching her. She returned the stare for a few seconds before diverting her gaze.

"Do you think anything's broken?"

Billy sat up with a groan, pulling himself from her hold as he withdrew his legs from the water. "Doesn't feel like it." He ran a hand over his shin as though trying to rouse it. "Unless being numb counts." Grasping the nearby railing, he climbed to his feet, leaving his right hand on it for balance as he faced her. Rebecca stood.

"You're sure you're all right?" she asked.

"No problem. Just a few bruises." Billy smiled reassuringly, letting her know his gratitude. "Rebecca," he added as she began to turn away, "back there, before that thing attacked me…" His eyes were narrow as he tried to remember. "You pushed me out of the way, didn't you?"

She nodded without looking at him. "Yeah." Not meaning to, her fingers touched where the animal had struck her hip. Rebecca shrugged. "I figured you'd have done the same for me."

Billy reached out and felt the dried blood on her pants, taking a step towards her. "Did you take a look at it?" he said concernedly.

"It's nothing bad." Her tone had dropped, seeing as how he was close enough for his chin to graze the top of her head, but Rebecca was more concentrated on the fact that her left hand, resting on the rail, was now under his right.

With a grim laugh he said, "Doesn't look like we'll be getting out of here without a few scars." His eyes left her wound and traveled to her face.

"Guess not," she agreed softly.

There was a brief bit of silence between them, interrupted only by the rushing water. Billy's free hand moved up to her waist; nothing too personal, but more like a request of permission. When she didn't object, he tilted his head slightly and moved a little closer. Rebecca glanced away, determined not to look at him in hopes that he wouldn't give in to what they were both thinking, but in the end she found his eyes again. His arm slid around her, the dangling handcuffs clinking against the metal railing as she backed into it. She was caught in place, but he still came slowly closer. Rebecca's breath escaped her as his firm body pressed against hers, holding her steady, and by the time his mouth stopped to hover less than an inch away, her heart rate had nearly doubled and she could barely stand.

She somehow found the force to whisper his name, but he was so close that the word seemed to bounce back into her throat, bringing with it a faint hint of his taste.

Her veins were pumping electricity.

Only the outermost molecules of their lips had brushed when a terrifying splash erupted from the water. Rebecca looked to her right—Billy's left—in time to see a ridiculously large frog, four feet high and about the same distance wide, probably weighing four times as much as both of them combined, clamber up beside them. Its slick, glistening skin shone in the dull light, one blank eye focused on the intruded.

In a blink Billy had backed away from Rebecca and drawn out his pistol, but a similar splash exploded behind them, announcing another enemy. Now surrounded, the two of them were side-by-side facing opposite directions, guns up and at the ready.

Looking over, Rebecca saw Billy give what she interpreted as a go-figure smirk as he clicked off the safety.

"Shall we?"