Morgendorffer let her shotgun lead the way as she stepped into the third Daria's attic. She noticed that number three didn't have any weapons on her, and wondered if she didn't wear them during daylight hours. Not smart. Morgendorffer used to not bother wearing her weapons during daylight hours, until another survivor pulled into town. The man was half-crazed and had attempted to rape her; she had had to gouge his eyes out before strangling him. (Had he been more lucid, she probably would not have survived). Another survivor would have instilled hope in her that the human race may eventually pull through, but...

Morgendorffer realized something was wrong as she got off the ladder into the upstairs hallway. The lights were on.

"No, it's not wrong. It's right," she commented to herself.

She opened her (well, Daria 3's) door and stepped into the room. She reached up on her toes and hit the power button on the TV, then realized that her TV had never worked even before the downfall of man. Instead, she turned and saw the LED on her computer was on, indicating it was in standby. She moved the mouse, waking the computer up. The first thing she thought to do was open up a browser and go to a news website.

"There's no zombies," she said to herself breathlessly.

The world wasn't perfect, to be sure. Plane crashes, school shootings, wars, but humans were still at the top of the food chain.

She stood up and went back out into the hallway. She peeked into the master bedroom; the bed was unmade. Quinn's room was pink as ever.

She went downstairs and turned the TV in the living room on. Sick, Sad World was having a close look at Bigfoot sightings in Elvis impersonator contests. The last episode she'd seen in her own world had been a report on how the flu victims were coming back to life, and recommended methods of disposal. It had saved her life.

Finally, she was drawn to the kitchen. Trembling, she stood before the refridgerator door. One hand reached out and pulled it open. The wave of cold air hit her, and she shivered a little. Her hand grabbed the first thing she saw - one of Quinn's diet sodas - and she popped it open and drank it down. It was the sweetest thing she had ever tasted.

"Daria, that's my pop, damnit!" Morgendorffer turned, startled. It was Quinn. Her lip quivered, then she ran over and embraced her sister.

"Oh God, Quinn, I've missed you so badly," she confessed.

"Daria, what the hell-" Quinn suddenly made a face. "Oh my GOD, what is that smell? Daria, did you roll in skunk poop or something?"

Morgendorffer suddenly realized it had been months since she had taken a proper shower. "Oh, uh, sorry about that." She backed away from Quinn sheepishly. Quinn's eyes fell on what was in Morgendorffer's other hand.

"Daria, is that a shotgun?" Quinn's eyes were wide, and her voice sounded smaller. "Did Dad keep that up in the attic?"

"Huh?"

"The ATTIC, Daria? The one you were looking for some of your old junk in? Gawd!" She kept looking at the shotgun. "Are you going to take that to one of those toys for guns programs or something?"

"Er. Something like that."

"Good. Well, before you do, go take a shower. I'd just die if Sandi or Stacy came over and smelled you." Quinn made a dismissive hand gesture and walked into the living room, where Morgendorffer heard the faint sounds of one of Quinn's vapid modeling shows come on.

She went back upstairs, into the attic, where Jane stood watch over the still-unconscious third Daria. "Jane, there aren't any zombies here."

"What? No zombies at all?"

"No. Quinn's alive. Trent should still be alive too!" Daria could barely keep the joy out of her voice.

Jane's face darkened, though. "Daria...if these people don't have zombies...they might still be open to infection. Just because we're immune it doesn't mean the virus isn't around us, on our clothes, covering every inch of our skin. We may have just damned this whole world."

XXXX

"Quinn, I need you to come upstairs."

Quinn rolled her eyes and stood up. Daria was probably going to try and play a trick on her and get her to look through the attic for her or something.

She grudgingly marched up the stairs, finding the attic door hanging open, stairs down. "Damnit, Daria, do you really want me to go up to that dusty old place?"

"Yes, Quinn. Please, it's important."

She climbed the ladder, rolling her eyes, muttering. She looked up to see Daria staring back down at her, tears brimming in your eyes. "Well, I'm up here. What do you want?"

Daria hugged Quinn again. "I'm so sorry, Quinn," she said, making Quinn nervous.

"Daria, what did you do? Why are you sorry?"

Instead of answering her, Daria turned to the back of the attic. "Okay, Jane," she said.

A woman with black hair in a ponytail emerged from the shadows in the rear of the attic. "Hey, you look like..." Quinn trailed off as the woman raised a big gun, one of those Dirty Harry guns that could shoot through people like it was nothing, and it was pointed at her and

XXXX

Morgendorffer flinched as the shot rang out. She allowed a few tears to escape before swallowing down the grief. She still had to kill herself.

She aimed the shotgun squarely at the face of her counterpart. She swallowed. She primed a shell into the chamber.

Just as her finger tightened on the trigger, the other Daria opened her eyes. The eyes widened upon noticing the shotgun. Morgendorffer hesitated just long enough for Daria 3 to roll out of the way, knocking the shotgun away, the shot harmlessly knocking a hole in the floor. Daria 3 shot to her feet and rushed to the attic ladder, knocking Jane to the side. She stopped short upon seeing her dead sister - allowing Morgendorffer to pump the shotgun and fire, this time catching Daria 3 in her back. She fell, paralyzed, blood starting to seep out of her mouth.

"Why?" she choked out.

"Because we made a mistake," Jane answered, caressing Daria 3's face before placing the Magnum to the side of her head and pulling the trigger.

XXXX

Jane was dumping the contents of a gasoline can around the attic, to incinerate the bodies, the house, and hopefully the virus. She had found the can in the garage of this house, and it was nearly full, so it shouldn't be a problem.

She tossed the empty can to the side, then rejoined Morgendorffer at the threshhold of the two doors. Jane withdrew a book of matches from her pocket, gave one last look to Morgendorffer, and struck the match, tossing it into the attic and withdrawing into her own universe along with Morgendorffer.

As the attic door closed, the front door opened. "Daria? You home?" John Lane called. After a moment, he noticed the smell of smoke. "Fire! FIRE!" he shouted, racing up the stairs. He saw that the flames came from the attic, and remembered that Daria was supposed to be cleaning up there today. He rushed up the ladder, unconcerned for his own health.

He saw Quinn first. Seeing her prone on the floor, he rationalized that she must have been overcome with smoke inhalation. He picked her body up, hopped down the ladder, raced her down the stairs, and laid her on the lawn, before rushing back inside. (He was in too much of a hurry to notice that a black pit had replaced one of Quinn's eyes).

Back in the attic, he found Daria a few feet in - she had fallen behind some boxes, so John hadn't seen her first. He scooped her body up and rushed her outside with the same haste. In the distance, he could already hear the sirens as they grew louder.

He began to administer mouth-to-mouth to Daria. It was half a minute before he realized he tasted blood, and he took a moment to evaluate Daria. He realized that his chest compressions were driving blood from her lungs (perforated with buckshot) to her mouth, and he suppressed the urge to vomit. Then he noticed that her hair had a great deal of blood on it. He touched it, went through it, and he felt something wet, squishy, and sticky. He withdrew his fingers, now coated in blood and carrying a small, wrinkled piece of flesh.

He stared at it a moment before he realized it was a piece of Daria's brain.

The paramedics and fire-fighters found him sobbing uncontrollably, embracing Daria's corpse and rocking back and forth. At the hospital, he was given a strong sedative, so that he might finally rest.

The next day, John had developed a slight cough. The doctor thought it might be lingering effects from the smoke inhalation, and took no special note of it. However, he suspected he had the sniffles (likely from one of the nurses...the one attending John kept sneezing every ten minutes or so). He hoped whatever bug he had didn't interfere with his trip to New York City two days ahead - it was his parents' anniversary, and he wanted to take them to a fine restaurant to celebrate.

A month later, 99% of that Earth's population was dead and walking.