None of this was real, Cerise realized. Her grandmother hadn't saved her from total isolation only to destroy the last places that held fond memories nor was she herself some distant and revered queen. She wasn't sure if the door before her was real, but it was the only thing that seemed steady and unwavering. She was pretty sure it wasn't, but she had nowhere else to go. She had reached the end of the line.

Her hand closed around the door knob and she gasped in surprise as she was flooded with the memories of what had come before. She had had a plan for her normal, boring life, and surviving a zombie apocalypse--and cannibal casinos, and talking horses, and surreal dreams--had not been a part of it. She was almost relieved that this is where it would end. Nothing that came next could possibly be as bad as what she had already lived through. She opened the door, went through, and--

She became numb to everything, her awareness dulled and nearly subsumed beneath a thousand other consciousnesses. She felt like she was floating. She felt nothing at all, but she could feel everything. She struggled to force her own thoughts to coalesce from the fragments of others' and was rewarded by the sudden silence of a thousand voices abruptly shutting up. She wanted to move away from the others and so, somehow, she did. Her body, once she became aware of it again, felt strange and heavy and not entirely under her own control. It was almost like being drunk and, like being drunk, probably just required a little more attention to things that she normally took for granted, like walking in a straight line.

It seemed to take forever, but she got her body moving--slowly and gracelessly, but forward and upright. She could see the vines all around her, reaching out, and slowly felt more stable as they made contact. As they formed around her, they left blank spaces on the walls, only not all of them were empty.

She saw--as much as she could see, now--a young girl suspended from the vines. Cerise had never seen her before, that she could recall, but the vines seemed covering her up. She brushed at the vines and they obligingly slid away, coiling up her arm to fill in gaps. Now she could see that the girl looked strange, with long black ears and horns but otherwise nearly human. But the open and vacantly staring eyes were a shade of green that seemed familiar, and the rich auburn hair fit her well, but also looked like it should be on a different creature.

Awareness dawned slowly and Cerise realized that she did know this girl, only in a much different form. This was Mrs. Ed, as she had called her for lack of a better name. The talking horse, the one who had saved her, and now she was stuck here with Cerise, who couldn't even save herself.

All this time--from Day Zero and the month that followed right up until that very moment--Cerise had been so focused on saving her own skin that it had been hard to worry about saving anyone else's. It was selfish, she knew, but she would rather be responsible for her own death than that of another person. She wouldn't have been able to live with herself. She had not handled this new way of life well, and no one should have to pay for that but her.

This girl, though--she had volunteered, Cerise remembered. This girl, or monster, or demon, or whatever she was, this person who didn't look old enough to drive, let alone go out to save people who couldn't even save themselves, had willingly offered to help her.

Now, Cerise had the opportunity to help her, and it was about time that she repaid the favor. She gently brushed the vines away from the girl and they fell away at her unspoken command, releasing their hold on the girl until she collapsed into Cerise's arms. She picked her up and the effort was staggering; she could feel some of herself fall away, but still she cradled the girl and made her way forward.

She could see stairs down the hall and knew they leaded out. If she could just make it up there, get the girl to safety, maybe she would stand a chance and not become some formless thing like Cerise. Maybe it would offer Cerise the slightest bit of redemption, too.

She was almost there, close enough to see the outside world. She could see shapes outside and the door opened just wide enough for her to make out shadows of what looked like people. They reached for Cerise's precious burden and she reluctantly handed her over to them, trusting them to take care of her where Cerise could not. Then the door closed, leaving her alone again.

She made her way back and she was so tired. She could feel her thoughts unraveling along with her body, and she thought how nice it would be to finally sleep. She could see others as she wandered back down the hall in various degrees of forms. Maybe they could all rest, now. That would be nice.