Did alot of writing today(atleast compared to the last 5 days) Still a bit behind thought, but I thought I share what I have so far. Personally I think this chapter contains one of my favorite lines. "Boo, do you trust me?"

In case you missed a previous instalment...
Chapter 1: http://community.abcfamily.go.com/forums/shows/-secret-life-american-tee...
Chapter 2: http://community.abcfamily.go.com/forums/shows/-secret-life-american-tee...
Chapter 3: http://community.abcfamily.go.com/forums/shows/-secret-life-american-tee...

Chapter 4.

John kicked the ball lightly, it soared through the air and plopped onto the ground with a silent thud. It bounced and rolled towards the back fence. Boo ran towards it. Picking it up, she turned to John and dropped it in front of her, where her leg smacked into it sending it over the house. John whistled, for a small kid she had one hell of a leg.
“Ha!” She giggled running towards John. “Beat that.”
“Don't be silly, I seen Grandma Joan kick harder then that.” John said. Boo tilted her head and scratched her head. “yeah, even in the wheel chair.” She let out a defeated grunt and folded her arms.
“Fine, then you go get it.” She said pointing over the house with her middle finger. John didn't bother correcting her. Mom and Dad had tried a thousand and one times to try and explain why the middle finger wasn't the finger you pointed with. Each attempt, every last one, failed miserably. John jogged towards the front house and found the ball under his 67 Chevy Impala that had been sitting in the driveway. He fell to the ground and inched himself closer. With his hand outstretched he could just touch the ball when he heard the dreadful moan. Chills danced across his spine, and nausea threatened to take control as something foul entered his nostrils. Forgetting the ball, he scurried out from under the car, preparing to run like Forrest Gump. But was pleasantly surprised when he saw a police officer. The image of his mom and dad flashed through his eyes. Excitement leaped up and over his heart.
“Officer can I help you?” John said, wiping dust and dirt off of his clothes. The officer staggered forward, his arm stretched outward. His mouth paralyzed open as a moan jumped out. “Sir... you probably should have stayed in bed.” It was then John noticed the unnatural pale of his skin, and the dry blood and gore on his hands. In his excitement, he had become blind to these. “Sir?” John stepped backwards. He had heard of dirty cops, but this was just insane! The Police Officer lunged at him. Dodging the officer, it started to pick up speed and being unable to stop its own momentum it fell to the ground. There was no indication that it felt his head slamming into the pavement. No yelp, no curses, nothing but that moan. John thought of going over to help him, but that smell stopped him. He remembered where he smelled it before. Sometime before Jason shipped out to basic training, there was a summer he would never forget. They had been visiting an Aunt and Uncles farm that had passed away a few days prior. Out back they had a meat locker, usually it was kept at the perfect temperature. But when Jason opened it, the most nauseating smell washed over and dominated them: the smell of rotting meat. Sometime after their deaths, the cooling system had shut down leaving it to bake and sweat in the summer sun.

As John watched the police officer struggle to get back to his feet, he could see Jason and him throwing up. Snapping out of the flashback, he focused his attention on the officer. He was standing on his feet again, his eyes locking onto him. It reminded him of Goggles, how he will follow your hand for half hour. The officer lunged at him again, this time Jason wasn't prepared. They tumbled and struggled for dominance. Just as Jason was pinned, the police officers hungry eyes and snapping jaw inching closer, he heard a scream. A moment passed before the scream registered and a single image flashed through his mind: Boo. She screamed again, yelling and pleading. John felt the adrenaline flow through his veins. Must be what a junkie feels after to long await between fixes.. Struggling with his attacker, he heard a sickening cracking sound. He looked over to see the officers hand had snapped off. He suppressed the urge to scream. The officers body was now being supported up by his arms. Pushing the thing aside, John stood up and looked for anything he could use as a weapon. Hold on Boo. He picked up a fist sized rock from the rock garden that lined the driveway. He had never been great at baseball, in fact his friends would tease him on his 'girly' throw. But right then, he was the God of Pitching. He threw back his arm, trying to take aim, and with all his force he threw the rock. It slammed into the officers head, landing with a sickening wet thump. It stood there for a moment and then crumpled to the floor, a dark putrid blood puddle began to form. John turned his back on his kill, revulsion in what he had done being suppressed only by Boo's frantic screams. He ran to the backyard and found Boo huddled against the back door crying, screaming and trying to fight off... John looked around the yard and found nothing. No white vans, no creepy dude who was trying to sell puppies, certainly not one of... well whatever the hell that officer was.
“Boo whats wrong?” John tried to place a hand on her head, but she swatted it away. “Boo its me, John.” She looked up, her blue eyes wide with fear. She wrapped her arms around him, trying to squeeze the life out of him.
“There were these people” She sobbed into his shirt, “they... they reminded me of that movie. You remember it?” John thought for a moment, whatever the movie was he would swear off letting her watch certain movies with him. “It was from that Georgey guy, Night at the...” she fumbled with the title for a moment. “I forget” She whispered. “But its bad.” John looked around the yard one final time, nothing. John tried opening the door and was met with resistance, “locked.” John tried opening it a few more times, getting a giggle out of her. The front's open. As Boo clang onto her brother, they walked towards the front and then he remembered.
“Boo, do you trust me?” John asked stopping. She paused and looked at him.
“Sure do.” She said, “Well not with me skittles!” She giggled. Amazing, he thought. Able to shake off something so terrible so fast.
“Close your eyes.” John demonstrated by closing his. “Do not open them until we are safe inside the house, alright?” Opening his eyes he was welcomed to the site of hers clamped down shut. John took her hand and helped guide her to the front. He made sure to put himself in between her and the cop. She didn't need to see that, hell I didn't! He put the thoughts away. When Boo was safely inside he told her to play with Goggles. Her screams for Goggles were much different the ones she let out of fear.
“What am I going to do?” John whispered crouching next to the body. He had killed someone... I killed him. John tried to stand, but his knees wobbled like jelly. He stepped backwards, each step an achievement in itself. “I... I'm a killer.” The thought whirled in his head. He hadn't killed a damned thing outside the insect word... and a spider here and their. He looked down at his hands, shaking violently. He turned his back on the corpse and threw up. “It was self defense... right? They have to believe me! He attacked me, unprovoked too.” John wiped the vomit from the side of his mouth. A punk kid, a dead cop, all in self defense? Yeah not happening. A cruel voice whispered inside. There was another moan and the image of the cop came back. He wasn't dead, just knocked out. Yeah thats it he scrambled to his feet, but the cop was just as lifeless. He scanned the neighborhood and found dozens of people staggering towards him.
“It was self defense!” He shouted. “You gotta believe me.” No reply other then the gross moaning. “Please!” Images of newspaper articles flashed through his head 'Punk Teen Kills Cop' 'Cop Killer Just 17!” “Parents of John Blackwood, Driveway Cop Killer, Discuss How He Was A Good Kid.” The people advanced and the front door of the house opened and slammed shut.
“Ghouls!” Boo screamed. John turned around, her eyes brimming with tears. The movie Night Of the Living Dead flashed in his eyes. Last year on Halloween there was a marathon of it on. He hadn't considered it to be possible for it to be scary, it was an old movie, and allowed Boo to watch. Walking away from the movie he was a bit shaken, but wondered how much of it she understood. Enough apparently. The pieces fell into place.

John ran up to the cop and upholstered his gun. The gun felt heavy in his hands. He had never used a gun before, his cousin Jason had always talked about taking him to a firing range and teaching him, but between school and his deployment there had never been time. Boo screamed and John spun on his heels to see her pointing at the on coming crowed. Blood and core pasted their face, their hair either falling out or caked in blood themselves. Cursing himself, how had he not noticed that?
“Get in the car, now!” John shouted. Boo ran to the 67 Chevy Impala and fumbled with the door before jumping in, slamming the door shut. John returned to the corpse of the cop and looked for more magazines. He found 2 more on the police and wondered if they would do. He stood up and the other zombies were close to the car. He glanced over at Boo hiding in the car. He opened the drivers door and jumped in. Fishing the keys out of his pocket he let out a gasp as the hands began to slap against the windows. Boo screamed as she balled up in the front seat. John turned the car on and backed out. As the car plowed over one of the zombies the car forced John and Boo to bounce in their spot. John quickly adjusted the rear view mirror and looked back. Three bodies were laying in his driveway... he killed them all. Fighting the urge to throw up he focused his attention on the road ahead. Then he realized something... the town seemed to be empty of any life...

Wesker stood in front of Mr. and Mrs. Blackwood's viewing window. His arms folded and a smug smile touching his lips. He marveled at the Z-Virus, the name the researchers had given the new strain of H1N1. Depending on the host the virus could obtain full control within half hour or it could take up to days. Wesker wasn't an expert in biology or any of those fancy words Scientist carried. But he had done extensive research while in college. He marveled at how such a tiny creature could cause so much pain and death. David and Goliath had been, and probably would always be his favorite scenario. The smaller of the foes taking down the giant. He burned the idea that just because something is small and looks weak, doesn't mean it can't and wont utterly destroy you. He traced the scar running down his left eye, remembering how he got this beauty of a mark. A kid. He had been serving in Vietnam, just before the war had ended. They had entered a village under the intelligence that they were harboring soldiers. While entering one of the houses he was jumped at by a 6 year old, a knife in hand. He pulled out his side arm and shot the kid, right then and there. No hesitation, no remorse. He admired the kid, and if he hadn't been so intent on killing him, well then he may have just let the bugger live.
“Colonel Wesker,” A man dressed in lab coat said. Wesker gave him a quick look over, wouldn't last a day on the field. “Sir, we have learned that this can cross species. From human to rat, and rat to human. Insects however seem to just die moments after being exposed.” Wesker nodded. Although he admired the Z Virus he feared it. But his fear subsided when the researcher finished his report. In most areas in the country summer had just started, mosquitoes would be out in full force and if just one of those pesky bastards managed to get their hands on an Infected... but that fear was squashed, just like a mosquito. Gerald and Martha had completely transformed by now. Four hours after intentional exposure, they were trying to claw their way out of the room. Now he had to wait and see how long it would take for them to starve. As if in defiance, Gerald turned to his once lovely wife and bit down into her rapidly decaying flesh. They struggled with each other for a moment but Gerald was happily, if they could feel happy that is, munching on his wife's flesh. As he tore at her, blood splattered around the room, there was no mercy coming from the undead.
“That's disgusting,” Wesker said. He keeled over and threw up. Wiping his mouth clean, popping in a mint, he felt weak. He had prided himself on throwing away most emotions, to conquer them and manipulate them to his will. But seeing this... he had thought he would be prepared but never did he imagine that they would turn on each other. Composing himself he left the facility, some fresh air would do wonders. He thought.