My name is Ruth Collins.
I was married.
I lost my husband.
You are alone?
You were married?
Yes.
Children?
A daughter.

Don’t touch me
You must be hungry, I’ll fix you some dinner
Don’t touch me
Don’t touch me
What are you doing
You know, you should eat.
I can't.
Don’t touch me
Please, stop!
Stop it, please!
You, you are making me sick

You are infected.
No.
You think I’m one of them
You will be
Don’t touch me
Infected systems are allergic to garlic.

Don’t touch me
You've made up your mind just because I...
You can't change the facts by talking.
Facts? What facts?
That I got sick?
I've had a sensitive stomach all my life.
I saw my husband killed.
Torn to pieces, right in front of our house.
I've been wandering ever since.
Hiding at night.
Not eating more than scraps.
Sick with mourning, sick with fear, unable to sleep.
Then you shout at me.

You chase me across the field, hit me
Drag me to this house, and to top it all
When I get sick
Because you shove a piece of reeking garlic in my face
You tell me I'm infected.
Where are you going?
Let me go
You can't go out there now. Let me go
In a few minutes the streets will be full of them.
Let me go...I don't care.
At least let me give you a blood test

And now 12 long hours before the sun will rise...
And drive them back to darkness.
And now 12 long hours before the sun will rise...
And drive them back to darkness.