Will was inspecting the back area of the camp.
The back of the camp was shorn in by a few more tables and chairs, and the original camp ground chain length fence that was half destroyed from looters. There was some kind of tower created out of the tables, and on top was a man who looked to be in his forties, staring into the middle distance.
The man had a crossbow strapped to his back, his long hair pressed to his back behind it.
Will hated long hair on men, and spat out at the sight. Yet, from what Will could see, the man was wearing some kind of army shirt. On his shoulder was the famous “Screaming Eagles” patch from the 101st Airborne Division.
As Will inspected the man, Boyd silently crept up behind him.
“Were you expecting me to pull some cool ninja move on you or something?”
Boyd was startled, more so that it didn’t happen than that Will correctly guessed his intent.
“No, course not. I was just wantin’ a talk with you.”
“Boyd right?” Will asked, already starting to take control of the conversation.
“Yessir.”
“Well Boyd, let me be the first to tell you that I don’t know how defensible this position is. The rear is even worse than the front gate, we’re in the middle of nowhere yet still too close to the town, and there isn’t a river or source of water for miles.”
Will continued pacing up and down the back of the camp and inspecting it. Boyd decided he wasn’t going to get anywhere with the stranger and walked away, back to the front to help with the new defenses.
“You know what you’re talking about stranger.”
Will looked up and saw the man still staring off into the distance.
“Excuse me?”
“Not many round here seem to understand or even care about the weaknesses of the perimeter.”
Will hardly believe the situation; the whole thing had a bizarre air to it he felt. He couldn’t help but laugh to himself at how hard this guy was trying to look like a badass.
“So why stick around? I’m sure there are other survivors around here somewhere.”
The man finally looked down. For the first time, Will noticed there were splotches of dried blood on his face. He looked like he’d been through a hell that he had created himself, possibly for himself.
“Most survivors around here would blow your head off for a can of beans. Needless to say some of them aren’t survivors anymore. Besides, there was something I had to do here. Once.”
Will was about to ask, when someone behind him yelled: “They’re here!”
In a flash, the man jumped from the table tower and ran towards the front of the camp. Again, Will refused to believe what he’d just saw. He quickly pulled himself together, and followed behind the man.
Kim lifted her rifle, and held her breath. It was her old M16 from Iraq, never let her down.
As the cries, shouts, and gunfire around her faded into the background, she found herself in her own place. It was her own little world, a place free from distractions and, more importantly, free from reality. She found it useful in the deserts of Iraq, but only in the moment. Once she came back from that place, she could still see the carnage around her.
A large group of the undead was approaching them, more than she’d ever seen in one place before. They stampeded in their hundreds down the highway and through the trees towards the camp.
She began firing without thinking. She could practically here Will in her ear yelling commands at the squad.
After what felt like hours but what were really minutes, Will did rush up next to her.
“Just like old times, huh?” he said, firing into the trees. “Everyone, here now, forgot about your crap we’re not gonna need it soon.” He stopped shooting and turned to the back of the camp, now addressing everyone.
“What that supposed to mean?” Boyd asked. He was sitting in his tent near the front gate, packing his things into a backpack.
“It means we’re all gonna be dead soon if you all don’t pick up a rifle and start shooting.”
The mysterious man was standing on top of one of the cars being used as the new gate. He threw aside his crossbow a massive machine gun. Will wondered where the hell he could possibly have gotten it. He turned his attention back to the rest of the camp.
“What the hell are you waiting for then?” He continued shooting the zombies, who were slowly but surely inching toward the camp.
Ronnie was the first to rush over carrying an old hunting rifle. The old man missing his right arm hobbled over with a pistol. He was firing slowly, and methodically. It looked as if he wasn’t carefully aiming so much as he was scared.
“Anna honey,” Elizabeth cupped her hands around he daughters face, “I want you to start gathering our things. Stay here and do exactly what your father says when the time comes.”
“What do you mean?”
“Just do it honey. I love you.”
Elizabeth kissed Anna on the forehead and joined the firing line with another ancient hunting rifle.
But the zombies kept coming, stammering over the other zombies falling around them. As one fell, three more were there to take its place. Kim damned herself for agreeing to go with Ronnie, hated herself for ever going anywhere with Will.
“There are too many of them!” She cried out. The mysterious man threw his machine gun over the cars and pulled out a revolver.
“Only had one belt.” He announced, almost to himself.
“Damn it, you’re right,” said Will.
“What? No, we’ve got plenty of ammo left.” Ronnie said beside him.
“It don’t matter how much
