The third walker, despite the gaping hole in its chest from Camellia’s rifle, and the flap of skin hanging from the side of its head from the girl’s faltered aim, moved on Woody. He hesitated, knowing that it had come too close for the girl to get an accurate shot without putting him in harm’s way. He could kill it, he was confident of this, but to do so would mean dropping Camellia.

Other walkers were getting up, having remembered how to put their withered limbs to good use. Stopping to dispatch the threat would give them time to surge on him, and then they’d both be dead.

“Cam? You gonna take that thing out?” he shouted; his heart thudding into his ear drums.

Camellia shook her head, “I can’t, this piece of shit’s jammed.”

Woody took a second to note the irony; Camellia looked after that weapon well, always cleaning and polishing it with the passion worthy of a creepy red neck. The fact it had jammed was nothing short of the world laughing in both their faces. In the end, he resigned himself to pulling his trapped friend with everything he had. She was coming free from her prison of wood and rotted flesh, but not quickly enough.

“Come on, come on, come on,” screeched Camellia, turning her rifle around to use as a club; though in her prone, upright position, it would do little good fulfilling such a purpose.

The walker lurched forwards, and fell on Cemllia; she shrieked and smashed it in the face with the butt of her rifle, but then it was on her. Jaws snapping, it reached for her flesh with the terrible strength of someone who felt no pain or exhaustion. Woody reacted.

Dropping Camellia, he grabbed the walker by its wiry hair and hauled it from her. A pair of hands grabbed him from behind, but his ancient biceps, swollen with a lifetime of dedication, shrugged them off.

His forehead collided with his foe, sending it sprawling to the ground. Then he turned, picking up a part of the ruined fence as he did so, and swung it at the zombie that had grabbed him. Its head made a sickening pop as the wood caved in the side of its skull, spewing black liquid and pink porridge onto the grass. He had only a moment to savour this small victory, as a dozen of the walkers’ comrades pounced on him.

Woody was strong for a senior; he’d benched iron since the age of 14. A steel worker for most of his adult life, his lungs were no stranger to exertion, and the muscles that hadn’t been perfected in some immaculate San Francisco gym had been hardened through the nature of his work. A man a third his age would struggle to best him in a feat of raw physical strength, and this was something that often stayed the old man’s pride as he edged ever nearer to his own funeral.

Walkers were strong too though. They felt no pain, they never tired, and they were always intent on getting what they wanted. He smashed the skull of another, breaking his impromptu weapon the process, and resolved to shoulder a second head over heels. Then they got him.

A searing pain caught his right upper arm, and Woody howled in both terror and rage. He crushed the creature’s face with his two large fists, and went about unleashing a ‘dead man’s’ resolve on several more. Again and again, he launched his God-given weapons into the heads of rotting flesh, pummelling them; cutting his skin and mingling his blood with theirs. There was no turning back now.

With eight or nine motionless on the ground, he had created breathing space. His body ached all over, and not just from the exertion of killing so many walkers with nothing but his own muscles; the infection had gotten him. Fire pulsed from his arm, and the split skin on his knuckles stung as if someone had poured vinegar onto them. There was nothing for it now.

Turning, he heaved aside a corpse holding down the fencing on top of Camellia. Then he pulled up a fence panel, and another, until the girl’s badly bloodied legs were visible. Another walker grabbed him from his blindside, sinking its teeth into his neck. Without looking at his attacker, he reached back with his hands, grabbed the waxy flesh of its head, and pulled hard; there was a gurgling pop, and the zombie fell minus a brain.

Camellia had already scrambled away, picking up the black box she’d risked so much for. Upon seeing it through hazy eyes, Woody understood why: it was a car battery, and in good condition too. With that, the group stood a chance of commandeering one of the many abandoned husks dotting the neighbourhood.

“Good girl,” he wheezed.

The moans of the dead answered him, not just from behind, but also down the road where the pursuing horde had multiplied into a hundred strong. They saw his weakened form, and they hurried their shambling pace in anticipation. Once more, Woody acted.

He moved forwards, seeing the girl from the ambulance wobbling on her feet; not from an injury, but from exhaustion and probably hunger. He had erred in trusting her with his life, but then, he couldn’t have carried on in this nightmare world knowing he’d left Cam to get eaten alive. That was a fate he reserved for himself.

Snatching the gun from the girl’s trembling hands, he looked her hard in the eyes. “Don’t waste what I’m giving you; help my friend, get away from here, and LIVE.”

Turning to face the walkers surging through the ruined fence, and across the road, Woody howled at them. He fired his pistol at any that tried to grab him, and used it as a club when he was able.

Camellia limped to the girl’s side, clutching the battery under her arm. Breathing heavily, and with tears flowing from her eyes, she looked at her pleadingly.

“I didn’t mean for any of this,” she croaked. “Please help me.”

The sickening state of the world, and the things it had done to her, hadn’t made her the iron maiden she thought she was after all.

They seem trustworthy and smart. At least the girl. Marcus silently shakes his hand and reaches for his satchel, and opens it up. Offering them some of his rations, his canteen of water after he takes a swig, and an assortment of medicine.

"It's not much, but a good deed shouldn't go unrewarded. You didn't have to save me."

Marcus sits down near his bike, pulling out a map from his bag as well. Managing to trace the route from where they came. Although the sunlight is minimum he can make out that they are near Vermillion County. Not too far from Black Mountain, a day of riding maybe.

"So, where are you two from?"

#2

"The name's Levi." he informed Samantha, a shadow of a smile on his face. "Well, I could do with some kind of disinfectant. The peroxide would have done the job but I used up my entire supply roasting those walkers."

"Walkers weren't the only thing you set on fire." reprimanded Lily. "That forest fire could have killed the rest of us too."

"It wasn't going to spread faster than we could run, trust me, I knew what I was doing." he said, skilfully hiding the uncertainty he felt in his answer.

"Hm. Fine... thanks." she replied awkwardly. "Consider this a token of our appreciation. Callie, can you bring me your backpack?"

Callie, who had been sitting cross-legged in the corner of the room, stood up nervously and grabbed her backpack, hurriedly making her way over to Lily. She held it out in front of her with both hands, her confusion dissipating at the sight of her older sister's reassuring smile.

---

Evelyn gasped as Scarlett plunged her blade into the child's skull and retracted it, causing thick and viscuous crimson to bubble up and drip down to the floor, pooling around her face. She heard Scarlett say something but did not listen, silently watching her leave the basement. Once she was gone, Evelyn crouched down next to the body and picked her up. At least Scarlett had granted her peace.

She walked over to the corner of the room and propped the child up against the corner. There was no time for a burial and, even if there was, it seemed like an egregiously mawkish sentiment. Would she now hold a candle-lit funeral for every walker she came across? This was what the world had become, and she would simply have to get used to it.

She retrieved the towel that Scarlett had used to wipe the girl's blood off her dagger and draped it over her motionless body, ensuring that she was completely covered. A hopeless sigh escaped her lips as she climbed back up the stairs, giving the corner of the room one last glance. Good. The towel had completely obfuscated her from view.

No one would have to disturb, or indeed, be disturbed by, her slumber.

---

"Everything alright?" asked Levi as Evelyn came into the living room.

"Fine." she replied dully. "How bad is it?" she asked, pointing at Levi's exposed calf resting on the tabletop in front of the couch. The burn didn't look too threatening but this may have been due to the layer of cream covering it.

"Second-degree burn but it's not a big deal." he said with a blase cadence. "I'm lucky Sam saved me when she did."

Evelyn nodded silently and rested her back against the wall next to the doorway, a glum expression on her face as she stared at the ground.

Levi sat up in on the couch and began to wrap a thin layer of bandages around his leg. The only sound in the room was the unrolling of the gauze as an impenetrable and solemn silence descended upon the group. Here they were, strangers, sheltering in an abandoned house from a hopeless world.

#3

It all felt so hopeless. No matter how many shots she fired, no matter how many zombie fell, more and more kept coming. Firing a gun probably wasn't helping either. She watched in a mix of fascination and awe as Woodrow fought with his fists and impromptu weapons. He was so strong, the sort of strength Kylie strived to be, and he was likely killing more zombie with his fists then Kylie could with the entire artillery of the army. Kylie watched in horror as Woodrow was overtaken by the undead. It really was hopeless. Kylie was bitterly reminded that no one lived forever, especially during the end of all days.

Kylie watched as Camella scrambled out from under the fence, and she didn't seem to be in the best shape. Kylie couldn't tell what she was holding, but whatever it was must have been important. As Woodrow approached her Kylie forced herself to make eye contact, no matter how intimidated she was by him. His words hit her hard. She nodded quickly. “Yes Sir.” She spoke, struggling to find strength in herself.

She watched as Woodrow turned back to the hoard of zombies, firing and shouting as they surrounded them. He was creating the perfect distraction for the two girls to escape. Kylie could see the limp in Cambella's leg, reminding herself of the similar pain in her leg. But right now Camella needed the support, physically and mentally. She had to be strong. She was being entrusted with the life of another, and this time she wasn't going to mess up. Kylie moved to Camella, looking her in the eye with as much will as she could muster. “Take a deep breath. We are getting out of here. Lean on me.”

Kylie wasted no time waiting for Camella to respond. “Hold onto that...thing...” Kylie said, gesturing to the car battery. Kylie took one of Camella's arms and put it around her own shoulder, then wrapped her arm around Camella's waist to support as much of her weight as possible. “I'm gonna try and get us to someplace safe, and then we can look for the rest of your friends.” Kylie walked slowly as she dared as she helped Camella walk. She could only hope she could make some sense out of the medical equipment she had gotten from the ambulance. “It's gonna be okay. It's gonna be okay...it's gonna be okay.” Kylie began whispering, maybe to settle her own nerves as she led Camella along the road.

She didn't dare look back.

#1

The awkward silence between the two was intoxicating. You can't recreate awkward silences when conversing with yourself, and if you can, you're past the point of alone and well-and-truly in deranged. Welcome to Insanity, Population: As many as you can dream up. So he cherished the moments of reverberating bat wings in the high metal rafters of the Wal-Mart and ghost-town breeze billowing through the desolate aisles. The bitter early-Autumn wind no longer bit at his fingers and toes. God rays blessed the filthy entrance. But there was the tiniest seed of doubt in the back of his mind. It didn't grow into a twisted, wretched plant, but it never seemed to sink into the soil to never bear fruit, it sat there, pulsing, begging for attention. She'll kill you Dan. Chop you up. Eat you. Feed you to Zed. Use your helmet as a crapper. No she won't. Yes she will. She's eyeing your chest. She's going to plant your shiny knife between your ribs and tickle your lungs with it. She can't. She will. She'll heave your ribcage apart while you are still screaming and cook them. She'll sit you up so you can watch her lick off every strand of muscle. No... She won't... After that she'll pick your eyes out with a splinter of wood. Then she'll shit in your sockets and let the infection set in, and giggle away watching the burning agony from your skull break away your reason to live. "What book is that?"

"Chicago?" The last time Metro was in Chicago was for the Blitzkrieg Clan Warfare event in which the Shadow Fury Clan won (as they had for the past seven campaigns) by sending out skirmishing parties to each of the five other clan's (all of whom Dan knew hated each other vehemently) and baiting them into attacking the SFC's headquarters through various tactics. However, Dan and his XO, Luke Winters had set up a magnificently staged HQ and ordered a quarter of their force to go about business as if it was their real HQ. The other combat groups spotted each other and what happened after that was the most magnificent display of paintballing ever; as if a daycare of children were released on the world and started launching paint at everything. When the fray was at it's peak, Dan ordered his remaining soldiers to split into six groups; five of sweepers, who would sneak up behind their targets and take out the enemy in a glorious second of pure destruction. The sixth group was the best shots in the Clan: they would head up the middle of the fray exactly thirty seconds after each group had attacked their targets and take out any runners or hiders. It was nearly a 30% fatality rate for the Shadow Fury Clan, their highest yet, but has become renowned the paintballing world over as the Rainbow War, and remembered fondly for it's intense multi-coloured carnage by those who were there. The Blitzkrieg event earned the SFC their nickname, the Rainbow Brigade. Cate, his girlfriend for nearly four years at the time, laughed at him. Never maliciously, but she enjoyed seeing him getting so excited over the hobby of playing toy guns with hundreds of other men-children. She enjoyed seeing the gleam of complete nirvana that his father could so easily wipe away with a single twitch of that replica-Tom Selleck mustache. "It's a bit of a shit-hole," the thought of Ellie dropping a deuce in his sockets runs through his mind, "but I heard the radio thing too. You really think it's not overrun?"

"I'll take you up on the offer of food, but I think I'm okay for sleep the now. I've been in a state of insomnia for five-ish days now, I don't think I would wake up," he half-joked. "We can rest wherever you want buddy, I'm sure I can build a nice little fort out of the crap around here. It would be marvelous! With turrets! And slaves to toil the fields!" Metro exuberantly said, hands raised like he was raising a body from the dead. Maybe he did raise the Zeds. Maybe he shouldn't have jacked off in the shower so much. Maybe he should've recycled more. He dropped his hands. Maybe the Zeds were his spawn. "Of course I'll go, I couldn't refuse an offer like that from a pretty girl like you, could I?"

#2

Samantha nodded as Levi told her what he needed. " 'm going to go find a jacket before I forgot.

"Where's she going?" Scarlett watched as her sister ran up the stairs and turned to Levi. "The house is secured so no one will just barge in here." She walked over to one of the couches and sat, shrugging her backpack off. "Are y'all hungry?" She brought her backpack on to her lap and opened it, digging in it for a moment. "Here!" She grinned and took out two power bars. "I know it's not what kids typically eat but it has protein in it and I'm guessing y'all had been running for while before you caught up to us. My little brother loved the chocolate ones.. Sam would always buy them and send them to him when he asked for them. I know, it's not really the best idea to give a kid a protein bar.... He's the only kid I knew that liked them." She passed the food over to the young girls and leaned into the couch once they took it.

Samantha skipped down the stairs shrugging the cost on, smiling to herself a bit. "This House is nice... Much more sturdy than the cabin we were in.... We can set up a watch while we sleep..." As Samantha spoke, she grew quiet at the sound of heavy footsteps on a wooden floor. Her eyes darted to every person in the room, getting accountability of the small group. "No one is supposed to be outside."

By this time Scarlett was now on her feet as well, quietly listening. "Men's voices." She whispered, turning to the others, her eyes wide with fear as she looked at the young girl. "Both of you need to hide. Take her to the basement." The sound of footsteps grew louder and seemed to grow in numbers. Once the footsteps stopped, the sound of guns being loaded filled the air, "One, two three, four? There's four of them." For once, Samantha didn't know what to do. Before, the twins would easily slip out through a window or off a balcony, now not only did they have four others with them, one was a child. Maybe if all of them were her age, she wouldn't feel as guilty for leaving them behind, but she'd never leave a child behind.

#5

Haleigh and Joe took the canteen and drank from it, and obtaining their reward, put it in the storage compartments of their bikes.

Both of them plopped down near their bikes, forming a sort of biker triangle while Haleigh, after putting away her blowtorch, sighed in relief; he wasn't that much of a threat. "We're from North Carolina. Came here mainly through the interstate after riding our way through a small part of the Appalachian mountains."

"So, where you headed, buddy? Black Mountain? Because that's what we're gunning for- 'the last American bastion for the human race'."

#5

"Same here, been taking my time however, no matter where you go that you think is good enough to call home they'll find a way to breach it you know. Just a matter of time before that place gets taken over too. I'm surprised you guys didn't try to hit up a prison or something in the west coast, I figured the Eastern State Penitentiary would have held up nicely against Zed."

Marcus grabs some of his rations and consumes a mouthful. As he quietly chews, he reaches over for his canteen and takes another swig of water from it. With a satisfying gulp and grunt, he looks over at Haleigh, eyeing where she put the blowtorch away. That could come in handy, no, no he's not going to steal it from her. Do not what the others did to him in the past, as a matter of fact he realized he never gave his name. Who cares if they manage to reach Black Mountain alongside him he'll tell it to them then.

"So do you two know how to get to Black Mountain from here?"

#2

A hail of bullets came crashing through the window and the group instinctively ducked and flattened themselves against the floor. Lily shielded Callie's body with her own while Evelyn and Levi both covered their heads with their arms. In the distance and in the midst of the deafening ringing, Levi thought he heard the sound of two doors shutting. Unless he was mistaken, and he truly hoped he was, this signaled that they were surrounded.

A few short seconds later, he looked up to confirm his worst fears; there were at least ten raiders surrounding them, firearms drawn and pointing at the six of them. He felt his heart sink as Callie let out a terrified squeal, clearly signalling that she saw what he had.

"Come on, get the fuck up!" commanded the ostensible ringleader, malevolent green eyes peering out through the dirt mask encapsulating his face.

There was a black eye-patch covering his right eye and he was sporting some kind of erratic mohawk. Levi recognised the hair style; this man was a member of the 27s, a murderous gang of ruffians that had been terrorising the Naperville area and were formed soon after the outbreak begun.

He had assumed that the rest of the men present would be under this man's command but that did not seem to be the case, judging by their vastly different appearances. The 27s all had similar haircuts, but some of this man's company were bald and sporting swathes of tattoos on their faces. Others looked completely normal, able to be construed as typical survivors unless you didn't miss the evil glint in their eyes.

"I said get the fuck up!" he commanded once again, kicking Lily hard in the ribs.

"OK, OK, stop!" pleaded Evelyn, slowly getting up to her feet as Lily cried out in pain, barely able to stand up.

"Well, well, what do we have here?" he said, with malicious relish as he approached Lily and Callie. "This one's all mine! Kid'll fetch a real nice price on the market."

Levi, now upright, bit his lip hard in an effort to not throw up at the ringleader's implication. How had this happened? Things had been just fine mere minutes ago. It seemed now that America, in its infinite cruelty, showed no lenience for complacency.

"She's not going anywhere!" retorted Lily, attempting firm defiance but ruining the facade by wincing at the pain in her ribs. If it wasn't for Callie's arms around Lily's waists, she would have fallen back down by now.

"Who wants the loud one?" asked the ringleader over his shoulder.

"We'll take her." said a large, bald and tattooed raider. "Boss needs a new whore after he killed the last one."

The lumbering giant made his way over to Lily and grabbed her roughly by the hair, pulling her over to the other two members of their smaller group as she screamed and flailed desperately.

Calliope stood rooted to the spot, sobbing quietly and watching, wide-eyed, as the men dragged away the only person she had left in the world.

"Good choice." cackled the ringleader. "I'll take-"

"Fuck you, Thorne. We're next, that was the agreement!" said a heated voice belonging to one of the 'normal' looking raiders.

"Alright, alright, just hurry the fuck up."

The man who had just voiced his disapproval to Thorne approached the twins, looking them up and down like a butcher inspecting a cut of meat. He cocked his revolver's hammer back and pointed it at Scarlett's forehead.

"This one's ours." he stated, side-stepping her and wrapping an arm around her throat as he led her over to the back of his group at gun-point.

#5

Haleigh groaned. "No. We lost the map a short time after we entered Chicago. Do you?."

Joe was leaning back, staying quiet as Marcus suggested the prison-fort and Haleigh groaned about how he lost the map. He was contemplating something that was pretty thought provoking. "...Can zombies swim?"

"What kind of remedial----Wait a minute, you were in Chicago? What the hell are you two doing so far south in Vermilion County then?"

Marcus looks at both of them as if they were crazy, they were near salvation, just had to look for the big tower in the sky, but somehow they made a wrong turn and ended up 10 miles outside of Danville, Illinois. This news staggered him so much he didn't know what to do, if he stuck with them he would probably end up dead. If he left them here they would die and he would probably live, but it's not like him to leave people who saved his life alone to die for his own selfish gains, no matter how much they lack in navigating.

"When was the last time you were in Chicago?"

Before he could hear the answer, the familiar sound of Zed could be heard and the sun finally hides behind the trees.

"No time to answer now, let's go."

Marcus grabs his valuables, packs his satchel and hops on his bike and starts it up. He wheelies off towards a new dirt road, looking back hoping the two follow."

#1

The way that Metro had tensed up upon the idea of visiting Chicago made her nervous. He went silent once again, not as long as before, but long enough. If only she could see what he was thinking...Or at least see the reactions on his face. Hands entwined together, fingertips nervously dancing over one another, Ellie waited with baited breath for him to say no. He didn't. Though what was given instead wasn't much of an answer.

Perhaps it was an overrun shit-hole. But, it was also her last hope. If it really had nothing left, she would be heartbroken. Chicago was the only twinge of hope left in her lithe frame, the reason she still gave herself for getting up every god-forsaken morning. "Maybe it is..." She sighed, closing her eyes briefly. Her hands stopped their nervous dance. Long lashes lifted to reveal stormy green eyes, vibrant and hopeful. "But there's also a chance it isn't. A chance that there might be something...anything left of the world." She stopped, her voice growing softer with each word she spoke. Yet still passionate. She had to believe it, it was the one of the few things that kept her going now.

Narrowing her eyes when he turned down sleep, even after admitting he hadn't had any for five nights, she could only nod and accept it. She wasn't in any position to go all mother on him now, but she did fear that it would affect his performance. She shook her head in distaste at his whole slave tending remark, but she did enjoy the light-hearted humor otherwise. She opened her mouth to speak once more, but was stunned silent. Her mouth still gaping slightly open. Had Metro just...complimented her? She was trying to catch herself, a slow blush tainting her cheeks. Sticking out against the blonde of her hair, and fair complection.

"I...I um.." She faltered, for the first time in quite a while, she faltered in her speech. Slightly nervous now, Ellie went to get backup, searching her brain. She practically shouted, "EDGAR ALLAN POE, THE RAVEN"
If it wouldn't have made her look more of the fool she felt like, she would've smacked herself in the face. Well, why stop now?
"I-It-it's about darkness, and basically death. But.." She cleared her throat roughly, regaining her bearing little by little. "It also has a deep layer of truth, and strength. A hidden context within the darkness, that allows for something to fight against it. Though in the end of the story it seems dreadful, there's always that little glimpse of hope that's sprinkled in." She gave a quick, small smile.

Sighing, she took out a can of chili from her bag. It was cold, but she doubted it would lack in flavor. Way to go, hotshot. She chided herself on her earlier behavior, something she swore she wouldn't let happen again. She was caught off guard was all, and he was just being polite. That was all. Holding up the can, she held her bag slightly tighter as she walked closer to Metro, green eyes wary. "Well, we should probably eat here then, and we can gather what we can before heading out." She smirked at the dark mask teasingly, "Who knows...Maybe you'll find something for that fortress you told me about."

That said, she strode past him to the corner of the Walmart, raising a brow at his homemade watchtower. With a shrug, she carefully deposited her bag on the floor next to her before sitting on the ground herself. Pulling out her switchblade, she dug into the top of the can and proceeded to open it, wasting no time. Risking a glance up at her new companion- hoping he wouldn't notice her stare, she began to carve his image into her brain. All for strategic purposes, of course. That's all, she told herself. Averting her gaze, she focused once more on their can.

When the lid of the can popped open, she smiled brightly and looked up to Metro, quickly letting him know that it was ready. Sure, it wasn't warm... But she didn't really have a way to fix that. Pulling out her bowl, she took only a small scoop of the chili. That done, she closed her blade and held out the can of chili to him. "Here, I figure you could use more than me anyway. Like you said earlier, I'm not starving anytime soon." She smiled kindly up at him, patting a place on the tile next to her. An invitation, should he wish to accept.

#5

"...Are we not in Chicago?", Joe asked confused. Haleigh groaned yet again. Damn it. They were there, and now, they are not.

Seeing Marcus suddenly get on his bike and hearing the zombies and their incoming incessant moaning, Joe and Haleigh followed suit, riding closely behind their new comrade.

#2

As the bullets came crashing in, the twins went straight to the deck, their hands covering their heads as a million and one profanities left their mouths. Once the shooting had stopped, that's when the shouting began.

As soon as they began commanding them to get up, they both rose slowly to their feet, fear written all over their faces.

As if it wasn't bad enough, the blow to Lily's side felt like someone was kicking Samantha. She tried to bite her tongue and hold back her words until she heard the comment on Callie. "How fucking dare you!" The words came out of her like venom, her glare cutting right through them. If only looks could kill. "She's a fucking child!" All though she looked like she was about to jump, she merely stood there with her hands balled up into fists, tears on the verge of spilling over from the pure anger.

What Samantha feared most came true. One of the men began walking their way and she turned to look at her sister whose faced mirrored hers. "I won't let them." Scarlett shook her head and touch Samantha's face, trying to dry the tears off.

"This one's ours." The voice echoed in Samantha's head as the man looked at her sister like a piece of meat. She looked at him long and hard, remembering every single detail about him, before he began to walk off with Scarlett. She didn't even put up a fight. "I will find you and skin you alive!" By that point she didn't care if the tears ran wildly down her face because everything else about her portrayed irateness.

#2

The other raiders began to holler and hoot, raucous laughter filling the room. Levi felt his hands curl into fists at their reaction to Samantha's defiance. These were sick, sick people who found splitting up loved ones to be highly amusing.

"You're gonna skin me alive?" he repeated, an incredulous sneer on his face.

"Yo!" came the call of one of his companions. "The boss ain't gonna like hearing you got disrespected and let it go."

"That's right. In our camp, respect is more important than anything else." he informed her, a malicious smile beginning to form on his face. "A lot more important than this bitch's life."

The man clamped down hard on Scarlett's nose with his thumb and index finger, causing her lips to part. As soon as they did, he roughly jammed the gun he had been holding to her temple into her mouth instead.

"If you wanna see what the inside of her head looks like, keep being a tough girl. Otherwise, get on your fucking knees, kiss my boots and apologise. And after you do that, tell us all what a good whore you're going to be for your future master."

His eyes flashed with malevolence as he forced the gun further into Scarlett's mouth, finger held firmly against the trigger.

"Fuck it, kill her anyway!" cackled Thorne.

"I believe in second chances." replied the man slyly.

Levi and Evelyn's gaze met for a brief moment and, although there were no words exchanged, they could both feel each other's unbridled rancour against these people. They had turned their lives upside down in an instant and, at this point, the two of them would have cherished the opportunity to torture every single one of the raiders participating in this morbid and sadistic game.

#2

Samantha kept her glare on the man even as the others laughed at her threat. She didn't care about them; At the moment her tunnel vision was set on the pathetic excuse of a man in front of her with her sister.

Her eyes widened as he shoved the muzzle of the weapon in her mouth, taking half a step forward but stopping. "No, don't!" Her voice was softer but her glare still remained. She heard the mans offer for her to keep her sister alive and her jaw dropped. She stared at him for what seemed like an eternity, but in reality has only about twenty seconds. Biting her lip, she slowly got to her knees. She had clenched her hands into fists with such strength, that her nails had cut through her palms and the blood had began dripping.

The process seemed to take forever as her pride fought against her submitting. She grimaced before kissing the boot and did it fast enough to where if he wanted to kick her, he wouldn't have enough time.

She stood up once more and returned her glare to the man, her hands trembling slightly, tears running down her face once again. She couldn't believe she had just done that in front of not only Levi and Evelyn, but in front of the young girls. It killed her for them to see her like this, and it completely tore her to pieces when she began repeating the man, "I'm sorry, I won't do it again.... I'll be a good whore for my future master."

She gave Scarlett and apologetic look before closing her eyes and breathing deeply, trying not to break down in front of the group of thugs.

Levi and Evelyn refused to look at the scene, not wanting to make things worse for Samantha by witnessing her abject humiliating. Callie, on the other hand, was so consumed with fear that she couldn't avert her eyes, whimpering in terror as Samantha kissed the boots of one of their captors.

Levi could feel pulsing in his head, so inundated with frustration that he felt his skull might explode. He couldn't help but notice Calliope's reaction to the entire ordeal and knew that she was beyond scared. If someone as strong as Samantha could be made to submit to these cretins, what chance did a little girl have?

"Very entertaining, bravo!" commented Thorne as the man pulled the gun out of Scarlett's mouth and returned to his group, winking at Samantha before he left.

Levi, barely able to form his thoughts into a coherent order, suddenly realised that his worst fear had come to pass. The three different groups had selected their first slaves and neither he nor Evelyn had been chosen. No matter what happened, they would be split up. This was the last time he'd ever see her again.

"On to the rest of the slaves, now. I'll take the guy, we don't have many man whores back at the camp."

Levi's eyes widened at the implication, to which Thorne laughed even harder.

"Relax, little girl. We don't have a market big enough for that. We'll probably just use you for meat. Come along."

His legs carried him over to what he presumed was Thorne's group since they shared similar haircuts. He stared down at the floor, feeling his skin heat up as the men around him guffawed at his expense.

"We'll take the other twin." said the large, bald man who had previously picked Lily. Almost as soon as he finished his sentence, his henchmen grabbed Samantha by her arms and led her to him.

"How cruel, you split the family up." remarked the man responsible for humiliating Samantha earlier. "Oh well, I have no problems taking the redhead home. Awfully quiet, aren't you sweetheart?"

The man approached her and grabbed her by the hand, attempting to pull her over to his group. To his surprise, she didn't budge.

"Come on." he commanded impatiently.

Evelyn responded with no words but with the most withering glare she could muster. The man swiftly backhanded her across the face and grabbed her by the hair, forcing her to look at him by pulling her neck back.

"Answer me when I talk to you!" he snarled at her, specks of saliva flying all over Evelyn's face.

"GET THE FUCK OFF HER!" roared Levi, finally hitting his breaking point.

He lunged forward at the man with his hands outstretched, almost reaching him until the butt of a rifle collided hard against his jaw and sent him tumbling to the floor. Blood poured out of his mouth and onto the floor as he groaned in pain, Evelyn's face swimming in and out of his vision until everything went dark.

-End of Scenario #2-

Camellia’s left leg felt like shattered glass and fire. It was broken, there was no doubt; she’d been so stupid! Suddenly Hannah’s constant barrage of strategies, weapon load outs, team plans and call signs made sense. Her impulsive nature had killed Woody, possibly the last man in the world she felt anything towards, and had probably doomed herself and the hapless stranger in the process.

“I can’t believe Hannah and Oskar just left us,” she whined, leaning heavily on the girl to prevent her damaged leg from literally imploding on itself. “We could have gotten out of there, why would she run?”

In truth, Camellia knew why. Hannah was a soldier, and had survived the last six months by obeying survival’s simple rules. When a situation stood to cost more than it would give, it was time to bail, and Hannah had followed that notion to its destined outcome. Woody was dead, but it wasn’t the former Apache pilot’s fault. It was Camellia’s, for going into unknown territory without alerting anyone.

She’d also fired her gun. She had to. The walker saw her, and she was cornered. Though now look; the street was thick with them, and they weren’t making enough distance to lose them. Not for the first time since her father’s estate got ransacked by those fucking bastards in their stupid red bandanas, Camellia wanted to die.

***

Hannah pulled pack the curtain, wincing at the clumps of dried gore spattered on the window pane. There was movement outside, and lots of it.

“That stupid girl,” she muttered under her breath.

Woody was dead, there was no doubt about it. She’d heard him howl in pain, and in rage. Had heard his gun go off eight times, before falling silent, then all she could hear was the rising chorus of moans.

Oskar was in the corner, having pulled an old dinner chair in front of him to freak out in privacy. Woody was a good man, the two had much in common, and got along well. Now he was gone, killed by his own selflessness, or perhaps his suicidal tendencies. Oskar had wanted to help, to turn back and save the old timer, but he had to find his family. To find his family, he had to survive. As much as he hated to admit it to himself, those who he had fought and lived alongside were little more than a means to an end. They offered protection from the dead, and a chance of him locating his family. They were expendable so long as he lived.

Hannah stepped back from the window, uttering curses and checking her rifle. “That bitch has got a car battery,” she snapped.

Oskar suddenly perked up, “so we could get out of here?”

“She – they – won’t make it. The dead are circling them,” she sighed, “maybe we could get them out of there, maybe not. IF the dead follow, then this shitty little suburban crap house isn’t going to protect us for shit. Fuck my life.”

“Perhaps we could get them in here quietly?” asked Oskar, pulling himself to his feet. “Wave at them or something?”

The former pilot shook her head. “The dead would see them and follow. We need a distraction.”

Oskar walked across the kitchen, and looked out the flimsy backdoor. “I could get into nextdoor’s garden and fire my rifle? That’d lure them away?”

Hannah nodded, “might work, might not. If we get surrounded here though, we’re gonna be KIA pretty damned quickly.”

“Then we run for all we’re worth. I – we – need that car battery,” Oskar affirmed, cocking his rifle. “I will go. You stay.”

“Negative,” Hannah shot back, “it’s too risky. We leave them. Once the dead are done feasting, they’ll get bored and wander off. That’ll be our chance to secure the objective and get ourselves the fuck out of FUBAR land.”

Oskar’s conscience wavered, if only for a moment, and as he turned to put his rifle down on the counter, he gasped.

Hannah was quick, knowing that sound for what it was: shock, surprise, danger. Her rifle was up before her brain had even registered what she was doing. A whole year in the Zulu Alpha had worn her down a little, whittled away the discipline that had kept her alive for so long, and without a millisecond for logic, she fired.

The walker’s head exploded as a trio of 5.56mm NATO rounds imploded its skull, covering Oskar in thick black blood, as well as other sickly substances. The echo of her rifle carried on for what seemed like moments.

The herd reacted with its usual enthusiasm for sudden loud noises. Dozens left the converging horde on the road, and collided with the house’ meagre picket fence. Hannah cursed herself over and over and over and over again, but it was no use dwelling on her lapse in discipline.

“Go loud,” she said, standing back from the window.

Oskar looked at her quizzically, still shaken by his near-undeath experience from the surprise walker. He wiped the back of his hand across his face, to clear some of the muck from his eyes.

“It means: FIRE!” She shouted, “kill them, kill them all!”

“We don’t have enough bullets!” Cried Oskar, fumbling with his weapon.

“No, but we’ll have enough to clear a path,” she said.

Hannah’s rifle released its pent up rage at the window, blasting the glass into nothingness. The undead on the other side, who had by now clambered to their feet, were obliterated from the jaw upwards. She was a good shot, collected and cool, and she took her time to pop each skull with the accuracy of a dedicated marksman. She’d never used her rifle much in her former life, but since everything went to shit, she was a natural.

She moved to the front door, and Oskar quickly followed. Opening it in one fluid movement, she found multiple shambling hostiles on the front porch. Six paced taps of the trigger sent them to the ground. Then she advanced at a casual pace, paying little heed to the dead as their faceless grey mass turned in her direction.

The girls were up ahead, almost enveloped and cut off. Hannah made quick time in quite literally cutting a path through the walkers, putting them down left and right; Oskar helped by shouting out warnings of dead on her blindside.

“Put them down then, God damnit,” she had yelled back.

Within a minute since they’d left the defunct safety of the house, Hannah and Oskar were with Camellia and the girl.

“We’re bugging out of here,” said Hannah to both of them. “We’re going to need to be quick though.”

She noted Camellia’s busted leg, and gave Oskar a hard glance. He complied, and quickly shouldered his rifle. He then picked Camellia up in both his arms, despite her squirming.

“I hope you can run, ma’m,” said Hannah, looking at the girl. “Because this is the last time I come back for you.”

The group moved off eastwards, following the road. The herd pursued them, howling their frustration.

#4

Wade heard a man yell from outside for him to come out with his hands up. His reaction was to simply raise both hands up, and only two fingers out of ten reached towards the sky. "Whatever. We're all looking for some good shit. I'm not stepping out there, and I don't give an honest shit if you come inside this gas station. It's yours as much as it is mine." He yelled back out. "Balls to it, if I like you, I might even share a pinch of dip with you, so fuck all and come on in." He continued. "And lastly, if there's any more dip lying around, it's MINE." He was having a little trouble talking, as he was containing the dip in his lower lip.

Wade spat on the floor and waited with his hands in the air and back turned. "You can see my hands and that I'm not threatening you, but I'm not stepping outside." He had good reason not to. There was a fishing wire that crossed the opening of the doorway. It was a makeshift trap that Wade always laid out before entering a building. It would simply deter someone a little on the way in, before they hit the Christmas tree ornaments, old motor oil, the legos, and the jingle bells. It was a quick trap he laid out, before thoroughly scavenging a building(as he would certainly be distracted by his work).

The old man would, no doubt, see the trap before coming in, as it was something more to detect the presence of ghouls. If he wanted to trap living humans, he would have shrink wrapped the doorway.

Wade had no intention of leaving the building, as it was a bit safer than being outside. The area appeared to be ghoul free, but that could change, after a few gunshots. God knows what could bring in a few gunshots.

"What do you say, sir?" He asked.

#3

This was going from bad to worse in only a matter of minutes. Kylie worked with all of her strength to keep Camella off her leg. But they weren't walking fast, and the dead were walking much faster. Kylie had started hyperventilating, her vision blurring. She was going to die. And in this moment Kylie wondered if she wanted to die. Was her need to survive stronger then the undead desire to eat. A horrible guilt washed over Kylie as she realized that she had never told Woodrow her name. She had only known him for a very, very, short time. But Kylie couldn't help but feel like her untrusting nature had gotten the best of her.

Kylie frantically tried to dispel the guilt. He had commanded her to get his friend out alive. And she was going to do just that. Even if it killed her.

“I'm sure your friends didn't want to leave you.” Kylie spoke in a winded voice. “When people get scared they do crazy things.” Kylie sounded exhausted, like she couldn't get enough air to speak. “I am sure once we find them, they will be so glad to see you alive.” Kylie knew she would be if she could see her friends alive and unharmed. And then she realized herself and Camella were barely alive and not at all well. They were getting surrounded, any gaps in the undead were quickly getting filled in by walkers.

Kylie tried to think of a way to get Camella out of this. She knew the girl couldn't walk, her leg proved this, and she had no gun to ward them off. Only a machete. That would be pointless to use. Without her full body movement she would be unable to do anything. They were trapped. Kylie wondered what would have happened if she decided not to leave with this group. Kylie fought back tears that stung her eyes, trying to keep herself strong in what might have been her final moments. She had no brave words, nothing. She always assumed her last words would be screaming as a walker tore her apart or a stranger shot her to death. She had only wished she planned something to say to the girl who was stuck in this mess with her.

She slowly shut her eyes, only hoping the pain would eventually go away. She continued to hold Camella, not wanting her to hurt her bad leg. And with that Kylie waited for the end. She at least hoped all of her friends would be at whatever place she ended up.

The sound of gunshots knocked Kylie out of her almost peaceful trance. Through tear filled eyes she could see the walkers falling around her. The other members of this girls group had showed up. Kylie wasn't sure if she was relieved or not. It was as if she was ready to die. She watched as Hannah and Oskar made their way through the hoard, eventually getting to them. With some relief she handed Camella off to Oskar, glad she would at least live. And after making sure Camella had whatever black box made her risk her life, she turned to Hannah.

The woman's words almost angered Kylie. If she hadn't been terrified out of her skin and crying she would have spoken up. Why did they chose to help out now instead of before. They could have gotten Camella out without any problem. No one had to die. Kylie didn't speak or even show emotion as she nodded to Hannah, following behind her with a limp in her leg. She glanced down at her ankle, noticing the blood seeping through her pant cuff. She would have to clean it later.