Miguel Ordornio was not a smart man. This much was true.

Flying through Washington in his commandeered SUV - to Hell with it, it's not like the owner was going to need it anytime soon - blaring out Led Zepplin and knocking down the odd shambler here and there for kicks, Miguel was living a life of excitement and ecstasy. The world had gone to crap, sure, but it had also created so much freedom. If he could just carry on avoiding being eaten, and carry on avoiding being shot, then what was the problem?

There wasn't one!

Until he lent forwards to snort the line of coke he'd found in the glove box. The owner of the SUV was a party creature of some kind, but judging by the baby seats in the back, maybe they were a little on the low key side of things. You know? Just used the stuff to perk up their Sunday morning church visits. In any case, of all the times he should have watched the road, that was one of them.

He didn't see what he hit, but it damn nearly stopped him instantly. The air bag deployed, the seatbelt tore into his chest, and suddenly the world was spinning and his stomach sunk. Then the SUV hit something else, and the spinning became a bit of a waltzer - as if he was in some kind of washing machine.

It ended with a splash and a searing pain in his face.

###6 Hours later###

He awoke to agony; his body racked with pain, from his feet to his head. He tried to make sense of everything, but the darkness wasn't helping. What had just happened? He put his hand down by his side, and realised for the first time that he was submerged in water from the waist down.

The realisation of the water's coldness jogged his memory. He'd hit something and crashed - must have been thrown over the bridge's barrier. As he struggled to release his seat belt, he heard whispered voices. Someone was nearby.

But did he care? He'd survived, though he'd have the scars to prove it for the rest of his day(s). Maybe it would be better if he just picked up his gun and carried on his entertainment. Not like tomorrow was worth living for, after all.

... but then something made him feel bad. His conscience? Had he just hurt some people? Maybe it'd be better if he checked it out first, just to make sure they were okay. And hey, if they weren't, it wasn't like there was any police around to come and arrest him was it?

Lifting himself out of the car with a grunt, Miguel started to muse at his options.

Alex - Car Wreck

Blackness. It seemed to last forever. In a sense, it was bliss. It was an escape from the never ending torment of his waking nightmares. He wanted to give in to the darkness and lay in peaceful slumber forever. Although something stopped him. A nagging feeling had sprouted in the depths of his mind and had begun to spread, the urgency of it increasing by the second. It told him he couldn't rest. Not yet.

As his mind emerged from the darkness, pain engulfed his body. Alex opened his eyes. It was dark. Shit. He was vaguely aware of the little girl's voice somewhere, but his head was spinning and his senses are distorted. What had happened? They escaped that school, he had met Roland, then... black. Dammit. It'd come back to him soon though, he was sure. One thing that was clear was the danger they were all in. As if to emphasize that, the groans of the undead traveled on the wind, a nightmarish symphony. Fuck. He needed to get everyone out.

It took Alex a few moments to realize just why his head was swimming so badly. He was upside down. Luckily, he'd been wearing his seat belt when whatever happened had happened, so he was dangling upside down, supported by the seat belt. For whatever reason, the airbag had deployed, but sagged down, a deflated mess. The impact must have popped it. He wasn't even aware that was possible... But hell. This wasn't too bad. He'd covered rollover drills in his basic training. Although to be honest, all it did was teach the obvious - supporting yourself, get your seat belt off, lower yourself down and get out the nearest exit. Putting one hand on the roof of the car, and pressing his legs out against the dashboard, he used his free hand to un-clip his seat belt. His seat belt fell limp, but he remained rigid where he supported himself. He gently lowered himself down and out of the already broken window in one slow, careful movement.

Crawling out of the vehicle, Alex slowly stood. His head spun and he almost lost his balance his vision hazed over. Taking a deep breath, he steadied himself. His limbs felt leaden and he was exhausted. He shook his head, dismissing the tiredness. He'd been through worse. He quickly patted himself down, checking for any injuries or bleeds. He was battered and bruised and had a cut on the side of his head (Which was no longer bleeding, but left the right side of his hair a sticky, matted mess), but aside from that, he'd gotten off lightly. His seat belt had saved him from any serious or permanent damage.

He couldn't see much around him due to the night sky, but the moon lit enough for him to work out what had happened. Judging by the skid marks and debris, they'd been hit by another car, which had then veered off the bridge. Jesus Christ. Purposely or not, that was the second living person that had tried to kill him today. Fan-fucking-tastic.

It was then he remembered the voice outside of the car. He slowly walked around the car, his limbs feeling heavy and wooden. He then saw the girl, who seemed to be trying to rouse someone in the car... Blondie? He made a mental note to himself to learn everyone's names if they got out of this. Alex approached her,

"Hey... Are you okay?"

His throat burned. He hadn't drunk any fluids since entering the school. Fumbling with one of his webbing pouches, he pulled out one of his full water bottles, taking a few disciplined sips before offering it to the girl. Should she accept, he'd tell her to sip and not guzzle the water. He then placed it back inside it's pouch, securing it shut.

He spoke in a hushed tone, his voice soft but still authoritative.

"We need to work together here, okay? Do you think you can try to keep a watch out for anything whilst I try to help everyone else? Do you still have your pistol?"

He gave her a moment to process what he'd said and answer before continuing;

"I'm Alex, by the way." He smiled at her, "You're going to be fine. You can do this. I believe in you."

Oy vey. My head.

Jesus-bleedin'-Christ, what happened?

Ow, not just my head. My everything. Ow.

Christ, why was I hurtin' so much?

It started comin' back to me in flashes. The cop car. We were in a cop car. We were escapin'. Goin' along fine.

Then we got hit by another car.

Of all the bleedin' things. Luck of the Irish my arse. And here I thought we could've gotten away with travelling in a vehicle away from the bloody school. Everything was starting to come back to me. Here I was, danglin' upside down in a crashed police car, blood pourin' down me forehead, achin' everywhere and not a bloody rest stop in sight. Wonder-fockin'-ful. Where were we? The last I remember, we were headin' away from the school after we'd picked up the other guy from the house that was shootin' at us, except he wasn't the one shootin' at us and he'd killed the original guy so we'd let him in, left Doris behind, dead. That reminded me.

Sophia.

I looked around, in a daze, and found her to my right, shakin' my shoulder 'n trying to get me to wake up, which I was. I cracked a smile and gave her a wave.

"Hey lass. I'm still hangin' around."

I chuckled. Grim humour in a grim bloody world.

Right, time for me to get out. I looked down (up) and found the clasp of me seat belt. Bracing for the worst, I jammed it with my finger and fell the few inches down to the roof of the car-

Ow. That hurt more than it should.

I tried to straighten myself and climbed out of the upside-down car. God that was awful, like being put through a washing machine, 'cept the thing was designed to pummel you silly, not wash your clothes to a sparkle shine. Aye, I hurt, but I guess so did everyone, 'specially little Sophia, poor lass. But we were here, 'n we were alive, that's all that mattered to me. It was night out, judging from how bloody dark the whole place was, and the only people I saw up were meself, Sophia, and Alex. The other two were still strapped up inside the car; our driver and the other gunman, still unconscious. I didn't know if we were to leave them behind or no, but whatever the case, I hoped they woke up soon, more heads equals less worry, 'specially with these two. I placed a hand on Sophia's shoulder and smiled to her, fighting past the aches of moving again.

"Aye lass, we're alive. Right bloody ride that was, but we're alright, eh?"

As far as I was concerned, all my gear was still with me, save the pipe that I'd thrown away back at the school. Me pack was ripped a little, but nothing it couldn't handle. We were alright, aye, but the question now was where were we? And where would safety be?

Black. Pure, and utter black. Garret's world swayed, band and forth, back and forth, back and forth, over and over again. And then there was light. Blinding light, filling his eyes with its cruel, merciless brightness. And yet, he didn't squint, or even blink. What had happened? Why could he not feel his body? Why were his breaths so weak? If for only an instant, he regained a bit of consciousness, and his eyes began to focus. There was grass poking through the wind shield? No, the wind shield was gone. But how did the grass get to the roof? Garret was then able to put two and two together, despite the fact that fog clouded his mind, and realize that he was upside down. He swung his head lazily to the left, eyeing the seatbelt hooked on his shoulder, keeping him off the ground. The airbag at the front was a sloppy mess, but it had deployed. So, why did he feel so weak? So, so weak. It felt like his legs were gone, and that his arms were heavier than lead.

Garret gritted his teeth, swinging his arms up to detach the seatbelt. By pure luck his palm struck the release, and he fell to the floor, landing on his backpack. He looked back down at his arm, seeing only red. So much red covered his arm. Then the dizziness hit him like a shock wave, reminding him that he was still very much alive. But not for long if he didn't act quickly. He threw off his backpack and pulled himself up off of the ground. He could hear mumbles in the back, but his mind was too weak to process anything. How much time had passed? How much blood had he lost? He opened a side compartment on his bag with lazy fingers, barely grasping onto the zipper with his ring finger and thumb, and there within lied his last hope. He pulled the plastic bag open, and seeing only crushed remains of the pill that lay within, he tilted his head back, and let the contents fall into his mouth. He then grabbed the nozzle on his water backpack and began to drink, seemingly pulling more life back into himself with each gulp.

He was alive and absolutely covered in red. He had cuts on his legs, cuts on his arms, and a deep gash where the seatbelt had stopped him from flying through the windshield. How much time had gone by? How long had he bled out? It may not matter anymore, but he knew he'd be more of a hindrance to these people than a help. Then he heard groans outside, and noticed that the three in the back were all awake. All except for Roland, who had apparently dispatched the sniper during the time at the school yard. He was unable to make out sounds, but noticed that one of them was offering water in the back. Garret grabbed his water backpack and threw it over to them with a weak toss.

"Hey... if you need water... drink this... hold onto what little you have"

Miguel

Miguel clutched his head, a small weary groan escaped his lips. He sat down, the stress hitting him in waves, legs shaking like thin branches in the wind. "What have I done?" he muttered "I-I might've made mistakes before b-but this was the dumbest thing." He looked at his bloodied hands, white powder smeared in the red. There was whispers in the air, telling him of people up on the bridge. The former veteran of war looked down on his vest, the words "Through hardship, to glory" etched on the stained blue Kevlar. The motto of the former 2nd Philippine Army Company

"Through hardship, to glory" Miguel said under his breath, getting himself up. He reached into the broken glass, grabbed his pack and opened it, revealing his carbine. "Thank God it isn't wet, this gun is a bitch to dry." He grabbed it out and pulled out a fresh clip, putting in it with a satisfying click. He put the strap on and let it dangle on his shoulder, taking care that the safety was on. The Filipino then grabbed his Beretta out and put it in his pocket, then shouldered his backpack.

Miguel grit his teeth together, pain stabbing his left shoulder. There was a cut on it, dried hours ago but it was still a cut. He ignored it and continued up a set of stairs in front of him, the whispers growing louder and louder. "Freaking hell. Why the hell did this happen to the world?" He muttered under his breath, walking on the road and then to his right and onto the bridge. It was a mess. An upside down car was to the side, a small flame to the right. He heard whispers but the recent concussion didn't serve well for his vision.

Something moaned behind him. He span, Beretta locked and loaded. It was a shambler, around 10 feet away. A shuffler it might seem, can't really do much. Deeming the shambler not a threat, he continued towards the wreckage, the corner of his eye watching the decaying corpse behind him, ever watching him. He called out, enough for the people in front of him to notice but not enough for the shamblers to freak out. He lowered his Beretta. "Hey! I don't mean any harm but I think I crashed into you. Are you guys okay? I'm local SWAT, I was separated from my unit. Any chance you guys going to Easton?"

Four weeks prior
Washington D.C.
Mercy Hospital
3:40 pm

Roland held the MPK5 tightly in his hands as he stood beside the shattered glass door that lead into the Mercy Hospital, behind him and on the other side of the door were three other men. The first a rather large black man, with a bald shaven head, a lot of of height and a lot of muscle, he was the bear of the group... hell maybe that's why they called him Bear besides all the body hair he had. The second was the smartest of the group, a white man, Hacker as they all called him, he was a small mousy like man with a crew cut and not a lot of muscle, but he was well trained none the less. The third man was Ibanez, a Mexican man who was best known for his tactics and a mean left hook. Their fourth and final man was Boomer, their demolitions expert, he wasn't much of hand to hand or gun play, but he loved to set explosives and there wasn't an entry point he couldn't open. Then there was Roland himself the Commander of their squad, Viper Squad, a named earned from their fast execution of plans, and their quick and direct ends to intense situations. They were among the best, and they earned the sediment. In retrospect it was just another day to the four men who were outside the doors of what was described as the largest hostage crisis in their time. The bad thing was that they did have much information to go on, from what had been known, the hospital was full of people, an all of a sudden people just went mad and started killing other people... violently from what was heard. The call had come in from a scared nurse who managed to sound the alarm, she had said something about the dead, but she had been so hasty that a lot of what she had said was spastic and fast. All Roland knew was that they need to be quick but careful in this situation, putting his fingers up silently he made a small series of hand sighs to bear and Ibanez.

He told them to breach and clear on three, two by two formation, and to follow Roland and Hacker. Roland put three fingers up and slowly put them down. The moment his third and last finger went down Roland quickly breached the broken hospital doors with Hacker as Bear and Ibanez quickly followed in behind, each of them checked corners for possible enemies but it was clear. When they entered the main foyer they all came to a resounding stop as each one of them was shocked at what they saw, the entire foyer was filled with bodies of all ages. The entire entrance was ram shacked, blood, guts, body parts, all forms of human anatomy were spread over the area. In all his year on the force Roland had never seen such a sight in his whole life, he was used to body parts, hell out of them all he had seen the most, bombings, terrorist cells. But this... this was something else entirely. Roland slowly lowered his gun, it was completely silent in the hospital, no screams, sounds, gunshots, nothing... just an unsettling silence. Roland slowly raised his fingers to the other three men to keep their eye's open as he reached up and put his finger to the headset in his ear and pressed the transmit button.

"Base... its a blood bath in here. It looks like a pack of wolves ram sacked the place and tore everyone open. What is our orders?"

"Commander your orders remain, neutralize all threats and find possible survivors. Base out."

Roland didn't like this, he had been on over fifty or more successful operations while on the force, but this was... this was nothing he had ever witnessed before.

"You heard the Chief men, search and destroy any and all threats and rescue civilians. Bear your with Hacker, Ibanez your with me, stay in two's and do not deviate from each other. I don't know what's going on here, but its nothing we have faced before. Bear, Hacker go left, me and Ibanez will go right. We clear the first floor then meet at the east stair well, if you find anything of interest or otherwise, radio in immediately."

Bear and Hacker nodded and they veered off to the left, Roland took the lead and motioned for Ibanez to follow him. Roland kept his gun raised as he clicked on the flashlight, many of the lights were shattered leaving the hallway darkened.

"Ibanez keep your eye's and ear open for any and all movement and sound, I don't like this at all, something just isn't right"

"Yes Sir"

Roland continued along the hallway there was a lot less body parts but the blood was still rampant, but there odd thing was the farther they went there were no bodies to go with the blood. In fact for the amount of blood on the floor, there had to be bodies unless they were all dragged away, but their were no drag marks, just bloody foot prints on the white tile.

"Commander we got movement up ahead. Over."

"Copy that Bear, proceed with extreme caution"

Roland kept walking slowly forward, but he saw nothing but overturned gurneys, bloody patient robes, scattered office supplies, chairs, everything but bodies. He was hoping to god he was not going to stumble upon another wall of bodies, in the past terrorists of certain cells killed all their hostages and stacked their bodies up to inspire fear. But the signs just were not there, nothing made sense, even terrorists were not this sick in the head to do this kind of damage. The sudden gunfire threw Roland on edge, it was short and ended quickly as it seemed to echo the empty hospital.

"Bear, Hacker, report."

"Some crazy person sir, looks like a patient, tried to attack us we had to put him down..."

The line suddenly went silent as Roland heard the screams of Hacker coming from across the hospital. Roland was quick as he motioned to Ibanez they both double timed it back into the main foyer. Avoiding the bodies they heard more gun shots as Bear was yelling. Roland increased his speed as his heart was racing. As they turned the corner, Rolands heart seemed to stop, Hacker was on the ground twitching slightly with what seemed to be a bite wound to his neck. Bear was in front of him, a body lay on the ground sprawled out with bullet marks from head to toe. Roland shouldered the MPK5 and slid to the ground as he quickly looked over Hacker, the wound was incredibly deep, he was going to die if he didn't get treatment.

"Quickly! Bring over the gurney, get him into one of the rooms, now!"

Bear quickly grabbed one of the overturned Gurney's as he wheeled it over, Roland and Ibanez lifted Hacker as they rolled him into one of the various rooms. Roland was quick as he wrenched up cabinets and grabbed medical supplies, laying them all on the table beside himself he grabbed open one of the gauze pads and quickly applied it to the wound to try and keep pressure on the wound.

"Bear what the hell happened!?"

"I don't know Sir, we were securing rooms and we spotted someone down the hallway. We approached cautiously, and we called out to them when we saw the medical garb they were wearing. The person turned an almost immediately charged us, I shot him down, direct to the heart. We thought he was dead, there was no way he couldn't be, Hacker went to check his pulse and the man bite him in the neck. Thats when I lite him up."

Roland worked feverishly as he listened to Bear recount his story, what the hell was going on here?! Roland didn't have time to contemplate, he quickly took a role of gauze and started to wrap Hacker's neck. But the blood was coming out too quickly, his juggler was struck in the bite. Roland wasn't a damn medic and he barely knew what to do as it was, when Hacker started to violently seize Roland quickly spoke.

"Bear hold his feet, Ibanez get his head!"

Both men quickly grabbed Hacker as he seized for another couple moments, blood shot from his mouth as he slowly went still and stopped breathing.

"No damn it no Hacker stay with me!"

Roland quickly wrenched open a locked drawer as he saw many different syringes, he quickly over looked them, trying to remember his brief medical class. Finding the syringe marked adrenaline he ripped it out of the paper and jammed it into Hacker's chest and pumped it in. Grabbing a plastic face mask he put it over Hacker's mouth as he tilted his head back and administered mouth to mouth. Pushing on his chest with his hand Roland listened for a heart beat, but there wasn't one.

"God damn it Hacker come back!"

Roland did mouth to mouth again as he pushed on Hacker's chest, but he did it to no avail, Hacker was dead. Roland was silent as he closed his eye's and gritted his teeth. Kicking over an operating tray he pounded his fist on the counter, breathing deeply he contained his anger as he turned and pushed his finger to the head set.

"Base this is Roland, we lost Hacker, copy."

"Continue on point Commander, your mission is still a go."

"Hacker is dead god damn it, there is something we have not faced here before, something wrong here. We need to retreat and come back with a full team. Over."

"Negative Viper Squad your mission stands. Over."

Roland ripped off the head set and slammed it into the cabinet as it broke into pieces, what the hell was HQ thinking!? There was something he wasn't being told here, something he was not informed of. Roland looked at Bear and Ibanez as they both held the same look of frustration he did. It was then that they all heard the sounds of moans, Roland turned his head towards the table where Hacker was, all three of them saw movement. Bear immediately went towards the table but Roland stopped him with his hand, no, something was wrong, Hacker was dead, he knew it. Roland took the MPK5 off his back and into his hands as he watched Hacker slowly come back to life, leaning up his eye's were white, his pupils completely gone. Roland quickly backed out of the room as Ibanez and Bear followed, gripping the door Roland slammed it closed as it clicked. Hacker got off the table as he came up to the door and his face smashed into the window in the center. As he started to bang on the door Roland started to piece together what was happening here, the lack of bodies, the eaten corpses, scattered body parts, but that wasn't possible. It was a fucking horror movie that you went to watched in a dark theater not something that could happen in real life. It was then that Roland heard several moans on each side of them, slowly but surely doctors, nurses, and patients started stumbling into the hallway.

"Form up now!"

All the men got back to back as they all took directions, the dead filled the hallways as Roland gritted his teeth, they some how knew about this and they send them in anyways. But he wasn't going to die here! He was not going to lose the rest of his men either. As the dead closed in Roland spoke:

"Fire! Fire! Kill them all!"

____________________________________________________________________________________________________________

Present Day
Car Crash
Unknown Location
Unknown time

Roland slowly opened his eye's as everything was blurry for a couple moments, the first thing he noticed right off the back was the pain shooting through his entire body. He had almost no recollection of where he was or why he was in so much pain in the first place, or why he felt so damn light headed. All he knew was he felt incredibly weak, and incredibly tired, he slowly started to close his eye's again as if to go back to sleep, however he quickly opened them as he saw a flash of memory from before the crash. The memories started to quickly flood back into his head, the vivid dream of Mercy Hospital leaving his thoughts. Shaking his head a little bit he felt the twinge of pain in his neck, he remembered now... he had been in a cop car with a bunch of other survivors, they had been driving and then it got a little blurry but he could remember a very strong impact... a car hitting them maybe, it was still a little fuzzy. At the end he finally realized he was strapped upside in the police car, he could hear some muffled voices and the environment around them was dark now, and the worst was the sound of distant moans from the outside, that truly woke him up as he moved around feeling the tenderness in his body.

"Oh shit... I have not hurt this bad since combat training and my drill instructor beat the hell out of me to teach me a lesson."

Roland spoke feeling the dryness in his mouth, he was guessing they had been out a fair while. Once he got upright he knew when the blood rushed out of his head it going to smart, but he had suffered a lot worse in retrospect in the past. Slowly reaching down he pulled the knife from its sheath and found the intersection of the seat belt, jammed his feet into the seat in front of him and jammed his free arm against the other seat, he positioned himself so he wouldn't fall and cut the seat belt, feeling the strain in his arm and the pain he quickly lowered himself down and slowly made his way out the broken window. Reaching back in he slowly brought out his black bag and his rifles as he sat on the tarmac, and let the dizziness fade. Re opening his eye's he reached into the black bag and took out a water bottle, taking a gulp of the water he swished it around his mouth and then swallowed it as the fuzz in his mouth subsided. His head hurt like hell, reaching up he felt a small gash on the side of his head, but it seemed to be dry and flaky.

"Next time I drive guys..."

Roland spoke lowly more too himself then anything else as he got up, pulling the rifles over his back he pulled out the 22. and put his hand over the flashlight attached to it and clicked it on. Thankfully it was not shattered, grabbing his pack he slowly got to his feet and made his way around the car where he saw the man he had meant before, and the little girl as well he seemed to be consoling her. Hearing the moans again it put him on edge, but they were aways off as of yet so he kept his wits about him. Walking up to the man and the girl he slowly took a knee as he breathed a little heavy, his chest was still tight from the weight of the seat belt. slowly moving his finger little off the flashlight he illuminated both the man and the girl.

"How is everyone holding up? No don't answer that if you feel like I do then I already know the answer."

Roland slowly made his way to the driver as he shined the light on him and the saw the mass amounts of blood on him, he looked pretty damn bad.

"Stay still buddy."

Roland looked at the possible wounds, but when he heard someone yelling towards them, regardless of what he was saying Roland pointed the gun in that direction and illuminated the man getting a look at him, seeing the gun at his side he slowly got up. Keeping the gun pointed, he remembered what had happened now, the man had ran into them going at a pretty damn fast speed, that much he remembered. Like there wasn't enough trouble, now there was this guy who had just beat the hell out of them with stupidity.

"Not to be mean, but you just nearly killed us all, so excuse me if I don't trust you at this point. An at this point I am not taking any chances so keep that gun at your side, lift it up and Ill put a bullet between your eye's..."

Roland was cold perhaps but in this new world, it just didn't pay to take chances, even with someone who claimed to be local S.W.A.T even though ironically he was part of the same.

"Who are you, Im S.W.A.T too, maybe I know you..."

His neck felt squashed and ached in a strain like he had been sleeping at an awkward angle. Evan opened his eyes and a wave of pain and nausea overwhelmed him. His head pounded in the most severe migraine of his life. He tried to speak, to call for help from the murmured voices around, but the effort needed proved too much to hold back a retch; with a leaden hand he reached for the car door, finding the handle in a strange position, and pushed it open. The world looked upside down but it didn’t matter. He dragged himself out and collapsed onto the grass and vomited.

He lay on the damp ground, breathing in the night air, which helped a little, and stared unfocused at the wavering stars in the sky, hearing the distant cries of zombies. He knew enough basic first aid course that he suffered from a concussion. Running was out of the question for a while. The vertigo persisted. He felt liquid drip down his ear. He touched it and saw blood coat his fingers. He wiped at his forehead - more blood - and down his chin. His head had split open on the side, where the source of hammering agony was. “Dammit,” he muttered. Evan chanced to sit up. His vision swam and he felt the rise of bile. It took many seconds before stability returned. The rest of his body felt fine. He removed the roll of bandage and aspirin from his backpack, popped four pills into his mouth and had a drink with it, then offered the medication to anyone who needed it. The zombies were shuffling closer to the smell of fresh blood. They had time but not much. “I need my head wrapped up, can someone please help me?” he asked, even though the driver looked like he was in far worse shape than himself. If there was enough time, he would help him after the flow from his head was stymied.

Mindanao, Philippines, 6 years before
(Italics are translated from Filipino)

"Miguel, you're up"

Miguel Ordornio kicked the door in, barging into the room. He shouldered his AR-15, aiming down the sights. The room was the typical lounge one would find in the Philippines. An absolute shit hole. The walls were kept together with bits of cement and sheet metal, the floor was a mix of bamboo and metal while the room itself was empty except for a single chair illuminated by a single hanging light.

The Filipino looked back at his comrades, silently gesturing that the room was clear. He walked forwards, carefully creeping at the rim of the light. "You! What are you doing here?" Miguel span to meet the voice, looking into the eyes of a man in the doorway to his right. He was aiming his gun at him. Cursing slightly, Miguel aimed at his head, only to get grazed on his shoulder. Blood seeped from the graze almost instantly, but the soldier shouldered his rifle and fired. Two in the chest, one in the head.

Miguel hissed in pain as his comrades filed in, one of them checking his wounds. He patted him on the shoulder, whispering "Just a graze." Miguel shouldered his rifle again, nudging his comrade to the doorway on his left. He acknowledged and kicked the door off it's hinges. A small fraction of a second, then gunfire erupted.

The terrorists were ready.

The man was cut down, bleeding profusely. Miguel threw a flash bang into the room, and arrived at the doorway, firing round after round until his gun clicked. He turned, careful not to step on his comrades' corpse and looked back.

"Independence motherfucker." Into the eyes of a man.

"What the fu-?" The man slapped him in the face, grabbed Miguel's collar and threw him into the room. He blacked out.

Present Day. Miguel

Miguel stared down the man's barrel, his Beretta useless in his hands. The man, claiming to be SWAT, looked familiar. Despite the obvious threat, he spoke up with a strained voice. "I am SWAT too. I-" Miguel choked up "I don't know what happened there. One moment, I'm revving up an SUV I've found in a city parking lot, next thing I know I wake up in whatever hell is place is."

He turned, making sure the shambler was still quite far away. He looked back at the man, illuminated by the fire next to him. Miguel almost recognised him instantly. "Roland Anderson? You're a SWAT commander!" He straightened almost instantly, not one to be sloppy in front of a man in the higher rankings. "I've heard of you before. D'you know Rodriguez Salinas? He says your a legend, says that he worked with you. Showed a picture of you too." Miguel glanced at the wreckage. "I'm sorry for crashing into your car sir." Miguel reddened, embarrassed in his current predicament

Sophia - On the Bridge Railing

Sophia didn't have the pistol but took Alex's water and sipped it. When he told her he believed in her, she wasn't exactly sure what to do with those words or what he really meant by them. She handed back the water and found a post to watch for problems. She found a spot on the bridge that she could shimmy up higher and see in all directions. And if things went really south, she could keep going and hide out like she had in the tree when all of this had started.

Looking out, she could see the first dead-heads coming through the parked road traffic. From the other direction, it still looked clear, but that was all the way across the bridge and getting stuck in the middle would really mess up their day. It wasn't a huge leap for her brain to think about survival, she had figured out how to avoid danger at school and at home even before the world had ended.

"We need to be going," she says, her voice not much higher than the wind. She needed to work on that. "Alex. Angela. We need to go!" she tried a little louder.

Roland cocked his head sideways as the man seemed to become uncomfortable realizing who he was and the situation they found themselves in. He would have loved to reminisce but time was not a factor that was on their side, in fact life was not even a factor they had on their side right now. Roland lowered the gun against his better judgement as he spoke lowly but quickly towards the man:

"Wasn't my car anyways, I just happened to be in when you beaned it with an SUV and as much as I would like to talk about old days, and people I worked with. Well to put it plainly there is not time nor luxury at this point. Were beat up, no car, its night, and the shamblers are already on us, so if you want to help then help, if not then start walking because at this point none of us might not be going much further."
Roland was a bit harsher then intended but his head felt like he had been cracked in the skull with a damn brick at full force, and even worse he had a bunch of wounded people with Shamblers on their necks already. There was no telling how much longer they had before those flesh eaters arrived, and they were on a bridge so they had to move now before they were surrounded on each side. It had happened once already and he was not going to find himself in that situation again. Roland turned as he made his way back to the man he had been with before, leaning down and looking, upon closer inspection it looked like he had bleed out pretty good, however the wound the blood emitted from did not seem all that bad. But some good news was it looked like the wound was clotting and the bleeding was lessening.

"Stay here a moment, rest for just a bit, the wounds does not look bad and it appears to be clotting up."

Roland got up as he went around the car and saw another man in the grass, shining the flashlight on him he saw the gash on the side of his head. Roland walked to the man as he bent down, wiping his nose he felt the warm gush of blood coming out of his nostrils, he sighed as he wiped his nose again, the last thing he needed was a blood trail. He ignored his nose bleed for the time being as he replaced his 22 and pulled out an actual LED flashlight, clicking it on he spoke:

"Your got a good gash in your head here, I am going to wrap it tightly to close it, you might feel slightly light headed for a moment but it will pass. I am not a medic, but I have limited training for superficial wounds."

Roland stuck the flashlight in his mouth as he picked up the roll of bandage off the ground, unrolling a piece he stuck it on the wound.

"Tis gon smart, hod stl"

Roland spoke through the flashlight in his mouth as crunched the skin a little bit with the bandage and then started to roll it tightly to keep the wound closed long enough so it would stop bleeding. Roland wrapped the wound a couple times around as he finished it off by tieing it tightly together. Removing the flashlight from his mouth he could hear a small voice saying they needed to go, his heart started to pound as the blood was still dripping from his nose and to the ground. Taking some of the gauze he ripped it and stuck it up his nose to stop the bleeding.

"Come on, no time to lay around, we got company and they are expecting dinner."

Roland took the roll of bandage as he went back to the man near the front of the car and bent back down as he looked at his arm again. This much blood from such a small wound, couldn't have just been normal, Roland started to think that perhaps this man had some kind of genetic disease that made open wounds bleed by a lot. Then again with the pounding in his skull, and the moans in the distance there was no time to figure out medical history. Roland took the gauze and wrapped the small wound the best he could tieing it off, hopefully that would help stop the bleeding. Everything was uncertain right now, his mind was racing a thousand thoughts a second and he just felt like throwing himself off the bridge, he hoped to hell he had not suffered brain damage and he was bleeding inside his skull. Roland shook his head as he tried to still his thoughts, he needed to calm down, concentrate, panicking and freaking out would not help him or the others. Closing his eye's for just a moment he breathed deeply in then out a couple times as he steadied himself. Climbing back up he replaced the flashlight in his vest and pulled the 22 back out. Walking to the head of the car near the larger man he spoke to everyone, making sure to keep his voice a bit lower.

"I know none of you know me, and I am new to this group... I don't care to be the leader at this point... but we gotta get moving and we gotta get moving right now. Everyone grab what you need, whatever that may be, leave what isn't needed. If you need help walking then speak up, we gotta get our shit together right now or we won't be seeing another sunrise. Those shamblers are on their way, an I don't intend to be here when they arrive. Five more minutes then we need to move."

It had taken the majority of his self control not to force feed this new guy his fist. He THINK he'd crashed into them? Alex gritted his teeth, his head swirling as the anger brought flashes of pain and waves of dizziness. Whether it had been from a possible head wound, or from adrenaline, the last few minutes had passed blurred and too quickly. Seemed the majority of the group was back on their feet and by the luck of whatever God(s) were out there, it seemed there were no casualties. Roland seemed to be cutting about. He'd given Alex a brief introduction when he'd first joined the group, but he wasn't sure if He'd told Roland his name, or anything about him. Oh well.

He'd gone over with the ex-SWAT commander when the newcomer had turned up, standing a few meters behind the two for situational awareness. Even from this distance, he could see the guys pupils were extremely dilated. Drug use? That would certainly explain a lot. It made Alex wonder about the character of the guy who'd take copious amounts of drugs during a zombie apocalypse. He was either extremely reckless, or was a believe in the phrase "YOLO". God, he hated that phrase.

The brief conversation that entailed showed the two were both SWAT, and that the new guy seemed to look up to Roland. Either Roland was really good at what he did, or the other guy was a kiss-ass. You got that a lot in any career with a rank structure. After watching him quickly and efficiently deal with the bleeder only moments later, the question was answered. After a moment of what looked like doubt, Roland had addressed the group.

"I know none of you know me, and I am new to this group... I don't care to be the leader at this point... but we gotta get moving and we gotta get moving right now. Everyone grab what you need, whatever that may be, leave what isn't needed. If you need help walking then speak up, we gotta get our shit together right now or we won't be seeing another sunrise. Those shamblers are on their way, an I don't intend to be here when they arrive. Five more minutes then we need to move."

As if to prove his point, Sophia called faintly over the wind. Looking over, Alex couldn't see what Sophia was warning them about, but he trusted her. Turning back to the group, he spoke in a low voice.

"We may not even have 5 minutes..."

Not waiting for a response, Alex stealthily ran to where Sophia was looking out.

"Good job. Head back to the group now and make sure everyone is okay and ready to go. Show 'em who's boss." He ended the sentence with a small grin, motioning towards the group with a nod. He found it was good to give Sophia jobs and responsibility like this. It kept her mind busy and off the horrors that were forever unfolding in this new, troubled world.

Looking forward, he saw the shamblers she'd warned him about. The first three undead staggered towards them slowly, but surely, their eyes empty of life, but full of an endless hunger. He couldn't see much past them, the blackness of the night impaired his vision. It was always good to prepare for the worst however, and assumed there were more walkers behind the three approaching. In turn, he looked to the other side of the bridge. It was too dark though and he couldn't tell if it was clear or not. Damn.

Alex backed towards the group, keeping the undead in his sights.

"Hope everyone's ready. We're outta time." Glock holstered, he drew the knife from his webbing. "We can buy a little time if you want to try to take these three out, but we need to do it quietly. The last thing we want to do is draw more of these things in and get trapped on this bridge."

He flashed a look to Angie, remembering the gunshot and the corpses of her old group lying in pieces on the gym floor. She'd suffered that mistake already.

"I'm not here to play leader, or boss anyone around, but we can't just stand around here. I'm in agreement with Roland. We need to move now. I'm happy to help anyone along who can't walk on their own just yet."

He looked to their own driver, noticing the blood seeping through the gauze and bandages. It seemed odd that despite the treatment, the wounds still seemed to bleed.

"Are you going to be alright man?"

Garret noticed that his offer fell on deaf ears, and knowing that he lacked the energy to argue he decided to ignore it, resting his head on the side of the cruiser door he waited, hoping the pill had begun its way into his bloodstream. Every heartbeat was like a pounded his the inside of his skull like a drum, and every breath shook his body. He closed his eyes, hoping that he wouldn't bleed to death before the pill kicked in. It wasn't a "cure all" pill, infact all it did was increase the chances of his blood clotting to the point that it was almost normal. And, even if his cuts healed he very well could have internal bleeding, in which case this could very well be the end.

Garret hadn't even noticed when Roland had left, but Garret opened his eyes when he stuck his head down into the cruiser, giving him a once over. "Stay here a moment, rest for just a bit, the wounds do not look bad and it appears to be clotting up," Roland said, affirming that Garret's pill had already taken affect. With this, all Garret could do was rest his head back. Letting a little chuckle escape his throat, he knew his luck had yet to run out. He would live. There'd be no internal bleeding and his luck would hold out once more. Garret let his eyes droop closed just as Roland had requested, and began to let his consciousness slip.

Garret awoke at the feeling of his arm being raised as gauze was wrapped being pulled around it. He looked over at Roland, gratitude etched into his eyes. Is he doing this out of thanks, or is he a genuine good person? Garret looked at him up and down as drowsiness began to slip back into his mind. Well, it doesn't matter either way, does it? We all have our own reasons for doing the things we do.

He began to nod off, but stopped himself as Roland began to speak, and managed to stay awake throughout his speech, and when he was done Garret shifted his eyes around the car. His backpack was fine, and his sledge hammer had shifted itself around the car over to the back. There, that was all he needed. Now that he'd found everything he needed he would milk the rest of his four minutes to get as much sleep as possible, he felt weak, tired, and out of breath. When he awoke he'd be surprised if he could walk, but the Garret of now didn't need to worry about that. That'd be for the Garret of later. He heard a man ask him something, but Garret's mind already began to slip, easing him into sleep.

Rudo Ihejirika looked over the edge of the multi-story car park to see if there was any activity from the crashed cars. He'd seen the whole thing six hours earlier, but a mixture of fear from being caught by the dead, and a certainty that the cars' occupants had died, had prevented him from leaving the safety he had fought so hard to establish.

Safety, yeah, that was one word for it.

Rudo hadn't been safe from the moment he stepped foot in America. An illegal immigrant, who had made the expensive and perilous journery from Nigeria to South America, and then up through the Mexican border, he was no stranger to the dangers of a hostile world. Furthermore, he was no stranger to a hopeless situation.

Still, he'd thrived hadn't he? With his fake credentials, he'd landed a job as a shelf-stacker at Walmart. No one bothered him, and no one suspected his inventive back story was anything worth questioning. Besides, surely his generous and kind personality would beat away threats to report him to immigration officials. Right? Right!

But it was his kind and generous nature that wouldn't let him stop checking the scene of the crash. However, as he peered over the top of the carpark's highest floor, his jaw fell. He saw a flash light, flailing around in the darkness. Survivors!

His first instinct was to call out. They might be dangerous, sure, but Rudo hadn't survived the last four weeks without putting bad men into the ground. He could handle them, he always had. In Nigeria, it was a case of facing down the multitudes of corrupt officials and soldiers; in America? Hah, these Americans knew nothing of his hardships, and their assumptions of combat paled in comparison to his.

Still, if they were friendly, then they may have food - and Christ, was he hungry. He couldn't stay up there forever, this he knew. It was a question of starving to death, or getting the Hell out of there. Luckily, it looked as though God had provided him a life line.

He strolled along the barrier, to where a National Guard machinegun nest had been positioned a week previous. The bastards had taken the gun and ammo with them, but they'd left the mounted light and portable battery behind. With steady hands, he flicked the on-switch on and off several times, casting a circle of strong light over the toppled car. In doing so, he saw that there were a handfull of survivors - and what he assumed to be a little girl.

Hopefully they'd get the idea, and mosey on over to his concrete home.

After a few more flicks, he left the light off, and proceeded down to the bottom of the car park. He'd blocked the entrance, but the gap between the floors was plenty of room for people to crawl through. Not shamblers though, they seemed too stupid to understand the logistics of pulling themselves up onto a surface. Every now and then one of them would fall through the gap, but Rudo took care of those. Besides, he'd kept his presence there very low key.

He hid behind a pillar, next to a black Sudan. The Colt .45 stirred restlessly in his waistband. With the power out, he doubted any of them would see him when they entered.

These grown men were arguin' about something. I was with Sophia, when she said something.

"We need to be going. Alex. Angela. We need to go!"

I looked down at her and nodded, gently squeezing her shoulder in my hand.

"Aye lass, we'll get out of here right quick. And thank ye for wakin' me up."

I looked up. The other men were still arguing when I saw the flashes of a light up above us. Someone close by? Probably. These shamblers didn't have the sense of mind to hold a torchlight and turn it on and off like that. I turned back to the guys, who'd stopped arguin', and pointed up at the bridge. Judging from the snippets of conversation I'd caught while trying to un-daze my mind, they were busy talking about current plans to get away from the wreck, about who was going to lead or that leadership didn't matter right now. What-bloody-ever, they'd missed the biggest signal of all.

"Oy, fellas, look up and look lively! We've got someone up there on the bridge might want us ta follow 'im!"

It was dark though, and not many of us had flashlights, at least as far as I knew. The only light came from the moon high above our heads. We had to get away from the wreck and away from this stupid place. The light had come from somewhere ahead of us, and judging by distance, it might've been that parking garage we'd passed by earlier. I took Sophia's hand and smiled down at her.

"Alright lass, we're goin'. Don't mind the men, they're busy arguin'. They'll catch up."

My bat in the other hand, I started walking. Screw them, I say. If they were gonna keep arguin' about whatever the hell they were arguin' about, I didn't want to be a part of it.

Evan resisted a yelp when the SWAT commander tightened the bandage around his head with one last pull. He touched the fabric on the gash: it was damp, blood had seeped through but the pressure on the wound should stop the flow in a while. Head injuries felt worse than they appeared and since the veteran didn’t say it was grievous, he figured that it should heal with but a scar and he wouldn’t suffer an infection with any luck. “Thanks Roland,” he said. “I’m Evan, by the way.”

It seemed the group of survivors, including the man who had nearly, albeit accidentally, killed them all, had banded together with no animosity in a time of crisis. The soldiers looked like they had combat experience and they quickly sorted out their ranks. Evan had few exceptional skills and the thudding pain and dizziness worried him if he could escape danger when needed to; so he meekly followed their lead.

He awkwardly stood up with the backpack still on him and swallowed hard against the nausea that threatened once more - it was weaker this time. Taking deep breaths and slow steps, Evan walked towards the multi-storey carpark from which the blinking spotlight had shone. “It’s getting late,” he reminded the group, “we need a place to sleep. We can’t do this out in the open. The people in there,” he pointed at the building, “must have seen us crash and are either offering us help or want to kill us. They must be watching us. It might be a trap.”

Captain Ishida was a long way from home, stranded in an alien city, fighting a battle that humanity might not win.

"Contact left!" Sergeant Himura whispered, though her words went far in a night full of silence.

The 4 man JSDF squad were confronted by a wall of shambling, decaying flesh. Hundreds of the enemy were converging on them, but not purposefully. It seemed that even the dead had a hard time seeing at night.

"Let's move," Captain Ishida responded.

He led his men down a back alley, and they formed a defensive diamond around the one survivor they'd found since their retreat from Arlington. They'd shot their way out of the situation, downing scores of the dead, but now their ammo was running low - standing and fighting was now luxury.

The back alley opened onto another road, bordering a river - if you could call it that. Straight away, in the bleak darkness, they could see the sea of shamblers descending on... a crashed car? Flash lights flickered around the toppled vehicle, and hurried voices accompanied their movements. Seemed Captain Ishida had found some more survivors, who unfortunately were blissfully unaware of just how close the building sea of dead men was to reaching them.

He looked at Malik Thornton, the guy they'd happened upon as he fought the dead back from his motorbike. The thing had run out of gas, and Malik had been in the process of trying to syphon fuel for it from cars, when dead hands grasped from the darkness. If Captain Ishida had not been there, Malik would be one of them by now.

"Watch our backs, Malik" the captain said with broken English.

And then a bright light from the top of a multi-story carpark, just off to the squad's left, illuminated the crashed car briefly. Captain Ishida saw for a moment a handfull of survivors, who seemed to be gathering up their stuff to move. He also saw the true enormity of the horde. Four or five hundred stumbling, lifeless bodies had encircled the car, and were no more than teen feet away.

The light from the carpark flashed again, and this time the survivors realised their peril.

Guns went off in a thick spasm of panicked and uncoordinated fire. Ishida saw dozens of the dead drop, left and right, but others surged forwards - holding their arms up and groaning for the flesh they so justly deserved. It took the JSDF squad two seconds to decide a course of action.

As one they raised their weapons, and unleashed a devastating volley of lead towards the mass of shamblers. The dead fell like wheat to a scythe, and the JSDF - followed by Malik - ran forwards into the breach they had created. They engaged the enemy at a few feet of range, in a heroic bid to get to the survivors. The gun fire intensified as they fought their way through, and reached the toppled car.

The Captain looked around, saw the car park flash its light again, and made his decision.

"To the carpark. You follow," Ishida said.

The survivors complied.

Gun fire reached its cresendo as Captain Ishida tried to lead the survivors through the eye of the storm, dropping shamblers left and right, and draining their precious ammunition in doing so. He saw an Asian man with a green hat pulled down by the horde. Then he saw a little girl - perhaps just breaching her teens - caught by her hair, and dragged into a rifling mass of dead men. A man dressed in the kevlar of a S.W.A.T tried to intervene, screaming in rage in a vain bid to reach the girl. A woman, blazing with fury, tried to help - but it was futile.

Captain Ishida turned back, unleashed another salvo of lead, and managed to grab both the man and the woman by the arms as the rest of his squad covered him. With great difficulty, he forcefully persuaded them that the girl was dead and a lost cause.

They made it to the multi story carpark, clambering over a concrete wall to gain entrance. The dead were hot in pursuit, and they threw themselves at the wall, pouring over it like water.

"Up here!" yelled a thickly foreign voice.

The survivors, all in various states of disarray, looked up at the ramp to the next level. A great big SUV had been parked across its width, and an African man stood behind it, beckoning them.

"They'll find it hard getting over this. Come, come, quick!" he said, before turning and running up the ramp.

The medical officer and his surviving soldiers climbed over the SUV barricade after Malik, the survivor they saved. Sergeant Yamauchi was having trouble with that, as his right calf was badly injured from a Kyonshi bite, but with Sergeant Maiko's help he was able to make it over just fine. The newer survivors, however, were still stumbling over their recent losses and were behind them. The vengeful dead were approaching. "Hurry! We cover you!" Captain Ishida shouted and raised his rifle. In Japanese, he ordered his men, "cover the civilians!" They proceeded to obey his command and lined up by the SUV, careful to pick a vantage point and target that would be safest when firing past friendlies. They had to take their time to aim as a consequence, the captain himself especially, since his marksmanship aptitude was actually the worst in his squad. Where he took the safest target in the corner and fired only a single shot, the others were dispensing several, and dispatching numerous. It should give his new dependents time to get to safety.

"Sir! You sir!" The medical officer said to the African man and asked, "Is top floor clear? Is top floor clear? We signal transport to pick us up!" Sweat was pouring down his face. A million things to consider. He then ordered Private First Class Wakahisa to check the vicinity behind them and make sure of its safety. The young soldier promptly disengaged from the SUV and scanned the rest of the carpark, his riot shield and pistol up and ready. But it was deathly quiet at the back.

A million things to consider, and no time to grieve. In truth, seeing that girl getting torn apart was too much for him to take- and he had already been through too many things that were too much for him to take. It'd brought back memories of Africa. He could already smell the blood from there, see the faces of despair and terror and resignation personified. He had wanted to wade in there to rescue her, but his rational side would not allow it. She was surrounded by dozens of them, the Kyonshi, and no amount of firepower could destroy her attackers.

All he could do now was to save everyone else.

The last few minutes had been a blur. Ripped from her grasp like a fish, Angie had watched as poor little Sophia was dragged into the chaos and promptly devoured. Dazed and overwhelmed by how outnumbered they were, she'd simply followed Alex along as they followed the new arrivals into the safety of a nearby parking garage. With the way things were now, she was kinda glad that they were in relative safety now, even though they'd lost even more of the party. At this point, she was the only one left of the original bus crew. Ahi, James and the doctor, gone at the school. Doris, shot. Sophia, eaten. Everyone she'd known well over the past week, gone, dead, shambler food. Sonuvabitch. If she were any less strong, she would've dove head first into the horde, let it take her and her troubles away. But no, she'd survived Dulles. She could survive this.

With bat gripped firmly in hand she clambered her way over the SUV, lost in the chaos and firmly alone, at least, save for the lone soldier they'd met at the school. Alex, he was called. She didn't even know where he was, everything happened so quickly. All she knew was that now there was a new guy and a whole bunch of soldiers that were covering the survivors of the wreck, her included. She didn't even know what they were doing, so she blindly followed orders like a sheep, concerned more for her own safety in this hellhole that was DC.

She'd grieve later. Right now, survival was key.

Head pounding, heart thumping and heavy breaths in his own ear, Evan ran. In glimpses behind him, gunfire and mounted lights from the four-man squad lit up a dark wave of ravenous zombies in flashes. A few shamblers fell but more replaced them - ever more surrounded the survivors’ vicinity from every direction he could see like an enclosing trap. He kept near the forefront of the group headed towards the carpark and positioned himself within a protective buffer of soldiers that took down zombies who got too close. A girl screamed to his diagonal right - he spared a turnaround glance - the young girl screamed as she was dragged to the ground from the side like a stray fawn.

I can’t save her, he told himself. I can’t save anybody. Run. Keep running.

Evan jumped and easily pulled himself up the concrete wall; landed and without waiting to help anyone else, he ran and vaulted over the SUV to follow their saviour. The black man led them up a level, presumably to the top floor for air evacuation by the Japanese military; he didn’t care why a foreign nation would send in help at this junction, as long as he could be let in. Evan took the precious distance they had secured from the zombies to unsling and fumble in his bag for a headlamp.

The band was tight and pressed painfully into his wound but the steady white light shone on his path meant he could see where he was going without depending on someone else’s frantic beams. He looked around the concrete environment. There were plenty of cars still parked in rows, which could be useful to escape in a maze-like tactic. The upper levels stayed quiet while hollow noises from the swamp of shamblers at the bottom travelled up the spiral ramp. It wouldn’t be long before the dead forced their retreat to be stuck on the roof. “Is a helicopter coming? Did you radio them? Are they close?” he asked a barrage of questions, out of fear, at the soldiers.

He couldn’t trust help would arrive in the nick of time and it was too risky to be caught on the roof with no way out. They needed plan B to get away from a sudden onslaught of zombies they might meet or to buy themselves time to reach another rooftop for a definite clear landing, so he asked the stranger about the exit signs on the ceilings. “Where does this carpark lead to? An office? A mall?”