Surfside Beach, South Carolina ----

The waves roll gently onto the shore as the sky starts to dim. The flickering of gas lanterns lights up what used to be rows of rental houses. Children run inside at the behest of their mothers. This is an average day in the refugee camp.

A truck rolls around the network of streets in the small community, delivering ammo rations as it goes. Men head for either the old URM bar, or to their stations for nightly patrol.

Willis Fruehstueck, who had not been stationed here since the old URM order, was steadily approaching the camp in his old, beat up truck. He had been here twice in the past week. Bringing with him the warnings of travelers on his CB. He's seen the zombies. He knows what's coming.

Pulling up on the camp, Willis sees an old friend in a tattered URM uniform.

"Here again to scare the shit out of the community, Willis?"

"No sir. This is the last night I'm going to be back through here, so I just wanted to let y'all know that they're still on the move, and they'll be here in three days. Y'all should really consider moving up the coastline a ways."

*Willis sighs*

"But, seeing as y'all are keen on staying here..."

*Willis gets out of the truck, and opens a crate that's on the truck bed.*

"I, 'found', this here ammo at a looter base last night. There are well over 1,000 rounds here, and some ammunition that I know is getting hard to come by is interspersed with yer everyday shells. I even got a grenade launcher, with a mount for it."

*Willis spins to speak with the man*

"And I'd like for the community to have it. Save for a couple hundred rounds for my old 30-06, of course."

After Willis and the man put the equipment into a nearby storage locker, the man convinces Willis to have a drink before he leaves.

"This place hasn't changed much I see."
Willis says with a smile.

The bar maid walks by, notices Willis, and turns.

"Sakes alive! If it isn't mister Breakfast 'imself!"

Her name was Jane O'Hanna. She was a childhood friend of Willis', and the only person he came to talk to when his wife and child were slain. Her parents came to America from Ireland, and her older brother died in Willis' arms while in service to the URM.

"And how er you this evening? I haven't seen you around these parts in a while. Heard o' ya stopping by now 'n again, but you didn't think to come say hello to yer old friend Janey?"

"Jane. It's been ages."

*Willis pauses for a few seconds, and his face takes on a more serious expression.*

"Listen Jane, I want you to come with me. I got a radio transmission the other night. The zombies Jane, they're getting closer. Surfside ain't gonna make it. I've seen what these things can do. They have no limits to the strain their muscles can exert. They're strong, and they don't go down easy. Now, I've got an old Ford Ranger outside..."

*Jane interrupts him*

"That Ford Ranger!?"

*She points outside the window to Willis' truck speeding away.*

"SHIT!"
Willis shouts, as he runs out the door to try to catch his truck.

Jane turned to Willis with a still shocked expression on her face.

"Now what are you going to do?"

Willis stands speechless for a few seconds.

"I'm gonna get the hell outta here."

*Willis loads the 9mm at his side*

"We've got 3 days to find a mode of transportation, walking the main roads at night would be too dangerous. We've got to hunt for a vehicle by day, and keep moving along the shore at night. Are you coming with me?"

*Jane nods*

She looked more like a wild animal, far from being human, never mind a young girl. Her matted hair was a mess of mud and sticks with a pinch of leaves added to the rats nest. Hey eyes were sunken into her skull and her stomach was almost hollow. Even her stance was animal like. She was stood on all fours as if she was imitating a vicious cat of sorts. Her cloathes, if you could call them cloths, were tattered and stained by unknown sources . She was on high alert, flinching at evry sound, subtle or loud.

This was the newly adopted life of Donna Alback.

----One Day Passes----

Donna Alback... a long forgotten name that was tied to heavy memories which kept it sunk into the lowest depths of her crazed mind that was mostly occupied by one word.

Survive...

At some point in her life, she had made a promise, a oath. Someone who she no longer remembered yet still was the most important thing to her, more important than even surviving. They made her promise, during desperate times. Times of death, times of destruction. As the animal-girl lay in her tree and watched as the few staggering zombies stumbled by, she wondered. Who had that person been? Would she ever know? It hurt her brain to think of such questions. Had she blocked out such a person? She didn't know and doubted she ever would. She took out a blunt knife and held it above her, allowing the suns rays to reflect off it. There was still some things of beauty that existed in her little messed up world at least...

On the side of the road, by an abandoned house, sits an old ford ranger.

The sun drops a little lower in the sky, as Willis spots the truck.

"There it is Jane!"

*Willis notices he's shouting, and lowers his voice.*

"That's my truck for sure, and it don't look like anyone's home, so we've hit a spot of luck. Looks like we'll be on the road again by night."

"NO."
Jane protests.

"It's too dark, and you don't know what's in there. Let's get back to the beach while the getting's good! We can always come back for the truck later!"

*Willis turns and faces Jane*

"Listen to me! Even just travelin' on the coast ain't gonna keep us safe forever! The sooner we get the truck, the sooner we can arm ourselves better, and get to some shelter. Now I'm going in there, and there ain't a thing you can do to stop me."

*Jane sighs after a short silence*

"I've got your back..."

*Willis and Jane sneak up to the front door of the house, guns in hand. Both being careful to not draw any attention to themselves, in case someone is watching for intruders.*

"Ready?"

*Jane nods*

Willis opens the door slowly, and finds the kitchen light on.

"He's probably just off somewhere taking a shit, we've got to hurry."

*Jane reaches down and pulls up a set of keys from the coffee table*

"These them?"

It had been quite some time since he had gone out to help the URM task force, in fact it had been over two years. His father had passed on, and his sister had moved with his mother, having to leave him to work for their protection. So far, the URM soldiers stuck to their job fairly well, but Aiden preferred they at least try to appear attentive.

For the most part wearing the uniform came with its up's and downs, just as everything did nowadays. He pursed his lips as the sun began to drop, the commotion seemed to die down a bit along with it, but it wasn't entirely silent. Then again, it never was. As his gaze fluttered around the near desolate and withered town, Aiden could only wince at the number of people that appeared so very close to embracing death with full arms. Supplies came in weekly, sometimes every other day, but whatever they were being used for; it didn't include the people. He only wished he had the power and influence to say something, to figure out how to fix it.

In this world, the only way to gain influence was to lock in, give up, and travel a path of corruption. Something that the man couldn't find it in him to do, not even now. His family would never forgive him for it, that was something he wouldn't be able to live with. Perhaps he was viewed as a young and headstrong fool for his morals, but he couldn't let go.

With a sigh, he turned to watch the next convoy of supplies come in. He waved off his partner on watch, heading over to the vehicle. Though as his light green gaze swept over the canvased trailer, he wasn't looking for any stolen goods or possible signs of infected material. No, he had been trained to look specifically for stowaways. This town was one of the few left, as horrid as it was, it was better than whatever laid behind the walls set out for them. Or so he was told. He hadn't seen the outside in a long while, his life had been sheltered for the past two years with -this-. Searching for signs of those seeking salvation rather than finding stolen stockpiles to help better the lives of those already living in this damned town.

Aiden waved the vehicle onward, turning on the balls of his feet and facing the gate, the outside that lay just behind it. Narrowing his weary eyes, he stifled a yawn, his head aching from the recent jab he'd received from another guard not too much earlier, a punishment for 'day dreaming'. Though he wished for a change, Aiden also imagined it, the day that would wring out the necks of those too deep in their hallowed tracks of dismay. When that day came, he would be proud to wear URM uniforms, as well as be a survivor. When that day came, he would've made a difference.