"Hey, who said muscle heads couldn't be smart?" Garsin replied with a smirk behind his helmet, that was revealed as he took it off.

Garsin did what he could to help fortify the doors so that the ghouls couldn't get through, But there wasn't much here for any substantial support save for the metal poles of some of the larger racks. Making and major modifications would require making a lot of noise and in some cases tools that they didn't have. So, just to make sure everyone would stay safe for the time being, Garsin braced against the doors himself. However, he wasn't foolish enough to just sit there. He listened carefully for any sign that their luck may get worse. Ghouls were known to back off after a few minutes and lose interest, but in that time, one had to pay close attention to the sounds of the ghouls outside. What Garsin was listening for were the heavy and lumbering footsteps of a berserker. He knew better than to be on the wrong side of a door with one of them. Even as big as he was, Garsin would have a a hell of a fight if he had to take on one of those hulking beasts. In their current situation, if these doors came down, he was pretty sure that a berserker plus the hundreds of ghouls would destroy them in an instant.

It seemed like he was there for ages. Waiting....listening.... praying that they would come to pass. And eventually it got quieter, though just to be sure they weren't making room for their fleshy battering ram, Garsin waited to listen just a moment longer.

Nothing.

Garsin let out a pent up breath that he hadn't realized he was holding as he stood back from the door. "Looks like they backed off for now. But we can't stay here," he said quietly to the others. Almost on que, Eli came back from scouting ahead....alone.

"The exit seems clear, but a Stalker got Thanes.. we'll need to be vigilant," Eli announced.

Garsin cursed under his breath as thought about what just happened. As far as fighting power goes, that now leaves Eli and himself that he knew had actually seen combat, but he also knew that it wasn't too hard even for someone who hasn't seen combat to use a rifle in a mediocre capacity and a thought occurred to him. "His gear, you think we can snag it? Assuming his body is still there, we could possible outfit one or two of these people." He walked over to the door again and put his ear against it. The shuffling seemed to be dying down as the ghouls lost interest for the time being.

"They don't seem to care we are here for the moment," he noted as he stepped back again, shaking his head. "Eli, before we move I need to talk to you," he said as he moved closer to him. He kept his voice low so that the others wouldn't be startled even more by what he had to say.

"I'm not sure if you have been hearing it to, but I keep hearing this laughing and giggling... I heard it before we were attacked and some before the ghouls lost interest with us here. I think something is controlling this, I don't know how or why, or even what it is. Honestly, if it didn't turn dark in the middle of the day with no sign of an eclipse, I'd just think I'd gone mad. While it would be nice to think I'm just imagining things, I'd like to think I haven't lost my mind," he finished with a hint of a grim smile. Maybe he had gone mad, maybe those plants that they were cutting down had some sort of spores. Either way, things weren't normal, it almost seemed...planned, almost like a trap.

As Garsin waited and listened to Eli's response, he started to check his gun, the magazine he had in it when then made first contact had three rounds left on one side with the other side full. He pulled the mag through, put the remaining three rounds from that side in a pocket, and reinserted the magazine with the fresh side up to feed the other eight rounds. He would wait to put his helmet back on for when they start to move out again.

Geoffrey didn't know exactly what transpired in the few seconds that preceded several chilling events. What he did know was this, he had been seated off by himself and had smoked half of one of his black and milds down. Things seemed to be following as much of a routine as they could in these times. The black youth, even with his limp, had chosen to go along on the convoy to gather materials for his small, humble shop - but instead fate had decreed that things would not go as such.

One of the other members took him out of his self imposed trance by murmuring the time, two-thirty six. Geoffrey flicked the ashes down, and turned towards the other members, a bunch that had some semblance of camaraderie, and perhaps that was what they all needed. He knew they were stopped to clear the path of debris, that going around was a no-go. Dangerous things lived in the unknown, be it a rival neighborhood, or this jungle that had come back to claim the world. Just the same, he would stay to his area, a small seat on the truck with smoke in hand.

What transpired next was more of a blur than anything he remembered. Eli had fallen, as though physically assaulted, and this tensed him up, but what occurred next shook him to his very core.

Geoffrey had been involved in shootouts, he had been involved in drug deals, kidnappings, and spent some a few months or so in county lock up, but the explosion that seemed to rock everyone at the moment, just a few seconds after the one named Fred announced the time, shook him to his core. Bullets whizzing past was one thing, but this explosion and the resultant, almost immediately darkness at this afternoon point really, and truly, frightened the hoodlum.

The thug fell like the rest, it wasn't intentional, nor to provide humor - it was situational. Part of his black had snapped towards the top, removing a sixth of what was left. His lighter had skittered a ways away, and so had his pistol. He could hear others coming too, and making their way to their feet, exclaiming confusion at what had happened.

That's when he saw them. Ghouls were coming, pouring out of nooks and crannies towards the convoy, with singular intent. He scrambled towards his gun, not yet on his feet and grabbed the weapon in two hands. Without thinking, he fired twice into the crowd of haunted expressions that desired to eat him. He hit none on the front row, but didn't want to stick around to see if any of the shots had found purchase. .

No, he whipped around and quickly took stock of what everyone was doing. Among the last he saw were Eli, and he wasn't anywhere near the trucks. The last he saw had jumped into one of the cars and barrelled away. Geoffrey couldn't find fault in such a course of action, though did feel anger that he wasn't taken along for the ride.

Hey, nigga, get back here!

His yells were fruitless, and almost summarily drowned out in his mind by someone yelling for Eli to head towards the building. No harm in playing follow the leader! He turned tail and forgot about the convoys, and hauled ass towards the building, slipping in somewhere in the middle of the pack.

The crowd barrelled through a second set of doors, and Geoffrey cut to the right, wheeling around his pistol and pointing it out as people flooded through. When the man finished placing the rods and came through, Geoffrey risked a peek. Seemingly all those that ran made it.

Shit, my nig, I don't know. But when I get my hands on that bastard that took a truck, we'll be down a person, Geoffrey growled before lowering his weapon.

I hope someone can tell me the same thing you're asking. It can't be any later than two forty-five, and it's as dark as night out there. Ghouls on our ass, and we're hold up in God damn store. This shit is not lit, wavy, or saucy. Try as he might, he couldn't hold back his street vernacular.

After fumbling around for a moment, he cursed himself - he didn't pick up his lighter. His left hand slid in his back pocket and retrieved another BIC lighter, this one black. He sparked up the remaining bit of his black and mild, taking a lengthy hit.

He needed to calm down. His eyes danced over the store, primarily clothing, and then over the people. Who knew how long they would be trapped here, the Ghouls weren't apt to give up on prey, especially when the day turned night. Geoffrey crouched against the nearby wall and took another drag. The smoke rose and passed his eyes, it was comforting.

Geoffrey didn't mention it, but before the explosion, he heard the laughter of a small girl around the area. He already thought himself a social pariah due to his criminal past, he didn't need them to also think he was crazy.

Still though, cigar smoke wafting around him, he liked closer to Eli and Garsin. If they were planning something, he wanted to have some idea of what it was and if he could be of use.

---

Unfortunately, Eli noted it was still dark outside as her creaked open the rear exit slowly. Unconsciously, he had been hoping to see the brilliant, muted rays of light streaming through the foliage clogged alleyway. He hadn't even realized that particular thought had lived within him until the disappointment hit him. He signaled for those immediately behind him to move out into the narrow space between the buildings. He was acting as the pointman, of course. This was a dangerous, and delicate situation. It was one that had everybody scared, including himself. He peered upwards into the afternoon night, thinking about the paradox that statement created. He was overwhelmed with the failure to come to any logical, reasonable conclusions. Even one of Washington's legendary storms, it shouldn't have been this dark. In fact, it had grown even darker.

Eli squinted towards the opening leading out towards the street. Shadows flickered across worn bricks and clusters of plants. Vines snaked their way down the sides of the buildings, but thankfully they remained stationary. Eli crouched against a thick cluster of ferns as he tried to see down the road before him. It was just too dark. He strained his ears instead, listening for the tell-tale signs of ghouls lurking around the bend. Nothing. That was strange, they had moved on rather quickly. Had that noise earlier really drawn all of them off, or had they migrated on their own, seeking easier prey? Either way, that was fortunate news for the group.

He turned to face the group and found himself face-to-face with Garsin and Geo, whom he had just met moments prior as he conversed with the other members of their little ragtag group. Fortunately, a few of these others seemed a little more capable than Eli had thought at first glance, but none of that would matter if they ran into a horde of ghouls. "Stay low, stay quiet," He said, following his own instructions as he dipped out into the street. He hugged the wall, moving slowly, ignoring the whispers of grass as he passed through their long, still stalks.

Eli skirted around a rather large root protruding forcefully from the wall, and soon found himself closer to the firelight and the dancing shadows. There were no other sounds, no growling or shuffling, not even the rustle of an occasional bush. He dared a glance around the corner. There was literally nothing but the gruesome scenery of mangled corpses. He wait, yet nothing stirred—Not even the bodies, at least, not yet. Some of them looked too damaged to resurrect as a ghoul anyways. Still, how much time had passed? How long did they have before those corpses woke up, hungry and pissed?

He was about to turn around, satisfied there was nobody else he could save when he caught the sight of a personnel truck buried halfway into a brick wall, shrouded by hanging vines, rubble, and tall fens waving slightly with the breeze. As if trying to subdue his glimmer of hope, he felt a cold, wet droplet splatter on his cheek. Confused, he looked around, before he noticed that it had begun to sprinkle. 'So that storm has finally decided to hit, eh?' he thought resolutely to himself.

"We got a mechanic?" He asked, turning back to the group of bodies behind him, most of which were cowering within the grass, trying to seem small and hide within their poor excuse for shelter.

"I am," A quiet voice spoke up. A woman shuffled to the forefront of the group.

"What's your name?" Eli asked, taking in the lithe woman with stormy, gray eyes.

"Abigail," She said through a noticeable, but light French accent, "Just call me Abi."

"Alright Abi, you think you can make sure that truck will get us home?" Eli asked, motioning behind him with thumb. She peeked around his shoulders, her face contorting as she studied the wreckage.

"Hard to tell from her, but my instincts say it doesn't look good."

"Well, it's that or we have a long hike back in this," He paused, "Darkness.."

"Right," She said, obviously thinking along the same lines. It was near suicide.

"Garsin, watch her back. Make sure nothing kills our only mechanic. Geo and.." Eli looked through his pool of candidates, "You there. Yes, you. Go up the rubble, quietly, keep and eye out. If you see something amiss don't yell, use a flashlight to signal us."

Eli stood, peering once more over his shoulder, "You two-" He said, pointing "-Watch the southern intersection. The rest of you stay near the truck, keep eyes on the windows and alleys. Lets try to get home in one piece, yea?" He finished with a soft, lighthearted chuckle.

For Eli however, he was going to make sure those bodies stayed dead.

---

R E F U G E

Sergeant Docker grimaced at the papers held before him in thick, calloused fingers. Smoked streamed through his teeth, currently clenched around the thick end of a cigar. He slapped the papers down, scattering some small objects on his desk, and moved his massive frame from the chair struggling to hold him, to the window. It's not that he was fat, but he was bulky. Years of serving in the military, combined with a mixture of Germanic and Icelandic heritage, would do that to a man. The paper he had been reading was a dossier on none other than Eli Shuppert, and frankly, Docker didn't know what the mayor saw in him. Yet, he shrugged. The mayor was entitled to her fancies, even if that meant letting some soldier start his own special operatives unit.

That worried him, somewhat. Though, Eli didn't look capable to enact a militaristic coup. On the other hand, Mayor Guzman didn't seem capable to resist a well organized mutiny within the structure of her own settlement. He grimaced, fingering the stubble along the edges of his jawline. Then there was that fellow, what was his name.. Theron? Jackson Theron. That's right. He was starting some sort of unionized movement, something about better pay for unskilled laborers. Docker shook his head slightly, people always wanted what others had. It was a wonder this place was holding together at all.

As he contemplated the rising problems of the town, a shadow cast itself over the immediate area he had been observing. He hadn't actually been looking at anything special, in fact it was just the parking lot in front of the command center, with few vehicles and even fewer bodies milling about. He let out another heavy sigh, turning back to the reports on his desk. He should be out there, reassuring the people and forming bonds with them that wouldn't break instead of staring at the reasons why the fishermen weren't hauling in as much as they used to. More pay this, more food that. This whole system of self-management was a farce, but Guzman insisted it made the people happy.

"If it made them so fucking happy why do I have a desk full of problems?" He grumbled. Arguably, some of them were small problems, like the petty theft census. People didn't want to work together, they wanted to work for themselves and take what others had. He knew first hand what happened when you let all of these little problems stack up. He had just sat down to starting cleaning up some of those problems when his door burst open. The cigar shot from his mouth, flipping end over end as it spiraled into a stack of papers.

"For fuck's sake man! Can't you knock?" Docker shouted, getting up to retrieve his cigar from where it had rolled onto the floor.

"Eh..S-sorry VP, It's just.." The boy stammered, he couldn't have been past twenty, "It's about the convoy. They established radio communication, but it was garbled.. full of white noise. I couldn't make out anything but the screams really, and then the transmissions stopped altogether."

"The screams, son?" Docker questioned in a more fatherly way. The kid seemed to respond better to that.

"Yes sir, they were under attack, we think by ghouls."

"Ghouls? Ghouls?" Docker questioned, his face scrunching in confusion, "How could there be ghouls out in the middle of the afternoon?"

The kid looked taken aback at that, he had to take a moment to recompose himself, "Uh.. Sir.. have you looked outside?"

Docker's eyebrow rose as he looked over at his window. It was dark, not like a cloud passing in front of the sun, but actually dark. "How the fuck?" He asked, before the gears and cogs began whirling in his mind.

"Fuck me. Kid," He began, striding forward and taking a quick moment to catch the boy's name. "Cadet Wilson, radio the other lawkeepers, even those off duty, I want the night curfew enacted now."

"Yes sir!" The cadet said with a reassured nod. That's what kids like him were good for, taking orders. He'd grow up to be a fine enforcer.

Docker left his office only to nearly run into Mayor Guzman's thin, rail-like figure.

"What's happening Docker?" She asked neutrally. No panic, always the proper delegate.

"Do I look like a fucking scientist to you? It's night, in the afternoon, I'm enacting the night curfew."

He moved to step around her but she slipped before him again, blocking his path. "What about the convoy?"

"I don't know, we haven't heard back yet," Docker said irritably, weaving himself around he with surprising grace. "Now if you'll excuse me," He said curtly.

Docker made his way outside. There were other people here, some of which were just standing there staring at the sky, shocked in stillness by disbelief. Docker clapped his hands together, starling them out of their trances. "Sullivan!"

"Yes sir?" Sully replied, jogging to close the small gap between himself and the VP.

"Up on the wall, make sure it's properly manned. I sense a shit-storm."

* * * A Few Hours Later * * *

"Just treat it like any other night," Docker told himself. He wasn't smart enough to contemplate what had happened, nor was he philosophical. He'd just spent the last few hours organizing his forces to contain the spread of panic and get everyone situation within their homes. Thankfully, things had been quiet so far. Since it wasn't technically night yet, Docker was considering allowing the public back out into the streets, as long as they maintained a relatively low level of noise. Refuge was far enough out of the way that they didn't necessarily have to whisper, but there was to be no loud work like forging, or god forbid, gunfire.

Docker found himself outside the command center, taking stock of the situation. He caught sight of Guzman making her way over to him, her strides purposeful and her sharp eyes were set on Docker. He sighed inwardly, would the woman ever stop nagging him? Before she could pin him down with more of her bureaucratic crap or questions, a guardsman called down from the tower"

"Truck coming!"

"Thank God," Guzman breathed.

Docker came over, scaled the ladder up the watchtower with ease, and peered out into the direction the soldier was pointing at. Sure enough there were a pair of headlights coming closer, approaching with enough speed to churn up the smaller plants that broke through the asphalt. Docker couldn't help noticed the light, feminine huffs coming up the ladder behind him. Didn't she have babies to kiss or something?

"There's only one," Guzman observed.

"There's a second one coming from the other end," The soldier noted.

"Why would they-" Guzman pondered, but Docker cut her off.

"Ghouls," he breathed.

"What?" Guzman asked, confused.

"Ghouls. Look, behind the trucks," He handed her a pair of binoculars, her eyes weren't attuned like his were to notice things like that. From this distance, it was minute, but noticeable. It had been days since ghouls had found their way to the wall, and even then that had just been a small, roaming pack. This.. this was..

"Radio the wall teams, and tell them to stop by the armory.. We're going to need bigger guns."

"What about the trucks?" The soldier asked Docker as the VP began his descent down the ladder.

"They've got a little bit of a lead but there's not enough time for the trucks. Open the gates just enough for them to squeeze through, no bigger than a person. Even if the ghouls catch up we can still get them closed."

"Yes sir," The soldier nodded.

Docker was barely halfway to the armory, connected to the Command Center, before bodies began streaming in. Soldiers in fatigues, lawkeepers in trench coats and vests and distinguished hats, and other volunteers. By the time the soldiers shouted out a warning that the gates were opening, bodies were flowing towards the wall laden with gear and ammo. There was a lot of wall to protect, they were undermanned and under-gunned. They didn't have enough resources, holding back a tide of ghouls like that would be a miracle. Every god forsaken ghoul in the city must be stampeding towards the gates. He was going to have some very unpleasant words with whoever was driving those fucking trucks when this was all over. If he was still alive.

"This is going to be one hell of a fight," He said with a grimace, flipping open his tin of cigars. I don't even like cigars, he thought as he trudged towards the wall.

---

I N T H E T R U C K W I T H F R E D

* * * A Few Hours Later * * *

The driver was panicking, his heart was thumping out of control, as if it were trying to rip its way from his chest. There was a guy sitting next to him, he didn't know who he was. The guy was one of those types with a strong chin, like a hero, but with a scar through it. He looked tough, like he knew his shit. That didn't help. The driver's hands were shaking so badly it was a wonder he could keep the truck on the rough, bumpy road. Plants whipped by, each one sending tremors through the terrified man. At times, the vines were so thick, or the fens and ferns were so tall he couldn't see through them. Still, he plowed onwards, uncaring of what was before him because he knew what was behind—The tide of ghouls.

And they were leading them straight home.

To his home.

They were all going to die.

He was going to die.

The better man in him knew he should just throw the wheel to the side, wreck the truck into something thick and large and hope that killed him. But, inside, everybody wanted to live, right? It wasn't just him, right? No.. no.. the walls would hold. They'd shoot back all the ghouls, he'd live, they'd all live.

...Right?

Fred was confused about all the fuss when they came, the people manning the gates seemed to be agitated, all looking overhead and only keeping the people in the truck in the periphery of their thought. With a few hops the man was on top of the truck and was looking back, and giggled. "Shouldn't have honked. They didn't just bring knife fork and spoon, they also tucked in a napkin and called the whole family! Getting down and back in the truck's seat beside the driver he slapped him on the shoulder while grabbing some miscellaneous stuff in it; a few of his casings and turning off the radio. "Scared, pussy? Don't worry! We'll be fine. You're only alive because some bastard with a shit sense of humour on the sky wanted you to be, and I don't think he'll suddenly get a good sense of humour so you're good dude. If this goes tits up I ain't taking the blame though." With that said he got behind the walls, trying his best not to wet himself. Why was he scared? An idea struck him that quickly got most of his fear removed. 

"I'll be right back, I'll just uh... prepare and shit." He said, hoping all the people rushing to the walls wouldn't see that he was striding in the opposite direction. When he got home he grabbed some of his food, picked up his plants and other assorted tidbits he'd need and put them on his boat, and turned on the engine. The walls would hold, of course they would! But they might not. They will, but they might not. Of course there were a few more... things he had about the house he wanted to put on his boat in case he would go to run the fuck away but so long as the couple in his house and others were alive head rather not pull at them. No need for the nosy bastards to know what they had no business knowing. Finally he ran back in and put on a bycicle helmet, then he grabbed some books, bits of metal shit and anything else he could get to tape on himself should the fuckers out there try to bite him. Soldier boys thought their uniforms and vests could help them but they wouldn't mean shit. He never heard of nobody getting bit or even scratched in the torso by a ghoul, but a toothy fucker would easily get your arms and legs, or even your face if they pinned you down. Even a chunk of cardboard on his knee would save your ass in a pinch, or bite rather. 

Finally he ran back, probably looking a bit like an idiot he realized but he'd certainly be a living idiot. Finally he got back with his pistol loaded and the laser sight on, getting to the walls. The ghouls were almost in proper firing distance although he thought he heard a few panicking shots of maybe sharpshooters but people were waiting for them to be just a little closer to let her rip. He just hoped none of those big shits would be around, they might just ram through the walls. He took aim and prayed to Jesus or Allah or whoever was listening the walls wouldn't collapse. This was a nice place, he'd hate to leave it.

Garsin nodded to Eli and started following Ali. As they were approaching the vehicle, he reached for her shoulder. "Hold up," he started,"Let me check around the vehicle and the hole first and make sure everything is clear." There was just enough space between what was left of the wall and the truck itself for him to squeeze through if he cleared the vegetation there. Instead of singing wildly at the plants though, he holstered his brush axe behind him and pulled out his knife to cut through the vegetation as quietly as possible. He checked on Ali, to make sure she was still there, and went back to business. He peered through the gap before entering to make sure it was clear. Oddly enough it, it was, or at least seemed to be. He looked around and above and didn't see anything, which to him was just strange. Whatever was going on around them must have caught the attention of every ghoul in the city. He then turned back to Ali and let her know what he was planning.

"Alright, I'm gonna get on the other side of this and push it back out. It looks like most of the debris is clear of the truck after I cut the plants off. Since the keys are most likely still there, I'll throw it in neutral and bring it out so it should be easier to work on. Keep the use of lights to a minimum though. We still don't know what's out here." Once inside, he was able to open the door to the truck and saw something he probably should have checked for. There were two bodies lying there in the seats, the driver and passenger, and while it looks like the truck has been here for a bit, there was dried blood everywhere, and the windshield was broken. Though the bodies were still, Garsin was sure that there was a high probability they were ghouls. Luckily, they were strapped in by the seat-belts because just as he had come to the conclusion, the driver tried to lunge at him, struggling against his seat belt. This seemed to make the passenger rile up as well.

Garsin jumped at first, but his fight or flight response told him to punch. The strike landed and smashed the creature's nose in, which stunned it for a second but out of recoil, not pain. Garsin took advantage of this and reached out out grabbing the thing by the throat to steady it as he drove his knife into its skull, almost immediately silencing it. He then went to the other side and dispatched the other in a somewhat similar fashion, and all was quiet again. He dragged the two bodies out of the truck and applied the coup' de grace with a boot to the head, just to be sure.

After that mess was clear he peered out of the whole back to where Ali was and waved. "Just a little hold up, but we're good." He then opened lifted himself up to the driver's side and, after seeing the keys were still in, put it in neutral. He walked back to the front and started to push. The truck was heavy, yes, but honestly, this brought memories of the old days before this whole incident occurred back when he was doing strongman competitions. Garsin did a few stretches and then leaned up against the front of the truck. Taking a few good breaths he then put his power into pushing the truck out of the hole it was in. He heard the truck creak and scratch against the brick, cement and rebar, and it seemed that one of the wheels were blown, but the spare on the back should work to replace that. Finally, the truck was out and Garsin was able to stop it as well, thankful that this area was relatively flat. He put it back in park and popped the hood.

When he jumped out he stopped Ali again before she could get to the engine. "Just one more thing, then she's all yours." He walked to the back of the truck to the doors that would hold the personnel. It was just as he thought. there was no sign of anything breaching the back of the truck, but it was a personnel truck, so there had to be people. But it seems they all died in the crash, save for the one or two that took their own lives rather than deal with the ghouls. While they obviously hadn't turned, Garsin didn't want to take the chance or have them turned later, so he made sure that wouldn't be an issue, and looked for any gear they may have had. Mostly medical supplies, some food, a hunting knife, and the one pistol the one guy used to end his nightmare. Garsin checked the little compact 9mm and found the two extra mags the guy had on him. He made sure the parts worked and then put it on safe. He put the food and medical supplies in his pack and tossed out the bodies. After hopping out, he handed the knife, pistol and spare mags to Ali. "Here, in case you need it, don't shoot unless you have to. Don't want anything left in the area to know we are still here." He then opened up the hood and looked at it as well while setting the hood prop so it stayed open. "Alright, here you go, I'll keep an eye out for you, but if you need me just let me know. I'm no master mechanic but I have had my fair share of dealing with the family vehicles," he chuckled.

Garsin then looked around at how everyone else was doing. Everyone seemed to be doing fine, which was a good sign, but he still felt uneasy. It was going too well. Normally there should be hundreds of ghouls in this area at this level of darkness, but they're nearly all gone. He took off his helmet and wiped his brow with a sigh. He hoped everyone else was fine, but he just couldn't shake the feeling that it wasn't. The way things have been today, he wasn't all that sure what to think. He had just been rolling with the punches so far. He took out his flask and took a swig. Felt good to have a little something. For his size it wasn't much, but he was happy he took it along. But he knew he needed more than that so he put it up and took out his canteen, unclipping the carabiner the clipped onto a metal ring on his pack. He made sure to drank slowly to avoid getting sick or cramping as he approached Ali again. He made sure to listen if she needed anything and he kept an eye out for anything around them that might mean danger. In the mean time, he got a couple of the people who were waiting around the truck to start replacing the tire with the spare, so that it will be ready when the truck is running.

Their leader, Eli, had doled out the orders. Two were sent to check on the status of the truck, and to see if it could be fixed into operational order to get them the hell out of there. On the other hand, Geoffrey and another had been tasked with traversing upward on some rubble, and keeping watch on what was going on with the ghouls.

Geoffrey looked over at the person tasked with his same goal. It was a tall man, athletic by the looks of it, a basketball player in a former life, Geoffrey knew the type. Tall, strong, but most importantly, fast. He threw a quick upward nod, and then motioned towards the guy, and headed towards their destination.

Between their beginning and end, they made small talk, whereabouts they had been. Geoffrey had to repeat some statements, his vernacular not all the way known to everyone.

Finding purchase atop the rubble, his partner - named Archibald, clutched the flashlight in shaking hands. Geoffrey's lit black and mild smoke wafted in the air as they watched the intersection, the ghouls shambling and bumping into each other.

For the most part, events seemed uneventful, as much as they could under the current circumstances. Archibald began to calm down, Geoffrey could feel the nerves of his partner relaxing, the man began to life and joke a little more, spotting celebrity look a likes in the crowd of ghouls that had assembled below. Geoffrey recognized some of them, by name, but hadn't been a big TV watcher in his past life. He had other things to worry about.

More minutes passed, before Archibald tugged at his sleeve and pointed out towards the back of the pack. Ghouls, by the tens, were being forced apart by something substantially larger than they.

Geo, is that what I think it is?

There was no answer that Geoffrey could have given that would have stilled the nerves that flared back up. They both knew what was going on, and what was coming towards them from the rear of the sea of ghouls.

Archie, get to flickin' that light you got. Things 'bout to get turnt up real quick.' What came towards them was a Beserker, he had seen one once, and only once. Seeing it again was a flashback to a worse time when one wrecked a small settlement he had taken up home in.

They were heavy hitters, hard as all get out to put down, and even harder to protect from. He didn't know what the situation was with the truck, but if there was a God, Geoffrey's black upbringing kicked in and he sent a silent prayer up. Get that son of a bitch working.

There was still some time, and with Archie signalling away towards Eli and the others, Geoffrey took up a sturdier position, sort of leaving Archie out to pasture, so to speak. His gun in hand, he aimed outward, but didn't pull the trigger.

This was gonna get nasty.

---

"CHATTE BAISEE," Abigail cursed, wrenching her hands free from the confines of the cramped space within the wrecked truck's front end. She waved her hand, shaking away the pain. The front end was smashed inwards so badly that the metal had split apart in places, leaving her with a jumbled mess of sharp ends to work her hands through. Still, it was nothing compared to what the ghouls would do to her, of that she was certain.

"T'en fais un peu de merde!" She commanded, working her free arm back in. She had quickly noticed an immediate problem as to why the truck wasn't starting, a fuel line had popped off from the force of the impact the truck had made with the wall, though at first glance it appeared the wall had lost that battle. No true. Currently, she was attempting to patch the fuel lines while some idle hands worked on changing a tire. Further inspection had revealed that the security door to the passenger cage on the back had been knocked off, the radiator was cracked, and there was a whole mess of seals and valves that were splitting, or broken. She didn't have time to get everything.

She cursed again, triumphantly as her fingers snaked around the loose line. Eli shot her a glance from where he was huddled over a body, with his knife plunged into the corpse's skull. Abi smiled abashedly, making a note to herself to try and remember not to be so loud. She threaded the line towards the underbelly of the beastly machine, where she could get at it more easily, before stepping back from the truck. Blood coated her right hand from a pretty decent gash. There wasn't time to worry about that.

"How can I help?" A voice asked from behind her.

Abi peered over her shoulder coming face-to-face with a gruff looking feller; Dirty tan jacket, blood on the sleeves, and a pretty mangled leg. Three-day old stubble wasn't doing him any favors either, Abi noted. He should try a mustache, it would make that nose look less prominent..

Abigail coughed and crouched in front of the truck's front bumper, "You know anything 'bout mechanics?" She asked in her telling french drawl.

"Ah.. No."

"Then you can stay the fuck out of my way, Yea?" Abigail stated bluntly to whomever the fuck that guy thought he was. She pulled herself past the gore stuck to the bumper and underneath the truck, where a mangled fuel line awaited her. Fucking stupid Scavs, she thought, No real skills to speak of, but discontent with sitting quietly while the people who knew what the fuck they were doing did their jobs. Couldn't he go scrounge up some common sense or something? Honestly. On second thought, a shot of something that tasted like shit would have been better.

The minutes ticked by as Abigail worked, shredding her hands on the broken, jagged pieces of metal as she worked to bandage some rather pressing problems. A cracked motor mount, as impressive as that was (Damn things were near indestructible); A Radiator half smashed into, and half bent around, the engine block. Oil and blood coated her hands, mysterious fluids fell into her eyes, and to top it all off she had a couple of mutilated friends to keep her company. Dead friends, she had made sure of that.

"Hows it going?"

"Fuck off ta chatte curieuse," She said.

Eli raised his eyebrows and decided it was probably best not to poke his head down there. He made himself content instead by hopping up onto the tail-end of the truck, where the door should have been, and having himself a smoke. Geo's partner up on the rubble had signaled some trouble, but as long as the trouble stayed on the other side of that rubble Eli was happy to leave it there. Another team was positioned at the intersection, but no flashes meant everything was good over there. He took a long pull on his cig, and let it out slowly. They may just make it out of this after all. He still wondered where all the ghouls that had been out here went, but for now, he was willing to tackle one problem at a time. Not that the lack of ghouls was a problem, per say. In fact, he thought, that might be the only blessing he'd had today.

That was until, a body hit the ground right in front of him.

---

R E F U G E

Monday, June 1^st, 2111

"SULLIVAN," Sergeant Docker shouted, motioning the haggard-eyed man over, "Asset report, what do we got?"

Sully cleared his throat, and for a moment his eyes lingered out into the distance where a seemingly unending army of ghouls was rapidly bearing down on them. "Uh.. Well, Sir. We've been out of touch with the Hellboys. We also haven't heard from the 13th Coast Guard in awhile, last transmission from them said something about a large scale seize and capture operation, they wanted to take back a naval yard."

"Spare me the details son, we don't have time for that."

"Right," Sully said, clearing his throat once more. The ghouls were coming closer, nearly close enough now. The trucks had already made it to the gates and the passengers were long gone. He could almost feel the hot breath of those monsters on his face. "Tanton Estates are too far out, and too little in number to be of any real use to us. White's Nomads are on their way, but I've only ever seen maybe twenty of them, so it doesn't sound very hopeful. That, and they'll be on the wrong side of the firing lines."

"Hm.." Docker growled, "What about Hectar's Crew?"

"The R.S.O found their bodies around two weeks ago."

"Chic.. Chicas.. Forties?" Docker struggled, he wasn't one for speaking spanish.

"Chicos Fuertes, the Strong Boys," Sullivan explained, "We bailed them out last month, but they refused to leave their warehouse. We haven't heard from them since, most of us assumed they'd been overrun, nobody's had the time to check."

"We really are all that's left out here, aren't we?" Docker confirmed solemnly.

That seemed to settle the tension in the air into one of despair, and both of them fell silent.

"What about our assets?"

"Well.. Sir, it's not great. Since the Mayor's continual denial of our request to raid the bases around here, we've been running low on the good stuff. Eli's got .. or, he had the rest of our military vehicles excluding two humvees. We've got the heavy guns mounted on the walls, and a few cases of explosive ordnance, launchers and satchels mostly. I've already confiscated any construction demolitions we could acquire, and hauling as much fuel to the walls as we can muster."

"Fuel boy? You intend to be like the Romans and dump hot oil on them?"

"Something like that Sir."

"Guzman was right to believe in you."

Sullivan shrugged at the compliment, the Sergeant knew how he felt about Guzman. No, his loyalties were to those who were capable, people like Sergeant Docker.

"SERGEANT!" One of the soldiers called from where he crouched with a white-knuckled grip on a machinegun emplacement bolted to the watchtower's floor. Docker pulled his attention back to the bloody business at hand, and stopped. Not that he was doing anything particularly active to begin with, but the very air around him seemed frozen. The ghouls had stopped. Odd, yes, but there was no sense of hope budding within him. They had stopped just outside of the clear.

"Sullivan, see to the defences," Docker commanded, though his eyes never left the enemy lines.

Enemy lines. How? It was impossible, but true. The ghouls stood at the very edge of the clear, just a few steps in. Rows, upon rows of them, formed up perfectly like a well disciplined army. One that hunched over and pawed at the air like feral animals, but, Ghouls didn't form up. They came in uncaring, senseless waves. Sergeant Docker's hands trembled as he pried a cigar from its case. He wasn't really craving one, but his hands were on autopilot. He didn't know what else to do. What else could he do?

A shot popped off, followed by a few more. The soldiers were scared, no, they were terrified. A few bodies from the ghoul's front ranks fell to the ground, either still, or thrashing about in pain. Another shot echoed through the quiet air, a sharp, powerful crack. Docker could actually see the ghoul whose head exploded, spraying its wild brothers with blood and gore. The lifeless body fell to the ground, and another simply stepped forward. They didn't move, they didn't flinch, they didn't feel. It was the perfect army. It was in that very moment, as panicked shots rang out around him, dropping ghoul after ghoul only to have their spot quietly replaced, that Docker knew—They were all going to die tonight.

Another cracked shattered the air, but this time it wasn't a gun. No, it was the angry bellowing from the clouds above. They roared with force enough to vibrate the wall Docker was standing upon. As if heralded by their mighty call, raindrops began pouring down around them. It took seconds for the sprinkling of water to change into torrential sheets that came down so violently they stung his cheeks. It was a cold, bitter kind of rain. Lightning arched along the underbelly of the rumbling storm clouds, briefing illuminating the ranks of ghouls spanning the clear. They stretched out to either side, so many bodies deep that Docker couldn't see the end of them. Their army disappeared into the jungle behind them, but he could see endless shadows milling amongst them. Some were disturbingly larger than others.

Suddenly, in a single, unified call, the ghouls howled into the night. Docker had never understood the term 'Blood Curdling' until that moment, were it seemed as if it had seized inside his veins and stopped moving, where his body was so tense and rigid that he felt he may just break from the pressure sinking into the pit of his belly. It went on, for some time. Seconds, only, but it seemed like forever. The practical side of his mind knew exactly what they were doing, it was a common battle tactic. Strike fear into the hearts of your enemy, show them resistance is futile. He just didn't understand how. Why. Why now?

A single, silhouetted form strode forward from the ranks of hungry undead. The end of a long coat hung down the figure's frame, which wasn't unnatural in itself. Except for the raging storm winds. Docker's own jacket seemed to be trying to tear itself away from his body, but that.. that thing's cloak hung unnaturally still. The figure stood with poise, perching itself atop a small mound of rubble, clearly identifying itself as some sort of authority. A single second passed before two guns fired, two shots cracked out into the air, and two bullets pierced into whatever had stepped forward. Docker, despite the situation, let a small, grim smile play across his lips. His men were well trained, even when terrified beyond the point of proper sanity.

The figure stood still as the soldiers waited with baited breath, waiting for it to topple. It never did. Instead, it raised a single arm into the air. The ghouls behind him stood a little taller, even as they become more agitated and frenzied, and like some great conductor of death, the figure motioned them forward. Docker hadn't expected the ground to actually rumble as the creatures charged, but it did. He didn't expect the enormous chunks of rubble that flew from the ghoul's backline either. Chunks of debris larger than a normal man could throw smashed into the wall, tearing great, gaping holes in their perimeter. Men cried out as they were flung from the catwalks, but far too many of them were bone chillingly silent. A great thunderous crash exploded next to Docker, and before he could grasp what was happening he was sailing through the air. He hit the ground in a bruised heap as wreckage and splintered rubble rained down around him.

Docker struggled to hit feet, his vision blurry. Before him men screamed in terror, in hopeless panic. Half of them were abandoning their positions. A large chunk of another building had crashed through the front of the command center. Off to the side, flames were slowly licking their way up some of the closer residential units—Sullivan's plan for the fuel had backfired. But with the ghouls, or rather, the berserkers catapulting those projectiles.. How could they have prepared against that? Ghouls were pouring through the holes in the wall, which weren't as large as Docker had first envisioned them. Even berserkers had limited strength, it seemed. Hell broke out around him.

Sergeant Prestine Docker flipped the safety on his rifle, and charged into the war they had already lost. But he would fight. By God's Grace, he would fight.

---

E L I

Monday, June 1^st, 2111

Eli stared down at the woman's corpse lying in a mangled heap in front of him. He had actually heard her bones shatter as she hit the ground. He quickly tracked her trajectory, she had come in from the right, which meant she had been near the intersec—Oh, he thought mildly. A large, brutish shape was rampaging through the group he had stationed their. It had some so suddenly they hadn't even had time to scream before the berserker had hit a homerun with that, now dead, woman's face. Well, they screamed now. Elijah launched himself from the back of the truck, raising his gun and firing at the brute of a ghoul, though it seemed to just merely howl in annoyance.

"Abi!" He said, letting the words tail off.

"I know!" She called back, though she remained beneath the truck.

"ABI."

"MERDE, ALRIGHT," She snarled, dragging herself out, "You better hope this bitch holds together."

"We're out of time Abi!" Eli called over the sounds of his gun firing. The berserker let out a deep, guttural howl as his smaller cousins came spilling out from around the corner. Eli spun to call down the two watchmen on the rubble pile, but it seemed they had already gotten the idea. Or rather, he noticed, there were more ghouls coming up over the rubble, and in their lead was another Big Ugly. 'Had they been waiting?' He wondered, before his mind quickly pulled itself back to the chaos forming around him.

Bodies began piling into the truck. Those inside jammed the muzzles of their guns between the spaces of the personnel cage and let loose a poorly aimed torrent of fire. As if a surprise attack from ghouls wasn't enough, it began to rain. Thunder snapped overheard, the roar of a mighty, godlike beast voicing its displeasure.

"LET'S GO LET'S GO!" He yelled. One of the stragglers, terror contorting the features of his face, was snatched from the road like a child. The berserker yelled, much like a wild ape, and shook the poor man around something akin to how a dog would with a toy. Eli watched the man's head snap back and forth, far too loosely for it to be intact.

"WE'RE LEAVING TU BAISE!" Abigail yelled over the roar of the engine.

The truck wheezed to life, with a few concerning clinks and clanks. Abigail reversed, ripping its front end away from the shattered wall and leaving her dead undercarriage buddies behind. She braked so hard Eli nearly flew out the back. He grabbed the edges of the protective cage to keep himself from tumbling out as Abigail floored the truck in drive. He thought he heard her shout something from the driver's cab, but whatever she had said was lost among the cacophony of ghouls thudding against the front end as she plowed through them. They just barely skirted past the berserker, who swung at them in a wild rage. Eli felt as if he'd caught the breeze from that swing, but it was just the wind picking up as the storm poured down everything it had, as violently as it could.

This was going to get really shitty, really fast. Driving conditions in the jungle were already poor, but with this kind of weather, it was going to get muddy real fast. The rain was buffered somewhat from the thick canopies overhead, but the force of the wind was causing the long-necked trees to sway, and the downpour of raindrops shot through the gaps like bullets. Abigail took a corner hard, whipping through the undergrowth of jungle flora and slamming her passengers against the side of the truck. Eli hit particularly hard, since he had been standing. The truck shook as she sped over uneven ground, but Eli didn't blame her for the speed. The ghouls were giving chase, and the runners were still managing to catch up. His hope waned as they plowed through another herd of angry, undead bodies. Chunks of flesh and limbs whipped against the side of the truck, and a stray hand went sailing over the top of the cage as the entire vehicle rocked violently, slamming into the ghouls.

Another hard corner, and Eli tumbled across the floor of the tail-bed. Before he could reorient himself, Abigail was forced to take another sharp turn. The ghouls were everywhere, pouring down streets as if the truck had some sort of beacon on it that said 'Come and eat me'. Actually, they seemed to only be giving chase half-heartedly, except for the runners, who were making a good show of keeping up with the truck. No, Eli was overthinking it. Ghouls weren't smart, they were predatory, but easily discouraged if they lost their prey. Thunder rumbled overhead, but Eli thought he heard something beneath the trumpeting of the clouds. Had that been clicking? He looked out to his right, but he couldn't make out any sign of a stalker.

A second letter the truck lurched as Abigail skidded into a left turn. Ghouls gave chase from the side streets behind them. Eli strained his ears as they tore down the round. There, he had almost missed it, clicking from his right. A moment later, the truck hurled into another left turn. Now that he knew what to listen for, he could hear it every. There was clicking all around them, following them, herding them. 'My God', he thought, 'They're herding us."

He didn't have to wait long. Another sharp turn, and a particularly rough introduction between his face and a supporting metal arch, and the truck came to a dirt-churning, rock-tossing, violent halt.

"Oh my god," One of the passengers breathed.
"We're dead, we're so fucking dead," Another said.

Eli ignored the whimpering and the crying, Abigail had slid to a stop at a slight angle, and it wasn't difficult to realize why. A wall of rubble, rock, and burned out automobiles loomed before them. Not piled up haphazardly, but forming a literal wall.

"Why would somebody block the road?" A woman wailed.

"Not somebody," Eli started, so quiet that he could barely be heard, "Something."

Eli silently thanked whatever God was up there, or Gods, or whatever, for his own foresight. He slid out of the truck, ignoring the howls of the ghouls closing in all of the adjoining streets and alleyways behind them. It seemed they had finally been spurred into action, and whatever was directing them wasn't taking any chances, he could hear windows shattering as they spilled into the buildings. Somehow, the little buggers had managed to set a trap. But, fortunately for the living, Eli was paranoid. And paranoia, meant preparation. He flipped open a side compartment, tearing out cases and boxes that were useless to him at this particular juncture in his life. He tore through a second compartment frantically. The third compartment had was he was looking for. Guns were going off around him now as whoever wasn't too terrified to move covered him.

Eli flipped open the long case and pulled out a thick, hollow tube—Technically, he had wanted this to use against Berserker's, but it would work against a wall too. He loaded the end of it, and without any prelude fired at the wall. A fiery explosion bloomed before him, throwing shrapnel and debris pretty much everywhere. The heat from the explosion licked his skin, and Eli had to turn away. The wall crumbled outwards, spilling to the ground, cars crushing beneath their own weight. They'd still have a hell of a time plowing through what still littered the road, but it was better than nothing.

"BACK IN THE TRUCK!" He yelled, ushering those that had taken up stances outside the truck back into personnel cage. Abigail was revving the engine as Eli lifted himself in, always the last aboard, like a good commander should be. The truck lurched forward and he felt the weight of their sudden acceleration pull against him. No, not the moment, a hand. Eli looked down in horror at the thick hand crushing his torso. He tried to cry out warning, but he could only gurgle up a few construed sounds. Hands reached out for him, guns raised, but all of that grew distant as Eli was hurled into the air.

There was something calm, almost serene, when the weight of the pit in your stomach became so dense that you knew—You just knew, that you were moments away from death. Time slows, and in those few seconds of life you have left, you have time to reflect. Sailing above a crowd of hungry ghouls really put things into perspective, or so Eli thought. He also wondered how many style points the judges would give him as his broken body flipped and tumbled through the air.

He closed his eyes as he came down hard, the impact jarring him so forcefully that he felt he could feel each and every individual bone that broke. Oddly enough, he didn't actually feel it. It was more like he noticed it, with a kind of crisp clarity. Idly, he reached for his cigarette case, but found his pocket empty. He laughed at his own forgetfulness, he'd let it at home. That's right. He promised Ai he would quit, oh how Jo would get a laugh out of that when she heard. Then the rotting hands and twisting mouths came down, interrupting his thoughts, and everything became cold, and dark.

When Garsin saw the first berserker alone, he pulled out his bush ax, ready to defend the truck, which seemed to be their only way out of here. What he didn't expect was that there were now two berserkers followed by more ghouls that just seemed to show up out of nowhere. Cursing under his breath, Garsin put his hemet back on and buckled the strap, just in time to deal with the first runners. They weren't much of a problem to deal with, though Garsin kept a watchful eye on the hulking best not to far behind them. He then heard the truck start up and jumped into the truck, holding out a hand and hauling people up so that they got in faster. With the few runners out of the way, they had a small gap before lumbering giants got too close. Once all the survivors were on board, Garsin shifted to where he held the sides of the railing around the door to block the entrance himself so that nothing could get in.

Holding on was a tough job, however, with all of the twists and turns. He didn't hear anything about them being herded because he was concentrating on holding on. Suddenly, they came to a stop, and it wasn't until he turned to look at why that he pieced together what he was hearing them talk about. They had been routed and trapped with nowhere to go. However, it seemed that Eli had a plan. Garsin jumped out the back of the truck with whoever else had the guts to do so to cover Eli as he dug around in the truck's compartments. By now, Garsin and the others were fending off runners and even a few regular ghouls that had caught up to the stopped truck.

Then there was a sharp burst followed by the sound of something screaming through the air and finding its mark in a loud explosion. To Garsin's surprise, it seemed that Eli had produced an rpg of sorts and blasted a hole in the wall that had weakened it to the point that it fell apart. Without much else, they started jumping back in the truck, with Garsin again pulling people in to get them in faster. As Garsin was pulling Eli in, however, he saw another massive hand grab hold....another berserker. Eli was ripped from his grip with ease as the monster threw the young man back and toward the mass of ghouls. "NOOO," Garsin exclaimed, "EEELLLLIII!" Garsin almost moved to jump out after him out of instinct to save the boy but a couple people pulled him back in so he wouldn't share the same fate. "DAMMIT," he shouted once more as he pulled out his revolver and started firing at the berserker. Shots rang out from all around to put the beast down, stalling it just long enough for Ali to hit the gas and start charging through the mess at their new escape route.