Group A – Part One
The WGON-TV helicopter flew through the air for most of the night, and the sun was beginning to rise. "Look, man," Peter said, tapping Roger on the shoulder. He pointed to Stephen, who was flying the chopper. He had dozed off to sleep. Roger tapped Stephen across the chest with a water canteen. The pilot took a swig from the canteen and also poured some water onto his face.
"Where are we?" Fran asked. She looked out the small window of the chopper. Several undead shambled along listlessly in the streets below them. "Somewhere around Wisconsin," Stephen answered. Peter leaned over and peered through the window. "How much fuel do we got left Flyboy?" Peter asked. Stephen looked back at Peter. His face was sullen, tired. Peter didn't need an answer.
"I think we should stop somewhere, yeah?" Roger asked, looking back at Fran and Peter. His gaze returned to Stephen. "We all need some sleep, and the bird doesn't have much juice left. I think we need to catch a breath." Peter nodded solemnly. Fran was digging into her satchel, and emerged with a small clipboard with a thick leaflet of papers on it.
"What is it?" Peter asked, clutching his M-16 as he looked at the papers. "They're rescue stations. All of them were operative 48 hours ago, but I'm not sure about now. We could find the closest one, and try to get there." Stephen looked back excitedly. He didn't seem fatigued, not anymore. They were gonna get somewhere safe! He looked back at Fran. "We're near Milwaukee, Frannie. What's the closest place?"
Fran hurriedly scanned down the list with her index finger, flipping pages at random intervals. "The closest place is," Fran began, searching the pages frantically. "A place called Fort Pastor. The official county listed is Everett, Wisconsin. Do you know where that is?" Stephen nodded. "Yeah, I know where it is."
Group B – Part Two
The semi truck trudged through the streets which the driver, Norma, figured was the fastest way to get her and the people in the back of the truck to Fort Pastor. Every now and then they'd reach a thicket of those crazies, but her 'wingman', Tucker, would take out the ones that she didn't splatter with the truck. They had it made.
The back of the truck was quiet, for the most part. The ride was bumpy, the back of the truck was dirty, and everybody was very tired. "We'll get there soon, everybody, just hang on." said a tall, balding man. He seemed to declare this not to comfort the group, but to make sure that his daughter, Nicole, wasn't afraid. She sat very close to him; her back pressed against his shoulder. She peered at the other passengers in the truck like a shrew, questioning whether or not her peers were going to hurt her.
There was the man who had called the truck on the chapel, Glen. He was sitting next to the robust woman who had apparently been attacked by those creatures. She had bites all over her arms, and one of her eyes couldn't quite open. There was another man, probably in his mid-thirties, sitting on a box in the corner of the truck. He wore business attire, and had already assured everybody (including Monica, who seemed to float around him like a drunken floozy) that he was a voluntary sex addict.
Norma slowed the truck in front of the mesh-and-wood fences that was the perimeter of Fort Pastor. Nicole felt a few of the undead outside banging on the truck, but it ceased following a few shots from Tucker's shotgun in the cab. "Alright folks," Norma said over the engine of the truck. "We're here." Everybody cheered. They felt the truck take a sharp turn as Norma pulled into the lot of the structure. The place seemed empty. Norma peered out of the cab of the truck. There were several tents, cabins, and structures put up, but she didn't see many people. She honked the horn. A shrill sound filled the air as Tucker stepped out of the cab. He took off his hat, brushing back what little hair he had left.
"Place looks empty." he declared slowly, taking in his surroundings with his eyes. Around the truck, several undead began to appear. They shambled toward the truck ever so slowly, moaning and drooling characteristically. Nicole heard a few more shots from Tucker's shotgun, immediately followed by a click. "I'm out," Tucker said, throwing the gun through the window and hopping back into the cab. The truck began to back up as several of the creatures were getting closer now. Norma reversed the truck out of the gate. How could those things take out an entire command center? Norma sped off down the road, this time not knowing her destination. Where would they go? What could they do? Norma was too preoccupied with these thoughts, that she didn't realize that the truck was being loosely followed by a News Channel helicopter.
Group C – Part Three
Those security guards had locked Ana in a store with a fake bathroom. She looked at the replica of the room with disgust, which was fueled by her discomfort. Sighing, Ana stealthily moved past Michael, Kenneth, Andre, and Luda. She had met them all yesterday, and they had already taken on specific roles for Ana. Luda was the damsel in distress. She seemed about seven, maybe eight, months pregnant. Andre was the type of guy who'd do anything for his future kid, which was nice. Although, Ana reminded herself, he got very angry with Michael the night before.
Ana's reverie was cut short. Out of the corner of her eye she spotted one of the guards. What was his name again? It was either Tom, or Terry. "Terry." Ana said to herself, walking towards the doors. She lightly tapped on the glass, just loud enough so that the young man on the other side could here her. "What?" Terry asked, slightly annoyed.
"The bathroom in here is fake; it doesn't work," Ana hissed. Terry pointed his hand back toward the dual elevators, which he had used to come down to the first floor. "I'll tell CJ," Terry said, now sounding more tired than annoyed. Ana didn't blame Terry for anything that had happened to her since her arrival at the mall. For the most part, Terry seemed to be just a scared kid, submitting himself to being one of CJ's pawns. She did, however, have the right to be angry, and Terry was the only person at the moment to be mad at.
"I'm telling you," Ana said. Terry crouched onto his knees, undoing his set of keys from his belt. He unlocked the doors to Metropolis from the bottom, and opened the door for Ana. She huffed angrily and stormed past him, not even asking where the bathroom was. Kenneth also got up, now awake, to go to the bathroom. Andre followed him.
A few minutes later, Terry stood in the security room, watching Ana as she looked through several racks of women's' clothing. Terry smiled lightly as he watched Ana take off her shirt through the small television. Terry caught himself. What was he doing? Watching a woman undress through a camera seemed more like something Bart would do. Terry turned for the door, and gave one last look at the screen.
"Holy shit!" Terry said. Several undead creatures, maybe one hundred, were shambling toward a truck, which slammed through a streetlight. Terry grabbed his belt and gun, running out the door. He ran all the way up to the stairwell, emerging on the roof. CJ peered out at the truck, surveying the mall parking lot like a king whose kingdom was suffering from internal strife. It was going to be a hard day for the residents of Crossroads Mall.