Chapter 1 – Losing a Girl's Trust

EXT. SUMMER CAMP – DAY

I watched as the others fell, confident, and were caught. I outstretched my arms. My feet braced for impact, but as she fell, I felt a wave of nausea pass over me. I watched as my arms lost solidity, and she kept on falling, straight through me, as if I didn't exist.

And the serene face of confidence never left her until the second her head hit the ground.

Her eyes snapped open. Blood pooled at my feet. As my shoes grew steadily more red, strong arms brought forth a stretcher. Then the stretcher left, but with her bleeding head resting on the cushion.

Her gaze never left mine. And every moment I gazed back, the hatred pushed my eyes away.

I turned to see a punch aimed at my face. Closing my eyes, I prayed for the immaterial that had injured the girl. It never came.

I jolted awake. Breathing a sigh of relief, I realized I wasn't at a summer camp, losing a girl's trust. I was in the middle of the apocalypse.

INT. FORT FREEDOM – NIGHT

I realized what had woke me up. It wasn't my alarm, as I was expecting, but rather I had left my walkie-talkie on, and someone was prank-calling me. I picked it up. "What!?"

"Marsh, Sarge wants to see you."

"Why?"

"We got a call."

My eyes widened. This wasn't a prank. Getting a call is too important. I grabbed my hat, turned off the walkie-talkie, and bolted out the door.

My mistake was that, in my haste, I never bothered to take a look around. Had I had done so, I might have noticed a peculiar swarming of bugs on a tree branch over the side of the high chain-link fence.

My feet hit the ground, left, right, left, right, left, and the I felt a slimy grip on my leg. Within seconds, I was being pulled along the ground, and then slowly up the side of the fence. I tried desperately to unwrap myself before I was exposed to the deadly barbed wire at the top. The tongue slipped under my hands.

The Smoker exploded into a cloud of dust. I fell headfirst into the mud. I groaned as I realized who had killed it.

"Marsh, ol' boy, you owe me fifty bucks. That's the third one."

I peeled my face out of the dirt. "That doesn't count."

Jeff knelt over, grabbed my hand, and pulled me to my feet. "We agreed, three saves, fifty bucks. Fork it over."

"Yeah, well, they're not supposed to be able to get us here."

"Doesn't matter."

"I didn't exactly drag my money into the mud with me. You're gonna have to wait."

"How about I wait at Sarge's tent?"

"Why?"

"Cause that's where we need to be."

I cleared my head. "Oh yeah."

After a moment's glance, we sprinted towards the tent.

Too late, Simon and Greg had already beaten us. I trained my eye to Sarge, awaiting an explanation as to why us four had been called here at three in the morning.

There was an awkward silence. I looked quizzically around the room for a few moments before I realized everyone was staring at me.

"What happened to you?" asked Simon.

I duly noted the mud that I had been dragged through still pined for the pleasure of my company. "Oh...a smoker got me."

Simon nodded. "Ah."

"Wait," replied Greg, "What? I thought—"

"It climbed a tree."

"Oh. Didn't think they could do that."

Sarge cleared his throat. Greg became alert again. "Sorry, Sarge."

"Yeah," Sarge said. "Anyway, we just got a call."

"From where?" asked Jeff.

"The cornfield. There's four of them. They have weapons and supplies, but not enough to last more than a few more days. They say they're part of a police force."

"Well, that's good," I commented. "At least they're not just a ragtag group. We could use them in this base."

"Are we sure we aren't just harvesting blood? What if we get there and they're all deader than the zombies feasting on their corpses?"

"Zombies aren't dead, technically, and they don't feast on the people they've killed, Jeff."

"Shut up, Marsh. You know what I mean."

"It's worth a shot to go, though. What can we gain from standing around?"

"I know, just this could turn out to be a suicide mission."

"Everything's a suicide mission. Life's a suicide mission."

"Not for a zombie."

"Unless it happens to come within a mile of us."

Sarge became impatient. "Shut up, you two. You're like an old married couple. Simon, start gathering ammo and supplies and dump it in our transport. You too, Greg, don't just stand there."

We all hurried off to prepare for the journey. Sarge held me back as I was exiting the tent, however.

"Marsh?"

"Yessir?"

"You got hit by a smoker on the way to this meeting?"

"It climbed a tree, sir."

"Right, I'll tell the troops to watch for that."

"Good idea, sir."

"Oh, and one more thing, Marsh."

"Yes?"

"I always loved you."

"Excuse me?"

The Sarge laughed. "Kidding. You just seem so uptight."

"It's three in the morning."

"I see that. Oh yeah, and Dr. Sleighter requests he join this mission."

"What!?"

"He says he needs to see the zombies up close in order to study them properly."

"But—"

"I agreed. He's coming."

"What about you, sir?"

"Someone needs to run this base. Good luck, Marsh."

"Good luck keeping the mud off the ground without me." I flicked some dirt off and left.