The truck skidded to a stop, throwing the occupant's bodies forward. Steve cursed under his breath as he stood up from the bed of the truck, glaring at Darry for the inconvenience. He cursed again at the long line of unmoving cars on the highway. "Everybody had the same idea," he said, but his voice was drowned out by honking.

"What the fuck is going on!" a man screamed out of his window as he repeatedly honked the horn.

"Move, come on!" another exclaimed.

Darry looked blankly out of the truck. On a normal case, he would be irritated just as much as the next guy, but he felt numb. Multiple contrasting thoughts flew through his head. He faced denial, but he knew that his parents were gone, leaving him to take care of his younger brothers.

In the backseat, Ponyboy and Soda looked out the window of the truck with a similar expression. They, on the other hand, could not comprehend what had happened.

"Ponyboy, do you want to talk about this?" Johnny asked quietly.

Ponyboy shook his head. "What's there to talk about? How could we possibly talk about—" Ponyboy choked, eyes watering. He looked away from his friend.

"Dead?" Johnny said slowly, letting the word sink in. "I'm sorry…Those…Whatever you call them…"

"Let's not talk about this right now," Darry interjected, gritting his teeth. He exited the truck for a better view of what was going on.

"Start moving, damn it!" an old man that was parked behind the truck screamed, rushing over to Darry. His rosy cheeks stood out on the bright light and his one-size too small for his plump body was drenched in his own sweat.

"We can't! The cars are backed up for miles!" Darry answered.

"Then slowly move the fucking cars and whatever is in the way! It's simple! I need to get to work!"

"Don't you know what's going on right now?"

"Yeah. Chill, man," Steve interjected, watching the whole feud.

The man's face was redder than a tomato. "Excuse me? I will not have you disrespect me! Do you know how hard I work? You kids have no idea what adults have to go through!" The man was practically vibrating in rage, letting out ragged breaths. He leaned against the truck and closed his eyes for a long moment. Darry and Steve looked at each other with the same thought: what was wrong with this guy?

The man shook his head and slowly walked back to his car, clenching his chest, without another word. But before he could open his car, his face scrunched up in pain and he fell to the ground.

"Holy shit," Steve cursed, unsure on what he should do. Neither did anyone else. Calling for an ambulance was futile with no telephones and no way for the abundance to pass the cars. No one around them knew what was going on, they were too transfixed on trying to move their car forward. The older man stopped moving when his blood ceased to circulate in his body.

"Is he dead?" Two-Bit asked, poking his head up from the bed of the truck, eyes wide.

"I… I don't know…" Darry confessed. "Somebody help!" His shouts were drowned out by the cars. Giving up, he bent down to check for a pulse, but when he found none, he reeled back.

"Well?" Steve asked.

"He's dead."

"What do we do with the body?" Two-Bit asked. "You're the oldest here, Darry. Think of something."

While the three were bickering of what to do next, the dead man woke up. He emitted a sound that sounded like a growl mixed with a gargle. The man's skin was a few shades paler than it was a few minutes ago. He looked at Darry with blank eyes, slowly lifting his head. He reached his hands out, grabbing Darry's shirt with an iron grip.

Darry spun around, yelling out in shock as the undead man's face was a foot away. He tried to pull back, but he only dragged the man with him. Steve immediately jumped off of the truck to help, kicking the dead man away with all of his might. This commotion attracted a few people from the surrounding cars who walked over to take a look. Johnny, Ponyboy, and Soda exited the truck as well, slamming the door behind them.

"Are you okay?" Soda asked.

Before Darry could respond, the dead man grabbed his leg and tried to sink his teeth in. Again, Steve kicked him away.

"Here!" one of the bystanders shouted, passing a hammer to Darry. He gave her a look that asked why they had a hammer in the first place. "Kill it!"

The dead man lunged again and Darry spun around, nailing it in the head. He pinned the dead man down with his foot. Fueled by the pressure of the commands and the fear for his life, Darry started to beat the hammer over and over into the man's skull. The hammer smashed its skull, caving it in. Even with the injury, the man kept moving. Darry slammed the hammer down once more, successfully re-killing the man. Blood was all over Darry's arm as he removed the sticky hammer from its skull. A few chunks of brain dropped off onto the asphalt.

"You killed him…" Ponyboy muttered. Darry looked at his hands in shame. He had just murdered someone. Even if it was self-defense, the thought of taking someone's life was overbearing.

"He was already dead," the woman that handed Darry the hammer said. Her hair was a bird's nest, bags under her fear-filled eyes made everyone sceptic of what she had just said. However they kept an open ear because she had more answers than them.

"What do you mean?" Soda asked.

"The infection kills the host and brings them back different." Her tone changed and her expression turned dark. "My brother was sick. He died right in front of me, and turned into one of them."

"How long ago was this?"

"This shit-storm started weeks ago. My town wasn't warned. People are calling them chompers—at least from what I heard."

Another girl ran to them with a panicked expression. "Hey, we got trouble coming." She kept peeking over the cars.

"More chompers? Did they get attracted to the sound?"

"Probably. We have to hightail out of here."

The other female nodded, snatching her hammer from Darry before disappearing in the train of cars without a second word.

Two-Bit stood up to look over the cars. A group of chompers were entering the freeway not too far from them. If they were anything like the other chompers he saw, the safest option was to leave. "We need to go too," he declared.

Everyone was reluctant to leave the truck, but they didn't want to have to face the chompers again. The thought about killing someone alive or dead, made all of them sick to their stomach, and Darry didn't want to have to face that again.

o-o-o

Dally sat up from the bench in the prison cell to the sound of police officers shooting their guns.

"Hey, what's going on out there?" his cellmate screamed.

One officer ran up to them. "Just stay quiet," he ordered and ran off.

"Come back! What's happening?"

From where Dally sat, he could see through the translucent window on the door. The officer's shadowed figure stood on guard on the other side of the door. In a fluent motion, the officer shot his handgun, but another figure appeared in the window, knocking he police officer to the ground. He screamed out in shock as he shot the man that toppled him. The officer stood up, but another figure appeared at the window, sinking their teeth in his shoulder. The policeman's blood sprayed on the window as his knees buckled. Bloody hands dragged down the window before collapsing.

Dally's blood went cold as his jaw clenched up. He had seen a lot of horror for a fifteen year old, but nothing as bloody as this.

"Are you alright?" his cellmate screamed, making Dally spin around in annoyance.

"Shut your mouth," he hissed, not wanting to attract attention. He was a sitting duck in the cell—an easy target. Whoever was out there probably didn't know they were in there until his cellmate opened his trap.

Other shadows appeared from the other side of the door. Some of them bent down while the others pushed the door open. The cellmate's eyes grew wide as he held the bars of the cell for a better look. The ghoulish faces of the newcomers brought chills down their spines. Their gashed out bodies stumbled quickly towards them, arms reached out, grasping air.

"What kind of trick is this?" the cellmate screamed. Everything would have to have been a prank set by the police officers. Except Dally was smart enough to figure out that it wasn't. Why would the police officers pull a prank like this (not even being close to Halloween) and waste bullets? Something was going on, and he couldn't do anything about it. The battered humans reached the cell and slipped their arms through the gaps. The cellmate, still thinking that it was still a prank, laughed, and walked forward and played around. A huge smile broke out on his chapped lips. He poked the cheeks of one of the "costumed" people. "Golly, this is so realistic!"

The costumed person spun his head around and bit the cellmate's finger. His eyes widened and attempted to pull free, but the teeth crunched through his finger. The cellmate drew back and fell on the cold floor, holding out his finger that was spewing blood. He was screaming as he showed off the stump in a panic.

Dally stood up, looking from the cellmate to the cannibalistic people that already swallowed the finger. "Shit! Fucking hell!" the cellmate screamed and bit hard onto his lips, drawing blood as he shut his eyes to keep back the tears.

The cannibals dropped to the ground and grabbed the cellmate's ankle, attempting to drag him closer, who thrashed and kicked but couldn't break free. Dally rushed over, stomping on the cannibals hand until they let go. He dragged his cellmate back by the scruff of his shirt and pressed himself as far away from the bars as possible.

The cellmate pressed the stub on his clothes to stop the bleeding. His face was tense as if the shock of a missing body part hasn't hit him.

The cannibals tried to push themselves through the bars, but was unable to. Dally relaxed a bit more, realizing he was safe for now. If they ate a finger, he didn't want to think about what it was like if they got a hold of him.

They stayed in the cell for a couple more hours. The bleeding had long stopped and the cellmate had come to terms with the missing finger. The cannibals were still trying to get in and Dally was beginning to think that he wouldn't be getting out at all. The police officer that was attacked had joined the push to enter the cell. His insides were all cleaned out.

His cellmate wasn't looking too hot. His clammy face was pressed against the wall and he was sweating like a pig. His eyes were closed as he cradled his infected hand with ragged breaths.

Finally, the sound of someone opening the front door of the police station caught the attention of a majority of the cannibals. Some left while others stayed behind. Hope filled Dally, but then he remembered what happened to all of the police that were stationed there.

A few seconds later, gunshots rang through the station, attracting the cannibals that stayed behind. They turned from Dally and his cellmate to walk over. More gunshots caused both of them to flinch. Everything was silent for a while before the people that entered the station started to talk. Dally couldn't pick up what they were saying.

Their footsteps and voices were getting closer before the door opened and two gruffly men entered. Their towering figures, leather jackets, and scruffy beards was a bit intimidating. It didn't help that they had heavy artillery guns.

The two men looked at each other before they nodded after looking at Dally. They walked over. "What are you here for?"

"This time is just a fight. Don't know what he's in for." The cellmate, in response, moaned in pain.

"Alright," one of the men said, grabbing the keys for the cell. He unlocked it and motioned Dally through. Dally got back up to exit the cell. His cellmate stood up as well and attempted to follow, but the door was shut and locked before he could set one foot out.

"What are you doing?" the cellmate asked, eyes wide as he looked just as shocked as he was confused.

"You're not leaving. Not in your condition."

"What does that have to do with anything? I'm going to die if I stay in here."

"You'll only bring misfortune to the rest of us and get us killed. You're an easy target to the locomoters. It's better to die here than out there."

"Is that what they are called? What the hell is going on?" Dally interrupted, crossing his arms.

"The world has gone to hell. I don't know what happened. Everyone practically left the city if they weren't killed or infected."

"What are you guys doing here then?"

"Artillery. Everyone's going to want them so we're taking them before someone else does."

The men turned to leave to the gunroom and Dally stalked closed behind, taking quick glances at his cellmate who was begging to be released.

The three stepped over a number of bodies. "They were already dead," one of the men muttered as a short explanation. "We just re-killed them."

In the gunroom, the two men stuffed guns and ammo in duffel bags, swinging them over their shoulders with a grunt. Dally grabbed a bag himself and stuffed it with the leftovers, sticking a handgun in his belt.

The three exited the building. The sun was beating hot and locomoters were walking around, not yet aware of them.

"I'm going to bet you have somewhere to be. Good luck. When you do come across a locomoter, kill it before it kills you."

o-o-o

Sorry for the late update. I thought we just needed a break from the tragic deaths from The Walking Dead season seven premier. .

Replies:

Guest: Thanks. I'm hoping that this chapter wasn't too messy as well. Everything is still being sorted out.

Justslaygold: Yayayayayay! I feel your excitement. Thank you so much for reviewing.

OCL: Thank you. Stay gold!