Christ.

George rolled over, his side aching. He was unaware of what had woke him, until he heard a sound from the next room, or perhaps from outside the apartment. He silently rolled out of bed, and grabbed the pump-action shotgun next to the bed, nudging Phillipa awake with his other hand as he did so. She came instantly awake with a gasp, and sat up, her eyes wide at the sight of the shotgun in his hand. He motioned for her to be quiet and nodded his head at the next room.

Phillipa opted for his pistol over her own lever action .303 rifle in the enclosed space of the apartment, and together, they moved out of the bedroom, Phillipa almost tripping over a stuff sack discarded against the wall, across the kitchen, through the hole they had knocked in the wall of the apartment, and into the next apartment where they had fortified the entrance to the central courtyard.

Hearing something behind him, George whirled around to find Jesper stepping cautiously through the makeshift doorway with his Benelli M1 at his shoulder.

"What's going on?" Jesper whispered to him. "I heard something. You guys getting a snack?" He eyed the weapons.

A soft click-click of fingers came from across the apartment. Anne had emerged from one of the bedrooms facing the street, holding one of the rifles, and signalling for them to duck down.

"A car drove past," she hissed, "I'm not sure whether they're government or other survivors, like us, I couldn't really see but I think it was a big 4WD, a Landcruiser or something like that. I think they parked up the street... I thought I heard the engine stop, and I could see their parking lights up the street till a couple minutes ago."

--

George raised his head cautiously, Mossberg held in both hands, to spy the Landcruiser only a few dozen yards away. He was lying in a front garden across the street, among the remains of some rose bushes, ignoring the thorns clutching at his clothes and skin. A man was leaning on the Landcruiser, smoking a cigarette and holding a large rifle of some sort. He shifted slightly, obviously scanning up and down the street, and George caught his breath as he got a better glimpse of the man's weapon. An AK-47, or somesuch variant of it. Even most of those who had never held a gun before knew the famous Russian assault rifle, thanks to any number of Hollywood movies.

Another man, holding what looked to be another automatic weapon, came out of the house directly across the street from George's location, carrying a large pack over one shoulder. The man at the car turned to whisper something to his mate, and the sound of distant gunfire popped softly through the still night air. Both men froze, and swivelling, scanned the street, before turning in the direction of the sound - north. A third man came hustling out of the house to the continuing chorus of machine gun fire, also bearing assault rifle and large pack, and also turned north to face the far-off noise.

Phillipa touched George's shoulder. "We should go. George, if there's gunfire in the city then I think we need to get out of here."

George looked up at the three men, two of them, having dumped their packs in the house now bustling back inside, the third grinding his cigarette under his boot and watching the street with renewed vigour and a very nervous attitude, and was struck by the insight that these men are just like us. They were survivors, probably picking up supplies they had long ago stashed in this house. The sound of breaking glass or china accompanied the two men as they hurried out of the house, this time with a pack over each shoulder and a large duffel bag each - they were literally staggering under the weight of supplies that each man was carrying.

He stood up, slowly, not wanting to aggrieve the three men now hurriedly loading bags into the Landcruiser, and softly called across the street to them. The reaction was instantaneous. All three dropped the bags they were holding and snatched up their weapons from where they had been hanging on slings at their sides. One immediately took a knee at the rear of the vehicle, sweeping his gun over the other side of the street, eyes roving, while the other two of them came jogging across the street to where George was standing, one a few paces behind and to the left of the lead man, both with weapons up and shouting.

"Orright now, drop it! Fuckin' drop it!"

George could only take a few stumbling steps backwards before the lead man was on him, holding his rifle low with his right hand and grabbing George's shoulder with the other hand. Planting a firm knee into George's groin the man spun him roughly around, pushed him down to the street and knelt on the bicep of his outstretched gun arm, which was still holding the shotgun. Through the agony of his bruised gnads, George saw the other man come up on the left side of his assailant, gun up, and looking up, saw Phillipa drop her weapon and receive the same treatment - albeit somewhat more gently.

The man kneeling on George called out "Secured!" and received the same confirmation in response from his colleague who had disabled Phillipa, before looking down at George and asking, simply; "Now then, who are you lot, eh?"

"We're just survivors, like you," George replied through gritted teeth, "We don't mean you any harm, but if you don't let me up to signal my friends, then they'll probably panic and shoot you."

The man seemed somewhat taken aback at this answer, and George heard the other man by the car say to let him up. The pressure was taken off his back and arm, and George got up cautiously, noting that the man had taken his shotgun. Phillipa was in a similar predicament, unharmed but weaponless and obviously terrified at how easily they had been rendered helpless. The men stood back in the road, uneasy but not aggressive, and George waved his right arm in the air - giving Anne the signal not to shoot - before turning back to the men.

"So where are you guys from?"

"We're just stragglers - we've noticed more and more infected coming in to town up north, so we're heading south. What about you?"

The northern sky lit up faintly orange and a series of rumbling explosions echoed in the distance.

Maybe getting out of here is a good idea...