-note- there may be some mistakes in this. please excuse them.

-10-

There are more dead people than living. And their numbers are increasing. The living are getting rarer.- EUGENE IONESCO

It was a beautiful day at the beach. People were lounging on the sand and swimming in the water. The gulls were circling and dive bombing a group of teenage girls. They screamed and ran about, sending chips flying and with them the seagulls in a ravenous fury.

Waves lapped up against the shore, frothing with every turn. Lauren stood at the very edge of the beach looking out, gazing at the beautiful ocean. She put her first foot onto the hot white sand; a warm breeze blew across her tanned face. The air smelled salty from the water, which was deep blue and shimmering in the sunlight. She walked down the beach with a smile on her face. Suddenly, the scene warped. She was running down the beach screaming.

What had begun to happen seemed surreal. The sky clouded up; waves grew higher than twenty feet. The ocean started to gather itself in, seeming to drain as the water was sucked back and built up. A gigantic wave pulled backward and was higher than any building she'd ever seen. She was screaming, but nothing came out, all sound gone. It was deathly silent, like all the noise had been sucked back with the water. The people still laughed and lounged on the beach, oblivious to the horrible spectacle before them.

"Run! Go, please! Can't you see?" Lauren screeched in vain, and flailed her arms around like a lunatic.

Still no one saw her, and the wave blocked out the sun. What came next was absolute darkness. The wave must have hit shore, but she felt no pain. She did not feel the crushing force of water come down on her and collapse her body. It was just darkness. She felt water around herself, and she did not know how she was oriented. Although she'd used all her breath screaming and had not inhaled air before she went under, it felt like her lungs were filled.

She did not need to breathe; she was suspended in the solid darkness, silence. Cold. Then, as quickly as it happened, the water pulled back. She was lying in the sand. Standing up on shaky legs, she gaped in horror at the twisted, mangled bodies scattered on the beach, including the bodies of Alan, Rich, Stacey, and herself. Seagulls dove now, not for chips, but for scraps of decaying meat from the bloated bodies.

Standing amongst the graveyard was Carol, grey and blue with wispy white locks falling in strands off of her decaying head. She smiled and pulled yellowed dentures out of rotting gums.

Then, she opened her mouth wide and—

Screamed.

Screaming.

Someone was screaming.

Lauren shot up from the cold, damp ground, eyes wide but blurry and unfocused. She wiped at them with the back of her hand. Alan was next to Stacey, who was screaming her head off, much like a police siren.

Alan was struggling with someone… an old, wrinkled, pallid woman in her late fifties.

Carol.

Except her skin wasn't so much pallid as blue, wrinkled skin ice cold and sagging off of her cheeks. Her body had been freezing long after she'd died. That's when Lauren remembered; she was supposed to kill Carol before she turned. She'd failed her, and not only that, the old woman had died outside, on the cold, hard ground, during a zombie apocalypse. It was no way for anyone, but especially an old, nice woman, to go.

And now, well, her corpse was trying it's best to take off a chunk of Stacey's face. Alan was trying his best to fight back the zombie. And Rich? Rich was nowhere to be seen. Gone. Lauren stumbled to Carol's corpse and gripped its bony shoulders.

The zombie turned its head around and stared straight at her. Eyes only whites. Mouth gaping, lips purple. Cold. Dead. Alan clenched his fist and landed a hard punch right on the zombie's skull with a loud crack, but the zombie didn't falter. It released its grip on Stacey and advanced to Lauren, who'd let go of its shoulders and was backing away to her gun. The zombie was slow at first, but then it began to pick up its pace with a look of immense hunger across its lifeless face. Lauren backed up until she felt her foot hit the gun. Not taking her eyes off of the charging, horrifying mixture of her friend now turned monster, she bent down and felt for her weapon.

Grabbed it, lifted, and pulled the trigger.

Click. Click click.

Empty.

The zombie was now a few feet in front of her. She threw her useless gun at the zombie and missed, backing away. This is it, you're going to die by your friend, Lauren thought. Your friend, who begged you to kill her before she became this. Lauren closed her eyes and waited for the cold corpse to fall on her, listened as Stacey screamed, but also heard something else. Twigs snapping. She opened her eyes in time to see Richard crashing through the woods, firing round after round from the shotgun as he jumped over roots and tried to keep from tripping. Carol's body was slammed with three solid hits, dark red blood oozed out of the wounds on her chest and legs. The zombie lost balance and toppled over, inches from her face. She heard the bones break, the frail elderly frame shattering, the sound of skull cracking. And then it was over. Lauren stood there, chest heaving, eyes wide.

Stacey was crying and shaking. Alan was looking at the ground, staring. Richard just stood there for a moment, and then said, "Come on. We can't stay here after all of that noise."

And without saying a word, they got up, made their way toward the road, and didn't go back into the forest.

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The sky was covered with dark clouds, the sun was hidden and the air was cold. They all walked in silence, keeping alert and ready, but all somber and tired. Richard was the only one who tried at conversation, only to be met with a grunt or a nod.

The main road had started to turn east, and now they were walking along a dirt road, keeping directly south. Richard and Stacey shot nervous glances at each other.

Alan noticed their glances.

"What? Is there something maybe we should know?"

Richard cleared his throat. "Remember when we said we came from a town filled with zombies and an undead dog? Well, right now we're heading straight for it."

As if on cue, they saw a sign on the side of the road that read "Welcome to Milltown."

"Aw, man! Come on. It's not bad enough that we had to sleep outside in the woods, possibly with zombies lurking there, but now we're heading to a freaking city crawling with the bastards!"

Alan screamed, pulling his hair and basically throwing a tantrum any two-year old would be proud of. Rich ignored his outburst and continued.

"I suppose you folks are headed past the city, but where?"

Lauren sighed. "There were supposed to be shelters stocked with food and water somewhere over there. We were going for that."

Richard shook his head. "Nope, sorry to say this, but there ain't nothing over there but farmland and dead cattle. And, from what we've seen," he motioned to Stacey, who nodded solemnly," a town that was once filled with nothing but hicks."

They all stopped walking, standing in the middle of the dirt road, bordered by long grass now instead of forest. Now they had no plan, they had slept outside in hopes of reaching safety and were now without a course of action.

"What about the other direction?" Richard interjected.

Alan and Lauren shook their heads and stared at him with a defeated look. "No, man. There was a city back there, but it was too overrun with zombies, and anyway, it was burned down last night." Stacey creased her brow in a look of confusion.

"What? How did the whole city burn down?"

"A lot of jackasses decided to douse the whole thing and kill anyone they could find in the process."

They all went silent again. Then, a screech erupted at the other end of the road.

Up ahead, a few yards down, they saw movement.

A figure.

"Everyone, hide in the tall grass. Those of you with guns, get them ready," Rich said.

They ducked into the tall grass, held themselves close to the ground, except for Rich, who was kneeling and keeping an eye off in the distance. They could hear noises, faint but definitely voices. Wait, not voices. Just sounds, animalistic screeches. As Lauren held herself to the ground, Richard's eyes grew wide.

"They're zombies, all right. And a lot of them. Not as many as I've seen before, but too many for us to take down. Maybe if we keep quiet they will pass us by."

Alan's voice cracked as he said, "What are they doing, man? Are they coming over here?"

Richard was quiet for a moment and then, "They 're slowly heading this way." Lauren heard Alan intake a breath sharply, but she was surprised to hear him sobbing.

"We're gonna fucking die, man. That's just it. We're dead meat."

His cries were becoming louder as he talked. Richard looked sharply at Alan.

"Maybe, if you manned up and kept your noise down, then maybe they won't find us. Listen to me, boy. What would your father think of you?" That's when Alan lost it. He sat up, tears streaming down his face, nostrils flared.

"You have no right! You don't know my father, and guess what? Neither do I! So don't go on, telling me this "what would daddy think" shit. I had no father, and I might as well have had no mother. Fuck you, man. Fuck you!" He was screaming now, his face turning red.

Richard glanced down the road, panic in his eyes now. "Would you keep your voice down? They could've heard you, and then what? Then we'd all be fucked. I think you should stop this little pity-party you're holding for yourself, and start thinking straight. You know what, kid? I had no father, either. I had four little brothers I had to raise on my own, 'cause my momma was out working to support us. And you know what? I didn't have pity for myself; I owned up to the responsibility and made the best of it. So right now, be responsible and shut your mouth."

Alan's tear-streaked face was drawn, and he sat silent. Then, out of nowhere, he yelped.

And again, and again.

"What the hell. Son, I just told you to shut up." Rich was sweating now, looking toward the zombies.

Alan was grimacing. "I'm sorry! It's one of my tics! I can't help it."

Then he screamed again. Lauren rushed to his side and clamped her hand over his mouth. Another muffled yell erupted from him. "What? How can you not help it?" Richard asked, staring at him. Stacey started trembling.

"He has Tourettes, Rich. It's a neuropsychiatric disorder, characterized by motor and phonic tics. He can't help it. I'm guessing it's because of the extreme fear and anger he's feeling. Can you try to suppress them until the zombies leave?"

New tears were sliding down his cheeks and wetting Lauren's hand. Alan shook his head. Through the tics, he said in a muffled voice, "I've been holding it in for a day now, I have to." Stacey sat up from her spot on the ground now, too. She peered down the road. The zombies stopped moving and were standing, silently. Waiting. Listening. "You've chosen a great time to let loose," she said, trying to sound sarcastic but coming off frightened and nervous. Alan kept yelping, but Lauren held her hand firmly in place. Stacey turned to Lauren and stared deeply at her.

Then, she grabbed her gun and pointed it at Alan's head.

"What the hell are you doing with that?" Lauren asked, astonished.

"He's a liability. Dead weight. He'll bring us down in the long run. Maybe we can stop his tics now, but the more he holds them in, the worse off we'll be. We can't have him near us, he's a dinner bell. We're lucky the zombies haven't noticed yet."

Rich, although his face looked otherwise, said calmly and slowly, "Stacey, you don't know what you're doing. I think the motorcycle crash hit you a little too hard, you're not thinking clearly. Put down the gun, and we can discuss this."

Alan's eyes were wide and he continued to tic. Lauren was appalled. Stacey kept her gun raised, locked on to Alan. "No, I'm thinking clearer than ever. This is about survival, Rich, and I will do whatever it takes to stay alive. It's either I kill him now, or we all die. The shot will alert the zombies to our position, but I'm sure we can outrun them. Now, Lauren, if you will just move out of—"

Lauren's eyes narrowed as she stared at Stacey."No, I won't let you kill him. You'll have to kill me first." She leaned in front of Alan, eyes set.

Stacey lowered her gun. "I'm not going to kill one of my own, Lauren. You all, you don't know half of what I know. It's so frightening it'll make you piss your pants. But I'm determined not to die, whatever the cost is."

Lauren stared at Stacey. "One of your own? What the hell are you talking about? You're crazy, Stacey. Maybe that crash did do something to your head. Alan is a human being, he is one of us!"

A breeze rustled the tall grass they were hiding behind. The zombies were lumbering about again, coming slowly closer. Stacey raised the gun again, now pointing at Lauren's head, and her finger moved slightly. Rich saw the movement and grabbed Stacey, but not before the gun went off. Rich and Stacey fought over the gun as someone cried out in pain.

"Give me the gun, Stacey!" Stacey rolled to her side and punched Rich in the face.

"No! I liked you, Rich, but you're oblivious! All of you!"

Rich grabbed her arm with his free hand and held the gun in the other. He twisted her wrist and pinned her arm to the ground. She gasped and punched at his stomach. He didn't seem to notice, and now she was fully pinned on the ground. But then, she kicked him in the groin. He yelped and held his wounded member. She screamed out and started laughing crazily, pried the gun from Rich's hand and stood up.

What she saw must've been bad, for the color drained from her face.

Then, she raised the gun, put in her mouth and pulled the trigger.

Blood erupted from the wound in the back of her head. Her face was obliterated and a bloody mess of tissue and bone.

Her body stayed standing for a brief moment before collapsing onto the ground. Alan had stopped ticking, but now he was clutching a growing dark red spot on his shoulder. Lauren was crying as the blood poured out of the wound. Rich had knocked Stacey out of the way in time to miss killing Lauren, but the bullet had hit its intended target. The zombies were dashing to the source of the commotion.

"Oh, man. That hurts." Alan gritted his teeth and held the damp spot.

His shirt was soaked with his own blood.

"Come on, I know it hurts, but we gotta move," Rich gasped as he and Lauren took hold of Alan. They dragged him away from the spot and away from the oncoming zombies.

"We're never going to make it. We're going too slowly, they'll catch up!" Lauren said as they pulled him onto the road.

Rich glanced back and saw a large group of zombies, maybe fifty or more, surging towards them.

Fast, he thought. Faster than before. How could that be?

Alan groaned as they picked up the pace, jostling him as they ran. Lauren grunted under the weight. The zombies gained. They were closing in on the trio as they, almost comically, dragged Alan down the dirt road. Then, right in front of them, about seven trucks and two humvees were rolling down the dirt road.

"We're saved!" gasped Rich, exhausted. Alan rolled his head up to look at the trucks.

"No, we're not. We're basically fucked either way."

Then he passed out.

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The city and its inhabitants, alive and undead, were now reduced to a smoldering pile of ruin.

All in all, the losses of about seventy-five men were mere annoyances in the vast scheme of things.

Not much of a loss, rather a minor setback. Rick was pleased, but that wouldn't last too long. He knew that. As they wrapped up and loaded ammo, medicine, and food into the trucks, his mind was working on another problem; how to deal with all the other unruly sheep in his huge flock. He'd gotten rid of Jason, his biggest concern, but there were others. He could not be questioned; would not. There was no room for error, and he would silence all who dared to step in front of his future.

Because once the first sheep stepped out of line, the rest would follow. And where would that leave him? Alone, starving, and fighting for his life against an army of undead? No, he would not do that ever again.

He'd started off weak, but look at him now. He was building an empire, using only his head and a couple of unquestioning survivors to do the dirty work. All was well. He just had to keep them scared and moving. When the loading was finished, his troops grouped in the hummers and trucks and only when Rick himself got seated did the line move out. Behind them, the city continued to burn down, although much of it was already gone.

Rick picked up the radio handle and pressed a button, then spoke into it. "Attention, soldiers. You did very well tonight, and I'm sure you are all very hungry and tired. When we get back, we will have a celebration dinner!"

He heard the cheers coming from the men in the trucks. "On a side note, please remember to sterilize all articles of clothing and to go to the clinic to treat wounds immediately. Fail to do so and the consequences will be dire. That is all." Rick set the radio down and leaned back. He smiled to himself about the fact that Jason had fallen right into his plan, unwittingly. Not only did he get rid of his biggest problem, but he and the other group would have greatly diminished the number of zombies in Milltown, the checkpoint. But his smile faltered when he thought of how bad of an infestation the small town had.

Compared to the city, it was hugely overrun. The problem there was not simply the fact that it was so dangerous, but because the zombies hadn't been there four days ago. They had moved, and probably would move again.

This was bad news.

Rick settled in his seat and closed his eyes. He fell asleep with the image of the burning city in his mind.

Someone was shaking him.

"What is it?" He said groggily.

The driver was concerned. "Sir, the trucks ahead have run into something. Body bags up ahead, and a lot of them, too."

It took Rick a minute to recognize the term "body bags" as the undead. He sat up straight and asked, "So, how are they handling it?"

The driver looked confused for a second, but then the radio chirped. "Permission to fire,over."

Rick grabbed the radio and said, "Permission approved. Kill all of them."

Silence, and then, "Sir, there are three civilians out here… one of them, male, is all bloodied up. With him are a black male and a white female, over." Rick thought for a second.

"Put them in one of the hummers. Then, open fire."

"Yes, sir. Over and out."

The gunshots rang out as the men opened fire. And, although his vision was obscured, he could see bodies dropping one by one. After a few minutes, all was quiet. The trucks rolled on, and they drove unmolested for another half hour before passing through Milltown.

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Alan, Rich, and Lauren were shoved hastily into one of the hummers. Alan landed on his wounded shoulder and cried out.

"Aw, shut your yap, pansy."

Lauren looked around at the driver, an older guy with his shirt off and who was smoking a cigar.

"You won't know pain like I've known it. That's just a scratch, boy." He looked in his rear-view mirror at Alan and chuckled.

The hummer was basically gutted except for the driver and passenger seat, in which a stern-looking man sat, eyes cold and calculative. In the back sat six guys , all carrying guns. They leered at Lauren and some looked disapprovingly at Alan. There were two black soldiers who just stared at Rich.

"So, what have you girls been up to?" The muscular black man said. Alan suppressed his cries of pain as Rich and Lauren helped him up.

"Are you going to kill us?" she asked.

The guys glanced at each other. Then all of them burst out laughing. "No, we're probably not going to kill you, or this brotha here. But this weak little puppy dog, maybe. "

They laughed again as Alan's eyes grew wide and he stopped whimpering. "We're gonna take you back to base camp. If you got any special talents, I'd say so now. If you're useless, well, we have special jobs for you."

And the laughter ended when the serious man in the passenger seat smiled.

"I'll be the one to assign you that special job," he said through a smile of razors.

Something in his voice gave Lauren the chills. Rich glanced at the man with the shark's smile and said, " I was in the military once. I could probably help you guys out in the field."

That made the others laugh again.

"Aren't you a little old, nigga?" The black guy asked. Rich frowned and said in an annoyed voice, "I don't think so, I'm still pretty flexible. And ain't a "nigga" either. Only ignorant people use that word."

The guys looked at each other, a bit confused. One smaller guy in the back said, "You gonna let him talk to like that, Dallas? We just saved this guy's life, and this is how he talks to us?"

Dallas studied Rich for a minute with hard eyes, but Rich didn't seem afraid. He just looked old and tired. "You're lucky we saved you, pops." That was all he said for the rest of the ride. As the trucks rolled into Milltown, Lauren saw just why Rich had been hesitant to go back. Bodies were literally everywhere.

Walking bodies.