Thick, dark clouds covered the skies, not allowing any possibility of sun to shine through. Heavy rain fell from those clouds, wetting the streets. Eight people scrambled onto these streets, away from the side of the building where they hid. The rain at first appeared to be a limitation from their mission, but they were grateful, for it washed away the dirt and sweat from their faces and bodies. And if need be, it would wash away the grime from the infected.

It was a close call. They narrowly missed the vomit from the boomer that had spotted them. They moved away from the building just in time, the vomit covering the ground rather than their clothes. Coach, bringing up the rear, turned swiftly and shot the boomer dead, the sound of it erupting through the skies, almost replacing the thunder that followed it.

"Where do we go?" Zoey asked, limping in the back next to Coach. She was grateful for the arm of Ellis wrapped around her waist, holding her up. With every passing moment, she grew more thankful that he was there.

"I don't know," Nick said from in front of her. "The radio was breaking up when they responded."

"But it sounded like they said they would pick us up from the hospital," Bill picked up. "Louis, you still got that radio?"

"Yeah," Louis said, running at a good pace ahead as well. The radio did not seem to slow him down in the slightest. Zoey glanced around as their group moved to the middle of the street. While everyone was scanning the outside area for the incoming survivors, Zoey stared at all the infected that were approaching them, which they would have to kill. When their groups had combined, she felt they had a fighting chance. But her eyes widened as they moved, they were literally surrounded, and now she felt as if their group were small and weak against them.

She could see faces, so many faces peering out, some already running towards the smell of the vomit, towards the still running truck in the broken wall, towards them. It was hard to believe that this hospital was quiet over the night, that they were able to get some of rest here. Because that was not the case now; the streets, the sidewalks were covered with infected. And more were hopping down from the walls of the buildings and closing in on the survivors, just as Nick had predicted. With the prospect of hope so close, they didn't want to just run away. They had to fight.

Bill turned to his teammates and Zoey could see the slight worry that lay behind his determined eyes. But his tone displayed no doubts. "Looks like we won't get another chance to contact those people again. There's too many, we have to fight now! If anyone sees any sign of them, get the rest of us!" The cry from the infected echoed through the air followed by the familiar sounds of gunfire, almost drowning out his shouts. "Stay close together!" These were his last words before a crowd of the infected closed in on them all. Flashes of light from their guns lit up the dark skies.

They all huddled in the middle of the street, back to back, trying to follow Bill's orders and stay together. But this proved to be difficult; infected pulled each survivor away from the other, all closing in around each individual.

The hunter's cry sounded once more, its final warning, and in just a blur of moment, the hunter burst through the group, landing on top of Louis. It clawed ferociously at him, hungrily, spraying Louis' blood through the air.

"Louis!" Zoey screamed. She aimed her pistol, hoping to get a clear headshot, but at that moment a sharp pain erupted through her broken leg. She found herself on the ground, with the infected that knocked her over hissing in her face. She had forgotten how fast fights could be. She had to get her senses back into high gear. She moved shooting the infected off of her, but there were more following, no surprise. Her heart hammered as Louis' screams echoed through the air.

Everything seemed to move in a whirlwind. Rochelle rushed over to Louis, battling her way through the crowd of infected. Blood and grime hit her, stained her clothes, her face, as she went. But nothing slowed her down; Louis' screams pushed her forward. At last, she had a clear view, and with one blast from her shotgun, the hunter was off of Louis; its body dropped next to him, now lifeless. Rochelle rushed over to the mangled body that was Louis, almost not hearing the scream from one of her companions.

"Spitter!" Nick shouted, trying to warn the others in time. But there was no time. The spitter was too quick; Francis barely saw the flash of green before he was crippled on the ground, laying in a pool of burning acid. He screamed from the intense pain that fried his skin, inhibited him from moving.

Coach, a few feet away, saw this. He fired his submachine gun at the infected nurse in front of him; her body shuddered violently as the bullets passed through it. Once she dropped dead, Coach rushed over to Francis, almost shocked at how quickly the acid had eaten away at his skin. Francis tried to get up, clutching at the reddened, blistering skin on his arms. Being careful, Coach took the struggling Francis' hand and helped him, trying not to hurt him more than he already was. They had little time to linger, and a sudden crash almost halted his actions, confirmed his worst fears. The ground began rumbling. It couldn't be…

"Tank!" Bill shouted, already rushing to the heavily mutated being, Nick on his heels.

Ellis couldn't believe it; it just didn't seem fair. The fight had started only minutes ago, and already three people were on the ground, wounded. Despite all this, the infected kept coming, not giving them any time to just breathe. He wanted desperately to do something; to help Zoey up who was struggling from the weight of her cast, to help Rochelle do her best to patch up Louis, or to at least help the others with the incoming tank. But he was trapped. He moved his axe, screaming with rage at the tons of infected that appeared one after the other. He couldn't avert his attention from them, no matter how much he wanted to; because that one look might be his last.

Zoey tried to move, tried to get up from the hard, cracked ground. But she couldn't gather enough energy to pull herself up and fight the dozens of infected that kept coming back. Her broken leg throbbed as she tried to scoot back, her pistol firing madly at her attackers. But the cast was too heavy; she couldn't get to a standing position without help. There were too many….and with one last shot, her pistol clicked uselessly.

No….

She clicked it more times, hoping that for some reason, there were still more bullets in there. But she knew there was nothing; she just didn't want to accept it. She could feel them now; they were on top of her. Their scratches, their punches and kicks, it sent pain shooting throughout her body, and couldn't stop her screaming that resulted from it. She moved her hands along the ground, trying to inch herself away from them. Her nails dug into the softening, wet earth as she moved, the dirt stained her clothes.

She considered just laying there, letting them take her. But only for a moment; no longer would she be useless, even if her pistol was. She was angry at their situation, and these beings would be good to take it out on. Balling up her fists, she punched the nearest one, and sent it flying backwards. She knew it wouldn't kill them, but it was the least she could do to keep them at bay.

Louis' breathing was heavy, ragged. He clutched at his badly torn abdomen as blood poured out of him, staining his white shirt and the ground he lay on.

"Hang on sweetie, I got a health kit for ya," Rochelle said, hurriedly taking off the pack. She glanced up every few seconds, shooting the infected that came near, easily.

"What is it?" she asked, suddenly noticing his movements. Louis had his arm outstretched, as if he were reaching for something, causing Rochelle to look in his direction. The radio he had so carefully guarded for so long lay broken on the ground from his fall, pieces strewn about. It looked almost impossible to repair.

She couldn't help thinking, what now?

She looked around feeling the hope evaporate as quickly as it came when she heard there were others coming. Zoey was on the ground, Ellis was battling an army of infected, Louis and Francis were badly wounded, and the other three were fighting a large, stubborn tank. And now, there was no way to contact those people again, possibly the only other survivors. It was hopeless, she couldn't help feeling like these were going to be their last few moments. But that didn't mean she had to let Louis die; she saw his eyes closing, his breathing slowing down.

"Stay with me," she urged as she pulled out the gauze.

Bill, Nick, and Coach fired at the tank, using their guns for all they were worth, burning through all their ammo. Yet still, all the effort seemed to do nothing against the tank's thick skin. And with only three people against it, the effort was futile. They knew this, but still they tried; it was either them or it. The tank thrashed about wildly, throwing anything that could get, forming cracks in the street with its massive weight.

Where do they come from?

The men moved around the tank, trying not to get too close, but just like their bullets, the act did very little. For a large being, the tank moved quickly; it was difficult to predict his actions, let alone avoid them. The tank picked up a nearby rock and threw it; it crashed against a building raining shards of earth on the men. A large piece of earth hit Coach, knocking him hard in the arm. He fell to the ground, covered in dirt wet from the rain.

"Hang on Coach!" Nick shouted, turning around to help his fallen friend. He didn't get to him, for the tank knocked him aside, sending him flying towards a building across the street. With a grunt, he hit the wall hard and fell, landing on his back.

The tank's beady eyes darted back and forth looking for its next target. They landed on Bill, the only one left, and bounded towards him, shaking the earth as it went. The tank, large in comparison to Bill, picked him up with ease and threw him, straight through the air to a destination unknown to his fallen companions.

Rochelle looked up with fear as the tank picked up another rock and held it high above its head, preparing to throw. It was clear that they would be next. Only they didn't have a chance to move. She looked down at Louis, whose eyes were closed. Looks like this is it…

All of a sudden, fire erupted on the tank, its blazing body looking brilliant against the sun that peeked through the clouds. The rock dropped to his feet, the tank itself joining it on the ground. The sudden Molotov had finally been the device to kill it. But who had thrown it? Coach crawled out from under the rocks, clutching his arm with an expression of clear surprise. He looked over and spotted Nick in the brush next to a building across the large street, trying to sit up despite the intense pain in his back.

A dark van pulled up beside the fallen tank with heavily masked and padded people pouring out of it before it had even come to a stop. Their guns were already out and firing, some had pipe bombs and did not hesitate to throw them. The weakened survivors could only stare in awe at what was happening. These were normal people; and they were slaughtering the infected, clearing the street easily. The bombs blew up the remaining infected that their guns didn't hit. It felt like a dream, almost like a miracle.

Ellis dropped the worn axe to his feet; he didn't need it anymore; and ran to Zoey, the dead bodies of infected scattered around her. She almost looked part of them, like after all the times of coming back, they had finally killed her. He felt himself let out the breath he was holding when he saw her struggle through the mass, trying to get up. Her face was covered with blood and sweat, similar to his own, but she managed a smile when she saw him and accepted his hand to help her up. She groaned from the pain in her body, as she stood and leaned against Ellis for support.

"Don't worry I got you," he said soothingly.

"Thanks. What's going on?"

"They came." The sun was fully visible now, now setting from the lateness of the day. It illuminated Ellis's gleaming face. "Let's go find the others."

They moved slowly towards the other side of the street, where two of the masked people were assisting with Louis. Rochelle stood nearby, keeping watch. More people helped Coach to his feet, while a few more grabbed Nick and Francis from their various places.

It was amazing how things had calmed down. The streets were clear now, almost quiet compared to the commotion that had occurred minutes ago. And somehow, after all that, they were alive. Or so it seemed. Zoey looked around, counting. There were only seven of them out there, out of the people they could recognize.

"Where's Bill?" she asked, growing concerned.

"I don't know…" Ellis trailed off, but Zoey didn't give him time to speak anyway. She limped ahead of Ellis as quick as she could, scanning the area. All she could see were her six friends and the masked strangers. Approaching the dark van with everyone else, she asked again,

"Where's Bill? I don't see him."

"The tank knocked him somewhere," Coach said, his voice strained from the pain in his arm.

"We have to go look for him!" Zoey said cringing with worry. "Guys, hurry, we have to…"

"Is this man part of your party?" A man asked, interrupting her. Everyone glanced over to see the limp figure of Bill in the man's arms.

Zoey's hand tightened around Ellis's arm, the shock almost stopping her heart. He couldn't be…

"I'm sorry," the man continued. "He was already gone when we found him."

Zoey felt her throat tighten; her squirming insides turn to nothing. She felt like she couldn't move, couldn't breathe. Bill was strong, if anyone could take a punch it was him. He lead them to safety so many times…Zoey lay against Ellis as hot tears ran down her cheeks, the breath caught in her throat finally released as she sobbed. She dug her face into his chest, not wanting to see the dead body that those men wrapped up in a bag and placed in the van.

Ellis comforted her, stroked her hair as she cried, held her for a few more minutes before seeing the nod of one of the masked men. He knew she needed to grieve. But he also knew they had to get out of here before they were all killed.

"Zoey, it's time to go," he said softly.

She nodded; it was time. Finally they were leaving this hell; there was no reason to stay. She followed her friends who one after the other piled into the van. The last thing she heard was the cry of another incoming attack before she closed the doors from it, and into Ellis's awaiting arms.