Monday - 2310 hours.

Private Mark Samson ran down the main road of the village, his rifle slapping against his back. He had slung the weapon so he could concentrate on his running.

He glanced over his shoulder as he went and almost lost his footing at the sight that greeted him.

What looked like the entirety of the village he had been sent to secure looked to be back there.

He saw some of the 'fresher' victims close on his heels. Further back came the old people and the children.

So many of them.

One thought seemed to reverberate throughout his mind as he barrelled down the street.

What the hell was I thinking.

He tore around another bend and hugged the wall trying to keep away from the centre of the street.

He had a good lead on the things that were following; maybe two minutes if he was lucky.

As he passed the front door of the closest home something stepped out into his path and the two of them fell in a tangle to the rough concrete.

Mark fell heavily on his side, the receiver of his rifle digging painfully into his shoulder and spine.

He put the pain and discomfort aside and rolled to one side jumping lithely to his feet and turning to face the treat that was waiting for him.

He looked into the terrified eyes of the teenager ahead of him and they stared straight back. They started to shuffle backwards, their course taking them back towards the corner of the building and the street that he had just come from.

He raised a hand and started towards the other figure, a warning stating to form on his lips.

'Wait, don't … let me …'

He never got to finish what he was trying to say.

The first of the infected came around the corner and literarily launched itself at the helpless figure on the floor. Hands that were now more akin to claws tore at the boys eyes pulling one of them free before he could even scream. As the juicy morsel popped from the socket the creature sucked it into its own mouth. Teeth clamped down and the eyeball became so much mush between its jaws.

It looked up for a split second and regarded Mark with a look of the up-most vacancy in its eyes, just pure hatred and hunger and fell once again on its helpless meal.

Mark stood in a kind of daze and unsung his rifle.

Lining up the sights he drew a bead on the youngsters head.

His remaining eye cleared for the fleetest of moments and he closed it becoming rigid as the thing above him darted its jaws in for another bite of bloody red meat.

Mark pulled the trigger and, not waiting around to see the results, resumed his run in the opposite direction. As he gained the speed that he had had a minute before the next person came into view, it too falling on the cooling corpse of the teenager.

Private Samson ran.

A pale arm shot out of a doorway as he passed and pulled him into the darkness inside.

x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x

Philip eased back a corner of the heavy curtain and risked a quick peek outside. The last of the people that had been there had gone, just this minute moving out of view. He lifted the fabric up slightly more and dared to hope for the best.

The woman who had been at the side of the house just out of sight threw her face against the glass. The pane cracked but held, for the moment.

Her nose shattered as it came into contact with the clear barrier. Blood and snot smeared the window as she slid her face across the pane. Philip shouted a quick curse and stepped back into the room, the curtain falling back into its place.

The shadow of the woman outside deformed for a moment as if growing and widening and then his the window frame off to the side.

Once…

Twice…

A third time.

There came the muffled sound of a body falling to the floor.

Someone knocked on the window.

'Hello?' Anyone there?'

Philip looked at where Mary stood, his boy held tight then, taking a deep breath, moved forward once more. With shaking fingers he pulled the curtain aside again.

The soldier on the other side smiled back at him, his face filthy with smudged camouflage paint.

'Military, I'm her to rescue you.'

His smile grew wider.

'You going to let me in? Or do I need to stand here all night?'

x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x

Wilkes stood at the window of the abandoned home, his hand held up to quiet the others standing nearby.

He looked to the space in the wall where the door had been before being broken. By who he didn't know, it had been done long before they got there.

The soldier who had stumbled past their hiding spot sat on the floor, his weapon trained on the dark rectangle. He was under no delusions, as were the rest of them, that if they were found and had to defend their position then their goose was well and truly cooked.

The first noise, the first gunshot and it would be all over I a minute. They would be torn apart.

He stood as still as a statue and watched the street.

He didn't have to wait for long.

The infected swarmed past the building like a rotten tide; dozens upon dozens of figures. A large figure wearing the remnants of a police uniform stopped and lifted his face into the sky seeming to sniff the air. It turned its head and just for the briefest of moments both man and dead seemed to lock stares with each other. Then apparently satisfied it dropped its gaze and loped off into the crowd once more.

The soldiers stood or sat motionless for a full twenty minutes until they were sure that the last of the huge group had gone past.

Wilkes let his hand drop to his side quietly putting the hammer down on the .45 in his hand, he let out the breath that he had been holding and slumped against the wall.

He realised someone had been talking.

'What?'

'Sir, I said I found survivors.'

He swivelled his head and could just make out the silhouette of the soldier who had spoken.

'Say again son?'

'Just thought you would like to know, sir.'