The mildewy smell of the hanger made John lose his appetite. The food wasn't very delectable anyway. His father Cody was the first to admit it every time they dined in the hangar. At least the cold nights were over. Winter had come and gone and spring was making its roots. Too bad the flora of the desert stayed the same throughout the last six months while John's family held refuge at FTi Alpha.

"John, you need to eat something." Sarah said, sitting across from him at their makeshift table. John couldn't reply, instead scooping the murky stew from his tin can and letting the gooey contents spill from his spoon back into its container. Silence continued to fill their table while the rest of the hangar was filled with talkative voices and bursts of laughter throughout. It was heaven on Earth for all of them, John couldn't comprehend why they were able to count their blessings and his group couldn't, "John!" She called once more. John looked at Sarah this time. Her eyes glistened with dry tears when she hadn't even been able to cry for several weeks. Her emotions were dried up.

John decided to continue eating out of pity for her. As he brought the spoon to his mouth, the foul stench of the salt-infected meat reached his nostrils. Before he could consume the spoonful, a hand came swiping in, knocking the spoon from his hands, sending the handful of freshly served stew to the floor. No one was in the trajectory, but people behind them turned, out of curiosity to see what the noise was.

"You don't have to listen to her, John." Said the man sitting next to him, John turned from Sarah's direction who looked at the man with a glaring look of disappointment.

John's pity for Sarah started to spread towards the man as well, Cody.

"Not like we deserve to eat this shit." Cody mumbled. John and Sarah looked at him in confusion, as well as fright, knowing this was a regular thing for him to be eccentric.

"Remember those kids mingling with the general, wandering around like they own the place? They've got nice cozy beds just down the street." Cody had the fakest smile on the planet growing on his face as he spoke, "They probably get five star meals and masseuses to tend to their growing pains. While we sit here and continue to eat shit like dogs." His nostrils flared.

"You know when we came here, they seemed so welcome. That general, whatisname? Goose? Made me think we had a chance here. Wasn't that a crock of shit." Cody said, menacingly shaking his head.

John and Sarah just looked at him, Sarah's disappointment and John's growing irritation beamed towards him.

"I shouldn't have done it. Shouldn't have made you come here, not like Vegas was any better but still...We would've been fine trekking towards California or something, but I decided to stop...like an idiot."

"Cody, we're doing fine! We're still alive right?" Cody just glared at Sarah.

"Then you're just like the rest, if you can't accept we deserve better after the shit...he put us through." Cod replied. Sarah and John felt chills, knowing whom he was referring to.

"Think it's time this place went under new management." Cody proposed. Sarah's emotions turned to fear while John started to raise his eyebrows in agreement.

"This isn't Vegas, Cody. These people are not like Malcolm's people." Sarah argued.

Without missing a beat, Cody turned towards Sarah, "Don't...you ever...say his name..." He said.

"It's bad enough we only get 3 ration cards a day to split amongst us, but to get shit like this?" Cody said, taking his own container of slop and turning it upside down. The juices and chunks of meat spilled onto the table, still steaming from their production. The noise caught people's attention around him only for a second.

"I've had it too." John chimed in. Sarah looked in shock, "I'm done being treated like a dog while the rest lives in luxury, not after all we've been through." Sarah's eyes began to shake as she darted between the two, realizing they were becoming something she had worried they would become during the entire winter, like someone they all knew and chose to forget. John leaned in close to Cody.

"What'd you have in mind?"

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Hey Zombies

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Spring

"The last man on Earth sat alone in a room. There was a knock on the door." Helga Shortman read aloud from a book, "What a suggestion football head! If that isn't the most interesting and most boring story I've ever read...I could've trimmed my nails in the time it took to read this." She said towards the open bathroom door where Arnold stood. The humming buzz of a razor drug up and down as Arnold trimmed his beard. The hairs from his cheek and neck fluttered into the sink at his waist.

"It's the shortest story ever written, that's gotta count for something amazing." Arnold called as he pulled his switchblade from his pocket to cut the shorter hairs, "At two sentences long it still speaks for something."

"Well for a book called Western Anth-an-Anthologies of Science Fiction and Horror Stories I expected something a bit more my taste. I mean, Arnold I can't even pronounce half the words on the front cover. Seriously, The Walking Dead is more gutsy than this, literally!" Helga said sarcastically as she placed it next to her on the bed.

Just then, Arnold walked out of the bathroom, a freshly trimmed goatee on his face. The brown hairs traced under his nose and wrapped around the tip of his lips and down to his chin. Helga admired Arnold's new look, and then she admired the fact he was completely shirtless. His thin body and shimmering abs sparkled in Helga's eyes.

Arnold could tell what she was thinking by the newly formed blushes forming on her cheeks and how her legs moved across the bed sheets in a suggestive manner. She could've jumped him right then and there if he wasn't wearing pants already. Too much effort to undo the belt on her part.

"Well? What do you think, should I keep it?" Arnold asked.

"Whatever you want, Heisenberg." Helga said with a minor smirk.

"What happened to 'football head'?" Arnold said as he approached the bed.

"I think you know who's going to be the new football head." Helga said as she patted her stomach, slightly rounder in shape. Arnold knelt down and stuck a kiss right on her belly button. He looked up at Helga, her face glistening.

"I love you." He said, towering over her, leaning his arms against the bed on both sides of her head. He leaned in and pecked her on the lips.

"Love you too." Helga responded, biting her lip bashfully after they broke contact.

"I'll be at training. Get someone on the P.A. for me if you need anything." Arnold said as he donned a long sleeve green shirt, rolled the sleeves up and put a khaki jacket over it.

Arnold headed right out the door. The warm dewey scent of morning enwrapped Arnold's face, welcoming him to the outdoors.

"Hey there Walter White! Liking the new look!" said a nasally hick voice from below. Arnold leaned over the balcony to see Stinky, Harold and Eugene standing in the vacant parking lot, surrounded by decrepit cars and torched vehicle wreckage.

Arnold smiled at the sight of his friends and dashed across the balcony to the stairs which led to the first floor rooms of the motel. "Hey guys! Off to training?"

"Of course! I've still got some winter weight to lose." Harold joked with a smile.

"You know me...anything to counter my life's luck would be a big help." Eugene chimed in.

"Could be worse Eugene, remember when we took this motel a couple months ago?" Arnold added as they walked towards the corner of the motel.

"True, did we really lose six people that day?"

"Seven." Harold corrected Eugene, melancholic about his response.

"I still have nightmares about Jessica...she was really cute." Stinky said, his eyes started to droop.

"That's why we're training now guys, these people need to know how to protect themselves." Arnold said, gesturing to the rooms behind them, all housing survivors that FTi Alpha had let in over the past seven months since Arnold and his group arrived. Alpha troops expanded out to Denison, the city five miles outside of the base, starting with the motel which was liberated a couple months ago when space at Alpha started running low. Around it was a security fence emplaced by military soldiers at Alpha, about seven feet high and wrapped the entire motel for a means of immediate safety. At the front of the gate, near its entrance, four soldiers stood guard, changing shifts every 6 hours, their tents were put up close to the entrance as well as a truck that rested beside the tent.

Past the fence, was the parkway that lead out of the town, headed to Alpha, merely a speck several miles east. Arnold and his group watched several weakened infected clawing at the fence as they turned the corner towards the recreational yard.

"How's your guys' room holding up?" Arnold asked as they walked onto the court. Harold went for a box that sat against the building, locked up. He opened it to reveal practice weapons and makeshift safety gear.

"No room service or chocolate on my pillow, but better to be in here than out there." Stinky replied as he prepared to stretch. As they spoke, more people started coming around the corner, other survivors, all dressed in worn out t-shirts or jackets. A couple kids came along but they were in too much of a cluster to determine who the kids' parents were, that is if they were still with them.

"Just glad we were able to clear this motel in time before winter struck. Alpha was getting crammed" Eugene said.

"You've been saying that all winter Eugene, how glad or thankful can you get?" Harold asked, as he laid out the contents of the crate for people to pick up.

"Till the day I die Harold." Eugene replied, his typical response to getting called out for his idiosyncrasies. Stinky gave him a nod of approval.

"Can't believe it's been seven months." Harold added.

"And we're stronger than we've ever been. No one's gonna say otherwise." Arnold replied.

Stinky then pointed straight ahead at the fence leading out to the street, "I would say those fellers disagree with ya." He said, pointing at several infected sluggishly walking up to the fence and clawing away at it, prying to get in. The guard on duty approached the fence, stabbing each of them with a clean shot from his bayonet. As they dropped to the floor, blackish slop pouring out of their head wounds, the guard slid his knife back into his leg holster and returned to his post.

"They move so slow now." Harold said.

"Must be starving after not getting anything during the winter. They're getting weaker." Stinky chimed in.

"Doesn't mean we don't have to fight them. Let's get going." Arnold said as he walked in front of the group to begin their combat training.

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The atmosphere at FTi Alpha couldn't have been more uppity. With refugees coming in during the winter months, Alpha had more working hands than they knew what to do with. Most helped with survival operations, living space however was low, a large sum of the new refugees stayed in the hangar. The only issue they had was supplies...

In the science lab, Miles and Stella took turns examining the broken Corazon shard they used to cure Charlie, while Krieg and Victor looked over paperwork on their clipboards, pens scrawling up and down.

Miles sported a goatee of his own and Victor chose to keep his scruff from his imprisoned days.

Victor sat at a desk, writing in his journal. The date "April 12, 2013" was scrawled next to more text and what looked like Chinese algebra to everybody else but Victor. The findings were very few since Charlie was cured. Not much could be done during the winter months which mostly consisted of holding the fort and dry supply runs.

"Have you talked to your son yet?" Victor asked. Miles and Stella looked at each other, thinking of their response. Miles turned towards Victor than back towards his microscope.

"Can't say I have. It's been a hard time for him, what with his kid on the way." He replied.

"Last I checked, you were the ones talking about the Green Eyed people being 'not trusting' and not willing to give up their artifact. Shouldn't we start planning how the hell we're gonna get there?" Victor argued.

"Don't push it. We're low on supplies as it is, what with almost a hundred mouths to feed. And we still can't send squads to Vegas, the gang activity is too high. Plus, we can't just fly down there expecting an easy trip. We agreed to start planning in May once the warm temperatures settle in, remember?" Stella chimed in, siding with her husband of course.

"Things change you know, I'm just trying to get us back on schedule." Victor refuted.

"I'll talk to Goose before I bring it up to my son. In the mean time, you need to worry first about getting the airfield secure for our flight down there."

"We've had zero contact for months Miles, do you honestly expect me to pull an airfield out of my ass and plaster it in the middle of the jungle?"

"Considering everything else you've hid in your ass for the past year? I'm sure you'll figure it out." Miles said with a smile as he returned to the microscope.

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Stinky went in for the undercut but Arnold blocked it with a grip of his wrist. Stinky was distracted by the arm work he didn't see Arnold's leg sweeping under and knocking him to the ground. Arnold immediately went for his throat with the dull knife and Stinky tapped the asphalt. "Yield Arnold yield!...Yeesh!" Stinky cried out.

Arnold smirked and helped Stinky to his feet. Everybody else was practicing the same thing, "Keep all possibilities open when attacking your opponent Stinky." He said patting his shoulder out of approval. Arnold began to stroll through the other sparring groups.

"Remember that the infected are not the only ones out there! You find yourself a gold mine of canned food, someone's already camped outside ready to jump you or even worse have a sniper scope fixed right on your head. Adapt to the situation, if they're ranged, you go ranged with your weapon, if they get in close, always choose melee, you'll make less noise and you'll incapacitate your opponent if you pay attention!"Arnold said as he approached Charlie whom was practicing against Eugene with his fist work. Arnold gripped Charlie's elbows and adjusted them, "Learn to be loose in close quarter combat, you'll never get an open shot if you don't breath and sharpen your eyesight. You gotta move like water."

Charlie nodded with a smile. Arnold looked back towards where Stinky was and saw he wasn't there anymore. Over by the motel wall, he saw Stinky slumped against it, sitting on the cold dewey asphalt, his head resting in his arms. Arnold approached him and sat down with him.

"What's going on Stinks?" He asked. Stinky gave no response. Arnold looked at the practicing survivors then back at him. They were silent for a minute.

"Yknow I still miss my grandpa right? Not a day goes by that I think about his sacrifice to save our friend Charlie." Arnold said, breaking the silence.

"It's just..." Stinky choked, holding back his sobs, "I miss my parents...I don't even know where they are, if they even know to head this way or if they're even alive..."

Arnold had no reply, Stinky never was one to show raw emotion but this was no surprise to him. It has been almost a year since the outbreak.

"I loved Jessica, you saw that, we were happy together and then...then she just had to trip on that body-" Stinky continued to choke on his words.

"Hey hey, Stinks," Arnold said, taking Stinky into his arms, "We're gonna find your parents buddy, they're out there and they're thinking about you. Goose's men are still broadcasting to all eastern radio stations, they have to be listening." Arnold continued, as he held Stinky like a child. Stinky sat back up after he calmed down a little.

"It's just," He sniffed, "We had so many good times, you, me, everyone in Hillwood, then we're thrown into this pit of chaos and it's like a tainted sandwich covered in delicious ketchup..." Arnold chuckled at Stinky's returned sense of humor. He stood up and helped Stinky to his feet. Arnold put both hands on Stinky's shoulders.

"Stinky, I'm sorry about Jessica and I'm sorry about your parents. But I promise you, we will find them. When have I been wrong?" Arnold refuted. Stinky smiled and nodded.

Just then, a patrol soldier approached the training group, "Arnold! Your dad just radioed me, he wants you down at Alpha soon, gather your gear and I'll take you down there in the truck."

"I'll be right there sir." Arnold replied. He and Stinky shared one more positive glance before he left. Gerald watched as his best friend hopped up the stairs to his motel room. The sight distracted him from the kid he was practicing with about to go in for a cut maneuver. Before he knew it, Gerald was on the ground, Riley with a knife at his throat.

"Whatsa matter Gerald? Not in the mood for cutting bandit throats today?" Riley chided. Gerald shoved him off.

"Not like that Riley, we're not trying to kill, we redirect." Gerald said to him as he shoveled Riley off him, standing him upright.

"The hell does that mean?" Riley exclaimed, with his fresh seventeen-year-old ignorance shining bright in his words.

"Do you even listen to what Arnold says? The living and the dead are our enemies, but that doesn't mean we don't try to reason either of them. An infected dude comes at you, you have to kill it, it's an animal, not a person anymore. But you find yourself in front of a bandit with a knife, you redirect him. Try to get him on your side. Don't ever choose to kill first."

"Whatever," Riley responded, "I'd tear out his jugular before he gets a shot." He grinned slyly.

"Whatever you say kid, now let me see your iron bar counter defense."

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Arnold entered his hotel room, "Practice over so soon?" Helga asked, still laying in bed reading her Christmas gift from Arnold.

"Dad needs me at Alpha, I gotta go." Arnold said as he grabbed his black magnum 6 inch barrel revolver from a dresser drawer. He popped out the cylinder and loaded it with six shimmering bullets. He clicked the cylinder back in and checked the safety before he slid it into his holster on his belt. "Get some rest will you?" Arnold said with a smile as he approached his wife and kissed her delicately on the lips.

"Hurry back soon." Helga grinned. Arnold approached the door, "Wait Arnold," Helga said, Arnold stopped as he gripped the door knob, "I have a name." She said, smiling as she rubbed the basketball lump in her belly.

"Just one name?" Arnold said playfully.

"I think it's gonna be a boy." She replied. Arnold smiled, "We'll talk tonight, I have to go now." As he opened and shut the door. Helga sighed as she rested her hands behind her head and shut her eyes.

Five minutes later she popped them open suddenly, "Oh shit." She exclaimed as she leaned over to look at the night dresser. On it was Arnold's walkie talkie, pure black with a thick antennae, "He forgot his radio!" Helga said to herself as she staggered to her feet, holding the weight of her impregnated stomach in her arms as she hobbled over to the door and burst it open. The truck across the way was gone, only three soldiers were left playing cards at the table. Helga drooped her head in disappointment.

"He'll be back soon." She thought to herself.

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"Okay okay...what do you mean the tissue's getting thicker." Goose asked in major confusion as he flailed his arms in front of Krieg.

"I'm saying that infected tissue, over time begins to develop a thick mucous shell, it becomes more toxic and possibly creates more of a means to infect fresh hosts." Krieg said, Goose was still in awe. "Come here, look at this." Krieg said as Goose followed him to his work station which had three tubs of fluid and discolored flesh in them.

Krieg pointed to the first, "This is from Bowman, after he got bit in March and we put him down immediately after he turned. It's already developed a mucus that covered the whole exterior of the human flesh."

He then pointed to the second, "This is from an infected that was electrified by the fence perimeter on the south side of the base, I can estimate he was infected for about 6 months, and look at how thick the mucous has developed."

Krieg finally pointed to the third, "This is from Ramsey, I sterilized his body when I killed him and kept him locked in the infirmary. I first developed this theory when I saw how his body was continuing to decay, or rather, improve this texture."

Goose looked in shock, "This is 7 months from initial infection." Krieg said as they both looked at the tissue sample, pure grey color and wrinkly like a rhinocerous' skin, nearly six inches thicker than the first sample.

"We need to get the word out," Goose said, "God knows what a 7 month infection looks like on a full body...have you seen any?" He asked Krieg.

"No reports but I can deduce that the longer someone is infected the less...human they look...and if this thicker skin is an adaptable trait, they may be more volatile and harder to kill." Krieg said solemnly.

"Thank you Doc, I'll be on my way." Goose said. He walked out of the lab and proceeded to the comms room, a 10 minute walk.

When he opened the door, Parks was in a feud with whomever he was speaking to.

"And I'm telling you, we can't afford to make such a trip! The amount of gas it would take to go out that far and refill with what's in the drop would be extremely redundant!" Parks was saying as Goose came into the room.

A crackling voice responded on the other end. "Corporal, I don't have time to argue, I know how this sounds, but the chop was too great for us to make it to the actual drop point. Would you rather have both a care package and a crashed plane at the regular distance? Or just the care package just a little further from the regular drop."

Before Parks could respond, "What's the problem specialist?" Goose asked.

"Fort McNair out in Washington sent us another supply drop, but the plane got caught in a storm and it dropped our shit about 15 miles from Denison."

"So are we retrieving it or what?" Goose said, unaffected by Parks' report.

"Sir, with all due respect, did you not just hear me? We'll have 15 miles of extra distance to travel to get to it."

"And we have a hundred people to feed, with already minimal supplies..." Goose refuted. Just then Miles entered.

"General, Krieg told me you were in here, he mentioned his findings on the tissue samples..."

"Not now Miles, we've got bigger fish to fry, there was an issue with the last supply drop." Goose said, "We need to get moving cuz you'll have to travel a few more miles to retrieve it."

"More like 15..." Parks said. Goose rolled his eyes in reply to Parks' comment.

"So what? Let's send another squad to Vegas instead. Maybe the hostiles there have relocated."

"I already lost nearly fifteen men going into that city, I'm not going anywhere near there again..." Goose said.

"Alright fine, Arnold's on the way down here now he'll want to go retrieve it with his team." Miles replied as he turned away. Before he left the room completely, he turned back.

"Victor's been pestering me about the San Lorenzo trip again, I need to talk to Arnold about it, and soon."

Goose just approached Miles and leaned in to speak quieter, "You honestly don't think I'm letting that psychopath dupe you into going back in the jungle again do you?" Miles looked at him in shock.

"Then what have you been letting him do all winter long? Weren't you the one that authorized him to work in the lab?" Miles whispered loudly.

"Let the hamster spin his wheel, keep him thinking he's being productive..." Goose said with a smirk, "Tell your son I need him and his team on this, I'll have the 801st squadron join them and we'll depart by 1700 before it gets dark." Goose prepared to leave.

"General, maybe we should plan this out more? I mean why not just wait till the next one, McNair sends out drops every other week." Miles said, Goose just turned back.

"We've got dozens of people who are already malnourished and with limited food and supplies to give them, taking Denison clearly didn't help us expand and now everyone staying in that Denison motel is looking more pampered then everyone we got corralled in Hanger B. Not to mention your son and new daughter..."

Miles couldn't rebuttal, Goose had a point.

"We need to get these people more food, who knows when and or if someone's already thinking of revolting..."

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Sarah had gone to the bathroom, leaving Cody and John sitting at their sleeping area in the hangar.

"Why not just go for the colonel himself, he has a wife doesn't he? Tell him you'll cut her throat if he doesn't get the general to give us more ration cards." John said. Cody just snickered as he sorted the bullets to the pistol he snuck in when his family first arrived at Alpha.

"Too hard to get to, they stay nice and tucked in the most secure part of the base. But that motel," He said, "That piece of aristocratic shit motel where they get all the good stuff is nice and open for the taking, and guess what, Colonel Miles has a son there." Cody said with a grin.

"Doesn't sound right, going after a man's kid, he'd put you down on the spot if he found out." John said to his dad.

"John, you already agreed to help me in a kidnapping, how can you try to be moral with who we're trying to kidnap and ransom." John just raised his eyebrows and sighed with frustration.

"Sometimes I wish you never took me out of Vegas. I'm worse off with you than I ever was helping that psychopath..." John said. Cody just looked at him, gripping the pistol in his hand as his eyes darted between it and John's solemn glare when he saw the murderous vibe his father gave off with his expression, something a bit too familiar from his days surviving in Vegas.

"Say that again, and the colonel's son won't be the only one I put down, Sarah will be next..." Cody snarled. John stayed quiet as his "father" continued to clean his gun.

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To Be Continued