When the Hunters Become.
The group left the park and stalked hastily into the ruined and burning city. The fire had ceased falling, but the flames created by the falling fire continued their molestation of the city's buildings. The sun was now at its fullest, shining happily upon the company. Deadly quiet houses and commercial buildings loomed on all sides of the street the battalion walked. In an uninterrupted hour of travel, the legion reached their base camp.
Tanks, shining brightly in the new sunlight, were grouped in pairs all around in a half circle. There were at least ten armored tanks surrounding the headquarters. Two men manned each of the vehicles. The tanks, though unbeknownst to the trio, Sarah, Fal, and Dory, were fully loaded and armed. Large craters lie in a smattering all around the strongpoint.
Fifty soldiers stood guard within the half ring of armor, with automatic firearms readied at their sides. Each of them had also a sidearm pistol and a sharp knife in their boots. They all wore identical camouflage uniforms.
A large ramada-like tent with a netted top had been pitched in the center of the clearing. Under the shading roof, men jostled all about, some conversing, some planning, and some were taking stock of their supplies. One man from under the shade came out to speak with Damon, the leading officer from the attack party sent out to the ballpark.
"Hey! Damon!" the man shouted out to the company. "How'd it go out there?"
Damon frowned in frustration. His brown eyes closed thoughtfully. The undead resistance had been more than anticipated and for all their preparation, the company had still lost ten good soldiers in the battle at the park.
"Not good," he muttered lowly as the man drew near.
The man from the tent finally reached the group. His eyes were squinted in concern, as he feared for the reason things did not fare well at the park.
"Why?" he asked hurriedly. "What happened?" He was afraid of the answer: his best friend had gone out as well and he feared for his friend's life.
Damon leant to the side and placed his right hand on his hip. He sighed softly. "Too many men died. At least ten. Ten is not good. No deaths would have been good," he noticed with solemnity.
The other man, Rory, narrowed his eyes at the stickler for death that was his captain. Rory knew that no fight could be won without loss, but Damon was having a hard time coping with that reality, or so he thought.
* * * * * * * * * * * *
Beams of a dying sun blazed down upon the base as the members of the military group began preparations to leave. Tents were being taken down and armored vehicles were fueled and readied to move. A hundred men and women had been fed and armed.
In the four hours the three had been at the camp, they had not been permitted to converse and were guarded. Faladon was pacing about on the asphalt near the edge of camp, close to the barbed wire ramparts placed there by the military. Sarah and Dorris sat in the camp's interior.
Soldiers were bustling all around the stronghold, packing things away and removing radios from the command tent. All of these were placed in sheltered flatbed trucks to be transported back to the quarantine's edge, where a barricade was.
All of the time that Faladon had been alone, he was brooding darkly. He was thinking and wondering what had made these creatures that most had deemed the Afflicted. They were seemingly bent on one objective sometimes; one special objective.
He turned to the guard nearby and shouted, "They are going to catch us and kill us and we're going to turn into one of those godless things!!!" His breast was heaving from emotion, but the guard waved his warning away dismissively. "Be quiet!" he hissed. "Be quiet so as not to disturb the other residents."
Faladon slumped against a pole that held one of the tents up. They think I am crazy, driven mad with death, he thought. Maybe I am crazy. But how can I be? I live. he considered before standing to allow a soldier to retrieve the tent post from the ground.
* * * * * * * * * * *
"Everybody ready! Get moving!" shouted Rory, waving his arm to the north. Sarah glanced all around, but saw only a glimpse of her lover before two soldiers heaved him into the back of a flatbed truck. The woman sighed dejectedly and stepped up into another army truck.
Once she was inside, Dory was sat nearby. The other woman tried to make conversation, but Sarah simply ignored her. With a roar, the truck she was in started and growled forward down a decrepit street. No one heard Sarah as she sobbed quietly admidst the noises of the truck.
The group left the park and stalked hastily into the ruined and burning city. The fire had ceased falling, but the flames created by the falling fire continued their molestation of the city's buildings. The sun was now at its fullest, shining happily upon the company. Deadly quiet houses and commercial buildings loomed on all sides of the street the battalion walked. In an uninterrupted hour of travel, the legion reached their base camp.
Tanks, shining brightly in the new sunlight, were grouped in pairs all around in a half circle. There were at least ten armored tanks surrounding the headquarters. Two men manned each of the vehicles. The tanks, though unbeknownst to the trio, Sarah, Fal, and Dory, were fully loaded and armed. Large craters lie in a smattering all around the strongpoint.
Fifty soldiers stood guard within the half ring of armor, with automatic firearms readied at their sides. Each of them had also a sidearm pistol and a sharp knife in their boots. They all wore identical camouflage uniforms.
A large ramada-like tent with a netted top had been pitched in the center of the clearing. Under the shading roof, men jostled all about, some conversing, some planning, and some were taking stock of their supplies. One man from under the shade came out to speak with Damon, the leading officer from the attack party sent out to the ballpark.
"Hey! Damon!" the man shouted out to the company. "How'd it go out there?"
Damon frowned in frustration. His brown eyes closed thoughtfully. The undead resistance had been more than anticipated and for all their preparation, the company had still lost ten good soldiers in the battle at the park.
"Not good," he muttered lowly as the man drew near.
The man from the tent finally reached the group. His eyes were squinted in concern, as he feared for the reason things did not fare well at the park.
"Why?" he asked hurriedly. "What happened?" He was afraid of the answer: his best friend had gone out as well and he feared for his friend's life.
Damon leant to the side and placed his right hand on his hip. He sighed softly. "Too many men died. At least ten. Ten is not good. No deaths would have been good," he noticed with solemnity.
The other man, Rory, narrowed his eyes at the stickler for death that was his captain. Rory knew that no fight could be won without loss, but Damon was having a hard time coping with that reality, or so he thought.
* * * * * * * * * * * *
Beams of a dying sun blazed down upon the base as the members of the military group began preparations to leave. Tents were being taken down and armored vehicles were fueled and readied to move. A hundred men and women had been fed and armed.
In the four hours the three had been at the camp, they had not been permitted to converse and were guarded. Faladon was pacing about on the asphalt near the edge of camp, close to the barbed wire ramparts placed there by the military. Sarah and Dorris sat in the camp's interior.
Soldiers were bustling all around the stronghold, packing things away and removing radios from the command tent. All of these were placed in sheltered flatbed trucks to be transported back to the quarantine's edge, where a barricade was.
All of the time that Faladon had been alone, he was brooding darkly. He was thinking and wondering what had made these creatures that most had deemed the Afflicted. They were seemingly bent on one objective sometimes; one special objective.
He turned to the guard nearby and shouted, "They are going to catch us and kill us and we're going to turn into one of those godless things!!!" His breast was heaving from emotion, but the guard waved his warning away dismissively. "Be quiet!" he hissed. "Be quiet so as not to disturb the other residents."
Faladon slumped against a pole that held one of the tents up. They think I am crazy, driven mad with death, he thought. Maybe I am crazy. But how can I be? I live. he considered before standing to allow a soldier to retrieve the tent post from the ground.
* * * * * * * * * * *
"Everybody ready! Get moving!" shouted Rory, waving his arm to the north. Sarah glanced all around, but saw only a glimpse of her lover before two soldiers heaved him into the back of a flatbed truck. The woman sighed dejectedly and stepped up into another army truck.
Once she was inside, Dory was sat nearby. The other woman tried to make conversation, but Sarah simply ignored her. With a roar, the truck she was in started and growled forward down a decrepit street. No one heard Sarah as she sobbed quietly admidst the noises of the truck.