Remnants

Nick Jameson and the rest of his Delta Force team prowled along the rooftops. Catlike, Nick dropped to one knee and put his right hand up, curling it into a fist. His team halted.

Nick placed a hand over his ear and motioned towards his teammates, and inaudibly mouthed the words; "Cover me, I'll recon the area."

"Oh shit, before I go, did we eliminate the undead in this area?"

A thumbs up by a man holding a sniper rifle signified the answer.

Nick nodded and moved swiftly close to the ledge of the rooftop. Nick briefly paused to take in the breadth of the destruction at hand. Fires licked at monuments in the National Mall. Corpses littered the streets, and Nick swore that he could see some of his former teammates in the distance walking the streets, caught in a permanent limbo between life and death. If I could spare the bullets, I would execute the lot of you bastards right now. Nick switched back to reality and like an Olympic gymnast; he leaped over the roof and landed on the fire escape. Nick momentarily glanced upwards. Morning. At this time, in a normal world, Nick would be doing basic exercises to keep his fit, strong figure. Don't let the undead apocalypse keep you from achieving your goal, Nick. You're going to take that van, head down to the riverfront, and live for another 10 years.

Nick moved down the stairs with rapid footsteps, his rifle bobbing up and down with each descending movement. As soon as he reached the bottom, he scanned the perimeter. With his right hand, he motioned upwards and at the same time mouthed "Clear." Half of the team moved down the stairs with ease that Nick had not been privileged. The rest stayed clear, waiting for the van to pass by them.

Nick smirked and brushed aside a strand of his sandy blonde hair.

The early bird gets the worm.

David was tired. A yawn escaped his lips. How long had he been driving for? Five, six, twelve hours? Eighteen? And for what purpose? To live underground with five other people for the next five years? And what about after that? Will society rebuild itself to what we had yesterday? David glanced at a 9mm bullet that lay nestled in a paper cup by his side. Is life worth living? David's thoughts were interrupted by Chris as he stepped over to David's side and lay a hand on his shoulder.

"I gotta piss."

With a sigh, David turned his head and spoke. "Does anyone else need to go to the bathroom?"

A show of hands.

Isaac grinned like a Chesire cat. "Ah, democracy at work."

"Sir, we have the vehicle in our sights! Permission to engage?"

"Hold fire. Team, let's move!"

Nick and the rest of his team half-ran and half crouched through the alleyways, dodging several undead at the same time. Nick dropped to a prone position, peering through the scope on his rifle. He mouthed the descriptions of the subjects that he saw. "One African American male, bald. One white female, blonde hair, One white male, black hair. Huh. A jarhead survived all this? One Hispanic male, long brown hair. Prepare to engage." "Roger that, sir."

Isaac hopped out of the van through the driver's side door and joined Chris, David, and Brian next to the wall. "Where's all the deadheads?", Brian asked. "Maybe their terrified of my schlong.", Chris joked.

"The only thing they'd be terrified of is your fat head", David said with a grunt, accompanied by the splashing of piss.

Chris reached out to playfully bitchslap David.

"Sniper 2, Shoot the coon. Wound shots until further orders."

CRACK. Chris fell to the ground, bleeding profusely from his shoulder. Isaac spun around, and without thinking ran over to Chris. Marine Corps mantra ran through his head like a stampede. If a fellow soldier falls, it is your duty to carry him to safety... He took Chris by the arms, ignoring the guttural screams of anguish from his fallen comrade. He lay Chris next to the van and retrieved his Beretta from his side. Jenny sprung up from behind a concrete block, ready to sprint over to the fallen form of the man she secretly loved. Brian turned to Jenny from behind the cover of the van and sternly yelled for her not to move. A stream of thoughts ran through Brian's head. I'm not going to puss out this time...I have to act. There's someone out there that's trying to kill my friends...I have to act!"

A voice shattered the melancholic atmosphere.

"To the occupants of the armored vehicle, please lay down your arms and place your hands where we can see them. You will not be harmed." David shot Isaac a worried glance while keeping a death grip on his P-14. "What are we gonna do?" Almost forgetting that his comrade-in-arms was wounded, Isaac spoke gravely; "Let's find out who they are first." David poked his head around the side of the van. "Who are you?!"

A stream of .223 bullets directly over his head answered his question, as ran back to his position.

"WE ARE THE DELTA FORCE SPECIAL OPERATIONS UNIT. LAY DOWN YOUR WEAPONS AND YOU WILL NOT BE HARMED."

Jenny's shrill voice only accentuated Isaac's worries. "We can't just let him bleed out! Put pressure on the wound for God's sakes!"

Jenny was no doctor, but she was the only thing still alive that was close to it. Isaac motioned for Brian to put pressure on Chris's wound.

Isaac gazed downward, considering his options.

We can't take on the most elite fighting force on the planet. I'm a politician, not a warrior.

We can't run. They'll hunt us down and kill us in our sleep.

But...would they shoot their own President?

Isaac sighed and walked around the van to face the building where the gunfire was coming from.

"Mr. President, what the hell are you doing?!", came David's voice. Isaac ignored it, choosing simply to stand in the open, waiting for the Delta's response. Isaac noticed that there were several shambling undead gathering, probably drawn to the sound of the gunfire.

Nick pinched his arm to make sure he wasn't dreaming.

The President? Of all the people...

"All units, hold fire. Engage hostile creatures at will."

Nick stood up, walking towards the President.

The first words out of Isaac's mouth were cold and unsympathetic. "You shot one of my men." "I didn't, sir, it was a man under my comm.-"

"I don't give a shit.

Do you have a medic on hand."

"Half my squad is dead, we've run low on supplies. Only enough for the next three days."

"Why did you shoot at us?"

"Well, there have been reports of groups of bandits killing and robbing civilian safehouses, we figured that you guys were one of them."

The intensity of the conversation was interrupted by sporadic bursts of gunfire from the Deltas fending off the undead.

Isaac again focused on Nick.

"Tell me the truth, soldier."

"I just told you.."

"THE TRUTH, SOLDIER."

"We wanted to steal your armored car and seek out a safe place."

"Understandable. You are relieved of command as of this moment."

"Sir!"

With lightning speed, Isaac placed the sights of his Beretta in between Nick's eyes. "Don't make me say it again." "Get your medic over there and get him to do his best to save my soldier's life." "Yes, sir."

Later that day, Isaac and the rest of the group, along with the Deltas, took refuge in the office building.

(So how was that? Sorry I rushed a bit at the end. The technology may not be realistic, but hey, let a man dream! :/))