Group A – Part Four
"We haven't gotten ahead of the truck, have we?" Roger said, his face pressed against the window of the chopper. The streets were for the most part empty, and the undead on the walkways were docile as if they hadn't seen any prey lately. "It doesn't look like it's come this way yet, Flyboy. Could we have lost them?" Peter asked, tapping Stephen on the shoulder lightly.
"Well, I don't know…" Stephen said. The pilot took off his glasses carefully, placing them on the dashboard. "I suppose it's possible that I could've overstepped them, but I don't know how…" Stephen's words cut off, and with good reason. "Look," he said, gaping at a large structure a little ways ahead of the chopper. "What is it?" Fran piped in, looking at the building with a mix of fascination and disbelief.
"It looks like a shopping center," Roger said excitedly. "One of those indoor malls. Sign on the front says Crossroads."
"Should we land, then?" Stephen asked, already knowing that the unanimous answer would be 'yes'. Everybody in the chopper murmured and nodded, and so it was decided. Stephen lowered the chopper slowly and steadily as Peter got his belongings together. The legs of the chopper touched down onto the roof of the mall with a slight thud. The doors of the choppers opened, and Fran stepped out first.
"Look here, man!" Roger said, staring at the wall of the mall's second floor structure. Emblazoned on the side of the wall were the words "Help, Alive Inside". It had been a question on everybody's mind whether or not they would encounter more survivors, and now that it had finally been satiated, there was nothing to say. "This is good," Peter said, readying his rifle as a precaution.
"No, man. I didn't think there'd be anybody here. They'll give us a hard time." Stephen said with a hint of hostility. He began to walk back to the chopper but Peter grabbed him on the shoulder. "Look, man. This is a good thing we got here. I figured there'd be people holed up inside, but they probably ain't gonna care whether or not we're here. After all, the way they worded their SOS, I don't think they gonna be hostile." Stephen just grunted.
"It's the truck!" Fran yelped, pointing indistinctly at one of the roads. Sure enough, the rig that they had seen at Fort Pastor was headed right for their position. Behind them was a lumbering group of about twenty ghouls. The truck swerved, hitting a lighting pole at the front gate of the parking lot. Several more undead in the lot had seen the truck, and the automobile was soon surrounded by flesh-hungry wraiths.
The truck ploughed through many of the undead. It splattered, smashed, and crushed several monsters before it came to the loading bay. The driver reversed the truck with expert skill, and backed the truck into the large door of the loading bay. Peter and Roger ran to see if the driver was still alive, looking over the edge of the mall.
"Shit! Shit!" Roger said, grasping at his hair and screaming obscenities. "What are we gonna do, man?" Suddenly there was a sharp pounding, coming from below Roger and Peter. "Hello!?" hollered a nameless voice. "Is anybody out there?"
"Looks like our friends in the mall have got it covered, Trooper," Peter said, shouldering his rifle. "All we got to do is, well, watch."
Group C – Part Five
Michael listened intently. There was no answer from the people in the truck. "Damn," Michael said, checking the pistol in his hand. The tall salesman looked back at the two people he had brought with him to help the people in the truck to safety. Terry stood in the corner. He was young, but Michael felt that, despite the shellshock he was suffering from the situation, he could be depended on. "Yeah, I'm ready," Terry stammered.
Michael turned to Kenneth, who nodded as he cocked his shotgun. They were as ready as they'd ever be. "I'm going to open the door…" Michael started, reaching for the knob. He grasped it in his hand as Terry and Kenneth stood behind him. Michael opened the door, and the three flooded out into the sea of undead outside.
Terry was the first person out. There were several ghouls around him, and he aimed his gun at the nearest one. Terry squeezed the trigger instinctively, and the monster fell like a stone. Terry turned back, but was suddenly grabbed by the shoulders by another undead. Terry and the monster fell to the ground and rolled around, out of the view of the others. As the monster attempted to bite Terry, he fell into a sort of daze. Things were going slow. The necrotic eyes of the monster had an exotic bloodlust in them. They were tired, or something like that. Terry reached for his gun. He pushed his knee up, hoisting the monster up. Michael heard Terry's gun fire once more, and the wraith was dead.
"Get the door open!" Kenneth screamed, firing a few shots into the small horde of monsters that remained. Michael placed his gun on the side of the truck and lifted the latch to the door. Norma leapt out of the truck, as did Tucker. "Get inside!" Terry yelped, reloading his gun. Michael pushed open the door to the back of the truck as Norma and Tucker ran into the building. Terry did not even get a chance to see how many people were in the back of the truck, nor what shape they were all in. Michael led them to the door leading back to the loading bay. "C'mon, man!" Kenneth said, firing the last of his shotgun shells into the nearest undead. Terry ran back towards the loading bay door as Kenneth stepped inside. A monster leapt out at him, it's teeth bared. A lone shot fired into the air, and the monster dropped, dead. Terry looked at Kenneth, whose back was turned. Terry glanced back toward the roof. Was somebody there? Terry threw the thoughts out of his head and ran back into the loading bay. He quickly shut and bolted the door behind him, and immediately began checking his arms for bites.
"You okay?" Michael said. Terry saw everybody from the truck walking back toward the shopping area of the mall. Terry nodded, his breathing still uneven. Was he really alright? Was any of this okay? Probably not. The world had gone to shit, but to the people in the mall, it seemed alright.
"Michael." Terry stammered, dropping his gun to the floor. He was exhausted. He slid down the wall, slumping against the door. Michael looked back inquisitively, wondering what was left to be dealt with. "Yeah?" Terry pointed to the roof. "I dunno, man, but I think there's somebody on the roof. Just go check."