"Justin, can you pass me the cat?"

"Yeah, sure."

I lay the shotgun down next to me and reached over Xiran and Alex, grabbing the upside-down cat box as Hobbes meowed agitatedly. Sam reached over her chair and took it from me, causing him to calm down. I resumed loading the shotgun.

As we drove through the neighborhood, I took in the sights. First was a car that had crashed into a streetlight, which had left it in a mess of twisted metal and broken glass. I got a quick glimpse of the deployed air bags and a leg hanging out of the driver's seat. I was glad not to have seen the rest. Most of the houses we saw had been abandoned, save for a few. These were completely surrounded, and invariably had small front windows. I made a mental note to consider that as a major selling point for any future houses I may want to purchase. In one case, a group of survivors sat on the roof in lawn chairs and waved at us as we passed by. I guess dad might have stopped if it weren't for the zombies that turned their attention away from them and over to us, trailing slowly behind the car.

Then I saw a bicycle. And then what was left of its owner. Or at least what I assumed to be its owner. As the car rushed past I could see at least six of them huddled around one spot, eating. I couldn't help but see the blood before looking away. My friends were lucky enough not to have witnessed that, as they were concentrating on reloading the .22s. In front of me, Sam hugged Hobbes as he sat there silently, with as much worry in his expression as a cat's face can portray. And as we rounded the corner and saw the road that intersected ours, we were struck by the realization that getting to the mall was not going to be as easy as we had previously thought.

The road ahead of us was a solid, unmoving block of cars. Nearly all of them were empty, their doors still ajar. The amount of accidents, small and large, was amazing. Cars were rammed into each other, presumably from one trying to push another out of the way. Even the sidewalks were filled with cars. The other side of the intersection was packed in a similar manner. On our side, cars had unsuccessfully attempted to ram their way through. About a quarter block away, zombies surrounded an SUV, banging on the windows. They were the lucky ones; what remained of the windows of some cars were only bloody shards of glass. Dad slammed the steering wheel. "Oh, ff-antastic. Alright guys, we gotta get out of the car." Alex stopped loading and froze. I started loading a lot faster. "You mean we're going to walk?" asked Alex.

"We're going to have to."

Alex looked horrified as dad told us the game plan. "Justin, how's your shoulder doing?"

"I'd rather not use a shotgun for a bit."

"Okay, I'll have to use those then. Open up the backpack." I did as I was told, looking nervously out the window. The zombies surrounding that SUV hadn't noticed us yet, but I wondered how much commotion it would take for just one of them to turn around. And who knew how many more of them gunfire would attract. "Take as much ammo as you can and fill your pockets. Could you pass up the shotgun?" He took both the shotguns from me and slung one of them over his shoulder. "And the ammo." He took the three boxes of shells, and after making sure the guns were fully loaded, dropped them into the large exterior pockets of his parka. My friends and I opened up new hundred round boxes of .22s and poured them into our pockets. Sam looked over at Dad and spoke. "Dad?"

"Yes Sammy?"

"Do you think I should use a gun too?"

He laughed. "No, I don't think so. But Justin will keep an extra good watch over you, won't he", he said looking over at me.

"Of course", I replied.

Dad turned his gaze back to Sam. "And you can take care of Hobbes."

"Alright."

He looked back over the seat, at all of us. "Well, you guys ready?"

"Yeah", we chorused, some of us much more confidently than others. I zipped up the backpack and gave it to Dad. He unbuckled himself, sat at the edge of his seat and put it on, making the shotgun drop off of his shoulder. He put it back on, repositioning it to sit against his chest. "Alright guys. I'm going to go out first, don't come until I tell you. Sam, stick with your brother." He opened the door to the car, stuck his head and the shotgun out, and cautiously looked about.

After he was confident the immediate area was clear, he stepped out and shut the door quietly. I watched as he walked across the road, weaving in between misaligned cars. Although he had never had any military training, he moved like an experienced soldier, his rifle pointed slightly downward and his eyes constantly sweeping. It seemed as though the zombies surrounding the SUV were the only ones around. Then the people inside it noticed him. Their mouths moved quickly as they yelled for help, their cries silenced by the glass. They waved their arms and pointed, but all Dad could do was give them a sincerely apologetic look. Luckily for us, the zombies were far too stupid to appreciate even the most basic gestures, and never looked where the food in the car was pointing.

Dad turned and beckoned for us to come out of the car, and we did so with excessive caution. I turned towards the door, pulled the latch, and slowly pushed it open with my foot while keeping both hands on the rifle. I then moved out of the car and on to one knee, peeking around the door. By this time everyone had met up with dad and were staring at me impatiently. I got up and joined them, feeling thoroughly ridiculous.

We weaved through the bunched up cars and were eventually able to get onto the sidewalk. We walked in a staggered line with dad in front, me behind him, Sam in the middle with the cat box clutched against her chest, Alex behind her and Xiran taking up the rear. I was carrying the scoped .22. No one spoke as we walked through the shade of the overhanging trees. The wind whistled sharply by, freezing our ears and fingers. Sam was the only one out of us who had thought to bring a hat, a Santa Claus one at that. It was too big for her, and its fur rim sagged steadily down over her eyes. Then, Xiran broke the silence. "My house is just around here." Dad stopped and looked back. "Do you think they're going to be there?" I asked.

"Why wouldn't they?" Xiran asked, with some conviction.

"Well, maybe they're at the mall", I responded lamely.

"It's just on the other side of this block", Xiran said to my dad as we neared the first intersection.

As we walked, I realized that the strategies of conventional warfare were almost completely scrapped by the presence of zombies. That isn't to say that a soldier or police officer won't be better off than a civilian; quite the opposite. Weapons training will always be beneficial. But most normal field maneuvers prove to be inefficient, even dangerous. Most urban combat revolves around moving from cover to cover, staying close to walls and moving tight around corners. While this is a great way to protect yourself from armed humans, zombies can't use guns. Or at least, I have never seen them do so. Moving tight around a corner is likely to make you walk face-first into a zombie. You have no idea what's around that corner. This means that you should always try to stay as in the open as possible. The only circumstance in which this is unsuited is if you are trying to go by undetected, which is difficult to do. Even if a zombie is as dumb as a post, they'll find out if there are people around with surprising proficiency.

When we got to Xiran's house, I didn't know what to think. It was an uncommon sight. There were no zombies around, nor were there any around the surrounding houses. Unsurprisingly, they all had large windows. But unlike his neighbors', Xiran's windows were intact. And so was the door. Maybe they weren't at home at all, and they had gotten to the mall without any property damage. Or perhaps they never made it to the mall. The car was still there, and that would explain why Alex's mom hadn't seen them. Nevertheless, we had to investigate.

We walked up the driveway and to the door, as I glanced backwards over my shoulder. It was surprisingly quiet, apart from the faint moaning being carried along by the wind from somewhere out of sight, but dangerously close by. Dad reached out, and tried the door. No luck. "Maybe they're in there", he said unconfidently. He rang the doorbell, and waited. After twenty seconds of nothing, he began to drop his equipment. He placed one shotgun on the ground, un-slinged the other and placed it next to it. He then dropped the backpack onto the small concrete patio. "Stand back..." He backed away from the door, and we backed away from him. He placed his hands behind him and braced himself on one of the wide brick pillars, resting his back against it. Then he slowly raised his leg up to his chest, and snapped it forward. It connected solidly with the doorknob, and the door broke open as splinters of wood flew from the doorframe. He left the backpack on the ground, and picked up the shotgun. Immediately, pounding came from the upstairs, directly above us.

All the lights were on, and in another room a TV played the Chinese news. The layout of the house was somewhat different from mine. Instead of having a semi-circular stairway, the stairs were in two sections with a landing in-between. Dad raised the shotgun, took a step in, and looked around. "Xiran", he said. "Why don't you wait out here and watch the road?"

"Yeah, sure"

"Sam, wait out here with him." Xiran sat on the edge of the patio, and rested the rifle on his knee. Dad then entered the house, Alex and I behind him. The main area lead into various hallways and doorless rooms, all of which we poked our heads and rifles into cautiously into before directing our attention to the stairwell. Dad called out. "Hello?" The pounding upstairs grew louder. He started up the stairs. "Alex, wait down here." He did so without complaint. Dad ascended the staircase, and I followed shortly after him. As we reached the top of the stairs, I saw exactly what I had expected. The doors to the master bedroom were shut, and pulsing with the beating of fists. One rhythm was more powerful than the other, which was weak and inconsistent. I thought of Randy, Xiran's little brother sitting quietly cross-legged next to us on the couch as we played Halo. Then I imagined him on the other side of the door, working with his mother to get through to us. I retired to the main floor, as did Dad.

We passed through the front door, followed by Alex. Xiran sat unmoved from where we had left him, and he looked over at us with grim expectation. "There wasn't anyone there, was there." From the pounding from upstairs, I could tell he knew that there were, but not the people he had hoped for. "No one", Dad replied. Unsatisfied with that answer, he asked how many.

"Only two."

Xiran paused for a bit, expertly suppressing his sadness. "Maybe the others are okay."

"Maybe."