Madison, Wisconsin. Which shit head's bright idea was it to try and salvage an entire shopping center, near what had to be one of the most populated cities in the state? It would most likely take almost all of what was left of the ammunition stock. Cameron wished more people had backed out, so that he wouldn't feel bad about doing so either.
Hell, even if only Horace had refused to go, then Cameron would've been right behind him. It was only made worse by the fact that Becky was right there next to Cameron hearing the insane plan. But then again with a population nearing two hundred fifty, such a risk might just be worth it.
But of course the military leaders could be using this as an opportunity to see if a trip to Monroe's National Guard armory was feasible.
"Be careful," Marge told Cameron, giving him a back breaking hug. "Now more than ever." She knew the danger that was at hand, too—and if she was scared, then there was definitely trouble at hand.
"I will be," Cameron reassured her.
"And are you sure that Becky should be going?" she asked him, lowering her voice. "She's still a rookie."
"I know," he said, concerned. "But she won't listen to me."
"Bye, Uncle Cam."
"See ya, Jack." Cameron picked up the kid to give him a good hug.
"So long, Marge," Dennis said hopefully, walking up to their small group.
"Bye," Marge replied. She appeared to be in thought, then said, "Tell you what: bring back a beer for me, and we'll have a drink."
"Deal!" Dennis agreed enthusiastically.
A whistle blew signaling everybody to get on board the trucks. Cameron, Horace, and Becky all boarded Delta. A new one, Echo, was added to the roster. Inside each truck as even more ammunition than usual, as well as extra rations. It was not going to be a fun venture.
Over two hours they spent in the back of that truck. Taking the main roads would've cut a half hour from the trip, but that obviously wasn't possible. Cameron saw that almost everybody was even tenser than that first trip to the super market. He didn't blame them, since he was the same.
All too soon, there was banging growling coming from the outside, which made him want to vomit—one person actually did. The trucks did the familiar shifting move as they got into formation to make a large circle. And when the truck's engine noises ceased, that was the cue for everyone to climb up the rope ladder.
The stench was overwhelming when Cameron climbed through hatch to the roof of the truck. All around him was the largest sea of the undead yet. Up ahead was a Target, along with other surrounding shops.
"Fuck me," Cameron hissed, cocking his gun. He began, as usual, with the zombies stuck in the middle of the trucks.
"Cam," Becky said, sounding frightened.
"We'll get through this, just shoot," Cameron told her, picking off zombies. She should be fine. After all, to qualify you had to shoot a zombie and a child zombie.
"But I'm scared!"
Cameron stopped his shooting to look over at her. He wasn't angry, he understood. If being stuck in that house for a month, surrounded by a dozen or so zombies, was terrifying, then the current situation was worse. And if that wasn't bad enough more and more of them were pouring in from the surrounding area.
"If you can't, then just hand me your rifle, and go back down. We aren't leaving until all these things are dead."
Becky looked to be seriously considering that option, but she firmed up and pointed her rifle down. Her shots were a bit off, but for the most part she was getting the job done.
"I'll be right here," Cameron reassured her, going back to the killing.
The fact that the trucks were being rocked back and forth was making things even worse for everyone on Alpha through Echo. People were losing their nerve, having to go down the trucks to take a breather; a few were begging the people in charge to abandon the mission.
But even Cameron knew that that was not going to happen. Abandon the plan now, and risk thousands of zombies following them back to Yuba.
For hours, hours upon hours, they were perched in the middle of that sea of undead. What was normally at worst a six-hour killing spree was dragging on. After ten hours it didn't even look they made a dent. Though twice the trucks had to be moved to a new spot when the zombies were piling up.
Around sundown a bunch of people disembarked from the trucks to the cleared area in the middle. They moved all of the corpses to one side, and made an area for people to catch some rest in. Also, lights were set up to illuminate the area to make the zombie killing easier as it got dark.
Around ten at night, Cameron got the sign to take a break. He traversed down the rope ladder, grabbed a snack, and lied down. Soon enough Becky crawled up next to him, and they were napping despite the constant sound of gunfire and zombie moans.
An hour and a half later they were woken up and told to get back to work. Slapping himself awake, Cameron got back up on top of the truck, reloaded his rifle, and went back to shooting.
When the sun rose the trucks had been moved three more times. Cameron was tired as hell, and he had to take more breaks.
At eight in the morning the things finally started thinning out. Only a few were appearing at a time now, so only twenty of the freshest possible people were keeping an eye out, while the rest had some R&R before it was time to enter the Target.
After two hours four of the trucks were lined up in front of the Target, while Bravo took survivor duty. Their hopes weren't high to find living people, but they had to try. Charlie and Echo stood watch outside, and Delta and Alpha prepared themselves to enter the store.
Cameron taped a flashlight to the underside of his rifle, and paired off with Becky and Horace as they stood in front of shattered glass doors—which were shot through the previous day to let out the zombies. Before anybody went in, a few fired their rifles wildly into the store.
That caught the attention of the remaining zombie within, and Cameron was ready as the things ran forward and were put down. Another minute and the signal was given for everyone to move forward.
"How can you stand this, Cam?" Becky asked, visibly shaking.
"I can't," he responded. "I just do it." He switched on his flashlight, and swept kept sweeping left and right. Behind him Horace and Becky covered the rear and sides.
From one of the aisles, Cameron spotted a zombie without legs crawl. As soon as it spotted them, it let out the usual howl and hastily crawled in their direction. Cameron took it out with no problem.
Before them on the wall to their left was a big, red door. Horace was able to turn the knob, but something was blocking the way on the other side.
"Hello?" he called, banging on the door. "Is anyone in there? It's safe now." There was no answer, and they couldn't just leave it unopened with the possibility of supplies being inside. So, Cameron and Horace put all their weight against the door, while Becky was ready to shoot any zombie that might attack.
Slowly, inch-by-inch, they managed to open it half way through and no monster tried to eat them. And the farther they got the door open, a stench emanating from inside got worse. Pointing his rifle/flashlight inside, Cameron stepped in. It was a storeroom, and on the floor were two people. One looked to be older than the other, and both of them were wearing the normal red Target shirt. The door had been blocked by one of the heavy shelves. Dropping his guard, Cameron ran in and checked each body for a pulse. It was faint but still there.
"Wake up," Cameron said loudly. "Hey! C'mon, we're getting you outta here."
The man stirred weakly, and eventually so did the other. Looking around, Cameron saw the floor was littered with wrappers, and in the corner was a pile of waste. They must've been feeding on nothing but the junk food available to them in the storeroom the entire time while breathing in that stench. Yeah, it was far from the healthiest living conditions, but at least they were alive.
"Let's go," Horace said, taking the younger one by the arm and hauling him up.
Cameron and Becky helped the older one up, and the three of them helped move the survivors back outside to the trucks. Cameron reached for the radio he hooked onto his pants so that he could call in the survivors. But before he had the chance the radio crackled.
"ALERT! ALERT!" the person on the other side shouted frantically, the sounds of gunfire in the background. "Oh fuck! We've got a shit load of infected approaching! Repeat! A shit load of infected are incoming! Get your asses back here!"
Son of a bitch, Cameron thought in despair.