Author Note: I know it's a terribly short chapter that did not quite deal with the incident as well as I would have liked, but I am dog tired and half asleep. Nevertheless, I wanted to get another chapter up, and I figure for a scene like this, short and straight to the point is better. The issue of her having actually used a gun will be addressed in the next chapter.

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A Year Later

"Shit!"

Carlos hissed viciously as he fought to reload his gun after his machine gun had emptied out. He dropped the clip, his heart racing like a rabbit caught in a hunter's trap, only the tables had turned. The animals were the ones to be feared now, rather than the humans. His breath came fast and dry, clumsy from surprise and adrenaline. He was not normally so disassociated with his limbs, but the undead had caught them by surprise. They had been camped in the abandoned cattle fields for a day and a half with no sign of lie around them for miles. All had been foolish enough to become relaxed, and there had even been the occasional laughter from the convoy. Most had figured that surely the undead would have come long before them if here were coming to make their sick crawling, groaning, rotting way to the camp. How very wrong they had all been.

One of the undead made it's slow but determined way towards Carlos, and he gave up fumbling with the gun for a moment to pull out a small knife and lunge forward, making quick business of stabbing into the creature's spinal cord, demobilizing it. Desperate for the comfort of the deadly weapon that had saved his life on more than one occasion, he dodged forward to reach the gun, taking it up once more and filling the bullet void with calm surety now. Something about killing the firs undead of each battle always calmed him, reminding him that he had the skills and ability to save himself and others. Self doubt had always rang painfully in his head at the beginning of every struggle for the convoy's life among these undead nightmares.

Screams sounded around him as the larger pack of the undead made their way closer to the convoy behind a few that had been farther ahead, and the expected shouts and bangs of guns being fired by the defenders of the group resounded comfortingly. Who would have thought, five years ago, that the sound of guns would be a welcomed sound?

Carlos took aim at the closest of the undead and opened fire wit pleasure, evacuating clip after clip of his gun, never wasting a single bullet. After what must have been twenty minutes at least of unceasing fire-power being exploded upon the terrifying remnants of humans, silence came quite suddenly. They had nailed ever single-

Carlos's heart leapt into his throat as a heard a very familiar scream coming from the yellow SUV. Without hesitation or thought, he wheeled about and raced for the truck that held a screaming K-Mart. Somehow, a single undead had managed to push past their line of bullets without notice, and was now clawing at K-Mart's jean-clad leg as she kicked wildly. Carlos opened ire upon the creature's back, but it did little to stop the blood-thirsty undead. He took aim for the creature's bobbing head, but it lay directly before K-Mart's heaving chest. Should he miss…

"K-Mart!" he cried out to catch her attention and unsheathed his 50 caliber, throwing it into the car as he came closer to the truck.

His heart froze as he watched her fumble to get a hold of the bouncing gun while continuing to kick the creature away. Carlos had a strong distance when he threw something, but his legs could only carry him so quickly. He could only hope K-Mart managed to-

A loud bang sounded, and a bloody mess of brain, bone, and tissue exploded upon the car. The body of the undead lay limp and lifeless, while K-Mart huddled against the opposite car door, her breath coming in whimpering gasps, tears streaming down her cheeks. Carlos pushed himself the last fifteen feet to the bloody vehicle, jogging to the other side and opening the door, catching the sobbing girl in his arms as she fell willingly against him.

Carlos sunk to the ground against one of the car wheels, rocking the thirteen year old girl back and forth, and his callused hand holding her head to his chest to absorb the wracking sobs of her body. He murmured to her in a slow, low voice, though his heart still raced with the near loss of his little sister. Admittedly, the calm murmurs were more for himself than for the girl, but it seemed to calm her enough that she now only sniffled as Claire, LJ, and Mikey made their way over to the hugging pair. Carlos glared with seething anger at the group, knowing that he was hating them for all the wrong reasons. He wanted to blame someone for her close-call, be able to shout someone's head off for allowing an undead to slip past. But there was no one to place the blame upon. Who knew how that thing had made its way past the barrier of firing guns? The fact of the matter was that the girl was safe.

That was the only fact that comforted him.