I flew over this huge line of cars. It was backed up for miles around, none knowing that just a mile back the ghouls were eating people in there cars. Ironically, the people running away were faster. They got eaten too, eventually.

Corporal John Lewbrowski, United States Air Force

Finally, we were striking back. The zombies took us by surprise, coming out of nowhere, and just eating everyone. Sure, some rebels without a cause (And later without a life) picked up a pipe or something, maybe bent a few cold, dead, fingers, but in the end, they just swelled their ranks.

I guess we had some pride in being the first to strike back, in a real helpful way. By not starving to death, we were proving that the ghouls couldn't kill us, not for awhile. This was almost more of a propaganda mission than a raiding mission, and we treated it like one.

Sheen was going first on the cable. He was lighter and stronger than I was, and he could hold the line for me as I went across. He tucked in his shirt and folded up the bottoms of his jeans. If anything was hanging off, a zombie could grab it and pull him down, so precautionary measures were strict.

I suggested that he bring a pistol. It was lightweight, and as a .44 Magnum, it could easily penetrate a ghoul's head. You could also carry several clips in your pockets or in your shoes. We carried knifes, too. I didn't know what use they would be if we every got into close combat, but at least they were something.

Our main weapons, Sheen's shotgun and my bolt action, would be sent over in a backpack with our ammo, and another, larger one sent for all the food we could collect. I was hoping that we could maybe find an AK-47 or something, but chances were slim, of course.

Sheen was packed and ready; his pistol holstered and clips in his pockets. Jimmy walked over to us, looking nervous. He was sweating profusely, and his eyes scanned the horde of assorted ghouls.

"Okay guys, this is going to be the only thing to help us survive. If we can get this bit of food, it may gain us the three or four days that can be the three or four days we escape. What you're looking for are non-perishables and water. Aim for bread, chips, cheese, cereal, and canned foods, anything that won't spoil quickly. Only get a little fruit and meat, we'll eat it first and save the rest. Get as much water, wine, soda, anything that you can drink as you can manage. Get in, get out, and don't die on me, okay?"

I thought Sheen was going to say some deep philosophical statement, but instead he said something dumb.

"Wait; if we die won't you guys just have fewer mouths to feed? I volunteer Carl then; I bet the zombies would thank us or something!"

Jimmy frowned at him, and turned to me. He grabbed my hand with a steel grip, and dragged me to the shelter.

I guess you couldn't exactly call this thing a "shelter" at all. It was more like a bunch of jackets hanging from the chimney to and upraised stick. The most it could do was keep out the rain and warm us up if we huddled together. But anyways, he dragged me in, and looked at me.

"Hey Cindy… Don't die out there, please? Get Sheen to keep his head… and, well… you're an asset to the group, okay? We need you, really."

He kissed me sheepishly on the cheek and hurried out. I was shocked, really shocked. I touched the place on my cheek where he brushed his lips against my face. After what he'd said yesterday, and on numerous other occasions, I was totally sure he didn't like me, and I thought I didn't like him. I'd have to think about that, after this was through.

Sheen was gripping the line, having already kissed Libby goodbye. He turned around and smiled at me.

"You don't need to repopulate the human race yet Cindy!"

I scowled at him.

"Get going, would you? You'll be sorry when I won't cover you."

He smiled again and got going.

He started out nice, actually. He was maybe 8 feet above them, and he was careful to stay quiet. And then they all looked up at almost the same time, all staring straight at Sheen. One particularly tall man darted his hand upwards, grabbing Sheen's foot.

One of Sheen's hands slipped, and he was left swinging. He screamed and twisted his foot upwards, then downwards, breaking the ghoul's arm, yellowed bone going through his skin. The man disregarded this and continued trying to pull him down.

I dove for my bolt action. It was unloaded; I grabbed a clip from the backpack and pulled back the lever, sticking in the five round clip. I put the zombie's rotted head in my sights, and fired. His head immediately blew up, brains flying everywhere. His grip loosened and he fell to the ground. Sheen regained his grip and continued onwards.

He got out his pistol, aiming for something I couldn't see. He fired once, and a thump was heard. The house was infested. He couldn't hold the line for me, so I had to go on without help.

I grabbed the line, and put my other hand in front. The line immediately drooped close to the horde. I desperately kicked about, hitting several ghouls in the process. I was grabbed too, and screamed. The zombies grip was hard, harder than Jimmy's. It was cold, like iron, and his hand stained my ankle with brown blood. I reached for my knife, and thrust it inside the head of the man. I got it out again, and was almost dragged down myself when the zombie fell. I made my way to Sheen.

He was still fighting off zombies, a pile of 3 already in front of him. He was covered with the brown blood of his victims, his knife in one hand and the pistol in another. He must of known I was there, because he screamed "Cover me!" when he ran out of ammo. I took my .22 Rimfire pistol, able to go into a head and ricochet around, destroying most of the brain. It was great for zombie killing, then.

My first target rushed me. He was foreign, it seemed. In his hand was a weak, Russian manufactured, pistol. He must have died fighting. He had a finger in his mouth, and quickly swallowed it as he dived for me. He was Mr. Kalanklovosh, a foreigner from Ukraine. He housed many of the illegal aliens, and some other legal immigrants, like Bolbi.

I unsheathed my knife as he ran for me. Sheen's pistol was loaded now, and he aimed for the zombies behind me. Several shots rang out, as Jimmy aimed and fired with the rifle before he sent them over. The backpacks slid across the line unmolested, and stopped at the place where the cable met the house.

The ghoul finally got near me, and tackled me. The things were stronger than you would expect a rotting corpse to be. He leaned down to bite me; I punched his face away from me. I thrust my knife upwards into his head, but it didn't reach the brain. He leaned down again, biting off a piece of my jacket. I grabbed his bald head with one hand, thrusting the knife farther upwards with another. He slumped to the ground as rotted brains fell to the ground.

I pulled out my pistol and aimed for the nearest ghoul. She was deeply tan, with her hair pulled up in a bun. She wore what looked like an ancestral dress, with only one slight rip where she had been bit. She must have been bit by one, returned to home with all the other foreigners, and reanimated at home, biting all of them.

I pulled the trigger, placing my sights on her head. My shot rang out, hitting her in the eye and ricocheting inside. The bullet basically destroyed her brain, and she fell to the ground.

"Cindy!" Yelled Sheen to me, holding up my rifle.

I rushed over and grabbed it. It had 3 rounds in the clip left, from when I fired and Jimmy fired. This would be perfect for an ambush, if we could draw some of them over, Sheen could fire a quick volley and we could invade. I would pick off the stragglers in the back.

"Sheen! Call them over here, wait until they're close, and then fire two shot into their heads! I'll advance to the window!"

He nodded and started banging his rifle against the roof and singing. I mean, like hard core Iron Maiden. He was singing The Trooper! Once he got to "You'll fire your musket but I'll run you through" the zombies were all around him. I sneaked up to the window, opened it, and turned back around. I fired a shot into the head of one zombie, making it fall backwards. Sheen fired a shot into the crowd, instantly many of its number fell. He fired another burst into the crowd, killing or immobilizing any zombies in its path. I immediately bashed in the heads of any zombies whose head had been blown off, they were still snapping at us. We pushed their corpses off of the roof, angered moans coming from the zombies crushed by the downpour of bodies.

Once we made sure the roof wasn't infested, we continued through the window into the room.

It was a bedroom, a rather small one that had many cots. Maybe 30 or 40 people passed through everyday, many staying the night. On one of the cots you could here a soft moaning, as if it was a child. I went to the cot to investigate.

I was repulsed. It was a small child, tied down to the bed with a rag stuffed in her mouth. A single bit mark was on her arm, and she was struggling to get free. She must have reanimated while she was there. I had a small cousin, was she caught up in this? Were my parents-perhaps my entire family- walking the Earth as a ghoul?

Sheen walked up, his knife raised high. He had a look of pity on his face, but you could see the gleam in his eyes as he said "Hasta la vista, zombie." And plunged the knife into her frontal lobe. She stopped moaning then, the crazy bastard.

We advanced down the stairs to the kitchen. A man was leaning backwards on the table, a carbine gripped in his hand. Brains were spilled out everywhere, and several zombies with holes in their heads were grouped around him. He had a deep gash on his body; he'd obviously chosen to take the easy way out. I took the carbine away from him, along with a satchel filled with ammo. I took apart the carbine and placed it in the pack. I could take it along, easily.

We looked in the cabinets. We found many cans of corn, peaches, ravioli, and various other foods. We grabbed all of them. In another cabinet was several loafs of large, French bread, along with regular sliced white bread. We put all of them inside the backpack too, taking them apart to save room.

Inside the fridge were several lunchmeats and fruits. We put the lunchmeat in our pockets, and a few pieces of fruit in the satchel. There was water, lots of water. They were all in large packs, so we took out the water and stuffed them in the backpack. We had tons of food.

I raided the drawers for medical supplies. All I could find was some bandages and a rudimentary first aid kit. I stuck both in the satchel. Now, we were ready to leave with the huge cache of food we collected.

We went back out the window, put our main weapons inside the second backpack, and sent them both flying to Jimmy. He had been waiting and watching for the 45 minutes we had been in there, and he looked relieved to finally see us.

I sent the satchel over when we first began to see several zombies come out of the windows. Down below, zombies were shuffling into the house. They had discovered us, and were now packing the house, trying to get a bite out of us.

"Sheen! Go!"

He handed me his pistol and started to the house.

I fired the .22 at the first zombie that advanced through the window. She fell dead, back into the crowd. I shot the .44 into the next ghoul, blowing off its head. I fired twice more into the crowd, and now Jimmy and Sheen were picking off the monsters on the other side. I stuck the .44 in the holster, the .22 in my pocket. The line was swaying, both from the wind and from the hundreds of zombies shaking the line. I was almost swung upside down, but I steadied myself and swayed slightly to the left. I was close to the house, but I was only hanging on by the tips of my fingers. I felt myself slip, and my hands gripping at air.

This is it.

I then felt the reassuring grip of Jimmy, and found I was on the roof. I opened my eyes, and looked at Jimmy.

"Did we do it?"

He smiled and said

"Of course."

I was almost sure I loved him now.

A/N: Sorry for not updating much lately, I was caught up in the Festivus stupor. I'm sure I'm forgiven with this long, exciting chapter. Or at least you better be, you vultures. Oh, and I'd like to thank acosta, for the whole "Hasta la vista, zombie!" line. Brilliant!