"Go, go, go!" Bill yelled above the clamor, pushing Louis and Ellis ahead of him as he ran for the APC. Coach let off one last burst from his M60 before turning and following, Rochelle and Nick close on his heels.

"Come on, doll," Francis said, turning towards me with fire in his eyes. "This is one ride we don't want to miss."

Without waiting a second longer, I turned and set off at a dead run for the APC's waiting hatch. I pounded across the grass, Francis right behind me, the infected behind us howling like blood-crazed wolves as they closed in.

I wasn't more than ten feet away from the APC when I felt the smoker's tongue twine around my ankle like a cold, slimy bullwhip. With a startled gasp, I was yanked off my feet, landing on my face in the wet grass with enough force to send stars wheeling in my vision and knock my gun out of my hands.

Spitting grass and dirt, I clutched at the ground for purchase, but the rain had turned it slippery. A strong, thick-fingered hand wrapped around my wrist, but that too slid off of my rain-slick skin as I was dragged backwards, and I heard Francis utter a string of virulent curses somewhere above me.

I felt something in my ankle snap as the tongue tightened its grip, and hissed in a breath as pain shot up my leg. Two gunshots rang out, sharp and loud, somewhere close, and the vice-like grip on my ankle went slack.

Gingerly, Francis helped me to my feet and slung one of my arms around his powerful shoulders. Together, we started off towards the waiting APC, my mind lurching with each new shot of pain that stabbed into me as I walked.

"Shit, they're too close," Francis growled, and passed me off to Coach, who was standing by the open door of the APC, laying down covering fire. As the big man helped me into the vehicle, I turned to look back as Francis hefted his prized AA12, the howling swarm bearing down on him. They weren't more than fifteen feet away, and my heart skipped a beat as Francis actually took a step towards them.

Then he opened fire. With a staccato roar, the shotgun in his hands belched flame like a dragon, and I saw the muscles in Francis's arms tense as he absorbed the recoil. The buckshot rounds, fired off at machine-gun speeds, literally tore the oncoming horde apart. Guts sprayed, bones shattered and limbs were ripped from their bodies as, in a matter of seconds, the onrushing horde was reduced to bloody shreds.

"And that," Francis said, dropping the empty magazine as he jogged for the APC, "Is why I love this gun."

I only allowed myself a sigh of relief once we had all seated ourselves on the metal bench seats in the belly of the APC and the hatch had hissed shut. Leaning back against the cold wall and closing my eyes, I tried to ignore the pain in my ankle, but failed as the APC jostled, smacking my foot against the ground and sending daggers of pain up my leg.

Snarling imprecations through clenched teeth, I attracted the attention of both Coach and Francis, seated on either side of me. Coach knelt down in front of me to inspect my leg, and Francis took one of my hands in one of his, brushing a lock of hair out of my face with the other before giving me a quick kiss, the brush of his lips against mine sending shivers of pleasure up my spine.

"Well," Coach said, and I winced as he gently probed my leg, "Don't look broken… jus' cracked. Don't worry, girl, I seen my share of ankle injuries coachin' football."

With hands surprisingly deft for their size and bulk, Coach crafted a makeshift splint for my ankle with materials from his first aid kit, then wrapped it with gauze to hold it in place and stood up, dusting his hands off. "Now you take it easy for a few days, young'un," the big man said, then gave me a quick pat on the thigh before sitting back down on the bench.

Bill stood up with a grunt, stumbling as the APC ran over some obstruction. Walking over to the closed door at the front of the compartment, he rapped twice on it and said "Where we headed, soldier?"

There was a long pause, then a slot in the door slid aside, to reveal a soldier in a gas mask that obscured his face. His voice muffled and warped by the mask he wore, the soldier said "Sir, we're heading to Foxtrot Bunker. Echo and Delta were both overrun, so the military - or what's left of it - has decided to hole up and wait out the storm."

The slot clicked shut, and Bill slid back down onto one of the seats. With something between a sigh and a chuckle, Nick said "See, guys? The whole freakin' world's gone to shit. What did I keep telling you?"

"Y'know, much as I hate Prince Pessimist over there bitching all the time, I'm gonna have to agree with him on this one," Francis said, leaning back against the wall with his hands behind his head. Nick shot him a glare that could scald the paint off a car, but said nothing.

I hadn't realized that I'd fallen asleep until I was jostled awake when the APC ran over a particularly large bump. Lifting my head from Francis's shoulder, I stretched luxuriously, enjoying the safety of the armored hull around us.

Then I noticed that I could hear gunfire outside, muffled by the APC's thick armor. At first I assumed that it was our drivers shooting at zombies, but then I recoiled as the hull resounded with the distinct whip-crack sound of a bullet hitting home.

"What the hell?" Francis growled, turning to look as if he could see something through the metal skin of the vehicle. Through the door in the front of the cabin, I could hear the voice of our driver, speaking into a radio. "Valkyrie Alpha, this is Valkyrie Charlie… do you have a visual on the shooter? Over."

Then the vehicle swerved violently, and someone yelled through the radio "Shit! Vakylrie Alpha's been hit by RPG-fire! All Valkyries, weapons hot! Weapons ho-…"

Then, with a great, rending crash, the world went sideways.

I slowly, groggily became aware that I wasn't dead. With effort, I blinked my sticky eyelids open, revealing a fuzzy, unfocused world. My head felt like it had been hit with a shovel, the splint had come off my ankle - which was throbbing again - and it felt like a few ribs had been cracked. I tried to speak, but all that came out was a pained groan.

Blinking a few times, I put a hand to my face and it came away smeared with blood. I rolled over onto my stomach, and as I painfully pushed myself onto my hands and knees I realized with a jolt that I was kneeling on the APC's ceiling. Coughing a few times, I looked around, spotting all seven of my compatriots lying scattered about. Most of them were slowly returning to consciousness, but Louis and Ellis lay motionless. The slow rising and falling of their chests revealed that they weren't dead, just unconscious, and I blew out a long, relieved breath as I realized that everyone was still alive.

"Zoey?" came Francis's voice, hoarse and tight with pain, from somewhere to my left. "You there, doll?"

Whirling, I crawled over as fast as my bruised limbs would let me, and my heart lurched as I saw the large crimson stain soaking through his muscle shirt. "Don't worry, Francis," I said, taking one of his large, thick-fingered hands in both of mine. "I'm right here."

A smile tugged up at the big man's bloody lips, and he croaked "I'd ask for painkillers, but I don't think they'd help with this. Just… help me sit up, would you, love?"

I did so, taking a firmer hold of his arm and hauling on it. His weight surprised me, but with my help he managed to get into a sitting position. Reaching up, he ran a hand over his scalp, groaning. "What the hell happened?" he said, and I just shook my head, turning around and sitting down next to him. He wrapped a powerful arm around my shoulders and I leaned against him, wincing as I pulled on my damaged ribs.

"Come on, ladies," Bill said, but his voice was strained and raw, just like the rest of us, and I turned to see him standing unsteadily, leaning on the wall for support. "Quit sleeping on the job, we gotta move!"

"Hold yer horses, old man," Francis growled, grabbing his shotgun, planting the stock on the floor and using it to haul himself to his feet. He wobbled a bit, but remained upright. I tried to follow suit, but my ankle screamed in protest and I collapsed again, cursing.

Then I felt strong arms around me, and with a grunt of effort Francis hefted me in his arms bridal-style. I would have complained about the indignity of being carried around, but I was too tired and in too much pain to care.

As Francis walked over to the rest of the group, Bill was rousing Louis, and Nick was trying to get Ellis back on his feet, with limited success. One of the southerner's arms had been broken in the impact, and his legs were unsteady beneath him.

Walking over to the hatch, Coach unlocked it with a grunt of effort - the bolt was bent a bit from the force of the crash - and pushed on the door. When it didn't move, he threw his shoulder against it, with similar results. Setting me down gingerly, Francis murmured "Sit here a moment, babe," and walked over to help Coach with the door.

With the two big, muscular men working together, the resistant hatch was forced open, and Francis retrieved me again. This time I had regained enough energy to grumble a little about it, and Francis grinned down at me as he carried me out into the open air. The sight that met my eyes stunned me.

We were on a mountain road, curving around the side of a comparatively shallow slope. To our left, the land rolled downwards, dotted with pines. And to our right it climbed to a rocky, jagged peak. All around us, APCS and humvees had been strewn about, turned on their sides or just blown up. Some were still on fire, others merely smoldering.

"Who the hell did this?" Louis said groggily, being helped out of the overturned APC by Bill.

"More importantly," Nick said, looking around with something between frustration and fear in his eyes, "What the hell are we gonna do now?"

"Only one thing we can do," Bill said. "Keep going."