"Ho ho, shit!" Louis yelled, punching the air. "You see that? Army helicopters! Big birds like that ain't gonna fly far on the amount of gas to be had around here, and that means they still got a safe zone somewhere nearby!"

Francis glowered at the horizon where the helicopters disappeared, folding his powerful arms over his chest. "You see what was stenciled onto their sides, Louis?" he growled, and the thin black man turned to look at him, narrowing his eyes in confusion.

"No, Francis," he said, arms akimbo, "I was a bit busy diving for cover."

"They all had 'PURGE' written on 'em, same as the jeep in that piece of shit 'safe zone'," Francis said, brows drawing down even further. "Now, I don't know what the hell 'PURGE' means, but it sure as shit gives me bad feelings. I don't want to charge in blindly, waving our arms and shouting 'Hey! Survivors here!' only to get gunned down."

Louis snorted. "Come on man, they ain't gonna shoot us. The army's job is to protect people!"

"In case you hadn't noticed, Mister Positive," Francis snarled, taking a step towards the younger man, "We're in the middle of a zombie apocalypse! The rulebook has gone out the window, and I seriously doubt Good Samaritan Joe would have any compunctions about shooting you if he thought you might turn into a zombie or steal his shit! And besides - for all we know, these 'PURGE' assholes might not even be with the army! They could be just a bunch of whackjobs who stole some fancy gear from a base somewhere!"

Louis held up his hands in a placating gesture, and said "Whoa there, man. I know it sounds crazy, but I got a good feelin' about this! Something's gotta break our way sometime! Look, you really think that a bunch of civilians could find one guy who knows how to fly a helicopter like that, let alone three?"

Francis growled wordlessly, taking a few steps toward the riverbank, kicking up frigid water with each step. "Hey man, look," Louis said, jogging to catch up with the big biker and putting a hand on his shoulder. "Let's just go take a look, okay? Shit starts goin' down, we high-tail it outta there. Deal?"

Looking over at his compatriot, Francis heaved a sigh and muttered "Deal."

-O-

"Holy shit," I breathed as we crested the hill. The bridge that had crossed the river ahead of us continued as a road for about fifty yards, then ended in a ten-foot concrete wall, topped with razor-wire. A reinforced chain-link gate blocked the gap in the wall that the road passed through, and the baleful eye of a searchlight swept the area.

"Well, that sure as hell doesn't look inviting," Bill muttered, narrowing his eyes at the imposing concrete barrier. It was maybe a few hundred yards across, then turned at right angles and went back away from us. I couldn't see it, but I assumed there was a fourth wall at the other end, forming a box.

"Think about it, guys," Louis said, starting towards the wall. "Everybody needs a wall to keep out zombies, right?"

"I'm not sure…" I said, taking a firmer hold on my pistol. "It does look a bit… menacing."

Louis waved this comment away, and kept walking, ignoring Francis's low warning growl. The big biker took a step forward, but I put a placating hand on his arm, and whispered "Leave it," when he gave me a surprised glance. Francis shrugged, and muttered "Whatever."

-O-

"Hey!" Louis yelled, cupping his hands to his mouth. "There's survivors out here! We're not infected! Let us in!"

"Might as well paint some goddamn bull's-eyes on our foreheads and be done with it," Francis muttered darkly, earning a glare from Bill. "Son, we don't have a lot of options, so unless you feel like walking another five miles along that riverbed, shut up," the 'Nam vet shot back, and Francis fell into a sulky silence. Bill was obviously right - we were running out of options.

In a matter of seconds, the searchlight that swept the area had locked onto us, and I flinched, shielding my eyes from the harsh glare. A warning klaxon started blaring, and Francis threw up his hands in disgust. "See, Louis! What the hell did I tell-…"

He was, however, cut off by the roar of an engine as a black humvee roared up on the other side of the gate, its hood and side doors bearing the word 'PURGE' stenciled on them in red, just like the humvee back at the abandoned safe zone. The lethal muzzle of an M60 swept our group from the turret mount atop the imposing vehicle, although I couldn't see who was manning the gun, as they were silhouetted in the searchlight's glare. A cold, powerful man's voice, amplified by a loudspeaker, boomed out towards us. "Identify yourselves immediately, or you will be shot!"

Bill, as the ad-hoc leader of the group, stepped forward. Clearing his throat, he snapped into an only slightly lopsided parade rest, and barked in his best army voice "Sergeant William Overbeck, sir! These are my companions, Francis, Zoey and Louis, all civilians from Pennsylvania! We seek shelter in your camp, sir!"

The searchlight dimmed, and the passenger door of the humvee popped open. Out of the vehicle slid a tall man in black military fatigues, his jacket bearing the word 'PURGE' on the left side of his chest. He wore a military-style ballcap tilted at a slight angle on his head, and a gas mask hid his face from view.

Walking up to the gate, the man clasped his arms behind his back and stood with his feet apart, shoulders straight and chest out, raking our group with his gaze. "Sergeant Overbeck," he said, voice weirdly muffled and distorted by the gasmask, his gaze stopping on Bill, "This is not a refugee camp. You have stumbled upon the headquarters of PURGE. We are dedicated to expunging the taint that-…" He paused, his eyes narrowing. "You're not wearing gas masks," he said, voice gone low and sharp. "Are you…?"

"We're immune, yes," Bill said, nodding authoritatively, then added as an afterthought "Sir."

The other soldier's face contorted into a snarl of rage, and he hissed "Carriers." Turning on his heel, he took two long strides towards the humvee and snarled "Johnson - take them."

-O-

Bill reacted first, leaping to the side surprisingly fast for a man of his age, grabbing me around the waist and taking me with him. As I fell, I saw Francis grab Louis and hurl him out of harm's way, then dive after him as the M60 mounted atop the humvee burst into life.

With a chattering roar, the muzzle of the huge weapon spat flame, and the ground around the gate exploded, the impacts of high-caliber bullets tearing huge gouts of dirt and grass from the earth. I crawled further behind the shelter of the concrete wall on my hands and knees, heart thudding against my ribcage, mind reeling. Not ten seconds ago, things had been looking up, and now we were being shot at by the very people who we thought were going to save us.

Turning as I reached relative safety, I saw Francis and Louis huddled on the other side of the gate, both thankfully uninjured. A storm of bullets tore at the ground between us, and I ached to see the look of panic in Francis's eyes as he stared at me across that lethal barrier.

"Zoey, come on!" Bill yelled, tugging at my arm and trying to haul me to my feet. "We gotta move! We'll meet up with them once we get to safety!" Struggling to my feet, I shot one last, terrified glance over my shoulder, then grimly swallowed my fear and took off after Bill.

I heard the howl of helicopter engines, and icy weights wrapped themselves around my heart. There was no way we could get away from attack helicopters on foot. The ground blurred beneath my pounding feet, and I fumbled with the slide on my pistol as I ran. It was silly, really - a Colt .45 wasn't going to do much against a helicopter - but I wasn't about to lay down and die without putting up a fight.

My eye was caught by a small culvert in the base of the wall, and I yelled "Bill!" He turned to look, and I wordlessly pointed. The old vet followed my pointing finger, then his eyes narrowed in thought. After a bare second, he nodded, and started towards the culvert at a run.

I skidded to a halt next to the low opening, and I began to have my doubts about whether or not this was actually a good idea. The arched culvert seemed smaller up close, and a flicker of doubt slithered through my mind. Would I really be able to fit in there?

Then my jaw set. I would have to fit. Getting down on my hands and knees, I half-crawled, half-slid into the opening, having to press myself low to the ground to fit under the arch. Frigid, muddy water that smelled faintly of sewage sucked at my hands, arms and legs as I slithered deeper into the culvert, and I heard Bill cursing under his breath as he followed me. The whine of the helicopter engines suddenly intensified, and I tried not to breathe as a searchlight swept the ground outside.

I could feel Bill pressed tightly against me, trying to squeeze further away from the helicopters outside, but I could go no farther - I was pressed up against a rusty, slick metal grate, my shoulder beginning to ache from the cramped position. My heart felt like it was about to explode from my chest, and I thought it a miracle that the soldiers outside couldn't hear it hammering away within my chest.

After what felt like an eternity, the engines moved off, the searchlight vanished, and I let out the breath I'd been holding. I could hear Bill heave a sigh from behind me, and he said "That was too damn close. Much as I hate to give him credit for anything, looks like Francis was right for once." I giggled nervously, then took a deep breath to steady myself. My hands were shaking so badly that they were making little splashes in the muck that I lay in, and I clenched them into fists to try and stop them jittering.

After a minute or so, Bill said "Should be safe by now. We gotta get out of here, regroup with Francis and Louis, and keep moving. Find this 'immune city' we heard about, if it even exists."

Taking another deep, long breath, I finally nodded and, having managed to get my voice under control, said "Yeah. Lead the way, Bill."