EXT. FORT FREEDOM – NIGHT

We lovingly called our transport "The Tank", mostly for its ability to drive through a horde with little trouble. It really had no firing mechanism of its own, though, so we installed our own mounted machine guns over the course of a weekend.

It also came equipped with a huge amount of storage space. We used this for ammo, first aid, food, and pain pills. Mostly ammo, though.

With our transport, we could survive for weeks on our own. It was like a mobile base.

No substitute for a real one, unfortunately. In Fort Freedom, we had survived for nearly a month, and it was estimated we could last another year and a half with the supplies we have now.

We have so much because before the apocalypse, it was a huge military training ground, holding at least two thousand people, and planned to keep them self-contained for a month. Now there are twenty of us, fifteen who came to the base after about two weeks. Jeff and I were two of the original five. Simon, Greg, and the Sarge all came with the second group. Sarge, realizing he was the highest ranking officer alive, took immediate charge.

First order of business: Set up every method of communication that we can. Early on, a radio jamming sequence was sent out, courtesy of Dr. Sleighter, that jammed all radios into a U.S. army loop, and set them all to our channel. If anyone found any working radio with in a fifty-mile radius, they could call us. This was our first.

So, here we were, speeding off in our own private little Tank, off to play the big hero and rescue the damsel in distress. And the first few hours, we loved every second of it.

Simon drove. Simon always drives. I don't envy him. Up here, on the top with our three mounted turrets, it's just pure fun.

We hadn't seen any zombies for a while. Jeff, from his seat up on the front roof, turned away from his minigun and leaned against it, letting the wind fly through his hair. "So," he lamented thoughtfully, "you guys know any nice places to eat?"

"Jeff," I said, "we're in the middle of a forest."

"Yeah, and even if there was one, I bet the service is terrible," laughed Greg.

"Oh, I know! The waiters would just scream unintelligible shit at you and then try to beat your face in."

"Maybe they should try hiring actual people instead of zombies."

"Hell, zombies are cheaper. They work for brains."

"And they don't demand health care or dental shit or all that!"

"But they're pretty much unionized."
" Ha! 'Hey, these working conditions are unfair. You wanna go on strike?' "

" 'No, that's too organized. Let's beat the manager until he stops moving!' "

We all laughed heartily.

Then the truck ran over a boomer.

Jeff got slime in his eyes. "Ah, shit-" he stuttered, and then the horde came in. Greg and I fired our miniguns from the back, but the guns couldn't reach in places where Jeff's could from his position, and he couldn't see a thing.

Thinking fast, I grabbed an assault rifle, abandoned my turret, climbed up to Jeff's turret, and unloaded several clips into the horde until he was able to wipe the goop out of his eyes. I hopped back, grabbed a blinker, and tossed it far away from the vehicle. As the horde cleared away to follow it, we breathed a sigh of relief.

"That actually went pretty well," Greg commented.

"Sorry, Marsh, that was my fault. I should've been paying attention."

"Hey, it was a chance to demonstrate my awesomeness. Does this mean the fifty bucks I owe you is off?"

"Hell no. You got it with you?"

"Sorry, mate, gonna have to wait 'til we get back."

"Damn."

"Sucks to be you."

"You know what also sucks?"

"What?"

"It's the end of the world...as we know it."

My eyes lit up. " It's the…end of the world as we know it! "

Greg joined in. " It's the…end of the world as we know it! "

All three of us sang out, " And IIII FEEEL FIIIINE! "

Jeff launched into a verse: " Six o'clock, TV Hour, don't get caught in a foreign tower, slash and burn, return, listen to yourself churn, lock him in uniform and book burning, bloodletting, every motive escalate, automotive incinerate, light a candle, light a motive, step down, step down, watch a heel crush, crush, uh-oh, this means no fear, cavalier, renegade and steer clear, a tournament, a tournament, a tournament of lies, offer me solutions, offer me alternatives, and I decline IT'S THE END OF THE WORLD AS WE KNOW IT! "

Greg stared in awe. "How'd you remember all that?"

"I'm just gifted." He continued, "It's the…end of the world as we HOLY SHIT A TANK."

We all looked backwards and saw it racing towards us as fast as its arms could fling it.

I grabbed a grenade. "We gonna fire-bomb him?"

"Hell yeah."

I tossed it, a perfect throw, hitting the tank square in the face. A pillar of fire erupted around it. The Tank emerged from the flames and kept on running towards us. We fired no guns. After a few moments its legs gave way and it collapsed, dying, onto the road.

"That was easy," Greg noted.

"Yeah. We can thank Dr. Sleighter for the grenade," Jeff responded.

"How many of 'em we got?"

"Enough."

"That's good."

"Yep."

"So…what is it, exactly?"

"It's an incendiary grenade. Instead of exploding, it bursts into a pillar of fire and burns everything in its blast radius to death."

"Why doesn't it just explode?"

"Because I've seen Tanks survive that. Being on fire, now that can kill it."

"I hate Tanks."

"We all do."

There was an awkward silence. Suddenly Dr. Sleighter poked his head out of the man-hole connecting the inside of the truck to the roof. "Simon says it's time for a shift change." We all laughed. Sleighter looked confused. "What is it?"

"It's just, it sounds like a game," I explained. "Simon says touch your toes!"

We all laughed. I could just hear from inside the truck, "Hey, fuck you!"

Jeff looked around. "Alright, so who wants to drive for the next hour?"

"I'll do it," sighed Greg. He climbed down the manhole. After a moment of shuffling, out came Simon. He took Greg's spot.

I leaned back, enjoying the moonlight that occasionally peeked through the tree-tops. I relaxed my muscles. I could get used to this, I thought to myself.

EXT. BASKETBALL COURT – DAY

I dribbled the ball expertly, deking out three of the other team's players. I shot for the net, missed. They picked it up. Coach called a time-out.

He called me over. As soon as I sat down on the bench beside him, he started talking strategies and manoeuvres. After a while he looked me in the eye and said, "All this relies on one thing: Your actually passing to your teammates for once. You've been hogging the ball for too long, and I want to see some teamwork here."

The game resumed. The other team went for the net, but I easily blocked it. Recovering the ball, I headed to the other side of the court. Then I remembered the coach's words. I saw a guy on my team who was wide open. I tossed the ball lightly to him.

The basketball picked up speed mid-air, and then burst into flames. My teammate didn't have a chance. The fire became a flaming demon and sunk its teeth around him. When it was finished, it burned and ate everything else around it, every single person in the court, save for me.

Eventually the flaming monster looked at me, and its disfigured mouth curved into a hideous smile. It pounced.

I woke up. I wasn't on a demon-ravaged basketball court, I was still on the back of the truck. It had stopped. Jeff, Simon, and Greg were all staring at me.

"Who's driving?" I enquired, still groggy from sleep.

"No one. It was getting hard to concentrate with all your screaming."

I grimaced and rolled over. Not these goddamned dreams again… I sat up suddenly. "Wait…why isn't Dr. Sleighter driving? He's deaf, isn't he?"

"He doesn't know how to drive. Sure, develop a hand-held fire bomb, but drive a car? Geez, that's too hard for a little old scientist like him."