The boathouse was a small two story building overlooking the lake. The city glowed on the far side of the lake, half the city hidden behind billowing smoke from multiple raging fires. It was almost beautiful if it hadn't been a city full of death and destruction.

Securing the house didn't take long. The SWAT officers cleaned up by dragged the bodies outside and dumping them in the lake. Dennis and the rest of the cops started looking around. The powerlines to the boathouse had been knocked out, but a generator outside powered the whole house. A few cans of fuel found inside the house were enough to easily fill the tank with some left over. Coleman told Dennis the house was owned by the Patterson family. An upper-middle class family who wanted a vacation house on the lake. They never used it and, neglected for years, the house had begun to fall apart. The place was popular with drifters and the homeless. Some locals, unable to contact the owners, took it upon themselves to fix it up so it was at least inhabitable. Aside from some basic furnishings, the place was bare.

Dennis did his best to avoid Kate as much as he could. Her glare was unnerving and she did so every time she saw him. The cops kept regular patrols around the area, picking off infected as they drifted around the forest. Sergeant Felix and Sheriff Michael had been discussing fortifications and called Dennis and some of the SWAT officers together.

"We're going to send you back to the police station with one of the vans to pick up some weapons and ammo," Michael told the group. "We'll fortify this place while you're gone. Dennis, fetch Tim. He has a set of keys to the armoury."

Dennis nodded and went to find Coleman. Looking at his watch, it was just after nine. It had gotten cold outside and a light mist had begun to roll in. He found Coleman at the end of the pier and started walking up the creaky wooden structure towards him.

"Tim!" Dennis shouted, still a good distance from him. "We're making a trip back to the station to pick up some guns. Michael said you had the keys?"

Deputy Coleman didn't answer; he just stood and watched the horizon. Dennis caught up and stood next to him, looking at the burning city in the distance, slowing disappearing behind the approaching fog. Coleman was lost in thought and Dennis was unsure what to say. After a few silent minutes, Coleman finally spoke up.

"It's amazing how quickly everything goes to shit, isn't it Dennis?"

Dennis hesitated, a little taken aback by the question. Coleman turned to look at him, his eyes looked sad.

"You know we're all going to die right?" Coleman said with no emotion in his voice.

"There… there's always that chance," Dennis stuttered, unsure what to say. "We have to at least try, right?"

Coleman turned back to look over the lake.

"I suppose," he whispered. Then suddenly, with a burst of energy that surprised Dennis, Coleman snapped out of his daze. "Alright then! Let's get going," he said as he started striding back down the pier.

Dennis quickly followed behind him, struggling to keep up with the tall man's pace.

The drive back to the station was mostly uneventful. A SWAT officer drove the van while Deputy Coleman rode shotgun and Dennis rode in the back with another SWAT. Dennis couldn't see what was going on outside the windowless van, but Coleman would fire his assault rifle periodically. Not being able to see outside made the ride seem long, also because they kept their speed low to avoid the debris on the road. He started chatting to his partner in the back.

"So… you came from the city?" he asked cautiously.

Much to his surprise, a soft female voice answered back.

"I was based in the city, yes."

"What happened up there?"

"Shit happened."

Dennis was a little unsure what to say next. "So where were you when this started?"

"I was posted at one of the first checkpoints, you know, for monitoring people who might be infected and putting them into quarantine," she paused. "Then the quarantine area got overrun."

The van lurched violently, throwing both of them off their seats.

"Sorry about that!" the driver called. "There's crap all over the road."

"So," she continued, righting herself. "There were too many and we had to fall back to the next checkpoint. Then the next checkpoint fell, and the next. Then the mutant variety turned up and wiped out most of what was left."

"Shit," Dennis muttered. "So how far is this thing spread?"

She tilted her head quizzically. "You haven't heard? It's all over the north-west with a few pockets appearing in the south."

"Can't we just go to the nearest city that isn't infected? I heard they quarantined Manhattan Island."

"You have to be shitting me."

Dennis gave her mixed look of confusion and anger.

"There are no cities left," she said coolly.

They spent the rest of the trip in silence. Dennis felt a wave of exhaustion, as if he realised that perhaps Coleman had been right. Was there no hope left for them?

They finally arrived at the police station and they drove the van into the garage. Coleman opened the rear doors for them, beaming widely. Dennis figured he was putting it on, but he was happy to see a smiling face.

"Come along you two. I've got something awesome to show you," Coleman said cheerily.

All four of them were walking through the police station, following Coleman to the armoury. They were led to an innocent looking door, which needed to be unlocked. Behind the door was a small room not much bigger than a closet, with a much tougher looking door on the far side. Putting the key in the lock, Coleman turned to the others.

"Prepare for movie magic," he said with a smile.

He pushed the door open and the room beyond was indeed a sight out of a movie. The room was lined with rack after rack of weapons and boxes of ammunition. There were enough weapons to supply a small army, but Dennis supposed that was the point. The four of them entered the room and began looking over each rack, marvelling at its contents. Dennis didn't really know his weapons that well, but he could pick out most of them from movies he had seen. There were military grade sniper rifles, assault rifles, shotguns and grenades. The most amazing sight was the three miniguns mounted at the back of the room; Coleman caught Dennis admiring them.

"They're sweet as aren't they?"

"Holy shit," Dennis exclaimed. "How did you get these?"

"Ex-military gear," Coleman stated. "These used to be mounted on armoured vehicles, but when those vehicles get decommissioned, they strip it of all military hardware and sell them as civilian vehicles. These came off a couple of troop transports if I remember correctly."

Dennis saw a small paper book sitting on a box of ammo labelled as '7.62x51mm rounds'. It was the manual for the minigun. Coleman smiled when he saw Dennis pick up the manual.

"That one is some good reading," he chuckled.

"I assume we're going to take one of these?" Dennis asked, putting the manual in his pocket.

Coleman shrugged. "I don't see why not. I've wanted to bust one of these out for a while."

The next few hours were spent loading the van with an assortment of weapons, including the minigun, which took two of them to carry. They also loaded a dozen boxes of ammunition as well as containers of food and some of the jugs of water. Dennis wiped his brow with his sleeve as he loaded the last box of food into the van.

"That's the last one," Dennis called out to Coleman who was in the front of the van with the other SWAT officer.

"Great! Go tell that gal that we're ready to head off. I think she went to the restroom," Coleman called back.

Dennis went back inside the station and looked around. It was eerily quiet with nobody here; just the hum of the fluoro lights. He was just approaching the ladies restroom when the door opened and the female swat officer appeared.

"Hey, there you are. We're ready to go."

She nodded and followed Dennis to the van where they both got in their seats in the back with the massive pile of equipment sitting next to them.

"Just don't throw the van around too much," Dennis called. "It's pretty tight back here and I don't want to get hit in the face with a grenade."

He heard a couple of chuckles from the front of the van, before they were drowned out by the van's engine roaring to life.

Dennis sat back in the seat, trying to ignore the rattling coming from the pile of potentially explosive weapons as they bounced around inside their containers. He closed his eyes, slipping into a very light sleep. It was difficult to sleep for more than a few minutes at a time. Every blast from Coleman's rifle, every time the van bounced over a pothole and every unsettling movement within the weapon pile snapped Dennis awake. It was beginning to give him a sore neck. He looked over at the SWAT officer sitting across from him, it was then he noticed the strands of long blonde hair hanging scattered from her helmet. He tried to observe her face through the visor, but it was dark in the van and he couldn't make it out. He felt nervous, as if she was a stranger.

"I'm Dennis by the way," he offered his hand in handshake.

He could feel her stare behind the visor as she sat motionless. She raised her finger over where her lips would have been behind the visor, giving him the signal to be quiet. Dennis tried to make himself comfortable, but between the constant disturbances and her watching over him intently, he had trouble getting any sleep. He was looking forward to finding a nice comfy place to sleep. He took a sniff of his armpit and recoiled in disgust. Perhaps a shower would be the first thing, he thought.