CHAPTER TWO

Screams. Gunfire. More screams. It was all an endless cycle within Nigel McAdams's mind, one that had replayed throughout it for years upon end.

Being a veteran of the Vietnam War was a hard experience for Nigel, but it was made all the more difficult by the emotional stress and trauma levied against him by the fact that his own younger brother, Tadi, had died in the war right before his very own eyes. Nigel had always hung onto the guilt, blaming himself for his brother's death. If he hadn't talked him into joining the war effort with him, he'd never have joined.

He'd never have died.

At seventy-five years of age, Nigel McAdams still held onto guilt. Not just for Tadi's death, but for the deaths of the rest of his family. All except for young Sahale.

Nigel snapped awake in an instant. His mind had wandered, drifting as it tended to do when he was in a state of calm and peace. His eyes darted about the camp clearing, as if he expected to see an enemy soldier crawling from the bushes.

No, Nigel, he told himself. This is no longer Vietnam. We are not at war.

Then again, he thought, they were technically at war, but against an all-too-dissimilar foe. The undead were no Vietcong soldiers, of course, but they still posed a threat, and one that was not to be taken lightly.

As Nigel's brown eyes continued to dart about, they narrowed as he realized his young grandson Sahale was not around. "Sahale?!" Nigel called. There was no answer. Slowly, yet as nimbly as he could, Nigel clambered to his feet. "Sahale!"

Nigel glanced about behind the tree he had been leaning against when a face appeared before him. Nigel lurched back, his jaw dropping in shock, before a pair of hands reached out from below the face. "Whoa, whoa, Mr. McAdams, I'm sorry! I didn't mean to startle you."

The face belonged to a woman. Nigel didn't know her all too well—the same could be said for the rest of the group, quite frankly—but he did know her name. Emily Kratt, a housewife and mother of two before the apocalypse. Now, she and her husband Brian had become survivors just like the rest of them, watching after their kids, eleven-year-old Caitlyn and seventeen-year-old Brennan, as the threat of the undead roamed about around them.

Nigel felt his composure slowly regain itself, yet he refused to let it show on his leathery, darkly tanned face. Hailing from a mixed heritage, Nigel's father John was an American who was a defender of Native American rights and had fallen in love with Huyana, a member of the Lenape tribe, eventually marrying her. "It's quite all right, Mrs. Kratt," Nigel said, bowing his head. He had become quite skilled at not letting his emotions show.

Emily slowly dipped her head. "If you say so, Mr. McAdams. Did I hear you calling for your grandson?"

The mere thought of the boy and his absence caused worry to fester in Nigel's soul. "Yes—Sahale—have you seen him, I wonder?" Nigel asked.

Emily bit her lip. "No, I'm afraid not. He wasn't playing with Caitlyn last I saw her. Maybe he's with Annalise? I know she was with Ali."

"Perhaps." Nigel tried his best to offer up a smile, but he knew it had to be a sorry sight. "Thank you for your help, Mrs. Kratt."

"Of course. And please," Emily said, beaming at the elderly man, "it's Emily."

"Emily. Yes. Of course." Nigel nodded and waved before turning and dismissing himself from the conversation. As he walked away, Nigel sighed to himself.

He was still not used to being part of a group. And, quite honestly, he never thought he would be.

A calm, serene lake was quite possibly one of the most beautiful sights nature had to offer, Elodie Kowalski told herself matter-of-factly as she sat with her legs tucked underneath her chin. And in a world gone to hell, you needed to find beauty anywhere you could.

At eighteen-years-old, at the crossroads of life, Elodie could not believe the direction her life had taken. In the midst of what she liked to refer to as a "gap year" to her parents—basically it was just a year off doing whatever she pleased with no responsibilities to anyone but herself—Elodie had hitched a ride with her high school friend Camille Carmichael, who was headed to the University of Alabama, before deciding to be dropped off in Georgia. She'd bounced around a bit, finding spare rooms and odd jobs before she settled on a job at a horse ranch.

In all honesty, horses made her freeze up in fear. Her boss, Jimmy Clark, had taught her how to ride one of the majestic beasts, but she still never quite trusted them. Nevertheless, her job at the ranch—which doubled as a riding school—put in her close contact with horses every single day, so she got to be up-close and personal with them.

Jimmy was the kind of older guy—he was forty-seven, he had told Elodie—that just screamed "southern." He was hospitable, had that syrupy down-South charisma, and the self-made, hard-worked exterior that made him a likeable yet common sensical person. He had given Elodie the job on the spot; at first, she thought he did it out of pity, but eventually came to learn it had been done out of compassion. She was in about the same position he had been when he was sixteen, he eventually told her. Someone had been kind to him, and he was simply passing it on.

And passed it on he did. For nearly two months the two got to know one another well, and Elodie came to consider him a friend. Something similar to a father figure; he seemed more compassionate and understanding of her than her actual father, Paul, although there was no doubting his love for her. He just had a hard time of showing it.

The thought of her father eventually led to thoughts of her mother. Elodie sighed and felt something ping inside of her. Was it guilt? Sadness? Or something else? Honestly, she couldn't tell, and she prayed for nothing more than for it to go away. The thought of her parents being dead, having not found out if she was alive or otherwise, was a horrible thought to her. If she could just see them again, just speak to them again, Elodie would give anything for it.

But alas, such was not the case.

Seeing people, just for nothing more than to ensure their survival, was something Elodie had longed for so much. Jimmy and Camille—both of their fates were also unknowns to Elodie. The last she had seen of Camille was when she dropped her off after their carpool from New York to the South. Jimmy had shoved her into his Subaru Forester, with his Springfield M1903, telling her to get out of there and that he'd find her. She'd hoped he would, but the last she had seen of him was him turning, whipping out his handgun, and firing at a pack of . . . zombies that was rushing him.

Zombies. The very thought still made Elodie balk. How could this happen? The dead rising from the grave, coming back to life to eat other humans? Elodie had seen this stuff countless times in horror flicks she had watched at late-night parties with friends in high school, but she'd never have thought it'd be reality one day, yet here she was.

As Elodie sighed, she gripped a smooth stone at her side and ran her fingers over its surface. Then, cocking her arm sideways, she let loose, watching the stone fly into the water's surface, skipping twice. A slight smirk licked at her lips. Elodie scanned the area around her, finding another smooth rock. She cast it, this time skipping . . . twice. Again.

Elodie's smirk slipped into a frown. She glanced down again, finding another rock. Taking careful aim, Elodie cast it again—and it skipped two times, again. Elodie's brow furrowed. She reached down for another stone, bringing it up, and then . . . splish!

Elodie's large, dark eyes widened, and she spun around, reaching instinctively for the Springfield not three feet from her. She already had it in her hands, the stock pressed into her shoulder, when she recognized the figure before her. With a huff of a sigh, Elodie lowered the rifle, resting it on her thighs. "You dumbass. I could've killed you."

Brennan Kratt chuckled, obviously amused at himself. "That'd have been a shame, wouldn't it?" He nodded towards the lake. "Looks like I'm more of a natural than you. It skipped three times on just the first try."

Elodie's full lips slipped back into a smile. Always the charmer and flirt ever since she'd become a bit of a socialite in high school, Elodie slowly set the rifle to the side. "Oh really? You're a natural, huh?"

Brennan's lips turned into a cocky grin. "I guess you could say that."

Elodie turned, brushing her dark hair from her forehead, sunlight streaking onto her olive, sun-kissed skin as she brushed her hair behind her shoulders, letting it rest loosely across the back of her baby blue T-shirt. Elodie tended to wear bright colors when she could, but she couldn't really be too picky nowadays. Her usual wardrobe had consisted of the trendy type of clothing for a girl her age; tight pants, short shorts, or skirts, whatever she could find or was in the mood to wear. Right now, aside from the blue shirt, it was a pair of blue jean shorts cut off to the middle of her thighs.

Brennan stepped closer, his feet crunching in the leaves that littered the ground. His dark brown hair was combed over; he was the type to make sure not a hair was out of place, Elodie had noticed ever since they'd met. She was a relative newcomer to the group, and as such was a bit of an outlier when it came to being included in many activities. Nevertheless, the fact that she was so young was a bit of an opening for others to become close to her.

The fact that she was an attractive girl only one year Brennan's senior made it a no-brainer for him to become immediately interested. And boy, was he interested. Like a smitten puppy dog, he had followed her around for about the first week. Elodie had always been one to have fun with boys and having someone pining after you was a feeling that she cherished.

Brennan came to a stop beside Elodie. She could feel his eyes almost boring a hole in the back of her head. After a few seconds, she let out a chuckle. "Go on, sit down," she said, glancing to him and patting the mound of dirt beside her. He dropped down, a boyish grin on his face. He clasped his hands together around his knees, surveying the lake.

"Wow. This place is—"

"Beautiful?" Elodie asked, glancing to him with a raised eyebrow.

Brennan nodded, glancing to her. "Yeah." His blue eyes got lost, entranced in a staring contest with the dark orbs of her beautiful eyes. He knew he had to have the stupidest look on his face. Finally, he shook his head. "I-I'm sorry."

Elodie finally let out a chuckle. "Don't be. You're not the first," she said as she glanced back to the lake.

Brennan bit his lip nervously. "So . . . um, Elodie, I was wanting to ask if you'd—"

Before Brennan could finish, a twig snapped to their right. Both teenagers' heads snapped in unison towards the bushes, and Brennan got to his feet first, stepping between the bushes and Elodie. Slowly, cautiously, Elodie's hand slowly crept back across the dirt, finding the wooden stock of the M1903.

"Is anyone there?" Brennan asked. He was, deep inside, hoping for answer. That would at least mean it wasn't a walker. Still, the alternative—that it might be his mother or father catching him alone with a girl in the woods—wasn't something he was particularly keen on.

"Yes," a soft voice answered, and Brennan relaxed. Thankfully, it was neither. The bushes rustled some more, and a small boy exited. The boy reached up, ruffling his black curls, as he glanced nervously from Brennan to Elodie.

"What were you doing in there? Were you watching us—" Brennan said, his face twisting in anger, before Elodie placed a hand on his arm.

"Relax, Brennan," Elodie calmed him. She glanced to the boy, smiling gently. "It's all right, Sahale. What're you doing out here?"

Sahale glanced at Brennan, a bit uncertain, before answering, "I just wanted to go for a walk. It was getting boring just listening to Grandpa snore, and . . . well, I didn't really have anything else to do."

Elodie grinned as Brennan slowly began to calm himself. "I hope you at least told someone where you were going?" she inquired.

Sahale's tan cheeks turned beet red. "Oh. Whoops."

Both teenagers chuckled as Elodie casually slung the rifle over her shoulder. "It's okay, we were done here anyways." Brennan turned to Elodie incredulously, mouthing a "what?" before Elodie cut him off with an inaudible "hush." Elodie reached a hand out to Sahale, and he took. "Come on, let's get back to camp."

The trio began the trek back to camp as Brennan shook his head, kicking a small pile of dirt. So much for that.

A/N: Hello everyone! Welcome to chapter 2 of No Man's Land! You've now met a few more members of the group, specifically Elodie, Nigel, and Sahale, three of the OCs that you guys have submitted! It's a bit slow starting, but I'm wanting to get you all introduced to our main group before we delve further into the story itself. But don't worry, big things are coming - in the next chapter, as a matter of fact. I hope you've all enjoyed the first two chapters so far, and if you have, be sure to let me know your thoughts on the story and characters so far. All reviews are appreciated!

Also, I have begun work on character profiles on my profile page as a suggestion from a reader. It is a great idea, to have a list of all the main characters with brief summaries and character bios for quick reference, for both you all and myself. It's not finished yet, but it shall be soon so you guys can be able to see all the characters and their basic info.

As always, if you have any thoughts or questions be sure to send them my way and I'll be glad to read them. And, if you are interested in submitting an OC, it's not too late! Just fill out the form in the introduction and send it as a PM and I'll be glad to look it over. Thank you all again so much for reading and joining me in this adventure. Until next time.