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"Watch the fucken road!" shouted Carla. "You drive like shit!"

"Leave me alone!" replied Al. "There are too many of them! They're going to wreck the truck!"

"We'll only wreck if you keep swerving to miss them stupid," replied Carla. "Just drive right through them."

"No!" replied Al. "They'll jam the truck and then we'll be fucked!"

Just then Al swerved the truck to the right to avoid a small crowd of the undead walking aimlessly in the middle of the street. He missed the zombies but didn't anticipate the stalled tractor-trailer that was parked along the curb. The right side of the step van they were in then collided with the trailer.

He lost control of the step van and it fell on its left side, sliding about forty feet before stopping. Carla fell on top of Al and Al's face hit the windshield. He was bleeding from several cuts to the face but Carla only suffered a bruised head and sore neck.

"You fucken asshole!" shouted Carla. "Now look what you did!"

"Get off me!" shouted Al. "I've got to get out of here before they get me."

They then heard the shuffling feet and moans of the undead coming towards the van. Al quickly climbed over Carla and lifted himself out of the van. Carla was right behind him swearing at him as she climbed out. Both of them began running towards the direction of the shelter approximately one and a half-miles away.

Although everywhere, the undead were spread apart, making it easy for the two to run past them. Carla, a twenty-eight year old, blond, former electrician, was having difficulty keeping up with Al. She hated working with him because of how cowardly he was.

"He always panics and fucks up everything," thought Carla.

Carla never enjoyed running that much. The extra weight of her tool belt and assault rifle made it more difficult. As the two ran across a freeway over pass she could see the hundreds of abandoned cars littering the freeway. Every time she saw that freeway she thought about all those motorists that must have been attacked while trying to leave the city.

While running she could see that Al was beginning to tire. The initial rush of adrenaline had worn off. He had spent too much time in a panic run that he was beginning to lose energy. He could barely make it past the out-stretched hands of the ghouls that were trying to grab him as he ran by.

After ten minutes of running. The shelter was finally within sight. Carla then took a moment and spoke into her portable radio.

"Open the back gate," she said almost out of breath.

"You are supposed to come in through the front entrance," replied a voice from the radio.

"I don't have time to fuck around," said Carla. "The van's totaled and we're on foot. Just open the back gate."

"There are no gunners there," said the voice on the radio. "You'll have to take care of any ghouls hanging around there yourself."

"Fine, fine, just open the fucken gate!" shouted Carla.

As they approached the rear of the shelter they could see that there were only a few ghouls hanging around. Most of the ghouls near the shelter stayed at the front entrance because of the on going movement there.

When they were within a hundred feet of the rear fence, the motorized chain link gate, which was approximately forty feet in length, started to slowly open. Al and Carl then ran into the rear lot while the gate was still opening. The gate had to fully open before it could be closed again. Al ran to the rear door, which was about thirty feet from the gate, and immediately attempted to punch in the combination code.

"The door won't open!" shouted Al.

"You probably punched in the wrong combo, idiot," said Carla. "Wait ten seconds and it will reset itself."

"No time!" shouted Al.

Al then pointed his rifle barrel at the combination pad. Before Carla could protest what he was doing Al had already fired several rounds into it.

The combination pad sparked and shorted out.

"You fucken moron!" shouted Carla. "Now you jammed the lock."

Carla then spoke into her portable and said," Al jammed the lock. Send someone to open rear door from the inside."

"They're on the way," replied the voice on the radio.

At this time a small crowd of ghouls were slowly approaching the gate entrance. Carla was relieved to see that the gate was starting to close. As long as the gate secured the lot, those things couldn't get it. One of the ghouls, a decomposing male wearing construction workers clothing, started walking towards the closing gate.

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