"It's not going to end, is it?" she said, in a frightened voice. She looked around the room for any sign that she had been heard. The others seemed to ignore her. The last echoes of her voice bounced from wall to wall, and then the room was quiet once more. The largest of the men looked up a bit, and turned toward the woman.

"I don't know Judy, things ain't looking for the better," he replied, as optimistic as ever. "Them damn Walkers dun taken over our world, and till someone decides to take it back, we're all in Hell." With that, he again let his head sink between his shoulders.

Judy had been with the group for about ten days. From the moment she joined this unlikely bunch of survivors, her every waking moment became a fight for life. With each passing day, quiet mornings like this one were becoming a lot less frequent. When she did have a moment's peace, Judy would collect her thoughts. The fact that the dead had somehow risen didn't bother her as much as the now obvious fact that she was being chased, as were they all, by these creatures. Trying to deal with the strain was exhausting, knowing that at any moment she could become lunch for one of these monsters.

She, and the others the group were resting. They had returned less than an hour earlier from a raid in town. Desperately needed supplies were found. Unfortunately, the group also faced a saddening truth: Humanity was not taking back the world. The dead now outnumbered the living, hundreds to one, and each day that gap was surely growing.

Of the five, there sat only two females; Judy and Alicia, who Judy thought would blow her own head off before admitting defeat.

They all sat around the room, blockaded in from the rest of the world; Pete, Donovan, Jaffe, Alicia, and herself made up the group. The fire they sat around burned dim in the night, so as to not attract any unwanted visitors. Lord knows they'd had enough of those.

"Cut the shit, Donovan! Don't scare 'em more than we already have." Pete was the leader. What he feared most was that his little band would leave him. Knowing that if they ever did, he'd be dead within the hour. At the moment, he was faking a smile.

"I say we just keep moving, as we have been... There's got to be more wanderers like us out there," Jaffe whispered. He though he was Dirty Harry, and sometimes, he sounded just like him sometimes. He fingered his Biretta softly, as he was always doing.

As the sun began to peak over the horizon, its first rays entered the room. With them came the natural warmth all humanity had come to love.

"Awe shit! We did it again. I hate seeing the sunrise. Makes me think of the BEFORE," Jaffe barked. The BEFORE being the time before the Walkers. Of course, the Walkers were those who were lucky enough to be killed in the beginning, but unlucky enough to rise again. And with them, there came an untamed hunger for the living.

"You fuckin' cus too often, Jaffe!" Donovan barked back.

"And your one to talk. A fuckin' saint you're not!"

It was always like this in the morning. Pete thought of it as the way Donovan and Jaffe got psyched up for the upcoming day. When they'd go out and clean up the area of Walkers, to insure a safe forthcoming night.

Capturing their little home was the hardest. It took nearly half the ammo they had to cut down all the Walkers, and two days to clean up the mess. You'd be surprised how fast one gets used to burning flesh. And after enough time, you actually begin to like it.

Now that they had a 'base of operations,' of sorts, they need only go out each day and take down the thirty or so strays that always seemed to show up. Donovan said at one point that they could somehow smell the living, and it drew those horrid Walkers to them.

The sun now rose quicker, high into the sky. Dawn.

"What happens when they figure out how to get past the alarm?" inquired Judy. Of the group, she feared the Walkers the most. Perhaps it came from her extensive contact with them when the group first found her. She'd been cornered in her bedroom, and was bloody screaming her head off, even after all the Walkers were taken down. Well, if that was the reason, she didn't admit to it one iota.

"They ain't got no brains, dear." Jaffe answered. He was always so sure of his work. Like a string of cans was hard to dodge.

Then it began. The sound of the tin cans, banging against each other. After hearing that everyday for a week and a half, they'd all gotten quite use to it. The Walkers had arrived, and it was time to clean house.

Jaffe was the first to his feet, as he always was. He bolted though the doorway, and into the shadows beyond, Biretta swinging in his firm hand.

"Wait up you dumb FUCK! Y'ain't havin' all the fun!" screamed Donovan, quick on his heels.

"Those two are gonna be the death of us, you know." Judy was looking Pete in the eyes again. To a stranger, one would swear they were the closest of lovers. In reality, Pete spoke his warmest from his eyes. Those beaded blue eyes.

"Maybe, dear, but for now, they're our power. And when they one day end up saving you, you'll change sights about 'em," he poured out, in a voice too emotional to ignore.

"Yeah right! Probably end up shooting each other in the ass one of these days, more like it!" Alicia piped in. She almost never spoke, though when she did, everyone felt it. "Dumb ass's will be the death of us all."

Then the gun-fire rang out, the torch of carnage in the chilled air of dawn. Echoes of each shot filled the room, banging the walls all around.

With that, Pete turned and got up. "Well, I'm off. Gotta do my part, or we'll all be screwed." He pulled his pistol, and headed through the doorway, leaving the two women to fend for themselves. This was not surprising, as now they were expected to provide their own means of protection during sun-up.

Pete's first destination was the generator room. Most of the Walkers were stupid enough to come to the front entrance, but there was always that stray that ended up getting in through the opened power doors.

For the life of him, Pete couldn't guess why more of those things didn't end up in here. After all, the doors were WIDE OPEN. If they ever got the power back on, that problem would be remedied, and in a hurry!

Pete turned the final corner, headed for the door marked 'Generator Room - Authorized Personnel Only'. As he pushed it open, he readied his gun.

Upon entering, he found that indeed, a Walker had managed to get itself into the generator room. On the far end of the room, the doors leading out stood open to the morning sun. An odd glare was casting on the floor, spiraling out into a hundred tiny crystals. Beyond the doors lay the invitation of freedom under the warm sun, and the very real possibility of death at the hands of thousands of animated corpses.

The Walker, which Pete encountered, was one of the worst he'd seen. At one time, this poor soul had been a police officer. The creature still wore what remained of its uniform, though now brown stains of dried blood covered much of it. On it's belt was an empty gun holster. The pistol probably lay near the place where this creature was born. From its head, there hung a large flap of skin, marking the entry to a gaping hole within. Dried gore encrusted the edges of the hole. It was obvious that this man had fought hard, though it was ultimately hopeless fighting the inevitable.

Upon his arrival, the Walker perked up, and was now in the process of shuffling over to where Pete stood. Its movements were tired, and forced. It moved no more than an inch forward with each step.

"Easy pickin's," thought Pete, a pleasant change from some of the Walkers he'd been forced put to rest. In an almost mechanical motion, he raised his gun to eye-level, and fired off two shots into the Walker's head.

A sound much like that made by a squashed melon filled the room as the two bullets entered the Walker's skull, just above his right eye. Then the Walker's head exploded outward, from the back, covering the wall behind with so much worm-filled matter. Then the Walker fell, as they all did, with a 'final' certainly.

Pete walked over to his fallen foe. It's eyes, or what was left of them, looked up at an invisible picture on the ceiling. Clotted blood leaked out from the now gaping hole in the monster's head. Then, with a soft hiss, the Walker's chest cavity collapsed.

Pete's stomach hit the floor from the combination of the smell released, and the disgust raised from the sight of a human with a collapsed chest. He turned, and vomited. A first this morning, but surely not the last.

Without a sound, he began his inspection of the room, to insure no other Walker's were about. After feeling he'd checked everywhere, he headed out through the marked door he entered from, and headed toward his second and final destination: the South end of the building.

They were situated in a standard military posture, where one covered the other's back. It was one of the easier flanks, and easiest of any to maintain. Only problem was, if one faltered, the weaknesses became intolerable.

When Donovan's final clip ran out, such a situation occurred.

"Fuckin' A!" he shouted, barely audible over the moans of the Walkers. He turned his sights from the attackers, toward his gun. "Gotta hate that!"

From somewhere inside, a scream filled the air. It was quite enough to turn Jaffe's gaze from the attackers, leaving no one to watch the Walkers onslaught.

"What the he..." he remarked, unable to finish his sentence, as Walkers literally poured onto him from behind. His gun fired off a dozen stray shots. Some dug into the attacking Walkers, and some dug into Donovan. He kicked and fought, throwing off a body with each move. Unfortunately, there were three to fill the space. Then they bit into him.

Gnawing, biting, eating. The things these Walkers did best, they did now, to both Jaffe and Donovan. Still, bodies would fly away from Jaffe, as he fought on and on... Till a bite caught his neck, and his struggling stopped. Five minutes later, the Walkers were in the building.

They were rough, and angled, matching the marks of a Walker's feet. He'd seen enough of them to know the walk. Like they were being dragged along by their hands. He hadn't, however, seen anything like these tracks INSIDE the complex, which meant... A Walker had got past him...

Then the scream cut though the air, banging down the corridors at breakneck speed. Pete broke into a run, cautious only when turning corners. Thirty seconds later, gun-fire blocked out all sounds... Originating from Jaffe and Donovan's positions...

"Mother Fucker!" screamed Pete, as he blurred down the corridors at his top speed.

"What?" she asked, bewilderment in her voice.

"His head's getting way too big, you know. It's not a good thing." Alicia replied, sneering.

"Well, as long as I'm here, and he's keeping us alive, he's all we have. He could have three heads, and I'd still trust him more than myself out there."

"A promise to yourself you'll regret, I assure you." Alicia turned toward the fire.

A few moments of headed silence filled the room, followed by the usual... Gunfire, from either Jaffe and Donovan, or Pete. Didn't matter which; they wouldn't waste bullets unless Walkers were in front of them.

Then Judy caught the sound, like shuffling. Coming from the hall.

"Hear that?" she inquired.

"What? Gunfire? How could I not... Damn near gives me a headache."

"No... The shuffling... Sounds like it's in the hall... And real close."

As Judy squeezed the last words through her tightened lips, it appeared. And IT was an good name for it. What appeared in the door was a Walker missing the left side of it's face. It wore a torn tee-shirt with the words "Shit Happens..." written on it. Brown crusts of blood covered the shirt, originating from it's neck. It's right foot was a literal lump of flesh and cloth.

"I'll say shit happens," Alicia joked. That was her way of dealing with a situation where she was not in control.

As she grinned, the Walker shuffled forward; it's right leg dragging helplessly behind. Judy screamed.

Turning the next corner, his fears were confirmed. The Walkers had an excellent sense of smell when it came to flesh. Living, human flesh. And this creep was like the rest. It was just inside the doorway where he'd left the two girls not ten minutes before, crotched almost into the wall behind them. As he stood there, the Walker turned.

"Shoot the fucking thing!" Alicia screamed.

"Na... It's confused... I think." Pete wasn't all that good with observations. Though it did sort of look like the Walker was caught up in some mental struggle over whom to eat first. Having obviously made up it's mind, the Walker turned back towards the two girls.

"Well, its got good taste, at least," Pete joked. With that, he took aim at the back of the Walker's head, and blew its brains out, and all over the two lumps in the corner.

The Walker began to wobble; watching in amazement as it's brains (gray chunky matter) oozing out onto the floor. Then it just fell over, with a dull thug. The head broke open on contact with the floor, sending out a wave of gray slush. The smell of the discolored mush was rancid, making everyone's eyes water. This Walker has been dead for quite some time.

"Well, take your time, Mr. Fucking G.I. Joe!" Alicia blurted out, not thinking (as usual). "Why didn't you wait till it killed one of us..."

Judy got to her feet, and began wiping the "Walker Brains" off her clothes as best she could. "Where are Donovan and Jaffe?"

"Dunno... Maybe wandering around the building..." It then occurred to Pete that not a single shot had been fired by anyone but himself in a good ten minutes. He caught himself praying that they were alright, and stopped.

Suddenly, Judy's face turned a gross shade of white. "Ahh... Pete. I know where they are." She raised her hand and pointed to Pete's left shoulder.

Instinctively, Pete swung around hard to his left, gun raised. As he turned, he saw them, and it turned him to stone. There were about a hundred Walkers wandering down the hall towards them, and they were led by what appeared to be the remains of Jaffe and Donovan.

Jaffe's skin was a sick marble color, and Donovan... Well, his right eye was missing and an obscene hole filled the area usually saved for one's throat. They shuffled down the hall, in a mindless dance, driven only by a newly discovered hunger... For the living.

Pete, not one to miss a beat, raised his gun, and reached for the door, closing it with a slam. "We're dead... I've got one clip left, less a bullet for our friend here," he said, motioning towards the dead Walker on the floor. "That's 14 rounds. So, unless they all line up, we ain't got a snow cone's chance in HELL. Looking around the room, Pete suddenly wished there was a piece of furniture in the room, something, anything... Which could be used to block the door.

Alicia stood, hand raised. "Um... You'd better bolt that... before..." Just as she was about to finish, the door cracked open, and a hand appeared. It swung at air, searching for something to feed its owner, but came up with nothing. Then a second hand appeared, this one longer.

Pete vaulted to the floor just before a second hand seized his shoulder. "Too late..." He frowned. "So, here we are, re-enacting Custard's Last Stand. Anyone got a cigarette?"

Just then, the door fell inward, pushed by a dozen lumps of crawling flesh. Still frowning, Pete vanished under a tidal wave of rancid meat. A second later, a gun shot reverberated through the room.

Meanwhile, on the far side of the room, Alicia and Judy began a horrifying chorus of screaming and shrieking, as the wave buried them in its wake. Kicking and pushing, the two girls made their way to the top of the decaying heap. Angry teeth snapped at them, but none ever found purchase in their skin. Across the room, Pete was also fighting hard, though he could surely not fight the hordes off forever.

Deciding that little more could be done to help Pete, Alicia summoned all the strength that she had left, and pushed herself and Judy forward. The large picture window on the nearby wall crashed outward, sending broken glass raining down. Then the two women were outside, and momentarily safe.

Looking around, it seemed to Alicia that the excitement of a quick meal had attracted most of the Walkers that were nearby. They piled in through the entry at the far end of the building. One or two of those pushing their way into the structure gave notice, but that was all.

Another gunshot rang from just inside the broken window... and then Pete came sailing out through the opening. As he came down on the ground, he rolled head over feet. Upon coming to a stop, he popped to his feet. Pete's clothes were torn badly, but he seemed intact. Unfortunately, he had left his gun behind. Without missing a step, he took each woman by the hand, and pulled each to her feet. Then the three of them bolted for the nearest accessible building. They were safe, at least for the moment.