text: [Themes: fantasy, post-apocalyptic]
  
  "Okay, we'll stay. But tomorrow, we leave. First thing in the morning." Everyone nods their heads in agreement. You have a bad feeling about this.
  
  After everyone is settled down and laying on their air mattresses, you slip out the front door. Outside, it's still rather free of zombies. You sit down on the road and look around. You think about your wife, and Washington, and everything that's happened. So much changed in just two days.
  
  Suddenly, you hear leaves crunching behind you. You turn around, thinking it's a zombie, but it's not. It's a soldier. He has frizzy, unkempt black hair, and still wears his uniform. "Mind if I have a seat?"
  
  You feel oddly safe around him. He hasn't shown any signs of aggression, and to your knowledge, he has no weapons. He does, however, have a duffel bag. "I been watchin' you, with that group." "Watching me?" you say in surprise.
  
  "Yeah, watching you. The way you raided that gun store. I'm gonna be straight with you; these folks are slowin' ya down. I'm headed to Washington, just like you are. I believe you're more capable to get there if you travel lighter."
  
  "Where are you going with this?" you ask. "I'm askin' you to ditch these people and come to Washington. You have family there, correct?" You nod. "'Kay, then. Why waste time? You have no connection to these people. You don't even know their last names."
  
  "How do I know I can trust you?" you ask. The man's expression doesn't change. "I guess you don't. But that's a decision I'm gonna leave to you." Both of you sit in silence on the road for a few minutes. Then, the soldier gets up and opens his duffel bag. He takes out a can of spray paint, and walks over in the direction of the unfinished message.
  
  > follow The Stranger
  Something about what the soldier said makes you think. Barbara can't operate a weapon, Mikey doesn't like you, and probably never will, and Megan is too shy for you to even be sure about her. You realize the soldier is right, and go to follow him.
  
  You catch up with the soldier as he is finishing the spray-painted message on the wall.
  
  "What's the rebuilding?" you ask. "Oh," the soldier answers, "It's a military plan that died out pretty quickly. Back before the zombies took control, we had a plan set up to rebuild and restructure the damaged areas. You know, help with businesses, relocate families." That makes sense. Nobody saw this outbreak coming, and it makes you feel better that the government is working to help you. You hope they were able to help your wife to safety. Along with everyone else of course, but mostly your wife.
  
  "It's pretty dark out," says the soldier. "We should head back." You are confused. "Head back? To where?" The soldier looks at you and raises his eyebrows. "The camp. Follow me." The soldier leads you back past where Barbara and her kids are, and into the trees. "By the way, my name's Conway," he says suddenly.
  
  > Camp
  After a few minutes, you arrive at a small campsite. A single tent is set up in front of a living space. A fire pit, a log to sit on, what looks like a knife-sharpening station, among other things. "Here we are," Conway says. "Camp me."
  
  "Are you alone?" you ask, noting the single, one person tent. "I am now," Conway answers. "I was with one of the patrol groups, but we got split up in all the ruckus. There were a bunch of useless men anyway. Pretty sure I was the only one who could operate a rocket launcher." You think of the civilian volunteers back at the wall, and wonder if Conway was paired with such people.
  
  "So you just ditched them?" you ask as you sit down on the log. "Wasn't my choice. We carried packs with necessary supplies for a few days in the event we were separated or trapped. Once I knew I was gone, I booked it outta there. Found this place, set up shop, and ditched my backpack. Kept the duffel bag for carrying big finds," Conway answers.
  
  "Aren't you heading back to Washington?" you ask. Conway chews his lip for a moment before answering, "No. Not yet." You decide to leave it there. You don't want to bring up a possible bad moment in the man's past, so you change the subject. "Where are we sleeping?" Conway snaps at of his thoughts. "Oh yes! Um, you can take the tent. I have no problem sleeping on the ground. Won't be the first time."
  
  You nod, and take note of Conway's supplies. He has quite a few guns, an impressive knife collection, and whatever he's hiding in the duffel bag. It's definitely full, but you aren't sure of what. There's also plenty of food around, but no water to be seen. You wonder if Conway hid it, or needs more.
  
  As you look around, Conway says, "You planning on sleeping anytime soon, or are you just gonna sit there and stare at my guns?" You climb into the tent, and try to sleep on the inflatable pillow and thin blanket.
  
  > rise and Shine
  When you wake up, Conway is already up. From the way he's acting, you wonder if he ever fell asleep. You see five empty cans scattered around the area, more than three servings of breakfast. You decide not to comment, and pick up a can of instant mashed potatoes.
  
  "Alrighty," Conway says as you eat, "Today, I'm thinkin' we go out and look for more supplies. Specifically, more ammo for him," Conway points to an especially large gun propped against a tree, "...some more food, and, of course, any other survivors we can find."
  
  "Wait, what?" you ask. "If you were looking for survivors to rescue, why didn't you get my whole group back at the nature center?" Conway goes quiet, similar to yesterday when you asked if he was headed to Washington. He finally answers, "I'm not rescuing people."
  
  "Speaking of which," he says, "We'd better get moving. Your people are gonna start wonderin' where you went, and they could also be a supply drain. Early bird gets the arm cannon! Let's get moving!" Not wanting to challenge Conway, you hop up and follow him out of the woods, and onto another car-choked road.
  
  You scan the area for points of interest. You don't see anything, but Conway does. He points out something a few streets over, that you can't see. You tell him there's nothing there, to which he insists there is. "I can't tell what it is," he says, "But it has our colors. Let's go grab it."
  
  As Conway leads you through the cars over to the next street, a lone zombie comes out from behind one of the cars. "Aw, shoot," Conway says, and pulls a large knife out of his belt loop. He goes over to kill the zombie, and stabs the knife through its forehead. The knife is so comically large, it goes through the zombie's head, and sticks out the back three inches. "Well?" he says.
  
  The thing he saw was a camo backpack. You unzip it and find several ammo magazines you don't recognize. "Yes!" Conway shouts, and pulls one of the cartridges out of the backpack. "Here's just what I was lookin' for!" You see a few other things in the pack, including a hunting knife. You pocket it for yourself, and examine the rest of the pack. It's mostly military-type stuff.
  
  You look up, and see a small pack of zed coming through the cars towards you. "Uh oh," you say, and grab your knife. Conway turns towards them. "Looks like that rotter brought some friends!" You go to the right, and single off one zombie. While Conway goes to town on the others, you focus on the one in front of you. When it's close enough, you force the knife into its face. To your satisfaction, the zombie dies instantly. You pull the knife out and let it drop to the ground.
  
  Conway looks at what you've done. "Excellent! You're learning," he says. "Anyway, this is one awesome find. You wanna go for more, or should we go back with our find?"
  
  > search for more
  "Let's keep going," you say confidently. Conway smiles. "That's the way. Where to?"
  
  You travel up the road, cautiously watching for more zombies. It doesn't look like there's much more out here. The cars are all empty, and there's a severe lack of convenient backpacks. You think about searching elsewhere. "There a problem?" Conway asks. "You reconsiderin'?" You shake your head. "Maybe we should go to where there's more buildings, and potential for supplies," you say.
  
  The city isn't much more fruitful. As you look at the empty streets, you see something painted on a wall. At first, it looks like another call to Washington, but the message is different:
  
  "Conway," you say. "What do you think this is?" Conway reads the message, and laughs. "What the hell? What kind of garbage is this? 'New World Order?' Sounds like some lunatic wants to take on the government. The whack job's probably dead by now. You ready to head back?"
  
  You're disappointed at your lack of finding anything, but at least you killed a few zombies with your new knife. You're feeling more comfortable with it. You and Conway walk back to his camp.
  
  > head back
  Conway happily loads his new ammo into his gun back at the camp, while you unpack the backpack. A lot of ammo, a few more knives, an empty water bottle, and a gold bracelet. "Huh," says Conway. "That looks familiar. I think someone used to wear that around. Uh....oh come on...what was his....Lincoln! That was it! Yeah, he used to have that, but this ain't is backpack."
  
  You eat a light lunch, and talk to Conway more about Washington. "You ready to leave?" you ask, anticipating a bad response. Conway seems to have come to terms with whatever was troubling him. "Yes, I think we'll leave soon. The only obstacle is a good vehicle. I can drive just about anything, but I want somethin' durable, not just some car on the side of the road. I plan to drive through the wastelands in style, know what I mean?" You nod. There are benefits to a more durable vehicle for sure. You make plans to search tomorrow, and leave as soon as you find what you're after.
  
  "Now that that's settled," Conway says. "You up for a little game?"
  
  > A what?
  Conway fishes two more guns out of his duffel bag. "Follow me."
  
  Conway leads you to the top of a small hill, overlooking another trashed street. This one, however, is full of the dead. "The rules are simple," says Conway. "You shoot the zombies. I did this to pass time, I have no shortage of ammo. Now that there's two of us, I suppose we should set up some rules."
  
  You agree on ten points per killed zombie. Twenty if you steal a kill from someone else. You lose five points if you don't kill a zombie first shot. Conway seems very invested in the game, but you just see it as target practice. "Alright," he says. "Three, two..."
  
  You kill a zombie on the very first shot, standing next to a jeep. The next kill is in the driver's seat of a station wagon. "I think bonus points are in order for that one," says Conway. Before you know it, you're into the game, too. You don't kill every zombie on the first shot, but you're decent. Conway, of course, has double your points by the time you've used up all your rounds. "Good game," he says. "We should head back, I guess."
  
  > A Calling
  Your walk back is uneventful. You still aren't sure what the point of that excursion was, but it's nice to get your mind off impending doom for awhile. Plus, as Conway said, there's no shortage of bullets.
  
  You arrive back at the campsite as night is falling. "Well, time to hit the hay," says Conway. "Are we leaving for Washington tomorrow?" you say. It's not that you're getting impatient, but you don't see a reason (beyond Conway's personal reason) for staying back. Conway slowly nods. "Yeah. Yeah, we'll leave soon."
  
  "Soon?" you ask. "Or tomorrow?" Conway doesn't answer this time. You begin to question whether joining him was a good idea, and consider ditching him if you need to. As you retire to your tent, you hear a crackling noise from Conway's duffel bag. Quickly, he fishes out the object. It's a walkie talkie.
  
  Chzzz.....Zhhcccc..tzzz....Hello? Anytzzzz....anyone there? Conway, is chzzzzzzzzzz....
  
  "Yes? Hello, yes! Yes, this is Conway Matthews, deployed with the fourth wave? Do you copy?"
  
  Tzhhhhhh.....Chzzzz...... getting really bad outthcccczzzz....going to leave soon.....wanted to check for any others....tchzz.......tchzzzare you? Come to the......thczzzzz.....
  
  Conway fiddles with the receiver in an attempt to make the signal stronger. "I'm losing connection! Where are we supposed to go?"
  
  Tchzzzzzz....................341...tchzzzstreet.....local museum.....
  
  Conway looks up at you in slow recognition. "The museum," you repeat. Conway nods. "Let's go. Now."
  
  You quickly collapse the tent, while Conway packs various weapons into his duffel bag. "We aren't gonna have room for everything," he says. "It's either the guns, or the food. I can fit some of both, but we need to make our choice quick."
  
  Meanwhile, the person on the other end of the walkie talkie gives out more advice.
  
  Streets are crowdetchcchhh........be careful.....the dead aren't gchhhhhhhhh.......hundreds of them...in the streets........come quick.....we need to leave soon...
  
  You can make out gunshots in the background. You can hear the same gunshots echoing through the city.
  
  > Mostly guns
  "Pack more guns," you say. "We'll need them for the dead." Conway nods. You disassemble a large gun with Conway's instruction. After the duffel bag is full of guns, you're ready to leave. "Come on," he says. "Through the backstreets."
  
  You can immediately tell what the others were talking about. Where the streets used to be empty (of zombies, not of cars), there are now vast hordes. They aren't moving in any direction, or at all for that matter. They just bump into each other and walk in circles. You and Conway elect to stay off the roads, and slip between buildings.
  
  Meanwhile, Conway keeps a conversation going with the other soldier. Through garbled radio speech, you hear him tell you what's going on. The dead are mostly avoiding the museum, which is why that's their pick-up spot.
  
  You're sneaking past a rogue group of zed when the radio suddenly emits a loud burst of static. The group slowly turns their heads, and they growl at a potential food source. "Oh, please no," Conway whispers. The dead slowly hobble over to where you're advancing. You don't know whether to keep sneaking or lash out, but Conway makes that decision for you. Whipping out his knife, he takes the top half the the closest zombie's skull off with one sweep.
  
  You draw your knife, and take care of a few of the others. After the horde is cleared, Conway switches off the walkie talkie. "Not gonna go through that again."
  
  You slowly progress through the city amongst the waves of walkers. Eventually, the museum is in sight. You're surprised to see an actual helicopter guarded by a handful of soldiers. Conway switches the walkie talkie back on.
  
  "We can see you, over."
  
  Tchhhhhh....okay, that's good......These hordes are getting worse....no way you're gonna make it through here.....we can provide covering fire......run for it......
  
  You look at Conway, and nod. The soldiers reveal several guns, and start firing on the group of zombies. Taking the chance, you follow Conway through the gunfire. A few zombies attempt to follow you, but you're moving too fast for them. When you get past the hordes, the soldiers wave to you and open the helicopter doors. "GET IN!"
  
  You climb into the helicopter after Conway, with a sea of rotting flesh at your heels. You slam the door shut, and hear the helicopter blades whir to life. "Come on! Let's get this bird off the ground!" shouts one of the soldiers. The helicopter slowly lifts off the ground, with a few zombies holding on for dear life to the bottom. They slip free once you're airborne.
  
  > Airborne
  The sky view of the city is quite depressing. The streets are full of cars and zombies, buildings sit demolished and broken, and you can see a few places that you recognize from before all this. It hurts to see them invaded by corpses.
  
  In the helicopter, you are accompanied by three men (not including Conway). Roger seems to be the only one ordering people around, so you assume he's in charge. Ozzy, the pilot of the helicopter, silently minds his own business. The third soldier, Matthias, isn't dressed in a soldier's uniform. What he's wearing could only be classified as a 'makeshift doctor's outfit'. You wonder if he was involved with helping injured civilians.
  
  "Where exactly are we aiming to land?" asks Conway. "There's another outpost just a bit north, with more gas stores," answers Matthias. "That is, assuming we'll be the first to arrive. Communication's been lost for awhile, so it's just kind of a mad rush for survival at this point."
  
  "And we have the ultimate goal of getting back to Washington, correct?" you ask. Roger nods. "It kinda depends on what mindset you have. Some have the 'save as many as you can, carry out our original orders' mindset. I personally follow the 'let's stay alive' mindset. Provided we make it back to Washington on two legs, we should be fine."
  
  You stare out the window some more, watching the rivers of death move through the city.
  
  > The landing
  You've always kind of wondered what riding in a helicopter would be like. Now you know: boring, with a slight touch of fear of heights.
  
  Finally, Ozzy makes a short announcement. "We're nearing the landing spot." Thank goodness. Suddenly, something starts beeping on the control board. "What's that?" asks Roger.
  
  "We don't have enough to make it there," Ozzy says, with slight fear in his voice. "At this rate, we'll have to walk the last few miles to get to the gas stores, and then take them back on foo-"
  
  Ozzy is interrupted by several metallic noises, like someone is dumping marbles onto the helicopter. "What in the.." says Roger. You look out the window, and are shocked to see a group of people firing at the helicopter.
  
  "Making an emergency landing," says Ozzy. "Brace yourselves." Roger stares out the window in disbelief. "Why the hell are they shooting at us?"
  
  To your surprise, the shooters break into a run and follow the helicopter on its course downward. "We're going to meet them when we land," you say. Matthias and Roger are already arming themselves. "Well then," says Roger. "Let's meet 'em."
  
  When the helicopter plunks down, and the blades whir to a stop, the shooters are ready at the doors. A gravelly voice commands you to come out, unarmed.
  
  "That'll be the day," says Roger. "We aren't doing anything of the sort. Actually, you're the ones who should be running. I'll give you five seconds. Five..."
  
  Five is plenty for them. The shooters open fire, damaging the helicopter's window and hull. The soldiers quickly return fire, but the battle's pretty one-sided. The shooters definitely have the numbers, and the better guns.
  
  "What do you want from us?" asks Roger. This is the first time you're getting a good look at the shooters. They look horrible, dressed in filthy clothing, with generally ugly faces. Not a single one is clean-shaven or looks like they've had a haircut even once.
  
  "We want your 'copter," grunts one of the shooters. "We can't allow that," says Roger. "We're headed back to Washington. You should come, there are showers, and fresh food, and-"
  
  "NO!" the shooter angrily kicks a rock. "We want the helicopter! And food! And books! And all of it! And guns! And snakes! And cell phones!"
  
  The soldiers look at each other in disbelief. "These people have lost it," whispers Conway. Should you give up what you can, or try to diffuse the situation?
  
  > give up guns
  "Okay," you say. "We have extra guns. You can have some of them." This seems to pacify the people. You quickly go back into the helicopter and get the duffel bag Conway brought along. You empty it of guns, and offer a good amount (but not too much) of them to the people.
  
  You are kind of shocked when the man walks up to you and takes the first gun, a pistol, out of your hand...in his mouth. He then proceeds to take guns off of you one by one. When he has what he wants, he backs off.
  
  "Ftill wuff hewicoffter," he says through the gun in his mouth. "What?" The man spits the pistol onto the ground. "We still want the helicopter."
  
  Matthias shakes his head. "This is ridiculous. We should leave." Roger shakes his head. "We can't, they'll gun us down."
  
  "Is there any way we can work around this?" you call to the man. He thinks for a moment. "Yes. If we can't have the helicopter, we want...follow us."
  
  The man promptly turns around and motions for you to follow him.
  
  > refuse to follow
  You stay where you are. The other soldiers do the same. When the man sees you standing still, he loses it.
  
  He throws his hands up in the air, and makes sputtering noises. He then proceeds to do some sort of angry dance, flinging his limbs around. The whole time, he's talking in broken English.
  
  Finally, he realizes he's in the presence of other people. He turns to you, and points at your stomach, then to your face. "Follow." He follows up the action by raising a gun.
  
  > Follow
  Reluctantly, you follow the man. Roger stops you. "You sure this is the wisest choice?"
  
  Conway chimes in. "Yeah, these guys seem a little...'on edge'." You nod. "I know this is dumb, but they have the firepower, and outnumber us two to one. We don't have another option."
  
  Slowly, your group follows the strange folk over to an empty parking lot. A group of dumpsters have been arranged in a defensive wall. Corpses litter the area. You can see piles of trash from discarded food, as well as several empty cans and bottles. Dirty mattresses propped against the dumpsters presumably serve as beds.
  
  "Welcome!" yells the man. The few people that were waiting at the camp stand up. They stare emotionlessly into your eyes. "Sit down," says the man, gesturing to a spot on the ground. "Oh," you say, "You want us to...join you?"
  
  Uncomfortable, you and your group sit amongst the filthy survivors. "So, now that you're part of us, you have to pass initiation," says the man. You sit up. "Hold up," says Roger. "We aren't joining you. That was never up for arguing." The man sticks out a pouty lip, and walks over to where Roger sits. Roger rises, and meets the man.
  
  "Yes," says the man. "You will be joining us for dinner."
  
  Suddenly, Roger pulls a gun from his belt and shoots the man in the head, killing him. Horrified, the remaining members of the other group fish around for their guns, and begin to fire aimlessly. You group stands up defensively, and you realize you don't have a weapon of your own. As gunshots ring around you, you hide under a dumpster. The other group quickly loses track of your people. You stay hidden under the dumpster, while the garbage group searches out your people. You see a pair of feet coming over to your dumpster.
  
  > run away
  Without thinking, you climb out form under the dumpster on the opposite side of the unknown enemy. You crawl over to the next dumpster to climb over, when you hear an excited, "Found one!" behind you.
  
  A bullet rips through your midsection, causing you to yell in pain. You hear a triumphant laugh behind you, and your attacker grabs you by the feet. You are dragged into the middle of the parking lot. The man who brought you here stands over you with a gun.
  
  "This is what happens to people who don't join us for dinner," he says, and shoots you in the kneecap, immobilizing you. You yell out again, and receive a shot in the side. Several more bullets go through you, until you're barely alive. As your vision fades, the man's laugh pounds in your eardrum.