The dark haired girl screamed, loudly. She was finally back home, but things weren't better. She was tired of zombies! And even more tired of the damned Germans. Why was she getting dirty? Why was she laying on the floor of a dusty and slightly dirty porch, trying not to be seen?<br/><br/>Well, the questions were easy. The girls she'd gone over to Europe with were dead, and the soldiers that had transferred her back to the states were gone. She wasn't supposed to be fighting for her life, she was too pretty. She was supposed to be getting engaged to a soldier and getting married so that she could spend her life helping him have a better life. But that's not what she got. Instead, she got dirt on her nails, and her favorite shorts were lightly torn.<br/><br/>The zombies were coming her way, and she couldn't help being scared. The French Catholic girl prayed to her God as she pushed herself to her feet, to stand in her high fashionable heels. Then, she wheeled around and ran for it, her black hair waving slightly from the places it had popped out of it's style.