Then..........<br/><br/>It was early in the morning as Xavier laid on his bunk, but rest wasn't something allowed to him. For the past three nights he hadn't had a drop of food, not allowed to go out and stretch his muscles or even work out. This may have been prison, but even that was odd yet understandable. From within his room he could hear the sounds of chaos as it roared through the structure like it had a physical form. Simply put; there was a riot. That was at least what he thought.<br/><br/>His window was too high up to see out of and the white good had a small window but the shield had been drawn over it. This seemed different though. These screams sound more like something one would hear from a horror show, not a battle between convicts and guards. He wasn't really bothered by the food, he was use to it when he use to box for weight control. He could also work out in his cell, even though he missed being able to work and lift weights. The only thing that really bothered him was the fact he couldn't use the phone.<br/><br/>His end day was in two weeks, in fourteen days he would be put down like some rabid dog. He just wanted to call his kids at least once before this week was over with.<br/><br/>"'Ere is!" A voice shouted out from the other side of his door which caused Xavier to look towards the small window to see the shield had been drawn back. The eyes that peered inside told him to be cautious which made him instantly sit up from his laying position. "Oh, we got ya bitch ass now!" Another voice said when a new pair of eyes had replaced the old. The sight of those eyes and the clicking of the doors told him one thing; The convicts won. He didn't even bother to wonder about the national guard or the army, this was more important right now. The door swung open and three familiar faces came into view.<br/><br/>"Hell broke out in dis muthafucka. But we couldn't leave knowing ya ass was still breathin'!" The sight of them told him even more. They were wearing guard clothes, carried weapons, and had blood stained on their clothes. This was completely in the prisoner's control. "Drag his ass out 'ere!" The leader shouted which caused the other three to rush into the room, that was where he had them. Xavier rushed forward to intercept the first one and block his block. He wasn't as fast as he use to be, but it was still enough to shock the men he was fighting. He drew back his left hand and struck out making sure to use his shoulders and rotation.<br/><br/>Instantly he felt the give when his fist connected, heard the snapping sounds, and the man crying out. This wasn't the ring though, this wasn't boxing. These techniques were good, but they couldn't hold up in the wild. So when he stood up, he grabs the back of the man's head who was doubled over holding his side. Xavier nearly jumped up off his feet as he slams his knee into the face of the first man. Dead weight was all he felt next. A few minutes later he was walking out of the cell where he left his former opponents. Whether they were dead or unconscious he couldn't say. He used the back of his hand to wipe the blood from his lip and nose. Proof he wasn't invincible and that he was getting sloppy.<br/><br/>Afterward...........<br/><br/>It became quickly understood what had happened. Dead decayed corpse littered the grounds of the prison along with the bodies of the guards. From the remaining prisoners, he heard what had happened. Hell had decided to visit them and turns out, evil already resided here. Well that was the words of the boasting inmates. Men who moved around like they owned the place and in fact they did.<br/><br/>They must have just won because everyone was in a good mood, bring a mild peace to the place. Soon Xavier had found the armory which looked like a tornado hit it, it was clear they hit the place up. He managed to find himself a change of clothes, putting on some dark blue pants and some combat boots. There wasn't a shirt or vest anywhere in the place. It seemed he hadn't been forgot by god when he discovered a shotgun laying under a pile of prison clothes. It was clear it had been forgotten. He grabbed it and a few shells he found laying around the floor.<br/><br/>There wasn't a single word of protest or curiosity as Xavier walked out of prison and through the gates to freedom. Today he wasn't meant to die.<br/><br/>A few Days Later.......<br/><br/>Xavier had found himself a black tee-shirt in a ravaged store at the next town, grabbed a machete from a hardware store. That allowed him to save on shells as he made the travel back to the home of his family. He figured out a few useful tips on his travel. One most vehicles didn't work, was out of gas, or banged up. Two it was easier to walk in the morning since more of them came out at night. Three to never let your guard down.<br/><br/>These helped him make the journey back home and gave him that much more of a joy when he seen the familiar house. He could already imagine playing with his kids on the front road, or performing acts with his ex girlfriend on the front porch. The woman broke up with him his second year in prison and even tried to take full custody of the kids. He lost all love for her. In truth, he never thought he'd laid eyes on this place again.<br/><br/>All that was shattered when he got closer to it and noticed the door was hanging off the hinges. Saw the blood smears on the front door and on the carpet as he entered. It was a war zone. Panic traveled through him like a grenade had went off. The shotgun slid from his left shoulder as he rushed through the house shouting the names of his kids. No answer. He couldn't even take joy in the fact fact that he hadn't found blood anywhere else or the lack of bodies.<br/><br/>This couldn't be happening. This was too cruel. How could he be given a chance to live only to have the one thing he wanted taken from him. It was getting hard to think, he began to struggle to breath, and his blood was pumping faster than it ever had before. "Calm down.....relax....think." He tried to tell himself. These weren't normal kids, these were his children he was talking about. They weren't dead, they're too smart for this. After he managed to calm himself down a little, he went back downstairs where the answer machine caught his eye.<br/><br/>It was flipped over, and hanging off the table. He pressed the button to replay the voice mails. After four messages, it seemed like nothing was important. On his way to the kitchen, his eldest daughter's voice rang out. "Hey ma, I hope you safe and don't worry bout us. Gran-Gran has a bomb shelter, so we safe. I hope dads okay...bye mom." Joy and relief washed over him and filled him with air. Gran-Gran was what they called his mother, which meant they were in DC. He fell to his knees, thanking god for this small blessing.<br/><br/>Two Weeks Later and Present Day........<br/><br/>Four vehicles, two rides, and a one group of survivors later he had reached the sign welcoming him to the country's captial. Five shells remained of his shotgun, his machete had split through the limbs and bodies of damn near countless zombies, and blood on his boots and pants had long sense dried up. For right now, he needed to find a place to rest. His kids were safe for now so there was no point in rushing himself. With a deep slow breath to help calm himself, he continued down the main road. His shotgun hung on his left shoulder by the strap and his blade held out to his right side, always at the ready.