<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'">"Thats thirty-four tonight Mikey boy, I think I'm winning." Kenneth's voice was barely audible over the thunder clap shots emitted by the M1 Garands wielded in the pair of men's hands. Another clap resonated through the air, followed by a cursing grumble as the Colonel missed a shot. "Still winning."<br/>
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"You may be winning Colonel, but is that a gray hair I see?" the private jested at his Colonel as he aimed down the iron sight of his rifle, trying to get a beat on a stumbling zombie. <br/>
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"If it is, it's from baby-sitting you pansy bastards." Michael chuckled back, blowing the head off another undead walker. "I'm going to check the radio feed, Call in for Sanders to get on duty when you see him." The private nodded in understanding, and Kenneth was on his way. He rolled off the stacked boxes, landing on solid concrete some few feet below. Dark combat boots grinded against loose gravel, and the military man made his was into the nearest building, seemingly a reception office. <br/>
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Colonel Kenneth Gladney was the man in charge in Camp Pendleton, at least for now. When he had arrived, almost everybody had been dead, sort of. It hadn't been hard to set up a barrier around the Camp, natural terrain making entry inaccessible for the most part anyway. The rest was covered in barbed wire and other fences. The hard part had been clearing out the people who didn't want to stay dead, and saving those who had managed to dling to life. Now, the rag tag team ran the camp, and broadcasted every day hourly on both long and short range radios, once on every frequency before relinquishing for till the following hour. <br/>
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Sitting down in the wooden chair, Kenneth ran a hand through his short brown hair, a long sigh forcing it's way through his lips. "Okay, let's get this over with." Picking up the com, he put it to his lips while adjusting the frequencies of the multiple radios he had connected to the link. "Is anyone out there?" He mummbled hopelessly, letting the static sit for a moment before speaking again. "I repeat, is anyone out there? This is Colonel Kenneth Gladney of the U.S. Marine Corps. Broadcasting live from Camp Pendleton. Does anybody read?" Once again the static played out. "We offer food, shelter, and protection from the infection. If there is anyone out there, please respond." Static. <br/>
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Michael grunted and through down the com, sitting back in the seat with a tired look. He'd been at this too long, and he felt the time starting to wear on this. Now, just to sit through the static and pray for a miracle. He wondered these days if there was even anyone left.</span>