Nathan slowly peeked around the corner to see through the glass of the door, but it was as dark inside as it was out; only basic shapes could be distinguished. He hated this part: the apprehension before the scare. It was worse than the scare itself. He always kept calm when the worst was happening, but he could worry himself bald waiting for it. Always thinking, "Just around the next corner. Okay, this next corner. Through that door. Under the stairs. Did that shadow just move?" But that was what surviving these days was: perpetual terror.<br/><br/>Forcing himself into a sort of adrenaline fueled calm, he pushed open the door, ever so slowly, with the end of his shotgun, and crept inside as quietly as he could, all the while thanking whatever unnatural forces which preserved him that the door didn't creak. That was the hard part. Once inside, he slowly removed his bag and propped the door open with it. If he had to run, he could always find a new bag, but he'd want an open door waiting for him. It was a small gas-station and looked about like all the others he had been to: empty bags and boxes everywhere and all the food and water long since taken. A quick survey, lead by his shotgun, showed that the only thing left was half a case of beer somebody had ripped open.<span style="font-style: italic"> Disappointing, but alright. If this goes as planned, I might like a couple.</span><br/><br/>Taking a couple brews, Nathan returned to his bag and crept around behind the station as cautiously as he could. He was glad for the rain. It made it hard for him to see, but also for them. And even better, he'd heard that they--they were always just "they" in Nathan's mind--could smell living flesh like a dog. The rain would make that impossible.<br/><br/>The caps weren't hard to find, even in the rain. Small metal disks in the ground with oversized  round keyholes. They were just under a singular metal trapdoor. The lids to the underground tank that would hold all the stations gasoline. Perfect. Opening his bag, Nathan took out two plastic bags connected with wire. The larger of the two he dropped on one of the round caps. Inside were three small batteries, a circuit board from a remote controlled plane and a sock filled with ground rust, powdered aluminum and two 4th of July sparklers. He then closed the lid and left the other bag on top. It held the siren from a police-car.<br/><br/>Satisfied, the young pyrotechnist cautiously made his way back down the street again, shotgun first. It was only just over a block, but he was pleasantly amazed to come across no trouble. Not until he tried crossing the street. Being out in the open just sucked, so Nathan always chose to cross where there was plenty of wreckage. But this time, it just wasn't good enough. He didn't even see it: one of "them." He was right in the middle of the four lanes when he heard a plop and turned his head to see a bloated zombie struggling to pull itself out of a puddle not thirty yards away.<br/><br/>Without a moments hesitation, Nathan dropped behind a car, painfully reminiscent of his old girl ditched back in Ohio for a jeep that could go off road. He peered under the front end and watched the creature pick itself back up, slowly, as if it hadn't noticed him. That was good, but now he was trapped out in the open. His hopes dropped drastically as the thing picked itself back up to just stand there in the rain. There was no way Nate could leave his cover without being given away and he couldn't risk staying there all night.<span style="font-style: italic">Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck FUCK!</span>he thought to himself.<span style="font-style: italic">Alright, five more minutes--</span>he checked his watch<span style="font-style: italic">--then I just go for it. I can take just one of them and then the siren will distract any that heard me.</span>He decided, tapping his fingers nervously on the gun before checking under the car again. Yup, still standing there....and then he saw it. A black shape moving down the center of the street toward. It waddled in a way that made it all to obvious what it was, and it was on the opposite side as the first. The only reason it hadn't noticed Nathan sitting there yet was that he wasn't moving and the rain was blurring together colors and shapes, but that wouldn't last long. He wouldn't have five minutes.<br/><br/>Nathan closed his eyes and cursed quietly. He knew his chances of survival had just dropped below fifty percent; he wouldn't even have time to set off the siren now. But, to his surprise, he didn't regret setting it up. It was still a smart move. He was just sad it wasn't smart enough. And now.....<br/><br/>His thoughts trailed off to be replaced by others. Others that were much less depressing.<span style="font-style: italic">Was that a gunshot?</span>It had come from farther down the road, causing the zombie moving towards him to stop and turn around. A moment later, he heard one of them bellow and the beast Nathan had been so terrified of spotting him just dashed off the other way with a bellow and a moan of its own. And a few moments after that, the one that had fallen dashed past his hiding spot and never looked back. Now, like a cornered rat seeing an opening that could close at any moment, Nathan dashed out of cover toward his goal without even checking for more of them. Hopefully, if any saw him running, they would just think him one more zombie running toward a meal.<br/><br/>And there it was, the bookstore. Nathan's makeshift home for the past few days. He flung open the door, slid in, closed it, and bolted it up. He had pushed a bookshelf up against the wall where the stairs were so you couldn't even tell they were there. He pulled it aside with a heave before stepping through and pulling it back into place. The second floor was similar, then there was nothing all the way up to the fifth floor, which had been the store owners apartment. This is where Nathan went. He dropped his bag on the floor and pulled out the remote control plane remote; that he set on the dresser before he went to the window. Two more zombies dashed past far below and he was glad for his fortifications. He just wished he'd found some food. His last meal had been a can of gravy, which just made him miss bread all the more, but you couldn't even find flour anymore.<br/><br/>Then he thought of the gunshot. Nathan hadn't met many good people....or...well...any. The last group he'd been with ha taken him hostage and threatened to kill him every day. That's why he ran. But there weren't many people left, and just having people out there killing zombies was better than letting them die, right?<br/><br/>Nathan stared blankly at the street for a few more seconds, not knowing if it was worth it. He had just set this up a few minutes ago, after all, to save himself when the time came. But when another infected ran past he stood up and grabbed the remote from the dresser. He flipped one switch before he even got back to the window, and the police siren went off immediately. The infected in the street stopped and looked confused. A moment later, it turned around with a moan and ran toward the gas station instead. The siren was loud, too, and drowned out the moans of the infected. Before long, there was a dozen, at least down the street and more coming.<br/><br/>"I just hope this wasn't wasted." He said to himself, just before he flipped the second switch. He couldn't see it, but he new the steel cap was being melted away. Five seconds later, a massive explosion rocked the building. Even through the rain, Nathan could feel the heat more than a block aways. He could see the zombies running, flaming into the street. He smiled. Still he was never able to make himself hate them any more than one can hate the tornado that tore down your home. They were a force or nature, but he hated them, none the less, and liked to see them die if only because they wouldn't do any more harm.