Jake caught Marcus's swig out of the corner of his eye and gave him a quick sneer as he readied his rifle.  "For Christ's sake, put that fucking thing away!  You can drink yourself to death when we are a little more secure, but for now I need you to stay clear."  He turned away and went back to observing the dead through his binoculars.<br/><br/>Jake watched as the troop of dead slowly walked towards the cooling helicopter.  They looked like some sort of motley gang all shambling together.  As they got closer he could make out more detail: two middle aged women and a man in dirty casual clothes, a young man in what was distinctly a bloody McDonald's uniform, a very fat woman in a pink mu mu, and bringing up the rear an old black man in a worn suit.  The last man made Jake pause as he looked an awful lot like his father.  He hadn't thought a lot about what happened to his parents since Zday.  Knowing his dad, he would have tried to defend the family store and was most likely shambling around like this poor bastard several hundred miles away.<br/><br/>Jake's daydreaming stopped when the zombie gang made it to the helicopter and started pounding on the sides.  They seemed to watch to see if they actions would cause anything inside to move.  One zombie, McDonald's boy, started jumping to try to grab a rotor blade as it slowly swung in the breeze.<br/><br/>Jake turned back to Marcus.  "Keep very quiet.  They may just go back the way they came."  He paused and made deliberate eye contact with the pilot.  "I'm going to keep a tight watch on them.  I need you to keep your head on a swivel and make sure nobody sneaks up behind us.  OK?"