"Times up," Bill said. They all rose to their feet, and a chill ran down her spine as the grim expressions surrounding her. Something had changed in fifteen minutes. There wouldn't be any petty squabbling from here on out.

If that horde they'd narrowly avoided was any hint of what was between them and the farmhouse, they'd need every ounce of focus.

Zoey checked her pistols and nodded at Bill, promising herself that she'd be insufferably immature if they made it through this, to make up for lost time.

They moved out of the shed as one, a well oiled machine. No bullets strayed, nobody fell out of step, and nobody chattered.

"Barn," Louis observed as they made their way along the overgrown path.

"Forget it," Bill said, "Let's see if we end up at the tracks again."

They slid past the barn cautiously. A terrible smell was wafting out of it, and as they came around the broad side of it, the piles of bloated cattle definitely seemed to be the source of the stink. For some bizarre reason, the flesh had been stripped off of their faces.

Nobody commented.

Further down the path they came to a cliff, though handily, there was a traincar even with it that they used to climb down.

"Coulda just kept movin' down the tracks," Bill muttered.

"You kiddin'?" Francis protested as they prowled down the tracks, eyeing the gloomy buildings warily, "You remember all those goddamn zombies back there? They were probably all here. We just took a shortcut."

"Guys, I don't mean to scare you, but I think Francis is right," Louis said. A low chuckle rolled through them, but it was short, crisp, almost obligatory. Their thoughts were focusing sharply on the pile up of train cars ahead of them.

"More mashed up cars," Louis said, "Think we can get around through that house?"

"Yep," Bill said, "Let's do it."

They eased around the rubble and down the stairs to the back door, opening it onto a bloodbath that Zoey was certain had never been captured in even the goriest B-movie. She actually turned away a moment, the sheer level of violence in the basement staggering.

Someone had made a hell of a last stand in a corner, firing up a lawn mower and letting the infected try to get past it and at him. Whatever had happened to the poor soul who'd done it, she was pretty sure they had died with full bad ass points.

"I woulda paid t'see this go down," Francis commented, nudging chunks of zombie with a boot.

"Maybe in slo-mo," Zoey said in spite of herself. Bill hushed them and started up the stairs. The entire inside of the house was trashed, and Zoey couldn't decide if it was from a previous struggle, or caused by the mass exodus of infected when they heard the train car hit the bridge not long ago.

"Down here," Bill said, leaning out a window and pointing, "Look, the tracks keep going. There's a lit train car at the end."

He knelt as the others crowded around behind him on the awning, peering through the scope of his rifle to get a better look.

"I'll be goddamned," he said, "It's a safehouse."

"Another one?" Louis said, "It's like we're back in the city again."

"Means a lot of folks have been through," Bill agreed, "Seems like a pretty goddamn good sign to me. I'll take it."

They hopped back onto the ground one at a time and jogged for the caboose. Every step on the bridge seemed like an opportunity for things to take a wrong turn, but soon enough they were packed into the train car like cattle and Francis was shutting the door behind him.

The interior was scrawled with graffiti, many of them final messages to loved ones they obviously hoped were close behind. How many of the authors were outside now, infected? She ran her fingers over one that touched her in particular, brow creased.

Travis

Kids are fine

I love you

E

When was the last time she'd seen a kid? She'd tried not to think about it, especially after the rest stop, but whoever E was, she must've been all kinds of badass to make it this far with kids in tow.

Maybe they'd get to see them in the safe zone.

"The hell is all this Echo shit, anyway?" Francis asked, scowling at the opposite wall.

"Probably a code name," Bill said, peering out the far end of the caboose, "We're close now."

"How can yah be sure?"

"Lookit the writing, Francis," he said, "This was obviously a holdout fer people leggin' it to the evac zone. We're just at th' tail end."

"How bad is it?" Louis asked, coming up behind Bill.

"There're a few," Bill frowned, "But we got enough bullets to get there. Might be supplies at the outpost."

"If it's still there," Francis said warily, "Seems to me like everyone got turned into goddamn zombies."

"You gonna stay here, then, Francis?" Bill asked, eyeballing the biker. Francis steeled himself and shook his head.

"Just sayin'," he said, "We shouldn't get too excited."

"If nothin' else, it'll be a place to hold out for awhile to plan our next move," the veteran said., "Let's not spend to long thinkin' about it either way."

"I'm down with that," Louis said, absently touching the scratch on his cheek, "Get some more space between us and what's left of that horde back there."

They took a few minutes to get ready, checking ammo, downing the last of their bottled water, and trying not to wonder too much about the writing on the inside of the caboose. The comments about Riverside made her heart hurt. What if her parents would have some how made it if she'd insisted they go there instead?

God, don't think about that now, she scolded herself, One thing at a time.

"If shit goes down, we'll retreat back here, deal?" Bill said. He was met with three resolute nods, "All right then, people, let's move!"

Zoey followed after Bill in a low-slung jog, eyes everywhere but her feet. They knew better than to trip her up by now, and she'd come to trust them to take her where she needed to go. She tried not to think too positively about how the gravel they were crunching over looked well traveled, how there were so very few infected still loitering around the tracks. None in fatigues, either. At least none that she noticed.

"Holy shit, guys," Francis said as they jogged up to a red car that had been shoved up against a small cliff, "I think we're gonna make it."

CAUTION!, twin signs shouted out to them YOU ARE NOW ENTERING A U.S. MILITARY EVACTUATION OUTPOST.

"Oh my god," Zoey breathed. Her heart did a flip-flop, and in spite of everything, in spite of the fact that there was a zombie standing very ironically next to one of the signs, she pumped both fists into the air, "Oh my god, YES!"

She started laughing and hugged Louis, pinning one of his arms to his sides, making him laugh as well.

"Eh? Toldya we'd make it," Francis told Bill smugly, earning him a cuff on the back of the head. The biker suffered it with a broad grin.

"Okay, okay, let's not get too excited," Bill said, the cheer in his voice not terribly well concealed, "Let's not get cocky. We still gotta get there, right?"

"Right," Zoey said, "Let's hustle!"

She felt a renewed bounce in her step. Even though it was very late at night, everything seemed more vibrant, more alive. It was amazing, the magical properties hope had.

They were here. They'd made it.

The path wound around and they picked off zombies, laughing, joking, calling out 'Marco!' for the military to come and find them.

All her laughter and good cheer choked out of her the second they came up to the drop off that led straight into a corn field. She was vaguely aware of bright, angry warnings on the sign at the very edge, but she was too busy trying to convince herself that what she was seeing was real.

"What?" Francis asked her, "It's just corn. We're home free, check it out."

He pointed to the farmhouse that was barely visible in the distance. It wasn't so far away, really.

"Can you see a damn thing down there?" she asked pointedly, "In the corn rows?"

Francis' expression faltered and he looked at the others.

"It's just corn," Bill insisted, "C'mon, let's get to that farmhouse."

"Here, I'll help yah down," Francis offered, putting a hand out to her. She turned to face him, intent on shooting him an incredulous look. As if she couldn't make a small drop by herselwhat the fuck was that?

"LOOK OUT!" she shouted just as a chunk of twisted metal came sailing at them. Zoey loathed that her first reaction was to fling herself down into the corn rows while the other's whirled to look. Why hadn't she at least tried to tug one of them down with her!? Before she had much more time to think about it, she had a face full of dirt, the corn glowering down at her.

There were cries of alarm and pain as Zoey struggled to get to her feet while they slid on the loose dirt, and she looked around wildly. All she could see was corn, more corn... she couldn't even see the edge of what she'd leapt off of.

"Run for the farmhouse!" she could hear Bill yelling, "Get- yaugh!"

"Bill!"

"Suck on this you ugly motherfucker!" Francis hollered.

She heard glass shattering, and then she saw fire blossoming off to her left. They were over there. Francis had thrown a Molotov at the thing to distract it. It's bellow rang out into the dead night.

Run, run to the farmhouse, her self preservation urged, Run run run it's distracted, get away!

She could hear Bill's rifle firing rapidly, Louis' machine gun whining, and the steady thoom of a shotgun. They were fighting for their lives while she just sat in the dirt, paralyzed with fear.

Zoey heard growling off to her right and whipped her head around. She had a split second to recoil as she came face to face with something that had very, very sharp teeth. For a moment, for the few seconds before it was on top of her, tearing at her soft flesh, she was convinced it was grinning at her.

She didn't even realize she was screaming at first, shoving ineffectively at the creature as it sat on top of her, pinning her down to the ground so it could gleefully glide its claws through her flesh and clothing. There was no rhyme or reason to its attacks – it was merely shredding her, enjoying it, reveling in her screams.

Thousands of things ran through her mind, her brain trying to someone distract from the pain that was searing through her body with each swipeit's smiling it's smiling oh god it's aware of what it's doing zombies aren't allowed they aren't allowed to be aware!!

"You little fuck!" someone shouted, "Get offa her!"

There was a loud noise (what was it was it another thing) and then the pain had stopped, but she kept screaming, kept fighting, terrified she was hallucinating, that her brain had given up and wanted her to succumb, but she wouldn't! She would not stop fighting!

"Stop freakin' out Zoey this ain't the best time!" Francis shouted at her, grabbing the sides of her head rather roughly and giving her a shake, "Lookit me! Hey! Look!'

Zoey cringed and blinked her eyes open, sure she'd see the hunter's terrible rictus, its dead white eyes, her own blood splashed across its face.

Brown eyes were there instead, frame by a heavy brow and partnered with a concerned, worried frown.

"F-f-francis?" she chattered. Zoey stared at him, wide eyed, not even sure she could trust what she was seeing.

He looked relieved, and she barely noticed that he brushed his lips against her forehead ("Thank fuckin' Christ," he muttered under his breath) before helping her up, "C'mon, can you walk? Yeah, you can, come on, Louis drew that thing off and we gotta find Bill. BILL! Scream 'r somethin'!"

"Over here!" a thin voice called back. A beam of light waggled out of the corn – Bill's flashlight.

Zoey leaned heavily on Francis as she walked, and noticed that he was limping.

"Where's Louis?" she asked in a daze, "Where did Louis go?"

"I dunno," he said, flicking an uncertain look at her, "Keep wavin' yer flashlight Bill, we're comin'!"

They found Bill near a tractor, where he'd apparently dragged himself. His teeth were grit, and cloth of the pants around his knee had gone dark with blood.

"Aw, hell, Bill," Francis said, concern creeping into his voice.

"It's just fucked up," the veteran said quickly, "Shrapnel from that scrap metal th'thing through. I'll be fine. Help me up. Where's Louis?"

"That's... Bill, that's a lot of blood," the biker said, bending down to help him up anyway.

"I'm fuckin fine," the veteran snapped, "I tied it off, see? Just gotta help me hobble around... Jeeezus Christ, what happened to you, Zoey?"

"Hunter," Francis said with a dark scowl, "Got t'her just in time."

"Glad you got your priorities straight," Bill laughed weakly, "Should we head to the farmhouse?"

"Got nowhere else t'go," Francis said. Zoey propped up with one arm, Bill with the other, the biker made his way slowly through the corn and towards the farmhouse. He stopped when they reached the edge of the corn and goggled at what he was seeing.

Somehow Louis was on top of the barn, uzi aimed straight down at the tank. The tank was, in fact, still on fire, and its movements looked sluggish at best, swatting half heartedly at the bullets a few times before it slumped into the barn with a defeated groan.

"Yeah! YEAH!" Louis howled, throwing his arms up, "Don't fuck with ME! Shit yeah!"

"Killin' those things is definitely hardcore," Francis said with great relief, "LOUIS! Get your bad ass down here!"

"Oh, shit!" Louis exclaimed, squinting at them, "One second!"

He disappeared from view a moment and then came jogging out, hardly any worse for wear.

"Oh, man, you guys look fucked up," he fussed, going to Zoey first.

"Hey," Francis said, startling the businessman into looking up at him again, "I got this one. You get the old guy."

Louis smirked at him and stepped around, putting a shoulder under one of Bill's arms and helping him along.

Both arms free, Francis scooped Zoey up with a grimace. Being flung off of a rise onto the hard earth hadn't been terribly kind to him, but he'd made out a lot better than Bill.

"I can walk," she said quietly.

"Ain't it manlier t'carry yah though?" he wondered, not waiting for her to answer and nodding at a sign near the front door, "Look."

"Outpost Echo, what'd I tell yah?" Bill said, doing his best to cover his winces as Louis helped him up the steps, "Let's see if there's a radio inside."

Louis and Bill were inside first, the former sitting the latter down on a tattered, worn out couch. The floorboards looked like they'd been tracked over by hundreds of shoes, and the feeling of hope started to creep back into her.

"This is an emergency broadcast from the U.S. Military," a radio laid out the kitchen table crackled, "Please respond. I repeat, this is an emergency broadcast from the American Safety Zone. Please respond if you are there."

"Go fer it," Francis said. Zoey wriggled a little, trying to get onto her feet, but Francis gave her a light squeeze and shook her head. She flushed a little, confused, but didn't argue.

Louis hovered over the radio a moment, reverent, and pressed the talkback button.

"Uh, this is... we are four immunes, here at outpost Echo," Louis said, speaking carefully and building confidence, "We need immediate evac and medical attention."

There was silence, and then a shocked, "Holy shit! Captain! We got somebody alive out there!"

"Four immunes," Louis said, grimacing and adding, "Uhm, over."

"Don't worry about that, son," Bill said. His voice was strained and he looked pale in the dim light of the farmhouse, "They'll read yah."

"We read you loud and clear, survivors!" the radio operator said. He sounded ecstatic, and Zoey was pretty sure it was a good sign, "We're scrambling an extraction team ASAP! You just sit tight and hang in there. There should be first aid and assault rifles upstairs."

"Assault rifles?" Bill said, looking upwards, as though he could somehow smell them.

"How long?" Louis asked, "We're pretty messed up. Been hounded the whole damn way here."

"Ten minutes once the team heads out," the operator assured him, "You just need to hang in there and dig in. The engine of the APC is like a dinner bell for those things out there – they'll probably swarm. That whole area is a hotbed for the damned things."

"Aw, hell," Bill muttered. Zoey couldn't see him from her perch in Francis' arms, but she could hear his lighter flick a few times before he managed to light up.

"Roger that," Louis said, "Give us a few minutes to get ready, then?"

"You just give me a holler and I'll send em out!"

"Well ain't he cheerful?" Francis said, "Let's have a look upstairs."

Louis stepped away from the radio and went to help Bill up, and the four of them made their way upstairs. Zoey wondered if the people who'd owned this house were safe and sound, or if the army had found them shambling around and bumping into walls.

"In here," Louis called out from the main bedroom, "Six rifles."

"First aid in the bathroom," Francis called out, flipping down the toilet lid before setting her down on it. She shifted awkwardly (he'd saved her, he'd kissed her back there, he smelled like burnt zombie) as he grabbed a stack of kits and left the room a moment, presumably handing them off to Louis before he returned and picked up another, crouching down in front of her.

"Thanks, Francis," she said hoarsely, "For um, saving me."

"Now we're even," he said gently, "How bad it is? Yer bleedin' through yer shirt."

"I dunno," she admitted, gingerly unzipping the hoody and shrugging it off. All the movement strained the long cuts and she hissed, forcing herself not to squeak or whine in front of him.

"He got you good," Francis frowned, opening the first aid kit, "I ain't as good as Bill, but I've had to use one a'these fuckin kits more than once in my time."

He smirked at some distant memory and pulled out some gauze and disinfectant.

"Francis?" Zoey asked while he gingerly lifted up the edge of her shirt and dabbed at a deep scratch.

"Huh?" he grunted, laying a thick strip of gauze over the scratch and tearing off some tape with his teeth.

"What did Bill talk to you about?"

He didn't respond right away, regarding her warily, and finished one bandage before he cut off another strip of gauze.

"I think you prolly got the gist a' that conversation," Francis finally said, dressing another wound and clearing his throat, "I ain't gonna bullshit you, all right? I been starin' at yer ass for most of the trip, but... it ain't... ahhh, fuck."

He grit his teeth and continued to tend to her scratches, and she could see him mentally kicking himself. Zoey felt a half smile twitch onto her face in spite of his bungling.

"I ain't good at this kinda shit," he said gruffly.

"Just be honest," she suggested, wincing as he cleaned out a deep scratch with antiseptic, "Don't bullshit me, like you said."

"Yer hot, and yer' smart, and I don't want nothin' bad t'happen t'ya," Francis said in a rush, not making eye contact with her as he spoke, "But I know that... Jesus Christ, I'm forty two years old. I feel like I'm gonna get arrested in a second."

Zoey was startled by his age. Not because it put them at a twenty-four year difference (oh Jesus he was twenty-four years older than she was that was so wrong), but because it was a number she was very familiar with.

All this time she had been hanging around with the meaning of life, the universe, and everything. How apt was that?

"So, just... I mean, you can just get used t'me bein' kinda creepy around you, cause I can't fuckin' help myself," Francis continued to growl.

She reached out a hand then and touched the side of his face lightly, making him jerk away in surprise for a moment. Zoey thought he looked like an animal with his leg caught in a bear trap, and she slowly moved her hand back into place. She gently traced her fingers over his goatee and then back along a heavy cheekbone, tilting her head at him.

He swallowed hard and shifted uncomfortably.

It was kind of wrong. If he'd walked up to her in a bar or on the street not too long ago, she would probably call the police. Under normal circumstances, hell, even abnormal circumstances, she'd be wholly repulsed by the idea, largely because it wasn't the least bit romantic or fluffy or sparkly. Most of his motivations were, by his own admission, because he was physically attracted to her. She was a pert, sassy young thing who was clearly arrogant enough to assume she could handle a relationship with a much older man without it going down in flames.

Despite his whining and his chauvinism, though, he'd stuck by all of them. He'd thrown himself in harms way time and time again and hadn't let it get him down. He'd looked after her even though she'd treated him scornfully in return.

An unfixable fixer-upper.

"Francis?"

"Yeah?" he asked, voice thick.

"If we survive this," she said, a mischievous smile curling her lips, "We are so gonna make out on the back of a tank."

"Huh... bwuh?" he said, looking at her like she'd just told him he had prostate cancer, "Wait, seriously?"

"If you do anything extra heroic, I might even pencil you in for an apocalypse baby," Zoey said glibly, "But that'd be for the sequel if the first movie does well in the box office. Making out on a tank at sunset, though, that's the perfect ending to this movie. Maybe the tank is even firing at zombies in the background."

"You're fuckin' with me," he said with a scowl, "You an' your movie shit. C'mon, gimme a break, Zoey."

"Do you think I'm fucking with you?"

"...yes?" his scowl twitched into an uncertain smile.

"I guess you'd better live so you can find out," she said, getting to her feet with a wince. He'd bandaged up the nastier scratches, but they still stung.

"You're a fuckin' tease," he told her even as his eyes gleamed in amusement, sticking a hand out, "Shake on it, then."

"I'm only shaking on the make-outs," she defined, grabbing his hand and giving it a solid shake, "I at least owe you that after all of this. We'll see how things go from there."

He smirked, shook her hand, and then reached out to muss up her hair. Zoey grinned, confident that she'd circumvented all their horrible deaths with her deal. She was glib and cheeky in the face of death! Ho ho ho!

"Holdin' you to it," he said, poking her her nose with a finger, "Yer cute ass ain't gettin' out of it."

"Are you two done?" Bill wondered from the door, making both of them look over guiltily. Francis hadn't bothered shutting the door.

"Yeah think so," Francis said, hitching his pants a little, "We doin' this?"

"We're gonna hole up in the hall here, close all the doors," Bill said, "We've got enough rifles and ammo t'mow through a small army, s'hopefully it's enough. When they get here we'll just scoot downstairs and out th'door and get the hell outta Dodge."

"Sounds good to me," Francis said, clapping his hands together, "Let's get this show on the road."

"Check these out," Louis said, handing one of the rifles to Francis, "Just like in a movie, right Zoey? Don't get much more movies than an assault rifle."

"Jesus Christ enough with the movie shit!" Francis exclaimed, exasperated, "Maybe you two should make out instead!"

"Huh?" Louis said, eyeballing Zoey.

"She's gettin' it on with me on the back of a tank if we live," Francis informed Louis, expression smug.

"Only making out!" Zoey protested, shoving at him. He didn't budge an inch. She couldn't pretend to be disgusted by his gleeful lack of shame, however. It made her laugh too hard.

"Yeah, an' if you do anythin' badass," he continued, grinning broadly, "She'll mark yah down for an apocalypse baby. She's takin' orders! Chick is organized!"

"Francis!"

"Ohh, you're in trouble already man," Louis laughed.

Their laughter was nervous, their banter thin and wan as Bill watched them. He had a ghost of a smile on his face, but it brought her no comfort. Maybe she ought to be savoring these moments a bit more instead of making light of them.

"Ready for this?" Bill asked.

"Yeah," Louis said, "I'll go radio em'."

Francis put an arm around her shoulder and squeezed and she smiled up at him, squeezing his hand before going over to hug Bill.

"Man, Bill, you gotta tell me yer secret," he said, no malice in his voice, "All I get is handshakes."

"Hey, kiddo," Bill said quietly, squeezing her back tightly, "We're gonna make. Nobody left behind. Right?"

"Right," she said, "I never... I never really thanked you guys, by the way. For rescuing me from my dorm."

"Wouldn't change a thing if I could do it twice," the veteran said warmly, "You're a good kid, Zoey."

"Thank me later on the back a' the tank," Francis said. His hand was resting on the small of her back. It felt comfortable there.

"Do I wanna know?" Bill wondered.

"Not really."

"I warned yah 'bout him, kid."

"They're comin' guys," Louis said, "Said that we got about five minutes before the zombies start freakin' out."

"Good," Bill said, easing himself down at the top of the stairs with a grimace. Once he was set up, he reached into his front pocket and tapped out the last smoke in his packet, "Just enough time t'finish this one off."

Zoey crouched down with the others while Bill smoked, concentrating hard as Louis showed her and Francis how to operate the rifle properly. The veteran was quietly impressed with Louis' knowledge, making it known by only occasionally nodding at what he was saying.

She wasn't looking forward to firing it. It was going to hurt her shoulder and rattle her teeth in her skull, but it was only for about five minutes, right? That wasn't such a long time.

Nobody spoke when the all-too-familiar howling rolled in on a soft breeze, accompanying the soft rustling of corn. Zoey shifted her position a bit, checking the gun, frowning slightly. No matter how determined she sounded in her mind just now, everything was blank.

She was here with her new family. They had guns, and they had high ground, and they were going to have to do some shooting. Bill was savoring his cigarette, contemplating it as he held it between two fingers. It was such a natural gesture, such an easy one, and she envied that he had something so familiar to hold onto.

Louis looked grim and nervous, but his eyes were determined. His confidence had only flagged once, and she could hardly count it against him. If anyone was convinced they would be making it out of this alive, it was him.

Francis was watching her, and when she looked at him, he winked back. His hard lined face seemed to come alive when he smiled, his harsh scowls softening into something gentle, almost vulnerable. Maybe she was biased, reading too much into him, but in this moment, nobodies age or past mattered. They were in this together, to the bitter end.

Nobody would be left behind.

Bam. Bambamcracksmash.

A hand burst through the door and she smirked at it. She'd jumped off her balcony to get away from something like that not too long ago, hadn't she? Zoey braced the rifle against her shoulder and dared the infected to just try her.

It was slow at first. They charged inside in small clumps, easily dispatched. There was time to reload, time to kick away the spent shells and rub their ringing ears. Time to check on each other, make sure everyone was holding it together.

Zoey wasn't even certain when things started to get out of hand. She didn't even feel entirely part of the action as she squeezed the trigger. Small bursts. When it started to pull, release, re-acquire, and squeeze. Brace it against her shoulder again if it felt like it was slipping. Lead the target.

They were upstairs now. The front stairs were too crowded, too thick with bodies both zombies and zombie corpses, and so they'd scaled the walls and burst in the windows.

Louis and herself were covering the doors now, Francis and Bill manning the stairs.

How many minutes had gone by? It felt like hours. It felt like forever.

Bill barked orders. They obeyed. The stockpile of ammunition dwindled. She wasn't aware of her body anymore, not her sore finger, her throbbing shoulder, her ringing ears. There were only the infected, and her family, and the guns.

"Hey, hey! Listen to that!" Louis shouted over the rifle fire, pausing to shove a zombie back before shooting at it, "Sounds like an engine!"

"That's our ride, ladies!" Francis bellowed. He had taken over for Bill, the soldier having shouted himself hoarse not too long ago. Or maybe he'd lost to much blood.

"I'll cover you," Bill said, gritting his teeth when he tried to move his leg.

"Like hell," he said, "That's breakin' the rules!"

"We can't move until they stop!" Louis said, "I... Jesus, why is the house shakin'? Is that the APC?"

It wasn't until she saw the section of house visible from the stairs buckle in that Zoey realized she wasn't in some kind of surreal nightmare – they were surrounded by a relentless horde of zombies, their ride was rolling up, and another one of those massive things was there. Hadn't they just killed one? Maybe that had been someone else. It all bled together now, and all she knew was that they were moving away from it.

"Guess we ain't takin' the stairs!" Francis exclaimed, shouldering his rifle and picking Bill up like he was a sack of potatoes, slinging the veteran over his shoulder, "Let's cheese it!"

Louis and Zoey fell in behind Francis as he hurried for the master bedroom. The window had been broken out, and that suited him fine. He stepped out onto the awning that hung out around the porch.

"Jump down," Francis said, "Take Bill."

"Goddammit Francis I ain't an invalid!"

"Shut up, Bill," Francis said, helping him down to Louis and Zoey, "I – jeez where do those things come from!? Didn't we just kill one!?"

He leapt off of building as a meaty arm thrust through the window behind him, flailing and grasping angrily. It let out a howl of frustration and withdrew.

Zoey could hear growls and coughs and wet blurping from every angle, and the infected clustering around the APC began to mob them again, desperate to take out their blinding rage on something.

"Why aren't they shooting? Why aren't they helping?" she heard herself yell over the din. She and Louis were helping Bill along, the older man trying vainly to keep from slowing them down. Francis plowed through the front, swinging the rifle like a bat when it seemed like bullets weren't enough. The monster in the building was throwing a fit trying to get to the them, and Zoey was sure that the only thing stalling it was the fact that it was trying to just punch through all the walls instead of running around them. It wouldn't take much longer.

The APC rolled to a stop. Nobody got out. For a moment, Zoey thought they might just drive off again. Francis couldn't hold off the crush of zombies forever. She could hear his breathing grow more and more ragged, and she recalled that they'd been at this all night. Since before sundown.

A hydraulic whine filled her with a wash of relief, but it seemed to work the zombies into a higher pitched frenzy and Zoey pulled one pistol, firing into the crowd, certain that every unaimed shot hit something.

"Fucking army!" Francis shouted, "Get inside! Get in!"

"Go Louis! Help Bill in next!" Zoey shouted, bracing her back against Francis to keep from being jostled over by infected.

Louis climbed in when there was enough room and put his hands out for Bill. He pulled the veteran in, both of them falling back in a tangle of curses, and the APC jerked forward a little.

"HEY!" Louis exclaimed in alarm, banging on the wall, "WAIT A SEC! Zoey! Francis! Get in!"

"I'm... ah, I'm trying!" Zoey cried, staggering back as more infected swarmed in around them. She put up her arms to protect her face as one came close, snapping at her, and she fell back, sitting down hard next to Francis.

"Shit," he swore, looking down at her, and back up at... something, "Shit, can you get up? I can't really bend down!"

"I'm trying!" she said, grasping at his leg to pull herself up. He swung the rifle around him like he was cutting a swath through a jungle, trying to make a space for her, and she eventually dragged herself to her feet. When she was up, she heard a familiar roar.

The other's had been big, but this one... it didn't even look vaguely human, and it was charging.

Apparently, the soldiers in the APC saw it too, because they started to drive.

"WAIT!" Zoey cried, "Francis, they're leaving!"

For the first time in their time together, she saw fear grip him, and when he looked down at her, she started to shake her head. No, no he'd better not.

Francis shouldered the rifle and grabbed the back of her pants and shirt, picking her up even as she shrieked at him not too. He plowed through the horde and heaved her with a grunt. She landed elbows first on the gangplank of the APC and cried out as the pain shocked through her.

There were hands pulling her inside but she struggled against them, pointing out, not daring to look.

"Francis you stupid son of a bitch, get your ass in here!" Bill hollered after him, "Hey! STOP!"

He pounded on the wall of the APC, but they seemed to take it as more of a 'Drive, drive!' than a 'Wait a second, we're missing one!'.

Zoey was on her hands and knees at the top of the gangplank now, reaching one hand out, screaming at him. He was stupid and he was dumb and she loved him goddammit!

He made eye contact with for only a moment, but she could tell that he'd heard her. Damn it. She shouldn't have done that. She'd just signed his fucking death warrant! You never shouted that to someone in the middle of a mob!

You and your stupid fucking movies, Zoey! her brain shrieked at her, This is real and he's going to die and that's all you can think about!

Francis started to work his way towards them. The APC wasn't driving very quickly, surrounded on all sides by infected, and he made steady progress. The hulking monster, however, wasn't slowed down by infected. It swatted them out of the way irritably, snarling and frothing, tearing up chunks of earth as it charged. Francis kept looking over his shoulder, checking on it, but it became clear to him soon that he wasn't going to outrun it.

So he stopped running.

"Francis!" she shrieked.

He turned and stood his ground, holding the assault rifle like it was a spear and the towering zombie was a wooly mammoth.

She couldn't watch. She had too watch.

The hydraulics began to whine. They were raising the plank.

Rearing up on its back legs, the monster roared and prepared to smash its fists down on him, and Francis responded by jamming the business end of the rifle into its belly.

It snorted swatted him like an annoying flea, and he went flying backwards, towards the APC.

He landed on the now horizontal plank with a loud crack. Louis and herself scrambled to drag him in, and it wasn't until the plank sealed them shut inside that she realized what had even happened.

It was all harsh breathing and ragged coughing. There were sounds outside, but they were muffled by the thick steel around them, and Zoey couldn't bring herself to care.

Francis groaned and she scrambled to his side, trying to figure out if he was okay or not. No blood coming out of his ears. That was good.

It was starting to trickle out his mouth, though. That was bad.

"Francis?" she asked in a tiny voice, brushing a shaky hand over his brow. It didn't seem like he'd heard her – he didn't even groan in response.

"Jesus Christ did you see that shit?" Louis asked breathlessly, "How are we even still alive?"

"I'm gonna chew out the son of a bitch in charge of this horseshit operation," Bill growled. In the bright lights of the APC he looked deathly pale, but it didn't make him any less formidable, "They tell us the APC draws a mob a' zombies and they turn up without any goddamn guns?"

"Hnnngh," Francis muttered, shifting a little and hissing when he did, "Awwww hell, I think I broke somethin'."

He coughed harshly, bringing up blood, and Zoey covered her mouth with her hands. She had no idea what to do. Oh god, was he bleeding internally? How long could he last like that? That thing had hit him so hard he'd sailed through the air.

"Can yah feel everything, son?" Bill asked him.

"Wish I couldn't," Francis said through his teeth, managing to squint one eye open, "Shit, m'I that bad?"

"You're pretty messed up man."

"Think it broke a rib," the biker muttered, trying to lift an arm to check but not having the strength to do so, squeezing his eyes shut, "Hngh god, movin' hurts. Musta broke every rib."

"What the hell were you thinkin'?" Bill wondered.

Francis opened his eyes and looked at Zoey, managing a thin, pained smile for her.

"How many was that worth?" he asked her. His voice was thick and strained, and she was positive even talking was causing him a lot of pain.

She put a hand over his mouth and shushed him, wondering absently if the tears spilling down her cheeks were making tracks through the thin layer of grime she was covered in.

"At least ten," she said, "But minus five for making me think you were going to die."

"Still could," he said, making a very distressed noise as he tried to shift his weight slightly, "Five huh?"

"Stop moving and shut up," she scolded.

"What's he talkin' about, five?" Louis said, "He delirious?"

"I'll tell you later," Zoey said, smirking at the supremely arrogant man bleeding to death on the floor of the APC. They'd only shook on the making out thing, but she much preferred him smug to pain-wracked.

She slipped a hand into his and squeezed it, confident when he squeezed back that everything was going to be all right.

Cut, print. That was a wrap. Zoey settled in next to Francis on the floor, resting her head on his shoulder and listening to his hitched, shallow breathing. This was about all she could have asked for, considering their odds.

Life is a Highway would swell as the camera pulled back on the APC trundling down some dirt road, zombies bouncing uselessly off of the hull.

Just tell em' we're survivors, she thought with a smile, closing her eyes.

A.N.: OMG double update! I hope you enjoyed things all the way through. I am seriously contemplating continuing this now, but it will be posted as a seperate entity so I don't muck this one up too much with my hare brained theories and kooky ideas and froofy romance. I need to take a bit of a breather after that writing marathon, so until next time, thank you for your constant support and encouragement! It was really great to have so much positive feedback from you all. :)