Chapter 1

SNAFU

Another thunder clap of gunfire echoed in the street. PFC Conner Bryant dropped to the ground as the bullets snapped over his head in his latest brush with death. "Christ Williams, ever heard of a thing called friendly fire? You nearly took my goddamn head off!" Rising from the ground, the Georgia National Guardsman slid a new magazine into his assault rifle and took aim at the approaching corpses. Williams replied with a low gurgling noise, and Conner turned to see what had happened.

One of the creatures had grasped Williams from behind, and the soldier's throat was firmly clamped between the monster's teeth. Blood was jetting out of the wound as Williams died, the creature tearing chunks of flesh from his face. Conner swung the rifle around and sent a three round burst through the thing's head, and its body fell limp. Williams was lying next to it, twitching, and extended a shaky hand to Conner as his life faded. Without a second thought, Conner set his weapon to semi-automatic, and ensured that his fellow soldier wouldn't come back.

Sergeant Keenan's gruff voice could be heard even above the background noise of what seemed to Conner to be the end of the world. "I told you to get on that goddamn radio, and get us out of here! These ghouls have already breached the perimeter!" The squad's radio specialist, Private Dorn, uttered a meek "Yes, Sergeant", before bowing his head and trying the radio once more. The low, constant moaning of the dead was all around them as the squad picked them off as fast as they could aim and fire their weapons. Unfortunately, it seemed that there were more of the undead than they had bullets.

Crouching, Conner sighted in on one and pulled the trigger. Click. He froze. Is it jammed? I just loaded the damn thing. What's happening? Overcoming his surprise, he was just in time to pull his combat knife from the sheath on leg as the dead thing came within arm's reach. It lunged at him, but he leaped back. Off balance, his assailant fell forward, but Conner charged back at him. Grabbing the beast's neck with his left hand, he drove his knife up through its chin with all of his might, pushing the tip of the blade through and into the brain. His victim shuddered for a second as the last of its few brain functions ceased and Conner let go, the now truly dead corpse hitting the cement in the street with a thud. Sneering at it, he made a silent promise that if he died out here, he'd kill whoever had supplied his squad with these half-loaded magazines.

It had started a week ago. At least that's what he thought. Time moved differently now that his entire world had been turned upside down then dropped to the pavement on its head. His squad had been called into action on the third day of this outbreak, or attack, or whatever it was. As a member of the Georgia National Guard, his company had been tasked with evacuating cities and towns on the way to Atlanta, where other units were attempting to set up a safe zone. Casualties had been a common occurrence for the past four days, and Conner had lost count of the number of men he'd seen ripped apart, or dismembered, or ones with throats torn out from corpses that had ambushed them from around corners or in dark rooms. His own squad had lost three men only yesterday.

Now they were in Macon, Georgia. Their last stop before Atlanta. Before safety. A reconnaissance unit the day before had reported survivors in downtown Macon. Their orders were to get in, extract them, and escort them to the rally point at the Save Lots near the interstate, where they would stay until military operations in the area had ceased. Then Conner's unit, along with others, would escort the survivors at the Save Lots to the permanent safe zone in Atlanta and wait for relief.

Jarred out of his thoughts by Keenan's grating voice, Conner heard it. The faraway sound of rotors slicing through the air. And it was getting closer. "Damnit kid, if you do not get your ass to the LZ in the next two minutes, you will be left behind. Is that clear?! We're going to EVAC out to Robins for our new orders! This mission is scrubbed, so unless you want to get real friendly with these dead folks you should get your ass in gear!"

Normally, Conner would hit someone for talking to him like that, but he didn't care now. He was getting out of this hellhole. Across the street, at the top of an apartment building, he saw the helicopter touch down. His squad mates rushed into the building in a frenzy, each of them eager to be the first one on that aircraft. There would be enough room for them all. The squad's recent "downsizing" had made sure of that.

From behind Conner, he heard a scream. He and Keenan turned to find it. The source was Corporal Mathis, now lying face down on the pavement. One of the corpses had reached out from under a wrecked car and grabbed his foot as he ran past, tripping him. It dragged itself out from under the wreckage, bloody stumps in place of legs that left a dark trail behind it. Mathis reached out to them and groaned as dozens more of the undead converged on him from all around. Conner turned away just as they reached the young man and sprinted to the apartment building while Mathis screamed out the last seconds of life from under a mass of rotting, hungry corpses.

Beside him, Keenan was breathing heavily. "Alright son," he gasped, "Let's get out of here."