Olivia Keepsake's Story

The moaning. The ceaseless moaning. Won't it ever stop?
Another sleepless night for Olive, and the choir of corpses serenading her wasn't helping. She hadn't had sleep for the last two days in a row, running only on sugar, sugar, and more sugar. It was out extreme dumb luck that she had stumbled across a vending machine that hadn't been completely thieved clean. But the 7-Up and snack-sized Life-Savers had only lasted so long until she was running on empty again.

Olive looked beneath her, through the spaces in between strips of metal, into the hungry swarm of dead below. The morbid scene reached above their heads, just a few feet from her. She was caged in a fire escape, dangling like a meat piñata, all because she was finally able to find someplace where she could rest.. Right. The zombies below continued to taunt, snapping their jaws in the air as if they'd already gotten her, and all the while still keeping a continuous hum of moaning. "Hm. You guys could use some work, it seems you've lost tempo," Olivia scoffed bitterly, out of frustration, but mainly, from her sugar-induced stupor. Slamming her booted foot onto the metal, she caused the fire escape to shiver in vibration. Olive could no longer take it. She lifted her hands up to cram her ears shut; anything to keep the moaning away, at least just for a short while--

But, the barrier of her cupped hands could not keep the sudden call of a loud gunshot from her fatigued ears. She lifted her head and her face contorted in confusion, "What..?" The zombies' attention turned to the brick wall the fire escape was hinged to, past it, and into the building. The horde reacted promptly by heading towards the entrance. 'Well, that's great. There goes the horde, and here comes even more.' Olive shook off her fatigue and anger set-in as substitute. What kind of idiot would set himself up like that? And now she was in the middle of it too. She had to get out of there quick.

Olive had two options. Two windows to be exact. They both led into the building, but one had been blocked from the inside with file cabinets. The other was oddly intact, but Olive had previously been reluctant to enter the building, fearing zombies waited inside for her. Fortunately, a gunshot from inside busted her theory. If a live person managed to get in and stay intact for that long, there wasn't much of a threat waiting inside... at least, that's what she thought.

Olive broke the glass of the window and slipped inside. What she found was reminiscent of an office, she supposed, except it was in utter shambles. The desk had been reduced to planks of wood, and what were probably important documents before littered the floor. Not that Olive was expecting anything better. She exited the room and walked through a maze of hallways and lounges until she reached the stairs. The sound of clanging on metal stopped her in her tracks. It couldn't be a corpse, the sound was too measured. The sound echoed from below from the first floor. 'I guess that's where I'm headed next.'

She quietly made her way down the steps into a lobby. Olive kept low and peeked to one side of the room where a girl around her age sat, quite confidently at that. Olive's anger flared-- "Are you insane!? Do you realize what you've done? There's a whole pack of them waiting outside!" Olive had stood up from her crouch and pointed the axe in her hand towards the entrance doors. In her mind, she assumed the girl sitting before her here was the one to blame for the baited gunshot.

"Are you insane!? Do you realize what you've done? There's a whole pack of them waiting outside!" The girl's voice rang out, echoing slightly against the tiled walls. No bother. Tammy's handgun was already pointed at the girl's head, right in between her eyes. 3 survivors in one day. Damn. Her finger rested on the trigger, ready to pull it at any second. She could do it. And if she had to, she would. Especially because this girl had just banged in here, and was pointing fingers.

"I haven't done anything! If you want to be mad at someone, you might want to go talk to the lads upstairs!" The girl was surprised at how loud she spoke. She hasn't even talked for a week, and here she was, screaming at the first person she had ever saw for a while now. At her anger, her finger pulled back on the trigger a little bit more, but she stopped herself before the bullet was released. Her hand was still steady, her aim in between the girl's eyes. Which were actually a beautiful color... How stupid are you? Focus! Shaking her head a little, she returned her attention to the task at hand. She didn't attend to say anything more, but she was sure anybody that was in this building could hear them, dead or alive. Great.

Tammy's blue eyes scanned the girl. She didn't seem scared at all. Good for her. When she actually looked over the girl, she saw she was actually at least a year younger. Her hand faltered slightly at the thought, but she quickly regained her state of confidence. She bit her bottom lip, which she had been doing a lot for the past few days. Okay. She had to say one more thing. Just one.

"What's your name?" Her voice was quiet, but steady. She looked over the girl, with a small curious expression. She doubted she would get an answer without some sort of sarcasm, but it was better then not getting it at all. Not like she was planning to give her name, anyway.

Dutch froze, his blood suddenly turning to ice in his veins.

"What the frig?"

Brendan looked up at him from his pile of guns, a questioning look on his face.

"What is it?" He asked.

Dutch didn't answer, he quickly shoved his gas-mask back over his face and ran over to the door. He hesitated for a moment, then opened it halfway, turning his head in the direction of the stairs.

"Do you hear that?" He asked.

Brendan stood up and walked over beside him. They stood, unflinching, for a few moments. Every ounce of concentration focused on their auditory senses.

From down below a rhythmic, metallic banging noise was shuddering up the stairwell. Dutch licked his teeth, what the frig was this? He looked back over his shoulder at Brendan.

"What does that sound like to you?" He asked.

He could see the man's mind working behind his eyes, trying to conjure up anything he had seen on his way up that would make such a noise.

"I have no idea, this whole place is made of metal, it could be anything."

He was right. It really could be anything.

Then, another sound came up the stairwell. The sound of raised voices.

Dutch and Brendan met eyes for a moment, understanding passing between them. Survivors. More, frigging, survivors.

Dutch instinctively opened Vera's bolt and slid five of his loose rounds in before twisting the bolt back in place. There was no point in using his stripper clips when he didn't need too.

"Were gonna have to postpone that tour." Dutch said. "This place is getting too hot, too fast for me. I'm bugging out, come with me if you want. But I'm not going to carry your armory for you."

"Is there a backdoor in this place?" Brendan asked.

"Somewhere, probably. But we would waste too much time and make too much noise trying to find it. We're going to have to go straight through the front again. This time, I'm not stopping till I'm out of this hell-hole." Dutch replied. "I'll take point with Vera for now, you go get yourself situated with whatever military death-machines you want. I'll wait for you at the bottom of the stairs."

Brendan nodded and rushed back inside.

Dutch stalked as quietly as he could down the stairs, his jack-boots sounding fearfully loud to his own ears. The voices grew louder the further he descended. Not because the people were speaking louder, but because he was edged closer to them. He hated this, he hated getting this close. Watching people from a window inside an office building was one kind of scouting, but this was another thing entirely. A whole different beast. His insides were coiled up as tight as a spring, he felt like throwing up. He finally reached the bottom of the steps and stopped, Vera's metal butt-plate pressed against his shoulder in a white-knuckle grip.

He suddenly realized that he had forgotten to remove the scope from the top of the rifle.

Stupid.

He quickly loosened the keeper screw and slid the scope off, stowing it in the pocket of his parka. He brought the iron-sights up and tested their alignment. All was well. He waited for a few moments, controlling his lungs and trying to remain calm. He decided he couldn't wait for Brendan. Their quests-which were apparently in the lobby judging by the direction and volume of their speech-could decide to scope the place out at any moment. Dutch wanted the drop, the surprise, of bursting in behind them. Something he wasn't sure Brendan could help with while carrying a pile of guns.

He stepped over to the ajar door which led into the lobby. The voices continued, though his own blood was pounding so loudly in his head he couldn't make out the words. He could feel his muscles tightening all over his body.

Shock value. Shock value.

Dutch's adrenaline fueled kick smashed the door aside, creating a snapping sound as its hinges were torn from the cheap wood frame. He stomped into the room, his boots clacking loudly against the floor. He leveled Vera instinctively, only to find his rifle pointed at two young women. One of them held an axe which looked comically large compared to herself, the other one pointed a handgun at him also comically large in her hands.

Despite himself, Dutch felt his face tighten into a vicious grin behind his gas-mask.

What the frig was up with Milwaukee today?

"Well hello there, ladies. I'd much appreciate it if you could place that scary gun on the desk, I'm liable to act rashly if I'm frightened."

The thought occurred to him that he himself must look quite comical. A freak kid with a gas-mask and an antique weapon.

'Huh. Well, I should have expected this.'
Olive stood petrified and blank-faced in front of this girl, whoever she was, who had had her suddenly snagged at gun-point.

Despite her petrified form, Olive's mind whirred with thoughts. 'What the hell? Who did this chick think she was anyway? And what was she seriously planning to do with that gun?' At first glance, Olive wouldn't have thought this girl could make the mistake of attracting even more of those things when Olive had so selflessly risked herself to let her know. This girl looked adept, particularly because of the fact she was able to whip out her gun faster than Olive could have realized. But she was even more so convinced by the way she presented herself. She was announcing her presence to the entire building; she had to be hardcore. However, even if Olive thought positively about this stranger, it didn't mean the girl's thoughts were the same. How would she get herself out of this situation with no obvious way out; there was, obviously, the gun pointed at her face to think about, and the zombies immediately outside the door.

As she evaluated this situation in her mind, gun girl seemed to defend herself, "I haven't done anything! If you want to be mad at someone, you might want to go talk to the lads upstairs!"

Olive's luminous eyes flitted to the caved ceiling above her for a quick moment, as if she could suddenly sense the presence of others in the building, and at once returned to look in the face of her threat. 'Friends of yours?' Olive thought to ask before the girl asked for a name. A name! Did she ask this out of sincerity, or was she just toying with her? Olive was at a complete loss of what to retort with, that all she was able to vocalize was a few unintelligible pieces of words that she planned to say, but hadn't completely translated well out of her lips. Then, she couldn't help but burst out in an awkwardly brief instance of laughter. A moment passed when she clapped her free hand over her mouth in confusion. Boy, was her insomnia getting to her.

A "Sorry," was all Olive could get out before one of the doors beside the lobby unhinged from it's frame and fell to the ground, causing a slight tremor that shook the debris, as well as herself, slightly off the ground. A large bulk emerged from the darkness from behind where the door had been, and revealed what she believed to be a man in a serious ensemble. He wore a gas mask for Christ's sake! Where were these people coming from all of a sudden?

"That was quite an entrance. So you're the--," this is where Olive would have said idiot if it weren't for the gun he also clutched in his hands. Olive looked to the fire axe she gripped in her right hand, then back and forth to the guns she couldn't have possibly competed with. Sigh.

She shook her head back into attention, and her fierce eyes locked with those of the new intruder.
"So I suppose you're the one who alerted the whole fleet of biters outside within a 5-mile radius, hm?"

"Well hello there, ladies. I'd much appreciate it if you could place that scary gun on the desk, I'm liable to act rashly if I'm frightened." Tammy had her gun pointed at him by the time he said hello. Already, she had fished her knife out of her duffle bag and was pointing it at the girl, so she didn't have a weak point. What the hell was going on here? Two survivors, staring at her. She wanted to ask a million questions, but decided her best bet was to remain silent. It's worked for her so far in this mess. She looked at the girl as she turned her accusation to the man. It was, after all, him who brought those monsters to the door.

But she was still aware that the girl hadn't given her a name. Flicking her eyes to the man before her for a second, she realized this people were probably the ones she would either have to stick with, or kill. For some reason, killing them made her feel a little uneasy. But that could always be the best option. She frowned and furrowed her brows for half a second, a habit she has had when she was thinking since she was a child, before returning to her mask of showing no emotion.

"Okay, I know we just had a nice meeting and all, but I want to know names." Tammy's voice was rather sarcastic, but was once again curious in the end. She looked at both of them, but her eyes settled on the girl. She had been here longer. And the only thing she had done was apologize.

"Maybe if I tell you my name, you'll be less shy. It's Tammy. Tammy Jones." Although she had said her name, she said it so quietly they probably couldn't have heard her anyway. And after she spoke, there was a silence. At least, in the bar. She swore she could hear other people talking. No, she was imagining it... But she still found herself walking towards the door. She was quite aware of the zombies that were crowded at the door, moaning as they pushed against the glass and tried to get in. If you looked over them, however, in front of that bar, was a van. That was full of survivors. Her blue eyes widened slightly at the thought, and she blinked a couple of times, to make sure she wasn't making it up. But there it was, solid as ever. With a small girl in the back seat, sleeping with her head in the lap of an older girl. And an injured girl, with another girl speaking to her. And many, many more people. Too many to think of.

Turning around, Tammy regained her stance of having the gun pointed at the man, knife pointed at the girl. She then gave a small nod of her head towards the door, and looked at both of them.

"Come look. There's more of them."

Dutch's eyes moved back and forth between the two women. He realized it was a mistake not waiting for Brendan, he really hoped he would pop up behind his shoulder any second now. The dark haired girl he wasn't too worried about, even if she turned out to be an axe-murderer, she wouldn't be able to reach him before he could train Vera on her. The other young women, however, was peculiar. She seemed abnormally calm; like someone who believed they held all the best cards in the end, despite any circumstances.

"Okay, I know we just had a nice meeting and all, but I want to know names."

Dutch blinked.

"Maybe if I tell you my name, you'll be less shy. It's Tammy. Tammy Jones."

She began walking backwards towards the glass doors of the office building. For a moment, Dutch thought she was about to open the doors and make a run for it. He considered shooting her on the spot. He had never killed a live person before, and he didn't like the idea of starting with a girl. Still, if he had too, he was pretty sure he could.

"Come look. There's more of them."

He followed her gaze out the door for a brief second; Vera still pointed at her. All he saw was the line of walkers behind the glass, snarling at them. He realized both the young women thought he had brought them, accused him of attracting their attention. For a moment, his pride was hurt.

"It was those gun-slingers across the street at the bar that brought every walker in Milwaukee here!" He thought.

Still, he had to admit that he had been quite a gun-slinger himself today. He had brought the attention from the bar to this building through his actions. He knew that had been stupid. Still, at the time he had thought he was only going to have to take care of himself. Then, when he managed to get Brendan inside, he had thought it would be even easier to make a getaway. But now, with four people.... Two of whom he was still pointing his rifle at...

Then he saw, behind the walkers, the police van. The survivors from the bar were getting away. Good. At least if he died here, he could die knowing he helped save some lives.

He sighed and suddenly lowered his rifle. Both the young women looked at him quizzically.

"Well, there's no point in killing each other with the enemy at the gates." He said. "I've been on a generous streak all day today. Those walkers out there are partly my fault, but I wasn't aware I had stowaways down here. For that I'm sorry."

The two women continued to look at him. He took in their faces for the first time. They were young, but obviously older than him by a few years. He smiled behind his mask. On of his favorite side-effects of wearing his mask was that nobody could see or remember his face. The two young women probably didn't any idea how young he actually was.

"If you want to get over to the van, I'll help you. Don't ask why, I don't have a frigging clue, I guess its payback for helping get you into this situation. But there's not enough room in that van for everybody, and I don't like crowds. They may even decide to kill you before you get close." He said.

The girl by the door lowered her pistol.

"What are you proposing?" She asked.

"I'm proposing that I make a distraction. I've got a buddy upstairs who can help me out once he gets down here. While I do, you take miss axe and book it over to the van." He said.

He watched the gun-girl's mind working behind her eyes, working out the possibilities.

"Unless you want to come with me." He said, looking over at Miss Axe now. "I don't plan on dieing today, and I don't think my friend upstairs does either. We have enough guns for the both of you."

Miss Axe's hands fiddled with the handle of her weapon as she looked back and forth between the two of them.

"I can track that van, no problem at all, seeing as how there's only one direction where they can go from there. South. I was already planning on leaving anyway. We can follow the road out of here and meet up with them again eventually. I doubt they have enough gas to get far, and every gas station between here and Cincinnati is tapped dry. " He finished.

He didn't know why he was offering, he didn't know who these people were. Still, he had offered, and that was that. Besides, it gave him an excuse to finally get out of this frigging city.

"By the way." He added, looking back at Tammy was it? "Call me Dutch. That's it."

He heard Brendan suddenly coming down the stairs behind him. Finally. Backup.

"What the hell...?" Brendon said as he ran downstairs. He lowered the Mossberg 500 he picked up from the gunpile to give a more friendly demeanor.

"Dutch, who are these people?" Brendon said keeping his eyes locked on the pair of females.

"This is Tammy...I think..." Dutch said as he pointed to a slender looking girl, around the age of 20.

Brendon nodded for a second then spoke up, "I'm Brendon..." He was hesitant. Stange. He thought to himself. Just a few minutes ago I trusted my life to this stranger who was hundreds of feet away, yet I am trying my best to place trust in these people who are just inches away.

He rested the butt of the shotgun on the ground and leaned against the door frame.

"And this is...Well I don't know who this is." Dutch said looking back at Brendon puzzled.

Brendon stepped away from the door and ejected three shells from the shotgun, exposing the breech to show the gun was unloaded. He pocketed the shells, and began talking.

"So...No sense in blasting each other. I'm not sure what deal my friend Dutch and you struck up, but if you want to join us, we are making our way out of the city. I have enough supplies in food, water, weapons, and ammo for all of us to carry out of here without the use of my cart. What do you guys say? I'm sure Dutch would be fine, and I would too. Strength in numbers, am I right?" Brendon said putting on his best fake smile.

He didn't really care if they came or not, it made no difference. More people=More responsibilities. More people=More resources. It worked both ways for him, and the risks and the benefits both evened each other out.

"Olive-- My name is Olive."
The tone in her voice oozed with impatience and confusion. These people were already making plans for an escape? Did they not realize how naive they sounded? Even with their guns and ammo, and whatever else they had, there was no way they were going to make it out of that front door with that many walking corpses, much less make it to the van they were aiming for. She wasn't trying to be a downer, she was being realistic. Olive did have an idea though, but it wasn't going to be easy.

Despite the pestering light-bulb flickering in her head, she stood quietly in the corner she occupied, ruminating in her own thoughts. 'Hadn't I already told myself that I wouldn't try and be a hero. I also remember myself saying that I wouldn't depend on anyone, either. Why was that, I wonder?' Olive mocked bitterly in her mind. She hadn't been around people for so long that it was hard not to want to try to keep company, or just have a conversation. But, it was different now. Now that she had this monster of a disease stuck to her, was her own loneliness worth the heartache of having to down a friend who had turned because of her? She couldn't. She wouldn't.

What she could do, though, was make one last leap for these people she hardly knew, but felt so close to at the same time. After all, they were all stuck on the same boat; all Olive had to do was give up her own life-vest this time.

"Look," Olive started, her voice echoing loudly in contrast to the odd silence in the room. "Frankly, there's no chance anyone of us will get through those doors alive." She pointed to the entrance as a zombie tore through the window-view on the door. It put it's face to the broken glass, oblivious of the shards ripping through it's skin, as it ground it's teeth menacingly and gave a bloody growl.

"There is, however, another way. Let's hope none of you are afraid of heights." The glow in her eyes shifted as she looked to the stairs where she had just came, and a knowing smirk teased the corners of her lips.

"There is, however, another way. Let's hope none of you are afraid of heights."

Dutch clenched his teeth. He didn't really care how, but he was going to get out of here. He didn't know about Tammy or Brendon; but this Olive girl obviously had a plan.

He glanced over at the glass door. Anything was better than the alternative.

He looked back at Brendon and Tammy, then made his way over to stand next to the reception desk closer to Olive.

"Hell, I don't know about you two, but I'm going with her. It's better than trying to book it across the street to a bunch of strangers." He said.

Funny.

Did he not consider these people strangers anymore?

Brendon nodded his head to Dutch to let him know he was in as well. He picked up what gear he had and threw the rest to the others.

"Don't loose it. These are more valuable than any of us right now!" Brendon said.

He gulped at what this girl had planned. He didn't want to say it, but he actually was scarred of heights. Even climbing a rockwall would cause him to shake and tremble.

"Get over yourself Brendon." He thought to himself. He took a big breathe and let it all out.

"Ready when you are."

Tammy looked at all of them, frowning. She was actually considering leaving. Just... going on her own. But she didn't know if she could stand being alone much longer. Company came with a price, she knew that. For all she knew, one of these people could be a psycho, just waiting until she turned around to stab her in the back. She chewed on her bottom lip until she could taste blood, just thinking. The silence was endless, and it was all because she couldn't make one freaking decision.

"Alright. Where's this amazing escape of yours." She finally said, standing up straight and lowering her gun completely. A ghost of a smile could be seen, but it was gone as fast as it had came. No need to show any type of weakness, no matter what it was. She scooped up the duffle bag she had put down before and went over to stand next to Olive, still thinking about leaving. She had been doing alright on her own so far, why did she need help now? Her eyes darted over to the hallway where the cabinet was for about half a second. Nope. She was staying, and was going to find a way to get inside of that van, no matter where the others went.

"Alright. Where's this amazing escape of yours."

Dutch breathed out slowly.

He had been worried about Tammy. It was clear she had mixed feelings, any sane person would considering the circumstances. Still, he was quite sure that she would have died had she tried to get out on her own. What did he really know though? For all he knew, she could be a CIA trained killing machine. Still, it was better that they were together. They could split up later if they wanted too, but Dutch really did not want to leave behind anyone in this building. Even if she were able to make it out on her own, Dutch would never know, and he knew deep down he would never be able to forget her face. He would have wondered about her fate for the rest of his life.

He knew this for a fact, because there were already several faces that flashed through his mind at night, and kept him from sleeping.

He watched as she walked over to stand next to Olive. Everyone's attention now rested on the dark haired girl. All that was left now was for her to get them out of here.

Funny.

He couldn't think of another time in his life when he had more fully placed his own life into another person's hands.

"Frig."

He couldn't actually say the word. His jaw was clenched so tightly, there was no way he could speak. The fire-escape was only a few feet away from the window. Just a few scant feet, easy stuff. But he still couldn't move.

He took a deep breath, and slowly forced himself to relax. If he worked himself up now, the chances of him falling to his death would only increase. He placed his right foot on the window sill. His goal was a rickety iron fire-escape, bolted to the side of the building. Between him and it, was open air. He turned around one last time, glancing at the faces of the people standing in the room behind him. Why the frig had he decided to go first?

He reached out with his gloved hand, placing a firm grip on the fencing of the iron structure. Then he swung his foot out, stepping on the fence. Finally, he pushed off with his remaining foot, and flung himself into the wrought iron cradle. He immediately stood and tested the security of the structure. It seemed intact enough, and all the walkers were still at the front doors of the building.

The ground was clear.

He looked around him desperately, searching for a way to drop the ladder to ground level. He eventually found the release lever, and the ladder quickly extended all the way to the street below. He signaled for everyone else to begin to follow him.

Then he began the long climb down, only hoping a pair of claws and teeth did not await him in the shadows below.

He noticed the sun was setting.

Great.

Tammy's eyes bounced around the window faster then she ever thought possible. She first looked at the fire escape, then the zombies, the ladder as Dutch allowed it to slide down to the ground, and finally, the setting sun. She saw his signal and stepped on the fire escape. It didn't seem very stable, but it was like a message from heaven at that moment. When Dutch hit the ground, she was already going down the ladder, trying to concentrate on the rusty rungs of the ladder instead of the drop below her.

When her foot hit the ground, she turned her attention to the zombies. They were starting to notice them, but only a few. She quickly mentioned for the next person to come down, going to stand next to Dutch as she pulled the gun out of the bag again, not shooting yet, but prepared to. She looked up again. They had to get out of here.

Wait, where was the van? Looking around, she decided it was nowhere in sight. "Fuck," She mumbled. They must have left already. She looked at Dutch, and then up at the fire escape. She had been hoping to get in that van, no matter where it went. Now she was stuck with no where to go, and a hoard of zombies after them.

'This brings back fond memories,' Olive reminisced in her mind, flashes of her sugar binge of candy and soda whirring behind her green florescent eyes. The crumpled bag she had left, where the LifeSavers used to be, inched towards the edge of the fire escape as she nudged it with her booted foot. Maybe she had overlooked a stray piece of candy in there? ..Nope.

She watched it as the wind pushed it over the ledge and hit the ground with a silent rustle. It glided into the dark of an alleyway as a breeze past, carrying with it the overwhelming stench of rotting flesh.

"Ugh--," Olive's nose wrinkled, and her mouth curled closed in disgust. She pulled her jacketed-forearm over her nose and mouth in a poor attempt to block out the smell. She still couldn't get used to it, even after all this time being exposed to it days on end.

The stranger survivors of who she barely knew at this point, Tammy and Dutch, waited below as she and another of her new acquaintances-- Brendon, he had called himself-- stood a foot behind her. Behind her mind, Olive made sure to keep her distance from him, unaware of the company she now kept. And, most crucial of all, they didn't know what company they kept with her, either.

She took hold of a medical face mask from her jacket pocket and tied it around her nose and mouth. Spots of grime soiled the mask here and there, but it had to do. This whole procedure was really an unconventional way to prevent the spread of whatever the hell she had, and it's not like she was used to having people around to perfect her means of self-quarantine. She guessed this was a good time to start.

Olive finished her preparation by pulling on a pair of tattered leather gloves. As she finished tugging them on securely, her head rose to watch the sun quickly creeping down dangerously close to the horizon. They had to move.

She turned to Brendon, lowering her mask a bit so that she her voice wouldn't be muffled, but still keeping it guarded near her mouth, "I'm going ahead, but try not to keep here long. It's getting dark." She pulled the mask over her face again and stepped onto the rung of the ladder. She lowered down two rungs at a time, trying to make up time they would need if they planned to get to safety.

Olive stepped onto the ground carefully and observed the lurking walkers around them, some oblivious of their presence and others already making their way towards them slowly in halted steps and struggling limps. She looked back up at Brendon warily without a word. Silence was vital more than ever now that they were sharing the same ground with the dead scavengers.

Dutch watched the walkers slowly trickle down the alley towards them. He glanced back up, Brendon was the only one left at the window. He quickly calculated several things in his mind at once. The speed of the walkers, how far down the alley they were, and the speed with which Brendon could scale the ladder.

Not good.

A shock of fear sliced through him again, and the nigh irresistible, primal urge to run electrified his brain. He took a deep breath, then another.
Without a word, he slid Vera off his back. He slid his bayonet out of its sheath on his hip, and quietly attached it to the end of the barrel. Essentially, he now carried a six foot long spear.

He motioned for Tammy to stay by the ladder with the recently descended Olive; then he took a few steps forward. There was no way they could fire a gun now, they had no cover, and no chaos around them to mask their shots like earlier.

Firing a shot now would be like........

..............What had that man from Cincinnati called it?

"Ringing the dinner-bell."

Dutch licked his teeth behind his gas-mask. A lone walker had gotten dangerously close, he could hear its breath and see its blood stained face distinctly. He took a deep breath, and three strides forward. With a grunt, he shoved the antique blade into the walkers face. A quick splurt of semi-congealed blood erupted from the demon's forehead, and then it fell with a groan. Dutch quickly wrenched his weapon free and walked back towards the ladder.

"Come on.... Come on..... Come on......" He began to mutter.

Brendon was shaking now. He was visibly nervous. He walked out into the window, and grabbed the ladder. The feel of the rusted metal, his sweaty palms, and just his heightened awareness mixed to form a strange feeling. That was when the wind started to blow, and the ladder shook a bit. Brendon's heart was pounding faster and faster. He started to descend, slowly. Cautiously. The game he was playing was survival. The winner of survival is the one who is patient. Who can out think his way out of situations. Brendon was halfway down, he put his foot down, but one of the bars on the ladder was rusted away greatly, and it broke under his weight. He let out a gasp, and felt his heart drop to what seemed like his legs. His shaking got worse. His breathing got deeper and deeper.

Brendon was at the bottom now, and he let go. It was about a 7 foot drop, and he hopped right back up. He then turned to Dutch and whispered to him, "Any ideas?"

"Any ideas?"

"Ideas?" Dutch replied hurriedly. "Uhhh... Ideas.... Ideas...."

He looked around at the people beside him, then suddenly noticed that the one who had asked him the question was Brendon. He let out a sigh of relief.

"Well, we aren't going that way." He said, gesturing Vera in the general direction of the steadily growing mass staggering down the alley.

There was honestly only one thing he could think of, and he voiced his opinion quickly.

"I say we make for the train rails. I know where they are, that's how I got in. We can follow them all the way out of here, and make it south without ever meeting another soul if we want." He said flatly.

He jabbed his thumb over his shoulder, towards the opposite opening of the alley. The side not currently pressed tight with the living dead.

"At the very least, that's where I'm going. There's nothing left for me here in this dead city."

The horde grew closer every second. Whatever the groups decision, Dutch sincerely hoped they made it fast. He lunged out and downed a walker with Vera's metal butt-plate, only to see two more close in around them.

The shambling horde was picking up momentum. They had to get out of here, now.

"I say we make for the train rails. I know where they are, that's how I got in. We can follow them all the way out of here, and make it south without ever meeting another soul if we want."

Train rails. South. Good enough. Tammy looked around at the group and shrugged.

"Hey, we don't need to waste another minute deciding. Anybody else have any ideas?" She waited for somebody to say something, anything, but it was dead quiet. Well, there were the moans. But that was about it. "No? Alright then, let's go." She knew she was being somewhat rude, but it didn't matter. They had to leave. As in now. She tried to ignore the stumbling zombies behind her as she turned her attention to Dutch.

"I take it you know how to get to the tracks from here. Mind leading the way?" Tammy bit her lip as she pointed towards the opposite direction of where the walker's were coming from. Hopefully, somebody would get that she was trying to speed this process along.

Brendon had no objection to the plan. Train tracks had minimum obstacles, and provided a clear path rather than the mix of exits and overpasses that sprung up on the outskirts of Milwaukee. Brendon pulled everything in close, and began to take off on a nice pace to the south. "I'll take point. Dutch if you want to cover us with your long range sniper, please be my guest. You two ladies, do whatever." Brendon then felt a rush of air and the feeling of lightness.

In his foolishness, he had failed to see the pothole before him. Falling face first, he hit his forehead on the asphalt. Trying to pick himself up, he felt weak, and let go. He laid there on the ground. His vision was blurring. For a few seconds he accept that he would be left behind. "No." He whispered to himself. He flung himself up, or at least tried to. Putting both feet on the ground, he slowly swaggered over to a car for support. He was still dizzy, and blood was now dripping into his eyes, providing a stinging sensation. "Water...? Anyone. I need some water." He said motioning to his eyes while he attempted to get his gear off his back.