User:Lachryma/Fiction

City of the Dead (working Title)

Prologue

Captain Foss looked out over Malton from one of many watchtowers set up around the city. Smoke obscured much of his view, but he did not like what he could see. Close quarters urban combat, civilians, clogged streets, the walking dead...No, Malton was not going to be fun. His dark thoughts were interrupted by the arrival of his second in command, Sergeant Menzer.

"Sir, the limeys are ready with their formal briefing, sir!", Menzer said with a crisp salute.

"At ease, Sergeant. This is no parade ground". Foss paused for a moment, his dark eyes taking in the Malton skyline. "Let's hear what we're in for," said Foss as he began to climb down the watchtower.

"Yes sir!" Menzer replied and followed him down the ladder. At the bottom he added, "This way, sir." The captain followed his subordinate along the fortified line that had become known worldwide as the Malton DMZ. The trenches were almsot laughable considering their enemy had no ranged weapons to use that would warrent the use of trenches and sandbags, but it was standard militar procedure. The British soldiers manning the defenses (So similar to the ones their great grandfathers used during the First World War) gave him awkward stares, as they weren't used to seeing American officers walking through the trenches. There were other international units here though. They passed a Canadian battalion, a few Belgian detachments, even a regiment from Italy, Any nation not busy fighting their own outbreaks lended help where they could. Menzer eventually lead his captain to a communication trench that lead to the rear of the defenses. When they reached the prefabricated shelter that housed the British command staff, a British Lieutenant gave the captain a palm-upward salute. The Captain returned the courtesy and entered the building. The commander of the DMZ stood up and extended Foss his hand.

"Captain Foss, I presume?" he asked in a clipped British accent.

"That's right," Foss answered and shook the man's hand "You must be General Harding." The older man nodded.

"Quite. And this is Lieutenant Dunn, he will be leading the British half of this expedition." The lieutenant who greeted Foss at the door nodded in his direction. Foss acknowledged him and turned back to Harding.

Foss began, "Well, I've been looking to get some hard facts ever since I got here. You Lime-er, excuse me sir..." Harding waved off the comment.

"If we can call you yankees you can call us Limeys," he replied.

"Right well, you Brits sure keep a tight hold on things here." Foss finished. Harding smiled.

"You can thank the SAS and MI6 for that. They've done a very good job of keeping this mostly bottled up," the elderly general said.

"Right well, I am looking forward to this briefing," the American hastily said as he obviously changed the subject.

The British officer smiled, almost reveling in his counterpart's anxiety. "Of course. Well, Lieutenant Dunn is far more qualified to deliver the briefing than I." He motioned to the lieutenant. The younger man stepped onto a makeshift platform. He pressed a button on the podium and brought up a slide of an aerial view of Post-Outbreak Malton. The city was riddled with burning sections and devoid of artificial lights for the most part.

"As you can see, our aerial photos don't give us a very clear idea of what things are like on the ground." The Lieutenant's accent spoke of Scotland.

"No shit." Menzer mumbled. Foss sent him an evil glance.

"They do say, though, that Malton is not dissimilar to downtown Liverpool." Dunn added, clearly looking for laughs. He received none. "I have made three separate incursions into the city itself," he continued, "Primarily to make contact with local groups and find the best path to your target area. The city is in chaos largely, but several areas have been secured by local survivors. Our path-" Dunn pushed another button and a red line appeared at the edge of the DMZ and went straight to the NecroTech building in question. "Is here. It should be clear for the most part. The only time we come even close to survivors groups is when we cut through here-" Dunn brought up and image of raised highway. "It is only a few miles from Ackland Mall wich, satelite imagery shows-" another click and an image of a large square building surronded by a mob came up. From what Foss saw of the crowd it reminded him of when he saw Black Sabbith play a concert in his childhood. "Is inhabbited by a large number of survivors and surronded by zombies. We are going to try and avoid this area." Dunn looked at Foss, "I can tell you, it won't be easy. I would much rather you jsut let the SAS handle this, your men aren't prepared to combat the Zeds." Foss shook his head, "I appreciate your concern, but we're prepared for anything we can dea with it."

After this Dunn shrugged and took his seat again. Harding retook the stage. "Things aren't looking very good. But, due to your governments pushing, we have agreed to give you access to the city. But only to retrieve the NecroTech scientists with US citizenship." Foss nodded, he had already been briefed on that.

Harding continued, "In exchange for rescuing your citizens, our government has a favor to ask." Foss had expected as much.

"In the target building is research equipment we need. It fits into a briefcase, and the British half of the team will be handling it."

Harding suddenly looked very focused as he continued, "But if our men are...incapacitated, you Americans are responsible for that briefcase-" Foss looked about to speak, "-And if the team does not have that briefcase when you get back to the DMZ, regardless of casualties, no one will leave Malton. Am I clear?"

At this, Foss stood up. "Excuse me, General? Did I just hear you right? If we don't come back with your precious package, we'll be shot on sight?"

Harding looked a little pale, but he did not back down, "Yes, Captain. The only thing worth breaking Malton's quarantine for is in that briefcase." Foss reluctantly sat down, then he took another glance at the aerial photo slide.

"Wait, your NecroTech building is in the center of the city? That's...that's Ridleybank, isn't it?" Foss spoke quickly, and the worry in his voice was evident. Dunn spoke now, "I see you've heard of the 'bank, as the locals call it. Yes, that is our objective. Is that a problem, Yank?"

Foss did his best to ignore the comment, but Menzer took it personally. "You think you SAS guys are something special? Wait 'till you see the Green Berets in action!" he shot back.

Dunn merely arched an eyebrow. Foss looked back at the general, "I understand, sir. Will there be any support?"

Harding smiled. "If you can find any," he said. Foss didn't like that smile.

"Well alright then sir. I'd like to meet my team and see our method of insertion."

Foss could have sworn he heard Dunn mutter, "Daz what she said." The captain looked back at him and the Dunn merely smiled.

"Alright sir, I've already told your squad to assemble at the landing pad. And my boys are waiting their as well." Dunn said. Foss regained his composure and nodded.

"Lead the way Lieutenant."

Chapter 1

"A Chinook?" Foss asked in shock. Dunn looked back, a broad grin on his fae,

"That's right sir. It's a holdover from the Cold War. It has special modifications made to it, making it ideal for this mission. Silent rotors, extra payload capacity, meet the Natasha." He was clearly very proud of the large American helicopter.

"Natasha?" Foss asked, blinking in confusion.

Dunn smiled, recalling a fond memory, "Girl I met while on black ops in the Ukraine. It's a long story, remind me to tell you sometime."

Around the Cold War relic was a squad of British troops laughing and talking loudly. "Captain, meet the best the SAS has to offer." Dunn said with pride. The troops instantly became more businesslike by snapping to attention. Foss nodded.

"Not much to look at," Menzer said quietly. Dunn pretended not to hear him. With a clomping of boots, the American Green Berets entered the landing pad across from their British counterparts.

Dunn stepped forward with a older man in a lab coat. "This is our medic, Mr. Norris. He is an employee of NecroTech and should be able to patch us up easily enough!"

The British soldiers laughed softly, while their counterparts murmured uneasily.

Foss stepped forward, "This is unacceptable, Lieutenant. I will not be risking my life to rescue NecroTech people, secure an NecroTech building, and recover NecroTech property while being treated by a NecroTech employee! I want a real medic, with battlefield experience, who doesn't have anything to do with what's going on in Malton!"

Dunn took a step back. "Well, I suppose you have a point...sir, but I'm afraid there's no neutral parties-" Dunn was interrupted by one of his men. They whispered briefly for a moment, then Dunn turned to face the Americans.

"It appears you are in luck, Captain. Government agents recently detained a Russian medic who was sightseeing in the area. Apparently she's seen combat in Chechnya, and our military has drafted her, as we need everyone we can get. She sounds perfect for your needs, Captain."

Foss nodded slightly, "Bring her in, Dunn. Now."

Chapter 2

Foss stood, waiting impatiently on the helipad. He straighted up as Dunn led a striking woman up to him.

"Captain, meet your medic. Lachryma, meet your captain," said Dunn with a small smile.

Lachryma stared straight at Foss with her penetrating brown eyes. The silence stretched.

Suddenly, she spoke, "Look, Captain man, I no want to be here. The Motherland calls. But for now, I patch you up, and you no let dead ones bite me. Is understood?" Her Russian accent was strong yet understandable, and her body language was tense.

Foss looked slightly nervous as he replied, "Kinda pushy, huh? Well, it's a deal. Follow my orders and we'll get out of this alive."

Lachryma laughed in his face, "Your orders? Have you ever seen zombie, soft American? Has infection reached your McDonald's yet? I experience dead one in Moscow, I is ready for Malton. Are you?"

Foss stared at her for a second, then started talking, "Look, if we want to get home, we have to work together. Do you want to survive?"

Lachryma nodded, then smiled, "Good, we have understanding. Is lovely."

She turned and started walking toward the waiting helicopter while Dunn and Foss shared a worried glance.

"Hopefully you won't need her." Dunn said, trying to comfort Foss. The American gave the SAS lieutenant a cold stare. "We'll be traveling to the extraction site via a Striker Armored Transport. So we'll be totally safe" Foss nodded in approval.

"The only way to travel." he returned.

"Only problem, it holds 10 and there are now 19 of us." Dunn said matter-of-factly.

"So one squad has to walk while one rides, no biggie. We'll switch off." Foss replied. After speaking he appraoched the combined Special forces gathered beside the chopper. "Okay, boys. You've met our medic-"

"Too much Boris and Natasha if you ask me," a British soldier said in reference to the stereotypical Russian spies in the Rocky and Bullwinkle show. Foss turned on the young trooper.

"What's your name, soldier?" he asked.

"Bird sir...Tim Bird." he replied. Foss nodded.

"Noted. She isn't my first choice-" he said with a backward glance at the Russian medic as she took a swig of an unknown substance from her canteen. "But we don't have a lot of options. Alright now..." Foss looked around the soldiers, "I want Americans into the Striker, the Brits will start on foot and then we'll switch off.." the soldiers nodded in compliance and moved to follow his orders. "And you..." Foss turned to face the Russian medic.

"Da?" she inquired, looking innocent.

"I want you with me, I'm not letting you out of my sight." he told her. The medic laughed.

"Your concern is touching, captain man," she said mockingly. He merely smiled back.

"I'm not worried about you, I'm worried about putting the lives of my men in a stranger's hands. You just do your job, and I'll do mine." The Russian nodded and walked toward the idling helicopter. Foss turned away from her to face his men. "Ericson, Collins, Kilroy, Savage, Umbrige, Mickinley, Avery..." he addressed all Green Berets. "We're going into unknown territory to rescue men who may not even be alive. I want you all to stay cool, and watch for friendlies in the area." the men nodded.

"Don't worry about a thing sir. I don't mistake friendlies," Matt Ericson, the squad sniper, said confidently.

"I hope you're right, Dead Eye." Foss replied. "Okay, Menrez, get the boys into the Striker and get it ready to roll." Menrez turned to the Special Forces.

"You heard him, let's roll!" the sergeant shouted.

"Why the bloody hell do we have to walk? Damn Yanks thinking they're better than us." one of the SAS men complained to his comrade.

"Easy Johnny. He said we would switch off. Not to mention they are the ones who provided the Striker." Rudolf Finch, another SAS soldier replied in his thick Cockney accent.

"Quit gripping and get on the chopper!" Peters, the SAS sergeant snapped. Johnny Garland knew when to shut his mouth and follow orders.

The twin rotors of the helicopter roared to life as the soldiers crowded into its cramped cargo hold, most of which was taken up by the eight wheeled transport in the middle. US soldiers and British soldiers stood side by side in the cargo hold as the chopper lifted off.

"So, Yank...you ever killed a zed?" a Brit asked. Dave Collins, the American squad's corporal, looked over at the obnoxious soldier.

"My name is Collins. And no, I have never seen Zack." he answered using the American term for undead. The SAS soldier laughed.

"You know what it's like to have a shambling rotter coming at you? it's not pretty, even the best shots panic. Think you can handle it?" he said smugly. Collins simply nodded.

"It can't be that bad. I was in Tikrit during the Second Gulf War. I've fought some of the best the enemy has to offer, dead people don't scare me," he returned. The limey gave a harsh laugh and turned away.

"Don't listen to Ed," another SAS man said, "He's an asshole". Collins nodded.

"I'm Dave by the way, Dave Collins." the young American offered his hand.

"Eric Scully." they shook hands. Dave looked back at Ed and then at Eric again.

"Is it really that bad?" Dave asked. Eric gave Dave a strange stare.

"I have seen men lose it in the DMZ. I hate to think about hat Malton is like." he answered. Dave looked down at his M-4 and swallowed.

Chapter 3

Foss followed Dunn up to the cockpit of the large chopper. He took a seat behind the two pilots.

"Strap yourselves in laddies. We've got one helluva ride ahead of us." the pilot declared in a harsh Irish accent. Foss never realized how diverse the British army would be. But then again, his own forces were from all over the country, Robert Umbrige, the biggest guy in his squadm was from Northern Maine. Mark Mckinley, on the other hand, came from southern New Mexico.

"Ho-lee shit." Menrez swore. Foss looked out the window along with him. He saw the barren strip of land that was the DMZ slide away and become replaced by a grey, dead-looking landscape that was Malton.

"I see some lights still on, they must have power in some areas." Menrez said optimistically. Dunn looked out the window as well.

"Yeah..." he began. "The Malton Survivors. Best to try to avoid them if we can." Menrez looked over at him.

"You said that in the briefing too, Why are we avoiding survivors?" Foss asked. The British lieutenant uttered a harsh, humorless laugh.

"Imagine being abandoned by your country. That's what we did to these people. They might not be to happy to see us." Menrez looked back at the city.

"Jesus." he breathed.

"We're 15 minutes from the LZ, get ready to roll." the co-pilot told Foss. The American captain went back to the cargo area.

"US troops in the Striker! Brits, get ready to secure the area, remember, keep your weapons on semi-auto, and go for the head!" he cried. The troops rushed into action, taking their places and preparing for combat.

The helicopter swooped low over the silent towers of Malton and then preformed a wide, banking turn that brought it over a cleared parking lot. It hovered for a moment, then touched down. The rear ramp was lowered and over half a dozen British soldiers poured out, taking up firing positions in a rough semi circle around the ramp. The olive green striker rolled off next and came to a halt 20 meters or so from the chopper. Foss flashed the pilot a thumbs up from the turret hatch of the Striker. The heavy lifter took off and glided silently away from the landing zone. The silence that overcame the parking lot was oppressive. Foss shouted some orders into the crew compartment of the striker and his men disembarked and aided the British in their perimeter duty.

"Area secured, sir." Sergeant Peters reported to Lieutenant Dunn, who in turn passed the message to Foss by climbing aboard the Striker.

"Excellent. Now, Dunn, what is the exact plan?" Foss asked. Dunn cleared his throat and pulled a map from his belt.

"We just landed here, in a carpark of Owsleybank. We need to head east now, toward Ridleybank." he explained. "The Necrotech building is there. Right in zombie central." Foss nodded.

"Okay, Menrez, you're driving, Dunn, you man the 20mm." both men saluted and took their places in the striker. Foss sat in the open turret hatch and took a look at the perimeter of soldiers that stood around the vehicle. "Let's move out!" he shouted and after giving that order the Striker rolled forward, the perimeter guards keeping pace.

"Hell, I don't like this place one damn bit." Danny Savage told Dead Eye as they walked beside the Striker.

"Don't blame you, this is worse than Sarajevo." Matt returned.

"I have visual contact!," Tommy Killroy shouted as he sighted down his M-4. The striker stopped and all of the soldiers looked down the street. A lone man was walking along, his slow, haphazard steps seemed irregular and oddly spaced.

"He is dead one. Shoot," the Russian medic told Foss as she watched the scene from beside him in the Striker.

"Cool your jets, Commie." he said casually and took out a pair of binoculars. He could make out a low muttering in Russian beside him but paid it no mind. He looked at the lone man through the red-tinted binoculars. The man stopped his shuffle and turned to face the soldiers. The white band on his collar showed his profession as a priest. Foss dropped the binoculars and looked over at Matt. "Dead eye! Drop him!"

The sniper looked from Foss to the priest. "Looks like a civie to me," Matt returned. The priest seemed to suddenly become aware of them. The holy man let out a low moan. Collins shivered at the sound and Lachryma flinched slightly. The priest clawed his hands at the soldiers and began to shamble towards them.

"I said take him down, Ericson!" Foss shouted. This time Matt had no complaints.

"Never shot a holy man before." he mumbled and sighted his scoped M-4 on the priest's head, right between his cold, dead eyes. Matt exhaled and stroked his trigger. The Zombie's head sprayed out a squirt of dark red blood and went down without another sound.

"Good work, Dead Eye." Foss said and was about to order to move on, when he heard a blood-chilling sound. More moans, identical to the priest's were coming from all around them.

"Stand strong! Stand strong!" Sergeant Peters shouted to his troops while moving along the lines.

"Bloody hell, this isn't good." Alec Banks murmured to anyone who cared to listen.

The first of the living dead came into view, there were easily 20 of them on each road, in all four directions from the intersection. The crack of rifles firing in semi auto punctuated the rolling moans of the undead. Foss watched in horror as they took rounds to the torso and limbs without falling. Head shots were few and far between, for his men were scared.

"Lieutenant Dunn! Turn the twenty millimeter on those Zacks!" Foss shouted. Dunn nodded and turned the rapid fire cannon to bear on the oncoming bodies. The dull thumps of the cannon firing deafened Foss with every shot. The large rounds literally tore bodies to shreds, it scattered limbs and ripped individual zombies in half.

"They're still coming!" Tommy screamed to Dave. Collin's eyes darted around frantically to look at the walking corpses closing on their location.

"They seem so peaceful...yet so many..." he said in a shaky voice.

"What are you talking about, Collins!?" Robert Umbridge, the group Corporal demanded. He looked back at Collins who had taken out his Glock and pressed it to his temple.

"Collins!" he shouted and reached for him. Collins closed his eyes and painted the side of the Striker with his brains. "Dammit!" Umbrigde screamed and turned back to start blasting zombies.

"Damn!" Foss cursed upon seeing one of his men lose the will to live. Most of the undead were within 50 meters of the Striker. Now they were beginning to drop quickly from the withering fire being poured into them by the soldiers. However, despite this onslaught, still more of the undead were coming. Foss scanned the bloodthirsty crowd. It was made up of people you would see on the street, cops, doctors, secretaries, college students, nursing home patients, housewives, businessmen, children even. The Captain aimed his own rifle at one of the closer ones. It had a large swollen body, yet its skinny arms told Foss the belly had been achieved after the outbreak. Foss tried not to think of the contents of that stomach. He fired his M-4. It was set to burst and the rounds tore open the zombie's belly. Foss fought the urge to gag as pieces of former survivors poured out. He aimed and fired again, turning the living corpse's face into a red paste. The America sighed in relief.

"Everybody onto the Striker!" Foss shouted. The troops wasted no time in climbing aboard the APC. Once they were aboard, Menrez accelerated forward. Foss felt the Striker shudder every time it rolled over a zombie. The soldiers clung to the side of the Striker, occasionally shooting a zombie that got to close to the vehicle.

"Hell, this is a hundred times worse than Bagdhad!" Danny Savage shouted above the din of combat. Mark looked over at him from his higher point on the side of the vehicle. He saw the grey, rotted hands grab the side of the vehicle.

"Danny!" he shouted. Danny looked at him, then started struggling as the hands gripped his hair. The zombie's strength was so much that Danny's head was pulled over the side of the Striker for a moment. When he finally broke free, he had a nasty gash on his cheek. He scrambled farther up the strker and held his bleeding face.

"Fucker bit me!" he screamed. Mark looked toward the front of the striker where their Russian medic sat. She was eying Savage coldly, but Mark thought he detected a bit of sympathy in her glance. She noticed him watching her and returned his gaze. Mark looked back to his wounded comrade.

"There there." Mark soothed and tried to help Danny while Lachryma looked away.

Chapter 4

The Striker finally made it out of the sea of undead and was driving through nearly empty streets lined with wrecked cars.

Lachryma turned to Foss, "Stop." she said.

"We're a little busy." Foss replied.

"There is wounded, I no can treat them when car moves," she replied. Foss looked back at Danny who still cutched his injured cheek.

"Aw, hell," he mumbled.

The Striker pulled over and the troops secured the area. Lachryma clibmed off the APC and helped lay Savage on the pavement.

"Where is pain?" Lachryma asked, knowing full well where he hurt. She dug through her medic kit with increasing despair.

"My face, I didn't know those fuckers bit so hard!" he said, hissing in pain due to his injury.

"That is bite...Then there is little help, no?" she said. Lachryma took a Tokarev Pistol from her bag. "Your pain is over."

"Whoa! Whoa! Whoa!" Foss shouted and grabbed her arm, "What the hell are you doing!?"

"Infection is going through veins. He is dead one soon. Without needle, anyway," Lachryma said simply.

"Needles? what do you mean needles?" Foss demanded, as the woman looked back at Danny, asying nothing.

"What!? You can't just kill me!" Danny yelled.

"Is only option. Stop whining." she replied. Foss looked between the antique Russian pistol and his wounded trooper.

"Where do we get the needles?" Foss asked quickly. The Russian hesitated.

"We don't have time for one man. There is more to this then just him!" Dunn said, more addressing Lachryma than Foss.

"Look, this is my soldier!" Foss replied.

"We don't have time to go on a hunt. Now I suggest for your sake you stop all this nonsense and forget all about it."

"Necrotech has needles," Lachryma suddenly said.

Foss breathed a sigh of relief, "We'll just get him one and we'll be alright." he said.

"Captain, we cannot-" Dunn began.

"I'm not going to let my man die if I can help it!" Foss snapped. Dunn backed down. "We're going to the nearest Necrotech building, that's final."

Dunn sighed, "Sir. These needles he is talking about. They are nearly impossible to find, the treatment is iffy at best, there is no way-"

Foss turned away already and was walking back to the Striker. Dunn looked from the captain, to the wounded man, then back to Lachryma.

"How the hell did you know about those!?" he whispered. She smiled darkly.

"I is no deaf person, and I listen to surroundings." she said with a smirk.

"God bless you ma'am." Private Savage said, the color had begun to drain from his face. Dunn drew his sidearm and aimed it at the American's head.

"We have no choice." he said and fired.

Foss jogged over from the Striker. "What has gotten into you, Dunn?! We need every man! And I've known Danny Savage for years...what have you done?" Foss spoke quickly and the shock of losing a friend showed clearly on his face. Without any further warning, he punched Dunn in the stomach.

"You monster! You cold, heartless bastard!" screamed Foss as he landed blow after blow on Dunn. The American troops held back their British counterparts as Savage and Dunn's blood mixed on the sidewalk. The Green berets and SAS men watched, unsure of what to do as their commanding officers fought each other.

"Oy!" Sergeant Peters shouted at the two men. His drill sergeant tone of voice got their attention. "I don't know about you blokes. But I want to get the hell out of here. We cannot afford to doddle." Foss and Dunn looked almost confused and then they both stood up, looking both embarrassed and angry.

"Uh...yeah." Foss said uncertainly.

"Worthless capitalist dogs." Lachryma muttered under her breath.

"Fox, go get a first aid kit from the Striker." Menrez instructed one of his men. Avery nodded.

"Yes sergeant!" he said and ran for the Striker.

Lachryma smiled sweetly, "Yes, get medkit. I no treat fools who hurt themselves."

Chapter 5

Private Killroy looked over his shoulder at a derelict apartment building. It had black scorch marks coming from its windows indicating some sort of fire had engulfed it. "You hear that?" he asked the British soldier who stood beside him. Eric shrugged.

"Perhaps. What did you hear?" a loud moan emanated from the ruins. The door burst open and the undead poured forth.

"They're fucking here!" Tommy screamed. The soldiers spun to see the apartment building next to the parked Striker virtually spewing zombies. The men leveled their weapons at the structure and opened fire. Most of the shells passed through their rotted bodies with no effect. Lachryma looked at the panicking soldiers with disgust. Their obvious fear kept them from hitting their targets.

"Oh my God! Oh my God!" the Tim Bird, youngest British soldier gasped.

"Give me rifle!" she demanded. The boy had no argument when she snatched the SA80 from him.

She sighted it on the zombies, picking her shots wisely. The Russian medic easily dropped seven undead before Sergeant Menrez shouted, "Let's bug out!" over the chatter of rifle fire. Foss had no idea where the undead had come from, but in a matter of seconds the Striker was being overrun.

"uh....I....uh..." Foss stammered, his brain wasn't working, the only thing he could think of was the oncoming dead. Rifle fire and shouts filled the air.

"You dirty rotter!" Eric Scully shouted and bayoneted a zombie that got too close. The blade pierced it's milky eyeball and then its disease ridden brain.

"Got another one next to you!" Rudolf told him quickly. Eric swung his rifle put it between him and the corpse of a firefighter. Private Scully thrust the weapon forward and into the zombies rotted chest, it kept it just out of bitting range.

"Bloody bastard." Eric said through gritted teeth as the firefighter gnashed its own broken teeth at him. Then he heard a slight noise from his left. It was a young woman walking beside the Striker. Eric might have thought of her as beautiful if not for her dirt covered face and blood stained clothing. That and the fact that her left eyeball hung from its socket.

"Oh bugger." Eric saw and felt her grab his arm then bite down on it. Blood welled up from his wound. She pulled back, tearing a large chunk of flesh with her mouth. Eric could hear a peircing scream. It took him a moment to realize he was the one screaming. A gunshot that wasn't an M-4 or an SA80 sounded. The firefighter he was holding back had its head pierced. Eric pushed the now lifeless body away from him and swung to knock the other zombie in the head with his rifle but. She fell to her back and he delivered a fatal round to her skull.

Foss watched in horror as everything fell apart. The Striker was in danger of being overrun, one of the SAS men was bitten and his soldiers were panicking. That was when he heard the gunshot. It wasn't one of his men, so it had to be outside help. The captain was able to follow it to its source, a grocery store across the street. He could see a long haired man with glasses sighting a hunting rifle from an upper story window.

"Scully!" Dunn shouted and ran to his comrades aid.

"I'm alright, sir." Eric lied, he held his bleeding arm to his chest with a shaking hand.

"Get that commie medic over here!" he screamed. Lachryma was there only a second later.

"It is bite, he-" she began.

"Eric!" Dunn shouted, cutting her off.

The soldier had the barrel of his rifle in his mouth. He closed his eyes and pulled the trigger.

"Bloody hell!" Dunn shouted and punched the side of the Striker. His knuckles began to bled but he paid it no mind.

"We no can stay. Dead ones." the Russian told him. Dunn saw the approaching walking dead and shouldered his rifle.

"Pull back to Foss's position!" The British Lieutenant ordered. The SAS men fell back while firing.

"What the hell is going on!?" Avery, the American soldier asked from the ramp of the Striker. He was emerging with a First Aid kit in one hand and his M-4 in the other. Dunn didn't know why it took him so long to come outside, but at that point it didn't matter. The young man's expression went from confusion to fear. "Holy shit!" the soldeir cried out and dropped the First aid kit, grabbing for his rifle instead. Dunn looked over his other shoulder and saw at least ten corpses shambling at him. Dunn jumped back, narrowly avoiding their clutching hands. Avery wasn't so lucky. He backpedaled farther into the Striker while trying to bring his rifle to bare. Dunn saw the dead follow him into the APC as sharp screams followed.

"Hey!" a female voice called. Foss and his men turned to look. A woman in blood-stained clothing was holding the door of the grocery store open. Foss noted she had a battery powered CB radio hanging from a strap on her shoulder and a blood-caked baseball bat in her free hand. "In here!" she added.

"Fall back to the grocery store!" Foss commanded. His soldiers didn't need to be told twice, they all flocked to the door, following the woman in. Foss was last to enter, following close behind the medic who still held Bird's weapon.

Chapter 6

Foss and Dunn stood in the freezer section of the grocery store, looking over what remained of their men. Lachryma stood off to one side, looking like she was sulking.

"Well, that was..." Dunn trailed off.

"Men, you were very...look, I know we lost several..." Foss stopped trying to give a pep talk and sighed deeply.

Lachryma stopped looking at her nails, "Hello? We meet saviors now? Or mope around?" With that, she sauntered over to the front of the store.

After a shared glance, Dunn and Foss joined her.

"...So then we saw you and decided to help out the military. It was the right choice, right?" The female survivor was talking with Lachryma.

"Yes, yes, is lovely. You save our lives, is perfect choice," the Russian medic replied.

She turned to Foss and Dunn. "This is Foss, is American leader, and Dunn, is British leader. They fight hard, but get a little scared." Lachryma shared a smile with the civilian.

"Oh, I forget my manners! I'm Cynthia and upstairs is Tom. We are the only ones alive for several blocks," said the woman. "And you are...?" she continues.

"Ah, of course. I is Lachryma, medic at your service." She gestures to the freezer section of the store. "And back there is crack team of Americans and British. Is lovely, no?" Cynthia laughed quietly.

"Well, we use this store to keep supplies, but we sleep in a nearby building. If you follow me, we'll get you military folks on your way." Cynthia began walking towards the stairs.

"Come along, little ones," Lachryma said to the whole room. The soldiers gave each other sidelong glances but stood and followed her out of the room dejectedly.

As they reached the second story, Tom was still silent, his fingers gripped his hunting rifle tightly, his eyes darted around nervously the whole time. Cynthia led them up another flight of stairs to a series of offices and storage rooms.

Foss couldn't help but look around as they walked through the darkened store's rooms, the smell of rotted food clung to everything. He saw the shelves had been cleaned almost bare. At one point he thought he saw a boot sticking out of the restroom door in a puddle of blood.

The woman finally led them to to the roof.

"Almost there." she said, giving the impression of cheerfulness, but not sounding quite as happy as she wanted to. She opened the roof access door and stepped out into the Malton air, with Tom at her heels.

"Hurry it up honey!" he said quickly, Foss caught a slight waver in his voice. It struck him that for such a nervous guy Tom was a pretty decent shot. Cynthia pointed to a makeshift rope bridge that connected the store to an office building.

"Across there." she said pointing with her bat. Her and Tom looked down at the hordes below while the soldiers climbed over, now following Lachryma as she lead them through a window into a lobby and finally into a stairwell pointed out by Cynthia. The first section of stairs had been demolished somehow and replaced with a household aluminum ladder.

"Up there, you can't miss it," Cynthia said. Foss made a point of cutting off the Russian so he could lead. When they reached the first door, he pushed it open.

"Wow." he said. It was a large office space that had been previously filled with cubicals. Now it was empty and the cubical walls were nowhere to be seen. The unobstructed windows gave them a 360 degree view of the surrounding area.

"Home sweet home," Cynthia said with a slight twist of her lips that might have been an attempt at a smile.

"Very nice...Is lovely," Lachryma said and walked into the cleared center of the room.

Once all the troops filled the room, Tom closed the door and sat down, hugging his rifle close to his chest, and put his back against the door. Cynthia sat beside a small hotplate that had an army helmet siting on it, concave side up and steam rose from it.

"Would anyone like some tea? We have only a little though." Cynthia said. The men sat down as well and either accepted or declined the tea until it was all gone. Then there were a few moments of silence. Tom broke them.

"What exactly..." he cleared his throat. "What exactly are you doing here anyway?" he asked. Foss looked at Dunn and then at Lachryma. The latter choice struck him as odd. Why would he look to the medic for help?

"We were sent to get several key personnel out of here." he said. Tom looked impressed.

"Oh....Americans eh? So you just pop in, grab some rich bastard and leave?" he asked, as the malice practically oozed from his voice.

It was Foss's turn to clear his throat. "Well...that wasn't us....I didn't make that call...in fact I just got here." he explained. Tom looked unconvinced.

"Well in any case we're going home now. We're saved." Cynthia said.

"Uh-" Dunn only got one word out before Lachryma sent him a heated glare. He paused and looked at her hand; it rested on the handle of her pistol. The Brit decided to keep his silence.

"Right?" Cynthia asked, her voice cracked.

"Of course not...why the bloody hell should they help us? We've fended for ourselves for so long, we don't need their help," Tom said, trying in vain to clean dirty glasses with an equally dirty shirt.

"Tom, I don't think-" Cynthia began.

"He's right, ma'am." Private McKinley said, he couldn't bear to see them lie to this woman anymore. "We can't rescue you."

"You damn, dirty Yank!" Tom shouted and jumped to his feet, sighting his rifle on Mark as if it was his fault. The soldiers in the room, still shaken from their earlier zombie encounter didn't react in violence, they instead cowered back.

"Wait! What the hell!?" the American shouted and scrambled backwards.

"Tom!" Cynthia practically shrieked. The man hesitated, then lowered his rifle.

"You abandoned us, you heartless monsters," Tom growled.

"Dammit...I can't take this." Rudolf said and shook his head. "We want to help you, but we can't risk spreading the contamination. It isn't our choice, believe me." Tom looked unconvinced. "Look, Tom. We're just soldiers. There isn't anything we can do."

"Is pointless." Lachryma declared and stood up. "We have mission. We waste time. Sorry for bothering civilians," she gives a small bow to Cynthia, "But we have orders to fulfill."

Cynthia looked back out a nearby window. "You're not going anywhere anytime soon I'm afraid. Zed is out in force. You'll have to hole up with us. And it looks like your tank is toast," she said in reference to the Striker. Foss saw smoke rising into the sky; somehow it had caught on fire.

"How did you end up here?" Matt asked. Tom and Cynthia exchanged looks.

"I work here, Tom is my boyfriend, he came when the quarantine started." she said.

"I only came to Malton to get her and now look what happened." Tom complained.

"My best friend was with us too....that is his gun." Cynthia said indicating Tom's hunting rifle. "But...he...didn't take to this life well." she said as if that explained it all.

Foss recalled the body he saw. The party fell silent again. A large booming roar broke the silence. The soldiers all threw themselves flat out of reflex.

"What the hell...?" Menrez asked after he decided it was safe to look around.

"It's just Ackland Mall." Tom said as if the soldiers should have known. "They've got a guy there who can make dynamite."

Chapter 7

After several hours of light sleep, Lachryma was awoken by Cynthia.

"The zombies-They've moved away. I know it's dark out, but I think you can get to where you're going if you're careful."

Lachryma nodded, then realized she couldn't be seen in the still darkness of the building.

"Thank you for kindness, is very helpful. I try to get crates dropped near you when I leave quarantine"

Cynthia said nothing. After a moment of silent thought, Lachryma got up and quietly began waking up the soldiers.

Captain Foss jerked awake. He grabbed for his sidearm but then saw the Russian medic standing over him. She shook her head at his fear and walked off. The American officer stood up and rubbed his temples, the past days events still seemed vivid in his mind. They should have reached their target by now, they were not meant to be stuck here, especially without transport. After Foss prepared his gear he rounded dp the remainder of his men.

"Okay boys. I know things have been rough-" Foss started.

"That's a bit of an understatement." Menrez added. Foss didn't bother to reply.

"But we have to stay strong, we have a mission to do." he finished. The voice he least wanted to hear spoke up.

"Oh sure, get what you came for then bug out. No room for us eh?" Tom asked belligerently. Corporal Umbrige whirled on Tom and seized him by the collar of his shirt. He lifted him off the ground and with a howl of rage thrust him against one of the windows. It shook with the impact. Tom let the rifle fall from his hands and it clattered to the floor.

"You think we want to leave you!? Huh!?" he demanded. The soldiers were to stunned to react. When Tom said nothing Umbridge pushed him against the window again.

"Well!?" he demanded.

Tom looked down, stricken, and he appeared to be almost crying. Cynthia gently pulled Umbridge off of Tom.

"Please, he's had a rough time. Just go," she said quietly.

Lachryma practically strolled out of the room without a backwards glance, and as the soldiers filed out they cast awkward looks at Tom and Cynthia.

Foss carefully set a ration packet next to the tea kettle and was the last to leave.

Chapter 8

Foss unslung his M-4 and paused in the lobby of the building.

"Okay. We've made it this far, we can't stop now. A few blocks up is Ackland Mall. That will be the hardest to get past. It will be besieged by zombies, and the locals are likely to get hostile when they see we aren't going to rescue them."

"Sure beats the alternative." Deadeye said to himself.

"Right. Well then, we have quite a walk ahead of us. Shall we?" Dunn asked.