I snap awake, startled by the scratching and banging on the windows. They had found us, but how? Not that I hadn’t realized it was inevitable, but there were a lot of them. What did we do to attract so many? Then I hear it, the loud bang of a shotgun. Was it that kid? Did it matter? Whoever it was they were drawing great attention to our position, and I knew that Austin heard it too when he came running into the kitchen yelling my name.

“Will! Will!”

“Quiet,” I shush him,”This isn’t the time there are a lot of ghouls out there. Some dumbass with a shotgun has gone crazy and is blowing off the heads of ghouls. We need to leave.”

“You’re right,” Austin says with a ponderous look on his face, “the back door will suffice, am I wrong?”

“No. Go get the supplies and let’s go.”

“Hey Will?”

“Yeah,” I say, not expecting a question in this time of crisis.

“What time is it?”

I was uncertain, I rolled up my sleeve and looked at my watch, “12 a.m.”

“Damn, this asshole is out at 12 in the morning shooting ghouls, does he not realize that he is attracting even more zombies of the area?

“Maybe he was bitten, and wants to die.”

“Even so,” Austin says, “he should want others to live . . .” Austin trailed off and went into the living room and picked up the packs, he threw me my tan backpack and I strapped and secured it to my back. Austin took the bar off the backdoor and pulled his shotgun off his back.

“Little noisy don’t you think?” I muse.

“There’s already a crazy jackass with a shotgun in the middle of the night, why not add another?” I force a smile.

I took out my .45 and shot at the zombies near by. There were at least thirty in the vicinity. Any that got within ten feet I put a bullet in their brain. Austin had my back, pumping a shell into any that would try to grab him. We worked our way into the streets, the guy with the shotgun was not the kid but, by the look of him, was in his thirties. He (not surprisingly) had a group of undead surrounding him in a cul de sac. He was protecting his famiy (a wife, and two children) it was saddening, but there was no way to help him and they were doomed anyways, we had to survive, no use making two ghouls trying to save those that are already doomed.

We ran through the blood stained streets of Austin’s neighborhood, keeping our back-to-back formation. We reach the entrance to his neighborhood and jump into a dormant car, after Austin hot wires it we drive away.

“Where are we going?” I ask Austin.

“We’re going to San Antonio.”

“Why the hell are we going to San Antonio.”

“I’ve heard there is a survivor camp up there. They’re going to storm Dallas so that they can have a place to wait for rescue.”

“Alright. But what about when the car runs out of gas. Right now it’s only half full,” I say pointing at the meter.

“We walk.”

“San Antonio’s a long way away on foot.”

“Well, what other hope do we have.”

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