Restless

Nowhere is Safe

Charlie was still awake, outside his car in the cool night air, when the first screams ran through the night, wolfish sounds preying on his ears. He grimaced and tried to focus on finding a way out that wouldn't get them killed.

Charlie had been perturbed by the recent breaches in the perimeter, especially since it had almost cost them lives of Lydia and Elli. Charlie decided to commit to a watch of his own during the night, and it seemed to pay off, in these terrible circumstances.

Quietly as possible, Charlie furiously shook Lydia awake. "What's going on?" Lydia asked blearily.

"The lockdown is breached. I can already hear the dying. If we don't move, we will become like them," Charlie calmly said, attempting to scare Lydia into awareness.

"Oh god, you're certain? We have to get Elli and bring her to the car right now!" Lydia shakily worried.

"Try to stay quiet, and stay here in the car. Don't let anyone but me and Elli in the car. We are getting out tonight, count on it," Charlie stubbornly reassured Lydia. Maybe he was reassuring himself too. It was going to be lonely going to get Elli. At least hopefully. The dead don't make the best company.

Charlie hurried down the path, cringing at every broken branch. Moving through the woods silently was not a skill he possessed. Hopefully he could move fast enough to get Elli and make it back to the car in one piece.

Before the breach, approximately 7:00

John blearily woke up to a furious pounding at the door of his room. The civilian housing was considerably better than the barracks, but it was still packed with soldiers in an attempt to emulate their normal quarters.

Another positive of active duty in civilian sectors was the fact that they hadn't needed to set up their own camp, as they would in active duty in another country. The civilians had wanted the soldiers to hold in their homes, and keep them safe.

John fumbled the knob of the door. He had never been the best at the drills that required him to wake from sleep and commit to a duty, as they might in active combat during the night.

"Who is it?" John asked into the yawning darkness of the hallway.

A hand shot from the dark hallway and grabbed a fistful of John's hair, and attempting to pull him into the hallway.

This is where repetition and continuos drilling paid off.

Even without being fully awake, hours of drilling can make responses to situations instantaneous.

Instead of resisting the forward motion, John used it to his full advantage, thrusting himself into the attacker. The form smashed into the wall and crumpled, releasing John for the moment.

The men in the bunks with him had already begun moving, turning on the lights to see the enemy. The dead had let themselves in, presumably through the men on watch. John cursed himself under his breath, he had raised no objection on letting the new recruits take the watch on their own.

The army might now pay in blood, guns in these short quarters were too dangerous, friendly fire would be rampant. They would have to use melee tactics to neutralize the threat.

One of the men behind John whistled to gain the attention of the men in the other rooms. Four dead ones had gathered at their door, and now surrounded John now that he was in the hall.

The one he had knocked down with a blow that would have dazed any normal living being for minutes was already getting on its feet.

John's knife was pulled from its conveniently held strap and buried into the neck of the dead one before it had a chance to face him. It still gnashed its teeth at him, trying to get a hold on any exposed flesh on his body.

Twisting the knife, and pulling it free, he found himself mobbed by the other three dead ones. No chance to escape, he would have to attempt to fight each off of hime before their teeth could gain purchase.

One bit at his face, nearly clipping off his nose with the inhuman force of the bite. Another gripped his arm in both hands and clamped down with his teeth, tearing through his soft night clothes and drawing blood.

One of the other men had stabbed the dead one in the back, but the knife was left buried when another dead one tackled bodily into him, bring him to the floor.

The dead one had landed on his foot, knee brought up to his chest to hold off the grabbing hands of the dead.

He forcibly kicked the dead one off, but was mobbed by two more dead. The dead were pouring in from the stairs, a flood of dead that they couldn't hold back.

John bellowed in frustration and pain as another dead one dug into his flesh, this time with their dirty nails. Bullets began to fly, even against regulations.

In the face of death, there were no rules except to survive any way possible. The shouts and screams of men and civilians alike began to match in chorus, as the unstoppable tide of the undead bore through the camp.

John was abruptly silenced, a rogue bullet already burying itself into his brain, fired from some rookie soldier. The pain and screaming suddenly ceased from one soldier, his name being John.

The darkness that enveloped him was almost instantaneous, but not fast enough to end his final thought.

John felt relieved that he wouldn't be the one to have to live through all the death and destruction that this night would bring. He had let down the civilians. Now he wouldn't live long enough to regret it.