SurvivorZ

51

DENISE

The town of Acton, Massachusetts had earned its place in history during the American Revolution. The part they played in the call to arms initiated by Revere, Dawes, and Prescott remained a part of their colonial heritage since the 1800s.

Over two centuries later, on the day the world ended, the town rallied together again. This time, it was in defense of their borders.

Twenty-first century Minutemen, armed with everything from rakes to hunting rifles, descended on Woodlawn and Mount Hope cemeteries before the morning frost had melted off the ground. Together, they stopped the undead invasion before it began, terminating most of the dead while they dug themselves from their graves. Forest Cemetery on the northern edge of town was the only battle they hadn't responded to in a timely manner, but its small size meant it was less of a threat than the four graveyards near Maynard, or the hospital in nearby Concord.

Town historian, Revolutionary War reenactor and mayor, Gregory Prescott – proud, distant relation to the patriot who awoke locals from their slumber generations ago – knew they lacked the manpower to enforce barricades around the town. Shutting down the two interstate highways intersecting the town's school district and shopping malls alone would have required twice as large a force as they could muster. For this reason, he decided to resort to a modern take on historic tactics in the fight to save his hometown.

Denise and her companions soon discovered this for themselves, after pulling off the interstate on their way east. Their flight from the base left them short on supplies and the means to treat Captain Tate's wounded leg. Acton seemed the likeliest spot to satisfy all their needs.

At least it did, until the local militia materialized from the woods, armed to the teeth.

Since the group outgunned them by a factor of four to one and Captain Tate was out of commission in the back of the truck, she ordered the others to disembark and surrender to the civilian force. Realistically, it didn't make a difference if they were shot by hostiles on foreign soil or a mob of frightened townies. Dead was dead... until it wasn't, of course.

"I'm really getting sick of people pointing guns at me." Lloyd glared at the armed townsfolk surrounding them in the parking lot off Main Street.

"I should think you'd be used to it by now." Denise stood shoulder to shoulder with him. She was stuck reaching for the moon, the same as everyone else.

"I am, but that doesn't mean I have to like it."

"State your business," a voice shouted from the group pointing a variety of rifles at them.

It took Denise a moment to pinpoint the speaker in the crowd. She finally narrowed it down to a wiry figure wearing a checkered shirt and a Red Sox ball cap.

"We're not a threat," she declared. "We're on our way east to hook up with Colonel Hayes and his men. Our captain was shot. We're just looking for some place with the supplies to treat him."

"You found it," he replied, nodding a head towards the Acton Medical Associates sign on the clinic behind him. "And this is as close as you're going to get to it."

"You must be the town comedian," Lloyd snapped.

"You hear anyone laughing?" the man shot back.

"Didn't say you were a good one."

"Lloyd," Denise growled. He rolled his eyes and fell silent.

She took a step towards the men, keeping her hands up. They fidgeted in place, their fingers tensing on the triggers.

"Easy," she said. "We're all breathing here. We're all on the same side."

"The two don't necessarily boil down to the same thing, soldier," the man in the ball cap uttered.