It was past noon and their guests still hadn’t shown up.  Maybe they’d sent a scouting party out to spot the trap.  Maybe they’d run into trouble on the way in.  Either way, the waiting made Sal nervous.

            Before he left Patterson had asked him: “Are you sure you want to go out there?”

            Sal had told the former cop that he got claustrophobic.  It was partially true.  Sal felt suffocated in the urban environment, and especially when trapped inside of a building.  He’d rather be harassing his query outside.

            “If we get out of this alive, you and what’s left of your people are welcome to stay with us,” Patterson had said.

            The world really must have turned upside down if I feel I can trust a cop, Sal thought.

            He went out as part of a four man team.  The other three men all seemed to be fifteen to twenty years younger than him.  In undead territory, the first rule of survival was to never go out alone.  Ideally, Sal would have liked three four man teams to accomplish the mission.  With so few men on hand, they’d been forced to split into a pair of two man teams.

            Again, Sal volunteered for the dangerous part of the mission.  He and a soldier named Burt were dropped off in an alley where there didn’t seem to be any zombies roaming about.  He spotted a five story building to where they jogged, then set up camp on the second story fire escape.  Sal wanted mobility, but he also hated waiting in the street.  He wasn’t worried about the view because the enemy would roll right past them.  They just had to be out of sight when it happened.  They were guerilla fighters.

*

            Running past Olmstead’s bullet riddled corpse brought Catherine little satisfaction and while retreating from the undead she had no time for relief.  How Lou could navigate the dark corridors, Catherine had no idea.  To her, everything looked the same.  They could have been running in circles and she wouldn’t have known.  To make matters worse, if a number of undead had hidden away in some pocket of unexplored sewer tunnel, how could she know that there weren’t more of them waiting somewhere else?

            They’d stopped firing minutes ago.  When she could no longer hear the ravenous moans, Catherine assumed that they’d lost their pursuers.  Maybe she didn’t believe the notion, but she allowed herself to hope.

            “This way,” Lou shouted.  They sprinted through another tunnel, then abruptly stopped.  There was a ladder leading up.  “If I’m not mistaken, this should lead us to the east side of the compound.  I doubt there are too many of the undead on the surface there.”

            “It only takes one if you’re lucky,” the soldier said.

            “So you’re not volunteering to go up first.”

            “Be my guest.”

            With that, Lou ascended the ladder, sliding away a manhole cover when he reached the top.  He braced his back against the edge as he aimed the rifle around.

            Looking back down, he shouted: “You two might want to hurry.”

            The other soldier signaled for Catherine to go up first.  When she reached the top, she was a thin wall of the undead about fifteen yards away.  They lurched straight for the manhole.

            “Fuck me,” she said.

            “I’d love to, but could you get out of my way first?” the soldier shouted below her.

            Without voicing offence at his response, she scrambled out of the hole.  When his head poked out, the soldier had a similar response to hers.  Lou and Catherine helped him up and they ran towards the nearest building.  Snipers fired from the rooftops in all directions.  There were shouts as people saw the trio emerge from the sewer.

            The medical center’s door opened and a tattooed blonde stepped out, waving at them.

            “Hurry, get inside!” she shouted.

*

            Before she started seeing ghosts, Helen had never thought much about an afterlife.  She still couldn’t bring herself to believe in God.  But now, she wondered.  If their trap failed and they were all killed would she spend the rest of eternity in Jack’s arms or would she be punished for her atrocities?

            Faces of those she killed flashed before her eyes.  She remembered about a year before when she’d helped a small party hunt down a group of fleeing refugees.  They were led by three men who obviously knew how to handle themselves during a firefight, but most in the group were women and children.

            She’d engaged and killed all three men from a distance and watched as the others disable their truck.  They’d fired two shots inside, presumably at someone who tried to fight them, then forced the survivors to hand over the youngest of the children.  The field commander then set the vehicle on fire with the refugees locked inside.  Helen had killed the men from a distance, but she could still hear the horrified screams.  Later in nightmares, she’d vividly imagined the occupants burning to death.  Two of them were always her parents.

            Though many people had welcomed her with open arms after she’d abandoned the cult, Helen knew she’d never forgive herself for not fighting sooner.  Though she’d never trade her time with Jack for anything, Helen would always wish that she’d have turned the gun on the Messiah instead of her father’s animated corpse.

            At least this battle was different.  She was fighting along side people she trusted and for a cause other than her continued parasitic survival.

            She held a firing position at the second story where she’d been instructed to nest.  George Lindsey, the man in the yellow shirt, had introducer Helen to the men she’d be fighting beside.  Most of the troops were posted at the second and third floors, so there were ten new faces.

            Though she was on the most crowded floor, Helen felt alone.  Jack, Sam, and even Ted were on the two floors above her.  Sam had been posted on the third story with Rick.  Jack and Ted were together down the hall from Jasper and Sarah.  McRee had insisted that his daughter be posted with the one other person he knew, just as Sam had insisted Jack and Ted be together.  After being separated from him, she wished she could be with Jack during the fight, but she could see why the two boys were put two floors up.  Sam figured Helen could take care of herself and the second story would probably take the most heat.

            The pressure of Jack’s lips against hers still lingered as Helen thought about their last kiss.  She dreaded what would happen if they survived the battle.  Her lust was tainted by the memory or Lenux forcing her face first to the ground, ripping her pants off, and shoving his way inside of her.  She hated associating the image with Jack, but she wondered how she’d react when they finally made it into the bedroom.  As much as it frightened her, she regretted not having more time.  Helen didn’t want rape to be her only experience with sex.

            Frustrated, she almost fired a shot into the crowd of ghouls below.

            We’re coming to get you, Helen, a familiar and dark voice rang in her head.

            Not now, she thought.  She wished Jack was there to hold her.  Though he’d been lucky, Jack had killed Lenux and he was the only person who might be able to comfort her.

            She shivered, not knowing if the chill was in the room or her soul.

            Before you die, I’ll make you watch as we nail him to the floor and feast upon his intestines.  He’ll regret ever meeting us.  He’ll regret killing me.  And most of all, he’ll curse your name!

            As the voice left her, an approaching convoy caught her eye.

*

            “You got any more room on that roof?” Lou asked.

            Tori, the tattooed blonde, nodded.

            Without another word, the two soldiers moved towards the stairs.  Catherine turned to the blonde.

            “I’m a doctor.  If you need help tending to the injured let me know.”

            “Oh I’m sure we will after this is over, honey,” Tori said.

            Catherine gave her a reassuring smile and followed the others to the roof.  While they would need all hands treating with the injured later, they needed every loaded gun that could aim from the rooftop.  Two minutes after they closed the door, the undead began slamming their palms against the door and walls.

            With such a small outpost, the medical center wasn’t large.  It was three stories high with a basement.  Though she couldn’t guess what kind of building it had been before being reclaimed from the dead, but it hadn’t been a hospital.

            When they reached the rooftop, Lou was already walking to a bare spot on the roof.  There were fifteen other men up there, taking shots at the crowd below.  She picked a spot next to him.

            “How many of them do you think are down there?” she asked.

            “I’d rather not think about it.”  Lou looked around to make sure nobody else was within earshot.  “After retreating from HQ, my boys had a plan to keep more of them from getting in.  Let’s just hope this stays a secret.”

*

            “It took them long enough,” Turnbull said.  Three soldiers had accompanied him to the roof.  He thought about posting Sam Paterson on the rooftop with him, but he didn’t see the need.  Besides, Paterson had a good head on his shoulders.  He’d kept his cool very well while Turnbull’s brother had nervously aimed a gun at the former cop’s head.  Gideon felt better having him watching his brother.

            Before spotting the convoy, Turnbull saw a helicopter circling around the east.  On the lower levels, the blades would have been drowned out by the undead moans, but he could hear the faint whoosh just fine from the rooftop.  Without cover, Turnbull didn’t like his odds against the helicopter, but he was their best chance to take it down.

            He smiled at the irony.  In every other war he’d been a part of, Turnbull had welcomed the sound of chopper blades.  Air support had normally meant cover, reinforcements, or extraction.  Now all he hoped was that the gunman had a lazy eye.

            Fat chance, he thought.  Fuck, why did I agree to this?

            His men took crouching positions, aiming their rifles at the chopper.

            Before anyone had a chance to exchange fire, something streamed towards the helicopter, leaving a smoke trail.  Gideon blinked twice before the projectile struck the ruttier, blasting the chopper into a downward spinning spiral.  The explosion rattled the building and briefly drowned out the moans below.

            “Holy shit!” one of his troops exclaimed.

            Turnbull wondered how the troops below, who hadn’t seen the chopper, reacted.

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