As he lay down in bed, Sam could hear birds chirping.  It was funny; it seemed the flesh eaters only ate human flesh.  The bare room was flooded with sunlight, so he knew it was morning.  His head burned, but not as bad as he figured it would.  He was only mildly hung over from the night before.  There was no work to be done, so Sam planned on staying in bed until it was time for the game he’d promised to attend.

            A pounding on the door scared the hell out of Sam.  He jumped in the air and reach for his sidearm.

            “Hey Sam,” Rob’s voice shouted on the other side, “you in there?”

            Sam eased his grip on the gun, relaxed a bit.

            “Go Away!”

            “They’re having a big meeting in an hour or so,” Rob said.  “Everybody who’s not on duty is required to attend.”

            “Didn’t they just have a meeting last night?”

            “Yeah, but this is big.  They’re not telling anyone what it’s about so it might be interesting,” Rob said as Sam pulled the covers off and slipped out of his bed.  “I don’t think you want to miss this one.  They even canceled the game over this.”

            “I’ll be right out, just let me take a shower and get dressed.”

            Fifteen minutes later, they left for the meeting.

            Outside of the colony, people were out and about, gossiping.  Children were out playing and several guards monitored their radios.  Sam had not seen this much movement outside since the dead began to walk and neither had the rest of the colonists.

            “Damn, you weren’t kidding,” Sam said in astonishment, “everyone’s here.”

            “I know,” Rob acknowledged, “You think we heard from another colony or something?”

            “Who knows?” Sam said, watching the crowd.

            The meeting was being held outside, in-between two large buildings.  There was already quite a crowd gathered and it was growing by the second.

            “Come on, let’s go find Catherine,” Rob said, “I sent her ahead to save us a spot.”

            In all the excitement, Sam had forgotten about his hangover.  Thinking about it caused the headache to gnaw at his skull again.  This had better be something big.  If they had dragged Sam out of bed on his day off for a routine inventory report, he wasn’t going to be happy.

            Not watching where they were going, a group of rowdy teens ran through the crowd.  They were talking loudly and laughing.  As he looked in the other direction, Sam could see a playground, where smaller children were still playing.  It seemed that even in a post apocalyptic world some things never changed.

            Some things had changed though.  Besides the rising hordes of the undead, there had also been some improvements.  This tightly knit community of survivors had more respect for each other.  Since the colony’s fortification, there had only been one murder.  People worked together and there seemed to be less disdain and cynicism than there had been in the old world.  The fact that at any moment, a loved one could die a horrible death made people appreciate each other.  The flesh eaters were a bigger problem than racism, politics, greed, and religious disputes, so those problems nearly faded away.  It had been years since Sam took any shit because of his dark skin.  He had even excelled in the local militia after the dead began to rise.  The fact that one slipup could result in catastrophe motivated people to work harder and do their part.  There were no slackers in this bunch.  That was a thing of the past.

            Sam wondered if there were any other colonies out there which took a turn for the better.

            “Hey Rob, Sam, over here,” a voice shouted through the crowd braking Sam’s trail of thought, “look who I found.”

            Sam turned around to see Catherine and Jack approach.  They had arrived just in time, for Kyle Franklin, the Internal Executive, walked onto the stage and up to a podium.  Franklin was in charge of most of the nonmilitary matters including rations, manufacturing, and supply distribution.  He was short, standing at about five feet and four inches.  Though he was forty-five, his hair was still thick and black.  Wearing a suit and tie, he dressed like a politician would have dressed before the dead walked.  Since he took over the position seven years ago, Franklin had always been aggressive in his dealings.  Perhaps that was what the colony needed in order to keep working.

            As the Internal Executive approached the podium, the murmur of the crowd ceased.  Everyone wanted to hear what he had to say.

            “Ladies and gentlemen,” he said, “I am so glad that so many of you could make it today.  Late last night, we received a transmission from another outpost.”  There was a general murmur throughout the crowd as the Executive revealed this news.  He waited for the crowd to cease.  “There were sounds of combat, and it is very likely that there were no survivors.”  After more chatter passed throughout the audience Franklin said, “Please listen to what I have to say, this is very important.” At his request, the crowd went silent.  “As the undead broke into the radio room, the operator said something about a cure for the plague.”  The crowd remained silent.  “It is an exciting time.  For the first time in years there is a glimmer of hope that our lives may return to normal.  If this cure would really stop the dead from rising….”  Franklin looked down and took a deep breath.  “It’s an exciting time.  This could very well be the turning point in the war. General Hamelton will be sending out a team of eight to retrieve the cure.  There will be a roster up later in front of the barracks for any volunteers.”  There was an energetic uproar in the crowd.  “I will inform you that this is going to be a very dangerous mission and all of you may die.  This cure might not have survived the attack.  If anything happens, there will be no rescue.  For those of you who are picked, may God be with you.”

            With that, Kyle Franklin left the stage.

*

            After the assembly, Jack immediately went to the barracks to search for the roster.  He wanted to be the first to sign up.

            So many thoughts rushed through Jack’s mind as he made his way across the base.  As ugly as it was, the ghouls were just a part of everyday life.  Jack always wondered what the world would be like if the dead stayed dead.  Humanity would be able to move around outside of the base without arming themselves.  They would not have to ration food.  They would not live with the fear of the gates failing.  They would be able to conduct funerals instead of disposing of colonists as soon as they died.  He thought of a world where he would not have had to shoot his mother after cancer had claimed her.  They would no longer be colonists, but residents or citizens for the world would be their again.  Before, it had all seemed like a distant, pleasant dream but now it was closer than ever.

            It really was an exciting time.

            “Hey Jack, you gonna sign up and kick some zombie ass?” a loud, squeaky, and annoying voice shouted from behind him.  It was Zach Henderson.  He should have known the sick little fucker would have gone to sign up for the mission.  He never passed up an opportunity to mutilate a corpse, whether it was walking or not.

            “Hey,” Jack said hoping the little psycho would go away.

            “You lookin’ forward to wompin’ some zombies?” Zach said.

            “Sure,” Jack said.

            “This is gonna be great!” Zach didn’t even seem to care that they might be searching for the cure.  This mission might end the zombie epidemic which has plagued the earth for the past twenty-two years.

            “I hope there really is a cure there.”

            “It’s probably nothing.  They are probably just going to send out eight lucky bastards to go out there, search the base, and shoot anything bleeding out of its ass.  They won’t find anything,” Zach said, putting a damper on Jack’s hope.  He hated the little creep even more for it.

            “Yeah, but if we do find something…”

            “Trust me, we won’t.”

            To Jack’s relief, they reached the barracks.  To Jack’s surprise; only about twenty soldiers had made their way over after the meeting.

            Jack moved to the roster, which had only one name on it so far: Paul Harker, who even though deeply religious, had joined the guard instead of the church.  After signing the roster, Jack looked around and saw a few other familiar faces.  There was Gerard Falk, a demolitions expert.  Jack could also see Thomas Lewis, Michael Davis, and Peter Wilks.

            Right after Jack stepped away, Zach signed the roster.  Damn, he wasn’t all talk.

            Jack decided to go home for the rest of the day and get some sleep.

*

            As Sam sat in his bed, unable to go back to sleep, he thought about what was happening.  They had received a transmission from other survivors who were now probably dead.  They mentioned a cure which may or may not exist.  Even if they did have some magic cure and it did happen to survive the zombie onslaught, how effective would it be?  Even if it did both keep people from dying of minor zombie bites and kept the newly dead from rising, it would do nothing about the millions of corpses walking around already.  They would still be outnumbered about a hundred-thousand to one.  Any sample they could bring back home would not be enough to inoculate every colonist and there was no way to tell if they could replicate it.  The news was big, but it wasn’t as big as it seemed.  Sam wasn’t even sure it was worth send out eight people out to their deaths for.

            One thing was for sure.  Sam wasn’t volunteering.

            Someone knocked on his door.

            “Come in,” Sam answered.

            At Sam’s request, the guest opened the door and stepped in, he was Captain Scott Hunter.  The Captain was a large, muscular man and seemed to be twice Sam’s size.  Captain Hunter was six foot five to Sam’s five feet and nine inches.  He looked like he could bench press a tank.  He was neatly groomed and in uniform.  Under his cap, his hair was cut in the standard military crew cut.  With his square chin and muscular physic, the man fit the part, but he not only looked like a GI Joe, he was a GI Joe.

            “Lt. Paterson,” Captain Hunter said, “General Hamelton requests to see you.”

            “What does he want?” Sam said rubbing his eyes.  “Today is my off day.”

            “Not any more,” the Captain informed him.  “The General wants you to lead the mission.”

            “Not a chance in hell.”

            “You’ll have to take that up with the General, all squad leaders are to report.  My job’s just to get you there.”

            “Yes sir,” Sam said and soluted.  So much for his day off.

            Within eight minutes, Sam, Captain Hunter, and their escort had reached an old bookstore which was now being used as military headquarters.  There were two guards at the door, armed with M-16’s.  They stood at attention with cold looks on their faces.  It was one of the few places inside of the base where the posted guard practiced such discipline, perhaps because there was always a commanding officer near by.

            As Sam and Captain Hunter approached, the guards soluted.

            “At ease soldiers,” the Captain said.  On his request, the guards stopped saluting and one of them opened the door.  After they stepped in the old book store, the door shut behind them.

            As Sam looked around, he noticed the place was dead.  Only a few secretaries were working.  Normally the place was crawling with military strategists, squad leaders, and all sorts of high ranking officials.  The near empty building gave Sam the creeps.

            “They’re all below,” Captain Hunter informed Sam as he led him to a stairwell.  The captain opened the door and said “this way.”

            Sam followed him into the basement.  As he looked around, Sam could see several strategists, planners, high ranking officers, and squad leaders gathered in groups throughout the room.  There were several large maps of the local area pinned to the walls.  They had been marked up to show explored areas, where there food was attainable, where they had outside emergency shelters, where they had already looted, where the road had become impassable, and other factors which were necessary for the many missions that took place outside.

            Several officers, the top squad leaders, and General Hamelton were seated around a large table in the center of the room.  As Captain Hunter walked to the table, Sam followed.  He had been seated at the table the morning before a mission.  Chances were that these squad leaders were the candidates to lead the search incase Sam refused the General’s offer.

            “Lt. Paterson, I’m glad to see you could make it,” the General said.  “Take a seat.”

            The General was a stout man in his early seventies.  He had seen action in both Vietnam and Korea.  Though he had survived the two previous wars with only a few scars, the General had suffered major injuries in this one.  Before resigning to a command roll, the General used to roll out on missions with the rest of his troops.  His last mission went sour and he’d become one of the few people to survive an undead mauling.  As a result, there was a hook where his left hand used to be.  Because his right leg had to be severed just above the knee, the General wore a prosthetic.  He also wore a patch on his right eye, which had been gouged out in a separate melee.  The General seldom smiled, just grimaced.  He might not have been pleasant company, but General Hamelton did his job very well.

            “Thank you sir,” Sam said as he and the Captain took a seat.

            “Now as you have probably been informed, I would like you to lead this mission.”

            “Sir, I would rather not lead a suicide expedition,” Sam said.

            “It doesn’t have to be,” the General answered.  “I want to send out a team who will come back.  I know if anyone can pull this one off, it’s you.”

            “General, we don’t know if this cure is even out there.  We don’t know how it works.  We don’t even know if it works or even exists.  It might not have survived the attack.”

            “But it’s worth looking for,” the General said.  “I can’t force you to lead the team, but I wish you would reconsider.”

            The General slid some papers in Sam’s direction.

            “If you won’t lead the team, will you at least help us pick the members?”

            Sam nodded, picked up the roster, and began to read the list.  Even to Sam’s surprise, there were only about twenty names.  Four slots had already been filled and there was another reserved for whichever squad leader was lucky enough to lead the scavenger hunt.

            As he reviewed the list of the solders already picked to participate in the mission, Sam saw one of his own on there: Jack Smith.  Not only was the boy a member of his squad, but he was like family to Sam.  Before Jack’s mother had passed, Sam had promised her that he would take care of her son.  There would be no way to talk the boy out of the mission, for he was blinded by his idealism.  Jack probably thought that this cure would win the war.  It wouldn’t.  The cure would not do anything about the millions of undead walking around already.  He couldn’t talk Jack into staying behind, but he couldn’t just let him go out there alone.

            Fuck, Sam thought.  They had probably put Jack on that list so Sam couldn’t refuse.  As the thought passed through his head, Sam felt a rush of anger that he had not felt in years.  Treachery, treason, hate, murder, and all the evil behind the veil of society had not reared its ugly head in the years since the rising.  For the first time in twenty-two years, Sam felt betrayed.

            “Okay, I’ll lead the mission,” Sam said.

            “I’m glad you reconsidered.”

*

            At four in the afternoon, there was a knock on Jack’s door.

            “Who is it?” Jack answered with great anticipation.

            “Special delivery,” a voice at the other side answered.

            “Great, slide it under the door,” Jack said as he moved to the door.

            He was expecting a visit from a messenger, but not quite this soon.  It was probably a note telling him that he had not been selected.  It seemed insane to actually want to go out there, but it felt like the right thing to do.  Jack wanted to personally find the cure and bring it back to the base if he could.  He just imagined what it would be like the moment he found it.  What it would be like to bring it back to the base.  No child would ever have to shoot his mother’s corpse again.

            Not only would it be grand to be a part of something so big, but by selecting him for this mission, it would be saying that he was good enough.  It would mean that he was qualified to participate in such a dangerous mission which required so much, both mentally and physically.  If he was good enough for that, surely his life had amounted to something.

            There was a plain white envelope under the door.  Jack eagerly snatched it from the floor and opened it.  His anticipation so great that he could actually feel his heart beat.  It was insane that he would be so eager, but this was an insane world.  The dead came back from the grave to kill their loved ones, now what kind of order was that?  A guy needs some insanity to survive.  Even stranger was that he needed some insanity to keep together.  Everyone did these days.

            “Thanks,” he yelled out incase the messenger was still there.  Jack had no idea how much time had gone by while he stood there.  Had it been a few seconds or a few minutes?

            Oh who cares?  Just open the damn envelope!

            His hands shook as he tore the thing opened.  His anticipation grew as he pulled a letter out and began to read.

            Private Jack Smith,

            Congratulations, you have been chosen to participate in the upcoming mission.  The mission briefing will be at 6:30 PM in the old book store.  We thank you for your service and good luck.

            Jack’s hands shook as he finished the letter.  He had been accepted, he was good enough!  He would be able to take part in this historical event.  This deserved a drink.  He still had two and a half hours to kill.  One beer wouldn’t hurt.

            He knew it was insane, but Jack just felt giddy.  It felt like he was finally doing something that mattered.

*

            It was six twenty-five when Jack reached the old book store.  The sun was still up and it had been a beautiful and exciting day.  Jack could not remember this much activity ever happening in one week, let alone one day.  Now he was getting ready to go out and make a difference.  Not only that, but he was also going to see some places he had never explored.  He would see more of the once glorious landscape.  He would move into currently uncharted territory and out of the monotony of colonial life.

            Okay you’re here; the time to think about glory is over.

            With that thought, Jack pulled out his letter of acceptance so the guards would let him inside.  It always seemed funny to Jack that there would be armed guards posted inside of such a closely knit community.  They were not at war with another intelligent force and the military actions taken were for the survival of the colony.  There was no reason to worry about spies.  Even if they were fighting other survivors, they would not have access to the inside of the base without attacking it first and by then two guards with rifles wouldn’t be enough to stop them.

            Then again, it was an easy post.  The guards had never needed shoot anyone, but in a world as crazy as theirs, it seemed that every precaution was prudent.

            “Stop right there, let’s see some paper work,” said one of the guards.

            Jack showed them the letter and said, “They wanted me to attend a briefing.”

            “Go on,” the guard said and opened the door.

            As Jack stepped through the door and into the book store, the gravity of the situation finally hit him.  While he had been stationed in front of the building before, Jack had never set foot inside.  Briefing for other missions was always in a smaller building by the barracks.

            The inside of the book store looked very little like Jack had expected.  It did have a sparse office look to it, but had not been totally made over.  There were file cabinets around, even a water cooler.  There were only a few desks and there were still several bookshelves along the walls.  Although dust and cobwebs would have fit in the dimly lit room, the war room was immaculate.  Jack imagined that the lights would be brighter if there were people working, but everyone was downstairs.

            As Jack looked around, he saw a doorway.  There must have been someone on the other side because a bright yellow light emanated through the cracks.  When Jack reached the door, he opened it, went through, and walked down a flight of stairs.

            The meeting was just about to start and Jack had been the last one down.  He could see the other recruits along with essential planners.  Among those attending were Zach, Paul Harker, and much to Jack’s surprise, Sam.  The others participating in the mission were Gerard Falk, Tomas Lewis, Michael Davis, and Peter Wilks, who Jack only knew by reputation.

            “If you will just take a seat with the others,” General Hamelton said, “we can begin.”

            As instructed, Jack took a seat up front.  The General then motioned for one of the strategists to take the floor.  A lean man in an officer’s uniform then got out of his chair and moved to the front where there was a map mounted on the wall.

            “Okay, we have not been able to pinpoint the exact location of the target,” the strategist said, “but we do know that the transition came around fifty miles northwest of this location.”  The strategist then moved a pointer along the map.  “According to the directions, the target is located on the outskirts of this former city,” he then hit the spot on the map where he was pointing, “within five miles of the industrial district.  It shouldn’t be hard to spot.  Now the best way to get there would be to take the long way along country roads and suburbs.  I would advise you to avoid urban zones unless you absolutely have to go through them.”  The strategist then gave more details about where the target was located and what to look for.  When he was finished, the strategist then gave the floor to General Hamelton.

            “Thank you Colonel Higgens,” the General said and then turned to face the onlooking solders, “Lt. Paterson will be leading the mission.  Do everything he says.  Don’t even think about pissing without his permission.  He has been chosen because I think he may be the only man capable of bringing you boys back home in one piece.  This is a matter of life and death, not another cake walk food run.  Make no mistake, this is a very dangerous mission, and if you wish to turn back, now is the time.  We need people who will not panic.  If you think for a moment that you don’t have what it takes, I ask you to leave now.  There would be no shame in it.  For the rest of you, good luck.  I see a very promising group before me and I hope you all come back.”  The General sat down and asked Sam, “Do you have any words you would like to share before we leave?”

            “No sir,” Sam said.

            “Very well then.  We shall meet again tomorrow for last minute details and departure.  Get a good night’s sleep.  You have a big day tomorrow.”

*

            After gathering his rifle, sidearm, knife, survival gear, medical kit, extra ammunition, and other supplies, Jack made his way to the garage.  It was only six in the morning, but the base was wide awake.  There were dozens of civilians out and about, making their way to the main gate where the team would be leaving.  Others looked out of their windows.  Several guards ran crowd control.

            They all had their eyes on him.

            Jack was one of the heroes.  He was one of the men going out, further than anyone in twenty-two years.  He was one of the eight chosen to retrieve the cure for the deadliest epidemic that has ever plagued mankind.

            When he reached the garage, Jack could see Sam and Tom making last minute checks on the jeep.

            “Good, they’re starting to roll in,” Tom said.

            “Eagle Two is ready for action already,” Sam said, “When Zach gets back from weapons detail we’ll be ready to roll.  Everything looks good with the jeep, so you can help us load some of this stuff.”

            On request, Jack went over and helped them load a cooler filled with food, a larger medical kit, and a few other items into the jeep.  After they finished, Sam turned on the radio for a last minute check.

            “Eagle One to Eagle Two,” Sam said. “How’re you doing over there?”

            “Just fine, how are you turkeys?”

            “Just great.”

            After Sam was finished testing the radio, Zach arrived with torches, extra flares, a couple of shotguns and shells.

            “Let’s kick some ass,” Zach said.

            “Hoorah!” Tom yelled.

            “Come on,” Sam said, “This is serious.  We want as little contact with the undead as possible.  If it can be avoided, I don’t want to have to fire a shot until we get where we’re going.”  Sam looked around and picked up the radio.  “Saddle up!”

            “Come on, we got a crowd to please!” a voice over the radio shouted.

            “Last one there’s a rotten egg,” Sam said and then put the receiver down.  “Come on, let’s get moving!”

            With that, they moved out into the unknown.

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