Zombies swarmed the gates with renewed zeal, bashing it mindlessly with the horrible moan accompanying the sound of metal banging against metal. The van was still running, pistols drained of ammo and no backup, Prophet kicked the nearest zombie and entered the driver side door. The other 4 had made it in by killing enough creatures to make a mad sprint for the open canvas at the back of the truck, a few other survivors had need been so fortunate.
The screams of the dead echoed the screams of the living now.
There was no time to mourn or offer sympathies to anyone who might have lost a fond memory to the sea of living dead just now, instead it was a frantic prayer to who knows what and the beeping of a large truck backing up.
Every soft thud was another soul extinguished by Prophet and his truck.
Once outside of the hangar it became very clear just how much this group had missed. Just how lucky they were to have found shelter.
How completely fucked up everything else was.
Zombies swarmed the hangar now, top and sides, and a few of the creatures shambling towards them were carrying something.. Axes. three of them were walking with large woodcutting axes clenched in the decayed flesh of their hands, a fire was sprouting from down the runway where the zombies had evidently breached a different little fortress. Likely with the axes.
Prophet was weeping even as he put the truck off reverse. "I could only save one.." He whined sadly, turning the drive away from that direction in all haste to wherever he had come. Captain Meera was huddled at the back of the truck closest to prophet trying to keep herself together. The realization that these things were something similar to being 'organized' was one thing, but the realization that if prophet had not come.. those axes would have.
The drive was long and quiet on Meera's part, the others in the back (s'you fine people.) might have been talking but she didn't reply. Stuck in the stasis of pure shock and a sudden inability to have an opinion or plan. It all fell to 'prophet' now.]
"My friends.. If I may call you that," Not bothering to glance back but instead lean out the window for a short moment squinting, he spoke loud enough to be heard in the back of the large military van. "I wish I could tell you my name but I do not know it. I suffered a severe head injury on the day, I believe, that you all got holed up in that accursed hangar. When I awoke, I had been rescued and was recovering well. It was not until this morning that I remembered about survivors I'd seen holed up at the runway."
The truck turned down a bumpy dirt road, leading to a farm. In the distance no more than an hours drive was what appeared to a small town. The smoke of fires still wafted from it.
"This farm has been lucky, a great deal of the creatures do not find their way to the small and low populated areas of the world I believe. Few have ventured here. I will leave you here with the caretakers, they will meet you once all of you have settled in. I know of other survivors, I think.. My memory was lost but I still remember seeing pockets of survivors.." A hand rubbed his head gently, as if trying to focus it. "I hope to meet you again soon."
The truck stopped infront of a seemingly Abandoned farmhouse.
The insides of the house did not reflect the outside. It was warm and cozy, though it did not have food inside apparently.
There was 3 bedrooms, 2 on the top floor and one on the bottom, a large brick fireplace with a burning fire, a kitchen, 2 bathrooms upstairs, a large living room looking towards the fireplace, and a small woodshed attached to the side of the house.
The most stunning part of the house was the fence. It was a massive diamond shaped chain wall, attached to thick iron poles set in the middle of a giant patch of cement, that looped all around the large fence. The gate slammed shut as Prophets van drove off.
Meera shivered in the doorway, muttering to herself "He did say to get comfortable.." And sat down near the fireplace.