The Sacrafice Episode -Part I

Everything was dark, a sharp pain shot through his side with every fevered breath. He was laying at the base of a steep hill, he didn't know how long he had been out. The last thing that he remembered was that he was running down the steep trails away from a group of zombies that had ambushed his camp.

Peter Foree, took a second to regain his senses, the sharp pain of a broken rib was hammering at his side. Trying to get to his feet the familiar pain of a twisted ankle brought him back to his knees. A manageable injury under normal circumstances, is a deadly burden considering. Something had to be done, and the dark woods with a pack not far away was nowhere near ideal.

Sitting there he listened, silent motionless, calming his breath, listening, searching, trying to detect the sounds of the dead, breaking branches, dragging, heavy steps, and the moans. Nothing, not even the chirp of insects, not a good sign, the Z weren't far off a few minutes till they would discover him. He tore into his bag, the bandage was around his ankle in seconds, a few painkillers were down with a gulp of water. He would have to deal with the pain till they kicked in.

He pulled the map from his back pocket, precious seconds flew by as he got his bearings, 6 miles to the safe house they setup. Peter faced a hard trek with a heavy burden. The darkness seemed to just close in, the odds against him. A few deep breaths, in... out.... in... ou-CRACK

The crisp sound of a breaking branch, not fifty feet away, it was close, it was time to leave.

Ever so quietly, Peter limped off as quickly as he could, his heart pounding again. He knew he couldn't rest till he got to the safe house, a few hours till he could rest again, a few hours until he was safe.



3 hours before



Four dark figures were gathered around a pot over a single propane burner. The largest figure was speaking, his voice at a hush, almost drowned out by the soft roar of the burner.

"This is the last of the cans, maybe two days of dry. We need to face it, we need to go shopping again... "

A voice quivering from fear next to him cryed, "No! I won't, we lost Tom, and Liz last time. We can't lose anyone else, I can't handle it."

"Abby calm down, it won't be the same, Liz was careless, and Tom was stupid... he tried to be a hero. Jim's right, either we go, or we starve here. How far are we going to have to go for supplies now?" The voice, only described as soulless, the voice fit the man. Know one knew him, or his past, he had joined the group a few weeks ago. The crew found him held up in a small gas station, during one of the first shopping session. He presented himself as Guy, and that was it, the one thing that everyone noticed was his calm and coolness at all times.

The girl next to him spoke up, "We'd have to go into the next town. Everything ten maybe fifteen miles around has been looted. The gas is running low too, we might have fifty or so gallons between the cars. It's not good, we can't stay here much longer, even if we do get more supplies how long until we run out again." her soft features highlighted by the dim glow of the burner. Allison, a hometown girl. with an adventure streak.

"Look, we need more supplies even if we plan on moving. If we break up into two groups we should be fine. We'll talk with Pete, and ..." Jim was interrupted by radio static from the two-way radio.

"...ZED! ZED! ZED!... Sprinter pack spotted us, they're the front of a much larger group. Pack it in, get ready to leave, we'll be in under five, be at the door first."

The voice washed with static, had just given some of the worst news possible, Three figures froze, the fourth lost in thought.

"There's no time to waste, alley get to the door, Jim, Abbey grab whatever and get them into the car and truck. I'll cover from the roof." the usually cool voice was now feverish, and rushed, his normal sense of calm lost, he nearly seemed weak at that moment.

The group brought out of shock, sprang to action, lights flickered on, the group scattered.

Outside the darkness seemed thicker, a menacing aura lurked just beyond view. A lone figure was perched on the roof, a hunting rife extending from his shoulder. The figure scanned the area below, where were they, an second he should be able to see them. There, about a hundred yards out, behind them a group of six sprinters a few hundred feat away. The pack was closing in, they wouldn't make it all the way back, he had to make his shots count.

Two shots ring out into the night, two zombies were down another loud crack, another zombie down. He was slow, he needed to take out the others fast. He re-aimed quickly, another pull of the trigger another one down. He dug the stock into his shoulder, he focused in on zed number five, another crack, but this time the zed didn't fall. The bullet had torn through the lower jaw, and exited the neck. It was going to be close but Guy kept his aim another crack, this time he fell for good. This was it the last chance, no time for another shot... steady... steady..., now. His finger clutched around the trigger,his steel grip closed on the trigger in a second, click. A miss fire, bad, pull the bolt and eject it, ready aim. The zed was in the scope, steady... too late the zombie had reached it's goal, one of the pair was down. A scream echoed from downstairs at the same moment, Ally had been watching.

Guy had just failed, he couldn't help him anymore, those two were on there own. He took his eye away from the scope, not daring to watch what would unfold be it good or bad. He climbed back in the window to join the others down stairs. A man soulless, and emotionless, was now broken, he wore a face of despair.