• Downtown Daringer was desolate. Crumbled buildings blocked any normal route for transportation, and debris piled so high, in some areas they blocked the sun. It made the perfect habitat for vampires and the ghoulish mutants that were sensitive to the sun's warm rays. The zombies...Well, they didn't care. They were everywhere and anywhere, all at once, stupidly dragging their rotted feet along behind them as they wandered the wasteland.
    The jeep rolled up on a disheveled piece of asphalt, which had served as a road before the Earth tore itself apart. The mechanic and weapons specialist jumped down, their combat boots making loud 'thud's when they hit the ground. The gunners were the next out, and then the leader and medic. They rallied up by the side of their vehicle, discussing the mission's details and doing a last look over the foot lockered supplies to see if they needed to trade anything in their duffel bags for some of them.
    "The hospital is on the corner of Danburry and Julian. No street signs are standing so we'll have to go by buildings," Jeremy reported, both hands resting on the strap of the rifle that was slung over his shoulder, "That mess of bricks behind us was the police station. We've got some department stores up ahead, we'll take a right and come across the restaurant district. Taking a left at the end of the district, we'll be on Danburry, and follow along until we see the hospital. Loonsefoot, Jacking, Corrol; you're with me. Ariel, Constance, Tanner; have our backs."
    He stared at them for a moment to make sure they understood, then turned around and started walking. Gabriel, Elijah and Iseigha broke into a jog to keep up with him, while Cora, Hope and Miria lingered by the jeep. The longer they could stay out of the depths of the hot spot, the better.
    "Stick the medic with the gunners, ******** awesome," Cora said under her breath, taking her first steps toward the police station.
    "We promise not to shoot you," Miria chimed as she matched her pace and spun her Desert Eagle around by its trigger guard, "Unless, of course, you get bitten or fall in a sink pit."
    "Ugh...Don't talk about sink pits," Hope pleaded, trailing behind them, "They scare the s**t out of me."
    "Pay attention and you won't have to worry about it," she chuckled.
    Cora pushed her helmet up a bit to expose her forehead, rubbing it to sooth an itch. It fell back in place and she carried on, occasionally shooting a glance down to her feet to make sure she was still on safe ground, her rifle clutched to her chest as if it were her lifeline...Because, well, it kind of was.
    An ear splitting shot was fired off, causing her to spit out a slur of obscenities and duck for cover. When her hearing had recovered from the blow, the laughter of her companions was all too clear. She gave a roll of her eyes and rose to her full height, letting them have their moment while she brushed herself off and searched for what had been shot at. A pale corpse with the head smashed in like a watermelon a couple yards away was oozing brain goop and blood onto the street. Vampire. Dead.
    "Priceless," Hope remarked of his conquest and its consequence.
    "Yeah, real ******** funny, a*****e," Cora snapped, "Nearly blew my ear drums. Give some warning next time."
    He smiled and hooked an arm around her shoulder, pulling her closer for a half-hug and pecking her cheek before saying, "Just doin' my job. C'mon."
    He ruffled her hair and cracked a grin, picking up the pace to avoid being smacked by her. She glanced over her shoulder at Miria, who gave a meager shrug, and the two of them went about following after the trigger happy gunner.
    Up ahead, the leader, his techie, mechanic and weapons specialist rounded the corner to find themselves right smack dab in the middle of the restaurant district, exactly where they needed to be. Jeremy smiled faintly while his brown eyes scanned the area. So far, so good. This recovery mission may just be the first that actually was as easy as it sounded on paper.
    He reached into his duffel bag for his bottled water and screwed the cap off, casually sipping as he walked. Gabriel yawned into his shoulder, vibrant green eyes meeting Elijah's before shifting to search for Iseigha's grays. The youngest memeber of Ruins Naff had his camera out again, paying attention to what he was filiming and little else. His brows raised and he allowed the device's grip string to slide down his arm in order to replace it with his rifle.
    "Zombies!" he shouted.
    The other men raised their weapons immediately, trying to figure out where, exactly, he was seeing the damned undead. They soon locked onto their targets, an entire horde shuffling out of a destroyed building that had, some time ago, been a thriving little bistro.
    "Head, damnit! Head!" Jeremy yelled in an effort to get whoever was shooting at the creatures' chests to stop, "Shoot their ******** heads!"
    "I'm ******** trying!" Iseigha hollered back.
    They fanned out, attempting to cover as much ground as possible. The spaces between them were eventually filled by their remaining team members, and the street broke out into a riot. Their human shouts and beckonings were muted by the howls and moans of their enemies. Every step back they would take, the zombies would edge forward to make up the difference.
    The male gunner was the firs that had to request cover while he reloaded, astonished by the sheer number of zombies. Every time they knocked some down, more just came. The horde was still a horde. The only difference was that it was getting closer, and closer, and closer. He fumbled with his weapon frantically, releazing no one had heard him.
    He grit his teeth and dared to stay in the walking dead's striking zone, busting in one's face with the butt of his rifle, then spinning it in his hands and cutting clean through the muscles, bone and flesh of its neck with his bayonet. The head rolled around at his feet as he managed to finish the reload and fire off a few rounds at the twice deceased's friend, backing away.
    "Hope, get out of there!" Cora's scream pierced his ears.
    He turned his head to look at her and, with a numbing sensation, saw that she and the others had all retreated. It was seven against an uncountable number. They were ready to leave it be and head onto Danburry. Hope swallowed hard and sped up his back-tracking, his gentle blue eyes panic stricken and attempting to watch his feet move.
    "Forget him!" Jeremy demanded of Cora after she broke into a sprint, "He's in the s**t, nothing we can do! It's too dangerous! That's an order, Goddamnit!"
    She threw her hand up in the air to flip him the finger, sliding on her knees once she was close to Hope, who had been brought down, to get even closer. She pushed her rifle out of her way and reached a hand out to him. The horde was surrounding them, inching closer, tighter, like a noose. It felt like time stopped at one point, her hearing distorted and vision blurred. It passed the second Hope grabbed onto her.
    "Get me the ******** out!" he shouted.
    She gave a single nod of her head and brought her other hand down for a firmer grip. She pulled back with all her might to release him of the undead's grasp, her back hitting the ground hard and helmet getting knocked off. He ended up laying right over her. She coughed as a result and looked down at him. Their eyes met, crooked smiles took over their lips. They seemed to share breaths, and something just felt...Different.
    "I ******** hate zombies," he chuckled.
    "...They seem to like you-"
    "Ah...Rahhh! RAHHH!"
    ********. That's right. Zombies. He held onto her hand and helped her up as he got up, all but dragging her with him. He pushed past the zombies, shooting at the ones that were begging for it and eventually managing their escape. They made it to their team halfway down Danburry, dripping with sweat and out of breath.
    "The ******** was that?" Hope sputtered, staring at Jeremy, "Leave two behind? a**!"
    "You were the one that stepped straight into the horde and didn't listen to me. Your fault. Cora...Well, I didn't really think she was going to make it," he admitted.
    "Rot in Hell," she spat, placing her hands on her hips and hanging her head, panting.
    "He has a point. He is the leader, you're supposed to listen to him. If Hope would've done that none of this would've happened," Gabriel stated.
    "You too," she breathed.
    "Guys...We don't have time for this," Miria sighed, "We've gotta get to the hospital. Five hour mission, we don't have time to waste."
    "We have all the time in the Godforsaken world to waste! We almost died!" she argued.
    They fell quiet and looked amongst themselves, then burst into a shouting match.
    "It's your own fault!"
    "It's your fault! You and your s**t leadership!"
    "Oh, leave him alone, he's just doing his job!"
    "Leaving team members to die is a job? s**t, I want that. I'd kill all of you!"
    "You don't have the guts!"
    "Don't ******** test me!"
    "Bring it, b***h!"
    "Knock it off, guys..."
    "You stay out of this!"
    "For the love of life, will you all just shut the hell up?"
    The shouting match came to an end, although a smacking match continued. Jeremy pulled Cora off of Miria, Hope off of Gabriel and Iseigha off of Elijah, holding them back. It wasn't the first time this had happened, and it wouldn't be the last. They knew each other too well.
    "...How about we get our s**t together, make it to the hospital and have lunch?" he prompted after a moment's silence.
    It took awhile for all of them to agree to that plan rather than the fighting, but they did nonetheless. They got ahold of themselves, fully loaded their weapons and made sure none of them were lacking any supplies, walking onward and leaving little trace of their presence. Their only trail was the occasional spot of blood, dripping from a small bite mark on Hope's ankle...