A bullet whizzed by my head and I turned to glare at the idiot who thought it was alright to shoot so close to me. John had his gun raised and was picking off the closest threats. Well, I trusted John more with a gun than anyone, but I still didn't approve of him shooting so close to me. The slide of my gun popped back, signalling that the magazine was empty. All those bullets used and I had only taken down three infected, I really needed to work on my aim when under pressure.

"Bailey!" Ethan yelled over the fray.

I spotted him opening the truck door and stabbing the keys into the ignition. Taylor hopped into the passenger side, since he was closest. I dug into my pocket and produced the van keys.

"John, let's go!" I screamed at him as I ran for the van.

He held up his hand for the keys and I tossed them to his opened palm. I was too worked up to fight over who was driving and plus, with my shaky hands I wouldn't be very good at the moment anyways. The engine sputtered, but started quickly when John turned the keys. He put it in drive and floored it, smashing into the zombie who was unfortunately right in front of the grill. Blood and goo, splattered all over the windshield and the body crunched under the wheels as we ran it over. John flipped on the wipers and the mess smeared on the windshield.

I let out a nervous laugh at the sight and John gave me a questioning glace out of the corner of his eye. I waved it off. After a few more wipes, the windshield was clear of the mess. John avoided hitting anymore of the infected, steering the vehicle away from the bodies coming towards us. We peeled out onto the road that passed behind the Wal-Mart, the wheels squealing in protest. The smell of burnt rubber wafted into the van.

I turned to look out the back window only to realize I couldn't see over the mound of supplies crammed into the back.

"They're right behind us." John pointed to the side mirror.

I spotted Ethan's truck a few car lengths behind us and breathed a sigh of relief. John led us out of the town and back onto the interstate. He continued heading north.

"So I take it we are still going to Gretna?" I asked.

"We need to see if they have a police radio and scanner. Maybe we can start broadcastin' and see if anyone hears."

I glanced back at the side mirror to see that Ethan's truck was not right behind us anymore.

"Ah, John." I pointed to his side mirror.

"Shit!" He put on the breaks and slammed his hand against the steering wheel.

We were sitting in the middle of the three lane highway, a few wrecked and abandoned vehicles sitting nearby. There was an unmoving body lying face down by the rusty Mustang.

"Are you going to turn around?"

"We will give 'em a few more minutes. I'm guessing Ethan tried to go back to the cabin."

There was no way Taylor would allow that, so I fervently hoped they didn't start fighting. Taylor would easily throw a punch and Ethan was just worked up enough that he would return it. We waited in silence for a few more minutes, our breathing and the engine, the only sounds in the van. I opened my mouth only to shut it again when I spotted the black Chevy coming up behind us.

"See." John put the van back into drive and we continue along the interstate.

"Do you think that horde will follow us? Or at least start moving our direction?" I mused out loud.

"Dunno, I hope not. But let's just hope they head this way instead of towards the cabin."

We approached the Gretna turnoff in just under an hour. I only counted a handful of infected during our jaunt down the interstate. John easily avoided them, making use of all three lanes. The turnoff wasn't blocked with cars like the last one, so our entry to Gretna was already smoother than the last.

"Any idea where the police station is?" I asked.

"I got a rough idea, I've only ever set foot in Gretna once before. Had no reason to go to the police station."

The town was a decent sized one, not too large or small. We passed by the main drag of stores then ended up in a relatively new development of houses. They stuck out amongst the rest of the aging infrastructure.

"Are you also noticing the lack of any infected? Or bodies?"

"Just thinkin' that myself. A town this size should have some out and about."

"Stop!" I commanded.

John hit the brakes without question and I stepped out of the car. The last portion of the new subdivision was all just empty lots. But that wasn't what had caught my attention.

"Ho-ly shit," John said in a low voice as we approached the last lot.

It looks like they had managed to dig the basement, but instead of being filled with cement, the hole was filled with charred and burnt bodies. The stench of scorched charcoal and gasoline, mixed with a foul smell I couldn't place, drifted off of the massive pile. There must have been at least a hundred bodies in there. Whether they were the corpses of infected or not, I had no way of telling.

"You can still smell the burned flesh, whoever did this must have added to the pile recently," John observed, making me even more nervous.

Taylor and Ethan had joined us, both just as disturbed by the sight as we were.

"What the hell?" Ethan asked to no one in particular.

"You think whoever did this is nearby?" I asked.

"I'd bet on it and to do somethin' on this scale, it would need more than one person." John rubbed his hand along his jaw line.

"Well this is probably the most efficient way to deal with the infected," Taylor said.

"If they were all infected," I voiced what I'm sure the others were thinking.

"Come on, let's keep movin'," John prompted.

We drove in silence, following the blue signs that showed us the way to the police station. John made sure to drive slower, trying not to draw attention to ourselves. Since we were the only moving vehicles on the road, driving slower was futile. The police station appeared on our right; a chain-link fence surrounded the perimeter.

John spotted them before I did, "I'm willin' to bet these are the folks who did the burnin' back there."

There were two men stationed at the make-shift front gate. The chain-link had run all the way along except for the break in the front. Which was now covered with a brand new moveable chain-link gate; you could tell due to the shininess of the gate compared to the rest.

Now aware of our presence, the two men approached our van with their weapons drawn. Both had black handguns pointed right for us. They weren't wearing any police or military type clothes; just green cargo jackets and jeans. One man veered off towards Ethan's truck while the other came up to the driver's side. I gulped as the man opened John's door.

"Get out," the man said forcefully.

"Alright, we don't want any trouble," John said calmly.

"You too," the man said as he noticed me in the passenger's seat.

I reached for the door, fear making it hard to grip the handle. Were we being taken hostage?

"It's gunna be fine," John looked me in the eye and nodded.

"Now!" The armed man demanded.

After a few attempts, I managed to open the door; my legs were shaking really badly. It's been two months since we have seen other people and these were the first one's we'd run into. This wasn't a good sign. Ethan and Taylor were ushered out of the truck by the other guard.

"Turn off the van."

John did as he was told and discretely picked the van key off of the key chain, slipping it into his pocket. The guard grabbed the key chain from John's hand while keeping the gun trained on him. The other guard followed suit and took Ethan's keys from him. They were both average height and not particularly muscled, but they had guns aimed right at us so starting something wouldn't bode well for us.

"Get over there." He pointed with his pistol to John, so I walked over to stand beside John.

My legs were like a hundred pound weights, fear making my limbs cease up.

"Open up," The other guard yelled and the chain-link gate started to move.

It took two men from the inside to lift and swing open the wide gate. They were dressed in similar attire; they almost looked like a hunting group.

"Move."

I looked at John, the terror clear as day on my face.

He whispered to me, "Just follow my lead and we will get out of here."

With the guns pointed at our back, we were ushered into the compound. There was not much room between the fence and the building, especially along the sides. Our vehicles would not have fit inside. The gate was closed behind us and the two men who had opened it stood at the ready.

The front doors to the police station opened and one man strolled through, as if he owned the place. He was wearing a faded green wife-beater top and army cargo pants. His belt boasted two gun holsters, which were not empty, and a rather large knife. Tattoos covered his one arm and he was wearing a pair of motorcycle gloves. As he got closer, the taller and bigger he became. He must have stood well over six feet and had the body of someone who devoted at least two hours a day to weight training. His face didn't show any emotion as he approached us.

"Conner, did you check them for weapons?" The intimidating man barked at the guard who had forced us out.

"Will do," Conner panicked and motioned for the others.

They descended on us and I instinctively backed up. John shook his head at me, silently telling me to remain still. The guard patted me down and removed my Beretta and knife, while the other guards did the same to the rest of my group. They gathered up our weapons and placed them in a large garbage bag. Now we were really screwed. I didn't like the looks of this group. There was one man stationed on the roof with a hunting rifle. He didn't seem too concerned with us; his weapon remained impassive at his side.

"Now what brings you all to Gretna this fine day?" The muscled man asked, trying to sound conversational.

"We just wanted to see if we could find a police radio or scanner, that's all," John spoke up on our behalf.

Not that any of us were considering speaking up. I'm pretty sure if I were forced to speak, that my voice would come out in a squeak. I have never been so terrified in my whole life; even the infected didn't scare me as much as this group did. I flexed my fingers, trying to get the involuntary stiffness out of them. Apparently extreme fear made my joints buckle and stiffen. This was something I could have gone my whole life without knowing and been happy about it.

The man smiled at us, while the rest of their crew remained silent. It was clear he fancied himself the leader of this paramilitary type group. They looked like a rag-tag bunch of macho men, not proper military like John. His demeanour was a lot more professional than theirs.

"Why don't you come inside and we can maybe discuss a trade? My men tell me you have two vehicles full of supplies."

It wasn't until then that I noticed the walkie-talkies they all sported on their belts.

"I think out here would be best." John eyed the man warily.

"Now you've hurt my feelings," their leader tsked. "I would have liked for you to take the offer voluntarily. Now, I must insist you come inside."

He nodded his head towards us and the guards sprang into action. The one closest to me grabbed my forearm in a vice like grip. He started to drag me towards the police building, I wanted to struggle but none of my limbs were cooperating with what my brain was telling them to do. The others didn't bother putting up a fight either; now noticing that the sniper on the roof had hoisted his rifle to eye level.

John stared the leader down as we were ushered against our will into the building. The leader just smiled politely as we passed. He shot me a wink as I walked by and I just stared. Have I mentioned how screwed we were?