Machines and Machinations

The sound of automatic rifle fire burst through the trees and the four survivors dove to the dirt. No bullets splashed near them, so they kept low and crept toward the edge of the forest. Ahead of them was a lone, solid, brick building: The Seabrook Armory, an Army depot and supply cache. And several dozen zombies stumbling towards the structure, tripping over dozens of other re-dead zombies sans heads. More automatic fire rang out, and what sounded like a high caliber sniper rifle. One zombie’s head exploded and a few shook as their bodies were riddled with bullets.

Shortly, silence descended, broken only by the racing heartbeats of the teens.

Vlad shouted, “Do not shoot! Do not shoot! We are not zombies! Please let us into your fortress!”

No answer came. He called out again, this time including the number of their troop. Still, no reply from the fortress.

Undoubtedly-zombie moans came from a little ways off behind them in the woods. This time, all four shouted in unison. No reply came.

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