Silence prevailed over the convoy. No-one spoke. Everyone was sat huddled in one corner or another, keeping to themselves. Occasionally the alarm would be sounded as the trucks passed a group of shamblers, but shots were never fired. The survivors simply watched with a mournful disinterest as the surprised infected lurched one way or another. They had seen too much bloodshed for one day. Even Silva seemed subdued.
They drove for several hours, and the light of mid-afternoon soon became the fading brilliance of sunset. It was as the great disc's lowest tip began to fall below the horizon that Ryn saw what he was looking for.
"Go left!" he cried suddenly. Surprised, Darkman swerved violently, almost tipping the truck. As he saw the others following suit behind them, he turned to Ryn.
"What the hell was that about?!"
"Well...this is the way you have to go."
"Right. Gimme some warning next time, yeah?"
The group returned to their stony silence, hearing only the reverberating hum of the engines. Kelvin was evidently uncomfortable in the prickly atmosphere built by combat, lack of sleep and lack of direction, and tried to break the silence several times. But each time he was met only with cold faces and blank expressions. At least, that was until he vocalised something that they had all been thinking for several minutes.
"So, er....there are quite a lot of infected round here."
Darkman glanced across. "Yes."
Kelvin was so surprised by actually getting a response that he found himself spewing forth a torrent of words, just to fill the silence.
"Yeah! I mean, I know there lots of them normally, haha, but they're generally quite spread out round here in the countryside aren't they? But there seems to be a whole lotta groups of 'em, just wondering about. And they're all going the same was as us as well. Weird, huh?"
The rest of the cabin looked at him, and, in a single moment of crushing realization, knew just where the undead were going. The exact same place they were. It wasn't that there was any real evidence to suggest it. They just knew. Having been around for this long, they recognised a coincidence when they saw one, and this was most definitely not a coincidence.
It was Titus who finally said it.
* * *
Ten minutes later, they knew they had been right. With guns blazing out the windows, the group cut a bloody swathe through the loose ranks of the undead, towards a collection of large, low buildings, perhaps a mile distant.
Darkman withdrew to reload. "Well, at least we know they're still alive in there," he declared.
Titus yelled his assent from outside. "Damn right! Why else would this many motherfuckers gather in one place at one time?"
Though his grim, blood-spattered face did not show it, the light of hope shone in Ryn's eyes. It had been a long time since he had seen his friend...he'd better be alive...
"Hey!" he cried out, "I think they've seen us!"
And sure enough, spotted they had been. Jimmy Dean stood proud on the roof of the warehouse, observing the convoy's progress. He looked down at the masses of undead hammering at the barricade below him.
"We're gonna have to let the barricade down to get them in, y'know." said a voice beside him.
"I know. D'you think we can stem the tide for long enough to get it down and back up again?"
The man beside him stepped up to the lip of the roof and he too glanced down.
"It's gonna be a big job."
Jimmy looked at him. "That a yes then?"
Edited by Fire Ze Missiles!, 06 April 2008 - 11:04 AM.