The first real threat to the township came last night.
Down the first couple of streets that lead to the main gate, they have thermal cameras set up to watch for movement in the night, and during the day they can tell infected from Living just by the heat given off by the dead from the continual fever.
During the night there are barricades which are moved around so that any undead get funnelled away from the main gate and towards another fenced off section where they can be easily picked off in the morning.
Last night an SUV came barrelling into the town and towards the movable barriers. Basically a series of planks nailed to form an X with poles laid across and coils of barbed wire wrapped around, they’re good enough to deter both the dead and the Living from attempting to cross them, but an SUV barrelling in at 50 miles an hour barely slows when it hits one of those.
I hear all this as I’m doing a final walk around in the fresh air before grabbing Adam and retiring to our room on the fourth floor of one of the buildings for the night.
So this car thunders in and tears up the barricades and screeches to a halt when they reach the front Iron gates. Especially when half a dozen armed guys in full riot gear swam out like angry termites.
Driving the car is a terrified woman who looks like she had the Hounds of Hades on her tail. In the passenger seat, slumped to one side and looking the worse for wear is who I assume is her teenage son.
So the camp guards race out and surround the car. A couple take up positions further down the road where the car has wrecked the barricades to see if any slovs have followed her in. She jumps out of the car screaming for somebody to help her son.
Turns out the father had been grabbing some supplies in a shop in a nearby town while the kid kept watch and she kept the motor running. The father was ambushed inside the shop which he didn’t realise had the back door open. The kid ran in to rescue him, only to find his father’s throat had already been torn out and was, at that very moment, dribbling down the chin of some ex-school run mum. The kid backtracks back to the car only to be set upon and bitten before he gets away and into the SUV. The mother, beside herself, knowing she is going to be on her own in a few hours time with her zombie kid sitting next to her if she doesn’t get some help then drives hell for leather in a random direction and stumbles across this tranquil community just settling down to bedy byes time.
So the sergeant comes storming out of his ground floor office-cum-home and demands to know what all the hullabaloo is (yes, he actually used the word hullabaloo) and gives her the ultimatum we all get when we first come here: If you’re bitten, or somebody with you is bitten, you have the choice of leaving with them and taking your chances elsewhere, allowing the bitten person the dignity of shooting themselves or choosing somebody to shoot them if they’re unable. If none of the aforementioned are chosen in time, the decision will be made for you.
With that she bursts into tears, looks at her son and climbs back into the urban tractor and turns around. She drove off dragging a string of barbed wire and half a barricade with her, never to be seen again.
Me, I turned to Adam who had been watching, completely unfazed by it all, and we trundled off to our room where I tucked him in and asked how his day had been.