The woods are silent, a whisper of wind running amongst the bare branches. The growls of the undead gurgle through the dead wood like a bubbling stream.

The Mossberg 590A1 Retrograde shotgun is slung over his shoulder comfortably as the midnight soldier makes his way east, where he believes civilization rests amongst a nest of Birch trees and deer moss.

A growl to his left let’s him know a young zombie, maybe a day into the game of the undead is near. In one swift motion, he locks the shotgun into place and fires once, aiming for the throat as he was taught.

Upon impact, the zombie’s neck explodes, dribbling blood and grey muscle onto the damp ground as the head is detached from the neck, killing the already dead creature.

Scavengers are all that’s left, it’s rarely a prey and predator situation in these parts. They say out west there is a small village cut to the teeth with security.

His plan is to make a square shaped route, avoiding much of the drylands as he possibly can, since those parts reek of the dead and midnight strolls there are nearly impossible with the herds of the undead.

The distant POPPOPPOP of gunfire from a semiautomatic handgun lets Ash know he’s close to the village, where he will be protected inside their walls of stone and vine.

A stumbling zombie charges him from behind. Ash sidesteps and does a shimmy as he pulls the gun to his shoulder and squeezes the trigger, not bothering to look through the scope of the long gun. The zombie falls back, wounded in the leg and scared.

Ash continues east as the creature flees, dragging his leg with him into the brush. Bullets cannot be wasted on such a low-life creature.

“Brotha,” a dark man exits the building, as he nears, a pistol tucked in his waistband as he picks his way through the weeds.

“Jaydee,” Ash says, smiling as he claps Jaydee on the back, shouldering his own gun. “My man, how are you?”

“Worse with these goddamned zombies roaming about. Who would’ve thought we’d live an episode of The Walking Dead?”

“I feel ya, man. I was hoping to grab a few nights of sleep and head on to the next base,” Ash replies, pointing to his right.

“That’s… say, fifteen miles out. Way too long for them skinny ass legs,” Jaydee laughs at his own joke.

Ash gives him a wolfish grin, his dark eyes saying the words he won’t have to say. Ash spent five years in the military, learned to shoot a gun at long range, top sniper in his group. After military, he got released and fell into trouble. He done another four years in jail, but was cut short by a year, due to the the apocalypse.

“Okay, man. Whatever you say. Let’s get you to a room, set you up as a security guard, they give free food to those. Free bullets and guns,” Jaydee says.

“Ah, I see, boy. That was you firing that automatic up top,” Ash points to the ridge where several scopes have over the eaves, the glow catching and reflecting the moonlight.

“Naw man. I be with that pop, pop. Not the semiautomatic. That was Lewis you heard, brotha.”

Ash follows Jaydee into the village where he’s reunited with a bunch of his old jailbirds and friends. From there, he continues out, helping people in need and executing the creatures that crawl in the night.