by Adam Millard
'They wanted to leave without you,' Terry said, helping Shane to his feet. The helicopter banked suddenly, almost sending Shane back out through the open door. 'I made them stick around.'
Jared sat silently, strapped into the helicopter as if his life depended on it. His head was buried deep in his hands as he tried to come to terms with what had happened, and what was going to happen from hereon in.
'Thanks,' Shane said, smiling insignificantly. 'Where did they come from?'
Terry shrugged. 'They were just out on the street. Looking for survivors, I guess. We got shot at, but managed to convince them that we hadn't, you know?' He made a comical gesture, which was a pretty decent impression of one of the creatures. 'I guess He was looking out for us, after all.' Of course, He was the man upstairs.
'I guess so,' Shane said.
He moved towards the door and placed a hand on the edge to, if anything, prevent him from falling out. As he gazed down at the carnage beneath, he realised that the chances of his wife and daughter being alive were slim. He knew that he could ill-afford to break down, yet a tiny tear escaped the corner of his eye and fell out of the helicopter door. Where it would have landed, Shane didn't know, but there were hundreds – thousands – of them down there. Call them what you will; zombies, creatures, things, demons. It didn't matter. What did matter was that they were here, and there were so many of them that the chances of his own survival, and that of the other survivors, was just as slim as his wife's and daughter's.
The breaking dawn held little comfort, but as the sun rose in the sky, painting hues of orange and red across the landscape, it was obvious that the future, any future, was worth fighting for.
And by God, they would fight.
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