They were coming towards him. They weren't the ones who were infected. They moved from shelter to shelter, aiming their guns just long enough to make sure the street was clear. But that wasn't the case. It was a hive of these things just waiting to be awakened. Here the living came to die. Who was it? Old Wilde putting on a show? The man laughed. He was the master here and he commanded these people to LIVE. More laughter. He removed the bolt from his rifle. Then he walked to his hiding place, picked up the flare gun and fired. Back to his rifle. It was a beautiful thing, a Macmillan TAC-338 sniper rifle that he had taken out of a Walker with a Trident on his arm. He saw the leader of the humans, confused. The leader had stopped in the middle of the road and was shouting. This idiot was yelling at his group. The infected jumped out of their hiding places and tore the man apart, literally bleeding limbs. A man formerly named Jamie watched in fascination. He could have helped, he should have, but he didn't. He blinked and saw his family there. That was all he needed to start firing bullets at the dead. Tears streamed down his face as he pulled, stunned as his family died again. His daughter, his wife, God even his father. They were all there and he was there. That night he went to bed to the sound of dogs fighting over the trash in his