PAIN. Pain rushed through their skin as they ran from the undead. They couldn't stop them from coming. More kept showing up everyday. Always more, why did it have to be more. They didn't know how long they had left to live. Not to mention it was winter time now at the town. They had tried to escape in a truck. It had died halfway. They were running out of resources. The store they had been living in, Hometown IGA, was running out of cans. They had lost some friends along the way, but the most worried of them all was Tyler. He hadn't seen his brother in a month. He would sometimes go outside and look up at the stars at night. Of course he couldn't be out there too long or the undead would surely strike, and he out of the team was the smart one. What he did though, was not known by his team. They may have been on guard but half of them would usually leave. Colonel Trevor S. Guy would stay back and handle the plans of what the team would do for the next day. Sean would go out and try to find more food, water, power, and survivors. Yet he had never came back with a survivor. Jonathan would sit upon his, as he called it ,"The Watchtower" and make a map of the town. His watchtower of course was the old water tower. He had at least thirty percent done. They rarely had to fight undead scum. The place was fortified during the night. And the freaks only came out at night. At least the strong ones did. The weak wandered the roads giving a challenge to their team. They would never be alone though. Always in groups. And this was what it was like for the Martin County Militia. Until they faced a new problem.