Escape and loss.

Support comes from unexpected sources and in unexpected ways sometimes—and often events follow unexpected roads, as well.

Alex fought his way from St. Louis to help me escape from the Columbia infestation. There’s tell of a safe zone in Kirksville; forces from their defense came to our aid as well, and arranged for an escort and helicopter ride out of town. Alex and I received word late in the afternoon, and evacuated the room quickly—we grabbed all our remaining ammunition and dressed for a fight.

We dodged one zombie on our way out the door. Quietly, we crossed campus, to the meeting spot behind Brady Commons—we saw two more creeping around the library, and kept an eye on them, but did not engage. A lone survivor—a woman I knew from life before zombies—and a pair of an older and younger boy joined up with us then. We circled the commons, searching for the group, wondering if we were all that was left. There were a few short skirmishes. Finally, we found the group, along with the Truman reinforcements: these were serious players, wearing neon yellow and purple shirts for visibility, packing several guns and bandoliers apiece. They were a welcome sight; I only wish Justin were still around to see it.

The five of us joined a team of other Resistance members—several I had fought with on the first mission. Later, I learned, we ran with survivors of the Massacre.

I don’t know how they survived, after some of the choices those leaders made.

We made it to our first location safely: back to Mark Twain, to sweep for survivors and information about the evacuation point. All the hastily-assembled teams gathered there, and our group volunteered to go on a rescue mission at Lowry Mall. Our small group of five—Alex, Kelsey, Cruz, and his younger ally Josh—nearly joined another squadron, to go directly to the next destination, but I called Alex and Kelsey back at the last minute. I’ll regret that mistake for the rest of my life (which may or may not be much longer).

We were poised to cut directly in front of Jesse Hall, and make it to the Mall from there—but we failed to notice the moaning growing louder and louder until we were on top of them. The zombies were swarming the steps of the hall, and the Fox—Bravo Team’s leader, and the leader of the Mark Twain Massacre survivors—decided we had to make a break for it.

We traveled through a riot gang of twenty, our little band of twelve only stacked two thick throughout. Some of us fell behind. A zombie was coming up behind me, quickly overtaking me, when Alex stepped between him and me. I heard a shot—thought he had escaped—and turned in time to see the gun drop from his hands. Kelsey was held down by a pair of them; I watched them overwhelm her, then turned and fled, a female nipping at my heels, screaming at my team—

“WAIT—I’m still alive!”

My group was too far ahead to help, and I managed to twist around and fire into her chest. I ran until I caught up with them, as well as the remains of Alpha Team. There weren’t many; we had lost several more in the Jesse Hall ambush, and the other teams had fared badly as well. The Kirksville team was nowhere to be found.

No further mention was made of a rescue; I can only assume those survivors were abandoned. Our remaining forces hurried on foot across campus, signal for the helicopter in hand. At least, until the two rugged Alpha men split while we regrouped, and suddenly, it was a race between us and the zombies, to see who would catch up first.

The few undead we saw from this point on were scattered, almost timid. Only a few gave chase. The band of twenty of so—of forty that had met only an hour earlier—made its way to the top of the Virginia Avenue Garage, where Alpha Team’s remnants waited, waving the signal in triumph.

We waited. Truman’s team demolished a small team of zombies lurking at the bottom of the garage on their way up, while we picked off the few that wandered up to the top floor. The only blessing is that Alex and Kelsey weren’t among the bodies I could see.

Is it over? Though now I have a group of allies—Cruz and Josh among them, at least—many of those I stood with have fallen. What can tomorrow bring?