A full moon sat above a quiet city. Trash, shattered glass, and abandoned cars were strewn about the town... There was not a soul in sight, and the only sounds in the abandoned town were the howl of the chilly wind, and the growls and moans of zombies and other hostile creatures that roamed the streets...

The Camera then Pans to a Suburban Neighborhood within the City...

The neighborhood was once a vibrant and vivacious district of the city filled with life. The streets were once bustling with activity, with its residents going about their normal days. The sounds of cars, children playing, and people speaking to one another filled the air, and there was a sense of happiness and community among the people who lived there. But as the zombie apocalypse struck, everything changed. Now the town was empty, abandoned by those who once called it home.

The streets were silent, save for the wind and the moans and snarling of the zombies and eldritch abominations who dwelled in the shadows and staggered down the streets. There is no community, no happiness, no life. Only the cold, lonely, and desolate remains of what was once a tight-knit community. Cars were left where they once were, either in decent condition or as wrecks on the road.

Some were parked neatly in their driveways, while others were left in the middle of the street, abandoned by their owners when the apocalypse struck. Even a few military vehicles such as Humvees, Armored Personnel Carriers (APCs), Infantry Fighting Vehicles (IFVs), and even Tanks were left abandoned amongst the civilian vehicles, leaving a clear indicator that, even though a military resistance was organized and dispatched to suppress the invasion of the Zombies and other Creatures that overthrew the city, that it was an unsuccessful attempt.

A majority of these vehicles had their doors opened and windows smashed, clear signs that they were looted by other survivors for things like food or a weapon to protect themselves with.

The Camera Pans to a large, Two-Story House:

One of the houses, a large, Two-Story House, had been heavily fortified by a small group of survivors. Each of the house's windows was boarded up with wooden planks, and its front and back doors (On the Outside) were barricaded with sandbags which were acquired by military defenses that had been overrun, along with rice bags. Although not as heavy as the sandbags, they still were something the people who inhabited this house could use for fortification.

Crudely spray-painted on the garage door of the house in black spray paint were the words "NO GIЯLS, SIMPS, FURRIES, OR CUCKS, ALLØW3D" which possibly signified that one of the members of the people who were seeking refuge in the home was a jokester, or had an aversion to all/most groups listed, or both.

All the windows and outside doors of the house were also barricaded with heavy and sturdy furniture and other objects to ensure no flesh-eating, undead corpses or other ungodly abominations would be able to intrude into the home.

The Camera Pans to the Attic of the Home:

Residing in the attic, was a small group of four survivors, who were probably the last remaining souls in the entire city who were not infected or eaten by any of the ungodly abominations that prowled the streets. The attic was compact and cramped, but the quartet of survivors had managed to organize a small, ragtag base for themselves within the attic.

In one corner of the attic, was a makeshift bathroom. It wasn't a particularly comfortable place, and it was far from what one would consider a proper bathroom, but it served its purpose as a place to relieve themselves when necessary. The setup of this crude bathroom consisted of a bucket with a newspaper for toilet paper, a few plastic bottles, and a large bottle of hand sanitizer, surrounded by cardboard boxes to prevent prying eyes from looking in, along with a tarp covering the top of the boxes. It was essentially an incomplete box fort with a tarp for a roof.

The improvised bathroom was a reflection of the rough living conditions the survivors had to endure, as well as their ingenuity in adapting to their circumstances. The four survivors had an appreciation for the small things that made their lives bearable during the zombie apocalypse. Some would question why they didn't just use the bathrooms on the second or first floor of the house and resorted to this very rudimentary bathroom, but it was quite simple.

They didn't want to be caught on the toilet and stuck in a small, cramped room with no way out if the zombies managed to break into the house, and the attic was the highest point of the home, as the three things that separated them from the zombies were the walls of the attic, the floor, and the pull-down attic ladder, which they doubted the zombies had the mental capacity to pull down.

As mentioned before, the survivors who resided in this attic had set up impromptu living quarters, with a dedicated area to rest, a kitchen, a dining area, a weapons stash, and the aforementioned bathroom. The sleeping quarters were organized in a small corner within the attic, where the survivors have set up individual beds for themselves. Although they weren't the most comfortable or lavish, they made do with what they had.

Each of the four members had a mattress, pillow, and blanket for comfort. The beds are simple and utilitarian, but they gave the four a place to rest and get some much-needed sleep in between their daily activities. Their makeshift kitchen was stationed in another small corner of the attic, with a portable gas stove, a few pots and pans, a minifridge, three propane tanks, and a minor amount of canned goods.

The survivors were limited in what they could carry and store, but they made do with the little resources they had under the stressful conditions of the zombie apocalypse. Their kitchen was cluttered and messy, but it served its purpose as a means to cook the food the survivors managed to acquire during scavenge operations. Positioned in between the sleeping quarters and makeshift kitchen, were the dining quarters.

The dining quarters within the attic were compact and bare-bones, consisting of a folding table with four metal folding chairs. On top of the table were plastic utensils, paper plates, and a few packets of condiments. Despite it being basic, it suited the four perfectly, and they had no complaints. And last but not least, in the center of the attic, was a large pile of guns and ammunition.

The four had been scavenging for supplies, and the pile was a result of their successful looting. It stood as a testament to the survivors' determination and resourcefulness, as well as the ever-present danger of the zombie apocalypse. The guns and ammunition have provided the survivors with a means to defend themselves and their supplies, but the ever-present threat of zombies means that the group was always on alert, ready to fight for their lives if necessary.

Even though these were nowhere near ideal or luxurious living conditions, it was what the four survivors had grown accustomed to, as they felt as if this crude, attic base was their home and place of safety and comfort. Lying down below the window of the attic that faced the front of the home, was a tall ladder. This ladder played a vital role in operations where the group would leave their base and forage for supplies.

One of the Survivors was a tall, muscular, African-American man in his Early/Mid-20s wearing a black tank top and jeans, who was breathing heavily as he was performing push-ups on the ground.

Another member of the group was an Asian male in his Early/Mid-20s who stood in the ragtag kitchen, pouring some cans of chicken noodle soup into a large pot that was positioned on top of the portable stove. The Asian man who stood as the group's cook wore a Green, WWI-Era "Brodie" Helmet, and a Vietnam War-Era "Jungle Fatigues" army uniform complete with military dog tags, and black, combat boots.

This man also had long, black hair that extended past his shoulders and sported a scar across his right eye, accompanied by three scars on his right cheek. The man's helmet was rather "Well-Decorated" as chalked on the helmet in white were the words "Tory's Royal Lancer", and on another part of his helmet, written in black permanent marker was "Object 645". Strapped to the front of the helmet was a Black, Ace of Spades card, with a white skull on the black spade.

The third member of the group was a Caucasian man in his Early/Mid-20s with Blonde hair, who wore a white tank top, blue jeans, and red Nikes. He sat on one of the beds in the sleeping quarters of their attic shelter, cleaning an M16A4 Assault Rifle with a rag. This M16 had a 100-Round Drum Magazine, flashlight, bayonet, and a 40mm Grenade Launcher. Lying next to the man's bed were a few empty and crushed cans of Mountain Dew, a metal bucket, and a few boxes of cartridges.

The fourth and final member of the group was another Asian man. He had short, black hair, and wore a green jacket with dark blue sleeves, black pants, and black combat boots. This Asian man wielded a crossbow, as he aimed it at a nearby dartboard. He was in deep concentration, but as he squeezed the trigger, his arrow shot across the room and hit the bullseye on the dartboard. He had a triumphant smile of satisfaction as he saw his accuracy score him a direct hit on the red dot.

The African-American man got done with his push-ups, stood up, and gave the Asian man with the crossbow a smile.

"Hey, nice shot, Chris." He said before reaching out for a high-five.

"Thanks, Sam." The Asian man feebly replied, giving the African-American man a high-five.

"Alright boys, dinner's ready." The Asian man with the helmet said in a deep, gruff, Drill Sergeant-Esque, voice.

This caught the other three men's attention. The man with the Assault Rifle set his rifle neatly on his bed and walked towards the kitchen. Christopher, Samuel, and their friend all grabbed paper bowls and lined up for soup. The man behind the portable stove shot the three a friendly smile, as he picked up a large ladle, and scooped some chicken noodle soup into the first friend's bowl.

"Thanks, man." The man said with a smile as he walked to the table in their mini dining room.

"No problem, Chase." The Asian man with the helmet replied, still smiling.

Samuel was the next to step up for his serving of soup, and after he received his fill, he thanked his friend.

"Thanks, Luke," Samuel said with a grateful smile as he gave the server a fistbump.

Luke exchanged a fistbump with his friend, and Samuel sat down at the table. The final member of the bunch, Christopher, humbly walked up for his soup.

"Ua tsaug, kuv phooj ywg." Christopher said (Translation: "Thank you, my friend.")

Luke nodded and smiled at his friend, and with that, he grabbed himself a paper bowl and scooped himself a serving of chicken noodle soup, and he sat next down with his buddies. Chase stood up, walked to the minifridge, and reached for a can of his favorite soda, Mountain Dew, before returning to sit down.

"So... How are we gonna get out of here?" Christopher, the most humble and feeble of the quartet of survivors asked.

There was an awkward silence as everyone looked at each other, waiting for someone to state an idea/suggestion as to how they would escape the zombie-infested city. They had spent god knows how long in this attic base, and they were paranoid that, although their defenses were holding up, they were afraid that something like a Gargantuar from Plants vs Zombies could just slam a huge hole into their wall.

After a few moments, Luke spoke up.

"Alright boys... It's been 6 months since the Zombie apocalypse started... We've been holding up pretty go-" but before he could finish his statement, he was interrupted.

"6 Months? What the hell are you talking about? It's been like... Not even a week since the apocalypse started." Chase said, raising an eyebrow with a confused expression on his face.

Luke slammed his fist on the table, startling everyone as his fist emitted a loud thump.

"It's felt longer, alright?!" Luke replied in a tone that could be only described as a "Grumpy Old Man".

"Do you have any- Look at the living conditions we're under, we don't have proper beds (Points to the Mattresses they had for beds), we piss and take shits in a bucket inside that crackhead excuse of a bathroom (Points to the stacks of boxes covered by a tarp), and... Fucking, Chase has been-" Luke began to list off, but once again he was cut off by one of his friends.

"Don't we got a pile of guns in the middle of the attic?" Samuel pointed out. Samuel's statement was correct, they, in fact, Did have a large pile of firearms and ammunition on the floor of the attic.

"(While pointing a finger at Samuel) Don't!- Hey, Hey, Hey! You don't worry about that shit, okay? Just... Look at- We haven't showered in god knows how long and it smells like cricket sex and donkey piss in here 24/7, I can't remember the last time I busted a nut, nor can remember the last time I ever saw a woman, and Chase has been fucking picking us dry over there with his little... Store scam he's got going on where he sells us cans of Cherry Pepsi for..." Luke trailed off...

His three friends laughed and snickered when Luke (in his words) described how bad the smell in the attic was, stating how he didn't remember the last time he touched himself, or saw another woman. When Luke began his rambunctious, raunchy, rant, when he came to the part of him mentioning he didn't remember the last time he saw a woman, he pulled out a golden, heart-shaped couple locket and opened it up. On one side of the couple's locket was a picture of himself, smiling, and the other side of the locket, showcased a picture of a woman.

The woman on Luke's love locket was an Anthropomorphic, Red Fox with blue eyes, voluminous blonde hair, and a beautiful smile. Chase couldn't help but poke fun at the fact that Luke was indeed (JUST) Romantic partners with an anthropomorphic animal (And if it went further than that it would've been illegal and Luke probably wouldn't be surviving the zombie apocalypse with his friends).

If you spot this story on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

"You furry," Chase said with a mocking grin. All Luke did was roll his eyes.

During his little ramble, Luke pointed at a (Previously Unmentioned) location within the attic. In one part of the attic, was a computer chair positioned behind a folding table were the following, random objects:

-A 6-Pack of Budweiser

-A Black Beanie

-A Bottle of BB Pellets

-A Bottle of Hydrogen Peroxide

-A Bottle of Rubbing Alcohol

-A Bottle of Motor Oil

-A Bottle of Vodka

-A Brown, Ushanka Flap Hat W/Red Star

-A Can of Cherry Pepsi

-A Can of Soy Milk

-A (Few) Rolls of Toilet Paper

-A First Aid Kit

-A Glass Bottle Dagger

-A Green, WW2-Era, German Stahlhelm Helmet W/Medic Insignia

-A Jar of Peanut Butter

-A Jar of Peanuts

-A Jar of Stuffed Olives

-A Literal Femur Bone

-A Loaf of Bread

-A (Melted) Ice Cream Sandwich on a napkin

-A Nintendo Switch W/Case

-A Pack of Mint-Flavored, Extra Gum

-A Pen and Pencil

-A Potato Masher Grenade

-A Power Drill

-A Power Saw

-A PC Monitor from the 1990s

-A Remote Control 1:10 Scale, Tiger I Tank W/Remote

-A (Single) Egg

-A Small, Red, Desktop Fan

-A Vintage Record Player

-An MG 42 General Purpose Machine Gun

-An Old Computer Keyboard

-Three Frag Grenades

-Various Ammunition Magazines

-Various Boxes of Bullets/Cartridges of varying calibers

-Various (Used) Video Game Console Controllers

"Luke? Why even mention you jerk off? Everyone knows you've got a 4-millimeter defeater." Chase said, snickering with a wide, goofy grin. "I'm just being generous."

Christopher and Samuel snickered and laughed about Chase making fun of Luke's dick size. A face of fury came across Luke's face as his eyes turned into literal fireballs, and he stood up and raised his fists but he calmed down because it wasn't worth fighting over something so small during the zombie apocalypse. On the table, he pointed at, was a sign that read "Lucky O' Mart" written in green marker and decorated with green, four-leaved clovers drawn around the name of the "Store".

In bold, black letters below the store name on the sign were two simple words: "NO REFUNDS". Slapped onto every item in this store was a sticky note with a price on it. $745.00 was the price of the Stahlhelm Helmet, $599.99 for the 1990s PC Monitor, and $8,445.00 was the sticky note price slapped onto the MG 42 Machine Gun. Luke had an unsurprised expression on his face. Christopher and Samuel's eyes were wide and they were utterly slack-jawed at what Chase had done.

Chase was snickering and laughing maniacally ear to ear.

"You stole my RC Tiger Tank! And my helmet!" Christopher exclaimed as he saw his beloved, Remote-Controlled Tiger I Tank on the table.

"Wait... That's MY Beanie!" Samuel boomed as he noticed his black beanie sat on the table of Chase's "Lucky O' Mart".

As Luke glanced at the Lucky O' Mart once more, now it was his turn to widen his eyes and drop his jaw.

"HEY!, WHAT THE FUCK?!" He yelled as he noticed his MG 42 was on sale for almost $8,500...

"It ain't a crime if you don't get caught, I'll sell your possessions back to y'all, though," Chase said with a goofy smile with a bit of a hillbilly accent.

It was pretty obvious Chase was joking. He liked playing tricks on his pals, even if it was the zombie apocalypse. When his friends weren't looking, he had accumulated a few of their belongings, and items found within the house from the previous owners, so he could try and pawn them.

"Aw, hell no!" Samuel said as he got up, stormed to the table, took his beanie (Which had a $6.99 Sticky note price on it), ripped it off and crumpled the sticky note, and put the beanie back on his head.

And with that, Christopher, Luke, and Samuel reclaimed the items Chase had secretly stolen from them. Their chicken noodle soup dinner was quite awkward, were they a little bit mad at Chase? Yes, but, there could've been much worse things Chase could've done in their eyes, such as stealing as many supplies as he could carry and leaving his friends for dead, but Chase wasn't the type of person to abandon his pals.

7:45 PM...

After they had finished their dinner, Chase, Christopher, Luke, and Samuel were either laying down on or sitting on their beds. As Luke sat on his bed, he had bags under his eyes and was drinking from a bottle of Soy Sauce.

"So... Could we go back to talking about an escape plan? We can't stay here forever." Christopher said.

In unison, the four put their index fingers and thumbs on their chins, trying to brainstorm a way they could escape the zombie-infested city.

"Alright, I have an idea, listen up, I have a proposition," Chase said

And with that, Christopher, Luke, and Samuel stayed silent and looked at Chase, waiting for his proposition.

"(Clears Throat) Why don't we figure out a way to drop a giant nuke on those fuckers? It'll take care of them once and for all. It's a bold idea, but hey, desperate times call for desperate measures, am I right? Our plan is... We go to the nuclear power plant that's about 40 Miles to the West, collect as much Uranium as we can, like the shit that caused Chernobyl to spew out more radiation than you're grandmother's microwave, build a nuclear bomb, go to the aviation museum by the airport which is about... 18 Miles away, fire up the B-17 they've got there, strap our nuke to the plane, and drop it on the city like someone dropping a fat deuce into the toilet after a special at Taco Bell." Chase said with a wide, devious grin.

His three friends gave Chase a completely dumbfounded look as if they were staring at a mental patient...

"Is this nigga serious?" Samuel asked, his brow raised.

After a few seconds of awkward silence... Christopher, Luke, and Samuel all erupted into laughter. Samuel was slamming his massive fist on the table while letting out a deep laugh.

Chase's goofy grin remained on his face, not even offended. He was staring off into space, cross-eyed, with the last remaining, intact brain cell in his head bouncing around like the DVD Screensaver.

Then, the laughter stopped.

"No, Chase but seriously, that's a very, very, VERY stupid idea," Christopher said.

"Even the crackhead that lived outside the 7-Eleven had better philosophy than you," Luke remarked.

"Come on, y'all gotta give me credit, I actually paid attention in Chemistry Class for some reason. Naturally occurring Uranium-238 has a half-life of approximately 4.5 Million Years." Chase said

Chase's three buddies looked absolutely stunned. Yes, Chase was one of their best friends, but... His intelligence? Quite low, as he hardly ever paid attention in class, or wasn't even there to begin with.

"That's... That's probably the smartest thing I've ever heard you say in a long time, Chase..." Samuel said

"That's a compliment!" Chase said with a derpy smile on his face.

"But yeah, I ain't a Chemist or a Scientist, In fact, I actually caused Chernobyl - Buuuut, I have enough IQ points to have the basic understanding that if we went anywhere near Uranium without the proper gear and hazmat suits, we'd be dead," Luke commented

"Hold on, What did you say?!" Samuel asked, raising his brow again upon hearing Luke say the word "Chernobyl".

"Nothin'." Luke bluntly replied before looking away

"Hey, guys? We kinda went off-topic... We're practically sitting ducks, can we at least think of a plan?" Christopher said, a little hesitantly.

"Right, right, right..." - Samuel

"Oooh, a Coupon book!" Chase said in amazement

Chris, Luke, and Samuel all looked at Chase, completely dumbfounded. They knew the man was random and was easily distracted. Chase wasn't lying with his statement. He had noticed on a shelf in the attic, was a dusty, old, coupon book. The man opened the book, ready to rip some coupons out of the book for later use when the zombie apocalypse ended, buuut...

His eager smile turned one to of utter disappointment when he noticed most of the coupons were already cut out (and possibly used by the previous owners of the home), and those that were remaining were expired and advertised mundane products such as kitchen appliances, cleaning equipment, tools, and other everyday products that did not interest Chase.

"Goddammit..." Chase muttered.

The trio watched as they saw Chase carry the coupon book in his right hand, and walk towards the window of the attic.

"Chase, what are you doing?" Christopher asked, a bit paranoid Chase was going to do something stupid.

Chase opened the window and yelled "YEET!!!" with all the force he could muster, tossed the coupon book out of the window. The next thing the four men heard was the sound of glass shattering and a car alarm going off. His dumb, goofy grin was immediately wiped off his face and replaced with the universal "Oh shit" expression.

"Oh my god, bruh..." Samuel said, disappointed as he facepalmed.

"Dummkopf!" Christopher insulted Chase. (Translation: "Blockhead!")

"Koj rov qab!" Luke exclaimed, outraged by Chase's display of utter thoughtlessness, recklessness, and stupidity. (Translation: "You retard!")

Everyone briefly went silent and went pale, their eyes widening as they heard the sound of multiple footsteps, snarling, growling, and moaning from outside.

"Goddammit Chase, you lead 'em right to us!" Samuel yelled

"Bro, shut yo ass up before they hear you!" Chase retorted

Samuel got up and approached Chase. Chase didn't have time to react because Samuel, an absolute tank of a man, put him in a chokehold (but not enough to incapacitate him), and put his giant hand over Chase's mouth to keep him quiet. Chase squirmed a bit but immediately gave up because it was pointless to try and escape the grasp of a 6 Foot 4 man who was built like a football player, and it was for his own good to shut his trap, to not attract the attention of the zombies outside.

Fortunately, after about 30 seconds, the car alarm stopped, but the zombies still trudged down the street...

9:00 PM...

After what felt like an eternity... The horde had passed by the house. A few zombies lingered, but it was better than having an entire horde encasing you outside of their base. They four had waited for about an hour, the silence was so thick in the attic that you could cut it with a knife, it was probably the quietest they had ever been in their entire lives... They were sweating buckets, their lips sealed tighter than a Ziploc bag, not even daring to move a muscle.

Luke:(Narrating from his POV) I'm very very thankful the people I'm with during the zombie apocalypse are three of my best friends and not people like randoms in a GTA V Heist lobby, for a multitude of reasons. What other scenario involves you staying quiet for your life? A School lockdown. I was stuck with the loud-ass drama queens, the dumbasses who screwed around thinking they were funny, and one fat motherfucker who tried calling his Grandma during the lockdown, and if there was an active shooter on the campus, we'd probably be the first ones to go and I probably wouldn't even be here.

During that whole time, Samuel stood behind Chase, with the latter still in a headlock with Sam's huge hand covering his mouth so Chase didn't say anything stupid, make any dumb noises or scream. The four all exchanged sighs of relief, and Samuel let go of Chase.

"Chase, I love you man, no homo, but ya gotta stop being a dumbass, you got it, man?"

Samuel said sternly.

"Yeah, I got you, man... Just, don't put me in another chokehold..." Chase replied, his voice weary and tired.

"Hey, me and Luke came up with a plan about 9 seconds ago," Christopher said in a hushed tone, signaling Chase and Samuel to come back to sit down at their little dinner table to hear.

"Ay Chris, what are y'all thinkin'?" Samuel asked in a quiet tone as he and Chase sat down in their respective seats.

"What we're going to do is... We're going to pack up everything we can carry, food, guns, and a few personal/sentimental things of ours, get some rest, and when midnight comes, we book it." Christopher announced in a bold, militaristic voice.

"That sounds good, but could we have a little fun while we're at it?" Chase asked.

"Oh no..." Christopher muttered under his breath. He, Luke, and Samuel all stared at Chase, nervous and hesitant about what random statement would fly out of his mouth.

"How about we make some Molotov cocktails? The people here have a fully-stocked wine cabinet downstairs. When we leave, let's kick the tires, light the fires, and stalk a few zombies like Michael Myers, create some trip wires-" Chase began to rhyme until being cut off.

"Where are you going with this?" Samuel asked, his eyebrow raised. "You've got way too much confidence, bud."

Chase scoffed before speaking again. "Let's just make some Molotov cocktails, light 'em up and throw them at a few zombies, it'll be like... Our calling card, like the Wet Bandits from Home Alone." Chase replied

"Dude we never had any type of calling card-" Christopher pointed out before getting interrupted

"But we could. Let's all have a vote. Raise your hand if you wanna make some Molotov cocktails, and throw 'em at some zombies when we leave." Chase said confidently and proudly as he raised his hand.

No one else raised their hands. They admit, Chase's idea did sound cool, throwing lit Molotov at zombies while making their getaway into the night, and Christopher, Luke, and Samuel all loved to goof off, but it was clear that ever since the zombie apocalypse broke out, their "Goofy Meters" took a downward plunge, and were compensated with survival instincts and seriousness.

The same couldn't be said for Chase. They had all known each other since the 1st Grade, and it was clear Chase had never really grown out of his loud, reckless, and irrational self. Even in a Zombie Apocalypse, he was still trying to find "fun" ways to entertain himself while he and his best friends he had known for years were toughing it out in their makeshift attic shelter.

Christopher, Luke, and Samuel looked at each other, and all nodded before looking at Chase. They appeared to be agreeing on something as if they were foreign ambassadors coming to an agreement.

"We have approached the conclusion that you will NOT have our approval on hurling incendiary projectiles at the trudging, unholy corpses referred to as 'Zombies'," Luke said in a British accent. He spoke as if he was some high member of a council or government.

Chase raised an eyebrow at the response, especially that Luke spoke in the way that he did. His perplexed expression soon turned to one of boredom and disappointment.

"Come on guys, you gotta let me have my fun-" but before he could finish his sentence, Luke responded, still in his British accent.

"But... We have approved of your choice of pillaging the wine cabinet formerly owned by the previous inhabitants of this residence."

"Oh well, good 'nuff for me," Chase replied. "But why did you go all British on me? That was kinda weird."

"I don't know, man, I just... I just wanted to." Luke said in his normal voice, kind of awkwardly.

The next thing the four began to do was pack up as much food, guns, ammunition, and a few sentimental items as they could, putting them into their respective backpacks/duffel bags. After he was done, Chase opened the attic's pull-down ladder, walked down the ladder, and down onto the first floor of the home. He walked into the kitchen, made his way to the wine cabinet, and opened it.

"Who's gonna stop me?" He asked himself rhetorically with a mischievous smile. He looked at the contents of the wine cabinet, which was fully stocked with premium brand wines, spirits, vodka, and rum. He intended to take every single alcoholic beverage in the wine cabinet, but his smile soon faded when he came to the realization that...

There was no way he would be able to carry all of these glass bottles, as it would weigh him down, and it was near impossible for one of them not to break if Chase had to flee from zombies as they would clink and clank around in his duffel bag.

"Dammit..." He said to himself. "Fuck it, I'm taking what I can," he said, determined. Chase unzipped his black duffel bag, revealing some snacks, A Magic 8-Ball, a grenade, a pound bag of marijuana, some boxes of cartridges, and an M1911A1 Semi-Automatic Pistol. Chase placed a bottle of wine, a spirit, a vodka bottle, and a bottle of rum into his duffel bag and zipped it back up.

His bag was a little bit heavier, but Chase had a fair amount of muscle on him, and he had always been a rather rough and tough individual for most of his life, so he shrugged it off and made his way back to the attic to rejoin his comrades, pulling back the attic drop ladder back up as he climbed into the attic. Christopher and Samuel lay in their beds, asleep, their bags packed beside their mattresses.

As he slept, Chris welded his MP 40 Submachine Gun, and lying next to Samuel's bag was an AKM Assault Rifle, equipped with a 75-Round Drum Magazine, flashlight, bayonet, and a 40mm Grenade Launcher. Luke lay on his bed, but he wasn't asleep. He held his MG 42 Machine Gun.

"Good night Chase, I'll be on the lookout tonight, and I'll wake everyone up when midnight hits," Luke said

"Alright, thanks man, good night," Chase replied

Before Chase went to sleep, he checked his phone to see it was 9:07 PM, and he looked out the window, remembering he had forgotten to close it ever since he had tossed that coupon book out of the window. He walked over to the window, closed and locked it, and went to sleep. Chase began to snore, and he also began to talk in his sleep in an Irish accent.

"So many bargains... (Snores) Much value (Snores) Having it so cheap... (Snores) So easy to source... (Snores)"

Luke couldn't help but snicker a bit and crack a small smile at hearing his buddy ramble nonsense in his sleep. As He lay on his bed with his back leaning against his pillow, which leaned against the wall behind him. He held his machine gun, and was on high alert, making sure nothing got in the attic to hurt himself, or any of his friends. His eyes were peeled and focused like a watchdog, keeping his gaze on the drop-down attic ladder...

Little did the four men know...

Off in the distance, standing on top of a wrecked semi-truck, stood a tall, heavy-set, and ominous, black shadow... And it stared at the window of the attic the four friends were residing in...

(The End of AVCSS S01E1 Part I... To Be Continued...)