Despite having grown up in this world, dealing with the undead always made Liam Mitchell uneasy. It was a totally rational phobia, but in Liam's case it was closer to the same sort of fear that some experience upon seeing a cockroach. Instead of being an actual fear, it was more of a potent discomfort. Either way, the semantics mattered not at all. Zombies were coming, Liam hated zombies, and that's that.
As the other ten members of the ground team worked furiously to load the wheelbarrows of wire into the cargo container, Liam, clutching his FN SCAR-L assault rifle, stood guard. He had been keeping the same rifle for many years and kept it in pristine condition. Over the years, he had upgraded it with various attachments including an ACOG scope, an extended barrel, a forward grip, and a laser sight. His father was the one responsible for teaching him about guns, but Liam frankly cared very little for firearms. He preferred working with tools, computers, and other machines. The mechanics of the weaponry appealed to him, but not their usage. With that in mind, the Holdworth's quartermaster and Liam became fast friends.
“Come on people, let's move!” Liam ordered, trying to hide his nervousness. Their position was rather precarious. On three sides, they were surrounded by hills both natural and artificial. This limited their range of vision. The fourth side was the ocean and Paul, the smaller, less reliable shore-to-ship cargo hauler. It could carry sixteen crates at any given time and fifteen were loaded onboard. There was only to push the sixteenth aboard and then they could leave.
Over the hill came one of the undead, Liam took its head in his sights and fired. “He won't be alone!” He tapped his radio, “Emma, get your fat ass down here!”
Suddenly, he heard machine gun fire and several explosions, “Patience is a virtue, squiggles!”
“Squiggles? Is that best you've got?” Two more came over the ridge and two more died.
“Shove it!” Emma growled. Liam could hear gunfire both over the radio and at the distance.
“Do I need to come down there and rescue you?”
“No, you don't; I've got this!” Emma cried. “Shut up the container now, load it, and get Paul running! Start leaving without me; I'll catch up!”
“Are you insane?” And before she could answer, Liam stopped himself, “Don't answer that.”
“Just do it.”
“Have it your way, but I'm not shedding any tears when you get eaten.”
“Good, you look like a demon yeti spawn when you cry!”
“Yeah, whatever- we're hauling out!” Liam turned back to his men, “Close up the container and let's get out of here!”
“What about Emma?” One of them, a black man named Jeremy asked. “Tell me we're finally leaving her.”
“She'll be here!” Liam replied as he took aim at another small group of the monsters. He put three rounds into each of them just to make sure. Since they were coming in greater numbers, he did not take the time to guarantee headshots. “Just get that container on Paul!”
“Yeah, we're on it,” Jeremy replied as he slammed the doors shut and secured the locks. “Alright, people, push!”
As they did, Liam took pot shots at the scattered zombies approaching. Their numbers grew and grew. He could only imagine what Emma must be going through....