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Rated: E · Chapter · Horror/Scary · #1975895
Our stop at Colonial Williamsburg while going north during a zombie apocalypse.
Some people would say I was weak, and given my state of mind before Williamsburg, I wouldn’t argue with them. As a matter of fact, I’m surprised Adrian never said it, even hinted at it. Then again, most of us were not ourselves after the outbreak; most of us hadn't any idea what happened to our families and friends.

Everything seemed fine. Busch Gardens had been doing their Hall-O-Scream thing when things started and never had the chance to open one week when things got worse. By now, snow had fallen over most of this area at one point or another. Colonial Williamsburg, Jamestown, and Yorktown would have returned to the ghost towns they had once been, for the most part. The other towns up this way weren’t nearly as populated as Hampton Roads further south which gave us an option of staying up there.

We didn’t hear much when they cleared the buildings. Christine had a silencer on his gun and the others had chosen quieter weapons remembering from literature and the telly that zombies were always attracted by loud noises. But we could tell that there were a few around. Dixie, our family mutt, and Squeaks, my cat, were growling quietly. Forget what they tell you about old dogs and new tricks; the right dog, if smart enough, can still learn how to do something or not do something even when she's old. Dixie proved that.

I don't remember any of the conversations that went on that day. Actually, I don't really remember much at all of what happened. I remember the guys came back after their sweep and talked to the others when Alex, the quietest of all, yelled out "Where is Michael?" This caused all of us to stare at him, even those who hadn’t ever worked with the Filipino ninja.

I looked to the back seat. Michael and most of his train weren't where we – I – had left him. I don't know when Lexi had given up on me and walked away, but it was because of that, because I couldn't pull myself together enough, that he managed to climb up front and run off without me noticing.
I panicked. I think we all did. With Marie still strapped to my back, asleep, I ran off, calling for my three-year-old brother. The others followed suit. I started shouting for him. The others did the same. No point in trying to keep quiet if one had already screwed that up.

I had an arrow already out just in case when I came around what I think may have been the post office. There was Michael, trying to make his train move on the rocks and laughing. I called to him. He thought it was a game. Of course he would. But just as he got up to start running away from me, I heard them.

Why - how, did zombies always moan? I had hoped that that was one thing that stories got wrong. I shuddered at the unearthly wail of the dead coming towards my brother. He sensed the danger and tried to turn and run back to me, but tripped and started crying when his hand hit snow. Again, I panicked and shot two arrows rapidly. I don't know how I hit so accurately; it had been years since I had picked up a bow, and I took forever to aim back then.

I ran to Michael, Marie now awake and crying on my back, not understanding my distress. I picked the boy up just as Christine, Adrian, and Alex came around the corner and ran behind them while they shot the zombies.

I had been so frightened by everything I hadn't thought to protect the ones I had pulled out of our apartment, the two that mattered most. Having children around gave hope and I had forgotten that when I nearly lost Liam. If the two youngest survived this, then maybe the rest of us would, too.
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