Andy froze in terror as Brian turned, trying to get his sword up to defend himself. He tripped over his feet, landing hard as one of the orcs grabbed for him. His weapon flew out of his grasp, off to the side and out of reach.

Swallowing hard, Rachael ducked under Brett’s arm and charged forward, her mouth open to warn the rest of the group. Before she could get the words out, however, another warrior already had her heavy wooden sword out, running full speed to strike quickly—Maria, a shy, quiet teen who’d joined their group recently. Before Rachael could react, the girl slammed her sword into the orc’s head—once, twice, three times in quick succession.

It dropped to the ground, unmoving. Maria stood over it, making sure it didn’t rise again, before reaching out a hand to help Brian back to his feet. Andy, in the meantime, snapped out of his shock and attacked the other orcs.

The rest of the group sprang into action without an order. Rachael watched proudly as they moved together as a unit to clear out the last standing dead. Some held back, but as the last of the orcs fell, the chatter and excitement of success filled the air.

Smiling, Brett joined Rachael, standing at her side. He mussed her hair lightly.

“Welcome to your army.”

— 2 —

The morning sun glowed across the grounds as Rachael helped weed one of their gardens. She smiled, listening to the sound of children playing in the parking lot; drawing on the asphalt with chalk and playing with toys. This was the world she wanted, a taste of normality in the chaos.

Mark, another recent arrival to their community, jogged in between the beds of plants, stammering out-of-breath apologies for being late to his duties. Cute in a thin, intense way, with a shock of brown hair that hadn’t seen scissors in months. Rachael smiled, handing him a small shovel. “Pull up some dirt,” she said, gesturing to the rows of damp, dark ground.

The work was hard, but getting lost in thought made the hours pass. Rachael found herself tuning out most of the sounds around her as she dug her fingers through the dirt.

When the sound of children shrieking broke through her reverie, she thought it was just a playground scuffle. Then the shrieks turned into screams of pure terror, pulling her out of her thoughts, jarring her back to attention. Rachael grabbed her sword instinctively, tossing the scabbard to one side as she bolted toward the commotion. The screams grew louder.

“The fence!” someone shouted. “There’s a hole! The fence is broken!”

Dread filled Rachael’s chest as she rounded the corner. Orcs filled half the lot, dozens of them, shambling with rotted hands outstretched and grasping at the panicked children fleeing in every direction.

No one but Rachael had a weapon. She snapped into action, charging the closest orcs, slicing and kicking and stabbing. She scooped up children on the run, handing them off to anyone she could as she charged toward the horde of walking death.