Nate DuFort

Cars and homes looked immaculate, as if someone was maintaining them regularly when their neighbors' houses had collapsed from rot.

Other homes, even ones that had caved-in roofs, were lit up with shadows cast on the windows moving around inside.

We stopped when a man walked out and checked the mail in a bloody bathrobe before walking into his burnt-out house, leaving footprints of soot on the sidewalk.

This man was one of the left behind.

There were lots of names for these people.

Revenants, townies, and zombies.

Neither way.

Scientists captured and studied them, but I was never part of those experiments.

I only heard whispers of what they found, and all of it made me want to never go near them.

We turned off onto a side road and drove through the woods to a solid metal gate.

I put in the passcode to enter, hoping it still worked.

Most electronics don't work inside this sector, but since they built this place after the veil dropped and shielded everything inside, it all should still work.

I waited for a moment after pressing enter, hoping that the gate would open.

I held my breath, and Silent Sam looked at me with his cool stoic glare.

Then I heard the whir of electronics, and the gate screeched open on rusted bearings.

I was relieved, but Sam's face instantly became fearful.

He raised his shotgun and stared down the road.

I realized too late what he was afraid of.

The sound was going to draw in anything in the area.

We rushed inside and I ran over the guard shack, trying to find a way to shut the gate.