A few days ago that Jersey guy and his little crew made it back to what is now being called "Haven." He'd watch the whole thing happen from behind the scope of his rifle. They called his post "The Tower" as it was the only piece of standing realty that overlooked the colony: a staircase that survived the fires and chaos, three walls and no way for a ghoul to get in on the bottom floor. He was six stories up, looking down on the world below, with the ghouls, the survivors, the fighters, the scavengers. Dale prefered to stay in The Tower as long as he could. He didn't like interacting with the rest of the crowd, except the one kid with the knives. Dale liked him. But he'd been up there for three days, and it was his end of shift. He didn't want to go, because suspicion ran heavily through him, but he had to - at least for one day. Besides, he was the only one good enough to be considered anything near a sniper.
A rustle brought his attention to his back. He whipped around and the barrel of his .357 was in the face of the knife kid. His name started with an 'M' or something. The kid had a scolding look on his face when he spoke. "Dale, your finger isn't even on the trigger. And if I were so inclined I'd already have buried a knife or two in your back." He finished climbing in and Dale couldn't resist taking the kid down a peg, "Right. With them girly arms of yours, you'd barely even scratch my jacket. Pfft." Knife kid laughed and settled down next to the man he was to replace on the tiny platform. Both lit a cigarette, and Dale holstered his hand cannon. They shared the view for a moment and let the silence settle in. "I don't know, Dale. I'm a little worried." Dale couldn't resist, "Why's that? You're late this month or something?" "Ha! Don't worry. Everyone knows you'll be the father. No. I'm worried about Jersey and the little run-in he says they had."
Dale remembered the tale of survival and how quickly it had spread through Haven. He didn't know why, but he was worried too. "Why are you so worried...Uh...." The kid smiled widely, "You don't remember my name!" Dale fumbled out names starting with 'M' as the kid laughed harder and harder at each attempt. "Just call me 'M.' I'm sure you'll be able to remember that." Dale shrugged and agreed. "So why you so worried, M?" After a moment of thought and a flicked cigarette, he finally answered, "Those things are tenacious. They're bloodthirsty and they never give up. I'm afraid that the little crew left enough of a trail for them to come back to Haven and have themselves a little buffet." Dale thought and decided he had the same idea. "But don't you think they'd be here by now?" M shook his head as he peered out over the city, colored orange and red by the setting sun, "Naw, man. The dead march slowly."
After packing his rifle and the climb down from The Tower, there was only enough time for Dale to eat and sleep. He didn't mind. He hated interacting with all these hopeless morons that spat endless idiocies at him. Yet M's words kept running through his head as sleep took him: "The dead march slowly." Dawn broke and so did his peaceful sleep. With a groan, Dale pushed himself out of bed and put his jacket back on, going to get more supplies to supplement his days in his perch above the crowd. With a full pack and a full bag of ammo, he made the climb up to relieve M, avoiding all the people in Haven as best he could. They didn't even know his name, most only calling him "Sniper." He didn't mind that, either. A few of them had chosen anonymity to being quickly identified, choosing to keep ties severed. It made it easier if someone was eaten or killed out on the streets.
The city streets below were painted the same colors as the dusk when he had left, turning concrete from gray to orange and red. The air had a chill to it and he was thankful to have his jacket on. The stairs went by quickly, the last climb having to be the one to get to the top. M wasn't there, just the rifle and mat he used. Caution crept into Dale as he silently made his way onto the tiny platform, eyeing every shadow and corner carefully. "Gotcha, old man." The voice came from behind him. Dale spun and drew his revolver in the same motion, leveling it against the disembodied voice. There stood M, smiling like the Cheshire cat. "You little shit! I could've blown your damn head off!" M only laughed in response, prompting Dale to holster his gun and slug the kid in the shoulder. M laughed a lot less after that. They went about the ritual of switching out gear and mats, Dale's silenced G3 long scope rifle taking the place of M's silenced M4.
Dale had just deployed the bipod on his rifle when the first scream came. He and M shared a look before peering down at Haven. Chaos had arrived. At the front gates was a wash of green, rotted flesh, pushing through the doors of their small community. A few ghouls had already shoved their way inside, devouring whomever they got their hands on. Without hesitation, Dale went to one knee and brought his rifle up, siting the first zombie and turning its head into a red mist. M's rifle came up and joined the fire fight. They took down as many as they could, but the dead kept coming. Screams and mayhem were muted by the distance between the events and the two atop The Tower. Both men reloaded and kept trying to reduce the numbers, but it was like smashing one ant in the middle of a colony.
Through his scope, Dale saw mouths open and silently scream before they were taken, the muted gunfire of people trying to fight off the dead. He saw the chaos below through a cross hair, the noise never reaching him. He could only feel sorry for those below. Then he whipped his scope back to the front gates and saw the guy from the other hospital supply run, frozen in fear and shock. Then he, too, fell to the dead. Dale did the only thing he could, and put one through his head as the zombies began to rip him apart while he was still alive. The sound of heavy breathing took his eyes away from the death below and to the man sharing his perch. M stood, a deep frown upon his face, his rifle empty. M finally looked at Dale, resignation in his voice, "Haven has fallen." Dale looked back down, the dead now outnumbering the living, then back at the kid. "Yeah. But we ain't dead, yet."
Dale knew it was a long distance to the next colony, but he would have to try. Both packed their empty rifles and descended the stairs, taking a side exit away from Haven. With a final glance, Dale and M began their long trek to the next cloud of civilization.
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