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You make it back to the front of your house, and Brody, Madison, and Woody have been joined by Kelly and Parker who all now pack up multiple vehicles, including a Volkswagen minibus. It has rounded edges and numerous windows all blocked from the inside by thick blankets except for the windshield and two front side windows.

The bandit jeep rolls back around the corner and speeds to a stop at the minibus. Jaime hops out and walks up to you. With him is a familiar stranger. He looks better than he did before, and though he still wears the tan-and-white camouflage of the National Guard, he's alert with a bounce to his step. His skin isn't waxy but shows a healthier hue, and he carries an M4 carbine assault rifle. As he strides closer, you see he's missing his nametag that once read PFC Lopez.

"How ya doing?" he says in a low, gravelly voice. "This is a popular spot. Looks like a block party's forming."

Jaime glances from the soldier back to you. "He said he knows you. He helped take out some of the infected, a lot actually. Look we got like five more minutes before a gazillion infected march around the corner and tear us all to confetti. I'm checking on everyone so we can go." Jaime heads towards the rest of the group.

"I'm surprised you're okay," you say.

He smirks and raises his eyebrows. "My unit had evil intentions for me, but they forgot I'm too stubborn to die. By the way, we never formally met. I'm Cristian Lopez. Glad I managed to catch up to you." He has brown hair and stands a solid six feet tall.

"My name's Luth .. Good to meet you, Cristian."

"I prefer being called Lopez. Got used to it. Jaime said that's your place on fire. I am real sorry," he says. "About yesterday, I found out my sergeant and the rest of my unit were stealing supplies and preparing to go AWOL. I spoke up, was going to tell our CO, and she had the others attack me. I got away and passed out at your house. I appreciate you taking care of one of them. Made it easier on me. Anyway, after they got me again, my energy returned, and I dealt with them. Once we're at a safer place, I can tell you the details if you want to hear."

"So you're going with us?"

"Yeah, Jaime said I can go. Hope that's okay."

A large crack resounds through the street and a cloud of dust flies out from your house as the roof collapses. Flames now shoot from the second floor window. Grit and debris fall to the pavement. You watch as the walls turn black and flake off as cinder, and the area of brick darken and meld. You'll never live here again, and the apocalypse is to blame. You made it a safe haven, but in the end, all of your efforts went up in flames.

From around the corner of the road comes the first of the infected racing ahead of the pack at the roaring flames. Once they draw close to your house, their attention will turn to the living—you and your companions. You have no choice but to leave, and as you observe the flurry of movement outside your home, you know everyone here shares that same thought. You may come from different walks of life, have competing philosophies, or even be enemies. For now, all of you are in the path of a zombie horde, and all will be treated the same.

You rush beside your van and take one last look at your burning home. Somehow you knew it would end this way. It's poetic that a place you had as a refuge will be home to no one ever again. The last two days have been a final exam and Nightfall for the staging ground. It's time to move on and seek a new place to call your own.