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some sleep. Put me on for the two to three watch.” He left me there as I started on cleaning my shotgun.
     

Chapter 12
    I woke up at a noise. I could hear snoring coming from Doc, who lay in his sleeping bag on the opposite side of the bed from me, his feet up by my head. Despite the cold, I only had my bag draped over me, as did Doc. Out in the wild, there might not be any time to unzip yourself from the bag. I quietly slipped it off me, listened intently. There was a scuffling noise out in the hall, where, by my watch, 02:21, Collaton should be on guard. I also heard snoring coming from the hallway. The son of a bitch was asleep.
    I reached out and shook Doc’s foot. He rolled out of bed, pistol at the ready, instantly awake. There was a chemlight burning in the hallway, and I could see Collaton’s feet through the doorway. He was apparently sitting in a chair, snoring away. Doc looked at me, and I pointed to my ear, then pointed down. Noises, downstairs. He nodded, and I went to the doorway, staying low. To my right, Collaton kept snoring. I could hear faint music coming from is directon. Holy crap, the kid had earphones in! On my left, a bulky figure was slowly trying to make its way up the stairs, treading on the outside of the steps to keep them from squeeking.
    As I raised my pistol to take a shot, the door to the next bedroom at the top of the stairs opened, and Hernandez stepped out, unarmed, rubbing sleep from his eyes. He was directly in my line of fire, and stopped when he saw the figure in the shadows at the top of the stairs. I heard the twang of a crossbow, and Hernandez was driven backwards, up against the wall. As he started to slide down, I fired twice into the attackers’ center of mass, the suppressor only letting out a popping sound. He grunted and fell backwards down the stairs, knocking down another person coming up the stairs behind him.
    Collaton woke with a start, and jumped up. “Holy Shit!” he yelled, and fired off a long ragged burst from his M-4 at the figure s tumbling down the stairs. The gunfire was incredibly loud in the enclosed space, and my ears rang. Doc punched him as hard as he could, knocking him down. As he fell, I grabbed his rifle and yanked it from him. Now we were truly screwed. Every single zombie in a mile was going to come running. 
    Downstairs a chorus of yells erupted, and Jones and Ahmed appeared in the doorways of the other bedrooms, guns at the ready, Brit looking out from behind Ahmed. I heard the front door slam, and assumed the raiders had made their departure after finding us too hard to chew on.
    “Doc, check Hernandez. Jones, tape that fuckhead Collaton up. Ahmed, follow me downstairs. Brit, see if you can get up on the roof and see anything.”
    As I passed Hernandez, he ga ve a cough that splattered blood. Doc was right behind me, and I had to ignore Hernandez until we knew the downstairs was clear. Ahmed followed me down the stairs, both of us with the tactical lights on our pistols shining. As we passed the crumpled figure at the bottom of the stairs, I fired once into his head and once into his chest, just in case. We cleared the downstairs, finding nothing except the front door slightly ajar and snow tracked into the front hallway. As Ahmed went to shut it, an arrow slammed into the door, along with a shout that echoed clearly in the crystal clear night air. “Fucccckkkkk youuuuu, you government assholes!”  
    “Ahmed, stay here and keep an eye on things. I’m going to check on Hernandez.” As I went back up, I stopped and examined the corpse on the floor. He was dressed in a heavy, soiled army surplus parka and dirty jeans. He had a cheap 9mm pistol strapped to his leg, and a few extra magazines in his pockets, along with some extra loose rounds. A heavy hunting crossbow lay on the floor next to him, and he still grasped an extra arrow in his dead ha nd. Under his shirt was a police issue Kevlar vest. One of my shots had caught him in the