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opportunity.
    Something was in the back of his mind since the beginning, but he couldn’t quite put his finger on it until they got back to the truck yard—which was by no means secure enough with its falling down chain link and wire fence. All the Z’s had to do was find the openings on the backside and they were doomed. There was only one place in Benton where the fence was secure enough to provide safety for his group, which was now hovering around thirty club-swingers. He called them that because that is what most of them had: clubs. Clubs, bats, makeshift spears, shovels, and large knives. Axe and splitting maul handles were also put to good use. Solomon had Shaaka, of course, and his son used the over/under Benelli he had sawed off back in Lester’s shop.
    There was one place secure enough, and it was off the beaten path—so far off the path that he had just discovered it himself the other day.

 
    Chapter Three
    Allegiance
     
     
    Krupp hung his head in wonder at what had just happened. Why did I … did I just …? For the second time that day, Krupp wondered who he had become. He wasn’t a murderer, yet he had just gunned down a young woman in cold blood. But why? Was it simply because I didn’t want to explain my actions? Who would I explain them to?
    He shook it off and tried to focus on driving the boat, but the look of terror on her face when she saw the murder in his eyes haunted him. It was like she knew what he was going to do before he did. That in itself creeped him out.
    They scanned the shoreline, surprised by how little movement there was. There were a few lights still on, including streetlights and a small fire here and there, but otherwise it was calm. The sky was lightening for the dawn of a new day—the dawning of the apocalypse. This was the first day where everyone wasn't waking up to the same job, the same life, the same obstacles, and they all knew it was shit.
    Krupp took it for granted that the mayor’s boat slip in front of his mansion would be empty, and it was the safest landing place he could think of where he could privately stash his rig. The mansion was dark and the lawn zombie-free as the three of them made their way to shore. He took the time to secure the boat and stash the flat bottom they had started out in.
    The mayor’s home was in a newer development on San Carlos Point. He figured the population would be limited—not like the masses that he had seen earlier—but he was surprised to see how clear the area was. There were some dead bodies and some reanimated which were too crippled to move or be a threat, however, there wasn’t one mobile Z anywhere for the first several blocks.
    He took them north toward the highway where San Carlos’ main street soon turned into a path that was nothing more than a deer path. Krupp knew these woods and had busted many parties made up of under-aged drinkers and dopers. The trail followed behind another housing development before coming out on the interstate without going near any houses or other buildings.
    A noise halfway through the woods distracted the group. Krupp knew the sound of meat on meat, the cop still trapped inside of him wouldn’t let him walk away. He crept toward the sound and heard talking. Unpleasant, lecherous … Krupp knew what was going on and he also knew that he was going to stop it.
    Having heard rustling off to the sides of the trail, which he assumed was some lost undead trapped in the forest, he hung his M4 over his shoulder and gripped his Colt 40 semi-automatic in one hand and his nightstick in the other. He didn’t want to draw anything in with his gun, so he holstered it and pulled his Gerber before continuing on.
    He came upon a scene right out of a horror novel. A father and husband forced to watch as … Krupp didn’t need to see more. All little girls reminded him of his own daughter. Many special moments were spent watching and helping her to grow. If he had done anything right, it was