They cross a rail yard in the industrial side of the city, ducking through overturned train cars rusted into the earth. Normally merc punks would never travel through zombie territory at night, but the mercs don’t have time to stop for rest. They have to accomplish their mission and get to the helicopter before any of the other contestants. “Which way?” Zippo asks Xiu, in Spanish. Xiu takes her homemade metal sunglasses from her eyes and examines the map. Zippo shines his flashlight, tied to his automatic shotgun, over her shoulder so she can see. “East by northeast for a mile,” Xiu says. “Then east. We should get there early in the day tomorrow if we keep moving. Then we should be able to make it to the helicopter before dark.” Behind them, Vine stands on a fallen train car, keeping a look out. The area seems free of the living dead, but he knows not to let his guard down. Standing still, even in a remote area, is always more dangerous than being on the move. Those things always tend to sneak up on you out of nowhere when you least expect it.
