Surfside Beach, South Carolina ----

 The waves roll gently onto the shore as the sky starts to dim. The flickering of gas lanterns lights up what used to be rows of rental houses. Children run inside at the behest of their mothers. This is an average day in the refugee camp. 

 A truck rolls around the network of streets in the small community, delivering ammo rations as it goes. Men head for either the old URM bar, or to their stations for nightly patrol. 

 Willis Fruehstueck, who had not been stationed here since the old URM order, was steadily approaching the camp in his old, beat up truck. He had been here twice in the past week. Bringing with him the warnings of travelers on his CB. He's seen the zombies. He knows what's coming. 

 Pulling up on the camp, Willis sees an old friend in a tattered URM uniform. 

"Here again to scare the shit out of the community, Willis?"

"No sir. This is the last night I'm going to be back through here, so I just wanted to let y'all know that they're still on the move, and they'll be here in three days. Y'all should really consider moving up the coastline a ways."

*Willis sighs*

"But, seeing as y'all are keen on staying here..."

*Willis gets out of the truck, and opens a crate that's on the truck bed.*

"I, 'found', this here ammo at a looter base last night. There are well over 1,000 rounds here, and some ammunition that I know is getting hard to come by is interspersed with yer everyday shells. I even got a grenade launcher, with a mount for it."

*Willis spins to speak with the man*

"And I'd like for the community to have it. Save for a couple hundred rounds for my old 30-06, of course."

 After Willis and the man put the equipment into a nearby storage locker, the man convinces Willis to have a drink before he leaves.

"This place hasn't changed much I see."
Willis says with a smile.

 The bar maid walks by, notices Willis, and turns.

"Sakes alive! If it isn't mister Breakfast 'imself!"

 Her name was Jane O'Hanna. She was a childhood friend of Willis', and the only person he came to talk to when his wife and child were slain. Her parents came to America from Ireland, and her older brother died in Willis' arms while in service to the URM.

"And how er you this evening? I haven't seen you around these parts in a while. Heard o' ya stopping by now 'n again, but you didn't think to come say hello to yer old friend Janey?"

"Jane. It's been ages."

*Willis pauses for a few seconds, and his face takes on a more serious expression.*

"Listen Jane, I want you to come with me. I got a radio transmission the other night. The zombies Jane, they're getting closer. Surfside ain't gonna make it. I've seen what these things can do. They have no limits to the strain their muscles can exert. They're strong, and they don't go down easy. Now, I've got an old Ford Ranger outside..."

*Jane interrupts him*

"That Ford Ranger!?"

*She points outside the window to Willis' truck speeding away.*

"SHIT!"
Willis shouts, as he runs out the door to try to catch his truck.

 Jane turned to Willis with a still shocked expression on her face.

"Now what are you going to do?"

 Willis stands speechless for a few seconds.

"I'm gonna get the hell outta here."

*Willis loads the 9mm at his side*

"We've got 3 days to find a mode of transportation, walking the main roads at night would be too dangerous. We've got to hunt for a vehicle by day, and keep moving along the shore at night. Are you coming with me?"

*Jane nods*