The four of them stared at the flare as it arched into the sky and then slowly disappeared behind a tall building in the cityscape.
“That’s the third one this week,” Joe, the oldest of the bunch and possibly the oldest man in the world said. “Looks to be coming from the hospital.”
“About that area, yeah,” Mac, the youngest of the group said. Unlike Joe, who topped out at fifty, there were plenty of people younger than thirty in their little survivors’ band.
“What are we supposed to do about it?” Barbara, the lone female of the group asked.
“Rescue ‘em?” Joe shrugged.
“It’s on the other side of the town, right by the hospital, and it’s going to be swarming with zombies,” Barbara ticked off the points on her fingers.
The three of them turned to Hank, the only one who hadn’t spoken yet.
“We need to do a supply run,” Hank spoke slowly, his voice naturally low. “We’ll load up, head in, and if we get that far we see about rescue.”
“It’s suicide,” Barbara hissed.
“We’re running out of food and water,” Hank didn’t raise his voice. “The hospital should have plenty of medicine and supplies.”
“But the zombies-“
“Will have moved on by now,” the low rumble cut her off. “If it gets hot we pull out. Simple as that.”
“Fine,” she crossed her arms. “But you get to pitch the idea to Tom.”
“I knew you were going to say that,” Hank sighed.