Maybe its fate that we ended up in the chapel. When the dead start getting up, a prison is both the best and worst place to be. I look around at the group; a nurse, two teachers, a cook, and five JCOs (including myself). There's no way we could be the only ones alive on the whole campus, but the "residents" must have taken out some of the remaining staff. I guess that's why we don't carry weapons.
I put the other JCOs to work, barricading the stained glass windows, and risk a quick look out the front door. The dead didn't see us run in here, so for the moment we're safe. From the doorway, I can see the gate house, 100 yards away, and it might as well be 100 miles, for the chances of us getting to it, much less getting through it. I stare at it a little too long, and they notice me. Shit.
I can hear their feet padding as they run at us. Slamming the door, I grab what I can to block it, and let the others know about my fuck up. Communication is key in a prison. And that's all the time we have before they're beating and banging on the door, and I can hear their hands smashing through the windows. We lose a teacher to cowardice and a JCO to bravery, and I wonder if there's any difference. Locked in behind a 15 foot tall barbed wire fence, and hunted by the dead, I can't see the end as anything but the end. And I think I'm okay with it, with losing my life. I look at the cross, and I wonder. Maybe its fate.