Rust and blood

        Sneaking through the industrial part of town, we see few undead.  The ones we do encounter are dealt with swift and silently.  The three of us stay close, with me in the middle.  My dizziness is for the most part gone, but the throbbing is quite noticeable.  I gulp down a bottle of water I had taken with me as I try to keep up with Brock, who wants this done with as fast as possible.  Upon entering the desolate building, I see the layout is quite similar to the warehouse we currently reside in.  The only source of light here is from a hole in the roof, pale daylight pours in through but it barely lights the tomb like building.  I can smell the rust that had long since taken over the stairs and other metalwork in the building, along with something else.  It smells like blood, like death... "Alright everyone, split up.  Don't stray too far, these shadows could hold all sorts of undead surprises." Brock grabs his bat as he takes the southern corner of the room.  Taking a cue from him, I ready my machete.  As does Eddie with his hammer.  "Ill keep a watch on the door.  You two find what you came for."  Blunt, but Eddie never did look like the type to dick around on a job.  Maybe army, or marine... He has had some kind of training.  Nobody can swing a hammer that big on their own.  Not a particular fan of shadows, I begin to rummage through my bag for the flashlight I had picked up from what seemed like years ago.  Couldn't have been more than a few months, its nearly the end of winter now.  Finding the flashlight, I click it on and train the beam of light to the ground as I search the corner of the warehouse between Brock and Eddie.
        We searched every square inch of the warehouse.  Turning up quite a few building materials.  Far too much to carry back by hand alone.  "Hey, how do you expect us to bring this all back to the warehouse?"  I grunt as I toss another bag of concrete mix in the center of the floor, illuminated by the hole in the ceiling.  All this heavy lifting had brought the dizziness back.  I reach for my back pocket, hoping I left some water in the bottle.  Taking a big chug, I listen to Brock's plan for all the material.  "Well, we carry what we can, we make several trips.  If the undead catch us, we drop what we have and fight."  As I regain my sense of balance, I look around the dimly lit room.  Looking for anything that could be of use, my else fall on...  "Forklift.  Hey, what about the forklift."  I had cut in on Brock's alternate plan, I didn't care.  This plan  was safe, nobody had to carry twenty plus pounds of concrete.  And should the undead decide to show up, we could always just run them over.  "No.  The noise would be a beacon for those things.   We carry the supplies ourselves."  Again with the hiding, I begin to get sick of Brock's willingness to hide like mice for the rest of our lives.  "We cant just hole up forever.  You expect someone to just come along and take care of this mess for you?  Wake up!  Nobody is coming over the hills to rescue you!  And if there was anyone in charge left, they're doing the same thing you are!  Waiting for someone to come in and clean up, so they can go back to what they did before.  Its time to fight back!"  No longer whispering, I begin to shout at Brock, I know I should stop but I cant.  "What about your family?  Do you expect them to hide forever, to never enjoy the world around them again?!"  I'm about to storm out before a shadow blocks my path.  A low moan escapes the mouth of the undead blight in my path.  I ready myself, taking a swinging stance.  Before the thing could stumble in my path, Eddie bring his hammer down on the bastards skull, caving it in with what seemed to be no effort.  Before the corpse could hit the ground, Eddie was back at the door, scanning the horizon for more of the things.  "Look, either way they will find us.  At least with all of the materials there at once, we can start building our defenses. What do you say?"  I stare at Brock, who remain s unmoved, his arms crossed on his chest.  For a moment nobody says a word.  "Fine, Get the forklift loaded.  You better have plan should we get overrun."  And without another word, Brock's headed to the pile, loading the forklift.  Great, now hes mad.  There was no other way, I hope you can see that Brock...   As he was unloading, I begin to search the building for keys to the forklift.  If not, Brock could have his way and the wall would take much longer to build.  Hope we can get it finished by the summer at least...