The autumn sunlight shown down brightly upon the metal shipping containers of the makeshift wall, heat reflecting back to warm the nearby surroundings and hold back the chill of oncoming winter. Walking atop the improvised fortifications were a man in his late thirties and a young boy of seven.

"Do you know what that is over there?" the father asked while pointing to a cluster of buildings constructed from corrugated tin. Daniel Tucker had lived the past ten years inside the walls, so he knew his way around, but since it would one day be his son's responsibility to care for the place, Daniel had to familiarize him with it at an early age. Unlike his father, Peter's hair wasn't a sandy blond but pure black as he took after his mother's side of the family.

"Those belong to the Potters," young Peter replied to his father's query.

"Good," Daniel praised. "But, who are the Potters, and what do they do?"

"They make the bricks for building stuff," Peter told him.

"Building what stuff?" his father prompted.

"I don't know," Peter admitted. "Stuff."

Daniel chuckled. Kneeling down beside his son, he pointed to a different part of the wall-enclosed settlement. A large pit, fenced off by old cars laying on their sides had been dug into the ground with a ladder vanishing down into its depth.

"That's one of the digging pits," Daniel explained. "The ground underneath has a lot of clay, so we dig it out and bring it to the Potters. They shape it into bricks and bake it in the heat of the sun. Once the clay becomes hard, we can take it into the tunnels and use it to support the walls as we expand into new areas."

"Is that why they call this place Bunker City?" Peter inquired.

"Yes," Daniel confirmed. "We only keep things above ground that need the sun such as the brick drying area, crop fields, fruit trees..."

"And the chickens!" Peter interrupted excitedly.

"Yes," Daniel laughed. "And, the chickens. They wouldn't do so well in tunnels. They need room to move around and find things to eat."

"If there are tunnels everywhere, won't we fall in?" Peter asked.

"No," Daniel denied. "The tunnels and underground rooms are actually outside the walls so we don't chop out the ground underneath us or the mess up the soil under the plants and trees they need for their food. And don't worry, we have many things in place to seal off tunnels and rooms if anyone or anything digs in from the outside that we don't want inside."

Looking over the forested country surrounding the encampment of Bunker City, Daniel noticed a shuffling form nearby. Although unpleasant, he knew Peter needed to face the realities of the world in which they lived.

"What's that?" Daniel asked, directing his son's attention to the shadowy figure stumbling toward them.

"Is that a person?" Peter asked, squinting to see better in the darkened region of the forest.

"It used to be," Daniel replied. "When a person dies and isn't cremated, they can come back, wandering around and attacking other people."

"What's cream...uh...what was it?" Peter questioned.

"Cremated," Daniel explained. "It means burned up. If there's anything left, they'll start moving. If someone gets bitten by them, they can turn into a zombie very quickly."

Peter gripped his father's hand tightly.

"Don't worry," Daniel soothed. "They can't get us. As long as we're behind the walls or in our tunnels, we're safe. I just wanted you to know what's out there and why we stay inside."

A gunshot drew Daniel's immediate attention back to the woods, and he looked in time to see the zombie wilt to the ground. Someone else was nearby, but the trees concealed whoever it was from view. As Daniel stared hard, a small white flag poked out from behind a tree and waved slightly up and down.

Climbing one of the ladders on the back of the shipping container, a brown haired, square jawed man joined them on the wall. His piercing blue eyes didn't even bother looking toward Daniel or Peter as his full focus was on the woods. Kyle Davies didn't have the military uniform he'd proudly worn for two years before the zombies had overrun the military and he'd been left on his own. He held his rifle in well-practiced hands, crosshairs resting on the white flag while waiting for the person holding it to present a better target.

The man carrying the white flag stepped slowly into the open but remained difficult to see as he was wearing camouflage fatigues of greens and browns, perfectly matching the surrounding foliage. A gun rested in the holster on his hip and a rifle across his back. He looked the part of a soldier, but his clothes were old and worn with identification patches and rank missing. A few threadbare holes broke the pattern of the camouflage on the legs of his pants.

"Greetings," Daniel offered to the man standing outside the wall. "We haven't been visited by anyone living in some time. What brings you to our city?"

"You have a nice place here," the man said without answering the question. "Lots of people, supplies, good defenses."

"What do you want?" Daniel asked again with more insistence while still remaining polite.

"I come from a settlement called Citadel," the man went on. "We've been self-sufficient for some time, but our population is growing to the point we need to expand. We've decided your settlement is perfect for an addition, so you have twenty-four hours to get out."

"I've got a clear shot at his head," Kyle whispered while looking through the scope of his rifle.

"Hold your fire," Daniel hissed back, trying to keep the situation from spiraling out of control.

"Where exactly are we supposed to go?" Daniel questioned.

"That's your problem," the man answered coldly.

"We have ample space and supplies," Daniel offered. "We'd be willing to share. This can be a peaceful arrangement."

"You don't seem to be hearing me," the man growled, his hand dropping to the grip of his holstered pistol. "We don't intend to share. We need space, and you have it. You're going to give it to us, or we're going to take it. You have twenty-four hours to clear out peacefully, or we'll move you out ourselves, and we won't be gentle if we have to do it. Twenty-four hours is all..."

The rifle shot partially deafened Daniel, but it was far worse for the man outside the wall as he kicked over backwards, dead.

"I told you to hold your fire!" Daniel shouted. "Now they're certain to come gunning for us."

"That was going to happen no matter what I did," Kyle argued. "Now, they'll have one less. I suggest you sound the alert because it looks like we're going to war."