Kevin was the last man up the gangplank, and he motioned to one of the crane operators from Walton sitting at the controls. The man pulled a lever, and the gearing system retracted the metal ramp up and away from the docks, preventing anyone, living or otherwise, from coming onto the ship.

Despite the large amounts of zombies incoming, Kevin's group of refugees were in no immediate danger. The deck of the vessel measured ten feet up from the dock, and a three foot gap existed between the wooden planks and the metal hull. Free from threats momentarily, Kevin stood by the railing and focused his attention on Adam.

The first swing of Adam's wood baseball bat made a loud crack as it connected hard with the closest zombie in range. Spinning in the opposite direction, Adam swung his aluminum bat and caused a hollow metal echo as it downed another zombie.

Adam's strategy was unique and effective. He would find the largest group of zombies making the most gains toward his position, and hurl himself at them, smashing and cracking their skulls with his two bats. After disposing of a dozen or more, Adam would select the next group and attack them. His technique allowed him keep the zombies at a distance and prevent them from overwhelming him, but only at first.

The initial numbers of zombies had been marginal, as the buildings and chain-link fences had blocked some of them from immediately getting in to where Adam fought them. As the incoming zombies put more pressure on the fences, the chain-link partitions began to yield under the increasing volume of undead until they collapsed in a rattling crash of metal against concrete. The walking corpses, no longer held back, poured into the base in a rancid and slow moving flood.

Adam noticed the growing crowd of zombies pressing in from all sides. Rather than continue battling his opponents in the open where their numbers put him at a severe disadvantage, Adam made a tactical withdrawal, heading toward a small building and smashing aside three zombies in his way.

Tossing the bats onto the roof ahead of him, Adam lunged for the edge of the building. He snagged the eave with only his fingertips, but his strong grip let drag himself up and over the edge by brute strength and roll onto the higher level.

The zombies gradually moved in to surround the building, their decaying fingers and hands clawing at the edges but unable to exert the force necessary to pull themselves up as Adam had done.

Adam rested a moment, laying on his back and breathing deeply. Exertion wasn't the only thing bothering him. He lifted his arm for a better look at the bleeding wound the zombie had left behind. The skin was twisted and ripped, and it reminded him of a clay sculpture ravaged by a vengeful child. Under the top layer of blood, he could see the skin was turning gray, the initial stages of the rapid decay infection he now carried. It would take time before it spread completely through his system, so he had a few moments longer to do what he came out here to accomplish.

He rolled back to his feet and collected his bats. Setting the metal one aside for the time being where he wouldn't lose or trip over it, he approached the edge of the building. He gripped the wooden handle of his bat in both hands and lifted it high above his head. As he dropped into a crouch, Adam brought the bat crashing down to cave in the skull of a zombie with a loud crack of his bat against bone. He repeated his attack several times, moving around the perimeter of the building to keep the vanquished dead from accumulating too quickly.

The wood fibers of the bat were absorbing the blood from his attacks, turning the weapon solid red and making his grip harder to maintain. He took off his shirt, revealing more tattoos on the chiseled muscles of his chest and stomach. Using his knife, he cut the shirt into long strips and wrapped the grips of both bats. When his weapon modification was complete, he added an additional strip of cloth and tied each bat to his belt, ensuring if the weapons slipped from his hands, he'd be able to retrieve them quickly.

George returned to the main deck and stood beside Kevin. "The ship's clear and in working order. It looks as if everyone left here and didn't have enough people to make use of the ship."

Kevin didn't immediately reply.

"What's going on over there?" George asked when he noticed the focused attention of the refugees on a small building surrounded by zombies. It was in that moment, Adam stood up with his dual weapons. "What's he doing?"

"He got bit," Kevin explained. "And, he volunteered to stay behind."

George gripped the railing, his knuckles turning white. Like Kevin, he wanted to do something, but he didn't have a cure for the disease spreading through Adam's veins. Everyone who got bitten was instantly a dead man; it just took time for the full effect to manifest.

Standing helplessly by and watching a man fight valiantly to the death when the outcome was already known was nearly unbearable, but neither Kevin nor George would look away. Adam had given his life for everyone on this ship, and they owed it to him to see the fight through to the finish.

Adam swung his aluminum bat in a downward, golf style swing, hitting a zombie in the face and catapulting it backwards and away from the building. The slain had been accumulating to the point where the undead climbing on top of them could look across the roof and toward the one man holding them at bay.

The zombies reached out, their hands slapping and scraping against the roof, leaving bloody marks behind. Mouths hung agape or chewed on the empty air in anticipation of the kill.

Time had continued outside of Adam's perceptions, but he'd been able to gauge its passing by the progressing infection in his arm. The original wound was located on his forearm, but the dying skin, spreading outward from the injury, was turning his arm a slate gray from his shoulder to wrist. He also took notice of his reduction in mobility; the arm was still functional, but it moved slower and with more difficulty than before.

The zombies started getting onto the roof. They were high enough to lean over the eave and flop themselves onto the roof like a fish out of water. Adam did his best to drive them back, smashing them with his bats and jettisoning them off the building, but too many were right behind the one he would evict, and while he cleared one side of the roof, the other side was advancing unopposed.

Pulling out his sawed off shotgun, he used up what few shells he had left, rapidly clearing the undead who were making progress in challenging him for supremacy of the building where he was king of the hill.

A zombie got too close, and Adam shoved the gun in its mouth and fired. The head exploded similar to a melon loaded with a fistful of firecrackers, and the decapitated body tumbled back and out of sight. Because he'd just used the last of his ammunition, Adam jammed the empty weapon into the mouth of another zombie. Swinging his bat, he struck the grip of the shotgun and drove both barrels out through the rear of the corpse's skull.

A solid hit by his wooden bat connected with a shambling corpse on his left, but the wood, weakened from age and use, broke under the impact, shattering the bat above the grip. Because of the destruction of Adam's weapon, the zombie wasn't killed, merely battered. It turned back toward him and lunged with its skeletal hands outstretched. Teeth sank into Adam's forearm for the second time.

"Get off!" Adam snarled as he shoved the broken handle of the bat through the zombie's eye. Tearing the bloody implement from the killed zombie, he shoved it up underneath the jaw of a different zombie. As before, the jagged edge pierced the rotting flesh effectively and tore through neural tissue in the brain.

A zombie latched onto him from behind. Because it possessed only one hand, Adam managed to break its hold and shove the vile thing away before it could bite him. The left half of the zombie's head exploded outward, spraying blood, bone, and brain matter across the roof. It was second before Adam heard the sound of the rifle that had fired the powerful shot.

Red pulled back the bolt on her sniper rifle, ejecting the spent shell casing and installing a new bullet. She put the rifle to her shoulder and fired another round, obliterating a second zombie's head with equal precision.

Kevin watched as Isabella and George readied their own guns. Thinking it a good idea, he opened a case he'd found during his search of the military base. Housed inside the padded container was a scoped rifle of his own. It wasn't the sleek and streamlined version held by Red. Kevin's was in actuality an anti-vehicle rifle with a distinctive square tip on the end of the barrel. Pulling out the two diagonal supports under the weapon, Kevin set up the rifle on the deck and stretched out on his stomach for firing.

The tremendously powerful round was made for piercing metal armor plate, so the soft bodies of the zombies were no match. The first undead hit by Kevin's shot exploded, and the two behind it were catapulted from the building.

Kevin chambered the next round and took aim at his second target. In his mind, he perfectly grasped the situation, and he guessed his companions did as well. Even if they could strike down every zombie closing in on Adam's position, and they didn't have enough ammunition to even come close, they still couldn't save him.

Firing at the undead here was a waste of valuable ammunition, but Kevin and his people were survivors. They fought against a hopeless situation every single day. It was the world they lived in. They struggled on when there was no hope for hopelessness and despair were as much of a constant threat as the scavengers and the undead. If the survivors lost their will to fight against the odds, giving in to the anguish that had claimed so many over the years, they would certainly die, some by their own hand.

Reloading their guns, they fired again, picking off the zombies nearest to Adam and giving him some much needed room. It was only a temporary respite as the zombies continued to advance, almost immediately replacing those who fell dead under the withering fire of the survivors on the distant ship.

Adam's infected arm barely responded to him anymore, and the zombies kept trying to hang on to him and weigh him down to the point where they could keep him from getting away while they fed. So far, he'd managed to shrug them off, but his available space to maneuver was shrinking away to nothing. He knew it would be only minutes, perhaps less, before they'd be able to overwhelm him. The thought of dying didn't bother him as much as being eaten alive.

As yet another zombie grabbed his shoulders from behind, Adam caught sight of something.

"Perfect," Adam said aloud as an idea snapped together in his consciousness.

A walking corpse in front of him had once been a soldier as it was still attired in the combat gear it'd been wearing when turned.

The perspiration on Adam's chest and arms made it more difficult for the corpses to get a firm hold on him, but they didn't stop trying. Tearing loose one last time from the undead clutching at him, Adam grabbed for the item hooked on the dead soldier's belt and snared it.

Decaying hands pulled him down to the roof, and Adam felt pain in numerous locations as the living dead began to tear through his skin and into the muscle underneath. Holding the ring of the grenade's pin up like a trophy in his blood covered hand, Adam used his last seconds of life to laugh.

A giant fireball blossomed on the roof. Adam, the zombies, and most of the roof structure were vaporized in an expanding sphere of bright flames.