"So I now seek refuge in a prison," I whisper to myself as the small boat reaches land. "How ironic." I step out onto the rocky surface and looked up at the prison known as Alcatraz. A large fence had been constructed around the facilities, leaving only a few yards of the island unprotected and open. I walked along the fence, various people from the other side eyeing me cautiously, and made my way toward the main docks where the gate stood.
"Cool!" A small child ran to the fence, locking his fingers through the chain links of the fence, and pressed his face against it. "Hey mister, you look sick. Are you going to change into a zombie?" I paused, slightly taken back by the question, then smiled. The boy looked no older than ten, and obviously had no real encounter with the infected, otherwise he wouldn't be so calm and awe-struck about the idea. "No, not yet," I replied in a raspy voice. "I still have something I have to do in this world before I can allow myself to pass from it."
I continued along my way as the boy's mother rushed to the fence and pulled her boy away, all the while her son protesting that 'he wanted to see the zombie some more.' When I reached the front gates, I found them to be strikingly less crowded than I had imagined. Only about a dozen people were gathered out in front of the gates, some who appeared more than capable of handling themselves, while others who made it here by nothing less than a miracle. I joined the group, being careful not to get too close to anyone, and awaited for whatever would come next.
"Welcome to Alcatraz," a man said as he walked toward the gates. "My name is Captain Grant of the United States Army, and I'd like to welcome you to your new homes." Bullshit, I thought. He held himself like a businessman, like someone out to con you, not like a man from the military. His uniform belied him as well, boasting the golden symbols worn by a major, not a captain. These men probably weren't even military, and if not, I wondered what their aim was. Did they think the facade of a military presence gave the people hope or comfort? What then should the infected come? Could they truly defend the island? I decided to keep my mouth shut for the time being.
"Now then," the man said as the gate opened. Two armed men walked to his side, each holding a M4 carbine, standard-issue of the US Army. "If you would please follow me, we can get everyone situated and a place to stay."
"Cool!" A small child ran to the fence, locking his fingers through the chain links of the fence, and pressed his face against it. "Hey mister, you look sick. Are you going to change into a zombie?" I paused, slightly taken back by the question, then smiled. The boy looked no older than ten, and obviously had no real encounter with the infected, otherwise he wouldn't be so calm and awe-struck about the idea. "No, not yet," I replied in a raspy voice. "I still have something I have to do in this world before I can allow myself to pass from it."
I continued along my way as the boy's mother rushed to the fence and pulled her boy away, all the while her son protesting that 'he wanted to see the zombie some more.' When I reached the front gates, I found them to be strikingly less crowded than I had imagined. Only about a dozen people were gathered out in front of the gates, some who appeared more than capable of handling themselves, while others who made it here by nothing less than a miracle. I joined the group, being careful not to get too close to anyone, and awaited for whatever would come next.
"Welcome to Alcatraz," a man said as he walked toward the gates. "My name is Captain Grant of the United States Army, and I'd like to welcome you to your new homes." Bullshit, I thought. He held himself like a businessman, like someone out to con you, not like a man from the military. His uniform belied him as well, boasting the golden symbols worn by a major, not a captain. These men probably weren't even military, and if not, I wondered what their aim was. Did they think the facade of a military presence gave the people hope or comfort? What then should the infected come? Could they truly defend the island? I decided to keep my mouth shut for the time being.
"Now then," the man said as the gate opened. Two armed men walked to his side, each holding a M4 carbine, standard-issue of the US Army. "If you would please follow me, we can get everyone situated and a place to stay."