Captain Vaughn was struggling to think clearly.

He knew something was wrong as he sat in the passenger seat of the Land Rover with what remained of his squadron in the back, but it was as if his mind was swimming through thick fog.

Something was just wrong, but he couldn’t put his finger on what it was. Evey time he tried to focus on whatever the problem was, it slipped away from his mind, like a bar of soap in the bath. The fog took over, and he carried on following the orders he’d been given.

The orders. Orders that had come from somewhere, but he couldn’t remember where.

Escort the asset to the location of his choosing. Make sure the asset is safe at all times. Defend the asset with your life if you have to.

Those were the orders, but they didn’t sound right. And he couldn’t remember where the orders had come from.

He glanced sideways at Lee, as the private drove the Wolf over the rough track towards the farmhouse the orders had directed them towards. Lee, like the other remaining soldiers, was on edge. The last twenty-four hours had been a living hell, a nightmare that had seen most of Captain Vaughn’s squadron wiped out in a matter of a couple of hours. The dead had risen, surrounded them.

Captain Vaughn frowned, trying to crystalise the memories, but the fog kept swirling through his mind. They’d had other orders before the current ones. Secure a hospital. Protect the public. That had been in Oxford... but then a few of the patients had died when the slug-things invaded their bodies, and then shortly afterwards everything had gone to hell.

Why is it so hard to think? Captain Vaughn thought.

This wasn’t like him.

He was well-known for having a cool head under pressure, seeing problems and dealing with them, staying calm under fire. Even when the enemy was the undead, he’d kept his cool, kept his men focussed on their jobs. Steadied their nerves and given the necessary orders. The orders had stated clearly that none of the men were to engage with the weird floating screen things. Scientists suspected they were the result of a Russian or Chinese bio-weapon or toxin designed to cause confusion in the west. So Captain Vaughn had followed those orders, as had his men, all of them ignoring the prompts regarding experience points and choosing a class.

They’d focussed on their jobs, protecting the public from the madness that had erupted twenty-four hours earlier.

The undead had attacked, Captain Vaughn and his men had fought back.

And now the orders had changed.

Escort the asset to the location of his choosing. Make sure the asset is safe at all times. Defend the asset with your life if you have to.

It was when he had shown up. That was when something had shifted. The magician had appeared, an actual magician, fireballs and everything. They had been at the hospital, running low on ammunition, and then…

And then new orders had come through.

Abandon the hospital. Escort the asset. Communications blackout until the asset is safe. No other orders take priority until the asset is safe.

Captain Vaughn sighed. There was sometimes no accounting for orders, and he could see some certain sense in what he’d been instructed to do. The magician was important. Powerful. He could do things that no-one else could. So command, where he assumed the orders had come from, they must have told him…

No! His internal voice shouted, This isn’t right!

A notification appeared in front of his eyes.

You attempt to overcome the Command Person Spell cast on you by the Level 3 Magician. Willpower check, Level 3. Willpower check failed. Try again tomorrow.

Captain Vaughn relaxed. He and his men had their orders. Everything was fine. They were doing a valuable job in amongst all of this madness, making sure the asset, the magician, was safe.

“Sir,” Private Lee said, “I think this is it?”

A voice called out from the back of the Wolf.

“That’s correct. This is the place. Captain Vaughn, I think it would be a good idea to secure the area, don’t you?”

Captain Vaughn nodded at the suggestion. “Of course, sir. There appear to be see some civilians in the area.”

*

Gary watched the Land Rover pull up to the gate just outside the farmhouse. He could made out half a dozen soldiers as they got out, their formation tight and their automatic rifles at the ready.

“Well, shit,” he muttered.

“Is there a problem?” Rain asked, also squinting at the distant figures.

“I don’t know,” Gary said. “I don’t know why the military would have come here. They can’t be looking for me, can they? No, that makes no sense.”

“Are they dangerous?” Rain asked.

“I mean, well, no. They shouldn’t be. I mean, it’s the British Military, isn’t it? Best of the best and all of that. But if they register me as a zombie and see you before we’ve explained ourselves, then there could be a serious problem. I don’t know how tough you are, but I think a few bullets would hurt you. Right?”

“Why would they target me?” Rain asked, blinking.

“Well, because of, you know...”

Gary waved a finger in a circular motion in front of his face.

Rain mimicked the gesture with a look of confusion.

“Your skin colour,” Gary said. “It will freak them out.”

Again, Rain looked puzzled.

“My skin colour? Why is that a problem? You have different skin colours in your world. Like Chantelle, she has dark skin.”

Gary did a double-take.

“Sorry, are you trying to tell me there’s no such thing as racism where you come from?”

“Racism? What’s that?”

“It’s...do you know what? Never mind.”

Gary and Rain kneeled down to watch the soldiers as they fanned out around the farmhouse. He could make out Jonathan and the others coming out to greet the soldiers.

*

Jonathan, the de facto leader of the survivors, held up his hands as the half a dozen soldiers surrounded them.

“Easy, fellas, easy! We’re on the same side here, okay? I have to say it’s good to see you.”

The six soldiers were stony faced, though two of the younger ones looked relieved that they were dealing with the living, not the dead. All of them were jittery, not having slept for over a day and having been through a nightmare beyond imagining. Between that, their low ammunition, the Captain behaving oddly and the loss of half of their comrades, they had a lot to be on edge about.

Captain Vaughn got out of the Land Rover.

“Okay, you civilians there. I need you to surrender any weapons that you are carrying. We’re under strict orders here and we can’t allow anyone to be holding anything that risks the asset.”

“Okay, okay,” Jonathan said.

He turned to Fran, Peter, Chantelle, Goremaster and Silvia, who had all been rounded up by the soldiers.

“We better do as they say. They won’t harm us.”

The others dropped the makeshift weapons and tools that they were carrying.

Jonathan, however, kept his sword hidden in his stash. He noticed Goremaster had done the same with his mace, counting on the soldiers to still be unused to the option to stash weapons.

Captain Vaughn nodded, satisfied.

“Right, good. First things first, are there any threats nearby? Are there any...”

Captain Vaughn struggled to get the word out. He was still having a hard time coming to terms with the idea that the dead were coming back to life.

“... zombies nearby. Undead. Walkers. Eaters. You know what I mean.”

“Ah, well, no,” Jonathan said, “Not strictly speaking.”

“Well, there is one,” Fran piped up.

“But he’s with us,” Jonathan hastily added, “And he’s not a zombie. Not really.”

“Location?”

“He went to a nearby farm to look for food.”

“You’re saying he’s not a threat?”

Jonathan had to think about it for a second.

“No. No, he’s not, and it’s a bit of a funny story...”

Captain Vaughn cut him off. “Fine. This farmhouse is now under military jurisdiction and I’m going to ask you all to leave the premises...”

The group let out a collective gasp. Protests started spilling from their mouths. Before the captain could respond, however, an authoritative voice broke through the voices.

“Now, now, Captain Vaughn,” a voice called out from the back of the Wolf, “I don’t think that’s going to be necessary, is it?”

“Sir?”

Why am I calling him sir? He’s not even military...

“It’s fine,” the magician said as he stepped out from under the landrover’s tarpaulin. “I don’t think they mean us any harm, do you?”

“Sir, your safety is my primary concern. I have my orders.”

The magician, a handsome, stocky man in his early forties dressed in an expensive blue suit and tie, patted the captain on the back.

“It’s fine, Captain, it’s fine. Let’s just make sure the area is secure and then we’ll work out what to do with these... well, squatters I suppose.”

The magician smiled at Jonathan in a way that indicated that he didn’t mean the word squatters. Jonathan relaxed. He didn’t quite understand what was going on, but common sense seemed to be prevailing.

Captain Vaughn nodded.

“You heard him. You four secure the building, the rest of you at ease.”

*

Gary and Rain lay flat on their stomachs as they observed the tense proceedings.

Gary shaded his eyes as somebody who seemed in charge stepped out from the back of the Land Rover.

“No...” he muttered, “Is that…?”

He didn’t understand what was going on or why, but his heart soared for a few seconds.

“It’s my uncle!” he said, with a huge smile on his face, “It’s my uncle David!”

Gary had no idea how or why his mother’s brother was being escorted by the military, but it didn’t matter. If his uncle was alive, then there was a chance that his mother and father were.

He squinted again, hoping to catch sight of them getting out of the back of the Land Rover.

Thirty seconds passed.

A minute.

Another minute as the soldiers relaxed and the two groups mingled.

No-one else got out of the Land Rover.

“That’s your uncle?” Rain asked, “The man in the blue suit?”

“Yeah,” Gary said, pressing down his disappointment that there was no sign of his parents. “What about him?”

Rain scowled as she breathed in through her nose.

“He reeks of magic.”