The first thing you notice about the newcomer is that he's holding a handgun. The second thing you notice is his neat blue uniform and the badge above his breast pocket. He's an officer of the law. At least, he was. Suspicion is written all over his face. To serve and protect has likely taken on more of a personal meaning to him since this infection started.

Another officer stands back, this one just as cautious of your group, but at least his gun is still holstered at his side -- though his right hand rests on it. To the other side of the officer stands a man in civilian clothing. He too has a gun and is holding it the same way as the aggressive officer. They look so similar -- same tan skin, same wide shape of lips, same jet black hair -- they look like brothers.

"Not another inch!" the officer demands. He has a slight Spanish accent. "Not one friggin inch!" His hostile voice rises over the fussing undead. They're thumping into the thick glass of their barricaded store prisons, grunting and groaning the way they do. Zombies. Gun toting paranoid people. This is not how you'd like to spend your day.

You curse under your breath. "Please, I'm just trying to find my family," you say to the officer.

"Yeah?" he challenges. "Show your skin. Pull up your shirt sleeves and waists. Lift your pant legs." When everyone seemed confused he yells, "now!"

Jumping into action, you do as requested. Blood is caked on your hands, splashed up your arms, splattered on your clothes and face, but by the gods, there isn't a single wound on you. The officer, whose name tag reads A. Lopez, moves from you to Paul. Paul bares his arms, legs, and torso. He gets an approving nod from Lopez. Next is Mack, then Po, and finally Buster. After some hesitation, Buster reluctantly lifts his pant leg and reveals a gruesome bite mark just above his ankle. He shoots his family an apologetic look, probably thinking about how he didn't mean for them to find out this way.

Mack gasps, stunned. Paul closes his eyes and lowers his head in silence. Lopez gives a minute look of regret.

"Buenas noche, amigo," Lopez says. His gun is pointing right between Buster's terrified eyes.

"No wait-" Paul starts, but it's too late.

The bullet is in Buster's brain before Paul can move forward. You shout something unintelligible out of shock. Mack runs to Buster and falls next to his crumpled form in tears. She takes a moment for herself, then gently closes his eyes with her surprisingly steady hand. Then she tears into Lopez.

"You twisted creep!"

"Hey!" Lopez shouts back at her. "Watch it, or he won't be the only number on the death toll today." She glares at him with malice. "You back up, hick," Lopez adds forcefully, turning his gun on Paul. "He was as good as dead already."

"He weren't dead yet," says Paul, with pain in his crinkled eyes.

"You kidding me?" Lopez asks. "You saw them out there didn't you? They're real and they're monsters! That bite mark is the first step. No way to stop it. He was doomed."

"Maybe he was," cries Mack, "but ya still killed him in cold blood. Those dead things out there, when they kill, they don't know any better. It's a lot easier to forgive 'em. But when another human kills, well, he's just evil." Her eyes are moist, but they're burning with hatred as she glares at him.

"It's not the same world it was yesterday, girly," the man says venomously. "Maybe you'll get with the times, sooner or later. Rest of you are safe, as long as you don't pull anything stupid."

You can tell by the look in their eyes that at some point, the three of them will do something stupid indeed. But Paul nods and agrees to keep his cool all the same. He wasn't the one holding the gun for now.

"We got an understanding?" Lopez asks, studying you and your companions all in turn. When no one responds outright, he takes that as a yes. "Good. Trev, Parker, block that restaurant back up. As for you guys, go ahead of me. Non-infected goes down here."

The Non-infected - SKIP TO CHAPTER 47