Intense heat wafts up from the barred windows, crashing against my face as I watch the silhouettes of campers run past, barking orders and obscenities as they dart away from the fire that slowly begins to engulf my family's prison. 

"Hey!" I shout above the roar of the flames to a passing guard, "Let us out, we're still in here!"

My cries fall on deaf ears as the guard continues sprinting past, and my brother and sister begin to panic, pacing the shed as it grows warmer and warmer. 

Shaking, my sister shouts, "What are we gonna do?! We can't die in here!" 

Ignoring the instinct to shout for help and swallow more smoke, I pull the small dusty blanket off the cot, throw off the lid of the barrel of water, and dunk the blanket until it comes up soaked. Throwing it over my siblings, who protest at the sudden wetness, I strip my bomber off and repeat the process, throwing it on as it soaks me to the bone before I pick up the stool and brace it against myself.

Backing up as far as the small space will allow me, I run forward and slam the stool's seat against the shed door with a resonating crack, though the door only heaves. My arms ache where the legs dig into my wet jacket, but I brace myself and try once more, but it only serves to jab the stool's legs into my shoulder, and I yelp in pain, stumbling back. 

"Cassy!" Felix shouts, steadying me as I drop the stool. 

"The door," I cough, pointing at the stool. "We have to get it open; don't touch it directly, or it'll burn you!" 

"I got it," Felix affirms. Octavia hands him the soaked blanket and huddles against me as I drape my wet jacket over us and give Felix room to work. Repeating my action, he backs up against the far side of the shed, braces the stool against his shoulder, and charges like a freight train right out of hell and straight towards the door. 

As Felix is much larger than my sister and I and used to play football, Felix slams into the door with enough force that it cracks, splintering part of the door away and cracking the legs of the stool. He backs up again, and a faint voice yells over the flames. 

"Hold on just a bit longer," the voice shouts over the flames. Handing my sister the jacket, I dart towards the barred windows to try and peek outside and spot the fluffy blonde hair of Dani just outside as she waves a wet cloth about outside. "The fire has reached the door; be careful!" 

Relief floods my veins as I am assured that we haven't been left here for dead, and I shout back, "Felix is cracking open the door; stand back!" 

Her blonde head disappears from the window towards the side of the shed where our belongings are stuffed, and I hope she has enough sense to move them out of the way before the fire consumes everything. 

With one last crack, Felix finally breaks through the shed door and stumbles to the ground with a groan. Grabbing Octavia, I pull her out of the shed, and we stumble to the ground, coughing and covered in soot and smoke. A gentle hand pats my back as strong arms lift me to my feet, and Dani's concerned face greets me. 

"I came as soon as I could," she pants, a fresh splatter of blood on her arms and a shotgun in her hands. "Come with me; you'll need your weapons back!" 

"Hold on, we need our bags," I shout, pulling away from her to search for our bags. 

She gestures to where she piled our bags a ways from the fire and shouts back, "They're over here, now come on, move it!" 

Not needing to be told twice, I help my sister to her feet, grab our bags, heft them onto our backs, and follow Dani as she darts towards a reinforced shed where a group of other campers is already gathered. All around the inside of the camp, survivors are making their way to the front gates, picking off Widows who attempt to approach as the Widows throw Molotovs at and over the gates. Most of the campers ignore us until we get to the armory shed. 

Almost immediately, we're met with the grumpy old man from earlier and a few people from his group. "This is their doing!" he exclaims, rounding on my family and me, a rifle in his hands that he levels at my chest. 

I freeze, collecting my siblings behind me as I glare defiantly at the older survivor. 

"They're not the ones who brought the Widows here, Ethan," Dani defends, taking a stance between the barrel of his gun and myself. 

"This can't be a coincidence," Ethan growls, attempting to move around Dani, but Dani only moves with him, her shotgun lowered. "They show up, and hours later, the Widows attack? This has to be their fault! They were the scouting team!" 

"Stand down, Ethan!" Dani orders. "These three are not the ones responsible for this; take your anger out on the Widows; these three are here to help us." 

I knit my eyebrows at being volunteered to help them repel the attack, but I nod in agreement, knowing that arguing against it would lead to me getting shot. 

The unmistakable roar of a diesel engine reaches my ears, and I glance out of the armory's window towards the gate in time to see a group of campers gather on the walls, shooting intently at something on the other side. 

"They're gonna ram the gates!" A camper shouts as a dozen others start rolling out road spikes inside the gate. 

Ethan raises his rifle at my head, growling, "We can take care of this problem here and now, Dani!" 

Dani moves again in front of me, trying to back my siblings and me out of the armory. "Killing these three won't stop the assault! Get your asses out there and make yourselves useful!" 

Ethan's crew hesitates for a split second, glaring defiantly at her and my family before they quickly dart out of the shed, leaving Ethan with us. Realizing that he has no backing anymore, he lowers his gun and growls, "They'll answer for this once we're safe," before following his people out towards the gates. 

As soon as he disappears into the fray, I turn to Dani and exclaim, "This wasn't us, I swear!"

"It's not me you have to convince," Dani replies, presenting my bow and quiver to me. "Help me defend my people, and it'll go a long way in convincing the people who think you're responsible for this." 

Nodding, I accept my bow and quiver from her, clipping my quiver back to my belt and gesturing for my siblings to arm up. Felix grabs a shotgun, and Octavia grabs a pistol, both of them making sure the guns are full before nodding to me. 

"We're ready," I tell Dani. 

"Then come on, they need our help out there," Dani orders, leading us back out of the armory and into the chaos. 

The campers have knocked aside several of the heavy picnic tables on either side of the main road into camp, and some others have laid out an extra row of road spikes, preparing for the charge the Widows have advertised. A wave of Molotovs are tossed once more over the walls, shattering like a symphony of tiny bells, the flame enveloping the front gate. 

The screaming echoes, morphing and distorting as the images in the flickering fire whirl in their hypnotic dance. A familiar voice calls out to me from the flames, hoarse, coughing, "Take it, Cassandra! To your mother! Keep it hidden, keep them safe!"

From the farthest reaches of my mind, Uncle Tommy's blurred face appears as an apparition before me in the flames, both here and non-existent. Behind him, through the fire, the gates splinter apart with a mighty crack, and Uncle Tommy's voice, now distorted and higher in pitch, calls out, "Cassandra, move!" 

Air is forced from my lungs as something large collides into my side, knocking me to the ground and wrapping their arms around me as ambers and ash rain down from the sky. Where I stood seconds before, a large armored vehicle zips by and would have turned me into paste had I continued to stand and gawk at the flames. Above me, Dani is panting, her shoulders heaving, and over her head, I finally see the truck ram into the flag pole at the center of camp, the blaring horn echoing throughout camp. 

"Come on, get up!" Dani demands as she stands, grabbing my arms and hauling me to my feet. "We gotta shut off that noise before it attracts Ferals!" 

With no time to ask her if 'Feral' means the infected, she drags me behind a flipped picnic table as Widows start to swarm into the camp through the busted gates, guns blazing and bullets flying. My brother and sister dive behind another table, picking off the Widows who get too close to them. Another truck drives in, much slower than the first that rammed the gates, and standing on top is a redheaded woman donned in heavy riot gear, a rifle resting on one shoulder, and a manic grin on her face. 

"Alright, boys!" The woman yells over the carnage. "You know who we're looking for! I want them alive!" 

Beside me, Dani pales, and the squall in her eyes loses its momentum for a brief moment before it returns tenfold, a look of pure, unadulterated rage washing over her. 

"Get that truck shut off," Dani growls, hefting her shotgun as she glares at what appears to be a Widow commander. "I'll cover you." 

Nodding, finally pulled from the memory of Uncle Tommy, I signal for my siblings to follow my lead. Drawing my bow and knocking an arrow, I spring from cover, my arrow finding its mark into the eye of an unsuspecting Widow as my siblings jump into action, finding their places on either side of me. 

"What's the plan, Cassy?" Felix asks. 

"I'm shutting off that truck before it draws in the infected," I tell him, pulling back another arrow as we slowly make our way to the center of camp. "I need you two to get the other campers to safety." 

Octavia asks, "Where the hell are we supposed to take them? Their camp is being overrun!" 

I point to the large log cabin where guards are ushering in the women and children. "There, where we spoke with Leon the first time! Help the guards take care of the survivors, and I'll meet you there when I can!" I dig into the front pocket of my bag, producing a small, smooth metallic locket, and hand it to my sister. "If anything happens to me, Octavia, keep this safe, alright? You know what to do." 

She opens her mouth to argue but is interrupted as a Widow attempts to blast her head off. Unfortunately for the Widow, Felix gets to him first and pistol-whips the bandit before any harm could come to our sister. 

"Go!" I demand, readying my bow and charging for the truck, firing arrow after arrow at any Widow who gets in my way.

A presence beside me nearly makes me jump out of my skin, and I nearly shoot the eye out of a young man who had joined me in my charge. Not much taller than myself, he wields what looks to be a katana, dressed in dark jeans, a worn leather jacket, and a faded orange handkerchief. Upon realizing he has been spotted, he casts a grin my way. "Hey, new kid!" He greets as he slashes across the chest of a Widow attempting to stop us. "Looks like we had the same idea! Keep going; I've got you covered!" 

The strangely friendly young man and I make our way towards the large armored vehicle, downing Widows left, right, and center until, finally, the noisy truck stands before us. Opening the driver's door, I yelp as a body falls out, dressed in the same gear as the Cottonwood guards, with a bullet hole in the back of her head. A brick had been lain across the gas pedal in the truck's floorboard, though it had been jostled from the truck's impact. Two more dead Cottonwood guards had been placed in this truck with matching fatal wounds, and although the body was no longer lying on the horn of the steering wheel, the noise persisted, and after checking the key in the ignition, it had been broken off inside, the butt of the key flush with the ignition, making it impossible to shut the vehicle off quickly.

"Pop the hood!" The young man demands, downing another Widow. "I'll get the horn taken care of!" 

The latch for the hood of this vehicle isn't hard to find at all, and once the hood is unlatched, the young man pushes it open, slots his sword into the engine compartment, and slices the cord feeding the horn power and the vehicle goes silent, save for the rumble of the engine. We share sighs of relief, and he flashes me another smile. "Nice work! Now, let's deal with these-" 

The truck lurches, throwing me out of the driver's seat and into the dirt, the horribly familiar roar of nightmares rattling my bones. The young man quickly grabs my arms and pulls me away from the vehicle, and I notice that the Widows are beginning to back out of the camp, most of them smiling. The truck's side panel bulges with the horrible sound of metal grinding in on itself, the roar once more ringing out from the giant metal deathtrap. 

With one last lurch, the side of the vehicle explodes as a massive, meaty fist protrudes from its metal shell. As the creature within retracts its arm, the folded metal of the now broken armor slices into its mutated grayish-black skin, and it howls once more in rage. 

Leon's voice rings out above the sound of panicking survivors, "Evacuate the camp!"