thirty four.

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CHAPTER THIRTY FOUR,
dawn of the dead
















   HER GRANDMOTHER JEAN had always believed that the dead would rise with Hell once evil ran out of room

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HER GRANDMOTHER JEAN had always believed that the dead would rise with Hell once evil ran out of room.

Samantha never believed her, being a lover of science. She simply didn't think it was scientifically possible that the dead would rise, but she didn't believe a lot of things and she liked to blame it on the bitterness that resides with her grandmother's religion.

Jean got the last laugh.

The orange glow of the barn being ablaze resembled the brimstone that Samantha truly believed to be nonexistent, but if that was truly Hell then it gave her hope. The fire had been set form the inside, meaning somebody had to have set it - three missing somebody's.

The survivors were all scattered like leaves in the fall, trying to defend themselves from the dead that had marked the land with their rot. Samantha was near the farmhouse, trying to shoot her way towards the inferno that was once the barn full of walkers, hiding the little girl that landed them on there in the first place. She had to get to her brother, she had to get to Shane - she knew he was with Rick and Carl, and they had to have been the ones that had set up the fire.

Im not afraid.

Her head was practically swimming, her fear handicapping her. Samantha was so scared, so scared for everyone's safety including her big brother's. The silver chain of Shane's believed necklace was cold against her skin, the sweat on her chest making it glisten.

She was amongst the sea of the dead as they trampled over one another, their unstoppable army hungry and their teeth grinding together at her flesh.

I'm not afraid.

When she had been a little girl, Jean used to tell her stories. She told Samantha these stories to scare her, thinking that the fear might strengthen her - but all it did was birth out nightmares, and so she took sanctuary in her closet where the silence was worse. She tried so hard to be brave liked her brother, tried so hard to not be afraid.

I'm not afraid.

The fear would only grew however.

A walker lurched forward screaming at her and she screamed back, knocking it away with her pistol and she put a bullet in its head. Blood soaked her hair, mixing with the saltiness of her tears.

I'm not afraid.

Surrounding the barn was many walkers that had been torched from the flames. Samantha was so close that she could smell the burning of hair and flesh, which was probably the most awful smell that her nose has ever met.

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