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Deep Woods Off

Beyond the horizon, artillery roared. Maggie couldn't stop to yawn, but she was tired. She had been on the go for the past 78 hours and it was starting to take it's toll on her.

With no rest, she had been like a machine. It had been non-stop since the shift had come. Unlike a machine though, she was flesh and blood, and they eventually craved a break.

She leaned up against a tree, catching her breath. From her rucksack a feline head poked up.

"You tired?" Trump asked.

"Yeah," Mags said. "My body is telling me that it's time to cash out for a while."

Trump looked around and he replied, "That seems to be no option at the moment."

Mags nodded. She could hear the sounds of approaching feet as well. "You hold on there, I will get us out of here."

"I know you will, Maggie," the cat said.

She moved forward into the woods, as the shuffling feet of thousands of zombies proceeded to amble towards her.