The Corner Store stood within a patch of broken asphalt. Small islands of tall, starved weeds floating in a sea of black. Surrounding the Corner Store was a twelve foot concrete wall. The wall surrounded the city of Ransom. Ransom, once full of the living, now draped in a walking death.
The wall gate opened and waited. Two tractors, each pulling a wagon, rumbled into the city. Upon the wagons stood twenty people, all convicted of crimes outside the walls. The few infected near the wall began to stumble toward the noise of the tractors. The tractors stopped and BlackWater guards dismounted from the tractors. A black SUV pulled up behind the tractors and several more guards stepped out with automatic rifles. Erik watched as the guards shouted and fired into the air. The new residents leapt from the wagons.
Some scattered and attempted to distance themselves from the guards. Several of the runners were stopped by gruesome traps. Partially paralyzed, infected, monsters that trolled the tall grass near the gate. They lay in wait for the living to trip and fall over them. Scenes Erik preferred not to recall from his welcome to the city weeks ago. The traumatized sat around the wagons and cried. Soon to be motivated by nervous Blackwater guards with a swift strike to the side of the face. If they were lucky, an effective threat motivated them. A group spotted the Corner Store and began to move toward, what seemed to them, safety. The remaining prisoners, frozen in fear, were shot and left in the drop off zone. The guards mounted the tractors and SUV and turned around. They disappeared back to the outside world leaving the prisoners to fend for themselves.
“No…no…no! This is my place,” Erik shouted, watching a group of twelve heading his direction.
“There is a pistol behind the old service desk,” he muttered.