<p>&nbsp;</p><p>Sitting quietly alone on the roof of his family&rsquo;s new home his scoped 308 leaned against the half wall in front of him. He has 2 .45 caliber semi-automatic pistols, one on each thigh. His jeans are dirty and beginning to tare, his shirt soaked in 3 days of sweat and he hasn&rsquo;t slept in just over a week. He is worn and tired. He knows his family and new friends are sitting just below him scared counting on him to get out of this warehouse and survive this, whatever this is, but his eyes keep coming back to this sea of snappers below him and the bright glow of what used to be Oklahoma City burning in the distance. The dead remains of what once was the human species. It&rsquo;s like a bad dream or even a b movie. The military crumbled at the stress of fighting the dead but not before it had destroyed the city in an attempt to contain this event.</p><p>&ldquo;How did this happen?&rdquo; He says just loud enough for his ears to pick up the sound. He begins to remember just a week before he was waking up in his bed to his kids jumping on him and trying to get him to come down stairs for his birthday breakfast.</p><p>Suddenly a military 7 ton pulls up beside the ware house. &ldquo;Need some help?&rdquo; A familiar voice comes from the back of the vehicle. &ldquo;Daemon is that you?&rdquo; Sam yells back to the voice in the 7 tons bed.</p>