Evan raised his eyebrows incredulously at me while munching on his dinner.

"Seriously, go to the field behind the dugout and see it for yourself," I insisted.

Evan shuddered lightly and shook his head. "I'm not sticking a single toe outside that perimeter fence for anything short of an emergency."

He was not the only person who had zero desire to leave the safety of the fence. I could kind of see his point. There were always at least several zombies around the fence regardless of how often we lured them away. The quads had reduced their runs to conserve fuel, so it wasn't unusual to see a handful of zombies leaning against the chain-link fence in their desire to meet us.

It turned out that most people actually thought the Foragers and Raiders were crazy for spending most of the daylight hours outside of the fence. Admittedly, the Foragers and Raiders did have a lot more training sessions with zombies throughout the week than other groups, but zombie encounters were practically guaranteed in our line of work. While at a farm or on a raid, someone had to lure those things away, and we all took turns doing it.

"Truly and surely," I insisted, trying to convince him. "The group that is trying to capture a Swift is building an obstacle course to keep it entertained until they can get the animal trailer set up."

"An obstacle course as in jumps, fences, and other things?" Kailey didn't believe me any more than Evan did.

"Yes, a quad or dirt bike can quickly go around the obstacles, and with luck, the Swift will try to take the shortest route. It is being set up to channel it into the challenges. They get to watch what the creature is capable of and buy time for the others to get the transport trailer set up. We drove by it on our way back from picking strawberries."

Kailey shook her head. "Glad it isn't me out there doing that."

I nodded in agreement. "I can agree with that. Leading slow zombies off at a slow jog while picking fruit is one thing, but running from something that can run as fast as me is a whole different ball game."

Kailey glanced over at me as mischief twinkled in her eyes. "Did you hear that some people decided they didn't want to do some of the dirtier chores that were part of their work? The Commanders told them that if they didn't split the work fairly, then they would have to leave. About six decided to leave. All of them came back before dinner, terrified out of their minds with a crowd of zombies chasing them. They are now quite happy to do whatever chores we give them as long as they don't have to go outside of the fence again."

I shook my head at their actions. What kind of people were so lazy that they would rather leave than work for eight hours every day? Sure, some of the chores were dirty, like mucking out stalls or unplugging a clogged toilet, but those tasks were far preferable to trying to survive the night while zombies searched for a midnight snack.

Evan rolled his eyes. "Serves them right. You can see the zombies outside of the fence. I certainly don't need to walk out there to have a first-hand look. Too bad I didn't see that group return with their tails tucked between their legs. Hopefully, they learned their lesson."

Smirking in amusement, John said, "I somehow doubt they'll try that again. But on a different note, I was talking to my Group Leader today, and he mentioned that the first graduation ceremony is in a couple of weeks."

That caught our attention. A celebration would boost everyone's mood and morale. Such bright spots were hard to find in a rather grim situation like a zombie apocalypse. Everyone was looking forward to the graduation ceremony. We had already been told that it would be held at least once a month.

When a Group Leader deemed that someone in their group had learned enough about their profession and had enough experience, then they graduated. Our original white name tags in their shiny plastic holders showed that we were trainees in our positions and still learning. We would get a fancier metal name tag when we graduated.

The color of the name tag represented the various groups. Green for Foragers, blue for Guards, yellow for Cooks, pink for Nurses, grey for Raiders, and so on. Trainers and Group Leaders had a silver border around the edge. Those even higher up had more borders.

We named the colored ones "badges". In reality, they were similar to the name tags, but badges sounded cooler. They made it easy to tell who someone was and what they did at a glance. The name tags and badges were our ID. They were a declaration that we belonged to this Fort, the place that we had begun to call home. They also showed that we were a part of this group who had started to become our family.

We knew about some of the event's details, but the names of those graduating were being kept a secret. They had planned it so it would be a surprise every time. No one knew when they would be called up. That just added to the anticipation – and quite a few were getting excited.

The Group Leaders and a few people already had the colored badges that showed they were experienced in their profession. The badges showed people where our skills shone, and we always wore them.

Newcomers only made the mistake of coming out of their room without their name tag once. It usually only took them a few minutes to realize that everyone else was wearing theirs and that they stood out. It didn't help that the guards tended to stare at people without a name tag as if expecting them to get into trouble.

Talk turned to which additional training class we had after dinner.

       It had been a bit over a week since we had found the people from the Manitoba base, and they were fitting in quite well as they readily adapted to their new schedules in the Wainwright Fort. Much to everyone's disappointment, the zombies still showed no signs of disappearing any time soon. Other than one or two that had been beheaded, not a single one had been found dead.

Once more, I was on a bus heading out to collect supplies. I tried to nap in the back of the bus, along with several others. We had left at six in the morning – and I considered that far too early. Our group was accompanied by four other Forager groups, three Raider groups, and a handful of Guards as we headed to one of the largest farms in Alberta to see what we could scavenge.

A large raid was scheduled for today, and over two dozen school buses, some trucks, and a few vans drove down the highway to reach our distant destination. The school buses would act like enclosed trailers, and almost every vehicle was pulling an animal trailer of some sort. One truck pulled a trailer with a huge fuel tank since we would need to refuel the vehicles to make it back. Our destination was a four-hour drive – one way.

The livestock groups had mentioned that they wanted more dairy cattle and any other critters we could get our hands on. The more food we could grow or raise behind our newly-erected fences, the less we had to risk our necks for. All of the Building groups and anyone who even halfway knew how to build anything had been going full out for days in anticipation of this raid. We had more fencing, barns, and other needed things for the anticipated animals.

"Rise and shine. We are here."

More than a few groans met that announcement, but we all staggered to our feet as we tried to wake up. Napping in a moving bus was far from restful, and I felt like I had been constantly jolted out of my light doze.

The Group Leaders went ahead of us to check for survivors. They returned shortly, without having found anyone alive. Alex turned his head as he did a quick perimeter check before saying, "Zack, Diane, and Tony, can you please lure any zombies away?"

If there was anything guaranteed to wake me up, it was the thought of approaching a zombie... I took a deep breath and nodded before I started jogging towards one of the zombies that were already heading in our direction.

Zack and Tony went to find their own zombie to play follow-the-leader with. I kept my distance as I led the slow zombie down the road and through an open gate into a field fenced with barbed wire. I easily climbed over the wire and went back to see what else I could help with. The zombie wouldn't be able to get past the fence easily.

The Raiders were already carefully entering the buildings while Foragers investigated the fields and yards. Raiders on a raid wore very distinctive clothing; their leather clothing was thick and sported a light grey color, not to mention that they also had additional armor and guard plates that easily strapped on. They actually looked quite intimidating with their SWAT-like outfit.

But no one would ever consider asking them to not wear it; there was a good chance of them encountering a zombie, and their uniform provided some protection. Even if they were bitten, the heavy-duty leather usually did not tear, and the bearer was fairly safe if the zombie was beaten back in time.

All bite victims had to go through an eight-day stint in quarantine just in case. They spent that time doing a lot of small jobs in what looked like jail cells. They did have the option of going outside the perimeter fence during the day under close supervision as they helped Foragers, but they had to wear a helmet with a metal mesh face guard. If they turned, they would be unable to bite someone. So far, anyone who survived an attack without broken skin had not turned.

It was easy to tell our groups apart. The Raiders wore their grey leathers, the Guards had a blue uniform, and Foragers wore their golden-brown leather clothing. I had to admit that the leather protected us from scratches and scrapes better than blue jeans and cotton shirts had. The supply officers had given each person at least four sets of our now familiar outfits.

I wiped the sweat off my forehead as I dumped the last protesting duck into a travelling poultry crate. "That's the last one."

People claimed that chickens were dumb, but chickens seemed to know that humans bring them food and were usually pretty easy to catch. Ducks, on the other hand, didn't like being within arms reach of people. It had not been fun catching these feathery escape artists, even if these ones simply ran around without trying to fly. Those big feet could hit some impressive speeds.

One of the Raiders picked up the crate of ducks and grinned at me. "Just think, you can get revenge on one of the drakes tomorrow at dinner."

I laughed and stretched. A movement made me glance over. I said, "We have company."

I continued to stretch out the kinks in my back without too much concern. The zombie was only halfway down the long driveway, so I was in no rush. It would take it at least several minutes to get here at its current speed.

This zombie looked like it had seen better days. It was missing an ear, an eye, and its right arm had been severed at the elbow. Its tattered clothing was liberally stained with the dark red of old, dried blood. From the way it walked, it had likely suffered some severe damage to its spine and ribs. It was too bad that breaking the spine didn't render zombies immobile like it did humans.

A younger Raider looked at it in disgust. "I don't get it," he said. "Why don't we just kill the stinking things so we are no longer at risk?"

He looked quite young, and I guessed that he was only about fifteen years old. I had no idea who let him join a raid this far from the Fort, especially with notions like that, but judging from the older Raider's face, he was not amused.

The older Raider looked down at him with a frown. "And just how do you plan to kill a zombie?"

The teenage boy looked up. "An axe does wonders. Uncle Max killed one with an axe."

The older Raider snorted, unimpressed. "Hollywood may have made it look like severing a head from a spine was as easy as cutting through a pretzel and spaghetti noodles, but they were very, very wrong. The neck flexes and absorbs most of the blow. If you don't get a clean cut, that zombie is not going to stop. If you are close enough to swing an axe, then you are more or less within arm's reach. When we get back, go ask one of the butchers for a bone from a goat's leg. Hang it from a ceiling with a piece of rope. The day you can cut that bone in two in just one swing, come find me."

The teen had flushed a bright red, then he surprised me when he quietly offered, "Uh, I can go lead it away if you want." It looked like the dressing-down was a cause for embarrassment and repentance.

The only reply he received was, "Take your brother with you." The teen ducked his head and trotted off to find said brother.

I blinked at that analogy. That wasn't quite right. I caught a glimpse of the teen's name tag as he passed, and it read, "Thomas - Trainee". Trainee? I had never seen the term Trainee listed as a position before.

The older raider spoke to me, "Sorry about that. He is far too full of himself and is convinced he can take on the world."

I could see the family resemblance now that I looked. He would likely be the father with that age gap. I just had to ask, "I have never seen the position 'Trainee' before. What exactly is it?"

He gave me a weak smile. "They use it when someone is too young to truly hold a position, but want some training beforehand. I didn't think he was quite ready to join even a low-risk raid like this, but he promised to behave. He apparently needs a few more lessons before he follows me again. The only reason I let him come was due to the number of people and Guards present." With that, he hefted those annoying ducks and walked off.

The teen must have been too young to join the attack sessions in the zombie training classes. We had practiced various moves on dummies and props as we pretended to kill a zombie. Admittedly, severing the neck was hard but not quite as hard as he made it out to be.

The father was right about one thing though. Most weapons that allowed a good strike also put you in arm's reach and, even worse, in the way of the deadly blood splatter. It wasn't quite like hitting a hanging bone, it was more like hitting a thumb wide willow tree. Yes, it would flex away but there was resistance.

That being said, a good length of pipe could break a leg and slow down the zombie somewhat. That was handier and more reliable if you needed a speedy getaway. It wouldn't permanently injure the zombie though; the leg would straighten and become rigid within a couple of weeks. They could walk again, but were somewhat stilted.

Those things just refused to lay down and accept the fact that they were dead...

       It had been a long day. I stretched, trying to keep my muscles from stiffening up too much. It was now 8:30 pm, and we were still ten minutes away from the Fort. Sitting for four hours after a long day was not fun since stiffness and exhaustion were setting in with a vengeance.

We had quite the haul though. In the end, in order to get most of the good stuff back, we hotwired a couple of extra trucks and hitched them up to some huge trailers that had been parked behind a garage. The farm's feeding systems had all been gravity-fed from huge storage containers, and all of the animals still had food and water. If you were to name a farm animal from the Old MacDonald's Farm song, it was at that farm – and it had a lot of friends.

This farm had fancy grain trailers that could hook together, and a couple of our biggest trucks were even pulling two of the railcar-sized trailers at once. They travelled near the back since they took a long time to accelerate and slow down. We would probably make another trip back before winter just to get more grain since there had been five grain towers on that site – more than enough to feed the people back at the Fort for months with plenty left over for the animals.

The bus suddenly slowed down. I was in the back and sat up as I started craning my head to peer out the front window. We weren't at the perimeter fence yet, so I wasn't sure why we were slowing down. The driver seemed stunned at whatever caught his attention. "Shit," he muttered. "They better not bring that inside the fence."

The other drivers must have been just as startled since they had also slowed down. Then I saw it and felt my own eyes go wide. It was a zombie, but it was moving far too quickly and with too much coordination. It was inside the obstacle course attempting to chase someone on a dirt bike. A Swift. The hair on the back of my neck rose, and I got goosebumps just watching the thing.

The driver's walkie talkie suddenly crackled into life. "Keep moving, lest these loud trucks distract that thing. We can ask questions later. Let's get inside the fence and get these critters unloaded before we have any cases of dehydration."

On that note, we continued to drive slowly so we didn't attract unwanted attention. I sure didn't want that zombie attempting to get into the bus I was on. It was probably strong enough to shatter the windows with a few blows.

The livestock groups, supply groups, and numerous volunteers were waiting for us at the Fort. It still took us over an hour to unload just the animals, even with all the help. One of the organizers held a megaphone up. "Good work. Let's finish up with the animals, and we can call it quits. The dry goods can wait until the morning."

That was the best idea I had heard all day. It had been a while since I had been this tired, and I was practically ready to drop at this point. The mess hall was abandoned at this odd hour with the exception of the groups who had been out on the raid. We ate before heading out to our respective areas and rooms. I grabbed a shower and felt better for being clean.

I decided to skip track again since it was already past the time I usually ran, and I had gotten more than enough exercise today. When I reached my room, I discovered that both Kailey and Evan were waiting for me.

Kailey was talking at light speed, her rapid speech reflecting her nerves and excitement. "Did you see the Swift on your way back? One of the Raiding groups heading south stumbled across it and led it back to the obstacle course!"

Evan chimed in. "One truck sped ahead to alert the groups who were in charge, so they could get ready by the time it arrived."

Kailey was quick to pick up the story that she was so eager to tell. "They ran it around the obstacle course about a dozen times to gather data which, from what I hear, the instructors and zombie session trainers are still analyzing. They eventually managed to lure it into an animal trailer and trap it inside!"

Evan continued while Kailey practically bounced beside him. "They are going to keep it in that barn in the field to the east. They made a large cage with reinforced steel inside, and a second cage around that one as well. So it ought to hold up to anything the Swift can dish out. Both have ceilings so it can't climb out. They promised to weld the doors shut and chain them shut as well, although how they plan to do that when the Swift is inside is beyond me. It should already be in there and fully secured, or else we would have heard about it by now."

I felt better knowing that it was locked up. My exhausted mind simply couldn't think of anything to say, and we all looked at one another in silence for a few moments. I covered my mouth as I yawned, and Evan followed suit with a yawn of his own.

He rubbed his neck and admitted, "Well, I'm bushed, and you must be too. I am sure we will hear more about that Swift tomorrow."

My eyes drifted longingly towards my bed as I nodded in agreement. A fifteen-hour workday full of physical activity had left me with no energy. My schedule tomorrow was light since we had worked so hard today.

We would be going fishing in the morning, and the afternoon had been cleared away for us to rest a bit. Our Group Leaders were awesome that way. It also gave us a chance to catch up on any training sessions we missed.

Evan left, heading back to his own room. Kailey and I wasted no time heading to bed. I was asleep within seconds of my head hitting my pillow.

       People were edgy the next morning. Even those who normally thought nothing of going outside of the fence when five or six zombies were present were jumpy. They all knew about the Swift, and if a regular zombie was hard to kill, Swifts were ten times worse. They lacked all of the vulnerabilities that the regular zombies had. We had no advantage over Swifts.

We did not hear much news about it today, other than reassurance that the door was literally welded shut to the point where they would have to dismantle half of the cage for it to get out. A handful of assigned people were in the barn with it, still hoping to discover a weakness.

During the dinner announcements, we were informed that groups who normally left the fence would be having a mandatory observation session in the barn with the Swift. Anyone else was welcome to join us as well.

It came as no surprise that only two or three out of over a thousand people actually wanted to see it. One Swift had already destroyed an entire base overnight. The people here had lived this long by being cautious and avoiding danger. Going to see the most dangerous type of zombie did not fit into either category.

My group was scheduled to go tomorrow morning. Just my luck.

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Just a gentle reminder for re-readers that Common Courtesy on Wattpad, when posting spoilers, is to create a new thread and title it "RR spoilers inside", then reply to that comment. This way first-time readers know to avoid it if they don't want spoilers.