Apocalyptic: Let the Games Begin {R/M}

Sam tipped his hat off his head, snoozing but not quite asleep. No one had made any noises, or warned of an attack. So he thought he would just sleep it off. Extending his legs to the rail of the second-story patio, he cracked open his right eye. He was on a flimsy green lawn chair; he was surprised it could even hold his weight. As his eyes squinted to the bright morning light, he saw something approaching the house he was in. He jumped forward, straightening up as he grabbed his rifle that was leaning up against the railing. The lawn chair buckled underneath him, finally broken.
It only took him seconds to align his shots as he aimed for the head. He saw a few more, but didn't worry over them. Unless the guards were more tired then he was, they would see it. He put weight on the trigger, steadying his breath to get a more accurate shot. He could hear rustling, probably from the porch below. He pulled the trigger, tightening his grip as his rifle recoiled. The already bloody-zombie tumbled, it's legs becoming wobbly. Then it feel face first. It twitched for a bit. He kept his aim on it's head, ready for another shot. He heard bullets from below and noticed that the remaining zombies had almost reached the crooked fence they hastily built. Making sure they could hear him laugh, he leaned on the metal railing and watched them shoot at the zombies. Sure there could always be the trouble of them actually knocking down the fence, but he wouldn't be in too much danger.

A man cursed below him, while two more guns fired. The remaining zombies went down after that. "Sam!!" Someone screamed his name from below, and he turned around. The old man's footsteps could be heard from his spot. "What the hell was that!?" The man yelled at him, walking through the screen door. He had bashed the glass on that thing long before they cared about zombies coming in the night. "Raise the alarm next time before you make them shit their pants!" The man turned and walked away, already knowing how he dealt with being scolded. He had turned his back to the man, and slowly whistled. Straightening his back he yawned loudly. The zombies had almost pushed down the shitty fence they built, but it needed to be fixed anyway. "Well now we had to redo a post." He answered out loud. His thick boots were surprisingly loud on the cheap tile that was on the floors. It was supposed to be fall in a few days, but it felt about 90 degrees Fahrenheit. As he quickly jumped down the stairs, he jogged out the front door. Somebody cursed after him, and he turned his head around, but kept walking. "If you sleep you at least gotta hear a gunshot." He exclaimed as he made his way from the house, walking about 40 feet until he stopped to pick up one of the wooden posts. He turned around to see if anyone was going to help him, rolling his eyes as they didn't move.

Later that evening a heavy truck came to pick them up, driving down one of the more populated highways. And by populated, it meant less cars on the road and no human zombies. He did see one of those hell hounds sniffing through the cars. He didn't like to look at them as they passed by, and if the dog was hungry enough, they tried to keep up with the speeding vehicle. His face was pressed against the window, as was his body. They had already loaded up the back of the truck with as many men as they could. They were sweaty, smelly, and were armed to the teeth. He didn't like the fact that he pissed off many of the boys in the back, so he just sat by the window seat. He was debating if where he was now was better then the back. He had AC at least, but then got a whiff of the guy next to him. At least they put the correct number of people in the car. He occasionally brushed legs with the dude next to him. He pressed himself as much as he could to the door, watching as they passed some of those dogs. He stared as a huge pack of them were brutally ripping the flesh. He thought that it looked like the chest of a human. He sighed as he looked for something else to watch. He looked at the woods beyond the highway, it reminding him that they still had plenty of a ways to go. He'd never really been to a really suburban place before, mostly sticking to the rural side. He narrowed his eyes as he thought he saw a tall bear in the woods, standing on it's hind legs. His muscles ached, but they were recovering from the work he did.

A few hours later they had made it to a check-point, and he stared at the buildings, numb. He had to be careful when he road to a car, and he knew that looking at things outside his windows was going to make him nauseous. He kept on anyway, causing him to roll down the window to throw up down the side of the car. As he miserably rolled his head, the car came to a stop. He looked around and saw what looked like a littered street. Jumping out quickly, the men on the back jumped off. He slung the rifle over his shoulder and leaned on the car, taking in his surroundings. It was cooling off, but he was still sweaty. The ride had taken up most of the day, he noticed. He wiped his forehead with his hand as he could hear a man talking, though the words passed through him. There was a shady looking house in front of the truck, and he saw people spreading out. He had no idea what to do, but instead of asking anything, he just went towards the house. Jogging, he tried to open one of the side doors, but it felt blocked. Backing up a few spaces, he rammed into it with his shoulder.
Something feel on the ground with a loud thump. Someone cursed, and the blockage wasn't there anymore. Opening it, he found himself looking at a guy shuffling around. The man was surprised, but didn't say anything. Looking around the hallway, he heard a sound coming from below. "I have no idea what I'm doing." He muttered to himself, while he could see these men taking a girl down. "Hey you!" One of them called to him, pretty much dragging the girl by her ankles. "Take her down into the basement." He put one of her shoulders on his elbows, and he gritted his teeth. He picked the girl off the floor and into his arms as he carefully walked down the dark stairway. He could feel the difference in temperature on his skin. He also noticed how the girl felt under his hands, and against his chest. Laying on the table, a smile appeared on his lips as he thought of how isolated they were. His crotch rubbed up against her as he leaned forward to grip her wrists. He was surprised when he found that the girl was conscious. He let her flip around to face him, knowing that the dim light allowed her to see his face. He had got up on the table and put her knee on her knees, pressing down with most of his weight. He stared into her eyes, looking for an expression. He ignored how her face was empty as she spoke, and pulled her arms over her head, leaving his one hand frozen on her belt.