World War Z
Manhattan, New York
[During the war this place was heavily infested numbering in the hundred millions, the bulk of New York. I am here today with Billy McBillard, a farmer that was drafted into the war as a scout. I sit with him now in a Starbucks. He doesn't seem very fond of the coffee.]
The night was pitch black, the moon barely visible, I was in a scouting unit whose job was to check ahead of the infantry and report any sightings. In front of the front lines was us, miles ahead of the rest of the troops to lure Zack into our little trap. It was a person's worse nightmare, people try to keep their presence silent and minimal so that Zack won't detect them and here we are, making as much noise as possible to lure Zack to us!
[He takes a sip from his coffee.]
Now, we didn't go alone or anything, we were in groups of three, one to drive, one to secure the turret, and one to make the noise. I was the latter, and Jesus Christ that wasn't fun. I carried things from amps to freaking grenades. If a grenade wasn't going to catch the attention of Zack, then the goddamn high pitched noise magnified through the amp would. It wasn't a pretty sight. they would come by the droves and I was right there, bait on a platter. After enough we would bail back to camp and get ready for the oncoming slot as part of the infantry. Now don't get me wrong or anything, but these foot soldiers have it easy. They simply have to wait in their cozy little camps while we go out and bring the insuring horde. It wasn't completely safe you see. One time another group was going around getting Zack's attention and out of nowhere they hit a mine and they lopsided off their vehicle. We couldn't save them in time. That was the last time I went into the field hastily.
I'm happy that's as far as we went, compared to the rescue teams.
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