The guy has a screw loose, that’s what the rest of us think, but you have to make allowances for people these days. The way the world is now - people deal with it differently, that’s all, but he’s getting on everyone’s nerves all the same. It’s hard when someone doesn’t follow the routine, what with us all living on top of each other in such close quarters. I tell them to give the guy the benefit of the doubt - who knows what he went through before he made it to the shelter, or where his mind is at.
It was surprising he made it here at all, truth be told. I wasn’t on duty that morning, but the guys that were told me it was something to see, alright. The way he came running out of the misty dawn with the horde behind him - must have been a thousand zombies staggering after him; but he didn’t look worried, running with a steady pace, he looked like he could keep it going for hours. The Commander wasn’t pleased with that at all, leading such a large mob right to our gates, but the guards couldn’t just stand there and let the guy get torn apart and eaten right in front of them. So they called for me, then opened the gates and let him in.
He seemed okay, hardly even out of breath. We kept our guns on him, made him strip naked right there at the gate. He was even smiling as we checked him for bites or scratches - God knows why, if there had been even the slightest fresh wound on him that would have been game over right there, one bullet right between the eyes. We can’t let the infection get inside the complex.
But he was fine, not a mark on him. Beyond the barricades we could hear the moaning of the undead, much louder than usual what with the sudden rise in numbers outside. Were they disappointed? I don't know; nobody knows much about zombie physiology, buy I knew that sound would cause its own problems among the group later; that constant noise can drive you out of your mind if you let it. It never stops, either. I lowered my gun and walked up to him, taking in his appearance as he began to pull his clothes back on. He was well muscled and breathing easily despite the run he’d just made.
“Where you from, man?” I said. That little smile on his face was bothering me; there really isn’t much to smile about these days.
“Uh, I’m from New York, originally... If you mean where am I from this morning, I came from Baker’s camp. It's a pretty good run,” he said. That irked me some more. Jim Baker was Commander of the nearest neighbouring shelter. People don't move about outside if they can avoid it, so I knew this guy was unlikely to be bringing good news; yet here he was talking as if he'd just been for a morning jog around Central Park.
“Baker’s over ten miles away. You telling me you ran all that way? The whole area is crawling with those things,” I said. His annoying little smile became a grin.
“I keep myself in shape...,” he said.
We regarded each other for a moment.
“What happened?” I said.
“It's bad over there...,” he said. “The shelter was compromised, a couple of hours ago. I don't know what happened - maybe someone bugged out and left a door open, something like that? All I know is the place is overrun. I was lucky - I was already awake - I just made it out and then I ran here,” he said.
What could we do? The Commander let him stay, assigned him the usual camp duties. That's when he started to annoy people - the guy just doesn't pull his weight in the community and, truth be told, he's got one of those irksome personalities - that zealous, holier than thou type. He used to talk about little else - what he does to keep in shape, and why we should all join in with him. He even went so far as petitioning the Commander about bringing exercise bikes and other equipment back from one of our supply trips - can you imagine? Lugging a heavy piece of gym equipment while being pursued by a mob of reanimated corpses? Naturally, that one didn't go down well with the leadership.
We're all very tired. It doesn't help when you get woken at six by the guy wanting to see if anyone wants to join him in his morning workout. I can see the sense in it, really, but there are so many more important things to take care of. That's why people are getting pissed off.
It doesn't bother me, though - what worries me is that loose screw I mentioned. He's in good condition physically, sure. It's his mentality I worry about. Baker ran a tight ship, and the guy won't say any more about what happened over there. He says he doesn't know how the shelter was breached.
But I think he might be lying.