Leading the group after the elders had died, it was now over twelve years after the event. Zack hadn’t known any different, other than some vague childhood memories of the years before. All he knew was how to hunt and keep his group safe as they followed an old road littered with cars. These devices used to transport people in the old world, now in the new world, even shoes were a luxury.
Looking ahead he spotted them, the group who had murdered his father was making their way down the road. There was a settlement nearby where he knew they frequented to sell slaves. As they came closer he noticed the women in chains, helpless and tired, some bleeding from where the shackles met their flesh.
A quick nod was all his group needed, they hunted in packs daily and knew exactly what to do. Sneaking between the cars, they drew closer to the group. All of them approached one of the four men. At the howling battle-cry of Zack they sprang forward and buried their weapons deep in their enemies skulls. A terrifying scream of pain echoed through the air as one of their clubs missed a target and hit his right shoulder. The group quickly pounced on the man and clubbed him to death.
Stunned by the violence and pure exhaustion, the women barely spoke a word as their shackles were undone. They were given some water and a quick check over, before their long and arduous trek back home began. Zack knew they had to be fast, the screams of their enemies had surely alerted the walking spirits.