jimdattilo

Games by JimD Newsletter – Game Updates, Crossover

Welcome to my 98th newsletter! Welcome to my new patrons, and thank you for following the progress on my games.

Happy Holidays to everyone! This is a great time of year, as I take 10 days off from my normal job, which gives me some time to take a break and dedicate myself to writing.

I have been working on Stronghold almost exclusively so far this month, while preparing for next year and starting the free update for Safe Haven. I have also been using this time to plan out next year’s submission schedule. I would really like to submit Stronghold for publication sometime in the summer, so it could possibly be released by the end of next year. That would give me two games released in 2026.

In this newsletter, I will review my development plans, as I do every month. Let's get started.

Zombie Exodus: Safe Haven, Part 4

Part 4 is 1,020,000 words. I am still working with several beta testers as I wait for the copyeditor to provide the updated files. I should be receiving everything back in mid-January, which gives me a few weeks to make updates, add some final content, and playtest a few more times to ensure everything is working well. The expected release date remains February 5, 2026.

I have released numerous stories over the past twelve years of writing these types of games, and I have come to realize that bugs will inevitably slip through the cracks in the published game. I typically use the first month or two to put emergency patches through the pipeline. Unlike traditional books that you might purchase in a bookstore, my games have the advantage of being digital, allowing for updates in close to real-time. If I push through a hotfix, it usually gets released within two days. Remember, we have five different platforms for release, and each has its own specific requirements.

I’m not hoping for bugs to happen after release, but I’d be naïve to think the game will be perfect. However, I will do my best to get things fixed quickly.

Zombie Exodus: Stronghold

Stronghold is up to 193,000 words, which is 30,000 words more than last month. I’m currently writing chapter 8, which is already huge at 14,000 words and will likely be one of the largest chapters. It’s almost three chapters in one, as it provides a branching narrative with three different paths to accomplish the same goal. As you probably know, I love games with replay value, and you’re going to want to try this chapter a few times.

During the testing phase, I have provided a table of contents, allowing you to skip to any chapter you want. I like this way of presenting the story, as it allows you to revisit any part of the narrative. Would you like to see this included in the final release, or do you think it should be removed? Please note that I will continue to provide checkpoints once the game goes live.

Next month, I will complete chapter 8 and attempt to finish up to chapter 10.

When I originally wrote this story for StoryLoom, each chapter was roughly 10,000 words. However, when I reached chapter 14, StoryLoom requested that I release shorter chapters. Although I have already written twenty-five chapters, the last ten are relatively short. Therefore, it should be much faster to convert them to ChoiceScript. Even with all the new content I’m adding, I believe I can finish the story by April, 2026 and submit for publication.

Safe Haven and Stronghold Crossover

As I mentioned in the last newsletter, I’m going to write a crossover between Zombie Exodus: Safe Haven and Zombie Exodus: Stronghold. Because Stronghold takes place one year after the outbreak began, the timelines line up in a way that makes this completely possible. Survivors from Safe Haven’s early days could realistically cross paths with the Stronghold cast.

The following poll lets you vote on the character that will crossover between the two games. Every active patron will get a vote. Future polls will provide choices for how the person is involved in the story in Stronghold.

https://www.patreon.com/posts/safe-haven-and-146303598

Safe Haven and Stronghold Crossover Poll

As I reported last month, I am going to make a crossover between Zombie Exodus: Safe Haven and Zombie Exodus: Stronghold. As a reminder, Stronghold takes place one year after the outbreak. The crossover will involve at least one character who will make an appearance in Stronghold.

Vote below for who you think would make an interesting character to appear, in some way, in Stronghold. For some of these people, it may make sense for it to be a radio communication, a message sent through the existing Internet or SurvNet, or even in person.

MC POV - Interactive Story - 21

Continued from scene 20

You ease the truck to a stop behind a patch of tangled brush, engine idling low. Through the windshield, you watch the barricade and the houses flanking the road. The evening light has faded gray.

A few minutes pass before you see movement. Two figures step out from between the shadowed houses, shuffling toward the roadblock with weapons hanging at their sides. The first is a man in his forties, who’s tall but slouched with a length of white cloth wrapped tight around his upper arm, stained dark with old blood. He limps heavily, dragging his right leg, and keeps glancing behind him as if expecting trouble. The second figure, a younger woman, clutches a rifle close to her chest. She wears a battered denim jacket, one sleeve torn away to reveal a bandage crossing her wrist. Blood has soaked through, turning the gauze rusty brown. Her face is pale and drawn, lips pressed into a thin line as she scans the road.

Both move slowly towards the barricade. They pause and look up and down the road. The man leans on the car door for support, while the woman keeps watch.

Jessica leans closer to the window. “They look rough. Those wounds look fresh.”

Ryan sits up straighter in the back seat, watching the pair.

You keep your hands steady on the wheel, studying the two.

MC POV - Interactive Story Poll

Are you guys enjoying the interactive story involving Elijah?

Since we have reached twenty posts, I'm wondering if we should continue or switch gears.

Kevin Draft

This is a sketch of the artwork I commissioned for Kevin, who you meet in chapter 8 in the junkyard.

Please let me know your thoughts and any suggestions on what could change.

Description: Kevin has short, messy hair, and is wearing a T-shirt with a bleeding heart pierced by a dagger on the chest and loose jeans.

Writing Updates

Happy Holidays to everyone!

So far this month, I have been working hard on Zombie Exodus: Stronghold and making significant progress. I will be releasing an updated demo (beta) this month, on December 24, for my patrons, and also releasing the first six chapters publicly for testing. Patrons will get at least an extra 30,000 words of progress, which will include the introduction of a new character and the first major “boss” fight. Without giving away spoilers, it’s a massive showdown that can occur at one of three different places in the fortress. You get to decide where it happens.

That brings us to a new feature I’ll be introducing: Stronghold difficulty levels. If you are using Gamemaster Mode, which displays hints about Skill checks and stat changes, you will now see difficulty levels on some major choices. This will provide you with a measure of the risks and rewards for following that path. For the first one I have coded, you will see something that looks like this:

• First path: [Easy, Reward: 1 Skill Points]

• Second path: [Difficulty: Moderate, Reward: 2 Skill Points]

• Third path: [Difficulty: Hard, Reward: 4 Skill Points]

Whether or not you see difficulty levels and rewards, you will still be given narrative information to help inform your decision. These will not be blind paths to follow. It’s not a matter of choosing left or right, but the story will provide enough details to allow you to make the best decision for your character.

You will also notice that different paths reward you with bonus skill points. This is the first game where I have instituted such a mechanic. You can probably guess that the third path, the most challenging one, will present a much more difficult scenario. You may not survive the path, and I will not provide a safe point before the choice.

If you would like to take a look at the actual choice, I am providing it to patrons as a sneak peek.

ZE: Stronghold Sneak Peek

Here is a scene that takes place chapter 8 when you are trying to determine where to confront a major new enemy. This is the first time I am instituting a new future that displays the difficulty level and rewards for choosing different paths.

The options in the choice are showing you what it would look like if you have Gamemaster Mode on.

Aldor sets a pot into a sink filled with soapy water, beginning to scrub it clean. "What if we go for a wide-open spot? Like, we took a park where there's no hiding for them? Maybe somewhere close to the Zone 1 entrance, where the ${zombie}s are."

"That's brilliant!" Mari chimes in. "We could arrange the exchange at the amphitheater. It's right out there in the open, near the bridge. Mendoza won't have the upper hand with all the zombies running around."

Julian glances around. “So, who’s going to ensure our safety from the infected swarm?” He spots the looks from the others and holds up both hands. “Hey, I'm thinking out loud. That’s all.”

Alex snaps his fingers. "We could do it here." Everyone turns to look at him, shock showing on their faces. "It sounds crazy but we can say that ${firstname} is starting to turn and can't move. We can set this place up with traps and get into position."

Jasmine rubs the back of her neck. "You are asking Mari to give up her apartment. They will destroy the place."

Mari shrugs. "If Stronghold falls, what difference does it make?"

Harmony stands and slams the palm of her hand against the wall. "Screw them! Let's take the fight to them. We go in, guns blazing, and take Siena back."

Julian rubs his chin. "It's not the most terrible idea. They already think they have the upper hand. When that occurs, it makes them lax. They may not expect us to attack."

Everyone turns to you, looking for your decision…

Zombie Exodus: Stronghold Content Question

I am writing the first "Boss Fight" in Stronghold. Players will have to decide where to face him: an Amphitheater, an ally's apartment, or a security bunker. Each choice has its own difficulty level and rewards, and the consequences shape the story in significant ways.

I am deciding whether to reveal the difficulty rating of each path before the player commits. Some players enjoy blind immersion and want to discover danger through gameplay. Others prefer transparency so they can make strategic decisions.

Since the game also offers Gamemaster Mode, which already reveals stat checks and skill gains and losses, I could tie difficulty visibility to that mode. Turning Gamemaster Mode on could show path difficulty. Turning it off could preserve immersion.

How should the game handle revealing the difficulty of each path?

Elsie from ZEXSH

The image shows Elsie with long dark hair in two braids, a black sleeveless vest, and blue jeans, showing a tattoo of a snake and flowers on her arm while holding a crossbow.

MC POV - Interactive Story - 20

Continued from scene 19

You turn off at the next exit, guiding the Ford F-150 onto a narrow two-lane road that runs parallel to the interstate. The blacktop is cracked in places, and weeds press up along the shoulders. The highway traffic fades behind you.

Jessica glances at the map on her phone, her brow furrowed as she checks for any sign of roadblocks ahead. Ryan slumps in the back seat, still glued to his phone. No one speaks for a while.

You drive slowly around a bend in the back road, headlights sweeping over piles of wreckage stacked across the asphalt. A makeshift roadblock stretches from ditch to ditch, built from abandoned cars, broken furniture, and snapped tree limbs. Orange hazard cones lean against rusted bumpers, and a cracked folding table sits beside an old cooler, both half-buried in leaves.

You spot a battered “STOP” sign propped up with cinderblocks, painted over with warnings in red spray paint. The words are hard to read from here. Scattered clothing, empty water bottles, and a ripped child’s backpack litter the ground near the barricade.

Jessica leans forward, scanning the treeline. "This looks recent. Someone could be watching."

The roadblock blocks the main way forward. It is hard to determine whether it was intended to keep the infected out or keep people in.

Continue to scene 21

Outbreak Scenario 29

You find a gas station with a working generator. Inside, a lone man in a stained clerk’s uniform has set up a small radio, broadcasting emergency routes from a list of government frequencies. His name is Marcus Willow. He is in his early 40s.

Marcus tells you he was a volunteer radio operator for the county search and rescue team before the collapse. He stayed behind when the police evacuated. Before the lines went dead, he picked up a broken message from a relay tower. Since then, he has been broadcasting updates every hour, hoping someone listens.

He says he has not heard another human voice in twelve hours and begs you to stay to help keep the signal alive.

When you look inside his office, you see stacks of supplies: food, first-aid, and other equipment.

Schedule for December, 2025

Happy Holiday! If you haven't checked out my latest newsletter, it is now open to every member.

12/3 -- Outbreak scenario poll (Free tier)

12/4 -- Zombie Exodus: Side Stories (MC POV) scene 21. ($3+ tiers)

12/6 -- Content Sneak Peek ($3+ tiers)

12/9 -- Game updates (Free tier)

12/12 -- Content Sneak Peek ($1+ tiers)

12/16 -- Zombie Exodus: Side Stories (MC POV) scene 22. ($3+ tiers)

12/18 -- Character or Content Poll ($10+ tiers)

12/20 -- Newsletter. ($1+ tiers)

12/22 -- Content Sneak Peek ($3+ tiers)

12/24 -- Zombie Exodus: Stronghold Test ($5+ tiers)

12/27 -- Content poll (free tier)

12/29 -- New Original Story. ($10+ tiers)

ZE Outbreak Novel, Chapter 9

continued from chapter 8

En route to Bryn Mawr, 8:50 PM, Wednesday, May 9, 2012

The brake lights stretched out like a red snake coiling through the dark, each pair of taillights with another set of vertebrae in a spine that wasn't moving fast enough. I could see the checkpoint from at least three blocks back, the portable floodlights they'd set up turning the intersection into something that looked like a prison yard at midnight. I was squeezing the steering wheel so tightly that the leather was squeaking. Amber reached over and rubbed my shoulder, probably to ground.

I reached across the console and popped open the glove box, digging past the owner's manual and a tangle of charging cables until my fingers found the worn leather of my old military ID holder. The thing was beat to hell, edges soft from years of being shoved in and out of pockets, the Army star embossed on the front faded to almost nothing. I flipped it open and stared at the photo inside. A younger version of myself stared back with a high-and-tight haircut and the kind of blank expression they teach you to wear for official photos. The plastic covering had started to peel at one corner, and I smoothed it down with my thumb before setting the whole thing on the console between us, where I could grab it fast when we got to the front of the line.

"We're going to be fine," I said, not sure if I was talking to Amber or myself. My eyes glanced over at her and then back at the slow crawl of cars ahead as we inched forward another few feet. "I've got my military ID, and most of these National Guard kids are going to see that and wave us through. They're looking for infected or people who are obviously sick or bleeding, not a couple of civilians who know how to keep their mouths shut and follow instructions."

Amber's fingers had been drumming a quick tap-tap-tap on her thigh for the last five and it was starting to annoy me. I didn't say anything because I knew she was trying to hold it together, and pointing out her tells would only make it worse. She turned in her seat to look behind us, craning her neck to see past the headlights of the sedan that had pulled up tight on our bumper, and when she faced forward again, her jaw was set in a way that told me she'd already figured out what I was about to say.

"There's no way to turn around," she said, almost like she didn't want to admit it out loud. "We're boxed in. Cars behind us, cars in front, and those concrete barriers running down both sides of the street."

I'd noticed the barriers as soon as we'd turned onto the highway. These were the kind of heavy Jersey barriers they use for highway construction. Each one probably weighed a few thousand pounds and were set so close together that even a motorcycle would have trouble squeezing through the gaps. They'd lined them up on both sides of the road to create a single-lane chute that funneled everyone toward the checkpoint. It was a smart tactical move, but it also meant we were now committed, whether I liked it or not.

The Humvees sat at angles across the intersection ahead, their bulk blocking off the rest of the highway, and even from this distance I could make out the shapes of soldiers moving between the vehicles, flashlights cutting through the dark as they worked their way down the line of waiting cars. Most of them looked young and were probably barely out of basic training. I could see the way some of them held their rifles, with their hands too tight on the grips and shoulders hunched up near their ears like they were expecting someone to take a shot at them any second. The National Guard pulled many part-time weekend warriors who had regular jobs during the week and did their service one weekend a month. I'd bet most of these kids had never expected to end up manning checkpoints in their own cities.

The line crept forward another car length, and that's when I heard the shouting. At first it was just raised voices and the kind of back-and-forth you'd expect at any checkpoint where tensions were running high. Within seconds, it escalated into something sharper and angrier. Three cars ahead of us, a beat-up Nissan sedan had stopped at the checkpoint, and I could see a man in the driver's seat gesturing wildly through his open window, his arm swinging out as he pointed at something beyond the barricade.

Two soldiers stood at his door, both young, maybe early twenties, and even from where I sat, I could read the tension in their postures, the way they'd shifted their weight onto the balls of their feet and adjusted their grips on their rifles. The driver was still yelling, his voice carrying over the sounds of the checkpoint, and while I couldn't make out every word, I caught enough to understand he was demanding to be let through, insisting he had family on the other side who needed him, that he had a right to pass.

"This is going to go bad," I said quietly, though Amber heard it, and my hand moved automatically to rest on my lap near where my Glock sat concealed under my jacket.

Here we had young soldiers, likely with itchy trigger fingers, thinking that one bite is going to put them in the morgue. Why the hell was this guy arguing with them?

One of the soldiers leaned in closer to the driver's window, his rifle held across his chest in what was supposed to be a non-threatening ready position, but came across as anything but. The driver yelled something at him, not that it was too garbled for me to hear. The driver yelled something like “stand down”, and it sure as hell didn’t didn't calm the driver down. If anything, it made him angrier, because he threw his door open so hard it bounced back on its hinges, forcing the soldier to stumble backward to avoid getting hit. The driver was out of the car, all six feet and change of him, built like someone who worked construction or lifted heavy things for a living.

"You can't keep me here!" the driver shouted, and this time his voice carried clear across the checkpoint, loud enough that it cut through every other sound and made everyone within earshot go quiet and still. "My wife is out there, my kids are out there, and you're telling me I can't go get them?"

The soldier who'd nearly been hit by the door recovered his balance and brought his rifle up to a proper ready position, muzzle pointed at the ground but clearly visible. It was a warning that things could escalate further if the driver didn't back down. This is what we were taught at Fort Sam Houston in Texas. His partner moved to flank the driver from the other side, and within seconds, two more soldiers had materialized from between the Humvees, all of them converging on the Nissan with their weapons at low ready and their faces set in hard, professional masks that didn't quite hide the fear underneath. The driver was erratic and hot, and these guys were not having it for a second.

"Sir, I need you to get back in your vehicle," the first soldier said, his voice cracking slightly on the last word. He couldn’t be more than twenty-five years old. "We have our orders, and nobody gets through this checkpoint without proper authorization. If you have family beyond the perimeter, there are procedures in place to verify their location and arrange for supervised contact, but you can't just drive through."

The driver took a step toward the soldier, and I saw the kid's finger move from the trigger guard to rest on the actual trigger. I knew exactly what it meant. This was a kid who'd been trained to shoot if he felt threatened, and right now, some angry civilian, who resembled Bigfoot’s cousin, was closing distance on him while refusing to follow orders. The gap between this situation and live rounds in the air was getting thinner by the second.

“Not good, not good,” Amber said as she sank down in the passenger seat, like bullets wouldn’t go through the windshield.

"Procedures?" the driver spat, and there was something wild in his voice now, something beyond anger, beyond reason. It was the sound of a man who'd been pushed too far and didn't have anything left to lose. "You're talking about procedures while my family could be dying? Fuck your procedures, fuck your orders. I'm going through."

He started to move toward the gap between two Humvees, and three soldiers immediately stepped into his path, rifles coming up to point directly at his center mass, and I heard one of them yell "Freeze!" in a voice that cracked halfway through the word. The driver stopped, his hands out at his sides, but he didn't back down. He didn't retreat to his vehicle. Instead, he stood there in the harsh glare of the floodlights, his chest heaving.

Fear and I had never been on speaking terms, but even I recognized that staring down the muzzles of four M16s held by kids with authorization to shoot would make any rational person's bladder want to give up.

For a few seconds, nobody moved. The whole checkpoint had gone silent, every engine idling, every conversation stopped, and everyone watching to see how this would resolve. I found myself holding my breath, my hand now fully on my Glock under my jacket, thumb on the safety, even though I had no intention of pulling it unless this situation went completely sideways and somehow involved us directly. That Glock could have been me playing with stress balls.

Then someone in the Nissan's passenger seat threw open their door.

It happened fast, too fast for the soldiers to react, and a woman emerged from the car in a stumbling rush, her face streaked with tears and her hair wild around her shoulders. She couldn't have been more than thirty, wearing jeans and a sweatshirt that had a Penn State logo across the front, and the moment her feet hit the pavement, she was moving, not toward the soldiers but past them, trying to reach the gap between the Humvees that her husband or boyfriend or whoever the driver was had been aiming for.

"Let us through!" she screamed, and her voice was raw with desperation, cracking on every syllable. "Please, just let us through. We have to get to our daughter! She's only eight years old, and she's with my mother, and we can't reach them on the phone, and please, please just let us go to them!"

Two of the soldiers broke off from the group surrounding the driver and moved to intercept her, but she was faster than they expected, fueled by something only mothers had, and she actually made it past the first Humvee before they caught up to her. One of them grabbed her arm, and she spun on him, not attacking but pulling away, trying to wrench herself free, and I saw the soldier's grip tighten as he tried to hold on without hurting her, caught between his orders and some instinct not to manhandle a crying woman.

The driver saw his wife being grabbed, and something in him snapped. He let out a roar that was barely human, but all rage and fear compressed into a single sound. Then he was charging the soldiers. He set his sights straight at the kid who'd had his rifle pointed at him a moment ago. The soldier's eyes went wide, and his whole body tensed. Even at this distance, I spotted his finger squeezing the trigger.

"Don't!" I heard myself shout, but my voice was lost in the chaos, drowned out by the woman screaming and the other soldiers yelling and the sudden sharp crack of gunfire that split the night open like a whip.

The first shot caught the driver high in the chest, spinning him sideways, and for a heartbeat, he stayed on his feet, his forward momentum carrying him another step before his legs gave out. The second shot came from a different rifle, fired by a different soldier, and this one hit him somewhere in the abdomen based on the way he folded in half, arms wrapping around his midsection. The third shot was unnecessary, redundant, the kind of thing that happened when training took over, and muscle memory said keep firing until the threat stopped moving. It caught him in the shoulder as he was already falling.

Killing Daniel Thorne hadn't cost me a moment's sleep. Neither had killing the infected going after the man on the road. And it didn’t bother me when my hand held the knife many times before. But this was different somehow. I watched it happen instead of doing it myself, and the uncomfortable sensation spreading through my chest might have been what normal people called remorse, though I'd never felt it before and couldn't say for sure.

The driver hit the pavement face-first, and the sound was wet and heavy, the kind of sound a sack of meat makes when dropped from a height. Everything went quiet except for the woman's screaming. She was on her knees now, the soldier who'd grabbed her arm having let go the moment the shooting started, and she was screaming her throat raw, words I couldn't understand anymore, just sounds of pure anguish that seemed to go on and on without her needing to draw breath.

Amber's hand clamped down on my thigh hard enough to hurt. Her nails dug in through my jeans, and when I looked over at her, she had both hands pressed against her mouth, and her eyes were huge and glassy with shock. Around us, other people in other cars were reacting: some ducked down below their windows, others stared in frozen horror, and a few fumbled for their phones to record what had just happened. The soldiers at the checkpoint looked just as shocked as everyone else. The ones who'd fired stood with their rifles still pointed at the body, breathing hard, while the others moved in to secure the scene, like they were running on training alone because thinking about what had just happened would break them.

The woman was still screaming when the Honda Civic directly in front of us lurched forward, tires screeching as the driver floored it. I saw it happening in the kind of slow-motion clarity that adrenaline sometimes gives you. The brake lights winked at me like, “I got this” and the car shot forward, aimed straight at the gap between two concrete barriers on the left side of the checkpoint. The driver must have thought he could squeeze through maybe a six-inch space between the barriers and the Humvee parked at an angle, and decided it was worth the risk, that anything was better than sitting here watching people get shot.

He was wrong.

The Civic hit the barrier at what had to be forty miles an hour, and the sound of the impact was enormous, like someone dropped a tractor off a roof. The front end crumpled like tinfoil, the hood buckled upward, and the windshield spiderwebbed instantly. For a second, the car just sat there with its engine revving uselessly and wheels spinning against pavement. Then the driver must have thrown it into reverse because the tires caught, and the car started backing up, with smoke pouring from under the hood and the whole front end twisted at an angle.

The soldiers reacted exactly as I had expected. They opened fire.

Muzzle flashes lit up the checkpoint like a strobe light, at least six rifles all firing at once, the sharp crack-crack-crack of M16s on semi-automatic hammering through the night air. I saw the Civic's windows explode, safety glass turning to diamonds and spraying across the interior, as the car shuddered under the impact of round after round punching through sheet metal, plastic, and flesh. The driver's side door sprouted holes, one-two-three-four in a tight grouping that said someone knew how to aim, and I caught a glimpse of the driver's head snapping back against the headrest before more rounds chewed through the windshield and turned everything inside the car into a spray of red.

Amber sat next to me, covering her face with her hands, but her fingers spread so she could peek through like a child watching a horror movie.

The Civic rolled backward maybe ten feet before it stopped, and by then the shooting had already tapered off, the soldiers lowering their rifles and staring at what they'd just done with expressions that ranged from shock to horror to grim satisfaction. Smoke drifted from the car's shattered windows, mixing with the exhaust from our idling engine and the acrid smell of gunpowder that hung in the air like a fog.

Around us, the checkpoint dissolved into chaos.

A minivan two cars back threw itself into reverse, backing up so fast it clipped the sedan behind it. Someone was screaming, maybe multiple someones, and the sounds were overlapping until I couldn't tell how many voices were contributing to the noise. Car doors started opening as people abandoned their vehicles, some running back the way they'd come, others just standing on the highway with their eyes wide and mouths hung open, and one man sprinted toward the soldiers with his hands up and his mouth moving, like he was trying to surrender or beg or explain that he wasn't a threat.

The soldiers ignored him, since they were already moving to secure the wrecked Civic. Behind them, more National Guard troops were pouring out from between the Humvees, and someone shouted over a loudspeaker.

“Remain in your vehicles and stay calm!”

These words were the most pointless ones anyone could say in this circumstance.

I had my hand on the gearshift, and every instinct told me to get us the fuck out of here before the situation deteriorated any further, when Amber's fingers dug into my forearm hard enough to leave bruises.

"Sam," she said, and there was something in her voice that made every nerve in my body go tight. "Look. Sam, behind us."

I twisted in my seat to look through the rear window, following her gaze down the line of stopped cars toward the street we'd come from, and for a second, I didn't understand what I was seeing. The intersection behind us was maybe two hundred yards away, far enough that details were hard to make out in the dark, but close enough that the shapes moving through the pools of streetlight were unmistakable once you knew what you were looking for.

A figure stumbled into view from an on-ramp, moving with that distinctive jerky gait I'd seen twice a few toppings now. It shambled forward a few steps and then stopped, head swiveling back and forth like it was searching for something, and it had the unmistakable yellow-green tint to its skin under the sodium lights.

"One of them," Amber whispered, but she was already looking past the first infected, her eyes tracking something else. "Sam, there's more. There are three of them now. No, wait, four."

I leaned forward against my seatbelt, squinting to see past the glare of headlights from the cars behind us, and felt my stomach drop as more shapes emerged from the darkness. She was right. What had been one infected a few seconds ago was now four, then five, then six, all of them converging on the line of stopped cars from different angles like they'd been drawn by the noise or the lights or the scent of living people packed together in one place.

"Seven," Amber said, her voice climbing higher with each count, one hand gripping my arm and the other pointing at the rearview mirror. "Eight. Oh God, Sam, they're coming this way."

I checked my side mirror and saw what she was seeing: the infected spreading out across the street like a net pulling closed, some of them moving faster than others, but all of them heading in the same direction, drawn to the checkpoint and the mass of humanity trapped in front of it. Nine infected. Ten. A woman in a torn hospital gown. A man in a business suit with most of his throat missing. A teenager still wearing a backpack, jaw working rhythmically as it shambled forward.

"Eleven," Amber said, and her breathing had gone rapid and shallow, the kind of hyperventilating that came before a full panic attack. "Twelve. They're getting closer, Sam. What do we do?"

The nearest infected was maybe a hundred and fifty yards away now, closing the distance at a slow but steady pace, and behind it the rest of the pack followed. The people in the cars behind us were starting to notice, heads turning to look back, and someone screamed. A whole new layer of terror had entered the situation. The infected were coming.

I did the math in my head, calculating distances and speeds, and felt the cold certainty settle over me that we had maybe three minutes before the first infected reached the back of the line and maybe five before they were swarming over the stopped cars. The checkpoint was still blocked ahead of us, with soldiers distracted by the shot-up Civic and the panicking civilians. Behind us, over a dozen infected were closing in with more appearing every few seconds as they emerged from that damn on-ramp.

We were boxed in. Barricades on both sides, cars front and back, soldiers shooting anything that moved too fast, and a growing horde of infected bearing down on us from behind.

Story/Link Index

Below is the post for the Zombie Exodus: Safe Haven, Part 4 beta test:

• $5+ patrons

Below is the link to the Zombie Exodus: Stronghold test version.

• $5+ patrons

Below is the link to the Deadbury Academy test version.

• Public link

For those of you at the Creator level for 6 months or more, please refer to this post about your tier reward.

Discord: Remember to join my discord and get your special patron role.

Below is a reference for all original stories exclusive to my patrons.

Brody & Madison from the start (an alternate reality start to their story. Though you will not be able to take the poll any longer to choose the next path, you can see what patrons voted for.)

Articles

• Extended Preview of Zombie Exodus: Safe Haven, Part 3

• Overview of the Major Factions in Safe Haven, Part 3

• Planning a Choice-based Game

• Zombie Exodus: Safe Haven, Part 3 Walkthrough, chapters 8 – 9

Interactive Stories

• Zombie Exodus: Aftermath

• Zombie Exodus: Side Stories, Brody & Madison

• Zombie Exodus: Side Stories, Rachel

Zombie Exodus

• Prologue

• Chapter 1 - Abigail

• Chapter 2 - Uncle Lou

• Chapter 3 - Abigail

• Chapter 4 - Mindy

• Chapter 5 - Abigail

• Chapter 6 - Uncle Lou

• Chapter 7 -  Mindy

• Chapter 8 -  Abigail

• Chapter 9 -  Emma

• Chapter 10 - Jason

• Chapter 11 - Devlin

• Chapter 13 - Uncle Lou

• Chapter 16 - Tom

Zombie Exodus: Safe Haven

• A Junkyard Date with Madison

• Bailey and Brody - To the Lake

• Diary of the Silverthorne Militia, Part 1

• Diary of the Silverthorne Militia, Part 2

• Elsie, Start of the Outbreak, Part 1

• Elsie, Start of the Outbreak, Part 2

• Graves Family - The Ultimatum

• Jaime and Woody - Scavenging Mission

• Jillian and Rosie — To the lake

• Julianne's Kitchen Nightmares

• Laurel's Journey

• Lopez & Rosie Scavenging Mission

• Lopez and Tommy

• Madison and Brody, What if They Never Went to Chipper Ridge HS

• Nephew and His Mother–Always Need a Plan

• Rachel, known as Melody

• Rachel, More Lies

• Rachel, Recruitment

• Sifer, Introducing by Brittany Martin

• Sifer's Survival School 10

• Thelma & the RMBC find their Haven

• Three Days on the Hilltop, Part 1

• Three Days on the Hilltop, Part 2

• What if Jillian and Lyle stayed together?

• Tommy, What if the MC Never Went to Help Tommy

Vampire: the Masquerade -- Out for Blood

• Extended Preview of Vampire: the Masquerade—Out for Blood

• The Role of the Hunter in Vampire: the Masquerade—Out for Blood

• Preview of the main characters in Vampire: the Masquerade — Out for Blood

Other Stories

• Shakefaces, Story and Art by Ethan David Underhill

Zombie Exodus: Stronghold Test Version (Nov 25, 2025)

Here's the link:

Test version (click here)

Stronghold is being re-written! It's over 147,000 words! Please check the log notes after loading the page above.

On CoGDemos, you must create a free account to save your game!

Also note, due to piracy, even for WIP games, you must now be logged in to Patreon to access this game.

Guidelines

• Please do not share details outside of here.

• Keep all comments in this thread.

• Good feedback is sometimes specific to your primary MC but should often be generalizable to other MCs.

To help with testing, please review the bulleted list in the change log on the first page of the test site.

ZE: Stronghold Sneak Peek

Here is a scene from chapter 6 of Stronghold. You and your group have made it to Dr. Crichton, who has promised to help you navigate through the fortress and get to safety. You are currently in her villa when commandos attack.

---

Shouts erupt from outside the villa. Before you can process what's happening, the doors crash inward with a bang. Soldiers flood in with automatic rifles raised. Red laser sights slice through the room, scanning the space in glowing lines. The beams hover, locking onto Dr. Crichton.

Your body moves before your mind catches up. As your friends scramble for cover, you rush behind a heavy bookshelf, barely hitting the ground before a barrage of bullets rips through the air above. The roar of gunfire fills the room. Glass shatters, wood splinters, and the cries of pain cut through the chaos.

The room explodes into chaos. The men in black scatter, ducking behind furniture as they return fire with their pistols. One of them already lies on his back with a series of bullet wounds to his chest. The commandos at the villa's entrance fire into every corner. A few rush forward, darting inside, seeking cover behind the walls and columns of the villa.

"Take cover! Protect Dr. Crichton!" one of the men in black shouts, firing off shots at the advancing commandos. A bullet whizzes through the air, striking him in the shoulder, spraying blood. He grunts, stumbling back behind a planter, and grips his wound.

Games by JimD Newsletter: Issue #97

Welcome to my 97th newsletter! Welcome to my new patrons, and thank you for following the progress on my games.

This has been a very busy month for me, since I’m still updating Zombie Exodus: Safe Haven, Part 4, while continuing to work on Stronghold. I will provide a brief update on my progress with Safe Haven below, but please note that the release date remains on track for February 5, 2026.

This newsletter will discuss Stronghold in more detail, as I want everyone to be excited about some of the new directions I’m taking. Sometimes I feel very bogged down in writing Safe Haven. It’s not the story but the code. There are lots of things that I would do differently if I were starting over. With Stronghold, I’m using everything I learned to make the story and code more streamlined. I will discuss this further later and hope you enjoy some of the new things I have planned.

In this newsletter, I will review my development plans, as I do every month. Let's get started.

Zombie Exodus: Safe Haven, Part 4

Part 4 is 1,020,000 words. There has been a closed beta, where dedicated testers are thoroughly reviewing everything to ensure fewer bugs and continuity errors. With a game of this size, it’s challenging to identify all those issues, but we are trying. This is being done in parallel with the entire document being copyedited. I’ve been told that the process will take until January. At that point, we will merge the files and produce the game.

I’m already considering additions to make for the free update. I’m planning on starting on it in March or April, depending on how things go with Stronghold.

Zombie Exodus: Stronghold

Over the past month, I’ve been deep in the world of Zombie Exodus: Stronghold, and the project has taken a huge leap forward. Last month’s demo covered only Chapter 1. This month, I’ll be releasing Chapters 1 through 5, giving you a much bigger and more intense portion of the story to explore.

I have rewritten a significant portion of the content because I felt it did not meet my standards. When I originally wrote the story for another publisher, I was on extremely tight deadlines. This made me rush to release weekly content. Now that I have more time, I’m rewriting and expanding every chapter.

Before I go any further, a quick note:
Mild spoiler ahead for an event that happens in the first chapter.

Stronghold opens with a moment that changes everything. While investigating a disturbance in the sub-level tunnels on your birthday night, the main character is bitten. That revelation shapes the entire trajectory of the story. From that point on, the narrative becomes a race against the infection itself. Your decisions, your alliances, and your chances of survival all unfold under the shadow of that bite. It sets Stronghold apart from Safe Haven with a more urgent, high-pressure pace right from the beginning.

These first five chapters take you far beyond the initial breach. You’ll see Stronghold unravel from the inside, encounter corruption that helped bring the fortress down, and meet the people who will become your closest allies.

• Harmony’s search for her missing mentor.

• Siena’s buried anger at the commander who wronged her.

• Alex’s need for redemption.

• Julian’s guilt and hope for a second chance.

• Jasmine’s determination to keep the community together.

• Aldor’s quiet devotion to the vulnerable.

Each carries their own story, and your infection forces those stories to collide in tense and surprising ways.

This expanded release sets the tone for the larger game: a fast-moving survival thriller set in a collapsing utopia, where every choice feels heavier because time is never on your side. I’m excited to finally share a much bigger slice of Stronghold with you, and I can’t wait to hear what you think once you dive in.

Safe Haven and Stronghold Crossover

I also have something special planned for the months ahead. With Stronghold now expanding into its early chapters, this feels like the perfect moment to connect the two games. I’m going to write a crossover between Zombie Exodus: Safe Haven and Zombie Exodus: Stronghold. Because Stronghold takes place one year after the outbreak began, the timelines line up in a way that makes this completely possible. Survivors from Safe Haven’s early days could realistically cross paths with the Stronghold cast.

Even better, I’m letting my Patreon community help decide which Safe Haven character makes the jump. It might be someone beloved. It might be someone unpredictable. It might be someone whose story raises more questions than answers once they step inside Stronghold’s walls. Whoever arrives will have a meaningful impact on the plot, the Stronghold group, and the larger mythology of the Zombie Exodus universe.

I’ll be posting a patron poll soon, along with a short list of possible candidates. Which character from Safe Haven would you like to see in Stronghold?

Free Skill Levels

I’m also bringing back a special feature that many long-time players will recognize. In Safe Haven, anyone who loaded a completed save from the original Zombie Exodus received bonus skill points as a thank-you for sticking with the series. I’ll be doing the same in Stronghold. If you have a Safe Haven save file, you’ll be able to import it and receive extra starting skill levels as a loyalty reward. It’s my way of saying thank you to everyone who has supported the universe across multiple games, and it gives returning players a small but meaningful edge as they fight to survive inside Stronghold.

Zombie Exodus: Safe Haven Artwork poll

My artist is working on Elsie and will soon be ready to create another character portrait for Safe Haven. Which character would you like to see next?

I have added more characters.

MC POV - Interactive Story - 19

Story Recap

The story begins in Lakeview, a residential neighborhood in New Orleans, on the day the Zeta virus outbreak reaches critical mass. Elijah, a 25-year-old infantry sergeant home on leave from the 82nd Airborne, is relaxing in his house as news of a rapidly spreading, violent infection takes over the airwaves. When his neighbor Jessica shows up at his door, it’s clear the city is collapsing. Together, they arm themselves as the streets outside fill with sirens, gunfire, and the distant rumble of helicopters.

While searching for supplies and survivors, Elijah and Jessica hear cries from inside a nearby two-story home. Inside, they discover a mother, Alicia, who was bitten while defending her teenage son, Ryan, from an infected mail carrier. The mother’s condition quickly worsens; Elijah is forced to end her suffering before Ryan’s eyes. The boy joins Elijah and Jessica.

As the chaos outside intensifies, the group debates its options. They realize they will have to deal with National Guard checkpoints, military movement, and other civilians fleeing the city. They gather essential supplies and weapons from Elijah’s house and Jessica’s, weighing the risks of different escape routes.

Continued from scene 18

You glance at Jessica and Ryan. "The best way is east into Mississippi. We'll aim for a rural location, such as Picayune or Hattiesburg. There will be fewer people and fewer chances for crowds or checkpoints."

Everyone settles in and buckles up. You pack the last bags tightly in the back seat of the Ford F-150. The engine starts with a low rumble as you pull away from the curb. Jessica keeps her eyes on the rearview mirror, while Ryan is quiet in the back, scrolling through his phone.

After five minutes of driving, you look over at Jessica, who is on her phone. She sighs and shakes her head, sliding the phone into her lap.

"My family lives over in Hammond," she says quietly. "I’ve been trying to get through to them all day, but the calls won’t connect. I keep thinking about my mom and my little brother. Hammond’s not that far, but it might as well be another world right now." She looks out the window as the city slides past. "I just hope they’re all right. It’s hard not knowing."

As you approach the on-ramp for I-10 East, traffic slows to a crawl. Up ahead, bright floodlights spill over the road, cutting through the deepening dusk. Concrete barriers force all cars into two tight lanes. Military Humvees are parked along the shoulders, their engines idling. Soldiers in National Guard uniforms move between rows of stopped vehicles, rifles slung across their chests. They check trunks, shine flashlights through windows, and question each driver.

You see families standing outside their vehicles. Some people have their hands raised, while others clutch backpacks. Voices rise in argument, but soldiers keep the lines moving, sending most cars to the shoulder before turning them back toward the city. The radios crackle with instructions and warnings, while the line of cars grows longer and more restless.

Beyond the checkpoint, only a few taillights flicker in the darkness. The highway on the far side is nearly empty, with just a handful of vehicles moving on.

"What are we going to do?" Jessica asks. "Do we let them search the car? I doubt they're going to let us through."

"Maybe we can take a different route? There are back roads." Ryan scrolls through his phone, never looking up.

Continue to scene 20

ZE: Stronghold Sneak Peek

The following scene has been reworked since the last time I provided a demo of Stronghold. This is one of my favorite scenes so far. It happens if your group travels through the underground tunnels.

---

You push deeper into the tunnel and the temperature drops fast. A chill seeps into your clothes and crawls over your skin. The dark thickens around you, until a faint band of light appears ahead. It cuts through the gloom in a hazy strip that slowly brightens, like the tunnel is cracking open just a little. The usual scuffling of rats fades away, replaced by a silence so complete it presses against your ears, broken only by the echo of your group's footsteps.

"Damn it, will this shit ever end?" Harmony mutters, her voice bouncing off the concrete.

Aldor turns toward her. "Want me to carry you, or give you a piggyback ride?"

"Aldor, I love you, and I know you mean well, but I'll crawl before I get a piggyback ride from anyone," Harmony says.

You round a corner and the light ahead sharpens, bright enough to make you think you have finally hit the exit. But something feels off. The glow shifts and thickens, and a shape begins to form inside it. At first it looks like a smear of motion, flickering and unstable. You narrow your eyes, trying to force the pieces together, and the silhouette slowly resolves into the outline of a young girl.

A sound drifts toward you, soft enough to raise the hair on your arms. You hear a melody so delicate it feels like it is floating straight through the cold air and settling into your bones.

Ring around the rosie,

pocket full of posies,

ashes, ashes,

we all fall down.

Your eyes go wide before you can stop them, because the scene in front of you feels like something your brain should not be processing. There's a child at the end of the dead-silent tunnel, glowing like she wandered out of someone else's nightmare. For a second you honestly wonder if you nodded off standing up and slid straight into a daydream.

"Is anyone else seeing a little girl?" Aldor asks, rubbing his eyes like he expects her to disappear if he blinks hard enough.

Julian clamps onto Aldor's arm and whispers loud enough to echo. "It's not a little girl. It's a ghost. Well, it is a little girl. A ghost girl. Bloody perfect."

Siena's face drains of color, and you can see every muscle in her jaw tighten. "What in the world is happening here?" she says, the words thin and shaky.

"There are no such things as ghosts," Alex snaps, though his voice cracks just a little. He steps forward like he means business. "We need to go over there and check on her. What the hell is she doing down here?"

Elsie Draft

This is a sketch of the artwork I commissioned for Elsie, who you meet in chapter 13 at the Southern Ute reservation.

Please let me know your thoughts and any suggestions on what could change.

Description: Elsie, with long hair in two braids, a sleeveless vest, and detailed tattoos covering her arm, holding a crossbow at her side.

Writing Updates

Currently, the files for Zombie Exodus: Safe Haven, Part 4, are with the copyeditor. I am still refining some of the code to address errors identified by testers. The goal is to have everything finished in January so that I can merge the copyedited files with the new code.

Currently, I am working on Zombie Exodus:  Stronghold. I'm not too happy with the way it was written when I first published it on Storyloom. I was always in a rush due to very tight timelines, so I'm going back through it and rewriting some of the text.

My editor at Choice of Games asked me to create a timeline for all my upcoming games. After some back-and-forth, we agreed to the following:

• Now - March: ZEX: Stronghold

• January - May: free update to ZEXSH. There are numerous wishlist items that people have been requesting. I'm also hoping to add things like Age and storyline continuation for hackers, soldiers, and teenagers.

• May - September: Deadbury Academy, Part 1

• September - ?: ZEXSH Part 5

There will be some overlap, but that's my tentative schedule.

In January, subscribers to my $5 per month or higher Patreon tiers will receive two different beta tests each month: Stronghold and Safe Haven.

Stronghold is already 40% finished, but I'm adding a lot of new content as I write, building on what the previous publisher had.

Deadbury Academy is also far along the way. If I had to guess, it's about 50% finished.

By the fall of next year, I will start Safe Haven, Part 5.

People have also recommended that I charge for the update that will add content to the first four parts of Zombie Exodus. While I appreciate the willingness to support, I don't want to charge anyone extra for this new content. I look at it as a way to enhance what you have already paid for. If you would like to support the work, you can always subscribe to Patreon or bump up your subscription.

Additionally, please note that my Patreon tiers will increase in price starting in January. If you want to lock in current prices, you should join now. Current patrons will not have their rates raised.

ZE: Stronghold Content Question

I'm in the middle of rewriting the first part of Stronghold. This game is going to be more focused on profession than Safe Haven. What profession interests you the most?

MC POV - Interactive Story - 18

Continued from scene 17

You step out to your Ford F-150 and drop your pack in the bed, the metal clanging in the humid dusk. Jessica follows, arms full of gear and sets everything down. You have her take the valuables to put in a metal lockbox attached to the flatbed. Ryan hangs back by the curb, tapping away at his phone, shoulders hunched and eyes fixed on the screen.

After a few trips, Jessica leans in, voice low so Ryan can’t hear. “We saved that kid’s life, and he’s just standing there,” she murmurs, glancing back over her shoulder. “I know he’s been through hell, but he’s not doing much to help.”

Before you can answer, Ryan looks up and crosses to you, holding out his phone. “Where are we even going?” he asks. “The National Guard is blocking off a bunch of roads. Look.” He shows you a website tracking military and police movements with red markers crowding the highways, and several major routes out of New Orleans labeled as closed.

Jessica tucks a loose strand of hair behind her ear, studying the screen over Ryan’s shoulder. She looks up and addresses you both. “We could try for the Causeway and head north to Mandeville or Covington. It’s a straight shot, but it’ll be busy. If the Guard seals it, we’re stuck on a bridge with nowhere to go. Baton Rouge is west, but that’s another big city. We might find supplies or help, but it’ll be crowded and probably dangerous. If we head into the river parishes, like LaPlace, Reserve, or even out to Gramercy, it’s quieter. There will be fewer people, but not a lot of places to hide if something goes wrong. Or we could take the back highways east and get out toward Picayune or Hattiesburg in Mississippi. It’s rural, less chance of running into the infected, but it’s a long drive, and we don’t know what’s waiting on the other side.”

She pauses, watching both of you, her hands tightening on the strap of her bag. “We need to pick fast. Every route has a downside.”

You look out over the neighborhood as the sun dips low.

Continue to scene 19

Outbreak Scenario 28

It has been ten years since the outbreak started. Civilization has not gotten back to normal. You live with your people inside an old freight depot. Power comes from several windmills which power the infirmary, food storage, and some lights in different buildings for part of the day.

Late one afternoon, a convoy rolls up the service road. Three figures step out. Their clothes hang loose, a mix of lab coats and torn military jackets. In the center walks a woman who introduces herself as Dr. Imani Rao.

Two of her people haul a reinforced crate between them, marked in faded black letters: ZETA ANTIVIRAL PROTOTYPE. She says it contains the last working cultures of a drug that might stop infection. All she needs is power and protection while she works.

In exchange for treatment, she requests a test subject from among your healthy. She claims her last volunteer survived seven days before showing symptoms, but she believes her adjustments have made it 100% safe. When you ask for more information and to see her research, she says the compound is not stable and needs to be used within the next twenty-four hours.

Patreon Tier Updates – Effective January 1, 2026

I want to let you know that I’ll be updating Patreon tier prices soon. This will be the first time I’ve raised them since starting Patreon eight years ago.

Your support has made it possible for me to keep adding new features, release free updates, and develop multiple games at once. These changes will help me cover the growing time and costs behind writing, coding, editing, art, and everything that goes into each release.

Thank you for standing by me through all of this and for making it possible to keep building the worlds of Zombie Exodus and beyond.

$1 and $3 → $3 “News & Early Access”

These tiers will merge into one. It will include early newsletters, behind-the-scenes posts, interactive stories, and polls.

$5 → $6 “Adviser”

This tier will continue offering early access to new game builds, plus voting rights for characters and story scenarios.

$10 → $12 “Contributor”

You’ll still receive original stories each month, expanded voting rights, and in-game credits. This tier will also include the chance to vote on newly commissioned artwork.

$25 → $35 “Creator”

This tier keeps the naming rights for characters and landmarks. With several new games in development, these opportunities are becoming more valuable.

$50 → $75 “Ultimate Survivor”

This role-playing tier takes significant time and creative effort. The new rate reflects that commitment. Members will continue to receive posts every weekday and Saturday, with Sundays off.

Only new members will be affected by these changes for most tiers. Current patrons will keep their existing rate as long as they remain subscribed. If you cancel and rejoin later, the new rates will apply.

The only exception is Ultimate Survivor, which will move to the new rate for all active members starting January 1, 2026.

I wanted to give everyone a few months’ notice to plan for the change, and I truly appreciate your continued support.

Schedule for November, 2025

If you haven't checked out my latest newsletter, it is now open to every member.

11/3 -- Outbreak scenario poll (Free tier)

11/4 -- Zombie Exodus: Side Stories (MC POV) scene 19. ($3+ tiers)

11/6 -- Content Sneak Peek ($3+ tiers)

11/9 -- Game updates (Free tier)

11/12 -- Content Sneak Peek ($1+ tiers)

11/16 -- Zombie Exodus: Side Stories (MC POV) scene 20. ($3+ tiers)

11/18 -- Character or Content Poll ($10+ tiers)

11/20 -- Newsletter. ($1+ tiers)

11/22 -- Content Sneak Peek ($3+ tiers)

11/25 -- Zombie Exodus: Stronghold Test ($5+ tiers)

11/27 -- Content poll (free tier)

11/29 -- New Original Story. ($10+ tiers)

ZE Outbreak Novel, Chapter 8

continued from chapter 7

Sam’s apartment, 8:15 PM, Wednesday, May 9, 2012

With everything packed, I moved everything right by the door and crossed the hallway to Amber’s apartment. I barely knocked before the door opened, and Amber stood on the other side in jeans and a flannel shirt with her hair in a tight braid. A backpack stood on the couch, and she had a huge flashlight somehow hooked to her belt.

“I’m ready to go,” she said, picking up the backpack and slinging it over both shoulders. She slipped on hiking boots and double-knotted them. After they were tied, she stood up next to me to show me her phone. “You said your brother lives in Bryn Mawr, so I looked up roads. There are street closings, and this emergency app has a display that shows military checkpoints. Highways are being blocked, because it looks like they are trying to contain people, which makes total sense.”

“You did all this in twenty-five minutes?”

“Yeah, I packed everything I thought we would need: protein bars, some canned salmon I had left over from before my last trip, extra inhalers, stuff like that. I’m assuming we’re not coming back until all this is over.”

She was talking fast, but it all made sense. Even though I half-expected to show up and find her sitting catatonic on the couch, here was this amazing woman packing and researching travel routes. I felt more in love with her in that moment. And I was pissed at myself for assuming she would hold me back. I might have needed her more than she needed me.

My phone buzzed, and I looked down to see her name on my screen along with a photo I programmed with her profile of the last time she was in town. Her hair was a little shorter, and she had on a floral summer dress–

“Sam, are you listening to me?” she asked, nudging my arm. “I texted you a map that shows the way to Gabriel’s house. The National Guard’s setting up new blockades every hour. If we leave now, we might not get boxed in. I left the way around most checkpoints, but there’s one we can’t skip. I don’t know any other way to get to him.”

A notification flashes on the top of her phone as a banner.

CitizenWatch: Just saw one of them at the grocery store! This is real!!!

Her thumb trembles as she sweeps the message away. “I jumped on this app that has real-time updates from people around Philly with what they’re seeing out there. Every few minutes, someone sees an infected person,” she says, shifting her weight from one foot to the other.

“You’ve done more than me. Let’s get going.”

I grabbed a small gym bag she had on the floor near the couch, and she grabbed a golf club from behind the kitchen island. When I glanced at it, she smiled. “I got hit with one of these in the leg at a golf course in Bermuda. It hurt like hell, so I figure if any infected come at me—” She practices a swing, stopping just short of hitting a kitchen chair.

We stepped into the hallway together, and I felt her thread her fingers through mine. As I got to the stairwell, she pulled me to the elevator.

“We have to conserve our energy,” she said, pressing the button.

She was right again. I swear, if I didn’t have her, I wouldn’t survive this mess, although the jury’s still out on whether I’ll make it a week in the Apocalypse.

The floor indicator dinged, but before the elevator came, Mrs. Redmond from 4C came into the hallway.

“Sam, are you heading to the store? I need milk if you don’t mind.” She held a paper bill up and gave me a wide smile.

“Sorry, Mrs. Redmond—”

“Margaret.”

“Right, Margaret, we’re heading on a trip and won’t be back soon.”

The wrinkles on her face scrunched up. “Oh, where are you heading?”

The elevator doors opened, and Amber stepped in, giving my hand a small tug.

“Just to the Poconos for a few days—"

Amber gave me a yank, and I stumbled a few steps into the elevator. She placed P for the parking lot and mashed her hand repeatedly on the Close button. When the doors closed, Amber shot me a sideways glance with a smile.

“You can flirt with your other girlfriend later,” she said.

When the elevator doors opened, the parking lot opened in a grayish light. Gasoline stains marked areas of the concrete, and the whole place smelled like cigarette smoke. Some guy was talking on his phone a few rows of cars away.

“…I’m telling you the truth. She bit the guy right in the calf like he was one of those big turkey legs at the god damn Renaissance fair…”

A car alarm wailed somewhere in the lot as Amber hurried me toward my Honda, parked seven spaces away. I popped the trunk, tossed our gear inside, and we both climbed in fast. The engine roared to life, and the radio blared too loud.

“The Pentagon claims reports of violence are exaggerated, while the CDC insists it’s premature to use terms like ‘pandemic.’ In other news, the Dow Jones Industrial Average plunged—”

Amber snapped off the radio and buckled her seatbelt.

As soon as we pulled out of the parking lot, I knew there was no turning back. The street outside our building looked nothing like home. An overturned SUV blocked half the intersection, its wheels still spinning and doors hanging open. Broken glass covered the sidewalk, and someone had smashed in the windows of the corner deli. Looters ducked through the opening, arms loaded with snacks and liquor, moving fast and not bothering to hide. Part of me wanted to get out and defend the place, but the risk and the need to get to Gabriel’s kept me in the car. I could tell my humanity was going to be tested from here on out.

Amber gripped the door handle, her eyes wide as we passed. People darted between stalled cars, clutching backpacks, pushing carts piled high with whatever they could grab. A little farther up, I caught the flicker of flames as someone had torched a row of recycling bins, and thick smoke rolled up, turning the sky a sick shade of gray.

The sirens never stopped. Somewhere nearby, a National Guard Humvee idled at an intersection. Soldiers shouted warnings I couldn’t make out over the chorus of alarms and horns. Police tape snapped in the wind, cordoning off side streets and bus stops smeared with blood. Every block we crawled forward, the city looked more like a war zone and less like Philadelphia.

“This is unreal,” Amber muttered, her mouth hanging open. It was a look of pure shock and bewilderment.

At one red light, I caught movement in the alley to my right. A hunched figure staggered in the shadows, bent double over something on the ground. Even from the car, I could see the way its arms jerked as it fed. Gunfire echoed in the distance, and someone shouted for help behind a pile of dumpsters before the voice cut off, swallowed by the noise. No matter which way I looked, the outbreak was closing in.

Every block we drove, the city squeezed tighter. Barricades of traffic cones and shopping carts blocked the bigger intersections. Road signs flashed warnings: QUARANTINE IN EFFECT. NO THROUGH TRAFFIC. The usual routes to Bryn Mawr were gone. Amber leaned over her phone, swiping through her map and calling out turn after turn.

"Left here," she said, barely glancing up. "If we stay on Chestnut, we’ll hit another barricade. Cut over to Walnut."

I wrenched the wheel, tires skidding as I dodged a city bus abandoned sideways in the street. My hands ached from how hard I gripped the steering wheel. Every other block, we’d have to slam on the brakes and find a new way around. National Guard trucks rolled slowly past intersections, soldiers posted with rifles at the ready, faces unreadable behind their visors.

Amber reached out and squeezed my arm. “Tell me the plan. Tell me all the details. I need destruction but I need to know what to expect.”

"We grab Gabriel, then we head north. Jack has a cabin in the Poconos, up near Lake Wallenpaupack. If anything goes wrong, if we get separated or whatever, meet me at the rest stop on I-476, Exit 32. We don’t stop for anyone, and we avoid the city centers, understood?"

Her fingernails dug into my skin. “What do you mean ‘get separated?’”

I glanced over at her. “Anything can happen out here. We need a contingency plan. I’m not saying we are going to get separated, but if we do, you know where to go.”

Amber nodded, shutting her map app. “And what exactly did you bring? What is everything we have?”

"I’ve got a Remington, a Glock, an AR, extra ammo, first aid kit, water, and food bars. What did you bring?”

She licked her lips. “I brought energy bars, canned food, water bottles, backup inhalers, prescriptions, some cash, and a knife. I got a heavy flashlight a few years ago in one of those stupid Christmas gift exchanges, and I brought a nine iron, I packed light with clothes, batteries, and my charger. And I can drive if you ever need a break."

I nodded. "If anything happens, we keep moving. From now on, we don’t look back."

Traffic made no sense anymore. Cars darted the wrong way down side streets, people honking and screaming. At one intersection, a man pounded on our window, his face streaked with blood and tears. "Please! Take my kid. Get us out!" I saw no kid, hit the locks, and shook my head, not meeting his eyes. Amber stared straight ahead, jaw tight, but didn’t say a word.

The city felt like it was closing in on us. We rolled past a police cruiser up on the sidewalk, its doors hanging open, windshield spiderwebbed with cracks. A blue tarp covered something in the street, stained dark at the edges. Fires burned in barrels near a loading dock, shadows flickering as people huddled close, eyes tracking every car that passed.

Amber squeezed my arm once. "We’re going to make it.”

I didn’t answer. I just pressed harder on the gas.

We crawled through the broken streets, and every turn and insersection had a new barricade or tangle of cars. Amber kept switching from watching the GPS and the road ahead. I could see her knuckles whiten every time I braked too hard.

Outside, the city looked shredded. A car shot through a red light, engine howling and bumper dragging sparks along the pavement. Sirens shrieked from somewhere nearby. I caught a glimpse of a body under a tarp by a fire hydrant, but only a pair of shoes stuck out. Police tape flapped in the wind.

Amber scanned the sidewalks. "Do you see any—"

"Not since we left our block," I said. I was watching every road and alley. Twice, I caught hunched figures lurching in the shadows, moving slowly, and feeding on something I didn’t want to name.

Traffic kept twisting. Cars cut us off, driving the wrong way down one-way streets, horns blaring, and drivers screaming at each other out open windows. A woman ran up to our car at a stop, pounding on the passenger glass. "Please, let me in! Please!" Her face was wild with terror, blood streaking her cheek. I shook my head and rolled past. Amber flinched but kept her mouth shut.

I watched for soldiers, for anything in uniform, but the National Guard trucks we passed never even looked at us. Fires burned in trash barrels by a church, shadows dancing behind the flames. I wondered how many people would survive the night.

"Do you think Gabriel’s ready?" Amber’s voice was barely a whisper. “Should you call him?”

I hesitated. "He knows I’m coming." How could I tell her I was going to kidnap my brother?

We hit a red light at a wide intersection. The city was deserted except for an old man shuffling across the crosswalk, clutching a plastic bag. He shuffled across the crosswalk, each step dragging like he was wading through mud. The light changed before he’d even made it halfway.

Then I saw the thing limping after him. Its shirt was torn, its skin an ugly yellow-green, and its jaw was working as if it were chewing on a piece of its own lip.

I froze. The human part of me said, “get the hell out and hope this guy!” The pragmatic side said, “keep going, this is not your fight.” It wasn’t like an angel and a devil on each shoulder, but two little demons shouting through my ears at one another.

Fate intervened. Actually, it was Amber. Her hand shot out, gripping my arm. “Sam, do something!”

Everything in me balked at the idea. Risk versus reward. Was one stranger worth it? I looked at Amber and saw what not acting would mean in her eyes. My hesitation pulled her eyes into a V, and her lips were twisting into a scowl.

I spun the wheel to my right and slammed my foot on the gas. The car leapt forward. The bumper hit the zombie dead-on. The body snapped up onto the hood, teeth bared, as it clawed at the windshield. A spiderweb of cracks burst across the glass. It slid down the hood, slamming into the pavement, then started to drag itself up again, hands thumping against metal.

The impact didn’t faze it, even though its right hip now hung lower than the right, and a bone stuck out of its thigh.

The old man collapsed in the street, face down, legs twisted under him. Amber was already throwing open her door.

“Amber! Stay—”

Too late. She sprinted to the man’s side, ducking low to haul him upright, her arms hooked under his shoulders.
I cursed and yanked my Glock free as I shoved open my door.

The zombie was already back on its feet, head lolling, a string of blood swinging from its jaw. It fixed on Amber and the old man, shuffling toward them with that crooked gait. And somehow it was moving faster than before I hit it.

I should explain that I felt no moral pull to help the man. That part of my brain never fully developed. On the other hand, the infected was heading right for Amber. I wasn’t going to let it touch her.

This undead thing was too close to them, and I couldn’t play ping-pong with it and my car. I hopped out the driver’s side and yelled, “hey, over here!”

For a split second, it found, and dead eyes met mine. Whatever lived behind that stare wasn’t human. It turned on its broken axis and barreled towards me.

I wasn’t going to play games like I did in the kitchen of Amber’s father’s house. I raised the pistol, thumbed off the safety, and pulled the trigger. The shot boomed out, echoing between the buildings. The bullet punched through its skull, snapping its head back. Momentum carried it a few feet before it face planted to the asphalt.

A window above slammed shut. Someone screamed, “Gun!” A siren wailed somewhere farther off. My hands barely shook. If anything, I felt something cold and electric move through me.

Amber hauled the old man upright and helped him toward the sidewalk. He mumbled something, clutching his side, and stumbled away towards the front of a rowhouse. Good ol’ Amber, kind, sweet woman, followed him onto the stone porch and used his keys to get the door open.

“Come on, come on, come on,” I murmured as I slid back into the car. My eyes went side to side as I searched for any signs of danger. Anything could pop out from anywhere. One minute you’re walking down the street, and the next you’re running from a pack of nightmares.

Finally, she hurried back to the car and slid into the passenger seat, breathing hard. She looked at me, her eyes bright with adrenaline. “Thank you.”

“You don’t have to thank me. You did all the work.”

It felt like the right thing to say, and she reached out and squeezed my shoulder.

I put the car in drive and peeled away from the intersection, glass crunching under the tires, sirens crying behind us. My heart hammered from something dangerously close to exhilaration.

As we moved again, I stared at my hands on the wheel, the memory of the shot replaying in my head. Why did it feel good? Was it because I’d saved someone? Or was it because the thing I killed was already lost, and I’d been waiting for a chance to let this part of myself out?

continue to chapter 9

Zombie Exodus: Safe Haven Poll

At the end of ZEXSH Part 3, which of the following survivors are still in your group? (These are only survivors that could die or not be recruited)

BREAKING NEWS

The wait is almost over! Zombie Exodus: Safe Haven – Part 4 releases February 5, 2026.

Grab your gear, survivors. It’s time to head back to the junkyard.