The three of us (Josh, Davey and I, that is) trekked off to the far off land of Oaks, so as to make our escape from the hordes. I loathe the undead. Driving over the Bridge, we made our solemn pact: Run as a team, Die as a team, Probably leave and get dim sum as a team.

We ran off into the daylight when the man with the waxed moustache said "Go!", and soon came upon our first Chaser, at a choke point outside the first checkpark. He ran off after Josh, leaving Davey and I with a clear path to safe haven. Once there, we waited and and called, called and waited. One time, I got through: "I'm hiding", I heard, and then nothing.

Eventually Josh made it, having been chased back nearly to the start of the race, and we set off once more. Made it to the second checkpoint, even: no problem. But zombies, they have this thing called exponential population explosion. Cleared a few more, and then I got suckered by a guy with a shady arm and a crooked half-smile. Nearly ripped his arms off, after that one. Nonetheless, we were now bound by our oath. Davey took one for the team, and Josh got caught anyway, off in a park somewhere.

Grim resolve gripped us! If we could not win this race, we were damn well gonna break some hearts and take down every human we could get our fetid, rotting hands on. We resembled the shambling husks of film not at all - more a pack of wild dogs on the hunt, with GPS implants and psychic communication. We set off, bristling with tactical rage, and started catching us some runners. After taking down several by the lake, and a catch-and-release after we realized the street was a safe zone, the pickings got scarcer. We got out ahead of the pack, and waited for the front-runners. Front-runners were few and far between, but we took what we could get.

After a brief bout with temptation, derailed only by a 10-minute wait at a packed dim sum joint, we got back on the hunt and ended up at the last checkpoint before the end of the route. There we met our final quarry of the night: The only human runner to make it this far. We stared into his eyes, and saw foolish confidence. His demise was inevitable.

We ran on ahead, each loping stride taking us closer to the final showdown with doomed humanity. We staked out the site of our last stand: I manned the median, cutting off all angles, Davey scaled a building to keep lookout, and Josh guarded the intersection, watching for motion in the darkness.

The minutes crawled by, but we stood firm in the night, knowing the time was near. And then he was there, out of the corner of my eye, hundreds of yards off, Davey and Josh already in pursuit. I flew to them, and saw the crazed look of a cornered deer now. He didn't see me until it was too late, and no more running could save him then.

We took our final prize of the night from his arm, and proudly walked off to the Gazebo to claim our spoils. We took more than 10 humans that night, and so it shall be written in the annals of history.

Then like an hour and a half later, the same guy I caught and then had to let go runs in and wins it. Dang!