Nuclear weapons seemed to be on the table, if that was any indication of how bad things had deteriorated in such a short time. Max had been in Arvada, a suburb of Denver, two days ago when the government had dropped a nuclear bomb out near the International Airport. The bomb had gone off on top of a radio station, or close by it at least. The deejay, Blake 'the snake', had kept up broadcasting in the week since the zombie infestation had started, living off of bottled water and the station's vending machines. His co workers had deserted him one by one until he was left alone. Blake had barricaded the doors to his building and to the floor of his building too and kept the whole place running on generators. Unfortunately some of the more intelligent zombies had heard his broadcasts too and they had surrounded the place. For some reason the smarter zombies seemed to attract the less intelligent ones around them in droves and the constant efforts by people to rescue the deejay attracted the food to them. The last effort, by the Colorado National Guard, had involved a whole convoy of troops, they had humvees, tanks and even a helicopter. The zombies numbered in the tens of thousands, the convoy numbered in the hundreds. The 'snake' had given a play by play of the fighting, including accounts of the smart zombies using rifles of the fallen guardsmen.