by Scott Lee
Connor woke up at the crack of dawn, his wristwatch alarm beeping incessantly in his ear. Turning off the alarm, he swung his legs over the bed and rubbed the sleep from his eyes as Monty rubbed against his back, purring happily. Looking down, he realized he’d fallen asleep in the blood soaked clothes from the zombie battle the night before.
He barely remembered coming back to the apartment last night, as everything after the battle was hazy at best. He had wandered through the complex with his blood soaked weapons hanging at his side as people steered well clear of him. Crossing into the lobby of his building, even the old men at the game table stopped to stare. Somehow he found his way to his apartment, where he fell to the bed, sleep overtaking him instantly. Even Monty had kept his distance this time.
As he stretched his arms, he took a moment to scritch the cheeks of the happy cat that was now walking onto his lap. Monty purred louder in response, seemingly pleased to see his person back to normal. Satisfied with the attention, the cat raced to the kitchen and sat by his bowl, anxious for his morning meal.
Connor stood and quickly shed the nasty clothes, tossing them into a basket in the corner. He’d clean them when he got back from the city. Walking to the window, he opened the blinds and gazed out the window.
“Dammit!” he muttered.
Looking out the window, all he could see was a thick fog blanketing the area. The trees of the nearby riverbank and the river itself were completely engulfed in the thick mist, and neither was visible at all. He could barely make out anything more than 25 feet away.
“Figures,” he said. “Always happens when I’m making a run”.
This was going to delay his start by at least an hour or two. Turning away from the window, he walked to the kitchen where Monty sat patiently waiting. Grabbing a Tupperware container full of dry cat food, he quickly filled the cat’s bowl, giving him an obligatory rub on the head as he walked away.
Moving to the dresser, he grabbed a pair of convertible pants that he used specifically on missions. They had zippers on the pant legs that allowed them to easily convert between shorts and pants. Next he picked out an army green tank top and a clean pair of socks and underwear. Throwing the clothes onto the bed, he quickly put on his showering shorts and, grabbing a towel, washcloth, soap and his knife, made a beeline for the door, anxious to go pee and then get to the river to get clean.
Stopping short of his door, Connor slammed a fist against the wood and placed an ear to the door, listening for a count of 15 before turning the doorknob. Opening the door, the sheath of his sword fell forward into his room, hitting the floor with a clunk. Connor picked it up and smiled as he read the attached note.
“Thought you might want this back.”
Smiling, he carried the piece inside and placed it on the table.
“Thanks Doug,” he whispered.
Heading back to the hall, Connor quietly closed the door behind him as he headed downstairs.
“Man, do I gotta pee!” he said aloud as he broke into a trot.
Diana ran through the forest, branches slapping her face as she threw caution to the wind. Looking over her shoulder, she could see the throngs of undead growing as more and more zombies joined the chase. Her legs felt like lead as she struggled to run, her feet seemingly stuck in mud as she tried to move forward. Diana’s shoes barely lifted off the ground as each step became harder and harder, her progress slowing with each passing second.
The zombie’s moaning grew louder in her ears as her legs continued to fail her. She could see the dozens of gray, dead eyes, as the undead mass closed in from every direction. Still, she tried to run, but her feet just wouldn’t go. Her legs dragged with each attempted step as panic overwhelmed her. Dropping to the ground, she covered her head and screamed as the cold hands of death grabbed her from all sides.
Connor rushed down the stairs and burst into the lobby, nearly sprinting for the bathrooms on the other side of the room. As with most other aspects of the complex, the bathrooms in the lobbies of the buildings had been designed with “going green” in mind. The urinals in the men’s room were the flushless, water free variety, which meant they could continue to be used after the apocalypse hit, with only routine maintenance required to keep them functional. Rushing through the men’s room door, he raced for the closest urinal and spent the next 45 seconds sighing in relief.
Bladder drained, Connor stepped out into the fog and headed for the river. After exiting the gate, he headed for the river, giving a quick nod to one of the many guards patrolling the wall. Reaching the water, he took off his boots and socks and quickly cleaned up, not wanting to spend any more time than was necessary in the water under the foggy conditions. Normally he’d have waited for the fog to lift, but today he didn’t have that luxury. He needed to be ready to roll the moment the fog started to burn off.
Stepping out of the river, he quickly dried off and hurried back to his room. Stepping through the door, Monty jumped from the windowsill and rushed to greet him. Giving him a quick rub of the ears, Connor moved to the kitchen and grabbed a new box of Cheerios. After filling a bowl, he mixed some powdered milk and ate the cereal as he walked over to the table where his maps and weapons were laid out. Looking over the maps again, he went over the plan one more time, just to be sure.
Diana woke up screaming, her head smacking off the bunk above her as she tried to sit up. Lying back, she rolled from the bunk and sat on the floor, burying her head in her hands as she tried to regain her composure. The nightmare left her shaken, her hands trembling as she tried to brush back her hair. Taking deep breaths, she slowly started to relax as her heart rate returned to normal.
Looking at the small window, she could see muted daylight around the edges. Checking her sports watch, she saw that it was 7:04 am. After taking a moment to relieve herself in the corner of the cabin, she quickly gathered her bag and approached the door. Listening carefully first, she slowly opened the door and peered outside. The entire area was shrouded in a thick blanket of fog. She could barely see one of the adjacent cabins not more than 50 feet away.
Carefully stepping outside, she took a few steps forward before stopping. Something didn’t feel right. Listening, she heard nothing. Not a single sound. Not one bird could be heard in the cool morning air. Turning slowly in a circle, she couldn’t shake the feeling that something bad was about to happen. Everywhere she looked, the fog stared back. Thick and menacing, it hid the surrounding world from her sight. Her pulse quickened with each passing second as she stared out into the gloom. Something was out there. She could feel it.
Continuing her slow rotation, she suddenly stopped, her eyes squinting into the white veil that surrounded her. Within the fog she could see a ghostly shadow slowly materializing. Barely perceptible at first, the ethereal shape began to take form as it moved forward, becoming more corporeal with each passing second. Diana’s breathing stopped, her heart pounding in her chest as the shape solidified before her eyes. She watched in fear as a second shape appeared in the gloom, not far from the first. Turning, she struggled to breathe as another form appeared, then another, and another. She froze in terror at the scene unfolding in front of her. Dozens of ghastly apparitions were flowing from the fog like a vision out of a nightmare.
Diana stood trembling with fear as the horde of undead emerged from the fog. Everywhere she looked, more spectral shapes appeared. She could start to make out details as the creatures pushed forward, their horrifying gray faces and blood-covered bodies staggering through the mist.
Her chest tightened as the first of the zombies let out an unearthly moan upon gaining sight of her. Like a haunting echo, dozens of moans responded from within the fog. The blood curdling sound snapped Diana back to her senses, her mind instantly searching for a way out as the zombies closed in.
Spinning around, she spotted a small gap in the ranks of the undead. Without hesitation, she sprinted for the opening, praying that there was room
to run beyond. The fog only allowed her about 20 feet of clear visibility as she sprinted into the sea of undead
The zombies weren’t fast, but they also weren’t slow. Depending on their condition, they could move as quickly as a fast walk, effectively cutting off an escape or chasing down wounded prey.
As Diana ran forward, the zombies moved to intercept, hands brushing her arms as she bolted through them. Making it past the first two creatures, she dodged to the left as two more shapes appeared in front of her. Cold, dead hands reached out for her as she weaved her way through the fog, sometimes slamming into one of the horrors as she ran. Racing across the field, she slid to a stop as a wall of undead appeared before her. Regaining her footing, she darted to her left, a plan forming in her head.
She knew the park fairly well from her years of jogging there, and knew roughly where she was. Somewhere to her left was a small hill leading to a parking lot. Beyond that were trees, and beyond the trees were train tracks. The tracks paralleled the river, and that’s where she needed be. If she could make the tracks, she might have a chance.
Dashing forward, she headed for the hill. Zombies littered the field, forcing her to repeatedly change course to stay alive. Facing a small cluster of undead, she ran to the right in an effort to avoid them. As she sprinted back to the left, she was suddenly pulled off of her feet as a zombie caught hold of her supply bag. Hitting the ground hard, she rolled over to see the gross, distorted face of the zombie as it lay in front of her, its hand still clutching the strap of the bag, it’s mouth open in anticipation. Her momentum had taken the zombie down with her, and now it clawed its way forward. Frantically, she scrambled to untangle the bag from her shoulder, with the zombie just inches away now. Diana threw her arm up in defense as it drove forward, its mouth biting hard on her forearm. Screaming in pain, she reached into her bag and pulled out the first thing she touched. With all her strength, she drove the object into the side of the zombie’s head. The creature dropped and lay motionless as she pulled her arm free of its mouth, a metal punch protruding from the skull.
Prying the bag strap loose, she scrambled backwards on hands and feet as three more zombies closed in. In a flash she rolled and was up again, racing back towards the hill. She hadn’t realized how far she had run until she hit the slope, nearly falling forward with her momentum. Her arm ached as she ran up the hill, slipping at times on the wet grass. The undead swarm followed behind her, but didn’t have the dexterity to navigate the steep hill. Each would take a few steps forward and topple over when they tried to climb. Many were now on their hands and knees, clawing their way up, while others were moving up the less steep walking path to her right.
Taking a brief moment to check her arm, she breathed a sigh of relief as she saw that the duct tape had held up under the zombie’s bite. She’d have a nasty bruise, but she’d live.
Wasting no more time, she turned and sprinted across the parking lot towards the river.
Morrow’s men sat in the parking lot of Washington’s Headquarters, which was not far from where they had last seen the girl. Two other teams of men were also out combing the park as Morrow instructed, despite the thick fog. None of the men wanted to approach Morrow with the idea of waiting for the fog to lift, so the plan was for them to spread out across the park and for each group to set up a vantage point where they could wait out the fog and possibly do some limited searching for the girl. Washington’s Headquarters was a logical place where the girl might seek refuge during the night, so one of the teams had arrived there at the crack of dawn.
The men had searched the various buildings and log cabins near the parking area to no avail. If the girl had been there, she covered her tracks well, but with no sign of forced entry, they felt certain this wasn’t the case.
Now the men stood around the truck, talking quietly as they waited patiently for the fog to lift. There was no point in trying to search beyond the nearby buildings under these conditions, as they could barely see more than 25 feet in front of them. Heck, driving to the park had been a challenge in itself as they all but crawled there to avoid slamming into zombies with the low visibility. So now they waited.
Suddenly, one of the men held up his hand for quiet.
“You guys hear that?” he whispered.
Each of the four men stopped and listened. Faint at first, the men began to hear the bone chilling moans of the dead. As the seconds passed, the sound grew in intensity, to the point where the men realized that this was no small group of zombies. It was a horde. Or worse, a swarm, and something had them worked up and on the hunt.
Each of the men had on a jump suit that could easily be shed in a few seconds. Underneath they wore only shorts, for they had each been sprayed down with ZOMBIE OFF before they left. In the event of a large zombie encounter, they would remove the jumpsuits and let the ZOMBIE OFF do its job. However, the fog was causing issues. If they were to spend too much time in the fog with exposed skin, the moisture might dilute the ZOMBIE OFF and expose them to the undead. Keeping the suits on, the men nodded in silent agreement and headed off in the direction of the moans.
Connor was dressed in his mission clothes as he stared out the window. It had been an hour and the fog looked to finally be starting to burn off, albeit slowly. Turning from the window, he headed for the table where Monty sat among the weapons.
“Here we go buddy,” he said to the cat as he stroked him gently.
Systematically he attached every weapon on the table to his person. When he was done, he looked like something out of a super hero movie. Grabbing his messenger bag, he threw a pile of RUSH, IRON MAIDEN, and DIO CD’s into it, along with four plastic bottles of water and the can of ZOMBIE OFF.
Turning back to the cat, he gave him two quick pecks on the head as he stroked his back.
“I’ll be back for dinner,” he said, smiling.
Monty simply blinked and purred in response.
Grabbing the keys to the boat, Connor headed for the docks.
Diana sprinted across the road towards the trees. There was little undergrowth among the closer trees, making for easy going in that respect. But the fog was still thick, so she had to be careful. Despite the fact that she had evaded the zombie horde, she knew there were still undead lurking in the mist, and if she let her guard down, she’d be dead before she reached the river.
Darting to the nearest tree, she pressed her back against it as she peered through the fog for any sign of the dead. Looking around, she could see the fog was beginning to thin out as the sun crept higher in the sky. Once the fog was gone, she’d be completely exposed to the zombies unless she was far enough away. She had to get out of the park - soon.
With no sign of the undead, she raced forward through the trees until she came to a trail that bordered a more dense forest. Instead of the tall grass, she was now faced with the prospect of navigating thicker overgrowth on the forest floor if she continued through the trees. As she stood at the trail, pondering her next course of action, she heard the moans of the zombies getting louder from the direction of the parking lot. The first of the horde was cresting the hill! Making her decision, she darted down the trail, heading west in the direction of Washington’s Headquarters. Although she had never jogged this trail before, she had seen it on a trail map and she knew that it linked up with a smaller trail that paralleled the train tracks.
Pacing herself, she ran at jogging speed so as not to get overly winded. The trail went about 600 feet before turning south, but a smaller trail branched off north into the woods at the turn point, causing her to stop. With the fog lifting, she could see that the trail was clear within the woods, so she headed off into the trees, slowing slightly as a precaution. She could still hear the dreadful moans as she ran through the woods, although they didn’t seem to be getting much closer. Continuing on, she came to T-intersection in the trail, forcing her to choose between left and right. As she pondered the choice, a chill
went down her spine as a terrifying sound rose above the moans of the undead.
Morrow’s men took off up a trail, jogging in the direction of the moans and watching the fog carefully for any sign of the horde. After about 1000 feet, the group came to a fork in the trail and decided to split up. Peterson and Wallace would go off in the direction of the road, while Jamison and Smith would follow the trail paralleling the tracks. They agreed to meet back at the truck in 45 minutes.
Peterson and Wallace set off for the road, slowing to a fast walk as they advanced. The moans of the dead were growing increasingly louder with each passing minute. The fog was starting to thin a little as they moved on, and that’s when they saw it, not 50 feet ahead. The swarm. Crossing the road like a ghostly parade was the leading edge of hundreds of undead, all moving together in mass, like a giant flowing ooze. The men froze and immediately removed their jumpsuits, shedding them in the nick of time as the wraithlike shapes of the undead started materializing within the fog around them. Within minutes, hundreds of zombies were descending upon them, all moving in the direction of the river.
As the men began to move, the zombies continued to flow out of the fog, a seemingly endless army of the undead. Armed with only a pistol and knife on their belts, the two men marched slowly forward as the swarm engulfed them. They had heard about how ZOMBIE OFF worked, but this was their first real field test, and it was a massive test at that. As calmly as possible, the two men walked with the zombie swarm, being careful to make no sudden movements in the process. As they moved within the mass, not a single zombie took notice of them as they continued their morbid trek across the road. Something had caused them to migrate like this, and that something was prey. They were after something, or someone, and whatever it was, it was heading for the river.
The two slowly advanced within the swarm as it moved forward, angling their movement towards the east in an effort to get past them. They did their best to match the pace of the zombies, carefully moving through them as they moved forward with the flow. Within the swarm, the men were surrounded by death. The smell was sickening as they struggled to maintain their composure. Zombies in all stages of decomposition were milling about them, their moans pushing the limits of their sanity. To their right, a once young girl in a sundress staggered on, her left leg chewed down to the bone, her right arm missing at the elbow. Flesh had been torn from her face revealing part of her jaw and cheekbone, while dried blood and gore covered the front of her torn dress. To their left, a male in a business suit lurched forward, its right ankle snapped, the flesh of the foot mostly gone. Entrails spilled from its side where the zombies had feasted before he turned. Dozens of similar horrors moved among the men as they slowly tried to work their way to the far side of the swarm.
After five minutes, the mental strain was beginning to take its toll on Wallace, the younger of the two. As they moved slowly along, Peterson could see the fear creeping into the eyes of his partner. The sounds of the undead alone were enough to drive anyone to madness, no less standing among hundreds of them. Engulfed now by a thicker mass of undead, the men were literally inches from the zombies, and at times bumping against them as they moved along. The smell was now overwhelming, and the younger man was on the verge of breaking.
They still had a good 30 yards to go when Wallace snapped. Eyes wide, the man stopped and started to turn about, frantically looking for a way out of the sea of undead. Peterson continued to walk, distancing himself from the panicked man. He knew he couldn’t help him. To try would be a death sentence for him too. Looking back, he watched as the horrific scene unfolded, helpless to save his colleague.
In a panic, Wallace began to push through the zombies, struggling to get free of the swarm. Moments later, his eyes filled with terror as the undead around him stopped their progress and slowly turned their attention on him. Bordering on hysterics, the man desperately tried to run through the throngs of undead as lifeless hands clawed at his flesh, knocking him off balance and sending him crashing to the pavement. Within seconds the screams of the dying man could be heard above the moans of the dead as dozens of zombies closed in and tore the man apart.
Peterson kept his composure as the mass of zombies around him turned and headed for the screaming man. Using the distraction to his advantage, he managed to move through the surging wave of undead to the safety of the road beyond. By the time he reached open pavement, the screams of his partner had long since died out. Looking back, a mound of zombies could be seen where the young man had fallen, the mob pulsing like ants on a fallen insect as more zombies pressed forward in an effort to feed.
Turning from the gruesome sight, the older man slowly walked away, avoiding the attention of the now frenzied swarm. Without looking back he slowly walked down the road until he was out of sight of the zombies. And then he ran.
Jamison and Smith jogged slowly along the path paralleling the railroad tracks. With any luck they might be able to intercept whatever had the zombies so worked up. Moving along the trail, they hit a junction where they had the choice of going into the woods, or following along the tree line in the direction of the road. Knowing the other team was following the road, the men turned and followed the trail into the woods, continuing to parallel the tracks as they headed east.
The men continued through the woods, slowing their pace for the sake of caution. Woods were bad enough without adding fog to the mix. As they moved ahead, the moans of the dead seemed to grow louder with each passing minute. It was clear that the zombies were getting closer. Taking no chances, the men decided it would be in their best interest to shed the jumpsuits in case they suddenly encountered the swarm. Even though the fog was thinning, visibility was still poor.
They had just resumed walking when they were forced to a halt as a bloodcurdling scream echoed across the fields from the direction of the road. Immediately the two realized that one of their own had fallen. Sharing a worried glance, the two continued forward just in time to see a shape disappearing into the fog, and it was running.
A bone-chilling scream echoed through the woods, striking fear into Diana’s heart. She barely hesitated as she turned right and sprinted down the path. As she ran, she pondered what she just heard. There were people in the fog with her, and one of them had just died. Of that, she was certain. If there were people out there, then they were probably the ones who were chasing her the day before. No one else would be desperate enough to enter a fog like this. Zombies were one thing to worry about, but men trying to kill her were another.
Throwing caution to the wind, Diana continued to sprint until the moans began to fade and her lungs began to burn. She had been running flat out for a solid three minutes when she finally had to stop and catch her breath. Hands on her knees, she gasped for air as she listened for any sign of the dead, or the living. Glancing down, she saw that one of her shoelaces had become loose. Kneeling down, she heard the bullet fly over her head a split second before hearing the gunshot.
Jamison and Smith bolted into the fog in an attempt to catch the person that just ran off. Neither got a good look at it, but they could tell for sure it was human. And if it was the girl, both wanted to be the ones to bring her in. Catching the girl would get them back on Morrow’s good side, and that was a must at this point. Neither wanted to go back to the Chemcorp complex without her for fear of what Morrow would do.
As they ran down the path, they saw no sign of the sprinting figure. Whoever it was, they were fast. Very fast. Continuing their pursuit, they ran on, finally succumbing to fatigue after a few minutes. Slowing to a walk, they continued down the path another 50 yards before they saw the faint outline of someone standing in the fog. The person was bent over, as if catching their breath.
Jamison was slightly ahead of Smith as they came to a stop. The figure didn’t see them, so they had the advantage. All they had to do was stay low and sneak up on the person before they moved. Turning to his partner
, Jamison’s eyes went wide. Before he could stop him, Smith pulled the trigger of his pistol, the gunshot echoing through the trees like a cannon.
Diana’s adrenaline kicked in as she took off running in reaction to the gunshot. On the verge of panic, she ran at breakneck speed down the path, stumbling and nearly falling multiple times as she ran. The men who followed her were close enough to see her in the fog, and they had guns. If she didn’t lose them soon, she’d eventually become exhausted, and then she’d be at the mercy of whomever, or whatever found her first.
As she ran, the sobering realization of the gunshot slowly set in. The sound of that shot could carry for miles in the fog, and that meant that every zombie within earshot would be heading her way. And based on the moans she heard earlier, there were hundreds behind her, maybe thousands.
Calming herself, Diana forced herself to slow down. She needed to pace herself in order to keep moving, and she now had to worry about zombies attracted to the gunshot. So far she had seen no sign of her living pursuers, but this didn’t mean they weren’t hot on her heals.
As she ran, the fog continued to slowly burn off, allowing her to see a little deeper into the woods. She had been able to see the railroad tracks to her right for the last three or four minutes, but decided against using them for fear of being in the open. Continuing her flight, the trail angled to the right, heading deeper into the woods. Diana considered breaking from the trail, but she knew that if she did, she’d be running headlong through the brush, and she’d undoubtedly make a lot of noise doing so. Knowing that the gunshot had surely signaled additional undead, she stuck to the trail where she could see what was coming. After another few minutes of running, she saw just what she had feared.
Connor stepped out of the apartment building and took a deep breath of the crisp morning air. The fog was beginning to burn off as he walked across the complex toward the dock. Despite the many people walking about, the complex was silent as he strolled along. Connor nodded politely to everyone he passed, with most giving courtesy nods and half smiles in return. Many made a point to steer well clear of him as he passed by, the vast array of weapons strapped to his body creating an intimidating sight.
As he approached the river, he came upon the south wall. The defenses here were two fold. First there was the standard semi trailer wall, but unlike the main gate, there was a large steel shipping container wedged between two trailers, being used as a gate passage to the dock area. One man guarded the heavy steel doors of the container, while a second was perched atop the container, watching the river.
Connor was well known to the men on guard duty. He had made more runs into the dead zones than anyone in the complex by a wide margin. The fact that he did it alone garnered the respect of everyone who had been on even a single supply run.
As he approached the gate, the guard held out the clipboard for Connor to sign. Everyone leaving on a supply run needed to sign out so the guards knew if someone didn’t return. When he was done, the guard gave a quick bird whistle to signal the guard on top. A quick whistle in response indicated that the coast was clear and the doors could be opened. The guard opened the doors and stepped to the side as The Seeker walked forward, holding out his fist as the weapon laden man walked by. Connor face showed no emotion as he bumped fists before passing through the doors.
“Good luck,” the guard whispered as he closed the doors behind him.
Standing in the dark container, Connor walked toward the only source of light. On the far wall, a small three-foot wide by four-foot high hole had been cut in the bottom right corner of the container wall. It was the only way into the container from the riverside of the wall, and the small opening meant that any attempts to breach the defenses through the container would force the attackers to enter single file, making it easy to defend.
Squatting down, Connor carefully crawled through the opening, being mindful not to hit any of his weapons on the metal. Smacking the metal this close to the river could attract unwanted attention, as sound is amplified when it passes over water. Add in the foggy conditions where sound travels further, and any noise could attract zombies from a much greater distance. This was the main reason why everyone was being so quiet in the complex this morning.
Once outside the container, Connor headed to the docks, which were only 25 feet away. The docks stretched approximately 100 feet along the shoreline, where upwards of two dozen boats were secured. Angling to the right, he headed for a white and blue, 25-foot cabin cruiser at the far end of the docks. After the zombie outbreak, there were plenty of boats left without owners. Connor had found this nice little gem a few miles down river on one of his supply runs. Doug had helped him tow the boat back to the complex, and after a small amount of tinkering, he had the engine running smoothly again. The boat was perfect for him. It had an enclosed cabin, a 250HP inboard motor, and a railing around the front deck area. And best of all, he could drop anchor and sleep on the boat if he needed too, which had happened before. Not many places were safer than sitting in the middle of water.
Nearing the boat, he stopped short as he noticed movement inside the cabin. Pulling the M48 from the sheath on his side, he deftly climbed aboard and threw open the cabin door.
“What the hell are you doing in here?” he exclaimed.
Diana came sliding to a halt as the trail hit the end of the tree line. Across the field to her right she could see the forms of dozens of zombies moving through the thinning fog in her direction, not more than 50 feet away. And now they saw her.
Without hesitation she turned left and headed north on the trail, following it as it headed back into the trees. She had only run a few hundred feet when the trail intersected the banks of the railroad tracks for a few yards before heading back into the woods. Glancing behind her, she made her choice. Climbing down the slope, she reached the fence that ran along the property line and jumped over it. Moving as fast as her legs could carry her, she turned east and started running down the tracks.
Jamison and Smith ran along the trail in pursuit of the person, watching the trees closely for any sign of the undead. The swarm was behind them, but the gunshot was a dinner bell for any zombie in hearing range. They had to be ready to slow to a walk at the first sign of undead, or risk being discovered. The figure in the fog had taken off running after Smith’s ill-advised discharge of his weapon, and up to this point they had been unable to catch up. They hadn’t caught another glimpse of them since the first sighting, but they were able to see signs that the person was still on the trail, with loosened rocks and broken twigs evident along the way. By their estimate, they weren’t far behind.
The fog was continuing to slowly thin out as they raced through the woods. Ahead they could see that the trail hit the tree line, and they could also see a figure moving in the mist, just beyond. Slowing to a walk, the two men simultaneously pulled their large hunting knives from the sheaths on their belts and cautiously moved forward. As they approached, the figure slowly moved away, just as another came into view. Then another. And another. Within a minute they could see dozens of zombies moving past the tree line in the direction of the train tracks.
Maintaining a slow walking pace, Morrow’s men emerged from the tree line and merged into the throngs of undead. This wasn’t the swarm, but it was a sizable horde, and it now appeared that they were all after the same thing - the mysterious person in the fog.
The horde was large, but the zombies were spread out enough for the men to easily move through them without incident. It was slow going, but after three or four minutes, the men had reached the tree line across the field and were again moving quickly. Passing through the trees, the men soon found themselves on a road that passed in front of a row of houses on the right. Seeing no sign of zombies, the men broke into a sprint, hoping to catch some sign of the elusive figure.
The men had only run a short distance when the first of the zombies emerged from between the houses.
The creature let out a horrifying moan as it headed towards them. Moments later the moan was answered by a dozen more as the undead flowed from between the buildings. The two men had become careless in their drive to catch the girl, and now they were exposed. The undead had seen the movement and were locked onto them. The ZOMBIE OFF was useless now unless they could get out of sight of the zombies long enough to find a place to hide and stay motionless. If they couldn’t, they’d have to fight their way out of this.
Turning to their left, they looked to run for the cover of the trees to the north. Their hopes were dashed as they saw multiple shapes emerging through the fog, moans erupting from their undead throats.
The men were left with no choice. Turning, they sprinted down the road as the zombies from the houses closed in. By the time they reached the last structure, the men were surrounded by over 20 undead.
“We have to use the guns!” yelled Smith.
“Do it!” yelled Jamison.
The two men pulled their handguns and opened fire on the zombies. Back to back, they systematically targeted the closest undead first, calmly eliminating the threat. Brain matter flew as bullets ripped through the skulls of the zombies, bodies dropping with each gunshot.
“Help me clear a path,” screamed Jamison over the gunfire.
Spinning to the side of his partner, Smith joined in as the two cleared the last six zombies in the roadway.
“RUN!” yelled Jamison.
The two men took off running, jumping across the fallen bodies in the process. Smith went to leap over a fallen zombie just as the creature reached and grabbed his leg, throwing him off balance. Hitting the pavement, the man screamed in pain as the zombie, its right cheek and eye missing, rolled over and sank its teeth deep into his leg, tearing flesh and tendons. Blood sprayed from the wound as the man screamed and kicked at the creature, which kept its death grip on his leg. Wailing in panic, a gunshot rang out as the left side of the zombie’s head blew apart. Searing pain shot through Smith’s leg as he screamed for Jamison to help him. A second later, the pain stopped as a bullet ripped through his head.
Jamison only stopped for a second as the body of his partner slumped to the ground. He had been bitten. There was no coming back from that. Everyone living in this dead world knew it, and he just hoped that someone would do the same for him if it came down to it.
Turning, Jamison ran a short distance before coming to a T-intersection. He could see zombies up the road to his right, so he took off to the left in the direction of the train tracks, the moans of the remaining zombies fading as he fled.
Connor lowered his weapon and shook his head, a slight grin crossing his face. Doug sat up off the bench seat and dropped the motorcycle magazine he had been reading, a broad smile on his face. Next to him on the bench was a short sword. This weapon had a long, sleek, 20-inch blade and was a replica of the US marine leatherneck sword (at least that’s what Kennesaw Cutlery said). The weapon was powerful, but lightweight, and was easy to carry, and its leather handle provided a sure grip. Connor had given the weapon to Doug as a gift after they became friends.
The two had met shortly after the zombie outbreak hit, and despite Connors best efforts to remain reclusive, Doug just wouldn’t have it. Every person within the complex steered clear of Connor. Every person except Doug. Eventually Connor came to enjoy his company, and after a few months the two had become good friends. For Connor, Doug was his only friend.
Doug was short, sporting a short haircut and a scruffy beard. When they first met he had a bit of a beer belly, but that had quickly dwindled after the apocalypse hit. Now he was lean and fit, joking that something good did come out of all this.
It was Doug’s sense of humor that Connor liked most about him. He rarely walked away without a smile on his face when they talked, and Connor didn’t smile all that often.
“Hey buddy. How ya doing?” Doug said, sporting his trademark smile.
“Doug. What are you doing here?” Connor asked in a slightly perturbed voice.
“Just came by to check on you before your mission. You kinda freaked me out a little last night. I just wanted to make sure everything was OK.”
“I’m fine. There’s nothing to worry about.”
“Hey, I saw the look in your face last night. Something was going on with you.”
“Look, I’m fine, Doug. Really.”
“OK. If you don’t want to talk, I get it. But if you change your mind, I’ll listen.”
“I’ll keep that in mind,” Connor said, moving past his friend.
Setting his bag down on the bench seat, he took out the CD’s and placed them in a small storage area near the drivers seat. Doug jumped up and hurried over to see what he had.
“Iron Maiden?” he asked, a surprised look on his face.
“Why not?” answered Connor. “Gets me pumped up for the mission”.
Doug just smiled and thumbed through the others.
“RUSH . . . DIO . . . good choices. Some of my favorites.”
“Can’t go wrong with The Holy Triumvirate,” said Connor smiling broadly. “They’re for the trip home.”
“Speaking of the mission,” said Doug, his face turning serious. “Are you seriously going into the city? Alone?”
“You know how I work, Doug. Relax, I’ll be fine. Besides, I got enough ZOMBIE OFF to get me through.”
“A lot can go wrong in the city, even with ZOMBIE OFF. You know that.”
“Trust me, I know. I can handle myself just fine, so would you stop worrying. I have it all figured out. I’ll be in and out and back before dark.”
“Rumor has it you’re going to the hospitals.” Doug said, staring down Connor.
Connor stopped his equipment check and turned to face his friend.
“By the way, I never got a chance to thank you for helping me last night. You did a good thing saving those kids.”
“Any time, pal. But you’re the one who should be thanked. The whole family would be dead if it weren’t for you.”
“Somebody had to do something.”
“You took a big risk running headlong into that many Z’s. That was a bit crazy, even for someone with your skills.”
“Like I said, somebody had to help them. I couldn’t just stand there and watch them die.”
“I hear ya. I’m just saying you got away with one.”
“Maybe I did,” said Connor, looking away.
“Now, back to my question. Are you hitting the hospitals?” Doug asked again, arms crossed.
“Man, you just never let up, do you?”
“Nope. So just answer the damn question.”
“Fine. Yes, I’m hitting the hospitals.”
“You crazy son-of-a-bitch. You got some kind of death wish? It’s not bad enough that you’re heading into a city of 700,000 or more zombies, but you’ve decided to ramp it up a notch and go to the one place in the city where the highest concentration of undead can be found. And for the cherry on top, you’re going to do it alone.”
Doug just shook his head and flopped back down on the bench seat, an exasperated look on his face.
As Connor turned to his friend, his words were cut short by the sound of multiple gunshots echoing across the water.
Diana sprinted down the tracks, glancing over her shoulder every 30 seconds or so as she ran, worried that she had been seen climbing the fence to the tracks. So far she didn’t see anyone, but the fog hadn’t completely burned off yet, and there could still be someone behind her, just out of sight range.
Running on the tracks wasn’t easy. She had to slow her pace somewhat to avoid twisting an ankle or falling as she tried to run across the railroad ties and gravel. After a few minutes of running, she could see the outline of a bridge appearing in the distance, which she realized must be the route 422 crossing over the Schuylkill River. As she approached the bridge, she suddenly heard gunshots ring out from somewhere to her right, and th
ey sounded close.
Adrenaline kicked in as she picked up her pace, racing toward the bridge. As she approached, she realized that there was a smaller bridge before the 422 overpass, and there were figures moving on the span. She didn’t slow down, figuring the zombies were of no threat since they were so far above her. It wasn’t until she was almost under it that she realized the figures weren’t zombies at all. They were men. And one of them just saw her.
Morrow’s men stood atop the bridge, talking about what their next move was in their search for the girl. They had only been there for a few minutes when they suddenly heard gunfire erupt. The shots were close, very close. Pulling their own side arms from inside their jumpsuits, the men turned to investigate. As they headed off the bridge, the trailing man glanced to his right, just as a figure emerged from the fog below him. The girl was running on the tracks as she stopped and looked up, hesitating for only a second as she bolted under the bridge. The man placed his fingers to his mouth and whistled sharply, causing his cohorts to spin about, questioning looks on their face.
“The girl!” screamed their partner.
The leader of the group took immediate action.
“You, check the gunshots,” he said, pointing to the closest man.
“You two, with me!” he yelled.
Turning, the three men dashed across the road to a trail that led to the tracks. As they hit the dirt path, they saw the girl sprinting on the tracks below them.
“We got you now, bitch,” muttered the leader as they slid down the bank.
Exchanging glances, Doug and Connor rushed off the boat and onto the dock, straining to see through the fog for any sign of activity, gunshots continuing to echo through the air. The fog was thinning, but any longer visibility was still difficult. They could see the tree line of the opposite bank, but couldn’t see anything beyond it, leaving them wondering where the gunshots where coming from, and why.
Unable to see anything, Connor turned to Doug.
“What say we take a quick ride up river and see what’s doing? I can spare a few minutes.”
“Count me in,” said Doug.
The amount of gunshots they heard weren’t normal for the area near the complex. This gave the two cause for concern. Something big was going down for that many shots to be fired, and they needed to determine if it was a threat to their safe zone.
Doug untied the boat from the dock as Connor fired up the inboard motor, then quickly jumped aboard as his friend eased the throttle forward and turned the boat upstream. Grabbing the seat next to Connor, Doug sat down, starring intently at the far bank as they slowly moved upriver.
“What do you make of all those gunshots?” Doug asked.
“Not sure, but with that many shots being fired, it can’t be good.”
Connor slowly eased the boat along the north side of the river as they headed upstream. He didn’t feel safe getting close to the far bank until he had a better idea of what was going on. They had only traveled a few hundred yards when they suddenly heard more gunshots, but these were much closer. Looking to their left, they could see the muzzle flashes as more shots rang out. Thirty seconds later they heard a splash as something big hit the water behind them. Turning the boat, the two were shocked to see a figure in the river, frantically trying to swim through the water as the current pulled them quickly downstream. Within moments, they could see the person was in trouble.
Turning the boat, Connor gunned the engine as he raced to the aid of the drowning figure.
Diana froze momentarily as she locked eyes with the man on the bridge. Bolting forward, she heard the man whistle as she raced down the tracks, panic rising inside her. Seconds later, she could hear shouts as the men gave pursuit. Running for her life, she glanced over her shoulder just in time to see three men scramble from the embankment and onto the tracks behind her. Moments later, the sound of gunshots rang out as she ducked her head and fell to the ground. In a flash she was off the tracks and scrambling through the trees on the banks of the river. Throwing her supply bag to the side, she never broke stride as she launched herself into the river, the frigid water knocking the breath from her lungs on impact.
Diana was a good swimmer, but she was in full clothing and the current was strong. Struggling against the flow, she tried desperately to swim to the far shore, but her strength was quickly failing her. Tired from her desperate flight, exhaustion overtook her as she felt herself being pulled under the surface. The last thing she saw before she went under was the white blur of a boat racing towards her.
Morrow’s men scrambled down the slope and rushed onto the tracks. They could see the girl running into the fog about a hundred yards ahead of them as they sprinted after her. Two minutes into the chase and the leader stopped, anger on his face.
“Bring her down,” he yelled.
The three men pulled their weapons and opened fire as the girl sprinted ahead. They saw the figure stumble and fall, believing they had hit their mark, but seconds later the figure was up and dashing for the trees.
“She’s heading for the water!” one of the men yelled.
As the men neared the trees, they heard the splash of water as the girl plunged head long into the river.
Doug was already pulling his shirt off as the boat raced towards the bobbing figure. Grabbing a life jacket from under the bench seat, he yelled to Connor.
“Get me close, and fast! He’s going under!”
Connor raced the boat forward as the struggling figure disappeared from view just feet ahead of them. Doug didn’t wait for the boat to slow as he leapt into the water after the mystery person. Seconds later, the figure bobbed back to the surface, gasping for air, just feet from Doug. A few quick strokes and he had the person in his grasp, sweeping an arm across their chest and rolling them onto their back to keep their head above water.
Connor, meanwhile, maneuvered the boat to intercept the floating pair. A few powerful strokes and Doug was at the boat, clinging to the small ladder at the stern. Connor abandoned the controls and raced to the back to help retrieve the pair from the water. Reaching down, he pulled the limp figure from the river and onto the boat as Doug pulled himself up the ladder.
Laying the person down, he was shocked to see it was a young woman. Coughing up water, she blinked in confusion at her new situation, eyes growing wide with fear as she regained her bearings.
“We’re not going to hurt you,” said Connor, seeing the fear in her eyes.
The girl smiled briefly as she looked at the two, then collapsed into Connor’s arms, unconscious, as the weight of the recent events overcame her. Doug was just about to speak when a bullet shattered the glass of the cabin, the two instinctively diving for cover.
“Get us out of here, Connor!” screamed Doug.
“I’m on it!”
Connor crawled to the controls and jumped into the drivers seat, keeping his head low. Slamming the throttle down, the bow of the boat rose in the water as the powerful inboard engine kicked in and the boat sped off, weaving in the water to avoid the gunfire.
Connor kept the boat maxed out for a good two minutes before he eased back on the throttle and cut the engine. Rushing below deck, he grabbed some blankets and rushed to his friend’s side.
“Let’s cover her up and get her below deck. I think we’re safe for the time being.”
“You got some blankets for me too?” asked Doug.
“There are plenty down there. Get yourself dried off and warmed up while I get these wet clothes off of her. She’ll get hypothermia if I don’t.”
Connor proceeded to remove the girl’s clothes down to her underwear, having to resort to cutting off some of it due to the duct tape armor.
“What the hell has she been up too?” he muttered as he cut through the layers of tape.
Picking her up, he carried her to a small bed and laid her down, covering her with blankets before heading back on deck.
“Keep an eye
on her, Doug. I’m going to get us going again.”
“Where are we headed?” Doug asked.
“The city,” he said, disappearing above deck.
Shivering, Doug just stared after him.
“Shit,” he muttered.
