Road to Grissom: Part three of the Aftermath series

by Duncan McArdle

  To the North of John’s position however was the most interesting sight. Just barely noticeable over the horizon and invisible to the naked eye, was the skyline of Milwaukee, somewhere John had called home until only recently. The city’s tallest buildings only just came into view with even the most powerful of binoculars – which John had quickly produced from the backpack he’d escorted up the tower – and gave little information as to the state of the area. But a lack of smoke was a good enough sign for John, and helped put a tick in the box of that same task he did every time he ascended that same radio tower.

  Having now fully acclimatised to the heights of his new location, Danny could once more catch his breath and begin to almost enjoy the incredible views that surrounded him. Scanning the inland areas to the west, then the south, then the vast body of water that dominated the eastern and northern areas, Danny took in every ounce of the view, before finally resting on the sight of a still hooded man – a remarkable thing given the high winds that this altitude brought with it – staring through a pair of binoculars at something so far away Danny couldn’t even see.

  “How’s it look?”, Danny asked, knowing full well what John was looking at despite not being able to see it himself.

  “No idea”, John replied honestly, “But it aint’ on fire, and that’s something.”

  John’s interest in the state of his former settlement was well known. Almost everyone at the camp knew of the Milwaukee car-park, spotted numerous times during supply runs and debated regularly at the camp’s meetings. Numerous residents had wanted to offer sanctuary to the Milwaukee residents, seeing them as nothing more than other folk surviving in much the same way they were. But in the end, fear had gotten the best of people, and votes to visit the camp had regularly failed. That was of course, until John had emerged on their very own dock.

  Now the majority of Milwaukee’s residents had relocated to Chicago, and the previously bustling seaside sanctuary was now in use only as a gathering point for those seeking help but unable to get to Chicago, as well as whatever stragglers remained who were still awaiting transport. The Milwaukee residents had been welcomed in with open arms, and in the majority of cases had integrated well, but those in charge had decided that going slow and steady was key, so Sonja and Lester – the founders of the Milwaukee camp – as well as Andrew – John’s former sidekick and trusted friend – and his family, had all opted to remain, until the final boat of residents could be sent across.

  “How about looking a little more inland”, Danny interrupted, John clearly a million miles away, no doubt imagining what state the car-park might presently be in, and pondering the fate of his former friends.

  “Right”, he replied, knowing they’d come here for a specific reason, and that inspecting his previous home wasn’t it, “Let me show you how this works”.

  The radio tower had been a revelation for the Chicago settlement. They’d spent weeks fortifying the walls and months establishing the kind of infrastructure needed to create an environment where people could survive, irrespective of whether they were young and able, or old and decrepit. But the camp had struggled to find anybody still alive in the local area, meaning the many residential buildings stood empty, and the plethora of supplies went unused. Then one day, when out clearing one of the upper floors of the WG, Geoff himself had discovered the radio tower – secured with little more than a padlock and some flimsy chain that was promptly broken off – towering above the entire camp.

  Geoff had originally envisioned the tower being used only as a lookout, its height and position in the city making for the perfect spot to maintain eyes on the local areas every movement. But the reality was that although it was the perfect spot for viewing their surroundings, there simply wasn’t enough happening that wasn’t already visible from ground level. There was little reason to station a guard up top at all times, when that same guard could be down below helping repel another attack or out on supply runs. So, it was decided that the tower would not become a permanent lookout post, but would instead be used for something it was much better suited to; broadcasting.

  Few people could agree on who came up with the idea first, but as everyone certainly could agree on the merits of the idea, a message was quickly recorded using some of the audio gear recovered from a local radio station, and the message was transported to the top of the tower, where an emergency override system allowed any recording to be placed on loop, an ability intended for use in the event of a natural disaster that might remove access to the station.

  Originally, the message had simply invited anybody that could hear it to make their way to Chicago. They were promised sanctuary and supplies, and told that nothing would be expected of them in return. But unfortunately, this had led to two fairly predictable outcomes; the good had tried to approach the still severely infested city, and failed to reach the camp, and the bad had reached the camp with bad intentions.

  Accordingly, the message was soon altered into its current form, instructing those that wished to make a home for themselves in Chicago to approach by water. This meant that there was a significantly reduced risk of running into the undead on the journey, but also deterred your everyday bandit or raider from attempting to attack, due to the ease with which they could be spotted out on the water. Of course, one downside of the adjusted approach was the reduced influx of people caused by the ever-dwindling availability of boats, but in reality, this had actually helped to keep migration to a more manageable level.

  The final change to the broadcasted message had been to add on the current date. After numerous new arrivals had stumbled in spouting phrases such as “We didn’t know if you were still here” and “Others stayed behind, they said you’d be dead!”, it had become clear that something more current needed to be sent out. So the amendment was made, reassuring potential dwellers that they were indeed still welcome, and that message had since been updated every day, on all but a few occasions – the worst of which had come during a multi-day attack by a particularly large grouping of the undead, something the camp was in the midst of dealing with upon John’s arrival.

  “There”, John announced, having swapped out the existing recording for the new one and restarted the broadcast, announcing his every action as he went along in order to educate Danny.

  “So what happens with yesterday’s recording?”, the younger man asked, watching John place the CD into his backpack.

  “We record tomorrow’s message over the top of it, then someone brings it up and does this whole thing again”, John explained, “It’s all pretty simple really, just a pain in the ass getting up here”.

  “So why not change the broadcast from the station?”, Danny questioned.

  “Well”, John began with a slight huff, annoyed by the answer, “The station needs a lot of power to run, so it’s a whole lot more efficient to just swap it over up here and never power the place up”.

  “Right”, Danny said, content he had enough answers on the subject and now happy to grab the binoculars from the ground and set about having a go of the high-powered item himself, “Sure would be easier though”, he said, before placing his eyes up against the lenses.

  Being somewhat native to the local area – and certainly more of a local than John – Danny set about inspecting the various local townships and distant cities that he recognised. Adjusting the zoom regularly on the seemingly military grade device, Danny fiddled with the focus with as much precision as he could manage, but more often than not found the exact same view greeting him. Grey, death filled and still, almost every single part of the tristate area looked much the same as the last, and most people were fairly certain that the rest of the USA – and indeed the world – looked no different.

  But one particular thing did catch Danny’s eye, because although the world remained grey and full of little more than death and destruction, movement always stuck out.

  “I see something”, he announced, only somewhat happily.

  “What is it?”, John
asked, himself having set about packing up his bag in preparation to leave.

  “Not sure”, Danny stated, pulling briefly away from the binoculars to confirm the rough area in which he was looking, “But it’s moving”, he added.

  John hurried over to Danny’s side of the platform and began scanning the region to which the binoculars faced, though he doubted he would see much.

  “Shit, I lost it”, Danny announced having just looked back through the lenses.

  Nervously John grabbed the binoculars and thrust them up to his own eyes, searching feverishly for something he knew very well may not even exist. But then, sweeping across a seemingly unremarkable landscape, John too caught sight of movement.

  “It’s a horde”, he announced, “But not like one I’ve ever seen before”.

  “That thing was a horde!?”, Danny asked in shock, knowing that something that size, if made up entirely of the undead, must be numbering in the tens of thousands.

  “Think so”, John confirmed, “Looks like they’re headed north west though, should go straight by us”.

  “And Milwaukee?”, Danny asked, knowing it would be something playing on John’s mind.

  “There too”, John said.

  “Makes you wonder where they’ve come from”, Danny began once more, “I mean there’s not much behind them that-“.

  A single shot tore a slice right through the current situation and stole the attention of both men.

  “Was that-“, Danny began to ask, just as a second shot rang out, seemingly small arms fire but gunfire nevertheless, the second sound having pinpointed it to being almost directly below, and therefore within the confines of the camp.

  “Let’s go”, John announced, throwing on the backpack and bolting towards the ladder, “NOW!”.

  Chapter 5: Chaos theory

  In a town where nothing much of anything ever really happens, it takes little to spark the interest of the masses. Minor deviation from the norm such as a new type of canned food being discovered can lead to huge crowds rushing the supply store, and a plane going overhead can send everyone into days of lengthy discussions. So it came as no surprise to anybody that upon hearing something as prominent as gunshots – and from within the confides of the camp’s walls no less – at a moment where no culling of the undead was scheduled, large crowds gathered immediately.

  Having descended both the radio tower and its supporting building in what he was fairly certain was record time, John emerged with great speed from the darkened depths of the building out into the street. Although briefly blinded by the dazzling change in lighting, John quickly got to grips with his surroundings and began that oh so important analysis of the situation, as keen as he always was not to jump the gun on anything.

  The mass of bodies – all of them living for a change – in front numbered well past fifty, and obscured anything informative from John’s immediate eye line. It seemed as if just about every single person within range had converged on this single spot, adamant they be the first to know what had happened, and more were coming from every direction. John however, had a benefit over the rest of those trying to get to the front of the group.

  “GUARD COMING THROUGH!”, he yelled in an authoritative tone, tensing the grip he held on his pistol, should he need to fire a shot for attention, or anything worse.

  But there was thankfully no need for such measures. The crowd quickly moved to form a path for the hooded man that almost everyone there had met at least once before, and John was able to make his way quickly forwards.

  At the front of the crowd John found a number of things. The first and most apparent was the sight of two bodies, each of them sprawled out on the floor in a way John knew meant they’d been dead before they hit the ground. Their faces and arms were covered in scratches where they’d slid along the merciless asphalt below, and both figures – each of them male – were holding pistols in their rigor-mortis-infused grips.

  The first of the bodies was someone John recognised fairly quickly, albeit without a name to go with the face. One of the many guards who had already been stationed in Chicago before John’s arrival, he’d seen him in passing on numerous occasions, but had yet to get to know the man. Now though, with his dark brown hair matted and tangled in thick spills of blood, John was fairly certain he wasn’t going to get the chance to.

  The second man however was an unknown. The community at Chicago was large, but not so large you often ran into anybody unfamiliar, especially if you were a guard who was on regular duty. By that logic John found this second finding a little confusing. Was he new? Perhaps in the last day? And if so, just what exactly had he done to warrant such a quick exit from what most considered to be just about the best place left on Earth.

  Having inspected the two most prominent sights in front, John instead turned his attention to the loudest, in the form of a hysterical woman in her mid-thirties, presently bawling her eyes out at the front of the crowd as one of the other guards consoled her.

  “He just kept saying, ‘identify yourself!’, over and over again, that was all he said, ‘identify yourself!’, and then he just… he just turned around and…”, she explained, before breaking off into a tangent of emotions once more, “I just don’t understand why he didn’t listen!”.

  Just as John began to take in the situation, a more familiar voice came from behind.

  “Guard coming through, out my way would y- HEY, DO YOU MIND!?”, it yelled, growing quickly more agitated as it made its way closer, “Thank you!”.

  John turned to find Danny, his face dripping with sweat and his chest heaving heavily, standing just behind.

  “That’s a lot of steps!”, he announced upon his arrival, before hunching forwards and breathing loudly, “Everybody okay?”, he asked.

  “Everybody but these two”, John stated, turning back to look at the bodies in front.

  “Shit”, Danny replied matter-of-factly, “Who were they?”.

  “He was a guard”, John replied, nodding towards the first man, “Him I’m not sure about”, he added.

  “Well”, Danny started, having caught some but far from all of his breath, “Might not be related, but I saw a car out there right after you left, couple blocks from the western wall”.

  “A car?”, John said abruptly, snapping his gaze back to the much younger man, “What kind of car?”, he demanded.

  “I don’t know…”, Danny replied, “Just a car? It started turning around as soon as the shots went off, only reason I saw it was ‘cause it started moving quick, headed straight back off out of the city”, he explained.

  John turned back to face the bodies in front, an unfortunate combination of anger and concern present on his face. An unfamiliar face lying dead on the floor, a familiar face in the same condition just a few feet away, and an unknown vehicle turning and heading away from the camp the second things started to go wrong. It didn’t take a genius to work out what the most likely explanation was, though John knew better than to jump to conclusions.

  During the time John and Danny had been conversing, another familiar face had arrived. Flanked by a couple more guards who had no doubt been called into action when the gunshots were fired, Geoff had emerged and quickly gotten the lowdown on the situation from the guard consoling the distraught woman. If John hadn’t already been concerned that whatever had happened was serious, he certainly was now. Geoff didn’t deal with every single little hiccup in person, but he’d opted to turn up for this one.

  “John”, came the man’s voice from beside the crying woman, “With me”, he ordered.

  John had no issues following orders, especially when they came from the highest up position there was. Since his arrival at the camp he’d been entrusted with a tremendous amount of responsibility, far more than any of those that had come before him. The usual process of integration took weeks, and new members weren’t considered for guard position for months afterwards. But John had obviously been very different, as he’d not only been guarding the
wall within days, but he’d been leading teams of his fellow men not long afterwards. Now, some months into his residence in Chicago, he’d become the de facto right-hand-man of the commander-in-chief, a position he very much appreciated.

  “Talk to me”, Geoff insisted in a half-shouted tone, as John caught up and began walking alongside Geoff back in the direction of the WG, the nearby crowd continuing to grow both in volume and size.

  “Not sure I’m the best person to ask”, John replied, “Don’t think I fully understand it myself just yet”.

  “I know you better than that John”, Geoff pointed out, “And I saw your face change, something tells me you’re thinking exactly the same thing as me”.

  John remained silent, still not fully convinced of his own theory.

  “The only difference”, Geoff continued, “Is that I know we’re both right”.

  Before long the pair had made their way to the entrance of the WG, where security had been significantly ramped up. Numerous guards littered the entrance, and the general area downstairs had been emptied of residents. Passing through the checkpoint quickly, Geoff led John up the deactivated escalators and over to the improvised meeting area upstairs, where he eventually started to explain his former statement.

  “A few months ago, right after you arrived, we started getting reports from the scouts that vehicles were spotted all around this area”, Geoff began, “Then before long the guards started telling stories of seeing things moving in the distance, things they were sure weren’t biters. In the day they’d just say they saw reflections of sunlight, but at night they insisted it was headlights”.

  John remained quiet, knowing that this wasn’t yet the time for him to speak.

  “Now you and me both know how bad it is out there, so there’s no way someone gets that close to this place without getting swarmed, even with all the culls we’ve been doing”, Geoff continued, “If someone’s getting that near to this place, they’re doing it with some serious machinery”.