by Steve Wands
Eddie looked from the vehicles back to the school, wondering if they could make it back. There was still thirty of forty of those things near the front and more coming from behind and to the side. It was too risky, but was it riskier to get back on the road, he wondered.
Ben began working his way through the flesh-eating creatures, knocking them down and out of the way so he could get to the roof access. It was impossible for him to reach the door to the school, and he was in no shape to climb the fence and face what wait in the darkness, so he figured it was the next best thing. His captors may have not done the best job tying him up or checking him, but they did a good job at beating the hell out of him.
As the convoy waited for Shorty, some of the dead creatures from the front saw the convoy and began moving in their direction. Ben had made it to the roof and was surprised to see how well the plan had come together. He laughed with wholehearted sincerity, then raised his gun and began firing. A bullet pierced through Jon-Jon's van, finding a home in Damian's shoulder. Another ripped through one of the children's throats that sat in Alexis's car. Yet another shattered the windshield of Julio's truck.
All heads turned to the roof to see Ben firing away at random. Ben fired again, hitting nothing but the night air before his gun clicked on empty chambers, dry firing at the survivors.
Gerty, weak and out of breath, stepped from her car and fired at him repeatedly, nearly collapsing from exhaustion in the process. One of her shots hit its mark. Ben fell backward, clutching at his gut. Gerty clutched at her chest, gasping for air. She wasn't certain, but thought she may have ripped her wound open. She pressed the pad to her chest, and fought to steady her haggard breaths.
The girl that had been shot in the throat came back after having only been dead for just under a minute. The others in the car had barely been able to get out with their belongings by the time she came to unlife.
Alexis rushed the other two children, Yussef and Stacey, to Jon-Jon's van. The three of them jumped in, leaving the dead girl in the car with it still running. Damian blocked out the pain as he helped the kids inside. It was a tight fit, but they would make it work.
Gerty got back in her SUV, taking a moment to catch her breath. Her breathing had become labored. And though the others noticed it, they kept it to themselves and chalked it up to her being out of shape and exhausted.
Assuming the worst, that Shorty was dead, Eddie led the convoy away from the school. The dead followed slowly behind, Shorty now among them. Ben lay on the roof of the school holding his gut. Through his fingers ran red rivers of blood. He knew his time was short, but he didn't care. He was looking forward to seeing what life was like on the other side. He was looking forward to tasting human flesh again.
CHAPTER 13: Two for the road
Eddie led the convoy through devastated suburban streets much like the ones he left behind, in a past life. A life that seemed as much a dream now as his dreams did then. They passed burned out cars, boarded up homes, and dozens upon dozens of dead people that staggered through the streets looking for something to devour.
They passed a large bus that sat upside down, half-in and half-out of the road. Smears of blood were visible on the inside of the few windows that remained intact. Every street was like the one before it. The blood left behind had stories to tell but no one had the time to read them. They were stories of struggle, that was for certain, whether they were tragic or triumphant no one would ever know.
To put his mind at ease, Eddie told himself that those boarded up homes had survivors inside. They were having apocalypse parties and sipping wine and eating fancy cheeses. Life was good beyond the boards, he thought. They were sheltered and secure, and playing Monopoly. They came across a few swarms that they needed to drive through to continue moving, so they did. But what damage it had done to their vehicles they wouldn't know.
Whether tired, delirious or both, Eddie swore he saw a ghost. As he continued driving the feeling came back repeatedly, even to the point where he thought he drove through one. No one else in the vehicle had mentioned anything, so he kept the thought to himself.
With no particular destination in mind they drove on, heading in the general direction of Titan City. Eddie stumbled upon a desolate road, free from housing developments. It looked like the start of an industrial complex but ended abruptly due to a train lying dormant on the tracks that cut the road in half. They turned around, heading back into the previous development in a quiet and dreadful little round trip. The people that comprised the convoy stared hopelessly out the window at a world they could no longer recognize.
Eddie heard the rapid sounds of automatic gunfire. He turned to see if anyone else could hear it. They did. They looked around for the source of the gunfire. But before they could find the source, the source found Gerty's SUV.
A military Humvee barreled into Gerty's SUV, caving in the entire side of the truck and sending it into a roll. The sounds of twisted metal and shattering glass broke through the noise of the night and would surely alert the dead to where they could find a fresh meal. The SUV landed on its topside as the convoy came to an abrupt stop, with many rushing out of their vehicles.
Inside the SUV Gerty wheezed her agonizing last breath. Many of her bones had been crushed on impact---it was a miracle she remained conscious at all. Corey, who was in the passenger seat, hung from his seatbelt with blood, and drool coming from his now mostly toothless mouth. His face was badly smashed, and he was surely bleeding internally. He couldn't move his arm, nor could he feel anything below his aching chest.
A woman from Corey's group, Lana, died on impact. She was in her late sixties, and ever since her husband passed years ago she wanted a peaceful death so she could be with him again. She never knew what happened. It was not peaceful, but at least it was quick. Next to her was another woman, one that had traveled with Gerty's group of survivors for a number of days. She had barely been more than a dead thing herself, having hardly muttered a word in the entire time she came to travel with these people. She never really did anything besides bite her nails and twitch nervously. No one remembered her name, if she ever gave it. She was awake, confused and terrified as the smell of gasoline burned her nose. No matter how hard she tried she couldn't get out of the vehicle. The door was so badly damaged it wouldn't move.
The Humvee remained upright. The driver lay slumped over the steering wheel. A man staggered out of the passenger side seat, holding his head, while another emerged from the rear of the driver-side rubbing his neck. Julio raced to Gerty's overturned wreck to help his friend Corey. Once he got a look at his condition, he pulled out his gun and walked over to the two soldiers.
"You mothafuckers!" Julio screamed, pointing the gun at the closest soldier.
"Easy, man," the one said. "It was just an accident," he proclaimed.
"Accident? I don't fucking care! You killed my friend," he screamed. His eyes were rimmed with hateful, angry tears that could've been venom.
Julio shot the soldier in the face, spattering blood on his self as well as the other soldier next to him. Eddie came behind Julio and snatched his gun quickly before he could fire again. The other soldier dropped to his knees crying. Those that gathered around never thought they'd see a soldier do such a thing. He took off his helmet, and his young face betrayed his uniform. He was only a kid.
"It was an accident. I'm so sorry. We were just fucking around, getting drunk. We haven't seen any other people in days," the kid soldier broke down into tears.
"Please, tell me you're ARMY," Eddie spoke.
"No. We found them at the recruiting office," he confessed. "It's where we stole the Humvee, and the guns. No one was there. We just took the shit."
Jon-Jon turned to look at the wreck. Through the mangled metal and shattered glass, he could see Gerty with a mouthful of flesh. They were all dead inside, yet they continued to move. No one was near the truck. He took aim at the gas tank and fired a shot. There was a small initial spark of an explosion, eno
ugh to set the wreck to fire. It burned bright and hot.
"Let's move," Jon-Jon suggested. "We'll be surrounded if we stay any longer."
"What about them," Eddie asked.
"Leave'em," Jon-Jon said coldly.
"He deserves to die," said Julio.
"We didn't mean it," the boy cried.
His dead friend began to twitch back from the brink of death. Eddie filled the twitching creature's head full of bullets; the blood blew back on to him, and onto the crying boy who played soldier.
The driver of the Humvee began to stir. He lifted his head, blood spilling from his nose. Some of his teeth were missing, and his face was swollen. He looked out at the scene with blurred vision, not knowing what was happening. He pulled a gun from his side and took aim at Eddie---the only man he could see holding a weapon. He saw his friend dead, and his other friend on his knees crying. Anger moved his pains to the back of his mind. He shakily took aim and pulled the trigger. A three-round burst of fire cracked through the air.
Julio turned to the driver and charged at him with empty fists, but Jon-Jon's bullet beat him there. The driver slumped back, his hands clutching at his chest as blood gurgled up from the bottom of his throat. Dead things began to descend upon the area, though not many. And more would follow.
Damian was reluctant to leave the van. His wound continued to bleed but he wanted to be of help. Once he got out he could see that Julio was visibly shaken up. And when he could see the aftermath he knew why---he wished he had gotten out of the van sooner.
He ran to Julio's side, gun drawn. Though the driver was dead, Julio reached inside to pry the gun from his hands. It was an M162A Rifle, which was deceivingly light, though quite impressive to look at and hold. Julio felt an immediate surge of confidence. He turned to look at the crying mess of a drunken kid who stayed slumped down on his knees.
"Get up," Julio called to him.
Eddie turned to Julio. "What are you doing?" he asked quietly.
Julio ignored him. "Get up!" he yelled at the boy.
The boy refused to meet his gaze. "I don't want to die," he whimpered.
"Don't do this," Damian said, but remained at his side.
"I'm not doing anything. He is," Julio pointed at the boy who was now standing on rubbery legs. "Good, now take you're dead friend's gun over there," he told him.
The boy listened. He moved as slowly as the dead things that approached.
"Good, now shoot your friend in the face till he dies again," Julio ordered. He pointed at the driver of the Humvee whose dead hands tried to open the door.
The boy looked at him, his sorrowful eyes expressing a new emotion: disgust.
"Shoot him in the fucking face," Julio screamed.
The boy followed orders. He shot his friend repeatedly in the face, leaving nothing but a pile of red mush on top of his dead shoulders. Julio smiled, then raised his new weapon and shot the boy dead with a three round burst of gunfire. Several people screamed in opposition, but their protests couldn't stop the bullets.
"You're on your own," Eddie said. "You ain't coming with us," he said, holding his gun steadily in the direction of Julio's face.
"That's fine," Julio said, "I'm better off without you clowns. Been downhill ever since we met yall."
Julio looked at his friend Damian. He could tell he didn't approve of what just happened, but it was too late to take it back. He walked back to his truck. Damian looked at the faces of the new friends he made on the road, clearly sorry for his friends' actions. He shook Eddie's hand, and then Jon-Jon's and waived at the rest of them. He hopped in with Julio as the other people in his truck left, finding refuge with the others who would stay with the convoy.
"You know you're welcome to stick with us," Eddie called out.
Damian heard the words, but could only nod. He knew he was welcome to stay, but his loyalty was to his friend. Julio pulled the truck out of line and headed away as fast as his four wheels would take them.
The convoy drove off again, leaving nothing but regrets and the dead behind. The dead were too slow to follow. The dead boy who found it fun to play soldier rose from the tear-stained dirt and followed along with the other dead things.
CHAPTER 14: Tomorrow never knows
West Virginia.
Mount Weather Special Facility.
In the deep recesses of The Mount Weather Special Facilities a woman by the name of Rachel Lucas, a biologist of some note, is examining the reanimated cadaver of a young soldier. She is dressed in a canary yellow hazmat suit with a clear visor and breathing apparatus. A similarly clad armed guard stands just outside of her room looking in through a large window.
There are thirteen other such rooms on the floor.
Rachel speaks into a recorder attached to her clothing. Her specimen is strapped down securely to an examining table with his arms and legs spread. The specimen's head is strapped down but it has full mobility of its jaw. Rachel has already taken blood, tissue, saliva, and all other possible samples from the specimen for examination later.
She circles the creature slowly, paying close attention to physical movements. She has orally noted, by way of her recorder, any and all observations, no matter how minor they may appear to be. There is also a video recorder set up in the corner of the room
She has worked for many days on her current specimen, seemingly without rest, but with very little to show for her efforts. She is expected, by her superiors, to have an explanation for things that cannot be reasonably explained.
The specimen moans, his eyes follow her around the room. They are yellowed and dry, the blue color of his irises muted and nearly disappearing. The dead soldier moaned again, this time for a longer period of time. "Yyyrrrrrrrrgggggnnnuhhhh," is how it would be spelled if the sounds could be turned into letters.
She notes the verbalization and continues to spiral around the room. Her recorder beeps to let her know its memory is nearing capacity. The recorder appears to malfunction as it begins playback in reverse. Rachel hears a word she does not recall saying, and a big bright light bulb turns on in the back of her head.
She rushes out of the room to her computer, where she has downloaded all of her digital audio notes and can access her video recordings. Rachel begins to systematically review all of her notes in reverse playback, isolating the audio segments in which the specimen can be heard verbalizing. She has a small yellow paper pad next to her mouse and a black fine point pen. She writes down a number of words: pain, hungry, help, brains, flesh, meat, need, hell, hurts. Rachel, though not entirely convinced, believes that her dead specimen is communicating.
She listens to the segments repeatedly, and hears the words again. It's not her weary mind playing tricks, the words are there. Distorted? Yes, but there all the same. She's reminded of her youth when her and her older brother would spin their records in reverse in an attempt to hear satanic messages that never appeared. It would seem now the message had finally arrived.
She wants to share her findings with her colleagues and superiors, but knows that she has to have something more solid than a random series of words. Rachel suits up one more time to enter the examination room. She has a new recorder with a fully charged battery, and a number of questions to ask the dead soldier.
Rachel was never much for questions. She always preferred to find the answers for herself. Even in college when she was encouraged to ask questions she often hesitated, she'd much rather be the one to answer them.
This time was different though. Now she couldn't wait to ask her specimen a number of things. She only hoped he could understand her. She pulled a steel chair from the corner of the room and situated it in such a way that she could make eye contact with her specimen.
"Hello," she started, "can you understand me?"
The creature looked her in the eyes, moving its jaw in a biting motion. Rachel repeated her words exactly.
"Sssseyyy," the dead thing croaked.
Rachel played back her recorder and nearly
jumped off her seat once she heard his response. She was slightly more disturbed now, more than she had ever been since the dawning of the dead things.
"What is your name?"
"Ssseellemmmmaaann," the soldier hissed.
"You don't remember your name?"
"Nnnnnn," it said.
"What do you want?"
"Hssselffffeeffiiilllll."
Rachel had a sick feeling building up in her stomach. It soured her throat and made her heart beat rapidly.
"Why do you want life...and...flesh?" Rachel asked.
" Nnnniiiuurrrnniiappppppeessaee."
"What do you mean?"
"Yyyrrrrgggggnnuhhh," it rasped.
"If I feed you, will you answer my question?"
The dead soldier was silent for a moment, then garbled a sound, "Ssseey." It didn't sound like anything more than a primal grunt, more like a hissing, really. But once Rachel played it back she believed he said 'yes'.
Rachel shuddered and left the room again. She entered a larger room with additional specimens, limbs, and equipment. There were several guards, one for each specimen, and three lab technicians all in the same get up that Rachel wore.
She filled out a request for human tissue samples and handed the sheet to one of the technicians. He nodded and held out an extended hand in a gesture to a specimen that was strapped to an examination table. The specimen, an elderly female, had already been sampled. She had missing limbs, organs, skin, muscle tissue, you name it and it was sampled. She was a veritable buffet table of undead delicacies. Rachel pulled forth a small container and a scalpel and began to carve slices of her belly away.
She made sure to get a variety of selections and put them neatly into the container, all while the creature watched her with the one eye that hadn't been sampled yet. The specimen seemed almost sad, though Rachel had never witnessed any of them express emotion and realized she was projecting her own feelings instead.
