Detroit Reanimated

by Michael Halliday

  Once in a while, a carrion-eating animal would attempt to obtain meat from one of the fallen and immobile undead. It would cause a painfully slow however mad dash for the small animal. The sound of desperately starving soulless citizens fighting for a chance at it panicked the creature senseless. Growls and moans would spread throughout the camp. Like usual, it would soon die down once the animal was quickly consumed by the feasting mob.

  Massive anthills rose from the ground throughout the area and lines of ants moved to and from the mounds.

  The majority of the camp's remaining population was so deeply malnourished and weakened, that it would take hours to go through and destroy them all. Underneath one of the fallen tents lay a heavily eaten victim by the name of Lawrence. This was not the way the living version of the man had envisioned he would die.

  Some would say that Lawrence was the worst kind of bully. He was fully aware of the consequences and the pain he inflicted, but he would insult and belittle struggling and handicapped peers for the fun of it. In his junior year of high school, he spat at the crotch of a wheel chair bound freshman, named Lucas, who suffered severe cerebral palsy. Lawrence then leaned toward the boy menacingly.

  “I hope they don’t let a retarded freak like you breed.”

  Lawrence’s vulgar act was done right in front of Lucas’s aid and a childhood friend, named Waylon. Despite his physical limitations, Lucas was sharp as a tack. Some would say he was the next Stephen Hawking. Lucas cried for days after the incident, and soon after, he decided to merely give up. He never made it into his sophomore year.

  Waylon watched Lucas stop eating and dwindle away, and Lucas soon caught severe pneumonia which killed him from the extreme degradation of his immune system. Waylon had seen Lawrence in the hall at school after Lucas had died, approached the bully and spat at his crotch in return.

  “I hope a fucking asshole like you has a child like Lucas. Just so you know, he died because of what you said to him,” Waylon had said sharply.

  Now Lawrence lay prostrate and helpless. He wasn’t even actually alive. All that remained of him was mostly bone and scraps of flesh below the shoulders. No one who knew him would ever recognize him, from the taut and discolored skin on his face. His only benefit was the virus that made him into this thing prevented natural decomposition or nature's wrath. Carrion-devouring creatures had feasted on him after the other shamblers had their chance, leaving the man in such a pitiful state. The only thing he could move was his jaw and his discolored eyes.

  A carrion beetle had found its way into his mouth. Shortly after, it chewed its way through his cheek. There was no way for him to get it to stop taking bits and pieces from his face. Ants also worked on carrying his dried out flesh to their colonies. Flies and maggots had avoided him like the plague.

  He couldn’t hear the air horns. Nor could he see the hundreds of heads lift or turn in the direction of the noise. The ground trembled around him from the growing march toward the sound, and the basic savage instinct within him told him he wanted to move with it. The fact that he couldn’t created a fierce frenzy within his mind. His brain said the vibration may have been a source of sustenance.

  After some time, the vibration diminished into calmness. Abruptly, the sun was upon him, and his demented eyes self-adjusted. They fell on a single man, who studied him. He couldn’t hear what the man was saying, or if he was saying it to him. The man’s steel blue eyes focused on Lawrence’s, but the look of pity was quite present.

  The man snapped his fingers close to Lawrence’s face. He then waved a finger in front of him, but Lawrence stared directly at the man. The man looked over the shredded and disfigured remains of Lawrence’s face. What was left of his skin was taut and fragile.

  Soon, an African American woman joined him, and she briefly studied him, with a strong shake of her head. She said something to the man. A nasty bladed weapon was picked up from off the ground. The man pointed it at Lawrence’s left eye socket. A strong thrust drove the long-handled blade deep into Lawrence’s brain. The world went black for Lawrence for good.

  “I hope you had a good life... whoever you were,” Evan said to the ravaged shambler he had put down.

  Evan watched the squad members as they went from shambler to shambler with their spears. There were twenty groups of pairs that went through and destroyed the immobilized bodies and the extremely slow moving reanimated refugees. Four from the group began to pile bodies for burning. Before they attempted to pick up a single one, the person jammed a knife into the back of the skull to negate any chance of a mistake.

  “Evan, I think we can get to my tent. I see it on that rise over there,” August said.

  “Sure, let’s get moving.”

  Something was on her mind. Evan had spent enough time with her now to know some of her facial expressions. She was to Sarah what Cameron was to him, and they all began to get closer as the days went on.

  Evan whistled over to Cameron, Matt and Daniel. He motioned to Cameron that he and August were going to August’s tent. August desperately wanted to retrieve the refugee and troop manifests as well as the cyanide-mixed toxin from her safe. Cameron gave Evan a thumbs-up to let him know Cameron would watch the two boys like a hawk. Cameron went back to spearing the practically unmoving shamblers.

  Evan accompanied August into her partially collapsed tent. August was relieved that everything inside was still mostly untouched. She pulled out a plastic tote that held the manifests, just as she had left them. She looked them over, rolled them up, and stuffed them into her bag. She went to the safe to carefully remove the cylinder.

  Evan looked crossly at the football-sized capsule.

  "I would never use this on anyone. This is a murder weapon, and I want to find a way to destroy it," August said. She placed the secured capsule into the bag.

  "It has to be torture to be here," Evan said.

  "It feels like I am revisiting the scene of a crime," August replied. She struggled to maintain her composure, but heartache was present in her reddened and angry eyes.

  "Don't beat yourself up, August. We both know how screwed up the situation was," Evan said.

  "Thanks, but this is going to be a lasting scar. I'm sure of that," August said.

  "Like all scars, it'll fade in time," Evan countered.

  August studied the tent silently.

  “Are there any personal things that I could help carry back?” Evan offered.

  “You don’t have to,” August said.

  “I want to, is there anything?” Evan insisted.

  “Well, I have a foot locker over under that desk. Go through it and take whatever you would if it was yours," August said as she reached underneath the cot again.

  She brought out an empty duffle for Evan. She tossed the duffle over and felt as if she was going to black out.

  “Whoa, head rush,” August said.

  She had to sit down on the cot to regain a clear head. She threw her head back and looked at the ceiling for a moment. She then watched as Evan emptied the foot locker completely and stuffed the duffle full.

  “Evan.”

  “What’s up?” Evan asked. "Are you ok?"

  August was quiet for a moment.

  “Uh, your wife, do you remember any of the early signs when she was pregnant?”

  Evan gave her a suspicious look. He set the bag down to take a chair.

  “Yeah, actually I do, especially with my little girl, Emily. I'm thinking you want the early signs.”

  “Yes sir, was fatigue part of it? Cramping? Were there headaches?” August asked.

  “Yep, there sure was. Are you saying that you think you’re pregnant?”

  “Uh huh, I think I am. I’m going to talk to Nikki about it after we wrap this up. I just wanted someone else’s opinion. If I am, Jeremy is going to be ecstatic. We both want a family together.”

  “If you are, you’re going to have the greatest time in your life. Some things will suck, but the end reward is well worth it.�
��

  “Thanks. I’m not going to tell Jeremy quite yet until I know for sure. But if it’s true, expect to be invited to celebrate,” August informed him. “But, I want to ask you something. Do you think we should have tried now?”

  “Do you mean with this backwards world we’re living in right now?” Evan asked. “Think of it this way. What are we fighting for if we’re scared to continue our existence? We have to start somewhere. Steve and Sandra are the first to find out they are expecting. You and Jeremy will be the second. That’s if you are, which I’m sure of it.”

  “I simply love your positive nature,” August said. She hugged him and planted a kiss to his cheek.

  “Being a negative jerk never really suited me,” Evan joked. “I tried, but I usually get slapped.”

  August laughed at his silliness. He picked up the duffle and slung it over his shoulder.

  “How are you doing? And be honest with me,” August asked. She knew Evan had suffered greatly, but he was excellent at masking his emotions.

  “I'm going to be fine,” Evan insisted. He held the tent's entrance open for her.

  “That’s good,” August assured him. “I’ve been watching the kids that Matt hangs around with, especially Nikki’s son, Eliot. I can’t imagine how he’s overcoming all of the tragedy in his life. Some kids who face some of the things he has, they get really screwed up in the head. You can see some of it immediately, but he seems to be doing ok.”

  “I know Nikki is trying her best, but something they do when the nights are difficult for them, they spend it together, and talk it out. Cameron has been there for them.”

  “Evan, here’s one.”

  Evan dropped the duffle and walked to where August pointed. He thrust and twisted his blade into the back of a crawling undead male’s. At least Evan thought it was a male. The thing was extremely riddled with decayed areas. When he was sure it was gone for good, he walked back toward August.

  A body crawled out from a pile and took a large bite into the back of Evan’s ankle with a gurgling growl. Evan stomped on the ground to force its jaws off of his boot. He jabbed the butt end of his blade into the crawler's forehead with a hellacious crack of its skull. He got himself clear and checked the back of his boot.

  “He didn’t get in. Jesus, though.”

  “I’m glad you don’t have a panic reflex,” August said.

  “No more close calls,” Evan said with a sigh.

  Evan went from body to body and speared each one, regardless if it moved or not. Massive piles of corpses grew to hills and were prepared for burning. Gasoline was poured over the piles, followed by a former guardsman using a makeshift torch to ignite the mounds.

  -----

  Nikolai lay in his bed with the woman he spent the night with. She didn’t have a choice but to do as he wanted. She was sold to him as pleasure by the overseer of Traverse City.

  “Are we done?” the woman asked.

  “What do you mean ‘are we done?’? I own you.”

  “I’m sorry,” she said. “I forgot.”

  “Did you really forget, or did you choose to forget?”

  He saw the confusion in her gaze.

  “Nevermind,” Nikolai groaned.

  “It’s going to be another hot day,” the woman said.

  “So, why don’t you go out and fix it, Chloe?” Nikolai said snottily.

  She got out of bed heatedly.

  “You don’t have to be such an asshole,” Chloe snapped.

  “Where are you going?” Nikolai asked.

  Chloe stopped in her tracks, turned around and knelt down. With her hands outstretched, she pressed them and her forehead to the floor.

  “May I please use the bathroom, my love?” Chloe asked.

  “What the hell ever,” Nikolai said. “Go, and be quick.”

  He turned to his stomach. At any moment, Joseph would be at his door to get him ready for a trip to Saginaw. He wanted one more romp with Chloe before he left. When she returned, she gave him what he wanted.

  Roughly thirty minutes later, Joseph had sent a man to his door to get him ready to go.

  “What do I do about her?” Nikolai asked the former soldier.

  “Did you use a condom?” the man asked.

  “No,” Nikolai replied.

  “You don’t want her as a wife or mother of your kids?”

  Nikolai looked her over for a moment. Chloe wasn’t a bad looking woman, but she was just a fix.

  “No,” Nikolai repeated.

  The former soldier walked over to her with a grin. He took out a knife from his belt and violently jabbed it under her chin and into her brain. When he removed the blade, she slumped to the floor.

  “Good enough?” the former soldier asked.

  Nikolai stared at the mess on the floor with astonishment.

  “Joseph will be pleased,” Nikolai pleased.

  “Great,” the man said. “’Cause that’s what those bitches in Detroit have to look forward to once we take them.”

  “You won’t be able to get them unless they are away from that city,” Nikolai said. “They are extremely well prepared. They have a lot more people than we do. Forget that pipe dream.”

  “Joseph wants you downstairs,” the soldier said.

  Without even a glance to the woman he killed, the man left the room. Nikolai looked at the woman with pity.

  “I won’t have to worry about child support with you I suppose,” Nikolai said.

  He left the door open for the house’s caretaker to find the woman’s body. Joseph stared at Doctor Grayson when he exited the house.

  “Satisfied?” Nikolai asked the outlawed captain.

  “Are you?” Joseph countered.

  “Last night, yes, now, no,” Nikolai said.

  “We need to move,” Joseph said. “We’re no longer welcome in Grayling. Those bastards in Detroit put a word out that we’re dangerous.”

  “No shit, Joseph,” Nikolai exclaimed. “It doesn’t help when you have men willing to drive a knife into a woman without even blinking.”

  “We did you a favor, now get in the truck.”

  “Why are we going to Saginaw?” Nikolai asked.

  “It’s quiet,” Joseph said. “I need quiet to think of what I’m going to do with this boy.”

  Joseph opened the back of his SUV to reveal a boy around the age of thirteen. He took the duct tape off the frightened boy’s mouth.

  “Ok, boy, tell the doctor your name,” Joseph said to the boy.

  “P-Patrick Wilkerson.”

  “Patrick, you’re going to help me,” Joseph said. “We’re going to have you send a message to our friends in Detroit. I haven’t thought of what I want to say yet.”

  “Are you going to kill me?” Patrick asked.

  “Yeah,” Joseph replied.

  “You can’t,” Grayson said. “He’s just a kid!”

  Joseph glared at the doctor.

  -----

  Three members of Captain Gage’s company stationed at Checkpoint Three, slowly walked toward a table that was sitting in the middle of the road that wasn’t there the night before. The other members of the five person shift stayed back to keep guard.

  When they got closer to the table, they saw there was a body strapped onto the table that didn’t move. Blood dropped from each side of the table.

  It had been a dark night with a crescent waxing moon that gave hardly any light. When the table was placed was a complete mystery. When the three were by the table, they say the body was of a male. Whoever it was, he had been decapitated. His skin on his chest was cut into ribbons than hung loosely. The ribbons were merely attached to the shoulders.

  The three militiamen stood staring at the mutilated man completely stunned.

  One of the militia men pointed at another disturbing sight a bit further down the road.

  “Cover me while I check it out,” the squad leader said.

  “Be careful,” one of his companions said.

  The
specialist moved toward a head that was placed on a pole. He went closer to have a good look. The specialist saw a great amount of blood had ran from the person’s mouth. The reason for the blood was the person’s tongue had been cut out. The specialist saw a small note hanging from the man’s ear, attached by an earring.

  The specialist carefully removed the note to see what it might say.

  To whom it may concern,

  I’m not sure how you’re getting so many people, but you have me completely surprised. I have a job to do, and if it means taking you all out one by one, then I’ll do just that. You have been playing a nasty game, and I am even better at it than you are. Don’t make any mistakes.

  I’ve sent you Nikolai Grayson. He’s been a pain in the ass, and he failed by getting rid of you when he had the chance. You can hunt for me if you want to, but I know how to move so you can’t see me. One man’s death is a morale back-breaker for people like you. If Mayvin Wilkerson comes to find his son, tell him Patrick is fine. He’s with me now.

  Signed,

  Joseph S.

  The letter was taken to Captain Marcus Gage immediately, who passed it up to General Wright. Eric held a meeting with his captains and Sarah.

  “Do we tell the rest of the people?” Evan asked.

  “We have to,” Sarah said. “Remember, we want to be transparent. They have a right to know there is a mad man out there. We can protect them, but they need to be vigilant.”

  “Besides,” August said. “If you’re worried about panic, think about what these people have gone through. I don’t think there’s going to be a lot that can panic them. Most of them are aware of the doctor already, and the assassination of the colonel has gotten around. They will handle this news.”

  “That’s true,” Evan said. “We do have to tell Mayvin. Damn, his own son taken by that psycho.”

  “I bet that has you thinking about Matt,” Sarah said.

  “Oh yeah,” Evan replied. “Matt wouldn’t join him though. He’s too head-strong to be manipulated, I think.”

  -----

  Joseph looked at the boy holding the rifle he had given Patrick. It was one of the two things he had asked for. The other request was something he’d have to reward him with later when the boy showed he was completely taken in by Joseph.