We head into the school and hear screams. There are Healthies in here hiding and they are probably unorganized now, since the soldiers were infected. We all fan out and there turn out to be plenty of them. We kill them and gorge ourselves until the last scream is silenced. There may be more but we’re full now. We head out and make our way through back streets and finally to the highway.
We follow the highway like Darius told us and see a bridge in the distance. The bridge lights show it is loaded with cars, and infected. This shouldn’t be like the tunnel though. The sun is coming up and we can see fairly well as we come up to it. Some of the infected on the bridge join our group as we cross. We are becoming a real army...
5
Coliseum
Many and sharp the num'rous ills
Inwoven with our frame!
More pointed still we make ourselves
Regret, remorse, and shame!
And Man, whose heav'n-erected face
The smiles of love adorn,
Man's inhumanity to man
Makes countless thousands mourn!
-Robert Burns, 1785
We leave the bridge and continue west on Route 64 toward Richmond, the state capital. We will be looking for more answers there. As we walk down the highway, I see a steady plume of smoke far off in the distance. We see more Healthies. Some shoot us, some just run. I myself have a bullet in my shoulder and a couple in my back. We catch who we can, and kill and eat them. The others get away. We lose a lot of our own from gunshots, but take our share of them. We are hunted so we, ourselves, must never stop hunting or we are nothing but prey.
They are smarter than us, by and large, but unorganized they can do little harm. Our numbers grow by the minute, as theirs shrink. As we near the source of the smoke we can hear the sounds of people. Many more than our numbers. This both excites and scares me. I decide we should wait until dark to investigate, so we head into the woods to wait, and rest. As we wait, we see several vehicles roll by on the road. Cars, campers, trucks, you name it. A lot of Healthies are heading somewhere. There are many more than I had thought and I fear we are in danger.
We start out in the morning and decide to keep to the woods. We can see the smoke and hear the Healthies and there are still cars passing on the road. As we get closer we can see the noise is coming from a stadium; the kind that holds a few thousand people. Then we hear gunshots and barking dogs, and they are upon us. What seems to be a hundred dogs tear into us relentlessly. They are too fast and too well trained; and we are no match for them. Men on horseback and in jeeps capture those of us not taken by the dogs and kill the rest.
We are thrown in the back of semi trucks and locked in. I don’t think we killed even one of these Healthies. I feel the truck move and many of us that are the worse-off moan and cry out. We don’t fear many things, but we cannot stand the unknown. Whether it is confusion as to how to operate something we know we once could, the fate of lost loved ones, or simply being held captive. We all may not move fast, but we need to be able to move freely. A sort of claustrophobic paranoia... I can feel exactly what the group is feeling. I have always been like that.
The noise gets louder and louder, drowning out the truck engine, and I realize it is the roar of a crowd. The truck pulls to a stop and the noise is almost deafening. The door opens and the back of the truck raises in the front forcing us to spill out into what can only be described as an arena. The stands are full of Healthies, protected by a 12 foot metal fence around the arena floor. And that arena floor is full of the sick and diseased.
The group currently on the floor turns and looks at us. I study their faces. The look on most of them is suspicion. They have been here a while, this looks to be a place they consider their turf. They move toward us, almost in a kind of formation.
Most of them have weapons, close combat weapons not guns or explosives. There are lifeless bodies and body parts spread all over this arena; all partially eaten. We have been brought here to fight, to be made sport of, all to entertain the Healthies in the stands. Why this particular group of uninfected are not scared of us may be related to how drunk they appear to be. A bloodthirsty crowd, waiting for the Freaks to kill each other for their entertainment.
I turn to look at the other group and they have stopped at the middle of the arena. They just stand there staring at us, each one crying out his or her individual war cry. The cacophony is nearly deafening and I think we may Frenzy when suddenly, two thick steel fences drop down to separate our two groups. These fences are about 12 feet high, same as the ones around the arena floor, and the space between them is about 4 feet. The fencing makes it impossible to reach each other, but we can see and hear clearly through it.
An announcer comes on and although I can’t really understand him over the obviously damaged public address system, he seems to imply that a battle will take place tomorrow. I guess we are fighting. Almost all of our adversaries seem to be near, if not equal, to me in mobility but not cognition. Many of my own group still needs to have me help them relearn many basic tasks I have already re-taught them once; almost as though they had had a stroke or something. I don’t know why I am able to teach and so many are not.
The others are now seated and facing us through the fence, an obvious attempt to intimidate. I scan them and quickly realize we will not win this fight. Their group is larger and in tune to the movements of each other. Then I notice two familiar faces staring through the fencing. It is Bob and Michelle.
Friends!
I move towards them but their faces remain cold and menacing. I try to speak but they beat me to it. Even through their barely intelligible groaning, their looks and inflections say it all. Had I forgotten that I literally stole Bob’s truck after pushing him from it and practically blinded Michelle? Her eye still hung from its socket. I tried to explain that I was frightened and didn’t know what I was doing. All they answered with was the face of someone that intended on killing and eating me and my band of inexperienced foot soldiers.
I tried to explain that we shouldn’t be fighting each other... that we should be fighting them. But I can see how they could remain here without a fight. The Healthies brought them flesh and gave them a place to live. The promise of food and shelter to a weak mind has been the downfall of many civilizations, but I can’t let it happen to ours.
“You are living like pets!” I scream. “We have to stand up to this tyranny. These Healthies are our food! Not our captors!”
Some of them turn and begin to listen, including a large bald man with a Navy ID on his shirt that said his name was Will. He seems to have some leadership role, perhaps because of his size. At first he looked angry, but now I can see him listen and understand.
I tell them about the hospital and how we were all being systematically exterminated; in this case, for sport. I preach until I collapse. I can only hope some of it has sunk in. I only hope we have a chance.
I dream as I sleep. My father is telling me about the war. How he fought the Germans and his division marched through France and into Germany, winning the local people over as they went.
“You don’t win a war by killing soldiers”, he tells me, “You win a war by winning the hearts and minds of the common folk.”
I then take flight as a large and fearless winged lion. I come to rest atop thousands of dead bodies, and feed on them slowly. My mouth is covered in blood and my eyes are pure blue light. I look closer and see the dead bodies are actually holding me up as they sing my name, so loud I am deafened. They then fall apart and rot into nothing and I am left alone on a mountain, a child surrounded by a sea of burning blood... the last person alive.
I awake to the spray of a high powered fire hose. The sun is up and we are being cleaned for some reasons. We all stagger back to try and get away. Some of my people are literally torn apart by the water. None of us bath anymore and I can imagine the stench we give off to one of the uninfected. Believe me, we can smell them coming so they can probably smell us. The
others remain staring at us as the water hits them. Motionless they sit, intimidating and powerful. As I said, I had been afraid of little since I took ill. Fearless and ravenous, I have attacked my way through life, but these ghouls scare the Hell out of me. Not as much for myself as for all my people.
Healthies start to file into the seats of the arena. Most are drunk or high. For generations, this has been a popular way to cope with the unknown. Still, our adversaries do not move from their places at the fence. Many of us, on the other hand, moan in pain and stagger hungrily about. We are starving and the burning pain is unbearable. Will, the large Navy man, looks at me through the fence. When he is sure I am looking, he slowly winks. I look in his eyes and know what it means.
At that moment the fences rise up and my people lurch back in fear. The others don’t move. I get it immediately. I motion my men forward with me near where the fence had been. I motion them to sit down as well. We plan our attack simply by looking in each other’s eyes. We don’t move. The loudspeaker shrieks with threats to us but we still don’t move. Then the Healthies’ security force enters the floor with weapons, dressed in heavy riot gear.
Too heavy to bite through I think, but I know what we have to do. They look like off duty cops and the bulk of the gear they wear limits their mobility and they are sweating terribly, I can see that... and smell them.
The fences come down again and the guards file in between them. But at each end of the fences there are barely noticeable piles of stacked debris, stones and metal mostly. The fences come down on top of the debris and stop leaving about 8 - 10 inches of room underneath and all the way across. The others had planned this! I hadn’t noticed them stacking the rocks, no one had!
Thinking they are safe from our reach the guards try to shock us into submission through the fences with electric shock sticks. We reach under the fence and grab the men’s legs. They scream as we tear at their suits and pull whatever parts of them fit under the gates. We can’t get at their flesh, but we can pull apart limbs and crush them. Then together we lift the fences up and slip as many of our own as we can underneath to attack the people in the stands. As many of us kill and eat the warm flesh of the spectators, Bob finds the main switch and raises all the arena fencing completely up and we are all on the crowd in no time. Some fight back, but few escape the attack.
This is the first attack I have truly enjoyed, and with no remorse. The sound of their screams, the smell of their fear, the taste of the adrenalin permeating their warm bloody flesh. It’s primal and rewarding like nothing I have ever felt. I love attacking the Healthies. How dare they enjoy life while we rot. Their flesh will feed us and they will live in FEAR of us, The Damned. They hide behind locked doors and underground waiting until its safe, but it will never be safe. We will never stop looking for them.
We rest, and the next morning decide to continue on to Richmond. The others have come from many different places and tell us of the things they have seen. Religious zealots in the infected world are out to cleanse us all. Infected animals attack anything they see, because their minds cannot handle this change. Flocks of birds fly and feed as one organism. Massive insect infestations; The list goes on. Many of the others don’t wish to find answers. They want to stay away from the Healthies and head to the mountains.
Some of the documents I’ve read say feeding is a necessity for the infected and the only material that the infected can metabolize is live human flesh. Everything else tested on our kind in their sick and disgusting hospital was vomited back up. The flesh of the infected ourselves, when cannibalized, is not expelled but it contains limited nutrients. The others, however, believe feeding is instinct and not necessity. They feel they can eat anything and still be fine. Because of what I have read, I feel otherwise--and so do Bob and Michelle. They want to join our group, and I can’t help but be suspicious. I will allow them in but I will keep an eye on them. You know what they say, keep your friends close and your enemies closer. It seems there are two kinds of beings in my world now, enemies and enemies I haven’t met yet.
Our entire group will travel to Richmond. When we arrive there, the others will continue on west while we sack Richmond, gathering followers and killing the uninfected along the way. And after that, Washington is next...
6
Richmond Was Built on a Hill
I wish I could explain the way it feels to kill one of the uninfected. On one hand, it feels more powerful and pleasurable than anything I have ever felt. The fear in the victim’s eye as he feels himself being eaten and the taste of the warm blood and flesh running down my throat as I take the poor bastard is a huge rush. On the other hand, the closeness to the person I kill and eat is there as well. It borders on intimacy. How can you get closer to a person than by eating them alive? I like to start with the face, just tearing off lips and cheek while holding the head. A lot of my peers go right for the abdomen and organs. It is a personal preference, and seeing the expression of someone being eaten on a fully functioning face is something to watch. First and foremost, it’s fear and then pain. But then a different kind of disbelief and sheer horror takes over and they stop fighting. They know they are going to die and they almost seem to welcome it; I am releasing them from all their fears. Fears that perhaps used to be as simple as having enough money to support their materialistic nature, or as complicated as having enough money to live. The fears that the uninfected have now are most certainly the fears of us. And I release them from that. It’s a mercy killing really. Am I not providing a service? Am I not bringing the poor creatures peace? But no matter how we, the infected, kill we agree on one thing. We never try and kill them right away. We ALL like them to die while being eaten. I find myself becoming unapologetic for anything I do to them. They are the enemy. They are letting us ROT out here while they remain healthy. To Hell with them, all of them.
Now on another note, when we eat fellow infectees, killing first is usually the Modus Operandi. For this, we just want them dead and are merely eating to eat. Plain and simple. Personally, I rarely eat one of our own, but sometimes the feeling is uncontrollable and I resort to cannibalism. I say cannibalism in this case because eating one of the Healthies isn’t really cannibalism. They are not us. They are the enemy. They must pay for not helping us. For causing this. For being well. But it is important to quell the urge to slip into cannibalizing our own. We can’t win the war if we kill ourselves. I constantly look for food and lead attacks on the noninfected to make sure we don’t get so hungry we make the great mistake of cannibalism.
After what seems like days, we near Richmond. Many have joined our group and we number in the thousands now. As we get closer we notice a stark absence of Healthies and infected, but find a lot of dead bodies. Then we see what can only be one thing; the result of a huge battle. It looks like a fight took place between the Army and the infected. Soldiers bodies torn from tanks and ripped apart. Burned infected. Some still moving. A trail of blood and body parts paves the way to Richmond indicating to me that our side won this one and headed to town. I remember being told once that Richmond was built on a hill. And this turned out to be true.
We head into town and immediately begin climbing large hills which slow us down considerably. Many of the group can’t stagger more than a foot every few seconds. Many less than that, and we lose quite a few. They just stop, fall, or wander back down the hills. I look up and see soldiers on the overpasses heading into the city. Did they defeat our people? As we get closer we realize they are infected. Not as bad off as us, but definitely infected.
They open fire on us but aren’t the best shots. We return fire and I head into a building for shelter but most of my group simply walks cluelessly toward the gunfire. I motion them into the shelter and physically herd them to safety. Are they getting dumber? Bob and Michelle come up to me and we have what amounts to a discussion. I tell them it may be that the soldiers actually won the battle but became infected and are defending the city per orders. However there are document
s and possibly answers here. This is the state capital. There could be people here that can be questioned and made to pay, but that are being protected by our own kind--the infected who may still think they are normal. How do we convince them to join us? How do we outfight the soldiers? I am the leader of what amounts to staggering, Alzheimer’s-riddled cripples. Armed, but not a real army. What can I do?
Night falls and fires are lit on both sides. We each know the other is there, but they are defending the city and waiting for us to move first. I look down and see a manhole cover. Well that’s it. Maybe we can enter the city using the sewers. I doubt they thought of that; if we are losing our faculties, so are they. They will only defend against what they can see and it is only a matter of time until they attack whoever is left in the city. I have Bob and Michelle as lieutenants now, and two others that are less intelligent. Steve and Mike are good men that need to be led now, but they can grasp concepts. Ten more of even lesser means join us.
We pull up the manhole cover with a tire iron Steve has been using as a weapon and drop into the sewer, one by one. We will leave the rest of our men and women here to draw the attention of the soldiers. They won’t miss a few of us and it’s doubtful they have had time to count our numbers.
Het Madden, A Zombie Perspective: Book One: WRATH 2012 (Volume 1) Page 5
