Way of the Undead

by Boggess, Michael

  “Say something,” Tyler demanded, hovering over him, pointing a gun.

  “I’m fine! You can stop pointing that at me.”

  Stephanie jumped up off of her cot, and ran over to the sound of Mark’s voice, assuming the injection had worked. She opened her arm’s wide, giving him the most loving, warm embrace that she had ever given. Mark was still woozy from his illness, but could tell that his mind and body was now working on some new level. “What’s there to drink? I’m thirsty,” Mark said.

  “I’ll get you some juice,” Steve said.

  “I feel great,” Mark insisted. “Never better…just a little thirsty.”

  Ben, Jake’s friend, looked around the room, noticing the other backpack resting against the corner wall. There was no doubt that it had another Anti-virus tucked away in it somewhere. He couldn’t bring himself earlier to tell his friends that he had gotten bit.

  Jake could tell Ben was feeling bad. “What’s wrong?”

  Ben walked over to Jake. “I got bit earlier.”

  Jake thought it over briefly. “Check to see if there’s another one of those cures.”

  “If it worked for Mark, then I guess I better.”

  Ben began rummaging through the bag. “One left.”

  By the looks of it, there was no doubt that it was the same kind of drug that had been used to save Mark’s life. The group gathered around taking minor precautions.

  “You should have just told us,” Steven said. “There’s no sense in hiding anything like that.”

  Steven went ahead and applied the tourniquet. After waiting a minute, the Anti-virus that had brought Mark back from the verge of death was administered. Although the same steps were followed that led to Mark’s almost resurrection, less than a minute later, Ben, had fallen unconscious—dying right before everyone’s eyes. The group waited for the dead jock to possibly change into a zombie, but nothing happened; he remained dead.

  And then, after much heartache, as things got somewhat back to normal, the next morning, the group cooked breakfast, and began planning on how they were going to get over to the pharmacy next door. The Sheriff, having scoped out the roof the previous day, found that all of the neighboring businesses were accessible from the roof. Earlier that morning, Sheriff Houser raided the command post’s toolbox, getting out the bolt cutters. With the assistance of Mark, and Steven—they climbed to the roof through Luigi’s upstairs office. Once to the roof, everyone stepped to the edge, looking down over a large area of Gatlinburg, wondering what exactly had happened to the National Guardsmen that were fighting the previous night.

  “They’re gone,” Steven said. “Where’d they go?” he asked, looking as far as the eye could see in every direction throughout town.

  Mark looked up and down the streets, noticing the still increasing hordes of zombies. “They’ll eventually have to come back to finish the job.”

  “Would you two stop yapping and give me a hand over here,” Sheriff Houser said jokingly, unable to break the large lock off the hatch with the bolt cutters by himself.

  Mark quickly took the cutting tool in hand—lining up the cutting blades. In one powerful cut, the applied, massive amount of pressure—snapped the lock in two.

  “Good job sir,” the Sheriff said wittedly. “But, now we have to get through the inner locking mechanism.

  Mark picked up the sheriff’s toolbox and took out a crowbar and with a well-placed jolt of strength—he easily popped the door off of its hinges. Before entering into the dark upper floor of the pharmacy—Mark took out a flashlight and drew one of his six-shooters. The door was then opened up slowly with the group ready to make their way down. Entering in through the decimated hatch, Mark began shinning his light all around. The office was a mess; the large built in wall safe was standing wide-open and empty. The desk and floor was littered with trash. No zombies were present however.

  “I’m betting someone tried to rob the joint when everything went all to hell,” Sheriff Houser explained, noticing how everything looked ransacked.

  “Also, it could have been the owner. It had to be someone that knew the combination of that safe over there,” Mark stated, looking over the area in detail.

  “Let’s split up,” Mark said as he signaled for Tyler and Jake to check down the front of the store.

  Cautiously, Mark went on to check out the back of the store, around to the stock area and back loading dock. Sheriff Houser and Steven took the back section of the store, checking up and down all of the back aisles. Alone, Mark walked through a long cloth curtain, and then a set of swinging double doors. As he entered into the dark storage room in search of survivors, or dangers of any kind, he began to shine his light as he walked before hearing a loud banging coming from a sealed room up ahead. Upon unlatching the door to the loading dock—three zombies in all black clothes with ski masks jetted out from behind a pallet of crates. From behind their masks, their jaws could be seen viciously rising then shutting, opening and closing as drool had soaked through the cloth. The three zombies, whom Mark recognized as intruders, thieves who’d came in and began trying to loot the place, getting stuck in the small room were now free.

  Mark easily evaded the trio of zombie’s first attack, amongst the loud sound of banging coming from outside. Mark and his heightened senses—timed and placed a hard kick to one of the zombie’s chest—sending it flying into the other two—knocking them all three down to the ground. Looking around the small loading dock, it was realized what the banging on the outside shutter had been. Zombie hands began reaching into the room from under a metal shutter, while others scratched and clawed on the exterior. Mark aimed his revolver—firing directly at one of the zombie’s forehead—killing it instantly. Mark fired another shot—dropping another zombie to the ground as it scrambled back up to its feet. Before the third and final zombie began to attack, there was no need to hurry as it was up and wandering around the room, lost. With his gun aimed directly, the zombie had somehow got its mask turned around crooked, blinding it. Another well placed shot brought the zombie tumbling to the ground, falling over a crate of merchandise.

  The hoard of zombies could still be heard out back as the metal shutter began sounding like the whole building was begging to collapse. The zombies began to inch by inch work their way up under the shutter, raising it even through its locked position, almost breaking the gears. Mark stood in wait as the zombies had gotten worked up due to the noise. Mark walked over to the shutter door and picked up a broom. And with use of his new found and unrealized strength, the few zombies that had entered were pushed forcefully under the shutter and back out of the pharmacy. With the zombies out—he then grabbed atop of the shutter door and started pulling it further and further down to the ground—powerfully forcing the already locked gears to back track. Once the shutter door was back to the loading dock floor, it wasn’t realized just how much strength that’d just been displayed. Thoughts of anything unusual were quickly dismissed, deciding it was probably just an adrenaline rush or something reasonable.

  The back of the pharmacy was now sealed tight and secure. And with his confidence rising, the would-be looters were looked down upon. It was figured that they had probably snuck into the store by prying open the shutter before realizing they were locked in. Once stuck, Mark figured they tried to escape—just to have gotten bit all to hell—winding up rotting away in storage with bloodthirsty zombies having cut off their only exit out. The pry marks from inside of the room confirmed his suspicions. It all became clearer, viewing the evidence.

  Chapter 21 way of the undead

  The world was in turmoil. The virus spread, and having been spread, created small catastrophic outbreaks resulting in large scale chaos. Panic filled even the most remote reaches of the world. Governments turned their attention to the Anti-virus, a formula that had been promised, but never produced. Sgt. Ryan was a failed experiment. Given the disappointment, the President of the United States began to take further heat from other countries. B
ut, with the team of doctors and scientists now being sworn to secrecy from Captain Collins and his superior—the countries own President’s lack of information was continuing to make the already desperate and panic-stricken regions angrier.

  “For god’s sake, how’s the testing going?” a rough and tumble voice asked.

  Captain Collins, having just finished up his report, noticed the Majors uniform before he’d walked into the room. “It’s not what I hoped Major, but more testing is now underway.”

  “Are you at least finished with that report?” The Captain sealed up the final contents of his paperwork before handing it into his awaiting grasp. “Just how long do you think we can keep this up?”

  “Sir, as long as we need to... if we have to we’ll report the Anti-virus was a failed experiment. We can just have the President retract his statements. Honestly, he’s the one who boasted about it being nearly completed,” the Major said. “It would be an error to admit that testing has somehow fell through.”

  “Is the President going to go along with such a thing?” the Captain asked, fearing keeping the Anti-virus’s failure a secret might just cause the outbreak to worsen.

  “The secret is the only way,” The Major argued. “You said it yourself, Young Dr. Scott is on the verge of procuring a vaccine any day now. The President will do as he’s told and what needs to be done. It is in our best interest to not give any foreign power that formula—besides it’s still highly unstable. If it comes to the United States being the only country with the cure—so be it—once the Anti-virus is perfected we’ll have the tougher soldiers. We definitely can’t risk giving them the key ingredients to perfect a super-soldier.”

  Captain Collins thought back about the mass production of the Anti-virus. “It had worked so well on Andres.”

  “Until Dr. Scott gets us a working vaccine, or any other type of a cure, we’re going to have to stay on high-alert. I just don’t believe that other countries are going to believe a retraction, especially one that was already claimed to be perfected,” Captain Collins explained.

  “Don’t you go getting soft on me now, Captain! There’s so many reasons that this Anti-virus must remain a secret at all costs.”

  Many miles away, in the back stockroom of the Stoney Mountain Pharmacy, in Gatlinburg, Mark finished his patrol, ensuring that no more zombies were lurking anywhere in the shadows. With the virus now gone, his health had become immense: his overall demeanor was becoming healthier than at any other time in his known life. During his patrol, Mark’s senses had seemed sharper. An increase in overall strength had not just been exhibited, but felt; furthermore, his resurgence from near death wasn’t just physical, but mental. As Mark searched through the darkness of the back, for an instance, he paused, sensing something odd was about to happen. At that moment, with a sudden surge, the power came on illuminating and powering the store. The surge lasted for fifteen-seconds before the flickering of the lights on and off began to fade completely. Having finished their patrol, Sheriff Houser and Steven waited down one of the aisles, unaware really that Mark had just been attacked. With one of his six-shooters still drawn, Mark walked up on Steven as he lounged in an ataman that was on display. With a basket in one arm and a flashlight in his other, Sheriff Houser began taking items off the shelf, preparing a load to take back with him to Luigi’s.

  “I hope you two know I just got attacked by at least six zombies back there,” Mark said.

  Sheriff Houser set his basket mostly filled with baked goods down. “Are they still back there?”

  “No! I took out all three, and then I kicked three more out the door before I sealed it off. All’s secure now though.”

  “I would’ve helped... you just kind of took off on your own,” the Sheriff explained.

  “It’s cool… It was nothing,” Mark bragged, assisting the Sheriff to shop with the use of his flashlight.

  “What was up with the power?” Steven asked, resting comfortably back with his feet propped up guzzling grape juice.

  The Sheriff continued to look up and down the aisles. “Like I said before, it’s someone, somewhere trying to get the towns power back up and running. I bet they’re just encountering some problems somewhere along the way,” Sheriff Houser explained, stepping over to the next aisle.

  “You need to layoff the sweets anyhow, Mark said jokingly.

  “Alright, but you’ll be wishing you hadn’t made fun after I eat every bit of it all by myself.”

  After a moment Mark’s hunger pains were becoming too much. “Is this what it’s like for a zombie to crave flesh?”

  Struggling with an almost debilitating hunger, cookies and chips were quickly taken off of the shelf, if only to satisfy his insatiable urge to eat. “I’m starving,” Mark said, stuffing his face. “I think my caloric intake is up. Could that Anti-virus you gave me changed my physiology somehow?”

  Indulging in real food, in a world with potential famines to contend with, the need to feed on human flesh was the ultimate trade-off.

  “You’re lucky to have survived that infection,” Steven said. “Look at what happened to Ben.”

  Just as Sheriff Houser was about to crack a joke, the power once again started to flicker. “We have power.”

  “Stay on! Stay on!” Steven said, trying not to jinx it.

  The power was now fully functional, illuminating the entire mini-mall. Mark took a minute from eating, as an uneasy feeling came over him. In an instance, the stores front electronic sensors sprang into action—opening the two sliding glass double doors wide. Un-expectantly, a festering horde of zombies close-by came wandering in from the outer sidewalk, having unintentionally triggered the sensor. To Steven and Tyler’s surprise, the doors remained wide-open allowing zombie after zombie to enter into the Pharmacy. Blood-drenched zombies were now shambling their way into the pharmacy one at a time. Up next to the registers and under the immense glow of the well-lit storefront—the zombies spotted Jake as he promptly dropped his shopping basket, readying his ball bat. Tyler wasn’t sure where Jake was, but started to back track—laying low and out of site till he was in the clear to take off running.

  As the zombies began to crowd into the store—ferociously making their way after Jake—the power abruptly shut back off. In the cover of darkness—Tyler took off running down the aisle for help, meeting Mark and Sheriff Houser halfway. Armed and ready for a fight, the Sheriff continued to creep over to where the zombies were entering in at. With minimal sunlight shining in near the front, the Sheriff realized he didn’t have a clear shot as Jake stood in wait with his bat. Having quickly approached, Mark made his way down the next aisle, leaving Tyler behind. Mark drew both revolvers—unloading seven of the remaining nine rounds in the chambers. Lighting quick and with sheer precision—from off in the shadows, Mark lit up the once again dim area—putting one well-placed bullet directly into the brains of each of the invading zombies, one after another. In almost the same instance after the last shot was fired, Mark sprinted over towards the doors—jumping over a large number of dead-bodies blocking his path before delivering a striking backhand with his revolver as one more zombie tried making its way into the store. Standing at the entrance, he aimed to the outside walkway at the wounded zombie—firing one last shot at its head as it laid motionless on the sidewalk.

  Before anymore zombies made their way in, the door was closed, and the latch above the doorway was fastened, deactivating its sensor. The pharmacy was now safe and secure. Once the first gunshots had been fired—zombies came flooding to the front of the pharmacy—banging on the glass.

  The sounds of banging glass vibrated. “I believe we should go see if we’ve got any survivors next door,” mark said.

  The Pharmacy was now empty, safe and secure. Once to the roof, everyone took a moment to reload their weapons. Mark placed his revolvers into their holsters, grabbing the cutting tool off the ground. He then snapped off the lock attached to the video-store’s hatch.

  The group led by
Mark’s flashlight, stayed close to the man that was now building a reputation as a zombie slayer. More zombies had been put down by his hand in the last day, then the whole group’s total combined kills over the past few days. For someone that had just cheated death, he was now proving to be the Sheriff’s right hand man. And his deeds were not going unnoticed, as the group witnessed firsthand his seemingly increased strength, speed, and agility. Mark was slowly realizing his new abilities.

  “On the count of three: one, two, three!” Mark said as he kicked open the door, stepping out, trying to quickly target any dangers by way of his six-shooters.

  Mark quickly looked around the video-store—visualizing every square inch of the room in mere seconds. He fearsomely began waving his guns around—covering the group from any sudden movements and dangers as they each stepped out into the open. Mark’s actions were two to three times faster than the average human, and were considerably speeding up the more he became use to his gifts. Mark’s reaction time was also increasing as his mind began to register feet after amazing feet at above normal speeds. Although the store appeared abandoned he began to hear the subtle breaths of someone as they tried to stay extremely quiet. Mark envisioned only a few hiding spots in the entire store, but knew that the noise was coming from behind the counter.

  Passing row upon row of movie cases, down the aisle closest to the register, someone was hiding. “Don’t move!” Mark yelled as a male dressed in baggy clothes, with a shaved head and many piercings crawled further under the counter.

  “Come out from behind there,” Sheriff Houser demanded, aiming his gun at the young man’s chest.

  Mark stepped to the side, allowing the skinny, thuggish looking teenager to come out.

  “I’m Joe! I just work here… he was already dead when I got here.”