Way of the Undead

by Boggess, Michael

  “We’ve got some fuel we can give you, but I don’t recommend leaving the mountain what so ever.”

  Mark then pulled out his badge, showing it to the family. “You should come with us. We’re good people. We’ve got a safe location away from the outbreak with plenty of food, water, and supplies.”

  “Well deputy, you drive a hard bargain, and seeing how we’ve been on the verge of running out of supplies the past few days, we’re lucky to have seen you. Me and the family would be glad to follow.”

  Mark continued to lead. He picked up the microphone. “Millionaires Row is coming up.”

  Passing by, out the window, many subdivisions with burning homes trailed-off in the distance. Some of the homes were engulfed in flames, still burning at that very moment as they passed by. Others were reduced to blackened dust, still smoldering from days prior.

  The sign was barely visible, having weeds and shrubbery grown up all around it. Mark steered the big rig. “We’re now entering the National Park.”

  Millionaires Row was now visible; the group watched as once luxurious homes and cabins passed by. Nothing but old foundations and chimneys remained. It was no surprise to hear that the park service moved in and tore down all of the large un-attended homes to better further their agenda.

  “Mark, what makes you think that this place is still around?” Sheriff Houser asked, having keyed up on the mic.

  “It is,” Mark insisted. “We’re close. I can feel it.”

  The whole area had been neglected; trees and shrubbery had begun to extend out into the road at most points.

  Hidden under a large accumulation of leaves, the drive was barely visible, even to the lead vehicle.

  The group reluctantly followed: unsure that Mark had even turned off onto an actual street. Excessive amounts of red, brown, orange, and yellow leaves now cover every square inch of the pavement below. The trail into the thick patch of dark woods began to narrow significantly as a bridge became visible up ahead. Without fear—Mark could tell by the thick concrete center-blocks and heavy iron construction that it was going to be strong enough to support the weight of the big rig. Crossing the bridge, and from off in the distance, the large, luxurious Pine View Hotel could be seen, still standing in all of its glory. Everyone trailing Mark began to catch up, crossing over the bridge to their new home. Atop of the bridge, the sight of the steep, rocky canyon below seemed like the drop might extend down forever.

  The Pine View Hotel was just how Frank had described it. The whole area seemed secure, free from zombie hordes, with only the one entrance in or out, surrounded by many tall trees offering anonymity.

  “It looks impenetrable to me.,” Mark said. “We’ve got two steep rock-covered mountains surrounding us, protecting from any type of invasion.”

  Sheriff Houser took off his cap. “We’ve got over two hundred acres here. We need to do a perimeter check to see if we find any structurally weak areas. I assume with the mountains nearby, and the bridge seemingly the only way in we’ll be fine. I’d just like to make sure something don’t come back to bite us.”

  Mark watched. Without anyone saying a word, each survivor rushed up to the hotel’s large wrap-around-porch, some going one direction, some going another before meeting up around back, looking far off into the shady, partially enflamed area of town and valley below.

  Mark took one last look around the busted-up parking lot with many potholes, checking out the many acres of flat grass covered land extending all the way back into a set of steep, overhanging rocky mountains nearby. The many outcroppings of trees brought on a feeling of peace.

  Cheerful and ecstatic voices echoed from up near the hotel. “Come around here Mark, the view is spectacular,” Stephanie shouted.

  The group was pleasantly surprised by the upkeep of the old hotel. Although everything was caked in dust, and with many cobb-webs, many things were easily fixable. As far as luxury was concerned, the hotel still had its original artwork, paintings, and sculptures hanging, providing a taste of class and luxury that many in the group would have never been able to experience otherwise. The overall reaction to the hotel was positive. Many of the older members of the group took off down to the hotel’s various long hallways taking a tour of the grand hotel fitting of a long forgotten era just before finding an empty barstool. The younger members went looking to call first dibs on their very own room. In all the excitement, Mark stayed behind in the main lobby, thinking about what needed to be done: besides getting the hotel up to par, and in a livable condition, he felt it was his duty to continue the search for survivors. He knew that with town the way it was and in such chaos—that no one was ever truly going to be safe—especially with Joe roaming the streets.

  “You’re still here?” Sheriff Houser asked, entering back into the spacious hotel lobby.

  Mark nodded. “Yep… just doing some thinking.”

  “You need to relax. We’re here… we’re safe. Take a break. There isn’t really anything else you need to be doing right now,” the Sheriff explained as he set down comfortably on a large dusty sofa.

  Mark became quiet for a moment, looking around at some old artwork. “I’m sure that there are people that need saving. I feel like I’ve been blessed with this power and I need to use it,” Mark said, getting chocked up a little.

  “Give it time is all I’m saying.”

  “I appreciate that... but I have to stop Joe. And we need to continue to stock up on supplies. I need to continue to hunt for survivors. Also, we need to figure out a long-term plan of survival; like, what should we do if the government can’t ever contain the outbreak… like what if things never get back to normal.”

  “You’re right,” Sheriff Houser said.

  “I’ll tell you what we need to do,” Mark said, “We need to gather supplies for the short term—but prepare for the long-term. By growing our own vegetables, and taking care of our own livestock, collecting and filtering rainwater for storage—we’ll be prepared once we start running low on supplies.”

  “And we will eventually run low,” Mark added, warning the Sheriff.

  The Sheriff thought it over, gaining a sense of dread. “I agree.”

  Chapter 28 way of the undead

  Later on in the day, as Mark arrived around front, Sheriff Houser along with the three soldiers stood around the back of the military transport vehicle taking a look at the stores of weapons and ammo packed away in the back. Stepping out onto the lawn, adjusting to the daylight, Mark pulled out his pistol—and hopped up onto the large bumper before checking briefly under the canopy for any danger. “No zombies here,” Mark said.

  Each unit of cargo had been safely packed into hardened, plastic, polyethylene storage containers.

  Sheriff Houser took a lid off of one of the containers. “It don’t take any kind of a genius to see that we’ve got ourselves a real arsenal here.”

  Looking around at some of the cache of weapons, a rough estimate could be drawn up about what they now have: multiple rocket launchers, grenade launchers, M-16’s, M-14 sniper rifles, and handguns of various makes and models. “Hot damn! Look what we’ve got,” Sheriff Houser said, slapping his knee.

  Searching through the many types of weapons, one particular gun was found out of place. It looked to be a sub-machinegun. Upon testing the sight, the weapon was found to be somewhat futuristic looking.

  Mark began playing with it. “Check this out. It has an optional suppressor, a whole store of thirty-round clips,” Mark said. “It seems to be in proper working condition.”

  “Here are some more copper-plated rounds for that thing.”

  “Check this out,” Mark said holding up the sleek, compact sub-machinegun.

  Private Samples began to look over the weapon. “It’s called a MP7A1. It’s an upgrade of the 9mm MP5. With the MP5 our soldiers were left vulnerable to anyone wearing armor. The MP7 upgrade allows for the same mobility on the battlefield for close combat, but packs enough power to penetrate even the tough
est body armor.”

  “I don’t really know. Unless one of our high-ranking officers ordered it,” Private Samples said, taking a wild guess.

  Tucked away behind crates of fully functional explosives, more guns and ammo, also containers full of rations. “This is enough food to last us at least a year,” Sheriff Houser proclaimed. “Are we going to have enough water to cook these up?”

  Mark hopped down off the back of the truck. “Private Samples, Where was this stuff headed?”

  “We were transporting it to a checkpoint near Knoxville, from Fort Stewart to be exact. As you can see it never quite made it.”

  Sheriff Houser looked on in amazement. “No wonder they haven’t been back to town, we have all of their supplies.”

  After less than a day of laboring away at the hotel, the group began trying to decide on the ever so dangerous job of going back out into town. Each of the soldiers volunteered immediately. Along with Sheriff Houser and Mark, Jake, Tyler, and Sensei Williams all joined the group, readying for battle. The group of survivor’s first trip back into town since coming up the mountain was to be a search and salvage mission. Supplies were to be gathered then checked off the list. In the event of finding anyone in need of help, there was figured to be plenty of more room at the Pine View Hotel.

  “We’ve got fuel,” Private Rickets announced, placing the empty gas jug to the ground away from the mobile command post.

  Traveling down the mountain, very little had changed—zombies still could still be witnessed roaming in search of food—stumbling down the steep mountain road. Once to town, it was unknown if even the fortified command post could operate through such massive amounts of blood-curdling zombies.

  “I know of at least five gas stations around here. Unless we get fuel, our trips up and down the mountain are going to come to an end real quick,” Sheriff Houser said.

  Mark peeked out the passenger-side window. “How do you know they haven’t already ran the pumps dry? We’ve got heavy fire-power, but I don’t think we should use it just yet. Let’s just try the nearest store and hope that they’re not dry.”

  Pulling the mobile command post up to the pumps—battered and bloodied zombies immediately began to swarm around them—hitting violently at the reinforced metal of the vehicle. Opening the hatch, each survivor carefully climbed atop.

  Mark peered off to the distance of the store. “We’re going to have to first get these pumps turned on. And we need inside that store to do it.”

  “Come on back down,” Sheriff Houser yelled, seconds before starting back up the command post’s engine.

  The survivors climbed back down the hatch. Sheriff Houser quickly threw the command post in reverse—punching the gas. As the vehicle’s tail end whipped around—the surmounting dead could be seen out the window being knocked to the ground. The Sheriff then put it into drive and took off towards the front of the store at an angle. The survivors bounced violently as the large vehicle went up onto the curb—coming to a rest partially inside the store. It took only a second to figure out what was happening. “Guy’s, we now have access to the entire store,” the sheriff said. “Remain on guard. Be careful.”

  Mark opened up the passenger-side-door and stepped down with his guns drawn. Mark and Sheriff Houser made a quick check of the storefront, searching down each aisle, even behind the counter. Tyler and Jake stood around at the entrance of the store, double checking amongst the tossed around displays of snacks that none of the zombies still accumulating out front could somehow get in. Sifting through the trashed storefront, the area was presumed safe. Each survivor was a lot like a kid in a candy-store, loading supplies, but only after their pockets couldn’t hold any more.

  The Sheriff alongside Mark continued to check the back of the store for danger.

  “Don’t hurt me!” a soft feminine sounding voice shouted, just as a female stepped out of the shadows.

  “I’m Deputy Mark Smith, I’m not going to hurt you.”

  “Thanks! I’ve been in here alone for over three weeks now—I think? I’m Amanda by the way.”

  “You need to come with us,” Mark said, reaching out for the young store clerk’s hand.

  With Mark returning to the front of the store—Private Ricketts quickly opened one of the cooler doors trying to eagerly grab the last bottle of soda. From behind the thin plastic racks within the not-so-cold freezer, and once his hand was exposed—a snarling zombie viscously bit a chunk out of the young soldier’s hand.

  Private Ricketts quickly withdrew his hand, crying out in pain, “Ah! Ah!”

  From within the freezer, more than one zombie was now riled up. Their presence was now known. The beverage racks began shaking—vicious pairs of dead hands began hitting—and clawing through the racks of beverages: knocking glass bottles and cans off of the shelf, causing them to bust all over the freezer floor below.

  “Rrrah! Rrrah!” the pair of deathly zombies screeched—fiercely attacking.

  Dead, cut up, slashed, and lacerated flesh—angrily extended arms reached outward—swiping and clawing at the group.

  “They’re stuck,” Mark said, carefully aiming his two twin pistols red-dot sights at each of the zombies sopping wet heads—blasting them both dead at exactly the same time.

  “Why didn’t you warn us?” Mark shouted, angered at the young store worker.

  Amanda took her time to answer. “Well, I just didn’t think about it. I’ve been hiding in the back for nearly three weeks. After I trapped them in the freezer, it took them nearly two weeks to get calmed down before they forgot about me… I’m sorry.”

  Private Ricketts finished wrapping a bandana around his wound. “It’s not her fault. I was just being carless.”

  “Well let’s finish loading everything up and get out of here,” Sheriff Houser said irritably.

  The group began loading the last of the store merchandise onto the mobile command post. Mark flipped the switch at the register, turning on the gas pump. “We’re lucky this place wasn’t ransacked weeks ago.”

  With everything loaded neatly into the back, Sheriff Houser threw the command post back into reverse. With hordes of zombies now following the vehicles every move, the Sheriff circled the parking lot before pulling up next to a pump. Jake and Tyler climbed to the roof, creating a distraction. Tyler fired his shotgun off into the viscous crowd, then dangled off of the roof a little, drawing the zombies to one side. The rest of the group watched as Mark unlatched the window nearest to the pump. With the zombies unaware of anyone but Jake and Tyler—Mark quickly reached through to the pump—grabbing the nozzle before cautiously keying in any button to hurry the transaction.

  Mark brought the nozzle in and propped the window loosely back into place. With the group’s help, he began filling up jug after jug of fresh gasoline. Once the group had all of the fuel they could carry, they set the nozzle back outside. And as soon as Jake and Tyler came back down from the roof, the group with their newest survivor Amanda headed out to get the next items on their list. Pulling out of the parking lot, the mobile command post became stuck. “They’re everywhere,” the Sheriff said. “They’ve got us bumper to bumper.”

  Coming to a near stand-still, Mark climbed to the roof and stepped over to the edge. Giving the command post enough space, he pulled the pin from a grenade, tossing it out into an approaching crowd. Mark crawled swiftly back over to the hatch as the explosion sent zombies flying to the ground in nearly every direction. The Sheriff drove carefully through the thinned out horde, making his way back out onto the less congested main road towards the local hardware store. With Private Ricketts riving in pain, the trip hadn’t been a very pleasant one. Rounding every corner and hitting every bump caused the young soldier’s headache to grow worse. With the virus steadily taking over—Private Ricketts readily took out the Anti-virus he had stored in his bag.

  Throughout their trip through town, buildings, stores, and shops were no doubt being overrun by zombies: from everyone’s view-point, some
of the shops were barricaded, and all boarded up. Madness was all around. Having become occupied with other things, everyone was unaware of Private Ricketts next move. The zombie virus infected soldier tied the bandana around his forearm. With his veins beginning to bulge, he readily took the needle, injecting the Anti-virus into his bloodstream.

  “Stop,” Mark said. “That stuff’s dangerous. The last guy that took it ended up dead in less than an hour.”

  Tyler quickly rushed on over and saw the empty vile.

  “Why is everybody looking at me like that?” the young Soldier asked, starting to worry a little.

  “Didn’t Mark just tell you? We had someone in our group badly injured and infected… he took the same medicine and we’re almost sure that could have been what killed him,” Tyler said, trying to think back a couple of weeks.

  The young soldier began to get nervous and started sweating. “Well why would our government issue us something that would kill us?” Private Ricketts asked, trying to make sense of it all.

  Beginning to feel weak, Private Ricketts looked around at all of the survivors. “Besides I overheard the group saying it had worked miracles on you Mark.”

  Before Mark could give a response the young Soldier went unconscious, hitting his head on the table in front of him.

  As Mark checked Private Ricketts vital signs—there was still some activity. Although very weak, Mark could feel the young soldier’s heartbeat.

  Having arrived at the hardware store, the whole group now gathered around the unconscious soldier.

  “He’s dead!” Mark said, delivering the news.

  “What happened?” Private Green asked.

  Tyler hopped up out of his seat. “Well, he got bit… he took the Anti-virus or whatever. And from our experience that Anti-virus has the potential to kill a man. Even though it completely cured Mark, we found that in some people it almost immediately kills them. And that’s what happened.”