Way of the Undead

by Boggess, Michael

  Joe backed away as the kick had caught him by surprise. Mark spun—swiftly rolling to his feet—entering into a Kokutsu-Dachi karate stance readying himself for the fight to come. As soon as Mark had got to his feet—Joe came in swinging violently.

  With Mark’s arms extended—he casually blocked the heavy, powerful punches, redirecting them away as if they were nothing. Mark delivered a powerful spin side-kick to Joe’s rib-cage causing him to back away in pain as he now had a few broken ribs to contend with. Fighting through the pain—Joe ran in for what was to be another tackle. As Joe ran at full speed—Mark quickly stepped to the side—ducking while at the same time using his heel to perform an outside foot sweep to take the approaching foe off balance and hard to the floor. After Joe got up and as he struggled to maintain his footing, Mark followed up with a powerful and precise spinning-hook kick to the back of his bitter foe’s head—embedding the sharp spikes of his centuries–old ninja climbing cleats deep into the back of Joe’s skull. As Joe now lay unconscious, the all black, hooded figure stood over him gripping the crowbar. Mark knew that Joe was too dangerous to just let live. He also knew that it might be too much of a risk to try and take him back as a prisoner.

  As Mark thought about all the doors around town that had been pried open by the use of a crowbar, there was little to no doubt that Joe had been responsible for it all: there was no doubt that if anyone had survived the altercation with Joe, they probably had been bound, tied, and gagged like the hostage lying motionless near the apartments kitchen table. Suddenly, Joes heavily bloodshot, glazed over eyes opened. He then let out an almost zombie-like growl. Mark raised the crowbar high-above the center of his chest—then in the blink of an eye he swiftly thrust the crowbar through the undead gang leader’s heart. With the death of Joe, Mark made his way over to untie the hostage.

  With no more apparent dangers, the pillowcase was drawn up from over the nearby hostage’s head revealing the face of a blood covered and mangled zombie.

  “A zombie decoy,” Mark said aloud, looking away in disgust.

  Mark gathered his weapons: placing his six-shooters back in their holsters before strapping his MP-7 submachine gun onto his back.

  As Mark walked over to pick up his katana sword—he swiftly pulled out one of his six-shooters and shot the zombie hostage dead as it had begun to squirm. The loud gunshot riled up any nearby zombie. Heavy beating and clawing seemed to weaken the front door of the apartment, as Joe’s undead corpse somehow began to reanimate.

  At around 0600 hours, near the foot of Lookout Mountain, Jake and the rest of the deputies continued to wait at the designated rendezvous area. From within the darkness of night a rumbling was heard. The deputies readied their M-16’s for any possible dangers that could be coming. As the rumbling became louder, the team of deputies began to get nervous.

  “Do you hear that?” Sensei Williams asked. “What could that be? No headlights.”

  M-16’s were drawn. Nearing the location of his deputies, behind the controls of his very own highly powered and armored M1A1 Army Tank, Mark halted the tank on its tracks.

  From halfway out of the loader’s hatch, Mark stared down at his men as they began to quickly lower their weapons.

  “Sheriff, we sure are glad to see you,” Sensei Williams said.

  “What’s happened to Tyler? Is everyone all right?” Mark questioned.

  The deputies looked around at one another, unsure as to who should relay the news.

  After a brief moment of silence, Steven explained, “Your brother’s been bit. It was one of the older gentlemen we saved from the hardware store. No one knew he had been bit… not even anyone he was staying with. The old-timer bit one of the younger children named Charlie and as Tyler tried to pull the zombie off of him—he got bit viciously on the hand.”

  “How are they doing… are they okay?” Mark asked in a panic.

  From within the group of deputies, Jake stepped forward. “Tyler’s in a comma. We don’t really know the reason, but we feel it was because of the Anti-virus he took. We had the one vial left back at camp, and we had two people in need. Tyler injected half of the vial into him and left the other half for Charlie. Charlie, unfortunately passed away less than thirty minutes after injection, whereas Tyler has been in a deep coma for almost six-hours now fighting a severe fever.”

  Chapter 33 way of the undead

  High atop of Lookout Mountain, Stephanie and the rest of the survivors began placing homemade crafts all over the hotel, decorating for Halloween. After Joe and his gang’s death, the group of survivors rejoiced. There was now a broader sense of peace in everyone’s lives. As October 31st approached, out in a field, a huge bonfire was lit. To forget about their troubles, if even for a short time, a cookout was enjoyed. Apart from their many struggles over the past month, and even as Tyler continued to lay unconscious in a coma—the survivors put all of their fears and worries to the side as they began to prepare for the holiday to come. Two days had passed since Mark had returned to the hotel to find Tyler fighting to stay alive, suffering a deep coma.

  From the looks of his brother’s health, he wasn’t about to come around anytime soon and it had been only after they had administered an IV into his arm that the fever began to subside. With Tyler in need of medical equipment, a day prior, the survivors went ahead and made a special run to gather up any piece of state of the art medical equipment they could find.

  The scavenging group returned with two abandoned ambulances worth of equipment that Mark had taken from a walk in clinic dangerously overran by zombies. Steven, with all of his medical training and in light of the lack of life saving equipment to save Sheriff Houser, a small area at the Pine View Hotel was designated a medical center. After having set-up all of the new equipment, the survivors, especially Mark watched Tyler’s condition for even the slightest changes as the whole situation had brought nothing but grief. With Halloween drawing near—Stephanie tried her best to lighten the mood. It seemed after the attack, not even their safe haven was safe from the undead plague.

  Three days later on the night of the big Halloween party—everyone finally got to enjoy the feast alongside the bonfire.

  Each survivor came decked out in their best homemade Halloween costume. It seemed the first night in what felt like a lifetime anyone could relax—putting the past to rest and their uneasiness about the future to the side. Even during the festivities, in the wide-open field, given a cool mountain breeze, Mark kept a diligent eye on Tyler. On the brink of death, and going on what was now his fifth day in a comma, someone needed to be responsible.

  From out of nowhere—James jumped out from behind a truck dressed like a ghost. “Boo!” young James shouted anxiously from behind his shabby homemade costume.

  From under the sheet James laughed hysterically, watching through the two misshapen holes that had been cut into the white sheet. A few survivors took it upon themselves to run for their lives. Jake stood his ground, dressed in his varsity football jersey with fake blood splatter covering his entire face. Jake’s ghastly appearance made his large jock-like stature seem even more imposing. As the survivors tried to enjoy the night of fun and games, it was often wondered what horrors might actually await in a far-stretched apocalyptic era.

  The renovations around the hotel had been tedious, even for Mark, compounded by the fact that he had been quite sleep deprived of late while constantly worrying over his brother’s non-changing condition.

  Over the past few days, Mark and his men had been laboring over many different odd jobs within and around the hotel. Now that the repairs are underway, loading supplies for the days labor, the survivors had begun the process of fixing anything that needed to be fixed. With the use of one of the new survivors from the hardware store, a carpenter by trade, the group of survivors had started to work together, fortifying the hotel and grounds from any unforeseen zombie invasion.

  Around the middle of November, at rest comfortably in the make-shift hospital at the P
ine View Hotel, Tyler continued to lay unconscious with no signs of coming out of it anytime soon. Snow began to fall for almost two days straight. Almost four foot of snow with drifts registering at almost seven feet at points put a halt to production on Mark’s next project deep within a cavern at the mountains edge. The small cave that was found, once reinforced, was to be the perfect place for a bunker. It was to be the perfect place to protect any of the survivors from a reoccurring nightmare that Mark had been having over the past month—where a burst of large-scale radiation in the form of an atomic bomb was let loose somewhere over America.

  Many nights, Mark’s many unusual dreams had continued to deprive him of sleep, but it was far better to be safe than sorry he felt.

  With snow nearly up to the survivors’ waists, it was a little hard to maneuver around—much less play in. But, due to the speculation of how the extreme cold and severe weather might affect a zombies physiology—the group of survivors were hopeful that the frigid temperature might be enough to subdue and fracture the creatures unusual brains. The thought of such things brought on hope that nature might help do their dirty work. Attempting to build a snowman, secretly a few survivors geared up for the snowball fights to come. Upon the mountain, safe, secure, and in seclusion, the first snow of the winter was enjoyable.

  “Watch me go,” James shouted, taking a running start down a hill before sinking deep face first into the snow, proving the snow was way to be too deep to be sled in.

  Even Mark laughed at the sight. And for Mark, laughs just seemed wrong. They made him feel guilty that he was neglecting his brother’s condition. It seemed happiness wasn’t something he deserved until Tyler was healthy.

  Mark and Stephanie snuck off behind the hotel to enjoy one another’s company.

  As the two stood near the edge of the mountain, they watched over the snow-filled valley below.

  “It’s beautiful!” Stephanie said as she began to shiver.

  “It is… I just wish we could tell what was going on down there,” Mark said as he stepped over and put his arms around Stephanie’s waist, trying to keep her warm.

  Mark looked over at Stephanie with her red nose and rosy red cheeks due to the cold, admiring every contour of her face as her breath had become visible within the frosty mountain air.

  Stephanie began to squint, trying her best to see through the thick haze of her mountain surroundings towards town. “I bet their freezing just like us.”

  “Well they are biological creatures…just like you and me. If something could kill our brain, I’m sure it could kill them just the same. Don’t count it… they probably have some sort of ornate sense of discomfort and have found shelter. I just don’t know.”

  Once the snow began to melt, the weather continually worsened, causing the formation of solid sheets of ice. With Mark and his team of deputies daily patrols postponed, the survivors set around enjoying each other’s company. The group gathered around and competitively began to play cards while sipping on a fresh pot of hot cocoa.

  Having promised to continue his black belt training, Mark and Sensei Williams, after having finished turning the hotel’s unused ball room into a dojo, complete with workout equipment, they began to spare. Mark’s oath to train weekly had turned into weeks due to the move—but now that everyone was settled in—Mark’s training could commence as he worked his way toward the honor of second-degree black belt. Around mid-November the sun began to shine, if only slightly, and as a relief somewhat warmer weather found its way up the mountain. For the time of year, it was only to be considered short lived; however, the survivors felt it was more than a welcome change from the cloudy and dreary days of sub-freezing temperatures. As the weather had changed and after a few days of hard labor, Mark was finally finished attaching solar panels onto the hotel’s exterior. The panels were to generate enough energy to give the hotel at least six hours of working power a day, storing any excess or unused energy into a battery system that had also been installed.

  Along with the solar panels, the process of collecting and storing rainwater had become a concern prior to the large snowfall from which snow was collected and melted down and stored by the gallons.

  Due to the concern of running low on water for drinking and bathing, ways to collect copious amounts of rainwater, given the use of six fifty-five gallon drums were underway. Mark began the collection process by making a large filter for each drum out of a thick mesh material and a layer of sand and gravel. The water was then boiled over an open flame at around 100 degrees Celsius to kill the impurities, sterilizing the water before storage. Over time the group took on more survivors, over every scavenging mission, individuals or whole families, who by that time had exhausted all other means of survival joined the group.

  The Pine View Hotel was now a working community of survivors. In Mark’s opinion, there were no bad apples out of the bunch.

  The trips to town didn’t just bring more survivors, but also the gathering of extra supplies that would have otherwise been lost. With “no stone left unturned,” and over the next month, Mark and his men had an idea of the overall landscape, knowing exactly where to search next. As the hordes of zombies had almost all migrated down the mountain on their own due to gravity, Mark and his men put down any one left straggling around unwanted.

  One day, after Mark was nearing completion on the survivalist bunker—the group heard a noise echoing over the mountaintops. Over the horizon, a helicopter made its way, rising just over the tree tops to the East. The survivors thought about signaling for help—but all had become weary as to who might be behind the controls.

  Mark put down his tools and cautiously started to walk out into the middle of the field as the helicopter began to descend. Mark had little doubt as to who it was; he knew that Frank had promised to return to take everyone to safety. As the helicopter landed, Mark hung his head a little as the wind from the massive propellers kicked up dust and debris all around. Once the engine died down and its blades became slower and slower, a small door opened. Frank stepped down on to the wet dew covered grass and walked away from the helicopter over to where Mark waited, alone.

  “Mark Smith… I see you’re making the best out of this old place,” Frank said, competing over the chopper as they each walked further away from the noisy aircraft.

  Mark looked around over the farm. “Yeah, it’s been a life saver.”

  “I’ve got some news about your father. It seems that he isn’t dead,” Frank said just before being interrupted.

  “What do you mean? Where is he?” Mark asked frantically.

  Frank looked over the land, then back around at Mark.

  “The day my men and I went to find him and had got into an altercation with the Statesman Society, it turns out that he wasn’t dead. For whatever reason they never killed him; they only took him prisoner. But somehow they found out that like you, he has a genotype that can withstand the effects of the Anti-virus.”

  “How do you know about me and what can you tell me about the Anti-virus?” Mark questioned.

  “My men and I have been watching you by use of a high-powered-satellite we can access. I know what you are capable of, plus I witnessed some of these feet’s on security camera from within the panic room when we first met. It’s rare that the Anti-virus works on anyone, but when it does—It gives the survivor remarkable power. It’s not fully understood by my top-scientists just yet, but what we do know is that the Statesmen are using your dad to help make a Super Army,” Frank explained, as he could tell that Mark was stunned by the news.

  “Where’s my dad… could I try and save him?” Mark asked, concerned for his father’s life.

  “Mark… your father’s fine. Somehow the Statesmen have worked out a deal with your father, he’s working with them.”

  A look of disgust came over Mark’s already troubled face. “What? He’s working with the Statesmen?”

  “Don’t take it the wrong way, your father is a good man. He doesn’t know that you
and your brother are still alive. He was told that no one has survived or possibly could survive the outbreak. His only option was to work with the men who had kidnapped him,” Frank said, trying to reassure.

  “What all do you know about the Anti-virus? Is there a way to save my brother? He’s been bitten, and then he took only half of a vial of the Anti-virus. The other half was given to another who had been bitten. My brother’s laid now in a comma for nearly a month. Not alive, not quite dead,” Mark said, searching for even the tiniest bit of info.

  “I’m assuming the other guy died. Your family is special. Your brother might pull through, but I really don’t know for sure what is happening in him. The process varies in many individuals, my team of doctors and scientists have said that only around five percent of the population are capable of being saved by the Anti-virus, while the other’s die quite often without transformation. But… since your brother only took half of an injection, who knows how his body is responding. I would honestly let it try and work itself out on its own,” Frank warned as he reached deep into one of his pockets.

  “Don’t worry, I’ll just continue to wait,” Mark said sadly.

  Frank pulled out a plastic bag from his pocket and handed it to Mark. “This is yours. It’s about five samples of a new working vaccine. It’s not an Anti-virus, it’s a vaccine, it work’s differently. It’s a preemptive measure, whereas the Anti-virus is to be taken after the fact of infection. My men are vigorously working on acquiring and perfecting more.”

  “Thanks!” Mark said sincerely—putting the vials deep in his coat pocket.

  “How many is in your group now?” Frank asked, looking off towards the large out-stretched hotel as the survivors began to look on curiously from the covered porch.