Rise of Chaos

by Griffin Smith

  Prologue

  It all began in Miami, where Annihilation was introduced. It was marketed as a perfectly legal high, and sold as a mind blowing herbal incense. This psychoactive designer drug was similar to the synthetic cannabis K2 and was quick to get banned, but the damage had already been done.

  The underground chemists that created this drug had been one step ahead, and by continuing to alter the chemical compositions and mixtures ever so slightly, they were able to keep it legal. When it was available on the market, hundreds of people flocked to the second-rate gas stations, tobacco and head shops to take it home.

  Unfortunately, when Annihilation is snorted, smoked, or injected, it causes the human body to be irreversibly changed.

  According to the news before the city fell, it was reported that the drug contains MDPV and it’s mixed with an East African plant called Khat. When the human body is exposed to this combination it causes catastrophic side effects. It starts with an increased heart rate, extreme anxiety/agitation, numbness in the arms and legs, collapse and death. And then, approximately two hours later, reanimation. In all reported cases.

  They rise from the dead with no thoughts, no conscience, no memory, only the most basic need. The need to feed. They become crazed cannibals, violently assaulting any living being that they see. The police and media aptly named them feeders.

  When the outbreak first started, no one saw this coming and most people were mowed down like grass. Women, children and the elderly were the first victims. The worst part is, that it doesn’t just end there. These feeders are carrying a virus which is highly contagious. If they scratch, bite or any of their bodily fluids become intertwined with a living human being, they will become infected. Within a few short hours they will drop dead and become re-animated into a mindless, flesh craving lunatic.

  The city of Miami was not prepared to deal with this type of cataclysmic event. The media broadcast the first televised encounter of the Annihilation epidemic. Security cameras on the Herald building, in downtown Miami, showed a feeder attacking a sixty-five year old homeless man sleeping on a bench. The feeder viciously attacked his helpless victim and ripped his skin away while eating and chewing off his face.

  The video showed the first cop arrive on the scene and approach the feeder. He shouted at him to stop with his gun drawn and ready, but the feeder only looked at the cop for a brief second and growled at him like a wild animal, and then returned to eating the man’s face. The officer fired and scored three shots center mass on the cannibal. This immediately dropped the feeder on top of his meal, and the cop moved in for a closer look.

  The anxiety on the cop’s face was plain as day, as he looked around searching for his back-up that hadn’t arrived yet. He made the decision to move forward, and used his foot to move the feeder, rolling him off the bench and onto the ground.

  He stood, oblivious and transfixed by the victim, and leaned over him to inspect his wounds, when he felt a hand on his shoulder bring him back to reality. It was his partner, or a fellow officer, and it startled the hell out of him. They both stared in awe as they saw how the victim’s face, eyes and nose were torn off during the attack.

  The footage then showed the officers setting up a crime scene and on their radios, when the second officer abruptly dropped. The feeder had gotten up and attacked the officer by biting him in the groin. His partner quickly reacted and was bitten in the neck by the faceless homeless man, who had been infected and reanimated. After that, it was a complete bloodbath as the cops were eaten alive.

  The news then reported an insurrection in Little Havana, violent attacks happening simultaneously from Coconut Grove to Liberty City. They tried to quarantine it, control it, contain it, but one attack turned into ten, ten turned into a hundred, a hundred into a thousand etc…

  Miami fell to the feeders, the city was a total loss.

  ****

  Episode 1

  (Annihilation)

  “Fuck!” Mason muttered aloud to himself.

  He was curled up in his makeshift guard tower trying to get some sleep when, off in the distance, he heard and smelled them coming. He had been walking his way up the eastern Florida coast since the outbreak started, trying to not get mangled, eaten or ripped limb from limb.

  The sun had just cracked over the horizon, and the gentle waves crashing against the beach made for a picturesque scene. Until he got a visual on the trio of feeders coming his way. Last night, Mason had found a lifeguard stand lying on its side. He lifted it up so that he had his back to the Atlantic Ocean, and so he had a direct view of his left and right flanks as well as a wide open swath of beach before him. After a long night’s walk, he had managed to get a few hours of sleep, but it looked like that was going to change.

  He studied the gruesome threesome as they retardedly tried to walk, but were fumbling down the beach. What a bunch of ugly, disgusting mother fuckers, he thought. He grabbed his trusty Estwing Camper's Ax and slowly climbed down the lifeguard stand.

  The deep, coarse sand slowed down the feeders considerably, giving Mason an upper hand for close quarters combat. He angled his way to engage them one at a time. The first one he encountered looked as if he was a homeless beach bum in his previous life. Mason stopped in macabre and studied him closely; he was wearing a straw hat and a dirty, bloody pair of shorts. As Mason moved closer to this disgusting creature, he noticed that it was ripping out its own intestines and flicking them in Mason’s direction.

  “Ugh…You nasty piece of shit!” Mason shouted, as he wielded his ax in a perfect arc, splitting the feeder’s skull from forehead to chin. As his kill crumpled before him, Mason suddenly realized that he had misjudged the speed of these creatures and that the second one was coming up behind him, and only inches away.

  In one fluid motion, Mason jerked his back over his left shoulder, slamming the butt of his ax into the feeder’s eye socket. That was all it took to put an end to that little sneaky bastard for good.

  Mason yanked his ax back forward and took a quick scan of his latest kill before he came face to face with the last of the three feeders. His opponent stood before him, grinding his teeth, drooling blood, and a split second away from overrunning him due to his pure size alone. He was a monster unto himself; this feeder was about 6ft 11’ and had to be well over three hundred pounds.

  Mason reacted like a wild animal. He viciously swung his ax at the feeder’s outer thigh, severing the flesh eater’s right leg and dropping him onto the sand like a beached whale. Blood lust took over and Mason started swinging his ax into the feeder’s face over and over and over.

  Several minutes later, Mason got control of himself and stared at the monster that he had just hacked into a bloody, lifeless pulp. Annihilation, he thought. How could it all have come to this? His mind wandered back to how it all started and why he found himself in this precarious situation.

  ****

  Mason was using the ocean to wash away the blood from his ax when he sensed something was afoot. He spun around with his ax raised to strike, when he saw a little Boston terrier puppy running towards him. He lowered his ax and leaned over to pet the dog that was sniffing his ankles. “Look at you, little fella,” Mason said,, as he was petting and scratching his new little friend.

  “So what’s your name, little buddy?” Mason said, as he was glad to have someone else around that wasn’t trying to eat him.

  “Cujo. Cujo, come here boy.” Mason heard, off in the distance.

  “Really, your name is Cujo?” Mason chuckled.

  “Hey, he’s over here,” Mason shouted back. Onto the beach walked a stunningly beautiful girl in her early twenties.

  “Who the hell are you?” She said, as she pulled a 9mm Beretta from her waistline.

 
“Whoa now … take it easy” Mason said, as he was staring down the barrel that was now pointed at him and about six feet away from his face.

  “I was just passing through, and your dog came up to me,” Mason said, with a smile.

  “Cujo, get your mangy dog ass over here now!” she barked, as her Boston terrier promptly obeyed and went right over to her.

  “You have a way with words, I like your style,” Mason said. “I’ve been walking up the coast, trying to stay alive and kill as many of these fucking feeders as I can.”

  “Well, I’m glad you're not infected, or I would have had to shoot you in the head,” she said, as she lowered her weapon.

  “Where am I? I’ve been walking for days,” he asked.

  “You're right smack in the middle of Cocoa Beach,” she said, as she was petting Cujo.

  “Is it safe here? Are there more survivors? Have you heard any news?” Mason asked, curiously.

  “No, it’s definitely not safe here; we should probably move before they come. You can come with me if you like; there are a couple of us holding up in a beach house across the street. I’ll fill you in on all of the details that I know, and we have some food if you're hungry,” she said, genuinely wanting him to come with her.

  “Sounds like a plan,” Mason instantly agreed. “Hey, what’s your name by the way?” he asked.

  “Pualani… ok, come on then, let’s go,” she said, as she picked up her dog and started walking.

  “Pualani, what the hell kinda name is that?” he asked, as he started jogging to keep up with her.

  “It’s a Hawaiian name.”

  As he caught up to her, Mason was taken aback by her beauty. She had long black hair, about 5ft 1’ and maybe a hundred pounds, soaking wet. She had round, full lips with Asian eyes and a perfect derriere.

  “So, you’re Hawaiian then, and you’re in Florida? Long way from home it looks like,” Mason said, as he was trying to make conversation.

  “Yep, my dad was Hawaiian Chinese, and my mom was Irish,” she said, as she smiled at him.

  “Wow, that’s one hell of a mix. Maybe you should run for president,” Mason said, as he laughed out loud.

  As they walked over the beach access, they stopped dead in their tracks. There were about twenty feeders in the parking lot, milling about. He grabbed her and motioned for her to crouch down next to him.

  “Man… I hate these sons of bitches. How many rounds do you have in that clip? Do you have any other weapons?" he asked, “I don’t think they’ve seen us yet.”

  “I’ve got a full clip, fifteen plus one in the chamber, I think. We can’t take them all out, there are too many, let’s just go back,” she said, shaking. And then, Cujo started yapping like a dog possessed.

  “Oh my god, shut that dog up,” Mason said as he looked at the dog, and suddenly realized the dog was barking to warn them of about five feeders coming up behind them on the beach access path.

  The Feeders in the parking lot had heard the dog barking and were making their way towards them now also. Mason grabbed the gun out of Pualani's hand and stood up. “Follow me and stay close!” He said, with a look of murder in his eyes.

  “Hey you! Do you want some… C’mon!” Mason shouted as he ran towards the vicious pack of monsters that were moving towards him. As he came up on the first feeder, he slammed the barrel of his newly acquired Beretta into its forehead and pulled the trigger.

  A loud pop was clearly audible as the back of the feeder’s head exploded onto the ground.

  “Pualani! I’m going to create a diversion for you. Run! And get the hell outta here as fast as you can,” Mason shouted as he simultaneously blasted a feeder and decapitated another with a backhand swing of his ax.

  “No, Wait - There are too many, you won’t make it.” She said as she stood in awe of this man as he moved through the feeders with suicidal rage, using his ax like a tomahawk and slaughtering feeders as he drew them away from her. She couldn’t wait any longer, she saw an opening and, clutching her dog, she ran.

  Mason had successfully drawn off the feeders, but he was almost out of ammo and was wearing down. There were bashed in headless corpses all strewn throughout the parking lot. He had got himself pinned down and was now utterly surrounded and hopelessly outnumbered. He had climbed onto a gazebo about 4ft off the ground and had the advantage of higher ground, but was totally isolated. Well this is gonna be it, he thought. At least Pualani got away.

  He considered standing on top of the railing and diving head first into the feeders, swinging his ax with every ounce of energy he had left. Until he saw a brilliant flash, and heard the harmonious sounds of small arms gunfire.

  The grenade had knocked Mason flat on his back, and all he could hear were bells ringing and the beautiful sight of feeders getting picked off like fish in a barrel. It only took a second for Mason to get his wits back, but there was no mistaking the sounds of automatic rifles. After the smoke cleared, he saw two men with AK-47s slaughtering feeders with ease.

  “Hey!...If you wanna live, come to us now, we are getting low on ammo,” the man shouted.

  Mason tucked his empty Beretta into his belt and jumped off the railing into the parking lot and ran to the two men, taking the jaw clean off one of the feeders that was blocking his path on the way over.

  “Follow us,” the man said as they all ran for their lives. They made it across the street and into the back gate of a town house. They immediately got inside and closed and locked the doors. Mason was the last one through and, upon entering, he saw Pualani sitting on the couch with Cujo nuzzled in her lap.

  “I’m glad to see you made it,” she said, genuinely happy.

  “I was a goner for sure if it wasn’t for these guys, thank you!” Mason said as he put his hand out to thank his rescuers. “My name is Mason Briggs, and I owe both of you big time, for saving my ass,” he said, still a little shaken. “I thought I was fucking done.”

  “Feck it man, It’s her I do be thinking of, and you saved her arse, so that does be making us even,” he said, in an Irish brogue. “Me name is Barry, an' me friends called me 'Irish Barry', and this lad is Brody.”

  “You killed a shitload of those bastards with that ax, impressive,” Brody said as he extended his hand for a shake.

  ****

  The four of them stayed up all night, sitting at the kitchen table drinking cans of Yuengling, and getting to know each other. At first, there were quite a few heated exchanges between Barry, Brody and Pualani about how she recklessly left the town house to search for Cujo without an escort, but that soon abated into laughter and promises of never doing it again.

  Mason was happy to be a part of this newly found group and, from what he could tell, they had all worked together at a restaurant/resort in Cocoa Beach, when the outbreak started. They had wild stories of customers from the previous night returning as hungry feeders. They came back for dinner, but not for the Cuban sandwiches or the burgers. They came for flesh and blood, rare. Still walking, if possible.

  They told the story of how they had barely made it out alive—with only Irish Barry’s cleaver—and made it onto the beach to hide until they found a suitable safe house. The town house that they found was not abandoned, but belonged to a friend of Brody’s who was a conspiracy theorist and a survivalist. Brody knew this was a perfect place to hide and reorganize, because he would be well stocked with weapons, supplies and beer.

  Unfortunately, they got a little more than they bargained for when they came knocking on the door. They could see through the window that their friend, Juan, had been infected and was sitting on the couch feasting upon a naked female.

  After a closer inspection, Brody became enraged when he realized that the naked female being dismembered by Juan was his ex-wife. Brody had lost any semblance of control and dove through the window head first, creating such a ruckus that even Juan became distracted from his meal.

  In a fit of rage, Brody solidly kicked Juan in the solar plexus, knocking
him head over heels and into the bathroom. He motioned towards Irish Barry to toss him the cleaver and, when he had it in his hand, he walked up to Juan and lodged that cleaver into the top of his head.

  Barry and Pualani were able to secure a couple of AK-47’s, assorted handguns and grenades that were scattered on the ground, while Brody murderously hacked Juan into pieces. A bloody Brody emerged from the bathroom to wish his cheating ass ex-wife a final farewell, when what was left of her pathetic, mangled body became re-animated, and started to slide herself towards Barry. “Not today, Cunt!” was all you could hear as Barry took the butt of his AK-47 and smashed it into her face several times, emptying her brain bucket all over the rug.

  After they had dragged what was left of the bodies outside and onto the deck, they sat and watched them burn in the chimnea. Pualani had begged Barry and Brody to come with her to retrieve Cujo. They reluctantly agreed and retrieved the dog without incident. After returning to the town house, they secured the windows and blocked off all of the possible entry points. They also found several cases of beer. By now, there was no power, and the entire infrastructure in Cocoa Beach had utterly collapsed. They were able to use the remaining charge on Juan’s laptop to ascertain that Florida had been marked a total loss.

  The state had a coastal blockade and was locked down on all sides. The headline on the cached page of Yahoo news was Rise of Chaos and Florida Falls to the Annihilation Epidemic. The only direction for survivors was to hunker down and wait for help. The entire state was infected and under government quarantine. As far as they knew, the border with Georgia was where the infection ended.

  They sat around the kitchen table, finishing off what was left of the beer and discussing their next move. “Well, we can’t stay here forever, and I’m not waiting for any help because they're not coming,” Brody said as he let out a momentous beer belch.

  “Agreed, we’re fucking sitting ducks here, we need to find supplies and fortify a position,” Mason chimed in.