by Daniel White
Chapter 1
For a man and his dog, driving down the road in the family truck was supposed to be something special. Man and man’s best friend hanging out, enjoying the scenic vistas off the side of the road, and letting the wind blow through their hair and fur. Eric Bayne looked over at the dog that had hung around him for months now. Bart was sitting up hanging his head out the truck window, tongue lolling in the wind. When they were left without the truck, Bart always sat in the back in the commandeered car. Since then, they had literally fought to get the truck back; he had sat in the cab every time. No matter how many times Eric tried to keep him from it, he somehow wound up hopping in the passenger seat at the opportune moment. Instead of being happy about that, Eric couldn’t quite get accustomed to a dog riding shotgun. Lucky for him, Bart didn’t seem to give a damn what he thought.
That was the only other problem with the man and dog arrangement here. Bart didn’t seem to care that much about Eric, except hanging around to have good source of water and food. Eric cared so little that he didn’t feel like wasting energy trying to get rid of his furry companion. All in all it seemed to work out well with their mutual disinterest. Eric wouldn’t be necessarily fair if he refused Bart the chance to sit in the truck that he literally bit and clawed his way to just a short time ago.
The confrontation at the train yard had transpired until early dawn hours. Eric and Bart left there on foot with nothing to show for it but the fact that they survived another Zombie onslaught. Between looking for places with clean enough food to eat, dodging areas hopping with zombies and finding fuel for the truck, it took the two of them well into the next night before they worked their way back to the truck.
The ruins of the old gas station were still smoldering and zombies were crawling over the area like roaches. He thought he had witnessed a few more human victims, but had no interest in dealing with it then. Thankfully the truck itself was quite a distance from the exploded station. Since that was where the main flux of zombies were, Eric and Bart were able to sneak around the oblivious zombies to approach the truck from another direction. Now thinking back, he wished he had a rifle to pick those bitches off one at a time from a distance. That was something he would have to work on.
In the end they, only had to fight off a handful of them instead of an immeasurable horde. Bart had moved before Eric and drew the attention of a few. Eric then selected his shotgun as the weapon of choice. Careful not to hit the dog that was drawing attention, he blew enough away that he was able to fight the rest off with hands and feet. He put the fuel into the tank from another station they passed, not caring why the main group of zombies was so interested in the burning station. They sped away and ran down a few more of the zombie bastards on the way out of town.
Deciding his next direction wasn’t much of a choice, anyplace away from here. He knew he was done with his home town. As far as he was concerned, he shouldn’t have gone back with that damned Hawkins either. Thanks to Hawkins however, he knew that the neighboring town was overrun as well. That left an unknown destination. Drive and keep going until he could find the next place to rest. Along the way he had planned to get more gas. He had seen a few stations back in town where people had rigged the gas pumps to flow freely, even though the station was either out of business or overrun with the undead. That made him confident that he would at least be able to find fuel.
For now the road was dark and Bart was sleeping. He had been able to get more fuel already, so that was one less thing to worry about. The tattered black leather jacket he had confiscated was on the seat between the two of them, along with Rayban sunglasses he had taken off of another victim. He wore a t-shirt with an old Metallica album cover printed on it that surprisingly had no rips. The black work boots were in great shape and the only thing left that was originally his. The thick blue denim jeans had rips over the knees and were tattered along the end of each leg. All in all he supposed he looked like he meant to put these pieces of clothing together. It could be worse. His hair was still growing without the option to cut it in in his preferred way. It was now resting at the bottom of his neck and turning an odd wave here and there. He figured he would be able to keep it from getting way too long with a pair of scissors.
It struck him just then that this was one of the few times he had a chance to stop and glance at himself for a few moments. He looked like a soldier fighting a hand to hand war without armor. Scars and wounds healed themselves remarkably well along each limb. He couldn’t remember healing quite that well before all of this started, but he had always had a better than average recovery. With some luck, by the time he was in the next zombie altercation he would be healthy.
He had to adjust to living on less food and water, which was leaving him less muscle and utilizing fat stores. The memory of how much clean water and food had been in the trunk of Hawkins’ car just about made him physically ill. He had the feeling that considering how difficult it already was to find food and water that the load of food that was in that trunk would double and triple in value before long. That was all in the past though. What wasn’t in the past were the questions traversing through Eric’s head. Nothing was okay anymore about the world. That went without saying. There were things he really didn’t understand.
First of all, he had noticed with time that the number of people unaffected by the virus was dwindling down. Before there were at least people running and screaming through the streets or being chased down. In the past few weeks it had gotten to the point where it was shocking to run across a person who was unaffected. It seemed the virus was spreading somehow, disproving his original thought that it started and stopped with the failed military experiment. Something else was going on here. But the question that stayed with him was simple.
Why was he unaffected by the virus? He’d been scratched, clawed and even bitten by these things. If it somehow passed through the blood, saliva, or air he clearly should have it by now. If it was in the water he might not have it since he had been on the run, but then again he still should in all likelihood. But he didn’t. Why not?
Something Hawkins had said brought another recurring question to mind. He had jokingly said that if tons of zombies just seem to be drawn to Eric, he didn’t want to be anywhere near him. Was that true? The young guy surely seemed sincere enough at the time. If more zombies attacked him than others; why? What was it that drew them to a random guy? Was it possible that he was immune to the virus and the extra attention he seemed to get was somehow connected? For now there seemed twice as many questions as there were answers. But then, he wasn’t exactly searching for answers either. Part of him wanted to know, but most of him just wanted to stay a step ahead and stay alive.
**
The drive to the next town turned out to be a very long one. It had been a while since he had driven this direction, and since the only thing to be built between where he was from and here was a lone gas station. It wasn’t operating but Eric had plenty of gas for a while. This was one of the old trucks that had two gas tanks. When he stopped he had been able to fill both up so at least gas wasn’t something he would have to deal with for now.
The rusted green sign at the outskirts of the town read: Welcome to Bearview Park. It was a small town that received very little press or attention. Bearview’s only claim to fame was the large weapons factory that was built here a decade ago. Eric had never been big on news, but he even remembered all of the coverage Sharaan Industrial Weapons received. Half of the area was thrilled for the thousands of jobs the plant brought to the area, while the other half were incensed that a factory in their town would cr
eate weapons that would slay people all over the world. The plant remained in operation and, as far as Eric knew, still was operating. It was the largest weapons plant in the Midwest region of the country. They had every destructive piece of machinery known to human kind either stored or being built at that factory.
That naturally was exactly where Eric was going. Sure, it was impenetrable at one time but Eric figured he would be able to simply walk in now. The final miles between the welcome sign and S.I.W. were completely deserted. This area never was greatly populated, but after driving all night, it was now rush hour. There should have been thousands of cars coming in and out of the large gated entrance. Even more should be lined up on the four-lane road that led to and away from the site. But here he was, on the nicest stretch of road in the entire county and it was completely deserted. There wasn’t even one moving car in sight along the vacuous road. The torched and abandoned cars didn’t count. All in all, he didn’t know whether to be excited or worried.
He stopped the truck and got out calmly and stretched his arms overhead. He looked at the closed gate with a detached glare. He had to admit, he was surprised that the gate remained closed. Still there was no one manning the gate. “Bart, now this really doesn’t seem right does it?” Eric stared at the tall thin gate and crossed his arms. “What if I have serious business to take care of? Here they don’t even have someone for me to talk to. It’s rude Bart. Can you believe it?” The dog huffed as if he could fully understand Eric’s point. Eric looked to him through the window of the truck which was still running, “You know how I feel about rudeness don’t you? No?” Eric stared back at the gate with a thin grin, “Allow me to enlighten you my four-legged friend.”
He hopped back in the truck and revved the engine once. The loud pipes forced Bart to sit up and take notice. Eric grinned, “If you had thumbs I would tell you to buckle up pal. Sorry.” Eric slammed the gas to the floor and the tires screeched as the truck sped towards the gate. As they neared the gate he was glad to be in a big truck instead of a little electric car because he had no idea how bad of a hit this was going to be. To his credit, Bart never ducked fully below the dash as they slammed into the gate.
With a loud clash the gate split apart on impact and the truck scraped through. There would be scratches and deep gouges in the truck from it, but they were through. That was the important thing anyway. Whoever owned this bad boy originally wouldn’t notice a hundred extra scrapes, much less a few. He smiled to Bart, “Not too bad huh? Now the real fun begins.” Bart whined lightly and lay down on the floor where the crash had dumped him. The look he gave seemed to say he was over it. Eric had a quick laugh and drove on towards the office looking side of the complex.
Chapter 2
The alarm was blaring but only in one office. At one time a breach of security like this would have set off alarms that literally would also be heard in Washington D.C. Now it was rigged to sound so only one person could hear it. The right index finger of that very individual calmly silenced the alarm and stood to look outside. Surveillance wasn’t exactly what it once was when this complex ran with thousands of employees. Now the window on the front corner of the office building was as good as it got. The only camera still in working order looked out on the old warehouse, but it was so grainy and out of focus that it didn’t help it all.
A look out the window showed a lone truck screaming its way up the drive and through the parking lot. It appeared that whoever was driving it was trying to draw people out, or perhaps trying to force anyone inside to tip their hand. That wasn’t going to happen. The lone normal human left in the entire complex turned and sat back down at the desk, making sure that the zombie deterring silent alarms were on. If this intruder wanted to find someone at all costs, he probably would survive long enough to do so. When he did, she would be ready. And if it was who she thought it was, he was exactly who she needed to see.
**
One second inside the door and it was already a very interesting place. There was a statue that stood at least eight feet. It was of one soldier holding his weapon under his right arm while he carried one of his brother-in-arms across the other. It was a very dramatic piece of sculpture, if you were into that kind of thing. Perhaps even more interesting than that were the pictures that were on the wall behind the front desk. In chronological order from left to right there were pictures of each of the last four presidents with a handful of staff and each picture was signed. He was tempted to take each of them from the wall just at the chance that there was still a collector somewhere that might pay for them. Then he remembered money probably isn’t worth much these days.
From the front desk, Eric could go either left or right. He knew next to nothing about the place so he randomly chose to go right. The fact that Bart had been with him up until he got inside the building worried him slightly. The way he whined and ran back towards the truck suggested that someone here might have one of those handy zombie repelling devices that the man had at the train yard. He paused for a minute to double check his ammo. All three guns were loaded and ready to fire if they needed to be. He was currently without a melee weapon, but the shotgun had many wonderful uses and surely would suffice.
The calm welcome ended when he rounded the corner. The building apparently was arranged such that the corridor made a large square with the smaller offices all along the perimeter and conference rooms and other miscellaneous rooms sat on the inside. As soon as he turned left for the first time he could see them. There were several, perhaps dozens of zombies visible about halfway down the corridor where it widened out for restrooms. They were just standing and trudging around aimlessly. The only thing keeping it from being a normal water fountain chat was the fact that they weren’t talking and many were wearing blotches of red. That, and the zombie look of course.
For a moment Eric thought about his options. He could easily backtrack and go left from the front desk instead of right. Then again there could be a group over there even closer. Still that was the safest option that made the most sense. He started to turn back but then stopped abruptly. A flash of his brother’s twisted face came to mind. That was followed closely by the haunting images of his gored mother and father. The bastards had taken his entire family away. He gritted his teeth and pulled out both handguns. Suddenly the safe option didn’t seem so great after all. He needed a place to send his anger.
He walked down the middle of the corridor, the sound of his boots echoing off the walls, with a weapon ready in each hand. The carpet along with the dimwittedness of the zombies gave him a huge advantage. When he was about twenty feet away he stopped. “Hey! What did I tell you assholes about starting office pools without me?” Instantly every zombie within sight turned towards him. They began walking towards him slowly at first. Eric held both guns up in a form of salute, “Bring it on you dead fucks.”
A guttural scream filled the walkway as the zombies screeched and snarled as one. Eric didn’t give them a chance to burst forward at high speed as they tended to. Both guns were firing and his attackers were dropping like dominoes. One after the other fell with holes in their faces and chests. Others tripped over them. Within a couple of minutes Eric felt like he would just be able to stand in the corridor and pick them all off like fish in a barrel. Unfortunately there was something he did not plan for.
There was one zombie that looked at him differently and seemed to squint. It was only for a brief moment, but for that moment it appeared that the brainless former human was actually thinking. Whatever it was didn’t matter for long because in the next second the same zombie launched towards with terrifying speed. He was on top of Eric before he could even think what to do. The resulting collision knocked him off balance and knocked both handguns from his grasp. In the confusion three more piled onto Eric’s back and rode him into the ground.
Unable to get his hands around his shotgun, Eric was in trouble. They scratched at him but he ignored the pain, hoping they wouldn’t bite. Giving in to the pain is what
got people killed. He knew he was capable of more than just laying here and taking a beating. It was what made him different.
Quickly he brought his head backwards, crashing into soft facials bones of the one on his back. The weight of that one fell away and he elbowed like crazy with now freed his right arm. After three solid elbows, the weight grew light enough that he figured he could turn over. His left hand felt for and found the comforting shotgun, still remarkably where it was supposed to be on his back. He jerked it downward into his hand as he rolled with his right side down so that he could swing the shotgun. It was a wild swing but it connected beautifully. The attacker it hit stumbled backwards, but it was enough that Eric was able to bring his legs up and donkey kick upwards from the floor. That zombie fell away and he was finally free to explosively kip up onto his feet.
No relief came when he got to his feet, the four remaining were back up and coming towards him with increased ferocity. This time he was ready. They came with one on each side and one right behind the other in the center. He pumped the shotgun and blew the head off of the one center front. He fell and tripped the one directly behind him. Eric then threw a devastating side kick to the one on his right, at the same time slinging the shotgun around and cracking the chin of the one on his left. The only zombie left moving was the one that had tripped but he wasn’t standing. Don’t waste bullets you didn’t have too he reminded himself. Eric grabbed the butt of the shotgun and swung it like a baseball bat. The gun slammed the zombie across the face and took half of the deadened skin off with it. He collapsed onto the floor in a heap. It was only then that he realized he was smirking to the point that he was almost smiling and enjoying himself.
