Aftermath (Book 2): Chicago Calling

by Duncan McArdle

  John could immediately feel the air of excitement spread over the crowd, as well as a sense of relief that they were finally here to celebrate, not grieve. Everyone there knew that this single act might one day mean they could be up here eating a decent meal, rather than the generic slop that John could see some residents were currently consuming. Accordingly, each and every face seemed at least somewhat happy, something John didn’t think he’d ever seen here before, and it was that fact alone that brought a smile to his face too.

  “Little further over”, Andrew called out from the far end of the rooftop, towards which John was making his way.

  With that, a series of groans could be heard as a team of residents pushed hard against the wooden structure, pushing it closer to the edge of the building.

  “Little more”, Andrew said again, leaning in to get a better view of how close they were, “Perfect!”, he called out eventually, raising his hands to reinforce the point.

  The group stepped back, and each began catching their breath, just as John arrived to admire the ongoing progress.

  The bridge was of crude design. The general idea was to build up a large and well-supported tower on top of the car-park, in order to accommodate the single-storey deficit between the two buildings, and then to bridge the gap that separated them. Of course, with minimal supplies to work with and no real experts among the camp’s members, little could be said for the safety or integrity of the structure. Despite that however, it would at least be safer than having residents running in and out of the camp all day, and at night too if for any reason necessary.

  This of course was only the first step, with the actual bridging component to be added later. But even now, as what could only be described as a wooden tower was nailed and screwed together as firmly as could be done, and anchored into the tough concrete below, John couldn’t help but feel an immense amount of pride over what they had managed to do.

  “Beautiful isn’t it?”, asked Andrew, who had now noticed John’s arrival.

  “I think beautiful might be overstepping it”, John said, paying particular attention to the sporadically varnished sections of exposed wood, done using up every last ounce of the liquid they could get their hands on, “But it’s pretty damn good”, he added, smiling.

  “We put the other side in place a little earlier”, Andrew said, referring to the similar tower on top of the apartment building, itself significantly smaller due to only having to make it over the metal bars around the building’s roof. “We’ll put some supports in from the window-ledges below, and then put the top on”, Andrew continued, pointing to the ledges underneath the gap, themselves marking one of the few points that any kind of supporting pieces could be propped onto. “Should be done in a couple of days”, he finished.

  “And then what, you’ll test it first?”, John asked.

  Andrew shivered a little, followed quickly by his nervous eyes darting between the scantily supported bridge and John, who he hoped was joking.

  John simply laughed, and walked over to his wife who was stood nearby, smiling excitedly despite everything. The two of them then watched together as the final part of the car-park’s connecting piece was secured into place.

  Chapter 28: Evolve

  The next morning, before the sun had fully risen and whilst most residents remained asleep, two lone figures departed from the car-park on foot, heavily armed with weapons but carrying little else, emerging cautiously from the innards of the concrete mass. As they left, each man spoke briefly with Lester – who had just come on duty – to confirm their plans, and then headed out.

  On the left of the pair walked John. He’d been on watch all night, but had managed more than a few hours of sleep in the daytime before, and so by his usual standards, was reasonably well rested. He was sporting a rough but well-holding pair of walking boots, a similar standard of cargo pants, and his usual hooded sweater, which had long since begun to fray around the edges. On his back was his famed M14, with which he made most of his more remarkable shots, and to his side was his trusty Ruger SR22, as well as his ever-useful hunting knife.

  To John’s right was Harvey, John’s accompanying guard on most of the more action-packed outings of late. Harvey looked a little more worn than usual, and still bore the bruises of past scuffles and injuries, as well as a number of scantily fastened bandages up his arms and legs. Despite this however, Harvey walked tall and with great confidence, and was if anything the more enthusiastic of the two. Like John, Harvey too was well armed, with an M16 slung over his shoulder and his own pistol and knife combination attached to his side.

  The two men moved along the wall of the car-park, sticking close enough to the shadows to obscure their image, but far enough away from it to stay out of any danger that might be lurking in the darkness. The street was empty, desolate even, and every noise echoed long and far into the distance, but so far there had been no hint of any unfortunate presence. Likewise, Lester had reported no sightings of anything for at least a few hours, allowing the men to walk with confidence. Before long, the car-park and the bridge next to it had fallen away to the side, and the two men arrived at a stretch of shrubbery along the main road, a little under half a mile from camp.

  “Jesus”, Harvey remarked as they approached a particularly dense stretch of nature, having over time grabbed back some of the land mankind had taken away, “They really bedded it in there”.

  “Looks like it”, John replied softly, knowing their voices were still carrying some distance despite the muffling effects of the plants and bushes on their side.

  “You sure it’ll come back out?”, Harvey asked, scratching his head now as he took the final few steps towards their destination.

  “Well if not, we’ll call triple-A”, John said, smiling slightly as he too now took his final few steps, and then stopped to survey the situation.

  In front of both men was a particularly dense section of shrubbery and trees, long marram grass and evergreen leaves stretching out onto parts of the road, almost obscuring the Nissan that was buried deep inside.

  “Doesn’t look damaged”, John pointed out, surveying the vehicle’s exterior.

  “Maybe they thought they could keep using it after”, Harvey suggested.

  “Yeah”, John agreed, his mind involuntarily flicking briefly to the sight of the life draining out of each of the attacking group’s members, “Maybe”.

  The truck had been driven hastily off of the road, this spot having seemingly been deemed the closest the group could get to the car-park without being spotted. It had been driven so quickly into the depths of the uneven bushes that two of its wheels were clean off the ground, and numerous branches had embedded themselves through various nooks and crannies in the Nissan’s undercarriage. So well had the vehicle been buried in fact, that neither John nor Harvey had spotted it when they had driven up the ramp and onto the overpass just across the road. Instead, it had taken a fateful reflection of light into one of John’s eyes when he had turned to come back down the ramp that had caused him to spot the truck.

  Briefly John looked underneath the vehicle, making absolutely sure that nothing was going to jump out and grab at him in the coming minutes, and then began pushing into the shrubbery, eventually managing to force himself through a small gap into the truck’s cabin. Harvey meanwhile took a step back, keeping an eye out in every direction just in case the undead decided to rear their ugly heads.

  Without much trouble at all, the pickup’s engine soon sprang into life, and immediately John set about trying to pull it free of nature’s grasp. From inside the cabin, there was little to view. Most of the windscreen was covered in foliage, and both side views looked only into more depths of green, so John simply pulsed the accelerator – rocking the truck on its two grounded wheels – until the sounds of twigs snapping and rubber tires crunching what fell below started to signal some progress being made.

  Soon enough, a third wheel caught traction, and a gap of around a foot opened up in fr
ont of the truck. Noting this, John happily increased the acceleration, sensing he was about to free the vehicle and knowing that meant they’d soon be leaving. But before he could make much more progress, a familiar sound narrowly caught his ear, and an even more familiar sight appeared in front.

  In the small gap between the truck and the trees in front emerged the drooling, snivelling face of a particularly tall and skinny man, who by John’s reckoning had been dead for some time. In fact, judging by the presence of a sharp twig that had grown clean through the man’s left cheek, John imagined he’d probably been here since the start, trapped under a log or dense area of shrubbery, finally now freed by the truck’s disruptive movement.

  John quickly thought over what the best course of action was. Rarely did he have this many choices on how to take care of a member of the undead community. He could lurch the truck forwards and pin the man against the trees, he could get out and take care of him by hand, he could shoot him right now from the driver’s seat, or he could reverse out and then make a decision from there. Keen both to conserve ammo and get the truck out of its entangled prison as quickly as possible, John opted for the latter option, and pressed hard on the accelerator, reversing the truck with some speed and finally freeing it from nature’s embrace.

  “Whoa!”, came Harvey’s surprised tone as the truck sailed past him, barely a few inches to his side.

  John held up a hand in apology, having not realised how easily the vehicle would break free. But before Harvey could question the decision, he caught sight of the groaning individual now making its way towards the road on which he stood, and realised what had happened.

  “Well now, you look like a real nasty one”, Harvey remarked as he approached the figure, noting its exposed ribs and slivers of bloodied muscle hanging from almost every limb.

  Producing his knife, Harvey approached the man and quickly pressed the blade through the biter’s forehead, penetrating deep into the brain and cutting off just about every channel of communication to the rest of the body that was left. To Harvey’s surprise however, the man did not fall, and instead continued to reach out towards its desired meal in front, though now with only its left arm.

  “What in the hell”, Harvey said in a slightly worried tone, as he withdrew the blade and stuck it in once more, making an incision just an inch or so to the right of the previous one.

  Despite the second would-be-devastating injury however, the man continued to advance, its sharp fingertip claws coming close to Harvey’s jugular on a particularly lucky swing.

  “What are you doing?”, John asked, leaning out of the truck’s driver-side window.

  “Sonofabitch isn’t going down!”, Harvey said, in a more worrisome tone now.

  Before John could respond, Harvey stabbed again, this time from side on, going through the man’s left temple and deep into the skull. Seeing no change from the individual though, Harvey twisted his grip hard, the blade then not only slicing through an untold amount of fundamental brain tissue, but also moving things around, scrambling whatever few remaining workings parts were left in the man’s head. Finally, on this third attempt, the figure closed its eyes, and dropped limply to the ground, defeated.

  Harvey stood there for a moment, catching the breath he’d lost not due to physical exertion or fast movement, but to a surprising sense of fear and worry.

  “You alright?”, John asked from back in the truck, having readied himself to come over and help if needed.

  Harvey nodded without turning round to face his companion, his eyes instead drawn to the body that now lay on the ground in front.

  Not since the infection had first begun had any particularly new strains of the disease been reported. Occasionally one might see an undead individual exerting some strange behaviour, and even more rarely one might be seen surviving a usually catastrophic injury, but rarely, if ever, had one survived not two, but three. Harvey continued to stare down at the body for a while, asking a series of questions he knew nobody could answer. But soon enough his attention was drawn back into the bushes, as the sound of ruffling reached his ears.

  Despite winter fast approaching, the weather on that particular day was favourable. It hadn’t yet rained, and although the volume of clouds above pretty much guaranteed a lack of sun for the day, there was no wind either. For that reason, Harvey knew the only reason such noises would be coming from the bushes would be if another biter was in there, so he readied his blade, and moved forwards.

  Soon enough, two figures began to slowly amble out of the green masses, apparently stirred by the commotion their fellow biter’s slow and difficult death had caused. Each of the two had very different traits, with one being a more petite looking woman, and one a much larger man. Little was known about why some of the undead wilted away into slim, bone and skin masses whilst others retained massive amounts of body fat, but what was now stood right in front of Harvey was certainly evidence that the two cases still occurred.

  Picking his path carefully, Harvey advanced towards the smaller woman, knowing it was safer to take them on one at a time, and also conscious he might find himself going head to head with another particularly difficult to kill individual. With that in mind, he squared up head on with the female, and repeated his most recent manoeuvre of going in from side on, completing the motion with a twist.

  Soon enough a sickening, bone cracking, tissue squelching noise sounded out, but yet again the being did not drop. Despite the twist of the blade, it continued to stare at Harvey, almost as if it were looking right into his eyes, viewing him as something other than a meal. Harvey however knew this was of course not the case, and so withdrew the knife and pierced it back in once more, a manoeuvre that was this time followed by the sight of the body dropping hard to the ground, segments of what Harvey was fairly certain were brain mass still attached to the blade.

  John meanwhile remained near the truck, though he had now turned off the engine and stepped out, ready to intervene if needed. He too however was interested to see how each of the similarly conditioned beings reacted to Harvey’s attacks, and so was watching intently, telling himself that it was some kind of research opportunity. If there really was some science behind why some were proving harder to kill than others, they desperately needed to know.

  Harvey approached the larger man and decided to go for the dead-centre approach this time, plunging the blade through the middle of the forehead, piercing the rotten flesh and bone with complete ease. The knife sailed through so easily in fact that Harvey nearly lost it inside, with even the handle partially submerging itself in the forehead of the large man in front. Yet, despite the overwhelming mass suddenly embedded in his skull, the biter remained upright, though seemingly no longer capable of any movement.

  For a moment, all three people present were stood completely still, almost lifeless. Harvey was looking forwards at the non-moving figure, while John looked at both men, wondering what on earth was going on. After some time, Harvey gave a gentle shove to the body in front, and watched as it teetered backwards, before slamming hard onto the ground, like a plank of wood being dropped to the floor.

  “Something really fucking weird is going on”, Harvey said, turning away from the three bodies that were now laid out around him.

  “You got that right”, John said, himself staring at the corpses. “I’m seeing it more and more these days”.

  “You think they’re evolving, getting stronger or something?”, Harvey asked, now walking back over to the truck.

  “Not likely”, John said, “Seems like every time it happens it’s with one that’s been stuck somewhere for a while”, he said as he climbed back into the driver’s seat, “One of the really rotten ones”, he explained.

  “You think that makes them stronger?”, Harvey asked as he too climbed into the truck.

  “Not sure”, John replied, “But it’s why I think we oughta’ start going straight for the brain stem, hasn’t failed me yet”, he said.

  “Neither
has a gun”, Harvey pointed out, as John started the truck up once more and reversed it back onto the road – applying the finishing touch to a body that had fallen beneath one of its wheels – and then turned north, ready to head out on their day’s mission.

  Chapter 29: Assess

  From what John could tell, the pickup hadn’t been subject to much activity during its brief period in enemy hands. The mileage on the counter was about what John could remember, as was the fuel, and the only real evidence there was of the incident was a few half smoked cigarette buds thrown about the cabin, which John was making a point of finding and throwing out of the window. All in all it seemed they’d gotten off pretty lucky, having traded an old pickup for an electric supercar, only to get the pickup back a few days later.

  During the course of the assault on their camp, John’s group had managed to subdue the attackers with no casualties or injuries. In fact, they’d even managed to recover more ammunition from the bodies of the assailants than they’d spent bringing them down, and so the reality was that they’d actually profited from the situation. Of course, John would have preferred not to have helped the undead in their task of reducing human numbers, but he knew full well that in that particular situation, it was fight or flight, and they had been all but forced to fight.

  Soon after setting off from its hiding spot, the Nissan had made the short journey to the marina located a little further along the road. The views along the lakeside street that also connected them back to the car-park were beautiful, but the sight of empty jetties coming into view on the right was enough to ruin the ambience fairly quickly. Once again that same empty feeling hit John, and once again his eyes were glued to the sight of all those empty wooden structures, their only purpose now to float and drift for all of eternity, slowly rotting away into the water.