"How did you know about us?" Frank pushed past the throes of pain, trying to make sense of what was happening to him.
"You have been careless. Maybe those speechless creatures had trouble tracking you, but not us." Jarvik's voice was hoarse. "You don't need to be afraid of us, we share a common enemy."
"Don't need to be afraid of you?" Frank couldn't comprehend the words falling out of his mouth. "You ever take a look in the mirror. You look like a savage warrior." Frank couldn't deny the fear that the man’s persona had aroused.
"You would have wasted valuable resources trying to save that man, he wouldn't have survived. You must be able to make difficult decisions if you want to continue to lead those people." Jarvik seemed cold and merciless. "We were actually on our way to see you, we've been tracking your movements for days now."
"Tracking our movements? What for?" Frank was afraid to hear the answer from this barbarian.
"You have resources we need, we can offer you protection and resources that you desperately need." Jarvik stopped the horse. "We can survive against this undead enemy only if we band together. We can make this a safe place to live only if we join forces." Jarvik untied the ropes from Frank's hands and yanked him to a seated position. "Don't make this harder then it needs to be. We are just trying to survive, same as you." Frank heeded Jarvik's warning; he wasn't ready to die just yet.
The Viking’s thick beard hid any emotion that his face may have shown, his eyes only a stone cold glare, methodically scanning the road for any dead roamers. He showed no fear, ready to fight anything that stood in his way.
"Dana." Eric raced to the shed, covered in a mixture of blood, mud, and sloppy snow as Private Byrnes hauled his wife to safety.
"Eric." Dana sobbed uncontrollably when Eric embraced her. "Patch is still under there."
"Here, boy." Patch wouldn't respond to Eric's call. "Patch."
Eric looked back at his father, who was straining to catch his breath and had already dropped to his knees, unable to stand. Jason and Private Byrnes raised their guns, firing at corpses shuffling out from the tree line. "Stay right here." Eric squeezed Dana's shoulder, the motion sending a dull ache radiating from his wound. Even raising the gun to take aim caused tremendous suffering in Eric's arm, but he joined Jason and scoured the forest for the undead. The snow falling blurred Eric's vision, but it appeared as though Jason and the young private had already dispatched the last threat. The gunfire from army ceased, and the dreadful moaning vanished. An eerie calm settled over the forest, broken only by Jack’s heavy, deep breaths as he struggled to catch his breath.
"Do you see anything?" Jason asked, scanning the tree line with his gun.
Eric visibly searched the forest, but was unable to see any looming threats. "No, and I don't hear the zombies moaning anymore." Eric felt stiff, his body still tense from the ordeal.
Private Byrnes walked away from them, heading back towards his commanding officer without saying a word. Eric wanted to thank the young man, but he figured the private was a thrill seeker and wasn't looking for thanks.
Jason wandered closer towards the giant timbers at the edge of the property, holding up his arm to signal Eric to stay quiet. Jason performed a detail scan of the area before turning to face Eric. There was a look of dread and despair on Jason's face as he waved his hands for Eric to duck. "Get down!"
Eric dropped to the ground, his knees banging hard off the frozen earth. Twisting his head, Eric looked on in terror as a shuffling corpse loomed over his father.
BANG
The bullet missed its mark, tearing through the creature’s left arm. This momentarily stunned the monster long enough for Eric to draw his weapon. The wound on Eric's arm made this a formidable task, a challenge to line up a kill shot.
BANG, BANG
The bullets sank into the cold cadaver’s back, making large, wet sounds as they sunk into the dead flesh. The zombie shuddered momentarily, but never lost its focus on Jack. Its outstretched arms grabbing a hold of Jack's body, its snapping jaws honing in on Jack's back.
THUNK
Dana slammed a ball-peen hammer into the back of the vile beast’s skull, causing the creature to seize uncontrollably before crashing into Jack, the dead body landing on top of him. Dana stood there with the hammer in her hands, blood dripping from the metal head into the snow at her feet.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN:
COLD HARD STEELE
Twenty Days Ago
His enemy lay beneath him, battered and broken. David's blood thirst was veracious. Jason's flesh had yielded to David's crushing blows, turning soft and pulpy with every devastating strike. David could feel the bone breaking beneath the skin with each strike he landed. After putting up a valiant effort, Jason had succumbed to David's assault with Jason's arms falling helplessly to his side. With his opponent utterly defenceless, David picked up the baton and raised it above his head with both hands, getting ready to deliver the deathblow.
BANG
A sharp pain radiated from David's left ear as the bullet tore through the flesh. A warm trickle of blood started running down his neck. Instinctively, David hurled the baton at Jason's saviour with tremendous force. As the police officer dove out of the baton's path, David used this distraction to run down the hallway and escape.
With the door locking behind him, David laboured up the stairs, winded from his fight with Jason. Never before had anyone managed to cause David pain, and if not for Jason's mistake of letting his foot get snagged in David's clutches, David may have lost a fight for the first time in his life. David couldn't have this weight on his conscious. He needed to settle this dispute once and for all; David's pride demanded vengeance. If that cop hadn't meddled in their affairs, David would have won, but now Jason Cook had momentarily avoided his untimely demise.
As David reached the main floor, he pushed his way into the lobby. There was another police officer dragging his body across the tile floor. A trail of blood stained the floor behind him; the cop was already too close to death to notice the smirk on David's face as he stood there, watching the victim bleed out. David heard the rustling in the stairwell behind the security door at the end of the hallway. Jason and his saviour were heading towards the exit. Before they burst through the door, David made his way out through the lobby and into the freezing outdoors. The frigid air against his bare chest sent goose-bumps over David's entire body as he lumbered towards his vehicle in the parking lot.
A large black truck was one of the last vehicles in the parking lot at the Pharmakon Medical Research Facility – the majority had already made their way towards the ferry to get off the island. David opened the cab door and jumped into the driver's seat moments before Jason emerged through the lobby doors. David cursed himself for not retrieving his duffle bag from the pan of the truck. His weapon was too far out of reach to make a move for it now. As powerful as David had become, he wasn't Superman. A bullet would spell his demise.
David watched angrily as the three men boarded a waiting helicopter, then vanished without a trace high into the sky. As the light from the helicopter faded into the dark night sky, David drove towards the ferry, the only route off this cursed island. The truck roared down the deserted road toward the docks, kicking up loose rocks and crushing dead leaves under the tires as he sped down the road.
THUD
David slammed his fist against the steering wheel, watching in disgust as the ferry left port without him. This would be a death sentence; the island had just turned into a prison camp.
Eighteen Days Ago
David had barricaded himself in Mr. Purchase's office from the countless number of zombies that now roamed the island. His only weapons were a metal entrenching shovel he had left in his truck, and his handgun. David had never realized how many people had been experimented on; Gordon must have kept a large portion of his project hidden from David's view. There must have been hundreds of dead corpses shuffling around the island now, and David only had two full boxes of ammo,
not nearly enough to put them all down.
Nothing in Gordon's office was of any use to David. The computers no longer worked, and a stack of useless papers littered the desk. The only saving grace was a fridge that was still running thanks to the generator in the basement. David was worried about how much gas was left in the tank though; there was no way for David to refuel the machine. It was only a matter of days before the motor would run out of fuel and die.
David needed to find a way off this island and make his way to St. John's. All of the resources he needed would be waiting for him underneath Signal Hill. A full arsenal of weapons, medical supplies, ammunition, an armoured vehicle, food, and even night vision goggles. Instead he was stuck on this island where endless tirade of waves crashed against the shore, tormenting David, and keeping him trapped with all of his victims.
David watched as two men he had kidnapped while they were out hunting shuffled around the rocky terrain of the island just outside of the window below him. The men had been the first live test subjects they had experimented on; however, the serum had not worked and it had turned them into the mindless creatures they were now. A woman they had brought back to life with the virus staggered around in the hallway outside the office, relentlessly searching for a way inside to taste his flesh. Moans from the dead creatures echoed constantly throughout the entire building, pushing David off the edge of sanity. David had barely slept in the last two days, making it harder to think of an escape plan. David felt like he was buried alive in his own grave, forced there by the demons of his past.
Fourteen Days Ago
"You have to get rid of them," the voice inside David's head urged him.
"There are too many of them."
The hungry moans from the corridor had grown substantially over the past three days. The monsters seemed to be drawn towards the scent of David's flesh.
"If you don't act now, you will die in this room. Is that what you really want?" The girl's voice inside his head had grown unusually harsh.
"I don't think I can make it?" David was on the verge of tears.
"So what, you're just going to give up? You are a ferocious beast David. You always were." The accusation in the woman's voice tormented David.
"No, the serum made me this way." David begged for forgiveness.
"Really, David? You weren't a monster before all of this?"
"I made a mistake!" David's screams were driving the ghouls outside into a frenzy.
"You made a mistake when you hit me. But the monster inside of you emerged; it wouldn't let you stop." David began to cry as his wife's voice continued to remind him that he truly was a monster. "Now I'm outside that barricade you built. Let me inside, so I can finish what you started."
"You're not her. Go away!" David yelled at his wife's corpse on the other side of the metal door. "I'm sorry!"
David couldn't remember killing his wife that night, but Mr. Purchase had sworn that it was the truth. Gordon agreed they would bring her back to life if he volunteered to be a test subject for the super soldier serum. Waves of guilt that would never relinquish had forced David into this horrid situation. Now David had truly become a monster, and his wife would suffer for eternity as one of those vile creatures.
Thirteen Days Ago
David had awoken from his tormented nightmare. Stress and guilt were clouding his mind, making it difficult to continue. David thought about opening the door and letting his wife take his life, especially since he didn't see any other options available to him. His food supplies were nearly exhausted and David was dangerously sleep deprived; his surrender seemed like a viable alternative to his eternal suffering. David turned to look out the window one last time at the ocean. The waves continued to relentlessly erode the rocks like time had corroded his mind away. A seagull drifted lazily in the breeze, waiting for an opportunity to feed upon a school of fish below.
The super soldier serum not only elevated David’s strength, it had magnified his anger to immeasurable levels. The monster inside of him had been corrupted and unleashed in a sudden fit of rage. David tore the computer screen off Gordon's desk and sent it smashing through the giant glass window. Shards of glass went everywhere as the screen exploded through the window. A cold wind whipped through the room carrying the scent of salty sea air and decaying flesh. The papers on Gordon's desk whirled around the office, the commotion creating a feeding frenzy outside, drawing a dozen zombies below the office window.
Hungry moans surrounded David, pushing him over the edge of insanity, hurtling towards despair.
"What are you going to do, David? Give up." His wife's voice was calling him into the hallway.
David started to move towards the door when a sheet of paper danced in front of his face, landing on his chest. David was about to crumple the paper into a ball when he looked down and saw the names on it. The names of the Fewer Children were scribbled in David's handwriting. Their boat was still on the island, and it might be David's only chance of escaping this wretched place.
Twelve Days Ago
David awoke, much more rejuvenated than he had in over a week. Somehow, the realization that he had developed an escape plan allowed him to block out the dreadful moans of the undead. David felt so good, he even walked over to the door to say goodbye to his wife. He was finally going to leave her behind.
"You can't leave me here like this!" his wife screeched.
"It’s like you said: I'm a monster," David said to the corpse on the other side of the door. "And it’s like I said, this serum created the monster you see here standing before you. Your husband died all those years ago with you." Only moans answered, but David could still hear his wife's voice. David turned away from the corpse, leaving it behind to rot away to nothing.
David pulled his gun out of the back of his pants and took careful aim; he didn't want to waste a single bullet. He was going to need to save as much ammunition as possible if he was going to reach St. John's alive. David remembered Gordon's studies about the behaviour patterns of the zombies. Gordon had determined that their ghastly moans weren't just an animalistic reaction to the scent of flesh, but a form of communication between them. Gordon believed the sounds were made to attract other zombies towards the source of a food source, and David was looking at the proof.
Milky white eyes glared back at him and snarling jaws salivated at the prospect of their first real meal in weeks, awaiting David ten feet below. Yesterday the number started off as a dozen of the hungry monsters answered the dinner bell, but it had quickly grown to over thirty. David watched as the shuffling corpses reached out their arms, their pale, greenish-grey fingers grasping for him. David raised the iron sights of his gun, and sent a bullet right between the eyes of the zombie directly below him.
BOOM
David Steele cackled as he raised the gun once more, carefully taking aim to destroy the brain of each of the creatures below. The loud, thunderous boom of his handgun sent the crowd behind the door into a frenzied state. David pondered if the moans of the zombies below had changed, warning their fellow undead of the danger residing in that office, but put that thought aside to make room for the concentration he needed to escape.
Ten Days Ago
David had managed to reach the Fewer's boat with relative ease, placing a bullet square between the eyes of every awaiting zombie outside Gordon's office. Only a few corpses could be seen the rest of the way towards the old fishing dory, shambling towards David in a laughable attempt to reach him. David had more trouble with manoeuvring the old boat towards the shore of Burgeo than he did dispatching those freaks.
Now David was stranded in the small town, unable to find a working vehicle. David easily took down the few stragglers left behind; most of the zombies hadn't formed into groups larger than three corpses. The barren streets were littered with dead leaves and broken glass. A few vehicles were left behind, but David wasn't able to find one with any gas left. However, a gas station loomed ahead, its windows and doors boarded up.
> David decided to see if he would be able to find any gas left at the pumps. Trash littered the front of the building while a stale stench of human waste lingered in the air. Survivors had turned the old building into their safe house. It was a clever move -- with only one entrance to the building, it would be easy to defend against the walking corpses. David wasn't sure of how many people were inside or how well armed they were, but he needed to find transportation. He felt he had no other choice.
David approached the front door, stepping into sticky pool of blood as he did so, and knocked.
"Hello?" a scared voice from inside cried out.
Nine Days Ago
"How did you sleep?" an older woman asked as David lifted his head from the pillow.
"Better than I normally do." David sat upright in the cot, a dirty, white blanket barely able to cover his massive frame. All of the shelves in the store still had food on them, but the floors were grungy with dirt and filth.
"So how long have you been wandering around town?" she asked suspiciously. "I don't recognize you?" The wrinkles around her eyes became more defined as she squinted at him.
"My car broke down just outside of town. I've been surviving in different places in town ever since." David made up the lie. "Where did your husband go?"
Zombies on the Rock (Book 2): The Viking Trail Page 11
