Bone Hunter: A Novelette in the Dark of Dawn Series

by Woolf, Sebastien

  Whilst the swarm was out of eyesight he knew they were there, somewhere up ahead on the road meandering and shuffling along. The man had been reluctant to open fire on them until he had found the right location to launch such an assault and stay protected at the same time. There were too many of them to simply charge in and take them all out in one round, this was going to take much more of a concerted effort and a lot of concentration.

  Snarl!

  “Gotcha boy, I see them too. Now we’re almost set, just need to get in front of them now and take them down as they come to us. C’mon fella, we’ll shoot down here.”

  Through an empty department store they ran, passing by jewelry and perfume displays, running though menswear eventually spilling out into the rear carpark through the outdoor furniture department. Cutting left they sprinted hard towards the road at the end of a long dark alley, stopped, propped, turned then bolted towards a restaurant on the other side of the street. Tearing up the stairs the man crouched down and took up position on the alfresco dining balcony.

  “Perfect,” he said, as together they panted and caught their breath.

  Pulling the light backpack from his shoulders he reached inside, withdrew several full magazines and placed them in a neat row against the low Perspex wall. Raising a pair of binoculars to his eyes to survey the road he studied the formation of the swarm and quickly formulated a plan of attack.

  “Here they come,” he whispered, turning to wink at his companion.

  Readying his sniper rifle he went through his regular routines ensuring he followed his ‘code’. Maintaining tremendous concentration he peered though the scope towards the incoming throng of creatures and took aim, pictured the first shot in his mind then took it.

  Bodies began to fall everywhere as the man with the steady aim picked them off one by one from his secluded vantage point on the restaurant balcony. Shell casings clattered to the ground all around him creating a brass timpani that beat in time with the falling corpses.

  Numbers rarely mattered to him, this was not why he did what he did on the deserted streets each and every day. His focus was simply eradicating the vermin – an exterminator would never stop to count the cockroaches, nor should he.

  He was the Reaper!

  Suddenly, unexpectedly the swarm broke into two and separated with the breakaway mob veering away and disappearing down an alleyway. The larger group continued forward shuffling aimlessly through the carnage oblivious to the fate that awaited them. Slightly confused and concerned he might lose control of the situation the man accelerated the cull by firing at a much more rapid rate.

  Blood trickled from bullet wounds in foreheads as more and more of the undead met their doom to a barrage of 175-grain hollow point rounds. It was as always a one-sided affair with the man easily gaining the upper hand. He decimated the gathering on the road before him in no time at all he had reduced this part of the swarm to nothing more than a handful of stragglers.

  “Time to move buddy,” he said, quickly stuffing magazines and supplies back into his pack.

  Making their way down the stairs onto the road the man slid his rifle into a custom made pouch on his backpack and unclipped two ice axes from his belt. Their titanium shafts and steel heads made them ideal melee weapons when facing individual stragglers or small groups, allowing him to conserve ammunition.

  In two bounds he reached the first creature, rising up high in a leaping attack slamming his weapons down hard burying one of the picks deep into its skull. Blood burst from the open wound erupting like a volcano high into the air. The next creature to lunge at him met with a similar fate. Life was extinguished immediately as the second lightweight weapon that he wielded with so much precision pierced through bone above the right eye.

  In a flash it was over. Nothing moved save for a weeds on the sidewalk seemingly applauding as they bobbed and weaved in the wind. Turning his head to the alleyway the man cut an ominous figure on the road as he stared intently in the direction the breakaway mob had headed.

  “Sick ‘em!”

  With a sharp bark the dog bolted into the dark, its footsteps clattering as it bounded along the cobblestones. The man followed walking at a steady pace ringing the blood from the end of his ice axes as he went.

  From somewhere nearby a scream rang out. It was human.

  Startled, the man froze, immediately pushing his back flat to the back wall inside the alleyway. A survivor! he thought to himself. As he pulled the goggles up to the top of his tactical helmet in order to see better in the shadows he gave a shiver, it was cool in the dark. His companion stood up ahead in the light, snarling.

  Another scream, then silence.

  Moaning followed.

  A quick headcount revealed eight creatures on their knees devouring a fresh kill. The man dispensed with the undead quickly and efficiently in a surprise attack from behind, it was all over in the blink of an eye.

  He ascertained that the poor soul sating their hunger was a young lad probably in his early twenties, lean build and tall with a mop of scruffy blonde hair on his head. Wearing jeans and a hoody, he looked every bit out of place in this part of town, any part of town for that matter. A cast on his right leg indicated the reason why he had more than likely succumbed to the savage beasts that had attacked him that day.

  Rifling though the dead man’s belongings the man found nothing of real importance or usefulness. Loose change, a pocketknife, keys attached to a Marijuana leaf chain and a wallet. Pulling out the driver’s license he read the man’s name and date of birth quietly to himself as he shook his head slowly.

  “Aidan… what the hell were you doing here… dude?” Gave a heavy sigh. “Honestly, the wastelands were never a place for someone you man.”

  Ten inches of serrated steel through Aidan’s temple ensured that this was to be his only death. Bone crunched as he sliced through the cervical vertebrae just below his skull. ‘Code’.

  Dropping to a knee the man crossed himself and said a silent prayer, holding his pose as he recalled all those he had seen fall since the turn. He prayed for each of them giving special homage to his wife and child, whose memory flashed before him at that moment as vivid as could possibly be. Almost convinced that they were within arms reach in front of him his hands twitched as his heart begged for him to embrace them.

  “Let’s go boy!” he said, snapping out of his daze. Getting to his feet he wiped the vision from his mind refocusing on what lay ahead. “We have a lot of work to do!”

  4

  Fury’s Page

  Winter’s deathly grasp tightened. The bitterly cold storm front brought with it torrential rain and icy wind, thrashing the wastelands for days on end. Blocked drains overflowed causing flooding to most areas of the downtown business district as surface water began to flow like rivers, knee deep through some streets.

  There was little one could do but wait it out, for venturing into such a tempest would most certainly be putting one’s life in immediate danger. This would mean exposing oneself to much more than just the elements for detecting movement and sound on the streets would be nigh on impossible.

  In the drab shelter inside an office building on Eighth and Faraday the man sat lost in thought. Whilst he was now used to solitude a big part of him still yearned for company. Every now and again he would be reminded of how much he missed being a part of something, how much he missed his loved ones and how much he missed being around people. It had been some time now since his greatest loss yet he carried that heavy burden on his broad shoulders every day.

  Despite there being no hope to help save him, Aidan was not the first survivor he had come across that had been taken by the undead, there had been many others like him since the turn. Every now and again he would catch a glimpse of people scavenging foraging and fighting for their own survival in the rubble. Watching from afar he would observe, keeping his distance reluctant to engage in any way. He had changed, as people do in times of crisis turning inward losing his ability
and desire to interact with humans. Not once had he waved or even given a sign, preferring to simply sit in the shadows and wait until they moved on.

  His spirit was tormented and there was an internal conflict within him like he had never experienced before, an ongoing battle between good and evil. He was a good person, he knew he was. A once devoted father, loving husband, caring friend and dedicated employee, but all that was in a former life, at a better time. His greatest conundrum right now was understanding who he was and what had he become.

  Killing creatures had become a necessity of daily life and he had found it much easier than he had anticipated to justify what he did. Too easy in fact. A pacifist all his life the man had never before handled any form of weapon until fate had forced that upon him. Adapting fast he faced up to the fact that his world had deteriorated into a daily kill or be killed situation, forcing him to choose to kill in order to live. He learned quickly how to wield the few weapons he managed to scavenge at first, honing his skills on a daily basis to become a killing machine. This was who he had become and it worried him somewhat.

  Surviving the turn had come at a heavy price. There was a darkness within him, a hardness that had developed over time, a certain roughness that had enabled him to stay alive when others around him perished. The pain of loss weighed heavily on him coursing through veins like a cancer, spreading to every part of his body. Everyday he lived with the constant yearning for his family knowing that he would never see them again. Not in this life anyway.

  Outside the storm continued unabated, rain drumming hard on the windows, wind whistling through the cracks and openings of the building. A small fire crackled inside a drum in the centre of the room providing enough heat to warm the surroundings. It was freezing. Flames danced higher and light flickered all around making for an eerie and gloomy setting.

  The man looked at his companion and smiled as he tugged at the two heavy blankets over the top of him. Curled up close to the fire the dog looked every bit content to be inside out of the wind and the rain, just as he was.

  A week passed and the precipitation had been constant, seemingly never ending. Heavy thunderstorms rolled in with the deafening sound of celestial kettle drums announcing their arrival with a crescendo. Eventually the storm broke, clouds rolled on to soak other parts of the city departing with a soft diminuendo that trailed off into the distance.

  Making a welcome appearance the sun glinted off puddles on the road instantly restoring a sense of calm across the barren wastelands. A hush descended and only the sound of insects chirping could be heard echoing dully through the lonely city. Rodents scampered and scurried, setting about finding a much sought after meal. Birds flew high overhead looking to scavenge a feast signifying that the food chain became active again.

  Bright sunlight greeted the man and his companion as they ventured out through the doorway onto the wide open street before them. The air had a clean fresh tinge to it with the rotten putrid stench of decay now washed away for the time being.

  With a stretch the man donned his full-faced tactical helmet, readjusted the mask and slid the goggles over his eyes. Reached for his Mossberg, cradled it in his hands before giving it a pump. He was ready now. Slapping his thigh he signaled for the dog to follow him as he set off to survey the neighborhood.

  Surface water lay everywhere with huge pools overflowing onto the streets, knee-deep still in some places. Sodden litter and debris were piled up everywhere, having been carried there in torrents of flowing water from other parts of the city.

  It was quiet outside – too quiet.

  A three-block radius that was all that he wanted to comb today for it was a late start, mid-morning now and he did not want to waste the entire day doing a perimeter sweep. Still, it needed to be done and it was part of his ‘code’.

  What the creatures did during a storm he honestly had no idea as he cared little about the God-forsaken savages. It was still an intriguing question though, one he pondered as he strolled watchfully on. The undead were nowhere to be seen in any direction which was rather odd, for there were usually at the very least a few milling around at this time of day. The area was completely deserted, it was as if they too had hunkered down away from the wind and rain.

  “Where are you, you filthy fucking beasts,” he muttered impatiently under his breath. “I know know you’re out here, just show yourselves and we’ll get this over with quickly.”

  Noon passed and the sun continued to dry the soaked city below. There was a sense of tranquility about the new day, calm quiet and bright, somewhat inviting. Amidst it all the man knew that this was the perfect setting for him to be caught out if he let his guard down, even for a second. He remained on high alert marching on with more caution than he was usually accustomed to on a simple stroll around the block.

  Movement.

  Bark!

  Turning to look the man caught sight of shadows up ahead and set off immediately to investigate. “Good boy,” he whispered quietly, thankful once again for his canine friend’s alertness.

  There was a disturbance up ahead coming from inside an abandoned tram in the centre of the road, a few hundred yards away. Shadows and shapes moved inside as it rocked slowly from side to side.

  “There you are you stinky, slimy pieces of shit!” Gritting his teeth he raised his shotgun and continued on. “I knew you were here somewhere.”

  Placing a foot on the first step he breathed in, shook off any fear or doubt that might be lingering and followed the barrel of his shotgun inside. Seconds later a loud gunshot echoed through the wastelands.

  5

  Eye in the Wind

  “Fuuuuuck!”

  Coughing.

  “What the fuck were you doing here lady?”

  Blood curdling gargles purled from within the tram.

  Bark!

  “Fuck!”

  Bark!

  “Alright, I fucking heard you!” The man yelled at his pet from out of the corner of his mouth, all the while maintaining eye contact with his victim.

  A sudden gust of wind howled past the windows of the tram, giving off the similar sound to that of a banshee wail. Eerily scary given the circumstances.

  Blinking, the man continued to stare. “Honestly lady, what the bloody hell were you doing?”

  Laying back against a seat the woman spluttered, tried hard to speak but with her life-force draining fast she had no fight left within her. Bright red blood, unlike the tainted color of the blood of the undead trickled down her chin onto her khaki clothing. Vacant eyes stared blankly as they began to glaze over.

  Death came and her soul departed.

  In a state of shock the man simply stood there for a few moments hunched over the dead woman’s body slowly shaking his head. He tried hard to justify his actions despite knowing full well that he had just killed an innocent survivor. In his mind he passed over the blame, it was easier to deal with the guilt that way and besides, who would stop him anyway.

  You stupid woman, why didn’t you just give me a sign? You’d be alive if you had’ve just waved or yelled! That’s all you fucking-well had to do!

  Long dark days on the road had seen him struggle around the living. He was not good at addressing the dead either.

  Bark!

  “What the fuck is it now!” he snapped. The dog lowered its head and gave a slight whimper.

  Looking up sharply the man peered out through the windows of the tram to see what had alerted his lookout. Creatures, hundreds of the hideous beasts were shuffling out of time and heading straight towards them.

  Moaning!

  Bark!

  In a panic the man spun around, peering out through the other windows of the tram only to be greeted with the same sight in every direction. Realizing what he had done he crapped himself, the gravity of the situation hitting him like a sledgehammer to the face. The shotgun had sounded an alert awakening the undead from their hibernation and they were now bearing down as fast as they were able to.
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br />   Isolated and trapped in the centre of the road the man and his companion were rapidly being hemmed in. Death loomed on all fronts and there was little he could do now to stop their advance, there was simply no escape from the incoming army of the undead.

  Racing to the door he pulled it shut in a desperate attempt to keep the creatures at bay, but opening inwards he sighed knowing it would not hold against the force of the creatures once they arrived. Dragging the body of the dead woman down the aisle he tossed her into the stairwell, using her deadweight to prop the door securely shut. She was dead, he had no compassion or feelings for her inert form now whatsoever. A cold but necessary realization.

  Taking up position in the middle of the tram he pulled off his backpack and readied himself for the impending conflict. Cursed himself for dropping his guard and getting caught out like this, he was usually so vigilant and so careful. Muttered something about being an idiot under his breath.

  Moaning intensified outside as the swarm arrived in numbers hitting the tram hard and rocking it from side to side. Desperate to reach what lay inside boney sickly fingers scratched and clawed at the metal exterior of the boxcar.

  At that precise moment the man’s life would change forever. The sound that filled his ears right then was so distinct, he recognized it immediately and it chilled him to the very core of his being. A baby’s cry, soft at first it rapidly escalated into a loud wail. It came from somewhere around him inside, close-by. Raising an eyebrow he peered over the seat in front of him to see a tiny bundle of rags, wriggling and writhing.

  Reaching over he unfurled the tiny package to revel an infant, a baby boy dressed in a blue jumpsuit and a woolen jumper. The child was very young only weeks old, frail and weak barely able to breathe let alone cry.

  Closing his eyes tightly the man’s heart sank as he realized the enormity of what had happened here today. A pang of guilt swept over him as shame and emotional pain sacked him right there and then. It was all too much causing him to drop to his knees and begin to sob. His mind took him back to memories of his own family and his children, all of whom he had lost when the world turned.