imagined a corpse lying there against the wal ? But the bloodstain... She was sure there had been a
body there. Where did it go? Maybe there hadn't been a body. Samantha did hit her head pretty hard in the crash. Maybe she had a concussion.
She just about jumped a mile in the air when she heard a loud metal CLANG nearby, as though
something had fal en over. She immediately shone the flashlight in that direction to see a metal
bucket rocking on its side on the floor, as though it had just been knocked over. Samantha took a
deep breath to try and calm herself. She could not do much good if she shook herself to pieces.
She slowly aimed her flashlight around the room, revealing every corner, but frowned when she saw
nothing out of the ordinary. She performed a second sweep of the room, but stil could not locate the
corpse. Where the hell did it go?
Samantha looked around the room one last time, and then turned to leave the storeroom. She had to
get back to the others. However, as soon as she walked through the door, an arm flung out of the
darkness and smacked her in the face, sending her pistol flying out of her hands. The young woman
stumbled backward into the storeroom with the force of the blow, and then aimed her flashlight
forward. She was met with the hideous sight of the horribly-disfigured body from before coming
straight at her, its mouth curled upward in a viscous snarl.
Without thinking, Samantha swung her flashlight, striking her attacker across the face and sending it
stumbling back a few steps. It growled in frustration, its dinner plans having been set back
momentarily. However, Samantha did not plan on entertaining this notion. She reached over her
shoulder and grabbed the crowbar slung across her back, the same one that Corvo had given her
earlier that day. Her attacker screeched, and she immediately swung the crowbar, smashing it in the
face. Blood splattered across the wal s, and the offender dropped like a stone.
Corvo felt himself being shaken awake a while later, by a flustered-looking Samantha. "Are you
alright?" he asked, immediately alert.
"Yeah, everything's fine," she replied. "Just waking you up to take over sentry duty."
"Um, Samantha…?"
"Yeah?"
Corvo pointed to her face. "You've, uh, got some blood on you."
She put a hand to her face to find specks of blood from her recent attacker al over her face. "Oh.
Thanks," she said, wiping herself clean with the leftover Molotov rag.
It was another overcast day in Fairfield as the four survivors picked their way through the wreckage
of the industrial district several hours later. Fortunately, they were well-rested, and their spirits were
higher. Not by much, though.
"Hey, Jacob. Isn't this the al eyway where you were born?" Markus cal ed out jokingly.
"Heh, real funny," he growled. "Isn't this the one you're going to die in?"
"Easy guys," Samantha interjected.
They made their way past several rows of warehouses, dispatching the occasional Common
Infected that they came across. Fortunately, they did not run into any larger groups.
"There sure are a lot of barricades blocking the roads," Markus commented as they passed yet
another wal of cement, adorned with barbed wire, blocking a road to the south.
"The army must have set them up to stop people from leaving the city," Corvo said.
Markus looked at him in shock. "Isn't the army trying to help people? What do they say to the ones they've trapped here?"
"Col ateral damage," the old veteran replied simply.
The group continued their march through the streets, staying alert for danger. However, as they
moved closer toward the edge of the city, they found their movement increasingly impaired by
roadblocks and barricades.
"Damn army. I hate the army," Jacob growled.
They soon came across an abandoned military truck, with a mini-gun emplacement sitting on the
back tray. A large artil ery cannon was set up nearby. The area looked as though it had been set up
as a defensive position, but was seemingly abandoned.
"That's a Howitzer," Corvo said, looking at the large artil ery cannon.
"Damn," Markus whistled, impressed. "That thing would do a lot of damage."
Samantha looked the Howitzer over thoughtful y, and then turned her head westward toward a large
barricade blocking the road. "Barricade… big-ass gun." The others turned to look at her. "Anybody got any ideas?" she asked teasingly.
Corvo thought her plan over. Destroying the barricade would be the quickest way out of the city. But
there was an issue. "Speaking from experience, firing that gun wil make a LOT of noise. It's sure to
bring a whole shit-swarm of Infected down on us."
"That's okay, we can let Samantha handle it," Jacob said sarcastically, turning to her. "Just pretend they're al helicopter pilots."
"Infected, Jacob!" she exclaimed. "He. Was. INFECTED!"
After Jacob had pretty much threatened to kil anyone who took control of the mini-gun bar himself,
both he and Markus climbed up into the back tray of the military truck, while the others took up
positions on the ground. Markus found a second Uzi in the truck and gave it to Samantha, who was
more than grateful, while Corvo swivelled the Howitzer around to aim it at the barricade to the west.
"When I fire this thing, all hel 's gonna break loose," he said warningly. He nodded at the north side of the road, which disappeared down a steep dirt slope. "Markus, be ready to throw those Molotovs
when you see 'em crest that hill."
Markus nodded nervously, while Jacob swung the mini-gun around, testing its turning arc.
"Try not to hit me with that thing," Samantha cal ed up to him.
"Try not to shoot down any more helicopters," he shot back.
She blew out a breath in frustration, choosing to ready her Molotovs and Uzi rather than waste her
mental strength on a witty retort.
"Firing Howitzer!" Corvo yel ed.
A deafening crack whipped out from the barrel of the large cannon, fol owed by a loud blast as a
shell slammed into the barricade, utterly annihilating it in a hail of debris, dust and smoke. As the sound faded away, it was replaced by angry howls and screeches filling the air.
"Here they come!" Corvo shouted, climbing up into the tray of the truck as Samantha followed him.
Jacob was the first to open fire, the muzzle of the mini-gun disappearing in a mass of flame as the
barrel rotated, spitting out bul ets at an incredible rate of fire. The unrelenting hail of lead tore
through the Infected approaching from the west through the ruined barricade, reducing them to
bloody pulps.
Markus and Samantha kept their eyes to the north, and immediately threw a Molotov each when
they saw Infected beginning to appear over the slope. The bottles flew through the air and exploded
in twin sheets of flame, setting fire to any who dared to cross them. The rapid-fire from their Uzis cut
down those that managed to make it through the blaze. Corvo, having borrowed Jacob' shotgun,
was busy keeping at bay the stragglers who managed to break through their defences.
"How's everyone doing?" he yelled.
It was a useless gesture. The roar of the mini-gun, intermingled with the col ective cries of the
Infected made his attempts to communicate al but useless. More and more Infected were
appearing, and the gunfire was continuous. Suddenly, the mini-gun slowed to a stop.
"Shit! Out of ammo!" Jacob swore, drawing his pistol.
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He fired at the oncoming horde approaching from the west, but there were too many for him to
handle with a simple pistol, and it was getting to the point where it looked as though they were about
to overwhelm the truck. Suddenly, Jacob saw a blur of red to his right and looked to see Samantha
pushing past him, throwing her second Molotov into the crowd. There was a flash of light, and the
once-dangerous wave of enemies was reduced to a burning crisp. Jacob nodded at Samantha in
thanks and she reciprocated. After a few more tense minutes, the gunfire final y ceased, and the
military truck stood amid a ring of fire, death and blood.
"Phew!" Markus breathed, wiping his brow on his shirt sleeve. "That was intense! "
The biker immediately marched up to Corvo. "I'd like my shotgun back now, old man."
"If I wasn't so tired right now, you'd have a size 10 army boot up your ass, Jacob."
Samantha sat down, leaning her back against the tray, trying to catch her breath. The fight had taken
a lot out of her. Suddenly, a hand was extended down to help her up. She looked up and was
shocked to see that it was Jacob.
"Alright, let's move, people," Corvo said. "We definitely stepped on a few egg shel s with that shootout, and knowing our luck, every infected son of a bitch in the city heard it."
With that, the four survivors walked down the road and ploughed through the destroyed barricade,
stepping onto a high bridge. Far below, the smouldering wreckage of a derailed train still burned
furiously.
"Wow…" Jacob whistled. "Samantha must've shot the train conductor." However, he said this with a hint of teasing in his voice.
Samantha sighed. Was he ever going to let it go? "The helicopter pilot was infec – oh, screw it. The
pilot was a ZOMBIE, Jacob!" She put her hands on her hips indignantly. "Okay, you know what? He
was a zombie. Zombie, zombie, zombie. Not a pilot. He was a ZOMBIE, Jacob!"
The group crossed the bridge without incident and made their way down the far bank toward a
cluster of metal transport containers. Thunder rumbled across the early afternoon sky.
"Are you kidding me?" Jacob groaned. "It's going to rain again? "
Suddenly, Markus spotted a familiar symbol spray-painted on the road; a white house with a cross
inside. The same symbol had led him to his first safe-room. "Guys! There's a safe-house up ahead!"
"Hot damn!" Corvo said, pleased. "That is good news."
They walked in the direction of the arrow and soon saw a familiar red door built into a squat cement
building.
"Nice!" Markus cried, running forward. " Man, are you a sight for sore eyes!"
As they walked down the hil toward the safe-house, Jacob suddenly put a hand on Samantha's
shoulder and stopped her, letting the others go on ahead.
"Hey, listen," he said awkwardly. "I, uh… Well, thanks for savin' my ass back there."
Samantha cocked her head to one side. Was this real y happening?
"Also… I just wanted to say sorry," the big biker said sheepishly. "You know, for being such a dick lately."
Samantha smiled, and patted him on the shoulder. "Apology accepted, Jacob!" She then continued
down the hill, shaking her head in disbelief. Had Jacob just apologised? And thanked her! Maybe that concussion she had was worse than she thought.
Jacob watched her go. "Man, I hate apologising to girls…"
Chapter 20
While Jacob secured the safe-house door, Corvo sat down on the floor of the safe-room and leaned
back against the wall as he lit up a cigarette. He was pleased to have found a pump-action shotgun,
along with a full box of shel s, lying forgotten in the corner of the room, which he eagerly traded his
metal pipe for.
"I reckon we rest up here for a couple of hours. But then we should get moving again."
Jacob shot him a strange look. "We do that, and we'll be leaving at night-time. Is that such a good
idea?"
Corvo took a deep puff from his cigarette. "Every rabid son of a bitch within a three mile radius
probably heard the racket we made firing off that Howitzer. They'll be closing in on where the noise
came from. I want to put as much distance between us and that gun as possible."
Suddenly, Samantha, who had been looking around the safe-room, spoke up. "Hey, guys. Take a
look at this."
The others looked over at her and saw a hastily-scrawled message on the wall behind her.
PETER
ARMY IS STILL IN RIVERSIDE
WE'RE WAITING FOR YOU AT THE DEPOT
WE FINISHED THE TRUCK
HURRY
"We should check out that truck depot," Samantha suggested. "Maybe there's something there that we can use to drive out of here."
"Sounds like a plan," Markus agreed, while Jacob nodded.
"I hate walking. Driving out of this shithole city in style would be nice."
As Jacob began to clean his shotgun and sidearm, and the others prepared a paltry meal of jerky
and bruised-looking apples scavenged from the hospital, Samantha surveyed the rest of the
messages written on the wal s. There was an argument between several people over which one of
them had kil ed the most zombies, and one individual had put down in writing his longing for the
internet. Suddenly, a poem written in neat, loopy handwriting caught her eye.
Jonathan,
You have touched my very being. I shal remember you.
You taught al that know you what courage is.
And have shown us an example in death as you did in life.
God give me strength in my life without you.
And I shal thank him.
I can only hope our souls shall entwine again
In that place where there is only love, no tears, no sadness,
No injustice, no cruelty, no white, no black ( no zombies, someone had added here)
No hate, no war, only love
Alison
"Damn..." Samantha muttered to herself. "What a God-awful poem..." She then noticed that
someone else had scribbled a message below the pretentious poetry.
Jesus lady. I'm hiding from zombies and reading this was the most terrible thing to happen to
me today.
Samantha chuckled. "Too right, man."
Several hours later, the metal safe-house door swung open once more and Corvo led the way out
into the night. However, something felt immediately wrong, more so than usual. Usually, the distant
moans and growls of the former humans now inhabiting the continent could be heard coming
from somewhere. Corvo strained his ears and listened. He could not hear howling, or screaming, or
anything. Absolutely nothing. It made the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end.
Markus and Samantha fol owed, covering him with their submachine guns, while Jacob casually
strode out of the building, cocking his shotgun. The four of them made their way around the
cinderblock structure and into an abandoned scrap yard, skirting the various piles of twisted metal.
All the while, Markus glanced around nervously at the dark outlines of the various junk surrounding
them.
This is bullshit... We're totally out in the open here...
His heart started pounding when he heard some rustling off to the right. He immediately swung his
flashlight around, but could not locate the culprit behind the noise he just heard... Or had he? It was
so quiet... Maybe he was just imagining things?
"Move it along," Jacob growled from behind, startling him into motion again.
The ragtag little group pushed forward thr
ough the junkyard in a tense silence. Samantha felt the
somewhat good mood she had been in when they left the safe-house quickly evaporating. It was not
fair. They had made it to Jameson Hospital, and fought their way to the helicopter. They should be in
the safe-zone by now, sitting back and chil ing in deck-chairs with mojitos on the beach. Or…
something like that.
Why were they stil in Fairfield, wandering through a dark and dank junkyard?
"This is weird…" she said presently, as three pairs of eyes turned to her. "I mean, where are al the Infected?" Seeing Markus' puzzled expression, she quickly added, "Not that I'm complaining."
"I was wondering about that too," Corvo replied solemnly. "Until I saw that." He jerked his thumb ahead toward a horrific sight of carnage.
Two helicopters lay crumpled and broken side-by-side, smashed to pieces. They must have marked
the place of an obviously-failed evacuation attempt. Countless shards of glass covered the ground,
along with hideously bent and buckled pieces of rotor and fuselage. The scorch marks and lack of
fire gave sight to the fact that whatever events transpired here had happened a while ago.
Samantha was glad to have missed them.
"What the hel happened here?" Markus exclaimed in shock. "Do you think the army shot them down or something?"
Corvo had moved in take a closer look at one of the helicopters, and what he saw chil ed him to the
bone. The entire left-hand side of the fuselage was buckled inward, as though it had been hit with
tremendous force. But it was the shape of the dent that was most disturbing – it almost looked like
the outline of a gigantic fist! He could even see the circular depressions from four great knuckles, the
size of baseballs, and the dents from four fat fingers, each one the width of his entire hand.
My god…
"What is it, old man?" Jacob chimed in. "I thought you'd be used to seeing crashed helicopters by now? What, with fighting in Vietnam, and knowing her." The biker jerked a thumb at Samantha with the last word, to which she shot him an angry look.
The old veteran straightened up. "We're leaving. Now. "
"What is it, Corvo?" Samantha asked in alarm.
"Whatever did this sure as hell wasn't the army. It was something else – something big. Whatever it is, it has the Common Infected in the area either in hiding, or running scared. We've got to – "
Damned Are We Page 12
