by Michael Carr
The time has come to put his plan into action, so he removes the buildup in front of the hole. He scouts for any dead that may want to assume a surprise attack while he makes his way through the fence. Thankfully, the eastside fence appears to be clear from the commotion earlier at the city’s front gate. After clearing the opening, Corey takes off at a rapid pace. He heads towards a restaurant that he remembered sometime ago located on the outskirts of the city. His thoughts are to get there and make camp. Initially, this is probably not a bad idea. There might be at least a small supply of food and in a worse case scenario, a thick freezer for refuge should he come under attack. It was there that he wants to settle and figure out plan B.
The pavement does not radiate heat like it once did with the constant flow of traffic, so Corey pulls up his hoodie for warmth. The hoodie offers some comfort as the eeriness of the terrain becomes reality to him. Thunder rumbles in the background. He turns and looks back at the city...nope; the urge to return is not strong enough.
As he continues forward, a feeling returns...a disturbing sense of being watched comes over him. Moving forward the feeling grows stronger with each step. He stops in place and looks down hoping the stillness will ward off the bad buzz. The feeling is too real and the thought of turning around is an unnerving idea. Behind Corey lightning strikes and for a brief moment, a clear view of the flat desert is seen...as if someone had flicked a light switch on and back off. Corey reaches into his bag this time having no trouble finding his drill and quickly checks the batteries. As the lightening quickly flashes again...a tall figure is seen standing close behind him. Large arms sweep into grab Corey, but he senses the movement in time to drop and roll away.
The beast is left with an empty bear hug. Corey, on the ground looks up, “You! I remember you, from the fence.” He realizes he is not dealing with a common walker...it is different like he noted earlier in the city. This one appears to have an agenda. If it had actually wanted to harm Corey, it would have followed up with an attack and not hesitated. Corey feels compelled to ask with his usual sarcastic wit, “What? Not enough flesh back in the city?” The hulking monster drops its jaw and responds back as it only knows how,”ARRRRRGH!”
Corey takes the reply of reverberation as a warning and grips the drill. He says under his breath, “Time to see what being three cans short will get me.” The two pace slowly sideways never breaking eye contact with each other, the delay begins to frustrate Corey. He does not want his lack of action to be considered a weakness. “Forget it! Let's do this!” Jumping up and landing on the giant's chest, Corey uses his free hand to grab the zombie's head. The walker is now madder than ever but still does not attempt to inflict any type of torture to Corey.
Corey revs up the drill and at the same time, the zombie grabs Corey's left leg. In an attempt to get the annoying human to comply, the large figure starts to push Corey away. But, it is too late...Corey has the creature’s head positioned and inserts the drill into the beast’s temple. Hovering over the creature, he takes pleasure in watching the zombie's eyes roll to the back of its head, as if to match the cadence of the drill bit’s rotation.
Just before the oddity expires, its last action is tossing Corey off and into a massive pile of desert rock. Dazed, Corey is on all fours looking down hoping to regain his senses quickly. He slowly crawls towards the zombie that is now lying on its back. A large puncture on the side of its head quickly discharges blood and segments of matter. Corey, suffering from a concoction of blurred visions, follows the trail of secretion until he makes his way to his defeated enemy. He examines the body to verify that it is indeed finished.
Through his review of the lifeless giant, he sees an identifiable mark on the exhausted beast’s hand, one he thinks he recognizes. A symbol from Corey’s past...a unique and strange skull resting on a pool of blood and bordered by a flaming wing crest. “What is it doing here? Is it strictly a coincidence?” In fact, he tries to convince himself that it now only resembles the emblem he had in mind. He applies pressure to his temple, “Shit my head hurts! No wonder I'm seeing things!”
A response from behind speaks out, “You are not seeing things, Corey. It’s true, I exist.”
Corey turns back to see and responds in a hoarse voice, “Thomas!?!” Corey is shaken…this was the LAST person or THING he expected to see. Corey asks again with less hesitation in his voice, “Thomas?”
A being appears in a formal dress uniform, complete with medals and a beret speaks, “It has been a long time.”
As Corey starts to stand, he releases the corpse's hand suggesting he now knows the emblem’s origin and why the beast was following him. “Shit! What happened to you?” Corey remarks showing he is aware of Thomas' appearance and that his question is rhetorical.
Thomas is in fact infected...but fully functional as a human. Thomas has all the characteristics: the sunken face, the opaque eyes and the green-gray skin that is common in the diseased, but his intelligence is superior to any other infected being with which Corey has come into contact.
Thomas steps into a bit more light removing all doubt that he truly is only a decaying form of the childhood friend Corey once knew. With the drill still gripped in his hand, Corey tips his head forward looking at Thomas suspiciously. Thomas growls, “It wasn't necessary for you to have eliminated your guide!”
Corey in his typical smartass way, “If I was being summoned, why not send a limo. Besides...your boy here had poor people skills.”
Corey examines Thomas' face more from a distance...still trying to put together what is in front of him. Without any restraint, Corey asks the question that he had in his mind just moments ago “You're different from him. How is it you can...?”
Thomas interrupts, “Talk? Function as a normal human? Yes, it is one of the benefits of leading the guild...for being chosen.” Thomas turns gesturing for Corey to follow.
Thomas walks Corey towards the base. Still clinching the drill, he is reluctant to follow Thomas, but the curiosity is too much. Thomas continues, “I don't have much time...so I will have to brief you the rest of the way to the base. In this guild, we are all family. My troops have pledged their loyalty by taking my mark.”
Most people would not ask anything that might agitate the situation, but Corey does not restrain himself from inquiring, “Hold up, are you referring to the army tattoo that you got a few years back? Pffft... doesn't seem to have done ‘Tiny’ any favors back there.”
Thomas continues as if not to hear Corey. He marches towards an old chicken and waffle restaurant carrying on with his soliloquy. “A loyal army is important. The subordinates get the organs...a constant food source to keep them compelled to follow me and ready to fight.”
Corey digs further, “What, no waffles? How do you recruit under such false advertisement?”
Thomas stops with an army of glowing eyes behind him, “I see you haven't lost your sarcasm...the sign of a strong mind...that can be appreciated later.”
Corey becomes too fixated on the glowing eyes to grasp Thomas' comment. “Never mind what I said. Recruiting appears to be going well...so, you said something about fighting. Fighting whom? I just figured you took what you wanted. What’s standing in your way?”
Thomas extends his arms outward to indicate he is in control of all within his surroundings. He boasts, “Other guilds...the military.” Corey walks past Thomas to observe the restaurant. He realizes this was supposed to be his camp, his destination from the city he just left. Thomas adds, “That’s why your assistance is needed.”
Corey looks back at Thomas and says in disbelief “Needed...RIIIGHT!” Corey continues looking at the building. He can only think that there is no plan B. He considers hearing Thomas out since he was told he was ‘needed’ and, thus far, no real harm had come to him. Looking at it now, he realizes the beast clearly held back in the confrontation even though Corey emptied its head.
Corey grows more inquisitive, “You mentioned others. So you’re telling me the
unorganized undead are now the organized dead… Is that like zombie GANGS? Shit! That’s kinda funny! Oh wait! No, maybe it’s zombie unions…so that would make you the godfather, right?”
Thomas becomes annoyed. It seems that he is not being taken seriously. His appointed rank does not allow for such absurdness. He closes his eyes tightly and clinches his fists. The once glowing eyes behind him scatter...the sound of numerous troops running off is heard. Thomas attempts to clear his throat but struggles...it has been awhile since he has feasted. The lack of human blood to lubricate his vocal cords keeps his voice raspy and parched.
He gathers himself to interject information important to Corey's understanding. “YES! There ARE other guilds using the weapons...the benefits you survivors left behind. There is a struggle, a need to take ownership of all that is abandoned. I can easily put an end to the chaos, with your help.”
Corey can only ask further “Me? What would I do?”
Thomas crosses his arms and begins to expand on the operation, “We were friends once...allies!” Corey understands he is getting somewhere but must act disinterested to gain more information, but not so disinterested as to upset the situation, “A lot has happened since then! You are not even... (Corey hesitates a bit)...human now.”
“Yep, I'm nothing more than a savage!” Even though Thomas’ physical state impairs his memory at times, there is something he does recall. “However, I am a savage that can protect you while you continue your journey and possibly get your family back!” Thomas opens the restaurant door and motions Corey in.
“No...MY FAMILY!?! How do you know anything about them?” Corey yells. This was not news he was prepared to hear.
Corey remains steadfastly at the entrance as Thomas gives in and enters the restaurant first hoping to win Corey's trust. Thomas continues into the somewhat barren wood-finished room, dusty and unkempt. He turns and sits facing the entrance at a desk covered with scattered papers. With his arctic-mist colored eyes, Thomas follows the long dark shadow Corey casts into the restaurant until he makes direct eye contact with the human. Thomas offers more, “Your family is what you want most. I remember them. You were close. I believe I have located them, news I thought you would appreciate.”
With some sense of mental exhaustion, Corey exclaims, “I’ve dealt with enough! I can find them on my own... Just tell me what you know!”
Thomas is pleased that he has Corey's attention. “I suggest you come in. The grunts are about to eat. You do not want to be out there when that happens...they tend to wander.”
Corey enters...Thomas stops him, “You’re going to need to shut the door.” Corey looks at Thomas as if he does not appreciate the direction, but he walks over to the entrance and slams the door closed with extra force.
Thomas goes back to business and begins thumbing through the numerous papers laid out on the desk in no particular order. Corey approaches Thomas. Thomas states without looking away, “There’s food in the pantry over there. Help yourself. I have no use for it. As you can see I have some intelligence to review before we leave.”
Corey, not happy with the assumption that he is going anywhere quickly remarks, “We? Leave?!? I am not going anywhere! You were about to tell me more about my family.”
Thomas looks up and smirks, “The intelligence on your family isn't complete. We have a stop to make before we get to our primary target. I will brief you on the way.”
Corey slams his fist on the desk raising his other hand showing the drill. “NO WAY! TELL ME ABOUT MY BROTHER AND SISTER! NOW!!!” Thomas leans back in his chair, brings his hands together in front of his mouth trying not to smile ear to ear.
“At Ease Corey! Please have something to eat.” Thomas stands and turns away from Corey and approaches a window. Corey has not eaten lately and needs food. He throws some food in his bag and begins to wolf down a jar of peanut butter. Thomas sticks his fingers through the blinds and separates them to welcome in the view of what is about to happen outside. As he continues to look out the window, he offers Corey more insight. “Your family is believed to be in a facility we are about to obtain... I will require your help to achieve this. My mind is not what it used to be since I became infected...it has become cloudy. I could use one like yours...to assist me.”
Corey presses, “So, I have your word…if I assist you, you will lead me to my family.”
“Yes.”
Thomas quickly changes the subject to the events outside. “I see the troops are feasting.” Corey approaches the window but grabs the strings to the blinds and jerks them to make the event on the other side instantly observable.
Corey's eyes have not had a chance to adjust to the strange lighting in the restaurant. Dim in areas and bright in others resulting from hanging lamps that sway to the entering draft, “Should I ask what’s for dinner?”
Thomas narrows his eyes and simply gives an excuse, “Our preferred option is in short supply.”
Corey is now able to make out an army of zombies devouring farm animals...of all types. He seems to pick up where he left off earlier with his wit, “Animals aren't in short supply?” He chuckles a bit until Thomas looks at him out of the corner of his eye.
Thomas looks back out the window with envy. His hunger is starting to get the best of him; but he knows there is a prize to be had at the Colony. As he battles the ache, he expands more on how the system operates, “The animals satisfy the troop's hunger, but I require a higher level of protein to maintain my sense of intelligence. It is my conditioning before the outbreak and exposure to the infection that makes me different... a constant hunger, a need to lead and to control the Colony.” Thomas is in awe of himself. He appreciates his abilities and is not afraid to display his confidence.
Corey now more curious than ever states, “That’s all very interesting, but why me?” Thomas turns to Corey and leans in “I’m not a total savage. Besides, you’ve always been a risk-taker. Just know protection is yours, as long as you stay with us as we divert to the Colony...where I believe your family is held.”
“Here we go with this Colony thing again. Damn Thomas! You've lost more than your complexion!” Corey would continue but two officers entering the restaurant interrupt him.
Thomas makes his way over to the officers and reminds them in a low tone, “Protect Corey at all costs! He is vital to the completion of this mission.” Thomas turns away from his officers and approaches Corey, “You will go with Malcolm and Jordan. I will meet you at the vehicle.”
Corey is confused but believes that Thomas knows more than he is letting on about his family. He also thinks it is worth sticking around to find out more, just keep his guard up. The two officers direct him to a personnel carrier where they wait for further direction. A caravan of eight or so vehicles is lined up with a mass of armed infected soldiers waiting to board the carriers. They stare Corey down.
Corey wonders at what point the protection Thomas offered is in effect. He hopes it is immediately because the troops’ leering and overwhelming stench begins to sicken the young survivor. He pulls a bandanna from his back pocket to wrap over his nose and tie behind his neck to block the unpleasant odor. Unfortunately, as distasteful as their smell is to him, Corey’s scent is disturbingly appetizing to the troops.
Thomas finally appears...jumping on top of the lead military vehicle. Corey is somewhat relieved that the attention is taken off him for a moment. Thomas stands with his arms spread out, “The moment has come. We are ready to roll out! Gear up and fall into your assignments!” After the announcement, the vehicles are heard starting up. A lot of movement is seen... undead soldiers running to their positions and finalizing preparations for an obvious planned attack. Corey feels a need for his hood.
As Corey continues to stand and observe, Thomas startles him. “Get in Corey, it's time to move.” Corey gets in the carrier without an issue, quickly shutting the door. Without any delay, the carrier and the line behind it pull off…on to the first stop.
“It is import
ant you stay close to me. No need for you to be involved in our first stop…a minor skirmish.” Thomas senses Corey's uneasiness. Corey opens the window slightly...hoping to clear the vehicle’s smell of decay. Malcolm, the driver states something to Thomas sitting in the front passenger seat. Corey is unfamiliar with this dialect. He thinks to himself, “Great, not only are they armed but they have their own damn language too.”
Corey needs more explanation. He lowers the cover on his face, “Seriously, what is this about?” Thomas stares ahead as thoughts of what he expects formulate in his mind. He smiles widely and with satisfaction, “I told you earlier about what is happening beyond the confines of your cities. There is a struggle going on among the undead! One to which you are about to be introduced…one that I plan to control.” Corey's eyes enlarge to the sound of Thomas’ handgun, the sound of a magazine being loaded.
Thomas puts the weapon in a shoulder holster and then reaches for a sawed-off shotgun under the seat. He pulls out the shells from his breast pocket and begins to load, “You need to know that there are many types of infected wandering around aimlessly. Zombie warlords have taken notice and gathered their armies. They all want control over humanity and the ruins we now consider paradise. I am different, I can assure you.”
“Is that what you are now...a warlord?” Corey shifts a bit in his seat.
Thomas grabs the rear view mirror...turning it to bring Corey into his view, “Not HARDLY! I am a leader…natural born. You know that!”
Corey is not surprised by Thomas' continuing egotistical banter. He was like that most of his life. Corey chooses not to listen any longer and turns to press his head against the window looking out. He wants a moment to think.
He starts thinking about the time he came to pick up Thomas to get his first tattoo when they both were eighteen. Thomas was just weeks away from basic training and already the best solider...in his own mind. His mom, Sandy, did not care for Corey. She considered him odd. Therefore, when Corey arrived at the house, he stayed in the car. As Thomas came out of the house, his mom gave Corey the same glazed look of uncertainty. She felt Thomas' rebelliousness was a result of being around Corey.
