Aftermath (Book 1): Only The Head Will Take Them Down

by Duncan McArdle

  Donald hesitated to respond, weighing up whether past offences were really relevant any more, before eventually answering. “Assault, robbery, grand theft auto… stupid crap I did years back, record always followed me round though”, he explained.

  “Any time in the service?”, John asked, “Seem to know your way around guns pretty well”.

  “No time in the service, plenty of time around guns though, came with the lifestyle”, Donald replied.

  John simply nodded, content with the small amount he had finally learnt about Donald, before turning his attention back to the road in front.

  Up ahead the road straightened out, revealing for the first time much more than just a short distance, instead showing off miles and miles of mostly empty highway, culminating in a series of snaking bends that appeared to build up to a bridge, before falling back away into the distance. John had managed to ascertain roughly where they were, and so knew that the bridge in the distance marked their crossing of Lake Wisconsin, a point that although likely to be clogged up with dead and turned motorists, meant they would then be starting the descent into Madison, their final pit-stop along the journey.

  “Want me to take over?”, Donald asked.

  “Not with your ankle I don’t”, John replied.

  “It’s getting better, healing up pretty quick”, Donald explained.

  “Good, it’ll heal up even quicker with you sat there not using it for anything”, John pointed out, clearly unwilling to let Donald risk injuring himself even more by attempting to drive.

  “Fine”, Donald said, “Just don’t complain that you’ve been doing all the heavy lifting once we get there”, he ordered, half-jokingly, before reaching down and picking up his AK from the floor.

  “Jesus if you’re gonna get violent about it”, John joked at the sight of the weapon.

  Donald simply smirked in response, as he wound down his window.

  In this ‘modern’ day, few activities passed as ‘fun’, and even less were regularly available. A society wide dependency on technology meant that for most, the term fun went out the window when the power-grid did. For some though, uncontrolled and unregulated gun access provided many an ample opportunity for excitement, and no person took greater pleasure from it than Donald. Slowly he began to lean out of the vehicle, his AK held firm and pointing straight ahead of them, just as a small group of the undead came into view up ahead. Each body appeared to be aimlessly wandering from vehicle to vehicle, their ears aware of a growing noise, but their delinquent brains unable to comprehend just where exactly it was coming from, each of them simply circling their own little area, hoping to bump into the source.

  Realising his companion’s intentions, John slowed the truck slightly, to a speed that was neither so fast it would disturb Donald’s aim, nor slow enough to put them in any real danger. His eyes simultaneously scanned the field of vehicles ahead, calculating the best possible route. John knew that there were few things stupider than wasting precious ammunition, especially when it was done as part of an exercise that helped them in no way whatsoever. In fact, what Donald was about to do simply endangered them even more, by filling the area with the sound of gunfire, and with it notifying damn near everything with ears for miles around – both living and dead – to their exact location. Despite all that however, it somehow seemed completely appropriate. Without the occasional reckless piece of fun he was sure both men would soon succumb to insanity, and so he said nothing to Donald, and instead began to slowly navigate the first sets of vehicles.

  Within seconds, the bullets started to fly, their spent casings clattering down on the hood of the truck, some rolling across the windscreen or flicking back into the rear cargo bay, others landing on and bouncing off of the various nearby vehicles. Donald had obviously not used such a powerful weapon for some time, the first few shots recoiling the rifle so badly that his grip on its body was almost lost. After a few near misses though, he eventually got to grips with its power, and managed to bag his first kill of the day. It was the true definition of a walking carcass, moving at an almost standstill pace, ready to drop to the floor at any moment, and long since devoid of the energy needed to keep it upright. The bullet caught the left edge of its skull, digging just about deep enough to bring it down, the clatter of bones and limbs only barely audible over the sound of the Toyota’s engine and the roaring AK. The screams of excitement from Donald though, were more than loud enough to carry over both.

  Over the next few minutes Donald slowly worked his way through what John counted out to be at least twenty rounds. Each shot was taken with as much precision as Donald could muster from a slow moving vehicle, and before long he’d managed to bring down a grand total of eleven undead. One even had the audacity to attempt standing up after the first time it was put down, but was promptly finished off with a second blow to the head. Eventually even Donald decided enough was enough, and so slid back into his seat, weapon in hand, a huge smile laid across his face.

  “You about done now?”, John asked, himself struggling to hold back his excitement at the antics he had just witnessed.

  “Almost”, Donald replied, as he looked ahead to what appeared to be the final set of vehicles in this stretch of traffic, a lone biter walking directly towards them from behind the confides of the many abandoned wrecks, “Got one last thing to try first though”, he added, flicking the AK into fully automatic mode.

  John knew exactly what was needed, and so he rounded the final blockade of vehicles, before skidding the truck round to the left, putting Donald just a few feet away from the biter, who was still walking hopefully towards them, arms outstretched, certain it was about to feast.

  Donald leant out of the truck once more, raising the AK just enough to point it slightly under the crotch of the target, his finger poised carefully over the trigger and his arms tensed tightly around the weapons body.

  “BYE BYE!!”, Donald yelled, as that same sickening smile spread yet further across his face.

  The first bullet left the rifle almost in parallel to the words, its trajectory sending it right in-between the feet of the biter, exactly where it had been directed. This time however, Donald’s trigger finger remained firmly pressed down, sending a rapid barrage of ten bullets erupting out of the AK within just a few seconds. Thanks to the gun’s speed of fire, the weapon began lunging upwards with each shot, the kickback pummelling Donald’s shoulder each time, raising the muzzle higher and higher. The result, which John was certain Donald had very much intended, was a line of annihilation drawn straight up the centre of the biter, the second shot making contact with its groin, and each of the following blasts heading right up the body, until the final round dug deep into the creature’s forehead.

  The now truly lifeless body fired backwards, the force of so many shots making contact so quickly proving more than enough to knock it clean off of its wilted legs. Its body was almost split in two, various insides now spilling out onto the road around it, well and truly marking the spot of its death, and making for a horrific warning sign to anybody else following behind the pair.

  “NOW I’m done”, Donald yelled excitedly, following it quickly with a series of enthusiastic yelps.

  John simply looked on at the road ahead – the adrenaline from what had just happened running strong throughout his body – before putting his foot to the floor, and once again moving on, the truck’s wheels excitedly propelling them towards the Lake Wisconsin Bridge, the same bridge that marked the start of their entrance, into Madison.

  Chapter 25: Madison

  As they began to cross the Lake Wisconsin Bridge, the highway ahead came quickly into view. To both men’s surprise, each of the various stretches of the I94 within sight appeared relatively clear, only the odd pile up – each of which looked entirely passable – catching the eye. Seeing this, John happily put an estimated arrival time into Madison of no more than a couple of hours, and even that was relatively conservative given the conditions.

  Over th
e course of those next two hours, John’s hopes for a family reunion began to grow, each successfully navigated blockade topping up his excitement, as every passing metre brought him closer to a point he’d previously thought he might never reach. It was a tantalising situation, and one that led to John repeatedly finding himself smiling absent-mindedly, keen not to give away just how important their destination was to him, but unable to control his enthusiasm for much longer. Eventually, after rounding what was arguably the biggest roadblock on the remaining route – and one that sat just a few miles outside of Madison – John couldn’t help but positively glow at just how close they were to their final stop-off.

  “You been here before?”, John asked, noting that his companion was also beginning to take notice of the nearing city outskirts.

  “Yeah a couple times”, Donald replied. “We’ll head right down to the centre, it’ll take a couple hours but we’ll get to all the good stuff, gun stores, supermarkets, gas stations, the works, one final big score”, he explained.

  “Alright”, John replied, suddenly annoyed that Donald hadn’t mentioned just how long it would take to get to the particular part of Madison Donald wished to go to.

  But still John remained happy, knowing that this would at least be the final time they’d stop for any reason other than John’s family.

  “Keep to the highway till you see the signs for South Madison, that’ll take us along a nice row of stuff on the way there, keep your eyes peeled and we might just stock up and get out of here early”, Donald added, having noted John’s visibly disappointed reaction to hearing about the additional travel time.

  “Yeah, early”, John replied sarcastically.

  * * *

  After a little over ninety minutes or so – a tiny amount of time in this new world – John caught sight of his first “South Madison” sign, and prepared himself for whatever surprises the city had in store for them, steering the Hilux over to the side of the road in preparation for the off ramp. It was clear that Madison was big, its borders reaching far out in all directions and cut off in parts only by a large lake. But thankfully for the pair, all of its sections appeared well connected by wide, uncongested roads, something that became quickly apparent, as the truck left the highway, and curled round to one of the first inner Madison freeways. It was a huge four lane mass of tarmac that was almost completely empty on their side – and completely full on the other – making for what was easily one of the eeriest sights John had seen so far.

  “This… this is insane”, John said softly, almost unable to describe what lay in front of him.

  The road stretched for miles into Madison, the end obscured only by its disappearance around the grounds curvature, making for an incredible illusion of never-ending grey, dully illuminated by the cloudy skies above. On the other side however, literally thousands of vehicles lined every lane, filling every piece of available space, almost all of them bumper to bumper, and many showing signs of pretty serious collisions. Clearly the evacuation of Madison had not gone well, so few able to escape by vehicle and yet so many having tried, something that John knew meant only one thing.

  “This city… it must be-“.

  “Absolutely crawling with them? You bet!”, Donald replied before John could finish.

  John simply stared at the traffic as they slowly passed by each car, occasionally glimpsing a deceased occupant trapped inside, each bearing signs of being victim to fiercer and fiercer attacks the further into the city they drove.

  “Why would you pick here? Of all the places?”, John asked.

  “More biters means less people, less people means less looters, less looters makes for one hell of a score!”, Donald explained enthusiastically.

  “Yeah, and one hell of a dangerous place to try and loot”, John said, still gobsmacked at his surroundings, forcing himself to look back to the road in front.

  “No pain no gain Parker, surely you of all people know that?”, Donald asked, “There’s a couple gas stations up ahead if I remember rightly, might as well stock up”, he added.

  “Fine”, John said dismissively, speeding up slightly as he did, keen to spend as little time in Madison as possible.

  What followed was an awkward silence, John trying to silently convey his disapproval at their current plan, and Donald busily eyeing up the many potential looting spots. Before long though, Donald spoke.

  “You smell smoke?”, he asked.

  Sure enough, just a few hundred yards ahead, smoke billowed profusely from an area on the left of the road, the low wind enough to blow it clear of the tarmac and have it instead drift off towards the Southern depths of the city.

  “What in the hell is… was, that?”, Donald asked.

  “It looks like…”, John squinted as he drove slowly closer, his vision just about picking out the faint yellow symbol of a shell on the buildings logo. “A gas station”, he said disappointedly.

  “Oh you gotta’ be kidding me”, Donald replied, his own vision now coming to terms with what lay ahead.

  “And it must have been done pretty recently, it’s still going strong”, John added, the flames – dwindling but nevertheless still very much burning – indicating that the fire had been started no more than a day or so earlier.

  As the pair drove closer, John now having slowed the truck to a steady crawl, more and more details became apparent. Debris had reigned down around the remains of the gas station, the earth all around the area scorched a deathly black, and the vehicles that lined the edge of the premises riddled with what appeared to be bullet holes. All of it pointed to the scene of an explosion, and one that had not been started accidentally.

  “I see bodies”, John said as he surveyed the area, “And they don’t look like they went down from an infection”, he added, as the nearest body came into view, a large male, whose body was littered with what looked like nearly twenty or thirty gun-inflicted wounds.

  Suddenly the scene became much clearer. A firefight had taken place, and recently at that judging by the flesh of the bodies, yet to have been picked clean by the nearby roamers.

  “Looks like it’s the same over the road”, John added, nodding towards the other side of the freeway where another charred gas station stood, this one apparently burnt long enough ago to now be fully put out, but itself also littered with bodies, bullets and burn marks, all combining to make for a horrific sight.

  “What in the hell happened here”, Donald asked rhetorically, as he attempted to make sense of the situation.

  “Something bad, and something that makes me not want to stick around”, John replied as he swung his attention back to the road.

  “Whoah whoah, there might be good stuff left behind!”, Donald said flimsily, only half believing himself that there might be.

  “Yeah? You go back and get it then, I’m not going near that place, not now anyway”, John replied, “And I don’t feel great about being in Madison at all after seeing that”, he added.

  “Relax, we’re on the outskirts, people probably just travelled through this bit and got into a fight, be fine once we’re further in you’ll see”, Donald said, sounding a little more sure, but still not completely convinced of his own words.

  “Fine”, John said begrudgingly, moving the truck further along the road into Madison, his eyes darting from side to side, ready to take note of anything that might indicate the presence of anybody that had survived the attack, though he spotted nothing.

  Further along the road, various hardware stores and restaurants lined both sides, their huge brand names that once carried so much weight, now as worthless and irrelevant as the visibly ransacked buildings they hung themselves above. Rare was it that a window could be seen unbroken, or a door not kicked in, both clear indications that these had been the first places to have lost their possessions, and that they now made for little more than a series of unfortunate eyesores on the side of a derelict road. Occasionally the odd building came into sight that looked perhaps less scathed, showing off
maybe two or three potentially undamaged entrances. Each such occurrence prompted Donald to look inquisitively over, as if inspecting whether or not they were worth a run at, but John was quick to respond, accelerating each time further along the road, his actions speaking louder than any words he could think of to deny Donald the unscheduled stop-off.

  Eventually however, Donald saw his next destination long enough in advance to signal for John to slow down, as a somehow still illuminated sign caught both men’s eyes.

  “Hey John, maybe you’ll get a discount”, Donald laughed, as the writing became clearer. It was a typical, jargon filled and tremendously meaningless offer, a “reduced rate” available only to “Members of the armed services”, in what was clearly only ever a marketing tactic, rather than any kind of actual heartfelt effort at giving back. Nevertheless, John too was brought to a chuckle at the sight of it, and just how much less it meant now that the armed forces had long since been defeated. The building itself was a multi-story hotel, sprawling out reasonably far back away from the road, with a large car park surrounding the building on every side. A grand entrance cut into the middle of the lowest floor, its huge panes of floor to ceiling glass reflecting every ounce of light it could pick up.

  “Bet there’s some nice loot in there, that many rooms on that many floors”, Donald said, his finger drawing a line up the side of the concrete while he spoke, counting the six floors he could see in front.

  “Bet there’s about a hundred biters for every floor too”, John said dismissively.

  “For God sake John, no pain no gain, remember? Let’s get in there and clear out a couple rooms, if it’s a bust or if there’s too many, we come back out and we head on”, Donald started, “And if it aint, we get a good vantage point on that gas station next door, from one of the higher floors”, he added.

  John looked over to see Donald pointing to the large fuel station, seemingly unburnt and devoid of any noticeable chaos, unlike its predecessors.