Downfall

by Michael S. Gardner

  “We should never have come here in the first place.” Cole looked to the elevator’s ceiling and exhaled, growing tired of the world’s grudge against him and the others.

  “Not the time for it,” Matt said.

  “I just—”

  Matt grabbed Cole’s shoulder. “You’re damned if you do and damned if you don’t. It’s not like we were risking our necks for people who weren’t worth saving. John wasn’t—”

  “Bruce?”

  “Yeah.” Matt shook away the memory of Bruce’s corpse lying before him and his girlfriend being eaten alive.

  The doors opened, and Matt grabbed one of the toolboxes on the floor and set it so the elevator couldn’t close, mimicking what had once been a sick, humorous sight. Now, though, it was only another marker letting the zombies know where shop was open. Every attempt at closing was met with the rattling of loose metal parts.

  “We’ll wait for them to come down here.” Matt walked up to the side of the open basement door, holstered his pistol, and unsheathed his sword. He peered through and caught a glimpse of a corpse running up the stairs. He could hear their footfalls above and followed them to the elevator doors.

  Something that Matt could only describe as a cackling, wheezing sound echoed down to the basement.

  “What the hell is that?” he said as the noises continued. He turned to Cole. “Are they… communicating?”

  Cole shook his head and looked above. “Man, what hell is going on here?”

  Matt hesitated, feeling his stomach go light. “I think the virus, or whatever it is, is mutating them… again. That’s the—”

  The floor above Cole creaked.

  “Maybe that could explain what that thing was back at the gas station the other day,” Cole offered with an eerie calmness in his voice.

  “All the more reason we need to kill those guys and any that we ever see again.”

  Cole set his eyes to the entry and nodded.

  “Get ready,” Matt said and turned to the stairwell. Whistling, he called out, “Lunch is down here, deadbeats! Come and get it while—”

  There was a snarl and a crash, and then one of the runners was around the corner, staring right at Matt. This one moved with a grace he hadn’t seen before. The thing tilted its head from left to right, as if sizing up its prey. A second zombie lurched into view, moving with a noticeable limp. Matt felt his stomach churn and his heart rate pick up. By his guess, they were easily over six foot tall. Neither runner was scrawny nor frail; it looked like they were growing out of their bodies. Death, it appeared, had heightened their attributes. But that couldn’t be, could it? None of the zombies they’d encountered before were mutated like that. Except…

  That thing back at the gas station. Matt shuddered. He wasn’t a man of science, but he knew that dead things, their cells and DNA and whatnot, didn’t grow. They couldn’t! Matt scowled. Says the man looking at two hungry zombies…

  The runner to the right growled, releasing yellow-brown liquid over its chin that dripped to the floor like ooze in a comic book—the kind that either horribly disfigures or bestows uncanny abilities. This ooze was probably of the former variety.

  “Matt,” Cole called from behind. “Get out of the way.”

  Matt shook his head and realized he’d fallen into some sort of trance, a thousand-yard stare of sorts. Everything moved slower, more pronounced.

  The first zombie, with eyes glazed like some rotted dessert cake, began a motion that would inevitably send it hurtling forward.

  Matt blinked.

  It leaped onto the couch with surprising dexterity—enough to maintain a steady balance. Its partner jumped down, mouth foaming, hands balled into fists.

  Matt dove back from the towering stack of rot, as sure as he could be that the one in the stairwell lay in wait like a spider.

  Clever zombies, he thought.

  The zombie let out another bark, and the entry to the basement suddenly gave birth to the second one.

  Cole, still in front of the elevator, aimed at the thing in front of Matt and pleaded for him to move away.

  Matt backed up as he traded stares with the pair of rotting monstrosities. Jesus, he thought, these two could have been pro wrestlers.

  “Cole!”

  His friend fired two consecutive shots, heedless of the attention they’d bring from wandering creepers outside. Both bullets hit their mark, and a moment later the undefeated tag team of Rot and Ruin lay sprawled about the basement floor, defeated. Instead of celebrating, the new champs were busy putting their minds on something other than the ringing in their ears.

  “Was it me, or did those two just speak to each other?” Cole walked over to the slain and looked them over up close.

  “I’d say so,” Matt answered, willing his heart rate to slow down. Together, he and Cole stood over the executed zombies.

  Each was tall, arms thick and strong. Their legs were like small trees, hardened and sappy with thick blood, and when Cole went to give one of those monstrous limbs a nudge, he had little success. Something was indeed odd about these two. Two out of at least thousands they’d seen, two out of all the creepers and runners and screamers—and even that big thing from the other day—with outstanding traits only seasoned predators possessed. These two were lions in a decaying jungle, fierce and highly motivated. Only Cole’s bullets had managed to tame them.

  Seeing his friend struggle to move one of those thing’s legs disturbed Matt greatly. These zombies carried more weight than they needed to. Much more. It didn’t help his paranoia that this pair was dressed in digital fatigues. Each had a name patch and he didn’t have to think too hard to know that could mean trouble.

  “Help me out,” he said.

  With great effort, he and Cole cut through neck muscle and bone, decapitating the massive corpses and piercing brains through vacant eyes.

  “Why are we doing this?” Cole asked with a heavy breath, admiring the fact they were actually able to complete the task. Some small voice from a darkened corner in his mind had kept telling him that it was impossible, that they couldn’t do it—that these things were nearly infallible. Well, the proof was in the pudding, as they say, and the pudding was now headless.

  “I don’t know,” Matt answered. “It just felt like that was the thing to do.”

  “No arguing with you there, man. For all I know, they could’ve gotten back up.”

  “Come on,” Matt said, looking up into the empty stairwell, “let’s get the hell out of Dodge before more show up.”

  “It’s like we’re always agreeing,” Cole said dryly.

  Ten minutes later, with the van packed full of gear, the pair said their final farewell to the Robinson family. Both were aware of Dana’s missing corpse, which was probably out roaming the neighborhood, yet they knew it couldn’t be helped—at least not now.

  The screamer had disappeared too, another fact each made sure not to forget. Matt was getting the feeling that their house wasn’t as safe as they thought it had been just days earlier. Inside, he was berating himself for even attempting the rescue. It had all been for naught, as far as he was concerned. In fact, there were at least two zombies out there, one being the screamer, which was most definitely watching for them. It had their scent, or whatever the hell it was that drew them out. A small part of Matt hoped that the thing found another survivor or something to distract it.

  “To the Robinsons,” Matt said, watching in the rearview mirror as the house disappeared.

  “Cheers.” Cole lit a joint and settled into his seat. He sighed and cracked his window.

  Matt looked over. “Something bothering you? I mean, other than the obvious?”

  “Just getting tired of the odds, my friend.”

  CHAPTER 10

  “Where’s Anna?” Matt asked as he sat down to the dinner table. He felt refreshed after taking a shower, like new. He looked over to Alex and motioned for the parmesan cheese as Mary set a plate of steaming hot spaghetti that made h
is stomach grumble in front of him.

  “She’s been upstairs all day,” Mary answered with a sigh as she took her seat. “I doubt she’ll be joining us.”

  “Is she sick or something?” Matt inquired, shaking the grated cheese over his plate.

  Mary shook her head. “We tried to get her to come out several times while you two were gone, but she just shooed us away. I could have sworn I heard her crying.”

  “Me too.” Alex lowered his eyes.

  “Well, she did just lose her husband,” Cole offered. “Not to mention what happened earlier. I’m sure she’s a bit overwhelmed.”

  Kristin twirled some spaghetti on her fork. “I’ll check on her after dinner. Maybe see if she wants a plate.”

  “Sounds good.” Matt wolfed down a forkful of noodles. “How are we looking on supplies?”

  Kristin finished her mouthful before answering. “We could possibly have enough food for a month, give or take a few days, but that’s pushing it. And it sure as hell won’t be enough to get us through winter.”

  “You can say that again,” Alex said, making sure he was part of the conversation.

  “As far as meds,” Kristin continued, “we only have some generic aspirin and cold medicine. Nothing else. No vitamins either. This Bruce fella you guys got this house from wasn’t the keenest when it came to preparation or survival.”

  Matt smiled sinfully as he twirled some more noodles on his fork. Cole and Mary exchanged an awkward glance.

  Kristin sipped at her mixed drink and continued. “We’ll need to acquire quite the lot of supplies if we’re going to overwinter in this place.”

  “Hopefully the snow will slow those bastards down,” Mary said, swallowing a mouthful of noodles and raising her cup.

  “I certainly hope so,” Matt agreed and toasted. “It’d be nice to catch a break.”

  “For once,” Cole quipped.

  “What do you mean?” Kristin asked, and when Cole averted his eyes, she probed further. “Were there more over at the Robinsons’?”

  “Yeah,” Cole muttered. “We ran into a few.”

  “How many?” Mary asked.

  “Two,” Matt answered.

  “Sounds relatively uneventful compared to the last few days, eh?” Mary said.

  “Not in the slightest.” Matt finished his meal, drank the last of the milk in his glass, and continued. “It seems that this virus is making a few of those things stronger and smarter, not like the runners we’ve come across. Or the screamers.”

  “How so?” Everyone could hear the fright in Alex’s voice.

  “You ever see Jurassic Park?” Matt asked.

  Alex nodded.

  “Remember the velociraptors? The guy had one of their claws on his necklace or something?”

  Alex nodded again, looking to Cole and then back to Matt.

  “Well, these two kinda reminded me of them. It was like they strategized, and they weren’t your average-sized zombie, either. They were tall and fit, and it looked like they could punch through a wall or something. We’re lucky there were only two of them. If there were more…”

  “They were soldiers, Matt,” Cole said, “or at least they were dressed like it.”

  “You know,” Mary set her glass down, “aren’t most of those screamers dressed like soldiers.”

  Cole shrugged.

  “Maybe they were born in a lab, where scientists gave them all sorts of shots and stuff,” Alex said thoughtfully.

  The room went eerily silent for a moment.

  “Let’s hope not,” Kristin finally said, reaching for her drink.

  Matt picked up his empty plate and took it to the sink. “How are we looking on ammunition?”

  Mary pushed out her chair and made for the hutch next to the stove. She grabbed a notebook and handed it to Matt as she sat down. “I didn’t bother listing all the guns. Figured the ammo was more important.”

  AMMO SHEET:

  9mm JHP — 3 full boxes

  9mm FM J — just over 5 boxes

  .40 JHP — 2 ½ boxes

  .40 FMJ — 5 rounds

  .357 MAGNUM — 7 full boxes (no gun for these)

  .357 SIG — 12 full boxes (no gun for these)

  .45 JHP — Almost 10 boxes

  .38 SPECIAL — 7 full boxes

  .12 gauge game shots — (3) 100-round boxes

  .12 gauge slugs — 24 rounds

  .12 gauge buckshot — 20 rounds

  .20 gauge (any) — none (the Remington is useless)

  .22 LR — (13) 500-round bricks, some opened, some not

  .223 — (33) 20-round boxes (nothing to use these with)

  .30.06 — (13) 20-round boxes

  7.62X39mm — (76) 20-round boxes (nothing to use these with)

  “We could really use some assault rifles,” Mary said.

  “Yeah, how come we don’t have any of those?” asked Alex.

  “They would come in handy,” Kristin added.

  Matt gritted his teeth. He’d never even seen the woman touch a gun. In fact, other than her attitude, the only thing he did know about her was that she was a hell of a runner. Who the hell was she to say anything about firearms?

  “We’ve only run across a few since all this shit happened,” Cole said. “And those were caked in…” He looked down to his plate and grimaced. “Let’s just say they weren’t good candidates, okay?”

  Kristin craned her head. “You never thought to go to a gun store or anything?”

  Matt chuckled and rested his elbows on the table, crossing his fingers. “Only one we came across was looted dry.”

  “You haven’t tried any other?”

  “Unless if you know of one around here,” Cole picked up, “the only others are in Hampton.”

  “What about pawn shops?” Mary asked.

  “Looted,” both Matt and Cole answered in unison.

  Kristin shook her head and took a sip of her drink. “This is ridiculous,” she grumbled.

  “Excuse me?” Matt let his hands fall to the table and leaned in, noticing that Kristin was avoiding eye contact. “What exactly is ridiculous, Kristin?”

  Pursing her lips, she took a deep breath. “I can’t even count on two hands how many of those things I’ve seen out there. I mean, between the police and soldiers, there should be enough for the picking.”

  “Your point?” Matt asked, the others looking from him to Kristin.

  “If you looked harder while you were out there, I’m sure you’ll find quite a few.”

  “You ever see a dead body up close?” Matt said.

  Kristin pursed her lips.

  “It ain’t a pretty sight.”

  “You know what ain’t a pretty sight, Matt?” Before he could answer, she continued. “The whole damn world. And instead of just staying back, scavenging these houses ‘round here, you two,” she motioned to him and Cole, “take the kid and go out to the highway.”

  “I’m not a—”

  Matt motioned for Alex to be quiet.

  “Again, Kristin: What’s your point? We’ve already gone over this.” Matt rapped his fingers on the table and nodded to Cole. “It’s us goin’ out there, not you.”

  “And what have you brought back so far, huh?”

  Cole said, “Look at your plate.”

  “I’m lookin’ at my plate, Cole, and I’m seeing food that every damn house around here will have.”

  Kicking his chair back, Matt stood. “What the fuck makes you think we don’t know that, huh?” He walked over and snatched the rum atop the fridge. “What if we come across more survivors in winter? You know, when we can’t drive around ‘cause the fuckin’ city maintenance crew is too busy shambling around out there?” Taking a swig, he winced as the fluid burned its way down. “What will we do then?”

  “And what are the odds of that happening?” Kristin asked.

  “Probably about the same as the dead rising,” Mary answered.

  “Oh,” Kristin said. “You mean like the dead tha
t attacked us the other night? Those dead? You know, you probably led them back here.”

  “Yeah, that’s our fault.” Matt took another swig and returned to his seat. “I completely forgot that this was a dead-free zone. ‘Free of infection,’ is what the sign read, right, Cole?”

  Alex sniggered.

  Kristin’s face went red.

  “Look, if you want a damn assault rifle, we’ll find you one.” Matt reached across the table and set the rum in front of Kristin. “Even if it means stealing one off a dead soldier. We got trash bags.”

  Kristin unscrewed the cap as she said, “That’s not the point.”

  “Then what is your point?” Mary asked.

  “I just…” She sighed and downed a heavy mouthful of rum. Her entire body jerked as she swallowed, and she exhaled with a soft burp. “Look, I like it out here. I like you guys. Before…” She looked around the room and lowered her head. “Before I met you, I was in Hell.” She looked over to Alex, a thoughtful expression on her face and then down to the table again. “I had to do things to ensure my safety. Here, it’s not like that. Not until a few days ago…” she looked to Matt, “a day after you came back from your raid.”

  “Kristin,” Mary said. “Everything—”

  “I lost my boyfriend on the first day,” Kristin said.

  Matt and Cole exchanged glares.

  “I’m so sorry,” Mary said, grabbing the woman’s hand from across the table.

  “He died because I needed my phone—when I knew I didn’t. Some asshole bit him in the neck on our way back to the apartment.” She sniffled. “This was before we knew what the bites did to you. Before we knew those people out there were really dead. Four hours later he was gone.” She looked right at Matt, tears welling, face moist, and said, “I killed him with a gun I picked up from a dead cop. Shot him right in the face.”

  Matt let out a sigh, remembering the agonizing look on Shelley’s face just before he took a shot at her head—and missed.

  “I just… I just don’t see the need for you two to go out there. If anything, you could just go to another neighborhood, right? Somewhere that’s secluded?”

  Retrieving the bottle, Matt took another swig. Alex eyed him with curiosity. Mary and Cole glanced at one another.