Wormwood Dawn (Episode IV)
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Dan and Jake both reloaded, finishing just as the dozen or so Shamblers impacted the fence. They both fired, taking down a few of them as they thrust their claws through the fence. Their growls and groans were deafening; adding to the cacophony that was erupting behind the steel door that Dan held shut.
“Drew,” Dan said frantically, tossing him the keys to the Hummer. “The Hummer is on the third floor of the garage, in the maintenance shed.”
Drew nodded, stuffing the keys in his pocket. “I’ll be back,” he said, mounting the fence.
Dan fired more rounds at the horde that threatened to burst through the fence, his back still to the door. He blasted them with single rounds, aiming for the head, splattering their disgusting brains on the ones behind them. But no matter how many fell, others were there to take their place.
Jake sat down on a cinder block; seemingly defeated.
“What are you doing?” Dan said. “Let’s go!”
Jake shook his head. “I’m done for, brutha.”
Dan stepped away from the door, ignoring the banging and thumping on the other side. “What are you talking about?” he asked. “Drew will be back soon, and we can get out of here. On your feet, son.”
He reached out to pull Jake to his feet, but the big guy shoved him back.
“What the fuck, Jake?”
Jake reached up to his neck, pulling away the neckline of his shirt. There, right above his collarbone, was a gash. Dan had seen blood there earlier, but had thought it was the blood of one of Jake’s victims. It was, apparently, his own.
“I took one back there in the courtyard,” Jake said.
Dan’s heart sank. He stepped forward slowly, glaring at the wound as his breathing quickened. It was festering and black; leaking some strange fluid that pooled in the lower spots.
“Jake…” Dan whispered.
Jake reached into his pack, pulling out the Apocalypse Compendium. He held it in his hand, staring at it like it was his child. Then, he handed it to Dan.
“Take it,” Jake said. “Add to it. Learn from it. Pass it on.”
“I’m not leaving you here,” Dan said, shaking his head in protest. “No fucking way.”
Jake pointed at the Shamblers that threatened to tear the fence down. Some of them were beginning to climb, hungrily determined to get to them and devour them.
“Not much of a choice, brutha,” Jake said.
He reached into his pack, producing a red can. An incendiary grenade. “It’s amazing what you find when you go places you’re not supposed to,” he said, flicking the pin out with his thumb.
“Jake!” Dan shouted.
“Fuckin’ go!”
Dan backed away, stuffing the white binder into his pack. Jake sat with his head hanging low, the grenade held tightly in his hand.
“Be safe, brutha,” Jake said. “See you in Hell.”
The steel door burst open just then. Dan turned and grabbed the fence, leaping upward to climb over. Without looking back, he swung his legs over the top and dropped to the ground, sprinting away as fast as he could. Behind him, an explosion rocked the buildings, sending shrapnel in his direction. He was nearly knocked forward by the concussion wave, but kept his footing and ran madly toward the end of the alley.
His heart was killing him. Not because of the exertion, but because of his friend. He blindly raced toward the parking garage, ignoring the inner pain. He felt his throat tighten, and the tears welling up in his eyes. He screamed at the top of his lungs, releasing his rage into the sky. He was tormented; defeated.
Jake was gone.
The Hummer raced down the last ramp. Dan heard it as he sat with his head in his hands. He didn’t even look up from the pool of tears that had gathered on the concrete below. There was no point. Drew would see him.
The tires squealed as Drew slammed on the brakes right in front of him. “Dude,” Drew said. “Where’s Jake?”
Dan simply shook his head, still not budging. Drew was silent, too.
“He’s gone,” Dan said. “It’s just the two of us again.”
He finally looked up. Drew’s face was morose and angry at the same time. His lips were pursed, and he stared straight ahead. Dan stood, slowly walking around the front of the Hummer and hopping into the passenger seat.
Drew released the brakes, pulling onto the street. Dan could see him from the corner of his eyes, staring at him with that same look.
“Let’s get the fuck out of this city,” Dan said. “I’m done with it.”
Drew nodded, steering around the rubble. They drove in silence, slowly making their way through the streets in a morbid, forlorn cruise that seemed almost ethereal. Dan’s mind was blank. He couldn’t think. He never thought someone’s death would have such an impact on him. He had only known Jake for a short time, but their friendship was strengthened by everything that had happened in that week or so at the house.
He had learned a lot from Jake; not only some skills, but how to “give a little bit of a shit about things,” as Jake had put it. That was a good lesson. It was one that his own father had tried to teach him on several occasions, but it was Jake who finally pounded it into his brain.
Jake was a good friend. But now he was gone.
Dan would miss him.
“We need to figure out what direction to go,” Drew said, snapping Dan out of his haze.
“Is there anywhere you want to go?” Dan asked.
Drew shook his head. “Not really,” he said. “But we should probably go south. Winter is coming, and neither one of us is any good at chopping wood.”
“37, then?”
Drew pursed his lips, nodding his head. “Sounds good.”
Dan stared out the window toward the university complex. Smoke billowed upward, and choppers were beginning to gather to take away the civilians. Where the military was taking them was anyone’s guess, but Dan had no desire to go there. He and Drew would be better off on their own, he knew. Drew knew it, too.
They were two lone wolves, rebellious and pissed off. They wouldn’t fit in anywhere but out there in the wild.
They were cowboys of the apocalypse; Butch and Sundance with automatic weapons; Jolly Green Giants from Hell; two losers with nowhere to go.
And that’s the way they liked it.