![[info]](http://l-stat.livejournal.com/img/userinfo.gif){kind=small}
Huntingdon, Tennessee. United States.
Foolsfolly sat in the darkness of the abandoned barn, wrapped in a thin blanket that easily fit in his backpack. Resting at his side was an antique fire poker, which was currently his primary means of defence. So far it had proved itself reliable, however he understood it to be a relatively dangerous means to depend on. He held a shotgun in his left hand. This weapon, however, was more a curse than a blessing. While one might understand a shotgun to be the ultimate defence against an undead army, Foolsfolly found himself burdened by it. The gun held but a single shell: one shot; one choice; one chance. The idea frightened him more than any zombie ever could.
The barn carried a heavy silence, a welcome alternative to the terrible noises made by the undead savages that currently roamed the Earth. That noise was enough to drive a man into madness if exposed to it for too long. Fools revelled in his temporary peace.
Foolsfolly wanted nothing more than to lay his head back and sleep. He needed to be rested if he was be in a sharp state of mind for the day ahead of him, he had far to go. Sleep, however desirable it might have been, was out of the question. He dare not close his eyes, only to be taken in the night. So instead, he just sat in the darkness. He thought about the Family, and what they were going through at the moment. He thought about Geekers, and Baraxis, and then his thoughts trailed to the beginning of everything; the beginning of the zombie infestation.
Days Earlier
“Dude, we need to talk. There’s something going on, I don’t really know what or why... or anything, really. I just, don't know what to say... Fools, you have to warn the Family.”
Fools knew that voice, and he knew something was going on. Whatever it was, it was serious. He attempted to call back many times but there was no answer. On the final attempt he decided to leave a message.
“Geekers, it’s Fools. Listen, I, uh, got your message. I need you to call me back. What’s going on, some kinda movie idea? What do I need to warn the Family about? Whatever it is, I’m sure it’ll be fine, you just need to call me.”
Fools hung up the phone, and decided to do what he was asked to do: he would warn the Family, only he didn’t know what it was he was warning them about. But when he got online, he found someone had beaten him to the punch. The words on the screen carried the same intensity as the voice in the message.
“I just killed my parents.” Baraxis posted.
“Haha, what did they do?” SharpAsATack responded.
“They killed my little brother, and my sister... and then tried to kill me.”
A few moments later, Tack replied. “Wait, are you being serious? What the fuck, sir.”
“I know how this all sounds, but I can’t say it any other way. I don’t care if you guys can’t believe me, I know what I saw. They were zombies.”
However obscure, Fools knew at this point what it was Geekers wanted him to do. From the sound of Geek’s voice, it had to be something important, however, he still couldn't quite comprehend what was happening
“Baraxis, I think I believe you. Geekers left me a message telling me something was going on, asked me to warn the Family. What is happening?”
Fools waited for a response, refreshing the page every time it reloaded. He knew whatever it was that happened to Baraxis and Geekers both, it had taken its toll on them, physically and emotionally. He didn’t want to make the situation any harder for Baraxis by pressing him with questions, but at the same time, he needed answers.
“I don’t know exactly what is happening. I just know I woke up this afternoon and my entire family was trying to kill me. They were all horribly mutilated. They should have been dead, but instead they were bloodthirsty and trying to kill me.” Baraxis posted minutes later. “Their eyes... their hunger... they just attacked... and I killed them. I had to.”
“Baraxis, everything will be okay. I know this isn’t easy, but you don’t have to face this alone.” SpartanProto said, entering the conversation. “We will come up with a plan. Baraxis... I know you have lost a lot, but in losing all of that, you may have just saved all of our lives. From the sounds of things, this thing isn’t taking its time. It took Geekers and Baraxis in one single night. I put it on American soil in less than 24 hours. We have to act now, and we have to act smart.”
“Spartan is right.” Fools posted. “The only direction it really has to move is South. Fortunately for us, this is something that we have all planned for. None of us, however, ever dreamt it would ever be a reality.”
JediPoet responded immediately upon reading the conversation. “we need to warn the rset of the family memebrs.”
“Well, someone can send them all a message.” Tack posted.
“No, that would probably be a waste of time, we can just hope the Family members come here and read this conversation. Everything we say here will probably serve them better than a message. We can’t afford to not be taken seriously.” Fools wrote.
“what are we going to do we cant jsut outrun this thing. not to mention leave our families. we have to deal with this caerfuly. one mistake and thats it.” Poet replied.
The board suddenly fell silent. The gravity of the situation seemed to hit everyone at once. People were dying, and it was happening within the Family. Both Geekers and Baraxis fell victim to it, and both of which sought to warn the Comic Book Movie Family Mafia above all else. They lost everything in moments and without warning; everyone wanted to make sure their families didn’t die in vain.
“Fools, you said Geekers left you a message. What did he say?” Baraxis asked.
“He just said something was going on, and that I need to warn the Family. I have tried calling him, but he hasn't answered. So whatever happened to you Baraxis, we can almost be certain it happened to Geekers.”
“We need a plan, we have Family members spread all over the fucking place.” Tack exclaimed, as best he could with merely text. “We can’t just all venture out and hope to meet up somewhere.”
“No, but we can’t just wait around for shit to hit the fan before we make our move, either.” Spartan posted. “I have always planned on heading North. I realize that is where it coming from, but we can only go so far south. We can’t outrun it. The way I see it, our only hope is way the fuck north where the bastards can’t survive.”
“As much sense as that plan makes, you still have to pass right through the zombies and hope to survive.” Fools replied.
“its stupid to thnik we can get everyone together. we have people in australia, britain, venezuela, alaska, canada and who knows where esle.” Poet said.
“We could head into sparsely populated area and just hope that it misses us.” Tack suggested.
“We can’t afford to just hope, not on something like this. We can’t all go to this same place either.” Fools posted. “Some people just don’t have the same options as others. However, we don’t have to travel alone. Most everyone has someone within a few hours of travel. Based on our locations, we should all come up with different plans, and backup plans, and backup plans for those plans. We can’t afford to make a single mistake; no one gets left behind.”
“Unfortunately for me, I didn’t have the luxury of knowing this was coming. So while you all are planning on what to do, what do I do?” Baraxis asked. “Just wait for it to return? Thankfully I’m in a new subdivision, but there’s still a few others who live around here. I’m a sitting fucking duck.”
Fools tried to put himself in Baraxis’ position, but he couldn’t. He didn't know what it was Baraxis faced; no one did. He tried to understand, but the reality was he couldn’t.
“I will come to you Baraxis.” Spartan responded.
“That all sounds good, but it’s easier said than done. You might as well tie a steak around your neck.” Baraxis posted. “I don’t want you throwing your life away for the sake of coming up here to find me.”
“Now, I do have a van.” he continued. “I think the best thing for me right now is to look for Geekers, and save him from whatever shitty position he might currently be in. Though I guess we’ll get to that later.”
“He’s right Spartan.” Fools posted.
“hes right spartan. Edit: too late” Poet added.
“Well, I am not asking to do this, I am doing it regardless.” Spartan disputed. “My plan is to go North, and Baraxis just happens to be in that same direction. Not to mention I can meet up halfway with TigerX. We can get to Lake Michigan and commandeer a boat, and make our way to Canada. I can avoid the major cities.”
“I am with Spartan on this one. For one, we can’t just leave Geekers and Baraxis stranded in Canada. I think it is best that we all head north. Sure some of us have much farther to travel, but it beats any alternative. We can only go so far South before we hit the ocean or Mexican border.” Tack added.
“Holy Fuck! What is going on?” Jonixlord added as he entered the CBM forum.
“I really don’t see how anything needs to be explained. Seems straight forward enough.” ErokDragun stated as he too entered the thread. “I also have to side with Spartan. North is the best option. We can’t just set sail into the Ocean, and the borders to Mexico will be sealed. North seems to be the only choice.”
“Shit! I think I have company.. I will do my best to contact someone as soon as possible. If I make it through this, I will be sure to check in and update you guys. Good luck and god speed, sirs. Please... be careful.” Baraxis concluded. “Fools, I’ll need some direction once I get back, leave a comment.”
The board fell silent once again. Fools’ heart was pounding and his head felt like it had become weightless. At this very moment, Baraxis was quite possibly fighting for his life. Something that he too would soon be forced to do. He questioned his ability to fend off the attackers; once an easy concept to think about, but that was before the concept became a reality.
“We have to do something.” Fools posted. “So... North it is then?”
Present Day
Fools sat cold and alone in the darkness. He could see absolutely nothing, but took comfort in the fact that he could hear nothing either. Reaching down, he pushed the button on the side of his wristwatch, and it emitted a soft blue light, revealing the time to be 3:52am.
“Just a few more hours.” he thought to himself. Under normal circumstances, he would have just said it aloud, but he dare not disturb the silence. Fools tilted his head back to rest against the tin wall behind and looked up at the ceiling, though he could only assume it was there because it was so shrouded in darkness he could not actually see the ceiling. He fought the urge to close his eyes and pass into a deep sleep. Blinking his eyes for just a moment, Fools opened his eyes to reveal sunlight pouring into the barn. His lips were cracked, mouth was parched, and sweat was beading from his forehead.
“Fools, you fucking twit. What have you done?” He whispered to himself, before looking at his watch to find the time was 9:11am. “I could have done without that omen.”
Standing to his feet, Fools stretched the stretch of all stretches. He knelt down and began to place his belongings back into his bag. He looked at the shotgun for a few seconds before sliding it into the straps on the side of the bag, and pulled the pack over his shoulders. He finally picked up his fire poker before heading for the door, taking one last long breath of the stagnant barn air. Pulling the door slowly, Fools poked his head out slightly to get a better look of things.
“All clear.” He confirmed to himself, before stepping out into the open. Fools now found himself walking on what appeared to be a bike path in the middle of the woods. The woods themselves were not dense by any stretch, the trees were spread apart and the foliage on the ground was rather scarce.
As Fools continued to walk, he began to notice a thick fog was rolling in that hung low to ground. The ground beneath his feet was becoming increasingly soggy, and the slow, soft pitter-patter of rain could now be heard. “Just what I fucking need.” he thought to himself. Walking further along the trail, Fools stopped to survey his surroundings. Looking at a tree in the distance, Fools saw something that caught his attention.
“What the fuck?” He said as he walked warily to the tree for a closer look. Finally Fools came to an abrupt stop when he realized just what it was hanging from the tree. It was a body bag, and from the looks of it, it was not empty. Taking a few steps back from the tree, Fools began examine the other trees around him, noticing that many of them also held the same body bags hanging from nooses.
Fools stared at the body bags for minutes, unable to move. All at once, they began to shake, violently. From within the bags, a screaming that left Fools completely frozen. Those screams were human; alive. It was almost too much for him to bare. Looking at one of the trees, Fools considered that he could climb one of the trees and possibly save the person inside before they suffocated.
Fools climbed to the height of the body bag as quickly as he could. Climbing to the branch above, he reached the point on which the body bag was tied to the tree. Fools then began to furiously scramble to untie the rope. The body bag suddenly fell to the ground with a thud.
Quickly making his way back down to the fallen body bag, Fools noticed the shaking had stopped. All of the body bags had suddenly become still and silent. He was now standing above the body bag that he had freed from the noose, but was hesitant to open it. Pulling the zipper down he paused halfway when he thought he heard something behind him. Looking around he saw nothing, and finally returned his attention to the task at hand. As he pulled the zipper downward, the body bags in the surrounding trees all began to fall to the ground with various smacks, thuds, and splashes.
“What the fuck!” he screamed as he looked around at the fallen body bags, shrouded in the fog that hugged the ground and concealed them almost completely.
Turning back to face the bag in which he had unzipped, Fools suddenly found himself face to face with himself. The face staring at him was his own, only the eyes were horribly bloodshot and the face was pale. The being’s mouth was black, covered in a tar like substance that bubbled and dripped down its chin. As Fools made a move to scurry away as fast as he could, the creature grabbed a hold of his wrist and pulled him forward. He tried to resist, but it was futile. The creature then began to scream at the top of its lungs. The interior of its mouth pitch black, with sticky tar dripping from the teeth and spraying onto Fools’ face in the same fashion saliva would have had it been present. It then brought its mouth to Fools’ neck and sunk its teeth into his jugular. The former body bag occupant was ripping and tearing into Fools’ flesh. His blood quickly filling his mouth and lungs, Fools vision grew dim and fuzzy, until everything eventually turned black.
Covered in sweat, Fools jumped, coughing as he clasped his throat trying to gather air. “Oh fuck...When did I fall asleep?” he whispered to himself as he looked at his watch. It told him it was 5:47am. He was asleep for nearly two hours. “Two hours...That had better be enough.”
Fools was no stranger to strange dreams, but that one kicked the holy hell out of anything his mind had conjured up in recent months. He reached down and grasped the fire poker that was resting next to him. He gripped it tightly, and then concentrated to wake up and get his mind focused. In just a few hours the sun would begin to rise, and he would leave this barn and head North. He only hoped SharpAsATack was on schedule to meet him.
Richard Cotton AM
15 Talbot Crescent
Kooyong VIC 3144
Australia
Commander LCol Dave Rundle
CFB/ASU Petawawa Base HQ
Building S-111, 101 Menin Road
Canadian Forces Base Petawawa
Ontario, Canada K8H 2X3
RE: Human Variome Specimen Transportation.
Dear Commander Rundle.
I am writing to inform you that Subject 17-A is en route via container ship travelling across the Pacific. The shipping container will arrive in approximately one to two weeks at the Port of Vancouver, where the specimen will then be transported via semi-tractor trailer the remaining distance. From the time the package arrives in Vancouver to the time it arrives in Petawawa will be around two days time.
I greatly appreciate your assistance, and I think it will be beneficial for all of the parties involved. However, I must give you a few words of caution. Under no circumstances is the subject to be removed from his sedated state. The stasis chamber in which the subject has been sealed is only to be opened when he is to be administered the appropriate sedative, which will also be delivered with the specimen. Failure to administer the sedative on a regular schedule is ill advised. The subject is in a suspended state for the time being, however, the stasis chamber can only sustain the effects for a short period of time, I am sorry I cannot provide more suitable equipment, however we are under a strict deadline, and I have faith that you can more than handle the care of the subject for this period.
In response to your previous message, I cannot comment at this time. I am not at liberty to divulge too much information into the nature of the experiments, but what I can say is that much progress has been made in our department over the last few months. As you know, The Human Variome Project is studying a variation of genetics. Well, we are also deep in the study of the alteration of genetics, and are making leaps and bounds beyond many studies in years past.
Two subjects are kept here in Melbourne, and two others are being studied at the Centre For Arab Genomic Studies (CAGS) in Dubai. As I mentioned in my previous letter, we are preparing for an inspection in the coming weeks. One of our subjects, the one I have temporarily relocated to your facility, has been showing increased hostility, as well as other characteristics that we believe will draw unnecessary attention to what it is we are doing here. The second subject being held here is not as far advanced into the treatment as 17-A, so keeping him during the inspection will cause no harm.
I must again thank you for agreeing to look after 17-A for the time being. We are on the brink of realizing the the potential of human genetics, and you must realize that when the time comes and we make the breakthrough we are looking for, it will be because of the generosity of people like you who support our efforts. The breaking point will be just as much your victory as it is ours.
Sincerest regards,
Professor Richard Cotton
Foolsfolly sat in the darkness of the abandoned barn, wrapped in a thin blanket that easily fit in his backpack. Resting at his side was an antique fire poker, which was currently his primary means of defence. So far it had proved itself reliable, however he understood it to be a relatively dangerous means to depend on. He held a shotgun in his left hand. This weapon, however, was more a curse than a blessing. While one might understand a shotgun to be the ultimate defence against an undead army, Foolsfolly found himself burdened by it. The gun held but a single shell: one shot; one choice; one chance. The idea frightened him more than any zombie ever could.
The barn carried a heavy silence, a welcome alternative to the terrible noises made by the undead savages that currently roamed the Earth. That noise was enough to drive a man into madness if exposed to it for too long. Fools revelled in his temporary peace.
Foolsfolly wanted nothing more than to lay his head back and sleep. He needed to be rested if he was be in a sharp state of mind for the day ahead of him, he had far to go. Sleep, however desirable it might have been, was out of the question. He dare not close his eyes, only to be taken in the night. So instead, he just sat in the darkness. He thought about the Family, and what they were going through at the moment. He thought about Geekers, and Baraxis, and then his thoughts trailed to the beginning of everything; the beginning of the zombie infestation.
Days Earlier
“Dude, we need to talk. There’s something going on, I don’t really know what or why... or anything, really. I just, don't know what to say... Fools, you have to warn the Family.”
Fools knew that voice, and he knew something was going on. Whatever it was, it was serious. He attempted to call back many times but there was no answer. On the final attempt he decided to leave a message.
“Geekers, it’s Fools. Listen, I, uh, got your message. I need you to call me back. What’s going on, some kinda movie idea? What do I need to warn the Family about? Whatever it is, I’m sure it’ll be fine, you just need to call me.”
Fools hung up the phone, and decided to do what he was asked to do: he would warn the Family, only he didn’t know what it was he was warning them about. But when he got online, he found someone had beaten him to the punch. The words on the screen carried the same intensity as the voice in the message.
“I just killed my parents.” Baraxis posted.
“Haha, what did they do?” SharpAsATack responded.
“They killed my little brother, and my sister... and then tried to kill me.”
A few moments later, Tack replied. “Wait, are you being serious? What the fuck, sir.”
“I know how this all sounds, but I can’t say it any other way. I don’t care if you guys can’t believe me, I know what I saw. They were zombies.”
However obscure, Fools knew at this point what it was Geekers wanted him to do. From the sound of Geek’s voice, it had to be something important, however, he still couldn't quite comprehend what was happening
“Baraxis, I think I believe you. Geekers left me a message telling me something was going on, asked me to warn the Family. What is happening?”
Fools waited for a response, refreshing the page every time it reloaded. He knew whatever it was that happened to Baraxis and Geekers both, it had taken its toll on them, physically and emotionally. He didn’t want to make the situation any harder for Baraxis by pressing him with questions, but at the same time, he needed answers.
“I don’t know exactly what is happening. I just know I woke up this afternoon and my entire family was trying to kill me. They were all horribly mutilated. They should have been dead, but instead they were bloodthirsty and trying to kill me.” Baraxis posted minutes later. “Their eyes... their hunger... they just attacked... and I killed them. I had to.”
“Baraxis, everything will be okay. I know this isn’t easy, but you don’t have to face this alone.” SpartanProto said, entering the conversation. “We will come up with a plan. Baraxis... I know you have lost a lot, but in losing all of that, you may have just saved all of our lives. From the sounds of things, this thing isn’t taking its time. It took Geekers and Baraxis in one single night. I put it on American soil in less than 24 hours. We have to act now, and we have to act smart.”
“Spartan is right.” Fools posted. “The only direction it really has to move is South. Fortunately for us, this is something that we have all planned for. None of us, however, ever dreamt it would ever be a reality.”
JediPoet responded immediately upon reading the conversation. “we need to warn the rset of the family memebrs.”
“Well, someone can send them all a message.” Tack posted.
“No, that would probably be a waste of time, we can just hope the Family members come here and read this conversation. Everything we say here will probably serve them better than a message. We can’t afford to not be taken seriously.” Fools wrote.
“what are we going to do we cant jsut outrun this thing. not to mention leave our families. we have to deal with this caerfuly. one mistake and thats it.” Poet replied.
The board suddenly fell silent. The gravity of the situation seemed to hit everyone at once. People were dying, and it was happening within the Family. Both Geekers and Baraxis fell victim to it, and both of which sought to warn the Comic Book Movie Family Mafia above all else. They lost everything in moments and without warning; everyone wanted to make sure their families didn’t die in vain.
“Fools, you said Geekers left you a message. What did he say?” Baraxis asked.
“He just said something was going on, and that I need to warn the Family. I have tried calling him, but he hasn't answered. So whatever happened to you Baraxis, we can almost be certain it happened to Geekers.”
“We need a plan, we have Family members spread all over the fucking place.” Tack exclaimed, as best he could with merely text. “We can’t just all venture out and hope to meet up somewhere.”
“No, but we can’t just wait around for shit to hit the fan before we make our move, either.” Spartan posted. “I have always planned on heading North. I realize that is where it coming from, but we can only go so far south. We can’t outrun it. The way I see it, our only hope is way the fuck north where the bastards can’t survive.”
“As much sense as that plan makes, you still have to pass right through the zombies and hope to survive.” Fools replied.
“its stupid to thnik we can get everyone together. we have people in australia, britain, venezuela, alaska, canada and who knows where esle.” Poet said.
“We could head into sparsely populated area and just hope that it misses us.” Tack suggested.
“We can’t afford to just hope, not on something like this. We can’t all go to this same place either.” Fools posted. “Some people just don’t have the same options as others. However, we don’t have to travel alone. Most everyone has someone within a few hours of travel. Based on our locations, we should all come up with different plans, and backup plans, and backup plans for those plans. We can’t afford to make a single mistake; no one gets left behind.”
“Unfortunately for me, I didn’t have the luxury of knowing this was coming. So while you all are planning on what to do, what do I do?” Baraxis asked. “Just wait for it to return? Thankfully I’m in a new subdivision, but there’s still a few others who live around here. I’m a sitting fucking duck.”
Fools tried to put himself in Baraxis’ position, but he couldn’t. He didn't know what it was Baraxis faced; no one did. He tried to understand, but the reality was he couldn’t.
“I will come to you Baraxis.” Spartan responded.
“That all sounds good, but it’s easier said than done. You might as well tie a steak around your neck.” Baraxis posted. “I don’t want you throwing your life away for the sake of coming up here to find me.”
“Now, I do have a van.” he continued. “I think the best thing for me right now is to look for Geekers, and save him from whatever shitty position he might currently be in. Though I guess we’ll get to that later.”
“He’s right Spartan.” Fools posted.
“hes right spartan. Edit: too late” Poet added.
“Well, I am not asking to do this, I am doing it regardless.” Spartan disputed. “My plan is to go North, and Baraxis just happens to be in that same direction. Not to mention I can meet up halfway with TigerX. We can get to Lake Michigan and commandeer a boat, and make our way to Canada. I can avoid the major cities.”
“I am with Spartan on this one. For one, we can’t just leave Geekers and Baraxis stranded in Canada. I think it is best that we all head north. Sure some of us have much farther to travel, but it beats any alternative. We can only go so far South before we hit the ocean or Mexican border.” Tack added.
“Holy Fuck! What is going on?” Jonixlord added as he entered the CBM forum.
“I really don’t see how anything needs to be explained. Seems straight forward enough.” ErokDragun stated as he too entered the thread. “I also have to side with Spartan. North is the best option. We can’t just set sail into the Ocean, and the borders to Mexico will be sealed. North seems to be the only choice.”
“Shit! I think I have company.. I will do my best to contact someone as soon as possible. If I make it through this, I will be sure to check in and update you guys. Good luck and god speed, sirs. Please... be careful.” Baraxis concluded. “Fools, I’ll need some direction once I get back, leave a comment.”
The board fell silent once again. Fools’ heart was pounding and his head felt like it had become weightless. At this very moment, Baraxis was quite possibly fighting for his life. Something that he too would soon be forced to do. He questioned his ability to fend off the attackers; once an easy concept to think about, but that was before the concept became a reality.
“We have to do something.” Fools posted. “So... North it is then?”
Present Day
Fools sat cold and alone in the darkness. He could see absolutely nothing, but took comfort in the fact that he could hear nothing either. Reaching down, he pushed the button on the side of his wristwatch, and it emitted a soft blue light, revealing the time to be 3:52am.
“Just a few more hours.” he thought to himself. Under normal circumstances, he would have just said it aloud, but he dare not disturb the silence. Fools tilted his head back to rest against the tin wall behind and looked up at the ceiling, though he could only assume it was there because it was so shrouded in darkness he could not actually see the ceiling. He fought the urge to close his eyes and pass into a deep sleep. Blinking his eyes for just a moment, Fools opened his eyes to reveal sunlight pouring into the barn. His lips were cracked, mouth was parched, and sweat was beading from his forehead.
“Fools, you fucking twit. What have you done?” He whispered to himself, before looking at his watch to find the time was 9:11am. “I could have done without that omen.”
Standing to his feet, Fools stretched the stretch of all stretches. He knelt down and began to place his belongings back into his bag. He looked at the shotgun for a few seconds before sliding it into the straps on the side of the bag, and pulled the pack over his shoulders. He finally picked up his fire poker before heading for the door, taking one last long breath of the stagnant barn air. Pulling the door slowly, Fools poked his head out slightly to get a better look of things.
“All clear.” He confirmed to himself, before stepping out into the open. Fools now found himself walking on what appeared to be a bike path in the middle of the woods. The woods themselves were not dense by any stretch, the trees were spread apart and the foliage on the ground was rather scarce.
As Fools continued to walk, he began to notice a thick fog was rolling in that hung low to ground. The ground beneath his feet was becoming increasingly soggy, and the slow, soft pitter-patter of rain could now be heard. “Just what I fucking need.” he thought to himself. Walking further along the trail, Fools stopped to survey his surroundings. Looking at a tree in the distance, Fools saw something that caught his attention.
“What the fuck?” He said as he walked warily to the tree for a closer look. Finally Fools came to an abrupt stop when he realized just what it was hanging from the tree. It was a body bag, and from the looks of it, it was not empty. Taking a few steps back from the tree, Fools began examine the other trees around him, noticing that many of them also held the same body bags hanging from nooses.
Fools stared at the body bags for minutes, unable to move. All at once, they began to shake, violently. From within the bags, a screaming that left Fools completely frozen. Those screams were human; alive. It was almost too much for him to bare. Looking at one of the trees, Fools considered that he could climb one of the trees and possibly save the person inside before they suffocated.
Fools climbed to the height of the body bag as quickly as he could. Climbing to the branch above, he reached the point on which the body bag was tied to the tree. Fools then began to furiously scramble to untie the rope. The body bag suddenly fell to the ground with a thud.
Quickly making his way back down to the fallen body bag, Fools noticed the shaking had stopped. All of the body bags had suddenly become still and silent. He was now standing above the body bag that he had freed from the noose, but was hesitant to open it. Pulling the zipper down he paused halfway when he thought he heard something behind him. Looking around he saw nothing, and finally returned his attention to the task at hand. As he pulled the zipper downward, the body bags in the surrounding trees all began to fall to the ground with various smacks, thuds, and splashes.
“What the fuck!” he screamed as he looked around at the fallen body bags, shrouded in the fog that hugged the ground and concealed them almost completely.
Turning back to face the bag in which he had unzipped, Fools suddenly found himself face to face with himself. The face staring at him was his own, only the eyes were horribly bloodshot and the face was pale. The being’s mouth was black, covered in a tar like substance that bubbled and dripped down its chin. As Fools made a move to scurry away as fast as he could, the creature grabbed a hold of his wrist and pulled him forward. He tried to resist, but it was futile. The creature then began to scream at the top of its lungs. The interior of its mouth pitch black, with sticky tar dripping from the teeth and spraying onto Fools’ face in the same fashion saliva would have had it been present. It then brought its mouth to Fools’ neck and sunk its teeth into his jugular. The former body bag occupant was ripping and tearing into Fools’ flesh. His blood quickly filling his mouth and lungs, Fools vision grew dim and fuzzy, until everything eventually turned black.
Covered in sweat, Fools jumped, coughing as he clasped his throat trying to gather air. “Oh fuck...When did I fall asleep?” he whispered to himself as he looked at his watch. It told him it was 5:47am. He was asleep for nearly two hours. “Two hours...That had better be enough.”
Fools was no stranger to strange dreams, but that one kicked the holy hell out of anything his mind had conjured up in recent months. He reached down and grasped the fire poker that was resting next to him. He gripped it tightly, and then concentrated to wake up and get his mind focused. In just a few hours the sun would begin to rise, and he would leave this barn and head North. He only hoped SharpAsATack was on schedule to meet him.
Richard Cotton AM
15 Talbot Crescent
Kooyong VIC 3144
Australia
Commander LCol Dave Rundle
CFB/ASU Petawawa Base HQ
Building S-111, 101 Menin Road
Canadian Forces Base Petawawa
Ontario, Canada K8H 2X3
RE: Human Variome Specimen Transportation.
Dear Commander Rundle.
I am writing to inform you that Subject 17-A is en route via container ship travelling across the Pacific. The shipping container will arrive in approximately one to two weeks at the Port of Vancouver, where the specimen will then be transported via semi-tractor trailer the remaining distance. From the time the package arrives in Vancouver to the time it arrives in Petawawa will be around two days time.
I greatly appreciate your assistance, and I think it will be beneficial for all of the parties involved. However, I must give you a few words of caution. Under no circumstances is the subject to be removed from his sedated state. The stasis chamber in which the subject has been sealed is only to be opened when he is to be administered the appropriate sedative, which will also be delivered with the specimen. Failure to administer the sedative on a regular schedule is ill advised. The subject is in a suspended state for the time being, however, the stasis chamber can only sustain the effects for a short period of time, I am sorry I cannot provide more suitable equipment, however we are under a strict deadline, and I have faith that you can more than handle the care of the subject for this period.
In response to your previous message, I cannot comment at this time. I am not at liberty to divulge too much information into the nature of the experiments, but what I can say is that much progress has been made in our department over the last few months. As you know, The Human Variome Project is studying a variation of genetics. Well, we are also deep in the study of the alteration of genetics, and are making leaps and bounds beyond many studies in years past.
Two subjects are kept here in Melbourne, and two others are being studied at the Centre For Arab Genomic Studies (CAGS) in Dubai. As I mentioned in my previous letter, we are preparing for an inspection in the coming weeks. One of our subjects, the one I have temporarily relocated to your facility, has been showing increased hostility, as well as other characteristics that we believe will draw unnecessary attention to what it is we are doing here. The second subject being held here is not as far advanced into the treatment as 17-A, so keeping him during the inspection will cause no harm.
I must again thank you for agreeing to look after 17-A for the time being. We are on the brink of realizing the the potential of human genetics, and you must realize that when the time comes and we make the breakthrough we are looking for, it will be because of the generosity of people like you who support our efforts. The breaking point will be just as much your victory as it is ours.
Sincerest regards,
Professor Richard Cotton
Madison, Indiana. United States.
"Mom, we have to get out of here." SpartanProto said carrying essential items to his mother's Kia Sportage.
"Honey, I don't see why we have to just take off and leave everything here." his mother responded, following behind him with more items.
"What is so hard to understand about this: In a matter of hours, this place is going to be infested with zombies. I know it sounds like something out of a movie, but please trust me. We need to go, once it hits our chances of survival are damn near none."
"It just doesn't feel right leaving all of this behind, for something we can't even be sure is going to come here."
"Mom, please. We don't have time for this. Cincinnati is already gone, and it is coming this way." SpartanProto said, walking back inside to check on Cody, his brother.
Allergic to the sun since birth, Cody had a disease called Xeroderma Pigmentosum. It was a rare form of skin cancer, making his skin highly sensitive to any and all ultraviolet light. When going outside, or anywhere that is potentially unsafe, he is required to wear a special suit. A tinted visor covers his face so that he can see, and is surrounded by two layers of denim overtop of a skateboard helmet. The denim falls over the shoulders to conceal the neck, and a thick hoody-type shirt is worn over whatever shirt he wears. Thick denim pants safely conceal his legs, and tube socks must be worn for the ankles. Around his waist, he wears a breathing apparatus that was originally designed for painters, but slightly modified for his purpose. From the breathing apparatus, a long tube runs into the helmet delivering fresh cool air for him to breath. It was hardly the comfortable life style for a 16 year old boy.
"Hey buddy, how are you doing?" Spartan said, walking up to his brother and placing a hand on his shoulder.
"Are there really zombies coming?"
"Yes buddy, there are really zombies coming, and yes if you are bitten I will kill you." Spartan said, jokingly.
"Good luck, I would bite you faster than you could say 'Oh no Cody, don't bite me!'" he said with a laugh.
Spartan laughed and shook his head. "Start getting your suit on now, we will be leaving soon."
"All I need is my helmet."
"Good, then go ahead and get that on."
On his way back outside, Spartan grabbed the aluminum baseball bat that he had since he was just a kid. He never thought he would be using it as a weapon, but desperate times call for desperate measures, and it was all he had available to him at the time.
"Do you remember how to get there?" Spartan asked his mom as she placed the last of the belongings in the Kia.
"Yes. Is your brother ready?"
"Yeah, he will be coming in a second." Spartan responded looking over his shoulder to make sure Cody wasn't behind him. He turned back to his mother. "Listen to me Mom. Don't stop for anything. If something happens, I will be right behind you."
"Would you not worry so much, I have prayed and given it to God. You should do the same." she responded.
"Yeah, maybe..." Spartan murmured as he turned to head toward his car, knowingly trying to avoid the subject of God.
Getting into his car, Spartan put his key into the ignition and started it. Once the Kia in front of him started moving, in which his mother and brother were driving, he placed his car in drive and began to follow.
The Kia's windows were all tinted meaning that once Cody was inside he could remove his suit and sit comfortably. A blanket was kept nearby for time when a door or window needed to be opened, or if someone was exiting the vehicle.
It was nearly a week ago that Spartan found himself sitting in his Louisville apartment, online at the RedvsBlue forums, when Baraxis starting talking like he had just woken from a nightmare. He was talking, at first, in what seemed like tongues to everyone else on the board. No matter what he said, however, the members of the Family believed every word without question. As quickly as they could, they communicated a plan. For Spartan, the first order of business was getting out of Louisville, a city in Kentucky whose population was over 250,000 people.
"What the fuck?" Spartan said when the vehicle in front of him began to slow.
A person seemed to be standing in the opposite lane of traffic, not moving at all. Spartan noticed his mother pull up to the side of the man standing there, and at that moment he knew what was going on.
"No! No! No!" He shouted, "I told her not to stop!"
Spartan saw movement on the inside of the car in the passenger seat, meaning Cody was putting the blanket over his head. He pressed his foot against the gas as hard as he could. The window rolled down, his mother poked her head out of the window to speak to the man. Spartan's car accelerating as quickly as it could, it struck the man just as he stuck his head inside the Kia. Flying forward off of the hood of the car, the man hit the ground hard nearly 20 feet from where he was struck.
Grabbing the baseball bat, Spartan evacuated his car immediately and walked to the man who was getting up off of the ground. Facing the man, Spartan saw that it was just as he thought: It wasn't a man at all; it was a zombie. The infestation had arrived. Spartan didn't waste a second, drawing back the baseball bat to swing, and didn't take a chance in stopping until he knew there was nothing getting up.
Covered in blood, Spartan ran to the Kia. As he ran as fast he could, he saw that the window was being rolled up. "Wait!" he shouted. Finally reaching the car door he started knocking on the window to signal for Cody to place the blanket over his head so that he could open the door. Lifting up on the handle, he found that the door was locked.
Pressing his face against the driver side window to try and see what was going on inside the car through the tinting; Spartan could only see movement on the inside and nothing more. With his face still pressed against the glass, he was nearly thrown back when a fist started pounding on the glass from the other side. Screams could be heard from within the vehicle, and Spartan's mind began to race with thoughts.
"I'm coming!" he screamed.
Running to the back of the Kia, he drew back the aluminum baseball bat and swung. Smacking the rear window, the bat cracked the glass. With every blow, the glass cracked and broke away more. The window tinting only seeming to make the job harder as it appeared to reinforce the glass. As the glass broke away from the vehicle, the screams from inside became more audible and understandable.
"Mom! Stop." Cody cried. "Please, mom... Why are you doing this?!" his words growing quieter and more drawn out as if struggling to draw breath.
Running to the driver side window again, Spartan began to frantically pound on the window with the bat. Swinging as hard as he could, it took only a few swings for him to be able to reach inside and unlock the door. Opening the door, he quickly reached into the car and grabbed his mother by her hair pulled her out of the vehicle, onto the street.
A large chunk of flesh missing from her neck, Spartan's mother was bloodsoaked and discolored. It was painfully clear that SpartanProto had disposed of the zombie too late.
Stepping backwards, Spartan turned to face away from his mother who was getting to her feet. Tears welling up in his eyes, he began to consider letting the infestation take him.
"No." Spartan whispered to himself. Letting out a sigh, with tears rolling down his cheeks.
Spartan gripped the bat tightly in his bloodstained hands, and turned to face his undead mother who had gotten to her feet.
"I know what must be done."
Making no movements at all, Spartan waited for his mother to come to him. Unable to look her in the face or at the gaping hole in her neck, he waited. Killing a man who threatens the life of his family was one thing, but to end the life of the family he fought to protect was something else entirely. Despite the fact that she was no longer to be considered living, she was still his mother.
Her pale, discolored eyes fixed on her prey, and Spartan's mother let out a low gurgle-like moan as she suddenly started to sprint toward him.
The sound of foot to asphalt getting closer, Spartan wiped a tear from his cheek with the hand that clenched the ball bat, and finally prepared to swing. Swinging with full force, the bat left an impression in the skull of his undead mother, and sent her to the ground. However, the swing was not enough to do her in for good.
Spartan stepped away again, still trying to cope with all that was going on. His mother stumbled to her feet again and turned to face her defiant son. Sprinting again, she appeared to run right into the Spartan's swing. The bat impacted the same place as before, this time caving in a large section of her skull. Lying completely lifeless on the ground before him, there was no part of his mother getting back up.
Behind the fallen body of his mother, stood Cody, hoodless, and standing in the daylight. The left side of his face mutilated and bloody, his skin pale, his eyes dark and bloodshot. Blood dripping from his emotionless face, he stood motionless in the light. For the first time in his life, he stood in the daylight without fear for his life.
The ball bat crashed to the ground, landing at Spartan's feet. Falling to his knees, he stared into his brother's eyes. Resisting the urge to break down into tears, he choked everything back and fought to regain composure. Never in his life had he seen his brother in the daylight; always behind the tinted glass indoors, underneath the hood outside, or in the moonlight. Cody had always been sheltered from the world.
"I hope it is everything you hoped for." Spartan said, grabbing the bat and getting to his feet.
Still standing in the same position, Cody made no movements, only stared at his brother.
Walking toward his car, Spartan felt it was time to leave it all behind. Thinking back, Spartan found room for a smile:
"Looks like I lied to you, buddy." he said as he got into his car.
Placing the car in drive, he took off down the road. Watching the rear view mirror, he saw his brother walking the same direction. While driving he kept his eyes on the mirror until his brother was out of sight.
Bowmanville, Ontario. Canada.
(five days after Zero Hour)
Walking up the stairs, Film_Geek rubbed his eyes. He had just most of the day watching the first season of Avatar: The Last Airbender, as suggested by his forum-mate Baraxis, and needed a little break before returning to his world of fantasy.
"That was pretty damn good, I should trust B more often." he mumbled to himself as he reached the upper floor. He noticed his parents, and greeted them. They were standing near the front door, getting ready to go out.
His mother approached him quietly, "Do you want something to eat?"
"No, I'm good thanks." Geekers replied, "Dinner was just a few hours ago."
"Well, your father is feeling a little under the weather, so we're going to head off to the clinic in a few minutes. We'll see you later tonight. Hopefully it's not too crazy in town, with flu season and all."
Film_Geek smiled. He hugged his mom and looked to his father at the other side of the room. "I hope he feels better."
She turned and kissed him on the cheek. "I'm sure it's nothing, just a flu." she assured, smiling.
Walking to the fridge, Geekers opened the door and grabbed a water bottle from inside. He turned, smiled again at his mother, and walked down the stairs. He heard the front door open, and close soon after.
Approaching the entertainment centre, Geekers slumped down onto the couch, grabbed the remote off the table, and flipped on the television. He booted the DVD player, and the Avatar menu appeared on the screen. Getting himself to the episode-selection screen, he found where he had left off. For the next few hours, he lost himself in his show.
Come the final credits of the season finale, he awoke from his trance. He had finished off the first season, and enjoyed it thoroughly. Turning off the DVD player, the news automatically clicked onto the screen.
"The news isn’t usually on at this time..." Geek muttered curiously as he reached for the remote and changed the channel. Again, he found himself staring at a newscast.
He continued to flip through, eventually stopping long enough to read the headline of the newscast: 'End of Days – Viral infestation runs rampant throughout all major cities'. He dropped the remote, and directed his full attention on the anchorwoman currently speaking.
"At this time, there is no indication as to the cause of the outbreak, but what we do know is that it is highly contagious." The anchorwoman spoke in a monotonous, yet grave tone. "With us live is a representative for the Canadian Public Health Association."
"Thanks Tara. Ladies and gentleman, the most important thing for you to do right now is to keep calm and stay in your homes. The initial flu-like onset of the infection seems to regress into heightened aggression and incoherence. If you have been bitten, scratched, or transfered any other bodily fluids with an infected person, isolate yourself from all others until emergency personnel can assist you. Thank you. Tara?"
"Coming up in the next half-hour: Are you going to Hell? A religious deba-"
Film_Geek shut off the TV. He sat still for the next few seconds; minutes. He lost his sense of time. The only thing on his mind were his parents. What's going on? Are they okay? Will I ever see them again? What's going to happen? Why is this happening? His mind raced with unanswerable questions.
He could no longer control himself, and buried his face in his palms. Tears streamed down his arms. He sat, still as stone, for what seemed like hours. He was completely alone, and that fact was most disturbing of all.
Geek finally raised his head. His face was sore, his eyes swollen. He was done crying, it was time to do something. We're supposed to stay here, the emergency crew will find us! a voice screamed in the back of his head. "No, they won't come and get us out here. They won't bother."
For the next few hours, Film_Geek trounced around his home gathering supplies, equipment, and various other things that he felt needed to be salvaged. He was outside himself, uncontrolled; driven entirely by emotion, instinct, and survival. Geek needed to find help, he needed to find his parents, and he needed to stay alive.
As he packed the final necessities into a backpack, Film_Geek heard a sound from upstairs. The front door opened, soon followed by it slamming shut. Geek quickly ran up the stairs to find out who was in his house. His eyes still red and puffy, he met the eyes of his mother, just as stricken with emotion.
"Mom?!" he squealed, as he ran to his mother whom he believed dead, and captured her in a tight embrace.
Eventually releasing his mother, Geek's excitement quickly faded. He noticed, beneath her puffy red eyes and tear-soaked cheeks, a pale and sickly expression. He also noticed her left hand, which cradled a bloodsoaked sleeve on her right wrist.
"Oh god mom... wha-" he choked, "what happened?"
She walked to the living room and took a seat on a chair. "Your father, he... The clinic, it was a mad-house. We couldn't get in. You father started to shake, he wouldn't respond to me. Finally, he stopped shaking, but then he... he..." she stopped, closing her eyes as a tear slowly ran down her face. "They took him; they just grabbed him and pulled him inside. I didn't know what to do, they wouldn't let me in."
Geekers found himself staring at the unseen wound on his mother's wrist. She noticed.
"I... I'm fine dear." she soothed. "I just need some bandages." She stood, and began to head to the bathroom, but as she took her first step she fell to the floor.
"Mom!" Geek gasped, darting to his ill-featured mother convulsing on the floor.
Helping her sit up, Film_Geek didn't quite know what to do. He understood that his mother couldn't be saved, but his logical thought seemed to be completely blocked by his surge of emotion. "I can't leave you, mom." he weeped, unable to hold back the tears.
She coughed a few more times, still shaking. "I love you, as does your father. We're so proud of you..." she whispered.
"I love you too mom... regardless of what happens." he replied softly, leaning over to give his mother one last embrace.
She turned to kiss him on the cheek, but Geek noticed that she had stopped shaking. His eyes widening with realization, and he pulled back just quick enough to escape his mothers jaws. He quickly backed away, staring into the dark, soulless eyes of the creature crawling toward him.
Grabbing hold of the table, he pulled himself up and continued to back away. Geekers didn't know what to do, once again. There was no way he could kill his mother, even if it wasn't actually his mother, and even if she was already dead. She stood up and darted toward him, arms outstretched and mouth gaping. Film_Geek's eyes widened, turning out of the way and running to the stairs. The creature stumbled past Geek's original position, but soon turned to return her pursuit.
As he approached the stairs, he realized that if he went down he would be trapped. The confined space and the single narrow exit, it was a deathtrap. Even worse was the fact that he left his bag of necessities down in the tomb. He quickly realized that it was a bad idea to stop. The creature hissed with undead hunger as it approached him from behind, Geekers realizing just how close she actually was. He fought the urge to turn around, and stepped out of the way enough for his mother to pass.
Without anticipating the staircase, the corpse was unable to slow herself in time to avoid the sudden drop. She toppled down the stairs, rolling and falling in an almost cartoon-like fashion. Geek could hear the creature's bones snap as she tumbled to the bottom, culminating in a groan of animalistic pain.
He peered down the steps to examine where exactly his mother's corpse had landed. She laid a few feet from the bottom of the stairs, twitching and flexing as she tried to regain composure and return to her pursuit of her son standing at the top of the stairs.
She hissed with hunger as she eyed the unreachable meal above her, and groaned once again, more with irritation than pain. But Film_Geek noticed that she was rather incapacitated. Though she could slightly move, there was no way she would be able to make chase as before. Believing it to be safe enough, Geek started down the stairs.
As he neared the bottom, he shuffled to the side to keep as much distance from between him and the hungry zombie lying merely feet away. She growled and scratched in hopes of snagging at least a piece of fresh flesh. Geekers was able to keep enough space between himself and the creature to keep her craving and get by safely.
He stared at her gruesome, helpless composure, disgusted yet completely heartbroken. He grabbed his bag off the table, keeping his watery eyes on the zombie that was his mother merely minutes ago. Obtaining what he had ventured down to get, he slowly returned to the stairwell. The zombie at the bottom of the stairs still growled and hissed, hungrily eyeballing her approaching son.
Film_Geek managed to get to the main floor, escaping the creature lying helpless as the bottom of the stairs. Though it hurt to leave her, he knew it was the right thing to do. Or at least, the only thing he could do. Upstairs, he finished gathering any remaining necessities, and started to make himself something to eat. He knew he didn't have much time, but he figured he should put the stove to use one last time. A tear sizzled in the heated pan on the element, as Geekers finally fell back and broke down.
"Oh shit." he muttered to himself. "Shit, I don't know what to do. What the hell is going on? What... what..." His face fell into his hands, and there he sat as tears flowed through his fingers.
After the wave of emotion washed away, Film_Geek's head raised quickly as he heard something from the other side of the house. He stood, trying to figure out where the sound was coming from, and soon discovered just that. Crawling up the stairs was the severed torso of his mother. It seemed that she ripped off her own legs in order to continue the pursuit of her dinner.
Geek gagged as the bloody ribcage dragged across the floor, leaving a trail of blood and gore. She seemed to be moving much slower than before, but still posed a grave threat within the walls of the log cabin Geekers called home. He continued to gag, trying to regain his composure long enough to coordinate an escape. The creature drew closer.
Film_Geek backed away to the other side of the kitchen, not realizing he had left the stove on. His back bumped against the hot pan he had placed on the burner earlier, spilling its contents into the open flame, and falling to the floor. Not only did Geekers find himself once again threatened by a hungry zombie, but he also had to deal with a quickly growing fire.
Finally coming to his senses, he grabbed his bag from the counter and jumped over the flames that were spreading quickly across the kitchen. He made his way to the front door, looking back one final time. His mother stared back at him with her cloudy, lifeless eyes, as she crawled through the kitchen setting herself ablaze. Geekers closed his eyes tightly, unable to completely comprehend the horror he had just witnessed. He stepped outside and closed the door behind him.
He walked into the forest outside of his house, pacing and thinking; plotting what to do next. Leaning against a tree, Film_Geek turned and gazed upon the burning remains of his home. Streams of tears ran down his cheeks, as he closed his eyes tightly.
Film_Geek turned and hunched over the soft ground, emptying his stomach. He stood up, taking one last look at the log cabin in which he had lived for so many years. The time had come to leave it all behind, though he never imagined it would be like this.
"Goodbye mom."
He turned and grabbed his bag of necessary belongings, and threw it over his back. From an unzipped pocket slid out a Spawn action figure, landing softly on the ground. Geekers quickly turned around, picked up the model, and placed it carefully back in his bag. He snickered, and continued to walk.
Reaching into his pocket, he slipped out a cell phone. Turning it on, he dialled a familiar number. He put the phone up to his ear and waited for the ringing to cease, as he continued walking. A soft beep signalled him to leave a message.
With a quivering voice, Film_Geek began to speak. "Dude, we need to talk. There’s something going on, I don’t really know what or why... or anything, really. I just, don't know what to say... Fools, you have to warn the Family."
"Mom, we have to get out of here." SpartanProto said carrying essential items to his mother's Kia Sportage.
"Honey, I don't see why we have to just take off and leave everything here." his mother responded, following behind him with more items.
"What is so hard to understand about this: In a matter of hours, this place is going to be infested with zombies. I know it sounds like something out of a movie, but please trust me. We need to go, once it hits our chances of survival are damn near none."
"It just doesn't feel right leaving all of this behind, for something we can't even be sure is going to come here."
"Mom, please. We don't have time for this. Cincinnati is already gone, and it is coming this way." SpartanProto said, walking back inside to check on Cody, his brother.
Allergic to the sun since birth, Cody had a disease called Xeroderma Pigmentosum. It was a rare form of skin cancer, making his skin highly sensitive to any and all ultraviolet light. When going outside, or anywhere that is potentially unsafe, he is required to wear a special suit. A tinted visor covers his face so that he can see, and is surrounded by two layers of denim overtop of a skateboard helmet. The denim falls over the shoulders to conceal the neck, and a thick hoody-type shirt is worn over whatever shirt he wears. Thick denim pants safely conceal his legs, and tube socks must be worn for the ankles. Around his waist, he wears a breathing apparatus that was originally designed for painters, but slightly modified for his purpose. From the breathing apparatus, a long tube runs into the helmet delivering fresh cool air for him to breath. It was hardly the comfortable life style for a 16 year old boy.
"Hey buddy, how are you doing?" Spartan said, walking up to his brother and placing a hand on his shoulder.
"Are there really zombies coming?"
"Yes buddy, there are really zombies coming, and yes if you are bitten I will kill you." Spartan said, jokingly.
"Good luck, I would bite you faster than you could say 'Oh no Cody, don't bite me!'" he said with a laugh.
Spartan laughed and shook his head. "Start getting your suit on now, we will be leaving soon."
"All I need is my helmet."
"Good, then go ahead and get that on."
On his way back outside, Spartan grabbed the aluminum baseball bat that he had since he was just a kid. He never thought he would be using it as a weapon, but desperate times call for desperate measures, and it was all he had available to him at the time.
"Do you remember how to get there?" Spartan asked his mom as she placed the last of the belongings in the Kia.
"Yes. Is your brother ready?"
"Yeah, he will be coming in a second." Spartan responded looking over his shoulder to make sure Cody wasn't behind him. He turned back to his mother. "Listen to me Mom. Don't stop for anything. If something happens, I will be right behind you."
"Would you not worry so much, I have prayed and given it to God. You should do the same." she responded.
"Yeah, maybe..." Spartan murmured as he turned to head toward his car, knowingly trying to avoid the subject of God.
Getting into his car, Spartan put his key into the ignition and started it. Once the Kia in front of him started moving, in which his mother and brother were driving, he placed his car in drive and began to follow.
The Kia's windows were all tinted meaning that once Cody was inside he could remove his suit and sit comfortably. A blanket was kept nearby for time when a door or window needed to be opened, or if someone was exiting the vehicle.
It was nearly a week ago that Spartan found himself sitting in his Louisville apartment, online at the RedvsBlue forums, when Baraxis starting talking like he had just woken from a nightmare. He was talking, at first, in what seemed like tongues to everyone else on the board. No matter what he said, however, the members of the Family believed every word without question. As quickly as they could, they communicated a plan. For Spartan, the first order of business was getting out of Louisville, a city in Kentucky whose population was over 250,000 people.
"What the fuck?" Spartan said when the vehicle in front of him began to slow.
A person seemed to be standing in the opposite lane of traffic, not moving at all. Spartan noticed his mother pull up to the side of the man standing there, and at that moment he knew what was going on.
"No! No! No!" He shouted, "I told her not to stop!"
Spartan saw movement on the inside of the car in the passenger seat, meaning Cody was putting the blanket over his head. He pressed his foot against the gas as hard as he could. The window rolled down, his mother poked her head out of the window to speak to the man. Spartan's car accelerating as quickly as it could, it struck the man just as he stuck his head inside the Kia. Flying forward off of the hood of the car, the man hit the ground hard nearly 20 feet from where he was struck.
Grabbing the baseball bat, Spartan evacuated his car immediately and walked to the man who was getting up off of the ground. Facing the man, Spartan saw that it was just as he thought: It wasn't a man at all; it was a zombie. The infestation had arrived. Spartan didn't waste a second, drawing back the baseball bat to swing, and didn't take a chance in stopping until he knew there was nothing getting up.
Covered in blood, Spartan ran to the Kia. As he ran as fast he could, he saw that the window was being rolled up. "Wait!" he shouted. Finally reaching the car door he started knocking on the window to signal for Cody to place the blanket over his head so that he could open the door. Lifting up on the handle, he found that the door was locked.
Pressing his face against the driver side window to try and see what was going on inside the car through the tinting; Spartan could only see movement on the inside and nothing more. With his face still pressed against the glass, he was nearly thrown back when a fist started pounding on the glass from the other side. Screams could be heard from within the vehicle, and Spartan's mind began to race with thoughts.
"I'm coming!" he screamed.
Running to the back of the Kia, he drew back the aluminum baseball bat and swung. Smacking the rear window, the bat cracked the glass. With every blow, the glass cracked and broke away more. The window tinting only seeming to make the job harder as it appeared to reinforce the glass. As the glass broke away from the vehicle, the screams from inside became more audible and understandable.
"Mom! Stop." Cody cried. "Please, mom... Why are you doing this?!" his words growing quieter and more drawn out as if struggling to draw breath.
Running to the driver side window again, Spartan began to frantically pound on the window with the bat. Swinging as hard as he could, it took only a few swings for him to be able to reach inside and unlock the door. Opening the door, he quickly reached into the car and grabbed his mother by her hair pulled her out of the vehicle, onto the street.
A large chunk of flesh missing from her neck, Spartan's mother was bloodsoaked and discolored. It was painfully clear that SpartanProto had disposed of the zombie too late.
Stepping backwards, Spartan turned to face away from his mother who was getting to her feet. Tears welling up in his eyes, he began to consider letting the infestation take him.
"No." Spartan whispered to himself. Letting out a sigh, with tears rolling down his cheeks.
Spartan gripped the bat tightly in his bloodstained hands, and turned to face his undead mother who had gotten to her feet.
"I know what must be done."
Making no movements at all, Spartan waited for his mother to come to him. Unable to look her in the face or at the gaping hole in her neck, he waited. Killing a man who threatens the life of his family was one thing, but to end the life of the family he fought to protect was something else entirely. Despite the fact that she was no longer to be considered living, she was still his mother.
Her pale, discolored eyes fixed on her prey, and Spartan's mother let out a low gurgle-like moan as she suddenly started to sprint toward him.
The sound of foot to asphalt getting closer, Spartan wiped a tear from his cheek with the hand that clenched the ball bat, and finally prepared to swing. Swinging with full force, the bat left an impression in the skull of his undead mother, and sent her to the ground. However, the swing was not enough to do her in for good.
Spartan stepped away again, still trying to cope with all that was going on. His mother stumbled to her feet again and turned to face her defiant son. Sprinting again, she appeared to run right into the Spartan's swing. The bat impacted the same place as before, this time caving in a large section of her skull. Lying completely lifeless on the ground before him, there was no part of his mother getting back up.
Behind the fallen body of his mother, stood Cody, hoodless, and standing in the daylight. The left side of his face mutilated and bloody, his skin pale, his eyes dark and bloodshot. Blood dripping from his emotionless face, he stood motionless in the light. For the first time in his life, he stood in the daylight without fear for his life.
The ball bat crashed to the ground, landing at Spartan's feet. Falling to his knees, he stared into his brother's eyes. Resisting the urge to break down into tears, he choked everything back and fought to regain composure. Never in his life had he seen his brother in the daylight; always behind the tinted glass indoors, underneath the hood outside, or in the moonlight. Cody had always been sheltered from the world.
"I hope it is everything you hoped for." Spartan said, grabbing the bat and getting to his feet.
Still standing in the same position, Cody made no movements, only stared at his brother.
Walking toward his car, Spartan felt it was time to leave it all behind. Thinking back, Spartan found room for a smile:
"Looks like I lied to you, buddy." he said as he got into his car.
Placing the car in drive, he took off down the road. Watching the rear view mirror, he saw his brother walking the same direction. While driving he kept his eyes on the mirror until his brother was out of sight.
Bowmanville, Ontario. Canada.
(five days after Zero Hour)
Walking up the stairs, Film_Geek rubbed his eyes. He had just most of the day watching the first season of Avatar: The Last Airbender, as suggested by his forum-mate Baraxis, and needed a little break before returning to his world of fantasy.
"That was pretty damn good, I should trust B more often." he mumbled to himself as he reached the upper floor. He noticed his parents, and greeted them. They were standing near the front door, getting ready to go out.
His mother approached him quietly, "Do you want something to eat?"
"No, I'm good thanks." Geekers replied, "Dinner was just a few hours ago."
"Well, your father is feeling a little under the weather, so we're going to head off to the clinic in a few minutes. We'll see you later tonight. Hopefully it's not too crazy in town, with flu season and all."
Film_Geek smiled. He hugged his mom and looked to his father at the other side of the room. "I hope he feels better."
She turned and kissed him on the cheek. "I'm sure it's nothing, just a flu." she assured, smiling.
Walking to the fridge, Geekers opened the door and grabbed a water bottle from inside. He turned, smiled again at his mother, and walked down the stairs. He heard the front door open, and close soon after.
Approaching the entertainment centre, Geekers slumped down onto the couch, grabbed the remote off the table, and flipped on the television. He booted the DVD player, and the Avatar menu appeared on the screen. Getting himself to the episode-selection screen, he found where he had left off. For the next few hours, he lost himself in his show.
Come the final credits of the season finale, he awoke from his trance. He had finished off the first season, and enjoyed it thoroughly. Turning off the DVD player, the news automatically clicked onto the screen.
"The news isn’t usually on at this time..." Geek muttered curiously as he reached for the remote and changed the channel. Again, he found himself staring at a newscast.
He continued to flip through, eventually stopping long enough to read the headline of the newscast: 'End of Days – Viral infestation runs rampant throughout all major cities'. He dropped the remote, and directed his full attention on the anchorwoman currently speaking.
"At this time, there is no indication as to the cause of the outbreak, but what we do know is that it is highly contagious." The anchorwoman spoke in a monotonous, yet grave tone. "With us live is a representative for the Canadian Public Health Association."
"Thanks Tara. Ladies and gentleman, the most important thing for you to do right now is to keep calm and stay in your homes. The initial flu-like onset of the infection seems to regress into heightened aggression and incoherence. If you have been bitten, scratched, or transfered any other bodily fluids with an infected person, isolate yourself from all others until emergency personnel can assist you. Thank you. Tara?"
"Coming up in the next half-hour: Are you going to Hell? A religious deba-"
Film_Geek shut off the TV. He sat still for the next few seconds; minutes. He lost his sense of time. The only thing on his mind were his parents. What's going on? Are they okay? Will I ever see them again? What's going to happen? Why is this happening? His mind raced with unanswerable questions.
He could no longer control himself, and buried his face in his palms. Tears streamed down his arms. He sat, still as stone, for what seemed like hours. He was completely alone, and that fact was most disturbing of all.
Geek finally raised his head. His face was sore, his eyes swollen. He was done crying, it was time to do something. We're supposed to stay here, the emergency crew will find us! a voice screamed in the back of his head. "No, they won't come and get us out here. They won't bother."
For the next few hours, Film_Geek trounced around his home gathering supplies, equipment, and various other things that he felt needed to be salvaged. He was outside himself, uncontrolled; driven entirely by emotion, instinct, and survival. Geek needed to find help, he needed to find his parents, and he needed to stay alive.
As he packed the final necessities into a backpack, Film_Geek heard a sound from upstairs. The front door opened, soon followed by it slamming shut. Geek quickly ran up the stairs to find out who was in his house. His eyes still red and puffy, he met the eyes of his mother, just as stricken with emotion.
"Mom?!" he squealed, as he ran to his mother whom he believed dead, and captured her in a tight embrace.
Eventually releasing his mother, Geek's excitement quickly faded. He noticed, beneath her puffy red eyes and tear-soaked cheeks, a pale and sickly expression. He also noticed her left hand, which cradled a bloodsoaked sleeve on her right wrist.
"Oh god mom... wha-" he choked, "what happened?"
She walked to the living room and took a seat on a chair. "Your father, he... The clinic, it was a mad-house. We couldn't get in. You father started to shake, he wouldn't respond to me. Finally, he stopped shaking, but then he... he..." she stopped, closing her eyes as a tear slowly ran down her face. "They took him; they just grabbed him and pulled him inside. I didn't know what to do, they wouldn't let me in."
Geekers found himself staring at the unseen wound on his mother's wrist. She noticed.
"I... I'm fine dear." she soothed. "I just need some bandages." She stood, and began to head to the bathroom, but as she took her first step she fell to the floor.
"Mom!" Geek gasped, darting to his ill-featured mother convulsing on the floor.
Helping her sit up, Film_Geek didn't quite know what to do. He understood that his mother couldn't be saved, but his logical thought seemed to be completely blocked by his surge of emotion. "I can't leave you, mom." he weeped, unable to hold back the tears.
She coughed a few more times, still shaking. "I love you, as does your father. We're so proud of you..." she whispered.
"I love you too mom... regardless of what happens." he replied softly, leaning over to give his mother one last embrace.
She turned to kiss him on the cheek, but Geek noticed that she had stopped shaking. His eyes widening with realization, and he pulled back just quick enough to escape his mothers jaws. He quickly backed away, staring into the dark, soulless eyes of the creature crawling toward him.
Grabbing hold of the table, he pulled himself up and continued to back away. Geekers didn't know what to do, once again. There was no way he could kill his mother, even if it wasn't actually his mother, and even if she was already dead. She stood up and darted toward him, arms outstretched and mouth gaping. Film_Geek's eyes widened, turning out of the way and running to the stairs. The creature stumbled past Geek's original position, but soon turned to return her pursuit.
As he approached the stairs, he realized that if he went down he would be trapped. The confined space and the single narrow exit, it was a deathtrap. Even worse was the fact that he left his bag of necessities down in the tomb. He quickly realized that it was a bad idea to stop. The creature hissed with undead hunger as it approached him from behind, Geekers realizing just how close she actually was. He fought the urge to turn around, and stepped out of the way enough for his mother to pass.
Without anticipating the staircase, the corpse was unable to slow herself in time to avoid the sudden drop. She toppled down the stairs, rolling and falling in an almost cartoon-like fashion. Geek could hear the creature's bones snap as she tumbled to the bottom, culminating in a groan of animalistic pain.
He peered down the steps to examine where exactly his mother's corpse had landed. She laid a few feet from the bottom of the stairs, twitching and flexing as she tried to regain composure and return to her pursuit of her son standing at the top of the stairs.
She hissed with hunger as she eyed the unreachable meal above her, and groaned once again, more with irritation than pain. But Film_Geek noticed that she was rather incapacitated. Though she could slightly move, there was no way she would be able to make chase as before. Believing it to be safe enough, Geek started down the stairs.
As he neared the bottom, he shuffled to the side to keep as much distance from between him and the hungry zombie lying merely feet away. She growled and scratched in hopes of snagging at least a piece of fresh flesh. Geekers was able to keep enough space between himself and the creature to keep her craving and get by safely.
He stared at her gruesome, helpless composure, disgusted yet completely heartbroken. He grabbed his bag off the table, keeping his watery eyes on the zombie that was his mother merely minutes ago. Obtaining what he had ventured down to get, he slowly returned to the stairwell. The zombie at the bottom of the stairs still growled and hissed, hungrily eyeballing her approaching son.
Film_Geek managed to get to the main floor, escaping the creature lying helpless as the bottom of the stairs. Though it hurt to leave her, he knew it was the right thing to do. Or at least, the only thing he could do. Upstairs, he finished gathering any remaining necessities, and started to make himself something to eat. He knew he didn't have much time, but he figured he should put the stove to use one last time. A tear sizzled in the heated pan on the element, as Geekers finally fell back and broke down.
"Oh shit." he muttered to himself. "Shit, I don't know what to do. What the hell is going on? What... what..." His face fell into his hands, and there he sat as tears flowed through his fingers.
After the wave of emotion washed away, Film_Geek's head raised quickly as he heard something from the other side of the house. He stood, trying to figure out where the sound was coming from, and soon discovered just that. Crawling up the stairs was the severed torso of his mother. It seemed that she ripped off her own legs in order to continue the pursuit of her dinner.
Geek gagged as the bloody ribcage dragged across the floor, leaving a trail of blood and gore. She seemed to be moving much slower than before, but still posed a grave threat within the walls of the log cabin Geekers called home. He continued to gag, trying to regain his composure long enough to coordinate an escape. The creature drew closer.
Film_Geek backed away to the other side of the kitchen, not realizing he had left the stove on. His back bumped against the hot pan he had placed on the burner earlier, spilling its contents into the open flame, and falling to the floor. Not only did Geekers find himself once again threatened by a hungry zombie, but he also had to deal with a quickly growing fire.
Finally coming to his senses, he grabbed his bag from the counter and jumped over the flames that were spreading quickly across the kitchen. He made his way to the front door, looking back one final time. His mother stared back at him with her cloudy, lifeless eyes, as she crawled through the kitchen setting herself ablaze. Geekers closed his eyes tightly, unable to completely comprehend the horror he had just witnessed. He stepped outside and closed the door behind him.
He walked into the forest outside of his house, pacing and thinking; plotting what to do next. Leaning against a tree, Film_Geek turned and gazed upon the burning remains of his home. Streams of tears ran down his cheeks, as he closed his eyes tightly.
Film_Geek turned and hunched over the soft ground, emptying his stomach. He stood up, taking one last look at the log cabin in which he had lived for so many years. The time had come to leave it all behind, though he never imagined it would be like this.
"Goodbye mom."
He turned and grabbed his bag of necessary belongings, and threw it over his back. From an unzipped pocket slid out a Spawn action figure, landing softly on the ground. Geekers quickly turned around, picked up the model, and placed it carefully back in his bag. He snickered, and continued to walk.
Reaching into his pocket, he slipped out a cell phone. Turning it on, he dialled a familiar number. He put the phone up to his ear and waited for the ringing to cease, as he continued walking. A soft beep signalled him to leave a message.
With a quivering voice, Film_Geek began to speak. "Dude, we need to talk. There’s something going on, I don’t really know what or why... or anything, really. I just, don't know what to say... Fools, you have to warn the Family."
Phelpston, Ontario. Canada.
(one week after Zero Hour)
The glow of the computer monitor illuminating the cold, empty basement he called ‘home’, Baraxis closed the game window after a long session of Guild Wars. He blinked a few times, rubbed his eyes, and looked down at the computer clock in the bottom corner of his monitor.
“Fuck, three-thirty?” he whispered, closing down all of his open programs and windows. He shut down his computer, hit the switch in the back, and slowly walked over to his ‘room’, pulling off his clothes and sliding into a pair of pajama bottoms.
Feeling antsy, Baraxis approached his stereo and turned on the radio, the news offering a calming ambiance amidst the vast darkness that haunted the open basement. Despite his age, he was still a little afraid of the dark. He dashed over to his bed and curled into the warm blankets, closing his eyes and drifting into a dreamless sleep.
Sunlight burst through the tiny windows that surrounded his room, Baraxis grunted and pulled the covers over his face. He realized he would not be able to get back to sleep, and pulled off the blankets. He slid his legs off the side, and stood from his bed, stretching. He turned to the stereo, which read 1:20pm. Realizing he left the radio on, he listened closely: Soft static floated from the speakers. He approached the stereo, curiously, and turned it off.
“Hmph. Weird…” Baraxis grunted, scratching his head and approaching his computer, switching it on. He turned and walked to the stairs, and began to climb. As he reached the top of the stairs, he noticed the TV on, suffering from what seemed to be the same static as his radio. He grabbed the controller and fiddled around, trying to fix the television; nothing worked. He gave up after a couple seconds of frustration, turned off the TV, and threw the controller into the couch.
“Fucking kids. Where the hell are they, anyway?” he murmured, examining the apparently empty house, a very open design. “Must’ve gone out…” he said, as he walked past the mudroom and over to the garage door. He opened it, and noticed both vehicles sitting in their rightful places. “The hell?” he said, confused. Turning, he noticed a figure move past the mudroom door.
“Mackenzie?” Baraxis called, hesitantly. He walked out of the mudroom, examining the hallway for the movement he had thought he just saw. There was nothing. “Fuckin’ weird.” He murmured.
He walked back out into the open great-room, still searching for some sign of life. Approaching his parents’ bedroom door, he noticed that it was closed. He knocked on the large doors, and called “I need some clothes from the laundry room… can I come in?”
He waited for an answer; there was nothing. “Fuck, whatever.” He murmured again as he turned and began to walk down the stairs. He approached his computer once in the basement, and began to log in. Hearing a creak on the stairs, he stopped.
“It’s too early to scare me mom... did you bring some clothes?” he called out. The slow shuffling on the stairs continued. Baraxis turned back and finished typing in his password, logging in. He left his computer to boot, and approached the stairs. Stopping abruptly, he was unable to comprehend what he saw standing halfway down the stairs.
His mother stood completely motionless, her clothes torn and blood-soaked. Her left hand was missing a few fingers, and clutched in her right was the severed arm of a child. Her dark, lifeless eyes locked on her son standing at the bottom of the stairs; she began shuffling once again, hungrily approaching him. She dropped the arm that was tightly clutched in her hand.
Baraxis backed away, tripping over the unpacked boxes that cluttered the corner of the basement. Air escaped his lungs, but there was no sound; he was confused and frightened. He pulled himself up and continued to back away toward his room. His mother had reached the basement floor, and continued to follow him. Baraxis's mind raced with the disturbing thought of what would have to be done.
As he approached his corner of the basement, He examined his unpacked belongings for some sort of defence. The creature that was once his mother staggered to his room, only a few feet from her frightened child. In desperation, he grabbed his bass guitar from its stand, and stood ready. His eyes locked on hers once again, in search of some flicker of life; nothing.
"Oh god, mom... no." he choked, as the inevitability of his situation became quite vivid.
She drew closer, reaching out for her son: merely fresh meat in her undead eyes. I love you so much mom… Baraxis thought to himself. He veered back and swung the instrument, connecting with the side of his undead mother’s skull. She fell to the ground with a soft thud, her head cracked and bloody.
“I’m... so sorry mom.” Baraxis whimpered, lowering the bloodstained bass to the ground. He stumbled back, and took a seat on his bed. His face dropped into his hands. His eyes began to swell as he tried to cry: There were no tears.
Baraxis heard another sound from atop the stairs. Standing up quickly, he returned to his boxes, rummaging through in search of a more wieldable weapon. At last, he came across his brother’s katana, left behind when he moved out to BC many months earlier.
“Thanks bro...” he chuckled, attempting to mask his fear and sorrow. Baraxis unsheathed the weapon and readied himself. Out from the bottom of the stairs appeared a small child: his sister, Danielle. A second soon appeared behind her: Mackenzie, his brother.
Baraxis’s eyes widened as his siblings came into clear view. Mackenzie’s left arm had been torn off, and it looked as though something had eaten a large chunk of his neck. Danielle’s face was mangled, almost unrecognizable, and a large gash on her side flapped open with each staggering step.
“Oh dear christ!” he whimpered, overwhelmed by the sight of his kin in such a state. They slowly lurched toward their older brother, mindless and bloodthirsty. “What the fuck?!” Baraxis squealed.
The two continued their slow pursuit of their prey. Each passing second tortured Baraxis with the growing thought that he would soon have to kill his younger siblings, despite them already being dead. The blade in his hand felt heavy; unmovable. His face hurt, but yet again the tears were absent.
Finally, Baraxis lifted the sword once again, knowing what must be done. He glared into the cloudy eyes of his former siblings; staring down death. A loud cry escaped his lungs; almost animalistic. He ran forward, blind with fury, and pulled the blade down, slashing through meat and bone. Blood was splattered everywhere, but he didn’t blink.
Baraxis awoke from his inhuman rage, the blade in his hand dripping with blood; his clothes were drenched. On the floor laid the bodies of two small children, mutilated and headless. Next to his dead mother rested the heads. Baraxis dropped the blade and raised his blood-soaked hands, staring at them in disgust and disbelief.
From upstairs came a growl, soon followed by yelp, seeming to come from a dog. Baraxis dropped his hands and looked to the sound. He reached down to pick up his weapon, and walked to the stairs.
He climbed slowly, tightly gripping the blade in one hand, and the railing in the other. When he reached the top of the stairs, he heard another yelp; it was coming from his parents’ room. He turned and pushed the doors open. Inside, he saw his dad pinning his dog to the bed, eating away at the still-living puppy. Baraxis gagged, and coughed.
His father quickly turned his head, and stared at the boy. He stood, leaving the half-devoured dog on the bed, twitching. He began to walk toward Baraxis, his eyes just as dark and cloudy as the others’. His mouth was dripping with fresh canine blood, though it was obvious that he craved a far more human meal.
Baraxis backed away from the doors. “No dad... Please!” he said, still gagging. He stared deep into his dad’s eyes; there was nothing left of the man who raised him. Though just Baraxis’s stepfather, he was more of a father than any other.
Baraxis stopped as his back met the wall. The creature that was once his dad continued to approach him, blood dripping from his chin. The famine in his eyes was difficult to comprehend.
Baraxis raised his weapon. “I... I love you dad.” he whispered. The creature's eyes opened wide as he groaned with hunger. Baraxis stepped forward and swung the blade. It sliced through his dad’s neck, but stopped abruptly when it hit the spine.
“Fuck!” he cried, his wrist strained. He pulled the blade from the wound, and his dad groaned once again. Baraxis pushed the zombie back slightly, and backed away a few steps. Gripped the sword tightly, he readied himself once again. This is not your dad anymore, he reminded himself. He widened his eyes, and swung the sword at the undead parent standing before him. The blade sliced swiftly though the zombie’s neck, and its head dropped to the floor with a loud thud.
Baraxis stumbled back to the wall, staring at his stepfather’s headless body lying on the floor. His back slid along the wall until he met with the floor. His face swelled up once again, but the tears could not escape. The blade fell from his hand.
After a few minutes, Baraxis stood and grabbed the sword on the floor. He turned and ran down the stairs, wiping the blade with his shirt. He trotted over to the mini-fridge, opened it, and grabbed the bottle of Jack sitting on the shelf. He removed the cap, took a swig, and headed for his computer. He rested the blade against the desk, easily accessible should he need to use it again.
Sitting at his computer again, bottle of Jack in hand, Baraxis knew he had to be quick and try to find out what was going on. Most of all, he needed to warn his friends; after all, they were the only “family” he had left.
Aurora, Colorado. United States.
“Just run toward me and jump over it!” JediPoet said to his fiancé. She was separated from him, now blocked by a creature of merely hunger and death.
The zombie flopped around in the hallway, leaving marks of death on the floor and walls. His legs were severed, but the remaining bloody nubs kicked into the air as it tried to regain whatever composure it once had. Finally, it set its sight on the girl screaming at the end of the hall.
“I can't, oh my god! Please do something.” she screamed at the top of her lungs. Tears streamed down her face.
JediPoet opened the door to his left and ran in looking for anything he could use to end the undead life of the zombie that threatened the life of his beloved Christene. As he ran toward the closet to search it's contents he heard the sound of shattering glass and then a loud scream that could only be coming from one person. Abandoning his search for a weapon, he ran back into the hallway, where he witnessed an army of undead making their way into the house through the windows.
“Christene!” he shouted to divert her attention from the windows to him. “you are going to have to do this, for me baby. Come on, just run and jump, you can do it.
“I can't.” She said, her voice shaking.
“Yes you can, I wouldn't ask you to do it if I didn't think that you could.”
“Okay... I'll try.”
Christene stared at the hallway for a few minutes as if preparing her mind for the jump.
“Baby, I love you...” She said it as if it was the last time she would utter the words.
Christene stepped backwards to and then lunged forward. Christene's head was quickly jerked backward as one of the undead had crept up behind her and grabbed her hair. As she ran forward, it's grip remained. Christene fell to the ground, and the reanimated piled on top of her.
“CHRISTENE!” Poet screamed, running down the hallway, leaping over the zombie making its way toward the others. “Get off of her you swine!” He shouted, as he began to throw the zombies aside.
The creatures continued to pour into the house, their numbers outside vastly outnumbering those inside.
Christene's eyes stared up at JediPoet. Her stare: blank and lifeless. Her neck and shoulder had been ripped into by the living corpses that had piled onto her. Blood was pouring from the open wound on her neck, but was coagulating quickly. Her breathes turned into gasps, gasps into gurgles, and gurgles into nothing.
JediPoet stared at his fiancé's lifeless face for a few moments before realizing what it was that he was witnessing. Tears started to stream down his face; a feeling travelled down his throat into his stomach that made him feel dead and alone all at once.
“No...” JediPoet whispered, to no one but himself. “NO!” he screamed, “You can't have her, you fuckers! You hear me? You can't have her!”
JediPoet turned, and begin kicking and stomping the zombie that was crawling up from behind him. He kept kicking and kicking, all the while crying, and screaming in despair for the loss of the love of his life. Running back to Christine he lifted her into his arms, and carried her back into the hallway, stepping carefully over the corpse that Christene had only prepared herself to leap. Stepping into the room that he had only moments before been looking for a weapon in, he lied the lifeless body of Christene on the floor in the middle of the room and stepped back to the door and pushed it shut.
The moaning and groaning of zombies was growing louder beyond the room as they drew closer to the door.
JediPoet pressed his back against the door and fell to the floor his eyes fixed on the body of Christene who had grown quite pale in such a short amount of time. His head fell back against the door, and he stared at the ceiling still crying. His eyes moved across a attic door in the opposite corner of the room.
Sniffling his nose, he spoke. “Come on baby, that's our way out of here.”
He climbed to his feet and crossed the room, staring up at the door above him that lay just beyond his reach, even with his arm outstretched.
“Oh yea, I remember: short and fat.” he said in a dry tone.
He stepped back a few steps and then forward jumping up at the same time outreached arms to try and grasp a small silver ring that hung from the attic door, laughing in his face. He continued to try and jump for the ring, feeling it graze his middle finger. Stepping even further back, he concentrated his eyes on the target and started. His arms outstretched, he felt his index finger pass through the ring that had eluded him. Then suddenly time stopped as he felt fingers grip his leg.
JediPoet hit the ground hard, landing on his back. The scream that emerged from his throat was inhuman, wrenched in pain. He had fallen free of the grip of Christene, however he had also fallen free of his finger which was still secured inside of the ring attached to the attic door.
Pressing his wounded hand tightly in the palm of his other, blood flowed freely staining the once white carpet. He pushed himself up with his elbows, barely noticing his former fiancé crawling toward him. JediPoet quickly scooted himself backward by pushing himself off with his feet and keeping balance with his hands, wincing in pain every time he did so.
Christene was crawling on her stomach just as quickly as JediPoet was scooting backward, her hands slamming down hard against the bloodsoaked carpet, landing in between his legs moments before he could back up, inches closer with each hunger-fuelled lunge.
Leaving a trail of blood along his right side from his hand as he scooted backward, Poet was running out of room, quickly realizing this fact when he slammed his four-fingered hand into the wall behind him. Christene, however, had plenty of room remaining. Latching onto his shirt, she pulled herself up to eye level with JediPoet. Her eyes were a dark shade of gray; her pupils faded and milky. She opened her mouth and leaned forward to devour that man that was once to be her husband.
Poet's back against the wall, he placed his hands on Christene's face and pushed against her using the wall as leverage. Blood from the open wound of his former finger poured down the face of his undead lover. Christene did not have the leverage he was gifted with, so she was not difficult to keep at bay. However, she posed no less of a threat as she was still just as flesh-hungry as ever.
JediPoet was choking back tears, unable to speak. Cries of despair were all that would emerge from his mouth, regardless of forethought. Sweat was pouring from his face, and he was beginning to grow pale from the amount of blood that still pulsed from the wound which continually flowed over the face of his once beloved.
Suddenly, JediPoet noticed banging on the door from the other side. He couldn't tell if it had only just started, or if it had merely gone unnoticed amidst the chaos of his seemingly inescapable prison. The door was to his immediate right, he noticed, which was slightly uncomfortable with considering the current odds of survival that seemed to already be very much against him.
In one last effort, JediPoet forced Christene to slide backwards, falling in front of the door that was being pounded on by an untold number of walking dead. As quickly as he could, he got to his feet and ran for the other side of the room. Leaping into the air with his left arm stretched into the air, he heard the door behind him burst open. Grabbing onto his recently divorced index finger, he held on for dear life as a set of ladder-like stairs swiftly fell from the previously unreachable door.
The door to the bedroom hit Christene who was trying to get to her feet, and knocked her down again. A number of animated corpses fell through onto the floor only to be trampled by the many other hungry, moaning corpses behind them.
JediPoet, who was nearly taken out by the stairs that emerged from the ceiling, recovered his finger from the ringed handle and stuffed it into the pocket of his shorts. He then began to climb into the attic, looking into the opposite side of the room where he saw Christine getting to her feet. He paid no attention to the countless zombies that were passed her in search of a meal, but stared only at her as he climbed the stairs. Poet's head finally broke into the darkness above the ceiling, and sight of her was lost. He pulled himself into the attic, turning and grabbing the rope that was attached to bottom set of stairs, pulling each ladder-like step back up in the order in which they fell.
As the door shut, he was cast into complete darkness, trapped in the attic, like an animal; a prisoner of his own home.
Mojave Desert, California. United States.
Lips splintered and bleeding, NSA_Phoenix walked alone through the baron desert. Blood running down his face and into his eyes, which surveyed the area nervously, Phoenix was struggling to keep his mind. Hours of walking in the desolate heat of the Mojave, and the events that occurred only hours earlier, made it feel possible to believe anything. Mirages and hallucinations of the undead following close behind forced Phoenix to walk as fast as he could in the blistering heat.
The world around him slowly began to twist and turn, and dizziness followed. The bloody baseball bat that was barely clenched in his finger tips was dragging against the ground. The bat fell free from his loose grip, and Phoenix fell face first into the hot compacted earth beneath him. His breathing heavy and sporadic, His mind began to play tricks on him as he thought he began to hear the sounds of shuffling feet approaching from all sides of him. The stinging mixture of sweat and blood inside the wound on his forehead reminded him that he was not dreaming. His heartbeat loud and heavy, and everything beginning to fade, he was left unconscious and unprotected on the desert floor.
Pasadena, California. United States.
(six hours earlier)
"We are all staying here until this blows over, you hear me?" said NSA_Phoenix's father. "We are much safer here within the confines of our own home."
"Dad, please listen to me! We have to get the hell out of here. The borders have been sealed, but there are still places we can go before it gets here. My friends have a plan, and some of them know a lot about what is going on." argued Phoenix.
"Honey, please just do what your father tells you. Everything will be okay." soothed his mother, "Your sisters will be here soon and we will all be together."
"When last I looked, I was the head of this household, not a bunch of computer nerds who live in bum-fuck Egypt. Now I am not going to tell you one more fucking time, grab some boards and start securing the windows."
"Yes sir." Phoenix said, walking upstairs to his bedroom, where he then slammed the door behind him.
Phoenix quickly grabbed his book bag, in which he stuffed the items he knew he would need. He didn't waste time thinking about what he needed; he knew if he had to question it, it was pointless. Too many items would only serve to slow him down.
He didn't know what to expect, but heeded the words of those Comic Book Movie Family members who had encountered the approaching threat. It seemed that the enemy was quick at times and slow at others. There was no room for questions, and even less for risks or chance; he had to survive.
Phoenix grabbed his wooden baseball bat that he had modified with the large nails given to him to board up his windows. The nails were hammered into the business end of the bat, and notched to give it the most deadly potential. He threw the bat into his book bag, along with his copy of The Zombie Survival Guide, his cell phone, and other essential items collected earlier.
"We have wasted enough time dealing with his bullshit. We could have been so far away by now, but fuck no: it's his way or the highway. Well that choice is easy for me."
Opening his window, he looked down to the ground and surveyed the area. He then put one leg through the window and placed his foot on a small hollowed out ledge used for plants. Below that was a wooden fence that travelled up the side of the house, with green vines weaving in and out of the openings that would be used as footing. Lifting his second foot carefully out of the window, NSA_Phoenix felt the house shake, accompanied by a loud crashing noise, quickly followed by the shrill scream of his mother.
More screams were heard coming from downstairs but were not understandable. However, it didn't take a brain surgeon to know what was going on. Phoenix remained motionless for what seemed like forever, his mind racing with options: go and help his family, risking his own life against the advice of his friends in the CBM Family; or cut his losses and leave. He thought of the sacrifices many of the other family members have already been through, and knew that no one had it easy.
"I'm sorry." Phoenix whispered to himself.
As he moved to place his foot on the wooden fence to climb down the side of the house, his door burst open, splintering at the hinges. Phoenix's mother fell forward onto her face from the force at which she impacted the door, but quickly got to her feet to focus in on her son who was clearly visible outside of the window. Her shirt had been torn off, her ribcage clearly visible through the large amount of flesh missing from her torso, along with a bloody mass of organs underneath. His father was soon to follow quickly behind. Both of the now undead parents charged the window simultaneously, causing Phoenix to climb down as fast possible. Losing what little footing he had, he quickly found himself making his way to the ground much faster than expected. Meeting the hard the ground with a loud thud, Phoenix's head missed the sharp notches on the baseball bat by a matter of inches.
Dizzy and confused, Phoenix got to his feet as fast as he could. Stumbling away from where he landed, he leaned up against a tree and felt the back of his head, relieved to find he was not bleeding. Behind him he heard a thump and knew he had to move quickly. Phoenix ran to the front of the house, but not before hearing another loud thump. Looking back, he saw that his zombie mother had landed on his father, which he hoped would buy more time.
Rounding the corner to the front of the house, he saw what looked like his sister's car crashed into the living room, but was surprised to see that no one was around it. Treading lightly, he walked closer to the car to get a better look. There was a hole in the driver's side window, and the windshield was covered in blood. Walking closer, he saw the body of his sister strewn across the hood of the car. Quickly turning, he fought the urge to throw up.
Behind Phoenix, the reanimated parents rounded the corner and set their sights on their son and began to salivate heavily. A low gurgle erupted from their throats, which soon turned into an inhuman growl.
Phoenix, still holding back the urge to vomit, saw his parents in the corner of his eye, and reached over his shoulder to grab the bat from his backpack. The handle of the baseball bat was covered with grip tape used for skateboards, fashioned around the lower portion of the bat.
His parents began to sprint at him in unison, and Phoenix stepped back to gain his balance. Drawing the baseball bat back, he prepared to swing. As soon as the opportunity opened, reflex kicked in and the bat became in motion. The club smacked the side of his mothers skull, the spikes swiftly breaking through the thick bone barrier. Attempting to pull the bat back for another swing, Phoenix was unable to remove it from the head of his victim. His father still fast approaching, he turned with the bat still in hand, forcing his mother to turn as well. He then pulled as hard as he could, the bat sliding free along with shards of skull and brain matter. The nails at the end of the bat were now clinging to chunks of human flesh and hair.
His mother fell down hard, her body twitching with a gaping whole in her head. The father paid no mind to the fact that his wife was just cut down, and was lying lifeless on the ground before him. Instead, he continued to charge full-force at his son.
Phoenix drew back again and swung; the bat smacked the lower jaw of his father. The sound of shattering teeth and bone was accompanied by a spray of blood that splattered against Phoenix's torso and neck. The creature was sent falling backwards, yet Phoenix only continued to swing. He was now standing above his zombified father, who was flailing around trying to grasp any part of his son to consume. Phoenix began to swing away at the the zombies face. Blood and gore covered his clothing, however he showed no signs of stopping. Blow after blow was sent into the face of Phoenix's undead father, until nothing was left but a puddle of blood, shards of bone, teeth, and brain matter.
Turning to face the car again, Phoenix found himself being charged by another zombie that appeared to have come from inside of his house. This time however he was not prepared, and he was forced onto his back. Fending off the reanimated corpse of what appeared to be his sister's boyfriend. The zombie was on top of Phoenix with his mouth wide open, biting into the baseball bat. Phoenix fought to gain what little leverage he could, and rolled himself on top of the attacker. The infested boyfriend of his sister still biting into the bat, Phoenix began to push the weapon downward, forcing the creature's jaws to widen. Putting the entirety of his weight on the bat, he heard several snaps as the jaws collapsed and he pushed through the throat and down to spine. Still pushing with all his strength, he found himself screaming as he finally heard a final snap of the spinal chord, and the body beneath him went limp.
Phoenix, covered in blood and sweat, got to his feet and stepped to the sidewalk outside of his home. His head still throbbing, he started to walk up the street. His fist gripping the the bat that was covered in blood, and now bite marks. Walking down the street, Phoenix looked behind him to see a number of undead sprinting, some of which seemed to come from neighboring houses. Phoenix quickly broke into a sprint of his own.
He ran through the streets, breathing so heavily that every time his foot hit the ground in front he released what sounded like a small whimper. While running for his life, Phoenix noticed zombies devouring people in their yards; crashed cars; people screaming from within their houses. One woman was pulling on her husbands feet as his head was being gnawed on. As he approached an intersection, a car came speeding through, barely missing him, and crashing into a light pole and flipping further down the street. The light pole came crashing down, landing on a parked car.
Looking behind him, Phoenix noticed that fewer zombies were giving chase: it seemed that many had left to prey on easier victims. Turning left down a street, sweat was pouring down his face, his head continued to throb from the fall from his second story window. Taking another left, he ran further. Looking back again, he was relieved to see that he was no longer being chased. Slowing his pace, he turned forward, but was confronted with a wooden board that impacted his forehead, sending him backwards onto the ground.
Phoenix got to his knees, his head throbbing much more than before, and his vision now blurred; it would seem that he was bleeding as well. He was sent to the ground again when the board impacted his back, sending a sharp pain up his spine and into his back.
The man wielding the makeshift weapon swung madly down at Phoenix, shouting words that were incoherent and mad. Phoenix, tried to speak, but every time words bubbled in his throat, he was struck again, turning his words into cries of pain. Still gripping his baseball bat, Phoenix swung with as much force as he could. The bat smacked the man's ankle, bringing him screaming to the ground at the same level of Phoenix. However, his swings continued.
The mans eyes were bloodshot, filled with animalistic fury as well as a confusion unmistakably human. His hands that gripped the board were covered in blood. Phoenix rolled away from the man and pushed himself up to his knees. His ribs bruised, mouth and forehead bleeding, he brought the bat back behind his head.
“You mother fucker! I am not a God damned zombie!” Phoenix shouted as he sent the bat crashing down into the mans throat. The man spat blood into the air and gurgled what would have been screams as another blow struck side of his ear.
Stumbling to his feet, Phoenix looked down at the man's body, and saw what looked like a child standing a few feet away. The child's eyes were swollen with tears, staring at the lifeless body of what was probably his father. Phoenix ignored the kid and started to limp forward down the street. He knew he wasn't far from the edge of town.
“This road is too quiet, I wonder where it leads.” Phoenix muttered to himself, his voice stiff and cracking, as he continued to limp down the street. He held his eyes on the unseen goal, all that was behind him fading into bitter memory.
(one week after Zero Hour)
The glow of the computer monitor illuminating the cold, empty basement he called ‘home’, Baraxis closed the game window after a long session of Guild Wars. He blinked a few times, rubbed his eyes, and looked down at the computer clock in the bottom corner of his monitor.
“Fuck, three-thirty?” he whispered, closing down all of his open programs and windows. He shut down his computer, hit the switch in the back, and slowly walked over to his ‘room’, pulling off his clothes and sliding into a pair of pajama bottoms.
Feeling antsy, Baraxis approached his stereo and turned on the radio, the news offering a calming ambiance amidst the vast darkness that haunted the open basement. Despite his age, he was still a little afraid of the dark. He dashed over to his bed and curled into the warm blankets, closing his eyes and drifting into a dreamless sleep.
Sunlight burst through the tiny windows that surrounded his room, Baraxis grunted and pulled the covers over his face. He realized he would not be able to get back to sleep, and pulled off the blankets. He slid his legs off the side, and stood from his bed, stretching. He turned to the stereo, which read 1:20pm. Realizing he left the radio on, he listened closely: Soft static floated from the speakers. He approached the stereo, curiously, and turned it off.
“Hmph. Weird…” Baraxis grunted, scratching his head and approaching his computer, switching it on. He turned and walked to the stairs, and began to climb. As he reached the top of the stairs, he noticed the TV on, suffering from what seemed to be the same static as his radio. He grabbed the controller and fiddled around, trying to fix the television; nothing worked. He gave up after a couple seconds of frustration, turned off the TV, and threw the controller into the couch.
“Fucking kids. Where the hell are they, anyway?” he murmured, examining the apparently empty house, a very open design. “Must’ve gone out…” he said, as he walked past the mudroom and over to the garage door. He opened it, and noticed both vehicles sitting in their rightful places. “The hell?” he said, confused. Turning, he noticed a figure move past the mudroom door.
“Mackenzie?” Baraxis called, hesitantly. He walked out of the mudroom, examining the hallway for the movement he had thought he just saw. There was nothing. “Fuckin’ weird.” He murmured.
He walked back out into the open great-room, still searching for some sign of life. Approaching his parents’ bedroom door, he noticed that it was closed. He knocked on the large doors, and called “I need some clothes from the laundry room… can I come in?”
He waited for an answer; there was nothing. “Fuck, whatever.” He murmured again as he turned and began to walk down the stairs. He approached his computer once in the basement, and began to log in. Hearing a creak on the stairs, he stopped.
“It’s too early to scare me mom... did you bring some clothes?” he called out. The slow shuffling on the stairs continued. Baraxis turned back and finished typing in his password, logging in. He left his computer to boot, and approached the stairs. Stopping abruptly, he was unable to comprehend what he saw standing halfway down the stairs.
His mother stood completely motionless, her clothes torn and blood-soaked. Her left hand was missing a few fingers, and clutched in her right was the severed arm of a child. Her dark, lifeless eyes locked on her son standing at the bottom of the stairs; she began shuffling once again, hungrily approaching him. She dropped the arm that was tightly clutched in her hand.
Baraxis backed away, tripping over the unpacked boxes that cluttered the corner of the basement. Air escaped his lungs, but there was no sound; he was confused and frightened. He pulled himself up and continued to back away toward his room. His mother had reached the basement floor, and continued to follow him. Baraxis's mind raced with the disturbing thought of what would have to be done.
As he approached his corner of the basement, He examined his unpacked belongings for some sort of defence. The creature that was once his mother staggered to his room, only a few feet from her frightened child. In desperation, he grabbed his bass guitar from its stand, and stood ready. His eyes locked on hers once again, in search of some flicker of life; nothing.
"Oh god, mom... no." he choked, as the inevitability of his situation became quite vivid.
She drew closer, reaching out for her son: merely fresh meat in her undead eyes. I love you so much mom… Baraxis thought to himself. He veered back and swung the instrument, connecting with the side of his undead mother’s skull. She fell to the ground with a soft thud, her head cracked and bloody.
“I’m... so sorry mom.” Baraxis whimpered, lowering the bloodstained bass to the ground. He stumbled back, and took a seat on his bed. His face dropped into his hands. His eyes began to swell as he tried to cry: There were no tears.
Baraxis heard another sound from atop the stairs. Standing up quickly, he returned to his boxes, rummaging through in search of a more wieldable weapon. At last, he came across his brother’s katana, left behind when he moved out to BC many months earlier.
“Thanks bro...” he chuckled, attempting to mask his fear and sorrow. Baraxis unsheathed the weapon and readied himself. Out from the bottom of the stairs appeared a small child: his sister, Danielle. A second soon appeared behind her: Mackenzie, his brother.
Baraxis’s eyes widened as his siblings came into clear view. Mackenzie’s left arm had been torn off, and it looked as though something had eaten a large chunk of his neck. Danielle’s face was mangled, almost unrecognizable, and a large gash on her side flapped open with each staggering step.
“Oh dear christ!” he whimpered, overwhelmed by the sight of his kin in such a state. They slowly lurched toward their older brother, mindless and bloodthirsty. “What the fuck?!” Baraxis squealed.
The two continued their slow pursuit of their prey. Each passing second tortured Baraxis with the growing thought that he would soon have to kill his younger siblings, despite them already being dead. The blade in his hand felt heavy; unmovable. His face hurt, but yet again the tears were absent.
Finally, Baraxis lifted the sword once again, knowing what must be done. He glared into the cloudy eyes of his former siblings; staring down death. A loud cry escaped his lungs; almost animalistic. He ran forward, blind with fury, and pulled the blade down, slashing through meat and bone. Blood was splattered everywhere, but he didn’t blink.
Baraxis awoke from his inhuman rage, the blade in his hand dripping with blood; his clothes were drenched. On the floor laid the bodies of two small children, mutilated and headless. Next to his dead mother rested the heads. Baraxis dropped the blade and raised his blood-soaked hands, staring at them in disgust and disbelief.
From upstairs came a growl, soon followed by yelp, seeming to come from a dog. Baraxis dropped his hands and looked to the sound. He reached down to pick up his weapon, and walked to the stairs.
He climbed slowly, tightly gripping the blade in one hand, and the railing in the other. When he reached the top of the stairs, he heard another yelp; it was coming from his parents’ room. He turned and pushed the doors open. Inside, he saw his dad pinning his dog to the bed, eating away at the still-living puppy. Baraxis gagged, and coughed.
His father quickly turned his head, and stared at the boy. He stood, leaving the half-devoured dog on the bed, twitching. He began to walk toward Baraxis, his eyes just as dark and cloudy as the others’. His mouth was dripping with fresh canine blood, though it was obvious that he craved a far more human meal.
Baraxis backed away from the doors. “No dad... Please!” he said, still gagging. He stared deep into his dad’s eyes; there was nothing left of the man who raised him. Though just Baraxis’s stepfather, he was more of a father than any other.
Baraxis stopped as his back met the wall. The creature that was once his dad continued to approach him, blood dripping from his chin. The famine in his eyes was difficult to comprehend.
Baraxis raised his weapon. “I... I love you dad.” he whispered. The creature's eyes opened wide as he groaned with hunger. Baraxis stepped forward and swung the blade. It sliced through his dad’s neck, but stopped abruptly when it hit the spine.
“Fuck!” he cried, his wrist strained. He pulled the blade from the wound, and his dad groaned once again. Baraxis pushed the zombie back slightly, and backed away a few steps. Gripped the sword tightly, he readied himself once again. This is not your dad anymore, he reminded himself. He widened his eyes, and swung the sword at the undead parent standing before him. The blade sliced swiftly though the zombie’s neck, and its head dropped to the floor with a loud thud.
Baraxis stumbled back to the wall, staring at his stepfather’s headless body lying on the floor. His back slid along the wall until he met with the floor. His face swelled up once again, but the tears could not escape. The blade fell from his hand.
After a few minutes, Baraxis stood and grabbed the sword on the floor. He turned and ran down the stairs, wiping the blade with his shirt. He trotted over to the mini-fridge, opened it, and grabbed the bottle of Jack sitting on the shelf. He removed the cap, took a swig, and headed for his computer. He rested the blade against the desk, easily accessible should he need to use it again.
Sitting at his computer again, bottle of Jack in hand, Baraxis knew he had to be quick and try to find out what was going on. Most of all, he needed to warn his friends; after all, they were the only “family” he had left.
Aurora, Colorado. United States.
“Just run toward me and jump over it!” JediPoet said to his fiancé. She was separated from him, now blocked by a creature of merely hunger and death.
The zombie flopped around in the hallway, leaving marks of death on the floor and walls. His legs were severed, but the remaining bloody nubs kicked into the air as it tried to regain whatever composure it once had. Finally, it set its sight on the girl screaming at the end of the hall.
“I can't, oh my god! Please do something.” she screamed at the top of her lungs. Tears streamed down her face.
JediPoet opened the door to his left and ran in looking for anything he could use to end the undead life of the zombie that threatened the life of his beloved Christene. As he ran toward the closet to search it's contents he heard the sound of shattering glass and then a loud scream that could only be coming from one person. Abandoning his search for a weapon, he ran back into the hallway, where he witnessed an army of undead making their way into the house through the windows.
“Christene!” he shouted to divert her attention from the windows to him. “you are going to have to do this, for me baby. Come on, just run and jump, you can do it.
“I can't.” She said, her voice shaking.
“Yes you can, I wouldn't ask you to do it if I didn't think that you could.”
“Okay... I'll try.”
Christene stared at the hallway for a few minutes as if preparing her mind for the jump.
“Baby, I love you...” She said it as if it was the last time she would utter the words.
Christene stepped backwards to and then lunged forward. Christene's head was quickly jerked backward as one of the undead had crept up behind her and grabbed her hair. As she ran forward, it's grip remained. Christene fell to the ground, and the reanimated piled on top of her.
“CHRISTENE!” Poet screamed, running down the hallway, leaping over the zombie making its way toward the others. “Get off of her you swine!” He shouted, as he began to throw the zombies aside.
The creatures continued to pour into the house, their numbers outside vastly outnumbering those inside.
Christene's eyes stared up at JediPoet. Her stare: blank and lifeless. Her neck and shoulder had been ripped into by the living corpses that had piled onto her. Blood was pouring from the open wound on her neck, but was coagulating quickly. Her breathes turned into gasps, gasps into gurgles, and gurgles into nothing.
JediPoet stared at his fiancé's lifeless face for a few moments before realizing what it was that he was witnessing. Tears started to stream down his face; a feeling travelled down his throat into his stomach that made him feel dead and alone all at once.
“No...” JediPoet whispered, to no one but himself. “NO!” he screamed, “You can't have her, you fuckers! You hear me? You can't have her!”
JediPoet turned, and begin kicking and stomping the zombie that was crawling up from behind him. He kept kicking and kicking, all the while crying, and screaming in despair for the loss of the love of his life. Running back to Christine he lifted her into his arms, and carried her back into the hallway, stepping carefully over the corpse that Christene had only prepared herself to leap. Stepping into the room that he had only moments before been looking for a weapon in, he lied the lifeless body of Christene on the floor in the middle of the room and stepped back to the door and pushed it shut.
The moaning and groaning of zombies was growing louder beyond the room as they drew closer to the door.
JediPoet pressed his back against the door and fell to the floor his eyes fixed on the body of Christene who had grown quite pale in such a short amount of time. His head fell back against the door, and he stared at the ceiling still crying. His eyes moved across a attic door in the opposite corner of the room.
Sniffling his nose, he spoke. “Come on baby, that's our way out of here.”
He climbed to his feet and crossed the room, staring up at the door above him that lay just beyond his reach, even with his arm outstretched.
“Oh yea, I remember: short and fat.” he said in a dry tone.
He stepped back a few steps and then forward jumping up at the same time outreached arms to try and grasp a small silver ring that hung from the attic door, laughing in his face. He continued to try and jump for the ring, feeling it graze his middle finger. Stepping even further back, he concentrated his eyes on the target and started. His arms outstretched, he felt his index finger pass through the ring that had eluded him. Then suddenly time stopped as he felt fingers grip his leg.
JediPoet hit the ground hard, landing on his back. The scream that emerged from his throat was inhuman, wrenched in pain. He had fallen free of the grip of Christene, however he had also fallen free of his finger which was still secured inside of the ring attached to the attic door.
Pressing his wounded hand tightly in the palm of his other, blood flowed freely staining the once white carpet. He pushed himself up with his elbows, barely noticing his former fiancé crawling toward him. JediPoet quickly scooted himself backward by pushing himself off with his feet and keeping balance with his hands, wincing in pain every time he did so.
Christene was crawling on her stomach just as quickly as JediPoet was scooting backward, her hands slamming down hard against the bloodsoaked carpet, landing in between his legs moments before he could back up, inches closer with each hunger-fuelled lunge.
Leaving a trail of blood along his right side from his hand as he scooted backward, Poet was running out of room, quickly realizing this fact when he slammed his four-fingered hand into the wall behind him. Christene, however, had plenty of room remaining. Latching onto his shirt, she pulled herself up to eye level with JediPoet. Her eyes were a dark shade of gray; her pupils faded and milky. She opened her mouth and leaned forward to devour that man that was once to be her husband.
Poet's back against the wall, he placed his hands on Christene's face and pushed against her using the wall as leverage. Blood from the open wound of his former finger poured down the face of his undead lover. Christene did not have the leverage he was gifted with, so she was not difficult to keep at bay. However, she posed no less of a threat as she was still just as flesh-hungry as ever.
JediPoet was choking back tears, unable to speak. Cries of despair were all that would emerge from his mouth, regardless of forethought. Sweat was pouring from his face, and he was beginning to grow pale from the amount of blood that still pulsed from the wound which continually flowed over the face of his once beloved.
Suddenly, JediPoet noticed banging on the door from the other side. He couldn't tell if it had only just started, or if it had merely gone unnoticed amidst the chaos of his seemingly inescapable prison. The door was to his immediate right, he noticed, which was slightly uncomfortable with considering the current odds of survival that seemed to already be very much against him.
In one last effort, JediPoet forced Christene to slide backwards, falling in front of the door that was being pounded on by an untold number of walking dead. As quickly as he could, he got to his feet and ran for the other side of the room. Leaping into the air with his left arm stretched into the air, he heard the door behind him burst open. Grabbing onto his recently divorced index finger, he held on for dear life as a set of ladder-like stairs swiftly fell from the previously unreachable door.
The door to the bedroom hit Christene who was trying to get to her feet, and knocked her down again. A number of animated corpses fell through onto the floor only to be trampled by the many other hungry, moaning corpses behind them.
JediPoet, who was nearly taken out by the stairs that emerged from the ceiling, recovered his finger from the ringed handle and stuffed it into the pocket of his shorts. He then began to climb into the attic, looking into the opposite side of the room where he saw Christine getting to her feet. He paid no attention to the countless zombies that were passed her in search of a meal, but stared only at her as he climbed the stairs. Poet's head finally broke into the darkness above the ceiling, and sight of her was lost. He pulled himself into the attic, turning and grabbing the rope that was attached to bottom set of stairs, pulling each ladder-like step back up in the order in which they fell.
As the door shut, he was cast into complete darkness, trapped in the attic, like an animal; a prisoner of his own home.
Mojave Desert, California. United States.
Lips splintered and bleeding, NSA_Phoenix walked alone through the baron desert. Blood running down his face and into his eyes, which surveyed the area nervously, Phoenix was struggling to keep his mind. Hours of walking in the desolate heat of the Mojave, and the events that occurred only hours earlier, made it feel possible to believe anything. Mirages and hallucinations of the undead following close behind forced Phoenix to walk as fast as he could in the blistering heat.
The world around him slowly began to twist and turn, and dizziness followed. The bloody baseball bat that was barely clenched in his finger tips was dragging against the ground. The bat fell free from his loose grip, and Phoenix fell face first into the hot compacted earth beneath him. His breathing heavy and sporadic, His mind began to play tricks on him as he thought he began to hear the sounds of shuffling feet approaching from all sides of him. The stinging mixture of sweat and blood inside the wound on his forehead reminded him that he was not dreaming. His heartbeat loud and heavy, and everything beginning to fade, he was left unconscious and unprotected on the desert floor.
Pasadena, California. United States.
(six hours earlier)
"We are all staying here until this blows over, you hear me?" said NSA_Phoenix's father. "We are much safer here within the confines of our own home."
"Dad, please listen to me! We have to get the hell out of here. The borders have been sealed, but there are still places we can go before it gets here. My friends have a plan, and some of them know a lot about what is going on." argued Phoenix.
"Honey, please just do what your father tells you. Everything will be okay." soothed his mother, "Your sisters will be here soon and we will all be together."
"When last I looked, I was the head of this household, not a bunch of computer nerds who live in bum-fuck Egypt. Now I am not going to tell you one more fucking time, grab some boards and start securing the windows."
"Yes sir." Phoenix said, walking upstairs to his bedroom, where he then slammed the door behind him.
Phoenix quickly grabbed his book bag, in which he stuffed the items he knew he would need. He didn't waste time thinking about what he needed; he knew if he had to question it, it was pointless. Too many items would only serve to slow him down.
He didn't know what to expect, but heeded the words of those Comic Book Movie Family members who had encountered the approaching threat. It seemed that the enemy was quick at times and slow at others. There was no room for questions, and even less for risks or chance; he had to survive.
Phoenix grabbed his wooden baseball bat that he had modified with the large nails given to him to board up his windows. The nails were hammered into the business end of the bat, and notched to give it the most deadly potential. He threw the bat into his book bag, along with his copy of The Zombie Survival Guide, his cell phone, and other essential items collected earlier.
"We have wasted enough time dealing with his bullshit. We could have been so far away by now, but fuck no: it's his way or the highway. Well that choice is easy for me."
Opening his window, he looked down to the ground and surveyed the area. He then put one leg through the window and placed his foot on a small hollowed out ledge used for plants. Below that was a wooden fence that travelled up the side of the house, with green vines weaving in and out of the openings that would be used as footing. Lifting his second foot carefully out of the window, NSA_Phoenix felt the house shake, accompanied by a loud crashing noise, quickly followed by the shrill scream of his mother.
More screams were heard coming from downstairs but were not understandable. However, it didn't take a brain surgeon to know what was going on. Phoenix remained motionless for what seemed like forever, his mind racing with options: go and help his family, risking his own life against the advice of his friends in the CBM Family; or cut his losses and leave. He thought of the sacrifices many of the other family members have already been through, and knew that no one had it easy.
"I'm sorry." Phoenix whispered to himself.
As he moved to place his foot on the wooden fence to climb down the side of the house, his door burst open, splintering at the hinges. Phoenix's mother fell forward onto her face from the force at which she impacted the door, but quickly got to her feet to focus in on her son who was clearly visible outside of the window. Her shirt had been torn off, her ribcage clearly visible through the large amount of flesh missing from her torso, along with a bloody mass of organs underneath. His father was soon to follow quickly behind. Both of the now undead parents charged the window simultaneously, causing Phoenix to climb down as fast possible. Losing what little footing he had, he quickly found himself making his way to the ground much faster than expected. Meeting the hard the ground with a loud thud, Phoenix's head missed the sharp notches on the baseball bat by a matter of inches.
Dizzy and confused, Phoenix got to his feet as fast as he could. Stumbling away from where he landed, he leaned up against a tree and felt the back of his head, relieved to find he was not bleeding. Behind him he heard a thump and knew he had to move quickly. Phoenix ran to the front of the house, but not before hearing another loud thump. Looking back, he saw that his zombie mother had landed on his father, which he hoped would buy more time.
Rounding the corner to the front of the house, he saw what looked like his sister's car crashed into the living room, but was surprised to see that no one was around it. Treading lightly, he walked closer to the car to get a better look. There was a hole in the driver's side window, and the windshield was covered in blood. Walking closer, he saw the body of his sister strewn across the hood of the car. Quickly turning, he fought the urge to throw up.
Behind Phoenix, the reanimated parents rounded the corner and set their sights on their son and began to salivate heavily. A low gurgle erupted from their throats, which soon turned into an inhuman growl.
Phoenix, still holding back the urge to vomit, saw his parents in the corner of his eye, and reached over his shoulder to grab the bat from his backpack. The handle of the baseball bat was covered with grip tape used for skateboards, fashioned around the lower portion of the bat.
His parents began to sprint at him in unison, and Phoenix stepped back to gain his balance. Drawing the baseball bat back, he prepared to swing. As soon as the opportunity opened, reflex kicked in and the bat became in motion. The club smacked the side of his mothers skull, the spikes swiftly breaking through the thick bone barrier. Attempting to pull the bat back for another swing, Phoenix was unable to remove it from the head of his victim. His father still fast approaching, he turned with the bat still in hand, forcing his mother to turn as well. He then pulled as hard as he could, the bat sliding free along with shards of skull and brain matter. The nails at the end of the bat were now clinging to chunks of human flesh and hair.
His mother fell down hard, her body twitching with a gaping whole in her head. The father paid no mind to the fact that his wife was just cut down, and was lying lifeless on the ground before him. Instead, he continued to charge full-force at his son.
Phoenix drew back again and swung; the bat smacked the lower jaw of his father. The sound of shattering teeth and bone was accompanied by a spray of blood that splattered against Phoenix's torso and neck. The creature was sent falling backwards, yet Phoenix only continued to swing. He was now standing above his zombified father, who was flailing around trying to grasp any part of his son to consume. Phoenix began to swing away at the the zombies face. Blood and gore covered his clothing, however he showed no signs of stopping. Blow after blow was sent into the face of Phoenix's undead father, until nothing was left but a puddle of blood, shards of bone, teeth, and brain matter.
Turning to face the car again, Phoenix found himself being charged by another zombie that appeared to have come from inside of his house. This time however he was not prepared, and he was forced onto his back. Fending off the reanimated corpse of what appeared to be his sister's boyfriend. The zombie was on top of Phoenix with his mouth wide open, biting into the baseball bat. Phoenix fought to gain what little leverage he could, and rolled himself on top of the attacker. The infested boyfriend of his sister still biting into the bat, Phoenix began to push the weapon downward, forcing the creature's jaws to widen. Putting the entirety of his weight on the bat, he heard several snaps as the jaws collapsed and he pushed through the throat and down to spine. Still pushing with all his strength, he found himself screaming as he finally heard a final snap of the spinal chord, and the body beneath him went limp.
Phoenix, covered in blood and sweat, got to his feet and stepped to the sidewalk outside of his home. His head still throbbing, he started to walk up the street. His fist gripping the the bat that was covered in blood, and now bite marks. Walking down the street, Phoenix looked behind him to see a number of undead sprinting, some of which seemed to come from neighboring houses. Phoenix quickly broke into a sprint of his own.
He ran through the streets, breathing so heavily that every time his foot hit the ground in front he released what sounded like a small whimper. While running for his life, Phoenix noticed zombies devouring people in their yards; crashed cars; people screaming from within their houses. One woman was pulling on her husbands feet as his head was being gnawed on. As he approached an intersection, a car came speeding through, barely missing him, and crashing into a light pole and flipping further down the street. The light pole came crashing down, landing on a parked car.
Looking behind him, Phoenix noticed that fewer zombies were giving chase: it seemed that many had left to prey on easier victims. Turning left down a street, sweat was pouring down his face, his head continued to throb from the fall from his second story window. Taking another left, he ran further. Looking back again, he was relieved to see that he was no longer being chased. Slowing his pace, he turned forward, but was confronted with a wooden board that impacted his forehead, sending him backwards onto the ground.
Phoenix got to his knees, his head throbbing much more than before, and his vision now blurred; it would seem that he was bleeding as well. He was sent to the ground again when the board impacted his back, sending a sharp pain up his spine and into his back.
The man wielding the makeshift weapon swung madly down at Phoenix, shouting words that were incoherent and mad. Phoenix, tried to speak, but every time words bubbled in his throat, he was struck again, turning his words into cries of pain. Still gripping his baseball bat, Phoenix swung with as much force as he could. The bat smacked the man's ankle, bringing him screaming to the ground at the same level of Phoenix. However, his swings continued.
The mans eyes were bloodshot, filled with animalistic fury as well as a confusion unmistakably human. His hands that gripped the board were covered in blood. Phoenix rolled away from the man and pushed himself up to his knees. His ribs bruised, mouth and forehead bleeding, he brought the bat back behind his head.
“You mother fucker! I am not a God damned zombie!” Phoenix shouted as he sent the bat crashing down into the mans throat. The man spat blood into the air and gurgled what would have been screams as another blow struck side of his ear.
Stumbling to his feet, Phoenix looked down at the man's body, and saw what looked like a child standing a few feet away. The child's eyes were swollen with tears, staring at the lifeless body of what was probably his father. Phoenix ignored the kid and started to limp forward down the street. He knew he wasn't far from the edge of town.
“This road is too quiet, I wonder where it leads.” Phoenix muttered to himself, his voice stiff and cracking, as he continued to limp down the street. He held his eyes on the unseen goal, all that was behind him fading into bitter memory.
Canadian Forces Base. Petawawa, Ontario. Canada.
"Perimeter Breach! All available armed units report to the entrance of the Medical Center immediately!" Commander Rundle's voice rang out over the loud speaker. The order was repeated 3 more times, and the speakers fell silent.
Gunfire and screams were the only sounds heard coming from inside of the medical station. However, the gunfire stopped and soon only screaming remained; then, nothing.
Private John Millar ran to join those standing a few meters from the entrance of the facility, placing his gun at the ready. “What the fuck is going on?" he asked the soldier standing on his left.
"I don't know, everyone is talking, but no one knows anything. I heard something about a dead…"
The sound of shattering glass heard from just inside the doors interrupts the soldier in mid sentence, and everything falls silent once more.
The troops were silent. All eyes and weapons were aimed at the doors ahead. The doors finally started to open and out from behind them emerged what appeared to be a soldier indifferent from the others. He walked slowly and hunched forward as if badly injured. Confusion lay on the faces of the soldiers, as some lowered their weapons and others merely stood in bewilderment.
More soldiers slowly began to exit the building all of which had the same hunched walk. Some were covered in what appeared to be blood; faces, hands, clothes, everything.
"Murphy!" Private Millar shouted as he started running towards his friend who just exited the medical facility. Ignoring the shouts of his fellow soldiers to stop, he continued to run to his friend who appeared to be badly injured.
Coming to a complete stop in front of the crowd of soldiers, he noticed all of their attention was focused on him. All of them appeared to be badly injured, some of the injuries looked as if they would be fatal, yet here the soldiers stood staring at Private Millar.
"Private Millar: Fall back now or we will open fire on you as well!" The commanding officer ordered.
Millar turned to face the commanding officer who gave the order. "Open Fire?" He questioned. "Sir, these soldiers need medical attention."
"Fall back now Private! Those soldiers are the enemy!"
Turning to face the soldiers again, Millar was surprised to see that they were closer now than before, staring at him like a starving pack of animals. Stepping back slowly, he surveyed the soldiers looking more closely at them. Some missing their eyes, sections of their face, limbs. The realization hitting him far too late, these soldiers were no longer among the living. They were something else entirely: Zombies.
The zombies, stepping forward toward Private Millar, wanted nothing more than to devour him and feast upon his flesh.
Millar continued to step back but it was already too late. The zombies as if coordinating their attack lunged at him all at once. They pulled him to the ground and began to tear his flesh from his body. Millar's screams nearly drown out the order to open fire.
Bursts of gunfire came from some of the soldiers while others couldn't believe their eyes. The bullets didn't have the desired effect and only served to move the attention of those devouring Private Millar to those who were firing their weapons.
The zombies stood up and began approaching the soldiers. Their bodies riddled with bullets, bites and other injuries. They seemed almost impossible to bring down. If a gunshot removed a leg, the zombie would simply fall, and resort to crawling. Finally a well placed shot with the HKG3 Heavy Assault Rifle penetrated the forehead of one of the zombies, exploding out of the back. The zombie's knees hit the ground, before finally falling forward.
"Aim for the head boys!" proclaimed the soldier who made the kill shot.
The zombies' numbers fell one by one, until finally the last few were picked off.
"Reload your weapons gentleman," The commanding officer said as he began walking toward the Medical facility doors. "We are going in. Leave this filth out here for the birds."
The group of soldiers cautiously treaded the ground on which the dead zombies lay. As the final soldier passed, the zombie that was once Private Miller grabbed onto his ankle. Startled, the soldier jumped as the zombie scratched through layers of clothing, and grazed his leg. The soldier aimed his weapon, and fired a single shot into the head of the zombie; ending the creature's existence with a splatter.
The only sound heard inside of the medical facility was the shuffling of feet and the clatter of weapons. The walls riddled with bullet holes and covered in blood. Yet no dead bodies were found. Each room was checked for any possible threat, and cleared if said threat existed.
Upon completion, the order was given to report immediately for debriefing. After, the soldiers were all given two weeks of leave for their timely dedication to God, Country, and Unit. They had all seen the end of the beginning, but none of them would live to witness the beginning of the end."
"Perimeter Breach! All available armed units report to the entrance of the Medical Center immediately!" Commander Rundle's voice rang out over the loud speaker. The order was repeated 3 more times, and the speakers fell silent.
Gunfire and screams were the only sounds heard coming from inside of the medical station. However, the gunfire stopped and soon only screaming remained; then, nothing.
Private John Millar ran to join those standing a few meters from the entrance of the facility, placing his gun at the ready. “What the fuck is going on?" he asked the soldier standing on his left.
"I don't know, everyone is talking, but no one knows anything. I heard something about a dead…"
The sound of shattering glass heard from just inside the doors interrupts the soldier in mid sentence, and everything falls silent once more.
The troops were silent. All eyes and weapons were aimed at the doors ahead. The doors finally started to open and out from behind them emerged what appeared to be a soldier indifferent from the others. He walked slowly and hunched forward as if badly injured. Confusion lay on the faces of the soldiers, as some lowered their weapons and others merely stood in bewilderment.
More soldiers slowly began to exit the building all of which had the same hunched walk. Some were covered in what appeared to be blood; faces, hands, clothes, everything.
"Murphy!" Private Millar shouted as he started running towards his friend who just exited the medical facility. Ignoring the shouts of his fellow soldiers to stop, he continued to run to his friend who appeared to be badly injured.
Coming to a complete stop in front of the crowd of soldiers, he noticed all of their attention was focused on him. All of them appeared to be badly injured, some of the injuries looked as if they would be fatal, yet here the soldiers stood staring at Private Millar.
"Private Millar: Fall back now or we will open fire on you as well!" The commanding officer ordered.
Millar turned to face the commanding officer who gave the order. "Open Fire?" He questioned. "Sir, these soldiers need medical attention."
"Fall back now Private! Those soldiers are the enemy!"
Turning to face the soldiers again, Millar was surprised to see that they were closer now than before, staring at him like a starving pack of animals. Stepping back slowly, he surveyed the soldiers looking more closely at them. Some missing their eyes, sections of their face, limbs. The realization hitting him far too late, these soldiers were no longer among the living. They were something else entirely: Zombies.
The zombies, stepping forward toward Private Millar, wanted nothing more than to devour him and feast upon his flesh.
Millar continued to step back but it was already too late. The zombies as if coordinating their attack lunged at him all at once. They pulled him to the ground and began to tear his flesh from his body. Millar's screams nearly drown out the order to open fire.
Bursts of gunfire came from some of the soldiers while others couldn't believe their eyes. The bullets didn't have the desired effect and only served to move the attention of those devouring Private Millar to those who were firing their weapons.
The zombies stood up and began approaching the soldiers. Their bodies riddled with bullets, bites and other injuries. They seemed almost impossible to bring down. If a gunshot removed a leg, the zombie would simply fall, and resort to crawling. Finally a well placed shot with the HKG3 Heavy Assault Rifle penetrated the forehead of one of the zombies, exploding out of the back. The zombie's knees hit the ground, before finally falling forward.
"Aim for the head boys!" proclaimed the soldier who made the kill shot.
The zombies' numbers fell one by one, until finally the last few were picked off.
"Reload your weapons gentleman," The commanding officer said as he began walking toward the Medical facility doors. "We are going in. Leave this filth out here for the birds."
The group of soldiers cautiously treaded the ground on which the dead zombies lay. As the final soldier passed, the zombie that was once Private Miller grabbed onto his ankle. Startled, the soldier jumped as the zombie scratched through layers of clothing, and grazed his leg. The soldier aimed his weapon, and fired a single shot into the head of the zombie; ending the creature's existence with a splatter.
The only sound heard inside of the medical facility was the shuffling of feet and the clatter of weapons. The walls riddled with bullet holes and covered in blood. Yet no dead bodies were found. Each room was checked for any possible threat, and cleared if said threat existed.
Upon completion, the order was given to report immediately for debriefing. After, the soldiers were all given two weeks of leave for their timely dedication to God, Country, and Unit. They had all seen the end of the beginning, but none of them would live to witness the beginning of the end."
