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Blades11
The Damned
Posts: 2
(24/12/03 9:11 pm)
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Surviving the
Dead
This is the first in a 3 part series, tell me what you think.
Warning: Readers Discretion Is Advised.
“Surviving
the Dead.”
1
The small town of Grovers Mill sat somewhere
East, nearly forgotten by all except those who lived there. It was after
eleven and dark as most stormy night’s are, rain hammered down on the
town relentlessly accompanied by it’s usual acquaintances thunder and
lightening. It’s dull barren street’s were completely void of anything
living, all the shop’s had closed for the night and everyone was in
their warm bed’s dreaming simple dreams.
The shadowy figure stood on the outskirt’s
of the town’s eastern border looking from side to side making sure it
was clear, the black storm poncho kept his black jumpsuit and tactical gear
safe from the rain. He tilted the cap of his black battle helmet upwards
so that he could see better, seeing the coast was clear he shifted his M-16
to his right hand and brought up his flashlight pointing it down the opposite
direction of the road flicking it off and on twice.
In the distance through the falling rain a pair
of headlight’s flicked on after seeing his signal, the man put his flash
light away and took the M-16 into both arm’s once again as the truck
slowly started to drive forward. The truck came to a rustic stopped near
the town’s morgue, a one story tall concrete monstrosity with a freshly
mowed lawn with lush green grass looking almost fake. From the passengers
side another man jumped out dressed in the same manner as the signaler had
been.
The looming military figure removed his talk box from his tactical belt and
pressed down the talk button, speaking a single word.
“Mask’s.”
Hearing him over the radio the driver pulled
a gas mask up from the floor of the truck and quickly put it on, those on
the military hummer that had escorted the transport truck slid their mask’s
on too. The passenger from the transport truck slid on his gas mask moving
towards the back of the truck, he climbed onto the bed and removed a single
barrel, he set it down on the wet concrete and looked for the keypad somewhere
on it’s top.
He punched in a four digit code on the keypad
attached to the barrel and with a loud pop the top opened releasing a plume
of yellow smoke, quickly he moved to the front of the truck jumping into
the passenger’s side.
He picked up the CB radio, “GO GO GO!,” his tone was frantic and
frightened.
The transport truck quickly backed out of the morgue parking lot and sped
off towards the western exit followed by it’s escort. Unbeknownst to
the townsfolk “Operation Paperclip” had just begun…
***
Max’s tired eye’s fell upon the
cliché maroon brick school as he stepped off the trademark yellow
bus, he let out a sigh and started towards the entrance. He surrendered his
black book bag to the ape like security guard named Ben and took anything
metal out of his pockets, (a set of key’s and a CD player), and stepped
through the metal detector. It buzzed as it went off, he let out a sigh.
“I don’t have anything,” said Max annoyed.
Ben pulled open the drawer of the metal desk
he sat behind and pulled up a hand held metal detector, he moved around the
desk and Max assumed the position. He put his arm’s up as if he was
reaching for the sky, Ben waved the “wand” all around him, when
it didn’t beep he simply said, “go on.”
Max let out a sigh, even for a small town the
security was tight. He hated that, after the school shooting’s like
Columbine and Cold Spring’s they had stepped up the security at the
front door, Max grabbed his stuff off the desk and started towards the Canteen
where he and his friend’s hung out.
“Hey,” Max said to the other’s as he walked in.
A few of them were already talking and barely
acknowledged him, a few nodded their hello’s and one actually returned
his greeting. He took a seat in the corner on an aluminum folding chair plopping
his back pack down next to him. The canteen was small, very small, yet he
and his six friend’s still used it as their main “headquarters.”
It was there’s pretty much, it would’ve been if it didn’t
belong to the school.
Max looked at the watch on his wrist, “8:01 AM,” 14 minutes till
first class.
“What did you do last night?,” asked Mike.
The question came so quickly it almost knocked Max off his chair,
“uh… Nothing really. Listened to music, watched a movie…
that’s about it.”
Mike nodded and sat down on the chair next to Max, “cool… I went
to see Cher again.”
Cher was Mikes girlfriend who lived 10 miles
away at the next town, he had met her at the last basketball game when the
school’s “Wolverines” faced their “Badger’s.”
It had been a slaughter, Badger’s won twenty to nothing, Max had lost
ten dollar’s on that game. Either way, Mike had been bragging about
her for ages, though Max had half the mind to tell him she wasn’t much
to brag about… But he couldn’t do that, Mike was his best friend,
and they’d probably end up throwing punches over it. Before either could
speak another word the bell rang, 14 minutes only seemed like a couple
second’s when Max thought about it.
He stood up slinging his backpack over his shoulder, “see
ya’.”
Mike nodded as everyone exited the canteen, Mrs.
Silver, (the librarian), closed the Canteen’s door and locked it as
everyone was trying to get in to by a pop at the last minute. First class
was always a pain for Max, Mr. Reinhardt’s class, he had his mustache
shaved like Adolf Hitler, even had the same hair style, which made everyone
uncomfortable and nervous around him. A few of the kid’s had complained
about it to the principle, but nothing came of it.
“Now class, open your text book’s open to page 420,” said
Mr. Reinhardt, he taught American Civics, not really Max’s favorite
subject either, since he planned on moving to England when he turned 18.
“CODE RED! CODE RED!,” came over the intercom, a few gasp’s
and “oh my god’s” came from some of the class.
Mr. Reinhardt quickly ran over to the door and locked it, “class move
to the back of the room!”
No one argued, most rushed to the back of the
room, Max didn’t have to, he was already there. “Code Red”
had been discussed a lot by the teachers, Max had been growing sick of it.
Code red was what would be said over the intercom if someone entered the
building with a gun, teacher’s were supposed to lock their classroom
door’s and move all student’s to the back of the room. So far so
good.
“Now kid’s stay calm,” said Mr. Reinhardt who sounded as if
he was about to pass a stone.
Max wasn’t really afraid for his life like
most of the other student’s probably were, the only thing running through
his mind was “the school had it coming.” He couldn’t help
but wonder if he knew the shooter, maybe it was Ray, he hadn’t shown
up that morning… The class was quiet, too quiet, Max could hear a few
whimper’s and someone sobbing but that was it. Most were probably waiting
to hear a gunshot, Max knew that’s what he was waiting for. He hoped
it wasn’t a stupid drill, though as time passed he would wish it had
been.
In the distance, somewhere else in the school,
the sound of a blood curdling scream echoed through the hallway’s. Max
nearly jumped out of his seat when he heard it, fear was setting in now.
He had heard plenty of scream’s in his sixteen year’s of life but
never anything like that, it was a cry. A death cry.
“Jesus,” the word had escaped Max’s mouth too quick for him
to stifle it.
“Jesus had nothing to do with that, son,” Mr. Reinhardt said in
a cold emotionless tone. “That was the devil’s work.”
The word’s sent a chill down Max’s
spine as he thought about them, then again another scream broke the silence,
the sound of shattering glass and the sound’s of a man screaming in
agony were all too real. Max closed his eye’s trying to take his mind
off of now, he would’ve given anything to be elsewhere.
That’s when the pounding started. The classroom
door began to shake, with each strike every person in the classroom shook.
The moaning started shortly after, bone chilling moan’s of hunger. The
strength and pace of the strikes began to quicken, there was now more than
one person trying to get in.
“Don’t worry kid’s,” said Mr. Reinhardt. “That
door’s solid reinforced steel, they’re not going to get
in.”
Whatever held the door in place was now starting
to bend, soon the door was nearly flying open with each strike. The collective
fear in the room could be felt strongly by all. The door was struck once
more, finally swinging open in submission. Max’s eye’s snapped
open as he heard the door strike the wall, in shambled two men. The first
was tall, dressed in a suit. A burial suit. It’s face had been caked
with make up, some of which had been washed away near the mouth by blood,
his eye’s had sunken deep into the socket’s and were surrounded
by black ring’s.
The second was Ben, the security guard, or what
was left of him. His throat had been ripped out, replaced by a bloody mass
of torn tissue, crimson had drenched his blue work shirt below the neck.
A white foam dripped from the sides of his mouth which hung open loosely.
The site of both men sent the room into chaos.
One of the student’s shattered one of the
classroom window’s with a chair and climbed out, other’s took his
cue and did the same. Max climbed out one of the window’s, turning back
just in time to see Mr. Reinhardt being tackled to the floor by both men.
Max had cut his hand as he climbed out the window, but he didn’t even
care, the adrenaline helped him ignore the pain and soldier on, he ran for
the mass of police car’s that had gathered by the front of the school.
He looked at the front of the building, two men dressed in tactical gear
stood cautiously by the front entrance while another evacuated student’s
who came out quickly with their hand’s atop their head’s.
“How many were in there? Can you tell me?,” asked a police officer
as a paramedic bandaged Max’s hand.
Max remained silent, he had no answer. He would’ve spoken if he had
something to say. The officer moved on to another student to ask the same
question like a mindless automaton.
“Max,” said a female voice.
Max looked up, it was one of his friend’s, Morticia, he finally broke
his silence. “Hey…”
“Oh my God are you ok?,” she asked seeing his bandage.
Mike was standing next to her, “damn man. Did you get shot?”
“There wasn’t a gun…,” Max mumbled.
“Huh?,” asked Mike.
Max shook his head. “Nothin’… I cut my hand climbing out that
window over there.”
The sound of gunfire made Max jumped, he turned his head towards the school
where it was coming from.
“They ain’t goin’ down!,” someone said over the radio,
Max could hear it from the cop standing next to the ambulance.
More gunfire came from inside the school, the
three police officer’s in tactical gear near the front door’s began
to run as they saw something inside, more rain began to fall from the gray
sky. Max sat unmoving on the back of the ambulance watching, the rain wetting
his black pant’s and shoes. Out of the front entrance came another officer
dressed in black tactical gear as the other’s running , four people
chased after him, as he ran he unholstered his Colt M1911 .45. He turned
and fired two shot’s point blank into one of his pursuers but to no
avail. The bullet’s did nothing, the person chasing him merely jerked
a few times then tackled the fleeing officer. No one could do anything but
watch in horror as the man’s throat was tore out by human teeth, his
blood flowed mixing with fallen rain in a steady stream down to a gutter
than into a storm drain.
“Cannibal’s…,” Max heard someone say.
Max had come to a conclusion that only time would
prove right or wrong. These “cannibal’s” weren’t living,
but dead. It was beyond him where the conclusion came from, maybe his
subconscious had pieced it together. Maybe not.
“Drop ‘em!,” was the order that came over the police radio.
Gunfire erupted from the police who had their
gun’s trained on the four creatures. Bullet’s tore through them
as they feasted on the police officer’s body, trained gun’s and
sighted rifles blew them back to hell, where they belonged.
“Cease fire,” Max could hear the order over the police officer’s
radio who stood next to the ambulance.
Unnerved law enforcement lowered their gun’s,
then slowly the four creatures rose to their feet… Along with the police
officer they had killed. Max’s eye’s widened, total shock and awe.
The undead creatures began to run at the living with only one thing on their
minds: Food….
Edited by:
Blades11
at: 29/12/03 10:36 am
|
Blades11
The Damned
Posts: 3
(29/12/03 10:29 am)
Reply
|
Suriving the
Dead
Warning: Readers Discretion Is Advised.
-2-
The entire town had already succumbed to the
rank’s of the mass murder and carnage committed by the ravenous
“human’s,” who seemed to be in a trance like state. The phenomenon
had ravaged the town, spreading quickly like a wild fire in dry brush, Morticia
and Max had seen a lifetimes worth of violence in just the first hour since
the “crisis” had started in their small town.
“Come on!,” Morticia shouted pulling Max along the long alley
way.
Max ran as fast as he could, though it was still
not fast enough for the
things were gaining
on him. His soaked shoes sloshed each time his foot pressed down on the wetted
concrete, his clothes were soaked as well from the rain that seemed to never
stop. The overhanging gray storm cloud’s seemed to cast a gray hue over
everything, for everything seemed a duller color than it really was.
“Come on!,” Morticia shouted again.
Max heard her, but here was little he could do. She was faster then him,
and it seemed so were the creatures that pursued them.
“Over here!,” a voice ahead of them shouted.
Both Max and Morticia could hear it over the
sound of raindrop’s hitting various thing’s. Ahead of them was
a man, one who looked as if he wasn’t a day over 20, standing dressed
in black BDUs, a matching cap on his head, soaked from head to toe. In his
right hand he held a large rifle, like something out of an Arnold Schwarzenegger
film.
“Hurry!,” he continued.
Morticia and Max quickened their pace, running
with renewed purpose. Max glanced over his shoulder as he ran seeing a site
that encouraged him to go faster, the site of the snarling human monstrosities
reaching out after him with ravenous claws. He reached the man standing at
the end of the alley a few step’s after Morticia, every inch of his
being filled with absolute fear.
The stranger with the gun looked ahead of him
as the two frightened teenager’s rushed past him, three of the creatures
in hot pursuit, hell bent on acquiring yet another hot meal. The first to
reach the end of the alley was met with a swift and deadly blow to the skull
from the stock of the stranger’s rifle. The second one doubled over
as a 5.56mm slug tore through it’s forehead, exiting through the back
of it’s skull blowing much of it away. The third’s knee’s
were blown out from under it with two expertly placed shot’s, the heroic
stranger stepped forward looking down upon the horrific creature with disgust.
It’s head cracked open like a melon under his black combat boot, he
gave another stern kick to the merely destroyed skull for good measure.
Max had nearly crashed to the ground from exhaustion
while Morticia on the other hand was fairing well, she leaned against a brick
wall taking in as much oxygen as she could. Max hadn’t been built for
running like Morticia had. The stranger dressed in black checked the creatures,
to make sure that they were truly dead, before turning to the two shaken
teenagers.
“You two kid’s alright?,” the stranger asked, his voice was
filled with something that wasn’t quite concern, but wasn’t quite
anything else.
Max simply nodded his reply.
Morticia had finished catching her breath and looked at the mysterious stranger
before asking, “who are you?”
“Lieutenant 1st Class Edward Hawkins, at your service,” he replied
in a polished tone.
The stranger, who had identified himself as Edward
Hawkins, looked at Morticia noticing her slightly unusual attire, wearing
all black clothes in an unusual style he had never seen. Her counterpart
max was the same, dressed in complete black garb with a chain hanging from
his left back pocket attached to one of his belt loop’s, his wet hair
which looked like it had once been in spikes that had been destroyed by the
bombarding rain. He was a little less stringy then the girl, but that was
only to be expected.
“Now may I ask who you two are?,” he asked casually.
“I’m Morticia and that’s Max,” she replied snappily.
“But my friend’s call my Morty, since Morticia is too
long.”
“Where’d you come from?,” asked Max, he was a little uneasy
around this “Edward.”
“Recon element, second SS, I was separated from my squad a few block’s
from here when we ran into these,” he paused thinking about it for a
second, “… thing’s.”
“SS?” Max gave him a curious look.
The Lieutenant replied almost on cue, “Slayer Squad.”
To Max the name sounded like something out of a low B-grade movie of the
80s, or rather like something from a video game.
“So I take it you’re military,” said Morticia, looking at
him untrustingly.
Edward gave a quick nod, “yes. This whole area’s an I.Z.”
“I.Z.?,” asked Max curiously. This was all so new to him, though
the Lieutenant seemed more comfortable with it.
“Infected Zone,” the Lieutenant said again in a polished tone,
sounding more like a brainwashed automaton from the cheerfulness of his nature.
“We should probably get a move on, find a place to hide until help comes,
the shot’s I fired will undoubtedly bring more of the
creatures.”
Neither Max or Morticia voiced any disagreement with the lieutenant’s
idea, they followed him willingly like obedient lap dogs.
***
The three had taken refuge in a small corner
coffee shop, the Lieutenant had secured the place with the top’s of
tables and other assorted wooden item’s that could be nailed across
opening’s. Luckily the owner of the place had kept a healthy supply
of nail’s in the pantry. The rain continued to fall from the heavens
outside, it filled the air with it’s unusually fresh scent that
would’ve been welcomed happily any other day. But not that day; for
it was truly the day of the dead.
“So, Lieutenant Hawkins… What’re you really here for?,”
Morticia asked him as she sat on a bar stool she had frequented regularly,
sipping a random cold cup of coffee.
The lieutenant sat with his back to her and Max checking his gun’s,
an M4 Carbine and a Beretta 9mm pistol, facing the front door which had been
boarded up from the inside. “I’m sorry, but I cannot disclose that
information.”
His tone had been monotonous, noticeably different from when he had spoken
before.
Morticia rolled her eye’s as she looked at him, “are you serious?
We’re in the middle of something like this, most likely going to die,
and you can’t tell us a single thing?”
“We’re not going to die,” said Max who had become unusually
quiet, though he never had never really been a talker for the year’s
Morticia had known him. And that was kindergarten through present.
Morticia had never been a pessimist, but she seemed to be doing well at it.
“We’re going to end up just like Mike.”
Max closed his eye’s thinking about what happened to Mike, then tried
to shift his mind onto something else since the thought was too painful,
tear’s began to streak down his cheek’s as he silently wept.
“No, he’s right,” said the Lieutenant. “We’re not
going to die.” He knew it was a lie, but false hope was all he could
give.
Morticia’s eye’s darted around the coffee shop, all window’s
had been effectively and sufficiently boarded up to keep the thing’s
out, though they hadn’t found the three survivor’s yet, but there
was no doubt in her mind that they would. She looked at the lieutenant who
kept a watchful eye on the door. “Where’d you learn to do this
stuff? Like the… nailing, and all that jazz…”
“Basic training for all in the SS, securing a perimeter to effectively
stave off the ‘U.D.’ is one of the most invaluable skill’s
I was taught,” replied the Lieutenant.
“W-wait, ‘U.D.,’ what’s that?,” Morticia asked.
The lieutenant was silent for a few second’s before replying.
“Undead.”
Morticia nearly choked on the drink of the cold coffee she took when she
heard him, she spit it out and gasped for air. “Undead?!”
“Told ya’,” said Max who sat behind the counter hugging his
knee’s to his chest.
“You mean, those thing’s out there, they’re already dead?!,”
she had thought Max was only making thing’s up, lies caused by fear
and an inability to explain what had been occurring.
“Affirmative. The only way to deal with one of the U.D. is to destroy
the brain,” the Lieutenant spoke as if it were all normal. “This
is merely a training exercise, one I’ve been long preparing
for.”
Morticia asked no more questions, the shocking
information provided by the Lieutenant was enough to make her wish she’d
never asked. She was afraid to ask anything else now, scared of what she
might be told. I don’t need this, she thought. I’m only a kid still,
I want to live, I want to live…
Max remained silent, what had started as a regular
day had turned into a blood bath for the ages, one he would not soon forget.
The air seemed to be alive with a sort of “electric” feeling, Max
could smell it as well as feel it slightly. Mixed in with the scent of the
rain that continued to poor as if God was crying was barely noticeable. Max
closed his eye’s, thinking of his house. His nice little house on Gorman
ST where he and his mom and dad lived, and his dog Chopper. He wanted to
be home, in bed, he wanted to wake up and find that this had all been a bad
dream. He wanted to wake up and find that this had all been an elaborate
nightmare, cooked up by his subconscious from eating the wrong thing’s
and watching horror movies before bed.
He pinched himself to reassure himself that this
wasn’t a dream, a nightmare, but reality. Cold harsh merciless reality.
He pondered on his loved ones, and his friend’s he hadn’t seen
since the school that morning, wondering if they were ok. He began to doubt
that he would ever see them again, that he would ever wake up Saturday
morning’s to the smell of his is mother making breakfast, since she
never had the time during week day’s because of work. Saturday’s
were always special, more tear’s began to well up in his eye’s
as he realized he would never see another Saturday morning.
Morticia had the same feeling’s, she wanted
to be home, listening to music and drawing as she usually did out of boredom.
She wanted to hear her Evanescence CD once more, she had forgotten it that
morning on her dresser. But it wouldn’t have been of much good use,
since her CD player ran out of battery’s that morning. She wanted to
see her cat again, she wanted to hold Boot’s once more and pet him.
Hear and feel him purring in her arm’s affectionately. She wanted to
argue with her mother about thing’s that weren’t really important,
only now had she come to the realization that she and her mother never really
talked. Arguing was their form of communication, the argument’s were
never anger filled, they were the only way the two knew how to talk. She
realized now, now that it was too late, that she wanted to have a regular
conversation with her mother. She lowered her head in sadness, knowing that
that would never happen.
“Morticia…,” said Max from behind the counter, still sitting
in his spot hugging his knee’s to his chest.
“Yeah?,” she asked.
“How are you feeling?,” Max sat silently waiting for her reply.
“I’m alright… How about you?”
Max wiped away his tear’s, “I’m alright… I’ve been
better though.” The pain was present in his voice, though he tried to
hide it.
“Better? Like that time in 8th grade when we spit in Mr. Nilbog’s
coffee, and he came back from the office and took a big drink?,” said
Morticia with a grin, recalling happier times.
Max closed his eye’s, laughter coming from him as he remembered that
day with crystal clarity. “And,” he paused. “That time Tex
McCormick came to school without any pant’s on, and no one told him
till 1st hour when he walked into Misses Liz’s class wearing nothing
but a muscle shirt and tighty whiteys.”
Morticia slapped her knee, nearly hurting with laughter now. “How about
that time when we put Clearsol in Mikes pop in 3rd hour, and he started farting
all wickedly?”
Tear’s were coming from both their eye’s now, but they were
tear’s of joy, tear’s from their laughter. Max grinned, “I
remember that, he had to go home and c-change his pant’s and underwear
‘cause of the stuff gave him the Hershey squirt’s.”
Mortica started to laugh again, “y-yeah, and Allison Cordaine broke
up with him after that ‘cause she was embarrassed to be seen with him…
We were mean,” she paused. “Good times… good
times…”
The two were both indeed weird, each one of a kind. But that was part of
the reason they got along so well...
Edited by:
Blades11
at: 29/12/03 10:43 am
|
Blades11
The Damned
Posts: 4
(2/1/04 2:57 am)
Reply
|
Re: Suriving
the Dead
-3-
Something struck the front door of the coffee shop with great force, shaking
the entire building, the door nearly flew off the hinges from the first
strike.
“Jesus!,” Morticia said frightened by it, she hopped over the counter
landing next to Max.
Both crouched low, peeking over the edge of the counter.
“Stay down kid’s, if those thing’s get in here I want you
both to lock yourselves in the pantry,” said the lieutenant standing
with his M4 at the ready, pointing it at the door way as inhuman moan’s
came from outside.
The glass window’s shattered as discoloring
hand’s shot through the openings between the boards, finger’s curling
and uncurling hungrily, reaching for whatever was inside. With each strike
the door weakened, the boards nailed across coming loose. Lieutenant Hawkins
undid the button to the leather strap that held his pistol in it’s holster,
just in case he had to draw it quickly.
Lieutenant Hawkins drew in a deep breath and
exhaled slowly, calming his nerves like he had been trained to. He had to
remained focused, there was no telling how many of the thing’s had
accumulated outside, he should’ve told the kid’s to keep quiet,
their voices were like a dinner bell to the undead. But he hadn’t, he
wanted them to enjoy their final hour’s as the living.
Another devastating blow came to the door, the
lieutenant knew it wouldn’t be able to take much more. Another strike
was delivered knocking a door hinge loose, the lieutenant’s eye’s
narrowed as his hand impatiently wrapped around the pistol grip of the M4,
a weird feeling in his stomach developed, his index finger curled around
the trigger as he waited anxiously.
Another coordinated strike was delivered to the
wooden door knocking three of the four board’s nailed across it off,
hardened fist’s knocked away the table top that had been nailed across
the doors window sending it to the shop’s tiled floor. Through the exposed
window the three survivor’s could see a sea of dead faces,
expression’s of hunger and pain on all. Some had suffered vicious
wound’s to the skull that had not finished them, Max could see one pour
soul missing an eye and a jaw. Morticia caught a glimpse of one who’s
face had been torn away, the flesh and muscles eaten away down to the surface
of the bone. She turned around and dry heaved, Max looked away too, he
couldn’t bare the sight of them.
Another strike tore the door from the frame tipping
it like a tree, before the first could enter the lieutenant had already started
firing. He took his shot’s carefully yet quickly, the roar of his M4
mixed in with the chorus of the undead moan’s was a hellish anthem of
carnage and torment. Yet still, for each one the lieutenant shot another
took it’s place, his gun clicked empty and before he could draw his
pistol they were on him, the first tackled him to the tile floor, his unsecured
pistol slid out of it’s holster towards the counter landing close to
the two teenagers.
A few of the reanimated corpses noticed Morticia
and Max and started towards them, though some were slower than other’s,
rigor mortis had set in, Max scooped up the Beretta 9mm in his left hand
as he and Morty fled to the pantry. The thick metal pantry door slammed shut
just as the first corpse arrived, bouncing off the solid steel surface clumsily.
The two teenager’s sat in the rather large pantry, still breathing heavily
from fear. All Max could do was stare at the door, it looked similar to the
one of Mr. Reinhardt’s classroom, the one that had given way so easily
to so little of the dead.
“What now?,” asked Morticia.
Max looked in her direction, though neither could see each other for the
pantry was dark. “I don’t know… I… I really
don’t…”
A light clicked on in the room, Morticia had
found a light switch, the two looked at one another, each expecting the other
to know the answer. They could hear the sound’s of the lieutenant screaming
in pain outside, though neither paid him any attention. So selfish. The pounding
on the door could faintly be heard as well as the moan’s, the thick
wall’s as well as the door kept almost all sound from reaching the
two.
Max looked at the black Beretta in his hands,
he had never held a gun his entire life before now. It wasn’t at all
like the movies, the gun was definitely heavier then he would have expected,
and strangely cold, like a block of ice. He didn’t know much about
gun’s, only that you pointed it at whatever you wanted to die and pulled
the trigger.
“Wait,” said Morticia as she moved a box out of the way near the
door.
Max looked up, “huh?”
“There’s something here, some kind of hatch,” she said now
on her knee’s pulling at something.
Max climbed to his feet and walked over, looking over her shoulder just as
she pulled whatever it was up. It came open with a strange noise as musty
air was released into the pantry.
“Yuck, smell’s like.”
“Sewer,” Max finished her sentence. “This might be our only
way out.”
She looked at him with her icy blue eye’s. “Well what are you waiting
for?”
He shrugged his shoulders. What did he have to
lose? He tucked the pistol into his kangaroo pocket on his black hoodie and
started his slow descension by mean’s of the rusty cold bar’s that
were mounted to the concrete sewer wall. The last two bar’s were missing,
he was forced to drop the rest of the way, which wasn’t that far. He
landed with both feet evenly, the grayish green sewer water knee high, some
of it splashed upwards getting on his hooded sweater as he landed.
“Aw sick, you have no idea what just floated past me,” said Max.
Morticia rolled her eye’s as she started to climb down, “where’s
the other bar’s?!,” she asked sheepishly.
“Just jump,” Max replied looking up at her. “It’s not
far, trust me.”
“Oh, right, trust you, Max Kimble, the kid who once told me to trust
him in the 2nd grade by wearing a blindfold, then pushing me into a mud puddle,
yeah right,” she said sarcastically.
“I’m serious, come on.”
“Well… ok, but you’ve got to catch me,” Morticia waited
for a response.
“Uh, ok sure. I’ll catch you.”
She let go of the bars and jumped down, Max tried
to catch her but she fell on him knocking them both over into the sewer water.
Max kept his head above the surface, he didn’t want to swallow any,
sadly Morty wasn’t so lucky, she shot up from the sewer water gasping
for air.
“MAX!,” she shouted angrily, “YOU WERE SUPPOSED TO CATCH ME
YOU IDIOT!”
Max helped her up. “Sorry, I tried, but you came down at a funny
angle…,” he said trying to stifle a laugh.
“Oh sure,… erm… gross, now I smell like sewer water,”
she wiped her eye’s with the back side of her right forearm. “Where
to now?,” she asked.
Max looked both way’s down the nearly pitch black tunnel, lit only by
dim light bulbs that hung from the ceiling of the sewer which seemed to be
entangled with vines and brown roots of some kind, he shrugged his shoulders,
“don’t ask me man, I just work here.”
“A man hole, we’ve got to find one,” Morticia started down
the right side of the sewer tunnel.
“How do you know that’s the right way?,” Max asked.
She stopped and turned to him, “Max, the town ain’t that big if
you haven’t noticed. We’re bound to run into one sooner or later,
this place can’t be that big.”
Max stood still, looking in the opposite direction.
Morticia stopped again, turning towards him once more, “you coming or
are you just gonna stand around with that ‘I’m lost’ look
on your face all day?”
Max scoffed and unwillingly followed.
Minutes later they found one, by now they were
dreading the stench of the sewer, eager to get to the surface to the rain,
the only thing they dreaded worse than the smell of the sewer was the flesh
eating corpses which awaited them above. Max was the first up, since he was
the one with the pistol, and probably had a better chance of being eaten
first. Such a friend Morticia was. Max didn’t let it get to him though,
she was his best friend now, and if that meant getting nibbled on by ravenous
corpses then so be it. He reached the top of the bar ladder, pushing the
manhole cover up, it came open easier then expected but was heavy.
He pushed it aside, the cold rain drop’s
hitting his face, he could see his own breath in the air as he surfaced.
He climbed up all the way and turned back to help Morticia up, she surfaced
and she too was relieved to feel the cold rain drop’s on her face. The
dual sat next to the man hole for a second, taking in the welcoming fresh
air, a nice change from the stagnant stench of the sewer system.
“T-time to go!,” Max said climbing to his feet, Morticia saw what
he saw and scrambled to her feet as well.
Max had been a few step’s ahead of her but
turned and waited for his friend before continuing to flee. Behind them a
sea of the undead moved towards them, spread out thick taking up the full
width of the street, moving ever forward like a cannibalistic tidal wave
of the damned.
“Where are we going?,” asked Max in between breath, Morticia had
taken the lead once again as she was a faster runner than him.
Morticia looked back, seeing the intimidating army of the undead shambling
after them, only a few now fresh enough to run, “the bridge, we’ve
got to get out of this town!”
Max voiced no disagreement and continued to run,
the dusty pike bridge was on the west side of the town, where he and Morticia
where, if they could make it there then maybe they could loose the creatures.
It wasn’t long before they could see the bridge in sight, though the
heavy fog which had set in rather quickly only permitted them to see so
much…
***
Private Beckman stood behind the sandbag and
barbwire blockade formed on the bridge, on the opposite side of the blockade
bullet riddled vehicles littered the base of it along with the bodies of
the re-killed corpses. The town’s other exit’s had been blocked
by similar methods, though most of the wooded area had to be patrolled by
helicopter and ground unit’s. All of the SS units that had entered the
town hadn’t returned or reported back.
“Private Beckman, has there been any contact with the SS?,” Captain
Luc asked.
Beckman shook his head, “no sir, this storm’s been messin’
with our radio equipment, haven’t been able to raise anyone within the
I.Z.”
The captain mumbled something then went off to bother someone else.
Beckman sighed, he couldn’t wait till this
stuff was over, he wanted to get home to his family. His wife had just had
their first kid a few day’s earlier, named him George after General
George S. Patton, which was Beckman’s idol. He let out a raspy cough
which nearly name him drop his M4, he walked over to Private Bates who manned
the m60, positioning it’s tripod on the top of a sandbag as he knelt
on one knee.
Bates had seen a lot of thing’s that day,
thing’s he hadn’t been prepared for, though he’d been selected
to protect the bridge all he could do was his duty, not to let any body out.
If anyone were to approach the blockade they were to be put down immediately,
be they man woman or child. He wasn’t the only one with his gun trained
in the direction of the town, towards the opposite side of the bridge. There
were forty other men with him, but even that didn’t make him feel safe.
The first car that had sped towards the bridge had been riddled with a barrage
of bullet’s from nervous troops, those who survived only lived long
enough to see their family members bleed to death, in one case a kid in the
back seat had only been injured but the rest of his family had been killed.
After a few minutes the other three in the car came back to life, and tore
the kid apart as he sat wounded in the back seat. Yes sir, there was one
to tell his grand kid’s some day.
“Hey,” said Beckman as he took a knee next to Bates.
Bates nearly jumped out of his skin, he had been deep in thought,
“hey,” he replied keeping his eye’s dead ahead.
“Hell of a day, huh?,” commented Beckman who was now pointing his
M4 in the same direction as Bates.
“To say the least. I didn’t join the corps for this kinda thing,
I joined to see the world, hell, I wanted to be the first kid on my block
to get a confirmed kill, I didn’t join to be put out in the stick’s
to kill innocent civilian’s,” Bates grip tightened on the m60’s
pistol grip as he stared ahead.
“Yeah, well the only innocent are the unborn,” replied Beckman.
“But yeah, I know what you’re talkin’ about. I didn’t
join up to put holes in my neighbor’s either, orders are
orders.”
“Everyone’s real nervous, there’s thing’s happenin’
here that shouldn’t be happenin’,” Bates sighed. “I
don’t know if I’ll ever be able to sleep again man, not after
I’ve seen this kinda shit… Dead people comin’ back to life,
mothers and fathers eatin’ their children… It ain’t
right…”
Beckman let out another raspy cough, he paused for a long time before replying.
“You know, when they told me to aim for the head, ‘cause other
shot’s wouldn’t work, I told myself my hearin’s goin’.
Told myself I was hearin’ them wrong, until I saw my first. It’s
wrong, I know, but order’s are order’s.”
“You hear that?,” asked Bates.
Beckman quieted down and listened, he could hear it. The sound of hundreds
of the undead moaning in unison, their distinctive dreadful hunger filled
moans.
“Lock and load ladies, we’ve got company!,” Captain Luc shouted
as he heard the same noise as the rest.
Beckman’s breathing became ragged and unsteady,
he was getting nervous, his hand trembled as it rested on the M4’s pistol
grip, his index finger anxiously resting on the trigger gently. Bates swallowed
his fear and righted the M60, mounted it to his shoulder sternly, relying
on the tripod to take most of the weight. The soldiers were ready to gun
down anything that came out of the thick gray fog, who ever and whatever
it may be.
***
“Come on, we’re almost there!,” shouted Morticia to Max.
Max ran as fast as he could, the sound of the creatures moaning behind him
pushed him harder.
“Come on!,” Morticia’s foot clanked down on the steel surface
of the bridge.
Morticia was on the ground before she heard the
shots, Max heard the shots before he felt the pain. Max could feel his warm
blood rushing up his throat, forcing his lip’s open as it shot into
the air and fell across his face and pavement in a random scarlet pattern.
He coughed up more of his own coppery flavored crimson body fluid and closed
his eye’s, he could feel them in his stomach and chest, a few of the
bullets still burned inside. He had never thought about bullets burning though,
never thought the pain would be like this. He flopped around on the ground
like a fish on land, the pain clouding his mind like the fog that engulfed
him, he whimpered and groaned in pain.
He caught a glimpse of Morticia out of the corner
of his eye, she wasn’t moving; wasn’t breathing. A pool of blood
was steadily forming around her motionless body, but Max could only feel
his own pain, his hand’s curled into tight fist’s, his black painted
fingernails dug into his palm as the pain from his wounds made him press
harder. Cold bodies crashed to the steel surfaced bridge near him, few seconds
passed before he could feel the pain leaving him, all was going peaceful
now. He could hear nothing, but he watched with a silent eye as the corpses
that had once pursued him dropped like flies, most down for good but others
with shattered ankles and knee’s, only slowed by the slug’s which
the living threw by mean’s of their guns. Max closed his eye’s
as everything seemed to be getting brighter, though it didn’t hurt his
eye’s, he knew soon he would be seeing Morticia. His breathing slowed,
his fist’s uncurled, his body went limp, the warmth already fleeing,
his last breath escaped freely carrying away his soul, he was leaving hell
behind…
***
“There’s too many,” the freight filled words crawled slowly
out of Private Beckman’s gaping maw.
Private Bates still fired away, but for every
one he put down another took it’s place. It seemed pointless, even for
a town the size of Grovers Mill there was still more than they had expected.
Beckman slapped a fresh clip into his M4, lock and load, he continued to
fire at random target’s with no time to choose, some of the damned
thing’s were running.
“Keep shooting men!,” Captain Luc shouted in a tone that was something
like seriousness, but bordering on the verge of psychopathic.
It wasn’t long before the thing’s reached
the barbed wire and turned over wrecked cars, not much of a blockade but
it would have to do. The enemy was only inches away, Bates and Beckman could
smell them, it was no longer firing at distant shapes, it was looking at
their faces. The faces of the damned, the faces of evil. The first to reach
the barbed wire sheepishly walked into it, then fell forward becoming entangled
in the sharp and treacherous fray, becoming easy targets.
Beckman had been firing away randomly when he had heard the two single most
beautiful words that had ever been spoken.
“FALL BACK!”
There was no need to tell him twice, he stood
up and moved in the opposite direction along with the other troops, Bates
at his side keeping a weary eye. The falling rain and fog shielded hazardous
dangers that could pop out at any moment, and when they did they’d meet
Bates welcoming M60. The troop’s piled into various military transport
vehicles, both air and land before leaving the area in a speedy pace.
Minutes later the sound of fast moving aircraft
shooting through the air excited some of the creatures below as they shambled
about through the streets of Grovers Mill, still in search of food. Endlessly
in search. Most lazily tilted their heads towards the gray sky as a pair
of black objects fell from the heavens, a high pitched whistling noise
accompanying them. The town disappeared in a flash of bright light, shock
waves spread outwards from the impact points leaving a path of fiery destruction
in their wake.
As the smoke cleared and the fires fizzed out all that remained where Grovers
Mill once sat was a flat lot littered with random lumps of ash and the charred
shells of ravaged buildings
***
General Worthington sat behind his steel desk, a few manila folders sitting
before him idly. He puffed on a fat Cuban cigar as he sat back in his swivel
chair, feet up on the desk. He took the time to reach over and grab one of
the folders and opened it, looking at the paper clipped pages.
“No less than 24 hour’s after the chemical was released into a
controlled environment the entire town, population 650, succumbed to it’s
effect’s, either infected by the carrier’s or by the chemical itself
through inhalation. Special operation units known as the ‘SS’
effort’s to survive within the I.Z. were hopeless, suggestion is of
course more training to combat and contain the U.D. within an I.Z. so that
if said chemical were ever used in war time scenario’s the U.D. may
be swiftly dealt with after their purpose was fulfilled. Storms caused by
the chemical in open air have been reported to mess with radio and radar
equipment.” The general flipped the page in the thin report.
“Estimated time it would take for the chemical to infect the population
such as a city - Example: Bullethill City - no less than 7 day’s. Smaller
area’s would succumb in a shorter time frame.”
The General picked up the other folders and opened
his file cabinet, he slid them in a larger brown folder marked “Operation
Paperclip.” He opened one of his desk’s drawers and pulled out
a liter of Vodka and a shot class, he poured himself a shot with a sigh.
He wished the chemical had never been developed, there were some weapon’s
mankind shouldn’t possess.
The End.
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