I pop open a can of soda in my studio apartment. Asia's "Heat of the Moment" is still fresh in my ears. That was, before the power went out. I was at the grocery store when this all unfolded. The power went out and a woman screamed. I got out of there as fast as I could before the rest could drive out of the lot. I picked up my cell phone and strode to the wide pane window next to my sofa. Peeking out the blinds, I saw no one in the streets. Only cars, but with no drivers. I took a sip from my soda. I looked down at my "Bikini Girl 5" home screen and checked my bars. "Only 2." I muttered to myself, my throat sorer and sorer after every raspy utterance. I went to my Address Book and selected Nicksta, pressing the green button. After two rings, my good friend picked up. "Hey Nick." I whisper into the phone.
"Whats up?"
"Is the power out at your place"
"I dunno. I haven't gotten back yet, I'm driving back from the radio station."
"Well, somethings going on." I reply.
"Really? Like what?" I didn't have the heart to tell him what was on the news a minute ago. Random assasinations and dead in the streets. Oh, and a 40 percent chance of thunder storms.
"Just thunder storms. They've been messing with the electricity."
"Oh ok. Thats not too bad."
"Wait, where are you now?"
"Driving still. I'm about three blocks away."
"I'll be over in two seconds." I fiercely shoved the phone into my pocket, dumped the remainder of the soda in the sink, and grabbed my keys, wallet, and just in case, a pistol and six boxes of ammunition. The rain pours down hard as I jog to the parking garage a block over. I cursed about being drawn to there because tenants park free. When I got to the garage I noticed there was only one car. My car. I walked to the car, unsteadily searching the area for anything suspicious. Thats when I heard it. Step, drag, step, drag. I was sure of what it was. Something with one foot. And the noise got closer with every drag. And then a low growl followed by a moan. I walked past my car and peered around the concrete wall. The caretaker to this place. "Hey, where are all the cars tonight?" He looked up at me, with a mangled look, then his pupils got huge and he started running towards me. I pulled out the pistol and held it against my side, then waited intently for his next move. No difference, he continued to run towards me. He slipped, and I ran to him. "Are you okay? What the hell happened to your foot, sir?" His face lifted up, and I heard a sniffle. Blood leaked out of his open lips and bled down to the pavement. He screamed and tried to bite at me. I kicked him in the face, and it flung him back. I drew the pistol and aimed for his waist. I shot, the kickback nearly knocking me off my feet. As it turns out, it did knock me off my feet. I fell to the ground with a thud and heard the angry gestures of the maniacal caretaker. I looked beyond my bent knees, and saw him running towards me. I rolled over, and aimed the gun again. This time, I'm shooting to kill. I fired the pistol, and he fell to the ground. Just to be sure, I stode up to his corpse, and shot him in the head from point blank. The gunshot echoed all around the parking garage, and I ran to my car and plugged the keys into the ignition. I slammed my foot on the acceleration and took off, my '06 Civic roaring down the empty street. Little did I know, I was barreling towards hell. I did not ever smoke in my life, but tonight, I took long drags on a Marlsboro light, and blew the thick smoke out of my nostrils. Tonight was going to change me, I had gotten that far. I had killed a man just earlier. The car was running great, until the engine let out a pop and died. I checked the gas metre, and it was empty. I cursed loudly. But out of nowhere, a person walked down the street. He saw the car, and started running. I cursed again, this time under my breath. I quickly rolled the windows up, and locked the doors. I reloaded my pistol. This time, I pulled a crowbar out of the glove box. Several more maniacs had been appearing down the street before I realised how close I was to Nicks house. All of the sudden, flame spit out above the horizon. Something had exploded, and it was more than likely it was the gas station a house apart from Nicks place. With a sudden jolt of courage, I slammed the crowbar against the window and leaped out, the maniacs turned their vision over to me. I sprinted past most of them, and saw the house next to Nicks up in flames. The dead were walking by him too, it appeared. I saw someone also shooting perfect shots to the head and dodging bites. It was Nick. I shouted to him as I pulled out my gun as well. We were going to have to do something soon before we were overrun by zombies. I noticed something. I had thought of them as zombies. In the rest of my days, that thought had come across my mind hundreds of times. What were they? But at this point and time, I didn't have the resources to solve that problem. All I had was a pistol, and a crowbar. "Nick!" I screamed waiting desperately for an answer.
"Oh, hey!"
"Nick, how have you been holding out?"
"Fine. You were right, the weather is pretty bad." Thunder cracked, almost perfectly in time with what he had said. I laughed. I turned around to see the zombies running at us, and I pulled out the pistol. With three skilled shots, I was able to drop two of them.
"My house, my house!' Nick yelled. We both took off, still facing the street, and shot sparingly. Nick pulled out his keys and fumbled with the lock. He opened the door quickly, and ushered me in.
"Theres plywood in the basement, go fetch it." he muttered, and I obeyed. I ran down the steep wooden steps leading into his basement and heaved up a board of plywood. I ran it up the stairs, then proceeded to make three more trips getting the wood, followed by two more trips up and down getting the circular saw and the saw horses. I peeked out the curtain of the window and saw three zombies outside. Not doing anything in particular, just standing there. I quickly closed the curtain so they wouldnt notice me. Nick ran down to the basement, coming up in a few minutes with safety goggles.
"Good thinking," I said to him.
"Heh. Safety first."
"So," in an attempt to make conversation, "how did this start?"
"I have no idea. When I was at the radio station, we were broadcasting the crap about random killings. But zombies? I really doubt thats what it is. This should be all over in a few hours. But for now," he blared the saw "It doesn't hurt to be prepared."
"Right you are my friend." I said, as I pulled the cigarettes out of my shirt pocket. I twiddled with it for a moment before lighting it up, and taking a drag.
"Want one?"
"Nah."
Mindless hours of muscle numbing work passed before the power came on. Instantly, we turned to the news, eager to find out what the problem was. We watched intently and silently. The newscaster then began to drone out politics, sports, and weather before getting to what mattered.
"Disaster struck in Chicago last night as a cult of assasins killed 225 people. This "massacre" went on for a few hours, and stopped abrubtly at daybreak."
"Hell no. Assasins?" I questioned.
"You have to be kidding me. Those were freaking zombies. Theres no way in hell that was organized."
"I think we should keep doing what we're doing," I flipped the TV off "What if they're nocturnal?"
"Maybe your right. But we should go outside today."
"Okay. Well, on one condition."
"Shoot."
"Are all the provisions set up?"
"Yeah, we worked like dogs all night."
"All the windows are boarded?"
"I think so." He said. I went and checked every window in the house. He was right, they were all boarded up. We left in the hour. Officials were outside, collecting the bodies and attempting to register their identities into a mortuary database. Nothing was working for them, I assumed. The face of the caretaker reappeared to me, and I shuddered. I remembered his missing foot.
"Remembering last night really makes me think." I said, as we walked over to his garage in his backyard.
"Yeah. It's no wonder I was able to work at night so easily. With all this **** on my mind I could be awake for days."
"Heh. God I sure hope not." We laughed, and we opened the door to his garage. Out of instinct I checked around, making sure there were no hiding "maniacs" anywhere. After a careful inspection, I got into the passenger seat. I switched the radio on, and turned to a random station. Nothing. I changed the station several times, and each time, nothing.
"Radio's out."
"Better look for a new job, eh?"
Nick chuckled at his own joke. I wasn't really sure how he could be so laid back about everything that was going on. And then it hit me. I hadn't made a single phone call to relatives. A chill went up my spine as I imaginged the people I love dead.
"Two hundred and twenty five"
"Huh?"
"Thats how many people were killed"
"Oh...thats alot."
"Your damn right it is."
I glanced over at a man ranting about how the world was going to end soon.
II- The Man in the Street
Alfred Wilhelm was always a nice man. He had never done anything to make anyone mad for as long as he could remember. His neighbors loved him, and so did his beautiful wife and children. He had four children, Denise, John, Westing, and Mitch. Westing was 18 years old the night this had all happened. A few hours after me and Nick had left the house, we ran into young Westing. He was ranting in the street about the end of the world. He was a strapping young one, and it was shocking to see him in this state of mind. I approached him with caution, careful not to inadvertently set him off.
"Westing?" I whispered to him.
"Who are you?"
"I'm your neighbor! I lived right across the street for almost two years now!"
"I remember you now. What are you doing here?"
"We were seeing if anyone else had encounters with those things last night."
"Yeah, we saw those things. Those...monsters."
"Where's your family?"
"Well, most of the family is home."
"Most?"
"Dad...and Mitch were killed by those things."
Nick entered the conversation. "I'm so sorry."
I answered his humble interruption, "Nick, go inside and fetch the guns. We're going out. Lock the doors."
"Gotcha." Nick ran off towards the house. I turned back to Westing.
"We're coming over. How's John and Denise?"
"One of them bit John. Denise is fine."
"****. Get in the car."
"Okay." Me and Westing waited next to the car and waited for Nick to arrive with guns and the keys. A few minutes passed before we saw Nicks familiar face appear on his porch.
"Hey, man." I called over to him as he strode towards us.
Westing opened the back door after Nick turned the lock off with the remote. He pushed aside the crap in the backseat and sat down.
"Should I drive?" I said to Nick, who was about to slide into the seat.
"Uhh..Go for it." We switched around in the driveway, and I got into the drivers seat. He hookshot the keys over the hood of the car and I caught them with a reflex.
"Ninja moments?" Westing asked from the backseat. We broke out laughing for a few minutes before we settled down and I started the car. I pulled out and we drove along his street for a few seconds before we hit the main roads. We drove in silence until we hit the highway. I lit a cigarette and offered one to Westing. He gladly took the offer and I passed him the lighter.
"You know," Westing started. "I don't usually smoke." I laughed when I heard this.
"Me either, kid. The worst brings out the worst in you." That made him smile. A puff of smoke escaped my lips the minute before the car slammed into oncoming traffic. All it took was hearty conversation to stray my mind away from lunatic drivers. It had escaped my mind that other people were as worried about last nights occurences as we were. After a couple of unpleasant thrashings all I saw was black. I awoke to Nick pushing me.
"Whats going on?"
"We crashed."
"Where are we?"
"Well, your laying in the middle of the highway." When I heard that, I shivered and leapt to the ground. Westing was leaning against the wreckage. He then let out a big whooping cough.
I approached him, "Nervous?"
"Why?"
"You smoked the damn thing to the brown." On that note he coughed again, and threw the cigarette away, followed by desperate spitting. I chuckled for a moment, but stopped abrubtly when I looked up at the sky. I shuddered when I saw the moon out, realising that the maniacs could be out again, thirsty for blood. Nick looked up at the sky. When he looked back, the color had drained from his face.
"We have to get out of here, don't we?" Westing asked, with an obvious answer coming right at him.
"Your damn right we do." Nick answered, perfectly in tune with cocking the rifle. It was the cliche part for an overly muscled black man, but with the situation as it was, Nick played the part perfectly. We began to head north on the expressway, and luckily no cars stood in our way. It was clear there was something out there; Chicago was still crowded as ever in the night. That thought flipped my stomach the wrong way.
III- It's a Big City
We ran north for about two miles before we reached the exit ramp.
"Slow down guys." Westing called from behind us.
"How the hell did you get a block behind us?" I called back to him.
"Asthema!" We stopped when we heard him say that. We didn't want to push the yound boy to his limits.
"I guess I overestimated Westing." Nick said.
"I guess so too." We waited for a minute until Westing briskly walked his way to us. I got up from the soft grass next to the cement and brushed myself off. We continued up the ramp for a moment in silence. I high pitched howl broke the calm sound of the rushing wind. I averted my eyes from the cement, only looking one way before continuing to walk. Nick wasn't so lucky as I, however.
"Was that a dog?"
"Probably." Westing answered with finality.
"What are ya, scared?" I asked him.
"That's not funny." Nick retorted as he shoved his hands in his sweater pockets. A rush of wind bit at my ears and face. I looked down at my feet to prevent wind hitting my face. And, as abrubtly as it had occured the first time, the howl was up again. This time it was the slightest bit louder.
"How much longer until we get there?" Westing asked, with a certain amount of timidness lurking in his voice.
"Just a few minutes." I responded.
"We've got about six blocks to-." Nick was interrupted by another howl. Followed sequentially by a bark. This was definataly a dog. We could hear the ongoings of the canine clearly now, which signaled it was close by. Nick cocked his head to the right.
"There she is."
"Where?"
"Right there, in the middle of the street." We all looked over and saw the dog. It was a big dog, too. It barked again, and I jumped a bit. We curved our path to try and stay out of its territory, only that was undefined. The next step the lot of us took was answered by the dog running towards us, barking frequently.
"****!" Westing screamed.
"Ever fired a gun before?" Nick asked him.
"No..."
"Take this one!" he said as he threw him the semi automatic. Westing cocked it, closed his eyes, and fired away, luckily landing one in its skull. The dog dropped instantaneously. Westing continued to fire.
"Hey, Westing. Stop shooting, you got it."
"Oh...ok." He said as he stopped firing, and opened his eyes. A streak of pride gleamed across his eyes.
"You're right. I did get it." Westing was going to boast about this for a while, until the real deal of this disaster poured into his young mind. The last shot echoed its way through the ghost neighborhood, and I, like the rest of us, was expecting pure silence afterwards. Again, we weren't so lucky. It sounded like thousands of dogs barking and howling.
"It was a ******* dog family!" cried Nick. We started to hustle towards Nick's house, but we were headed off by a pack of strays. I cursed to myself, and loaded my pistol up. Nick cocked his rifle and we shot for kills. Only me and Nick were able to do much damage. Westing was surrounded by three or four of them. He refused to shoot at them. Maybe it was pure terror. We never found out his reasoning for refusing to shoot. All we knew was that if we didn't do anything, he was most likely going to die.
"Westing! Shoot!" we called to him. He still didn't. Me and Nick didn't know what to do about it but try to hit the dogs and not Westing. After the four dogs were dead, Westing was pale as a ghost. Not the greatest simile, but thats what we saw. We took him back home, and for the first time that night, got lucky. The dogs didn't bother us again. We were worried however, Westing was draining blood from a bite he recieved on the ball of his heel. The dog had ripped through his shoe. Not only was he in severe condition, he was delusional, and in great pain. When we got him back into the house we rushed to bandages or towels to dress his wound. He vomited twice in the toilet before we thought we could do it.
"Your gonna be o.k., Westing." I would reassure him. It was the only thing in my power that I could do to try and help, besides take him to a hospital. Nick checked the windows really quick, and the maniacs, or "zombies" , as we had begun to call him, were out again. They didn't notice the movement inside the house. It was not only the bite that was killing him. He carried a high fever, and frequent sweating. Within a few hours, he was dead.
IV- Sweet Dreams while you Rest in Peace
In the course of my adult life, it had never occured to me that death could hit a man so hard. My mother had died when I was nineteen, and I felt nothing towards it. Nor to my fathers subsequent suicide when I was twenty. Life for me was full of death. But considering Westing quite possibly was one of the last people on this planet, his untimely demise struck me in a different way. We had never talked much, compared to my parents, whom I spent every waking hour of my childhood side-by-side with. Westing was different. He had so much of a future. Lung cancer was a doom I could have devised for my mother long before she was diagnosed with it. Westing was accepted into an Ivy League school just a few months before, and had just arrived home from moving into his dorm about a week before this disaster unraveled. I easily would have sacrificed myself for the young mans life. I had nothing left, with my closest relative my son-of-a-bitch of a brother, who lived in Los Angeles. I was a slacker. I dropped out of college after a little more than a semester. Working as a mechanic was alright. But I had higher expectations of myself. That was, until the truth was revealed. When I did drop out of college, I rested my dreams on the young mans arms. He was my succesor, or atleast I liked to imagine he was. His father Alfred was very proud of him, but he had to die too. It was tough to fall asleep that night. Reminiscing about my failure of a past kept me up besides the knocking on my door. Just that moment, I realised someone was knocking on my door. What a wake-up call. I got up out of the bed and opened the door. Greeting me was Westing, only, paler. I kicked him out of the doorway and breathed hard for a moment, my mind not exactly able to capture the fact that he had risen from the grave so quickly. It was only eight hours ago I pronounced him dead. The knocking on my door continued for a while, until it stopped abrubtly. Then my thoughts shifted over to Nick's well being. If he died, I might just kill myself. I ran back to the bed and pulled the pistol out from under my pillow. I grabbed a box of ammunition of the top of the dresser and loaded it up, shaking with fear. Once it was loaded, I stormed the door open and hit the wall in front of it. Westing was nowhere to be seen. I ran upstairs to where Nick was residing and found Westing smashing his head on the closet. I sprinted over and blindsided the demon, tackling him hard. I backed up a bit, and aimed the shot. I pulled the trigger just as Nick opened the door fiercely, which sent me sprawling. The shot went awry and hit the ceiling light. I had to **** the pistol again, then I realised the ghoul was almost upon me and him.
"Nick! Run into your room and get the rifle."
"I'm on it!" He disappeared behind the door. I fired the gun again, but nothing came out. The barrel literally exploded in my hand, and out of instinct I threw the gun at Westing. The barrel must have bent during the fall. I ran at Westing and tackled him head on, knowing if I took him out, I protected the house for atleast a week longer. I punched Westing in the face the kneed him in the stomach. I then roundhouse kicked him in his face. He then began to scratch at me and he headbutted me to the ground. I picked up the hot gun, which was still in my reach, and bashed him over the head with it. I attempted to stab the barrel into his skull, but I was unsuccessful. Suddenly, I was alerted by Nick smashing the door open and firing at the zombie. I leapt behind Nick just in time to see the undead Westing hit the ground dead a second time in my life.
"That was a close one." I mentioned.
"Are you kidding me? We had that covered." Nick partially agreed with me. The next day we buried Westing in the backyard. We figured a survivor as uncoordinated as Westing was hardly a survivor to begin with. There was loss of companion in his death, but there was no loss of a fighter.
"I guess he just wasn't cut out to fight the undead." Nick said to me while we were headed back into his house after the burial.
"I guess not," I responded, sighing. "But that boy had a future."
"Yeah, he did. I only wish we had known that a bite is lethal enough. Would have saved us a **** load of trouble." Nick joked. I agreed silently. He opened the door and stepped in, with me closely following. He switched the T.V. on and we both sat down. This time, the reporters were a little more frantic. They aired videos of running people. Of hordes of the undead downtown. Of the military getting their asses handed to them on the battlefield. Of survivors, and their stories, gruesome and heroic. But most of all was the kill count, a small chart showing the number of people pronounced dead in the disaster. My heart sank when I saw the number. 45,682. Someone I knew, was dead. The fact couldn't escape my mind for a few minutes. Especially since all the phone lines were down, I had no way of getting ahold of someone.
"We should drive over to Alfred's." Nick ended the silence.
"Sure. We can only hope, though, that Denise made it out O.K."
'What do you mean?"
"Johnny was bit." We both knew what being bit meant, and we made silence and turned our attention to the news. The government, apparently, wasn't doing so much as creating safe houses for civillians. They were probably escaping to their secret island fortresses while the damn the public to this nonsense.
"Bastards." I murmured to myself. Nick didn't turn his head, so I assumed he didn't hear me. This whole situation is probably driving some poor fellows insane. I can't imagine what it would be like to see your best friends, parents, children, relatives, or even enemies, be slaughtered. And if it wasn't for our higher power in our country sitting back. Talk about putting salt on a wound thats already deep enough. The thing that stumped me the most is how this whole thing got started. I couldn't possibly imagine that it was a virus that gets out now and then. And it wasn't like the graveyards were chock full of potential hosts. Which led me to another train of thought. This one was moving a bit faster. I could find a cure. I had to try, it was the least I could do for the human race. I had to get a sample. Before I got ahead of myself, I checked the clock. It was almost 10. I was definataly lost in thought.
"I'm going to bed."
"See you in the morning," Nick chuckled,"Sweet dreams." He laughed. I laughed. For some reason, him saying that at that moment struck me as very funny. Maybe it was just funny in a sarcastic air. It didn't really matter. The only good it really did was add a bit of comic relief to my hectic life. It helped me fall asleep, and for that, I thanked him. I trudged into my bedroom and fell onto the bed, covering myself with it's sheets. I had a peculiar dream that night.
V- A Dignified Way to Dream
The clouds have now completely come over the sun. Just a minute ago, it was bright as ever. The fields I was eating my lunch in turn gray. And one by one, the blades of grass turn black as the night, faster and faster. I am now consumed by the black grass. My lunch is gone. From the distance spouts a hole. The hole overwhelms me. I am falling, until I land in a hallway. A poorly lit hallway. The only thing funny about this hallway is that every door leads to the room my father commited suicide in. Noose and all. Their are eight doors. I run down a staircase, but I am headed off by a man riding a horse. I cannot see his face, but he carries a blade. He draws it, and lifts it high above his head. I can see his face now. It was-I wake up sweating, and cursing.
"Vivid." I whisper to myself. And boy was it vivid. I had never dreamt like that before. The colors and events seemed all too real. I got out of bed and headed for the kitchen. I checked the clock. 5:40 A.M. I guess I got an O.K. sleep. But I'm going to start using all the valuable sleep time, to have energy to do as much as possible during the day. I put on a pot of coffee and leaned against the counter, thinking.
VI- Racing the Tides
It was several hours before Nick trudged down the stairs into the living room. I sipped a cup of still warm coffee and sighed.
"I take it you slept well." I called over to him.
"Ae you ******* kidding me?"
"You slept longer than me."
"I may have gotten up later than you. But you have no idea when I went to bed."
"Fine. When?"
"I didn't go upstairs till 5:39."
"Damn. I woke up 1 minute after you went to bed."
"Call yourself lucky, shitstain."
"Hey, don't get critical."
"Whatever. Did you even notice what I did?"
"No-" I looked up at the windows. They were plated with aluminum. "****."
"Yeah, don't jump to conclusions, dumbass."
"Calm down. It was just a misunderstanding." He showed a silent gesture of "Devil may care" and walked over and made a cup of coffee. He walked up to grab the remote and raised it up over his head, stretching. Thats when I realised somethin insane. He was the horseman in my dream. I didn't freak out about it just yet, but it ate at my mind through breakfast. Thats when a second thing popped into my mind. I had to start taking care of myself. I had no idea when all of this was going to blow over. We finished breakfast in silence before packing up the guns and some food and heading over to Alfred's. We would have to walk there; our car was totaled.
"Its a long walk." Nick mentioned.
"Yeah. But I guess we could walk over to a gas station, fill up, and walk over to my car." I respond as I signal over to the car in the middle of the street. And thats when it hit me. Nobody was outside. If the zombies could take 225 in one day, then take 45,000 the next, they may have very well taken 99 percent of the population. All thats left was the fighters. I didn't say anything to Nick about it because I feared I might unlock some hidden misery out of the guy. He had people to love that were killed. I didn't. He hadn't done so much as flinched since the day this unraveled. We walked over to the gas station, the ashes of the explosion still fresh on the ground. But there was still an unharmed tank. We went inside the store, filled up on water, and got an empty cartridge. He stayed in to forage for some more food, while I filled up the cartridge with gasoline. It was a few minutes before he came back out, and we continued in silence to my car. I filled up the gas tank, while he got in the drivers seat. I walked in to the passengers seat and passed him the keys. After my last near-fatal experience with car accidents, I made a big deal about buckling my seat belt, so hopefully Nick would follow my example. I wasn't so lucky. He set off quickly down the street and we sped to my neighborhood.
"Sorry I was so crabby in the morning." Nick broke the silence.
"Don't worry about it. This situation is bullshit."
"Yeah. I never let out any of this rage that I've been holding in." I figured he was holding in anger, Oh ****, I thought.
"I see your point. So your letting out on me?"
"Pretty much." What Nick said made me laugh for the first time in two days. I was used to it so much in life before the demons showed up, it hurt. We got out of the car and headed for the door. Nick pushed on it cautiosly before I kicked it open.
"Hello?" Nick yelled as we armed ourselves. No reply.
"Is anyone here?" I called. No reply. But I heard a soft rustling coming from the next room over. I silently signaled to Nick to move into that room. We crept in through the doorway and saw nothing except an over turned chair. Nick slowly approached the chair, and lifted it, quickly jumping back.
"Disgusting." Nick commented. I silently agreed with him by making a gagging noise. It was a corpse, only its chest looked like someone had driven a shovel through it and excavated it. It was grotesque, and I doubted anyone in the right mind would do something like that to a human being. Unless it was no longer human. The thought struck me hard. We approached it to investigate more thoroughly.
"Is anybody there?" Nick called again. No response. We poked around at the corpse for a minute before deciding to head up the stairs. We walked cautiously up the creaky wooden steps. We were startled by a high pitched, almost deafening scream. I averted my vision to the top of the stairs, and pointed my gun. Nick followed suit, and standing before us, was a girl. Denise, or atleast it looked like her. She looked down at me, but didn't recognize me,
"Why- why would you- you break into my home?"
"We were trying to help."
"Help how? All you bastards do for me is kill my family!" On that note, Denise ran down the stairs towards us, arms outstretched. Me and Nick both seemed skeptical to shoot at the bronze haired teen, but as matters were, we couldn't resist to protect our own lives. To my suprise, neither of us pulled the trigger. Our main concern was protecting ourselves, and the girl was just in our way. I hadn't realised that we had that much compassion for the fellow sufferer, but I guess we did. Westing wasn't like this. He was stronger emotionally, Denise, on the other hand, had gone crazy. She chased us down to the living room, and past the corpse. I tripped on the overturned chair and hit my head on the floor. I blinked for a moment, watching Nick try to fight the girl by himself. He wasn't so fortunate in his efforts, and ended up on the ground. I blinked again, at a more constant pace this time, however. Except the blinks lasted longer and longer and...
VII- Breezing Past the Bridge
My head hurts. My arms hurt. My back hurts. As a matter of fact, my entire body is pulsing with unignorable anguish. I blink open my eyes to nothing. Absolutely nothing. I tried to move but my joints weren't on my side anymore. It must be another dream. My last dream was awful. One of the most vivid dreams I've ever encountered in the course of my life. And to think about dreaming, now I've found myself thinking about the whole horseman thing. Why would Nick betray me? He was my best friend, and a fellow fighter. I wasn't able to grasp the idea that he would go against me during our journey to escape with our lives. I could always find a metaphor for situations like this. A bit of a long one came across my mind. Almost like a story. So theres this bridge. I, the unsuspecting crosser of sed bridge, come to missing planks along the course of the bridge. These missing planks obviously represent obstacles. The first missing plank is my mothers death, then my fathers suicide, then me dropping out of college. And then theres another bridge. I wasn't quite sure what this bridge represented, but it had no missing planks. I could breeze right by it. Enough with metaphors, I thought to myself. I opened up my eyes again, this time, there was something in front of me. A white wall, freshly painted, as a matter of fact.
VIII- Apples in a Barrel
I grunted. I moved around a minute, before looking down. My hands were bound, which explains the immobility. So were my feet. This is just great. I tried to shift my head back so I could see behind me, but failed. My neck hurt too much.
"You there?" I heard from the spot adjacent to me.
"Nick?" I responded.
"Yeah."
"Thank god. What the hell happened?"
"That ***** bound us up. You tripped, remember?"
"Yeah." Just thinking about that made my body ache.
"I thought you were dead."
" ****, man. I thought I was dead too."
"Haha. Well...hate to break it to you, but I think this might be the end." Nicks voice was cut off by a sly, seductive voice.
"Guess what boys? It is the end." Denise grinned. I was able to look over to see her, standing over me like a hawk. I couldn't help but notice how attractive she really was. I shook out of her stunning beauty and realised what she was doing to us. But I still couldn't understand how her face changed from when she was on the stairs.
"What do you want?" Nick snapped at her. I was suprised by his bolt of courage, but was overwhelmed with contempt for my captor.
"What do I want? I want everyone to leave me alone. Those monsters that roam the street at night are enough. And guess what? If I knock you out, with this here stick," she patted a stick against her open palm. We shuddered. "I can put you out into the middle of the street to die. Unless, of course, you object to my whim."
"What is it?" Nick responded. I planned on letting him do all the talking.
"Keep me company." We both gasped at her unusual request. I couldn't help but speak up.
"Why are you threatening us then? I'd much rather have someone just ask nicely!" With that snappy remark by me she strutted over, swung the stick back, and hit me firmly on the bridge of my nose. I flinched, knowing that if I showed a sign of pain, or anguish, I would be giving in to her. But I wasn't about to do that. I knocked myself over on the chair and struggled to break free of the ropes. It wasn't working to well for me, I was only able to snap one loop of the several that bound me to the chair. She, again strode up to me, and starting hitting me in the head with the stick. Somehow, and I never understood how he was able to, Nick was able to break free of his rope while I was being beaten to death by Denise. He grabbed her forcefully while I undid my ropes.
"You listen now and you listen good," Nick droned."You lay another hand on either of us again, I'll kill you. Do you understand?" Denise nodded and gagged painfully. He pulled her away and we all walked to the car. Daylight was draining, however. And we needed to get back, with our captive. I wouldn't call her our captive just yet, though. We still had unfinished business to unleash upon her. Call her a torcher victim.
"So, what should we do with her?" I asked Nick, who was driving. I was in the back seat, keeping Denise under control.
"Lock her up in the basement?" he responded.
"Works for me." I grinned. Denise groaned. We drove the rest of the way in silence, and made it back into the house before the monsters walked the city again. It never occured to me why they didn't all team up on Nick's house. The television had stopped working that morning, and we may very well have been the last survivors in the city. Nick led Denise down into the basement and told me he was going to tend to locking her in. I went into the bathroom and checked on my face in the mirror. Broken nose, split lip, bruises on my cheekbone, black eye. Various other cuts. That ***** really got me good.
IX- Shelter from the Storm
It was nearly an hour of boredom before I got to thinking about a cure. Tomorrow I would have to go to the library, and pick up books about viruses, anatomy, all the good stuff. Steal a microscope, attain a zombie into captivity. My train of thought was interrupted by a shout. Seeing as I was in the midst of thought, I couldn't tell if it was of anguish or pleasure. Please don't be pleasure, I begged to myself. I would right about kill that man if he was down there ******* our captive. I refused to check for myself, in fear that I would be in shock for a short period of time. I minus well confront him about it when he came back up. But then again, I already knew what he was going to say. Either "Hell Yeah!" or he would get all suspicious looking like "Were we that loud?" and when I thought about it for longer, it actually got me pretty mad. Denise was most likely my one shot at sex for the rest of my life, no matter how long. I strayed from the subject, fearing I might kill someone if I produced enough rage. I laughed at the thought, me killing someone. I brushed my teeth and went to bed, hopefully this would all turn out to be a twisted nightmare. That night, I layed on my bed for hours thinking about what is going to happen. I thought about how a man of my little experience in anything is going to find a cure. But what if there were surviving doctors and physicians working on it every waking minute of the day? That was a possibility. So why would I waste my time fumbling around with a microscope. Better yet, I could be out killing those things, fighting the hordes of the undead one by one rather than taking them on like the military did. They were blindsided by power, that was for sure. But muscle couldn't beat quantity there. That was something I could definately agree with myself on. It only took a minute to start with the images. First it was the military, getting slaughtered. Then, I thought about Denise. If she was my last chance, I would have to keep her alive. I could quite possibly make her my sex slave. I immediately swatted the thought out of my mind. I wasn't like this. Maybe this appearance of monsters was turning me into a monster. I spent the rest of the time awake trying to pick out how I had changed since the outbreak. I eventually was able to fall asleep, but didn't get much shut eye. I was rudely awakened at six in the morning by the sound of a loudspeaker. The sun was just peeking over the horizon at this time, so I was positive the zombies weren't out. I walked outside to see an army helicopter. I couldn't quite understand their ramblings, but I zoned out a few key terms. If I were to repeat what I heard, I would say something along the lines of this: "Attention survivors. We have been informed that Chicago is the heart of the infection. The Army has no choice but to proceed to use the "Hammer Down" tactic to try to obliterate the virus. Good luck." Obviously I had to add in a few words here and there, but I felt pretty confident in my translation. The rumblings of the helicopter got quieter and quieter until I could no longer hear them. I rushed up stairs to wake Nick up. I would immediately tell him about the Hammer Down tactic and hopefully he would know something about it. I had trouble waking him up until he finally opened his eyes. He had a drained expression on his face, so I knew there wasn't going to be full mutual understanding in what I was going to say. What the hell, I thought, I'll say it anyway.
"Nick, just a few minutes ago this chopper flew by. Some redneck military guy was screaming into this megaphone about a "Hammer Down" tactic they're using on Chicago to try and obliterate the virus." Nick's eyes widened at my statement. Clearly, something was wrong.
"Hammer Down? That has to be bad. I think I saw it in a movie once, but I can't think of the name." He stuttered. This was not good, Nick was at such a nervous level he was unable to recall the title of the movie. Through my childhood, all we ever did was discuss film. He clearly was not going to be able to remember it for a while.
"I'm going out." I said, breaking his train of thought.
"Okay, I'm gonna go check on Denise."
"Hold it right there. I'll take care of it." On that note, Nick fell sound asleep, assured he didn't have to do anything. I brushed my teeth and grabbed Denise. Still drowsy, she questioned my forcefullness, answered by cold silence. I swung her out the door and dragged her reluctant self to the car. I drove for miles on end, sometimes forgetting Denise was in the backseat. I stopped at a totally random spot, and threw her out.
"What the ****!" she screamed at me. I didn't care about her. She was useless. She was the temptations that would lead to the end of me. Still, in silence, I drove off, hands tight on the wheel. My knuckles were white with fury. I had no idea what I had become. I've never cared so little about a human before in the length of my life. My eyes swelled up, but it was too late to turn back. What was done was done. A single tear didn't leave the surface of my eye the entire ride home.
X- Salutations to Solemnity
Once I had dispatched any thoughts of going back to rescue Denise, both my mind and body were at peace. Going to the library had completely slipped my mind until I hit the blood stained driveway of Nicks house. The second thing that had occurred to me was that there was already a vehicle there. A truck, sloppily parked, took up the entire driveway. At first I didn't see anything wrong with it. I traveled a bit further towards his house until it hit me. Everyone else who was surviving was likely to be in a similar state of paranoia as I was. It could be another psychopath. I parked in the middle of the street, and rushed inside, nearly forgetting my keys in the ignition. I burst through the door in time to see a meek looking family grouped around our television. I was about to curse, but I caught myself, seeing as there was a young child in my presence. I decided to take it easy.
"Hello." I mumbled.
"Hi. I can't thank you enough for you and your friend helping us out here." The obvious matriarch stuttered, overwhelmed with a mixture of graciousness, but at the same time, intense concern.
"Excuse my manners," The mother went on,"My name is Leanna. This is my husband Norbert, and my child Precious."
"Precious. Thats an interesting name." I retorted, still sort of furious Nick allowed this. But still, I was indifferent to how many survivors we would harbor, as long as they were all willing to save our lives with haste. I walked past them quickly to see the basement door wide open. Figuring Nick was down there, dumbfounded about his bedfellows disappearance, I turned around. Figuring Norbert may know a thing or two about anything I decided to benevolently interrogate the fellow.
"So, Norb. What do you do for a living?"
"Me? Oh, I was a teacher."
"Was?"
"Yeah. I retired about three months ago, when the school year ended."
"Your retired and you still have a young child?"
"Yes. Leanna is much younger than I."
"I see."
"So, Mr...I didn't catch your name."
"Nick."
"Nick. My brothers name was Nick. Hmm...What do you do for a living?"
"Well, before all of this unraveled, I was a cop." When he heard that, Norbert licked his mustache-hugged lips in anxiety.
"Oh, the questions I've been dying to ask you."
"So was I. So, Norbert, you look like you might know a thing or two about the military."
"Oh sure, my oldest son served three tours in a row."
"Son?"
"Uhh..yes." Norbert sighed. I knew exactly what that had meant.
"KIA?"
"No. We never knew what happened to him. I would give my life to have my sweet sweet son Daniel return home." Upon hearing that, I quickly strayed from the subject.
"Do you have any idea what the Hammer Down strategy is?"
"No, I can't say I would." I frowned. I was hoping he would be able to tell me something valuable. All of the sudden I was interrupted by the television turning on. The news, again. A black woman was about to speak.
"This just in. The U.S. military is opening up a massive shelter at Soldier Field. They are not allowing more than 500,000 survivors. If you are out there, and you need to escape, hurry to Soldier Field. There are reported helicopters leaving the area to a safe outpost in Southern Illinois." I immediately ran into my room to pack my things, wallet, keys, rifle. I slung the rifle over my back, and filled a backpack with my clothes. I approached Leanna, who was frowning.
"Get your things ready, Leanna, we have to leave soon, before the stadium fills up."
"We don't have things. We were lucky to escape with our lives last night after those things swarmed our house. I have to go back."
"You can't."
"How come?"
"Because the daylight hurts them, but if they are inside, it won't matter. Your house could be flooded with them."
"I have priceless family heirlooms in there!"
"Their probably destroyed."
"Don't say that!" She slapped me across the face firmly, and ran outside. It was getting dark. I could only hope she wasn't so ignorant as to stay out there, or to run back to her own home. But, as always, things never turn out good for us. Me and Nick, and Norbert agreed that if she didn't return by noon tomorrow, we would go to the stadium. Sleeping that night was an impossible thing to do. Precious was sobbing about her mother, while Norbert unrelentlessly failed at calming her down. It was a shock I was able to fall asleep by three A.M. Norb was able to get Precious to calm down and we were all able to enjoy a nice few hours of rest. Or so I thought.
XI- A Hole in the Wall
I woke up again at 5:30, the sun just over the edge of my world. Faint light leaked in from the gaps in the blinds. I rubbed my eyes, and yawned for about a minute. I didn't yet realise what had awaken me, but I was sure I was soon to find out. After thoroughly investigating the house, I was dumbfounded. The only thing audible was the faint tap of a branch on the living room window. The sun wouldn't be up fully yet for another hour or so. The next thing that occurred to me that morning hit me nice and hard. There were no trees in the front yard. Coincedentally, I heard the shattering of glass. As I was upstairs, my first instinct was to wake Nick up. I ran into his room and started screaming.
"They got in!" I yelled, waiting for a reaction.
"The zombies got in!" I yelled again. Nick's sleepy headedness was still riding strong.
"Wha-?" he responded. I decided to give him a minute to recuperate, then he would see the problem in the zombies getting in. I ran out of the room and downstairs, to see the severity. One had crawled in, but fortunately didn't sense me. Still sprinting, I went into my bedroom and grabbed the rifle that was sitting next to my packed belongings. An image of Leanna jumped into my mind, but I was too busy to feel bad about what I had said. Afterall, she was the crazy one. Right? I loaded and armed the military grade rifle and skulked into the living room, gun aimed. I arrived and was startled by what I found. Nothing. The room was completely empty. Nick ran down the stairs with his gun out.
"Where are they?" he cried. Norbert and Precious followed closely behind him. All of the sudden, nearly six zombies burst through the remaining glass in the window. Precious shrieked. Upon her exasperated utterance, the ghouls averted their eyes to us. Nick started shooting, nearly uncontrollably, destroying the furniture around the beasts rather than at them. I began to shoot, with a little more patience, and before I knew it, only one zombie was left standing in the room. But, we lowered our guns. This zombie was different. This zombie was Leanna.
XII- Mending a Broken Past
I looked over to Norbert and Precious, still stooped on the stairs. Norbert's eyes swelled up, but Precious didn't seem to notice it yet. I looked back over to Leanna, unapparent with emotion to her past life loved ones.
"What should we do?" I whispered over to Nick.
"I dont know!" I looked back at Leanna, and to my suprise, she continued to just stand there with a dumb look on her face. Droplets of blood ran down her chin, leaking from her open blue lips. Norbert stood there, and did nothing. Assuming the role of fighter, and not feeler, I tackled Leanna and wrestled her to the ground, Norbert cried in shock as I hit his wife from her past life in the face. In a swift motion I pulled my rifle and rammed the barrel into her face, finger steady on the trigger.
"Dont!" Norbert cried, face fluctuating with emotion. This would have made a great movie scene, and Nick noticed it too. I could tell by how his face lit up when he looked over at Norbert. But Norb's cries were useless, the deed was already done. I realized what I had done only a few seconds after he shouted. I didn't fire, I was waiting for a good reason not to while I had the barrel up against her cold face. But that was the thing. In my short fit of anger I had actually impaled her with it, from chin to scalp. Norbert's face lit up in horror of what I had done.
"Precious, lets go." They left out the door with what they entered with. Nothing. They got into their truck and pulled out, speeding off. Towards the military fortress downtown, I assumed, which was where me and Nick were headed. Back on our own again. We both finalized any packing we needed to do, and also headed out. With a last goodbye to his home of 20 years, we packed into my Civic. Gun in hand, Nick sat passenger. We also pulled out, speeding to Soldier Field almost five minutes after our last harbored survivors.
XIII- Valhalla
We drove on the Eden's Expressway before Chicago's massive skyline shot up from the ground. It was inevidable that it wouldn't be as impressive looking as before, but it was still recognizable. Once we hit the bulk of the buildings, the streets became more and more crowded with empty cars and occupied cars. Me and Nick promptly got out of the car with our bags and ran the way to Soldier Field. It was about a mile away, but running beat sitting in traffic anyday. Especially when the other people were recently widowers, widows, or orphans. Everyone was bound to be pissed off, and traffic was salt on the wounds. Eventually, however, we started seeing soldiers mingled with the cars. Dead soldiers. Their bodies littered the sidewalks, and I knew at nighttime, they would turn. We continued to run until we started seeing living military personel, questioning survivors on all sorts of things. When we made it to the makeshift wall of Soldier Field, we were approached by a soldier.
"Afternoon." Nick grunted to him, eager to see what the fortress was like.
"Morning survivors." the soldier replied.
"Lets get this started. It's gonna be the usual, right?" A second soldier walked up.
"The usual?" I remarked, kinda worried about their methods.
"Yes. Its all a standard justification process to determine if you have the virus."
"Virus?" Nick questioned.
"Yes. How else do you think this happened. My theory is that it was some third world country megavirus that went around villages, but remained secluded. Until some dockworker gave it to a ship worker, and it carried on. The scientific name for it is necroparanyctophilium. Pretty much means things that come back from the dead and love the night. We call it B-virus."
"Whats it called that for?"
" ***** virus." The other soldier chuckled and strode off, the first soldier remaining serious.
"Lets get this started. follow me," The soldier led us through the gates. It wasn't exactly as elaborate as I had figured, but it had a nice touch. It looked right out of a movie. We continued to walk through to the stadium, where the seats were cleared out, and burlap tents poked up throughout the empty space. He continued to lead us in almost a seemingly random direction, curving through tents, until we came to a small structure with many sections of plastic piping holding up a huge blue tarp. He walked me inside first. I had already assumed what had to happen.
"Drop your pants, sir." Stunned by his forcefullness, I obeyed. After a minute of sufficiently akward undressing, he did a standard cavity search. He then flashed something in my eye and there was a loud beep.
"Good news. Your clean, no bites." He remarked. I quickly got dressed and exited the tent. Upon exit, I released a quick sigh of relief. Nick followed the soldier in there, and I assumed he had taken the same thing as me. I overheard most of the conversation, followed by a beep, but suddenly harsh tones of voice erupted.
"Your unclean. I must take action towards this now!"
"No!," Nick yelled. "Check me again." There was another beep.
"I apologize, you are clean."
"Thank you." Nick finished the conversation, walking out after getting dressed.
"Well, that would be all, survivors. Good luck, and I hope this place serves well to your needs at the time. Welcome to Valhalla."
XIV- Tailgate Parties from Hell
As a gift, me and Nick were given our guns back, provided we stayed responsible with them. Seeing as I was a cop in the past years, they were more sure about letting me have one. Luitenant Staton, is what they called me now. It made me proud, especially because I recieved some sort of special privelages from the officials. Simple things, like getting the first food rationing. Not much had happened in the time we spent at Valhalla. That was, until I started hearing of Olymyus. Apparently, all the population centers in the country had fortresses. I had heard nothing about it until I started hearing rumors of a better place. This was in Yankee Stadium, in New York. I guess all of these fortresses were code named after mythical places. As I got to know my tent neighbors, I gradually learned of more places like this. Tartarus was the camp in Mexico City. Los Angeles was nicknamed Atlantis. That was pretty much all I had heard of. And before I knew it, life got better again. Weeks started to pass as they had used to. Months started to pass. Before I knew it I had stayed at Valhalla for almost a year. Then, I got curious. Whatever happened to Norbert and Precious? I asked around. Nobody seemed to know. Until one day I was walking, and I came across and old man. He looked like he knew a thing or two about his surroundings, so I decided to ask him.
"Hello, sir."
"Afternoon, young man."
"Have you ever seen an African guy living here, with a daughter about nine years old?"
"What was his name?"
"Norbert." His eyes lit up.
"Oh yeah! I have seen him. We used to talk about a month ago. Apparently, he transferred."
"Transferred?"
"Of course, you didn't know you could transfer out of this dump?"
"No. Tell me more."
"Yeah. He went to go live in Atlantis."
"Really?"
"Yep. Some say its better than here."
"Hmm...I should look into that."
"You should."
"Thanks for all your help. Have a good one."
"You too." I ran off to go the the main building. They constructed a hall where you could go and enlist for certain things. It even had an infirmary wing. Once I got there, I applied for a transfer. I wasn't sure where, so I looked at the list. There was one in Canada. It was Montreal, but here it was called Niflheim, after the Norse planet of death. Going to Canada was always a life long dream. I could already feel the cold air under my clothing. Now, this was something I had been dedicated to. Snowboarding as a child was always so enjoyable, and I wanted dearly to pursue a career in it. I had dreamed of going to Canada since I was thirteen. Nick wasn't going to stop me, whether he cooperated or not. I filled out the form quickly and went back to my tent on the field. Eventually they would get back to me, with an acceptance or a denial message. Then another thought hit me, and it occurred to me I had a devilishly intense fear of flying. I always had imagined myself driving to Canada, but even if my transfer application did get accepted, we weren't going to drive there.
XV- Planet of Death
"Canada???" Nick shouted at me.
"Yeah. I'm leaving Chicago, Nick. And theres nothing you can do to stop me." I replied.
"Fine, I'm coming with."
"What? I didn't think you would."
"Yep. Friends have to stick together." There was truth in his statement, not to mention unignorable flambouyancy. He also sold his opinions and future way to easily. But why should he stay here anyway? There was no future. Our future depended on how long we could keep the zombies off of us. And we were losing. Not everyone was protected from them, we were lucky enough. Those who I had come to call "vagrants", were dead. Vagrants was a term survivors started to use to describe people who were surviving, but living outside of fortresses. I had heard of some successful civilizations going on. But they eventually would all fall. The zombies wouldn't waste their time on trying to break these walls forever. They had to get hungry, and desperate. I wondered if they resorted to cannabalism. Of course they had, they were humans. I realised I started thinking of them as totally different races. No longer as people like us. I didn't know when it had happened, but I also realised I had never had either of two dreams I had back about a year ago. The one where Nick was my doom, and the one about the bridges. Both had confused me, but had altered me. Generally, I didn't reminisce about these things. But my departure was set for tomorrow, and I would finally be going to Canada. Could the B-virus survive the cold? Then again, it didn't travel through the air. I slept that night easily, dreaming dreams of Canada. Me and Nick departed and it was all very routine. We boarded a helicopter a little past noon. But waited for about an hour before we lifted off. Mentally, I was kicking my feet, begging not to go. Until I heard Nick whisper to himself.
"Oh my God." I immediately looked out the window and saw just wreckage. There were no buildings anymore, and suprisingly, I didn't remember any of it ever happening. This must have been the Hammer Down strategy. That was when it popped into my mind. The movie, it was about some monster attacking. And the military's ground forces were failing, so they resorted to a hammer down strategy. They dropped bombs on the city. But apparently, this time, it failed. The zombies still were grouped up around Vallhalla. Everything was destroyed. I wanted to cry, but didn't. The fact that the zombies had been out during the day hadn't occurred to me for a few minutes. My head cocked over to the soldier chaperoning the flight, mind full of questions.
"What are they doing out?"
"Thats a great question. See, we've been studying the virus for almost two years now. The thing is, its the most complex virus our scientists have ever seen before. The B-virus takes complete control of every cell in the hosts body. Even skin cells, which causes them to slowly rot. Their immune system fails, but since the virus is so large in mass, it acts as a super-antibody."
"Thats crazy..." Nick whispered to himself.
"Because of this, it destroys any antidote we push into there. Now, the virus, as I mentioned earlier, is extremely complex. It can literally transform the genetic data stored in the hosts cells to adapt with lightning speed. Because not being able to go out in the light conflicted with the zombies eating habits, the virus altered the genetic data of the skin to make it tougher against light. It also changed their muscles so the least possible energy was used, minimizing sleep requirements. In other places though, like Quebec, where you are headed, the zombies adapted differently. Almost like a different species. Over there, since theres not that much sun-time, the virus didn't change anything in that field. But, something strange did occur with the virus. The zombies actually developed a thin layer of fur to protect against the cold. And their spine curved, making them more adept at running on all fours, like wolves."
"Thats bizzare. Do they share any other traits of wolves? Adept eyesight, hearing, sense of smell?" Nick questioned.
"They do. They have an incredible hearing capability, brought on by the virus. We have actually done testing considering adaptation of the B-virus. We imported a zombie from Valhalla, to our base in Mexico City, also known as Tartarus. In the fierce condition of the summer, we left it in a contained plantation in the desert. The virus created an ultra zombie, one that could survive off of the plants that grew in the area. Its skin adapted to the heat, and it grew a thin layer of crust on its feet, almost like paws, to protect against the hot dirt. Further testing has to be done on this particular project, but all of those adaptations took place in only three weeks."
My mouth dropped in horror. These zombies were tougher than I thought. I couldn't help but look back on the destruction. When I looked back, I saw only plains.
"Where are we?" I asked the soldier.
"Call me Alex." The soldier responded.
"Where are we, Alex?" I repeated. I hated repeating myself. An incompetent group member would kill me faster than the zombies themselves.
"Somewhere over Pennsylvania. You guys should probably get to sleep, we still have about three hours of flight left. I struggled to get some sleep, eager to see what dangers would lie ahead of me in Quebec. I dreamt dreams of fighting wolf zombies and allying with hidden Native American tribes who knew the way of the ghoul. Little did I know, my dream was about to become reality.
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