Dead Bodies - Cold Flesh 3

Dead Bodies

"Cold Flesh 3"

Written by:
Nicholas Thomson AKA MinionZombie "King of the Undead"

� July 31st 2002

"And if I got and prepare a place for you, I will come back and take you to be with me that you also may be where I am. You know the way to the place where I am going." - John 14: 3 - 4

Prologue:

In just one year, the dead rose, the dead walked and the dead took over.

Safe Water City was once a thriving community, but within eight days it succumbed to evil. The living were now fighting their dead who had been spat from the earth in which they were buried, the morgues in which they lay on cold steel or in the souls of those who were yet to fall.

Law and order were abandoned. Assault, robbery, rape and murder among a torrent of petty crimes rose astronomically. Previously model citizens turned into animals, acting out their sick fantasies on those in need in a time of crisis. They took advantage of the situation and paid in full with their lives.

Within the first month, Safe Water City was swamped with the living dead and slowly, the rest of the country was being consumed by the disease that cut through life like wildfire. The surviving citizens were forced to flee - run to the country where the population was sparse - but even there they found the horror all over again. No one could run and no one could hide.

Within a year, only handfuls of survivors were pocketed around the United States as the rest of the world began to crumble and it soon became apparent that the end was nigh.

Fear, madness and chaos reigned supreme.

*   *   *

The Safe Water City precinct was over run with meandering corpses above ground, but underground the now twisted building lay a previously sealed prison unit. This small prison was designed to be a secret holding place for some of America's worst criminals while they awaited sentencing or to be moved to a permanently secure unit. In special cases extra guards were drafted in to baby sit these criminals just in case anything was going to happen, but fortunately nothing ever did. Escape was not an easy thing to achieve.

Only one heavily guarded door led into a backroom within the precinct above which in turn led out to the rear courtyard while a rear door of the prison lay one mile in the middle of non-inhabited area outside the city. Between the equally heavy guarded rear exit lay several security check points - booths for sleeping cops most of the time - and a straight, mile long corridor. This prison was not known to exist by the residents and workers of Safe Water City, not even the mayor knew. Only the police chief and those who worked within the prison were aware of its existence, not to mention the prisoners and the government.

But since the early 1970's, the prison became less frequented by prisoners who were now being directly transferred as their crimes were becoming so appalling and they were becoming so dangerous that a half-way point was no longer needed. The prison was sealed.

Then the dead rose in Safe Water City and took over. The living fled to wherever they could to survive, some escaped the city, but not many. The majority perished within the city limits and a lucky few found strongholds, one of these strongholds was the underground prison. Three police officers who belonged to the Safe Water City precinct knew of it's existence and they were able to reopen the prison, gather as much in the way or supplies and survivors as they could and they locked themselves in to hopefully wait out the invasion. They thought they would be able to last. The dead had been walking for a few months before they entered the underground prison; it was in these first few months that surviving was a free-for-all. There was no time to think or plan; it was just do, but the time eventually came to seek a more permanent solution to survival in a world where the dead walked.

*   *   *

It was midnight and the glow of the moon shone down onto the Safe Water City landscape, but the peaceful scene was shattered by the howls of the decaying residents of what was once a great city.

Hicks was an ex-firefighter and was used to surviving in difficult situations, but surviving the dead was a challenge he was straining under. Nevertheless, he kept going everyday and created a routine for himself. Like several of the other survivors he was living with, he would walk the gloomy hallways of the underground prison checking for any weak points or disturbance. A frequent worry on his mind were the windows that lined the main corridor. The windows were small, but were certainly big enough to crawl through, he just hoped the steel shutters would hold. They were controlled by a system of cogs and gears that would grind slowly when put into operation, but that was infrequent. The steel shutters were surrounded by concrete on the outside as above them lay a perimeter wall of the city. It was an ugly feature of the city that had been in place since the previous century, but it was almost a landmark and steel plating was a common feature, whether it was access doors to the maintenance rooms inside that held water, gas and electric substations or just support structures. But what worried Hicks most about the mechanics of the windows was that the gears and cogs were put into motion by electricity. Judging from the state of the guts of the operating system, a power outage or even temporary failure could spark the gears and cogs into turning. After the switch had been flipped so to speak, the gears and cogs would work without electricity from what he could make out. It must have been a safety feature in case the previous occupants were trapped in some natural disaster and the power went down. The windows would open and that would be a means of escape if the doors were no good.

Hicks was again lying on his stomach on top of the Safe Water precinct, binoculars placed firmly over his eyes. He was scanning the area for any sign of life, he always thought there was an outside chance that someone might be signaling from somewhere. However, his frequent lookout sessions were always in vain. All he could see were the dead bodies that were strewn through the streets growling for food.
"Always the same," he said as he began to crawl backwards towards an access door that sat proud on top of the precinct.
The small hut-like construction housed two entrances, one that led down to the precinct which was now blocked and one that led down to the prison, in case of emergency, this would allow escape for a helicopter to act as pick up, but it was guarded by yet more security check points, all of which were long since abandoned.

Opening the door and crawling inside, Hicks was able to stand up straight again to descend the rusting metal stairs. As he staggered downstairs, the cold began to swirl around him. He was now back underground.

"Hicks, there you are!" came a sudden voice.
Hicks looked up to see who it was.
"Where have you been? Up star gazing again huh?"
It was Brett, one of the three police officers who had given him sanctuary.
"Ready for the rounds?" asked Brett.
"Sure."
The two men walked towards the main control center of the prison to pick up their weapons as well as Stan and Richards.
"Come on you lazy lumps of shit, get moving," laughed Brett as he entered the small control room.
Stan and Richards were both slouched in their chairs, feet hoisted up on a table sat between them, playing cards and betting their now worthless money.
"Oh man! I was just getting lucky too!" moaned Richards.
"You could never get lucky, even if you had horseshoes on your feet and pots of gold coming out of your ears!" laughed Stan.
The men all grabbed their weapons and proceeded to exit the confined room.

Midnight walks around the prison were a common thing to do now; it was their little routine now. It consisted of checking the main access door, the steel shuttered windows along the main corridor and finally the access at the rear of the complex, one-mile away. If anything it was a way to keep active and not descend into expanding masses like a couple of the other survivors that were living down in the depths of this underground prison, namely Don and Olsen. These two kept much to themselves and always appeared together wherever you saw them, they were rougher than the others, but they appeared to just be typical louts trapped in hell, harmless.

The main access door was secure, as always, and after they checked it they sealed the gates surrounding it. These gates were two sectors, which were barred off by heavy steel locked into the concrete floors, but despite looking safe enough, Hicks and some of the others were beginning to worry about them.

"These things don't look as good to me as they once did you know," said Hicks. "I bet they looked a lot better back in their day."
"You're right, or so my daddy used to tell me. He worked down here and he kept going on about this part of the prison to me, going on about how tough it was, like it was impenetrable fortress or something. Yep, these things have seen better days," replied Stan.

They continued about their parade around the complex, quickly checking the, as usual, safe windows, which were, as usual, sealed by their steel shutters.
"Same old, same old," sighed Richards.
"What?" muttered Stan. "That's good though."
"I know."
"What are you saying? You want those zombies to come bursting in here to spice things up a little?" said Stan was a confused look swamped him.
"Well no of course, it's just boring is all. My brain is getting soft in here or something."
"Don't worry Richards, your brain was always soft, now come on, we've got two miles to walk tonight, just like last night and the night before and the night before that," smiled Hicks as he walked on through.
"I hate this job," grumbled Richards.
"Way ahead of you there," replied Stan.

The walk was long and mind numbing, but it had to be done, they had to check the rear entrance just in case. But as always it was secure and the sound of only a couple of zombies outside could just be heard over their own breathing, just a couple of wheezing corpses shambling around somewhere outside.

Hicks stepped up to the door and looked all around, checking the heavy steel hinges before dropping to his knees and placing his ear down to the small crack at the bottom of the door. A cold chill was flowing through and he could faintly hear the footsteps of the dead outside.

Suddenly the sound of a sharp thud could be heard against the door, which made Hicks leap to his feet and ready his gun as he pushed the others back behind him. But everything was okay so it seemed.
"They can smell us inside," mumbled Hicks as he slowly began to push everyone away from the door so they could make their walk back to the prison and their beds.

*   *   *

A gentle hum ran through the prison complex as buzzing strip lights overhead threw light to the ground. It had just gone three in the morning and only Don and Olsen were awake. They had been asleep most of the day, which was their usual practice, so that they could avoid being around the others. They kept to themselves and remained as a pair distant from everybody. In their past lives before the dead rose, they had been typical local ruffians, bar flies � those who drained the economy for doing nothing. The pair had taken over the control room for the next few hours while the rest slept.

�What you got Olsen?�

Don glanced over to his equivalent who was, like him, sat slouched in his chair with his feet up on the table. Olsen shuffled his cards about for a second and then looked up at Don.

�Three kings,� he replied as he laid out his cards.
�Son of a bitch!� Don threw his cards onto the table so that they scattered, some falling to the floor, the others landing amidst a small pile of money in the center of the table.
�Pleasure doing business with you again,� laughed Olsen as he pulled the small pile of cash in towards him.

Money wasn�t any good anymore though; it meant nothing and could buy you nothing. Money could only be used as toilet paper pretty much now, it was useless, betting bullets or cans of food would have been much more profitable for the victor.

Don folded his arms and grunted as he sighed, letting his bad breath filter its way over to Olsen.

�Jesus Christ, Don! Aim that stench somewhere else!� coughed Olsen as he waved his hand in front of his face.
�Fuck you asshole, get back to counting your money.�

Their words could be heard down the corridor, the door to the control room having been left open. The noise clattered around the concrete maze and trickled through the ventilation system.

�Shit man, I�m getting sick of being stuck down here in this hole,� grumbled Don.
�I know what you mean man, we�re cut off.�
�Ain�t got no freedom, ain�t got no drink, got nothing!�
�Pretty much yeah, except we do have something remember chief,� laughed Olsen.
�Oh yeah, well, we do got something to keep us entertained down here, that is true. It�s about the only reason I ain�t gone nuts in this shit hole.�
�I hear that!�
�Where is she anyway?� asked Don who sat up in his chair.
�Duno man, but she�ll be in one of those rooms down the hall where they all sleep no doubt.�

Don paused for a moment.

�Maybe it�s about time we paid her a visit again, make sure she keeps quiet and all that.�
�Oh I think that�s a plan,� grinned Olsen as he too sat upright.

Monica�s room was blacked out, the lights were off and only a small slither of light came from under the door. She lay awake on her back, listening to the sounds of Don and Olsen in the control room, muttering something, but what it was she wasn�t quite sure. It was no good, she couldn�t sleep. She rolled over to the edge of the bed and sat up, searching for her shoes in the dark before heading over to the door. Pausing for a moment to check, she listened out just in case Don and Olsen were in the corridor, but she could hear nothing.

Carefully, Monica pulled on the door handle and opened the door. Stepping out into the artificial light stunned her and she screwed up her eyes for a moment to readjust. She was hungry and so headed off towards the stock room, which was one of the last rooms in the complex before the long corridor that led to the rear entrance.

The storeroom was small, but quite well stocked with boxes of tinned and dry food as well as bottles of water. She picked open a box of crackers and took a small bottle of water from a crate before sitting down on the floor, leaning against the cold wall. It was good to get some food, even if it was just crackers and water, it was better than nothing though.

�Right, let�s go find her then,� said Don as he stood up.
�Yep,� replied Olsen who continued to grin as he too stood up.

The pair walked out of the control room and began to stroll down the main corridor. All along the left hand side were doors which led to separate rooms or other smaller corridors.

�Which one was she last staying in?� asked Don.
�Not sure, but I think it was this one,� replied Olsen as he stepped over to one of the doors.

He turned the handle quietly and opened the door a crack. The shaft of light illuminated the room enough to see that it was empty, Monica was not inside.

�She ain�t in there, but I figure this is still where she sleeps, her stuff is all over the place.�

Don glanced down the corridor and thought for a moment, where could she be?

�Maybe she went for a snack?� said Don as he began to walk towards the stock room.
�Maybe.�

The pair quietly strolled down the corridor and eventually came to the stock room door. They paused for a moment and looked around carefully, making sure there was nobody following them or ducking behind the few crates that were scattered along the side of the main corridor. Suddenly, the door to the stock room opened and Monica appeared. Her eyes widened as she stepped back, she knew what was coming as the duo stepped inside, their faces plastered with leers.

�Been a while cupcake,� said Don as he grabbed Monica by the shoulder. She was quivering and thrashed her arms around trying to grab onto anything or find something to threaten them with, but there was nothing around.
�Feisty huh. Is this the game tonight?� grimaced Olsen as he stepped over, pushing her down onto the floor roughly.

Monica looked up at the pair who stood towering over her, their faces dimly lit as the lights behind them turned them into slobbering silhouettes.

Olsen then dropped to his knees and crawled around so that he was behind her. Monica looked back and watched Olsen grab her by the wrists so that she couldn�t fight back.

�Don�t wrestle Monica, you don�t want this to be like the last time do you?�

Monica stopped squirming, she knew it was no good to try and fight, she just squeezed her eyes shut and tried to block it out, escape to somewhere else, inside her head to hide in the darkness, to stay out of sight and eventually, the grunts and leering laughs of Don and Olsen soon faded away.

*   *   *

It was another beautiful day in Safe Water City. The sun beamed down harder than it had ever done before and illuminated the entire city effortlessly. The orange seven a.m glow was almost blinding, it had never been so bright in the city before, there had always been a film over everything. A dirty layer of smog, but everything that caused that filth had ceased and the air was clearing up.

Kate sat alone on the roof of the police station, like Hicks; she liked to come up to observe the city, especially in the early morning when everything seemed so sleepy. It was quiet, slightly unnerving as this used to be a bustling metropolis, but in some strange way she liked this better. Congestion, commercialism and everything else that came with a city always bugged her, but it was her home. She couldn�t afford to leave and although she could have left with the drop of a hat, she probably never could have if she tried. There was something about Safe Water City, something that just whispered home. But that was all crumbling around her and soon the horrid reality hit her across the face.

As she sat cross-legged on the hot tar roof and chewed on crackers for her breakfast, she became aware of the howls, the wheezing and the shuffling noises from the streets below. The zombies were coming out for the day. It was just like before; they all looked like workers heading off to their places of business to sell stock all the way down to sweeping floors. But these things had no purpose now. It was like mankind had just failed and that was that.

The sound of the door behind her squealing open made Kate jump and she quickly turned and stood upright. But it was just Hicks, he was coming up for his breakfast too.

�Popular place huh?� he said rubbing his eyes, squinting as the bright sunlight hit him.
�Certainly is. Beautiful day isn�t it?�

Hicks took a moment to un-blur his eyes and assess the situation.

�It really is isn�t it?�

For a moment Hicks just looked around the area, watching the wind blow light debris around the streets, windows and doors of empty buildings creak and clatter open and shut and the slight collective hum of the living dead throughout the mass of steel and glass. He closed his eyes and savored the moment before taking a deep breath to smell the morning air. It had never been cleaner and fresher.

�So what�s for breakfast then?� sighed Hicks as he sat down beside Kate.
�Well today Sir we have the finest caviar, shrimp as a side order, bacon, eggs and sausage with a tall glass of chilled orange juice to wash it all down.�

Kate handed over the small packet of dry crackers and then ate the last of her breakfast before leaning back, holding herself up with her hands pressed down on the hot tar of the precinct�s roof.

�Couldn�t get any better than this could it?� Hicks said softly as he removed one cracker from the small packet.
�I don�t think it could, Hicks. Don�t think it could.�

The pair sighed and continued looking around the cityscape, their eyes darting from towering skyscrapers right down to the littered sidewalks where the first specimens of a new era began to creep around hopelessly searching for food.

�Do you think they�ll ever go away?� asked Kate as she closed her eyes, hoping.

Hicks paused for a moment.

�I hope so.�

Then the silence was shattered. The alarm was blaring out, something was wrong. In seconds Hicks was half way down the stairwell, proceeding back to the prison with Kate following.

�What happened?� yelled Hicks as he re-entered the prison, directing his question towards the control room.
�Power blip! There was a goddamn power blip!� replied Brett as he grabbed a shotgun from the small steel closet in the control room.

He dashed into the main corridor and proceeded around a slight corner where a sudden commotion was emanating from.

�Hicks! Get your ass in gear!� ordered Richards as he and Stan both bolted from the control room, also carrying shotguns as they too disappeared round the slight corner.

The sound of one man yelling as another screamed boomed throughout the main corridor, snapping Hicks back to reality. He darted forward and turned the corner to see Don wrestling with one zombie, which was gripping onto his shoulders tightly. It was half way through the small window, which had long since been broken, presumably during one of Olsen�s drunken adventures around the complex.

�Shoot this fucking thing!� growling Don as he began to drag the rest of the rabid creature through the window and into the main corridor. �Shoot it!�

As the monster slid through the small window, it�s weight made Don stagger backwards and fall to the floor, the zombie following his descent so that it landed right on top of him. Stan, Richards and Brett tired to help pull the zombie away, but it continued to grip onto Don who resumed his wrestling match with it, rolling around on the floor like a desperate man on fire. But suddenly, as Don punched the creature in the jaw, it grabbed hold of his arm and swiftly ripped a chunk of meat away. As his blood oozed profusely out of the gaping wound, Don fell back and crawled away to lean against the cold concrete wall.

�Go check on Don!� shouted Brett, Stan quickly following his orders.
�Hicks, hold this bastard down!� yelled Richards.

Hicks darted over and joined the fray, holding the creature down by its arms pulled behind its head. But the monster kept struggling and writhing, its legs flailing around wildly.

�Get the legs!� ordered Brett.

Richards complied and slid down the zombie�s body to hold the legs down.

�Shoot him!� shouted Richards.
�Hicks, when I say �now,� you let go of its arms, got it?�

Hicks nodded and awaited his orders.

Brett stepped over the writhing beast so that his legs were either side of it�s waist.

�Ok Hicks, now!�

Hicks let go of the creature�s arms and jumped out of the way, giving Brett a safe shot. Without hesitation he pulled the trigger and blasted the zombie�s head wide open. The slowly, as the sound of the blast ran up and down the corridor, everything slowly became quiet again, just the sound of Don gasped and grunting as he clutched at his gushing wound and the wailing alarms.

�Hicks. Would you be so kind and go and turn off those alarms and close these windows?� said Brett as he and Richards stepped away from the limp corpse.

Hicks took a breath and catch up with events and stood upright before walking back to the control room. The alarms ceased and the grinding of cogs and gears rang out, cutting away the daylight from the main corridor.

�What the hell happened?� gasped Kate as she glanced down the corridor from outside the control room.
�What I was afraid of happening happened,� sighed Hicks as he came out from the small room and began to walk back down the corridor.

*   *   *

The sun had risen high into the sky and was burning at its brightest. The entire city was alive almost, rejuvenated by the mid-day sunlight like dying plants kept in the dark. It seemed to be breathing again, but the streets weren�t teaming with businessmen, shoppers and everybody else who lived in the city, the city was just crawling with a new disease. A new means to an end.

Hicks was standing on the roof alone, staring down at the masses spread throughout the streets and darkest of alleyways. The brainless forms meandered in and out of the buildings that were long since battered by gangs in the early weeks, but by now they had all either fled the city in search of more treasure or had perished. His face was stricken with sadness and hopelessness, but Hicks continued to regulate his breathing to try and stay calm. At times all he wanted to do was break down and cry or scream out loud and just destroy everything. His head pounded with his inner conflict, making his temples ache and buzz until he could stand no longer and was forced to shakily crouch down on his knees. With his hands hanging limply between his knees, Hicks looked down at and stroked them gently to make sure he was still all there, make sure he was still human. To make sure he could still feel.

Then the peaceful moment was shattered once again, but this time by Winters, a ragged looking man who stepped onto the roof, emerging from the darkness of the stairwell.

�Ah Hicks, there you are,� he said pleasantly as he walked over to the kneeling man. �Are you okay, Hicks? You don�t look well.�

Winters descended to one knee and looked closely into Hicks� eyes for a moment until he snapped back to reality.

�Winters? What are you doing up here?�
�Ah Hicks, you are awake. Good to know.�
�What is it Winters?� sighed Hicks as he rubbed his worn hands over his face.
�I came up to talk about Don.�
�What about him? How�s his condition?�
�He took a bad bite as you well know, and as you well know, when this happens, it�s not good news,� continued Winters.
�So you�re saying he�s a dead man, that right Doc?�
�I�m afraid so Hicks, yes.�

Glancing at Winters, Hicks took a deep breath and slowly let it filter out through his still lips.

�How long has he got left?�
�I don�t figure too long. The bite was very deep and went through a major artery. By the time you got him to me he had lost a hell of a lot of blood. I�m afraid the virus can and is spreading at great speed. With less blood to infect, there are fewer anti-bodies, which usually slow it down. But with the trauma he suffered, I figure he�s only got a few hours left.�
�Well at least it wasn�t me or one of the more useful members of the group,� said Hicks sharply. �That bloated mess never lifted a finger to help anybody but himself. He�s better off dead.�

Hicks stood upright and tensed his muscles again having regained his hard-edged fa�ade.

�When he goes, you let me know.�
�Understood. I�d better get back and check on how he�s doing. He might not even make it through the afternoon.�
�Well the sooner he�s gone the better, I don�t think anyone will miss him, do you?� replied Hicks softly.
�I don�t think so.�
�Good, then we�ll disband with the usual pleasantries. Olsen can say goodbye if he wishes, but other than that, nothing special. I�m not wasting my time with it.�
�Understood.�
�Oh and Winters, tell Brett and Stan I want their assistance this afternoon.�
�What with?�
�I want to get some trucks or any mode of transport that can get us the fuck outta here if need be, or if worst comes to worst, getting supplies so we don�t die of starvation in here.�
�That�s a good plan,� replied Winters as he began to slowly back towards the door.
�And one more thing.�
�Yes?�
�Tell Olsen I want him to join us. It�s about time that son of a bitch did something around here to help.�

Winters nodded and turned on his feet, quickly scurrying back into the dark stairwell to disappear, his footsteps slowly fading away to nothing. Again, Hicks was alone on the rooftop, staring at the city that lay ahead.

Time ticked away slowly, it almost didn�t matter anymore. Nobody knew what day of the week it was anymore, they only just had a rough idea of what month it was. As the sun nudged itself across the sky, Hicks returned to the surface of the roof to sit. Placing his head in his hands he relaxed and began to drift away to somewhere else. But all he could think about was his past life.

Hicks was once a fire fighter for the Safe Water department. He enjoyed his job and always thrived off the adrenaline of entering a burning building to save the day and rescue those in need. He felt like a hero, like the heroes he imagined when he was a child watching Saturday morning serials. But eventually it ran out, the feeling that you could help others, the feeling that you could make a difference. Hicks had always managed to save lives in every fire than threatened one. He was like a King among men, but a raging fire at a nursery school tore him to pieces. The initial call came in and it was like any other job, everybody racing to get there as quick as possible, diving straight in to save the day. But when they got there, the fire had gotten out of control. It was insane. The gas main had cracked and been leaking gas since the night before. The building was engulfed.

Hicks leapt from the fire truck and threw his gear on as he ran towards the flames. He could hear the screams beginning to fade away underneath the bellowing roar of the disaster. His eyes were wide with fear as he crashed through the doors, the blast of heat hitting his like a freight train, but he kept going. As flames licked the ceiling and walls all around him, he crept through the small corridor, checking each of the small rooms until he reached the last room. He could hear the children inside coughing and crying out for their mothers as their teacher desperately gagged for help, they were fading fast and as the horror of the situation washed over Hicks, the screaming began to thin out. He called out to them to hold on as he stepped back from the door. He ran at it again and again, barging his shoulder into the blistering and buckling door, but it wouldn�t shift. Suddenly, an explosion shook the building. Glass shattered and the heat intensified as the screams became even more drowned in terror and desperation. �Hold on!� he pleaded as he grabbed a fire axe from a fallen firebox. He bashed and bashed at the door, shredding the swollen wood so that he made a hole and could see inside. The children were huddled around their teacher, their smoky faces smeared with tears, gripping onto each other�s burning bodies. �I�m almost there!� screamed Hicks as he continued to thrash at the door and just as he managed to knock it from it�s hinges, another explosion rocked the building.

Hicks fell to his feet with the shock, it was bigger than the one before and as he looked up to the ceiling he could see the flames were even more enraged. The colourful paint that once adorned the walls stripped off, the metal door handles melting with the intense heat. The smoke was thick and swirling everywhere, it was like being at war thought Hicks as he struggled to regain his footing. Crawling over to the door behind which the children and their teacher were hiding in terror, he could hear no screams, no cries, nothing. He stopped at the entrance to the small room and confronted with only a wall of flame that consumed the entire area, he sank.

Hicks was dragged from the building, he was unconscious having been struck by a falling beam as the horror of failing to save so many innocent children flooded his brain. He lay on the stretcher as his co-workers drenched the building with several hoses, but it was some time before the flames died back and eventually all that was left was a smoldering shell, huddled somewhere inside a dozen bodies. After that nothing had any meaning, everything fell apart.

With his head still in his hands, Hicks began to tremble and weep and he remained there alone for a short while.

But then he was interrupted again, this time by Emma who had not seen Hicks all day. She had heard about Don and the one zombie getting inside, she hoped that Hicks was okay.

�Hicks? Hicks, are you okay?� she said quietly as she knelt down in front of him. �What�s wrong, what�s happened?�

She reached out her hand and softly stroked his knee to comfort him for a moment and then he removed his head from his hands, wiping the tears away as subtly as possible as he did so. He coughed and cleared his throat before looking at Emma�s concerned face.

�What is it?� she said as she took hold of his hand.
�Nothing, nothing. Just a bad dream is all.�
�It didn�t look like nothing, Hicks.�

A short silence befell the pair.

�Just remembered something from before, from what I used to be,� muttered Hicks as he wrestled to regain his tough composure.
�Something from before? You mean when you��

Hicks looked back at her.

�When you were a fireman?�
�How did you know that�s what I used to be?�
�Oh come on Hicks, you were always in the paper. You saved so many people; you were so brave and kept going into those burning buildings when other people wouldn�t even dare. There are a lot of people who owe you their lives.�
�But they�re all dead now. I saved them from the fires sure, but now they�re all dead anyway. I saved them from one death and left them to die in more pain.�
�Nobody could have seen this coming Hicks. Nobody. You did your job and you did it better than everybody else.�
�But I didn�t, I failed. Surely you know.�
�What do you mean?�
�Emma, you were looking at the papers, you saw it, you saw the fire at the nursery school. They all died.�

A sudden silence befell the pair again.

�Was that what you were dreaming about?�
�Yeah,� sighed Hicks as he closed his eyes, taking in a slow, deep breath.
�Hicks, it wasn�t your fault. You did everything you could have ever done to save them. It just wasn�t to be. God didn�t wish for it to work out how it should have done.�
�You don�t know what it�s like, you don�t.�
�What?�
�You don�t know what�s it like.�
�What do you mean?�
�What it�s like to be responsible for the lives of potentially everyone in the city and then fail to fulfill it! You don�t know what it�s like to hear a dozen toddlers screaming in pain as their skin burns! You don�t know what it�s like to see them obliterated by a fireball!�

Hicks descended into the nightmare again as it was now verbalised. He had never spoken of it so frankly before, and it was seven years in the past.

�God just wouldn�t let it happen how it should have. It was just the way it was to be.�

Hicks suddenly clambered to his feet, glaring at Emma as he did so.

�God? You actually think there is still a God? Look at it, look at what�s going on here!� Hicks pointed out to the dying cityscape, crawling with the flesh eating plague. �There is no God!�

*   *   *

It was 2 p.m and Hicks, Brett and Stan were ready and waiting in the control room for Olsen to arrive. They had already armed themselves with shotguns and were carrying enough ammo to last them a fleeting battle, but no more.

�Why the hell have we got to take Olsen with us? He�ll be nothing but trouble!� grumbled Brett.
�Yeah, he�s gonna fuck this up somehow, I just know it. I gotta bad feeling,� continued Stan.
�That lazy son of a bitch isn�t here for a free ride. For months now he�s not lifted a finger along with Don, but with Don out of the picture in a few hours, he won�t have any influence. Besides, the guy�s probably a criminal from beforehand or grew up in some white trash pit where schooling went as far as hot wiring cars, we might be able to use him for once.�
�But still, he�s more trouble than he�s worth!� snapped Stan.
�Yeah, he�s fatter than a retired mule and slower than one too, he�ll keep us lagging.�
�I don�t care, maybe we�ll get lucky and he�ll get bit too and then we can scratch him off the payroll too.�
�We�re getting paid for this?� said Stan.
�He didn�t literally mean it,� sighed Brett.
�Oh.�
�I hope you�re more awake out there than you are now,� said Hicks as he too sighed and shook his head.

Hicks stepped outside the control room and glanced down the main corridor, Olsen had still not arrived.

�Olsen! Hurry your ass up!� bellowed Hicks who was growing ever more impatient. �Come on man! We�ve gotta job to do!�

The main entrance to the prison led into a corridor, which connected the precinct with the parking lot outside. It was dark and dank and the groans of the few corpses shuffling around inside the precinct could be heard over the general hum of the building.

�You sure those fucks can�t get through that door, Hicks?� snapped Olsen.
�Olsen, not even you�re fat ass could knock down that door, it�s solid as a rock,� smirked Hicks as he opened up the door leading out into the sealed parking lot.

The sun hit them like a tidal wave, having come from darkness and artificial lighting to nature was a shock. They four men scrubbed their eyes with their free hand as they gripped onto their weapons.

�Well what the hell are we gonna use to get out there and get these trucks you keep talking about, Hicks?� said Olsen in his typically crass tone.
�We take the Chief�s car,� smiled Brett as he presented a set of car keys dangling from a novelty chain.
�Yeah so, where is it?�
�In the lock up you stupid bastard. You think we�d leave what could be our only transport hanging around out in the open when people were looking for any means necessary to get the fuck out of this place?�
�Lay off the insults fag, or you�ll regret it,� growled Olsen.
�You know you should watch your mouth and take some things on the chin for once in your life, Olsen. If it weren�t for us, you�d be dead or worse, walking around with the rest of those puss-bags. We could have thrown you out long ago instead of keeping you here where you do God knows what in the middle of the night with your buddy Don!�
�Hey! I could have easily slit your throat in your sleep you know; you shouldn�t be so flippant around me! I could kill your ass like that,� snapped Olsen as he clicked his fingers.
�Oh why don�t you go and join your friend back there huh? Just go and lie down dead for once.�
You watch your mouth you��
�Alright can this shit. You�re sounding like a bunch of kids. Shelve your petty differences and let�s go get these fucking trucks and get this over with, it�s already half two.�

Hicks grabbed the keys from Brett and jogged over to the lockup and opened the rusting metal door.

�Our chariot awaits gentlemen, now hurry the fuck up,� ordered Hicks as he stepped over to the driver�s side.

The men filtered into the musty lockup and clambered inside the car. The car was coated with a thin film of mud and dirt; the car hadn�t been washed for a long time before it was stored in the lock up.

�So what ever happened to the Chief?� asked Hicks as he inserted the keys into the ignition.
�Chief�s dead Hicks,� replied Brett as he adjusted himself in his seat.
�Well I�ll have to thank the Chief later for borrowing his car then.�

Hicks twisted the key and at first the car coughed and spluttered hopelessly, ticking and grinding as it tried to wake itself from it�s slumber.

�Shit man, this hunk of junk�s never gonna last the drive to the gate!� groaned Olsen.
�Patience Olsen, patience is a virtue you should learn,� said Hicks as he tried again and then again.

Then finally on the fourth try, the engine grumbled, spluttered and roared into action, the engine rocking from side to side as it freed the cobwebs from it�s pistons.

�I agree with Olsen, this thing had better last Hicks,� said Stan as he leant forward to see out the window.
�Have faith fella�s. Have faith.�

Hicks knew how hypocritical he was being, an hour beforehand he was shouting that God was dead from the rooftops, but he had calmed down a little having managed to push his nightmare back in his mind once again. The car pulled out of the lock up and stopped just short of the gate.

�Olsen, you get the gate,� ordered Hicks.
�Why me?� moaned Olsen.
�Why not you?�
�Fine!�

Olsen stepped out of the car and pressed the button to release the gates. The gears began to pull on the rusting metal entrance and it slowly pulled apart to let Hicks pull the car out onto the street. There were already zombies nearby, but fortunately there weren�t the swarms that there might have been. From his observations from the rooftop, a swarm was almost impossible to escape from. Olsen pressed the button again and the gates began to close again as he jogged over to get back in the car.

�But how the hell are we going to get back in? There�s no button on the outside!� stated Olsen as he slammed his door shut.
�This car�s got one of those electronic door openers. We use that.�
�And what if that doesn�t work?� asked Brett.
�One of us climbs the gate while the rest of us shoot zombies.�

The car pulled away and growled off into the distance leaving the surrounding zombies bemused, they had not seen any signs of life in a long time.

The target was a supply depot on the other side of the city. Hicks had seen it when he would walk to work when he was a fireman and as he remembered it, there was always a few trucks hanging around waiting to unload stock or waiting to be dispatched. There was a chance that there might be a couple of vans or a truck still there. If there was nothing there, a car dealership not to far away was to be the back up target.

�And there we have our transportation guys,� said Hicks as he pulled the car into the supply depot parking lot.

Two sizeable vans sat idle right in front of the four men as they ground to a half. Finally, a bit of luck thought Hicks as he looked at the three other men accompanying him.

�Olsen, you go to work on that one, Brett, Stan, you go and work on that one over there. I�ll be over to check on you Olsen, so don�t go getting any ideas, understand?�
�Don�t worry boss, I�ll be good,� said Olsen dryly as he saluted.
�Just go and hot wire the damn van already would you? Come on guys, get a move on.�

The three men complied and all exited the vehicle to dart over to their vehicles, keeping their shotguns beside them closely. Hicks looked around him as he stepped out of the Chief�s car, it was quiet, but not quiet enough for his liking. He could see a few specimens at either end of the street, which they were on and he could hear others in the distance. He pulled his shotgun from the car and rested it on his shoulder before walking over to Olsen�s van to check on his progress.

�Almost done?� he asked.
�Jesus Christ man! It�ll be ready when it�s ready alright?�
�Oh no rush, I just want be out of here before those zombies at either end of the street get here and bring their friends for dinner.�

Olsen paused for a moment and then hurried back to work, rushing his hands about the underside of the dashboard, tugging on wires, cutting and splicing them back together until he brought the van back to life. The diesel engine chugged and grumbled as it rocked back into action.

�It was about time you did something constructive Olsen. Now wait here and I�ll see what the others are up to. Keep an eye out for any zombies, if you see one, shoot it.�

Hicks dashed over to the second van and glanced in through the passenger window.

�Any luck fella�s?�
�Nearly there Hicks, just give me a�� said Brett.

The engine coughed and then finally roared into action.

�Minute.�
�Right, here�s the plan of action. I�m going with Olsen, he can�t be trusted on his own, so one of you is gonna have to take the Chief�s old car. So who�s it gonna be?�

Brett and Stan looked at each other, neither wanting to drive the comparatively flimsy saloon back to the precinct.

�Okay then, I�ll settle this. Stan, you�re driving the car,� said Hicks decisively as he started back to the first van.
�Oh man,� moaned Stan as he crawled out of the chugging transit, heading over to the saloon car reluctantly.

�We�re almost ready Olsen, get this thing in gear and lets lead the other two back home,� said Hicks as he made himself comfortable in the passenger seat.
�Whatever you say Sir,� mumbled Olsen.

The first van rolled to the end of the supply depot parking lot and turned into the street to be followed by Brett in the second vehicle and Stan in the car trailing behind. Like a mini-convoy, the trio of vehicles made their way back towards the precinct, passing by empty stores, long since looted of their possessions, apartment blocks burnt to the ground or sitting dead amidst the towering financial buildings and small time restraunts and cafes.

�Couldn�t have gone better could it?� said Olsen.
�Nope, I don�t think it could have. No hassle from those brainless bastards, no trouble getting these things started and full tanks of gas. How lucky is that?� chuckled Hicks as he looked up to the clear blue sky.

As they made their way through the streets, passing red lights and burnt out police cars, they became aware of a sudden hoard developing around them.

�Shit,� said Hicks as he leaned his head out the window to look back at the others behind. �Be careful!� he shouted back to Brett.

Brett nodded and looked into his mirror to watch Stan driving behind, his attention darting from one rotting face to another as the howls began to increase, filling the air.

�Watch out!� gasped Hicks as he tugged on the wheel.

The van pulled out of the way of a group of three zombies staggering into the road. In the side mirror, Hicks could see Brett narrowly miss the trio of cadavers so that they just clipped his wing but as Olsen looked in his mirror he watched as Stan struck the three twisted beings.

�Shit! Stan�s hit them!� he said as he kept on driving.
�What?� gasped Hicks as he leant out of his window again.

He was just in time to see Stan swerve from behind Brett�s van and career towards the curb. Stan had lost control, his attention had been drawn elsewhere and the sudden strike to the car was hefty enough to send his squealing off course. The car rocked on and off the curb, its wheels screeching as Stan hopelessly wrestled with the bucking vehicle.

�Stop!� shouted Hicks.

Olsen followed his orders and slammed on the breaks, as did Brett. The two vans squealed to a halt and as Hicks leapt out, shotgun in hand, Stan ploughed the car into a support post of a building. The rear of the car leapt into the air as Stan�s head smashed across the steering wheel, his blood decorating the shattered glass. Hicks looked on in horror as the car came to a rest, its petrol tank spewing forth like a flood as it had landed on the surrounding debris, which must have come from the building towering above the twisted metal of the Chief�s old car.

�Stan!� roared Hicks as he began to run towards the car, ignoring the living dead that were starting to close in on the halted convoy.
�No, Hicks, no!� bellowed Brett as he leapt from his van, running after him.

Suddenly, the car exploded and it was sent a few feet into the air as the flames licked the surround. The noise was deafening and echoed around the street. Hicks sank once again, like he had done before at the nursery school fire. Once again he had failed to save a life, it was becoming a sick trend it seemed to him.

�Come on Hicks! Come on! He�s dead, we�re gotta get outta here now!� yelled Brett as he tugged on Hicks� shoulders.
�No!� cried Hicks. �No!�
�Come on man! They�re closing in! Come on!�

Hicks reluctantly began to retreat as Brett pulled on him. The pair stepping backwards towards their vehicles.

�Shit!� screamed Brett suddenly.

He had backed into one of the advancing zombies who had swiftly taken a small chunk from his neck. The blood began to pour and Brett staggered around as he tried to race back to his van while Hicks dived into the fray and pushed the zombie to the ground before blowing its head off without a second�s thought from point blank range. A flood of gray matter and brown blood coated the street, but Hicks was more concerned about Brett whom he saw climbing back into his van.

�Go Hicks! Get going! I�ll be right behind you! Fucking move it!� bellowed Brett as he gripped onto his wound, which he considered more an inconvenience than anything else at that moment.

Hicks did so and ran back to the van as Olsen gunned the engine.

�Go,� said Hicks sadly. �Go.�

Olsen pulled away from the scene as Hicks watched Brett follow in the side mirror. He was grimacing at the pain, but was staying with it to make it back home. Brett wasn�t going to be torn apart on the streets, the only way he was going to die would be from his own doing.

*   *   *

The prison�s medical ward, which was merely a room, was situated at the heart of the complex. It was in a sorry state of affairs, grime covering the walls and floor, the salty smell of dry blood thick in the air and the humidity hitting you like a wave as you walked in. Don was lying unconscious on a battered gurney in the far corner of the room, his faded face was sunken and his arms hung limply off the side of the trolley.

�How long�s he got, Doc?� said Olsen as he stepped inside the humid room.
�Not much longer left. He�ll be dead within the hour,� said Winters with a cold snap in his throat, never turning to face Olsen as he talked.

As Winters went about his business, reorganising bottles of solutions, stacking petri dishes and bundling bloody bandages in clumps to throw away, Olsen walked over to Don and stood by his side for a moment. He looked at his friend�s deadened features, watched his chest slowly move up and down by a tiny degree and then finally, see him fade to nothing. Olsen wasn�t upset by it all; he just felt alone and threatened more than anything. When it was him and Don, there was a little security, but now it was him against all the others. It might not look like it on the surface of everything, but he and everybody else knew, that it was.

�He�s gone,� muttered Olsen as he walked out of the room, only just alerting Winters� attention.
�Okay then,� said Winters as he proceeded to arrange bottles on a small shelf opposite Don�s corpse.

And then as soon as Don�s footsteps were gone, faded down the hallway, Winters turned around and glanced over to the fresh body. He sighed, but not out of pity, more out of boredom of routine. Before he came down into the prison, he had been stationed all over the city, trying to do something to help, but of course he couldn�t. All he could do was administer shots of morphine to make the pain go away for a while at least. That and destroying the brain was his job. He wasn�t a doctor of any sort now; he was more akin to a man working on the abattoir killing line.

Then with not a shred of remorse or sorrow, Winters plucked a pistol out of the drawer in a cabinet beside Don�s gurney, loaded it and pulled back the hammer. He aimed it and fired one round quickly into Don�s head. A spurt of blood and cranial matter burst outwards and sprayed onto the wall, trickling downwards slowly before making a small puddle on the floor. Again, Winters sighed, but not because of the sad situation, merely because he had to clean up the mess. He placed the gun back in the drawer of the cabinet and hoisted the sheet covering Don�s body over his shattered skull. The blood seeped into the crusty white colouring, leaving a large patch, which almost shrink wrapped itself around the form of Don�s head, a crater appearing where the bullet smashed through.

�Right, about time for dinner,� said Winters as he glanced up at a clock on the wall, which read �5:01pm�

As he removed his gloves and lab coat, he stretched his back so that his spine cracked, injecting instant satisfaction and relief into his system.

A small dining hall was the center where the group would gather for meals, meetings and sometimes just as a place to talk, even share a few jokes and stories from their normal lives. The noise bounced around the room, but it was quieter than it had been before, most noise only coming from moving chairs or general background white sound. Hicks sat on his own at a large table, his head lowered, staring at his plate on which sat one cracker and a spoonful of rice. He played with a small cup of water, dipping his finger in and out of it, watching the small droplets fall from his finger and be reabsorbed. Kate and Emma sat together and quietly talked amongst themselves like they always did, but there had been no sign of Monica all day. They were concerned, but just thought she needed some time to herself. She always seemed to be more withdrawn; remaining closed off to everybody else.

As Winters entered the cramped dining hall, he could see the segregation set up and so mentally planned where he would sit to conform to that evening�s seating arrangement. Richards sat stood at a rickety table arranging his meal. One spoonful of rice, one cracker and a small cup of water. He walked away and proceeded towards Hicks as Winters approached the table to make his meal.

Hicks sighed as Richards sat down quietly beside him. A short silence persisted until a pistol was placed on the table beside Hicks.

�He said to tell you �thanks�,� said Richards softly as he slid the gun nearer to Hicks.

Without saying a word, Hicks picked up the gun and removed the magazine, placing it on the table to his right side. He then placed the gun in the back of his trousers and continued prodding his meal with his finger before finally making the plunge, devouring the meager amount of solids and swallowing the small cup of water. Hicks ran his tongue around his mouth, searching out any rogue grains of rice and then stood up, picking the magazine off the table as he did so.

�Where is he?� asked Hicks.
�He said he wanted to be left in the lockup,� replied Richards remorsefully.
�But what about burial?�
�He said he wanted to fade away like everybody else did. He said he was tired of the whole idea,� continued Richards with a slight chuckle in his voice.

Hicks let a crooked smile creep to the corner of his mouth as he began to walk to the door and leave the room. If that�s what Brett wanted, then so be it.

�Where do you think Monica has gotten to?� whispered Kate.
�I don�t know, she hasn�t been around all day, do you think she�s alright?� Emma replied.
�Maybe she�s just down or something, you know how she finds it hard sometimes.�
�Kate, we all find it hard.�
�I know, but she hasn�t had it easy, before I mean. She didn�t have too happy a life you know. She told me one night like a few months ago. I guess she just needed someone to know that she didn�t feel strong.�

Emma sighed and finished her rice.

�Maybe you should go and take her some food. She�ll be hungry no doubt.�
�That�s a good idea. I�ll go and do that now. Hey, now you talk to the Doc. Now that will be fun huh?� grinned Kate as she left the table.

Rolling her eyes and shaking her head, Emma watched Kate arrange a small meal and exit the room. It was just her, Richards and Winters left in the room now. She hadn�t seen Olsen in hours and Monica was presumably in her room.

The complex was flooded with a grim silence as Kate proceeded down the main corridor towards Monica�s room. As she neared the slow corner, she watched Olsen slither past her quietly and disappear into the background. She could see out of the corner of her eye that he was staring at her, but she retained her unfazed outer shell until she reached Monica�s room.

�Monica, it�s me, Kate. I brought you some food,� she said softly as she tapped on the door, but she received no answer. �Monica, it�s Kate. Are you okay?� again she received no answer.

For a moment Kate stood outside the door, thinking what could be wrong with Monica, maybe she was sleeping and hadn�t heard her. So she knocked again, but louder this time.

�Monica. I thought you might be hungry so I�ve got some food for you here. Are you okay? We haven�t seen you all day, we were worried about you.�

Again, her words fell on deaf ears and so not wanting to tip toe around, she opened the door and entered Monica�s room.

�Monica?� said Kate.

Monica was curled up on her bed; a sheet pulled over her. It surrounded her body and was hoisted up to her neck where she gripped it tightly. She quivered just a little as Kate entered who closed the door beside her.

�Are you alright Monica?�

Kate set the plate and small cup down on the floor at the foot of Monica�s bed.

�Monica?�

*   *   *

Kate has been gone for quite a while; it was getting on for an hour later. Emma was curious as to what was going on and so left the dining hall in which only Richards was sitting. Winters was back in his room, presumably disposing of Don�s body and Olsen was nowhere to be found.

The walk down the corridor was eerily quiet. As she listened to her own footsteps bouncing off the walls around her she scanned the area, glancing in through open doors and behind her, but nothing stirred. Eventually, she reached Monica�s room and entered, as the door was already ajar.

Kate was kneeling beside the bed as Monica lay still, her face streaked with tears, her curled up form quivering.

�What happened?� gasped Emma as she stepped further into the small box room.

Kate turned her head and looked up at Emma�s silhouetted figure.

�Something bad.�
�But what?�

Emma stepped over so that she too was beside the bed. She knelt down on one knee and took Monica�s hand, stroking it gently with her thumb.

�Monica? Monica? What happened?�
�It�s no good. I�ve tried getting anything out of her, but she won�t say a thing. She�s terrified.�

Monica�s face was buried in the hard mattress that was her bed. Her eyes were wide and bloodshot, her forehead twitching as she wrestled with whatever the horror it was plaguing her mind. Then suddenly, she started to mime very slowly.

�What is it Monica? What�s are you trying to say?�

Monica continued to mime incoherently, it was almost twitching at best, but then she managed to squeeze �Olsen� out before her tears started to fall again.

�Olsen?� said Kate in confusion.
�What does she mean by that?� continued Emma.

Monica closed her eyes as the tears continued to fall and began to turn over on the bed. She revealed the other half of her face, which was previously hidden. A large bruise was developing; with a large cut that had been bleeding leaving a smeared streak of blood on the sheets. As she continued to roll over, marks on her right arm were revealed and then she was facing away from them both, looking dead on at the wall ahead of her.

�What the�� gasped Emma in disbelief.
�Look at that one on her arm,� said Kate as she took a closer look.
�Monica? Where did you get these?�
�What does that look like to you? A hand?� asked Kate.
�Monica, did Olsen do this to you?�

Monica began to weep deeper and deeper and shriveled up again under her covers.

�Where�s Hicks?� asked Kate.
�I�m not sure, but he and Richards were talking earlier about the vans they got today. I think Hicks might be driving one over to the far entrance of the complex.�
�Well go and see if you can find him.�
�He might be done now, I�m not sure. He left the dining hall a while ago. I�ll see if I can find him,� finished Emma as she stood and walked out of the room leaving Kate in disbelief beside Monica.

Hicks had parked the van at the far entrance to the complex as Emma had thought. He had pulled the rear doors all the way open so that they were positioned on the side of the van and had backed it all the way up to the rear entrance. This formed a fairly tight seal that was certainly not large enough to get a whole person through. In an emergency, this was to provide a safer escape.

He had clambered out of the van and had sealed the door securely behind him. The walk back to the complex was quiet, but it was soon over as he would walk it at least twice a day and had been doing so for the past few months that they had all been living down there. As he neared the living quarters of the complex, he could see Emma running around before she spotted him.

�Hicks!� she cried out before running over to him.
�What is it? What�s wrong?� said Hicks as she gripped onto his shoulders.
�It�s Monica.�
�What about Monica? What�s happened to her? Is she alright?�
�She�s a mess, a real mess. She�s been beaten and I don�t know what else, but I�m pretty sure she was raped!�

Hicks� eyes widened in shock. Everything was falling apart around him. For a moment he thought he should have stayed in and never ventured outside, it had worked for the past few months. The first day he ventures into the outside world in God knows how long and suddenly he starts loosing people like crazy.

�She was what? Who did this?�
�She was mumbling something, miming it. The only thing she told us was �Olsen� and then we saw the bruises.�
�Who�s with her now?� asked Hicks as he began piecing a plan of action together.
�Kate.�
�Okay. I�m going to get Richards and Winters and we�re going to go and find Olsen. You two stay with Monica until we find him and get him secured.�

Emma nodded as she took a deep breath.

�You�d better keep a shotgun with you just in case he comes back. God knows where he is in this God forsaken shit hole. Come on.�

Hicks led Emma back to the control room and proceeded to open a small steel cabinet in which the weapons were kept. He removed a shotgun and took out some extra shells.

�Here, put these in your pocket, but I doubt you�ll need to reload.�

He cocked the weapon and handed it over to Emma.

�Now hurry back and stay there until I come and say it�s okay to come out. I think once we have Olsen, we�d better leave Monica alone for a while. God knows what she�s been through. One can only imagine what horror must be trapped inside her head.�

As Emma left the room and disappeared down the corridor, Hicks turned back to the weapons cabinet. One of the shotguns was missing, but he didn�t say anything so as not to worry Emma, Kate or Monica. So he quickly snatched the last two and dashed back to the dining hall where he had left Richards a short while earlier.

Richards was just leaving when Hicks arrived, wide-eyed and sweat trickling down his brow.

�Richards!� he shouted as he threw one of the shotguns at him. �Olsen�s hurt Monica bad and he took one of the guns from the cabinet.�
�But��
�No time to ask questions Richards, get Winters and meet me back at the control room. We�ll need all the muscle we have to bring him down if he�s going to put up a fight, and knowing him, he almost certainly will.�

Hicks then dashed back to the control room as Richards paced over to the medical bay.

The clock turned over to 6 p.m when Richards arrived back with Winters in tow. Hicks had been waiting anxiously; nobody knew where Olsen was and what on earth he might be doing.

�Let�s just hope he�s doing a crossword eh?� said Hicks as he led the hunting party out of the control room and down the corridor.

Like a trained raid squad, they searched each room systematically and proceeded along the complex until they finally came to the storeroom. Their faces were trickling with sweat and their pulses were racing with adrenaline. Their chests heaved as the potential danger of the situation scurried around their minds, but like all protective males, they didn�t care if they got hurt. It was simply a matter of seeking out the enemy and destroying them. But they were to take him alive if they could. That was the plan.

�Okay. He�s gotta be in here, we�ve searched everywhere else. So on the count of three, Richards, you storm the door, I�ll follow and Winters, you follow me. If there�s a struggle, we might need you as backup,� whispered Hicks as his heart pounded, the noise almost ringing out in his head.

The trio stood by the door, readying themselves quickly as Hicks prepared himself.

�Okay. One��

They hunched over, facing one shoulder ahead of themselves to act as a battering ram of sorts.

�Two��

They took what could possibly be their final breath if it all went wrong.

�Three!�

Richards stormed the door. It burst open with a loud crash as he fell to the floor, aiming his shotgun directly in front of him. Hicks then dived into the fray, but took the right flank and immediately saw Olsen crouched and ready to fire.

�Freeze Olsen!� bellowed Hicks as Richards slid around on the floor, scrambling to his feet after he regained his positioning.
�Don�t you fucking move!� continued Richards.

Olsen�s face was hard pressed, his eyes black as coal. He looked like he was going to war, as if he was a soldier heading for the Normandy beaches, preparing himself for the immediate onslaught.

�Winters, get in here,� said Hicks.

Winters followed his orders and stepped into the room, keeping behind Hicks all the time as he looked over his shoulder.

�Remember what you have to do Winters?� whispered Hicks.
�Yeah,� he replied.

Suddenly, Olsen lurched forward and dived to his right to escape any first shots.

�I said freeze!� roared Hicks as he blasted a warning shot near to Olsen�s body.

But Olsen returned fire and as the attacking trio juggled themselves around, his shot blasted into Winters, tearing through his chest as if it were paper. With a gargled scream, Winters staggered back and crashed into a pile of stacked boxes, his blood splattered across them. He shuddered as the realization of what had happened hit him. And then he slid to the floor, landing as a tangled, bloody heap.

�One more step and you two get the same!� grunted Olsen as he quickly re-aimed his weapon.
�Not a fucking�� Hicks pulled the trigger and blasted Olsen in the left arm.

His wail was almost animal like and sent him spiraling to the floor with the close quarters impact, his shotgun flying into the air before falling to the ground too far away to reach.

�Chance,� Hicks swallowed.

Immediately, Richards rushed over to Olsen and hit him across the face with the butt of his weapon, knocking him unconscious in an instant.

�What about Winters? Is he okay?� asked Richards who aimed his weapon at Olsen who now lay still, knocked out on the floor.

Hicks turned his head and looked down to the floor where Winters lay in a bloody pool that seeped out onto the floor. He wasn�t moving.

�He�s dead.�

*   *   *

The room was spinning, the surrounding noise dull like a gentle hum, the strip lights above almost blindingly bright. Olsen began to wake, his head hung, drool dripping from his gaping jaws so that it formed a wet stain on his shirt which barely covered his mid-drift mass.

�That�s right you son of a bitch, wakey, wakey,� came a cold voice from behind.

Olsen slowly raised his head and slithered his eyes open just enough so that he could make out blurred figures all around him, one of them passing by every few seconds, presumably circling him like a predator.

�Come on Olsen, wake the fuck up!� roared the same voice.

A sudden force kicked Olsen�s head forward so that his chin butted his chest. He raised his head once again and choked on a deep-throated cough.

�What the fuck is going on here?� he slurred.
�What the fuck is going? What the fuck is going on?� came the same voice again.
�Yeah asshole, what the fuck, man?�

Olsen�s head rolled around for a while as he tried to snap out of it, but he felt drowsy, almost like he was drugged up the eyeballs.

�Hey, wake up fucko!� boomed a different voice, this time to Olsen�s left-hand side.

This figure then stepped out from the dimly lit corner of the room and stepped in front of Olsen. As his focus began to return, he could make out that this person was Richards. He could smell his breath splashing on his face, the gritty voice of a tired policeman grinding his ears like they were rusted metal and the tough grip of a hand landing on his shoulder to shake him into further consciousness.

�Get the hell off my case already, Richards.�

The room fell silent for a moment as Richards stepped back from Olsen. In his stilly fuzzy vision, Olsen could see Richards rolling up the sleeves of his shirt and cracking his knuckles. If he wasn�t here right now, he could be in a TV cop show grinding down perps looking for shipments of class �A� drugs. Then a sudden wave washed over Olsen as his head snapped backwards with such a force that he almost toppled over backwards on the chair he sat on. Olsen tired to retaliate, but he was restrained, his arms tied behind his back to the chair, his ankles also stuck fast against the chair legs. And then again, another hit to the face followed by another and then another snapped Olsen back to reality.

�Get the fuck off my case you son of a�� Olsen was cut off.
�Shut up already!� boomed Hicks as he threw a length of rope over Olsen�s head and pulled it back to his neck.

Hicks pulled on the rope so that it burned into the flesh, making Olsen choke and scream to be let off.

�Get off you bastard, get�� gargled Olsen.

Hicks tightened his grip for a second, pulling the rope as far back as it would go and then pulled it away. Olsen dropped his head down again, coughing and choking as he tried to swallow his Adam�s apple back into position.

�Fuck sake man! What the fuck did I do? I ain�t done nothing man!� grunted Olsen.

Kate and Emma were also in the room and Olsen could just about make them out in his peripheral vision. They were sitting on a table, leaning forwards slightly, obviously relishing every moment of Olsen�s interrogation.

�You mean you�re so Goddamn stupid that you�ve forgotten who Monica is?� growled Hicks.
�Monica? What the fuck are you talking about that bitch for?�
�You really are one stupid bastard aren�t you?�

Hicks then stepped around in front of Olsen and leant forward so that his face was right up close and personal, but Olsen rolled his eyes around the room, escaping Hicks� crazed stare.

�Look at me Goddamn it!� Hicks grabbed hold of Olsen�s sagging cheeks and aimed his head dead center. �Monica, the woman in the room down the hall. That Monica!�
�What the fuck are you talking about her for man? Now let me the fuck out of this chair or so help me God��
�So help you nothing! You ain�t getting out of this chair anytime soon, so you�d better get used to it!� interrupted Richards as he grabbed hold of Olsen�s hair to pull his head back and then push it forwards again.
�Quit it already you crazy bastards, leave me the fuck alone! I ain�t done shit!�

Hicks stepped back and gazed up and down Olsen for a moment. Then suddenly he lurched forwards and struck the prisoner square on the jaw. Olsen flinched and gritted his teeth at the sudden throb of pain before licking the corner of his mouth with his tongue. He tasted a steady flow of blood trickling from his lip.

�You certainly ain�t done a damn thing since you got here, that�s for damn sure. You ain�t helped out one bit, the only damn thing you managed to do was hot wire a van, on a trip outside on which two men died in case you�ve forgotten?�
�Yeah, so what?�
�So what? The only thing you�ve done since you�ve been down here, by the looks of things, is beat and rape Monica!�
�What? You talking crazy you stupid bastard. I ain�t gone near that skanky bitch. That was Don, man. He was all over her, and damn was he all over her!� Olsen grinned and chuckled to himself, spitting a mouthful of bloody saliva onto the dusty floor in the process.
�And what makes you think that any of us are going to believe you, Olsen? How on earth could you be telling the truth?� continued Hicks.
�Because I am, man. Who the fuck you gonna trust? Some fucked up whore or a man?�

Olsen turned his head, craning his neck around as far as it would go and grinned maniacally at Kate and Emma who slowly pulled themselves back, they could almost smell the blood on his otherwise stinking breath.

�Why do you think you two bitches have stayed untouched, huh?� slurred Olsen. �If I was gonna fuck anybody in here, it woulda been one of you two bitches.�

In disgust, Hicks pulled Olsen�s head back to face him.

�You left them alone as you knew they weren�t easy targets. You knew Monica was quiet and hardly opened her mouth. You knew she had problems and kept away from the group most of the time. She was easy, easy for you to use and get away with it. That�s why you did it and that�s why we know you did it.�
�And really Olsen, would or could you ever tell the truth? You been lying to us for months haven�t you? You and Don.�

The room fell silent again. There wasn�t much point in denying anything now. Olsen had had his fun and gotten away with it for months already.

�Okay Chief, you got me. I did it; I fucked that little bitch like she was the bitch on earth. I forced her down and I did it, I stuck it to that bitch!� Olsen grinned, showing off his gray, bloody stained teeth. �And she was a good piece of ass too, oh man, you shoulda got in there. Just like doing a virgin��

Hicks grimaced at the description, but more so at the sheer disgust he contracted from being in such close quarters to such a specimen of man�s worst traits.

�Oh man, she was one good fuck. Nothing better to start the day off with, shit, and end it!� Olsen continued laughing, rolling his head around to look at everybody in the room.
�People like you make me sick! You son of a bitch!� growled Kate as she spat at Olsen.
�Come on baby, yeah, come on over. Come on and take it like the little whore you really are. Come on bitch! Come on!� Olsen relished every minute.

Hicks then planted another right hook on Olsen, this time right in the middle of his sweating, unshaven face. A loud snap rang out and quickly a thick stream of blood began to pour from his nose.

�You fuck! You fucking bastard! You broke, you broke my fucking nose!� Olsen grimaced at the pain and spat the blood out as he shouted, rocking back and forth in the chair to try and move, get out, get up and get even.

The situation began to calm a little as Olsen lowered his head momentarily to blow a flood of crimson fluid from his crooked nose.

�You�re gonna pay for that you fucking spineless prick.�

The blood slathered down his filthy shirt, adding more and more to his disgusting image. He glanced around the room again.

�You�re all spineless bastards. You won�t do shit to me! You don�t have what it takes. So just let me go already! Let me go!� Olsen continued to rock his chair back and forth and side to side.
�You�re not getting outta this chair Olsen,� said Hicks as he stepped towards his prisoner.
�Come on you prick, come on, untie me already! You can�t do shit, so let�s stop wasting time.�
�Not a chance Olsen, not a chance.�
�You know, you really as a piece of shit, you know that don�t you?� Olsen leaned forward as far as he could and glared right into Hicks� eyes.

And then as he looked down, Olsen spat another mouthful of blood to the floor, this time the load splashing across Hicks� boot.

�Fucking prick,� chuckled Olsen. �Goddamn faggot.�

Hicks took a slow breath.

�So what are you gonna do with me huh? I�m gonna get back at all of you, you know that don�t you?�
�Not got a chance of that Olsen,� said Richards as he stepped forward.
�Oh yeah? Oh yeah? We�ll see, we�ll see. I�m gonna get you Richards, I�m gonna snuff you out like a fucking light, and you Hicks, I�m gonna rip out your fucking tongue and feed it to those brainless bastards walking around out there and when I feed you to them I�m gonna laugh. I�m gonna laugh as you try to scream, but instead cough up blood as you ain�t got a tongue.�

Olsen turned to Kate and Emma.

�And you two. I�ll keep you two��

Hicks stepped in closer, placing his hands behind his back.

�I�m gonna keep you two all to myself and I�m gonna enjoy you�re sweet asses everyday and every night��

Hicks lowered his head to look right at Olsen, his hands remaining behind his back.

�I�m gonna get all over you two bitches. You�re gonna feel it all over, you�ll be in so much pain you�ll wanna scream, but you ain�t gonna make a peep, not when I�m there�not when I�m there��

Suddenly, a bullet ripped through Olsen�s head as if it was a balloon. His brains burst forth and with the shock of the bullet rushing through his skull, his body jerked and he fell backwards, still tied to the chair. The noise was deafening, but faded as it tired out from bouncing about the room from wall to wall. Then it became silent.

Hicks had shot Olsen point blank in the head and as he slowly stepped back to lean against the wall behind him he watched as Olsen�s blood trickled down the wall opposite and began to flood the floor, the horrified faces of Emma, Kate and Richards looking on in disbelief.

Then they all looked away from the carnage and stared at Hicks. For a few moments they all stood, glued to their positions, the shock was too much, but deep down they all felt relief, they were all glad.

*   *   *

A willowy figure glided down the main corridor much like a ghost, silently passing by the room in which Olsen had been getting interrogated. Moments beforehand, the shot had rung out. At this moment, Olsen�s body was lying twitching on the floor, his blood oozing across the floor like a flood.

The figure came to Richard�s quarters. The door was opened and seconds later the figure emerged and continued to walk down the hallway, a pistol gripped tightly in the right hand. Without making a single sound, the ghostly person unlocked the door leading to the roof, and slowly, began to climb the steps.

The sun was beginning to get ready to set. It had meandered across the sky and was beginning to turn a bright orange again. It had just turned 8 p.m and a gentle chill was beginning to gather in the air. The streets were beginning to become dull, growing ever darker by the second as the dead continued to come out to play. They hammered their rotting bodies against windows and doors all over the precinct, the excitement of earlier that day having drawn a significant amount of attention. There was definitely something inside for the plague to investigate and infect.

The rooftop was completely highlighted by the setting sun, a blinding orange glow beaming down. Then the figure emerged from the darkness of the stairwell and in the dying sunlight revealed their face - it was Monica. She continued to grip the pistol in her hand tightly, her face remaining blank, yet doused in pain and suffering, her mind going a hundred miles an hour, trying to quickly discover a reason as to why everything which had happened, had done so. But her thoughts came to nothing, just repeated flashes of her life, her horrid life inflicted with such anguish, such trauma that she couldn�t go on.

Almost timidly, she stepped to the edge of the rooftop so that she could look down to the growing hoards of flesh eaters on the street below. Their mindless battering of the building was almost hypnotic, so slow, yet smooth and enduring. For a moment she stopped. Looking around her, trying to find something of any beauty that might save her from doing it, something that would make her stop, even just for a little while. But as she looked around the derelict city of Safe Water, she could only see destruction, death and disease. And with that she took one last deep breath, turned to face away from those below her and raised the gun to her open mouth. As she inserted the barrel, she quivered with terror, a sudden final gush of her pain flocking to the backs of her eyes, but she gripped the gun stronger, holding it steady with both hands.

She squeezed her eyes shut, letting two tears drift quickly down her cheeks, released her last breath and pulled the trigger. The shot boomed throughout the city and bounced down the stairwell, slithering towards the main corridor.

�Shit! What the hell was that?� gasped Richards as he looked up from Olsen�s body towards Hicks.
�Gunshot.�

Emma and Kate remained seated for a moment, trying to figure out what was going on and then they realised.

�Monica!� bellowed Kate.

Hicks and Richards glanced at each other, they didn�t need to confirm it, they both knew it was her. And without saying a word, they bolted from the small box room and dashed towards the stairwell, leaping up the steps like starved predators chasing a fleeting meal before bursting onto the rooftop.

The air was clear, the sun continuing to set, disappearing behind forming black clouds.

�Where is she?� panted Richards.

Hicks stepped into the center of the rooftop and glanced all around him, searching for a body sprawled in a bloody pool on the floor, but he saw nothing. Then the ravenous sound began to seep into his head.

�What is it Hicks?�

Stepping slowly over to the edge of the rooftop, Hicks glanced down to the street and amidst a pulsing hoard he could make out the sprawled figure. Monica�s body being torn apart by the starved creatures. Almost gagging, Hicks stepped back and turned his head, his eyes full of fear. As he coughed and fought to regain his composure, he looked to the floor. The pistol Monica had taken was lying still, one empty shell not too far away, it was still smoking.

�She�s dead,� muttered Hicks as he picked up the pistol and empty shell.
�What? Where is she?�
�Down there.�

Richards� face dropped further as he watched Hicks gently handle the weapon, rolling the empty casing in his other hand as his head dropped down.

�Come on, we�d better go and tell the others,� mumbled Hicks as he began to descend the steps, sinking into the darkness and artificial light.

As the shock of the confirmation sunk in, Hicks planned what the next move should be, plotting every detail as quickly as possible. If he was going to act to escape, it was going to be tonight, and everyone was coming with him.

�We are getting out of this place tonight,� stated Hicks simply as he stood tall at his table in the small dining hall, the remaining three survivors gathered around him. �This place is a ticking time bomb, we�re surrounded and today we�ve lost God knows how many people. It�s no longer safe here, if we stay, we�re trapped forever and we�ll never survive.�

The others looked at Hicks, still reeling from the shock of watching him execute Olsen without a second�s thought and the sudden suicide of Monica. Everything was happening so fast, it was too much to take in, but they had no choice.

�And how are we going to do this Hicks? How the hell are we gonna escape here?� asked Richards.
�We take the van, the one at the far exit. We take that and get the hell outta Safe Water once and for all.�
�But what about supplies Hicks? What are we gonna survive on? And what about fuel? We may have a full tank in it at the moment, but how far is that gonna get us huh? What will we do and where will we go if we run out?�
�We�ll stock the van with as many supplies we can carry, take all the weapons and ammo we have and if we run out of gas, well, we�ll cross that bridge when we get to it. It�s either that or staying here and waiting to die. If we get outta here tonight, we stand a chance of surviving.�
�But what about outside the city? What�s it like out there? Those bastards could be everywhere!� boomed Emma.

Hicks paused for a moment and looked around the room.

�I know, I�ve already thought of that, but we�re surrounded here. Those things are swarming around the building. How long will it be before they break in through the door or how long till the power fails again? It did earlier today and that�s how that bastard Don got bit. And I�m sorry if I�m mistaken, but those are some pretty menacing storm clouds forming. You know what storms are like here. The power will be out in no time, those shutters will open and those sons a bitches will get in here.�

Emma sat back for a moment and assessed the situation. She was beginning to think maybe it was a good idea to make a run for it.

�Well I agree with Hicks,� said Kate suddenly. �Those things will get in here, they already have once today, and they�re all around us. We�ve gotta try and get out of here and survive.�

Hicks smiled, it was 50% in favour of going.

�Well, if we�re gonna go, we need to make a decision quick. Richards, Emma? What do you say?�

The remaining voters glanced at each other and looked up at Hicks� strong eyes and determined glare.

�Fuck it, let�s get the hell outta here,� sighed Richards.
�Yeah. Fuck it. We�re gonna die anyway, so why not try at least huh?�
�Exactly,� said Hicks. �Now this is how it�s gonna work. Richards, you help me gather the supplies on that trolley thing in the storage room under those boxes of food, that�ll help us move as much stuff as possible down to the far exit. Emma, Kate, you two get the guns and ammo and then help us with supplies. I wanna be outta here by midnight at the latest.�

Hicks was a commanding presence and his orders pierced his audience immediately as they all stood and began to go about their orders. There was no way any of them were going to fold in and just let the monsters outside kill them. Putting up a fight for survival was the only option.

*   *   *

As hastily as possible, the two double teams rushed back and forth throughout the complex, ducking in and out of rooms, grabbing anything and everything that would be useful. Supplies � food and water, weapons and ammunition and their last personal effects they had on them before they were all locked inside this prison when things got to hot up top.

The clock was ticking faster than it had all day; the minutes were stripping away like seconds, the hour hurriedly approaching 10pm. The sky was pulsating with deep black clouds, the unearthly rumble of the Gods heading their way, getting louder and louder as their hearts beat faster and faster.

�How�s it coming?� yelled Hicks as he came jogging down the long corridor, which led to the rear access to the complex.
�We�re almost through here, just got this final load left,� replied Richards as he dragged an overloaded trolley of food, water and ammunition with him.
�Are we going to be able to cart all this shit?�
�Don�t worry Kate, we�re getting outta here in that big van, those things are designed to take the weight. But this will be the last load, we can�t take anymore and then we�re bugging out.� Hicks spoke straightforwardly, securing a commanding presence � just what was required at the time. �Now Richards, you and Emma get this thing down to the van and load it up. I�m going to make a last sweep with Kate.�

Richards nodded and motioned for Emma to help him with the load as she emerged from a nearby room, clutching a dog-eared photo in her quivering hands.

�Whatchu got there?�
�Just a memory,� replied Emma soberly. �Just a memory.�

The double teams split and went opposite ways, two heading away from the heart of the complex, the other two going straight into it.

�What time is it now?�
�Ten past the hour,� snapped Hicks. �We�ve gotta get the hell outta here. So let�s make this sweep as quick as possible huh?�

The pair wandered the halls, a quickened snap in their pace, glancing into empty rooms � the artificial lighting buzzing inside, illuminating the corridor. The cold concrete underfoot bounced the echoes of their footsteps all around them � everything seemed all to quiet.

�I don�t like this Hicks, can�t we just get the fuck out of here?�
�Just one more minute, you never know what you might leave behind.�

The first death rumble of thunder came rolling in, the walls shook and strained and then the lights overhead fizzed, flickered, blinked and died. The background whir of the air conditioning system choked, coughed and died. Then the gears and cogs chugged, screamed and opened the steel shutters on the windows lining the main corridor.

�Shit, run Kate, run.�

Kate glanced all around � the darkness had consumed everything, her eyes welled up with fear.

�Kate, get the fuck outta here! Get to the van! Quick!� Hicks pushed her in the direction he wanted her to flee.
�But what about you?�
�I�ll be right behind you, I�m just going to go and get my gun and I�ll be right with you all.�

Kate looked blankly into Hicks� blackened face � his deadpan seriousness spread all over his face � she knew it, even if she couldn�t see him.

�Just go now Kate, run.�

She complied, turning sharp and running flat out from the first step. Her gasping breaths, her shoes pounding on the concrete underfoot � all faded away as she disappeared into the gloom. And without a second�s thought, as the shuffling feet of the dead outside could be seen approaching the weakened letterbox windows, Hicks disappeared in a flash, heading into his sleeping quarters.

His room was like all the others. Small, square and dank. It was always plunged into darkness no matter what � the darkness of his room, his short and stiff bed the only escape he could find in this world � but as he entered, the darkness felt different. It wasn�t welcoming; it reeked with fear and death. But despite the chills on the back of his neck, he stepped over to his bed, knowing exactly where it was amidst the dark, threw the thin pillow aside and grabbed hold of his gun. A standard 9mm, nothing fancy or cool like in the movies, just a normal, plain as day weapon that got the job done. He pulled the hammer back, grabbed the spare clip off the bed sheet and left his room behind. He had no personal possessions to take with him, he didn�t have any good photos left, and he didn�t have any shreds of his past life he wanted to take with him. He left it all behind and exited the box room.

As he emerged into the void of the main corridor, he heard it, the first window break and the first wheezing howl he�d heard in weeks that made him truly fear what was coming. Quietly, he slipped past the broken window, slithering by on the opposite wall. Then, another window broke ahead of him and another howl entered the otherwise silent corridor. Then another window, and then another, they were coming inside.

He could barely make out what was happening, only a little light crept in through the windows, but he could make out the snake-like movements of awkward bodies falling through the letterbox openings. The dull thud of their sagging flesh and cracked bones hitting the floor ringing out, their horrid smell flowing all around Hicks. He could hear them shuffling, sneaking nearer and nearer to him.

Hicks quickened his pace, stepping bit by bit, then slowly creeping faster and eventually skipping past one of the dead that reached out to grab him, but only scratching at the face of its potential meal.

The scratch-stung Hicks� face, the jagged nails of the walking dead � long, cracked and sharp as knives. But he forgot about the growing numbers gathering behind him and just ran.

As he did so, the windows to his right began to crack, shatter and break through, the glass shards spilling onto the floor around his feet. Behind him, more bodies flopped through the openings and scrambled to their feet. There must have been an army of them waiting outside, waiting for the right time to strike. They had figured out the key weakness of the complex, stayed outside until they got their chance, then they gathered en mass.

He ran as fast as he could, but the windows lined the entire length of the corridor, which suddenly grew longer and longer as he looked back again and again. Now the windows ahead of him were breaking open and the dead were pouring in not only behind him, but also in front of him. He readied his weapon, aiming it awkwardly in the darkness, the sounds of his beating heart, his boots bruising the concrete below him, the dull thud of the dead falling inside and their wheezing howls gathered around him. He could hear nothing but the symphony of horror all around him; the silent echo of the corridor had long since vanished.

He could see in the corner of his eye, the advancing shadows within the black that shrouded them all, so he pointed his simple 9mm wherever he heard the wheezing and fired hopelessly, wishing he�d hit something, praying he could make it those final meters to reach the exit. He could make out the thin strips of moonlight flowing in through the open rear exit of the complex, the van was backed right up, the back door to it wide open. Inside Kate and Emma stared out into the darkness, waiting to hear Hicks� running thuds appear through the howling, and suddenly, they did. His wide-eyed face appeared in the shaft of moonlight, a smoking 9mm in his right, quivering hand.

�Shit and I glad to see you guys!� he gasped as he stopped momentarily.

Emma and Kate stared back at him, their blank faces soon lifting upwards.

�Well come on, get your ass in and lets get the fuck outta here!� boomed Kate as the shuffling corpses could be heard getting nearer and nearer from within the main corridor.

Hicks leapt forward and hit the cold steel base of the van. Richards was in the driving seat waiting for the signal to go. The dead was clawing at the dented and rusting outer shell of the vehicle.

�Go! Go! Go!� screaming Hicks.
�Hold on,� sighed Richards � they had made the escape.

He crammed his foot into the accelerator and the wheels spun for a moment as the whole van shook before it took off, heading into the night, leaving the wide open complex for the dead and the dead alone.

�Goodbye Safe Water! Kiss my ass and fuck you too!� wailed an elated Hicks as he thrust his middle finger in the air before Kate pulled the back door to the van shut.

Richards drove like the wind while Emma, Hicks and Kate sat in the back, holding on to whatever was near, huddled amidst their supplies. Their lives had been living inside those concrete walls for so many months and now they were out in the world. It may not have been a free world anymore, in fact it was now a war zone, but at least they could now get the hell out of Safe Water City.

�In the day of my trouble I sought the Lord: my sore ran in the night and ceased not: my soul refused to be comforted. I remembered God, and was troubled: I complained, and my spirit was overwhelmed. Thou holdest mine eyes waking: I am so troubled that I cannot speak. I have considered the days of old, the years of ancient times. I call to remembrance my song in the night: I commune with mine own heart: and my spirit made diligent search. Will the Lord cast off forever? And will he be favourable no more? Hath God forgotten to be gracious? Hath he in anger shut up his tender mercies?�

Psalm 77: 1 - 9

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