DUSK
It
was bright out and the sky was clear, save for a few ominous clouds. An occasional breeze cooled the hot summer
day. Every once in a while, Jack could
hear birds chirping. Before the chaos it
would have been a very pleasant day, but now, it was just great weather for a
routine scouting mission.
Since
he turned eighteen, Jack Smith had been on active duty, scouting for food and
guarding the base from attack. Even
though, they had managed to grow some crops inside, they still needed to forage. There were three-hundred people living in the
base. They had to risk a team once a
week just to meet the high demand for food and fuel. It was getting tougher and more demanding
because they had run out of near by food sources and had to move out further
into the ruins of the city. It had only
been about a year and a half, but it seemed like an eternity.
“Are
we there yet?” said a scrawny freckle faced boy named Greg.
“Shut
up,” said Frank, who was driving the jeep.
Normally, Greg’s antics were appreciated; sometimes cheap laughter was
the only way to keep sane. At times like
this however, when one mistake could lead to a horrible death, the average
sense of humor just died. “Keep your
eyes peeled; we don’t want to run into any trouble.”
There
was one other team member in the jeep with Jack: Sam Paterson. Of the four in the jeep, he was the
oldest. Sam had been a rookie on the
police force back in 1979, when this whole mess had started. He was the team leader and navigator. Through the whole trip, Sam just silently
looked at the map and the surrounding city.
There was a certain quality behind his eyes that made him seem much
older than his forty-two years. Not only
had he seen some things that would make even the most seasoned soldier turn
white, but also the world before it’s destruction. He had been around before the human race
tumbled onto the brink of extinction.
Undoubtedly, he had lost friends and loved ones.
Aside
from their jeep, there were two others which served as an armed escort. The occupants of those jeeps had all done the
dangerous duty of grabbing food before, so they knew the importance of their
job. The other vehicle involved was a
Mack truck, which was used to store the food and other supplies. In the back were two armed solders and a
field medic.
The
convoy had been traveling for fifteen minutes and they were only half way
through the trip. All he could do was
sit and wait.
“Look
over there!” he heard Greg shout and saw him pointing out of the passenger side
window. There was a badly decomposed
corpse walking toward the jeep. It had
been the first one they had seen since their departure. The lack of resistance didn’t sit well with
Jack or anyone else for that matter. The
lack of hungry flesh eaters on the street meant on thing: they were all
inside. “Do we shoot it sir?”
“Hold
your fire. That ghoul’s not going to
catch us and the noise would just attract more,” Sam said, speaking for the
first time.
As
they moved past the corpse, Jack looked into a parking lot where he spotted
three more of the flesh eaters. Another
walked out of what used to be a liquor store.
“Hey,
“Yeah,
where the hell have they been? I missed
those flesh eating fuckers,” Frank replied.
“We spotted five of them already!”
“I say we go hunting!” said another voice
from one of the escort jeeps.
Sam
snatched the radio from Frank and said, “Keep your eyes on the prize. We got a difficult mission ahead of us and we
don’t need a crowd.”
It
was true that zombies did enter a dormant state similar to sleep, but they are
awakened easily. Once stirred others
around them awakened. Once they were
awake, it was impossible to hide from them if they spotted you. When he was still a child and being schooled
inside of the base, Jack was taught of the dangers of these zombies. They seemed to know where there was food,
weather or not the food gave any hint it was there. They also travel in groups so if the convoy
was to “go hunting” they would piss off the undead populace and have thousands
of those things following them. That was
the last thing they needed.
They
moved past the parking lot and towards their goal. Over the next ten minutes, Jack saw some of
the dead walking, but not enough to cause a problem.
As
they got closer to the target, Jack was greeted by a familiar fear which he
experienced every time he went on one of these missions. When Jack was only three, his father had been
torn apart by the monsters. It was on
one of these missions that it had happened.
He had been hotwiring Mack trucks so they could be used for fuel and
transportation when he was pulled out of a truck by a mob of the flesh eating
bastards. Twelve years later, when his
mother died of cancer and turned into one of those things, Jack had to put her
down himself.
Jack
supposed it was normal though. All of
the survivors shared a united hatred for the ghouls. They had all lost friends and loved ones to the
greedy claws of the walking dead.
“Okay people, five minutes ‘til drop, let’s
have a supply check,” said a voice over the radio.
“Okay,
okay, you heard the man, check all weapons and ammunition. Switch off your safeties. In about five minutes, we get the honor of
setting foot on Hell! I tell you, it
just doesn’t get any better than this!
Hoo-rah!!” said Sam. “You got the
fire ready?”
“Roger!”
Fire seemed to be the only thing the zombies were afraid of. They had used it to seal off the base. They used it when they opened and closed the gates. They used it to deal with lager crowds of undead flesh eaters. Right now and most importantly, they used fire to keep zombies away from scavenging teams. Without it, they would be very vulnerable.
“There it is!” Greg shouted.
Jack could see it too. It was amazing that in another time, the supermarket had been a mundane place and the flesh eating ghouls waiting to taste human flesh once came there to get great prices on green beans and cereal.
“Smith, Watkins, you ready?” Sam said.
“Yes, sir!” Jack said.
“I was born for this!” Greg shouted in his squeaky voice.
“Get those torches out and stay together. Watch your asses; there are too many places for those things to hide.”
As the convoy pulled into the parking lot, several Zombies came out of their hiding places and began to walk towards the free meal. Soon there would be thousands of them.
“This is Big Buzzard, we’re in position,” said Mike.
“This is Vulture 1, we’re in position,” said the radio operator of the first escort.
“This is Vulture 2, we’re in position,” said the radio operator of the second.
Sam grabbed the radio receiver and said, “Light the fire.”
On his command, the two jeeps circled the supermarket, pouring one type of flammable liquid or another in a ring around the store. Scavenger, the jeep under Sam’s command, quickly pulled inside of the circle before ignition. They were ready to go shopping.
As Scavenger pulled up to the front door, Jack watched Big Buzzard pull into position backing right up to the entrance.
This trip was going to be difficult because they were raiding a new location. On the last trip, they had exhausted the food supply of the last supermarket. Because they were in new territory, they didn’t know the layout of the store nor did they know how many flesh eaters were inside. For this mission, they would not only have to gather food and other supplies, they would also have to secure the location.
“Okay, get ready. Light that torch,” Sam ordered. Jack lit his torch and Greg leaped out of the jeep. “Go, go, go, go!”
Jack followed his lanky partner and moved towards the storefront.
“Well, it’s not locked,” Greg said as he opened the door.
Greg readied his rifle, which was fitted with a flashlight, and stepped through the doorway. Jack followed.
There had been no power in this area in years, so the store was nearly pitch-black inside. The only light was from the flashlight, torch, and windows. There was heavy water damage to the floor and lower shelves. The whole interior seemed to fall under an eerie calm.
Greg searched the aisles with his light, looking for any signs of movement. His joking demeanor changed to professional. Jack could tell he was scared shitless.
They moved across the aisles, searching every one of them before they began to grab any supplies. The last thing they needed was to be mobbed when their hands were full.
CRASH
“Shit, what the hell was that, what the hell was that?!?” exclaimed Greg, whose face had turned white.
“Looks like they know we’re in here,” Jack said as he inspected the store for the source of the noise. They had no idea how many of the flesh eaters were inside. It could be one it could be one hundred.
Jack could hear something groaning. The two scavengers moved into an open area and stood in place until they could hear their pursuer again.
“Here it comes,” Jack said. He could hear the ghoul’s footsteps. “Come on you ugly fucker, come on.”
As he saw the ghoul move into the light, Jack unholstered his pistol and shot the zombie in the head. The corpse fell to the floor. This time, it would stay dead.
*
Sam sat in the jeep, monitoring the radio and watching the protective ring of fire. He had lead thousands of these missions. He had seen people die. He had even had to put some of his troops’ corpses down. It was one of the hardest things he had to do and it never got any easier.
“Hey, Sam we got a problem here,” said a voice over the radio, startling him out of his thoughts.
“What’s wrong?”
“There’s a crowd gathering outside of the fire.”
“Shit!” Sam exclaimed, “Seems we’ve awakened the dead. Keep an eye on them, if there gets to be too many, shoot a few. We don’t need any more complications.”
“Yes, sir!”
Sam looked past the fire at the growing crowd of flesh eaters. They just stood there, staring in at them with hunger in their faces. There must have been at least a hundred. There would be thousands by the time Jack and Greg were finished with their snatch and grab.
Suddenly, a loud noise rumbled from inside of the supermarket. It sounded like a gunshot.
Just another day in the neighborhood.
*
Almost instantly after he shot the ghoul in the head, Jack heard several groans and crashes all around the store.
“I think it’s time we get a move on it,” Jack said.
“Yeah,” Greg said, nodding vigorously, his face still a deathly shade of white.
As Jack continued looking for more of the undead, Greg got a shopping cart. They were going to need one of those so they could carry more food to the truck.
As they moved toward the canned food, Jack spotted three of the ghouls. The rotting corpses looked hungry.
“Okay, here’s the plan,” Jack said, “you just worry about getting more food, and I’ll worry about the ghouls.”
Greg just stood there with a frightened look on his face.
“Just stay with me and you’ll be fine. Now come on, we have to move quickly.” This time, Greg continued pushing the cart.
As the three ghouls moved closer, Jack held out his torch and aggressively pushed it towards them. In response, the three flesh eaters healed up their hands defensively and backed away. As Jack glanced behind, he could see one more heading towards them through the aisle. Jack unholstered his pistol and looked back in front at the three cowering ghouls. Then he looked back at the approaching zombie and shouted “What the hell are you waiting for? Shoot the fucker!”
Greg looked up, raised his rifle and fired, hitting the zombie between the eyes. The dead body crumpled. That was one less to worry about, but Jack could hear more of them coming.
Jack raised his pistol and shot the three ghouls who cowered away from the flame. He might as well take care of them before they caused any trouble. The first two went down quietly one taking one round to kill, but the third ghoul just didn’t seem to want to stay dead. It kept squirming, making the brain a hard target.
Out of frustration, Jack shoved the torch into the flesh eater’s face, igniting it instantly. As the ghoul ran through the store, clawing at its face, Jack knew that he had done something extremely stupid.
All he could do was pray that the building wouldn’t catch fire.
“Jesus, Jack! You trying to get us both killed?” Greg asked as he cleared another shelf of canned goods into the cart. Just as he finished his sentence, a hand shot through the shelf and took hold of his arm.
Greg screamed.
“Shit, don’t nock the shelf over!” Jack shouted as he raised his pistol and tried to get a shot at the ghoul. “Shit! I can’t get his head!”
“Just shoot the bastard anywhere!”
As soon as he was sure the rounds would contact, Jack fired three times, sending the ghoul tumbling to the ground.
“Let’s get the hell out of here. We got a full cart, that’s better than nothing,” Jack said as they heard the ghoul struggling to its feet and others approaching.
“We’re gonna die, we’re gonna die, sweet Jesus, we’re gonna die!” Greg kept saying.
“Come on, time to go,” Jack said. “COME ON!!!!” Jack yelled when he got no response.
This time, Greg nodded and wheeled the cart towards the door.
Jack could hear footsteps and other strange noises as a crowd of the undead moved towards them. They had to move faster, this place was crawling with worm food.
As they moved closer to their exit, Jack urged Greg to run faster. They were almost there, maybe five yards away, but it seemed like miles. They just kept running, faster and faster.
The undead horde groaned, gurgled, and made other hungry noises as they tried to catch their fleeing prey.
In an instant that was so gratifying, the two scavengers shoved the doors opened and charged out of the store to be greeted by the protective gun barrels of Vulture 2 and Scavenger teams.
“Go to the truck! Stash the food in the truck and return to the jeep,” Sam shouted.
Jack and Greg nodded and obeyed.
As he ran past the jeep, Jack could hear heavy gunfire. As he looked back, he saw maybe fifteen or twenty mutilated and rotting corpses getting mowed down by heavy rifles as they moved out of the store. Jack had been wise to get out of there.
“Come on!” one of the troops in the back of the Mack truck shouted as he waved urgently.
This mission had gotten to be more than a small team could handle and Jack wasn’t the only one who noticed. As he and Greg lifted the cart into the back of the truck, Jack looked out and saw why everyone was so edgy.
There were thousands of zombies standing outside of the fire, staring in at them with hunger on their faces. They ranged in sizes, age, mutilations, and decomposition. Their uniqueness seemed to end at an aesthetic level. They had been stripped of their individuality. They all wanted one thing: to feed on human flesh. It was as if they’d been stripped of their souls.
Jack shuddered.
“Come on,” Jack said to Greg, “let’s get back to the jeep. I think Sam’s gonna abort the mission.
“No,” Greg said softly.
“What?”
“No, no, he can’t do that, no!” Greg said louder this time. The kid was losing it.
“Come on,” Jack said, grabbing his companion by the arm and pulling him to the jeep.
“I think we bit off more than we can chew,” Sam said as they reached the jeep. “Let’s head back and send in another team tomorrow to seal this place off. I don’t know about you guys, but I could use a beer.”
Frank nodded.
“No, no, no, I’m fine, I can do this, I’m not losing it…” Greg rambled.
With a surprised look on his face, Sam said “I never said you were…”
“No, I can do this!” Greg shouted, grabbing his head.
Before anyone could react, the little runt ran back inside of the store.
“Damn, shit!” Sam exclaimed, “Come on Jack; let’s keep Watkins from getting himself killed.”
Jack nodded and followed Sam in, torch in hand.
As soon as they stepped in, Sam opened fire on a group of the flesh eaters, killing all of them.
“Over there,” Jack said, pointing at the shopping carts.
Greg was there, trying to pull another cart loose, oblivious to the five zombies moving in on his position.
Jack and Sam both opened fire on the undead, killing three and crippling one.
“Stay on them, I’ll cover out rear!” Sam said and opened fire. Jack did not want to know how many were behind.
To get a cleaner shot at the two zombies who were still animated, Jack ran closer. He was surely getting low on ammunition by now and he may need to resort to using the torch.
When he got close enough, Jack fired at the standing zombie, hitting it in the shoulder. Damn, damn! That was didn’t do Greg any good. The bullet only pushed the zombie back for a moment until it could regain balance, then it kept going. Jack fired again, hitting the ghoul right between the eyes.
As the corpse hit the ground, Jack looked for the crippled ghoul and spotted it right at Greg’s feet. He fired twice, hoping to hit the fucker in the head.
Click
Click
That was a sound Jack had long ago learned to hate. His pistol was empty and reloading was going to be a bitch with the torch in the other hand.
“Greg, behind you,” Jack shouted as he ran with the torch. “Goddamnit, look behind you!”
Greg didn’t seem to hear Jack’s calls; he just kept struggling with the shopping carts. And as he did, the zombie grabbed his leg and took a bite and knocked him to the ground. This wasn’t good at all. Not only did the flesh eater gain the advantage, but they were also going to have to amputate the leg. Greg flailed his arms and legs violently as he snapped out of the old panic attack and into a new one.
“Shit, shit, shit, shit…” Jack exclaimed. They were going to have to move quickly if they wanted to save Greg.
When he reached Greg and the attacking zombie, Jack shoved the torch in the ghoul’s face, careful this time not to ignite it. In response, the ghoul backed away from the flame.
“You get his right arm, I’ll get his left! Use the torch to help us get out,” Sam ordered from behind. “We gotta get a move on it!”
“Oh God, ho God, oh God, oh God…” Greg kept saying as they dragged him out of the store and to the truck.
On the way out, they met minimum resistance. Only one or two of the flesh eaters came close enough to worry Jack.
As they got closer to the truck, Jack could hear one of the soldiers swearing and calling for the doctor. The other soldier moved to the opening.
“Help me get him into the truck, I’ll get his legs,” Sam said as they raised Greg, still calling out to God, to the soldiers in the back.
After Greg was safely inside, the back of the truck closed and Jack and Sam returned to Scavenger.
There was more gunfire as the remaining zombies poured out of the doors trying to get a bite of the buffet.
“Vulture 1, Vulture 2, Big Buzzard, lets get the hell out of here,” Sam said over the open line.
Upon request, Vulture 1 moved to the ring of fire and extinguished part of the flame. As soon as they did, the gathering crowd began to move in through the gap. They would need to use the truck as a battering ram.
Vulture 1 backed away even before Big Buzzard made the request.
“Go ahead,” Sam said, encouraging Big Buzzard, who charged out of the flaming loop sending ghouls flying through the air.
The three jeeps followed, destroying flesh eaters that got too close.
The ride home had been long, quiet, and uneventful. They had seen a few ghouls out and about, but not a lot. There had been no resistance. The team only drove home with reckless abandon.
“This is Scavenger to base, we’re coming home, repeat we are coming home,” Sam said into the radio as soon as they were in range.
“This is base, what is you status?” asked a radio operator.
“We’ve got wounded.”
The radio went silent. In a few minutes, the team would be safely inside and out of danger. Except for Greg. He might be dead by now. Jack had never actually witnessed anyone survive a zombie bite. He knew a few people who had, but the death rate was about ninety-five percent. It was one hundred percent if the infected limb was not amputated quickly enough.
When he looked ahead, Jack could see several troops armed with torches and covered by snipers guarding the gate which was about to open.
When the convoy was about twenty yards away, the gates opened and the guards aggressively shoved their torches in the direction of the zombies, herding them away from the door. There was not enough ammunition to kill all of the flesh eaters and bullets were needed for food runs, so it was pointless to open fire on them. The only way to fend them off was fire.
As the convoy pulled through the gate, the guards filed to either side and fended off the walking dead with torches. When the convoy got through the gate, the guards closed the gap and backed inside so the gates could close.
There were maybe twenty-five civilians gathered around to greet the team, but nobody went to them. Jack, Sam, Frank, and the others gathered outside of the truck and awaited news of Greg’s condition. After about a minute of waiting, the door opened and the rear crew stepped out with grim looks on their faces.
Greg had died on the way home.