Beyond the Wall
Walls serve a dual function, to keep something in, or to keep others on the outside. Monstrous slabs of concrete separated those of the quarantine zone from the waste that was the city of Boston. I had been born two years after the first outbreak, orphaned early on, taken in by the military, it had not been easy. America had been overtaken by the plague in a matter of months, in a year, the world. Terror, uncertainty, and chaos ruled where society used to be. Quarantine zones were established to save as many as could be saved. Strict rules were the norm and harsh punishments were meted out to those who didn't follow them. Luckily, I was spared the worst of it but the military was not what it once was. Children like me were known as plague orphans, because our parents had been lost during the initial outbreak. My name is Alexandria Weiss or just Lexi for short. I am a survivor and child of the apocalypse; of the death and rebirth of the world.
My eyes snapped open to the sound of shouting. Sergeant McMillian using her booming voice in the only way she knew how. I groaned, pushed the scratchy, steel grey, blanket from my body and got up slowly. I slept in the bottom bunk and didn't particularly care for it because the mattress was lumpy and uncomfortable. The bunks were layered in tiers of three, rickety, made for practicality and not comfort. Sore muscles and aching butts were the only kind of sleep you would get on these bunks. Early morning inspection, the worst kind. But instead of an inspection something happened that was much worse. McMillian turned on her heel between the bunks of shuffling recruits and looked right at me.
She looked me over and spoke. "Weiss you and several other recruits are going on patrol outside the wall. Two others will join you but no more. Be in the parking lot at 0900 hours in full gear, asses and elbows recruits!" Shallow breathing, and lightheadedness, I felt as if I was going to have a panic attack. Pushing down the bile in my throat my eyes closed. Slow and steady breathing Lex you are trained for this, I thought shakily. My best friend Emma Harrington suddenly appeared beside me and put her hand on my shoulder. "Hey Lex it's gonna be okay. I'll be by your side the whole time." She gave me a reassuring smile. I shook my head emphatically and replied, "Oh no you aren't going, and it is way too dangerous out there." Right as the words left my mouth Emma's face changed I knew that look.
She put her hands on her hips and said, "Don't give me that girl. We have been friends since forever and if you go I go. That's the end of it." Her eyes never left mine even when I looked away they were like bores and could see my inner thoughts no matter how deep I buried them. Sighing a sigh of defeat, my hands went up on either side of me and briskly went into the bathroom to do my business bare feet slapping on the cold tile floor. In the bathroom the mirror beckoned to me. A crack ran horizontally from the upper left corner down to the bottom right. The person in the mirror looked back, what a sight; disheveled, a shock of auburn hair, old acne scars, and bags under hazel green eyes, just me. Face met trembling hands and a question went repeatedly around in my head, would I survive until the next day?
Almost in a haze my body went through the daily routine; toilet, shower, teeth, and finally dressing. Emma was bunked close to me and when I got back she tried to cheer me up. Looking disdainfully at her matching navy blue khakis, combat boots that were maybe one or two sizes too big, and a shirt with pockets that were too small to carry anything of value. she quipped, "A girl can't win any fashion contests or get nice looking boys looking like this now can she?" She strolled down the floor between the bunks imitating the models she had seen in old, dusty, fashion and glamour magazines. The imitation was absolutely awful. Emma walking in those ungainly boots, sauntering up and down, her dirty blonde ponytail bobbing up and down. She walked a runway only she could see. Other girls snickered and laughed but she paid them no attention lost in her own little fantasy. I couldn't help but grin. Emma always knew how to make me smile.
Before we left Emma rummaged through her dresser, pushing aside clothes to find what was really wanted. Triumphantly lifting out her small, silver, crucifix she put it around her neck. I had given that to her for her 8th birthday, it was her good luck charm and it never left her neck. Being more sentimental than I she had stenciled both our names in minute writing on the back. She told that if she died I would be the next owner and hopefully have more luck than she had had. Emma stared at it for a few moments lost in thought. I squeezed her shoulder it shook underneath my hand. Gently whispering to her I said, "Come on E lets go." Looking up at me she nodded. We left quickly.
The other girl from our block joined us her name, we later learned, was Jesse. We ate quickly and nothing, each lost in our own thoughts. The tables we sat at were old and in need of some maintenance. Cracks and graffiti were omnipresent, a reminder of how long they had been used. The paint on the walls was chipped and peeling, a dull green, a color used more in bathrooms than in cafeterias. Next stop was the armory the most important room in the whole building according to many. The place was a massive room that could hold over one hundred people if need be. There were rows and rows of lockers where spare equipment and firearms were stored but those were for emergencies only. Guns, ammo, and any other items were top priority and were always being sought after or scavenged. Survival depended on it.
Behind wire-rimmed fencing quartermasters distributed their meticulously cared for items. All three of us moved into line behind one another. My turn came quickly enough, the quartermaster, whose line we had gone into was not a friendly man to say the least but he was very good at what he did. Quartermaster Williams looked at me and I felt like I was shrinking under his cold gaze. Williams' muscled arms were covered in elaborate tattoos, his most noticeable tat inked his right shoulder, a skull with wings coming from behind, and an inscription in Latin haloing it. There were rumors Williams had been an army ranger before the outbreak but someone had yet to ask him. He was not one to provoke much conversation.
The quartermaster was bald, with a scrupulously trimmed goatee sitting below his cracked lips. His lips without mirth, he performed his duty mechanically and without complaint. One thing that always disconcerted me was how his black, unblinking eyes followed you as he handed the gear out. Those cold, black eyes followed me now as I retrieved my gear; riot helmet, gas mask, Kevlar knee pads and body armor. My service weapon came last. He deposited a fairly light, 38 caliber revolver complete with holster and ammunition into my waiting hands. The last item was a black nightstick, it needed a new paint job but it was serviceable, one of the loops on my belt held it comfortably. Now that I had my gear he waved me away with a quick flick of his wrist, as if I was a fly circling his bald dome.
Beginning to suit up I tried to think of something positive but couldn't. I soon gave up trying. I donned the light weight Kevlar vest, made sure it was tight, strapped on the knee pads, making sure these didn't cover my boots so as to not impede my mobility. I pulled the service cap from my head and placed the riot helmet atop my skull, the foam inside fitting snugly to my head shape. The two inch thick polycarbonate visor could be raised vertically or horizontally. My gas mask was clipped to my waist, the last thing I needed to do was load my weapon. Carefully putting down the weapon and shaking several bullets from one of the small boxes I was given I deftly loaded the gun and slide the revolver back into my holster, attaching it to the belt at my waist. The remaining ammunition was put into the Kevlar pouches that surrounded my waist to the right of the holstered revolver.
Our helmets were equipped with grooves for communication equipment like microphones, luckily, my helmet had one already. I saw that Emma and the other girl were going to have to make do with short wave radios. Their helmets were an older variant and didn't have the technology installed. There was no longer any industry to make equipment so they would have to make do with what they had. Emma was lucky. She was issued with an M4 service rifle and some ammunition. The carbine was sleek, black, and in Emma's hands was going to be a killer if we ran into any infected. She was one of the best shots in our block. Shooting practice was mandatory in our Military Boarding school which was just a fancy name for an orphanage.
Emma sauntered toward me brandishing her well-worn carbine as if it were some long lost baby. She winked at me and I just rolled my eyes in return. She could be so childish sometimes. However, I knew this was her way of coming to grips with her fear. Underneath the bluster and grins was someone who was just as scared as I was if not more. Jesse was an unknown to Emma and I. She had come from block A. Both Emma and I were block B. No time for chat however as we made our way out into the parking lot of the boarding school. We knew it was best not to be late lest sergeant McMillian berate us. Two well-worn doors of solid oak opened into the parking lot. A low blaze of early morning sun glinted off our helmets' visors. I put my hand up to shield myself from the glare.
When the glare melted away behind the brick buildings I saw what awaited us. There was a Humvee and a truck both painted a rather lackluster military green. There were five people, two older veterans, and three younger men who looked to be about our age, and an agitated sergeant. We knew what would come next. Her voice boomed in the early morning air, "What the fuck do we have here? Have you finally decided to join us?" We all saluted in unison. McMillian looked at her watch and shook her head, "Never mind that, and let's get down to brass tacks shall we?" The sergeant took out a map of the area and handed it to the man beside her. Despite my fear I was curious and wanted to know what had roused the six of us from our beds. What was so important?
The man Sergeant McMillian had given the map took a few paces forward. He was clean shaven, his armor fit as if he was born into it, a giant Bowie knife hung from the belt at his waist alongside his ammunition pouches. Eyes the shade of brown regarded us coolly, already judging. "My name is Lieutenant Wright, I'm sure you already know McMillian. The fellow to the left of you is Corporal Greer." Greer sat atop the Humvee beside the 50 caliber machine gun, looking a bit older than his compatriots, a scar bisected his lips turning his expression into a permanent grimace. Head covered by a worn forage cap he contented himself by cleaning his fingernails with a small knife, he glanced at us with disinterest and looked away. If he was a veteran as I suspected, why did he never rise above the rank of corporal?
Our group gathered around the Lieutenant. Wright cleared his throat and began speaking, voice cutting through the early morning cold. "A few hours ago we lost contact with a patrol less than two clicks outside the city," his finger tapped the map. "We suspect either infected or the Fireflies killed them. The reason this little group has been called together is that we need to retrieve any equipment they would have brought with them. If they are alive we need to get them back safely. Dead grunts mean we burn them to prevent the spread of infection. The reason you newbies have been selected is that we are a bit short on manpower and need to scrape the bottom of the barrel." Those brown eyes never left us. I felt distinctly uncomfortable as his gaze met mine. Quickly I lowered my eyes but the feeling didn't leave.
He was not done yet, "If our little militia group, the Fireflies, is behind their disappearance we are to pacify the area with extreme prejudice, no prisoners, and no survivors. Got it?" Our shouts of affirmation echoed through the empty parking lot. Hands imitating a sweeping motion, McMillian shouted, "Mount up!" All six of us piled into the back of the old military truck. I got wedged between Emma and the other girl whose name I had yet to learn. McMillian, Lieutenant Wright and the corporal rode in the Humvee. Our male recruits sat on the other side of us. Two looked like identical twins, tall, angular, shaped faces and prominent noses. They both introduced themselves at the same times as Thomas and Christopher. Shorter than the others by far, the third had a flat face and spoke with a bit of a lisp. His name was Rory.
The last to introduce herself was the girl whom had been quietly with us for most of the morning. Words finally came from her, slow and quiet, "I'm Jesse." I smiled at her and shook her hand, Emma just grinned. Jesse was shorter than me and had close cropped brown hair that made her helmet more comfortable to wear. She was quiet, and shy, almost waiflike in her appearance. A harsh wolf whistle sounded from ahead of us; we all looked in the direction of Corporal Greer. He made an obscene gesture and pointed, "Check out them Fireflies recruits! This is where they should be!" He let loose a hearty chuckle. I looked up and gasped, bodies hung from telephone poles on either side of the street, grotesque and bloated, signs proclaiming their allegiance in bright yellow. A reminder to the people that law and order resided with the remnants of the federal government not those who would usurp it.
As we drove through Boston the survivors of the plague were all around. Each one going about their miserable lives the best they could. Men, women, children, old people, sat in lines and waited for their rations. Dogs barked, trash littered the streets, human and otherwise. Checkpoints were everywhere; manned by hard men and women wearing the dull navy blue of the people's protectors or oppressors, it depended on whom you asked. The nearer we got to the gate the more stringent the security became. A great bastion loomed in front of us; the wall. 100 ft. high and made of solid concrete, it provided people with a measure of security not found anywhere else. On approach, the gate began to creak and groan, slowly moving to let us through. Cold eyes stared at us through visors covered with early morning mist. The gate closed behind us isolating us from those inside.
We were beyond the wall. I felt butterflies in my stomach, Emma's face had turned into a deep frown. The concrete on the road became cracked and worn, a victim of neglect. In front of us two massive skyscrapers leaned on each other like wounded soldiers. Each bearing the weight of the other. If one let go the other would fall and vice-versa. Craters were all over the place a reminder of the army's attempts to eradicate the infected through brute force. It had failed. The world had been overtaken by nature. Burnt out husks of cars and trucks littered the way in front of us making navigation difficult. Vines crisscrossed the buildings weaving intricate tapestries and designs in green. Spots of beauty in a world of desolation.
The truck slowed to a stop. My daydreaming came to an end. The road we had been on abruptly ended. A mismash of cars and debris greeted us. Luckily the skyscrapers were just ahead. We dismounted, weapons raised, ready to go. I hoped that fate would be kind to us today and we would all make it back alive. Lieutenant Wright found us a way around the impasse of debris and cars, his sense of direction was uncanny. Clearly, these were his stomping grounds. By the time we got closer to the base of the leaning skyscrapers it was midday. A massive crater loomed in front of us, like a black hole, it sucked in the weak sunlight.
All nine of us stood at the lip of the crater scanning in all directions looking for signs of the infected or Fireflies. There was nothing. Everyone was sweating profusely, it stung my eyes, made my hands slippery, and made my hair stick to the insides of my helmet. My eyes couldn't deceive me, the crater was so large. Whatever had done this had true destructive power and here I was with a 38 Revolver and fifty rounds. Emma came up behind me and clapped her hand on my shoulder. Sweat dripped down her face, pooling behind her shoulder blades, making her navy blue shirt beneath the Kevlar ever darker. Strands of hair stuck to her forehead where helmet met skin. Blue eyes gazed at me with concern. "Lexi are you okay?" She whispered. I shrugged, what could I say? Muscles taught as wires, pounding heart, jittery nerves. Yep doing great. The look she was given told her what was on my mind.
We made it slowly and deliberately around the crater, careful footsteps paving the way forward. The base of the first two skyscrapers loomed in front of us. Leaning precariously the building's foundations were sinking into the ground. 20 years of neglect had taken a toll on the architecture. Vines crept up the sides, twisting together like lovers. Our way in was a hole in the side of the building, explosives? No that would've brought the whole thing down. Before we went in Lieutenant Wright brought us together. He spoke quickly and calmly, "Alright people this is it. We go in, find the missing patrol, and get out as fast as we can. Noise and light discipline. Killing infected is not our priority but if they see you do what you need to do. Any questions?"
Emma spoke up, "What if shit hits the fan? Any suggestions?" Wright looked at her with those cool brown eyes of his, shifted his weight, and replied, "Get back outside as quickly as possible and rendezvous at the lip of the crater. We are sticking together but keep your mics and short wave radios handy if we get separated. Put your gasmasks on there may be spores in the area. Lastly, if you or anyone else gets bit, follow protocol and deal with them as quickly as possible." The words hung in the air casting a shadow over all of us. None of us wanted to even think about that. Respirators were taken from belts and put over faces. I hated the masks they made me feel too constricted. Wright spoke again his voice muffled by his gasmask, "Let's move we're burning daylight people."
Into the hole we went, it was like being swallowed up by a dark presence. Creaks and groans made a cacophony of noise, the weight of the building shifted to and fro. People used to work here cubicles, and office chairs were everywhere. Cracked walls, water damage, flooding, and too much nature. The building had seen better days. Bodies soon joined the display and they were not pleasant to look at. We found those of the last patrol lying where they fell. Shell casings and blood littered the stained carpet and floor, painting a surreal tapestry. Discarded weapons and the bodies of the infected told the story. I felt bile in my throat and resisted the urge to puke. The smell was awful even through the respirators on my gasmask.
Lieutenant Wright shined his flashlight over the scene, "Looks like the poor bastards were overrun and torn to pieces. Fuck. Alright let's do this quickly and quietly." Our group moved from body to body removing blood splashed body armor, guns from cold hands, and helmets from unmoving faces. Eyes wide open, staring at nothing. Corporal Greer had brought a tarp from the Humvee and we placed the discarded gear and weapons on it. After everything was collected it was time to go. Suddenly there was a dead silence. I looked up at Wright, he had frozen in place. One of the infected was right in front of him, it had heard our noise and come to investigate.
The fungal infection that had brought humanity to the brink was horrifying. Infection happened through bodily contact, or inhalation of the spores that would be given off by recently deceased infected. All it took was two days for the host to be incubated. Sensory and motor functions would be stolen from them while the victim remained consciously aware. Stage 1 infected still retained their sight and were inhumanly violent. Stage 3's were the worst. The infection would burst through their eye sockets and encircle the person's head. Their teeth were not covered and they used them to rip people apart or go for the throat. Since they could no longer see they would click and use echolocation to find their prey.
Jesse must have seen it too because she gasped and panicked. Firing her revolver and she clipped the thing's shoulder. Pandemonium ensued; shooting and shouts. Infected humans spilled in from every direction, dozens maybe even hundreds. I got separated from Emma and was back to back with Greer, firing my revolver for all it was worth. Ammunition ran out fast and I had to use my nightstick to crush their skulls. The infected were making awful wailing and keening noises. Corporal Greer grabbed me and pulled me up a flight of stairs. My heart was pounding like a freight train and hands shaking uncontrollably. There was a loud curse from Greer. Our way was blocked by debris. He turned to me, eyes wild, "You got any fuckin ammo, newbie, cause I sure don't?" I shook my head, feeling tears on the edges of my eyes. Willing them away I tried to think.
"Help me block the stairs." I said. We tried to pull some of the debris down but it was too heavy. The wails of the infected were becoming louder. Out of options, the window beckoned us. Wind blew through whipping around the empty stairwell. The drop was about 40 or 50ft. Death or severe injury was a certainty if we jumped. Greer's eyes started straight into mine. "Death up here or down there newbie. I certainly aint gonna turn into one of those things." I shook my head, "What about the others?" His gaze turned cold. "They're as good as dead, and this is our only chance." Disgust framed my features. "Coward." I said simply. A flicker of a smile crossed his face. He extended his arm and pointed, infected were rushing up the stairs, closer and closer. "Death." Like a signpost the other arm stood straight over the edge, cold eyes never left me, "Life." Then he jumped and I fell with him, a scream escaped my lips as the ground came up to meet me. Gravity became blackness.
Pain, lots of pain. Someone was speaking but the words were gibberish. Speech didn't come to me, it couldn't. Unconsciousness was better, not being able to feel, a luxury. Impressions of a hand was on my shoulder. Light became brighter as my eyes opened. The picture that was created for me was one of confusion. I was lying on a cot. A figure stood over me and put something into my hand, I was too weak to resist. My hand raised and I saw it was covered in bandages. My breath caught in my throat. Small, silver, a crucifix. Floodgates opened and I wept. Through blurry eyes I saw that the figure was a woman, African American, brown shirt, and beige khakis. Her expression was impassive, tinged by a hint of sadness. Then she spoke, "My name is Marlene. Welcome to the Fireflies."
Disclaimer: This story, Beyond the Wall, is based off of Naughty Dog's IP: The Last of Us. The setting is theirs; story and characters are my own creation with the exception of Marlene's final reveal at the very end.