Chapter 1
Frankly, the air stunk. The thick stench of death and decay was making it hard to breathe properly. Dean Winchester pressed a hand to his mouth and fought the urge to vomit. Blinking the sleep from his dark green eyes, he scanned the room he had woken up in. Loud yells rang through the air from somewhere nearby. Panic set it. He recognized nothing about his surroundings, this room was most definitely not the motel room he and his brother had fallen to sleep in the previous night.
"Sammy? Cas?" Sleepy mumbles from another room was the only reply he received. Dean rushed into the other room and found Sam asleep on one of the beds, his large feet dangling over the edge and his hands clenched around the handles of the duffel bag containing their weapons.
Allowing himself a small sigh of relief, Dean cautiously made his way over to his younger brother, patting his own pockets down as he walked. His pockets where still empty, sans for his wallet which contained a few notes and his IDs. Waking his brother was no real feat, as both of them had been trained from a young age to sleep lightly. Sam blinked tiredly as he took in his brother standing at the foot of the bed looking confused and distraught.
"Dean? What's up?" The elder Winchester merely shrugged and motioned for him to look around. Before either could say anything else, the yelling began again outside and gunshots now sung out. Suddenly there was a loud thumping on the door. On instinct both boys reached for their guns. By the time the door swung open to reveal a young man wearing a cap, standing shocked in the door way, both Sam and Dean had their guns poised and trained in his direction.
"Ho-lee shit guys! There are people here! They ain't zombies or shit! We got more survivors!" The boy in the door way seemed to unfreeze and rush forward, suddenly all smiles. Now even more confused, the brothers kept their guns high and pointed towards the stranger. Shortly after the Southerners entrance, two more people rushed inside, a dark skinned woman and a dark skinned, rather heavy set man, both puffing slightly, the female's leg was ripped and bleeding in places. Everyone stood warily, each person waiting for another to make the first move.
"Well hey there! Mah name's Ellis. 'Nd this 'ere lady is Rochelle 'nd this guy is Coach. Ya'll don't know how happy we are ta see others round here!" Silence followed the Southerners outburst and someone at the back of the room cleared their throat.
"Um, Dean..."
Everyone whirled around to face the new voice.
"Cas! What the hell man?" Dean rushed forward to meet with the newest addition to the room, still keeping his gun in the air while Sam lowered his slightly. Before anything else could be said everyone flinched as a door slammed shut and another set of heaving lungs was added to the group.
"Thanks for the help with that Charger guys. I really appreciate you guys running off while I was reloading."
"'Nd that one there is Nick. He's kind of an ass. Ignore him."
Silence reigned as both groups stood huddled at opposite sides of what the Winchesters learned was called a 'safe house'. The one called Ellis wandered over occasionally to relay their plans for making it to the next safe area. Dean merely grunted at the plan while Sam listened intently, his head nodding every so often. Rochelle scouted around the house for supplies, handing out ammo and the occasional machete as she walked by. Coach was deep in thought was he stood bent over a few pieces of paper that vaguely resembled a map, taking a break every so often to fish another snack bar or candy from his seemingly bottomless pockets. The man in the white suit, Nick, Dean recalled him being called, stood quietly in the corner, watching the three new people closely. A look of obvious distrust clear on his face. After an hour or two Rochelle gathered everyone together to go over their plans one last time before they all set out.
"So what are your names and how long have you boys been out here fighting?" Dean shuffled his feet before pushing himself up from the chair he had been sitting on.
"I'm Dean, this is my little brother Sam, and this... Uh, this is Castiel." Castiel and Sam both nodded respectively at their introductions.
"What do you mean by fighting? What's going on?" Sam questioned, slightly panicked at the woman's words. The other four looked around at each other, their confusion evident.
"Um, we're in the middle of a god damn zombie apocalypse. How could'ya not know that?" Nick smoothed the lapels of his blood stained jacket. It was going to be a long day.
They left once the provisions were dealt out and night had fallen. The seven of them walked outside cautiously, everyone's eyes skirting around their surroundings. A soft sobbing sound was heard coming from somewhere close by and Coach automatically mumbled a quick 'lights off'. Wandering blindly but purposefully, the makeshift team stuck close together and pressed forward. Dean switched his machete to his right hand and gripped the right arm of Castiel's trench coat, crushing the tan material in his fist.
"Are you alright Dean?" Castiel's voice came out soft and low. He didn't seem to mind that the fearless hunter was clutching his arm tightly or that said hunter was as skittish as ever. The elder Winchester ignored the question and kept his eyes trained on the surrounding streets, quickly assessing the small alleys between the houses, searching for the creator of the bone chilling sobs. Sam walked upfront beside Rochelle, silently following her every move, trying to determine exactly what sort of mess they had found themselves in this time. Theory after theory ran through his mind, each just as confusing as the one prior it.
"Sam wasn't it?" He nodded slightly in acknowledgment to the woman's inquiry. She opened her mouth to speak but closed it quickly after seeming to change her mind. They rounded a corner and before he knew what was happening, Coach had him by the scruff of his neck and Rochelle pressed a slender finger to her lips with one hand and pointed silently in front of him with the other. A few feet in front of him sat a stick skinny young girl, crouched into a ball with her hands covering her face. Looking harder, he noticed her fingers were deformed and looked more like claws than anything. She wasn't human. She was one of those 'Special Infected' zombies that Ellis had told them about earlier. The zombie rocked back on her heels and let loose another depressing sob, a slight growl following. Rochelle mouthed a single word at him.
"Witch."
Despite his training, Sam's body froze as the Witch before him tilted her head towards him. Her sunken eyes seemed to glow a dull yellow, and patches of the skin on her face were rotten and falling away. He has dealt with a lot of things in his time as a hunter, but this was just wrong. And from what he had been told the whole 'Green Virus' had been a man-made thing. This wasn't even a supernatural screw up. Rochelle motioned for everyone to head back around the corner. They were going to have to find another path to get through. A loud yell ripped through the air and the sole woman of the group was slammed backwards as some large mass hit her.
"CHARGER'S GOT RO!" The new zombie had pushed the female directly into the Witch who began screaming and flailing her claw-like hands. Coach shoved Sam back and aimed his shotgun at the Charger, but before he could pull the trigger, the lopsided zombie was dead on the ground. The Witch continued screaming and moved away from its corpse. Rochelle made an attempt to scramble to her feet but the movement caught the Witch's attention and she turned, still screaming and attacked the human lying on the ground before her.
Ellis rushed forwards, pulling the baseball bat off of his back as he moved. Without so much as batting an eyelid, the Southerner brought the bat down hard on the zombie's skull. The Witch paused momentarily before resuming her attack on Rochelle. Ellis raised the bat again and this time when he brought it down on the Witch's head, patches of blood mattered hair were dislodged and the sickening crunching of bones breaking was heard over the combined screams of Rochelle and her attacker. By the third hit, a good portion of the zombie's brains were visible. Nick shoved past and pushed the hick aside. Quickly raising his pistol and unloading a clip into the offered grey matter.
With the Witch's death, the only sounds left were Rochelle's laboured breathing. Ignoring the fact that he was once again covered in blood, grey matter and all sorts of nasty stuff, Ellis dropped to his knees and began assessing the females' wounds.
"We shou'd get a move on guys. She ain't gon last long if we pansy foot it." The remainder of the group grunted in agreement. All except Castiel who quietly muttered something.
"I can heal her." Silence was once again dominant as his words had yet to sink in.
"And how exactly are you planning on doing that Trench coat?"
"I'm an Angel." Nick blinked once and promptly because doubling over in laughter.
"Nick, it ain't funny. He looks like 'e means it." The hick watched Castiel's face closely.
"He's not lying guys. But I don't want it. Someone shoot me and then you lot keep moving." Ellis flinched at Rochelle's words and began muttering quickly under his breath. Nick glared sceptically at Castiel, and Coach just watched on quietly.
"Just heal her Cas." The younger Winchester muttered. He knew he hardly knew the woman but is had grown fond of her during this short time. Castiel shook his head mutely.
"She refuses. I will not take away her free will."
"Guys, please." Her voice sounded tight and something inside of Dean snapped. Swapping his machete for a pistol, he raised it slowly and moved forward.
"I'll do it."
NaNoWriMo 2010 November 1