RAZE, PART 2: EARTHFALL
CHAPTER 1: THE UNDEAD
You couldn't imagine the kind of horror that filled our waking minds for a long time after finding the aliens' newest weapon: a zombie virus. All men present in the run-down facility were scared, to say the least. We found no dead bodies on site, and there were blood stains on the ship that shouldn't have been there. That meant that we had no idea just how many of not only aliens but our own guys we would have to gun down. All of us had our ways of coping with the discovery. Al paced around relentlessly while blasting Journey through his headphones. Others still just stayed lying on their beds, staring at the ceiling, almost as if they'd been marked for death. I simply let my thoughts run free, contemplating our seemingly hopeless situation.
Of course, seeing as we were still facing an enemy, watch duty and patrol duty was still assigned. My watch position was at the west side of the central rotunda, where we were. And so, I took up my position, rifle poised, with sweat continually rolling down my face in anticipation. Everyone on watch, including me, fidgeted constantly, as if they wanted to run and hide instead of facing the monstrosities that at one time might have been our friends. It was worse during patrol. Every distant bang or small thump caused us to freeze and train our guns on random spots on the wall, expecting an undead soldier to burst through.
Nothing was the same as before. Even Al made no effort to lift our spirits. Fortunately, Max had called the facility back in L.A. to get reinforcements. There weren't any available from L.A., so he called the guys in Salt Lake City. They had some to spare, though they were tied down in a siege themselves. The good thing was that we didn't have any casualties at that point, so some reinforcements was enough for us. The reinforcements would arrive about a day later, which gave us some assurance. Meanwhile, we would have to lay low and kill any undead that we encountered. After they arrived, all we'd have to do was move out and destroy all undead in the city. It was likely the zombies would stay in the city, as there was really no one else to stir them up.
It was a challenge. On one day, I was patrolling with a couple of other guys when a pack of about five zombies, all aliens, rushed us. I tore up the face of one zombie with my rifle, and another of the guys performed an overhead strike with his knife, splitting the zombie's head. One zombie managed to get close enough that we couldn't shoot it, and the third guy used his gun like a baseball bat, tearing off the zombie's jaw, after which he mercilessly pounded its head in. He looked in disgust at the butt of his gun, now covered in brain matter. The final two zombies were no problem. We popped a couple of rounds into their heads, and we were done with it.
We went to Max about what had happened. He nodded and said, "I guess they know we're not coming to them. They're stepping up." Walking away, he said, "These most certainly are not the zombies from Hollywood." Al walked up and asked, and I told him what happened. "Well, I'm just glad you're in one piece, buddy," said Al. "Me, too," I said. Al patted my shoulder, readied his rifle, and reported for his watch duty.
Many a time we had to kill some random passing horde of zombies, of which there seemed to be no end. We had three casualties since I first faced off with the undead. I didn't know any of the guys, but they didn't respond to us via intercom, and there weren't any bodies to be found. What we did find was a bloody piece of armor and one zombie with a smoking hole in its midsection. That meant two possibilities: either the zombies ate flesh, or if you died at their hands, you were infected. One of the biggest blows to my psyche, however, occurred a few hours after this discovery.
Johann, Al, Kyle, me, and some other guy were patrolling around eight o' clock at night. We were admittedly confident. In fact, we were too confident. We didn't count on the zombies' capability to, though with great limits, adapt to their situation. We had stopped at the entrance and were about to quit our shift. Johann was farthest from the entrance, and as I looked towards him, my eyes drifted towards a shadowy spot just shy of his Achilles. There were two dull eyes staring at it. I screamed, "JOHANN!" But it had already lunged. It bit his heel, tearing out a chunk. Johann fell, writhing, while the zombie prepared to go for the neck. I tore apart the zombie's head with rifle rounds. It fell next to Johann, gurgling through what was left of its mouth. Seething, I lowered my rifle and walked towards Johann.
He quickly dragged himself away, saying, "No…Turner, I'm infected…just have someone kill me." "No, NO!" I yelled in despair, "No, I can't kill you! I can't!" Johann looked at me for a few seconds, then pulled out his T2, saying, "Then at least…turn around…walk away, and don't look back." He put to the gun to his head, and I said, "No…please don't." "I have to," said Johann through gritted teeth, "Now TURN AROUND AND WALK AWAY." I gulped and saluted him. He returned the salute, and, with tears in my eyes, I did as Johann said. I turned. I walked through the entrance. I heard a shot ring out in the dead air. I didn't look back.
I was given leave for the rest of the day, as were Al and Kyle. When a few hours had passed, sitting on my bed, Max came up and said, "Johann is buried. You can see him if you'd like." I gulped, choked up a little bit, and said, "Okay." I walked outside to see a large pile of rocks with an assault rifle sticking out of the middle. Al, Kyle and I sat in front. As soon as Hishi heard, he joined us. Upon seeing the grave, he said, "At least he died honorably." I laughed bitterly and said, "What kind of honor is to be found in this?" "Well," said Hishi, "he didn't want you to have to kill or be killed, especially by him. It was brave of him." "I guess it was," I said.
I stayed at the grave for a few hours, at one point not even caring if I was killed. Kyle eventually came out, saying, "Don't blame yourself." "I'm not," I said, "It's just…I didn't even know him for a year. I was just starting to like him. If it had gone another way, we could've been best friends." "Hey," said Kyle, "I don't think he'd want you to think that way. You were bestfriends. Don't treat his memory this way." "Kyle, at this point, I'm wondering how I'll treat all of your memories. How many more of us are going to get picked off? I mean, the odds we're against…" "I know what we're against," said Kyle, "but you can't just lie down and die." "Why not?" I said, "Why shouldn't I just give up? Everything's been downhill."
Kyle didn't respond for a few seconds. Eventually, he said, "Look, you're right. Nothing has gone our way, and it's still getting worse. But you know what? I will NOT surrender. If I'm going to go down, I'm going to go down swinging. But if you want to sit here and get torn apart by zombies, go ahead. The people who still have some shred of hope will be just inside." Kyle stormed off. I still sat there, staring at the pile of rocks which concealed a deceased hero. Eventually, a zombie gingerly crawled towards me, never breaking its gaze. "Do it," I said, "We won't make it anyway." The zombie lunged towards me. Suddenly, the zombies head exploded. I turned around to see Al, his sniper rifle smoking, up in a parapet.
I walked inside after a few minutes, immediately coming across Al. He promptly punched me in the face. I fell down, nose bleeding, and Al looked at me with tears in his eyes and said, "Don't ever do that again, or consider our friendship terminated." He extended his hand towards me. I took it, and he pulled me up. Al and I split off in different directions towards our assigned barracks, and Kyle fell in step next to me. "So," I said, "did you tell Al that I was out there?" Deadpan, Kyle said, "I have no idea what you're talking about." We stopped and stared at each other for a long time, eventually cracking up. Kyle put his hand on my shoulder and said, "But seriously, though, don't give up. Al, me, Hishi…we all need you here." "Thanks," I said.
A few minutes later, the guys from Salt Lake City arrived, and we were in business. Max assigned them barracks, and they all headed off in different directions. I went back to mine, lying down and taking out the photo of Natalie I always kept. I said, "Well, I lost a friend today. It almost feels like losing you again…but I saw it happen. I saw it happen. And I couldn't stop it. What if I lose everybody? I couldn't protect you. So I'll try…no, I will protect everybody else." I kissed the photo and put it back in my gauntlet. One of the Salt Lake City guys had walked in as I was talking, and he said, "Who were you talking to?" "Just my girlfriend," I replied, "She's, uh, dead, so…" "Oh," he said, "I'm sorry." "It's fine," I said. Suddenly laughing, I continued, "In fact, if she saw me crying over a photo of her, she'd probably shoot me with my own gun!"
The guy laughed and said, "Sounds like you had a good woman." "Oh, I had a great woman," I said, "She was tough yet loving, beautiful as the sun, and without her…without her, I wouldn't be here today." "Yeah," said the guy, "I had someone like that. Real feisty. She was hell-bent on marrying me." "So what happened?" I said. "Leukemia," he said, "We couldn't afford treatment." "That's terrible," I said. "Oh, no," he said, "not with a spirit like hers. She was brave, braver than most men I've met." "What was her name?" I said. "Her name was Sylvia," he said, "Her name was Sylvia Silverblood." "That's a strange name," I said. "Didn't make her any less awesome," he said. We both laughed, and he continued, "I'm here because of her. I want to try to be as strong as she was." I nodded, and I decided that I would do the same. "My name's Gerald," he said, extending his hand. I shook it, saying, "Turner." "Well," he said, "I have to report to Max. See you later." I waved good bye to my new friend and laughed again.