The Dark Years
Prologue
It had been eight years since the war started. Eight long, hard fought years against an enemy that went completely against all the previous rules of engagement. They spared no man, no woman, no child. They feel no fear, they walk straight into death by the hundreds without a thought. It had been eight years since the first encounter with the undead plague in a remote Chinese town, an encounter which led to the most catastrophic disaster the world had ever know.
Now here they were. Pushing their way back across the country in two long lines, killing Zs and taking back everything that mankind had lost. Small squads of men and women, pushing in waves through towns and cities, clearing out nests of zombies trapped in houses, meeting up with survivors and occasionally supplying them with the things they needed.
It was the liberation of the country, and it was long, hard, deadly work.
The four man squad moved through the alleyway that ran between the small houses and garages that made up this particular corner of a Minneapolis suburbs. They had just finished sweeping the parsonage of a local church and were now moving to the church itself. Minneapolis had been one of the less infested cities that the army had been through, and it had been a couple days since they had had to deal with any large numbers of zombies, not to mention the almost total absence of nests in the immediate area.
"Yo, hey yo Sarge?" The speaker was a younger man, his Standard Infantry Rifle was slung behind his back while he carried his lobo free in his right hand, resting it on his shoulder easily. The Red Sox baseball cap and his smooth boston accent left no doubt where most of his prewar life had been lived.
"Whatcha got Brian?" The older of the four asked, his fatherly southern drawl belying the smoldering fire in his eyes.
"Well, you see I was just wondering why we ain't seeing nobody?" Brian's nervous eyes shifted from side to side, scanning the alley as they came up to a large brick building. "Whata you think Tony?"
"Nobody eh? They don't really count as anybody anymore." The full blooded italian mechanic smirked as he looked over the buildings defenses. It was surprisingly well barricaded, one of the best jobs he'd seen since they started taking back the country from the hordes. "Who knows, maybe some military holed up in here, it's defensible enough. Studson?"
"Door's been welded shut, iron bars across the glass," The southerner brushed his hand along the edges of the door, feeling along the hinges. "Take care of the door sparky."
"Yeah!" Brian moved to the door and began sweeping away the dust and dirt with his sleeve. He placed the charges on the door then stepped back with the others. "Yo, Salim! toss me that dagger of yours!"
"You don't like your lobo?" The Pakistani asked pulling the dagger from the scabbard at his side and handing it to Brian.
"Naw, I like my lobo, it's just that this little baby's so wicked awesome!" Brian smiled as he hefted the dagger. The blade went out straight from the handle for about six inches, then angled outward at a thirty degree angle for another eight inches. "And besides, there probably aint much room in there either."
"Very well, but you should get yourself a machete if you're worried about close fighting." Salim backed around the side of the building with the others and waited for Brian to finish planting the explosives. Presently Brian came around the corner holding a lighter and wearing a huge grin.
A sudden boom shook the neighborhood. Brian moved around the corner and stepped into the dark and smoking doorway, dagger held ready.
"Sh*t!" Brian whistled as he looked around. He was standing on the landing of a stairway that led down to the basement as well as up to the upper story.
"What'd I tell you 'bout using profanities in my squad?" Studson spoke form outside where he and Tony were keeping watch while Salim moved in to cover Brian.
"To not to." Brian looked sullen as he scanned the buildings interior. The floors were covered with spent bullet casings and shotgun shells, as well as copious amounts of dried blood. There was little light in the building, most of it coming from the newly opened door. "But come'on sir, it's a class A clusterf..."
"Enough! My momma told me that no son of hers was going to be a profane, womanizing drunkard when I went off to the academy, and I honored her ever since. You'll behave while you're in my squad son, you got that?"
"Whatever old man," Brian grumbled under his breath. He stooped and picked up a few shells of differeing size and shape and tossed them out the doorway as he kept his eyes down the narrow hallway. "Any chance that it was military holed up here?"
"Hmm." Studson examined the casings with care then casually tossed them into the grass, "They look civilian to me. Old two-two-three by the looks of it, some thirty-aught-six along with a twenty gauge shotgun shell. Might have some infected inside so watch out."
"You got it." Brian said as he started to move up the couple of stairs and unto the main level. He stopped as he saw a figure move from around a corner far at the other side of the open foyer. "Heads up Salim, cover me."
Brian crouched low and began creeping towards the figure. Suddenly it let out a deep guttural moan. Brian dropped to the ground then heard the crack of a rifle behind him and watched as the Pyrotechnically Initiated Explosive bullet blazed through the zombies skull and sent it slumping to the ground.
"Nice shot Salim..." Brian rose and pumped a fist in the air when something crashed through the door next to him and sent him flailing to the ground. The creature moaned as it fell onto Brian opening it's mouth as it leaned towards his face. Brian suddenly watched the zombies eyes light up as the PIE round blazed inside it's head.
"Here," Salim extended a hand then helped Brian to his feet. "You better give me the dagger back, so far it's two kills for SIR; zero for dagger."
"Yeah, sounds like a good idea," Brian looked shaken as he handed the dagger to Salim then pulled the rifle from his back, "Let's get them in here."
"Hey, looks like we're going to have to sweep it," Salim said sticking his head out the door just as more moans reached his ears. "And by the sound of it there are a lot of them."
"Alright then, let's go." Studson spoke as he ducked in the door. He motioned his squad forward then took up the rear as they moved steadily down the hallway.
Brian took point with Salim next to him while Tony and Studson covered the rear and sides. They moved quickly through the church, clearing rooms of any zombies as they happened upon them.
As they came to the other end of the main floor they reached a stairway.
"Sir?" Brian asked as he motioned upstairs.
"We'll take the top first, then move to the basement," Studson smiled as he started up the stairs, "Keep those Gs from tripping down the stairs after us."
"You got it sir," Brian moved up the steps quickly then stopped when he reached the top. He raised his rifle and fired at the first zombie and watched as it's eyes blazed in it's head. Then the moans came. Thirty, forty, none of them could tell how many exactly were crowding the halls, but it didn't matter as they came forward, moaning and stumbling and lurching, mouths agape and jaws hanging slack or clamping open and closed with gruesome anticipation.
Salim, Studson, and Tony were right behind Brian as the zombies came at them. Brian quickly dropped to one knee and began popping any crawlers that pulled themselves along the ground toward them. Meanwhile the others were dropping zombies one by one as they came staggering forward.
"Reloading!" Salim called out in his thick accent, pulling the magazine free from his rifle then jamming a new one into place.
Bodies were piling up now, the zombies were having a tough time climbing over the barricade made by their fallen comrades, and while they were slowly made their way across it they were picked off by the squad.
Finally the flow of zombies ceased. Studson moved to the pile of dead bodies and pushed it over with his foot. The bodies tumbled to the ground while Brian and the others checked for surviving Zs. The church had gone completely silent, and then a steady pounding started from a door to their left.
"Hello?" Brian shouted from a safe distance as he kept his rifle trained on the door, "Anyone in there?"
"I'll get the door." Salim moved up next to it quietly and turned the handle. It was unlocked. He pushed the door in just enough then kicked it with all his strength. There was a noise like someone tumbling to the ground, and then silence.
"Hel-" Brian was cut off as the figure appeared in the doorway. It had been a woman, young and pretty too. Whatever it had been wearing for pants had long since rotted away, only leaving the flimsy undergarments to protect any modesty the zombie might have had. It's shirt was ripped and moldy, leaving one of the breasts hanging floppily to one side. As it opened it's mouth to groan the was a crack from Brian's rifle and it fell to the ground, the PIE round blazing behind it's dull, lifeless eyes.
Brian shuddered and looked down. This one had been younger, closer to his age. It shook him inside. What was everyone doing here, and why were there so many Gs all in one place. They had seen bones down on the main level, the flesh long since cleaned, or rotted, off. There were bullet casings everywhere, and a few guns lying around here and there next to human remains. Brian slumped back into the wall then down to the floor.
"It's alright son," Studson was next to him in a second, comforting him and trying to get him to realize that it hadn't been a person, that the real person had died a long time before they had even come cross country. "It wasn't your fault, just stay strong."
Brian refused to make eye contact with any of the others. He was crying. It was too much for him to take. He had survived an apocalypse and killed hundreds of ghouls, he shouldn't be weeping like a child over one that had struck some chord in his heart. He chastised himself sharply then rose from the floor.
"I'm sorry," He sniffed as he wiped his puffy red eyes, "That wasn't right of me."
"Don't worry about," Salim spoke kindly to him almost like a brother, "We have all had our moments."
"Yeah." Brian shook himself as they started moving down the upper story hallway again. They checked the plethora of doors yet none housed any of the living dead. A couple of doors had to be broken down with the lobo's just to get in, but all they found were bodies. Some of these had starved, while some had put themselves, or each other, out of their misery.
Brian entered the hallway again and headed down to the last door on the left while Salim covered him. He stepped into the room and was met by nothing. No Gs, no bodies, no guns or ammo. All that was left in the room were abandoned sleeping bags, a few scattered cots, a couple of backpacks in the corner, and a desk with writing materials. Brian walked over to it and noticed a small journal lying open on top of it.
Brian picked up the small book and flipped through the pages. The handwriting was pretty bad early on, most likely a guy. Brian flipped to the first page and started reading.
I'm not sure why I've decided to keep a journal, maybe it's in remembrance of the friends that I've already lost, or possibly it's a monument to their sacrifice. We are moving into our second year of war and none of us are the same.
I'm nineteen now, a shell of who I used to be, no longer the child I once was but more a man than I could have imagined. Mom and Dad are up north with the rest of the family, I hope they're doing well. They were north, at our farm, when the infection hit and I called them and told them to stay, promised I'd take care of my two younger brothers, and said we'd be at the church incase the outbreak proved harmless.
I wish it had been harmless.
I had started stockpiling ammo for my rifles when I began hearing about a strange disease called African rabies and the rumors that went along with it. I wondered if it had anything to do with the lockdown of China's borders but didn't take any real action, it wasn't serious enough.
But gradually it became serious. Rumors of the dead coming to life, a miracle drug that could prevent infection, and quarantines all around the country, that's when I started spending all my money on food, water, and weapons. I would store them at the church, even though my youth pastor thought I was crazy. He said that it couldn't really be the 'zombie apocalypse' and that I was being paranoid.
I look at him now. This soft spoken California native is carrying a gun with him wherever he goes, his first duty to protect the lives of his friends and family.
And it's the same for everyone else. A dread has settled over the church. The honeymoon is over, playing 'survival' is getting old and everyone wants things to return to normal. I'm starting to think that this is normal, that this is how normal is going to be for a long time.
With any luck we'll have the military here soon, but if what I hear is true, that Yonkers was a disaster, well they might as well stay where they are, we don't need any more bodies to infect.
Settling in,
Devon Emerson,
May 26th, 2010.
"Anything in here?" Salim stuck his head in door, SIR held ready.
"Just some reading materials," Brian waved the book so Salim could see it, "I'll read some of it by the fire tonight."
"You do that, now we're moving downstairs." Salim turned and jogged down the hallway back to the steps and down to where Studson and Tony were waiting for them. As they moved down the steps Brian wondered what story might lie in the pages of the journal. He almost dreaded reading it, knowing how it must have ended, yet he was curious all the same.
"Tonight," He said to himself quietly, "I'll find out tonight."
There was barely anything to look forward to during the long push to New York.