Don't try to be a hero. Just get all the ammo you can find and get the hell back here. Lives depend on it!
— Deputy Andy
We found the hastily-scribbled note clutched inside the cold, dead hand of a dead and mutilated cop lying on the road, next to the open door of a pickup truck, whose cargo bed was loaded with two plastic boxes filled with ammunition. It was obvious that the zombies had gotten to him when he left his supply-laden vehicle, presumably because it had stopped working. My guess was confirmed when Priscilla lifted the truck's hood to check the engine, and as she slammed it shut, I asked, "So what do we do with all these bullets?"
"We take 'em to the sheriff's office. They'll have more use for this than we do." Priscilla said, and I nodded as we clambered up into the cargo bed to begin unloading the truck. I took point with Priscilla's shotgun while she carried the munitions, and I was sweating bullets (pun intended) as we made our way down the road. However, we managed not to draw the ire of any nearby zombies, and we soon found ourselves at the perimeter of the Kingsmouth survivors' compound.
The makeshift barricade was made mostly of chain-link fencing, with cars, dumpsters, portable toilets, and pretty much anything the people of Kingsmouth could get their desperate hands on. Townspeople armed with hunting rifles and shotguns manned the perimeter, and I could feel their wariness as Priscilla and I stepped forward. In response, Priscilla raised the ammo boxes up so they could see, and one of the sentries motioned towards the gate leading into the compound.
"This for us?" A young man in a police uniform asked. He was boyishly handsome, I guess, and at Priscilla's nod, he slung his rifle over his back and took the munitions cases from her much like a bellhop at a hotel. As he struggled with the ammo boxes' weight much more than Priscilla had, he introduced himself to us. "I'm Deputy Andrew Gardener, but everyone around here just calls me Deputy Andy."
"Nice to meet you, Deputy." Priscilla said, nodding politely towards him. "I'm Priscilla, and this is Chase. We, uh… found all this in the back of a truck. We think it was driven by one of your fellow officers — we got a note written by you right here."
Priscilla swapped the note for one of the ammo boxes Deputy Andy was holding, and tears started welling up in the corners of the deputy's eyes. "I… I see… Yeah, he… he was a good guy. Wicked swell… You, uh… You guys go on ahead and see Helen — uh, Sheriff Bannerman in the police station. I'll take care of the supplies."
Priscilla and I exchanged glances before nodding, and Deputy Andy stuffed the note into his pocket before taking the box of ammo from Priscilla by its handle and heading off. As I watched the deputy go, I spoke aloud. "I sure hope he's going to be okay…"
"Yeah, me too…" Priscilla agreed sadly, and together, we walked into the police station. Inside were several wounded townsfolk being tended to by a middle-aged man in a white lab coat, who looked like he hadn't been getting enough sleep. The windows had been boarded up and barricaded as a last line of defense against the zombies, and the only desk that wasn't being used to block off a point of entry was occupied by a middle-aged policewoman. "Hello? Are you Sheriff Bannerman?"
"That's me." The policewoman said as she stood up from her seat, looking pretty calm and professional for someone whose police station and town was falling apart all around her. I felt my respect for the woman grow. "And who are you two?"
"I'm Priscilla Ross, and this is Chase Mercer." Priscilla said, gesturing with her hand. "We brought you guys some ammo."
"Yeah, I saw you two come in. First those two fellas, Boone and Wolf, and now you two." The sheriff said as we all shook hands. "Heck if I know where you keep coming from, but anyone who walks through that door alive pretty much gets my amnesty, especially if they bring housewarming gifts. We've been going through bullets like candy at Halloween. Now, if something in your pasts colors you sour to a badge, I'd ask you to call it quits and return. We agreeable?"
Priscilla and I both nodded, and then Priscilla spoke. "So what exactly did Boone and Wolf tell you?"
"They told me they were here to help, and a little about what's really been going on." Sheriff Bannerman said. "Reckon I must be all thumbs when it comes to secret handshakes. What I do know is that this island's cut from a different cloth, a damn weird cloth. Sure as there's a difference between being homely and being plain stupid.
"Take it from me, no one round these parts is a dope, not all the time. Everybody knows, or knows someone who knows. Salem's got nothin' on us. We had an episode with torches and pitchforks only… twenty-five years ago now? But my job, I gotta do it wearin' this police jacket, not a robe and wizard hat."
Sheriff Bannerman then swept her arm around the police station. "Anyways, welcome to the down-home little state of emergency that used to be my jurisdiction. Sure, we tried holding as much of the town as we could at first, more of nostalgia than any civil defense plan, but as you can see…"
"No need to explain." I said. "So any idea on why the zombie apocalypse came knocking on your door?"
Sheriff Bannerman sighed before soldiering on. "I won't tell you Kingsmouth was a slice of heaven in a snow globe, but it was ours, and now it ain't. There was always something running under in this town. Maybe that's what spilled out now. If that's how it works, I couldn't say hand on heart we didn't have it coming. But that fog, and the things in it, they didn't pick and choose when they came in. Most folks didn't stand a chance, and most of the ones that did made it here."
Sheriff Bannerman then cast a glance at the Benelli M4 Super 90 in my hands, and I belated realized that a minor in possession of a deadly weapon might not be the best first impression to give to a cop. "Now, I can see that at least one of you's armed. I won't kick up any fuss about that. Straight truth is, everyone needs to be. Just don't go thinking that means you're deputized or such. Heaven knows if there was ever a time and a place for the right to bear 'em, you're looking at it."
"Any survivors besides the ones here?" I asked, and to my relief, Sheriff Bannerman nodded. "Plus anyone else who might have a clue about what's going on?"
"Well, there's a biker by the name of Sandy Jansen here with us, though he goes by Moose. Came here for soft-shell lobster season, stayed to help us fend off the zeds. Wicked kind of him to do so." Sheriff Bannerman replied. "We've also got a few folks left holding out across the island. Well… there was, last time I could check, and I'm an optimist. Pays to see the donut, not the hole. Red's shack at Tolba Bay, the Innsmouth Academy, the Wabanaki Indian grounds — they should still be safe. Then there's that Roget woman and her crystal ball at Raven's Knock, and Norma Creed's out on the point with a 12-gauge. My money's on Norma."
"Thanks." Priscilla said as we turned to leave. As we stepped outside the building, Priscilla turned towards me. "Alright, here's the plan —"
"Jesus Christ, there's a whole horde of 'em coming our way!" Someone shouted, and the air was filled with gunshots, muzzle flashes, and smoke as the sentries opened fire. Handing Priscilla's shotgun back to her and drawing my Beretta, we ran over to the barricades and climbed onto the roof of a nearby car to see a horde of zombies straight out of the The Walking Dead. However, that wasn't the most frightening thing.
Even at a distance, I could tell that the new monster was over twice as tall as us, with blue flesh covered in dark seaweed like clumps of hair and barnacles, as if had just risen out of the darkest depths of the ocean, or Lovecraft's mind, or my mom's last attempt at making soup. The monster stood on legs as thick as Mom's meatloaf, and they were probably just as hard and inedible as well. Above a pair of regular-sized arms, another pair rippled their wrecking ball-sized muscles as giant crustacean claws that looked like they could chop through steel like balsa wood made a menacing snapping sound.
"Focus on the zombies! They're the more immediate threat!" Priscilla barked in a way that reminded me of Brigadier Lethe, and I immediately regained my senses. Trying hard not to focus on the great brute lumbering towards us, I began picking off the slower zeds one by one with my trusty handgun, while Priscilla took down the faster ones with blasts of shot.
As the zombie horde's ranks were thinned out and then finally depleted, Priscilla handed me her shotgun before grasping the top of the chain-link fence in preparation to jump over it. "Alright, I'm going in to take care of that thing. Stay here, and don't interfere."
"Hey, wait!" I called out as Priscilla vaulted over the fence and ran towards the monster. Objectively, I knew that she could probably match the monster blow for blow with her Reinforcement, but that didn't stop me from worrying.
My worries seemed to be unfounded, though, as Priscilla ducked and dodged the monster's heavy blows with ease, returning the favors with powerful punches of her own. However, my anxiety soon came back in full force when Priscilla made a miscalculation. As she blocked a hook from one of the monster's smaller arms, she didn't notice the monster's much larger arm coming towards her on the opposite side until it was too late. She went sailing through the air until she crashed into the concrete.
"Priscilla!" I screamed as I scrambled over the barricades, ignoring the survivors' words of protest. Running towards Priscilla as if my own life depended on it, I hastily dropped to one knee in order to began examining her, and words came pouring out of my mouth uncontrollably. "Please be alright please be alright please be alright…"
I then breathed a sigh of relief and thanked whoever was out there for Reinforcement. Without it, Priscilla probably would've been pulp on the ground instead of unconsciousness. A roar then brought me back into the present, and I froze in place, gulping in fear as I belatedly realized my current situation. Since its first opponent had been defeated, the monster had locked onto a new one: me. "This is gonna suck…"
My heart was pounding in my chest as I ducked beneath another swipe of the monster's crustacean claws, and my knees were shaking as adrenaline coursed through my body. Everything seemed so vivid to me, even now — the sheen of the monster's blue skin, as if it had just come out of the water, the murderous rage on its skeletal face, the jaws of death snapping in anticipation of chopping up a juicy teenager…
You idiot! How can you hope to succeed where Priscilla failed? You're just a kid with a few barely-learned spells. You're going to DIE!
The perspiration running down my skin clung to me as I dodged another blow in desperate search of an opening, for I had no wish to die. My flames were alight with blue flame as I tried my best to not get smashed, and spotting an opening, I let loose a steam of hot blue sparks at the monster, and it hissed in pain as it shielded itself with one of its large arms. Okay, good — my elemental magic worked on this thing, and I have just the spell in mind.
Leaping backwards away from the monster's blows with Reinforced legs for that extra boost, I began charging up anima for my next spell. Concentrating entirely on the energy coursing through me like electricity through circuits, blue lightning began to arc from my body, crackling with a menace that rivaled that of the monster's as the air stank of ozone.
The electricity arced off my glowing blue hands to form what looked like a hammer floating above my head, and the monster looked up just in time to get its head crushed and electrocuted simultaneously by my projectile, which dropped from the sky with all the force of a meteorite when I slammed a fist into the palm of my other hand.
The ozone in the air now stank with the stench of burnt flesh as the lumbering seafood special fell backwards, and I found myself breathing heavily as I fell backwards onto my butt. "Holy shit… I think I did it…"
For this chapter, I took some inspiration from Space Viking's "Lit Major Shoots Zombies" when it came to writing Deputy Andy's dialogue. Would any of my older readers tell me how I'm doing with this rewrite? Feedback would be bleeping fantastic.
— N-Rogue