A/N: Here is chapter 10. It is actually the written version of the intro cutscene, two weeks after first infection. Hopefully it is to your liking, and hopefully it is better than my first attempt at it. Enjoy, review, etc.

10: Distant Thunder

The group of four had taken the last ten minutes to regroup, reorganize and rejuvenate. Even in dark times such as these, meeting new people proved to be surprisingly easy. For the most part they all understood each other. They were generally cordial and polite to each other. Even Francis' rudeness provided something to laugh about.

None of them had seen the helicopter for nearly an hour. Some of them were beginning to lose hope, but not Bill: he explained that poor weather was an excuse not to send in a chopper, even a full blown military one. A civilian aircraft would not last a second in a storm. He pointed to the sky and the group saw the first brief flashes of lightning, accompanied by distant thunder.

"We should still head for higher ground though. Maybe we can set up a signal fire," said Zoey

"Yeah, Zoey, it'll be like a bonfire party…and every zombie in this damn city's going to see it! That sounds like a great idea, I'll bring marshmallows and graham crackers if you bring the chocolate!" Francis guffawed.

"You know what I mean," sighed Zoey. But she smiled anyway as memories of camping trips with her family came back to her. Zoey remembered how her younger brother Jake used to set his marshmallows on fire and pretend they were meteors coming into the atmosphere. Her family used to make s'mores while camping. Often, they would invite other nearby campers to join them around the fire and try some of the s'mores. They were delicious. Zoey could almost taste them right now.

She felt her throat tighten up painfully. Zoey pushed the thoughts of her family out of her mind. She breathed deeply and slowly, taking care to think only positive thoughts. When she was younger, she had asthma. Although it was less severe now than it was years ago, it could still hit her at bad times. That was why she had chosen to be a swimmer instead of playing other sports. Her doctor had recommended it, basing his verdict on absolutely nothing, as far as she could remember. But there was certainly merit to his points: she had never sustained an attack while in the water. However, another attack could surface at any time. Zoey didn't have her inhaler; she had left it back at her dormitory. Perhaps they could steal one from a pharmacy if there were any left.

"Hey, I got weapons here!" said Louis. "And ammo too, plenty of it."

The group stopped where Louis was standing. An M4 carbine sat leaning against a wooden crate which was full of ammunition: shotgun shells, pistol and rifle cartridges, enough to start a small war. There was another box next to the crate which held several M9 handguns, like the one that Zoey was carrying.

They spent the next five minutes stocking up on everything they could carry. Bill gave the Uzi back to a very grateful Louis, and grabbed the M4. Zoey grabbed another M9 pistol and attached a tactical flashlight to one of them. She attached some pistol magazine pouches to her belt – they were normally meant for modular vests, but in this situation, they would do just fine. She stuffed whatever ammunition she could into those pouches and into her pockets. As a last resort, Zoey took an extra M9.

There were some dead soldiers nearby, in a fairly advanced state of decomposition. Zoey felt horrible as she relieved one of the dead men of a thigh-mounted pistol holster, which she strapped to her own leg. She profusely whispered apologies. The dead man didn't respond for he was dead.

Louis had discovered a strange contraption on the table: it appeared to be a PVC pipe with what appeared to be a gutted smoke detector and timer crudely glued on. Bill quickly figured it out: it was a pipe bomb, with an electronic detonator.

"You see this here?" said Bill, pointing to a hijacked light switch. "You flip that on and the timer begins. Then you throw it. It's like a grenade, except no pin."

"Whoa," said Zoey. "Can I have that?" Bill handed the bomb to her: Zoey looked at it briefly and put it away in a magazine pouch. She felt slightly more powerful with this explosive device, although it was uncomfortably close to her spinal cord; should it go off on accident, the others would have to bury several pieces.

Soon, they were back on the road. Besides the thunder, all was quiet, although a few times, Louis thought he saw something moving across the rooftops above them. No one else had seen anything, and eventually, Louis decided he must have imagined that whatever was up there.

"You guys remember that one weird ass zombie back there?" Francis said, interrupting the silence.

"Which one?"

"The…you know, the smoking thing. With the tongue."

"Smoking? I don't remember it smoking," said Bill.

"It was. The thing was producing smoke and gas like a retiree at Country Buffet," said Francis, staring at Bill as he said this.

"I just remembered the tongue," said Zoey. "Jesus, it was long." She turned pink as she said this. "Don't say it!"

Francis chuckled and began to make off color jokes about what he would do if he had a long tongue. Louis tried to resist but also chortled slightly. Zoey glared at them.

"You guys are really – "

"Quiet!" Bill interjected, holding up a hand. "I hear something." He shouldered his M4 and turned into an alleyway. A second later, there was a shot and a wet explosion. "Got a boomer! Squad, regroup on me!" The rest went into the alley, which was littered with dozens of corpses, including a pair of legs that was dripping a greenish brown goo where the waist used to be. Bill had never seen anything quite like it.

"Hold up!" he commanded. The others stopped, staring curiously at the half-carcass that was dripping brown slime instead of red blood. Bill knelt down next to the pair of legs and stuck his finger into the slime, which was horrifically warm and gooey, like a pie filling. He rubbed his thumb and forefinger together to feel the consistency. Bill even sniffed it: a vile rotten mix evoking odors of eggs, decomposition and meat.

"I ain't seen anything like this before," he said quietly.

"Jesus, don't let that stop you from smearing it all over yourself," Francis remarked sarcastically. Bill stood up, crossed the short distance between them and rubbed the slime onto Francis' leather biker vest.

"They're changing!" Indeed, this was something new. The Boomer had switched from simply having a bad case of gas to becoming a walking biological bomb. At least, that's what it seemed like. What else could the slime possibly do?

"Goddamn it Bill!" Francis said angrily. He sniffed it and was assailed with the vile stench, worse than the trashiest slum, worse than anything he had ever smelled. "Oh, it stinks!" Louis simply chuckled at the turn of events. He was about to say something when the group heard a strange noise. Everyone stood utterly still and heard it: a long, drawn out wail from a woman. The sound was coming from behind a closed door. There was something haunting about the sound.

"Someone's still alive!" said Zoey. "We have to help her!"

A second later, Bill and Zoey were entering the room, weapons raised. It was pitch black inside this room. Bill motioned for Zoey to turn on her flashlight. She did so, bathing the room with a bright white brilliance that caused her eyes to water. The crying faltered for a second, but continued.

"Hello?" Zoey said to the darkness. "Hello?"

Damn it, kid, shut the fuck up, you'll get us killed! Bill said in his mind. He kept a tight grip on his M4, and quietly deactivated the safety. The crying was causing the hairs on the back of his neck to stand up. Bill couldn't for the life of him understand why. Surely, whatever was in the room was just a traumatized survivor.

"It's okay," Zoey cooed reassuringly to the presence in the darkness. She began to breathe again. There could be nothing wrong here. "It's okay, we're going to get you out of here…" She had raised her pistol enough so that the bright beam of the flashlight started to illuminate the opposite wall.

Bill saw that indeed, it was a woman – though the gray skin said otherwise. Her clothes were mere scraps and her limbs were frighteningly thin. The woman's eyes glowed orange when hit by the light – but it wasn't the eyes that caught Bill's attention. Her fingers had sprouted large claws: deadly looking spikes that could surely rip a man in half with little effort. Bill had seen and analyzed all this in under a half second. A flash of lighting accompanied by thunder briefly lit the entire room, exposing all of them.

"Lights off!" he snarled, grabbing Zoey's arm and yanking it towards the floor. He could feel the girl's arm shaking.

"Please, Bill, let's go!" Zoey squeaked.

…

Francis was conscious of the fact that he was very hungry. He hadn't had anything to eat for several hours. Any food would be good. Francis' eyes looked through the alley and saw the burned out remains of a steakhouse.

I could use a fucking steak right about now, he thought. The prospect of juicy, tender meat with A1 steak sauce was too much. Francis' stomach rumbled audibly so that Louis turned around.

"You're hungry too, huh?"

"I could sure use a steak."

"Me too. And you know what else? I want some fried chicken. Stereotype or not, I love the chicken."

"Hell yeah!" Francis agreed. "Chicken, and you gotta have mashed potatoes."

"You know what I miss most?" said Louis. "Apple pie. I haven't had apple pie in…oh shit." Louis pointed down the alleyway. Francis could see movement, and in seconds he heard the sound of a horde coming their way.

"Oh, shit," Louis muttered. "Shit!" Francis fired a shot from his shotgun into the crowd. It was an utter massacre in the crowded confines of the alley, but even the withering hail of lead was barely enough. Louis dashed into the room where Bill and Zoey were. He had attached a flashlight to his Uzi earlier, which was brightly lit.

"They're coming!" The light on his Uzi bathed the room with brilliance, illuminating Bill and a terrified looking Zoey as well as a monstrously mutated zombie: female, with razor sharp claws like steak knives. The zombie did not look at all pleased to have been intruded upon during her sorrowful solitude. She rose, screeched like a cat and spread her arms.

"Run like hell!" Zoey screamed. She bolted out of the room, followed closely by Bill, who paused to take some shots at the angry zombie. Louis shut the door and braced his body weight against it – whatever had been in there was not going to come out. He held, even as the door dented in several places. It was only when a thin gray arm punched through the door like tissue paper did Louis leave his bracing position: he turned around and fired the Uzi on full automatic through the hole in the door.

Without the help of Louis' automatic gunfire, the crowd of zombies was getting too close for comfort. Even the devastating cyclone of buckshot from Francis' weapon was limited, for soon, he had to reload. Only Zoey was left firing while Bill and Francis loaded their weapons. And she too eventually ran out of ammo.

The horde rushed in: Francis beat one back with the butt of his shotgun as he reloaded, while Bill fought in close quarters using a stolen Ka-Bar knife. Zoey tossed her pistols aside and resorted to krav maga. She had taken lessons for the Israeli hand-to-hand combat system, more out of curiosity than anything else. It also had uses in dealing with zombies, apparently.

"DO YOU LIKE THAT!" Louis roared as he fired the last shot. It was just in time too: the quickly stopped flailing and fell as limp as a dead snake. He reloaded and turned back to other three, who were locked in close combat.

"Stick together!" Francis called to Louis, who nodded and rejoined the group, dispersing the immediate crowd with a long burst from his Uzi.

As the fighting raged on, Bill smelled something horrible: a noxiously suffocating stench that burned his nostrils. It was an odor like acrid smoke from a chemical fire. But it wasn't just the smell. He heard a dreadful shriek, like a scream from a man who had smoked too much. The very sound of it brought up images of a horribly mangled throat cavity. Bill turned around, but felt something wrap around his body and squeeze hard. In half a second he was yanked clear off the ground. He tried to shout, to say something, but he couldn't draw breath to speak.

It was fortunate that Francis had noticed Bill disappear from his peripheral vision. He turned around and saw Bill struggling feebly and the monster with the long tongue standing on a staircase. Without a second's hesitation, Francis chambered a round into his shotgun and fired once, shredding the creature's head in an instant. There was a raspy gasp accompanied by a pop and a large cloud of acrid smoke. Bill plopped back to the ground. A pair of zombies was running towards him.

Francis shrugged and fired again, destroying the first zombie. He swiveled and took out the second, splattering blood all over the place. Francis didn't even blink as he did this.

"Merry Christmas," he said sarcastically to Bill as the old man got to his feet.

"Thanks, Francis," Bill replied, grabbing his M4 and rejoining the fray. They were running low on ammo now, and the horde didn't seem to be relenting. Sooner or later, they would be overwhelmed.

Zoey was in a world of hurt. She had managed to reload both her pistols, but several zombies had grabbed her arms and were punching her viciously. Her vision was slowly blurring as the hits continued. She couldn't fight against the strength of nearly six zombies.

"Leave her alone!" Louis had noticed and was now roughly shoving the zombies away from Zoey. In such close quarters he dared not fire any bullets, lest he hit Zoey. It took only seconds for Louis to shove the zombies off of Zoey. To her, it felt like hours. Inevitably, the hits stopped – Zoey stumbled away from the wall, winded and bruised, but otherwise, in perfect fighting condition.

"Thanks Louis, I owe you," she said. Zoey reached around to the back of her waist and found what she was looking for: a thin PVC tube about eight inches long, with strange electronics and a switch to turn it all on.

"Oh, shit, you're not going to throw that, are you?" Louis said worriedly.

"Do it, Zoey, now!" Francis shouted. Zoey nodded and turned towards the oncoming horde. Her face was one of angry resolve.

Let's finish this, she said to herself. Zoey flipped the switch: the electronics beeped and emitted a bright red flash like a camera. She drew her arm back to throw the bomb, knowing that it could explode at any second, killing her and everyone around. Zoey shouted a warning and threw it with all her strength – the zombies in the horde paused briefly to gawk at the beeping, blinking object that had entered the fray. They forgot the warm fresh meat of the survivors entirely and instead ran after the bomb, like hungry dogs attracted to meat.

Suddenly, everyone was scrambling for cover. Zoey was counting the seconds in her head, but by then, the bomb exploded, bathing the entire alley with fiery warmth and blood. An arm landed in her lap; she grabbed it and tossed it away. Their ears were ringing, but they all knew that the horde had been stopped.

They had scarcely caught their breaths when the sound of thumping rotor blades drew close. A news helicopter flew over, scanning the area with a spotlight. It was flying so low that the downdraft from the rotor blades felt like a hurricane. Louis could taste the sweet flavor of rescue.

"Hey! Down here!" he called to the chopper. Without even thinking he began to run back out of the alley. "We're not infected, down here!"

"Louis, you dipshit, get your ass back over here!" Francis called to no avail. He looked up and saw the silhouette of a hooded figure – unmistakably humanoid, but impossibly agile, able to leap from roof to roof. Its behavior was consistent with a predator: stalking…hunting…killing.

"Oh god no…Louis!" Zoey cried out. She also took off running. Francis called her back, but it was no use.

"Fuck, no one listens to me," he grumbled. "Come on, Bill, let's go!"

…

Louis slowed down in the middle of the street as he watched the helicopter fly off. Evidently, it had not seen him. He cursed angrily at it, but suddenly felt an odd chill in his body. Louis had the sensation that he was being watched – as the sounds of the helicopter faded, he heard a catlike shriek. It reminded him of some predatory hunting animal, like a mountain lion or even a tiger. Instinct told him to move, but it came too late. Suddenly, he was on the ground, being straddled by a hooded zombie that was evidently not one of the normal ones.

"Whoa, shit!" he screamed in terror as he stared up into a bloody gray face and grotesquely long, sharp teeth. This was some mutation; already they had seen the Boomers, with their voluminous explosive bodies, and those toxic zombies with the really long tongues – smokers? He thought that was an appropriate name, certainly more concise than "those guys with the long tongues." And now this thing that was beating him to death. He had no idea what to call it.

Louis could barely muster the strength to fight back; he simply let the thing attack him as he gave up. Already, the pain was fading as the thing beat the life out of him. He was only slightly aware that the creature's hands had grown claws, which would tear him to ribbons. He welcomed the end as the claws swooped down.

…

Zoey had seen all this happen and was sprinting as fast as she could. She felt her chest tightening and her throat closing, the earliest signs of an asthma attack, one that she had not had in years. Zoey willed herself to focus on what was most important: saving Louis. She barreled into the creature that was about to kill Louis, moving so fast that she resembled a pink blur. Zoey tackled the stunned zombie into the car and drew back slightly, firing both her pistols in rapid succession.

Louis came back to reality and drew his own pistol. If Zoey's 9mm pistols were strong, then Louis' PX4 Storm, chambered in .40 S&W, was even stronger by comparison. He only needed to fire once to kill the creature, but for good measure, he fired three times total, sending it sprawling into a car. He had not counted on the car being alarmed. A shrill siren activated: the sound was liable to draw the attention of every single zombie in the area. The resulting collective shriek from hundreds of zombies confirmed that was exactly what happened.

"Oh, this is going to get bad," said Bill as he joined the group. "Let's go!"

They ran for all they were worth, but it was a lost cause: there was no way that they could fight so many zombies. The four of them formed a tight cluster, each covering a sector. The sounds of angry zombies grew louder.

"Fuck," said Louis. "Shit!"

"It ain't any use cursing, Louis," said Bill. "Just remember, cover your sector."

"We're going to die, right?" asked Zoey plaintively. Everyone's eyes were now fixed upon Bill.

"Yes, we probably are. If you want to go out quickly, now's as good a time as any if you still have ammo." But none of them turned the guns on themselves – they simply went back to covering the sectors, ready for whatever came at them. The first of the zombies were now visible.

"Come and…whoa." Francis noticed something odd: a larger shape moving among the crowd of zombies, barreling through them like a tank. He squinted through the smoke and dust and indeed, it could have been a main battle tank. Perhaps…

"The military's here, they've got a tank!" Francis shouted happily. He had always hated the military, until now. Sure, they were an incompetent, overly patriotic organization that deceived kids, but then again, no other organization could provide a tank, a seventy-ton hulk of armor and gun.

"You dolt, that's not a tank, that's a big zombie!" replied Zoey. They heard a massive roar – animal, yet strangely human at the same time. Francis was reminded of the big guys in the gym that grunted while lifting. It bothered him to no end – wasn't being surrounded by sweaty men enough?

The screech of metal – a mangled car was thrown into the air, clearly showing the silhouette of what appeared to be an extraordinarily massive Arnold Schwarzenegger zombie. This was the tank that Francis had seen, and while it did not remotely resemble an armored vehicle, it certainly acted like one, indiscriminately killing the lesser zombies in its path.

The group cringed collectively as the car hit the road and rolled through the crowd behind them. It actually managed to clear a path to safety. The four survivors began to move in that direction.

"Run or shoot?" asked Louis, eyeing the zombie tank that came to them. When he received no response, he shouted his query. "RUN OR SHOOT?!"

"Both!" And so they did, running and shooting for life. They managed to escape through the crowd of zombies, but the tank was still an issue – a very big issue that would be extremely difficult to deal with. The survivors retreated into another alley, hoping the tank would not notice. But, of course, the tank did notice – it chased them down the alley, roaring all the way, pausing only to smash its smaller, less well muscled brethren. Louis pointed to a fire escape ladder.

"Get to the roof!" he yelled. Zoey wasted no time in being the first on the ladder. Louis was right at her heels.

Francis and Bill stood ready to cover Louis and Zoey's escape. The tank rounded the corner. Immediately, Francis fired, watching the buckshot penetrate the flesh of the monster. But it was no use: the tank simply flung a writhing zombie towards Francis. It collided and knocked him flat. The tank went for the downed Francis, raising television sized fists to crush him to death.

Bill had other ideas: he fired the remainder of his ammunition into the tank. It afforded just the distraction he needed. The tank ignored Francis and swung at Bill instead, burying its fists into a brick wall. Francis took this opportunity to go up the ladder. The tank was thoroughly annoyed now. It ripped its arms out of the wall and hurled a concrete block at Louis, who was towards the top of the ladder. The structure began to falter with a metallic groan.

Bill knew he had only seconds. He turned around but found himself face-to-face with a zombie. Time slowed; he knew that his end had come, because there was no way he could raise his weapon in time. But he didn't need to: the distinctive pop of an M9, and the zombie's head exploded. Bill looked up stupidly and saw Zoey on the middle level of the fire escape with her pistols firing.

"Go, I'll hold them off!" she commanded. Bill wasted no time in scurrying up the ladder. He passed her and clapped her on the shoulder.

"End of the line, let's go, Zoey!" Zoey stayed put a little longer, firing round after round into the face of the tank, which was now climbing after them, destabilizing the fire escape structure. Eventually she decided that enough was enough. She went back for the ladder, but by now, the structure was hanging by a few screws. Zoey lost her balance and dropped one of her pistols. She scrambled as fast as she could, feeling the hot breath of the tank behind her. For a momentary second it even grabbed her ankle, but failed to maintain the grip.

"Come on, Zoey, move!" Louis encouraged. But it was too late – the structure collapsed entirely. Zoey simply jumped towards the sky. Her fingers had missed the edge by over a foot: suddenly, she realized she was going to die. The person closest to her was Francis, she screamed his name in desperation. Zoey felt his reassuringly warm hand wrap around hers, felt the shock of falling only to be stopped by her resilient shoulder joint. Meanwhile, the tank landed on its back, and the broken fire escape landed on the tank's head, crushing it like a potato chip.

It took a few seconds for everyone to realize that all of them were alive and relatively unhurt.

"We made it…I…I can't believe we made it!" Louis was actually laughing now. Even Zoey managed a smile, while Francis maintained his surly look.

"Son, we just crossed the street," replied Bill, who had begun smoking another cigarette. He took the longest drag he could and exhaled. "Let's not throw a party till we're out of the city, shall we?" In the distance, the four survivors could see the lights of a helicopter as it hovered near the roof of a tall building. Zoey recognized it at once.

"That's Mercy Hospital," she said. Zoey took a few deep breaths. "Maybe they're…evacuating…" She coughed and began wheezing slightly. Her expression turned into one of abject shock and horror.

"Zoey? What's going on?" asked Bill.

"Ugh…I had asthma…as a kid…I need…inhaler…we need to find…pharmacy…anything!" She leaned back against the wall and sank to the ground, clutching her throat.

"Zoey, try not to talk, just wait here!" said Louis. "This is an apartment, I'll check a medicine cabinet or something, just hold on!" Without delay he took off running towards the entrance to the apartment complex.

"Aw, shit," said Bill, standing up and tossing aside his cigarette. "Francis, watch over her, I'm going with him. Try and keep her calm."

"Fuck, how do I do that?"

"Figure it out!" Bill snapped as he went into the apartment after Louis. Francis shook his head and looked at Zoey, who was still wheezing and leaning against the wall. He felt like a fool, but Francis helped Zoey into a more comfortable position so that her head rested in his lap. He squeezed her hand.

"You'll be fine, I'm sure they'll find something." Zoey simply nodded.

It began to rain – hard. At this point, there was little else that Francis could do besides carry Zoey into the entrance. It was a simple stairwell, but at least it was warm and dry. Francis listened, but couldn't hear anything but the rain and Zoey's wheezing. He heard no gunshots from inside the apartment. That had to be a good thing, at least if it meant that there were no zombies. Louis and Bill would have an easier time finding an inhaler for Zoey. Or, in a more grim scenario, they could already be dead.