Part II
Resistance
William... time to wake up, dear... You'll be late for school...
Azure eyes snapped open, struggling with the utmost desperation to combat the nebulous haze that clouded them. How long had he been lying there, unconscious?
"My leg! Oh, God!"
The sound penetrated the shrill ringing in the soldier's ears as his feet found their place on the solid ground beneath him. The M-16, an extension of his own arm, rose to attention and he shifted his beret back to the spot above his ivory locks in which it molded most perfectly.
Man down, Overbeck! Man down!
The soldier placed one booted foot in front of the other as he staggered across the bridge in a frenzied, limping cadence.
One! Two! Three! Four! Hut! Two! Three! Four!
He knelt down next to his injured companion, wishing that he was stronger- younger- as he struggled to lift the man up.
"I've got him, old man! Just keep moving!" One who was in possession of both qualities the soldier longed for, brushed him aside and hoisted the injured man over his broad shoulders. He carried him the rest of the way across the bridge, towards the city's power grid. A power outage had sent half the city plummeting into darkness, and the thick clouds above choked out any hope of moonlight cutting through the gloomy night.
Bill clutched his chest as he watched Francis carry Louis. The old man had felt a chilling numbness spread across his left arm, knowing full well what that entailed, and as he removed his hand, he could feel the adhesive cling of his shirt against the flesh beneath. Looking down, Bill was shocked at just how red the beige material had become. He quickly zipped up his jacket as Zoey ran up behind him, motioning frantically for him to keep up the pace with Francis.
"Come on, Bill! Come on!" The girl grabbed him by the arm.
Bill turned his head as they scrambled across the bridge, witnessing the truly massive number of infected rushing in waves from the center of the quaint town of Rayford- a town whose population had recently exploded in preparation for some sort of celebratory event.
A dull rumble caused his grip on Zoey's arm to loosen as he commanded his legs to continue moving, the infected surging closer with his every faulty stride. Streams of gunfire cut through the swiftest zombies around them from Louis's assault rifle as the young man lay on the ground further ahead where Francis had placed him. Bill's eyes widened as the biker suddenly appeared next to him and shoved him forcefully to the side.
"Francis what in the hell-"
But Francis could not hear Bill's annoyed response, for the Charger that had the old soldier in it's sights plucked the younger man from the spot where he had stood an instant before.
"Shit!" Louis repositioned himself onto his stomach to aim at the fleet footed Charger, ceasing his protective cover fire on Bill and Zoey. As the girl and the old man readied their weapons, they quickly became enveloped within a sizable portion of the horde.
A thunderous roar could be heard from within the town on the other end of the bridge, accompanied by the grating sound of crushed metal as cars became airborne.
Louis's heart never pounded more furiously as he took aim and fired at the Charger's rapidly diminishing form. The beast, with Francis sprawled across the immensity of its arm, would careen into a stone dividing wall in moments. Most of Louis's bullets struck the monster's back, but several managed to bury themselves within the base of its skull. The Charger's legs suddenly froze, sending it toppling to the ground. Loosened from its grip, Francis tumbled horribly like a ragdoll. The back of his head slammed into the pavement when he finally came to a stop. Louis scrambled frantically across the ground towards Francis, but stopped and stared wide eyed as the biker leapt to his feet and proceeded to run towards him and the others.
Every time Zoey and Bill were forced to reload, several of the infected managed to strike at them. Despite the beating she was taking, the girl twisted her body at an uncomfortable angle to destroy a zombie that had come dangerously close to Bill's face as the old man shoved a replacement cartridge into his weapon with shaky hands.
The nerd with the popular girl good looks, Zoey had always displayed a jaded attitude that belied her nineteen years. Unsatisfied with the conventional interests of a girl her age, Zoey had spent her young life wanting something more. Once she was thrust into a living manifestation of her horror flick obsession, the girl had adjusted well- perhaps a bit too well. Zoey had never allowed the zombies, or the fact that she was constantly surrounded by a trio of guys, intimidate her. Recently however, she had discovered a crack in her armor and began to harbor doubts about herself and the three men whom she had grown to care for as much, if not more than her boyfriend, brother, and father- respectively.
Zoey cringed when Bill grunted in pain, and wasn't sure whether his back was leaning forcefully against hers as a form of comforting reassurance, or because the old man physically required her support to remain standing. The girl bit her lip worriedly when she realized it was the latter.
"Stay with me, Zoey..."
Francis only took several strides before the severity of his head wound caught up to him, and he crumpled to the ground- his head spinning. Louis redoubled his efforts when Francis stopped struggling to rise and lay motionless.
Lurking within one of the top floors of an adjacent building, a Boomer watched the skirmish taking place below it. The bloated, gluttonous beast pressed its thick, eager fingers against the glass of the window as it leaned its enormous berth against the smooth surface. The strain of its weight was far too much for the window to support and the creature broke through the glass, drenching Louis and Francis in a tidal wave of bile as it burst from the impact of its fall.
Completely covered in the Boomer's foul excretions, Louis pummeled the ground with his elbows and forearms as he closed the distance between himself and the unconscious Francis. With his injured, useless leg dragging behind him, the white-collar office worker pondered the utter mess that his life had been reduced to. Due to his background, Louis had numerous doors slammed in his face, and he had struggled through the muck on his way up the ladder of success to make it to where he was. The only thing that had kept him going then was the same thing that kept him going now as he crawled through a literal muck of bile- an undying positivity that neither man nor rabid beast could take away from him.
Louis didn't think about how he intended to stave off the horde of monsters that had wrenched themselves from Bill and Zoey in favor of Francis and himself. His only thought was about actually reaching Francis. The man who he had formerly hated, was now a friend that he trusted with his life. He had always vehemently believed that as long as he and his three companions stuck together, everything would be alright. But that is not to say that Louis was naive. He knew death was always around the corner, but so long as they died together, everything would still be alright.
As he waited for Bill and Zoey to reach them, Louis quickly wiped the bile away from Francis's nose, allowing the biker to breathe. He then crawled on top of Francis, using his own body as a shield to protect the helpless biker as the horde descended upon them. Somehow, Louis found the strength to lift his rifle amidst the chaos.
"Come on, Francis, stay with me..."
From the moment of its creation, a hulking behemoth had lumbered about, deep within the city of Rayford, dazed and lost. Now, with the scent of blood emerging from the veins of untainted flesh on the other end of the bridge, the Tank had found a purpose- a reason to exist. Filled with a frenzied bloodlust, the beast proceeded to rampage towards the waterfront with a massive legion of its lesser brethren trailing in its wake.
Zoey pierced through the lines of infected surrounding her two immobile friends with the unmitigated power of her hunting rifle. By the time she reached Louis, who had been firing from within the wall of zombies, the man was littered with cuts and bruises. He smiled up weakly at her, his strength sapped by the Boomer bile leaching into his bloodstream.
Winded from his exertion on the bridge, Bill observed the ominous generator room that loomed before them as the howls of another horde, and the increasing tremors of the earth, rattled his bones. If they could just raise the bridge...stem the tide...
Bill was shaken from his thoughts at the sight of Zoey struggling to drag her fellow companions away from their exposed position in the middle of the street. Bill rushed to her aid, grabbing the much heavier Francis and hauling him with concerted effort towards a cage lift. Zoey followed closely behind him, dragging Louis who helped her by pushing himself along with his good leg. Once all four of them were inside the inoperable lift, Bill turned to Zoey, his eyes full of resolve.
"Stay here!" He commanded.
"What are you talking about?" Zoey's eyes widened.
"I'm gonna try to turn the power back on and raise the bridge! There are too many of those bastards on the other end of it!"
As if to punctuate Bill's words, the Tank that had finally reached the bridge, let out a murderous roar.
A Jockey suddenly latched onto Bill, pulling him away from Zoey, but the girl was able to shoot it off before it could lead him too far. The second wave of zombies made it across the bridge and began flowing in all directions, separating the old man from the rest of the group.
"Just stay where you are, Zoey!" Bill shouted as he powered up the generator and began retreating into the engine room as the zombies surrounded him. The noise of the machine as it began to build up power sent all of the nearby infected into a frenzy.
"Bill, wait! Let me help you!" Zoey cried out, but the cage lift was now equally surrounded on both sides by the zombies, "You can't do this to me!"
For several moments, nothing but the screams of the infected and Bill's frenzied rifle fire could be heard, until the hardened war veteran shouted from the depths of the engine room at the top of his lungs, pouring everything that remained within him into his words.
"I know this isn't much of a life, Kiddo...living this way! But I'll be God damned if I live to see the day these bastards take it away from you! From any of you!"
Zoey couldn't breathe. Her lungs seized up and her entire body began to shake. It had been a long time since the girl had last cried, but now, tears cascaded down her cheeks.
With Louis injured, and Francis out of commission, Zoey couldn't have joined Bill if she tried, and the girl was now doing everything in her power to suppress her anger and sorrow in order to protect her fallen teammates.
The shrill wheezing of a Spitter could just barely be heard above the roaring din, and the stilted, ostrich-like beast reared its head back as it aimed straight for the cage lift. Zoey tried to aim for the Spitter, but was unable to break away from the zombies immediately in front of her. Louis screamed when the zombies began trampling his wounded leg as they clamored inside the cage lift. The chaotic noise roused Francis from his stupor and the biker darted his eyes about in confusion. Zoey braced herself as the ball of acid shot through the air towards the three of them like a glowing meteor.
Every Witch in Rayford simultaneously split the air with the severity of their terrified screams when all of the lights in the city suddenly turned on, cutting through the darkness like a blazing beacon.
Both the bridge and the cage lift began to rise.
The ball of goo passed harmlessly beneath the lift as Zoey and Louis destroyed the zombies that had made it inside. The girl looked down at the ground in terror when the remaining infected turned their attention towards the engine room where Bill had been forced to retreat.
On the other side of the river, the Tank made a bounding leap through the air and managed to latch onto the bridge as it rose steadily. The rest of the infected trailing behind it continued to run right into the water, drowning almost instantly in the murky depths.
Although Bill's hope for survival couldn't have been more grim as he waded neck deep in the sea of infected that rushed through the door frame of the engine room, the old man couldn't have been more pleased when the generator finally produced enough power to raise the bridge and the lift. He also couldn't have been more pissed off when the power was suddenly cut out again.
"Son of a fucking bitch!"
The generator had used up what little fuel was in its tank, and the cage lift lurched to a halt mid-way through its ascent.
"Bill! What the fuck do you think you're doing, old man? Get your ass over here!" Francis had recovered enough to regain his senses and was now fuming with rage. The lift had risen enough that the biker had to lay on his stomach to peek his head through the small gap between the brick wall of the building and the floor of the cage lift.
The Tank had made it half way across the bridge.
Bill ignored Francis and headed slowly towards the fuse boxes on the wall to his right, the infected striking him all the while. Although Bill was no electrician, he was enough of a do-it-yourself-er to figure out which switch controlled the cage lift. All he needed was some damn breathing room.
God damn you, Bill!" Neither Zoey nor Louis dared to calm Francis down as he thrashed around in the lift, suspended and trapped within it. He wrenched Louis's rifle from the man's hands, threw himself onto the floor of the lift, and shoved the weapon through the narrow opening. He began firing haphazardly into the incessant horde as they continued to funnel through the doorway in their vicious assault on Bill until the rifle ran out of ammo.
"What the fuck was he thinking?" Francis roared at Zoey, "And you let him go in there by himself!" He grabbed her by the jacket and pinned her with unexpected force into the metal door of the lift.
"Francis, knock it off!" Louis shouted, but he was too weak to defend the girl from the biker's rage.
Zoey shoved the butt of her rifle into Francis's stomach, causing him to release her as he doubled over.
"Francis, you-"
Zoey was cut off by the rumbling of the Tank as it neared the end of the bridge. The creature's roars sent Francis further out of control.
"I'm gonna kill you myself, Old Man! I SWEAR TO GOD!" Francis hurled himself into the lift's metal, wire-framed door.
The biker had held little regard for much of anything besides his fellow Hell's Legion members, his motorcycle, and his leather vest. He also held a sense of honor and pride for past actions that were anything but honorable as a member of the infamously ruthless gang. In truth, he had joined the Legion to fill the loneliness in his heart left by an alcoholic father who walked out on him and his mom when he was a boy. Fueled by insecurities, the biker elevated himself in his mind and eventually believed he was too good to even like anything or anyone. However, his heart had softened upon meeting his new companions, and he simply could not handle the thought of losing the new father figure in his life. Not like this.
The Tank averted its soulless eyes to ground as it spotted a tiny, human form struggling to survive within the cramped confines of the engine room.
"I AM NOT-" Again Francis hurled himself into the door, sweat and blood streaming down his face from a ruptured vessel in his forehead.
Bill managed to open one of the fuse boxes before the horde pinned him dangerously against a hydraulic turbine.
The earth shook as the Tank leapt off the raised bridge and landed on the street.
"GONNA LET YOU-" The cage lift lurched from the impact of Francis's body, but the biker was simply unable to produce enough momentum within the tiny space to break through. Zoey tearfully curled up in a corner, if only to give Francis the space to deal with his emotions the only way the man knew how.
Bill kicked and swung his rifle wildly, beating the infected back as he reached desperately for the switch to power the lift, lest his team be indefinitely trapped within it.
"LEAVE ME-" Warped metal pierced into and shredded the flesh of Francis's bicep, ruining portions of the intricate tatoos adorning it. Bitter tears streamed down the vertical creases in his cheeks.
Rather than maneuvering around or climbing over the chain link fence that lined the perimeter of the generator room, the Tank simply annihilated it as it crashed through the structure. The beast began destroying the remaining zombies in its path, their bodies shooting through the sky as it hurled them about.
"THE WAY HE DID!" With his last ounce of strength Francis slammed his body into the now distorted metal door for the final time. The cruel, unyielding steel absorbed and redistributed the force of the impact back into him. He crumpled to the floor and became silent as he looked down at Bill through the pathetically small space afforded to him.
Bill looked out through the door frame of the entrance to the generator room, and was able to just see the top of a closely shaved head with a pronounced widow's peak and a pair of eyes full of every possible emotion peering down at him from the cage lift. They belonged to the one member of his team whose reckless actions once caused no end to the soldier's grief- The one whose abrasive personality once clashed so fervently with his own- The one whose pervasive negativity had once pressed upon his every nerve- The one whose obstinate stubbornness and newly found reverence prevented the man from looking away from Bill's final act of heroism.
The soldier flipped the switch and the lift began to rise once more.
At roughly five feet, eight inches in height, Bill had always wished that he were a taller man. It would have made his time in the service a little easier. Although he was now dwarfed by the immensity of the Tank in front of him, Bill never stood taller than in that moment.
Bill had mouthed off to his superiors in boot camp, and occasionally disobeyed orders while on the field. But now, as he shouted profanities into the Tank's face, he was never more defiant than in that moment.
William...Time for bed, dear...
The old man closed his weary eyes as the Tank reared up- its lethal arms held high.
The first time Bill took up his gun, it was to serve his country.
The second time Bill took up his gun, it was to protect himself.
And now, as Bill took up his gun for the final time, he did it only to both serve and protect the three souls whom he cherished above all others.
Bill opened his eyes. Although the Tank came down on him like an inexorable mountain, to wrench his fragile life from the face of the earth-
Bill never felt more alive than in that moment.
US 1st Special Forces Private- William Overbeck lay cradled and secure in a pair of tatooed arms as anguished tears dripped onto his motionless face.
The last to pay his respects, the biker placed Bill gently on the ground. He removed the cigarette from the old man's mouth, placed it in the pocket of his jeans, and stepped towards the bridge, barely acknowledging the words that cut through the bitter night.
"Francis! I can see a car on the other side!"
The biker turned towards the fallen soldier once more. It felt so wrong to just leave him there. So wrong.
"I...I love you, old man..." Francis sniffed, a small smile forming on his quivering lips, "And I'm gonna...I'm gonna kick your ass for doing this...the next time we meet..."