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The humvee jerked as it crunched over the fallen bodies and followed the truck in front. Guys hung out of its windows, firing at the rush of zombies making their way to the line of vehicles. The gunfire was almost deafening, but above the roar of the guns, Rich could hear the whoops of the men firing them.
This was all just a sick little game to them, wasn't it?
Zombies spilled from houses on both sides of the town, and these guys made it look like just another day in the life. Rich closed his eyes so he didn't have to see the carnage and shivered. At least these guys were good. Not one zombie made it across the line of fire.
But still, knowing that the people who had "saved" them weren't the best kind of people in the world put a damper on the feeling of security. Someone put a hand on Rich's shoulder and he opened his eyes. Lauren stared at him, lips quivering and face pale white.
"We were going to go through here, Rich," she said quietly, almost inaudible over the gunfire.
"We wouldn't have made it. Those zombies back there, they were nothing."
He nodded and grabbed her hand. It was cold and clammy. Alan huddled beside him, complaining about his wound and not wanting to look outside. Rich heard Dallas shout something, but he couldn't tell what. "What was that, sir?" He asked. Dallas turned around and smirked.
"You think you can handle this, grandpa?" Then he went back to lodging bullets in the skulls of zombies.
No, he didn't think he could handle it. But he had to.
There was no telling what these people would do if you weren't able to work for them. Rich supposed that's why they'd picked the three of them up, anyway. He shifted his attentions to the right side of the vehicle. They weren't doing so well on this side. There were more zombies, for one. And for another thing, something that looked like a huge skinned mountain lion was prowling around. It held something in its jaws.
Lauren gasped as she followed his gaze. "Rich, do you know what's in its mouth?" She cried.
He didn't.
"That's a little boy, Rich. It's got a kid in its teeth."
It was true, a limp, small body hung from its maw. He could make out a little hand. He turned away and tried not to vomit. Then he looked up at the driver. The old, shirtless man was having the time of his life, or so it seemed. He was crushing fallen bodies and whooping with the rest of them.
"Sir, when are we going to be out of this town?" He asked, slightly woozy. The driver didn't take his eyes off of the road, but said, "Well, at the rate we're goin', maybe never!"
He laughed an insane laugh, saw the disgust in Rich's eyes, and said, "Just pullin' yer leg. By the way, the name's Dwight. "
He stopped laughing and went back to seriously driving. Rich leaned away and tried to get the sickening feeling out of his stomach. It didn't help that the vehicle jerked and rocked every other second, giving him the feeling of being on a ship in a fierce storm. Just when he thought he was about to hurl, one of the men started screaming.
"On the right, damn it! Everyone on the right!" Rich had to duck out of the way or else get trampled by the guys moving to the other side of the vehicle.
Before they could even get their guns out the windows, the hummer lurched. Suddenly, the two wheels on the right were in the air, and all of the men slid back, followed by Rich, Lauren, and a bleeding Alan, piled on top of one another.
"What the hell is this?" Alan croaked as one of the soldiers elbowed him in his wounded shoulder.
The truck behind theirs skidded to a halt, but not before crashing into them. "Oh, shit. What is that thing?" Dwight said in an exasperated voice. The hummer slammed down onto the ground again, and now they could fully see what the problem was.
A thing, maybe it was human once, stood right next to the hummer.
The bottom half, the legs, were exposed bones, muscles, and veins. The top half looked like something out of a freak show. A grey mass had formed above the waist, giving it a sort of rhinoceros look. Its arms looked like a body builders, except what used to be muscle was now a grey-blue grisly substance.
The head, if it ever head one, was totally engulfed in a cancerous mass double the size of a watermelon. Rich could make out small holes where the eyes, nose, and mouth should have been, but any other evidence of a head was lost in the pulsating, quivering flesh.
It looked like a growth, a huge tumor.
A huge, foul smelling, raging tumor.
The thing was probably blind, perhaps deaf, but it didn't make the fifteen foot monster any more frightening. It let out a loud, gurgling roar, a raspy sound coming from rotted vocal cords.
"Get the fuck out of the car!" screamed Dwight, who was already halfway out before the blink of an eye.
The soldiers all screamed and were crawling over one another, trampling Alan, Rich, and Lauren in the process. There were still zombies, a lot of them, on the left, but anything seemed better than the giant before them.
Alan cried out as his wound leaked blood. Rich picked up the teenager and, not very gently, pushed him out of the hummer.
"Go!" He said above the roars.
Lauren screamed as the vehicle started to rock, and Rich helped her out too. Now he was the only one left in the car. He saw them, running away, glancing back toward the hummer with looks of horror on their faces, and then the roof of the vehicle caved in when giant, meaty fists plowed down.
He was knocked to the floor, with little room now, and no way out of the hummer. It had been smashed in. Shattered glass from the windows littered the floor, and he could feel a shard in his palm. But all the while, all he could think about was the smell.
The horrible, stinking smell of decay.
The car jerked, shook on its axels, metal scraping against metal.
Screaming. Gunshots.
Then his world flipped upside down.
Literally.
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Alan was gasping and tired, and his shoulder hurt like hell, but he ignored it.
He ran for his life, ran away from that giant monster. He looked back to see if Lauren was still behind him.
Yes.
He frantically searched for Rich. Where was he?
Alan stopped running and waited for Lauren. The soldiers around him were given orders to continue killing the zombies, and other guys, all dressed in black and grey, were dragging big, bulky guns out of the remaining vehicles. When Lauren caught up, her face was wet.
"Rich is still in the car!" She managed to gasp before she broke down and sobbed.
"What?" He felt like he needed to say something, something more, but words were lost to him. He'd never experienced something like this. Rich was stuck in a hummer; being pounded and beaten by god knows what. He'd risked his life to help them out of it, and they were standing around gaping.
A man dressed in grey camouflage ran past them, shouting, "Get the fuck out of the way, or do something!" That snapped Alan out of his daze.
"We have to get Rich out of there, Lauren."
She stopped crying and looked up at him with red, puffy eyes. "What can we do, Alan? Just go up and say, "Hey, our friend is in there, would you mind not doing that?" Look at that thing, Alan. Look at it."
He was looking at it, and what he was seeing was pure, unadulterated, concentrated rage. It started to rain as the soldiers started to open fire. The loud noise seemed to piss it off more, though.
It grabbed the hummer (how, he didn't know; there weren't really any fingers) and pushed it.
Rocked it.
Rock a bye baby, on the tree top…Then, it backed up, and slammed into the hummer full force.
When the wind blows the cradle will rock… The metal screeched in protest, glass shattered.
When the bough breaks the cradle will fall… The vehicle tipped, hung momentarily on two wheels in the air, then flipped all the way over.
And down will come baby, cradle and all... The monster roared again and stepped on top of the fallen automobile. It crunched under its girth.
Gunshots rang out.
The bullets tore through the rotting, fatty flesh, but the monster seemed to be just getting started. It leapt off of the car and landed heavily in a puddle of mud. It charged at the line of soldiers, the source of noise. Ran toward Alan and Lauren.
"Come on!" He grabbed her arm and took off running, away from the beast and away from the soldiers. Lauren was slowing down, looking over her shoulder, as tears and rain ran down her cheeks.
"Don't look back! Keep running!" Alan screamed as droplets pelted his face. He and Lauren did not look back as they heard men screaming, the creature screaming, bullets, or crashes. He didn't even know where he was running to.
He just ran. Somehow, they weaved and ducked away from the zombies who were still intent on making a meal out of them. And still, over the sounds of people dying, they did not look back. They had almost made it to the forest, to the now comforting line of tall, dark trees, when a single gunshot, louder than the ones in the distance, rang out. "Where do you think you're going?" Alan stopped running and turned around. The man with the smile of razors stood there, soaked in his all-black uniform, gun raised and pointing at them
. Behind him, a man who Alan had met before. A man he wished wasn't there.
Rick.
The guy that wanted to kill him for no reason, a guy even more sinister looking than razor-smile. He was wearing, almost spitefully, a dark brown suit that was neat and spotless. He stood under a black umbrella to the right of them, looking smug and cynical.
"We meet again. What a shame that we had to meet in such…. horrible situations. Forgive me about earlier, just doing the job." He waved his hand, as if dismissing the fact that he'd almost murdered Alan in the streets.
"Given the current situation, I think it would be best if we left the fighting to the soldiers and went home, hm?" It was an invitation, but not for Alan. He gazed at Lauren with a look of great satisfaction in his eyes. She gave him a dirty look and averted her gaze.
"Today must have been a long one, no doubt. And to think my soldiers stuck such a delicate woman in a vehicle filled with high-strung, tense men. Tsk tsk. I'll have a talk with them, but later. Come with me, you two. Today we ride in comfort. " He said all of this, calmly, putting on a cheery façade, while behind him the grey monster overturned more vehicles and laid siege to whatever was in its path.
The man with the razor-smiled grinned, turned away, and followed Rick to a big, black truck. The wind-shield wipers were working furiously to fling the pouring rain off.
They piled into the vehicle, and sat down on leather seats, while Rick went around and sat in the front. He closed his door and opened the glove-compartment, rifled through things, and pulled out a box.
"Cigar, anyone?" he said through a white-toothed grin.
Alan didn't say anything, and Lauren was shivering and probably crying again. The razor-smile man nodded and grabbed a big fat cigar and lit up right in the truck. Then, the driver started it and they were cruising casually away from the slaughter behind, followed only by three other trucks.
Alan nervously shifted next to razor-man, who was puffing away and letting the smoke gather around Alan. The aroma was over-bearing, and he broke out into a fit of coughs.
"For Christ's sake, Warren, open a god-damned window before I make you eat that cigar!" The driver scolded and, although shooting dirty looks, Warren rolled down the window and continued to puff.
"So, I take it you were in the vehicle that the grey creature destroyed, eh?" asked Rick.
Lauren nodded solemnly. "My— our— friend Richard was left behind in it. He was in it when it was flipped over."
Rick seemed spacey, almost bored. "Yes, it is a sad thing to lose a friend, especially in these times when people are scarce and friends are scarcer. But, you know how it goes, earth to earth, ashes to ashes, dust to dust." He yawned. "Good thing I don't have any friends, though. The smart people, like myself, we don't have any need for friends. Friends just drag us down," he added the last part with a snide emphasis that made Alan want to punch his condescending face in.
Even though they hadn't known Rich for long, it seemed like they'd been together the whole time. Some people just make you feel that way. He was a good person that died too suddenly.
"What was that thing, anyway?" Lauren mumbled to herself.
Rick thought the question was directed at him, and said, "It used to be a regular zombie. I have no idea why, but more and more of those things keep popping up all around, especially near the mountains. As you can guess, they're blind. Well, not all the way, but in bright sunlight they can't see a thing, and they become enraged when light shines in their eyes. Also, they are near deaf, the poor beasts, and loud noises also seem to trigger a rampage, much like an elephant or rhinoceros. It is a sad thing that your friend had to be caught up in that." He spat out the word "friend" like it was undercooked meat.
"I sent out a party earlier to get rid of the pests, but it seems they failed to do so and were killed in the process," he added, distantly.
Then, after a few seconds he sat up and smiled. "Well," he clapped his hands together cheerily," you will love base camp. The accommodations most certainly aren't anything you're used to, but you'll learn to appreciate it." He shot a nasty look at Alan.
"But, just so you know, you'll have to earn your keep, and if not, Warren here will take care of that. Right, Warren?" The razors came out again as Warren smirked at Alan, puffing away on his fat little cigar.
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The facility wasn't comfy looking or cozy, to say the least.
All the colors were varying shades of grey; broken only by the bright colors on the centerfolds of naked women hanging above the small beds of the soldiers, most of whom were sleeping and snoring rather loudly.
Something smelled bad, but not the rotting kind of bad.
Just old garbage bad.
But, all in all, the place was orderly and secure. A large stone wall surrounded the whole perimeter, the building sat atop a small hill. It wasn't the largest building she'd seen, but it looked like a lot of people, maybe two thousand, could comfortably live here. And they did live here. Only the soldiers slept in the little cots.
Down a long hallway (dimly lit by flickering fluorescent lights) there were doors on either side, presumably rooms. People were going into and out of them, looking either like they just woke up or they hadn't been to sleep in awhile. To the left of where Lauren stood, were the kitchens.
She could smell a sickening sweet concoction wafting from the swinging, warehouse-sized doors. The odd thing about this hustling and bustling scene was that there were no, or very few, women walking about. This troubled Lauren. What if she was one of the only women?
What would happen, in a warehouse filled with grown men?
She rubbed her arms to keep the goose-flesh from breaking out over her. Alan stood close, looking like a wounded puppy. Rick was jabbering away, giving a tour with a little too much pride in his voice.
"And these are the kitchens. We have stockpiled enough food to last about two years. We are growing a garden out back, and, although we have very little, will be harvesting potatoes and yams, hopefully by the time thanksgiving comes around. " He smiled and walked on.
The snoring echoed across the steel and concrete, along with the patter of fat rain drops hitting the steel roof. They wandered down a hallway she'd not seen yet. The hallway was half the size of the one behind her, and this hallway was dark.
Rick talked as he guided them. "Rooms are back down that way, but you'll be issued them later. Down this hall we have our infirmary, weapons room, and latrine. Of course, the toilets do flush, but we must first gather more water before we use them. Right now, some of the men are probably outside collecting the rain in buckets, later to be used as drinking water, the rest, for toilets. I daresay, I'd rather use a bucket than go thirsty, eh?" He chuckled to himself when Lauren and Alan didn't respond.
Then, he stopped walking. "This wing of the building is specifically for the females. You will be escorted there, shortly," he added, nodding at Lauren.
"This young man will be sent to the infirmary to be checked out. That's some wound there, son. Lucky if it's not infected. Oh, and also," he whipped around and faced them. "You will be given a uniform, one pillow, a sheet, and a wool blanket," he said sternly.
"As far as personnel possessions go, there are none. Not until you prove your worth. Starting first thing tomorrow, you will be put into a group and work, and you will earn privileges. Now, if you'll excuse me, miss, I will lead the boy to the infirmary. I'll be back shortly." He walked off without waiting for Alan.
Alan slowly trudged along behind him, glancing back to Lauren with fear and confusion in his eyes. She felt bad for him. He'd seen so much, almost been killed. But, hadn't she, too? She stood awkwardly in the hallway, listening to the rain hit the roof, watching people go hurriedly into the kitchen, feeling alone.
A couple of passing men walked by and whistled at her, only to be shouted at by the men sleeping on the small cots.
If only Rich were here, she thought. She'd felt protected when he came along. Until then, she had to be the brave one, the one to lead Alan and…Carol. But when he came along, he almost seemed to know what to do. He was like a father figure. But he was gone, and here she was, soaked, looking like a drowned rat, and standing in a dark hallway.
Finally, after what seemed like an hour, Rick returned.
For some reason, not having Alan at her side made her jumpy when he was around. He put his arm around her shoulders and led her onward. She didn't like it, but she kept quiet. "Now that he's getting fixed up, you won't have to worry," he said.
Like that's going to help me from not worrying, she thought.
They were at the end of the corridor and turned left, went through a door, and it was suddenly like they were in a sweatshop. Women sat around, either sewing patches on uniforms or re-stitching pants, lacing boots, or polishing weapons. There were no older women, the oldest probably being forty, the youngest twelve.
The thing that disgusted Lauren the most, though, was that each and every woman was pregnant, even the young girls.
At the far right of the big, square room, something wailed.
A baby. The women at the end were nursing, changing, and taking care of babies. "Most of them don't live, you see," Rick said casually, like this wasn't the most appalling thing in the world. "We run low on medicine, and most die from sicknesses or miscarry. " He saw the disgusted look on Lauren's face and sighed.
"To rebuild society, we need people. Women are life-bringers, fruit-bearers, the key to civilization. Trust me; they are all In good hands. And my men are all eager and willing participants who take care of them. The roles, you see. The man as the protector, the head of house, the ones who bring home the bacon. The women take care of the children; look after the 'house', so to speak. Cook. Clean. This is how we do things."
Lauren couldn't believe her ears. "What? You're running a fucking harem is all that you're doing, you sick bastard!"
His face went from cheery to serious in no time flat. "If you have no use, you can opt to visit Warren," he said. Then, the turned to the women and clapped his hands. Everyone stopped what they were doing and looked at him.
"Now, this woman chooses to not compromise. Does she want to see Warren?" All the women, in unison, shook their heads, some with wide eyes.
"No."
"And does she want to find a way to help this society, to keep humanity thriving?"
All together, "Yes."
He turned back to her, and the noise started again. "You see, this isn't a democracy. It's either you help out, or you pay some other way. I'll be back later to assign your room and uniform. Good day." He stepped out of the room and closed the door before she could answer. She ran to it and tugged the handle.
It wouldn't budge.
She let out a cry and sank to the floor. One mess after the other. That's all it's been.
She felt alone, hopeless, lost. She wished for Alan. She wished for Rich. She wished for Carol. Wait, no. Not Carol. There were no old people; she could see that. Why was that? She got up, walked to the nearest girl her age, a slender redhead with bright green eyes and a plump belly, who was sewing a ratty pocket back onto a green uniform top. "Uh, hello. I'm Lauren."
She held her hand out to the woman. Not taking her eyes away from her work, the woman replied, "Nice to meet you, Lauren. I'm Andrea."
Lauren let her arm drop to her side and looked around again. "Do you guys… girls, live here?" she asked.
Andrea shook her head and finally looked up to Lauren. "Ooh, you're a pretty one. Just watch out, all right?" Then she slapped her hand over her mouth.
"I am so sorry. I didn't mean that. I mean, you're probably already frazzled as it is, and here I am… well, anyway… no, we don't live in here. This is just where we work during the day. We have assigned rooms and all that." Now, for the big question, the one she thought she already knew the answer to.
"Are there any old people here?" Andrea looked confused at first, but then shook her head solemnly.
"Nope, they all go to see Warren, and don't come back."