A curse shall light upon the limbs of men; Domestic fury and fierce civil strife Shall cumber all the parts of the world; Blood and destruction shall be so in use, And dreadful objects so familiar, That mothers shall but smile when they behold Their infants quarter'd with the hands of war; All pity chok'd with custom of fell deeds: And Cæsar's spirit, ranging for revenge, With Ate by his side come hot from hell, Shall in these confines with a monarch's voice Cry 'Havoc!' and let slip the dogs of war; That this foul deed shall smell above the earth With carrion men, groaning for burial. -- Antony
"Hey boss, what's the truck doing?"
I gripped the water bottles tightly with one hand and turned to the windows. The darkness disappeared as bright white headlights cut into the black sea. On one side of the truck the door had been pulled ajar, and a black-clothed body kicked at the wave of groping fingertips and rancid nubs of arms. Shit! "Use the saws!" I screamed to myself. The truck began rocking violently from side to side as the seething mass pushed on it from every direction, sending it perilously close to tipping over. Rose colored flashes punctuated the doorway struggle and the armored cabin was re-sealed.
"Saws ain't working. The fucking saws ain't working!" Red dropped the box of Hershey's bars he'd grabbed and pulled his weapon up. Instinct slapped the barrel down before he did something really stupid.
"I've got an idea, but they'll have to be in on it or else it's up to them."
"Graham, Lou, respond!" I radioed frantically. Come on. Come on damnit!
"This is- Gra- We're in a -- batteries gone--." The communications cut in and out as she responded.
"Listen Graham, I need you and Lou to take the M249's, and wait until they start moving away from the truck. Then mow the sons of bitches down."
"Rog-- how we going --away from the truck?"
"Leave that to us."
"Copy." The signal died.
"Red, now we can make some noise." His lips parted as he realized what was hopefully about to happen.
The doors burst open violently as his massive boot kicked the glass, sending several pieces shattering to the ground. Spider-legs of fire stretched in every direction from the barrel of my H&K 53 assault rifle as I loosed three rounds in semi-auto. Whump. Whump. Whump. Red preferred a more aggressive approach, opting for his M16A2's full auto. Brrrpt. Brrrpt. Brrrpt. Hair was tossed into the air as half of a skull was pulverized. Crimson covered the zed next to it, but it didn't seem to care about being covered in rotting gray matter.; all it cared about was fresh meat. One or two twitchers began jerkily dragging down the highway in our direction. We needed all of them.
"Hey you ugly sons of bitches. Look at me over here, fresh meat!" I waved my arms frantically as I ran into the center of the highway. A hundred bodies slowly turned from their beating to me. That's right...come on. A head resting limply on the shoulder of its body began the loud, keening moan as it shambled forward. Two rounds perforated through the eyes, dropping it in its bloody tracks. The truck's rocking stabilized as a large segment of the group began heading for me.
"Only the runners right now," I whispered to Red.
Two forms quickly outpaced the wave of flesh and began their awkward stumbling run in our direction. Six rounds hit one in the chest, having as much impact as a hard punch to the gut would. I inhaled deeply and took my time--bingo. One shot . The second runner's jaw fractured into two pieces from a shot, but it persisted; it's open mouth hung open in a hideous split, the tongue falling dryly to the pavement before being smashed underfoot. A second shot from Red grazed the scalp, blowing off a good portion of skin and hair, but missing the vital organ. Training kicked in, and my barrel moved quickly to the target. Deep breath. Squeeze the trigger. Muzzle flash and a kick in my shoulder. A body writhed wildly for a moment on the ground before one final spasm. I waited until the group between us and the truck was at least a hundred deep before radioing Graham.
"Loose the dogs."
A horrible, wet smacking reverberated through the streets as bullets tore through body after body before breaking up and stopping. Heads exploded like hideous pimples, plumes of blood misted through the air and pieces of bone landed with dull tinks against crimson asphalt. The minds of the infected were concerned only with the intense, all-consuming hunger. They surged on, falling ten and twenty at a time under the heavy machine gun fire; relentless in their quest to satiate their carnal desire. We slowly began working closer to the truck, dropping the runners and stragglers as they broke from the pack. In ten minutes, it was all over.
"Pop the engine and fill 'er with water. I'll cover you."
Red and I sprinted to the cabin, dodging between the stilled limbs of the fallen. He jumped onto the bumper and tore the tops of the water bottles off. The clear water came from the body in small pulsing surges, like the zombies did. I watched it as the swishing liquid so necessary for life disappeared into the darkness of the engine. Life in a microcosm. There was life out there in the world, but it had been lost somewhere in this darkness of death and lawlessness.
"Try her now." He yelled. The engine rattled for a moment before growling to life.
"Fuck yea, let's get out of here." We stormed to the open doors as Graham and Lou eagerly let us back in. No kid ever looked so precious or woman so beautiful as they did then. "Glad to be back." I whispered as I closed and locked the door.
"Don't make this a habit." She responded with a smile. "Okay kiddo, gimme directions. Let's get the hell where we're going."
Lou shook his head at the screen of his monitor. "GPS says we're in Millhaven, Connecticut."
"This is Massachussetts." I interjected without thinking.
"See the problem?"
"Why is it so off?"
"I think somebody's been fucking with it. Somebody's fucked with the batteries too. They're gone. That's why the saws didn't work."
"Want me to run to the gas station and pick some up?" Red chuckled, but Graham only frowned. At least someone found humor in the situation.
"Hey, anyone else see that?" Graham asked suddenly. We all stared blankly at the mass grave below us, but none could distinguish anything else in the distance. The air in the truck was suddenly cold, ice in my veins as I searched the trees and broken windows of shops.
"I don't see anything," Lou said.
"Me neither," Red added.
"Up there, in the sky. If you squint you can see it. It's like a column...of light."
The trace outline of a light beam was evident.
"There's no registered outpost until Boston. That's thirty miles."
"That's gotta be five, ten at the most." Graham said excitedly. "Survivors."
"There's no survivors 'til there's survivors." Red input what seemed almost proverbial words.
"I'm going to take a nap, wake me up when we're near whatever it is."
Roanoke
"We're here." An angel's voice woke me. Light poured in slowly as my eyes parted.
"Where's here?"
"A mile or so from the light."
Graham backed up as I swung my legs off the cot, the gentle vibrations of the truck wiggling the bed. The rear of the truck was it's heart. The rear door had been triple locked and reinforced from the inside, and was only used for quick resupply. A walkway had been cut into the back of the extended cab, providing direct access between the front and rear halves of the truck. In the back were the gun racks, spare truck parts, and battery bay. Normally, we carried twenty-four car batteries to power anything that needed it: small refrigerators, computers...saws. Unfortunately, all but three of our batteries had disappeared before we left. I'd have to speak with someone about that.
We moved into the front, watching intently as Red wove through the congested roads that led to the light. Cars were arranged two by two on alternating sides of the road; speed breaks. Betty scraped and scratched as she maneuvered slowly through the winding path.
"This is a neighborhood, surely nobody would have made an outpost here." Lou remarked quietly.
I glanced around. Ghosts of a former life stood as silent guardians to our past. Two story houses lined the silent street. In the yards were strewn clothes, bodies, and even an overturned tricycle. Doors swung slowly in the wind, left ajar in the rush and panic of that day. A bloody handprint had been scraped along the white wooden banister of a porch, and a slipper was in the grass several feet away.
"Would you look at this?"
I couldn't believe it. A small guardhouse where the road split was bordered on either side by heavy metal fences. Inside, a man was radioing someone. After a moment four heavily armed men appeared at the gate. Search lights on the stucco wall snapped on, blinding us before moving around the truck and into the surrounding neighborhood. I shivered as a metallic screech scraped like nails down a chalkboard; the large gates slowly opening. The guard smiled and waved us in. The sky was turning a bluish-orange as the sun began to rise.
"It's the dawn of a new day," I whispered into Graham's ear.
"You know the last dawn I remember," she replied as she gave me a gentle kiss on the cheek, "let's make it through the day before we celebrate."