My apologies for taking so long, in adding the next chapter. At anyrate here it is, and as always feel free to review!
The three things one needed to survive the long night that fell upon the world are all easily acquired. Supplies, desire to survive, and when possible lots and lots of booze.
An excerpt from the unauthorized biography 'A knight's tale." written three hundred years after the death of the man known as 'Paladin.'
Chapter 4 Slow windin blues..
Scott sat under the roof shed's comforting metal awning. He spent this time feeling the early morning pre-dawn breeze. It had taken him a few hours to work his way along that corridor and barricade the warehouse below. The young man was more than a little surprised that his major injuries were mostly bruises, and a few flesh wounds from being slammed against sharp metal containers.
The fact that he had survived against so many of the reanimated dead and not become one of them was a thing of outright confusion and a niggling feeling of pride. Certainly he hadn't fought them all at once, but he'd faced down over fourteen of the monsters in the space of an hour.
He'd barely avoided having nearly twice that number rampage all over his exhausted ass, but almost was good enough. The storehouse below was barricaded though, the zombie population outside the walls and doors had tripled in the last hour or so. It didn't matter though, as soon as he rested, he was going to open the water gate and swipe one of the company mini-barges. The nearby river had been a perfect transport system back in the company's heyday, Before other people had started moving in and ruining things. A small family down river, for instance, put in a waterwheel about eight years ago. They didn't need it, they had no use for it, but the owners thought it looked darling. This had effectively blocked the movement of cargo due to the narrowness of the river at the area.
The storage firm had been trying to make them remove it legally ever since, but they had no real way to do that. The family's property line was on the other side of the river, and since they owned an acre or so on both sides, the river was considered their's as far as that spot in between.
The mini-barges were about to be sold at auction next week, but then the world had gone to hell.
Scott gazed up at the clouds in the early morning sky, letting his worries pass through one side of his mind and back out the other. Thoughts of the struggle that had ensued earlier flittered through his head. Things that he could have done better, ways things could have gone worse.
---
six hours earlier...
He panted for breath, lungs burning as he continued his moderately paced run down the corridor. Scott was halfway through the tunnel already and his red flashlight beacon gleamed against the perpetual darkness. He knew this would be the riskiest portion of his escape plan bar none. There was no safe spot to retreat to quickly, no way to seperate the dead from him besides an unrelenting forward drive to his goal.
None had shown up yet, but he knew the first outer access ramp was coming up. If James had been lazy as usual and not locked the doors here, then this would be a very long , or incredibly short, run indeed.
The possibility was why he'd set off his stereo plan. He was rapidly leaving the area of it's influence though, and that would be the critical difference.
He ran up and slowed to a stop at the first intersection. The animal instinct part of him had said keep running. The reasoning thinking animal part of him said clear the area and make sure the door is locked. Any other random parts of him, besides the one that is always voicing it's opinion in any manly lifestyle, kept silent. As to the talkative part he made a mental note to get laid as soon as the apocalypse took a breather. Zombies first, random poonage later. Well, if anymore poonage existed.. he wasn't particularly into the alternative.
He slowly made his way along the corridor access tunnel to check the door. It was really a metal shutter with an internal cross-brace. The brace prevented anyone outside from manually or electronically opening the door. This particular one had a pair of smallish flexi-glass windows on it for some reason he could never understand.
Scott took a quick look at every and sighed in relief as he noticed this door was at least secured. He checked out the window and was a little concerned with how the waning moonlight was shining upon several wobbling human-ish forms. His little diversion had either stopped working, or didn't reach this far.
At anyrate, he about faced and moved out along the corridor back-tracking to his former location and heading onward. The next service ramp was not too far away and with a certain knowledge that there were at least a few of those rotting buggers about he had to be doubly sure the last ones were locked.
He'd gotten halfway to the second door when he heard the first shuffling. His nerve racked senses went into over drive as he slowed himself down and listened intently. His light was going to be a dead give away if these things had working eyes. He wasn't sure how they hunted, or even moved for that matter, but he wondered at just how likely they were to still see with those dead eyes.
The shuffling increased a little as he calmly, well for this situation at least, worked his way forward, his hand going to his axe, so that it was held in a strong dual grip. The moment of truth was here.
He got to the next intersection and swiftly spun around to face whatever horrors he might find. His flashlight slashing ruthlessly through the dark interior attempting to search out the unseen. He was confused at first, having found nothing. He walked further down the corridor and still nothing.
The shuffling was getting louder now, but he had seen no sign of anything. Upon reaching the door he found it to be locked and no zombies outside stirring about, at least at this door.
The shuffling grew louder and began to turn into solid steps and then soft moans. It was then that Scott realized his error. The dead hadn't been down the corridor. Underground tunnels and caves were notorious for misleading people through sound, and in this case had lead him into a dead end. His flashlight wheeled around to cast a light down the corridor just in time to see the first living corpse.
He noticed oddly in this few seconds before all hell broke loose that in fact they didn't see the light. It was shining right on the first zombie, an older looking man of thinly boned structure. It wasn't until his biological need to breathe kicked in that they reacted.
Shrieking in unholy fury the lead zombie spun towards Scott's location and with unerring accuracy raced towards him hands outstretched in the parody of a lover racing towards it's love.
Scott's only response was to heft his axe, narrow his eyes, and say, "Come get some." There hadn't been much else to do. Opening the door to try and flee outside would have been suicidal. There was no time, and an unknown number of those things out there.
With all the fury his shaking limbs could muster Scott caught the old man with his makeshift axe hard on the shoulder, smashing him brutally down onto the floor. It took the man mearly seconds to try and regain his footing, but by then Scott was already Swinging for a second time his heavy blade slamming down with a strong fluid motion to slam into it's skull easily cracking it like an egg.
Scott didn't have it so easily with the next one though, because as he lifted his axe to try and face the new threat, said threat was already barreling into him. Struggling mightily for his life as the man was taken clear off his feet, Scott once again found himself wrestling a much stronger opponent on the ground. His ears were filled with his own screams of anger and outrage to the point that he could not hear the other two much farther away swiftly moving up.
The zombified shopping clerk attempting to gnaw him had been one of the more attractive blondes over at the local kwik stop. She was perky, upbeat, and easily mislead by handsome aggressive men. Typical of many young beautiful females. Had he the time to notice or care Scott might have read the tag on her torn shirt that read, "Nikki"
Now, however, she was about the worst date any guy could imagine. She smelled like road kill, had bad teeth, looked like a rotting ham, and was definitely too clingy and needy. She most definitely needed something that Scott had, but sadly for her here was another jerk who was about to break her heart. Literally.
Catching himself beginning to turn over on his back Scott knew immediately he had to act. If he wound up on his belly this would be over in seconds.
He performed the riskiest maneuver he could think of and literally shoved his arm up into 'Nikki's' face, causing the hungry undead clerk to immediately begin gnawing and worrying at it like a dog with a new pair of shoes.
He bit back his frustrated screams and used the new leverage to roll the zombie girl over and ruthlessly slam his fist into her chest over and over with all the force he could muster snapping her ribs on the second strike, and driving them in much farther on the third. Though the zombie was stronger her defenses were weak and bones brittle.
While crushing her heart into little pieces wasn't his main objective it allowed him to do the most disturbing thing he could think of. The monsters arms were not moving nearly as well as before, leading him to believe that they did have physical limitations after all. His own arm feeling like it was getting ready to tear off and the pressure unbearable, the man reached down with the freehand to unsheathe his survival knife.
He didn't have a clear shot at her skull and fearful that she might bite his face, if he tried to stab her forehead, or worse miss and stab himself, Scott did the next best thing. He took aim at her unprotected neck and stabbed ruthlessly into it. The stab shifted into a sawing motion as the desperate man began working the reverse side of his blade, the serrated edge, against muscle sinew and bone. It took precious seconds and his next opponents were turning the corner, but the man was able to use the zombies own desperate gnawing on his arm to his advantage and help rib her head free of her body.
To his disgust the head kept gnawing, but with much less strength. A quick disturbing flick of his wrist later lead to the head hurtling down the corridor to slap harmlessly into the approaching zombie's stomach.
With a low growl Scott picked up his axe, and prepared to face the oncoming cannibal corpses...
,,,Back in the present...
Scott snapped out of his reverie as his watches digital alarm went off. He'd set it to give him four hours of rest after he'd cleaned out the area. Well not counting the zombies outside. It was time to finish loading up and go.
After shimmying down the roof ladder, and cautiously checking all the entrances he'd sealed off, Scott wandered towards the docking area passing by a small platform with at least six dead zombies crushed and splattered in random locations by a gore encrusted multi-ton metal container.
He stood there a moment gazing at his handiwork and sighed. "Man I can't believe that worked.."
A little over five hours ago he'd been chased around this warehouse by nearly a dozen of the undead monstrosities. He'd whittled their numbers down by hit and run tactics, until he'd spotted an insane chance to take the last of them out with the remnants of his fleeting strength.
He'd barely had time to scurry up the side ladder, leading to the one thing that could save him, besides any divine intervention. Luckily there had been gas left in the mini-crane they used to hoist boxes onto the barges, and he'd used it to clear out most of the remaining zombies. Some lazy foreman had allowed his guys to leave without securing the container, much to Scott's joy. He's used it to great effect. One or two of them had managed to make it to his ladder and were hard to hit with the box. He eventually settled on simply lowering it down on top of them carefully. The end result was crushed zombies being slowly destroyed while feebly clawing at the ladder in front of them.
Scott shook his head and went to the barge, making certain all his gear was stowed. The little craft was only about as long as your average school bus, and a little over twice as wide but it could haul a few tons of material up and down the river at a time.
With the morning sun barely peaking over the horizon, Scott finished filling up the diesel drums, he had scrounged. He had enough food for about two days, and enough diesel to run his little barge for a month. He wasn't sure when it would go bad, But he figured if he stirred it every so often it might last longer. Honestly though, he would be surprised is his supply didn't turn bad in under a years time.
Either way, it would be a moot point if his next stop was his last. Even more to the point his current final destination might not work out. He planned on journeying down the river to a small grocery store about ten miles outside of town. It was on a small little islet with a quaint little bridge attaching it to the bank. The place was sufficiently out of the way that it would serve as a stocking point. Though it was nominally a grocery store, the customers were mainly fisherman and it had a decent trade in bait and supplies.
The food would be nice, but the supplies were what he was really after. He'd need them to be reasonably self sufficient if the lake house he was going to still lacked ownership. It would be the perfect hideaway spot. Few new about it, the owners had died some time ago and the place was in a bit of disrepair. The good thing about it though, was that it was on a small island in the middle of the lake, and the only way on or off had been by boat. There was a small orchard, and a few wild edible plants that were the remnants of the old garden they'd had. Sadly most of the animals had been taken away. Well good for the animals possibly, but bad for his desire for fresh meat.
The thing he liked most about the lake house was that it had a tend foot wall surrounding it, with a steel gated front door, and easy access to the lake via a side pier. The barge would fit quit nicely inside the shed there. Yeah it would be perfect. This was why he doubted no one stayed there though. The existence of the house wasn't common knowledge to anyone but local fisherman, but it was more than likely at least one of them survived and had a few family members with them there.
With the sun rising into the sky, Scott finished his prep and took a deep breath before firing up the barge. The moment the engine roared to life the moans outside turned into angry and hungered screeches. He really hoped the buggers couldn't swim, the water near the warehouse was only twelve feet deep.
With a sigh he proclaimed, "Onward... to adventure... or some shit like that." and began moving into the river.