**Well, here's chapter 2, with the introduction of the survivors we all know and love. For reference, this chapter occurs around 2 days BEFORE chapter 1, I simply started there for literary purposes.
"You know what I miss?" Louis asked the room. "Checking email. Seeing what's new."
"You know," Francis said with false levity as he slid shells into his Benelli. "I love how you just skip over the part where we asked."
Zoey checked her rifle's sights on the wall and chuckled. "Aw, come on Francis. Don't be like that."
Bill merely scoffed. "Bah! Keep your computers, email…whatever. Just give me a pen and paper."
"How old are you again Bill?" Louis asked, raising an eyebrow.
"Let me put it this way." Francis said. He stood in front of the solid steel door and racked the slide of his shotgun. "Ol' Bill here didn't fight in the Vietnam war. He fought in the Civil War."
"You're damn right I did!" Bill growled. He grabbed the bar blocking the door and looked at Francis, making sure the younger man was ready before he pulled it aside. Despite their rough banter, there was no way one would let another into unnecessary danger. "Now get your Confederate ass out that door and kill some Goddamn zombies!" Francis laughed and gave the old man a nod. Bill yanked the bar away from the door, and Francis put his boot right in the middle of it, slamming it open, following it up with an immediate shotgun blast.
The zombie who'd been standing in the doorway, clawing desperately at them, was thrown back into a dumpster. Francis followed, stepping out into the alley and looking around.
"All clear!" he called back inside. To the left, leading out to the street, a large red semi blocked the entire alley entrance. Their only path lay ahead. There were three or four zombies he could see, all in a semi-lucid state that occurred when they received no stimuli for enough time.
Time to provide a little stimuli, he thought.
Behind Francis, the other three survivors rushed out, weapons at the ready. Without any prompting, they opened up. Bill shot the nearest two with his M16. One of them fell backwards onto a flaming barrel. It caught fire and collapsed, its flesh starting to sizzle. On the stairs leading up to a warehouse door in the brick wall ahead, another fell when Louis let off a burst of fire. Francis blasted the one zombie sitting on a dumpster on the left. Only Zoey held back. She was watching the rooftops through the telescoping sight of the G36C she'd pulled off an infected SWAT cop a week or so North. As the team's best marksman, her job was to keep an eye out for Specials.
The gunfire echoed briefly through the alleyway before subsiding. "Let's move." Louis said, already nervous. The other's shared his apprehension. Sound carried, and brought only death. Bill looked at Zoey.
"We're clear." she said, confirming a lack of Specials.
They moved forward and entered the small warehouse. The door to the adjoining convenience store was open, and they could hear shuffling within. The zombies were quickly dispatched, leaving the store empty. Literally.
"Damn." Francis grumbled. "Picked clean."
Zoey knelt down and reached under a collapsed shelf. "Not quite. Some lightweight pain meds."
Bill grabbed the proffered bottle and examined it. "Ibuprofen, extra strength. Not good for much more than headaches, but I'll take it. Good find."
She rolled her eyes. Thanks old man. But she pocketed the small bottle anyway.
Over by the door to the outside street, Francis poked his shotgun out and peered around. He then brought his head back in and whistled. "Shit. It's heavy out there."
Bill cursed. "What's the count?"
Francis looked out again for a minute, then returned. "At least 40 total, probably more. Looks like we're at the top of a hill, a terrace or some shit. Bunch of apartments or something, and an old-ass street. I can see the bridge at the bottom, directly ahead. It's pretty foggy though."
"Is the bridge down?"
"Did I not just say it's foggy?"
"Alright, alright. No need to get testy."
When the four of them exited the store, they were indeed on a terrace, made of large paving stones made to look like old style Georgia, even though the neighborhood was less than 50 years old. The buildings were the same, looking like a step out of the 1920's. Only the modern power lines leading from the city behind them to the bridge ahead gave any evidence that they were in the 21st century. Well, that, and the Chevy Astro Van parked just on the edge of the terrace.
Even with the grime of weeks of neglect, and the concrete barriers of a failed military defense, Zoey was struck by the classical beauty of the street. "I've always liked old buildings like this." she reflected out loud.
"You wanna die in one?" Francis asked seriously. Zoey rolled her eyes again.
"Cut the chatter. Let's clean this mess up." Bill said forcefully. He jogged up to the nearest of the few zombies on the same level as the group and smashed it in the side of the head with his machete, removing most of the top of its head. Their path to the edge was mostly clear besides, the dozen or so infected somewhat removed to the sides. None were paying attention either; despite the gunshots from inside the store, as soon as something stopped being interesting, they went back to doing nothing, until something became interesting again.
The survivors quickly cleared the terrace of infected. They were lucky that the military had tried to block bridge access to the public. Almost every side street leading to the area was blocked by high concrete barriers, limiting the number of zombies that could be in the area to those who were already there. They took up position at the edge of the terrace, looking over the street through an iron bar fence and looked out.
There were dozens of them, shambling around. Once in a while, one of the infected would bump into one of the cars parked along the side of the four-way intersection in front of the bridge. The batteries were long dead, preventing the alarms from going off, but that didn't stop the survivors from flinching every time it happened. They'd had more than one bad experience with car alarms, and after the run they'd had the last few days getting here, they weren't in a position to deal with another. They were low on ammo, weak from malnutrition, and covered in scratches and cuts which, while no threat from the Green Virus' infection, subjected them to all manner of more mundane infections which were more than capable of leaving them all crippled.
The bridge itself wasn't raised per-say, as Bill had feared, but they couldn't get on anyway. A massive steel barrier 12 feet high formed a tight barrier across the roadway, and both pedestrian access ways were blocked by high metal gates topped with barbed wire. Above the road was a large platform for maintenance and city crews, completely isolated from the rest of the bridge except by two ladders. The problem was that only the ladder on the right was even down, and they couldn't access it anyway without either dropping the barrier or unlocking the gate. There had to be some way to get across…there. Zoey noticed a dirty white generator set up next to the bridge lift's machine building. The shaft leading 15 feet into the air had a series of wires connected to it, leading into the building.
Central power went out, so they decided to jury-rig a little backup supply, she mused. She was impressed with their ingenuity in what must have been an extremely chaotic time. But that's a big ass bridge. Can one little generator handle it?
"A lot clearer than I expected for a river crossing." Bill observed. "Means one of two things. Either they managed to just about finish the evacuation from this side to the other…"
"Or they tried to evacuate from the other side to this one, and they failed." Zoey finished grimly.
"Yeah…"
"See that generator?" she asked, pointing.
Louis followed her finger. "That looks like what'll power the bridge."
"Only one though?" Zoey asked.
He scoffed. "No way. At least two, probably more." They trusted his word. Before, he'd been a systems tech at an engineering firm. His knowledge had pulled them out of a lot of scrapes. He smiled. "But there's hope guys. Look, there are other lines. Whoever set this up must have set up other generators. We've just gotta find 'em."
"And I love how you just skip over the part in the middle where we have to fight the undead hordes to get to them." Francis grumbled. Bill clapped him on the shoulder.
"Should be fun kid."
Francis groaned as a series of clacks and snaps were heard, as everyone checked their weapons and reloaded where needed. "Son of a bitch. At least there aren't any witches next to it."
"Murphy's law." was Zoey's simple reply.
They went down the stairs single file onto the street. Francis blasted a zombie at the foot of the stairs. On the street, the every zombie within visual range looked up at them.
"Don't bother with them." Bill said. "Just keep moving."
They swiftly traversed the open stretch of road to the generator, encircled by a chain link fence. Zoey dispatched the one zombie hanging around the generator with a smash of her rifle butt. She then put two long bursts into a trio of zombies just inside the open machine doors. Francis and Bill made a few kills of their own, while Louis got to work on the generator. He pressed a few buttons, testing its functions.
"Looks like it's in order." he muttered.
"Looks?" Francis hissed. Another zombie came around the corner. He smashed it in the face with his shotgun.
Louis made a tsk noise with his tongue. "Come on, man! I've only seen this kinda thing done a couple of times, when the office staff got taken on tours of some of the sites. I paid attention, but it was a long time ago. Gimme a minute!"
"We might not have a minute…" Bill said. The noise they were causing was drawing more and more attention. The nearest infected were starting to wake up from their catatonic state. They were sniffing, jerking their heads towards the faint scent and sound of living humans. Those whose jaws were still intact began snapping them, their teeth clacking together in what Zoey thought was the perfect embodiment of the sounds made by the undead in the new World War Z film. It had only come out last year, how the hell was she to know that it was about to become reality? She shot one zombie just as its gaze flicked over to them and a growl rose in its throat.
Louis diligently continued working. Everyone else just tried to stay quiet, tried not to attract any more attention. "Almost…" He kept hitting the starter, but it just wouldn't kick in. It continued to sputter and go quiet. "Almost…got it!" The generator gave a throaty roar and came to life. The lights on the shaft extending into the air flared brightly, then settled to their more subdued glow. "Ha-ha!" he exclaimed, thrilled. "That's one down!" The rest of the streetlights came on as well, slowly flickering to life.
"Guys…" Zoey nearly whispered. A great howl went up from the undead as they were fully woken to the sounds of the generator at full steam, and they zeroed in on its sound. A howl of joy that heralded fresh meat. A howl that Zoey heard in her dreams almost every night, and often woke to in sheer terror, shooting up in a cold sweat, trying to keep quiet to avoid waking the others and showing her weakness.
"Aw, shit!" Bill cursed.
"Move!"
The survivors started a dead run, following the lines that ran above the street past the bridge. Every door on the street slammed open and zombies poured out. Zoey let off a running burst of fire into a zombie running at Bill. He didn't even flinch, just shrugged off the body as it fell on him without even slowing down.
"Shit, shit, shit, shit, shit…" Francis muttered continually.
Their weapons didn't stop firing so long as they had ammunition, and after weeks together with their favorite weapons, each was intimately familiar with their fellows combat habits. Francis took point, ahead of Bill. Zoey was to the side behind Bill, allowing her to snipe in all directions. Louis took up the rear, his Uzi spitting bullets into anything behind them.
"Don't stop moving!" Bill shouted.
"There's a lot of them behind us!" Louis said. "Zoey!"
"On it!" she said, turning around to join him in running backwards. Two weapons sprayed rounds, hitting chests, arms and heads and dropping zombies by the dozen. Francis stumbled as one particularly rotund zombie barreled around the tail end of a cube van, nearly running into him. He banked off the zombie's body and fired a shot from the hip into it. The buckshot tore through and severed the zombie's spine, dropping it instantly.
Bill fired two more shots, then his rifle clicked empty. He cursed and put his boot in the chest of his intended target. Francis glanced over momentarily when he noticed a slackening of fire coming from Bill's sector. "Re-fucking-loading!" he grumbled, shoved two more biting infected away from him as they interrupted him, the fresh magazine in his off hand.
Any half second where there wasn't a mindless flesh-eater in front of you was a moment of relief to reload your weapon and remove for half a minute the stress of wondering if your weapon would run dry at exactly the wrong moment. They were entering a construction zone at the bottom of the hill, where the road turned into packed dirt, dotted with traffic cones and reflective yellow tape.
"There's the generator!" Louis said unnecessarily.
"Hold on, I hear a Hun-" Francis' whirled around towards the sound, but his warning was cut off as the Hunter slammed into him from above, knocking him to the ground. It immediately started clawing at him.
"Son of a bitch!" Bill exclaimed, recoiling instinctively.
Francis fought back, grabbing the Hunter's arms and trying to keep it from scratching him. "Get…this…thing…off!" It screeched as Louis and shot it point blank in the head with a six round burst. Bill quickly recovered and grabbed the axe off his back. He swung it low like a gold club and hit the Hunter in the ribcage. It lifted off Francis and toppled off to the side.
"Guys!" Zoey complained, not liking being left alone to clear the street.
"Shit! Sorry Zoey!" Louis said, ever eager to please. He returned to her side and continued firing.
"No, it's alright." Francis grumbled. Bill helped him up with one hand, firing his pistol with the other. "I'll be fine."
"Quit bitching." Bill replied.
As they proceeded to move towards the generator again, the number of zombies attacking them began to peter off. This was partially due to the fact that they moved around the corner, and the zombies at the far end of the street lost sight, sound and interest in them. Mostly however, it was due to the grim fact that they'd torn out a sizeable chunk of Rayford's population already within the last few days, and the small city was quite simply running out of people. There would always be small nests, they knew, but they could perhaps hope that they wouldn't face any more hordes.
Louis skidded to a halt at the second generator and proceeded to repeat the process he'd started up the hill, this time faster, with fewer mistakes. The rest of the group picked off the occasional zombie that came around the corner, looking for its lost quarry.
"That's it!" Louis exclaimed only a few seconds after he started. The second generator grumbled to life as healthily as the first one did. At least they were well kept, Louis thought.
Suddenly, the entire street went strangely quiet as in the distance, a deep, animal roar split the air. IT was accompanied by a deep staccato reverberation in the ground that could only be one thing. The survivors all felt the blood drain from their faces as they realized exactly what that one thing was.
"Fuck me." Francis whispered.
"Weapons check!" Bill ordered, his commanding voice not wavering an inch. "Spread out! He can only go after one of us at a time. If we can surround him, we can confuse him." The four survivors began walking at a moderate pace up the street, back the way they'd come. Any straggling zombies immediately became an afterthought, no more effort being devoted to their execution than might be dedicated to choosing a style of tying ones shoes.
"I hate these things." Zoey whispered, echoing Francis' most favorite words.
"We'll be fine." Bill said gently. His voice surprised her, reminding her so much of her father's. Calm, collected, confident. No fear, no reproach. She wondered how many scared young men had been calmed by that voice as their grizzled Sergeant led them into a foreign jungle. Then she wondered how many had been killed anyway.
The pounding of massive footsteps on the ground became more pronounced as the creature drew closer. As it did, Zoey, who wasn't even out of her teens yet, and who carried that teenage propensity to fixate on seemingly irrelevant elements, noticed something off about it. Like when you were playing piano with a metronome, but your beat was just slightly off regardless, making both sounds sound strange.
"Does anyone else feel that?" she asked. Ahead, a group of two dozen zombies came into view from behind the cube van, running at them. Or running away from something, she thought grimly.
"Feel what?" Francis snapped apprehensively. He was feeling a lot worse about things than he felt anyone else should. As the only shotgun user, he had to get a lot closer to be of any help. Close was the last thing he wanted to be to one of these things. The tall concrete barriers at the far end of the street began to shake as they were pounded on.
Any conversation was halted momentarily as they were forced to deal with the new zombies. They were spread out at least, and all coming from one direction, making things somewhat easier. The survivors approached the cube van and the street started to level out again.
"It's too fast." Zoey said cryptically. She hardly understood what she was talking about either. She just knew something felt wrong.
Louis glanced worriedly at her. "Zoey, what are you-" Louis' cry of surprise was cut off with a choke. Any semblance of order in their firing line dissolved instantly as the seven circles of hell descended on them all at once.
As Louis was yanked away by the Smoker, infected jumped at them from the balconies above; zombies in the upper stories of the buildings who'd been unable to make it to the ground floor the first time around were now eager for another try. And the concrete barrier was finally smashed down, revealing another few dozen zombies, and two tanks.
"Fuck me sideways." Francis complained loudly.
"Louis!" Zoey cried, seeing her friend dragged away. She bashed zombies left and right as she struggled to get to him. A Smoker on the roof had shot its tongue around his neck and was now trying to hang him. He'd managed to catch a foot on the metal railing, but it was being stretched to the limit, as was his neck. He couldn't breathe, so was reduced to making short sputtering noises in his attempt to call for help. Then with a wet crack, his voice caught in his throat as his knee was torn and shredded. The pain both nearly knocked him out and kept him brutally awake. He made a strangled noise that would haunt Zoey for many weeks to come, a sobbing cross between a cry of pain and a whimper. His eyes watered from the sheer agony and his eyes bulged almost out of their sockets. His now mangled leg slipped free of its unfortunate anchor.
Before the Smoker could haul him away, Zoey took a running leap, stepped off the railing, and grabbed the tongue a foot above Louis' head. Her body slammed into him, making him cry out in fresh agony as his knee twisted further. He did black out for a second as Zoey's extra weight made the Smoker drop them to the pavement, landing on both his legs. What brought him back was the Smoker's renewed yank on his neck. Zoey unsheathed the combat knife she'd pulled off an infected National Guardsman and started hacking at the tongue.
She cried out in pain as a zombie fell past her on its way down from an upper story and slashed her back, cutting right through her already damaged pink hoodie and opening up a shallow gouge in the flesh. She ignored it and continued cutting. Suddenly she was pushed roughly aside by Francis, and a moment later, watched as Bill swung his axe, the blade cutting right through the tongue and freeing Louis.
"We need to move!" Bill shouted angrily, as though it were her fault.
"He's injured!" Zoey replied defensively. Francis moved in and grabbed Louis in a fireman's carry.
"I've got him. Just keep me covered!"
The four of them made a mad dash for the final generator. There was no fire discipline, no aiming. Any zombie that came within a few feet was blasted with bullets until it went down. Bill and Zoey announced their reloads with panicky voices. Francis did his best to cover their reloads with his pistol, but he could only do so much.
The renewed hordes of infected were proving something of a boon, to their surprise. They were thick enough to provide some impediment to the Tanks' charge, slowing the two gargantuan beasts enough to give the survivors a chance. Still, the lines above led them into the building just across from the bridge's machine building, and they burst through the door with only inches to spare. The lead Tank's arm followed them in, grabbing desperately for any part of them. Bill turned around instantly and sprayed it with bullets, forcing it to angrily withdraw and look for a wider way in. Zoey dispatched the trio of zombies in the room with them. The other Tank, which hadn't learned its companion's lesson, simply started pounding on the doorframe. It was brick with a steel frame, but it wouldn't hold up for long against an angry Tank.
"We are in deep shit." Francis wheezed, exhausted from carrying Louis.
"And here I was thinking fucking Khe Sanh was a rough slog." Bill grumbled.
Francis grunted in surprise as Louis started struggling in his arms. "I can walk Francis. I need to walk."
"Alright, alright. Jesus!" Francis carefully let Louis down. The man's jaw was shaking as he gingerly placed all his weight on his good leg, leaning on Francis as he did so. A small whimper of pain crossed his lips, but he was otherwise stoic.
"I can…" he tried to force out. He took a shuddering breath and tried again, this time more realistically. "I just need…a hand." he said, almost shamefully. Francis helped Louis limp as quickly as possible up the stairs and through another door to the generator. Each of them thanked the Gods above that this last one was inside, giving them some shelter from the infected.
Whatever he was feeling in his leg, Louis' hands worked just as well as ever. He only took a few seconds to work his magic, and get the final generator up and running. He merely nodded determinedly in acceptance of everyone's praises.
"How's the knee son?" Bill asked, his grandfatherly voice returning momentarily in their brief respite.
Louis laughed humorlessly. "I left my knee back there. This is just a sack of meat between two long bones."
Francis waved at him dismissively. "Ah, don't worry about it. I can set it once we're on that bridge." The other three survivors had been shocked to learn some weeks earlier that while Francis had been in prison a few years before, he'd been on the trustee list for good behavior, and had been allowed to help out in the prison infirmary. He'd picked up a lot of tricks there, and he'd quickly proven himself an able medic for the group.
Louis joked, "Yeah, I don't think duct tape and engine grease will work on this bad boy."
"Fuck you."
"I think I saw a machine gun up on the bridge." Zoey recalled. "If we can get you to that, you can lay down some serious fire for us."
"Yeah." Louis brightened considerably at the prospect of being an asset rather than a burden. "Let's do it!"
"Getting there should be fun." Francis pointed out.
Bill looked between the other three, taking in their ammunition levels and who had what on them. He turned to Zoey. "Can you take him?" he said, nodding his head at Louis.
Zoey nodded. "I got it. Just stay on my left side." she said to him. Zoey was their best one handed pistol shot, after all the range time with her father. Louis shuffled off Francis' shoulder and over to her.
"I can still shoot." he said determinedly.
"It's only a hundred yards to the bridge. We've made farther distances in worse scrapes than this." Bill said encouragingly. He neglected to point out that Louis would have a hell of a time getting up the ladder. "Once we're up there, we can take as long as we need to rest. Across the river, it's a straight shot to the Keys."
Zoey and Francis shared a look. Zoey looked anything but convinced. Francis, on the other hand, shrugged and said grimly, "Well, the more shit you die dealing with, the bigger the Goddamn hero you are. And I, for one, am gonna die one big Goddamn hero!" She smiled faintly at the joke, trying to let herself be amused. But all she could feel was dread.
I wish you were here dad.
"You guys ready?" Bill asked. He stepped carefully over to the door. It seemed the Tank had gone off to join its fellow in looking for a new way to get at them, and the more mundane zombies had forgotten them entirely. Francis reached into his pocket and pulled out his last Molotov cocktail. He pulled the cap off the bottle and thoroughly soaked a rag in the alcohol before stuffing it into the neck of the bottle.
"Hell yes."
Bill led the way out the door, crouched down slightly and peering around for what had only minutes before been raging at them. Zoey followed, her pace slowed by Louis hanging off her shoulder. He was trying, really, but his knee was a mangled mess. Zoey wondered at how he even managed to stay conscious, let alone how he managed not to be screaming in pain. She'd certainly underestimated the man.
Francis came last. As he walked through the door, he turned around and walked backwards. He tracked his shotgun up and down the building, searching warily for anything and everything. "See anything?" he whispered.
Bill shook his head. "Just regular zombies. Where the hell are the Tanks?"
"This is too creepy." Zoey said. She followed close behind as Bill stepped onto the street. He angled over to the bridge, all the while hoping that all he'd have to do to lower it was press an easy to find button. "What do you think Francis?" He didn't answer. "Francis?"
Francis surprised her by actually shushing her. He carefully watched the shadows behind the building. He could have sworn he'd seen movement. Then he nearly lost control of his bowels as he realized it wasn't a shadow that was moving. The Tank was hiding in the dark, waiting for them. Now it was watching, like a cougar, stalking its prey, letting them know they were dead.
He vaguely recalled a line from that one dinosaur movie: It's vision is based on movement. Maybe if they kept still, it wouldn't be able to see them. It was certainly something they hadn't tried before. "Everyone. Stop. Moving." he said slowly, forcefully.
Bill scoffed. "Stop moving? Francis, what the hell have you been drink-"
"Stop. Moving." he repeated. The three of them stopped, sensing the tension in his voice.
"Francis, what is it? Oh." Bill's voice dropped off as he noticed the Tank as well.
Zoey cursed quietly, then whispered, "Do you think it can…see us?" The Tank responded with a low, menacing growl. "Umm…"
Then their vision was drawn upwards as, on the roof, the second Tank slowly peeked over the edge. Its shadow was so large, it left the survivors in darkness all on its own. It only stared at them for half a second before it inhaled, then let out a massive bellow. The second Tank joined it.
"Fuck it. Run!" Francis yelled.
The four of them turned and ran as fast as they could. Louis pushed himself, struggling not to scream, instead emitting a sort of hoarse moan. Zoey tried to lift him off his bad leg a little higher, but was distracted as a renewed horde of zombies attacked. Behind them, Francis tried desperately to light his Molotov as both Tanks charged at the same time. His hands were shaking so badly, it took him half a dozen times to even strike his Zippo.
The Tank from the rooftop landed right beside its charging fellow and both ran at the survivors, screaming bloody murder. Francis finally managed to light the vodka-soaked rag, and threw it at the Tank's feet. It shattered, coating them both with burning alcohol. They reared up in pain and anger, flailing their arms. The one on the left smashed its fist into the other, incurring an indignant smack in return. This prompted both to stop chasing the survivors to exact revenge on each other, giving a moment of respite.
Bill finally reached the bridge gate, a trail of zombies lying dead behind, thanks to his, Zoey's and Louis' handiwork. He was right; there was indeed a control panel. Among the knobs and buttons was a single rocker switch labelled Gate, with an up and down indicator on opposite sides. He mashed his thumb on the down side, and was rewarded was a screech of metal. The 12 foot tall rusted metal barrier dropped halfway, stopped, then slammed into the pavement of the bridge.
"We're on! Let's move!" he cried. He and Zoey struggled to get Louis up the narrow ladder. Eventually they resorted to Bill pulling from above while Zoey pushed his good leg from below. Francis kept them covered from the zombies who were drawn by the sound of the gate falling.
Zoey ran up next to him, her work complete. "Where the hell are they all coming from?" Francis asked rhetorically.
"I know, right?" Zoey replied. "This town has a population of like 14 thousand, doesn't it?" Zombies kept coming by the dozens. Francis shot a dense cluster of them, two shells full of double-aught buckshot ripping through the rotten corpses like tissue paper.
"The Tanks are coming!"
Both Francis and Zoey stopped firing at Louis' warning. They looked over at where they'd left the Tanks, hoping against hope that Louis was wrong. He wasn't. Both tanks were coming now, having long since been doused by their scuffle. Now their skin was charred black, making them even more terrifying, and both were charging full tilt at the two survivors on the ground. Francis and Zoey began backing away slowly.
A whirring sound caught their attention. They looked up just as Louis opened up on the Tanks with the M134 Minigun mounted on the bridge. It put out a devastating 100 rounds of 7.62x51mm ammunition every second; a devastating amount of firepower. The bullets ripped into the Tanks, tearing chunks of burnt flesh right off them. Both Tanks slowed, and one raised its arm in front of its face to protect itself.
"Hurry up you two!" Bill called. They didn't need to be told twice. Francis waited at the bottom while Zoey let her rifle hang on its sling and began to climb the ladder. He followed immediately after. Suddenly he heard a sort of heavy splash, and he felt heat from below him: a Spitter. The ladder below him was covered in sick green acid, and starting to melt.
"Go, go, go, go, go." he said hurriedly to Zoey. The acid was following him, eating away at the ladder. She looked down, saw what he was talking about, and picked up her pace. Bill helped her haul herself up to the top, then Francis. They both laid down for a few seconds to catch their breath.
"Fuck…this…shit." Francis panted, his chest heaving.
"Party ain't over yet." Bill said. He hauled the larger man back to his feet. "We still need to raise the bridge." One Tank was dead, and the other had retreated to safety, howling in frustration that it was unable to reach its quarry, but there were still plenty of regular threats on the horizon. Louis directed his fire over to the Spitter, chewing it up in only half a second. All pain in his leg forgotten, Louis let out a savage cry of victory.
Zoey had taken it upon herself to raise the bridge. As the youngest of the untrained three, she had the most reasonable expectation of success, rather than confused button-pressing. To her credit, she did manage to find the right button in the mess of switches. She even remembered that you had to twist and pull out the red emergency stop button before anything would happen. She was struck, however, with a problem no one could have anticipated. As soon as she pressed the 'Raise' switch, the green light on the top of the board turned yellow, and nothing happened.
She pressed it again. Then she hit the emergency stop, pulled it back out, and tried again. Still nothing. "Son of a-Louis!" she shouted, aware that Louis was occupied, firing a weapon that was quickly running out of ammunition. She had to get his attention. "Louis!" He turned. "The bridge isn't moving!"
"What? Why?" he yelped. She gaped wide-eyed at him.
"Because I didn't call it back this morning, I don't fucking know! I pressed the button and the little green light turned yellow!"
"Yellow? What…" Louis' face scrunched in concentration as he thought back to the minimal knowledge he had. He looked around, and noticed that some of the street lights that had previously been lit were out. Specifically, the ones right in front of the bridge. Then his face lit up with realization, and just as quickly fell again. "Oh shit! Too much power usage at once tripped the breaker on the primary generator! Someone needs to start it up again!"
"Start it-that generator?" she demanded, pointing at the one right next to the machine building, where most of the zombies were congregating.
"Yes!"
Zoey cursed. "Bill!"
"I heard!" the old man replied distractedly. He continued to pour fire down with his M16, but there were just so many, and he kept having to stop to deal with Special Infected before they could become a problem. Smokers and Spitters were the most dangerous, as they could strike from a distance, and they did so with alarming frequency. He was the only one apart from Zoey with a weapon capable of reaching those distances.
Zoey ran up to the railing on the other side of Louis. She fired a few shots into the horde, then began to strip off her extra weapons, explosives, and anything that would weigh her down or give the zombies a handhold with which to grab her. She'd have to be damn fast to make this work.
"I'm gonna go restart the generator!" she announced.
"No!" Louis interrupted. "You need to reset the breaker first Zoey!"
"Where is it?" Bill demanded. He was getting a look in his eye, though no one noticed it.
Louis explained, "The little black button on the left side, near the bottom! Just smack it to reset the breaker! Then restart the generator!"
"Understood!" Zoey prepared to climb down the other ladder, the one farthest from the generator. She took a few deep breaths, and she thought she may have even said a little prayer to steady her nerves. Just as she put a hand on the ladder's top gate, she was interrupted.
"Don't move kid! I've got this one!" Before she could even ascertain what Bill meant, the old man stepped back from his firing position and quickly began to descend the ladder.
"Bill, no!" Zoey cried out desperately. Going down there alone was suicide, though she had easily passed over that fact when she was the one going down. Louis and Francis called out for Bill to stop as well; Francis was torn between dragging the old man back up and continuing to fire.
"Cover me!" Bill shouted. They had no choice but to comply.
They watched in horror as Bill climbed down the emergency access ladder they hadn't been able to reach from the ground, and which was now further shortened by the effects of the Spitter's acid, let his legs hang down, then dropped the last 12 feet to the ground. His special forces training kicked in; he kept his feet together and rolled with the landing, managing to avoid broken legs. But it was still a big drop, and he wasn't a 22 year old paratrooper anymore. It took him a second to recover; a second he didn't have.
A single zombie managed to sneak through the covering fire and pounce on his neck, sinking its teeth into the wrinkled flesh. He cried out in pain and anger, and tried to fight it off, to no avail. It wasn't until Zoey managed to get a bead on it, even with her shaky hands, and put a burst into its back with her assault rifle that he managed to get free. Bill heard her screaming with rage and horror as she fired. He put a hand to his neck to staunch the bleeding. He knew it was too late though, and his heart sank.
He steeled himself, no longer thinking of his own life, but those of the people he'd sworn privately to protect with the very life he knew was about to end. "Just…need…the generator." he grunted, picking himself up off the ground.
"Bill! Get back up here!" Zoey cried. Bill ignored her. Only one goal now in his mind.
Bill lurched around the chain link fence towards the generator, already feeling the effects of blood loss. Zombies dropped left and right around him, and his path remained clear as his friends dedicated the entirety of their concentration on covering him. Francis had taken up Louis Uzi, managing to provide something approaching accurate fire.
Up above, Zoey was on auto-pilot, her father's range lessons coming back to her on an unconscious level. With Bill, of all people, needing her protection, she shot worthy of a Marine Sniper School honors graduate. Every pull of the trigger sent a short, controlled burst into the head or upper chest of one of the infected.
Even so, she could do nothing but watch helplessly as Bill made it to the generator, only to be set upon by a dozen of the damn things. She was forced to be slow and deliberate in her sniping, lest an errantly sprayed round hit the very man she was trying to protect. So she made deliberate, single shots to the head of every zombie. It was too slow. Louis kept up a solid stream of bullets across the gate to the enclosed generator area, at the very edge of the swing of the minigun. But the zombies went around, coming out from within the machine building itself. Zoey flinched as she heard Bill's strength finally break, and he screamed in agony as he was bitten and torn at again and again. But the lights above the generator flickered, and they could all hear it come to life once again.
When they finally managed to clear the zombies from the area, the sight made Zoey's breath catch in her chest. Bill was kneeling on the ground, one hand holding his rifle, the other resting limply on the generator's starter button. There wasn't an inch of clean skin on him; he was soaked in blood and bile and necrotic fluids from his attackers. The other three survivors froze at the sight, unable to tear their gaze away from the grisly scene. Then, to their surprise, Bill began to stand. Despite the multitudinous cuts and gashes covering his body, he was still alive.
Around the corner, the last remaining Tank returned, ambling towards him almost casually, like it was playing with him. It knew just as well as Bill did that there was no escape for the elderly human. It could afford to take its time; it was well outside the swing radius of the minigun, and Zoey and Francis didn't possess the firepower to take it out. Bill watched it approach with a resigned expression. His friends on the bridge yelled and pleaded with him to make a run for it. He didn't even try. He was determined to go out with some final shred of dignity.
No, he thought suddenly, not just dignity. If I'm going out today, I'm gonna take as many of these bastards with me as I can. His mind went unbidden and recalled a similar scene over 30 years previous, where he and his best friend had escaped from the Hanoi Hilton. Tom had been wounded during the escape, but he'd hidden the full extent of his injuries from Bill until finally, he just couldn't go on any farther. Bill had felt like shit leaving his friend behind with a brick of Russian plastic explosives, but he was emaciated after six weeks in captivity, and he just didn't have the strength to fight the man's dying wish. And when he'd heard a massive explosion back in the jungle a few minutes later, he'd known exactly what had happened. All he had today was his assault rifle, but damn if he wasn't going to do as much damage with it as he possibly could.
Bill hefted his assault rifle, a lot harder than it had been before, and turned to face the Tank in full. For the first time in his life, he did what he'd spent so many hours chewing out raw recruits for doing. He fired on full automatic from the hip. He bellowed his war cry with the time-honored rifle until his voice was gone. When it ran dry, he drew his combat knife, made peace with his God for the last time, and charged.
The survivors watched helplessly as Bill attacked the Tank. The behemoth was so shocked, Bill actually managed to get up to it. He sank his knife into its chest and held on tight as the Tank flailed. He was flung away and smashed into the generator, slumping to the ground in a broken heap, where he was instantly set upon by a Hunter. It was over in seconds.
Barely able to see through her tears, Zoey turned from the spectacle and ran up to the control panel. She hit the switch again, and was rewarded with a jolt as the gate heaved shut, and the bridge began to rise into the air, a final gift from the man who'd skilfully led them through hell and back again for weeks on end, with no rest in sight. Below them, the Tank roared in victory and stomped away, leaving them with a few dozen zombies too stupid to accept that the survivors were now inaccessible, and the grisly scene of Bill's corpse sprawled against the generator.
Zoey leaned against the wall and slid to the ground, tears flowing freely now. She covered her mouth with her hands and tried in vain to stop. He's gone…he's just…oh, God, Bill. First dad, now you. What… Zoey was lost.
Francis walked up cautiously beside her, a bleak expression on his face. But seeing her eyes full of tears, his plan to comfort her went out the window; her despair was infectious. He simply sat down across from her. "You old bastard." he said, not really to Zoey. "You really did it old man. Shit, looks like I owe you another one."
"We can't just leave him!" Louis said frantically. "He's still…he's still down there! We can't just-"
"He's gone Louis." Zoey despaired. "He's not coming back. We've lost him."
**Alas, our noble friend Bill has fallen, as he does canonically in the game. I had to take some creative liberties in a number of places, simply to get around decisions that were made by Valve for game balancing purposes, or because story was of secondary importance to them.
I've made Tanks slightly less berserk, and more capable of thought (slightly) than they are for the 30 seconds you see one in a game. They need to have some cunning; I think that makes them even more terrifying. Also, the existence of hordes, while excellent for gameplay, just isn't feasible in real life. The size of a horde is directly correlated with the population of the town in which the horde gathers. The only exception is areas that became evacuation centers, which would naturally have a disproportionate number of people. And I've made the zombies fairly similar to the zombies from World War Z (great movie), including something of a lead up in alerting them and getting their attention, rather than an instant on/off thing.
You'll note in this chapter that my descriptions may have been less than accurate in terms of the environment. This is the only place you'll see this, since this is the only chapter occurring in an area covered by the game. From this point forward, things should occur in original environments.
Please keep reading and reviewing.