One

TWO WEEKS AFTER THE FIRST INFECTION

"Never again," Zoey Harris whispered to herself as she climbed out of the sewage and onto the slick, discolored concrete canal. For an hour she had been trudging through the sewers under Fairfield, Pennsylvania, following the sound of voices and the echo of what she could swear was a radio in the tunnels.

Her iPod had long since run out of charge, and so she had been guided by the shafts of dull light that trickled down from the grates and manholes above. Every so often, the young woman heard a shuffle, a moan, or a growl that warned her that she was getting close to one or more of the infected. Since she had been forced to bludgeon her mother—no, she insisted to herself, she had bludgeoned the zombie that had once been her mother—Zoey had wandered the streets looking for evacuations.

But then the CEDA trucks stopped coming, and the ubiquitous relief workers were gone. The shelters fell one by one, at least one a day. Zoey had read the writing on the wall and followed a group of survivors underground—in this case, into the sewers. But they had disappeared into the darkness, leaving Zoey trying to feel after them with nothing but her blood-covered poker and an iPod for light. And then the iPod had died, and Zoey was left alone in the dark.

"I don't care what's going on in the streets, I'm never going into the sewers again. I'd rather be pulled to bits by the zombies." Zoey continued grumbling to herself as she walked along the canal. She fell silent as she caught another voice up ahead; it sounded like at least two men. "Hello?" she called.

Only the echo of her voice off concrete and the grumbling of a few zombies behind her. They must've been alerted to her presence, because she heard the shuffle of movement in the sewer. Zoey's grip on her fireplace poker tightened and she crept along further. Her hand groped along the rough concrete wall until--

Smooth metal replaced the concrete. Was it a door? She slid the her hand across the smoothness until her hands came to a knob. She twisted it; it was locked. Cursing, Zoey raised her poker and bashed at the door several times until a satisfying 'clunk!' announced the separation of the knob from the door. She pulled the door open; weak red lights from emergency bulbs bathed the store-room.

Blinking, Zoey stepped into the storage room and pushed the door closed behind her. It was bizarre to see anything more than shadows after countless hours of uninterrupted blackness. She took a breath and looked around to see if there was something she could use to block the door. It would be nice to have a rest.

Several metal shelves lined the walls. Zoey examined them briefly, finding a red first aid kid on one shelf and a maglite flashlight on another. There was nothing else of value, only a few five-gallon buckets of paint. Zoey gripped one of the shelves and pulled it towards the door; the horrible shrieking sounded exceptionally loud after so long in near-silence.

From a stack of spools in the corner, Zoey heard a voice murmuring. It sounded like, "What was that?"

Zoey grabbed her poker in one hand and snatched the flashlight off the shelf. She clicked it on and was pleasantly surprised when the beam shone across the room. "Hello?" she called softly. Her voice was muffled by the concrete. "Who's there?"

There was a scrape. Zoey stepped back as the spool slid back on the floor. Zoey shined her light at what she now recognized as a hole in the wall behind the crates. "Get that damn light outta my eye," barked a scraggly old man as he scrambled out of the hole. "Let's see ya, kid, been bit?"

"What?" Zoey demanded, her eyes following the older man as he began to walk around her. He was wearing a green jacket and a beret; even in the sewer he was chewing on a smoking cigarette. "Uh, no, I'm not bit."

"C'mon, Bill, leave her alone." Zoey spun to see a well-dressed (or...would be well-dressed before the apocalypse, she imagined) black man climbing out of the hole. "I'm Louis. Y'all right, Miss?"

"Zoey," she said, turning back to face Bill. "I'm fine. Are you... I mean, from the army?" she asked Bill, then turned to Louis to see his shirt and tie. "And CEDA?"

There was a bark of laughter, and Zoey turned again to see a third man straightening from the hole in the wall. His black jeans, studded belt, wifebeater shirt and black leather vest were spattered with blood and what Zoey certainly hoped was mud. "We're not that lucky, girlie. Bill here hasn't worn a uniform since 'Nam and Louie worked at the Grab'n'Go."

"I was the manager," Louis said importantly.

"Cut the crap, Francis, we've got to get moving." Bill glanced towards the door. "You came that way? What's the situation?"

"Uh," said Zoey. "Zombies."

"No kidding," said Louis as he hooked his thumb towards the hole they had emerged from. "That way, too. Thank God for this." He held up his sub-machine gun.

"Where are you headed?" Zoey asked, tearing her eyes from the gun. She rested her poker over her left shoulder and glanced to Bill, who seemed to be in charge.

"We heard some kind of announcement. They said there was still an evac out of Mercy Hospital," said Bill. "We were trying to find our way through the sewers to the hospital, but I think we're lost."

"You can't get there from here," said Zoey. Bill raised an eyebrow at her, and she explained, "I heard my dad talking about it a few years back. There are two sewer systems in the city. The old city and the new city. We're in the old city; Mercy is in the new city."

"Ahh, horseshit," Bill snarled. "We'll have to head up."

"Up? But...there's vampires up there!" exclaimed Francis.

Louis and Bill snapped, "They're zombies, Francis."

"Whatever the hell they are!" shouted Francis.

"Shh," said Louis. The four fell silent. Zoey cocked her head to the side and held her breath.

A skittering, scraping sound erupted from the hole where Bill, Francis, and Louis had emerged from. "What's that?" she moaned, though she already knew the answer.

"Horde," snapped Bill. She shoved her out of the way and pulled his assault rifle from his back. The three men shoved the spool back in place just as the skittering became a dull roar. Louis pulled the shelf down against the spools as Bill turned to the door. "Go to the nearest ladder. This is going to get ugly."

The men pulled the shelf down and stacked it against the spools. "I hope that holds," said Louis nervously while Francis pushed the door open and stepped back onto the sewer canal outside the door.

"Hey, girlie, you armed aside from that stick?" Francis asked.

"No," she said, slinging the first aid kit over her shoulder as she followed Francis onto the canal. She shined her light to the left; a blood-covered zombie snarled in the beam. Francis pulled her back by the sleeve, whipped a pistol from the front of his jeans, and put a bullet between the undead's eyes.

"Careful," he said quietly. "Here." He flipped the gun so that he held the barrel and extended the butt to her. "Know how to use it?"

"Uh, not really," said Zoey.

"It's easy. The safety is off. Point and shoot. Just like a video game. And I've got plenty of mags for it." He held out a pair of magazines. Zoey took them and slid them into her jacket pockets. She hefted the pistol, tested the aim, and flicked the LED light source that was attached to it on.

"Over here," Bill shouted. "Hey Francis, lookie here."

They turned to see Bill and Louis' beams of lights shining onto the canal several meters up. They hurried towards the other two to find Bill hoisting a shotgun. "Miss—you said your name was what again?" asked Bill.

"Zoey," she said. "Zoey Harris."

"Do you know how to use on of these?" Zoey shook her head, and Bill thrust the weapon towards Francis instead. "I know you do. Here." Even in the dull light, Zoey could see Francis' eyes light up. He took the weapon and a bag of shells, then pulled his other pistol from his waistband and handed it to Zoey.

"There ya go, girlie," said Francis, stroking his shotgun happily. "I won't be needing that anymore."

"Up we go," said Bill. Zoey glanced over to where he suddenly shone his light; she hadn't seen the ladder there before. Bill began to climb up and stopped for a moment to push the manhole cover away. A moment later, he said: "We're clear. Zoey, you're next."

Zoey flicked the safety on Francis' pistols on and tucked them into her waistband before beginning to climb up the ladder. She pulled herself up and shined her light around covertly; they were in an alley between apartment buildings. They were in the old city residential area. A fire burned in the building to Zoey's left; Zoey thought she saw a pair of legs jutting from behind a dumpster. She shuddered and turned back to the manhole.

Louis and Francis emerged and Bill cocked his head towards the left. They began to walk, the only sound their footsteps.

They walked for several minutes, occasionally crossing another alley. Zoey didn't even think to ask if they were going the right way. She was so grateful to be in the presence of others that she was happy to follow wherever they were to go.

"Hold up." Zoey nearly ran into Louis as they came up short. She moved left to see what Bill was looking at, and immediately regretted it. She stifled a moan as she felt bile rise in her stomach; a green, diseased hand shot up from a pile of corpses; a ragged wound that looked like teeth-marks showed where the severed thumb had been. Around the pile, a green slime had pooled. Bill knelt down and touched it, rubbing it between his thumb and forefinger. "Ain't seen anything like this before."

Francis made a disgusted noise. "Jesus. Don't let that stop you from smearing it all over you."

Bill stood and absently wiped his hand on Francis' vest. His voice was impatient: "They're changing."

"Goddammit," Francis groaned, waving the air in front of his nose. "It stinks!"

Louis' indulgent chuckle was cut off by the sudden sound of crying. Zoey's head whipped to the side; a metal door stood ajar. "Someone's still alive," she murmured to herself. It sounded like a woman or child.

Bill turned to the door and opened it. Zoey followed closely after him, crouching down as he said, "Over there?"

"Hello?" Zoey flipped her flashlight on, shining the beam across the floor. "Hello? Hey, it's okay. We're gonna--"

A flash of lightning illuminated the room; Zoey recoiled at the sight of the witch. Bill put a hand on her wrist and pulled her arm down. "Lights off."

A growling groan erupted from the crouched creature. Zoey had an uneasy feeling about this. Outside, Louis turned, a curious look on his face as he heard sounds coming from up the alleyway. "Oh shit," he said. Francis turned and raised his rifle. Several zombies were running wildly towards them. They both opened fire. "Shit, shit, shit! They're comin'!" He turned to the room and shined his light through the doorway. "What the?"

The witch screamed. Zoey turned and shouted, "Run like hell!" Bill gripped Zoey's upper arm and hustled her out the door, slamming it as the witch charged towards them. There was a resounding thud and the door dented. Another thud created a larger dent, and a third broke the dent into a hole. Louis immediately began to shoot the witch. Zoey turned and aimed her pistols at the oncoming zombies. Behind her, she heard Louis shouting, "Do you like that?"

A scream and a gurgling moan announced the witch's death. Zoey saw a small device sitting discarded under a nearby dumpster. She knelt, picked it up and looked at it briefly. It looked to be some kind of explosive; she tucked it in her jacket pocket. Bill called over his shoulder, "Stick together!"

A gasping, rasping scream erupted from behind them. Zoey turned in time to see something wrap around Bill's shoulder, but the zombies rushing towards them took her attention. Bill shouted, and Francis turned to fire his gun up at the thing that had dragged Bill.

"Guys?" Zoey called over her shoulder; the zombies were getting thicker...and closer. Zoey holstered her guns and pulled the explosive from her pocket. A switch was located on a battery. She touched it and it began to beep. The zombies rushed at her.

It erupted into Smoke as Bill collapsed to the ground. Francis fired his shotgun into an attacking zombie, then turned and fired at another as it rushed towards Bill. "Merry Christmas."

Meanwhile Zoey had decided that she didn't want to be in possession of the bomb when it went off. She hurled it as far as she could. "Fire in the hole!"

The undead swarmed around it as the survivors ducked behind whatever they could. Louis was sent stumbling when the bomb exploded; he grunted at the heat, but was distracted when the chop-chop-chop of helicopter blades cut through the air. Waving his arms, he ran after it. "Hey! Hey, we're over here!" He ran into the street; Zoey was on his heels; Bill and Francis hurried after. Louis called: "We're not infected!" The helicopter disappeared into the distance. "Damn it!"

Zoey emerged from the alley just as a shadow pounced on Louis. Louis shouted as it began to claw at him. Adrenaline took over; Zoey ran at the creature and heaved her shoulder into it. It went sprawling and she pulled her pistols and began to shoot it. It stumbled, shuffled, and--

Louis fired at the hunter's head, sending its body crashing against the nearby abandoned car. There was a moment of silence, eerie and unsettling, and then the lights began to flash as the car alarm went off.

"This is gonna get bad," Bill moaned as he and Francis emerged from the alley.

Zoey's blood ran cold as a terrifying scream erupted from all directions. Zoey turned, stalking into the street. Shadows on the far buildings, and beyond the barrier behind them, were moving rapidly. The survivors turned around; Zoey had the distinct impression that they all knew that this would probably be the end. And then... a roar like an explosion sounded, and a hulking shadow appeared on the apartment building two blocks away.

The massive creature was faster, taller, wider than the other undead. Zoey watched as the sweep of its arm threw a handful of infected out of his path. She backed up instinctively, her hands going to her pistols. Moments later a car came rolling and crunching up the avenue towards them. "Run or shoot?" Louis demanded. Zoey shook her head. "Run or shoot?!"

"Both!" Bill barked, and pointed to an alleyway. Zoey looked over her shoulder as she ran between another pair of apartment buildings, followed by the three men.

Louis pointed at a fire-escape that was lowered to the ground. "Get to the roof!" he called. Zoey ran along a nearby pile of rubble and grabbed the ladder. She scrambled up and watched as the tank came barreling around the corner.

"Go, go, go!" shouted Francis and Louis began to climb up. Zoey moved to the third landing and began firing wildly at the zombies below them. Francis stopped, turned to shout at Bill, "Come on! Come on!" He was silenced when the tank threw an infected corpse at Francis. He sprawled and the tank ran at him. Bill aimed his rifle at the tank's face and opened fire. The tank growled and swung at Bill. He dodged out of the way, and the tank punched through a brick wall.

The distraction was enough. Francis climbed up as the tank recovered. It picked up a piece of rubble and hurled it at the fire escape. "Heads up," shouted Louis, and Francis jerked back in time to avoid being smashed by the rock. Zoey began to pick off the zombies as they rushed at Bill, who was reaching for the ladder.

"Go on!" she called at Bill. "I'll hold them off!"

She leaned over the railing as Bill scrambled up the ladder. The tank launched itself after him, but the old, rusted bolts that held the fire escape to the wall wouldn't support his weight. Zoey felt it shift under her; she gasped and steadied herself, shooting at the tank. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Louis help Bill over the wall and onto the roof.

The tank's hand reached up, towards Zoey; she cried out and turned, reaching for the wall, but the tank grabbed the fire escape. Zoey tumbled back, one of her pistols flying wild behind her. The fire escape screeched as it separated from the wall, and Zoey leaped from the fire escape.

I'm not going to make it. I'm not going to make it!

"Francis!" she half-shouted, half-whimpered as she leaped into the air. She reached for him, her fingers grasping--

He caught her with an easy confidence and pulled her up onto the roof. Zoey clutched her chest, panting heavily in the chilly November drizzle. She was covered in blood, she was cold and frightened and orphaned but, she considered as Francis helped her to her feet, at least she was alive.