Chapter 5: Say Cheese
It was only a few more steps before Chuck was walking up to Colombian Roastmasters yet as he drew nearer he heard the moans of a zombie followed by another man's voice.
"Ah yeah, that's it Kenny Boy! Work with me here!" the voice called out casually followed by the snapping of a camera, "That's it! Just a little closer! CLICK! Yeah, that's perfect!"
Chuck approached the cafe entrance and immediately his eyes widened.
Standing before him was a dark-haired man in a black blazer and charcoal slacks with a camera in hand, snapping pictures of a zombie staggering towards him.
"C'mon Kent! Just a little closer," he said to the zombie, who had once been a young man with spiked up auburn hair and a camera strapped to his back, "Oh yeah, you're giving me some good material here! Keep up the good work!" he said to the zombie managing to keep a safe distance between himself and the undead photographer with every picture snapped. "You're gonna make me some big bucks here!" the photographer chuckled while using one of the circular tables to keep the zombie called 'Kent' at bay.
"Excuse me!" Chuck called out.
The photographer did not immediately reply to him, instead still focusing on the zombie.
"Thank you Kent. You've been fantastic!" the man spoke, putting extra emphasis on 'fantastic' before driving his fist into the zombie's gut and tearing out his intestines with a mighty tug, much to Chuck's disgust. The man looked down to his watch before walking over to the former motocross champ with an ear-to-ear grin.
"You're just in time, pal," the man said casually extending his still blood-soaked hand, "The name's Frank West. We might as well get acquainted now because pretty soon the whole world's gonna know it when I get the ultimate scoop. You can say you knew me before I got big."
Chuck stared at the man's hand in disgust and backed away when he extended it further into his personal space.
"Damn it Otis. What the hell did you talk me into?" he asked himself knowing he already did not like the vibe this man was giving off. "No way in hell I'm telling him about the security office."
"Uh never mind...I was just heading out of here," Chuck said backing away from the clearly insane photojournalist as a small group of zombies rounded the corner. Before he could take another step the man's crimson hand was gripping onto his jacket's sleeve.
"What's the rush? Stay and help me capture history here!" Frank said raising his camera and snapping a few pictures of the approaching horde.
"Buddy, if you haven't realized those are flesh-eating zombies!" Chuck said raising his spiked bat in anticipation of a battle. "Are you insane?"
The photojournalist chuckled darkly, "Can't do that. Not when I'm sitting on a goldmine here."
"Christ, this guy's worse than Rebecca!" he told himself.
"Screw this shit," Chuck said charging towards he group and swinging his spiked bat, sending one of the zombies flying backwards before leaping into the air and performing a jump kick that sent one of the zombies flying backwards into the nearby SporTrance sporting goods store and then another that sent a third zombie flying into the nearby wall with a sick splat. He then ducked low and executed a foot sweep that knocked a walking corpse from its feet and finished it off with a curb stomp before he pummeled the last two into hamburger meat.
"Yes!" Frank shouted enthusiastically pumping his fist into the air, "Those were amazing shots! You really know your way around a zombie or two...or in this case six. Pal, you've gotta work for me. I'm serious. You could be my model!" he cried out before stopping and motioning towards a non-existent marquee "Think about it, your name being acknowledged as one of the great heroes of the 'great Willamette zombie apocalypse,' covered of course by yours truly," he said pointing to himself with his thumb.
"Who the hell runs around taking pictures when there's people dying all over the place?" Chuck shouted angrily.
Frank simply laughed.
"My friend, being knee deep in death and destruction is like second nature to me. I've covered wars ya' know?" the photojournalist boasted before again extending his hand, "So whatta ya' say? You in? You help me and I help you."
This man had gone insane and it left Chuck wanting to knock his block off right then and there. Instead he shook his head.
"I don't have time for your sick games. I have innocent people to protect," he said turning on his heel and walking away.
Frank West narrowed his eyes at the ex-motocross racer, insulted beyond belief.
"Who does this guy think he is?"
Chuck was almost at the stairs when he heard the cocking of a gun behind him.
"Say cheese!"
Chuck instinctively rolled out of the way, straight into the Lady About Town clothing store, just as the bullet whizzed past him.
"You were right Chuck. This guy's just another psycho," he told himself as another bullet impacted the wall just to the left of his head.
Frank entered the store with a look of sheer madness in his dark eyes, firing another bullet that struck the shelf which the racer had taken cover behind.
"You can't run and you can't hide!" the scorned photojournalist shouted leaping into view and delivering a roundhouse kick that caught his prey in the stomach, sending him flying backwards into a rack full of handbags.
Chuck felt the fresh wave of pain shooting up and down his spinal column but before he could attempt to roll over he felt his legs being grabbed and next thing he knew he was in the air being spun around repeatedly, then there was the sense of weightlessness, followed by the shatter of glass as he went flying through a store's display window and then the sickening splatter as he collided with a wall of zombies.
"Ha! I knew watching 'Saturday Night Slam Masters' would pay off!" the photojournalist taunted, the victim falling to his giant swing. "Now for the drama of a man's last few seconds of life," he said readying his camera.
By now Chuck Greene was experiencing the worst physical pain ever felt in his life. None of the spills endured during his days on the motocross circuit could compare to what the insane photographer had just done to him. He was literally thrown through the air like a rag doll and found himself lying in a sticky crimson substance, the blood of the zombies he had collided with after crashing through the jewelry store's display window.
What was worse, there were more zombies still standing and they were closing in on him.
"Damn it," Chuck grunted as he pushed himself back to his hands and knees, struggling to maintain his balance in the sticky pools of coagulated blood before grabbing onto the nearby counter and pulling himself back to his feet. He could hear Frank's strident laughter in the distance and ducked back down, but not before grabbing the cash register.
The laughter did not cease as Frank West walked into Marriage Makers, stopping only briefly to admire some gems in a nearby display case before approaching the front counter.
"Now to think of what I'm going to call this picture when I'm hanging it proudly on my wall," the photographer wondered aloud.
"How about 'Smile Pretty Shithead?'" Chuck Greene shouted springing back to his feet and slamming the cash register into his stalker. With his opponent stunned, the furious father vaulted over the front counter and delivered a front drop kick that sent the madman flying out of the store and into a crowd of waiting zombies. There was no way in hell he would survive that.
"Score Chuck: 1 – Psycho Frank: 0," the victorious biker grunted before pulling out the apple Otis gave him and taking a bite, feeling his energy slowly returning to him as he devoured it whole.
"And I thought Rebecca was hungry for a scoop," Chuck said aloud as he made his way back into the corridor. There was no sign of the psychopathic photographer, only the cracked remnants of his camera, "Guess they had the bigger appetite."
Chuck was about to make his way towards the food court when he heard a woman's screams.
"Help me!"
That wasn't too far away from him. He exited the jewelry store and took a left down the corridor, eventually happening across a door next to Tucci's of Rome labeled 'No Admittance, Employees Only.'
Readying his gun, the former racer carefully edged his way into another large storage room, only to take cover behind a toolbox when he saw what was happening.
"Stop it! You're hurting him!" a brunette shrieked in horror as a figure in a maroon hooded sweatshirt pummeled away at a man tied down to a wooden chair with a crowbar.
"I will stop when I want to. Until then, shut your trap bitch!" the hooded man shouted, prompting further whimpering from the restrained woman.
"Aww, look what you did Derrick, you done went and hurt her feelings!" another thug called out in mock sympathy.
Chuck crept further towards the scene where altogether he spotted four looters, all wearing matching maroon hooded sweatshirts that had 'Willamette, Colorado' embroidered upon them in yellow letters and matching blue bandanas covering the lower portions of their faces.
In addition to the dying man tied to the chair there were three more battered corpses lying on the floor around him, two men and a lady. If he didn't act soon that woman was going to be next. Reaching over and grabbing a nearby fire ax he inched further towards the scene until he accidentally bumped a toolbox and sent it clattering noisily to the floor.
"So much for the subtle approach," Chuck told himself as the four hoodlums turned to face him. "Time for hero mode."
"Hey assholes, why don't you leave her alone?" he shouted to the hooligans.
The four thugs took in the lone biker and began laughing hysterically, "Why don't you mind your own business Gramps, or else you're gonna end up like the last wise ass here!" the leader called out turning the dead man's head towards Chuck so he could show off his brutal handiwork in an effort to intimidate the man.
"Look, why don't you let her go and you can have whatever else it is you want," Chuck said motioning towards the electronic goods present throughout the large room.
"Well, you're definitely gonna need a body bag when I'm done with you!" the lead looter threatened.
"Well, I am dying standing here wasting my time talking to you," the former champ retorted.
"Get him, boys!" the lead thug shouted charging after Chuck with his crowbar raised, only to take a horizontal swing to the gut from the biker's fire ax.
"You son of a bitch!" cried the second thug, armed with a tomahawk that he attempted to split Chuck's skull open with, only to be knocked backwards by a hard haymaker punch.
A third thug descended upon him armed with a sledgehammer, yet the former motocross racer raised the ax above his head and did a downward vertical swing that sliced the man's arm off, leaving him screaming wildly as blood gushed from the now severed stump until he fell over dead from blood loss.
"You're going down asshole!" shouted the last thug leaping towards Chuck and slashing at him wildly with his bowie knife, only for the former champ to raise the ax to block an incoming attack and then strike him in the face with the blunt end of his handle. With the attacker stunned, he grabbed him in a headlock and fell backwards driving his head into the ground.
"That the last of you wise guys?" Chuck asked.
On cue, the second thug rose back to his feet regaining his bearings only to fall again when Chuck tossed the ax at him end-over-end and it ended up in the man's skull.
With the looters defeated Chuck knelt down and picked up the last thug's bowie knife before making his way over to the woman, who again whimpered as he drew closer.
"Lady, relax. I'm not here to hurt you," he said taking the bowie knife and slicing through the ropes which bound her wrists together.
"Oh god, Jeremiah. No!" she sobbed running over and falling to her knees before the bludgeoned man in the chair across from her.
"Miss, I'm deeply sorry for your loss, but it's not safe here. Come with me, please. I can take you somewhere safe," Chuck said reaching down and extending his hand.
"Jeremiah thought this place would be safe," she replied looking at the dead man, "but then those bastards...they showed up and killed the others..."
"Ma'am, please listen to me. There is a security office not far from here. I promise you won't encounter any more of those thugs there. Please, come with me if you want to live," he said keeping his hand extended to the woman.
The woman sniffed deeply before reaching into the dead man's pocket and pulling out a golden locket. "Alright, please just get me out of here."
Chuck nodded and holstered the bowie knife, in addition to recollecting the fire ax and scooping up the sledgehammer and tomahawk used by the other thugs. The woman appeared frightened and it looked as if he would have to lead her back to the security office.
"Come on," he said taking her by the hand.
XXXXX
Following a bit of a struggle in the cramped quarters Chuck and the woman (whose name he had learned was Tamara) pulled themselves out of the ventilation shaft and back into the duct room, dusting themselves off before turning to greet Otis.
"Thank you so much. Please, my sister and niece are still around here somewhere. Find them please!" Tamara pleaded before making her way to the back.
"I will," Chuck spoke before turning to speak to Otis, "How's Katey doing?"
"Doing just fine. That Natalie lady you saved earlier has been watching over her. We found some coloring books so that's been keeping her busy," the old man smiled.
Chuck couldn't help but smile back.
He felt relieved his daughter was able to keep her head through this whole ordeal, acting like the typical Katey Greene she was before. Furthermore, he was happy there would be someone there to look out for her while he was away.
"That will be your job when you come back," he told himself.
His thoughts flashed to that psychopathic photographer and how he almost killed him back in that jewelry store.
"No, don't think like that Chuck. That bastard is dead. He won't bother you or anyone else ever again. You're not going to die here. You're going to come back for Katey and you're going to get out of here alive," he told himself before turning to Otis.
"Just keep doing what you're doing," he said before climbing back into the duct and making his way back into the mall.
XXXXX
Author's Note: And so concludes yet another installment of "Case Greene." Damn, I'm cranking these new chapters out faster than I expected. Can't believe it took me nearly 2 years to get this story updated!
Cloud Link Zero: Oh man, I bet you're gonna be so pissed off after reading this chapter.
For survivors rescued in this chapter:
Tamara Stein, 32 – She is originally from "Dead Rising 2" and was one of the survivors of the initial slaughter who made it to the Fortune City Safehouse along with Chuck, Katey and 5 other people I believe. The guy who died was supposed to be Jeremiah Eckland, one of the victims of the initial slaughter after Chuck completes "Terror is Reality."
Well I think that's everything for the time being so until then read and review as always! This is Metal Harbinger saying SPREAD THE SICKNESS, ONE MIND AT A TIME! \m/