Author's Note: I forgot to mention in the last author's note that the Denver Gold are meant to be a spoof of the Denver Nuggets.
Chapter 8: Psychopaths Galore
Night was falling, the bell tolling to signal the new hour.
For the former citizens of Willamette, Colorado lumbering about on the mall's grounds, another kind of change was brewing, one that would turn them from their formerly docile, yet still deadly shells, into something much more sinister and ravenous.
With the tolling of the bell, one particular citizen shambled about until he came to a sudden halt and he began convulsing violently. When the seizure concluded, his once milky eyes opened to reveal glowing red orbs...straight from the bowels of a man-made hell.
When the tolling concluded his undead brethren joined him, their glowing red eyes illuminating the darkness around them.
XXXXX
Chuck now stood at the doors leading to Leisure Park, having barely avoided the swarms of zombies still loitering about in Paradise Plaza.
Night was fast approaching and he had a sinking feeling forming in the pit of his stomach. He couldn't pinpoint the cause, but he had a dread feeling something was about to change for the worse and the darkening sky only added to the tension as he struggled to keep himself focused.
"C'mon Chuck, no time to chicken out," he whispered to himself holding his shotgun in clammy hands.
His objective was to reach the under construction North Plaza, where Otis had informed him of the presence of another gun shop called the Huntin' Shack, as well as both a supermarket, home center and cutlery shop, all of which could have much needed supplies. As it was anywhere in this accursed shithole, the place was bound to be crawling from top to bottom with more of those zombies.
But for some reason things started to feel different.
Pumping the shotgun, Chuck edged the door open and right away he felt the ball of ice within the pit of his stomach explode, sending a fresh chill coursing throughout his body.
The zombies. All of them, their eyes were now glowing blood red.
Chuck looked over to the clock tower in the center of the park to see that it was now just after 7 pm.
"Does the nighttime make them more aggressive?" he wondered aloud, not having much time to ponder as several zombies came rushing towards him.
He raised his shotgun and fired a blast into the chest of the closest zombie before waiting for two more to get close together and dropping them both simultaneously. A skinny woman approached and she would find herself split in half by a blast to the abdomen, her upper torso still clawing towards the former motocross champ before he finished her off with a curb stomp. A fourth blast rang out and a knife-carrying zombie's head was obliterated and following a fifth, an undead construction worker was sent flying backwards, taking two of his brethren with him. The sixth and seventh blasts were followed by former citizens of Willamette being torn to bloody shreds and the last blast ended with a man's heart being decimated.
Then the shotgun clicked empty.
"Damn," Chuck muttered as more zombies closed in, attracted by the shotgun's loud blasts.
There was no time to reload. He had to move.
He shoulder tackled his way past two of the zombies and then leaped in the air to drop another with a flying kick, the snarls growing louder in volume as he edged further along, feeling the wind from missed swipes and listening to the tearing of material as those who managed to get close enough tore into his uniform, yet thankfully not into the flesh beneath.
"Not tonight bitches," Chuck grunted pulling out his nightstick and shattering the jaw of a gangly man reaching towards him before spinning around to crack the orbital bone of a once beautiful woman in a tattered party dress. He continued his forward onslaught until he was coming to the steps leading to the North Plaza and it was then the nightstick finally snapped in half. There was no time to reach for his knife gloves or Defiler and he pushed his way through the doors.
The former motocross champ stepped into a plaza mostly under renovation, several of the zombies stumbling into the empty fountain in the center. In the distance he could see an overweight woman still pushing a shopping cart around and not to far from her was another man pushing a propane tank around on a dolly. He was tempted to shoot the tank, but the zombie pushing it wasn't close enough to others, thus resulting in minimal casualties.
"D-Don't just stand there! Kill those th-AAAAHHHH!" an unseen man shrieked, coming from within the Crislip's Home Saloon to his immediate right.
Chuck readied the Defiler and made his way into the hardware store to find another one of those looters being torn apart and nearby another making a futile attempt to fight off the approaching ghouls with just a nail gun before he too fell beneath the mass of decaying flesh. As he looked around the large store he found more clusters of zombies piled around tearing into unseen victims, perhaps more of those looters who had tried to make some kind of last desperate stand.
Unfortunately for Chuck, the zombies had taken notice of him and were beginning to close in.
Raising the Defiler he brought it down vertically onto one zombie, slicing deep into its neck and nearly decapitating it. He then spun around rapidly with the combo weapon extended to knock down several zombies at once and continued slicing and bludgeoning away at a manic pace until the mighty weapon snapped in two at the worst time possible.
"Damn it! Not now!" he grunted aloud as a a blond-haired male managed to close in on him and grasp his shoulders. He brought his boot up to kick the man away, only to find himself tackled to the blood drenched floor by another undead Willamette citizen that was just inches away from tearing out his jugular.
"You people-" he spat while placing his hand beneath the man's chin, "-are really starting-" he said finally moving his hands up and getting a firm grasp on both sides of his head, "-to fucking piss me off!" he screamed and with the psycho power coursing through his veins, managed to snap his aggressor's neck.
Tossing his attacker's corpse aside, the former motocross champ struggled back to his hands and knees in the pool of sticky blood which he lay, more zombies lurching towards him, again nearly losing his balance as he tried to sidestep a swipe from a balding man, using him as a springboard to get himself to a dry spot and landing conveniently next to a chainsaw.
"Time to rock n' roll," he said scooping up the chainsaw and pulling the cord, rewarded with a deafening buzz that had never before ever sounded so beautiful.
He looked up to see more zombies approaching, their eyes glowing like embers straight from the depths of Hell.
"Come and get me!"
The racer swung the chainsaw outward and what followed was a crimson flash as a line of former humans fell before him, followed by another as he spun his body and sliced another ghoul in half. He shot the blade outward and impaled another in a gory spectacle while shoving him backwards into another of his rotting brethren. He eventually sliced the offender in half and began waving the chainsaw's blade around wildly, seeing nothing but a red haze.
By the time the chainsaw had run out of gas Chuck found himself surrounded by a mass of dismembered body parts.
"Bryce Hammill eat your heart out," he chuckled when he heard a moan coming from behind him.
He turned around to find a lone survivor shambling towards him with its remaining arm extended.
"Come to join the party, huh?" he asked looking around for anything he could use to kill the zombie, finding a discarded shower head lying on the floor to his left. Scooping it up he stabbed it into the former human's head and watched passively as blood sprayed out until the monster fell over dead.
Enough fun and games. Chuck looked around the hardware store to see plenty of supplies that would have enabled any other survivors around the city to erect protective barricades within their homes and it made him wonder if a metal door welded shut alone would be enough to hold the zombies at bay, especially when they became more aggressive at nightfall.
There would be plenty of stuff around he could craft some crude combo weapons out of though and he grabbed a shopping cart, going down the aisles and grabbing a few boxes of nails, two power drills, a tin bucket, propane tank, fire ax, another sledgehammer, a pylon, can of spray paint, a saw blade and cement saw. With his little 'shopping spree' complete, he looked over to where another maintenance room awaited and put his plan into motion.
Shoving the over encumbered cart out of the hardware store, he was forced to travel through a patch littered with ample amounts of gore, again finding himself struggling to stay on his feet as he pushed through, having to stop at one point to deliver a haymaker to a zombie that had gotten too close for comfort.
"C'mon dammit," he grunted making his way over to the doors and forcing them open before reaching back to pull the shopping cart through and then shoving the doors shut behind him. There was a chain lying on a nearby shelf he scooped up to shackle the doors shut, listening to the pounding and scratching coming from the other side.
"Should buy me a few minutes at least," he said to himself as he quickly began to empty the cart and get to work.
XXXXX
It had taken Chuck a few minutes longer than expected, but he now had some badass new combo weapons in hand and he was ready to show them off at the zombies' expense.
"Time to do this," he whispered, the shackled double doors shuddering as the relentless zombies threw themselves against them, calling out for their fresh meal.
"Now or never, Chuck," he said pulling out his handgun and firing a round into the padlock and with a loud snap the chains fell to the floor and the zombies came piling in.
With a swing of his newly-crafted Defiler he knocked several zombies back at once before he fired up his drill bucket and slammed it down onto the closest ghoul's skull a torrent of blood spilling out from underneath as the drills shredded the zombie's skull apart.
"That's right, come to me you rotting bastards," he grunted pulling out the air horn he crafted from the pylon and can of spray paint, depressing the trigger and firing a deafening burst that managed to disorient a few of the ghouls while those closest saw their heads exploding immediately. When a path had been cleared through the massive horde he began inching his way through until he spotted a bright red sign with a large white arrow pointing him to the Huntin' Shack down the narrow hall.
"Score," Chuck smirked when he heard another pair of hurried footsteps coming from his left and turned with the air horn raised.
"Whoa man, don't shoot!" cried a brown-haired man in a green shirt with a scorpion design on it.
"What the hell are you doing here?" Chuck demanded, stopping to strike down another zombie with his Defiler, "Haven't you seen this place is crawling with the living dead?"
"I-I know man, but listen, I got separated from my group!" the man said looking at the Huntin' Shack sign, "We were trying to score some guns so we could defend ourselves. I heard this is where one of the gun shops was and I figured I'd run into them here!"
"Looks like we both had the same idea," Chuck said swinging the combo weapon to take down another zombie, "I was heading there just now."
"Great! Me too. I'm James by the way," the man said looking hurriedly around.
"Chuck, now come on," the motocross champ said leading the way, swinging the Defiler back and forth to drop a few zombies barring their way through the narrow hallway leading there.
"We're here," Chuck announced as they arrived at the front doors of the Huntin' Shack, a small shop kept away from the others with display windows on both sides showing off the goods within. The place appeared surprisingly untouched, unlike the High Noon Shooting Range over in Redfield Plaza.
"Alright, we should be good then," James said charging past him and making his way through the double doors, only to be halted by the pumping of a shotgun.
"Alright, that's far enough ya' varmint!" a Southern-accented voice called out, the smell of alcohol heavy on the owner's breath and wafting over towards the duo.
"I'm only gonna ask ya' this one time and ya' better be straight with me, boy! Who are ya' and what the hell are ya' doin' here in my store?" the proprietor roared, a tall, hunched over man in a Western-themed shirt with a dark, shaggy beard that made him look like a backwoods mountain man and a fire engine red nose that gave away his self-destructive habit.
"Mister please, we need guns!" James said taking a cautious step towards the towering mountain man.
"Ha! I ain't givin' you nothin'! I seen how you people are, second I give ya' somethin' you're gonna be robbin' me blind!" the man roared, his aim never wavering as Chuck watched helplessly in the background.
"Look mister, if we're gonna fight these zombies we need guns!" James pleaded, only for both of them to nearly jump out of their skin as the cynical proprietor fired a blast into the ceiling.
"Stay back!" he roared, "I trust them damn zombies about as far as I can throw 'em, but I trust people even less!"
"Don't shoot!" James pleaded frantically waving his hands around in front of him, "L-Let's talk this over!"
"You can talk to my 12-gauge," the man said keeping his smoking barrel trained on both men, "Don't get no closer or I'll blow y'all to kingdom come."
Chuck remained quiet in the background until he saw James taking a step forward.
"Hey, hang on."
Too late.
The xenophobic mountain man pumped his shotgun and fired another blast, striking James in the chest and sending him flying through the front doors.
Chuck stood in stunned silence before the big man turned his attention to him with a dark sneer. "Now, goddammit! I warned you...in a situation like this, I can't afford to trust nobody!"
The man again pumped his shotgun, but Chuck reacted quickly and dove for cover behind a display case before he took could be struck by a barrage of buckshot.
"Ya' ain't leavin' this place alive boy! Ya' might as well come out an' we can make it quick!" the deranged redneck shouted firing another barrage his way.
"No reasoning with this yahoo," Chuck grumbled to himself pulling out the submachine gun and sticking his arm around the case firing blindly, the shatter of glass and the splintering of wood following, yet no cries of pain to let him know he had hit the mark.
"Y'all gonna squeal like a pig when I'm done wit' cha!" he shouted back before firing three more times, forced to reload.
It was then Chuck made his move, standing up and firing a barrage that struck the big man three times, yet he only staggered backward.
"Whoo hoo!" the redneck gunman shouted, finding dark humor in being shot as he quickly ducked behind the counter and reloaded his shotgun. "These are my guns!" he declared before firing another barrage in Chuck's direction.
Again the former motocross champ found himself forced to roll out of the way of repeated shotgun blasts, the gun shop owner cackling madly as he fired away.
"Ol' Cletus gonna hang ya' high and skin ya' alive when this all over!" the madman shouted, "That'll teach ya' to come tryin' ta' rob my store!" he shouted firing a barrage which caught Chuck and sent him flying backwards into a display rack.
"Ahh! Geez!" he grunted as he hit the floor with a hard thud. The tactical vest had absorbed most of the blast, yet he could feel the coppery blood beneath his shredded material and it hurt like a bitch with every breath he took.
Still, he had to keep fighting and he reached in to pull out that frozen pizza he had grabbed from the food court. Oh how it sucked so badly he wouldn't have the pleasure of being able to eat an actual cooked pizza, but right now he couldn't afford to be picky and proceeded to scarf the pizza down as quickly as he could.
"Go time," he whispered pushing himself back to his feet and looked up to see the gun shop owner (Cletus apparently his name was) chugging from a wine bottle. Taking advantage of his lapse in judgment Chuck popped up and fired a burst into the drinking proprietor, only seeming to further enrage him.
"I'm gonna kill ya'!" he screamed, enraged at his drink being interrupted and he ran along to the other end of the L-shaped counter hoping to get a better shot at Chuck, who was again forced to barrel roll to the right to avoid another blast and then another as he waited for the deranged redneck to run out of ammo. It was then he closed in on him and struck him hard with the Defiler three times before finally falling to his knees.
"Damn!" the owner gasped collapsing onto the counter. He was beaten down, out of breath and covered in blood, barely alive yet still trying to escape.
"Damn, mister! C'mon now! Wh-What're you, crazy?" the defeated man whined pulling himself along behind whatever cover was available on his counter.
"You want...You want guns so bad...that y'all willin' to kill for 'em?" Cletus whimpered as he staggered out from behind the counter and tripped over his own feet as he pushed himself towards the front doors.
"Lemme go!" he cried wanting to get as far away from his victor as possible.
"Hey!" Chuck called out as the mountain man drew closer to the doors.
"Please!" Cletus bawled one last time.
"Hey, wait!" Chuck shouted a second time but again he was too late.
As the frightened shop owner pushed himself through the double doors he was met by James, now a zombie. The undead man tackled him to the ground and began to devour him, ignoring his final desperate cries as Chuck could only stand by helplessly, keeping his head down not wanting to look at the sickening scene taking place before him.
"Poor bastard," he muttered, finding it darkly ironic that Cletus had killed James, only for him to return the favor after reanimating. The realization left Chuck to wonder.
"He didn't die from a zombie bite. He was shot. Could it be possible that whatever is affecting these people makes it possible for a person to become a zombie regardless of whether or not they are bitten when they die?"
It made the former champ freeze in place and begin to shake uncontrollably.
"Could this...virus be airborne? If so, am I infected? Oh god, could Katey be infected too?"
Before Chuck could feel his bowels clench any tighter he was interrupted by the ringing from his transceiver. He quickly scooped it up, for once happy to hear from the elderly janitor.
"Chuck, are you there?" he called out, "You're still hanging around the North Plaza, right? There's someone hanging around the record store there. I don't know if it's a guy or a gal, but it's someone who still looks alive. You'd better check 'em out and see what's going on."
"Will do," Chuck uneasily replied before stuffing the transceiver away.
He took one last look around the shop and saw an empty duffel bag lying behind the counter. Remembering why he was there in the first place he scooped it up and went about his personal mission, gathering a few shotguns, a few handguns and even a scoped hunting rifle, plenty of ammo that could hold his group over for an entire week if necessary. With all the ammo he could carry gathered he made his way back to the entrance, stopping to observe the feast still taking place where James had now moved over to ripping Cletus' face off.
It was a gruesome sight, yet he still stared at the fresh zombie in wonder how he could have become like that despite not being bitten.
"Maybe he had a scratch I didn't see right away. Maybe it's something in the water. Who the hell knows," he thought to himself as he could hear more zombies approaching fast, drawn like moths to a flame by the gunfire.
Chuck stared uneasily towards the approaching horde and then quickly looked over his shoulder, the malaise turning to defiance.
"Well if I'm going to die I might as well make my time left worth something," he thought to himself before reaching onto the nearby wall and pulling the moose head off, pulling it over his head like a helmet. Getting down into a three point stance like a football player he made his charge, the antlers at the ready as he threw himself into the sea of living dead, goring several of the former Willamette citizens back to death in his wake. When a sizable swath had been cut through the mass he tossed the stuffed animal head aside and readied his Defiler.
"Come get some you bastards!" he screamed before swinging the combo weapon horizontally and sending one of the zombies flying backwards into another.
"You want some more?" he shouted swinging the Defiler sideways again and shattering the bottom half of another zombie's face and then swinging it upward to pulverize a ghoul's head from the bottom up before bringing it down on top of the head of a third. He then spun himself around to take down six charging monsters in one swipe.
The fatigue was beginning to set in though and he was forced to make an abrupt right dodge into a store under construction and make his way down a narrow hallway lined with back doors leading into the shops before he came to the door labeled 'CD Crazy,' where another small group of zombies congregated trying to get inside as 80's pop star Bibi Love's single 'Can't Get Enough of Me' piped in over the store's speakers.
"Of course that lousy racket would be enough to wake the dead," he thought to himself while trying to remain silent around the hungry dead.
Nevertheless, he needed to get to the bottom of what was happening and decided he would surprise whoever was holed up in that record store. There was a door to his immediately left that led him into an unfinished clothing store, only to find its gate lowered.
In addition, there was a man slumped behind the counter with a submachine gun held in his hands.
Still jumpy following the confrontation with Cletus, Chuck raised his Defiler in preparation to fight as the man looked towards him. He quickly lowered it when he noticed he was clad in full S.W.A.T. gear.
The officer stared silently towards him, almost as if he were looking past him at something that wasn't there.
"Uh, hey! Officer, are you alright?" Chuck asked waving his hand.
The officer did not reply, only looking away in shame before he muttered "They're all dead...all of them."
"Who?" the former champ said keeping his distance, remembering what had happened to James as he tried walking towards Cletus back at the gun shop.
"My friends...my colleagues...the people we swore to protect...they're all dead and gone!" the man shouted, "Everybody is dead," he finished in a weak groan, tears streaming down his face.
"No, they're not," Chuck said walking towards the officer, "There are still survivors. I've found a few and they're holed up back in the security office."
The officer laughed bitterly at his claim, "Ha! Yeah right! Those things are everywhere. I've seen it with my own two eyes. No place is safe from those freaks. It's only a matter of time before they find their way into here."
The defeated man then looked down to his submachine gun, "I've failed my duty to serve and protected the people of this fair town. Well no more. I'm not going to live in shame. I'm done with this shitty world."
The officer took a deep breath and placed the gun's barrel beneath his chin, ready to pull the trigger.
"No! Stop!" Chuck shouted running over and kicking the gun out of the man's hands, "Just stop it!"
There was a tense silence between the two men, interrupted only by their deep breathing. Taking a moment to compose himself the former motocross champion carefully chose his words before speaking.
"Believe me, there are people still alive and we've found a safe place to keep them," Chuck said kneeling down next to the cop, "You're job isn't done. If you come with me you can help protect them. You can have the chance to redeem yourself rather than taking the coward's way out."
Hoping to further emphasize his point Chuck pulled out the transceiver and hit the 'Transmit' button, "Otis, I've found a police officer still alive here in the North Plaza. He's gonna be coming with me to help out."
"Glad to know, kid. We definitely need all the help we can get over here," the janitor replied before the transmission ended.
"See what I'm talking about? There are still people left alive for you to help. If you come with me, you can do it," Chuck said rising back to his feet.
The officer looked at him quietly before slowly nodding his head and rising to his feet.
"You're right. Maybe I can still help out. If I'm still alive I can get some revenge on these rotting bastards, pay them back for killing my friends," the man said scooping up his submachine gun, "Count me in."
"Glad to have you aboard," Chuck nodded to the officer readying his own shotgun.
"Kristiansen, Officer Martin Kristiansen," the armored man answered.
"Good. Now come on. We've got work to do," Chuck said making his way back into the narrow hall and firing a blast into the crowd of zombies surrounding the record store's back door. It took three more blasts before the horde was thinned out and he approached the door, only to be cut off by a sudden grating rant from within.
"Thought you could go around sleeping with my Clancy behind my back, didn't you? You filthy whore!" the high-pitched voice shouted, followed by the sound of someone being slapped and then a woman's screams.
Chuck readied his submachine gun and quietly opened the door, ducking down behind a display shelf with the officer following suit. They crept along until they neared the front and they could see the store's shutter had been lowered with a swarm of zombies tugging away outside, trying to get in at the three fresh corpses lying before the entrance.
"What on Earth?" the former champ whispered catching a better glimpse at the bodies to see all of their throats slit from ear to ear and the corners of their mouths carved into exaggerated smiley faces, like something straight out of a horror movie.
"No...please don't!" the unseen woman cried out, "What did I ever do to you?"
"What did you do to me? What did you do to me? I'll tell you what you did to me you little tramp!" the man cried out and it was then Chuck crept around and finally caught a good glimpse of what was going on, finding himself sick to his stomach.
At the front of the room stood a tall, lanky man in a blood spattered Sunday dress and disheveled woman's beehive wig with a razor blade in hand, fresh blood still dripping from the blade. He stood tall over a young woman tied to a chair, her face covered in fresh bruises.
"My Clancy...my dear, dear Clancy," the cross dresser began, his back still to Chuck, "We've been married for 27 years. Such a wonderful husband he is. Oh my dear Clancy...how you've started coming in late at night, stumbling in like a drunken louse! My perfect Clancy...the stupid, drunken, two-timing, lazy worthless unfit father!"
It was then the deranged man wheeled around the woman on a pair of roller skates and grabbed her by the throat and shouting into her ear, "You tried to ruin our perfect family, you filthy whore! And for what? So you could have some pea-sized dick?!"
"Damn. I've seen some messed up shit in my life, but this takes the cake," Chuck thought to himself as he saw the man's face, covered in a piss poor makeup job that left both his bloodshot eyes looking blackened and his face even more wrinkled than it probably really was. Worse, he looked like the same circus clowns he had feared since childhood. Even crazier, the corners of his mouth had been carved into, giving him the same exaggerated grin as the bodies near the entrance.
"I-I-I don't know what you're talking about!" the woman cried, only to receive a backhanded slap.
"Lying, filthy whore!" the schizophrenic man screamed, "You ruined everything we had!"
The man then delivered another backhand to the helpless woman, who again could only cry out at the physical abuse, suddenly silenced as the blade was placed to her throat.
"Well now I'm gonna do to you exactly what he did to me," the man whispered, speaking from the perspective of the victim he dressed up as, "I'm gonna slice you up just like he did to me in the basement that stormy night!" he shouted, followed by a hysterical laughter that echoed throughout the plaza.
Chuck had seen enough and rose with his submachine gun raised.
"Well, oh my goodness!" the cross dressing man said taking notice of their new 'visitor,' "Well look what the whore dragged in! Are you some other random slut that's been sleeping with my Clancy behind my back?"
"Let her go!" Chuck demanded, only to be met by harsh laughter.
"So it is true, you whores all look out for one another! Well I'm gonna show you what happens when you try to break up the Vincents' marriage!" the man shouted brandishing his switchblade, "Kids, go up to bed! Your good-for-nothing father is home!"
A rattle of gunfire came from behind as Martin popped out and fired a barrage from his submachine gun at the deranged cross dresser, who rolled out of the way and performed a rolling flip over the front counter, emerging a second later with a bow that had an arrow strapped with dynamite attached.
"Oh shit," Chuck blurted out, rolling out of the way as the arrow flew past him only to explode a second later and send him flying hard onto his stomach in front of the imprisoned woman.
"Kids, go back to bed! Daddy and I are having an important discussion!" the crazy man called out before firing another arrow at Martin, the explosive bolt embedding in the wall behind him and sending him flying forth, scorching his riot armor.
Chuck felt the fresh waves of pain traveling through his body as he pushed himself back to his hands and knees, nearly bumping the tied up woman. He looked up and saw the fear in her dark eyes, both wide as saucers. He nodded silently in an effort to comfort her, assuring her that things will be alright.
Reaching to reclaim his submachine gun, the former champ found himself feeling only to thin layer of carpeting and cursed silently to himself. The rattle of gunfire and the explosions of the rigged arrows came from behind and he knew he needed to help his companion fast.
Hiding behind a rack lined with CDs he would have no other choice and scooped up a handful discs, popping out and tossing them at the deranged cross dresser like they were Frisbees, striking him more than once.
"I swear Clancy! If you hit me one more time I'm gonna take the kids and go to my mother's!" the madman shouted loading another explosive arrow and taking aim upon the former motocross champion, the woman likely to be caught within the blast radius if he didn't do something fast.
Luckily his submachine gun was nearby and he quickly scooped it up, taking aim and firing a volley at the drag queen that caused him to drop his arrow, which then exploded in his face and sent him flying backwards against the front counter.
"Gah! What did I ever do to you? I love you Clancy!" the drag queen bellowed in pain before suddenly charging at Chuck on his roller skates, the bloodied razor blade raised high into the air.
Chuck barely dodged a swipe from the madman and went for his Defiler, but it clattered to the floor and he took a swipe across the face for his troubles.
"That whore can't save you now!" Clancy shouted in his face as he went for another swipe, only to be cut off by another blast from Martin's submachine gun. The blast left the madman crying out in pain, giving Chuck the room to leap in the air and give him a drop kick that sent him flying over a CD rack.
"Don't think for one second this is over you drunken lout!" Clancy shouted, attempting to tackle Chuck with his razor blade held above his head. "The house! The car! The kids! I'm taking it all!"
The drag queen moved at him with lightning speed, aided in part by his roller skates, and the former champ was doing everything he could to dodge his swipes, but the man was quickly closing in on him and he needed to think fast.
Then he remembered that combo weapon he crafted from the cement saw and saw blade, a 'Ripper' as he called it.
Barrel rolling to his right Chuck reached for the Ripper and revved it up before delivering a few practice swings at the empty air before him. Unfortunately for his assailant, the man was too mentally disturbed to know the peril that would have awaited him and lunged for another attack, only to eat a high velocity blade for his troubles.
The drag queen let out a feminine wail, "I mean it Clancy! I'm not fooling around!"
Chuck was really getting tired of this guy's scratchy voice that reminded him of nails on a chalkboard and he went to bisect his opponent, but again the man's roller skates enabled him to get out of the way, but not before the former champ managed to inflict a deep rend upon his lower back, one which left the psychopathic man wailing in agony.
"No Clancy! Think of the kids! Think of the kids!" the demented cross dresser shouted as he stumbled towards the store's front gate, where the mob of zombies was growing rapidly in number with every passing second, all of them wanting to get inside at the fresh morsels. "I only ever wanted what was best for you, for us! It's the drink Clancy, think about what you're doing! Please!"
With every word Clancy Vincent inched closer to the gate, his hand outstretched towards the button that would raise it. Chuck wanted to scream at him to not do it, but the cross dresser was visibly off his rocker and would not have listened. He could only watch silently as the man fell against the button and with a tired groan, it began to rise. Having been deprived their meal for so long the zombies eagerly swarmed inside and enveloped the deranged man, who offered no resistance as they tore into him.
"Shit," Chuck muttered to himself.
He needed to get out of there fast, but he couldn't leave the woman alone and he quickly ran over and used one of the blades from his claw gloves to saw through the ropes binding her wrists behind her.
"Wha...no!" the dazed woman weakly groaned.
"Relax, I'm here to get you out of here," Chuck said lifting the woman into his arms and running over to Martin.
"Here, take her!" he said offering the young woman to the S.W.A.T. officer, who gladly accepted as Chuck scooped up the duffel bag full of guns and made a beeline for the backdoor. Hearing the moans of zombies in the distance he quickly withdrew his own shotgun and took point, squeezing the trigger and unloading a spray of buckshot into the nearest duo of walking corpses before leaping into the air and delivering a flying kick to the face of a gangly woman.
"Go!" he shouted to Martin and the officer ran past him as he grabbed another zombie and smashed the undead man's head into the nearest wall, splitting it open like a watermelon.
The red-eyed zombies were alerted by the racket and were rapidly descending upon the opening where Chuck stood. He looked ahead to see Martin dashing past the fountain and reaching the entrance, where he came to a sudden halt.
"Chuck!" he shouted, "Chuck! Come on!"
The former motocross champ remembered he still had one of his crudely crafted I.E.D.'s on him and tossed it to the ground before a large mass of oncoming zombies. Pumping his shotgun he fired a blast that struck the propane tank head on, resulting in another massive explosion that swallowed the nearest zombies whole and sent burning nails sticking into the heads and bodies of nearby stragglers.
"I'm coming," he called back to the officer, swinging his shotgun's stock into the fair of another zombie and blasting three more to kingdom come before reaching his companions.
The trio stepped outside into the nighttime air, rife with the stench of death and the ragged gasps of the zombies all around them, most of whom could hear the sound of the glass doors slamming shut and turned their attention towards the North Plaza entrance.
But the zombies would soon be the least of Chuck Greene's worries when he heard the revving of an engine, followed by gangsta rap music...
...and then the hyena-like laughter.
XXXXX
"Quick, get that fat broad over there!" Sam Franklin shouted slamming on the Humvee's gas pedal, the powerful vehicle lurching violently forward.
"Hey, easy there man!" Reginald Jenkins called from the back, nearly losing his grip on the heavy machine gun when he was pulled forward by the centrifugal force.
"Oh quit being a bitch," Miguel Sanchez shouted back from the passenger seat as they raced towards his latest target, delivering a powerful swing to the infected woman's rotting skull with a sickening 'thuk,' and prompting a hysterical laughter from Sam next to him.
"Damn, you oughta' try out for the Aspens...until it's my turn that is!" the insane driver cackled.
"In your dreams, junior," the Mexican-American convict shouted back.
Willamette, Colorado had descended into pure, unadulterated mayhem and the three convicts wasted no time in joining the party upon escaping from their prison transport.
It wasn't long before they happened across a group of soldiers being overwhelmed by those sick-looking people and jacked their wheels, laughing at the final soldier's misfortune as he was devoured whole by the frenzied mob.
Freedom was all too sweet for the homicidal trio, who had spent much of the day looting, raping and murdering, now in the process of making a game out of their killing spree, hoping for some kind of challenge.
So far all of those sick people were barely putting up any kind of fight and most of the living people were either dead or hidden away somewhere, the trio having gone over an hour without tasting the blood of a fresh soul.
For some reason all these sick people had been drawn to the Willamette Parkview Mall and they made their way there hoping for some break in the usual monotony these sick people delivered.
"Hey, look over there!" Miguel pointed with his bat.
"Jackpot," Sam laughed slamming his fist down on the horn.
XXXXX
Chuck was rattled from his thoughts by the honking of a horn and he looked up just in time to see a Humvee speeding towards him occupied by three men clad in orange prison jumpsuits, barely noticing the baseball bat directed at his skull. Throwing himself to the grass he barely dodged the swing, the wind ruffling his hair.
With a grunt the former motocross champ quickly pushed himself into a seated position, listening to the hysterical laughter coming from behind him.
"You missed, loser!" the thug manning the heavy machine gun shouted followed by another bit of laughter.
"Get your aim right, brother!" the driver whooped next to his passenger before patting the man on the back and pointing towards a nearby couple that came staggering into view.
"Alright! Looks like we found our next contestants!" the bat-wielding thug announced in his thick Spanish accent.
"I'm gonna take out the dude and snatch his old lady!" the driver shouted as his companions laughed maniacally in the background, "Here we go!" he said shifting the Humvee into drive.
"No!" Chuck shouted rising to his feet as the Humvee sped away from him.
He was too late and could only watch in horror as the convicts sped towards the frightened couple, the driver beeping the horn all the way up until his passenger's bat struck the man's skull with a sickening 'thuk.'
"No, dammit no!" Chuck shouted as he watched the woman collapse into a sobbing wreck over her fallen lover as the Humvee came to a screeching halt and the driver shifted into reverse, speeding recklessly towards the woman's direction and forcing her to flee further into the zombie-infested park.
Chuck looked over to Martin and the woman, who had by now regained consciousness and was back on her feet.
"Get her out of here. I'm gonna go save that woman!" he shouted to the officer.
"I'm not leaving you behind!" Martin replied raising his submachine gun and preparing to fire as the Humvee drew closer.
"Just go!" Chuck shouted before the Humvee nearly ran over the duo and the gunner opened fire, Martin and the woman thankfully getting out of the way before either one of them could be harmed and making a beeline for Paradise Plaza.
"Over here, assholes!" the biker shouted drawing his shotgun and firing a blast into the army vehicle's reinforced surface, dodging to the side as the gunner now fired upon him.
He squinted through the wall of staggering zombies in the distance and could see the woman running towards the small pond, still visibly scared out of her mind. He needed to get to her fast and pushed himself back to his feet running after her.
"I'm gonna kill you!" he heard one of the convicts shout and listened to the Humvee speeding up behind him.
"Perfect time to play the hero Chuck. You've got a whole bunch of zombies still running around, three psycho convicts on your tail in a Humvee with a freaking machine gun and you can barely see shit in front of you," he thought to himself before he was forced to dodge an attempted swipe from a nearby zombie, who would later find a gaping crater in its chest as the gunner again fired upon him. "Your luck's gonna run out sooner or later."
"Whoo hoo!" he heard the driver whoop as the Humvee drew dangerously closer to him and he could sense the passenger preparing for another swing with his trusty bat. Chuck kept running until he could feel the heat of the engine on his hind end and barrel rolled to the side, the escaped prisoner's bat connecting with the skull of another zombie.
"Damn bro, you could barely hit the broad side of a barn!" the driver taunted his companion just before crashing into a tree, buying Chuck invaluable time to get to the woman.
"Help! Someone help me!" the young woman shouted foolishly rushing into the waist deep water, a few zombies wading nearby and making their way after her.
"Over here! Come here!" Chuck shouted to the frightened woman, drawing his Defiler and cutting down a zombie that had gotten precariously close to her.
"Come with me. I know a safe place where you can hide from these bastards!" Chuck shouted over the strangled roars of nearby zombies, again cut off by the honking horn.
"No! They're really this crazy?" he asked himself looking over to see the Humvee charging towards the pond and driving on in, running over a few zombies before the driver managed to right himself and resume his pursuit, laughing like a hyena all the way.
"Come on," Chuck said grabbing the woman by the hand and leading her out of the water, the duo then running along a paved trail while dodging the lunging strikes of ravenous zombies along the way. Fortunately they weren't far from the Paradise Plaza entrance where he could see Martin and the other rescued lady waiting for them inside.
Then he heard the hysterical laughter of the criminals coming from behind them, followed by the thuds of them plowing their way through any zombies unfortunate enough to cross their path.
"Goin' down!" he heard the driver shout.
"C'mon Chuck, think fast," he told himself and saw a lamppost in front of him. Without warning he grabbed the woman around the waist and leaped to the side, rewarded with a loud crash as the Humvee struck the lamppost head on, temporarily stunning the three convicts.
He looked over to see the passenger slumped over with the baseball bat lying on the ground next to him. Running over he quickly snatched the slugger up and swung it three times into the Mexican man's skull, rewarded with a sickening crack and then brain matter covering the wooden surface.
"Son of a bitch," the gunner shouted taking aim for Chuck and unleashing a stream of high velocity rounds in his direction, forcing the chivalrous former champ back to the woman and once again grabbing her by the hand.
"Kill 'em all!" he heard the driver shouted, the blood lust more prevalent now that one of his buddies had just been killed, eventually taking a sharp left turn and giving his gunner room to fire another torrent of screaming lead upon his prey.
Chuck cursed silently with every shot fired upon him, flecks of gravel and dirt smacking against him with the force of tiny daggers as the ground was torn apart behind them. Yet the adrenaline coursed through his system at a manic pace and it was through this natural enhancement he was able to safely lead the young woman out of harm's way.
Unfortunately for the surviving convicts, their driver's mania got the better of him as he whipped the heavy vehicle around recklessly, careening sharply to the left and slamming into another lamppost and temporarily dazing him.
Chuck saw another opportunity and leaped onto the back of the Humvee, sneaking up on the stunned gunner and wrapping his arms around the man's neck in a tight stranglehold and after a bit of struggling, snapped his neck with an audible crack.
"You son of a bitch!" the driver shouted, shifting the Humvee into reverse and forcing Chuck to grip onto the machine gun's handles. "You're going down loser!"
The driver jerked the steering wheel to the left and right, violently rocking the small surface and it was only a matter of time before Chuck was thrown back to the earth.
"Damn it!" he grunted, another fresh wave of pain shooting through his body as he struggled back to his feet, only to find himself blinded a second later by the Humvee's headlights.
"Just you and me now Blondie!" the lone convict cackled madly, "You're gonna be sorry you iced my boys!"
Unknown to the distracted driver, another infected Willamette resident was onto his scent and quickly grabbed him from behind.
"Hey! Get off me!" he shouted while punching at the zombie, unwittingly stomping the gas pedal and sending the Humvee flying forward. Chuck managed to safely get out of the way and the stolen military vehicle was sent crashing head on into the Paradise Plaza building.
Chuck grimaced at the racket created by the loud collision, opening his eyes a second later to find the zombie splattered against the wall and the driver struggling to get the Humvee back into gear. Enough was enough and he picked up his shotgun.
"C'mon dammit! C'mon!" Sam Franklin grunted as he struggled to shift the Humvee into reverse, only to stop when he felt another presence sneaking up behind him and he turned to find the barrel of a shotgun shoved in his face.
"Game over" Chuck darkly spoke before obliterating the man's face in a spray of buckshot.
"Bastards," he grumbled to himself just as the transceiver began ringing again. With a deep grunt he picked it up, "Hello?"
"The Space Rider machine in Wonderland Plaza looks like it's outta control. Maybe there's somebody out there. You wanna check it out?" Otis asked.
"Sure thing Otis, but first I've got some people needing to be dropped off," Chuck replied before putting the transceiver away.
The threat dealt with he turned to see the woman staring off in the distance and he ran over to take her by the hand, "C'mon, it's not safe here."
"I can't believe those maniacs kill him. I never got the chance to tell him how I feel," the woman woefully muttered.
Chuck nodded in acknowledgment to the grieving woman, "I'm deeply sorry for your loss."
"Thank you mister. I really appreciate it," the woman nodded back to him.
"You can call me Chuck," he replied.
"Sophie," was all the woman offered as he led her back inside.
XXXXX
After reconnecting with Martin and the woman the quartet made their way back to the warehouse and then following the usual elevator ride and climb through the cramped vents were safely gathered in the vent room.
"Thank you so much mister. I really thought that freak was going to kill me back there," the woman spoke before wrapping her arms around him.
"It was all my pleasure," Chuck replied before turning his attention to the surviving officer.
"I can't believe I almost did the unthinkable back there," Martin said looking away in shame, "but seriously, thank you. I will do what I can to protect these people. I will not fail you."
"Glad to hear, Officer," Chuck said shaking the man's hand and watching as the trio disappeared into the back.
"Time to find out what the hell's going on," he said to Otis before making his way back to the vent.
XXXXX
Author's Note: And so concludes what has thus far been the longest installment of "Case Greene!" Took me a while, but I managed to get it done so yay me!
The scene where Chuck references 'Bryce Hammill' is supposed to be a spoof of Bruce Campbell from the "Evil Dead" series and I figured it would only be appropriate given we get to see Chuck cut up a bunch of zombies with a chainsaw.
Martin Kristiansen is an original survivor I decided to add when I thought of the riot gear Chuck can wear in DR2. He might not be the last so stay tuned for more!
Clancy Vincent is also an original character who was inspired by the Smileys gang from "Mahunt," more specifically those weirdos who ran around dressed in drag. I had thought of putting Frank in drag to make him seem more psychotic, but I figured "Aw fuck it" and decided to throw a new guy in.
The woman Chuck rescues in CD Crazy is supposed to be Chrystal Kennedy, one of the survivors who survives the initial onslaught and makes it safely to the Fortune City safe house along with Chuck, Katey and like 4 other survivors in addition to them. Her character model was also used as one of Seymour Redding's victims in the 'WWJWD' mission.
I also thought it sucked in the game how the convicts die without an ending sequence so that's what I did with Sam before Chuck finished him off. I also want to give a special thanks to whoever it was that posted their boss battle clip from "Chop 'Til You Drop" on YouTube, which was definitely instrumental in helping with this fight sequence.
For survivors rescued in this chapter:
Martin Kristiansen, 33
Chrystal Kennedy, 22
Sophie Richards, 25
Well I think that's it for now so as always read and review! This is Metal Harbinger saying SPREAD THE SICKNESS, ONE MIND AT A TIME! \m/