Chapter 4: Grave New World
"Chuck, you've done some crazy shit in your life, but this has got to be taking the cake," the voice inside his head told him as he pulled himself out of the cramped metal duct and back into the open, nearly bowled over by the stench of decomposing flesh amplified by a million.
"Damn it," he grunted aloud as it took some time before he could get adjusted to the rancid stench without wanting to vomit. Hearing the moans of the dead in the distance he approached the nearby chain-link fence and stared in disbelief.
Beyond the confines of the Willamette Parkview Mall it was nothing but a sea of inhumanity.
There had to be thousands of those zombies staggering around out there and they were still pouring in with every passing second, almost like they were magically appearing from out of thin air.
Not only that he could still hear the sounds of survivors struggling: the police sirens, the gunshots, the dying screams...
Chuck's foot brushed against something and he looked down to find a pair of binoculars. Out of morbid curiosity he picked them up and peered through them.
On the rooftop of the nearby C.W. Factory he watched as a lone woman attempted to hold off a small crowd of advancing zombies armed with a handgun, only to run out of ammo and find herself tackled and falling to the pavement below. It wasn't much farther away in the mall parking lot where a motorist was stranded atop his battered white sedan swinging away wildly at the surrounding zombies with a baseball bat. When he could hear the whir of helicopter blades above he stopped everything he was doing and began waving his arms wildly, the distraction enabling the zombies to grab and pull him to the pavement below.
"What the?" Chuck asked to nobody in particular as he looked up to see an unmarked helicopter flying overhead, followed by two more. Judging by the guns mounted on the sides he assumed they had to be military and wondered if they were in anyway connected to those two government workers back in the office. He watched as they made their rounds over the shopping center with no signs of slowing down. It looked more like they were just scouting the terrain rather than attempting a rescue mission, his suspicions seemingly confirmed as a low flying copter ignored a couple on the rooftop of the nearby Dark Bean coffee shop who had been shouting and waving their arms frantically in plain view of the airborne crew.
It was an unsettling sight that left him wondering what their motives were and furthermore, if they would be willing to let anybody in or out of the city limits. The thought left him swallowing hard and worrying for Ed's safety.
"Hello there!" a voice called from behind, causing Chuck to nearly jump out of his skin.
Whirling around on his heel with his spiked bat at the ready he turned to find a well-dressed fellow casually strolling towards him like he didn't have a care in the world. When he got a good look on his face it instantly dawned on him.
It was the same man from the gas station!
Chuck opened his mouth to speak, but was cut off before he could.
"You're not from around here are you?" the man asked in a thick Spanish accent.
"What's it to you?" Chuck asked narrowing his blue eyes at the mysterious man, already not liking the vibe he was getting from him.
The man walked past him and looked out towards the carnage before them, "Tell me, what have you seen thus far?"
"Who the hell does this creep think he is?" Chuck asked himself, deciding for now he would play along. "Well what is there to say? This place has turned into a goddamned shit hole!"
"I guess you could say, everyone's already dead?" the man asked turning to face him, an ominous smirk cracking his features.
Chuck stared at the man in utter disgust, wanting to bash his brains in right then and there.
The nameless Latin man looked back to him, a fire burning brightly in his dark eyes as his tone became even more sinister, "This my friend...is Hell!"
That did it right there. He had crossed the line.
"I don't know who the hell you think you are, you freak. You're off your fucking rocker and you are going down!" Chuck said advancing towards the man with his spiked bat drawn.
A loud ding sounded from his right and temporarily distracted the former motocross champion, giving the nameless Latin fellow time to reach for a small metallic object he would toss into the air. Less than a second later there was a bright flash and a deafening bang.
"What the hell gives?" Chuck blurted out, unable to hear his own voice over the shrill ringing in his ears. The blast left him blinded and waving his arms around wildly until he felt a hand gripping onto his shoulder.
"You're going down!" he shouted to his unseen assailant, delivering a haymaker he felt connecting with someone's cheek.
It was then his hearing slowly began coming back to him and he cold make out a frightened woman's voice yelling at him, "Please don't hurt my husband!"
The blinding light began to dissipate, yet everything was swirling like he was underwater. Through the blur he was able to make out a solid wall which he braced himself against and took some time to steady his rubbery legs. Shapes began taking form and he blinked his eyes rapidly to readjust to the world around him and it was then he was able to make out the older man in the pink shirt lying on the tarmac before him pawing around anxiously for his lost glasses and standing nearby with her hands clasped over her mouth was a bespectacled older woman in a bright green shirt.
"Please don't hurt me!" the downed man pleaded, "We came here to get away from those things!"
Chuck blinked his eyes repeatedly as his vision fully returned to him and the ringing had subsided, yet he struggled to maintain his balance. When he finally felt stable enough he would break the tense silence.
"I'm terribly sorry about that. I thought you were someone else," Chuck said offering his hand to the fallen man, who seemed initially hesitant to take it, "I meant it. I didn't mean to attack you like that. Some creep was here just a second ago and I tried to stop him!"
The man looked warily towards him for a few more seconds before finally accepting his hand and grabbing the golf club he had dropped before Chuck pulled him back to his feet. The woman then ran over and embraced him.
"I'm terribly sorry," Chuck repeated, "I'm not here to hurt anybody. My name's Chuck and I know a safe place not too far from here. You can follow me," Chuck said with a wave of his arm.
The couple eyed him cautiously before the man spoke up, "Well, uh alright then. I guess it's worth checking out," the man spoke up first, "I'm Jeff Meyer and this here is my wife Natalie. We would great appreciate your help."
"It would be my pleasure. Now c'mon," Chuck said jogging towards the elevated platform, stopping to help the couple up. The biker was first into the duct and waited until he was sure his companions were behind him and within seconds they were crawling through to the vent room.
"Thanks a lot for your help. I really owe you one...even if things got off on a rough start," Jeff said reaching out and shaking Chuck's hand. "Here, you might need this more than I will if you're gonna be going back out there," he said offering up his golf club, which the biker graciously accepted.
"I'm never going to the mall again as long as I live. I've had enough of this," Natalie whined before Jeff took her to the back.
"Here," Chuck heard Otis' raspy voice call out and he turned to find the janitor offering him an apple and a jug of coffee creamer, "You might be out there a while, son. This is all we've got, but it should hold you over until you can find something else to eat."
"Thanks, I appreciate it," Chuck said before making his way back into the vent.
Chuck was back outside within seconds and approached the elevator. Pushing the call button he waited until the same cheery 'ding' signaled its arrival and made his way inside. Standing towards the left side he rested the golf club against his shoulder, knowing he would need to be ready in case he encountered any more zombies or that creepy Latin guy again.
"Unless he's some kind of ninja he couldn't have gotten far," he told himself as the elevator chimed and the doors slid open.
He found himself in a large warehouse filled with shelves of boxes, barrels, building supplies and other miscellaneous goods for restocking the stores around the mall. Fortunately the room appeared to be empty and he began looking around for anything else he could use until he heard a ringing sound coming from his coat pocket and he pulled out the transceiver.
"Hello?"
"Hey, it's Otis from back at the security room. Can you hear me Chuck?" the old janitor called out.
"Loud and clear. What's up?"
"Let me give you a rundown of the mall's layout so you know what you're doing. Right on the other side of that warehouse you'll find Paradise Plaza. There are lots of shops there...restaurants, sporting goods, books...you name it. It's a pretty big mall so you'll probably need to use the can now and then. Just check the map to find the restrooms when you need to," Otis explained.
"Alright thanks. Keep me informed if anything else comes up," Chuck replied before pocketing the transceiver.
Chuck saw the corridor leading out to the Paradise Plaza and was about to advance farther along when he suddenly heard footsteps coming from behind him.
"Zombies, huh? I had a feeling more of you would show up," he said taking cover around the bend and raising his golf club, ready to hit an eagle off of a zombie's skull. He waited for the steps to draw closer and it was then he stepped into the open ready to swing, cut off by a woman's shriek.
It was that Jessie lady from the office and now she was falling flat on her ass.
"Ohh...oh god! It's you! Look, don't sneak up on me like that!" Chuck scolded reaching down to help the young woman back to her feet.
"Brad was attacked. I located him on the monitor...oh!" she spoke trying to stand, only to fall back to her knees.
"It's probably just a sprain," he said helping her back up and walking her over to the elevator.
"I've gotta help Brad..or he's done for," she protested.
"Alright fine. Give me your gun," Chuck motioned for her handgun, "Come on. I'm the reason you just got hurt. Let me help."
"No! I can't let a civilian do that. That's against regulations!" she protested.
"Yeah, well I don't think they had zombie-infested malls in mind when they wrote those regulations," Chuck shot back.
Jessie knew she had been boxed into a corner and sighed before tepidly handing him the gun, "Do you know how to use this?"
"Kind of," he said accepting the gun and testing its sights, "It should be as simple as point and shoot, shouldn't it?"
"I can tell you've played a few too many video games," she replied.
"Look, after I'm through helping you, you and I are going to have a nice little chat," Chuck said tucking the gun into his belt.
"If you can get that past Brad first," Jessie replied bracing herself against the wall and making her way back to the elevator.
Chuck ignored the comment and made his way towards the Paradise Plaza entrance and listened to the undead chorus of moans and feral snarls coming from the other side, some cheery music heard faintly in the background.
"Here we go again," he said to himself and he quietly opened the door and stepped out into the open.
"Damn it," Chuck muttered to himself while looking to his left and seeing more zombies who had abandoned their previous meals in pursuit of some fresh meat. He was surrounded from all directions, but as long as he had an ounce of breath in his body he was not out of the fight just yet.
He had to provide backup for Brad, find Rebecca, stop that creepy guy if he found him again, and rescue any more survivors he would happen across.
Aside from the monumental task of raising his daughter as a single father following his wife Pam's death, this had been the most responsibility ever placed upon his shoulders.
"But if I don't do it then who will?" Chuck asked himself as a zombie drew dangerously closer and he swung the club upwards into its jaw, shattering it upon impact.
The attack caught the attention of another zombie staggering around outside of the Contemporary Reading bookstore and Chuck drew his club backwards and with a cry of "Fore!" launched a golf ball that traveled through the undead denizen's right eye and out the back of its head.
More zombies took notice of Chuck and started lumbering towards him, including one still clutching onto a hunting knife who shot its arm out and managed to slice him across the chest, causing him to cry out in pain. With a shout of rage he slammed the club into its forehead, splitting its skull wide open. He began swinging his 9 iron and launching more balls at the zombies, hard enough to tear through a few more decaying craniums before running out of balls and finding himself back down to using his spiked bat, wanting to conserve his bullets for backing up Brad.
"I gotta stop screwing around with these yahoos and get over to help Brad out," Chuck told himself as he climbed onto an elevated island in the center of the corridor and ran along it, barely dodging the decaying hands reaching out for him. Before he could reach the end and attempt to jump to the next island the transceiver started ringing.
"Out of all times! This better be damn good Otis!" Chuck shouted aloud before pulverizing another zombie's head. When he was confident there was enough space he raised the transceiver, "Yeah?"
"Chuck, you there? It's me Otis, the janitor," the old man's voice called out, barely audible as more zombies closed in.
"You kind of caught me at a bad time. You'd better make it quick!" he called back, barely dodging a swipe from a tall zombie.
"I've been watching the monitors here and I got some info you might want. There's some dark-haired guy wanderin' around in Paradise Plaza. He's carryin' a camera like that reporter lady friend of yours. I guess he must be some kind of journalist too. Takin' pictures at a time like this...he must be crazy," Otis spoke.
It wasn't the kind of info he was looking for, but if there was another survivor out there then it wasn't a bad idea to have a few extra helping hands on board.
"Okay, where is he?" Chuck shouted as he was forced to cut through a shin-high moat to escape a large cluster of undead.
"He's up in the Colombian Roastmasters cafe. You're headin' towards it right now," Otis replied.
"I'm on it," Chuck called back shoving the transceiver back into his pocket and slamming his bat into the face of another zombie before going for a grand slam that sent three flying backwards. Unfortunately for him another zombie managed to get close enough and went for his throat.
"Get off!" he screamed before performing a back drop attack that slammed the zombie backwards. Another rotting menace practically running towards him he quickly shot his arms out and intercepted the would-be attacker.
"Hands off!" he screamed just as he lightly lifted the zombie off the ground and tore its arms off, showering his face and upper torso with congealed blood in the process.
"Damn it! I'm gonna need some new clothes!"
XXXXX
Author's Note: To make sure my readers are kept up to date I will be listing the survivors rescued and escorted back to the security office at the end of each chapter.
In this chapter we have:
Jeff Meyer, 55
Natalie Meyer, 53
Well that's everything for now so until then read and review! This is Metal Harbinger saying SPREAD THE SICKNESS, ONE MIND AT A TIME! \m/