Chapter 5: Say Cheese
It was only a few more steps before Chuck was walking up to the Colombian Roastmasters cafe yet as he drew nearer he hard 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 quickly his eyes widened in disbelief.
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 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 man snapped while using one of the circular tables to keep '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 his intestines out with a mighty tug, much to Chuck's disgust. The man kicked his fresh kill backward and then looked down to his watch before walking over to the former motocross champion with an ear-to-ear grin.
"You're just in time, pal," the man said casually extending his 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 just 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 forthcoming 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 the group and swinging his bat, sending one of the zombies flying backwards before leaping into the air and performing a jump kick that sent another into the nearby SporTrance sporting goods store and then another that sent a third monster flying into the nearby wall with a sick splat. He then ducked low and executed a foot sweep that took another walking corpse from its feet and finished it off with a curb stomp before pummeling the last two into hamburger meat.
"Yes!" Frank shouted enthusiastically pumping his fist into the air, "Those were some amazing moves you pulled off there and I got it all on tape! 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 nonexistent marquee. "Think about it, your name being acknowledged as one of the great heroes of the '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," he said turning on his heel and walking away.
Frank West narrowed his eyes at the ex-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 atttempt 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.
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 and now he was finding himself swimming in the blood and gore of a fallen horde.
What was worse, there were more zombies still standing and they were closing in on him.
"Damn it," Chuck grunted pushing himself back to his hands and knees, struggling to maintain his balance in the sticky pools before grabbing onto a 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 a large vase next to the cash register.
The laughter did not cease as Frank West strolled into Marriage Makers, stopping 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 retorted springing back to his feet and tossing the vase into his stalker. With his opponent stunned the furious father vaulted over the counter and delivered a front drop kick that sent the madman falling onto his back with a loud thud.
"You're going down, sicko!" Chuck shouted mounting the psychopath and driving his fist hard into his opponent's face, followed by another and another.
Unknown to them, the racket created by the scuffle was attracting more zombies to the jewelry store and it was when an undead woman stepped into view and let out a throaty roar that Chuck halted his assault and looked up.
The distraction created an opening for Frank and he delivered a karate chop to his opponent's throat, sending the man rolling to the marble floor next to him gasping for air.
Frank looked up to see the female zombie drawing closer and he barely dodged her lunging after him, instead grabbing her by the arm.
"Gotta present for you, friend!" the photographer cackled before performing a hammer throw that sent the woman running towards his opponent.
Chuck was just catching his breath when he found himself tackled back to the floor and the zombie woman on top of him, spittle covering his face as she drew her opened maw closer. Shooting his hands up he clamped onto both sides of her head to stymie her advance, yet she had proven deceptively stronger than her petite build would let on.
"The public is going to eat you up!" Frank quipped as he stood nearby snapping pictures of the ordeal.
Chuck could only grunt in frustration, thinking about wanting to break free and strangle that son of a bitch where he stood, yet here he was pinned down by the zombie woman still managing to inch closer to his face, her rancid breath so overpowering it was through sheer willpower alone he wasn't throwing up.
"She's already looking to sink her teeth into you," the psychotic photojournalist added with another snap of his camera.
The imperiled ex-racer turned away to glare at the madman, but then noticed the severed hand lying just inches away. An idea popped into his head and he knew it would be risky, but he didn't have time to sit around and ponder what could be.
Creating enough space between himself and the zombie Chuck brought his fist up and punched her in the jaw as hard as he could, rewarded with a sickening crack and several chipped yellow teeth falling down onto him. Shooting his free hand out he grabbed the hand and shoved it into the woman's mouth, leaving her to bite down on it and creating that crucial opening he needed.
"Talk to the hand!" he grunted as she still reached after him, but he managed to finally shove her aside and returned his attention to his adversary.
"You just want the keep the party going, don't you pal?" Frank chuckled.
"I want you to shut the hell up!" Chuck shouted lunging towards the madman and delivering a hard haymaker to his chin that sent him staggering backwards before following up with an uppercut that sent him tumbling backwards over a nearby trashcan. He attempted to follow up with a curb stomp, but Frank somehow had enough strength to roll out of the way and performed a sweep kick that sent the ex-racer falling back to the floor.
It was like this madman was driven by some kind of strange psycho power and Chuck was getting desperate to finish him off. It was then he looked over and saw his gore-covered spiked bat lying nearby. It was a brutal weapon that had shredded through various zombies thus far and he had hoped he wouldn't be forced to use it on another human being, but right now he was starting to reconsider his options as nothing else seemed to stop this guy.
Desperate times called for desperate measures and he picked the spiked bat up, drove the end into the madman's gut and sending him tumbling against the nearby railing, where he could hear the snarls of a horde congregating below.
"You're not going to bother anyone else ever again," Chuck thought to himself before drawing his back and delivering a powerful swing that sent the madman flying over the side.
"Score Chuck: 1 – Psycho Frank: 0," the ex-champ grunted before pulling out the apple given to him by Otis and eating it up before washing it down with the jug of coffee creamer. It wasn't the ideal combination, but it would have to do for now.
"And here I thought Rebecca was hungry for a scoop," Chuck said aloud as he looked over the railing and to the horde milling about. There were no signs of the psychopathic photographer other than the cracked remnants of his camera in the middle of a large crimson pool. "Guess they had a bigger appetite."
There was no time to rest on his laurels as it suddenly hit him.
"Shit! I'm supposed to go help Brad!" he hissed as the female zombie from earlier staggered towards him, the severed hand still shoved into her mouth. With a shrug of his shoulders he swung his spiked bat again and obliterated her skull, but also snapping his bat beneath the wear and tear, "Damn it!"
"I gotta get some new gear if I'm gonna help," Chuck muttered to himself while looking towards SporTrance's upper level, "and some new threads," he added looking down to his now crimson sleeves.
"Hang on Brad. I'm coming."
XXXXX
Author's Note: And so concludes my latest installment of "Case Greene."
In regards to this chapter there was a previous concern regarding me making Frank out of character without any kind of explanation, but given the fact that Frank is a photojournalist who "has covered wars ya' know," it would be safe to assume that he has seen plenty of messed up shit that would screw with anybody's head and that perhaps being exposed to the death and destruction of Willamette is what finally pushed him over the edge, or at least leave him jaded in an extreme way unseen by many, with a sprinkle of the "reporter looking for the scoop of the century above all else" stereotype, as was with that reporter lady from "Resident Evil: Apocalypse."
Well that's all folks so until next time read and review! This is Metal Harbinger saying SPREAD THE SICKNESS, ONE MIND AT A TIME! \m/