Wednesday August 23rd, 1989
Pennsylvania Countryside
8:00PM
Frank has been walking for more than an hour and a half since his encounter with those things at the gas station. He must be in one of the least populated parts of Pennsylvania because he hasn't seen any real civilization yet. The news from his hand held radio has been spotty at best, getting some information here and there. From what Frank had heard, the "outbreak" of violence has seeming going on up and down the east coast of the United States and well into the Midwest, no word on the west coast or the south. The governor of Pennsylvania has also activated the national guard to help contain the situation.
Frank had also notice people off in the distance as he walked but he paid them no mind. He recognized most of them as the things that had attacked him at the gas station, their stiff shuffling walk and the snarling groan from a distance gave them away. However some seemed to be just regular people in the woods for whatever reason. Frank had no intention of approaching them, good chance they're armed and very paranoid from what's going on.
Frank looks up into the air, the sun is setting in the west, meaning night was coming fast. As much as he didn't want to approach anybody, he likely needed to find a place to hold up for the night. He rather not gets shot in the dark due to some trigger-happy idiot mistaking him for one of those things or whatever he decided to name them sooner or later.
It was then that Frank had a sudden flashback to his days of Nam, back at the Forward Operating Base he used to be stationed as when he was a Marine. A unit of Navy SEALs used to operate in the area as well and he befriend one of them. The man was African-American, taller than Frank at six foot, five inches tall and muscular as all hell. Frank could still remember when a NVA/Vietcong attack happened on their FOB and seeing that SEAL work magic with his M60, laying waste to Charlie.
It was before that attack, he had started talking about the voodoo religion and his experience with it. He talked about voodoo priests and priestess' that could raise the dead of evil people and force them to work even in undeath. He called them Zombies and talked about it as if it were real, to Frank, he saw it as superstitious bullshit. Looking at the situation now, the term zombie seemed to fit the most of the creatures that are attacking him, the only real difference from what he remembered from his friend's story was the voodoo zombie were slaves to a voodoo priest and didn't eat people.
"Fuck it, just call them zombies," Frank said to himself.
As Frank got over the crest of a hill, he looks around and then spots a house off in the distance, a simple looking one story house that was connected to a road. Frank made a his way to the house as fast as he could, his Colt .45 at the ready, just in case one of the zombies were out there. Lucky for him, none seemed to be around...for now.
He reached the back door of the house, he noticed the screen door wasn't locked before he knocked on the door, giving the door three firm hits. He waited for a few agonizing minutes before the door flung open and the ported barrel of a shotgun got shoved in his face. Frank with lighting speed, grabbed the barrel with his free hand and redirected away from his head.
Frank met eyes with a older white man, likely in his early sixties. He had shaggy gray hair and beard, and same intense look on his eyes as Frank, which clued Frank that this is a veteran of war. He is wearing a gray sleeveless shirt, blue jeans and tan steel toed boots. While he may have been a veteran, his body was not in the best shape, a pot belly showed that he had not maintain his days in the military. The gun he had shoved in Frank's face was a Winchester Model 12 Trench Gun, the heat shield, bayonet lug were dead giveaways.
Frank decided to say something first.
"I'm not one of the them."
The man gave him a somewhat wary look for a moment, if he was just one of those "get off my lawn" types, he would have already said something by now, so he knew what was going on. He was likely seeing if he was bitten. Once he saw that he wasn't, he just motioned his head towards the inside of his house.
"Get in here."
Frank did not hesitate to get inside the house and the old man shut the screen door this time and closed the back door, locking it as well. Frank for his part holstered his .45, to show he wasn't a threat. He turned to see he is in the kitchen of this place. The old man approached Frank, his hand out for a handshake.
"Sorry about that, couldn't be too careful. Names Dan Robertson."
Frank shook the man's hand, even he understood what the man did, given the situation.
"Don't worry about it," Frank said, "Name's Frank Fort."
Frank decided to give out a false last name, while he didn't know if this man knew who the Punisher was, he wasn't going to take a chance with that. Dan motioned him to follow him into the living room, which Frank did, once he did, he saw that there was two other people in there as well.
The first one is a very beautiful young white woman, likely only twenty years old. She has long black hair that went down the small of her back and brown eyes that usually were compassionate but at the moment were full of stress and worry. She is wearing a white tank top that did little to hide her considerable bust and cleavage, black jeans and white tennis shoes. She is currently knelt down beside the only couch in the living room.
In said couch is a white man, likely the same age as the woman. His dirty blond hair is unkempt and his skin seemed to be pale. He is sweating up a storm from whatever is happening to him. He is wearing a red shirt, black slacks and shoes. It was the wound on his upper arm that got Frank's attention. It was wrapped in bandages but what he had heard on his radio concerned him. He seemed to be sleeping right now.
The woman looks up to see Frank and Dan walk into the room, she stands up to look at Frank, giving him a once over.
"This is Tiffany Hart, the guy on the couch is her boyfriend Kurt Willis. They were on their way home to Evans City when those ghouls attack them. He got bitten by those ghouls but they managed to escape but their car ran out of gas a mile away from here. They got here a few hours ago, tried to call for an ambulance but got noting but a busy signal," Dan explained.
After a moment of silence, Dan continued.
"Tiffany, this is Frank Fort."
She walks up to Frank and holds he hand out for a handshake.
"Hello Frank, it's nice to meet you, I wish it was under better circumstances."
Frank returned the handshake with a curt nod, not needing to waste time to say anything. Tiffany went back to keep vigil over her boyfriend. Frank's stomach soon growled, loudly enough that it got the attention of both Dan and Tiffany.
"When was the last time you ate?" Dan asked.
"I had pulled in to a gas station to fuel up and get something to eat before I was attacked, had to ditch my ride, those things just surrounded my van," Frank explained.
Dan understood and without saying anything, he turned around and walked into the kitchen. Frank looked around the living room to see pictures of the man's house. He was correct to assume the man was a veteran, he saw pictures of him in World War 2 era uniform and others that showed he also fought in Korea.
"You a cop?" Frank heard Tiffany ask.
Frank turned to see the woman looking at him with a curious look on her face. Frank knew that she likely saw his .45 in the shoulder holster, that is something no normal civilian would be walking around with. He quickly thought of something.
"Yeah, was on vacation, just going back to New York when all this shit happened."
The answer Frank gave her seemed to satisfy Tiffany enough and she shifted her attention back to her boyfriend. Not too soon after that, Dan came back into the room, he had a baloney sandwich in his free hand and offered it to Frank.
"Ain't much but it will do for now."
Frank took the sandwich and thanked the man for his kindness. Frank took a huge bite of the sandwich, chewed it up properly and swallowed it. He soon looked over at Dan, who took a seat in a old recliner, keeping an eye on Kurt, his shotgun laying across his lap.
"Saw those pictures, served in the military."
Dan nodded, a wary grin crossed his face.
"That's right. I caught the ass end of World War 2, was sent over to Okinawa with the 7th Infantry Division. Goddamn meat grind that was, saw a lot of good soldiers and marines get killed by those fucking jap bastards. Then it was those commie chinamen in Korea."
Frank continued to listen to the man as he ate his sandwich. He noticed that Tiffany would shoot him a dirty look every time Dan would spout something racist. Dan's causal racism didn't bother Frank, his own father was similar to Dan, having served in the Marines during the Pacific War and would say similar things. He also heard it during his own time in Vietnam, many men calling the Vietnamese names like "Gook" or "Zipperhead."
"I saw that look in your eye too, I take it you served in Vietnam?" Dan asked Frank.
"Yeah, did a couple of tours," Frank said, "I was a Marine."
Dan gave out a small chuckle about hearing that.
"Well under normal circumstances, I'd give you shit for being a jar head but now is not the time for that."
Frank gave the smallest hint of a smile, he was right though. In another life, he would have called the old man an "Army puke" in a playful manner, he always respected those of the greatest generation. But now, with his family dead and the dead walking the earth, now wasn't the time to start a dick measuring contest.
After finally finishing his sandwich, Frank looked around the room and saw a small, chest high radio on the floor. Frank moved over to it and turned it on, lowering the volume so it will be quite but loud enough to be heard. After adjusting the frequency for a few moments before hearing a voice on the radio.
"This is not a test, this is a broadcast of the national emergency system," A female voice said.
This caught the attention of both Dan and Tiffany, who walked over radio, hovering over Frank.
"A strange plague has swept across the Eastern Seaboard and into the Midwest. The recently deceased is coming back to life and is attacking the living. Anybody bit by these creatures will die, no know way to treat it the infection is known at this time. It has been confirmed that only by destroying the brain can kill these creatures, either by gunshot to the head, heavy blunt trauma to the head, or stab wound to the head. Other facts seems to indicate that these creatures are scared of fire as well. The governors of the affected states have declared martial law and urge people to stay in their homes, locked the doors and cover all windows. If you are not able to do this, rescue centers have been set up to receive any who can reach them. As of now, there are bands of police, sheriff departments and civilian groups helping out in dealing with the infestations. Now here are the list of places that the governor of Pennsylvania has declared rescue centers…"
All three of them listened for a moment before Frank looked over at Dan.
"This place have a basement?"
Dan shook his head in disappointment.
"No, and the attic is full to the brim with stuff, it take hours for all three of us to empty it. And though she didn't say anything about it. The last time I heard a voice on there, they said there is huge groups of those things out there, one of those groups could show up here at any moment."
Frank began to weigh his options but Tiffany piped in.
"What about going to one of these rescue centers? One of them is about ten miles away."
Frank shook his head at this idea.
"Bad idea, more than likely bite victims will hid their wounds in order to get in there, those places will likely be overrun within hours."
All while this was going on, the three never noticed the Kurt had opened his eyes but he was no longer the man he used to be. His eyes graying over and his skin cold to the touch. He looked around for a moment before he saw Frank, Dan and Tiffany. He looked at his former girlfriend for a a few seconds, a few more moments of his humanity lingered on before they disappeared and the feral, primal urge of hunger took him over. As he began to stand up, he let out a hungry groan.
This sound made all three of the still living people whirl around, Tiffany had a look of horror on her face. Dan looked on with some surprise but Frank looked on with little emotion. The moment he had seen the man, he knew this was going to happen, it was just a matter of when.
"Kurt?" Tiffany said in a confused and sad manner.
As the man formerly known as Kurt stood upright, he let out another groan. Tiffany seemed to be in denial over what was going on as she just backed away trying to reason with her former lover. Frank wasted no time in taking his .45 from his holster and taking aim. Since he now knew what he was dealing with and how to kill it, he wasn't wasting time. His lined up the back and front sights in between the zombie's eyes and curled his finger around the trigger. Tiffany saw what was going to happen.
"NO!" She yelled out.
Unfortunately for her, Frank had applied the pressure to the trigger. His .45 barked out loud and a fat round came out of the barrel and soon enough, found it's mark. The round went in to his head neatly in the front and it came out the back, his head exploded and blood, brains and bones hit the back of the wall. Kurt stumbled backwards and landed back onto the couch, his head leaning backwards, the remains of his crainal matter leaking over it.
Tiffany let out a horrid scream of despair and tried to run over to her re-killed boyfriend but was stopped by Dan. She tried to fight him off but his grip was strong.
"HEY! Stop it Tiffany. You saw what happened, Kurt turned into one of those things, there was nothing we could have done for him. Better this than allow him to be that way. Frank did the right thing."
Her tear filled eyes look at Dan, his eyes showed sympathy for her but in her heart she knew he was right, she had been denying it even though the news said that bite would kill no matter what happens. She looked over at Frank, who just looked at her back, while Tiffany really couldn't read much of what Frank was thinking, somehow she could tell that he took no pleasure at what he did. She began to calm down. Frank decided to get back at the task at hand.
"You got any more weapons other than that shotgun?"
"Yeah, I got a couple more in my bedroom," Dan answered before walking toward said bed room.
There was an awkward silence for a while between Frank and Tiffany but soon Frank spoke up first.
"I'm sorry about your boyfriend...I know what it's like to lose love ones."
She looked over at him, still not sure what to say to him. He just looked at her.
"I lost my wife, son and daughter back in '74 to violence in New York. Ever since then, it been hard for me to show any kind of emotion."
Tiffany faced softened after hearing that, now she understood why he didn't seem bothered by what he had done, losing ones whole family would do that. And him being in Vietnam probably didn't help either. No more words was said as Dan came back into the room, holding more weapons.
The first one was a Ruger Mini-14 semi-auto rifle, likely chambered in .223, it had a full wooden stock and twenty inch barrel. He already had a fifteen round magazine in it. He handed it to Frank, who took it. He did a brass check to see if the weapon was ready for action.
He then pulled out a Smith & Wesson Model 10 .38 caliber revolver with a heavy barrel. He looked over at Tiffany for a moment with some concern on his face. She knew he was contemplating whether he should give it to her or not, worried she might use it to get revenge of Frank for what just happened.
"You're right, Frank did the right thing," Tiffany answered.
Dan nodded and gave Tiffany the revolver. Frank was going to ask if she knew how to use that revolver but she did her own brass check by opening up the cylinder to check how many rounds were in the gun, which showed she knew how to use guns. Soon Dan passed around the ammo he had on hand. He gave Frank four, twenty round mags of .223 for the Mini-14 and four speed loaders to Tiffany for the revolver. Now that everybody was armed, Frank had a plan.
"You got a vehicle?" Frank questioned Dan.
"Yes, my truck is outside, it's mostly fueled up."
Frank nodded, at least they got a ride with fuel to spare.
"Alright, here is the game plan. We take the truck and find one of these roving groups of armed civilians or cops and stick with them. Strength in numbers and guns will likely be the best option for us," Frank explained.
Both Dan and Tiffany nodded in agreement to this but before anything else was said, a female groan sounded off by the front door. Again this made all three of the living of into high alert. Frank looks over at Dan and he nodded, knowing what Frank had in mind. Both men got into position, Frank unlocked the door while Dan stood a few feet away, his Winchester shotgun aimed at head level. Frank then flung open the door and back up as fast as he could, there in the door way was a female zombie, likely in her early 40's, Hispanic, with disheveled black hair. Her arm was missing below the elbow and had several bite marks across her chest and face, her light blue dress was stained with blood. She let out another moan as she reached out so she could feast on their warm flesh.
Dan didn't hesitate, after a quick adjustment to his aim, he fired. The shotgun boomed as 00 buckshot came out the barrel and flew in the air, catch the zombie straight in the face. Her head came apart like a melon; brain, bone and coagulated blood splatters all over the front door as the zombie's body falls over in a bloody heap.
"Alright lets go!" Frank stated firmly as he led the way out.
Stepping over the former human's body, Frank stepped out onto the porch, with Dan following suit. Tiffany started to follow before quickly looking back towards her dead boyfriend. She hated to just leave him here, rotting. However she knew nothing could be done as of now. Hopefully, if or when this blew over, they could come back and give him a proper burial. She then turned and walked out to the porch with Frank and Dan.
Frank surveyed the area for a second. He saw the blue 1960's Ford F100 pickup truck sitting by the porch. Before Frank could ask if he had the keys on him, he heard Dan reach into his pocket and the jingle of car key are heard. Good, at least he didn't need to go back in to look for them.
Soon Frank saw movement by the car, another shuffling figure came into view and a another groan came from it. This time it was a man, white with short brown hair wearing a collared shirt, black slacks and black shoes. He had several bite marks all over him as well. He looked at the truck for a few minutes but didn't seem to noticed them at the moment. Frank simply let out a shrill whistle to get it's attention, the zombie looked over at him and did the customary snarl and groan. Frank took aim and fired a .223 round, the round entering into his eye and exiting out the back. The back of his head exploded out, emptying it's content on the ground. As the body hit the ground, a chorus of groans came from all over the place, the place had been surrounded by the living dead. Frank looks over at Tiffany and Dan, both seemed to be a bit scared after hearing the groans, Frank got their attention.
"Alright Dan, take the wheel, all ride in the back while Tiffany rides shotgun with you."
Both Dan and Tiffany nodded nervously and the trio made their way towards the truck. Dan and Tiffany quickly got into the truck while Frank jumped into the bed of the truck. As Dan turned the engine on, Frank looked around to see zombies coming out of the woods. Men, women and even kids come out of the woodwork, their dead gray skin, soulless eyes giving them away. Dan soon put his foot on the pedal and the truck moved forward. Frank sat down as the truck started to pick up speed, both him and Tiffany saw the zombies reaching out, groaning in hunger and blood lust as Dan drove past them.
Once they hit the road, Dan picked up more speed, leaving behind the ravenous dead. Frank just watched the road go past him, ready for whatever this night has in store for him.
XXXXXXXXXXXXXXX
Here is the next chapter of the story, a lot longer than I thought.
This introduces Tiffany Hart and Dan Robertson to the cast and originally Dan was to die here by having Kurt biting him and Frank putting him down. However I kinda like the character, enough to allow him to live for now. Doesn't mean something might not happen to any of the characters including Frank, given how the zombie genre tends to go, anyone can die.
As you can tell, there will be some depictions of racism in this story. Dan's causal racism against Asians is something I saw from WW2, Korea and Vietnam vets I had met over the years (I'm in my late 30's) As you can see, Frank is indifferent to it while Tiffany was annoyed by it. Just to be clear, I am no way racist, if the fact that I had Frank wasting white supremacists didn't clue you in.