January 12, morning twilight
George surveyed the parking lot before him through bleary eyes from his station along the mall's southern roof. The Governor shifted his schedule from evenings to mornings after he was caught sneaking rations, and it was hell on his sleep cycle. To make matters more dire, the mall had run out of coffee, so he was facing this without any help.
It was frigid, and small ice crystals formed around his beard and on his eyelashes. The double-lined coat he was given did little to keep the cold out. Night watch was mostly pointless anyway, he thought, since you couldn't see anyone before they were up against the mall's walls. Not that they'd want to be there with the crowd of zombies ten-deep ringing the entrance. It was a miracle the shatterproof glass didn't crack under their collective weight.
His opining was cut short by a pair of headlights in the distance, coming towards him. They quickly disappeared.
"Hey CentCom," He chirped into his walkie-talkie, "I've got eyes on a bogy, headlights in the distance but they vanished. Did we have an overnight scav mission?"
"Roger that, checking." Another voice chirped back. "Uhhh, it looks like one of our teams never returned." The voice paused. "But that's on Alpha clearance. What's the make and model?"
"I couldn't tell."
"Keep your eyes peeled for a salmon-colored Franklin All-Terrain. Meg's in there."
"Meg never came back?"
"This channel is for official communication only, save the chatter for your dinner date." Another voice cut through, silencing the two. George looked out across the lot again, seeing nothing but darkness and hearing nothing but the droning of the dead.
But the headlights were back, and they were barely past the horde at the doors.
"What in the goddamn-" His words were cut short by a hail of bullets tearing through his chest.
Down below, Carr and Martin reached into a sack and produced pipe bombs, chucking them into the crowd of undead before hiding back in the car. Moments later, the vehicle was rocked by two explosions. Bits of undead bodies rained down like a hail from hell.
They chucked another two into the crowd and sped off.
On the mall's northern side, Harlan and Anthony heard the explosions as they sat in their car.
Harlan sighed. "Are you ready?" He held his hand out. Anthony gently held it and kissed him.
"Let's do this." He punched the accelerator and the car shot out of its parking spot, zooming past a horde as it migrated towards the explosion. The two braced as their car slammed into the shatterproof glass and through the security gate, knocking over tables and chairs as they came to a halt in the middle of the food court. They quickly hopped out and bolted through a desert store to the kid's school and-
"He's not here!" Harlan cried as people ran all around him.
"It's too early, dammit!" Anthony yelled.
"Fuck fuck fucking hell what the fuck did we do?!" Harlan began to cry.
"It's too late now, the only way out of this is through." Anthony grabbed Harlan's hand and pulled him to the side as a squad of guards sprinted past. "You find Junior, I'll find the Governor."
"Please," Harlan grabbed Anthony's face with both hands, "be safe. I can't lose you again."
"We're not losing anyone today." Anthony said, full of confidence he knew he didn't have. With that, the couple kissed one last time before splitting up.
Harlan had an inkling of where Junior might be, especially in an emergency. He bolted up the escalator and rounded the corner, ducking in and out of store after store when he spotted a familiar messy bun of brown hair in the hair salon.
"Laureen?"
"Harlan, my god!" She ran and hugged him. "What's going on?"
"I don't know. I'm here for Junior. Where is he?"
"He's safe. Don't worry about him."
"I said, where the fuck is he?" He spat.
"And I said, he's safe." She spat back.
Harlan would never put his hands on a woman, but this was one of those moments where morality shrank into the back of ones head. He grabbed her by the shoulders and threw her against the counter.
"Tell me where the fuck he is or I'll- I'll cave your goddamned head in!"
Laureen collected herself and ran to the back of the salon. She returned with Junior, and a straight razor against his neck. Junior's eyes were wide with terror.
"Go on and tell your uncle what you've been telling me, Harley!" She spoke with a smile. "Tell him!"
"Tio what's going on?!"
"Your brat's been telling me everything, including your disgusting carrying on with that… that skinny freak." Harlan was confused.
"What did you tell her?"
"I said-" Junior gulped, struggling to stay away from the blade, "I said we were going on vacation!"
"With your sodomite friend Patrick, right?" Laureen shouted.
"With Patrick?" It clicked for Harlan. "Oh Jesus H- that's not what I meant. Just give him to me!"
"NO!" She growled. "He has one chance at a good, Christian, normal childhood and it's with me!"
"Some normal fucking childhood!" Harlan shrugged and gestured around him. "Living in a mall with a crazy Jesus-freak who's holding him hostage? Laureen, what the fuck's wrong with you?"
"Nothing's wrong with me you pervert!"
Before anyone could say anything, klaxons sounded and strobe lights went off. Someone pulled the fire alarm.
Taking advantage of the chaos, Junior managed to tear away from Laureen.
"GET BACK HERE YOU DEVIL'S SPAWN LITTLE BAST-" Harlan's TEC-9 tore through her like tissue paper, turning her gut a deep crimson. She collapsed at his feet, leaving a thick trail of red from where she was standing.
Junior buried his face in Harlan's thigh to banish the sight from his memory.
"H-How could y-you…" she gurgled.
"How could I? How could I?" Harlan leaned in close. "Ask your god what He thinks."
BANG.
Anthony went in the opposite direction as Harlan, and remained on the first floor. He knew the Governor would be hiding in his office, but if they were going to finish him, they needed to finish the mall once and for all.
Ducking between planters, he slowly made his way to the mall's southern entrance where a dozen or so guards were firing into a crowd of the undead. He sneaked behind them and passed into the backrooms, tracing his steps back to the security room.
Inside, he found a guard standing over the console. He turned around.
"Who the fuck are you?"
"Who the fuck are you? Does Fairweather know you're in here instead of out there?"
"I-uh-"
"Does he?! Your ass is grass once this gets out, you hear me?!"
"But I-"
"Out, OUT. OUT!"
The man obeyed, leaving Anthony alone with the terminal. He was dumbstruck that worked. Maybe he could've been an actor in another life, torn apart by zombies on set.
He was on the console in moments, no one changed the password after his previous break and entry. He flicked through the menu and selected FIRE, moments later, the security room was lit up by strobe lights. He took a moment to scrounge the security office for anything useful.
Anthony bolted out of the room and down the hall, bursting through the clothing store only to find the guards still stemming the unending tide of undead pouring through the blasted doors. How much ammo have they hoarded, anyway?
Panicked people ran all about, left and right, to and fro, Anthony felt like he was back in New York City during the bombing. He ran to the atrium to witness a couple try to hot-wire the display Cossette, only for the console to fizzle and pop. They left in a hurry and Anthony ran with them, climbing a flight of stairs to the second level.
He kept running, ducking in and out of store after store until he found Harlan, Junior clinging to him, and a dead body before him.
"What the fuck happened?"
Harlan turned to look at him, his eyes blank. "We need to kill the Governor."
