Chapter I: Death To Thy Enemy


(Music: "Returning", by Gustavo Santaolalla)


Skriiiitch.

Sensation.

Skriiiitch.

The force that lies in between the touch of your fingertips.

Skriiiiitch.

Pain is the worst kind of sensation.

SKRIIITCH.

Not the day-to-day pain- of being grounded to the earth, having to maintain oneself indefinitely just to keep that invaluable sensation; nor the pain that comes from physical toil and mental stress.

It is the unbearable, unnatural, unnerving kind of pain. A unique and special suffering that is descended from the cosmos and the stars to be inflicted upon us poor, ignorant flesh sacks.

One thing I truly believe- that every life has a soul. I have seen too much of its departure to doubt the cosmic connection we have with the universe, and how quickly and suddenly our spirits can get torn from our bodies and flesh. I have caused too much of it.

SKRITCH-

"-!"

I flinched- I'd cut my hand by accident. In the midst of dragging my blade across the whetstone in my other hand, I'd cut my thumb whilst in morbid thought.

I planted the tip of the knife into the wooden pew I'd sat upon. I had used this religious place as a shelter, staring with bristling curiosity at the wooden adornments around the establishment. Despite being in a very broken-down state, there was a noticeable harmony of the vine overgrowths with the inscribed decor and… and…

My face pinched in frustration; I had little grasp over the one language I rarely spoke. There were very few opportunities to learn more about it in this world. Even in my thoughts, I could only give meaning to makeshift words that would sound like insane babble if spoken aloud.

There was no possible way, at this point in time, that I could describe the intense and mind-numbing sensations that washed over me as I peered down at the map of this state. My eyes gazed at the marked spot in the far northwest of Wyoming; Jackson City, as it was outlined.

Where he resided. But that was not where he would be at this moment, according to the latest source I'd interrogated. He would be on patrol in an area nearby.

That's where I would be headed.


(Music: "The Cycle of Violence", by Mac Quayle)


2 weeks later...

I crept up along the banks of heavy snow as the blizzard tore through the dilapidated town, keeping myself low so as to avoid being seen by anyone. Thanks to those Firefly dickheads, I had a consistent flow of information on the whereabouts of that son of a bitch.

It only cost me a few bullets and a Firefly bounty on my head to finally get here.

To confront him.

Once and for all.

"H-!"

I nearly lost my breath as I saw a large, burly figure sprint for a half-torn fence a few meters away, trying to crawl under it. The figure was grabbed by one of the many Infected chasing after them, and from the cries of desperation, I assumed it to be a woman, much to my own surprise.

Indifferent to her peril, I buried myself further into the snow, fearing that I would suffer frostbite and simply perish right then and there, yet determined to avoid dying until I found that man. I watched, a silent and indifferent viewer as one of the Infected dropped on top of the woman, clawing at her ceaselessly with that dogmatic, horrid energy that all of those damn Infected possessed.

BANG!

I was shocked to hear a sudden gunshot- and further surprised to see two silhouettes approach the stranded woman, pulling her out from under the gate and shooting at the horde of Clickers and infected while they ran.

BANG! BANG!

BANG-BANG-BANG!

Their shots rang through the cold, brisk air, causing me to flinch a number of times; It was natural to fear loud sounds in an era like this. Nonetheless, I kept my watchful eyes on them, a creeping feeling entering my mind...

Deciding to adhere to the suspicion I held of those three, I followed them a bit of ways, stopping occasionally as they continued to find themselves in terrible predicaments. I wondered as to how these people survived in this post-apocalyptic landscape if they were getting caught into such life-endangering predicaments so often, but eventually, they rushed into a dilapidated building, slamming the door shut behind them as the hordes clawed at the entrance with renewed enthusiasm.

And now, I was intrigued. It was safe to assume they wouldn't be going out that way, so I decided to creep up, removing a Molotov from the backpack strapped to my back and lighting the cloth ablaze. I aimed carefully, trying to shield the dying flame in the midst of the snowstorm, and lobbed it over the barbed-wire fence, watching with delight as the Infected and Clickers screamed in agony while the flames clung to their bodies; Considering the snowstorm, I had ensured that the oil inside the bottle was particularly sticky; In fact, I had filled the bottle with concentrated nitroglycerin, so that the oil would both burn and stick to whatever poor souls got caught in it, no matter how much they flailed in the snow.

As the last of the Infected fell to the ground in a smoldering pile of ash and burnt flesh, I quickly moved up to the fence, throwing a thick woolen sheet over the barbed wire and quickly clambering over the fence onto the other side.

Crunch.

My thick-laden boots crackled in the densely-packed snow, as I moved on toward the front entrance, pushing aside the corpses and leaving behind the woolen sheet. Ensuring that I would remain covert, I stuck to the side of the building, slowly peering in through the glass panels of the front door-

BANG!

"AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!"

I leered back in shock as I heard the sound of a loud gunshot ringing through the inside of the building- it was a shotgun blast, recognizable from the low-octave explosive impact sound it made. I quickly snuck a peek through the windows, only to see-

"HUH!"

I nearly lost my breath- IT WAS HIM.

THERE HE WAS! Crawling away from that heavyset broad woman while her thuggard friends held him down. I watched with sinister eyes as she pulled a 9-iron from a nearby golf bag, eyeing Joel with murderous intention. And at that moment...

I had an internal crisis. Should I let her give Joel this fate, as he so deserved for all of his past sins? Would she properly deliver to him the PAIN AND SUFFERING that he NEEDED? Would he know all that he needed to understand why he deserved such a fate?!

Could I trust this person to exact the right vengeance on Joel that he deserved?

Click.

I cocked back the hammer on the M1911 I had unholstered from my torso, reaching into my backpack and pulling out my only combat trump card -a flashbang grenade I'd skimped off a Firefly soldier- and readied myself to fight to the death. Because I had already answered the questions that ran through my mind, at that very moment.

I would not let ANYONE take the vengeance that was rightfully MINE!

I eased open the door, tossing in the flashbang with a violent glee, and closed it shut-


(Music: "The Cycle Continues", by Mac Quayle)


POP!

"AAAAAHHHH!"

"FFFFUUUUCCCCCK! MY EYYYESSS!"

"GGGH!"

I felt my nerves tense up as I heard the groans of those inside, who had been flashed by the stun grenade. This was my chance!

I pushed open the door, seeing several people I didn't recognize in the slightest, except-

J

O

E

L.

BANG!

BANG!

BANG!

BANG!

Without reprieve or emotional turmoil, I executed four of the armed strangers writhing on the floor immediately, uncaring and unwilling to give a thought to who they were or who loved them. The other four remaining were quick to instinctively grab for their handguns despite being concussed, something I would have commended them for in other circumstance.

Before they started to shoot blindly, I dove to the right and side-kicked a bland-looking couch out in front of me, ducking behind it to take cover from the barrage of bullets.

BANG-PFT! BANG-PFT!

"SUMBITCH!"

I cried out in alarm as I saw the bullets tear holes through the couch, and I was quick to realize that this was the third time I had forgotten that couches were not a good cover. I quickly flattened onto my stomach and waited for the hail of bullets to run out, as their magazines emptied.

Click-click-click!

Click! Click-click!

"FUCK, I'M OUT! DID WE KILL THE FUCKER YET?!"

"I can't hear anything…"

"G-uuuhhh-uuuhhhh…!"

The desperate atmosphere only strengthened my resolve in winning this gunfight. I momentarily peered back to see Joel having fallen from his sat position and covering his ears, which indirectly saved his life from the bullets that tore through the makeshift cover.

Confident now that they were all incapacitated and unable to reload, I vaulted the couch and took careful aim at the grasping and fetal gunmen on the floor.

BANG!

"AH!" I cried out, feeling a bullet slam into my side; I was beyond fortunate that it had torn clean through, though I was terrified because I had no idea if it'd hit any vital organs. I didn't have enough time to check; every second mattered.

In a rage, I turned towards the figure that struck such a blow against me- to find out it was that burly blonde woman. She seemed to be the most resilient of all the others, her stunned eyes gleaming with great hatred; Despite her being unable to see anything, she fought through the dizziness and blindness, and somehow managed to get a shot off at me.

Determined to follow through with my goal, I slapped the handgun out of her grasp with haste and delivered a solid kick to her face. I turned my head to see-

"AAAARGH! YOU FUCKING BASTARD!"

I was suddenly tackled by one of the few strangers left, who had recovered more quickly than the others, and ambushed me. I felt the air leave my lungs as I crashed against the drawers behind me; He was older and far stronger than I was, but I didn't need a hand-to-hand advantage for this fight.

Shick!

"Ugh-!"

With only a single groan of agony, what little strength remained in him faded as I stuck my hunting knife into his gut. Over, and over, and over again. He fell to the floor with a sickening thud, blood oozing across the floorboards. Two of the strangers only then began to recover; an exercise in futility.

BANG! BANG!

All that was left was the small, short-haired brunette. Her eyes had finally adjusted to the aftermath of the fight, and she let out a gut-wrenching, high-pitched scream as her eyes glanced upon one of the bodies.

She rushed me with murderous vigor, but I could easily telegraph her next moves, and so waited until she stumbled past my evasive steps before wrapping my arm around her throat and snaking the knife's blade up into her armpit; puncturing an artery.

Thud.

And all that was left now, was the burly, broad woman, who was coughing up blood as she remained barely conscious. I pointed the barrel of my gun at her temple.

Click.

I clicked my tongue in disappointment as I saw the slide lock into place, signaling that the pistol was empty. However, I remembered the few bullets I kept in my back pocket, for such emergencies like this. It was far too often that I ran out of ammo at such unfortunate times, and so I thought it helpful to keep a few on hand.

I loaded each of the bullets carefully, walking over and slamming my boot into the burly woman's skull once more, hearing the sound of bone cracking.

"Unlucky." I hissed at her, chambering a bullet and leveling the barrel of the pistol at her head.

BANG!

Her body jerked as the bullet pierced her eye and exited through the floorboards- Her body fell still. I had not even gotten her name, but here she was, dead. I supposed this would inevitably be my fate one day- to be executed by some random lowlife without being able to so much as utter a syllable. After a few moments of somber thought, I released a deep sigh, along with a groan thanks to the bullet wound searing through my torso.

With that business dealt with, my eyes remained solely trained on Joel, lying against the glass and bleeding from his knee like a stuck pig. I saw his eyes flutter, then light up with shock as he saw me standing over him, pistol in hand.

"Wh..." He muttered, almost unable to form words. "What the fuck is going on? Grh...!"

It was true, I was only seventeen years old and had killed several grown adults. I had done it quite a few times before and at younger ages no less. Regardless, I ignored his prodding questions, aiming the barrel of the gun at him. There were a million things I could have said to him in that moment, but the only thing I wanted to say...

"Tess."

Joel froze completely upon hearing that long-archaic name; His eyes clouded over as memories flew through his mind, and eventually he responded with a foul tone.

"How… do you know… that name?"

I grit my teeth, quelling the anger that surged inside me. I responded through clenched teeth, unable to utter more than a single word.

"...Father."