Author's Note: Well how about that? An update that didn't take me 8 years to pull out this time around?!
It's nice to see some of you still remembered me!
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Chapter 9: Psychopaths
Night was falling, the bell tolling to signal the new hour.
For the former citizens of Willamette, Colorado lumbering about on the mall's grounds, another kind of change was brewing, one that would turn them from their formerly docile, yet still deadly shells, into something far more sinister and ravenous.
With the tolling of the bell, one particular citizen shambled about until he came to a sudden halt and he began convulsing violently. When the seizure concluded, his once milky eyes opened to reveal glowing red orbs...straight from the bowels of a man-made hell.
When the tolling concluded his undead brethren joined him, their glowing red eyes illuminating the darkness around them.
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Chuck now stood at the doors leading to Leisure Park, having barely avoided the swarms of zombies still loitering about in Paradise Plaza.
Night was fast approaching and he had a sinking feeling forming in the pit of his stomach. He couldn't pinpoint the cause, but he had a dread feeling something was about to change for the worse and the darkening sky only added to the tension as he struggled to keep himself focused.
"C'mon Chuck, no time to chicken out," he whispered to himself holding a shotgun in his clammy hands.
His objective was to reach the under construction North Plaza, where Otis informed him of the presence of a gun shop called the Huntin' Shack, as well as both a supermarket, home center and cutlery shop, all of which could have much needed supplies. As it was anywhere in this accursed shithole, the place was bound to be crawling from top to bottom with more of those zombies.
But for some reason, things started to feel different.
Pumping the shotgun, Chuck edged the door open and right away, he felt the ball of ice within the pit of his stomach explode, sending a fresh chill coursing throughout his body.
The zombies...all of them, their eyes were now glowing blood red.
Chuck looked over to the clock tower in the center of the park to see that it was now just after 7 p.m.
"Does the nighttime make them more aggressive?" he wondered aloud, not having much time to ponder as several zombies came rushing towards him, and with greater speeds than what he was used to.
He raised his shotgun and fired a blast into the chest of the closest zombie before waiting for two more to get close together and dropping them both simultaneously. A skinny woman approached and she would find herself split in half by a blast to the abdomen, her upper torso still clawing towards the former motocross champion before he finished her off with a curb stomp. A fourth blast rang out and a knife-carrying zombie's head was obliterated and following a fifth, an undead construction worker was stumbling backwards, taking two of his brethren with him. The sixth and seventh blasts were followed by former citizens being torn to bloody shreds and the last blast ended with a man's heart being decimated.
Then the shotgun clicked empty.
"Damn," Chuck muttered as more zombies closed in, attracted by the shotgun's loud blasts.
There was no time to reload. He had to move.
He shoulder tackled his was past two of the zombies and then leaped into the air to drop another with a flying kick, the snarls growing louder in volume as he edged further along, feeling the wind from missed swipes and listening to the tearing of material as those who managed to get close enough tore chunks from his shorts and jersey, yet thankfully not into the flesh beneath.
"Not tonight bitches," Chuck grunted pulling out a nightstick and shattering the jaw of a gangly man reaching towards him before spinning around to crack the orbital bone of a once beautiful woman in a tattered party dress. He continued his forward onslaught until he was coming to the steps leading up to the North Plaza and it was then the nightstick finally snapped in half. There was no time to reach for his Defiler as he pushed his way through the doors.
The former motocross champion stepped into a plaza mostly under renovation, several of the zombies stumbling into the empty fountain in the center upon hearing his arrival. In the distance he could see an overweight woman still pushing a shopping cart around and not far from her was another man pushing a propane tank around on a dolly. He was tempted to shoot the tank, but the zombie pushing it wasn't close enough to others, thus resulting in minimal casualties.
"D-Don't just stand there! Kill those AAAAHHHH!" an unseen man shrieked, coming from within the Crislip's Home Saloon to his immediate right.
Chuck ran and knocked the woman over, stealing her cart and making his way into the hardware store to find another one of those looters being torn apart and nearby another making a futile attempt to fight off the approaching ghouls with just a nail gun before he too fell beneath the mass of decaying flesh. As he looked around the large store, he found more clusters of zombies piled around and tearing into unseen victims, perhaps more of those looters who had tried to make some kind of last desperate stand.
Unfortunately for Chuck, the zombies had taken notice of him and were beginning to close in.
Chuck shoved the shopping cart into a nearby zombie before raising his Defiler and brought it down vertically onto another zombie, slicing deep into its neck and nearly decapitating it. He then spun around and with the combo weapon extended to knock down several zombies at once and continued slicing and bludgeoning away at a manic pace until the mighty weapon snapped in two at the worst time possible.
"Dammit! Not now!" he grunted aloud as a blond-haired male closed in on him and grasped his shoulders. He brought his boot up to kick the man away, only to find himself tackled to the blood drenched floor by another undead Willamette citizen that was just inches away from tearing out his jugular.
"You people-" he spat while placing his hand beneath the man's chin, "-are really starting-" he said finally moving his hands up and getting a firm grasp on both sides of his head, "-to fucking piss me off!" he screamed and with the psycho power coursing through his veins, managed to snap his aggressor's neck.
Tossing his attacker's corpse aside, the former champ struggled back to his hands and knees in the pool of sticky blood which he lay, more zombies inching towards him, again nearly losing his balance as he tried to sidestep a swipe from a balding man, using him as a springboard to get himself to a dry spot and landing conveniently next to a chainsaw.
"Time to rock n' roll!" he said scooping up the chainsaw and pulling the cord, rewarded with a deafening buzz that had never before sounded so beautiful.
He looked up to see more zombies approaching, their eyes glowing like embers straight from the depths of Hell.
"Come and get me!"
The racer swung the chainsaw outward and what followed was a crimson flash as a line of former humans fell before him, followed by another as he spun his body and sliced another ghoul in half. He shot the blade outward and impaled another in a gory spectacle while shoving him backwards into another of his rotting brethren. He eventually sliced the offender in half and began waving the chainsaw's blade around wildly, seeing nothing but a red haze.
By the time the chainsaw had run out of gas, Chuck found himself surrounded by a mass of dismembered body parts.
"Bryce Hammill eat your heart out!" he chuckled when he heard a moan coming from behind him.
He turned around to find a lone survivor shambling towards him with its remaining arm extended.
"Come to join the party, huh?" he asked looking around for anything he could use and found a discarded shower head lying on the floor to his left. He scooped it up and stabbed it into the ghoul's head, watching passively as blood sprayed out until the monster fell over dead.
"Enough fun and games," Chuck told himself as he looked around the hardware store to see plenty supplies that would have enabled any other survivors around the city to erect protective barricades within their homes and it made him wonder if a metal door welded shut alone would be enough to hold the zombies at bay, especially when they became more aggressive at nightfall.
There would be plenty of stuff around he could craft some crude combo weapons out of and he reclaimed the shopping cart from earlier, going down the aisles and grabbing a few boxes of nails, two power drills, a tin bucket, propone tank, fire ax, another sledgehammer, a pylon, can of spray paint, a saw blade and cement saw. With his little "shopping spree" complete, he looked over to where another maintenance room awaited and he put his plan into motion.
Shoving the over encumbered cart out of the hardware store, he was forced to travel through a patch littered with ample amounts of gore, again finding himself struggling to stay on his feet as he pushed through, having to stop at one point to deliver a haymaker to a zombie that had gotten too close for comfort.
"C'mon, dammit," he grunted making his way over to the doors and forcing them open before reaching back to pull the shopping cart through and then shoving the doors shut behind him. There was a chain lying on a nearby shelf he scooped up to shackle the doors shut, listening to the pounding and scratching coming from the other side.
"Should buy me a few minutes," he said to himself as he emptied the cart and got to work.
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It had taken Chuck a few minutes longer than expected, but he now had some badass new combo weapons in hand and he was ready to show them off at the zombies' expense.
"Time to do this," he whispered, the shackled double doors shuddering as the relentless zombies threw themselves forth, calling out for their fresh meal.
"Now or never, Chuck," he said pulling out a handgun and firing a round into the padlock and with a loud snap, the chains fell to the floor and the zombies came piling in.
With a swing of his newly-crafted Defiler he knocked several zombies back at once before he fired up his drill bucket and slammed it down onto the closest ghoul's skull, a torrent of blood spilling out from underneath as the drills shredded the zombie's skull apart.
"That's right, come to me you rotting bastards!" he grunted, pulling out the air horn he crafted from the pylon and can of spray paint, depressing the trigger and firing a deafening burst that managed to disorient a few of the ghouls, while those closest saw their heads exploding. When a path had been cleared through the horde, he began inching his way through until he spotted a bright red sign with a large arrow pointing him to the Huntin' Shack down the narrow hall.
"Score," Chuck smirked when he heard another pair of hurried footsteps coming from his left and turned with the air horn raised.
"Whoa man, don't shoot!" cried a brown-haired man in a green t-shirt with a scorpion design on it.
"What the hell are you doing here?" Chuck demanded, stopping to strike down another zombie with his Defiler, "Haven't you seen this place is crawling with the living dead?"
"I know man, but listen, I got separated from my group!" the man said looking at the Huntin' Shack sign, "We were trying to score some guns so we could defend ourselves. I heard this is where the gun shop was and I figured I'd run into them here!"
"Looks like we both had the same idea," Chuck said swinging his combo weapon to drop another zombie, "I was heading there just now."
"Great! Me too. I'm James by the way," the man said looking hurriedly around.
"Chuck, now come on," the former champ said leading the way, swinging the Defiler back and forth to drop a few zombies barring their way through the narrow hallway.
"We're here," Chuck announced as they arrived at the front doors of the Huntin Shack, a small shop kept away from the others with display windows on both sides showing off the goods within. The place appeared surprisingly untouched.
"Alright, we should be good," James said charging past him and making his way through the double doors, only to be halted by the pumping of a shotgun.
"That's far enough ya' varmint!" a Southern-accented voice called out, the smell of alcohol heavy on the owner's breath.
"I'm only gonna ask ya' this one time an' ya' better be straight with me, boy! Who are ya' an' what the hell are ya' doin' here in my store?" the proprietor roared, a tall, hunched over man in a Western-themed shirt with a dark, shaggy beard that made him look like your typical mountain man and a fire engine red nose that gave away his self-destructive habit.
"Mister please, we need guns!" James said taking a cautious step towards the towering mountain man.
"Ha! I ain't givin' you nothin'! I seen how you people are. The second I give ya' somethin,' you're gonna be robbin' me blind!" the man roared, his aim never wavering as Chuck watched helplessly in the background.
"Look, mister, if we're gonna fight these zombies we need guns!" James pleaded, only for both of them to nearly jump out of their skin as the cynical proprietor fired a blast into the ceiling.
"Stay back!" he roared, "I trust them damn zombies about as far as I can throw 'em, but I trust people even less!"
"Don't shoot!" James pleaded frantically waving his hands around in front of him, "L-Let's talk this over!"
"You can talk to my 12-gauge," the man said keeping his smoking barrel trained on both men, "Don't get no closer or I'll blow y'all to kingdom come!"
Chuck remained quiet until he saw James taking a step forward, "Hey, hang on."
Too late.
The xenophobic mountain man pumped his shotgun and fired another blast, striking James in the chest and sending him flying through the front doors, all the while Chuck looked on in stunned silence.
"Now, goddammit! I warned ya'...in a situation like this, I can't afford to trust nobody!" he said, turning his attention to the former champ with a dark sneer.
The man pumped his shotgun, but Chuck reacted quickly and dove for cover behind a display case before he could be stricken by a barrage of buckshot.
"Ya' ain't leavin' this place alive, boy! Ya' might as well come out an' we can make this quick!" the deranged redneck shouted firing another barrage his way.
"No reasoning with this yahoo," Chuck grumbled to himself pulling out a pistol and sticking his arm around the case and firing blindly. The shatter of glass and the splintering of wood followed, yet no cries of pain let him know he had hit the mark.
"Y'all gonna squeal like a pig when I'm done wit' cha!" he shouted back before firing three more times, stopping when he was forced to reload.
It was then Chuck made his move, standing up and firing a barrage that struck the big man three times, yet he only staggered backward.
"Whoo hoo!" the redneck gunman shouted, finding dark humor in being shot as he quickly ducked behind the counter and reloaded his shotgun. "These are my guns!" he declared before firing another barrage in Chuck's direction.
Again, the former motocross champion found himself forced to roll out of the way of repeated shotgun blasts, the gun shop owner cackling madly as he fired away.
"Ol' Cletus is gonna hang ya' high and skin ya' alive when this is all over!" the madman shouted, "That'lll teach ya' to come tryin' ta' rob my store!" he shouted firing a barrage which grazed Chuck and sent him tumbling into a display rack.
"Ahh! Geez!" he grunted as he hit the floor with a hard thud. He felt the coppery blood running down his side and it hurt like a bitch with every breath he took.
Still, he had to keep fighting and he reached for a frozen pizza he had grabbed from the food court. Oh how it sucked so badly he wouldn't have the pleasure of being able to eat an actual cooked pizza, but right now he couldn't afford to be picky and he proceeded to scarf the pizza down as quickly as he could.
"Go time," he said pushing himself back to his feet and he looked up to see the gun shop owner (Cletus apparently his name was) chugging from a wine bottle. Taking advantage of his lapse in judgment, Chuck popped up and fired a burst into the drinking proprietor, only seeming to further enrage him.
"I'm gonna kill ya'!" he screamed as he bolted to the other end of the L-shaped counter hoping to get a better shot at Chuck, who was again forced to barrel roll to the right to avoid another blast and then another as he waited for the deranged redneck to run out of ammo. It was then he closed in on him and struck him hard with the Defiler three times before the man fell to his knees.
"Damn!" the owner gasped collapsing onto the counter. He was beaten down, out of breath and covered in blood, barely alive and yet, still trying to escape.
"Damn, mister! C'mon now! Wh-What're you, crazy?" the defeated man whined pulling himself along behind whatever cover was available.
"You want...You want guns so bad...that y'all willin' to kill for 'em!?" Cletus whimpered as he staggered out from behind the counter and tripped over his own feet as he pushed himself towards the front doors.
"Lemme go!" he cried wanting to get as far away from his victor as possible.
"Hey!" Chuck called out as the mountain man drew closer to the doors.
"Please!" Cletus bawled on last time.
"Hey, wait!" Chuck shouted a second time, but again he was too late.
As the frightened shop owner pushed himself through the double doors he was met by James, now a zombie. The undead man tackled him to the ground and began to devour him, ignoring the man's final, desperate cries as Chuck could only stand by helplessly, diverting his eyes from the sickening scene taking place before him.
"Poor bastard," he muttered, finding it darkly ironic that Cletus had killed James, only for him to return the favor after reanimating. The realization left Chuck to wonder.
"He didn't die from a zombie bite. He was shot. Could it be possible that whatever is affecting these people makes it possible for a person to become a zombie regardless of whether or not they are bitten when they die?"
It made the former champ freeze in place and begin shaking uncontrollably.
"Could this virus be airborne? If so, am I infected? Oh god, could Katey be infected too?"
He returned his attention to the shop and saw an empty duffel bag lying behind the counter. Remembering why he was here in the first place he scooped it up and went about his personal mission, gathering a few shotguns, a few handguns, a scoped hunting rifle, and plenty of ammo that could hold his group over for a few days if necessary. With everything he could carry, he made his way back to the entrance, stopping when he noticed a strange detail as James continued feasting on Cletus' corpse.
Even through all the decay, he could make out the strange red bump on the back of James' arm.
"I wonder if that's connected. It was something I didn't see right away. Weird, but who the hell knows," he thought to himself as he heard more zombies approaching, drawn like moths to a flame by the gunfire.
Chuck stared uneasily toward the approaching horde and then looked over his shoulder, his malaise turning to defiance.
"If I'm going to die, I might as well make my time left worth something," he thought to himself before reaching onto a nearby wall and pulling the moose head off, pulling it over his head like a helmet. Getting down into a three point stance like a football player he made his charge, antlers at the ready as he threw himself into a sea of living dead, goring several ghouls back to death in his wake. When a sizable swath had been cut through the mass he tossed the stuff animal head aside.
"I've gotta get the fuck outta here," he huffed as the fatigue set in, yet still there were more red-eyed zombies alerted to his presence and quickly descending upon him.
Then he remembered the crude I.E.D. he had crafted and he took a position in front of the fountain. He waited for the zombies to draw closer before he tossed it with a hearty 'oomph' and it rolled to a stop.
"Bite this, you bastards," Chuck said pulling out a shotgun.
He fired a blast that struck the propane tank head on, resulting in another massive explosion that swallowed the nearest zombies whole and sent burning nails flying through the heads and bodies of nearby stragglers.
With the problem dealt with, Chuck stepped back outside into the nighttime air, rife with the stench of death and the ragged gasps of the zombies nearby, most of whom could hear the sound of the glass doors slamming shut behind him and turned their attention towards the North Plaza entrance.
But the zombies would soon be the least of Chuck Greene's worries when he heard the revving of an engine, followed by gangsta rap music...
...and then the hyena-like laughter.
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"Quick, get that fat broad over there!" Sam Franklin shouted while slamming on the Humvee's gas pedal, the powerful vehicle lurching violently forward.
"Hey, easy there man!" Reginald Jenkins called from the back after nearly losing his grip on the heavy machine gun when he was pulled forward by the centrifugal force.
"Oh quit being a bitch!" Miguel Sanchez shouted back from the passenger seat as they raced towards his latest target, delivering a powerful swing to the infected woman's rotting cranium with a sickening 'thuk,' and prompting another hysterical whoop from Sam next to him.
"Damn, you oughta' try out for the Aspens...until it's my turn that is!" the insane driver cackled.
"In your dreams, junior," the Mexican-American convict shouted back.
Willamette, Colorado had descended into pure, unadulterated mayhem and the three convicts wasted no time in joining the party upon escaping from their prison transport.
It wasn't long before they happened across a group of soldiers being overwhelmed by those sick-looking people and jacked their wheels, laughing at the final soldier's misfortune as he was devoured whole by the frenzied mob.
Freedom was all too sweet for the homicidal trio, who had spent much of the day looting, raping and murdering, now in the process of making a game out of their killing spree, hoping for some kind of challenge.
So far, all of those sick people were barely putting up any kind of fight and most of the living people were either dead or hidden away somewhere, the trio having gone over an hour without tasting the blood of a fresh soul.
For some reason, all of these sick people were drawn to the Willamette Parkview Mall and they made their way there hoping for a break in the usual monotony.
"Hey, look over there!" Miguel pointed with his bat.
"Jackpot," Sam laughed before slamming his fist down on the horn.
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Chuck was rattled from his thoughts by the honking of a horn and he looked up just in time to see a Humvee speeding towards him, occupied by three men clad in orange prison jumpsuits, barely noticing the baseball bat directed at his skull. Throwing himself to the grass he barely dodged the swing, the wind ruffling his hair.
With a grunt the former motocross champ pushed himself into a seated position, listening to the hysterical laughter coming from behind him.
"You missed, loser!" the thug manning the heavy machine gun shouted followed by another bit of laughter.
"Get your aim right, brother!" the driver whooped before patting his passenger on the back and pointing towards a nearby couple that came staggering into view.
"Alright! Looks like we've got our next contestants!" the bat-wielding thug announced in his thick Spanish accent.
"I'm gonna take out the dude and snatch his old lady!" the driver shouted as his companions laughed maniacally in the background. "Here we go!" he said shifting the Humvee into drive.
"No!" Chuck shouted rising to his feet as the Humvee sped away from him.
He could only watch in horror as the convicts sped towards the frightened couple, the driver beeping the horn all the way up until his passenger's bat struck the man's skull with a sickening 'thuk.'
"No, dammit no!" Chuck shouted as he watched the woman collapse into a sobbing wreck over her fallen companion as the Humvee came to a screeching halt and the driver shifted into reverse, speeding recklessly in the woman's direction and forcing her to flee further into the zombie infested park.
"Hey! Over here, assholes!" Chuck shouted drawing his shotgun and firing a blast into the army vehicle's reinforced surface, dodging to the side as the Humvee nearly ran him over and the gunner fired upon him.
He squinted through the wall of staggering zombies in the distance and could see the woman running towards the small pond, still visibly scared out of her mind. He needed to get to her fast and pushed himself back to his feet running after her.
"I'm gonna kill you!" he heard one of the convicts shout and pushed himself harder as he heard the Humvee speeding up behind him.
"Perfect time to play the hero, Chuck. You've got a whole bunch of zombies still running around, three psycho convicts on your tail in a Humvee with a freaking machine gun and you can barely see shit in front of you," he thought to himself before he was forced to dodge a swipe from an approaching zombie, who would later find a gaping crater in his chest as the gunner again opened fire. "Your luck's gonna run out sooner or later."
"Whoo hoo!" he heard the driver calling out as the Humvee drew dangerously closer to him and he looked over to see the passenger preparing for another swing with his trusty bat. Chuck kept running until he could feel the heat of the engine on his hind end and barrel rolled to the side, the escaped prisoner's bat connecting with the skull of another zombie.
"Damn bro, you could barely hit the broad side of a barn!" the driver taunted his companion just before crashing into a tree, buying Chuck invaluable time to get to the woman.
"Help! Someone help me!" the young woman shouted while running towards the water, a few wading zombies nearby lunging after her.
"Over here! Come here!" Chuck shouted to the frightened woman, drawing his Defiler and cutting down a zombie that had gotten precariously close.
"Come with me. I know a safe place where you can hide from these bastards!" Chuck shouted over the strangled roars of nearby zombies, followed by the honking horn.
"No! They're really this crazy?" he asked himself looking over to see the Humvee charging towards the pond and driving in, running over a few zombies before the driver managed to right himself and resume his pursuit, laughing like a hyena all the way.
"Come on," Chuck said grabbing the woman by the hand and leading her away from the pond, the duo then running along a paved trail while dodging the lunging strike of ravenous zombies along the way. The hysterical laughter of the criminals came from behind them, followed by the thuds of them plowing their way through any zombies that had stumbled into their path.
"Goin' down!" he heard the driver shout.
"C'mon Chuck, think fast!" he told himself and saw the lamppost in front of him. Without warning, he grabbed the woman around the waist and leaped to the side, being rewarded with a loud crash as the Humvee struck the lamppost head on, leaving the convicts stunned.
He looked over to see the passenger slumped over with the baseball bat lying on the ground next to him. Running over he snatched the slugger up and swung it three times into the man's skull, rewarded with a sickening crack and then brain matter covering the wooden surface.
"Son of a bitch," the gunner shouted taking aim for Chuck and unleashing a stream of high velocity rounds in his direction, forcing the chivalrous ex-champ back to the woman and once again grabbing her by the hand.
"Kill 'em all!" the driver shouted, the blood lust more prevalent now that one of his buddies had just been killed, taking a sharp left turn and giving his gunner room to fire another torrent of screaming lead upon his prey.
Chuck cursed with every shot fired upon him, flecks of gravel and dirt smacking against him with the force of tiny daggers as the ground was torn apart behind them. Yet the adrenaline coursed through his system at a manic pace and it was through this natural enhancement he was able to safely lead the young woman out of harm's way.
Unfortunately for the surviving convicts, the driver's mania got the better of him as he whipped the heavy vehicle around with reckless abandon, careening sharply to the left and slamming into another lamppost, leaving him dazed once again.
Chuck saw another opportunity and leaped onto the back of the Humvee, sneaking up on the stunned gunner and wrapping his arms around the man's neck in a tight stranglehold. After a bit of struggling, he snapped the man's neck with an audible crack.
"You son of a bitch!" the driver shouted, shifting the Humvee into reverse and forcing Chuck to grip the machine gun's handles. "You're going down loser!"
The driver jerked the steering wheel to the left and right, violently rocking the small surface and it was only a matter of time before Chuck was thrown back to the earth.
"Dammit!" he grunted, another fresh wave of pain shooting through his body as he struggled back to his feet, only to find himself blinded by the Humvee's headlights.
"Just you and me now, blondie!" the lone convict cackled, "You're gonna be sorry you iced my boys!"
Unknown to the distracted driver, another zombie was onto his scent and grabbed him from behind.
"Hey! Get off me!" he shouted while punching at the zombie, unwittingly stomping the gas pedal and sending the Humvee rushing forward.
Chuck managed to roll out of the way and the stolen military vehicle lurched violently back and forth as the convict kept one hand on the wheel, while fighting to get the zombie off him.
"Get off me you son of a bitch!" Sam cried as he shook the wheel and the whole vehicle along with it, finally managing to get the zombie off of him, but the distraction had cost him dearly and he was sent crashing head on into the Paradise Plaza building.
Chuck grimaced at the loud collision, opening his eyes to find the convict splattered against the wall.
"Damn...that's gonna leave a mark," Chuck darkly quipped and he walked away just as his transceiver began ringing again. With a deep grunt he picked it up, "Hello?"
"The Space Rider machine in Wonderland Plaza looks like it's outta control. Maybe there's somebody out there. You wanna check it out?" Otis asked.
"Sure thing, Otis. But first, I've got another survivor needing to be dropped off," Chuck replied before putting the transceiver away.
With the threat dealt with, he turned to see the woman staring off into the distance and he ran over to take her by the hand, "C'mon, it's not safe here."
"I can't believe those maniacs killed him. I never got the chance to tell him how I feel," the woman muttered.
Chuck nodded in acknowledgment to the grieving woman, "I'm deeply sorry for your loss."
"Thank you mister, I really appreciate it," the woman nodded back to him.
"You can call me Chuck," he replied.
"Sophie," was all the woman offered as he led her back inside.
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Author's Note: The scene where Chuck references "Bryce Hammill" is meant to be a spoof of Bruce Campbell from the "Evil Dead" series and I figured it was only appropriate given we just saw Chuck slicing through a bunch of zombies with a chainsaw.
As for the scene that followed with Chuck's confrontation with Cletus, the mark he discovers on James' arm is meant to be a harbinger of things to come in the next chapter. It was my way of trying to explain how a man can be gunned down of all things, only to come back as a zombie with no explanation.
I trimmed down a lot of what I had in the original version of this chapter, figuring I might focus on anything original in later chapters if it comes down to that.
I also recalled how the Convicts didn't have their own ending sequence in the game, so I improvised one of my own. The battle itself between Chuck and the Convicts was inspired by a clip I saw from "Chop 'Til You Drop" years ago on YouTube.
For survivors rescued in this chapter:
Sophie Richards, 25
Well, I think that about does it so until then, read and review! This is Metal Harbinger saying KEEP IT FUCKING METAL!