Chapter Two: Brooding Theories
They found no survivors in the Library. No sign that anyone attempted to barricade themselves inside. They took a small break, planning their next move.
"We should check City Hall and the evac centers." Said Bradley as he leaned on the table. Bradley was a tall man, in fact, all the members of the squad were quite tall. Bradley, however, was the only bald member of the squad. His neatly trimmed moustache was clearly visible since his helmet lay on the table.
"Mercy hospital." remarked Nash.
"That's right." Said Horton, "A hospitals a big place..."
"We're going to sweep the whole building?"
"If that's what it takes, yes. It is our duty to offer what ever assistance we can to survivors."
After resting for a little while longer, they picked up and left the library. The night dragged on over the city as they made their way to the city hall and the hospital stood towering in the distance, a beacon to would-be evacuees.
City hall was not far from their position and it took them little time to reach it. Many infected wandered the streets but the men preferred to evade rather than fight when possible. They approached the building which looked battered badly; there must have been survivors barricaded here at some point. They entered the building cautiously and the interior seemed to mirror the exterior. A court house look pervaded the place, being quite large and the main hall being the biggest of the rooms. The men's suspicions about it were confirmed by the overturned tables and book shelves forming a barricade across the middle of the room; it had been breached. On the opposite side of the barricade was a room to the extreme right and in it lay things needed for survival, namely ammunition and assorted canned foodstuffs. This had been a checkpoint for sojourning survivors now overrun evidently.
"Where is everybody? Isn't there even a single survivor in this city?" exclaimed Nash frustratedly.
"Captain, take a look at this." Said Bradley handing Horton a journal. A large portion was illegible, either having pages torn out or the ink being smudged. There was a small passage that the captain could make out however. He read silently to himself,
"The infected have found us here. They are breaking through, it's only a matter of time now. Those CEDA agents...they fought so bravely for us. They...they had to cover us as we ran for the building. I'll never know a more courageous bunch of men so long as I live. They were heroes. One of them didn't look so well, perhaps stricken with a cold or some other minor illness. It matters little now for they are at rest, may they rest in well deserved peace."
"What did it say?" Asked Evans.
"Just details of the breach. Stock up and move out." Replied Horton, tossing the tattered journal aside and walking away. Though he did not show it, or tried not to, something worried him. How were these CEDA agents turning? As they moved about, an unfamiliar voice sounded from behind them,
"Who's that out there?" They turned to face the voice and saw an old gentleman pointing a gun at them. He wasn't retirement age old but his hair was thinning and beginning to turn gray. His clothes, a black coat with brownish pants, were shabby; they hinted at long time estrangement from home.
"Whoa hold on there, we're not infected." Said Horton
"I know...but you are CEDA." He eased his posture slightly, "so they up and left you fellas too, eh?"
"Seems that way. Who are you?"
"Name's Rob." He lowered his pistol and shook the captain's hand, "good to see some living people for a change." Horton nodded and said,
"I'm Horton, these guys are my squad." He introduced them each to Rob, who acknowledged them all with half a wave.
"Were you here when the place was breached?" Asked Horton
"No. Honestly, I just got here myself. I was lookin' for supplies. Didn't see anyone here when I came, no one living anyways." Rob answered, pointing at a room towards the back of the place, "the survivors made their last stand in there...it ain't pretty."
"Were you traveling with anyone before you came here? Do you know where there could be more survivors?"
"'Fraid not." Said Rob as he took a seat in a nearby chair. "I've been alone since the start."
"Wow. Guess you didn't move around much huh?"
"You got that right. I ain't lookin' to get myself killed out there. I just go out when I need supplies."
"That won't cut it forever. You can come with us, we're getting out of the city."
Rob thought about it for a second, then shook his head,
"I'll take my chances. I figure I'll just wait this thing out. I don't suppose you fellas will be the last to come through here."
"CEDA left us behind, you said it yourself. Rescues not coming. If you want out, now is your best, maybe your only shot."
"'Preciate the offer but I respectfully decline."
"One last thing; you said that they 'left us too', what did you mean?"
"I've seen other fellas like you around. At first I laid low when I saw em 'cuz...well look at you, all that fancy gear you got on ain't exactly standard issue. They've been at a few of the safe houses offering to escort survivors out of the city."
There was a short pause,
"You don't mind if we stock up on some ammo before we leave, do you?"
"Hey, it's for everyone. Just leave some for me will ya?" Rob chuckled.
They each grabbed a few clips for their weapons and after exchanging goodbyes, the five left the hall.
They were on the move again, this time heading for the hospital. There was mounting evidence pointing to something sinister, but what? All Horton knew was that CEDA was hiding something. As they were moving, they heard gunshots in the distance.
"Take cover!" shouted Horton. It was not the shots that worried him but rather what those shots would attract. They moved quickly to the nearest side of the street and hid under the shadow of a nearby canopy. Soon after they moved, dozens of infected flooded the streets, sprinting towards the sound that signified life; they had found at least one more survivor. Once the undead passed, Horton signaled to follow them to the source of the gunfire. They checked the area to ensure that no infected lingered and, seeing none, they moved out quickly. More gunshots were heard, now louder as the men approached what seemed to be a guard shack. It was not very big and sat in the front of a gate. The flash of the exploding gunpowder lit up the dark, small space of the shack. There seemed to be one survivor, one defending against the onslaught of infected.
"Engage those infected now!" Exclaimed the captain as he shot into the horde of zombies. The others followed suit, firing their weapons in bursts as the infected attempted to break down the door of the shack. The horde was thinning rapidly, but the door wouldn't last much longer. At last it came crashing down and the assailants began attacking the survivor. Moments later, Horton rushed inside and, with his sidearm, killed the remaining infected. The other four soon stood next to their captain. The survivor was badly injured; he was bleeding out. He made some signs with his hands weakly
"What are you trying to say?" Horton said, kneeling down beside the dying man.
"It's sign language..." Said Evans. "He says, 'thank you for trying'."
He made some more signs, his life was fleeting.
"He says, 'end it now...please.' " Evans interpreted forlornly.
Horton nodded reluctantly. He stood and aimed his sidearm at the man,
"I'm sorry." Said the captain as he pulled the trigger. Horton took of his helmet, signs of weariness were seen in his face. Horton's usual short brown hair and neat beard were becoming slightly scraggly; he hadn't had a chance to groom himself in a while, given their current situation. It was a solemn moment for the five. If anyone else was aiding their search for survivors, it sure didn't seem like it. Now on the move again, they continued heading for Mercy hospital.