Forums → Art, Music, and Writing → Biohazard Nation (Posted by the real author)

Same problems with the one KoS posted - you have no exposition really at all, so the reader is kinda thrust into the situation without knowing what's going on. At least now, the characters show no real personality, but this isn't a problem if you develop them more later on. Also, you have quite the affinity for pleonasms. Pleonasms are unncecessary words that won't change the meaning of the sentence if they're removed - for example, in the phrase 'hunting down the pleonasms' the word 'down' is unnecessary. While good every now and then, you overuse them a bit.

One last thing . . . you're fairly good about this, but try to use adjectives and adverbs less, and stronger verbs/nouns more. This is a good piece, but if you take into account some of the stuff I mentioned and revise it, you'll have a great chapter 1.

I appreciate the feedback. I wrote this 8 months ago, and since then my writing has improved a lot. In the later chapters, I even add the first few pages of the update in italics, and it's from any given character's POV before the outbreak.

I do try to make each character have their own personality. And the origin of the virus will be explained later on, having part of the chapter be from the President of the United States POV, a representative of the CDC, a reporter, hell even an astronaut stranded aboard the International Space Station just to give a basic overview of what's happening in other places of the world and how fast the infection is spreading.

Around chapter 10 or so, the writing does improve. I will eventually go back and edit the chapters, but for now I want to concentrate on finishing it. Only around five chapters left, and they're long ones.

Although I am upset over KoS stealing your story, As a fellow (failure) writer, I must admit, the story is pretty good. I want to know more about it, so when you have about half on here, I think all the readers will have a good idea about the characters and the zombie virus. Just hurry and finish it up mkay? ;D

Plan on doing so. Work early tomorrow, but when off I plan on working on chapter 34.

It basically deletes the user as well as all their posts.

Not their posts, Parsat. A users posts and comments still remain, however links to their profile all end up as error pages.

Well, here's Chapter 2. Like I said, I'll post one a day since there's so damn many typed up already lol I might consider posting what's already been posted first before reverting back to one a day. But for now...

Chapter 2


"Form a line!" Sergeant Tyrell Keyes' voice boomed over the mass hysteria of citizens behind his platoon evacuating the city. Dozens of the undead were stumbling towards his dwindling team, mouths open wide and moaning for another meal. He had lost two men just this afternoon from the undead bastards, both eaten alive. Two others had suffered wounds but made it out alive. Including himself, only seven people remained of the ten-man squad. How many more would he lose to this epidemic that was sweeping the nation? Tyrell had been on the front lines in both desert storm and the war in Iraq. He thought he'd seen just about all the carnage and decimation that war had to offer, from civilians being used as shields to bombings of innocent people. The Sergeant had killed countless insurgents in battle, always using the mentality of it being him or them. But what was going down in the city now, throughout probably the country, was just unthinkable. The very people he spent the last twenty years of his life fighting for he was now gunning down in cold blood. Race, gender, age, or social class didn't apply. These... things didn't seem to have a specific group.

The sounds of rifles cocking snapped him out of his transfixed mind. His M9 Beretta trembled in his hands as he held up his megaphone once again and ordered his men to fire. The staccato of the rifles rocked the street as his men open fired and the undead were peppered with gunfire. Clothes and flesh exploded in a crimson shower as the hot lead tore them apart. However, only a few went down. His men weren't aiming for the head.

"Aim for the head! Make every shot count!" The Sergeant growled. "Yes sir!" The unit replied in unison. Sergeant Keyes dropped the megaphone on the hood of a police car and raised his sidearm, picking off a few close shamblers. He never let a situation get the better of him. Then again, he was a having a lot of firsts today. As the handgun kicked in his hand and a woman's head was split in two, he began to worry. More and more of the shamblers had begun stumbling out of the dark shadows of alleys and buildings, creeping over broken window displays. Keyes ejected his magazine and quickly slapped in a fresh one, not bothering to pick up the empty as it clattered to the street. He holstered the sidearm and unstrapped his rifle from his back.

"Do not let them break the line!" He ordered over the gunfire as he switched the rifle to fully automatic.


"B-but sir, they're everywhere-" One of the soldiers began.

"That is a direct order, soldier!" Using the police car's hood, he propped his gun up and began firing on full-auto, spraying back a seemingly endless wave of the...

"Go ahead and say it." He mumbled. "Zombies."



Private Mark Jones felt like shit. The rifle in his hands was growing heavy. After each shot fired, the recoil from the stock almost knocked him over. His aim was off, none of his shots seemed to hit home. The private let the rifle fall from his hands as his rifle clicked empty. He left the smoking gun on the ground as he stumbled over to the pavement and collapsed, the bite wound he'd received on his tricep earlier was throbbing and bleeding again. He'd tried helping some bitch up from the ground, only to find out she was a shambler. Before he could take her out, she reached up and ripped a large chunk out of his arm.

"Son of a bitch..." He mumbled to himself as he shakily stood up again. He looked down at his arm and saw his uniform becoming soaked with blood. Private Jones grasped the bandage and unwrapped his arm, eyes going wide with shock when he saw what lay beneath the drenched bandages. The skin around the wound had turned gray and rotten. His now purple veins bulged out, yet they seemed dead. He had lost most feeling in the arm, and could barely close his hand.

"Jones! What the fuck are you doing?" Sergeant Keyes' voice boomed in the background, it seemed very far away.

"S-Sarge..." Jones said as he stumbled forward, arm outstretched. He collapsed and his knees and threw up blood, the pavement below becoming soaked with a deep red.

"Medic!" He heard somebody cry, but his vision was now blurring and reality as he knew it was rapidly spinning away. He was beginning to see things differently. A thin shade of red seemed to apply to everything he saw. Hunger arose in his stomach as the team's medic Kelsey ran to his side, dropping her rifle and opening up her medical bag.

"Just hang tight Jones, you're going to be fine." She assured him as she tried getting him to lay down again. Mark Jones was not going to be fine. The soldier's head wobbily rolled to look over at her as she said something else that was lost between the gunfire and moans of his new breed. Mark grabbed her by her head and sank his teeth into her neck, welcoming the warm flow of blood that ran down his chin and the warm flesh in his mouth. Kelsey let out a surprised gargled yelp as he bit down again, this time on her throat. He yanked his head back, tearing out her Adam's apple and feasting hungrily. Mark let out a long and mournful moan, losing himself to the insatiable blood lust. Private Mark Jones was no more.


Sergeant Keyes turned his head when he heard the medic scream.

"Jesus..." Private Mark Jones joined the ranks of the undead and was feasting on the medic's cooling corpse. "Take him out!" Keyes barked, turning his attention back to the advancing crowd. The street was littered with bullet-riddled bodies now, the advancing shamblers stumbling over them. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Corporal Styles kick Jones in the face. Jones clumsily fell backwards on his back. His former Private moaned and slowly sat up to a rifle in his face and ate a bullet, finally at rest.

"Oh fuck! Fuck! that's goin' to happen to me too, right?" Private Wallace yelled as he stopped firing. Keyes shifted his attention momentarily to the worried soldier. Wallace was also bitten just over an hour ago. "I don't wanna become one of 'em!" Wallace's eye darted between Keyes and the shamblers.

"Calm down, Private." Keyes took a single step forward with a hand raised before Private Wallace pulled his M9 out of his hip holster and rested it under his chin before pulling the trigger. A shower of brain matter and gore exploded out of the top of his skull, his eyes rolling back into his head as his legs gave out and Wallace collapsed on the street.

"No!" Tyrell Keyes focused his attention back on the shamblers, some of them now pressed up against the construction signs and cars being used as a makeshift barricade. He let loose a long string of fire into the zombies, splattering the city block with blood. As the remainder of his team concentrated their gunfire on the closest shamblers, nobody noticed the dead medic's hand twitch. Corporal Styles was standing right beside her, and he couldn't hear the faint wet moan emit from her throat over his rifle, or see her slowly crawling towards him. Kelsey grabbed a hold of his leg and sunk her teeth into it, the Corporal screamed and fell to the ground. Keyes abandoned his post and ran to his soldier's side, cringing as Kelsey bit down on Wallace's ankle.

Wallace howled as Keyes flipped his rifle around and bashed the stock down on the back of the former medic's head. After a sickening crunch, she moaned again and the Sergeant brought the carbine down once more. This time, her body spasmed and she stopped moving. Knowing that him and his men needed to move and they needed to do it now, he turned his attention to the three remaining soldiers, watching as the shamblers all started tearing apart the barricade.

"Hold them back, do not let them through!" He ordered. As the men open fired once again he crouched next to Corporal Wallace and wrapped an arm around him. "We need to move." The Corporal wearily shook his head.

"Sarge... I'm infected..." Keyes ignored the soldier and helped him up, noting how Wallace had a bad limp but not wanting to admit he was about to lose another man.

"You're coming with us." He turned to the trio of gunmen barely holding the line. Two of them had switched to their M9's, their carbines dry. They were all firing blindly now, desperate to keep the undead back. Wallace grimaced as he hefted his rifle and loaded a fresh magazine into it.

"Fall back, I'll hold them back for as long as I can, sir." The Corporal said, Keyes could see the fear in his eyes as his gaze rested on the seemingly larger mob of shamblers. Keyes was about to object, but the look in Wallace's eyes suggested his mind was set. The Sergeant saluted Wallace before calling out to his men.

"Fall back! I repeat, Fall back!" The three men on the firing line ceased fire and retreated, each slapping the Corporal on the back and wishing him luck. "God bless." Keyes said as Wallace open fired just as the barricade was broken. The zombies poured through like ants, spreading out once through and rapidly approaching the screaming Corporal as he unleashed hell upon them. Keyes turned and ran after his men, only stopping to hop in the back of the unit's Humvee, a Private already behind the wheel and awaiting orders. Keyes gave a swift nod of approval and the Private floored it. Keyes spared a glance back at Wallace as the vehicle sped off. A few shamblers had wrestled him to the ground and were tearing into him, the Corporal's dying screams could be heard as the distanced between them increased. The citizens unlucky enough to be at the back of the evacuation were being dragged to the ground and torn apart, the infection spreading like wildfire. All that could be heard throughout the city were the cries of the dead and dying.

"God help us all..."



"This is Private Tom Williams of the U.S. Army, Bravo team. Stationed in Times Square. I request immediate backup, multiple hostiles inbound. I repeat, if anybody's out there please respond, over." Katharina Ziesmann grunted as she pushed a lounge chair in front of the doors, fear creeping through her body as the doors rocked in their frame. The creatures outside threw themselves against the glass windows and doors, hissing and moaning as they tried getting in. Bloody smears streaked all over the once almost sparking displays. Outside she could only watch helplessly as defenseless people were brought down and ripped apart, their screams of help lost to the undead. Katharina pushed a strand of long brown hair out of her face. Just months ago she thought it was the end of the world, being fired from her position as a secretary of some corporate CEO for not sleeping with him. With her high-paying job gone she had to sell her apartment and move in with her close friend from college. Her friend had introduced her to Karen, who was beginning to open up many clothing stores throughout New York City. Karen had hired her on the spot, being close with her roommate. The work wasn't the most appealing, but it payed the bills. She cringed when the thought of Karen popped into her head, how the undead dragged her away screaming.

Katharina should have known something was wrong this morning when she took her daily morning job. The streets of New York were always crowded, but in the morning they were packed. Yet, she thought nothing of it. As she weaved in and out of people down the sidewalks, she noticed a police struggle with some bum. One of the cops held the snarling man down while the other tried to cuff him. As the handcuffs came on and they let him up, the officer holding him down managed to break free and bite him. Yet again, she thought nothing of it. Just another drunk, right?

The soldier that saved her continued his distress call, although deep down she knew nobody would come, everybody else was probably occupied with saving their own skin. Katharina turned away from the front of the store and looked for anything else that could be used to block them from getting in. They had already pushed all of the sofas and chairs up front, as well as the clothing racks. Once the windows broke though, she knew they were doomed.

The lying ass. Whatever. (KoS)

Anyways, like I said to him, this is a very good story. It's quite fun to read, and with writing that's all that really matters. Good job!

Can you edit posts? Messed up Cindy

These are the chapters already posted. I'm just going to put it all in one post.



"Shit!" Tom cursed as he put his radio away. The large rifle he held shook in his hands as he used his hand to wipe away perspiration on his forehead before turning to her. "Look, the longer we stay in here, the worse our chances are of us getting out. Those... things seem to be drawn to this place, probably from all the gunshots. Is there a back door or something?" Tom asked as he rolled the sleeves up on his uniform. She shook her head.

"There's just a storage room, but we can get to the roof from there." The soldier grinned.

"I'd sure as hell feel a lot safer up there, for the time being." She nodded. Tom slung the rifle over his back and pulled out his sidearm and flashlight. "Lead the way, I'll cover-" There was a loud crack that echoed throughout the store, they both cocked their heads in unison as the front window shattered and the undead came pouring in. "Take this, secure our route to the roof and I'll hold them back." The soldier said, shoving the large handgun and light in her hands. It was heavy, but it made her feel a little confidence.

"But-"

"Go!" His rifle was already out, he open fired as she turned and ran to the back of the store, the moans making her move faster. She let out a curse as she was engulfed in darkness. Her grip tightened on the handgun held out in front of her, guiding the way. The light illuminated various crates and boxes of clothing, purses yet to be displayed, cosmetics still wrapped up. Her heels clicked loudly on the concrete, sending a chill down her spine. She wished she didn't take off her running shoes before she showed up for work. Actually... this store did sell shoes.

Katharina quickly made her way over to the shoe section, sweeping the area with the gun first. She quickly shined the light over different pairs until she came across a pair of black converse. She grabbed the box in her size and made her way over to the stairwell door, amazed she didn't encounter any trouble. The metal knob was unusually cold as she turned it and jogged up the stairs, kicking her heels off at the top.

"Tom! It's all clear!" She yelled down as she opened the door to the roof- and was grabbed by one of the undead. Katharina screamed as it slammed her against a wall, her head cracking against it. The handgun clattered away on the roof as it slipped from her hands. She moaned in pain as the zombie leaned forward for a bite. "No!" She cried, grabbing it by the hair and scratching at its face. Its cheek was ripped off, chunks of rotten flesh ruining her manicured nails. If the zombie felt any pain, it didn't show it as a hiss emitted from its throat and it leaned forward again, taking her to the ground. It clawed at her shirt, ripping it at the shoulder as she struggled and screamed. Katharina turned her head in search of the gun, crying out when she saw it was out of reach. But her heel wasn't.

Her hand gripped the shoe and brought it down on the zombie's skull, the heel piercing through its temple. Blood spritzed out as its body jerked on top of her once before collapsing on her, dead. She quickly pushed the body aside and ran over to the gun, holding it close to her as she quickly looked around the roof, letting out a sigh of relief when she saw it was empty. Turning around she went over to the doorway and peered down into the darkness. All that could be heard was moans, and the gunfire from below had stopped.

"Oh no..." She squinted into the darkness, the light had fallen at some point in the struggle and she wasn't about to go back and look for it. "Tom?" Her voice was lost to the moans of the dead as she called out again. Tears welled up in her eyes, she did not want to be alone. She could hear a commotion coming her way. Katharina took one step down the stairs, ascending into darkness. "Tom?" No answer, she took another step down, shaking with fear. "T- oof!" The air was knocked out of her as Tom slammed into her. She fell back but was caught as Tom grabbed her arm and pulled her onto the roof.

Katharina looked down and saw hordes of the undead just a few feet from the opening. Tom ran forward and slammed into the door, chopping off a few fingers as the horde reached forward. He locked it before sliding back against it, out of breath. He didn't look good. His uniform was covered in gore, his vest had a large tear in it and his rifle was missing, probably lost in the skirmish. Tired eyes looked up at her as he slowly stood up and took the handgun from her, placing it in his hip holster.

"Are you ok?" She asked. He shook as head as he brushed past her and walked over to the edge of the roof, looking down at the chaos in the streets below.

"We're only two stories up, if we jump we could make it." He finally said after a long pause.

"Are you crazy? They'll get us!" She exclaimed.

"How long do you think that door is going to hold?" Tom asked, a hint of annoyance in his voice. "I risked my ass saving yours and went against orders. I'm not about to die up here." He said. Katharina looked away, hurt. Tom stepped forward. "Look, I didn't mean it like that. Let's just get out of here, ok? This place is a hot zone for them, our best bet is to get off this place and regroup with my team. I'll make sure you make it to the evacuation center." She nodded. Tom walked back to the edge and looked down as he unstrapped his torn vest. When it was off he removed a few items then tossed it aside, placing everything else in his utility belt. As he did this, she quickly laced up and put on the sneakers. Tom let out a grunt as he stretched his arms, she noted the camo t-shirt tight against his fit frame, and was wondering why he signed up for the army.

"Hey, look over there!" He pointed down the street. An eighteen wheeler was out of control. Cars were demolished as it smashed them out of the way. The undead and a few people alike were crushed as the semi swerved and slammed into the building across the street, there was a loud crash as debris went flying everywhere. Tom grabbed Katharina and dove to the ground, a large chunk of debris barely missing them. They slammed on the roof, her knees scraping against it hard. A wave of pain shot up her leg, Kathy gritted her teeth. Tom quickly stood up and peered over at the wreck. The zombies that had crowded in front of the store were now stumbling over to the wreck.

"Now's our chance, come on!" He yelled as he helped her up and led her over to the edge. She did not want to jump, she had always been afraid of heights growing up.

"Tom, I don't know-" Before she could protest any more, he grabbed her and jumped. She screamed as they fell onto bags of trash, cushioning the fall. But not completely, her ass hurt.

"Come on, we need to move." She was helped up as Tom pulled out his M9 and slowly jogged down the alley, stopping with his back against the wall. With the gun aimed down, he peered his head over the store to make sure it was clear before motioning her forward. "We need to make it past Times Square, my unit is stationed there." He said. Kathy shakily nodded, goosebumps creeping over her skin. A scream nearby made Tom look back into the street again. "Ok, let's go!" Tom ran out first with the gun aimed forward, only stopping to fire a once and down a lone shambler in front of the store. She followed quickly behind, inwardly thanking herself for her morning runs. They ran by the store and past the wreckage; a man was being pulled from the cab by three creatures that had managed to pry to door open, his throat was torn out but he still looked with it enough to feel the teeth clamping down on him.

She heard Tom's radio garble out something as the dodged over a few shamblers feasting on their victims. The soldier pulled unclipped it mid stride, bringing it to his ear.

"...peat all units fall back!"

"We're almost there!" Tom yelled as they came up on Times Square. Katharina kept close behind, not wanting to end up like the helpless people being devoured. As Tom rounded the corner into the main intersection he quickly stopped, his boots skidding to a halt. "Oh no... no, no, no!" He fell to his knees in anguish. Katharina caught up and looked ahead.

"Oh my god!" Her hands came up to her mouth, knowing very well they were going to die.



Sergeant Tyrell Keyes hopped out of the Humvee when it pulled up to a mass of army and medical tents strewn out across central park.

"At ease." He told his men before he weaved his way in and out of military personnel. The cries of wounded drifted from the medical tents as he came up to a large tent, intent with speaking to his Captain. The Sergeant was pissed, he and his team were sent in with very little information regarding what they were going up against. A single guard stood front of the entrance, looking very bored. As Keyes went to go in, the guard placed an arm out blocking his way.

"Where do you think you're going?" The guard asked. Keyes delivered a swift punch to his face, feeling his nose break when his fist connected.

"Fuck you." He spat as he entered. His Captain didn't look surprised as he entered, cigar in mouth and hands behind head as he lounged in a chair. Captain Scott Hurdleston didn't say a word as he took a long drag on the cigar and exhaled. Keyes stomped forward as the guard stumbled in the tent, blood dripping down his face, nose bent to the side.

"Sum bisch!" He yelled, aiming the rifle at him.

"At ease." Captain Hurdleston said. His guard looked surprised.

"B-but-"

"At ease, Private!" Hurdleston barked. The guard stomped out of the tent. "Yes, what is it, Sergeant?"

"You informed my team with incorrect intel. We were told this was a medical evac, not a fucking war!" He yelled. Captain Hurdleston stood up, short in comparison to him but still held an aura of power that seemed to surround him.

"At the time that's what we thought it was. Only minor casualties were expected, but every one of us is trained to handle these sorts of situations, it's what we signed up for, Sergeant."

"Minor casualties? Half my fucking team is dead! None of us are trained to handle whatever is going on out there!" Keyes yelled. He was very close to each and every member of his team, and he wasn't looking forward to writing the letters to their families. "I refuse to have my team back out there." He said. His Captain took a step forward and took another drag on the cigar before blowing it up in his face.

"Don't worry, they won't. We're all pulling out. New York City has been lost."


Chapter 4




A lone figure stood on the roof of an electronics store, mesmerized by two zombies ripping apart a corpse. He shakily reached into his pocket and pulled out a crumpled pack of cigarettes, fishing one and lighting it as the due directly below him managed to rip off an arm from the corpse. He had quit smoking for his wife years ago, but today... today was just one of those days. He took a long drag before exhaling a large puff of smoke. Screams came from all directions, making him cringe. Gunshots exploded throughout the city in a battle with an unstoppable army. Looking down at his .303 Sniper Rifle he took another hit, letting the smoke settle deep in his lungs before exhaling. He was one of the NYPD's best marksmen, assigned with covering the swat team as they tried maintaining order. But as more and more people took to the streets, and those... things began attacking anybody in close proximity, he had abandoned his post. Officer Nick Barron sighed as he took another drag on his cig as he recalled the days events.

It had been his day off, yet he'd been called in, all officers were. Nick had been pissed, it was his three year anniversary with his wife and he specifically called off months in advance. Yet, orders were orders and he couldn't do jack shit about them. Nick had kissed his wife goodbye and headed off to the station. Nick gritted his teeth and let out a moan of agony, wishing he'd done things differently; it was the last time he'd seen her alive. By the time he had showed up, the station had been packed with frantic New Yorkers with incredible stories. The chief had ordered the swat team to help the army with evacuations. Barron didn't know what was going on, and this frightened him. Once he witnessed firsthand as most of his team was overrun, he abandoned his post and headed home praying to God he wasn't too late.

A small tear slid down his cheek as he inhaled once more before flicking the cig over the edge. When he arrived at his apartment complex, the place was devoid of life. Feeling somewhat relieved he had jogged up the stairs not bothering with the elevator to his room. Outside the apartment, the door had been slightly open. Nick trembled as he pulled out another cigarette and lit it, wanting to forget what happened but knowing he couldn't. He had called out for his wife as he stepped in, Glock 19 drawn. If the bloody hand print on the fridge wasn't enough of an answer to what had happened or the overturned chair and smashed plate on the ground, a faint sound coming from the bedroom was. Nick had raced past the kitchen, barely noticing the small stove fire.

Officer Barron had stumbled into the room, and screamed in misery as a shambler looked up at him with blood encrusted lips and milky eyes that seemed to stare right through him. The zombie was standing over his wife who was sprawled out on the bed, a look of sheer terror on her face. Her ribcage was torn open, bones sticking up through her chest cavity, the zombie holding a handful of bloody entrails in its hands. He recognized the abomination though, it was someone that lived down the hall, Joseph. Joseph had a large gash in his through, and a kitchen knife lodged in his side. He recognized the knife as his own, realizing his wife had probably put up a fight. Joseph's necktie hung loose around his collar, his white button down soaked with gore. Nick fired once, Joseph's head snapped backwards and towards the open window. Nick had cried out and fired a few more times, causing Joseph to plummet out the window.

"If only I stayed..." Nick whispered as he sat on the ledge of the roof, peering over the edge once more as the zombies continued their feast. Officer Barron decided to see what was on the radio as he finished up the cigarette, having turned it off earlier.


"...ackup! Send backup now!" an officer yelled.

"Dispatch, we need an EMS uni-" another cried.

"They're everywhere! Jesus Christ they're comin' in all-" Nick turned the radio off again, a feeling of dread in the pit of his stomach. He grabbed the rifle and walked to the other side of the roof, feeling it was time to go. New York City was fucked, and he wanted to get out while he still could. Reaching the other end, he peered down into the alley, grateful that it was devoid of life.

"Here goes nothin'." Nick tossed his rifle down onto a few bags of junk before hopping over the edge, crouching on impact. He heard a moan behind him. On instinct, Nick pulled out his Glock and spun around into a crouch.

"Freeze!" He said, trying to sound confident. A zombie he didn't see slumped behind a dumpster stood up. In its previous life it had been a hooker; she was dressed in a short leather skirt with a neon pink thong sticking out and spaghetti straps. Her broken heels clicked as she stumbled forward. Nick thought about firing, but then thought against it, not wanting to alert any other undead. They seemed to be attracted to noise. He holstered his weapon and pulled out his nightstick, the cool metal heavy in his hands.

"Wrong day to be workin' the streets, honey." He said as he swung hard. There was a dull thwack as she stumbled aside, jaw hanging loose at the side. "Bring it whore." He spat as he swung again, harder. Her skull caved in as the nightstick connected and sent her sprawling to the ground. Nick put the nightstick away and hopped over her, going into a light jog down the alley. He stopped when he saw a lone squad car in the middle of the street, both doors wide open and lights flashing, illuminating the pile of corpses that surrounded the vehicle. From the looks of things, it looked like whoever was stationed here put up a fight. Over a dozen zombies were sprawled out in the street, riddled with gunshot wounds. He could make out an officer collapsed on the hood of the car, his face torn off.

Nick unstrapped his sniper rifle and peered through the scope, trying to distinguish who it was.

"DeLuca." He said, recognizing the cop from an unforgettable tattoo of a large cross going down his forearm with a psalm written around it. He wasn't exactly friends with the officer, but he'd seen him around the station from time to time. Even had coffee with him once, an overall nice guy. Nick lowered the rifle a little to see various handgun casings and shotgun shells littered around the car, along with an empty handgun and-

âNice shotgun.â He said, spotting a Spas-12 shotgun by the driverâs side. He noticed a box of shells on the seat, but couldnât tell whether there was anything in it or not. Nick used the rifle to see four zombies in close range to the car, theyâd need to be taken out before he could get away.

Nick Barron wasted no time, the sun was setting and he didnât want to be running around the city blind. He targeted the closest one, a fat man in a shredded mailman uniform. He stuck two fingers in his mouth and whistled loud. The mailman moaned as her turned to face the sniper.

âThat got yer attention.â Nick aimed for his head and fired. The .303 round blasted the top half of its skull off. He pulled the bolt back and aimed at a child. The kid was missing both his arms, but whether or not it felt pain he didnât know. He closed his eyes as he fired this time, not wanting to kill a child. Officer Barron heard moans in all directions now, the gunfire had gained him some unwanted attention.

âAh shit.â He said, pulling the bolt back and chambering another in. The two zombies were almost in a line as the stumbled forward. Actuallyâ¦

âOver here pussfuck!â He yelled, standing up from a crouch and walking a little to the right. The zombie in the lead moaned as it stumbled toward him, unknowingly stepping right in front of the other. âGotcha.â Nick pulled the trigger, the rifle kicking hard into his shoulder as the round blasted through both of the zombieâs heads. Nick quickly lowered the rifle and ran for the police car as a large group of zombies began encircling the car. His boots skidded on the pavement as he tossed his sniper rifle in the passenger seat and bent over and grabbed the Spas-12 shotgun.

âUghhhâ¦â

âGah!â Nick cried out as officer DeLuca grabbed his arm, trying to pull it to his bloody mouth. Nick whipped DeLuca across the face with the shotgun and pumped it.

âGoodbye, DeLuca.â Nick fired, completely obliterating DeLucaâs head. He grabbed the downed copâs pant leg and tugged him off the hood of the car before getting in. Thankful that the keys were still in the ignition, he fired up the engine and floored it out of there.

***********************


Private Tom Williams fell to his knees, a morbid feeling of loss overtaking him. Sprawled out across Times Square were the bodies of his squad. Hundreds of corpses lined the street, his team no doubt making a brave last stand.

âI donât believe thisâ¦â He breathed, not even noticing Katharinaâs hand on his shoulder. Was he the last one alive? No, couldnât be. He numbly counted the bodies in his head, noting that a few were missing. He hoped to God they got away. A gunshot to his left startled him. He cocked his head- and sprang to his feet.

âStyles!â He yelled, drawing his sidearm. He cursed himself for losing his rifle back at the store, but the bastards tore it from his grip. Feeling a bit bare without the rifle, he ran over to where Corporal Styles weakly swatted at the three zombies tearing into him, his handgun laying next to him with the slide back; empty.

âGet off of him!â He growled, firing the gun at point blank range. Stylesâ three assailants were gunned down as Tom rushed to his side.

âWilliamsâ¦â Styles moaned in pain.

âLook, youâre going to be ok! Just, umâ¦â He was no medic, he didnât know what to do.

âListen⦠get t-to central park, everyoneâsâ¦â Styles coughed up blood on himself as he tried sitting up, his eyes darting feverishly around as he saw the various bite marks on his legs and chest.

âDonât talk, just stay still.â He tried reassuring.

âTom, hurryâ¦â Katharina worriedly said as a few zombies began closing in on them.

âListen! Get there now⦠whole city is⦠isâ¦.â The Corporal began violently convulsing, his whole body jerking up before slumping down to the ground.

âCorporal Styles?â Tom jerked the soldier. âStyles! F***!â

âTom!â Tom closed Styles eyes with his hand, putting him at rest as Katharina screamed out another warning. He quickly looked around until he spotted what he wanted, another service rifle. It was right by the medic, Kelsey.

âHold on.â He said, running over to Kelseyâs corpse and grabbing the gun and fishing out a spare magazine from her ammo pack along with two more for his M9. He spotted Jones as well, a large hole in the top of his head. He managed to find another two magazines for the rifle along with one for his sidearm. Feeling somewhat confident with a little more firepower he ran to Katharina, who was backing away from a small group of undead. Wasting no time he raised the rifle, scoring perfect headshots and taking them out.

âLook, if we stay here we are royally screwed. Styles mentioned something about Central Park, I think itâs our best bet to head there.â He said, trying his best to maintain his composure. All of the killing was starting to get to him. It just didnât feel right gunning down innocent people⦠Theyâre not innocent. His inner voice reassured him.

âWhatâs going to happen to me?â She asked him, large pleading eyes looking back at him. Tom shook his head.

âI honestly donât know anymore. I donât even know if HQ is still holding fortâ¦â He trailed off, wondering deep down what was going to happen to himself. What would he do if HQ was overrun?

âTomâ¦â Katharina said. If the entire unit was gone, where would he go? Would he abandon his post?

âTom lookâ¦â Katharina said again. He knew where he wanted to go if the shit really did hit the fan. His grandfather didnât live too far from the city, and he had an outrageous amount of firepower. He was the biggest gun nut Tom knew.

âTom, snap out of it!â Katharina shoved him. âLook!â Tom turned his attention to where she was pointing. A police car was speeding down the street, slamming into the sides of cars and sending zombies flying over the hood.

âWhat the hellâ¦â As the car drove over the hundreds of bodies in the street, it swerved into an overturned bus. The zombies that had been advancing towards them suddenly turned their attention to the squad car. Tom could see there was only a single occupant in the vehicle, he was pulling something up-

Buckshot sent a ghoul at his window flying back as the driver racked in another shell.

âI gotta help him, stay close!â Tom told Katharina, rushing forward and firing his service rifle. The gathering crowd of shamblers started becoming larger as the crowded in on the trapped cop. Tom switched his rifle to full auto as the trapped cop fired off another buckshot and decapitated a zombie on the hood of the car and also shattering the cracked windshield. The zombie flew off the hood in a shower of glass and gore. Tom saw an opening for the car.

âYou two, get in!â The cop ordered, Tom noticed he was swat.

âKathy, get in!â He yelled, turning around and covering her. She jumped in the backseat as he emptied the rest of his magazine before hopping in shotgun. âGo, go, go!â Tom stuck his sidearm out the window and fired off a few more shots as the squad car worked its way through the wreckage before speeding off.

âJesusâ¦â He breathed, letting the handgun fall on his lap as he leaned his head back and relaxed for the first time all day.

âThanks for the help back there, I appreciate it.â The swat team member said. Before Tom could answer Kathy did.

âThanks for getting us out of there.â

ââEy, no problem. Iâm officer Barron by the way, but most people call me Nick. Can somebody tell me what the fuck is going on?â



Chapter 5





âKeep the line moving people, hey you- hurry it up!â Sergeant Tyrell Keyesâ voice boomed as he shoved a sluggish man forward. The yuppie had a tie wrapped around a bloodied arm and was tending to it as he was caught off guard and tripped forward into a woman.

âWatch it, asshole!â The woman snapped back at the man. The sergeant was growing tired and desperately needed rest, the fatigue of the job really settling in. The remainder of his team had been ordered to help a second team and a few remaining police officers to evacuate any remaining civilians via helicopters with an office building as the checkpoint. Tyrell losing his cool, which was something that he didnât like to happen. Numerous thoughts crossed his mind as he tried to follow out his orders. While he was busy helping ungrateful New Yorkers, he couldnât help but wonder how his own family was doing. Were they safe? Did his two kids make it home from school alright? Did his wife remember where he kept their home defense revolver?

âI hope youâre ok, Abigail.â He said to himself. He had tried calling earlier back at the park encampment, but the lines were busy. His train of thought was interrupted as fat, balding man stumbled up to him. He recognized him from earlier, Officer Garcia.

âSergeant.â The cop addressed him as he shoved the rest of his donut in his mouth. He wiped an incing filled hand on his pants and swallowed. âwe need to hurry things along. Those⦠things outside are all gathering towards this building. We canât hold them back much longer.â Garcia informed him. Tyrell shook his head.

âWeâre moving things along as fast as we can, weâre cramming the elevators to maximum capacity. Nobody is willing to trek up twenty-five stories up the stairs.â

âWhat if they reach this building?â

âThatâs shatterproof glass, correct?â The balding cop nodded his fat head.

âGood. Order your men to pull back. My men will reinforce this lobby. Nothing will get through.â

âAlright, I hope youâre right Sergeantâ¦â The cop hobbled away towards the entrance, where two soldiers stood guard, their rifles held tight to their chests. Keyes turned back to the mass of people still waiting in line for the elevators. The had to be about two hundred frantic people waiting. It would take hours to get them all up with only four elevators.

âDamn it,â Keyes unclipped his radio. âPrivate Sven, bring me a megaphone.â

âYes sir.â His radio garbled back.

It was going to be a long night.


********************


Nick Barron clenched the steering wheel as he swerved the car to avoid another of the infected. As the car sped by his eyes locked with the zombie as it looked up at the vehicle, its mouth wet with blood as it feasted on the flesh of its victim. In the rearview mirror he saw it slowly stand up and start advancing in the direction of the car.

âThis canât be happeningâ¦â He whispered to himself. The city had gone to hell in less then a day. As he sped down the abandoned streets more of the creatures began shambling out of shadows and stores, all with the same intent. Looking up into the sky past a burning building he saw the last remnants of sun gleaming down; he flipped on the headlights, the glow of their beams lighting up the street. He was grateful that the soldier had been there, if he hadnât been there he would have probably⦠ended up like his wife.

âOh, Carrie!â Nick cried, slamming on the breaks as tears flowed down his face. He couldnât keep it in any longer. The car came to a screeching halt as he began crying hysterically, the reality of the situation finally settling. He would never see her again. They would never have that family theyâd always wanted, never have a romantic evening out, never feel the warmth of each otherâs skin again. He felt the womanâs hands on his shoulders, heard the soldier trying to calm him down. Nick didnât care, heâd lost the most important person in his life today.

âOfficer, we need to move now!â The soldier yelled. Between sobs he looked up and saw three zombies shuffling towards the squad car. Rage crept through his veins as he snatched the shotgun and handgun and got stepped out into the street.

âBarron!â Private Williams yelled. Nick pumped the shotgun and fired at the zombies as they reached out for him, desperate for another meal. All three zombies were blasted by a hail of buckshot as he pumped and fired again, sending them all flying back.

âYou mother fuckers!â He cried, hot tears streaming down his face as he spun and blasted another just as it stepped outside of a shop, sending it back inside and to back to hell. The gunfire attracted more of them, he saw more of them appearing in the streets and making their way towards him.

âBring it!â He blasted a zombie through a shopâs window. âYou want me?â He fired the shotgun again, decapitating a former mailman. âYou want to eat me?!â He pumped the shotgun and blasted another, the gun empty now. He tossed it aside and pulled his .40 handgun out of its holster, aiming it at the closest zombie. âThen come fucking get me you sons of bitches!â The handgun jumped in his hands as he emptied the entire magazine into the zombie; its body jerking as the rounds slammed into it. âArgh!â As the zombie hit the ground, he jumped on top of it and started slamming the butt of the gun into its skull. One, two, three slams and the skull cracked.

âDie!â Four, five slams and brain matter was spilling into the street.

âNick, get yourself together! Youâre going to get us all fucking killed!â The soldier grabbed him from behind.

âYou bastards!â Nick spat as he managed to get a final kick into the bloody mess in front of him as he was pulled back to the car.

âKathy, open the door!â Tom yelled as he restrained Nick. Nick wept as he was tossed in the backseat and Tom got behind the wheel while Kathy hopped in shotgun. Tom slammed on the gas, barely speeding through a small crowd of undead that was gathering around the scene.


***********************************


âMove your asses! Double-time it people!â Sergeant Keyes yelled as he pushed a lounge couch on its side and helped one of his men set up an M60 machinegun.

âPrivate, once they break through, give âem hell!â Keyes barked. The scared soldier nodded and gave a crisp salute as he manned the heavy machinegun and ran over to find the head of command for the police. âOut of my way!â He growled as he shoved a young man out of his path, he didnât have time to be polite anymore, within a few minutes the creatures would break through. A quick glance over his shoulder only heightened his state of fear; hundreds of shamblers had gathered outside the business complex. The police had failed to hold the checkpoint and were forced to retreat back in the building, many of them were wounded. Former New Yorkerâs viciously slammed against the shatterproof glass, desperately trying to force their way in, the reward of a buffet of survivors too tempting to resist.

âGarcia!â The cop spun around, his handgun clenched in sweaty hands as he waved another group of people into the elevators. The people were loaded in shoulder-to-shoulder, packed in like sardines. Garcia turned and said something to one of his men before rushing over to the Sergeant.

âKeyes! We need about another half hour!â Garcia said as they met in the middle of the lobby.

âWe donât have that kind of time officer, weâve got five, maybe ten minutes tops before those fuckers break through.â The balding copâs head was beaded with droplets of sweat. He ran a hand over his head and flicked it down on the freshly waxed tile.

âShit! We already have both of the stationâs choppers helping out with the evacuations along with one from the hospital, canât you order any more Chinooks over to help?â

âNo can do, our forces are spread out all over this city. Weâre fighting a battle we canât win here. Our best bet is to evacuate and figure out a strategy from there.â As Keyes finished, a large cracking noise was heard. In unison, the cop and soldier both turned just in time to see a large crack spread out across the glass windows. The shamblers outside snarled in rage as they pounded their fist and bodies against it, leaving greasy, bloody smears against the large windows. Another cracked formed above the other one. The moans of the undead were growing now as one of the windows looked like it was about to give in.

âOh noâ¦â Officer Garcia trailed off, transfixed on the shamblers.

âGet a hold of yourself Garcia. Get all of your men up here, weâre going to need all of the firepower we can get. I gave four men up on the roof helping with evacuations, Iâll get two of them down here. Thereâs also one in each elevator⦠they donât need to be thereâ¦â

âRight⦠Iâll go get my men preppedâ¦â Garcia glanced back at the shamblers before scurrying away. Keyes saw another large crack appear, which got him moving. He strolled over to Private Sven who was chatting up the lobby receptionist.

âSven!â The Private turned and saluted.

âSir!â

âYou can chat up civilians later.â He glared at the receptionist, who quickly nodded before walking towards the elevators.

âGood luck!â She called back.

âNo, wait- ughâ¦â Sven called after her before looking back at his Sergeant.

âI need you to hitch a ride to the roof, get two men down here along with our men in the elevators. We need to hold this lobby for a bit longer before those things completely overrun it.â

âYes sir!â Sven pushed his way through a group of people, making his way to the front of the line. The Sergeant turned away and jogged over to a group of his men, who were nervously chatting amongst themselves, their rifles shaking in their hands.

âI need you all to form a line, use furniture, tables, anything you can to form a makeshift barricade to refortify this position. Weâre going to be engaging them any minute now.â

âPermission to speak, sir!â A young red-head said, it was Private Way.

âPermission granted.â

âWhatâs going to happen to us when they get through?â Keyes could see the worry in the kidâs eyes.

âOnce all of the civilians reach the roof we will evacuate.â Keyes said reassuringly. The kid shook his head.

âTheyâll overrun us, just like they did at Times Square! I didnât sign up for this, sir! I donât want to die!â Private Way nervously said. Sergeant Keyes grunted.

âYour orders are to hold this position, do you understand Private?â

âBut sir-â

âDo you fucking understand, Private?â Keyes boomed, stressing his last word. Private Way nodded.

âYes sirâ¦â

âGood.â Keyes walked back over to the middle of the lobby, surveying his men set up position. The once tidy lobby was now a mess. Every couch, table, and chair was overturned and a soldier or police officer had their firearms propped up on top of them, adrenaline flowing through their bodies as they waited for death to break through. Glancing back towards the elevators, he saw officer Garcia giving orders to two officers. Behind the cops, only about fifty or so civilians remained. Looking back towards the entrance, he saw the shamblers were still aggressive and persistent, but the glass seemed to be holding, for now anyways.

âMaybe, just maybe we can pull this off.â He said to himself. âActuallyâ¦â He ripped open the velcro pouch in his vest and pulled out a cell phone. He had a few moments to spare, he wanted to call his wife. His fingers trembled as they hit redial and the phone. His hand shook with anticipation as he raised it to his ears.

âCome on, babyâ¦â He said to himself. When he heard the dial tone his heart skipped a beat. âDamn it Abbi, pick up!â He said to himself. After a few seconds she did.

âTy?â She sounded out of it.

âAbigail! Are you ok? Where are you? Whereâs Jay and Raquel?â In the background he heard Raquel or Jay screaming and crying, he couldnât tell.

âIâm ok Ty⦠were home and safe. I picked the kids up from school earlier today, but one of the teachers bit me⦠oh Ty please come home, we need you hereâ¦â She trailed off, sounding really out of it. His heart sank.

âAbbi how long ago were you bitten?â He asked mournfully, putting a hand over his other ear as the crowd in the lobby became more frantic as more cracks began appearing every second.

âAbout four hours, but Iâm fine baby. Can you come home? We need you here⦠something isnât right Tyâ¦â Tyrell Keyes shook his head, tears welling up in his eyes. It took his men about six, maybe seven hours before they turned. His kids didnât have much time before their mother turned on them.

âAbbi I need you to listen very carefully, ok?â

âYeah, sure Ty, what is it?â

âTake the kids to Uncle Peterâs house and leave them there.â His heart was beating rapidly as he spoke. âReturn home and lock the door, donât leave the house until I come and get you.â

âIâm fine, really Ty, I am. And I donât trust Peter with the kids, I donât like how he keeps all them guns in the house.â

âAbbi, listen to me. They will be safe there. I need you to wait at home for me, ok? Please just do this for me, I donât have time to explain.â He prayed to God she would listen to him.

âOk honey⦠hey hold on someoneâs pounding on the door like a jackass.â Sergeant Keyes strained to hear what was going on as he peered over at the glass, it wouldnât last more then a minute.

âForm a line!â He shouted before listening back on the phone.

âHello? What do you- ah!â He heard his wife scream as she opened the door. He couldnât be sure, but he could have sworn he heard a moan followed by a sickening, wet crunch as he heard his wifeâs scream cut off by a wet gurgle. The last thing he heard was the phone slip out of her hands and break against the ground. The line went dead just as the glass finally gave in and hundreds of shamblers poured into the lobby.




************************




Captain Scott Hurdleston took a nice, long drag on his cigar. The smoke settled deep in his lungs before he blew it out of his nose. He was in charge, the man in power. He had full control of the city of New York and it felt great. He always liked having that feeling of power, whether it be in Vietnam and ordering his men to execute all the Vietcong, or here and having the undead bastards mowed down by gunfire. Deep down, he knew that they wouldnât be able to control this situation at hand. But when that happened, he would have an army at hand that would follow his every order.

âComplete control.â He grinned as he inhaled another puff. He planned on retaking the city eventually, but for the time being he would gain control of a place a bit smaller before the undead reached it, if they hadnât already. From their he could set up his base of operations, and move from there. Just the thought was getting him excited. A blood curdling scream outside his tent shook him from his little daydream.

âGod damn it, now what.â He mumbled as he grabbed his radio and ordered his guard in. Nobody replied. Gunshots began erupting from all around outside. âWhat the fuck is going on?â He flipped on the radio. âSomeone answer me!â He growled; nothing. âUseless peons.â He stood up and walked over to the tentâs flap, not bothering to grab his M9 handgun on the desk. He stepped outside and saw his men engaged with the undead.

âWhat the-â He was cut off as one of the undead suddenly appeared from the side of the tent. His hand reached down to his holster, and cursed himself for leaving his gun in the tent. He noticed the zombie was his tent guard, bite marks could be seen all over his body. Before the Captain could react, the snarling guard grabbed him by the shoulders and tore a large chunk out of his neck. The Captain cried out as he fell to the ground, his dream and his life fading away as the guard bit down on his throat. His vision faded to black, and Captain Scott Hurdleston thought no more.




************************




Private Tom Williams slowed the car down as he neared the outpost. He so desperately craved for some sort of sense of relief. He was tired, his muscles ached and his body groaned. His stomach had been growling for the last few hours, the thought of a meal hurt. Glancing in the rearview mirror he saw Katharina comforting Nick, who was silent now. He hadnât spoken a word since he lost it. Poor guy lost the most important person in his life today.

Tom had tried not thinking what was going on to his relatives and family, but he hoped they were ok. He himself had even been forming a sort of plan in his mind if all hell really was breaking lose across the entire world. If this couldnât be contained, then they were royally screwed. If the army lost all control, he planned on abandoning his post and driving straight to his grandfatherâs house in Pennsylvania. He had never known somebody with more firepower in his life. He had everything from a WWII Thompson machinegun to a modern day tactical target rifle. If shit really did hit the fan, he figured that his house would be the safest bet.

Looking back in the rearview mirror he noticed Katharina again, a long strand of hair drooping down over her face. Another day, another time⦠he wish he knew her before the outbreak. She looked away from Nick and glanced up at him, their eyes locking. Tom quickly looked away and focused on the road again. He looked back in the mirror a second later and saw a slight smile on her face as she rubbed Nickâs back.

âThere, thereâ¦â She cooed. Tom looked away and back at the road again, his military training kicking in upon remembering the situation. He could worry about his personal life later, the situation they were dealing with was a far bigger concern. As the squad car crept into the park, he heard gunshots. Lots of them.

âAwe noâ¦â He murmured, speeding up a bit, inwardly noticing that the two guards that were at the makeshift guard station at all times were nowhere to be found. The Private did not notice a streak of blood by a nearby bush, leading to a corpse of a fellow soldier hidden by the bush. As the main checkpoint and evacuation center came into view, his heart sank. Flames burned tents set up by the army. Utter chaos and destruction was everywhere, scared soldiers firing blindly as the undead attacked from all directions, grabbing whoever they could get their rotten hands on. He looked down at the medical tents and saw undead pouring out of them, the bandages they all wore soaked with blood. He saw a frightened nurse trip over her own feet. A second later one of the undead grabbed her by her ponytail, bringing her head up to its drooling face. It bit her nose off, blood spraying everywhere.

His eyes glanced over at a news van, three shamblers feasted on a downed reporter as a cameraman used his large camera to bludgeon one of them.

Further down, a soldier blasted a round into one of his comradeâs legs. The other soldier cried out as he collapsed and was instantly surrounded by the undead, they piled on him like a group of football players jumping on a receiver. The soldier that fired ran away, throwing his rifle to the side and disappearing around some trees.

Up above, he saw one of the Chinooks swerving out of control, lights flashing and a loud whirling sound filled the air. A small group of soldiers that seemed to have their position secure stopped firing and looked up in fear as the Chinook slammed down into them, ending their lives instantly and exploding in a ball of fire, consuming both the living and the dead in a wall of flames. From the wreckage, flaming shamblers began climbing out, the fire burning off their clothes and melting their skin.

âOh shitâ¦â Tom breathed.


Chapter 6


âOh no⦠no, no, NO!â Tom grabbed his rifle and jumped out of the police cruiser, not bothering to close the door as he ran into the battle, agony overtaking him as his friends, people heâd grown close to over the years were being overrun by the living dead.

âTom!â Katharina screamed after, getting out of the car as well and calling out to him. Nick looked up, still in the backseat of the car. Katharina turned towards him. âHeâs going to get himself killed, do something!â Nick shook his head.

âHeâs a damn fool.â He muttered, grabbing his sniper rifle as he got out. He saw Tom sprinting towards the helicopter wreck, dodging every shambler in his path. âWhat can I do? Thereâs too many of themâ¦â He pulled out the pack of cigarettes and his Zippo and lit one up, taking a long drag before exhaling. âWe should go before we get ourselves killed.â Katharina took a step towards Tom, then back to Nick, shaking her head in disbelief.

âWe canât just leave him here! Heâll die!â Small tears were streaming down her face, her eyeliner beginning to smear.

âHe made his choice-â Nick cringed as the girl slapped him across the face.

âHe saved your ass back in the city, now help him!â She cried. Nick rubbed his face, for a woman she hit pretty damn hard. âYouâre one of New Yorkâs best, now do your damn job and help him!â She screamed. The sniper blinked a few times as he took another hit of the cig and looked back for Private. He spotted him helping up a badly injured soldier, his back towards a zombie that was rapidly closing the distance between them. âPleaseâ¦â She pleaded.

âAwe hell.â He propped his rifle up on the hood of the car and looked into the scope, his cigarette hanging lose in lips, the cherry burning brightly in the night. He quickly chambered a round in the rifle and aimed at the zombie, a former soldier, that was about to grab him. âSteady nowâ¦â Nick fired, his aim was true. The round smacked the shambler in the back of the head, blood splattered against the helicopterâs burning heap as its skull parted and it crumpled to the ground. In the blink of an eye he yanked the bolt back, the cartridge clanging on the hood as another shell was chambered in. Through his scope he saw Tom placing the soldier down against an ambulance as he lifted his own rifle and began letting loose a hell of gunfire into a large mob feasting on his fellow soldiers. Nick Fired again, blasting away a zombie coming in on the soldierâs side and ending the creatureâs life instantly.

âCome on Tom, come back alreadyâ¦â He heard Katharina say to herself as he chambered yet another round in his weapon. He saw the soldier propped against the ambulance with a pistol in his hand, firing away at two zombies coming around back the vehicle. His aim was off, the soldier couldnât even stand up. One hand was around a large wound in his stomach that was still bleeding freely all over him. The other hand held his sidearm, and he letting his own fear hinder his accuracy.

âI gotcha, buddy.â Nick aided the soldier and dispatched both of the shamblers in an instant. The wounded soldier was looking around for his savior as Nick dug hiss hand into his hip pouch and pulled out more rounds for his rifle.

âHurry, more of them are coming!â The girl yelled as he frantically reloaded his rifle. He cursed as one of the shells slipped from his hands and was lost in the grass. He left it there as he sighted Tom grappling with a creature, another one inbound.

âShit!â Nick quickly dispatched the zombie closing in, but found he couldnât get a shot on the one Tom was wrestling with. âDamn it Tom, keep him steady!â He yelled, his words lost to the moans of the undead. The shambler had Tom pinned down, the only thing keeping him from the deadly bite of the creature was his arm under the neck of the thing. Nick fired, but his aim was off. The bullet struck the carrier in its shoulder. It moaned, distracted for a second as the hot lead ripped away at its flesh; which was all the time the Private needed. Tom pulled out his M9 Beretta and stuck it underneath the chin of the zombie and pulled the trigger several times, the top of its head exploded in a shower of gore.

âKathy, get on the police intercom and tell him to get his ass back here! He doesnât have much time!â He chambered another round and picked off a zombie feasting on a soldierâs corpse. Katharina ran over to the driverâs seat and hopped into the car, picking up the radio.

âHow do I work this thing?â She frantically asked. Nick gritted his teeth as he picked off another carrier closing in on Tom and the wounded soldier before dropping the rifle on the hood of the car and snatching the radio out of her hand.

âTOM, YOU NEED TO FALL BACK. THEREâS TOO MANY OF THEM. I REPEAT, FALL BACK.â His voice boomed over the squad carâs megaphone; Tom looked up as he was slapping a fresh magazine into his assault rifle. For a split second Nick thought the soldier would come back, but when the cries of the dying and wounded reached Tomâs ears he turned back and began engaging the undead again. âDamn him!â Nick tossed the radio back in the car and slammed the door shut as he grabbed his sniper rifle again.

âNick, over there!â Katharina cried out, he spun just in time to see a lone shambler creeping up from behind the car. In one swift motion he pulled his .40 handgun out of his holster and shot it right between the eyes without hesitation, then holstered the handgun again.

âGood eye, Kathy.â He peered back in the scope and began picking off zombies closing in on Tom again, taking out the closest ones methodically until he was empty again. As he pulled out more rounds, he saw Tom yell something to the wounded soldier before making his way towards a small squadron of men that were doing their best at keeping the numerous shamblers away from a small, frightened crowd of civilians. They seemed to have a strategy down, two gunmen were firing like madmen until they ran empty, while they reloaded two others open fired. It seemed to be working, but Nick knew that they wouldnât last long. All the gunfire was drawing in more zombies, a lot of them former soldiers and people rescued earlier that day. As he chambered the shells into his rifle he noted where the wounded soldier was, and once he saw that there was no immediate threat to him he focused his aim back on Tom, who was yelled something in a radio set up on a small table before lifting his rifle and joining in the battle.

âNick, to your right!â Nick pulled out his .40 once more and took out a trio of undead that were stumbling out of the trees his way.

âHere, take this.â He handed the large handgun to Katharina before concentrating back on the soldiers. âShoot them in the head.â She nodded shakily as she held the gun close to her, doing her best to maintain composure. âDamn!â He could see one of the soldiers in the firing squad screaming as one of the civilians he was trying to protect turned on him and ripped a large chunk out of his arm. Nick sighted the newly turned shambler and took it out, considering whether or not he should take out the soldier as well. He thought against it, he was not going to murder the man, not while he was still human anyways. As the soldier collapsed, grimacing as he tried to contain the blood flow with his hand, Nick heard something. He looked up just as a military helicopter flew overhead, the turrets dousing a large group of undead. Limbs flew in the air and blood sprayed the military tents as the chopper circled the group of survivors overhead.

âThank god!â Katharina said. Tom waved his arms frantically as the chopper blasted away another crowd of the undead, clearing for a path to land. Nick jumped as he heard three gunshots beside him, he cocked his head and saw a shambler convulsing on the grass, its face blasted apart. Katharina held his smoking gun and nodded at him. He returned it and took another hit on the cig before tossing it aside as the chopper landed.

âHe better not leave us here.â He muttered as he took out another carrier with a clean headshot. Tom was waving the soldiers and civilians into the chopper, helping the bitten soldier on board as well. When he was the last one standing outside, he held up a hand and ran back to the wounded soldier still leaning against the ambulance. Nick followed Tom through his scope and watched as Tom through the soldierâs arm over his shoulder and helped him up. As he was getting the soldier, he noticed the helicopter beginning to take off.

âKatharina⦠get in the car.â

âWha-â

âGet in the car, now!â She didnât question him, she jumped in shotgun as he got behind the wheel and started the engine. It roared to life and he floored it towards Tom. Tom and the wounded soldier were back to back firing now, the crowd of undead closing in on him. Nick slammed into a few of the zombies as he slammed on the breaks; one went under the tires and another two bounced over the hood, leaving a bloody smear. Nick grabbed the Spas-12 shotgun and hopped out of the car.

âGet in!â He blasted two zombies back in a single shot as Tom loaded the soldier in the back seat. He pumped the shotgun and blasted a few more, the ravenous group closing in.

âShit!â He used the gun as a club and cracked it against the jaw of a shambler before blasting a basketball sized hole in its abdomen. Tom open fired with his rifle as Nick hopped in the car along with Tom. As he grabbed the wheel a pair of rotten hands shot through the open window and grabbed him.

âGah!â He slammed on the gas, but the zombie held on. The car slammed through a tent as he yanked the .40 out of Katharinaâs hands and emptied the magazine into the carrier until it let go. âHold on!â He swerved the car hard to the left, sideswiping another zombie before regaining control of the vehicle. For a few moments, the only sounds audible in the police cruiser besides the moans of the undead was his own heavy breathing.

Once he cleared through the main congestion of zombies, he turned back to take a look at the wounded soldier.

âJesusâ¦â He now got a good look at what his wound was. A large piece of metal had lodged itself in his stomach, probably from the helicopter crash. Blood was soaking out of the wound, the soldier was pale as a ghost. He looked up at Nick and a weak smile formed across his face.

âThanksâ¦â He passed out unconscious.





******************************************





Sergeant Tyrell Keyes cursed as he let the phone fall out of his hands, breaking on the floor. His family was as good as dead. He looked up with sheer hatred in his eyes as hundreds of shamblers began pouring into the lobby. His men open fired.

âYou mother fuckers!â He growled, raising his rifle and letting loose his rage. He ran over to his man on the M60.

âGet to the roof!â He hissed.

âBut sir-â

âGet to the fucking roof, thatâs an order!â The soldier dropped the weapon and ran, terrified. Tyrell got behind the M60 and held down the trigger. The tremendous boom of the gun filled the lobby as it kicked like a wild bull in his hands. Rows of shamblers were mowed down in an instant, the marble supports were chipped away in seconds as he began screaming in hate at the monstrosities stumbling towards him. A officers from the firing line began to flee.

âRun, you fucking pussies!â He yelled as he sprayed down another group of shamblers. The tiles and freshly waxed floor was covered in gore and body parts now. Blood flowed all around. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw officer Garcia trampled down to the floor. He continued spraying the carriers as Garcia cried out in pair as a woman accidentally stepped on his head, he heal breaking off in his neck. Blood scorched out of the wound as he grabbed her ankle and pulled her down with him just as a crowd of shamblers piled down on them. Their screams were lost over the roar of the M60.

The gun was smoking now, almost turning slightly red from the constant hail of gunfire. He didnât care, the Sergeant held down the trigger and was intent on sending ever last one of them back to hell.

âYeah, you like that?â He yelled as the gunfire completely ripped a shambler in half. After another few seconds of firing, the gun clicked empty. Tyrell Keyes left it as he hefted up his rifle and began firing indiscriminately, not even bothering to take aim. There was too damn many of them.

âS-sir? What are my orders?â Private Sven ran over to him, dripping in a feverish sweat.

âGet everyone and tell them to evacuate, now!â

âYes sir!â Tyrell Keyes backed up, still firing his rifle. He reloaded expertly and loaded his last magazine in, backing towards the stairwell. Something grabbed his ankle. Tyrell hit the ground with a thud, his head cracking on the tile. Before he could regain his composure, officer Garcia sunk his teeth into his leg. An excruciating pain shot up his leg, he could feel the virus instantly flowing through his body.

âFuck!â He lifted the rifle a blasted Garcia away before shakily standing up. He cursed again as he emptied his last few rounds into the mob before tossing the rifle aside and pulling out his sidearm. He cried out again as he felt teeth sink into his neck. Any normal person would have given in, but Tyrell was a brute. He used his free hand to grab the ghoulâs head and flip him over his shoulders onto the ground in front of him, then blasted the carrier in its face.

âAh shitâ¦â His vision began to blur. He stumbled backwards, hefting the gun up with one hand and using the other to hold his neck wound. But he couldn't focus on anything anymore. Everything started slowing down.

âSir!â The voice sounded far away. Private Sven grabbed him and half jogged him over to the stair well. On the way he lazily glanced over towards the elevators, and saw the fifty or so civilians and cops being overrun, the zombies crowding into the elevators; the people inside trapped. The doors wouldnât close because of the sensors. âSir!â The Private sounded very far away now. Tyrell Keyes blinked slowly and saw Sven close the stairwellâs door. Sergeant Tyrell Keyes took a deep breath and let out a long sigh. An overwhelming sense of agony gripped his body as he fell to the floor. Sven called out to him again, but the words were lost. His vision blurred and the world around him slowly turned to darkness.


******************


Private Jesse Sven shook with fear.

âSergeant Keyes?â Keyes was slumped against the wall at the bottom of the stairwell, the M9 barely held in his loose fingers. âSergeant Keyes!â His voice cracked as the gunfire in the lobby stopped and the moans of the undead soon drowned out the cries of the dying. The stairwell door shook in its frame as they began pounding against it in an uncontrollable rage. The scared Private quickly reached over and grabbed the dead Sergeantâs M9, stuffing i

Chapter 9


Tom grabbed a pre-made sub from the coolers and ripped it open, devouring it. Damn, it felt good to finally eat. As he finished the sub he grabbed another, not even bothering to read what kind he grabbed and not caring. He looked over as he took another bite and saw Katharina grabbing a flavored water from one of the fridges, gulping it down. Nick and Mike each had a shopping basket, and were tossing in various bags of chips, drinks, and candy. Nick had a large carton of cigarettes in his.

Tom quickly finished the second sub and tossed the plastic wrap aside, and began walking down one of the aisles.

âHere we go.â He said to himself, grabbing a couple of the small med kits that was typically used to be stored in a car. They didnât have much inside them, but it would be enough to patch up Mike. âYou all almost ready?â He called out as he grabbed a bottle of painkillers.

âYeah, weâre just about done.â Nick called out as he walked over with a loaded basket. Tom put his items inside.

âTom, something doesnât seem right about these guys⦠I think we should get going as soon as possible. I donât really feel comfortable giving up our weapons. Hell, this isnât even their gas station.â Tom nodded.

âYeah, either do I. But my grandfather is a serious gun nut, once we make it to his place weâll be safe. For a while, anyways.â

âI hope youâre rightâ¦â Nick said as he walked out of the gas station, followed by Mike. Tom walked over to Katharina; she had another drink in one hand and a box of tampons in the other.

âClose to my timeâ¦â She said, blushing. Tom laughed.

âHa, itâs all good. Everything alright with you?â She nodded.

âYes⦠well, do you think this will all blow over soon? I mean everything does, right?â He didnât know what to say. He wished it would, but after fighting for his life out of the city and witnessing an entire platoon overrun, he doubted it.

âI sure hope so. I heard the other day troops were being pulled from countries all over⦠letâs just hope itâs enough to contain this.â She simply smiled and looked down. âAnd hey, I got your back.â She hugged him.

âYou better.â

âWell, letâs go meet up with the others, I donât want to stay here too long.â She pulled away from him, opening up her drink and taking a sip.

âAfter you.â Tom walked out of the station, holding the door open for her as they walked over to where Gus and the others were waiting. There was a small table set up were Nick and Mike had placed their baskets. Gus gave a nod as he reached them.

âAlright, letâs head out back and you can pick out a new ride.â

âLook, I donât think weâll be needing one, Gus.â Nick said with a tone of annoyance.

âNonsense, Iâm surprised you made it this far with that hunk of junk.â Nick shrugged.

âCome on.â The group followed Gus to behind the gas station where four vehicles were parked. âTake yer pick.â The first vehicle that caught Tomâs eyes was an old black mustang in pristine condition. Ever since he was a kid he had wanted one. As much as he wanted to choose it, he figured it could be deadly if the car got surrounded by shamblers.

Next to the mustang was a jeep wrangler, a smear of blood was on the hood. Beside that there was a blue minivan and a large green titan V8.

âThatâs our ride.â He said, pointing at the truck. One of his buddies had one, and it was great for off-road terrain. It was a four-seater and had a large bed which would be great for storing their supplies.

âGreat, Dan, fill âer up.â Gus said to one of his men. âSo, you said you had two service rifles and a shotgun?â Damn it.

âYeahâ¦â Tom said, not liking where it was going.

âHow about you fork âem over and we call it even?â Gus grinned.

âNo way! How the fuck are we supposed to defend ourselves? Tom, this is bullshit!â Nick burst out.

âYeah dog, Iâm not liking this either.â Mike chipped in. Tom looked over at Katharina, she shook her head.

âHow about one rifle and the shotgun.â

âTom, no!â Nick yelled.

âThrow in one of your handguns and you got yourself a deal.â Gus held out his hand. Tom nervously looked back at his group, Nick was still shaking his head.

âDeal.â He shook hands with Gus.

âYouâre a damn fool, Tom.â Nick mumbled.

âCool it Nick, weâll restock in Pennsylvania.â Nick stayed silent as they walked back to the front of the store. Once the trading was complete and their new truck was loaded up, they all prepared to hit the road. As Tom was getting in the back, Gus called out to him.

âHey, Tom!â He ran up to him. âBest of luck, soldier.â He slapped him on the shoulder.

âYou too- oh, and I donât know where you and your group is heading next, but stay away from New York.â Tom turned around and hopped into the backseat of the truck with Katharina. As Nick started the engine, Tom watched Gus wave as they drove off into the rising sun, not knowing what horrors lay ahead.


**************************


Nick floored it down Route 222, the Titanâs engine roaring as he accelerated to 70 mph. He was definitely liking the new set of wheels, being as the squad car heâd found back in the city was running on fumes after barreling into countless undead and walls. He felt a lot safer inside the 4-door truck, and was somewhat glad the trade happened. Yet, the group was left with just his sniper rifle and Tomâs handgun⦠Nick swore to God if the soldier didnât keep his word on the stockpile of supplies in Lancaster he would personally beat the shit out of him. He knew that the shotgun theyâd given up could be the crucial key to life or death if they got surrounded.

Nick maneuvered the truck around a burning bus overturned on its side, trying not to looks at a small group of zombies feasting on the remains of children.

âFuckers.â He mumbled to himself as he glanced over to a photo of his wife he taped to the rearview mirror. A small smile cracked on his lips, the first smile he had in the last couple days. The photo was taken on their first date years ago. Carrieâs hair was longer then; she wore a beautiful pink dress that night. One of Nickâs friendâs wife had hooked him up with a friend on a blind date. Neither him nor his wifeâs friend were looking for anything serious, both coming out of bad relationships. They both just wanted to have some fun. It was that night that he was introduced to Carrie. They had hit up a bar that night, and really hit it off. The talked for hours and shared a few drinks before heading back to his place and making love. They married six months later.

âYouâll always be in my heart, babe.â He said to himself.

âSay what?â Mike yawned as he rubbed his eyes and looked over. âWhose dat chick?â He said, pointing at the picture. Nick gritted his teeth.

âThatâs⦠my wife.â He finally said, choosing his words carefully, not wanting to upset himself again. Mike seemed to get the hint.

âSheâs very pretty, man.â Nick nodded.

âYeah, she is, isnât she?â He looked back in the rearview mirror and saw Tom and Katharina fast asleep, tightly nestled together despite the fact that the truck was huge and space wasnât an issue. He chuckled, least there was still hope for mankind.

âIn point five miles, keep right.â The dull tone of the GPS said to him. Nick followed the GPSâ instructions and turned took the next exit.

âHey can you grab the carton of cigs?â He asked Mike. The soldier turned back and grabbed the shopping basket and pulled up the carton of cigarettes.

âHello whatâs this?â Mike said as he found a folded map underneath the box. He pulled it up and unfolded it. âWhat the hell?â Nick looked over. It was a map of the United States. Circled in a red marker was Mississippi. There was a short note underneath the marking.

Heard Tunica was safe.
-Gus

âHmm, keep that in the glove box.â Nick said. Maybe that trucker wasnât so bad after all, that information could come in handy. As Mike put it away and handed Nick a cig he took one for himself and they both lit one up. âSo whatâs your story?â Mike took a hit before speaking.

âMe? Ah⦠not much. Iâm from a small town in Alabama. Mom abandoned family as a kid, Dad was a drunk. Always wanted to do something better with my life, was a Sherriffâs deputy for a few years before I found my calling in the military.â Nick nodded, listening as he blew out smoke and drowned out the dull tone of the GPS. âWas in Iraq for a few years, thatâs when I met my boy Tom. We were both pulled out a few weeks ago when the first news of the outbreak came to.â

âFew weeks ago? Thought all this shit began happening a few days ago?â Nick asked.

âNah man, thatâs just when the media got the scoop. The first outbreaks happened in Mexico and Africa, thatâs why our forces were pulled out. Our government knew the shit would reach the States soon enough.â

âDamn.â

âYeah, did a real good job sealing the borders, didnât they?â Mike laughed as he took in another puff of smoke.

âLost satellite reception.â The GPS informed them as it showed a blank screen.

âAh, hell.â He muttered, slapping the GPS. âHey, lovebirds wake up!â He yelled.

âWazza, huh?â Tom yawned. Katharina moaned as she nestled even closer to Tom.

âNot yetâ¦â She softly said, still asleep.

âYou know the way from here? The GPS crapped out.â Nick called back.

âUgh⦠yeah. Keep on this road until you hit the Wachovia bank, then turn left and stay on that road until you hit a sportâs bar.â Nick nodded his head and followed the directions, the group stayed rather silent until Nick neared the sportâs bar. Like most of the ride, Lancaster seemed pretty devoid of life.

âAlright, now turn right and stay on this road until you reach Wetherburn. Thatâs my Grampâs neighborhoodâ¦â Tom trailed off, looking around at the destruction that had hit his hometown. Nick sort of felt bad for the kid, already knowing the probable fate of his grandfather. As Nick pulled into the neighborhood, Tom spoke up again.

âOk, take the first right then the first left⦠itâs the house on the right with the white pillars.â Nick slowed the truck down as he neared the house. It was unlike most places heâd seen so far. It reminded him of Times Square. Bodies littered the street, the density of them growing as he pulled to a stop outside of the house. All of the bodies had multiple gunshot wounds, maybe there was still hope. He turned back to Tom.

âTom⦠Iâm not sure youâll like what you find in there. How about I go inside and check it out first? Make sure everythingâs alright?â He asked. Tom wasnât having any of it.

âI need to see for myself, Nick.â Tom pulled out his handgun and hopped out of the Titan, running towards the house.




************************



Tom stopped outside the front door, holding the gun up. Hundreds of shell casings littered the porch and driveway, which gave him a little hope. He took a deep breath before placing his hand on the handle, it was unlocked. He stepped into the house, sweeping the area with the Beretta. It was empty.

âGrandpa?â He called out lightly, the dining room was empty. He looked over and saw the living room was empty as well. He walked down the long hallway, the usually brightly lit area now seemed dark and dead. âHello?â He called out as he entered the kitchen. There was a Winchester lever-action rifle on the kitchen island, but nobody in sight. He heard a slight noise from down another hallway, muffled. Tom quietly stepped forward, handgun aimed forward. He passed by a den and bathroom before stopping outside of the hunting room. He took a deep breath before grasping the handle and shoving the door open. The first thing he saw was a man bent over a table looking at a photo album, an MP5 was strapped to his back.

âGah!â The man said, spinning around and aiming a 1911 colt at him.

âDad?â His dad lowered the handgun, he didnât look good. He was still dressed in his work clothes; an expensive business suit, a camo flak jacket covered his ripped white shirt. Two magazines were sticking out of the flak jacket. One of his pant legs were ripped, his black sock could be seen along with a long red scratch. His usually slicked back hair was disheveled and messy; scratches lined his face. Tom had never seen his dad with any scruff, always a clean shave. Yet, it was evident he hadnât shaved in days.

âMy god, Tom!â His dad ran forward and hugged him tight, almost sobbing. âI didnât think you made itâ¦â

âDad! Whereâs mom? Whereâs Grandpa?â His father pulled away, eyes bloodshot and watery. He simply shook his head.

âThey⦠didnât make it.â He simply said. âI⦠buried them out back.â Tom lowered his head, taking a deep breath. He honestly didnât know if anyone of his family would make it, and was just glad his dad did. He heard the others entering the house.

âIâm not traveling alone.â He told his dad, noticing his grip tightening on his colt. âAnother soldier and a cop from the city, along with, well, someone I rescued.â His father smiled.

âSome company would be nice-â His dad keeled over suddenly, coughing violently before he spat blood on his jacketâs sleeve. Tomâs eyes widened as he finally noticed a bloody bandage on his other arm.

âOh no⦠dad please noâ¦â

âYour grandfather bit me when he turned⦠Tom I donât have much time. I was about to end it before you came, I donât want to hurt anybodyâ¦â Tom shook his head in denial.

âNo, dad youâll be fine.â His father shook his head.

âDonât feed yourself bullshit son, you know just as well as I do whatâs going to happen.â Tears began forming in the soldierâs eyes. âAnd donât you go crying on me, no son of mine is a pussy.â His dad laughed lightly, trying to lighten the mood. âLook, Tom⦠I donât think I can do this by myself⦠I need your help-â

âOut of the question.â He interrupted, there was no way in hell he was going to gun down his own father for Christâs sake.

âTom, you have to!â

âNo-â

âPlease!â His dad, a powerful banker and wall street enthusiast, never looked so pathetic in his life. Tom had never seen him like this, begging and pleading for something.

âAlright dad⦠Iâll do it.â His father weakly smiled and patted him on the shoulder.

âThanks, Tommy.â Tom wiped a few tears from his eyes, trying to stay strong. âBefore we do this, thereâs a few things we need to go overâ¦â Tom nodded, listening intently. Behind them, the others in his group stepped it.

âThis yo pops?â Mike asked. Tom introduced everyone to each other. Once everyone found out about to wound, the suddenly joyous mood turned solemn. His dad coughed up blood again, he wiped his mouth with his sleeve.

âFollow meâ¦â He said weakly, walking by the group. Tom's eyes locked with Katharina's for a brief moment before he quickly followed, not wanting to lose him. His dad led him down a flight of stairs into the basement. The plush couches, fully stocked bar, and a home theater would have excited Tom a few days earlier, but not today. The group was led to a back room with a keypad lock.

âCombination is 2-5-8-1.â His dad punched in the numbers, there was a small beep as the door unlocked and they all entered.

âHoly shitâ¦â Nick gasped as his dad flicked the lights on. Rifles lined the walls, gun racks were stocked with handguns and revolvers. Three safes were completely open, revealing weapons dating back to World War II. His dad walked over to a large cabinet and pulled open one of the drawers, revealing even more firepower. Off to the back of the room was cases upon cases of ammo, each stacked according to caliber. His grandfather was a serious nut when it came to guns.

âThis is enough to clear out a fuckinâ city!â Mike exclaimed in disbelief.

âOh my⦠Wow!â Katharina said.

âKeys to the vehicles in the garage.â His dad pulled out three pair and set them down on a wooden table in the middle of the room. âOh, and one other thing-â He keeled over, hacking up blood. He stumbled over to a sink in the corner of the room and vomited.

âDad!â Tom ran to his side.

âTom- careful!â Nick yelled, discretely grabbing one of the handguns from the drawer and holding it behind his back.

âIâm not gone⦠not yetâ¦â His dad whimpered.. He stumbled over to a second wooden table and grabbed a suitcase.

âFew days agoâ¦. Emptied out accounts and⦠and⦠401K. I donât know how far this willâ¦. Get you, but it should help⦠use it while itâs still worth something.â His dad flipped open the suitcase, revealing stacks of hundreds.

âDayum!â Mike gasped.

âLook, we need to end this soonâ¦â His dad said. Tom slowly nodded.

âLook, guys, weâre going to go outside for a little⦠give us some privacy.â The group didnât object. As Tom led his father away, he grabbed a bottle of Jack Danielâs from the bar and a pack of Nickâs cigarettes. As they reached the top floor his dad grabbed a box off the counter and led them out to the deck. They both took sat down on the deckâs chairs looked out at the glimmering pool water. He cracked open the bottle of whiskey after they both lit up a cig and took a large swig before passing it over to his father, who poured the alcohol in a cup, not wanting to infect his son with a death sentence.

âTom, I know itâs a few months early⦠but Iâm glad Iâll be able to give this to you.â He slowly handed the box over to Tom. Tom shakily accepted it; it was heavy. âHappy birthday Tommyâ¦â His dad began coughing again. Tom opened the box as his dad downed the cup before pouring another.

âOh wow⦠dadâ¦.â Inside was the first gun he ever fired with his dad and the first gun his dad ever purchased. It was a Taurus handgun, modified. The barrel was platinum and was with engraved designs all over it. On one side of the barrel it read âTomâs BAMFâ, on the other it read âLove, dadâ. The wooden handle was replaced with gold. Two magazines were beside it.

âWow, thank you⦠this, wow dad I love it.â He smiled, he dad was chuckling.

âI remember when you were just a boy and I took you to the rangeâ¦â His dad paused for a second, trying desperately to keep with it. âYou couldnât hit the broad side of a damn barn.â Tom laughed, remembering the good old days. His dad passed over the bottle and he chugged down a few more swigs.

âIâve gotten better.â He laughed, taking a puff a smoke.

âYouâll never beat your old manâ¦â He coughed up more blood. âTommyâ¦â Tomâs eyes welled with tears as his dad called him his old nickname as a kid. âWe need to do this, nowâ¦â

âJust a few more minu-â

âTom⦠Iâm losing it⦠I-I canât hold it together much longerâ¦â His dad let out a growl as blood began dripping from his mouth. Tom cried as he set his gift down and raised his handgun. His father stood up and stumbled away, off the deck and onto the lawn. He spun around, his skin graying.

âTom, I l-love you⦠and Iâm so proud of youâ¦â His dad keeled over, grabbing his stomach. âArgh!â

âI love you tooâ¦â He cried harder then he ever had in his entire life, the gun wavering in his hands.

âNowâ¦â

âI canât-â

âDo it!â

âBut-â

âGaaahrrr!â His father's face contorted with pain as his eyes went bloodshot, a primal growl emitting from his throat. Tom's eyes went wide as his dad lashed out and sprinted towards him.




**************************




Nick sat on a couch in the basement, slowly rubbing the scruff on his face. He cocked his head as he heard Tom scream in pain followed by a single gunshot. The others looked at him in horror as he got up and ran upstairs, hoping he wasnât too late.



Well, tell me what you think.

Chapter 10


Nick took the stairs two at a time, shoving the halfway open door out of his way as he ran for the deck, only slowing down to grab the lever-action Winchester off the kitchen island. He grabbed the handle of the sliding door, praying that Tom hadnât let his emotions get the better of him. As it smoothly slid open and he jumped out onto the deck, rifle grasped tightly in his hands.

He saw Tom hunched over the body of his father, the soldierâs back to him.

âTom? You ok buddy?â He kept his tone soft. Tom sniffed and turned around, eyes bloodshot and gun trembling in his hands. His father had a single gunshot in his forehead. He saw Tom wasnât bit.

âIâm fine.â Tom finally said, looking back at his deceased father. Nick felt bad for the kid, but at least he got to say his final goodbyes. He would give anything to have said goodbye to Carrie. The death she suffered was the worst kind he could think of. Nick couldnât even fathom being eaten aliveâ¦

âLook, I need to bury my dad Nick⦠you and the others should just relax and get some rest. Iâm sure the fridge is filled, if not the pantry is always stocked.â Nick solemnly nodded, knowing there wasnât anything else he could say to comfort his friend. He patted Tom on the shoulder.

âIf you need anything or want to talk, just give me a yell.â Tom gave a weak smile as he stood up and grabbed a shovel sticking out of two newly dug graves.

âYeah⦠Thanks.â Nick turned away and went back in the house, hoping to finally grab something to eat.




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Katharina stepped out of the shower and wrapped a towel around herself. She hadnât felt better then she did now in days, the shower really revived her. She tied the towel and wrung out her long brown hair and shaking it, she really felt rejuvenated. Katharina stepped out of the bathroom and exited the bathroom, peeking her head out first to make sure nobody was in the hallway. She heard the guys downstairs chatting, still eating. Good, she thought.

Creeping out of the safe confines of the bathroom she quickly made her way to the closest room and went in, closing the door behind her and locking it. Turning back to the room, she noticed she was in a guest room. It was a simple layout, just a large bed in one side of the room along with a dresser and end table. There was a picture on the table. She walked over and picked it up. She smiled, it was Tom, he was very young in the photo. He was wearing a wrestling singlet and had his arms pumped in the air with a big grin on his face and a medal around his neck. His father was standing beside him, slapping him on the back and pumping a fist in the air as well. Her smile faded when she saw his dad.

Placing the photo down she walked over to a window and peered out. Tom had filled his fatherâs grave and was standing over it with his head down, an almost empty bottle of whiskey in one of his hands. She felt really bad for him, and was somewhat glad she was never really close with her family, always being a sort of rebel in her teen years.

Katharina went to move away from the window, but her leg bumped against the bedâs end table.

âOw!â Tom suddenly looked up, their eyes locking. She quickly moved away from the window and cursed, her leg hurt. She went back to the window and peered out as she rubbed her leg, Tom was sitting on the steps to the deck, taking a swig of the alcohol and looking out at the graves of his family. Katharina sighed and slipped her underwear on, deciding she would go out and try talking to him.

As she picked up her bra and snapped it on, she realized just how badly she needed a change of clothes.

âDonât suppose any of these will fit.â She said to herself as she slid open one of the closet doors. There was an array of T-shirts and button downs, along with a few pairs of sneakers and a military uniform. Unless someone else in Tomâs family joined the army, she figured the clothes were his. âHope he doesnât mind.â She grabbed a white button down and tried it on. It was a little big, but it would do. She rolled the sleeves up and tied the bottom of the shirt of to her belly, not liking how far down it went. Not seeing any pants or shorts that would fit her, she grabbed her skirt and slipped into it, hoping they would raid a clothing store soon. She couldnât stand wearing dirty clothes. Katharina ran a hand through her long her and shook it, trying to dry it quicker.

âScrew it.â Looking in the mirror and feeling satisfied for the time being, she hung her towel on the doorknob and trotted down the stairs. She saw Nick and Mike chatting in the kitchen. They abruptly stopped as she walked by.

âHey, ugh I donât think you should go out there.â Nick said. Mike nodded.

âGive him time girl, that shit probably messed him up real good.â

âIâm just checking up on him, Iâm worried.â She said, walking past the duo.

âDonât say I didnât warn ya.â Nick told her as she grabbed the door handle and went outside. She closed it behind her and looked over at Tom, he had tossed the whiskey bottle into the yard, its contents still slowly spilling out. A lit cigarette dangled from his fingers as he gazed out into the yard. He didnât turn around as she slowly walked over to him.

âHey.â She bent over and wrapped her arms around him, resting her head on his.

âHey Kath.â Tom lightly said as he took a hit from his cig. âHope you donât mind.â He exhaled.

âI donât.â His shirt was damp. She pulled away and took a seat next to him, looking out at the three graves. He had placed a large stone over each grave. Tom wrapped an arm around her, she snuggled close as he took another hit before flicking the cigarette. Birds chirped as morning turned into day. They annoying buzz of bugs arose. Sunlight flickered on the poolâs surface. Yet, no lawnmowers were started on the perfect summer day. The laughter of children couldnât be heard. This was a dead neighborhood, and probably would be for a long time.

âWhatâs the point?â Tom finally said. She looked up at him.

âWhat do you mean?â He shook his head and rubbed his facial scruff.

âWhatâs the point of even trying anymore? We will only be prolonging the inevitable.â This took Katharina by surprise. The very person that had saved her from the horrors of New York was questioning his own survival.

âYou need to have hope. If you let this⦠epidemic get to you, it will mean those things won, and you lost.â Tom turned his head and looked her in the eyes.

âIâve lost everything thatâs ever meant anything to me these last couple days. My friends, my family, my life. What else do I have to live for Kath?â

âYou have me.â She slowly leaned forward, placing her hand on his cheek. It was rough with stubble, but it didn't bother her. Their lips met.




*****************************




âOk, just look down the sights, hereâ¦â It was late afternoon now, the group had decided to clear out the neighborhood before they spent the night. Nick and Mike had decided they wanted to try out some of their new arsenal, which Tom was ok with. He was teaching Katharina how to shoot. He had his Taurus handgun his father had given him strapped to his side. Heâd given Katharina a small .32 handgun.

âI usually squint one eye, helps me concentrate more.â The gun wavered in Katharinaâs hands, he stood behind her and had his hands on the gun as well to steady it. âAim for the head.â Two shamblers slowly stumbled towards them, about fifteen feet away.

âOkâ¦â She said. Not too far away, Tom heard the crack of an M1 Garand. Nick had really taken a liking to that gun.

âNow fire.â The small gun jumped as the round smacked into the shamblerâs neck, tearing it. A moan emitted from its throat as its neck ripped and the head hung slightly to the side.

âOk, that was good. Aim a little higher this time.â She nodded as she took aim and fired a second later. The zombieâs head jerked back as the round punched into its head.

âNice! Take out the other one now.â Katharina sighed as she aimed the handgun again, the other one now about ten feet away. âHurry.â She aimed the gun and fired again, scoring another headshot. The shambler crumpled to the street. Katharina smiled.




******************************




âNo way man, no fucking way!â Mike excitedly yelled as he dug through the contents of a bag a shambler dropped. âToday is my lucky day!â He held up a large bag of weed. âCan you believe this?â Nickâs eyes lit up.

âMike⦠Iâm still a police officer, you know.â Mike snorted.

âScrew you man, end of the world. I havenât smoked since my teen years. You wanna arrest me then fine, but not before I smoke some of this shit up.â Nick shook his head.

âNah Iâm not gonna arrest ya. Iâll just mess with you when youâre high off your ass.â Nick clutched the M1, heâd always wanted to fire one all his life, being a huge WWII buff. Who would have thought heâd get his chance during a viral outbreak? Mike laughed.

âItâll only make it better.â




**********************************




It was night now, the group had settled in Tomâs basement and were each taking turns off the largest blunt Nick had ever seen, Mike really was a pro. Everyone but Nick. Nick sat off in a corner and smoked a cigarette. He had never done drugs in his life, and he sure as hell wasnât going to start now.

âYou⦠you! Nawâ¦â Mike burst out laughing as he fell over, passing the blunt over to Katharina. She took a hit and immediately coughed it out, smoke filling the room.

âDamn Kathâ¦â Tom said with a mellow tone as he took a hit himself. He looked over at Katharina as he passed the blunt over Mike, who was still laughing his ass off at nothing. Nick exhaled smoke as he caught the girl winking at Tom, then getting up and slowly walking up the stairs.

âHey, where ya goin?â Mike called after her as he blew smoke out of his mouth, completely oblivious to the world. âGuess itâs just us, man.â He held the blunt out to Tom, who ignored it completely as he jolted up and ran up the stairs. âGod damn lightweights.â He kicked back. âHow about you mister?â He held the blunt out to Nick.

âNah, Iâm good. Iâm going out to get some fresh air.â He got up and walked up the stairs, leaving Mike alone in the basement. Tom and Katharina were nowhere to be found. He walked over to the sliding doors and out onto the deck. He took in a deep breath of air and let it out, he was a little dizzy. Probably from secondhand smoke.

Off in the distance he heard the wail of a siren. Moments later a string of gunshots. After that it was silent again, the only sounds were crickets and the occasional wail of the undead. Nick thought of the map again that the trucker Gus had left for them. Could Tunica really be safe? And even if there was a large group of survivors holding out there, he wouldnât be too quick to trust them. People change drastically during a crisis, being on the New York City swat team heâd known this first hand.

He remembered a few years back during a bank holdup, when a small firefight broke out one of the bankers pushed children and women aside to get out first. Coincidently, he died in the crossfire. He figured heâd bring the subject up the next day. Nobody would remember tonight anyways.

A gunshot from inside the house made Nick jump.

âWhat the-â Mike cried out as another gunshot rang out. Nickâs eyes widened in horror as he turned around and ran into the house, already pulling his handgun out of the holster.

âMike!â He ran down the stairs. Mike held a smoking revolver in his hands.

âThe shadows manâ¦â Nick growled as he stormed over and grabbed the gun and slammed it on a table.

âAre you fucking retarded?â Mike laughed, answering his question. He looked up, two holes in the ceiling. âYou better not have hit anyone.â He jogged up the stairs.

âTom? Kathy?â He looked around as he walked over to the stairwell which led upstairs. He heard Kathy moan in pain. âGod damn it, Mike!â He quickly ascended the stairs, turning into the bedroom.

âOh- Gah!â He tripped backwards as Katharina moaned again, riding on top of Tom. They took no notice to him. He looked away and went back down the stairs, laughing quietly. It wasnât until he got to the bottom that he noticed that the front door was left wide open. Nick stopped, puzzled. He looked out into the darkness, seeing nothing but corpses and their vehicle. His hand tightened on the handgun still clutched in his hands as he walked over to the basement door.

âHey Mike, get up here!â He called down softly. Mike didnât waste time as he stumbled over to the stairs, the revolver tucked in his pants and his shirt wrapped around his head. The blunt hung loosely on his lips.

âYeah, what?â

âYou leave the door open?â Mike shook his head as smoke drifted out of the dying blunt.

âI havenât left-â

âHands up!â Nick spun and ducked down on a knee, handgun aimed at the intruder. It was only a kid, couldnât be out of high school. Yet, a magnum was aimed at them. Mike cried out and tossed his gun to the ground, the weed still messing with his head.

âDrop your weapon, now!â The kid shook with fear, but didnât stand down.

âNow!â Nick barked. The cool barrel of a revolver was suddenly placed against his temple.

âDrop yours bitch.â Another kid said.

âGod damn it...â The gun slid from his fingers.



No reviews? Dang. Mainly just posting this chapter to bump this.

It's very detailed and thrilling. I really love this story. To be honest, it's 100x better than mine But that just my first

Tomorrow I finally have a day to myself, and I'm going to start taking a look at some of everyone's work posted here. Since you reviewed mine, I'm going to check yours out first. ^.^

I appreciate the review.

Chapter 11

âDonât stop!â Katharina moaned. Tom was in heaven, he couldnât even remember the last time heâd been with a woman. The sound of a gunshot floated to his ears as he lazily fondled Katharinaâs breasts. Was that a gunshot? Or did something fall? He was too messed up to comprehend anything, and wished he didnât smoke the weed. Deciding to shrug it off he slapped her ass, she groaned in approval. Somebody said something from the doorway, Tom didnât bother looking.

âOh Godâ¦â He closed his eyes as his head began to spin, high off his ass. Every sense in his body seemed to be fully aware, he felt so alive it was starting to scare him. He heard shouting. Lots of it. âHey Kath, hold upâ¦â He slowly said, his hands clenching the camp bed sheets.

âNo, baby, no!â She moaned even louder, riding faster.

âShhh!â He was starting to snap out of it. His worldly spin was slowly calming down. Voices downstairs started to become audible, and he didnât recognize them. As much as it pained him to do so, he gently unmounted Katharina off himself and crept over to his pants and slid them on, along with his holster. He didnât bother with a shirt. The unknown voices drifted up to the bedroom once again, this time Katharina heard it.

âTom?â She whispered now, questioningly.

âStay up here, do you still have your gun?â He asked, she nodded as she hopped out of the bed and dug through her clothes until she found the small .32 heâd given her earlier that day. âHide in the bathroom, Iâll come get you when I find out what the hell is going on.â She ran up and hugged him tightly before planting a kiss on his lips.

âBe carefulâ¦â He turned away and slowly crept down the stairs, trying to make as little noise as possible. It wasnât hard, he and his dad had helped his grandfather replace the wooden stairs a couple years ago. Tom stopped at the bottom on the stairs, his Taurus clenched tight in his hands. Sweat dripped down his back and face as he risked a glance around the corner. An unknown assailant had his back towards him and a gun aimed at Nick and Mike.

âWhat the hell are they doing in my house?â He thought himself as he crept forward, keeping the Taurus trained on the manâs back. He stopped suddenly as he heard someone else speak, the voice coming from the kitchen. Damn, how many were there? He saw Nick looking over at him for a split-second before averting his eyes elsewhere, not wanting to draw any attention towards him. He didnât waste any more time.

Tom rushed forward and slammed the butt of the Taurus down on the back of the manâs skull. He heard a dull crack as he collapsed to his knees and Tom wrapped an arm around his neck and pulled him back to his feet, keeping the barrel of the Taurus pressed firmly into his temple.

âWhat the-â Nick sprang forward towards the other attacker, whose gun discharged as he screamed in shock as Nick punched him in the face. The attacker whipped his gun across Nickâs and delivered a swift kick to his chest, aiming his handgun down at Nick.

âDrop your fucking gun!â Tom shouted as he pushed the gun deeper into the manâs head. âOr your friend gets it!â Tom took in the guys features, and realized that he was actually just a kid, probably still in high school.

âYou drop yours!â The kid yelled back at him. The kid in his grip struggled.

âJake, drop it man!â He yelled.

âShut up!â Tom whipped him in the back of the head again, this time drawing blood. âYou have three seconds before bullets start flying. Youâll get one shot off on me, boy. You better hope it fucking kills me.â Tom narrowed his eyes as the kidâs widened. âOne.â The kid adjusted his aim towards Tom. âTwo.â Tom shoved the kid in his grasp towards his friend. âThree.â

âWait!â The kid, Jake, tossed his gun to the ground, holding his hands up in defeat. âI surrender, d-donât shoot man!â

âNick, grab the weapons.â Tom said, keeping his gun trained on the two kids.

âYeah, Iâm alright! Thanks for asking.â Nick said sarcastically as he grabbed the two handguns and set them on a counter away from the kids.

âWhat the hell are you two doing here? Give me one reason why I shouldnât down you like those maggot sacks outside.â Tom growled. If those delinquents had really harmed any of them, he wouldnât have given them time to explain.

âLook dude, Iâm sorry- weâre sorry.â Jake explained. âYou donât understand what me and my friend have been through the last couple of days though-â

âLike hell we donât, bitch.â Mike piped up as he picked up his own gun. Tom ignored him.

âPlease just listen!â Jakeâs friend said.

âYeah, weâre listeninâ.â Nick said.

âMe and my friend Freddy didnât think anybody would be home when we got here. When we saw you guys were⦠I donât know-â Jake started, but was interrupted by his friend.

âWe panicked.â Freddy finished. âPeople have⦠changed. People have been mugging anybody theyâve come across, even killing over little things. We figured you all would do the same to us⦠if we would have knownâ¦â

âSave your sob story for somebody else. Get the fuck out of my house.â Tom said coldly.

âPlease!â Jake pleaded. âYou donât understand whatâs out there!â

âOh, but I do. We all do. Now Iâm not going to ask again, get out of my house!â Tom yelled. Before the kids could object, a bloodcurdling howl outside made everyone freeze.

âShit dude, theyâre back!â Freddy whimpered. Another howl was heard, along with a crashing sound in the distance followed by the sound of a car alarm.

âWhat is that?â Nick asked, looking around before snatching up the lever-action rifle.

âI told you! The zombies arenât the only things out there!â Jake cried as he made a grab for one of the handguns on the counter.

âWhoa, not so fast.â Tom stepped in front of him, blocking his way.

âDude Iâll fucking leave! I donât want to be here when those things find you!â Jake screamed. More howls could be heard now. What the hell was out there?

âYou two try anything funny and youâre both dead, got it?â Tom said. They both nodded, grabbing their guns quickly.

âAlright, you two, Nick outside with me now. Mike, grab some bigger firepower from the basement⦠we might need it.â

âWeâre going to fight these things?â Freddy asked, fear in his voice.

âDamn right we are.â Tom growled as he jogged over to the stairs. âKathy!â She appeared at the top, face pale and worried.

âTom?â She asked, not sure what was going on. âWho are they?â

âIâll explain later, get to the basement and lock yourself in the gun room.â

âBut-â

âJust go!â She ran down the stairs, barely clothed in her lingerie. Tom turned towards the front door. âReady?â Nick nodded.

âNow or never, man.â Tom opened the door and stepped out into the night, sweeping his Taurus across the front yard. Nothing.

âFan out.â He whispered. He headed towards the driveway with Freddy, while Nick and Jake took the lawn towards the street. Tom strafed slowly along each vehicle, making sure nothing nasty was waiting for them. His nose wrinkled as the stench of rotting flesh enveloped the street. It smelled bad out earlier, but now it was... different.

Another cry erupted from down the street. Everybody looked over and saw a large group of people sprinting towards them, screaming in rage. He squinted his eyes in the darkness to see what was coming their way, when a primal growl behind him made the hairs on his neck raise.

âWhat the fuck-â Freddy screamed suddenly. Tom spun around as something jumped from the roof and onto Freddyâs back.

âNo!â Freddy cried as he fired his gun wilding behind him. The creature howled as Freddyâs head slammed against the bumper of the Titan. The thing thrashed about wildly as it tore into the flesh on the back of Freddyâs neck, coming up with a large chunk. Light from the house dimly illuminated the creature. It looked somewhat like a shambler, except its eyes werenât pale and murky. They were bloodshot. While a shambler had a pale white tone to it, this thing looked almost red, or crimson. Large claws had grown on the end of each finger, which it used to take off Freddyâs head in one quick jerking motion.

âJesusâ¦â Tom raised his Taurus and let loose hell. The blasts from the powerful handgun lit up the driveway. The creature sprang up, diving towards Tom. Tom jumped out of the way, letting it slam into one of the garage doors, leaving a bloody dent. Tom emptied the rest of his magazine into it, blossoms of red exploding out of its chest with each gunshot, only stopping when one of his rounds blasted a hole in its skull.

He spun around, seeing Nick curse as he jacked the lever on his rifle and fired again. The round punched into the closest⦠Howlerâs shoulder, causing it spin around mid-sprint before continuing its advance.

âThatâs what Iâll call ya⦠a howler.â Tom took quickly ejected his magazine and loaded another in, two left.

âGet âem in the head, Nick!â Tom yelled out of the gunfire. Jake was firing blindly into the small crowd that rushed towards them, only momentarily slowing them down. Tom jogged over to Nick, firing off a few shots and downing a howler in the process.

âWhen the hell did these things start running?â Nick yelled as he jacked the lever again and shot one in the head. It collapsed mid-sprint, tripping two others behind it. Before they could get back up, Tom and Nick took them out.

âDamn it!â Tom cursed as he ejected his magazine and loaded in his last one. The howlers kept coming, weaving in and out between houses, crashing over fences.

âThis day just keeps gettingâ better yo!â Tom glanced behind him and saw Mike walking out of the house, an MP5 in his hands. There was another MP5 strapped to his back, along with a duffel bag full of magazines. âHeads up!â Tom snatched the MP5 out of the air as Mike tossed it to him. He dropped the bag of ammo down by Nick, who was crouched down on one knee, picking off the howlers methodically now.

Tom chambered a round in the machine gun and open fired. The flashes from the automatic lit up the street as Mike began firing as well. The howlers closest to the gunfire fell first as the 9mm rounds peppered their bodies.

âCome on, you bastards!â Mike cried out as he stepped forward and whipped his gun across a howlerâs face, dropping it to the ground and caving its head in with a hard stomp.

âEmpty!â Tom shouted, ejecting the large magazine.

âMore in the bag, dumbass!â Mike hollered back. Tom dove for the back, hands shaking as he reloaded the gun. He turned back and joined the battle again.

âDamn!â Jake cried, throwing his empty handgun to the ground and running back towards the house, not stopping until he was inside, the door slammed shut behind him. Tom looked back towards the street, there were far less howlers now, but they were starting to spread out, surrounded the small group.

âShit- fall back!â Tom yelled as he stood up, blasting two howlers to hell. The screams of the incoming howlers chilled him to the bone. âIâll cover!â Nick got up first and ran back to the house, turning around with his rifle to provide more covering fire. Mike and Tom backed up, both their MP5s blasting simultaneously. Mike bailed out and ran towards the house as Tom fired off a final blast before fleeing. Mike made it into the house, Nick waited outside with his rifle, ushering Tom on.

âLetâs go!â Tom made it to the lawn when one of the downed howlers grabbed his leg.

âShit!â He kicked as hard as he could, trying to break free and avoid the death sentence of a bite or scratch. Nickâs rifle went off and the howlerâs head popped, Tom scrambled to his feet. Four howlers has made their way to the driveway, blocking his access to the house.

âGet in Nick, Iâll go around!â He yelled, Nick yelled something that Tom didnât hear as he ran to the side of the house. Another bloodcurdling scream behind him made him run faster. When he hit the deck he spun around and let loose the rest of his mag, downing two of the four howlers behind him. He tossed the empty gun aside as he jogged backwards, pulling out his Taurus and firing.

Panic set in as he downed one, and the slide on the gun slid back on empty. The remaining howler screamed in fury as it halved the distance between them. Tom shoved the gun in its holster as he grabbed the shovel still sticking out of his fatherâs grave just as the howler reached him. He fell backwards, putting the shovel up like a bar between him and the monster. Itâs face bled from ever pore as it screamed in fury. Tom cried out for help as it raised a clawed hand and thrust it down into the grass, temporarily making it stuck. Hands gripped tight on the shovel, he bashed the wooden part against its head, getting it off him.

âSon of a bitch!â He swung the shovel hard, cracking the howler in the jaw causing it to fall back down. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the bottle of alcohol he and his father had shared earlier, half of its contents still inside the bottle. Tom ran over and scooped it up, tossing it at the howler as it struggled to get back up. The alcohol doused the creature as he reached into his pocket and pulled out a lighter, grinning as it stood up and sprinted towards him and he flicked open an orange flame.

âYippie kai yay, mother fucker.â He tossed the lighter and jumped back as the howler burst into flames, howling as its skin bubbled and popped.



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