Previously, on Dead Limit:
“He’s infected! This damn
murderer is infected!” Mason yelled.
Taking aim, Richie said sadly; “Humanity forgives you,”
and fired.
“Listen, I know where some other
camps are around here,” the old man told them.
Mary looked back at the police
car, waiting for Angela to join the conversation. To her shock and dismay she
saw the cruiser turn around, spraying dirt, and speed down the street, fleeing
along with all the other survivors.
“Wait!” Miguel screamed, “Hey!”
the young man sprinted after the car for several yards but soon quit, knowing
there was no way to keep up. “Why? You can’t just leave me here!” he cried.
They heard muffled blasts coming from
the mountain, and looked up at it. Clouds of dirt erupted everywhere above the
concrete entrance.
"Shit!" Tyrone screamed as he tried to kick the
creature away. Rudolph aimed his gun, but Tyrone lost balance and fell in the
way of the first bullet, which pierced his shoulder. He screamed as he was
pulled out of the rising helicopter, hitting the pavement head-first with a
sickening splat. The Seeker that fell with him, along with several
others close by, began tearing the teenager's back into fleshy shreds.
They covered their faces as a
bright flash all but blinded them. A sound like amplified thunder hit their
ears, a deafening blast that drowned out the other noise. They could only watch
in horror as a mushroom cloud rose up from the no longer existing area that was
downtown Denver.
=====
“Think we can climb around?”
Tyler asked his brother, studying the rocks on the cliff trail ahead. An
avalanche must have recently occurred, for there was a massive boulder he
judged to be over ten feet tall blocking the path. The dirt trail was very
narrow, only five feet wide with a very steep slope to either side. ATVs and
dirt bikes could use the path, but Tyler and Roger Torrens preferred climbing
on foot.
“Looks like there’s about a foot
at the edge”, Roger answered. He was used to tough obstacles during hiking, and
this provided no challenge for him. Going first, Roger carefully held himself
close to the boulder. Step by step he went around the rock with Tyler following
closely behind. It was bigger than he expected, over twenty feet wide, but he
made it to the other side in less than two minutes. Once his brother joined him
they continued up the trail, chatting about their plans for camp.
· · · — — — · · ·
“I can’t believe they nuked it,”
Paul muttered for what seemed like the fortieth time in the past hour. He was
referring to, of course, the military’s sudden use of a thermonuclear weapon on
the city of Denver Colorado.
”Probably killed thousands of
mockers though” Mason remarked.
“When we heard the plan we left”
said the AWOL soldier Rudolph accompanied by the pilot of the helicopter and
their four passengers Paul, Richie, Roger, and Mason. Everyone on board had
felt slightly nauseated the past hour, and it had nothing to do with the Seeker
virus. Although they were well out of reach of the primary blast wave, all six
men on the copter had likely received a non-lethal dose of radiation. The pilot
made sure to stay upwind of the toxic air, and they got out of the danger zone
before the fallout began. It was lucky that they made it out of city limits
during the first minutes of the blast, because an EMP wave from the warhead
temporarily knocked out the helicopter’s electronic systems. Not only that, but
everyone was almost completely blind for several minutes. The only shape that
they could make out through their blurred vision was the ominous mushroom cloud
hovering on the horizon.
Both Richie and Mason both agreed
that it was for the best, because more soldiers would have died if they had
kept fighting. Denver had been overrun. Roger and the pilot, Rick Dawson, both
remained neutral in opinion. They did not join because they understood the
reasons, the cost of lives taken and the cost of lives saved. Rudolph himself
was a nice and talkative guy, and had openly admitted that he had been bit. He
reassured them that when the time came he would dispose of himself. He had both
a pistol and a grenade ready for when the moment came. To his relief and total
surprise Roger gave him a syringe filled with Patcorn’s new “cure”. Before they
could explain the risks to him he had already injected himself with the
syringe. He told them that he would rather die by the side effects of the
syringe than to die and be reanimated as “one of those flesh eaters.”
Rudolph had been telling them
stories about people jumping off of buildings just to keep from being eaten
alive. How the Mockers had slowly learned how to open the doors of a vehicle
and even to break into tanks. The creepiest thing of all was that those that
died with guns in their hands reanimated knowing how to shoot it.
“They
couldn’t aim or anything, but when you hear gunshots ring and you think that
your prayers for help have been fulfilled only to find that it’s death laughing
in your face, it’s terrifying.”
“Yeah,
we had a little run-in with those kind a couple days ago,” Mason told him.
“Frightening,
right?” said Rudolph.
“Creepy,”
Roger replied. “I don’t remember seeing that in the movies…”
Richie
cackled, clapping Roger on the shoulder. “Man, this isn’t a movie! This is real
shit, so get used to it.”
“Ever
seen Day of the Dead?” Paul inquired.
Richie nodded. “The zombies could shoot in that one,” he noted.
“But
this virus isn’t like what you see in the movies,” Roger explained. “In fact,
it’s hardly a ‘virus’ at all. Dr. Patcorn said—“
“Nobody
cares what the madman said,” Mason growled. “He tried to kill us, multiple
times. He didn’t even warn—“
“James
saved my life!” Richie angrily reminded him.
“Yeah,
well we had to risk our asses to get you into the place, you little—“
“Mason!”
Roger intervened.
After another half-hour of flying
and arguing they had finally reached Colorado Springs. It looked almost like
Denver except on a smaller scale: burning buildings, wrecked vehicles filling
the streets, the occasional unmoving tank, trash bags strewn all over, and not
surprisingly, more Mockers. They weren’t moving in huge hordes like in Denver,
here they were more spread out. The pilot kept the helicopter at two hundred
feet high enough for them to be well out of danger but low enough for them to
survey their surroundings and formulate a plan based on their observations.
“We’re looking for any fortified
places flying a white flag,” Rick reminded them. As they had approached the
city ten minutes ago, he had explained the ‘flag code’ for ‘safe-zones’ within
Colorado. Any survivors remaining in the state were to head for one of these
areas if they wanted to live. A place flying a white flag with a red S was
unsafe but had supplies available, a yellow S was for a short-term shelter, a
place to hide for a few hours but not meant for staying in. A green S marked a
survivor camp that was fortified enough to protect its inhabitants. One of
these places was likely to have many survivors (unless it was overrun) and be
closer to the outskirts if in the city at all. It was one of these safe zones
they were desperately searching for.
After another fifteen minutes of
flying, they found a flag with a green S stuck on a telephone pole near a
church in Cimarron Hills. A ten-foot high fence had been built around it; to
the north was a neighborhood, to the south an apartment complex and a large
field was east of it. However, using binoculars, Rudolph could see a sign out
front that read “Flag is a lie. Area is not safe”.
“There’s smoke around back!”
Roger observed. He pointed at a thin gray column rising behind the building. He
pointed it out to Rick, who maneuvered the helicopter around the church for a
better view. As they came around they saw a few tents set up, a couples tables,
and a running grill. Smoke was steadily streaming out, carrying along with it
the delicious scent of—
“Does anyone else smell hotdogs?”
Mason wondered aloud.
“I sure do,” Richie answered.
“I think there are people down there,” Rudolph gasped.
“Hey, Rick; why don’t you take us down? Let us explore for a minute?”
“Why not?” the pilot decided. The
chopper descended loudly towards the street, kicking up a dust devil in the
process. With a slight jolt they touched down. Roger and Rudolph immediately
hit the ground running, holding their machine guns ready. They sprinted to the
gate, knowing it was a matter of minutes before Seekers started arriving in
droves.
From what they’d seen from above,
the fence had three layers: wood, vinyl, and chain. Wrapped along the top and
base was a lot of barbed wire. There was no gate. Instead, hanging in a break
in the barbed wire was a rolled up rope ladder. Rudolph untied the wire knot
holding it together while the rest of the group caught up.
“Didn’t have the decency to
provide a proper escape route?” Mason complained when he saw the ladder.
“You can hop the fence without
it,” Paul remarked. True; the barrier that was supposed to keep those inside
alive was only seven feet; any agile person could easily climb over. And so could some zombies, Paul thought
with a shudder.
One by one they dropped over the
other side, and spread out defensively. First thing they did was head around
back, to the welcoming smell of cooking food.
“Hell yeah,” Richie commented
when he lifted the grill lid.
“Eight juicy weenies,” Mason joked.
Plates were laid out on one of
the wooden tables; Roger walked over to grab a few, but hesitated.
“Where are all the people?” he
asked, “Someone has to be here—this food is still fresh.”
“You’re right,” Mason said,
taking a giant bite from one of the dogs he plucked directly off the grill.
“Somebody cooked these at just the right time for us.”
“Not another bite!” a voice
suddenly sounded, coming from the tents. Out stepped and old man, stooped and
tan with a short brown beard, holding a shotgun.
“Whoa, now…” Roger began, trying
to keep calm. “We’re looking for other survivors, not trouble.”
“Survivors? Ha!” the hermit
cackled, stepping closer, his gun still raised. “Won’t find any here,” he
explained. “And nobody’s gonna find you either!”
BAM! The gunshot surprised everyone,
making them jump. It took them a moment to realize it was not the hermit’s
shotgun; the old man swayed for a moment, looking down at the clean hole in the
center of his chest, before his legs gave out and he fell to the dirt. They stared
in shock at the body, and then heard Rick’s voice:
“Good for nothing scum.” They
turned around and saw him holding a pistol firmly, aimed at the hermit’s dead
body.
“I’m still hungry,” Richie
reminded them. Roger handed out plates, watching Rick nervously. There were
enough hotdogs for all of them to have their own; the last two were each split
in three. They ate them bun-less, since the bag on the table was growing mold.
Once finished the started searching through the tents.
“Good lord,” Rudolph muttered.
“That guy was a sick, twisted son
of a bitch,” Mason observed. In every tent, seven total, there were bodies.
Mutilated, torn apart, surrounded in pools of blood; the gore piles were
completely unrecognizable.
“There were children, too,”
Richie told the others. “I saw…a head…just resting on a pillow…Her eyes were
closed, and a blanket pulled up to the neck…she could’ve been sleeping, but I
pulled away the blanket and—“
“I think we should leave, Roger
decided.
Suddenly they heard a growling
noise behind them, and in surprise and fear they watched the hermit’s corpse
struggle to its feet. It took a step forward and:
BAM! The hermit’s head became a
bloody doughnut, a three-inch hole was blown right through the center of its
face. Mason lowered the shotgun and watched the rest of the skull cave in while
the body hit the ground a second time. Roger looked at the corpse in awe.
“He was infected?” he asked.
“Must’ve been.” Mason answered.
“Ok, I think we really ought to
leave,” Paul announced.
“Yeah, in a minute,” Richie
replied. “we still have the church to investigate.”
Paul shook his head, pointing
towards the front. “That will have to wait.”
“Ah, shit,” Mason cursed. Maybe
twenty, or more, Seekers were trudging around the building towards them.
“Again?” Mary asked. Pierall was
once again sitting in a lawn chair by the pond, a fishing pole in his hand. The
old man smiled.
“It’s relaxing,” the old man
defended. Pierall was in his early sixties, a slender, rather tall guy with
curly white hair and long snowy beard; yet he was still pretty fit for his age,
having always exercised to stay healthy. Unlike some of the others at the camp,
like fat Carter, a complete slob who weighed well over three hundred pounds even
though he was in his thirties and 5’ 5”.
“Shouldn’t somebody go out
hunting or something?” Mary began. She would have simply asked some of the guys
to go, but Pierall was looked upon as their surrogate leader. In her mind, the
secretive master hiding behind that giant guard of his uphill from the camp
really had no control.
“We have plenty of food right
now, Mary,” Pierall explained. “Look around. This is a farm, for Pete’s sake.”
Mary sighed. True, there was plenty of space to grow crops, and tiny valley had
a beautiful view. The pond, situated beside a ranch and wedged in the foothills
of the Rocky Mountains, was peaceful. Birds chirped high in the evergreens, and
a calm breeze blew past.
“Ok, what about survivors? I bet
loads of folks are still going to NORAD. Or passing us by, like that group this
morning—“
“Mary, Nobody else is out there.”
“Please. Just check. The path to
NORAD is mostly outside the city, it shouldn’t be too dangerous.”
“Alright, say I do go? Who’s
coming with me? And don’t even think about volunteering!” he said seeing the
look on her face.
“Come on,” she groaned. “Fine.
Take Carlos. I’m sure he wouldn’t mind a vacation.
“Get in!” Rick yelled over the
rotors. Thankfully the Seekers only came from one side of the church, allowing
the group to sprint around the other side and to the ladder. They noticed the
building’s French doors were hanging barely on broken hinges. Not even
bothering to use the ladder they pulled themselves over the fence. Richie had
to give Paul a boost, but they made it out of the place safely and ran to the
helicopter. There were, of course, Seekers roaming in the street. The pilot
didn’t bother killing any, wanting only to get back in the air. They all did,
and in seconds the chopper was rising back into the sky, what seemed to be the
only safe haven left. Glumly they flew on, towards the southwest.
“Why can’t we just fly east to
Kansas or something?” Paul asked after a few speechless minutes, “There is no
infection outside Colorado is there?”
“Not yet I think. Not last night,
anyway. It’s spreading fast, though.” The pilot replied, while Rudolph and
Mason continued to stare out with their binoculars.
“Why are we looking for people
here? Why can’t we just fly as far away as possible?”
“Because the military isn’t
allowing anyone else to cross the state border, that’s why” Rick snapped.
“They’ll shoot us down on sight. No chance that infection can escape, they
said. Right. That’s why they ended up nuking Denver. Stupid politics.”
“They wouldn’t!” Paul exclaimed.
“They wanted to evacuate!”
“Sure, five days ago. Not
anymore, though.” The pilot muttered, then said to Rudolph and Mason: “See any
flags yet?”
“Two red ones, four yellows.
Nothing else!” Rudolph answered.
“Flag is a lie, area not safe,”
Mason muttered. “Should’ve heeded the sign.”
“Those were good hotdogs though,”
Richie reminded him.
After flying over the municipal
airport, and seeing the wreckage of several military vehicles including a
crashed F-16, Rick made an announcement:
“I’m taking us towards Cheyenne
Mountain; I heard there’s a good-sized camp there.”
“I thought they sealed NORAD,”
Richie remarked. “Why would anyone head there? It’s pointless, nobody’s getting
in. I heard it’s worse than Patcorn’s lock-down.”
“Well, people went there, that’s
for sure. Who wouldn’t try?” Rudolph said.
“And what if that area’s overrun
as well?” Mason retorted.
“The military probably left some
form of instructions there,” Paul mentioned, “like a map marking nearby camps
or something.”
“Yeah, right. Don’t get your
hopes up, kid.” Mason snorted.
As the helicopter neared the
mountain, they all sat impatiently in their seats, not knowing what to expect.
They soon found out what they
wanted, and didn’t want; to know. Scanning ahead with his binoculars Rudolph
could make out the parking lot next to the entrance to the North American
Aerospace Defense Command (NORAD). A twenty-foot fence made of logs, chain-link
and barbed wire encompassed an acre. Within it was a cluster of twenty or so
lean-tos, multiple fire pits; some still smoking, and over thirty cars and
trucks that looked to be in good condition. And the biggest shock was:
“Where’s the entrance?” Rudolph
exclaimed. “It’s gone! I can’t see it anywhere, but it’s supposed to be right there.” He pointed to a large dirt
hill.
“Looks like they buried it,” Rick
observed.
“NO!” the other three soldiers
cried.
“That’s what they meant by
sealing,” Richie decided.
“There still might be people
here,” Roger told them. “There is a
camp down there.”
There was not, however, any sign
of life. Even as they got closer Rudolph couldn’t see anybody in the
encampment. Nobody was running out to the open, nobody waving their hands
signaling for help. Just silence, until-
A car horn rang out from almost
directly below, making everyone onboard the helicopter jump and causing Rudolph
to almost drop his binoculars. He, Richie and Paul looked out their side while
the others looked out the left, trying to find the source. Rick began turning
the chopper and descending for a better view. The honking came again,
persistent blasts of sound desperately calling for attention.
“What are they trying to do,
attract all the undead of Colorado Springs?” Mason yelled, spotting the
vehicle. It was a green jeep, with two passengers. It was speeding down the
winding road that led to the camp, but heading east, away from the shelter. The
jeep slowed to a halt and the passengers got out.
“Hold on, I’m going to try
landing.” Rick announced.
“Do we have enough room?” Mason
asked, “Because it looks like they have nowhere to go. They probably want a
ride.”
“I’ll see what we can do.” Rick
answered.
A minute later they touched down
forty feet up the road from the jeep. Rick, Roger, and Richie Jumped out and
walked over to the jeep, while Mason, Rudolph, and Paul waited in the
helicopter (Roger had actually ordered Mason to stay put- saying he was ‘too
aggressive’).
The jeep driver, an older man in sixties from
the look of him, met them halfway between the vehicles.
“Looking for a camp? ‘Cause NORAD
is not the way to go.” He told them.
“We assumed so, but we thought
there’d at least be people outside and in the area.”
“Not since Tuesday. They left in
a hurry, most of the folks still alive in the city did. Headed for the border.
Then NORAD was buried, and anybody remaining her with even a shred of hope
ended up leaving as well.”
“Two days ago…Did they know the
state is closed?” Rick asked, concerned. “All citizens attempting to leave
Colorado are to be shot on sight. No tolerance for infection.”
“Sure they did,” the man
shrugged, “we all know that. But some seemed to think it was worth the risk to
try.”
“Not safe to hang around long,”
the other man informed them. “If you need a safe place to stay just follow us,
if you want.” He was a tall, buff African-American, bruised a little but
otherwise unharmed. He looked warily down the road, at the highway. They could
see scattered Seekers wandering down the road.
“There’s an occupied safe-zone
near here?” Roger questioned. “We haven’t seen any.”
“It’s not in the city, its south
of here some miles,” the older man said.
“How many survivors?” Richie
asked, hoping for a high number.
“Forty to sixty or so,” the
second man replied. Richie’s excited look vanished.
“Do you have room for six more?”
Rick asked.
“There were a few hundred staying
there just days ago, of course we have room. There’s a whole ranch, an RV park,
and it’s all next to the mountains.” The older man explained.
“What were you doing up at
NORAD?” Richie suddenly questioned, confused.
“Looking
for stragglers who thought the place was safe. Where’d you come from, by the
way, and what are your names?”
Richie did the introductions:
Roger, Himself, Rick; and pointed out Rudolph, Mason, and Paul, who were now
walking around the helicopter, stretching their legs as well as keeping watch
over the area. The old man introduced himself as Pierall, and his friend as
Carlos. Roger saw Pierall raise an eyebrow when he heard his last name.
“We just flew down from Denver,
looking for the rumored safe-zones here.” Roger quickly described their visit
with Patcorn and their lucky escape from the Stem Genetics Lab.
“The madman finally kicked it
then,” Pierall muttered under his breath.
“Hey, that man saved my life!”
Richie exclaimed, raising his left fist. “He helped us. We killed him, only
because he was infected.”
“Sorry, I meant no offense to
you!” Pierall apologized, holding his hands to shield himself. Richie took a
minute to calm down while Roger resumed the conversation;
“The military was bombing all
morning, until about two hours ago…”
Pierall smirked. “The place got too far
overrun, and the military gave up, right?”
“Not exactly…” Roger said, and
then continued, “I guess they decided to let the place go-so they nuked it.”
“What!?” Carlos exclaimed.
Pierall was too shocked to speak.
“Who the hell is stupid enough to
drop an atom bomb on one of their own cities? Is the military out of their
mind?” Carlos went on. He banged his fist on the hood of the jeep, then opened
the left door and slid into the passenger seat.
“We have to tell the others,” he
told Pierall,”We have to warn them, if there’s a chance they’ll destroy this
place too. Camp’s too close to avoid a nuclear blast, or radiation. The fallout
would have us dead in hours!”
“Calm down,” Rick said in an assuring
tone, ”They aren’t going to nuke Colorado Springs-not enough of a threat.”
“Not enough of a threat?” Pierall
inquired.
“There were three and a half
million Mockers in the Denver area. The napalm bombing plus the nuclear
explosion likely wiped out over half of that. The Colorado Springs estimated Seeker
count only reaches a sixth of that, if even.” Rick explained.
“Carlos is right though,” Pierall said after a
minute of thinking and comprehending. “We should be getting back now. Your
vehicle can make a few more miles, I hope?” he said pointing at the helicopter.
“Indeed.” Rick nodded.
“Then just follow our lead.”
Carlos yelled as he started up the jeep’s rumbling engine.
“What’s the deal?” Mason inquired
as Richie, Rick, and Roger walked back to the helicopter.
“We’re following them, there’s a
camp south of here!” Richie announced. Paul jumped into the helicopter and
quickly strapped himself into the seat furthest right, impatient and excited.
The others quickly got in as well, and Rick retook the controls.
Following the jeep was easy; as
soon as the helicopter took off the jeep sped down the rest of the road and got
onto the freeway. From there it wound its way around the scattered wrecks until
it reached open road, where it went to top speed, racing down the highway. The
helicopter, of course, kept up easily, and Rick could not help but show off,
bringing the flying vehicle down to ten feet above the road, directly behind
the jeep; its engine roaring loudly enough they could hear it over the
helicopter’s swift rotors.
It took less than ten minutes to
reach the camp; as Pierall had described it was an RV park next to a small
ranch wedged between two foot hills on the west side of the highway. On the
east side was an open expanse of wild fields. There were lots of short trees,
providing some cover to the camp, which was comprised of seventeen RVs, a
cluster of maybe thirty tents, six fire pits, and a make-shift grave yard in a
small clearing. As the helicopter came in for a landing on the highway asphalt
next to the entry road dozens of people, worried and excited, came out of the
camp to greet them.
Introductions were short: Pierall
told his group the names of all the new comers, then the both groups of
survivors mingled and headed up into the camp. They were safe, for now.
Then Roger noticed someone in the
crowd, recognized immediately the woman’s face. He stopped walking, and stared,
in awe and disbelief, wondering what evil force had twisted his luck this far.
For there stood, alive and well, not five yards away, his ex-wife. Mary.
. -. -..
On the Next Episode:
“You’re
kidding! A gang of teenagers can do whatever they want? You’re joking.” Rick
had said in disbelief. “I guess I can live with these rules, but the
prejudice…jeez.”
“Haven’t seen Mary act like this
before,” Carlos sighed. “She was my neighbor before…before this place went to
hell.”
“Just go away. This was not the
impression I wanted to give the first time I saw you again.”
“You think I thought I’d see you
again in some run-down survivor’s camp, hiding from zombies?” Roger said to
her, kneeling next to the tent.
Out of the shadows Roger could
see them, limping or stumbling, moaning and growling. They practically flowed
out of the forest, without warning. He got up, wondering what he could possibly
do without a weapon. And then people started screaming.