Episode 303 Third Strike

Previously, on Dead Limit:

"We'll clear out the neighborhood, start a settlement. Eventually build a wall. Start farming."


"I was working on a sort of formula…A cure, hopefully."


  "I'm done with my old life," Brady replied, firing. Morgan stared in shock, first at Brady and then the bloody hole in his chest.


There was a loud cracking noise, the glass breaking; Daniel cried out in surprised, and Alex rolled lifelessly of the hood of the convertible leaving a trail of blood.


  Daniel groaned, glancing around his surroundings. He heard the shuffling of feet, wheezing voices and snarls of the Seekers closing on him. Above him, in the branches of the trees, crouched more Mockers. One gave an unearthly bellow, and the others roared in return. Daniel shook in fear at the sight of such monsters. The eerie sound of their triumph echoed through the woods.


  "What's up with you three?" Pierall asked, going down the stairs from the porch to the driveway. Roger took a gulp of air. "Mockers. In the pines."


   "We're being hunted..." Brady wheezed. Pierall stared at them, appalled. Then, from in the house, they heard screaming.

---...---

Ash blew across the blackened ground. Wind whistled through the crumbling, bare bones of countless skeletons. The last drops of liquid blood dried into a carmine stain. A lone wolf scout, wary of the open, empty street and fearful of human presence, cautiously slinked out of the thick shrubbery. He couldn't detect any sound of a threat, and only smelled food. The city was no longer home to man. Joyfully the wolf howled, signalling the pack. It was finally time to reclaim their home.

Gary burst into the hallway at the same time the front doors flew open. He saw Lissette backing away from the spiral staircase in terror as Carlos, now a Seeker, lumbered down after her.

"Everybody stay back!" he ordered. "I'll handle this." Carlos noticed him and snarled.

"Stab with this!" Mason advised, handing Gary an electric knife. Carlos growled and charged angrily, his heavy footsteps shaking the floor. Mason and Pierall ducked aside, but Roger stood his ground next to Gary, taking the knife from him and flinging it with insane precision directly into Carlos's open mouth. He spat green liquid and continued forward at Gary, who slammed his palm against the Seeker's jaw. Carlos was sent flying backwards, slamming into the carpet with a heavy thump. The entire floor shook. Gary walked over and retrieved the knife, and reconnected the battery. The blade flared with electricity.

"Take it outside first!" Pierall warned. He started over towards the body when something lunged at him from the stairs. "Angela!" He heard Mary shout from the bar. The Asian woman pushed him to the floor, jaw bloody and snapping.

Roger fired his shotgun but only hit her torso; angrily she got up, ready to attack him instead. Pierall sat up and saw a third Seeker stumble down the stairs. "Matt too?!" He cursed. Roger fired again, this time Angela's left arm was blown off. In the surrounding rooms everyone was in a panic. The noise was disorienting the Seekers, who could seem to decide between their current targets or the others throughout the house.

Pierall shot at Matt, who tripped and tumbled down the remaining steps. He came to a halt with his head inches from where Pierall sat.

"I'm to old for this shit," He uttered, kicking at Matt's head and shooting a bullet into his ear. He was about to stand when Angela's head exploded into a slimy grey paste above him, a product of Roger's last shot. He covered his face as he was splattered with the sick stuff. Meanwhile Seeker-Carlos was regaining strength, swinging his arms at Gary, who was unsure how to safely kill it. 

"Just stab him already!" Mason hollered, kicking Angela's body aside and stepping over Matt's to get to Carlos. He yanked the knife from Gary's hand and struck Carlos in the heart. The room went silent. Sparks shot across Carlos's eyes, turning them into black charred spheres. His teeth rattled, his body quivered. The flames appeared suddenly from nowhere, covering his entire body in seconds.

"Get some water now!" Gary cried out when the carpet started catching the fire. In the kitchen Mary grabbed a pot and ran it under the sink, while several people joined the guys in stamping out the flames. Martin kneeled next to Matt's body, staring sadly at his friend's lifeless eyes. In respect he closed the eyelids. Mason stooped next to him and gave him a zap knife. "He's going to animate again soon. Best get it over with."

Mary finally arrived with a pot of cold water and poured it over the burned corpse. The searing flesh sizzled loudly, smoke and steam clouding the room. Martin closed his eyes, lining up the blade with Matt's throat, and sliced it apart. Matt's separated head rolled across the floor, the neck wound cauterized by the hot metal.

He held back tears trying to look brave; Gloria was watching from down the hall. She let out a small whimper when Mason picked Matt's head up and impaled it with another ZK.

Martin glared at Mason in disgust. "It wasn't enough to behead him?" He asked furiously. Mason glared back. Before Martin could say more, Mason shoved him aside and stormed out of the house. He slammed the door behind him, blocking the noise and commotion going on inside. Out here it was cold, quiet; not even the crickets made a sound. He looked across the street, at the large trees, scanning for the Mockers they had heard earlier. There was no movement in the branches, except for the needles rustling in a light evening breeze. He looked at the severed head in his hands and dropped it. Before it hit the ground he punted it into the shroud of night. Mason glanced at the garage, thinking about the weapons stored inside, and Gary's super-truck. Then he had an idea.


"We'll burn and bury the remains," Gary explained quietly. He had sent everyone downstairs while he, Pierall, and the Torrenses cleaned up the mess.

"Why did this happen?" Mary wondered aloud. She looked pleadingly at Roger, searching his expression for an explanation. I thought she hadn't been bit, but neither had Carlos and Matt, as far as we know."

"She wasn't. Gary checked her." Pierall remembered.

"That might not be entirely true." Gary said guiltily.

"WHAT?!" Mary and Pierall said in unison. Gary hung his head. I found a bite, but I cleaned it up and-"

"Cleaning the wound won't solve the problem," Roger interrupted.

"You got bit and healed up," Gary reminded him. Roger paled, Pierall looked at him in surprise. "You got bit too?"

Roger sighed. "That's irrelevant. Otis ejected me with the same stuff he did with him-" he pointed at Gary, "-and I'm now immune."

"Well isn't that just convenient for you?" Pierall snapped. "In the mean time, we get bit and we die. And turn into those... things!" He glanced at Matt's decapitated body.

"Guys, stop it!" Mary cried out. "Focus on the matter at hand. Gary, why didn't you warn us?"

Gary shook his head in regret. "I hoped I could save her, thought the cure was ready. The results show it failed completely, it didn't even render her harmless after turning."

Pierall coughed. "If I could kill you for making such a stupid mistake, I swear I would."

"Feel free to try," Gary told him. "Congrats if you find something that works."

"It was an honest mistake," Mary comforted.

Pierall rolled his eyes. "How do you feel knowing the blood of three people is on your hands?" Gary glanced at Roger for support.

"He's right. You should have warned us." Roger muttered,

Gary's eyes glowed green, and then he was gone.

They heard an engine roared loudly to life. Then Roger realized something and asked; "Does anyone know where Mason went?"


Mason pulled swiftly out of the driveway, feeling the power  of the beastly vehicle's giant engine rumble, hearing the gravel being crushed to sand under the tires. In place of a normal dashboard sat a mechanical box with an array of switches. Over the roar of the V12 he thought he could hear a Mocker bellow in the woods. He put the gear into drive and heard a rock clack against the driver window. It was Brady. Mason groaned and opened his door.

"What do you want?" He asked loudly.

"Can I hop in the back?" Brady called back.

Mason thought for a moment, the decided; "Yeah, go ahead. Be careful of the blades though," he warned, referring to the large saw-like discs under the bed off the truck. Brady gave hoot of delight and climbed into the back.

"Damn, this is some firepower," he whistled. Mason chuckled. "You're gonna need it where you're going." He heard an eerie shriek somewhere in the woods and glanced around nervously before adding, "Wait till you see the flamethrowers."

He closed the door and buckled up, then with a smirk hit the gas. Once the truck passed the house they'd been trapped in earlier, Mason began flipping switches. The fog lights flared up, nearly blinding him at first and turning night into day ahead. To his delight he discovered the truck had a stereo and hiked up the volume to where the music drowned out even the roar of the engine. It was deafening, but it helped him clear his head. He saw a Mocker step into the light down the road. Come at me bro, Mason thought wickedly.

 Brady felt the impact and saw the body pass through the spinning blades. It was shredded into thin strands and paste faster than he thought possible. Why didn't they build more of these? He wondered. He saw another Mocker in one off the trees and pulled the trigger, the recoil taking him by surprise when the 50 caliber machine gun sent a hail of bullets in the Mocker's direction. The truck continued to speed down the road.

 In silence Gary ran. He moved through the air close to Mach 1, the speed of sound. He was faster than any living thing on the planet. Each step pushed him forward hundreds of feet. He might as well be flying. The fastest car ever built was no competition. The foliage in his way was blasted apart as he tore through the woods after the bright glow of his truck. Every second he go exponentially closer. As much of a rush it was, feeling the power in his legs that hadn't existed a month ago; as much as it pleased him to have such amazing abilities, Gary still hated it. His existence felt like a curse. 

 He blamed himself for the infection. Surely it had spread far beyond the state by now, killing millions. It was his doing, he believed. If Otis hadn't taken my blood and used it for his twisted purposes, he would often think, none of this would have happened. This all came about because of me. When he had rescued the group in Estes Park, seen the signs of the advanced virus in Roger, he felt fear. Not of Roger, but for him. They were both pawns in the great game Otis Graham had created.

 Lost in his thoughts Gary's attention faltered, and accidentally slammed into a thick tree. The bark gave in a the wood splintered and cracked; the trunk buckled under the force and burst apart around him, toppling over and blocking the road. Gary rolled several yards across the dirt and got up cursing. Investigating the tree he guessed it had been over a hundred feet tall, and at the base the trunk was over three feet thick. Broken branches longer than school buses lay tangled in a heap around the fallen pine.
 Gary sighed, brushed the splinters off, and resumed his chasing the truck.


"Holy snap," Brady commented, watching the large tree fall behind the truck. He saw more Mockers in the trees ahead and fired the machine gun wildly at them. Several fell, limbs flailing, more than three stories to the ground.

 In the cab, Mason glared intently at the road ahead. An intersection was coming up, and he had no idea which way to turn. Suddenly the passenger door was yanked open; Mason cried out and hit the breaks. A hand clamped over his mouth; he turned his head and realized it was Gary's.

 "How...you?!" he spluttered, bringing the truck to a halt.

 "Thought I'd join you on your rampage." Gary replied. "Besides, it's my truck."

"Yeah, sorry for stealing it," Mason apologized.

"No problem," Gary said calmly. "However driving madly through the neighborhood won't do much good. This is the one thing you want to draw the Seekers' attention to."

 "This thing demolishes!" Brady exclaimed, joining the conversation.

"So you wanna learn how to use the monster?" Gary asked, patting the dashboard.

Mason grinned. "Hell yeah."



Day Sixteen of Infection:

 Roger had slept in late that morning. The last 24 hours had been very stressful and rigorous; all the hiking had taken a toll. It reminded him of his first week after the accident. He tried to block out the memory, but in his dreams it kept appearing, the expression on Tyler's face right before the log toppled over the edge of the path, sliding down the steep mountainside and finally crushing Tyler against a boulder, the sight of the blood-
He rubbed his eyes, trying to push away the terrible images playing repeatedly through his mind.

 He wanted to vomit, but instead took a sip of his coffee. Mary sat down next to him, looking worried.

"You tossed and turned a lot last night," she whispered; so that Martin and Pierall would not hear. They were busy looking through the collection of VHS tapes the previous owners had kept.

 "Tyler," Roger breathed. "I keep seeing it happen, over and over."

 "I'm sorry," Mary said in a sympathetic tone. She kissed his cheek and went to the fridge.

 "We need more supplies soon," she announced, checking the contents.

 "Just be glad Gary has a generator to keep that thing running," said Martin.

 "We can't send a party out right now there's not enough of us," Pierall added.

 "What do you mean?" Mary asked.

 "Mason and Gary took the truck out last night, and they still aren't back."

 "They might have gone on a supply run themselves. They'll be alright." Roger assured.

 Martin stood and stretched. "I don't know about you," he said happily, "but I feel like doing something fun outdoors for once.

 "Keep and eye one the trees," Pierall muttered under his breath. Only Roger heard him, however. Martin clapped his hands and asked; "Who's up for a ball game?"

 "Which kind?" Roger asked, intrigued.

"Well I found a few gloves we could use, and we have bats, so baseball." said Martin.

Roger glanced at Mary, who smiled. "Play ball," she encouraged. He returned his gaze to Martin. "Sure, I'm game."

Episode 302 The Pines Echo

Previously, On Dead Limit:

 "We'll clear out the neighborhood, start a settlement. Eventually build a wall. Start farming."

 "You're insane," Brady replied. "It's a great idea, but it won't work."

 "We'll see." Gary said absent-mindedly. "In the mean time you're welcome to hang around here, well get a couple guys to help you." He went to the door and paused. "What were your names?"

 "Brady," Brady answered, "and Alex, Juan, Morgan and Daniel."


 Gary smiled, "Nice to meet you. Welcome to the Lion's Den."

Carlos fell backwards into Gary's door, knocking it open. Dizzy, the world went topsy-turvy, and he found his face in the carpet. "Ugh," Carlos grunted. Even through the painkillers he could feel sharp stabbing in his ribcage. Crap, he thought. He coughed, spitting blood. Then he saw her. "Help..." he pleaded, barely breathing. In his distorted vision it took him a moment to realize what he was seeing. The woman, Angela, was kneeling beside him, growling. Wait, he thought desperately, the drowsiness taking full effect as she bit into his neck.

---...---

There was a flash of light, brilliant and more beautiful than he could have possibly imagine. Time came to a pause. Surrounding him, in all shapes, forms, colors, his entire life went by in a blink. Eating ice cream as a young boy in Denver. High school prom. Working long days as a mechanic. Always stopping at the corner to spare some change for the homeless. He had indeed been a good person in life, he believed. Even though his life had come to such a horrible ending, for once Carlos felt at peace.

"What's the plan?" Roger asked, his voice sounding distant. Mason shook his head, his mind fogged with anger. He looked out the window; there were at least twenty Seekers in the driveway. He scanned the yard checking for any hiding behind the trees.

"Damn it," Mason growled. "I knew we should've brought more knives..."

"We need to just lay low, wait it out" Roger decided.

"Hell no I'm not staying in here with those things at our doorstep!" Morgan shouted. Beingly closest to the door he swiftly opened it and began firing at the closest Seekers.

"Get back!" Brady called out as Mason shouted "We don't have anything to burn them with, it's pointless!" 
However Morgan continued to shoot wildly. Roger noticed Alex and Daniel looking hesitant.

"Stay in here," he ordered. "Morgan, get back in here!" he hollered, stepping outside. Morgan turned around, gun aimed at Roger.

"Nobody tells me what to do anymore," he sneered. "You ain't my mommy."

Roger opened his mouth to speak, but before he could a body fell from above, landing right on top of him. The weight of the snarling corpse knocked him to the ground.

"Roger!" he heard Mason shout his name and appear in the doorway. Morgan fired a warning shot; Mason cursed and went back inside. Meanwhile the Mocker had him pinned.

"H-ide..." It spoke in its garbled voice, using strength Roger thought impossible to hold his arms down.
"Come on guys, we can make a run for it now," Morgan announced gleefully.

Roger kicked the Mocker off him, yet the monster had surprising reflexes, yanking at his leg when he tried to get up. Morgan barely paid attention to the fight, busy pleading with his friends:

"Brady, come on. Baseball? That's the best lie you've got?"

Roger watched helplessly as Brady stepped outside, joining Morgan. The Mocker had him pinned once more and was reaching its jaw towards his neck.

"Kill him," Morgan told Brady, motioning towards Roger, who was struggling desperately against the ravenous Mocker. "Hiiiide.." It groaned eerily.

Brady clicked off the safety and walked over to them. Roger tried to protest but his energy was spent from wrestling with the apparently stronger creature that was seconds from tearing his throat out. Brady saw the fear in his eyes, the will to survive showing through the scars and bruises, he shook his head regretfully and pulled the trigger.


"Carlos?" Matt asked, coming up the spiral staircase noisily. His boots clang loudly over the sounds of dinner on the floor below. He saw Carlos's door was shut. Probably sleeping again," he thought. Still he knocked on the door with no response. "OK then," he said aloud. "Dinner's ready if you get hungry." He had one boot on the stairs when he heard it: a low, rumbling groan. Looking back he saw the door to Gary's room swing open, saw a large bloodstain on the carpet-

"Ah, hell" he said under his breath, taking a cautious step into the room. He glanced around, barely catching a glimpse of the dark mass that charged out of nowhere. His head broke through the wooden wall behind him, felt a piercing pain in his shoulder, heard a deep growl, then all went black. He barely knew what hit him.

Roger threw the limp Mocker off of him, taking a deep breath. He looked at Brady, who winked.
"What the hell do you think-" Morgan started, until he found Brady aiming the gun at him instead.
"Really? You're rooting for these dumb asses?" Morgan hissed.

"I'm done with my old life," Brady replied, firing. Morgan stared in shock, first at Brady and then the bloody hole in his chest.

"Dumb asses," he repeated as his eyes rolled back and his body collapsed.

"Back to the house," Brady said, helping Roger to his feet. The Seekers that Morgan had shot were animating again, while the rest continued to shuffle towards them.

"They can climb trees," Roger observed. He could see at least two Mockers up in the branches of the big pines. They looked like owls hunting their prey, watching them hungrily. In their crouching position they seemed ready to pounce.

"Any other bright ideas?" Mason asked as they crossed the threshold.

Mason eyed Brady warily as he entered. As soon as the door was shut Mason seized Brady by the shirt collar and shoved him against the wall.

"Where do your loyalties lie?" Mason asked through gritted teeth.

"With you!" Brady gasped. Mason stared at him angrily and pushed him aside. "Your friends ever pull shit like that again, I'll kill them myself," he warned. Brady sputtered, Alex backed away fearfully.

"So how are we supposed to get out of here?" Roger reminded them.

There was a loud scratching at the door, and banging on the front windows. Mason pulled a curtain open, revealing the Seekers pressed up against the glass, snarling and smearing blood everywhere.

"Well there is one thing we could try," Daniel announced, dangling a set of car keys.



"Gloria, are you feeling?" Martin Kray asked, joining her on the large couch in the family room, on the other side of the house from the kitchen. She sat there quietly, hardly noticing his presence. He saw her eyes watering.

"I'm sorry, for whatever happened," he attempted. He wanted nothing more than to comfort her, to see her smile again.

"The apocalypse happened," she muttered. Martin calmly pushed a lock of hair from her face.

"It's not the end," he said, "not yet. We're still here."

"Not for long," she replied. Awkwardly he put an arm around her and pulled her closer.

"This won't work," she told him.

"What?" he asked blankly.

"Us..." she whispered.

"Why not?" he asked.

"Martin, I just can't right now." She explained, "It's not a good time."

Martin took a deep breath. "Alright. I'll wait."



"The top's up, so we can jump!" Daniel was saying. They were looking out a second floor window, the convertible parked directly below. Mason had kicked the screen out and was peering down at the vehicle.
"it's quite a jump," Mason commented.

"I can make it," Daniel claimed confidently. "the cover will cushion my landing." Without another word he clambered onto the window sill and leaped out. They watched him hit the fabric cover and tear through, but he hit the leather chairs softly without harm.

"OK, now it gets tricky," Roger noted.

"I'll go next," Alex offered. Roger felt a pang of guilt seeing the burned scar from Mason's blade on his leg. He noticed Alex wince slightly as he stepped onto the window sill. He knew something was about to go wrong but didn't think to stop it. Alex pushed himself out into the air without enough force, not making it into the car and instead smashing face-first into the windshield.

There was a loud cracking noise, the glass breaking; Daniel cried out in surprised, and Alex rolled lifelessly of the hood of the convertible leaving a trail of blood.

"Crap!" Brady cursed.

Daniel stared at the red-stained, broken windshield in shock. he noticed a little glob stuck between a few large shards and leaned close to get a better look. When he saw what it was he turned away in disgust  it was a single torn out eyeball.

"You need to distract them," Mason hollered down to him.

"Start driving, lead them away," Brady instructed. Daniel nodded absent-mindedly and got in the driver's seat. Mason shut the window and sighed.

"Today's not a good day, is it?" he wondered aloud. The engine roared to life outside, tires screeching as Daniel swiftly pulled out of the driveway. They heard the horn blare several times and the commotion downstairs stopped. The Seekers left the house in pursuit of the car and its driver instead.

"Let's get ready to ditch this place," Mason ordered. They followed him back down to the front door. He stopped, listening intently. "Sounds like they all left. Now when open this door, we run like hell back to the den. On my mark..."


Daniel was honking repeatedly, driving just ahead of the Seekers chasing him. He could tell they were hungry, bloodthirsty, even if he sped away it seemed they would find a way to catch him. Wind and leaves blew in through the torn hole in the cover, Shadows cast by the large trees in the evening light obscured his vision, which was already blurred by tears. He was ready to turn around, to confront his hunters and run them over, when he heard a loud thump in the backseat. Looking behind him he saw a Mocker growling, tangled up in the torn fabric.

Daniel swore and hit the brakes hard, meaning to send the Mocker flying forward into the windshield  In a split second he realized his mistake; he wasn't wearing a seat-belt  His body lurched forward hitting the dashboard, and suddenly blown back forcefully by the airbag.

Daniel groaned, glancing around his surroundings. He heard the shuffling of feet, wheezing voices and snarls of the Seekers closing on him, their prey. Above him, in the branches of the trees, crouched more Mockers. One gave an unearthly bellow, and the others roar in return. Daniel shook in fear at the sight of such monsters. The eerie sound of their triumph echoed through the woods. In unison they dropped from the pines. He knew this was the end as he watched death fall from the sky.



"I'm getting awful worried about this place," Pierall grumbled. Dinner was over, everyone was bringing plates to the sink where Gary was washing dishes at an incredible rate. The old man was sitting at the bar with Mary.

"What do you mean? It's secluded," Mary replied.

"That's what we all want to think," Pierall told her. She looked confused, so he went on; "Sure it's a small mountain town, but haven't you noticed how many people apparently pass through here?"

"Is there danger in that though?"

"Depends on who takes the highway."

Mary sighed, wanting to change the subject. She believed in the security and hospitality Gary provided. "Look at him go," She commented, nodding at Gary.

"Yeah," Pierall grumbled. "We have a new dishwasher."

"What's wrong with you?" Mary snapped. "You are so negative about him, and he's an excellent host!"

"You know me Mary, it's hard for me to trust anyone."

"Why, because he's like Otis?"

"That's part of it."

"You trust Roger," She told him. Pierall couldn't answer; instead he shook his head, grumbled something about smoking, and went outside. The sun had passed the mountains leaving the sky a deepening navy blue. The trees were casting long dark shadows across the ground. Pierall lit a cigarette and looked at the clouds. They were clean, white, no longer polluted by fallout and smoke.

He heard several loud footsteps in the gravel down the road, but a short evergreen blocked his view. A few moments later Roger, Mason and Brady came sprinting around the corner, panting and saying something about the trees.

"What's up with you three?" Pierall asked, going down the stairs from the porch to the driveway. Roger took a gulp of air. "Mockers. In the pines."

  "What? English please?"

   Mason sputtered; "Aren't you listening, geezer? The zombies learned how to climb the damn trees!"

  Suddenly, as if from every direction, they heard an unearthly chorus of snarls and roars.

   "We're being hunted..." Brady wheezed.

  Pierall stared at them, appalled. Then, from in the house, they heard screaming.

Episode 301 Ashes Of Winter

Previously, On Dead Limit:

“My name is Gary Hostel. The mutation gave me enhanced speed, strength, hearing, and healing. I cannot die.”

"I was working on a sort of formula…A cure, hopefully."


“Promise me if I ever get infected and we haven’t found a cure you will do the right thing. You have to survive.”


“Cast not helping much?” Gloria wondered.

“Hell yeah it is!” Carlos muttered, “I wouldn’t be walking without it!”

“Did you take some meds?”

“I’m out of pain killers. Will anti-depressants work?”

“What you need is morphine,” Mary explained, standing up and heading for the front door. “I’ll talk to Gary and see if he has any…”


Breaking the peaceful morning silence and drawing their attention to the south came a faraway gunshot. The girls screamed and dropped to the floor in fear.

"Is it another sniper?" Taylor exclaimed, ducking behind the bed. Lissette threw open the door and pulled her younger sister out into the hall and down the stairs. They passed Gloria and Carlos, saying "did you hear the gunshot?" and where's Gary?" then found him as he burst into the foyer. "Everybody alright in here?" he yelled.


"Might have been someone passing through, or a hunter. It is the Rocky Mountains.” Mason was saying.

“We don’t want to find out, if they’re hostile.” Pierall pointed out.


Next to the highway was a small fire station. The sign said Pinewood Springs Fire Protection.


Roger twisted the knob to the front door.  The place was dark and a mess: it looked like those who could not make it to a hospital stopped here. There were dozens of body bags, and several more corpses stacked on tables, piled on floors. The other two came in, and cursed at the sight of the interior. Roger spotted a chair and grabbed it, meaning to put it in the doorway. Then he found a double barrel in his face.

The leader, Brady, shook his head. “These guys mean no harm. Let em’ go.”

"You probably just saved all of our lives," Roger replied, showing them a handful of frag grenades.

The others groaned and lowered their guns. Mason and Pierall climbed back to their feet and retrieved theirs.

“So what did you shoot a minute ago?” Brady asked.

Roger shook his head, confused. “I though since you had the guns you were the shooter?” he told him.

“Then who was it?” the injured one asked.


Found them,” Mason growled, pointing out the door. 

---...---

Roaring down the road, almost out of gas, a lone biker sped around the tight turns and bends of the rocky mountain highway. The rider, a woman wearing a ragged police uniform, knew there was a town maybe twenty miles away and was desperately priming the ignition, trying to suck out all remaining fumes from the tank. To her dismay the bike gave a stuttering cough and died, leaving her with only the leftover momentum to provide speed. She managed to turn one last corner, and then shrieked as a deer leaped into the road directly ahead. She swerved just in time, but hit the guard rail before she could react further. Whether it was luck or not, the woman was thrown off the motorcycle on the road side of the rail, barely missing a fifty foot fall into the rapids churning in the ravine below. Covered in new scrapes and bruises the woman clambered to her feet, dusted off her uniform and started walking.

"Found them," Mason growled, pointing out the door. Roger and Brady came over to see. It was a woman, in a tattered uniform worn by Denver police officers. She looked Asian; however her features were heavily obscured by bruises and dried blood. Her dark hair, which would normally be shoulder-length, was a tangled nest around her head. A sheathed katana was slung over her shoulder, there was a holstered pistol at her waist, and she was aiming an M16 shakily towards them.

"Don't shoot," Roger said cautiously. The look on the woman's blood-crusted face was that of someone with nothing to lose. Roger was afraid of her snapping at any moment.

She shook her head slightly. In a raspy voice she replied, "What makes you any better than the other thugs? Why do you deserve life?" She glanced behind them at the members of Brady's group.

"We aren't... thugs," Roger explained. "Just a group of survivors trying to make the best of things."

"Small group."

"There's more, a camp in the valley," Roger told her. Mason glared at him.

"What's your name, lady?" Mason asked.

The woman sighed and lowered her weapon. Tiredly she answered, "Angela Walker."

"You fired your gun earlier?" Pierall questioned as he stepped outside to join the conversation.

Angela frowned. "No, I ran into a guy down the road. He was... crazed. Fired his last shot at me."

"You killed him?" Brady assumed. Angela shuddered.

"No."

"He's still alive then? Followed you?"

"No."

Roger looked at her, wondering... "He turned?" Mason glanced at him in surprise, but Angela nodded.

"It was..." She coughed and fell to her knees. Pierall approached her but she raised a hand muttering, "I'm fine." She struggled to stand, but fainted. Mason took a step back, appalled. Roger and Pierall slowly moved towards her limp body.

"Is she infected?" One of Brady's men questioned warily.

Mason stayed back as the rest surrounded the woman. Her body twitched, surprising a few of them. The man Mason had stabbed whipped out his gun. She let out a groan, and then under her breath muttered something. "Ashes..." Brady gave Roger a puzzled looked, but they knelt close to listen: "ashes...we all... fall down..."

"Where do you think you're off too?" a voice yelled from off the road. Angela, exhausted, paused and scanned the shrubbery. Out stepped a young man with a scraggly beard, wearing a plaid shirt and muddy jeans. He staggered towards her and continued in a drunken tone, "Bad time for a cycle, darling. You're a  ..." he knelt and heaved a mix of red and yellow liquid. She winced at the disgusting sound and turned away, stumbling down the highway.

"Listen, bitch..." the drunk growled, pulling a revolver from somewhere in his pants. He wiped the bile from his face and smiled. "Youain’t going nowhere now." With a wild laugh he pulled the trigger, but nothing happened. Angela gasped and started running, the crazy man hot on her heel. She heard the gun clicking, sounding much closer than it should.

Her lungs burning, muscles screaming, she fell to the asphalt. The man laughed again as he caught up, took aim, and actually fired a round. She rolled away instinctively, but it was unnecessary; in his state the man couldn't hit anything with precision. The bullet bounced harmlessly off the road with a ping!

He stared blankly at her, seeming confused that he'd missed. "Why aren't you dead?" he mumbled absently. Angela smirked and delivered a sharp kick to his crotch. He flinched, glanced down, and then toppled over, his head giving a loud thunk when it hit the ground.

She scooted away, trying to process what had happened. He was drunk, she thought, must've passed out spontaneously. She got up, groaning from the soreness throughout her body. She picked up the revolver, but threw it aside knowing it was empty. She was about to walk away when she heard a low gurgle. She froze. The man's body twitched unnaturally. How? She thought. The body lying before her was reanimating quicker than she thought was possible. She grabbed the hilt of her sword but froze again when he spoke. In a raspy, lifeless voice it repeated the host's final words: "Why aren’t you dead?"

The voice seemed to echo in her mind, "Why aren’t you dead?" She rubbed her eyes and downed another shot. "Why-"

"Angela?" a familiar voice screamed over the memory. Blinking away the thoughts brought on by the whiskey she was drinking, Angela took in her surroundings. The bar was nearly empty. A couples guys were roaring at the Broncos game showing on the big TVs. The guy approaching her, a suave young Hispanic and her best friend. Seeing her in such poor state he grimaced. "Miguel," Angela whispered. "Come on," Miguel replied, "We need to get you home now. As he pulled her from the stool Angela noticed the room had gone quiet. The televisions were no longer showing the Broncos game, instead news reporters were speaking urgently, and clips of police shooting civilians flashed across the screen.

"Turn the volume up!" Miguel requested.

"Haven't seen anything like this before...” the newswoman was saying.”Officers are being forced to open fire on these people, who seem to have gone mad and are killing innocent bystanders. Oh my god, they're eating people!" The camera panned, showing a barricade of squad vehicles in front of a hospital. The image zoomed in on a bloody doctor, missing an arm. Angela and Miguel gaped as they watched the doctor kneel by a fallen officer and bite his neck.

She shut her eyes, not wanting to believe it. The question still floated in her mind. Had she been on duty that night, she would have been killed during the slaughter at the hospital. If Miguel hadn't come back to help at the station, surely she'd have died. Even NORAD, the place thought to be haven, had turned into a trap. Somehow she'd survived it all. The fallout. Motorcycle crash. Highway drunk. All of it. Why aren't you dead? She asked herself.

"How is she?" Mary asked. Roger and the guys had returned with several new "guests" as Gary had announced, although most of the group disagreed. The man named Brady and his "gang" couldn't be trusted, according to Pierall, who was now interrogating them in the garage.

"Angela's fine now," Gary assured her, closing the door to his room and going down the spiral staircase. 

"What are the odds though?" Mary wondered aloud as she followed.

"She abandoned you at NORAD, drove through a fallout-ridden, destroyed Denver and managed to meet your ex at a random building and a random time?" He chuckled as he reached the kitchen, opened the fridge and grabbed a beer. "I'd say those are some strange odds. But we all know the saying-" he popped the cap off and raised his bottle "-it's a small world."

"Indeed it is," Carlos said in a booming voice, as if his heavy footsteps didn't announce his arrival. "Can you grab me one? He asked, nodding at Gary's drink. Mary shook her head.

"Not right now, you should be resting." She told him, teasingly poking at his gauze-wrapped ribcage. He winced away and she laughed.

"Don't even joke about it, Mary! It hurts like hell, you just can't see through the tough guy facade."

"Ha! Knew it was an act all the time." Martin exclaimed, entering the room with Matt. 

"Our best fighter's a phony!" Matt added, lighting a cigarette.

"Not in the house please." Gary warned. Matt smirked and flicked it into the living room. In a blink Gary was there to catch it, glaring at them. "Really?" he said, exasperated.

"We just wanted to see you do the super-speed thing again," Martin explained cheerily.

"I know." Gary sighed. They laughed, and he joined them. "You think its funny right?" he asked, with a smile too big to be real. Mary and Carlos watched in shock as he disappeared, and was suddenly inches away from the boys, holding a knife to each of their throats. His eyes were glowing a deep green, veins pulsing.

"How about now?" he whispered. They shook their heads fearfully. "This is the apocalypse. Someday we all must learn to grow up." He backed away, staring angrily at them. "So, we were talking about Angela?" he said happily, expression changing suddenly. "Yep." Mary answered, while the boys, too scared to speak, left the room silently. Carlos gave Gary a high-five a snorted. 

"Who's the real actor?" he said humorously.

"It's wrong of them to treat you that way..." Mary muttered.

"You mean treat me like a freak?" Gary asked, taking a gulp from his bottle. "I've had worse. Trust me." He set the empty bottle down. "I'm going to check in on the interviews." he decided aloud.

"The interrogations, you mean?" Carlos corrected.

"Now that sounds a little harsh, doesn't it?" Gary commented.

The garage was dark. One of the vehicles had been replaced with a table and two chairs, occupied by Pierall and Brady. The four others stood off to the side, listening quietly.

"So you were all on a baseball team?" Pierall inquired.

"In Estes Park. We played against another group every now and then. Just for kicks."

"You were in the station how long?"

"Two nights," Brady calmly answered. Pierall sighed; if Brady was hiding anything he sure wasn't going to find out this way.

"Can I get your names now?" Brady shook his head and opened his mouth, but it was his friend who spoke.

"Alejandro. Alex for short." One replied. Pierall nodded. "Mason stabbed you... we can get that wound checked out if you like."

"I won't need help, its melted shut, remember?"

Brady stood up and held up a hand to silence him. "Look man, we're appreciate your offer to stay, but I think we're ok on our own."

"Your men seem to disagree," Pierall observed. They looked weary, hungry, and quite frankly: scared.

The door flew open, light flooding the garage as Gary stepped in. "You can go now," he told Pierall, who grumbled and got up to leave.

"How about a new offer: We clear out a nearby house for you nearby, and in return you help us build a new life here."

"What do you mean a new life?" Alex asked.

"We'll clear out the neighborhood, start a settlement. Eventually build a wall. Start farming."

"You're insane," Brady replied. "It's a great idea, but it won't work."

"We'll see." Gary said absent-mindedly. "In the mean time you're welcome to hang around here, well get a couple guys to help you." He went to the door and paused. "What were your names?"

"Brady," Brady answered, "and Alex, Juan, Morgan and Daniel."

Gary smiled, "Nice to meet you. Welcome to the Lion's Den."

Angela woke up screaming. The nightmares were so vivid, so real; she had a hard time distinguishing memory from reality. Right now, she was in a bed. This bed was in a room with wooden walls covered in furs and giant stuffed animal heads. She felt the ache in her muscles and the warmth of the blankets, and decided she must be awake. Slowly Angela sat up and stretched, when the door burst open and two teenage girls dashed in.

"Is everything alright, miss?" the older looking one asked, sounding worried. Angela wanted to speak, but was fighting another wave of exhaustion. Her vision blurred and she felt light-headed, however she managed to speak the one question on her mind: "Why am I not dead?" before slipping back into darkness.

"The woman's delirious," Lissette was saying to Mary a few minutes later in the living room. Her older sister, Taylor, was busy washing dishes but added: “I can't help feeling like she's infected."

"Taylor..." Mary warned.

"I know. Gary said there weren't any bite marks. Still..."

Lissette got off the couch a joined her sister. "What about those men?"

"They look like drug users, or gangsters as the old man believes."

"If anything happens, Gary will take care of it," Mary reminded them.

Thunk! The knife hit the tree handle-first and fell to the ground. Snap! Another knife split a medium branch halfway.

"Still practicing with those?" Mason asked, joining Roger by the artificial waterfall in the backyard. Roger was up on one of the boulders, a pile of normal knives lying at his feet.

"They aren't tomahawks but they'll work for quiet fighting." Roger said, flinging one more into the yard before climbing down.

"Gary has a job for us; we need to help clear a house for the new folks." Mason announced as they climbed the stairs to the deck where Carlos was lounging.

"Damn it," Roger remembered, "He needs meds."

"Ah hell, forgot about that. Hope the new house has a first aid kit." Carlos snored loudly, and Mason grinned. "He's at peace for now."

"How did you find us?" Mary asked. It was later that afternoon; the guys had already left to find another house to use. She was kneeling next to Angela's bed, having a one-sided conversation. Angela was in a deep sleep; Mary had tried waking her but couldn't. She knew Angela was still alive, she was breathing and had a healthy pulse, but showed no sign of coming to.

"It just doesn't seem possible," Mary continued, "There's no way we could meet in the same place taking such different paths." She looked at Angela, unmoving, silent; she’d been such a mess when they brought her in that morning bloodstained and crazed. Gary had cleaned her up and let her use the bed; not to Lissette and Taylor's liking.

"I'm glad you found us though. I hope you get better soon." She walked out quietly and closed the door. She considered locking it from inside, but decided it wasn't worth it. Laughter rang from downstairs. Dinner was ready.

The house had a foreboding presence to it. It was the third down the road, the first to not have obvious damage. The door and windows were intact, and there was a nice car parked in the long driveway. The place was built far from the road, surrounded by trees. The low sunlight glanced off the bright blue roof, creating a glare that made them shade their eyes as they approached the house.

"Oh sweet baby Jesus," Brady whistled when they reached the car. It was a year-old Infiniti convertible, and to his joy, it was spotless. "Thank you," he said to the sky. His friends smiled looking at the car.

"Comes with the house, right?" Daniel asked.

Roger and Mason kept walking, ignoring the car. They were intent on getting the job done and getting out, still not comfortable being alone with near-strangers.

"Hurry up," Mason ordered; the guys were still gawking at the convertible. 

Mason raised a leg to kick the door in, but Roger got it the way and twisted the handle. To his surprise, the door opened. Roger raised the shotgun, ready to fire if a Seeker jumped out.

"Mason and I will take this floor, the rest of you split up and get the rest," Roger ordered. They entered spread out: Brady went upstairs with Juan and Morgan while Daniel and Alex headed to the garage. Meanwhile Roger found the kitchen, a last meal still laid out on the table. Flies buzzed around loudly and the smell was nauseating, but he pulled his shirt over his nose to block it. He opened the cabinets but found them empty, except for stacks of dishes. No food.

"Any canned goods?" Mason hollered from the next room.

"Nothing!" Roger yelled back. He opened the fridge, only to find more flies. He heard a gunshot upstairs, then another. Mason came into the kitchen, looking upset.

"Damn, the owners were upstairs." He shook his head sadly; Roger patted him on the back.

"You killed a lot at Estes. Isn't that enough for a week?"

"I'll get them next time." Mason assured himself. Then they heard Juan scream.

Roger skipped steps up the stairs and dashed into the hallway, running into Brady.

"Juan!" Brady shouted, running into the room and opening fire with his Uzi. The female Seeker's head looked like swiss cheese before breaking apart, however the headless body continued to thrash around wildly, standing over Juan, a chunk of his flesh torn from his calf.

"It won't die!" Brady exclaimed. He fumbled through his pockets and discovered he was out of ammo.

"Out of my way!" Mason hollered, pushing him aside and stabbing an electrified knife into the corpse's chest. In a second it shook all over, suddenly burst into flames and collapsed.

"Shooting them isn't enough," he explained to Brady, who looked astonished. "You have to blow them up, rip them into pieces, or burn these sons of the devil."

"Is Juan bit?" Morgan asked, walking into the room fearfully. He took a sharp breath when he saw the bite in his friend's leg.

"I have an idea," Mason announced, placing his knife just below Juan's knee. "Maybe amputation can save him."

"No," Brady said sadly.

"Why not? It can't spread that fast!" Morgan argued.

"His stomach," Roger pointed out. Unnoticed before, Juan's side had been clawed open. A loop of small intestine was hanging limply out of the hole. Morgan covered his mouth and turned away.

"Guys! We have company!" Alex yelled from downstairs. Mason looked at Brady, who nodded silently. Everyone left the room to see what the issue was save Mason, who drove the blade into Juan's skull. His body gave a jolt, but there was not fire. Mason pulled the knife out, wiped sweat off his brow, and stabbed Juan's corpse in the heart. His bloody shirt caught on fire, nearly burning Mason's hand when he pulled the knife back out and stabbed again. And again. He couldn't stop himself, he hated the monster this dead man would become, could not allow it to happen.

"Mason?" he heard Roger call. Splattered in blood Mason watched the body burn before him, and then decided his work was done, stamped out the flames, hitting harder than necessary out of fury. He ran into Roger as he stepped into the hallway, who worriedly said,

"There's a lot more outside now."

Mason grinned.

Carlos felt drunk. At least the pain was gone. An empty bottle of pills sat on the counter, and his reflection in the bathroom mirror showed he was sweating profusely. He wanted to hurl, and almost did, bending over the toilet just in case, although nothing came out. On top of all these side effects, he felt drowsy. Gary had given him the bedroom next to his; it was just down the hall. Clumsily he made his way out into the hall. He heard lots of noise from downstairs, dinner was in session. He came to his door, and accidentally tripped himself. Carlos fell backwards into Gary's door, knocking it open. Dizzy, the world went topsy-turvy, and he found his face in the carpet.

"Ugh," Carlos grunted. Even through the painkillers he could feel sharp stabbing in his ribcage. Crap, he thought. He coughed, spitting blood. Then he saw her.

"Help..." he pleaded, barely breathing. In his distorted vision it took him a moment to realize what he was seeing. The woman, Angela, was kneeling beside him, growling. Wait, he thought desperately, the drowsiness taking full effect as she bit into his neck.