“We need to leave,” Roger replied. Mary looked at him quizzically.
“Where would we go?” she wondered aloud.
“Cheyenne,” Roger explained, “I just heard that radio transmission Pierall’s been going on about.”
“I’m going to kill them. All of them.” Mason growled, “Every last damn zombie in this town, MY town, is going to pay. I will send them back to the depths of hell.”
=====
He drove down the busy street, watching only the road. In the backseat was a pile of gas grenades. In each, he knew, was a large dose of the Seeker virus; the given name for Otis Graham’s Stem-Limit mix. He smiled at the thought of the plan being completed: the whole city of Casper, Wyoming would be under their control. As he drove, several other members of the ‘Grave Club’ were scattered around the city, preparing to release the virus on all its inhabitants. Those who die won’t become friendly ghosts, he thought evilly.
“Jericho? You ready?” A voice crackled over his handheld radio.
“Just about,”he answered. Still driving, he reached back and grabbed a couple grenades. Holding his shirt over his face he rolled down his window, pulled the pins, and tossed. As soon as the grenades left his hand he hit the gas petal hard, swerving through the traffic. Once he reached a more open street he let loose more gas bombs. In the rear-view mirror he watched green plumes envelope the road. He turned left onto 2nd Street and found himself on a crash-course with a cop.
Jericho cursed and swerved, but was unable to regain control. Next thing he saw was the front of his Chevy crashing through the windows of a restaurant.
When he awoke, Jericho heard screams. He smelled gasoline. And the air was…green. He looked down and saw the engine in his lap. His stomach was torn open; intestines lying all over the floor. No! I can’t go this way! Please! he thought desperately. A lady stumbled by and looked at him.
“Help…me…” Jericho pleaded, coughing up blood. The woman came closer, and he saw her eyes…
“Oh, shit…”he muttered. The seeker fell upon him, biting at his already ravaged abdomen. All he could do was scream.
They heard the muffled gunshots in the distance. The echoing sounds continued for several minutes. The shots were only a few miles away; just around the mountain.
“We’re gonna help the right?” Lissette asked.
“Gary, come on, those people need our help!” Taylor begged. They had been at this house for two nights now; after Gary determined the area of Lyons to be a relatively safe region. He had just settled in at the old house, whose previous owners had abandoned along with a decent stash of weapons and ammo. He could only hope that they had made it out of the state alive.
Now he was hearing the sounds of war again, this time far out of the busy urban environment he was used to. The three of them had witnessed it all, from the start. It mostly spread from the hospital. When the police arrived it was like giving the virus a buffet and breeding ground in one unsuspecting present. There was so much violence, so many-
“Gary! We have to help them!” Lissette pleaded, running out the door with a pack of guns slung over her shoulder. Gary sighed.
“Okay, get the Monster ready.”
They were hopelessly outnumbered. Roger could tell that much easily. Wave after wave from the endless sea of walking corpses came upon them. The group was retreating, back to the vehicles. Some had climbed on top of the RV’s and were firing on the Seekers from high ground. They were out of grenades, and almost out of ammo. Roger was trying to kill multiple zombies with each shotgun blast. Mary was more busy restraining Emily, who was crying and trying to reach her friend Sarah, who everyone knew was dead.
Pierall was out of ammo and was throwing bottles of beer. Roger saw him stuffing a piece of cloth into one and lighting it.
“Molotov!”Pierall yelled as he tossed it into the raging crowd of corpses. Roger watched it shatter on impact and burst into flames. Good thinking Roger thought gratefully as the blue flames spread across the alcohol-soaked ground. He then turned around, finding himself face to face with a- Blam! The headless Seeker collapsed. He stared at it for a moment: at the cut edge around the throat was a bunch of…claws? Or something similar.‘Weird moving claw teeth’ is how he would later describe it. Without a head, they have to eat somehow, he decided.
He could tell it was over: They had been pushed back all the way to their vehicles, and the oncoming masses of undead were relentless. He saw one of the guys swinging a crow bar madly; surrounded with no chance of escape. Roger started firing in that direction, but to no used. The man disappeared in a throng of thrashing heads and hands. Another creature ran up to Roger. This one he could tell WAS a Mocker: it ran in a serpentine motion, and ducked right when he pulled the trigger. The arm of a Seeker behind it got shredded. Roger Jumped back and squeezed the trigger again, but no shells came out. He swore, and checked his pockets. He was out of ammo. He had already used all eighty rounds, he realized in dismay.
Roger moved to beat the Mocker with the end of his shotgun, but the slightly intelligent creature grabbed the weapon and yanked it away. Roger stumbled back, and in horror watched as the Mocker picked up the gun and swung it at him like a bat. He ducked and kicked the zombie hard in the knee. The Mocker lost its balance, and at the same time he saw a bullet fly through one ear and out the other. It gurgled and hit the asphalt with a low thud. Roger looked up to see Mary coming to his aid. And behind her-
“Look out!”he hollered, jumping to his feet and tackling the Seeker that was moments away from biting his ex-wife. They hit the ground and rolled, Roger punched it in the face but the thing only growled and, before Roger could react, bit him on the neck. Roger screamed and shoved the monster off of him. Took Mary’s pistol, and emptied the rest of the clip on it.
“Everyone get in the cars! We’re busting out of here!” Pierall ordered.
“I won’t tell,” Mary whispered as they ran to the van. Roger’s bite was shallow so there was little blood, however he was still very afraid. Then he remembered something. He reached into the van to grab his radio but found it to be missing. He looked around desperately.
“What?” Mary inquired, seeing the look on Roger’s face.
“Where’s Mason?” he asked.
Mason had hid, for once too afraid to fight. There were just too many. And that hand-he though it had been eaten. He couldn't believe it, but he was emotionally compromised. He peered over the bushes at the battle. The huge intersection was covered in bodies, both living and undead. His friends were being pushed back up the hill. Many were getting back in the vehicles. He breathed deeply, trying to calm down.
Reaching into his pocket he pulled out Roger’s radio.
“We calling a retreat?” he said quietly.
“Who the f-Mason?” he heard Pierall answer incredulously.
“Yeah, it’s me!” Mason exclaimed.
“Where the hell are you?!”
“Up in the woods. Some chased me.”
“You are such a coward, you son of a bit-“
“Yeah, yeah,”Mason snapped. “Don’t leave without me. I’ll be over there in a minute, okay?”
“I have half a mind to, you little wuss. I ought to-“there was a moment of static, the Mason heard a more friendly voice:
“Mason, get down here now. I will distract them for you. Hurry, and good luck!”
“Roger, that,” Mason replied with a smile. Carefully he checked his surroundings. Nothing was moving in the woods, but down around the intersection, practically surrounding the convoy, was still hundreds of Seekers. He could see them climbing on top of the RVs, banging against cars; he could see a couple running for their life, yards from their own RV when the door swung open. Seekers were right behind them, and he could only look on as the awful creatures attacked the couple and entered the vehicle. He knew he was wasting time but barely had the will to move. Finally he clutched his axe and cautiously stood up. Then he saw the truck.
Roger and Mary where trapped. Their van was surrounded by Seekers; who were relentlessly beating against it. The windows were rolled down so they could shoot out, but the creatures were able to grope at them. A Mocker pushed the others aside and tried to grab the door handle. Roger punched it in the nose, and bloody mucus splattered everywhere. The Mocker stumbled back a little and Mary shot it in the neck. A fountain of blood sprang from the carotid artery as the zombie fell.
He heard many of the other vehicles start up; but there was simply no way the van would make it through the throng. Still he revved the engine and released the brakes, hoping there was a way out. There was. The van burst forward, running over several Seekers and pushing aside more before- CLUNK! There was a sudden impact that caused the vehicle to spin, and then roll. Both passengers yelled and screamed as the dumpy clunker tumbled over eight times, coming to a halt on its side in the center of the intersection.
Roger groaned and looked at Mary. She moaned and rubbed her head; there was an ugly gash running from her cheek to her left ear and several bruises. Roger swiftly unbuckled his and Mary’s seatbelts. The van being on its side; she fell on top of him. She looked disoriented and confused. Roger could hear growling and the scraping of feet outside. The windshield was badly cracked but still somehow intact; a pearly web of fine crystals sprinkled with specks of blood.
He could see many dark figures approaching. Mary noticed and seemed to snap back to reality. Her eyes full of fear; she opened her mouth to scream.
“Shh!” Roger hissed, clasping his hand over her mouth. “Keep quiet. We’re getting out of this. It’s going to be OK.” He told her. She looked at him fearfully, knowing that his reassuring was a lie. She removed his hand and said, “There’s too many. No way can we get out.” She was starting to cry. Outside the crowd of undead was getting louder. They could hear the raspy breaths and gurgling, and banging on the frame. A foot kicked through the windshield, scarred and dry. It wriggled through the jagged glass. Roger picked up Mary’s pistol and shot it. It recoiled and he heard a soft thud on the ground outside. The noise of the shot rang through the vehicle. Mary had been wise enough to cover her ears; Roger on the other hand was now experiencing the symptoms of a migraine. He checked the pistol clip- there were only two rounds left.
“There are some tools in the back,” He whispered to Mary. She crawled towards the rear of the van and grabbed a shovel and a pitchfork. Roger scanned the disorganized supplies for a box of ammunition. To his delight he found one box behind his seat, but there were only three bullets in it. He loaded those and took the pitchfork. Silently he pointed up at the passenger window, their easiest point of escape. She nodded.
“Whatever happens, run.” He told her. She shook her head.
“No, I won’t leave you. We can’t do this again.” She said tearfully.
“Listen, I’m already dead anyways,” he reminded her.
“Don’t say th-“She began, but was cut off by a passionate kiss. They embraced only for a moment, then he lifted her up through the open window. After crawling out she looked back regret in her eyes and said sadly, “I’m sorry.”
He climbed out and joined her, and beheld the worst nightmare of his life.
Perhaps three hundred Seekers; foul walking corpses bent on eating human flesh and spreading the virus that controlled them, heavily injured and rotting bloody beings, once a normal person and now nothing but a soulless killing machine; encircled the lone vehicle, a small island in the sea of death. The other survivors were still up the hill, which was covered in fallen bodies and blood. They could see the path the van had made; a trail of crushed flesh and bone, the road stained dark red. It looked as if they were now the center of attention, for the horde was leaving their friends up the hill alone.
A couple Seekers started climbing up to meet them, only to be forcefully knocked back down with the blade of Mary’s shovel. Roger stabbed one in the neck with the pitchfork, the middle prong stabbing into the creature’s eye. The head ripped clean off when Roger lifted the weapon, and he swung, sending it flying into the crowd.
Suddenly a blinding pain filled his head, a feeling of nausea and dizziness combined with a wave of exhaustion came over him, and Roger fell. He was received by the thrashing arms of death itself; or so it seemed.
Mary screamed his name, only a muffled echo in the back of his mind. She jumped down to where he lay a whacked away the closest zombies. He tried standing but the headache was telling him to sleep. He saw the pistol lying on the asphalt and reached for it, but got blocked by a Mocker. The somewhat smarter zombie took a swing at him, catching him in the jaw. Mary swung her shovel down upon the creature’s cranium, breaking open its skull and spilling bloody gray matter on the ground. Roger retrieved the pistol, and raised it to fire. Everything seemed to slow down.
At his back Mary stood ready with the shovel, ahead the crowd of Seekers was less dense (a flicker of hope ran through his mind), but all around them were the creatures, emotionless, ugly, hungry monsters. He looked down the sights of the Browning handgun, and vision cleared, became sharp. He pulled the trigger.
The bullet went cleanly through the pupil of the Seeker’s eye and out the back, grazed the cheek of another, and hit a third in the jugular.
Mary stared at him for a moment in surprise. There was little time for distractions, however. The encircling horde was closing around them even tighter. A Mocker atop the van was about to pounce when Roger shot it in the groin. To his amazement he saw the bullet exit the top of the creature’s head.
A loud squealing of brakes caught their attention, a horn blared loudly; Roger, Mary, and many others turned in the direction of the new noise. Then they saw the truck.
It was military in origin, from what Roger could tell, but nothing like any vehicle he'd ever seen. At the front was a large snow plow, several metal bars surrounded the sides to create a cage-like barrier four feet high, There was an RPG turret and several machine guns attached to the bed railing; He also saw spinning blades along the bottom edge, several crates stacked on the raised bed (which was six feet up), each wheel had four 1-foot spikes, and there were guns built into the cab's doors. Roger couldn't see the driver; the windshield was tinted and had a metal grate over it, but there where two young women in the back, one loading the RPG and the other taking position at one of the machine guns.
The grenade launcher fired with a loud BOOM! and a large blast blew tens of Seekers to mush instantly. Then the girls opened fire on the horde, practically mowing the creatures down. Roger and Mary ducked as the line of rapid-fire swept over them. The truck revved its engine loudly, the roar of it made audible even above the machine gun fire. Then it burst forward, in Roger's perspective cutting down everything in its way. Blood actually sprayed out the sides. He and Mary could hear the tearing of flesh and grinding of bone as the large circular blades massacred each Seeker it came in contact with. Another grenade was launched, landing close to where Roger and Mary were laying.
"Go!" he shouted, pulling her to her feet and sprinting away from the little explosive. when it went off the shockwave knocked them back to the ground. They could see a clear path out of the shrinking throng now, and the other survivors running down the hill to rejoin the fight.
"Look out!" he heard Pierall yell as the truck burst through the crowd, coming to a halt mere feet from him and Mary. The driver honked, then opened the door. Roger had little time to see who it was, he only heard the guy shout, "Get up the hill, now!"
Roger started up the hill, holding Mary's trembling hand. He heard a door slam and looked back. Coming up the hill behind him, clothes torn and face grave, was Mason. "That thing is sweet," he gasped once he'd caught up.
"Good to see you made it," Roger said gladly.
"I got a ride," Mason laughed. Looking up at the parking lot Roger saw everyone getting back into the vehicles. Pierall gave them a wave, telling them to hurry. They dashed up the hill, hearing the rapid gunfire and explosions and wondering who their saviors were. Once they reached the parking lot they looked back. There weren't many Seekers left standing, and those that were soon fell, full of holes.
"What happens when they start waking up?" Mason wondered aloud. They watched as the last creature was splattered across the intersection. Then, as if to answer Mason's question, fire sprang from the sides of the truck enveloping everything, torching the entire area within thirty feet of its source. The street was left blackened and smoking. Mason whistled, Mary stared wide-eyed, still in shock.
"Come on, time for us to leave," Pierall announced.
"What'd we hit?" Roger asked.
"Fire hydrant," Pierall answered, pointing to a small fountain of water by the street.
Mason snorted and fought back giggles, receiving glares from Mary and Pierall. Roger merely rolled his eyes.
"Who are they?" he pointed to the truck, who's passengers where now walking purposefully up the hill.
"You people sure have guts!" One of the girls shouted. The older one punched her and mouthed what Roger guessed was "Shut up," the guy, a younger person in his twenties, called out, "Heading for Cheyenne, I suppose?"
Pierall cautiously approached him, a bit surprised by the guy's kind tone.
"We are," he said.
"What made them swarm you like that?" the guy asked, pointing at the charred remains.
"Just an accident, is all" Pierall assured, but angrily eyeing Mason.
"Well if you need a place to stay, and you know, rest and resupply or anything, I've got a place in Lyons-"
"Too close to Denver, are you crazy?" Mason burst out.
"Well, it's about halfway to Lyons, actually. A small neighborhood between the mountains. Very secluded."
"I think we will take your offer, at least for tonight," Pierall told him. "That battle was very stressing and we all could use some rest. We've been on the road all day." he explained.
"Alright, just follow me then," the guy said happily. "Oh, by the way, I never got your name. Mine's Gary." He held out his hand, and Pierall reluctantly shook it and told him his name.
"Okay, so you guys just follow me!" Gary said, leading the two girls with him back to the truck.
Looking back he caught Roger's eye, and the two of them stared for a moment at each other. There was some sort of recognition between them, he looks so familiar, Roger thought. He swore he saw a flash of green in the man's eyes. Roger felt a head rush coming on and steadied himself for a moment. He suddenly realized that his arm was no longer in pain; it was sore but he couldn't feel the bite wound. In shock he saw it was gone, but said nothing.
Pierall shook his head, looking at the burned road. "I hope we don't regret doing this," he muttered.