"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.
---...---
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."