HERE LIES: NO ONE [01]
VOTING HAS FINISHED FOR THIS CHAPTER!
Chapter One: Fight Back
-Point me to your living so I may comfort them! Pastor them to fields of red and polluted flesh. Point me to your living so I may corrupt their veins! Feel their sagging skin give way to infected meat. Point me to your living to watch their transition! Witness civility turn into monstrosity. Point me now to your dead, your many dead. Minds devoured and terror ensues; we will never look at meat the same way again.-
Tanya picked at her white jumpsuit with a dark scowl, her facial tattoos wrinkling near her eyes. The material was chafing the sores her body was starting to produce. The new biological weapon those stupid scientists had shoved into her veins was worse than the last one. The last one had made her lose all her hair and a couple of toes; this one—lesions and some sort of skin rot. It was what, the ninth different virus they had infected her with? She had to be some sort of epidemic cesspool now. Those scientists, with their needles and hazmat suits so you never saw their faces, she would love to kill them all. Right after she got her stash of heroin back that is. Half for her, half for the stupid teens she had been selling to before she was arrested. She couldn’t believe it when two days into the prison system she had been bagged and dragged out here, wherever that was.
“Hey sexy, you got a blunt shoved up somewhere I don’t know about?” a raspy voice called out from the locked cell across the hall from hers. “I’m dying over here.”
Kickswitch, or Ryan Homes, the only other still living inmate in this laboratory apart from Tanya was trying to lockpick his way out of his room. He was right, Tanya thought, he really was dying. The scientists had given him more injections that they had to her and she doubted the man had much longer than a day or so. Too bad, the guy was hot.
“I wish I had something for you baby.” she cooed out, her voice sounding gravely and hoarse.
Kickswitch didn’t reply right away. Tanya frowned. “You still breathing?”
“Yeah, just gimme a second. It’s pretty hard to pick a lock only using your pants zipper, you know?”
Tanya smiled, knowing the whole act of trying to escape was meaningless at this point. They were both walking through the doorway of death soon enough, why try? The scientists would just inject them with something new and put them in different parts of the building, leaving Tanya to die by herself—the one thing she had left to fear anymore: being alone.
Kickswitch had a coughing fit and swore. “More blood; I’ve got no idea what they injected into me this time sweetheart. Whatever it is, it’s a bitch. Anyways, I think I got it.”
There was a click and the soft whooshing sound of sealed air being released whispered out. Tanya’s heart jumped to her throat.
“Kickswitch…” she whispered out.
Her door opened with a hiss of escaping air. Kickswitch, a tall skinny white guy walked in, giving a nervous look to the camera in the corner of the room. He looked down at Tanya and gave a lopsided smile, showing a silver grill. “Wassup baby?”
Tanya stood and slugged him in the shoulder. “You idiot! Now they’re going to put us in different places! We’ll never talk to each other again! You see the cameras? Do you?”
Kickswitch rubbed his shoulder with a hurt look. “Yeah, I see the cameras! I see them!”
Tanya instantly felt horrible for hitting the one guy who’d stuck through everything she had in the last three months at this nightmarish prison. This was the first time they had actually been in physical contact with each other. Tanya wrapper her arms around the man and she felt him tense up in surprise, then relax. Kickswitch hugged her back. She began to sob, all the memories of the injections, the different viruses, and the looming end rushing into her. She could feel a couple of tears landing on her bald scalp: Kickswitch was crying also.
“They’re going to separate us you idiot.” she said with gritted teeth. “We’ll be dead within a few hours alone instead of together!”
Kickswitch chuckled. “Tanya baby, I got minutes. Hell, by the time the scientists and security put on all their fancy suits and gear up to come in here I’ll be already dead.”
Tanya looked up into the eyes of the petty thief. He was right, he had only half-an-hour left, if that.
“Then why escape?” she asked.
“For this.” he replied, scooping her face into his and kissing her deeply.
Something primal woke up inside her—something she thought had died three months ago when she had been put in this cell. She grabbed at Kickswitch, kissing him back full-force and tearing at his suit. They took their clothes off and Tanya couldn’t help but laugh.
Thirty minutes later both Tanya and Kickswitch lay naked on the cell floor, their bodies shaking and seizing as the conglomeration of viruses in their bodies—now mixed with each other’s—reacted out. Dozens of Godless creations mixing and mutating, throwing both inmates into cardiac arrest. Both reacted differently to the mutation. Kickswitch died right away, the mutagen gaining the trait to kill within minutes. Tanya’s mutation attacked her lungs, altering their structure. She gave a violent shudder as her chest contracted, expelling everything in her lungs-airbourne virus particles launched in every direction. Some of the particles found their way to Kickswitch and his corpse gave a twitch.
It was horrible timing. The scientists and security personnel came in right as Kickswitch reanimated. The corpse stood and lurched to a suited figure, a new doctor by the name of Austin Sorrow. Kickswitch was no longer Ryan Homes, he was something else entirely. His lips peeled back and he gave a screech, his hands desperately grasping for a grip on the slick suit. His teeth bit down on the visor as Doctor Sorrow screamed out in a panic. Security yanked the dead inmate off of the doctor and shoved him back.
They screamed at him to get down on his knees but Kickswitch just lurched forward again, mouth opening and closing, eyes wide and empty. They shot him with tranquilizers and tasers but it didn’t even slow the corpse, who went after the nearest living person.
They couldn’t slow him down. One of the security members punched the inmate in the face and ended up being tackled to the floor, both rolling around. The dead infected man was pulled away and tossed against a wall. Kickswitch crumpled to the ground and before he could get up, was kicked in the face. He was kicked again, then again. The crunching of bone and tissue sounded out wetly. Kickswitch tried to stand and was kicked once more. The entire group of scientists and security personnel surrounded the body and began to stomp, their hearts hammering out fear, horror coursing through their minds at seeing what had been created. This… this mutation… it hadn’t been intended. They never were supposed to mix things up that way! There was a process, a procedure! The rules had been broken!
The shuddering group of people backed away from Ryan Homes corpse, now broken and crushed, the man’s head caved in. Someone patted Doctor Sorrow on the shoulder.
“This was wrong, all wrong.” he said through the suit’s filter. “This shouldn’t have happened.”
“Hey, where’s the woman?” someone asked.
Everyone spun around, looking, but the room was empty. One of the security officers swore and everyone made a mad dash for the door.
“She can’t get out! She can’t get out!”
They found Tanya wheezing two hallways down, propped against a wall. The woman fell to her side, grinning at the circling team of people.
“You don’t got me now, you pricks. You don’t got me ever.”
Tanya’s infected lungs exhaled once more and she died. One of the security officers looked to Doctor Sorrow.
“Will, will she turn?”
Sorrow didn’t look down at the woman, but instead at the vent grate next to her head, wondering whether whatever had just happened was now airborne. Imagining all the tunnels and ducts that interconnected the entire facility and led to outside. They were never supposed to leave their rooms-the hallways weren’t secured for contamination. Sorrow imagined once more the ducts connecting out to the free air outside. It was a windy day.
Barricades and lines. Checkpoints and guards. The citizens moved forward slowly one at a time, lit up by the football field lights in the dark night, and checked by two different doctors. Police and soldiers glared out at anyone that even fidgeted too much. Once the person was checked for bite marks and exhaled into a device that looked like a breathalyzer, they would either be escorted to the brick school building or taken to a set of waiting buses.
Raf hated the wait, tapping his foot in place as everyone inched forward. Hopefully he would get processed and put on a bus to get out of here soon. The Quarantine Zone was going to be safe, the soldiers said. He looked around, only spotting people his age but not recognizing anyone. That’s what he got for dropping out of society after graduating high school. He watched his surrounding, never really letting his guard down. Yeah, he was a little paranoid—the Zeeks couldn’t get all the way to the school this fast could they? But still, he wasn’t going to be as relaxed as half these young-adults, laughing and shoving each other. Some of them were serious, the level-headed down-to-Earth sort of people, but those were far and few. Too many of them were confident in their ignorance, thinking because they had been safe until now, everything would be okay. Had they watched the news—well, up to when TV stopped working they would have seen over four billion infected or dead, and that had been eight days ago. Now, it could be six billion—or more.
Officers and soldiers alike constantly monitored walkie chatter from guards posted on the perimeters of the school grounds. Men holding assault rifles and .45 caliber pistols walked in patrols through the crowds while an organizer gave out information over a megaphone.
The neighboring towns in the valley have been evacuated. There is no threat of an attack. There are no Zeeks in the valley. Please line up based on age as we will escort you to the Quarantine Zone via the buses.
The pregnant women and children up to the age of twelve already were gone. The elderly over the age of sixty had pulled out as well. Now the buses for both the middle aged and younger teens were about to head out. Men and women alike coordinated with the bus drivers, using hand gestures to point out where and when to leave. Brakes depressed and engines roared as the buses drove out of the football field, ruining the grass. All that was left was the sixteen to twenty-year-olds like Raf. Maybe a thousand civilians.
The chatter and whispering was a lot quieter now that most of the people had been evacuated to the FEMA camps that had been set up over the other side of the valley. No one had been told exactly where the camps were—it was all part of security. There had been rumors of infected civilians finding out where a camp was and breaking in, only to die, turn, and end up destroying the place from the inside out.
So fast. Turning into a Zeek. One bite and within a few moments you went into cardiac arrest and turned. It had to be within a few moments you see, because if it took a long time to turn, one Zeek could devour an entire body in under an hour. But because the turn happened so fast, the Zeek was only able to gobble down a few mouthfuls. It was probably why they were always so hungry.
The virus was gender-based. Infected women breathed out virus particles like plague-factories until they died. Anyone—men and women alike--that had breathed in the virus then died quickly turned. Others were bit, turned, and so on. A perfect chain-reaction. The World Health Organization came to the conclusion that nearly everyone carried the virus within themselves with a few people saying that there were places where the virus hadn’t hit yet and the air was clear: a few communities surrounded by mountains or far up near the North Pole. Those people would shoot anyone that came near, no matter if you were a child or the President. It was they who were the last hope for humanity. With everyone having breathed the contaminated air, it was only a matter of time before they either died of natural causes or were bitten. After that, they would become Zeeks within minutes.
This large valley—large enough for fifty-thousand people—not only had been surrounded by mountains, but also by desert, keeping thousands safe. The high elevation kept most of the wind from other cities blowing around and not through the place.
Unfortunately, the disease spread so fast. The World Health Organization never had time for a cure--the world was so completely overrun by Zeeks that half the organization was dead and the rest had no funding to research a solution.
Now with the valley being flooded by zeeks from one end, panic drove everyone to create an evacuation plan. The military came in, organizing with the police to gather everyone that was still human. They promised that they had established Quarantine Zones somewhere, safe from the spread. If they wanted to live, they all had to leave.
Raf watched as a teenage boy—probably barely sixteen—was dragged of kicking and yelling towards the school. He grimaced, knowing what would happen to the poor guy. Possible infected had to be quarantined. He moved up in the line, standing next to a police officer who eyeballed him up and down. The man was spinning a fireaxe between his hands. Raf stared him back, not really feeling intimidated. The officer opened his mouth to say something to him but stopped when his walkie went off.
Possible movement in Quadrant Four. West side.
The officer pressed the walkie button. “The Zeeks were reportedly coming in and infecting from the edge of the East side of the valley, fourty-five miles away. Are you sure you’re seeing movement on the West side, I mean we’re right up against the edge of the mountain here Jackson.”
Not sure yet. Maybe a stray Zeek walked around the mountain from the North side? Don’t know yet. We’re setting a couple of police dogs loose to explore out there. They’ll let us know if anything’s up.
“Alright.” the officer drowled. “I’ll check up on you in a few minutes.”
The man looked back at Raf. “You seem tense kid.”
“Just ready.” Raf said back quietly.
“Ready for what? To leave? Or to be attacked? You scared the Zeeks are gonna get you?” the officer teased with a smile.
Raf shrugged, feeling uneasy. “You never know what could happen.”
“Kid, you know how fast the Zeeks move? They’re on the opposite end of the valley. It’d take them days to get here.”
“But they never stop or slow down is what I heard on the news.” Raf argued back.
“We had almost no relevant information on the news about these things. Half of it was rumor and the other was speculation. You can’t trust what they had to say.” the officer argued.
Raf shook his head, scoffing as he stepped forward, the line progressing. The officer laughed and followed him.
“You know what kid, after this I plan on finding my family at the Quarantine Zone and grilling up some burgers if I can. I swear, I could make the best sliders in the neighborhood. Too bad everyone had to leave almost all their belongings at home right? I tell you what, if you find me after we’ve all been transferred out of here, I’ll grill you up a patty.”
Raf walked up to the checkpoint where two nurses and a soldier waited for him, the officer following behind.
“Please state your name, any relatives that have passed ahead of you, and remove your shirt so we can inspect you for bites.” one of the nurses said. In the background, Raf paid attention to the officer while he took off his shirt.
The officer had grabbed his walkie. “Hey Jackson, anything from the dogs?”
No, not yet. They haven’t barked or made any noise. They’re not coming back either, which is weird. Wait, hold on. Michael, is that the dogs there? I see movement. No, over there. What are you talking about? Movement over there as well? I don’t see anything. Wait… HOLY! Open Fire! Open fire! They’re everywhere! There’s a whole parade! There’s thousands of them!
The police officer dropped his walkie, face going pale. Raf stopped mid-way through taking his shirt off, feeling his heart skip a beat. What had he just heard?
Suddenly, gunfire erupted from one end of the field. The chugging of dozens of machine guns and screams of soldiers.
“ZEEKS!”
Coming out of the dark, revealed by the lights in the football field, appeared what had to have been at least five-thousand corpses. At first they could have passed for a crowd of drunks or disorderlies. Until you noticed their blood-soaked mouths, their stained torn clothes, their missing limbs, heard the screeches coming from their half-open mouths, teeth clacking—and oh gosh the smell—a thick rich sickly-sweet rot that made you gag. Thousands of clawed arms reached out like a forest of limbs.
The crowd went stupid. Soldiers and police officers pushed forward, drawing their weapons and firing madly, eyes wide with primal fear. Civilians shoved each other down, trampling limbs and faces as they sprinted towards the buses. Raf yanked his shirt back down and looked around wildly, feeling bile churn in his throat. He was going to die! He was going to die here along with everyone else!
Quite a few tried running to the opposite end of the field but were met head-on by another massive group of zeeks. Screaming, they were drowned in a pile of gnashing teeth and blood-caked fingers. The football field was surrounded.
A few civilians—guys and girls the same age as Raf—picked up weapons from fallen soldiers and officers and fired. One missed a zeek and shot two rounds through the throat of some sobbing brunette. One guy turned the gun on himself and popped open his own skullcap.
Death and dying! The noise and the smell… it was going to suffocate him!
A bus started up, closing the doors right as a bunch of frantic people tried to get on. The bus was only halfway full but the guys inside weren’t letting anyone in. They all pushed gun barrels out of the bus windows, screaming for people to get out of the way. The zeeks caught up to them, surrounding the vehicle, dragging down the guys and girls that had been pounding on the doors. The bus lurched forward—intending to peel out of the football field—but came to a sliding halt as the tires caught on the bodies piled in front of the bumper.
The tires turned in place, churning blood and intestines before exploding with a pop as they tore open on bones. Gunfire erupted from all the civilians inside the bus as the zeeks piled up against the windows and doors, a few managing to get on top of the hood. More and more collected against the windshield glass, pressing down. Someone wasn’t thinking right—did something stupid. A round flew through the windshield, shattering it and sending the dozen or so zeeks on the hood of the bus tumbling inside. Blood stained the seats as zeeks had their way with the flailing victims.
The two soldiers, the nurse, and the cop that had been tagging along next to Raf grouped together near the checkpoint booth and fired machine-gun and pistol rounds into the crowd of the dead. Raf covered his ears and took a step back, slipping and landing on his butt. Afraid, he was so damn afraid!
The zeeks were completely around them now, surrounding from all sides, preventing anyone from leaving. They intermingled with the dying civilians, not only at the edges of the field anymore but almost at the center. The people that weren’t completely eaten were already starting to turn. Some crawling and ripping at legs while the unsuspecting victims were too busy looking at eye-level.
One zeek—a burly-looking man with a flannel shirt and large blood-caked beard, pushed out of the surging crowd and stared right at Raf, taking a long step forward. Raf tried standing up couldn’t, his bowels were clenching and his arms felt cold. The zeek came closer and Raf was able to make out more detail. Little strips of glinting flesh and skin hung from the man’s beard, evidence of a recent kill. One of the man’s eyes had been gouged out, maybe by a desperate hand in the last moments of life. The zeek’s teeth seemed almost to jut out as if excited to bite.
It was just so hungry.
Raf pushed himself backwards, closer to the checkpoint booth, mouth opening in a silent scream. This was terror. This was death. Why couldn’t he get up and fight? Was he just going to sit there, crying? Pathetic. What a stupid way to go. Why couldn’t he be strong?
Something whizzed into the zeek’s forehead; a wet cracking sound going off. The monster crumpled. The police officer was suddenly next to him, shoving his fireaxe into his arms.
“Here! Fight back! Don’t let it get to you! Fight back!” he was yelling in his face.
Raf felt his fingers wrap around the wooden handle as if in autopilot, obeying the officer. The man yanked Raf to his feet and turned around. One of the checkpoint soldiers had gone down with a scream. A zeek—missing both its legs—had attacked the man’s calf. The soldier landed on his back, his gun spinning out of his hands as the zeek crawled up his body. It plunged a hand full of long, broken, jagged nails into the man’s exposed soft belly-flesh. A fountain of dark blood flowed out like black flower petals, opening with a splat. The other soldier shot the two struggling forms and turned back to firing at the crowd, his eyes glazed and his facial muscles relaxed. At first Raf thought the soldier was just tough, acting calm. But then he noticed the piss running down the man’s legs. His face was relaxed because he was in shock. The man was gone, hiding deep within himself. The soldier—with an almost relaxed gait—walked off into the crown, dropping his empty gun to the side. He was silently disemboweled three steps later.
The nurse was gone as well, Raf had no idea if she had tried to run or had been killed. He was back-to-back with the officer, clenching the axe handle so tight his palms felt like they were on fire. The officer reloaded, throwing his empty clip in disgust at an incoming zeek. Where were the civilians? It didn’t look like there was anyone around them. No one was fighting anymore. The gunshots were more sporadic and less frequent. Had anyone escaped? No, the field was surrounded on every side. There were so many zeeks--more now, actually. A few groups were still trying to claim the buses, some firing through windows.
One bus started up and shot forward, trying to dodge the collecting swarms of the dead. It spun in a circle, nearly rolling, and made a beeline somewhat towards Raf’s direction. Another bus turned on and tried driving forward as well. Raf could see zeeks inside the vehicle and civilians trying desperately to fight them off with their fists—weaponless. The driver was panicking, screaming as a zeek wrapped its hands around his neck. The infested bus swerved, turning towards the first bus. They were going to collide right in front of the checkpoint!
Right as the first bus was about to pass Raf and the officer—Raf could see fearful faces staring out, making eye contact—the second bus slammed into it, hitting it from the side. There was a tremendous metal-on-metal crashing and grating. Glass shattered. A few zeeks were obliterated. Raf and the officer fell to the grass, the checkpoint booth crumpled like paper in the violent crash.
He had dropped his axe! His axe! Raf’s head swirled as he clambered to his knees, his fingertip coming into contact with something wooden. The handle! He picked up the axe and stood, feeling a small trickle of blood running down his head. The front of the second bus was caved in, blood splattered across the twisted metal like a macabre paintjob. Everyone inside the second bus was dead. The first bus though—the side was bent inwards but there was still movement. The people inside were alive! Guns popped out of open windows and flashed out, bullets spraying the grass and squirming bodies.
There was a scream behind him and Raf spun around. The officer had three zeeks on top of him, their mouths coming down…
Fight back. Don’t let it get to you. Fight back.
His hands tightened around the axe and he shot forward. He was going to die here. He knew it. He was going to be torn apart, his body chewed up into small morsels and swallowed, sliding down corroded throats into black, slimy bellies. But he was going to die swinging.
Don’t let it get to you.
He swung at the first zeek on top of the officer’s exposed broken arm, the sharp bit biting down deep into the monster’s head.
The news had said go for the head. Stop the nervous system. Don’t trust the news, they were filled with rumors and speculation. Trust the news. Fight back, don’t let it get to you.
He pried the axe out of the first zeek, blood arching up. His heart felt like it had stopped, his muscles were all clenched at once, his face felt flushed and yet cold. He swung at the second zeek, splitting its face down the middle. He turned and kicked the third zeek off of the officer’s throat and stomped forward. He brought the axe down and missed, yanked it up, and brought it down again. It hit the zeek’s neck, sinking down to bone. He was screaming, his teeth bared. This was how he was going to die. He brought the axe down again and the bone gave way, the zeek’s head bouncing off into the dark.
A zeek appeared right in his face but fell back, a spray of bullets blowing chunks out of it. Raf dropped the axe and crouched, covering his head. The people on the bus were saving him! He reached out and grabbed his weapon, crawling to the officer who lay drowning in his own blood.
The man’s eyes were wild, looking every which way, until they found Raf. He stopped and his mouth opened and closed. Pale purple and pink strands of intestine surrounded him like slack rope and Raf could see something pulsing inside of the torn abdomen. He retched to the side. The officer’s twitching arm shot forward and grabbed Raf’s bisep. Raf looked at the officer and knew–knew what the man wanted. But he couldn’t! No! He couldn’t do it!
The officer’s mouth opened. Don’t let it get to you. Fight back.
Raf clenched his teeth, sobs raking his body, and nodded. The officer dropped his arm. Raf stood and brought the axe up. The officer was saying something.
Grilling those burgers. The best damn sliders in the neighborhood.
Raf swung and the blade connected with the officer’s forehead. Raf howled out and yanked the weapon free, tears blurring his vision as he staggered away. Bullets buzzed past him angrily. It was him and the people on the bus. Everyone else was dead. The zeeks were closing in, forming walls. Arms reached out, so greedy…
Raf cleared his eyes and found himself in front of the bus doors. They opened and a guy his age, short black-colored hair, was screaming at him at the top of his lungs.
“Get in the bus, you dope!”
Raf wanted to tell him something. Something about barbeques and news reports, but instead climbed up the steps. The bus doors closed behind him and the boy in the driver’s seat turned and looked to the back of the bus.
“Can we yank ourselves free?” he yelled.
Raf looked at the back of the bus as well. There was maybe a dozen people. One boy lay in a girl’s lap, unconscious as blood stained his face. A Hispanic-looking kid with gages pointed a pistol at the unconscious guy, arguing with half the bus.
“He might turn!” he was screaming.
Two twins were rapid firing machine guns through the bus windows. They pulled their guns in and one twin threw his gun to the other. He examined the large section of bus-wall that was caved-in. Seats were crushed into each other and glass littered the isle. The twin kicked at a piece of metal, turned, and yanked the gun out of the Hispanic-guy’s hands. He shoved the guy back and looked up to the driver.
“Does it matter if we can? Drive!”
The people on the bus noticed Raf, their eyes wide. He looked down at himself. He was covered head-to-toe in blood and gore, still holding a dripping-red axe in one hand. He must look like a savage.
The driver slammed his foot on the gas pedal and the bus jumped forward then slowed almost to a stop. It slowly peeled away from the other bus, metal screeching out in protest. But then they were free and the bus shook as they slammed into the wall of zeeks. Raf tackled the steering wheel as it slipped from the driver’s hands and the two worked together to gain control of the bus as it shuddered and skidded across the zeek-infested field. Everyone was yelling, half of them with their eyes shut. The driver pushed down on the pedal even harder, even though it was as far down as it could be. With one final slam—a body hitting the hood—they broke free of the field and the bus screamed in an impossible turn, trying to stay upright as it left the grass and made contact with the road. All four wheels touched asphalt and off they went, heading the only way they could—deeper into the valley.
The driver took a moment to catch his breath, chest heaving in and out, eyes wild. He looked up from his seat to Raf who hung onto a rail.
“The valley—it’s got zeeks coming in from both sides. We’re stuck here.”
Raf nodded, his mind trying to work, trying to peel away from what had just happened. He… he was alive! What had the driver said? Stuck, they were stuck in the valley. His mind came to another conclusion—they had no idea where the Quarantine Zone was.
“I don’t know what to do next. Where do we go?” the driver asked. Raf didn’t know if the question was directed to him, but he answered anyways.
“As deep into the valley as we can go.”
The driver nodded, licking his lips, his face pale. He rubbed a skinny hand across his black hair. “What just happened… I—I…”
Raf grabbed the guy’s shoulder, looking down at his axe and thinking about what the police officer had said. “Don’t let it get to you. Fight back.”
Tanya picked at her white jumpsuit with a dark scowl, her facial tattoos wrinkling near her eyes. The material was chafing the sores her body was starting to produce. The new biological weapon those stupid scientists had shoved into her veins was worse than the last one. The last one had made her lose all her hair and a couple of toes; this one—lesions and some sort of skin rot. It was what, the ninth different virus they had infected her with? She had to be some sort of epidemic cesspool now. Those scientists, with their needles and hazmat suits so you never saw their faces, she would love to kill them all. Right after she got her stash of heroin back that is. Half for her, half for the stupid teens she had been selling to before she was arrested. She couldn’t believe it when two days into the prison system she had been bagged and dragged out here, wherever that was.
“Hey sexy, you got a blunt shoved up somewhere I don’t know about?” a raspy voice called out from the locked cell across the hall from hers. “I’m dying over here.”
Kickswitch, or Ryan Homes, the only other still living inmate in this laboratory apart from Tanya was trying to lockpick his way out of his room. He was right, Tanya thought, he really was dying. The scientists had given him more injections that they had to her and she doubted the man had much longer than a day or so. Too bad, the guy was hot.
“I wish I had something for you baby.” she cooed out, her voice sounding gravely and hoarse.
Kickswitch didn’t reply right away. Tanya frowned. “You still breathing?”
“Yeah, just gimme a second. It’s pretty hard to pick a lock only using your pants zipper, you know?”
Tanya smiled, knowing the whole act of trying to escape was meaningless at this point. They were both walking through the doorway of death soon enough, why try? The scientists would just inject them with something new and put them in different parts of the building, leaving Tanya to die by herself—the one thing she had left to fear anymore: being alone.
Kickswitch had a coughing fit and swore. “More blood; I’ve got no idea what they injected into me this time sweetheart. Whatever it is, it’s a bitch. Anyways, I think I got it.”
There was a click and the soft whooshing sound of sealed air being released whispered out. Tanya’s heart jumped to her throat.
“Kickswitch…” she whispered out.
Her door opened with a hiss of escaping air. Kickswitch, a tall skinny white guy walked in, giving a nervous look to the camera in the corner of the room. He looked down at Tanya and gave a lopsided smile, showing a silver grill. “Wassup baby?”
Tanya stood and slugged him in the shoulder. “You idiot! Now they’re going to put us in different places! We’ll never talk to each other again! You see the cameras? Do you?”
Kickswitch rubbed his shoulder with a hurt look. “Yeah, I see the cameras! I see them!”
Tanya instantly felt horrible for hitting the one guy who’d stuck through everything she had in the last three months at this nightmarish prison. This was the first time they had actually been in physical contact with each other. Tanya wrapper her arms around the man and she felt him tense up in surprise, then relax. Kickswitch hugged her back. She began to sob, all the memories of the injections, the different viruses, and the looming end rushing into her. She could feel a couple of tears landing on her bald scalp: Kickswitch was crying also.
“They’re going to separate us you idiot.” she said with gritted teeth. “We’ll be dead within a few hours alone instead of together!”
Kickswitch chuckled. “Tanya baby, I got minutes. Hell, by the time the scientists and security put on all their fancy suits and gear up to come in here I’ll be already dead.”
Tanya looked up into the eyes of the petty thief. He was right, he had only half-an-hour left, if that.
“Then why escape?” she asked.
“For this.” he replied, scooping her face into his and kissing her deeply.
Something primal woke up inside her—something she thought had died three months ago when she had been put in this cell. She grabbed at Kickswitch, kissing him back full-force and tearing at his suit. They took their clothes off and Tanya couldn’t help but laugh.
Thirty minutes later both Tanya and Kickswitch lay naked on the cell floor, their bodies shaking and seizing as the conglomeration of viruses in their bodies—now mixed with each other’s—reacted out. Dozens of Godless creations mixing and mutating, throwing both inmates into cardiac arrest. Both reacted differently to the mutation. Kickswitch died right away, the mutagen gaining the trait to kill within minutes. Tanya’s mutation attacked her lungs, altering their structure. She gave a violent shudder as her chest contracted, expelling everything in her lungs-airbourne virus particles launched in every direction. Some of the particles found their way to Kickswitch and his corpse gave a twitch.
It was horrible timing. The scientists and security personnel came in right as Kickswitch reanimated. The corpse stood and lurched to a suited figure, a new doctor by the name of Austin Sorrow. Kickswitch was no longer Ryan Homes, he was something else entirely. His lips peeled back and he gave a screech, his hands desperately grasping for a grip on the slick suit. His teeth bit down on the visor as Doctor Sorrow screamed out in a panic. Security yanked the dead inmate off of the doctor and shoved him back.
They screamed at him to get down on his knees but Kickswitch just lurched forward again, mouth opening and closing, eyes wide and empty. They shot him with tranquilizers and tasers but it didn’t even slow the corpse, who went after the nearest living person.
They couldn’t slow him down. One of the security members punched the inmate in the face and ended up being tackled to the floor, both rolling around. The dead infected man was pulled away and tossed against a wall. Kickswitch crumpled to the ground and before he could get up, was kicked in the face. He was kicked again, then again. The crunching of bone and tissue sounded out wetly. Kickswitch tried to stand and was kicked once more. The entire group of scientists and security personnel surrounded the body and began to stomp, their hearts hammering out fear, horror coursing through their minds at seeing what had been created. This… this mutation… it hadn’t been intended. They never were supposed to mix things up that way! There was a process, a procedure! The rules had been broken!
The shuddering group of people backed away from Ryan Homes corpse, now broken and crushed, the man’s head caved in. Someone patted Doctor Sorrow on the shoulder.
“This was wrong, all wrong.” he said through the suit’s filter. “This shouldn’t have happened.”
“Hey, where’s the woman?” someone asked.
Everyone spun around, looking, but the room was empty. One of the security officers swore and everyone made a mad dash for the door.
“She can’t get out! She can’t get out!”
They found Tanya wheezing two hallways down, propped against a wall. The woman fell to her side, grinning at the circling team of people.
“You don’t got me now, you pricks. You don’t got me ever.”
Tanya’s infected lungs exhaled once more and she died. One of the security officers looked to Doctor Sorrow.
“Will, will she turn?”
Sorrow didn’t look down at the woman, but instead at the vent grate next to her head, wondering whether whatever had just happened was now airborne. Imagining all the tunnels and ducts that interconnected the entire facility and led to outside. They were never supposed to leave their rooms-the hallways weren’t secured for contamination. Sorrow imagined once more the ducts connecting out to the free air outside. It was a windy day.
Barricades and lines. Checkpoints and guards. The citizens moved forward slowly one at a time, lit up by the football field lights in the dark night, and checked by two different doctors. Police and soldiers glared out at anyone that even fidgeted too much. Once the person was checked for bite marks and exhaled into a device that looked like a breathalyzer, they would either be escorted to the brick school building or taken to a set of waiting buses.
Raf hated the wait, tapping his foot in place as everyone inched forward. Hopefully he would get processed and put on a bus to get out of here soon. The Quarantine Zone was going to be safe, the soldiers said. He looked around, only spotting people his age but not recognizing anyone. That’s what he got for dropping out of society after graduating high school. He watched his surrounding, never really letting his guard down. Yeah, he was a little paranoid—the Zeeks couldn’t get all the way to the school this fast could they? But still, he wasn’t going to be as relaxed as half these young-adults, laughing and shoving each other. Some of them were serious, the level-headed down-to-Earth sort of people, but those were far and few. Too many of them were confident in their ignorance, thinking because they had been safe until now, everything would be okay. Had they watched the news—well, up to when TV stopped working they would have seen over four billion infected or dead, and that had been eight days ago. Now, it could be six billion—or more.
Officers and soldiers alike constantly monitored walkie chatter from guards posted on the perimeters of the school grounds. Men holding assault rifles and .45 caliber pistols walked in patrols through the crowds while an organizer gave out information over a megaphone.
The neighboring towns in the valley have been evacuated. There is no threat of an attack. There are no Zeeks in the valley. Please line up based on age as we will escort you to the Quarantine Zone via the buses.
The pregnant women and children up to the age of twelve already were gone. The elderly over the age of sixty had pulled out as well. Now the buses for both the middle aged and younger teens were about to head out. Men and women alike coordinated with the bus drivers, using hand gestures to point out where and when to leave. Brakes depressed and engines roared as the buses drove out of the football field, ruining the grass. All that was left was the sixteen to twenty-year-olds like Raf. Maybe a thousand civilians.
The chatter and whispering was a lot quieter now that most of the people had been evacuated to the FEMA camps that had been set up over the other side of the valley. No one had been told exactly where the camps were—it was all part of security. There had been rumors of infected civilians finding out where a camp was and breaking in, only to die, turn, and end up destroying the place from the inside out.
So fast. Turning into a Zeek. One bite and within a few moments you went into cardiac arrest and turned. It had to be within a few moments you see, because if it took a long time to turn, one Zeek could devour an entire body in under an hour. But because the turn happened so fast, the Zeek was only able to gobble down a few mouthfuls. It was probably why they were always so hungry.
The virus was gender-based. Infected women breathed out virus particles like plague-factories until they died. Anyone—men and women alike--that had breathed in the virus then died quickly turned. Others were bit, turned, and so on. A perfect chain-reaction. The World Health Organization came to the conclusion that nearly everyone carried the virus within themselves with a few people saying that there were places where the virus hadn’t hit yet and the air was clear: a few communities surrounded by mountains or far up near the North Pole. Those people would shoot anyone that came near, no matter if you were a child or the President. It was they who were the last hope for humanity. With everyone having breathed the contaminated air, it was only a matter of time before they either died of natural causes or were bitten. After that, they would become Zeeks within minutes.
This large valley—large enough for fifty-thousand people—not only had been surrounded by mountains, but also by desert, keeping thousands safe. The high elevation kept most of the wind from other cities blowing around and not through the place.
Unfortunately, the disease spread so fast. The World Health Organization never had time for a cure--the world was so completely overrun by Zeeks that half the organization was dead and the rest had no funding to research a solution.
Now with the valley being flooded by zeeks from one end, panic drove everyone to create an evacuation plan. The military came in, organizing with the police to gather everyone that was still human. They promised that they had established Quarantine Zones somewhere, safe from the spread. If they wanted to live, they all had to leave.
Raf watched as a teenage boy—probably barely sixteen—was dragged of kicking and yelling towards the school. He grimaced, knowing what would happen to the poor guy. Possible infected had to be quarantined. He moved up in the line, standing next to a police officer who eyeballed him up and down. The man was spinning a fireaxe between his hands. Raf stared him back, not really feeling intimidated. The officer opened his mouth to say something to him but stopped when his walkie went off.
Possible movement in Quadrant Four. West side.
The officer pressed the walkie button. “The Zeeks were reportedly coming in and infecting from the edge of the East side of the valley, fourty-five miles away. Are you sure you’re seeing movement on the West side, I mean we’re right up against the edge of the mountain here Jackson.”
Not sure yet. Maybe a stray Zeek walked around the mountain from the North side? Don’t know yet. We’re setting a couple of police dogs loose to explore out there. They’ll let us know if anything’s up.
“Alright.” the officer drowled. “I’ll check up on you in a few minutes.”
The man looked back at Raf. “You seem tense kid.”
“Just ready.” Raf said back quietly.
“Ready for what? To leave? Or to be attacked? You scared the Zeeks are gonna get you?” the officer teased with a smile.
Raf shrugged, feeling uneasy. “You never know what could happen.”
“Kid, you know how fast the Zeeks move? They’re on the opposite end of the valley. It’d take them days to get here.”
“But they never stop or slow down is what I heard on the news.” Raf argued back.
“We had almost no relevant information on the news about these things. Half of it was rumor and the other was speculation. You can’t trust what they had to say.” the officer argued.
Raf shook his head, scoffing as he stepped forward, the line progressing. The officer laughed and followed him.
“You know what kid, after this I plan on finding my family at the Quarantine Zone and grilling up some burgers if I can. I swear, I could make the best sliders in the neighborhood. Too bad everyone had to leave almost all their belongings at home right? I tell you what, if you find me after we’ve all been transferred out of here, I’ll grill you up a patty.”
Raf walked up to the checkpoint where two nurses and a soldier waited for him, the officer following behind.
“Please state your name, any relatives that have passed ahead of you, and remove your shirt so we can inspect you for bites.” one of the nurses said. In the background, Raf paid attention to the officer while he took off his shirt.
The officer had grabbed his walkie. “Hey Jackson, anything from the dogs?”
No, not yet. They haven’t barked or made any noise. They’re not coming back either, which is weird. Wait, hold on. Michael, is that the dogs there? I see movement. No, over there. What are you talking about? Movement over there as well? I don’t see anything. Wait… HOLY! Open Fire! Open fire! They’re everywhere! There’s a whole parade! There’s thousands of them!
The police officer dropped his walkie, face going pale. Raf stopped mid-way through taking his shirt off, feeling his heart skip a beat. What had he just heard?
Suddenly, gunfire erupted from one end of the field. The chugging of dozens of machine guns and screams of soldiers.
“ZEEKS!”
Coming out of the dark, revealed by the lights in the football field, appeared what had to have been at least five-thousand corpses. At first they could have passed for a crowd of drunks or disorderlies. Until you noticed their blood-soaked mouths, their stained torn clothes, their missing limbs, heard the screeches coming from their half-open mouths, teeth clacking—and oh gosh the smell—a thick rich sickly-sweet rot that made you gag. Thousands of clawed arms reached out like a forest of limbs.
The crowd went stupid. Soldiers and police officers pushed forward, drawing their weapons and firing madly, eyes wide with primal fear. Civilians shoved each other down, trampling limbs and faces as they sprinted towards the buses. Raf yanked his shirt back down and looked around wildly, feeling bile churn in his throat. He was going to die! He was going to die here along with everyone else!
Quite a few tried running to the opposite end of the field but were met head-on by another massive group of zeeks. Screaming, they were drowned in a pile of gnashing teeth and blood-caked fingers. The football field was surrounded.
A few civilians—guys and girls the same age as Raf—picked up weapons from fallen soldiers and officers and fired. One missed a zeek and shot two rounds through the throat of some sobbing brunette. One guy turned the gun on himself and popped open his own skullcap.
Death and dying! The noise and the smell… it was going to suffocate him!
A bus started up, closing the doors right as a bunch of frantic people tried to get on. The bus was only halfway full but the guys inside weren’t letting anyone in. They all pushed gun barrels out of the bus windows, screaming for people to get out of the way. The zeeks caught up to them, surrounding the vehicle, dragging down the guys and girls that had been pounding on the doors. The bus lurched forward—intending to peel out of the football field—but came to a sliding halt as the tires caught on the bodies piled in front of the bumper.
The tires turned in place, churning blood and intestines before exploding with a pop as they tore open on bones. Gunfire erupted from all the civilians inside the bus as the zeeks piled up against the windows and doors, a few managing to get on top of the hood. More and more collected against the windshield glass, pressing down. Someone wasn’t thinking right—did something stupid. A round flew through the windshield, shattering it and sending the dozen or so zeeks on the hood of the bus tumbling inside. Blood stained the seats as zeeks had their way with the flailing victims.
The two soldiers, the nurse, and the cop that had been tagging along next to Raf grouped together near the checkpoint booth and fired machine-gun and pistol rounds into the crowd of the dead. Raf covered his ears and took a step back, slipping and landing on his butt. Afraid, he was so damn afraid!
The zeeks were completely around them now, surrounding from all sides, preventing anyone from leaving. They intermingled with the dying civilians, not only at the edges of the field anymore but almost at the center. The people that weren’t completely eaten were already starting to turn. Some crawling and ripping at legs while the unsuspecting victims were too busy looking at eye-level.
One zeek—a burly-looking man with a flannel shirt and large blood-caked beard, pushed out of the surging crowd and stared right at Raf, taking a long step forward. Raf tried standing up couldn’t, his bowels were clenching and his arms felt cold. The zeek came closer and Raf was able to make out more detail. Little strips of glinting flesh and skin hung from the man’s beard, evidence of a recent kill. One of the man’s eyes had been gouged out, maybe by a desperate hand in the last moments of life. The zeek’s teeth seemed almost to jut out as if excited to bite.
It was just so hungry.
Raf pushed himself backwards, closer to the checkpoint booth, mouth opening in a silent scream. This was terror. This was death. Why couldn’t he get up and fight? Was he just going to sit there, crying? Pathetic. What a stupid way to go. Why couldn’t he be strong?
Something whizzed into the zeek’s forehead; a wet cracking sound going off. The monster crumpled. The police officer was suddenly next to him, shoving his fireaxe into his arms.
“Here! Fight back! Don’t let it get to you! Fight back!” he was yelling in his face.
Raf felt his fingers wrap around the wooden handle as if in autopilot, obeying the officer. The man yanked Raf to his feet and turned around. One of the checkpoint soldiers had gone down with a scream. A zeek—missing both its legs—had attacked the man’s calf. The soldier landed on his back, his gun spinning out of his hands as the zeek crawled up his body. It plunged a hand full of long, broken, jagged nails into the man’s exposed soft belly-flesh. A fountain of dark blood flowed out like black flower petals, opening with a splat. The other soldier shot the two struggling forms and turned back to firing at the crowd, his eyes glazed and his facial muscles relaxed. At first Raf thought the soldier was just tough, acting calm. But then he noticed the piss running down the man’s legs. His face was relaxed because he was in shock. The man was gone, hiding deep within himself. The soldier—with an almost relaxed gait—walked off into the crown, dropping his empty gun to the side. He was silently disemboweled three steps later.
The nurse was gone as well, Raf had no idea if she had tried to run or had been killed. He was back-to-back with the officer, clenching the axe handle so tight his palms felt like they were on fire. The officer reloaded, throwing his empty clip in disgust at an incoming zeek. Where were the civilians? It didn’t look like there was anyone around them. No one was fighting anymore. The gunshots were more sporadic and less frequent. Had anyone escaped? No, the field was surrounded on every side. There were so many zeeks--more now, actually. A few groups were still trying to claim the buses, some firing through windows.
One bus started up and shot forward, trying to dodge the collecting swarms of the dead. It spun in a circle, nearly rolling, and made a beeline somewhat towards Raf’s direction. Another bus turned on and tried driving forward as well. Raf could see zeeks inside the vehicle and civilians trying desperately to fight them off with their fists—weaponless. The driver was panicking, screaming as a zeek wrapped its hands around his neck. The infested bus swerved, turning towards the first bus. They were going to collide right in front of the checkpoint!
Right as the first bus was about to pass Raf and the officer—Raf could see fearful faces staring out, making eye contact—the second bus slammed into it, hitting it from the side. There was a tremendous metal-on-metal crashing and grating. Glass shattered. A few zeeks were obliterated. Raf and the officer fell to the grass, the checkpoint booth crumpled like paper in the violent crash.
He had dropped his axe! His axe! Raf’s head swirled as he clambered to his knees, his fingertip coming into contact with something wooden. The handle! He picked up the axe and stood, feeling a small trickle of blood running down his head. The front of the second bus was caved in, blood splattered across the twisted metal like a macabre paintjob. Everyone inside the second bus was dead. The first bus though—the side was bent inwards but there was still movement. The people inside were alive! Guns popped out of open windows and flashed out, bullets spraying the grass and squirming bodies.
There was a scream behind him and Raf spun around. The officer had three zeeks on top of him, their mouths coming down…
Fight back. Don’t let it get to you. Fight back.
His hands tightened around the axe and he shot forward. He was going to die here. He knew it. He was going to be torn apart, his body chewed up into small morsels and swallowed, sliding down corroded throats into black, slimy bellies. But he was going to die swinging.
Don’t let it get to you.
He swung at the first zeek on top of the officer’s exposed broken arm, the sharp bit biting down deep into the monster’s head.
The news had said go for the head. Stop the nervous system. Don’t trust the news, they were filled with rumors and speculation. Trust the news. Fight back, don’t let it get to you.
He pried the axe out of the first zeek, blood arching up. His heart felt like it had stopped, his muscles were all clenched at once, his face felt flushed and yet cold. He swung at the second zeek, splitting its face down the middle. He turned and kicked the third zeek off of the officer’s throat and stomped forward. He brought the axe down and missed, yanked it up, and brought it down again. It hit the zeek’s neck, sinking down to bone. He was screaming, his teeth bared. This was how he was going to die. He brought the axe down again and the bone gave way, the zeek’s head bouncing off into the dark.
A zeek appeared right in his face but fell back, a spray of bullets blowing chunks out of it. Raf dropped the axe and crouched, covering his head. The people on the bus were saving him! He reached out and grabbed his weapon, crawling to the officer who lay drowning in his own blood.
The man’s eyes were wild, looking every which way, until they found Raf. He stopped and his mouth opened and closed. Pale purple and pink strands of intestine surrounded him like slack rope and Raf could see something pulsing inside of the torn abdomen. He retched to the side. The officer’s twitching arm shot forward and grabbed Raf’s bisep. Raf looked at the officer and knew–knew what the man wanted. But he couldn’t! No! He couldn’t do it!
The officer’s mouth opened. Don’t let it get to you. Fight back.
Raf clenched his teeth, sobs raking his body, and nodded. The officer dropped his arm. Raf stood and brought the axe up. The officer was saying something.
Grilling those burgers. The best damn sliders in the neighborhood.
Raf swung and the blade connected with the officer’s forehead. Raf howled out and yanked the weapon free, tears blurring his vision as he staggered away. Bullets buzzed past him angrily. It was him and the people on the bus. Everyone else was dead. The zeeks were closing in, forming walls. Arms reached out, so greedy…
Raf cleared his eyes and found himself in front of the bus doors. They opened and a guy his age, short black-colored hair, was screaming at him at the top of his lungs.
“Get in the bus, you dope!”
Raf wanted to tell him something. Something about barbeques and news reports, but instead climbed up the steps. The bus doors closed behind him and the boy in the driver’s seat turned and looked to the back of the bus.
“Can we yank ourselves free?” he yelled.
Raf looked at the back of the bus as well. There was maybe a dozen people. One boy lay in a girl’s lap, unconscious as blood stained his face. A Hispanic-looking kid with gages pointed a pistol at the unconscious guy, arguing with half the bus.
“He might turn!” he was screaming.
Two twins were rapid firing machine guns through the bus windows. They pulled their guns in and one twin threw his gun to the other. He examined the large section of bus-wall that was caved-in. Seats were crushed into each other and glass littered the isle. The twin kicked at a piece of metal, turned, and yanked the gun out of the Hispanic-guy’s hands. He shoved the guy back and looked up to the driver.
“Does it matter if we can? Drive!”
The people on the bus noticed Raf, their eyes wide. He looked down at himself. He was covered head-to-toe in blood and gore, still holding a dripping-red axe in one hand. He must look like a savage.
The driver slammed his foot on the gas pedal and the bus jumped forward then slowed almost to a stop. It slowly peeled away from the other bus, metal screeching out in protest. But then they were free and the bus shook as they slammed into the wall of zeeks. Raf tackled the steering wheel as it slipped from the driver’s hands and the two worked together to gain control of the bus as it shuddered and skidded across the zeek-infested field. Everyone was yelling, half of them with their eyes shut. The driver pushed down on the pedal even harder, even though it was as far down as it could be. With one final slam—a body hitting the hood—they broke free of the field and the bus screamed in an impossible turn, trying to stay upright as it left the grass and made contact with the road. All four wheels touched asphalt and off they went, heading the only way they could—deeper into the valley.
The driver took a moment to catch his breath, chest heaving in and out, eyes wild. He looked up from his seat to Raf who hung onto a rail.
“The valley—it’s got zeeks coming in from both sides. We’re stuck here.”
Raf nodded, his mind trying to work, trying to peel away from what had just happened. He… he was alive! What had the driver said? Stuck, they were stuck in the valley. His mind came to another conclusion—they had no idea where the Quarantine Zone was.
“I don’t know what to do next. Where do we go?” the driver asked. Raf didn’t know if the question was directed to him, but he answered anyways.
“As deep into the valley as we can go.”
The driver nodded, licking his lips, his face pale. He rubbed a skinny hand across his black hair. “What just happened… I—I…”
Raf grabbed the guy’s shoulder, looking down at his axe and thinking about what the police officer had said. “Don’t let it get to you. Fight back.”
