Here Lies: No One [02]
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Chapter 2: A Violent Design
-Zeeks. Human monsters, monstrous humans—words spoken by the faithless! We must not kill them! We must expel the demons within them and return them to our flock! Embrace them! Show them love and kindness and we will right the world of evil!-
-final words from a pastor before the pianist bit him across the neck
A line of blood was running down the bus windshield. It danced its way to the bottom of the glass, leaving a red track. It was thick—thicker than normal blood. Zeek blood coagulated faster.
Someone was crying quietly in the back, making small noises that were almost completely muffled by the screeching and rumbling of the bus. It wasn’t a regular vehicle sound either, but an indication that the bus was begging to stop before it fell apart or split in half. They slowly drove around a tipped-over trailer, its contents strewn around the road from shattered windows. There was nothing of value; looters had raided all of the expensive stuff. Why someone would want an Xbox when there wasn’t even any power left in the valley was a mystery. A glow appeared at the end of the dark road, bathing the edge of a brick building with yellow dancing light. It was coming from around the corner but Raf still knew what it was by the way it caused the shadows to spin and shake. A fire.
The driver grunted in annoyance. “If that’s fire, we have to go down another street. Won’t the zeeks be drawn to the light and sound?”
Raf shook his head. “No keep going, there’s no way we can pull a u-turn on this street with the bus. Plus, the deeper in the valley we go, the less chance there’ll be for running into zeeks. The place was evacuated. There would have been teams from Homeland, SWAT, and whatever else clearing everyone out. It’s how my family was brought to the school field.”
Raf instantly regretted saying the word ‘family’. Family was something he couldn’t afford to think about right now, much less mention to everyone else. He cringed, hoping the other buses had made it to the elusive Quarantine Zone. It got him thinking. How were they going to find the location of the Q.Z.?
“What about other people? Looters and the ones that hid in their houses?” the driver asked, pulling Raf from his thoughts.
Raf thought about that question. One of the last pieces he had seen on the news before the power went out had been the riots sweeping through the larger cities. Just as many people had died by the revolts as they had by the zeeks. There had been this one report done in Dallas showing everyone armed to the teeth clearing out streets; huge mobs breaking into malls and stealing valuables, food, and medication. Whoever didn’t join the mob either hid or had no protection from the zeeks. The creatures were all being held back by the swarm of armed looters but because the rioting became so violent, a few civilians were killed by infighting. Suddenly they were reanimated, zeeks were appearing in the center of the secured groups. That didn’t turn out so well for the looters.
“Well,” Raf replied to the driver’s question. “if we do run into anyone, we play it cautious.”
The driver smirked, then tipped his head back to the end of the bus. “And them? What if one of them is a psycho?”
Before Raf could reply, the driver slowed the bus down, staring intently out the windshield as they turned the corner and came across the light source. “Yikes.” they both hissed. The people in the back of the bus looked out their windows as well.
It was military. Or to put it more accurately, it had been military. A tank, flames still pouring from its opening at the top, was pock-marked with bullets and blood, a brick wall partially collapsed across its front. Slag—melting asphalt—formed a crater where chunks of something, half vaporized, spread out. A grenade blast or shot from the tank–it was hard to tell. Two dead zeeks clogged the wheel treads on the tank, both morbidly reminding Raf of toothpaste somewhat squeezed from a container. What had to have been twelve more bodies surrounded the area. Nine were zeeks and three wore army fatigues.
The scene was easy to read. The tank must have been going down the street, escorted by foot-soldiers. Somehow a pack of zeeks must have caught them by surprise, maybe biting one of them. The tank was too close in range, struggling to maneuver. The soldiers started killing the dead but by then a couple of their own had turned. At some point it looked like they panicked, maybe spraying bullets against their own vehicle. They were overwhelmed. Raf bet the soldiers were no older than he was; maybe it had been their first assignment. What a bad way to go.
The tank must have hit the building and gotten stuck. Raf was unsure how the fire had started. The tank driver had come out and— An idea hit him.
“Stop the bus!” he commanded.
The bus driver hit the brakes in alarm. The rest of the bus occupants looked at him in confusion. “What?” the driver asked, eyes wide.
Raf reached over near the dashboard and pulled a large horizontal lever, opening the bus door. He turned to the driver. “Guns. We can loot them.”
The driver’s face turned green in the flickering light. “But they’re dead. You’re just gonna go up to them and…”
Raf nodded and looked to the others crowded in their mangled vehicle. One of the girls—probably a year younger than him— eyed him down, her face flushed with fear. “Why are we stopping? No, no, no—we got to keep moving!” she said in a panic. Raf put a hand up calmly, trying to reassure her.
“It’ll only take a moment. Everyone is going to be fine.”
The girl shook her head, face pale, but didn’t say anything else. He had expected more protest but most of the people still seemed dazed from the attack on the football field. Raf made eye contact with one of the twins he had observed earlier firing out of the windows. He was a blond-haired guy with faint freckles across his face. He was calm and collected, confidently holding the automatic rifle he had protected the bus with. The guy seemed to know what Raf was thinking and gave a shrug.
“I’ll go.” he volunteered as he walked forward down the aisle, squeezing around the crushed seats. Raf gave him a nod of thanks then turned to the driver. The driver bit his lip, hesitating, then gave a nod as well. The twin handed the dark-haired skinny driver the pistol he had taken from the other passenger. Raf gripped his axe tighter and the three looked at each other.
“If we encounter zeeks we don’t take chances. We just leave, right?” Raf said. The two guys agreed. Raf grinned.
“I’m Raf.”
“Cody.” the twin said.
“Alex.” said the driver.
The three of then cautiously stepped out of the bus, the smell of smoke and burning meat invading their nostrils. Raf almost gagged, stomach clenching. Was this a good idea? To do something like this so soon after the football field? He moved forward anyways. They needed the weapons. The more, the better.
They spread out, hearts beating in their throats as they carefully approached each corpse and kicked at them to make sure they were really dead. Raf could see Alex, the driver, heading to the far left where one soldier lay holding a combat shotgun. Cody was heading towards the tank.
Raf looked down at a corpse near his foot. It was burned to black, grey, and red; so damaged that he couldn’t even tell the gender. One of the soldiers must have had a flamethrower. He crouched in front of it, gazing at the melted face; its mouth wide open. Teeth looked huge with the lips and gums burned off. From this close he could tell it had been a woman.
What had been her name? How had she turned? Bitten? Had she died peacefully in her sleep? Had she woken up and found herself with no control of her body; mentally screaming in horror as she watched herself feast on others with a frenzied appetite? Raf felt tears coming to his eyes. He looked away and gritted his teeth. That could have been family, a close friend--it could have been him.
The cop had told him to not let it get to him, but it was! It was getting to him! He wasn’t strong, he wasn’t ready for this! He was going to sob, all of what was happening—what had happened—rising up; overwhelming his control. The whole world was decaying it wasn’t supposed to! He had college to attend! He was going to start a family! He was going to... nothing. Just… nothing. Looking at the burned body then thinking of himself, he couldn’t tell who the lucky one was.
“Hey, check it!” Cody’s voice travelled towards him. Raf wiped his face and looked up. He could see only part of the twin, who was standing partially behind a section of the tank. He stood and walked over, Alex joining the both of them.
Hiding behind the tank was another body, partially crushed by the treads. This one was different. The dead soldier was wearing some sort of alloy-metal suit that covered his arms, chest, and even the front of his face; ending in an intimidating metal mask that reminded Raf of either a skull or the head of a bird of prey. The rest of the suit must have covered his waist all the way to his feet but because the soldier was pinned under the tank, the metal was mangled and twisted, mixing bone, skin, and protection in a gory conglomeration.
“What in the world is that?” Alex asked, his face showing a mixture of confusion, disgust, and wonder.
The twin laughed, looking at both of them. “Don’t you two follow military headlines, or SWAT news, or anything like that?”
Both Raf and Alex shook their head at Cody. The twin rolled his eyes.
“Typical. You all are just a bunch of regular pansies right? Probably never fired a gun before?”
Raf was about to protest and say that yes, he had shot a gun before in scouts and had gone hunting twice, but Cody continued without pause. Alex looked like he had been about to protest as well.
“This prick was wearing a 1080-Avent! It’s the newest Homeland riot gear that just released! Hell, I didn’t even think these things were in the market yet! I bet there’s only a few of them out there! The military probably seized all the ones they could when the zeeks began to pop up.”
“1080-Avent gear?” Alex asked. Cody nodded.
“Yeah, it was designed for New Jersey riots or domestic terrorists. Who wants a bulletproof-vest when you can wear lightweight aluminum-steel alloy? Kinetic power and a computer-chip controls the gears built in, allowing the suit to form-fit around you. Are you kidding me? This one had a flippin’ flame-thrower built into the right arm-brace!”
The twin looked like he was about to dance out of his pants. He gave out a sigh and grimaced. “If I could ever have one of these… I think I’d give one of my limbs! This idiot ended up getting himself crushed and ruining the suit.”
Raf was mesmerized by the idea of the suit. A metal outfit that could protect him from zeeks or anything else—well, except for tanks apparently. Alex looked longingly at the suit as well. Cody huffed then kicked at a metal-covered arm.
“Gather anything good? Everything I found was ruined except for this bowie knife.” He presented to them a wicked looking blade.
Raf shook his head in a no but Alex showed off what he was carrying. Raf hadn’t even noticed until now. The driver held up a combat shotgun and a backpack.
“This.” the skinny guy said with a smile. “The backpack has a bunch of assorted ammo, two pistols, some water I think, and a small first-aid kit.”
“Sweet.” Cody replied with a satisfied look. He froze, face going stiff as he looked over Raf’s shoulder. Raf turned, spinning on his feet. Zeeks.
Four forms were stumbling out of the hole in the brick building. Apart from one who looked like its chest was caved in, they could have all passed for regular humans. Until they stepped into the firelight and you spotted their vacant eyes, mouth slowly opening and closing, and small smears of blood here and there. By the looks of them, they had been citizens hiding out in the building, deciding to take their chances on their own instead of heading to the school field for evacuation. It was just bad luck that a tank crashed through their wall and probably killed them all instantly.
Raf and his two companions each took a step back, tightening their grips on their weapons as the four zeeks hobbled over mounds of bricks. They could hear the people in the bus now. Someone was yelling at them to run back and drive off. Raf realized Alex had the bus keys with him. One of the zeeks—wearing a sweater and pajama pants—climbed down the mound of bricks, stepping foot onto the top of the tank. Its skin was still pink and lively-looking. It had recently turned. There was a sizzling sound as the bare flesh from a shoeless foot touched the burning hot metal, heated by the flames still pouring out of the opening. The zeek fell off the tank, collapsing on the ground, then picked itself up. The three others behind it followed suit. Alex dropped the unloaded shotgun and backpack and brought up the pistol Cody had handed to him on the bus. He pulled the trigger, firing a shot in the direction of the dead. The noise from the gun was loud, very loud and the bullet whizzed off into the dark, never coming close to its targets. Alex swore.
Cody put his hand on Alex’s shoulder. “Wait!” the twin said, eyes narrowed.
“Pistols suck at accuracy. You want them a lot closer before you fire.”
“Are you kidding me?” Raf said, fear making his heart pound faster. He could see Alex’s arms shaking as the zeeks came closer. “Fire at them!”
“No!” Cody said, holding up a hand. “Wait.”
“Cody, use your rifle!”
The twin shook his head, looking at the skinny driver holding his pistol. “You’ve killed them, I’ve killed them. Now it’s his turn.”
“This isn’t a game where people take turns killing the bad guys!” Raf hissed, both Alex and him taking a step back from the approaching dead. The people in the bus were clamoring now.
“He has to do it!” Cody said furiously, eyes glinting. “He has to if he wants to live!”
Alex fired the pistol again. The bullet pinged off of the tank, ricocheting into the brick pile. Cody watched the driver with laser-focused eyes. Raf gripped his axe with both hands so tight he imagined the wood splintering. The zeeks came closer. The one with the caved-in chest was now only ten feet away. It was a balding shirtless man, the few strands of hair he had jutted up in a tangled mess. It brushed up against a section of the tank. A jagged piece of metal bit deep into its stomach. Blood, almost as if it had been collecting in the spot, burst out, running down his legs. The zeek walked forward regardless, oblivious to the damage it was sustaining. Skin and muscle peeled away and gray rubbery intestines began to spill out in slow wet strands, hanging down across its front.
Alex fired again and the zeek jolted as the bullet hit its arm. “Good.” Cody said calmly, his voice soft and almost like a teacher giving a lecture.
“Aim up a little higher and to the left.”
Alex readjusted his aim, the zeek now only five feet away. The dark-haired skinny guy was sweating, eyes wide and pupils dilated. Both Raf and him were breathing heavily. Alex fired again.
The zeek stopped, its legs giving out as a little splatter of red came from its head. It dropped, landing on its insides. It didn’t move. Alex let out a whimper, looking as if he was trying to hold in a scream. He fired again. Missed. The three zeeks drew closer. Fire. One of them dropped.
“Yes! That’s how you do it!” Cody said, encouragingly.
Alex fired again and hit the third zeek—an old woman—across the cheek, splinted bone and cartilage spraying out. But she kept coming. He fired his last shot and the elderly female dropped. He continued to pull the trigger at the final dead creature, empty clicks sounding out. The zeek, a younger woman sticking out her jaw almost comically, was looking directly into the driver’s eyes. Alex froze, gun still aiming at it. The zeek was right there now; right in his face!
Cody was a blur. He reached his arm out and yanked Alex back. Pulling out the bowie knife he had found, he darted forward, dodging around the zeek’s flaying arms, and stabbed it square behind the ear. He pulled the blade back out and the monster dropped. The three of them were quiet for a long time, all of their bodies tense.
“Thanks.” Alex whispered.
Cody shrugged. “You ran out of bullets, is all.”
“No. Not for that. For giving me a chance to do it. I… I had to.”
The two of them looked at each other and Alex gave a nod. Cody smiled. “You’re still shaking like a baby but there’s potential in you yet.”
The three of them turned and walked back into the bus, Raf closing the door behind them. They were bombarded by all of the survivors, yelling at them.
What the hell was that about?
You could have died!
“Quiet down!” Raf said, head spinning. Everyone settled, looking at him. “We’re fine and we got some loot. We can go on now.”
The same girl from before that had asked them to stay in the bus walked forward. She looked furious.
“What if you had died? What then? Your guns and the bus keys would have been out there, with them.”
Cody stepped forward. “Look. The zeeks aren’t going away. Two months ago, the government said there was a small pandemic going around and it’d be cleared up in days. Now look what’s happened. We don’t even have a government anymore. The zeeks. Aren’t. Going. Away. We have to get used to killing them or we end up one of them!”
The girl opened and closed her mouth, then let out a huff. She stepped back, going silent. She didn’t move for a while as everyone on the bus watched her. She finally looked over to Cody.
“The next time you go out, I’m going with you.”
Cody grinned. “Good.”
It was then that Raf realized—looking at each person around him—they were all no older than him. Young, we’re all so young. He looked to Alex.
“Start the bus. We have to get out of here before the noise we just made draws more zeeks to us.”
Alex nodded and climbed back into the driver’s seat. Everyone sat down. A girl waved to him, catching his eye.
“Where are we going?” she asked.
“I’d like to know that myself.” Alex added, also looking to Raf.
The valley was surrounded by packs of zeeks on all sides. Until they could find the Quarantine Zone or settle down somewhere and get a better sense for their situation, they needed to bunker down somewhere safe. Maybe the center of the valley somewhere.
He pictured the familiar city layouts in his mind. There was a gated community somewhere near the middle of the valley, Raf believed. That could probably work for now. He looked at Alex and gave him directions on where to drive. Alex turned the bus on, the engine sputtering into life weakly. If they were lucky, the bus wouldn’t give out on them before they got to their destination. As they took off, Raf crouched next to Alex. Even though he didn’t know the guy from Adam, he had taken a liking to him. He seemed sincere.
“The twin, Cody—what do you think of him?” he asked.
Alex turned and looked at him briefly, then went back to watching the road. They drove past the fiery ruins of the tank, the mangled remains of the 1080-Avent suit, and the bodies; dodging around parked cars and garbage.
“He knows how to fight. How to kill. But he doesn’t seem like a bad person.”
Raf nodded. “I get the same feeling. But he doesn’t seem scared or fazed by this at all.”
Alex shrugged. “Some people turned out that way after the zeeks began to show up. They just bottled their fear deep down. Really deep down. They stayed solid on the outside. Strong.”
Raf reflected on what Alex had said and realized it sounded very similar to what that cop had told him back at the school. He knew he wasn’t there yet: strong, confident, or a powerful fighter. But he could become one, couldn’t he? His mind pictured a zeek face reaching out to him, mouth opening wider and wider. He shuddered, then forced himself to stop and instead focused on the road.
Because of so much stuff clogging the streets, a drive that could have been thirty minutes long took over an hour. Raf finally spotted the broken gray gates of the rich neighborhood he had directed them to. They looked like as if someone had driven right through them, rubber marks on the road leading towards the packed freeway.
It was a nice place: gated, huge houses, and large driveways. Although the neighborhood had a wall surrounding it, Raf knew the area had at least five large entrances. It was safe, but far from a perfect shelter.
“How did you know to come here? Did you live here?” Alex asked, clearly impressed with the expensive homes.
“No. My boss did.” he answered.
“Where did you work?” Alex asked, gazing out at the view.
“I was a secretary at a community college.” Raf replied, remembering long days of imputing documents into the computer.
“That’s not too bad. Was that the college you were attending? What, you have to be eighteen? Nineteen?”
“Never started college.” Raf sighed, thinking about how his life had been turning out. The path of where he would go to next; obscure and mysterious. Full of doubt. Alex looked like he was about to ask another question when they were interrupted.
There was stirring in the back of the bus; Raf caught the movement with the edge of his peripherals. He stood, grabbing his axe and pushed through the crowd as Cody–who’d noticed the same movement—pulled out his still blood-covered knife. Raf had completely forgotten about the unconscious guy in the back of the bus. Had he died and turned?
When they got to him, the boy was pushing himself up to a sitting position, blood crusting the side of his long hay-colored hair. He let out a groan and pulled his hair out of his face, revealing two pale blue eyes. Alive, not a zeek.
“The zeeks—they were attacking. What happened?”
Raf answered before anyone else. “You’re safe for now. We’re just arriving at a gated community. The school was overrun.”
The boy looked up to Raf. “We got away?”
“We were the only ones.” Cody answered. “Bad news for you: we have no idea where the Quarantine Zone is. You don’t happen to know that yourself?”
The boy shook his head, turning to Raf. “I’m Paul.”
“Raf.”
They shook hands. Raf helped him to a seat. The boy eyed his blood-covered axe and clothes. “You in charge?”
The question took Raf by surprise. He looked around. Everyone was watching his and Paul’s conversation except for Alex, who was navigating the bus through the community gates. He looked back to Paul.
“I don’t know.”
-final words from a pastor before the pianist bit him across the neck
A line of blood was running down the bus windshield. It danced its way to the bottom of the glass, leaving a red track. It was thick—thicker than normal blood. Zeek blood coagulated faster.
Someone was crying quietly in the back, making small noises that were almost completely muffled by the screeching and rumbling of the bus. It wasn’t a regular vehicle sound either, but an indication that the bus was begging to stop before it fell apart or split in half. They slowly drove around a tipped-over trailer, its contents strewn around the road from shattered windows. There was nothing of value; looters had raided all of the expensive stuff. Why someone would want an Xbox when there wasn’t even any power left in the valley was a mystery. A glow appeared at the end of the dark road, bathing the edge of a brick building with yellow dancing light. It was coming from around the corner but Raf still knew what it was by the way it caused the shadows to spin and shake. A fire.
The driver grunted in annoyance. “If that’s fire, we have to go down another street. Won’t the zeeks be drawn to the light and sound?”
Raf shook his head. “No keep going, there’s no way we can pull a u-turn on this street with the bus. Plus, the deeper in the valley we go, the less chance there’ll be for running into zeeks. The place was evacuated. There would have been teams from Homeland, SWAT, and whatever else clearing everyone out. It’s how my family was brought to the school field.”
Raf instantly regretted saying the word ‘family’. Family was something he couldn’t afford to think about right now, much less mention to everyone else. He cringed, hoping the other buses had made it to the elusive Quarantine Zone. It got him thinking. How were they going to find the location of the Q.Z.?
“What about other people? Looters and the ones that hid in their houses?” the driver asked, pulling Raf from his thoughts.
Raf thought about that question. One of the last pieces he had seen on the news before the power went out had been the riots sweeping through the larger cities. Just as many people had died by the revolts as they had by the zeeks. There had been this one report done in Dallas showing everyone armed to the teeth clearing out streets; huge mobs breaking into malls and stealing valuables, food, and medication. Whoever didn’t join the mob either hid or had no protection from the zeeks. The creatures were all being held back by the swarm of armed looters but because the rioting became so violent, a few civilians were killed by infighting. Suddenly they were reanimated, zeeks were appearing in the center of the secured groups. That didn’t turn out so well for the looters.
“Well,” Raf replied to the driver’s question. “if we do run into anyone, we play it cautious.”
The driver smirked, then tipped his head back to the end of the bus. “And them? What if one of them is a psycho?”
Before Raf could reply, the driver slowed the bus down, staring intently out the windshield as they turned the corner and came across the light source. “Yikes.” they both hissed. The people in the back of the bus looked out their windows as well.
It was military. Or to put it more accurately, it had been military. A tank, flames still pouring from its opening at the top, was pock-marked with bullets and blood, a brick wall partially collapsed across its front. Slag—melting asphalt—formed a crater where chunks of something, half vaporized, spread out. A grenade blast or shot from the tank–it was hard to tell. Two dead zeeks clogged the wheel treads on the tank, both morbidly reminding Raf of toothpaste somewhat squeezed from a container. What had to have been twelve more bodies surrounded the area. Nine were zeeks and three wore army fatigues.
The scene was easy to read. The tank must have been going down the street, escorted by foot-soldiers. Somehow a pack of zeeks must have caught them by surprise, maybe biting one of them. The tank was too close in range, struggling to maneuver. The soldiers started killing the dead but by then a couple of their own had turned. At some point it looked like they panicked, maybe spraying bullets against their own vehicle. They were overwhelmed. Raf bet the soldiers were no older than he was; maybe it had been their first assignment. What a bad way to go.
The tank must have hit the building and gotten stuck. Raf was unsure how the fire had started. The tank driver had come out and— An idea hit him.
“Stop the bus!” he commanded.
The bus driver hit the brakes in alarm. The rest of the bus occupants looked at him in confusion. “What?” the driver asked, eyes wide.
Raf reached over near the dashboard and pulled a large horizontal lever, opening the bus door. He turned to the driver. “Guns. We can loot them.”
The driver’s face turned green in the flickering light. “But they’re dead. You’re just gonna go up to them and…”
Raf nodded and looked to the others crowded in their mangled vehicle. One of the girls—probably a year younger than him— eyed him down, her face flushed with fear. “Why are we stopping? No, no, no—we got to keep moving!” she said in a panic. Raf put a hand up calmly, trying to reassure her.
“It’ll only take a moment. Everyone is going to be fine.”
The girl shook her head, face pale, but didn’t say anything else. He had expected more protest but most of the people still seemed dazed from the attack on the football field. Raf made eye contact with one of the twins he had observed earlier firing out of the windows. He was a blond-haired guy with faint freckles across his face. He was calm and collected, confidently holding the automatic rifle he had protected the bus with. The guy seemed to know what Raf was thinking and gave a shrug.
“I’ll go.” he volunteered as he walked forward down the aisle, squeezing around the crushed seats. Raf gave him a nod of thanks then turned to the driver. The driver bit his lip, hesitating, then gave a nod as well. The twin handed the dark-haired skinny driver the pistol he had taken from the other passenger. Raf gripped his axe tighter and the three looked at each other.
“If we encounter zeeks we don’t take chances. We just leave, right?” Raf said. The two guys agreed. Raf grinned.
“I’m Raf.”
“Cody.” the twin said.
“Alex.” said the driver.
The three of then cautiously stepped out of the bus, the smell of smoke and burning meat invading their nostrils. Raf almost gagged, stomach clenching. Was this a good idea? To do something like this so soon after the football field? He moved forward anyways. They needed the weapons. The more, the better.
They spread out, hearts beating in their throats as they carefully approached each corpse and kicked at them to make sure they were really dead. Raf could see Alex, the driver, heading to the far left where one soldier lay holding a combat shotgun. Cody was heading towards the tank.
Raf looked down at a corpse near his foot. It was burned to black, grey, and red; so damaged that he couldn’t even tell the gender. One of the soldiers must have had a flamethrower. He crouched in front of it, gazing at the melted face; its mouth wide open. Teeth looked huge with the lips and gums burned off. From this close he could tell it had been a woman.
What had been her name? How had she turned? Bitten? Had she died peacefully in her sleep? Had she woken up and found herself with no control of her body; mentally screaming in horror as she watched herself feast on others with a frenzied appetite? Raf felt tears coming to his eyes. He looked away and gritted his teeth. That could have been family, a close friend--it could have been him.
The cop had told him to not let it get to him, but it was! It was getting to him! He wasn’t strong, he wasn’t ready for this! He was going to sob, all of what was happening—what had happened—rising up; overwhelming his control. The whole world was decaying it wasn’t supposed to! He had college to attend! He was going to start a family! He was going to... nothing. Just… nothing. Looking at the burned body then thinking of himself, he couldn’t tell who the lucky one was.
“Hey, check it!” Cody’s voice travelled towards him. Raf wiped his face and looked up. He could see only part of the twin, who was standing partially behind a section of the tank. He stood and walked over, Alex joining the both of them.
Hiding behind the tank was another body, partially crushed by the treads. This one was different. The dead soldier was wearing some sort of alloy-metal suit that covered his arms, chest, and even the front of his face; ending in an intimidating metal mask that reminded Raf of either a skull or the head of a bird of prey. The rest of the suit must have covered his waist all the way to his feet but because the soldier was pinned under the tank, the metal was mangled and twisted, mixing bone, skin, and protection in a gory conglomeration.
“What in the world is that?” Alex asked, his face showing a mixture of confusion, disgust, and wonder.
The twin laughed, looking at both of them. “Don’t you two follow military headlines, or SWAT news, or anything like that?”
Both Raf and Alex shook their head at Cody. The twin rolled his eyes.
“Typical. You all are just a bunch of regular pansies right? Probably never fired a gun before?”
Raf was about to protest and say that yes, he had shot a gun before in scouts and had gone hunting twice, but Cody continued without pause. Alex looked like he had been about to protest as well.
“This prick was wearing a 1080-Avent! It’s the newest Homeland riot gear that just released! Hell, I didn’t even think these things were in the market yet! I bet there’s only a few of them out there! The military probably seized all the ones they could when the zeeks began to pop up.”
“1080-Avent gear?” Alex asked. Cody nodded.
“Yeah, it was designed for New Jersey riots or domestic terrorists. Who wants a bulletproof-vest when you can wear lightweight aluminum-steel alloy? Kinetic power and a computer-chip controls the gears built in, allowing the suit to form-fit around you. Are you kidding me? This one had a flippin’ flame-thrower built into the right arm-brace!”
The twin looked like he was about to dance out of his pants. He gave out a sigh and grimaced. “If I could ever have one of these… I think I’d give one of my limbs! This idiot ended up getting himself crushed and ruining the suit.”
Raf was mesmerized by the idea of the suit. A metal outfit that could protect him from zeeks or anything else—well, except for tanks apparently. Alex looked longingly at the suit as well. Cody huffed then kicked at a metal-covered arm.
“Gather anything good? Everything I found was ruined except for this bowie knife.” He presented to them a wicked looking blade.
Raf shook his head in a no but Alex showed off what he was carrying. Raf hadn’t even noticed until now. The driver held up a combat shotgun and a backpack.
“This.” the skinny guy said with a smile. “The backpack has a bunch of assorted ammo, two pistols, some water I think, and a small first-aid kit.”
“Sweet.” Cody replied with a satisfied look. He froze, face going stiff as he looked over Raf’s shoulder. Raf turned, spinning on his feet. Zeeks.
Four forms were stumbling out of the hole in the brick building. Apart from one who looked like its chest was caved in, they could have all passed for regular humans. Until they stepped into the firelight and you spotted their vacant eyes, mouth slowly opening and closing, and small smears of blood here and there. By the looks of them, they had been citizens hiding out in the building, deciding to take their chances on their own instead of heading to the school field for evacuation. It was just bad luck that a tank crashed through their wall and probably killed them all instantly.
Raf and his two companions each took a step back, tightening their grips on their weapons as the four zeeks hobbled over mounds of bricks. They could hear the people in the bus now. Someone was yelling at them to run back and drive off. Raf realized Alex had the bus keys with him. One of the zeeks—wearing a sweater and pajama pants—climbed down the mound of bricks, stepping foot onto the top of the tank. Its skin was still pink and lively-looking. It had recently turned. There was a sizzling sound as the bare flesh from a shoeless foot touched the burning hot metal, heated by the flames still pouring out of the opening. The zeek fell off the tank, collapsing on the ground, then picked itself up. The three others behind it followed suit. Alex dropped the unloaded shotgun and backpack and brought up the pistol Cody had handed to him on the bus. He pulled the trigger, firing a shot in the direction of the dead. The noise from the gun was loud, very loud and the bullet whizzed off into the dark, never coming close to its targets. Alex swore.
Cody put his hand on Alex’s shoulder. “Wait!” the twin said, eyes narrowed.
“Pistols suck at accuracy. You want them a lot closer before you fire.”
“Are you kidding me?” Raf said, fear making his heart pound faster. He could see Alex’s arms shaking as the zeeks came closer. “Fire at them!”
“No!” Cody said, holding up a hand. “Wait.”
“Cody, use your rifle!”
The twin shook his head, looking at the skinny driver holding his pistol. “You’ve killed them, I’ve killed them. Now it’s his turn.”
“This isn’t a game where people take turns killing the bad guys!” Raf hissed, both Alex and him taking a step back from the approaching dead. The people in the bus were clamoring now.
“He has to do it!” Cody said furiously, eyes glinting. “He has to if he wants to live!”
Alex fired the pistol again. The bullet pinged off of the tank, ricocheting into the brick pile. Cody watched the driver with laser-focused eyes. Raf gripped his axe with both hands so tight he imagined the wood splintering. The zeeks came closer. The one with the caved-in chest was now only ten feet away. It was a balding shirtless man, the few strands of hair he had jutted up in a tangled mess. It brushed up against a section of the tank. A jagged piece of metal bit deep into its stomach. Blood, almost as if it had been collecting in the spot, burst out, running down his legs. The zeek walked forward regardless, oblivious to the damage it was sustaining. Skin and muscle peeled away and gray rubbery intestines began to spill out in slow wet strands, hanging down across its front.
Alex fired again and the zeek jolted as the bullet hit its arm. “Good.” Cody said calmly, his voice soft and almost like a teacher giving a lecture.
“Aim up a little higher and to the left.”
Alex readjusted his aim, the zeek now only five feet away. The dark-haired skinny guy was sweating, eyes wide and pupils dilated. Both Raf and him were breathing heavily. Alex fired again.
The zeek stopped, its legs giving out as a little splatter of red came from its head. It dropped, landing on its insides. It didn’t move. Alex let out a whimper, looking as if he was trying to hold in a scream. He fired again. Missed. The three zeeks drew closer. Fire. One of them dropped.
“Yes! That’s how you do it!” Cody said, encouragingly.
Alex fired again and hit the third zeek—an old woman—across the cheek, splinted bone and cartilage spraying out. But she kept coming. He fired his last shot and the elderly female dropped. He continued to pull the trigger at the final dead creature, empty clicks sounding out. The zeek, a younger woman sticking out her jaw almost comically, was looking directly into the driver’s eyes. Alex froze, gun still aiming at it. The zeek was right there now; right in his face!
Cody was a blur. He reached his arm out and yanked Alex back. Pulling out the bowie knife he had found, he darted forward, dodging around the zeek’s flaying arms, and stabbed it square behind the ear. He pulled the blade back out and the monster dropped. The three of them were quiet for a long time, all of their bodies tense.
“Thanks.” Alex whispered.
Cody shrugged. “You ran out of bullets, is all.”
“No. Not for that. For giving me a chance to do it. I… I had to.”
The two of them looked at each other and Alex gave a nod. Cody smiled. “You’re still shaking like a baby but there’s potential in you yet.”
The three of them turned and walked back into the bus, Raf closing the door behind them. They were bombarded by all of the survivors, yelling at them.
What the hell was that about?
You could have died!
“Quiet down!” Raf said, head spinning. Everyone settled, looking at him. “We’re fine and we got some loot. We can go on now.”
The same girl from before that had asked them to stay in the bus walked forward. She looked furious.
“What if you had died? What then? Your guns and the bus keys would have been out there, with them.”
Cody stepped forward. “Look. The zeeks aren’t going away. Two months ago, the government said there was a small pandemic going around and it’d be cleared up in days. Now look what’s happened. We don’t even have a government anymore. The zeeks. Aren’t. Going. Away. We have to get used to killing them or we end up one of them!”
The girl opened and closed her mouth, then let out a huff. She stepped back, going silent. She didn’t move for a while as everyone on the bus watched her. She finally looked over to Cody.
“The next time you go out, I’m going with you.”
Cody grinned. “Good.”
It was then that Raf realized—looking at each person around him—they were all no older than him. Young, we’re all so young. He looked to Alex.
“Start the bus. We have to get out of here before the noise we just made draws more zeeks to us.”
Alex nodded and climbed back into the driver’s seat. Everyone sat down. A girl waved to him, catching his eye.
“Where are we going?” she asked.
“I’d like to know that myself.” Alex added, also looking to Raf.
The valley was surrounded by packs of zeeks on all sides. Until they could find the Quarantine Zone or settle down somewhere and get a better sense for their situation, they needed to bunker down somewhere safe. Maybe the center of the valley somewhere.
He pictured the familiar city layouts in his mind. There was a gated community somewhere near the middle of the valley, Raf believed. That could probably work for now. He looked at Alex and gave him directions on where to drive. Alex turned the bus on, the engine sputtering into life weakly. If they were lucky, the bus wouldn’t give out on them before they got to their destination. As they took off, Raf crouched next to Alex. Even though he didn’t know the guy from Adam, he had taken a liking to him. He seemed sincere.
“The twin, Cody—what do you think of him?” he asked.
Alex turned and looked at him briefly, then went back to watching the road. They drove past the fiery ruins of the tank, the mangled remains of the 1080-Avent suit, and the bodies; dodging around parked cars and garbage.
“He knows how to fight. How to kill. But he doesn’t seem like a bad person.”
Raf nodded. “I get the same feeling. But he doesn’t seem scared or fazed by this at all.”
Alex shrugged. “Some people turned out that way after the zeeks began to show up. They just bottled their fear deep down. Really deep down. They stayed solid on the outside. Strong.”
Raf reflected on what Alex had said and realized it sounded very similar to what that cop had told him back at the school. He knew he wasn’t there yet: strong, confident, or a powerful fighter. But he could become one, couldn’t he? His mind pictured a zeek face reaching out to him, mouth opening wider and wider. He shuddered, then forced himself to stop and instead focused on the road.
Because of so much stuff clogging the streets, a drive that could have been thirty minutes long took over an hour. Raf finally spotted the broken gray gates of the rich neighborhood he had directed them to. They looked like as if someone had driven right through them, rubber marks on the road leading towards the packed freeway.
It was a nice place: gated, huge houses, and large driveways. Although the neighborhood had a wall surrounding it, Raf knew the area had at least five large entrances. It was safe, but far from a perfect shelter.
“How did you know to come here? Did you live here?” Alex asked, clearly impressed with the expensive homes.
“No. My boss did.” he answered.
“Where did you work?” Alex asked, gazing out at the view.
“I was a secretary at a community college.” Raf replied, remembering long days of imputing documents into the computer.
“That’s not too bad. Was that the college you were attending? What, you have to be eighteen? Nineteen?”
“Never started college.” Raf sighed, thinking about how his life had been turning out. The path of where he would go to next; obscure and mysterious. Full of doubt. Alex looked like he was about to ask another question when they were interrupted.
There was stirring in the back of the bus; Raf caught the movement with the edge of his peripherals. He stood, grabbing his axe and pushed through the crowd as Cody–who’d noticed the same movement—pulled out his still blood-covered knife. Raf had completely forgotten about the unconscious guy in the back of the bus. Had he died and turned?
When they got to him, the boy was pushing himself up to a sitting position, blood crusting the side of his long hay-colored hair. He let out a groan and pulled his hair out of his face, revealing two pale blue eyes. Alive, not a zeek.
“The zeeks—they were attacking. What happened?”
Raf answered before anyone else. “You’re safe for now. We’re just arriving at a gated community. The school was overrun.”
The boy looked up to Raf. “We got away?”
“We were the only ones.” Cody answered. “Bad news for you: we have no idea where the Quarantine Zone is. You don’t happen to know that yourself?”
The boy shook his head, turning to Raf. “I’m Paul.”
“Raf.”
They shook hands. Raf helped him to a seat. The boy eyed his blood-covered axe and clothes. “You in charge?”
The question took Raf by surprise. He looked around. Everyone was watching his and Paul’s conversation except for Alex, who was navigating the bus through the community gates. He looked back to Paul.
“I don’t know.”
