Chapter 18

Chapter 18

   Tom hopped out of the cab; he held his rifle close to his chest and walked over to the other men, hoping this would be a short trip. He gave the school a quick glance, immediately he didn’t feel comfortable. The moans of the dead filled the air. The smell of rot made him cringe. All around, in addition to the bodies of the dead, he saw dead soldiers every, all mauled and mutilated.

“Alright,’ Said the driver as he walked over. He glanced at a small patch on hiss chest the read “Corporal Winters.” “Taft wants us to do a full scale search of the place. But I can already tell ya, it doesn’t look like anybody made it.” Winters looked over at Tom. “Williams, are you absolutely sure nobody else made it out? Is it possible that any others are holed up somewhere?” Tom noticed Kingston watching him again, and ignored him.

“It’s possible,” He started. “I mean, shit went down pretty fast. None of us had time to even prepare. I left behind a losing battle.” Winters nodded.

“Fair enough. However, if there’s even a chance someone else made it, we can’t just leave. We’ll do a quick search of the school, no screwing. Things get bad, we get the hell out ASAP.” The soldier brandishing the Mossberg spoke up next. Tom noticed he had the shotgun in his hands now, and his rifle was strapped to his back. Squinting through sunlight, he read his name patch: “Private Elliot.”

“What about any civi’s?” He asked with a smirk.

“Kill them.” Winters said coldly, Elliot grinned. Tom inwardly cursed himself again for not listening to Nick. These people were bad news, and it very well may have cost them all their lives.

“Alright, then it’s settled. Williams, which would be the best way in?” Tom thought back  to his high school days. Behind the field, there was an entrance to the locker room, which led directly into the center of the school. There was also a side entrance, which led to the right wing which was the… art section. Or was it the music?

“We’ll cut through the field. Behind it, there’s a small entrance into the locker rooms. It’ll take us to the center of the school.” Winters nodded, his hands tightening around his rifle.

“You heard the man, let’s move out!” Tom slung the assault rifle over his back as they began jogging down the field. Nostalgia hit him as he remembered doing so during his football years. He looked over at the dead bleachers, devoid of all life except for the occasional corpse. He remembered them being jam packed every Friday night for the varsity games. His golden years…

Tom stopped at mid-waist fence and hopped over it, now on the track. He waited for the other soldiers to do so before continuing on. He saw a few shamblers stumbling about off in the distance, but other then that, things were quiet. It seemed like Elliot read his mind.

“I don’t like this… shouldn’t there be more of them?” He asked as they rounded the bleachers. Jack was the next to speak up.

“Once all the “food” was gone, they could have moved on…”

“That’s very true. Let’s just keep our eyes open, and we should be fine.” Winters replied. Tom slowed down as they reached the building, the double doors of the locker room now in sight. He slowed his pace to a fast walk, stopping when her came to the doors. He pulled the .357 from his holster, and held it up.

“Cover me, will ya?” He asked, placing a hand on the latch. Elliot pumped a shell into his shotgun, and Winters aimed his assault rifle at the door. Jack pulled out a USP, and went to the other side, his back to the wall. Tom looked over at him, and he gave a short nod. Taking a deep breath, he pulled the door open and hopped back a step, aiming the magnum inside. He immediately saw two shamblers in the middle of the room. They were both military, their ballistic armor stained with blood as they feasted on what looked like a young woman. He pulled the hammer on the gun back, ready to take them out when the Mossberg roared behind him.

“Woo! Hell yeah!” Elliot shouted as the buckshot sent one of the former soldiers flying. He crashed into a locker bank, indenting it a bit. The zombie moaned and stood back up, a gaping hole in its chest and its jaw blown off. A long tongue flapped about, Tom heard a liquid gurgle as large gobs of gore dripped out of its wounds. Tom Lifted his magnum and put it down for good. Jack’s USP blasted beside him, downing the second zombie before it could finish standing up.

“Move in.” Winters ordered. Tom slowly stepped inside, sweeping his .357 left, then right, then left again. Each of the soldiers spread out, taking a different section of the locker room. He held the gun out in front of him as he slowly walked through the room, not taking any chances. Glancing inside the shower room, we saw that it was empty too.

“All clear over here!” He called out, walking back to the others.

“Clear on my side too!” He heard Jack yell. Tom almost jumped as he heard a short burst from a rifle.

“Clear.” Winters said, walking over and meeting up with Tom and Jack. “The hell is Elliot?” He asked. “Elliot!” He called out.

“I’m over here.” Elliot called back. Winters shrugged, and decided to go walk over. Tom and Jack followed. As they rounded a locker bank, he saw Elliot standing in front of the football coach’s office. It was dark inside, and barely anything was visible.

“I swore I saw movement in there.”

“Undead?” Winters asked.

“Can’t be sure, and the fucking door is locked.” He gave it a short jiggle. Winters frowned, stepping forward. He pounded his fist on the door, looking inside.

“Open up!” He shouted. Tom squinted, trying to see something, anything inside. He could just make out the outline of the coach’s desk, but that was about it. Winters turned back to Elliot.

“Are you sure you saw something?” Elliot nodded. “Alright then, open it up.”

“With pleasure.” Elliot aimed his Mossberg at the small glass window on the door and fired off a round. The window exploded in a shower of glass, a large calendar in the back of the room displaying the upcoming football season dates went up in a ball of confetti. Elliot reached inside the room via the broken window and unlocked the door, pushing it open. Silence.

Jack pulled a flashlight off his utility belt and aimed it inside, the small beam of light illuminating room. It stopped when it reached the bottom of the desk, and a small pair of shoes could be seen.

“Someone’s under the desk…” Jack said, keeping the light trained on it. Winters looked over at Elliot, who shook his head.

“Fuck that, I ain’t goin’ in there.”

“I’ll go.” Tom said, keeping his .357 trained on the desk as he pulled out his own light. He clicked it on, the second beam of light lit up the room even more. He held the flashlight under his magnum as he slowly entered the room, staying as far away from the desk as he could until he could see who or what was underneath it. As he came around, his beam of light shined on a kid’s face. The kid had his face buried in his knees as he tried remaining as still as possible.

“Jesus, it’s just a kid.” He breathed, putting the .357 in the holster and sticking the light in his mouth as he bent over and picked the kid up. He sat him on the desk before taking the light out of his mouth, he kept it aimed down. The kid couldn’t be more the nine. He wore a stained t-shirt and a pair of blue jeans, and was looking sickly pale.

“Hey buddy.” Tom smiled, running a hand through his hair. The kid looked up at him, his eyes bloodshot from crying. He sniffled as he spoke up.

“I w-want my daddy…” The kid lost it, and began crying again.

“There, there.” Tom rubbed his back. “Where is your daddy? I’ll-” His eyes went wide with horror as the kid’s head suddenly jerked back and split open, a single gunshot echoed throughout the room. A bit of blood splattered against his face, but he didn’t notice. His eyes were wide, he felt his blood going could. He slowly turned back and saw Winters casually lowering his rifle.

“What the fuck was that?!” Tom gasped, still shocked at what had happened.

“We have our orders, no civi‘s.” Winters said. Tom began to shake as he looked back at the kid, so frail and young. He was sprawled out on the desk, dark fluid flowing out of his head. Tears dripped down his face as Jack quickly came over and pulled him away from the scene.

“He was just a fucking kid…” Tom whimpered as he was led out of the room.





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Nick groaned in pain as he reached into his vest and pulled out his pack of cigarettes. He was surprised the guard that had patted him down let him keep them. He opened up the pack and pulled one out, then held out the pack to Jake.

“Want one?” Jake looked down at the pack, as if considering whether or not he did.

“Nah.” Nick shrugged as put the pack back in his vest. He pulled out his lighter, and was again amused that he’d been able to keep that. He lit up the cig, relishing the cool smoke settling in his chest before he exhaled. The hangar they’d been led to was filled with various cots and small tents, it seemed to be a mini city of sorts. It sort of reminded him of the shanty towns during the great depression.

He and the kid had wandered back outside, and were sitting against the edge of the hanger. As he took another hit, he watched Barnes up at the front gate. He seemed to be Taft’s right-hand man, and ran most of the shots. Nick had only seen Taft once, and it was just for a brief moment when he’d come out of his little fortress in the control tower to talk with Barnes.

“I’m going to kill that bastard.” Nick said, exhaling smoke from his nose.

“Do you think Katharina is ok?” Jake asked, looking over at the hanger across the field. He could see some women outside mulling about, but couldn’t make out Katharina.

“I don’t know…” Nick answered. “I really hope so.”

“Well what about Tom?” Nick flicked the cigarette away.

“That is a damn good question. I saw him and a few other men drive off. Seems they think he’s one of them. That’s the only way I see us getting out of here. What really interests me though is that Blackhawk.” Nick pointed over to the landing strip, where the sleek black helicopter rested. Jake’s eyes lit up. “Only problem is, Mike was the only god damn pilot we had.”

“I can fly.” Jake said, Nick chuckled at that.

“You’re shitting me.”

“I shit you not!” Jake threw his hands up. “Well, I know the basics anyways. My dad’s friend gave him a few passes for free helicopter lessons. My parents were always working, so it gave me something to do. I just flew a regular Bell 206 though, but the controls can’t be that different.” Nick slapped him on the shoulder.

“Refresh your memory kid, if you could fly that thing, that’d be great.” Jake smiled.

“It’s been like half a year… but I probably still can.”

“Better then nothing, I suppose.” Nick sighed and leaned his head back, closing his eyes for an instant. He hadn’t been resting for more then a few minutes when he was startled awake upon hearing his name.

“Barron? Nick fucking Barron?” He opened as right eye just in time to see a fist slam into his face.

“God damn it!” Nick cursed, he’d been beat up more today then his whole life. He grabbed the man’s fist before he could be hit again and spun him around, holding his arm behind his back and slamming him against the hangar. He immediately recognized that the man was wearing a uniform similar to his.

“No way…” It was Ben Grady, New York City swat.

“You son of a bitch!” Ben screamed, shoving away from Nick and pushing him. Nick kept his balance, and instead grappled him to the ground. He sat on top of Ben, keeping his arms pinned.

“Ben, calm down!” Grady struggled underneath him, trying to break free. “Cool it! What the hell‘s your problem?” Ben subsided, relaxing a bit before he stopped moving altogether. Ben looked up at him, rage in his eyes.

“Where the fuck was our support, Nick?” Ben spat. Oh shit. Nick sighed, remembering the first day of the outbreak. He’d been assigned on a rooftop, ordered to cover his squad. At first, it’d been relatively simple. He picked off a few of the shamblers as they made their way towards a building in the process of being evacuated. As things started getting bad, he’d abandoned his post in hopes of saving his wife.

“Owens, Carles, Jackson… all dead you piece of shit!” Ben struggled with him again, this time getting off a punch to his side. Jake stepped in and delivered a swift kick to Ben’s side, which caused him to stop struggling.

“Knock it the hell off! I did what I had to, we all did!” Nick spat. “How did you end up here anyways?” Ben chuckled, his eyes becoming watery.

“Remember those evacuations at Central Park? Well, guess where they took us? Take one fucking guess…” Nick slowly got off his former squad mate, and held down a hand. Ben slowly grabbed it, and Nick pulled him up. Nick didn’t want to ask, but he needed to know.

“So… did anyone else make it?” Ben glared at him.

“Caster and Luke were taken down from behind. They figured they still had covering fire.” Nick grimaced.

“Shit.” It looked like Ben was about to flip again, but stopped when a large man stepped up behind him, placing a meaty hand on his shoulder.

“Cut it out Ben, we’re all in this together.” The man said. He had a large pot belly, and wore a red checkered button-down. He wore a large leather belt, with the insignia of Mac trucks on the buckle. The trucker cap made Nick believe he actually used to be a truck driver. Behind the large man stood a tall Asian. He wore a tight leather jacket that seemed to be perfectly fitted. Long, black hair flowed down his face, somewhat covering some scars.

“Gary Gaskin.” The larger man smiled, holding out a hand. Nick shook it.

“Nick Barron. Kid over there is Jake… uh…” Jake stepped forward.

“Jake Tyra, child prodigy.” Nick grinned, ruffling his hair.

“Yeah, and I’m the fucking pope.”

“This fine fella over here is Hua Long. Doesn’t speak much English, but he has good intentions.” Hua simply smiled and nodded.

“It’s a pleasure.” Nick said, glad to have made some new friends.

“Now, I couldn’t help but overhear your conversation…” He turned towards Jake. “Can you really fly that there chopper?” He tilted his head back towards the Blackhawk. Jake shakily nodded.

“Yes… I think so.” Gary grinned, clapping his hands.

“Well then boy, it looks like we’re going to get along just fine.”





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Katharina sat on her cot curled up and wondering where the soldiers had taken Tom. Every time one of the soldiers would make their way to the hangar, she’d shy away to the corner and try making herself as obsolete as possible. Upon observing the other women here, she saw that some of them even didn’t mind the “visits” so much, some even looked forward to them.

“I sure as hell don’t.” She mumbled to herself. She yawned, stretching out on the uncomfortable cot and wishing she could shower. She wished she could go back to her apartment in New York, she knew it was right for her the second she saw the bathroom. The Jacuzzi tub always made her feel amazing. She missed the late nights reading in the tub by candlelight.

“Damn pillow.” She turned around and fluffed it up, it didn’t matter though, it was flat as a rock. Her stomach growled, begging for some food. Deciding that she wasn’t getting sleep anytime soon, she got up and walked outside. Some other girls wandered about, looking out across the airfield at the other hangar. She squinted her eyes, trying to find Nick or Jake. She could just make out them walking into their own hangar with a few other men.

“Lucky them.” She wish she had someone with her. Before the outbreak, she had no problem with people. She was always talking to strangers at work, or chatting up people in stores. But now… she just didn’t have it in her.

“Hey pretty girl.” She turned around, and saw one of the guards eying her up. She took a few steps back.

“Um, hi.” The guard grinned, taking a step forward.

“What’s a cute lil thang like you doin’ all alone out here?” He took another step forward. He sneakers crunched on the gravel as she took another step back, not wanting to be raped.

“She’s with me, and you should get back to your post.” Another woman said, stepping forward and in front of Katharina. Katharina looked the guard square in the eyes. The guard smirked and turned around, calling back over his shoulder.

“Whatever bitch.” He called back. The woman turned back around. She was a lot older then Katharina, probably in her late thirties. A few wrinkles lined her face, as well as a few gray hairs. She looked like she was once a beautiful woman, but age and stress had taken its toll.

“Thank you.” Katharina said. The woman smiled.

“Don’t mention it, honey. Name’s Jessie. You want to take a walk?” Katharina laughed, feeling happy for the first time since arriving.

“I’d love to.”