Chapter 36

Chapter 36

Pennsylvania
Long’s Woods
Outbreak: Day 8



John Christopher Lukas ran a cloth over his rifle as he puffed on his one and only Cuban. It was a gift from his boss, just a few months ago. Thinking back, those few months seemed like a few years. John smirked at this while he polished the rifle, winking at himself in the crisp reflection given off the gun. His boss had always ahead of everyone else, or would like to think he was. Closing million dollar deals over a game of golf was common for the man. While his mind was sharp and his comebacks were fast, the man had always been lacking one aspect; common sense.

Leaning back and inhaling the thick smoke, John coughed as he took in too much. He never really was a smoker, but he’d always heard Cubans were the best of the best. The cream of the crop, and he made damn sure he smoked one before he died. John lightly placed his rifle down on the cherry wood coffee table, laying the cloth next to it as he grabbed his cup of bourbon and reminisced on the past. Yes, his boss, Mr. Collins, had put a lot of trust into people. That was the thing with society today, you couldn’t trust a damn soul anymore. Everyone was greedy, and out there for a quick buck. While John had always been one to enjoy the finer aspects of life, he never cheated anybody out of a single cent. He believed in hard work and karma. Edward Yates however, did not.

John grinned at this, remember how an alarm had went off in his head the moment Edward had walked through the front doors, trying to be approved for a three million dollar loan. The smug look on the man’s face and his eyes gave him away. That was one thing John had picked up from his father; he could read people like a book. And Mr. Yates was one that John did not trust. Edward insisted that he purchased run-down real estate, then fixed it up and sold it off for a higher price. Judging from his slicked back hair, expensive business suit, and designer shoes John could tell the man had never gotten his hands dirty in his life.

A few phone calls later to some contacts, it turned out Mr. Yates had booked a one-way flight to Tahiti the day his loan was approved- go figure. John had always been one to stay fit. At age forty-seven, he still felt to be in his late thirties. They always said fifty was the new forty anyway. When Edward tried leaving Wilmington Finance with that check, John had made damn sure he didn’t make it past the lobby. Oh, had Mr. Collins been pleased. John smiled at this, missing the old bastard. Shame he had to break a laptop over his head when he turned at the office.

John cringed as the cries of the dead drifted through the cracked window, giving him a hellish reminder of what horrors awaited him outside the confines of his cabin; his salvation. So long as those bastards kept screaming, he would be safe. Looking over the side of the couch, John decided to ash the Cuban onto the hardwood floor. And to think, he used to be so anal about keeping everything tidy. He used to recycle just about everything he could, and even converted his house to promote solar-powered electricity. What for though? Now that it was the end of the world, bodies and garbage littered the streets. So much for living the “green” lifestyle.

Leaning back and taking another puff from the Cuban, John went back to reminiscing about his career achievement. Mr. Collins had been so pleased that he was given a two week paid vacation, along with a hefty bonus. Ah, those two weeks would have been lovely, it always seemed like he was busting his ass no matter what he was doing.

“A damn shame the world had to end before I could use it.” John mumbled as he took a final puff before realizing he was sick of it. To be honest, smoking wasn’t really his forte. Deciding that his hardwood floor didn’t need to be ruined, John decided to take a stroll outside. The Cuban dangled in his lips as he grabbed the rifle from the table, adjusting the leather strap as he slung it over his shoulder. His boots tapped on the floor as he walked to the front door and stepped outside, pulling the Cuban from his mouth and taking a deep breath of fresh air.

“Well, not really.” He said. The air smelled like shit, he couldn’t even remember what a fresh breath of air felt like. His boots rustled through the grass the badly needed a trim as he walked over to one of the trees, where he had one of those screamers tied up.

“How’s it going Sandra?” John asked, lowering the female howler down. “Sandra” lashed out and screamed in rage as he tied the rope back to the tree, keeping her at eye-level. John really was getting lonely, which was odd. Back during normal times, he used to value his privacy, almost desire it in a way. Now that everybody was gone… he was lonely, very lonely. So lonely that he even began naming the undead he captured, and conversing with them daily. Maybe it was just his own way of staying sane, but it worked. Sandra howled and tried lashing out at him, and in the process one of her long nails broke off against the trunk of the tree.

“Shit, sorry about that.” John said, going back to the rope and raising her up a bit so that she wouldn’t hurt herself. She actually seemed to calm down a bit at this. Behind him, Bill began acting up. John turned around, grimacing in the process. Ah Bill, the cranky bastard. He was dressed in a ‘Nam military jacket, so John always assumed he was some old war vet. He must have experienced some pretty deep shit.

“Bill, why do you have to do that?” Blood leaked from Bill’s eyes as John lowered him a bit.

“Havin’ fun?” John’s heart skipped a beat as a male spoke behind him with a rather deep voice. John spun around, his hand instinctively reaching for his .45 at his side. Funny, back during normal times, he’d be constantly reaching for his cellular. Now, it was for a gun.

“Whoa there, cowboy. Don’t shoot, I mean ya no harm.” His revolver was aimed at a man, a very familiar man. It almost looked like a younger version of himself. Actually, it looked exactly like a younger version of himself. No, that was impossible. But the resemblance was striking.

“Who are you? What are you doing here?” John asked, his eyes stern and gun unwavering. The man cocked and eyebrow and walked forward, his steps cracking on fallen branches.

“The name’s Joe, but I should be askin’ what the hell your doing boy.” John smirked at this, the gun slightly lowering to the side.

“I’ve got at least fifteen years on you. And I was just… well, ugh…” He honestly didn’t know what to say, he probably looked like a lunatic. That didn’t matter though apparently, because Joe let out a hearty laugh. John didn’t care who this man was or why he was here actually, he was just glad to have some company.

“Better yet, save the excuses.” Joe nodded at his left hand, which still held the smoking Cuban. “You mind?” John shook his head.

“No, not at all.” Joe swiped the cigar out of his hand, taking a large hit off it. The end lit up as it was fed oxygen; Joe walked over to Bill and blew smoke in his face before putting the Cuban out on his forehead. Bill howled in rage as he skin boiled and popped.

“Mind if I crash here for tonight? I don’t think I’m in Kansas anymore.”





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“No!” Katharina cried out as Barnes backhanded her across the face, send her to the floor. Her cheek burned in pain, and she could tell there was probably a hand print already forming. Well, this is it Kath. Her luck could only hold out for so long, it was bound to run out sometime. She saw tears in Barnes eyes as he looked down at her, his fists opening in closing around his handgun as if debating whether to beat to living hell out of her or shoot her. Maybe she could reason with him…

“Look-”

“Shut the fuck up!” Water shot from his lips as he raised the gun and aimed it at her, causing her to crab walk backwards until her back hit the wall.

“I don’t know what the hell you’re talking about!” Katharina blurted out. Lying eh? It so wasn’t her, she could never lie to her parents back when she was younger. She would always smile, and he dimples would show. However, she was in no way smiling now. The gun wavered in his hands as he took a single step forward. His boot squelched on the floor, wet from the storm outside.

“Bull shit.” He growled, his eyes locked with hers and the gun aimed at her chest. Just keep calm, just keep calm just keep-

“I’m not!”

“You are.” Katharina scrambled to stand up as the Sergeant cornered her, a crazed look in his eyes. A look of someone with nothing left to lose, someone that didn’t care whether they lived or died. Well, Katharina wanted to live.

“Wait, just wait!” She shrieked as Barnes whipped the pistol across her face. Her vision doubled and her head felt light as the gun cracked against her mouth. She tasted metal in her mouth, which meant she was bleeding.

“Just look out there!” She cried, pointing her hand at the door. “People are dying! Those zombies are killing everyone! I didn’t do this, they did!” Real tears formed in Katharina’s eyes as she remembered her best friend in the hardest of times, torn apart and screaming for help as she… ran away like a coward. Barnes snarled, a deep growl emitting from his throat as he turned around and kicked the desk, indenting one of the metal drawers when his boot connecting. Katharina flinched as he did so, and discretely wiped the tears flowing down her face.

Oh god, her face. The pain was immense, and her entire face felt on fire. Rex turned to face her, his lip twitching and brows furrowed. She could see the veins in his neck popping out as he leaned his head back and cried out to the uncaring sky, falling to his knees as he did so. Katharina worked her way out of the corner of the office, her hands running against the uneven walls as Barnes began to weep.

What should she do? What could she do? Her first instinct was to run out the door, screaming for help. But no, he would probably just shoot her in the back. Barnes leaned against the cot, his handgun loose in his fingertips. Had she convinced him? Katharina wasn’t too keen on the idea of getting beaten to death, and almost wanted to take her chances outside. But, she was unarmed, and even if she had a gun she wasn’t too good with one.

“Hey…” Might as well go along with it, she thought. What other choice did she have? Running would only raise suspicion. Katharina frowned as blood leaked from the corner of her mouth, but she decided to ignore it for now. Barnes grunted as her hand lightly rested on his shoulder; his chest heaved as he breathed rapidly. “Hey, calm down.” She tried making her tone sound friendly, but had trouble managing to do so. Her jaw hurt, and the bleeding in her mouth hadn’t subsided yet.

“Stop.” Rex croaked between sobs, raising a hand a shoeing her away. Katharina ignored him, and began rubbing his shoulders.

“It’s ok.” She lied, her eyes never leaving the handgun dangling in his fingers. It was all playing through in her hand. Get his guard down, grab the gun, profit? No, she just wanted to live- for Tom to live. Barnes sighed, moving away from leaning on the cot and opting to slide down on the floor, leaning against it. A scream outside reminded her that she needed to get going. But where was Tom? The staccato of gunfire resounded outside, and lots of it. She didn’t have time for this shit!

“Knock it off.” Barnes shoved her off, sighing heavily as his hands rubbed his eyes and he began standing up. In the process, his boot nudged the cot back a bit, revealing a small golden locket hidden underneath that had been overlooked earlier. What the-

Barnes bent over and scooped it up, opening up the locket with a click of the latch. Oh shit. Barnes breath was caught in his throat as a picture of Barnes was revealed in the locket. Unbeknownst to Katharina, he’d given Cindy the locket a few days before she’d arrived. A small blotch of blood was smudged on the outside of the locket, Barnes finger slowly ran over the stain as he clicked it shut and shot her a look of hatred.

“You lying bitch…”





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“Let’s go! Move your sorry asses!” Nick fired off two shots in the air as he waved a crowd of frantic survivors through into the armory. He was supposed to be at the choppers waiting for evac, fuck that. He was still an officer of the law, probably one of the only ones left in the United States. It was his duty to serve and protect, and he was making damn sure he carried through with it to the end. He would not leave these defenseless people behind, at least not if they didn’t even stand a fighting chance.

An elderly male was on his knees, arms outstretched to the sky as he mumbled a prayer. The African American was dressed in all black, and Nick recognized him. Over the last few days, the man had been preaching about how the heavens were going to rain hell down upon all sinners; he was a pastor.

“Hey!” Nick hobbled over to the pastor, his leg hurt like a bitch. He stopped beside the man of the lord and blasted away a howler as it ran towards them screaming. Looking down the runway, he saw the undead were gradually making their way towards the choppers. Shit. “Get up! Are you crazy?” Beads of water dripped from the man’s shaved head as the rain came down in sheets.

“And, behold, the veil of the temple was rent in twain from the top to the bottom- and the earth did quake and the rocks rent-” The man had lost it. The moans of the dead raised the hairs on the back of his neck.

“Come on, old man! We need to move!” The pastor grunted as Nick pulled him up and began dragging him towards the armory.

“-And the graves were opened, and many bodies of the saints which slept arose!” Thunder exploded overhead. “And they came out of the graves after his resurrection, and went into the holy city and appeared unto many…”

“No shit?” Nick asked, pulling the man into the armory where a handful of men and women awaited, staring nervously at the array of weapons. Christ, there had been well over two hundred civilians when he had first arrived to this shit hole. Now, there were just over thirty.

“And when there is no more room in hell, the dead will walk…” The pastor turned to a table and grabbed a double barreled shotgun, popping open the tube and loading two shells into it. “Let’s send the devil’s minions back to hell.” The pastor snapped the shotgun shut, and a small grin formed on Nick’s face.

“You heard him people! Load up on everything you can, we’re in for one hell of a fight!” The people were on the arsenal in an instant. Shotguns pumped as shells were loaded, machine guns clacked at magazines were slapped in, and handguns were cocked as clips were loaded in. A crowd of nervous eyes stared back at Nick as he grabbed a few more magazines for his M21.

“Remember… aim for the head.” He heard someone sniffle in the background. Nick peered through heads until he saw a boy armed with a revolver.

“Make way.” He pushed through the small crowd until he came to the boy, he couldn’t be more than fourteen. “You  alright?” The kid looked up with tears in his eyes.

“I’m scared.” He simply said. Nick let out a breath, scratching to side of his head as the gunfire outside became more and more sporadic.

“Do you like videogames?” The kid’s eyes lit up.

“Heck yeah I do!” Funny, a kid’s mood could change in an instant. Nick couldn’t even remember how that feeling felt anymore.

“Well, think of this as one. It’s your last life, and uh… you’re shooting for the high score.” The kid grinned.

“Sure thing!”

“Good.” Nick hobbled over to the end of the armory, his face grim as the first of the dead stumbled off the runway and over to them, the sweet scent of fresh meat every so tempting. “Let’s go!” The small army of civilians rushed out of the armory and onto the runway, blocking off the undead advance. Nick’s rifle raised, trained on a howler. The howler screamed in fury as it shoved shamblers out of the way and stormed forward. Nick fired just as the entire band of survivors opened up. The entire front line of the dead went down as the remaining survivors unleashed hell.

“The hell?” He lowered his rifle after taking another shot when he saw two people back to back against the side of a Cessna. A female and a male, both dressed in military fatigues, were barely keeping the dead at bay.

“Shit.” Nick ducked away as the survivors continued firing away into the mass of the dead. They seemed to be closing in like a giant sheet of rotten flesh, intent on consuming the living. It would buy him some time. Shouldering his rifle, he pulled out his .40 handgun. It felt odd in his hands, it was his standard issued sidearm back in New York City. It felt good having it back in his hands.

The male cursed as he sprayed his assault rifle into the guts of a pack of undead. They stumbled back from the force of the gunfire, their abdomens being shot to hell as they moaned in hunger.

“Damn it, LaRouge, aim for the head!” The female screamed as a handgun kicked in her hands, and a body crumpled to  the ground a second later.

“I’m trying, damn it!” LaRouge yelled back over gunfire. Nick stopped as the girl fired off three more shots at another shambler; all three missed.

“Aim for the head, aim for the head!” LaRouge mimicked. “Learn to shoot, damn it. You suck!”

“Psh, you wish.” She made a disgusted look as they both open fired again.

“Hey!” Nick screamed, finally deciding to interrupt the fight. The .40 kicked in his hands as he fired twice, and two shamblers dropped dead with perfect headshots. LaRouge and the woman turned as he kept his gun trained on the shamblers.

“Howdy!” LaRouge yelled between bursts from his assault rifle. Nick took out three more shamblers before yelling back to the man.

“You’re that pilot, correct?” A howler screamed as it hopped over a few body lying face down. When it came within a few feet off him, Nick turned the gun. Just as its face came in contact with the barrel and a growl was heard, Nick pulled the trigger. Its head exploded in a shower of gore.

“That’s me!” LaRouge yelled as he started making his way over, firing the rifle from the hip as he did so. The woman followed closely behind, her handgun popping off a shot ever few seconds.

“Good, get that chopper fired up! Tom gathering up some of the others and we’re getting out!” The woman smiled at this.

“He made it?” Nick nodded, wiping the barrel of the gun against his vest, taking off the blood.

“Yeah, but we really don’t have much time left.” Nodding back, he saw that the survivors were pushing back, a few of them had already been taken down.

“Reese, LaRouge!” Tom slowed down as he reached them.

“Speak of the devil.” LaRouge grinned.

“Good, you’re all-”

“Cut the chit chat, Tom. Get Kath!” Tom nodded and ran off, gone just as fast as he’d arrived. Nick looked around suddenly, remembering Jake and Hua. Where the hell were they?

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Tom Williams panted as he ran through the hangar. He was surprised Barnes and Katharina hadn’t shown up yet, what the hell was taking so long? He stopped outside Katharina’s door, and rattled the handle; it was locked. How could it be locked, didn’t Barnes stop by yet? He pounded on the door, rocking it in the frame.

“Kath! Open up!” Tom’s ears perked as he heard her cry out.

“Tom!” Her voice was rasped, and she sounded to be in a lot of pain. The Spas-12 exploded in the empty hangar as he shot the lock and kicked the door open, not thinking twice about it.

“The fuck…” Katharina was crumpled on the floor at the other end of the room. Her face was contorted with fear, blood leaking from the sides of her mouth and eyes wide with fear. Barnes hovered over her, and forehead furrowed in anger. And… and a gun was aimed at his beloved Katharina.

“Barnes, what the fuck are you doing?” The shotgun was aimed at his friend in an instant.

“Get out of here.” Barnes growled through grit teeth. What the hell was going on?

“Barnes, lower the gun.” Rex kept the gun aimed at Katharina’s head. Looking down at the floor, and the gold locket clutched in one of his hands, Tom could only assume he’d finally figured it out.

“Get out of here, Williams.” Barnes said, his voice cracking.

“Lower the fucking gun!” Tom pumped the shotgun as a bit of insurance. “Don’t do anything stupid, for Christ’s sake it wasn’t her fault!” Rex turned to face him at this.

“Like hell it wasn’t!” The Sergeant screamed. “She murdered Cindy, and she needs to be punished.”

“You stupid son of a bitch, don’t you even think about it!” Tom spat. “You try anything and you’re dead. You hear me? Fucking dead!”

“You don’t scare me Williams. I have nothing left to lose.”

“Well I do. It’s not her fault, just listen-” Barnes cocked the handgun, chambering in a round. “Just fucking listen damn it! Cindy attacked Kath, it was an act of self defense! She did nothing wrong, and you damn well know that!” Barnes thought about this for a split second, the gun wavering for a bit- and then he pulled the trigger.