Chapter Four

Chapter 4




A lone figure stood on the roof of an electronics store, mesmerized by two zombies ripping apart a corpse. He shakily reached into his pocket and pulled out a crumpled pack of cigarettes, fishing one and lighting it as the duo directly below him managed to rip off an arm from the corpse. He had quit smoking for his wife years ago, but today... today was just one of those days. He took a long drag before exhaling a large puff of smoke. Screams came from all directions, making him cringe. Gunshots exploded throughout the city in a battle with an unstoppable army. Looking down at his .303 Sniper Rifle he took another hit, letting the smoke settle deep in his lungs before exhaling. He was one of the NYPD's best marksmen, assigned with covering the swat team as they tried maintaining order. But as more and more people took to the streets, and those... things began attacking anybody in close proximity, he had abandoned his post. Officer Nick Barron sighed as he took another drag on his cig as he recalled the days events.

It had been his day off, yet he'd been called in, all officers were. Nick had been pissed, it was his three year anniversary with his wife and he specifically called off months in advance. Yet, orders were orders and he couldn't do jack shit about them. Nick had kissed his wife goodbye and headed off to the station. Nick gritted his teeth and let out a moan of agony, wishing he'd done things differently; it was the last time he'd seen her alive. By the time he had showed up, the station had been packed with frantic New Yorkers with incredible stories. The chief had ordered the swat team to help the army with evacuations. Barron didn't know what was going on, and this frightened him. Once he witnessed firsthand as most of his team was overrun, he abandoned his post and headed home praying to God he wasn't too late.

A small tear slid down his cheek as he inhaled once more before flicking the cig over the edge. When he arrived at his apartment complex, the place was devoid of life. Feeling somewhat relieved he had jogged up the stairs not bothering with the elevator to his room. Outside the apartment, the door had been slightly open. Nick trembled as he pulled out another cigarette and lit it, wanting to forget what happened but knowing he couldn't. He had called out for his wife as he stepped in, Glock 19 drawn. If the bloody hand print on the fridge wasn't enough of an answer to what had happened or the overturned chair and smashed plate on the ground, a faint sound coming from the bedroom was. Nick had raced past the kitchen, barely noticing the small stove fire.

Officer Barron had stumbled into the room, and screamed in misery as a shambler looked up at him with blood encrusted lips and milky eyes that seemed to stare right through him. The zombie was standing over his wife who was sprawled out on the bed, a look of sheer terror on her face. Her ribcage was torn open, bones sticking up through her chest cavity, the zombie holding a handful of bloody entrails in its hands. He recognized the abomination though, it was someone that lived down the hall, Joseph. Joseph had a large gash in his through, and a kitchen knife lodged in his side. He recognized the knife as his own, realizing his wife had probably put up a fight. Joseph's necktie hung loose around his collar, his white button down soaked with gore. Nick fired once, Joseph's head snapped backwards and towards the open window. Nick had cried out and fired a few more times, causing Joseph to plummet out the window.

"If only I stayed..." Nick whispered as he sat on the ledge of the roof, peering over the edge once more as the zombies continued their feast. Officer Barron decided to see what was on the radio as he finished up the cigarette, having turned it off earlier.


"...ackup! Send backup now!" an officer yelled.

"Dispatch, we need an EMS uni-" another cried.

"They're everywhere! Jesus Christ they're comin' in all-" Nick turned the radio off again, a feeling of dread in the pit of his stomach. He grabbed the rifle and walked to the other side of the roof, feeling it was time to go. New York City was fucked, and he wanted to get out while he still could. Reaching the other end, he peered down into the alley, grateful that it was devoid of life.

"Here goes nothin'." Nick tossed his rifle down onto a few bags of junk before hopping over the edge, crouching on impact. He heard a moan behind him. On instinct, Nick pulled out his Glock and spun around into a crouch.

"Freeze!" He said, trying to sound confident. A zombie he didn't see slumped behind a dumpster stood up. In its previous life it had been a hooker; she was dressed in a short leather skirt with a neon pink thong sticking out and spaghetti straps. Her broken heels clicked as she stumbled forward. Nick thought about firing, but then thought against it, not wanting to alert any other undead. They seemed to be attracted to noise. He holstered his weapon and pulled out his nightstick, the cool metal heavy in his hands.

"Wrong day to be workin' the streets, honey." He said as he swung hard. There was a dull thwack as she stumbled aside, jaw hanging loose at the side. "Bring it whore." He spat as he swung again, harder. Her skull caved in as the nightstick connected and sent her sprawling to the ground. Nick put the nightstick away and hopped over her, going into a light jog down the alley. He stopped when he saw a lone squad car in the middle of the street, both doors wide open and lights flashing, illuminating the pile of corpses that surrounded the vehicle. From the looks of things, it looked like whoever was stationed here put up a fight. Over a dozen zombies were sprawled out in the street, riddled with gunshot wounds. He could make out an officer collapsed on the hood of the car, his face torn off.

Nick unstrapped his sniper rifle and peered through the scope, trying to distinguish who it was.

"DeLuca." He said, recognizing the cop from an unforgettable tattoo of a large cross going down his forearm with a psalm written around it. He wasn't exactly friends with the officer, but he'd seen him around the station from time to time. Even had coffee with him once, an overall nice guy. Nick lowered the rifle a little to see various handgun casings and shotgun shells littered around the car, along with an empty handgun and-

“Nice shotgun.” He said, spotting a Spas-12 shotgun by the driver’s side. He noticed a box of shells on the seat, but couldn’t tell whether there was anything in it or not. Nick used the rifle to see four zombies in close range to the car, they’d need to be taken out before he could get away.

Nick Barron wasted no time, the sun was setting and he didn’t want to be running around the city blind. He targeted the closest one, a fat man in a shredded mailman uniform. He stuck two fingers in his mouth and whistled loud. The mailman moaned as her turned to face the sniper.

“That got yer attention.” Nick aimed for his head and fired. The .303 round blasted the top half of its skull off. He pulled the bolt back and aimed at a child. The kid was missing both his arms, but whether or not it felt pain he didn’t know. He closed his eyes as he fired this time, not wanting to kill a child. Officer Barron heard moans in all directions now, the gunfire had gained him some unwanted attention.

“Ah shit.” He said, pulling the bolt back and chambering another in. The two zombies were almost in a line as the stumbled forward. Actually…

“Over here pussfuck!” He yelled, standing up from a crouch and walking a little to the right. The zombie in the lead moaned as it stumbled toward him, unknowingly stepping right in front of the other. “Gotcha.” Nick pulled the trigger, the rifle kicking hard into his shoulder as the round blasted through both of the zombie’s heads. Nick quickly lowered the rifle and ran for the police car as a large group of zombies began encircling the car. His boots skidded on the pavement as he tossed his sniper rifle in the passenger seat and bent over and grabbed the Spas-12 shotgun.

“Ughhh…”

“Gah!” Nick cried out as officer DeLuca grabbed his arm, trying to pull it to his bloody mouth. Nick whipped DeLuca across the face with the shotgun and pumped it.

“Goodbye, DeLuca.” Nick fired, completely obliterating DeLuca’s head. He grabbed the downed cop’s pant leg and tugged him off the hood of the car before getting in. Thankful that the keys were still in the ignition, he fired up the engine and floored it out of there.

***********************


Private Tom Williams fell to his knees, a morbid feeling of loss overtaking him. Sprawled out across Times Square were the bodies of his squad. Hundreds of corpses lined the street, his team no doubt making a brave last stand.

“I don’t believe this…” He breathed, not even noticing Katharina‘s hand on his shoulder. Was he the last one alive? No, couldn’t be. He numbly counted the bodies in his head, noting that a few were missing. He hoped to God they got away. A gunshot to his left startled him. He cocked his head- and sprang to his feet.

“Styles!” He yelled, drawing his sidearm. He cursed himself for losing his rifle back at the store, but the bastards tore it from his grip. Feeling a bit bare without the rifle, he ran over to where Corporal Styles weakly swatted at the three zombies tearing into him, his handgun laying next to him with the slide back; empty.

“Get off of him!” He growled, firing the gun at point blank range. Styles’ three assailants were gunned down as Tom rushed to his side.

“Williams…” Styles moaned in pain.

“Look, you’re going to be ok! Just, um…” He was no medic, he didn’t know what to do.

“Listen… get t-to central park, everyone’s…” Styles coughed up blood on himself as he tried sitting up, his eyes darting feverishly around as he saw the various bite marks on his legs and chest.

“Don’t talk, just stay still.” He tried reassuring.

“Tom, hurry…” Katharina worriedly said as a few zombies began closing in on them.

“Listen! Get there now… whole city is… is….” The Corporal began violently convulsing, his whole body jerking up before slumping down to the ground.

“Corporal Styles?” Tom jerked the soldier. “Styles! F***!”

“Tom!” Tom closed Styles eyes with his hand, putting him at rest as Katharina screamed out another warning. He quickly looked around until he spotted what he wanted, another service rifle. It was right by the medic, Kelsey.

“Hold on.” He said, running over to Kelsey’s corpse and grabbing the gun and fishing out a spare magazine from her ammo pack along with two more for his M9. He spotted Jones as well, a large hole in the top of his head. He managed to find another two magazines for the rifle along with one for his sidearm. Feeling somewhat confident with a little more firepower he ran to Katharina, who was backing away from a small group of undead. Wasting no time he raised the rifle, scoring perfect headshots and taking them out.

“Look, if we stay here we are royally screwed. Styles mentioned something about Central Park, I think it’s our best bet to head there.” He said, trying his best to maintain his composure. All of the killing was starting to get to him. It just didn’t feel right gunning down innocent people… They’re not innocent. His inner voice reassured him.

“What’s going to happen to me?” She asked him, large pleading eyes looking back at him. Tom shook his head.

“I honestly don’t know anymore. I don’t even know if HQ is still holding fort…” He trailed off, wondering deep down what was going to happen to himself. What would he do if HQ was overrun?

“Tom…” Katharina said. If the entire unit was gone, where would he go? Would he abandon his post?

“Tom look…” Katharina said again. He knew where he wanted to go if the shit really did hit the fan. His grandfather didn’t live too far from the city, and he had an outrageous amount of firepower. He was the biggest gun nut Tom knew.

“Tom, snap out of it!” Katharina shoved him. “Look!” Tom turned his attention to where she was pointing. A police car was speeding down the street, slamming into the sides of cars and sending zombies flying over the hood.

“What the hell…” As the car drove over the hundreds of bodies in the street, it swerved into an overturned bus. The zombies that had been advancing towards them suddenly turned their attention to the squad car. Tom could see there was only a single occupant in the vehicle, he was pulling something up-

Buckshot sent a ghoul at his window flying back as the driver racked in another shell.

“I gotta help him, stay close!” Tom told Katharina, rushing forward and firing his service rifle. The gathering crowd of shamblers started becoming larger as the crowded in on the trapped cop. Tom switched his rifle to full auto as the trapped cop fired off another buckshot and decapitated a zombie on the hood of the car and also shattering the cracked windshield. The zombie flew off the hood in a shower of glass and gore. Tom saw an opening for the car.

“You two, get in!” The cop ordered, Tom noticed he was swat.

“Kathy, get in!” He yelled, turning around and covering her. She jumped in the backseat as he emptied the rest of his magazine before hopping in shotgun. “Go, go, go!” Tom stuck his sidearm out the window and fired off a few more shots as the squad car worked its way through the wreckage before speeding off.

“Jesus…” He breathed, letting the handgun fall on his lap as he leaned his head back and relaxed for the first time all day.

“Thanks for the help back there, I appreciate it.” The swat team member said. Before Tom could answer Kathy did.

“Thanks for getting us out of there.”

“’Ey, no problem. I’m officer Barron by the way, but most people call me Nick. Can somebody tell me what the fuck is going on?”