Chapter 26

Chapter 26

Are you unaware that we who were baptized into Christ Jesus were baptized into his death? We were indeed buried with him through baptism into death, so that, just as Christ was raised from the dead by the glory of the Father, we too might live in newness of life. For if we have grown into union with him through a death like his, we shall also be united with him in the resurrection. We know that our old self was crucified with him, so that our sinful body might be done away with, that we might no longer be in slavery to sin. For a dead person has been absolved from sin. If, then, we have died with Christ, we believe that we shall also live with him. We know that Christ, raised from the dead, dies no more; death no longer has power over him.



-The Word of the Lord





   Katharina covered her eyes as the soldier slumped to the ground and the Colonel began laughing like a lunatic. Jessie wrapped an arm around her, giving her a bit of comfort.

“The old bastard’s losing his mind.” Jessie solemnly said as she slowly rubbed her arm. Katharina simply nodded, her head lifting slightly to check on Nick. Poor, poor Nick. She saw him gritting his teeth in pain as he grabbed his side and tried standing up.

“Hold on.” She pulled away from Jessie and jogged over to Nick, pushing her way through the small circle of people that had formed around him. Bending down, she lightly rested a hand on his back and held his arm as she helped him stand. Nick spit out blood, wiping his mouth with his arm after he did so. He turned to her, and even through the pain he must have been feeling, managed a grin.

“Thanks.” He croaked, stretching out and groaning as he stood up. Katharina frowned.

“What happened? Don’t go getting yourself killed…” She said as she put her finger up to her mouth and licked it. She brought it up to Nick’s eyebrow, wiping a bit of blood from it. Nick sighed, his eyes narrowing.

“He tried taking Jake…” Katharina’s head turned to the side as she wiped away more blood.

“What do you-” He cut her off.

“He tried to take him.” A look of disgust flashed across her face, and she was suddenly glad the patrol had been shot. She was glad Nick had tried stopping it, risking his life to do so. She leaned forward and hugged the former sniper, knowing that he must be feeling like shit after that beating.

“Everyone, back to their respectable hangars, now!” Taft roared as he walked over to them. Nick nonchalantly pulled away from her and took a single step forward, putting himself between Katharina and Taft. There seemed to be a certain aura around the Colonel as he approached. Something was cold, dark, and unforgiving about the man; he scared the hell out of her. Katharina took a step back, her worn sneaker kicking a small stone out of the way as she did so.

“That bullet was meant for you.” Taft pushed by Nick as he walked by.

“You heard the man, everybody clear out!” One of the soldiers yelled as he swept his rifle among the crowd, causing everybody to scurry away.

“Take care, Nick…” Katharina said. “You’re a good man.” She was pulled away by one of the soldiers, and shoved in the direction of her hangar. “Be safe!” She called out to Nick. He stood there, bruised and worn out, simply raising a hand and waving. She smiled as Jake emerged from the crowd,, running up to him and wrapping his arms around his waist. Katharina sighed as she turned around and walked over to Jessie, who was waiting for her as she leaned against the side of a Humvee.

“Friend of yours?” Jessie asked, her arms unfolding as she stood up and began walking beside her. She nodded.

“He was with us before we’d arrived here. You believe he was a cop before all this?” Jessie laughed.

“Oh, the police…” Katharina looked over at Jessie, whose head was looking at the ground as they continued walking.

“Hey Jessie… did they ever catch you?” She asked. Jessie looked up, her usual bright and cheery face was gone. A dark, lonely look was etched across her face.

“I called the station, and turned myself in.” She began, her pace slowing down a bit. “Thing is, the cops never showed up. When I went to call in again, the lines were dead. Could you believe, the day after I killed that cheating bastard, all this began?” She threw her hands up in the air as they entered the hangar. “Makes me wish I never took his life…”

“Why is that?” Katharina asked. Jessie looked over at her once more.

“I wanted that bastard to suffer like all of us are now in this never ending nightmare… he got the easy way out.”





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Tom’s ears were ringing, slight pops of gunfire could be heard in the distance. Though, he couldn’t tell how far. His whole body was numb, and he couldn’t feel a thing. Lights out, blackness consumed him.

The soldier groaned, opening his eyes slightly. He was seeing two of everything, yet heard nothing. Closing his eyes once more, darkness consumed him. Lights out.

Liquid flowed down it face, it was cool and refreshing. His arm wobbly shot up and his hand fell on his face. He pulled it back, seeing that his hand was red. Was that his blood? His eyes shut, lights out.

He felt his body being lifted from the ground. He murmured something which slipped his mind, and saw someone holding him up. Was it Kingston? Tom heard screaming; two people yelling back and forth. His vision was still seeing double, which caused his head to roll back. Lights out.

Private Tom Williams groaned, this time managing to sit up himself. He could hear just fine now, and wished he couldn’t. Gunfire and moans consumed the air. The stench of rotting flesh and gunpowder was making him gag with each breath he took. He blinked his eyes once, twice, three times. His eyes wouldn’t focus on anything, and that sensation of passing out began to hit him again.

This time, it didn’t. His eyes were tightly shut were he reached around the cockpit, trying to remember what had happened. His hands ran along his Taurus, still strapped his side. With his eyes still shut, he pulled the Velcro strap free and yanked the gun out.

Tom’s eyes slowly opened, taking in his surroundings. Kingston was leaning against roof of the cockpit, being as the chopper had turned on its side in the crash. One of his arms hung limp at his side, the sickly white color of bone glistening out of his forearm. In his good arm, he fired away at the new roof out of the helicopter, where hordes of shamblers were trying to claw their way in.

His head rolled over, seeing Reese curse are she blasted away at the front end of the chopper with an MP5. It was a slaughterhouse up from, mounds of corpses had piled up. Tom saw that Ace wasn’t anywhere to be seen, but the blood stains on his seat gave it away.

“He’s awake!” Kingston yelled as he unloaded his handgun. Each blast from the gun sent a wave of nausea over Tom. The shell casings flew out of the gun, one particular one rolled over to him. Tom numbly picked it up, not feeling the burn of the just-spent casing.

“Hey!” Reese shook him. “Snap out of it! We need to get out of here, and you’re not doing shit. Unless you want to become bait, start firing!” This took Tom by surprise. For such a small woman, she had a big mouth.

“I.. I’m charge here…” Tom mumbled, she didn’t hear him. Tom shakily reached into his vest and pulled out a small photo, it was the one of him and Katharina right before they’d arrived. He managed a weak smile, and wanted more than anything to see her again. He shook his head, took a deep breath, and raised his Taurus. Multiple faces glared back at him through an opening. Rotten hands ripped and tore as they tried pulling the metal further apart. He put the picture back in his vest, resting his hand on it for a moment before looking down the glowing sights of his gun. Tom grimaced, took aim, and fired.





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Barnes boot tapped nervously on the elevator floor, the dull click of his heel seemed to echo. The elevator slowly moved down each floor, making a slight beep each time it passed one. The closer they got to the first floor, the more audible gunfire became. Rex shifted uncomfortable, tightening his grip on the rifle. They had no idea what would be on the other side of those doors, and the thought of being enclosed in such a small space once those doors opened frightened him. Canned food.

He looked up, seeing that they were five floors away. Barnes gritted his teeth, preparing for whatever was on the other side of those doors.

“Everyone get ready.” He said, his eyes never leaving those doors. Guns cocked, magazines were checked. Barnes himself decided to pull out his half-spent magazine and swapped it out for a fresh one, sticking the half-empty one in his vest. Looking up, he saw that they were two floors away.

“Form a line!” He ordered, his voice seemed somewhat muffled in the enclosed space. They all shifted their positions, aiming their firearms at the doors. One floor away.

“Safeties off!” He switched his assault rifle into automatic. Dull clicks were heard as the others armed their weapons. The elevator slowed to a halt.

Ding!

They slid open, and saw dozens of the undead in the lobby, slowly turning around at the sound of the elevator opening.

“Fire!” His ears rang as the small group opened up. The staccato of gunfire boomed inside the enclosed space as Barnes took a few steps out, his finger held down on the trigger as he kept firing. Bodies collapsed as he swept his rifle left and right, their heads jerking as the rounds tore through them. Sanders’ Spas-12 exploded as he fired off all eight shots in rapid succession. With each shell ejected from the gun, groups of shamblers were blown off their feet, sliding across the tiled floor. Some stayed down, but most got back up.

“Out!” Sanders yelled over gunfire. He reached into his vest and began  pulling out shotgun shells, loading them into his gun. LaRouge cursed as a howler tackled him from the side.

“Aw, shit!” The pilot rolled with it, his sunglasses flying off as he kept the snapping jaws of death at bay. He came up on top, and stuck his handgun under its chin and pulled the trigger. The 9mm round exploded through the top of its head, and blasted through the kneecap of a shambler close by. The shambler moaned as it collapsed to the ground before it started crawling towards them. LaRouge picked up his aviators and tossed them back on his face before he began firing again.

“Let’s move!” Barnes ordered as he ejected an empty magazine. It clattered to the floor, and he left it there as Mathews stepped beside him, providing covering fire. He jogged forward, slapping in his last full magazine as he did so. He saw the downed helicopter, smashed up by the front lobby receptionist area. Barnes held up a hand as he slowed to a stop.

“Williams!” He cupped his hands around his mouth, letting the rifle dangle from his neck by the strap. The gunfire inside the wreckage stopped. “Williams! Withers!” Barnes yelled out. A zombie stumbled too close for comfort, he pulled his bowie knife from the sheath on his hip and jammed it through its temple. The shambler’s eyes rolled back as he rippled the knife out, the serrated edges tearing through it.

“We’re here, but almost out of ammo!” Tom finally called, Barnes grinned. Mathews and Sanders opened up, firing off a few shots at any shambler the stumbled too close.

“What the hell do we do, Sarge?” LaRouge asked, the handgun shaking in his hands as he swept it back and forth, holding his fire. Barnes narrowed his eyes, seeing a stairwell at the end of the lobby. He turned around, and saw a similar stairwell at the opposite end of the massive lobby. Maybe they connected…

“Sanders, give me your gun.” Sanders didn’t question him, and handed his Spas-12 over and pulled out his sidearm. Barnes strapped the gun over his shoulder. “Alright, I’m going to lure them away from the wreck. Once I’m gone, get them out of there. I’ll meet you by the elevators in five.” The men nodded. “Remember, we came through the right shaft.”

“Good luck…” LaRouge slapped him on the shoulder. Barnes turned away and ran down the lobby, weaving in and out of the dead.

“Hey!” He fired the assault rifle in the air as he ran, the shotgun slapping at his side. Debris fell from the ceiling as the rounds blasted it apart. “Come on, over here!” He fired another burst into the air. Most of the undead just stumbling around slowly began making their way towards him, while those already at the chopper stayed put.

“Shit.” He hissed, still backing away. His boot connected with a corpse, grabbing his attention. Barnes looked down and saw the remains of a police officer- and grinned when he saw what he was holding. He bent over and scooped up the megaphone, the dead officer’s fingers cracking as he pulled it free.

“HEY!” He voice echoed throughout the lobby. “OVER HERE YOU PUSSFUCKS!” The moans of the dead rose as he grabbed the rest of their attention, and most of them began stumbling after him. Barnes turned around, jogging towards the stairwell. He went by a corpse in an expensive looking suit clutching an open suitcase, stacks of bills spilling out of it. He actually laughed at this, the man’s greed for money had cost him his life.

“LET’S GO!” He saw his group making their way towards the wreck as he tossed the megaphone aside and raised his rifle. The gun jumped in his hands as he sprayed the crowd that had formed. He sprayed them from the hip, not even bothering to take aim. Rex didn’t need to kill them all, he just needed to buy them enough time to get the hell out. When his rifle clicked empty, he ejected the magazine and ran down the stairs, the dead close behind.

“Come on fucks!” He yelled over his shoulder. As he rounded the corner and ran down the last flight of stairs, his heart sank when he saw the long hall filled with the dead.

“Shit.” He turned around, and saw the dead already almost down the stairs. As a zombie snarled and stepped in front of him, he cracked the empty rifle across its face, taking it to the ground. Raising his boot, Barnes brought it down hard. There was a wet snap as he broke its neck and caved its skull in. Dark fluids flowed out of its head as he reached in his vest and pulled out his half spent magazine, the last of his ammo.

Slapping it in and switching the rifle to semi-auto, he began picking his shots as he walked forward. Heads exploded after each shot, his marksmanship still as good as ever. Back at basic training many years ago, he was at the top of his class.

When he was about halfway down the hall, the his rifle fired its last shot. He stopped, looking at the half dozen or so zombies between him and the next stairwell- and screamed as cold fingers wrapped around his neck. The rifle fell from his hands as he struggled with the zombie, and wasn’t able to shake it off.

“Mother fucker!” The shotgun dangled at his side, and was aimed behind him. Taking a chance and acting on a split-decision, he wrapped his hand around the trigger and fired.

“Ugh!” He gagged as the Spas-12 went off and ran forward, still feeling the wrapped around his neck. Spinning around, he gasped at just how many of the dead were behind him. Reaching his hand to his neck, Barnes grimaced as he pulled away a hand, severed when the shotgun blast blew the shambler back.

The shotgun jumped it his hands as he jogged forward, firing at the infected that stood in his way. His breathing slowed as he fired at a ravaged banker, sending him crashing through a pain of glass. The gun automatically pumped in his hands as he ran by, firing at a woman with her chest torn open. Her head exploded in a shower of gore as the gun pumped again and he ran by her before she even collapsed to the ground.

Barnes screamed as he fired again, blowing a basketball-sized hole in the stomach of another as the gun ejected its last shell. Barnes tossed the shotgun aside, pulling out his Bowie knife. The shambler’s arms were outstretched, drool spewing from its face as it snarled and charged at him. His grip tightened on the hilt, his breathing increasing as the distance between them lessened. The zombie raised its head and howled, blood leaking out of its eyes as it sprinted forward.

One shot, one chance, a million things that could go wrong.





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Private Mick Sanders loaded his last clip into his handgun, his hands trembling as he jammed it into the gun. Once it clicked, he slid the slide shut. They’d pulled Williams, Withers, and Kingston from the wreck. Ace was nowhere to be found, and the survivors weren’t talking about it. He’d decided it would be best to just not ask.

“Where the hell is he?” Reese asked, firing off a shot burst from her sub machinegun. While most of the dead had followed the Sergeant down the stairs, more kept stumbling in from the streets.

“He’s coming…” Williams said, eyes locked down at the stairs. Another zombie stumbled in from the hole in the building. Sanders raised his handgun, firing off a few shots until he scored a headshot.

“We need to go, now! He’s been gone too long!” Reese yelled, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear. The hairs on the back of Sanders neck stood up as a howl echoed throughout the lobby. He absolutely hated the screaming ones… they scared the shit out of him. During the first stages of the outbreak, he’d seen those screaming fucks rip a woman in half. They’d screamed the entire time before his team put them down. Sanders shivered, raising his handgun again as another shambler stumbled up. Before he could fire, Reese took care of it for him.

“Go!” They all turned around, Sanders grinning as he saw Sergeant Barnes sprinting towards them, a gore soaked Bowie knife in his hands. “Open the doors!” At least a hundred of the dead followed close behind.

“Got it!” Sanders yelled, turning around and running to the elevators. He stopped in front of them, cursing as he forgot which they’d come through. The right? Or the left…

“Doesn’t matter.” He picked the left, deciding that it didn’t really matter. Barnes screamed something, but the words were lost as Reese opened up with her gun. Sanders turned around as Barnes waved his arms back and forth.

Ding!

“Wha- No!” Sanders gun slipped from his fingers as a dozen hands pulled on him at once. The Private screamed as the undead pulled him back into the elevator with them. He kicked and cursed as rotten hands blurred his vision. His cries became wet gurgles as they tore into him, the yellow teeth ripping into his skin. Private Sanders let out a wet yelp as a shambler plunged its thumb into his eye, pulling it out and shoving it into its mouth, still attached by the nerve. As his stomach was ripped open and his throat was torn out, Sanders last thought was that he should have paid more attention.