Chapter 14

Chapter 14

A few days passed. Mike’s condition had been getting worse as the days, hours, ticked by. They needed to get him real medical help, or his health could really be at risk. Nick parted a set of blinds with his finger and looked outside, more and more of the undead had been roaming around the neighborhood lately. As each day passed, it seemed to be more and more dangerous outside. Nobody really listened in on the CB radio except for Nick. It’d become his sort of passion, obsession. Besides the few transmissions from the unknown group of survivors with the chopper, he’d also been traumatized by a frantic call for help yesterday. It sounded like a young woman. Nick had been about to turn off the radio when a garbled transmission came through. He strained to hear what she was saying through her sobs, but in the background he heard the hungry moans of the dead and sporadic gunfire. Before he could get her location the broadcast ended abruptly, the screams of the dying heard in the background just as he lost the signal.

Nick grimaced as he watched as a middle-aged man in a bathrobe stumbled on the front lawn. He was missing a slipper and his jugular had been torn out. Blood and gore was encrusted all over the once white rob. As much as he hated the undead, he was sort of thankful that no more of riled up ones were out and about. Looking back outside, Nick jumped as the man suddenly looked over in his direction, his eyes clouded over, arms outstretched and clutching at the air. A wet, gurgling sound emitted from its throat as he stumbled forward. His hands tightened on M21 he held. His former occupation as sniper made it his preferred weapon of choice. He wasn’t too keen on an automatic, when he fired, he wanted to make each shot count.

Nick was about to head outside and clear the street when suddenly the shambler in the robe stopped. The man sluggishly turned around, facing the street. The dozen or so other zombies in or around the street also faced towards the street. Nick squinted his eyes, trying to see what had them distracted. What the hell?

Screeching tires were heard next as an old banged up ram charger rounded the corner. Bullet holes riddled the side of the white vehicle, three howlers were close behind it, screaming in rage. Nick could see two people in the truck, both men. The driver swerved to the right as a group of undead congested the road, sideswiping one in the process as it crashed through a lawn and into a house. Nick was transfixed in fear as the two men kicked their doors open as the undead immediately began their relentless pursuit, their moans of hunger sending a chill through his spine. Both of them were dressed in civilian clothes, the driver wearing a wrinkled plaid button down shirt and ripped jeans, his passenger a t-shirt and shorts. Both looked malnourished.

“Mother fuckers!” The driver yelled as he pumped his shotgun and blasted the man in the bathrobe in the gut. He flew across the lawn, a large hole in his stomach, but immediately got right back up, red drool coming out of his mouth. Its insatiable hunger keeping it going, pushing the host’s body to its very limits. The man riding shotgun brandished a pistol as he began firing wildly at the three howlers, all of his shots hit, but none were headshots. He screamed as he was slammed against the ram charger as the closest howler tackled him into it, his head cracking the window. The howler snarled as its head snapped forward and ripped off the man’s cheek, his cries for help going uncalled as the two others joined in on the feast. Nick snapped out of his trance.

“Hey…” His eyes were transfixed on the carnage outside. “Hey, we got company!” Nick cried out as he stepped away from the window and ran for the front door, another shotgun blast was heard from outside as he unlocked it and ran outside, the M21 trembling in his hands. The driver was blasting the shotgun left and right, the undead encircling him. He raised the rifle, looking through the scope for a second before blasting one of the shamblers back to hell. The driver hesitated for a split second, looking for the source of gunfire. In that split second of his vulnerability, one of the howlers emerged from behind the truck, fresh blood covered his face.

“Get down!” Nick screamed at the panic-stricken survivor, the powerful rifle aimed right at him. Before the driver could react, the howler sank its teeth into his neck. Nick cursed as he sighted the howler, the flesh dangling from its cracked lips. Their eyes meant briefly before Nick put a slug between them. The survivor fell to the ground, writhing in pain. Nick’s rifle jumped three more times in his hands as three more undead collapsed, a bullet lodged in each of their heads.

“Get the fuck out here!” Nick screamed as he turned his head towards the house- then let out a surprised yelp as the shambler in the bathrobe snuck up on him. Bits and pieces of flesh dripped from its chest cavity, the shotgun blast created a basketball-sized hole. A large piece of intestine flopped about as Nick swung his rifle around just as its ice cold fingers grabbed him by the shoulders and tackled him to the ground. Bringing the M21 up under the shambler’s neck, it was the only thing keeping it at bay. He grunted as he reached down to his hip holster and pulled out the .44.

“Help meeeee-” Nick looked over as the survivor’s screams were cut short as three of the undead began ripping into him. Looking back at the zombie that had him pinned down, he winced as its head exploded outward. Pushing the corpse off him and quickly getting to his feet, he saw Katharina lower her .32 and Tom storming out of the house with a rifle, the kid close behind. At the back of his mind he wondered where Mike could be, but that didn’t matter now.

“What the hell’s going on?” Tom asked as he trained his rifle on a pair of undead that reached the driveway and took them out.

“You tell me.” Nick grumbled as he regained his footing. He glanced over, hoping that the survivor had somehow managed to scurry away, and quickly looked away and regretted it when he saw one of his killers peeling the skin off his face with jagged fingernails. Looking back at the old ram charger, he noticed a few of the undead banging up against it, leaving bloody smears on the windows. Yet, the completely ignored the corpses of the two men.

As Tom and Katharina open fired on the advancing horde, Nick peered through his scope. Looking between two zombies that thrashed about against the truck, he saw movement inside. A hand reaching up, as if trying to grab something.

“There’s someone still inside…” Nick breathed. With new adrenaline now flowing through his body, he fired at the two undead banging on the truck. Both of their heads exploded as the side window of the truck cracked open as it was splattered with gore and the rounds passing through.

“Hey kid, take this.” Nick shoved the rifle into Jake’s hands. His eyes went wide as a questionable look flashed across his face. Before he could object, Nick sprinted toward the old truck, the large revolver already in his hands. He dodged to the right as cracked fingernails slashed the air where he was standing just a moment before, a frustrated moan escaped from the ghoul as nick collided with another, knocking it to the ground. A grunt came out of him as he stumbled forward, not stopping for an instant.

Up ahead, two zombies ripped into the torso of the man with the shotgun. Wet, squishing noises were heard with each bitch out of the man’s intestines. A third zombie tore away at his leg, the white of bone glistening in the sun. Nick completely disregarded them as he jumped over the feast and reached the truck. As he grabbed the door handle and swung it open, he was shocked to see a national guardsmen lying in the back, a gunshot wound in his chest. His desert tan uniform was soaked in blood around the wound. The man was desperately trying to grasp onto a pistol, but it kept slipping from his fingers from the blood that covered his hands.

“I’m going to get you out of here.” Nick assured him as he grabbed the man’s pistol and threw his arm around his neck. The soldier coughed up blood as Nick pulled him out of the wreck and into the street. His group kept the horde of undead at bay as they shakily made their way towards the house.

“Don’t… d-don’t g-go…” The soldier stuttered his words as he tried to talk. Nick lifted the man’s pistol and blasted a zombie in the face as it got too close.

“Open the door!” Nick yelled as they reached the porch. Tom cursed as he reloaded and slapped a fresh magazine in the gun. Jake and Katharina made their way to the door and opened it, following them inside. Tom fired off a final few rounds before following and slamming the door shut, locking it. Nick brought the soldier into the kitchen and laid him down on the table as the pounding began at the front door. They didn’t have much time.

“Bastards…” The soldier cursed. “Those… those f….ucking bastards…” Tom was the first to speak up.

“Who are you? What happened?” Nick shot a glance over at Tom as he leaned in close to the dying man. The National Guardsman sighed as he touched his wound and winced.

“Taft d-did me in…” He chuckled and his chest heaved as he coughed up more blood.

“Whose Taft?” Nick asked. The soldier took a deep breath and exhaled, his eyes glazing over, dead.

“Shit.” Tom said as he looked away, Nick did the same. Just another doomed soul in a doomed world.

“Hey…” Nick began. “Where the hell is Mike?”



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



2 hours earlier...

Mike cursed in pain as he tossed an empty painkiller bottle away. It made a clacking noise as it hit the wall and rolled away. He lifted the sheet and looked down, his bandages were soaking through with blood. The bleeding won't stop...

"Why do brothers always have to die?" He said to nobody in particular. He couldn't believe that he made it out of the city of the damned, only to be killed by infection.

"I ain't goin' out like that man, no way..." Mike sat up very slowly, wincing as it felt like his wound ripped. The warmth of his own blood flowed down his chest, staining the white linens. He grabbed a bottle of sleeping medication from the bag Tom brought back. Twirling it around in his blood encrusted hand, he gave a long sigh.

He was never really one to fear death, yet now, being so close to it, he began feeling light headed. Well, that could also be from the blood loss.

"Either way it don't matter..." He grabbed a bottle of whiskey he kept hidden under the bed.

"My time is up, peace out bitches."



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



“Mike!” Nick called as he took the stairs two at a time. “Hey, Mike!” He was beginning to panic as he ran to the guest room and threw the door open. Mike was lying on the bed, the end of a joint on an end table next to him… along with an empty bottle of sleeping pills. Nick slowly entered the room, burying his face in his hands as he kneeled down at the bed, a small piece of paper catching his attention.


-Sorry guys


Nick sighed as he checked for a pulse, already knowing he wouldn’t find one. Katharina gasped as she entered the room, turning to Tom for comfort. Jake stopped beside Nick, then pulled up the white bed sheet over Mike’s face. The teen was becoming years ahead of his time. A loud cracking noise was heard downstairs as the undead relentlessly pounded against the door.

“We need to leave.”