Chapter 4

It wasn't long before I started to see the effects of what Dale was talking about. Before I even made it back into the city I seen it.

      Cars were piled up on the opposite side of the highway. People were fighting each other to get out of the city. Windshields were broken. Blood was shed. Lives were lost.

     I seen a few of the 'undead', if that's even what they can be considered. As I started to come into the city I began to realize that this isn't just some simple sickness.

     Stores had been raided. Cars nothing but burnt remains. The streets were littered with blood stains, dead bodies.

     Some whole, and some... not. So much death and dismay almost makes me happy that Lauren isn't here to see it.

     As I continue to drive down the highway the world just dives further into chaos. The streets now lit with fires from cars and a few buildings. Ash and smoke beginning to rise. As I make my way down the winding street the radio crackles to live.

     "Jack, you copy?" Asked the chief.

    "Copy"

     "Thank God, I made it into the city, Dale was right."

     "I know, chief. I'm driving through it right now. It looks like the end of the goddamn world."

      "Thats what this is, Jack. I made it home and the first thing I did was turn on the news. All the major cities went down. They had reports of the dead coming back to life. The president has asked everyone to stay inside."

     "Dead coming back to life? What the fuck, like zombies?"

     "I don't know. I think it may be a good idea for us to get out of the city, though."

     "Where are you, chief?"

      "I'm at my house still, I locked the doors and turned the lights off. They attracts 'them'." He paused.

      "Speaking of them, one of those fuckers scratched me. I was trying to save this girl from an overturned car. I distracted two of the them but a third one came out of nowhere and scratched me from my elbow down to my wrist."

      My heart drops. Not another one, not another friend.

     "Are you okay, chief?"

      "Yeah, I'm good. It just bled like a mother fucker."

      "I have to stop by my house first, then I'll be on the way, over and out."

     "I step on it. Chief is the only person left important to me that hasn't died. A pack of the undead run through the streets. Their rabid shrieking crescendos as I pass them. They try to run after me but it proves pointless.

     I pull into my driveway and put the car in park. I leave the engine running just in case I need to get out here quick.

     I unlock the door to my house and run in. I go to my closet and grab the duffle bag from the shelf on top. I throw clothes into it, not caring to fold them.

      I go to the bathroom and throw my toothbrush and toothpaste in it. I snap my head back and forth making sure I got everything. My eyes stop on the picture of Lauren. I stand there and stare for what seems like hours. Fighting myself to leave the picture.

      I take the picture out of the mirrors frame and kiss her. One last time. I slide the picture back into the frame and walk out of the bathroom.

     I zip the duffle bag, and walk out of my room. I enter the living room and go to the coffee table. I open the drawer on it and grab my 45. ACP. I grab the holster and slide it into it and clip it to my belt.

     I grab the box of ammo, throw it in the side flap of the duffle bag, I also pick up the tactical knife that Dale bought me for my year anniversary of being at the precinct.

     I begin the slow walk to my door. Memories of buying this house with Lauren begin to flood my mind.

     I pass the floor mat that she begged to have put in the hallway leading to the living room. I thought it was so stupid, but she loved it so I bought it for her.

     Pushing the thought from my mind I walk outside and close the door to my house. I lock the door and get back into my car and pull out of my driveway for what might be the last time.

     I begin the drive to chiefs house. He lives about thirty minutes from me, right passed the high school.

     The road is littered with parts of cars, pieces of bodies, and a few baseball bats or make shift weapons here and there. The city is gone.

     It happened so fast, in the few hours that I was at the crime scene all hell broke loose over here. The high school looks terrible. A bus crashed through the gymnasium.

     A fire is blazing on one of the upper floors. That's when something catches my eye. On the bottom floor close to the entrance a light is flashing. On and off.

     Three fast flashes, three long flashes and then three fast flashes again. That's when it hits me. Morse code. It's an SOS.

     I pull into the parking lot and pull the shotgun from the back. I cut the engine and walk to the front door of the school. I slowly open the door and walk in.

     The floor is littered with paper and glass. Lockers are open and books strewn about. I open the nearest door to my left to see if the kid was in there, but there was nothing but tables.

     I risk it and call out, "Hey, kid! Wherever you are, make it known!" Silence follows for a few seconds and then I hear a girl cry out.

     "I'm on the second floor! Be careful, three were chasing me!" Shrieks follow the sound of her cry for help.

     I sprint, my legs pumping back and forth. My eyes darting from either side of the hallway, searching for a sign pointing to stairs. As I'm nearing the end of the hallway I see it.

     I make a sharp left and sprint as fast as I can. I take the steps 3 at a time and bust through the door at the top. I shoulder the shotgun, preparing for anything to jump at me.

     The floor, as far as I can see, is void of the living and the undead. God. The undead is actually something that has to implemented into my vocabulary now. "Where at on the second floor!?" I call out.

     "Science room at the end of B hall." Is all she said. Shrieks piece the air once more, but this time closer to me.

     Out of a nearby classroom three of the undead stumble. As soon as they see me they begin to sprint, their legs moving in awkward directions, like the muscles and joints aren't working in unison.

     I send buckshot through the first ones head, he drops to the ground and slides. The second one trips over him. While it's struggling to get up I line the sights up with the third. I shoot and it takes the entire top half of its head off.

     The top half smacks the ground. It's body continues to sprint a few feet and then falls to the ground. The second of the undead climbs back to its feet. It charges for me.

     I grab the shotgun by the barrel and side step and swing the stock like a baseball bat across the front of its face as hard as I can.

     It legs continue to move forward but the upper half of its body falls down. It hits the ground with a thump.

     The portion of its face above the nose it smashed in. It's orbital sockets nothing but bone powder. One eyeball liquified upon impact and was oozing down the side of its head. The other bulging, looking ready to pop at any given moment.

     Even after that tremendous hit, it still tries to get up. I bring the stock down on its head and that one does it.

     I make my way to B hall and find the science room at the end of the hall. I open the door and say "don't attack, I'm not here to hurt you."

     "Come in, hurry." She whispers, frantically.

     She's a high school student. She's got red hair, freckles and she's wearing a cheerleading uniform. She's carrying a broken broom handle, the broken end already covered in blood.

     "Do you know of anyone else in need of help?" I ask.

     "I don't think so. I've been here ever since this morning, I haven't heard anything." She looks at the ground. "There was more students with me. They didn't make it." She bursts into tears, clearly they were important to her.

     "It's okay, I'm gonna get you out of here and we'll find your parents." She nods, and gives a faint smile.

     A horrible cacophony splits the air. The sound of several feet come pounding from the hall.

     "Shit. They must have followed the gunshots." The girl whimpers. She's falling into shock. "Hey, look at me."

     I walk up and put a hand on her shoulder and give a reassuring smile. "We're gonna be fine, do you know how to fire a gun?" I ask.

     "My dad taught me when I was little, but it's been a while."

     "That's okay, it's like riding a bike, you never forget." I hand the shotgun to her. "It's got 4 shells left. You shouldn't have to fire one, I'll lead them away from the door. Outside there is a BMW parked. The door is open, once you make it outside get in and hide."

     "Okay, I'll try."

     "You'll make it, and I'll be right behind you, I promise."

     She nods. I walk to the door the foot steps are getting closer. "After I run out wait at least five minutes then make a run for it."

     I unholster my .45 and open the door. I step into the hallway and see the source of the noise. A pack of the undead, a quick headcount shows eleven.

     One spots me and emits a blood curdling shriek. The rest of their heads snap in my direction and the chase begins.

     I spin and sprint down the hallway, the sounds of their blood thirsty moans making my legs pump faster. I take a sharp right and run a few feet forward. I turn around and wait for the first of the undead to pass the corner.

     The warrior side of me, the side that the Iraqis seen, the blood thirsty killer was beginning to show his ugly smile. The adrenaline flowing through me is enough to give a full grown bull a heart attack. I love it.

     The first one sprints awkwardly around the corner. In seconds I have the shot lined up and send a bullet between his eyes. 7 rounds left.

     The second one trips over the falling first. Mid-fall I send a bullet into the top of its head. 6 rounds left. Two others slide into the turn, two more died. 4 rounds left.

    The other seven of the pack come around the corner at the same time. Too many to handle at once. I turn around and try to give myself some space. They begin to sprint, desperate for the taste of my flesh.

     An open door is coming up on my left, I sprint faster, trying to make it to what may be my safe haven. I sprint in and slam the door behind me.

     A fucking janitors closet. I'm trapped in a fucking janitors closet. I put my back against the wall and face the door.

     The door rattled in its frame. The hinges whining, begging the screws to pop loose to relieve them of the weight pounding just inches away from me on the other side.

     Their guttural screams and throaty growls splitting the air as they struggled to fulfill their one and only need. To consume the flesh of the living. This shitty janitors closet is not going to save me from their hands and teeth.

     The wood at the bottom of the door is beginning to splinter. I unholster my .45 ACP and unload the clip.

     "Great. 4 rounds." I say to myself in dismay. Seven of the undead followed to this janitors closet. No telling how many followed sounds of their incessant shrieks.

     A long crack runs up the middle of the door. The door begins to bulge even further inward now. As if they knew the door was giving. I pull back the slide of my .45. My hearts pounding, sending adrenaline through my veins.

     The crack grows in length. Screws from the top hinge begin to fall to the ground. The bulge reaches further inward. The door gives.

     I let out a war cry and unsheathe my tactical knife and hold it under the .45 so my hands are crossed at the wrist. The blood thirsty killer in me feeding my rage.

     I send a bullet through one of their heads and it goes through the eye of one behind it.

     They fall to the ground. One comes too close and I stab it through the temple and use it as a shield, I put my firing arm on its shoulder and shoot another.

     The last three screech as they try and get into the closet. They push and I lose my balance, I fall backwards into the wall.

     My firing arm pinned between the wall and the body of the zombie I was using as a shield. I pull my knife out it's head, it makes a sloshing noise. Blood seeps from the wound.

     I send the knife into its neck and begin slicing. The other three zombies struggling to get their hands and teeth on me. They begin to shriek louder. Their meal is so close now.

     The anger in my rises. The head of the zombie pinning me begins to lean enough for me to get the hand holding the knife out. I sink the knife into the eye of the nearest zombie.

     It's lifeless body falls against the dead zombie pinning me. One of the other two grabs my wrist. Time slows as I struggle to pull my arm out of its death grip.

     I try as hard as I can to free my firing arm but the dead weight of two carcasses is too much. I will not die trapped in a god forsaken janitors closet.

     I rip my arm away from the zombie just as its beginning to open its mouth. I slide one of my knees up and pin it against the pelvis of the zombie holding me against the wall, with all the strength I have I push against the body.

     It begins to lift a little off of me. Enough for me to slip my other knee against its upper thigh.

     The warrior inside me screams, or maybe that was me screaming. My firing arm slips out and I fire the last two rounds into its ugly ass face.

     It falls backwards. I drop one knee and prepare myself to move out of the way when I drop my other one. As soon as my foot hits the ground I jump to my left, the bodies hit the wall.

     My knife gets stuck in the stomach of the one that was pinning me and I had to let it go or risk my arm getting pinned.

     The last zombie charges forward and I catch it just before it sinks its teeth into my shoulder. These mother fuckers have so much strength.

     I push him back just enough for me to stumble over the bodies of the undead to get out of the janitors closet. I turn right and stop dead in my tracks. I'm looking down the barrel of a twelve gauge.

     "Get down!" The red headed girl that I saved shout. I duck and the shotgun goes off. I feel the blast of air go through my hair, my ears immediately start ringing.

     I stand up and turn around. The zombie was flat on its back with nothing but it's bottom jaw remaining. Impressive. I walk back into the janitors closet, retrieve my knife and smile at the girl.

     "You know, I never got your name."

     "Cassie." She says and smiles.

     "Well, Cassie, I guess that makes us even then, doesn't it?"

     "I think it does..." She looked at me, waiting for my name.

     "Jack, you can call me Jack"

     "I think it does, Jack."

     The warrior in me starts to go quiet. The civil part of Jack Stanley comes back into the light.

     I think it's time for us to get out of here, what do you think?" I ask.

     Yeah, I'd say so." She smiles and leads me to the exit of the school. It's completely dark outside. The only light is from a flickering street lamp down the road.

     It feels like it's been years since this morning. So much has happened in just a few hours. We get into the car and I start the engine. The gas light is on.

     "Well, shit." I say.

     "What is it?"

     "Looks like we're going to have to stop and get gas."

     "Oh, this should be fun." She says, sarcastically.

      I put the car in drive and we set off to the nearest gas station.