Post by MrKill on Sept 13, 2014 3:45:27 GMT -6
So, today, I sat down and looked at my brother playing the PS3. I thought to myself, 'What would he do to entertain himself if this was three years into the future and a zombie-like plague had hit humanity.?' - This is the result. The characters are literally my little brother, my and my grandma surviving in my previous house I lived in (Security sake, really... >_>). I hope you guys enjoy this, as I'm going to let my brother read - and because he likes first person more than third person it's effectively one of the few times I have written this way.
I was originally going to post this as a story for SuperCommando's Helloween content, but I decided against it because I have another concept on the drawing board for that. Anyways, as I said, I hope you guys enjoy the read. It's a WIP and the story will be based about a unfortunate run to destination - but you'll have to read to find that out. Small spoiler.
I examined the voice recorder I had set up on the table and shook my head. I wondered to myself a while ago why I was doing it, but I knew now. The world had gone to shit nearly a year ago and nothing could have changed that - but events needed to be recorded. Humanities legacy, if that meant anything. I sighed slightly, pressed the recorders 'record' button and spoke: "Day three hundred and... fifty three.' I said, stopping for a moment to recollect the events of the day. "The gas station across the street is on fire now, I suspect there will be an explosion within the next couple of hours if my original assumptions - that fuel was still in the tanks below - are correct. Yet, it continues to burn so I question the accuracy of that self claim."
I stopped to look over at Devan, my little brother. He was now ten years old, almost eleven. I was trying to raise him without a mother, without a father and without siblings. It was just him and me versus the world now. "Devan," I said. "Come say hello, tell people about your day."
I watched as Devan sunk into the couch in disappointment, but he didn't complain... much. "Do I have to?" He asked.
"Yes," I replied. "You do. What if one day mom finds these tapes and comes looking for us?" I added.
My little brother sighed explosively and approached the table. "My name is Devan, I am ten years old now. My day was boring. Bye."
I chuckled a little bit and stopped the recording. A year ago we were sitting in this very house doing YouTube videos for a living, now we were surviving. The house wasn't exactly defend-able, but I had managed to make it work. My deceased step dad was a construction worker and always brought home extra pieces of wood periodically over the three years I knew him. Unfortunately, he died trying to save my mother... who had to flee with my aunt because it was the only option. My grandma was also here, but she was very ill and spent most of her days resting upstairs.
"Have you checked on grandma?" I asked Devan.
"Yes, she needs her medicine." Devan replied.
I sighed once more. The pharmacy I had been looting had become the home to a group of bandits. I didn't have a lot of ammo, so I had to find another alternative. Two years ago I got my firearms control license and bought two .45 Caliber handguns based off the classic design of the M1911 used in world war two. Now, that same handgun had become my lifeline when I was outside scavenging for supplies and food... but I could never find ammo.
"I'll have to go out later today, Devan, and get her some. When I lea-" I begun to say before my brother stopped me.
"I know what to do, Zach." He said. A tear ran down my eye and I silently wished I could have raised him differently over the year. I nodded in response, gave him a swift hug and double checked the defense I had set up. The main windows were barricaded with a duel set of wood planks - from the outside and the inside - and was completed with a trap I had set up. In the event one of the wood planks fell off a can of gasoline would fall, ignite a Zippo lighter, and hopefully burn the intruder to death.
The main doors were heavily barricaded by a couch, wooden planks and steel sheets. The basement had a small window that I forged metal bards into the buildings cement foundations. The only window I had to worry about now was the kitchen window, but it was pretty high up. I only had to worry about the jumpers, but they were few and far between. During the day is when we were most active, and during the night is when the house fell prey to the darkness. The howls of the infected, the crashing and occasional screaming from survivors or a screamer frightened us all. During the light we fled into the master bedroom up stairs, where I had made the most heavier modifications to the door.
That door was like a castle entrance.
I walked up the stairs, leaving Devan downstairs with my M1911 and the magazine. I had trained him how to use it, how to respect it and how to take care of it. I trusted Devan, relied on him to protect the house while I was gone. The majority of the ammo was in the master bedroom, but our cases had rapidly deleted as I ran on supply runs on my bike. We had gotten low, only four magazines left for both guns. That meant we only had fourteen rounds to share each... but secretly I put the rest of my ammo into Devan's ammunition case. I only had four rounds in my pistol.
"Grandma?"
Her wheezy breath frightened me as I entered the room. "Yes?"
"Can I get you anything?" I asked. My grandma had been suffering from multiple diseases that were classed into a category called 'Dystonia'. I had to get her a new medication that came out in 2016 so she could fight it. When we had the medicine, my grandma was more than well enough to do what we considered every day life now. Without them, though, she struggled severely.
"I'm going to head out and find you your medicine." I said. I was looking for Aspextria Baclofen, a funky name that no one could forget. It was the one drug to solve what my grandma had, and fortunately it wasn't very popular to raiders and bandits. I had traded my Ventolin inhaler for two cases at the Wal-Mart pharmacy a couple of weeks after the infection hit my city.
It wasn't immediate. It took sixty or so days for the infection to spread out of Mexico, but they quickly swarmed over Central United States and by day one hundred ninty Canada had fallen. From what I knew, the US Military and what was left of the Canadian Military had successfully managed to keep the infected localized to central US and continental Canada. The costs, for now, were clear. I had heard reports the Vancouver Island was now a thriving community for survivors, defended by both the Canadian and American Navies. Hawaii had more population than Canada had during its prime (33 Million) and other islands with towns, cities and communities had begun to accept refugees.
The eastern continents were in the same mess, so survivors couldn't just flee to Russia... And that started a war, but I didn't know anything about that. I had only seen the flash of what I assumed was a nuclear detonation high in the sky about a month ago. Regardless, I had a job to do now.
"Zach," Devan called from downstairs. "There's a zombie trying to get in from the front."
I rushed downstairs and collected by brother into my arms and carried him upstairs almost instinctively, like it had been programmed every time he feared that the zombie would break through. Truth be told, it never happened. But I always rushed to his aid, it was both a redeeming quality and a huge weakness at the same time. I knew that, if a zombie had gotten to my brother, I'd happily die next or with him as he turned. I'd commit murder, then suicide so we both didn't have to live without one another.
In a way, I found myself as a father figure to my little brother. I didn't think as an older brother, I thought as I would if he were my kid. Call me over protective, but it kept us alive for the last couple of months while I fortified our fortress. I returned downstairs to examine the defense I had constructed. Obviously, it was holding well. I swept the main floor, and continued to the basement when I was satisfied.
After my examination of the house the zombie had lost interest in the door and wondered away, or at least I assumed. With the windows completely boarded it was fairly dark inside, and thus I couldn't see outside. The only light on the main floor was providing from the stair well leading to upstairs and the main doors small window at the top of its frame. The kitchen window also provided some light through the meager defenses I had put up. The basement was completely dark at all times.
Upstairs I had only lightly boarded the windows from those zombies that could reach those heights. Jumpers frequently smashed through top windows to devour the survivors hiding within the house. They typically caught them by surprise, but I refused to be taken the same way as my friends who thought they were safe with impressive base defenses. Mitchell died because he was arrogant. I was not.
"It's okay, Devan." I replied.
My grandma appeared at the stairs, a look of pain on her face. It appeared the spell had passed, for now. I recoiled in happy surprise as she smiled and entered the bathroom. I heard her open the window and dump the waste out the window like it was times of ancient. Fortunately, the smell of human waste pushed the zombies away. I considered it a... natural defense that we produced.
I waited for a moment and sat down on the first stair to see how she was doing. When she left the bathroom she held onto Devan's shoulders. "Zach," she said. "I'm okay."
"I know," I replied. "I'm still going to go get your medicine."
My grandma knew that, in my stubborn ways, she couldn't convince me otherwise. I also had to get some canned food. We had a supply, but we were running low. For the first time in a long time I was returning to the Wal-Mart I had stopped visiting. I knew it would be dangerous, and I knew that it was. There would be infected. Why? People fled to places that were most common during initial outbreak at my city. Grocery stores, the military reserve base and hospital were common places. The 'north side' Wal-Mart that I used to trade for my grandmas medication was eventually used as a military evacuation outpost. The parking lot was littered with abandoned military vehicles.
From what I could recall, it was only ground vehicles. The evacuation of my city was purely an infantry level scale. The airforce was focused in Calgary, a city of one million. My city of eight hundred thousand received a battalion strength infantry unit to proceed with vehicular evacuation. Obviously it failed. There were four military evacuation zones, all overrun now. Both Wal-Mart parking lots, the reserve base and the college. Near the college was the Enmax center, a local hockey arena that served as the military operations center.
What was left of that battalion fled the city in what ever they could as the infected overwhelmed the survivors. Ironically, most of the infected inside my city were on their way to a town about an hour away. Sometimes I swore I could hear explosions in the distance. This town was seventy seven kilometers away, and just fifteen minutes from the US boarder. From what I had heard on the radio before it stopped was that the US Army and Canadian Army were working together at that location to get people from Canada towards the coasts.
I snapped out of my stupor and looked back up at my grandma, "What?" I asked.
She laughed slightly. "I know you will. I'll watch Devan, I'm okay for now." She repeated. I nodded in response and grabbed my sidearm I left downstairs. I slid the magazine in and chambered the round. I went into the kitchen and slid open the window. I crawled through the gap between wooden boards and closed it on my way out. I climbed down the 'stairs' I had assembled, which was a BIF bin. Zombies couldn't get up, but I could. I dropped down and immediately scanned my environment.
As I predicted Vera, my neighbor in number four in my condo, waived from her window and dropped a piece of paper. I walked over it cautiously and picked it up. Vera was a disabled lady who could barely walk, let alone support herself in this environment. Vera was elderly, too. She had lost everything when the infection started. I boarded her home up tightly and ran scavenging runs for her.
I read the piece of paper. She needed some toilet paper. I laughed and nodded, and she smiled and slid her window closed. Quite honestly, I had developed a little community here. All though the condo was large, forty two condos total, only two were populated. I had readied another two condos for people but I could never find survivors. None, by none I meant none. Not even ones who would try to shoot at you and take your gear. Like always, there were always those rumors around the mill on the radio. Bandits taking supplies off survivors. I questioned how many of murdered survivors were fending for families. How many kids, infant or not, were abandoned because they simply killed the provider. It disgusted me, but that was the way the world lived now.
And in a way, I was prepared to do it as well.
I took a breath and headed into the condo parking lot, crossed the street and begun down the first of three back alleys. I had a bike at the last one, hidden behind an abandon car so I didn't have to walk the entire way. The first alley had a school playground, the school my brother went to before 'shit hit the fan'. I stopped for a moment and remembered days we'd play at the park. I thought then, at that very point, that I'd bring him back to the playground so he could have some fun once more. He was a kid, not an adult. The playground was a perfect place, and wasn't in the open either. A small hill concealed an approach and the alley I was walking through concealed the rest from the main road. Zombies rarely took alleys.
There was another park, probably safer, behind our condo in the middle of a bike trail that was never used. I had used this route a dozen times to get from destinations, and I relied on it. I decided that I'd take him to that one first and smile satisfactorily as my brother laughed for the first time. The first genuine laugh, that is. I tried to do what I could to entertain him, and kept a rather powerful solar powered generator going so he could play video games during the day in his room with the volume muted or low.
Yes, video games. We had a solar powered generator on the roof, with cables that ran directly into his room, powering his entertainment. In a way, some of the zombie games he played were learning tools I hoped he actually learned on. I walked forward, and through the first alley. I crossed the road, scanning left and right, and into the second alley. It wasn't long before I was at the third one, on my bike, and on the way to the Wal-Mart.
By the time I arrived I truly knew how fucked the military was. I looked on at the overcrowded parking lot. Soldiers in their equipment, both heavily armed and lightly armed. Others in their fatigues, and civilians mixed in between. I swore, it would take a miracle to clear out the parking lot. How am I in the right to be surprised? I asked myself, questioning my ignorance. I stopped thinking and cleared my mind. There were other places to scavenge, but I knew there would be medicine inside the store. I also knew it was going to be dark, dangerous and suicidal.
So I pressed forward, walking in between the destroyed chain link fence and weaving between buildings and cover in an attempt to stay out of sight. The parking lot to the left, just outside of the evacuation zone, was laden with vehicles. Police cars, ambulances, fire-trucks and normal vehicles were all intertwined together. I used them for cover and easily made my way to the front entrance of the most left entrance to the super store. I produced my flashlight and cleared my throat silently. The infected tended to swarm together, so it was a fairly safe bet that the majority of the infected were along the left side of the store.
I dared myself, then willed myself to enter. Upon entering I rushed towards a check out lane, slid to a stop and took a breather. I produced my inhaler and took a puff, knowing I'd need the relief if I made to much noise. I clicked my flashlight in and sent the beam barreling through the darkness. I illuminated sections of the store and eventually started softly walking down the paths.
For a moment, I thought everything would be okay, but I immediately disregarded that as my flashlight illuminated a dozen zombies. I snapped the torch off and slid along the floor into a clothing rack. Obviously, with no washing machine, my clothes smelled like a dead person. Infected humans, however, didn't use the sense of smell. They relied on a poor eye sight and decent hearing.
I hid for what felt like ten minutes, and left the cloth rack I had taken refuge in. I had memorized the store, and silently walked down the walkways towards my brothers personal favorite section: The video games. Since the store had been a place of military protection, looting wasn't very popular. However, before the military arrived, it had been the location of violent disturbances.
I turned my light on and picked out a new game, Half Life 3, for the Xbox One. I smiled and put it in my cargo pants pocket before turning my light off again. The video game wasn't new, I just didn't but it when it finally did release in 2016. Why? 2+0+1=3... 6-3=3. Clever, very clever. When it came out I had no interest in playing it, but my brother would enjoy the game... hopefully.
I made my way to the pharmacy fairly quickly as it wasn't a long way from the electronics section. I turned my light on again and silently hopped over the counter, made a quick check to see it was clear, and proceeded to the containers. Fortunately, the last pharmacist kept everything in alphabetical order. I easily found my grandmas medication, stuffed it in my pants pocket, and proceeded to grab my inhaler medication.
Next up: Toilet paper and food.
I admitted to myself that my nerves were fried. I wanted to turn the light on and crawl into the fetal position in the corner but I knew that my grandma, brother and Vera wouldn't survive without me. The pressure alone both infuriated me but at the same time forced me to commit to decisions I... perhaps hastily made. I was in Wal-Mart, in the dark, with only four rounds and no melee weapon. I turned my torch off and proceeded towards the grocery section. Unfortunately, realizing that was along the 'right' side of the store, I knew it would actually mean I'd commit suicide going there. I retraced my steps, but had a heart attack as the group of infected I had encountered before had moved. I wanted to turn my light on, but they'd see the light and probably run towards it.
There were many kinds of infected: Zombie, runner, jumper and mauler. That's what I named them, at least. The zombies were the slow typical one you'd see in video games. Runners were more like the infected you'd see in twenty eight days/weeks/years later. I couldn't guarantee that the group weren't runners. When I previously saw them, the majority of the group were facing the other way, probably looking at their shadows. I thought to myself it was reasonable to do what I did last time, a mere second of light.
Then I thought of another way. The flashlight I had was a powerful MAG light. I could push the head of the flashlight up and it would 'zoom' the beam. I aimed it at the roof, turned it on, and let it illuminate some of the pipes above. It allowed me, for a brief moment, to get the whereabouts of the group. I saw them, oh did I. Immediately to my left, in the gaming section I had just been on. They were tracing me down, probably by sent. I didn't smell dead, nor alive. I smelt bad.
Fuck I thought, turned the light off and begun crouch walking down the isle. I heard the steps of a few zombies followed, and in my panic begun to ran. My footsteps echo'd in the empty store, no doubt alerting the zombies to the far side of the building. I ran for the only light I could see - the entrance I came from. I ran, and ran, and ran. My asthma started acting up, but I successfully got outside, but ripped my shirt on the glass of the entrance. I looked behind me and swore, ducked and had a jumper fly right over my head. I pulled out my pistol, was about to pull the trigger, but remembered the huge swarm directly to my left. I holstered my weapon and ran from car to car, avoiding the jumper as he crashed from roof to windshields and everything in between.
Jumpers were powerful, but not very accurate. They also ran at you on all fours, like a monkey or guerrilla. This gave me the advantage, but I was fortunate enough that the rest of the infected had just started leaving the building. It appeared that those were mostly zombies. One of them detected me and started running through the maze of cars more accurately than the jumper was.
Attempting to avoid the jumper and runner at the same time was fatal. I had no other choice but to shoot one or the other. So I pulled my sidearm out again, took at at the Jumper ready to pounce, and alerted the swarm of zombies of my location as the report rolled over the immediate area. I sprinted towards my bike, mounted it and tossed it into the highest gear on the highest tension.
The wind from the speed I picked up caused my shirt to flap, my cargo pants to press against my shins and the breath in my lungs to escape. In my adrenaline I assumed I was biking at thirty kilometers per hour or greater. I stopped pedaling, sat down and looked behind me. Oh yeah, I was being chased. At least thirty runners were on to me. I took the moment of glide to aid my asthma. I took some of my puffer, counted to thirty and exhaled. My now my speed had drained and the infected were gaining significant ground.
I gunned it again, making sure to get distance. I circled around the network of back alleys and paths around the third alley before finally stopping for a moment. I stopped and listened for growls, grunts and running steps between my deep breaths longing for air. I heard nothing, but I knew I had to get home. It wouldn't be safe tonight.
The adrenaline stopped and pain entered my body. I touched my arm and came away with blood, I had been scratched during my retreat. I was infected, and had a mere hour before I too joined the ranks of the undead. I cried a little, but decided to go home.
I lowered my bike to the third gear around medium tension. I biked quickly through the three alleys, discarded my bike in the parking lot and knocked on Vera's door. She appeared at the window after a minute, and during that time I kept my head at a constant swivel. I shook my head, I was unsuccessful.
She thanked me and I returned home, closed the window I crawled through and grabbed Devan tightly as he greeted me. My grandma also came to check how I did. I held my brother for minutes, and during that time he held me back. He knew what I had just been through, even if it meant that I had almost died.
My grandma put her hand on my shoulder and gave me a hug as well. I let my tears out and wept in their arms, shaking as I cried. I sat down at the kitchen table and calmed down. I pulled out the game I got Devan and smiled at his delight. Something new to play, and then watched him run upstairs to the Xbox One that was waiting. I pulled out my grandmas medication, enough for a month.
She smiled, and I returned the warm emotion.
I had done it.
But I had also failed.
I took my shirt off and showed my grandma the scratch I had received from the jumper while I was trying to flee.
"Noooo." My grandma cried out.
"Don't tell Devan." I said.
"Do you know if it was caused by the infected?" My grandma replied, begging to the heavens that it was something I had received while I was trying to run. I thought back to when I was running in the dark towards the entrance. I did rip my shirt open, but both cuts were consistent with each other.
"It could have been the glass I cut my shirt on." I said. My grandma took that answer immediately. She opened the fridge, which was obviously non-powered, and opened a bottle of water. She rinsed my arm off and laughed in relief as she pulled out a piece of glass. I lurched forward in relief, a smile creasing my face.
Thank you I thought, looking up towards the roof.
"Thank you." My grandma said, realizing what I was doing.
I allowed my thoughts to be drowned by the sounds of quiet gunshots of Half Life 3. I hugged my grandma tigher after she bandaged my arm and I walked up the stairs and into Devan's room and laid down on his bed. I also tied my legs together and turned towards my brother.
"Devan, tie my arms together really tightly, okay?" I asked.
He paused his game and looked at me confusingly.
"Okay." He replied, and tied his best knot. I tried to pull my arms apart, but they didn't budge.
"So-" I started to say, but caught myself. "Brother, if I start growling and biting the air you need to kill me. Please."
My brother stared at the paused TV. "Okay." He replied.
I nodded and dozed off into a nap.
I was originally going to post this as a story for SuperCommando's Helloween content, but I decided against it because I have another concept on the drawing board for that. Anyways, as I said, I hope you guys enjoy the read. It's a WIP and the story will be based about a unfortunate run to destination - but you'll have to read to find that out. Small spoiler.
353 days after patient zero, 2017
Continental Canada
Lethbridge, Alberta
Zach
Continental Canada
Lethbridge, Alberta
Zach
I examined the voice recorder I had set up on the table and shook my head. I wondered to myself a while ago why I was doing it, but I knew now. The world had gone to shit nearly a year ago and nothing could have changed that - but events needed to be recorded. Humanities legacy, if that meant anything. I sighed slightly, pressed the recorders 'record' button and spoke: "Day three hundred and... fifty three.' I said, stopping for a moment to recollect the events of the day. "The gas station across the street is on fire now, I suspect there will be an explosion within the next couple of hours if my original assumptions - that fuel was still in the tanks below - are correct. Yet, it continues to burn so I question the accuracy of that self claim."
I stopped to look over at Devan, my little brother. He was now ten years old, almost eleven. I was trying to raise him without a mother, without a father and without siblings. It was just him and me versus the world now. "Devan," I said. "Come say hello, tell people about your day."
I watched as Devan sunk into the couch in disappointment, but he didn't complain... much. "Do I have to?" He asked.
"Yes," I replied. "You do. What if one day mom finds these tapes and comes looking for us?" I added.
My little brother sighed explosively and approached the table. "My name is Devan, I am ten years old now. My day was boring. Bye."
I chuckled a little bit and stopped the recording. A year ago we were sitting in this very house doing YouTube videos for a living, now we were surviving. The house wasn't exactly defend-able, but I had managed to make it work. My deceased step dad was a construction worker and always brought home extra pieces of wood periodically over the three years I knew him. Unfortunately, he died trying to save my mother... who had to flee with my aunt because it was the only option. My grandma was also here, but she was very ill and spent most of her days resting upstairs.
"Have you checked on grandma?" I asked Devan.
"Yes, she needs her medicine." Devan replied.
I sighed once more. The pharmacy I had been looting had become the home to a group of bandits. I didn't have a lot of ammo, so I had to find another alternative. Two years ago I got my firearms control license and bought two .45 Caliber handguns based off the classic design of the M1911 used in world war two. Now, that same handgun had become my lifeline when I was outside scavenging for supplies and food... but I could never find ammo.
"I'll have to go out later today, Devan, and get her some. When I lea-" I begun to say before my brother stopped me.
"I know what to do, Zach." He said. A tear ran down my eye and I silently wished I could have raised him differently over the year. I nodded in response, gave him a swift hug and double checked the defense I had set up. The main windows were barricaded with a duel set of wood planks - from the outside and the inside - and was completed with a trap I had set up. In the event one of the wood planks fell off a can of gasoline would fall, ignite a Zippo lighter, and hopefully burn the intruder to death.
The main doors were heavily barricaded by a couch, wooden planks and steel sheets. The basement had a small window that I forged metal bards into the buildings cement foundations. The only window I had to worry about now was the kitchen window, but it was pretty high up. I only had to worry about the jumpers, but they were few and far between. During the day is when we were most active, and during the night is when the house fell prey to the darkness. The howls of the infected, the crashing and occasional screaming from survivors or a screamer frightened us all. During the light we fled into the master bedroom up stairs, where I had made the most heavier modifications to the door.
That door was like a castle entrance.
I walked up the stairs, leaving Devan downstairs with my M1911 and the magazine. I had trained him how to use it, how to respect it and how to take care of it. I trusted Devan, relied on him to protect the house while I was gone. The majority of the ammo was in the master bedroom, but our cases had rapidly deleted as I ran on supply runs on my bike. We had gotten low, only four magazines left for both guns. That meant we only had fourteen rounds to share each... but secretly I put the rest of my ammo into Devan's ammunition case. I only had four rounds in my pistol.
"Grandma?"
Her wheezy breath frightened me as I entered the room. "Yes?"
"Can I get you anything?" I asked. My grandma had been suffering from multiple diseases that were classed into a category called 'Dystonia'. I had to get her a new medication that came out in 2016 so she could fight it. When we had the medicine, my grandma was more than well enough to do what we considered every day life now. Without them, though, she struggled severely.
"I'm going to head out and find you your medicine." I said. I was looking for Aspextria Baclofen, a funky name that no one could forget. It was the one drug to solve what my grandma had, and fortunately it wasn't very popular to raiders and bandits. I had traded my Ventolin inhaler for two cases at the Wal-Mart pharmacy a couple of weeks after the infection hit my city.
It wasn't immediate. It took sixty or so days for the infection to spread out of Mexico, but they quickly swarmed over Central United States and by day one hundred ninty Canada had fallen. From what I knew, the US Military and what was left of the Canadian Military had successfully managed to keep the infected localized to central US and continental Canada. The costs, for now, were clear. I had heard reports the Vancouver Island was now a thriving community for survivors, defended by both the Canadian and American Navies. Hawaii had more population than Canada had during its prime (33 Million) and other islands with towns, cities and communities had begun to accept refugees.
The eastern continents were in the same mess, so survivors couldn't just flee to Russia... And that started a war, but I didn't know anything about that. I had only seen the flash of what I assumed was a nuclear detonation high in the sky about a month ago. Regardless, I had a job to do now.
"Zach," Devan called from downstairs. "There's a zombie trying to get in from the front."
I rushed downstairs and collected by brother into my arms and carried him upstairs almost instinctively, like it had been programmed every time he feared that the zombie would break through. Truth be told, it never happened. But I always rushed to his aid, it was both a redeeming quality and a huge weakness at the same time. I knew that, if a zombie had gotten to my brother, I'd happily die next or with him as he turned. I'd commit murder, then suicide so we both didn't have to live without one another.
In a way, I found myself as a father figure to my little brother. I didn't think as an older brother, I thought as I would if he were my kid. Call me over protective, but it kept us alive for the last couple of months while I fortified our fortress. I returned downstairs to examine the defense I had constructed. Obviously, it was holding well. I swept the main floor, and continued to the basement when I was satisfied.
After my examination of the house the zombie had lost interest in the door and wondered away, or at least I assumed. With the windows completely boarded it was fairly dark inside, and thus I couldn't see outside. The only light on the main floor was providing from the stair well leading to upstairs and the main doors small window at the top of its frame. The kitchen window also provided some light through the meager defenses I had put up. The basement was completely dark at all times.
Upstairs I had only lightly boarded the windows from those zombies that could reach those heights. Jumpers frequently smashed through top windows to devour the survivors hiding within the house. They typically caught them by surprise, but I refused to be taken the same way as my friends who thought they were safe with impressive base defenses. Mitchell died because he was arrogant. I was not.
"It's okay, Devan." I replied.
My grandma appeared at the stairs, a look of pain on her face. It appeared the spell had passed, for now. I recoiled in happy surprise as she smiled and entered the bathroom. I heard her open the window and dump the waste out the window like it was times of ancient. Fortunately, the smell of human waste pushed the zombies away. I considered it a... natural defense that we produced.
I waited for a moment and sat down on the first stair to see how she was doing. When she left the bathroom she held onto Devan's shoulders. "Zach," she said. "I'm okay."
"I know," I replied. "I'm still going to go get your medicine."
My grandma knew that, in my stubborn ways, she couldn't convince me otherwise. I also had to get some canned food. We had a supply, but we were running low. For the first time in a long time I was returning to the Wal-Mart I had stopped visiting. I knew it would be dangerous, and I knew that it was. There would be infected. Why? People fled to places that were most common during initial outbreak at my city. Grocery stores, the military reserve base and hospital were common places. The 'north side' Wal-Mart that I used to trade for my grandmas medication was eventually used as a military evacuation outpost. The parking lot was littered with abandoned military vehicles.
From what I could recall, it was only ground vehicles. The evacuation of my city was purely an infantry level scale. The airforce was focused in Calgary, a city of one million. My city of eight hundred thousand received a battalion strength infantry unit to proceed with vehicular evacuation. Obviously it failed. There were four military evacuation zones, all overrun now. Both Wal-Mart parking lots, the reserve base and the college. Near the college was the Enmax center, a local hockey arena that served as the military operations center.
What was left of that battalion fled the city in what ever they could as the infected overwhelmed the survivors. Ironically, most of the infected inside my city were on their way to a town about an hour away. Sometimes I swore I could hear explosions in the distance. This town was seventy seven kilometers away, and just fifteen minutes from the US boarder. From what I had heard on the radio before it stopped was that the US Army and Canadian Army were working together at that location to get people from Canada towards the coasts.
I snapped out of my stupor and looked back up at my grandma, "What?" I asked.
She laughed slightly. "I know you will. I'll watch Devan, I'm okay for now." She repeated. I nodded in response and grabbed my sidearm I left downstairs. I slid the magazine in and chambered the round. I went into the kitchen and slid open the window. I crawled through the gap between wooden boards and closed it on my way out. I climbed down the 'stairs' I had assembled, which was a BIF bin. Zombies couldn't get up, but I could. I dropped down and immediately scanned my environment.
As I predicted Vera, my neighbor in number four in my condo, waived from her window and dropped a piece of paper. I walked over it cautiously and picked it up. Vera was a disabled lady who could barely walk, let alone support herself in this environment. Vera was elderly, too. She had lost everything when the infection started. I boarded her home up tightly and ran scavenging runs for her.
I read the piece of paper. She needed some toilet paper. I laughed and nodded, and she smiled and slid her window closed. Quite honestly, I had developed a little community here. All though the condo was large, forty two condos total, only two were populated. I had readied another two condos for people but I could never find survivors. None, by none I meant none. Not even ones who would try to shoot at you and take your gear. Like always, there were always those rumors around the mill on the radio. Bandits taking supplies off survivors. I questioned how many of murdered survivors were fending for families. How many kids, infant or not, were abandoned because they simply killed the provider. It disgusted me, but that was the way the world lived now.
And in a way, I was prepared to do it as well.
I took a breath and headed into the condo parking lot, crossed the street and begun down the first of three back alleys. I had a bike at the last one, hidden behind an abandon car so I didn't have to walk the entire way. The first alley had a school playground, the school my brother went to before 'shit hit the fan'. I stopped for a moment and remembered days we'd play at the park. I thought then, at that very point, that I'd bring him back to the playground so he could have some fun once more. He was a kid, not an adult. The playground was a perfect place, and wasn't in the open either. A small hill concealed an approach and the alley I was walking through concealed the rest from the main road. Zombies rarely took alleys.
There was another park, probably safer, behind our condo in the middle of a bike trail that was never used. I had used this route a dozen times to get from destinations, and I relied on it. I decided that I'd take him to that one first and smile satisfactorily as my brother laughed for the first time. The first genuine laugh, that is. I tried to do what I could to entertain him, and kept a rather powerful solar powered generator going so he could play video games during the day in his room with the volume muted or low.
Yes, video games. We had a solar powered generator on the roof, with cables that ran directly into his room, powering his entertainment. In a way, some of the zombie games he played were learning tools I hoped he actually learned on. I walked forward, and through the first alley. I crossed the road, scanning left and right, and into the second alley. It wasn't long before I was at the third one, on my bike, and on the way to the Wal-Mart.
By the time I arrived I truly knew how fucked the military was. I looked on at the overcrowded parking lot. Soldiers in their equipment, both heavily armed and lightly armed. Others in their fatigues, and civilians mixed in between. I swore, it would take a miracle to clear out the parking lot. How am I in the right to be surprised? I asked myself, questioning my ignorance. I stopped thinking and cleared my mind. There were other places to scavenge, but I knew there would be medicine inside the store. I also knew it was going to be dark, dangerous and suicidal.
So I pressed forward, walking in between the destroyed chain link fence and weaving between buildings and cover in an attempt to stay out of sight. The parking lot to the left, just outside of the evacuation zone, was laden with vehicles. Police cars, ambulances, fire-trucks and normal vehicles were all intertwined together. I used them for cover and easily made my way to the front entrance of the most left entrance to the super store. I produced my flashlight and cleared my throat silently. The infected tended to swarm together, so it was a fairly safe bet that the majority of the infected were along the left side of the store.
I dared myself, then willed myself to enter. Upon entering I rushed towards a check out lane, slid to a stop and took a breather. I produced my inhaler and took a puff, knowing I'd need the relief if I made to much noise. I clicked my flashlight in and sent the beam barreling through the darkness. I illuminated sections of the store and eventually started softly walking down the paths.
For a moment, I thought everything would be okay, but I immediately disregarded that as my flashlight illuminated a dozen zombies. I snapped the torch off and slid along the floor into a clothing rack. Obviously, with no washing machine, my clothes smelled like a dead person. Infected humans, however, didn't use the sense of smell. They relied on a poor eye sight and decent hearing.
I hid for what felt like ten minutes, and left the cloth rack I had taken refuge in. I had memorized the store, and silently walked down the walkways towards my brothers personal favorite section: The video games. Since the store had been a place of military protection, looting wasn't very popular. However, before the military arrived, it had been the location of violent disturbances.
I turned my light on and picked out a new game, Half Life 3, for the Xbox One. I smiled and put it in my cargo pants pocket before turning my light off again. The video game wasn't new, I just didn't but it when it finally did release in 2016. Why? 2+0+1=3... 6-3=3. Clever, very clever. When it came out I had no interest in playing it, but my brother would enjoy the game... hopefully.
I made my way to the pharmacy fairly quickly as it wasn't a long way from the electronics section. I turned my light on again and silently hopped over the counter, made a quick check to see it was clear, and proceeded to the containers. Fortunately, the last pharmacist kept everything in alphabetical order. I easily found my grandmas medication, stuffed it in my pants pocket, and proceeded to grab my inhaler medication.
Next up: Toilet paper and food.
I admitted to myself that my nerves were fried. I wanted to turn the light on and crawl into the fetal position in the corner but I knew that my grandma, brother and Vera wouldn't survive without me. The pressure alone both infuriated me but at the same time forced me to commit to decisions I... perhaps hastily made. I was in Wal-Mart, in the dark, with only four rounds and no melee weapon. I turned my torch off and proceeded towards the grocery section. Unfortunately, realizing that was along the 'right' side of the store, I knew it would actually mean I'd commit suicide going there. I retraced my steps, but had a heart attack as the group of infected I had encountered before had moved. I wanted to turn my light on, but they'd see the light and probably run towards it.
There were many kinds of infected: Zombie, runner, jumper and mauler. That's what I named them, at least. The zombies were the slow typical one you'd see in video games. Runners were more like the infected you'd see in twenty eight days/weeks/years later. I couldn't guarantee that the group weren't runners. When I previously saw them, the majority of the group were facing the other way, probably looking at their shadows. I thought to myself it was reasonable to do what I did last time, a mere second of light.
Then I thought of another way. The flashlight I had was a powerful MAG light. I could push the head of the flashlight up and it would 'zoom' the beam. I aimed it at the roof, turned it on, and let it illuminate some of the pipes above. It allowed me, for a brief moment, to get the whereabouts of the group. I saw them, oh did I. Immediately to my left, in the gaming section I had just been on. They were tracing me down, probably by sent. I didn't smell dead, nor alive. I smelt bad.
Fuck I thought, turned the light off and begun crouch walking down the isle. I heard the steps of a few zombies followed, and in my panic begun to ran. My footsteps echo'd in the empty store, no doubt alerting the zombies to the far side of the building. I ran for the only light I could see - the entrance I came from. I ran, and ran, and ran. My asthma started acting up, but I successfully got outside, but ripped my shirt on the glass of the entrance. I looked behind me and swore, ducked and had a jumper fly right over my head. I pulled out my pistol, was about to pull the trigger, but remembered the huge swarm directly to my left. I holstered my weapon and ran from car to car, avoiding the jumper as he crashed from roof to windshields and everything in between.
Jumpers were powerful, but not very accurate. They also ran at you on all fours, like a monkey or guerrilla. This gave me the advantage, but I was fortunate enough that the rest of the infected had just started leaving the building. It appeared that those were mostly zombies. One of them detected me and started running through the maze of cars more accurately than the jumper was.
Attempting to avoid the jumper and runner at the same time was fatal. I had no other choice but to shoot one or the other. So I pulled my sidearm out again, took at at the Jumper ready to pounce, and alerted the swarm of zombies of my location as the report rolled over the immediate area. I sprinted towards my bike, mounted it and tossed it into the highest gear on the highest tension.
The wind from the speed I picked up caused my shirt to flap, my cargo pants to press against my shins and the breath in my lungs to escape. In my adrenaline I assumed I was biking at thirty kilometers per hour or greater. I stopped pedaling, sat down and looked behind me. Oh yeah, I was being chased. At least thirty runners were on to me. I took the moment of glide to aid my asthma. I took some of my puffer, counted to thirty and exhaled. My now my speed had drained and the infected were gaining significant ground.
I gunned it again, making sure to get distance. I circled around the network of back alleys and paths around the third alley before finally stopping for a moment. I stopped and listened for growls, grunts and running steps between my deep breaths longing for air. I heard nothing, but I knew I had to get home. It wouldn't be safe tonight.
The adrenaline stopped and pain entered my body. I touched my arm and came away with blood, I had been scratched during my retreat. I was infected, and had a mere hour before I too joined the ranks of the undead. I cried a little, but decided to go home.
I lowered my bike to the third gear around medium tension. I biked quickly through the three alleys, discarded my bike in the parking lot and knocked on Vera's door. She appeared at the window after a minute, and during that time I kept my head at a constant swivel. I shook my head, I was unsuccessful.
She thanked me and I returned home, closed the window I crawled through and grabbed Devan tightly as he greeted me. My grandma also came to check how I did. I held my brother for minutes, and during that time he held me back. He knew what I had just been through, even if it meant that I had almost died.
My grandma put her hand on my shoulder and gave me a hug as well. I let my tears out and wept in their arms, shaking as I cried. I sat down at the kitchen table and calmed down. I pulled out the game I got Devan and smiled at his delight. Something new to play, and then watched him run upstairs to the Xbox One that was waiting. I pulled out my grandmas medication, enough for a month.
She smiled, and I returned the warm emotion.
I had done it.
But I had also failed.
I took my shirt off and showed my grandma the scratch I had received from the jumper while I was trying to flee.
"Noooo." My grandma cried out.
"Don't tell Devan." I said.
"Do you know if it was caused by the infected?" My grandma replied, begging to the heavens that it was something I had received while I was trying to run. I thought back to when I was running in the dark towards the entrance. I did rip my shirt open, but both cuts were consistent with each other.
"It could have been the glass I cut my shirt on." I said. My grandma took that answer immediately. She opened the fridge, which was obviously non-powered, and opened a bottle of water. She rinsed my arm off and laughed in relief as she pulled out a piece of glass. I lurched forward in relief, a smile creasing my face.
Thank you I thought, looking up towards the roof.
"Thank you." My grandma said, realizing what I was doing.
I allowed my thoughts to be drowned by the sounds of quiet gunshots of Half Life 3. I hugged my grandma tigher after she bandaged my arm and I walked up the stairs and into Devan's room and laid down on his bed. I also tied my legs together and turned towards my brother.
"Devan, tie my arms together really tightly, okay?" I asked.
He paused his game and looked at me confusingly.
"Okay." He replied, and tied his best knot. I tried to pull my arms apart, but they didn't budge.
"So-" I started to say, but caught myself. "Brother, if I start growling and biting the air you need to kill me. Please."
My brother stared at the paused TV. "Okay." He replied.
I nodded and dozed off into a nap.
