INFECTED (Click Your Poison) (88 page)

•
 
Straight to the “Command Post.” I bet Lucas and Rosie are already there.

MAKE YOUR CHOICE

“L
et’s try the back room,” Tyberius suggests. “The shelves were probably the first to go.”

“Good idea,” Hefty replies in his deep Southern accent. You follow them toward the rear, walking in silence, until Hefty says, “What’s your story, Newbie?”

“You first,” you say.

“Fair enough,” Hefty replies, taking a can of chew and putting a dip inside his lip. “Georgia boy, born and raised. I went to Florida—you know, for college? And I was out here visiting my Aunt when shit went down. Oh, and you know the government made this zombie thing, right?”

“I did not.”

“Oh, hell yeah, they did. Always mixing shit up with their secret weapons and shit.”

“Shit,” you say. “What about you—Tyberius, right? You still in school?”

“Never. I been working since I was fourteen. Right now I got a cush job. Bank teller.”

“Bank, eh?” Hefty says. “Ever think about robbing it?”

“No way, man.”

“Come on, never?”

“Money’ll always end up bad. Man’s greed and man’s killer instinct go hand-in-hand. Watch a barracuda attack something shiny and you’ll see what our fascination with gold is. Think about it. We give actually valuable things like food and shelter for stones. We kill for it. Make no mistake, behind every man who seeks his fortune is a predator.”

Hefty stares blankly. “Damn, dude. That’s deep.”

“Here we are,” Tyberius announces. You’ve made it to the stockroom where huge pallets of food sit untouched. “Yo, Coop! We got something here!”

From the distance, your leader shouts, “Stockroom!”

•
 
Wait for the others to head to the stockroom.

MAKE YOUR CHOICE

B
ack out in the neighborhood, your feet move quickly beneath you. You rush out to the middle of the street to scan for potential threats, and hurry down the road. Adrenaline has kicked in. You can feel your body temperature rise. Sweat appears on your brow, your palms, underarms—you’re starting to perspire all over.

Suddenly, you’re jogging. You don’t remember telling your legs to do so, but as a wave of panic rushes over you, you understand why your legs decided it was best to get moving. Your head whips about, unable to pinpoint the source of melodious dread, but you’re certain
something
is after you. You don’t feel safe out here in the open.
Exposed.
Each house, countless around you, could hold a dozen fiends just waiting to gnaw on your bones.

“Hey, you!” someone shouts from behind.

In reflex, you turn around. She’s a full block behind you, glimmering like a mirage in the midmorning sun, but you can make out her distinctly human movements. She’s waving her arms. Behind her, there’s a man. Out of two homes on opposite ends of the street, more survivors emerge; a pair from each, six human beings in total.

Your heart pounds in your chest. Your legs say to run, but your stomach says they might have food. What do you do?

•
 
Turn back and meet the neighbors.

•
 
After that shout, the zombies are surely on their way. Keep running!

MAKE YOUR CHOICE

A
fter reclaiming any gear you may have dropped, you come back to the group. Cooper nods her acceptance, adjusts the long motorcycle chain she carries atop her shoulder, and then she’s back to business. “All right guys, what do we got? Sims?”

“The area isn’t very secure. I’d recommend leaving ASAP. That wall? Put up by National Guard before the panic, so who knows if it’s even complete. This place is crawling with Fleshies, so…” Sims finishes his report, then begins fiddling with the gas mask he carries.

“Guys?”

“Plenty of food,” Tyberius responds. He sets down two trash bags in the center of the group, and then Hefty does the same.

She doesn’t smile but she nods. That’s all anyone can hope for, it appears. “All right, here’s what we’re—” She cuts herself off mid-sentence, perking up and cocking her head like a fox on the hunt. You all listen.

And now you hear it too. A profound and hearty moan, coming at you like the dying breath of God. Each of you pinpoint the source and look down the suburban street. It’s coming from several blocks down, toward the National Guard wall. You slide your pack off one shoulder so you can access it on your body, remove your binoculars, and look.