Larry sneaks through the ravaged
streets. The bells toll as he reaches the church. The streets are full of
zombies. The undead turn and stare at the sanctuary as the fifth bell echoes.
The mob groans and run up the steps, flinging themselves at the doors.
“Be g
one
hell spawn,” the priest yells from a window.
A large explosion echoes from the
west. The horde becomes a mass of moving flesh as they migrate toward the
explosion. Eight zombies remain scratching at the doors.
“Go away undead spawn!” the priest
yells.
The zombies are extremely agitated
by the priest’s voice and don’t notice six armed men approaching. Larry knows
the men aren’t up to any good and climbs through a broken window of a video
store. He drops the duffle bag, retrieves extra assault rifle clips, and lies
on his tummy on a table near the window with the rifle pointing at the street.
The thugs stop out of sight of the zombies and discuss a plan of attack. Larry
squeezes a single round at a thug’s head.
Bang
.
One of the six armed men falls to
the street. The remaining five thugs look around in alarm. They point at the
church and open fire at the zombies.
Bang Bang
.
Two more thugs fall. The zombies
swarm the remaining thug and feast. Larry sneaks to the church and bangs on the
door.
“An answered prayer!” the priest
says and opens the door.
Larry runs into the church,
yelling, “Hurry, shut the door. Where’s Natalie?”
“You have a lot of balls coming
back,” Bob says.
“You’re not happy to see me?”
Larry hesitates at the unfriendly greeting.
He rummages in the duffle bag for
a few side arms and places the guns on the entry table.
“Bob, show the cop where we put
the prisoner.”
“Prisoner?” Larry questions as a
burst of gun fire hits the front of the church.
“Shit, you let some go?” Bob asks.
“No. More than likely it’s their
buddies. What prisoner?”
“Look!” Bob yells. “Look at what
your evil bitch did to our children!”
Crying comes from the inner
sanctum. Larry looks inside. Children are laid out on the floor before a large
wooden cross. Near the children mourning parents wail.
“What happened to the kids?
Where’s Natalie?”
Bob’s eyes full of rage as he
blurts, “The bitch murdered our children.”
“What?”
“She poisoned them.”
“Natalie? That’s a serious
accusation, sir. Why would she do that?”
“Ask her yourself! She’s in
there,” Bob points to a closed storage room.
“Let me talk to her in private.”
“You got five minutes.”
Larry enters the small storage
room filled with bingo cards, collection bowls, bibles and pamphlets. Natalie
sits on a folding chair, hands bound and blindfolded.
“Please don’t hurt me,” she begs.
“What’s did you do Natalie?”
“Larry?”
He unties her hands. The church
shakes under gun fire. An explosion is followed by crash. He peeks out of the
room but ducks back in as armed men enter the church guns blazing.
“Larry, what’s happening?”
“What does it sound like?”
Larry barricades the door with
Natalie’s chair. She takes off the blindfold.
“You left me to die with the
wolves.”
“Did you murder those kids?”
“You mean the zombie children?”
“Did you or did you not poison
them?”
“You can’t murder what’s already
dead.”
“Were they breathing before you
poisoned them?”
“This is the house of the Lord!”
the priest bellows.
“Told
you we’d be back,” M2 laughs as he shoots the priest. “Someone see if Lin and
the stash are here.”
“I’m sorry, Larry. Jesus told me
to do it.”
“You’re crazy!”
“They needed to sleep.”
A new
round of gun fire shakes from within the church as the thugs try defending
themselves against zombies drawn by the sounds.
Natalie grabs his sleeve. “I had
to Larry. You understand, don’t you?”
An icy chill rips up his spine.
“We’re trapped in here,” Natalie
frets.
“Shut up, murderous cunt. We’re
going to have to make a run for it.”
Larry opens the door.
“I don’t want to.”
“Jesus will keep you safe,
remember.”
“Jesus
will
protect me, but
I don’t know about you.”
“Are you ready?” he asks, not
waiting for a reply.
He
grabs Natalie by the shirt and propels her into the monsters. Immediately
several zombies seize her. As the ravenous zombies drive her to the floor he
slips out of the storage room and runs out the door.
S
eth rages on the smoldering steps of the National
Portrait Gallery. Black smoke billows overhead as the sun rises through heavy
grey clouds of a new day.
“What are we going to do now boss?
We lost most of the men and Lin wasn’t in the church. No one is. Hell, I’m
lucky I made it out of there,” M2 says as seagulls sweep between destroyed
buildings. “Man, I need a Z.”
“The Zs are gone,” Seth snarls.
“We need to find Lin.
“I sent our last war party an hour
ago to that post office building.”
“Why aren’t they back yet?”
“Who knows?”
Only six thugs escaped the burning
Portrait Gallery. It’s impossible for Seth to think past the rage. His vision
blurs.
“Seth, are you getting cataracts,
man?”
“What the fuck are you talking
about?”
“Nothing, we need more Zs.”
“Shut up about Zs,” he snarls and
pounds a fist on the step. “My masterpiece is in ruins. Where’s this post
office?”
M2 points to the west and Seth
bellows, “Dogs, we’re off to war!”
A
disheveled man in a business suit emerges from the entry way behind them. The
thugs on the street gawk at Seth and M2.
“What are you freaks looking at?”
Seth asks.
The zombie groans, low and
menacing.
“Zombie!” A thug yells.
“Cap his ass,” Seth orders.
Uneasiness ripples through the
group as more zombies spill from the buildings.
“We’re surrounded!” M2 shrieks.
Rising
from the rubble are dozens of zombies. Some look like normal people but others
have horrible wounds and objects protruding from their bodies. They move fast,
only the mortally wounded shuffle.
“What
the hell?”
“Where
have you been?” M2 says as he starts shooting. “These freaks have been roaming
the city all night.”
Seth shoots the guard in the
chest. Gunfire
fills the street. Corpses flop to the pavement but
instead of staying down they stand, run and crawl for the living. One after
another, the thugs fall and turn. He no longer hears the report of the gun. The
infuriating pistol doesn’t stop the zombies. A thug runs up the steps only to
be tackled by zombie fast food worker. Ears ringing, he doesn’t hear the man
scream.
“They’re everywhere,” M2 yells.
“They don’t want to stay dead,”
Seth shouts ghouls away.
Rebecca lurches into view. Her
face and body are a charred ruin. M2 shoots her in the shoulder as he stomps on
another’s face. She stumbles back a step then lunges for Seth. He fires two
rounds at her. The bullets catch her in the chest and arm but she keeps coming.
She swipes away his gun and tackles him, pinning him with dead weight as her
foul teeth tear into his shoulder.
“Help me!”
She gruesomely grins at him and attempts
a second chomp. He bucks against her, reaching desperately for his knife. Luck
is in his favor as he grasps the handle and jams the blade into her neck. The
steel slices through soft flesh but doesn’t stop the attack. With a roar he
thrusts the knife into her face over and over. Zombie gore spills over him as
he withdraws the blade. She shudders and falls on top of him.
“Get
up!” M2 shrills as he drags Seth to his feet.
Only
two of his men along with M2 remain. Like an endless tide, more zombies fill
the street.
“This way,” Seth says.
They enter a damaged pizzeria.
“Block those doors,” he orders as
the zombies follow.
The undead throw themselves at the
windows and doors.
One of the thugs says, “Don’t let
those fuckers in.”
“Don’t talk so loud,” M2 says and
checks his bullets.
Seth collapses into a chair and
flexes his arm. It doesn’t want to work. The tendons and muscles are torn and
it burns. Seth dry swallows two Zs and gives the others one each.
“The bitch got the better of you,”
M2 says.
“People who get bit turn into
them,” a thug says with a shaky voice, his gun trained on Seth.
The thug breaks eye contact as a
zombie tries to crawl through a broken window. M2 empties his clip into its
face. With the thug distracted by the attack, Seth tears the gun from the
thug’s hands.
“Die, bitch.” Seth shoots the thug
in the forehead
.
The others stare in wary silence.
“Anyone else worried about me
turning into a zombie?” Seth snarls.
“Don’t worry about me,” M2
babbles.
The other thug backs away. He
bumps into a wall near another broken window and hands seize him. The undead
pull the screaming man through the broken glass.
“There’s too many!” M2 yells.
“Let’s get out of here.”
They flee through the rear exit as
zombies flood the lobby.
“L
et’s bow our heads and pray,” Fred says.
A guard on the opposite side of
the locked door coughs.
Hands trembling, he holds a King
James Bible in front of the sick looking prisoners. Not wanting to leave Kyle
alone, he volunteered to take care of them. Around the dark and stuffy room
eight detainees sit in office chairs. All of them bow their heads in prayer
except for Kyle and Lin.
“Dad, why didn’t you listen to the
guards when they told you were stupid for coming in here?”
Fred looks at Kyle and the
detainees stop praying. He wants to speak of hope and compassion but doesn’t
know how to say it.
“They had no right taking my
pills,” Lin seethes.
“Drugs are bad,” Fred says.
“I don’t know how we’ll last
without them,” Lin snaps.
“The road to recovery is long but
Jesus will help you.”
“Damn, you’re ignorant,” Lin says.
“What do you mean?”
“We’re going to change into
zombies. Game over.”
Fred doesn’t know what say. Kyle,
red eyed and feverish, tries standing but stumbles. Fred rushes to his son’s
aid but Kyle weakly pushes him away.
“Leave me the fuck alone.”
“You feel chilled. When was the
last time you ate something?”
“I don’t know, yesterday maybe.”
“Do you want me to find you a
snack?”
“No.”
Kyle tries standing again but
doesn’t have the strength and slumps back down.
“Sit down and let me think,” Fred
orders and steps a few feet away from the chair.
“Dad, it’s not right their holding
us like this.”
“No Kyle, it’s not right. It’s
also not right you stole the Hope diamond. What were you thinking?”
“Stop preaching and get the fuck
out of my face.”
“Kyle...”
“Get your hands off of me, old
man! Help me!”
“Calm down, son. I’m not touching
you.”
Kyle’s eyes roll upwards as he
blindly stretches out his hands as if reaching for something. His entire body
starts to tremble and shake. The others in the room back away.
“Let me out!” Lin shrieks,
terrified.
“No chance in hell,” a guard yells
from the hallway.
“Kyle! Someone please help me!”
Fred shouts.
“What’s happening in there?” a
second guard asks.
“He’s changing!” Lin howls as
Kyle’s body tumbles to the floor and becomes still.
“You got what you deserve,” the
first guard answers.
Fred takes a caution step towards
his son’s prone form when Kyle abruptly sits up with empty, filmy eyes. Spittle
flecked with blood dribbles from his mouth. Steeling himself, Fred firmly
presses the bible to his son’s forehead.
“With the power of Jesus, I
command you to leave my son!”
Kyle bats the bible aside and
grabs Fred by the throat with icy cold hands.
“Kyle?”
Fred squeaks as the breath is choked from him. He no longer sees his son in the
cold, hungry eyes that bore into his.
Lin
hits Kyle over the head with a chair. The zombie’s head snaps back at an odd
angle
.
“Kyle,
snap out of it. It’s me, dad.”
Fred
stares in horror as his son still hungrily snaps at him with a broken neck.
“Don’t stand there like a dumb
ass,” Lin yells and strikes Kyle again.
Kyle whirls and throws all his
weight on Lin. The big man goes down as Kyle brutally rips into his unprotected
stomach. Across the room another detainee’s body shudders to a stop on the
conference room floor. The guards open the door. With in seconds the detainee
groans and rises. It lunges for them.
“I told you this was a bad idea,”
a guard shrieks as he opens fire.
It takes the shots in the chest
and tackles one of the guards to the floor. More detainee’s start to turn as
the remaining guard empties his clip into the one devouring his friend.
Fred grabs the hammer from his
tool belt. He stands there, uncertain if he should help Kyle, the guards, the
detainees or if he should just run.
“Lord Jesus, please forgive me.”
As
Kyle feeds Fred strikes him on the back of the head. The head of the hammer
buries deep into his son’s skull and Kyle stiffens and collapses. As Lin starts
to convulse, Fred dashes from the room.
Within
seconds zombies are stumbling after him. He dashes around a corner, finds a
janitor’s closet and slams the door shut tight. He sighs in relief until the
groaning bodies slam against the door. As they pound Fred covers his ears and cries.