The Fall of Society (The Fall of Society Series, Book 1) (21 page)

           
Twenty-five
…

           
Briggs
activated the mini-gun’s rotating barrel…

           
“Hit
the deck!” Briggs yelled to John.

           
John
jumped to the floor…

           
BZZZ
…
!

           
Bullets
flashed over him like lightening and evaporated all the stenches.

           
Briggs
ceased fire. “Let’s go!”

           
John
got up and ran, he took a jump off the tank and landed in the back of the
helicopter.

           
Hayward
piloted the aircraft up and just in time as more undead got to the tower roof
and jumped at them. They missed and fell. The helicopter ascended a hundred
feet higher and swung around the camp. They got a murder of crows’ view of the complete
carnage.

           
They
were everywhere and killing everyone in sight…

           
Many
civilians and soldiers ran to the various buildings and locked themselves in,
but the dead would break their way in there soon enough…

           
They
watched a three-car caravan speed down the beach; they were headed for the ramp
to jump out by the shore. They had hundreds after them, but they made it to the
ramp and one-by-one, they jumped over and landed on the other side, but there
were so many that were trying to force their way through the hole in the wall,
that when they saw the vehicles jump out, 4,000 undead chased after them. The
landmines in the beach for this escape route began to go off as the horde went
after the cars. More than twenty explosions detonated, but they were as rocks
to a tank, making little to no dents in the horde that kept after the caravan.

           
The
horde overwhelmed the last two vehicles and overturned them like charging bulls.
One truck flipped and splashed into the water. The dead wasted no time as they
pulled out the five occupants who were kicking, screaming, and firing guns to
defend themselves, but the undead filth gouged into their flesh. Just the lead
vehicle got away, for now, as it had 3,000 corpses after it.

           
Soldiers
fought with the dead out in the open of the camp, some in groups, others were
alone, and they were being picked off one at a time. John looked at the harbor
and saw civilians and soldiers, alike, running aboard the passenger ferry that
was getting ready to pull away. The dead were right on them and ran on the boat
via the boarding gangway. They attacked anyone they could.

           
“Shoot
the boat’s gangway!” John said to Briggs.

           
“The
what? Where?” Briggs asked.

           
John
pushed him aside, took control of the mini-gun, swung it around and opened fire
toward the boat. A bright line of bullets hit the dock and then sliced the
gangway apart, killing many undead and stopping anymore from getting on the
boat, but it was too late; over twenty got in—gunfire and screams echoed from
within the boat’s decks.

           
Other
survivors were leaving in smaller powerboats and some were in rowboats, a few
had nothing, so they ran into the water and swam away.

           
Some
of them drowned, which was most certainly a better fate than what waited for
them on land.

           
John
fired the mini-gun at a few more areas, but then he quickly realized that
everyone down there was dead as he watched the corpses consume most of the
camp, over 400 souls.

           
Gone.

           
He
ceased fire and the mini-gun’s spinning barrel came to halt.

           
John
sat down and looked away from the bloodbath below.

           
“Where
should we go, John?” Hayward asked.

           
He
didn’t answer—he was too busy listening to the rancid roars of the
thousands below them.

           
“John?”
Hayward said louder.

           
“South,”
John said. “Head down the coast.”

           
Hayward
looked at the fuel gauge on the instrument panel—he didn’t like what he
saw. “Okay.”

           
The
Black Hawk put its tail to the massacre and flew away into the night
…

FIRST
NIGHT
at
 
THE HOSPITAL

E
veryone was settling in for the night
, Joe and his family had already gone to
their room. Doctor Ceraulo and Donnie were gone. Tom and Anthony were still
around as they finished cleaning up the cooking supplies from dinner. Alan was
just sitting at his table looking at Ardent and his crew. They were cleaning
their weapons after the day’s battle. They cleaned their guns religiously
because they were the tools that kept them alive. There were only two working
emergency lights in the cafeteria, so it wasn’t very well lit in there, they
also had some candles to assist their vision.

           
Lauren
sat at the end of the next table, away from the others; she was in the middle
of cleaning her AK-47; it was broken-down into several pieces that she had laid
out in a methodical order. Using a cleaning rod for the inside of the barrel,
she brushed it hard several times, removed the rod and inspected the inside of
the barrel, didn’t like what she saw, so she reinserted the rod and continued
to brush.

           
Alan
watched her compulsively clean her weapon and wondered about her; he wanted to
know what had happened that made her so hard. He walked over to Ardent and
Bear, who were also in the middle of cleaning their guns, which they were doing
in a more relaxed manner.

           
“What’s
up, Alan, you need more shotgun shells?” Ardent asked.

           
Tom
heard. “Please, don’t give him anymore,” he said with a grin.

           
Alan
ignored Tom. “No, I, uh, wanted to tell you that…” he hesitated uncomfortably. “…I
wanted to tell you that I’m sorry…sorry for pointing a gun at you. There, I
said it.”

           
“Thanks,
I appreciate that, and I understand why you did it.”

           
“You
do?”

           
“Of
course I do,” Ardent said. “You were upset, scared, you didn’t know who we were
and you reacted out of self-preservation.”

           
“Yeah,
I guess.”

           
“But
now that you know we’re here to help,” Ardent said, “we all need to stick
together, because it’s the only way that we’re gonna get out of here alive.”

           
“I
understand,” Alan said and then lowered his voice. “Hey, what’s Lauren’s deal, why
is she so hard?”

           
“Well…”
Bear said, “don’t fuck with her, and if she likes you—you’ll know. If she
doesn’t like you—you’ll definitely know.”

           
“She
definitely doesn’t like me,” Alan said as he glanced at her.

           
Lauren
was still brushing the inside of her barrel. She stopped, looked at the inside,
didn’t like it, kept on brushing.

           
Stopped
brushing.

           
Looked.

           
Kept
brushing and at the same time—

           
Brushed
against the memory in her mind—

           
Her
hands were on a steering wheel
…

           
She
stopped brushing.

           
The
dull sun cut through her truck windshield
…

           
She
kept brushing…

           
Harder.

           
She brushed harder
…

DAY
150:

LAUREN
and
 
ADAM

A
couple months ago in San Diego
, parts of town were still smoldering in
the morning sun, but for the most part, the city belonged to the
dead—shrouded in silence and ash—nothing moved, except for one
vehicle as it crept through the side streets and alleyways, trying to avoid
detection as it moved at a slow pace.

           
It
was Lauren’s truck, and she was behind the wheel. Even though the world had
ended, she looked happy, because she wasn’t alone. Seated next to her, was her
fiancé, Adam, in his twenties, soft-spoken kind of guy, but he would do
anything to protect Lauren. They only had one weapon and that was an AK-47 with
a collapsible stock; it was Adam’s gun. The truck cab was a mess; they had
their supplies of food and water stacked in the back seat, along with some
boxes of 7.62 ammunition, but not many. There were food wrappers all over the
floor. This was their home, their only place of refuge.

           
Lauren
stopped the truck at the end of an alley; they had three directions before
them.

           
“Which
way now, Adam?”

           
He
looked at a map. “Uh, straight, into the next alley.”

           
“You
sure?”

           
“Yeah,
I am.”

           
“Okay.”

           
She
slowly proceeded forward to cross the street and continue in the alley. They
looked around as they crossed, there weren’t any faster movers around, only a
few slow movers a couple blocks down the street, but they didn’t notice
Lauren’s truck because it was hardly moving, a snail moved faster, which is how
they remained unnoticed. They made it across and were out of sight in the
alley.

           
The
water in the marina was calm and covered in a viscous layer of dust and ash, this
place harbored boats of pleasure, but those times were gone. All that remained
were just a few defeated vessels, a burned out fishing boat, a couple capsized
sailboats, and a few others, but they didn’t look functional. There were dingy
boats that had no motors or oars. This place was a watery graveyard.

           
Lauren’s
truck pulled up.

           
“Goddamnit,”
Adam muttered under his breath when he saw the marina.

           
“We’re
not gonna find a boat here, are we?”

           
“I’m
gonna go have a look, stay in the truck.”

           
“Okay,”
she said and turned off the truck’s engine.

           
Adam
checked the machine gun—it was loaded—he looked around and the
coast was clear, so he quietly opened the truck door and closed it even quieter
upon exiting. He mouthed to her, “Lock the doors.”

           
Lauren
did, and he proceeded down the pier. The first one he looked at was the fishing
boat; the fire had stripped the boat of what it once was, and nothing on it
would work. He moved down the pier to the next boat and the next. He crossed
over to the next pier to search those boats, as he did, he passed several sea
lion carcasses that were killed by the undead. It wasn’t looking good on that
side of the marina, either.

           
Lauren
watched him check the boats out, he moved farther and farther away, and she
didn’t like it. She disliked like it even more when she lost sight of him as he
walked behind a row of ghost ships. Against her better judgment, she unlocked her
door and stepped out. She cautiously walked to the pier landing and looked to
acquire Adam, but she couldn’t see him.

           
She
kept looking for him…

           
A dead walker appeared from around a corner
behind the truck
…

           
Lauren
didn’t hear it…

           
The
dead thing stumbled along messily on two broken ankles that
crunched
with every step; it wanted to
get to the truck because it saw the open driver’s door.

           
It
didn’t see Lauren, yet…

           
The
bottom half of this corpse was naked and all that it had on was a wife beater
shirt that was brown from dirt and old blood. It got to the truck and looked
in, but no one was inside.

           
Then
it saw her
…

           
Lauren
still looked for Adam; the worry in her eyes was increasing because she hadn’t
spotted him yet and then was relieved when she saw him moving on to inspect the
next boat. She waved to get his attention and he saw her.

           
He
waved back and then his stance suddenly became rigid as he looked at her, Adam waved
both his arms at her in a panic, and she didn’t understand why. Then she became
frightened when he raised the machine gun and aimed it in her direction, but he
didn’t fire, he wasn’t sure of his shot at that distance.

           
Crunch
…

           
Crackle
…

           
Lauren
was confused by what she heard behind her and turned—

           
She
was almost face-to-rotting-face with the dead walker.

           
It
clawed at her, she instinctively lunged back, and it missed her face, but it grabbed
some of her hair.

           
She
cried out in pain as she tried to get away, but the creature was pulling her in,
and then her hair ripped out of her scalp as she fell back. She stared at the
thing that had a fistful of her hair and then she saw the others—there
were three more slow movers that were coming for her—reaching the truck wasn’t
possible, she only had one way to go. Once on her feet, she ran down the pier
to get to Adam. He was running back and they crashed into each other halfway.

           
“Are
you okay, did it touch you?” he asked her in between heavy breaths.

           
Her
heart was racing. “I’m fine…it didn’t touch me.”

           
They
couldn’t get back to the truck, more of them had appeared, about fifteen now,
and they all crowded the pier to get them.

           
“Shit!”
Adam cursed. “Come on, this way!”

           
He
took her hand and led her down the pier, they crossed over to the other pier
with the intention of getting to the other exit, but when they got to the pier
junction—

           
More
of the dead were coming from there, too, including a few fast movers.

           
“Oh
God!” Adam gasped.

           
“What’re
we gonna do?” Lauren asked nervously.

           
Adam
looked for a way out and he saw the shore that was across the marina, it was
about a quarter of a mile swim, but they had no other choice.

           
He
pointed. “There, we gotta swim for it!”

           
She
didn’t like that idea. “Is that the only way?”

           
“Yes!
There’s no other way out and those dead things can’t swim, let’s go!”

           
With
the rifle’s sling, Adam strapped the weapon over his back, and then he took off
his shoes and jeans.

           
The
dead were more than halfway to them…

           
The
fast movers were screeching madly…

           
Lauren
saw them and hesitated out of fear, but she snapped out of it.

           
“Hurry!”
Adam said to her. “I’m not jumping in until you do!”

           
She
took off her boots and jeans. “I love you!”

           
The
dead were steps away…

           
“I
love you, too, now jump!”

           
She
dived in and Adam followed.

           
White
water splashed and they were gone.

           
The
dead got there, and some of them jumped in after them, but they sank.

           
Adam
and Lauren broke the surface and looked back; about thirty of them were raging
at the pier.

           
They
had escaped.

           
Suddenly,
a few feet from them, the water burst into white splash as two of the dead that
jumped in, tried to stay afloat and reach them, but the only swimming skills
they had were the violent thrashing of their arms, so a moment later they sank
to the bottom.

           
Adam
and Lauren swam for the other side and luckily for them the undead on the pier
had no concept that they could cut them off if they doubled back; they stood
there growling like a pack of wolves.

           
Halfway
across, Adam and Lauren’s arm and leg muscles burned; their energy was sapped
out of them quickly.

           
Exhausted,
Lauren said. “My legs are seizing up.”

           
“Mine,
too, but we have to keep going! We’re almost there!”

           
They
pressed on, and by the time they got to the breakwater rocks on the other side,
they were barely able to dogpaddle. Adam pulled himself out and then helped
her. They sat there for a few minutes to catch their breaths and they kept an
eye for any undead on the walkway that was a few feet above them, but it was
clear. Sitting there in her underwear, Lauren shivered uncontrollably, and so did
he.

           
Adam
could see their truck on the other side of the marina—it wasn’t alone, but
surrounded by a dozen or so of the dead, lingering from the human scent in the
truck.

           
“We
can’t get back to the truck right now; there’s too many of them,” Adam said.

           
“We
need to find somewhere to hide,” she said.

           
“Yeah.”

           
Adam
cautiously climbed up the rocks to the walkway and peered over the edge—he
saw some destroyed stores, a burned out dive shop, and some small buildings
down the way, about three blocks from their current position. There were no
undead that he could see. He climbed back down to Lauren. “I didn’t see any of those
things,” he told her.

           
“What
about a place to hide?”

           
“There’s
nothing close by, but I saw some buildings that looked good.”

           
“How
far?”

           
“Maybe
three or four blocks.”

           
She
was very apprehensive. “Do you think we can make it?”

           
“We
have no other choice, Lauren.”

           
“Okay.”

           
“Come
on.”

           
Adam
crawled back up, and Lauren followed. Once at the top, he looked the area over
until he was satisfied that no walkers were around. He climbed onto the walkway
and then helped her up. After which, he got the rifle from his back and made
sure it was loaded. He proceeded carefully across the street with Lauren in tow,
and they took cover in a store doorway as Adam looked ahead. There was no
movement on the street or sidewalk ahead of them, so Adam moved to the next
storefront and a moment later, Lauren followed. When she got to him, she
touched his shoulder and with that, he moved on to the next doorway and the
next.

           
Adam
got to another doorway and stopped to look ahead, Lauren was still at the
previous one, and neither one of them saw the dead walker come out of the store
that Adam was standing in. The old dead thing slowly reached for Adam and touched
his back—he thought it was Lauren behind him so he moved on to the next
door—Lauren was looking behind her when she turned and moved to the next
doorway and almost walked right into the corpse, she quickly staggered back as
it came for her.

           
“Adam!”
she cried out.

           
He
turned back and saw the walker after Lauren; he moved to the street so she
wasn’t in his background and brought the machine gun up to kill it. He pulled
the trigger and the weapon made a low
POP
sound, but no muzzle flash exploded from the barrel’s tip. Unbeknownst to Adam,
water had gotten into some of the machine gun’s bullets and rendered the
gunpowder useless, but the primer in the cartridge chambered still went off,
but didn’t ignite the wet powder.