ZNIPER: A Sniper’s Journey Through The Apocalypse.

by Ward III, C.

  “That’s not fair! People have to get stuff! Just because the power’s out…how are we supposed to get our smokes? This can’t be legal,” she shouted as she shook the doors violently. “Come on, brats, let’s go to the stupid grocery store.”

  When she made it to Budgens’ Grocery Store, she felt a welling desperation. Not only were their doors locked as well but she could also clearly see through the large windowpanes that the shelves and coolers were completely empty. She cursed and kicked the door in frustration. Her house was about five miles north of town, right on the main road. She’d rather walk home than go back to her belittling boyfriend, and besides, she had a couple days’ worth of food in her kitchen pantry.

  She was hot and tired. Her flip-flops were killing her feet. Her sweat-stained shirt was starting to chafe her armpits. She walked with her head down, only looking up to turn and yell at the kids to catch up. Turning forward again, looking through the heavy mirage boiling up from the asphalt, she spotted an old red pickup truck parked sideways across the road. Thinking nothing of it—in fact, excited by the possibility of finding some sodas, snacks, or, lord willing, a pack of cigarettes—she picked up her pace, flip-flopping down the road.

  As she reached for the passenger-side door handle, a tall man holding a metal pipe rounded the front of the truck. “Well, well, well. What do we have here?”

  It all happened so quickly. Two other men crawled out of the ditch, seizing Max and Tina. The tall man pushed Kate down, grabbed her by the hair, and then sadistically dragged her behind the truck.

  “Shut your mouth, woman, or we’ll gut your filthy kids,” he snarled into her ear. Yet she still struggled under him, jerking and bucking until one of the other men open hand smacked her face, then pinned her hands to the painfully hot pavement.

  The tall man laid on top of her, wrestling her legs apart. After walking all this way from town, she didn’t have much strength to put up a fight. With little effort, he got to his knees, ready to claim his barbaric prize. With an evil, lustful laugh, he tilted his head back to the sky and howled like the wild animal he was.

  His ritualistic howl was cut short by a .308 caliber, 175 gr boat tail hollow point bullet entering the back of his skull, sending energy waves through the soft brain tissue. The bullet remnants, along with secondary projectiles of skull fragments, exited his face to impact the stomach of the second man binding her hands. A second shot rang out before his heavy, bloody corpse landed on top of Kate.

  She could hear her children’s muffled screams. Kate didn’t realize that she was also screaming hysterically while fighting frantically to get out from underneath the dead man that was covering her in warm, sticky fluid. She stood up in a daze. Max and Tina ran around the truck to her. Someone else was also running toward her. Shouting. Waving. Confusion.

  “Move! Move! Get out of the way! Move!” He was running down the steep grassy embankment right toward her.

  She was a petrified statue. The apparition bounded past her, swinging a very large rifle like a golf club, striking the moaning gut-shot man trying to crawl away. She heard a sickening wet crack as the bottom of the rifle struck the bastard who had slapped her face earlier.

  Her hero strapped the rifle/club over his shoulder, then pulled a pistol off his hip, aiming it wildly here and there, circling the truck, aiming down in the ditches, going to each bloody mess lying on the pavement, kicking each one in the groin. None of the bodies moved.

  “Are you OK?” he asked, looking at her, at the children, around them in the distance. “Are you hurt? Come here, sit on the tailgate. Here, drink this water. Hey, kiddos, are you OK? What are your names?”

  “I’m Max, sir. My sister’s name is Tina. This is my mom.”

  “Where are you heading? Why are you on the road?”

  “Home, sir. We live just over there, around that next bend.”

  He patted them down quick. “No signs of holes. Looks like you’re going to live.” The man turned around to look toward the grassy knoll he’d come from. He put a hand straight up, then made several circle shapes in the air. Three people of different sizes stood from the top of the hill, then started walking toward them.

  “My name is Victor. This is Curtis, my oldest son; Michael and Zavier. Curtis, check the truck for anything usable. You say you live just over there? You should get going now.”

  “You shouldn’t walk on the roads anymore,” Michael chastised.

  “And you should have weapons to protect yourselves,” Zavier added.

  When Curtis opened the truck, it made a familiar ding, ding, ding sound. Everyone perked up. He reached in and turned the ignition key, starting a roaring engine. “Why does this truck work?”

  “Old vehicle, no microchips. Carbureted, not electronic fuel injected. Maybe it was in a metal barn. That’s about the extent of my mechanical knowledge.”

  Kate asked with a shaky voice, “Can we take the truck?”

  “Not a chance. This truck is our good-deed savior fee. Although we will take it into town, where it’ll be put to communal good use.”

  “There’s nothing left in town. We just came from there. All the stores are empty. Can you give us a ride home?”

  “Nope. You get to finish walking home while contemplating how lucky you are to be alive and how best to stay that way,” Victor said flatly.

  “Good evening. This is Elizabeth Corrin bringing you today’s BBN global news reports. EU and UN officials announced today that relief efforts inbound to the United States have again been postponed as a result of troubling international financial uncertainties. The Chinese government has guaranteed early emergency medical supplies and personnel, along with shipments of emergency food rations, to be delivered this week.

  “Adding further fears to international financial crises, several Islamic Terrorist groups, who recently claimed responsibility for the US attack, are now promising equally devastating attacks across Europe. UK parliament has ensured that all resources available are being used to bring these terrorists to justice, including full cooperation between NATO and Russian military forces now actively involved in antiterrorism campaigns in northern Africa, Yemen, and Pakistan.

  “In other news, fuel-shortage easements are on the way as OPEC nations are prepared to resume oil production and distribution as the entire oil commodities market has now switched from the US dollar to the precious metals– and energy-backed BRICS credit.

  “Next, we have a breaking World Health Organization report from Mexico—but first a commercial break…”

  Dan woke up early to a chill in the damp morning air. Stretching his arms out wide, rubbing his dry eyes, and rolling to his side, he noticed the pink color through the forest canopy on the eastern horizon. He rolled over with an exaggerated sigh, then stood up, stretching again.

  “Anny, I thought you were going to wake us up for watch?” Dan said as he moved closer to the fire, kneeling down to add another log.

  “Wasn’t tired. Couldn’t sleep anyway,” she said, staring into the fire.

  “I can understand that; this ground is unforgiving. But you must be exhausted. Are you feeling OK?” He warmed his hands next to the smoldering coals.

  “What’s it to you? You just want me to sleep defenseless so you can murder me like you did that fat guy on the way here.”

  “Whoa, Anny, hold on, there! What are you talking about? No one is going to hurt you. We’re a team. I get it. What happened back there was quite traumatic and disturbing to say the least. But no one here is out to get you. Is that why you can’t sleep?” he asked with concern.

  “Forget it.” She stood up and stormed off into the woods, out of sight.

  He shook his head a bit out of confusion, then tossed a couple more logs onto the fire. He stirred the coals around and leaned down close to the base, expelling a full lung gust of air. The coals blew bright yellow, then ignited the smoldering kindling.

  Dan set four cleaned-out soup cans on the rocks lining the firepit. After adding
water from a nearby stream, he watched as the cups began to boil. It wasn’t perfect, but boiling would kill most of the bacteria in the water. Between the sediment and the tin-can taste, the water was horrible, but he had a secret weapon. He sifted through the outside pocket of his backpack until he found the hidden treasure: instant coffee, powdered creamer, and sugar singles.

  Using a rolled-up shirt as an oven mitt, he set down a can of coffee next to Kevin and Stephan, then gently nudged them awake. “Careful, the coffee is nuclear hot,” he warned.

  “Oh, man…where did you get this?” Kevin asked with a yawn.

  “Security Office before we bailed out.”

  “Oh, Dan, I love you. You’re a saint,” Stephan said, struggling to get upright.

  Dan grabbed the last can of coffee and headed out into the bush to find Anny. After several minutes of searching the area, he returned to camp, still holding the can of coffee.

  “Where’s Anny?” asked Kevin.

  He shrugged. “I don’t know. Maybe she’s going number two. I don’t think she’s feeling all that well.” Dan went on to describe the morning’s strange dialogue between he and Anny. “I know we have a long way to go, but how about we stay here for the day? Maybe do a little hunting? Give everyone a hiking pause to clear our mind and rest the legs. Refocus?”

  “The sooner we get to our destinations, the better. As each day goes on, good people will become hungry and desperate. Desperate people do desperate things. The veil of civilized society is very thin. It won’t take long for violence to become the new societal norm,” Kevin said.

  “I agree with Dan. Let’s take a rest day. We all want to get there as soon as possible, but if Anny is ill, it won’t do us any good to keep pushing. And if we are just trudging along with our heads down, we’ll likely get ourselves killed on the way,” Stephan argued.

  They stayed the day, each taking turns guarding camp. Dan spent time gathering more water from the nearby stream, straining and boiling the best he could, filling every available container. Kevin scouted around for small game, edible berries, mushrooms, or whatever he could find useful, which wasn’t much. Stephan went downstream to rinse out her clothes and hung them on a branch to dry while she took a cold river bath.

  At camp later in the afternoon, Dan and Stephan watched Kevin carefully skin a porcupine he’d knocked out of a tree earlier in the day. “I’m told that these are good eatin’. Too bad we don’t have any potatoes and carrots and a big ol’ pot to stew this in,” Kevin said wistfully.

  As they finished cleaning up and getting ready to spit their dinner over the fire, Anny walked around a tree, startling them all.

  “Hey, Anny. Where have you been? We got worried. We went looking for you. We thought maybe you decided to stay in that town back there. We’re about to cook dinner,” Stephan said.

  “I’m not hungry,” Anny said flatly.

  “Are you OK? You look kind of pale. You didn’t have any fish last night. When’s the last time you ate?” asked Kevin.

  Anny stood there for a moment with glassy eyes, looking in their direction but not at them. As if she was looking past them, daydreaming.

  “Anny?”

  “That’s not my name. Not my real name, anyway.”

  “Anny isn’t your name? We all used aliases at work—protocol that doesn’t really matter much now. Danial was my grandfather’s name. He died in World War II. I took his name in his honor.”

  “My name is Kevin, went by Leprechaun for obvious heritage reasons. What’s your real name Anny?”

  “I don’t remember. I can’t remember. It’s right there, at the front of my mind, but I can’t grasp it,” Anny said, staring at them blankly. “I’m having trouble recalling a lot of things. I can’t remember where we’re going. I know we have a destination. Someplace safe? I can’t remember where, though…” she trailed off.

  “Anny. Look, our world was tossed upside down. We’ve gone through some disturbing events. You haven’t slept in how long? If you can stomach it, you really should try to eat something and lay down. It’s safe here; we can stay as long as we need to,” Stephan proposed.

  Anny turned around without a word, stumbled over to tree, and sat down on the ground, leaning back against her backpack and slumping her head against the tree.

  The sun had gone down hours ago. The three of them stood around the campfire, arguing.

  “Look at her! She needs a doctor. Serious medical attention!” Dan said while pointing toward Anny, who had been restlessly tossing back and forth, moaning incoherently.

  “Back in Tawas, where we made landfall, there was a Raven Medical Center where Route 55 dead-ends at the lake. I highly doubt it’s still open. In fact, it was probably looted days ago, but maybe we ask around town for help. Surely doctors and nurses are still in the area,” Kevin suggested.

  “I don’t know, but she’s not healthy,” Stephan said. “She’s kind of scaring me. This is serious.”

  Right then, Anny materialized out of the darkness, standing opposite of the fire. Even in the dark, with only flickering campfire casting dancing shadows over her skin, she was ghostly pale. Her clothes were dirty from lying on the damp forest floor. Her dark hair was matted and hanging over her face. And the smell…that smell that came from a soiled baby diaper. “You’re talking about me. Conspiring?” Anny said in a low, raspy voice, slowly rotating her stare. “You’re going to kill me. Take my food and weapons.”

  Dan put up his hands. “Anny, we’re worried about you. We are going to find you a—”

  Without warning, Anny dove across the fire, tackling Dan to the ground, kicking up sparking logs and coals. Screaming. Punching. Clawing. Dan put his hands out, trying to block the relentless melee, searching for purchase to gain control. Reaching across his chest, he was able to trap her forearms. He lifted one knee and shifted his hips, positioning himself for a defensive roll.

  She sat on top of him in full mount with the heels of her shoes locked behind his leg. Before Dan could engage his countermove, she arched back and shrieked a terrifying mix of agony and rage. Lunging back down with force that bypassed Dan’s obstructing arm hold, she bit into his trapezius muscle, scraping teeth against his clavicle as he cursed in pain.

  Kevin ran forward, lifted his knee to his chest, and then extended his leg with every muscle he had, planting his boot against Anny’s shoulder and kicking her off Dan. She rolled twice and landed in a squat. She coiled, her face covered in wet blood. She screamed again and sprung into an attack toward Kevin.

  In his peripheral vision, he could see Dan holding his shoulder with blood flowing through his fingers; he watched Stephan, wide-eyed, draw her holstered Glock; and he saw a feral looking Anny flying through the air with outstretched hands right toward him.

  Kevin stepped back and caught his foot on a protruding tree root. He fell backward, snapping a small tree on his way down, and landed heavily on his back with a thud, knocking the air out of him. Anny landed at his feet, her hands grasping his boots, and she remained there, convulsing.

  He quickly jumped to his feet in a defensive fighting stance, breathing heavily. Stephan ran to him with her pistol pointed down at Anny’s twitching, twisted form. Blood sprayed upward like a mini geyser where the broken sapling tree had punctured right through the side of her neck.

  “That bitch bit me!” Dan yelled from behind them.

  “Oh, man. Oh, dear Lord. What did we do?” Kevin said with a quiver in his voice, leaning forward to administer some sort of first aid. He had to do something. As he bent down reaching for Anny’s head, Stephan yanked him back, causing him to land on his butt. “Are you crazy? We have to stop that bleeding!” he shouted.

  “Look!” Stephan said, kneeling down next to the large puddle of blood flowing into a low spot on the forest floor. She knelt carefully next to the growing pool, leaning left and right, then gazing back to Anny’s still-twitching body.

  “What is it?” Dan asked, holding onto a tree for support with h
is other hand while applying pressure to his shoulder wound.

  She took the light off her pistol, holstered the gun, and then turned on the light shining it into the bloodstream. “Look at the blood. The black wisps swirling in it. That’s not soil or debris,” Stephan said, looking up at Dan’s shoulder fearfully. “She was infected.”

  “Welcome back to BBN. This is Elizabeth Corrin bringing you a World Health Organization report out of Mexico. Authorities have reported an unidentified ‘aggressively spreading’ pathogen has plagued the small town of La Cabellera, located fifty miles south of the US–Mexico border. The WHO asks anyone in northern Mexico to report any persons with symptoms of prominent rashes and/or unusual paranoid hostility. Transmission methods are still being investigated.

  “In local news, the highly anticipated football game between Barcelona and Manchester United has finally been rescheduled…”

  STAGE TWO

  UMBRA

  The brightest light casts the darkest shadows.

  Sheriff Bohner strolled up the sidewalk, assessing the damage from yesterday’s fire. It supposedly had been started by accident when a makeshift moonshine still had been tipped over, igniting combustibles in a garage. The only available emergency response action had been to warn the neighbors, then sit back and watch house after house burn. Thirteen homes on this block, all reduced to smoldering piles of ash. Luckily, most of the structures were unoccupied vacation homes. The homes with permanent residents would need to be relocated.

  He had just crossed Main Street, looking both ways for traffic out of habit and examining a still-smoking pile of wreckage that had been a house yesterday, when he caught a familiar sound far off in the distance. Second-guessing himself, he stood tall, rotating left and right, trying to catch the sound again.

  He then watched an old red truck slowly negotiate a maze of stalled-out vehicles in the street and come to a casual stop in front of him. He recognized the driver of the old pickup right away. Without emotion—or mentioning the fact that the boys were riding in the bed of the truck with their rifles illegally—Sheriff Bohner asked, “That’s not your truck, Victor. Where did you get it?”