Useless Bastard

by Hooke, A. J. A.

  It did creep Dave out that he had been walking around in this. Dave was now convinced that something else had caused this and that his rattling of the ladder wasn't what got the attention of all these dead. As a rough guess, Dave estimated that the walkers had most likely started moving along the street about the same time Dave was getting supplies from the store below.

  To have not noticed the walkers showed just how distracted Dave had been. For the walkers to not notice Dave showed Dave just how much the walkers were distracted. But what had the walkers so distracted?

  By now Dave was a bit frustrated. Something was up. Something that the dull senses of the walkers could discern, but were yet invisible to Dave and his senses. As a sign of his frustration, Dave took the now empty soup can that he was holding and tossed it towards a walker that was on the road nearest to Dave. The can clattered noisily on the road for a few moments. The nearby walkers stopped moving and started rolling their heads. But barely five seconds passed before the walkers lost interested and returned to walking towards the west.

  Curious, Dave walked to the barbecue, picked up the can that he had first eaten from, walked back to the side of the roof and lobbed the can as far as he could out onto the road. Again, only the nearest walkers stopped moving. They appeared confused for a few seconds and then they started walking again.

  Dave suddenly looked up from the walkers and stared intently to the west. About a kilometre away Dave could hear gun fire. Not just the sound of a single firearm but it sounded like a lot. Dave wasn't familiar with firearms so he found himself annoyed that he couldn't determine any more information from the sounds than he could.

  He looked back down at the walkers. They were still shuffling along, but now they were just slightly faster. They were moving at a decent walking pace. It seemed that when they heard the gun fire, they had gone from a slow shuffle to a decently fast walking pace. Dave noted to himself that a walking pace seemed to be the walkers' upper speed limit during the day. Calling them "walkers" now seemed even more appropriate as that really was their upper speed limit.

  Dave looked back at the sound of gun fire. He really wanted to get on his bike and dash over and get a closer look. But he was deeply worried that whoever was shooting might not realise that Dave meant no threat and that Dave would find himself being killed unnecessarily. Dave could hear a lot of gunfire. Whoever that was, they were really not holding back.

  Dave decided that it was best to stay safe, and wait until the shooting stopped before trying to investigate. Dave held his impatience in check. Even more walkers had come out onto the roads and were walking west. This was a time for being cautious. Dave looked about the streets below him and could see dozens of walkers shambling towards the gunfire.

  * * *

  There was still some time before the day would transition to twilight so, in theory, it would have been safe being on the streets. Instead, Dave was on a roof where he could safely stare off down the now empty road towards where he had heard gun fire. The gun fire had gone on for about thirty minutes before tapering off. Dave thought that, towards the end, he could hear the sounds of truck engines mixed in with random shots. Then the sounds of the trucks seemed to move off to Dave's left, going in a southerly direction from wherever they were. The sound of shooting followed the trucks for a little before fading out.

  Without any clear vision of what happened Dave could only take futile guesses.

  Dave took the chance to walk about the top of the roof of the store where he was currently resting up. He looked over the roads and side alleys and he couldn't see any movement. The way that the gun fire had brought the walkers out onto the street had surprised him. There were only two occasions where Dave had seen a lot of walkers on the street during daylight hours. The general daylight invisibility of the dead didn't remove the vague sense of oppression that hung over everything.

  And the pattern was clearly being established. At night the plain grey walkers would appear in numbers, while during the day the greys with the yellow patches would appear only if summoned by noise. Besides the difference in skin tone there was a difference in speed. Even when highly motivated (whatever that meant to the walkers) the greys with yellow patches only ever walked. It was the pure grey ones that seemed to be able to run a bit, or at least run in bursts.

  Dave pondered modifying his taxonomy. Walkers would be the day variants - that is the grey ones with yellow patches. Dashers would be the night variants - the ones with pure grey skin. The talkers remained as the mystery versions that talked. Dave was scratching his head at how unsatisfactory this classification appeared. It barely described the cosmetic differences and seemed to lack any helpful insight. But the sight of a familiar form walking into the road intersection surprised Dave.

  Waving, Dave whispered, "hey! Hey!"

  He was careful to not be too loud, but the figure stopped and looked up at Dave.

  Dave pointed towards the ladder. "Come around to the side. I'll lower the ladder."

  The figure stood looking at Dave for a moment before walking around to the ladder. It was nearly impossible to lower the ladder without making noise, but Dave was getting familiar enough with how it worked in order to keep the sound to what he felt was a safe level. When the ladder reached the ground, the new arrival climbed up the ladder while Dave kept a look out.

  This figure was pretty much exactly how Dave remembered him. Full face helmet, camo clothes, plate-carrier vest, various military add-ons, and some weapons.

  "Fancy running into you again," said Dave.

  "Again?"

  "Yeah, you're the DOA guy."

  "You know about DOA?"

  Dave frowned. "Sorry. You looked like the guy that I saw before. He was dressed exactly like you. I'm not a particular expert on military gear, so all I can say that you look exactly like him."

  "Where did you see him?"

  Dave pointed east, back towards the city hub. "It was basically on the edge of the city area. I was looking for a camping store and he helped me find one."

  "I'm surprised that he revealed the name of our organisation."

  "DOA? Bit of weird name. Dead on arrival. You could have picked a more optimistic name."

  The DOA man laughed. "He only told you the initials?"

  "Yeah. I had to guess at the words from what I knew."

  "Well, it was a fair enough guess, but DOA actually means 'Defenders Of Australia'."

  "I've never heard of them."

  "That was the goal. The members are people who were scouted and recruited based on skill and politics."

  "Politics? Are you some sort of revolutionary group?"

  "No, the opposite. When I say 'politics', what I really mean is a complete lack of politics. Our role is to be defenders. If some crisis comes to Australia then we are to appear and do what we can to help. We help everyone regardless of their politics."

  "It certainly is a crisis. But I'm guessing this is a little bit out of any scenario that you planned for."

  "It's so unplanned for that, to be honest, it's hard to figure out what to do."

  Dave looked out over the now empty streets. "I'm not a firearms expert but I'm guessing that you don't have enough firepower to clear out the streets."

  "It's hard to admit, but it's true. I spend most of my time just running about trying to figure out what's going on."

  "I'm like that too," said Dave pulling a notepad out of his backpack.

  He flipped through a few pages and opened up on some notes.

  "Previously I had though that there were two types of infected."

  "Infected?"

  "Well, the condition seems to be transmitted through biting, so I'm going with the theory of infectious disease until I can find out otherwise."

  "Fair enough. So what are these types?"

  "At first I went with type names based on function. I saw two main types of function. Those that walked and those that talked. So, previously, that gave an initial pair of walkers and talkers
."

  The DOA man stepped back as if alarmed. "Talkers?"

  "They only come out at night. But I don't really know much about them. No matter how brave I like to think of myself, the moment a talker appears I end up hiding away under some blankets like a child. Have you encountered any talkers?"

  The DOA man hesitated. "I try to stay off the streets at night."

  "I never really understood why, but that's something that I did as well right from the very start. But early on I once dared to watch the night streets from a balcony. The sound of the talkers drove me to hide indoors."

  "Yes. I've not seen a talker up close but I still heard it."

  "At first I thought I was going crazy. I heard all these odd whisper noises. But they are clearly trying to communicate."

  "Communicate? To whom?"

  "I have no idea. I'm hoping that I can explore this somehow and find answers. But the more I think about these talkers the more confused I get. Why do the dead need to talk?"

  "You said something about 'previously'."

  "Ah yes. I used to have a single group called walkers. But just before you arrived I was thinking about breaking it up into two groups - walkers and dashers - with the functional difference of how those that move during the day being compared to those that move at night."

  "A walker and a dasher could be the some creature."

  "That's an option that I've got no data on. My definition is based on function. Other descriptive systems are possible."

  Dave looked up at the sky. There's was still a decent amount of light but night was still coming fast. "I feel like we have a lot to talk about. How would you like to spend the night here."

  The DOA man stood still for a moment. "That's tempting. But I was following a strange migration of walkers."

  "They were probably attracted to the shooting."

  "I thought that I heard something like that."

  Dave pointed down the road to the west. "It all happened just down the road a bit. Being on this roof, I probably was able to hear clearer than yourself."

  The DOA nodded. "It's quiet now."

  "It only lasted about half a hour. Then there were the sounds of trucks rumbling off south."

  "I better go check it out."

  "Even though it's over?"

  "It's probably safest now, but I want to track this group as soon as possible. If there's a group out there with lots of guns then I'd feel better if I could identify them."

  "I was thinking of checking out the scene myself, but I was going to visit it tomorrow. I'm worried that there might be a large crowd of walkers over there. And I don't have anything to deal with them."

  "Honestly. I'm a bit overwhelmed by what's happened to give advice. But I am impressed that you're trying to understand what's going on. If it isn't presumptuous of me, do you mind if I ask that you continue with your investigations?"

  "I'm not sure how helpful I can be. I'm just brain dead office worker. Sure I had the title of 'analyst', but that was only in the field of business. There's so much about this that is unknown that I can't even begin to frame a starting query."

  "You're the first person that I've found who has even begun asking anything. Everyone just seems confused. Maybe there are better qualified people out there, however that's irrelevant if those people are not doing anything. I'd prefer a half-wit doing his best then a genius doing nothing."

  "Hey. Are you calling me a half-wit?"

  The DOA man laughed. "No. Maybe you lack certain skills, but you have an analytical mind. Just having that way of thinking might be ground breaking."

  Dave looked around the empty streets. "Well, it's not like I have anything else to do."

  The DOA man nodded. "Well. I got to go."

  "Good luck. And be safe."

  The DOA man nodded again and reached out a hand towards Dave. "You too."

  Dave took the DOA man's hand and gave it a good shake.

  The DOA man turned, climbed over the half-wall and onto the ladder. He quickly climbed down the ladder and began walking down the road to the west. He stopped for a moment to give Dave a wave. There was a pause and the DOA man continued walking west while Dave slowly raised the ladder.

  Dave looked over to his notepad and muttered to himself: "Better dig out a pen. I got a lot to think about."

  * * *

  The next morning, with the sun barely on the horizon, Dave finished packing up his gear before having a final look about the rooftop where he had spent the night, checking to see if he had forgotten anything. He walked to the ladder and carefully lowered it while trying to make as little noise as possible. He looked about the streets below and saw nothing of note.

  Dave shouldered his backpack and secured its straps. He stepped onto the ladder, climbed down and walked to the front of the store where he had left his bike. He looked about but the stillness was only interrupted by his own presence. He pushed the bike away from the store's wall and into the middle of the road.

  He took one last look about before mounting the bike and riding along the road to the west. Dave was curious about the events of yesterday and pushed himself to move faster than he would normally ride. Thankfully the road wasn't obstructed too badly with abandoned vehicles. Although he was moving faster than normal he still made a point to stop himself from being fixated on what was in front of him. Danger could still come from any direction.

  He hadn't been able to see the location of the shooting sounds the day before because a slight curve in the road that had blocked his view. So when Dave reached the curve and could see around it, he could see something surprising: a make-shift defensive position. It was in an intersection to some main roads.

  The intersection was a small, local shopping area. As Dave rode up to the intersection he could see a supermarket on the furthest corner on his left. To his immediate left was a clothing store that also seem to have camping equipment. On the far right of the intersection was a cafe. And to his immediate right was a pub. Around this hub were a variety of other stores that Dave would find later like post offices, a small police station, a butchers, and other tiny businesses.

  Dave stopped in front of a line of defences that blocked the road. The defences were simple, made from random materials that had most likely been found nearby. The defence walls were all made in a similar way. Large vehicles like buses or cargo trucks were parked across the roads accessing the intersection in order to block off as much of the road as possible in one action. If there was any room left over then small vans were wedged into the gaps to create a continuous wall of vehicles that stretched across the roads. Slabs of concrete, clearly lifted out of the nearby sidewalks, were placed over any spaces that could let a person walk through. Random rubble like concrete pieces and stones were wedged in all manner of left-over spaces underneath and between the vehicles. This created a rough but continuous wall that linked the four buildings that were at the corner of the intersection, creating a defensive position at the intersection itself.

  Dave clambered up the wall and stood looking over the intersection. The roofs of the buses and trucks had been where the defenders had stood. Dave had to be careful not to slip on the hundreds of empty bullet casing that were underfoot. But it was a sight that made no sense at all. Dave could imagine each wall had thousands of its own empty bullet casings but there wasn't a single thing to show for it.

  With thousands of rounds fired, Dave should have found some bodies. Human or not. Something. Anything. Even assuming an unrealistic miss rate, there should have been something to see. All Dave could see were defences, and the signs that the defences were used, but there was no sign of any of the actors that had been involved in what happened.

  In the middle of the intersection was a somewhat organised pile of crates, making what looked like a supply depot. Dave felt a tingle of excitement. Surely within one of those boxes was a forgotten firearm and some ammunition for it. Dave had spent so long feeling defenceless that the prospect of gaining some sort of offensive
power made him giddy with excitement.

  Carelessly, Dave dropped down from the wall and started picking through the military-looking crates. It wasn't difficult to search through them as the crates were all opened. Because of that it took only a few seconds for Dave to see that all the crates were empty. There was no miracle weapon to save Dave and his spirits slumped faster and deeper than he expected. He internally berated himself and tried to rally himself.

  Dave could only surmise that these had been ammunition crates. Whoever had been here had fought until they had run low on ammunition and then abandoned this base. Dave then remembered hearing vehicles being driven south from this intersection and so he walked to the southern defensive wall and climbed up.

  By the lack of empty bullet casings on this wall, Dave could tell that this wall hadn't been placed under a lot less pressure. Looking over at the other walls Dave could roughly estimate that the east and northern walls had been the locations of the most shooting. The west wall had roughly a quarter of the empty casings as the east wall. The south wall had almost no casings on it. Why most of the combat was directed to the north-east was a mystery to Dave.

  Not expecting to see anything, Dave looked south and received a rather large shock. Dave had seen a lot of roads on his journey and though the exact density varied there were alway some cars and other vehicles on the roads. But what shocked Dave so much about the road leading off to the south was that there was nothing on the roads.

  For as far as Dave could see to the south, the roads had been cleared with all abandoned vehicles pushed off the roads. The area south looked to have a number of semi-rural housing blocks, so there was plenty of space to get the vehicles completely off the road. This wasn't the sort of task that one long man could do and Dave wondered what sort of organisation existed that could clear the roads in this way.

  Dave looked south then looked back at the intersection that had been made into a defensive position. An idea was beginning to ease into his mind. Although he was tempted to head south, another purpose was forming in his mind. It was a bit of a crazy purpose and so Dave couldn't bring himself to state the purpose clearly, even to himself.