by Tristan Vick
He burst into the infield of the stadium. He glanced up at the dead and burnt-out husk of the wingless capsule of the passenger jet that was lodged in the stadium stands just above center-right field. Its broken tail read Flight 93Z. The metal beast sat lodged in the stands like a giant steel caterpillar, spewing out maggots of the living dead.
Rays of light, like a spotlight, bled down into the stadium through the gaping hole of the roof above where the jet had torn through and lit the circumference of the baseball diamond. This allowed Kevin to see Saeko lying motionless between first and second base as two dozen monsters gathered around her like vultures.
Saeko heard his voice and tears immediately flooded into her eyes. Even though her body was already numb with shock, she somehow managed to turn her head in time to see him heading toward her position. She didn’t want him to see her like this. Not like this. Never like this.
Fueled with rage, Kevin tore out his katana from the elegant wine-red sheath strapped to his waist and slashed through the face of the first zombie he met. It was a woman with a frizzy perm. A secretary or a flight attendant. It didn’t matter. He only had one goal in mind—to save her.
His blade flashed hot white as he cut into another zombie’s skull, this time a fat man wearing a cheap, poorly fitted brown suit, and just as quickly he tore the sword back out. Blood splatter laced with gray matter seemed to wobble in midair as if time slowed to a crawl. In that space, where everything slowed, Kevin’s heart sped as he killed everything in sight.
Kevin spun and, in one fluid motion, sliced the head off the next zombie shambling up behind him. It looked like it may have been the captain of the crashed plane, and both it and the bearded elderly man behind it hit the ground at the same time. Two birds with one swipe of the katana. Kevin repositioned himself as he waited for the next attack.
“What are you waiting for, you sons of bitches?!” he shouted, attempting to draw their attention toward him and off of Saeko, who lay mangled and bleeding to death several feet away. “Come and get me!”
24
Just One Gear: Overdrive
Tokyo Dome, Midtown Tokyo, Japan
Adrenaline pumped through Kevin’s veins and gave him a strength he never knew he’d possessed. Proof was in the power of the blows he dealt each white-eyed zombie. With his newborn strength, he lopped off entire appendages in a single swipe of his blade. Severed arms, legs, and heads littered the infield of the baseball diamond. One after another, Frosties shambled up to him, and one after another they dropped to the ground like bugs hit by the nasty blue spark of a bug-zapper.
Soon enough, the infield looked like it was littered with the husks of nearly a hundred bodies. And more swarmed around him, circling him like hungry vultures, but Kevin was too amped up on adrenaline and rage to care. Either they were going down or he was. There were no alternatives. Not while Saeko lay bleeding to death just meters away from him.
Roaring with an unbridled fury, Kevin took a fat salary man’s head clean off with a single swipe and then stomped on the head. Its skull crunched under his boot like a large egg.
As the monsters closed in on him, Kevin didn’t care that the odds were two dozen to one. Nor did he care that the odds were growing worse by the minute, as the zombies swarmed around him like an angry flurry of wasps. The God of War possessed him, and no matter how terrifyingly the monsters hissed and growled he matched their voracious din with thunderous cries of his own. But unlike their mindless, meaningless utterances, his cries were filled with unadulterated hatred and rage.
If Prometheus, in his torment, had ever screamed so loudly it would have moved the gods to pity.
25
No Mercy for Romeo and Juliet
Tokyo Dome, Midtown Tokyo, Japan
Every swipe of blood-saturated steel brought Kevin that much closer to exhaustion. That much closer to the brink of a fate worse than death. But he didn’t care. All he cared about was killing the monsters—all of them.
Without warning, the massive form of a broad-shouldered baseball player lurched up from behind him. It wore a Tokyo Giants jersey and had only one eyelid. The other had been torn clean off. He barely caught him out of the corner of his eye and spun around in time to see the All-Star facing him with an unsettling gaze. Growling, the zombie baseball player lurched at Kevin.
With expert timing, Kevin ducked down and pulled off a near-perfect roundhouse kick. The sweeping kick took the lumbering All-Star’s feet out from under him, and the behemoth crashed down to the ground with a harsh thud.
“Strike one,” he said as he watched the monster struggle to get back up.
Rising back up on his wobbly knees, the meat-head took a fruitless swipe at Kevin, who easily side-stepped out of the way. Swinging his sword like a baseball bat, Kevin cut into the big leaguer’s torso at his waist and cut the creature in half.
“Strike two.”
Kevin looked down to see the wild-eyed All-Star bearing his teeth like a rabid dog. Then the infected ballplayer growled at Kevin and clacked his teeth ferociously. But Kevin was too filled with rage to let such a pathetic creature live. Walking up to the top half of the All-Star, Kevin looked down at the hideous thing, looked it right in its whitewashed eyes, and slowly slid his sword into its skull.
“Strike three,” Kevin growled through clinched teeth.
Suddenly, a hand landed on Kevin’s shoulder. Within a split second, Kevin reflexively tucked down into a ball and rolled out of the way. His sword still pinning the All-Star’s face to the ground, Kevin reached behind his jacket and drew out a large Bowie knife.
The zombie staggered forward but looked perplexed. Where had the prey gone? But before it could turn all the way around to find him, Kevin casually walked back up and sliced the creature’s head right in half, the way one would chop a melon in two. The creature’s head slowly slid off the lower half of its jaw and then landed on the ground at Kevin’s feet.
“Kevin!” a weak, barely audible voice called out.
Turning back toward where Saeko lay, Kevin saw four zombies hunched over her, feasting on her organs. Even though he was running on fumes, this terrible sight reignited his rage.
“Get away from her!” he hollered. Not wasting a moment, he dashed over to the group, his jaw clinched so tightly he felt his would crumble inside his mouth, he came upon the first zombie, a smallish woman, and gave her a swift kick to her sternum. “Leave her alone!”
The female zombie toppled over and hit the ground. This caught the attention of the adjacent zombie, who looked up from feasting on Saeko’s entrails just long enough to see what all the commotion was.
The first petite female zombie was struggling to get back up off the ground, but before she could push herself halfway up, Kevin was already standing over her. Raising his boot high, he reiterated his warning. “I said,” he snarled,” Leave her alone!”
With that, he slammed his foot down onto the girl monster’s skull. A skin-prickling crunch sounded as her skull caved in.
Looking up, Kevin saw a dozen more creatures closing in on him. At this rate, he’d never get them all off Saeko before her last breath.
“Enough of this bullshit,” Kevin mumbled, and he drew out an Uzi from the inside of his jacket. It was one of the few guns he had swiped—found it on a dead Yakuza earlier that week. It was always meant for a last resort, since the sound of gunfire always seemed to draw too much unwanted attention. With his blade starting to weigh heavy, however, he knew he had to take drastic measures.
Exploding from the barrel, a spray of rapid fire finished off the remaining dozen monsters. Kevin squeezed down on the trigger until he emptied the entire magazine. Once out of bullets, Kevin tossed the gun to the ground. There was not use keeping it since he didn’t have any additional ammunition. It was just dead weight.
“You asshole.”
Kevin rushed over to where Saeko lay and knelt beside her broken body. Ignoring the fact that hardly anything below her breasts remained, he
took her face in his hands and stared into her bloodshot eyes. In the past month he’d only ever seen her cry once. It was the day she realized that they couldn’t stay in the city any longer. The day they both realized the greater Tokyo area was lost to the living dead.
Kevin wiped the blood away from her chin with his thumb, but it only smeared it around and made it all the worse.
Gripping her tight, he wanted to say something. He wanted to tell her it would all be alright, but he knew that was just a lie.
Saeko coughed up more blood, then whispered, “I’m scared.”
“Don’t be,” Kevin replied, his voice catching in his throat. Touching her face, a tear fell from his eye as he said, “I’m right here. I’m right here with you, till the end.”
“No,” Saeko said, choking on saliva. “You have to leave me.” Blood gurgled up from the back of her throat and bubbled up from her lips. She spat the excess out. This only seemed to make her cough even more violently than before, and more blood spilled down her chin. Kevin wiped it off with the cuff of his sleeve, but it did little good.
“But...” he protested with a sniffle, “I need you. I can’t do this without you.”
Looking up at him one last time, Saeko wheezed, “I love you …” then her gaze drifted off, her head rocked to the side, and from beneath heavy eyelids she stared vacantly out at the nearby dugout.
“No!” Kevin cried. All he wanted to do was scream so loud that it would shatter the world. But his body and voice were both halted by fatigue. All he could do was sit there and weep.
Sobbing relentlessly, he held Saeko’s head in his lap and rocked back and forth for what seemed like hours. And he waited. Waited for her to turn into something else.
Slicing through the miserable silence came the shriek of a woman’s voice so earth-shatteringly clear that Kevin snapped out of his forlorn daze and looked toward the direction from where it had come. Craning his neck, he listened for another clue as to the exact location of the shriek. When nothing came though, he fell back into his gloomy state.
As he sat in silence, staring down at Saeko’s blood-painted yet oddly tranquil face, an even louder shriek pierced the air. Kevin cringed but tried his best to ignore it. He wanted to ignore it so badly, but then it sounded again, and again. And no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t get it out of his head that he had to do something—that he couldn’t just keep ignoring a plea for help.
The woman’s voice seemed to be coming from just outside the stadium, in the direction of the amusement park that sat next to the Tokyo Dome.
“Shit,” Kevin grumbled. Reluctantly, he picked himself up and gently laid Saeko down onto the soft dirt of the infield. Taking of his jacket, he placed it over her disfigured body, since there was no time to give her a proper burial. Besides, he couldn’t bring himself to end her before she turned. It just didn’t seem right somehow. After laying the jacket on her, Kevin reached his hand over Saeko’s face and gently closed her eyelids. “I’ll be back,” he whispered.
Fate was cold, Kevin thought. Fate was cruel. Fate was a merciless bitch who enjoyed toying with the strings of the living, plucking them like a harpist, so each joy and sorrow vibrated so profoundly that it shook the entirety of one’s being, even shifting the course of one’s destiny. Fate knew no mercy though, and sometimes she’d simply cut a string and let her marionette fall away, never to dance again. And there wasn’t anything anyone could do. Not a single goddamn thing.
Kevin gulped down the lump in his throat and fought back the torrent of sobs that threatened to cripple him if he gave into the deluge of emotions. Whirling around, he began making his way toward the sounds of distress. As he stepped over the All-Star’s corpse on his way toward the exit, he tore his sword out of the man’s face and flicked off the blood.
Fuck fate, Kevin thought. Then, passing under the concrete arcs of the infield entrance, he disappeared into the black mouth of the tunnel and left the stadium.
26
Damsel in Distress
Tokyo Dome City Amusement Park
Although her throat was raw from all the screaming, Kana Fujiwara couldn’t help but scream some more. “Aieee!” she shrieked out in terror. Her lungs rattled and her throat was hoarse from her pleas for help, but no help had arrived. Just more of those goddamn flesh hungry monsters.
Kana gripped tight to the steel beam of the Ferris wheel and clambered up the long metal arm toward the red gondola at the end. She knew those things chasing her were too clumsy to follow her up to the Ferris wheel. If she could only get inside one of the pods, then she’d be safe. At least for the night. By morning they will have grown bored, or distracted, and hopefully will have wondered off. It wasn’t the best plan, but she had made a wrong turn and accidently came out into the open with nowhere to run or hide. The Ferris wheel was currently her best bet.
Out of the blue, a gust of wind slapped her so forcefully it caused her to lose her balance. Slipping, Kana’s footing went out from under her and her legs slid off the side of the beam. Barely catching herself, she wrapped her fingers around the metal edge so tightly that her knuckles turned white.
Mustering up enough courage, she looked over the edge and saw a throng of flesh-eating monsters gathered directly below her while she clung to the arm of the Ferris wheel for dear life.
Gradually, she managed to drag herself back onto the beam. Panting and gasping for breath, she paused to listen to her own heart pounding in her chest. It sounded like Japanese taiko drums beating out the ominous rhythm of impending doom.
Kana took a deep breath, gathered her nerves, and looked up. Just a few more feet and she’d be able to climb into the pod and lock the door. Then she’d pass out, and hopefully the monsters would lose interest and leave her the hell alone.
Straddling the outside of the gondola, she held tight to the bars that covered the windows. She thought it was funny that even amusement park attractions such as the Ferris wheel still needed the added security of welded bars to keep people from jumping to their deaths. As she reached over to pull up on the lever of the door handle, her feet slipped out from under her again.
As the door swung out, Kana nearly plummeted to her death. One hand clinging onto the gondola door handle, she hung on for dear life as the door swung back and forth. Looking down, she saw thirty or forty monsters swarming excitedly beneath her, waiting for her to drop down so they could feast on her still warm body.
Their hungry moans both filled her with terror and, at the same time, repulsed her. The realization that a fate worse than death was waiting for her below gave her the added incentive she needed to give it her all and pull her sorry fat-ass back up into the gondola.
Managing, somehow, to swing her body and kick her feet up into the cab, she grasped tightly to the door handle and, with a powerful heave-ho, she flung herself into the gondola’s cabin.
Sitting with her back against the inside of the carriage, she looked out of the open door, panting and wheezing, and gazed out at the blue sky. The day was surprising pleasant, she thought to herself as the small pod idly rocked back and forth.
Still trying to catch her breath, Kana hated herself for not staying in better shape. She was only thirty-five years old, but was slightly overweight and wheezed like an old lady—one who smoked far too many cigarettes. She had been meaning to quit. In fact, she told herself she would. It was her daily mantra. But, for whatever reason, she could just never bring herself to do it. And now, now more than ever, she craved a cigarette.
Blowing out a pent-up sigh, Kana finally let her guard down. Scolding herself, Kana grumbled, “Get your shit together, you stupid cow.”
Leaning forward, she hooked the handle of the door with her foot and pulled it shut. The door closed with a clank, alerting her to the fact that she was finally secure. She slid over, twisted the metal hook down into place and fastened it onto a metal peg.
Rocking gently in the gondola, Kana recollected how the news covered the crash of Flight 9
3Z and the destruction of the Tokyo Dome over the course of a terrifying forty-eight hours. At first people thought it might be a terrorist attack. Perhaps North Korea. But then strange things began to happen.
Two days after the crash, the first signs of infection began. First it was reports of survivors growing deathly ill. This lead to concerns that it might be a biological attack. But the contagion seemed contained. That is, it wasn’t spreading. Then reports of rabid, aggressive behavior including biting came in. Hospitals were having difficulty dealing with the unruly survivors who kept biting at them. That escalated until the police were called in to help deal with the survivors.
Then, reports of the dead coming back to life—or something along those lines—began making the air waves. It all seemed like one big hoax, except that it was happening for real.
For all intents and purposes, they were…undead. The living dead, or however the hell you wanted to describe it. Nobody knew what to call them. Not really.
Every night that whole first week after the crash, Kana was glued to her flat screen television in her apartment watching the news with baited breath. The reporting grew more intense, more hectic, then all hell broke loose.
The virus had spread to the general populace and there was pandemonium in the streets. That pandemonium spread rapidly, and Tokyo turned into a stomping ground. And the news kept on reporting. It was like watching embedded war correspondents talk about the fighting going on just over their shoulder, except it wasn’t a distant war in some far-off corner of the world, this chaos was happening right in her very own backyard.
Seven days after the crash it was a veritable pandemic and the evacuation alarm was given; the Self Defense Force was called in to help get everyone out of the city. That was the last news Kana remembered seeing before everything went off the air and the emergency broadcast signal took over.