Way of the Undead

by Boggess, Michael

  “Let’s take a breather,” Mark insisted. “I appreciate you for coming with me.”

  Luke could tell Mark was struggling. “Like I said, I wouldn’t want to be around when I turned, endangering everybody. Besides I gave you hell when I found out you’d been bit. I treated you like an outcast.”

  “Thanks!” Mark said, grimacing, fighting what felt like acid eating away at his muscles.

  “That’s a lot of damn zombies,” Mark said.

  At a safe distance, the stadium was in view. “A lot came here for shelter when crap went south, ending up with nowhere else to go.”

  “You don’t think Stephanie could be in there do you?” Mark asked, sadly, uncertain.

  “It’s possible. Especially if she had caught the virus. The Red Cross came here when the hospitals ran out of room, and before they knew that everyone would turn into damn zombies. I probably knew every last one of them that got caught in that mess,” Luke said. “Is there another way around?”

  Mark peeked through the bushes. “Well, she wasn’t sick, so I don’t see why she’d even leave her dorm.”

  “Unless she was volunteering,” Luke said jokingly. “Just don’t get your hopes up, its best.”

  “You’re not helping,” Mark said.

  “I’m just trying to keep you on your toes. Besides, myself and Sheriff Houser have lost everyone important to us. Forming new bonds and relationships is the only thing that will fill that void.”

  “You’re right!” Mark agreed, admiring the tall, lanky fire fighter’s words of wisdom.

  Carefully avoiding danger, a quick path was found over to College Drive. Zombies were visibly present and in large numbers, walking down the Street, standing motionless on the green lawns, and stepping down off of the many different porches in front of the dorms.

  “It’s too overrun my friend. If we don’t come up with a plan, we’ll be easily overwhelmed,” Luke said.

  “I’ll go alone if I have to.”

  “That’s okay… I’ve got your back.”

  “Just trust me,” Mark said, stepping around towards the back of the campus housing, sticking close to a large row of high picket fences. “We need to stick to this brush,” Mark said.

  Surrounded by trees, mud and sewage began to rise up at their feet. The pair began to watch their shoes fill up as large sewage puddles were coming up every few feet, becoming too much at times to avoid.

  “We need to stick to this brush,” Mark said, fighting the smell.

  Nearing the end of the long row of wooden picket fence, out of nowhere, from around the small section of land separating the housing units, a killer zombie spotted them. Forcefully, the zombie ran through the shrubbery—through a brier bush, frantically splashing in large puddles of sewage on the way to it’s target. Luke casually signaled for Mark to put his gun away. Once the slashed—mangled face of the scruffy looking former college student got within a few feet—Luke smashed the back of his shotgun over its head. A couple of really strong hits dropped it, causing it to lay motionless, face down in a puddle of raw sewage. The zombie remained in a drainage ditch. Mark and Luke peeked around the remaining corners, careful of what could be waiting.

  As the two arrived at the back of Stephanie’s house, they stood next to the large concrete fence surrounding the back of the frat-house. Finally, at the destination, Mark jumped, trying to grab the top of the grainy, brick wall, struggling to pull himself up as thick clumps of mud began falling from his shoes. Luke grabbed the back of his pants, helping push the weak and infected young man to the top of the wall.

  “What’s it look like over there?” Luke asked, sinking a little in the mud covering the ground.

  “Come on up!” Mark said, extending his hand down to the tall, lanky fireman.

  Mark hopped down from the fence, landing in the garden. He then stepped through the remains of the once beautiful flowers that would grow and be at their peak every summer month. With Luke atop of the wall watching his back, Mark cautiously stepped through the seemingly peaceful yard over next to the back door. He quickly began checking the gate, finding that it was already latched tightly. From within the backyard, the sound of zombies could be heard beyond the gate entrance, groaning and growling, while scratching and clawing. Luke continued to wait for confirmation. At the dorm’s backdoor, having slowly walked up the steps before knocking loudly, all that could be done was wait for a response.

  Luke sat atop of the wall, watching Mark’s every move, following closely with the aim of his shotgun. The latch began to open, with the door starting to unlock. Mark drew his pistols, preparing for unforeseen danger. Uncertain as to what might be beyond; a few steps back were taken as the door began to slowly open.

  At the door, only visible through the screen door, a buff, football playing jock, wearing a letterman’s jacket stood firm while holding a ball bat.

  “Who are you?” Asked the jock.

  “I’m Mark. Stephanie’s boyfriend. Is she still here? Is she okay?”

  The jock nodded. “I’m Jake by the way.”

  “Are you a cop?” Jake asked.

  Mark acknowledged before saying, “I’ve been sworn in. I’m a Sheriff’s Deputy. Hey, wait a minute… aren’t you my school’s quarterback?” Mark asked, extending his arm for a handshake.

  Stephanie was in tears, waiting. Once inside, she rushed over to Mark with her arms wide-open. The two hugged for a moment, embracing tighter, with Stephanie resting her head on Mark’s shoulder.

  Stephanie leaned in for a passionate kiss. “What’s wrong?” she asked, with so many emotions running through her mind, most of all suffering the shock of a rejected kiss.

  “I don’t know how to tell you... I’m sick. I got bit by one of those things. I just wanted to see you one last time and know that you were all right. I just wanted to make sure that you were okay before I died,” Mark said.

  Stephanie couldn’t speak; her throat began to seize up as many tears began to fall. Putting her face on Mark’s shoulder, she wept uncontrollably.

  “How did it happen?” Stephanie asked, briefly regaining her composure.

  “We didn’t know Ted was infected. He was unconscious the whole time from a gunshot wound. I tried nursing him back to health, then in the middle of the night, I remember waking up and it was pitch-black… that’s when I got bit.”

  “Ted’s dead. That’s awful. I can’t believe all of this is happening,” Stephanie said, clutching Mark by his waist.

  “It is. But it’s all going to be alright. I want to get you all somewhere safe. I want you to help watch over Tyler.”

  Stephanie held Mark tight for another moment. “How’s your Dad?”

  “I don’t know where he’s at. I haven’t talked to him in well over a week. Tyler’s fine. He’s with the new Sheriff,” Mark said, as he looked over Stephanie’s beauty, taking it in probably for the last time. “I got deputized! What do you think?” Mark asked, showing off his new badge.

  “That’s really cool. The Sheriff deputized you because of what’s going on with the outbreak. That’s so awesome.”

  “So, much has happened over the past few days,” Mark said, sadly, embracing the joy of being in Stephanie’s loving arms.

  Mark and Stephanie stepped back into the kitchen after their much needed talk. “This is my new friend Luke,” Mark said.

  “Nice to meet you Mr. Luke.”

  “Nice to meet you too, Mark never mentioned that you were so beautiful.”

  Stephanie smiled, even through such immense sadness. “Thanks!”

  “Have you got to meet all of my friends?” Stephanie asked, taking Mark’s hand and dragging him into the next room.

  The living room was dark, with the windows all boarded up. For protection, the furniture was rested against the door.

  “This is Mark. He’s a Sheriff’s deputy,” Jake said, bringing his friends over to greet their guest.

  “Nice to meet yawl,” Mark said, looking at the group of five, th
ree women and two men.

  “This is everybody. Well, all that survived. Everyone else went to be with their families or got caught up over at the stadium,” Stephanie said, hovering over the small fire burning in the fireplace.

  “You all need to come back with us. We have lots of food and clean water. Safety and security. Entertainment. No one’s safe here,” Mark warned.

  Once the sun started to go down, the group waited for the right time to leave.

  “There’s just too many of them,” Stephanie said, peeking out the window.

  “We’re just going to have to fight our way through,” Mark proclaimed, cocking each of his pistols.

  The group waited for another moment, trying to gain their composure; some even began to pray for a safe trip, but knew once faced with these creatures the fight was going to be on. As Mark stepped near the back gate, amongst the gunfire already sounding somewhere on campus, a loud rumbling in the sky could be felt. All of the tree limbs around them began to sway and shake. Wind began blowing through Mark and Stephanie’s hair as a convoy of about four helicopters flew swiftly over their heads. The winds began to subside—leveling off. The sounds of helicopters could still be heard remotely nearby—then after a brief moment of peace—extremely loud explosions began to rock the whole surrounding area. Stephanie’s dorm walls visibly began to shake as the shockwave from the nearby explosions were so heavily intense that the front room windows immediately busted out of all of the houses along College Drive.

  From the backyard, Jake quickly ran into the house to see what had been blown up out front: peeking out a small window he saw his once flourishing and dominate school’s football stadium engulfed in archaic flames—collapsing down around itself. After having stalled for nearly ten minutes, Mark stood atop of the chair, lifting himself up a little, checking for the presence of zombies beyond the wall. With the loud explosion and gunfire in the area having rocked the campus, the zombies had already begun wandering off towards the noise. “That’s the distraction we were waiting for.”

  “Is everyone here? Now’s our chance!” Mark said, confident.

  Mark carefully led the group of survivors back the way he had first traveled. Using the cover of darkness, as the group made their way closer to the football stadium, Jake peeked from within a thick patch of the woods in disbelief, watching in amazement as his stadium burned to the ground.

  Nearing town square, the power was still out. Making their way cautiously back onto the sidewalk at the intersection nearest to the car museum, upon entering into town, the group stayed close to the shadows: being led only by the moonlight and a few small areas in town where localized fires were still burning due to the many explosions in that area.

  Mark began to feel weak, collapsing to one knee.

  “What’s wrong with him?” Jake asked, in a hurry.

  “He’s sick. He’s been bit,” Stephanie said, remorsefully.

  Jake and his friend helped Mark to his feet—and assisted him briefly as they took back off down the street—almost carrying him. Once to the outer entrance of the car museum, the sounds of gunfire could be heard coming from down the street. As the group cautiously peeked around the building, looking down the sidewalk—they could just barely make out the slow moving figures of what appeared to be zombies approaching.

  At the car museum, from inside one of the display cars sitting out front with a convertible top, a weak but distinguishable cry for help could be heard emanating from within the cab. “Help us! Ugh!”

  Stephanie quickly walked past an old 1925 roadster, then over to the plea for help—checking cautiously within the convertible. Slumped over and bleeding profusely from the neck, a National Guardsmen laid wounded next to a couple of already dead soldiers.

  “Help me!” the soldier said for the last time, before dying of asphyxiation from choking on his own blood.

  Luke, standing upon his one good leg quickly yelled, “Get back!” Drawing his shotgun upon the recently diseased soldier—calmly waiting for its eyes to reopen. Luke waited, then went ahead and shot after the soldier started violently convulsing after his already painful death a few seconds prior. The gunshot regrettably drew zombies. Jake and his friend, acting on the spurt of the moment—quickly took each of the soldiers’ weapon and travel pack along with anything they felt was of importance.

  Directly behind the group and from out of the car museum’s entrance—zombies began to flood out as the front door violently burst open.

  Partly due to his hurt leg, Luke was caught completely off guard and couldn’t get his feet moving fast enough to step away, and so he sacrificed himself into the crowd of zombies and yelled, “Run! Get out of here!”

  Continuing to periodically blackout, Mark was near unconscious. He was barely able to make out what was going on around him. He was no doubt unsure of the sacrifice Luke had made so that he and the group could get away.

  Chapter 20 way of the undead

  Amongst a dark and cloudy night, the rain went from a light drizzle to a complete downpour in only a matter of minutes. Jake carried Mark out of the rain and sat him under the small canopy at the back entrance of Luigi’s. Working quickly, Jake’s friend, Ben, began handing down all of the suitcases, bags, weapons, and supplies from over the high containment wall. Huddling under the small canopy—Stephanie began to bang on the backdoor for help. Sheriff Houser and the group of survivors were in the dining area, doing all that needed to be done to make the place safer, boarding up windows, and barricading the front entrance. The knocks would however go unheard as Mark fell further and further into a deep sleep, resting uncomfortably against the back of Luigi’s, while lying on the cold, hard, wet concrete. Jake punched the heavy steel door in frustration.

  Fighting the cold and uncomfortable conditions, Stephanie took a piece of cloth, soaking it with rainwater before placing it on Mark’s deathly warm forehead. Once at the door, Antonio was skeptical about opening it. He waited, listening, deriving any indication of intelligence coming from the knocking, yet remaining weary of what might be that of a mindless zombie. Given the unmistakable sound of talking beyond the door—Antonio removed the latch—opening it slowly as Mark began to sprawl out the length of floor in front of him.

  “What happened?” Antonio asked, gesturing for his grandson to go into the next room for some dry towels.

  “He’s been bit… he just kept getting weaker till he passed out,” Stephanie explained as she crouched down next to him, supporting his neck and head in her arms.

  Sheriff Houser stood at the entrance to the kitchen near the dining area, looking around at the group of college kids, immediately realizing that Luke must not have made it.

  “What happened to Luke?” the Sheriff asked, sliding an old Army cot across the kitchen floor.

  Jake picked up a stack of towels and began handing them out. “He’s a hero. He took on a whole group of zombies, hurling himself into them so that we could get away,” Jake said.

  “Well, come on in… make sure that door’s closed,” the Sheriff warned.

  “I’ll get his feet,” Jake said, taking Mark by each ankle.

  “Did you all see the soldiers while you were out?” Sheriff Houser asked, prior to downing his second shot of whiskey.

  Jake caught his breath. “Yeah, we saw a couple, but they were dead or dying. We got their supplies and weapons though.”

  Antonio intervened. “I wouldn’t doubt it. Those soldiers stayed out front of the restaurant here for nearly an hour fighting zombies.”

  Sheriff Houser dusted off the pretzels from the collar of his uniformed shirt. “Steven, bring their gear over.”

  Steven began to strain. “They’re heavy.”

  Having placed the military gear on the table, Steven stepped back over to his cushioned stool to rest.

  The Sheriff unfastened one of the soldier’s bags and began to look. “Let’s just see what we got.”

  The Sheriff began placing each item on the table: one canteen, a co
uple MREs, a first aid kit, medications, a fire starter kit, a space bag, sunglasses, extra socks, and a flashlight. “We got some more ammo, but what’s this?” the Sheriff asked as he held up a large self-shot needle bearing the words Anti-virus.

  Steven stepped forward, given his medical training. “It looks like we have ourselves some kind of Anti-virus. I heard them talking about it on the news. I can’t believe it’s already been approved, with regulations on drug testing sanctions and all.”

  Steven flipped off the cap, exposing the needle. “Sanctions state that any new drugs must undergo extensive testing before being released to the public.”

  The Sheriff thought about it for a moment. “Well theirs your answer bud, the Anti-virus wasn’t given to the public: it was given to the soldier’s, whereas we civilians can just rot away as festering walking corpses,” the Sheriff said angrily, and quite possibly a little drunk.

  Stephanie stood tall and shouted. “If it is the cure, we need to use it on Mark. He’s dying!”

  Steven read the instructions carefully. From what could be told, he was almost positive it was the Anti-virus to the zombie plague. “Let’s do it,” Steven insisted. “Quickly, tie something around his arm.”

  Given only the dim flicker of candlelight, Steven lined up the needle with his friend’s vein. He quickly injected the unknown substance, every last bit of Anti-virus into Mark’s arm.

  Steven stepped away, discarding the used needle in the trash. “Now we should all pray. That’s all we can do.”

  To everyone’s disbelief, all of the pain that Mark had endured was almost gone, dissipating away as the Anti-virus somehow cured his body of the infection. His wounds were beginning to heal at an exponential rate. Somehow, the virus once again mutated, integrating itself into Mark’s DNA. As his eye’s opened to the darkened room, a candle flickering immediately caught his attention. It’s every move, he watched, realizing that he had almost died.