The Blade's Edge - Book 3 (Surviving the Zombie Nightmare)

by Daniel White

  Just as he was relaxing, he heard a rustling behind him. Turning, he saw the same zombie that had seemed to squint earlier. The same zombie who had attacked faster than Eric thought humanly possible stood about ten feet away. He once again had a strange expression on his face that almost appeared thoughtful. Eric stared at him for a small moment before leveling the shotgun at him and pulling the trigger. The strange zombie’s head split on impact. He dropped to his knees and then fell flat on what would have been his face.

  Eric stared at the dead body and considered what had been different about him. Each of them had their own little flesh rotting qualities. One even appeared to have half of his face melting off in a strange way. The one who had paused however was a bit different.

  His flesh still looked grayish and rotting, but he seemed somehow healthier. Something seemed to have thickened his original zombie-like skin or maybe this was a new layer? It wasn’t something he would be able to figure out so he chalked it up to an anomaly. Eric then stepped over the entire group of them, walking directly on the carcass of some and shooting any that might not appear dead. Whatever had been different about that one zombie, they were all the same dead now. He continued towards the end of the corridor and readied himself to round the next corner. This time he would be a little less cocky if he came across a bunch of the undead assholes.

  The trip down to the end of the corridor was uneventful enough that Eric’s mind was able to wander slightly. It settled on the possibilities that might be here at this abandoned weapons plant. He did have a strong arsenal of weapons, but this was what these people had done for a living. How silly would he be if he didn’t at least look to see if there was something he could find?

  Around the next corner he saw a sign hanging from the ceiling that indicated the plant was at the end of an adjacent hall. More careful than before, he slowly walked up towards the hallway and was thankful to see nothing but an empty hallway. At the end of the short walkway was a door with a window that showed a factory type atmosphere on the other side. He walked to the doorway and opened it into a dark weapons factory. He already knew there were zombies here. Now he was about to walk out into a place with no more than ten feet visibility that supposedly also held weapons or weapons parts. It did not sound like a good plan, but then few did in this nightmare. Sound echoed off of walls he could not see with each step he took. It was the kind of wide open room that was impossible to be completely quiet in.

  Just then the door he walked through slammed shut. Eric nearly leaped through the ceiling and caught himself in mid punch to some unseen foe. Apparently the door was on a slow spring because there was nothing or no one behind him. As he walked he became a little more confident, figuring any zombie ambush would have come already. Though he did wonder why he hadn’t seen fit to add a simple flashlight to his arsenal. Without one he was left to stumble from one section of the weapons building warehouse to another. A few times he thought he came across something really good only to see that it wasn’t fully put together. Just when he thought the entire process would be a huge waste of time, he stumbled across a large black flashlight. When he turned it on the batteries seemed to be new and strong. Shining it around he saw that he was only touching the tip of the iceberg with what he had blindly stumbled across. It appeared that it was broken up into sections. One maybe focused on armor while others focused on firearms, hand to hand tools, and large vehicle sized weapons.

  Two things caught his eye. One was a large gun that appeared ready to mount to the top of a hummer or large military truck. It looked to be fairly new and possibly as if it were about to be mounted to a fixed base for a test firing session. Based on where it was resting, with incredible damage only a short distance away on a target wall, Eric figured the large weapon worked. The other thing that caught his eye was a broken sword that was lying nearby in the hand to hand combat area. If that was broken, then it stood to reason that there must be at least a few around here not broken. His heart began beating faster just thinking about being able to wield a sword, a weapon he had extensively trained with, and slice off zombie heads several at a time. A search of the immediate area turned up nothing, so he walked back over to the mountable gun.

  It looked even bigger up close. The long sleek look gave it the appearance of a miniature howitzer. He ran his hand over the length of it and discovered it was as smooth as if they had just bolted it together. There was a shield that the gun pointed through to protect the shooter and it was ready to mount into a truck, his truck. Even the large drill and the bolts that were needed were right there on the workshop desk. It made Eric a little bummed that he missed the new military grade truck it was meant to be mounted to. He knew his big bad truck could handle the weight though. Looking around he saw boxes and boxes of large 37mm ammunition. Whatever else he might find here; this gun was leaving here with him if it killed him.

  Everything else wasn’t anything that he could use, so he walked back towards the door that he came through. He had almost reached the door when he tripped over something solid and almost fell, catching himself before face planting. Eric spun and shined his newly gained flashlight on the object and saw a human leg. Slowly backing away, he was suddenly thankful that he had avoided that leg the first time through. His back was nearing the door when he bumped against another solid object. Eric spun quickly to see the sick visage of a rotting gray skinned zombie. Eric backed towards the leg he had tripped over as the zombie opened his mouth to reveal worms squirming from the dark rotting hole where food once was chewed. Knowing that these zombies were created by a virus, and not actually coming back from the dead, Eric wondered briefly where the worms came from. As usual there wasn’t much time for pondering.

  About the time Eric noticed that the leg he had tripped over wasn’t there, a large four fingered gray hand grabbed his ankle. Just then the tall wormed one in front of him surged forward as fast as the squinting one back in the hall. Had Eric not been able to adjust instinctively, he probably would have been killed right then. The surge meant to do serious damage to him served to help him as he twisted forward and bent at just the right time for wormy to soar right over his head.

  In the few seconds he bought himself he pulled his shotgun and fired wildly towards the direction that should be the head of the zombie holding his leg. Instantly the grip loosened slightly. Eric went to aim the shotgun at wormy but he wasn’t quite fast enough. This time the large zombie was able to plow into him and drive him into the door, raking his face with sooty nails. Eric wasn’t able to shake him off before the power of the attack blew them through the door and into the hallway. He could feel glass digging into his arms and he knew he was bleeding. As shaken as Eric was, the wormy zombie was that much more determined. He was just about to pounce onto Eric when something made him stop. He noticed that the zombie’s gaze shifted to the blood coming from his right arm. For the second time today he thought he could see a mindless zombie get confused and conceive an analytical thought. Whatever the reason, Eric wasn’t about to let the extra time go to waste.

  Quickly he wrapped his legs around his attacker’s in a body scissor and twisted hard to the left. The two of them turned and the zombie’s head struck the wall at least hard enough to shake him loose of Eric’s grasp. That was good though because it meant Eric was free as well. As if he were also able to find another supernatural gear, Eric sprang to his feet and felt a surge of speed and strength as if he were just out of the gym. He alternated kicking the wormy zombie on either side of his head and finally jumped on him and pounded his fists into the zombie’s face with more power than he thought he had. The crunch of the broken face was sickening, or at least should have been. All Eric could think was how bad he wanted to punish this freak for actually drawing blood. After following up with several punches that left the wormy face more worms than actual bone structure, Eric stood and flung the gore from his hands.

  “Tell your friends you dead piece of shit,” Eric spit blood from his mouth onto the than
dead zombie. “Don’t fuck with Eric Bayne.” Somehow the message he knew wouldn’t get to its intended target, but it made Bayne feel twice as badass as he already felt. As he walked back around the corner the cautious walk was replaced by a confident swagger.

  Inside he felt kind of strange, as if some new battle rage had taken over him. It mattered not though. He ran into a few more groups of zombies and they were no match for him. By the time he made it back up the other corridor and saw the boss’ office, he felt so good he didn’t even care what other traps might lay behind the door. He just kicked the door open and stared at the woman he was surprised to see behind the desk. “Who the fuck are you? And what do you know about the virus?”

  **

  She looked calmly at the man as he stormed into the door. The blood and ooze on him told her all she needed to know about the zombies that had been trying to get to her office for months now. Somehow this guy, without any special gadgets, had disposed of most of them. If he hadn’t, then she knew he wouldn’t be here now acting like this. It was possible for him to run away from them until the dampeners in this office freed him from their pursuit. If that was the case though, he would be flustered and out of breath. He stood there now, demanding and in control. In a word: Confidence.

  It was him.

  Samantha Sai was no stranger to control and confidence however. She remained behind the desk that wasn’t hers until about a month ago. The waist length leather jacket she wore had the sleeves pushed up and was open revealing a tight white tank top. The tank top was modestly low cut and stopped just in time to display an inch of cleavage. Relaxing back in the large chair, she easily propped her booted feet on the desk, displaying her black leather pants in the process. There was no need for this grunt to know why she was wearing such an outfit, but it sure served to display that she wasn’t about to back off and cry because Mr. Big-Bad walked in.

  “I trust you realize your lack of manners is a problem for me. Nonetheless, I will introduce myself. I am Samantha Sai. Yes, its pronounced like the heavy breath sigh. You may call me Sam as soon as you find a remedy for your manners. What I know about the virus isn’t really an issue. You have battled your way through countless zombies just to get here and you’re not only still alive, but still standing strong. You have several lacerations and scars from other attacks, and yet you remain a simple human with no sign of infection. The rest of the world is having trouble finding enough water and food to eat that isn’t contaminated and yet you look healthier than you probably ever have. So, the question is really this. Who are you and what do you know about the virus?”

  The man growled a response though clearly he was already calming down from whatever adrenaline high he was on when he stormed in. “I know nothing about the damn virus. That’s why I’m here. Now start talking!”

  Sam made a pouty face, “Aw, you’re not in the mood to talk? What if I ask a different way?” She pulled the leather jacket off of one shoulder, revealing a toned bare arm, and put one leg down while leaving the other up and spread slightly apart. “Who,” she squinted a bit, “The fuck are you? What do you know about the virus that little ‘ole me doesn’t?”

  The man took a step forward then stopped again as if he had second thoughts about leaping over the desk. He seemed to collect himself and said, “Who I am and what I know are none of your damn business, Sai. I’m here for one reason. I want to know what the suits at this place know about the zombie virus. You clearly are the only suit left. Start talking.”

  Sam tossed her jacket back onto her shoulder and stood. She turned her back to him and walked over to the window that was only feet from a display case full of Eastern swords. The former owner of the company and the office was a sword collector and had six of his favorites on display. “What you clearly do not understand is that there is still a very small but effective means of finding information. It’s not something that a commoner like you would know of, but it’s there. For example, how would I know about the very creative pieces of engineering that would prevent the filthy zombie bastards from attacking me? Despite what you might think, I do not know a great deal about the virus. All I know is that someone somewhere stole a nifty piece of weaponry and adjusted it. They then somehow were able to release on the entire known world in an as of yet unknown way or capacity. I know that you shouldn’t be able to stand there, scars and marks of fighting them without eventually getting infected.” Sam poured herself a glass of the wine that the former boss had kept here in his office then turned to him, “Yet there you stand. Wine?”

  “No.”

  “See that’s strange too. Water is scarcer every day now. Some experts, those that are left, say that it will be worth more than gold within a year. Yet you turn down a glass of wine? What keeps you running?”

  “Survival.”

  “Okay, well information keeps me going. I have information and deal in information Eric. What we have here is a bit of a problem.”

  He interrupted, “How the hell do you know my name?”

  Sam made an innocent face, “Oh is that not what you prefer? I’m sorry should it be Mr. Bayne? Perhaps you like Bayne, Eric Bayne or is it Lucas? See I know a lot more about you than you think I should. I do know lots of things Mr. Bayne. But I do not know how you do the things you do, nor how you continue to survive in the most terrible circumstances and against all odds. How do you do that Eric Lucas Bayne?” She sipped the wine, looking at him over the glass. What she hadn’t added was that many of the people she connected with would pay a healthy sum for information about what made Eric Bayne tick. His name had already made the rounds as being someone that stood out. He was different, and different was bad for whoever was in charge of this mess.

  “So what! What are you getting at?” Eric said.

  “You don’t claim it as your main mission, but you do want to know more about the virus and the people behind it don’t you?” Eric nodded tightly and Sam continued, “Information has become my means for survival Eric. I can help you find out more about the virus if you let me tag along with you for a while. Help me figure out more about the virus and I help you figure out all you want to know about everything and everyone around the virus outbreak.”

  **

  Eric thought for a long moment about what she said. She clearly was plugged in to something somewhere or she wouldn’t know about him. But how did anyone she was talking to know him? Did information travel that quickly from the man at the train depot, or was it deeper than that? More than that, did any of that even matter? She was attractive and convincing. That was a combination that would have likely been enough to convince him of most anything before everything changed with the zombie outbreak. But everything was different now. He was leaning towards telling her to go screw herself when another thought struck him.

  If she was the only one left in control here, she would know where he could get the tools needed to mount that large gun emplacement to his truck. The swords on the wall looked like gorgeous death bringers; he knew he wasn’t leaving without one. He knew how to handle a sword and with zombies getting better at closing distance, could use one now more than ever. Maybe it was worth negotiating.

  He turned towards the door and looked back over his shoulder, “No thanks.” His strides were headed towards the door waiting for her to say something to stop him. He would have stopped anyway if she had remained silent, but she spoke up.

  “Okay stop.” Eric stopped and crooned his head over his shoulder as she continued, “What will it take to convince you? Make a counter offer.”

  For a moment or two, Eric stood silently as he pretended to think. Finally he slowly turned around, “I saw a large gun emplacement out in the warehouse. I want it and the tools to mount it to my truck before I leave.”

  “Well you don’t ask a lot,” Sam started to say as he interrupted.

  “I’m not done,” Eric pointed at the sword display case, “I want one of those too.”

  He watched as she pondered over what to do. It was
n’t clear if she was being sincere or not but Eric really didn’t have the patience for games.

  “Look, no one is going to need the big ass gun. I seriously doubt there is a waiting list for people to use those swords. Even if there was, you wouldn’t be on that list judging from your stature. Whatever you need from me is greater than anything I need from you as far as information goes. I could walk out of here with no information and continue to survive. If you get no more information running through your pretty little ears, your means for survival goes away, taking your usefulness to whoever is protecting you with it.”

  Sam wore a hurt expression, but Eric knew it was a ploy. She replied, “So either I bow to your demands or you walk out and leave me here to rot? Is that it?”

  “Take it or leave it.”

  “And they say chivalry is dead,” she said sarcastically. Sam thought for a minute more and then said, “Okay fine. Pick whatever sword you want and I’ll work on getting you what you need to mount that gun. We’ll need to take these noisemakers.” She indicated the devices that made the zombie repelling sound.