by Daniel White
Eric grabbed her arm, “No! I have a dog with me and they make him even more of a pain than he usually is.”
She looked on in disbelief, “You would rather protect the dog’s hearing than save both of us from the zombies around this place? You’re crazier than you look Bayne!” She moved towards them again and he snatched her arm. She spun with the grasp and slapped his cheek. Eric barely moved while she said, “Don’t grab my arm you freak!”
He didn’t react other than to blankly say, “They’re staying or I’m leaving.”
Sam finally resigned and sighed with her hands up, “Fine, have it your way. But you had better be prepared to protect me out there. I know just enough about defending myself to be dangerous.”
“Lady, you provide those weapons for me and I won’t let them touch you.” Eric said it because he meant it. His number one goal was survival as always. If that end was met by helping others, then so be it. If that helping others included getting paid in awesome zombie killer weapons, he’d protect an entire family.
She motioned for him to have his choice of the swords as she began going through files – supposedly to find out what he needed to mount the gun and where to get it. Within a few minutes he had a sword and a matching sheathe that strapped to his back, forming an X with the shotgun and Sam knew where to go.
Sam turned to him slightly worriedly, “The only problem is that there are going to be zombies all over us out there. You do know that don’t you?”
Eric smiled and twirled the sword slowly in his grip, “That’s no problem at all.”
**
Sam watched in boredom as Eric finalized putting the ridiculously large gun on his old truck. She supposed if you were into cool old trucks then it was about as good as it got. Sam wasn’t, but she had to admit that there was something sexy about the freakishly good zombie killer Eric Bayne putting that large thing on his truck. The show he put on getting them safely to this point wasn’t too bad either. There was no pad and pen, but Sam was definitely taking mental notes. The people that contacted her with requests for information on Eric Bayne had told her in no uncertain terms that he was something special. Though she didn’t, they knew who had constructed the release of the zombie virus and they knew how. Even they didn’t know why the virus was released yet, but they did know the effects of it on the population.
Something was different about him. The effects the virus had on others was not visible on him at all. Sam remained propped on the side of the truck, trying not to care that he was paying no attention to her. She watched and saw the same special things she had seen on the way out here to the truck; nothing. He wasn’t extraordinarily muscular or lean, just fit looking. There were no strange superpowers that were clear to see, he was for all appearances, just a guy. And yet he was so unique. Clearly he had wielded a sword before he fought his way back to the truck. He had decapitated so many zombies that even Sam’s shirt had the dark soot-like blood displayed as a proud memento of having survived.
Come to think of it, she really wasn’t that bored after all. When he was finally done she didn’t let on that she was halfway enjoying the entertainment. After all, her job was to report on what was different about him and any reasons she might be able to figure why. The part about using him to further other information searches of hers was totally her idea. She doubted her employer would approve but hoped he wouldn’t find out.
“Let’s get this bad ass truck on the road!” Eric said in the polar opposite tone of the one used when he busted in her office door. It was almost like he was two totally different people but not quite. He kept enough of his mannerisms, gestures and reactions the same that having a personality disorder of any sort was out of the question. He seemed to just be extremely good in a fight. But what were the chances that someone like him would also just happen to attract more zombie attention than anyone else? Nah, something must be going on with him. She would just have to let him help her for a while until she figured it out.
Without another word they both hopped into the truck. The dog, a dark rather large one, leaped into the back as if he were going to run the guns himself. Eric nodded at her, “You probably should buckle up if you want to keep that wine down Sam. I have a feeling business is going to pick up really soon.”
Sam just rolled her eyes and buckled up. “Great Eric. That’s just great.”
They were barely out of the complex and into the large employee parking lot when a massive horde of the creatures blocked their path. She had information galore on these things but damn they were some kind of special ugly up close. As she had heard, the longer they were exposed the more they would decay, at least up to a point. Some of the ones she could see looked like young adults in Halloween costumes while others looked like they had just crawled out of the ground. Each one was different but they were all a special grade of gross. The truck stopped and she looked over to find him smiling from ear to ear. Something of note should be coming to mind about his ability to face down dozens of the things with a sick smile but only one thing came to mind as he became giddy about his new gun. Sarcastically she just rolled her eyes and looked out the window as if she weren’t terrified and said, “Men.”
**
By the time she said whatever comment she had ready, Eric was already out the door and hopping up beside Bart. The gun was loaded and ready, but as of yet untested on his truck. This group of zombies was slowly marching forward at the moment about thirty feet away. They formed a type of semicircle as they mindlessly attacked. Eric took aim and held the trigger back.
Instantly his arms began to shake as the gun pumped 37mm rounds into the crowd of grayish zombies. Some of them had their heads blown into bits while others were blown away two or three at a time. Within a few minutes there was a mush of slimy blood pooling on the ground. Some of the others coming from behind slipped and fell on the life blood of their brethren, while others rushed forward with their signature burst of speed. The large gun took care of most of them with relative ease. One got through his barrage of hell fire, only to meet a charging Bart who viciously pounced on the attacker, tearing its windpipe through his neck. Finally only a few were left and Eric hopped out of the bed onto the ground. He ran one through with his newly acquired katana, and then pulled it out to swing through the neck of two more in a row, cleanly removing their heads. The only one left after that received a gunshot to the forehead, just to mix things up.
Eric spun his handgun as if he were an old Wild West gunslinger and turned around to see Sam sitting in the cab looking either uninterested or sick. Either way the fact that she wasn’t screaming and yelping at the sight of the carnage made her all the more hot. Too bad he had too many other things on his mind besides filthy hot sex. She would make a hell of a candidate for a few nights. He shrugged internally and walked to the truck feeling on top of the world. Bart jumped into the bed and curled up next to the cannon. He turned to Sam, “See I told you they were no trouble at all. Where do your information sources tell you we should go? I’m feeling even more capable than I did before I came here, thanks to my new sword and truck pistol back there. Where to?”
Sam grinned and said, “West. I’ll let you know more as we go. I wouldn’t want you thinking you had no further need of me after all.”
Eric didn’t crack a smile this time and said, “Smart woman. West it is.”
**
Chapter 3
The sky was no longer a dull version of its former self. In its place was a blood red sea of clouds. The sun itself was nowhere to be seen. The trees were bare and each and every blade of grass was either dead or completely burned to ash. Before him was a long narrow road lined with dead trees. He was walked naked down the middle of the road, staring at the vanishing point where the sides of the road converged on the horizon. Suddenly he saw people appear on the road beside him, but they were all moving the opposite direction. Most of them he couldn’t recognize but of special note was his family. He tried to turn to speak but they seemed to fl
oat by with the rest of the people. Some of them stared at him as they passed while others just looked mindlessly to their vacant destination. It was unclear where they were going, but he had no idea where he was going either. Wherever it was, he was walking there with a purpose. It wasn’t until he noticed the people walking in the other direction were all zombies. He felt of his face to find that it was still as normal as it had always been.
Suddenly the road filled with a thick red substance. The deep red fluid rolled down the street in the same direction as the rest of the people. It was to his knees before he leaned down and felt of it. He was shocked to notice that it felt and looked like blood. The river was swallowing the people going in the other direction. He felt himself wanting to help, but his feet only kept moving forward.
Then there was a man walking towards him. At first he thought the man, clad in a black three-piece suit, was fairly close. But he realized soon that he was still a good distance away, he was huge. When approached closer it became very clear that this would not be one who walked or floated by like the others. The face was so dark and deformed that its features were hidden completely. Yet somehow he knew the man was staring directly at him. The closer the man approached, the worse the feeling in his stomach became. What was this guy? What kind of a zombie was he? Was he even a zombie? Was he a demon? What did I say?
When he was just yards away swords seemed to materialize out of thin air. There was one for each mammoth hand and each sword was at least a time and a half longer than the one he suddenly found himself holding. Yet for some reason, he kept moving towards the twisted visage. He had to keep going towards this dark man who oozed evil from his very core, even though he knew he was no match for such a being.
It happened seemingly in the blink of an eye. With one move of both hands Eric felt the searing hot swords cut into his stomach and chest. He slowly fell into the river of blood as the swords were pulled from him. His eyes filled with his own blood even before he sunk completely into the river. Just like that, it was over.
Just as quickly a cool feeling washed over him. Gone was the pain from his wound, replaced by a feeling of incredible strength. Eric figured this must be something of a version of heaven, but then he opened his eyes to see the same blood red sky, floating in the blood river. Then he realized someone was helping him up. It was almost as if they were helping him, making him feel twice as strong. The large dark man did something Eric couldn’t believe. He took a step back. Fully on his feet again Eric spun to see what or who was lifting him up.
The old and serene face of an old man was there. It may have even been someone he had seen before, but he couldn’t be sure. Eric looked at him and asked, “How did you do this? And why? Why lift me up?”
The old man’s eyes grew sad as he answered, “There is no one else. It has to be you.”
Just then a sword took the old man’s head off as he turned to see the other sword coming for him.
**
Eric awoke with a start. His eyes were opened for a full thirty seconds before he realized he was panting and out of breath. He looked around the abandoned cheap hotel room they had found to see Bart lying on the floor and Sam Sai lying in the other bed. There were no sheets, but she still looked fairly comfortable. Out loud, in a tone he figured would wake no one, he said, “What the fuck kind of dream was that? Son-of-a-bitch.”
He slowly stood and began to walk towards the bathroom, knowing it might take a while before he could get back to sleep. Just before he flipped the light on, he stopped and looked towards the window. He thought he’d heard the slightest noise. “Trust your instincts,” he thought. After listening for another minute, he shrugged and went for the light but didn’t flip it on before they came.
The door was slammed open so hard it was knocked off its hinges and the window was blasted into shards. Both Sam and he, as it turned out, liked to sleep in as dark of a room as possible so he couldn’t see exactly what was going on. He had a really good guess though, and he hoped he was wrong.
Eric crouched into the lowest fighting stance he could manage and waited for impact. Since he was standing in his boxers, there wouldn’t be any shooting the intruders he assumed to be zombies. This fight he would have to win the old fashioned way. That was the last thought before he felt them. A slimy hand clawed at his arm and he reacted quickly, grabbing the arm and leading his elbow to that zombie’s face.
He still couldn’t see anything but the gushy cold face told him that they were in fact zombies. That one fell away and he felt another nearby his other arm. Wildly he punched and found some type of target but not a good enough one. A large cold hand slammed across his cheek and he was knocked off balance. The next attacker plowed into him and drove him up onto the counter. That was both good and bad. It was bad because his lower back was on fire, but good because he was able to flick the light on.
The instant it came on he honestly considered turning it off again. He saw a few attacking both Bart and Sam. Bart was on the attack and actually looked to be trying to work towards Sam. She was the surprise however. Dressed in the same thing she had worn in the truck, she was throwing punches and kicks that told him more than he had known about her. She wasn’t only a damsel in distress. When pressed, she could hold her own in a fight. It was good that she could because Eric couldn’t have helped her if he wanted to.
He was able to finally lift his feet and shove the zombie that had driven him onto the counter backwards. That zombie, quite an ugly one with no hair and a skull that appeared to be melting somehow, fell back into two others. That gave him a chance to get his footing and then the real fight began. A straight kick took one backwards while a side thrust kick drove one into the tub and out of the fight. He then planted that foot and kicked forward with the other, driving one of them into the wall. Taking a slight breather, Eric was able to go on the offensive. He grabbed one by the head and smashed his face into the mirror. A stiff elbow took care of another before he heel stomped on the face of another that had fallen. Before long he was facing only a few and took care of them fairly easily.
It wasn’t until then that he realized Bart was gone. For a moment, he feared his pal had finally run out of luck. His face must have shown some concern because Sam spoke up from her position in the center of the bed, “Relax! It’s just this.” She held one of her little black box devices that drove the zombies and Bart away with a shrill high pitched noise above the human hearing level.
Eric went to the window to find Bart out in the parking lot hiding under the truck. The rest of the zombies were running from the sound and then continuing to run away. He turned to Sam and saw that she had a few minor wounds. Her leather jacket was in decent shape with only one rip across the back. The shirt she had on was ripped across the stomach but somehow she avoided getting actually scratched more than once or twice. Instead of mentioning her ability to fight, he mentioned her use of the black device, “Cheater.”
She snickered just a little then said, “Yeah, well sorry if your dog got trampled or torn apart out there but as soon as I got my hands on this little puppy, I was going to use it. Dogs be damned.”
Eric didn’t really care but he figured Bart might, “I think he might be a little hurt. He was trying to help you.”
“You think so?”
“Yeah,” he turned to walk towards the bathroom again, “He does that. He tries to help nearby humans who are in trouble. Call it a Lassie complex or something. It’s his only flaw besides really needing a bath.”
“What are you doing? Nursing your wounds?” Sam pointed towards the bathroom as she smirked.
Eric wasn’t sure what she was getting at. He did have several small cuts, but they would heal very fast. Maybe that was what she was trying to ask about. Or maybe she just wanted to stare at him after winning a fight with several zombies in only his boxers. In reply he only said, “Nah, a bad dream woke me up. Scared the shit out of me,” he walked into the bathroom and shut the door. Before he walked out a few thing
s began to bother him about what had just happened. This was now the second time that he knew for sure he had been ambushed by “brainless” zombies. Something was going on with them if they were able to suddenly plan simple ambushes. Maybe the virus was mutating somehow, or maybe there was someone specifically out to get him.
He stared at himself in the shattered mirror. He thought of Sam at the same moment and a few odd things struck him. She could fight, that much was clear. Why then had she allowed him to easily get the upper hand in a simple bullying tactic? Why so vague on where they were going? It seemed to make sense at first, but now nothing made as much sense as it had. She had been the one that knew about an abandoned hotel out here in the middle of nowhere. Then magically they get attacked in the middle of the night; it didn’t add up and he suddenly felt less sure about her.
When came back out into the room, he walked slowly. Sam was sitting on the bed as if terribly troubled by the entire situation. Eric didn’t want to believe her, but he found himself wanting to. He fought that urge and decided to watch her as close as she seemed to be watching him from time to time. Walking over to the bed, he sat down next to her. Intentionally, he was a little too close and was still in his boxers as well.