Aftermath (Book 2): Chicago Calling

by Duncan McArdle

  The majority of residents had pushed back to the far end, and most seemed to have started making their way onto the roof in spite of the weather. But at least fifteen or so remained at the south end of the building, most of them trying in vain to fight off the stronger and better equipped undead, and some of them, from what Lester could tell, sporting injuries of an unknown nature.

  Lester set to work immediately, sinking his axe into the nearest foe just as it was about to lunge for a woman that was already on the ground. Next he wrapped his arm around another body and flung it backwards to the floor, focusing for now on just separating the attackers from the residents. At this point, some of the women broke away from the chaos, knowing now that help had arrived that they could retreat a little further, but none moved more than a few metres away.

  Before long, Lester – with the help of some of the stronger residents – had permanently subdued the four biters that had reached the residential floor, and now set his sights on the stairwell. He ran forwards, catching one just as it attempted to make its way up to the roof, and managed to grab its ankle, pulling it back down. Quickly he put the monster out of its misery, and then began making his way back downstairs.

  On the ground floor, the numbers were beginning to thin, but Harvey was still very much overwhelmed, and painfully under-armed. The worst part about the situation was that with the help of what little ammunition remained in his M16, he knew he could even the field fairly quickly. But he also knew that doing so would draw more of the horde to return, potentially meaning that the end of the situation was pushed even further back. Knowing this, he’d already made the mental decision to stay silent no matter what, even if it meant he himself was at risk.

  Eventually the numbers were so low the battle was starting to look more winnable, but as Harvey fought, he could feel fatigue kicking in. Eventually, in the midst of performing a particularly spectacular double takedown – in which he managed to take out two foes before either had hit the ground, all using the same blade – he found himself beginning to weave slightly, and noticed the various light sources from outside starting to fade and blur.

  Immediately he shook himself, and proceeded to re-grip his knife blade down, before sinking it into the top of another figure’s head, itself advancing with significant pace. So fast was this being’s pace however, that once devoid of life, its momentum carried it forwards, colliding with Harvey and sending him tumbling to the ground. Harvey’s head hit the concrete, and as a combination of pain, tiredness and head trauma all began to form one fuzzy cocktail, he caught a final glimpse of an approaching attacker just moments before his eyes slid shut, and he drifted off into an unconscious, unknowing state.

  Back in the stairwell, Lester was making his way down fast, slaughtering biter after biter, until he eventually reached the ground floor once more. Looking down at the near-ruined barricade – and the figures still crawling through – he began to realise just how determined the dead truly were. Their skin was catching and tearing off on splintered wood, and shards of broken glass and rusty nails were embedding themselves in the hands and even eyes of the advancers, but they were not only undeterred, they were barely even noticing.

  Lester firmly stomped – both figuratively and literally – the last ounce of life out of the crawling biters making their way through the barricade, and then clambered over the truck, ready to assist in the final clearance. The numbers down below were now sub-ten, and from what it appeared they were well spread out. However as Lester looked around, the one thing he noticed more than anything else, was that although at least three of the figures were heading in one particular direction, there was no sign of Harvey, anywhere.

  Such thoughts were cut short though by yet another advancing group, forcing Lester to switch back to the current moment, and proceed to take care of some of the final few members of the undead force. Lester swung once from right to left, moved forwards, swung again left to right, moved forwards, swung again, moved, swung, moved, swung. There was almost an element of grace in the man’s refined tactics, and an onlooker would no doubt have been incredibly impressed with how majestically he used his giant mass in each and every movement. But right now, there were no onlookers to make such an observation, not even as he finished off the charade by carving the life out of two biters in a single movement.

  Eventually, Lester caught sight of Harvey, in the form of a partially obscured figure lying limp on the ground around fifteen metres from his position. The main reason he noticed this though, was due to the only remaining enemies – three of them it appeared – now concentrating their efforts towards one spot, despite all the commotion occurring to their rear. Struggling to understand the situation but knowing he had to act regardless, Lester moved forwards, quickly taking care of the nearest of the three biters to him.

  Suddenly though he realised how big the gap was between them, and as he watched the first of the last two undead near the end of their journey, he knew he wasn’t going to make it in time. Lester dropped the axe to the floor, and took out his M16, remembering that he had just three bullets left, and knowing how important it was that he made each one count.

  Lester knew just as Harvey did that at this point, a single bullet could mean the difference between soon reaching the end of this situation, and this only being the start. But unlike Harvey, Lester found it much more difficult to compartmentalise this, and instead only saw the possible outcome of them losing an important member of the community. Carefully he took aim with his rifle – the iron sights resting dead centre on the back of the being closest to Harvey’s head – placed his finger on the trigger, and began to pull.

  Before he could finish however, the roar of an all-American monster emerged from the light outside, flying into the car-park and taking off from the entrance ramp with such speed it barely hit the ground before it arrived at the two remaining undead. In an expert display of driving precision, the truck ploughed forwards, colliding with the rear of both figures just a split second before they were due to get their first bites, and sent their bodies skidding across the floor into the distance. Streaks of blood spread quickly across the area and indeed the Ford’s hood, and the truck screeched to a halt.

  Sonja and John jumped out and ran towards the two injured foes, whilst Andrew too disembarked, himself rounding the front of the truck instead and disappearing into the mass of bodies in search of his fallen comrade. John and Sonja quickly finished off each of their targets with one final stab to the head, and then turned to Andrew, awaiting news of whether or not he had been bitten, or worse; run over.

  After a long delay, Andrew held a thumb up, and then began dragging the limp but apparently living body out from the pile of undead underneath the front bumper of the F150. John and Sonja each breathed a sigh of relief, right up until the moment they looked over to where they had so recently seen Lester, expecting to see him now jumping for joy.

  Instead, they saw the bodies spread throughout the barricade and into the stairwell, and they saw Lester disappearing up the steps, his panic stricken run telling them everything they needed to know.

  “No”, John said, in complete disbelief, “No… no… NO!”.

  Chapter 19: Recovery

  Immediately both John and Andrew went running after Lester, each of them clambering over the truck and the various obstacles behind it as quickly as they could. Footsteps pounded hard against the floor and echoed all around them courtesy of the empty concrete walls present in every direction. Sweat dripped of both men’s faces, which were otherwise occupied only with panic and fear, as they rounded the final corner and emerged onto the building’s penultimate floor, to the sight of blood and injury, and the sound of agonising pain.

  “My God”, Andrew said under his breath, in complete disbelief.

  “Michelle?”, John called out, surveying the wounded and worse, hoping none would reply.

  “She’s fine, saw her running upstairs”, Lester said, himself hunched over a nearby body making sure it was
truly deceased.

  “And Sarah, Hannah?”, Andrew asked, an air of desperation present in his voice.

  “All upstairs”, Lester replied, “All fine last I saw”.

  A wave of relief washed over both men, for what felt like the hundredth time. John was tiring of always having to leave his wife’s fate in the hands of the others, but he couldn’t begin to imagine what it felt like to be Andrew. Not only was he leaving the life of his daughter too, but he was doing it in order to go out on runs for somebody else’s benefit, not his own. In that moment John had to admire the compassion and loyalty of his friend, having stuck with him all this time.

  “Go on up”, he instructed Andrew, “Check on them”.

  Without a word, Andrew headed for the staircase he had so recently emerged from, and disappeared up the remaining steps.

  “How many we got here?”, John asked Lester, who was again sinking his blade into the head of another biter, making sure there were no chances of revival.

  “I count twelve dead, three-“, Lester stopped himself short, looking over at the nearby injured. He then stood up and moved closer to John before continuing. “Three bitten but still alive, over there by the wall”, he said, nodding to what was now his rear.

  “Jesus Christ”, John proclaimed, “Twelve? And fifteen total? What happened?”, he asked.

  “We were outnumbered, badly”, Lester replied. “We were fightin’ ‘em off but, some slipped up through the barricade and…well”, he stopped explaining and simply looked around, the death surrounding both men all the information John needed.

  “Alright”, John said, placing his hand on the shoulder of the giant in front, “I’m sorry we weren’t here sooner”.

  “Me too”, Lester replied, “But truth be told, if you hadn’t gotten back when you did, we’d all be dead right now”.

  John nodded at the man, before turning his attention to the injured, and making his way over.

  Of the three women propped up along the wall, John had spoken to all of them at some point in the past. The first woman was already in tears, crying out and blubbering her way through a series of words that were near impossible to understand. Upon arriving at her side, John placed his hand on her shoulder – just above where a large chunk of skin was missing from her recent tangle with the undead – and managed to catch the odd word.

  “Just…end it”, mumbled the woman in front, before she wiped the tears and snot away from her face, and looked John dead in the eyes. “I’ve got nothing left… just do it”.

  John needed no further encouragement to end the life of a suffering woman who would otherwise spread the deadly infection. With simple words of apology prefacing the action, he withdrew his blade and placed it next to the woman’s head, and as she slowly closed her eyes, he swiftly jammed the blade sideways, until the life quickly drained out from her open mouth.

  “I’m so sorry this happened to you”, John said under his breath, before stepping up and making the short journey to the next person, who was stood up and facing out of the open air car-park.

  For a moment, John thought – and hoped – that there’d been a mistake, as he repeatedly looked the woman in front up and down, but found no sign of injury. Her name was Kate, and she was one of the younger members of the community at just twenty-five years old, having narrowly missed the cut for the last boat, so John was told. Kate had been beautiful, one of the shining lights of the camp that had always brought a smile to John and every other person there’s face. But as she turned to face him, he saw just exactly why she was over here, as a stream of blood and tears leaked out from her left eye, where some horrible creature had bitten right into her face.

  Upon making eye contact, Kate struggled and ultimately failed to fake a smile, and then began climbing onto the ledge in front.

  “Kate no!”, John said, moving closer to her, “That’s no way to go, we can do it quicker than that, less painfully”.

  “Stop it John”, she said as a river of red tears flowed down her face, “There’s nothing you can do to fix this”, she said.

  John reached out to grab her arm, but it was too late. Kate threw herself forwards and off of the building, her body beginning on the last journey it would ever take, travelling several stories towards the hard floor below. No screams were heard, no yells of regret or signs of a mistake. Instead Kate simply fell, perhaps relieved at finally ending the nightmare, an end that came in the form a thud, as her body finally completed its descent. John looked away and closed his eyes as it happened, wincing and shivering slightly at the sound of the body hitting the floor, and then opened his gaze onto the third woman.

  “No!”, came the woman’s voice immediately after John’s eyes met hers. “You stay away from me!”.

  “Kim”, John said in the most calming voice he could muster, “This is on your terms”.

  “My terms!?”, the woman laughed, clutching the side she’d been bitten on with one hand, and using the other to waft her long ginger hair out of her eyes. “Knife to the head or jump to my death, those are some great terms right there!”, she barked.

  “I know Kim”, John said, “And I’m sorry this happened to you, bu-“.

  “Let me go”, Kim insisted, “Let me try and make it out there”.

  “Is that really what you’d want?”, John asked, looking briefly out into the grey distance before returning his gaze to the woman in front, “Left out there to slowly turn?”.

  “Better that than this”, she said.

  John stared at the woman in front for a moment, an utterly hopeless individual that he had an immense amount of sympathy for. “Okay Kim”, John eventually conceded, much to Kim’s surprise. “But I’m walking you out of here, alright?”, he said, to which Kim nodded, “Okay then, let’s go”.

  Cautiously Kim began to walk, heading in the direction of the stairwell, passing the bodies of her fallen former friends – as well as their killers – as she moved. Every few steps she’d look to her rear, checking that John was keeping his distance, before continuing on. Again she gripped her side as she winced in pain, and again she flicked her hair out of her eyes, as she began descending the first set of stairs.

  John followed behind, looking briefly to his right to see Lester begin the process of making sure each of the former residents wouldn’t come back to life in the hours that followed. It was an act with a reputation for being the second worst part of dealing with the aftermath of any such attack, and so John had a tremendous amount of respect for Lester for doing it, but before long, John turned his attention back forwards, and prepared himself for the worst part.

  “Thank you John”, Kim said, turning round the first set of steps and moving to the next. “I’m just”, she tried to speak, but an immense amount of pain and sadness caused her to stutter, “I’m not r-r-ready to… to die”, she exclaimed.

  “I know”, John said from behind her, as he caught up with the thin woman, “I don’t think anybody ever really is, but sometimes it’s just not up to us”, he explained.

  As soon as he could conjure the energy, John proceeded to drive his knife through the back of the woman in front’s head, the blade slicing through the skull dead centre, and cutting through masses of brain tissue in a matter in milliseconds. Without feeling a single thing, Kim simply drifted off into an indefinite sleep, with John catching her body before it fell, and lowering her softly to the ground, affording her a more dignified end than those that had fallen in this stairwell before her.

  “I’m so sorry”, John said yet again, a single tear cascading out of his right eye and clinging to his skin, before it leapt from his chin and onto the cold, blood soaked concrete below.

  Heartbroken and in immense emotional pain, John struggled to come to terms with the huge loss the camp had suffered in just one afternoon. But there was still work to be done, so he pushed his emotions to one side, arranged Kim in as dignified as way as he could manage – making sure to separate her from the undead bodies – and made his way b
ack up to Lester.

  “Thank God”, Lester said as John arrived, “I can’t do anymore, you gotta’ take over”, he insisted, as he pulled his own blade from the head of an elderly woman, who Lester had almost known since the very start.

  John had done his fair share of horrific things that day, but judging by how much Lester and Harvey had been through before the Ford had even returned, he imagined he’d still gotten off easy.

  “You got it”, he agreed, before making his way over to the last few remaining deceased residents, bites and scratches evident on various parts of their bodies.

  John made his way swiftly through the remaining few, trying as hard as he could not to relive any memories that involved any of the people in front. But as he arrived at the last body, an elderly Georgian woman known as Sandra, he couldn’t help but think of the conversation he’d had with her only a few days prior.

  “That promise I made you”, he said out loud to the soon-to-turn figure below, “I’m gonna keep it”, he said, as his hand slowly stroked the matted grey hair atop her head.

  Lester watched from a distance, his own heart breaking along with John’s.

  “I’m sorry”, John added softly, the words almost meaningless at this point, him alone having said it so many times in a single day.

  Upon hearing the words come out of John’s mouth, and seeing the blade be withdrawn from its holster, and then placed back in again seconds later in a more bloodied state, Lester approached John, and placed his hand on his shoulder.

  “C’mon John”, Lester said, “Let’s go check on Sonja”.

  John nodded, still staring at the woman below, before getting back up and tearing his gaze away.

  “I’m sorry”, he continued to mumble under his breath.