Damned Are We

by Durman, Jason

  careful y along a pathway beside the road. The smoke high in the air blotted out parts of the sky, and

  caused the sun's light to murkily and drearily filter through.

  After scrounging a charred map book from an abandoned car in front of the store, they were able to

  deduce that they had to travel several kilometres northwest to reach the airport. Even after they

  made their way out of the burning district, heavy fighting was stil evident everywhere – exploded

  vehicles were scattered throughout the city, spent bullet casings covered the ground, and corpses

  lay everywhere.

  The battle did not look like it was going well.

  "Hey, a supermarket!" Samantha exclaimed, pointing across the street.

  Corvo looked at her sharply. "Keep it down!" he hissed.

  She clapped her hands to her mouth, realising what she had done, but it was too late.

  An angry scream came from a nearby al eyway as three Common Infected came charging out of it,

  their eyes alight. A withering burst of gunfire from Corvo's carbine felled them before they could even

  cross the road. However, a throaty snarl echoed down the al eyway, fol owed by several piercing

  screeches all around.

  Samantha's mind back-flipped in panic. Oh god, oh god, she'd kil ed them al because she couldn't

  keep her fucking mouth shut.

  "Come on, let's get out of sight!" Markus exclaimed, breaking into a run across the road toward the supermarket.

  The others fol owed him and found that, to their surprise, the front doors were unlocked. Throwing

  caution to the wind, they ducked inside, locked the doors and slowly backed away into the dim store.

  The sounds of many pairs of feet pounding against the asphalt drifted in from the street, and the

  survivors backed away into the store, away from the glass doors. There were angry snarls and, from

  the sounds of it, a number of zombie brawls had broken out. After a while, the sounds outside

  ceased, and everyone slowly allowed themselves to relax.

  "Samantha," Corvo said, reaching into his pocket for a cigarette.

  "Yeah?" she peeped.

  "Do that again and you're grounded."

  "Yes sir."

  "Get a load of this place," Markus said, looking around. "It's been looted already, but there's stil loads of stuff left!"

  We might even find some peanut butter, Samantha thought, clapping her hands together silently.

  It was Markus who said what everyone was thinking. "Who's up for lunch?"

  "Shit yeah," Jacob grinned, reaching out and grabbing a bag of potato chips off the nearest shelf.

  "Alright, let's gather anything that looks useful and pile it here," Corvo said, casting a thoughtful glance toward the front doors. "Hopeful y the Infected outside wil disperse soon." He looked

  pointedly at the others. "We stil don't know if there are any hostiles in here, so we go in pairs."

  Samantha just about jumped a mile in the air, until she realised it was Jacob' hand on her shoulder.

  "Wanna be my date to the prom?" the burly man winked.

  "I told you not to do that!" she snapped.

  Corvo rol ed his eyes, before motioning for Markus to follow him into the stacks. "Stay alert."

  "Found some SPAM."

  "Nice work. Grab the cans of mushy peas next to it."

  "Mushy peas? Ugh, that stuff tastes like shit."

  "Jacob… Just get them, okay?"

  Samantha held her SIG-Sauer pistol forward in a firm two-handed grip as she led the way down the

  murky aisle – the gun-mounted flashlights they had found in the gun store already finding use. Her

  newly-found Winchester Model 70 was too unwieldy for the close-quarter conditions of the shopping

  aisles.

  Jacob brought up the rear, grabbing what food could be found off the shelves and shoving it into the

  open backpack strapped to her shoulders. It was a good system – she could keep an armed guard

  out and carry supplies at the same time, while he had both hands free to grab supplies, or a pistol if

  needed.

  The biker picked up a can of baked beans from the shelf. "I used to love baked beans," he said

  morosely, before tossing the can away over his shoulder. "You know what? I hate 'em now. I hate

  shopping, too. And shop clerks and check-out chicks. And doctors, and lawyers, and cops…"

  Samantha sighed in exasperation. "Jacob, is there anything you don't hate?"

  He paused. "You know what I don't hate? This."

  She looked at him in puzzlement. "'This'? What do you mean, 'this'?"

  The large man gestured al around them. "This! No work, no law, no responsibility. Just kil in' sons of

  bitches day in, day out. Livin' in the here and now. Hel , if it weren't for the zombies, I could almost

  get used to life like this."

  "Very funny, Jacob." The young woman shook her head in disbelief. "But seriously, how do you do it?

  How do you keep making jokes, when everything just keeps going to shit?"

  "I ain't jokin', Samantha," Jacob said genuinely. "The apocalypse is the best thing that ever

  happened to me."

  PHILADELPHIA

  TWO DAYS AFTER FIRST INFECTION…

  "So lemme get this straight," the 'Duke' said. "You break into a shop, steal a TV, tell the cop who catches you red-handed that you're a cop, and that the TV is evidence for a crime?"

  Jacob grabbed his beer from the bar counter and took a sip. "Yep. And that's why I'm going to

  prison."

  Duke shook his head in disbelief. " Man, are you dumber than you look!" He nodded at a large man standing next to him, wearing a matching Midnight Riders denim jacket. "Ain't I right, Danny?"

  A petite, young woman with strawberry-blonde hair hugged Jacob tightly. "I'm gonna miss you,

  Jacob!"

  The biker hugged her back. "Yeah… I'll miss you too, Becky."

  "...Sandra."

  "Whatever," Jacob replied, taking another swig of beer. "We'll have plenty of time to learn each other's names during conjugal visits."

  The bartender laughed. "Unless you're going to jail in another state, you ain't gettin' no conjugals!"

  Jacob almost choked on his drink. "Huh – what?!"

  "Pennsylvania don't do conjugals, buddy," Danny interjected.

  "God damn it!" he growled. "Next time I impersonate a cop, remind me not to do it in Ohio!"

  "Better not waste any more time, then!" Sandra giggled, grabbing him by the arm and pul ing him along toward the back door. "Come on, Jacob!"

  "You kids have fun!" Duke hooted after them.

  The pair burst into a dark back hal way and immediately brought their heads together, engaging in a

  long kiss. Jacob moved his hand down Sandra's side and rested it just above her hip. Their lips were

  locked in a tender kiss, and the biker felt the young woman's tongue twisting its way into his mouth.

  He unfurled his tongue in response, and began to feel a hot, rushing sensation in his lower region.

  He made to move his hand lower –

  GLOMP. Without warning, Sandra vomited a sickly-looking green fluid al down his side.

  "Aw, Jesus!" he hollered.

  Sandra held a hand to her mouth, her entire body heaving. "Oh god, Jacob! I'm so sorry!"

  "My vest!" he exclaimed angrily, turning to leave.

  "Jacob – wait."

  The young woman wrapped her arms around him and gently pulled him back toward her. She bowed

  her head apologetically and slowly eased him closer, as her breathing stuttered and her heart

  fluttered wildly. She roughly pul ed the man closer and closer.

  "OW! WHAT THE FUCK!" Jacob roared, pushing her away and bringing his hand to the painful bite

&nb
sp; mark on his neck. His hand came away sticky. "First you puke on me. Then you bite me! What's

  next, you gonna take a crap on me?" He turned and marched back toward the main bar. "If I go to

  jail in another state, you are banned from conjugal visits!"

  Behind him, he did not see Sandra's figure stalking him briskly. Her eyes were brimming with rage,

  and her teeth were clenched as she snarled. Jacob turned to see her coming up behind him.

  "Oh, hey Beck – augh! Holy shit! " he yelped, as Sandra launched herself through the air straight at him, murder on her mind.

  CHOOM!

  A deafening gunshot exploded throughout the bar, and a bloody hole appeared in Sandra's chest in

  mid-air. Chunks of flesh and blood arced through the air. She was thrown backward and fel on her

  back, never to move again. Jacob whirled around in shock to see Duke hefting a smoking shotgun,

  and looking rather pleased with himself.

  "Yeah!" he hollered. "That's what I'm talkin' about!"

  "Duke, what the hel ?!" Jacob yel ed. " You just shot Sandra! "

  "Nope."

  "Duke, we al just watched you do it, you – "

  "She was a zombie, you idiot," Duke said over his shoulder as he walked toward the bar. "I hate to break it to you folks, but this ain't no flu!" He leaned back against the bar, grabbed his beer and took a long drink. "That's just what the government wants us to think. First they tried to kil us with heroin.

  Then they built the satel ites. Then cel phones. Connect the dots, man."

  "Duke..." Danny began, but the biker in question cut him off with a wave of his hand.

  "It was all leading up to this." He pointed out the window. "Apocalypse."

  The others fol owed his gaze and were shocked at the scene that was unfolding right outside the bar.

  Large crowds of people were attacking each other, with unfortunates being mauled or beaten to

  death with bare fists. Blood ran in the streets.

  "Holy shit..."

  "And you fell for it. Hook, line and sinker," Duke continued smugly. " Now who's crazy?"

  Jacob casual y reached behind the counter and poured himself another beer. " You are, Duke. But

  you're right about one thing. If everybody out there's a zombie... then everybody's a zombie but us! "

  He excitedly stood up on the counter for effect, but al it achieved was making him look rather sil y.

  "Zombies can't put us in jail! Zombies can't do anything. They're idiots! Which means... we can

  do whatever the hell we want! "

  "Too right, buddy!" Duke agreed.

  Jacob eyed the shotgun. "And if these things are tryin' to kil us, then I know exactly what I wanna

  do."

  Ten minutes later, the bartender and the three bikers were walking out onto the roof of the tavern, a

  duffel-bag ful of guns and ammunition carried between them.

  "Everybody grab a gun and a beer!" Jacob called, walking over to the edge of the roof. "The night's gettin' warmed up, and we got plenty of both!"

  "Jesus..." Danny blanched, looking down into the streets at the enraged people below.

  Jacob pulled out an old-fashioned hunting rifle, raised it to his shoulder, and fired. A spray of red mist

  shot up from a man's head below as he crumpled to the ground. He whooped and hol ered between

  gunshots that rose up into the night.

  NEWBURG

  PRESENT DAY…

  19 HOURS UNTIL FAILSAFE

  Samantha found herself shocked, irritated, and ultimately saddened by Jacob' story. "Your girlfriend turned?"

  Jacob shrugged. "Wel , she wasn't real y my girlfriend at the time…"

  "You don't seem too concerned. Did she mean nothing to you?"

  "I was sad to see her die, sure," he muttered, tossing back a handful of potato chips. He proffered the bag to Samantha, to which she declined. "But she was just some girl, you know?"

  A beat passed as the former col ege girl led the way down the dark aisle. "What about us?" she

  finally said. "Are we just some survivors you happened to bump into?"

  Jacob continued to pick items off the shelf, stuffing them into the backpack Samantha was wearing.

  His work was interrupted when she stopped walking, and turned to face him. Her eyebrows were

  raised expectantly and a long silence followed.

  "No."

  Chapter 45

  8 HOURS UNTIL FAILSAFE

  Captain Wil iams was not happy.

  His superior, an experienced Major with a knack for urban warfare, was dead – torn in half by a

  hooded man with viscous claws. As such, it had fal en to him to take command of the rearguard

  detachment and cover the withdrawal from Newburg.

  Gunfire clattered in the distance, intermingled with the sounds of explosions.

  Fuck it al to hell, the young man cursed to himself.

  They had fought fiercely for the city for over a week, but it belonged to the Infected now. The past

  twenty-four hours had been a miserable experience, with their remaining posts in the streets

  overrun. The main forces had already been successful y evacuated, and the remainder of the

  rearguard was now retreating to the airport, but there were stil many soldiers trapped within the city.

  Wil iams' standing orders were to hold the airport until 0530 hours the fol owing morning, when a C-

  130 Hercules transport would arrive for the final withdrawal from Newburg.

  His earpiece exploded with static. "Captain! They've overrun the outer district!" a desperate voice shouted over distorted gunshots.

  "Fal back to the airport perimeter," the young captain ordered curtly. Adjusting the frequency, he spoke into the microphone again. "Forward units are coming in hot. Have the M2 machine-gun

  emplacements set up just outside the terminal, and ready to lay down covering fire immediately."

  A rapidly-col apsing outpost. No air support. No reinforcements. Wil iams sighed and put his game-face on. It was not going to be easy.

  "I can't believe you're still wearing that tie, Markus," Jacob scoffed between handfuls of Milo cereal, straight out of the box. "What, you got a meeting on later or something?"

  "You know who's going to survive this mess, Jacob?" Corvo said. "It ain't the fel a makin' jokes."

  "Pfft. We're in the world's biggest bar-fight right now – I don't plan on backin' out so easy."

  The considerable amount of food they had managed to scrounge up in the darkened aisles of the

  supermarket was too big to al fit into the backpack, and so the group had taken it upon themselves

  to finish what was left for lunch. Samantha considered them to be quite lucky – between this

  supermarket and the grocery store they had found back in Riverside two days ago, they had

  managed to eat quite well. Despite the fact that most of what they were eating was junk-food, she

  figured that the excessive running, jumping and shooting satisfied the Heart Foundation's

  recommended thirty minutes of exercise per day.

  If the Heart Foundation even existed anymore.

  "It's weird," she commented after a spoonful of cold canned soup. "I mean, normally the

  supermarkets and grocery stores are the first things to get picked clean as the panicked crowds try

  to flee from the cities."

  "You and your movie shit," Corvo muttered as he took a smoke break. "You need a new hobby, kid."

  "Can I bum a cigarette?"

  "Smartass."

  There was a good-natured silence as the group finished off the perishable food that they could not

  bring with them.

  "No one was ready for it, I guess," Markus said suddenly. Seeing everyone's eyes on him, he

  decided to elaborate. "I mean, it only took a few days for things to spiral out
of control. By the time

  people realised what was happening, it was already too late."

  A rather sombre silence enveloped the scene at his words.

  "We all set to go?" Corvo final y said, lifting the M4.

  Everyone nodded and stood. Samantha walked over to where she had left her Winchester rifle

  leaning against the aisle shelf and slung it back over her shoulder. She turned to pick up the now-

  laden backpack, only to find Markus putting it on.

  "It's alright, I got this," he said. "You're carrying that big, mean hunting rifle now, while both my pistol and Glock can fit into my holster. Besides, you've been on backpack duty long enough."

  "Thanks, Markus," she replied with a warm smile. He was a good friend. "It's purple – at least it sort of matches your tie," she teased. Seeing him wearing him such a girly backpack, she could not resist

  a little light-hearted ribbing.

  "Stay close, and keep quiet," Corvo said as he led the way toward the exit. "No unnecessary noise."

  He looked pointedly at Samantha with this statement, and she flushed red with embarrassment.

  17 HOURS UNTIL FAILSAFE

  Thick and heavy smoke choked the sky above the city, basking it in an eternal twilight. Samantha

  gripped her pistol tighter as the group made its way down the street, which was becoming steadily

  more choked with bodies and rubble. Fires burned freely.

  "Wonder where the army guys are," Markus said quietly to Corvo, moving up to walk next to him. "Or al the Infected, for that matter. Haven't seen anyone since we left the supermarket."

  "We're sure as hel seein' evidence of al the fighting, though," the older man grunted, a smoking

  cigarette hanging from the corner of his mouth. He cast a sidelong glance at the darkened windows

  they passed and scowled. "I don't like it."

  "The army's stil gotta be out there," Markus pointed out. "We heard gunfire not al that long ago."

  "That could just be other civilians who got their hands on some hardware. They're just as hosed as

  we are."

  "Don't be like that, man. It doesn't help. I'm sure there's stil someone over at the airport."

  Corvo chose not to answer, his wary eyes darting back and forth. He maintained a tight grip on the

  M4 carbine, ready to fire at a moment's notice. He did not like the way it was so quiet. A wandering