Dark Rhodes

by Michael Canon

  He handed me a large, heavy, black and gray military-style backpack of full magazines, a cleaning kit, and a dozen 40mm grenades, and quickly turned to head the way he came.

  Looking back, his calm face took on a very serious expression. “This facility is compromised. I gotta get back; I need to get as much gear out as possible. Head for the docks at the back of the warehouse. Save the mags in your pack, there will be crates of full magazines all along the route to the boats. Be safe Ashleigh Rhodes, I hope we will see each other again. I’ll pray for you until then,”

  I was touched that someone who I just met apparently cared so much about me.

  A new set of black military boots and my armored tactical vest sat in a neat pile next to my cot. A small apology note from Diana said my boots could not be sanitized properly and had been disposed of. Frowning at the loss of my favorite work boots, I quickly put everything on. I added the extra magazines to my vest.

  There was a new, heavy Tanto-bladed knife and sheath at the bottom of the backpack, I slipped it into my right boot. I dumped all my new clothes into my pack, loaded a magazine into my new M4, charged the weapon and headed toward the docks.

  I shrugged into my pack as I followed a large group of Project Lazarus security folks leaving the area. I figured they knew where they were going. The sounds of fighting got louder and closer. There was no screaming or panic from the Lazarus employees, they were all acting like well-seasoned military professionals.

  As we passed the first four-way intersection, five Hunters in shredded Lazarus Project gear slammed into the lead element of our group!

  I watched as one Hunter pinned a man to the floor by his head, batted the rifle out of the man’s grip with its other hand. The killer zombie leaned forward and bit a huge chunk of flesh out of the left side of the man’s face. The man screamed but wasn’t giving up, as a wicked looking KA-BAR knife appeared in his right hand.

  Ignoring the Hunter’s exposed flanks, the man slammed the large knife through the monster’s left ear and into its brain. He pushed the lifeless Hunter off of him and his knife and jumped to his feet. Still ignoring his grievously wounded face, he moved forward and slammed his blade into the back of another Hunter’s skull as it was eviscerating its victim. He was already moving to his next target as he withdrew the knife.

  I watched one of the Hunters do something I’d never seen them do before. After slamming its victim against the wall, it bit the man’s face and then held him there! I was dumbfounded as I realized it wasn’t feeding on him, it was infecting him!

  I moved forward, drawing my new knife to attack the monster’s left flank. Sensing my presence, the Hunter threw the man down the hall as it turned to meet my attack. I watched it’s nostrils flare, seeing true hatred wash across its face. It knew I was as much of a threat to it as it was to me. Hissing loudly the Hunter attempted to grab me. I couldn’t let it get a hold of me, bite me, or draw blood. It would be too hard to explain right now. I ducked under its reach, bringing my blade up and under its arms, aiming for the soft area under the creature’s jaw.

  The killer zombie attempted to block the knife as I thrust upwards fast and hard. The razor sharp knife passed through the fingers of the Hunter’s left hand like they weren’t there, entering the soft tissue between the bottom jaw and directly into its brain. I rolled the monster to the right and off my knife, looking for another target.

  All five Hunters were down, but so were eight from our group. The guy that got bit first was talking quietly with another member of the group, before he quickly stepped away, drew his pistol, and shot himself in the head. The shot seemed abnormally loud to me, but this might have been due to the sad reason behind it.

  Another team member checked the man who had been bitten and held by the Hunter I killed. Shaking his head, he slid his knife through the unconscious man’s ear and into his brain. The rest of the group checked the remaining victims, each taking the grim, but appropriate measures to keep them from reanimating then cleaned their edged weapons.

  I was wiping down my knife as a muscular, but average looking guy, a few inches taller than me walked up and said, “Ashleigh?”

  I nodded yes. He offered his hand.

  “Josh Donovan, good to meet you. Diana and Vaughn very speak highly of you. I saw the videos of you, Diana, and Jason at the north door. You handle yourself well.”

  I replied, “Thanks, sorry about your friends, all of them.” Josh nodded in understanding.

  “Josh, we need to move, flirt later dude!” said the only other woman in our group.

  Rolling his eyes, Josh said to all, “Ok, let’s move. This is Ashleigh, she’s the one that held the north door with Diana and Jason.” which earned me a couple nods across the group.

  Josh continued, “Ashleigh, take left rear guard, Ronnie, join her on the right. It’s your job to keep our asses from getting bitten. Let’s move out!”

  We continued forward, our movements were fully tactical now. Every doorway or junction was suspect, with Ronnie and me walking backward more often than forwards.

  Two Hunters emerged about 60 feet behind us on our left and immediately sprinted for us.

  We both announced “Contact!” to the others and opened fire.

  Both Hunters were hit multiple times but kept coming until our rounds found their heads, shutting them down permanently.

  I passed a large plastic bin full of loaded magazines. I grabbed some for each of us, Ronnie thanked me and reloaded without taking his eyes off the hallway behind us.

  We heard gunfire and screaming as we approached a set of double doors with the word “Docks” on a plaque to the left of them. Josh and the others in the lead looked through the windows in the doors, then started to enter the area ready for a fight. My heart sank as at least 10 more Hunters appeared behind us.

  I screamed “Multiple contacts behind us!” as I opened up on them.

  Ronnie kept firing as he slid towards his wall, letting one of the other guys join us. I heard Jason and the others open fire into the dock area.

  I watched multiple Hunters take hit after hit to the torso and yelled, “Aim for their legs! Slow them down so we can headshot them! Stop wasting ammo on friggin’ body shots!”

  I saw two muzzles drop slightly and continue to fire, with the four lead Hunters falling on their faces seconds later.

  The remaining zombies were slowed down enough to allow me to take out two with headshots in quick succession. Three more went down but kept crawling towards us.

  The new guy yelled, “Fire in the hole!” As he launched a 40mm grenade out to meet the crawling monsters.

  “Oh damn, this is gonna hurt!” was my thought as I dropped to the floor and covered my head.

  The grenade detonated less than 50 feet from us, but the Hunters took most of the damage. The smell of Comp B explosive, smoke, and the sickeningly sweet smell of death hung heavy in the air. After quickly checking each Hunter to make sure they wouldn’t get up again we turned to join Josh and the others in the docks area.

  The docks were a full-scale battle. Screams from the living and the undead, along with all the weapons fire and explosives added to the cacophony and chaos of the battle.

  I was horrified as I watched two Hunters tear a man to pieces, not five feet from me. Cold fire enveloped me as unbridled rage took over. Walking towards the Hunters, I flipped my selector lever to Auto and opened up on them. Multiple rounds took each monster in the head, but I didn’t stop until my M4 ran dry. Another Hunter was on me before I could reload. I dropped my M4 and pulled my knife. The zombie hesitated momentarily as it took in my scent, and I launched myself at it. The bitterness, hatred, uncertainty, and horror of what had become of my world, of what had become of me, took hold.

  The zombie hissed at me, and I screamed back at it as I pressed my attack. My knife was a blur as I blocked its attacks and looked for any opening to inflict more damage. In seconds the Hunter bled from multiple wounds, none of them being close to fatal.
I knew how to kill it, I just wasn’t ready to do it yet. I severed fingers, left huge furrows in the creature’s arms and chest before I slammed the blade through the Hunter’s right eye. Pulling my knife free, I let the monster fall, forgotten, as I searched for another target. I was going to kill every one of these fuckers with my bare hands if need be.

  Two more Hunters ran towards me, but were caught off guard as I advanced on them! The first monster lost a hand as it tried to grab my vest. Both Hunters backed away and circled, trying to figure out how to gain the advantage. I pulled my Beretta and dropped both of them with single shots to the face.

  I turned back to see Josh locked in a life-and-death struggle with another Hunter. I ran to him as fast as I could. Grabbing the Hunter by the remnants of its Project clothing, I threw it over the railing and into the dark water of the dock area. Josh looked at me with naked surprise as I helped him to his feet. I picked up and loaded my M4 as I searched for another target.

  “Ashleigh!” shouted Diana from one of the boats to the right of us. “Get on one of the boats as fast as you can! There’s too many of them, we can’t hold them back much longer! The big boats with the VIPs are already gone, there’s no reason to stay anymore!”

  Just then, a minigun on the stern of a large boat to the right of us opened fire on the large mass of Hunters coming out the double doors we had just exited. To our far right, the mini-gun on a matching boat engaged more Hunters as they poured out the far right double doors.

  We used the few moments given to us by the minis to get aboard one of the boats. Josh and I were barely on board before the pilot yelled for someone to cut the lines as the boat’s big diesel motors spun up. Moving away from the dock the pilot expertly slid the large craft between a couple other boats and headed out.

  A lone Hunter launched itself off the dock, barely catching the port bow railing about three feet from me. Before it could climb aboard, I put a 9mm round through its right eye, and it disappeared into the dark water.

  Moving towards the open harbor, we were joined by one of the bigger boats with a minigun on the bow and aft. As the bow of the larger boat cleared the covered dock area, a Hunter dropped off the roof, slamming into the mini operator! More zombies poured off the roof and onto the boat deck. The pilot slammed the throttles to the wall to minimize the time the craft was exposed to the falling monsters. Another Project employee replaced the fallen mini operator, elevating the barrels to engage the zombies falling off the roof. The mini roared, decimating the zombies as they fell, but did little to slow the gruesome waterfall of undead raining down on us.

  Turning to Jason, I ask, “How the fuck did they get on the damn roof?”

  Jason replied, “This warehouse and the one next door are connected by rooftop pedestrian walkway. Some of the people here wanted to drop it but were worried the clean-up would hamper our ability to secure the area around this warehouse in time. The decision was made to block off access between the two buildings. No one ever thought zombies would be anything more than the slow shuffling ones. I guess 40+ years of books, movies, and TV shows jaded us to what a zombie could be.”

  Our pilot slipped as far to the right as he could, bumping the hull next to us, then jammed the throttles to the stops. The powerful craft hesitated for a second then launched forward like a rocket. Only three of the falling monsters hit the deck, but we were ready for them and dispatched them in seconds.

  It was dark outside, and most of the lights in the city were out. We were clear of the docks and moving away at a rapid pace when I watched a broken, but not dead Hunter attack the other boat’s minigun operator! The operator’s screams could be heard over the roar of his weapon. He thrashed as the monster tore into him. In his attempt to escape from the Hunter, the man continued to twist and turn, with his finger still on the gun’s trigger! Jason and I dropped to the deck as our boat was peppered with a stream 7.62 rounds. We watched as the crew and passengers of the other boat killed the Hunter, and regained control of the minigun.

  Our boat was still moving away under full throttle. Due to our speed and the pervasive darkness, we quickly lost sight of the other boats. Scanning the area, I tried to orient myself with any the local landmarks. I could tell my night vision was enhanced, but even with this enhancement, it was just too dark to identify landmarks without the assistance of man-made light.

  I looked over the stern at the Boston skyline to try to use the city as a reference point. Even it looked odd only being lit in random locations by fire. Electric lighting was still working at what had to be the airport, but nowhere else across the Boston skyline.

  Turning back towards the bow, I tried to figure out where we were going. I see the dark outline of an island coming up on our left, with another one behind it.

  It was too dark to tell, but I thought one of the islands on the port side could be Long Island. Long Island sounds wrong to me, but I figured that New York didn’t have an exclusivity to the name itself. I thought it had to be right since I knew I had fished there and on Moon Island with my dad as a kid, even though in reality I had never set foot on either island in my life, never mind fished with my dad. I shook my head and thought, “Hello, crazy? This is Ashleigh Rhodes, I’ll take a double order of colossal-mind-fuck to go, please!”

  Our boat turned slightly to port as it passed between the two islands, with two more coming up on either side of us. We heard short scream below deck and realized something wasn’t right.

  Jason and I started to walk to the stern but stopped as two Hunters emerged from the small stairwell. After seeing enough of these monsters in the last two days for a lifetime, I knew they were Hunters because of the lack of clothing from the waist down. I just hadn’t worked out the “why” to this observation yet.

  The Hunters were looking towards the starboard side and had not seen us yet. Jason raised his rifle, and whispered, “Right.” My rifle came up as both Hunters looked to port and we both fired. The monsters folded on themselves as the high-velocity rounds penetrated their skulls. Before the first two had settled to the deck, three more Hunters rushed out of the stairwell and charged us. Jason dropped one immediately, but the boat slid over something in the water, throwing our aim off for the others.

  A female Hunter launched herself at me, slamming me into a railing, then to the deck. I grabbed her by the throat with my left hand, while searching for my knife with the right. I’m stronger than her, but she had the advantage of being on top. She raked my body with one hand while using the other to try to dislodge my hold on her neck. As we fought, I’m able to bring a knee up under her groin area, giving me access to my knife. I slash the underside of her left bicep. I feel the zombie’s left arm become almost useless as the muscle and tendons are severed.

  Hunters are a lot stronger and able to absorb more damage than a normal person, but they are still governed by normal human physiology. Meaning that if you cut or damage the right areas, you can turn them into a hissing doormat.

  Now that I knew I had the advantage, I had to resist the almost overwhelming urge to feed. I rolled us to the left, pinning her to the deck. A quick knife thrust to the side of the head shut her down for good. I looked over to see Jason on his hands and knees panting, a large military looking knife was sticking out of the head of the zombie next to him. I cleaned my knife on the dead Hunter’s shirt, then headed over to Jason.

  I asked, “How are you doing, you bit?”

  Shaking his head, he said, “No, it tried to bite through my left glove. The Kevlar held, but I think I’ve got some broken bones.”

  I was inspecting Jason’s hand as he screams, “Brace for impact!” The boat, still traveling at top speed, glances off of something immense on its starboard side, then ricocheted off it at an angle. The damage to the boat’s bow causes the craft to nose dive and list heavily to starboard. Moments later, I feel the boat leaving the water and impact something very hard. I’m thrown forward into a churning mass of shredded fiberglass, glass, wood, and metal befo
re I was slammed into whatever the boat had just hit and lost consciousness.

  35

  I could hear sounds, metal on metal, someone breathing, the rustling of fabric, then darkness. Later, I try to move but realize I’m tied to a bed with heavy cord. Opening my eyes, I see a small cabin with one small round window.

  “I’m on a boat or ship,” was my thought, but I couldn’t feel any movement at all. I hear someone walking in the hallway outside the door. A very dark-skinned black man – no woman, opens the door and enters the room. Our eyes meet, and we look at each other for a moment, before she spoke.

  “Well, you’re not hissing at me, so I guess that means you can talk. So let’s hear it before I decide to punch a hole on your skull. Don’t think about bullshitting me either.”

  Her voice is strong for a woman but has an almost musical lilt to it. She has an air of being certain of her own environment, very matter of fact, no pretenses included.

  I cleared my throat and said, “Hello, my name is Ashleigh Rhodes, I’ll talk, but could I have some water please?”

  I heard her heartbeat slow down by a dozen beats or so, and knew she was immediately happier knowing she might not have to kill me.

  She left and came back with a small plastic bottle of water. Cracking the top, she slid a hand under my head to help me raise it up. I drank almost the whole bottle before I told her I was done with my eyes. Setting the bottle down, she grabbed a small cabin chair and sat down, looking at me to start my story.

  I told her everything. From my arrival at the Davron Group to our departure from the Lazarus warehouse. I finish with, “The last thing I remember is our boat hitting something hard and me hitting it a second later.”

  Her expression softened, and she began to untie me, asking, “Y’all aren’t planning on eating me are you?”

  I scrunched up my face and said, “No, not at all, thank you very much.”

  She gave me an indignant look, and said mockingly, “What’s wrong with me? You don’t like dark meat?” her musical laughter fills the small room, and a brilliant smile appears in stark contrast to her dark complexion.