The Hunt Chronicles (Volume 1): Awakening

by J. D. Demers

  Campbell seemed a little taken aback by the way he was talking to him. I had a feeling this wasn’t the first officer the Fish had berated. The Lieutenant composed himself.

  “If they’re that tough, I doubt just the four of you is enough,” Campbell pressed. “What the hell are we supposed to do if you guys don’t make it out?”

  “Burn the fucking building down,” Fish said in a harsh tone.

  “And it’s five,” I chimed in, earning a look from the three men as I grabbed a piece of jerky and fed it to Boomer.

  “I’m not going to lie,” DJ said, ignoring my comment, “I’m scared shitless to go in there, but I will. I saw a scab reach out of a window and grab a two hundred pound man. He was there one minute, gone the next. I know they’re strong and I’ve heard plenty of stories,” the big man shook his head, “but you need to give us an idea of what we’re doing before I put my fat ass on the line.”

  I could tell Fish had a higher opinion of DJ than Campbell, which I thought was a little unwarranted. Perhaps it was because the Lieutenant was green, or maybe because he was Military Intelligence. There was usually a rift between line troops and the people who told them where to go and what danger they were facing. From what I heard, the intelligence that was given was usually less than accurate. I didn’t think Campbell wasn’t a fool, though, and I thought he deserved a little more respect from Fish. But as usual, I stayed quiet and kept my thoughts to myself.

  “Alright,” Fish said, looking more at DJ than Campbell, “the four of us, plus the pooch,” he added with a glare in my direction, “go in through the main door. The front windows should give us some decent light to make entry. I’m pretty sure the scab will be somewhere in the darker areas. It will be hiding and waiting for us to make a mistake.”

  “This dog,” Fish continued, pointing at Boomer, “can sense or smell those things. Christian is his handler, so we need him to guide us.” He stopped for a second and looked over at the group of survivors staring at us.

  “Daniel, get over here,” Fish called out.

  Daniel took a moment and frowned at his friends. After the brief hesitation, the medic lightly jogged over to us.

  “Come to your senses yet?” Daniel said, jogging up. He was trying to be funny, but I could tell he was nervous.

  “Put a tampon in and listen,” Fish said. All three of them looked at him, stunned. I was so used to his insults by now, I barely noticed. He ignored their stares and continued. “Like I told them, we go in through the front. That scab shouldn’t be there. Christian and Boomer will track the scab and that Kayla girl. With any luck, she is still alive and unsullied. If she’s hurt, you’ll be there to take care of her. If she’s bit…” he paused, glaring at all of us, “I’ll take care of her.”

  Each of them stared at him hauntingly and DJ appeared to be relieved to hear Fish say that.

  I remembered what it was like to kill a friend. I’ve seen DJ’s dark side when he beat the crap of Chad, but I’ve also seen his good side. He didn’t seem the sort that would easily kill someone he was close to, not to mention this group had been together longer than we had known Judy. Fish may have sounded cold to them, but I knew him better than that, and knew why he didn’t want to see someone go through the change.

  “Campbell,” Fish continued, “you distribute all of your shooters at the exits, just in case we flush this thing out. They flee if they get wounded or feel out matched. If it tries to make a run for it, you shoot, and don’t quit shooting until the thing stops moving. Even then, shoot it a couple more times. If anything or anyone comes near one of the doors, you don’t hesitate to give the order.”

  I realized what Fish just did. He knew the Lieutenant had to keep a high level of esteem among his group. As much as Fish didn’t seem to respect the Campbell, he knew the Lieutenant had his responsibilities. By Campbell going to the others and issuing mandates, he would still seem to be in charge. Only the five of us knew it was Fish pulling the strings on this operation.

  Campbell seemed to understand this as well. He gave a curt nod of agreement and thanks to Fish.

  “What if it’s us running through those doors?” Daniel asked. “Do we give out a ‘ka-kaw’ or similar mating call? I’d rather not have a welcoming barrage of lead.” He was trying to be serious, but the way it came out combined with his jovial face made me smile and suppress a chuckle.

  “We don’t leave until the job’s done,” Fish said. “Christian will carry the radio. We’ll let the LT know when the building is clear.” He glared at Daniel, “That means you DO NOT run. Stay with us at all times.”

  “Okay, I get it. No running. I’m not much for exercise anyway,” Daniel joked.

  “Did any of you get a look at the scab?” Fish asked, ignoring the medic’s dry humor.

  “I took a shot at it as it ran into the building. Missed him, though,” Campbell said. “The thing was fast.”

  “What did it look like?” he asked.

  “Well, he was tall and shirtless,” Campbell described. “There were scars and gouges all over his chest and face. Jeans were ripped up to his knees. Short brown hair. Probably about two hundred and twenty pounds.”

  I let out a whistle, earning a ‘grow up’ look from Fish.

  “What about its beard?” Fish asked.

  I thought that was a weird question to ask. I mean, did it really matter?

  “Umm, probably a couple of weeks’ worth of growth I’d guess,” Campbell replied a little awkwardly. I think a few of us were wondering why that was important, but no one asked.

  Fish thought about that for a moment.

  “Maybe you should go get your people ready, LT,” Fish said, in a surprisingly respectful tone.

  The Lieutenant nodded, “Let me know when you’re ready,” then he walked over and explained the situation to his group.

  Fish’s eyes followed Campbell until he was out of earshot, then looked back at the three of us.

  “Get this straight,” Fish said harshly, “whatever horror stories you’ve heard about scabs, there is a good chance they’re true, or damn near close. Daniel, you’re going to use Christian’s Glock. Christian, grab the MP5 out of the truck. It has a silencer already attached.”

  At first I was confused, and then realized he was talking about the submachine gun he gave me back at the Walmart. I had heard of MP5’s and knew they shot 9mm rounds, just like my Glock. Any warfare gamer knew that. I handed my gun over to Daniel.

  “You ever fire one of these?” I asked him.

  “Nope,” he said, and nervously took the gun from me. “Patched up the end result a few times, though,” he joked.

  How could someone still be alive a month into the zombie apocalypse and still not have fired a gun? They probably kept Daniel out of harm’s way as much as possible. He was the closest thing to a doctor they had.

  “We’re only going to go in with suppressed weapons. I’m not dealing with the concussion of gunshots and the company it will bring down on this compound,” he said, referring to nearby zombies that may hear a gun battle.

  Fish nodded toward DJ’s AK-47, “That Kalashnikov is going to be the best one we have. These things can take a few bullets and keep moving, so the higher the caliber, the better. Christian and Daniel’s pea shooters will just slow it down. I think they still need organs like every other living creature, but I’m damn sure they don’t feel a lot of pain.”

  “What’s the marching order?” DJ asked.

  “Christian is up front,” Fish replied. “DJ behind him, then Daniel. I’ll bring up the rear. If the shooting starts Daniel, you get your ass in a corner and stay there. The only reason why your weapon should be pointed in any direction except down is if the three of us are dead, you get me?”

  Daniel nodded. “Down, dead, point, got it.”

  “Alright, guys, gear up. We make entry in fifteen mikes.” With that, Fish started walking over to our truck. After a brief glance at the other two, I followed him to get my new gun. Boo
mer galloped behind me.

  Fish was loading up his gear while I removed my AR-15 magazines and replaced them with the four MP5 mags I grabbed off the motorcycle jacket guy.

  I had a feeling it was from a police unit, probably SWAT. The silencer was built into the gun, and it had both a laser sight and a flashlight. It also had a red dot sight, but the battery must have died a while ago. I didn’t really need it because I could see the iron sights through the red dot window.

  The magazine that was already in the gun was full, along with the four I had in my vest. Each mag held thirty rounds. That was a lot of shooting. Fish commented to me that I should leave it single fire until I got the scab in my sites, then switch to auto. I complied and practiced switching from single fire to auto for a few minutes to ensure I didn’t mess up when and if a firefight ensued.

  While we prepared, I watched the others move into position. They had enough armed people to have three on each exit. I could see Private Gardner on the rooftop, keeping an eye out over the fence. DJ was over at the U-Haul, hugging a woman and a small child. Daniel had filled a medic pack with supplies and was walking around with it on his back.

  I thought about the fight I had with the only scab I had faced. The thing was tough and whipped my ass in my own backyard. But then again, I never had my gun out until it was running away. Fish made short work of it in the bedroom when it came back for us, but we had also surprised it. There would be no surprising this one. It would know we were coming as soon as that front door opened.

  My stomach was yelling at me. I hadn’t eaten since we left earlier that morning, and now it was pushing 3 o’clock in the afternoon. I took the last few minutes to scarf down part of an MRE I had stashed in my pack. It was the first one I had dug into since all of this began. I knew it was high in carbs and energy. I have to say, after years of cursing MRE’s and swearing never to eat them again, it wasn’t half bad. The shaky feeling in my stomach, however, did not go away.

  “What’s with the beard obsession?” I asked Fish, finishing off the pasta in the little green pouch.

  Fish looked up at me while he was adjusting the flashlight on his cap. “What do you mean?”

  “Well,” I said, “when you asked about the scab’s beard. You seemed pretty interested. Why does it matter?”

  Now, I’ve known Fish long enough to know that he didn’t like discussing things until he was done figuring out whatever puzzled him. His eyes shifted as he hesitated.

  “You and I shave every couple of days, as do most of the people in this camp. I’m not saying all survivors are keeping up on their grooming, but I’m damn sure these scabs don’t.” He cocked an eyebrow. “I’m just wondering if these things get smarter or stronger the longer they’ve been infected.”

  That thought never occurred to me, and I won’t lie, it didn’t make me feel good.

  Eventually, we all gathered at the entrance to the store. I was so nervous that I wanted to puke up the spaghetti and meatballs I just ate, but did my best to hold it in.

  The exits that were still available were double doors in the back for loading in large bundles of supplies, the garden entrance, which was at the far left front of the building, and the main entrance, which was a pair of glass double doors in the middle of the front of the building. All were covered by soldiers and armed civilians. They had set up firing positions about twenty feet back from the exits. Bags of mulch were stacked like sand bags creating defensive revetments for the shooters.

  Campbell met us at the door and keyed up the police radio to make sure we had a connection. I nodded and adjusted the ear piece.

  “Alright,” he said, “my teams are ready. Try to keep us updated, will ya?”

  Fish smirked. I nodded to the Lieutenant in acknowledgement.

  “How old is Kayla, anyway?” I asked DJ.

  “Eight. Cute little girl with blonde hair,” he responded. I winced.

  “Christian,” Fish said, motioning over to the door with his .45, “your move.”

  I reached down and petted Boomer. He already seemed nervous, so I fed him a piece of jerky in an attempt to calm him down. I took the lead and moved up to the door.

  Boomer immediately let out a soft whine. His tail was low and his ears were back on his head. He gave me sad eyes, begging not to make him go in as I opened the door.

  “Come on, boy,” I whispered. After a brief hesitation, he prowled up next to me and we both entered the front of the store.

  I cut my flashlights on, and saw the lights from the rest of our group coming into view from behind me. I glared back at Fish, with a questioning look on where to go. He motioned to the back right corner of the building. I decided that he meant to cut right, then head towards the back of the store. That way we would have a wall on one of our flanks. Maneuvering through the aisles seemed like a really reckless thing to do.

  Boomer walked just a few paces in front of me. He was sniffing the ground, but raising his head every so often with his ears perked, listening to something we couldn’t hear.

  We finally made it to the bend and started heading toward the back of the store. It was a lot darker back there. There was very little ambient light as we patrolled further towards the back of the store, and our flashlights seemed to intensify the dark areas that were not illuminated.

  Boomer stopped. The hair on his back stood up. He looked at me, and gave a soft whine telling me that a creature was lurking nearby. I looked around and gave the ‘fist’ sign which told them to stop. Everyone did except Daniel, who bumped into DJ, earning a slight grunt from the big man.

  From our position, I could see down the middle of the store. There was nowhere for anything to hide on either side of the aisles.

  A slight stench hit my nose. I was used to smelling the rotting dead, but this was slightly different. It was still repulsive, but not as bad as a zombie that had marinated in the Florida sun for a couple of weeks.

  A noise coming from one of the aisles forced me to shine my gun’s light in that direction. Boomer still faced straight ahead toward the back of the store, whimpering. It sounded as if a stick was being dragged intermittently across gravel, eerily grinding against the rocks.

  My heart had been pumping since we entered the store, but now had moved into my throat and ears. I lifted the MP5 and could see the front sight on the end shake with every thump.

  A small figure emerged from around the aisle. She was short and her long blonde hair was matted with dark red spots. Her dirty white blouse was soiled with blood. Just below her throat was a gaping hole, as if someone had jabbed an iron spike into her chest and then ripped it out. Her head was cocked to the side and a dark liquid leaked from her open mouth. A low, guttural croak was escaping from within her.

  But that wasn’t the worst part. She was hopping on her right leg, barely keeping her balance. The flesh of her left leg had been stripped from her toes to the knee. The bones of her foot ground across the tile floor as she hobbled toward us.

  I didn’t have to personally know Kayla to be repulsed. The horror of something ripping the meat from the leg of this little girl and eating it was flashing through my mind. I wasn’t the only one. A gasp from Daniel and the sound of DJ cursing could be heard off to my left.

  I was just coming to grips with what was in front of me when I heard Boomer bark. Simultaneously, I heard the sound of squeaky wheels being pushed across the floor somewhere off to the right of me. I spun, just in time to see a large flatbed push cart racing in my direction. Boomer had already moved, but I wasn’t as fast.

  The cart rammed into my legs and flipped me up in the air. I crashed down, smacking part of my back on the cart, which knocked the wind out of me.

  The next few moments were somewhat of a blur. I heard the sound of silenced weapons and shells hitting the tiled floor. The acrid smell of weapons fire filled my nostrils. DJ and Daniel were cursing aloud, and Fish was shouting incomprehensible commands. A body flopped on the floor next to me. I looked over and saw Kayla lyi
ng there, blankly staring at me. Two fresh nickel sized holes were oozing red and black blood from her forehead.

  “Get up, Christian!” The sound of DJ’s voice finally broke through the haze. I turned to look at the others. DJ was in a crouched stance, hovering over me with his AK aiming down the dark corridor the cart had come from. Daniel was quietly huddled behind him. I could tell he was severely shaken. Fish was scanning the rest of our flanks.

  “We have to get back into the open!” Fish called out. At that point I noticed Boomer was missing.

  “Boomer!” I yelled out, and then looked back at DJ as I stood up. “Where’s Boomer?”

  “Don’t know,” he said breathing heavy. “He ran off after you fell.”

  I could almost hear everyone’s heart beating frantically over my own. We were all frazzled. Fish was right, we had to get back and regroup, but what about Boomer?

  “Get moving!” Fish ordered, as he started backing up. DJ grabbed Daniel, pulled him to his feet, and pushed him back down the aisle toward Fish. We were all moving toward the entrance, but I was lagging behind, searching for Boomer.

  “Christian!” DJ sternly whispered to me. “Come on!”

  I turned to catch up and saw DJ’s eyes light up as my flashlight illuminated his face. I turned around just in time to see a toolbox the size of a suitcase flying over the top of the aisle. My reflexes failed me again as the edge of the metal box clipped the side of my head. I spun around and fell back to the floor, disorientated.

  I heard footfalls moving quickly up our aisle and rolled over. There was a bare-chested man running at me full speed. The lighting wasn’t the best, because all of my flashlights were pointing off in random directions, but it was enough to know I was about to be his next meal.

  His chest and face were covered in self-inflicted scrapes and cuts across his purplish tan skin. His dark brown hair was tangled and messy and about two weeks of facial hair covered his face, though parts were missing where the skin had been removed. In his hands he wielded a large pickaxe.