“Get this gate up, quick. We have a way out, but we can’t stay here long,” you say.
Several tough-looking men in suits start to comply and raise the barrier, but a tall, thin man with razor burn on the creases of his neck interrupts them.
“Don’t,” he says, stepping forward and gripping the gate.
You’re about to protest, but then he points behind you. The rear stairwell is thick with the shambling horde. A few quick strides to the rail show more gathered below. They flood in through the hole Corporal Gardner blew open, like shoppers on Black Friday. And you’re the last Blu-ray player.
You look back towards the Ambassador’s staff and all you see are pained, cold stares. Like they’re looking at a dead man. Slowly, they all turn away. They don’t want to watch you die.
The four Marines open fire, but there are far too many of the things. This won’t end well.
THE END
Firepower
“Sounds good to me,” Sam says, then, after Lily is out of earshot, “Just be careful not to blow us up.”
“Uhhh….”
“See these metal doors up front? It’s a decent barricade—for now. But let’s say tomorrow, a dozen of those infected bastards want in. Will it hold up? Or if a hundred come to find us the day after that? Or worse, what if Pawnshop Guy’s buddies show up and they want our supplies? How do you think we’d fare if somebody strapped a tow truck to the front and gave this door a good tug?”
You nod. “Makes sense. So how do we…make it better?”
“Well, we don’t. No door can stop an army. Not a door I can make here, anyway. No, we’re not making a bigger door. Our plan is to make no door, should the need arise.”
“I’m not sure—”
“Hear me out. We’re going to set the door to blow up in the event of an all-out attack. The front of the store will collapse, and that’s when we’ll start living up on the roof. So go back to the BBQ section and look for propane.”
You do as requested, but the propane area is under lock and key. Lucky for you, you’re in a hardware store and they sell bolt cutters here. On one of your many treks from the front to deliver propane canisters, you see a garden section. A display of seeds and, behind that, several dozen stacks of fertilizer.
“Hey, Unabomber, what about fertilizer? That can make bombs or whatever, right?” you say.
Sam grins. “Do you know how lucky we are that this crisis hit in spring? If it were the start of fall, this store would be full of leaf rakes and snow shovels. We’re gonna need those seeds in the long term. Humanity, I mean. If nothing else, we’ve got that on our side.”
“Why not start now? Plant some carrots, potatoes….”
“You want to stand out there and be a scarecrow?”
You point up. “Green roof. Ain’t that a thing these days?”
He’s nodding now. “Ty, I knew I had a good feeling about you. Know anything about gardening?”
“Some. My mom’s always watching those TV shows. Hell, it’s half of what she talks about too.”
“Good—I think you’ve got your own project now,” Sam adds.
• Start a rooftop garden.
MAKE YOUR CHOICE
Flame Retardant
You grab the fire extinguisher anyway, just in case you have to use the thing as a bludgeoning weapon. With even a quick pit-stop, the nutters are gaining ground. There’s a clear path up ahead, relatively speaking, as the nutters rush in from the eaves with every second. You can see the front door leading out of the infirmary. It’s a secure barrier with a small window of mesh-inlaid safety glass.
Off to the right a trio of undead paw at an office—with a guard and a doctor captive within.
• Help the guys out. Being eaten alive is a fate no man deserves.
• Keep going! It’ll only be clear for a few more moments.
MAKE YOUR CHOICE
Flower Power
Lily smiles. “Okay, mister, but I’m afraid that makes you my heavy lifter.” Good, you think, ready to work out some frustration. She bids you follow her to aisle eight, where you find some 50-gallon drums. “Bring all of these to the back; I’ll meet you by the bathrooms.”
They’re fairly easy to move, especially while empty, since you can just roll them on their sides. Once you bring the last, Lily meets you with a hose stretching from the women’s restroom. She places it in a smaller bucket next to an identical hose connected to the men’s room. The walls are lined with collapsible shelving, each shelf with a smaller mop-sized bucket or flower pot on top.
Noticing your look, she explains, “Sam says it’s only a matter of time before the infrastructure shuts down. So we need to maximize drinking water while we still have a chance. Put the biggest barrels in the corner, then out from there. Should be hard to move once full.”
“How long you been here?”
“Just today.”
“Don’t plan on leavin’ anytime soon?”
“The way Sam puts it, this is our new home. Until it isn’t.” You nod and your stomach growls loud enough for Lily to hear. “Good point, we haven’t thought much about food. There’s some beef jerky at the register?” the statement lilts at the end, making it a question.
“Yeah, I could use a lunch break. Woke up late and skipped breakfast.”
“Guess humanity is just having ‘one of those days.’ C’mon.”
Up front, Sam uses welding equipment to add reinforced pylons to the barrier. Lily goes for the snacks, and Sam stops to see what you’re doing.
Pushing his welder’s mask up, he says, “Hey, save those. National Guard should have some rations for us tonight.”
“These are snacks, Sam. Not real food,” Lily protests.
“Calories are calories.”
You look around while they continue to argue, and your eyes come to rest on a display of garden seeds. Behind that, there are a few dozen bags of soil. “Why not plant a garden?”
They both turn to you, then Sam says, “You want to stand out there and be a scarecrow?”
You point up. “Green roof. Ain’t that a thing these days?”
“Hey, now that’s a good idea,” Lily says. “We can ration out this stuff and whatever we get from the Army in the meantime.”
Sam nods, “I’ve already been thinking one day we’ll end up on the roof for good. Doesn’t matter how strong I make the entrance. If a couple dozen undead bastards want in bad enough…or, God forbid, somebody with a truck. Figured I’d set it to blow as a fail-safe.”
“I’ve got a brown thumb,” Lily says with an exaggerated frown. “Know anything about gardening?”
“Some. My mom’s always watching those TV shows. Hell, it’s half of what she talks about too.”
“Good—I think you’ve got your own project now,” Sam adds.
• Start a rooftop garden.
MAKE YOUR CHOICE
Follower
Shortly after the Ambassador and his staff enter the C17, the loadmaster comes out to tell you that you’re approaching maximum capacity.
“Pack it in, Marines! We’re done here,” Lt. Dosa shouts. He swirls his finger in the air to signal rendezvous and the gathered soldiers turn to board the aircraft. No one seems concerned that he called them all Marines. Old habits and Die Hard, you think.
The call to action successfully averted, you head back to your seat, which is now filled by refugees. The whole plane is filled wall-to-wall with dirty, destitute survivors, happy enough just to have a chance at a full life. If “Coyotes” brought illegal immigrants over in a C17, this is what it would look like.
One of the boys offers his seat against the wall and you gladly take it. There’s nothing quite like the post-climax that comes from surviving combat. The calm that follows is a bit like falling asleep after sex and a sandwich, only somehow better. You’ve just completed a biological imperative of the highest order: Surviving, despite the odds stacked against you.
It’s like a drug, and you’re on the
wonderful high that only a first-timer can experience. When the plane takes off and the combat adrenaline has officially worn off, your eyelids seem to weigh about a thousand pounds each.
• Fall into the deepest sleep you’ve ever known.
MAKE YOUR CHOICE
Fortified Position
“Melissa, stay with us here! The military will handle things. It’s safer here.”
A terrible sadness washes over your sister’s face. “We’ll meet again, Luke. In this life or the next.”
“Don’t….”
“Come find me,” she says, then takes off running.
“Imouto!”
She flees out the back door, leaving you reeling. Your heart aches, but when you turn back and see the wide-eyed stares of your students, you know you made the right choice. You stand up tall, clear your throat, and put on a brave face.
“My sister is frightened, and I’m sure you’ll long remember this day, but look outside—the army is setting up tents, see? They’re going to stay here and keep out any more crazies. And until your parents come to claim you, guess what? It is still Saturday, and we’re still having class.”
You cast a glance to Master Hanzo, who gives a nod of approval before retreating to the office. If Melissa is right, and all it takes is one bite, you need to get the idea of avoiding contact drilled into the children’s heads.
“Gear up. We’re going to run Ohji Waza—parry and counterattack. Form a line, you will each be fending off attacks from me, and I will not be going easy on you.”
“Even the kids?” Stella asks.
“You’re too strong,” Mason complains.
“A motodachi is what we call fighting a more advanced sparring partner. Why do you think we use this technique in training Kendo?”
“So we’ll become better?” Haley asks.
“After a rainstorm, the soil hardens,” you say, making a fist to emphasize the aphorism.
That’s when the National Guard soldiers show up at your door. With a gesture, you have Nolan open it for them. They wear full battle armor, complete with tactical vests. They’re covered head to toe, and the glare from the dojo lights on their gasmasks makes it difficult to see their faces.
The leader steps forward and says, “Good morning. My name is Captain Delozier and this area is now under military quarantine. Has anyone here been bitten?”
“I am Lucas Tesshu, master of this dojo. No one here has been bitten.”
“Okay, sure. That’s good news. But I’ll still need you all to come with me so we can keep you safe. There’s food, water, and a place to sleep.”
“Sleep? How long will we be gone?” Nolan asks.
“Not sure, little buddy. Until we’ve cleared the city of infected. Leave your sticks here; let’s go.”
• Refuse to leave. The children are your responsibility.
• Go along quietly. The military will protect you all.
MAKE YOUR CHOICE
Get Busy Drivin’
The modified school bus chugs to life when you turn the engine. I think I can (escape), I think I can (escape)…When you pull out of the garage, a massive gate sits between you and freedom. Do you have room to gain speed in this behemoth? Probably not. Unless you make room! You keep the bus in reverse and head towards the crowd behind.
They dart out of the way, with the exception of a few nutters that bounce off your rear bumper. Skidding to a stop, you shift to drive and floor the accelerator.
It takes a while for the bus to build up steam, but you’re soon up to ramming speed. By the time you make it to the inner gate, the barrier doesn’t stand a chance. You have to correct an involuntary fish-tail, but it barely slows you.
The second fence, the outermost barrier, is more formidable. Still, in this giant hunk of metal, you easily smash through the second fence. It catches something under the bus, and your side mirrors show a shower of sparks in your wake.
The police cruisers follow you out, the men inside honking horns and turning on the whoop whoop! of the siren in celebration.
Not far down the road, the scraps of gate trapped under the bus start to do serious damage. Thick, black smoke comes from under the hood and you can be sure you’re at the beginning stages of an engine fire.
You slam on the brakes, sliding across the road, and bring the bus to a stop. When you run outside, the police cruisers blast past you. The third and final car slows down and Celly leans out.
“Vaya con Dios!” he cries before gunning the engine and peeling away.
That’s it. You’re free of the prison, but you’re alone in the dead of the night. Better put some distance between you and that prison. Funny, the damage doesn’t look so bad from here.
• Take one last look, then start walking towards the city, a free man.
MAKE YOUR CHOICE
Get Busy Livin’
Right along the rural highway, dead of night, you walk. The state penitentiary is damn near thirty miles away from town, a short drive on an open highway, but far enough that a prison break is supposed to be easily contained. That is, of course, when there are still authorities to contain a break.
You’ve been walking for about three hours when you make it to a roadside rest area. Several signs still read: Prison Area—Do Not Pick Up Hitchhikers. After taking advantage of the men’s room and smashing open the vending machines, it’s time to continue on.
Walking the rest of the night, with the first hints of dawn on the horizon, you finally reach the outskirts of town. Several construction sites are under development and just beyond that awaits a shopping mall with a large “Grand Opening!!!” sign. Brand-spanking new. This area wasn’t even under construction yet when you rode from the courthouse to the prison.
Still, this is one of those moments where the sky metaphorically opens and a beam of sunlight shows the mall as a gift from God. Your dogs are barking and there’s nothing you’d rather do right now than find a Serta mattress, slip out of your shoes and jumpsuit, and experience the best night of sleep you’ve had in years. But before that can happen, there’s just one problem:
Several figures mill about the near-empty parking lot. Though you suspected as much, looks like the nutter scourge wasn’t just restricted to the prison. That’s why there was no police response sent to the Big House. They were busy enough here.
Great; now what?
• Scavenge the construction sites for something useful before heading over.
• They aren’t that many. Go now, before more show up, and find what you need in the mall.
MAKE YOUR CHOICE
Getting Late
The rest of the National Guardsmen depart, block by block, to go join the hospital fight. Rattled gunfire and wailing sirens tell of their struggle, but you have no way of knowing if the tide of battle favors the living or the dead.
With the quarantine abandoned, and thus effectively lifted, the streets empty out. Any living persons are long gone, and there’s the occasional wandering ghoul, but if you stay quiet, they move along. All that noise from the hospital appears to interest them more.
As the sun wanes, you prepare for departure. Eat a snack, drink plenty of water, but you don’t take anything Sam offers. No armor or shield, nothing to weigh you down. Home can’t be more than an hour away on foot, even if you do encounter undead on the way.
“Guess that’s it,” you say. “I’ll come back in the morning with my mom.”
“Goodbye, Ty,” Lily says.
“See you later,” you correct.
“Motherfucker,” Sam says.
You turn and see he’s got his eye in the rifle’s scope, looking down the street—looking the direction you’re headed.
It doesn’t take long to see what’s got his attention. Without the normal daily commuters, the street is all but silent, so you can hear the approaching convoy even from several miles away. Engines roar and radios blare as the Humvees approach.
“Reinforcements, no doubt,” Sam says after he lowers the r
ifle.
The street around the store fills with ghouls attracted by the noise. Where did they even come from? One crawls out from the sewer drainage ditch, a trio come from the alley, and more come from every recess in the city block.
Moaning. You thought it was your imagination, or maybe just an echo of the engines, but no, it’s a chorus of the damned.
The convoy makes it to your block now, headed for the hospital. One of the gunners standing behind a massive machine gun opens fire into the growing crowd of dead, which brings more from the recesses. A car window shatters and a once-dead thing crawls out.
“Cut it out!” Sam shouts. He frantically slashes at his throat in the “kill” sign.
The gunner, a shirtless man, brings the machine gun around towards the store—with enormous artillery rounds ripping the street to shreds—and Sam raises his rifle. As soon as Sam fires, a dozen other soldiers open fire on the hardware store. Instinctively, you step in front of Lily, then fall into one of the garden boxes and fertilize the crop with your life blood.
THE END
Get to the Choppa!
The helicopter’s blades spin in a blur, and you get the feeling they were about to take off when the pilot saw you jogging towards the helipad. As soon as you climb aboard, an Airman in the back points out your seat and the chopper takes off.
The Airman, whose nametag reads Belliveau, hands you a headset and says, “Welcome, Sergeant. ETA to the St. Mary’s LZ is ten Mike.”
“What’s the mission?” you call out after switching your gasmask for a headset.
The man cocks his head, as if confused, but answers, “Extraction. This is a one-way ticket; weren’t you told?”
PATHOGENS: Who Will Survive the Zombie Apocalypse? (Click Your Poison Book 4) Page 15