Anno Zombus Year 1 (Book 3): March

Anno Zombus:

Year 1;

March

For Alex and Rhiannon, for the usual reasons...

March 1
Year 1 A.Z.

morning

Sleep was troublesome last night.  The Colonel's portents of war echoed through my brain, dashing to smithereens all hope of a peaceful nights rest.  Still, I lay there, in the dark, Apocalypse Girl only a few feet away, breathing quietly, not quite snoring.  I knew why she could sleep and I found it impossible, she was not responsible for putting a bullet into the head of The Son, the only surviving son of the leader of a group lying just outside of Melbourne, calling themselves The Family.  The Mother hadn't declared war, exactly, but she had told us that she wanted her Farm back, which we had annexed as a staging point for forays into the city, and now had a small army encircling the place.

I choked down a breakfast I hardly tasted, then marched into the main computer lab of The Think Tank as though marching to the guillotine.  The main screen, across the back wall, showed the thermal images of our five Farmers, lined up side by side, a large group of Family members in front of them.  Between, strode a figure that could only be The Mother, as she passed sentence on those before her.  The Colonel, who had been in here most of the night with Firecracker and The Smart Couple trying to plan for the coming war, asked if we could get a closer look.  Smart Guy nodded, and zoomed in, switching from thermal to visual.

The Mother paced back and forth between our people and her own, hers having clearly disarmed ours without much of a fight, jabbering and ranting, pointing at them, then in the direction of Melbourne, then at them, then vaguely in the general direction of The Think Tank.  After a minute of this, she stepped out of the way.  Five of her guards stepped forward, one for each of our people.  They each held a shotgun to the head of one of The Farmers, and in unison, they fired.  I had to run from the room to throw up.  Five people dead, because of me.  Six, counting The Son.

noon

If not for Apocalypse Girl I might have been in the gun range all fucking day.  Somehow, shooting shit made me feel better about the situation, even though shooting shit had gotten us into this predicament in the first place.  In she came, waiting patiently for me to empty my clip before telling me that lunch was ready.  In response I just reloaded, and began firing into the next target.  She waited for the clip to empty once more, then punched me full in the face with a left hook.

About an hour later, my broken nose restored as best as Doctor could manage, Apocalypse Girl and I sat, eating together.  Our lunch, by this time, was cold, but neither of us particularly cared at this point.  I barely registered tasting anything, but by the time Apocalypse Girl dragged me topside for some “proper target practice” my plate was empty, so I assume I ate it all.

The exiled newcomers looked on us with a small amount of suspicion, as we were well known among those who had stayed behind, yet unknown to most of them, but we ignored them, heading instead to the snow-covered helipad where The Twin awaited with a spare pair of rifles while they huddled around a flaming barrel.  None of us spoke, none of us needed to, we just sat up there, pegging away at the Dead until the perpetual gloom darkened to the point of zero visibility.

evening

“It wasn't your fault, you know,”  Archer greeted us as we came back below.  “The way I heard it, it sounded like a case of shit happens,”  He had shaved off his beard, but retained his trademark grey ponytail.  The Twin asked him where he had been all day, and he replied by smiling and saying that there was a
lot
more to this place than we might suspect.  Clearly he'd been scouting downstairs.  I asked him what he had discovered.  He told me that he wasn't sure, he didn't know much about any of that kind of stuff.  Doctor or The Smart Couple might be able to figure it out, he told us, but he had no fucking idea at all.

I went by the medical wing to visit Junior, Sister sitting vigilantly by his side, holding his right hand, his only hand, firmly.  His other arm was missing below the elbow.  I had caused that as well.  He sat up, smiling at me wryly.  I remember he made some joke about how he never thought he would ever lose a limb to frostbite, but better that than the Dead, right?  Amazingly, if anyone, he blamed himself, rather than me, for his condition.  He had been the one, he said, that had insisted upon going to Melbourne to rescue Sister, and losing his arm had been a small price to pay in exchange for her life.  Besides, he joked, maybe he could talk Archer into rigging up some Dead-slaughtering device for his stump.

After medical, I went next to the kitchens.  There were now so many of us here that at least the first floor kitchens had designated meal times, but if anybody needed food outside of these times, they had to get it themselves.  I haphazardly constructed a sandwich and munched on it, walking in the direction of the computer labs.

In the main lab, Firecracker and The Colonel sat, silently watching the wall-screen as The Mother and her Family fortified her Farm.  Our people's bodies were not evident, so I assumed they had been disposed of, and was about to silently leave, having finished my food, when I noticed what looked to be a slow moving smudge coming from Melbourne.  I mentioned it, and Smart Guy suggested that it was probably nothing more than a speck of space-crap on the lens of the satellites camera.

Smart Girl, however, moved the camera slightly.  The moving smudge was no longer there.  Due to the angle of the satellites orbits we were unable to get a clearer picture, and having focussed on The Farm as we had been, it was impossible to recapture the exact image.  The Colonel dismissed it as unimportant, whatever it was, and went back to planning the defence with Firecracker.

March 2
Year 1 A.Z.

morning

Watching the satellite view, after a breakfast that was beginning to taste less like pancakes, and more like ash, we saw the rest of The Family moving into The Farm, while their advance scouts began flitting around the main group, which advanced slowly in our direction.  Several of said scouts were fated to never return, as we watched one in particular discover a small group of Dead, but more than large enough to tear him limb from limb in the most bloody fashion.  Though we watched from high above, I could hear him screaming inside my brain.  Apocalypse Girl's hand found my own, squeezing it comfortingly.  I didn't feel as though I deserved any such sympathy, but I accepted it gratefully with a return squeeze.

As we exited the computer labs, Archer grabbed me and took me aside.  He asked me, since there was at least a few more days before either of us would be needed to defend The Think Tank, if I wanted to go on a scouting run with him.  I asked where, exactly, and he simply pointed downwards.  There were levels to this facility, he said, that he didn't want to explore in too much depth alone, but with a group of four or five we could easily spend the next couple of days losing ourselves in exploration.  I shrugged, not really feeling up to it, but Apocalypse Girl said that it sounded like a fine idea, and that we were in.  Archer nodded, and after agreeing on a time and place to meet, went off to grab some supplies.

noon

Archer awaited us at the elevator downwards.  It was at the other end of The Think Tank's upper floor from the entrance lift and was, Archer told us, an express elevator to what he referred to as a secure area.  He handed Apocalypse Girl and I a .45 each, two spare clips, and asked after my sword.  I told him that I thought, since we were exploring a secure area of a secure facility we shouldn't need weapons, should we?  Archer chuckled at that, saying nothing.  Just then The Twin and Redbeard rounded the corner, former armed with her trusted compound bow, the latter with his signature twin .45s.  Seeing my back bare of blade, the big, bushy, bearded brute berated me under his breath.  Just as I was about to head back to grab it, embarrassed, Doctor ran down the hallway, shouting at us to wait.

The diminutive Japanese fellow held aloft my katana, bowing as he presented it to me.  He apologised for entering my rooms uninvited, but felt I needed my sword, as any warrior would.  I will admit to feeling a little naked without it, but I honestly didn't think any weapons would be needed for this foray into the lower levels.  I thanked Doctor for the blade as I took it from him, bowing with respect.  This made him beam, then he handed Apocalypse Girl a fully stocked first aid kit.  Following my example, she bowed to him with an “Arigato, Doctor-sama” which made him flush.

Archer opened the door, and we entered the elevator.  I noticed that it had only one button, and pointed it out to Archer.  He replied that he had already scouted the first floor of The Depths, as he referred to it, and though there was power, it was very dark down there.  The lone button was because this elevator went from the first floor of The Think Tank, all the way down to the first floor of The Depths, which Archer estimated at maybe thirty floors down.  The elevator ride was going to be a long one, it seemed.  Archer continued by warning us that should we go further into The Depths, there are stairs down.  Today, however, we should stick to the top floor, he told us.

late afternoon

At long last, the lift landed and we left.  Archer was right, it was dark down here nearly pitch black.  There was light enough to see by, after a few minutes for some ocular adjustment, though I have had to borrow the light from Apocalypse Girl's phone in order to write this journal entry.  There was a long hallway leading away from the lift itself, which we followed to an intersection.  Archer suggested that we stay together, and always stick to the same direction if we need to turn.  We chose to go left, and down an ill-lit hallway we wandered.  There were rooms off the hall itself, which we investigated thoroughly, most of which appeared to be offices with desks, computers, even filing cabinets.  The cabinets were bare, for the most part, apart from one which contained a single, solitary piece of paper that looked as if it could be part of the blueprints of a missile.  Archer placed the sheet inside his pack, carefully folded, and we moved on.

Redbeard was making a kind of map, he had acquired some graph paper somewhere upstairs, when Apocalypse Girl questioned him on it, he admitted to occasional late-night gaming sessions with The Smart Couple and Doctor and Nurse.  The graph paper was needed to draw up maps of dungeons for their heroes to explore, and when Archer asked him to join the expedition figured it could come in handy.

evening

We came to what looked like a recreational area, in time, though all that remained was a single deflated football gathering dust in a corner.  There was plenty of room, however, and we sat around in a circle on the floor to eat.

“I wonder what this place was made for?”  Apocalypse Girl asked.  Archer told her that he had heard stories when he was still in the military of secret facilities that had been dug all across the country, designed for secret projects, black operations, that sort of thing.  Maybe this was one of those places, he suggested.  The blueprints discovered earlier certainly lent credence to this theory.  The Twin ventured an opinion that those who had built this place had left a long time ago.

Redbeard yawned that we would probably find out more tomorrow, unrolling his sleeping bag and climbing inside.  His bulk left no room for anything else, and looked like a bearded caterpillar cocoon with a zip-up front.  The Twin and Archer followed his example, leaving Apocalypse Girl and myself awake.  We spread out our bags, climbing inside.  Apocalypse Girl wiggled herself closer to me, in order to leech my warmth, and said “I don't think I like this place.”

March 3
Year 1 A.Z.

morning

Redbeard's boot in my ribs awoke me, as he fell over me.  He swore loudly, waking everybody else up, and then apologised.  He had been too busy looking on his map for the nearest restroom we had discovered to watch where he was walking and hadn't wanted to use a torch in case he woke one of us.  Bastard!  After disturbing everybody he bolted from the room, in part due to embarrassment, but mostly an overly full bladder.  The rest of us followed suit in rapid succession, grateful that the plumbing still worked down here, and then we sat around to devour breakfast, after which we continued our exploration.

Our eyes had become more accustomed to the darkness by now, and we could see quite clearly our bootprints in the dust by now.  We went everywhere our bootprints were not, finding pretty much more of the same everywhere.  Nothing but dust, in other words.  We found the stairs to the next level down easily enough, as we were able to see our own bootprints without extra light, we could easily see the tracks Archer had left behind on his solo sojourn with the aid of a torch.  He had gone down a few steps, then turned back.  This time, however, he went past his footsteps without a second thought, and we followed.