The Adventures of Steve and Terry: The Zombie Chronicles (10 page)

“And they have weapons,” Sean
said.

The group was immediately on their
feet. Sean led the way, since his scatter-gun could cover them a lot better. He
checked to make sure it was clear, and then they skulked out into the street.
The sounds of fighting had ended, but they had to be close by. They rounded a
corner and found the dead that had been trailing them, all put down for good.

Sean and Jake took up guard
positions while Mike inspected the bodies. “Some of these look like a machete’s
work,” the man said, kicking a severed head. “But this, it’s obviously not a
bullet, but whatever it is I don’t know.”

“The question remains,” Sean said.
“Who did the killing?”

“Demons,” a raspy voice said. All
three men tensed, looking for the person who owned the voice. An old bearded
man stepped out from a burned out building. “The two demons were here.”

“Who are you, old man?” Mike
asked.

“My name is inconsequential. But I
am witness to the demons’ work.”

“What demons?” Sean asked.

“The painted warriors. With gun,
knife, and axe they kill the undead mercilessly.”

“Sounds like the kind of people we
want to work with,” Jake suggested.

“Beware,” the old man said
cryptically. “None join the demons and live. All who have done so in the past
have perished in horrible ways.”

“We’ll take our chances. Can you
point the direction these ‘demons’ went?” Sean asked.

The old man lifted a skeletal
finger, pointing off down a broad avenue.

“Let’s go,” Mike said, leading the
way.

The group moved cautiously,
keeping an eye out for not only these so called demons, but walkers as well.
They rounded a corner and came to a narrow side street. Dark, burned out
buildings lined both sides of the road and ruined shattered cars filled the
street. The group spread out and moved slowly.

Sean was hugging one of the walls,
his shotgun at the ready. He stepped over a pile of rubble and his foot slipped
into a loop of steel cable. He heard a click and slack line shot into the air.

“Oh shit!” he cried a second
before the snare pulled him into the air. His gun fell from his hands, so hard
was he jerked off his feet.

“What the hell?” Jake cried,
looking for a threat. A net suddenly fell from the second story window of a
building and tangled with the man, bearing him to the ground.

Mike spun back and forth between
the two, his gun leveled. Suddenly a high-pitched warbling battle-cry echoed
off the buildings, sounding almost like an Indian cry from an old western. A
bola flew from a darkened, burned out shop and wrapped around Mike’s legs. Mike
stumbled and fell, his gun falling from his hands as he smacked the asphalt
face first.

“What in the hell is going on?!”
Sean asked in shock, as he swung lazily back and forth.

Suddenly a balding slightly
overweight man stepped from the burned out shop. He was shirtless with blue
paint streaked across his torso and face. He carried an M4 assault rifle
resting on his shoulder and a bandolier of grenades across his chest. Sitting
in a belt was what looked like a tomahawk.

“Hey, Terry,” the man called.
“They’re not zombies.”

A second man appeared in the
second story window where the net had come from. He was slightly taller than
the other, but also overweight and balding. He too was shirtless and covered in
blue paint, though his consisted of intricate designs.

“Dammit,” Terry said angrily. “Who
the hell are they?”

“I don’t know,” the other said.
“Who the hell are you?”

“Survivors, like you,” Sean said.

“Not like us,” the man said.

“Who are you?”

“I’m Steve, that’s Terry. Who the
hell are you?”

“I’m Sean. That’s Jake and Mike.”

“Pleased to meet you,” Steve said
casually.

“You mind letting us go?” Mike
asked angrily.

Steve looked at him with cocked
head. “Hmm, yes.”

“What?!”

“We don’t know you. You all could
be some kinda weirdoes or something.”

“Says the man with the blue
war-paint.”

Everyone turned as Terry emerged
from the building he had been hiding in. He too carried an M4, as well as a
machete at his hip. “Let’s get going Steve.”

“Right,” Steve said with a nod.

“You guys just gonna leave us
here?!” Sean asked, shocked.

Steve and Terry started to leave,
but Steve stopped and pulled his tomahawk. He cut the counter weight and Sean
collapsed face first to the ground. He quickly got his leg free and moved to
Mike. By the time he got the bola cut, the two pudgy men had disappeared, like
phantoms—or demons.

“What in the hell just happened?”
Jake asked from under the net.

“Those guys were a few cards shy
of a full deck,” Mike said as he and Sean got the net off of Jake.

“Uh, you think?”

“Come on, let’s get going, we can
still get back to base by nightfall,” Sean said.

The group shrugged off their
encounter with the unbalanced “demons” and made their way back to their base
camp. They moved cautiously, knowing the dead were more active at night. They
were close to the office building basement they used as base when a group of
undead rushed from a side alley and ambushed them.

The group fired wildly. Sean
unloaded all five rounds of his shotgun. Both Jake and Mike unloaded their
pistols as well. More and more dead swarmed. The group reloaded on the fly,
running as fast as they could. Another zombie stumbled out of an empty parking
garage and collided with Jake. The man twisted away from the creature as he
fell, but his knee snapped like a twig. Jake screamed in pain as he hit the
ground. Sean spun and took the zombie’s head off with a quick shot. He rushed
to Jake, but the man could barely stand.

“We gotta find a place to hole
up,” Sean said to Mike as he helped support Jake.

“Just a liability,” Mike said.

“What?” Sean asked in shock.

“I’m not gonna let him slow me
down.” With that Mike turned and jogged off into the growing darkness.

“Asshole!” Sean yelled after him.

They heard the moan of the
pursuing undead. The two stumbled along, Jake trying to keep quiet even though
his leg was causing him excruciating pain. They wound their way through side
streets and small alleys. They emerged from one such alley and came face to
face with a lifted truck. To their shock the vehicle sat idling. Both looked at
each other, not sure what to make of it.

Sean helped Jake into the
passenger seat and then climbed into the driver’s seat. He looked around, but
saw no one nearby. Without a second thought he put the truck in gear and sped
off.

Steve and Terry emerged from a
nearby convenience store hauling a slurpee machine. Both stopped when they got
to the street and looked around, confused.

“Oh, you’ve got to be kidding me!”
Terry said angrily.

“Hey, it was
your
idea to
leave it running
this
time.”

“This is ridiculous! Twice in as
many days! Really?”

A zombie suddenly stumbled onto
the street. Steve dropped his end of the slurpee machine and pulled his
tomahawk. He quickly buried the blade in the zombie’s skull. As the creature
collapsed he looked at it curiously.

“Hey Terry, doesn’t this look
kinda like one of those guys we ran into?”

Terry walked over and looked down
at the zombie. He hadn’t been turned more than a few hours at most. From the
hair, he looked ex-military. “Yeah, it does.”

Both looked at each other and then
shrugged. They abandoned the slurpee machine and disappeared into the night.

Dave looked out into the dark
night. Before the plague of the undead, nighttime in the city was just a
different kind of light. The city was never truly dark, ever. But now it was as
dark as a tomb. He looked up through the window of the office building, where
his small group was seeking shelter, to the stars. They were so bright now. He
had never really seen them before; of course he had never really looked up
before.

Dave had been an investment banker
before the apocalypse, and he had been a damn good one. When the plague first
hit he had been at the office, watching riots in small towns in nowhere
America. As the plague had escalated he had gotten a gun, like everyone else, intent
on survival, and holed up in his pent house. When his building had been overrun
he had fled, leaving his neighbors to die. Late at night he could still hear
their screams.

Dave turned as someone put their
arm around his waist to see Jill. Jill was not someone he would have been
interested in before the epidemic. She was a working class girl, with short
dark hair and a hard, toned body. Dave had always been into blonds with soft
curves and giant, well, you get it. He looked over his shoulder to check on
Paul, a ten year old boy who was not biologically his. The apocalypse had a way
of bringing people together with nothing in common, except for having survived.

Dave had found Jill cornered by
three undead. He had been about to run on, leaving her to die, as he had so
many others. But just as he had started to go, they had made eye contact. He
couldn’t look away, and had done something, for no personal gain, for the first
time in his life. The two had gotten away, just two more refugees in a city of
undead. They had found Paul almost two weeks later, wandering the streets
alone. He didn’t say a word when they saved him, and to date still hadn’t said
even one. They didn’t even know his name, but Jill liked Paul, and the boy
responded to it. So here they were, one effed up little post-apocalyptic
family.

They had been on the move for days
now. Their small base had been overrun and they had barely escaped with their
lives, but not much else. Dave had gotten his gun, but less than fifty rounds
of ammo. They had no food, not water, and only the clothes on their backs. Food
and water didn’t concern Dave so much as the ammo situation. He had decided to
take it one day at a time, and not plan on a long, safe life. His only concern
at this point was getting Jill and Paul to safety.

Dave and Jill didn’t say anything,
just stood arm in arm looking out at the dark city. Both jumped as an explosion
suddenly rocked the night. A gout of flame lit up a nearby street. In the light
of the blast they could see two figures hacking at the undead with some sort of
cold weapons. The fire blast soon faded, but they saw quick flashes as the two
men fired guns into a horde of undead.

“Do you think they’re gonna make
it?” Jill asked.

“Doubtful,” Dave answered
honestly. Jill blew out a frustrated breath. “What?” Dave asked.

“For once could you just . . .”

“Just what?”

“Lie to me,” Jill said, putting
her head on his shoulder.

Dave turned and pulled her into
his arms. “I’m sorry. This whole thing has turned me into a bit of an asshole.”

Jill laughed sadly into his chest.
“You think?”

“We should get some sleep.”

Another explosion lit up the
night, the same two figures illuminated again. “If we can,” Jill said.

The next morning they were all up
with the sun. They cautiously made their way back down to the street. As they
skulked through the streets they came to scattered dead with burn marks
covering their bodies. The street had craters in it and shrapnel marks covered
the walls of the buildings.

“Hey,” Jill said. “Isn’t this where
we were seeing those explosions last night?”

“I think so.”

“I don’t see any bodies. Maybe
they made it.”

Dave thought it more likely the
men were killed, and now were wandering the city as undead themselves. But he
didn’t tell Jill that. “Yeah, maybe,” he said.

They continued on, but Paul
suddenly stopped. The boy was like a hunting hound when it came to sensing
zombies. He had almost a sixth sense about it. Both Jill and Dave started to
look around, Dave chambering a round in his gun. Suddenly a walker rounded a
corner. Without thinking Dave shot the thing. It took three shots to finally hit
it in the head. Almost immediately they heard moans of the undead, sounding
like they were coming from everywhere.

“Shit!” Dave swore. “Let’s go!” He
grabbed Jill’s hand, who in turn grabbed Paul’s.

They fled through the streets, but
Dave was unfamiliar with this part of the city. They seemed to be wandering,
changing direction every time they encountered walkers. Finally, they fled into
an apartment building. They didn’t stop in any of the apartments, having
learned early that many times they housed zombies and were more death traps
than sanctuary. They ran all the way to the roof, bursting through the door and
out into the open. Dave immediately looked for a way to bar the door. He found
some racks, looking like someone at one time had a garden on the roof. He moved
these with some effort to block the door.