Colony Z: The Complete Collection (Vols. 1-4) (6 page)

It was the first time in his life James had ever been given a task he was confident doing. With his bag slung over his shoulder, James sent a quick prayer up to the heavens.
He was going to need all the help he could find for what he was about to attempt. Feeling his way along the walls, he found the door that opened to the stairway that led to the roof of the school.

             

He heard the heavy breathing before the turned the knob. Without hesitation, James pulled his handgun out of its holster and shot into the dark. Immediately thankful that he had gotten dressed before traveling into the hallway to greet Owen, weapons and all, James went toward the sound of the haggard breathing and gave it one more shot.

             

If that didn’t wake the inhabitants of the building up, he didn’t know what would.

             

James turned, opened the door, and climbed the stairs. The padlock to the roof was locked, but that didn’t stop James from smashing his elbow into the rotting wood and watching it slam open. He had no protection from anything that decided to come up but, at this point, James didn’t much care.

             

It became immediately apparent when James reached the highest vantage point exactly how the zombies had gotten through. They had made the discovery that explosives were the most beautiful, useful thing on the planet. But it must have been an awfully large member of the dead that set it off while the others hid far away.

             

Strictly speaking, there were only two elements zombies could not handle. Large bodies of water and fire. They couldn’t swim and they couldn’t deal with heat and flames. Both water and fire sped up the cycle of their decay.

             

After the Zero Hour, the most common misconception people made with zombies was the idea that they were immortal. These were not the risen dead, though they may have been referred to as that because of their appearance. No, this was more of an infection than anything else. The virus took a human being, turned its brain to mush, began the decaying process, and took the being back to its original, most base instincts: eat and kill.

             

If you were bitten, or exposed to infected blood for too long, you were apt to get the virus, though there were a very few lucky people who seemed to be immune. Owen had killed hundreds of the things, had been exposed to blood and all, but still had not become infected. Of course, that may have been because of his dangerously strong will to live.

             

James might not be so lucky. But he was going to slaughter them anyway.

             

Pulling his bag back over his shoulder, James reached inside and found what he was looking for. Taking the explosive in his hand, James took a lighter, lit the fuse, turned to the army of the dead, and threw it as hard as he possibly could.

             

When the bomb went off, blood and limbs flew everywhere. Perhaps, when they passed through that arsenal all that time ago, James had taken bombs slightly larger than he intended. But after the bomb, the problem was definitely smaller than it had been before. Or entirely non-existent. The dead that remained after the blast began to retreat.

             

The nice thing about an army with no leader was that the cowardice within them came out easily. One small setback could make them run for the hills. James considered tossing another bomb to the battlements below, just to finish the job, but he didn’t want to risk it hitting the building or hurting anyone inside. He had no idea how far the radius was. He had promised himself when he stole the weapons that he would only use them in dire circumstances.

             

With the occasional zombie standing dazed here and there, the situation no longer seemed dire.

             

James had only been standing on the roof for several minutes, but he feared something had happened to Owen. There were creatures wandering inside the school, of that he was certain. And the darkness inside would make life a living hell for Owen.

             

The sun was beginning to rise in the East.

             

James knew his next move.

 

             

When the blast went off, Owen was still in the third of the six total rooms he needed to awaken. Each time, he gave the inhabitants of the room directions to the safe room, told them the password, and warned them to be safe.

             

He didn’t know what the
deafening blast was. He didn’t have time to care, in all honesty. He made as much noise as possible from room to room, hoping to awaken the others before he reached them. Unfortunately, he had not trained his companions to be light sleepers like himself. They slept on and Owen had to physically wake each and every one of them up.

             

When the final sleepers were awoken and sent downstairs, Owen breathed a sigh of relief.  They were all safe. Finally safe.

             

Owen left the hallway and made his way down the stairs once more. The sun had begun to rise. The light shined throughout the large commons area that led into the cafeteria. And the rays from the brightness touched the heads of not one, not several, but a dozen creeping figures.

             

He would never make it to the safe room alive. Despite the amount of creatures he had murdered in past years, it would be next to nearly impossible to take on this many at one time, completely by himself. He reached for his gun, but he knew it would attract attention that he hadn’t yet received. They didn’t know he was there.

             

Not yet anyway.

             

Was there another way down? He thought frantically. No, nothing.. The only other staircase was blocked by the monsters.

             

He was utterly screwed.

 

             

James stood at the top of the staircase
, staring at Owen on the opposite side of the commons. The foot of both stairs were blocked by roaming zombies. Neither of them had enough bullets to take out all twelve, but between the two of them, they may have been able to shoot one bullet into each.

             

The idea of an explosive crossed his mind. But he would  not risk it. The chance of breaking down the school and killing everyone within it was much too risky, even for James.

             

But a decision had to be made. Owen seemed to be giving up. He had two children to go back to, and James would be a hero if he was credited with bringing him back. He didn’t know what good being a hero was when there were only thirty-five people left on Earth, but it had to be good for something.

             

And, at least partially, he really was a good person, or so he liked to think.

             

“Owen!” He yelled. His voice echoed across the room and every member of the army of the dead turned their decaying heads to see him.

             

James lifted his gun and pointed to it, then pointed it at the nearest zombie and fired a shot right through its skull. Owen smiled for the first time that night, lifted his own gun, and began shooting. A sort of companionship came over the two men during these few moments. Owen took a rare pleasure in his kills, and James was just having a good time.

             

Sometimes, Owen thought James had been born for the Zero-Hour.

             

Before long, all but one zombie lay slain on the tile floor. In a moment of pure passion, both men descended their stairs and met at the remaining, confused creature. This one was much larger than any of the others, almost seven feet tall. The thing was huge, blunt, and a little more terrifying up close than it had seemed from the top of a flight of stairs. But the men did not stop.

             

Owen felt a pang of almost sympathy for this one. It did not look menacing. It did not look at either of the approaching men at all. It seemed to have forgotten its hunger. It stared at one of the murdered zombies on the floor with a look on its destroyed face almost akin to grief.

             

James looked at Owen in confusion. Owen did not move to harm the thing. James pulled the knife out of the sheath that he kept attached to his back pocket and slashed the monster through the throat. It staggered. James gave it a stab through the heart.

             

Lennie looked at Owen with a completely human look of horror and betrayal before falling to the floor. Dead.

             

James pulled his knife out of the thing’s chest, cleaned it on his shirt, and stuffed  it back into its cover. Owen continued to stare at the zombie.

             

“Owen,” James said, trying to wake the man up from his trance. “Owen, your family.”

             

Owen snapped back at the mention of his wife and children. The two men made their way back to the safe room, where everyone sat waiting for further directions from their leader.

             

But Owen never did quite forgive James for his blindness at the creature’s pain. There was always something off between them after that. It didn’t matter much to the rest of the Albion Tribe. For that night, James was a hero. That, at least, was something that everyone was sure of.

 

             

As the group packed
their things and prepared for their departure, Hannah and Owen had one of their more heated arguments. While she was glad he was alive, she knew there was more to the situation than he was letting on.

             

“They’ve figured out how to use explosives, Owen.”

             

“That’s why we’re leaving.”

             

“And you think that’s going to stop them? You think that’s going to keep them from throwing more bombs at us while we sleep? Do you even have any answers for this?”

             

“Who the hell am I, Iron Man? I can’t fix this. I can’t dismember the bombs, only the holders. They will follow us, and they will bomb us if they can. We have to hope they don’t have it in them.”

             

“Then why not stay here, where we have a place to go when they attack?”

             

“Because, damn it, one day they’re going to burn this place to the ground!” Owen looked at his wife fiercely. Her face was shocked, even hurt. The night before they had almost lost one another and now, here they were, fighting again.

             

But it seemed that they had already had this conversation hundreds of times since the morning. It was too soon to force the children to leave. It would confuse them.

             

“They should be confused. They’re living in hell.” Owen said matter-of-factly.

             

“They shouldn’t know that. They should have a chance at stability.”

             

“But this wasn’t stability. This was a barrier from reality.”

             

“Then where do you propose we go to keep them away from us, Owen?”

             

“An island.”

             

“…what?”

             

“Haven’t you ever thought about it? Hasn’t it ever crossed your mind that, on an island, we’d be safe? They couldn’t swim to us, they couldn’t attack us. We’d be safe. An island that’s never been inhabited before. An island that hasn’t be infected.”

             

Hannah was quiet for a very long time as they continued to pack their things. The children were with Eric who, after the night before, knew the two in charge of the tribe would need their time to discuss the group’s next move. The room stayed silent.

             

What was she supposed to say? It seemed Owen had made up his mind.

             

“…how would we get supplies? How would we survive?”

             

“Damnit, woman, how will we survive at all?” Owen rounded on her. “I don’t have the answers! I might be the leader of this group, but don’t you think if I knew how stop the virus I would have done it years ago?”

             

“…Owen, we both know you would have.”

             

It seemed that an electric current had passed through the two. Words had been said that meant more to them than met the eye. An argument about home and raising children had been made a personal issue.

             

“…Owen, I want you to stop blaming yourself.”

             

Hannah tried to reach for Owen’s hand, but he pulled it away, almost violently.

             

“You don’t understand.”

             

“I was
there
, Owen.”

             

Owen turned to Hannah and looked at her, his eyes shining with water but also with a sort of finality that took her by surprise.

             

“You weren’t the one who broke the lock.”

             

“…Did it ever occur to you that, if you hadn’t broken that lock, we wouldn’t be here?”

             

“Isn’t that the point?”

             

“…We were falling apart, Owen. You and I. Would you have let that happen?”

             

“To avoid this?…You can’t expect me to say I wouldn’t, Hannah. I would rather have been alone.”

             

Hannah nodded, biting her lip. A single tear fell from her eye.

 

“You can be the one to tell that to our children.”

             

She tried to leave then, but Owen wouldn’t let her play him like that. He grabbed her arm and pulled her back to him.

             

“Don’t play this game with me, Hannah. You know I put my family before everything else in the world.”

             

“You would rather your life be easy.”

             

“I would rather not have to worry about watching my children die every single day of my life!”

             

Hannah was silent. Owen pulled her face close to his.

             

“You can’t tell me you would have wanted this. Because I know it’s a god damn lie.”

             

He had nothing left to say. He let her go, but it was more of a push than he intended. She landed on their makeshift bed. He stalked out of the room. He did not apologize. He had given everything for his family. And the only way to protect them now was to get them across the sparkling waters to a place where they could live in peace.

             

An island.

 

             

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