Authors: Jeremy Laszlo
I wake up in a cold sweat, panic pounding through my thumping heart. I’m not sure if I’ve been screaming or if they’ve heard me below. I look across the room at the warm glow of fire against the curtains, penetrating through the darkness. Listening to the hotel, I wait to hear if there’s anyone inside the building. Maybe they heard me and they’re already infiltrating my hideout, moving up floor by floor, silent as demons. Slowly, I push myself up and sneak over to the window. Hooking the curtain with my bladed stump, I slowly draw it back and glance out at the world below. I’m still alive. I’m still here and they’re still out there.
They are filled with fire. There are bonfires all throughout and around the encampment. At the entrance of every intersection and alleyway, two bonfires blaze, illuminating the darkness for the watchmen in the towers. Inside the encampment, their streets are lined with torches and at every communal kitchen and meeting area, there are more fires burning in oil drums and trash cans. There’s even dumpsters on fire at the heart of the encampment where the enormous pavilion rests and the giant crosses loom over everything. There are patrols still out, but they wander rather than march. None of them care. None of them want to be there.
I look one last time at the pack on the bed and try to remember if there’s anything that I need. I’m sure that there are patrols out in the city, but I doubt that I’ll run into any of them. I know how to sneak. There’s nothing to fear out there that doesn’t have a torch to give itself away with first. I leave my pack behind, well aware that what I’m about to do is going to require finesse and speed. A pack is only going to slow me down. As I close the room door behind me, I listen to the darkness beyond me for signs that there is something inside the building. I am alone and I slowly let out a sigh before clicking on my flashlight.
I look at the skyscraper without a drop of empathy. They’re inside, pounding the thick, plate glass with their pale, gnarled fingers. Their broken teeth, missing teeth, horrid mouths stretched wide, shrieking silently at me. I can’t hear them. I don’t want to. They look at me with hollow, emotionless eyes. No, that’s not true. There’s only one emotion. Hunger. I look back at them with the same emotionless look in my eyes. It’s cold and dark and another storm is passing overhead. It’s only a drizzle, but I’ve been out enough that I’m soaked. I look at the lobby and wonder how hard it will be to do what needs to be done.
The whole world feels dead. I feel like whatever the opposite of a ghost is. Something wrong, out of place, and haunted. I’m the last living thing in a dead, hellish world. I understand now. If ghosts ever were real, I get it. I understand the madness, the need to make myself known. I turn from the skyscraper and head down the street. Since it’s raining, I’m afraid that there might be patrols hiding out in houses. They might have been run indoors, keeping their vigils from under the warmth of the rooftops. I’m afraid of stumbling upon them. Wandering from street to street has its major disadvantages now. I keep my eyes open and head several blocks until I find what I’m looking for.
The windows are boarded up, but the doors are simply locked. It’s the indicator that there are Zombies inside. I can hear them as I approach, almost as if they can sense me. I don’t know how that would be possible, but there they are. I walk toward the apartment buildings and take a deep breath. These are apartments that look like they might have been nice, higher end apartments. They look like the kind of apartments single bachelors and bachelorettes would live in before making the transition to studio apartment. Their faux rock face exterior and dark paint made them look chic over a year ago, but now, they just look like one of the many, many forgotten buildings in this world.
I approach the door of the complex and look through the smeared, stained glass at the silhouettes inside. I see them in there, shambling around shuffling and searching. They’re always searching. I approach the doors and I can hear the pounding of their hands on the thick glass of the lobby. I can’t see their details or count them. It’s too dark inside. All I see is the swirling shadow and their looming presence. Everything inside of me is screaming for me to run the other direction, to flee and never look back. But I can’t. I have only this at my disposal. Without them, there is no hope. There is no way of avenging Lindsay. I take a deep breath and approach the doors that are locked from the inside.
Reaching out, I place a wet hand on the pane, listening to the sniffing and snarling within. Smearing the muck and the dust, I clear a single visible area from the door and see the faces within. Emaciated, gaunt, hungry. They all look out at me, feral and untamed. They want me for my flesh, for my blood. I rub my hand across another part of the glass and see that there are still too many of them inside for me to count. They move too much and it is too dark inside. I can hear them though, the loud thumping and banging. The first shriek sends chills running down my spine as I think of Lindsay and the first time she saved me. I have to do this. I have to avenge her. She was my friend when there was nothing left to believe in in this world, she was all I had and they took her from me. I have to remind the world that justice is still alive.
I reach down into the dead landscaping and pull out one of the large rocks from the mud and heave it over my shoulder before hurling it with all my strength at the window. The rock does nothing it at first, there’s a loud bang and the window fractures into a spider web of white lines all across the pane. Something on the inside of the lobby bangs against the door and I look for another rock to hurl at it. Pulling it up out of the muck, I heave the second missile with all my strength. Again there is a loud bang and this time, the rock vanishes with a loud clatter and crashes to the floor on the other side of the door. Instantly, there is a face in the hole of the door’s window, clawing at the glass shards recklessly. I approach the door and look at the snapping face. I need time, but not much.
As I thrust my bladed stump into the creature’s face, there is a loud hiss and suddenly the feeding frenzy begins. On the other side of the tarnished door, they’re ripping apart the dead Zombie and feeding on him. I turn my back on the sight and rush up the street toward another apartment building whose windows have all been boarded up as well. Finding a piece of concrete, I hurl it at the plate glass door and watch the window barely fracture. Angrily, I search the muddy landscape for a rock large enough to do any damage. When I finally get ahold of one and pry it up from the muddy ground, I can hear movement behind me. They’re getting out. Grabbing the rock and balancing it with my one good hand, I pull back and hurl it, shattering the entire door with the throw. A cascade of a hundred thousand tiny pieces of glass floods across the walkway and I immediately turn and run back up the street. I have a head start, but I don’t stop to look back. I need to find the skyscraper.
By the time I make it back to the skyscraper, there are easily a hundred Zombies roaming the streets behind me, probably more. They’re searching the buildings, prying off boards and shattering windows. They’re starving, feral, and mad as hell. I like it. The only thing that I can find to help me shatter the window of the skyscraper is the junk I can salvage from cars. I find a tire iron and immediately go to work on the door. There have to be hundreds locked inside this building and all of them are crammed down into the foyer, pounding their palms and fists on the plate glass entrance. The first few swings do nothing for me as the metal reverberates in my hand painfully. I look up the street where the Zombies are starting to take notice of the sounds I’m making. I need to hurry. I swing the tire iron again and this time, half a dozen little tiny shards of glass tinkle across the steps I’m on as the end of the bar plunges through the glass. Ripping it free, I swing again, this time I cave in a larger chunk of glass and the putrid stench from inside billows out. It’s strong enough to make me want to vomit.
Suddenly, fingers are prying at the small hole and blood trickles down the exterior of the glass plating. They rip at the glass, tugging and pulling while another feeding frenzy commences. I take a few steps back and look up the street. They’re several blocks away and it’s beginning to rain harder. They’re not going to hear me coming, if I’m lucky. Casting one last glance back at the skyscraper, I see that the creatures are making progress. They’re going to be pouring out of there soon. It’s time to go.
The trick is staying visible enough for the Zombies to follow. I draw my machete and bang on the hood of every car I see, watching the Zombies picking up their pace as they’re coming toward me. Some of them have broken into another building and have successfully liberated more of their wicked kind. My army is growing. Heading back toward the encampment, I wait for a second, watching to see if more are following. But by the time I look back, there are dozens pouring down the steps of the skyscraper, rushing into the street, shrieking and roaring. I bang my machete against a light post and draw their attention. They look at me with their savage eyes and pursue, running as fast as they can. I turn and do the same.
The bonfires at the entrance of the street are dying, getting lower and lower thanks to the rain. I run toward their light, hoping that I can make it to the hotel before any of the creatures spot me. But it isn’t the creatures that I should have been worrying about. At the bonfires is one of the patrols of fanatics, they’re trying to spur the fires into brighter, hotter blazes with more wood. I’m not even stopping, not even slowing for them. They can hear my footsteps and as they look up, trying to make out the shapes in the gloom just beyond the illuminated wall of light, I charge into view.
“The murderer!” one of them shouts as I head for the alley. I’m maybe fifty yards from it, but they’ve spotted me. Thankfully, I’m not alone. “To arms!” the shouting man suddenly shrieks as he sees what’s following me.
I hear the horn blast and suddenly the air is full of noise. The Zombies almost immediately pick up the pace at that very moment when my own energy begins to fail. Several of them rush past me, running with all their strength toward the patrol. As for the zealots, they’re drawing their axes and lowering their spears while the others get out their swords crafted out of beaten metal. Screams fill the air. These men are soft, they’re afraid. For all their love of the Zombies, they certainly are terrified of them. They scream and stare in dumbfound confusion as they’re immediately overrun. The barrels with the bonfires are knocked over, sending blazing logs across the street as hundreds of horns answer the first blast.
Rounding the corner, I make my way for the door in the alley, slamming my shoulder hard into it and flinging it open as far as it is willing to budge for me. Squeezing through, I immediately clamber through the darkness until I grab ahold of the chairs and stuff them into their positions again. Breathing heavily, I can hear footsteps in the alley beyond, but nothing is trying for the door. No one saw me enter here. I take a step backwards, fumbling for my flashlight, all I can hear beyond the walls of the building are the screams that reverberate through the walls. Clicking the flashlight on, I quickly make my way through the building, hurrying toward the foyer where I can see through the smeared windows where the army of Zombies are rushing through down the street toward the encampment. I take the steps two at a time as I rush up toward my room. I can hear gunshots. Who are the murderers now?
At the top floor, I rush to my room, throw open the door and immediately close it, locking it tightly and hurrying toward the window to see what’s happening below. I can hear the mayhem and the death. There’s nothing but bloody screams and the sounds of shrieking Zombies all euphoric and lustful for their meals. Throwing back the curtains without a moment of hesitation, I look down below at the streets that are full of fire and bodies. The Zombies encountered two more patrols rushing to the aid of the first, which is now being ripped apart by a hundred different Zombies. The reinforcements never stood a chance. Some of the bastards had even thrown down their weapons, opening their arms as if to embrace the creatures or at least trying to reason with them. I reach for my binoculars—Lindsay’s binoculars.
“This is how it has to be,” I can almost hear her saying.
The walls stand no chance against the oncoming tide of Zombies. They slam against the cars at full speed, banging into them and climbing up the axels and tires, reaching the top and shrieking in delight to discover what’s on the other side, just waiting for them. I watch as some of them take to the watchtowers, climbing up to the trapped denizens within. They blast their horns and scream in horror as the Zombies approach. The wave of Zombies begins to disperse, heading for the entrances, making their way up and down the street, trying to find open spots to get to the food waiting within. Scanning the encampment, I see hundreds of half-naked men emerging from their tents with knives and bludgeons in their hands, looking for whatever is causing all the commotion. Many of them still have no idea what’s happening to them.
As they launch from the top of the wall, the Zombies land amidst the tents, sometimes square in the center of them. While the sleepy and confused warriors emerge, stumbling and meandering toward the entrances of the encampment to see what’s happening, death is already among them. Bonfires are tipped over and whole tents are beginning to burn. To the Zombies, they’ve just stumbled into an all you can eat buffet. I look to my left, trying to see the entrance to the street where the Zombies are still pouring out of. There has to be close to a thousand of them. They must be opening up more houses, more buildings, in search of others to eat. They’re only finding one another. Part of me is happy by this, but deep down inside of me, I know that it is horrid.
Thousands will die tonight. Some will be Zombies, but most of them will be the unsuspecting zealots who killed my friend. I hold the binoculars up to my eyes and force myself to watch. Justice is rarely beautiful and I have to accept what I’ve done. I stare through the eyeholes and watch as the Zombies begin dragging out women and children, tackling them to the ground as they flee. They stare up at their attackers with horrified, unsuspecting eyes. They had never expected anything like this to happen. They had put this darkness behind them. They had found a solution, and yet, here they were. Here were the horrors they had locked up and respected. I wonder what sort of doubt is running through their heads while they hear word on the far side of the encampment that there are Zombies coming for them. I look to the east and the west, looking at the entrances where the resistance is trying to hold on against the wave after wave of flesh-eating lunatics. They’re already flanked, they just don’t know it yet.
I can still hear horns blowing, high above all the noise. They’re recalling everyone who is out in the city, watching the perimeter or hunting for me. They’re out there, thinking that they’ve found me, but little do they know what’s really happening. I’m not sure how much longer the Zombies are going to survive if there are lots and lots of patrols out in the city. Most likely the Zombies will be cut down and flanked by the returning patrols. If I want to get down there, cause more chaos, then I’m going to need to go now.
Tents are burning and the Zombies have set fire to the northern portion of the encampment. I stare at them, realizing that it’s the stuff inside of the soaked tents that is burning first. Everything they own is going up in flames. Men, women, and children are all rushing to douse the growing fires before they spread to take more of the encampment. It’s a hopeless effort, since the Zombies keep coming and those protecting the fire crews are getting tackled and torn down before any effort can truly be made. Most of them don’t even know what to do with the Zombies. They hesitate, staring in horror as gore and blood drips from their faces, covering their hands and mouths and chests. It occurs to me that some of these Zombies might be familiar faces. They might be patrols that had been caught in storms and quarantined for the safety of the encampment. Had I just unleashed their old friends upon them? I don’t want to think about it, and really don’t care. They deserve what they are getting.