S. Johnathan Davis

900 MINUTES

For Hayden and Olivia

Never lose sight of your dreams… wherever they may take you.

Remember that the journey is far more valuable than the destination.

We had everything, and our arrogance took it away from us. When the world fell to shit, our lives fell right with it. The dead roam the landscape while Man fights over what little we have left. It wasn’t the strongest or the most intelligent of us that survived. It was the ones most willing to adapt to the new rules of the world. No matter how hard we tried to avoid it, those still alive have all lost a little humanity.

The Zs may have kick-started our extinction… but we’ll be the ones that finish it. In the end, Mankind has turned out to be the real plague.

Chapter 1

My knuckles turned white as I pushed on the flashing instrument panel, bracing for impact. There was a sudden drop in my stomach as the helicopter took the final plunge. I think I was screaming, but it happened so quickly, I can’t really be sure. In the moment before we crashed, I remember seeing the beam from the headlight of the chopper as it got smaller and smaller against the calm, flat water. Glancing over, I watched Kyle’s entire body arch back as he pulled on the yoke in vain.

There was no stopping this.

I saw us hit the water more than I felt it. Anything not physically attached in the chopper flung forward in a magnificent fucktastrophy of mayhem. I think the blades hit first and twisted the entire helicopter sideways. A white first aid kit flew forward and cracked Jarvis across the head, shooting a dark splatter of blood across the front window as we continued to turn. Another jarring flip as the tail hit the dark waves flung me against the roof of the cockpit. I felt a stabbing pain in my neck as my body rolled around like a rag doll… my breathing slowed, and the world around me started to fade to black.

Then there was nothing but darkness.

In what I think was only a moment later, my eyes went wide as the frigid water slapped across my face. Slowly sitting up, I realized that I was perched on the roof of the cockpit looking up at the chair I had been sitting in. The only light in the cabin came from what was left of the flickering instrument panel, which was now dangling above my head.

Feeling my ears begin to pop, I clenched my teeth at the realization that we were still sinking. Twisting around to face the front window, I gasped at the sight of water rushing in around the seams of the glass, which for the moment, appeared to be holding under the mounting pressure. Catching my attention, I noticed that the headlight from the helicopter was still on, flickering in short intermittent bursts against the long, standing seaweed as it waved good-bye while we fell further into the abyss.

Looking over, I saw Kyle hanging upside down from the pilot’s chair. He’d been smart enough to wear his seat belt. Pulling a lever at his hip, the latch dropped him headfirst to the roof of the cabin below. Landing with his arms out, he pulled himself upright in one quick motion.

Looking over toward me, he finally said, “I’ve had better landings.”

Nodding wearily, I reached up to find blood dripping down my own forehead. I didn’t know if it was mine, or someone else’s.

“Jarvis is out, but alive!” Kyle yelled as he pulled his hand back from holding two fingers against Jarvis’s neck. “Where the hell is that gun?”

We both shot our attention to the cabin behind us. The gun, a small nine millimeter hand pistol, was sitting just out of reach of Rodgers, our fourth and final passenger. He too was out cold, and both his legs appeared to be pinned under one of the seats that had come loose.

I dove forward to grab the pistol just as Rodgers came to. He looked up at me with a clear sense of terror in his eyes as he realized the situation he was in. Nobody said a word. There wasn’t a sound that could be heard except the ever-present dripping of water as it continued to slowly fill the chopper.

We were still descending.

“Get me the fuck out of here. My legs are caught!” Rodgers screamed.

Looking down at the gun in my hands, a pop from the windshield pulled my gaze just as the first crack started to splinter down its clear finish. We needed to get out of this tomb.

Rodgers could see what I was thinking. “Don’t you dare do it, John!” Rodgers cried out. “Don’t you shoot out that glass.”

Glancing back out the front window, I could see the exterior light illuminating the murky water as we gently landed upside down with a thud on the muddy bottom of the lake. The aircraft shifted forward, then to the side, as we all rolled along with it, before finding its final resting place. A movement caught my attention outside. Something had swayed with the current just at the edge of what was visible from the exterior light.

“What was that? What the hell was that?” Rodgers yelled as he shifted back and forth, trying to free his legs.

“Shoosh,” Kyle whispered as he cocked his head to the side.

We all paused in horror with our eyes fixed on the flickering exterior light.

A thump from above us broke the silence. Freezing up, not one of us moved as a dull scratching noise emerged. It was soft at first, then slowly grew louder.

“They’re out there, man. Don’t you shoot that glass. Don’t you do it!” Rodger irrationally said again, this time looking right at me.

“Holy shit… holy hot fucking shit!” he yelled as he pointed at the front glass.

I felt my heart jump into my stomach as we all saw it. The slight glow of the instrument panel illuminated those hollow red eyes, the clear mark of the dead, looking in at us. The creature slid down the front of the window into the mud. We lost sight of it for a moment. The monster then stood up in its full deadly glory right in front of the exterior light, its clothing hanging loosely in the dark current.

A bead of sweat ran down my face, and my hands began to tremble. I could feel the gun shaking as the creature waded toward us, pressing its water-bloated white face against the glass, causing the small crack to spiderweb down the windshield.

Water continued to pool up and was ankle deep when Jarvis lifted his head. Looking around at our surroundings, and glancing at me holding the gun, he wearily said, “Looks like we’re in a bit of a pickle, huh boys?”

More scratching from the roof. The creature outside was joined by another, both slowly pounding on the glass. He was right. We were fucked.

“Can you make it?” Kyle asked, looking down at Jarvis.

“I’m afraid I’m going to have to pass on this lovely swim, my friends,” he said, revealing a blood-covered hand as he lifted it up from his leg. Biting down hard on my lip, I fought to conceal any sense of hysteria as we saw the metal pipe sticking through his thigh.

Like the beat of a scratchy drum, the creatures continued to press from the outside. The water was at my knee as Kyle moved behind Jarvis to lift his head.

“Like hell you’re not up for this one,” Kyle said calmly. “It’s time to pull your shit together. We’re gonna get out of here.”

“Don’t you shoot that fucking glass, John. There has to be another way!” Rodgers screamed again. Looking back, I saw that he had freed himself from beneath the metal seat. On all fours, his eyes landed on the gun, looking like he was ready to pounce to stop me.

The air was becoming stale, and I could hear the gushing water as I watched it quickly rising against the wall of the chopper.

Snapping us all to attention, a crackle boomed from the radio.

“Jarvis… ohhh Jarvis. You better not be dead down there. We’re not done with you yet,” a voice radiated out.

My blood was boiling as I lifted the gun toward the glass. That son of a bitch on the other end of the radio had caused us so much pain.

“You have to pull the trigger. You’re running out of time. Do it,” Jarvis whispered.

Kyle reached down and placed his hand on the pole sticking out of Jarvis’s mangled leg.

“Sorry about this, old friend,” he said. With a quick jerk, he rocked the metal pipe, along with Jarvis’s thigh, back and forth, breaking it free from the roof of the cockpit.

Jarvis bit hard, and I could see a tear roll down his red face, but he didn’t scream. Leaving the metal pipe firmly in his leg, Kyle pulled Jarvis up into a sitting position against the wall of twisted wires and metal.

The radio crackled again. “Come on, guys, you’re not giving up already are you? We have so much fun ahead of us.”

Keeping his distance from me, Rodgers screamed out toward the radio in vain, calling for help. He then fixed his gaze back on the weapon. I could tell that he wanted to stop me, but I was holding all the cards, and he knew I wasn’t in a bluffing mood.

Lifting Jarvis toward the front of the chopper and bracing himself against the seat above, Kyle looked over at me.

“You ready for this?”

“No,” I replied, looking directly in his eyes.

“Me neither,” he said with a grim smile. I looked back at Rodgers as I pulled the weapon up toward the glass.

Two hundred miles to go, a madman hot on our tails… the odds were stacked against us. However, sometimes it’s the long shots that payoff the biggest.

“Don’t you do it, man. John. John. Please man, don’t do this. There’s got to be another way!” Rodger pleaded with me, edging closer.

The radio cracked one final time “Come on up, men… this game has just begun.”

Cringing at his voice, I peered through the cracking window as one single thought ran through my mind. The clock was ticking. We only had fifteen hours left. With each second counting down, it was a number that left us with no more than…

900 Minutes

_________________________________

Earlier that day, before we were stuck in an underwater grave with the dead crawling outside… and a madman hot on our tail.

Chapter 2

In this new world I’d become a dealer of death, and that hammer was my deck of cards.

I had two weeks’ worth of stubble. Might have been a beard if I could actually grow one. Instead, mine was a patchy mess, and covered only parts of my face. Reflecting back in the mirror, the puffs under my eyes appeared heavier than normal. Taking a deep breath, I watched my lungs lift and drop as I realized my face seemed to have aged ten years in the seven months since the dead began to… well, not stay dead.

Buried deep in the underground bunker, I often wondered if we had made the right choice… that fateful decision to return to Avalon. Even at the time, heading back to a place where we were forced to fight as gladiators in the Arena while sparking a revolt within the walls of that supposed safe haven had seemed like a pretty awful idea.

In the end, we returned mostly because we had nowhere else to go. With Fort Gordon in Augusta, Georgia being a dead end, we were out of any real options. Besides, they were willing to welcome us back with open arms. The heroes of the Arena. The men who’d helped to take down the Elites.

Personally, I felt like it was all bullshit. We were just trying to survive.

Rinsing a three-inch metal razor under warm water in the sink, I watched as the clear liquid filled up the metal bowl before spiraling down the drain. Shaving cream was a rare commodity these days, and I’d been avoiding this for far too long.

Pulling me from the mirror, a tiny cough came from the dimly lit makeshift crib across the room. Setting the razor down, I shook a plastic bottle that I’d prepared earlier that night, stepped around the table, and passed the long side of the bed to where Tyler was lying. His deep blue eyes peered up at me as he pulled his tiny feet to his face and gummed them.

Reaching down with my left arm, I lifted him up from the base of the crib, and we plopped down together on the couch. The room was huge compared to what most people at Avalon had. I think the others just stuck us in it, away from the common area, so they wouldn’t have to listen to the crying in the middle of the night.

Trust me, I wasn’t complaining.

Slowly putting the nipple of the bottle into his mouth, I looked down at his now-closed eyes as he chugged down the milk. You’d think he hadn’t eaten in days, but I’d been up doing this same routine just hours earlier.

Rinse and repeat all night long until the morning.

Those dark nights with my son, holding him close, feeling his heartbeat, should have been the most precious moments of my life. Instead, it simply seemed to create too much time to think. Too much time for memories. Too much time for pain.

Sitting there in the silence, trying to keep my mind clear, I couldn’t help but glance down at his face. Feeling my eyes beginning to well up, I tilted my head and looked at the rust creeping across the metal-covered ceiling, once again, taking a deep breath of recycled air into my lungs.

He looked so much like her…

My mind would drift, often to the last time I’d seen my wife. Memories always seemed to find their way down that dark path to the moment she’d turned. Those savage red eyes staring blankly at me.

I would think back to her grave.

Most everything about that day is a blur… except the moment I had buried my wife.

I remember using a rusted shovel that blistered my hands against that worn handle as I pulled up heaps of red Georgia clay to create the shallow grave… leaving her body to rest in a nameless field just outside the landing pad in Augusta.

A wife torn from her husband. A boy who would never know his mother.

We couldn’t take her with us, and I wouldn’t leave her to rot. I remember standing above the grave, reaching down to my wedding ring, twisting it around a swollen finger. She’d told me the ring was a lifetime ring, made of titanium, a nearly indestructible metal. As a symbol of our lives together, we were supposed to last forever. With my hands covered in blood, dirt, and God knows what else, a flash of rage screamed through my body as I yanked the ring off and threw it down into the fresh dirt resting below. I didn’t deserve to wear such a sacred vow.

I had let her die.

Feeling my knees tremble, I dropped to the ground to sturdy myself.

In that moment, my wedding ring caught my eye. I’m not going to call it fate, or anything more than the sun gleaming across it, but I felt compelled to reach down to brush the dirt off its base. Pausing, I picked it up and slid the vow back across my finger.

I couldn’t let myself off the hook that easily.

Eventually, we all get knocked down. Sometimes, we get hit harder and more brutally than others. The question always is will you have the strength to get back up? On that day, I was able to dig down and find what I needed to lift my head to keep moving.

No matter how hard I was hit and how easy it would have been to curl up and die… in the end, I had more than myself to think about.

After all, I still had one thing worth living for. My son.

Wiping a sleeve across my face, I sat up, pulling my foot from the table in front of us, and leaned over to adjust the nebulizer. That small medical device that vaporized liquid was designed to push the fine, lifesaving mist deep into Tyler’s lungs. Rubbing his soft cheek with the outside of my finger, I let out a deep sigh as I made sure the face mask sitting over his nose and mouth was firmly in place.

Administering the precious medicine directly into his lungs, my own chest tightened as I realized this was the last of the medication here in my room. I’d need to head back to the Med Center to pick up more before tomorrow’s dose.

Tyler was on the countdown timer now, and I had no idea the start button had already been pushed. If only I’d known what was happening down the hall. The chaos that had already broken out. I would have held him a little tighter, kissed him a little harder, and hugged him with a little more love. But that’s how this new world works now.

In a flash, everything can change.

Bronchial inflammation of the airways, that’s what the doctor called it. With the shit luck of being born premature, Tyler’s lungs were simply underdeveloped. The doc explained it would cause Tyler’s airways to swell, tighten, and produce a crap ton of mucus in his lungs. Something so easily controllable with a simple inhaler.

Things were different now.

Between oxygen therapy keeping his lungs moving in those first months of his life, and the daily medication regimen we had him on, I thought we had everything covered. After all, we had enough supplies to last quite a while…

Looking over toward the mirror, I saw the reflection of the two of us staring back. Taking a deep breath in and letting it out with another sigh, my eyes landed on the razor sitting on the sink. I still needed to shave.

With Tyler in the crib, I stepped back over to the faucet and slid some white lather across my cheek. Just then, a knock came to the steel door at the entrance to our room. Rolling my eyes, I dropped the razor and wiped my face clean. Shaving would have to wait a bit longer. Dignity would have to take a rain check.

Gently removing the mask from around Tyler’s face, I lifted him up from the crib on my way to the door while tickling him in the soft spot under his arm–savoring every moment. I grinned as a smile burst across his face, accompanied by a raw but genuine giggle. He stretched over my shoulder, trying to escape. Afraid there was no such luck for the little guy.

It didn’t matter that there was no peephole in the door. I already knew who patiently waited on the other side. Reaching down to the handle with a sigh, I noticed the ring resting on my finger before I turned it to the left.

If I had known what was already unfolding on the other side of the complex, I would have been far more cautious…

Opening the door with an audible metal on metal squeak, I flashed a friendly but unconvincing smile.

“Oh, you don’t have to fake it,” she said as she reached out to pull Tyler into her arms. “I know you didn’t get any sleep last night. Now give me that little man.”

Lazily nodding, I reached up to a small bit of cream that I’d missed and wiped it away with my hand. “Well, good morning to you too, Deanna.”

Deanna had been watching Tyler almost every day. She was a mother once, long ago, but never spoke of it. Luckily, the wrinkles on her face told me that her children were grown by the time the world went to shit. I knew that they weren’t here in Avalon, which by all accounts meant they were likely not of the living. She probably knew it too.

In this world, deep down, we all feared the worst.

Placing a hand on the doorframe, I noticed the slight limp that came with age as she stepped into the room. Her gray hair was pulled up into a bun, and she wore a multi-colored dress that fell loosely over her body.

Deanna loved Tyler, and I always felt comfortable leaving him with her. She was that perfect grandmother type, and I’d often wondered how she’d even managed to survive the initial days. In the end, I just figured she was determined to live because she was too afraid to die… just like the rest of us.

Picking up the bottle that I’d made earlier to find that it was empty, she shot me a “Thanks for the help, dick!” kinda look.

Holding my hand out in front of me, I pointed at my face. “I can’t even find time to shave.”

Shaking her head while walking over to replace the bottle, she looked out of the corner of her eye and asked, “What are you boys up to today?”

She was always looking for little nuggets of dirt on the inner workings of Avalon.

“Exterior defenses.”

She looked blankly out into the room, thinking through it for a moment before responding. “Outside the wall?”

“That’s what they tell me. Guess we’re gonna herd the Zs into the Dead Shed.”

“I hate that place. Seems so dangerous… What if those things get loose?”

Months ago, we’d made a conscious decision to construct a small compound outside the concrete walls of Avalon. The compound, made of mostly sturdy wooden planks, gave the appearance of an old oversized shed. Little would any would-be attackers know that it was filled to the brim with Zs that we’d been collecting in there for months. If anybody we couldn’t handle ever decided to storm our wall, the best defense would be an offense that started with letting those bastards loose to swarm the Yard.

“That’s the point, Deanna. They’re supposed to get loose… when we want them to,” I said, trying to fake a little confidence.

“I still don’t like it…”

Nodding, I walking over to the closet and pulled out a scuffed-up black helmet which matched the black body armor I was wearing. Flipping a switch on my belt, I heard a tiny squelch through a two-way radio that rested on my shoulder as I thought back to the origin of the suit. A remnant left over from the fallen men that once guarded Avalon. I always felt a little strange knowing that someone had likely died in it.

Reaching into my cabinet, I pulled out a nine mil that I’d been carrying around for the past few months. Having a gun is a funny thing, giving one a false sense of security. In the world of the dead, unless you were a crack shot, it was just a piece of metal that shot projectiles. Effective sometimes, yes, but it didn’t let you feel the crunch of the skull to know you’d done the job right.

For that, I needed my hammer.

Holstering the gun, I reached my hand back down into the cabinet, emerging with the hammer I’d had at my side since the beginning. My trusted hammer. I’d trade it for any gun when going up against the Zs. It’s hard to look back now and know how many of the dead that metal head has taken out. One thing was for certain though; I had gotten damn good at killing them.

In this new world, I’d become a dealer of death, and that hammer was my deck of cards.

Chapter 3

Pulling a breath of fire into my lungs, I looked up with my hammer drawn.

Glancing at the red blinking alarm clock resting by the bed, I realized it was nearly time to meet up with my team topside, leaving my son behind. Leaning down, I lifted him up and held his tiny body out in front of my face, capturing one good memory in my mind before leaving the compound. I’d need it to get me through the horror out there.

Reluctantly passing Tyler back to Deanna, I stepped over to the mirror and reached back down into the sink to pick up the razor. Just as I reapplied a nice white lather of cream across my face, I heard a squelch through the speaker on my shoulder, followed by a panicked voice, “We’ve got a stumbler!”

Nearly dropping the razor, I could feel my heart rate spike, beating across the chest plate of my body armor.

Looking up from the couch, Deanna could see the alarm in my face reflecting in the mirror. “What’s wrong?”

“We have an outbreak,” I hurriedly said while grabbing a brown towel to wipe the shaving cream from my chin.

Sweat had already started to bead up across my forehead. I was getting ready to set off for the hunt, and it was never easy. When the creatures first turned, they would be quick, and it usually took the whole lot of us to put them down.

Again, the speaker in my headset boomed, “It’s breaking out fast. It’s in the Med Center, and this bastard is tearing the place up.”

You see, sometimes it seems like we don’t value life. People tend to die for the dumbest fucking reasons. In the first months of living in this sanctuary, we had ten people die or get killed. One was an old guy who died banging his wife. We think it was a heart attack, but we’ll never know. Two others died in construction-related accidents, crushed by a series of concrete walls which were erected to keep a small section of land safe outside. All the others died from internal fighting, meaning they got in fights and killed each other.

In each circumstance, the people who died came back almost immediately and caused outbreaks within the walls of our little world… it was too easy for this to spread.

Twisting around, I picked the helmet up off the bed and slid it back under my arm while reaching for the exit.

“Keep the door shut. Don’t open it for any reason until I get back.”

Eyes wide, she nodded in agreement and pulled Tyler close to her chest. Glancing through the crack in the steel door just as I pulled it shut, the last thing I saw was her rubbing a hand through the little bit of hair on Tyler’s head. He’d be safe with her. She’d give her life for that little guy, and I knew it.

Another voice boomed from the microphone, “John, get your ass down here. You’re draggin’!”

It was Kyle, the one man who’d stood by my side since the first day of the outbreak. I could tell he was pissed. What did he expect? I was on the other side of the facility.

The iridescent bulbs hanging above provided a dim light that gave everything a greenish gray tint as I sprinted down a series of underground hallways. Passing a number of rooms, much like the one Tyler and I inhabited, I noticed all the steel doors were tightly shut. We were on lockdown, and everybody knew the drill. With thick smoke bellowing through the halls, I quickly realized we’d be dealing with more than the dead.

I’d later be told that it was a malfunction in the cooling system. A small short that caused all this pain. The fact is, we really didn’t know what caused the fridge to catch on fire. With the thing completely burnt to pieces, a short seemed like more of a guess than anything else. The reality was that whatever happened, however it happened, it would have a crippling blow on all of us.

Almost there. I could hear screams of pain echoing through the hallways.

It was clear that there were more than one of those things running around in that Med Center. Whoever died had been kind enough to invite a few others across the chasm to death along with them. Now they were threatening the very fabric of our world. They were threatening the delicate balance between us being alive and there being seventy dead Zs roaming around, trapped in the giant underground bunker we called home.

Hearing a set of squeaking boots tapping behind me, I turned my head to see one of my teammates sprinting after me. As he approached, he held out an oversized padded glove, which gave him the appearance of being bigger than he actually was.

Before the apocalypse, he was booted from the military after assaulting an officer. Re-assimilation back into the “world” took a toll on him, and he wound up on some sort of anti-psychotic drugs, which I guess leveled him out. In fact, he was so calm that he wound up taking on the role of a substitute teacher. According to the guy, the meds helped him conform to the old world’s rules… and besides, he says the kids loved him.

We called him Mr. Rodgers.

Looking back, I guess it’s no surprise that so many people were taking some sort of medication. We were always “connected.” Mass media, cell phones, Internet access from wherever you happened to be. We couldn’t cut the umbilical cord to information. There was no shutting off, and the human brain was never supposed to operate at a hundred percent capacity all day, every day.

After the first week of the apocalypse, Rodgers’ meds ran out. This was a problem, but not for him. The rage and anger that he had been suppressing for so many years came out tenfold, and he used it on the bastards trying to eat his flesh.

By the time we ran into Rodgers, you could tell he wasn’t quite right. There was a look in his eye, a mix between distant and manic. You didn’t know whether he was going to tell a joke or slice your stomach open. He’d do both with a smile. In the end, though, he was a good guy to have on our side. He’d saved my life more than once. I shuddered at the thought of him being against us.

Reaching up, I bumped his glove with my fist, feeling a little foolish at the act, and then reached down to pull the hammer from my belt. Heading down the hallway together at top speed, I could feel my lungs fighting for oxygen as the thickening black smoke bellowed out of the now-visible door to the Med Center.

As we approached the entrance, I did a quick count, cringing at the realization that at least seven creatures were manically tearing the Med Center to pieces. Sliding to a stop at the doorframe, I froze as fourteen of those distinct red eyes, all glowing against the dancing flames engulfing the far wall, paused and slowly landed directly upon Rodgers and me.

With the exception of the raging fire, I didn’t have a clue how it got so bad in there. Usually we’d move in, take a few shots to drop the dead, and be done with this sort of thing. I’d later learn that two of the others in our group had decided they’d go in on their own to try to save a child before the rest of us showed up. They were in the thick of it when Kyle arrived, and he couldn’t risk their lives with a firefight.

We were well beyond that now.

Briefly wondering why so many people were packed into the room, I had to remind myself that this was the apocalypse. People got hurt. People got sick. And no matter who they were, when someone’s not feeling great, they always seemed to wind up at in the same place.

Only on that day, the doc wasn’t exactly trading lollipops for smiles.

Leaping through the doorway, we entered the Med Center ready to exchange blows. With almost no time to react, a woman dressed in a nurse’s uniform charged toward me with her mouth spread open. Seeing a chunk of mutilated flesh hanging loosely from her teeth, I lifted the nine mil and slammed my finger across the trigger. The bullet spiraled toward her skull, blowing a hole through the back of her dark, matted hair. Taking a half a step back, I watched the woman stumble to the floor, nearly sliding into my boots, before my eyes lifted to find a splatter of dark red gore dripping down Rodgers’s faceplate.

“What the fuck!” he shouted. Wiping the blood from his faceplate with his oversized glove, he then looked back at the cylindrical metal door. “Close that thing. Let’s make sure none of them escape!”

Not questioning the thought, I started to shut the door as he dove into the mix. I had to put my feet up against a wall just to get the thing moving. All the doors in Avalon were giant like this. After all, the place was built as a bunker in case of nuclear war. For the zombie apocalypse… it felt a bit overdone.

The room itself had vents, which sucked up some of the smoke. However, feeling the tears crawling down through my shitty beard, I could tell it wasn’t enough.

Looking over to the fire, I watched as one of the creatures stepped a tad too close and caught ablaze. Spinning through the Med Center, it let out a primordial scream as its melting flesh splashed the flames across the room.

Pulling a breath of fire into my lungs, I looked up with my hammer drawn. Kyle was tearing the place up, taking two of the creatures on with his bare hands. One of them was wearing the same black body armor the rest of us were. I couldn’t tell who it was, but clearly one of our team had been turned and was after Kyle.

Shooting my focus back to the spinning, fiery Z, my eyes went wide as I realized the direction it was heading. I had to stop it…

“Enough of this shit!” I screamed out as I charged in.

Nine mil in one hand and my hammer in my other, I could feel the gun come to life as it spit bullets toward the creatures between the flaming Z and me. After a few obvious misses, I was able to take down three of the monsters before the clip emptied. Throwing it to the side, I dove into the mix, shifting sideways across a Z dressed in a chef’s apron, which was now more red than white.

The chef was a big bastard, and I recognized him immediately. It was Earl. He’d served me on more than one occasion, and I hated that I had to put him down. However, at the end of the day, he was already dead… I was just finishing the job.

Pinning the chef to the ground, I brought the full force of the hammer down through the Z’s skull. As he was still violently twisting on the ground, I brought it down once again, feeling the metallic head crash through the monster’s face, hitting the concrete floor with an audible clank. Wiping my forearm across the plastic faceplate covering my eyes and mouth, I managed to smear away just enough of the blood splatter to see the fire continuing to waltz gracefully toward the medicine cabinet.

Glancing at Rodgers, I watched as he moved in on the flaming Z. Roaring with an all-too-familiar scream as it charged, I couldn’t help but think that the creature looked more like a pissed-off version of Satan than the undead.

With rage screaming from his bloodshot eyes, Mr. Rodgers lifted a double-barreled shotgun from his hip and pulled the trigger, pumping a round of buckshot through the chest and skull of the Z. A perfect shot, with one exception. The creature hit the ground hard, but not before it fell backwards against the oversized cabinet that held the medication.

Watching in horror, I stood helpless as the fire engulfed the entire cabinet in just seconds. Knowing we couldn’t let it spread, I turned my head from side to side, looking for an extinguisher before my eyes lifted to the ceiling. Why the hell hadn’t the emergency extinguisher gone off?

With my eyes focused on the small metal sprinkler closest to the flaming wall, I darted toward it, took a running jump, and drove the head of my hammer through that malfunctioning piece of shit with an audible metal on metal crack.

In the moment before I looked up to see Kyle drop one of the creatures across the room, I saw the metal sprinkler head hit the ground in front of me, sliding to a stop at the edge of the chef’s apron. An instant later, small drops of water began to rain from above.

With that blow, the tides turned in that little skirmish, and our team made quick work of the rest of the Zs; the fire quickly extinguished to nothing more than a smoldering ash pile. The Med Center was a mess, and blood was spiraling into pools on the concrete floor. That shit never truly washed out of the concrete. If you looked close enough, you’d see light pink stains scattered throughout the halls of Avalon.

A stain. It is all that is left of us once we’re gone.

“Jesus, man, I thought Mr. Rodgers was nuts,” Kyle said as he walked up to me and patted my shoulder.

Keeping my eyes fixed on the melted plastic and cracked glass of the medicine bottles, I didn’t respond. It hadn’t hit me yet… what this really meant. At the time, I thought we had some additional meds in storage.

“We need to get you some cardio,” Kyle continued as he tapped two fingers against the armor across my stomach.

I laughed but still didn’t respond to his quip. Hell, I was in better shape than I’d been in since high school. Before the apocalypse, I’d spent ten years sitting in front of a computer. The most exercise I would get in an average day was walking up and down the stairs in the parking garage, and that was only because it was an easier route than walking across the full length of the garage to get to the elevator. We were bred to be lazy back then.

And I was as pathetic as the rest of them.

Pulled from my introspection, Kyle caught my attention as he crossed the room toward a smaller sized cabinet. Nodding his head up toward me, then glancing back down at the metal handle just below, he motioned for me to walk over toward him. As I approached, he crouched down a bit and whispered that he’d seen someone crawl in there, but wasn’t sure if they’d been bitten or not.

With the adrenaline still coursing through my veins, I lifted the hammer above my head, ready to strike while Kyle reached one arm down to the cabinet. Taking a deep breath, I nodded to him as he touched his hand to the handle and yanked.

Stepping forward, ready to bring the weapon down, I pulled back as a small girl rolled out onto the floor. She wasn’t older than ten or twelve, and didn’t have a mark on her. With long blond hair and overly pale skin from living underground too long, she looked almost angelic.

Putting my hammer back into my belt, and nodding at Kyle, I reached down and lifted her up with both hands. One small arm rolled across her chest, and she lifted her head slightly before falling back to sleep.

I gave a huge sigh of relief. With all the death in that room, at least one person had made it.

Chapter 4

The chef did make good eggs.

My eyes caught a movement across the room. There was a banging at the cylindrical door, followed by a squelch as a circular switch began to turn to the right. I glanced back at Kyle, who shook his head. Mr. Rodgers lifted his eyes to meet mine. It couldn’t be the creatures.

The door clanged open and slowly swung wide as we watched our fearless leader enter the room.

Jarvis, the man who had been elected leader of Avalon shortly after Kyle and I had returned, stepped through the frame and into a pile of gore covering the floor. Glancing down, he shook his boot, splashing small chunks of brain across the dead body of a woman wearing a scarf.

When we initially encountered Jarvis, in those first weeks of the apocalypse, he was well-kept. Suit and a tie, short silver hair, and a friendly smile that you couldn’t help but trust. His status was somewhere in between the Elites that ran Avalon and the Commoners that were tasked with taking care of it.

It’s funny to think of him like that. Over the past months, his polished demeanor was quickly replaced with black Army fatigues and long, pushed-back hair. He now sported a small scar running down his neck, a wound he’d picked up during the fight after the Arena battle, and a constant two days’ worth of gray stubble. The harder, more toughened looking Jarvis was still just as poised as ever. He was someone we all knew we could trust.

Jarvis had fought hard to transform Avalon into a place where people were equal. He taught us to scavenge without stealing, and to live without needless killing. While we had our share of issues in this little compound, his leadership helped maintain a level of trust inside the walls. We all knew what we were following him toward… a society that adapted to the new reality, but held on to its humanity. Ultimately, he’d created a positive place in a world of evil. I would have followed Jarvis to hell and back. We all would.

Richard, his number two in command, sidestepped the reddish-black puddle and entered just behind him. They both looked around at the mess, assessing the damage to the Med Center.

“You boys got here a bit late on this one, didn’t you?” Jarvis finally asked.

None of us responded. He didn’t expect us to.

As they walked toward the middle of the room, their eyes finally fell on the small girl resting in my arms.

“One survivor,” I managed to get out.

No response from their end. I didn’t expect one.

We all looked around in silence. The writing was on the wall, in blood. At this pace, we weren’t going to make it. There was no stopping the fact that as hard as we tried, this existence would eventually end us all. We were simply holding our thumb on the slow motion button until we hit the inevitable.

Glancing up from the little girl, I looked over at Jarvis and asked, “Have we received any more communication from our friends on the West Coast?”

I must have looked desperate.

Jarvis shifted his shoulders toward mine, but didn’t make eye contact as he continued to look around the room “No, we haven’t heard from them in six weeks.”

“It’s looking more and more like we’re on our own out here,” Richard added in a low, solemn voice.

There was one distant star of hope out there just weeks after the world fell apart. Avalon’s communication array was fairly advanced, and we were able to connect with a group that called themselves the New America. According to the radio broadcasts, they were on the West Coast, living in the Rockies. Evidently, what was left of the government had set up shop there while they figured out what to do about Occupied America’s little infestation. Occupied America being everything to the east of the Mississippi River, according to the broadcasts.

“Never thought those guys were real anyway,” Rodgers finally spoke up from the background. “All seemed a bit too convenient… Safety in the mountain, new government. Blah blah blah.”

He said this as he kneeled over and smeared the blood splatter from his faceplate against the blood-soaked smock of the fallen chef. “You know, I liked this guy. He made the dried eggs seem almost passable. Shame really. I need to figure out how he did that.”

He was right. Earl did make good eggs.

“If you ask me, this so-called ‘New America’ is just a bunch of guys holed up in a bunker somewhere with nothing else to do but give people false hope,” he continued.

We sat there in silence. Who could argue? The thought had crossed all our minds. It was heavily debated in the first weeks after their broadcasts began. After all, we never saw them. It was all just a bunch of radio chatter. The so-called New America could have been one or two guys getting their kicks out of messing with anybody still keeping the ol’ radio dial on.

Our apocalyptic version of the greatest hits.

It gave us something to listen to at first. Always someone on there. Sounded like the same one or two guys, but you couldn’t really tell through the static.

They kept broadcasting that food and medical supply drops would be coming. Kept telling us that we needed to hunker down until they could get us out. Support would be coming to areas that were fortified and held people. They encouraged us to be their eyes and ears in the occupied zone and to report back anything that we saw. Our outbound radio broadcasts were met with static. We were always careful not to be specific about our location, but hoped we’d at least get some sort of response. Maybe we didn’t have the range. Or maybe it really all was just bullshit.

Most important… they asked everybody in the occupied zone for patience, something that was running in short supply.

Avalon had means. Hell, we had an armada of planes and helicopters sitting outside our walls. Gas was always an issue, but shortly after we learned about New America, we decided to use what we had to fuel up one of our long-distance planes. Kyle called it a Gulfstream. Three men had left on that plane setting out to head west. With no specific destination or address, they were simply heading toward where the sun set.

One of them was the Asian that had fought side by side with Kyle and me in the Arena. I’d still never heard the guy say a word. Not even when he looked back at us as he stepped into the cockpit. However, there was a determination in his eyes that made me feel like he’d make it.

Hope was high at that point. A good opportunity to escape the madness. We were assuming that there was a part of the world that still existed without these creatures running rampant. Hell, it was the only thing that could really keep us going. In the end, we were just hoping that the broadcasts were not full of shit.

Sometimes you need a little hope.

After three weeks without a response from the team, things started to feel a little darker. Hope had an easy way of drying up really quick.

Richard was pacing around the room inspecting the damage. Not a word slipped through his thick cracked lips, but I could see his mind working out all the options as his eyes darted from the charred cabinet to the bent sprinkler head resting sideways on the slick wet floor. He’d worked on the Hill in Washington prior to the outbreak, and showed up knocking at the doors of Avalon shortly after Kyle and I had returned.

The guy was smart, that much was clear. He always seemed to know which way the wind was blowing, quickly finding himself inside of Jarvis’s inner circle. In some ways, he was a natural leader. He had the kind of smile that made you trust every word he said. I’ve heard people call it charisma.

Over the course of history, it is generally believed that the leaders who have done the most damage, as well as the most good, in our world have possessed that magical gift. The rare trait of magnetic charm, often no more than a veneer used to persuade others. Humans are hard-wired to dislike uncertainty, so there’s a high tendency to gravitate toward someone who shows none. The right type of person, preaching the right thing, with the right kind of “I know what I’m talking about charm” can and have had a profound effect on the world. Martin Luther King Jr. and JFK were reportedly charismatic people. On the flip side of that coin, so were Hitler and Charles Manson.

Now I’m not saying Richards was any sort of monster, but I couldn’t quite place what I didn’t trust about him in the beginning. Maybe it’s because I didn’t like politics, and by default I didn’t like politicians. However, for some reason, my gut would turn ever so slightly anytime he was around. His demeanor reminded me of any number of charismatic blowhards flowing in and out of Corporate America, playing to executive interests more than solving any of the real problems.

I’ve often believed that sometimes organizations succeed despite their leadership… not because of it.

Breaking the silence, the sound of footsteps running down the hallway drew our attention. They were soft steps, even as they came closer. An unfamiliar woman, panic-stricken, flew through the doorway, her eyes falling directly on the child in my arms. Wearing jeans and a black jacket, her short blond hair bounced with every step she took toward me.

Teary-eyed, the woman burst out, “Is my baby OK?” As she leapt toward me with her arms drawn out to grab the child. She didn’t make eye contact with me at first, keeping her gaze glued to her daughter, as she rubbed one hand up her back and through her golden blond hair.

“She’s shaken up, but alive. I think she’ll be OK with rest,” I finally managed to get out as I finished delicately rolling the little girl into her mother’s arms.

“Oh baby, I don’t know what I would have done if you…” her words tapered off, while she squeezed her eyes shut.

Watching a tear roll down her soft, round cheek, I put my hand on the woman’s shoulder. “It’s going to be OK. She’s going to be OK.”

I’m not sure I believed my own words, but it must have come across genuinely enough because she pulled herself deep into my chest. Complete strangers to one another, I still inadvertently found myself wrapping both arms around her and the small child. I guess sometimes people just need to be held.

“Thank you. Thank you so much for saving my baby,” she whispered through a cracked voice as she looked up from my chest with those eyes.

They were soft; an almost transparent blue. The kind you’d see staring back at you from a magazine cover on one of those old celebrity magazines. I was taken aback by them at first. In the underground light, most people’s eyes looked hazel green. Not hers.

That is how I met Claire.

I’d later learn that Claire grew up just outside of Philadelphia. While her exterior was soft, you could tell she was a survivor. She’d have to be. After all, making the trek down to Avalon with a small child in tow must have been one hell of a journey. The kind of journey that only the most fierce, or lucky, of us would ever make—and she didn’t seem like the lucky type. A mother would do anything to protect her baby. I’m sure she had been pushed to her limits. We all had.

Maybe it was because I hadn’t held anyone in so long, or perhaps it was simply because I didn’t know what else to do, but I didn’t let go. There was a silence in that moment. The kind of calm that blocks out every noise around you. Neither of us budged, as if locked in time, using every second to replace so many others that had been missed. Sometimes a connection can be made without words, without text, without anything more than a touch. I felt it, and I want to say she did too. Perhaps we were both just replacing one another with the loved ones we’d lost. Perhaps not.

Jarvis spoke up. “Let’s get this place cleaned up. Richard, would you escort Claire and her daughter to their living quarters and get the child looked at?”

Unclenching my hands, as if they’d been pried open by the sudden request, I slowly lowered my arms while twisting my wedding ring between my fingers, as Claire turned toward Richard’s extended hand. “Let’s make sure this little sweetheart is right as rain,” he smiled. Standing there, watching them slowly walk away, I found myself blurting out, “Hey!”

Claire turned to look back. I hesitated with a flash of uncertainty, as my mind stuttered.

“What’s her name? Your little girl?” I managed to force out.

“Olivia,” she said, trying to pull off a smile, and then turned back toward Richard and kept walking.

“Olivia,” I whispered to myself. “We saved little Olivia.”

As they passed through the doorway, I noticed a number of people in the hallway. Each of them peering in with the hope that they had not lost any loved ones or friends.

Claire was lucky. There would be many others that were not.

Jarvis finally broke the silence. “That may be an issue,” he said while running a finger through the layer of ash atop the medicine cabinet.

This caught our attention, snapping Kyle away from watching Rodgers continue to thoughtfully clean his helmet visor on the dead man’s smock.

We’d all lost a little humanity.

“Can’t we replace it with what we have in storage?” I asked in a way that almost implied it wasn’t possible for this to be that big a problem.

“This was it, John. We’ve burned through the backup… we have nearly seventy people to take care of down here,” Jarvis said, remaining composed.

My mouth went dry, and my shoulders tensed, almost as if my body realized what this meant before my brain did. Not so much as a word slipped through my lips as my mind shot directly to the little boy back in my room that needed a daily dose of that liquid mist from the nebulizer.

Less than thirty minutes earlier, I’d administered the final dose that I had tucked away in our living quarters. When he was first diagnosed, the doc had instructed that Tyler was at risk of an attack at any time. Regular doses of the meds would mostly keep it at bay. Regular being every twenty-four hours or so…

However, again, that was ‘mostly,’ and mostly didn’t cut it. We needed the medication, and we needed it now.

It must have been obvious in my face. Kyle didn’t have to ask the question.

Stepping to the middle of the room, Kyle boldly stated, “John and I are heading out to find meds for his son. We’ll need to sort out where and how, but there’s no scenario where we don’t head out.” He said this while looking directly in my eyes. Something about how he said it made me feel like we’d actually be able to pull it off. After all, we had to, or my son would die.

“We’ll need to suit up and meet topside,” Kyle said, shifting his head toward where he thought the field was. “We’re heading outside the gates in an hour. We’ll need to get everything prepped right away.”

Looking around the room, Kyle then asked, “Who’s with us?”

Chapter 5

You’re not turning all hippie on me, are you?

After saying my final goodbyes to Tyler and Deanna, I found myself climbing a set of stairs that led up to a part of the field above the bunker which was fortified and surrounded by a series of large cement walls. I stepped toward my good friend. The one man I could trust.

Wearing a pair of sunglasses that hid his eyes, Kyle had his head tilted toward the sun. His equipment was piled up nearby, and he was using the moment of peace to enjoy the outside, taking deep breaths and pulling the fresh air into his lungs. I didn’t think he noticed me walking up beside him.

“Nothing like the outdoors,” he said as he exhaled.

Glancing up at the sky, I watched as a set of rolling white clouds lazily drifted through a magnificent blue sky. There were moments where one could almost forget about where we were and what had happened. The clouds didn’t give a shit whether humans or Zs roamed the landscape. They moved along just the same. It was the same sky the dinosaurs had looked at, and it would be the same one long after man was extinct. I took comfort in the fact that not everything had changed in the seven months since the dead began to… well, not stay dead.

“Getting a little cabin fever, are we?” I said as I glanced at Kyle.

“I would be perfectly happy setting up a tent out here and never going back down into that catacomb,” he replied, emphasizing catacomb as he looked at his own black, soot-covered hands.

“You’re not turning all hippie on me, are you?”

Glancing to me, with a straight face, he said, “Don’t know. You’re not turning all Wookie on me, are you?”

Reaching my hand up to the patchy beard I had failed to shave off for weeks, I cracked a smile and replied, “Touché…”

Slowly panning my gaze across the Yard, I noticed people scurrying around, getting ready. It was a big deal every time we entered and exited Avalon, and it took time to get everything in order. Still, I found myself tapping my foot. I couldn’t help but feel like we weren’t moving fast enough.

Prodding him a bit, I asked about the time, knowing full well what the answer was.

Without moving his face away from the sun, Kyle lifted his wrist to my face, placing a rusted gold-plated watch with a scratched faceplate to my eyes. Barely glancing at the hand slowly ticking around, I muttered “Shit” under my breath. “We’re already losing daylight.”

Kyle remained calm, trying not to get worked up. I knew him well enough to understand that he needed time to get mentally ready before heading out beyond the wall.

This was just his way of doing it, and didn’t in any way mean he wasn’t fully aware of the sense of urgency at hand.

The Yard, as we called the land we had sealed off from the outside world, was our small patch of safety outside. We had some gardens where we grew seasonal vegetables on the far side, a garage where we did most of the vehicle repairs, and a parking lot filled with four-wheel drive trucks and pickups which the group used for recon work and scavenging outside the walls. We even had a solid supply of fuel-filled drums stockpiled near the garage, which we’d collected from nearby gas stations.

Sticking out like a sore thumb was the bright yellow Hummer, now repaired, that Kyle and I had picked up in New York and traveled to Avalon in so many months ago. There was a special place in my heart for that vehicle. We’d been through a lot together. Just like my hammer.

Looking up at the sky, I couldn’t help but notice the two guard towers erected on each side of the Yard. They had spotlights and a few heavily armed men, men who were responsible for monitoring the area around us. They were protecting what we’d created, keeping a steady eye on the hardworking people, all of us rallying behind a vision for a safe society amongst a world of the dead.

My attention was drawn to a young man who was pulling carrots from the dark soil in the garden and passing them off to a few children that were running them back and forth to our food storage to be canned. We had found a way to work together. A way to make the best of the hand we’d all been dealt. All of them were worth protecting. Every single one of us.

“Better be careful,” Kyle said with a stern voice.

“Careful about what?”

Pausing for a moment, but still leaning back and staring at the sky, he said, “You don’t want to get a beard-tan.”

Listening to him chuckle under his breath, I couldn’t help but let a long smile grow across my face. He was clearly trying to calm my nerves. At the moment, I really needed the laugh.

“What are you two jerk-offs laughing about?” Mr. Rodgers asked as he walked up behind us. He’d been outside checking on his “little pets” as he liked to call them. Otherwise known as the creatures in the Dead Shed.

Neither of us responded, not wanting to let him in on the joke.

“Fine, don’t give a shit anyway,” he finally sniffed before pulling a lever on his weapon and inspecting the inside of the barrel.

Rodgers had traveled on his own across the landscape for months before he wound up at Avalon. He’d seen many atrocities out there and had stories that we could only half believe most of the time. He often spoke about his daring escapes, from climbing through a series of trees to move above a group of Zs to hiding in a gutter while in the inner city. He’d done it all… or at least said he had.

Anyway we looked at it, he was a hard bastard, having survived on his own for so long, and we respected him for it.

We’d met up with him on a scavenging run. When we found him, he was half-drunk, sitting on the roof of a supermarket. When we first saw him, he was making a game out of throwing empty beer bottles at the creatures below. I heard him calling out the number seventeen when we found him, seventeen being the number of Zs he’d nailed in the head.

With all his problems, we still felt damn lucky to have him with us. He, Kyle, and I had been making these runs together for months, and he was clearly added value to the team. Like a thick callus on a set of worn hands, the crazy bastard grew on us over time, forming a solid layer of protection that we grew to trust. Looking up from his gun, he asked, “Is it just the three of us?”

“Nope, we’re waiting on one more,” Kyle replied, still not turning his face from the sun.

“Who is it?”

Before Kyle could reply, we heard a cough and turned around to see Avalon’s leader, Jarvis, standing behind us. Dressed in the same black body armor that we were wearing—from the original fallen soldiers of Avalon—he held a metal spear in one hand and had an AR-15 semi-automatic machine gun in a sling around his back.

“Here he is,” Kyle finally said as he pulled his face down from the sun’s perch.

Jarvis reached over and shook hands with Kyle. They had become close in the past months, relying on each other to keep the people going. His background continued to remain somewhat of a mystery to all of us. When asked what he did before the end of the world, he would always respond with the same coy answer: “Remind me to tell you later.”

I had often wondered if he ever let Kyle in on his little secret. If he had, Kyle never shared it with me.

When Jarvis first started heading out beyond the wall with us, I questioned his actions. After all, he was our leader. I questioned it in the same way one would question why Captain Kirk would leave his ship to head out on the most dangerous missions when he could easily have sent someone in a red shirt.

Looking back at it, what I’ve finally realized is that our best leaders don’t sit in an ivory tower putting the weight of the world on their people. Our best leaders lead through example, and Jarvis would be the greatest leader Avalon would ever see.

It made perfect sense for the other three to be the ones to head out into the world, scavenging and doing recon. Most of them had some sort of badass military training. All I’d ever done was simply survive. However, I have to say that it suited me. After all, prior to the end of the world, all I was good at was talking on the phone and giving presentations in meetings. Being a superstar in the corporate world doesn’t exactly prepare one for greatness in the world of the dead. It was the blue-collar worker’s skills that reigned supreme. I couldn’t build shit, and I couldn’t cook shit… hell, in this new world, all I was really good for was cleaning shit—and that wasn’t the gig I wanted.

“Listen boys, I need you to know something. We spotted a Jeep across the field yesterday. There were three men in it,” Jarvis said as he pointed out toward the field beyond the concrete walls.

It wasn’t the first-time people had found us. There were survivors out there. However, more often than not, they weren’t stopping by to ask for a cup of sugar.

Looking back at it, humans must have been the first population in the history of any planet where the terms “survival of the fittest” and “natural selection” did not apply. We took care of the weak, designing ways to support those who couldn’t support themselves. The fat got fatter, the lazy got lazier, and the politicians got plenty of votes to ensure the cycle continued.

In most ecosystems, a population will self-correct. They’ll run out of resources, or some sort of a disease will kick in. It was Mother Nature’s little way of keeping things under control.

Man was notably amazing at coming up with ways to dodge these checks and balances. Sure, early on we had our Black Plagues. However, once we got smart enough, we invented medicine and cheap ways to manufacture and deliver food, which kept our seemingly perfect little society on life support for far longer than it ever should have lasted.

In the end, and despite Man’s best efforts, there simply wasn’t anything stopping Mother Nature from doing what she does best; skimming the fat off of the top of the population line. She always seems to have the final say over how many of any species the world will sustain… including Man.

One thing was for absolute sure. She must have been pretty pissed, because that line got knocked almost all the way down to the bottom. Who knows, maybe from the Earth’s perspective, one could argue that Man was the plague infecting the world, and she simply gave herself a nice healthy shot of penicillin.

Either way, in the wake of the apocalypse, she reduced our species to just two types of people. The first were the scared and the feeble who were either lucky enough or smart enough to hunker down and hide. People who fought every day to hold onto the morals and the ways of a society pushed to the brink of extinction.

The second were the psychos and the marauders. People who would do anything it took to make it, no matter what the cost to those around them. They survived by killing and taking, long abandoning any semblance to what made us human in the first place.

The inhabitants of Avalon fell squarely into that first category, and we were in a constant state of alert from all that lived… or didn’t, outside our walls. The undeniable truth was that the term “survival of the fittest” was suddenly back in vogue.

Jarvis continued, “This group has me nervous, boys. It’s been a while since we saw someone just driving around outside our gates. A little too fearless, like they were testing us to see what we’d do.”

“How close did they come?” Kyle asked.

“They stayed on the far side of the field, but they just drove around while we watched them from the tower. Didn’t even try to hide, which is what’s got us nervous,” Jarvis said, turning toward Kyle.

“Do you think it’s anybody we know?” I asked with a slight pitch in my voice.

They all knew what I meant.

Jarvis paused and looked over toward Rodgers, then back toward Kyle and I.

“We don’t know if it’s Gordon or not. He wasn’t in the Jeep, but that doesn’t rule him out.”

Gordon. The bastard who ran Avalon before the revolt. He’d escaped during the mayhem seven months earlier, taking a small army with him. Disappearing behind a shroud of broken lives and a twisted landscape, he hadn’t attacked nor tried to return since, but that made us more anxious than if he had. All we could do was assume that the over-bloated prick was either dead, had moved onto another region… or was patiently waiting for his chance to return.

Nobody knew how he escaped. Last time I had seen him, he was being carried out of the Arena by a mob that looked like they were going to tear him apart…

I wish they had.

Chapter 6

It wasn’t the creatures you could see that worried me… it was the ones that you couldn’t.

Reaching down, Kyle yanked his gear up over his shoulder with a grunt. Following his lead, we grabbed our weapons and followed him toward the front wall. We set out across the Yard with the pace of men on a mission. It was time to get a better sense of what we’d be going up against.

Eyeing the top of the wall, I could see a number of armed men and women standing guard as we approached. On the alert, they were posted to help take down any of the rotting dead if things got out of hand.

They almost always did.

Taking two planks at a time, I followed Kyle up a steep wooden ladder, which led to the open top of the concrete wall facing the field in front of Avalon. Even before I reached the top, I could hear them. Nearly lost in the background like the steady roar of waves on the beach, it was always there—the slow, methodical moaning of the dead.

We’d been making runs every couple of weeks for at least three months. The people, who built Project Greek Island under the Greenbriar Hotel, or what we now called Avalon, had thought of everything. Food, water, air compressors, energy… you name it. However, in the end, it would only last us so long, and we knew we would need to scavenge to ensure our long-term survival. As a result, we had a system for moving in and out.

“When we get back, we’ll need to clear the Yard,” Kyle said as he reached the top.

Catching up, I peered over the side of the wall, looking out at the dead piling over each other.

“Whoa. No shit! We really should have cleared this last week,” I replied, lowering my hands to the concrete.

As I surveyed the Yard full of mangled heads bobbing up and down, one of the creatures caught my eye. He was wearing a grey t-shirt that prominently said:

“Warning: If Zombies Chase Us, I’m Tripping You.”

I remember thinking how crazy we all were before the world went to shit. I’d seen people posting things on Twitter like “Can’t Wait for the Zombie Apocalypse” or “Wish I was a Zombie.”

Guess most of them were probably granted that wish…

We had hundreds of movies, blogs, radio dramas, and books. We all loved them so much. That is, until the day the first zombie actually stood up and took a chunk out of someone’s neck. It’s ironic if you think about the fact that the “zombie” was kinda famous in a way. Not any particular zombie of course. Just the idea of a zombie. Children would walk around with their arms out, begging for “braaaiiins.” Hell, we got to a point where the number of zombies walking the streets on Halloween night would be hanging in there toe-to-toe with the likes of Dracula, the Avengers and the flippin’ Transformers…

It’s funny how that works. How something gets so big so fast. Before mass media, it used to take a lot more to rally people behind a cause. When America was first built, our “famous people” were the ones who made the world better. Inventors, scientists, patriots, warriors… these were whom Americans looked to as leaders… they were the ones we all looked up to. They had last names like Franklin, Washington, and Jefferson. We read about these heroes in history books, learning about them as the people who changed the world. Flash forward a few hundred years… and suddenly, the fastest way to become famous was to post a dimly lit sex tape on the Web.

We’d fallen pretty far from grace.

“We’ll use the siren to get out of here,” Kyle said as he turned back toward the ladder.

“It’s been doing the trick so far,” I said, nodding in agreement.

Before turning to follow him down the ladder, I took one last fleeting look down to the grass waving up at us from the field. It had gotten tall… too tall. There was no telling how many crawlers were out there, lurking around, hidden from sight. It wasn’t the creatures you could see that worried me… it was the ones that you couldn’t. They’d be the tricky bastards that’d get you.

Our four-person team jumped into the yellow Hummer while another four-man team pulled themselves up into a pickup that was outfitted with a large caliber machine gun bolted down in the truck bed. The weapon was great for protection against the living, but not nearly as useful against the dead. Even the most skilled gunner would find it too hard to aim with any real precision, making it nearly impossible to hit the brain… on purpose anyway.

The pickup held three men in the cabin. They were all Hispanic and roughly five foot four in height. I think they were brothers, but couldn’t understand a damn thing they said. Each of them carried a blade that rested in a black sheath across their chest. I’d seen them take out more creatures with those knives than any other man with a full-on automatic machine gun.

The Three Amigos were accompanied by a guy who had the best mullet that I’d ever seen in my life. It blew in the wind across his shoulders while the trucker hat atop his head kept the bangs out of his eyes. He seemed to have a permanent mark on the right side of his lower lip, where he’d spent the majority of his life with a fist full of tobacco hidden. He manned the turret in the bed of the pickup and was clearly the right man for the job, having been a gunner in one of those military-style, armor-platted Hummers when he was based in Iraq. I had heard Kyle refer to him as a Whiskey Tango one time. When I asked him about that, he told me it was a military code for W.T. or white trash.

Hanging his arm out the passenger side door, Kyle gave the signal to a scout on the cement wall, who in turn stepped carefully over to a small gray box bolted to the cement. Lifting the cover, he revealed a red button, which he slid his hand over before looking over his shoulder back at Kyle.

As I gripped the steering wheel with a set of clammy hands, my eyes fell directly on the metal-reinforced school bus serving as the gate to Avalon. Rising in my seat as I forced a deep breath of air into my tightening chest, my thoughts were on Tyler. This would all be for him, and I knew I had to be strong for both of us. Everything counted on it.

A loud siren, perched on a tree in the far left side of the field outside the wall, shattered the silence as the scout pushed on the button. The Zs loved noise. This was a trick we’d used many times before. The siren would attract the dead away from our walls and over to the far side of the field. Once the Yard was clear, or as clear as we could get it, we’d roll out the front gate.

A movement in the guard tower up above caught my attention as a man holding a long sniper rifle leaned in, getting ready to play God. He’d be watching from above, deciding what lived and what died.

Looking in the rearview mirror, I could make out the Three Amigos. The one in the driver’s seat lifted his arm, holding two fingers out, and shook it back and forth toward the gate, signaling that they were ready.

A silent hush fell within the walls of Avalon as the driver of the bus, an older man with a long white ponytail, threw a “thumbs up” toward us. Known to me only as Mr. Gate, I’d never had a proper conversation with the man. Although I’d certainly seen that same familiar thumb thrown up toward me countless times before. The thing about his thumb was that it was the only finger he had left on that hand. The rest had been torn off in some sort of accident. It was as if he enjoyed the look on our faces as he flashed the damn thing at us. Maybe an old man’s sick sense of humor. Maybe he was just using what he had available to him. Either way, it still turned my stomach.

The bus started up, the engine roaring a hair louder than any of us was comfortable with, as he slid it into gear and pulled forward, exposing the outside of the compound. With my white knuckles gripping the wheel, I hesitantly lifted my foot off the brake and pulled forward through the narrow exit. Even above the sound of the siren, I could hear my own heartbeat as our companions pulled out behind us and Mr. Gate quickly reversed the bus, covering our only real entrance back into Avalon.

We were officially cut off.

With my eyes drawn toward the horde of the dead, who were clawing the bark off the tree that the siren was screaming from, I stepped on the accelerator, pulling through the long waving grass in the field ahead. Even over the rumble of our engine, I could hear the crackling of the brittle blades of grass, dry from the lack of rain over the past weeks, as they were crushed by the tires below. I found myself trying to see through the green brush, watching for any creatures still lurking within its perfect camouflage.

A broken-down, blown-to-hell car rested lifelessly at the edge of the field. Lifting my eyes from the grass, I honed in on it as we approached. Less than a month earlier, we were forced to fill it full of bullet holes when a small band of, let’s just say “unfriendly people” decided to mount an attack on Avalon when we wouldn’t let them into our gates. It was increasingly difficult to know who was friend and who was foe out there.

We’d reached the point where, for the safety of everybody inside, we always had to assume we were coming across the latter.

The idea of humans fighting humans was bizarre to me. There weren’t enough of us left to be killing each other. The real enemy didn’t have a heartbeat. Luckily, I’d been able to hold onto the vision that Jarvis had set out for us. Preserve life, avoid conflict when possible. I’m not saying I’ve never shot toward someone. I’m just saying that the only thing I’ve ever killed at that point was a shit load of zombies… and a bird that ran into my windshield while driving to work one day a few years earlier.

A small group of intruders was easy to fight off, but we were always concerned about the time when someone picked a fight with us that we knew we wouldn’t be able to win. Kyle had led the defense preparation, and we had a whole slew of what he called “countermeasures” set up to protect our little world. The creatures collected in the Dead Shed outside the wall were just the tip of the iceberg.

With the grass from the field starting to get shorter, we were just yards away from the tree line, split in two by a narrow road that we used to come and go. Passing by the broken-down car, I heard Jarvis let out a small sigh of relief. Completely entranced by the siren, not one creature clawing at the tree out there had so much as glanced our way.

His celebration was a bit premature.

A sudden but loud crack boomed from behind us. Twisting our heads back toward the cement walls, just in time to hear another go off, I heard Kyle yell, “Muzzle flash from the guard tower!”

Spinning my head around, I manically shifted my focus from mirror to mirror while trying to push the Hummer to outpace whatever the hell God was firing at.

“It’s the pickup… there’s two of them crawling up into the bed of the pickup!” I heard Rodgers call out.

Another boom and a crack as I turned to see paint chipping off the rear of the truck, the shot just narrowly missing Mr. Mullet, who was on his feet kicking at one of the creatures. The Z grabbing at Mr. Mullet’s leg wore once-white baseball pants, which were now covered in enough gore to match his red baseball jersey.

Unable to do a damn thing as the creature opened its mouth, preparing to come down hard on Mr. Mullet’s leg, I jumped in my seat as a blackish-pink mist shot out around the monster’s head, blowing a brain dripping hole the size of an orange through its face. An instant later, the delayed sound of the sniper rifle cracked in the wind.

Hell of a home run, I thought.

Mr. Mullet swiveled over toward the right-hand side of the truck where the second creature was pulling itself into the bed of the pickup. He had a small pistol drawn and was unloading it in the direction of the Z. Blood splatter exploded out of the creature’s torso, but between the bouncing truck and the panic in Mr. Mullet’s eyes, not one shot caught the damn thing in the head.

Kyle grunted as he twisted his broad shoulders around in the Hummer, trying to figure out how to pull himself out the window. As he looked down at the handle to his door, I could tell what he was getting ready to do.

Mr. Mullet had steadied himself on the turret, which was basically useless in close quarter combat, and defiantly faced off against the creature and its piercing red eyes.

“Holy shit!” I cried out, stopping Kyle from pulling the door handle. Turning back, he followed my stupefied gaze just as one of the Three Amigos emerged from the right-hand passenger window, held tightly by one of his brothers from inside the cab.

With his blade already drawn, I hardly saw the movement as he thrust it forward, severing one hand from the creature’s grotesque arms straight off. Blackish-red blood spit out of the stump, splashing across and around Mr. Mullet’s worn blue jeans into the bed of the truck. Then, with the grace of a surgeon, the Amigo waved his instrument of death upward toward the falling body of the creature, driving the blade deep into its skull. Kyle turned back to the front window as the creature dropped from the side of the truck like a lifeless anchor, rolling to its final resting spot hidden within the broken grass below.

Mr. Mullet dropped to his knees, splashing up some of the gore covering the truck bed, before pulling his hands to his forehead, while the Amigos returned to their seats in the comfort of the truck… all the while never so much as tapping the brakes. Looking in the rearview mirror, I watched as Mr. Mullet pulled his trucker cap off, with his mullet gracefully flowing in the wind, and waved it toward God.

Nothing ever went as planned outside the gate, and sadly, this wouldn’t be the last time we’d have to face off against an enemy out there.

Moments later, the Hummer’s CB radio zipped to life with a rapid-fire string of the most intense Spanish words I can honestly say I’ve ever heard spoken. Kyle picked up the radio, looking around the cab to each of us. He let out a huff, knowing we were useless when it came to the language. Pulling the mic to his face, he said, “Yes, si. Just follow us. Si.”

Whatever they’d said, that response seemed to quiet them down.

In another twenty feet, I felt the tires below smooth out as we passed from the field to the overgrown, paved road. Letting out my own deep sigh of relief, I immediately saw that the path was devoid of any Zs. Plowing forward, the blood slowly returned to my knuckles as I loosened my grip on the steering wheel.

Glancing to the dashboard, my eyes fell on the digital clock built into the navigation unit. Gritting my teeth, I knew it wouldn’t be long before that phlegm-filled cough crept into Tyler’s young lungs, and I wouldn’t be there to make it better.

Pushing the pedal to the floor mat, listening to the Hummer’s engine roar to life, I couldn’t help but think ahead to our destination. Rodgers had better be right about it. He’d better be sure that what we needed was there.

My son’s life depended on it.

Chapter 7

Seems like there really aren’t any “good” sides anymore.

Prior to the Apocalypse, White Sulfur Springs was a fairly small town with a population of just over two thousand residents. Not rich, but far from poor, this quaint little area nestled near the border of West Virginia, and Virginia was what we now directionally called home. With Avalon resting on the edge of town, we’d spent a fair amount of time in those first months scavenging through its limited stores and going door-to-door to raid the houses and trailers that filled the landscape. I got to know the area pretty well, and aside from the Zs, I found myself thinking it would have been a nice enough place to raise Tyler.

However, we soon found that we’d need to expand beyond our immediate area if we were going to truly bulk up on supplies, food, and medicine. The nearby town of Lewisburg wound up being far more fruitful. Not as small and quaint, but still manageable, it was home to the Greenbriar Valley Medical Center, which sadly, had long since been looted by the time our team got there all those months ago. This, too, was a nice enough town, and luckily we did find plenty of supplies in and around its boundaries.

The good news was that during all those initial runs, we’d found a decent supply of medicine. The bad news, it all went up in smoke during the fire.

In more recent months, we’d extended our scavenging runs to the closest major city, Roanoke, Virginia, at just eighty-one miles away. Roanoke was a sizable metropolitan area with a large population that nearly topped one hundred thousand people before the end of the world.

It was Roanoke that first taught us that any sort of major city not completely destroyed in those initial weeks had turned out to be a hotbed for the dead. For some reason, the creatures simply stayed put, lumbering around the streets, buildings, and stores. Maybe trying to go on like they did, with some sort of primal need to consume, or maybe they just lacked in the mental ability to find their way out. Either way, we learned to avoid those high-rise tombs.

That left us with very few options in terms of scavenging in those days. Our best bets were on hitting other small towns, or at least the outlying homes of small towns. The problem was that we’d found ourselves having to go further and further away from White Sulfur Springs, making each run that much more dangerous. With seven months since things stopped being made, manufactured, and processed… well, let’s just say it was slim pickings out there.

Perhaps that’s why we were so open to the idea, the thought of medical supplies still being available in that so-called Safe Zone. These designated safety areas that the government set up for people to seek refuge in during the initial weeks of the outbreak had proven to be filled with supplies in past runs. Seemed that those places were overly outfitted to help fight whatever emergency they could think of… aside from the dead suddenly rising, of course. The ones we’d found in the past would often be untouched by the outside world. Mostly because they would still be filled to the brim with Zs, those undead watchdogs, keeping any precious supplies safe within the walls.

Sure, we’d still have to cut through the Zs that would be roaming around inside, but these days that seemed to come with the territory. With our preparations, we had the right men and enough ammunition to bust through… at least we thought.

I’m not saying we believed it would be easy, but we’d done it before, and it looked like we’d be doing it again.

It was Rodgers that suggested the old middle school where he’d substituted. It had been designated as one of these Safe Zones. Near the town of Rainelle, West Virginia, the school itself was on the outskirts of town. That particular destination appealed to us because it was far enough from the city, which was pretty small, and secluded enough to be accessible without having to put up with much of a fight on our way there. We hadn’t hit it up in the past because it was pretty far away, and frankly, we had plenty of medical supplies leading up to that day.

According to Rodgers, last he’d seen it, the middle school had chains on the doors holding an unknown number of the dead inside. This wasn’t uncommon, as I’d later find out. Evidently before the government officials bugged out they would lock the doors, telling the Safe Zone’s temporary inhabitants that they’d come back with help.

Guess we know how that turned out for them.

Rodgers had given us the address to the old school, and our navigation was set with a course that told us it was forty-two miles away. As we drove through the overgrown landscape, he seemed to know the course, calling out landmarks as we went along.

Trying to avoid the dead on the trek out there was nearly impossible. However, most of them were now slow and simply staggered along. As the dead aged, their bodies continued to deteriorate. The Zs that had been around since the beginning were always easy to spot. Those monsters seemed to be decomposing from the inside out. They’d often be missing most of their skin, with only tight muscle tissue holding them together under whatever ratty clothing would be hanging loosely on their bodies. On the flip side of that coin, if we ever saw faster Zs, showing fewer signs of decomposition, we always knew that some poor bastards had just been overrun.

There was much speculation about why the creatures appeared faster when they were fresh. They weren’t exactly Carl Lewis, but hell, they seemed pretty fucking fast when they charged at you displaying a mouth full of pearly whites.

To some, they might almost seem stronger than they were when they were human. My opinion at this point is that humans have limits set by their minds. The brain won’t let someone run too long without a break. The mind won’t let you lift something that it knows you shouldn’t. These things… these creatures were devoid of thought. Their minds were gone, and with the absence of limits, a body had the natural ability to push itself harder and faster.

Either way, we tried like hell to avoid anything with more than a hobbled limp while outside the walls. If any of them saw you, slow or fast, they would be sure to follow you until their last step. We didn’t need that kind of trouble.

Letting my mind drift as we passed a creature pulling itself along the road on all fours, my attention was drawn to our surroundings and how much they’d changed. I couldn’t help but realize that the world outside of Avalon had been taken back by Mother Earth. Grass was growing up the sides of the houses it had once pristinely sat around. Trees, once trim and beautiful alongside the roads, now grew across the sky, blocking the clouds… and the sunlight. Everything seemed darker.

Perfect atmosphere to scare the shit out of anyone, day or night.

The roads were covered in dirt and moss. It was getting harder and harder to see them each time we left the compound. I found myself thinking about the fact that it wouldn’t be too long before that bitch, Mother Earth, would swallow this area whole, much like shaking an Etch A Sketch, erasing all that man had built. Would there be any part of modern society that survived? Surely, some part of the world still existed like it used to.

Breaking the silence, and my concentration, I nearly veered off the road when the CB radio squelched to life before a woman’s voice spoke.

“Iron Eagle, Iron Eagle, this is King’s Landing, you out there? Over.”

I recognized the voice. So did Kyle. He looked over at me with a smirk across his face while picking up the microphone.

“Hey baby, yeah, I’m here.”

Her name was Mia. She’d also fought alongside Kyle and me in the Arena. Thinking back to the battle that fateful day, there was a spark that had been lit between the two of them. I remember seeing what I can only describe as an under the surface sync they shared while destroying wave after wave of the Zs. A natural connection, the hardest in life to find. I’ve often thought that, in this world, maybe that’s how true warriors fall in love… in the heat of battle.

Something about the arena, the end of the world, or maybe just loneliness pulled them together. The way Kyle’s eyes lit up when she walked into the room told me how he really felt about her… no matter whether he’d admit it to me or even himself.

“I’ll be here by the radio, making sure we keep solid contact,” Mia said.

“Is that all you radioed to tell me?” Kyle said, still smirking.

When she didn’t respond immediately, Kyle’s face grew more serious as he realized that wasn’t the response she was looking for.

“Listen, we’ll be back by sundown. I don’t think you’ll even know I’m gone,” he quickly continued. He knew that was bullshit. She had that same look in her eyes when they were together.

“Well, get that ass of yours back here safe.”

At this, Kyle smiled and simply replied, “Will do, Mia. You can count on it.”

She then turned her attention to me. “John, you better not let anything happen to that man. No heroic chances…”

The Hummer’s wheels jounced up and down as we ran through a pothole, shaking us back and forth in the truck before Kyle held the mic toward my face. “You can count on it. This is an easy run. We’ll be back before you know it,” I tried to say confidently, knowing I was lying through my teeth.

“Sure… these runs are always no problem,” she replied with a notable hint of sarcasm.

Changing the subject, I asked, “Is everything cleared up from the fire? Any new revelations about how it started?”

“We have a team on it now. The fridge causing the fire is still the ongoing theory. I’ll radio when we know more. Over.”

“OK, thanks Mia. Can you do me a favor and check in on Tyler from time to time? I’m sure Deanna could use the company, and I’d like to know if anything has changed with his health.”

“No problem, John. I’d be happy to check in on that little munchkin.”

Turning her attention back to Kyle, she spoke once more. “I’m not kidding, Kyle. Get your ass back here by sundown, or I’ll be coming out after you.”

“We have to be back soon, no other option. I’ll be seeing you when we return. Over and out,” Kyle responded.

Then the radio went silent.

Rolling over another small tree limb that had fallen across the road, we all bumped up and down in the truck. Jarvis pulled his head away from the window and looked up front toward Kyle and me. “We gotta watch out for people out here, boys. I can’t shake that feeling I got from the Jeep yesterday. Let’s stay sharp. I don’t think they’re one of the good guys, if you know what I mean.”

Fun time was over.

Rodgers shifted his shoulders toward Jarvis, raising his eyebrows before asking, “Who are the good guys, really? Are we the good guys?”

Every once in a while, Rodgers liked to let out his inner teacher. He’d challenge those around him, as if he were speaking to his students, with some sort of provocative topic that always got you thinking. The discussions would always be a reminder that there was more to his brute ready for battle external demeanor than met the naked eye.

Resting an arm on the seat in front of him, and turning to Rodgers, Jarvis responded, “I like to think so. We help people; we protect Avalon.” He was noticeably taken back by the question.

“Yeah, but are we the good guys? Who’s to say we’re good, and others are bad,” Rodgers countered. “I mean, in the end, history is always written by the victor. Doesn’t matter if he was right or wrong.”

“I don’t follow what you mean,” Kyle chimed in.

“Well, we’re all out here trying to survive. Doesn’t everybody feel like they’re on the ‘good side’? I’m just saying, I’ll bet there are a bunch of little communities out there that all think they’re the good guys.”

“That may be true, Rodgers,” Jarvis said while looking back out the window. “I can say one thing though, if you’re on our side, you’re not trying to take from others. We’ve had so many people who show up on our doorstep trying to take from us. Are we bad because we don’t let them?”

Rodgers simply replied, “Don’t know, Jarvis, seems like there really aren’t any ‘good’ sides anymore.”

Looking back at that conversation, he may have been right.

Chapter 8

My first instincts were that this was a lucky break.

We made quick work of the forty-two miles between Avalon and our final destination, and before we knew it, the overgrown walls of the elementary school were in sight. Driving around a dry and brittle rotten tree that had collapsed across what was left of the road leading up to the school, we put the Hummer into four-wheel drive to pull ourselves up the winding path.

I could hear the pickup behind us shifting into gear just as we came into the parking lot in front of the school. Quickly surveying the area, we saw a handful of creatures stumbling through tall, flourishing weeds that had managed to sprout from between the cracks of the unkempt black pavement.

We pulled past a basketball post with a rusted metal hoop and strings dangling from a half-broken backboard. My eyes landed on what remained of an aged white tent as a loose flap slapped back and forth in the wind. The tent had black spots of mold multiplying over a prominently displayed red cross that sat along a set of crippled plastic doors.

“Looks like a medical tent,” Kyle whispered, as if something was listening in the distance.

“Whatever it is, it’s long since been abandoned,” Jarvis said, peering out of the passenger side window.

Parking the Hummer, we waited until the pickup pulled up next to us. Mr. Mullet was already hopping out of the passenger seat, which he’d crammed himself into after the field incident, and up into the bed of the pickup. After briefly glancing down at the dried pool of blood at his feet, he yanked a lever on the weapon turret and pointed the barrel directly toward the front door of the school.

I reached down to place my hand on the hammer resting firmly in my belt. The sky was bright, but this place had a darkness that was clawing at my skin. Something horrible had happened here.

“You were right…” I finally let slip from my mouth, nodding over toward Rodgers.

Kyle and I had made a conscious decision to avoid places like this in the first weeks of the apocalypse. We’d heard radio broadcasts telling people to head to designated areas for food and safety. At the time, we’d figured these “Safe Zones” would just wind up being a giant meat grinder, churning up the masses for the dead to sink their teeth into. By the looks of this place now, I feared that we were once again right.

Not taking his eyes off the school, Kyle said, “No telling what’s still left stumbling around behind those walls.”

“Where did you say the medical supplies are located?” I asked, looking back at Rodgers.

“My guess is the nurse’s office… but I haven’t been inside, so we may have to do some digging.”

There was something off about Rodgers. He sat there, bouncing his oversized glove across his leg. Maybe his face was a shade paler, or his eyes were slightly wider. Either way, I hadn’t seen Rodgers look this anxious or worried before. He, usually, just had two emotions: Happy and rage. This new look on his face set my mind racing as I realized that we’d have a hell of a fight ahead of us if this place were anything like the last Safe Zone we’d encountered.

With a clear sense of alarm shadowing his face, Kyle jolted forward, propping himself up in the seat to get a better view, fixing his eyes on the front entrance to the building.

“What? What do you see?” I asked, squinting my eyes, trying to find what had him spooked.

Lifting his arm, Kyle pointed toward the front door of the school. “Look, the door is open a crack. It looks like the chain that was holding it shut has been cut…”

“Is that blood?” Jarvis said as he squinted his eyes and leaned closer to the window.

There was what appeared to be a dark red liquid running down the sidewalk leading up to the school. From the distance, I could also see some of the windows were busted in, and what looked to be bullet holes chipped into the brick surrounding the front door.

“What the hell happened here?” Rodgers spoke the question that burned in all of our minds. His oversized glove continued to rattle atop his leg.

Jarvis lifted his hand over to the door lock and pulled it up. “Let’s make this quick, boys. In and out.”

“Extreme caution. No one rushes in. Let’s make sure that there’s nobody else here… dead or living,” Kyle added sternly before yanking his door latch and moving out onto the step guard of the Hummer.

Looking over his shoulder, he signaled to the three men still sitting in the pickup behind us and pointed over toward the small swarm of creatures that were slowly lumbering toward our vehicles. “Take care of that. Make it quiet,” Kyle loudly whispered.

I watched as the Three Amigos hopped out of the doors of their pickup, knives in hand. They moved in on the handful of rotting dead, which had clearly been stumbling for quite some time. In just moments, the Zs had puncture holes in their skulls, dark black brain matter spilling out over the cracked pavement.

A stain. It’s all that’s left of us when we’re gone.

Weapons drawn; Kyle, Jarvis, Rodgers, and I were now out of the car as well, cautiously moving toward the school. Looking back at the second team, Kyle held his hand out in a fist and pointed back toward our rides. The three of them scurried over to join Mr. Mullet as lookouts—prepared for anything. They had our backs, and we were trusting them with our lives.

Looking back on it, I wish we could have promised them the same.

The world around us was silent. Each step we took toward the front door echoed off the school’s brick walls. Keeping my eyes locked on the broken-in front door as we approached, I raised my arm to wipe a bead of rolling sweat from my brow. My hands were slightly shaking as the fear of the unknown slowly crept up my spine, one vertebrae at a time.

Mostly brick with white trim running around the flat roof, the school was not unlike the one that I’d attended as a child. It seems like they all look like that for some reason. I never really was one much for school, especially as a child. I get the need to learn, but stuffing a bunch of kids into a room, expecting them to sit still and quite all day, seemed like it was going against a child’s very nature. Hell, I could hardly do it as an adult. A small part of me thought back to the second grade teacher I’d had. That bloated bitch always found a reason to send me to the principal’s office. I’m sure I deserved it, but trust me, I wouldn’t exactly choke up if I learned she was stuck in a school someplace, roaming the halls as a Z… forever.

Kyle was the first to reach the broken door. Looking toward Jarvis, who nodded, and then back toward me, he lifted his foot out and hooked the inside of the door, sliding it open. Feeling my shoulders arch up as the rusted hinges creaked open, all three of us took a step back, lifting our weapons and aiming them steadily down the dimly lit halls of the building.

I nearly dropped my rifle as my eyes adjusted to the darkness. Hit with the scent of burnt flesh as we stepped closer, I quickly noticed six neatly stacked piles of rotting corpses, each six or seven Zs deep. All of them were oozing that familiar black gunk across the linoleum.

My foot slid across a few bullet casings that were riddled throughout the hallway. To the right of the entrance, an ashy burn mark ran up the full length of the wall, starting from the charred skeletal remains of a creature that had most its flesh melted off.

Everything in the place remained dead silent.

“Someone’s already cleared this place out, boys,” Jarvis said with a cautious optimism.

“And it’s been within the past twenty-four hours,” Kyle whispered as he slid his foot through the slick black bile while keeping his firearm pointed straight down the hall.

Jarvis looked at Kyle, paused, pulled in a deep breath and then slowly slid his boot through the doorway.

My first instincts were that this was a lucky break. At least, we wouldn’t have to bust through the army of Zs that obviously lurked in the hallways of this school. Someone else had already done the job for us.

“Let’s make this quick. I’ve got a shitty feeling in my gut. Why the hell would someone have done this?” Kyle finally spoke up.

“Maybe whoever did this needed something in the school like we do. Hell, this is what it would have looked like if we had to clear this place out,” Rodgers said while kicking at a creature’s lifeless arm on the ground in front of him.

I just hoped they weren’t looking for meds.

“Could be, but it’s not sitting well with me. Let’s get this shit quick,” Kyle replied.

Jarvis lowered his spear and nodded toward Rodgers. “You’re with me.” Then he looked over toward Kyle and me. “I want you to hit the roof. Get eyes on our surroundings.”

I started to protest when Jarvis cut in. “I need your head straight, John, no rushing through the dark. I know what I’m looking for, and I’ll signal to you as soon we have it.”

Thinking for a moment, I looked over to Kyle, who nodded his head before saying, “Jarvis will get it. Let’s you and I make sure we don’t have any problems getting out of here once he does.”

Biting on my lower lip, I looked down the hallway toward the piles of the dead. Being outside where the air was fresh would be a welcome relief. Besides, I did trust Jarvis, and I knew he’d get what we needed.

Splitting ways, Kyle and I stepped through the gore-covered linoleum floors, heading toward a rectangular white sign which read “Exit” about midway down the hallway. As we moved through the hall, I realized that there was no rhyme or reason to this group of creatures. Old, young, male, female… they were all people from different strokes of life looking for someone to save them. They had been horribly led astray.

The exit sign had a door sitting beneath it, with another set of severed chains hanging loosely from the handle. Peering through the cracked but re-enforced glass, I could make out a near pitch-black staircase heading up.

As we crept up each stair through the darkness, visions of some unseen creature patiently waiting in the shadows danced around my mind. With my whole body inadvertently tensing up, as each boot squeaked across the next step ahead, I couldn’t help but leap up two steps at time as our accent came to an end.

Bursting through the door at the top of the staircase, I found myself standing on gravel as my eyes re-adjusted to the sunlight on the exposed roof. The entire thing was covered in small white rock chips, clearly used to cover the melting black tar spread across the whole of the roof. Pulling my fists tight, I flinched as each step forward crunched into the open air as if we were stepping across a sea of fortune cookies.

Kyle nodded to me before taking off to the far side of the building to survey our surroundings while I moved toward the drop-off directly in front of us.

Digging my nails into my rifle, I edged toward the two-story drop. My eyes almost immediately landed on the waving arms of a creature plopped down against the far wall across from where I was perched. Ducking down a bit, I first thought the damn thing was pointing toward me, trying to signal that there was a bite-sized snack up on the roof.

Cursing myself for being caught, once again, on a goddamned roof, I squinted to get a better look at the courtyard. Not finding any other creatures below, my eyes fell on a double barrel shotgun lying just feet from the Z. Looking more closely at the creature slumped against the wall, I winced as I realized it very clearly had a hole blown through its stomach.

The pebbles below me cracked in place as I slid slightly closer to the edge of the building. Leaning forward a bit, I could just barely make out that its arms were twisting around its body in a circling motion, moving back and forth from its missing stomach to its head.

Lifting the rifle to my face, I peered down the scope on the weapon to get a little more up-close-and-personal with the thing. Leveling the sight on its head, I watched in horror as I realized what the monster was doing. It was lying there, perfectly content, shoveling chunks of regurgitated flesh into its mouth, only to have them pushed down its throat and out the cavity that used to be its stomach. Then it was reaching down, grabbing the same chunks of meat, and shovel them back into its lifeless jaws again.

Feeling a bit of vomit hit the back of my throat; I slid my index finger toward the trigger. Taking a deep breath, I lifted the barrel slightly to move the crosshairs along the gray flesh left on its forehead. Its hair had all but fallen out, and a dark cavity was all that remained in place of an eye that had long ago been plucked from its mangled face. I found it slightly amazing that I could get sick after everything I’d seen. Guess that means I still actually felt something back then.

“I wouldn’t do that,” Kyle whispered, walking up behind me. “We don’t want to draw their attention just yet. Besides, you’re an awful shot…”

Exhaling the deep breath, I’d been holding for too long, I blinked my eyes, lowered the rifle, and turned around to see him grinning at me.

Deciding he was right, but not wanting to acknowledge it, I shifted my shoulders while reaching into a side pocket on my vest. Pulling out my cell phone, I slid the unlock feature on the screen and pulled it to my face to see the time. We’d already been gone for hours. Time was slipping away like specks of sand through an hourglass. Looking past my phone, blankly staring at the white pebbles on the roof, I found myself simply hoping that there would be enough specks for us to get home.

Glancing at my phone, Kyle asked, “Why do you carry that thing… waiting for cell service to flip back on?”

“It’s my only clock. I don’t have an old-ass wristwatch like you.”

Like so many others before the apocalypse, I’d had my face constantly plastered to the thing. I’d be more panicked if I left the house without my phone than my wallet. Of course, now it didn’t have cell service or Internet access. Yet, there I was, still tethered to the damn thing.

I once read that amputees often experience what they call “phantom sensations” in their lost appendages. Better put, they continue to feel pain in an arm or leg that has been removed as if it was still there. In the same sense, I couldn’t help but tap on the email or browser apps from time-to-time… searching for a sensation of normalcy that had long ago been torn away.

However, I did have a few other valid reasons for carting it around, but I didn’t want to bring up the fact that the hard drive also contained the last remaining pictures of my wife. My wife.

Continuing, I dug my foot into the pebbles and said, “Besides, it’s got a compass and a few apps that still work just fine. Don’t know what the hell I’d do without Angry Birds.”

Nodding toward me, Kyle replied, “Gotcha, that makes sense…” then with a fake scowl, he asked, “Now why would you go pick on my old-ass watch?”

“Don’t know, guess it’s just kinda out of place on you.”

He paused for a moment and lifted the watch, still on his wrist, toward the sky. “Yeah, I guess it is. I like to think of it as vintage.” Lowering his arm, he brushed the scratched faceplate with his thumb and continued, “Old thing was actually my grandfather’s.”

Sliding the cell phone back into my vest pocket, I leaned in to look a little closer at the rust growing across the golden casing and worn leather band, cocking my head sideways. Kyle saw I was curious for more.

“When he gave me this watch, he told me he wore it because it reminded him of where he came from. That proud old man grew up on a farm. Humble beginning for sure. Told me that he saved up forever as a child to buy it.” Kyle paused and smiled slightly as if thinking back to a memory or a conversation that had happened long ago.

“My grandfather eventually broke away from the farm… building a small empire. Old bugger was a genius when it came to finances, but I can honestly say he never let it get to his head. He wore this old thing until just about the end. Seeing how his son, my father, turned out, I think he wanted it to be the same reminder to me… that money doesn’t make you special. You’re not suddenly someone different because you have a few extra bucks in the bank.”

Thinking of the fact that Kyle probably could have lived the easy life instead of heading off to the Army, I couldn’t help but admire the guy. I can’t say I would have done the same thing before the world went to shit. Thinking of Tyler, I could only hope that I’d be able to impart the right lessons about what was really important in this new life now.

A squelch from the radio on my shoulder sounded before I could hear Jarvis. Raising my eyebrows, I waiting in anticipation. It was time to find out if this trip was worth it.

“John, I wanted to let you know we’ve hit the nurse’s office, and it’s a gold mine. Everything we need is here.”

Looking up at the sky, I slowly nodded my head and double checked. “They have the right meds?”

“Yes, boys, and plenty of them. I’ve got the pack filled up. Meet us up front in two minutes!”

Feeling like a boulder had been lifted off my chest, I looked up at Kyle. My face must have radiated relief.

However, his face looked grimmer. Things changed so quickly in this world…

The hair on the back of my neck spiked as, out of the corner of my eye, I saw a movement at the edge of the building across from the creature playing the human recycling game.

Looking out across the building, Kyle perked up and asked, “Do you see that?”

Blinking to make sure I saw what I thought I did, I leaned forward to see the giant, rounded torso of a fat man’s body lying on the ground, shaking violently. Even from the distance, I could see the wiggle of its half-eaten love handles. Its legs were not visible. They were hidden behind the corner of the wall.

“Was that there before?” I asked.

Lifting my rifle and focusing my scope down on the corner of the building, I could see a number of rotting arms reaching from behind the wall and tearing into that Thanksgiving Day feast of a man. The gore from his stomach was spread across the grass-filled playground just to their right, a lost reminder of the youthful bliss that once decorated this school.

“I didn’t see it before…” Kyle said as he quietly ducked.

Following his cue, I sank down the rooftop. It took me a moment before I noticed Kyle’s eyebrows had arched down. He was looking all around as if trying to find some piece of evidence to prove his hunch was right.

“Whoever shot up this place, just did it. Those Zs would have made mincemeat of that guy by now if this happened longer than an hour ago,” he finally whispered.

“Shit,” I replied in an equally low voice as I realized what that meant.

In the same instant, a crack of gunfire tore me from the revelation, dropping my heart into my stomach. I already knew who it was. We heard the unmistakable noise from the weapon turret atop the pickup. Mr. Mullet sure as hell wouldn’t be blasting the dead with that thing… which meant we had company.

Chapter 9

Sometimes pawns are sacrificed. Sometimes they are just enough to change the game.

For a moment, the deafening cry of the firefight rattled through the air. There were shouts and screams, and then the turret gun went silent, putting an end to the fight which was over as quickly as it had started.

I could already smell the discharged remnants of burnt gunpowder filling the air as Kyle and I darted across the roof toward the side facing the parking lot. Sliding into place at the edge, just out of sight, I watched as a few of the pebbles were pushed over the side. Holding my breath and digging my head into my arms, I found myself waiting for whatever or whoever was below to hear the noise.

Opening my eyes and slowly letting the deep breath out, I realized that if anybody had heard the rocks clatter across the ground, they hadn’t thought to look up. Lifting my head, I followed Kyle’s gaze down to the parking lot. A group of twenty or so men, all holding large firearms, was surrounding Mr. Mullet and the Three Amigos. Our friends were still alive. However, I felt my teeth grind together as I realized that Mr. Mullet had what appeared to be a bullet wound through the side of his stomach.

Blood dripped down his leg, pooling up into a sticky mess below his knees which were firmly planted on the pavement. He said something to the guy standing above him. I couldn’t quite make it out, but I guess the guy didn’t wholeheartedly agree with Mr. Mullet. Lifting a black machine-gun above his head, the guy swung it down, slamming the butt of his gun into Mr. Mullet’s chest, causing blood to burst from his mouth as he pulled himself back up in an attempt at defiance.

The Three Amigos, lined up on their knees next to him, started to jump up at the hostile act, but soon settled down as twenty of their new best friends all lifted their weapons in unison and aimed directly at them.

There were a number of vehicles circled around our Hummer and the pickup. These guys had been waiting for us. I found my mind racing to try to figure out why. That is until that son-of-a-bitch stepped out of his very own Escalade SUV.

At first, I couldn’t believe it, but there he was. Mind spinning, my eyes went wide as I realized it was Gordon Green standing there dressed in a red turtleneck covered by a black military-style jacket. He wore a matching red beret that covered a closely shaven head. He was confident but darker looking than I remembered. My hand was clutched around my rifle, and for just a moment, I had the urge to take a shot.

I wish I had…

Glancing at Kyle, I could see the anger building in his now red face. He shot me a look and mouthed the words “What the fuck” before we both turned our attention back down to the parking lot.

As Gordon began heading toward our friends, I noticed the cane that accompanied his right hand. Each step came down on the concrete with a subtle click that could be heard even from our perch.

Everybody was quiet as he stepped around Mr. Mullet to face the four men on their knees. He didn’t say anything at first, as he simply marched in front of them and stopped, lifting his cane up toward Mr. Mullet’s head.

“One of these things is not like the other,” Gordon shouted out to a roar of laughter from his men. “You’re not looking so good,” he said, making eye contact with Mr. Mullet.

Mr. Mullet pulled in a big honking swig of blood and spit it out toward Gordon’s cane.

“That wasn’t such a hot idea, my friend.” Gordon said, without alarm, as he wiped the blood covering the end his cane across Mr. Mullet’s shoulder.

He then nodded to a hulk of a man standing behind Mr. Mullet, who stomped forward and threw what looked like a reinforced dog catcher collar, attached to a pole, over Mr. Mullet’s head, locking it in place firmly around his neck.

One of the other Amigos tried to stand up in protest, but took a butt of a gun across his forehead, causing a gash to split open and pour a wash of blood into his eyes.

I heard the gravel rustling under Kyle, and looked over to see him sliding his gun into his shoulder, pointing it directly toward Gordon.

A shift in the shadows caught my attention down by the front door. I couldn’t completely make out Jarvis and Rodgers lurking in the darkness, but I did manage to see the muzzle of the AR-15 rifle that Jarvis carried peeking out just past the door hinge.

The hulk of a man pulled Mr. Mullet, who struggled and fought to no avail, and forcefully pushed him face down in his own pool of blood, directly in front of the Three Amigos. Pausing for a moment, making sure Mr. Mullet was done with the struggle, he then looked up at Gordon for his next command. Gordon held out his hand as if to say, hold on a sec, then took a moment and looked up at the sky.

The sick bastard was enjoying every second.

Taking a deep breath in and then exhaling, he looked over toward the school. “I’ve been waiting for this moment for a long time, Jarvis!” he screamed out, emphasizing “Jarvis” with what I can only describe as glee. “Come on now, I know you’re in there watching us. Why don’t you come on out? I’d like to have a chat with a dear old friend.”

Stunned, I noticed my hand shaking only when I heard my wedding ring rattling against the pebbles beneath it.

“You can tell your two buddies on the roof to come down as well. We’re not going anywhere until they you do. Kyle and John, isn’t it?”

Dropping my head down and closing my eyes, a new sense of fear finally made it all the way up my spine and entered the back of my skull. I started to hyperventilate before glancing back up at Kyle, only to see him raise his eyebrows while pulling his face into the sight on his gun. For some reason, his confidence had a calming effect on me. Kyle knew death well, and if anybody was going to put an end to this, I knew he would.

“Oh, I recognize the urge to go ahead and try to take a few shots at us from where you’re standing. I can promise that would be a mistake. I wouldn’t want anything to happen to your dear friends at Avalon prematurely.” Gordon continued with a determined note to his voice.

From the shadows of the front hallway I heard Jarvis call out, “What do you want, Gordon? What crooked game have you cooked up this time?”

“It’s a good one, Jarvis, and you’re one of the key players. Please, come on out. Let’s not waste any more time here. Trust me when I say, there really is no choice.”

Nobody moved for what seemed like an eternity. Gordon sat patiently, waiting for Jarvis to make a move.

That’s when Jarvis emerged from the shadows of the hallway. “What are you planning to do, Gordon?” he spat with anger. “You could have killed us here if you wanted to.”

“Oh, there’s plenty of time for the details, old friend. What’s important is that you have a rare chance to save many lives by giving me back what you took from me.”

“You lost it, Gordon. You turned something that could have been good into another one of your twisted games. You turned the people against you. Only this time, you didn’t have the money to bail yourself out.”

“Ahh, but Jarvis. Don’t you see? It was perfect. We had the perfect hierarchy built. The leaders of the world were at the top. The worker bees were in their rightful place, serving us. It would have been a utopia. Don’t you understand that you could have been a king in my world? Instead, you settled for a king in yours. Trust me, old friend, mine would have been better.”

In chess, there are kings and pawns. At that moment, I got the feeling that Kyle and I were the pawns on the board. There was some sort of feud between these two that went back much further than our little revolt during the first weeks in Avalon.

Sometimes pawns are sacrificed. Sometimes they are just enough to change the game.

The only thing I knew for sure was that my son depended on this lowly pawn.

Gesturing with his cane toward his captives, Gordon looked over at the front door. “You’re not keeping very good company these days, Jarvis. Is this what we have to face at Avalon?” Sticking his cane under the chin of the Amigo with the gash split in his head, Gordon prodded his face up, forcing him to make eye contact. “Do you know what you’re fighting for, little man? Do you know what you’re going to die for?”

Lifting his head back up toward Jarvis, Gordon laughed out loud with a smugness that made me inadvertently grip my rifle. “Good thing we cleared this school of creatures for you. I can promise that it was a real mess in there. You see, Jarvis, I had to make sure we’d get our chance to chat. You should actually be thanking me, old friend.”

“How would you have known we were heading for this school?” Jarvis finally challenged.

“Ohh, Jarvis. Do you really think that I wouldn’t have some friends still lingering amongst your ranks? Well, now, it seems that you’ve underestimated me a bit. I would have expected more from you. I know everything you do. Everything.”

Another long pause as Gordon lowered the cane and began to rhythmically tap it on the ground. I saw him look out toward his men with a smile, and then back over toward the front door. Finally, his gaze landed on Mr. Mullet. “Jarvis, Jarvis, Jarvis. Come on now, I don’t want to have to be more persuasive. I mean, really, you need to be thinking about the fate of your men kneeling here before me.”

“If you’re gonna kill them, you’re gonna kill them, Gordon. I don’t believe that me coming out there is going to change one thing,” Jarvis yelled out defiantly.

“Yes, that’s probably true. You know me better than anybody, I suppose. I do miss our chats. Why don’t you just come out now? Let’s discuss this face-to-face. No need to hide in the shadows.”

“The end of the world must be getting to you, Gordon. You’d have to know we’re not going to just come out and give up.”

Gordon was smiling once again, but didn’t say a word. I watched him pull the red beret off his head and pat it against his leg. He then slid his forearm across the top of his brow.

What the hell was the bastard waiting for? Where was the big reveal? Of course, he would know that we wouldn’t be willing to give up.

There are seconds in each person’s life where they know what’s about to happen before it actually does. Not any sort of a mystical clairvoyance or phony crap like that. It’s really a simple gut instinct. These tiny seconds are never enough time to act, just enough to scare the shit out of you.

Even from the distance, I saw it in Jarvis’s face a moment before I realized it. Gordon was distracting us. He had planned this whole fucking thing, and we were nothing more than bugs caught in this elaborate spider web.

Nodding over to a man who was holding a CB, Gordon said two simple but horrifying words, “Move in.”

The man echoed the phrase into the radio, and before Kyle or I could do anything about it, we had seven armed men rushing out the door to the roof behind us. I heard the crunching of their feet racing along the pebble-filled rooftop before I had time to react.

Kyle was up on his feet in an instant, but it was too late.

They had us.

Chapter 10

Now, THAT was a contest!

The still warm blood from Mr. Mullet’s wound soaked into my pant leg, a sure sign that his life was much too quickly dripping onto the concrete below. Kneeling before Gordon, along with Kyle, Jarvis, and Rodgers, I found my mind racing at the thought of what came next.

Looking around for the backpack that Jarvis had filled with the meds, I found it resting in a pile along with our weapons. It was fairly full. I knew Jarvis wasn’t kidding when he said he’d hit the mother lode.

Drawing my attention back to the man in front of me, I found Gordon sharing his biggest smile with us. However, he didn’t say a single word at first. Instead, he walked over to the man holding the CB. I could hear a request to signal their ride slip through his lips, calling it back to our location at the school.

The wind picked up a bit, and from time to time, I would hear some of Gordon’s soldiers get spun-up at the chance to kill another approaching Z. They reveled in every kill. I can’t say I blamed them. After all, I didn’t mind bashing a few Z heads. But not even the exaggerated weapons’ fire bouncing off the walls of the school could pull my mind from the myriad of questions plaguing my mind. As we sat in silence, I couldn’t help but wonder why the hell these maniacs were keeping us alive. Why would Gordon have lured us here… and who the hell helped him from the inside?

“Thirty minutes ’til they’re here? Well now, that gives us time to have a little fun,” I heard Gordon say in a deep, sensationalized voice, loud enough so we could hear it.

The rhythmic click of the cane got louder as Gordon stepped back over toward his captives. He finally stopped right in front of us, but behind Mr. Mullet, still held face down by that giant hulk of a man. Up close, the Hulk looked as dumb as he was big. His face was near expressionless, with larger than what I would consider human eyebrows, and a slight dumbfounded smirk that seemed to be permanently painted across his face.

Raising his cane into the air, Gordon finally spoke. “So, gentlemen, we have a little spare time ahead of us while we wait for our ride. This presents us with an interesting opportunity.”

His men were gathering around us now, grinning ear-to-ear along with Gordon. They followed his every movement, listening to each syllable.

“I’ve got the perfect idea,” he pronounced. After nodding over toward a few of his men, they circled around our little group and prodded us to our feet. At gunpoint, they marched the lot of us over toward the side of the school where I remembered seeing the playground from the rooftop.

As we turned the corner, I immediately noticed that the former children’s stomping ground held all the normal playthings. A set of swings led up to a pole attached to a large rolling slide set in the middle. Surrounding it were a few benches, now covered in dark red blood that had come from the creatures killing the fat man. Gordon’s team had taken them out as we approached. The playground had a pirate theme, and there was a torn black flag displaying a skull and crossbones. It reminded me of the broken-down playground where we’d found Leonard, or Michael as he first introduced himself to us, in that first week of the apocalypse.

I have heard the term innocence lost. I’m not sure I can believe in loss without gain. However, what I am absolutely sure about is that what we were getting ready to experience felt a whole hell of a lot more like innocence torn away.

It wasn’t the slide or the swings that Gordon led us to. It was the prominently oversized monkey bars set in the shape of a large dome sitting just to the right of them. The dome was made up of bars painted red, white, and blue, and it had small chips of rust spread across its cage-like structure. It reminded me of a spider web in the shape of an upside down bowl.

My heart was beating out of my chest as we approached the structure. Kyle marched next to me. I saw him looking around shrewdly, clearly trying to find a way out of this mess. The Three Amigos were standing next to each other, and the Hulk was dragging Mr. Mullet along across the grass, the life nearly drained from his body.

“This will be where we’ll have our little competition,” Gordon said as he pointed toward the dome of bars. “Yes, this will be perfect!” he continued, looking back at us as if looking for some sort of approval.

“OK, here is what I’d like to do. First, I want the three of you to crawl into there,” he said, pointing his cane over toward the Three Amigos.

The Amigo with the gash went wide-eyed and let out a slur of words in Spanish. I’ll never know exactly what he said, but clearly, it was some serious shit. Not even when Gordon’s crew raised their guns at the Three Amigos’ chests did they take a step forward. They clearly had no intention of willingly entering that pseudo cage… until one of Gordon’s men lunged forward and stuck a knife through the arm of one of the Amigos. That seemed to clear things up for them.

When the Three Amigos crawled under the bars and entered the cage, it was immediately clear just how little space the three of them had in there. They were short but still had to duck down. There was elbowroom for them, but it was tight.

The Hulk slid the near-lifeless body of Mr. Mullet under the bars and into the dome as well, and then gave the dog-wrangling collar a shake, unhooking it from his neck. Looking back at Gordon for approval, he then pulled one of the knives that had been confiscated from the Amigos from a small bag.

Gordon nodded as the Hulk took the knife and squeezed it, along with one giant arm, in through the bars. Kyle tried to step forward, letting out a yell in protest just as the Hulk lifted the knife up and drove it down into the center of Mr. Mullet’s back. Mr. Mullet didn’t make a sound. I’m not sure if he was already dead, or just didn’t have the energy left to fight.

The Hulk, then stood, leaving the knife protruding from Mr. Mullet’s back, puncturing what I imagined was his heart. Towering over Kyle, who had been held back by a few of Gordon’s men, the Hulk’s face remained unchanged as he sidestepped him. I got the sense that he really didn’t have an understanding of what he’d just done.

The ignorant bliss of a giant.

Gordon then raised his voice in the most magnificent tone he could pull off while looking at the terrified faces of the Three Amigos. “There are three of you, one knife, and a creature that is getting ready to spring to life.” Pausing for effect… “The last man standing will be set free.”

Grabbing the bars above them, the Three Amigos swung their heads from side to side, looking at each other. None of them said a word as their eyes landed on the knife. Aside from the rising and lowering of their chests, not one of them moved…

That is until Mr. Mullet started to twitch wildly on the ground. Just before the Amigo that had been stabbed in the arm dove forward to pull the knife out, I heard him cry out in Spanish. To me, it looked like they were trying to kill the creature, up until the point where I heard a scream as one of the Amigo’s legs took a set of teeth into its flesh.

Instantly all three of them dove down into the mix, all fighting to kill the creature, twisted together in that upside down bowl of human spaghetti. I cringed as the low grumble of the Amigo that had been bitten turned into a primordial scream. Its blood-red eyes locked on its former brothers.

I watched one arm shoot up from the pile and start swinging wildly with the knife, bringing it down into the mix and stabbing anything that moved. There was no stopping it. At that point, it was to the death… and they all knew it.

Gordon motioned us over as if he had a secret to tell us. His men nudged Jarvis, Kyle, Rodgers, and me over to him. Screams and banging against the metal bars were deafening right before us, but still Gordon chose this moment to explain why he was here.

“I want Avalon back,” he started out with a bold statement. “But you probably already knew that. Don’t you see, Jarvis, you took it from me, and I don’t like it when my friends don’t play nice in the sandbox.”

Remaining silent, I couldn’t help but look over Gordon’s shoulder to see the battle to the death just feet from where we stood.

“However, I don’t want to just roll in, tearing the place down if I don’t have to. I’d hate to have to eradicate the entire population there. After all, we’ll need those people to get Avalon up and running the way it was supposed to be. Every society needs the worker bees.”

An ear-piercing scream in Spanish rang out as a gush of blood flowed out across the sand.

“Jarvis, this is where you and your good friends here come into play. Like I said earlier, you have a unique opportunity to save all of them. Before you respond to any of this, I want it to be clear that I have my army massing as we speak. Be assured, we are going to take Avalon with or without your help.”

The knife clanged against the metal bars loudly. I still couldn’t make out who was winning, or if there were going to be a winner at all.

“Why Avalon, you may be asking? I probably have my own digs at this point, right? Well, yes, this is true. However, Avalon has something that I don’t—the underground bunker. I trust that you have come across the mega-hordes at this point?”

My attention was pulled to Gordon’s gleaming eyes at the mention of a mega-horde. I hung on his next words, having no idea what the hell he was talking about.

“Ohh, I’ll take your silence and the looks on your faces as a no. As I’m sure you know, these damn creatures are pack animals. Over time, what’s happened is that small packs pull together, forming large packs. Large packs formed together creating larger packs. So on and so forth. You get the pict…”

Another scream from that playground of dead was so crazed that it pulled all of our attention toward the fight. One of the Amigos was trying to escape from the cage. The Z inside was grabbing at his leg while one of Gordon’s men pushed him back in with the blunt side of the spear that Jarvis had been carrying earlier.

I took the chance to look back and forth from Jarvis to Kyle. With the smell of blood in the air, and Gordon’s madness playing out all around us, the tension was mounting. While he tried to hide it, I could see it in Jarvis’s eyes. He was truly scared.

Looking back from the monkey bars with that same now irritating smile, Gordon continued. “There are three of what we affectionately refer to as mega-hordes that my people have been tracking. They are tens of thousands of creatures large, and are working their way across the southeast decimating anything in their path. Miles wide, they take down buildings, bust through fences, walls, whatever is in their path.”

Pausing, once again, to relish in the fear on our faces and to look back at the battle to the death behind him, Gordon finally continued. “If you haven’t connected the dots just yet, let me help you out, my friends. As I’m sure you can imagine, this makes Avalon’s underground walls a hell of a hot commodity… and I want it back.”

The hairs on my neck were at full attention, and my hands were clasped together, twisting the wedding ring around my finger. We’d hardly had a chance to digest what we’d just learned when we heard one of the Amigos whispering out from the bars. Peering past Gordon, it was clear he was the winner. Standing there holding a bloody blade, he was hunched over, dripping in gore from the three fallen bodies lying at his boots. His free arm was resting on his side, and a steady stream of blood was rolling down into his jeans.

“Ahh, hold that thought,” Gordon said calmly, as if speaking to a few friends.

Stepping over toward the bars, Gordon raised both hands in the air. “We have a winner!” Looking out toward his team, he continued, “Come on, men, let’s give this warrior a round of applause.”

The remaining Amigo appeared to be the one with the gash in his head. His chest heaved up and down as he pulled deep breaths into his lungs. He was trying to stand up as straight as possible within the confines of the dome.

“Well, anybody who knows me will tell you I’m a man of my word,” Gordon continued. “Isn’t that right, Jarvis?”

Jarvis didn’t respond. He didn’t even move a muscle.

“OK, little man. Come on out of that cage. You’re free to go. Before you come out, I need you to know two things…”

Gordon stopped mid-sentence as the Amigo pulled his free hand up, exposing an obvious bite mark that had pulled a chunk of flesh out of his hip. I winced at the realization that the Amigo wasn’t going anywhere.

Before anybody could react, the Amigo once again yelled out something in Spanish. The only word I made out was “God,” just before he pulled the knife in front of him with the sharp end of the blade firmly pressed beneath his chin. Looking over at the four of us, he said in plain English, “They were my friends.” Then closing his eyes, he dropped down on the ground with the weight of his body driving the blade up through his skull.

“They were my friends.” It echoed in the back of my mind as I closed my eyes and let my shoulders drop in defeat.

Gordon and his men didn’t make any noise for what seemed like an eternity before Gordon finally lifted his cane as high as he could in the sky and let out a cheer, “Now, that was a contest!”

His men followed suit, one of them actually discharging his weapon into the sky.

Gripping my hands together, I couldn’t tell if they were shaking because I was scared or pissed. Probably a little of both. Jarvis was looking down at the ground, and Kyle was shooting daggers with his eyes toward Gordon. It wasn’t hard to figure out what they were thinking. I agreed with them. None of this would be happening if we’d just killed the bastard after the arena battle. I knew we wouldn’t make the same mistake twice.

Returning to us, Gordon looked at the top of Jarvis’s head which was still pointed at the ground. “So, what say you, old friend? Are you going to help us save a lot of people? After all, there aren’t too many of us humans running around these days.”

Lifting his head, looking Gordon directly in the eyes, Jarvis paused for a moment before finally saying, “There is no world in which I would allow a maniac like you to run Avalon. I don’t care what you do to us. I will never willingly hand over the keys, Gordon. Never.” He emphasized the word “never” as boldly as he could muster up.

Taking a moment to think, I watched as an eerie smile grew across Gordon’s face. His eyes lit up slightly as he finally broke the silence. “I was hoping you’d say that, old friend, but I have a feeling you’ll be changing your mind in no time. By tomorrow at 8:57 p.m., we’ll be storming the gate… and you’ll have helped us.”

8:57 p.m., I thought. That seemed awful specific.

Gordon nodded to the men standing behind us. I felt a tiny prick in the right-hand side of my neck. Twisting around, the last thing I remember seeing was the Hulk standing above me with a syringe, still displaying that dumbfounded expression across his face.

I lay there on the ground for a moment, with my final thought on Tyler. I needed to get back to my son. He was all that mattered.

Then the world faded to black.

Chapter 11

You’ve got us here, Gordon. Now what are you going to do with us?

From his resting place on my shoulders, Tyler broke into the hysterical giggle that only an infant can pull off as I held his arms out in front of my head and galloped around the open field. The laugh of an infant is the only truly pure thing left in this life. The older we get, the more it seems like laughter is a socially expected response versus a true expression of joy. However, I could feel the innocence echoing from above my shoulders as I bucked up and down.

It was the best sound any father could ever hear.

The sun beat down on our backs, and the wind blew the restless trees back and forth, waving at us as I did what fathers do best. I made a fool of myself, and it was amazing.

Stopping for a moment, I looked across the neatly cut grass at a couple holding hands as they lazily walked along a sidewalk that circled a small, artificially created pond. A pump in the middle of the pool spit water high into the air, creating an almost calming white noise as it came splashing down.

Across the pond from Tyler and me, another father leaned down to show his little boy how to thread the hook with the fishing line of what looked like a Spider Man-themed fishing pole. The boy stood there, wide-eyed, absorbing every sage piece of advice. A father is like a benevolent God to a small child. Everything seems like magic.

Pulling Tyler from my shoulders, I set his feet down onto the grass and watched the blades stick up through his tiny toes. However, to my surprise, no longer was Tyler the seven-month-old infant. He was now a toddler and smiled at me with teeth so white the sun sparkled off of their shiny finish.

He continued to grow, and I watched as he took off into a sprint across the field, chasing a magnificent yellow butterfly. Sitting back on my elbow, one arm spread across the grass, I took a moment to enjoy the rays from the sun across my face. The fresh smell of spring was in the air. There was no death or pain, just my son, growing up before my eyes.

Glancing back toward Tyler, I watched as he cornered the butterfly on a giant tree in the middle of the field. My attention was pulled to my right toward a woman in a white dress, the skirt waving in the wind. She was wearing a round sun hat and appeared to be almost drifting across the grass. Her face remained hidden in the glare of the sun, but I felt her presence. With each floating step toward me, my wedding ring seemed to pulsate like a tiny, silent alarm.

I almost stood up in surprise when I saw those eyes. They stared at me, the sun gleaming through her short blond hair, projecting a sense of divine beauty. It wasn’t my wife. It was Claire’s eyes peering deep into my soul.

She was moving her lips, but I couldn’t hear her. Leaning forward, I still couldn’t hear her whispering voice. She leaned down closer, pulling herself just above me.

I could feel the ground starting to shake. The water fountain in the pond was getting louder, and my arms felt stuck to in the grass. My pulse started to quicken. Fear entered the back of my mind.

I tried to pull my shoulders up, but I wasn’t able to move. My mind started to race, and I frantically looked out toward where I last saw Tyler. I started to panic as I saw the butterfly smashed into the deep brown bark of the tree, with Tyler nowhere in sight.

Looking back up at Claire, her mouth was still moving. She was speaking into my left ear now.

“Wake up,” she whispered.

“Wake up!” she screamed…

Jerking awake, I blinked twice before seeing wires and gauges sticking out of a metal wall. There was a loud hum pulsating in my ears, and the ground had a low vibration thumping through it like an old drum. Tightening my core, a pit opened in my stomach as I instantly recognized where I was.

Great, another goddamned helicopter, I thought as I lifted my head.

Deciding to table the meanings behind the dream, including why the hell Claire was there, my mind turned to the crap that had been injected into my neck. I had never willingly taken any hard drugs in my life… at least none that I’ll admit to. However, whatever shit they’d stuck in my neck was enough to knock me the fuck out. Still, I’ll always hold onto that moment in the beginning of the dream. I would take that drug again in a heartbeat if it gave me another memory like that.

It is the closest thing I’ll ever have to spending a day in the park with my son.

Making a mental note to ask Gordon what was in that little mixer before I killed him, I wearily lifted my head. The grogginess ran deep through my mind, and I could feel a hell of a headache starting in my neck and rolling up the back of my skull.

Trying to lift my hands to wipe my eyes, I realized they were bound together around a metal bar, which was attached snugly to the wall of the helicopter. Looking up, I noticed what appeared to be elongated yellow zip ties. They were the kind used to close a garbage bag. Pulling myself right side up, I noticed Jarvis, and Rodgers still passed out. Kyle was starting to move a bit, but his eyes were still shut.

The Hulk was sitting across from us, staring out a window in awe. Gordon was seated next to him, watching me with a grin as I fought to focus my eyes. From what I could gather, we were in a large helicopter. The cabin didn’t have the niceties of the last helicopter I’d flown in. This one looked military in nature. There were four portholes running down the length of each wall, and the rear appeared to be able to open like a drawbridge. I got the sense that it could be used to carry about ten or fifteen troops. It felt barren with just the six of us back there.

I twisted the ring on my finger, as I was reminded of my wife… and the flying tomb she’d died in. My stomach twisted up as I remembered the final look in her eyes. Squeezing my fists, I reminded myself that the past is often not how we’d like it to be. Looking to the future is the only place to truly find any semblance of peace… a place where the bad memories can finally fade.

However, right now, I needed to focus on the present.

Gordon didn’t say a word. In fact, when I opened my mouth to speak, he held his hand up toward me, warning me not to say anything. “All in good time, John. Let’s wait for your friends to wake. Then we’ll talk.”

Holding Jarvis’s backpack on his knee, Gordon was sifting through the meds. Lifting a bottle up into the light, a smile grew across his face before he dropped it back into the bag. My anger went from zero to sixty. I needed to get those meds back.

Time was running out.

Shaking my head to throw some of the grogginess out of my mind, I pulled my face up to my tied hands to rub my eyes. The metal poles that all of our arms were bound to were attached vertically on the wall and appeared as if they were intended to hold some sort of gear. As my eyes readjusted to the dimly lit interior, they fell on the Hulk. Tied to his left leg was one of the holsters that the Amigos had carried around their chests. The other leg held a cargo pocket full of the same zip ties binding our arms… along with my hammer. The giant bastard had it in his belt. What I wouldn’t have given to get my paws on it.

I watched as the Hulk lifted his full ham-sized fist to pull the blade from the holster. He held it out in front of his face, inspecting it as a child would inspect a newfound toy. It was only then that I saw any change in his expression. One side of his mouth seemed to perk up, but quickly withdrew, leaving him looking like a cross between Sloth from the Goonies and Andre the Giant.

Kyle was sitting up now, looking from me to Jarvis and Rodgers, who were starting to stir. We’d all be conscious soon, and you could see the excitement in Gordon’s eyes. He was slightly rocking in his chair, almost ready to pounce at the idea of showing us what came next.

The Hulk took the blade and pushed it sharp side down into the floor of the helicopter, between his legs so that Gordon wouldn’t see what he was doing. It took me a moment to figure it out, but I soon realized he was carving pictures into the metallic paint.

“You’ve got us here, Gordon. Now what are you going to do with us?” Jarvis screamed out so he could be heard over the roaring engine of the helicopter.

Startled, my gaze was drawn from the Hulk to my friends, who were all awake now and sitting up. Kyle’s eyes were darting around the cabin. I could tell he was trying to find a way to free himself. As he yanked down, squeezing the zip tie into his flesh, his eyes landed on the metal pole holding his arms up.

Rodgers was sitting at full alert, twisting his hands around the pole. I watched as a slight hint of panic shot across his face. It was as if he were surprised to be there. With his face turning red, he twisted in vain for a moment, trying to pull free as the yellow plastic turned his wrists white.

Gordon held his hand out to Rodgers, as if to say, “It’s not worth the effort,” then looked back toward Jarvis. “Oh, we’re nearly there, old friend. I almost hate to spoil the surprise. Then again, I do feel like I owe it to myself to share this with you. After all, I’ve been waiting so very long.”

I looked back at the Hulk, who had not acknowledged a word being said. He remained focused on his small helicopter art, which reminded me more and more of what a Neanderthal would draw on the side of a cave wall.

Gordon continued. “You see, we’re heading back to my base. My home away from home, if you will… if you count Avalon as my real home.” He chuckled at this, while the venom built up in Jarvis’s face.

“I’m not going to help you, Gordon. You’ve gone to this trouble for no reason at all. I’ll never willingly tell you a thing,” Jarvis finally spat out.

“Hold that thought,” Gordon replied calmly. “I have something I want the four of you to see. Take a look out of the portholes to the right,” he said, pointing at the windows above our heads. “Really, you have to see this. Come on now… you just have to stand.”

Hesitantly at first, we started to prop ourselves up against the wall. The pole our arms were bound to made it so we could slide our wrists high enough to stand. An indistinguishable numbness plaguing my limbs had me fighting for each inch, as I slid my face along the vibrating helicopter wall in an effort to reach that tiny round opening to the outside world.

Kyle’s mouth dropped as he reached the window. His haunted expression pulled the hairs on the back of my neck to full alert. My own eyes finally reached the glaring sun as it peeked in on us through the thick plated glass.

At first, it looked like the ground had been scorched, burnt to the bare earth. There wasn’t any green. Nothing more than a field of brown and black dots could be seen. However, as my eyes adjusted to the brightness outside, I soon realized that the earth was moving ever so slightly. Up and down, slowly, but methodically, it was moving over trees, through buildings, and swallowing cars whole.

I felt my Adams apple bob as I gulped, and my breathing picked up, momentarily fogging up the glass my face was pressed against. I simply couldn’t believe it. There was a literal sea of Zs, moving together as one giant horde, and it stretched as far as we could see from the height of the helicopter.

“What… the… hell?” I heard Kyle whisper.

Still staring out of the porthole in awe, I realized what the Hulk had been looking at. It was absolutely breathtaking… in all the wrong ways.

“Gentlemen, I’d like to introduce you to the Mega-Horde. Impressive, isn’t it?” Gordon called out above the engines. “This little group of creatures is working its way toward my base camp as we speak. They’ll be there in less than a week’s time. We’ve tried all the usual methods to steer them away. You know, like sound, light, etcetera. Doesn’t seem to work on a horde this size. My people don’t think there’s anything we can do to stop them at this point. I’m actually not so sure… but then again, I don’t need much of a push to head back toward Avalon.”

“We’re not helping, you sick twisted fuck,” Kyle finally said from where he stood, moving his hands up the pole ever so slightly. I’d thought he’d kept his mouth rather quiet during all this. Twisted fuck seemed to be about the response I’d have expected from him. If I wasn’t tied up, floating over a sea of the dead, I might have actually thought it was funny.

Gordon nodded over toward the Hulk, who stood up, glaring at Kyle. For a moment, I thought Kyle was going to stand his ground. When the Hulk took a step forward, Kyle let the breath out of his chest and sat down, pulling his wrists tightly against the metal pole once again. Not like Kyle to back down from a fight, I thought to myself.

“That’s much better, Kyle,” Gordon sneered. The Hulk stayed standing, steadying himself with one monster hand holding onto the railing that sat above his head and ran the length of the extended metallic cabin.

“Now why would I have shown you this? Why would I be taking you back to my base camp? Probably lots of questions running around in your minds…”

Jarvis didn’t respond. I got the sense that he was still pretty woozy. His face was pale, and I could see his eyes were bloodshot. Rodgers hadn’t really said jack shit since we were captured. I wasn’t sure if he was holding back, or if his mind had finally cracked all the way. It was strange behavior for him, no matter how I looked at it.

Either way, it was OK. Kyle was ready to do the talking.

“Yeah, Gordon, we’ve been wondering about that. Why don’t you enlighten us,” Kyle said, shifting his shoulders and elbows away from the Hulk and directly toward Gordon.

Pausing for a moment at the unexpected sarcasm, Gordon refocused and said, “I like that. The toughness. I could tell you were a real hard ass back at the Arena. I’m looking forward to when we land, Kyle. You see, I have a whole army waiting and ready to be airlifted over this sea of creatures. We’ll be drop-shipped right into Avalon’s front yard.”

“Big surprise. You already said you’d be attacking—at 8:57 p.m. exactly, if I remember correctly. What the hell does that have to do with us?”

“Oh, yes, 8:57. You probably don’t remember, but that is the exact minute Jarvis here decided to take Avalon from me. I find it only just that we come back for what is rightfully mine at the same time.”

“Yeah, real poetic,” Kyle replied sourly. “You still haven’t told us why you went to all this trouble to capture us.”

“Oh, dear Kyle. You see, taking Avalon back has everything to do with the four of you. You’re the one that set up most of the defenses, aren’t you?”

Kyle didn’t respond, leveling a stone-faced stare at Gordon.

Lifting his hands in the air to make air quotes, Gordon replied, “Oh, you don’t have to answer. I already know that the four of you have the inside scoop, so to speak.”

“We’ll never tell you a thing,” Jarvis finally spoke up.

“I have a few friends back at my base that think otherwise. We came across them a few months back. They were responsible for extracting secrets out of the Saudis during the last Gulf War. So you’re right, Jarvis, I don’t think for a second that you’ll willingly tell me anything. I’ll be letting my two good friends help to guide the conversation.”

The word torture entered my thoughts. I had never been tortured, unless you count having to watch night after night of reality TV with my wife.

“They have a little friend called Sodium Pentothal, which they say will have you whistling Dixie by the day’s end. I’ve asked them to take it easy on you at first. After all, we’re old friends. I need you to know, however, they have the kinds of tools that would have the Pope singing about God being a fiendish lie.”

He paused at this and took a moment to look at our faces. “We’re close now. I can’t wait to show you the medieval shit they’ve built. I have to say, I’m looking forward to seeing how much you tough guys can take.”

He wasn’t the only one…

Chapter 12

Ohh. That’s really good.

Gordon left us there, tied up and stewing on the word medieval. The word brought up all kinds of madness into my thoughts. I thought back to fourth grade. One of the kids in my class had built a small diorama of a dungeon at a time when the class was learning all about the Middle Ages. The small, but detailed, replica built into a cardboard box had a number of medieval torture devices. It showcased an action figure that was being stretched across a table with ropes attached to all four limbs, as well as a metal spiked helmet that was clamped shut over another action figure’s head. For whatever reason, my fourth-grade memory still held them in high regard as the devices that would be used to torture someone.

Gordon was facing forward, with a headset clasped tightly over his ears, chatting it up with the pilot. Briefly wondering if his mouth ever actually stopped moving, I looked at Kyle, Rodgers, and Jarvis, only to realize that Kyle was inching toward the giant sitting across from us. Attempting to pull the Hulk’s attention away from his masterpiece, Kyle clanged his wrists tight against the pole. The Hulk shook his head, as if his attention has been shattered, and looked up from the artistic challenge.

Charles Darwin once said, “It’s not the strongest species that survive, nor the most intelligent, but the ones most responsive to change.” Sitting there staring at the Hulk, I finally knew exactly what that meant. He wasn’t smart; that much was clear. I’d also seen stronger men get taken down by the creatures lurking down below. Yet he’d managed to make it this far. In the end, he’d found the right way to adapt to this world—following Gordon’s every command. He’d found a place where he had a purpose.

Humans are programmed to follow. Purpose is what keeps us alive.

Nodding to the Hulk, Kyle asked, “Whatcha drawing?” with a slight smile growing across his face. He spoke in a low voice, trying to find a middle ground where the Hulk could hear him and Gordon couldn’t.

The giant looked up and quickly shielded his drawing with a hand that could easily have palmed a beach ball. Remaining calm, Kyle kept the smile across his face, looking genuinely interested. After a long pause to let the request sink in, the Hulk slowly shifted his hand to the right, revealing an image of four stick figures. One was much larger than the others were, but they all had smiles on their faces. The largest of the figures had a winding string attached to a massive hand that led up to an oversized balloon.

“Ohh. That’s really good,” Kyle almost cooed as he continued to inch forward toward the carving. Sliding his hands up the pole once more, Kyle started to stand. “Can I see the whole thing?”

The Hulk tensed up and his shoulders shot out, exposing his broad chest. Expecting him to leap forward to knock Kyle down, I instinctively flinched back into my own corner.

Kyle did the opposite. I hadn’t realized what he was doing at the time. It was all the small movements that did the trick. Every time he stood, each body shift—the sly bastard had been chipping away through the plastic binding, wearing the tie around his hands to the snapping point.

It all happened in the blink of an eye. I watched, just as stunned as Jarvis and Rodgers, while in one single motion, Kyle pulled his hands away from the metal pole and grabbed the railing in the ceiling above us. Swinging slightly, he arched his back and sprung forward, pushing his entire body weight through his legs out in front of him. The hard rubber of his boot connected perfectly with the face of the Hulk. The giant just stood there, expressionless as always. Kyle paused as a dumbfounded look of surprise crept across his own face. Twisting his head from me to Jarvis, he raised one eyebrow and lifted both shoulders with a curious sort of shock. No matter how big the Hulk was, Kyle did still put a foot to his face… and considering who it came from, that usually did the trick.

An instant later, the Hulk’s eyes rolled into his head, and he began to fall backwards. Kyle, not wanting to let the thud of his body hitting the floor alert Gordon and the pilot, dove beneath him, trying to prop him up. It was a mistake that quickly found Kyle pinned between the wall and the unconscious giant. Snapping my gaze to the front of the chopper as Kyle struggled to break free, I watched in horror as Gordon started to twist back slowly to check on us. We all froze as if thinking Gordon’s vision was suddenly based on movement, much like the T-Rex in that movie, Jurassic Park.

In the same instant, the pilot lifted his free hand above the instrument panel, pointing out through the windshield, grabbing Gordon’s attention. I don’t think I took a single breath as Kyle quickly but cautiously nudged back and forth before finally pulling himself free.

A bead of sweat rolled down my cheek as Kyle jumped up with the Amigo’s knife in hand. While he slid the blade through each of our plastic cuffs, we still continued to hold the metal poles, appearing captive, while Kyle used all of his might to prop the Hulk back up on the seat.

After leaning the giant’s back against the cabin wall, with his face away from the front cockpit and toward where we were sitting, Kyle pulled a nine-millimeter handgun from a holster on the Hulk’s hip. Looking between Rodgers and Jarvis, both holding out their hands for it, he threw it to Jarvis, who quickly lifted his ass and sat on it.

Kyle then moved back over toward where we were sitting, and reached his hands up to wrap around the pole.

Shifting his focus to the three of us, he said in a stern but low voice, “We need to move to take Gordon and the pilot out. We’ll need to do it quick as hell. I’m not sure if I can get into the cockpit before we cra…”

My stomach lifted into my chest as the helicopter started its descent. We all looked toward the cockpit as Gordon called out merrily, “We’re here!” He seemed to be admiring his base from the sky, and even appeared to be waving at some of his people on the ground.

“Shit!!” Kyle cursed. Looking around the cabin for just a moment, he then said “OK, change of plans. We need to take the pilot the second we land, before he turns the engine off. With any luck, we’ll be able to pull right back into the sky before anybody realizes what the hell has happened.”

Rodgers peered toward the cockpit, then toward us. There was a look on his face that I couldn’t place at the time. Fear, concern, madness… I wasn’t sure, but looking back on it, it told a lot more than any words could have. I knew one thing for certain, the guy that had faced off against countless terrors alongside us suddenly looked like he was questioning what we were about to do.

My eyes were wide as we made our descent. I had the very real thought that our lives, the lives of our friends, and the life of my son depended on us being able to pull this off. We were going all in, and we didn’t have a hell of a hand to play with. However, with any luck, we’d be giving Gordon the hard goodbye.

The back wheels touched ground with a thud. I watched as the Hulk rolled from side to side. Just as he was about to tip back to fall off the bench, the front wheels hit, throwing the Hulk forward just enough to keep him upright.

“Thank you,” I whispered too loudly to myself.

Shooting my attention to the cockpit, praying Gordon hadn’t heard me, I realized he was busy pulling the headset off and unbuckling his harness. At nearly the same moment we landed, a noise came from the side of the cabin as the door on the front side of the helicopter started to open. I found myself wondering why we hadn’t made a move yet. My blood was boiling, but I was waiting for Kyle to lead the charge.

“Hold. We have the element of surprise,” I heard him whisper below the slowing roar of the propellers above.

A man wearing a set of headphones pulled the door open and poked his head in, looking back at us, and then toward Gordon, who had already stepped out of the cockpit and toward the door.

“Well my friends, this is the last stop. I think it’s time to see what you have to say now that you’re getting ready to meet the full team.”

“I say, who’s the tough guy now?” Kyle yelled out as he lowered his hands and pulled the knife out from behind his back.

Gordon’s face went pale as Kyle jumped up, followed by the three of us. While Kyle darted toward the door, which was surprisingly far away from us, Gordon kicked the man with the headset out of the way and leapt from the helicopter.

Kyle reached the exit, peering out after Gordon, and I swear there was a moment where he almost jumped out after him. However, he quickly came to his senses and shot his attention to the pilot, who was hitting a bunch of switches on the control panel, getting ready to shut the helicopter down, oblivious to what was happening behind him.

Running toward the front, Kyle reached both arms over the pilot’s shoulders and violently yanked him out of the chair. Throwing the man back for the rest of us to deal with, Kyle slid into the pilot’s seat, and in the same motion, was flipping all the same switches in reverse order.

Jarvis had the nine-millimeter drawn. Keeping his composure, he looked down at the pilot, who was curled up in the corner by the door. With the tone of a father reprimanding his son, he asked, “Do you know what kind of maniac you’re linked up with, boy?”

The pilot shook, not saying a word as his crotch turned dark wet, and the familiar smell of urine permeated the cabin.

“Jesus Christ!” Rodgers yelled out.

“Get out!” Jarvis finally said, keeping the firearm locked on the piss-wet pilot’s face.

Rolling out through the opening, the pilot hit the ground with a thump as I leapt over toward the door to pull it up. Glancing out to the airfield, I couldn’t believe what I saw. There were at least five more of the same double-blade helicopters we were riding in, which I later learned were Chinooks. There were some tents in the distance. I could see a number of men running toward our ride. Guns drawn, they were getting close enough to fire.

Yanking the door shut, my voice nearly cracked as I yelled over to Kyle, “Now is the time!”

He didn’t respond, but I could hear the blades on our helicopter going at full speed. I saw him pull back on the yoke, causing my knees to buckle. Tipping over, I found myself rolling through the piss puddle that the pilot had left behind.

Ducking down, I heard repeated clings as bullets pelted the exterior of the metal-plated chopper. I expected to see holes the sizes of grapefruit appear in the sides and the floor. To my surprise, I didn’t see a single one. The sucker was well armored.

Once in the air, I pulled myself from the piss puddle, wiping some of it from my face with my one dry sleeve.

As we rose further into the sky, the gunfire ceased and the clings that I heard rattling into the floor below stopped with it. We were pulling away quickly, high into the cloud-filled heavens. I found myself standing at one of the portholes. Gordon had a hell of a compound set up down there, I thought to myself. There were a countless number of tiny men below, surrounded by buildings, aircraft, and a bunch of large wooden boxes stacked atop each other. Lowering my shoulders, I realized that if they were coming at Avalon with all of that, then our little world… our safety would be put to the truest test it could be. The test for all our lives.

As the base turned into nothing more than an impressive set of toy soldiers, I turned my attention to the front of the cabin and walked up to join Kyle. While my nerves had my hands shaking like a hooker’s vibrator, he appeared composed, focusing on navigating the giant helicopter.

Noticing me, his nostrils flared as he scowled. “You smell like piss.”

Yes, I did, but we were alive.

Kyle’s plan had worked… for the moment. Now we just needed to figure out which way was home.

Chapter 13

Patience wins wars.

Taking a moment to breathe, I pulled myself into the co-pilot chair. The shadow of the helicopter was visible, but just barely, against the overgrown landscape and various small lakes and ponds below. The sun was beginning to go down, but I could still make out small packs of creatures roaming through the fields. I had no idea how far away we were from Avalon, but Kyle was quickly working on trying to figure it out. We seemed be in the middle of bum-fuck America.

Glancing out through the front window, I quickly realized we were coming back up on the giant Mega-Horde of the dead we’d flown over on the way to Gordon’s base. Absently twisting my wedding ring around my finger, I thought about our fate should something happen to the chopper while flying over that deadly mass. Even at a distance, the horde was massive, slowly crawling across the earth with the same relentless force of lava down a volcano—annihilating what was left of the land.

Trying to shake the thought, I glanced over to see Kyle sorting through the navigation, when my eyes were drawn to a radio switch. It appeared to work through a set of speakers as well as the headsets, hung in place above the seats.

“Think we’ll be able to get through to them?” I heard Rodgers ask.

“I certainly friggin’ hope so,” I answered as I swung my shoulders toward the dials.

Pulling the headset over my ears, I hit the switch. Flipping through various MHz channels on what Kyle told me was a Very High Frequency (VHF) Aviation band I looked at Jarvis. “Avalon can pick this up, right? I mean this type of a radio signal?”

Pulling a second headset over his ears, while nodding, he replied, “Yes, boys, Avalon has a doozy of a communications array. I just hope someone’s listening.”

Jarvis was telling me which channel to tune into when we hit an air pocket that made the helicopter drop suddenly. I felt it in my stomach, and threw my hands up on the flashing dashboard to steady myself. Jarvis and Rodgers almost lost their balance but managed to stay upright.

I noticed Kyle had a half-smile spreading across his face that said, overreact much?

Feeling a tad foolish, I pulled my arms back, shook my head, and asked Jarvis. “You want to do the honors?”

Nodding, his eyes narrowed as he steadied the microphone into place, while I hit the talk button on the radio. Swallowing hard, he closed his eyes completely, took a deep breath in, and finally opened his mouth to speak.

Using a code that we’d established when we first started heading outside the walls, he said “King’s Landing, King’s Landing, this is Iron Eagle. Please reply… Over.”

After he had repeated it several times, we sat there in anticipation, hanging on every millisecond of static. I could feel my palms sweating as I thought about Tyler. We had to get through. I needed to know he was all right.

“Come on!” I inadvertently voiced as I reached up and hit the roof of the cabin.

Standing next to Jarvis, Rodgers chimed in with his usual rose-colored commentary. “We’re probably too far away. Either that or somebody is taking a piss break.”

Ignoring him, Jarvis repeated his call to our friends. Lowering my head, I started to believe we might actually be out of range when we heard a distant echo in the earphones.

“Asshole” …chhhhhh… “get back here” …chhhhhh… “son-of-a-bitch Kyle” …chhhhhh.

“Do you hear that?” Kyle asked, looking at us wide-eyed. “That sounds like Mia!”

Meeting his expression with what I’m sure was a reflection of his surprise, I said “Yeah, I do, and she sounds pissed!”

Jarvis raised his voice, as if it would help the transmission. “King’s Landing, King’s Landing, is that you? Do you hear us? Over.”

Now a male voice replied, “Yes… chhhh. We can hear you. Can you hear us? Over.” Recognizing it immediately, we all knew Richards, Jarvis’s second-in-command.

That anxiety-driven feeling of a cinderblock crushing my chest inadvertently began to ease up. We had gotten through. Unclenching my fists, I couldn’t help but feel a seed of hope growing deep down in my core.

I should have known better.

Jarvis’s face went dead serious as he held his hands up to the headset. “Your voice is filled with static, but we can make out most of what you’re saying. For right now, what is most important is that you listen.”

Jarvis went on to quickly explain the circumstances by which we found ourselves flying in an Army helicopter. He spoke of Gordon, and the mad plan he had to take back Avalon.

When he was finished, Richard spoke up. Even through the static-filled response, we could hear the concern in his voice. He asked four simple words: “What do you need?”

“That’s a good chap. First, don’t worry about any of us. We’ll get back there in a few hours. Kyle tells us we’re around fifty miles south of Lexington, Kentucky, putting us roughly two hundred miles away.”

I glanced at Jarvis, then out at the sky, sharing his optimism.

“Second, I need you to get the defenses locked down. Everybody is on full alert, and make sure Project BOHICA is ready to go.”

Kyle and I exchanged a brief, yet distressed glance. We had often discussed the hope that BOHICA would never need to be used.

As the most drastic of Kyle’s countermeasures, it was designed for the most extreme of events—if we ever got trapped in the bunker and had to be ready to fight off some group of assholes who had forcefully entered our little sanctuary. Months earlier, Kyle had gotten hold of some sort of nerve gas contained in twenty-five small yellow gas grenades, which he referred to as “drop you like a fly” gas. We all pulled together and helped him rig a system that would set them all off around the inside halls of the bunker at the same time. The common sleeping quarters—or what we called the bunkroom—and the cafeteria in Avalon were, for all intents and purposes, the only safe places that the gas was supposed to not be able to get into.

The idea was for whatever survivors we had left to bunker down in those areas while we waited for the halls to fill up with the enemy forces. Then we’d… well, we’d make sure that there wasn’t an enemy force to deal with by releasing the gas inside the bunker. According to Kyle, it wouldn’t kill them (at least he thought), but it would give the bastards a hell of a nice headache when they’d finally wake up.

When I asked Kyle what BOHICA meant, he simply smiled and told me it was a military acronym for “Bend Over! Here It Comes Again.” It literally refers to the acceptance of forced sodomy. However, the term is typically used to describe unavoidable, unpleasant situations that have inconvenienced one before, and are about to yet again.

Kinda like some assholes trying to take over Avalon. Only this time, we wouldn’t be the assholes.

Jarvis continued, “Third, I want you to—”

Rodgers interrupted from behind us with a sudden realization. “Hey, this big bastard is still back here, and he’s starting to stir. What do you want to do with him?”

“Shit!” I called out, slightly surprised. We’d escaped in such a hurry that we’d totally forgotten about the Hulk passed out back there.

Jarvis twisted around, pulling the handgun from his waistband, and tossed it toward Rodgers. “Keep this on him for right now. I’ll come back to help you tie him up in a minute.”

Jarvis trusted Rodgers. We all did. There was no reason for us not to. That was our biggest mistake.

Rodgers caught the weapon and stepped over the giant, holding the gun above him. The conversation over the radio faded out of my mind. I’m not sure why I kept watching Rodgers. Maybe it was the slight smile that sprang across his face as he held the firearm confidently in his grasp. Maybe it was the look of madness that for just a moment all but seemed to disappear in his eyes. Either way, almost immediately, something in the back of my head told me that everything was about to go wrong.

It did.

I watched in utter shock as Rodgers reached down, grabbed the giant’s arm and pulled him up. Unable to speak, I managed to reach up, punching Jarvis in the arm, directing his attention to the two men in the rear of the cabin. He spun around just in time to witness Rodgers lifting the gun up in the direction of the cockpit, directly toward Jarvis’s surprised face.

Standing taller than I’d ever seen, and pushing his chest out like a peacock displaying its feathers, Rodgers met our gaze and spoke. “I’m going to need you to stop talking with your friends from Avalon. Turn the channel to that radio… now!”

“What is this?” Jarvis asked, clearly as stunned as I was.

The Hulk was standing tall now, and rubbing the blood from his nose off his face. Kyle was still piloting the helicopter, but not exactly keeping his eyes on the sky. We were all dumbfounded.

“No. What the fuck, Rodgers? You’re not the mole…” Kyle said in immediate disbelief. “Ahh shit. Yes, you are. You’re just crazy enough to do it.” He bellowed in frustration slamming his fist into the ceiling above.

The reality of the situation had set in for Kyle.

Ignoring the question, Rodgers barked at me to change the channel of the radio to 124.050 MHz. Still stunned, it took the gun being pointed at my face before I reached down and hit the buttons, repeating the channel out loud. The last thing I heard before pulling the headset from my head was Mia yelling at Kyle in the background. I could only hope that they would be smart enough to tune in.

With another headset over his ears, Rodgers looked over at the Hulk. Following his gaze, I noticed that the big bastard actually had my hammer held in his meaty paw, which I was none too thrilled about.

“Gordon, I’ve got them. We’re on our way back. Over.”

My heart dropped into the seat. The bastard. We’d been together for months. He was one of us… how the hell did he pull this off? So many things were firing in my mind. In that instant, I was connecting many of the dots. It was all starting to make sense.

Was it possible that he started the fire in the Med Center? After all, he’d picked the location we’d be heading to for the meds. The timing couldn’t possibly have been a coincidence. For a moment, I wondered what else he’d done that I didn’t know about. Could he have been the one feeding Gordon info from inside the walls of Avalon? My mind was racing at all the questions. However, amongst it all, I knew one thing with absolute conviction. If he was the reason, my son was just hours from death, then I’d be making damn sure that the other side of that ledger would be settled for good.

“Hello, friends, miss me?” I heard Gordon’s voice boom through the speaker.

I wanted to disappear into the cockpit seat.

“Well done, Rodgers. I was wondering when you’d call. I trust you’re doing well. Can’t wait to get my best, and most trusted friend back here into the mix.”

In the world of prostitution, there are pimps and there are hookers. The pimp usually “watches” after a number of hookers. That is his job. The pimp, usually, has his favorite hooker. She’s been there the longest and has the highest status. This woman is referred to as his “bottom bitch.”

I had the sudden realization that one of our most trusted friends had just turned out to be the “bottom bitch” to the Antichrist.

“Well, men, I’ll look forward to seeing the lot of you upon your return. Good ol’ Rodgers there will be sure to explain how he infiltrated your camp, befriended you, and lured you out into the open when we signaled him yesterday.”

Patience wins wars. It ran through my head.

“I was afraid you didn’t get the message sent by the Jeep, Rodgers. Unneeded worry, I can see. I almost pulled you from our captors when we had all of you tied up, but something told me that keeping you as one of them would pay off.”

“You were right, Gordon. You should see the looks on their faces. This was worth it.”

“I can’t wait to see it, Rodgers. We’ll catch up shortly. Over and out.”

Glancing at Kyle, I noticed he had turned beet-red from the neck up, the anger stewing in his bloodshot eyes. Kyle wasn’t one to sit on his hands when his temper was flaring. Deep in my gut, I felt certain about one thing. There was no way in hell that we were heading back to see Gordon.

Chapter 14

My knuckles turned white.

“Turn us around, Kyle,” Rodgers said, pointing the gun at Kyle’s head.

“What are you going to do? Shoot me?” Kyle challenged in a very low, murderous tone.

“I just might. There’s a shit-ton you don’t know about me. Now turn this fucking bird around.”

“No, go ahead and shoot me,” Kyle replied. I think he was bluffing, but I’ll never know.

“It’s not you I’m going to shoot. It’s your good buddy, John here that gets the first bullet.”

Not the best news I had heard all day…

Kyle’s eyes locked on to mine. He was stuck, and I certainly wasn’t going to scream, pull the trigger.

“You’re outta time, Kyle. Turn us around now, or your butt buddy bestie here isn’t gonna last another minute!”

Kyle’s knuckles turned white against the yoke. Jarvis started to speak, but Rodgersstopped him. “I don’t want to hear from you, old man.”

Flinching, I heard the firearm cock into place, something deep down I knew just to be for dramatic effect. It was working like a charm. My breathing stopped, and I waited for the bullet. For a moment, I found myself wondering which would come first: hearing the gunfire or feeling the bullet pierce my body.

In my mind, I could practically hear the second hand of Kyle’s wristwatch tick slowly around the dial before what was left of the fading sun piercing through the portholes abruptly began to shift around the cabin. As Kyle turned the helicopter the full one hundred and eighty degrees back toward Gordon’s base, I felt the air slowly begin to enter my lungs. However, I found myself unable to ease the iron grip around the seat cushion that I’d unwittingly clasped below.

“That’s a good boy, Kyle. I like the obedience. Now I get to bark out the orders.”

Kyle didn’t respond until he had us completely pointed back toward the direction from which we’d come. “Why, Rodgers? Why the hell would you work with that madman?”

“Why?” Rodgers paused for a moment, looking up ever so slightly at the roof of the helicopter as if trying to compose himself. “Don’t get me wrong. I know we’ve been through some shit. I’ll even admit that there were a few days here and there where I actually thought I might be playing for the wrong team.” He spoke with a distant look in his eyes. Almost as if he felt some semblance of remorse for what he was now doing.

“It isn’t too late, Rodgers. We can still put this behind us and head back to Avalon together. We can survive against Gordon,” Jarvis replied, slightly holding up his hands.

“That’s funny coming from you, Jarvis. You think you’re the good guys,” Rodgers said with a laugh.

“Well, what have we done, Rodgers? What have we done that makes us so evil?”

“What have you done? Well, let’s add it up. First, you stole Avalon from a man that trusted you like a brother. If that wasn’t enough, you did it before my men and I had a chance to make it there. That’s right, I had a small force of ex-military friends and family that I was responsible for. We’d all made plans to meet up with Gordon as part of his utopia. We would have been there to protect it from people like you. It should have been our home. The home of my friends. My brothers. My family.”

He stopped speaking for a moment, glaring at Jarvis with that all-to-familiar crazed look in his eyes.

“We were a hundred miles away, pushing through hordes of the dead… all with the hope of finding refuge in our sanctuary. Instead, we were met with the nightmare of living off the land. There were over one hundred and fifty of us. Less than half were still alive by the time we finally emerged from the madness of those first months. Soaked in blood, and wrung out by Death… we’d been broken down to nothing by the time we met up with Gordon.”

Ohh shit, I thought to myself.

Pointing toward the Hulk, Rodgers sneered, “This big bastard lost his sister. Many of my men, goodmen, died. All because you didn’t like the ways things were being run by Gordon.”

He had a venom in his voice that I had never heard from him before.

“Do you, the good guys, have any idea how many people you killed because you decided to take over Avalon? Do you?” he screamed at the top of his lungs, giving me enough reason to wince back.

Not one of us knew how the hell to respond. All that could be heard was the roar of the twin engines. The smell of piss, still lingering in the cockpit, served as the single distraction from the mounting tension.

Jarvis broke the silence. “He’s a lunatic. You have to know that his plan for this so called utopia was never going to work. Gordon is wired all wrong! He does nothing, other than manipulate and try to control people. He’s probably using you too, Rodgers. It isn’t too late to make things right. You have a choice here. We can do it together.”

“Ha! I think you’re confused, Jarvis. You’re the one who’s trying to manipulate people. You have everybody convinced that we can still follow the old world’s rules. We can be decent. We can be good. Everybody is equal. That is bullshit! In the end, you actually believe you’re right and the rest of the world is wrong. Well, I’ve got news for you! There is no more good. All the good people died in the beginning. There’s not a single person alive who is still innocent.”

Jarvis fought to stay composed through the screaming. However, for the briefest of moments, I saw him glance down… taking it all in. I hoped he wasn’t second-guessing his actions.

“This makes you weak. I’ve watched as your numbers have dwindled. You’re too afraid to do what you need to in order to survive. You’ll be picked apart one by one. If it isn’t Gordon, it will be someone else who tears Avalon from your grasp. Hell, I volunteered for this job. After Gordon had told me all about you, I knew there was nochance to fail.”

“So you’re just playing for what you think is the winning team?” I heard Kyle ask with an intentional note of sarcasm in his voice.

Just as Rodgers was getting ready to respond, I felt my stomach move into my chest. The whole helicopter dropped, and then pulled back up. Throwing my hands across the dashboard to steady myself, I looked over to see Kyle throwing the yoke back and forth. I don’t know if he did it on purpose or if we hit another air pocket, but at that moment, everybody in the rear cabin was being thrown around like rag dolls.

Rodgers fell back into the Hulk, and they were both pressed against the wall on the right. Jarvis was floating mid-air for a moment. It looked like he was weightless before he came crashing down to the ground.

Just as the helicopter steadied, I heard Kyle scream out, “Go! You gotta get that gun!”

My hands were shaking as I tore off the harness and leapt out of my seat. Jumping over Jarvis, who was still trying to pull himself up, I darted toward Rodgers, who was stunned. I could see the panic in his eyes as he fought to free himself from beneath the leg of the giant pinning him to the floor. As I came within striking distance, I realized his hand was no longer holding the gun.

Frantically, I searched around the cabin for the weapon.

“Over there!” I heard Jarvis yell out. Following his pointing hand, I found the small firearm sitting in plain sight just feet from where I stood. My final thought before diving was that Rodgers appeared a hell of a lot closer to it than I was.

My head drove into his chest as we both wrapped our hands around its black metal frame. He had the better grip, so I instinctively arched my back in an effort to force his arm up, pointing the gun at the roof of the helicopter. Jarvis jumped into the mix, trying to wrap his bicep around Rodgers’s neck. Tag teaming the bastard, we had him pinned under our combined weight when Jarvis found a way to slip his fingers through the trigger guard, gaining a solid upper hand.

Out of the corner of my eye, I watched helplessly as the Hulk found his footing and stood up. He was coming right at us… right at me.

Two large hands wrapped around my waist, squeezing my stomach hard enough to make me choke. I was yanked out of the wrestling match now happening on the floor, and thrown against a set of green metal benches. The stabbing sensation of getting the wind knocked out my lungs shot through my body, yet I still managed to get to my feet in time to see the giant stomping directly toward me.

He had my hammer drawn and held it above his head. Crouching down toward the seat to try to avoid the strike, I watched as the Hulk’s sweat-stained shirt squeezed tightly around an enormous set of arms that had already started to swing downward.

An ear-piecing clang rang out through the cabin as the hammer caught against the railing hanging above his head. He was stunned for a moment, then tried to unhook the hammer. Taking the opportunity, I spun past his legs while swiping one arm out to snag a handful of the yellow wrist ties hanging from his cargo pants pocket.

“Get over here and grab this gun!” I heard Rodgers cry out.

Ignoring me, the beast stepped toward Jarvis, who was pinned with his back up against the wall, managing to keep Rodgers from gaining full control of the weapon.

I didn’t think about what came next. I just acted. It’s the kind of thing that happens in the blink of an eye. A final desperate action that winds up working out only half the time… if you’re lucky.

Pulling one of the yellow ties open, I jumped forward as the Hulk leaned down and grabbed the gun. Slipping the oversized tie over the giant’s head, it fell loose around his neck before I yanked with all my strength and jumped back. With the plastic digging into his flesh, the Hulk lifted his hands to his throat, trying to slip his fingers between the tie and his reddening skin. Dropping the gun and hammer, he stumbled around the cabin, knocking into each wall. What sounded like a dry cough kept coming out of his mouth as he fell to his knees. He made eye contact with me as he finally fell to his side with a thud that shook the very core of the helicopter.

The bigger they are, the harder they fall, rang in my mind.

Inadvertently pulling a deep mouthful of air into my chest, trying to reassure myself that I could still breathe, I watched in awe while the Hulk’s lungs fought to keep moving. As his hands fell lifelessly to the ground, my attention turned to Jarvis, who was struggling to hold Rodgers down.

“Get the gun! Hurry! I can’t hold him!” Jarvis cried out before taking an elbow to the mouth.

Diving toward the weapon yet again, my fingers clenched the cold metal, and I staggered to my feet, feeling a momentary victory as I pointed it directly at Rodgers. He scowled, easing up the struggle.

“Get up… slowly,” I panted, holding the nine mil with both hands, praying that my aim was steadier than my innards.

Jarvis let go, and touched his hand to his mouth. Rodgers slowly pulled his feet under his body and started to stand. Suddenly, their faces went pale. There wasn’t any time to react.

In that moment, I was knocked down from behind. It felt like I’d been hit by a freight train. The gun was knocked from my hands and slid right toward Rodgers’s feet. I flipped forward, feeling my face slide through that same piss puddle, before rolling around and looking up to see the Hulk looming above me. His eyes revealed death. They were filled with red, glossed over with a slight white film, and he was charging right toward Rodgers.

Lying just at arm’s length was my hammer. Reaching over to grab it, I kept my eyes glued on Rodgers, who sidestepped the creature and turned with the weapon drawn. Firing a gun in a closed compartment like that was enough to make my ears bleed. Three bullets passed through the creature’s chest, while one other missed completely.

I heard Kyle screaming from the front as I pulled the hammer to my chest. With the gunfire ringing in my ears, I couldn’t be sure what he was saying. The sun was completely down, so each shot illuminated the suddenly very tiny cabin with muzzle flash as the dark taste of metallic gunpowder caught in the back of my throat.

Steading itself, the creature now set its eyes on Rodgers and tore forward. More gunshots rang out, and I winced in horror as the creature landed on top of him. His screams echoed through the cabin as he struggled under the weight of the monster. Blood was pooling up beneath them, yet I stared, transfixed, as Rodgers tried with all of his might to keep the Hulk’s mouth from coming down on his flesh.

Fighting the overwhelming dizziness to get to my feet, I realized the forward motion of the helicopter had been replaced by a wild spin. Grabbing a bench, I started to stand when one final shot tore through the creature’s head, black bile fountaining up against one of the portholes.

“John, get up here. We’re going down!” Kyle frantically barked from the front. There was a sense of urgency in his voice, pulling me away from the fact that Rodgers was holding the gun.

Bracing myself against the wall, I made my way up to the cockpit. Jarvis was pinned down by the gravitational force, fighting with all his might to get his bearings.

“Get seated. I need your help!” Kyle yelled.

The entire control panel was in disarray with multiple bullet holes, busted dials, and tangled wires that shot sparks into our faces as I forced myself into the seat.

“Help hold the yoke on your side. Just pull up!”

It was too late.

My knuckles turned white as I pushed on the flashing instrument panel, bracing for impact. There was a sudden drop in my stomach as the helicopter took the final plunge. I think I was screaming, but it happened so quickly, I can’t really be sure. In the moment before we crashed, I remember seeing the beam from the headlight of the chopper, as it got smaller and smaller against the calm, flat water. I watched Kyle’s entire body arch back as he pulled on the yoke in vain.

There was no stopping this.

Chapter 15

In the end, when you’re sitting there at death’s door, one thing is crystal clear: we are the sum of all our actions.

That’s how it all began. And here we were, underneath God knows how many gallons of water with the dead floating around outside ready to rip the pruned flesh from our bones. We had a maniac in the rear of the cabin and another ready to chase us down even if we did manage to escape this waterlogged coffin.

The cabin light was starting to flicker out, and the thumps and scratches from above were getting louder, more amplified. The helicopter was flashing like a giant McDonalds’ sign to all creatures in the area… and they were starving.

I noticed the backpack full of meds floating a few feet away from my ankles. I leaned over to pick it up and slung it around my shoulders, pulling the straps as tightly as they would fit over the body armor.

Glancing at the now upside-down clock on the instrument panel, I could see the flickering numbers telling me it was 5:57 pm. Exactly fifteen hours till Gordon would be at Avalon’s gates.

The water level was knee deep and quickly rising. The rear of the helicopter wasn’t sealed airtight. The water, once seeping in, was now gushing in. I could see the Hulk’s body bobbing in the rear of the cabin just beyond where Rodgers was crouched, ready to pounce.

“Don’t you do it, man. John. John. Please, man, don’t do this. There’s got to be another way!”

“I don’t think you have a fucking say in this, Rodgers,” Kyle shot back at him.

Kyle was up on his knees now, ready to stop any sort of advance from the backstabbing prick. I still had the gun held up to the glass. I knew the score. We could live here for a few minutes more, or die trying to get to the surface. Both options had my hands trembling, and Rodgers’ manic cries from behind had me second-guessing my actions. Was there another way?

I did what had to be done. We were not all getting out of that sunken tomb, and I knew it. In the end, when you’re sitting there at death’s door, one thing is crystal clear: we are the sum of all our actions. I could only hope that I’d done enough good to make up for what was about to come.

Releasing the clip from the nine mil, I saw that one bullet remained. Looking down at Jarvis, then out toward the creatures lurching toward us in the flickering headlamp, I had an epiphany. I knew what needed to happen.

We needed a distraction.

“Step back, Kyle,” I said gravely. I turned back toward Rodgers, pushing the clip back into place.

Not one person in the helicopter questioned me. I could tell they all saw it in my face.

Kyle half-lifted his arms in the air as if I was going to do something to him, then slid carefully back toward Jarvis. Rodgers started to back up as I raised the gun toward him.

“What are you doing? John? John!” It was a distant yell, and I only slightly heard it as my mind focused on what had to be done.

As if witnessing the event unfold more than being part of it, my words left my lips without any forethought. “Rodgers. Remember when we talked about who the good guys are? You asked the question: how would you ever know which team is the right team to play for?”

Stunned, he looked up at me. His face was barely visible in the dim lights. I heard the water slosh behind him as he continued to back up.

“I don’t really know if I understand good from bad anymore.” Taking a deep breath, I slid my finger to the trigger. “But I know one thing. You played for the wrong team.”

Even in the darkness, I saw his eyes go wide as I pulled the trigger. The bullet tore through his leg, and he dropped with a splash. I couldn’t see the blood spilling into the water, but the liquid grew darker, even thicker, as it splattered in all directions.

My ears and eyes were burning in pain again. It took several moments to regain my senses. I momentarily made eye contact with Kyle. He didn’t say a word but watched me drop the weapon into the rising water and lift the hammer out of my belt.

The expression on his face was more surprise than anything else before he finally nodded. He knew what I was doing, and the nod was enough to reassure me that we didn’t have any other choice.

Pulling the hammer back, I placed my palm on the wall next to me and looked at Kyle and Jarvis one final time.

“This is it.” I let slip through my teeth.

With a single moment of clarity, the last thing passing through my mind was a number. The number that separated me from protecting my son. 900 minutes.

A thump against the glass forced me to look forward. Outside, a creature had its face pressed against the windshield, gnawing at itssmooth finish with a set of broken teeth. Grasping my fingers tightly around the base of the hammer, I took a few quick deep breaths before arching back, grunting and driving that instrument of death down. Despite the pressure from the water outside, the hammer smashed through the windshield and into the creature’s skull.

I didn’t hear even the tiniest bit of noise. All five senses pointed directly toward the million freezing pricks of cold as they showered across every inch of my skin.

At first, I thought I was blinded by the glass as it shattered inward. My entire body was catapulted back by the force of the water rushing in. For the briefest of moments, it felt like someone had hit the pause button, stopping time as I floated helplessly deep inside the cabin. Opening my eyes just long enough to see the light flickering against the multiple silhouettes of the dead outside, I was suddenly yanked out into the open water with the current.

I had no real control as I spun around, swishing through the long seaweed outside. For what seemed like an eternity, I lost my sense for which way was up, and I found myself kicking wildly, trying to hold every small ounce of air in my lungs.

Ready… waiting to feel a pair of cold dead teeth dig into my flesh, I found myself just floating, paralyzed. Still clutching the hammer in my hand, I finally re-opened my eyes. There was no sting like you’d find with salt water, and a light below made me glance down. Through the blurred darkness, I watched as at least a dozen creatures descended upon Rodgers right in front of the chopper’s headlight, pulling him apart on the murky, mud-covered ground.

The gurgled horrifying scream as he lay there being torn apart was all that was audible. To this day, I remember it clearly. Sometimes I hear it in my dreams.

I couldn’t see Jarvis or Kyle, but knew I needed to head up. Kicking for everything I was worth, I pushed through the liquid death. Every muscle in my body was burning, and I could feel my lungs begging for a breath as I fought to keep them for pulling the cold water into my chest.

There was no way I was going to make it. I was too far down. Drowning was supposed to be a painful, but quick death. I wondered if I’d be destined to be one of these floating creatures down there after I turned.

Tyler shot through my mind. A cold, more piercing than the water I was cursed in, flushed through me. Tyler. My little boy. My precious baby boy. After everything I’d been through to protect him, was I giving up now?

Hell no!

A burst of adrenaline shot through my body. The cold turned warm, and the pain turned into energy. The murkiness at this depth made it impossible to know how far I still had to go, but I wasn’t stopping. I’d come too far. I needed to go up. Up to my son.

The hammer, held firmly in my hand, was the first to hit the cold air. It felt heavy as it reached the dark night sky. Pulling life back into my lungs, I shot out of the water feeling like one of those seals doing a back flip at Sea World. Splashing around frantically to stay afloat, I looked for the closest land.

“John!” It came from behind me. “Over here!”

Kyle was swimming backwards, holding Jarvis’s head above water. They were heading for a set of nearby trees. Intent on not getting sucked down by any of the Zs lurking below, I kicked into full speed, which probably looked more like a snail trying to sprint as I fought against the waterlogged body armor trying it’s hardest to pull me back down.

Land wasn’t too far away, and the three of us pulled ourselves onto some stones lying on the shore. I saw Jarvis spit water out of his mouth and nose, which was good. He was alive. Kyle lay there breathing heavy, with his arms spread out on the ground.

“Jesus, man. You picked the wrong team?” Kyle finally sputtered, looking up at me. “That was some cold shit, man. I didn’t know you had it in you.”

“It was the only thing I could think of,” I replied, looking down at the smooth pebbles.

“I know! It was some Dirty Harry kind of shit.” Half a smirk crossed his face.

“You likely saved us, John. I know you saved me. If it hadn’t been Rodgers getting torn to shreds down there, it surely would have been me. You did what needed to be done. Feel confident in that,” Jarvis said making direct eye contact.

Looking back out at the water, I remember thinking he was right. However, it didn’t soften that dark feeling that had crept into my mind. As if a tiny black seed had been planted, I already felt it ready to grow over what had been left of my humanity. A darkness that cloaked the light, making it easier to be a killer. Easier to do what needed to be done. I feared how much I would allow it to blossom.

The air was crisp, and our clothes were wet. In a survival situation, this was a bad combination. The fact that Jarvis was still losing blood didn’t make it any better. Taking a quick survey of our surroundings, we discovered that we’d landed in nothing more than a lake in what felt like a park. It could have been the hard ground, a building, or a forest. Given the circumstances, I guess we were about as lucky as we could have been.

Luck. In the end, it’s the only reason that anybody’s still alive in this world. There isn’t a person still breathing who doesn’t realize that at any given moment that proverbial coin could land tails down. So many of us have relied upon that fifty-fifty chance. Even more of us aren’t around to talk about it.

The moonlight revealed a series of trails that wrapped around the lake. We needed to find some sort of shelter, not only to get out of the elements, but who the hell knew how many roaming Zs lurked in the forest. I had images of dead hippies with long, cornrow hair jumping out of the trees at us wearing torn, bloodied camping gear.

“There’s a trail map over here,” Kyle whispered over to us from a small pole prominently sticking out of the ground by the trail’s edge.

Jogging over, I glanced down at the map. I’d been into camping and backpacking when I was younger. Seemed do it less and less as I got out of college. Either way, I knew my way around a park. I also knew there was usually some sort of shelter.

Now we just had to get there, and hope that Gordon or the dead wouldn’t find us first.

Chapter 16

Preventing Forest Fires for Over 100 Years!

Kyle was pulling Jarvis up, propping him against his shoulder when we heard it. Starting as a distant whisper that called out to us through the waving tree limbs, it echoed through the park like the cries of some benevolent force. Growing louder, I knew the sound all too well, and saw the recognition in Kyle’s eyes as he looked up.

My heart skipped a beat when the light from the sky came into sight, pointing down at the forest ground as it tore through the air toward us.

They were on our trail, and we had nowhere to run.

Dragging Jarvis, Kyle shouted, “Duck down by that tree!” over the roar of the copter’s engine.

The three of us quickly found ourselves face first in the dry forest leaves. I felt a broken limb digging into my ribs as I looked up to see the chopper swinging around the lake, keeping the bright beam focused on the small waves sloshing back and forth.

When it didn’t find any signs of life, it took to doing a pass around the whole lake, keeping the beam on the water’s edge. I watched the trees below swinging rapidly up and down, reminding me of the type of audience-created wave you’d see at a baseball game.

The light passed over us twice, spitting up dried leaves all around. Fighting to hold back a hacking cough, I could feel dust settling in my nose and throat. Luckily, we were buried in enough green shrubbery to go undetected. Finally, the chopper halted, simply hovering in the middle of the lake.

“Maybe they’ll think we’re dead and call off the search.” I coughed through the dust still floating all around us.

No such luck.

The chopper twisted counter-clockwise, its tail turning around toward us. Then it moved forward just over the trees on the opposite side from where we sat. Wide-eyed, I watched as it started its descent. They were landing in what must have been an open field or a parking lot across from our position.

“They’re really after us,” Kyle said, stating the obvious.

“Gordon’s a persistent man, boys. Once he sets his mind on something, he simply doesn’t stop until he gets it,” Jarvis replied.

I thought back to something I’d heard Rodgers say to Jarvis earlier. He’d asked Jarvis how he could betray his best friend, referring to Gordon. All along, I had thought Gordon was just taunting Jarvis by calling him things like old friend. I was starting to believe there was much more history behind that story. Knowing that now wasn’t the time to get to the bottom of it, I decided to table the conversation until we were out of this mess. If we got out of this mess.

Standing up, brushing rotted bark off my chest, I stepped back onto the trail and darted toward the trail sign. As I studied it, the helicopter engine droned to a halt. I found what appeared to be the trailhead less than a mile away. This exit from the hiking trails led directly into a structure labeled Park Office. I’ve been to many of these types of places before. I knew that they would have some limited equipment and maybe even some dry clothing.

I explained what I saw to Kyle and Jarvis, and pointed in the direction I thought we’d have to go. Anywhere would have been fine if it was away from where those bastards that had just landed were starting their hunt.

“Can you walk, Jarvis?” Kyle asked.

“I can limp if you’ll help me a bit,” he responded.

The two of us ducked under each of Jarvis’s arms and lifted him up. His legs were dragging through the trail below us, more than limping along as Kyle and I took off in as much of a sprint as we could muster.

As we moved along, I kept my ears tuned to the sounds of the forest. We could just barely hear them moving around in the distance. It would have been easy to mistake the sounds for small animals scurrying around, foraging for food. However, it felt like Lady Luck was out for lunch, leaving us on our own. Besides, we knew better. There was no doubt the walking dead were lurking in the forest. How many and how close was nearly impossible to tell.

Having to pull Jarvis over a fallen tree that lay across the trail was the most difficult thing we ran into before we reached the edge of a parking lot. With a good sweat worked up, my eyes darted from one side of the dark abyss to the other before finally landing on a winding path that led to a small office up on a hill across from us. The building sat below what appeared to be an old fire tower. At first glance, it looked more like a relic than something still operational.

As we took our first cautious steps into the lot itself, I saw three massively decomposed corpses on the black tar pavement. One of them was leaning up against a silver SUV with its severed hand dangling from a set of keys stuck in the door.

Guess he could have used a hand getting into his vehicle.

Standing over the body, I rubbed a circle in the dust plastered against the side window and stuck my face to the glass. Lowering my shoulders, I realized that it had already been picked clean, much like the set of bones resting at my feet. Snagging the keys from the door, I rattled the hand loose, letting it fall to the ground, and opened the door. After a few twists, I confirmed what I already had feared. The battery was drained.

From the rear of the truck where Kyle was standing guard, a small scratching sound caught my attention. Sliding around the rear wheel, I peered around the edge to see him digging his fingernail into the rear windshield.

Curious, I stepped a little closer, only to find that he was picking at a set of decals in the shape of five white stick figures. Two adults, two kids, and one in the shape of a dog.

“What?” he asked, almost defensively, before the decal in the shape of one of the parents slipped off and floated back and forth to the ground like a dead leaf falling from a tree.

Shaking my head, I looked out to the rest of the parking lot. There were two full rows of white-painted lines to help guide parking running up and down the oval lot that led up to the office. From the sky, I imagined that it must have looked much like the giant skeletal remains of a fish.

Feeling nearly trapped in that small section of human-made park, I gazed along the line of forest that ran around the whole parking lot as well as up and around the hill that the office and the fire tower sat on. Breathing deeply to regain my bearings, I couldn’t help but notice that we were nearly fenced in by the overgrowth of the woods.

As the moonlight traded places with a series of clouds, a darkness stole what little visibility we had, causing the hair on the back of my neck to stand at full attention. What lurked beyond those trees didn’t immediately bother me. It was not being able to see what was two steps in front of us that had my mind set at a full panic.

Kyle stopped just outside the office building as the clouds shifted away, illuminating the exterior. Pausing for a few seconds, he finally whispered, “Sounds quiet. You hear anything?”

Tripping across the roots of an old oak tree which hung over the roof of the building, I stopped briefly to listen.

“No. Not a peep… If there’s anything in there, it’s been working on its patience.”

Sizing up the building, Jarvis added “Not one scratch on it. Windows seem intact and the door looks like it may actually be locked.”

“Hell, if it wasn’t for the weeds overgrowing through that wrought iron fence over there, I’d think the place was still open for business,” Kyle said, almost distantly.

He was right. As we continued slightly closer, I felt a sense of familiarity with the seemingly fresh painted brown exterior walls and the wrought iron fence that surrounded the place. It had that genuine rustic feel that I’d always loved when out in the wilderness.

Aside from the grass, weeds and unkempt trees, the place looked like it had been unscathed by the apocalypse. If it weren’t for the bodies resting in the parking lot, I might actually have let myself believe that.

Propping Jarvis up against the oak tree, I noticed the moonlight creating a dim shadow from the limbs above, almost appearing to scratch across our worn bodies like a giant decrepit hand. Lifting the hammer from my side, I pushed the thought from my mind as I noticed Kyle rooting around in the yard.

“What are you looking for?”

“Protection,” he replied, lifting a leg up, over a short brick wall, and into the field.

At first, he spied an oversized tree branch sticking up from the tall grass. Kicking it with his boot, he looked dismayed at the flimsiness of the rotting wood. I watched his gaze flicker as his eyes surveyed the building itself, finally stopping directly on the wrought iron fence that protected a small, weed-filled garden. Reaching down, he grunted as he slid his boot under one of the posts, testing its integrity. Giving it a good shake, he found one that was just loose enough for him to pry free. It was about three feet long, and fashioned a heart-shaped spike at the tip.

With a soft snort, he slung the post over his shoulder. I could nearly see his teeth shining in the moonlight as he grinned like a child with a new toy. Kyle had officially found his very own Z-Saber.

With a quick flick of his hand, Kyle motioned toward the building. The two of us tiptoed up to the front door. Leaning in, I shot dust into the air as I blew on the glass before putting a hand up against it to block the slight glare from the moon above.

“Nothing moving,” Kyle said.

“Nope.”

“Whatcha think?”

“I can’t see shit, but the place has gotta have something useful aside from that scary as hell mannequin in the window.”

The only thing that the moonlight allowed us to see was the upper torso of a mannequin wearing a bright red t-shirt with large font wording that read:

Welcome to Fire Tower Park

Preventing Forest Fires for Over 100 Years!

“Shh… Do you hear that?” Kyle asked, turning around to peer out into the forest.

I listened intently until I did. Something was running through the trees. It was distant, but close enough for us to know that it wasn’t just some squirrel trying to find its nut.

“Over there! I see light,” Jarvis whispered with a low enough tone to make you think he was cursing in church.

Barely visible through the trees and far enough in the distance for me not to freak out just yet, I could see what appeared to be a few flashlights bobbing up and down toward the water we had just escaped from.

Kyle glanced at me, and I nodded. Both of us shifted our shoulders toward the front door. We knew we needed to get inside to see if we could dig up any supplies, but it had to happen quickly. None of us wanted to be stuck in this old building when Gordon’s men showed up.

After reaching down and slowly trying the knob, Kyle pulled his hand back and glanced over his shoulder one last time Seeing what he was about to do, I took a step back and watched as he lifted his boot and kicked in hard against the wooden door.

It burst inward with a crack, a bit too loud for my comfort, shooting splinters across a dust-covered floor. Leaping inside, ready to strike, the two of us stood there like morons for a moment as we peered around the shadow-infested room. Shifting my wide eyes from one set of cobwebs to another, I took a deep breath in, feeling a blast of stale air fill my nostrils.

Exhaling, I came up from my crouch, realizing the place appeared clear of Zs. Cautiously inching forward, I ran a hand across a near empty wooden shelf while surveying the few things that were still available for the taking. Weapons would be nice, but I certainly didn’t suppose we’d be finding any firearms in the place.

“Check this shit out,” I heard Kyle whisper with a little too much joy as he pulled a double-barreled shotgun from the contracted grip of a decomposed body lying behind the counter.

Looking over the top of an old metal register, I noticed that the decaying body was wearing a camouflage National Rifle Association (NRA) hat, and was missing a leg. Before the person died, it was clear that he had tried to shoot off his leg, as the stump still sitting in the boot was just a mere “foot” from where he lay dead. The hole starting at his mouth and running through the back of his skull had me guessing that he was getting ready to turn—just before he decided to end it.

“Must have gotten bit, and tried to sever the wound,” Jarvis said in a low voice as he eased toward us.

“I haven’t seen that work yet,” I replied.

“Either way, bless these NRA nuts,” Kyle said as he reached into the body’s front vest pocket and pulled out a handful of shells.

Eyeballing the rest of the dark room, I could see that it was mostly set up like a small museum. Stopping in my tracks, there was a moment where I nearly shit myself as I realized three frozen human figures were standing in the darkness across from us. After a few horror-filled seconds spent straining our eyes, we quickly realized that they were simply another set of mannequins. Each one propped up, displayed with knitting and sewing supplies—evidently reenacting what it took to make clothes before Americans could simply drag their fat asses to the nearest Walmart.

Pulling myself together, I glanced toward one of the walls. Spread across it was a mural that proudly displayed a series of children dressed in clothing that the original settlers of this area must have worn. A picture forever captured in time. All the children looked so happy. Momentarily thinking of Tyler, I wondered if he’d ever have the opportunity to be around that many other kids.

It still saddens me to know the answer to that question.

After a few more hasty minutes of running through the place, we pulled together a pile of equipment that included three plastic lighters, a full trail map, and a small medical kit to help fix up Jarvis’s leg. To our dismay, no other real clothing (aside from the red t-shirt) or supplies existed. The place had been fairly looted before it was deserted.

“We gotta get a lay of the land,” Kyle said as we crouched down by the window. “Gordon’s men are out there, and who knows how close that mega-horde is at this point.”

“That fire tower is out there. Maybe we can get a good vantage point from there.”

“Good thinking, John,” Jarvis replied.

Moments later, we crept outside, listening for any movement in the distance. The lights we’d seen earlier were nowhere in sight, leading us to think Gordon’s men had gone in a different direction… at least for the moment.

“Who’s gonna go up?” I asked with a gulp, already knowing the answer.

Kyle and Jarvis just stared at me as my shoulders dropped once more and I slid the hammer into my belt. Turning away from them, cursing myself for being the most nimble of the group, I reached up toward a ladder that led up to a platform which in turn led to a set of stairs that spiraled to the top of the tower.

I had seen fire towers in the past during backpacking trips, and knew that most of them were no longer in use. They were often at the tops of hills, giving people a good vantage point over the forest to watch for smoke. Some parks used scarce resources and funding to try to preserve them. With rotting wood and bent metal, this one felt like they had let it fall to the wayside. Still, we had to figure out what the hell was out there. For all we knew, there was a pack of creatures roaming around just outside the parking lot below. I found myself praying the moonlight would help me see well enough to be able to tell.

Glancing over the edge after reaching the first level, I looked down toward my friends. Kyle was standing guard with the shotgun held high, while Jarvis was plopped down against the base of the tower, tightly wrapping gauze around the red t-shirt that he’d tied across his leg to help slow the bleeding. I kept climbing.

Letting out a tired exhale, I pulled myself into the top of the fire tower. I stopped gritting my teeth once I found the floor absent of anything dead… or alive. It was made of wood. I could hear tiny slivers of dry rot falling to the ground below with each step. Attempting to balance my weight, I gripped a set of metal railings, which shook back and forth, as I inched forward. A bizarre feeling, as if something was missing, crept into my mind as I let my eyes adjust to the moonlight. Surveying the swaying trees, I tuned my ears to the blowing wind as I realized what it was. The world was devoid of that rhythmic chirping from distant insects that would normally be heard on a night like this. My mind drifted to those humid summer evenings I’d often spent sipping on a glass of bourbon while trying to relax on my back porch. All the while, that calming chant singing to me in the background. Tonight, it was as if they could sense the shitstorm was coming. Even the bugs knew to keep quiet.

With the moonlight peeking through the clouds, I could see a sizable chunk of the park below. In addition to the lake, it was apparent that a few other parking lots were spread out around the area, in between a massive expanse of trees and forests. What I didn’t see were any towns or signs of civilization. I also didn’t see anything in the form of Z hordes lurking around in our immediate area.

A set of dancing lights about a mile away caught my attention. It looked like Gordon’s men were still searching around the lake that we’d crashed into. To the left of the lake, I saw a larger set of lights, which I believed to be where they had landed the helicopter. I couldn’t see the vehicle, but there was illumination that could be seen bouncing off the tree limbs

Glancing down at Kyle, I flashed a thumbs up to let him know we were all right for the time being. He tilted the shotgun up a degree or two, acknowledging the news, then turned back to continue his survey of the immediate area. Not lowering the gun from his hip, he guarded the parking lot, seemingly on full alert.

After adjusting the backpack over my shoulders, I reached into my vest pocket and pulled the cell phone out. Wiping the glass plate dry with my sleeve, I reached up and smashed the upper right-hand button with my thumb, praying that it would still turn on after its bath out in the lake. Not even the tiniest flicker of light crossed its screen. Dropping my head, cursing under my breath, I could only hope it would eventually dry out enough for me to recover the last remaining pictures of my wife.

Forced to take a guess, I estimated that we had less than fourteen hours before we needed to get back. With a heavy sigh, I lifted my head and looked toward the tree line, but didn’t see much of anything. Keeping my eyes fixed on where I believed the mega-horde to be coming from, I leaned forward and squinted to see if I could make out anything in the distance. Nothing could be seen through the cloak of darkness.

I wish that meant nothing was out there.

The wind died to a near calm, and a slightly audible sound hit me. It was a very low-level moan. Rather, a low level of multiple moans. I couldn’t see them, but I could hear them.

I felt my skin crawl at the realization that the roar of the mega-horde was close enough to be heard. I had no way of telling how close they were, or how fast they were moving.

But I knew we had to get the hell out of there… fast.

Chapter 17

Best laid plans… often fail.

My feet hit the ground with a thump as I dropped off the fire tower ladder. Relieved that I wouldn’t have to head back up there, I explained to Kyle and Jarvis what I’d seen… and heard.

Mulling over our circumstances for a moment, we knew we couldn’t count on anybody from Avalon to pick us up. Hell, we didn’t even know if they’d overheard the broadcast between Gordon and Rodgers. Even if they did, there certainly wouldn’t be any way for them to pinpoint our position. Kentucky was enormous, and all they knew was that we were roughly fifty miles south of Lexington. It wasn’t much to go on.

We had to assume we were on our own.

That really only left us with two options. The first was to escape by trying to make it through the woods in the hope that we’d find a road and a car with a battery that wasn’t completely dead—unlike the cars in the parking lot. However, this option was a stretch after seven months. Modern vehicles have all kinds of little electronics that drain away at the battery even when the car isn’t running. We’d learned quickly that most cars were useless without a jump start after the first two months. On occasion, it was possible to find a car that was from the seventies that would still be running… but you wouldn’t want to have to rely on it. Besides, even if you did, it was a good bet the gas had long since gone bad.

Even if we could manage to find a working vehicle, we’d still have the mega-horde to contend with. Going around them could add days onto our trip back, and we knew we didn’t have long before Gordon would mount his attack.

Our other option—our only real option—was to hit the enemy head on. With a working chopper, they had the only key to open the door to our quick return.

They must have been following close behind us. It was the only way that Gordon could have known we crash-landed in the water. Gordon was a meticulous competitor, and a working chopper sitting within our grasps reeked of a trap. With no other option, however, we decided it was our turn to put the outcome of the game in our own hands, and the chopper was the only hope. It was time to step boldly into the lion’s den.

Huddling up for a few minutes, we went over our plan. We knew what we had to do. Now it was time to see if it would work. After all, it had to. We needed to get home.

No. Matter. What.

Setting the plan in motion, I helped Jarvis head back toward the end of the parking lot. Kyle stayed behind, putting together the final touches while letting us get enough distance between him and the hell storm he was about to create.

Hitting the trailhead that the map said would lead to a parking lot around the other side of the lake, I looked over at Jarvis. “You think this is gonna work?”

Wincing in pain as he glanced back up the hill toward Kyle, he said, “No telling what Gordon’s men are up to. I do know he’s probably already figured out ten different ways for his men to trick us into making a mistake, and he’ll be ready to capitalize on every one of them.”

I let out a deep breath, searching the sky. “You seem to know more about Gordon than you’ve ever let on, Jarvis.”

He lowered himself to the ground, using the wrought iron pole as a brace.

“You’re right, John. If we make it through this, I’ll tell you all about it. What I can tell you now is that the only way to beat him is to be unpredictable. It’s how we beat him in the Arena, and it’s how we’ll beat him tonight.”

If unpredictable was what we needed… we were about to hand it out tenfold, and none of us could possibly predict just how bad it was about to get.

Seeing the look in my eyes, Jarvis softened his tone. “Cheer up, old boy. If it’s any consolation, I don’t think we have much of a choice.”

He was right.

They had us outgunned, likely out manned, and time was against us with the horde quickly approaching. When a man has his back against the wall, he has two choices. Sit down and die, or stand up and put up the fight of his life.

We weren’t ready to die.

In the distance, I saw Kyle stepping toward the bunch of sticks and brush that we’d piled up at the side of the office. As he flicked the lighter he held, it illuminated what seemed like the whole area before he leaned in to set what should have been a tiny, makeshift campfire.

At first, the blaze was small—until he threw all three lighters into the growing flame. Darting toward us, he was only about halfway through the parking lot when the first lighter melted and burst open. A small but effective fireball shot out, setting the entire pile ablaze.

The other two followed, and before we knew it, the whole side of the office building/museum was aflame, reflecting an orange glow off the clouds above. The three of us ducked just inside the tree line and waited for the hell that was coming.

The muffled voices of men came from the direction of the lake. I could see the flashlights bouncing in between the trees, and then their rays bounced over the structure

I saw Kyle’s eyes were fixed on the woods. Jarvis made eye contact with me; we both realized that this fire was going to take off way beyond what we’d originally planned. What we’d wanted to use as a distraction was looking more like it was going to turn into a pillar of fire that could be seen for miles.

Smokey the Bear flashed into my mind. With his giant brown forest ranger hat, he was repeating: Only you can prevent forest fires…

I saw the blaze take hold of the tall, dry grass next to the home and travel wildly toward the fire tower. It spread and broke out toward the nearby tree line. Dry timber and blowing leaves resting at the forest’s edge strengthened the fire’s rage.

The voices continued to get louder as three distinct lights came bouncing into view. Gordon’s men were sprinting down the path that came to a head just across from where we were hidden. If this worked, they would be popping out just twenty or thirty feet from us. If this really worked, they would run right by and up toward the office. Holding my breath, I found myself almost looking up at the sky, begging for a break.

I didn’t get one.

A stick cracked sharply, pulling my attention to the first creature as it stepped out of the forest on the far side of the parking lot from us. It was followed by the sounds of two other creatures crawling from the tree line. Moaning loudly enough to call attention to themselves, they stopped Gordon’s men dead in their tracks. I watched as our enemy doused their lights and dropped to the ground just before exiting the trail.

Shit.

Drawn in by the glowing flames, the creatures stumbled toward the office. At first, it was just a trickle. A few across from us could be seen stumbling past one of the nearby cars. Then they seemed to be crawling in from all over.

Before we knew it, there were a dozen of them filling the parking lot. One of the rotting bastards still wore his forest ranger hat and sported the familiar, but bloodied, light brown t-shirt and dark brown shorts. He was dragging his leg behind him as if it has been crippled at some point.

Another few were still wearing their backpacks, which had pots and pans dangling from the bottom by what looked like carabiners that glistened in the reflection of the fire. One of the campers was missing an arm, and the other had a hole blown through its chest. I found myself wondering if they’d turned on each other while alive. Poor bastards probably came here trying to find refuge as the world turned to shit… that, or they were enjoying a nice trip when all hell broke loose.

As the stench of the horde hit us, I recalled the office building I’d worked in prior to Z-Day. The memory of that putrid smell. It floated through the halls each time some poor soul would build up enough courage to clean out the building’s communal fridge. A smell ripe with rotting sandwiches and mold-covered yogurt, left over from a wasteful set of fat asses who traded lunch for the quick burst of sugar calling to them from the vending machines.

Even as I write this passage, I’m not quite sure which made me sicker. The horde or that damn fridge.

The fire continued to spread up an enormous tree leaning across the trail. Almost as wide as I am tall, the tree had crooked branches that dwarfed the surrounding forest. I remember thinking that it looked old enough to have heard the world’s first scream. I watched in horrified amazement as the fire leapt from limb to limb, seemingly lighting the clouds on fire.

Glancing over at Kyle, I saw the metal on the shotgun he carried was gleaming, reflecting the madness of the fire’s fury as it took over the hill. He stayed steady, with the shotgun pointed in the direction of where we’d seen the flashlights go out. He was waiting for them to split up, and I knew he only had two rounds to use before having to refill. That meant one man would have the drop on him if we couldn’t time things correctly.

“Shit,” I cursed under my breath once again. Gordon’s bastards just sat there… waiting for what came next. They seemed to sense a trap. Any hope that they’d charge in like Rambo to find us quickly fell to the wayside. I could hear it in my head. HOLD… HOLD. Wait for them to fuck up.

Thinking back to Rodgers, the phrase, patience wins wars, ran through my mind.

There was no movement as both the living and the dead stared at the giant campfire. That is, until I heard a scream.

The sneaky bastards had been distracting us as much as we’d been trying to distract them. Aside from the three men with flashlights, there were another three creeping up behind us. It wasn’t until one of the sons of bitches behind us took a bite to the face that we had any clue they were there.

Unfortunately, for them… the same went for the creatures in the parking lot.

I looked back in time to see one of the men pull his trigger twice. Once for the creature, and once for the man with the bite across his face. Wincing at the shots, I glanced back over my shoulder toward the parking lot. To my horror, every mangled creature out there was looking right in their direction. Kyle was still down in the dirt along with Jarvis while I was busy becoming one with the tree I was hugging. Meanwhile, Gordon’s men repeatedly rang the dinner bell as they fired off shots at anything that moved.

At first, they were more than capable of holding back the slower creatures from the parking lot. The fire was creating enough light for them to aim, braining each of the Zs as they approached. However, before they had time to react, the creatures coming out of the woods behind them made it impossible to control the situation. Totally surrounded, horrified shrieks of pain were all that followed the clicks from the empty weapons once they ran out of ammunition.

Expecting the group with the flashlights to jump in, I was surprised to see that they sat still, hiding from the chaos that was taking place less than fifty yards away. With the flashlights now turned off, they knew we were still out there, and their patience was almost as terrifying as the monsters lurking around looking for their next kill.

The blazing fire tower, now completely engulfed, crashed down, smashing across the roof of the office building. Nothing like breaking a one hundred-year streak.

Smoke was filling my lungs and I was fighting back the urge to cough by holding my forearm across my face. The forest was at full blaze, and we needed to make a move.

Making eye contact with Kyle, I threw my hands up ever so slightly as to say “What now?” He pointed toward the fire, and ran his arm around the tree line that led to Gordon’s men. Then he lifted his gun a bit, and pretended to shoot it.

The fire was spreading around the tree line. With their spot in the woods closer to the blaze, it was only a matter of time before it reached them. I only prayed that the creatures wouldn’t find the three of us before the fire found them.

Looking out across the parking lot and field, I saw that there were more Zs stumbling around now. Their shadows from the fire were elongated across the far side of the forest wall, giving the illusion that they were at least thirty feet tall. Each step they took, amplified through their shadows, showed just how mangled their lifeless bodies were. I could hear the pots clanging together from the back of dead backpackers’ gear. Each step created a small ding that rang through the night sky.

Beyond the clanging cookware, the crackling of the fire was getting louder. Trees and branches were incinerating quicker than I would have ever imagined. I found myself completely amazed at how easy it was to start a forest fire.

Yep, no doubt about it, Smokey the Bear would have been super pissed.

Snapping back from watching the blaze, I realized that the cracks were louder than they should have been. With the fire still across from us, the noise was coming from the woods behind me. Not moving a muscle, with my face still pressed against the tree, I listened as each step broke another set of limbs and dry leaves. Clutching the hammer in my right hand, I fought hard to control my breathing.

It was right behind me, but I had no idea if I’d been seen. It came closer, and I could almost feel its fingernails running down my spine. Another twig snapped under its feet, seemingly inches from where I sat. Thoughts of not moving, playing dead, pretending I wasn’t there, all ran through my mind. In the end, I wasn’t waiting for chance to make the decision as to whether I was going to see my son again.

Patience, John, I thought to myself. The creature needed to be close enough for me to make one swing. I wouldn’t get another chance at this. No noise. No screaming. No alerting the others. Everything depended upon me cracking the skull in one quick move. Everything depended upon me doing this right.

A small bit of cold saliva ran down my neck. That felt close enough.

Gripping the hammer with every bit of strength I had in my fist, I swung around toward the darkness. Connecting squarely with the creature’s chest, I completely missed its head. Clenching my teeth together as it let out a grunt that I’ll never forget, I brought the hammer back down across its skull. Bone fragments shot across the dry leaves, making it sound like someone had thrown a handful of stones into the forest. The creature dropped with a thud across a fallen tree to my right.

Realizing the thing had grunted pretty damn loud, I crossed my fingers as I slowly turned around, only to find three more creatures honing in on my position. This was about to get nasty… and fast.

Chapter 18

It was killing time, and I didn’t see a clear way to make sure we weren’t going to be on the wrong end of that equation.

Jumping to my feet, I stepped away from the tree ready for battle. Taking on three of the creatures was the least of my worries. Trying not to get shot by Gordon’s men… now, that was a different story. Kyle threw his hand toward me in a downward motion—Tomahawk Chop-style for the Atlanta Braves fans out there. All the while, he kept the shotgun scoped on where he thought Gordon’s men were hunkered down. He had my back, but I needed to cover my front.

Knowing there wasn’t another choice, I stepped toward the first creature to reach me. Bringing my hammer around in a vicious swing through its jaw, I watched as the Z’s mangled teeth broke out across the second monster, who relentlessly darted past its fallen comrade. Not having time to bring the hammer back up, I arched my back, wrapped both hands around the oversized handle and threw it upwards with every ounce of force I could muster. The curved sharp end of the hammer drove through the throat of the monster—causing its eyes to push out from the force of the blow.

As the creature dropped, I realized the hammer was stuck in its neck under the jawbone. Pushing my boot across its chest, I gave a good heave and yanked the jaw loose, flipping it into the sky over my shoulder.

Breathing heavily, I glanced toward Kyle. He was watching me with one eye while keeping a close lookout for the bastards across from us. As the final monster approached, I brought the hammer across it’s knee and quickly slammed my boot down through its face just as it hit the ground.

Kicking chunks of brain off my foot, I shot my gaze over toward where I thought Gordon’s men to be. For the briefest of moments, I thought maybe they had taken off, slipping away without us realizing it. We were the perfect distraction. How else could they just sit through all of this?

Across from us, a giant branch fell from its perch. Crashing down into the flames, it blasted tiny bits of dry burning leaves into the air. I watched in horror as they floated back down like tiny parachutes, setting another section of the forest ablaze.

The fire would have been beautiful if it weren’t intent on destroying everything in its path.

Just then, snapping me from the thought, I saw Jarvis lift his head up to look around the parking lot. Something had him spooked. Tuning my own senses to listen beyond the crackling of the flames, I dropped down as I suddenly heard it. Something, or rather some things, were moving at record pace just beyond the forest walls outside the parking lot.

It hit me in that moment… this fire would turn out to be the death of all of us. Turning into an unstoppable beacon for the dead, it screamed into the night, calling to the fastest creatures from the mega-horde, pulling them right in on our position.

We very quickly realized that the horde was not as compact at the edges as it had appeared from the sky. There were front-runners for sure, moving faster and more nimbly than the middle of the pack.

The first of the dead to reach the parking lot darted out of the darkness, hunched over, maniacally spinning around and searching for any signs of life. Digging my face into the ground, I peered through the tall grass, watching in stupefied horror as they moved between the cars and other fallen Zs. Somehow these creatures understood the flames, adding an amplified madness to their movement that I hadn’t yet seen. Any hope of it being a distraction like a good old spotlight might be was soon squashed as I watched them charge in toward the flames. They’d move in close enough to feel the heat, and then turn back and dart toward the black tar parking lot. They knew we were out here, and the bile coursing through their veins was boiling for the fight.

By the time I had crawled over to Jarvis and Kyle, there were six of the creatures running back and forth toward the fire. The crunching, snapping noises through the leaves behind us told me that there were more on the way.

“Did Gordon’s men takeoff? Is it clear?” I whispered above the roar of the fire, hoping that we could take off into the woods and away from this hell.

“No, I haven’t seen them move,” Kyle said without hesitation. “They’re out there.”

It was killing time, and I didn’t see a clear way to make sure we weren’t going to be on the wrong end of that equation.

A shriek, thirty feet from where we thought Gordon’s men to be, broke our conversation.

“Ohh God! No no noooo!” Two men jumped up, scattering out into the parking lot. Three of the faster monsters were descending upon the poor bastard they had left behind, who was calling out to the Lord Almighty. Screaming at the top of what his smoke-filled lungs would allow, he discharged his weapon into the air as the first Z caught hold of his leg, tripping him backwards while the other creatures dove down atop the unlucky son of a bitch, pinning him down.

I didn’t have the right vantage point to see everything that happened. However, I could see his arms flailing around trying to hold back the dead as he madly threw punches into the air. The bloody spray accompanying the dark flesh being torn from his body was the last thing visible before he finally stopped moving.

Wildly firing their weapons into the creatures surrounding them, the two men, now in the middle of the parking lot, stood at each other’s backs. They spun around, discharging a flurry of bullets into the dead circling up around them.

The chest cavity of one of the Zs blew out toward us. I could actually see the muzzle shot of the weapon through the dripping hole. Relentlessly, the monster continued to advance on the guy until he pulled his shit together and put a bullet into the thing’s skull.

We were knee-deep in death. Complete mayhem broke out as both of our two little groups stepped from our hiding places, ready to kill, or be killed. Gordon’s boys were less than twenty feet from us, and taking the bulk of the onslaught. Even with the light from the forest fire now engulfing everything around us, the gunshots still flashed brightly as each Z dropped around them.

The monsters were emerging from the forest in larger numbers now. Kyle appeared to be saving his rounds and was taking them down with the butt of his shotgun. I watched in amazement as Jarvis, dragging his crippled leg behind him, used the wrought iron fence post that Kyle had found earlier with spectacular precision. Not flinching for a moment, he dropped each creature that came within striking distance.

There was no hiding. We weren’t going to run up to the top of a building to get a break, or take off in our heavy duty Hummer to escape. We were in the open. We couldn’t even climb a tree to get away. They were all on fire.

For the briefest of moments, the parking lot was devoid of creatures, giving us enough time to look over at Gordon’s men. They were breathing deeply, awaiting the next wave of the horde. To my surprise, they both appeared young. Too young to be out here firing guns at us. I remember thinking that they looked no older than seventeen. When I was that age, I was fighting acne. These kids were out here fighting for their lives.

Making eye contact with us, both of the kids lifted their guns toward Kyle, who already had the shotgun pointed in their direction. The fire was blazing, weapons were drawn, and we had a giant horde of Zs honing in on our location.

Yet nobody pulled the trigger…

I watched as the kids looked at each other. Even through the smoke, I could see the fear in their eyes. This was a no-win situation, and we all knew it. Kyle nodded over toward the woods, while still making eye contact with them. In that moment, I realized that we had an unspoken agreement.

The enemy of my enemy was now my friend—at least for the time being. The odds were too stacked against us. We needed each other to get out of here alive.

I watched the taller of the two boys, who was wearing a red handkerchief around his forehead and a belt of ammunition across his chest, nod back and turn toward the woods with his machine gun.

Teenagers are often plagued with delusions of invincibility. At least, I know I was at that age. Nobody can hurt them, and they’re about as cool in their own mind as they’ll ever be. Mix that with the fact that they know everything, and you have a dangerous combination.

I had the feeling that any thoughts of knowing everything and being invincible left this kid’s mind the day the Zs started to rise. The same day he probably saw his first peer get mangled by the dead.

An image like that will kick start the hell out of adulthood. Everybody grows up much quicker now. Nobody is given the chance to enjoy it.

We’d be working together, trading each step through the blazing forest for the blood of the creatures that were quickly approaching. There was only one chance. We had to make it to the chopper.

The unspoken agreement pulled our two small groups together. Kyle waved his arm at the two boys and they darted over toward us, keeping their eyes fixed on Kyle’s shotgun. No words were exchanged. We knew what had to be done as Kyle threw Jarvis over his shoulder, and we started down the seemingly long path leading back toward the water’s edge.

With the backpack of meds bouncing off my back, every muscle in my body told me to stop. It screamed at me to lie down and rest.

“Keep pushing! We’re almost at the water,” Kyle yelled at me as he realized I was starting to slow.

The two creatures running toward us, completely on fire, helped me jump back to attention. They moved up on Kyle first. Jarvis, still over Kyle’s shoulder, took a wide swing with Kyle’s fence post, knocking both of the melting creatures off their feet. They struggled, trying to get back up, the smell of their burning flesh momentarily filling the air as I leapt over their smoldering bodies like hurdles, and kept moving toward the water.

Don’t look back!… flashed through my mind… Keep moving!

Hitting the trail back at the water’s edge, where we’d initially pulled ourselves out of the lake, Kyle turned back toward our two frenemies.

“The chopper, it’s just past the lake over there, right?” he said, pointing toward where we’d seen it land earlier.

They both paused, unsure of how to respond.

“Yes or no, kid? No time to figure out whether we’re going to kill each other or not!” Kyle barked, prompting the taller of the boys with the ammunition belt across his chest to respond.

“Yes,” Mr. Ammo said timidly, pointing over toward the lights that still glowed from where the helicopter sat.

“Are there men waiting to ambush us?”

Mr. Ammo looked to his friend, then back to Kyle while ever so slightly nodding yes once again.

Kyle shook his head, as I reached a hand up to my face, trying to rub the smoke from my eyes.

Covered in soot, I very quickly managed to dig more black dust into my eyelids, which felt more like sandpaper on the inside than actual skin. Inching toward the water’s edge, hoping to quickly splash them clean, I found myself frozen solid. Through the tears, I could just barely see the tiny seismic splashes that echoed off the nearby bank. It was as if someone was thumping a half-filled cup of milk, and my first instinct was that a bloated Z was floating nearby.

“Holy effing shit!” I heard one of the boys call out from behind me. Guess they saw it too, and it wasn’t a zombie.

Gazing down the shoreline, I nearly tripped backward as I realized what the source of the waves was. The rhythmic splashes running around the entire lake were caused by something much larger than one monster. The combined footsteps of the dead, marching toward us, were literally shaking the Earth.

The crap in my eyes no longer mattered. Fear pushed me forward as I chased after our little group that had taken off like bats out of hell toward the landing spot.

The horde was audible over the roar of the fire. Their moans, which created one giant whale-like bellow, had my skin crawling as we continued to rush down the trail. Looking over my shoulder toward the loudest point of noise, I could see some Zs dropping into the water across from us. However, the bulk of the horde was still further back.

If this were prehistoric times, I would have thought there was a herd of dinosaurs tearing through the forest. My heart leapt into my chest at the sight of the trees and brush, illuminated by the now clear moonlight, all being pushed down in the horde’s path. This army of the dead was tearing through anything in its way. Trees, fire, water—nothing would be stopping it from overwhelming us in just minutes.

There are bad moments, and then there are moments so epically bad that you’re never quite the same. On a scale of one to ten, one being unicorns jumping out of a pot of gold and ten being ass-raped by a T-Rex… this moment was turning into a twelve.

We were almost at the edge of the tree line that hid the helicopter when I saw that the fire had already spread to the tall dry grass that covered the field. Swallowing the lump in my throat, I nearly vomited it back up as we stepped around the final burning tree to see that the helicopter was covered in Zs, all with flames fuming off of their burning flesh. The chopper appeared to have attempted a takeoff, but had crashed before it could get high enough to escape. It was tipped sideways with all the rotors snapped, and the glass on the front was busted through.

The creatures were pressing their melting bodies against the chopper, tearing apart what was left of the pilot and a few other men. There were enough of them getting eaten alive to tell me that they had indeed stayed back by the chopper… no doubt the final trap to flush us out. Lucky for us, in the end, the only thing they flushed was their lives down the shitter as they were overrun by the creatures who’d gotten there first.

“They tried to take off without us!” Mr. Ammo yelled out, almost surprised to see that they’d attempted to leave him and his friend.

We all stood there, hunched over, trying to figure out what to do next. I watched as Gordon’s boys frantically looked around for any other fallen friends. The smaller of the two boys, who was holding a gun that was clearly too big for his stout frame, was at full alert—ready to blast anything that stepped out of the shadows. He had a shaved head, that giant gun, and a look in his eyes that screamed fear.

Shaking with exhaustion and fueled by terror, I stared out at the sky, watching as the smoke from the forest mixed with the clouds, making it difficult to tell one from the other. The moon was shining, but only barely visible. I was trying to clear my mind, but not a plan in hell was popping into my brain.

We’d rolled the dice, and came up with snake eyes. We all fucking knew it.

Kyle turned toward the group, setting Jarvis down on the ground to rest his back. As the rest of us worked through the various stages of accepting defeat, Kyle stood a little taller, and lifted his shoulders a little higher. Looking at the chopper, then back at us, I could see something in his eyes, and it wasn’t surrender.

“We’re heading there,” he said as he carefully pointed toward the woods with the least flames.

“But that’s back where the horde is,” Mr. Ammo said.

“Then stay here!” Kyle fired back.

Mr. Ammo and his shorter friend stood dumbfounded.

Kyle dug the butt of his rifle into the dirt below him, glaring at us as he belted out, “We are going to survive! We are not going to die like this! It’s time to ask yourself one thing. Do you got the stones to keep going?”

Shifting his shoulders toward us, staring directly into our eyes, he took a deep breath and continued with a determination I hadn’t heard in his voice since the Arena.

“Jarvis, you have the stones to make it back to your people? John, you got the stones to get back to your son? I’m going to push through this nightmare. I can tell you one thing, tomorrow I’m waking up next to Mia!”

Standing a little taller, I met Kyle’s glare with a nod that told him I was ready for the fight. My son Tyler needed his father, and this war was far from over. Kyle nodded back, and then looked down at Jarvis, extending his arm. Jarvis shot out a hand, and he was pulled up to his feet.

“Let’s get back to Avalon, boys!” He punctuated this by slamming the wrought iron fence post into the dry, rocky dirt at his feet.

It was time to push ourselves to the next level of endurance. It was time to go further, dig deeper, push harder than we’d ever gone before. Only time would tell if we’d make it.

We all thought we had the stones, even Gordon’s boys. Now it was time to prove it.

Chapter 19

NOTHING.

The heat from the fire radiated against my skin, and it felt like the body armor I was wearing was starting to melt. I wasn’t sure if it was burning, but I could almost taste the smell of melting plastic in the back of my throat.

For a moment, it felt as if the fire was alive, and moving in to cut off certain escape routes, blocking others with fallen debris. The bastard was daring us to try to make it, and putting up every defense it could throw at us.

At one point, an entire tree dropped down directly in our path. With the blaze to the right and left of the trail, we couldn’t simply go around the tree, and the flames shooting off the bark in front of us were too high to jump over. On the verge of turning back, we watched as the smaller of Gordon’s boys lifted his oversized weapon and started to fire. Screaming with delight, as the bullets tore through the burning tree, he blew a hole just large enough for us to squeeze through. It was us versus this most ancient of man’s foes, and none of us wanted to let the fire win.

A savagery pumped through my veins. The primal instinct to do whatever it would take to beat the flames. Another branch fell from above. Reaching up to shield my face, I knocked it away with my forearm. Feeling a burn across my chin, I realized my beard had caught fire. No stopping. No time to tend to the wound. It wasn’t the last one I’d get that day. We all kept pushing.

We just had to make it to the pass beyond the lake. When we were nearly at the tree line that would take us around where the fire had not yet reached the brittle forest, I took one last look over my shoulder. With the exception of some creatures dropping directly into the lake, most likely destined to live a waterlogged existence along with what was left of Rodgers, the mega-horde appeared to be splitting in two around the edges. I couldn’t be sure, but we appeared to be on the far left side of the horde’s path.

I could only hope that we’d be able to evade the bulk of the onslaught.

As we hurried around the tree line, a gust of wind pushed our mismatched group back. As the black, now melted body armor across my shoulders flapped from the force, I realized that the flames we’d made it past were literally trying to suck us back, soaking up all of the oxygen from the forest ahead.

Throwing caution to the wind, literally, we plowed through into the depths of the dark forest. With limited time to pass back between the fire and the horde that was quickly approaching, I went into a mental state that long distance runners often refer to as a runner’s high. I wasn’t even feeling my legs or my muscles, which I was sure would kick into full throbbing pain the next day; I found myself able to make each leap forward a little longer, pushing myself to move a little faster. Every step counted, and I knew it.

Fear is an amazing thing. Scientists say that our ancestors evolved based on fight or flight, that most basic of human instincts, and it was kicking into full gear for all of us.

I didn’t hear moaning at that point. Rather, as we came up close and personal with the creatures getting ready to overrun us, screams of terror were all that radiated through my mind. Looking back now, I’m not sure if it was me screaming or someone else in my group. For all I knew, we were all shitting bricks as the zombie horde hit our path.

Kyle was leading the way, with Jarvis still across the top of his shoulders. For the briefest of moments, I witnessed Kyle trip up. Try as he might, he wasn’t going to keep this pace for much longer.

The first of the horde began blocking our path, rolling onto the trail like an avalanche of sloppy shit running down a jagged hill. There were so many of the creatures sifting through the trees that there was nothing we could do but start to fire, swing, punch… hell, even spit at the bastards.

The stockier of Gordon’s boys didn’t let up on his trigger. Amongst the violent sparks of muzzle flash, nothing stood out more than the bullet cartridges flying off to his right. I don’t have a clue what kind of gun it was, but the cartridges were big enough to be nearly as loud hitting the ground as the gunfire itself was.

Black spatter was blasting up all around us, and there was a point where I wasn’t sure who was friend and who was Z, all while we darted through the darkness attacking anything in our way.

Through the moonlight, a steep, tree-covered hill emerged at the far side of the trail. Passing the bulk of the Zs in the front of the pack, I heard Kyle yell out something about just needing to make it to higher ground.

You got the stones to get to your son, radiated through my mind. It was a challenge, not a question. Kyle always knew the right buttons to push.

Sweat was rolling down my face, mixing with the soot melted across my forehead, making it near impossible to see.

“Thirty yards, we can make it!” I heard someone yell out.

Leaving the thickest of the horde’s numbers behind, I knocked through each monster in my path while attempting to avoid the now-thinning group ahead of us.

With each step, I kept repeating the word “NOTHING!” Swing of the hammer, then another step. “NOTHING!”

“Twenty yards!” I heard another person scream out.

I looked up toward the direction of the voice, which gave the creature to my right just enough of an edge to snag my leg. Face hitting the dirt with a thud that rang through my ears, I found myself sliding through a thick broken branch which snapped across my shoulder. Momentarily dazed, I flipped over, having just enough time to look straight up at the only visible light in the sky, a series of magnificently floating embers which seemed to be gracefully swimming through the passing clouds. Then I felt my entire body jerk back.

Grabbing for anything to hang on to, I started to panic at the realization that I was being dragged by my boot with two creatures fighting over which was going to get to sink its filthy teeth into my flesh.

My mind flashed to my wife Jenn, those deep red eyes that had blankly stared at me as she turned into one of these creatures. I’d spent countless weeks thinking back to what I could have done differently to save her. There were times when I didn’t believe I deserved to be any more alive than her. In the end, I realized that there was only one thing I could ever to do: honor our love.

Love. Sometimes it’s all you need to give you the strength to do what it takes. That day, it was the only thing that saved my life.

Arching my stomach, I pulled both of my legs in, actually bringing the creatures within inches of my face, then dug in with every ounce of strength left in my body and kicked outward, knocking both of the dead off balance. Breaking free of their grasp, I rolled up to regain my stance and screamed in the most primal of screams.

“NOTHING is going to stop me from getting back to MY SON! NOTHING!” I brought the hammer down across the closest creature, turned and sprinted the short distance toward the hill.

Feeling the Zs reaching for the hair on the back of my head, I reached the incline.

“Grab my hand! Grab it now!” Seeing nothing but an arm in the darkness, I grasped it at the wrist and was yanked up the steep incline just as another of the dead wrapped its arms around my leg. My boots took a nice bite, but it wasn’t hard enough to break through the leather as the arm I was holding pulled me up and away from the death below.

Even the moonlight didn’t shine brightly enough to help us truly understand how steep the hill actually was. Nor did it reveal that amongst the thick trees the ground was almost completely covered in bowling ball-sized boulders. It was nearly impassable. Nearly being the key word. We could move up it, but not at any quick pace. Fortunately, it appeared too steep for the mindless monsters below to be able to navigate. They were piling up at the edge of the incline, crawling over each other to try to climb toward their prey.

From time to time, I would see one make it a few yards up, but these creatures, especially the slower, more decomposed ones, didn’t have the dexterity to navigate the jagged terrain.

Looking up to the man who had grabbed my shoulder, I made eye contact only to realize that it was the taller of the two boys, Mr. Ammo. After making sure I was set on a sturdy perch, he started to fire the last of his rounds into the creatures clawing at the bottom of the vertical pass.

As his bullets ran out, we both turned toward the peak to start our ascent. Glancing above us, I briefly made eye contact with Kyle, who with a grunt was dragging Jarvis behind him. They had made it, and it seemed that I was the laggard of the group. At least that was what I thought before hearing another burst of weapon fire from below. The stocky boy’s machine gun was screaming out into the night.

Spinning around, I heard Mr. Ammo crying out as we realized the stocky boy was nearly surrounded by over twenty Zs. About to be overrun, he quickly reloaded with what I’m sure were the last of his rounds. I could see the creatures being mowed down all around him. Split in half, heads blown off, the bullets passed through their weak flesh and into the forest around him.

He was screaming over the sound of the rapid fire as I watched a tree just beyond him splinter into a million pieces and start to fall. I couldn’t see where it landed, but it only seemed to draw more attention to where he was making his stand.

By the time the tree hit the ground, all I could see was his arm reaching up through the blood-covered Zs crowding around his body. I can’t be sure exactly, but I think that for the briefest of seconds, I saw him pull his face above the sea of creatures, almost like a man getting one last breath of air before sinking beneath the water to his death.

His eyes were white and reflected nothing less than terror back at us. Then he was silent.

“Keep going!” I finally heard Kyle scream back to us. “We need to make it to the summit.”

The climb was hell, and I fell flat to my face in the darkness more than once, smashing my chin and forehead into the jagged rocks. Mr. Ammo was ahead of me, and I could hear him cursing himself with each step forward. He knew he was fucked in a billion different ways, and his journey to safety didn’t end at the top of the hill.

Kyle and Jarvis flipped over the peak first. Losing complete sight of them, I pushed harder, being more careless, taking more lumps trying to catch up. With all the madness, for some reason not being able to see them had me unnerved.

Surprised that they did not look back down at us after they’d made the climb, I found myself even more crazed as I lifted my feet and arms in unison, taking advantage of the fact that I had the hammer to dig into the ground for leverage.

If there was a horde up there, we’d be finished. There would be no escape. No running after this climb. I was done, and I damn well knew it. Even with each step, I was practically spitting dry saliva out of my mouth, still whispering the word “NOTHING” with each breath.

At that point, I knew there was nowhere else to go. Nothing could have prepared me for what I found at the summit.

NOTHING.

Chapter 20

Reaching up into the heavens above us, practically begging for God’s help.

My muscles burned with every painstaking movement as the top came into sight. Beneath each step, the ground became slick and more brittle with sticks that cracked under the weight of my arms and legs. Between fatigue and the fear of the creatures below, it was no wonder I didn’t realize what I was crawling through. How could I have?

Staring up toward the summit, I watched through the darkness as Mr. Ammo pulled himself over the ledge. Still no one looked back down at me. My heart raced at the thought of what lay ahead, but there was nothing I could do about it.

I nearly lost my balance when my foot slid backwards on one of the rocks. I could hear what sounded like a piece of metal rolling down the hill behind me.

The crackling from the fire below almost overshadowed the moans from the creatures yearning to come up the hill after me. Almost.

Just a few more feet before I’d learn what fate lay ahead. Still, I pushed through. There were no other options.

Digging the sharp end of the hammer into the ground at the summit, I slowly pulled my aching body over the edge. Wide-eyed, I shot glances back and forth, trying to find my friends through the darkness. The fire was far below and try as it might, the moon wasn’t able to break through the clouds passing above. Between that and the smoke still tearing up my eyes, I simply couldn’t see jack.

Unfortunately, the creatures had no problem seeing me.

As my eyes adjusted, they were there, all low to the ground… staring up at me with those dead red eyes. They jerked and snapped in my direction, but for some reason, did not advance toward me. Jumping up, I nearly slid backwards, but managed to catch the groove of the hammer between two rocks on the summit.

I didn’t make a noise. Not because I didn’t try to scream. Hell, I opened my mouth and let out what I imagine would have sounded like the unmanliest scream on the planet, but nothing came out. My mouth was dry as sandpaper, and my throat was even worse.

They could see me, smell me, and sense me, yet something was clearly holding them back. As the tears cleared from my eyes, and my mind started to recover with the help of the much-needed oxygen being pulled into my lungs, I started to understand what this was.

Just as it all came into focus, one of the creatures tore its torso free from the rest of its body, which was securely strapped into a pair of chairs tipped over sideways just ten feet from my face. The monster was dressed in a beat up gray business suit, with a loose tie that was flipped over its shoulder.

I watched in horror as its entrails leaked out through the open wound of its stomach, and streaked across the rocky summit like a mop pushing through mud. The Z’s mouth was gaping open, salivating some sort of puss as if I was the first meal it had ever seen. One hand over the other, it pulled toward me, letting out a moan that seemed to fuel the rest of the creatures.

Squeezing my fists together, I put one hand on my knee and pushed myself to my feet. As I slowly rose, all of the creatures’mangled red eyes followed me in unison, unwavering from my tasty flesh.

With nearly nothing left, I fought for the strength to raise the hammer above my head. I could only hope that I had enough to put this creature down with one strike. It was clear I wouldn’t have the strength for a second.

Focusing on its head, and trying to make sure the blow would count, I didn’t notice the person to my left until he came in and drove a foot through the side of the rotten half-corpse, sending it rolling over the edge of the ravine. I watched as the tie flapped in the wind like a streamer while it fell into the darkness.

Jumping back at the suddenness of the action, I looked up to see Kyle holding a welcoming hand in my direction.

“John. Let’s get you away from that ledge,” he said as he stepped forward.

Even in the darkness, I could see the look of concern in his face as he edged toward me. He knew I was done.

Falling to the ground as I grabbed Kyle’s hand, he broke my descent as much as he could, and twisted my body around to where I was perched upright. Sitting there in what I can only explain as shock, I watched in awe as Kyle stood back up and waved toward Mr. Ammo, who was only a few feet back.

For the briefest of moments, the clouds parted, and the moon lit up the hilltop. Twisted metal that looked like someone had wadded up a two-hundred-foot soda can and tossed it into the forest lay before me. Behind it was a field of broken and fallen trees splintering up from the ground.

I eventually recognized the long cabin of a commercial airliner. Its wing was reaching up into the heavens above us, practically begging for God’s help. It would find no such solace, much like the passengers of this forsaken flight.

Realizing the mass of Zs were all strapped to many of the two-by-two airplane seats littering the ground, I looked out at their weathered bodies. They had likely been trapped in those chairs since the shit hit the fan seven months ago.

In the old days, I would have cringed at the thought of having to sit next to the fat sweaty guy on a plane for two hours. I gritted my teeth at the thought that it could have been worse.

Lifting their weapons, Kyle and Mr. Ammo stepped toward the group of buckled-in passengers and methodically drove their given weapon down through their skulls. Making quick work of the creatures, they continued canvassing their way around the wreckage to finish off any stragglers.

Finding some much-needed strength after sitting still for a few minutes, I finally looked over my shoulder to see Jarvis perched up against a metal box that lay sideways. Pulling myself over to him, I noticed that he was out cold. His lungs moved up and down under his chest plates, and I told myself that was good enough for now.

Propping my body up against the same tilted-over metal box, I came down against it hard. My first concern was that I would wake Jarvis, but he stayed dead asleep. However, my weight shifted whatever was in the box, and I heard something clinking around inside.

Looking up toward Kyle and Mr. Ammo, I saw their silhouettes on the other side of the plane, pulling luggage out of some sort of compartment and exploring the inside of the cabin. Later, they would tell me that the radio in the plane was useless. The battery was dead, and the cockpit was all but crushed into a thick set of trees, which had ultimately stopped the plane from falling over the edge of the ravine.

Sitting against the metal box, I decided I would try to make myself useful by doing a bit of digging around on my own. Pushing up to my knees, I looked over the edges of the box and found a small latch. Digging my nails into it, trying to break it free, I finally snapped the rusty piece of metal loose, causing a small door to slide open and hit the ground with a thud.

With a smile, I reached down and lifted up a handful of peanut packets and an assortment of alcohol-filled mini-bottles.

Creating a semi-circle of airplane seats facing toward the ravine, overlooking the dancing fire below, the four of us sat in silence chowing down on a feast of peanuts, crushed crackers, and a bottle of olives that we’d been able to salvage.

We were thrilled to have it.

The seats, all once a prestigious red, now were more brownish black from sitting outside in the elements for so long. Embroidered on the back of each chair was a logo that read Imperial Air in a bold, fancy cursive. Just below the logo was a slogan that read “Flight Fit For A King.” I’m not quite sure what the magnificently terrible smell radiating from them was, but it didn’t matter to me too much. I was just content to be sitting.

Cracking open the first mini-bottle, Kyle poured the clear liquid into a small plastic cup that looked like an imitation goblet from medieval times. Across the bottom, it read, “Million Mile Member Club.”

I cringed thinking that corporations would give away such horrible shit before the world came to an end… and we’d all felt like we needed to have it.

As a group, we’d agreed on a few things. First, Kyle talked us into having a small campfire in the center of our half-circle. We figured any creatures in the area would be drawn to the forest fire below, and it was getting pretty chilly up on the mountainside. I for one had no interest in being anywhere near a fire, but he nearly insisted that we needed it. He got it up and running pretty quickly with a set of matches he’d found in some carry-on luggage.

So much for the hours of airport I’d wasted over my lifetime.

Second, there was the issue of Mr. Ammo. After all, we were all trying to kill each other not too long ago. Three on one gave us the odds, and he knew he wasn’t going to get too far without us. In the end, we decided that we’d helped each other get this far, and we weren’t going to settle our differences tonight. We’d have to decide what to do next in the morning. Of course, that didn’t stop Kyle from threatening to toss “his ass,” as he put it, over the edge if Mr. Ammo made a single move he didn’t like.

Luckily, the kid got message loud and clear.

With the exception of the natural defenses that the hill provided and the cracked-open cabin of the plane, we were all but exposed. However, it was too dark to head anywhere, and at least here we had a few supplies to rummage through.

For the time being, no matter how much my mind told me we needed to keep moving, we had decided to stay put. I’m glad we did, because I’m not sure I would have ever heard the story that Jarvis told us that night if we hadn’t.

Chapter 21

Famous within the ranks of the nation’s elite… and he was drunk on the power.

Looking over toward Jarvis, I could see the firelight flickering off his face while he sat and chowed down on a bag of peanuts. He was in a fresh set of blue jeans and a black hoodie. I’d never seen him so informally dressed. We’d all found a new set of clothing amongst the wreckage. Trading in my melted body armor, I settled for a set of brown cargo pants, a black t-shirt, and a sweatshirt that was a tad too tight for my liking.

I noticed that Kyle kept looking over toward Jarvis’s leg wound, bleeding through the bandages, soiling his newfound set of clothing.

Taking a sturdy piece of metal, roughly two feet long, that he’d salvaged from the plane, Kyle placed one end in the fire and looked up to me with a slightly grim face before taking a swig from his goblet.

Pulling on two strings, Jarvis opened the top of the backpack and began rummaging through the bottles and small glass vials. With the help of the light from the fire, I watched as his hand emerged with a few pills that he downed with a swig from a mini-bottle.

Moving my eyes across the campfire, they landed on a bright white pair of Nike running shoes with a florescent green stripe nearly glowing in the darkness.

“Nice kicks,” I said to Mr. Ammo.

Smiling nervously, he looked down, twisted the shoes in the dirt, and said, “I always wanted a pair of these, but they were always too expensive. Don’t think anybody on that plane will miss them.” Looking out at the ravine for a second, as if not knowing what to say, he continued. “They’re called the Nike Pegasus. They say you can fly with them.”

Nodding with my own smile, I glanced at my boots, which had just saved me from a bite to the foot. Screw sneakers, I’d be taking a pair of boots with me to the end.

Looking up from the fire, Jarvis asked, “What’s your name?” while shifting his shoulders toward Mr. Ammo.

Pausing for a moment, Mr. Ammo looked at all three of us and finally responded, “Aidan.”

“Well, Aidan, I think you know our names, right?”

Nodding his head, he replied, “Yeah, I know who you are.”

“Do you? Or do you just know what Gordon told you about us?”

Thinking about this for a minute, obviously trying to choose his words carefully, Aidan replied, “I know you took up arms against Gordon and nearly killed him before he had the chance to escape your castle.”

Holding up his gauntlet, Kyle chuckled, repeating the word, “Castle.”

“Do you know who Gordon Green is? Do you really?” Not giving Aidan a chance to respond, Jarvis continued.

“A little known fact is that I was Gordon’s business associate for almost twenty years.”

Realizing we were about to be in for a hell of a story, Kyle sat up and cracked open another mini-bottle filled with bourbon.

“At first, we set off with all the right intentions, building wealth in the right ways. We were simply in the pursuit of what we called the three W’s.”

He took a breath, and paused with a slight smirk.

“Wealth, women and wild parties, boys. We were young, figuring out the world. Our business endeavors were on the level, and we had a heck of a time. Gordon is a brilliant man. There is no doubt about that. Once he started investing in the stock market there was nothing that could stop him. I would be amazed at the types of calls he would make, and at how often they would pay off. He simply seemed to always know which way the wind was blowing… and he was quick to cast his sail when it picked up a good breeze.”

Kyle reached down to flip the chunk of glowing metal in the fire, and turned his attention back to Jarvis.

“That smart bastard made our little holding millions. Heck, tens of millions. There was nothing stopping us. Money simply wasn’t a challenge anymore… and that may have been the problem.”

With a sigh, Jarvis dug his boot down and took a swig of his own mini-bottle.

“I can’t pinpoint the change, but at some point, Gordon’s mind started to twist. The same brilliance and drive that brought wealth seemed to have turned on him and started to push his desire to seek control. He wasn’t satisfied with money. He wanted power… and not the kind of power one gets sitting in an office chair on the one-hundredth floor of their own skyscraper. He was more interested in power over people.”

Looking over at the metal in the fire, Jarvis took the last swig from his mini-bottle, tossed it into the flames, and cracked open another.

“I wish I could say I saw it come all at once, but really, it came over time. I may have been able to harness his ambition. However, ultimately, I didn’t fully realize what he was capable of until it was too late.”

“You mean the Arena at Avalon?” Kyle asked.

Shaking his head, Jarvis responded, “No, that came later. Gordon’s freshman effort is where I really started to question his actions. It’s where the first sliver of the divide started between us… culminating in the eventual takeover of Avalon.”

He paused for a moment to look out at the fire. I was reminded of the creatures moving through the forest below us. The low, echoing, unified moan from the horde was moving through, around the forest flames, and away from us.

“You see, he knew he couldn’t have power without surrounding himself with powerful people, so he created a world within a world that he knew he could sell to the elite of New York. Outfitting a broken-down abandoned building that had ceased construction after 9/11, he created what I can only reference as a mini-compound right in the middle of the city. Outfitting it with bunk beds, a cafeteria, and entertainment areas, he managed to build his own control area. Once complete, he simply opened it up to anybody that would be willing to come in and live. Everything was paid for—food, shelter, and entertainment. There were a few caveats that everybody who lived there had to sign on for. First, anybody who entered had to agree not to leave for three months. They would forfeit their clothing, any possessions, and had to agree to live by the compounds rules, of which there were very few.

They would also agree to be video recorded at all times. There were cameras at each bunk, the cafeteria, and the entertainment areas. He even had cameras in the bathrooms… in the toilets and the showers. Privacy was completely signed away by the compounds’ inhabitants.”

Kyle reached over to a pile of wood that we’d gathered and threw a log onto the fire, sending embers floating out over the ravine. I watched as they parachuted down into the abyss and quietly out of sight.

“The compound attracted people from all ways of life. He had vagrants off the street that were happy to have a hot meal and a place to sleep. Then he had well-off people who just simply wanted to be part of his experiment. The people had to have all been a little nuts to join, but I think that is exactly what Gordon wanted.”

I glanced over at Aidan. It was clear from the expression on his young face that he was hanging on Jarvis’s every word.

“Gordon didn’t let me in on his little secret world until he had it up and running. He took me down there for the first time, and I witnessed what people turned into when they had no rules, no responsibilities, and were encouraged to do whatever they wanted. At first, I thought the idea to be brilliant. Something that he may be able to televise… kind of reality TV-esque. However, I quickly realized this wasn’t meant for the masses.

He took me to a back room that was outfitted with chairs and large flat panel TV monitors. The technology involved was amazing. Mission Control at NASA headquarters didn’t have jack on Gordon Green’s compound. The room also featured a one-way glass mirror that opened to a large white room fitted with padded walls. A number of prominent people of New York were plopped down in those chairs… simply watching the madness ensue. Looking up at the monitors, I was shocked to see people openly having sex on one screen, a fight breaking out on another. Two nearly naked men were picking a fight with a woman, nearly beating her to death for what seemed like fun. Nobody was there to interfere or stop anything.”

Pulling a deep breath into his lungs, Jarvis popped open another mini-bottle and chugged it down. I wasn’t sure if he was killing the pain of his leg, or the memory of Gordon’s compound. As he grew more intoxicated, his calm demeanor started to wane. In addition to the serious look growing across his face, I noticed Jarvis had an edge to him that I had previously not seen.

“That was when two men were pulled into the padded room. They both appeared be vagrants by my count. Rail thin with scruffy beards and matted hair. I watched Gordon pick up a microphone and instruct the two to fight. Only the winner would be allowed to stay in his world. So they did—fight, I mean. They beat the shit out of each other, boys, all because Gordon found his way to control. His way to entertain the powerful. He had become a celebrity of sorts. Famous within the ranks of the nation’s elites… and he was drunk on the power.”

Aidan finally asked, “Why did you go along with it? I mean, why did you stay friends with him? You could have just dropped all dealings with him if you truly were appalled by it.” He said this in a nearly accusatory way. However, I found myself questioning the same thing in the back of my mind.

“I have to admit, the whole thing was a bit intoxicating, boys. The rush of the fight, the control he had over the fifty or so inhabitants living down there and the caliber of people paying high dollar to come and watch his little experiment… well, let’s just say that I’m talking former presidents, CEOs and military leaders.

“But you’re right. I couldn’t stand by watching idle. The place got shut down by the NYPD. Somehow the word leaked out, and the police shut it down, citing that it was a cult, and against city ordinances.”

None of us asked if it was Jarvis that had called in the tip, but he sure as hell implied it.

Kyle picked up the metal piece that was smoldering in the fire and ash at that point, took a good look at the glowing end, flipped it once more and placed it back in the fire.

“So how did Avalon come to be?” he asked.

“Gordon had been building it for years. For all intents and purposes, it was operational when the dead started to rise. Realizing that violence was the truest form of entertainment, his new vision was to have gladiator-style battles. Live and to the death is how he explained it to me. He had already been hosting underground matches for a while. We’d gone slightly different paths by that point. However, when shit hit the fan on that first day of the outbreak, he reached out and invited me to his sanctuary. I didn’t know about the Arena until I got there. In Gordon’s mind, this is what he had been waiting for, and he wanted me, his partner, there to enjoy it. It was just a matter of putting a new kind of contestant into the arena. I knew I had to put a stop to it.”

“Jesus…” Aidan groaned, genuine shock on his face.

I’m not sure if he was playing to the crowd, or if he really got that Gordon was a monster. Either way, Jarvis didn’t respond. He looked over at Kyle while finishing off the last of his mini-bottle. Dropping his shoulders and taking a deep breath in, he looked down at the smoldering metal. “I’m ready for that now. Let’s make it quick.”

Jarvis put up a hell of a fight for an old man. He arched his back and nearly threw Aidan over the edge when Kyle first pressed the heated metal against the front and back of his leg to cauterize the wounds.

Holding a bandage over his melted skin, and just before he passed out, Jarvis looked up at Aidan and whispered, “Gordon has caused nothing but pain in this world, young man. You’d be better off to remember that.”

Aidan took a step back and stared out at the fire raging below. Kicking his new Nike Pegasus shoes into the ground, while twisting a stick that he’d been holding, I could tell that at the very least, Jarvis had got him thinking.

Chapter 22

Desperation seemed to shine a new light on what we were willing to do… how far we were willing to push ourselves to survive.

Kyle reached over and tapped my shoulder, pulling me from the uncomfortable half-sleep I was in. It was my turn to be on watch, and I grunted as I pulled myself upright in one of the busted airline chairs. We had moved ourselves into the cabin of the plane, deciding it would be the most defendable position should we come under some sort of attack.

Lifting my cell phone, only to find it still dead, I glanced over at Kyle.

Looking at his wristwatch, he said, “We’ve still got eleven hours. We’ll get back in time. We just need to sort through how. Hell, we’ve made it further in less time.”

“How long till dawn?”

“Maybe three hours.”

“We need to find a radio or a working car,” I said grimly.

“We will. There is something out there. The light will reveal it,” he responded before patting me on the back and lying down to get some rest.

After taking a deep breath in, I shook my head and walked away from the group to relieve myself. After watching a rainbow of piss flow over the side of the ravine, I decided to take a seat at the small campfire which had long since burnt out. Looking out at the scenery before me, I could see that the forest fire continue to burn bright, albeit now further in the distance. Luckily, it was burning away from us.

Dawn was close, but I could still see the moon trying to peek through the clouds and smoke on the far side of the horizon. Thinking back through the nightmare we’d survived below, I couldn’t help but wonder what the landscape would look like in the daylight.

Once Kyle fell asleep, I realized just how quiet it was out there. We were alone, or at least, I thought we were, in the largest forest I’d ever stepped foot into. The worst part about it was that we were completely out of ammunition, leaving us with nothing but blunt force objects to defend ourselves if something should force us to have to fight.

Tapping the wrought iron fence post against one of the chairs, I listened to the rhythmic moans from the creatures below. By my judgment, they were starting to diminish, letting me know that the center of the horde had likely passed by us at some point in the night. With the realization that the horde was now in front of us, I couldn’t help but shake the strange feeling that I could still hear the creatures in the distance behind us.

Not sure if I was losing my mind or not, I listened intently, unable to determine how far away the noise was, or how many of the creatures were making it. However, I was sure of one thing. It wasn’t moving toward us… well, pretty sure anyway.

Still, it created a stereo sort of effect, reminding me that, regardless of our little temporary safety, we were completely surrounded and we were going to have a hell of a time trying to figure out how to get home.

After a while, my mind finally drifted away from the monsters and toward Tyler and the first months of taking care of him. It had been an adjustment for sure, but I always found solace in the little things… like when he would burp over my shoulder, or giggle at me making silly faces. I smiled at the memory of the first time he’d opened his eyes and really looked at me, his father. I had all but thrown in the towel after Jenn had died. Tyler gave me a reason to keep on fighting. It was that look of pure innocence and trust that helped me to turn the corner.

I knew I couldn’t let him down.

Tapping the metal rod against the ground now, I suddenly found myself stewing at the fact that I was so far away from him because of Gordon. If we managed to survive this, I knew we’d have to make sure that Gordon would never be a threat to anybody ever again.

As the moon traded places with the sun, I inadvertently found myself sitting at full attention looking out at the aftermath below. Between the fire and the mega-horde, there was nothing left but ash. I could literally see the path that the creatures had carved through the dense forest, leading right up to where the fire had opened up and burnt everything away. In the distance, I could still see the tail end of the flood of monsters pushing through another section of forest. At some point in the night, the fire had shifted to the right, while the Zs continued forward. It created what I could only imagine looked like a giant fork in the road from above.

Squinting, I could see the ground below moving ever so slightly. The realization that it was Zs that had been mangled under the weight of the horde, likely because they were too slow or too small to stand up against its sheer force, reminded that in the end the zombies were no different from us. In this world, and even in the one before the dead began to rise, humans would run right over each other. Whether it was for something as seemingly significant as a promotion at work, or something as obviously fucking stupid as being the first in line on Black Friday to get the best deal on that big screen TV, the masses were bred to push past the slow and trample the weak.

“You hear that?” Nearly jumping out of my skin, I responded, “Jesus, man, what are you, a fucking ninja?”

Color had returned to Jarvis’s face and despite a nice limp as he stepped closer, he was looking a hell of a lot better than he had the night before.

With a warm smile, he apologized and repeated the question.

“I can certainly still hear that horde out there, if that’s what you’re talking about,” while shifting my eyes out toward the monsters pushing through the trees in the distance.

“No, not them,” he replied, pointing out beyond the rear of the airliner.

“Yah, I hear them too,” I said, letting my shoulders drop. “I’ve been listening to them all night. They don’t seem to be moving toward us.”

“That’s the point. They’re not moving.”

Thinking about that for a second, I realized he was right. Wherever the other group of zombies was, they appeared to be staying in the same spot.

Jarvis gazed out beyond the crashed airplane, which looked even worse in the morning light. “Ever known a group of Zs just to huddle up and hang out without something to keep them focused?”

Raising my head a bit, and following his gaze, I replied, “No, I guess I haven’t.”

Rubbing his leg, and then standing back up straight, Jarvis looked me dead in the eyes. “My best guess on how to get out of here is to follow the moans.”

Follow the moans. The statement buzzed like a broken alarm clock in the back of my head. I had never willingly followed the cries of the dead. Normally, I knew better… we all did. Desperation seemed to shine a new light on what we were willing to do. How far we were willing to push ourselves to survive?

When Kyle and Aidan joined us, we discussed Jarvis’s plan, and decided it was our best course of action. No matter what, the plane radio was not going help, and we decided that the helicopter that Aidan and the rest of Gordon’s men had flown in on was toast… literally. Besides, even if anything like the radio in it was still salvageable, the idea of trying to walk through the landscape below seemed insurmountable, especially with all the broken-down creatures ready to grab out at us if we tried to trek around down there.

Throwing down some more peanuts and a few bottles of water that we’d managed to dig up in the wreckage, we surveyed what we had left in terms of protection. With the guns out of commission, we weren’t left with much. Kyle grabbed his fence post, which had gotten him that far. Jarvis rummaged through the wreckage before cracking a faint smile as he picked up the long chunk of metal used to burn his leg. Coincidentally, it had burned into a nice jagged point. Aidan yanked a two-foot metal piece off of one of the chairs and wrapped part of the seat belt around the end of it, making it look like a sword of sorts.

Of course, I had my hammer, which I was plenty happy to be carrying.

Taking one last look at the chairs circling the campfire, as well as the busted plane, I couldn’t help but think that we were damn lucky to have found the place. Perhaps only the kind of luck that would happen in a bad book or stupid movie to continue the plot forward… but lucky all the same.

Getting down to business, the four of us ventured toward the forest in what Kyle called a “four man spread.” He explained that it allowed us to cover more area, while at the same time keeping us from being a line of sitting ducks for anybody or anything that may want to take a crack at us.

Moving past the debris left behind from the plane crash, we continued back into a thick forest, each of us trying like mad to minimize any noise as we moved through the leaves and branches.

Knowing I was no more graceful than a contestant from that old TV show The Biggest Loser trying to perform in a ballet, I could literally feel Kyle’s eyes drilling into me to keep it down. Suddenly, he completely stopped in his tracks. Knowing something was wrong, the rest of us froze.

Kyle was the first to hear it in the distance, but almost immediately, the echoing sound of a helicopter flew above us, shaking the forest canopy violently. It flew right over our position, seeming to head back toward where we had just come from.

“Gordon just won’t let up,” I whispered.

Jarvis lowered his head and met my eyes. “He never does.”

Aidan kept his eyes glued on the canopy, seeming to be in deep thought. He wasn’t alone.

As we continued along, I couldn’t help but wonder where the sounds were coming from. I saw no civilization or obvious place that would be attracting the creatures. Maybe there was a small cabin or farm out here. Perhaps someone was hunkered down in some sort of small bunker like you’d see in the movies or those end-of-the-world apocalypse preparation TV shows. The types of underground one-room living spaces that were cramped with nothing more than food, beds, and people.

Funny thing about those bunkers. I once read that they found a number of them filled with bodies sometime after World War II. More often than not, blunt force trauma was the leading cause of death versus starvation or disease. Looking back at it, I always thought those bunkers were nuts. Forcing a person to stay buried for months or even years cramped into a small one-room spot with a number of people seemed maddening. To me, the bunker idea always seemed like living in prison, only you’re stuck in the cell with your family or friends.

Some people can’t sit around the dinner table for an hour without some sort of fight breaking out. Stick them in an underground dungeon with nothing to do but slowly go insane, and it’s only a matter of time before someone picks up the nearest can of peaches and starts trying to kill everybody.

Nearly fifteen minutes into the hike, the cries from the creatures started getting loud enough to put us all on edge. Coming over a dark hill, hidden from the sunlight by the towering trees, all four of us dropped to our hands and knees, and pulled ourselves to its crest.

Kyle, slightly ahead of our little group, put his hand up and waved it down, signaling to us to be silent. Slowing crawling up to him, I squeezed the wooden handle of my hammer as I peered through the dimly lit brush. I knew what we were looking for, but it didn’t stop my heart from falling into my stomach at the sight of the thirty or forty creatures circling the base of a giant tree, reaching up into the sky above them. Each of the monsters was crawling over one another with their arms reaching toward its branches.

“What the hell’s up there?” Aidan whispered, with his eyes locked on the mass.

“No clue… but it’s gotta be something, or someone,” Kyle added.

“Look over there, boys. Another bunch is circling that tree,” Jarvis said, pointing at a tree maybe fifty yards to the right.

The group of Zs circling at that spot was smaller, at only five creatures, but they were doing the same reach to the sky dance as their friends across the clearing.

Kyle looked back and forth between the two trees before his eyes rested on me.

“What do you think?”

Before I had a chance to respond, we heard what I can only describe as a giant jacket zipper screaming at us from just beyond the canopy above.

Freezing, as if some sort of new monster was up there to get us, our heads shot up into the sky in unison, trying to see what the hell was causing the sound. Then, as suddenly as it started, it stopped. Still with no clue what it was, the same noise started again. Only this time, I was able to get a fix on where it originated.

Coming from between the two trees surrounded by Zs, the noise spun from one to the other. As it shot by, we could see some of the branches moving around in the forest above, causing a few of the drier leaves to come floating down to the ground below.

“Over there.” Aidan pointed.

At first, I couldn’t see what he was pointing to. Squinting my eyes ever so slightly, I gritted my teeth as I realized what we were looking at. In the second tree, surrounded by the smaller group of Zs, there were what appeared to be two men standing on some sort of wooden deck built into the tree itself.

As I stared at it in amazement, a third zipping noise rang out. Moments later, I saw a man seemingly float onto the same wooden perch. Landing his feet solidly on the deck, he reached up and unhooked himself from what I finally saw was a long metallic line that connected the two trees.

“It’s a zip-line.” Kyle whispered in awe.

Nodding, I thought back to a trip that Jenn and I had taken in the North Georgia Mountains a few years back. She’d surprised me with tickets to a pretty massive zip-lining canopy tour where we floated from tree to tree along a similar set of metallic lines. Grunting, I shook my head at the fact that I should have realized what the sound was right away.

Following the metallic line as best I could through the thick canopy above, I nearly shit myself as my eyes made out where the men were coming from. The tree, which was surrounded by the larger group of Zs, led up to the largest damn tree house I’d ever seen. It was massive, and was actually built across three, maybe four of the huge trees. Looking wildly around the tree fort, or should I say tree fortress, I realized there were two zip-lines leading to and from it. Holy shit, I thought to myself. It was brilliant. These people were moving back and forth from their base camp using zip-lines to avoid having to deal with the larger horde of creatures every time they came in and out. With multiple zip-lines, they probably had the option to choose the easier of the exits when they wanted to come and go.

Taking in a deep breath, I focused my attention through the canopy and onto the structure itself. The fortress was certainly nothing pretty to look it. Appearing to be constructed by whatever wood could be found, it was clear that it wasn’t built by a master carpenter.

However, it was massive, and had lights… which meant electricity! Perking up ever so slightly, I found myself wondering if it had a radio.

Watching in awe, I suddenly became aware of the growing sound. The moans were getting louder just below the men standing on the wooden deck hidden in the trees, pulling a few of the creatures from the other tree over toward them. Having been joined by two more people, the men on the deck were five strong. It was clear that they were growing uncomfortable at the decibel level of the monsters below.

“What the hell is that?” I heard Kyle whisper.

Not responding, my mouth dropped as I watched them lower a pole with what appeared to be a giant square box at the end down toward the creatures. Once it was hanging directly over their heads, the group paused for a moment to let the monsters all circle around it.

In a nearly seizure-inducing moment, the box flashed a bright strobe light for nearly thirty seconds directly in the faces of the creatures. In awe, we all watched as the monsters dropped to the ground at the base of the tree, paralyzed and twitching.

Kyle shot a glance at me. I realized he was smiling ear to ear just before he turned his attention back toward the action. We knew light could temporarily grab the attention of the Zs, putting them into a sort of standing paralysis. Damned if we had any clue that a strobe light would knock them the fuck out.

Moments later, the five men dropped a rope ladder from the tree and climbed down one after another, waiting while the rest of their group joined them. Ten men in total, they were all big men, some of them bigger than Kyle was. They were dressed in a mixture of manufactured clothing like what we’d found at the airplane and furs that they had clearly made themselves. They had a grizzled appearance, and looked like the modern day equivalent of savage barbarians.

“What’s on their arms?” Aidan asked with a twinge in his voice, looking almost ghostly white.

As they stepped over the pulsating Zs on the ground and moved toward a truck that was covered in a camouflage tarp, I could see that wrapped around each of their right arms was an orange strip of cloth.

“What? What’s the matter? What do you know?” Kyle said, looking over at Aidan, who blankly stared at the group.

After Kyle nudged him in the chest, Aidan finally broke from his trance and looked over at us with panic in his eyes. “We gotta get outta here. If you think Gordon’s evil… you don’t want to mess with the Stripes.”

Chapter 23

Getting back to my son was all that mattered. No matter the cost.

The rev of the engines shattered the silence through the moans from the larger horde. All ten of the men were piled into two trucks, which were heavily modified with armor and barbed wire. Squinting, I could see that each of the trucks prominently displayed an orange-painted stripe vertically down the exterior doors.

Just as a few more of the creatures from the larger horde lowered their arms and turned toward the vehicles, both trucks sped off into the forest, more than likely after the helicopter sounds that we’d heard earlier. Either that or they were going to check out the mayhem that they’d probably heard the night before. Either way, they were leaving the fortress, which left us with an opportunity.

Living above ground in a tree fortress was something that I would never have thought of. Even one of this magnitude. It was in direct contrast to the underground life we’d been subject to at Avalon.

Ducking back down behind the small hill we were positioned on, Aidan went on to explain that the Stripes, as Gordon’s men called them, were a nasty and highly aggressive group in the area that they had often tangled with. While Gordon owned an army, these guys used guerrilla warfare tactics to chip away at his men, typically going after weapons and ammunition. Most of the time, there were no bodies from either side left behind, just silent remnants of a gunfight or a destroyed vehicle… and many questions as to exactly what had happened.

A few months back, Gordon had assembled fifteen of his best soldiers to set out and eliminate the Stripes. They were all trained in tracking, and each possessed the same sort of guerrilla warfare experience as their supposed prey. After a week went by without hearing from the team, they finally showed their faces. Unfortunately, that was all they showed. Stuck on pig poles outside of Gordon’s compound were all fifteen of the men’s heads. Each of them with an orange stripe painted across their foreheads.

According to Aidan, the Stripes were maniacs. Realizing that we might be up against the worst kind of survivors of this apocalypse, I shuddered at the thought of what madness might lie in the fortress above.

With the frequency of attacks and amount of damage done, Aidan had always assumed that they had a large army. Maybe this was just a small lookout base, or perhaps this really was the full crew. Either way, nobody had ever seen them in any sort of numbers, or lived to tell about it anyways. Regardless, as the ten Stripes took off in their trucks, the fortress fell completely silent amongst the swaying trees, appearing empty.

Seeing Jarvis and Kyle eying the fortress as he finished his story, Aidan shifted his pale face toward me and said, “We should get outta here… find another way.”

Taking a moment to think about it, Jarvis finally looked out into the dense trees then up toward the fortress. “Look at those wires up there, boys. They’ve got to have a radio, and we need to get word back to Avalon.”

“Those Zs by the zip-line are still down. We can get in through there,” Kyle added.

“What if there are more of the Stripes up there?” Aidan asked, noticeably squeezing his fists together.

Cocking his head a little, Kyle said, “I don’t see any movement. Hell, we would have heard something or someone up there by now.”

Gritting my teeth, my mind was solely focused on getting the medication resting on my shoulders back to my son. As far as we could tell, there wasn’t a thing out here for miles. I could almost feel the thundering tick from the old wristwatch on Kyle’s arm as I stared up into the leaves above. Each second could be the one that made the difference for Tyler.

“This is our only option,” I finally whispered through my teeth. “There’s a chance that Mia and Richards heard the broadcast. There’s a chance that they could be heading our way right now!”

“Yeah, but there’s a chance that we’ll get killed or worse by heading up into that tree of horrors,” Aidan countered.

“You have a better idea?” Kyle asked, looking directly at Aidan, who shrugged his shoulders as his Adams apple moved up and down in his throat.

Looking around our small group, I took a deep breath and said, “I’m not sure about this Ewok village shit, but getting a hold of a radio is the only option.”

“Ewok village?” Jarvis questioned while looking at me with his head tipped sideways.

Dropping my shoulders, signaling him not to worry about it, I saw a small grin grow across Kyle’s face.

Jarvis moved on from the comment and continued. “It’s not just the radio we’re after, boys. Take a look over there.” He pointed toward the end of the second zip-line, which was nearly invisible through the brush on the other side of the fortress. Below the receiving end, there were two more vehicles resting under a couple of camouflage tarps.

“Avalon has its own problems to be thinking about right now. Sorry to say, John, but I hope they’re not worried about us. We’re going to need to find our own way home.”

Thinking about it for a moment, I placed my hands on the ground in front of me, and forced myself to agree that either way, we needed to get a hold of the keys for those trucks.

If there wasn’t a helicopter on the way, more than anything, we needed transportation if we were going to survive. One of those trucks could mean the difference between life and death for us out here, tipping the odds in our favor, something that we desperately needed.

With a few lucky breaks and some clear roads, if we really pushed it, we might actually have enough time to get back.

No, we would have time to get back. We’d find a way.

For the briefest of moments, as my eyes landed on the cars across from us, I found myself thinking about the fact that we were talking about stealing from these people. People who hadn’t done anything to us. People who were enemies of Gordon. With my mind spinning at the options, I lifted one hand to my knee and lowered my head.

Right there and then, I realized I was willing to do whatever it took. Getting back to my son was all that mattered, no matter the cost.

Despite the wishful thinking that the place would be empty, we knew there was a good chance that any number of things could go wrong. However, in the end, the risk was worth the reward. Even Aidan finally came around at the prospect of getting transportation.

Looking back at that moment in time, I was already losing it. Maybe it was already gone. Those of us who have survived have all lost a little humanity.

After a minute or two of discussing whether or not to split up, leaving someone behind as a lookout, we ultimately decided to stick together. Too many Zs in the area. Too easy to get caught outnumbered on your own. Besides, Jarvis was hurt, Aidan was a flight risk, and Kyle and I knew better than to leave each other’s side. We’d been fighting these things together for too long. You can’t replace that kind of trust.

As I stepped over the first Z that was passed out under the tree, my first thought was that it was dead. However, it was almost immediately clear that it, along with the other ones lying there, were rhythmically pulsating ever so slightly. We didn’t know when they’d get up or if they ever would.

Gripping my hammer tightly, I stepped quietly toward the tree where we quickly found the rope ladder. Looking up, I couldn’t quite see where it led to through the thick branches.

Gripping the brittle rope holding the wooden planks of the ladder together, I was reminded of the night before as the acid flowed through my worn muscles. Each step up felt like a mini-nightmare of pain. However, by the time my head hit the leaves in the oversized canopy concealing the platform where the zip-line ended, my curiosity took over, leaving me to feel almost nothing but intrigue.

We must have been twenty feet up before I nearly knocked my skull into the well-hidden wooden platform that wrapped around the tree. It was square in shape and big enough to hold maybe fifteen full-sized men without any issues.

To my left, a ten-foot ladder led up to another square wooden platform, which had yet another line shooting out from it leading back to the fortress.

Once we climbed the wooden ladder up to the second platform, I looked over the edge. Taking a gulp, I stepped back, trying to shake the lightheadedness as I realized I couldn’t see past the canopy below. Holding my hand against the tree to steady myself, I wondered how tall it actually was. We were at least thirty feet up, and this tree seemed nearly as thick here as it was at the base on the ground. There was no way I could see the top as I looked up. Too many branches and leaves.

A wooden box on the platform held a bunch of harnesses that we’d have to wrap around our bodies to slide across the line. Reaching in and grabbing one, I stepped into it and pulled it up over my legs, with the straps between my legs feeling pretty snug. Too snug for me not to be worried about crushing my ball sack the second I put any weight on it.

Kyle wound up helping Jarvis due to his hurt leg, but aside from that, we were all harnessed up in a matter of minutes.

Glancing toward Kyle, to the ground, and then toward where the zip-line led, I could feel my hands starting to shake. It wasn’t fear of falling, or of sailing along the zip-line. Hell, I’d done this before. I was afraid of what we’d find on the other end of the line.

“You want me to go first?” Kyle asked.

Trying to take a gulp of air, but realizing I couldn’t because my mouth was sandpaper dry, I responded with a whisper. “I should go. You need to stay back with Jarvis. I’ll signal if there’s something wrong on the other end.”

Kyle took half a step back as I slid a leather glove over my right hand, which I would use to help me regulate my speed. Stepping up to the line, I snapped the metal slider, attached to my harness, over the top of the zip-line. It fell in place with a click, and I looked back toward the three men watching with eager anticipation from the perch.

“Don’t use the glove until you get to the end. You don’t want to get stuck in the middle of the line. It’s a bitch to pull yourself out,” Kyle whispered.

Nodding, as if to say thanks for the advice, I turned toward the line, placed the glove on the metal to steady myself and lifted my legs.

At first, I found myself twisting a bit to the side, but it was fairly easy to gyrate to the center. That slight metal on metal zipper-on-a-pair-of-blue-jeans sound hummed as I moved along.

I could feel the breeze flowing around my clothing as I approached the denser forest. Holding my breath and closing my eyes as a branch slapped across my chest, I emerged on the other side wide-eyed.

I would have rubbed my eyes if I hadn’t been holding my hands out to steady myself. To my surprise, the line led to a tree with a similar platform, but that wasn’t the amazing part. My destination tree had a wooden bridge that led directly into the fortress, which stood at least two stories high. My stomach contracted as I realized it was much larger than what we could see from the forest floor.

Making the mistake of glancing down through an open section of the branches, I could see the Zs piling on top of each other below. They were all over the goddamn place, reaching up in the hopes that some morsel of meat would fall into their deadly grips.

Shooting my gaze up just before hitting the tree, I pulled the leather glove down hard on the line. For a second, I thought I smelled something burning, but that sensation was quickly replaced by fear as I realized I wasn’t stopping fast enough.

That’s when my harness hit a piece of rubber sitting on the line. It was a brake of some sort, and my whole body jerked forward, recoiling me backwards just as quickly. Twirling around before planting my feet and steadying myself enough to where I could stand on my own, I unhooked and placed my hand on the tree.

Leaning forward to look over the edge, never letting my hand leave the tree, I could see them below. There was simply no walking up to a nice little ladder and crawling up. Oddly, many of the Zs were wearing Hawaiian t-shirts. I thought of the plane crash. Perhaps the plane we’d spent the night at had been coming back from vacation.

Aloha, Zs.

Grabbing my attention, I could hear the steady purr of the zipper in the distance. The rest of the men would be coming down shortly.

Peering toward the fortress, I shuddered at the thought of what lie ahead.

Chapter 24

They won’t respond. Those bastards are done responding to anybody.

As we stepped onto the wooden bridge, I clasped one of the railings with my tired hands. Frayed rope moved through my sweaty palms as I bounced up and down with each step forward. Afraid to look down, I couldn’t help but keep my eyes fixed to the enormous structure ahead.

It wasn’t quite square in shape, although it seemed like whoever built it tried to make it so. Without any solid right angles, the fortress had a series of uneven walls with railings and windows throughout the first floor. Growing through and around the walls, many of the branches reached from the structure like eerily knotted fingers waving for us to enter.

Lifting my head, I could see that the second floor only had one window, which was covered with some sort of blanket that flapped in the light breeze. Leading up to the top of the fortress was a ladder which reached out toward the highest part of the canopy, leading to what I could only imagine was some sort of lookout tower.

Making the fortress seem almost electronic or mechanical in nature, I could see the series of wires, which Jarvis had noticed, running up and down the tree bark, leading to some sort of generator or solar power… maybe both.

As we reached a wooden deck that ran around the circumference of the main section of the fortress, the four of us ducked against the lower part of one of the wooden walls, stopping to hear if anybody had detected us.

Nothing but the moans from the dead called out into the forest.

We knew the zip-line was awfully loud, and we wouldn’t be surprising anybody with a visit. However, we still proceeded as if the place was filled with the Stripes. None of us knew what to expect as we walked through the front door.

I’m sure we couldn’t have guessed if we tried.

Wiping the sweat from my brow, everything in my body wanted to turn around and dart back toward the zip-line. It felt like death was crawling up my spine, whispering in my ear that this could only end poorly.

Over time, I’ve learned to trust my instincts. They mean everything. We ignore them at our own peril.

Looking at me, Kyle lifted his hand to the small door leading to the main room of the bottom floor. Reluctantly, I crouched forward, ready to move in. Nodding to Kyle, I lifted my hammer and sprang into the room the moment I heard the rusty hinges swing open. With Kyle and Aidan right behind me ready to pounce, we silently surveyed the room and glanced at each other through the corner of our eyes. Not a creak or movement in the place… for now.

To my surprise, we stepped into what I can only describe as a holy cathedral of sorts. There were four rows of pews all pointed toward a large cross that held a meticulously detailed wooden statue of Jesus Christ, complete with an orange-painted stripe running across his chest.

Gripping the base of the hammer, I quickly realized that the crazy factor had just shot through the roof.

Stepping around the makeshift benches and altar, I cringed ever so slightly as I heard the boards creaking under my feet. There were dim rays of sunlight shooting in through the cracks between the boards, showing how terribly uneven the woodwork actually was. I certainly wasn’t a building inspector, but even I could tell that this place wasn’t exactly up to code.

Walking through another door, around the other side of the thickest tree that ran up through the middle of the room, we saw that the inside of the place was outfitted with some dim lights. We could also see a pump of some sort that appeared to be able to pull water up into the fortress itself.

Darkness nearly swallowed a cabinet that lay at the far end of a filthy kitchen where the pump ran into an oversized bowl. Drawn toward it, I crept over to its large doors and lifted my free hand to a sticky wooden knob. Taking a breath in, I pulled open the door revealing a wall lined with canned foods and glass jars. Letting out my breath, I realized that these guys had more food than they probably knew what to do with. It was four or five layers deep and well preserved.

Picking up one of the glass jars, I twisted it around to see an inscription written on a piece of duct tape on the side. All it said was:

LIVER

Lifting one eyebrow, I showed it to the rest of the group, and then placed it back down while picking up another jar. Curiously, I noticed a circular object floating in the jar of liquid. Raising the glass cylinder up the light, I gasped.

“Ahhh shit!” I heard myself say out loud as the bloodshot, and heavily dilated eyeball, stared back at me through the rounded glass.

Nearly dropping the jar, I felt my heart sink into my stomach as I looked down at the rest of the jars. With my eyes now adjusted to the dim light, there were obvious pieces and parts of human remains filling jars in the cabinet as they came fully into focus.

Thinking back to what Aidan had told us about the Stripes, I suddenly understood why there were never any bodies found at the battlegrounds…

Kyle, Jarvis, and Aidan hastily stepped back from the cabinet, spreading out around the rest of the room, as I stood there dumbfounded, still holding the eyeball jar.

“Let’s keep moving. I don’t want to end up in that cupboard,” Kyle whispered under his breath with a twinge of disgust, while looking over toward a set of stairs leading to the second floor.

Shaking my head, I placed the jar back in the cabinet and pushed the door tight with both hands. Swallowing a bit of vomit, I backed up and turned toward the stairs. My senses were on high alert as I reached over and started twisting my wedding ring around my finger. Letting go, I clenched both fists and tried to shake the fear off my body as a dog would shake water off its coat.

We still needed to find truck keys and a radio. Without them, this risk we’d taken would be a total loss. At the moment, our best bet was that they sat at the top of that winding staircase which led to a room filled with nothing but black.

It was time to continue exploring what Aidan had earlier called a tree house of horrors.

Following behind the group, stepping past the altar, I watched as Kyle slowly started his ascent. His weapon was drawn, held out above his head and leading us like a guiding light up the staircase. As he reached the top, we all paused to listen. Still no noise, but the room was devoid of light. Glancing back at me, he nodded as I raised my hammer and followed close behind.

Ducking his head, Kyle disappeared in the darkness. My heart was thumping through my chest as I followed closely behind him. Stumbling around in the dark while my eyes fought to adjust to the shadows, I was able to make out a few bunk beds in the corner with mounds of fur blankets draped across them. Under one of the bunks, I could just barely make out a larger mound of blankets. Leaning in, the hair on the back of my neck shot straight out as I saw one of the blankets move.

“Right there!” I bellowed.

Before anybody could react, I saw the silhouette of a man sit up through the furs and point something directly at me. Lifting my hands to stop what I thought were bullets, I was immediately blinded as a series of flashing lights filled the room. Dropping to my knees, completely disoriented, I heard movement and footsteps as Kyle screamed out.

A knee rammed the side of my head as someone bolted by, knocking me to the ground. Pulling my face into my knees, I tried to shield myself from the struggle.

With bright spots covering my vision, the only one of my five senses that seemed to work was sound. A number of footsteps circled around the room, with at least two men grunting loudly, before I heard a large crash which let out an audible crack that shook the very core of the trees that the fortress was built upon.

Then there was silence.

Realizing I had my eyes closed, I lifted my head and opened them to find the room once again filled with darkness. Still seeing flashes in my vision, I heard Jarvis say, “I’ve got it,” as he yanked down the blanket covering a not-so-square window in the far side of the room.

As I stood up, I could see Kyle standing over a man lying on the ground with a nice-sized gash in his forehead. The man was out, but that didn’t stop Kyle from keeping the wrought iron post pointed toward him with one hand, while wiping his own eyes with the other.

Glancing around the room, I saw that Aidan was now standing at the window, looking out into the forest, pulling deep breaths of air into his lungs. He looked to be hyperventilating as he stretched to push his head into the open air.

“That’s it, boys!” I heard Jarvis let out as he limped over to a large radio sitting on a table across from the window. Stopping at its base, he reached down and lifted his hand. Three sets of keys dangled from his fingers, as he turned back around and faced the radio.

Looking toward the old man on the floor, I shook my head, rubbed both eyes with my hands, then asked,

“What the hellcaused that light pulse?” My finger bounced wildly toward a device that was hanging from the fingers of the guy’s hand.

Kyle, whose eyes were red, reached down, yanking the device out of the clutches of the man on the ground. Lifting it to his face, he said, “It’s an LED weapon light… made to blind and disorient your enemy in the dark.”

“Well, it did the trick. Christ, man, that thing nearly made me vomit.” I heard Aidan say from the window, still taking in deep breaths.

“This has got to be what they used at the tree. Probably had a bunch of them wired up in that box at the end of the pole,” Kyle said, rubbing his eyes one last time.

Smirking ever so slightly at me, he stuck the device in his pocket and looked back down at the man, who had shifted to his side.

“He’s waking up,” Kyle said, crouching down with his weapon raised.

Looking down at the man’s leathery face, I could see a small streak of blood running down his chin from the blow that Kyle had delivered. He had a full mane of wiry gray hair slicked back behind his ears, and a look in his eyes that screamed anger. Like the rest of his friends, who we knew would be back soon, he was covered in mostly animal skins and wore an orange blood-covered strip of cloth around his right arm.

Looking around the room, trying to orient himself, his eyes landed on Jarvis, who was standing over the radio flipping switches and blowing into the radio speaker.

The maddening smile that grew across the old man’s face was enough to run a chill through my body. Staring directly at me, with that wide grin full of tar-stained teeth, he belted out a pain-filled laugh while opening his mouth wide as if trying to move his jaw back into place.

“My comrades will be back any moment. You have to know you’re all gonna die. The Lord Almighty will see to that.”

“Nobody’s gonna die, old man, and just for the record, I’m not sure the Lord is on your side just because you have a statue of Jesus Christ downstairs,” Kyle replied.

Shaking his head, now looking up at Kyle, he smiled. “We’ll see.”

“Just stay calm, and stay down. We’ll be gone before you know it,” Kyle spoke sternly, still waving his weapon in the air.

Shifting his head, the old man looked at Jarvis.

“They won’t respond. Those bastards are done responding to anybody. You should know that by now.” He wheezed, slightly chuckling then gave a heavy cough. “They’ve abandoned us.”

Kyle raised a brow to me. I simply shrugged my shoulders. Neither of us had any clue what this nut bag was talking about.

Not acknowledging him, I heard Jarvis speak into the radio, trying Avalon’s distress channels. “King’s Landing, King’s Landing, this is Iron Eagle… Over.”

Kyle looked down at the man with some disdain and said, “Don’t worry. We’ll get through to our friends.”

“It’s not your friends I’m talking about,” he said, then paused. “You don’t know…?” The old man sneered, laughing from his belly now.

“Ok, I’ll bite. Know what? Who won’t respond? Who’s abandoned us?” Kyle asked with a growing scowl across his face.

“They built a wall. Nobody comes in, nobody goes out.”

“Comes in where? Drop the riddles, old man, or I’ll give you a matching crack across the other side of your head.” Kyle was losing his patience.

I could still hear Jarvis in the background “King’s Landing…” No response.

“They left us here to rot, severed from the rest of the country like a festering wound. There is no help coming. We’re alone now. You’re alone now.”

“Who?” I demanded. Now my patience was starting to dwindle.

“New America, of course.”

Letting it hang there in the air while Kyle and I looked at each other, the old man finally said, “Ahhh, I can see it in your faces. You know what I’m talking about. That’s right. New America—those bastards stopped broadcasting. You know it as well as me.”

Coughing again and wiping his cheek across his shoulder, which added a fresh streak of blood along his orange stripe, he smiled.

“They boxed us out, built a wall using the natural barriers of the Mississippi and Ohio Rivers. Whole Eastern seaboard is the infected area. We’re lost to them. They shoot anything that comes near their borders. People, aircraft, boats. They’re containing the disease.”

“Bullshit!” Kyle belted out.

Radio static crackled in the background.

Looking Kyle directly in the eyes, the old timer replied in a low voice, “You bastards didn’t think the whole world had been overrun, did you?”

Kyle looked out the window with a stunned look on his face.

Continuing, the old man smiled again, “I don’t care. Don’t believe me. You’re alone until my friends come back. They’ll make good company for you. Don’t worry.”

I heard Jarvis set down the radio with a hard, frustrated clank. Looking down at the ground, he stood there with his shoulders drooped as we all listened to the crinkling static ringing from the small round speaker on the table in front of him.

Snapping his gaze from the window, Kyle asked, “How the hell do you know? Seems to me a resourceful bunch of guys with that knowledge would have figured out a way past a wall. It can’t possibly cover the whole country.”

The old man shifted, moving his arm down toward his belt, causing Kyle to shift forward and place the nasty end of his wrought iron spear under the man’s neck, applying just enough pressure to lift his head up.

“Easy big guy. If I was armed, I would have killed you sons of bitches the second you walked up those stairs.” The old man chuckled with his eyes wide, looking up the spear at Kyle.

Kyle let the weapon down enough so the man could lower his head. The old man slowly continued reaching his arm down and rolled his shirt up, with a grunt, exposing a bloody bandage that covered nearly the full side of his body. “I’ve seen it with my own eyes. Took this shrapnel when we tried to make our run past it.”

“That could have come from anywhere,” Kyle retorted.

“Like I said, I don’t care if you believe me. I had to stay behind to nurse this wound, but my friends will be back soon enough. They’ll know just what to do with a big bastard like you.” Making eye contact with Kyle, he licked his lips.

“I really like some gristle in my steak.”

With his brow furrowed, and without hesitation, Kyle reached forward and cracked the old man on the other side of his skull, dropping him out cold against the floor of the fort. He was still breathing, but I could see blood pooling up and dripping down between the cracks.

The air in the room remained silent as we all stood there, listening to the creatures below. Their horrible cries seeped through the floorboards of the fort. We needed to get the hell out of there. The creatures thirsting for our flesh were bad enough. Now we had Old Man Creepy Fuck licking his lips at the same thought.

Snapping us all to attention, Jarvis slammed his hands down on the wooden table in front of him and picked the microphone back up. “King’s Landing… King’s Landing… This is Iron Eagle… Over.”

Chhhhsshsh. Chhhsshsh.

Chapter 25

Throwing caution to the wind is a liberating thing if you’ve been sneaking around… especially when your life is literally on the line.

Pacing around the room, I kept glancing toward the window as the sound of Jarvis’s efforts echoed through the thin walls of the place. Through the static, my mind was spinning at the bomb the old man had just dropped on us. Was he full of shit, just screwing with our fatigued minds, or was there really a New America… and a giant wall keeping us from getting there. It seemed too crazy, too elaborate to possibly be true. Still, some pieces fit.

“Do you hear that?” Aidan whispered from the far side of the room. Transfixed by the look on his face, we collectively fell silent, listening attentively for any inkling of audible sound that lay beyond the hypnotizing hum of the radio static.

“Shit!” Kyle ground out.

My heart dropped as the roar of a distant truck engine emerged. None of us said a word, nearly petrified by the sound. Moving only my eyes to Kyle, he shrugged his shoulders ever so slightly before all of us quickly sprang forward, darting around, grabbing what little we could. All of us except for Jarvis, that is. He continued to stand over the radio, talking to dead air in vain.

I could feel my pulse rising as the engine continued to roar louder over the cries of the dead. We needed to get the hell out of there before the truck got back, or we’d have a hell of a fight on our hands.

In that instant, the static from the radio came to life. “Iron Eagle, Iron Eagle… We read you… Over.”

Jarvis popped up, standing straight as a wooden ruler, with the microphone in his hand. The rest of us stopped in our tracks, huddling around him with some distant sense of relief.

“Yes, we’re here, King’s Landing. Glad to hear you, boys,” Jarvis whispered into the microphone.

My momentary relief was put to a halt as I heard the engine go mute. Dashing over toward the window, I wildly looked through the forest, trying to pinpoint where the truck had parked.

“Where the hell are you?” A woman’s voice screamed out through the speaker. It sounded a lot like Mia.

“We’re near a park, Fire Mountain Park. We’re in some trouble out here. However, there is no time to come get us. You need to go on without our help. We’ve got a truck and will be back to you as soon as possible… Over.”

“Bullshit. We’re hovering around the park now… Over.”

I may have been the only one, but I let out a sigh of relief as I yanked hard on the straps to the backpack lying over my shoulders.

Kyle’s hands landed on the table with a thud. “What the hell are you doing here?”

“I pulled a search party together when we lost contact. Whole place is burnt to shit. We could see the smoke for miles. Looks like you guys have been busy. I repeat, where are you? Over.”

A number of car doors opened and shut, drawing my attention to the bottom of a tree just fifty or so yards away.

“They’re getting close. We gotta wrap this up,” Aidan said with a prepubescent crack in his voice.

Ignoring him, Jarvis continued to speak into the microphone. “You shouldn’t have come after us.” Pausing for a moment to think, and lowering his head, he finally said, “There is a downed airplane on a peak just outside the burnt area of the forest. There should be enough room to land your chopper. If we’re not there in thirty minutes, you need to leave without us.”

“We’re not going anywhere without you!” the woman’s voice shot back.

Kyle snatched the microphone and jerked it to his face. “Mia, this shit storm is too dangerous. You’re more important than—than me. I need you to promise that you’ll leave and get back to Avalon.”

“Don’t puss out on me now, Kyle! We’re here, so now you just need to get to us.”

She always had a subtle way of speaking with the guy.

A rifle shot rang out loudly making my heart thud painfully hard in my chest. I poked my head through the window just in time to see a Z hit the ground as ten men started to climb the first tree.

“Promise me, Mia. Promise you’ll head back if we can’t make it to you!”

A cracked, but determined, “No way… Over,” came through the radio just before it went silent. Jarvis started to flip the switches back to where they’d been before we got there. Kyle was mumbling something about her being uncompromising and bullheaded, as Jarvis motioned for us to move toward the secondary zip-line leading out the other side of the fortress.

We were cutting it too tight, and we all knew it.

Moving down the curved staircase, each step seemed to cry out in pain as our boots hit the planks. Reaching the bottom, my eyes were drawn to the crucified Jesus. A fleeting thought passed through my mind. This place was anything but holy. Continuing around the pews, I noticed Aidan darting to one of the makeshift windows on the far side of the room. His eyes were fixed on the forest floor, and he was grinding his hand around the handle of his weapon.

The rest of us ran past him and out the wooden door that stood directly across from the one by which we had initially entered. It led to the deck that circled the fort. We found ourselves crouched down, breathing heavily as we peered at a second rope bridge leading in the opposite direction from the other zip line that we’d entered the fortress upon.

If you were in a chopper flying above, I imagined that it would look as if the fortress was a poorly shaped circle that had two lines running out both east and west of its center.

“This is it. The trucks are down there,” Jarvis said in between a few heavy pants while lifting a hand in the direction of the zip-line we were facing.

“You’re right. We’ll have to slip quietly over the bridge without them putting eyes on us, but it doesn’t look like they’ll have a solid line of sight from their position,” Kyle chimed in.

Glancing to the edge of this second set of zip lines that served as the Stripes alternate route, and our current path of escape, I realized Kyle was right. At the very least, the fortress itself mostly stood between the two zips, meaning they couldn’t see us from their position as long as we managed to keep our heads down, and we wouldn’t be able to see the Stripes from ours without lifting them up.

Hopping up and down across the rope bridge, I nearly lost my balance before reaching the far side where the zip-line lay. Glancing down, I could see the creatures reaching up toward us, craving for one tiny slip up.

As I pulled the harness through my legs, I cautiously leaned up to get a view around the fortress and through the dense forest leaves in the direction of the other line. I was just barely able to make out that the men, our mirror image on the other side, were doing the exact same thing at the other zip-line.

We waited in silence, ducking down to see if they had noticed us. There were no noticeable movements to indicate they knew we were here. Minutes ticked by like seconds as one-by-one, each of the ten men ascended the rope ladder to the top of the platform preparing to slide across.

Staying low, I once again shifted to where I could see them better and squinted as I watched one of the men dump over the wooden box that the harnesses were sitting in. They seemed to realize a few were missing.

As Jarvis pinched his finger between his harness and the zip-line to muffle the metal on metal click, I found myself once again glancing back through the trees toward the men. A few distant words were just barely audible before one of the Stripes looked up toward the fort. Raising his gun, he lifted the sight to his face to get a better look, and began meticulously pivoting from one foot to the other as his weapon peeked into each window of the structure.

Out of the corner of my eye, I could see Kyle shaking his head back and forth.

“Where the hell is Aidan?” he whispered.

Looking around, I realized he was nowhere in sight.

“I lost track of him at the window.” My voice was no louder than his was as I pulled my own harness tight.

“Damn it! That was nearly ten minutes ago. I’ll go back after him,” Kyle said.

Just as he started to pull his harness off and step toward the rope bridge, Aidan pushed the door open a mere crack, exposing no more than a shadow of his face. Nodding, he stepped out onto the bridge and ran to our platform.

“What were you doing?” Kyle barked.

“Keeping an eye out.”

Kyle shot him a scowl and tossed him a harness. I could tell he didn’t trust the answer.

“The zip-line’s too loud. They’re gonna hear us,” Aidan said with a look of panic swelling across his face.

They wouldn’t have a clear shot at us, having to get around the fortress before they could see our zip-line. However, we knew it would just take one Stripe to get across… and if they didn’t know where we were yet, they sure as shit were about to.

Before sliding into his harness, Aidan glanced to his wrist at a digital watch, and then looked up to the sky. Meanwhile, Jarvis was simply standing, hooked up to the zip, waiting.

“What are you waiting for?” Kyle questioned.

“If we zip at the same time that the Stripes do, there’s a good chance they won’t hear us.”

Nodding our heads, we stood by, keenly focused on the starting note of that singing metal… until finally it rang out into the forest.

Taking a noticeable gulp, Jarvis lifted his legs as Kyle gave him a nudge, shooting him down and causing that same orchestra of metal-on-metal. Peering up, I could see that the Stripes didn’t seem to hear him. Both zips were nearly the same length, so they both ended at roughly the same time. I watched from afar as Jarvis quickly unhooked and grabbed the tree, trying to move around to conceal himself behind the bark.

Just before stepping up to the line, I noticed Aidan glancing at his watch again. Kyle did too.

“What are you timing?” Kyle spoke through his teeth.

Taking a deep breath, Aidan looked at us with pain-filled eyes.

“You need to know what’s about to happen.” He paused and let the breath out of his lungs. “I just used the radio to signal to Gordon that I’m here. Using the downed plane crash site as a marker, and a quick triangulation of the signal from the radio, they are going to find us, and there is a heavily armed chopper en route to this location right now. It should be here in less than five minutes.”

Kyle’s face looked like it was going to burst. “I knew it, you little shit!”

Holding his ground, Aiden lifted both hands up and replied, “Before you go ape on me, you need to know two things. One, Gordon doesn’t realize you’re here. For all he knows, you died back in the fire. They think I was taken captive by the Stripes and escaped. Two, I’m not going to tell him you’re here.”

Taking a step back, Kyle’s face turned to a lighter shade of red. Neither of us said a word. The only thing audible over the moans from the monsters below was the distant sound of the zip-line as another Stripe started down toward the base.

Looking back toward the Stripes for only a moment, Aidan met our gaze and spoke with what I can only describe as unremitting pain. “I don’t know who’s right and who’s wrong in this world, but I’ve been with Gordon and the people there for seven months. I have friends, and there are many great survivors there. We’ll see how this battle shakes out. Until then, I wish you luck as you try to get back to your chopper. You’re gonna need it.”

It was the most mature thing I’d ever heard a seventeen-year-old say.

“Now go! Gordon wants these guys almost as bad as he wants Avalon. This place is about to go all fire and brimstone if you know what I’m saying. In the meantime, I’m staying behind to signal them from the tower up there. For all our sakes, I hope we never see each other again.”

Before we could respond, he turned and darted back to the fortress. Standing there, watching his new Nike Pegasus shoes bounce up and down across the rope bridge, the realization that there was a warship on its way hit me.

“There’s no time, Kyle. We can’t wait for the parallel zip-lines. We’ve gotta get the hell out of these trees now!” I said, almost a bit too loud.

Throwing caution to the wind is a liberating thing if you’ve been sneaking around… especially when your life is literally on the line.

Chapter 26

Vindictive bastards seemed to be holding a grudge.

Snapping onto the zip, I lifted my legs and took off down the narrow line. It would only be a minute or two before they realized where we were, and I hoped like hell I’d be across to the other side before they did. Manic screaming from across the bridge shattered the silence as one of the Stripes pointed toward me.

Once again, Lady Luck seemed to give me a giant Karate Kid style Flamingo Kick to the ball sack.

Tree limbs and branches exploded to my left as bullets passed through their frail bark. Looking back over my shoulder, I saw one of the Stripes had made it around the building and was shooting a rifle in my direction. All I saw was muzzle flash as I tried to curl up my body to make it as small as possible.

The weapon shook up and down with each shot. I wasn’t close enough to see his face well, but in between each bullet, I could hear his screams of fury. We’d invaded their lair, and they had no interest in “talking” this out.

The Stripe was so singularly focused on leveling his sight on my moving body that he didn’t see Kyle coming up from beside him. With one fell swoop, Kyle knocked into him, sending him over the edge as a barrage of wooden splinters erupted from the railing. The Stripe’s scream went shrill just before he hit the ground.

Still alive, he tried to crawl away from the horde, but it was on him in a matter of seconds. All that waiting. Someone had finally slipped up. Dinner time.

Gordon’s chopper came into hearing range just as I landed with my feet on the platform that Jarvis was standing on. Watching Kyle snap in behind us and lift his legs, I looked through the woods to see a few of the Stripes rushing down the ladder back to the trucks. Each of them cocked their heads and their guns, up to the sky in disbelief.

Something caught my attention from the top of the fortress, a slight movement that was out of place. I realized it was Aidan as he started to climb the ladder to the lookout tower. One foot after another, he was heading up, no doubt to try to signal his exact location to the chopper.

With the tree canopy beginning to tremble, the men at the bottom of the trees started to duck down, shifting their weapons up to where they thought the noise was coming from.

“Over there!” I heard from the fortress. Two more of the Stripes had made it around the bend and were raising their guns toward Kyle.

I couldn’t do anything about it… he was a sliding duck, and they were about to pull the trigger. I screamed, “Come on!” in vain. Waving my arms, and nearly jumping up and down, I knew this was bad. The terrified look in Kyle’s eyes told me he knew it too.

Suddenly, the sky erupted with bullet fire. I watched trees all around splintering, their branches falling to the ground. However, to my surprise Kyle remained unharmed. Looking past him, I watched as the two Stripes at the fort were literally blown to pieces by some sort of giant caliber gun. Dropping from the fort, body parts were strewn across the forest floor.

It was raining gore on the Zs heads, and they were eating it up.

The chopper was above us, decimating the fortress. The wall the Stripes were standing near had a hole blown through it, and I could hear the small arms fire from the rest of the Stripes, across the way, shooting up toward the chopper.

Kyle slammed into me just as I heard the large caliber weapon open up again. Pulling Kyle forward to help steady him, I looked over his shoulder to see the trees around where the other zip-line once stood being blown to pieces.

“I think Gordon’s men just saved your ass,” I said to Kyle as he, Jarvis, and I slid down the rope ladder.

“Yeah, holy shit! If they only knew,” he replied as his feet hit the ground.

The Zs that once had surrounded this exit had been pulled away toward the fight. Darting to the parked vehicles, the three of us picked the largest, and tugged on the tarp covering its massive body. Revealing a black armor-covered truck with an orange stripe painted down the side, I quickly noticed that the glass windshield had been replaced by a series of metal bars.

Jarvis tossed the three sets of keys to me as he jumped into the back. Sliding into the driver’s side door, I tried the first set. No fit. Throwing them out the window, I wiped the sweat from my brow and lifted the second set to the ignition.

Looking in the rear view mirror, I watched entire walls start to fall off of the fortress, landing on the ground, crushing a number of the Zs stumbling around below.

The key slid into the ignition. Lifting my elbow, I turned the key forward, bringing life roaring out of its metal parts. Letting out the deep breath, I realized I hadn’t inhaled since trying to start the truck.

“Hit it!” Kyle yelled out from the front passenger seat.

Shifting the truck into drive, I turned the wheel and slammed on the gas. Dirt and leaves shot up behind us as we tore off down a partially cleared path that the Stripes had created.

The firefight was still raging to the right of the truck. In the distance, I watched the large caliber gun tear right through two of the Stripes who were trying to hide behind a tree. It split the tree in half, which fell as both men dropped to the ground. Still hovering above, the chopper was spinning around the fortress, the trees waving wildly all around us. Just enough of a distraction for us to speed off unnoticed… at least so we thought.

We couldn’t hear the engine start over the sound of the chopper up above, but Kyle saw them peel out and cried, “They’re in their truck.”

To my right, I saw the Stripes immediately. They were trying to head us off. Vindictive bastards seemed to be holding a grudge.

Dodging trees, pushing the truck to its limits, the very real sound of bullets clanging along the armored exterior of the vehicle kept my foot to the pedal. Kyle was going on about not having anything to fire back at them with while ducking down into his seat. I glanced into the rearview mirror only to see the Stripes’vehicle steady out right behind us.

There only appeared to be two of them, the driver and another who was hanging out the passenger side with some sort semi-automatic rifle. Luckily, the chopper wasn’t in pursuit, clearly staying back to destroy the Stripes’ fortress. They didn’t know we were there, and in the end, we had Aidan to thank for that.

“Watch out!” Kyle yelled, wide-eyed, looking out the metal-gated windshield. There was a creature standing directly in our path. With no time to react, my only thought was to go faster. Hitting the gas, I watched as that same Z from the parking lot, the one with the backpack and clanging metal pots and pans, flipped up and over the hood.

In what seemed like slow motion, it practically disintegrated from the force. One of the pots clanged across the metal bars, that replaced the windshield, followed by a flood of black bile that poured into our faces. Losing control momentarily, I desperately pulled my sleeve up to wipe the gunk from my eyes just as the truck slammed through a rotten stump, sending splinters up all around us.

“Take a right, John!” Jarvis pointed to what looked like a fork in the path. “That’ll take us back to the peak!”

As I twisted the wheel, the rear of the truck slid sideways in the dirt before straightening out. Glancing back in my rearview mirror, I saw the truck behind us nearly tipping over as they tried to follow the tight turn. The Stripe hanging out the passenger side door flung around from the force like an old doll, before pulling himself back into the truck.

“Up ahead!” Kyle said, pointing to the top of the hill.

“We’re not going to be able to drive up that, boys,” Jarvis added on.

He was right. The truck wouldn’t make it to the top. We’d have to jump out and make a short climb, leaving us completely exposed.

“They’re not firing at us,” Kyle said, looking back at the Stripes’truck. “Maybe they’re out of ammo.”

Ducking down as quickly as he’d said it, he neatly avoided another series of bullets as they rained across the armor siding.

“Up there!” Jarvis pointed.

Looking up to the top of the peak, we could see the beautiful twirling blades from the chopper. We were close now, just one final test.

I slammed on the brakes, and the truck slid sideways to a stop at the base of the hill. All three of us were out and heading up before the thing came to a full stop. Over the roar of the engine behind us, I heard the rifle firing.

Dirt and small fragments of rock spit up all around as bullets tore into the hillside. Driving over the rough terrain kept the bastard’s gun off target, but the second they stopped, I knew he’d have nothing but a straight shot.

Digging my hammer into the ground, I pulled forward with sweat dripping from my face. Looking over my shoulder, I saw the truck slamming on its brakes. The edge of the hill was just yards away. The three of us pushed with everything we had left to get to the top. It wouldn’t be enough! They were stopped and getting out of the truck.

I could practically feel the sight from the gun leveling off on my back as I frantically climbed, trying to race to the chopper. It was only a matter of time.

Cha cha cha chang rang out from above us. Looking up, nearly breathless, I saw Mia perched like a goddess at the top of the hill. With the sun shining around her entire body, she glowed as her machine gun rocked up and down in what seemed like slow motion.

Not taking the time to look back, I kept moving.

Another burst of fire echoed through the hills. Bullet casings were raining from above, rolling down the hill all around us. Taking one step forward, my foot slid backwards across one of the casings, causing me to slide back a number of feet. In that moment, a bullet hit the stone just above my head. Crying out in pain, I felt a small fragment of rock slice open the flesh across my cheek.

“Shit!” I yelled as another barrage of gunfire rang out above. An inch higher and the stone would have taken out my eye.

“Come on! Keep moving! You’re not dying on this hill!” Mia’s voice rang out before she pulled the trigger once more.

Gripping a root dangling over the edge, I pulled myself up and across the top, rolling sideways to escape the Stripes’ line of sight. I nearly somersaulted into Kyle and Jarvis, who were both on all fours panting like beaten dogs. We stayed crouched and started to slide backwards toward the chopper. Mia was still filling the air with lead as she stepped back, then turned to meet us, pulling on Kyle’s arm to help lift him up.

The side door to the smaller green military chopper was open, allowing the four of us to dive in just as the pilot, who I didn’t recognize at first, yanked on the yoke. With my face hanging slightly over the edge, the wind erupted all around as I pulled the sliding door shut. A few bullets managed to slam into the bottom of the chopper, but we were out of reach in a matter of moments.

Looking out the window, I watched the destroyed airplane and our campfire shrink in size. That little spot had saved our asses. Maybe someone out there was making up for all the poor souls who died before we ever showed up.

Chapter 27

I may be a bastard. But I’m not the kind of bastard that would kill a kid.

“I’ll be back by sunset,” Mia said with a hint of sarcasm before pulling Kyle up next to her. Not saying anything, he turned, looking her up and down as if to make sure she was real.

“You forgot to mention you’d be burning down Kentucky on the way back,” she continued with a smile, as a shiny bead of water rolled down around her nose and onto her lips.

The only time I’d ever seen even a hint of a tear hit Kyle’s face was on that chopper as he pulled Mia in close and embraced her tightly. With her head dug deep into his shoulder as he rested his chin on her brow, they both sat there, with their eyes closed, holding one another as if they were on borrowed time.

Twisting my wedding ring, I looked away and dropped my head down to my chest as my thoughts fell to being reunited with Jenn seven months earlier. Before she passed away giving birth to Tyler.

Pain always seems to follow the good moments.

Twisting around to the front of the chopper, I peered into the cockpit. To my surprise, I found that an old friend was busy keeping us in the air and pointed toward Avalon.

Reaching over to grab a headset hanging on a metal hook near my shoulder, I slid it over my ears and blew twice into the microphone to make sure it was connected.

“I should have known you’d be part of this suicide mission.”

Turning around, the pilot smiled and simply replied, “Just like old times, huh, John?”

“Yeah, I guess so, buddy. Thanks for coming after us. We probably owe our lives to you,” I replied, reaching over and patting him on the shoulder.

“Not me. You have Mia to thank for that. She wouldn’t stop harassing me until we were in the air.”

He was a former resident of Fort Gordon, the Augusta Army base we’d found shelter at before heading back to Avalon. His name was Cooper, and we had been through a hell of a time together trying to get from Augusta to Avalon in those first weeks of the apocalypse. The bond forged during that trip left me realizing that I shouldn’t have been surprised that Mia was able to recruit him to come out after us.

“How long until we’re back?” I asked.

“Shouldn’t be more than a few hours. You should get some rest. The whole of Avalon is racing around preparing for the attack.”

He went on to explain that less than a mile from the front gate of Avalon’s outside wall, there was a small army amassing. Filled with trucks, men, and a number of choppers that had airlifted in some sort of huge wooden boxes, the war zone was quickly getting ready to heat up.

“Wooden boxes?” I questioned.

“I haven’t seen it myself, but the radio operator is telling me that there are a number of them. They’re covered up by tarps, so nobody can see them well enough to know what they are… or what they’re for.

I gulped hard, feeling my Adam’s apple move up and down, then thanked Cooper once again and sat back down in the cabin. He was right. We wouldn’t have any time to prep, and I only hoped that Richard, who was still running things back at Avalon, was able to pull all the right moving pieces together. Between the Dead Shed filled with Zs, Kyle’s all-or-nothing last resort—Project BOHICA—and a few other tricks up our sleeves, we’d be able to put up a fight. However, after seeing that hovering gunship tear down the Stripes’ tree fortress, I knew in my heart of hearts that the odds of us pulling a win out of this one were very thin.

Noticing that Mia was looking out the window, I waved at her and pointed to my headset. After she slipped one over her head, I asked, “How are Tyler and Deanna with everything happening?”

“Deanna is her old self, trying to get more information from people than she really needs. Old busybody.”

“And Tyler?”

Her face grew serious, dropping my heart into my stomach. My palms went clammy as an icy shiver went up my spine.

“We need to get back with the meds, John. He’s doing OK, but as of about thirty minutes ago, we got word that he’s starting to have a little trouble breathing.”

Seeing the look on my face, she continued with a forced smile. “Don’t worry, John. Doc says that if we get back soon, he should be just fine.”

Cracking a half-smile, I gripped the backpack straps and pulled them tight.

“Your boy misses you, John. When he heard your voice over the radio speakers yesterday, he sat up and started to crawl toward the radio table,” she said, while imitating a crawl by using her arms.

The little bugger knew my voice and had started to crawl. I shook my head, knowing that missing the first time he crawled was a small price to pay for trying to keep him safe; however, deep down, it still stung.

Looking over at Kyle, who now also had a headset on, and then back toward me, Mia’s eyes narrowed as she let a sly smile grow across her face.

“One other thing. That woman whose child you saved from the cafeteria… Claire? She’s been helping Deanna out with Tyler. Seems like you’ve made quite an impression on that one.”

That shit-eating grin, which I knew all too well, grew across Kyle’s face, but he refrained from saying anything. Thinking back to the drug-induced dream I’d had the day before, I began to twist my wedding ring around my swollen finger.

Trying to be as nonchalant as possible, I looked up from my hand with a slight shrug and said, “I’m sure she’s just returning the favor for saving little Olivia.”

“Yeah, I’m sure that’s what it is,” Kyle chimed in with a bit of a laugh.

Rolling my eyes, I looked the window and thought about little Olivia and all the other people that were back at Avalon. Sure, it was an underground bunker that sometimes felt like a catacomb, but it was also our home, and the people living there were good. We’d built something at Avalon that needed to be preserved amongst the nightmare that lived outside its walls.

We’d fought so hard to do what was right in a world of shit, a world where everything seemed wrong. Thinking back over the last twenty-something hours, I realized that I’d done whatever it took to get back to them. For the first time, I’d taken a man’s life. Not just a Z. Hell, killing Zs was easy. Killing a living person was something that I’d managed to avoid. Something that I had always hoped I wouldn’t have to do, but feared I may need to.

The look on the Hulk’s face as he took his last breath flashed before my eyes. Then I thought of Rodgers and the terror in his eyes as I pulled the trigger to cripple him in that underwater grave. I’d known what I was doing. I was killing people so that I’d be able to keep going. So I’d be able to save my son.

Running a hand over the backpack filled with the meds, I wasn’t sure what, if anything, made me better or different from anybody else out there who was willing to do murder. At some point, in order to survive, we’d all lost a little humanity, and mine was clearly gone. Was I really doing what was right in a world of shit? I’m not sure I have the answer to that. However, I can only hope that what I’ve done to keep going… to keep my friends and family safe will be worth the trade for my soul.

Feeling my eyelids weighing down as if they’d been carrying boulders, I finally slipped off to sleep. Images of death filled my mind, but it had been a while since they really felt like nightmares. Now they were just dreams. The same ones I had every time I closed my eyes.

Some time later, I was shaken awake as the rotor of the helicopter hit some turbulence while we shifted to the side, making a wide turn. Sitting up, I wiped the sleep from my eyes and leaned forward to brace my arm against the cold metal side of the vehicle.

In the distance, I could see the familiar walls in the open field that surrounded Avalon. Sitting up straight, realizing we were so close, I had a terrible feeling in the pit of my stomach as I thought about what I’d find there.

“Why are we circling around?” I asked into the mic on the headset.

“Gordon’s army is sitting out front. Looks like they started pulling into the field. We need to fly around them. Don’t want to get shot at, or worse,” Cooper replied while keeping his eyes fixed on the ground below.

Nodding my head, I shifted my body to look out the window as we continued to make a wide half-circle around the field. From the air, I could see multiple grounded helicopters, cars, and men running around and setting up all their equipment.

“It’s a rear operating base,” Kyle said.

I noticed both he and Mia had their faces plastered to the windows as well. Kyle appeared to be counting, trying to get a lock on how many men we’d be up against.

Nobody took as much as a shot at the chopper. Closing my eyes, I tried to calm my nerves as I realized I was more frightened at the fact that they let us pass unscathed. We were simply flying into Gordon’s web, and he was happy to let us do it.

Cooper lowered the chopper onto a landing pad that sat atop the Greenbriar Hotel, or what was left of it. A few months back a group of marauders had tried to enter our Avalon bunker through the hotel, which looked and felt like the size of the White House. After unsuccessfully attempting to break through the blast door, they decided they’d set the former immaculate hotel on fire. With nothing and no one to put it out, nearly half of the structure burned to the ground before a lucky rainstorm passed overhead.

Fortunately, the landing pad on the less burnt side of the building was still mostly structurally sound, and we knew we couldn’t exactly land out in the field at the moment.

Feeling the skids touch down, I was out the side door before Cooper had taken his hand off the yoke. Shooting my gaze out at the field, I felt like I ran into a wall as I realized what we were up against. A field of men all pointing at us as they moved back and forth, preparing for the attack. For some reason, it looked a hell of a lot more real from that rooftop than it did flying above.

With the rest of the group in tow, I bolted down a set of charred black stairs until we hit the ground floor and made our way through a series of hallways, some of which still had elegant paintings that had only been singed in the fire—a subtle reminder of how prestigious the Greenbriar Hotel had been long ago.

With a bottle of the lifesaving medicine in hand, we reached what seemed like a large yellow wall with green horizontal stripes running down the side, circa 1970s. Kyle ran over to a small hidden seam and pulled the entire wall back to reveal a large rectangular iron door that led into our underground base. This back door had been used by the original builders of the Greenbriar to gain entrance to the trade show floor. When opened, it looked like a natural hall that led into a giant room where the Greenbriar staff would host enormous events. The unsuspecting guests would be inside the underground base and wouldn’t even know it. When closed, it created a seal that was as hard to get through as the rest of the cylindrical entrances to the bunker.

We’d done battle in that trade show room, as it was the very same place that Gordon’s Arena had been set up in. Though it had since been dismantled, I still got the chills every time I stepped into the place. So many people had died there in that first week.

Maybe they were the lucky ones.

Standing back and looking up, Kyle waved his hands at a camera pointed directly down at him. “Hello,” he mouthed silently.

A few moments later, a circular handle on the left-hand side of the door started to twist, popping open the seal as the door cracked, providing us safe passage into our home.

Stepping into the room, I lifted my head to find Tyler’s baby blue eyes staring at his father. I don’t know how else to explain how I felt, other than to say that I was simply filled with joy… a feeling that I hadn’t had in far too long. The joy of getting home. The joy of being reunited with my son. The joy that he was all right. I felt no pain, no worry. Just Tyler and I there reunited. It was a moment that is hard to explain, but one that will be left in my mind as a bright spot until I’m gone from this earth.

As Deanna slid him into my arms, I thanked her for watching after him, and pulled him to my chest before raising him above my head “Lion King” style. He started to giggle as I wiggled my fingers under his armpits. I brought him back down and kissed him on the thin, light blond hair covering his head.

With the nebulizer in hand, Deanna was busy sliding the canister of medicine into the small machine when I heard a small girl’s voice cry out.

“John!” I looked down to see Olivia push past Deanna and run up to grab my leg, I nearly lost my balance as she exclaimed, “I’m so happy you’re back!”

Reaching one arm down, I patted her on her back, simply saying, “Me too, Olivia. Me too.”

Beyond Deanna and Richards, who had already pulled Jarvis to the side, I saw those beautiful blue eyes watching us through the crowd. When she saw I’d noticed her, she stepped forward slowly with both hands clutched in front of her body.

“Olivia can’t stop talking about you,” she said with a slight grin, before looking to the ground.

Fumbling to find words, I finally replied, “I heard the two of you have been helping Deanna out with this little monster.” I twisted my finger under Tyler’s armpit again, eliciting a sweet giggle that brought Claire’s head up from the floor, now with a full smile.

“Well, it’s the least I could do after you saved my little girl’s life. Besides, I love kids, and that one’s a sweetheart.” She stepped closer to rub Tyler’s back.

“Well, thank you. It truly means the world to me,” I said in a near whisper, while gazing down at my son.

Breaking the moment, Richards called over to me.

“John, I have something you gotta see. Think you can stop by the bunkroom?”

“What is it?”

“Better that you see, John. It’ll just take a minute.”

Looking over to Kyle and Jarvis, they both shrugged their shoulders in near unison.

Nodding toward Richards, I turned and thanked Deanna and Claire. I didn’t want to give Tyler up. Every bit of fatherly instinct told me to keep him within my sight. I’d been away too long, and I felt a physical pain at the thought of handing him over to anybody in that moment.

In the end, I decided the best way for me to protect my son was to make sure none of the monsters outside our gate would ever get in to hurt him. Giving him an extra kiss on the cheek, I held Tyler as close as I could, feeling his soft skin against my own.

Deanna was kind enough to give me my moment, but she eventually waved slightly, signaling that it was time to go. With a deep breath, I gave him up. She took him with a gentle bounce, and then told him that she had his medicine for him. After asking Olivia to make sure to take care of Tyler for me, and watching her eyes glow at the idea of helping out, Kyle and I followed Richards into the hall.

Minutes later, we entered the bunkroom, which was lined with bunk beds and small closets. It’s where most people slept at Avalon, and I remember thinking that I was damn lucky not to be stuck in there.

As I followed Richards down a line of bunks, I didn’t like the strange look on his face. Like he wanted to smile, but was too afraid to. I couldn’t quite read it.

“You know whose bunk this is?” he asked as we stopped.

Looking to the neatly folded, military-style covers, with a three-inch fold at the top, I did. I knew exactly whose bunk it was.

“It’s Rodgers’s bunk,” I replied, just barely under my breath.

“You’re right.” He paused for a moment. “Do me a favor, and look in that bag under the bed. We discovered it just minutes before you arrived.”

Cocking my head, I shot him a look that asked, “Really” as he nodded his head yes.

“It’s right under there. The green duffle bag.”

Kneeling down on all fours, I reached down to grab the cotton handle of the worn, unassuming bag, and slid it out from underneath the darkness of the bed.

“Go ahead, open it,” Kyle prompted.

Reaching my right hand down, I started sliding the zipper as Richards explained that a little boy had discovered it while they were prepping the room for the battle. At first, his mother had started to scold him, telling him to stop touching everything, as little boys have a tendency to do.

“That’s when I saw what it was,” Richards finished, as I pulled the bag open.

With my eyes going wide, I couldn’t believe what I was looking at. It was all there. Every last bit of the medicine from the med center. Every last canister of the meds Tyler needed. They didn’t go up in flames.

“Do you see the note?” Richards asked, as I sat there on my knees speechless.

Shaking my head no, I dug my hand into the bag and swished it around, before finding a neatly sealed envelope with the name “John” written in black pen across the outside.

Richards shrugged. “I didn’t feel right opening it.”

Sliding my finger through the paper edge, I ripped the top open and pulled a yellow piece of folded paper out. Cautiously unfolding it, I could see one short but concise note.

I may be a bastard, but I’m not the kind of bastard that would kill a kid.–Rodgers

Handing the note up to Kyle, I waited for him to read it.

“I don’t know what to think,” I finally said as his eyes lifted from the page.

“I guess we think that he’s not a total dick,” Kyle replied, with a scowl growing across his face as he realized that he spoke about Rodgers as if he was still alive.

Pausing, my mind shot to the look of horror in Rodgers’ eyes as I pulled the trigger.

Speaking more to myself, I said, “Yeah, I guess he wasn’t…”

I’ll never really know what was going through his mind, the mind of a man who teetered on the edge of sanity. A man who just might have had a last-minute sense of regret before he led us to what should have been certain torture, death… or worse. In the end, there must have been some tiny bit of humanity left in that scrambled brain. Too bad, dead men aren’t able to speak beyond a grumbled moan.

Sometimes when I’m alone, captured in my own memories, I think back to that green duffle bag and Rodgers’s note. I always ponder the same question: Why?

After a short silence that nearly filled the entire bunkroom, Kyle finally pushed his shoulders out and said, “Let’s get topside, men. We have a war to win.”

He was right. It was time to prepare for battle.

Chapter 28

Only children believe that what they do in battle is who they are as men.

I was standing in a filthy mud, the kind that would never completely come out of my fresh body armor. Well, fresh to me anyway. It had a cracked bullet hole in the right chest plate, no doubt from the last guy who had worn it. I could only hope that I’d have more luck than he did.

The sky had erupted with a pounding rainstorm before we had returned, making the Yard look and feel like the sludge one would find in a pigsty, as everybody frantically darted back and forth within the protection of the outside walls. Digging the tip of my boot into the filth, I looked up, listening intently to the wind blowing. Dark clouds slowly crept by, seemingly interested in being witness to the battle brewing below.

Moving my right hand across my belt to make sure the hammer was firmly in place, I momentarily thought about Tyler, buried deep underground with the rest of the inhabitants who were unable to fight. I knew that he would be safe with Deanna and Claire, who were hunkered down in my living quarters. With a thick steel blast door, it would be the best place for them to wait this out.

Watching the people assisting each other around the Yard reminded of what we were doing here; more importantly, why we were ready to fight. Protecting a way of life that the rest of the world had long since forgotten. It would be what was worth fighting for… ultimately worth killing for.

On that day, I knew I’d have to honor that promise I’d made to my wife. It was the promise to keep my son safe in a world of shit, and I knew I’d be doing it with blood. Shaking the cold sweat from my body, I shuddered at the thought of what that really meant.

Many of us wouldn’t make it, that much was clear. Mostly made up of the lucky, not the brave, our small group of sixty-three men and women who were able to fight, weren’t ready for the firestorm that was about to hit. Of course, we had planned for an attack: constant drilling, constant preparation. However, nothing could have prepared us for what was coming. The odds were too well stacked against us.

We knew this wasn’t simply our second chance to keep Gordon from running Avalon. It would be our last. There wasn’t a person standing at Jarvis’s side who didn’t understand that. In a boxing match, the most dangerous type of person is the one who is backed into the corner ropes. Seemingly, at their weakest, that person knows they have nothing to lose. They are willing to try anything, willing to do whatever it takes to get out of that spot.

Avalon was our corner.

With mud sloshing up over his feet as he walked up next to me, Kyle kicked his boot into the air.

“They could have picked a better day to pull this shit, huh? I’ve got mud all over my new boots.”

Knowing that he was trying to crack a joke to calm me down, I flashed a pathetic smile and replied, “Yeah, very inconsiderate of them.”

Kyle had been here before. He’d faced off against enemy forces while in the Army, and he’d lived to see another day. I hadn’t ever been in a battle the size of this, and couldn’t stop my knees from shaking.

Looking along the top of the concrete walls, Kyle appeared to be inspecting the men stationed at the recently built crenellations lining the entire perimeter. There was a look in his face that told me he seemed pleased with the fact that he had pushed all of us to finish them, despite the blazing summer heat a few months back.

At the time, he had explained that crenellations were what gave archers protection while they defended their medieval castles. Ours stood three feet high, were placed every couple of feet, and at the very least would give our gunmen something to hide behind when the bullets started flying. Today, we’d need it more than ever.

“See you shaved,” Kyle said, glancing at me from the corner of his eye. “Not trying to impress anybody special, are you?”

Reaching up to my smooth chin, I laughed a bit but didn’t answer. The truth of the matter was that I was prepared to die that day, and I was going to do it with some dignity. There was a different person looking back at me in the mirror when I’d first returned to my chambers to change into the new armor. He looked more broken, more beaten down than I’d remembered. I shaved some of that pain away, and it helped. However, I still couldn’t manage to shake all of the horrors from the past twenty-four hours out of my mind.

I never will.

Turning toward my friend, I hesitated, and then said, “I can’t get the vision of Rodgers’s face out of my head. I killed him… a person, not a Z. Maybe he was right. Maybe he knew that if we were ever really pushed, we’d fall just as far as the rest of the world.”

Kyle turned to me, his face serious, and put his hand on my shoulder. “Only children believe that what they do in battle is who they are as men.”

Letting that hang there in the air, he looked up at the clouds then back down to meet my face. “Just remember, John, the true measure of a man is not what they take from this world, but what they give it.”

As I stood there, I realized that this might have been the most profound thing he’d ever said to me. I reached out and shook his hand. “It’s been an honor to call you my friend.”

Once again, meeting my eyes, he squeezed firmly and replied, “Likewise, John. Likewise.”

Pausing for a moment, looking over his shoulder at all the people getting ready for battle, he cracked a smile. “Let’s not act like we’re dead yet, buddy. We’ve all got something to live for. Besides, big bad ol’ Gordon out there has forgotten the golden rule. The house always wins.”

My attention was pulled to a man dressed in the same black body armor as Kyle and me. It was Jarvis, limping ever so slightly. He didn’t let his leg slow him down as he barked out directions and orders. Positioning people around the Yard, he had everybody at work on defenses, offenses. Hell, he even had people filling up our vehicles with our small stockpile of fuel in case we needed to escape.

Jarvis had us putting all the right pieces on the board in place, and we were doing it without question. The whole of Avalon believed in the man. We’d follow him to the grave if we had to.

He was standing at the top of the concrete wall overlooking the field when his eyes were averted to something in the distance. We weren’t terribly close to him, but I could see that he was squinting, like he was trying to figure out what the hell the opposing force was putting together.

From the chopper in the sky, Kyle had estimated that there were at least a hundred men on their side, which wasn’t the part that scared the hell out of me. For some reason, the wooden boxes seemed like the wild card that Gordon was carefully hiding up his sleeve.

We had heard a few gunshots while the force held the tree line. However, there’d been nothing for quite a while, and they’d been standing out there for over two hours, just waiting.

Kyle called up to Jarvis, “What are they doing with the Zs?”

Keeping his eye on the field, Jarvis shouted back “Not sure, boys. It’s quite odd. They’re simply boxing them up in what appears to be wooden cages. They’re collecting them.”

Kyle looked over at me. “That doesn’t sound good… at all.”

He glanced around the Yard, as if to make sure we were all set. Then his eyes fell on the setting sun, mostly hidden behind the ominous clouds still creeping by.

“It’s getting dark. Not too long before it’s pitch black.”

Kyle went on to explain that Gordon’s men were probably holding at the tree line because it was out of firing range from most anything, aside from long distance sniper rifles. Glancing at his watch, and then surveying our Yard, he clenched his fist and said, “It’s nearly time.”

8:57—Gordon’s self-prescribed poetic justice was almost upon us. That exact hour and minute that Jarvis had seized Avalon from Gordon all those months ago. It was no mistake that Gordon’s army would be cloaked in darkness when the second hand hit twelve on that final minute. Easier to move in on us. Easier to get close to the wall without detection.

Crackling in the distance, the squelch from a loudspeaker sliced through the tension in the air.

“Avalonians. I said, Avalonians!” The words banged through the air, bouncing around within our walls like a nightmarish pinball, causing the whole lot of us to transform instantly into statue images of ourselves.

Shaking my head, I darted to the wall, sticking my face to a narrow crack, which allowed me to see the field. I knew who it was. Gordon, the bastard, had pulled up into the field in our bright yellow Hummer. He was taunting us with a reminder that he’d already taken us once.

With the Hummer turned at an angle and the door open, he stood cautiously hidden from anybody willing to try to take a shot in his direction. Standing just outside of the Hummer on the foot rail, all I could see of him was a funnel-like loudspeaker and the tip of that damn red beret bouncing ever so slightly just behind the top of the door.

“Jarvis, I know you’re in there. Let’s talk this over, old friend.”

Kyle and I made eye contact. Wondering how he knew we had returned, I could only think of Aidan. Some part of me hoped the kid was OK.

Raising his arms, and pointing his cane behind him, Gordon continued. “Jarvis, we have more men, more vehicles, more helicopters, and enough artillery to get in there without breaking a sweat. We’re coming in. You know it and I know it.” Pausing to look back at his men with what I imagined was a smile, Gordon lowered his head, looking at us from under his eyebrows as he mocked, “The question is, are we going to do this hard, or are we going to do it real hard?”

Hitting the button on the microphone held up to his lips, Jarvis cleared his throat and called out, “You’ll not take Avalon, Gordon. You and I both know this won’t end well for either of us.”

Shaking his head, as if he’d expected a different answer, Gordon spoke with a hint of sarcasm in his voice, “I was hoping you would see reason,”

Pausing for a moment, letting the tension in the Yard build, Gordon finally called back out, “I’ve got a proposition for all of you Avalonians!”

Looking across our tiny group, I could see each of them hanging on his every word.

Gordon continued, “Anybody willing to drop your arms and give up Avalon right now will be allowed to stay. You’ll work, but you’ll be alive. Just remember, there’s a version of this conversation where you get to survive the night.”

Letting that hang there for a moment, he lowered his voice and spoke one final thing. “This is my final offer. You’ve got ninety seconds to decide.”

Glancing amongst the crowd, I could see heads moving from side to side, as if each of us was looking for someone to step out to accept defeat. For a moment, I half-expected it, but Jarvis didn’t move a muscle. He didn’t even flinch or look back at our group, for that matter. In his mind, we were taking this to the end.

After a solid minute and a half of silence, Gordon realized his offer would be unmet. I remember thinking that it really was a true testament to what we were fighting for… each other.

Before the Hummer shifted into gear and started backing up to join the rest of the madmen at the tree line, Gordon simply said, “It’s been a good run, old friend.”

Looking down at the concrete he was crouched upon, Jarvis sat there collecting his thoughts. It must have been nearly impossible to make the decision to put so many people’s lives on the line.

From behind me, a voice emerged from the crowd. Someone had cracked.

I sure as hell knew his face. Not because he was a great fighter or leader of any sort, but because I’d seen it plastered across any number of trash magazine covers prior to the apocalypse. I think he’d dated a famous singer or pop star, had an illegitimate baby with her or cheated on her, or some other crazy headline. He had long hair that even now looked like it was well conditioned.

All things said he was used to having people look at and listen to him. Eyes always watching. People always following. Guess he felt like it was time to cash in on some of that celebrity credit.

Crawling atop a broken-down car in the middle of the courtyard, Mr. Trash raised his voice loud enough to be heard by those of us scattered throughout the interior of the walls. Calling out cries for retreat, surrender, submission. I nearly shit myself as I watched a few others slowly circling around him, nodding their heads as he spoke.

“It’s not too late. There are at least a hundred armed soldiers who are going to rush in here with God knows how many of the Zs… all intent on killing us. How can we possibly survive this?”

Someone else from the crowd, a woman dressed in a black leather coat spoke up. “What choice do you think we have? Are we just going to give up? What do you think they’ll do with us? Tous?”

Mr. Trash screamed out, “Whatever it is, at least we’ll have a chance to live. We can negotiate with him. Maybe even find a way to work together, and live in harmony. I for one want to live!”

The woman didn’t respond, and just looked up toward Jarvis. I followed her gaze and saw Jarvis looking down at the crowd. He was silent, listening to the discussion. I could tell he was waiting for everybody to simmer down before he spoke.

Then, just like that, Jarvis raised his head, and stood a little taller than I’d seen him do in the past. He was getting ready to give the speech to rally us. The one that would pull us together. He was getting ready to lay it all on the line to tell us how we needed to fight as a group and that we’d make it out of this alive. We would prevail. We would be victorious.

A man can go a lifetime without making a serious mistake. Making all the right moves. Doing all the right things. However, standing one inch too high or one inch too far to the right… it only takes one tiny error for it all to come to an end.

Just as he opened his mouth to speak, his head exploded from a bullet passing through his skull. We all gasped in horror as gore sprayed the crowd. A split second later, we heard the bang from the sniper rifle echo in the distance, followed by what sounded like a horn that suddenly erupted from the tree line.

The world thundered around us as one hundred men let out a battle cry.

They were coming.

Chapter 29

“Nowhere to run! Nowhere to run! Nowhere to run!”

As Jarvis, with a hole blown through his head, fell to his knees, rolled over and then off the top of the cinderblock, there was a momentary calm. We were in the eye of the storm. Even as the screaming madmen outside our walls roared to life, there was a unified gasp from inside the Yard that had yet to be let out.

I wasn’t very close, but I could feel Jarvis’s body hit the ground. The world was completely still, just before all hell broke loose. Three people ran up to check his body, feeling at his neck for a pulse.

“Oh, God! Oh, my God… He’s dead!” one of them cried.

With my mind spinning, the mud seemed to be pulling me down, sucking my entire body into its clutches. Before I knew it, I was on my knees looking out in terror as I realized Jarvis, our leader, my friend, had fallen. Those bastards out there killed him.

Gordon had murdered him.

Pulling one arm up from the mud, I sloshed it sideways, flinging the brown sludge against the cinderblock wall before reaching over to grab the hammer from my belt. Clutching that tool of death, as if it was the only thing able to steady me, I reached to my knee with my other hand and started to push myself up.

The oversized head of the hammer, with its imperfect dings and splintered handle, gave me a greatly needed sense of encouragement at that moment. It provided a calm that stopped my heart from thumping against my chest, and snapped me out of the shock.

Shaking my head, I tried to make sense of the madness inside our walls. A quick movement up the wall to my right pulled my attention to Kyle, who was darting up a ladder to the perch that Jarvis had been stationed on. I stood in amazement, watching him carry on like the soldier he was. He’d turn emotion into action, fighting to make it out of this nightmare in one piece. His time to mourn would have to come later.

Kyle always knew death so well.

Pulling each foot out of the mud, I sprinted over to the same wooden ladder. Keeping a steady eye on Kyle, I watched him lift one arm up to the communication link sitting on his shoulder. With all the screaming, I couldn’t hear him clearly from my own comm link, but I knew what he said.

Kyle was putting part of his plan into action.

Fighting marauders for months had given us plenty of experience in learning how to defend ourselves. This wasn’t the first sniper to take a shot our way, and Kyle had a trick or two of his own to combat this threat.

Glancing from Kyle to the far left wall, I knew that he had said three little words into that comm link.

“God, take them!”

One bright but precise muzzle flash sparked from the topside of our far wall just moments before I saw our own sniper roll off the side of cement and escape undetected into the shadows. God, the same man who’d watched over us from the tower above as we entered and exited Avalon, disappeared into the darkness, no doubt setting off to do what he did best. Judge his enemies from the distance. Decide who lived and who died.

Knowing that, in the darkness, our sniper could see the flash from the enemy’s weapons, it was easy for him to hone right in on the bastard that had taken down Jarvis. Kyle had given specific instruction to God. Never aim for the head. He wanted the fuckers to turn into the dead. He wanted them to tear each other apart out there.

As I slid in next to Kyle, he handed me an AR-15 semi-automatic machine gun, which had a fairly decent scope on it.

“You remember how to use this?”

“We’ll see,” I said as I slid the clip out and checked to make sure it was fully loaded.

“Yes, I think we will,” he said, tapering off.

Pulling the scope to my left eye, I saw the camp across the field. Out in front, horizontally to the tree line, were a series of six wooden crates. Three in a straight line on one side, and three on the other, creating a ten-foot gap between them. Standing six feet high and six feet wide, they made a nice cover for Gordon’s men who were moving around behind them. Slowly sliding the scope back and forth across the camp, I could see the full setup. Gordon had no intention of walking away empty-handed. He had to have had his whole force out there.

It wasn’t until I noticed an arm sticking out of one of the crates that I realized what the wooden boxes were filled with. They were the same ones Jarvis had mentioned earlier.

They’re collecting them, Jarvis had said.

Shifting my weight from one boot to the other, I looked to the ground below. Our walls were clear and free of the dead.

They had collected them all.

“What the hell are they gonna do with the Zs?” I asked out loud, while placing my scope back to my eye.

Kyle grunted, but didn’t say a word as he still stared out through his own scope, trying to sort Gordon’s plan out.

Pulling my attention from the scope and back to the Yard, I heard screaming from below us. In a panic, many of the people inside our walls were fleeing back toward the large metal blast door which would seal them inside the bunker. Believing they’d be safe from the opposing force, hysteria gripped their minds like a tightening vice, squeezing out any and all rational judgment. Avalon would be nothing more than a mass grave if we simply tried to hide. Our countermeasures inside the bunker would be useless if we couldn’t cut Gordon’s forces down in size.

In the middle of it all, I watched as Richards crawled up on the same broken-down car that Mr. Trash had now fled from. Holding his arms straight up in the air in an attempt to capture everybody’s attention, he called out to the crowd to reason with the madness. Trying to loosen the vice’s grip.

It wasn’t working.

Losing his patience, Richards pointed his rifle up in the air and took three shots, stopping everyone in their mud-covered tracks.

Looking out to the crowd, he raised his voice and said, “We have to fight! There is no way out of this. There isn’t anything stopping this army from pulling the door right off the bunker. There’s no running from this one.”

He had a hell of a point.

With his rifle now held across his chest, Richards glared out into the crowd before saying, “No able-bodied man or woman will be hiding this one out. We will stand up against this force. We will have to fight to get out of this. We’ll have to kill every last one of those bastards for us to survive.”

Speaking slowly, as if letting the words slip through his teeth, he said, “Together we live. Together we die.” He shifted his finger over the trigger and raised his head to challenge the crowd.

Water dripping into a nearby puddle was all that was audible in the Yard as we all froze. I watched a woman across from me, the same one wearing the black leather jacket, reach down and pick up a discarded pistol as she started to walk toward Richards. Reluctantly, most of the others followed her, crowding together around the car as Richards slid his finger away from the trigger.

He had our army pulled back together. Now we’d have to see what he could do with it.

Thinking back to a time before all of this, when I’d still worn a tie to work, I found myself reminded about how often leadership would change. I went through a year where I literally had three bosses. Some were better than others were, but at the end of the day, us little worker bees would always be able to adapt to the new person in command. We’d be able to fall in line behind the new priorities, new rules, new leadership.

Humans are programmed to follow.

At that point, I couldn’t help but remember that Richards was a politician. He had charisma. I hadn’t trusted him because of it. However, before I knew it, he had teams of people ready to jump at his instructions. Some armed, some not. All had a purpose, and all were ready for what came next, unified under one simple thought. If we didn’t stand to fight, then we’d be dead by dawn.

He had us all.

Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed as an orange glow danced across Kyle’s face. At first, I thought I was seeing things, but my attention was quickly drawn to the madmen across the field from us. Looking through the scope on my rifle, I witnessed a man with a black rubber-like suit, holding a flamethrower, standing in the opening between the boxes. He was blasting it out in the direction of Avalon in giant bursts, singeing the still-wet grass in the field. The men at the tree line howled to life with delight as each flame illuminated the trees dancing in the wind.

Lifting my face from the scope, I shook my head and rubbed both hands down my legs. Dropping my eyes to the crenellation, I watched a bead of sweat slide down the tip of my nose before splashing into the concrete.

Not wanting to look back up, one single thought passed through my mind, Please, no more fire.

The group across from us began chanting. At first, I couldn’t make out what they were saying. I felt it more than I could hear it. Then it struck me. I knew what they were screaming.

“Nowhere to run! Nowhere to run! Nowhere to run!”

Letting out an exaggerated breath, I realized they were right.

Looking at them from my perch, I couldn’t believe that these men were following Gordon, sticking with that murderer. I’ve often thought about why all those people, his army, would follow such a monster. They had to have been decent humans at one point, before the world turned to shit. No way so many of them were as crazed as he was.

In the end, I’ve landed on one simple fact. Gordon was a leader, a showman. He knew what it took to rally the troops, give them a common cause. If we still had TV in this world, his face would have been plastered across every flat screen… and he would have loved it. The bastard had spent a lifetime controlling people, and he knew one simple fact. We were bred to follow. In the distance, I could see five men ushered into some temporary lighting that had been erected near the ten-foot opening between the boxes. Even from our perch, I could tell they were prisoners. Lifting the scope back to my face, I realized that all five of them were wearing animal furs.

Badly beaten and broken, the five men were on their knees, held down with long dog-wrangling poles—the same ones that we’d seen Gordon use with Mr. Mullet.

Right away, I could see the old man that had blinded us back at the tree fortress. He limped along, his eyes nearly swollen shut, and he held one hand over his stomach. Gordon had left the orange stripe prominently displayed on each of their arms.

I watched as another group of Gordon’s soldiers stepped behind the men with an armful of armor and helmets. Gasping, I had the sudden realization of what was about to happen.

The Arena battle seven months earlier flashed into my mind.

Not believing my eyes, I watched as one by one, all five men had the familiar spiked armor and metallic faceplates with razor teeth violently forced over their bodies. The same Z Death Armor that Gordon had used for sport back at the Arena. I could hear their screams echoing into the night as Gordon’s men used large wooden mallets to drive the long spikes through their chest plates.

All except the old man, that is. He let out a horrific filthy laugh even as the metal shards from the helmet dug into the flesh covering his face. “I’ll be seeing you soon. I’ll be seeing you soon!” he repeatedly yelled just before the mallet came down on the spike.

I’ll be seeing you soon. Last words one certainly wouldn’t ever have heard before the dead started to rise. I wasn’t sure if he was screaming it out to us, or Gordon’s men. One by one, each of the Stripes dropped to the ground. One by one, Gordon’s men pulled them into an empty wooden crate before nailing it shut from behind, sealing the creatures in. Seconds passed before the box came to life, shaking violently as the armored Zs stood, ready to wreak havoc on whatever they could get their deadly grips on.

Kyle whispered under his breath, “They’re weaponizing the Zs.”

Just as the final nail was driven into the crate, a distant sound started to grow from behind the tree line. Louder and louder, it quickly became clear what it was. At least two helicopter engines were roaring to life, causing the grass to wave wildly in anticipation of the fight.

The man in the black rubber suit walked up to the box full of armored Zs, lifted the butt of his flamethrower and pulled the trigger. A burst of angry red flames shot out and lit the wooden crate on fire. Even over the roar of the helo engines, I could hear the moans as I saw two spotlights from the helicopters rising into the air.

“Holy shit!” I heard Kyle scream. “Everybody find cover! Now!”

He had realized it before I did. Kyle knew what this was.

Revealed by the glow of the flames, a wire lifted up between the box and one of the helicopters just before the crate rose from the ground and floated up high into the sky. Far enough from the downdraft caused by the helicopter’s rotors to stay lit, but close enough to burn wildly, the flames from the sealed cage of Zs illuminated the sky with flickers of blood red.

The peering clouds slowly floated by, almost in slow motion as the fire-lit box reached its peak. There was a moment where it seemed to stop in mid-air. It was almost a beautiful sight, before it reached just above our position.

A few gunshots rang out in the air as Richards shouted out orders to take it down. We might have destroyed that Chinook chopper if it wasn’t for the second one that followed. In a hail of raining death, the same gunship from the tree fortress swooped in, letting out a terrifying series of cracks as it spit up the mud and earth inside the Yard with gunfire.

Looking up, Kyle and I couldn’t do a thing to stop the fireball of Z-mail that was getting ready to drop. With a squelch and a snap, the rope came loose, shooting down below the box itself, like a rubber band being snipped, driving the flaming crate downward right toward us.

I watched in horror as it landed smack dab in the middle of the Yard, the box itself crashing on top of that same broken-down car. It burst into ash as glass and metal screamed into the darkness. For a moment, nothing moved aside from the taunting flames.

Until the armored dead started to rise.

Still burning, and many simply broken, the creatures burst out of the wreckage and started in on our forces. I watched as Mr. Trash, who was hiding behind a metal garbage dump right by the landing site, tried to escape. One of the creatures caught his leg and pulled its burning body over him. I could hear his cries for help, but it was already too late. The creature jammed its flaming razor teeth directly into his perfectly conditioned hair, slicing right through his skull. Even from my vantage point, I could see brain matter shoot out of the gash as the creature lifted to reposition itself before diving back in to finish the job.

Just as the gunship turned to head after the Chinook, I heard a distant cry.

“Look out!” That floating behemoth of weaponry let out a final barrage directly toward one of the walls, pumping large caliber bullets through the concrete crenellations, as well as the two men perched near them.

As the men dropped into the Yard, and slowly started to rise as the dead, I found myself understanding what this was.

They didn’t want to break down the walls. These maniacs didn’t need or want the people inside. They wanted to kill us from the inside out.

We were being exterminated.

Chapter 30

A simple bluff. Sometimes they paid off big. Sometimes you get called, and lose everything.

Leaping from the top of the cinderblock, Kyle’s feet landed on the ground before he rolled forward to help break his fall. Spitting mud into the air as he spun, Kyle pulled his body upright only to find himself standing nearly eye-to-eye with one of the armored Zs, its orange-striped shirt blowing in the wind from the helicopter gunship as it soared away.

With its razor teeth fully extended, the creature dove in toward Kyle as he sidestepped, swinging the butt of his gun in one swift motion. He thrust the weapon into the soft part behind the creature’s knee, and the Z plummeted to the ground with a thud that I could hear from above. As it started to push itself up from the mud, the fire illuminated the stream of blackish-red bile that poured from its open chest wound, creating a beautifully lit fountain of gore.

Roaring to full speed, the creature flipped up to its feet and turned back to its adversary. As Kyle stood there, the Z let loose with a primordial scream as it charged forward. Without hesitation, Kyle pulled his gun into his muddy shoulder, leveled the sight on the creature’s head, and pulled the trigger.

I could see the bullet pass out the rear side of the Z’s helmet with a burst of black mist, taking a few of the razors with it. The creature flew backward, slamming into its own puddle of gore, splashing a mix of bile and water against the fire from the box that was blazing just feet away. Only this time, the Z didn’t get back up.

Hearing the helicopter’s rotors twist back to life again, I glanced over my shoulder only to see some of Gordon’s men running another metal line through hoops on the last four of the Z-filled wooden crates across the field. They were getting ready to throw the kitchen sink at us. Another burst of fire from the flamethrower engulfed the boxes just before the chopper lifted up into the sky.

Still pulling the trigger as the crates lifted into the air, the bastard wielding the flamethrower created just enough light for his form to be silhouetted. Just enough of a chance for God to wield his judgment.

The bullet didn’t hit Mr. Flamethrower exactly. Rather, it passed directly by him and into the corner of the fuel tank attached like a backpack to his rear. Through my scope, all I could see was a spark as the bullet chipped into the metal before a small stream of fire poured from the canister to the grass below.

Mr. Flamethrower raced around, pulling at his straps before screaming and running toward the camp, trying to get help. Each of Gordon’s men backed away from the bastard as he came close.

They all knew how this was going to end.

Even from that distance, and over the noise from the helicopters flying toward us, I swear I could hear the final scream from Mr. Flamethrower as the canister exploded in a brilliant burst of light that showered flames across the base camp.

God had passed judgment. He’d hit his mark.

Just moments later, all the lights went dark in the camp. Even through the sight on my weapon, I couldn’t see a thing. Suddenly, a line of ten or fifteen truck headlights all turned on at the same time and started inching forward. They had made the decision to move in on Avalon.

A bloodcurdling scream pulled my attention back to the Yard. Looking down, I could see a fire-engulfed creature, fully covered with that death armor, running maniacally through the mud, taking a swipe at anything it came near.

Clearly blinded, probably from its eyes melting out of its sockets, the monster’s accidental course spun it running toward the garage where we held our trucks, and the fuel that ran them. A number of people took shots at the moving target, but it didn’t seem to affect it as the bullets simply passed through every part of its mangled body—except its head.

Ignoring the flaming boxes now floating directly over me, I instinctively felt one foot move over the other as I took off into a sprint down the narrow top of the cinderblocks. In my gut, I knew that if the creature made it to the cars, the explosion would be catastrophic.

Once I arrived directly above the burning beast that continued to spin erratically as it headed toward the first car in the parking lot, I dove down onto the concrete, pulling the rifle up to my eye. For a moment, everything went still, as if time had stopped. No noise, just my breath as I slowly pulled the sight across the flaming skull of the death armor. Sliding my finger across the trigger, I thought to what Kyle had told me atop the school… You’re a terrible shot.

Letting a deep breath out as I heard the trigger click back, I felt the rifle push into my shoulder. In near amazement, I watched as the bullet passed directly through the creature’s skull, dropping it like a flaming sack of potatoes into a pile of burning flesh just yards away from our fuel tanks.

“Holy shit!” I exclaimed. I was as surprised as anybody.

Pulling myself back on my feet, I glanced at Kyle and the rest of the group. They were standing with their backs against the cinderblock wall, just out of the line of sight from the gunship, as the second series of flaming boxes released from the chopper above. Leaning back against the topside of the wall myself, I watched as the gunship once again riddled the Yard with bullets, spitting up blood-soaked mud in all directions, dropping men and creatures alike.

Seconds later, the flaming wreckage from the boxes started to shift and move as the dead began to pull themselves up. Some crawling, others still able to walk, they all moved in different directions, branching out like a disease through the sludge-covered Yard.

Only this time, we were ready for them.

With the gunship turning around to follow the Chinook, Kyle stepped forward out of the shadows and screamed, “Fire!” as he and seven other heavily armed people laid waste to the creatures. From the distance, it must have looked like a small war inside our walls as the light from the muzzle flashes and fire refracted through the smoke and clouds up above.

Led by Kyle, the firing squad systematically created a half-circle around the twenty or so Zs, dropping each of them into that giant bonfire of death. Legs, arms, torsos all decimated as Kyle’s line stoked the flame with each of the fallen monsters, shooting burning ash up into the sky.

Just as quickly as it had started, everything went silent as the final Z splashed down into the mud. Looking down, I found myself amazed at how Kyle had been able to pull everybody together without Jarvis.

With my back still against the wall, I watched the headlights slice between each of the crenellations. Illuminating the rising smoke, it gave the illusion of souls floating into the heavens. Thinking of the burnt flesh smoldering in the Yard, I’m not so sure it wasn’t.

Gripping the rifle close to my chest, I turned toward the field, ducking down with my eyes just high enough to see the blinding lights still inching toward our walls. Unable to see past them, I couldn’t help but wonder what madness Gordon would throw at us next.

Deciding to join the men below, I crawled over to the nearest wooden ladder and slid down until my boots hit the loose mud. Noticing every able-bodied person grabbing the creatures piled up in the now-smoldering fire and spreading them out around the Yard, I darted over to Kyle. Breathing heavily, I stopped at his feet and lifted the other side of one of the creatures he was carrying until we had it covering an open space in the field.

When I looked him with an eyebrow raised, he simply said, “They need to think we’ve retreated to the bunker.”

Knowing exactly what he meant, I nodded my head before sprinting back to the fire. Bending down, I dragged what was left of another creature to an open piece of field. Trying to stay quiet, we all did our part. Now we had to hope that Gordon would take the bait.

Lying adjacent to the wall, covering myself in mud, I looked around to the rest of the people hiding in the corners of the Yard as we waited. The dampness had soaked to my bones, and I had to fight hard to keep my body armor from rattling as my body shivered.

A simple bluff. Sometimes they paid off big. Sometimes you get called and lose everything. On that day, all we could do was hope that Lady Luck was back on our side. There was no other choice.

As the engine from the gunship boomed back to life, we all held our breaths and listened while the sound rumbled closer and closer to the Yard. Feeling the water pooling up around my stomach, I looked up and saw Kyle crouched down behind one of the sets of ladders with his eyes glued to the clouds.

My hiding spot is absolute shit, I thought to myself, just as the spotlight from the gunship entered the Yard, quickly followed by the chopper, which began circling around the inside of our walls. With my face sideways in the mud, I shielded my eyes as anything not bolted down spun up in the air from the downdraft while the spotlight moved from body to body.

With any luck, the chopper would make the assumption that we’d retreated back to the bunker, signaling the troops to move in on the wall. While it may seem crazy to want Gordon’s men to move in, we didn’t have much of a fighting chance with that gunship flying overhead and Gordon’s men out of firing range. Our only hope would be if they came closer, moving in for the fight, maybe letting their guard down, thinking they had us. Maybe giving us that little wedge of a shot, we’d need to turn this thing in the right direction.

Continuing to fly overhead, the gunship was lingering longer than I would have expected. I couldn’t keep my mind at rest. Was it too easy for them? Had we played this card too early?

I froze, not moving a muscle as the spotlight moved in my direction. Holding my breath, I closed my eyes as the bright light passed directly over me, sliding along the entire interior of the Yard. Exhaling, I slid my face slightly up to see the damn thing hovering right in the middle of everything.

With a crack, a gunner with a large-caliber machine-gun pointing out from the right-hand side of the chopper started to take random shots down into the Yard. Cutting bodies in half, the bastards inside had decided to do what in business we called “spot checking.” They didn’t want to shoot everything, but they’d started to randomly test by blowing holes through some of the bodies below. They were trying to call our bluff.

Sometimes running is easy. It’s remaining still that’s really hard. I know I had the urge to get up and run, so I was sure others did as well. It took everything I had in me as one of the dead Zs less than three feet from my head burst into a bloody mess when the gunman set his sight on it.

I knew it as well as everybody else. Our plan hinged on nobody making a move, so I lay there trying to become one with the mud as the gore from the creature slid across my face, into my nose, and down my lips.

The gunfire moved over to the trucks near the fuel where there were a few men hidden under the trucks themselves. Glass and metal shards flew up into the air as the chopper chipped away at a black Jeep Wrangler. Moving to another vehicle, the gunman nailed a tire, dropping the vehicle down far enough to catch the leg of one man that was hidden beneath it. Cringing, I could nearly feel his leg being shattered. Still, he didn’t make a sound. He held his ground, probably saving us all.

Then, just like that, as quickly as it had flown in, the gunship lifted into the air and floated back across the field.

I’m not sure if I’d actually taken a breath while the gunship hovered above the trucks, but I found myself nearly hyperventilating as it flew away. I wiped the dripping black gore from my face and stood up with the rest of the thirty or so people still left to fight. We all knew what we had to do.

Crawling back up the ladder, I peeked over the edge, careful not to be seen. Giving me a bit of a scare, Kyle slid in next to me, dropping to one knee while sticking his head up just enough to see the lights.

“They’re halfway here,” he whispered.

We both knew we had one equalizer when it came to the field. One way to ensure that anybody moving in on our walls would have a hell of a time doing it. Peeking my head over the wall, the door of the Dead Shed came into view.

It was our turn to spring a trap.

Turning his face to the microphone on his shoulder, Kyle called out his orders. I knew a few of the men below would begin heading over to the lever across the Yard that would release the counterweight designed to pull the door open, much like a garage, on the Dead Shed.

“Wait for my signal,” he called out. “We need to make sure they don’t see it coming. They have to be close so they can’t escape!”

Looking across the wall, I could see the black silhouettes of our remaining forces crawling up the ladder in the darkness, spacing themselves out across the top of the cinderblock wall, each ducking down below the headlights that were getting brighter and brighter. Hearing a few weapons clack against the concrete, it knew it wouldn’t be long before Gordon’s men were upon us.

Looking down at my hand gripping the handle of the hammer, I was reminded of a moment I’d had with Tyler. A single, solitary moment when he was sitting in my lap crying uncontrollably. Lost, I didn’t have a clue what I was doing as a father, as most fathers would probably admit. I remember trying everything I possibly could to calm him down, when he suddenly reached up to clasp his tiny hand around my ring finger. As if his crying was on a light switch, it just suddenly turned off. I remember watching him, with his eyes still closed, holding on like he’d found his grounding. He’d found his father.

He’d found the person who’d protect him. There was no letting him down.

Kyle reached out his fist and extended two fingers to the group. Two minutes until we’d pull the lever.

Shaking my head, I started counting down the seconds, refocusing my mind on the monsters outside. Not the dead, but Gordon’s army, as they marched toward our home. Willing to murder every last one of us, this group was far worse than any zombie. They had intention. They had the ability to think. They had made the decision to kill us. They’d made that choice. I felt no remorse for what we were about to do.

Kyle’s hand extended once again, holding up just one finger.

Waiting to see the white in our enemies’ eyes, as the old saying goes, I couldn’t help but look around the Yard. Death, fire, bullet casings… the whole place was destroyed, with one exception. Somehow, the garden at the far corner had managed to go unscathed. There were still flowers from crops that hadn’t been pulled, waving to me in the darkness. A small reminder of the beauty we’d created here. A small sign of the life that was still standing strong.

“Pull it, pull the lever!” Kyle spoke into the microphone.

Feeling the seconds tick by, as if watching the second hand slowly rotate around a clock, I looked to Kyle. His eyebrows were raised in anticipation, but slowly they came back down as he looked to me.

“I said pull the lever!!”

“We are, but nothing’s happening. It looks like the rope to the counterweight has been cut!” the man on the other end cried out in a panic.

Kyle’s red-rimmed eyes went wide as he pounded his fist into the concrete. “Son-of-a-bitch, someone’s sabotaged the line.” Kyle scowled as he cried out, a little too loud for my comfort, “Remember when we said Rodgers wasn’t as big a dick as we thought? Well, I take it back!”

Dropping my head, I had a fleeting question in my mind. What else could Rodgers have sabotaged?

Gunshots, slamming into the concrete above, rained chunks of rock down across my head as the fresh smell of gunpowder mixed with the smoke from the burning bodies. A scream came from someone to my right, as they took a shot to the head, dropping backwards into the Yard.

Panic struck as we all stayed glued to the crenellations, not sure what to do.

Kyle was the first to react, as he snapped, “Follow my lead,” into his microphone. Standing, as if he was fucking bulletproof, my friend lowered his machine gun and set his sight upon the wooden door of the Dead Shed.

As he pulled the trigger, I watched the muzzle flash burst into the air. Hitting his target dead on, Kyle dropped the clip and locked in another, continuing to blow holes through the wooden door.

In a symphony of fire, sparks flew outward along the entire length of our upper wall as the bullets ricocheted and reverberated through wood. It was hard to tell who was screaming into the night louder, the Zs behind the door or the men along the top of the wall, firing madly. Either way, it was working.

Arms and bodies began flooding out into the darkness like a black tide. Gordon’s men couldn’t possibly have known what was down there. Looking back, I have to assume that Rodgers wasn’t able to get word out about the shed. He was just able to sabotage it. As such, the men standing nearly helpless in the field didn’t have a fucking clue what hit them… until it was too late.

The first of the creatures to reach the cars poured around them like water sliding through a sand castle. I watched as the monsters crept through the grass and over the vehicles while pulling down Gordon’s front line forces.

There was a sense of sweet madness in the air as we watched those men get taken down. I felt myself cheering inside as I watched from the wall. Trying to retreat, Gordon’s forces turned back, sprinting through the grass. However, the men on the front line, the first to fall, had risen and were already up and sprinting after their prey. None of them had a chance once the whole thing really got going.

After standing there in amazement, for what was probably too long to be safe, our group finally lowered down behind the safety of the wall. We continued to gaze out between the crenellations into the darkness of the field. The horde, fueled by our creatures from the Dead Shed and stoked by the men they’d overrun, had already reached Gordon’s base. Looking through my scope, I patted Kyle’s back in amazement as I watched the creatures crawling over the gunship, tearing through its passengers and pilots. I couldn’t hear them screaming, but I doubt Mozart himself could have crafted a sound more beautiful.

We had won. I couldn’t believe it. We’d pushed back Gordon’s forces. The dead were taking them down. We were safe behind the walls. It all seemed too good to be true.

In boxing, they tell you that it’s not the blow you see coming that you have to worry about. It’s the one that you don’t see that will knock you on your ass. Nothing could have been closer to the truth.

Suddenly, from behind us, there was a BOOM. Twisting around, looking beyond the hill to our back, we saw light shooting out from the Greenbriar Hotel. The sound waves from the explosion actually made my body armor rattle against my legs.

“What the hell was that?” I asked, already knowing the answer.

“They’re coming in from the back, through the Greenbriar entrance,” Kyle yelled, clearly as surprised as I was.

In that moment, it hit me. The frontal attack was a distraction. We’d been flanked.

Gordon’s men would be entering Avalon. Now I feared the maniac was right. There wasn’t a thing we could do about it.

Chapter 31

(BOHICA) Bend Over! Here It Comes Again

Darting through the mud and leaping over burnt corpses, what was left of our little group slid down the stairs leading toward the oversized entrance of the Avalon bunker. Seeing the circular metal door wide open, as if someone had popped the top to Pandora’s box, I cringed as we approached the dark halls leading down deep into the bunker itself.

Flooding through the opening like mice trying to escape a storm, scattering down the hallways, each person headed to what they knew to be our only remaining option.

Richards stood by the entrance, waving his hand as we darted by. Worriedly making eye contact with Kyle, nothing was said, but we knew exactly what he needed us to do. We just had to make sure everybody was in the bunkroom, one of only two reliable places that the gas wouldn’t penetrate. The other being the cafeteria, where Richards would be heading off to in just moments.

Sprinting down the long hallway, I winced as the florescent lights above flickered, followed by an earthshaking blast. I couldn’t be sure, but I was guessing they had just broken through the metal blast door leading into the Great Hall itself. They’d only have one final door to bust through before our halls would be filled with the enemy.

Screams of the dead floated down the corridor, slapping into my face like a brick, as I realized we hadn’t gotten them all. Somehow, some of the Zs had managed to escape from the Yard, infiltrating the only safety we thought we had left. Stepping over the body of an African American man with a blade sticking out of his forehead, Kyle and I continued charging further into the depths of Avalon.

Monsters inside, Gordon’s men coming in soon… death was floating around the walls of our home, looking for anybody to tap on the shoulder.

Deanna and Claire knew to be in the bunkroom with the kids, along with nearly half of what was left of Avalon’s inhabitants. The steel doors protecting the place, where most of Avalon’s people normally slept, would be our last line of defense against anything living or dead. Kyle and I knew we needed to get to the bunkroom, where the switch to our final weapon, Project BOHICA, would need to flipped on.

We had the thing rigged so that it would automatically shut all the doors to both of those rooms just moments before the gas was released into the air ducts running through the hallways, which we learned early on were not connected to the bunkroom or the cafeteria, creating a perfect delivery system.

There was screaming from around the corner, then a woman yelling in pain. Her last words were those to God before I could hear her gurgling on what sounded like her own blood. Pulling my hammer up high as we reached the end of the wall, I slid through a puddle of blackish-red gore as we turned the corner.

A stain. It’s all that’s left of us when we’re gone.

Three creatures were hunched over, tearing into the flesh of the woman. All stopped and looked up at us with those savage red eyes. Things seemed to stop for a moment, frozen in time, as drool mixed with bile slipped from their mouths; they looked like a set of starving bulldogs. With the same effect as the sound of a gunshot to start a race, I could see a drop fall, splashing to the concrete. Things were so quiet in that instant, I actually think I heard it hit. Then things sped up fast. The monsters all leapt to their feet in unison and charged toward us.

Dropping my shoulder, I flipped one of them over my back, watching it fall to the ground with a hard thud. Kyle shoved the butt of his rifle through one of their faces while I raised my hammer from my crouched position, bringing it directly through the third monster’s jaw. As it dropped to its knees, I put my foot on its shoulder and yanked, pulling the bottom half of its face clean off.

Finishing up the monster who had flipped over my back, Kyle looked up at me and nodded down the corridor. We were beyond talking. Our primal instincts had taken over. One single objective shared between our two minds. We needed to launch BOHICA, and the switch was sitting in the bunkroom.

Racing past the communication and monitoring room, I noticed blood smeared down the inside of the glass wall that would normally display the dated-looking equipment blinking in the darkness. A crash from within the black depths of the room grabbed my attention as I realized there was a Z in there destroying the place. Someone appeared to have locked it in, helping me understand why no one had seen Gordon coming in from the rear.

We were, for all intents and purposes, blind to the exterior walls from down there.

Calling into the microphone on his shoulder, I heard Kyle try to confirm that the bunkroom was filled. A few gunshots could be heard in the background as Mia’s panicked voice came back, telling him that they had everybody they were going to get, but that they wouldn’t be able to hold back the creatures trying to enter through the entrance much longer.

“We’ll be there in twenty seconds!” One final sprint, the door just fifty yards away. Bodies were piled up, creatures that the men guarding the entrance had dropped as they tried to penetrate the room. Nearly being mistaken for the dead before calling out to the firing squad, we slipped in through the door just as they dropped a few of the Zs at our heels.

“Hold the hallway,” I heard Mia order to a few men, including our sniper God, who held a larger than life rifle. One by one, they fell back into the room, keeping their weapons pointed down the dark tunnel. A few shots rang out as we were joined by a few other final Avalonians from outside. Meanwhile, Kyle darted over toward a metal closet in the back of the room, which contained the BOHICA switch, as I turned to look into the crowd. I needed to find Tyler.

Panic sucker-punched me in the gut as my eyes darted around the room from bunk to bunk. Tyler was nowhere to be seen. Calling out his name, the only response I received was from Mia, who ran up next to me.

“Deanna, Claire, and the kids haven’t shown, John.”

I didn’t respond, looking blankly into the air.

“Before the intercom went out, they signaled to us that they were trapped in their room with some of the creatures outside in the hall.”

Gripping my hammer, I dropped my head then looked to the door.

“Sorry, John. We just couldn’t get to them. Maybe they made it to the cafeteria. They could be fine.”

I wasn’t willing to bet on it.

Glancing at Kyle, who was frantically playing with a bunch of wires by the switch, I sprinted over to him.

“Rodgers must have fucked this thing up too!” he yelled out while twisting two yellow wires together.

“I’ve got to go back after my son!” I said, looking into his beaten-down face.

Pausing for only a second, he slid his grandfather’s watch off his wrist and tossed it to me. “I’ll have this up and running in seven minutes. Get your son and head to the cafeteria.”

He then reached into his pocket and pulled out the weapon light that he’d picked up at the Stripes’tree fortress. “It’s dark out there. This thing may work on the Zs,” he said as he slapped it into my palm with a handshake.

Sliding the watch over my wrist, I looked up, making eye contact with him one last time.

“I want that watch back when this is over,” he said with a half-smile.

Nodding with as much confidence as I could muster, but not saying a word, I turned and sprinted back toward the door to the tunnel. Looking out into the darkness, I had the realization that Gordon’s men were likely moving in through the hatch by now. The place was crawling with Zs, Kyle was about to pull the switch… and I was about to step back into the nightmare to get to my son.

Calling to one of the men in the firing squad to throw me his handgun, I caught the nine mil in my left hand, squeezing the base of my hammer tightly with my right.

“Keep that door open,” I said, staring toward the men guarding it while they were just starting to push the hatch closed.

They glanced to Mia.

“NOW!” I screamed.

Mia yelled, “Well, what are you waiting for!”

Stepping my right foot out the door, I looked back to God who said, “The door stays open. Not one of them will touch you while you’re in my sight.” Nodding, I turned my eyes down the corridor and stepped into the hall as I heard Mia screaming to God and the rest of the firing squad, “Cover him!”

Darting down the hall, stumbling through a puddle of what looked like intestines, I looked up to see a number of Zs flowing down the hallway toward me. Gritting my teeth, I lifted my hammer ready to go to battle. However, every time one of them came within arm’s length, all I saw was black mist spurt up into the air as the men behind me took them down.

Putting my faith in their aim, I lowered my head and took off at top speed forward.

As one final creature fell right ahead of me before I turned the corner, I knew I had to get past the communications room and then down an even longer corridor before I made it back to my room. I couldn’t think of the possibility that Tyler was dead, or worse. Just had to keep pushing forward.

For a moment, the world became eerily silent. Each of my footsteps echoed off the walls around me, and I could literally hear my feet squeak across the linoleum as I turned down each hallway.

As soon as I realized how quiet it was, that’s when the world around cracked and then boomed. A deafening blow rang through each hall, enough to drop me to my knees. I was disoriented for a moment as the lights above flickered, rubble fell, and the whole core of Avalon shook.

Reaching up to my ear, I pulled my hand back down to see blood smeared across my fingers. Something had popped. I had no time to think about whether it was permanent or not. Standing back up, trying to move forward, everything was ringing. Shaking my head, I steadied myself on the wall and got the second wind I needed to keep moving.

Turning the final corner, I nearly gasped as I approached the pitch-black hallway leading to my room. The lights were completely knocked out, creating the kind of dark your eyes don’t quite adjust to. The kind where you never see the dead coming up on you until it’s too late… and I could hear them, lurking out there in front of the door to my room.

Another boom, although much lighter, could be heard bouncing around the hallways. At that point, it was clear to me. Gordon’s men had blown the final hatch and had pulled it off. The halls would be flooded with their men in moments. I knew Kyle wouldn’t have a choice. He’d have to pull the switch.

Glancing down to his grandfather’s watch, I could see that I had less than three minutes left. Time is such a relative thing. Sitting in a cold office waiting for beer thirty would turn minutes into hours. Sprinting through a cold dark hallway and being chased down by Death himself would turn hours into seconds.

Three simple rotations around a ticking watch. That’s what I had left.

Ducking down against one wall, I slowed my breathing and silently slid the nine mil into my holster. Reaching to my front pocket, I pulled the strobe light out, finding the switch on the side with my thumb. It wasn’t fitted for the nine mil, and I couldn’t aim worth a shit in the dark. From this point out, it would have to be my hammer and me if this thing didn’t work.

Practically walking on my tiptoes to get as close as possible without being detected, I could hear the creatures ramming into the door to my quarters. I had no idea how many there were, but their maddening, rapid moans had me nearly shitting myself at the thought of there being more than I could handle.

Just ten or so yards away from where I thought they were, I cautiously slipped my thumb over the switch, knowing the flash would need to be right in their faces. No getting around having to be up close and personal. No sneaking by. This was to the death, theirs or mine, and no matter the odds, I was getting to my son.

Lifting the hammer high up over my shoulder, with the strobe held in front of my chest, I had just feet, maybe inches, before I’d find out if my confidence matched my ability. Sometimes confidence makes up for lack of ability. Sometimes, it gets you killed. At least, I had the element of surprise.

Then Murphy’s Law kicked in.

“Chhh, John, we’re getting ready to hit the gas. You have two minutes.” Mia’s voice came from the speaker on my shoulder.

Shit!

The Zs stopped moaning, going completely silent. I could feel their red eyes looking directly at me before they all at once shrieked loud enough for even my bloody ear to hear them. Footsteps came charging at me in the dark. Now or never, I thought.

Flipping the switch, the strobe shot out bright. With each flash, they charged forward, seemingly in slow motion like a flip book that you’d let slowly slip through your fingers. All ten Zs moving a snapshot closer with each burst of light. There were men and women, even a small child charging toward me.

Flash! Nine still charging toward me.

Flash! A few dropped to the ground.

Nearly upon me. I started to step back, tripped over some debris on the ground and hit the ground hard. Lying on my back, another series of strobes went off, shooting directly at the ceiling as the shadows of the monsters edged closer. Pointing it back down the hall, I continued to pull myself in reverse as fast as possible with my free arm while kicking my legs frantically.

Squeezed into a small corner, I nearly closed my eyes as a final series of strobes dropped the last of the dead, just inches from my feet. Taking a deep breath in, I mashed the switch on the gun light to regular flashlight and looked down the hall. All of the Zs had dropped to the ground, violently convulsing.

I leaped to my feet.

With my hammer still drawn, I zigzagged around the twisting bodies. Hitting the door with my hammer, I screamed out, “It’s John, the Zs are down. Open up!” It didn’t matter if Gordon’s men heard me. Less than a single rotation left on the watch.

No answer. The fleeting thought that the creatures I’d just flashed were the very people I’d come to save passed through my mind. Not accepting that fate, I pounded the metal head of the hammer against the door once more.

“Open up!”

Footsteps were echoing down the hallways in the distance. Banging on each door as they methodically moved through Avalon, Gordon’s men were filling our home.

Standing at full attention, I stopped breathing before a creak came from the door. Letting out the breath, the door cracked open, exposing Claire’s fearful, yet beautiful eyes.

“Come on, no time!”

Pushing the door in all the way, I reached out to Deanna and pulled Tyler to my chest. Grabbing Claire’s hand, we started running down the hallway with Deanna and Olivia in tow. The cafeteria was just around the corner. Glancing down, I squeezed Claire’s hand as I realized the watch had passed the seven-minute mark.

A few more knocks in the distance, then I heard a gunshot, a man scream… then another series of gunshots. They’d found someone else hiding in their room.

“Come on, keep moving!” I nearly yelled.

Turning the corner, I peered down the hallway. The door to the cafeteria was closing automatically. The gas would be released in just moments.

“Go go go!”

Hearing me, Richards frantically tried to stop the door through the sliver that still remained open. However, it was too late, it was shutting and there was no override switch. We put on a last burst of speed.

Dropping the strobe light to the ground, I instinctively lifted my left hand forward into the crack of the door just before it shut. It would have to take my arm with it, but I wasn’t going to let it shut without Tyler in there. No telling how this gas would affect his lungs. I wasn’t going to chance it. Not for anything… not even my hand.

Coming to a grinding stop, the door halted its inexorable movement. I could hear the metal on metal sound of gears turning. My hand was being crushed, I was sure of it, but couldn’t feel a thing.

“Come on, get that thing open!” I could hear Richards yelling from inside.

A number of men were wedging their guns into the crack, edging it back open.

Just as it started to budge, a swishing sound started in the air above us.

“The gas, come on, get that thing open!” Richards yelled out.

Prying the door open just enough to squeeze through, I slid Tyler and Olivia through first.

The rest of us dove in, with Richards and the group forcing it tight and locking it before I’d even hit the ground. My heart beating out of my chest, I winced at the thought of looking to my hand. I was sure I was in shock.

Holding it out in front of me, I opened my eyes.

Everything was fine… except my wedding ring, which was slightly bent sideways.

Chapter 32

The truest test of any man is his ability to protect his family.

Sitting upright, I pulled Tyler into my arms and squeezed his tiny body into my chest hard enough to feel the rise and fall of his lungs. Not a whimper or a cry came from his mouth; he simply looked up at me, his father. Glancing down beyond Tyler’s forehead, my eyes landed on my wedding ring as its bent frame rolled a little off center around my finger.

That vow, a simple object that had meant so much between my wife and me…

Thinking back to her grave, where in a rage I’d nearly left it behind all those months ago, it turned out to be the sole object that saved us. Saved my son. I can’t help but look back at that and be amazed, almost like she had something to do with it all.

Somehow, I really believe she did.

After what felt like ten long minutes of painful silence, as we impatiently waited to learn if BOHICA had actually knocked Gordon’s army unconscious, a man’s voice finally shattered the stale air.

Looking up, I saw a group of people huddled around a TV monitor in the corner of the cafeteria, which appeared to be showing nothing but still images of darkness just outside our door.

“They’re all down!” the faceless voice cried out.

“Are you sure?” Richards growled.

“Yeah, no movement in the halls. They’re all passed out!”

“According to Kyle, the gas should dissipate after five or six minutes,” Richards stared at the door, pausing as if taking a moment to calculate the time that had passed. Lifting his rifle across both hands, he slowly lowered his head for a moment before his eyes landed on the hatch.

In a near solemn tone, he whispered, “Open the door. It’s time to finish this.”

I could feel it as I involuntarily slid Tyler back in Deanna’s arms. There was a madness still in the air. A thirst for blood that ran deep within our walls. Richards had said it best up in the Yard. We’ll have to kill every last one of those bastards for us to survive.

Squeezing out the door first as it opened, I sensed a slight tinge of orange hanging in the air, from what I imagine was a remnant from the gas. I could taste it on my tongue and in the back of my throat.

With each step forward, my mind started to turn a little darker. Like a disease, I felt an uncontrollable rage begin to crawl across my body. Pumping madness through my veins, my mind started doing what I can only describe as place blame. I blamed disease, cosmic dust, terrorists… it didn’t matter… something had started all this mess. I blamed the politicians, the bosses, the corporate blowhards that ran our world, creating the perfect playing field for the disaster.

Filled with the rich that ate up all the money, the poor that let them do it… I blamed all of them who fueled the monsters like Gordon, whether they knew it or not. I blamed the prophets and the futurists that spoke of a world we’d never see, creating false hope in the minds of the feeble. I blamed cell phones, the Internet, TV, all the devices used to turn us into mindless drones, unable to think for ourselves … breeding us to follow in the same ways Gordon’s men would mindlessly follow him into this battle.

With my hammer lifted high, I stepped down the corridor. My eyes landed on a few passed-out bodies holding firearms. They were obviously part of Gordon’s army. Less than thirty feet from us. I moved in with a determination for blood.

One foot after another, the blame grew. I blamed a homogenized planet, teaching us to stop thinking for ourselves, allowing us to follow celebrities and the false famous. I blamed the stupid as well as the intelligent. I blamed the wicked and the righteous.

With all that blame stewing inside, all I could think of was that this was our new world. Our new reality… it was kill or be killed. It wasn’t my fault that this was the way things were now. I hadn’t created this. Gordon’s men were the monsters, and we needed to make sure they never came back. I blamed them for following a maniac, for allowing themselves to be turned into pawns.

It would all justify my actions.

As I marched down the hall, with Richards and three other men in tow, I knew there was nothing stopping this lust for revenge. We’d fallen too far.

I could feel it. I was falling too far.

Reaching the first body, I fell to my knees and grabbed Gordon’s man by his hair. I’d be killing him in cold blood, while he was asleep, and in my very core I knew it was the right thing.

Raising my hammer in the air, flexing every muscle in my body, I prepared to finish it, when my eyes fell on the shoes. Those fucking Nike Pegasus shoes with the florescent green stripes running down the sides. The boy had told me that they were supposed to help him fly.

Letting Aidan’s hair slip from my fist, I felt like I’d been smacked in the skull as I heard his body hit the ground with a thump. Paralyzed in thought, I left my hammer sitting up in the air waiting for me to do something with it.

He was just a boy. A child who didn’t know who he was fighting or why. How many others passed out in these halls were exactly the same? Could I really blame them? Did they deserve to die in the name of Gordon Green? Were they really the true monsters? Or were they just a byproduct of the same hell we’d all been through?

With my mind spinning, I found myself screaming something out loud. At first, it didn’t register as the other men were prepping for their kills. Then I actually heard myself yelling at the top of my lungs, “STOP!”

Not listening, their lust for revenge was running too high.

Looking back down the hallway, I could see Claire covering Olivia’s eyes. She was whispering something that sounded like a lullaby into her ears, as my shouts rang through the halls.

“I SAID STOP!”

Looking up from his prey, I heard Richards scream out in a fury, “We need to destroy these monsters!” As a light reflected off the blade he was getting ready to bring down.

“There will be no more death today,” I said, staring down the base of my hammer at Richards’s head. My mind was resolute. Nothing was clearer to me. I wouldn’t allow myself to focus all that blame on these men.

I wouldn’t allow myself to fall that far. I knew I’d never come back. A pause filled the hall. Richards stood there, still with his blade held high.

“We’ve won. We’ve beaten them,” I said in a near whisper. Lowering my hammer, I glanced to Aidan’s passed-out body, and then looked back up to Richards. “Nobody else needs to die today.”

As he looked at the three men surrounding him, I could tell that Richards was making a decision. The one that would blow with the wind. The politician in him would have to decide which the right move was to get him to the top. With Jarvis down, he was next in line. Which was the move that the people would want to see?

Which way would he land?

Slowly lowering his knife to his side, he looked again at the men standing next to him and said, “Let’s get this filth locked up in the prison.”

A momentary pause from his counterparts had him screaming, “Now! You heard me, get them locked up before they wake up. John is right. We’ve already won.”

With that, his shoulders slumped as he looked down to the boy at my feet. I could see it in his eyes, if only for a moment. He realized what we were about to become.

Bringing his red-rimmed eyes back up to meet mine, he stopped and peered into my face, examining what felt like my soul. I think he was trying to figure me out. I’d shown him something he hadn’t expected. Keeping eye contact, I said, “We did the right thing here. You did the right thing,” before I slowly began to spin on one foot to turn back to the cafeteria.

As I stepped, one foot after another, down the hall, I heard Richards finally reply, “I hope you’re right, John. I hope you’re right.” He hit the microphone on his shoulders and started barking out the same orders to imprison the rest of the sleeping soldiers that laid across our floors.

Looking back down to my hand, the one with the bent wedding ring, I stepped through the hatch.

Forgiveness was nearly impossible to grant myself for letting Jenn die. Ultimately, I couldn’t blame anybody but myself. So many errors leading up to her death, all of which were my own. Somehow, putting it all on the line for Tyler, and making sure that I was ready to trade everything for him, provided the tiniest bit of solace. We had all changed. We all had to adapt to this new world.

My biggest adaptation was for me to learn to forgive. If I didn’t change, didn’t let go of the past, I’d be swallowed up by this world. I’d be consumed and spit out just like so many others before me.

Forgiving myself is something I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to do. However, sometimes things just are. Sometimes, you can’t place blame. I had to allow myself to trust that I did what I could to make it things right. Trust that I did what was necessary to protect those I loved.

Hearing Claire continue to sing small lullabies lightly under her breath as I entered the room, I set my sights on Deanna and Tyler who were just three shorts steps away.

Letting the fire breath out of my lungs, and pushing the tiny dark spot to the back of my mind, I placed my hands under his arms as I lifted him from Deanna, and held him up to see his face.

I couldn’t help but think it. Think back to my wife. He looked so much like her. The same tiny movements, the same slightly slanted smile. I’ll always look back at that moment in time and feel like everything I had done in my life led up to saving my son.

Isn’t that what being a father is all about? The truest test of any man is his ability to protect his family. I’d failed once. It wasn’t something I was going to ever allow myself to do again.

Chapter 33

They severed the disease like a festering wound.

With my knees up, feet flat on the ground, I sat in the corner of the room with Tyler in my lap. Nearly asleep, the nebulizer mask lay over his face as the tiny machine spun in the background. Pushing the medicine into his lungs, I hoped that it would help protect him from any lingering smoke or gas still in the bunker.

Nobody spoke, but we all had things to say as we waited in the cafeteria for our troops to clear out the hallways of Avalon. Led by Deanna, most of the people were breaking into an airtight bag of dried beef jerky across the room. Olivia stood there in eager anticipation as the bag ripped open, letting the familiar smell of salted beef radiate into the air.

Not wanting to let her baby leave her sight, Claire hovered nearby like a bear protecting its cub. Realizing we were all doing a bit of hovering, I stroked my hand over Tyler’s cheek. I could see Olivia with a mouthful of jerky. The child had seen so much, yet she stood there with a smile across her face, thinking more about her stomach than all the death just feet outside the hatch to the hallway.

The resilience of youth is amazing.

Finding myself deep in thought, I hoped that Olivia wouldn’t fall numb to the world we lived in, steering her too far away from what it meant to be human. Those of us who were adults, by the time this shit storm hit, had a sense for what the word civilized really meant. Well, the few of us who fought to maintain it anyway, that is. We carried it with us as our legacy from a world that would be long forgotten by the time a child like Olivia grew up. Glancing down at Tyler, whose eyes were squeezed shut, I knew I needed to make sure he’d never forget where we all came from. I wouldn’t let him grow up to be the monster that I had nearly become.

I wouldn’t let him lose his humanity.

Squelching to life, the mic on my shoulder tore me from my thoughts, making me jerk upright, nearly waking Tyler from the restful sleep he was enjoying on my lap.

“John, you alright?” I heard Kyle ask through the speaker.

“Don’t know if I’ll ever be alright, but I’m sitting here with my son and we’re alive.”

Before responding, there was a short silence, as if Kyle was busy on the other end.

“I’m grabbing a few men to head into the Greenbriar. We’ve got to make sure the hotel is clear.”

He didn’t ask, but I knew what he needed, and I couldn’t let him down.

“I’ll be there in a few minutes.”

“Good. Don’t forget to bring my watch.”

“Sorry man, I’ve grown kinda attached to it at this point. Not sure I can part with it.”

“Right… we’ll see about that. Anyway, God is on his way. He’ll be stopping by to grab you. No need to be walking the halls alone at this point. Still a lot of unknowns lurking around the corners.”

I didn’t want to part with Tyler, but I knew Kyle and the rest of the team needed the help. So, with a giant sigh, I squeezed Tyler one last time and slid him back into Deanna’s waiting arms anyway.

“Hello, little man,” she said as she pulled him into her shoulder.

“You mind watching him for a bit longer?” I asked as I glanced to the door.

“Not one bit. You go make sure it’s safe out there. We’ll be alright here.”

Smiling, I patted her on the shoulder. “I don’t know what we’d do without you, Deanna.”

Returning the grin, she rubbed her hand through Tyler’s blond hair before saying, “On the contrary, John, I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

Moments later, I found myself walking through the halls of Avalon following God, who had that giant rifle slid over his shoulder, hanging around his back. With the lights nearly all restored, the remnants from the chaos littered the floors with rubble, weapons, and stains of blood. Watching our men dart around trying to clear the place up, I knew it wouldn’t be long before Avalon was clean. It would take a lot longer for the people to feel the same way.

Glancing from the floors, I asked God, “Do we have Gordon yet?”

Shaking his head, he replied, “No confirmation of his capture.”

In Greek mythology, when someone dies, two coins are often placed over the person’s eyes or in some cases in their mouth. The idea was that the person’s soul had to pass across a river that separated Earth and the Underworld. Evil people would go to what we today know as hell to be punished by being drowned in muddy waters for eternity. Mythology says that a ferryman named Charon would have to transport the soul across the river and that the coins were to pay his toll for the trip.

While I wasn’t ready to kill his men, I was resolute in the fact that Gordon needed to be sent off down the river with the ferryman. As we walked down the halls, looking at all the destruction, it would have been my pleasure to place the coins over his eyes myself, and give Charon a high five while providing the ferry boat a good kick to send it on its way.

Flushing the thought to the back of my mind, I decided to focus on the Greenbriar. The hotel was enormous, and with Gordon still missing, we had no idea if he or some of his men were still up there. It would have to be a room-by-room search. I guess it was fortunate that much of the place had burnt to the ground. It would give us a smaller area to cover, but that area was still filled with plenty of hiding spots.

Approaching the door to the Great Hall, I couldn’t help but be reminded that this was where the revolt had started. As the Arena collapsed, this was the place where Jarvis decided to take it all away from Gordon.

The hatch itself was lying on the floor near a hollow opening to the room. With a silver-metal singe marking where the hinges once were, it was clear that Gordon’s men had used some sort of explosive. Entering the Great Hall, an uneasy feeling tightened my chest, an anxiety that I’d often felt while doing no more than passing outside the place. The hall itself was enormous, with pillars from the ceiling the floor. Glancing to the concrete, even the Great Hall seemed to have been overrun with the Zs. Not yet cleared, bodies still sprawled all around, blood pooling up as we splashed through the death. I remember thinking that so many people had died in that room.

It seemed to be made for horror.

Across the cavernous room, where the hatch to enter the Greenbriar was located, I noticed Kyle giving out orders to the fourteen or so men gathered around. We’d be breaking up into two-man teams and doing a sweep of the various halls and rooms that still remained post-fire. With the comms now restored, we received reports that nothing had been seen in the Greenbriar. However, with the exterior hatch missing, we had to be sure nobody else would be sneaking in from that entrance.

Reaching Kyle just as he finished speaking, we shook hands. Looking at his palm as I pulled mine away, he noticed his watch hanging from his fingers.

“I decided to part with it after all,” I said casually. “Not really my color.”

Smiling, he slid it over his wrist and replied, “Yeah, takes a real man to wear this bad boy.”

Pulling the hammer from my belt, I shook my head with an amused grunt as we stepped through the hatch that led to the hotel. Kyle and I were responsible for the West Wing, an area filled with conference rooms, which ultimately led up to where we’d landed the chopper earlier.

Passing the same singed paintings and once valuable furniture, we cautiously scouted ahead through the halls. One of us would enter the room, followed by the other—both with our weapons drawn. Very tactical in nature. Kyle was a good teacher when it came to clearing out a building. He’d done it many times before.

With nothing jumping out at us, aside from the smell of mold and mildew, we finally made it to the staircase leading up to the roof where the helicopter was.

“The sun should nearly be coming up,” Kyle said, after glancing down to his wrist.

“It’s going to be crazy to see what the Yard and the field look like.”

“Yeah, I’m not looking forward to having to clear any of it,” Kyle replied as he kicked in the door to the staircase.

Reaching the top, Kyle entered first, with me close on his heels. With our weapons drawn, we quickly ascertained that nothing was there aside from the helicopter, which still had the door drawn open from when we’d left it in a hurry when we returned earlier. I remember not closing it as I darted down to the bunker with the medication. I guess we’d all been eager to get down there.

The sun was barely peeking through the tree limbs, its accusing rays pointing toward us, as if surprised to see the leftovers from the madness of humanity that it had missed the night before.

Cautiously walking to the edge, we gazed over the side to see just about the entire field flowing with Zs. I cringed as I realized they were packed up nearly five Zs deep, pressing against our exterior hoping to get in. To my surprise, Mr. Gate was still holding his post in the armored bus. We waved down to him. He noticed us, and gave that good ol’ thumbs up.

“That’s a relief,” I said, as I waved back down.

He’d held the gate shut. The Yard was still closed off from the outside world. I had to admire the guy. Sometimes you find what you’re good at, and you make sure you never leave its side. He was the protector of our Yard, the man who decided what came and went. He’d held his post. Most others wouldn’t have.

“Check out Gordon’s base camp,” Kyle said, lifting his weapon toward the busted-down tents. There wasn’t a human still out there, and the whole of the area had been nearly flattened, as if a giant child playing army had a temper tantrum, throwing his arm across its toys.

“Wonder if any of them escaped.”

“Don’t know. Don’t really care as long as they don’t come back,” Kyle said, almost distantly, as he started to turn around.

“You think Gordon was out there? Watching the whole thing when it was taken over?”

“We can only hope.”

Taking a few steps back toward the staircase, he added, “We should meet up with the others. They’ll need our help to clear the East Wing.”

“Right.” I agreed, starting to step back, still keeping my eyes on the field for just a moment, as I thought about the fact that we were still alive. Deep down, I simply couldn’t believe we’d won.

“I’d better close that sliding door,” Kyle said as he stepped to the right toward the chopper, while I continued to move to the stairs.

I didn’t reply, my eyes fixed on the door to the staircase, as if I expected something or someone to come jumping through. With my weapon raised, I slowly approached the dark entrance with each foot cautiously inching past the other.

Getting ready to call out to Kyle, to tell him that I had a shitty feeling in the back of my gut, I suddenly heard him scream out in surprise.

“What the fu…?” the moment before the gunshot shattered the silence.

Jumping out of my skin, I spun around with the hair on the back of my neck at full alert. With my heart thumping, I saw Kyle hit the ground in near slow motion. His body thudded down as I watched the firearm he’d been carrying slide across the rooftop.

A faint wood on metal clicked two times before I saw the cane emerge from the shadows of the chopper followed by the barrel of the gun that was pointed in my direction.

Gordon emerged from the darkness with a smile.

“Not so fast. I wouldn’t do that if I were you.”

He could see me lifting my gun. I didn’t even know I was doing it.

Looking at Kyle in a panic, I felt dizzy as I realized he wasn’t moving. No fucking way Gordon killed him. No way that bastard had killed my friend. Mind still spinning, I hardly heard Gordon talking in the background. Until he said, “I can’t believe it was so easy for this big bastard to fall.”

Blood boiled as it raced through my veins. With my eyes falling directly on Gordon, I felt my body trembling, not with fear, but with one transfixed thought of hate. I needed to figure out how to call the ferryman.

Stepping down from the chopper, Gordon cringed slightly as he used his bad leg to step over Kyle’s body, which now had a small pool of blood circling out from his chest. Gordon remained silent as he stood there, the weapon still pointing at me. I could hear the whispering of the grass and trees as the breeze floated by. There was a calm in the distance, as if the whole world was watching to see what happened next.

Gordon said, “Why don’t you go ahead and toss that gun over here.” When I hesitated, he pointed the gun down to Kyle’s face.

“Now, now, John… your boy here is still breathing. You want me to make sure he stops?”

Flipping the gun around and tossing it, I heard it skip and rattle across the pavement, stopping a few feet from where Gordon stood. Nodding in approval, he stepped away from the chopper and Kyle with his cane slowly clicking as he made his way to the edge of the roof.

A rage flared in Gordon’s eyes as he glanced over the side at what was left of his base camp. I could see it building as the hand holding his cane began to shake ever so slightly. Taking a deep breath in, he shook his head before turning back toward me. He seemed to be deep in thought before he finally spoke.

“The world was nothing before I arrived. A festering wound that wouldn’t close. The masses ran rampant, killing us from the inside out. The lazy, the weak, the motivated and the strong… they all needed guidance. I was willing to give that to them.

“We were ready to rule in a way that hadn’t been achieved since the Gods roamed the Earth. I was going to be humanity’s savior. The man who brought us back from the depths we’d sunken to. Leading the flock toward redemption, toward a way that would save us. It was supposed to be a world where the strong got stronger, while the weak were done away with through this purge.

“Those creatures down there created an opportunity. One by which we’d change the world, transforming us into a population of strength and prosperity.

“I created something, I created something.”

Lifting the gun back up toward me, he paused for a moment before cocking his head.

“You’ve got a son, don’t you, John?”

Nodding my head, I didn’t reply with words.

“I wonder what it’s like raising a child in this world. Not a great place to grow up.”

He glanced back over his shoulder. “Plenty of good ways to die out there.”

“Yeah, I suppose there are,” I finally said, almost rhetorically.

“You think he’ll make it without a father, John?”

I didn’t respond, but looked directly at the barrel of the gun. So many things flashed in my mind at that moment. Tyler, Jenn, my childhood home, my parents. I think a person’s mind does that so that they aren’t focused on the inevitable, like a coping mechanism just before death.

The trigger on the gun was nearly audible as I watched Gordon start to squeeze the weapon.

Closing my eyes, my entire body tensed just before the shot rang out. However… I didn’t feel a thing.

Opening my eyes, my mouth dropped as I saw Gordon on the ground, screaming, holding his leg. Spinning around, I saw Kyle, who was propped up on one arm holding his rifle.

Pulling my hammer out, I rushed toward Gordon.

The old man rapidly filled his lungs as he looked up in pain.

I expected him to plead for his life, to try to mind fuck me into letting him live. But he surprised me. Looking from me over to the field, Gordon didn’t say a word as he rose to his knees, overlooking the death and destruction he’d created down below. Maybe he realized this was it. Maybe he knew it was time to pay the ultimate price for his actions.

Shaking his head, as if trying to erase a bad memory, he turned his attention back to me and started to open his mouth to speak when a sound thundered in the distance. I saw the reflection of a shadow in Gordon’s eyes, now wide with fear, as he looked into the sky to try to find the source of the noise.

The sound itself was familiar in a way that took me back to the life we used to live. A noise as out of place as a prostitute soliciting business in church. It simply shouldn’t have been there, yet above us it rang out, echoing in the Yard.

My gaze drawn to the ground, I watched as a cross-shaped image crept across the bloody, death-littered field. Like the Grim Reaper himself, the shadow floated over the Zs and the fallen bodies, flying directly toward the inner walls of Avalon.

None of us said a word as the noise grew louder. We all knew what it was, but none of us knew who it was. For now, it was a distant plane just barely hidden behind the dark clouds.

The shadow of it started to circle to the right just as it hit the Yard, the dark edge of the wing seeming to slice through my hammer which was held to Gordon’s neck. At the peak of its circle, we heard a sliding metal on metal noise, then what looked like a metal box dropped from the sky, causing the clouds to circle in the same way a rock dropped into a calm pond would cause rings of water to spiral outward.

Falling fast at first, its descent was quickly slowed as a large orange and white parachute shot out from the top, causing the box to twist in the wind as it headed downward directly toward the middle of the Yard.

Making eye contact with Gordon, his face told me that he was as confused as I was as the box made contact with the ground. Turning to the right, the box thumped to its side, splashing bloody mud up against one of the nearby cinderblock walls in the Yard.

A number of survivors from the onslaught cautiously circled up around the crate as Mr. Gate stepped forward and used his good hand to pull some sort of red tape off of a seal and slid a two-foot metal lever up and to the left.

Jumping back as the door from the box fell with a splash into the mud, Mr. Gate then stepped forward into the darkness of the box. Emerging a moment later, he held a container in his arms as he dug his nails into the edges of the brown cardboard and tape with the eagerness of a lion on its prey.

Peering into the opening, as if not believing what he saw, he reached in and his hand emerged with a white plastic bag. Giving it a shake, he dropped the rest of the box and tore into the plastic with both hands.

“Crackers! They’re crackers!” he shrieked to the crowd.

Not moving a muscle, I looked down at the dirt with the realization of what that meant.

We weren’t alone. There were others out there.

Shifting my shoulders, I faced Gordon, peering down at him through my eyebrows. In the sunlight coming up through the horizon, I saw an old man kneeling in front of me. Defeated, and lost, his expression just shy of utter despair.

I recalled what the crazy old Stripe had told us in the tree fortress.

They severed the disease like a festering wound.

Maybe New America had. Maybe we were cut off while they had regained order, while they pulled the world back together on the other side of a wall.

Those of us still living amongst the dead were nothing more than an experiment growing in a life-sized petri dish. A rapid example of how quickly we’d all turn on each other without order—without rules—without leadership.

If they were helping now, it wouldn’t be long before we’d be pulled back into the system, their government, their monetary system, their rules, their everything. Perhaps it would go back to normal on the other side. A place where a businessman could do business, sit back in his leather chair daydreaming through meetings. Put up with his boss’s bullshit. Go back to the mundane.

We were here, fighting over NOTHING. Killing over NOTHING. Dying over NOTHING. The man sitting before me was the catalyst of it all.

“You did all this for nothing,” I let slip out.

Gordon couldn’t hurt anybody now. He was broken, and we’d won. The cavalry had shown its face. We’d be on our way out of this, back to civilization.

I knew it. I knew it all, even then.

I could have let him live. I could have killed him. Neither option would have made a bit of difference… to most people.

Gordon knew it was coming. He realized it before I did. His eyes were begging for mercy. Lowering my shoulder, I let my hammer fall from under his chin for just a moment, before I heard someone call to me.

“Do it. End it, John.”

I saw Kyle adjusting himself against the side of the chopper, putting pressure on his chest with his right hand. His voice was low and grave.

“End it, John. He needs to die.”

I once heard that people don’t change. You put them under enough pressure and you find out who they really are. I didn’t realize who I was until I stood there on that rooftop.

I am a killer.

In one swift motion, I stretched the hammer above my shoulders and swung with both hands. Gordon’s head hit the rooftop with a thud, followed by his lifeless body. His eyes were still open, blankly looking up at me, as if surprised I actually did it.

Watching the blood spill out over the concrete, I couldn’t help but think one thing.

A stain. It’s all that’s left of us when we’re gone.

The End

Bonus Content:

To read a letter from Tyler, John’s son, visit this page: www.zombiebook.net/tylersletter

Acknowledgments:

Many of my best friends and family members were subjected to the early drafts of 900 Miles. Whether they read it, commented on it, or were simply a sounding board for me during its creation, I want each of them to know that I really appreciate every second that they spent with me on this journey to publish.

Specifically, I’d like to thank:

Debbie Davis

Phil Davis

Jamie Crosby

Ryan Dunn

Ashley Jones

J. Cornell Michel

Monique Happy

Jenaya Cones

Chad Davis

David Michaud

Finally, I’d like to thank my wife, Laurie Davis. Without her encouragement and support, I would never have sat down to type the first word.

This book would not have come to life without all of you!

THANK YOU!

About the Author

S. Johnathan Davis is an American author, best known for writing apocalyptic horror. He released his first novel, 900 Miles, in January of 2013. In addition to being published in English, Davis’ works have been translated to German and converted to audiobook.

Davis can often be found guest blogging, speaking at events, and participating on podcasts related to the zombie genre. In addition, Davis is an active member of the Horror Writers Association (HWA), a prestigious group of global authors dedicated to all that write and read horror.

Davis resides in Atlanta, GA with his wife and two children.

Website: www.sjohnathandavis.com

Twitter: @900milesbook

Read on for a free sample of Judgment Day: A Zombie Novel

1

For an hour, the last patient of the day had been droning on and on about his abusive father. Dr. Jebediah Stone had heard the depressing tale so many times over the past six months; he could repeat it almost verbatim. Worse yet, the story never varied; a well-rehearsed rationale for the speaker’s abusive behavior. Dr. Stone idly stared out the window at a spotted Gila Woodpecker busily excavating a new hole in the twenty-foot tall saguaro cactus outside his office. The sunshine from a cloudless blue sky and the yellow lantanas blooming like a patch of spring in late November made him wish he could be out there in the fresh air instead of sitting bored in his office.

Thanksgiving was just a few days away and his thoughts turned to the aroma of pumpkin pie, roast turkey and cranberries. Thanksgiving had always been a season of food, friends, family and fellowship for the Stone family. However, this year, events had transpired to place his favorite holiday on the back burner.

“What do you think, Dr. Stone?”

Jeb refocused his attention on his patient, Nelson Sedge. The question was his cue to respond. This time, he decided to vary the dialogue. “I think you need to move on.”

Sedge’s head jerked in his direction at the unexpected answer. “Move on? What do you mean? He abused me.”

“Yes, yes, he beat you. I know. You said yourself you were a wild kid, always in trouble. Do you think your father beat you because he hated you or because he wanted to straighten you out?”

Sedge hesitated, confused by the new focus of the conversation. He had never been grilled before while on the couch and the spotlight made him uncomfortable. “I don’t know.”

Jeb sighed. “Nelson, you’ve told me a dozen times that you’ve forgiven your father; that you want to move on with your life. Why rehash old wounds?”

Sedge squirmed uncomfortably on the leather couch, his ample backside squeaking on the leather upholstery. “I’m impotent and it’s his fault,” he snapped.

“You’re impotent because you’re 150 pounds overweight, have high blood pressure and take seven different pills a day for your supposed mood swings. It’s enough to curtail any man’s sex drive. You don’t need a psychologist. What you need is a gym and a good personal trainer.”

Sedge sneezed without covering his mouth. Jeb winced. Great, all he needed was the flu, especially since his child already had it, and his wife might be coming down with it. Everyone in the whole country seemed to have it, despite the mandatory flu shots.

“You’re supposed to help me,” Sedge said in an accusatory tone.

“You have to want to help yourself. Blaming your father is the easy way out. He might have encouraged your low self-esteem and your quick anger, but he’s dead and you are the only one who can change your life. These past six months I’ve listened to you, and even though I have made my observations time after time, you choose to ignore them because they’re inconvenient. I can’t help that. It’s time to take some responsibility for letting your past control your present.”

Sedge remained silent for a moment before replying harshly, “Maybe, I need a new doctor.”

Jeb sighed again, this time in irritation. He was tired and his head throbbed. Maybe, he was coming down with the flu despite the vaccine, after all. “You might be right. You won’t listen to me and I can’t in good conscience take your money and offer nothing in return.”

“I’ve got plenty of money,” Sedge snapped. “I need help.”

Laying his notepad and pencil aside, Jeb looked at his watch. Since a video recorder captured each session, he seldom took notes, but patients felt reassured by the age-old façade.

“Your time is up, Nelson. I suggest you seek professional help elsewhere. I’ve done all I can for you.”

With some difficulty, Sedge levered himself from the couch, glared at Jeb and said quite huffily, “That is exactly what I’ll do, Doctor. I find your manner quite unprofessional, and I don’t think you care anymore.”

Jeb rose. “You know, you’re right, Nelson. I don’t care. Good day.”

Quickly, he ushered Sedge out the door and shut it behind him. Then, he returned to his desk and leaned against it for a moment, as a dizzy spell swept over him. I should have taken better care of myself. Nursing Karen and Josh has worn me out. He pressed the concealed button shutting off the video recorder, before buzzing Gloria, his receptionist.

“Go on home, Gloria. I’m going to change and drop by the florist. It’s Karen’s birthday. God knows a little color might cheer her up a bit.”

“Send her my love, Dr. S,” she answered.

Jeb smiled at Gloria’s irreverence for the boss/employee relationship. He liked Gloria, because she brooked no nonsense from him or the patients, and she never failed to offer her opinion about his patients, his choice in ties or his refusal to eat fast food.

“I’ll do that, Gloria. Good night.” Just as he turned off the intercom, he heard Gloria’s sneeze come through the closed door and shook his head. Her too?

Changing out of his suit coat and tie was almost more than he could handle. He fumbled with the buttons of his shirt, finally yanking it off over his head. Thank God, it’s Friday. I need a break. Finally, dressed in a pair of worn jeans and a faded t-shirt, he felt less the doctor and more the human being. Absentmindedly, he rubbed the belly of the brass Buddha sitting on his desk for luck, a reminder of his and Karen’s vacation to China seven years earlier. His constant daily rubbing had removed the dull patina that covered the rest of the smiling statue, making the prominent belly shine. Gloria, a devout Christian, always chided him for what she called a ‘heathen idol’, but to him it was a simple reminder of better times.

As Jeb drove west along Ina Road from his Catalina Foothills office, he was surprised at how light the traffic was. The Catalina Mountains formed a spectacular barricade to Tucson’s northern growth, rising majestically to a height of almost 10,000 feet. In stark contrast to the warm late fall day below, snow blanketed the piney slopes of Mt. Lemmon. The major east-west conduit on the city’s north side was usually crowded. People were beginning to panic and stay home. Not that he could blame them. Nearly six thousand people in the U.S. had died of the Avian Flu in the past month, and over fifty thousand in Asia where it had originated. It wasn’t just the old and young succumbing to the ravages of the fever anymore. Men and women, hale and hardy, were beginning to drop like flies.

“Damn,” he muttered, as he noticed an ambulance rapidly overtaking him in his rear view mirror, lights flashing and siren wailing. He dutifully pulled over to the side of the road. As its siren grew louder, he saw there were three ambulances, followed closely by as many police cars. They shot past him, turned north onto Oracle Road and raced toward the already overflowing medical center on Tangerine Road. Seeing the ambulance convoy reminded him of Karen and Josh. A feeling of anxiety swept over him. Forgoing his idea of flowers, he pulled back into the street and followed the ambulances toward Oro valley.

His home, a four-bedroom, Pueblo-style house near the western foot of the Catalinas, sat on a private five-acre lot atop a narrow ridge jutting into Alamo Canyon facing Pusch Ridge. As he waited for the gate to open, a second convoy, this once comprised of army trucks and jeeps, rolled northward along Oracle Road. He wondered just what was happening. Was the flu epidemic spreading? Why was the military involved? His heart sank when he saw the silver Lexus of his friend, Doctor Benjamin Reynolds, parked in the drive. He didn’t bother with the garage. He pulled his Hyundai beside Reynolds’ car and rushed inside.

His wife was waiting for him in the entry. Her disheveled appearance and worried expression filled him with trepidation. Karen, a former Miss Arizona, took great pride in her appearance and was usually very calm and collected. She rushed to him and threw her arms around his neck sobbing into his chest.

“Oh, Jeb. It’s Josh. He had a violent fit. I called Ben. He’s with Josh now.”

Jeb lifted her face and looked into her emerald green eyes, red-rimmed from crying. “What happened?”

She shook her head and sniffled. “I don’t know. Today Josh felt so bad he didn’t want to get out of bed. I went in about an hour ago to check on him and he was white as a ghost, moaning and thrashing about on the bed. I tried to calm him down, but couldn’t. Thank God, Ben was home.”

Jeb nodded. Ben Reynolds, like most doctors now, had closed their offices, overwhelmed by the flood of sick patients. Most now worked at the hospitals, clinics and emergency medical centers hastily constructed by FEMA, such as the one a few miles away in Avra Valley near the Marana airport.

“He’ll be fine, Hon,” Jeb said to reassure her, though his own heart was heavy with worry. “He’s young and strong, and Ben is one of the best. Besides, we’ve all had our flu shots.” He forced a smile to his lips.

Reynolds was sitting in the living room, his face covered with both hands and his shoulders slumped. He looked up at Jeb and nodded a greeting. His tired blue eyes and worried expression made him look ten years older than his fifty-five years.

“How is he, Ben?” Jeb asked.

Reynolds sighed. “It’s difficult to say, Jeb. He has a high fever and flu-like symptoms, but it doesn’t seem to be the same flu that’s going around.” Reynolds was almost as tall as Jeb and thin, but his deep voice and slow Southern drawl inspired confidence in his patients. This time, however, he sounded uncertain. He shook his head slowly. “Almost everyone has something.”

Jeb let out his pent up breath. He had expected worse news. “What do we do?”

“I gave him a sedative so he can rest and I left some antibiotics on his nightstand. We’ll try those first and see if his condition improves.”

Karen walked up behind her husband and grasped his arm. She wasn’t convinced. “An antibiotic? That’s all? He was writhing around on the bed as if he had an epileptic seizure or something. Shouldn’t we take him to the hospital?”

“No,” Reynold’s answered quickly. “There’s no room in the hospitals and he wouldn’t receive the care he needs. They’re simply overwhelmed by the number of sick.”

“What about that new center in Avra Valley?” she asked.

The dark look in Reynolds’ eyes at the mention of the FEMA camp startled Jeb. “No. I’ll drop back by soon. Believe me, Karen; he’ll be better off here.”

His wife still didn’t look convinced, but she nodded and rushed off to Josh’s room.

“You look done in, Ben,” Jeb said. “Want some coffee?”

His smile revealed a little of the Benjamin Reynolds that Jeb remembered. “Got anything stronger?”

“Scotch, right? I could do with a glass myself.”

Jeb went to the bar, poured two fingers of Glenfiddich into two tumblers, added ice and handed one to Reynolds.

“Now, what was it you didn’t want Karen to know?”

Reynolds frowned, took a sip of scotch and sighed. He stared into the depths of the cold fireplace for a moment as if studying invisible flames. “I’m frightened, Jeb. Josh isn’t the first case I’ve seen like this. There are a dozen more at Oro Valley.” He waited a few seconds before continuing. “They’re lying to us, Jeb.”

“Who’s lying?”

“The Feds, the CDC, FEMA—all of them.”

Jeb took a seat beside Reynolds. “What do you mean?”

Reynolds looked at him. “How many have died so far, Jeb?”

Jeb wrinkled his brow, wondering where Reynolds was going with this. “In America? Six thousand last count. Why?”

Reynolds shook his head. “It’s closer to sixty thousand, probably much higher. FEMA is afraid if they release the actual count, there’ll be a panic, and they could be right. The new vaccine is next to useless. So far, they’ve discovered five active strains of the Avian influenza type A virus. We’re beginning to see widespread antigenic shift. I’m worried, Jeb. Have you seen the new emergency center in Marana, near the airport?” Jeb hadn’t, but Reynolds didn’t give him time to reply. “Why would they need to enclose it in a ten-foot fence topped with razor wire? It has hundreds of FEMA trailers inside and an army outpost outside. I think the President is close to declaring Martial Law.”

Jeb was flabbergasted at Reynolds’ suggestion. “Martial Law? That’s ridiculous. That would create a panic in itself. Just look at the flack he got over the mandatory flu shots. The press crucified him.” He looked at Reynolds and cocked his head to one side. “There’s something else you’re not telling me.”

Reynolds’ nodded, downed the rest of his drink and leaned back wearily on the sofa. “Jeb, this started in southern Asia. As of yesterday, Vietnam and Laos are at war over the flood of refugees. Thailand is threatening to attack Myanmar. Estimates are about six million dead from disease and famine alone, but communication from Asia is spotty at best. China is strangely silent about the entire epidemic. Europe has closed down all major airports.”

Jeb took a sip of his drink. The burning liquor did not dissolve the lump of fear that had been forming in his throat as he listened to his friend. “I’ve heard nothing of this on the news.”

“You won’t. Try going on-line and checking YouTube or a few blogs. Some of the clips I’ve seen are horrendous.” He shook his head sadly. “This pandemic is getting away from us, Jeb.”

Jeb placed a hand on Reynolds’ shoulder. “The CDC will come up with something soon. They usually do.”

Reynolds looked up from his empty glass. “If they do, it will be too little too late. To keep order, they will issue the vaccine to the military first. By the time it trickles down to the population of small cities and towns, millions could be dead.”

“Millions,” Jeb repeated. The thought of an apocalyptic event occurring in his lifetime had never crossed his mind. His mind couldn’t comprehend the idea of millions of Americans dying. A sickening feeling brought him back to reality. “Josh?”

“I honestly don’t know. If he makes it through the next couple of days, I think he’ll pull through.” Reynold’s pushed himself from the sofa and stood, holding onto the sofa arm until his wobbly legs steadied. “I have to go, Jeb. People need me. Thanks for the drink.”

“You could use some rest, Ben.”

Reynolds chuckled. “I’ll rest when I’m dead.”

Jeb looked at his old friend’s tired face and hoped that time didn’t come too soon. “There’s something you’re not telling me, isn’t there.”

Reynolds sighed. “It’s just rumors, mind you, nothing definite.”

Jeb mentally braced himself for more bad news. “What?”

“There have been reports of hospitals back east being sealed off, no one in or out. The military has a very strong presence in urban areas.”

Jeb wondered if Reynolds was worrying too much about rumors. “The military might be needed to keep order in case of riots. As you said, people panic.”

“Maybe, but I still think it’s troubling. The free exchange of medical knowledge is vital in an epidemic of this magnitude. Too many medical personnel have disappeared.”

Jeb took another sip of his drink and swirled the ice cubes with his finger. “Disappeared?”

“Taken from their homes or hospitals by the military, sometimes in the middle of the night.”

“For what earthly reason would the military need…” He stopped as the implications hit home.

Reynolds nodded grimly. “So you’re beginning to understand. The military believes this disease will break down the country’s infrastructure. Maybe, they even think we’ve been attacked.”

Jeb was incredulous. “Attacked? A man-made virus? From whom—Al Quaeda?”

Reynolds shrugged. “I don’t think so, but it is mutating at an alarming rate. It doesn’t seem… natural.” He waved his empty glass around to indicate the house. “You’ve got a good set up here, Jeb—solar panels, a generator, an eight-foot high stone wall with a wrought-iron gate, steep bluffs on three sides. If I were you, I would think about a long-term water supply.” Reynolds set the empty glass on the coffee table. “I’ll drop back by in the morning.” He sighed. “Looks like no Thanksgiving dinner this year, I suppose.”

Jeb nodded. “I’m afraid so. I don’t think Karen…” He paused and started over. “I don’t think it would be a good idea.”

Reynolds shook his head sadly. “Too bad. I enjoyed your little get-togethers immensely.”

As Jeb ushered Reynolds out the door, the full weight of the doctor’s earlier words fell on him. If things got as bad as Reynolds predicted, then he needed to prepare for the worst eventuality. He was no survivalist, but he did have a hunting rifle and a pistol that had belonged to his father, who had tried in vain to interest him in hunting white-tailed deer in Mexico. Jeb had accompanied his father on several trips, but usually spent more time enjoying the scenery than hunting, much to his father’s dismay. Jeb had a lot of faith in man’s inherent compassionate nature, maybe more than Reynolds did, but panic brought out the worst in people. He owed it to his family to be prepared. Like a 32-year old Boy Scout, he thought glumly.

As soon as possible, he would need to make a trip to one of the food warehouse stores for bulk food items, canned goods, first aid supplies, bottled water and anything else he could think of that they might possibly need if things went to hell in a hurry. The generator ran on the same propane tank as the outdoor grill. A larger tank, maybe even an extra one, might be expedient. First, he needed to check in on Josh.

Josh, six-years old and small for his age, looked frail and pathetic lying in the middle of his bed with a sheet secured across his chest to keep him from thrashing about and hurting himself. The Superman sheets covering his bed were incongruously incapable of protecting him from the evil attacking him. Sweat from the fever had his curly black locks plastered to his forehead. His chest heaved irregularly, as his tiny beleaguered lungs labored for each breath. His clenched fists thrust from his side as if fighting an invisible enemy. Kneeling beside the bed, Karen was sobbing and she had one hand laid over their son’s clenched fist. Jeb went to her and rested his hand on the top of her head.

“He’ll be fine,” he said, averting his eyes from his ill son, trying to make the words sound believable.

“He looks so sad,” she replied. “He was always a rambunctious child.”

Jeb nodded silently, as he remembered the first broken bone Josh had from falling out of the lemon tree in the back yard, and his numerous cuts and bruises from trying to keep up with the bigger kids in school. He had never let his size slow him down. But now…

“Let him sleep. We need to talk.”

Karen looked up at him with concern, but followed him out of the bedroom. In the kitchen, he saw Karen had not started dinner, but he understood why. He could make a sandwich or order out for both of them, if anyone was still delivering take-out. While he started the coffee brewer perking, she sat at the island.

“Ben says things are worse than the authorities are letting on.”

Karen’s grip on the granite counter top tightened, her fingers turning white from the pressure. “What do you mean?”

He leaned on the island across from her. “More people are dying than they’re saying. If it gets worse, it could mean a disruption in services.”

“You mean electricity?” she asked.

“Maybe. Maybe more. I think I should run pick up a few things—just in case,” he added, when he saw her eyes widen in fright.

Karen eyed him suspiciously, but dipped her head in a quick nod. “If you think you should. I have to stay here.”

“I know. I’ll be back as soon as I can. Have you eaten?”

She shook her head. “No, but I’m not hungry. I don’t think I can eat.”

He had expected as much. Karen had no appetite when she was nervous and she was nearly in a panic now. He wished he could say something reassuring, tell her it was all going to be all right, but he knew it would sound like a psychiatrist’s platitude. Reynolds’ revelations had frightened him deeply. “I’ll grab something while I’m out.”

She reached a hand across the island. “Fast food? You hate fast food. Jeb, you’re really frightening me now.”

He laid his hand on top of hers and squeezed gently. “Now, Hon, I may be jumping at shadows, but Ben started me thinking. We don’t need to be grocery shopping every week. We’ve been vaccinated, but who knows what germs are out there. Better safe than sorry.”

She nodded again. “Okay. Hurry back.”

“Lickety split,” he said, smiling.

* * *

Later, as he unloaded the cases of canned goods, toilet paper, bags of rice and fresh vegetables in the garage, Jeb eyed his purchases with some amusement. He had not been the only person with volume shopping on the mind. The store had been packed, like Macy’s on a Black Friday. His favorite sodas were out of stock, as was his brand of coffee. He took what he could get and then had grabbed extra. He had paid for it all with his credit card, a staggering two thousand dollars, and that did not include the extra propane tank, which he had arranged for delivery.

The fresh vegetables had been a last minute purchase, as had the cases of glass jars and a seven-quart pressure cooker. Karen had canned fresh picked apples and peaches when they were first married. Starting out, they were often broke, relying on canned goods and cheap meals from fast food restaurants, which was his reason for avoiding them now. A supply of freshly canned vegetables might once again come in handy. He had also purchased cases of various brands of cigarettes and liquors. The scotch was for him, but the rest might serve as trade goods or bribes if things got worse. He had watched enough end-of-the-world movies to know that vices didn’t end with civilization. Even if money became worthless paper, cigarettes and alcohol were worth their weight in gold.

By the time, the last goods were unloaded from the Explorer and neatly stacked against the wall, Jeb was exhausted. Fighting the crazed mob had given him a taste of how bad things might become. His expected one-hour trip had turned into a three-hour sortie. He wanted nothing more than to kick back to watch a little television, but he was worried about Josh. Maybe he would spell Karen and let her rest. She was on the edge.

It was dark when he entered the house, which disturbed him, because Karen always left too many lights on. She did not attempt to keep their electricity bill under control.

“Karen,” he called out. When he received no answer, he went straight to Josh’s room, thinking to find her there. To his surprise, Josh’s bed was empty, and the covers thrown off the bed. His heart began jack hammering his chest. In a panic, he raced room to room through the house, finding each one empty. In the kitchen, a hastily scribbled note on the island caught his attention. He picked it up and read.

“Josh worse. Stopped breathing. Couldn’t reach Ben. Taking Josh to Oro Valley. Come soon.”

Jeb read the note two times, the words dancing on the page as his hands shook. Stopped breathing? My God! He threw the note on the floor and looked out front. He hadn’t even noticed earlier, but the Hyundai was gone. Reynolds’ words popped into his mind about sealing hospitals. He rushed to the garage and cranked the Explorer. At the end of the drive, he pounded on the steering wheel, impatiently waiting for the gate to slide open. Then he wheeled recklessly onto Oracle, bouncing off the median curb. The medical center parking lot was full, with autos parked haphazardly along the side of the road. He spun into the emergency entrance and leaped out. A guard attempted to stop him, but Jeb brushed by him and confronted a harried-looking nurse just inside the door wearing a sterile mask.

“My wife and child just came in a short while ago, Karen and Josh Stone. He’s about six. He was unconscious.”

The nurse looked up at him from her clipboard. Her eyes above the mask looked weary and overwhelmed. “I’ve got a hundred and fifty patients waiting to see a physician. I don’t know who they are.”

Frustrated, he brushed her aside and began calling his wife’s name.

“Karen!”

A few heads turned his direction, but most were too engrossed with their own problems to pay much attention to one more frantic sick person. Many of them wore masks over their nose and mouth. A few distraught mothers held coughing children. The sight only quickened his fear.

“Karen!” he repeated.

He spotted two guards approaching and ducked through the double doors into the treatment area, ignoring the nurse’s warning. “You can’t go in there.” He looked around, but saw no sign of either Josh or Karen. What he did see sent cold chills racing through him. Sheets covered at least two dozen dead bodies on gurneys pushed up against the walls of the corridor of the makeshift morgue. As he stood there in shock, he felt hands tighten on his arm. He glanced at the two guards flanking him. Each wore disposable masks over their mouth and nose.

“My wife and son,” he said numbly.

One of the guards looked at him with obvious sympathy and said, “Anyone coming here in the last few hours has been sent directly to the FEMA camp in Marana. We’re way past capacity.” He looked around and leaned closer. “There’s talk of transferring most of the worst cases to Marana soon.”

Jeb’s initial resolve to storm through the hospital searching for his family dissolved. He knew he wouldn’t find them here. He stared at the corpses, nodded meekly, and allowed the guards to escort him back outside. Trying to decide what to do, he sat in his truck for a few minutes. As he sat there, two canvas-covered, five-ton army trucks pulled up. A captain jumped down from the cab of one and spoke briefly to the guards. The guard who had confided to Jeb, glanced in his direction, and shook his head slowly. Taking it as a warning, Jeb pulled out of the drive slowly and headed towards Marana. He only hoped he wasn’t too late.

Judgment Day is available from Amazon here