Post-Apocalyptic

The Fast and the Dead - Day 14

The pounding and rocking of the car brought him back, dazed, from unconsciousness. The first thing that his mind seized on was the fine powder over everything. He stared uncomprehendingly at the deflated airbag in front of him. A loud bang to his left grabbed him, and he nearly jumped out of his skin at the sight of yellowing, putrid-looking eyes in a gooey, rot-darkened face staring at him through the glass.

Reacting purely on adrenaline, he slammed his foot on the gas pedal; the car was halfway through the bent and buckled garage door, almost to the dealership’s back alley parking area. With a screech of metal that would’ve woken the dead, had they not already awakened, he jolted the car free of the door and turned sharply to point toward the road. Behind him followed not one but a half dozen of the things, pouring into the light of the late afternoon to join the beginnings of a crowd as the engine’s roar and crashing exit from the bay drew the attention of zombies slowly making their way to the main body of the horde.

Beside him Claire began to stir to consciousness. He looked up the path ahead; there were only a handful coming their way off the street and into the lot. He hit the gas again, less energetically; working cars weren’t a dime a dozen these days.

“Up inland, or down to the water?” He was pretty sure that’s what he said, but his head was still a touch fuzzy from the impact.

“Boat. Try for a boat. With a car we can try to leave the city if we can’t find anything.” Her voice was a little thick; she was still clearing her head too, apparently.

She was right; the inhabited, semi-normal part of the city amounted to little more than 4 square blocks of the downtown core. People crammed into the tallest buildings that over the years had been painstakingly fortified and turned into living spaces. There were even rooftop gardens extending across the city for blocks around the core; fertile soil was the second-most most valuable commodity that existed in the city. Those gardens, with the aid of hydroponics, were enough to keep people fed.

Clean water was the first. Not a lot could be spared for the purpose of hydroponics. It had too many uses. “Water it is then.”

He neither slowed nor stopped for the zombies as they got in the way of the newest source of noise in the area; he avoided them if he could, but if he couldn’t, he left them broken in his wake.

The first couple of minutes were tense and quiet. The sheer number of them was staggering. They couldn’t hear the commotion over the sound of the car, even after they opened the windows, but every walker they passed was headed in the same direction, toward the monstrous horde.

“I’ve never seen anything this big before.” Those they passed were turning to the car, but they sped past as quickly as they could; Ben didn’t check to see if they kept following them or turned back to their interrupted journey.

They were getting closer to the city center and the going was getting slower. Even at the farthest outskirts of the city toward what used to be suburbia the roads weren’t exactly clear. This close to the center of the chaos of the end, they had to go slowly to drive around wrecks, avoid fallen street lights, power poles or other debris, sometimes even turn aside entirely to find different, unblocked routes. There were plenty of routes that were intentionally blocked to prevent or at least slow down exactly the sort of giant cluster they were leaving behind them.

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The Fast and the Dead - Day 13

A low, hungry moan told screamed at him that time was up. They ran to the nearest car, a midrange sedan that would’ve been entirely uninspiring in the old world but now inspired visions of solid metal and glass between them and oncoming death.

The doors were unlocked; they scrambled in. Hands shaking, Ben tried each key in the ignition in turn as shadows began to move in the murky darkness behind them.

“The doors! The doors are closed!”

“Do YOU want to get out and open them?” He asked, finally slotting the key in and turning it. Mercifully, the engine started; it was loud, very loud, especially by the standards of the time immediately pre-fall. “Why couldn’t this have been an electric? Even a hybrid?”

He jammed it into reverse and backed further into the room. A solid, meaty thump told him all he wanted to know about how close they were. Claire locked her door; there’d never been a known instance of a zombie being able to open a door that didn’t swing freely, but this would be a lousy time to learn they were more capable than people assumed.

Slow pounding began on the back of the car as Ben stopped and put it in drive. Claire snapped her seatbelt in, staring at the large doors ahead. Ben took a deep breath. “This is really gonna suck,” he said, then jammed his foot on the gas.

The car started forward, and as he’d feared, it wasn’t a roaring burst of acceleration. They slammed into the door with enough force to break through, but the impact triggered the front airbags.

Everything went black.

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The Fast and the Dead - Day 12

The building was two storeys tall; they descended to ground-level, eyes and especially ears alert for any sign of something out of place. They moved as quietly as they could, but Ben’s ankle was bad enough to hobble him somewhat. He ignored it as best he could; they should be so lucky as to find a place safe enough for a bad ankle to be a cause of major concern.

They landed in a short L-shaped hallway in what looked like the administrative area. “The showroom must be toward the front of the building.” Claire’s voice was a breathy whisper he had to strain to hear, and it was a good thing he did; Ben heard a soft thump coming from somewhere ahead of them, deeper into the administrative offices. He grabbed her arm, eyes wide in the gloom.

“Hold up,” he whispered just as low. Together they held still as statues.

-thump- -drag- -thump-

A block of ice quickly grew in Ben’s gut. As one, they walked as quickly and quietly as they could. They couldn’t hide; they had nothing to destroy it with. They had to get out.

They rounded the corner and saw the showroom ahead, but a sign dragged Ben’s eyes to attention. “Service bay,” he whispered. He hesitated at the door, then quickly pulled it open. It was creaky enough to make him cringe, certain the whole mass of them outside were about to descend on them in moments, but they plowed through. A quick stop and listen turned up nothing. He was sure the one in the offices was still on its way, but they’d gained enough distance that they couldn’t hear it, or any others that might be in the area.

Claire was checking out the service area. It was a large, multi-bay room with space for 4 cars, and two of the bays were occupied. No doubt the owners had been too busy or too dead to return for their vehicles. Their loss is our gain, Ben thought, not to mention our lives.

He looked over at the two cars in the bays. “We’ll take one of these. We’ll have to hope whatever they were in for was fixed, but they should have gas at least.”

“How’re we going to get the keys?”

He looked her over again; it was hard to tell in the semi-dark, but she could’ve been young enough that she couldn’t legally drive a decade before, when the end came. He shot a glance at the service window and limped closer. Sure enough, there was a key rack back there, with labeled keys still hanging, waiting for owners who no longer cared about cars.

-thump- -drag- -thump-

Ben froze, and Claire’s expression hardened. He wasn’t sure which way the sound was coming from. He ducked behind the counter and grabbed both sets of keys rather than wait to find out. He rejoined her, and they crowded to the service bay doors with their windows to try and read anything on the keys that would identify the cars.

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The Fast and the Dead - Day 11

They lucked out about as much as you can when every street around you is flooded with an ever-increasing number of hungry zombies. The roofs were linked and the block was fairly large, with only some narrow alleys between a few of the buildings. They were able to remain safely out of reach while scouting the area and had made it just over halfway around the block when Claire’s eyes widened in recognition.

“What is it?” Ben asked.

“Bikes. I saw that shop across the street a few weeks ago, I recognize the sign. A … ‘contestant’ like us was trying to get into this building we’re standing on.”

“What good are bikes going to do us? The streets are thick with the dead, if we try to ride through them we’re toast, no matter how fast we’re going.”

“Not if they have some of the latest enclosed models.”

Enclosed motorcycles had been one of the last innovations in bike technology before the fall. They were self-balancing, fully enclosed and almost like 2-wheeled car in most respects.

Ben frowned, but more out of thoughtfulness than disapproval. “There’s no guarantee there will be any in there.”

“No, but I’m fresh out of other ideas. Besides, even if there aren’t, all the commotion is on the other side of the block. The crowd isn’t as heavy here.”

Ben was about to object on the basis of gaining access to the building when he stopped, the objection cut short by the sight of a door leading inward. “At least getting back indoors will be easier than it was to get out.” He nodded toward the door; Claire visibly brightened with the relief that brought her.

He checked the door; unlocked. “Let’s find our way down quick. I’d like to get out again as quick as possible.”

“No argument here.”

They moved quietly down the stairs to the interior of the building, tense and alert. Ben wished they knew if the building had been closed off or not. If it had, there was little chance they’d be bothered by the things in the street, but there could be some risen inside and trapped. He’d seen that played out just enough times on the shows over the years to make him jumpy.

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The Fast and the Dead - Day 10

They were out of immediate danger, but it didn’t feel as reassuring as he’d expected. The streets in all directions were crawling with more and more of them as slower ones caught up to the mass, and faster ones from farther out began arriving.

“I’ve never seen so many at once, not even on TV,” he said with a shiver. “I don’t know where we’re going to be going from here.”

“Clarissa Backhus.”

“What?” He blinked his confusion.

“My name. Call me Claire.” She was studiously avoiding looking at the sea of figures below.

“Oh. Right. I’m Ben. Ben Neales.” She was a bit younger than him, and he was in his early 30s. She looked older. Everyone who got tossed in here did; there’s nothing like the stress of being hunted by a city’s worth of zombies to add a few years. He wondered how he looked now; he must be a sorry sight for anyone watching on TV.

Cameras were scattered around most of the city, though it was hard to tell where they were most of the time. Before the fall, cameras had gotten really tiny so you never really knew these days. Once in a while you’d see larger, older models, but just cause they weren’t there didn’t mean there weren’t newer, smaller ones.

Watching people who’d been thrown in was a guilty secret for most people in the region, at least those who had the power to run a TV or knew someone who did. Nobody liked to admit they watched, but they did it anyway.

“Nice to meet you, Ben.” She laughed. “Nice to meet anyone who’s not dead on his feet.”

“I’m not sure I’d go that far. I am pretty wiped out.” He smiled; today of all days it was good to have something to smile about. “So Claire, any ideas on where to go from here?”

“Look around, I guess. Get our bearings. This place looks familiar, or it did from the ground. The Winchester, it’s called. I think I’ve seen … others … other survivors make it to this area before.”

He nodded. He was tempted to ask what she’d done to get thrown in here, but he didn’t really have to. It didn’t really matter. After governments had collapsed, everything fell to chaos, and unless you knew the right people in the right positions these days, there was pretty much just one punishment for any conceivable crime, real or imaginary. Exile into the wastes, entertainment for the remaining masses.

He’d never seen anyone get away, but there were stories that came and went of people thrown out who made it to other cities. He supposed it was possible. If you could make it out far enough from the cities, there were fewer zombies, but also fewer people who could help you out. It’d be difficult. Extremely difficult. He had to believe it was possible though.

“I was thinking of heading down to the water. Find a boat. Get away that way. It’ll be tough, but maybe it’ll be a bit easier together.”

Claire nodded. “You had me at ‘away.’”

The Fast and the Dead - Day 9

The roof had a bit of an overhang, and they’d just reached it. This was the part he’d been dreading. He closed his eyes, gritted his teeth, held on desperately to a handhold no deeper than a fingertip with his left hand and reached up and back with his right, hooking the overhang.

She watched this, mouth hanging open, eyes wide. “You’re crazy. I can’t do that. I’ll fall off.”

“You’ll fall off eventually if you stay there, too.” Speaking was an effort; his teeth were still clenched as he tried to work up the strength to force his fingers off the handhold and onto the overhang. His arms were losing strength fast.

He saw her glance down where the ravening horde awaited, their moans filling the air. She somehow managed to turn paler. She closed her eyes, just as he had, dug in with one hand and snagged the overhang with the other. Rather than stopping there though, she let go and had the roof with both hands, and was up before he could say a word.

He was about to try to duplicate her feat when her hand clamped around his wrist. “C’mon!” she called. His fingers let go his handhold almost without his conscious control and he grabbed for the overhang.

With her help, he managed to get himself topside. “That’s two times you’ve saved me,” he panted.

“And you’ve saved me once. Let’s not bother counting, huh? Our competition is against those things, not each other.”

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