Decay: Civilization Part 7

Tommy charged hard into the group, knocking everyone back like bowling pins. Deacon followed close behind. Together they picked Kathrine up from the parking lot and started toward the truck. Through all the blood and dirt on her face, Deacon could see that her left eye was swollen shut and her nose was busted wide open.

As they reached the truck, Tommy yelled out in pain. A woman had latched onto his leg and bite deep into his calf. Deacon helped Kathrine up into the truck and turned around to help Tommy. He stomped on the woman's neck, and just when she let go another woman grabbed ahold of Tommy. This one scratched at his face while chewing the skin off his arm.

"Get in the truck!" yelled Tommy. "I'll hold them off. You get Kathrine the h.e.l.l outta here."

"I can't leave you behind, Tommy." Deacon ran back to the truck and grabbed the red fire axe, as he returned he swung it hard into the second woman's back. She seemed to be unfazed, so Deacon swung again and again. Tommy was able to knock her off, and Deacon used this opportunity to chop into the woman until his arms were sore. In the end, her head was nothing more than a mushy pile.

Tommy wasn't there when Deacon turned back to him. In his place stood several others, and before Deacon had a chance to move they were all over him. He cowered down, not sure what to do. Pulling his thick coat over him, Deacon lay on the concrete. The men and woman around him punched, kicked, and scratched at him in an attempt to rip him apart, yet his bunker gear was far too thick.

Strong arms wrapped around him, lifting him up off the parking lot. Deacon was sure this was it for him. His body was flung over his attackers shoulders, and he realized that he was not being attacked. He peeked out of his coat to see that he was being carried to the truck by Tommy.

Most of Tommy's face was covered in blood. He was missing most of his left ear, and a chunk of his neck had been torn open. Blood spewed from the gash. "Get in the truck, and this time shut the h.e.l.l up. Get in!" Tommy yelled at Deacon as he threw him up onto the driver's seat.

Deacon finally was able to take a good look at his friend. Two of the fingers on Tommy's right hand were broken, both of which were bent to the side and dark purple in color, and the right side of his face was just as bad as the left. Even as Tommy stood there he was being attacked. The strong man held back the rus.h.i.+ng crowd as Deacon started the truck.

"Hop in Tommy!" Deacon said through the window. "We're ready to move." He looked down at Tommy, who made eye contact one last time before pus.h.i.+ng his way through the violent crowd. "TOMMY!" But it was too late. Tommy only made it ten yards before being dragged to the ground.

Looking back to Kathrine, whose pale skin made her look terribly sick, Deacon knew he had to leave. He now had only the hope that he could save at least one of his friends. He would take Kathrine to a hospital in the next town over. Backing the large truck up was difficult with the amount of cars in the way. The occasional b.u.mp in the street turned out to be a person who failed to step aside for the fire truck.

After successfully backing out of the hospital parking lot, Deacon saw that the destruction was happening exponentially. In the short amount of time they were there, the chaos had spread like a California wildfire. Deacon decided that he would slow down for n.o.body. After what he just witnessed, he knew there was no hope for anyone running around the streets anyway.

A man reached up from the back seat and grabbed Deacon's hair. He raised his right arm and blocked the attack with his heavy coat. Kathrine punched at the man weakly in an attempt to help, but she had no effect on him other than drawing his attention.

The man turned to Kathrine, his busted wire framed gla.s.ses just barely holding on. Deacon struggled to maintain control of the vehicle as he tried to pry the man away from her. Pulling hard on the man's red University of Southern California s.h.i.+rt, Deacon realized he was losing this fight. He propped his knee under the steering wheel and reached both hands around the man's waist.

By the time Deacon finally pulled the man way from Kathrine it was too late to regain control of the truck. The thirty-five thousand pound truck collided with a large palm tree. It was only moving at forty miles per hour, but the amount of momentum caused the front to collapse a split second before the palm tree snapped and fell slowly to the ground.

Deacon's vision was blurred as his head throbbed. He knew he could have only been there for a moment, yet it felt like he had the worst hangover of his life. In a daze, he stepped out of the truck and fell to the street where he threw up the small amount of liquid that was in his stomach.

As the dizzy spell pa.s.sed, he stood and walked back to the truck to find Kathrine. Climbing in the driver's side first he saw the man crushed between the dash and broken winds.h.i.+eld. His body twitched and jerked as if he was trying to free himself. It's only nerves, Deacon thought.

Before climbing back out he grabbed the axe from under the twitching dead man. Making his way around the truck he checked the street around him. For the most part it was empty. He could see what appeared to be a woman eating the remains of a child on the sidewalk. I must being seeing things. After climbing over the trunk of the downed palm tree he noticed that the pa.s.senger door was wide open.

"Kathrine!" he yelled as he ran to the open door. "Kathrine! Can you hear me?" He didn't receive a response. KATHRINE!" he screamed it this time. All sound stopped. The distant rustling of feet and pained moans dissipated. Then Deacon realized that everyone within sight of him was watching him with curiosity, and then they moved toward him.

Chapter 11.

"I never saw Kathrine after that. Those d.a.m.ned people chased after me the whole way back to the fire house. I managed to hide out there for a while, at least until things settled in a bit and I ran out of food. If only we had paid more attention to the reports. I initially thought it was just a bunch of drug addicts attackin' everybody. After all, they get doped up on a pharmacy list of drugs and they'll eat your d.a.m.n face or arms off," he said before putting the piece of rabbit back onto his plate and pus.h.i.+ng it aside.

After filling up on the freshly cooked meat and the vegetables that Guillermo had brought, they began to plan their group's move to the attic. Bradley and Roger would head back for Emalynn and the children, and Guillermo would stay and scout further south. When they made it back with the children they would eat and sleep. In the morning they would move along.

Guillermo set out first, shaking Bradley's hand before parting ways. He moved to the south. Movement was much quicker now. He had been moving around on his own for a while. From here on out it was only houses. Yard after yard, Guillermo moved along quietly.

Although he checked the yard before dropping down from the wall, the fiend came from out of nowhere. The hand grabbed his s.h.i.+rt, causing him to spin around, losing his balance, and landing on his back. He kicked into the fiend's stomach with all his strength. The dead man fell to the ground with his thick stomach contents oozing from his mouth, but he was soon back to his feet.

Guillermo retrieved his blade from his pack and swung at the man, slicing through his fingers, which did nothing to slow him down. He continued his relentless pursuit. Guillermo kept swinging until the swinging turned to chopping. Both of the man's mutilated arms flopped down in front of him like short fat snakes in tall gra.s.s. As the fiend came closer the chops started landing in his face. Even after he lay in the gra.s.s no longer moving, Guillermo continued to chop into his head.

He took a moment to rest against the wall. He wasn't entirely sure where he was, but he knew he had made it quite a ways from the attic Deacon lived in. The sun was high overhead, making it hard to determine direction. He knew visibility would be at its best right now, however, and he knew his way around this area well once he had his bearings back.

Climbing back to his feet, he continued to the end of the yard. The wall around the yard was roughly five feet tall. Guillermo easily lifted himself up with his strong arms and looked at the street on the other side.

Fiends were moving around all over. He wasn't sure what the best plan would be from here. He walked to the wall facing into the next yard and peeked over it. This yard was empty, so he pulled himself over and dropped down gently into the soft gra.s.s. He continued to make his way through the yard, thinking to himself how easy it will be to move from yard to yard behind the wall.

As he approached the end of the house on his way through the yard three fiends stood there facing the other direction. Guillermo stopped and backed up against the house. A fourth fiend came out of the door behind him and grabbed his arm.

Guillermo spun around to face the fiend and jumped back. The short girl was missing her right eye and her lips were gone. Left in their place was gruesome teeth marks and bits of hanging flesh. She couldn't have been more than thirteen when she was killed. Her eye probably gouged out while a close friend or family member chewed her lips off.

The blade cut through the dead flesh on the fiend's arm, slicing clean through the bone. He let out a low grunt as he plunged the blade deep into her good eye. Her body instantly fell lifeless to the concrete-tile patio, which was enough to alert the others to his presence.

Instead of fighting the remaining three, Guillermo decided it would be best to just make a run for the wall and hop into the next yard. He jumped hard, grabbing the top of the wall and propelling himself over.

Unfortunately, he came down into a filthy swimming pool. The water tasted putrid as it found its way into his mouth and rushed up his nose. He flailed around trying to right himself and make his way above the water. As his head broke the plane, a filmy layer of slime stuck to his face. He spit out the water and inhaled a deep breath.

Much of the slime on his face was sucked into his mouth. It was like eating a ball of snot. Before he could clear his eyes of the gross membrane, a hand grabbed ahold of his ankle and pulled him back under the water. He found himself staring through the murky liquid and into the decayed face of a dead woman. It was obvious from the way her lose skin seemed to float away from her body that she had been under the water for quite some time.

Guillermo kicked as hard as he could, but it wasn't enough to cause the woman to release her grip on his ankle. He lifted his head above the water to take a breath. Then plunged himself down and grabbed the skin on the woman's hand, it slid from her bones like a glove, revealing the soft muscle underneath. He was able to shake his ankle free of the skin-gloved hand and surface once again.

He looked around into a yard full of fiends, and they were all making their way toward the pool. He swam to the only opening he could see and climbed out quickly. He reached back to grab his blade, only to discover he had dropped it when he fell into the pool. His only option now was to make another run for the next yard and pray there was no water-filled death-hole.

He pushed hard into the closest fiend, knocking him into the water, and he ran straight to the wall. He jumped and used that momentum to help carry him over. The gra.s.s was soft as he landed on the ground, but it still knocked some of the wind out of him. He lifted himself up onto his knees and looked around the yard as he held his stomach. The problem with this yard is there was no wall around it. He had landed on a corner lot, and every fiend on the block had stopped to look at him.

Chapter 12.

"Research and development," Jonathan said to himself one morning through a mouthful of waffles. It didn't take long to figure out how to make them. The box of mix told him everything but how long to cook them. After overcooking a few, he found the perfect timing.

Finis.h.i.+ng his breakfast quickly, Jonathan walked to the garage, grabbed a pair of binoculars, and climbed the ladder to the roof. Once on the roof he looked out across the desolate town. At first he hated to see the town like this, yet lately it has been comforting just to know that there was at least something else outside of his world in the house. He had a plan, and the first part required understanding what was out there.

There was no pattern to be found in the way the dead moved out in the streets. They seem to be completely sporadic. Sometimes there would be one or two roaming about while other times the streets would be barren. Occasionally throughout the day, the dead would be moving about in hordes with no discernible reasoning.

Jonathan theorized that this was completely coincidental. The dead never showed any signs of understanding each other. He also wondered if, by grouping up, the dead were remembering a time when they had social interaction.

Several days wasted on the roof is how Jonathan felt about what he hadn't learned so far. He would have to modify his plan a little bit if he wanted to learn anything useful. He spent another entire day planning and thinking. Regardless of what he felt he needed to learn there really only seemed to be one sure way to study these creatures. He had to capture one.

Although he wasn't learning much from studying the movement of the undead, he continued to climb to the roof several times a day and have a look around. While he was not on the roof he was in the family room where he had brought out a chalk board. He made a short list of some supplies he would need. A rudimentary schematic was drawn up for how he would capture one of them.

Knowing that his lack of physical strength would literally be his weakness he decided that he could use his father's car to make up for it. His plan was to create a primitive snare trap with a length of rope and use the car to haul the dead body over the property wall. Once he had one in the confines of the wall he hoped to have enough time to tie the dead up and move it into the back behind the generator shed.

The next two days were stressful for Jonathan. He wasn't sure what he could use as bait to draw one of the dead into the trap, and he also had to deal with the outrageous number of them wandering around out in the open. There would not be any way to make his way out of the yard to set the trap before they were all over him.

The third day was spent experimenting with the trap and how to place it for the best chances of making a catch. The diagram for the spring trap was for catching small animals, and Jonathan lacked a spring mechanism. His plan would call for him to be on the other side of the wall and pull the rope tight as his victim stepped into the trap. He would than run to the car and drive it forward until the dead body was pulled over.

The following day was going to be the day. Clouds were visible in the sky, but they were thin and the sun shone brightly. The street out front of his house was clear, so it was time to act. Jonathan stood in his yard making his final mental preparations when he heard the gunshots off in the distance. He ran through the garage, grabbed his binoculars, and climbed to the roof.

Most of the dead in his area were moving toward the sound. He wasn't sure if this was good for him, or bad. A few minutes of silence pa.s.sed and a single gunshot sounded. Jonathan could not see where it came from, but the dead were going to find it. He only hoped whoever it was would be alright.

A few more minutes pa.s.sed before Jonathan decided it was time to return to work. Most of the dead had moved north, but a few stragglers stayed behind. He finished his walk around the yard and felt confident that he could pull this off.

His first move would be placing the car in its spot. He climbed into the driver's seat of the BMW. After adjusting the seat and mirrors he buckled his seatbelt. His father was very strict on wearing seatbelts. He pressed the push b.u.t.ton ignition and the engine roared vigorously to life.

He pressed the b.u.t.ton on the remote to lift the garage door. Although the garage was well lit through the skylights, the sunlight pouring in was blinding. His father never let him drive the BMW, yet he had driven his mother's Chrysler 300M. Once the Garage door was opened fully he pressed the brake down and s.h.i.+fted the transmission into reverse.

The car rolled backwards as he let his foot off of the brake. He brought the car to a stop just outside of the garage. A smile formed on his face, he looked around knowing that n.o.body was there to see him anyway, and he stomped on the gas. The tachometer shot to six-thousand RPMs as he released the brake.

All five-hundred and thrity-six horsepower from the twin-turbo charged six liter V-twelve engine ignited over the asphalt driveway through all four tires of the wickedly powerful sedan. Smoke was accompanied by the smell of burning rubber. As the front tires finally found their grip the car launched back and Jonathan lost control.

Gra.s.s and dirt rooster tailed into the air as he flew through the yard. When he finally pressed the brake down the car slid another fifteen feet, stopping just a few feet from a large palm tree. He had gone across the entire front lawn in a matter of seconds. A few awkward laughs escaped him as he fully realized what all had happened in such a short amount of time.

"I probably shouldn't do that again," he said to himself. His heart pounded like a string of firecrackers exploding in his chest.

With his nerves finally settled, he s.h.i.+fted the car into drive and released the brake. Allowing the car to idle, it moved forward quickly through the yard and across the driveway. He backed the BMW up to the wall and stepped out. Two ropes tied to the undercarriage of the car would provide both the snare and a way back over the wall after he set the trap. The ladder against the wall was brought out earlier in the day.

Jonathan threw both ropes over the wall, climbed the ladder to make sure it was clear, and he walked back to the car to grab some steaks he had grabbed out of the freezer the night before. Not sure exactly what would attract them; he chose to go with New York strip steak, as he knew it would surely attract him. Drops of rain began falling gently from the sky. How this would affect his plan was unknown, so he moved ahead.

Peaking over the wall he confirmed that the street was clear enough to make his move. Giving one last tug on each of the ropes to make sure it was fastened securely, he prepared himself one last time to venture outside the safety of the wall. He tossed the wrapped up steaks over, slid himself to the other side of the wall and dropped to the ground. The fall was further than he antic.i.p.ated. Pain shot through his left leg, and he fell onto his stomach on the cool wet gra.s.s.

a.s.sessing his leg, Jonathan felt that nothing was broke. Wobbling slightly as he stood, he looked around once more and proceeded with setting the trap. The snare was set wide, about five feet from one side to the other. Jonathan felt this would provide enough room to trap one of the dead. Resting the rope on sticks he had tied together to provide a base that would allow the rope to sit roughly two inches off the ground. Jonathan's number crunching showed that this would snare the dead just below the knees.

After placing the steaks in the center of the ring he began climbing the rope back over the wall. The pain in his leg was dull, but it made it hard for him to climb the wet rope. Pulling himself over the wall was difficult, yet he made it just as he heard the moans coming from the yard across the street. Turning around on the ladder he peeked over the wall to watch as his prey walked into his trap.

The shambling dead man gurgled as he wandered out into the street. He was dressed in a police uniform. His right arm hung loosely as it was broken above the elbow. Jonathan felt bad for the man, but he was so excited to have lured one in with such ease and on the first try, too. The dead police officer did not come across. Instead he wandered down toward the end of the block. Jonathan was furious, and stuck his head up over the wall to see if there was a reason he'd pa.s.sed by.

"Nothing!" Jonathan said under his breath in anger. "What is it going to take to get your attention?"

He stepped down to the next rung on the ladder. As he put weight on his left leg to bring the other down a slight hint of pain caused him to turn his foot slightly. The wet rung seemed to have run out from under him. He let out a loud yell as he fell the remaining four feet.

Jonathan slammed into the ground, feeling as though he had been hit by the BMW. Pain coursed through his body. With the wind knocked out of him, he tried to let out another yell, but no sound came out. Then he lay in the soft rain struggling to catch his breath. The choking moans became louder, causing him to sit up.

His right elbow felt as if someone had smacked it with a hammer. Along with his left leg and right ribs, the pain seemed to move between the three areas. The moans became louder still. He forced himself up the ladder, taking caution not to slip again. By the time he made it to the top of the wall he could tell that the moans had more than one source.

Peeking over the wall yet again, he saw three dead people making their way toward his wall. They still didn't seem to have much concern for the steaks he had set out for them, but he could tell they knew someone was close by. He kept a close eye on them as they felt along the wall. They slowly moved closer. Unaware of exactly where the noise came from, they seemed to just head in that direction.

Jonathan recognized the young woman in the yellow tank top as she moved along the wall completely pa.s.sing by the trap. He had seen her on his first time out after the attacks. The next man was also familiar. He was the heavy set man standing with her at his gate that day. This man stepped right into the snare and Jonathan reacted. He grabbed the rope and pulled with all his might.

He took it easy, however, but as soon as his feet touched the ground he ran away from the wall still holding the rope. The sound of the man hitting the pavement brought a smile to Jonathan's face. Jonathan made his way back up the ladder as quickly as he could despite the pain. He saw the man lying in the gra.s.s trying to make his way to his feet.

He made it back down the ladder much faster this time as he pushed the pain from his mind. He jumped back into the driver's seat of the BMW, pressed the ignition b.u.t.ton as well as the brake. As soon as the engine roared he dropped the s.h.i.+fter into drive, released the brake, and let the car move forward under its own power. Keeping his eyes on the mirror he saw the feet come over the wall followed by the legs. The legs, however, were followed by a string of intestines. He had pulled the man in half.

Stopping the car and stepping out, Jonathan made his way back to the pair of legs. They were not kicking or moving which gave him the impression that he must have killed the man. If he could call killing a dead man "killing him." He climbed back up the ladder slowly peeking over the top of the wall. The dead man was crawling away unfazed by what had just happened to him.

Jonathan glanced back down at the legs with a look of surprise on his face. He hypothesized that the body was indeed controlled by the upper half, most likely the brain. He would try again tomorrow, but for now he was going to drag the legs to the back and throw them over the wall into one of the other yards.

He decided to take the next day off as his body was sore. During his resting time he had to fix the problem of ripping another dead man in half. One of his first re-designs called for a pulley system that would allow him to lift a body over the wall before bringing it back down on the other side. Something a little simpler came to mind, however. He would use two ropes and call them to him. One rope would be his snare trap on the ground while he used the second rope as a la.s.so, dropping it down over the chest.

He figured this would solve two problems in one shot. The problem of possibly pulling another one in half, and the problem of tying it up once he had one over the wall. He wouldn't need the la.s.so skills of a cowboy, yet he still practiced to perfect his technique.

Jonathan awoke, feeling no more pain in his body, and he felt the day was here to make his move once again. The sun was bright and the gra.s.s was dry. The fact that the dead were out all over today was an added incentive to go for it now. They had been out more after all the noise he had made the last time. Stepping out of the garage, Jonathan felt consumed by the beautiful sun. The car was already in place with the ropes waiting to play their part.

He tried to stay as close to the wall as he could to avoid being seen through the gate. He crept up the ladder and looked over the wall. The dead were everywhere, and there was nothing around to explain why they were out like this. Although most days were as beautiful as this one, he theorized that maybe it had something to do with humidity, but lacking a device to read humidity, he couldn't confirm this.

Jonathan dropped the first rope down onto the soft green gra.s.s in a five foot radius. Even after shaking the rope a bit it still turned into more of an awkward oval than a circle, but it would work. The next rope he kept in his hands ready to drop it around the chest of the first dead body to walk into his trap.

"h.e.l.lo!" he hollered over the wall kind of timidly.

The sounds of feet and bodies being dragged stopped along with the horrible moans. The silence felt heavy to Jonathan, like he would soon be crushed by it if some noise didn't stop its brutal a.s.sault.

Theory had become a way of life for him, and he theorized once again. This time he had confused them, and he had made a mental note of it. Once the shuffling and moans started up again he looked over the wall. They had gone back to their aimless wandering.

"h.e.l.lo!" Jonathan shouted once more adding, "Over here!" He was certain they didn't know what over here was, but he said it anyway.

This time he waited for them to turn and look. His eyes met those of the girl in the yellow tank top. She has not seemed to have decomposed much which Jonathan found to be very fascinating. This made him wonder if the effects of his father's experiments are permanent. Which would mean these people would be capable of roaming the earth for an unforeseeable number of years.

Most of the street had responded to his call, but the girl in the yellow tank top had stepped into his trap first. Jonathan jerked as hard as he could on the snare rope while trying to use only enough force to tighten the rope around her legs without knocking her down. As soon as the rope was tightened he prepared to drop the la.s.so waiting only long enough for her to hold still for just a moment.

He didn't want her to have the chance to move and possibly trip as he wasn't sure if she would be able to stand back up with both legs tied. His moment came and he dropped the la.s.so perfectly around her chest just in time for her to trip. Her fall managed to tighten the rope working perfectly in Jonathan's favor.

Throwing himself off of the ladder he ran at a dead sprint to the car which was not all that far away. Overshooting the door by a few feet, he had to turn around and take a few steps back. Once again the car engine fired up, the brake was pressed, the s.h.i.+fter was aligned with the drive gear, and Jonathan released the break allowing the car to move forward under its own power.

Erupting from Jonathan was a combination of cheer and laughter as he saw the body fall over the wall in the rear view mirror. Placing the car in reverse he drove back a few feet to give him slack in the ropes, and he jumped from the car. Reaching the struggling body, he quickly placed a burlap sack over her head that he had gotten from the pantry after emptying the potatoes from it. Then he tightened the ropes around her the best he could.

After zip tying her boney hands behind her back, he dragged her through the yard. She was much lighter than he had expected she would be. Moans drifted eerily from the burlap sack and she twisted her head back and forth. She didn't seem to be strong, yet Jonathan was nervous of what she could do if she were to wiggle free.

The excited moans and commotion of the dead out on the street could still be heard, yet it was gradually quieting down. Once he made it back to the shed, he tied the girl up by her neck, legs, arms, and even around her waist.

Up close, Jonathan could see that most of her skin was wrinkled and thin. It hung loose from her body in some spots. Her fingers reminded him of his great-grandmother. Chills shot through him as he thought of this woman reaching out to pinch his cheeks when he was just a small child.

"Come over here boy so I can get a look at you." Her raspy voice would give him goose b.u.mps every time he heard it. Those thin fingers were cold on his face as she squeezed. Never tight enough to hurt, but Jonathan believed that was her intentions. Luckily she didn't have the strength.

Pus.h.i.+ng the memory aside, he returned his focus to the dead girl in front of him. "Time to learn something about you," he said as he pulled the sack off of her head.

The girl became more violent as she seen him. She let out a low groan and tried to break free of her bindings. Jonathan watched her for over an hour, and never once did she seem to tire. Her groans turned to moans, and the moans to a gurgling choking sound, and then they turned back to groans. Now that he had captured one, he really wasn't sure where to start his research. He walked through the garage and into the house to watch her from a window. She continued to fight with her body turned in the direction of the door he had disappeared through.

"Fifty-nine minutes and thirty-seven seconds," he said aloud into a voice recorder as he wrote this down in his leather-bound journal. "It took the subject about an hour to give up her pursuit for me. She now seems to be perfectly content with her situation."

He continued to watch her through the day. Never once did she seem to show any signs of acknowledging her bindings. She just stood there. Occasionally she would try to move, but after being stopped by the ropes she became docile once more. Throughout the night when Jonathan woke up to check on her she was never asleep, and she never seemed to care that she couldn't roam about. She just stood there. Emotion was absent, and she seemed to have no essence or individuality.

The sun rose up over the eastern wall that next morning. Jonathan exited the back of the garage, and as he did so his captive began her attempts to reach him. With him he had some freshly cooked sausage links, yet she didn't regard them in the slightest. He held one up to her face with a fork even going as far as placing it in her mouth. The girl didn't even attempt to chew it, and the link fell to the ground. It seemed her only goal was to make it to Jonathan.