Category Archives: Horror

4.07 Injection

“Uncle Marshall,” said Max.  “Daddy says there’s a shot in that fort that you have to go get. ”

‘What kind of shot?” Asked Marshall.

“One that kills bugs.  Only it doesn’t work unless the bugs want to take it into themselves.  They can just ignore it.”  Max said, looking slightly skeptical.

Victor Sr asked, “Vic wants us go into that place for a shot that doesn’t work?”

“Yes, Poppy.  He knows about it though, he thinks he can still make it work.  It’s the same shot that made my bugs sick.”

“What bugs?” Asked Max’s grandfather.

“When I got bit at school, I got bugs.  They made me sick at first, but now they’re my friends.  They live in here,” said Max, pointing to his head.  “They tell me things.  Like right now they’re telling me that you don’t believe me.”

Victor thought about Max’s statement.  It was a big insight for a four year old to make.  Max had always been an exceptionally bright child, but would he pick up on body language this early? “It isn’t that I don’t believe you, Max.” Said Victor.  “But how could it be?  How come you aren’t one of them?”

“They say I’m different.  Daddy thinks that’s why Mr. Frye wanted to take me,  and why the zombies want me.”

Marshall was still worried about whatever was in that fort.  Whatever had been in the area that smashed those cars was bigger and stronger than he was.  “Did he say where it was in there?”

“Nope.  Just that it was in there.  I think you should take Mr. Shelton with you, Uncle Marshall,” said Max.

“Why Mr. Shelton, Max?”

“He’s been there before, when he became an army man.”

“Okay.  How did you know that, Max?” Asked his grandfather.

“The bugs told me.”

“Dad, we’ve all learned not to ask.  True or not, the fact is that Max is always right.  We should listen to him.”

“I’m going in there too.  You need someone to watch your back,” said Victor.  “I’ve been watching it for forty years.”

“I need you to stay with Max, Pop.  He’s way more important than you or me or Victor.  Everyone on this train would give their life for him.  If something goes wrong in there, I need you to keep Max safe.  I need you to get this train out of here and get him to Vic.”

Again Victor was unhappy with the response, but he saw the wisdom of Marshall’s thinking.  If Shelton was a military man, and if Max was right that he’d done his basic training here, then he was the man for the job.  “Come on, Max!  Let’s go read a book,” said Victor.

“Yay!” Exclaimed Max, following his grandfather out of the room.

Marshall headed the opposite direction, towards the locomotive.  When he stepped out of the dining car onto the locomotive platform, he saw the first zombie he’d seen in days.  He was standing in the back yard of a small run-down looking house, wearing a faded red tee shirt and a pair of brown cargo shorts.  The creature looked up as the train passed and started walking towards the tracks.  It hit a chain link fence, and continued to try to walk.  Marshall wondered how long he would continue to try to walk through the fence after the train was out of ear shot.

The big man stepped into the locomotive with Corbin Shelton, their military tactician, and told him about the shot, leaving out the part about it not being effective.

“It makes sense that they’d have something like that there.  Fort McPherson was a research base.  I spent some time there before I was deployed.  When I was there they were researching nerve-agent darts that could be fired out of a regular rifle.  We were looking for a way to put enemy combatants down without killing them, and without doing permanent damage.  They were working on a chemical agent that even a small scrape could put a man to sleep for two days.”

“Sounds like some potent stuff.  I wonder if that’s the stuff Vic was talking about.  In any case, we gotta go in there and find it.  Since you’ve been inside the labs, I’ll need your help finding what we’re looking for.”

Shelton looked startled.  Marshall didn’t think he was going to back down from the challenge, but the look of fear that briefly crossed Shelton’s face before being tucked away was an alarm for Marshall.

“They did a lot of other stuff in there too,” said Shelton.  “Rumor around the barracks was that they were trying to make a real life Captain America.  They were trying to genetically alter a human to be bigger, stronger, faster, and smarter than a normal person.  It was just a rumor, you know how people always have something to talk about.”

Shelton eased the throttle off on the train, and applied the brakes.  Victor had put post-it notes all over the cockpit labeling everything.  It made the train very easy to operate, in the limited capacity that they needed.  They were only hauling a handful of cars, as opposed to the two-million pounds the train was designed to carry.

“We should be pretty close to the fort now.  Stop the train, lets gear up and get this over with.  We’ll have time to discuss more details while we walk to the base.  The gates and doors have been open for a long time.  There’s a chance we’ll be able to walk in and out.”

“I hope you’re right,” said Shelton looking doubtful as he stepped out onto the ledge around the locomotive.  “I’ll grab my kit and meet you in five minutes.”

Marshall stood in the locomotive and pondered Shelton’s reaction.  He drove this train into a huge horde of zombies without a second’s hesitation.  But something in that military base was making him fearful.    Eventually he shook it off, I’m probably just overreacting, he thought to himself as he headed down the train to gather his own weapons.

When he was fully geared up, he found John sitting in the dining car over a hot cup of coffee.  John was staring intently into his cup.  “We’re not going to make it to my family in time, Marshall,” he said.  “Tookes has gone off on walkabout, Leo’s gone, we’re stopped again, and we’re not even a whole day’s travel from where we started.”

“I know it’s tough John.  Vic hasn’t ever let us down.  He hasn’t ever led us astray.  He’ll get you to your family,” replied Marshall.  “Shelton and I are going to run into the fort.  Max said I should take Shelton over you, I’m not sure why, but I’ve learned to rely on what the little man says.”

“Alright.  I’ll stay here and play wet nurse again.  But when Tookes gets back we’re going to have a talk.  Another talk.  My family is the reason we’re on this trip, they have to be the priority.  If they crash that bird and we’re not there to catch them its not going to be good.”

“Getting to your family is my priority John.  I know it’s Vic’s as well.  We’ll get there in time,” said Marshall as he paused at the door to the next car.  “I’ll be back in a couple of hours and we’ll be back on schedule.”

John returned to starting into his cup of coffee, thinking about seeing his wife and children after so long.

Marshall and Shelton met on the ground at the base of the locomotive, and without a word between them set off south towards the base and whatever mystery syringe Victor was looking for.  Marshall hadn’t ever doubted his brother.  One of their father’s favorite sayings was ‘Never tell them everything you know’.  Victor had always taken that to heart, he was not known for being forthright with all the info, ever.   His little brother had done pretty well by all of them, and Marshall knew he had his reasons, that was enough for him.

The two men were less than a block from the train when they came up on a pair of zombies.  “So much for having killed them all in the park,” said Shelton quietly.

Marshall pulled a hammer out of its clips on the back of his leather vest and motioned for Shelton to stay back.   He whistled a low note to get their attention and right on queue the two zombies started walking towards him.  The one on the left had been a female, about middle aged.  Not bad looking, thought Marshall as he swung his hammer over his head in a big circle.  Marshall was easily a foot and a half taller than this corpse.  The hammer hit the bottom of its arc, and caught her in the side of the jaw on the upswing.  The  arc ripped her skull from her neck, launching it forty-five degrees into the air and spraying zombie number two with gore.   Marshall continued the circle, bringing the hammer up and around in one smooth motion, and did almost the same to the second zombie.  The second circle was much flatter, and just scalped the man-zombie, smashing its skull in and flipping the zombie over onto its side.

There were three distinct almost simultaneous splats.  The woman’s head hit the brick wall across the street, the rest of her corpse slopped to the ground, and the male zombie impacted the asphalt all at the same time.  Quick, silent, and relatively clean.  Marshall wiped the head of his hammer before replacing it in its cradle on his back.  The two men continued the trek towards the army base in less than five seconds.

“Jesus, Marshall.  I’ve never seen anything like that,” said Corbin.

“I’m just big and strong,” said Marshall.  “I’d rather have Leo’s speed.”

“I’d just like to have some sort of edge,” said Shelton.

“You have training and experience.  That’s your edge Corbin,” said Marshall.

The rest of the trip to the fort was fairly uneventful.  They walked into the yard with all the corpses still laying where they’d been killed or re-killed.  “This was a cluster-fuck,” said Shelton.

“Yea.  Must have been something ugly to do all this.   Lets get in and out before whatever did this comes back,” Marshall said stepping up to the door.

Inside the hallway was gloomy, the only light came from the door they came in.  Marshall reached into the pocket of his cargo shorts and pulled out a flashlight.  He held it in one hand, and his gun in the other.

“Marshall, flip your flashlight around in your fist, then cross your wrists,” said Shelton crossing his flashlight hand over the wrist of his gun hand, so the flashlight shone down the barrel.  “It lets you steady your gun, and keeps your light and gun pointed in the same place.”

“Thanks,” said Marshall, following Shelton’s lead.  “Anything else I’m doing wrong? Before all this I was a management consultant.  I can use all the help you’ve got to give.”

“In this situation you’re doing fine.  Let me breech the doors, watch how I do it.”  Shelton moved towards an open doorway on the right side of the hallway.  Standing almost five feet back from the door, he leaned his arm against the wall.  “From here,” he whispered.  “I can see a few feet of the room through the door.  When you present yourself to the door, you want to stay well outside, and limit the angle something on the inside has to see you.”

Shelton leaned a foot out into the hallway, peering into the room a little more before returning to his spot against the wall.  “That gave me a couple more degrees of sight into the room,” he whispered, before leaning further out in front of the hall.  He repeated that process, over and over, each time moving further away from the wall, allowing him to see more of the room with each pass.  When he was square with the door, he whispered. “Alright,   I’ve cleared the whole room, except this front corner.  To get that one I’ll step into the room.  I know that three out of the 4 corners of the room are clear.”

Shelton stepped into the room, then Marshall heard Shelton yell “Put your weapons on the fucking ground! Hands where I can see them!”

This is the end of the free sample.  If you’d like to continue reading, What Zombies Fear: Fracture is available on
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4.06 Alicia

This entire book, as posted on this site, is a rough draft.  It’s the cost of reading as I write, instead of waiting until it’s available on Kindle.

She wasn’t out of this yet.

Kris was furiously pacing the floor, deep in thought. It was obvious that she had spent too much time dwelling on what she could not do verses what she could. The knowledge that there was much more to her than she had ever imagined was invigorating. She felt revived with a new sense of purpose. As she paced from one side of the dark room to the other, a deep driving need to survive filled her mind. She was consumed by it.

They had underestimated her the first time, but they wouldn’t make that mistake twice. Kris knew that she needed to be well beyond their reach by the time they got back.

Two hours passed. Thin, deep red streams of light stretched across the industrial carpet and Kris could feel the temperature dropping. She needed to get out of here and the only thing standing in her way was that damn door, but she wasn’t strong enough to break it down. There had to be another way.

Miss Kris?” It was Max again. “Are you still there?”

She forgot he had been listening. “I’m here, Max. I’m sorry you had to hear that. I don’t know how, but I have to get out of here.

“Daddy says all the things have a reasonable frequency. Find the tone and use your shield to amplify it.” There was a pause and Kris wondered what a “reasonable frequency” before Max corrected himself and said, “Resonating.”

Kris smiled slightly at the word correction. Victor must have been listening in to their conversation. He was such a good father to Max. It was strange that children were not something that Kris ever felt drawn to. When Leslie, one of the girls she worked with, brought her four month old son into the restaurant, Kris felt the urge to run the other way. All of the other servers were so excited over the baby but Kris found herself purposely avoiding the entire situation. She had awkwardly waved at Leslie from the opposite side of the bar and then hid in the kitchen. Just the idea of holding the baby made her skin crawl and that’s when Kris decided that some women just weren’t meant to have children. Maybe she was one of those women. From her experience, children were usually loud, obnoxious and rude. But little Max was different. He was sweet, adorable and very intelligent. As much as she hated to admit it, she really liked him.

“I’ll try that, but what if I can’t make the right sound?”

“Then we’ll try something else, but you can do this Kris,” The voice was Victor’s now. “When you get out, find out where you are and tell Max. I’m going to go get Leo and we’re coming to find you.”

We’re coming to find you. His voice echoed inside her mind and their connection was abruptly silenced and Kris was alone again. Conversations were also so damn short with these people. The world had complained about what technology had done to the ability to converse, but no one even considered what an apocalypse would do. Kris wanted nothing more than to have a moment of normalcy and have a real conversation with someone that didn’t involve how they were going to survive. Or about some insane crusade to save the world. Or maybe where she didn’t have to worry about what was coming to kill her next.
The frequency of resonance is linked to the time it takes for a vibration of sound to spread throughout a building, reverberate and then how long it takes for the “echoes” to return to the oscillation, The voice told her in its usual clipped fashion. By finding the correct frequency, any structure can be destroyed. Kris took over the conversation and told herself, Find the right frequency, and I can bring the house down.

Kris stopped pacing and stood in the center of the room. Her feet were placed shoulder width apart and she stood tall, exhaling slowly. She let all of air out of her lungs and focused on expanding her ribcage as she inhaled. Air filled her lungs again and she picked the lowest note she could sing. Kris created a small dome just in front of her lips and sang into the bubble. With a flick of her hand, she pushed the bubble across the room and morphed it around the door. The metal door vibrated gently and began to produce a beautiful cord inside its frame. Kris listened for the highest note in the cord and shifted her voice to fit the sound. She was singing a few octaves under the highest tone and pinched the dome into a tall cylinder to bend the pitch. As the dome pinched together, the note was pushed to screaming heights.

The note permeated the door and filled its core. Kris could feel it rattling around in the frame, and the door shook violently before it slowly began to crumble. Before her eyes, the steel door turned into nothing but dust and the the aluminum door handle clunked to the floor. The sound was abruptly snuffed out as the door disappeared.

“Holy shit, that actually worked!” she shouted and threw her arms into the air and shouted with joy and made a mental note to thank Vic later for that bit of genius. She ran towards the open door frame and into the hall. Kris pushed the dome out from her body and had it expand over the floor of the Sheraton hotel. The entire layout of the floor filled Kris’s mind and she could once again confirm that she was alone. Part of the dome brushed against the elevator shaft 400 feet in front of her and a distinct “8” bore into her mind. Eight floor.

The industrial carpet was golden yellow, tan and black in a typical modern block formation. The pattern was over-sized and terribly standard-looking. As she ran, she had to be careful where her feet landed. There was wooden debris, glass and discarded pieces of furniture that littered the floor. In her bare feet, every step was a risk. Even though she healed very quickly, Kris didn’t want anything potentially slowing her down. At the end of the hall, she found the emergency exit and threw herself against it. Kris drew the shield back around herself like a warm blanket as the door flew inward and rattled roughly against the interior concrete wall. As she stepped inside the door, she glanced around the staircase. It was silent. Kris knocked on the metal handrail and as the sound reverberated through the open stairwell, she expanded the sphere that protected her to fill the entire area. Aside from a half dozen rotting corpses in tattered clothing and a broken-up love seat, the emergency exit was empty. Kris trotted down the cold cement stairs. Her bare feet made soft padding noises as she crossed each step.

It is better for civilization to be going down the drain than to be coming up it. Henry Allen’s Law of Civilization, the Voice told her. Oh, thanks for that. Always so God damn cheerful, Kris snapped in response.

She only had to side step once to avoid a shattered portion of the stairs before she pushed open the emergency exit door that lead into the hotel lobby. It must have been beautiful before the world collapsed. The tan, deeply veined marble floor still gleamed brightly in the late evening light. Whoever had polished it last did a remarkable job and would have deserved a raise for his work. The lobby was enormous with a squat, arched ceiling and four large, multi-coloured glass chandeliers. One of the four chandeliers had crashed to the marble floor and shattered into thousands of rainbow shards. All that was left attached to the ceiling were a set of wires with a few left over strands of glass. Gathered into small groups around the expansive room were black, leather bound love seats paired with two wing-back chairs and a circular, glass coffee table. The furniture groupings were anchored together on what used to be brightly colored, hand woven rugs. In the passing months, they had grown dark, dingy and some had been stained with blood. There were more corpses in the lobby than anywhere else Kris had encountered and the stench was overwhelming. She felt bile rise up in her throat and she swallowed hard to avoid throwing up.

There were dark patches of dried blood spread across the marble floor. There were streaks of it that led from the revolving door and straight to the main desk. Kristina Thompson, checking in. And have the bellboy pick up my bags, please. Just to the side of the streak there were awkwardly placed, bloody footprints that seemed to stagger off behind the desk.

She was suddenly standing just outside of the Humvee that picked her up the night the world changed. With horror, she watched a set of zombie teeth tear into a bicep of the man that wore black swimming trunks. The teeth sunk into his muscle and out of reflex, the man’s elbow snapped upwards. Another set of teeth tore into the base of his neck. Both zombies pulled their heads backward and strings of muscle, skin and gore fell from their gnashing teeth. Blood exploded from the wounds and bubbled down his shirt. Another zombie had the man’s left hand in its mouth and was chewing slowly. Kris heard his bones snapping and popping and the zombie bit down again and pulled with its teeth. The flesh and muscle was pulled from his hand in one solid motion and all that was left was the skeletal remains.

The man screamed.

With a shout, Kris tore herself from her past and pushed the memory back down where it belonged. Breathing deeply, she focused on what was real and stomped her feet against the cold marble. She was cold, hungry and in need of somewhere safe to spend the night. And the first order of business was to find some God damn shoes.

As she pushed through the revolving doors, she spread the dome out and stretched it across ¾ of the block. As she walked, Kris had the entire layout of the block etched perfectly in her mind. From what she could see, the area looked like a scene out of some over-done, Hollywood disaster movie. Only in this world, the credits would never roll and the dead never stayed dead. Lifeless bodies and destroyed, burnt out cars lined the silent streets. The air, just like the city, was still. Kris pushed the sphere out farther and it fully covered the block and aside from a small flock of seagulls, there was not another living thing in the area.

“Jesus Christ,” she sighed and wrapped her arms around herself as she walked down the small staircase that lead to the sidewalk. The first ten corpses she passed were either men, or women with much smaller feet than her. She tried very hard to ignore that she was about to steal shoes from a dead body.

Stealing shoes off a dead man. Oh, we’re going to hell. Weekend at Bernies 2, The Voice said.

That was one of the shittiest movies I’ve ever seen, Kris retorted with a snort.

But Jeff wanted to watch it. So you did.

Kris brushed the last comment aside as she jogged down the street, keeping her eyes open for shoes that looked like they would fit. Eventually, she found a pair of lime green and yellow Puma running shoes. As she crouched down to remove the shoes, she turned her head to the side. The skin and bones had dried out and as Kris pulled the shoes off, the bones made a sick snapping sound and she flinched in disgust. Standing up, she tied the laces together and tucked the shoes under her armpit. She could handle shoes from a dead body, but socks were something else entirely. Half a block down, she found a CVS with all of the glass windows broken in. She did a quick search and managed to find a bag of men’s socks, an XXL black hooded sweatshirt with the word “MOBILE” across the front, a bottle of water and two Lara bars. In desperation, she also grabbed a mop. After placing it on an angle against the floor and wall, she stepped on it and snapped it to a sharp point. It wasn’t much of a weapon, but it was better than nothing.

She tore one of the wrappers off of the Lara bar and bit into it. It still tasted like cardboard, but it was the best tasting cardboard she had ever eaten. With a sigh, she sat down on the curb of the street and ripped open the plastic bag of socks and took out four pairs. With a cringe, she realized that the only thing separating her feet from the feet of the shoes’ previous inhabitant was a thin piece of cotton. And then she realized that doubling up on socks was not an option because the shoes weren’t large enough. Her face was tightly scrunched as she pulled the socks onto her feet and then the sneakers. “Oh, this is all types of fucked up,” she muttered and as she stood, she twisted off the cap of the water and drank it greedily.

She pushed the extra socks and the second Lara bar into the front pocket of the sweatshirt and pulled the deep hood up over her head. The sun was getting perilously low and she still had no safe place to go. After another deep sigh, she stuffed her hands in her pockets and began to walk down the block. The only thing she was grateful for in this entire trip was that their little stunt in Atlanta had apparently drawn all of the zombies in the surrounding area into Georgia and out of Alabama.

Fucking Tookes. God damn crusade… She thought, shaking her head. And yet at the same time, she found herself missing his drive and his passion. If not him, who? She thought. Followed immediately by, I must be losing my mind.

The last thing she expected to hear were running engines shuttering to a stop three blocks away. And as if hearing those engines wasn’t enough, she heard nin distinct heartbeats pumping warm blood to live bodies.

Her ears picked up a clear, distinctly feminine voice. “Jackson, spread your men around the trucks. Keep your eyes peeled for walkers. Tommy, move your teams into positions around the pumps. We have thirty-thousand gallons to pump, move your asses!”

“You got it, Alicia,” one said.

“We’ll get it done,” said another.

“We’ll get you back to that beautiful baby tonight, Tommy. You have my word.”

Kris ran towards them and as she did, she carried the sphere with her and began to project it forward.


4.05 Departure

Victor stood just inside the doorway leaning on the shopping cart, trying to puzzle everything out. Leeland stood on the front side of the cart where he’d dragged it inside the door. A few seconds later, Mother Rotelle walked in, set her rifle barrel up in the umbrella tree, and looked at the groceries.

“That seems like way more than I asked for, Victor,” she said.

“Well Mrs. Rotelle, I didn’t want you to run out, and I wasn’t able to get everything on the list. But, now I see how you were able to survive this long by yourselves.”

“How’s that deary? Survive what,” she asked.

Leeland looked puzzled at the entire conversation.

“You shoot as well as my friend John. And Leeland, do you often end up places and not know how you got there?”

“No, never,” Leeland replied.

Victor decided not to push any farther. Either they were both firmly entrenched in their dementia, or they were pretending and not going to let go. He liked them and decided to just play along.

“Alright,” Victor said. “Lets get these groceries put away, and then I need to be on my way. I’ve been gone from my son for far too long.”

“Oh, you have a son? What’s his name?”

Victor thought about lying, but he decided against it. He watched for reactions, switching his vision to see their auras. He looked to see what their actions would be. Their auras were as they always were, swirling rainbows of color. Most people’s auras were one solid color, or slashes of different colors. Both Leeland and Mrs. Rotelle’s were always shifting through all of the colors in big swirling patterns. It added weight to his thoughts that they may be suffering from dementia.

“Max,” said Victor.

“That’s a good strong name,” said Leeland. “What was your name again?”

“Victor Tookes, sir. It’s nice to meet you.” No change in either of their auras as he spoke. Either they really didn’t remember their dinner conversation or they just didn’t care, Victor couldn’t be sure.

He finished putting the groceries away while Mrs. Rotelle made lunch for them. One thing he missed about normal life was regular meals that consisted of more than one thing. Victor was so used to eating whatever food came out of the can he happened to open, even lunch consisting of Spam sandwiches and processed cheese-food were a treat.

When he was finished eating, Victor checked out for a minute in the middle of Leeland’s third telling of the time he arrived at the house just out of the army in the summer of ’53. ‘Kris, are you there?‘ he asked.

Well hot damn, Mr. Tookes! Glad to hear from you again. Ya get a little cooked in Atlanta?” He could hear the smile in her voice and she continued, “That resonance idea was GOLD. I’m out if the hotel and there’s no sign of those pricks that took me. Or Laura.

Great news. Where can I pick you up? I’m in Mobile now.

Moblie? Damn, you work fast. I ran into another group of humans that have a settlement up in Tennessee and I’ve decided to go with them. I honestly think I could help them. And to be honest? I think it’ll be more…normal than the usual bullshit,” she replied.

His heart sank. I really thought after we connected, after we worked so well together she’d reconsider leaving me. I liked Kris a lot.

‘Nothing against you, but I’ve had my fair share of humanity saving.

Kris, if we don’t do it, no one will. We’ll never be safe, we’ll never be able to relax our guard. I’d rather be sitting back at the farm with my mom watching the crops grow too, but this is way bigger than both of us,’ I replied.

I get that. I really do. I’ve been in your head, Tookes. We’re all on the same side. Why can’t I do my own part by helping another group survive?’ She replied. “Besides, if you really need me, all you need to do is ask. You’ll always knows where I am.’

Do what you need to do. If you ever get in trouble, call Max. We’ll be there for you. Stay safe out there, keep your head down and try to find some happiness.’ I said, ending the connection. He tried to shove his anger down into its box. His team was now down two members. How was he supposed to keep them all together? Not that it mattered, he’d do this alone if he had to.

Victor opened his eyes, or rather, refocused them. They’d been open the whole time, staring into space. Leeland was looking at him strangely. “You alright son? Looked like you left us for a while,” he said.

“Oh yea, I’m fine. I was just thinking about getting back to my family. I really need to be going. Leeland, do you know where the east-west train tracks are, up in Montgomery north of here? My family is on a train heading west, and I need to get to the tracks before they pass through here.”

“Oh yea, its about two and a half to Montgomery, but just over the boarder in Louisiana the tracks turn south and run down to Naw’lins. We can be at those tracks in Hattiesburg in under an hour.”

“Would you be willing to drive me to the tracks?” asked Victor.

“Oh, sure. Nothin’ to it. Let me know when you’re ready. Probably gonna have to gas up the truck though,” Leeland said.

“I’ll cover the gas, its the least I can do.”

“That’s a deal then, son. Let me know when you’re ready.”

“I’m ready now, just need to thank you both for your hospitality. I needed this night here,” said Victor.

“It was nothin’ deary, it was our pleasure to have you. Safe travels,” said Mother Rotelle, hugging Victor tightly. She laid her head on his stomach, as she hugged him. Once again he was astounded at how small she was. He hugged her back as best he could.

“It was a pleasure having you with us, son,” said Leeland holding out his hand. Victor took Leeland’s hand for what must have been the twentieth time. Before he could shake his hand, Victor felt the cold of travel surround him. A millisecond later he was shaking Leeland’s hand standing on a rail bed.

“Thanks for the lift,” Victor said. “Be safe when you head home, I don’t want you to doze off like you did on the way up here.”

“Oh, it’s always better when I’m driving. Nell always says I there must be an off switch on my ass that gets tripped when I’m in the passenger seat,” said Leeland turning to walk away. He’d gone about five steps when he yelled back, “Stay safe Victor Tookes.” And then he was gone, leaving only that familiar black mist.

Victor looked around. He was standing at an intersection where a small road crossed the train tracks. There weren’t any buildings in site. He was surrounded by hay fields. There weren’t even crossing gates at the intersection, just a diamond shaped sign facing away from Victor about a hundred yards up the road in either direction.

Victor slowly got down on his knees near the train tracks and put his ear to the steel. It had always worked in the old cowboy movies, but he couldn’t hear anything on the tracks. ‘Maybe they are still too far away,’ Victor thought to himself. He turned around and sat down on his backpack. It was a little lumpy, but far better than sitting on the road. He sat for the better part of an hour, getting up to listen to the tracks every ten minutes. He started to worry, which lead him to thinking about Kris leaving the group. That lead into Leo leaving, and that lead to Victor getting angry.

Like always, Victor shoved his anger down into a box specifically built in his brain to handle excessive and unnecessary emotion. A box he kept promising he’d open one day, and deal with. For now he needed to be busy, so he strapped his pack on his back and struck off up the road towards the nearest farmhouse. The house was up on a small rise, about half a mile from the tracks. It was the only thing he could see from where Leeland had dropped him off, so that was the target. He told himself it was to get out of the cold. It couldn’t be more than a few degrees above freezing. Victor was wearing lots of layers, but the constant breeze was blowing right through them all.

It took him about fifteen minutes to walk to the house. He moved slowly and deliberately, walking down the middle of the road looking through the tall grass for any sign of the undead. When he got to the house, he looked it over thoroughly. It was old, probably antebellum, although Victor was no expert on architecture. The wooden siding had once been painted white, although now it was mostly gray weathered wood with white flecks of paint. The shutters were still mostly black, and the tin roof looked like it had been painted within the last several years. It had a huge bi-level porch that wrapped around three sides of the house. On the back was a small addition, probably a wash room or a laundry room.

Victor slowly stepped up on to the front porch, trying to avoid stray creaks that a porch this old was bound to have. He failed miserably at that task. The porch creaked with every step. The whole area was eerily silent, there were no birds, no crickets, no grasshoppers chirping. It sounded like his footsteps carried for miles. That should have struck him as odd, but he was concentrating all of his energy on listening to the inside of the house. The front door was unlocked, and opened easily. The inside of the house was dark, and it took his eyes a couple of seconds to adjust from the bright sunlight outside.

Sitting in an ancient wingback chair in the middle of the parlor to his left was Joshua Frye. In one smoothe motion Victor pulled his gun and fired two shots. his aim was true, but Frye was surrounded by some sort of shield. Frye still had an aura, and hadn’t ever let on that he was a super.

“I told you he’d shoot first,” said Frye.

4.03 Supper

Victor opened the door to the bedroom, the first on the left at the top of the stairs.  Inside the door was a small but orderly bedroom.  Along one wall was a perfectly made twin bed.  The blanket was tight and the sheet was folded back along the top edge.  A single fluffy pillow invited Victor to lay down, but he was on a mission.  He opened the closet on the wall opposite the bed.  Inside he found a few pairs of pants, several shirts, and two sport coats.  The clothes were old, but well kept.  He pulled a pair of green heavy duty cargo work pants, a tee shirt and a khaki work shirt out of the closet and tossed them onto the bed.  Next he pulled out the tweed sports jacket.  It was out of fashion, with patches over the elbows and a slightly larger than modern collar, but it looked warm and it looked like it would fit.

It turns out the clothes were all about one size too large, but its not like anyone was going to be judging him.  He slid the tweed jacket on, emptied his pockets out of his old pants into his new ones and laid his still slightly damp clothes out to dry.  Over beside the desk he found an old beat up school-book style backpack and laid it out next to his clothes.  He needed to ask the Rotelles if he could have it.  Judging by the clothes, no one had been actually using this room since the early nineties.  There was a Lethal Weapon 3 poster hanging just above the desk, and a Right Said Fred CD sitting on the desk next to a CD player.  Victor hit the eject button on the CD player, inside was Marky Mark and the Funky Bunch.

“This guy had great taste in music,” said Victor as he walked out the door and back down the steps.

When Victor stepped out into the dining room of the old mansion, Leeland stood up from the table and walked towards him.  He stuck his hand out and said “Leeland Rotelle, nice to meet you young man.”  Victor shook his hand.

“Victor Tookes, sir.  It’s a pleasure to meet you too,” he said, looking at Mrs. Rotelle who was smiling happily.  She gave no indication that anything was out of the ordinary.

“Come in, Victor deary.  Supper is ready.  I’m afraid it’s not much, the cook didn’t come in, and apparently he hasn’t been to the grocery in a while.”  She took the lids off three different pots, one contained steamed white rice, the other stewed tomatoes and okra, and the third had something that looked like ground beef and onions.  Victor wasn’t sure where they would have gotten all this fresh food, but the had to have power in the house.  They weren’t using any lights, but maybe their freezer was working.  There were lots of unanswered questions.  Victor hadn’t heard a generator running when he was walking by.  Keeping a generator running constantly for six months would have consumed a massive amount of fuel.  Who was doing that work? Who was defending the house?

Victor debated asking those questions.  It wasn’t really any of his business, if these two were happy and surviving, did he need to interfere with their delusion?  Perhaps they were better off forgetting all the loss and death.  Maybe they had it right.  He sat down at the table across from the Rotelles and folded his hands in his lap.

“Leeland, would you say the blessing?” Mrs. Rotelle asked.

Leeland held his hands out.  Victor took one hand; Mother Rotelle took the other, and extended her other hand to Victor who completed the circle.  He’d never been a religious man, but when in Rome, as the saying went.  “Kind Father, please accept these thanks for the bounty you have provided.  Please keep an eye on our friends and family wherever they travel.  Please be kind to those less fortunate than us.  Please continue to bless this house and all those in it, in Max’s name we pray, Amen.”

Victor was stunned.  He thought back to the group of survivors that had held Max a few miles from his house in Virginia.  “Did you say in Max’s name?” he asked, after nearly a minute of sitting there dumbfounded.

“We had the nicest guest last week,” said Mrs. Rotelle.  “He told us all about the coming of  Max, and how the little boy had come to save us.  He told us about how The Boy’s father had stolen him away from their loving embrace, and with that action plunged the world into darkness and despair.  What was that devil’s name, Leeland?  We were supposed to be on the lookout for him.”

Victor slowly moved his hand to his hip and loosened the snap on his gun quietly.

“Victor something,” said Leeland.  “Jukes? Dukes?  Tookes.  Yea, that was it.  Victor Tookes.”

Both of the Rotelles looked at Victor long and hard.  “Didn’t you say your name was Victor?” asked Mother Rotelle.

“Yes Ma’am,” said Victor slowly.  He slid the gun slightly out of its holster, his finger on the trigger under the table.

“What a coincidence,” she said clapping her hands together. “Would you like some rice?”  She picked up the pot and passed it to Victor.

Tookes slid the gun back into its holster and sighed softly before taking the pot from her.  He spooned a third of the rice out onto his plate.  He had so many questions, but if either of them remembered his name and put two and two together, he would be in trouble.  He didn’t want to kill them, they were mostly harmless, if slightly deranged.  They were someone’s grandparents, or someone’s friends, and they were mislead by a charlatan.

“On Sunday we’re going to church,” said Mother Rotelle.  “You’re welcome to come with us.”

“I appreciate your offer, but I actually need to be moving along in the morning.  I appreciate all your hospitality.  In the bedroom upstairs, I found an empty book bag, would it be alright if I borrowed that?  I have a long way to go to get back to my son, and I’ll need a backpack to carry some food and water.”

“Oh, sure, deary.  Ronald hasn’t used that backpack in years.  I’d love to see it getting some use, it was an expensive bag.”

“Thank you, Mrs. Rotelle,” Said Victor spooning stewed tomatoes and okra over his rice.  “And thank you for this fine meal, and the clothes.  I feel like a new man.”

As they ate they talked about simple things.  Victor struggled not to break their delusion, and gain as much information as he could.  He learned that the man who had come to see them was a middle aged black man who wore a white robe.  He was one of many prophets of Max.  He was travelling the country telling anyone he could find about the coming of Max, a God-Child who would save them all from this life

“Do you two have any children?” Victor asked at one point.

Leeland frowned as he said, “We have two sons, Nick and Nathaniel.  Nick works for a television show, out in California.  Nathaniel left right after the Prophet; he went out to spread the gospel of Max.”

Victor ate the rest of his meal in silent contemplation.  He had so much to think about.  Those freaks in Reva had spread lies about him, and were holding Max up as the savior of mankind.  Was this a new religion?  How could he use this?

At the end of the meal, he helped carry the dishes into the kitchen and set them down beside the sink.  The kitchen was spotless, as he expected.

Victor asked, “Mrs. Rotelle, what can I do to earn my keep? I don’t want to feel like a beggar, but I’m not sure what I could do for you.  I don’t see anything that needs to be fixed around here.”

“If you’d be willing to run some errands for me tomorrow, I need a few things from the market.  The kitchen is horribly under stocked.”

“Sure, Mrs. Rotelle, do you have a list? I may not be able to find everything, but I’ll do my best.  The last time I was in a grocery store the shelves were getting pretty bare.”  Victor tried not to chuckle as he said it.

“Oh, I’m sure you’ll be able to find what we need, deary.  We have one of those mega-marts.  They even have collards in January.  I guess they bring them up from Mexico or something.”

“I’ll do my best ma’am.  I appreciate your hospitality.  Supper was delicious,” said Victor taking a plate from her and drying it.  “Where does this go?”

“Second cabinet on the left,” she said, pointing to the cabinet.

Victor opened the door and sat the plate inside.  He dried each dish, once again thinking about all he’d learned here.  “We cannot change our past. We cannot change the fact that people act in a certain way. We cannot change the inevitable. The only thing we can do is play on the one card we have, and that is our attitude,” Leeland had said to him.

He thought about Candi, and how much he wanted to change the past.  He wondered if he’d done something differently if he’d have been able to save her.  She was dead because he made the choice to run that road block.  He wasn’t careful enough.  If he’d been smarter or faster or stronger maybe she’d still be alive.  If he’d killed every zombie along the way instead of running, she’d still be alive.  His resolve firmed, the fire in his belly burned through the thoughts of how comfortable it was here.

When he finished drying the dishes, he took his leave of the Rotelles.  If its alright with the two of you, I’m going to go up and go to sleep.  It’s been a long day, and I’m exhausted.”

“Ok, sleep well deary!  Tomorrow will be a better day,” said Mother Rotelle.

Only if I kill a few zombies,” thought Victor as he climbed the steps.

“Hey, Son.  Remember, all you have is your attitude.”

Victor sat down on the bed, and closed his eyes.  He shifted his head to the north, as he thought “Max, are you there?

Hi Daddy!” replied Max.

I’m not going to make it back to the train tonight.  I ran into some trouble, and I’m staying at a very nice ladies house.

I know, Miss Leo stopped by the train.  She took all of her stuff Dad.  She said she wasn’t coming back.  How come she left?”

“I said some things to her that I shouldn’t have, Buddy.  I would like to apologize to her, but I can’t find her now.  Tomorrow I have to find a truck and get back to the train.”

“Oh, Poppy will be so happy to see you.  Uncle Marshall found him!  Uncle Marshall and Poppy got back here today.  We’re waiting for you at the place you said you’d meet us.”

Holy cow! Marshall found Poppy!  That’s great news!  How is he? How does he look?”

He looks like Poppy.  He was sad that you weren’t here, but I gave him a kiss and told him you would be back soon.

I’ll meet you tomorrow.  Maxmonster, can you tell Uncle Marshall something for me?  Tell him I think there’s a shot that kills the bugs in that fort.  He needs to get it before you leave tomorrow.

Daddy, my bugs said that shot didn’t work.

I know buddy, but it did make them sick.  We’re going to need every advantage we can get.”

Ok, I’ll tell him.” said Max.  “I like your haircut.

You can see my hair?” Victor asked.

Yes, I can see in your head when you saw yourself in the mirror when the grandpa was finished cutting it.

4.01 Alone

Victor Tookes trudged up the beach feeling very alone. It had been a long time since he’d been out on his own, with no backup anywhere.  “She’s just mad, she probably went off somewhere to think and to prove a point,” he thought as he struggled through the deep, loose sand.   Just in case she came back he dug out a large deep arrow in the sand, piling sticks and trash in the trench to indicate his direction of travel.   The rain made the surface of the sand seem much more firm than it was.  Months of wind and rain and lack of maintenance had left the resort beach in its natural state, covered in seaweed and debris from the ocean.  Trash was piled up at the high water line.  Since there was no one working at the resort to remove the dead sea life that washed ashore it smelled of rotting fish.  Not that it really mattered what it looked or smelled like.  There wasn’t anyone left alive who would enjoy a lazy day laying out at the beach.  Victor thought to himself, “There weren’t any lazy days for those of us who are left, either.”  Today was not the kind of day anyone would be on the beach anyway.  The cold rain was picking up; now it was a steady downpour.  The wind was bringing cold air in, the temperature felt like it had dropped ten degrees while he was standing there.  At this rate it would turn to snow by nightfall.

Victor was pretty sure he could see a few human corpses along the beach too, but it was hard to tell from a distance, between the bloat and discoloration caused by months at sea and the subsequent rot from laying in the sun.  It wasn’t unlikely that six months after a sentient parasite that turned humans into zombies invaded the planet a few corpses would wash ashore.  Seeing corpses laying around was the least of Victor’s worries, it was the ones that stood up and walked that he had to be concerned about.  Victor was one of the lucky ones.  A genetic marker passed from parent to child for thousands of years made Victor immune to the parasite.  It gave him abilities far beyond what he’d had as a normal human before he’d  been infected, but he was still human.  He still felt pain, although physical pain was something he was much more adept at dealing with.  He seldom allowed himself time to reflect on the emotional toll this had taken on him, out of fear of completely breaking down.  A mental breakdown was something he didn’t have time for.  There was so much to do and no one else to do it.

Every single human he’d encountered outside of his own group of survivors were barely able to keep themselves alive.  It was only due to luck and timing that he and Max made it to the relative safety of his mother’s house before the worst of the apocalypse.  Victor, his brother, and his friends John and Leo and a few survivors had spent the first two months fortifying their property.  While the rest of the world was dying, they were building a safe place.  Victor’s son Max had the ability to shield the house from the eyes of the zombie lieutenants.  Max’s abilities were the reason the zombie leadership wanted to get their hands on him.

When a normal immune person was bitten by a zombie, their body fought off the E’Clai.  The chemistry of their brain was altered by the invading creatures, causing the parasite to die.  Whatever pathways in the brain the ‘bugs’ connected stayed connected, even after the parasites were dead.  Those pathways, those parts of the brain that were disconnected in normal humans were what allowed Victor to see people’s auras, to see what action a person was going to take before it happened, and to talk to his friends over vast distances.  They’re what gave his brother Marshall super human strength.  They’re what gave Leo the ability to teleport herself and others over vast distances, and they’re what gave John  his uncanny abilities with weapons.   They’d learned the hard way that use of those abilities drew zombies to them like moths to a flame.  Victor thought it was probably an innate response to draw the slow, stupid zombies towards the more powerful lieutenants.

They’d recently found out that Victor’s half-sister Renee was also immune, which meant the immunity was handed down through his mother.  Renee was still learning to control her abilities.  So far she had the ability to make herself invisible, even to Victor, and she was fast.  She could outrun most cars, and while Leo was faster than Renee, Leo had had much more experience and exposure to zombies.  Victor wasn’t sure what caused the gradual enhancement of abilities he and his friends had experienced.  He’d spent weeks trying to puzzle out if use made one stronger, or if it was continued exposure to the parasites.  Each person seemed to have gifts in specific areas, although he wasn’t sure how each ability was assigned.  They’d each met others with their exact abilities.  Everyone, regardless of specific ability seemed to gain enhanced healing to some degree or another.  Victor and Leo both healed very quickly.  Victor’s nearly severed arm healed in minutes.

Kris was the only person he’d met so far that appeared to have unique abilities.  Her ability to control and manipulate sound waves was not something he’d encountered in anyone else, nor did Victor believe that was all she was capable of.  Just the previous day she created a huge dome covering dozens of acres of land and contained a massive explosion within, amplifying the heat and pressure waves as it bounced off the inside of the dome.  Victor had barely been able to hold the heat and pressure off of himself and his friends trapped inside the inferno.  All of the skin had been burned off of Victor’s back as he laid on top of his friends trying to protect them.  His fleece vest had melted into his skin, and hours ago had to be forcefully ripped from his back.  New skin covered his back now, but it was still very raw.  The cold wind-driven rain and sand felt like tiny needles driving into his flesh as he reached the road at the top of the beach.

Prioritize,” he thought to himself.  “You gotta get it together.”  He’d promised Max he would come home that night.  That gave him roughly half the day to look for Kris before he started the trip up to Fort McPherson, where his brother was due to meet them in a few hours.   Victor had always worked well under pressure, both in his real life job and in this horror of a world he occupied now.  The first concern is always security these days, he needed to find a truck and get moving.  “Alright Tookes.  Your priorities are security, timing, water, and food.  Find a truck, get moving.  That’s step one.  Step two, follow the coast west looking for Kris.  Step three, get back to the train.”  He always felt better when he had a plan.

Standing at the edge of the road, movement caught his eye.  He immediately switched his eyes to what he called his “aura view”, but saw no sign of life.  The rain streamed down his face, chilling him to the bone.  “Fucking zombies,” he said out loud.  Zombies didn’t have auras.  If he looked very closely he could sometimes see something he could only describe as an anti-aura.  It was like a hole where some spark should be.    He expanded his own aura around himself and solidified it as he drew his gun from its holster and pulled his hatchet from its loop on the right side of his belt.  “Come on out,” he said loudly.  “Either way I’m going to kill you, so you might as well take it like a man,” he boasted, mostly to help his own self confidence.  Trash talking was his version of a Maori Haka, a war dance John had told him about that preceded rugby matches used to hype up the players and get the adrenaline flowing.

A little girl, about seven years old stepped out from between two cars.  “Please don’t hurt me,” she said, slowly walking towards him with her hands out.  “I’m so hungry, I haven’t eaten in days.”  She was absolutely beautiful.  Her face was smeared with dirt, the rain water was running down her face washed clean streaks through the grime.  her long blonde hair was grungy and stringy.  She had huge bright blue eyes, the kind that most children lose when they’re three or four years old.  She was wearing a long wet, dirty night-shirt that came to her ankles and clung to her as she walked.  Her feet were bare as she splashed through a puddle.

She walked towards Victor very slowly.  Victor was sure this trick had worked for her with a lot of survivors.  He pulled the trigger on his Sig Saur p226, firing a huge .40 caliber bullet into her tiny skull.   “Humans have auras, and a human would have been shivering in this cold.” he said as he passed the tiny corpse bleeding out on the pavement.

“I hope you can find some peace now,” Victor said sadly.  Then he added “The peace you stole from us,” as he stepped over the corpse.  The instant his foot hit the pavement on the other side of the dead zombie-girl, three more zombies stepped out from behind the cars.

“What the hell did you do that for?” The first one said.

The two zombies standing in front of him were both middle aged men.  One was wearing a very new suit; Victor could still see the creases in the shirt from being folded up in the package.   His hair was salt and pepper, closely cropped and well styled.  The other was wearing khaki pants and a red checked button up shirt, also still creased from sitting on the shelf in the store, and had longer hair parted on the side.  Victor wondered what they’d been like when they were alive.  Suit-zombie might have been anything.  The clothes had obviously been picked out by the parasites in his brain.  Picked for a reason, to make him look as human as possible.  What they didn’t know, or were unable to comprehend was that no one wore a suit to an apocalypse party.

“She was a zombie, just like you are,” said Victor feeling rage rise in him.  Thoughts of Candi’s dead body in the front seat of his truck danced before his eyes.  Her blood on the dashboard and seat was bright red in his memory.  His anger felt justified and the idea of dismembering these zombies slowly seemed very satisfying.  He squeezed the trigger again.  Another corpse hit the ground.  “Oh,” Said Victor with mock sadness in his voice.  “Only two zombies left, that’s hardly a fair fight for you.” Victor smiled and paused for a second. “Here, I’ll put my gun away,” he said putting his sidearm in its army-green plastic thigh holster.

Suit zombie moved first, running towards Victor’s right side.  The second came from the other side just behind.  Victor watched the suit decide to try and grab for his arms so the other could bite him.  Victor knew they would die the second they touched his aura.  Killing zombies with his aura seemed to use up his energy or wear him out somehow.  This was just two; not enough to weaken his aura, but he didn’t want this fight to end that quickly.  He let his aura dissipate and decided to take these two on without using any abilities.  He brought his empty hand in front of him, turned slightly to the right and readied his hatchet.

Suit zombie grabbed Victor’s free forearm. Victor brought the hatchet down in a strong over hand chop, slicing the flesh just above the elbow.  The force of the blow shattered the unfortunate zombie’s upper arm bone,  completely severing the arm. The hand continued to clutch Victor’s wrist, as blood pumped out of the zombie it had been attached to.  The second zombie was coming from his offhand side.  Victor moved gracefully to the side and swept his offhand arm upward, smashing suit-zombies severed arm into number two’s jaw.  As he moved, his soaking wet hair covered his face.  He slung his head to the side whipping his wet hair out of his face, revealing the fury in his eyes.

There was an animal pleasure in beating these two corpses to death.  Victor had so much emotion bottled up inside.  These creatures had caused so much pain and he had so much hatred and animosity towards them.  He expressed all that emotion now through violence.  And it felt good.  “What are you going to do to me?” he said, smashing one-armed suit zombie in the face with his fist.  “You’ve taken my wife, you’ve taken the life I had built for myself, threatened everything I love, and left me with nothing, save my mission to rid the world of every one of you.”

The two attackers had backed off now, waiting for some opportunity to attack.  Some opening in the enraged man’s defenses.  Victor presented none as he circled with them. He was battle hardened, and had a lot of experience fighting zombies much tougher than these.  Tookes drove forward, lunging at the checkered shirt.  They grappled, wrapping their arms around each other.  Max’s father brought his knee up into the groin of his opponent.  He pummeled the zombies face like a heavyweight boxer.  Punch after punch landed home.  The zombie was stunned by the blows, and Victor took full advantage.  Every blow opened the flesh on its face.  Both eyes were cutThe suit used that to try and bite the back of Tooke’s neck.  Of course, the human fighter knew that was coming, zombies were nothing if not predictable.  Present them a target, they always take it.  He dropped down and rolled backwards, launching his opponent with his legs into the suit zombie.  The two corpses crashed in mid-air, knocking them both to the ground.

Victor feigned exhaustion as he got to his feet, letting his arm and hatchet drop slightly.  He pretended to breathe heavily to lure  the two of them in, and the plan worked perfectly.  Victor swung the hatchet sideways at head level.  The blade buried itself in suit-zombie’s skull.  “And then there was one!” said Victor as he wrenched the hatchet free.

“You’re one fuckin’ crazy dude,” said the remaining zombie as he turned and ran.  Victor slid his bloody hatchet into its ring and drew his gun.  He slowly lined up the sights on the barrel and squeezed off one round.  The last zombie was fast.  In those few seconds he’d managed to make it over a hundred yards.  John would have made the shot easily, but Victor watched the zombie twist, then stumble and hit the ground.  His aim was true but the bullet was low, hitting the lieutenant in the spine just below the shoulder.  Victor closed the distance and fired one more shot.  Blood and brains exploded outward creating red and gray rainbow around the remnants of his skull.

He searched all three zombies, but found no keys.  He was in the middle of a city, finding a vehicle was going to be hard.  He knew he wouldn’t last long out in this weather, especially once the sun was gone.  He walked west down the middle of an empty street, through an empty city.  Other than the steady drumming of the rain on the asphalt, the only other noise was the occasional zombie pounding on a store or upstairs apartment window.   He tried not to think about how it felt to kill those zombies, he needed to get himself back in check.