RABID: PART FOUR

Genre: Horror (Zombies)

RECAP: Friday, September 13, 2013 was the dawn of the apocalypse.

Strange reports started filtering in from Long Island, New York. The Daily Buzz–a Manhattan-based publication–sent Ryan Slater to cover the story. Ryan is an ex-cop who got stuck working for the Buzz after an unfortunate incident led to his dismissal with the NYPD.

Jackson Creed (commonly referred to as Jax), an ex-marine who craves a life of action, gets his wish when the virus spreads throughout his Long Island town.

A registered nurse named Brenda Barker sees an older man collapse outside a Long Island café. She tries to revive him, but the heart attack proves to be fatal. The man comes back to life, and goes on a feeding frenzy. Brenda barely escapes with her life.

Evan Larson blows up a stolen car in order to fend off a horde of zombies that had him surrounded. Little is known about Evan at this point. He is a young man who is quiet but resourceful.

The blast gains Ira Schillinger’s attention. Ira used to work in construction, but was fired for drinking on the job. Ira and Evan form an alliance, and try to flee Long Island via train.

They encounter Lance Mathis, the man whose car Evan coincidentally blew up. The three of them agree to stick together when they learn the virus has spread throughout New York. Their train is rerouted, as they receive instructions to avoid NYC. The conductor is instructed to bring all survivors to the Massapequa station, so they can be transferred to Sunrise Mall.

Military personnel escort survivors to Sunrise Mall, where they have food and shelter. The military set up tents, including a medical tent for emergencies and stand guard outside the mall in shifts.

In the mall, the survivors converge. A small group of survivors forms an alliance to guarantee their survival in the event of a crisis. Jax and Ira facilitate this alliance with Evan, Lance, two comic book nerds named Mac and TK, and a girl named Allison Shane who has an affinity for horror movies.

Ryan Slater finds more than a story when he arrives in Long Island and is escorted to Sunrise Mall. He and Brenda Barker are eventually “recruited” by the group. Slater loses contact with his editor and his co-workers as the plague spreads throughout New York.

Lance, an ex-con who can’t keep his thoughts or opinions to himself, does not endear himself to the group. Though, he chooses to stick with them for his own safety.

Several vans arrive outside the mall and a group of protestors form. An altercation with the military ensues. The noise attracts the zombies, who flock to the mall in droves. The military are eventually overrun and the survivors face a major threat…

RABID

By Daniel Skye

PART FOUR: LEFT FOR DEAD

DAY SIX.

Sunrise Mall.

Massapequa, New York.

The entrances could no longer hold. Horrified spectators shielded their eyes as the glass exploded from the immense pressure and the dead came pouring in.

Most of them had been dead no more than a few days, but they already exhibited advanced signs of rot and decay.

Ryan Slater felt someone tugging at his sleeve, trying to pull him from behind. He turned back and saw Allison Shane’s lips moving, but could not hear her words over the cacophony of deafening screams. The rest of the group were already on the move and Allison didn’t want to fall behind. She motioned for Ryan to follow her, and he didn’t have to think twice about it.

The safety net had dropped. The military was no longer a factor. The troop that was dispatched to guard the perimeter didn’t stand a chance. But they showed tremendous courage. Not a single one of them retreated. They went out in a hail of bullets.

The influx of the undead created a whirlpool of insanity. People were running, pushing and shoving, knocking each other down, searching frantically for their loved ones, or searching for an exit that wasn’t engulfed by a horde of the undead.

Others saw this as an opportunity to loot and rob the place blind. And the group Ryan Slater had aligned himself with was no different. Only they weren’t stealing TVs or blenders or designer clothes.

Jax was vehemently against stealing. So was Ira Schillinger. But this wasn’t about comfort or desire. This was a matter of survival. And for that reason only, they were able to look past it.

And Lance Mathis, who was still tagging along, had no gripe with petty theft. Stealing is what he did best. People like Lance cheat and steal their way through life, and they usually get away with it.

They followed Jackson Creed’s lead. Their first stop was a department store, where the only thing they swiped was duffel bags. Then they split off momentarily.

Evan Larson, Mac, TK, and Brenda Barker hit the pharmacy for medical supplies. Brenda, a registered nurse, knew exactly what to look for. Jax led the others to the mini-mart, where they loaded their bags with as much food and bottled water they could carry.

They all rendezvoused outside the mini-mart. “Stay close together. We’re going to make it out of here alive.”

Along the way, Allison stopped by an unmanned convenience store kiosk and loaded her bag with every pack of cigarettes she could grab.

“Relax, I’m going to share,” Allison assured the group.

The zombies were scattered throughout the first floor. They were everywhere now. Too many to even count.

Lance guffawed at the sight of a rather hefty individual who was so out of shape he could not even outrun the zombies. The man stopped to catch his breath and four of them swooped in like vultures. His ghastly screams could not convey the horror the group was witnessing as they saw a man being torn to shreds. Brenda averted her eyes. She had seen some gruesome sights in her time as a nurse, but this was one for the books.

“Let’s go,” Ira said. “We can’t save everyone.”

“Yeah and it’s no big loss,” Lance shrugged. “One less fat fuck in the world.”

Ira gritted his teeth. He balled up one fist, then sighed and straightened his fingers. Everyone deserved a chance, he thought. Even a scumbag like Lance. He disregarded Lance’s insensitive comment and they kept on moving.

But they stopped and turned back again when they heard the screams. Lance was sprawled out on the tiled floor. One of the zombies was gnawing at his right leg, tearing the sinew from his femur. Another was biting the side of his face, ripping the flesh from his cheek. A third was chomping at his forearm.

“We can’t help him,” Jax said. “We have to keep moving.”

As the group went on, Evan ran back to retrieve Lance’s bag for the excess supplies. Evan hunched over and whispered to Lance, “I’m the one who blew up your car. My bad.” 

Brenda Barker was a registered nurse. Her first instinct was to help those in need. Everywhere she looked, she saw chaos, carnage, and bloodshed. She wanted to jump in and be the hero. But she wasn’t about to split off from the group.

Jax spotted a clear exit sandwiched between a Starbucks and an AT&T store. They made a break for it, circling around the building until they reached the military tents. There had been a tent set up for medical emergencies and the group helped themselves to all the supplies they could carry.

They circumvented the maimed bodies of the protestors and fallen soldiers, and commandeered one of the vans that belonged to the protestors. The keys were still dangling in the ignition. But not before relieving a few of the soldiers of their AK-47s. Jax couldn’t help but feel guilty about stealing from his fallen brothers, but if they were going to survive, they needed weapons.

“Where the hell are we going?” Brenda asked.

“I know a place where we can hole up for a while,” TK said, referring to his store. “It’s one town over.”

With Jax behind the wheel, TK instructed him to head west on Sunrise Highway.

The eight of them, all crammed into one van, drove to Seaford and parked behind TK’s comic store.

He unlocked the backdoor and let everyone in. He made sure to lock it behind them. Then he drew the window shades and unrolled three comic book posters he had for sale. He taped the posters to the door so nobody could peek inside.

Brenda adjusted her leopard print bracelet and asked to borrow anyone’s phone. Ryan was happy to help her out.

“Here,” he said, holding his phone out with one hand. “Maybe you’ll have better luck than I did.”

Brenda thanked him and accepted the phone. She tried to reach her folks out in Florida, but nobody picked up on their end. The phone just kept ringing.

Then she tried her brother out in Texas. No luck there, either.

“Ira, Jax, help me move this display case. We need something to barricade the door.”

Jax and Ira lent TK a hand moving a huge display case packed with the latest Walking Dead issues and trade paperbacks.

Once they had the door blocked, the group took a look around for the first time. “Seriously,” Ryan said. “Comic books?”

“What’s wrong with comics?” TK shrugged.

“Yeah, what’s wrong with them?” Alice joined in.

“I don’t know, it’s just so…juvenile.”

“I like you, so I’ll pretend you didn’t say that,” Alice said.

“This is it?” Ira asked. “I mean, yeah we blocked the door. But you saw what happened at the mall. What if those things break the glass?”

“It’s not Fort Knox,” TK said. “But there’s a basement, no windows. And it’s huge. Enough room for all of us to set up camp and ride this out. We’ll be safe down there.”

“How secure is the basement?” Jax asked.

“We’ll be surrounded by four walls of reinforced concrete. I’d say that’s pretty secure. And the only entrance to the basement is through that door.” TK pointed with one finger towards the door behind the counter marked EMPLOYEES ONLY. “There’s no outside entrance.”

“I vote we stay,” Mac said. “I’m not going back out there if you pay me.”

“I vote we stay too,” Jax said. “For now. At least until this mess is sorted out.”

“Are you kidding me?” Brenda Barker said. “You saw what happened back at the mall. The military couldn’t contain the situation. No matter how many of those things they take down, more just keep popping up. There’s no stopping it now.”

“I hate to say it,” Ira said, “but I think she’s right.”

“Conjecture and speculation won’t help the situation,” Ryan said. “I agree that we should just wait it out. And if Brenda is right, then we’ll reassess the situation. Until then, let’s not assume the worst.”

“So how are we going to pass the time?” Mac shrugged.

“I’ve got some board games in the basement…” TK said.

“Oh, God, I hope they find a cure,” Ryan sighed.

* * *

DAY EIGHT.

They kept the radio on twety-four-seven. But every station was broadcasting the same prerecorded message from the emergency broadcasting system.

Mac was flipping through the stations when they finally picked something up. At first, it was just dead air. But then they heard a man’s voice, clear as day. Mac thought he was having auditory hallucinations before the others spoke up and acknowledged the message too.

“If you’re out there and you’re listening to this, bravo. You’ve managed to survive this long. That’s the good news. And that’s as far as the good news goes. Ready for the bad news? The bad news is we’re fucked, my friends. Totally fucked. Shit, fucked ain’t even the right word to describe the kind of fuckery that’s transpired. Well, strap in and get ready for the bad news. It’s not just New York. It’s not just Texas. It’s not just California or New Mexico. It’s the whole damn world.

It’s happening in China. It’s happening in France. It’s happening all over the United Kingdom. It spread around the world in less than a day. And that’s not the worst part. The CDC have not released this information. But you don’t need their verification. Take it from me. We’re all infected.

You don’t need no zombies biting your ass in order for you to turn. If you die from a gunshot wound or a heart attack or you slip on a bar of soap and crack your head up, you’ll turn. If you die, you come back as one of them. I’ve seen it with my own eyes. And if you’re listening to this, you probably have to. But for those of you that haven’t, be warned. Whatever this virus is, we’re all infected.

Massive trauma to the brain seems to be the only way to keep these suckers down. In other words, aim for the head. But anyone who’s seen a decent zombie movie can tell you that one. I’ve recorded this transmission and I’m going to broadcast it until I lose the signal. You may hear from me again. You may not. But good luck and Godspeed. This is DJ Apocalypse, signing out.”

A prolonged silence ensued. Their eyes drifted back and forth, looking over one another, watching the hope drain from their bodies. Mac was the first to break the silence.

“He’s right,” Mac said. “We’re fucked. What are we supposed to do now?”

“Survive,” Jax told him.

To Be Continued With Part Five: WHAT COMES NEXT?

RABID: PART THREE

Genre: Horror (Zombies)

RABID

By Daniel Skye

PART THREE: THE FALL

DAY SIX.

Sunrise Mall.

Massapequa, New York.

“I just realized something,” Ira told Jackson as he bummed a cigarette. Jax was running low, but he didn’t mind sharing while he had them. He passed one to Ira and then lit one for himself.

“What is it?” Jax asked. They were standing behind a magazine kiosk, trying to avoid Lance Mathis. Ira was still fighting the urge to punch that racist jackass in the throat.

“I haven’t had a drink in five days now.”

“Okay,” Jax said, shrugging his shoulders. “And this means…?”

“Jax, I’m an alcoholic.”

Ira Schillinger’s confession lingered in the air for a moment. Jackson Creed was not one to pass judgment. Everyone has their own internal demons to battle. And sometimes those demons have demons of their own.

“You don’t have to tell me this,” Jax said. “I won’t think any less of you.”

“Well that makes one of us. Being an alcoholic has cost me countless jobs, friends, girlfriends, and it has ruined relationships with family members. As horrible as it is to say, this whole situation could be the best thing to happen to me in years. I’ve been sober for five days. And I’m not backsliding. I’m not regressing. I’m done drinking.”

“You picked a hell of a time to quit drinking,” Jax said. “But I support your decision.” He finished his cigarette and stamped it out with the heel of his boot.

“Do you think it’s over?” Ira asked. “The world, I mean. Do you think this is the end?”

“No,” Jax said vehemently. “The military will take care of business. And the CDC will figure out what’s causing it. They’ll engineer a cure. You’ll see.” Jax seemed certain. But he wasn’t sure if he was trying to convince Ira, or himself.

* * *

Ryan Slater called every co-worker in his phonebook. Not one of them returned his calls. Not his boss, Francis Laymon. Not Todd Noonan, who sat in the opposite cubicle. Or Johnson, whose assignment Ryan had been stuck with. Johnson, with the bad case of dysentery. Laymon could have spared Ryan the personal details of Johnson’s ailment, but Laymon was a contemptuous prick after all.

He ventured to the food court that morning and Allison Shane approached him at the coffee bar. She had taken a keen interest in Slater.

“What’s your story?” Alice asked.

“What makes you think I have a story?” Ryan replied.

“Everyone has a story.”

“Very true. But is every story worth telling?”

“I’ll be the judge of that.”

“Fine. I was a cop for ten years. I worked my way up to vice, then homicide. Then I was forced out. They let me keep a quarter of my pension, and I ended up working as a reporter for the Daily Buzz. And that’s why I’m currently here talking to you.”

“What do you mean you were forced out? You mean they fired you?”

“I don’t think you’re ready to hear that story. We don’t know each other well enough.”

“We can change that,” Alice said. “We’ve formed a small group. You should stick with us. Just in case things take a turn for the worst.”

“There’s always safety in numbers,” Ryan said. “Sure, why not? Lead the way. Let’s meet your group.”

* * *

Jackson Creed was so bored he found himself counting ceiling tiles to pass the time. When he found the energy, he’d wander to the front and side entrances and watch the MP’s who were standing guard, hoping to catch a glimpse of them gunning down a zombie or two. But he’d always make his way back to the food court to keep track of the others.

Evan Larson was keeping to himself while still sticking close to the group. He was a young kid, about as young as Mac and TK. However, the precipitating events of this calamity had no effect on him. Evan seemed unfazed by the lingering presence of the undead. Ira Schillinger viewed him as an anomaly, an enigma. And he knew that could make Evan a valuable asset to the group. Or it could make him a very dangerous threat.

Lance Mathis took this opportunity to collect a few souvenirs. Though, he didn’t pay for any of them. He used the old five-finger discount. Lance didn’t view it as stealing. Things were spiraling out of control. The world as they knew it was changing. And soon, money would be obsolete. So what did it matter to Lance if helped himself to a few trinkets? And Ira Schillinger expected no different from an ex-con like Mathis.

And Mac and TK took this temporary inconvenience as an opportunity to pick up chicks. Or try to, at least.

It was on the mezzanine floor where TK spotted Brenda Barker. It wasn’t just her slim figure, shapely legs, or chestnut hair that caught TK’s eye. It was her leopard print bracelet.

“Is that a slap-on bracelet?” TK couldn’t help but ask.

“Yeah,” Brenda said and nearly blushed.

“Man, I haven’t seen one of those since the 90’s. Sorry, I’m just very nostalgic. I love anything that can be considered retro or old fashioned.” He chuckled nervously.

“That makes two of us,” Brenda smiled benevolently. “I grew up in the 90’s and I’ve had it all these years. I’m surprised it still fits around my wrist.”

“Are you here by yourself?” TK asked. His subtle way of inquiring about her relationship status.

“Afraid so,” she said. “My bastard of an ex-boyfriend cheated on me. So I kicked his ass to the curb months ago. And my family is scattered all around the country. My parents live in Florida. My brother lives in Texas. I have an aunt in Montana and a cousin in Illinois. And I’ve only been able to reach my brother. I can only hope everyone else is alright.”

“I’m sure they are,” TK tried to comfort her.

“Thanks. But I’d feel better if they’d call me back.”

“Don’t worry, you’ll hear from them soon, I bet. And I bet in a few days this will all be over. I can’t believe I’m saying this, but I can’t wait to get back to work.”

“What do you do?” she asked. “Well, what did you do before the shit suddenly hit the fan?”

“I like a woman who cusses,” he said. “I owned a comic shop in Seaford. It’s not much, but at least I owned it. What did you do?”

“I was, and still am, a registered nurse.”

A light went off in TK’s head. “A nurse, huh?”

* * *

“Guys, I’d like you to meet Brenda Barker,” TK said to the rest of the group. “She’s a registered nurse. And I think she’d make a great addition to our group.”

“Pleasure to meet you,” Jax spoke first. “And we’d be happy to have you. I’m Jackson, but you can call me Jax.”

Jax went around the food court table and introduced the others. “This is Ira Schillinger.”

“Pleased to meet you,” Ira said.

“And that’s Allison Shane, but everybody calls her Alice.”

“Hiya,” Alice waved.

“And next to Alice is Ryan Slater, another new addition to our group.”

“How you doing?” Ryan nodded at Brenda.

“And that’s Evan Larson.”

“Hey,” Evan said quietly.

“And I have no clue or Mac or Lance are.”

Right on cue, Mac came sprinting towards them. He stopped for a moment and gasped for air. Mac, even at a young age, was not in the best of shape. Considering his diet consisted mostly of Pop-Tarts and Hot Pockets, it was a miracle he could run at all. Once he caught his breath, he broke the news.

“There’s some commotion going on outside,” Mac alerted the group. “Several vans just pulled up.”

Following Mac’s lead, the group marched to the nearest entrance, where a mob of fellow survivors had already formed. Mac forced his way to the front and counted more than a dozen of them.

“Protestors,” he went back and informed the others.

“Protestors?” Alice repeated. “What could they be protesting?”

“The murder of zombies,” Mac said. “They’ve got signs and they’re apparently taking a stand against the military.”

“That’s got to be the dumbest thing I’ve ever heard,” Lance snickered. “They’re already dead. What does it matter if we kill them again?”

“Says who?” Ira asked. “Who are you to decide that?”

“All I’m saying is, if it’s them or me, it sure as hell ain’t gonna be me.”

“I’ve got to see this,” Evan said, forcing his way through the crowd. He made it to the front and saw protestors shouting and holding signs. Signs that said ZOMBIES ARE PEOPLE TOO and GIVE ZOMBIES A CHANCE.

It didn’t take long for things to turn ugly. Military personnel tried to force the protestors to disband. The protestors fought back. The military officers fired their guns in the air as a warning. But the shots only attracted more unwanted visitors.

“Oh, shit,” Evan muttered. He slipped through the crowd and made his way to the back of the line.

“The zombies are attacking the protestors,” he informed the group.

Lance almost barreled over in laughter. He couldn’t stop himself from cackling at the irony of the situation.

There were muffled cries and screams, followed by a series of ear shattering booms. It sounded like firecrackers going off inside a steel trash can. The military was fighting with every weapon at their disposal. But the sound of the gunshots only seemed to attract more and more of the undead.

The men were outnumbered. But none of them retreated. They stood their ground. They fought with everything they had. Unfortunately, the odds were too great to overcome.

The zombies tore their way through the wall of soldiers. And then they turned their attention to the reticent bystanders. The crowd gasped and shrieked as they staggered towards the doors.

The zombies pounded, scratched, clawed against the glass.

“Everyone get back!” one of the spectators shouted. “The glass is not going to hold!”

People were shouting and shoving, pushing their way through the packed corridor. The group cleared out of the way to avoid being trampled. People were fleeing in every direction. But once the zombies were inside those walls, nothing could guarantee their safety.

The doors could no longer hold. The glass exploded, shards flying in every direction.

And an army of the undead spilled through, ready to devour anything in their path.

To Be Continued With Part Four: LEFT FOR DEAD

RABID: PART TWO

Genre: Horror (Zombies)

RABID

By Daniel Skye

PART TWO: FROM AUTUMN TO ASHES

For those of you that are just joining us…

[Changes Station]

…reports are coming in from all over the world…

[Changes Station]

…an unprecedented event…

            [Changes Station]

…and authorities have yet to confirm just how many casualties on the East Coast, but on the West Coast…

[Changes Station]

…I’m being informed that we’re going off the air, as our feed will be replaced by a message from the emergency broadcasting system…

[Changes Station]

…as we’ve received numerous reports of what’s being referred to as “mass resurrection”…

[Changes Station]

…and as the death toll rises to 43 in Florida…

[Changes Station]

…the government has yet to release a statement, but our sources have told us…

[Changes Station]

…reports coming in from Texas, as the death toll rises to 22…

[Changes Station]

…If you’re listening to this broadcast, you must isolate yourself. Try to remain inside. Make sure no one can get to you. Try to avoid neighbors, friends, even relatives who may be carrying the…

[Changes Station]

…CDC is still uncertain if the virus is airborne, but have confirmed the virus is blood borne, transmitted through blood, saliva, especially bite wounds…

            [Changes Station]

…Reports from all over the world have confirmed…

[Changes Station]

…The dead have risen…

[Changes Station]

…The dead are coming back to life…

Brenda Barker clicked the radio off. “I’ll be damned,” Brenda sighed. “It’s on every radio station. It’s all they’re talking about.” But Brenda was talking to an empty room.

She had a habit of talking out loud during tense situations. It calmed her nerves. But how could she remain calm after what she’d seen outside the café, after all the grisly details she’d heard over the radio? Her nerves were screaming.

She sat huddled in the darkest corner of her living room, the curtains all drawn. Every door and window was locked; a baseball bat rested in her lap.

Brenda lived alone, but she had a nephew who loved baseball. The bat was part of his birthday present, but right now, Aunt Brenda needed it more than her nephew did.

She thought about turning on the television, but she figured the news would be no different than the radio. And the TV gave off too much light. She didn’t want anyone to know she was home.

Things were turning ugly out there. People were deteriorating into savages. And the beauty of Autumn was disintegrating into ashes. It wouldn’t be long now before society collapsed. Not unless the military could retain some semblance of order.

Brenda was tired. It came with the responsibility of being a registered nurse. Brenda was usually on call. So that meant plenty of emergency calls and sleepless nights.

Brenda was so tired she barely felt the rumble until the tank was right outside her house. She crawled to the window, lifted the curtain and peeked out.

She saw the tank, saw the armed soldiers marching alongside it, and she scrambled for the door.

The soldiers saw her running towards them and raised their guns as a precautionary measure.

“It’s alright!” Brenda shouted, raising her hands in the air. “I’m not infected! And I’m alone.”

“Ma’am, what are you still doing out here?” one of the soldiers asked.

“I had nowhere else to go, so I’ve been locked inside my house since yesterday afternoon.”

“All homes were supposed to be evacuated,” the soldier explained. “But our boys have had their hands full. Come with us. We’ll make sure you get to Sunrise Mall.”

“Sunrise Mall?”

“Most residents of Nassau County have been relocated there while the situation is contained.”

“And what exactly is the situation?”

“Ma’am, you probably know as much as I do.”

* * *

DAY TWO.

Ryan Slater spent the night trying to process this baffling ordeal. He didn’t sleep a wink. He’d tried to reach Francis Laymon more than ten times with his cell, but Laymon wasn’t picking up his phone or responding to Slater’s text messages.

For all Slater knew, his boss was dead. And as much as he despised the guy, this thought brought him no joy or comfort. It terrified him. Chilled him to the very marrow of his bones. If Laymon was gone, if New York City had fallen, how long would this virus take to spread throughout Long Island?

The others found rest where they could. The military had brought in folding chairs, cots, blowup mattresses, pillows and blankets. But the mall had reached its capacity. And more survivors were still rolling in. So finding a place to sleep was like trying to find a parking spot on Black Friday.

In the morning, Mac and TK walked to the food court where they found the rest of their group. The word group sounded so weird to TK he didn’t even say it aloud. Mac and TK had nothing in common with the other survivors. But Jackson Creed and Ira Schillinger thought it best if they all stuck together. The old safety in numbers theory.

Maybe they were right. Mac and TK knew more about Dr. Who and Superman than they knew about firing a gun. At that moment, the mall offered them shelter. And the military was posted right outside. But what if the virus continued to spread? What if things erupted into chaos and it was every man for themselves? It was in their best interest to stick with the group.

The mall offered a full breakfast buffet. There were steam trays loaded with scrambled eggs, pancakes, sausage, and bacon made Mac’s mouth water. And there were fruits, muffins, bottled water, and juices. But what Allison Shane really craved was coffee. She was a different person without her coffee. And luckily for her–and everyone around her–the mall also had fresh brewed coffee. She had instructed everyone at the table not to speak to her directly until she finished the first cup.

“So you served some time in the military?” Ira asked Jackson.

“What makes you say that?” Jax answered his question with a question.

“I saw the USMC tattoo on your shoulder.”

“Yeah,” Jax sighed. “I was in the military.”

“Iraq?”

“Iraq, Afghanistan, wherever they needed me, that’s where I went.”

“I can see it’s something you don’t like to talk about,” Ira said morosely, regretting that he had broached the subject.

“It’s alright,” Jax assured him. “You serve any time?”

“Nah, not me. But I had a cousin who did two tours of Iraq.”

“I have a theory,” Mac said, interrupting their conversation. “What if they’re not actually zombies? What if they’re just hopped up on bath salts?”

The rest of the table stared at him blankly, silently. “Just a theory,” Mac muttered and shrugged his shoulders as if to say he had nothing else to contribute.

Alice, who had finished her coffee and was starting to perk up, said, “That reporter seems a tad strange.”

“I don’t trust him,” Lance Mathis muttered. “The guy’s name is Ryan Slater. Sounds like a bad name for an action movie star. Where’s Brian Bosworth and Dolph Lundgren when you need ’em?” Lance cackled, an annoying laugh that made Ira want to pop him in the mouth. But Ira was restraining himself.

He and Lance had started off on the wrong foot. And Lance’s off-color remarks from the night before had only exposed his true colors to the group. But the rest of them seemed to tolerate his presence for the time being. And so Ira let it slide momentarily.

Slater was parked on a bench by one of the side entrances, waiting for his phone to charge. He’d called everyone in his phone book from his office. Not one of them had returned his calls.

A lone man stumbled towards the doors. He looked like he had seen better days.

Ryan leaned in closer and saw the gaping wound on the man’s forearm that extended to his elbow. He could see muscle, tendons, and a white knob of bone jutting from his elbow.

He was one of them. Ryan studied it through the glass. It was the first time he’d seen a zombie up close. It was the first time he’d seen a zombie period. If you had told Ryan of a zombie apocalypse when he was a cop, he would’ve busted you for possession because he would’ve assumed you were on some really good shit.

Its pupil-less eyes, like two dirty marbles, stared back at Ryan. Then he was pounded and clawing at the doors, trying to bite Ryan right through the glass.

He watched one of the soldiers approach the doors. He didn’t even waste a single round. The soldier pulled his knife from its sheath and rammed the blade through its forehead. The zombie fell backward and twitched once before it ceased moving entirely. The soldier retracted the blade from its skull and wiped the blood clean, careful not to get any on his hands.

So this is it, Ryan lamented. This is the new world.

To Be Continued With Part Three: THE FALL