Run for Holcomb's Truck "Close the door!" you shout to the RV driver, "I’ll grab another ride out!" You hop down from the RV and scout out the best way possible to get to Will Holcomb. Between you and Will’s truck are six lanes of I-73 and about twenty zombies. Most vehicles are escaping, but Will’s and two others are stopped to provide cover fire. Behind you the RV drives away. You reach behind your back and into your belt. There is a hatchet. You pull it out. And then you run. In these short few weeks since you were rescued you have become quite adept in these conditions. Encountering zombies in this number is rare (the camp has scouts for a reason), but you feel surprisingly comfortable. The key is avoidance. Only attack a zombie when necessary. Becoming overzealous will only lead to one’s demise. With proper practice, zombies become quite easy to take down one-on-one. It should never have to go beyond that. Zombies in numbers are dangerous and if they surround you, you’re dead. As you run to Will’s pickup, you weave your way in and out of the zombie mass. It is like a game of chess. You must learn when to retreat and when to strike. A lone zombie is directly in your path. Strike. SPLATCH You never stop moving as the hatchet slices right through the zombie’s decaying neck, decapitating it. Four zombies huddled together are obviously focused on you. Retreat. You halt and prepare to avoid them when three more zombies intersect your path. Then five more. This, you have learned, is a bad situation. A solid-black motorcycle, revving its engine, appears between two semi-trucks. The tires squeal and the bike shoots forward. The hulking man driving is carrying a chainsaw, placing it on the handlebar, blade out to the right. Within seconds the motorcycle blurs by between you and the four zombies. The chainsaw mangles their bodies, sending them crumpled to the street. While the attack was not precise enough to kill them, it does incapacitate them enough for you to pass. The man on the motorcycle nods his head as if saying "you're welcome" and continues forward attacking more zombies. He is one of the camp’s scouts, aptly named, Scout. With Scout’s intervention you easily traverse the final distance to Will’s truck. He reaches out his hand and helps pull you into the truck bed. Dr. Peter Brown, driving the pickup, pushes the gas pedal to the floor. Will and you stumble a few paces backwards as the truck accelerates. Will turns to you and cracks a small smile. "We shouldn’t make a habit out of this," he says. The camp continues down I-73 weaving around clumps of zombies. Luckily, no more cars collide with them. The camp makes it to Exit 134b. *** The camp’s new location is Mason Park, ten miles northwest of New Hilstead. It rests at the top of a hill created as a lookout point. On a clear day you can still see the empty towers of New Hilstead. "Alright," Will Holcomb sighs. He’s sitting at a desk in the back of a semi-truck that was retrofitted to become an office. "What the hell happened?" Around the desk is Dr. Peter Brown, the camp’s personal historian; Scout, Daniels, and Leslie, the head scouts; and yourself, who has been attempting to take a more active role in the camp. This meeting is part of that effort. Leslie begins, "We just don’t know. Our reports indicated no zombie presence, at least nowhere near those numbers, anywhere close to I-73. I can’t—" "It was my fault sir," Scout interrupts as if addressing a superior officer. There is silence as all eyes turn to him, waiting for him to continue. "I-73 fell under my sector. I did not thoroughly search the area. I put the camp’s survival at risk. I recommend I be replaced." Again there is silence. Will breathes deeply while rubbing the back of his neck with both hands. "Of course that won’t be necessary," Will says, "We all know you’re the best at what you do and we wouldn’t be where we are today without you." "Thank you sir," Scout replies. "This point just illustrates that we need to keep up our game. We’ve been out here three months now. It is only natural to get lazy. We can’t. This was a wake-up call and we got lucky. We only lost one car, a…" he looks down at a paper handed to him by Peter, "…a green sedan. What’s important is that no one died. Let’s remember that." "Yes sir," Scout says. The three camp scouts exit the back of the semi. Will Holcomb relaxes into his chair. "Why does he talk to me like that?" he asks Peter. "It’s those Second Wavers. I can only conclude that they cannot break the habit of military rule. Being corralled in New Hilstead during those days had to be a traumatizing experience." "I think everyone has been a little traumatized," Will says. *** The next day you catch up again with Will. "I need to be doing more," you say to him as the two of you walk through the camp. "Well I’m glad you feel that way John," Will says in a way that sounds like he is humoring you, "What did you have in mind?" "I thinking that I could be trained as a scout. After what just happened, you know we could use more help tracking zombies and I'm tired of sitting around here doing nothing. I need to get out there and do something, contribute something." "John I—" "Will!" a woman shouts. A short woman in her mid-40s scurries over to you and Will. She looks confused. "Will, have you seen Orson yet today?" He thinks for a bit. "Nope, I can’t say that I have Bernice." Bernice scratches her head. "Well, I’m sure he’ll turn up somewhere… Steven!" she shouts and then walks in another direction. Will explains that Bernice and Orson are a couple, sort of. No one is really sure if they are married, but they are one of the few couples that were a pair before The Fall. You and Will continue to walk. "John, what I was going to say, is that I really do appreciate your enthusiasm. God knows we need more people like you if we’re going to survive. But with your condition…" Will does that a lot, says you have a "condition." It is hard to deny that amnesia is a condition, but it still upsets you. "Dammit Will. My ‘condition’ doesn’t make me an idiot. I am more than capable. Haven’t I proven that to you?" "Of course John, I wasn’t trying to imply—" "Then give me a chance," you say. Will is silent for a few seconds, obviously thinking about the pros and cons in his head. "I’ll talk to the other scouts about taking you on. It will be up to them." "Thank you Will," you respond. "No promises." Before you have time to think about what just happened, you hear a man shout "Jesus!" in the distance, followed by a woman's scream. Turning your head, you see a man stumbling backwards and a terrified woman even further back. They are both staring at the open trunk of a car. Will rushes over and you follow him. It becomes quickly obvious what the two are starring at. Inside the back of the trunk is a human body with a gaping wound in the back of its head. "Is it moving?" the woman asks. Will stands back for a few seconds, just observing the body at first. Then he moves in slowly, grabbing a pole off the ground, and pokes it. No movement. "I think we’re clear," Will says. "Jesus, Will, that thing scared me half to death," the man says, "How did one of those things get in there?" Will is examining the body and flips it over. "We’ll think about that later, first let’s—" He stops talking. Then he looks at you. "What?" you ask. "We just found Orson." *** "We’ve got a problem," Dr. Watts says, as if there weren’t enough problems already. Dr. Valery Watts isa neurologist. After The Fall of New Hilstead, the camp salvaged a blood donation bus (bloodmobile) that Dr. Watts transformed into a mobile hospital and laboratory. This is where she lives now, spending most of her time in solitude. But it doesn’t take a neurologist to see the problem, just somebody comfortable enough to examine a human body. Will and you brought the body in yesterday to be examined by Dr. Watts. The body lies out across one of two medical beds. "Orson was murdered," she says. "Murdered?" you respond, "You’re saying that Orson…" "Yes. There are no marks or abrasions that indicate Orson could have been infected by the zombie virus. He was very much alive and well, or as well as any of us. Similar cases I would rule as a suicide." Suicide is a much more common form of death these days than succumbing to the virus. Will explained that in the early days of the camp there were many zombie-related deaths. Now, with the planned migrations, they have been reduced to nearly zero. "But as you can see," Valery says, turning the skull over, "A bullet entered through the back. I can’t imagine anyone killing themselves by shooting the back of their own head." The gruesome display of Orson’s skull is all too common these days. Neither you nor Will flinch at the sight. She continues, "Of course, he could have had a partner. We’ve seen suicide pacts before, but I’m going to rule that out as well. Group suicides usually don’t end up in the trunk of a car." "Murder," Will says, beginning to realize the implications. "Like I said," Dr. Watts says, "We’ve got a problem." *** That night, as you lay in bed (which just so happens to be the top bunk in an RV shared by five other people) you dream again of the night you shot that man in the alley. The memory is still hazy. You have no idea when it happened, except that it was before this whole zombie mess. You shout at a man and woman to get down on the ground. You are robbing them. It makes you feel like a terrible person. You are a terrible person. The man struggles, so you shoot him. It doesn’t look good. You make off with twenty dollars in cash. "No…" you groan, slowly waking up. The memories haunt you the rest of the night. The next morning you realize what needs to be done. You need to find the person who murdered Orson. You need to bring the killer to justice. And part of you needs to clear your conscious. You know just where to begin. |
