Humanity's Death: A Zombie Epic by D.S. Black
Chapter Eight: Militia Interference
1
If Duras knew that a blood thirsty militia was planning on cutting him down after he left the safety of his city; he may have thought hard and long about not chasing after revenge. But ever since Okona first stepped into his life, Tommy “Duras” Morrow had wanted nothing more than to kill the guy. His sleek bald head, his narrow, intelligent eyes, his youthful smugness infuriated Duras.
Now, loading the Humvees up with ammo, he had a moment of hesitation. A feeling. It only lasted a moment; but in that moment, Duras felt like he was stepping into a gulf that would swallow him and all that he loved. He shrugged the feeling away and focused on the job at hand. He knew where Okona was laid up. High in those fucking trees just waiting to be burned out. The old hate resurfaced and the thought of Okona's burning, charred corpse brought a delightful smile to his face. He was going to clean the past and create a new future. A future without bald and arrogant assholes. And who knew? After he finished today's task; he might just marry Mary Jane. He'd though about it quite a lot. More than he'd ever tell his men, that's for sure. His wife was dead and was never returning. And he loved Mary Jane. He thought it a bit pretentious to have an apocalyptic wedding. On the other hand, why should romance die? Just because the dead walked and ghosts roamed? He'd even found a diamond to give her during a food run. It was in a Zale's jeweler store. They'd raided the Waccamaw Mall and came away with a nice load of dried food goods from the food court. Raiding malls proved dangerous business these days, since so many of the walkers seemed to congregate at them—drawn there by some lingering instinct from the Old World.
Duras pushed the memories out of his mind and focused on the current moment. “Lite the fires boys! Lets bring em hell!” Duras stood, one foot standing outside the Humvee, the door angled open. They'd driven up to the edge of the wilderness. The sun was lowering and darkness began to shroud them in ghostly shadow. The tree line stood tall and crookedly ominous, like giants threatening to pounce. They charged into the woods head strong, moving swiftly yet stealthily. Duras led from the front. He wanted to taste Okona's blood. He'd wanted this moment since the first time the bald bastard showed up in his parking lot. Make em pay with blood. On his left ran Vice, armed with gasoline soaked arrows (minus the sparklers). On his right was Rhino and Ice Man, armed with automatic pistols on either hip.
In another group, many of his other men moved like black shadows. The City of God was left undefended.
The night grew dark as they moved through the trees, getting closer to the wooden fortress. The ground was soft from the long heat of day, but the air was cooling around them as a storm front approached. The trees caste night's darkness around them like a nightmare. The wind whipped around them and blew their unkempt hair. Hoots and howls came from all directions, dark voices in the night echoing malcontent and hatred. The wind now came from all directions, a screaming hell.
“Not far! The gates are close. Take up position. Vice! Lite em up!”
Before Vice could soar his first burning arrow, the Militia's artillery shells turned the world around them into a thunderous hell. Most of the other group of men were turned into hamburger in the first volley. Their shrieks unheard over the falling shells.
Then the zombies came in full force. A tidal wave of death. Another volley of artillery shells crashed into a large oak near Duras. A thunderous roaring of branches came pouring down.
A massive, burning branch fell on top of Duras, trapping him under flaming wood. His mind went blank as he lost consciousness.
2
Okona heard the sounds of the artillery blasting in the distance, but his attention was lost, caught in a dream state. He stared at his wife's painting like a magnet glued his mind to it. Something was moving in the painting. He didn't believe it at first, but as he stepped closer, he saw it more clearly. It wasn't something, it was someone. Someone moving in the painting. His heart beat hard against his chest. Somewhere behind him, Tasha yelled his name. She sounded a million miles away.
What is moving in the painting? How can this be? He stepped directly up to it and stared hard.
Can't be. No. My dear god.
3
Vice, Rhino, and Ice Man moved with speed. They felled the dead beasts one by one. They fought side by side, back to back, and killed their way to Duras.
“Its artillery shells! Somebody is aiming right at us!” Vice shouted into Duras’s ear as Ice Man and Rhino hoisted the branch up just enough for Vice to pull Duras free. He helped Duras to his feet.
“Where is it coming from?” Duras asked, his consciousness returning in a blaze of pain.
“Somewhere over there!” Vice said pointing int eh general direction where the City of God was.
Duras stared around; zombies were everywhere; like beacons sent from hell, their dead eyes glowed bright white in the dreadful darkness.
Duras didn't see any sign of Okona and had no idea the Militia existed. He only knew that something horrible had crept up on them and rained furious hell.
Vice stepped in and brought Duras out of his fog of uncertainty. “I suggest we try and circle around and flank em! Lets get the fuck out of here!” More shells erupted into the hoard as Duras and and his company ran through the trees, slaying dead men as they went.
“We’re earning it today boys! Holy fuck!” Vice said as he and Duras stopped and stood back to back and fought off a small horde of 6 zombies. In front of them, Ice Man and Rhino stood over the bodies they had slayed holding their swords high in victory. They were shouting: Bring it on! Bring it on! Bring it on!
The shells were now behind them, but still blasting hard against the earth.
The dead thinned out as they moved swiftly through dark, shadowy trees. The trees towered in the darkness. A cool wind blew and swirled the rotting flesh in a swirl of decaying stench. Above the trees, darkness towered in dark clouds of black smoke.
Artillery shells continued to explode as Duras followed behind Vice. Their boots dug in the wet earth; damp air filled their lungs. Their hearts beat at the same rhythm, and a look of vigilant rage covered their faces. Darkness surrounded them, but at that moment, they were a unstoppable phalanx, a rising glory of determination.
The world may fall around them; they may hang on a by a mere thread, the world gone to shit. But they marched on and fought for glory, for the world’s ending, for lost love; while marching through the fog of war, Duras, Vice, Rhino, and Ice Man were the four horsemen of the apocalypse.
4
Tony Piper clunked artillery shells into the launcher. BAM! Another one inserted. BAM! Clunk. BAM! Tony worked like a mad man. His arms moved, his legs bent, but his mind felt only the mad exhilaration of the White Mist. The white powder wasn’t meth. Nope. Something new, exotic, and more powerful. Tony heard it all came from the Mountain King. All praise the Mountain King. Creator of White Mist, that mystical powder, so fine, so soft as it enters the nostrils.
Tony keeps clunking the shells as his mind dances with raging obedience. Tony was no stranger to drugs before the Fever. Meth, coke, heroin, he loved it all. On his knuckles he’d tattooed ADDICT, each letter on a separate knuckle. Drugs purified Tony. Least that’s how Tony saw it. Drugs freed him from the norms of mainstream society. Tony new the truth. A truth the Mainstream didn’t want to accept. All their hopes and dreams. All lies. An illusion. “My drugs free my mind and body.” He often said. Once he’d taken a dog into the woods and stabbed it to death after smoking a few bowls of some fine Crystal. He'd lured Mr. Buttons out of his elderly neighbor's yard. Mr. Buttons was a neighborhood favorite. Mr. Buttons was part of the Mainstream. He’d let the dying dog lick his hand as it bled out, then he stabbed Mr. Buttons for the final time, directly into his eyes. Tony's cock was rock as hard the whole time. When Tony was twelve he took another neighbor's cat and hung it out in the woods and watched the creature gasp its last breath. The cat was part of the Mainstream.
Tony felt lucky. Since
Clunk! BAM! Clunk! BAM!
Around Tony was Larry Burnett, Gary Mather, and Todd Snout. Insane goons, jacked up on White Mist.
Tony stopped dropping rounds and cracked his back. He felt a grotesque beauty only he understood. He was special. Just like his momma always sai—
The first bullet flew by Tony’s head and shredded Larry's face.
Tony looked out into the darkness, his eyes wide with—
(Fear?)
(Regret?)
Tony saw something moving out of the shadows. It wasn’t zombies, it was the faces of warriors; the whites of their teeth shining like beacons of destruction; a hot stream of urine streamed down Tony's inner thigh.
5
Duras charged from the woods, into a circular clearing, and saw the fear in the boy’s eyes. 18? 19? Didn’t matter. The blade of his bat’leth caved into the Tony's chest; darts of blood to splattered. The boy fell to his knees, Duras press his foot onto his chest, and ripped the blade free.
A couple of feet away, Vice gutted the last man standing with a thrust of his blade.
Then it was quiet. They stood their breathing deeply. A cold moon shined a bar of light on Duras’ face. His eyes were wide and he breathed heavily, but comfortably.
Mary Jane.
“Mary Jane! We have to get back!”
“Calm down, lets think this through for a minute.” Vice said.
“Lets hope like hell these boys aren’t organized into something larger.” Rhino grunted.
Duras collected his emotions, then said “Some red neck militia, may be? Look at this patch.” The same patch Candy had found was sewn on to the sleeve of the dead solider. “Bet the bastards love this world. My god. How did they know we were here?”
“Somebody at camp probably told them. Had to of. They caught us on the move and flanked us hard.” Vice said.
“You’re right. A coincidence is never this precise.” Duras said.
“What now?” Rhino asked.
“If they are part of a bigger group, then the town is probably under attack.” Vice said.
“Lets go stealthily. Might be more out here.” Duras said.
6
Okona almost didn't believe his eyes; the voice came out of the painting. His wife's voice. His dead wife. He saw her standing on the painted rope bridge. But it wasn't painted anymore. It was real. The painting had somehow come to life before his eyes and there she stood, waving for him to step closer... closer...then—
He was in the painting. Somehow he really was; she stood right in front of him.
“Hello my love. Did you miss me?”
“What? How can this be?”
She reached up and touched his face. He felt her hand caress his cheek.
“Its you. Its really you.” He said.
“Who else would it be?”
“But you're dead. I saw it happen.” Tears streamed down his cheeks. His voice quivered. “I-I-Sa-Saw you DIE!” He fell to his knees and held her around the waist, burying his face into her stomach.
“Stand up. We don't have much time.”
“Time? Time for what?” He stood up, his face red and teary.
“Time for you to make a mends with Tommy. There are bigger problems. Neither of you can do it alone.”
“What? I don't understand! Tommy? Tommy Morrow?”
“Yes. The Old World is gone, along with all the problems and petty disputes it held. This is too serious to hold on to those old hatreds. You must help him. You must make him see and understand. There are people that need your help.”
“Who? Why is this happening? How are you standing here? How am I standing here?”
“Shhhhhh.” She put her finger to his lips. “All in time. Your questions will have their answers. All in good time. Now go. Go and help Tommy.”
“I don't under—“
But she was gone. He stood staring at the painting. Just a painting. His wife was no longer standing on the rope bridge; he felt a firm hand take him by his arm and twist him around.
“Are you deaf! Do you fucking hear that! Its a goddamn battle zone over there!” Tasha's eyes were wide and alert.
“Tommy needs our help.”
She looked at him bewildered. “What the hell are you talking about?”
“Tomm—Duras. He needs our help.”
“And I need a hot shower! Let him fry! I say we head north into the Outer Banks and hide out for a while.”
“No. I have to find him and make him see.”
She stood looking at him. Okona knew she probably though he'd lost his mind. But what he just experienced was no dream. He knew that. It was real. He had to find Duras and fast. He had to know why his wife appeared to him. Who needs help? What is the bigger issue? The words of Fox Mulder came to mind: the truth is out there.
Okona intended to find it.
7
Duras moved carefully, keeping an eye, ear, and nose out for zombies and militia men. Mary Jane continued to interrupt his thoughts. He now knew he loved her; there was no doubt left. He was scared; scared because he might lose her.
Then the screams came. The howls of dying men, women, and children. Up ahead, he saw rising flames; his city was burning.
The screams continued to scratch against the night like finger nails on a chalk board. Him, Vice, Rhino, and Ice Man crept closer to town and hunkered down and behind a few wrecked cars. Duras saw the shadows of Militia soldiers moving through the streets. He could smell the death. The blood. The pain. His people were dying. Mary Jane was dying.
“Jesus.” Vice said as he stared through a small pair of binoculars. “This is bad.”
“Don’t state the obvious. How do we fix it?” Duras said, trying his best to keep his wits.
“Don’t know if we can, Duras. We migh—”
“No!” Duras said in a forced whisper. “We take the town back!”
“How the hell are we gonna do that? We got hardly any ammo. Those guys are packing serious shit down there. And they look crazed as hell. We're out gunned and out manned.”
“Fuck!”
“We have to wait it out and hope for the best. Its all we can do!” Vice put his hand on Duras’ knee. “Its all we can do, boss.”
“Back to the woods? We can watch everyone die from safety and comfort.”
A mean glare crossed Vice’s face, “Don’t think I want to save Mary Ann? Uh? Hey! I like her just as much as you like Mary Jane. But we can’t save them!”
“You’re a fucking coward!”
“If you go out there, you’ll die. Duras, don’t…”
“What about you two? Don’t look away! You gonna let all those people die?”
“It’s better than a fucking suicide mission!” Ice Man said. His normally beautiful blonde hair was now mashed down in clumps of sweat, dirt, and blood.
Duras stared out at the city. He slumped against the car and put his face into his palms. “Just tell me one thing. How the fuck did this happen?”