Apocalypse: Day One

Yesterday was kinda rough... After searching for Chad for hours, we finally linked up in the hills of northeastern Elektro. I had been laying around for half an hour in a ghillie suit that I pulled out of a stranger's tent. The ghillie suit had been covering a marksman's rifle, which I relieved the stranger of as well. Once Chad and I met up, we moved from the safety of high ground and descended into the city streets.

We spotted a power plant with a large fire station on the same block with an empty paved lot separating the two structures. We figured the station might be a good place to scavenge. We checked each floor carefully as we searched for supplies and when we reached the top, I kept watch while Chad foraged through a few more lockers.

I was enjoying the deceptive safety of our elevation, keeping one eye on the staircase and the other on the view, when some desperate idiot with a fire axe burst in and struck a glancing blow off Chads shoulder. The blade, dulled by the skulls of the undead, only managed to bruise Chad's shoulder through his thick leather jacket. He hadn't managed to retract the axe for a second swing before I unloaded all but one bullet from my rifle into his chest and throat.

To say I was rattled would be an understatement and Chad was in a panic, wondering just how much damage had been done by the axe. "What if it cut me?! He used it on them!" he cried in a hoarse whisper. I held up my hand to Chad and laid prone. He quickly understood and did the same.

There was only silence. We laid there for what felt like hours. The attacker's body had bled out leaving a dark red pool under his upper body. Some of the blood had run down the staircase, creating crimson streaks around the corner of the opening. We had no way of knowing if the corpse would turn or if he had managed to find us unscathed. We hadn't said a word to each other since I had silenced Chad. I looked over at him and his eyes were locked on the fallen attacker. He had the look of a predator. The silence must have calmed him.

I extended my arm to tap his shoulder, causing my ghillie suit to drag and rustle on the concrete. He inhaled sharply, but quietly as did something on the floor below. There was a sound of soft footsteps that came closer to the staircase. I put my had on the floor and pushed myself up slowly while keeping my rifle leveled at the opening. I brought my foot under my body and planted it, staying still for a few moments. The something downstairs must have heard me, because there had been nothing but silence from the lower level.

Slowly and carefully, I moved to the staircase with my gun pointed at it. I glanced back at Chad who had his rifle on the corpse I was stepping over. The opening was just in front of me and I quickly leaned forward to check for the something we had heard earlier. Nothing was there. I carefully proceeded down the stairs, the metal steps creaking and clanking as I stepped. I had gotten halfway when I turned the check the corner under the staircase and saw what I least expected: a terrified woman in her late twenties with body armor gripping an MP5. Before I could open my mouth she opened fire, spraying bullets into the staircase and into my left leg. I rushed back up the steps and limped into the corner next to Chad who was now crouched.

I slumped back against the wall and did the best I could to hold my gun steady, but my trembling hands betrayed my intentions. Only seconds had passed when she rushed in spraying another 30 rounds at me.  Her aim faltered when Chad and I fired back. She disappeared back down the stairs and fell silent once more, no doubt waiting for us to come after her.

I suddenly lost strength and realized that her aim had been a little better than I had previously thought. Darkness swirled into my vision, moving like black dye in a clear glass of water. I crumbled to the floor feeling only a dull thud when I hit. All of the strength I had left was dedicated to searching for Chad with my failing eyes and ears. I heard the faint sound of a magazine clacking into a gun, but it sounded as if it had been done underwater. The iron-like smell of blood reached was thick around me. I felt my rifle tugged from under my powerless body and heard dull thuds on the floor as boots stepped away from me. I couldn't move, let alone see who had taken it from me.

As I lay there dying, my heart broke. I had failed to protect my little brother. I wished for just a few more minutes of time and second guessed the actions I had taken a few minutes before. My last hope was that Chad's end had been quicker than mine. I fought to move, to reach out and hold him but I couldn't. My vision had blurred to the point of blindness and my arms were impossibly heavy. He was all I had.

Despair had consumed me entirely when a half a dozen shots rang out from my rifle, their concussive report amplified by the concrete walls. A second or two separated each shot; they were carefully aimed. I waited to be finished off by the shooter, a prisoner in my limp, powerless body. Rather than falling into oblivion I was lifted up and cradled by the rifleman. "Ian," said Chad, "I got 'em."