The zombie game

chapter 15

“Look there,” said Ken excitedly. He was pointing at a large building with a bunch of bloody zombie bodies lying around it.

“What do you suppose it is?” asked Joe.

“More than likely it is a survivor refuge that was nearly overrun by zombies,” said Ken.

“Or some abandoned building with zombies inside?” suggested Joe.

“Maybe,” commented Ken. Ken and Joe had been walking all day in the sweltering heat; it had probably reached around ninety to one hundred degrees Fahrenheit, and yet, they still hadn't caught a break. This place they had seen just now might just be that break. As they walked they had thought about the fate of the soldier they had met, and how that soldier, now, was probably dead, and that the man that had taken him (Dave?) would be back and that he would want to rule. That was just a guess though—a speculation because who knew what a man would do in a world like this. The option was viable though—either or they would never hear from the man again, which was highly improbable.

Joe and Ken cautiously approached the safe house. Joe was the first person to arrive on the front doorstep. He knocked on the door.

Lewis answered. “Who are you?” he demanded.

“We are just survivors—like you...” started Joe.

“Drop your weapons,” said Lewis coldly. He had a snarl in his face.

“Fine,” said Joe. He kept his pistol under the waistband of his jeans, but he dropped the machine gun and the knife to the ground. Ken did the same.

“How are we supposed to trust you?” asked a figure who stood right behind Lewis. Tom.

“Just let us in,” said Ken, “we will cause you no harm. There is no need for any of the hostility.”

“Yes there is,” said Lewis, “because we don't know who the hell you are!”

“We understand that—we have been surviving for many weeks and possibly months. Surviving with nothing. And one of our companions, a soldier, got kidnapped.”

“A soldier? Kidnapped?” asked Lewis.

“Yea...a man in a large Humvee stopped, a couple of guards came out, and then grabbed the soldier from the driver seat. Me and Ken hid behind the truck.”

“And what is your name?”

“Joe.” A pause.

“Lewis,” he said, extending his hand. Joe took it and shook. “Nice to meet someone like us—a survivor.”

Joe nodded. “Well can't we come in?”

“Yea you can,” said Lewis. Joe and Ken entered the house, much to the disappointment of many of the other people.

“What the hell are you doing?” a man piped in.

“Yea,” said his wife, “how the hell are we supposed to trust these people?”

“They said they are survivors—like us,” said Lewis.

“Well they can say what they want—we know nothing about them. They could just go kill us whenever the hell they want to,” scolded the man.

“Believe me, if they were gonna kill us, they would've already.”

“We are of no harm,” blurted out Joe. Everyone paused and momentarily stopped talking.

Tom suddenly came into view. “Who are these people?”

“I am Joe,” he said, extending his hand. “This is Ken.”

“Why are you here?”

“We are looking to get refuge for awhile. We have been out on the streets for so long, battling groups of people and zombies.”

“Really?” asked Tom. “So was I. Then I found this place.” Tom gestured around him.

“Nice place you have here though,” said Joe, looking around.

“I know,” a man said, stepping into the room. He was big and portly.

“Ah yes, Charles,” another man said. Charles stood right in front of Joe, looking down at him with large, beady eyes, sweat dribbling down the side of his face.

“I am Joe,” he said looking up.

“I don't want you here,” Charles said.

“Why?” asked Ken.

“Because we don't know you. Now get out. Now.” He pointed toward the door.

“Now wait a minute,” interrupted Lewis, “we can't just throw them on the street.”

“Yea we can, we don't know them. They could kill us in our sleep and steal our stuff. I don't trust them.”

“But I trust them,” said Lewis. “They seem innocent enough. They won't do anything—they could actually be an asset to us. We can use them in this rebel type army.”

“Why are you talking to us as if we aren't here?” asked Ken.

“Right, lets stop that,” said Lewis. “We need to have them settle here for awhile. Eat some food, perhaps get some rest. Tomorrow we will clear out the bodies and go hunt and find some food.” Everyone groaned, but Charles nodded.

“If I am right though, I will get your ass,” said Charles, a vein pulsing in the back of his neck.

Joe and Ken sat down in two chairs. Linda entered the room.

“I'm Linda,” she said.

“I am Joe, this is Ken.”

“Nice to meet you.”

“Same to you.”

“What are we gonna do for the rest of the night?” asked Joe.

“We're gonna rest,” said Linda, “and eat. We have limited food though, so use the portions sparingly.”

“Alright,” said Joe nodding. He stepped up from the chair and walked through the living area toward a small kitchen, where he found a small loaf of bread that already had a slice clean through it. He grabbed a piece of it and shoved it into his mouth, his teeth like knives slicing through soft flesh. It tasted so good to him. He turned around and walked back into the living area, sat back down, and waited for him sleep.

It was night and Joe and everyone else were about ready to go to bed. He stood up and staggered tiredly toward a small room branching off the main area. He fell down on the bed and was immediately asleep.

When he first heard it he thought it was a dream. It was the sound of simultaneous banging. And then a crackle of something. Laughter? Flames? He suddenly awoke and looked around him. The house was completely surrounded in a tunnel of fire. He jumped up from the bed. A coughing of gunfire came from outside. Joe grabbed his pistol from the table. He whipped and raced out of the room when he heard an explosion. A piece of flaming wood tumbled to the floor, sparks flying. He saw a figure aiming a gun at him and he pulled the trigger of the pistol. The figure flew backward.

Another explosion rocked the house. What the hell was going on?