The zombie game

Chapter 17

Joe awoke in a moving vehicle that he assumed was a Humvee. He remembered the burning house, remembered the man he was fighting, and remember saving Linda, but after he jumped out of the house he must have blacked out. Nobody won this battle. He looked around. Something was blurring his vision. He placed his hand to the side of his head and felt sticky blood trickling down his face. The back of the truck was dark, the only light piercing the darkness were the steady shafts of light that cut through the thin fabric canvas. He squinted to try to see if anyone had survived the ambush, but as far as he could tell, he saw nobody in the truck with him. So either everyone was dead, or they were in separate trucks.

The truck slowed down and finally came to a stop. Joe heard a door slam from ahead of him and he quickly lied down on the hard floor of the truck, pretending as if he were resting. A man pulled the flap back from the military truck. He was a skinny man, dressed in army fatigues and carrying a machine gun. The man stepped into the truck and roughly grabbed Joe. His eyes shot open.

“Come with me,” ordered the man. Joe glanced at his name tag. Sergeant Andy. Joe was being led up a large, metal staircase, to a huge warehouse like building. Guards were surrounding it, military vehicles dwelling in the garage that Joe could see from the corner of his eye. He was pushed forward. He had no chains so he could twist around and grab the soldier if he really wanted to, but he was weak and didn't feel up to it.

Joe entered a long, narrow hallway with small light bulbs dangling on rusty silver wires, enough light to only see so far. A couple of chairs were jammed against cracks in the wall. Shattered glass was sparkling along the floor, making a crunching sound as they made their way forward. A couple of doors were jutting open—rooms that were jutting off the hallway. As Joe glanced around, he saw a couple of guards just sitting at still functioning computers (how?) and a couple standing next to the doorways, machine guns in hand.

A door was sitting open at the end of the hallway, an abyss of darkness greeting them as they approached it. Joe was pushed through the door, Andy following him. It took a minute for Joe to adjust to the darkness, but once he did he saw a table sitting next to the wall as well as an aluminum chair.

“Stay here,” said Andy lightly, “Dave will be here in a moment.” Andy left, slamming the door behind him. Joe wanted to know what was happening.

Where were the people he had met?

Where was Ken—where the hell was everyone? He just sat there in the chair for a few minutes. A man, presumably Dave, entered the room. It was the same man who had kidnapped the soldier Joe and Ken had met—the same person who probably killed the soldier and burned down the house.

“What the hell do you want? Where am I?” spat Joe.

“You will know that all in good time,” said Dave coldly, spreading his hands. He had sweat glistened on the very crest of his bald head, and small wet stains soaking through his shirt. It sure was hot in this warehouse—this compound—wherever the heck he was. Joe sat there and watched as Dave paced back and forth, waiting to talk to him.

“What are you doing?” asked Joe more calmly.

“What I want,” Dave began, “is power.”

“Power? What do you mean?”

“I think you know very well—now don't interrupt me. Yes I want power. This world has been to hell and back and we need a strong leader to lead America back to its once known greatness. And I am going to be that leader,” explained Dave.

“So you are basically...”

“...taking advantage of this situation for my own personal gain.” Dave smiled. “You catch on quick.”