Fire Away

Chapter One

CHAPTER ONE

Isolation. It was something John Palmer had become aquatinted with far too well. Although his calendar showed it had only been twenty four days, it felt like a lifetime.

He didn't do much throughout his days alone in the station, but he tried to keep a routine. Maybe it was for his own sanity. Something about a routine kept him going.

He would wake up to his alarm clock if he were lucky. Most of the time, it was the loud banging on the garage doors or the scratching of nails. Even that wasn't so bad compared to the few times he awoke to the howling screeches bellowing from the streets below.

Once awake, he would strap the hunting rifle he kept beside his bed over his shoulder and grab his fire axe before anything else. He'd make his way through the empty dormitory and head downstairs to perform a security check. He had to ensure every door and window in the building was sealed air tight. His least favorite spot to check by far was the door beneath the stairwell. That was where it got real dark.

The lock had been broken and the only thing keeping them out now was a couple of cinder blocks. What they didn't know wouldn't help them, and they didn't know anything. Only hunger.

With the power having been gone for two weeks now, things had been harder. Fortunately for him, he had plenty of options for lighting such as flashlights, lanterns, and flares. His station was full of equipment that would keep him alive, and he knew how to take advantage of it.

The fire station was decently sized, more than enough room for one man anyway. Downstairs, it had a big bay with a few emergency vehicles, fire trucks, and three big garage doors. The living quarters were upstairs, sporting a few amenities that were nice to have at the end of the world.

Beyond the upper floor, the stairwell lead to the rooftop. If he needed to get any higher, the stairs continued up to a small watchtower on the roof that overlooked the city.

Once his security checks were done, he would head upstairs to the kitchen to fix himself some breakfast. With enough food preserved to feed two dozen firemen for months, he was well off to say the least. Eating alone was something he had to get used to even before the world went to shit. But it never got any easier for him. And the MRE's never got any tastier.

After his breakfast, he'd head down the hall to the gym. This was by far his favorite time of the day, letting out his anger at the world on some poor iron. He felt safe there, as if the world might be okay. Whenever he finished up his workout, he'd kick on the emergency generators to take a hot shower. He didn't keep them on for long, it was too noisy. Too risky.

When he was done, the first thing he'd do is grab his rifle and fire axe. Complacency was a killer before the apocalypse, and he wouldn't let it get him. He headed up the stairwell, emerging onto the rooftop. This was where he burned his signal fires. He had two burning on the main rooftop and one atop the watchtower. Three pillars of smoke spewing endlessly into the sky.

At the beginning, he thought this was a surefire way to get someone to notice him. But now, he wasn't sure why he even bothered.

This was his spot, for most of the day anyway. He sat around the fire, staring out at the city. He paid attention to every little detail, looking for any sign of life. For the first few days, there was yelling and gunshots occasionally. The helicopters came and went, never to be seen again. A flare would spout from a distant rooftop, giving him relief that others were alive.

But that was only the first few days. After a week, he watched as the city went dark.

A few lights stayed on, including his at the station. At first, it excited him. He knew having the only light source would catch peoples attention. He would finally have people to talk to, and to look after. Yet the opposite happened, because it wasn't the living that showed up on his doorstep. It was the dead.

It must have been thousands of them. There was no space on the surrounding streets, only the walking dead clumped together like ants on a puddle, pressed against the buildings. That was one of his first hints at what they were attracted to. Light.

Around this time in the early days, his radio would pick up unknown broadcasts. He figured it was military transmissions, but they never identified themselves. And they would never respond. It wasn't anything special though; just your normal apocalyptic warnings. Urging people to stay indoors. To barricade themselves inside and make no attempts to hit the road. He knew then he was all alone.

The radio chatter was constant in the beginning, but the broadcasts stopped about a week in. It was the last he had heard from anyone. One message had stuck with him the most; do not go outside.

The week following the end of the broadcasts had been dreadful. During the day the infected would wander the streets aimlessly, and during the night they would return to the station. It had to be the smell. Something about being alive that drew them in like mosquitoes to a bug zapper.

Though he never let his hope wane too much. He kept the signal fires lit every night just in case someone would see. He decided every Friday at dusk he would fire a flare into the sky in attempt to flag someone down, anyone. He would lie back and watch the flare fizzle out, gazing upon the stars. It made the deadly threat two stories below seem insignificant. For a moment.

By the twenty fourth night, he found himself atop the roof once again, tending to the fire. He had some slight scars on his face and arms, as if they had come from burns.

John stared out at the dark city, sitting there in silence. The only thing for him to listen to was the howling of the undead as they brushed past his building. The noises they could summon were inhuman. He tried his best to ignore them as he wiped the blade of his axe with a rag, keeping it clean. His disassembled rifle lay beside him waiting for its turn.

Keeping his weapons in good condition was critical for him. John wasn't much of a believer in luck itself, but the fact that luck was when preparation met opportunity. When he was done with the axe, he set it aside and picked up his rifle. He opened up a cleaning kit and pulled out a steel brush to keep it pristine. After he finished, he loaded bullets into the internal chamber.

He went to set the rifle aside before he hesitated, looking toward the barrel. His hands trembled as despair filled his body. He knew at moments like these, he was being tested. He just wasn't sure by whom.

John let out a slight chuckle at the desperate situation he found himself in and shook his head. He set the rifle down and laid back, gazing at the stars once again. He noticed a faint light up above, far into the reaches of space. It was moving ever so slowly across the sky.

At least I'm not one of the poor bastards in the space station, he thought to himself.

Suddenly, the sky lit up in an vibrant red hue, overshadowing the distant speck of light. John sat up immediately and reached for his gun as he watched a flare shoot into the sky from a nearby building. It hissed as it fell into the dark depths of the streets below.

Screeching came from the city as footsteps erupted in the distance. It sounded like a stampede as the horde of infected rushed toward the fallen flare. John squinted as he tried to make out the building it came from.

Another flare shot up from the same building, this time briefly illuminating a shadowy figure of the person who fired it. As the infected roared, John couldn't help but smile as emotion rushed over him.

He laughed to himself almost hysterically as the second flare disappeared into the horde. He fell to his knees as he stared into the dark abyss. He knew there wasn't only a person out there, but they were only a city block away.