The Case of Blackfield

Chapter 6 - Wither

Running like hell he prepared to be jumped by the demons outside of the building but surprised, the detective was not ambushed. Mainly because the undead were not really capable of thinking so keenly. They were dead, which was a plus. His legs were stiff from the inner anxiety, but the sight of this strange outcome was brilliant. His coat flapped along with the wind, as if a cape of a hero on their way to save the day. Not only he was going to save the day though, he was going to save the world! Or, try to, at least. There were many factors where his plan could go horribly wrong, but he did not care. While sprinting towards the other building where the secret antidote resided, his mind traveled to a thought that just occurred as he thought about the thing he did. Such a tongue twister. Still, who would actually not try to save the world? Some coward? Maybe a person who doesn't care about what will happen if those things start going to other towns, contaminate and spread the "virus"? Regardless of who would not, Stephen Pou himself was not sure if he wanted to go through it all, and maybe even try to succeed in finishing his work up here. It was true his friend Pete was gone, along with the scientists and the folk in the town, but...if he could eradicate the problem, it would mark it as completed job. With that strife in mind, the detective opened the door and locked it. Checking the windows, the zombies were still trying to put out the fire from his makeshift Molotov cocktail. That was good he had even more time. Hurrying to the power box, he switched it off to reduce chances of a malfunction or even a complete power outage. Slotting in the fuse taken from the recording station, he prayed for the electricity to come back. Turning the switch, the lights quickly flashed. He did not need a flashlight...for now. Not wasting the small amount of time he had, the detective hurried over and climbed the stairs. Steve rushed over to the desk in the end of the room and approached the bulletproof glass box. A green light signaled that it was ok for it to be opened. His shaking hands lifted the glass lid, and for a split second, he saw his face for the first time since he woke up this day. It was melancholic how time seemed to pass so slowly, but in reality, he was in Blackfield for not even an hour. Even so, his face reflected the way he was feeling deep inside. The almost completely sunken eyes and black spots under them said the tale of him suffering from immense fear over the insidious amounts of unimaginable scenarios like the ones he lived through. The already whitened with old hairs crown of his looked even whiter, as the stress was telling its word. He was beginning to look like them, and he was not even bitten, scratched or bit. Who wouldn't be though? It was a complete horror show...one that he did not want to die in. Ignoring his sick look, the detective took the anti-serum and looked at it. It was liquid like in a sealed vial. It had a plastic cork pushed in the neck of said scientific tool, which prevented the insides from spilling. On a small-glued label, it noted "Wither".
  "This is it! I have to spread it through the air and kill those fiends!" - Spoke the inside voice of Steve.
Before that however! He turned around and placed the vial in his inside pocket. The shotgun hanged besides his hip thanks to the belt attached to it. Reaching the fax, he quickly checked the small screen on the machine and typed out a small message using the keyboard on the left. He hoped that the nearest police station in the next closest town received the pleading for help. Pou sent the fax, and as he did, the electricity blacked out. It seems the remaining fuel left in the generator was used up. The flashlight yet again came in the play. In addition, not only that. The zombies did as well. A large bump from bellow signaled their arrival. Either the electricity had made them remember there was a still living victim, or the thirst for blood.
  "Ah...shit...here we go again!" - Cursed the detective.
One more time he had to face them, and one last time he was going to do so. Before he descended down the stairs however, he saw something that could help him terminate the evil beings. A windmill…one of those old ones used to produce electricity back in the day. It was useless now, but, the rotation of the wooden planks attached to the motor, were going to come in handy with spreading the serum…with killing those creatures! A growl made him look down to see the corpse of a past living human escalating up the staircase. Its burned hair and almost torn body crackled with every movement. Cocking the shotgun, he aimed and splattered away the final moment of the zombie. A large spot on the steps appeared, as if someone had puked. Pou did not stay long to observe and booked it down only to come face to face with yet another one. This time he did not waste the last shell in the chamber and only used the hilt, smashing the fiends head in. The moving corpse collapsed and fell backwards, leaving the room free. The detective quickly unhinged the weapon from the big cavity it created and moved along the room, trying to see if there were more. Just as he stepped on the ground floor, he heard a vicious guttural scream coming from behind him. The policemen instincts kicked in, as the detective ducked, turned around swiftly, aimed and shot the zombie that had jumped in attempt to crash into him. The exploding high caliber shell completely obliterated the risen dead, killing it…again. Pou still kept the shotgun after that shot, since he could use it as a bat or something like a hammer. He still had three bullets in the chamber of the revolver…and four more dead zombies outside. The remaining ones were surrounding the ways of the man to escape. Steve looked at the barricade he had created in order to stop the incoming threats, but it seemed like the ones that entered had pushed it in, making yet another entrance…or exit in his case. Thinking on foot, his more secure plan would be to run like hell, and kill as many as possible before reaching the windmill and spreading the serum in attempt to end this crazy tale. Gripping the revolver in one hand and the hilt of the shotgun in other, he unleashed his inner Sonic and launched himself in the open field. The zombies surrounding the lab building quickly heard him and hurried in their need for brains…or whatever they needed. Pou quickly swung and smashed the shotgun in the face of one of the zombies, completely rendering both the weapon and the undead, useless. The other three remaining formed something a commanding general would call a “spearhead formation” but for the zombies it was more of a strategy to attack the detective at all sides…maybe it was just a coincidence that they aligned that way. They could not think…nor learn, they were dead. And if the dead were waking up, it was up to Pou to make sure to shut them up! He stopped mid run, aimed at their feet and shot twice. The bullets exploding from their shells smashed into two of the zombie’s legs, completely tearing them apart. They lost balance and fell flat on the ground, where he stomped onto their heads. It felt as if stomping on rotten pumpkins leftover from Halloween. The third one however, grabbed him by his ankle, running its long and pointy claws along the surface of his skin, penetrating it…spreading the virus it carried. Pou yelled in surprise and instantly smashed its head with his free leg. He could feel how the itch, as he felt it, was starting to spread throughout his body, from the ankle up. It was beginning to numb out and give away. He was so close! The windmill was not until a couple hundred meters. It was more or so, on the outside part of the town, which was logical. He had to run there…spread out “Wither”, and end this. Steve would be cured as well, directly exposed to the antiserum, it was only the most natural way of how things would end up like. Only a couple of more pushes and he would gain freedom over this never-ending saga he committed himself to finishing. Before he reached the post, his mind shuffled through the many explanations to the lawyers, police officers, doctors and scientists over this strange case that was in Blackfield. Stephen could only prepare himself for the inevitable. His body reached the end of the free area, and had to jump over the wooden fence to get to the post. Thank god, someone had managed to place small metal bars as a ladder or he could end up not reaching the top. Moreover, he had to. If he wanted to spread the serum as widely and directly as possible, fusing it with the wind created from the windmill would be the most direct way of covering the most ground…probably even reach to other potentially marked cities. Who knows how much the current “Serum of Growth” had spread. Trying not to think like that, he climbed up higher on the ladder of the post and reached the end goal.
  -Finally! – He exclaimed in relief.
The vial was unsealed from the plastic cork, and the liquid from it emerged, spilling from its carrier. As it entered the airflow though, it disintegrated as if it was reacting chemically to the oxygen…completely fusing with the wind and spreading thanks to the flow of the mill. Stephen did not really know how fast the serum would react…but he hoped for the pain to extinguish soon. His eyes glanced up, seeing the red-ish hue of the moon above the world. It looked pretty. As he did, though…he felt the grasp of something…cold. His leg was now completely frozen…his body…stiff and almost paralyzed. There was something advancing rapidly…the virus he conceived by the zombie was evolving in him. The pain was excruciating. As if, someone was killing him…from the inside. Why was this happening? Wasn’t this supposed to cure the world? All questions he asked himself trying not to feel the sensations, to no avail. He looked away from the moon and stared at the ground…the ground that was unearthing from below…he was watching how they were rising, again, the zombies…the ones from long ago…all skeletons. He saw how the ones he killed rose once again…fueled by the new serum…the stronger one.
  “We have been trapped here, since Peter locked the room to prevent the undead from barging in and stopping us from creating an anti-Serum to counter the effects of the current growth one. We are low on food and water, even our motivation is dying but I am sure we will be able to figure out a way to reverse the crisis we created. Either it will work, or it will kill us all. “– he remembered the words of the scientist.
“Either it will work…or it will kill us all!” He repeated that sentence over and over…watching as the undead were rising from their graves in the cemetery yet again. His body was dying…as his will reached its peak…reached the endgame of his life. Tears started dripping from his tired eyes…not from the pain, but from the realization, he was now responsible for ending the world. Alternatively, starting the end of the world. Both sounded equally bad. Both felt enormously heavy as weights over his shoulders. The detective that really fucked things up all right. He pulled on the revolver and aimed it at his forehead. That was the only thing left for him to do, as he didn’t really want to watch how the zombies were going to spread like cockroaches and take over. He didn’t want that. Steve wanted to rest…and he believed the only way for him to do it, is to not become a zombie…
Just that moment however, he saw how one of the skeletons underneath were trying to reach him by climbing up the ladder. Without thinking it through, he aimed the revolver, and pulled on the hammer. The skull of the arisen dead one exploded…and the wish for the detective to die a man exploded as well, realizing that the final bullet had been shot.
  -No….no……….NOOOOOOOOOOO! – He screamed in agony thanks to the advancing pain of the serum in his body.
Even if he was to deny it…it was funny as well. He was trying to save the world with a serum called “Wither”, and now…literally, he was the one withering from the inside. If this was poetic…fuck poets. Fuck everything.
Through his pain and misery…he didn’t want to die without at least having something to believe in. Looking up, he formed a painful smile and closed his eyes. What he could only wish for…was for the moon to remain as pretty as it was that day.
Stephen Pou…the detective of many long years…welcomed them as the zombies surrounded the post…feeling as he himself was being corrupted by the virus in his veins, becoming one of them. The only thing he could do now…was to only shed tears. Tears about the tragic ending…of Blackfield.