A Broken World

Four

One Month Later

It's been a month since everything went to shit. The military came in setting up FEMA shelters and camps for the people. Everyone was told to stay in their homes at first and not to approach anyone that was sick. Then they told them to go to the city; that they could be protected there. It didn't last long though. At least it didn't here in Atlanta. It only took a few sick people to be overlooked for things to get out of hand. People were dying and coming back to life. But they weren't people anymore. They were flesh hungry monsters.

The city got overrun, more people died, and the military was overrun, then orders to bomb the city were given. I was hiding in the building the precinct was in. I hadn't left since the day me and Peterson went out to the crime scene of the woman whose husband killed her and ate part of her. I now knew that the man was never alive to begin with when he attacked her.

Luckily for me none of the bombs hit too close to the building. A lot of my coworkers left to go home to their families. I stayed; I didn't have anyone I wanted to go home to. Well, there was one person that I thought about when the Lieutenant told us we should be with the ones we loved and to get out of the city while we could. But I haven't talked to that person in a very long time and I doubt they thought about me at all.

I was sitting at my desk slowly eating a can of peaches when I heard a noise outside the doors in the hall. I had boarded up the big glass windows that looked into the front office. I didn't know if it was a living person or one of the dead. But they were making a lot of fucking noise. I grabbed the baton off my desk. I had ziptied a knife to the end of it then wrapped black duct tape around that to make it more secure.

I had my gun on my hip like I always did and had a few extra magazines in pouches on my belt. It was only ever used if I absolutely needed it. I learned that loud abounds attract the dead like flies on shit. That's why I needed to take care of who or whatever was outside the office doors. I slowly made my way to where the door was. It had a large piece of board in front of it with a desk pushed against it.

I left a small space where I could look out into the hall and check to make sure it was clear before I moved the desk to leave if I needed to go look for supplies. That didn't happen very often though. When the bombs were set off and things settled down I went out and cleared the whole floor and blocked the doors to the stairwells. I don't know how anyone or anything could get up here but it wasn't impossible if they really wanted to.

While I was out clearing this floor I checked all rooms in the building and grabbed anything useful, brought it back and then went to some of the building close by. I had an apartment maybe seven blocks away, but I didn't feel like that would be a safe place to hold up at. I did however go there and grab clothes and blankets, stuff that was essential. All the food I had in my cabinets, which wasn't much, and I grabbed all the water I had in my fridge.

I looked out through the gap in the boards and saw a man walking slowly down the hall. He had a red baseball cap on, a backpack hung over his shoulders, and he carried a crowbar. He looked maybe around my age or a few years younger than me. I set the baton down on the desk and moved it just enough that I could push the plywood out of my way and open the door. As soon as I stepped into the hallway I pulled my gun and pointed it at him.

"Don't shoot!" He said, putting his hand in the air. "Put the crowbar on the floor and kick it over to me!" I told him. He nodded and slowly bent over to set it on the floor then he kicked it across the hall towards me. "I'm sorry. I didn't think anyone would be in this building. The downstairs…" I stopped him, "I know what's downstairs!"

Downstairs was a fucking horror show. Blood coated the floor and walls. Dead bodies lay where they fell a month ago, rotting away, some half eaten. The dead roamed around down there too, the windows were broken out on the ground floor, first, and second floors in the front of the building. I was on the fourth floor, the last floor of the building. "How did you get up here? The stairwells are blocked."

"I climbed the elevator shaft," he said. I raised an eyebrow, "So you're telling me that you got past all those dead assholes pried the elevator doors open, then climbed up the shaft all by yourself? Or are there others with you?" He shook his head, "I'm alone I swear! The one elevator was open enough for me to slip through the doors. I closed the doors, which wasn't easy, but I closed them then climbed up through the hatch. I'm just trying to look for supplies for the group I'm with. We're at the old quarry a few miles outside of the city. Walkers don't come up there."

"My name is Glenn. What about you?" He asked. I thought about what he said and picked up the crowbar, putting my gun back into its holster. "Detective Stone…sorry, my name is y/n. Come on, Glenn, let's get inside before…what did you call them? Walkers? Come up here and trust me they find ways." I turned and slipped back in through the door. Shortly after Glenn slipped through and helped me move the plywood and desk back into place.

"So you're a detective?" Glenn asked. I led him into the main area and went straight to the break room. "Was…I was a detective before this whole shit show happened." I grabbed a bottle of water and handed it to him. "What about you? What did you do before all this Mr…" I opened a bottle of water for myself and took a swig of it before putting the cap back on. "Rhee. I was a pizza delivery guy. I know this city like the back of my hand. I think I've delivered here several times before."

I nodded my head, pulled out a chair, and sat down. "Probably have. We usually ordered out for lunch when we're stuck at our desks all day, we would all pitch in for the order. So, this camp of yours, you said it was at the old quarry? How many of you are there?" I asked. He walked to the door and looked out into the office area. "It's just me here. Has been since before they bombed the city. I only live about seven blocks away and I don't have any family…well, I don't have family that would have cared if I was dead or alive."

Glenn sat down at the table with me, putting his bag on top of the table and looking at me. "There's a group of us. Maybe fifteen… A lot of them met on the highway trying to get into the city. There are kids; four of them. All young, I think the youngest is maybe seven or eight. The other three are eleven or twelve. One of the guys used to be a cop, Shane, he's kind of the leader, I guess. You can come back with me if you want. We could always use more people like you. People who know how to fight. How to lead. How to survive. Plus, survival in numbers and all that."

I thought about it, while he continued to talk about this camp and the people there. He didn't seem like the kind of person to lie. Hell, he looked like the kind of person that couldn't lie without getting all bent out of shape. "Yeah. Okay, I'd like to go back with you. There are a few guns in the weapons locker, along with a few boxes of ammo I can bring along. And I had food and water. Do you have a car?" I asked. He nodded and we started packing up as much stuff as we could carry.