The depth of short stories and micro-fiction 2

Beyond Salvation

The once-grand mansion now stood as a fortress, its stone walls reinforced with steel and topped with barbed wire. The group of friends, all seasoned survivors, had called this place home for months. The world outside had long since descended into chaos, the undead roaming the streets, and the few remaining living fighting for scraps.

Dude, a burly man with a thick beard, stood atop the highest lookout tower, scanning the horizon for any signs of danger. His trusty spring spaniel, Max, sat by his side, ears perked up and alert. Below, Tasha, a petite woman with a shaved head and a scar above her left eyebrow, tended to the group's armoury, carefully loading and unloading the machine guns that lined the perimeter fence.

Sophie, a soft-spoken veterinarian, was in the makeshift infirmary, caring for the group's canine companions. Loki, a sleek German shepherd, lay on a nearby table, his ears flat as Sophie stitched up a gash on his side. Bull, a hulking bull mastiff, and Pill, a muscular pit bull, stood guard, their eyes fixed on the large metal doors that led outside.

The group had banded together in the early days of the outbreak, each bringing their unique skills to the table. Dude had been a carpenter, Tasha a soldier, Sophie a vet, and together they had managed to survive the initial onslaught. But as time passed, the undead had only grown stronger, and the living fewer.

As Dude scanned the horizon, he spotted a plume of dust rising from the east. "Incoming!" he shouted, grabbing his rifle and sprinting down the stairs. Tasha and Sophie rushed to their positions, the machine guns roaring to life as the group prepared to face whatever was coming their way.

A convoy of trucks, armoured and reinforced, came into view, careening down the deserted highway towards the mansion. The group's guard went up, unsure if these newcomers were friend or foe. As the trucks skidded to a halt outside the gates, a figure emerged from the lead vehicle.

He was tall and imposing, dressed in tattered military fatigues, with a scar running from his forehead to his chin. "We're looking for shelter," he called out, his voice firm but desperate. "We have supplies, food, and water. We're willing to trade."

The group exchanged wary glances. They had been burned before, trusting the wrong people and nearly paying the ultimate price. But something about this stranger's demeanour put them at ease. Dude nodded, and Tasha carefully opened the gates, allowing the convoy to enter.

As the strangers poured in, the group was shocked to see the variety of animals they had brought with them. Dogs, cats, even a majestic tiger, all poured out of the trucks, each one more exotic than the last. Sophie's eyes widened as she rushed to care for the creatures, while Dude and Tasha eyed the newcomers warily.

Their leader, who introduced himself as Marcus, explained that they had been a traveling circus, caught on the road when the outbreak occurred. They had lost many of their number, but had managed to survive, scavenging for food and shelter as they travelled.

As the night drew in, the group shared stories and laughter, the tension slowly dissipating. But as they sat around a roaring fire, the sound of shuffling footsteps echoed from beyond the perimeter fence. The undead, drawn by the noise and the scent of the living, had found them.

Without hesitation, the group sprang into action, machine guns blazing as they repelled the horde. The strangers proved themselves to be worthy allies, fighting bravely alongside Dude, Tasha, Sophie, and the dogs.

As the battle raged on, Pill and Bull charged forward, their jaws snapping shut on the undead with deadly precision. Loki and Max followed close behind, the spring spaniel's high-pitched yips and the German shepherd's deep growls sending the zombies scrambling.

But as the fight wore on, Sophie's worst fears were confirmed. The tiger, massive and powerful, had been bitten, its eyes clouding over as the virus took hold. With a heavy heart, Sophie did what needed to be done, ending the creature's suffering before it could turn.

As the last of the zombies fell, the group stood victorious but shaken. The undead would never stop coming, and the living would never be safe. But for now, in this moment, they had each other, and they had a home. And that, they knew, was all they could ask for.

The night wore on, the fire burning low as the group retreated to their makeshift beds, exhausted but grateful. Tomorrow would bring new challenges, new dangers, but for now, they could sleep, knowing they were not alone in this desolate new world.