Aftermath [in work]

Chapter 1

Chapter 1

Brook rammed himself through the door, breaking it. The auto merchant door was locked, so it was his only entrance. The door timbered down to the ground, blowing a load of dust at contact.

Brook scrambled back up, and examined the room. It was the garage area. In the middle of the room was a red pick-up truck, in a horrible condition. The front part of the truck was canned, crush inward. Probably a car crash, so it was unusable to Brook. However, the real loot would be what's inside the truck. Brook approached the broken windows, and peered inside. Nothing in the front or back seat but some change such as pennies and other coins. Stuff the old world needed.

Beside the truck by a few feet was a workbench. Ontop of it was rusted car parts and tools, covered by cobwebs. In his past life, Brook once worked with cars and auto-work. Most of the parts were familiar with him. He turned across the room and found a boarded up door. There was no certain way to pass by this door without a tool. He looked back at the workbench, and spotted a crowbar beside a silver watch and a brown leather wallet.

He picked up the crowbar, and approached the boarded door. With the crowbar, he pryed off the boards with little difficulty. Brook was a crook, or a street thug before. Muscles and skills were needed, and Brook had both. He finally took off the boards, and opened up the door.

It lead to the lobby. Marble floor, and a dull gray wall. Some blue chairs placed by the front door of the lobby. A glass counter with snacks inside, and a back door behind the counter.

"Hell, i'm hungry." Brook said to himself, approaching the glass counter. He clenched his crowbar tight, and smashed it against the glass, shattering it to a million pieces. Brook threw the crowbar to the ground, and began picking on the candy bars. He quickly ripped them open, and ate them without hesitation. Most of them were stale, but they would fill Brook up, eventually.

After eating most of the candy, he had heard footsteps from up ahead. Brook immediately picked up the crowbar and stood up. Being a crook, fighting wasn't a rare thing. Rather it was a usual chore.

The door swung open, and a tall man stood in the doorway with a shotgun. He had a thick mustache over his lips, with his dark skin, and his brown eyes.

He pumped the shotgun, and Brook backed up. "Listen," Brook began, lifting his hands up, "I can help. I know how to work trucks, I know how get into boarded places. We can both help each other and survive!"

The man gave Brook death eyes and snorted back, "Get out of here if you appreciate life."

Brook looked at the crowbar in his hand, then back at the man. The man noticed, and gently placed his finger over the trigger. "Get out now." He said, staring down Brook in the eyes.

Brook sighed, and turned back to the door he pryed open. He walked through it, the man following him. "Damnit, now i'm going to have to fix this whole place up." The man groaned under his breath.

Trying one last shot, Brook asked, "Need some help?" The man poked the barrel of the shotgun against his back, shoving him out of the garage and into the street, then the man stood in the doorway.

"Got it." Brook said, looking up and down the street. He saw a group of men running along the rooftops up the street, perhaps it was one of the men back at the camp? Brook started off a full sprint, and began to track them from the ground.

Michael and his boys were jumping onto buildings, panting with tire. Paul wasn't tired, however. His skills in military had stuck with him, and he made sure to take advantage of them. Just six years ago, the man was coming back from Iraq, thinking the war was finally over. Then they arrived. The Zodiacs.

The squad stopped ontop of the rooftop of a house, they had to be careful unless they wanted to slide down the side of the house. Robert settled down by the chimney, and looked back at the blood-stained cover for his wound. It ached bad, and will only get worse without medical attention.

"Think we can rest here?" Marco asked Michael, checking his boots if they were tied. Micheal looked up into the sky in multiple directions in anxiety, his head spinning one side to the next. "No, after the hangers are finished, the trackers come." Michael responded.

Trackers were to a similar design of the Hangers, except they were dark green, and could go into stealth as long as it had fuel. Their fuel was radiaton, most of which they got from Russia. While the Trackers weren't lethal, their Blood-Hounds were another story.

Paul sighed, and looked at Michael. "You're pushing them too hard, Michael. Come on, just a ten minute rest."

Micheal stared dead eye at Paul, and his nose wrinkled up. Michael approached Paul, and began stabbing him with his finger. "Listen! We lost Dom by getting a rest. Robert is dying here, unless we get back to the base and treat him. Besides, we only have another twenty minute run! Come on, let's move."

Michael looked at the next house, and began pumping up. He ran up to the edge of the roof, and springed to the next one, making it. Paul looked at Marco and Robert, both which were panting, Robert nearly pale. A wounded man can only do so much before he wears out. Hell, any man can do so much in that case. "But, in a world where there is no hope, we do what we can." Paul spoke under his breath, before following after Michael.

After twenty minutes of running along roofs, then going down to the streets and running in the shadows, the squad approached to a huge supermarket. The windows and doors were boarded up. However, the squad knew of a secret entrance. In the rear area of the building is a hole behind a dumpster. The hole leads to the manager's office of the supermarket, which then can be used to enter the supermarket itself.

As the Nova squad used this entrance, Brook stood off in the distance watching. He looked down at his crowbar, then at the final man entering the hole, then pulling the dumpster over it.

Inside the supermarket, the squad had rearranged lots of things. Near the entrance is an area of sleeping bags and a few backpacks. They had moved the shelves off to the sides of the supermarket. Upon first entering the supermarket, they had raided it to find a good amount of food and supplies left. Upon this, they had decided to make this their HQ.

Paul and Marco dragged Robert towards the sleeping bags, and settled him in his own sleeping bag. Marco began unwrapping the sleeve, while Paul searched for the red backpack in the backpack pile, that was the medical one. He eventually found it, and zipped it open. He pulled out medical supplies, such as real bandages and some drugs to calm down the patient. Paul supplied it towards Marco, who then began work on Robert. The poor man was worn out, his pale now turning to a slight blue.

Standing by a boarded window was Michael, looking inbetween the boards and out the glass. The parking lot was empty, it always was. That wasn't what he was looking at, however, it was the sky. Up in the sky were Trackers, about five blocks up ahead.

Paul approached him angrily, and opened his mouth to say something, but Michael had something to say first. "We've all done hard things in our life. I had to put down Dom, after we found out he was infected. You knew we didn't have anything to do. You still know today that if you become infected, we will kill you."

Paul was silent for a moment before responding, "If Robert dies, it is on you. You out worked him, you killed him."

Michael took a deep sigh, and turned to Paul. "You know what seperates us from the vermin out there? We kill, to survive. They kill, for the fun of it." Paul gulped down, and looked down.

The two heard footsteps from the rear of the Supermarket. Paul raised up his rifle, and whispered, "I got this. Just keep an eye on Marco and Robert." Michael was dumbfounded with Paul giving orders. He growled, but listened anyway.

Paul began approaching the back area, his rifle still up. He began passing through the toy sections, approaching the manager office. The door was wide open, and Paul could hear the movement from inside. "Come out, and I won't shoot." Paul said outloud in an affirmative manner.

After a minute of dead silence, Brook slid out the open door with his hands up. Paul immediately approached him, and smacked the butt of his rifle against his face, knocking him out.