The Creation Gene

Chapter Five - Dean

The night that had been silent for so long was now coming alive with sounds as Dean ran. Mostly he heard screaming. Everything in him, every instinct instilled in him as a soldier, told him to stop, to try and save them. His survival instincts told him no. With his ammo almost gone, getting himself killed would help no one. He needed to get to the police station where he could find help to mount a search and rescue mission. One man alone against these monsters had no hope. They were out in mass force. He could see them roaming everywhere. It looked like everyone was waking up, only thing was, not everyone was waking up normal. There were more of those things than there were normal people.

What in God's name happened here? Those...things, they were people, but they weren't either. His head ached and the more he thought about what might have caused the changes in them, the worse the pain got. He could really use a bottle of Motrin right about now. He'd been walking for the better part of an hour, but he hadn't made it as far as he'd wanted. Those things kept him busy finding alternate routes so he wouldn't have to get in a fight he wasn't sure he could win. He needed to find a map.

With a sigh, he picked up the pace and turned down a street bearing the name Wilson Grove Road. The smoke seemed to be thicker here and he could smell the fire. It wasn't just the heat that he smelled. Something else mingled with the heat, something familiar. The farther he walked, the more his mind shuddered back from it. It was something he would never be able to forget. Burning flesh. His mind flashed back to his last few days in Pakistan. He'd been surrounded by friends who'd been roasting in the fires of the aftermath. No. He shook his head to clear it. He needed to focus to stay alive.

Patriot Drive came into view and he stopped at the sight of the high school before him. The parking lot overflowed with cars and trucks. School must have been in session when everything went down. The school was burning, but it wasn't the main fire he'd been tracking. Those flames still shot high into the sky farther to the east. This fire seemed to be smaller, but was by no means any less dangerous. He debated going in. More of those creatures would be in there. That many people meant some woke up as...well...the only word that kept coming to mind was zombie. Ridiculous, but that seemed the most appropriate term. Zombies. He could almost laugh if the situation didn't seem so grim. The end of the world, according to the crazy people on TV, hadn't been massive earthquakes or floods as predicted, but a hoard of zombies.

2012 and the end of the Mayan calendar had brought out all the crazies, but maybe they hadn't been so crazy after all. Granted, it was several years after the date of the supposed apocalypse, but something sure as hell happened. Everyone passed out and then most of the town woke up as less than human. He guessed all the 2012 fanatics knew what they were talking about after all. As crazy as it sounded, the world had ended, at least here in Charlotte, for all intents and purposes. He was in a war zone again and fighting against creatures he had no clue how to really fight.

He needed weapons and supplies, though, and the school potentially held both. Guns and ammunition, no, but he could find the things he needed to make some pretty decent weapons. The nurse's office would have medical supplies as well. More than that though, there could be survivors in there, people who needed help, who could help him in return. He'd run up until now, but the lure of weapons was too much for him to resist. Add in that he might be able to save a few people, and the deal was done.

The parking lot stood between him and the main building. The long wide open space stretched before him like the mouth of hell. The cars and trucks lining both sides turned into sinister hiding places for the would-be zombies. He only had a handful of bullets left in the revolver. These things were not like the zombies you saw on TV either. Well, some of them were, but the rest were fast. They defied their counterparts on the TV shows and in the books he'd read over the years. Whatever caused all this to happen also evened the playing field between the humans the zombies. They had just as much of an advantage as he did, maybe even more so. They were harder to put down than he was.

With a sigh, he looked at his options. He could run straight for the door or he could go slow, watching everything around him. His last option was to pick a side and go car by car, clearing a path. That would be the safest option, but he had few bullets left. If he tried to leave nothing behind him, he'd get eaten. Hell, he'd feel better about either option if he had a decent knife. All he had was a pocket knife. It would just make them mad.

Given his limited supply of weapons, there was really only one choice to make. Say a prayer and then run like hell.

Dean inched his way to the first car. No signs of life anywhere, but he'd discovered that meant next to nothing. These things were smart. Some of them stayed quiet until he got to within grabbing distance. If not for his combat training, he'd have been zombie food an hour ago. Who would have ever thought zombies could be that fast? They were supposed to be dead, unable to move at more than a disjointed shuffle. He'd have to have a chat with some of the writers of zombie fiction if he survived this.

He secured his backpack and then gripped his gun tight. With a quick prayer, he set off at a dead run. He kept his attention focused on the door while listening to the sounds around him. Just as he'd thought, movement came to life all around him. The zombies started to stand, some slowly, some with a deadly intent. Fingers brushed his arm, his hair, caught at his backpack. He pushed on, ignoring the hissing around him.

The door stood not more than twenty feet away, ten feet, five feet...

One of them grabbed his backpack and pulled hard. He fell backward and let out a curse. Bringing his gun up, he shot into the mouth that was rapidly descending towards him. Flesh and bone sprayed his face and his jacket, but he didn't blink. He rolled and brought his gun up, ready to fire. There was no need. The others were ravaging the body that he'd put down. Disgusted, he got to his feet and lost no more time in getting into the building.

The hallway Dean stood in was silent and as dark as the night he'd just come in from. He could hear the sounds of the feeding going on outside, but nothing else. Thank you, God. He let out a sigh of relief. He'd made it.

The first floor of most modern schools held the lunchroom. Knives of all shapes and sizes should be in the kitchen. Granted, he wouldn't be able to find a good hunting knife, but a stout butcher knife should be almost as good. There should be staples there as well.

He checked his gun. Three rounds left in the clip and he only had two more clips in his pocket. His ammo was running extremely low. He'd been looking for a sporting goods store, but had been unable to find one. If he didn't find one soon, his gun was going to be useless to him. The store should be equipped with a better supply of guns. He'd almost sell his soul for a good pump action shotgun right now.

The first door on the left looked to be the main office. He gave it a quick glance, but there was no movement in there. The office might have a map. The nurse's station was almost always housed in the office. There would be medical supplies. Should he go there first or get weapons? Weapons first. He needed to be able to defend himself. He'd definitely hit the office on his way out.

About three hundred feet stood between him and the double doors at the end of the darkened hallway. There was another set about halfway down, but he'd bet those led to the auditorium. Those things could smell him. He'd figured that out early on. If the auditorium was full of hungry zombies they'd get a whiff of him as he strolled past on his way to the cafeteria. He reloaded his gun with a full clip just in case.

He took three steps and stopped, listening to the dark. Nothing. Five feet later, he paused just on the other side of the auditorium doors. Definite shuffling. Maybe they didn't know how to open the doors? Most zombie fiction portrayed them as stupid, grotesque parodies of dead flesh reanimated. So far these zombies defied any fiction he'd ever come across. Chances were good they could open a door. Six more doors stood between him and the cafeteria.

The auditorium door shook. His head snapped back around to it. Yeah, best not to wait around and test any new theories. He took off at a dead run. He heard the doors give way. Oh damn. He pushed harder, forcing his legs to move faster. He ran straight into the cafeteria doors and slammed them behind him. There was a janitor's broom right beside the door. He grabbed it and jammed it through the bars that served as door handles. That should hold them for a few minutes.

Now, what about all the hissing zombies staring at him like he was the Sunday dinner special at Cracker Barrel?