What could force a disgraced police officer, a pair of mafia hitmen, an army NCO, and a group of terrified civilians to band together for survival? Nothing short of the zombie apocalypse. The recently deceased are clawing from their graves and roami...
By the time the sun went down, it was evident that Boston had joined the long list of cities to fall during this catastrophic day.
The undead storm had overwhelmed all attempts to stand against it. In Boston's South End, law enforcement had managed to push back the tide only briefly. Eventually, the mass of reanimated corpses and deceased victims flowing into the city's interconnected maze of streets proved too much for the beleaguered defenders. The authorities scattered and fled for their lives, leaving neighborhoods in shambles and civilians at the mercy of the horde outside their doors.
The military fared little better. With their forces stretched too thin to punch through to the city's inner boroughs, they opted to concentrate their efforts on containing the infestation, rather than fighting it at the source.
Lacking a centralized command post and real-time satellite surveillance, the army peppered spotters and drones throughout Boston to monitor the mobs of corpses massing inside. From the decimated warzone of the South End to the reported stampede heading south through Brookline, the military carefully observed the dead, plotting their every move.
The scouts responsible for providing this data operated covertly, doing their best to remain hidden from everyone, dead and living alike. Not all of them were successful.
Personally, Tommy didn't give a squirt of piss about the crucial mission once held by the dead man in the urban camouflage uniform. All he cared about was bashing the zombie soldier's brains in with his shovel, before the infected sumbitch could sink his teeth into him.
"Stay down," he growled, smacking the scout's crushed cranium a second time, just to be sure. The lesson he learned from Massey was that it didn't pay to take chances with these ugly bastards. It was always better to make sure their brains were soup.
"Look at this," Eve called out.
He turned from his blood-spattered kill on the pavement to find her and Graves poking through the dead man's military Humvee. They nearly rammed into a half dozen zombies while skirting numerous wrecks on the I-93. As soon as the grizzled hitman spotted the armored vehicle parked diagonally half a block north from the intersection of Melnea Cass and the Mass Avenue Connector, Tommy knew what was going through his mind.
Sporting an M16 strapped to his back, Graves fished through the vehicle's armory for more weaponry. Eve, on the other hand, seemed more interested in the collection of equipment and papers up front. She motioned for them both to come examine her findings.
He returned to her side to find her carrying a torn section from a street map. It depicted shaded highlights around different areas, presumably based on estimated threat levels. Hastily penned markings scribbled on the paper showed further amendments, based on the soldier's findings.
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"What do you think?" she asked.
"Could we possibly have enough cemeteries and hospitals for one town?" Tommy grumbled.
