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Hey, everyone! Sorry it took so long, but here's my weekly update. Enjoy,




Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.


BOOM, it came again in a series of four. I tried to yell, but even my ears were deaf to my voice. BOOM, once again the sound came and I flinched. Michael’s grip tightened around my waist, but his position remained the same. BOOM.

The initial sound echoed throughout the courtyard like a fallen bomb, yet we stood. The blast continued all around, from each direction; the north wall, south wall, east wall, and lastly the west. Out of his stupor, Michael’s hands covered my ears and pressed me closer to his body. Blinded, I only had the vibrations from the floor and muffled noises slip through his fingertips to indicate which direction was next.

Suddenly, the bombs stopped. An eerie silence pulled me from Michael’s chest, and I blanched. Exposed, the red and white tile floor oozed black pond under our feet, while piled up Zs writhed amongst the fallen ones.  Seconds passed, before a fresh wave of rotting flesh consumed the air. With immediate impact, Michael raised the Beretta and pointed as starved, angry Z’s replace ones down from the bomb. A swarm shot from the east double doors; another came through the north and south; the west doors remained shut.  

“One… two…one…two, ”Michael counted, waited for a crucial moment to fire. However, he didn’t pass his third set. With violent shakes, the undead froze in mid-step. Madly, their hands flailed around and spun, some bent over in agony. They let out a horrifying wail, completely opposite from their natural growl.

Curious, I spun in the opposite direction to witness more Z’s frozen. “What’s happening to them?” I asked over the silence.

A pair of red eyes looked at us from ten feet away; his gory face was partly severed at the jaw while what was intact held a bluish gray tinged.  Despite his hands clawed at his ears and blood oozed through his fingers, the Z’s hungry eyes watched us.

Immediately, the place was washed with bright stadium lights and the magnitude of Z’s in the courtyard astonished me. What we previously thought of the undead beyond these walls paled in comparison to what stood in front of us.  With the lights on, all the Z’s exuded black from their ears; some dripped from the orifice through rotten fingertips. Circled, I watched in disbelief at all the mutilated faces suffering from an invisible threat and then it clicked. We stood at the center of a holding grounds for the undead. With no prior experience of one, these stables for Z’s were considered the people’s remedy against the disease, when the government went dark. Stories spoke about the tricks used to attract Zs and the experiments people carried out to discover the predator’s weaknesses. Because of no communication, no one could ever say who ran these centers, or if they really worked; tons of small scale ones existed but so did their stories of being overrun. What we looked at now, was an elaborate operation; a well oiled machine, but by who.

Michael’s grip pulled me closer to him; my back flat against his chest, my head against his shoulder. “Follow me,” he whispered and he led me backwards. The slow moment caught the attention of some torturous souls. Yellow, infected eyes followed us, mangled arms lashed out to grab hold, only to scream and drop to the floor. “What’s happening to them?” I asked as we watched more drop to the floor in agony.

“Something’s not right. Someone is keeping them here, somehow controlling them,” he replied.

“I know, but how are they controlling them?” I pondered.

We created a ten foot distance from where we last stood, before our security shattered. With a menacing cry, a six foot Z broke free of the pain and started running to us. Adamant, the corpse leap over crushed bodies like a gymnast, teeth chattered with his sight on a prize. Michael raised the gun and counted. Encouraged by a reaction, long, ravenous fingers reached out for us as another scream escaped his lips. Heart pounded, beaded sweat poured; Michael continued to count.  Finger on the trigger...

“Ahh…” I screamed, and watched as the creature drop; a bullet hole marked the killing spot. However, the absent kickback from the pistol gained my suspicions. Michael forced me behind him, the gun raised to the second level balcony, trigger finger ready. Like a hawk, he made quick work of searching the balcony, but the bright lips blocked obscured most of the view. Instantly, I unsheathed my bow and aimed as well; our backs together, eyes held high.

“Do you see anyone,” he whispered.

“No one, just these fuckers.”  I continued to scan, round and round, until something caught my eye; a silhouette over to the left. Quickly, I turned full on toward the figure and squinted. It was a figure. I sent a whistle, which Michael caught and glanced at me. My eyes looked at him and then went back to the balcony, before chills crawled up my spine. One was spotted, but now there stood two figures. Slowly, more figures crept into the light, joined by their proximity. “Michael, there’s people up on the balcony,” I called.

“Got it.” Quickly, we made a loop; eyes rotated from the second floor and the ground level. As the seconds ticked by armed men in black military gear came forward until more than fifty heads stared down at us.

“Lower you weapons!”

Suddenly, a static rained from the heavens and the announcement was made again.  Nervous, doubtful, and downright scared, my hand shook as my aim continued. I picked the first shadow that lurked and drew my arm back. “Weapons, down, now!”

 “Fuck…” Michael cursed. “Lower your bow, Celeste.” The Beretta was already at his feet, yet I wouldn’t give up so easily.

“No.” A heavy feeling anchored itself to my gut. Between being stuck amongst hundred undead and armed forces with weapons pointed down, I grew a set of balls and let my distrust be known. There something wrong with these people, and whatever they had going on.

“You’re going to get yourself killed for nothing, Celeste,” Michael strained, his hands raised in surrender.

“We need an escape plan,” I urged and suddenly, he forced one on me.

“This is the escape plan.” Michael walked right in the aim of my arrow and brought his hands down to mine. Still shaky, he pulled them away my weapon and took it from me; his eyes with mine. “I made a promise and I fully intend to keep you safe,” he professed.  I nodded and then the gravity of the last hour sunk in. Jasper.  My heart cried for my friend. Michael saw and embraced me again, placed the bow behind his back, looked up at the men, and called out, “We are only looking for a place to sleep. We had no intentions to harm anyone or trespass.” Silence.

Within seconds, a pungent smell of a butcher shop filled the air. I gagged, vomit leaped to my esophagus. The remaining undead sniffed the air, their attentions adverted.

“Don’t move…or you’ll draw their attention back, and this time we can’t stop them,” the announcer spoke, again.  Without breathing, I watched the Z’s spin and run toward the smell, mouths wide and hunger cries echoed. The vast space emptied seconds later; all that remained were the torn apart carcasses from the bombs. Iron doors slammed shut and suddenly a door opened behind us; the west hallway. Gas masked figures moved busted through, guns aimed at the floor. They made quick work with the Z’s that were left behind. Finished, they lined up before us in execution style.

“Well look what we have here…” A man broke formation and advanced. He stopped about five feet from us, his rifle hung from a strap across his arm.

“We don’t want trouble.” Michael voiced immediately.

“That’s what they always say.” The man’s weathered voice was the only proof of his age. By the look of him, he wasn’t tall either, maybe 5’7.  You couldn’t tell how much of his bulky figure came from padding and pure strength. “So how d’you  get in?”

“The main tunnel,” Michael answered truthfully. The man paused, looked at someone in line and then turned back to us.

“Are you alone…?”

“No, our friend…he was caught in the hallway you entered from. You must have passed him, he was right before the doors. Do you see him, were you able to help him?” Immediately, I called out and inched forward. The door was shut behind them so I couldn’t see his body, wished that his body was still there and not turned. However, the man didn’t share my interest.

“How do you know about the tunnel?” He came closer, his face plate aimed up at Michael.

Michael didn’t respond, he surveyed the lineup and looked back the man. “I saw the gate and took a chance, “ he lied.

“Name…?”The man shouted, sensed Michael’s obscurity.

“Charles Darwin,” was Michael’s response.  “…and she’s Amelia Earheart.”

Immediately, the man let out a deafening cackle and turned toward the rest of the crew. His laughter sent me cowered into Michael’s back. The man recited the names in humor, paced in front of us, until he grew silent. Quickly, he turned, rifle raised toward Michael’s head, and the lineup followed suit. I gasped, but kept my eyes opened. “Do you think I was born yesterday, boy? I am the one who decides if you live, or become a nighttime snack.” Slowly, the man exposed himself. Deep, raw scars covered his cinnamon face, deep set hazel eyes sagged, with one red and cloudy. His broken nose had reset awkwardly and curved in the middle. Patches of hair grew across his lips in a thin moustache, and that’s where facial hair ended. A skull cap covered what I presumed as a bald head. I guessed his age in the fifties, but the damages he bared would age anyone.  

In the near distance, another bomb went off and snatched the man’s attention. He slammed his mask back into place and then turned toward the lineup. “Let’s move, boys.” All at once, the men rotated 180 degrees and began to run back in. Michael grabbed me hand, scooped up the gun and ran after.

“Hey, what about us?” he yelled as we made our way to the west hallway.

“If you want to live, you better keep up,” and for the first time he regarded me. “It’s your time to fly.”

We crossed the courtyard in seconds, and passed through the double doors. Two guarded men waited and shut them immediately after we entered.  Ten other soldiers split in the middle and stood evenly on both sides, while the older man took up the lead. Weapons raised, Michael and I were surrounded in their protection by the silent men.

The leader pointed forward and slowly, mirrored feet moved, pulled us with them. The two men at the doors took up the rear and closed us inside the circle. Once again, my bow and arrow was raised and I listened for the sharp taps of the dogs.

With hastened footsteps, we moved closer to the spot I left Jasper. My eyes went to linoleum immediately and I edged closer to the man on my right. Through small gaps, a blood trailed could be seen, paw marks led away. In and out, my breaths increased as anxiety filled me. I prayed that his body was left, that some sign would show that he was not with the damned. What I found instead was disheartened. A puddle of blood outlined a missing body, booted footsteps made a trail further into the building.

 A small cry distracted the group, had the leader looking back at me, while Michael’s hand found my arm. A slight tug pulled me from my grief and the group charged on. “He’s gone,” I whispered more to myself than for anyone else’s confirmation. Tears shed down my cheek, but I pulled out of Michael’s grasp and kept my arrow eye levelled.

Quickly, we were lead through a series of hallways, while bombs rocked the structure. My eyes were trained on anything that looked to be a Z, particular Jasper. I could still save him, I thought. There was still a chance to end his misery. I wasn’t sure if Michael had the same intentions, so I kept a look out on both sides of the hallway.

Continuously, we moved through the main floor, without a sign of dogs or anything else. We passed the grated vent duct to see that it was still in place. I shivered with memory of the tormented corpses in the basement, huddled together.

We came toward another set of doors and paused. The leader ripped his mask off and looked toward a small black box. Instantly, there was a click and the weighted barrier opened with struggle. We moved through the threshold and the doors were shut.

Masks were lifted from all the armed men and their attentions came to us. With bow still raised, the soldier that stayed to my right looked at me and placed his hands on my arrow. I looked up at the dark hair, green eyed stranger as his fingers slid down my arrow and lightly touched my fingers. Callous digits wrapped around me and the arrow dropped to my side. “You are safe now,” he whispered, however I couldn’t look away from him. There was something familiar in his eyes.

 “Are you hurt?” I heard over my shoulder and the old man approached us.

“No, I don’t think so,” Michael answered and the man’s eyes came to me.

“How about you, girl?”

“No,” I answered. His eyes raked my body and Michael’s arm moved around my waist; he noticed the man’s attention as well.

“Military?” The old man asked and Michael had his attention again.

“Yes, Navy Seal, however, I got out right before the…”

“You mean you went missing?” The guy accused and I swallowed. There was something dangerous in his tone and I opted to interrupt but Michael spoke.

“The government and I didn’t quite see eye to eye,” Michael answered and I doubt that was the right thing to say. The man looked toward the guy to my right, an internal exchange, before he dismissed the rest of the guys. Once the four of us stood alone, the older guy surveyed us once more and instructed we follow him.

We crossed a large administration office, with rows of desks and maps along the wall and comments marked in chalk. More men were in here, in the same black gear. Once we entered, they saluted the older man, but stared at us. Bells on the wall screamed throughout the room with north and east written above them. Another bomb went off and bells went crazy. Several guys wrote vigorously, their eyes on the alarms and a map of the campus.

We continued to follow until we came to a smaller office. He ushered us in, closed the door only when the younger soldier stood outside the room. Immediately, he looked at us, eyes traced our weapons. “I’m going to suggest that your weapons stay by your side, untouched. We’re going to have a little chat. I’m curious how a SEAL goes rogue and how a pilot gets reinvented.”

He finished and silently observed us, turned away when he found nothing and moved toward a set of mahogany cabinets. He pulled out a decanter filled with brown liquid and three glasses. I opened my mouth to decline but Michael reached over and covered my lips. He shook his head and then removed his hand, all the while the black clad leader continued to pour.

Amber splashed from the container like escapees from their glass prison. They landed peacefully in the cups and waited like delectable treats. Gently, he positioned everything, even the decanter under his and the older man crossed the space. “Twenty five year old bourbon, we found it still in its burnt wood barrel at some distillery in Kentucky.” He looked at the coloring and then sniffed the treasure, but took a small sip. “The key is to cherish it, like a warm body on a cold morning.” He took another and then looked at us.

Michael was the first to taste, while I inhaled the sweet aroma. “mmm…” I muttered at the heat that filled me, like spicy smoke injected through my bloodstream. I brought the glass up and tilted it slowly. My tongue waited with hesitation, this was the first time I had such refined liquor since the war. It was also the first time I drunk with two strangers. I allowed myself a small taste, even though it looked to others that I took more. The heat in the smell carried over to the taste and sent an explosion through my taste buds. Bitter was followed by sweet and woody. I allowed another small taste before looking at the others.

“What do you think?” the older man asked.

“Perfection…” I whispered over the glass.

His eyes were still on me, an ease chilled my body down from the Bourbon. I reminded myself of the last hour and sobered enough to grab my curiosity back.  “What is your name?”

“Marine Sgt. Cornwell Norris,” he answered honorably.

“What exactly is this place?” Michael asked instantly. He was on edge. From the moment the men were exposed, he attached me to his shadow, surveyed each guy as prey would their predators. I had an innate sense that I missed what spooked him.

“Well, let us just jump right to it. Please take a seat,” Norris pointed to a couch behind us, while he pulled up a small aluminum chair across from the desk. As I took my seat and watched everyone do the same, I couldn’t help but noticed how big the man seemed amongst everything in this room. There was simplicity about the décor, a delicacy in the furniture, that foreign to him. This was not his office.  

Norris settled deeper into his seat and downed another glass of Bourbon. He wiped his moustache on the back of his gloved hand and poured another serving. “This son, is the main base of the biggest operation against the apocalypse.” Curious, I edged closer and listened to his every word. “At the start of the downfall, several military bases, forts, and academies were shut down for optimum opportunities. Most of the lower levels commanders and soldiers were sent to the front line of the fight, while the Corporals and Sergeants were stationed other places.”

“So this is all military?” Michael interrupted and Norris denied.

“Absolutely, not. This is all the people; scientists, doctors, lawyers, even down to farmers. The killing of America’s sons and daughters brought trouble for our top leaders….”

“Which caused the darkness,” I added as his story fit in with the rumors I heard.

“Exactly, all communication ceased. The president sent one last farewell speech and left the civilians to defend themselves.”

“This doesn’t explain the holding of Z’s at a well-known military base,” Michael stated.

“All you have to do is think about it. Remember the rumors about the undead born as a weapon of war. Well, many believed this to be true, so experimentations started. The American people longed for a cure, not just a solution, and the progress began. This base was perfect. It was already built to examine those things. The military jump started our progress. They provided enough working space for us to observe the behavior patterns of the undead, without compromising innocents, and the better part was that the government forgot all about their initial plans.”

“How do you explain all the uniforms?” Michael inquired right away. Even though Norris was adamant on separation between state and public, everything we looked at screamed military.

Norris opened the collar of his black coat, revealed a bulletproof vest and a small silver chain identical to Michael’s. “You know this academy, son. It’s engraved into your mind more than the home you grew up in. Even now, there’s a comfort, an ease from your return. That feeling is what most of the soldiers you see felt in the end; they wanted to return to a place that they knew like the back of their hand, and that is here.” The Sgt. elaborated, which seemed ironic since this place was abandoned and filled with Zs, but something in his words sunk in deep for Michael. Truth became the Sgt.’s words which reached out and grabbed Michael. His eyes glazed over, the wall beyond the Sgt. became a focal point. His profile hid his expression, but I sensed his mental vacancy. My attention went to the Sgt. who sat with a slight smile, almost like he cracked a code. This must be the way he won all his recruits. I mimicked the older man’s expression out of politeness but reached for my glass in search of a distraction. “So tell a poor man, who hasn’t been in the presence of such a beautiful woman in so long, where are you from?”

Flattered and uneasy with his comment, I answered quickly. “New York City.”

His eyes widened in surprise. “You’ve travelled a long way. I can only imagine your ambitions must be a treasured one.”

“It is. I am to find a cabin for a friend…” I chuckled awkwardly at the senselessness of my answer, pain etched into my voice.

“And your friend…?” he looked at Michael.

“No, not him. “ An image came forth of long, wavy sandy blonde hair blowing in the wind from the Subway train, while Jasper laughed behind the girl. I thought of the pictures she showed me of her family countless times and the directions she demanded we follow for safety. It saddened me that she was not here to speak of her own goal. “Samantha’s mother once told us that whenever we were in trouble, we could always sail away to Haven, to Haven’s Cove,” I whispered and missed the sudden spark behind the Sgt.’s eyes.

“Haven’s Cove, sounds like a fairy tale? Where is this cove?“ Norris recovered quickly and poured another round.

“Somewhere in northern Georgia, but who knows if it’s still there, or if I would be welcomed in.” I answered, doubtful that he listened, but the man inquired some more.

“Who is waiting at the cove?” However, this time I picked up on the familiarity in his voice. I glanced at him over my refill and observed.

“Friends…” I responded slowly and before much could happen, a bomb went off.

BOOM

The sound was so loud that the walls shook effortless and the bells loud scream went through the office doors. The floor groaned, vibrations sent a crack straight through the middle of the floor. Surprised, I jumped to my feet in an instant, while the Sgt. did the same. He ran straight for the door as someone pounded. The same soldier, who stood guard, now delivered hushed but fast words. The explosion brought Michael out of his stupor and the man readied his weapon.

“We need to leave…” he said immediately and looked toward boarded up windows.

BOOM

The ceiling cracked, and plaster fell in a violent rain.

BOOM

“Ahh…”I screamed as the ceiling light crashed down on top of the desk, while the glass windows shattered behind the boards. Michael provided cover and dragged me toward the door.

“…it’s too late. They are blowing holes in the walls, the Z’s are getting in…” the soldier reported back to the Sgt.

Dark complexion pale in the lighting and he turned to me. Grave eyes struggled with a decision but another blast sent him spluttering out results. “Let’s move, quickly.”

A series of events had me once again racing against time through hallways, as walls collapsed and doors busted open. The angry screams of locked up Z’s filled the halls and signaled the hell that waited for us. In a pack of 12, Norris made sure that Michael and I were well protected and circled, even though we were armed. We ran in the opposite direction, toward the east wing of the building. This side exposed several laboratory rooms with stark white walls and steel tables. One room was equipped with testing tube station and hazmat suits sectioned off at the entry. Amazed by the legitimacy of all the equipment and the money that was required to create this space, I felt fooled. When you traveled for so long without seeing any existence of wealth, good, or even exploration, I couldn’t imagine why people trying to save the world.

The stench of Z’s alerted me and the group immediately stopped. I ran into Michael’s back, who had his hand gun raised and pointed ahead. A scream filled the air and l Iooked around him to see a pack of Z’s, however these were the ones held in the basement. I gasped as I took in the sight of these morphed creatures. Sans clothing or any item, they stood nude but altered. Their gray flesh looked almost silver and bruised. Skin sagged from exposed bones, while melted fat dripped off in clumps. Black circles replaced eyes and fallen noses left heart shaped holes. These hairless souls became visions of demons on Earth.

“Retract!” The Sgt. yelled and slowly, and synchronized black boots marched backwards. Another scream came from within the pack and before long all their mutilated heads jerked in our direction.
Move, move, move!” Immediately, the creatures ran with superhuman speed and guns began to fire. The soldiers in the front provided enough bullets to drop the front line of Z’s but more leaped over the dead and ran faster.

Swiftly, I turned and sprinted after the soldiers that were told to retreat. Suddenly a gloved hand grabbed mine and I noticed the Sgt. beside me. “I know the cabin…” he said in haste.

“What do you mean?” I asked, just as another bomb intercepted. Guns fired on a locked door as more Z’s appeared in the opposite hallway.

“Haven’s Cove is real and very much alive. Samantha was right.” I blanched at his words and time slowed. In the cover of the soldiers and Michael, the man carried my gaze and returned it with reassurance.

“Move, Celeste!” Michael interrupted, firing away with one of the military rifles. He was the one who snatched my other hand and led me through the now open double doors, and we immerged into darkness. Beyond the scent of the undead, pine trees welcomed us to hide. Michael half carried me toward the tree line, only to be repelled back by the hand still laced with the Sgt.’s. Beyond the sounds of bombs, screams of soldiers and Z’s, there was a deep rumble from above. I looked up to see a huge plane, camouflaged in the night’s sky. Red lights outline its bulky body and huge wind gusts alerted us of its closeness. The Sgt.’s soldiers looked up as well, astonishment laced across sweaty faces.

“I thought you weren’t military,” Michael yelled and approached the man. “Let her go!”

“I spoke the truth. We are the people and we’re here to fix what the government has started. These are their creations, their monsters!” Sgt. Norris answered emphasized ‘they’ by pointing toward the helicopter as fire blasted from its belly. Another blast hit and a stone tower fell. I looked at the man with a renewed sense. He was a rebel, an AWOL rebel; they all were.

I looked at Michael, who stared at me. I met his distrust, while the Sgt.’s finger still embraced mine. A slight tug pulled me toward Norris. “Your friend, her name was Samantha Sansom, and I’m going to assume that she is dead.” I nodded in disbelief. “Her sister was Haven, and that is her cove you seek?” I nodded once more. “Well, then let me help you. Come with us and I’ll take you to your cabin and your friend, Jasper.”

As time stood still, soldiers yelled for the last to join the convoys and escape. More helicopters appeared, bullets rained as if they were in a hurricane. Windows blew out, fires exploded through the building, and Z’s stormed around us. With no time, the Sgt.’s last words made my decision for me. I turned to Michael and placed my hand upon his cheek.

“Don’t fall for him…don’t you dare!” he demanded.

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.  Thank you for everything,” I whispered and was ripped away toward a black van. The Sgt. pushed me in and jumped in after me. The door slammed shut.

“Get us the hell out of here,” Norris ordered the driver.

 

 Regret pulled me from the confines of the vehicle as the van high-tailed through a path in the woods. My parting glance at my stranger was Michael sprinting toward the trees; his rifle held high and shots fired at the Z’s.  In that moment, I sent a silent prayer that someone watched out for him. 






Chapter End Notes:

What? Jasper's alive? Michael's gone? There's rebels? Who is waiting for Celeste at the cove? 

So many questions even I have to ask. Answers coming soon, as well as, new faces. Let's see if Celeste can weather the storm. 







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Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.