Chapter 21: 24 Hours Later

There was a white wooden door. Beyond that was a room, with a round window directly on the opposite end. This window was bordered by vertical and horizontal lines splitting it into four equal panes. To the left end of the room were a series of sliding doors with grilles running across them from left to right - what would appear typically as the doors of a wardrobe. The far corner between the wardrobe and the window was a dresser with a small square stool underneath, and a mirror against the wall right in front. Colourful tubs, tubes and boxes of trinkets litter the table along with a couple of odd-shaped combs with handles shaped like butterflies. On the other end of the room was a double bed, flanked by two bedside tables. A thick layer of pink sheet lined the bed, and underneath it a little girl laid in deep slumber.

The golden ray of morning sun stroked the girl's face, stirring her a little. Her eyelids parted slightly, then squinted at the harsh morning light. The clock on one of the bedside tables read 7:15 AM. It was a Saturday, which meant she would still be able to sleep a little longer for there was no school that day. But she rolled out of bed anyway. Her feet struck warm carpeted floor beneath her, the same carpet that would run throughout the entire first floor of her house. Having found her fluffy slippers, the girl shuffled out of her room and down the stairs. There was complete silence in the house, save the occasional creaking of wood from beneath her feet. Her hair in a mess, her pyjamas riddled with an array of cartoon prints.

She remembered her mom promising her pancakes this morning, and she directed herself towards the kitchen at the back end of the house. Passing through the archway into the kitchen, the floor switched from the comfortably warm timber to cold tiles. Inside were rows of cabinets spanning three walls, both overhead and table-top. In the middle of the square room was an island counter with stoves and sinks. No sign of her mom. 

"Mommy?"

She should still be making pancakes now. But the entire kitchen was empty. The girl walked halfway around the island counter, eyes scanning the table tops for any plate filled with pancakes left there by her mom. Nothing. If she would have paid attention to the ground she would have found her feet barely missing a few knives scattered on the ground, and that there were a thick puddle of dark liquid on the far corner of the kitchen floor. The sudden crashing sound caught her attention. She figured, judging by the direction of the sound, that it could've been the trash can at their front porch. Backtracking, she made her way out the front door. Opening the door sent a gust of sunlight pouring into the else dark living hall, blinding the girl for a while. 

After regaining sight, she walked through the doorway into the porch. To her right was a grass lawn with a wooden patio. To her right was a garage. Her mom's car was parked right outside, it seemed to have been untouched since yesterday evening. Along the rocky path leading to the outer edges of the unfenced yard was the trash can, now toppled over and it's contents strewn across the ground. As she approached the toppled trash can she couldn't help but notice the neighbourhood rather quiet that morning. Uncle Bob from the opposite house wasn't blowing dried leaves. The next door dog would not bark at her like it would always do. She did not catch it, but birds were not chirping either that morning. 

It could've been a stray cat rummaging the can for leftover food. Scanning around the vicinity, she found a figure a few houses down to the left of her's. From far she seemed to be hovering around one spot, with her head slightly stooped as if looking for something she'd dropped. Being the kind Samaritan everyone seemed to be in this neighbourhood, the girl hurried over to offer a hand. 

"Good morning lady. Did you lose something?"

She approached the figure and saw it had long, slightly unkept hair. 

"Maybe I can help you with it."

As she got closer she noticed the lady's skin along her arms and legs pale grey with dirt marks all over. It didn't bother her much until she came face to face with the lady and found her facial expression empty, her cheeks sunken and eyes hollow. For a split second, both of them stood motionless staring at each other. The girl had no idea what to make of what was standing before her. Then as the lady reached her arms out and opened her bloody mouth, letting out a growl. Panic set in. Sensing danger, the girl turned about and started for her house as fast as her little legs can take her. She let out a loud shriek. She could hear the growl of the lady growing louder and louder behind her, but she didn't have the courage nor the time to turn around and scan her position. In the midst of the panic her foot caught what could have been the curb and crashed face first to the ground. Her heart was already pounding as if it would tear off her chest right now. 

She turned around to find the lady right over her, arms with bony long fingers reaching out. She closed her eyes and cried.

"MOMMY!!!!!!!!" 

Chapter 20: White Knuckles

His eyes caught the dog, less than a foot from him, its mouth agape and bloody teeth threatening to puncture into his flesh. His Arclite could not reach the dog in time. Even if it could, lighting the dog on fire at this distance would create a splash-back onto himself. I released my rifle and the sling around my body caught it at my left thigh, hurried for the handgun strapped to my waist holster. As quick as I can be, I was clearly not quick enough. Kheez ducked to his right, using his left arm as his shield. 

Just as the dog was about to claw onto Kheez, I saw it's head exploding from behind. And again. Blood spewed out and the dog dropped lifeless on the ground, it's head resting on Kheez's left foot. I turned around and saw Pyut walking towards me, lowering his handgun. He managed to sink the two bullets into it's mouth. 

"Reload. Now!" He commanded. 

I threw my right knee to the ground, turned my rifle over and ejected three empty magazines. They jumped out and landed onto the tarmac nearby, smoking from heat. Kheez and Pyut overlapped my corner and protected me while I reloaded the three slots on my rifle. Night Cat was already exiting his post inside the building, which usually signals that fatty is nearby.

"Guys, we got a slight problem."
Simultaneously we searched for him over on the far left corner of the street. He was back-pacing towards us with his eyes through the scope, still throwing as much damage as he can possibly deal to his target. A stray dog was racing towards him, but he was clearly unaware as his attention was through the scope. Pyut neutralized it with two bullets, the hollow shells from his handgun barely made din when hitting the ground under the thunderous echo of the Black Arrow.

"There are three of them."

Our eyes grew wide. A sudden panic flooded our heads. For a moment there I could see myself fumble on the cartridges. We looked at each other and even under the warm street halogen I could already see the faces of Kheez and Night Cat pale. I could not imagine mine in any better condition. Handling one fatty itself has already taken so much of our explosives, we couldn't imagine the damage needed to neutralize three of them at the same time. Then we turned to Pyut, he appeared calm and collected.

"As the waves progress, we attract more fatties. The plan is to be able to get all or most of the fatties together in one place so we can run around town without the risk of being cornered." Pyut explained.
"Then you can go save your hostages and retrieve your data." So it was in Pyut's plan all along to complete our mission.


"I'm gonna slowly drop my guns and raise my hands." He carefully squat to his knees and placed his handgun onto the cement floor. Then with both hands he unslung the rifle out and dropped it down. He raised both his hands and placed them just behind his head, slowly he stood up again. There it is, movement in the darkness behind some tables some few meters in front of him. There was shuffling as the figure crawled out from below one of the tables. Just as he thought, one person act as a decoy in one side and the other one wait on the opposite corner to take advantage of the situation. He was already cursing himself for falling into a trap as stupid as this. As the figure drew closer, some light managed to illuminate it very slightly, then it was gone. Crucist could see the figure holding something extended far out, pointing at him. Must be a gun. This is the perfect opportunity.

Chapter 19: The Scavanger

Before him was a long corridor stretching into what seemed to be eternal darkness. Tables and chairs scattered all around. If he would have to run across this hallway, he thought, he'd have some trouble navigating around. There was darkness along this hallway but it wasn't complete to allow his eyes the opportunity to adapt. Doors leading into rooms would flood street lights into the hallway and occasional breeze that managed to find its way into the building would cause the dust sediments otherwise dormant to lift and retard vision further. But vision wasn't the only sense Crucist relies on. 

He turned to face one of the rooms to his left and entered. The sound, previously ambient, now grew louder. They echo from the walls beyond the shattered windows leading out of the building he was in. The inconsistent tapping of triggers from two rifles overlapping each other. They must be Ixate and Pyut. Then there was a constant thumping sound that rattled the walls. Night Cat was concentrating his fire on the fatty. This was the third one tonight. 

Just how many are there? What was Pyut planning to do, keeping us stuck in one place? 

With his rifle against his back swinging from a sling across his chest, Crucist managed to free both his hands to look for whatever Pyut sent him to find in this building. He was told there were some medpacks and ammo boxes stashed in here, and he was to find them and bring them back to the team before their supplies run out. As he was quietly pulling drawers out to examine their insides a loud shriek came from the hallway behind him. Immediately he pulled out his handgun from his waist holster and disengaged the safety lock. He was now facing the door leading out of the room, silent, his gun ready. Slowly he crept towards the edge of the doorway and peeked out of the corner where he thought the sound came from. 

It must've been one of the steel-legged tables being moved. Apart from the shadows of scattered furniture and stagnant dust hovering in the air nothing was out of the ordinary. No sign of life. Only the top half of the hallway was lit, so whatever moved the table could be hiding at the bottom half. He moved out into the hallway and slowly inched towards the sound. Suddenly he could hear a deep exhale behind him, and just as he was about to throw his gun around, he felt cold steel touching the back of his neck. It was the barrel of a gun. He could swear on it. 

There was one on my left. Two taps on the forehead and it collapsed, the back of it's head exploding and dark blood splatting all over the wall behind it. That used to be a living person. As it dropped, three more emerged from behind. One person and the other two animals. Two on the forehead of the person, and two by the neck of the animal. The dogs were harder to kill. I had to get the bullets in between their armored shells. I spent four bullets on the last dog - one on the foreleg to slow it down, one at the forehead to lift it's head and the other two at the gap between the armored shells beneath it's neck. Further right was Kheez. He swung the Arclite rightwards, drenching a dog full of fire and kicking it back with his left leg  

His left side was exposed. There was a dog running towards him. I aimed at it, bullets catching it's body, throwing it onto the ground right in front of Kheez. The bullets did not kill it. It regained it's stance and was about to make the pounce again when I found the base of it's neck with my iron sight and squeezed the trigger to kill. 

Click.. Click.. Click...

"Fuck. Kheez!" 

Chapter 18: Friendly Fire

The room was dark. Plastic chairs scattered across one half of the room, and the other a canvas drape reflecting green and white lights from a projector machine. The light barely illuminated the room's occupants; two men and two women clad in dark tactical clothing with what seemed like pockets and velcro straps running all over, but excluding the proper name tags, badges, stars and stripes that reflect actual military.

The silhouette of a man is drawn from the light bouncing off the canvas he was standing directly next to. He seemed to be in a full suit, probably even a tie.

"Gentlemen" he spoke.

"We received intel there is another team in the vicinity of Boston City. They appear to be a potential threat to our allies."

The photos on the canvas switches between portraits of 4 men, obviously military. Every time the slide runs between photos, the room falls into complete darkness. And as the next photo appeared, the faces of the two men and women were lit again.

"Your orders are to neutralize all threat to our allies."

Heads turned to face each other, no particular expression was given. 

"You leave in 0600."

Everyone got up and left the room. There was less than 3 hours until 0600. 

We returned to the cross junction. I was busy filling my empty magazines up with fresh bullets and strapping them around my storage belt. Empty shells scattered all around, some managed to scar the tarmac road a little with the heat generated when they combusted within the gun barrels. On the west junction water was still being drained out through the gutters by the curb. They were reflecting rainbow-coloured stains. Kheez's petrol perhaps. 

Crucist was just exiting a building from the far left edge of the east junction, holding what appeared to be scavenged ammunition and a black rifle. As he came closer we managed to catch the make of the rifle he had with him. 

"Dude that's the same as mine," Night Cat exclaimed. No mistake, it was the Black Arrow.

"I didn't know this gun was mass-produced," Kheez asked. 

"Neither did I," Night Cat shrugged as he grabbed the gun from Crucist for a closer inspection. He laid it down on the ground and took it apart piece by piece. 

"It's not the same as mine. This is stock. Standard Issue."

"Which means..." I turned to look at Pyut. 

"I don't know. This is the closest I've ever come to discovering who they are."

"They're our own? Then why would they be out to hunt us down?" Night Cat was already getting furious. He then turned to Pyut.

"You said 'who they are'. What do you mean by that?"

There was silence. We could already hear an angry mob of monsters' wail ricocheting off the walls of surrounding buildings. There was an unsettling mood in the air, but this was no time for interrogation. We all needed to get ready for the next wave of attacks. Quietly everyone took our spots, occasional eye-contacts thrown around between the guys followed by muted movement of lips. Pyut was more interested in planting claymores up north. 

Chapter 17: The Bait

Pyut had a cluster of claymores scattered in a radial vicinity up north, just as the road turns east. Me and Night Cat were frantically clearing up mobs around Kheez as he focuses his fire on the more lethal creeps; four legged and clad in thick bone armors.

"Night." Pyut ordered.

"Sir." Night Cat had his Black Arrow slung around his body and is now busy driving bullets into the skull of lesser monsters using both his handguns. 

Pyut placed his fore and middle finger to his lips and rolled his eyes one side. 

Night Cat stopped and took a whiff of the air. Nothing but the stench of rotten flesh and blood, burning barrels and the occasional fuel from down south. Then he sensed the wind turning north east, there it was. Faint but very distinct. He immediately disappeared from the group, leaving me to cover for Kheez.

"Kheez, regroup. I can't.." 

"No. Kheez, you stay there." Pyut interrupted me. I immediately felt my command in my own team demeaned by an outsider. Sure he could pull rank over me, but I couldn't help but felt insulted. Pyut then turned to look at me and I could read his lips: trust me.

We continued to work according to plan. Pyut ran up north to lay some extra claymores on the ground, then called for us to retreat north and then east at the turn of the road. Kheez overlapped him and started towards me. The gigantic fatty tailed us, each of his step covered a thousand of ours. There were not many stray creeps left and we were already starting to gain control of the situation. 

As fatty inches near the cluster of claymore, Pyut pulled out his grenade launcher and held it up about 30 degrees upwards to keep the target spot within his projectile range. 

When fatty was dead in the middle of the claymores, Pyut launched the grenade and it set off a chain explosion that tore fatty into a million little shreds with parts and blood scattering across the road and walls. The deafening explosions were like an endless echo constantly regenerating itself after losing wavelength, over and over again. After a good minute the last claymore detonated and we could hear the sound traveling further and further away from our position.

"That's gonna attract the attention of the others." Pyut said, signaling us to return to the cross junction where our supplies were stashed. 

"Others? How many exactly are there?" I asked, obviously a stupid question that left my mouth sooner than I can process. The fact that he knew exactly what to expect could only mean that he has done this more than once. 

"Can't tell. 5. 10."

Kheez was behind me, further to the east, clearing up the left over human creeps. I turned to catch up with Pyut who was now headed back to the supplies, wanting to find out why he sent Night Cat away from the group and held Kheez so far from the rest of us. Then a loud bang broke the peace that previously came after fatty's death.

"Kheez." Pyut called.

"'sup?" he turned to face Pyut, a cigar in his mouth

"Thanks for being an obedient bait."

Kheez struck a confused glance at me the same time my eyes met his.