Of Tomb and Cradle

In the years after the dead began to walk, the living remnants

of humanity clamored to regain control of the world that no

longer belonged to them. Successfully liberated cities were

made into city-states, and an attempt to stop the disease that

the undead carried was undertaken by the what still passed

for the scientific community...

-Diary of an unknown officer

Part 1

"Kenneth!" Lindsey shouted. Shouting was often not a good idea, for it normally attracted more of them to a soldier's position; like sharks getting the scent of blood, screaming only led to a feeding frenzy, but the particular group of the restless dead that approached Lindsey and Kenneth's parameter already knew she was there - if they know anything at all. "Damn it, Kenneth! I need you over here now!"

Lindsey took careful aim at the zombie in the lead and pulled the trigger on her rifle. The top of it's head blew off like a cap, spraying congealed blood and skull fragments all over the others shuffling slowly behind it. It fell face-forward silently. It was too far away for her to hear the thud of its body.

Ever since Lindsey had become old enough to carry a rifle - which was quite young - she had learned a few things from bloody experience with the undead. They were stupid, often slow (until they got close enough to grab someone), quiet, clumsy, and they had a tendency to hunt in groups. Sometimes they would follow an alpha-zombie - one that happened to be wearing a uniform that had meant something when it was alive, like that of a police officer or soldier. It was hardly ever any smarter than its followers, but the others would not care. The alpha that Lindsey had shot down - a postal worker by the looks of it - had accumulated a rather substantial following. She had hoped the death of their "leader" would disperse a few of them, but no such luck.

Hell, the muzzle flash of her rifle would probably only cement the fact that there was a tasty human nearby. This used to work to people's advantage. A single squad, in a skirmish line, could easily mow down a few hundred zombies. The zombies would come where they heard the rifle fire, and just keep coming in droves. If there were only a few more soldiers with Lindsey, they could recreate such moments of carnage.

Of course, the only reason why Kenneth and she were the only two at their current position was because of the simple fact that there were just not many people left to fight. Sooner or later, ammunition would run low, but the horde of walking dead would still keep ambling forward in slow, stupid determination. Many forward positions had been "compromised" for that simple reason.

In the dawning days of whatever in the hell had caused every unburied body to decide to get up and eat the living, people had tried to quarantine the major cities. This had been one of the less intelligent moments of human history, for it left a lot of unprotected people at the mercy of the flesh eaters and one bite was always enough to infect a person. Lindsey often wondered what the National Guard had thought when they were overrun by a million or so corpses on the outskirts of Chicago, back in 2011.

Lindsey squeezed the trigger again.

Again.

And again.

Where the fuck is Kenneth?

Lindsey's rifle barked again.

Hell of a time for him to take a shit....or smoke a joint.

She lost track of the growing body count as her plight became increasingly frantic. There were many of them, this time...and they were getting closer. The noise she was making was attracting more of them. If Kenneth did not bring his ass up on the line with her, they would have to pull back.

With its last shell spent, her rifle clicked harmlessly. She ejected the magazine, and popped in a new one. Lindsey hated the idea of retreat. Had it been Patton who had once commented that he never paid for the same real-estate twice? Lindsey wondered if he would have been singing the same tune if he had to battle an enemy that tainted the air with the stink of decay as it approached. Even without them approaching, the air always reeked to some degree with the stench of the dead. It was their world now. Goodbye to the crisp air of fall. Goodbye to the smell of roses! Goodbye...

They were less than six meters from her position. If she did not get the hell out of dodge in a hurry, she would be close enough to observe how their breath smelled as well. She grabbed up her back-pack and began backing away. Her rifle clicked with emptiness, yet again. She popped in a fresh clip - which was also her last clip.

A few of them got hung in the barbed wire in front of her entrenchment. The others began climbing over their buddies almost as if they knew it would protect them from getting snagged. Lindsey shot them down as they came onward.

"Fuck this!" Lindsey hissed as she turned to run for all she was worth. She jumped over the stack of sandbags at her rear and almost got away unscathed, had Kenneth's hand not gripped her ankle, sending her falling face-first to the ground. She turned to look at who had grabbed her, and her heart sank. There lay what had been Kenneth. One of them must have caught him with his guard down...waaaay down. Whatever zombie had been at him had torn Kenneth's throat open. He had died silently, and had begun crawling to her, silently. His eyes were wide and glazed like marbles. He seemed to only stare at her for a moment, his mouth gaping like a fish. Lindsey could have sworn he was trying to decide if he recognized her or not.

Lindsey had heard stories of such behavior. Back when all of this madness had first started, when only the dead and the sick were becoming zombies, people had thought they were harmless. In fact, some people had thought it was some sort of religious miracle. The undead would just stand around and stare at nothing in particular for hours on end. Then, after a week or so, they would become hungry. Hunger was the last stage of the infection, and it was best to have a bullet or spike driven into the victim's skull well before then.

There was no cure.

Kenneth began moaning a soul-less wail that made the hair on the back of her neck stand on end. Lindsey almost cracked. She had to stop that wailing at all costs. She planted a firm kick in her former comrade's face and scrambled away from him. The other zombies were climbing out of her entrenchment and reaching for her. She had to get on her feet and fast.

She shrugged off her back pack and got to her feet. Unfortunately, the process of losing the backpack had caused her to lose some precious time. She felt one of them fall on her. His bloated, stinking body must have weighed over two-hundred pounds. She began frantically squirming to escape its weight, but not before it bit into her shoulder. She screamed with agony and the knowledge of what that meant for her. It was over.

The others were gathering around her to get their piece of the pie. That was when Lindsey heard the chatter of machine gun fire. From the sound of it, her assailants were being cut in half behind her. A man ran up and put a handgun to the head of the corpse on her back. The deafening thunderclap of the soldier's side arm freed Lindsey from the zombie's weight. She crawled several feet before finally stopping. She rolled over on her back and looked up at the soldiers running by to reclaim her position.

A medic came up next to her and gave her a shot of morphine. Lindsey's world clouded up and began swaying out of clarity. She heard the medic say "Okay, sir, it's okay to move her. We need to get her back to the Center as soon as possible." By that, he meant the Center for Disease Control. After all, they had fought hard to retake and hold Atlanta.

Still, that was a stupid idea if she had ever heard one. What in the hell could they do for her there? The Center had been a joke of jokes when it came to researching the disease. The officer that seemed to be levitating over her knelt at her side and took her hand. She was not technically a member of the Army, but only a cooperating state militia, so he could at least show affection to her without risk of violating protocol.

"Okay, let's find out if those Einsteins in the rear are onto something or not." She had no idea what he was talking about.

Before Lindsy lost consciousness, she turned her head to the pile of carnage. The soldiers were sifting through it, firing their weapons every now and again to stop any movement. Next to the bodies, her eyes caught movement. It was Kenneth. He was still alive - if undead was really any sort of life. He only stared at her and continued to moan. A soldier walked over to Kenneth and placed a boot down on the corpse's back. Kenneth's moan was cut short as the breath was knocked out of him. The muzzle of the rifle pressed into the back of his skull and forced his face down in the dirt. The soldier fired his rifle once, and went on looking for any more of the living dead.

Lindsey raised a hand in the air and shouted: "Yoo-hoo! You forgot one right over hear..." The soldier only looked at her for a moment with sympathy, and went on about his business. Yeah, he knew she was fucked, but he did not have the heart to put a bullet in her head like he had her fallen (and formally risen) comrade.

Things went black. Was she dead? Was she high? She did not know. Did not care.

To be continued...

Máire Flynn

maireflynn@cs.com