Silence is Rotting

Lungs Burning he ran, splashing through the thick swamp water, dodging trees, roots and branches he ran.

In the far distance he could make out the lights of the camp. Behind him was … nothing. He stopped, breathing deeply to slow the pounding of blood in his ears, straining to listen to the sound of his pursuer.

The swamp was silent.

Maybe he had lost it? He had been running parallel to the camp, trying not to bring the monster to the camp, maybe it had worked?

He breathed deep, smiled and began to wade toward the camp when he stopped again. Looking at the camp he could make out the light, but no movement and no sound.

Arc 2 – The alley and the flame

The smell of gasoline hung thickly in the dry air as Barlow entered the shadowy alley. On both sides it was fenced in by tall buildings with no windows. Debris, broken bottles and the occasional ramshackle homeless shelter was scattered around. About ten feet in he found the ignition point, evidenced by several charred and blackened cardboard boxes.

As Barlow sifted through the burnt boxes he looked over at the other side of the alley and noticed a large damp patch and a discarded needle. Maybe the stiff was a suicidal druggie? A likely explanation, but it didn’t explain the absence of a gasoline container.

Arc 2 – Strong Dentures

People see crazy things when they see death for the first time, but in this case he was actually right, there clear as day amongst the soot were bite marks and a broken tooth on the fuel hose.

Taking out a pen Barlow pushed the point into one of the indentations. It sank deeply into the hardened rubber. Whatever thoughts had been going through the stiffs mind as he ran toward the gas station aflame, biting down hard on the hose seemed to have been his number one priority.

Barlow stood up, brushed the dirt off of his pants and started walking to the corner from where the suspect had first been sighted.

Shuffle to the meat

She lay there beneath the classroom table, a book bag for a pillow and an empty drinks bottle clutched in her arms. The table cloth draped over the corner table blocked the sight of her classmates, but she could still hear them, shuffling around the locked classroom, Unable to get out, unable to do anything other than bump into walls, moan and kill.

She knew they could kill after Mary had made a break for the locked door from under the table they had shared. Her screams still echoed in her head.

As she lay there, dehydrated, hungry and alone she prayed for help that she knew would never come.

Arc 2 – Like a moth to a burning gas station

“I’ve never seen anything like it!” whispered the witness.

“I was standing there pumping gas, I heard a moan and this … guy, on fire .. comes around the corner from 4^th street. I shouted to roll on the ground and threw the bucket of sand at him, he just ignored it and… and I know this sounds nuts, but I swear to god, he tried to eat one of the gas pumps.”

“Then the extinguishers fired from the ceiling. When it cleared the guy was lying there next to the pump.”

Detective Barlow sighed, this was going to be a long day.

The Earth

Maya sifted through the soil and continued to think.

“If some virus and disease can pass from one creature type to another. Then it stands to reason that what ever is ‘turning’ people could possibly jump to another species.”

“Yet having observed that the turned inflict horrific damage on their target, usually killing them outright, it gives very little time for a virus to actually take hold, such that it can result in a post mortis control.”

“And if it is a virus, and if it does can control post mortis, suggesting nervous system control, how can brain destruction be the only ‘cure’?”

Maya sighed and continued sifting.

Missing

Mike woke with a start and stifled a scream.

He looked at his watch. 11am. He had slept for over ten hours, obviously five days of running had taken its toll.

From the bed Mike looked around the small room for Emily. Not seeing her he got up and checked the bathroom and hallway. With increased desperation Mike ran out onto the street scanning the tall buildings for sign of movement, for a sign of Emily.

In a panic he shouted out her name, not caring about the risk, but no sound came back.

He sat down on the curb, utterly alone and wept.

I Got A Brand New Combine Harvester…

“HERE THEY COME! START ‘ER UP!’ shouted the grizzly farmer.

How he had managed to mount two combine harvesters atop each other, one to destroy the heads, and another to catch any remaining crawlers Bill did not know.

What he did know was that he had spent the last 24hours helping to build two large wooden fences to funnel the walking dead into the monstrous contraption. Bill turned the ignition and watched the blades begin to turn, speeding to a whirling blur of repeat death.

He got down from the cab, lit a cigarette and settled in to watch the carnage.

Jet Planes Waiting In The Air To Be Refueled..

As the light faded, the two jet liners circled overhead.

Joe watched wondering why they didn’t move on to another airport. Perhaps they had also parked the excess planes out on the landing strip?

Either way the big red plane had obviously decided to chance a landing, whether through lack of fuel or pilot impatience he had chosen the closest strip.

Aiming for the edge of the runway and the grass siding, the pilot made his approach, apparently oblivious to the over-turned fuel truck in his path.

Joe took out his camera and waited for the perfect shot.

Under the Stairs

The scream echoed down the stadiums steel hallway.

“Noooooooooo, oh god, oh goooooood”

His pounding feet rang closer

Emily wanted to call out but held back. She thought about reaching out from under the stairs but thought better of it, she would be lucky if he didn’t try to stomp on her hand.

His pounding feet came closer. He took the stairs two at a time, sprinting away from the shuffling monstrosities behind him.

Emily saw him turn to check the stairs he had just come down.

As he turned back and began to sprint on, Emily went back to eating her popcorn.