DEAD FACTIONS - the Zombie War Narratives - a Novella (2 page)

“Well, show me what you got…boy”, the vendor states as if to belittle and frustrate him. Nevertheless, Corey is too busy displaying what he has found to be bothered. He proudly dumps his stash on the vendor’s table. The vendor quickly looks over the small mound prepared to make an offer.

“You still got the drill?” Corey asks with some concern. Corey’s uneasiness is justified as the vendor makes his assessment.

"Yeah, but it looks like you’re three cans short”. Corey’s temperament is short. If the vendor sticks to his guns, Corey knows it will mean at least three more food runs; he leans over the table and grabs the vendor by his shirt clearly indicating dissatisfaction.

“Listen asshole! As I recall I’ve saved YOUR can more than three times!!”

The vendor is stunned…he knows this is serious. He is also aware that most citizens of the city are on edge since the outbreak. The drill is something Corey wants badly and for a reason. He has purposely risked his life multiple times on food runs to gain enough can goods to get his special request filled.

The vendor realizes this is an argument from which he might leave with a limp, so he caves. “Uhhh... Look man…it is not that serious. Here! Take the drill for what you have.” Hoping that the situation has been resolved…the vendor reaches for the drill. Corey, still chafed, questions the vendor's moves.

“Don’t do anything stupid!”

The vendor reassures Corey, “I'm just reaching for your drill. See! It is just like you asked…with all the modifications.” Corey rapidly grabs the drill from the man's hand as if it was only available for a second. He places the drill into his very large and now empty bag...never taking an eye off the vendor. He is careful not to give the salesman a chance to get the drill back. Corey's eyes stay on the vendor as he turns away, not noticing the girl standing close behind him. He finishes his turn and runs right into her, knocking her to the ground. With a shocked expression on her face, she looks up to a frustrated Corey. “Look, I told you I would help you gather food and I did. That was it! Nothing more!”

The girl gathers herself and responds looking for some sense of sympathy, “I remember what you said...but we made it back…together! You gotta understand. I don’t know anyone else.”

Corey's mind has been made up for a long time. He relays to her what could be the thousandth time he has thought it. “I can only worry about me right now. It ends here.” Corey walks away leaving her where he leaves everyone that tries to get close...behind him.

As he steps forward, he cannot help himself from thinking, “Bitches...” He has little patience for others and their needs. He has no regrets...well none to which he admits. At this point, the only feeling Corey has is an urge…the urge to get away from the city that he considers a liability.

He continues on his way and finds an abandoned car...a rusted-out ‘95 Honda Prelude parked close to the city's eastside fence. A side of the town that is less populated...almost forgotten. He opens the car door and drops into the driver’s seat unaware that all four tires are flat. After some adjustment, Corey sits back and stares ahead, beginning to run a plan through his mind. The look on his face reads like a how-to-manual on preoccupation.

He begins to focus on some clutter that covers a portion of the fence. As he looks at it, he begins to justify why he is such an introvert and his need to be away from everyone. He blames part of the reason on the city, the city he knows to be a big attraction to the infected. More humans mean more walkers. Although he wants separation from the dead’s obnoxious panhandling for food, he wants to be free of the bureaucracy found in the confines of the fence.   

Corey stops thinking for a minute and turns to his large bag that is now hanging off him and into the passenger seat. He squints as he focuses on finding the drill now lost in somewhere-ville of the deep bag. “
Finally!”...
he thinks as he
finds it. Now able to hold it up for closer inspection without fear of it being taken, he reviews the carefully implemented modifications and quickly learns the nuances of his new weapon. He found it to be small and very versatile, just like he requested.

Even with all of its functions, its biggest flaw is the use of power. Luckily, Corey was able to lift more batteries for the drill during the confrontation with the street vendor. However, that still gives him a limited supply of power…a week, maybe? Corey will have to use it sparingly until he finds a charging station. The stations are like pawnshops, usually carrying a little bit of everything. He only knows of one, the rest might very well be urban legend.

Corey knows his choice is clear. For more battery options and answers to the repetitive questions in his mind, he must change his location. In preparation for this day, Corey hid a rare flaw to the city's defenses, an opening...a hole in a small section of the fence that was oddly devoid of electrical charge.  It appears the undead have still not located it. Corey disguised it sometime ago with clutter and nonsense, protected until it was time to change his course…one that could lead him to as many trials as to the answers he sought.

The time has come to put his plan into action, so he removes the buildup in front of the hole. He scouts for any dead that may want to assume a surprise attack while he makes his way through the fence. Thankfully, the eastside fence appears to be clear from the commotion earlier at the city’s front gate. After clearing the opening, Corey takes off at a rapid pace. He heads towards a restaurant that he remembered sometime ago located on the outskirts of the city. His thoughts are to get there and make camp. Initially, this is probably not a bad idea.  There might be at least a small supply of food and in a worse case scenario, a thick freezer for refuge should he come under attack. It was there that he wants to settle and figure out plan B.

The pavement does not radiate heat like it once did with the constant flow of traffic, so Corey pulls up his hoodie for warmth. The hoodie offers some comfort as the eeriness of the terrain becomes reality to him. Thunder rumbles in the background. He turns and looks back at the city...nope; the urge to return is not strong enough.

As he continues forward, a feeling returns...a disturbing sense of being watched comes over him. Moving forward the feeling grows stronger with each step. He stops in place and looks down hoping the stillness will ward off the bad buzz. The feeling is too real and the thought of turning around is an unnerving idea. Behind Corey lightning strikes and for a brief moment, a clear view of the flat desert is seen...as if someone had flicked a light switch on and back off. Corey reaches into his bag this time having no trouble finding his drill and quickly checks the batteries. As the lightening quickly flashes again...a tall figure is seen standing close behind him. Large arms sweep into grab Corey, but he senses the movement in time to drop and roll away.

The beast is left with an empty bear hug. Corey, on the ground looks up, “You!  I remember you, from the fence.” He realizes he is not dealing with a common walker...it is different like he noted earlier in the city. This one appears to have an agenda. If it had actually wanted to harm Corey, it would have followed up with an attack and not hesitated. Corey feels compelled to ask with his usual sarcastic wit, “What? Not enough flesh back in the city?” The hulking monster drops its jaw and responds back as it only knows how,”ARRRRRGH!”

Corey takes the reply of reverberation as a warning and grips the drill. He says under his breath, “
Time to see what being three cans short will get me.”
The two pace slowly sideways never breaking eye contact with each other, the delay begins to frustrate Corey. He does not want his lack of action to be considered a weakness.
“Forget it! Let's do this!
” Jumping up and landing on the giant's chest, Corey uses his free hand to grab the zombie's head. The walker is now madder than ever but still does not attempt to inflict any type of torture to Corey.

Corey revs up the drill and at the same time, the zombie grabs Corey's left leg. In an attempt to get the annoying human to comply, the large figure starts to push Corey away. But, it is too late...Corey has the creature’s head positioned and inserts the drill into the beast’s temple. Hovering over the creature, he takes pleasure in watching the zombie's eyes roll to the back of its head, as if to match the cadence of the drill bit’s rotation.

Just before the oddity expires, its last action is tossing Corey off and into a massive pile of desert rock. Dazed, Corey is on all fours looking down hoping to regain his senses quickly. He slowly crawls towards the zombie that is now lying on its back. A large puncture on the side of its head quickly discharges blood and segments of matter. Corey, suffering from a concoction of blurred visions, follows the trail of secretion until he makes his way to his defeated enemy. He examines the body to verify that it is indeed finished.

Through his review of the lifeless giant, he sees an identifiable mark on the exhausted beast’s hand, one he thinks he recognizes. A symbol from Corey’s past...a unique and strange skull resting on a pool of blood and bordered by a flaming wing crest. “
What is it doing here
?
Is it strictly a coincidence?
” In fact, he tries to convince himself that it now only
resembles
the emblem he had in mind. He applies pressure to his temple, “Shit my head hurts! No wonder I'm seeing things!”

A response from behind speaks out, “You are not seeing things, Corey. It’s true, I exist.”

Corey turns back to see and responds in a hoarse voice, “Thomas!?!”  Corey is shaken…this was the LAST person or THING he expected to see. Corey asks again with less hesitation in his voice, “Thomas?”

A being appears in a formal dress uniform, complete with medals and a beret speaks, “It has been a long time.”

As Corey starts to stand, he releases the corpse's hand suggesting he now knows the emblem’s origin and why the beast was following him. “Shit! What happened to you?” Corey remarks showing he is aware of Thomas' appearance and that his question is rhetorical.

Thomas is in fact infected...but fully functional as a human. Thomas has all the characteristics: the sunken face, the opaque eyes and the green-gray skin that is common in the diseased, but his intelligence is superior to any other infected being with which Corey has come into contact.

Thomas steps into a bit more light removing all doubt that he truly is only a decaying form of the childhood friend Corey once knew. With the drill still gripped in his hand, Corey tips his head forward looking at Thomas suspiciously. Thomas growls, “It wasn't necessary for you to have eliminated your guide!”

Corey in his typical smartass way, “If I was being summoned, why not send a limo. Besides...your boy here had poor people skills.”

Corey examines Thomas' face more from a distance...still trying to put together what is in front of him. Without any restraint, Corey asks the question that he had in his mind just moments ago “You're different from him. How is it you can...?”

Thomas interrupts, “Talk? Function as a normal human? Yes, it is one of the benefits of leading the guild...for being
chosen
.” Thomas turns gesturing for Corey to follow.

Thomas walks Corey towards the base. Still clinching the drill, he is reluctant to follow Thomas, but the curiosity is too much. Thomas continues, “I don't have much time...so I will have to brief you the rest of the way to the base. In this guild, we are all family. My troops have pledged their loyalty by taking my mark.”

Most people would not ask anything that might agitate the situation, but Corey does not restrain himself from inquiring, “Hold up, are you referring to the army tattoo that you got a few years back? Pffft... doesn't seem to have done ‘Tiny’ any favors back there.”

Thomas continues as if not to hear Corey. He marches towards an old chicken and waffle restaurant carrying on with his soliloquy. “A loyal army is important. The subordinates get the organs...a constant food source to keep them compelled to follow me and ready to fight.”

Corey digs further, “What, no waffles? How do you recruit under such false advertisement?” 

Thomas stops with an army of glowing eyes behind him, “I see you haven't lost your sarcasm...the sign of a strong mind...that
can be appreciated later.”

Corey becomes too fixated on the glowing eyes to grasp Thomas' comment. “Never mind what I said. Recruiting appears to be going well...so, you said something about fighting. Fighting whom? I just figured you took what you wanted. What’s standing in your way?”

Thomas extends his arms outward to indicate he is in control of all within his surroundings. He boasts, “Other guilds...the military.” Corey walks past Thomas to observe the restaurant. He realizes this was supposed to be his camp, his destination from the city he just left. Thomas adds, “That’s why your assistance is needed.”

Corey looks back at Thomas and says in disbelief “Needed...RIIIGHT!” Corey continues looking at the building. He can only think that there is no plan B. He considers hearing Thomas out since he was told he was ‘needed’ and, thus far, no real harm had come to him.  Looking at it now, he realizes the beast clearly held back in the confrontation even though Corey emptied its head.

Corey grows more inquisitive, “You mentioned others. So you’re telling me the unorganized undead are now the organized dead… Is that like zombie GANGS? Shit! That’s kinda funny!  Oh wait! No, maybe it’s zombie unions…so that would make you the godfather, right?”

Thomas becomes annoyed. It seems that he is not being taken seriously. His appointed rank does not allow for such absurdness. He closes his eyes tightly and clinches his fists. The once glowing eyes behind him scatter...the sound of numerous troops running off is heard. Thomas attempts to clear his throat but struggles...it has been awhile since he has feasted. The lack of human blood to lubricate his vocal cords keeps his voice raspy and parched.

He gathers himself to interject information important to Corey's understanding. “YES! There
ARE
other guilds using the weapons...the benefits you survivors left behind. There is a struggle, a need to take ownership of all that is abandoned. I can easily put an end to the chaos, with your help.”