Z-Risen: Outbreak

Real Monsters

10:30 hours approximate

Location: Undead Central, San Diego CA — Fortress

Supplies:

There wasn’t much to do but sit around and glare at each other. Joel and I exchanged very few words.

No girls to chase. No football games to stare at. No beer to toss back. No smokes to smoke. No Xbox to play and no hot wings. Man I miss hot wings. I saw a whole bunch of seagulls the other day and all I could thing about was shooting them out of the sky so we could cook up some hot wings. I’d eat the shit out of some spicy seagull right about now.

Instead we cleaned weapons with a can of old motor oil. It wasn’t pretty but it got the job done. It made me smell like a mechanic which was just like being back at home on the USS McClusky.

Just a few days ago we’d gone out and tried to raid a few houses but had little to show for it. One place had yielded a few cans of baby formula. Another had provided some aspirin and a full bottle of Tums, found buried in the back of the upstairs bathroom cabinet. We feasted on a few of those for the calcium. We dared each other to drink the baby formula. I ended up liking it but didn’t tell Joel.

We went out empty-handed and that was how we came back to Fortress.

We aren’t the only survivors, that’s for damn sure.

Some of the homes we hit already had doors kicked open and pantries cleared. We found a bunch of empty bags one day that had contained dried beans. Next to those I found a can of condensed soup someone had punctured with a knife and drained. That had to be fun, sucking warm congealed soup without even a straw, but it beat the hell out of going hungry. Probably tasted amazing on seagull.

“Think we can shoot a few birds?”

“Are you crazy? Bring half the damn city to this location just so we can eat one of those scrawny things.”

“I said a few. One scrawny bird for you and one scrawny bird for me. Probably good with the spinach.”

“I’d rather eat dirt.”

“Don’t be so fucking morbid,” I said.

Joel didn’t smile.

Joel was being a jerk. He kept yelling at me about what a pain in the ass it was to watch after me when we went out. Like I knew the first goddamn thing about surviving the first goddamn zombie apocalypse.

“Fuck you, Joel Kelly. I’m good out there and you know it. Just because I don’t know all the Marine hand signals like when to jerk one off doesn’t mean I don’t pay attention.”

“Just stay low. You’re big and you stick out like a sore thumb,” he lectured me. “We always go in the back and we always keep an eye out for each other.”

“I’m pretty sure that’s what I did yesterday when I saved your ass at Ty’s place.” I shot back.

Joel relented with a shake of his head and went back to dour Marine looks.

I left and went upstairs to dig around in a closet again. The kid’s room was filled with toys and small clothes but I figured that if I looked around long enough I’d find his stash of candy bars or Twinkies. So far I’d had no luck. He did have a toolbox filled with action figures from some super hero movie I hadn’t even seen — and never would see.

Fortress was a fucking pit. An hour later, I opened the windows on the top floor but the air didn’t even stir. I sat by the open portal and sucked a light breeze but then it was gone and I was miserable again.

You’d think the silence would be comforting, but it’s not. All those sounds you get used to like a television or radio. Heat or running air conditioning. We had none of that. The only sound was an occasional moan, scream, or gunshot in the distance.

We’d been here for a couple of days but it felt weird living in someone else’s home. I had to be careful when opening any cabinets or doors. No telling what in the hell would happen. One wrong move and a bunch of crap would be falling on the floor and all that noise would bring them.

Later, Joel apologized for being a dick. I nodded but didn’t give in so easily.

“All you do is preach about caution but you’re the first one to raise your voice out there, or worse, blow a door off its hinges. No one likes a fucking hypocrite, Joel.”

“Just blowing off steam. Nothing to shoot at today so I guess words are my ammo.”

“Oh that’s real deep, Joel. Words as ammo. You should write a rap album.”

“Are you going to go racist on me?”

“Yeah. Cause I want the only guy with a clue to think I’m a racist. Brilliant. Just shoot me in the head now.”

“Like I haven’t thought about it. Damn engineer. Bullets probably bounce off that thick skull.”

Later, Joel attempted to be patient while teaching me survival skills. I was too pissed off to pay attention. Firing mechanism this and charging lever that. Blah blah blah.

Butch kept circling us. He whined his skinny cat ass off while we bickered. Every time I tried to reach down and scratch his scruffy head, he moved toward Joel.

Cat only had one eye and it was the evil kind and that was all he offered me.

Joel and I were both hungry and that meant one thing.

“You’re the sailor. Don’t you eat that shit up like Popeye?”

“You and spinach—the fuck is wrong with you? Popeye’s a cartoon. What you’re doing is called stereotyping.”

“My black ass knows all about stereotyping.” Joel shot back.

Shit. He had me there.

“I don’t eat spinach. Period.”

“A few days without food and I think you’ll change your mind.”

“Won’t you?” I asked Joel.

“Nah. I’d rather starve. That shit is nasty.”

We both laughed at that and the tension left the room. Funny how that happens from time to time. Other times we strut around and act like we want to kill each other.

We both knew the truth. We were rationing our supplies. If we ate our fill we’d be out of food in two days.

Butch meowed that long and forlorn mewl of his—I guess he’s a he. I didn’t really stop to think about checking to see if he had balls. I shushed him, so he did it again.

“If that cat brings a horde of zombies our way I’m feeding his furry butt to the first shuffler I see.”

“Fucking shufflers. What are those things?”

“Dude. Do not get me started.” I said.

“So many of the slow ones. Bunch of drunk bastards that can’t chase worth a shit.”

“Yeah but get enough of them together…I remember the base,” I said and thought, with sadness, of Reynolds.

“Anyway. The shufflers.”

“They don’t move like people and they don’t move like your garden variety Z. They got that weird step and how the hell do they creep along on their hands and feet?”

Joel got on all fours and tried to duplicate the move. It was hilarious. He tried to stay on his hands and feet and move but he kept straining to stay low to the ground. After ten or fifteen seconds he gave up and rolled over on his back.

“That shit is insane,” he said, panting.

“Thanks for making my day.” I laughed and clapped him on the shoulder.

“Five minutes. Let’s get in the war.”

“A war indicates there’s an enemy out there that is shooting back. So far it’s been pretty one-sided, Joel.”

“Should be an easy one to win,” Joel said and got up to strap on his tactical gear.

I nodded and went to gather up my stuff. I couldn’t help but wonder what we’d do if we won.

The first time we went out was at night. It didn’t matter that we snuck around like a couple of special-needs ninjas. The thing about the Z’s was that it was easier to see them than worry about them seeing us. Besides, we only had the one NVG and Joel wore that because he was the goddamn action hero, leaving me stumbling into stuff.

The next time we went out it was early morning. We left just as dawn was burning away and there was that low mist that hung around. It was creepy under normal circumstances but add in a bunch of Z’s and it’s like some nightmare movie. You just don’t walk around in that soup, see a dude missing half his fucking face, and act like it’s a normal day.

I’d already shrugged into my BDU’s, wearing them over a thick flannel shirt left by the owners of the house. The material was hot but I felt a little bit safer having it cover my arms. One bite was all it took, and if this kept me from losing some skin, I could put up with it. I’d feel even better if I had duct tape wrapped around each sleeve but then I’d have to cut my way out. Besides, I’d worked in an engine room for years and the thick layer was just shy of uncomfortable. See that, grunge rockers? This shit is functional.

We went over the side and then stashed the ladder. The front was locked up and hammered shut. I straightened our “looters will be shot dead” sign, and then we moved out.

We crept around a few houses we’d already searched. Others had boarded up windows and barred doors so we didn’t bother. As much as I’d like to say we talked with other survivors that just wasn’t the case.

In the movies everyone goes into hyper survival mode and shoots, rapes, or pillages with glee. In reality, we’d found that most survivors just wanted to be left alone. Everyone was distrustful and that was fine with me. I didn’t want to worry about feeding any more mouths.

We moved onto a new section of town about half a mile from our current location. Joel wore his combat gear and had the NYFD ball cap on backwards. His AR-15 swept in every direction. We had a map back at Fortress and Joel kept marking off sections we’d explored. This wasn’t one of them. Virgin territory to us. Probably Z-infested and picked over but we had to get lucky eventually.

There were older homes here and we were far enough from the Naval base that I hoped we weren’t busting into other sailor’s houses and stealing their shit. Yeah, I realize that most of them were probably dead but it still felt like the wrong thing to do.

We came across the home at the end of a cul-de-sac. The place was newer or remodeled and really out of place in the ghetto that made up most of this neighborhood. That’s what Joel called it, but it was a lot nicer than where I grew up in Detroit. My school was so rough, the only things that kept me from getting my ass kicked, consistently, were my fists and my size. I’d been a bully then, because it was expected, but I never liked it. Much.

“How about this place?” I whispered near Joel’s ear.

He was crouched behind a beat up sedan and going over his rifle. When he wasn’t shooting at Z’s, Joel was inspecting his weapon. I had my .45 M45A1 holstered but my pipe wrench was at hand. Bring on the Z’s. I was ready to bash some heads. I was the silent partner, as Joel liked to put it. Point me in the direction of a few of the dead and I’d take them down with a swing or two.

A group of Z’s moved one block west of our location. They were a nasty bunch that probably turned during the first few days of the outbreak. Dressed in rags, they had that starved look with sunken cheeks and hollow eye sockets. The leader had a steady but slow gait, thanks to a broken foot. His face was caved in and one eye socket was covered in dried blood and a fuck load of maggots.

“I’m gonna puke,” Joel whispered.

“Don’t start cause I’ll be right behind you. Hard to shoot Z’s when you’re tossing your lunch.”

“Good Christ in heaven. How is something like that even on its feet?

Every time he staggered forward, a couple of bugs fell off his face and he nearly lost his footing. Then this decayed dude would right himself, swing his good leg again and stumble forward. The four behind him weren’t in much better shape. A woman in a jogging suit was missing most of her face but at least it wasn’t filled with maggots. Just gore and stuff that might have been bone.

Another group followed and this bunch was much fresher. When I write about fresh Z’s you have to understand that there’s a whole host of the dead out there. Sure, the first bunch were old and rotted. We saw a lot of those. When the body dies, or comes down with whatever shit virus had killed the world, the body rots. Then stuff starts to fall off. The parts that are left reek like the worst rancid meat you ever smelled. Man, I just can’t describe it. Go to a dump in the summer and walk right to the center. I guarantee it won’t be as bad as these things.

So the second batch were a lot fresher. The rot was setting in but they were walking and jawing. That is, their mouths kind of unhinged and their tongues stuck out. If one of these Z’s fell, odds were good that a hunk of meat was hitting the ground, maybe a piece of a kneecap or an elbow. The biggest problem was how fast they were. Take a week-old rotted Z. They can’t chase worth a shit. A day-old slugger? They’re almost as fast as a live person. Get ten of those together and it’s a hell of a bad day.

They moved around the first group, seemingly oblivious to the rotters. Then they pressed on toward the end of the block, but not before one whipped its head around and stared right at our hiding spot. It shuffled around in a circle then looked toward the sky and let out a moan. Milky white eyes settled on us again, but they weren’t aware we were in the bushes.

It was a long five minutes while we waited for the second batch to round the corner and move out of eyesight. One of the rotters, however, picked a spot on the ground and stared at it. That’s when I saw the figure dart around a house next to the one we were trying to raid. They were dressed in black and wore a ski mask. They had a bunch of knives strapped to their chest and a handgun of some sort. They took up a position in the shadow of the green rambler and froze in place.

Joel didn’t move, either, and that meant I was a statue. After a few minutes the figure moved off. He or she did not even look in our direction. Joel and I sighed at about the same time and then shot each other disapproving looks.

We moved around the house and checked the windows. Locked.

The house’s front door was closed and that was a good sign. Too often we came across front doors and windows smashed in, and that meant someone had already picked the place clean.

“This place looks deserted but it might be like fortress. Guy in there with a shotgun would take us down pretty easily,” Joel whispered.

“Should we knock?” I asked.

“Yeah. You go knock and if you get shot I’ll know to go back to Fortress.”

“Let’s scout the back.”

Joel clapped my back. “See, I’ll make a warrior out of you yet.”

“Be better if you could make some damn hot wings,” I said.

The house had an older pine fence with most of a finish. Looks like the apocalypse put a stop to that. A can of wood stain lay off to one side. It was kicked over and empty. I moved to peek over the top and didn’t see a dog waiting to chase us toward our recently departed zombie horde.

Joel pushed at the gate but it didn’t budge. I slipped my hand over the top and felt around until I found a release, then slid the gate open. We crept into the back yard with Joel Kelly in the lead. He dashed to the edge of the home and then crouched with his AR covering the backyard. He didn’t move for a full fifteen seconds and then slipped around the back.

I had to wonder what I’d do if I was, say, lounging around in my back yard in a pair of boxers and someone crept along the side of my house dressed in tactical gear and carrying an assault rifle. I’d probably shit myself and then offer them everything in my wallet.

Joel moved into the yard and I followed. Then he stopped, dropped to a crouch, and gestured for me to get down. I complied with his instructions and faded toward a small maple. It was one of the healthiest trees I’d seen and that worried me. Did someone live here? Someone with the means to take care of their shrubs? I shook my head. It was probably just the unseasonably warm autumn we were experiencing. It really looked healthy. It was garnet and willowy but didn’t provide a lot of cover, especially for my BDU’s

Joel motioned and I followed his hands. There was a pile of something near the sliding glass door. I shook my head because I couldn’t believe it.

There had to be fifteen or twenty bodies in various states of decay. Flies buzzed around in a swarm of black. The sound was enough to drive me nuts.

The smell was horrendous.

All of the bodies were female and all were nude. Clothing was lain on top of them but arranged in a garish way, like they were some kind of clowns. The woman on top was probably in her fifties when she died and not exactly the spitting image of a super model. She was a mom, or had been, but now she was dead and her face was covered in someone’s crude attempt at makeup. Bright red hooker lipstick rode her dry lips. Her mouth was open and she didn’t have any teeth, just a bunch of bloody holes.

“The fuck?” Joel said exactly what I was thinking, except I was thinking it over and over in my head.

Another woman was much younger but most of her face was smashed in. Her neck was cocked at an impossible angle and I feared that if I touched her the head would loll toward me and her eyes would snap open.

“Were they all Z’s before they were killed?”

“I don’t know, man. I don’t know.” Joel shook his head.

I wondered if he was thinking what I was thinking. That some sick fuck needed to die for this. Take a Z down, man. Don’t be a fucking asshole.

I pointed at the house and Joel followed my finger and stared for a full half minute.

“We should go somewhere else.”

“Yeah. We should. Stay here and back me up.”

“Dammit. We should leave,” I whispered.

“I want to know what’s up,” Joel said. His eyes didn’t look inquisitive. They looked pissed.

“Going in blazing?” I asked.

“I’m not stupid.”

“Yeah, okay, Mr. Marine.”

Joel puckered his lips like he was preparing to blow me a Marine kiss and then shot me the finger. He crept to the edge of the house and lowered himself next to the sliding glass door. He took a quick peek and then dropped back a few feet. No one blasted. Good enough start.

Joel took another look and this time lingered. He stared and stared and then he motioned for me to join him.

“Break it. Break the fucking door.” He nodded at my giant wrench.

“Really?”

“Dude. Just do it.” His eyes burned so I shrugged and took a swing.

Just before the wrench shattered the window, I saw why.

When the glass hit the patio and floor, I stood in place while my brain tried to make sense of the scene.

Then my face flushed and my blood boiled.

Joel went in yelling.

“Down, get the fuck down! I am not messing around! If you make one wrong move I’ll erase you!”

The man with his pants around his ankles looked at us and then slowly raised his arms.

I took a step toward him with the wrench raised and murder in my blood. I wanted to beat this guy until he was pulp and then toss him on the pile outside.

His living room was a mess of old clothes and empty food containers. There were so many empty packs of crackers and candy bars I wouldn’t be able to take a step without something crackling under foot.

Someone had spray-painted the words “MONSTER KEN” on one of the walls in blood red paint.

The house was dark and warm. It reeked of garbage and blood. It smelled like the dead. On top of that, the guy before us smelled like he hadn’t showered in a month.

The worst part was the girl. She was bent over the arm of a light brown leather couch that was stained with blood. Her naked legs moved but that was all. Her arms were tied at the wrist, behind her back. She moaned but couldn’t move her head because a rope had been tied around her neck and stretched to the other side of the couch and then tied to something.

“Notmenotmenotmenotme! It’s Ken. He’s the monstermonster monsterman! Ken’s coming back. Not me not me not fucking me.”

“Shut up or I’ll end you.” Joel’s voice was full of barely-controlled rage.

I didn’t say anything because every fiber of my being wanted to crush in his skull. I clenched the wrench so hard my hand trembled.

“Ken did Ken did Ken did,” the guy rambled on and on under his breath.

“Let her go,” I said.

“Can’t. Can’t do it. Can’t until Ken gets here but he said I could take a turn. See? He said it was cool so it’s cool and everything’s cool. So cool.” He touched the girl’s back and ran his hands over her waist, then gave her butt a squeeze.

“Rapist.” Joel pronounced it like a death sentence and raised his weapon.

“Can’t rape the dead.” The man cackled.

I backed up a step and tried to keep my lunch down.

“What the fuck!” Joel said and centered the man in his sights.

Then something crashed down the hallway and we both froze.

‘Ken!” the guy screeched, and that was enough for me.

I hit him so hard he probably didn’t even feel it, just saw a blast of light.

A figure dashed across the hallway into the kitchen. Joel dropped and fired a few rounds.

I dropped behind the couch and tried to pick a spot to crawl toward. The woman’s eyes settled on mine and she snarled even though she was gagged. She couldn’t have been more than eighteen years old. She wore the same shade of lipstick as the bodies outside.

Another figure appeared in the hallway but it moved slowly. Joel didn’t stop to ask questions; he just shot the person in the chest. Then another shape appeared.

“Out!” Joel said and rose to cover me.

A pair of shots came from the direction of the first figure, now in the kitchen, and struck the wall. The bullets were high but they were enough to tell me that I didn’t like being shot at.

I went flat as Joel backed up and fired a few more rounds.

This was beyond our thirty-second battle drill. We should be hauling ass. I tried to shimmy along the floor but realized it would leave my big ass exposed and stayed low.

“When I fire, you move. Got it?” Joel didn’t waste any time and ripped half a dozen rounds at the indistinct shape in the kitchen. Then he dropped the creeper coming up the hallway, but there was one more behind them.

At least we hit whoever was shooting at us. The person grunted and then fell. Joel aimed in his direction but was stopped because of the fresh hell that was about to enter my living nightmare.

The shuffler moved faster than anything alive. It didn’t even pause to check out the naked girl bent over the couch, it just came at us like a rabid dog. It snarled and sputtered with a sound that was like coughing. It ran at Joel, took a bullet to the shoulder and didn’t stop.

The guy in the kitchen must have figured this was his chance. He peeked around the corner and for the first time I got a look at him. It was the same person I’d seen earlier wearing a ski mask.

I dropped my wrench and tugged the big .45 out of my holster, checked the safety, raised it, and shot at the guy.

He ducked back around the corner. His handgun came out and he emptied a magazine into the room. We tried to duck, but the shuffler was on us.

He went for Joel with a leap that barely cleared the couch. I risked grabbing my wrench and then swung it around. I missed, but it was better than accidentally shooting Joel.

They both crashed through the remains of the glass door and went down in a heap. Joel abandoned his assault rifle and went for his side arm but his hand was batted aside. He tried to throw a punch while getting up and was tackled. Then he was out of sight.

I lifted the handgun and fired back at the man in black out of fear and panic. I had to rescue Joel. He was a tough and fast son of a bitch, but he was facing a shuffler all alone. I fired wildly and made for the screen door but bullets zipped over my head.

“Ken. That’s a shuffler. Let me kill it or we’re both done.”

Another form appeared in the shadows of the hallway.

“I know. I brought them for you.” A man’s voice cackled. “Think you can sneak into my house? My house? I brought them.”

Boom! The shot ripped through the space over my head.

“For you!”

Then he fired several more times while I hugged the floor. Made it my best friend.

I curled up in a ball and wondered if I was going to be Z-chow in a minute.

A grunt from the outside made me snap my head in that direction. Was Joel dead? Did the shuffler get him? I had to get out there and I had to get out there now.

The form that had appeared in the doorway staggered toward me. Ken laughed. Monster Ken — what a perfect name for this asshole.

The fresh Z was a large woman in her thirties. Her face was a mess of bite marks but her guts hung around her waist. I lifted the gun to shoot at her but it clicked empty. Great. I’d forgotten Joel Kelly’s rules. I rolled against the side of the couch, put my hand on the cushion to steady myself, and was almost bitten by the girl strapped there.

Reloading was a cinch thanks to hundreds of practice runs. I silently vowed to thank my Marine friend.

I fired four rounds in Ken’s direction while he fired back. The space between us had to be less than fifteen feet, but I was the lucky one. Ken grunted and then screamed. The Z in the hallway turned her head and moaned in his direction, then moved toward him.

I rushed out the door, expecting the worse.

The shuffler was on his back in the pile of the dead. He twitched, then rolled over and cackled. His hand went to his mouth while he considered me. The man’s hair hung in clumps over his forehead. His face was covered in blood and gore. His clothing was just as soaked in crimson.

He bit off one of his fingers while he stared from milky eyes that had the oddest hint of green. It was like they glowed with some otherworldly intelligence.

Joel staggered to his feet and for a moment I feared he’d been bitten and was already turning, but he pulled his Marine combat knife. Then he took a step toward the shuffler. Oh, I get it. This was one of those Marine things that I should stay out of. Joel was only interested in finishing the monster.

The shuffler leapt. Sure, I could have let Joel Kelly, Marine superman take the shuffler, and with any luck Joel would come out the victor. But I’d had enough of this entire scouting mission. I swung hard and caught the shuffler in the side, changing his reality in mid leap from forward momentum to crushed bones and flailing limbs. The creature howled and fell into an awkward tangle.

Joel advanced but I lifted the .45 and shot the son of a bitch in the head. Twice.

Fuck that guy.

Joel staggered into me and got an arm around my shoulder.

“If you bite me I’m going to be really fucking disappointed, Joel Kelly.”

“He didn’t get me. He just hit me hard enough to make me see stars. Thanks, man. I didn’t think I’d be able to take him.”

“So what, you just judo-threw him or something?”

“Got my gun around and cracked him upside the head. He fell back on the pile, but goddamn — that thing was fast. And strong.”

“So this is my reward? A Marine hug. If you kiss me I’m going to hit you with my really big wrench.”

Joel laughed and punched me in the shoulder hard enough to leave a bruise. Such a kidder, that guy.

“I think Monster Ken is still alive in there.”

“Yeah?”

I grinned and went in but kept low in case Ken’d gotten lucky with the dead lady.

The only sounds were his calls for help.

I advanced quietly on the kitchen and poked my head in to see even more squalor. There were wrappers everywhere. Empty water bottles. Rotting meat in the sink. What kind of meat, I had no interest in discovering.

The rapist twitched. Shit, didn’t I kill that son of a bitch?

Joel came in and covered me. He pointed his assault rifle at the woman on the couch but I shook my head.

“Enough shooting for one day. We gotta move, buddy. Our thirty seconds ended about five minutes ago.”

“What about dickless in there?”

I poked my head around the corner and saw that the Z was on top of Ken. She had knocked him down and he must have hit something hard because his right arm was at a bad angle. I ducked in and snagged his gun. It was a Sig Sauer P229 and that seemed like a hell of a sexy gun.

“How’s it going, Ken?” I asked.

He turned blazing eyes on me as he tried to fight off the woman. She got her mouth into his shoulder and ripped up. Ken screamed.

“Don’t be such a fucking pansy,” I said and went back to the living room.

The guy I hit twitched and one eye opened. The other had been crushed in by my wrench.

Joel grabbed the rapist and dragged him while I untied the woman and led her into the kitchen by the rope. She was covered in wounds and barely put up a struggle. She didn’t have any clothing on, but the last thing I wanted to do was look at the twin horrors that were her tits.

“Hey Joel. It’s an orgy,” I said and pushed her toward Ken.

Joel dragged the other rapist in and tossed him onto the pile. The naked girl went at him. She ripped up his shirt and dug her mouth into his soft belly. Even with his head half bashed in, the man managed to open his eyes and start muttering “no no no” over and over again.

“Hansi,” Ken yelled and reached for his friend.

Movement at the front of the house. I risked a look to confirm it was the faster pack we’d seen a few minutes ago right outside the house. So Ken really had led a bunch of Z’s here just to protect his home. Did he think he’d be able to overpower them and us when it was all over? Was Ken really enough of a Z survivor to take us all down?

Joel pointed at the back door and I nodded. We hustled and slipped out, hurrying past the pile of dead. We found the side of the house and hid next to the fence. A minute later the street cleared, so we moved out.

Behind me, the screams went on for a long time.

I couldn’t stop smiling.

We crouched near Fortress and watched for a full ten minutes. Joel kept his eye on the house while I watched out back. The backyard we’d picked for our reconnaissance had a kid’s playground. There was a trampoline with a body on it. The sides were covered in mesh so no one would fall out. Now it was a weird grave for the man that had blown his brains out while lying on it.

The yard also had a bunch of tall bushes we frequently used for cover.

A few days ago we’d gone into this home to look for supplies. We’d only turned up a few small bags of dried beans on the top shelf of the pantry. Someone had beaten us to this place.

We’d found the family in one room. A woman, presumably the mother, had been lain out on the bed with a pair of small bodies. The covers were pulled up and cloths placed over their faces. Someone had shot all three of them. My money was on the guy on the trampoline. After that, we never went into the house again. It was a mausoleum now.

Satisfied that no one was raiding Fortress, we went home.

“Empty-handed,” I muttered as we used a few precious baby wipes to clean up back at Fortress.

I lit a Sterno can and contemplated the spinach.

“I’ll eat one if you eat one,” Joel challenged.

“Christ. I guess it’s come to this.”

The cans took a few minutes to warm up but not so long to devour. Tasted like shit but it was better than being belly up at Ken’s house. Joel was smart and suggested adding a little bit of our precious supply of rice to the containers for the carbs. My gut rolled over but I was hungry enough to ignore the taste. The house hadn’t had a lot of food when we claimed it, but we’d found a box of chicken bouillon cubes and they’d gone in just about everything we attempted to cook.

“What the hell, man?” I finally spoke after we sat in silence for a few moments.

“Don’t even get me started.”

“Who does that shit? Who?”

“Monster Ken.”

“Yeah. Well, Monster Ken is a real monster now. I hope that jerk is wandering around tomorrow so we can kill him again.”

“We didn’t actually finish our sweep yesterday. Head back?” Joel grinned.

“I like how you think, buddy,” I smiled and hit Joel in the arm hard enough to leave a bruise.

He choked back a gasp and then looked stoic.

I went to bed with a smile on my face for the first time in days.

I guess the fucking zombie apocalypse could be worse.

This is Machinist Mate First Class Jackson Creed and I am still alive.