Zombies II: Inhuman

Sunday Watch

The cities were dead. At least that’s the way Travis figured it. Most folk here in Jackson died that first night when all hell broke loose. It’d taken every officer in the department and every able bodied man sheriff Morgan could enlist to clear out the town and bring back some semblance of order. Travis knew Morgan was doing all he could.

Hell, everyone in town was but he still hated sitting out here in the field by the interstate on a Sunday afternoon. He’d rather have been home watching the races except there weren’t any races anymore.

Travis guessed the NASCAR drivers were dead too. He hated to imagine Dale Jr. stumbling around in the pit at some track somewhere, his rotting flesh stinking to high heavens because the poor bastard was too mindless to get out of the sun.

Travis picked up the AK-47 from the passenger seat and opened the patrol car’s door to stretch his legs. Time passed slowly these days whether you were sitting on your ass in a field keeping an eye out for the wandering dead or sitting in the bar with your buddies, it didn’t matter. It always felt like you were just waiting to die.

The once high grass crunched under Travis’s boots as he got out of the car. Even the damn dead getting back on their feet and eating the living hadn’t ended the drought here in Jackson. Everything green was drying up and dying like the rest of the world.

He caught the sight of something moving on the interstate from out of the corner of his eye and turned to see a dead man dressed in National Guard combat fatigues making his way down the interstate’s exit ramp to the road beside the field. Travis checked the silencer attached to the barrel of his rifle and sighed wondering how many of the dead he’d sent to hell over the last few weeks. Had to be going on a hundred, he was sure.

He leaned over the hood of the car and took aim, only squeezing the trigger when he was sure of his shot. The bullet struck the man’s head snapping it backwards before the man’s body stopped in its tracks and toppled to the asphalt.

“Head shot,” Travis muttered and smiled. “That fucker is staying down.”

He walked out of the field, shouldering his weapon as he went.

This was the part of his job he hated the most. Now that the thing was dead again, he had to drag its body out of sight so that any other corpses which strayed by wouldn’t see it and come to investigate in hopes that the body was still fresh enough to feed on.

The man was Travis’s third kill of the afternoon. The things were showing up more and more with each passing day. If their numbers didn’t level out soon, Travis would have to start walking out to the fields because Morgan would convince the town that it was the noise of the patrol cars in an otherwise silent word which was attracting the dead.

Travis admitted that Morgan might be on to something with that theory but sooner or later, a good portion of the dead from Asheville and the other close cities would wander their way into Jackson regardless. It was just cold and simple logic that the creatures would spread out in search of food and there were so many of them that it was a statistical certainty that enough of them would eventually make it to the town to wipe it off the face of the Earth.

Travis reached body of the man and stood over it. He thought he recognized him in spite of the maggots which swam over the man’s flesh and the gaping hole in his skull. Yep, it was Billy Clayton all right. There was no doubting it. When the shit first hit the fan, Billy’s unit had been called up by the governor to help contain the outbreak of dead in the cities. Travis remembered driving out to Billy’s house with Morgan the day before Billy had left. Morgan had done all he could to convince Billy not to leave the town but Billy was young and stubborn. He bet Billy wished he’d listened to Morgan now.

Travis squatted down, pulled Billy’s military issue sidearm from its holster, and inspected it. He popped the clip and checked the firing mechanism before he slid the gun into his own belt. A good weapon and ammo were not things you left to go to waste no matter who their owner had been. Travis picked up Billy’s body with his hands under Billy’s arms and started to haul his remains over to the ditch beside the road. The sound of someone moaning caused Travis to jerk his head up. Billy’s body thumped to the road as Travis let go of it.

“Oh, holy. ..” Travis breathed. He couldn’t believe what he was seeing. Hundreds of bodies were heading down the interstate’s exit ramp towards him, pouring onto the road like ants from a hill, only they weren’t just coming from the interstate. They were coming out of the damned trees all around the field too.

Travis raced back to his car. The creatures were already dangerously close as he slid into the vehicle’s driver seat and grabbed up the radio. “Morgan! Answer me damn it! They’re coming! Hundreds of them!” The radio crackled but remained silent otherwise.

No response came.

Travis fished around in his pocket for the keys. He had to stand up and get out of the car before he could dig them out keeping his eyes locked onto the approaching horde of decaying bastards. In his hurry, he dropped the keys as he yanked them out. He whirled around to pick them up from where they’d landed behind him to come face to face with Morgan himself, only it wasn’t Morgan.

Dull, glazed over eyes stared into his own above the blood stained uniform Morgan wore. They told the tale of the town’s fate. The dead must be pouring in from everywhere, Travis thought. He screamed as Morgan’s cold hands grabbed his shoulders and held him in place as the sheriff’s teeth sank into his throat.

Travis’s scream became a sickening gargling noise as his blood welled up inside him and leaked out from his mouth as Morgan chewed. He fell to the ground with Morgan on top of him still tearing into his flesh. A few of the dead stopped to join Morgan in his feast but the rest walked on towards the town of Jackson to see if anyone else was left alive.