Zombie Apocalypse: Nation in Ashes

Welcome to the Treetops once again, my friends. Or if you're new here, then what took you so long? Geez. At any rate, this here is a first for this blog as we venture into the realm of storytime. A few days ago I put up a thread asking for some volunteers to defend the Nation from encroaching zombies hordes. If after this you find yourself interested, then feel free to join in. I can't promise to get everyone, or even when it might get done. But I'll give it my best.
Without further delay, here's the story. Hope you enjoy it.

Nation in Ashes

The last casings clattered onto the floor. His targets followed them to the floorboards with hollow thumps. Chorus of bloody angels, far as he was concerned. Trying not to gulp air and draw in the putrid stench of decaying flesh, he ran a hand through his ruffled brown hair to try to calm himself.

"Rest in peace," he muttered, making the sign of the cross with the barrel of the handgun. "I mean it. Don't frickin' get back up again." His hands shook slightly giving further trouble reloading the unfamiliar weapon. Low on ammo. Have to hurry. Others might have heard the brief exchange, and it was best to assume they had. Taking the pack from his shoulder, he walked briskly over behind the counter. Head down, avoiding the mirror. Couldn't stand to look someone in the eyes if he might have to put a bullet between them soon. At least there was some good news under here. Grabbing the shotgun, he found it loaded with a couple boxes of shells in the back. Into the pack it went. Only stuck out a bit sawed off like it was.

"Nice, but now for the real prize. No time to be picky." Bottles of whatever was to hand went into the pack, wrapped lightly in an apron hanging close to hand. A little padding certainly wouldn't hurt, but no clinking was more important. A little more.

His mind wandered idly as he went about the task at hand. How many days has it been? Or is it weeks now? So many gone. And what's the difference? What makes those veiny ones special? He glanced over at the still forms littering the room. All in ragged, moth eaten clothes, rancid flesh seemingly frozen in the act of rotting off the bone. These fit the classic definition, certainly, but those oth--

Sound caught his ears and snapped him back to the present like a whip.

Slowly sidling up to the shattered window, his hand reaching for the hilt of the weapon at his side, he peered cautiously out the opening. It hadn't been that loud if his aided hearing had just barely picked it up. If it was only one, then the blade would be enough. There is was again. A low rumble. A...growl. Couldn't be. In all this time there hadn't been any signs of animal infection yet. If they were susceptible... He risked a look out the window. Best take no chances. The blade bared nearly halfway began sliding once again into the scabbard, hiding the roughly etched cross.
Nearly had the gun out again when the ball of fur and fangs hit him full in the chest, taking him from his feet and pushing the wind from his lungs. His hand closed around the gun beneath his long, dark grey coat, but it was trapped by the weight of the beast. This is it, he thought, followed by a string of silent curses. With a snarl, the thing lunged for his neck. The teeth closed around his throat. Just at the moment they would have drawn blood, it...stopped!

There was a snuffling sound and the pressure vanished momentarily. He got a breath only to have it pushed out again as two paws put the weight into his gut again and again accompanied by a quiet whining. He risked opening an eye.
Late afternoon light from the open window framed the reddish fur of the large and distinctly canine figure sitting on his chest. The muzzle descended again and worried eyes peered into his.

"Dingo?"

A mistake, it turned out, as the bouncing resumed accompanied by his face receiving a generous coating of saliva. He threw his arms around his old friend almost as much to stop the jumping from bruising his ribs as to warmly welcome back someone thought lost. He couldn't help laughing though. Weeks since seeing any living thing he hadn't had to chase off or try to catch for supper--he didn't dwell too long on that--and now here was Dingo. The silent curses, which had never really stopped, only slowed, were replaced with silent prayers. The shock of hearing a feminine voice forced thought from his head, which swiveled back towards the window.

"Just what kind of bar you running here, eh?" The tone was flippant, but the smile on her face took any sting from the words. Her shoulders shook with silent laughter, swaying the wavy brown hair that nearly brushed them.

"Az!" He couldn't fight back the laugh that rose from his throat and just kept going. Az and Dingo both here, both alive! A hundred questions tried unsuccessfully to crowd out the laugh. Well, there would be time later. Abruptly her brow creased in worry.

"I couldn't be happier to see you, Liam, but we've got a group of about twenty Virals not three streets over. If they didn't hear the shooting, they've definitely heard us by now. We have to move." Suiting her words, she readied a revolver and quickly vanished from the window. Dingo followed her, bounding through with another quiet but somehow anxious bark, seemingly urging speed. Grabbing his pack from the counter and taking only a moment to make sure it was properly secured, Liam stepped warily around the bodies and out the door.

Emerging onto the deserted city street, he found Az crouched low by trash cans outside the bar, Dingo was nowhere in sight. He shot a questioning look at Az and she motioned with her hand in a circle towards the surrounding area, then shaded her eyes while looking about. Scouting then. Suddenly bursting around the corner, Dingo gave a frantic bark.

"What's over there, boy? The kind with the veins stickin' out all over?" A single bark in reply and a false start running. "You're sure?" A growl. "Alright, alright. Follow me then!" Without waiting to see if they would, he took off down the nearby alley. At the end he paused and nearly collided with Az. Fast girl.

"What are you doing? They're not going to stop now. This is a pointless risk and a waste of ammo at best!"

"Trust me. I saw a group of Shamblers this way earlier. The ones without the veins, look like they've clawed up out of the ground?" he added at her confused look. "What'd you call the other ones? Vrals?"

"Virals," she corrected. "But what does that have to do with anything, eh? And why in the world would you want them to chase us?! How is finding more zombies this way a good thing?" Her modest chest was heaving, either with exertion or anger. Another time he might have stopped to admire the movement of the muddy denim jacket and the once white shirt underneath. Now though he had to move. Pity.

"Just come on." The Virals--Probably a better name than Veinys. Works for me.--were starting to reach the mouth of the alley. Torn and bloody clothes barely staying on bloated flesh. Every vein on them standing out a stark red. They were whole enough, unlike the Shamblers, but they were definitely no longer human either. Swollen as they were they should have been slower, but hanged it if wasn't a race to stay ahead of them. "Move," he yelled and took his own advice. She caught up after a moment, and Dingo loped along almost easily, his nearly 7ft nose to tail length making ground eating strides. One block, two...There! Turning to their right down the next street he stopped in front of the firehouse.

"I managed to trap a bunch in here earlier," he wheezed. "Just what we need. Help me get the door open. Too heavy." The garage door opened up by inches at first, and that pungent scent they were too used to began pouring out. It was nearly bad enough to make them forget the pounding footsteps less than half a block away.

"If you had a good reason to do this, now would be a good time to tell me!" Oh, yes. Definitely anger. With a final heave it flew the rest of the way up. Almost immediately the moaning started. Withered hands grasping towards the light. With cut off cries the two jumped back. They stood now between the two groups, about ten feet either way.

"See how we ain't dead yet? 'S why," he panted.

"Okay, but why aren't we?" said Azira, looking frantically from one still group to the other. Here and there was the sound of something best left unknown dripping among them. Dingo whined and barked in turns.

"C'mon. Leave 'em be. We're going to just walk out of here. Back this way slowly. Dingo, watch behind us, right? Grand." A ways away they turned and ran again. Were nearly a mile down the road when the ruckus started. "I don't know what the difference is, but those two kinds mess with each other. I think they both see something that's food, but isn't. It's them, but isn't. It's two things it's not. Their hunger overtakes one side eventually, but it's usually long enough to get away, and it always thins them out which doesn't hurt." Az laughed delightedly, well as much so as possible while trying to breathe from all the running. "I've got a fairly safe spot over this way. We can..." Az was waving her finger before he even finished.

"We've got a better one. Promise. But we gotta go before it gets too dark. You'll have trouble seeing the path."


And so it was that about an hour later that they'd reached the edge of the city and started up into the woods. Dark had begun to set in, and it was a right mess with mud everywhere and thorns around too often to suit him. Az didn't seem to be having any trouble, but even Dingo slipped from time to time.

"Not much further now." Despite the moon being far from full her eyes seemed to glow slightly when she looked back. Almost like they were gathering up what little light there was. Dingo began to bark happily.

Suddenly, a hedge seemed to appear out of the darkness ahead of him. Nearly walked into it before he was even aware of it. Which was quite impressive, considering it was at least 8 feet tall. Liam cursed quietly as he nearly backed into a thorn bush in surprise. Az giggled until she heard where some of that cursing was being directed.

"Lower the bridge! Company's here," she yelled all of a sudden. "Step back a ways." That was for him. Minding the bush this time he picked his path carefully away as she repeated her call. He turned down his hearing aid. There was a creaking and whirring of pulleys as a wooden staircase landed a few feet from the hedge, lowering into place like it was on a hinge. He shot Az a dirty look.

"Why didn't you tell me someone else was here?" he growled. She just smiled, the fff-f-friend of his. Yes, he had to remember that. Besides, how could he stay mad? At least one more survivor! He wasted no time in climbing to the top of the bridge. The scent of something cooking--And not very well either. I'll sort that!--hit him as he crested it. Just don't look down. Stairs were always a thing with him, but right now he didn't care. When they were safely on the other side Az pulled a lever that hauled the bridge up. A voice he'd been afraid to hope to hear chased all thought of dizziness right out of his head.

"Well, I'll be a son of a brainmuncher. Liam! Get your butt over here before I start crying some incredibly manly tears!" said the voice. Slowly raising his eyes from the ground showed him boots, then jeans, then flannel before coming to a stop on a familiar face topped with a tattered baseball cap.

"Oh, yer gettin' a cupper!" he said. Six roared with laughter as Liam made good on his word. Once the celebrating died down they got on to the questions. Sadly, it was just them here for now. But they had hope of more, and his appearance sparked it anew. The hedge was something he whipped up with care, determination, and a great deal of scavenged Miracle Grow. Good for staying hidden, better for giving warning. Yes, yes Liam would be taking over the cooking duties. The three of them made excursions into the city for supplies in pairs most days. Near as they'd kept track it had been three months since everything had gone down. Still no idea what caused it. That topic dulled the merriment a bit.

Finally Liam sat down hard on a log near a small fire, his pack's contents clinking. That brought the smile back. Bringing it around before him he set the new shotgun on the log and pulled out a bottle of...something. The label was gone, but he knew liquor when he saw it. Was about to offer it when Az snatched the pack away.

"Save some for the rest of us," he chided.

"This bag's full. Excellent!" To Liam she said, "I"m saving it all for the lot of us. We need this to sterilize things." He shot her a murderous look that faltered only a bit when she added, "Would you rather be drunk or undead?"

"I'll get back to you on that," he said, pulling the top from the one measly bottle left to him and downing it. Six chuckled.

"It's for the best, my friend. I assure you." Liam looked doubtful, but resigned. He knew sense when he heard it. But he didn't have to like it. "I've got night watch tonight, so we'll catch up tomorrow. Maybe get some plans in place to widen our searches now that there's more of us. I'm off to check the perimeter now. Thing's near 6 foot thick, but you never know. Could be some critters chewing on it, making a hole. Can't have that. Get some rest my friend." With that he strode off toward the hedge and pulled the semi-automatic hanging from the strap on his shoulder around to face forward. Two steps towards the hedge and he seemed almost to melt into it, not bothering with the bridge. That's our Sixy.

Stretching out on the log, which he found oddly comfortable until he realized Dingo had curled up where he was going to put his head, he settled in for the rest of the night. A pat on the nose was in order, it seemed. Even Az's clinking as she sorted his, no, their supplies couldn't dampen his mood. This was the best night in a long, long time.