A knock sounded on Frank's door. Opening it, he saw it was Maurice, red in the face and out of breath. He let out a cough before uttering a greeting.
"Come in, come in," Frank ushered him in. Then, he had a look out the door. Most of the apartment doors in his sight were left open, abandoned.
"You're in uniform?" Maurice asked. He, himself, was in a sweatshirt and a pair of jeans.
"Mark asked for help. And figuring I've nowhere else to go... I'd like to think I can help in protecting my hometown."
Frank noticed Maurice's face soften. He nodded before looking toward the dining table. There, his gaze met a single, black bag on one of the chairs. "All ready to rock n' roll?"
"I think so, yeah... Fuck, I don't even know what I need to bring with me."
"I'm sure they'll supply you with whatever you may need," Maurice responded.
"Have you found a safe zone for you, Josie and the kids?... I'm assuming the capital is out of question."
Maurice stopped, his eyes remained on Frank before he let them fall to the floor. "I- Yeah, we'll be going to Josie's parents' place. Western Iwa."
"Very nice. I heard nice things about Iwa."
A moment of silence passed between them both. "You don't mind, do you?"
Frank crossed his brows in confusion. "What?"
"We've been comrades ever since we joined the force. Hell, I've known you since my orientation week. We've been through thick and thin... Fuck!" he sighed. "I didn't know that you'd be staying back."
"Wait, wait, wait, wait. Maurice..." Frank started. "You, of all people, should know that I would never think that. I mean... Fuck. You're like a brother, but you've got a family that needs you, needs your protection. That's your priority. I'm staying back because... Well... I don't have anywhere else to go."
"I was hoping you'd want to tag with us," Maurice replied.
Frank made a small grimace. "Ah... I can't. I can't do that to you and Josie. You both already have your hands full. I wouldn't want to add to the stress of the situation."
Maurice nodded his head, a small, sheepish smile forming on his lips. "You're always welcome, Frank. And if things do go bad, we'll be waiting for you in Iwa."
"Thank you, my friend. But, hopefully, things will settle soon, so I can welcome you back by the town periphery."
Maurice smiled, melancholy all too present on his face. He patted Frank on the shoulder, nodding his head. "You know, I've always wanted to renovate my house. I hope I'll get a chance to do just that when we're back."
"My father was a carpenter, so perhaps I could help with some of the things."
"I would have called for your help regardless of your offer," Marucie admitted, letting out a laugh.
The sound of the sirens from the outside filled the living room.
From there, the two men made their way out the door. Frank took the key to his home and locked the door, out of habit. But thinking of what's happening outside, he wondered if he would ever come back to this place, into this building. Will he ever need the key again?
Bending over, he placed the key under the doormat, glancing at his white front door one final time before walking down the stairs with Maurice.
"You'll be in the town hall?"
"Yeah," Frank said.
"I heard Jerris will be there, too."
"Jerris?... Who's he again?"
"I thought I told you about Jerris. He's a guy I know. Works as a journalist..." There, Maurice paused as he walked out of the building, holding the door open for Frank. "I can swear... I told you about Jerris before."
"Maybe you did, I just don't have any recollection of it."
Maurice laughed. Turning the corner of the residential building, they walked right to the parking spots. Frank eyed the one car that remained complete. Maurice's car. It was a grey hatchback, and from here, he could see the number of things stuffed in the back. A little ahead of it, three heads looked out the window, awaiting the arrival of the two men.
"I can drop you off closer to the town hall, if you like. We're going that way anyway."
"Sure. Would give me a chance to say goodbye to Josie and the kids," Frank replied.
Opening the door of the passenger seat, Frank smiled before greeting Maurice's wife. "Josie, how are you doing?"
"I think I've seen better days..." she replied, referencing the destruction around them. Maurice reversed onto the main road before driving off.
"And what about Karla and Mason?" he asked next, his heart melting at the sight of the slight diffidence in both of the kids' eyes.
"We were a bit upset, at first," Josie said, looking at both of her children. "But after hearing that we'll be going to granny's and grandpa's place, they couldn't wait to leave."
"Mom said that they'll be rebuilding the town," the oldest child, Karla, said. "And that's why there are things everywhere, and the sirens are off. They're taking everything down so they can build new buildings. Isn't that right, mom?"
Frank glanced at Josie. He saw how her eyes grew glassy and red, welling with tears. He could see and feel the heartbreak. She nodded her head, finding it harder to speak.
So, Frank helped her. "Oh yes. And by the time you're back, you won't even recognise Sileaux!" he said.
"It will be a city!"
Maurice looked at his children's reflection in the rear-view mirror, "Yeah, Sileaux will turn into a big city, with lots of toy stores!"
They drove down the wrecked streets. With most of the buildings still on fire, the rain that fell did little to help extinguish the raging flames.
Not long ahead, Maurice was forced to halt his car. An obstruction, composed of wrecked cars and debris from the destroyed buildings, blocked the way forward.
"Looks like we're gonna have to find another way..."
Frank looked at the windshield, how the raindrops splattered themselves against the glass, at times, almost creating a pattern of sorts—one which was rubbed away by the working wipers. Then, steering his look to the left, an alleyway caught his attention. He knew that he'd be better off going on foot to the town hall, as opposed to having to find another way around.
For now, the streets seemed quiet. Frank hoped it would stay like that. That if something had to happen, it would come about only when Maurice and his family were long out of Sileaux, and Frank was behind the walls of the hall. He verbalised his thoughts. "I'll go on foot from here. There's no way of knowing which ways to the town centre are blocked, and which are not."
"Frank..." Maurice said. "Are you sure?"
"Frank, please," Josie began. "We don't mind dropping you off in front of the town hall. We'll find a way to get you there."
Almost immediately, Frank shook his head. "I can't let that happen. And I won't. Maurice knows as well as I do. Those things..." Just as he was about to talk about the creatures—monsters, he forced himself to stop, knowing that Karla and Mason were listening. "You need to get out of here while it's still as peaceful as it is right now." Looking at the kids, Frank let out a small smile. "Your dad, Maurice, needs to drive you all out of here before the builders come with their big, big bulldozers!"
"Are they going to run us over??" Karla's face carried an expression of fright, her brows merely arched upward.
"No, no. Not at all! But they might get a bit annoyed that you're in their way. They'll have to move their big bulldozers."
"Oh..." And there, Frank felt relief spread through him when the young girl's face softened. "Well then, we need to go. You heard Mr Frank, dad..."
Frank couldn't help but smile at her words.
"Alright then. Let dad say goodbye to his friend, and then we'll go." With that, the two men stepped out of the car.
"Frank..." Maurice began again, pulling him in for a brotherly hug. "You take care of yourself. You hear?"
"When have I not been careful?" Frank tried to humour the saddened atmosphere. "Also, you owe me that one beer, remember? I still haven't forgotten about it!"
Maurice merely shook his head, smiling once again. "I remember, alright..."
"So, we'll leave it at that then. The next time we meet, you're buying me a pint of beer, freshly drafted and all! You know I love me some fresh beer."
Maurice nodded, and there, they exchanged a handshake before hugging again. "And keep me updated," Frank added. "Do send me a text, if the networks are still up, when you've arrived at Iwa."
"Will do. Will do, my friend. And you do the same. Keep us informed of everything that's happening."
Then, from the car, Frank saw Josie open the window. "I hope Maurice told you that we're waiting for you in Iwa!"
Frank smiled at her. "He did! I just told him that if things get worse, I'll be making my way toward Iwa."
"You better!!" she replied, sending him a wave as she closed the window back up.
Frank took a step back, watching Maurice go back to his car. Being parted from someone who was a good friend and a colleague of his wasn't easy, but Frank knew it was the right choice. Maurice had a family, people he needed to watch out for. Besides, Frank knew this would not be the last time he would see Maurice, nor his family.
"Until next time, Officer Peters!" Frank sent him a salute.
Through tearful eyes, he responded with a salute back. "Indeed so, Officer Fallon."
He watched as Maurice sat back into the driver's seat. Looking a little behind, in the backseat of the car, he saw Josie and the kids give Frank one last wave. There, Maurice reversed and turned the car around. Sending his colleague one final honk, he pulled off and drove away.
--- --- ---
With a bag on his back and checking once more for his pistol, which lay in his holster, Frank walked deeper into the alleyway. He left the blazing roads behind him, only to walk into a narrow concreted pathway, filled with dumpster fires, walls of buildings—most cracked, others protruding with holes of varying sizes. At first, the smell of burning wood and plastic was overwhelming, but he got used to it.
His venture came to a halt when he saw the way ahead was blocked off, just as the road had been minutes ago. Rubble from collapsed buildings was stacked into a mountain of debris, and the walls of the two buildings Frank could see were so badly damaged that he had a clear view inside. He recognised them as apartments. To make it to the town hall, he knew he had to make his way through the blockade. There, he thought of doing just that by either climbing the mountainous stack of wreckage or diverting his venture through one of the open holes in either building.
Both options promised danger, as he saw rusted iron pointing through both the wreckage in the way ahead and the holes of either building. It was a trip hazard as well as a health hazard. One mistake, one fall. One cut deep enough.
And going back wasn't in the card, at least, not for now. It wasn't an option he was desperate enough to make.
Looking for an alternative route would take time, time he wasn't sure he had to spare.
While everything still seemed to remain quiet, Frank knew that with time, that was certain to change. The silence itself was worrisome. With the number of inhabitants Sileaux had, the fact that so many escaped and left behind a ghost town seemed like something only a horror story would be able to depict with such agonising terror.
Unsure of what to do next, Frank returned to observing the situation around him. Whenever he hit a dead-end, especially in his job, he knew there was always something more. That there was always another way, only if he looked hard enough.
A ladder.
Right behind a dumpster, a ladder, half broken, caught his attention. It stretched up before reaching a set of stairs—a fire exit.
The steps rose the length of the building, eventually reaching a height where they seemed to become a bridge, connecting one building to another. "I guess that can be my way forward..."
Approaching it, he saw the ladder was a bit too high for him to reach from the ground. Even with a small jump, though he managed to touch the cold metal, there was no way he could grab it and pull himself up. He needed something to stand on.
The dumpster, he thought.
Though the smell was horrid, he was glad for the closed lid.
Pushing it into place, so that the half-broken ladder stood right over the dumpster, Frank saw it was more than enough to aid him in climbing up the thin steps. But it wasn't until he put the weight of his body on the structure that he noticed how aged the ladder was. The darkness around him made it hard for him to see, but it was the noise of its screeching as he climbed that made him suspect the ladder might not hold him up for long.
The same could be said for the stairs which followed. With every step, Frank felt a minor dip, followed by a screech. Some steps were quieter than others, while some appeared to be louder. He kept his gaze out toward the ground, each step setting him a few centimetres higher from the ground. He could also see over the layer of debris in the alleyway, at the inferno that unravelled on the other side. Fire was everywhere: cars, buildings, and corpses, all burning away.
The level of destruction was beyond comprehension. It made him wonder how this degree of devastation was even possible. From behind, just flying overhead, he'd get his answer. Two military jets engaged in a boisterous low pass. Before a building blocked Frank's view of the jets, he saw one of them unload 2 bombs.
He felt as if his heart dropped to the ground.'Why... Why are they bombing the town?'
Before he could think of an answer, explosions lit up the sky with a bright orange hue, its deafening sound making him flinch. Simultaneously, he felt the metal beneath his feet rattle. Two clouds, with proximity to one another, rose into the sky as the jets flew once again over Frank, roaring away.
He wondered if another set of explosions was about to sound, if they were about to send thunderous waves through the ground and air once more. But instead, silence. The sound of the military jets grew fainter by the second, as the ambience of the apocalypse that surrounded him slowly set back in.
Frank continued his ascent, reaching the top of the stairwell not long after. To his right, under a light, blinking in spasming intervals, he saw the red door of the building's emergency exit. But its presence proved to be useless, as it was closed shut, and there was no way to get it opened. His only way forward was over the bridge, where one of the fireway exits—the one he currently stood on—connected itself to another, right next to it.
The stairs, the bridge—the whole structure looked sturdy from the alleyway. But the more steps he took on the bridged platform, and the more creaks that the aged metal released, the more he realised that its looks were utterly deceitful.
But he continued. He knew he had to make it across as fast as possible, and that was all he was thinking about. Until, just under halfway through, he felt a sway.
One of the bolts, one of a few which kept the bridge secured to the wall, broke loose and fell with a clank. Rolling, Frank saw it fall through one of the holes on the bridge. "Shit..." he sighed. The knuckles on both his hands whitened as he tightened his grip on the handles on each side, his feet digging themselves into the metal under him. He felt the swaying continue until it eventually balanced out.
Glancing at the ground, he felt his head begin spinning. The drop below was big, much bigger than he anticipated.
His breathing turned shallow as he turned and looked behind him. Frank was already far on the bridge, too far to turn around and go back. The grating sound of the metal on the already unsturdy structure added to Frank's already growing agony. But it also hinted at an underlying threat. There was only so much time Frank had left on the bridge.
He decided to move over the rest of the structure in small shuffles.
The swaying came back; however, it wasn't as major as before. But making it just over halfway, Frank began to notice himself merely dipping with the metal under the soles of his boots, the screeching continuing their countdown.
A tug and the jarring shuffle of rusted metal. The sounds followed Frank's pace, getting louder and louder. Then, a pop, the platform moved to the left.
Ahead of him, he saw there was still a long way to go before he reached more stable grounds. Doubts began to fill him as to whether he'd make it through, but still, he continued.
His heart pounded against his chest, and at one point, he felt the loose metal under his hands tick in the same rhythm as its beating.
The structure continued veering to the left until another pop, followed by a sharp snap, sounded. The countdown had run out. The bridge began to fall.
"Shit... shit, shit, shit!" Frank sped up his motion. Grabbing onto one of the handles, he felt it break loose as soon as he began to pull himself up. "Fuck!" he grumbled, gulping before dripping it. He needed to make it across; he had to. The metal under his feet grew more unstable by the second.
Eventually, it gave up on him.
And after one last step, he was close. So, he jumped.
With a thunderous bounce, the upper half of the body landed onto the metallic edge that remained. The grip under his hands slipped.
And as soon as he felt relief, fear took over again. He began falling.
Desperately trying to keep him up, everything his hands tried to cling onto slipped out of his grasp. Just as he felt himself slide off the edge, he made it his duty to grab onto the overhang. And that's what he did.
His legs hung down, the weight of his body stressed on his arms and moreso his hands. From the palm of his hands, he felt a few sharp rips of metal, resulting from the collapse, dig into his hands. Drawing some blood.
"Shit..." he hissed. Clenching his jaw through the pain, he pushed himself up. Swiftly swinging one of his legs onto the metal, he managed to get over the edge and onto the safety of the platform that remained stable. Once he stood on his feet, leaning against the wall, he let himself digest what had just happened.
He nearly fell to his death.
The thought sent a wave of chills down his spine. When he looked toward the alleyway, he saw the remnants of the bridge, curved and wrecked into a twisted zig-zag pattern. "Fuck..." he sighed again, feeling his beating heart thumping against his chest.
Looking at the palms of his hands, he saw a few bleeding cuts on each. Letting his fingers graze over each of the cuts, he saw they weren't anything to be alarmed about. Wiping the blood that lingered on his hands off his trembling knees, he began his way forward, not thinking to look back, only to see what was to follow.
Ahead of him, he turned a corner, following the stretch of the metal pathway. There, against the railing as he moved his head to the left, he could see another road, mayhem not letting up. A scream followed moments later, as two people ran past the wreckage on the road, followed by two more individuals who seemed to have a staggered walk—the corpses. The undead, he knew it was them. Frank felt a squeeze on his chest. He had to help them, them, and anyone else who was getting attacked.
He rushed toward an opening in the metal platform. The stairs, he hoped. And they were that, but as chance might have it, they were blocked off. Half of the steps were missing; there, a laminated page taped to the metallic pillar of the steps caught his attention.
It was a notice.
Taking a closer look at the laminated page, he read that a renovation was in place. It sounded like one of the building's dwellers raised concerns about the aged structure, appealing for an overhaul.
He knew he needed to find another way.
Looking to his right, a piece of yellow tape caught his attention, dancing in the breeze.
The rain had long stopped, and only when he glanced to the sky did he seem to notice. The clouds broke, giving way to twinkling beads—the stars.
Moving his look back to the yellow tape, he saw it came from a broken window. A few broken shards of glass were speckled in front of the window frame. Approaching it, he looked around himself, wondering if there was any other way to get through. Besides the stairway, which was blocked off, the fire exit carried him a few meters past the broken window, where he was met with a dead-end. The hallway, through the broken wooden window frame, was his only way through.
He took care when stepping through, ensuring not to add a glass cut to his injuries. Once he made it through, one leg after another, he found himself standing in a darkened hallway.
There, seeming to remember only then he had a torch on him, he pulled it out of his bag before turning it on. Not like he needed it before, anyway.
Just like the stairway, the room he was in, the hallway—he assumed again, was also under construction. The walls were grey in colour, with some patches of white speckled in a few places. Down the hall, at the very end, he saw light—an open door, like it was the main entrance of the place. But a bit behind it, another passage caught his attention. Here, the door was ajar, and through the gap was a light, pulsing erratically.
And then—just as he was about to move, a sound came. Something moved. Frank knew it was from the room with the blinking light.
'Is someone in there?'The thought brought him some relief, thinking that it was a person, just like him, looking for safety. Perhaps, Frank thought, since he was here, he'd be able to help whoever was in the room. Have them follow him to the city hall.
But then, another thought came. What if it wasn't a person?... Or, a saneindividual?
That was when he reached back for his holster, pulling out his weapon. He took his first step, glass crunching under his feet. The steps that followed were weary and careful.
"This is the police," he called out. "Does anyone need help?"
No response. He waited a few more seconds, hoping someone would say something, anything, but when the silence continued, it made him fear the worst.
He continued moving to the door.
Then, just as he placed the palm of his hand against the cold, white wood of the door, another rustle was heard. Seconds later, something fell to the ground.
"Hello?" Frank said.
He pushed the door, the hinges creaking as it opened. He felt each screech, sending a subtle vibration to the tip of his fingers.
A cart lay in front of him, holding building materials: long slabs that resembled a wooden parquet, and right beside them, stacks of cans of paint for the ceilings and walls. He stepped into the room. Almost immediately, he saw what was causing the flashes of light—a fluorescent light hanging down by a cable. And, where its light managed to reach, it only shone on one side of the room, leaving the other side dark.
His uncertainty grew. Anyone could be hiding in here.Or anything.
His worry increased tenfold when he heard something move. He aimed his gun around him, ready to take down anything that came his way.
Then, to the side of his eye, a plastic bucket toppled over and fell to the ground, the metal handle rattling as it rolled
He held his breath for a moment, the grip on his gun tightening. "I'll ask one, last time. Is there anyone here?"
Hearing no response, he took a step back.
And then, something ran for him. Something on the ground. He aimed his gun at it.
Suddenly becoming stationary, Frank had a chance to have a better look at what it was.
It was a rodent. A mere rat.
He released the breath from his chest, not giving much mind to the rat that ran away once he reentered the room.
′So it was the rat that made all that noise... Fucking hell.′
Nonetheless, Frank repeated, "This is the police. Anyone here?" Still, no reply.
Wanting to investigate more, he advanced deeper into the room. Ahead of him, he saw the kitchen to the right, a bit after the half-wall, something on the ground. Blood. And in the small puddle, as much as the wall allowed him to see, he saw a hand with a pistol resting in it. Still.
He readied his gun, carefully making his way to the hand. His flashlight uncovered a body, its head tilted to the left, resting in blood. With the way the head was tilted, Frank saw the bullet wound to the head, further cementing the speculated cause of death. Next, a white streak caught his attention, right by the handle of the pistol. It looked like a note.
Lowering himself, he saw more of the body, though against his will. His face was patterned with the alternating flows of drying blood, his eyes still wide open. The death looked like it was instant. Moving the pistol from his hand and taking the blood-stained note, he unfolded it, revealing a message written by hand;
'I tried my best, but this is my end. I wanted to make everything work, but there was only so much I could do. I think I called for the end at a good time. The world is going to shit anyway. Goodbye, my Amelia. Just know your brother will always love you. Momma and I will be waiting for you.'
Frank felt his throat tighten. Folding the page back up, he left it as he found it. He wasn't the recipient of the message. "Poor guy... Hopefully, you can find some peace now."
Taking a step back, he walked away from the horrid scene, moving back into the hallway. There, he turned right and walked out the open door.
He found himself in the corridor of the apartment building. On the ceiling, he saw a sign pointing him in the direction of the exit. He had to follow the length of the corridor.
Hope began to fill him. Hope that he'd make it to the main street quickly. Because he knew the faster he got to the town hall, the better his chances were of surviving thisarmageddon.
As he turned the corner, he was met by a thin wall of smoke, spreading rapidly. To his left, not long ahead, was the stairway of the building.
Something about the scene before him reminded him of the hostel fire he found himself in not long ago. The smoke, the blazing flames. Being on the floor as high as he was, he wasn't sure whether he'd make it out alive. The obstacles, broken doors. If anything, the situation he was in now, it proved to be much worse than that night, all those weeks ago.
Looking over the railing, he already spotted a problem. On the floor below him, the pathway to further progress down the steps was blocked. But then, in the slight draft that managed to whirl through the building, a note, stuck on the clutter, caught Frank's attention. Making his way down, he took the note that was stuck on a brown cupboard.
′DO NOT MISPLACE.′
This is a general notice for all the dwellers on this floor and above. Since the streets are filled with terrorising individuals, we tried forming a barricade. In the apartment to the right, you'll see a hole in the wall in the living room. Use that as your means by crossing from one side of the barricade to the other. Remember, once you've made it through, cover the passage with the wardrobe that's on the other side. Your compliance is much appreciated.′
Sticking the note back where he found it, though he doubted anyone else in the abandoned building would need to see it, he looked to his right, where he saw the closed apartment door. Walking up to it and opening it, he gave the door a push, letting himself in.
The hallway of the apartment was dark, and the smell of staleness, mixed with the scent of freshly painted walls, filled the air. He noticed, just like the tenement above, this one too seemed to have some works of renovation abruptly put to a halt. Half-done. On his left, where a door was meant to be, an archway marked its absence. Looking further into the room, the television on the right gave him an indication that the room ahead was the living room. Furthermore, the hole, covered by a blue transparent nylon, only confirmed he was just where the note told him to be.
Crawling right before it, he opened the nylon cover just like a pair of curtains, his way ahead blocked by dark brown wood. It was the wardrobe.
Initially trying to move it out of his way with his hands, he came to failure when he realised it was heavy, much heavier than he expected it to be. He managed to move it, but the space made was not enough for him to pass through. So, rearranging himself, he pressed his feet against the wardrobe. He carefully pushed, clenching his hands and jaw as he tried to clear the way through. Slide by slide, he made greater progress.
A few times, he felt the wooden furniture wobble under his force, abruptly stopping his actions. He didn't want the wardrobe fall. With it being as heavy as it was, he knew that getting it up, if it fell, would be an even harder task.
Judging by how it looked and moving it a bit more, he reached a point where the wardrobe refused to move any further. He tried to move it a few more times, but to no success.
He knew this was as far as it would go.
Crawling into the hole, his head made it through the opening; however, his shoulders filled the gap. "Fuck..." he sighed under his breath. Readjusting his frame, he tried pushing through once again. Bit by bit, he felt his shoulders scrape through the gap. Some of the loose wall crumbled under his force, but eventually, pushing that bit harder, he managed to get through. Standing up, he brushed his shoulders and arms clean of the dust from the construction work.
Lighting the torch before him, the room he found himself in seemed like a copy of the one he had come from. Except it was more furnished. An aged leather sofa sat opposite him, with another, smaller loveseat to his right, against the wall of the living room. Beside the smaller sofa, Frank's torch highlighted a bookshelf, with some ceramic decorations sitting at the very top of the shelf.
Shining the beam of light to the ground, he caught white streaks and footsteps on the hazel parquet. Just like his arms and shoulders, he found the dust on his knees too.
Giving the touch fabric a quick pat with his hands, cleaning it up, he proceeded to look behind him—into the gap, making sure there was no one else behind him. Seeing it was empty, he pressed his body weight on the displaced wardrobe before following the note's instruction. He pushed the piece of furniture back into place.
Moving on, his light guided him ahead, reaching the hallway of the apartment. The main door was left ajar, and right by the doorframe, on the ground, he saw drops of dried blood.
Walking out, he was met by more blood, some in the form of smaller puddles here and there, while others were drag marks, leading further through the corridor of the building.
Within three steps, he reached the railing, where he had a clear view of the ground floor and the stairway, which further led down into the basement. Just as he looked away, getting ready to walk off, a sudden bang of the door, followed by a scream, made him look back over the railing. Someone rushed into the building—a young man, as he saw seconds later, utterly terrified.
Then, another person came into view, chasing after the young man. Frank didn't have to look twice to notice it was a corpse.
The young man looked around him, trying to find anything he could use as a weapon to fend off the undead. Seeing a broken metal pipe on the ground, he grabbed it and used it for self-defence. But there was nothing he could do, as with one hit, the pipe slipped out of his grasp, falling to the ground. "S-shit!"
Just like the people he saw on the street, he was another person who needed help. Frank knew he had to intervene. "Hey! Hey, you!"
It took a moment for the young man to see Frank. "H-hey! Hey, please help me!"
Grabbing onto his weapon, Frank aimed it at their enemy. "I'm gonna need you to step away!"
Pulling the trigger, the bullet lodged itself into the corpse's head; however, it proved to be a futile shot as the creature still moved around, continuing its pursuit of the young man. Quickly, Frank sent more bullets the corpse's way, with the final bullet bringing the chase to a stop as it caused its head burst open. A flush of blood and other bodily matter rushed from the body upon its collapse to the ground, painting the cold terrazzo flooring.
"Fuck!..." he heard the young man exclaim.
"Hey, you alright??"
"Y-yeah... Yeah, I'm fine now..." He took a moment to collect himself. "Thank you. Thank you for saving me."
"Where are you headed?" Frank asked next.
"I don't know... Anywhere, anywhere that's safe."
Now able to see the person, as he walked under the railing, Frank further asked, "I'm headed to the town hall, would you like to join me? Heard it's meant to be safe there. Safer than out here."
The young man stayed silent, his muteness longer than Frank was expecting. "I'm... I'm actually waiting on someone. We were meant to meet up not too far from here, that's where I got chased from."
Frank was about to reply when he said, "I- Wait, let me get downstairs. Then we can talk more."
He presumed the young man would run away once he was out of sight, leaving the main corridor empty. However, just as he walked down the steps, surprise filled him when he saw the young man, hands in pockets, waiting.
"What's your name?" Frank asked next.
"Miles. Miles Clarke. You?"
"Frank Fallon."
Miles glanced down at Frank's uniform. "You're a cop?"
"Yeah, I am."
Miles nodded. "Great. Makes me feel a bit better."
"Glad to hear it," Frank started. "We'd better make a move on, though. It's only a matter of time before something like that...thing tries to get us again."
"Zombie," Miles said.
"What?"
"Zombie. Thatthing, it's a zombie. At least, it looks like one." Miles paused, looking at the decapitated corpse. "A dead body, alive..."
Frank froze at Miles's words. "A... zombie?" he repeated. He knew what it was; in a few movies he'd seen, he saw depictions of such creatures. But the fact that Miles used it as a description struck him with a sense of familiarity. Like he'd already heard something similar to that before.
"Well, yes. You know what a zombie is, right?" Miles couldn't help but chuckle. "That's what it is. A walking corpse. It's not meant to be alive, but it is."
Frank shook his head; he didn't want to believe it. "How... how can that be? A dead body coming back to life? I've only heard of shit like that in video games, and seen them in movies..." Up until now, Frank never used logic to understand how he saw thesecreatures; he associated them with threat and neutralised them. But now thatzombiescame into play, unfortunately, everything started making more sense. The morgue encounters, and how, even when Frank held them at gunpoint, they persisted. Their corpse-like appearance made all the more sense now, too. But it made his mind return to the question ofhow?
How can something that sounds like utter science fiction appear in real life?
Miles raised his hands halfway up, seeming to surrender partially. "I might be wrong, I only know of zombies from video games. I haven't seen one in real life... Until now." Miles paused, looking back at the bleeding body. "I don't think I've ever seen something that can match the description of a zombie better than whateverthatthing was."
Frank clenched his jaw, the grip on his weapon tightening once more. "We need to get a move on before more come. The town hall is not too far away from here..." Expecting a reply from Miles, he knew there was something more when Frank saw mere hesitance in his demeanour.
"I... I wanted to ask if you can help me find my friend?"
Frank gave him a slight, sheepish smile. "Unfortunately... with the way things are now, we need to get to the town hall first, where it's safe. It's getting more dangerous by the second, the longer we're out in the open. And who knows, your friend might already be there."
Miles let out a gentle sigh; his shoulders seemed to lower. "Alright... But you lead the way, I'm not too sure where I'm going."
"I fear I might be the same. There's very little I recognise out on the road. Given what's left of the town, with all the wreckage, I might as well be in a different place altogether." Pausing for a moment as he looked through the bloodied glass of the front door, getting another glance at the mayhem that unfolded on the other side, he found himself adding in a whisper, "Not even in my worst nightmares did I think I was going to witness the fall of my hometown..."
They walked out the door, back into the unrest, filled with fire and smoke.
As the seconds passed, Frank realised that on this side of the building, things were much different. They were much more intense. Where there was no one in sight where Maurice dropped him off, here, he saw people running for their lives, chased by thezombies.
The word was still a foreign concept to Frank, more specifically, when applied to the real world. It was a fact he refused to believe. The world wasn't broken yet, not in his eyes.
From a gated alleyway, a fellow officer, as Frank recognised moments later, ran out, bolting through the gate door before closing it behind him. Clutching onto his stomach, he rested against the gate, sliding down to the wet ground.
It was Officer Carter Haydes. He ran to his colleague.
"F-Fallon?... What the fuck are you still doing here?" he said, hissing in pain right after his question.
"Trying to help my town. But the more important question is what happened to you?"
"One of those fuckers happened..." Carter began. "They bit me. Thought it was a person in distress, but before I had a chance to defend myself, it was too late." He paused, hissing in pain again. "Is Peters gone?"
"Yeah, they're gone to his wife's parents' place, up in Iwa."
"Good. Glad he was the most sane of us three. You should have gone with him. Gone anywhere but here. Hell, I should have done the same..."
Frank gently nodded his head. "We're off to the town hall. We can bring you with us. I'm sure they'll have medical practitioners who can help you with the bite wound."
Carter shook his head. "No. No, I will only slow you down. And I can't let that happen, especially not now... You go and get yourself to safety."
"I can't leave you out here. Not all alone," Frank insisted.
"Yes, you can. And you will." Carter paused, pain and regret all too obvious in his eyes. "I don't know what they've told you, but... I can feel it. People die from this, Frank... and I'm afraid I may be beyond the point of help." Staggering up onto his feet, Frank tried to help him as much as he could. "I'm alright, I'm alright..." he said, gently pushing Frank's arms away. "Behind me, that's your best hope of making it to the hall. Move ahead, and don't look back."
Then, with his eyes still on Frank, he moved a step closer. "And don't make the same mistake as I made," Carter began. "If you feel in danger, do not hesitate to shoot. Now go. Run as fast as your legs can carry you. The worst thing you can do is let them get too close."
Carter closed the gate behind them, wishing they both made it out alive. Giving them one last instruction, he told them to go forward and move into the main street. From there, he told Frank that he knew the way to the town hall. After all, it was one of the best-known streets in all of Sileaux.
And that's what they did.
Minutes later, both Frank and Miles found themselves standing on the main street. Before that, a stone wall obstructed their way forward in the alleyway; however, they soon came up with a solution. Climbing up a metal freighter box, which stood against the wall, like some garbage. Frank initially boosted Miles up to the top of the box, before he helped Frank get up a moment later. From there, they both hopped over the stone wall.
The mayhem continued its raging fury.
To their right, the road was obstructed by a barricade, and as they walked past the wall that was to their left, they saw a clearance. There, Frank saw the town hall in the back. They were nearly there. But before the town hall, he saw a few figures in the way, standing still. Almost too still. An odd twitch or two showed that they were still conscious.
Their uncanny appearance made it known to Frank that they were anything but human.
"Only a little bit more..." he started, looking toward his companion. "Think you can run to the gates of the town hall?"
Miles nodded his head. "Wouldn't it be better if we sneak past them?"
Frank looked before him, calculating Miles's words. "Could do..." he finally said, nodding. "But it means we've got to be very stealthy. I'm still unsure what triggers them to move."
At that, Frank's phone went off. He tsked at its ringing, answering the call without looking at the ID. His only hope was that the creatures weren't alerted.
"Hello? Hello, Frank? Can you hear me? Are you close by?" Mark's voice sounded.
"I'm closing in on the hall, have a civilian by my side, too. But it seems like we've got some unwanted company ahead."
"Shit... I'll see what I can do. I think I've got a few men who can help. Are you able to close in on the front gate?" The static on the line began to sound. They were on a ticking timer, unsure when the call would cut.
"I should be able to, yes."
"Alright, we'll meet you both there."
And with that, the call ended.