The best place for me to start would be at the beginning. When I last signed off, we were all stuck in the warehouse with a horde of the Undead on the opposite side of the wall trying their hardest to get in. We had no options really. We were surrounded with no vehicles to try to make a run for it. Further reconnaissance had revealed that there were no sewer pipes coming into the building that could have been used as an exit. We were trapped.
I took some of our better shooters up to the roof, thinking that maybe we could take them out one by one from there but once we finally got a look at the number of them, we quickly realized the dire state that we were in. To shoot could only mean drawing more and in the distance, more were already on the way. It was like someone had rung the dinner bell.
I felt partially responsible since I had chosen this particular warehouse but how could I have known that it had been marked? Or if that was even what had happened? We really didn’t know how the Undead had found us. When Ben, Bob, Julie and I had been travelling through the US, we had determined that they couldn’t hear or smell us. The only sense that still really worked was their sense of sight and that might have just been a light versus dark thing and perhaps recognition of movement. Now that we’ve discovered that the recently dead can come back without being infected by one of the Undead, did that change what senses came back with them? Were we dealing with a new breed of the Undead? The questions didn’t help while we were facing down a veritable army of them camped outside our current stronghold.
We went back down into the warehouse thinking that if we got everyone onto the second and third floors we could at least destroy the stairs and block their ascent up to us if they ever got in. It was a last resort but if you could have seen the numbers we were facing you would have understood the hopelessness of our situation. It was either that or try to shoot every last one of them from the roof and hope that our ammunition was greater than their numbers.
We posed the question to the community. They opted for both plans believe it or not. Everyone dutifully and calmly filed up the stairs and spread out among the rooms of the second and third floors. We had decided not to destroy the stairs yet but we had someone posted on them just in case we needed to get the job done quickly. We weren’t even sure if we were going to be able to do anything about them but we were going to sure as hell try.
About 30 of us went up to the roof with as much of our ammunition as we could carry. We set up and starting taking out shots. Things were going smoothly, the Undead were falling and it looked like nobody was missing anything that they aimed for. The trick was to aim farther away from the building. Aiming straight down was a little harder because you could get a little lost in the vertigo of the moment.
To see all of those bloodied and blackening faces staring up at you now, their milky dead eyes searching out ways to get to you set your skin crawling. The Undead were definitely an equal opportunity employer. There were all races and most likely religions represented. The Undead didn’t discriminate. They just wanted you, and the sooner you joined the ranks the better.
It was like balancing on a razor of terror. One wrong step and you’d be sliced open, your soul exposed for all to see. So many of us barely keep it together on a day-to-day basis. But then in situations like these with the Undead ready to tear you apart or make you one of their own, tension and stress are both good and bad. They wear you down but they can keep you alive. Again it’s that balancing act and you have to learn to walk that line or face potential death.
We weren’t making any headway with the head shots. They were falling but it just seemed like the minute that one fell, two more pressed into the spot that it just had been. It was the one of the most depressing sights to be seeing at the point. Despair and hopelessness welled up in each of us. This was it. We all thought it was over. We looked at each other, thinking that maybe it was time to take stock of our ammunition, knowing that we would want to make sure that there was enough left for us when the time came. None of us would want to become one of them.
Then the strangest thing happened. The pressure in our ears rose and in response we all turned to the west in time to see the outward wave of the Undead falling. It was like a pulse of yielding death had set them free from their misery. Like dominoes they fell and continued to fall until each and every one of them was down. And none of them got back up.
We didn’t know what to make of the sudden and complete dropping of the Undead. In the distance, I could see a large convoy of what looked like military vehicles and they were heading in our direction. Could they be responsible for this?
We headed back downstairs, excited to tell the rest of the group what had happened. Our excitement was short-lived when we came face to face with the reality that whatever had killed the Undead had also affected all of the people on the second floor of the warehouse. There were over 200 people dead from something that we didn’t understand. It was awful but would they come back? Were we locked in here with them now?
We had to get out. It was imperative at this point. We couldn’t stay locked in this warehouse with over 200 bodies that could awaken at any moment. But with the weight of the other bodies on the outside doors, would we be able to get out? Were the Undead even down for good or were they just stunned? How much time did we have? Our window was getting smaller by the moment so we had to act now.
The doors all opened outward so we stayed away from the west, north, and south sides of the building. With the way that the corpses of the Undead had fallen against the building, it would be next to impossible to push them away. Our only hope was the east side. The Undead should have fallen away from the side of the building. Hopefully. Moment of truth. It was difficult but not impossible. With a little straining and a lot of shoving, we could get the door open and we started to file out. We picked our way across the sea of rotting bodies, the smell foul and sickly sweet all at the same time.
It took us long minutes to get everyone through the throng of reposed corpses and get far enough away from the warehouse. It must have been at least 2 kilometres at least. We could hear the vehicles in the distance driving over the corpses. The popping sound that they made and they exploded, the sounds of bones breaking. Normally you wouldn’t hear those noises but there were so many bodies and the vehicles were whisper quiet. Definitely military, maybe Special Ops if they were that silent.
We waited for the trucks to find us. I knew that they had seen us. They had to know we were there. Why else would they have helped us?
The convoy of black militarized vehicles pulled up in front of the group within the next 15 minutes. A large African-American man in his mid 40’s got out of one of them, armed to the teeth. He stared us up and down for long minutes and asked who was in charge. Javier stepped forward and was rewarded with a shot between his eyes. These people meant business. Not sure what their business was, but they meant it.
We were herded into another warehouse and locked in. The weird thing was that we were allowed to keep our weapons. Hopefully they’ll explain the deal to us very soon. There are many questions that we want answers to. And we would really like to be able to get on our way as soon as possible. If they have a weapon that can kill the Undead, that’s great. The only problem is that it also kills the living.