Chapter 12: To Start A Long Dark Night

 

Chapter 12: To Start A Long Dark Night

 

 

  “Dear God Lockett what do we do?!” Carson stammers. The pair stares at the outdoor morgue area they’ve charged with guarding. PFC Lockett turns deliberately to face Medina following her frozen unit mate’s stare back over the still landscape. A short stocky man burst forth from the olive green command tent. He’s flanked by half a dozen subordinates all double timing to keep pace with him. Stopping briefly to take stock and evaluate the situation. He waves a soldier with a radio pack strapped to his back over to him. “This is Colonel Walker. I want this entire operation shut down now.” Suddenly every statuesque soldier springs into action as the man makes his way directly to the trio standing slack jawed in Bunker Two. “Get a line formed here…” he motions as he walks. “I want everyone still upright and mobile on this side behind my fire line.” There is no hesitation as Colonel Walker’s subordinate begins to hustle hospital staff, civilians and medical staff away from the prone bodies strewn everywhere. “You!” he points to Carson “Get on that M-60 and smash everything in there now.” Jabbing a finger towards the bustling contained mass of dead bodies. “You two unless you’re here to model cover his flanks.” Somewhere in in the distance a scream erupts. The once motionless corpses on the ground begin popping up like diseased jumping beans. They take down any living being close enough to pounce on. Gurgling screams fill the cool night air from one end of the compound to the other. Colonel Walker slaps on his helmet sprinting back to his men. “Open fire!” he commands. The night gives way to symphony of agony and automatic gunfire.

 

 

In Bunker Two Carson ratchets the heavy mounted machine gun as Medina and Lockett take up positions on either side of him. Squeezing the weapons trigger Carson unleashes the first teeth chattering volley of bullets. He begins to methodically sweep back and forth shredding the creatures as they slowly peel themselves from the stained white body bags. “Why aren’t these moving like those out there?” Medina asks leaning behind Carson while spent shells clatter off her helmet. “I’m not even sure what ‘these’ things are Medina.” Lockett shouts to be heard. With a “whoosh” Carson’s barrage hit’s the tires on a trailer in the rear of the morgue area. The large grey cargo container pitches forward and dozens of wobbly legged figures spill out. “Oh crap!” the boy on the mounted gun hollers to no one in particular. He trains his fire on the horde pouring to the ground. The bullets tear through the soft infected flesh with ease. Carson falls into a rhythm his aim gives way to tunnel vision. Lockett realizes Carson is focused on the occupants of the trailer. She taps Medina on her shoulder with a two fingered motion to her eyes signaling outward. Lockett instructs Medina to cover the left of the Bunker. PFC Sara Lockett picks up her weapon and draws down on the stragglers dragging themselves towards the soldiers in the Bunker. Lockett leans to the side lobbing anti personnel grenade at a cluster of advancing corpses. “Grenade! “ Lockett shouts cupping her hands to her mount. The blast clears the immediate area before them allowing Lockett to pick her targets as they shuffle for the only opening in the enclosed morgue. The thunder of the sixty cal drowns out the sounds of the battle behind the unit.

 

 

　

Carson vomits a shrill scream as he spins to the ground under the weight of the infected woman who has vaulted onto his back. The tripod mounted gun spits bullets as it twirls about detonating the rear tires on the APC parked in front of the Bunker. “Boy I want ……” the enraged infected woman snarls. Medina pistons the butt of her rifle into the back of the woman’s skull until her orange flecked eyes go dim. “Are you ok?!” she asks helping the strapping boy to his feet. “Yeah .. Yeah.” He pants swaying on his feet placing his helmet back atop his head with the sound of the big gun ringing in their ears. The unit stops to take stock of what going around them. “There’s not as much gunfire as there was before.” Medina tells Carson who taps Lockett on the shoulder. “What!?” she rises up never taking her eyes of the straggling dead bodies moving hungrily in their direction. “Did everybody retreat?” Carson looks about. “Either that….” Lockett interjects popping of a round dropping a corpse. “….or they’re dead. Either way we’re screwed.” While the morgue area is relatively clear of the dead. The same can’t be said for the grounds of St. George’s. What had been a setting of organized chaos when the fight began is now the scene of a massacre. Everywhere groups of infected hover over dead or dying victims. As slower undead amble about fighting over scraps like scavenging hyenas. “We have to fallback Lockett.” Carson contemplates aloud. “Fallback to where?” she exclaims “our backs are up against a wall and everything in front of us is dead.” They all lock eyes confusion sets in about what to do next. “Now Carson hand me your weapon and unhitch that M-60.” The tall soldier does as instructed while Lockett slings his rifle over her shoulder. Medina shushes the pair pointing out in the distance. “Some of them are talking to each other.” She whispers.

 

 

　

“Look I got an idea.” Medina calls to them as they all take a knee. “We need to blow that sandbag wall.” She directs their attention to a sandbag wall forming the outer perimeter of Bravo Company’s command tent. “Next we need to hit that gated abutment there.” In the distance they all stare at the gate that was cordoned off as the initial checkpoint of the hospital. “Why go that route and draw attention to ourselves.” Carson mumbles perplexed at the overly complicated plan. Pointing over the sandbags Medina shows him. “We get in the APC and drive over everyone and everything in our way.” Carson shakes his head “Medina you’re crazy girl. That APC is two tires short thanks to that thing that tried to eat me earlier. Lockett smiles from under her helmet “Carson even missing four wheels we’ll get farther in that tuna can than we will on foot. All we have to do is get far enough from her to commandeer another vehicle.” Carson cocks an eyebrow “fine ladies on three.” The two young female soldiers each unhook a grenade from the straps on their chests. “Lockett …” Medina begins. “You go for the first wall and I will toss for the gate.” Lockett signals her agreement “On three people.” She does feel the fetid mouth inches from her cheek until it crunches spent shells under its mangled feet as it moans in frustration. Spinning to the ground she unsheathes her combat knife in one motion. With two hands Lockett drives the polished blade under the dead mans chin puncturing his brain pan. “Something smells delicious.” a gore covered man saunters around the front of the APC. Black blood soaked bandages dangle in tatters from his neck. He tosses a mysterious slab of meat to the ground after ripping a chunk free with his teeth and chewing it greedily. “Mmmm yeah it’s you.” He turns shouting “Over her folks we got a couple tender virgins to sacrifice!” Medina hefts her weapon up as the infected man turns back to face her. With a growl he draws back and she fires. A single round from the M-4 plows through the bridge of his nose dropping the angry corpse in place. Medina Carson and Lockett stand up from behind their barricade. There’s no counting the number of aggressors charging their position. “Three…” Medina says softly.

 

 

Lockett hurls her grenade above the horde. It lands as they vault over the sandbags then explodes the infected don’t break stride. Carson cuts loose with the M-60 mowing down the first wave of infected hurtling full speed at them. “Medina you climb up and pop the rear hatch.” Lockett takes up a position dropping to one knee next to Carson behind the APC. Carson works the M-60 standing prone will pivoting at the waist sweeping from side to side he mows down the brunt of the invading dead horde. Lockett is there strictly to cover Carson and clean up runner that make it through the teeth of the M-60’s assault. They measure their shots as Medina crests the top of the huge military transport. Medina feels the panic setting in but she follows through on her mission. She flips the hatch open drawing in a chilling breath seeing the living dead wave about to break upon them. From one knee atop the military vehicle Medina tosses the grenade in the direction of the main gate. Without hesitating she flips the cumbersome hatch and climbs in closing the hatch behind her. Medina lands inside the cramped confines stripping off her pack. She moves through to the driver’s seat. Medina mashes down the APC’s black rubberized ignition button the powerful diesel engine burps to life. With her opposite hand she yanks down the level marked “rear hatch.” The huge rear hatch begins to descend with a metallic whine. “Get in!” Medina screams at her unit mates backs. She can see how close the infected are now. For the first time since this began PFC Carlita Medina is afraid. Carson is busy clubbing a duo of crazies with the empty M-60. He leaps up the open ramp then reaches forward securing the back straps of Lockett’s fatigues. He drags Sara Lockett into the cramped interior of the APC both falling backwards. “Close it …. Close it now Medina” Carson yelps. Medina jams the switch back into the close position. Dozens of hands paw at the closing door as the screams and howls continue. Severed hands soon plop down wetly to the floor inside the cabin putrid severed digits and hands litter the compartment. Before the door can close completely a screeching woman twist her damaged body inside the opening narrowly avoiding being crushed by the hydraulic door. She lunges for the downed soldiers as a deafening shot rings out in the sealed transport. The impact slams into the infected woman’s shoulder but doesn’t slow her. The second shot lodges in the ghoul’s eye socket putting her down for good. The pair of soldiers huddled on the floor peer up at their comrade in arms Carlita Medina holds a shaky smoking sidearm. “Hold on.” she yells over her shoulder diving into the driver’s seat. The beast of a vehicle lurches onward as it is battered from the outside. Medina takes the crippled APC over what’s left of the sandbag barrier it bounces violently. Once they a hit relatively clear path she guns the powerful engine getting as much momentum behind the armored carrier as possible. “We’re headed for the main gate people.” Medina wrestles with the wide steering wheel. Lockett and Carson grab hold of the straps on the wall. “Don’t stop Medina hit it hard!” the engine growls louder as the APC picks up speed. They hit the gate and blow through it cleanly finding them on a clear open road. The infected sprinters fall further behind the speeding transport even as it spits out rubber from the shredded tires. They ride on as what began as a low grinding noise becomes a wobbling clang. They find themselves near a clogged highway on ramp when the brakes go out. Medina attempts to slow the APC by swerving it across the road. “Uhhh guys we got no brakes…” Medina calls from the front. “We’re gonna crash…” she announces and the transport smashes into the rear vehicles of a massive pileup.

 

 

 

 

Well better late than never Chapter 12 finds our trio of soldiers Lockett, Medina and Carson fighting for their lives. The situation at St. George''s hospital had gone from bad to massacre before our troops could even make a move. So the three young soldiers had to fight their way out of the killing  grounds of the Military encampment. They now find now find themselves in a stalled APC on a congested pileup near a blocked highway.

 

Comeback the week of November 11th find find out what happens next in The Living Dark.

 

Sincerely:

 

The Living Dark

 

 

https://www.facebook.com/TheLivingDark

 

Happy Halloween

Zombob's Zombie News and Reviews: LADIES & GENTLEMEN, WE HAVE A WINNER!!A while ba...

Zombob's Zombie News and Reviews: LADIES & GENTLEMEN, WE HAVE A WINNER!!

A while ba...: LADIES & GENTLEMEN, WE HAVE A WINNER!! A while back, in celebration of my blog's 1000th post, I decided to have a contest/challenge. The...


Hey drop by and read the new story I wrote for this contest it's called "The Day after Dawn" about what happened immediately after the end of Dawn of The Dead 78.

Chapter 11: Meanwhile at St. George's

Chapter 11: Meanwhile at St. George’s


"PFC Lockett" a large square jawed man in a dusty desert camouflage patterned uniform bellows. In a blur the young private appears before her commanding officer. In the grand military tradition the young woman was almost indistinguishable as a female in her gear. "Sir Yes Staff Sergeant Sir!" she responds as she had been trained standing bolt upright saluting the large man with the brown buzz cut hair. "You, Carson and Medina report to Bunker Two STAT! Relive that team and have them report back to the command tent." The girl snaps her salute back up "Sir Yes Sir!" Turning Private First Class Sara Lockett hustles double time past two soldiers flanking her. A large well built young man whose eyes are so grey they almost appear to sparkle in the mid day sunlight. His name tag reads "Carson" in black letters. The last of the trio is a short stocky Hispanic soldier with "Medina" emblazoned on her gear. They both fall in line behind Lockett keeping pace with her. They move in well rehearsed patterns through the haphazardly placed obstacles. In the act unfolding around them they are but bit players. This would appear odd at best in the days before the sun lashed the earth knocking out all the running electric. St. George's Hospital dominates the landscape a sprawling cinderblock grey building. Which stands three stories high and runs on for almost a full square city block and right now the Army controls every aspect of it. Large armored personnel carriers sit strategically parked between sandbagged bunkers most of which sport heavy mounted belt fed machine guns. Hastily erected fences cordoned off areas blocking access points that are monitored by well armed soldiers.


Sara Lockett dodges around people as she goes her unit mates tight on her heels. There were long lines of people waiting to go through the various field triages the military had put in place. Only the most serious of cases are allowed into the hospital which was running on minimal power provided by several huge generators affixed to guarded military flatbed trucks. Sara dips to her left deftly avoiding a blonde man wearing jogging attire nursing a wounded arm wrapped in a bed sheet. Carson however wasn't as quick on his feet he was more of a bulldozer plowing headlong into the man. The smaller man bounces off Carson stumbling right into Medina who catches him keeping the smaller man from landing face first on the concrete. "Sir you ok?" She asks the man steadying him with her free arm as she keeps her Black M4 pointed at the ground with her free hand. "Yes..." the man answers in a daze. “I ... I just need to see a doctor." he holds his arm up as if to bolster his claim. Medina glances to Lockett who steps forward. "Sir is that your only injury?" "Yes it is." he replies she then takes him firmly by his uninjured elbow guiding him to a long line of people awaiting treatment. Locket places the man at the end of the line. "Sir this is where you need to wait for treatment for non life threatening injuries." The man peers down the long line before returning his gaze to the brown skinned female soldier. "This is a long line Ma'am." he tells her. Lockett turns scanning up and down the line seeing approximately two hundred people in similar condition. "Yes it is Sir it is a very long line." she relays flatly to the man. Turning on her combat boot covered heels "Carson, Medina on me let’s move double time!” As they trot away from the man Carson calls to Lockett. "When did you get to be all business Lockett?" Approaching their destination "I've always been all business Carson. It's just never been any your business." She yells over her shoulder. The trio chuckles for a second but snap back to the task at hand as they reach Bunker Two.


They find themselves relieving another trio of soldiers possibly no older than they are. “Staff Sergeant wants you back at Command STAT…….” Looking down at her fellow soldiers name tag “…Angelo. “ Sara tells the young man leaning on the mounted machine gun in the nest of sandbags. Upon hearing the command the other to men in the bunker hastily grab their gear and muster up behind the lanky solider. “I need a status report.” Lockett tells Angelo. Speaking with a decidedly thick New York accent Angelo appears to teeter under the weight of his pack smirking. “Nothing for me to tell you Lockett when you watch the dead makes it for a slow ass day.” He begins pointing to his left all heads pivot. “This here is our makeshift morgue.” In the fenced area there are rows of neatly arraigned plump cocoon like white bio-hazard body bags bearing the CDC logo. “The white body bags with the CDC logo are not to be contacted by anyone not bearing authorization from command. They’ll be by to get those in the morning.” He leaps over the four foot high sand bag wall standing before a locked gate. “Nobody gets in or out of here without hospital authorization. We aren’t turning any remains over to any family members or funeral homes. All remains not designated for the CDC will be locked in one of the refrigerated semi trailers all the way in the rear.” Sara Lockett cranes her neck in the extreme rear of the guarded area she sees a row of about fifteen trailers. “Lockett you guys sole responsibility is control of the morgue area. Bunker One ….” Angelo motions with a slender finger directly across from Bunker Two at the hub of activity. They all have to step to the left to peer around a huge olive green armored personnel carrier. Bunker One is a hive of activity easily ten times the size of the meager accommodations Lockett and her compatriots were responsible for. “Bravo Company is responsible for everything else guys so stay out of their way. They are focused on peace keeping and controlling the flow of civvies in and out of the area and its nuts I tell ya!” Sara turns looking over the well organized Company of soldiers “How many?” She inquires hooking a thumb in Bunker One’s general direction. Angelo hunches his thin shoulders. “Roughly two hundred at last count” A bald husky soldier interjects from behind Angelo. “Well we’ll see you in twelve hours.” Angelo says as he and his troop double time it back to Command.


After a brief game of paper rock scissors Carson draws first watch. Lockett sits at his side her helmet off enjoying the early afternoon sunlight resting on the horseshoe shaped ring of sandbags. Medina is snoring softly her helmet over her eyes. She rests peacefully her back against the brick that forms the outer wall of the massive hospital. Carson stands with his rifle slug across his broad chest. Sara notices how imposing the boy’s physique is as he cast a shadow over her. “Hey Carson….” she gets his attention. He looks down to her. “How’d you come from Sheep Skin Montana to the military?” His smile is almost as obvious as the cherry red blush on his cheeks. “Lockett come on why you gotta bust my ass like that?” He chuckles before correcting her “It’s Sheep Creek Montana.” The pair of young soldiers gazes back out across the organized chaos surrounding them. “I tell you Lockett there aint much to do else in a town of three hundred forty two people after high school. I guess I just wanted to go some place I’d never been and see some folks I didn’t know.” He peaks back at Lockett noticing how pretty she is even in unisex Army fatigues. Smiling back at him “You just wanted to kiss some girls that weren’t your cousins.” She jabs at him playfully. They both giggle “and you?” Carson asks. Sara Lockett stares of at the cloudless sky past Carson. “Same as you I guess…” a smile touches the corners of her mouth. “…eeeeeeeexcept the part about kissing cousins.” Carson raises a playful eyebrow in her direction. “I come from a rather rough part of the south side of Chicago. When you’re a teen life has a pretty simple pattern where I’m from. If you’re a guy it’s join a gang, make a few babies, go to jail and or get murdered. Now girls on the other hand it goes bad relationship, pregnancy, drop out of school rinse and repeat then rinse and repeat.” Her stare comes back down to Carson only find out he is regarding her with a flirtatious eye. They pass the next few hours chatting then changing out post positions.


Lockett finds herself nodding peacefully in the bunkers rear. Medina takes point while Carson props his big feet up on the sandbag wall. “Lockett ……” she becomes vaguely aware of her name being shouted repeatedly. She stirs hoping to fall back asleep. “Lockett …” she is violently jerked from her sleep. “Whaa …” she mummers groggily to herself mistakenly believing her dad is attempting to wake her for school. “Lockett get up now have got a real problem!” Carson yells pulling her up. Lockett’s helmet falls from her face and clangs to the ground. She notices it is now night twilight to be exact. The sky has a fading line of sun at the horizon and vivid orange bands of Aurora twist across the sky like colored smoke. Blocking the rest of her view is Carson. His eyes are so wide they appear round like a Japanese cartoon characters. He’s panicking his skin is almost devoid of any color. “Get up Lockett!” he shouts pulling her to her feet. The image that greets Lockett’s eyes shocks her awake on this mild night like a slap to the face. Everyone is still as if the world is holding its collective breath. For so many people to go suddenly silent is biblically unnerving. She scans the scene there are people laying everywhere as if they dropped where they stood. Medical and hospital staff along with hundreds of soldiers and uninjured civilians mill about dumbfounded. Almost every person in line to be treated or who had some type of wound where blood had been drawn lay where they fell. Dead people litter the ground their eyes open reflecting the eerie glow of orange cascading across the sky. Medics and hospital staff alike attempt to rouse the stricken victims around them to no avail. A loud clap startles everyone as the exterior mounted generators kick on and bathe the surreal scene in an artificial white light. PFC Sara Lockett catches movement out of the corner of her eye. At first she just thinks its Medina shivering uncontrollably to her right but it’s not. Lockett pushes past her comrade in arms stepping between the girl and the mounted machine gun. She begins to shake now slowly placing a trembling hand on Carson’s broad shoulder. She turns his head with her left hand to the right afraid to speak but then utters the only words that come mind. “Jesus Christ…” disbelief isn’t an adequate enough word to describe the sight they behold. Carson falls backwards tripping over his own feet and scrambles back up right. The once still morgue area is a sea of movement and noise. Inside the packed trailers “bangs and booms” echo like bottled thunder. From one end of the fenced in “morgue” to the other white sterile body bags ungulate across the pavement like giant maggots rolling about. Every single one shows signs of something clumsily attempting to free itself from within.


  Chapter 11 is now a reality. We find ourselves meeting a new groups of chracters in The Living Dark universe. Three young soldiers Sara Lockett, Colt Carson and Carlita Medina. They are down at St. George's hospital and they even bump into an old friend of the James Family Carl Fullerton. The trio is guarding the morgue when night falls. Suddenly things don't look so goo for them. Come back the week of October 28th to see what happens to "new recurits."


Until then drop by and give our story a "like" on Facebook or leave a comment here on the blog.



https://www.facebook.com/#!/TheLivingDark



Sincerly The Living Dark

Welcome everybody to the Zombies Everywhere Zombie Blog Walk Tour 2012.Come and tour zombie themed blogs from across the web and follow and enjoy! The Living Dark <!!! START POST CODE !!!> > > Zombies Everywhere >
> [Retro-Zombie] >
> Halloween Blues >
> The Southern Northerner >
> Martha's Journey >
> Annie Walls >
> GingerRead Review >
> App'y Talk >
> Kweeny Todd >
> Jenny's House of Horrors >
> Bubba's Place >
> Fictional Candy >
> herding cats & burning soup >
> Author Sherry Soule Blog >
> Paranormal research Group Blog >
> Adult Urban Fantasy by Sherry Soule >
> Moonlight Publishing Blog >
> Candid Canine >
> Ghost Hunting Theories >
> Above the Norm >
> A Dust Bunny In The Wind >
> Faith McKay >
> Zombob's Zombie News & Movie Reviews >
> Flesh From The Morgue >
> The Living Dark >
> Some One Else's Cook >
> Stumptown Horror >
> Forget About TV, Grab a Book >
> Zombie Dating Guide >
> Strange State >
> The Paranormalist - Renae Rude >
> Idée Fixe >
> Random Game Crafts >
> WhiteRoseBud's Tumblr >
> Gnostalgia >
> Book Me! >
> Carmen Jenner Author >
> Sarasota Zombie Pub Crawl >
> Not Now...Mommy's Reading >
> Love is a Many Flavored Thing >
> Its On Random >
> Ellie Potts >
> Attention Earthlings! >
> Horror Shock LoliPOP >
> The Spooky Vegan >
> The Story In... >
> DarkSide Detectives Blog >
> Something wicKED this way comes.... >
> Julie Jansen: science fiction and horror writer >
> Author/screenwriter James Schannep >
> The Zombie Lab >
> Creepy Glowbugg >
> Pickleope >
> Sharing Links and Wisdom >
> Midnyte Reader >
> This Blog Has A.D.D. >
> Carol's Creations >
> Jeremy Bates > >
> > <!!! END POST CODE!!!>

Chapter 10: Old Friend, New Enemy

Chapter 10: Old Friend, New Enemy

Never in Nate's "natural life" would he have ever thought of scaling the side of a house. He wasn't particularly fit and he had always been a klutz but tonight in his new found condition he leaps on to the nearest widow sill. In a frenzied lust Napoleon pulls himself up the side of the James house. He climbs with a purpose taking hold of anything he can to pull himself up to the attic window. Not once does the man who in life was afraid of heights ever look down. The grunt Nate lets loose once he places a hand on the attic window sill is one of pleasure as his muscles no longer felt stress or strain. With a final heave he balances his rotten corpse using his elbows and slams his hand palm first through the glass pane slicing into his jellied flesh.

Ben had positioned himself at the base of the stairs leading upstairs to the second floor of the house. He had an idea sprinting back across the dinning room and into the kitchen. From the sink he grabs a pair of bright yellow latex gloves. Just then he hears the commotion from the attic signaling his undead neighbors much anticipated arrival. A distant muffled savage grunt followed by a heavy crash. Ben holds his breath moving quietly back to the base of the stairs snapping the gloves on awkwardly as he goes. From the attic comes the sound of a wild animal trapped. Nate fought his way around the tightly pack claustrophobic attic space. Ben knew when Napoleon found the hatch from the attic it would be more than obvious. The sounds of splintering wood followed by the clatter of falling debris and a wet splat from what he assumes to be Nate. Benjamin knew his foe had found the way into his sanctuary. A roar erupts from the second floor of the house soon comes pounding footsteps from above. Nate was howling his name “Beeeeeeeeeennnnnnnn!” as he came cresting the top step. Ben stands rigid against the wall at the base of the staircase. His tongue feels coarse as if it is wrapped in sandpaper and his heartbeat bangs at his temples with each pulse. It was him, Nate and the hammer he clutched. Ben knew is his eyes would betray him the dark. He shudders as the dead man gallops down the stairs; he is almost half way down. Ben didn’t know what his enemy was capable of and more importantly he saw himself as the last barrier between death and his family. Leaning back into the wall planting his feet Ben flexes his brawny arms cocking them back slowly. Napoleon puts one tainted foot onto the tile floor and Ben unleashes the tension in his arms with gritted teeth into one savage double handed blow. Unfortunately Ben misjudges Napoleon’s diminutive height.

The fetid man took the brunt of the hit square in the gut crushing his ribs causing him to flip head over heals. The screeching corpse lands with the sound of snapping bones. In the kitchen sliding to a sudden stop banging in to the cabinets where Ben Jr. was hiding. As quickly as Nate had come to his feet. Ben was already on the move charging him bringing the mallet to bear. “You Black …….” Nate’s insult silenced mid word. The hammer catches him square in the cheek caving in the right side of his face and spinning him around. Ben delivers a boot to the back of the staggering figure. Nate is propelled forward head first into the stainless steel kitchen sink. Ben seizes the opportunity rumbling up behind Nate grasping him by his neck. The hammer then shatters the back of Nate’s head as he fails pinned in place. The next blow removes the top of the polluted man’s head and finally Nate’s hate fueled infected rage is stilled. Ben senses the room swimming away from him before he braces himself on the sinks edge. The big man vomits what little he had eaten over the back and decimated skull of his fallen adversary. Dropping mallet in the sink Ben grabs the corpse and tosses it through the open doorway to his left. This way he thought Nate and Carl can keep each other company. He strips the gloves free and turning on the water on in the sink. It trickles out as Ben throws a handful of the tepid water into his face breathing deeply.

“Crap” he thinks to himself. “Chip!” he calls his boy. “Come on we need to get down stairs.” he pants. The cabinet below him bursts open as his partially paralyzed son pulls himself free from his hiding spot. Ben sways unsteady on his feet “Dad did … Did he get you? Did he bite you?” the boy asks from the floor hesitantly. “No son I’m fine.” Ben kneels down grabbing his son in his arms hefting him up. “Dad…Dad!” the boy shouts clapping his dad on the shoulder. “The mallet dad … we’ve got to keep the mallet!” momentarily Ben’s exhaustion shows. He turns and jabs a hand under the running faucet picking the “lucky” mallet up. “Man …. Jesus…” he swoons. “Chip I really hope that was left over jelly and egg shells from your mother cooking I just put my hand into.” Chip strokes his father’s brow “Yeah dad it was …it sure was.” He says unconvincingly. Ben carries his son to the basement doorway but as he opens the door he feels the house shutter. In the distance the sounds of a fire consuming oxygen in a great “whoosh” can he heard. “We will worry about the attic window tomorrow.” He tells his son while locking the door behind them carefully taking one stair at a time. “Chip…” Ben speaks while they cross the empty basement workshop. “Let me tell your mom and Mrs. Fullerton what happened ok?” Chip snorts “You?! Mr. ‘she made it flesh.’” Ben Jr. mocks his father. “Tell me what?!” Anne whispers from the rear false wall of the workbench. Ben winces at his stupidity upon hearing his wife in the dark. “And what the hell was that racket Benjamin?” She blocks their entrance into the underground shelter “Where’s Carl Ben?!”

 

 

 

 

Today we find Benjamin James having squared off against Napoleon Archer. His one time neighbor and block mate. The only difference is Nate has been stricken by the same infection that Carl Fullerton had. What next for the James clan? Well first Ben has to explain to his wife why he and Chip first bashed in Carl's head then Nate's. What's worse Carl's family has no idea he's never coming back!

 

Come back the week of October 21st to find out what happens in Chapter 11!

 

Sincerely

 

The Living Dark

 

 

p.s. stop by the Facebook page and give us a like!

 

https://www.facebook.com/#!/TheLivingDark

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Chapter 9: A new breed of man

Chapter 9: A new breed of man

     When a human dies and passes from this earthly world into the afterlife they say it's peaceful. It's reported and theorized that you don't even feel you soul leave your body no matter how violent your death is. What no one can tell you until now is what it feels like to die and still be cognizant as you rise up as a zombie. Napoleon Archer was running full tilt towards the James house. He felt no pain in his knees from arthritis, he felt no shortness of breath due to living a life filled with foods garnished with bacon. He vaults up the front porch investigating what he thought was a flash of light before his dull orange tinted cloudy eyes. His body feels like a wet sack of mashed potatoes. There was a sensation of feeling his bodies mass succumb to gravity. Napoleon kept thinking great sloughs of meat would soon fall from his body a plop to the ground. His mind as cloudy as his vision struggled as if it were a butterfly trapped by a maniacal child in a glass jar. His thoughts were a jumble of instincts and urges forcing him forward as all about him in the air hung a sweet odor. "Ben!" the dead man called then broke out into a wet sickly sounding laugh. "It's time to get you and those mutts of yours out of my neighborhood!" With that insult he starts beating on the boarded door.

   

    In the darkened house Ben sits behind the wall that forms the kitchen across from the open basement door. Safety was mere feet away a he cradled his eldest son in his lap. Ben looks up to see the kitchen window noticing a gap in the bottom of his security measures. Silently he prays to himself that the thing that had been his neighbor would not come checking around the back of the house. If the diseased man peers through said crack he would look upon the hidden pair. "Ben come give me you flesh!" Napoleon rages. "You never belonged here, we never wanted your kind here and you know it!" Slowly Ben presses his hands over Chip's ears attempting to stem the flow of hate permeating into his son’s young mind. Nate was sniffing at the air like an animal that sweet odor he sought was masked but the foul stench of death. "Somebody is dead in here." Nate quips. The ghoulish man assaulting the house lets out a sinister chuckle "I hope it's not you Benjamin James!" The pounding came again at the door "I want to kill you myself and peel that black skin from your hide!" Ben's fear melts suddenly dead or alive his prick-ish little neighbor had threatened him and his family. Ben could tolerate no more "Listen to me son." He tells the boy nestled in his arms as he heard Nate pulling at the boards securing the door. "I'm going have a word with our neighbor Chip." he says under his breath. The boy lurches in protest but his father puts a quick stop to that. Ben squeezes Chip gently applying firm pressure to his son assuring the boy he was in control of the situation. Nate now took to kicking the door with no regard for the damage to his unfeeling leg. "When I stand up and move for the door you climb under the sink and stay there." Ben locks eyes with his child "You stay there don't make a sound and if I don't make it Junior. It's up to take care of the family." The boy's eyes snap wide with shock "but dad!" He protests Ben places a thick calloused finger to his son’s lips. "Shhh! I won't lose but I need to you you're safe son." Chip bobs his head in a wordless agreement and Ben can see his son’s eyes become glassy with tears. Chip sits upright clutching the hammer he'd used to finish Carl off. "Don't use the gun dad the sound will draw more of them out." Ben felt the hammer pushed into his chest by Chip. Chip then rolls himself off his dad ample lap and onto the floor. Benjamin James draws up to his full height in the dark kitchen "Kick his ass dad!" comes from the floor he can vaguely see his sons outline. Ben pushes the sinful pride from his mind and turns the corner. He's got to focus and some how or another figure out how does one outsmart a dead man.

    Nate knew what he was doing wasn't right but he'd known for years his feeling about having a "black" neighbor weren't right either. His assault against the door continued as his mind was a jumble of hate. If Ben was dead and he could pull his heart out he'd at least and tear his filthy house down with his bare hands. Nate had given in to the hate that vomited out of him like the orange dish washing liquid color bile clinging to his chin. He couldn't see worth a damn as a dull milky film had developed over his dead eyeballs but anger drove his actions now. Somewhere in the distance a scream broke Nate’s manic battering his head pivots with animal like movements slowly he begins to breathe in that deep sweet scent and it draws him. It tugs him away from the stench in the house to the edge of the porch "yessss!" Nate hisses spraying orange flecked spittle lost in the splendor of the orange Aurora undulating in the night sky above him. He places a decomposing hand on the banister intent on hopping down form the porch. "Nate buddy is ... is that you?!" He hears a whisper from behind the door. In a flash he was presses against the splintered wood tiny slivers of it digging into his rotting flesh. "Heeeeeyyyyyyy Benny old buddy olllllld pal." the dead man plays out. "Nate man I need your help man thank God you came I'm hurt!" the voice pleads from behind the barricade. Napoleon could barely contain his blood lust he simply wants to dissolve into the door and materialize on the other side then devour Ben as he begs for mercy. "I... I got you buddy just let me in!" Nate stammers. He is in ecstasy inhaling the living essence behind the door. Ben moans in pain from behind the barricade and it almost drives Nate into an orgasm of rage. "I can't Nate ..." Ben spoke in distressed tones. "My arm is broken man I just..." he goes silent.” Then what Ben!? What ... What!?" Nate screams. Ben murmurs through the barrier. "Nate bro I killed Carl ... he .... He went all rabid so I put him down. I don't know what to do can you get to the attic window Nate!?" Napoleon’s eyes trace up the side of the house slowly until he see the houses only weak spot. "I left it open Nate in case we had to escape. I know it's asking a lot buddy but can you climb up there and come down here and help me? My kids are scared man and its dark in here Nate please?” A wicked grin spreads across Nate’s tattered and torn face. "That's right beg ... me for help and soon you’ll be begging for more than that!” Nate thought clearly for the first time since he'd succumbed to whatever had claimed him and his family.

 

Well as we can see I have decided to post the story here as well. I hope however that my fans will still come to

https://www.facebook.com/#!/TheLivingDark

 

 

and give the page a "like."

 

Chapter 9: A new breed of man finds Ben and Chip trying to make it down stairs to saftey without being seen. The only problem is their dead infected neighbor Napoleon "Nate" Archer. He is pounding away at the door attempting to get in a verify or see to Bens death personally. As always feel free to leave a comment
 

Sincerly

 

The Living Dark

 

Come back the week of October 14th for Chapter 10!

Chapter 8: Then the darkness moved

Chapter 8: Then the darkness moved

   As they both gaze through the crack in the window boards Chip and Ben can see Carl Fullerton moving gingerly towards their house. The lean athletic man stops briefly gazing at his own quite home. He appears confused and unsure of what to do next. He swings around and head for the James house. "What do we do Chip?!" Ben shouts pulling away from the widow catching his son by his grey t shirt. "Uh how do I know dad you’re the parent!" Ben looks about confused before he hastily replies. "but … but you're the expert!" he tells Chip. "Dad how am I an expert on something that doesn't exist?! I am a 17 year old kid deal with it!" Ben is flushed with panic spinning about the room "why in the hell did I listen to you?! Now I am sacred as crap but I don't know what I’m afraid of!" Ben notices perspiration beading up on his dark forehead; he wipes it away with the back of his hand. "Daddy .... just play it cool act normal!" Chip pleads with his father who appears on the verge of a panic attack. "Cool boy you've convinced me that my best friend is coming back here ...."

    A quick series of knocks at the door breaks the conversation "... a damn zombie!" He whispers going for the door in an uncoordinated rush. Ben comes around the couch heading for his protected front door he trips over one of the two by fours laying across the threshold. He bumps several pieces of wood sending them flying nosily into the door. Ben catches himself on the door frame "for Christ sake dad!" Chip shouts a hushed whisper. "Boy do not take the Lords name in vain!” his father calls back righting himself before the door. Pumped on adrenaline the carpenter pulls the two support board across the door down by hand flinging the door open wide he's face to face with his neighbor. "Heyyyyyy Carl how you feeling buddy!" he grins awkwardly. "Ben ....." Carl begins "… dude you don't look so good bro." Carl tells him from the front porch. "Why are you sweating like a hog man is everything ok?!" Ben is still sporting a forced grin "Uhhh tired my friend ... that's all I feel like a dead man walking!" Ben laughs aloud beginning to hyperventilate. Chips rolls as close to his father as he can manage then asks "dad are you gonna let Mr. Fullerton in so we can close the door?!" "Yeah ... yeah close the door!" with that Ben whips the door shut without thinking. Carl stands stunned on the front porch as Ben sheepishly opens the front door once more. "So... so Sorry Carl come in man." Ben says flatly. Carl steps in past Ben and moves to a tan love seat near the door plopping down heavily. Carl tilts his head back exhaling a long sigh "man it was a mad house down at St. George's." He speaks to no one in particular as Ben starts to repair the doors braces. Chip produces the mallet from besides his leg and tosses it to his dad. With precision Ben nails the boards back in place as his son wheels in closer to assist him by handing him boards. "Damn I'm starving Carl sits up suddenly!"

Ben throws the wood he's holding to the ground and rushes at Carl Fullerton from behind with the mallet held high ready to strike. Chip glides up in front of his dad catching his elbow. The two almost topple backwards but Ben catches his boy and the chair in time to avoid the spill. Carl turns around to see the two behind him with goofy smiles plastered on their faces. "You guys got any food up here?" Carl asks trailing off staring at the James men suspiciously. Ben pulls his wheelchair bound son upright his grin wavering. "Yeah … yeah Carl ..." he turns back meaning to fixes the remaining board to the doors support bracket. "Anne brought some sandwiches up ....." he speaks between hammer blows. "She made them flesh ...earlier ....." Chip winces at his dad's Freudian slip. "Fresh... she made them fresh a while ago." He chuckles nervously turning from the barricaded door. "Great!" Carl exclaims standing up from the couch. "I haven’t eaten all day seriously … where are they?" Chip points towards the kitchen "in there in the blue cooler Mr. Fullerton." Chip instructs watching Carl Fullerton walk to the kitchen "maybe once I eat we can make that supply run Ben?" Ben looks at his son hunching his shoulder silently only to see his son return the gesture. "Sure yeah Buddy!" he calls as Carl rounds the wall into the kitchen area. Ben Jr. motions for his dad to lean down and Ben obliges. The boy slaps his dad in the back of his head in the same manner one would if they were trying to wake someone sleeping heavily. "Flesh!" the boy shouts in his father’s ear. "Flesh .... she made them flesh! Come on dad really?!" The boy shakes his head in exasperation. "I see why mom doesn't let you play poker with the guys!" Ben looks down at his son attempting to compose himself. Carl comes back from the kitchen with two sandwiches and a bottle of water. "I got two ..." he says holding the white bread bologna sandwiches aloft. "I hope you don't mind." Ben shakes his head implying he doesn't falling in behind Carl. "No sir we don't mind if you eat us!" he shouts with glee. Chip slaps his forehead in frustration tossing his sandy brown hair out of his eyes. "What Carl’s" says chewing looking back at Ben. "I said we don't mind if you eat usssssss.....out of house and home!"

    Ben sits down heavily on the love seat. Carl moves all the way into the living room taking a seat on the expensive leather sofa with his back to the crack in Ben and Chip had used to spy on him. Chip rolls in to position across from Carl and his dad. Unknowingly they sit apart from each other in the artificial glow of lantern light. The cone of light touches each of their faces from its perch in the center of the grouping. "What was it like at the hospital Mr. Fullerton?" Chip inquires. Carl is in mid swig after finishing one sandwich he drains the bottle of water. "Chip it was pure unadulterated chaos son.” the man takes a huge bite from his remaining sandwich. "Man I feel so much better now! I was so hungry I was shaking." Carl says absently staring at the sandwich he looks up. "Hey Ben how are Bianca and the girls man?!" asking about his family. Ben bounces up to attention "They're fine Carl. Anne says the girls were playing while she and Bianca talked." Carl nods his approval "so guys check this out." He starts excitedly finishing off his last sandwich bite "So I'm waiting in line to be seen. They have this huge triage area set up outside with generators. The Hospital is running using these huge generators the army has brought in." Chip perks up now "the army is there too Mr. Fullerton?" Carl leans forward and Ben notices he seems livelier and some of his color has returned. "Obviously eating has done him some good." Ben thinks to himself. "Yes sir Chip they have got tanks, helicopters and soldiers everywhere. They have the situation secure and the hospital is running efficiently." Ben raises a calloused finger in the air as if he were in school. Carl slyly arches an eyebrow "yes Ben." "How's your arm?" he blurts. Gone was Carl's bloodied bed sheet wound dressing and in its place tight neat professional pristine while gauze. From elbow to wrist and encompassing his damaged pinkie finger. Carl regards the arm cautiously "they told me to take it easy and gave me some antibiotics. Took a butterfly stitch to close it too and I tell you what. Tomorrow I go jogging I’m taking my gun with me if I see those dumb asses. I'm shooting them!" Carl looks to Ben "Sorry buddy didn't mean to curse in front of Jr. there." He says with a wink to the teenager. Chip blushes ever so slightly his father notices probably at the thought of finally being on an inside joke with grown ups more than anything else. Carl catches a ray of late evening sun cascading into the dimly lit room.

   "Fellas look we've talked up so much time maybe its best if we go in the morning to my house and grab what we need. I don't want to leave the house unguarded. I've heard things about what goes on at night now it's not safe to be out I think." Chip leans in "How so Sir?!" Ben can see his son waiting to hear that word. Waiting to hear his friend utter that cliché' Hollywood word "Zombies." "Well Chip ..." he begins "first I've heard that you can now see the Aurora Borealis from like dusk until just before sunrise since the solar flares. Except it a muted cantaloupe orange color but when going outdoors at night now you have to watch yourself." He wipes his mouth absently with his good hand rubbing the saliva on his pants. "A soldier told me that bands of marauders are going about stealing supplies and generally wreaking havoc as they go." Ben snorts "criminals always take advantage of the night. Well need to get downstairs before it gets to dark or somebody sees the light." "Wait!" Carl shouts causing Benjamin James to flinch spasming in his seat kicking the cabinet holding the lantern. The room is cast into a thick blackness "Nobody move I'll get it!" Ben erupts he can be heard scrambling about. Somewhere in the dark a lamp crashes to the floor. "Sorry guys … sorry" Ben utters as the sound of him slapping the floor searching for rogue batteries. Chip is immobilized with fear he doesn't know if he fears Carl Fullerton, his ominous words, or the dark. Chips finds himself with a death grip on the arm rests of wheelchair breath caught in his throat. He wants to call for his dad; he needs the security of the rock that has been there for him through out his life even after "the accident." To hell with being one of the guys Chip opens his mouth intent on calling for his father.

    "Mr. Fullerton ...." slips from his lips effortlessly. "Yes Chip." the man answers from the darkness. "Are ..." the boy in the wheelchair swallows. "Are … you ok Sir?" the leather couch squeaks as Carl shifts his weight unseen "Yes Son I ... Just ..... want see the.… Aurora." Another crash from the floor Ben yells "almost got it!" In the dark Chip lowers a trembling hand down releasing his wheelchair brakes. "Sorry Carl!" Ben yelps from the floor "I didn't mean to step on your foot!" Ben stands up "Annnnnd got it!" flicking the switch the lantern pushes the dark back as Ben turns to face Carl. "It's ok Ben." Sitting on the edge of the couch Carl is smiling broadly. His eyes were a dull shade of orange a thick sheen of light orange drool coats his chin. Every vein in his body courses orange infected blood like a polluted river emanating from under the bandages on his arm. His skin begins to sizzle as if cooked by an unseen flame peeling up in flakes before wafting in the stale air to the floor. "Jesus!" Ben cries fumbling backwards. Carl launches at his friend teeth bared. "Come back here!" he snarls. Ben hits the floor the lantern lands painfully in his chest. He sees Carl’s diseased face looming above him beyond the light reach. The sound of ragged breathing is punctuated by Carl screeching "What!" Ben hears an all too familiar sound feet stumbling over the end of Chips metal footrests. Carl falls form the gloom landing on Ben who catches him under the chin with both his paw sized hands. Immediately he feels the intense heat Carl’s body emits singeing his palms. The lantern bobbles between to two as they struggle. "You're lucky that cripple saved you Ben!" Carl screams wrapping his hands around Ben's and pulling them outward. "When I'm done with you he's ...." his words cut off suddenly. Ben felt a blow from the dark and the rush of air accompanying it. Then it came again punctuated with a crunching noise. Carl goes limp and the life behind the orange film in his eyes dies. The body is pulled back into the dark and hits the floor with a meaty thud.

   "Dad… Dad! Chip sobs. Ben sits up to respond to his boy his body goes rigid then relaxes. Ben Jr. embraces his father tightly the mallet still in his hand digs painfully into his back but Ben doesn't care. Stroking the head of his crying boy Ben steels himself as a shudder runs up his spine. "S'ok son ... S'ok" he soothes his son whose pretense of adulthood has melted away in a rivulet of tears. Ben struggles to his feet hefting his son up. With his free hand he searches in the dark for the boy’s chair. The only light filtering in in comes from the moon through the crack in the boards. Ben sees movement in the distance on the street. "shhh!" he tells Chip in his arms scanning the street. It was Napoleon walking down his porch and into the street. Ben sees his profile as the stout man stares in the distance at Mohammed’s house across the cul-de-sac. Ben's first thought is for his neighbor’s safety he goes to call for him. "Dad no!" Chip whimpers feeling his father’s chest draw in. Napoleon abruptly turns to face the James house the side of his face away from them comes into view and it’s a shredded bloodied pulp wisps of smoke swirl skyward from his decimated face. Ben swears he and the man have locked eyes. Ben snaps to and stomps a boot down crushing the lantern and snuffing out the light. Chip and Ben bear witness to Napoleon walk then sprint towards their house.
 

The Living Dark has finally revealed it's dark and insidious nature. After Carl's much heralded return to the James household. The men fore go the plan of retrieving supplies from Carl's house and decide to listen as Carl tells them what he's learned. The sun sets and in the dark all hell breaks loose as the James men have a fight on their hands.

After such a heart pounding Chapter we will take a week off and meet back here the week of October 7th for Chapter 9 of The Living Dark.

Share your comment please!


Sincerely: The Living Dark



https://www.facebook.com/TheLivingDark?ref=hl