A Zombie Story: Pushing Through the Madness

“Anatoly Asimov, this is Captain Alistair Valentine. If you are near an intercom, please respond!”

There was no answer, so I tried again.

“Dr. Asimov, this is Captain Alistair Valentine. If you are near an intercom, please respond!”

The intercom at my fingertips sprang to life with a hiss of static. Something was coming through, but in fragments. The signal began to correct itself, and the message I heard was, “Save yourself captain. It would be suicide to try to save me.”

“Sir, I just want to get out of this death trap, and I really don’t want to survive knowing that I didn’t do anything to help any survivors trapped down here.”

“Captain, please, I beg of you,” Dr. Asimov implored, “do not attempt to rescue me.”

I couldn’t believe I was hearing this. If I were him, I definitely wouldn’t have told my would-be savior to turn back. Going against his pleas, I prepared myself.

“Sit tight doctor, I’m on my way.”

Damn my conscience; damn it all. Maybe I should have listened to the good doctor? I recalled seeing the amounts of red dots displayed on the monitor, and there were many. He was right, going after him was suicide, but I’d rather die doing something right, than to die a fleeing coward.

The way down wasn’t easy. The entire sector I was in was completely torn to pieces. The lights had gone out, and I could barely see anything. My only light was the emergency lights that were scattered throughout the area. Exposed wires littered the ground, bullet casings lay scattered, and impact points painted the walls. Bodies of security guards were at my feet, all with bullet holes in their heads, and some with half of their faces blown off. I had seen death before in war, but this was nothing like war. I thought back to my days in the military conducting covert operations in Iraq, Afghanistan, and Darfur, but nothing I had seen there ever affected me like it did when I saw these corpses. Their faces all contorted, expressing even after death, the pain they had suffered. I pushed on moving bodies out of my path, steering clear of the sparking wires, and moving debris out my way. There was a smell of smoke, and I could see the ember glow of multiple fires burning in the distance, and I could hear the sound of the water sprinklers.

There was a sound just ahead of me. It sounded like something was being dragged across the floor, and it made me feel on edge. Then I heard the moan and gasp for air of a carrier. As I stepped into the hallway, I was greeted by the cool rush of water from the water sprinkler over me. I gripped the handle of the axe tightly and proceeded with caution. Sure enough it was one of the infected whose legs were blown off. It was crawling out from one of the lunch rooms, and soon in the hallway, staring straight at me, was a group of carriers ready to feast on my flesh.

“Come get some, assholes!” I screamed, as I rushed towards them. The weight of the axe seemed lighter, as I swung it in a downward arc onto one of their heads. I didn’t bother to pull it out of the corps. The first rule to fighting with an edged weapon is that once it’s lodged into your enemy you never waste your time retrieving it, especially when dealing with a large number of foes. I unslung my rifle and held it like it was a spear. My left hand held firm on the shaft of the rifle, while my right hand gripped the butt. I raised the rifle revealing the butt, and a delivered a butt stroke to the closet attacker. The blow pushed it back, and then I drove the fourteen inch steel blade into its skull from the chin up, and twisted. Retracting my blade, I focused on the other two on their feet.

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