Thirty-Second Entry: Shelving the Competition

December 26th

Sharon saved my life, and while I wish I could say that this means that she is all better now, I can't. It doesn't, it may mean that things are worse than I feared.

The noises I heard outside were not Maria and the others, as it turned out. After putting away my journal, I grabbed the Mossberg they left me just in case it was the undead I was hearing, and went to the back of the store.

I looked out the peephole in the back door, but didn't see anyone. I unlocked the door like an idiot, and as I started to push it open it was yanked out of my hands. What greeted me was a pair of Mallville security officers. They were identifiable as having been recruited in the last few months since they were wearing the white polo shirts of Hashmir's recruits instead of the button-up shirts like Beth wears.

One of the officers, a thin blond man with rough leathery skin, was pointing as handgun at my face with his right hand, and he grabbed the collar of my t-shirt with his left.

“Nice van you got here,” he said as he pulled me out of the doorway, and then slammed my back against the painted brick wall next to the metal door frame, “Why don't you give me the keys?”

The shotgun was yanked out of my right hand by the other guard, a short woman with black hair. She held it by the barrel in her left hand while pointing a handgun identical to her partner's at me with her right.

“I don't have the keys.” I said cautiously.

“Well it didn't drive itself here, who has the keys?”

“My friends, they left, but they'll be back soon.”

“And they left you all alone?” asked the woman, “Who's in there with you?”

“No one, I'm by myself. They wanted to make sure that we would still have a place to sleep when they came back; that no one would take it over.”

“Too bad they left that job to an idiot,” commented the guy, now pushing his left arm against my neck, and the barrel of his gun against my forehead.

Yeah, no arguments with that statement really.

“Cass, go inside and make sure he's not lying,” the man ordered.

“'Kay, Vince”

I panicked, she was going to find Sharon. She was going to kill her. I was supposed to protect her and I'd failed utterly. It's times like these when I wish I was a Spike Speigel or a Vash The Stampede who could have easily slipped out of this bastard's grasp, snatch away his gun, and incapacitate him before he even realized that I had moved. It's unfortunate for me that I am, at best, the comic relief.

“You look familiar.” grumbled the man.

“I'm from Mallville, same as you. You've probably seen me there,” I answered as best I could with his arm cutting off my air.

“No, it's something more,” he pushed the barrel of his gun harder into my forehead as he thought, “I know! You're one of the-”

He was interrupted by a muffled crashing noise from inside the store, followed quickly by another. There was a startled cry in a woman's voice. The man loosened his grip on my throat, and looked in the direction of the door.

“Cassie, you okay in there? “ he called, “What's goin' on?”

I was terrified that the woman, Cassie, was doing something to Sharon, so I took the only opening I thought I would get, and pushed against the leathery faced man. I brought my left arm up, knocking his arm off of my throat, and up into his gun hand. The end of the pistol slid roughly up my forehead, just skirting the edge of the scar over my eye.

Vince's finger tightened on the trigger, and he fired a shot just as the end of the gun cleared my head. I felt bits of brick rain down on my head as the bullet harmlessly bounced off of the wall, and ricocheted away from me.

I brought my right hand up, and grabbed his wrist, trying to force the gun to stay pointed above me, and keep him from getting me in front of it again. I wished desperately that I had a machete, or a hatchet, or even a well sharpened pencil, but all I had was my own skills and brute strength; so basically I was pretty fucked.

I feel that I should point out that the sum total of my lifetime fighting experience is a couple of fights in junior high school where I essentially stood there and got pummeled until the bully tired himself out and gave up, and a couple of tussles with the undead. One thing that the living do that the undead don't? The living take cheap shots.

Had I more fighting experience, this move probably would have occurred to me sooner, allowing me to at least try and deflect it, if not pull it off myself. The leathery security officer brought his knee up into my groin, and I went down like a house of cards, that is if houses of cards could curl into the fetal position.

Vince aimed his gun back towards my head as I slid down the wall, to end up sitting on the ground, “You're one of the ones Kaur warned us about!” he yelled, “You helped to kill us all.”

I wanted to say something witty like “Kaur did that for me,” or “Maybe some of us deserve to die,” but I was too busy being in pain and contemplating how the last thing I was ever going to feel was a kick to the balls. This is where Sharon saved me.

There was another noise from inside the store, sort of a metallic impact noise, and Cassie staggered out the door. Her face was a mask of blood, her nose was flattened against her face, and it looked like her left eye was gone. She was gripping her right arm in her left, as if it were broken or otherwise badly injured.

Vince was distracted again, but I was still in too much pain to take advantage of this. This is probably a good thing though, as I would have just gotten in the way.

There was a blur of beige and crimson from inside the doorway that impacted with the back of Cassie's head, sending her falling to her knees. Sharon stepped out of the doorway, and I could see what the beige object had been; Sharon was holding a three foot by two foot metal shelf in both hands; the metal tab where it hooks into the gondola, and in fact a good portion of the end of the shelf not in Sharon's hands, was covered in blood.

She hadn't put her shoes on; she had come out to the alley in just her socks armed with only a shelf, and she was there to save my life.

I sat there too stunned to move; Sharon looked terrifying to me. It's not that she looked to be in a rage, or tthat here was any sort of malice on her face, because there wasn't; quite the opposite in fact. Sharon's face was as pale and expressionless as it had been when I was reading to her. Her eyes were glassy and blank, as if she were looking through the world instead of at it, and her cheeks were still wet with tears. She wielded the shelf like some sort of weird warrior, but her face betrayed nothing.

In the time it took Vince to realize what he was seeing, and even begin to move the gun from me to her, Sharon had released the shelf with her left hand, and swung in backwards, and up. She swung the shelf in an arc above her head, and brought it down on the man's arm, the edge of the shelf connecting with his forearm. I could heard the bones in his arm crack as the shelf hit him; the gun was knocked from his hand, and clattered on to the ground.

“My arm!” Vince howled, “You fucking b-”

Sharon cut the man's insult off by gripping the shelf in both hands again, and jabbing it forward into his face. The bloody end of the shelf impacted with his mouth, destroying his teeth, and probably breaking his jaw.

Vince staggered back, but not fast enough, as Sharon jabbed out with the end of the shelf again, this time catching him in the forehead, and opening a wound that started pouring blood down over his face.

“No! Fuhg!” gasped Vince, and blood and pieces of teeth spilled from his mouth as he tried to talk.

Sharon raised the shelf up over her right should like an oddly shaped baseball bat, and swung, the metal tab towards her victim. The impact made me cringe, as the tab embedded itself in the side of Vince's skull. Sharon had to yank on the shelf so hard that the man staggered towards her a couple of steps before the shelf pulled free. Sharon showed no signs of exertion on her face, just that same vacant stare.

By this time Cassie had found her footing again, and I don't know if she was trying to help her friend (or if she could even see out of her one remaining eye), or if she just happened to stagger in the wrong direction, but Sharon seemed to sense her coming up from behind.

Sharon swung the shelf around as if it were an extension of her own body, and caught Cassie in the right side of the head with the edge. Cassie made a nauseating gurgling sound, and fell to the ground. Sharon kept swinging the shelf around in an arc, letting the momentum turn her whole body as the shelf sliced through the air. It was beautiful and graceful, like a ballet dancer, or a gymnast, but utterly terrifying at the same time. I could see fine droplets of blood spray off of the end of the shelf as she swung it.

Blood was practically pouring out of the side of Vince's head where the shelf pierced it; is there an artery in there or something? It wasn't stopping him though as he was struggling to stay upright, and move on Sharon.

Sharon continued her turn with the shelf, and caught my attacker right next to his right eye. That was the last straw; I don't know if it was the amount of blood loss he was suffering, or just one blow to the head too many, but he went down hard.

Sharon kept turning back around towards Cassie, raising the shelf up into the air and bringing it down with all of her strength onto Cassie's skull. The impact was so hard that I heard Cassie's skull crack, blood spatter coated the front of Sharon's t-shirt and jeans. The shelf slipped out of Sharon's hands as it rebounded off of Cassie's head, and it crashed to the ground with a hollow clatter.

Cassie's body twitched spasmodically as the brain misfired its final damaged instructions. Sharon paid her no more attention, and instead stepped over to retrieve the shelf, which now had a large dent in the corner where the shelf had made contact with Cassie's skull and the ground beneath it.

Sharon scooped the shelf up in her hands, and stalked over to Vince, who had less than a minute earlier held a gun to my head. She gripped the shelf in both hands, raised it up in front of her face, and drove it down onto the man's head. The she raised it up and did it again.

Over and over Sharon hit the man with the shelf. After the fifth or sixth blow, blood started to splash up, droplets flying off of the shelf as his head collapsed. I remained sitting on the surface of the alley, watching her do this again and again.

I realized then that her face had changed. Her lips were moving, and her eyes showed pain. I got to my feet and came closer to her, close enough that I could barely hear what she was saying between the impacts of the shelf.

In a voice just above a whisper, she was saying “No!” over and over.

“No!”

Crunch

“No!”

Crunch

“No!”

Crunch

The blood was flying up onto her clothes and face, and onto me as I put a hand on her shoulder.

“Sharon?” I asked

“No!”

Crunch

“No!”

Crunch

Vince's head was no longer recognizable as human, her repeated blows had caved the skull in, and mangled the flesh.

“Sharon, it's okay, you can stop now.”

“No!”

Crunch

“No!”

Squelch

I was scared; more scared than when I thought I was going to be shot, more scared than I saw Jimmy with the thermite bomb, even more scared than being trapped in a hallway with a cemetery of zombies. Sharon was broken, and it seemed like she wasn't coming back.

“Sharon, stop!” I yelled.

“No!”

Squelch

“No!”

Squelch

I grabbed her shoulders and shook her. Part of me was afraid that she would turn on me with that shelf, but I needed her to stop or I was going to break too. Better than she kill me than for me to stand there and keep watching her.

“Dammit, stop!”

My shaking her did nothing but cause a couple of her strikes to hit the ground instead of the pile of hamburger that lay at the top of Vince's neck.

“No!”

Clank

“No!”

Squelch

I heard a noise then, and engine approaching. I tried to pull Sharon towards the door, but it was as if she had been riveted to the ground, she wouldn't budge. I couldn't muster up enough strength to move her even an inch. I prayed that it was Gerry and the others coming, although part of me did not want them to see this.

The sound of the engine seemed to snap Sharon out of it. She released the shelf, and it fell over with a clang. She then dropped to her knees into the pool of blood around her victim's head, and started sobbing.

The van rounded the corner, and pulled up about ten feet away from us. Without turning off the engine, Gerry opened the driver's side door, and climbed down as I turned to look at him. I realized that I had gone down to my knees as well, and I had my arms around Sharon, holding her to me as she bawled.

I can only imagine how this must have looked to Gerry. There I was cradling a sobbing Sharon, both of us covered in blood, whilst kneeling in a pool of blood next to a body whose head had been reduced to a literal pulp. A few yards away from us lay a woman who looked like she may have been in a boxing match with Jason Voorhees. Just thinking about it makes me feel quesy.

Gerry took a couple of cautious steps towards us, even in the fading light I could see his eyes moving back and forth between Me and Sharon, and the two dead bodies, “What the fuck, man?” was all he managed to say.

“Help me get her inside,” I said, my voice shaking, “Please!”. I realized that I wasn't just shaking in time with Sharon's sobs, but I was shaking myself. Madness danced at the edge of my thoughts, and for a couple of seconds I think I fully understood what happened to Ash to make him into who he is.

Ash climbed out of the back of the van, shotgun in hand, “Did we miss a party?” he asked, not afraid, but without the usual humor his voice tends to carry.

“Please help me.” I said. I know that I sounded weak when I said it, but I didn't know what else to say. I wanted to get Sharon away from what she had done.

Eventually they did help me get her inside, and Beth and Maria took Sharon into the women's restroom to clean her up, Maria handling her very cautiously. She had a couple of changes of clothes in her backpack, which is good since pretty much everything she was wearing needed to be thrown out.

Unfortunately for me I did not have any clothes in my satchel, which in hindsight was pretty stupid of me. Luckily I didn't get too much crap on me, so I guess I'll just deal with it until I can find somewhere with clothes in my size.

What I really would like right now is a hot shower, but at least I was able to wash up in the sink. I don't know why it is, but the water still works, and I thank God for it. Of course the electric water heater doesn't work, so I had to wash up by candlelight in a cold room with cold water, but it's better than having dried blood and bits of corpse stuck to my face.

When I came out of the restroom, the women were still I theirs. Someone had lit some more candles and placed them on the cash-wrap counter. I found that Gerry had gotten out the butane stove (you know, the kind you see at omelet bars sometimes), and was heating some water on it. He made some of the instant coffee that was in our supplies, and that helped to warm me back up a bit.

I had wrapped myself in a blanket, and was sipping my coffee when the women brought Sharon out of the restroom, now wearing a light blue pair of jeans and a black t-shirt. She was still crying, but silently, and she was back to just staring off into space. Gerry tried to force a cup off coffee into her hand, and she accepted it, drinking it without ever really looking at it or Gerry, but still looking off into whatever it is she sees in the distance.

Just the fact that Sharon was willing to take and drink from the cup is a massive improvement over a couple of days ago. She's started walking around a bit, going to the bathroom and stuff, but she still isn't talking or even acknowledging that any of us are here for the most part.

After her coffee cup was empty, I led Sharon back over to her sleeping bag, tucked her into it, and gave her a kiss on the forehead. She didn't give any response but to close her eyes. I think she went right to sleep, but I can't really be sure.

Once Sharon was settled, I rejoined the group and they wanted me to tell them what had gone on here. I gave them a much less detailed version of what I have written here; trying to emphasize more of the Sharon saving my life and less of the Sharon going dangerously off the rails and beating a man to a bloody pulp.

They also filled me in on what Ash had wanted them to see, which was the police station.

“Remember how I warned you to stay away from the police station last time we met?” Ash asked me.

“Yeah, you said that they were crazier than you.” I replied.

“Well not anymore they aren't,” spoke Gerry.

“They're gone,” said Ash

“Gone like they packed up and left?” I asked.

“No, gone like they're dead,” answered Maria.

“ I first realized it a couple of months ago, “explained Ash, “I was patrolling, looking for deadites, when I realized that one of their roadblocks had been moved. You know how they had blocked all of the roads around them, right?”

“Yeah, I've seen one of them,” I replied

“Well they have those set up all around the station to dissuade people from coming in. It certainly kept the Postmen away, not that they're an issue anymore, eh?” Ash chuckled.

“Anyway, “ Ash continued, “I noticed that one of the roadblocks had been pushed aside enough that someone could drive through it, so I decided to go check it out. Imagine my surprise when I found a couple of dead cops lying on the steps of the police station instead of finding someone trying to shoot me?”

“The attackers had been thorough. Everyone in the station was dead, and all had been head shot to keep them from rising, “Ash explained, “ I looked around a bit, and found that the place had been stripped of weapons and armor. Every handgun, shotgun, rifle, box of ammo, and all of the SWAT and riot gear were gone.”

“So who did that?” I asked, already suspecting the answer.

“We did, “answered Beth, “A couple of months back Kaur sent out a big group of his most loyal officers and a bunch of the newbies, as I do not fall into either category, I was not on that run. Anyway, they came back with a truckload of weapons and supplies.”

“At the time when I asked about where they had found all of this, I was told that they went to the National Guard armory. I accepted that, never really wondering why the National Guard would have police riot armor.” Beth explained.

“You couldn't have just told us that?” I asked.

“It was more fun to show you, well them,” Ash answered with a grin.

“Yeah, he wanted to make sure we saw what Kaur did,” explained Beth a little bitterly, “There were some civilians in there too, probably the families of some of the officers.... There were children in there.”

“Yeah, that was pleasant to see,” added Gerry.

“Hey, if you guys are going to make it now that you're outside of your ivory castle, you need to know what to expect to see out here, “explained Ash, “ Plus you need to know what you are indirectly guilty of before you start making judgments of anyone else.” he looked at Beth as he spoke these final words.

“I stand by my my initial judgment of you. You are insane, insensitive, and an asshole,” stated Beth in an even tone.

“You say those like they are bad things,” Ash laughed.

“You're also arrogant well beyond your years, little boy, and that's going to cost you eventually.”

“There's nothing anyone can take from me except for my life, and we're all going to lose that eventually. Besides, I gave you guys some stuff that might come in handy.”

“Oh?” I asked.

“Yeah, he gave us a couple of the solar chargers that he uses for his chainsaw batteries, and a backup power supply that can be charged up using one of them,” said Maria.

“It can jump start a car, has an air compressor, and you can plug shit into it; it's pretty cool.” added Gerry.

“Too bad it'll probably take a week to fully charge with that little solar mat,” contributed Beth, “Even if we get a sunny enough day for it to do any good.”

“You're welcome!” Ash almost shouted, still smiling, “I didn't want you to go present-less on the first Christmas since the end of the world.”

“Oh yeah, “said Gerry, thinking, “That's today, huh? Thanks, Santa.”

Ash laughed, then yawned, “Well, it's getting late, and I had better be going; don't want to miss the Charlie Brown Christmas special.”

“Do you want something to eat before you go?” offered Gerry, earning him a dirty look from Beth.

“Oh no, “Ash answered quickly, “I don't want to take from whatever supplies you may have. Unless you're planing on leaving town, you're going to find that there's not too much left in the stores. You guys were like a fucking plague, devouring everything in your path.”

“We had a lot of people to feed,” answered Beth.

“It's not a criticism, honey, you guys did what you had to do. If you are planning to stick around Covenant, I would suggest trying some of the more residential areas. Neither you, the Postmen, no the cops ever seemed to really go through there. Just be careful about occupied homes; anyone living there might not take kindly to your stealing, and anyplace that you can get into easily, so can the deadites.”

Ash walked to the door, and Gerry followed, unlocking it for him.

“We're probably not going to see each other again if you guys are planning to leave town,” Ash said as he stood in the open doorway, slightly colder air flowing in around him.

“I think we are, “answered Gerry, “but we haven't talked about it too much yet.”

Ash looked almost a little sad, “Well, good luck to you. Keep your guard up, and never hesitate to act in your own best interests. It may be hard to live with a mistake, but it's a lot harder to live with being killed.”

Ash looked at me, “Or losing more people that you love. I hope your girl gets better. You two make a cute couple.”

“We're not a couple, “ I said, thinking about Tara. Ash's words stung hard. Could I have forced Tara to come?

“Well you should be,” Ash turned and walked out into the dark parking lot. At the edge of the lot, he turned and waved to us before continuing.

I heard him exclaim as he walked out of sight, “Happy Christmas to all, and to all a good night!” He laughed loudly, and disappeared into the gloom.

Thirty-First Entry: A Visit From St. Ash

December 25th

Merry Christmas.

“Are you okay?” was how I was awakened this morning by Beth. I had fallen asleep leaning against the magazine rack in the front window. I hadn't even realized I had fallen asleep. I just closed my eyes, and suddenly Gerry had been replaced by Beth (who is much easier on the eyes, truth be told), and it was daylight. I felt like I was frozen, having been uncovered all night. I hope I don't get sick now.

“Yeah, I guess,” I answered, climbing unsteadily to my feet. My back and knees did a passable impression of a bowl of Rice Krispies as I stood.

“I know we don't know each other very well, but I wanted to say that I'm sorry about Tara.”

That should have made me hurt inside, but I just felt cold. I still feel cold inside, even though I've since warmed up a bit physically. I guess that losing almost everything in your life in one afternoon will do that to you though.

“Thanks, “ I replied, “I'm sorry about Officer Perry.”

Beth smiled a little, “Yeah, Rupert was a good guy. At least it was quick; poor Alex though. I wonder if he was still alive when the... you know.”

Yeah, I did know, before the explosion. I was kind of wondering that too. Would the explosion have actually reached up there? Would it have been big enough to blow up through the floors? Was it quick for Tara when it happened?

When I was very young I wanted to be an architect. Like everything else in my life I did not pursue that though. Maybe if I had at least learned something about architecture I would know how an explosion would effect a building like that. I did not pursue it though, like everything else in my life, I just let it go.

Changing the subject, I asked, “How's Sharon?”

“Practically a vegetable,” Beth thought for a second, “Sorry, that's insensitive. I did check on her before I switched with Gerry a few minutes ago, and she was just lying there with her eyes open, staring at the ceiling. Sorry.”

“S'ok,” I said, “She'll come out of it.”

“You should try and get some real rest. Gerry told me that you sat there all night.”

“When's it my turn to keep watch?” I asked.

“Umm, we were discussing that, “said Beth, clearly trying to choose her words carefully, “and we decided that you wouldn't.”

“What?” I asked.

“Maria thinks you should just keep an eye on Sharon, to put it nicely.”

“You guys don't trust me?”

“No, I'm sure Gerry and Maria trust you plenty, but with everything that's happened they're worried you might not be all there, you know?”

This pissed me off a little bit. I'm not saying that they are wrong, as I don't feel like I am all here; I feel like a lot of me is missing, but that doesn't make me a liability.

“I'm perfectly fine!” I lied.

“If you say so; considering the last twenty four hours, you seem to be doing as well as any of us. I don't see any problem with giving you a shift except that someone does need to watch Sharon.”

“Why? You told me yourself that she's just sitting there staring at the ceiling.”

“But what happens when she stops? She might try and hurt herself, and you and her are good friends, right?”

“We certainly used to be.”

Beth smiled a little, “You almost got yourself killed to help her get coffee and comic books. You obviously care about her a lot.”

“Mangas, not comic books.”

“Whatever. The point is that she is going to need someone, and that someone has to be you. None of the rest of us are as close to her as you are. You need to make sure that she doesn't do anything to put us or herself at risk.”

I was still mad at that, but I really couldn't argue. I've never seen Sharon like this, and I don't know what she might do. I don't want to see anything happen to her; she's the only thing I have left now, so I guess it should be me that protects her.

I was still pissed off at the time though, so I just responded with, “Yeah, whatever.”

I stormed away to the area where people used to fill up gallon sized sodas and get foil wrapped hot dogs that had been under heat lamps for hours. This is where Sharon's sleeping bag was. She was awake, but, as Beth had said, she was just lying there staring off into space with tears running out of her eyes.

I sat down on my sleeping bag next to her, “Sharon?” I asked.

Sharon didn't respond, her eyes didn't so much as move to the sound of my voice.

“It's going to be okay, you know?” I asked, not believing it myself.

Sharon did nothing. I leaned over and kissed her on her cheek, it was wet and salty, “If you want to talk, let me know.”

I climbed into my sleeping bag, and closed my eyes. I lay there for a long time with the events of yesterday running through my mind. I'm not sure when I fell asleep, but the images of yesterday gradually became more vivid, felt more real. I kept seeing Tara sitting there cradling Alex in her arms, telling me to leave, telling me she loved me, telling me she would be right behind me.

I kept seeing her being hit with a wall of flame. Sometimes it's as she runs down the stairs, sometimes she's still with Alex and the blast rips up through the floor. In the worst version she comes into the garage just in time to see us drive away, and then the tanker explodes; in that version had she been maybe five seconds faster she would still be alive.

The dream repeated the same twenty minutes or so of events over and over, each with those slightly different endings. It seemd like I was dreaming for hours and hours. After what was probably the thirteenth cycle, the dream changed. Tara and I were in the same part of the shopping area, and everything was the same as it had been (African Swallow in flames, etc), but everyone else was gone. Alex, the bodies of Rontreal, Milton, and Rupert, even the other bodies that I had seen were all gone.

Tara came over and hugged me. Alex's blood still stained her shirt.

“What is this?” I asked, “What's happening.”

“You're coping.”

“You left me,” I said to her.

“No, honey, you left me,” she replied, smiling, “I told you to, and you listened, and I am glad.”

“Is this real?”

“Real enough for now.”

“Can you give me a straight answer?”

“You're asking the wrong questions,” she replied, looking saddened, “I can tell you straight that I love you.”

“You promised that you would come with us.”

“And I did. I'll always be with you.”

“You're dead though,” I said, confused.

“Am I? Are you sure? Did you see me die?”

“No.”

“So you don't know that I'm dead,” Tara started smiling again, “Still, even if I am, I'll always be with you. If I'm not, well, you had better hang onto my Christmas present, I”m going to want it when I get there.”

Tara turned and started to walk away from me then, heading in the direction of Insert Coin, “Where are you going?” I yelled after her.

“Away.”

“You just said you would always be with me!”

“I will, but that doesn't mean you'll see me there,” she called back, “You need to go back now. Take care of Sharon, and tell her that I'm sorry for how I behaved.”

“Don't go!” I yelled, my voice echoing through the otherwise silent mall, even the flames were burning noiselessly.

“Keep her safe, hon,” Tara called again, “You two could be good together given a chance. She needs you, and you need her right now. Keep her safe.”

I tried to run after her, but my feet were rooted to the shiny floor.

Tara's voice echoed back through the area, “Wake up, sleepyhead, you don't want to sleep all the way through Christmas!”

My eyes shot open then, and I was once again lying on the floor in a sleeping bag looking up at a soda cup dispenser. The store was pretty bright, it was around midday.

I climbed out of my sleeping bag, and checked on Sharon; she had gone back to sleep. I made a mental note to make sure she at least drank some water later, she had been crying for nearly a solid day now it seemed.

I went and found the others, which only really took standing up, as it is a small store, and Maria was standing at the cashier's counter looking at a road map. She saw me, and gave me a quick tense smile.

“Where's Gerry?” I asked.

“Sleeping in back. He stayed up longer than any of us taking the overnight shift,” Maria said, “How are you doing?”

“I'm okay.”

“Really?” she asked with an almost predatory tone to her voice, “I mean if you're upset, that's understandable.”

“I'm fine. I want to take a watch shift.”

“No,” Maria stated flatly.

“Why not?” I asked, trying not to whine.

“Because you're in charge of Sharon until she recovers, if she ever recovers.”

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

“It means that as long as she's going to be a drooling coma patient that she is a danger to all of us. Someone needs to take responsibility for her and make sure that she doesn't hold us back; that she doesn't get us all killed.”

“What the fuck, Maria?”

“I'm serious! If my attention is half on making sure that we don't become zombie food and half on making sure she stays with us, then I won't be working efficiently. If we are all doing it we will end up dead. Either someone needs to be in charge of her, or we leave her behind.“

“We're not leaving her behind, “I said, “How can you even-”

Maria cut me off, “Then I guess you;re in charge of her.”

“So I'm her babysitter?”

“You're her friend, and if you want her to stay with us, then you need to be responsible for her,” stated Maria, obviously getting pissed at me.

“But-”

“No buts! She's your friend.”

“I thought you were her friend too.”

“I like her, she was a sweet girl, but this is about survival not friendship. Do you have a problem with that?”

“A little bit yes,” I said firmly.

“Tough. Look at it on the bright side though, at least you have a shoulder to cry on, “Maria paused for a moment before continuing, “We don't all get a shoulder to cry on.”

“We've got a visitor out here!” called Beth from the front window.

Maria and I left the counter and went to where Beth was standing, gripping her rifle tensely. At the edge of the parking lot was a lone figure dressed in a blue shirt and jeans. A brown leather strap crossed the front of his chest, and a chainsaw was holstered on his hip. In his hands was a double barreled shotgun, and on his face a grin that bordered on madness. It was Ash.

“Holy crap! He's still alive!” stated Maria in astonishment.

“You know that guy?”asked Beth

I nodded, “We met him months ago, when we brought Sharon home after that first attack by the Postmen. He calls himself Ash, like in those movies.”

“Okay,” replied Beth, uncertain.

Ash walked up to the window and tapped on the glass with the barrel of his shotgun, “You guys gonna let me in? It's kind of cold out here,” his eyes twinkled with the same insanity he had when we last saw him.

“Is he safe?” asked Beth.

“He was last time.” I said.

We let Ash in, and the first thing he said was, “Well, it's not much warmer in here either, is it?”

“We didn't pay the bill, so they shut the power off,” answered Maria.

“So who all made it?” asked Ash bluntly.

“Me, Maria, Gerry, Sharon, and this is Beth O'Hara.”

“What about Jimmy?”

“He didn't make it,” answered Maria, not going into detail yet.

“Sorry to hear it,” answered Ash, still smiling, ”If it's any consolation, that whole Mallville thing lasted a lot longer than I thought it would. I Didn't think you guys would even make it into winter there.”

“You're a real positive guy, aren't you?” asked Beth

“Reality ain't exactly positive right now, is it sweetheart?” Ash replied, “So was the big boom an accident or on purpose?”

“That was Jimmy,” Maria answered somberly.

“Wow, well it sure got my attention,” Ash chuckled, “It sent a lot people running from that place too. I have no idea how many of them even made it through the night though. Did you know that the deadites have been taking shelter in buildings? It's like they don't like the cold.”

Beth ignored the question, “So how did you find us in particular?”

“I had a feeling that if you guys, “ Ash pointed at me and Maria as he spoke, “ made I out alive that you would come back here since you had already stayed here before. I saw the vans out back, and saw Gerry at the window last night. I decided that it would be best for my continued survival to come back in the daytime so that you could more easily tell me from one of them.”

“I see you cleaned the rest of the supplies out of here, “ commented Maria.

“I had to stockpile everything I could; you guys were like fucking locusts the way you were clearing things out,” Ash thought for a moment, “You know, it's a shame to think how many things that I could use were in Mallville when it went up.”

I asked my next question with apprehension, “So it was all destroyed then?”

A building that big? No. I'm not sure what the damage is like inside, but the building itself is still standing, well, mostly. One section partially collapsed. Still, I am guessing that whatever led up to the fire created a large body count, so that is not a place I'm going to be going until I am good and desperate for supplies; it must be crawling with deadites by now.”

I looked down at the floor.

“So is someone going to tell me what happened?”

We told Ash about the events of yesterday afternoon, and the events that led up to our departure. He already knew about some events from seeing them from outside, the attack on Halloween and our assault on the Postmen in particular, but we filled him in on the details of those too.

We told him about Kaur's making it seem that the council was killed on Halloween, and about how Alex was trying to challenge Kaur's position as leader. Beth told him (and me, as I had not heard some of the things I had suspected be confirmed before) about Kaur's plans to use his increased security force to ensure loyalty to him, and how some people had in fact been executed for openly defying him.

Beth and I let Maria do most of the talking when describing yesterday. Ash seemed genuinely sorry to hear about Tara, Rupert, and Alex even though he had never met any of them. He gave me a look that said “So you truly understand now” when Maria told about who Tara was to me, and how she didn't make it out with us.

Ash was surprised to hear about Sharon's current condition, “I thought she was stronger than that.”

Beth got angry then, “What the hell is wrong with you? She lost almost everything in her life! She lost the person she loved, saw him shot right in front of her, you insensitive little prick!”

Ash fired back, “Been there and done that, sweetheart. I've got the t-shirt to prove it; it's a limited edition for the ever shrinking number of people still alive.”

“If you call me sweetheart one more time, I am going to shove that chainsaw up your ass!” Beth growled.

“Oooh, feisty. I like that in a chick!” Ash chuckled as Beth's eyes widened in anger, “But what I'm saying is that we have all lost people we love,” he pointed at me, “Sounds like he's in the exact same boat, but you don't see him in a corner drooling on himself waiting some undead monster to come munch on heis brains.”

“What the fuck do you know about it?” asked Beth.

“What do I know about it, honey? How about the fact I had to kill my own mother and sisters? Is that knowing about it enough for you? Oh, but you didn't know that did you? Maybe you should try to learn a little more about me before you start to judge.”

Beth was taken aback, ”I-I'm sorry.”

“Yeah, me too,” Ash replied, his voice edging towards hysteria, “Then there's the fact that while you have all been hiding out in Fort Commerce waiting to kill each other, I've been out here on my own learning what I needed to learn to survive. People who can't cope with losing everything die. I'm not wishing that on Sharon, cuz she seems pretty cool, but if she doesn't have what it takes then she may as well put a bullet in her head now!”

Beth's anger came back in a split second, and before any of us realized what was happening, she had struck out and punched ash in the jaw. The kid stumbled backwards, and went down on his ass, banging the back of his head against the glass door of the store. Luckily he was still holding his shotgun, if it had been in his holster, it probably would have shattered the glass.

Ash shook his head, trying to clear it, and then brought his left hand up to rub the side of his face. He worked his jaw a few times to make sure it still worked properly, and then laughed, “Well, I guess I was right. You are a feisty one.'

Beth just stared at him with her lip curled into a slight snarl.

Ash extended his left arm towards me, and I stepped forward to pull him to his feet, “Thank you much,” he said, “Well, maybe I deserved that, maybe I'm wrong. Maybe if you are willing to fight like that you may survive, if you don't turn on each other that is. “

“What would you know about that?” asked Beth, “You don't care about anything but yourself.”

“It's not that I don't care, honey, I just don't care to be responsible for anyone else. Keeping my own ass alive is a full time job as it is, I can't be keeping an eye on people who may not be keeping a proper eye out for me.”

“I think you should leave,” stated Beth calmly.

“Not yet, I did not just come here to piss you off, or to be neighborly, “explained Ash, “I came by because I wanted to take you to show you something. We can use one of your vans, and you should hide those by the way; not everyone leaving Mallville is going to be willing to just let you keep them.”

“I don't think our going anywhere with you is a good idea,” replied Beth

“Aw come on, you outnumber me. If I tried anything at least one of you would shoot me. Besides, you don't have anything I want. I've got enough food and water to last for a year, and I'm gonna plant myself a little veggie garden on the roof come spring, “explained Ash, “Why would I want to hurt you?”

“So how do you know you can trust us?” Beth asked.

“Well, I don't know about you, babe, but these others I've already met. If they had meant me any harm, they could have tried it then,” Ash replied, and then laughed, “and even if you wanted to, you could never get into my building. You don't know where it is, how it's secured, and there is nothing you could threaten me with to make me tell you.”

“We could kill you.” Beth said softly.

Ash smiled wide, and leaned closer to her, “I'm going to die eventually anyway, we all are. There's no getting out of this; no magic words to restore the world to what it once was. Go ahead, kill me, you still won't get my stuff.”

Beth stepped back from Ash, looking a little afraid. Ash laughed loudly.

“You know, I didn't make noise when you guys were sleeping,” called Gerry as he walked out of the stockroom, his hair sticking up in multiple directions as he rubbed his eyes, “Oh, hey Ash, how's it going?” he asked upon seeing our visitor.

“Still alive, still uninfected, can't ask for much more than that.” Ash replied.

After a bit more discussion, it was decided that they would go with Ash to see what he wanted to show them. I say they as I was to stay behind and keep an eye on Sharon and our stuff, which is pretty much as fun as you would expect keeping watch over a vegetable to be.

I found a copy of “Fantasy & Science Fiction” on the magazine rack, the cover said “Display until April 3rd”. I imagine that if they had known that it would be their last issue they would have made it a bit thicker. I read a couple of the stories out loud to Sharon, and she sat there and cried. It killed a couple of hours at least.

I kind of envy her. I want to cry over Tara, maybe not totally veg out like Sharon has, but cry, and I can't. My eyes start to water, and then the tears just dry up. I think I may be broken inside.

After I got tired of reading I decided to look through my satchel, sort of take stock of what is actually in there. Aside from the small arsenal of handguns and ammo I collected yesterday, this is what I found:

Half a box of unsharpened pencils

A pencil sharpener with the little chamber that catches the wood shavings missing

Two black ballpoint pens with no caps, and a blue retractable with the Apollo Coffee logo on it.

Two packs of Zing Cola gum, one spearmint, one wintermint

A small notebook with something that has long since faded into illegibility on the front page, the rest of it is blank.

Two travel packets of Kleenex

A tube of Chaptex

A “Pokemon Ruby” GBA cartridge

Four of those little swirled peppermints you used to get at restaurants.

A printout of hints for the game Xenosaga

A small first aid kit with no band-aids left in it (so basically just tweezers and a tube of ointment).

Two AA batteries

A wind-up flashlight

A beat up photo of Sharon and I at graduation

A pin that says “Jar Jar Sucks”

A small pair of binoculars in a nylon case fastened with velcro

An unmarked bottle containing ancient Advil that probably expired when Clinton was president

An equally ancient box of DayTyme cold medicine

A blue camping towel with brown stains of my own blood on it

Tara's Christmas present

This journal (obviously)

A Swiss Army knife with the toothpick missing

A coupon for two free ounces of tea at Teatropolis

and a beat up paperback copy of “The Stainless Steel Rat Sings the Blues”

As you can clearly see I am most definitely prepared for the outside world here.

I did a bit of scrounging around the store here, between what we took last time we were here, and what Ash took since then, there is little of any use left, but I got a few things:

Some roadmaps, I don't know where we are going to go, but it's never bad to have maps.

A couple of eyeglass repair kits. I took these mostly for Sharon, but who knows when tiny screwdrivers might be handy?

A package of cable ties I found in the store's office.

Three bungee cords

And a hobo tool (that's what the package called it). It's kind of neat really, it's like a Swiss Army knife, but it has a fork, knife, spoon, bottle opener, and a can opener on it. Plus it splits at the center so the knife and fork can be separated. This is even more useful than a spork.

Of course now my satchel is pretty full, but I hope that we will do any traveling we have to do in the vans, so I shouldn't have to carry it too often.

Finally! I hear noise out back; they must be back finally. I was starting to worry since it is getting dark out now. I'd better go let them in. I wonder what Ash wanted to show them.

Thirtieth Entry: Going Out With A Bang

December 24th

It's all gone

It's all gone

IT'S

ALL

GONE!

I woke up this morning, and everything is normal, and in the space of probably less than an hour it all ended. There's only five of us left, and we're back in the that Snacky Mart where we took refuge so many months ago, and it's freezing cold, and we're alone.

It was supposed to be a nice day. Tara and I had gone down to her storage locker, and retrieved a tacky shiny blue Christmas tree, and a box of holiday ornaments. We were going to decorate the tree and have a nice Christmas Eve together.

I even got her a gift, well, found her a gift. Well Sharon gave it to me for her. In seeing Tara's vast collection of Star Wars stuff, I noticed she did not have the mangas. I also knew that Sharon had acquired some of them during out little “coffee” run (before then, I hadn't even realized they were still in print). As it turned out, she had grabbed all four volumes of “A New Hope”, and she agreed to let me have them. They're still wrapped up in my satchel.

We were in the process of assembling the tacky Tannenbaum when there was a panicked banging at the door. Tara and I didn't move, we just looked at each other. We could hear voices outside, but they were muffled by the door, and we couldn't understand them.

Then one of the voices yelled, “If you're in there, open the fucking door!” It was Alex.

Tara and I rushed to the door, and opened it. Alex was outside looking even paler than usual, and he wasn't alone. With him were Sharon, Gerry, Maria, Milton, and officers Perry and O'Hara. They all looked scared, and they were all armed. Milton had a Browning rifle, the two officers each had MP5s and their standard Glock sidearms, Gerry, Maria, and Alex were carrying an M16 each, and Sharon had nothing but a bright pink backpack. I thought that she was keeping at least a pistol in the bedroom, but I guess not.

“Christmas caroling?” I asked lamely.

“It's happening, and we need to get out of here,” said Alex.

“What's happening?” asked Tara needlessly. I'm sure she knew as well as I did what Alex meant.

“It's fuckin' war, man!” said Milton.

Gerry nodded, “Fighting has broken out in the shopping section, and is spreading through admin.”

“What did you do?” I yelled at Alex.

“I didn't do shit! It happened without me,” replied Alex, “and I knew it would. That's why I wanted to organize a resistance, so that when it happened we would have a chance at actually removing Kaur without massive loss of life.”

“So what do we do?” asked Tara, “Fight?”

“No, “ replied Alex somberly, “We don't have an army, and he does. We run.”

“You asshole!” I yelled, “I knew you were crazy, but I didn't know you were a coward! You started this shit, and now you want to run away?”

“Fuck you! I didn't start this, that fat little Paki bastard did,” he yelled in my face, “And the only reason I'm even alive for you to yell at right now is because Rupe and Beth here came and got me.”

“What do you mean?” asked Tara.

“I mean that Kaur ordered me killed! He's already killed Rosa and Benny. He's taking advantage of this to eliminate anyone who is against him That means you, me, Tara, Sharon, and God only knows how many others.”

“We should get moving, Alex,” said officer Perry.

“Hold on, “ said Tara, and ran down the hall into the bedroom. She came back a minute later with a backpack on her back, and her Glock. I could also see two clips bulging in her jeans pockets.

I grabbed my satchel from its customary place by the door, and rummaged around in it until I came out with my Beretta. I also had three extra clips of ammo in the bag along with other miscellaneous items (like this journal, obviously).

Tara turned to look at her apartment one last time, look at the collection of stuff that she had spent years finding before leaving it behind forever. She bit her lip, but her eyes did not tear up. She turned to face the others, “Okay, lets go.”

“Where are we going?” I asked as Tara locked the door behind her..

“I anticipated having to leave in a hurry,” explained Alex as we started down the hall, “I knew if we didn't build an army of our own, or keep a revolt from happening in the first place, that we would have to leave in a hurry. There are two vans down in the garage level under admin that are stocked with supplies, fueled up, and ready to go provided we make it to them.”

“Won't Kaur have his people guarding them?” I asked.

“If he knew about them I am sure he would, which is exactly why it's a secret, “Alex explained, “I know you think I am insane, but I'm not stupid.”

“There they are!” yelled a woman's voice from the doorway to the stairwell. She was wearing the white polo shirt uniform that almost all of Kaur's newer officers wore. Her blond hair was pulled tight into a ponytail at the back of her head, and she was clutching an MP5.

Two more officers emerged from the stairs; a thin man with a curly jewfro, and a short pudgy guy with stringy black bangs falling into his eyes. Both men were wearing the same uniform as the ponytailed woman. Seeing Perry and O'Hara with us, they seemed unsure what to do.

“The situation is under control. They are our prisoners,” bluffed O'Hara in an authoritative voice.

“But Commander Kaur's orders were to shoot them on sight as enemies of Mallville,” said the man with the jewfro.

“We may be able to get information out of them.” stated Perry.

“Sigler is their leader, we may be able to use him to break their will to fight,” added O'Hara.

“Oh,” said jewfro, lowering his weapon, as did ponytail and black bangs.

“So why do they have guns then?” asked black bangs cocking his head criously.

O'Hara and Perry traded glances, and shrugged, “Because,” started Perry, and then opened fire with his MP5.

The sound was deafening in the enclosed hallway. Bloody wounds stitched a path across the fronts of the clean white shirts worn by the three new officers. They staggered, and then crumpled to the floor, their weapons still unfired.

“That's why,” Perry finished.

Milton rushed forward to the bodies, and struggled to relieve them of their weapons; each had an MP5, a Glock in their holster, and two spare clips for each fitted onto their belts. He had trouble with the straps on the MP5s, and managed to drop his Browning in the process.

“Yeah!” he hooted triumphantly with his armload of weapons, “Now this is what I'm talkin' about!”

“I don't think so!” said Maria. She took the MP5s, all of the ammo for them, two of the Glocks, and all but two of the spare clips for those, “You can keep the pistol if you think you can manage not to shoot your dick off.”

“Or fall down the stairs on it,” chuckled Gerry.

“Now why you gotta be like that, man?” asked Milton as he tucked the handgun into the waistband before going to retrieve his rifle.

Maria gave me, Tara, and Sharon each one of the MP5s, and two clips each .I returned my Beretta to my satchel, along with one of the extra clips; the other I stuffed rather uncomfortably into my pocket. Maria kept one of the Glocks and two clips for herself, while giving the rest to Gerry, who tucked them into the back of his stretch-fit jeans.

“What are we doing?” asked Sharon, looking from the submachine gun in her hand to the three dead security officers.

“What we've been doing since April,” replied Maria. She walked over to the three dead security officers, and shot each one in the head with the pistol, “We're doing what we need to in order survive. If you have a problem with that, you're welcome to stay here and try and talk things out with the next group that comes to kill you.”

“Not now!” cautioned Alex.

We started back down the hallway, and past the stairs without descending. As we walked, we only ran into a few people. It seemed like word of the battle apparently raging on downstairs had not really filtered up here.

“So what actually happened?” asked Tara.

“Kaur cut refugee rations again,” answered Perry, “Just for non-security refugees of course. Security officers still get full rations for themselves and their families.”

“He was still trying to 'encourage' volunteers, “ said O'Hara, emphasizing the word “encourage”.

“Some of the refugees took great exception to this, “continued Perry, “so security was dispatched.”

“Newbs, of course,” added O'Hara.

“They handled things about as badly as they could. Punches were thrown, shots were fired, shots were fired back, Molotov cocktails were thrown, and before you know it, the food court is in flames, and a full scale riot has broken out.”

“I would like to note that I had nothing to do with any of it,” said Alex defensively.

“Short of stirring the pot you mean?” I asked, prompting Sharon to shoot me a dirty look.

“Get off your fucking high horse already,” Alex shouted, ”Yes, I failed, but you know what? I could have left you all to be executed, but I'm not. I'm trying to save all of our lives, and I think I deserve at least a little credit for that.”

Perry continued as if Alex and I had not said anything, “Shortly after the reinforcements were sent in, another order was sent out.”

“A list of names; people supposedly responsible for feeding information to the Postmen, people responsible for starting the riot, and amongst those names were all of you.” explained O'Hara.

“Naturally we started tracking you guys down. We were too late to help Rosa or Benny though. They were murdered in their offices,” said Perry with a hint of defeat in his voice.

I noticed that we had strode past a directory sign next to a stairwell access that indicated that we were in the administration section, or at least that we were three floor above it, “I thought you said the vans were down below admin?” I asked.

“There is too much security down there,” stated Perry, “We're going to go down through the shopping section, and across to the stairs near the door to the park.”

“Isn't that where the riot is?” asked Sharon.

“Yes,” said Alex, “Which means the security down there is not only far too busy to be looking for us, but they would never expect us to go down into the center of it all.”

“Because it's an insane idea,” said Tara, not criticizing, just stating the obvious.

When we were over the shopping section, our security escort stopped at the first stairwell we came to. “Okay,” said Perry, “This is it. We go down to the first floor, and make a run for it.”

We entered the stairwell, and could hear faint sounds of chaos echoing up the stairs. There was also a faint haze of smoke in the air.

“If there's a fire, “ I asked, “Then why aren't the alarms going off?”

“Kaur had them disconnected after Halloween,” explained O'Hara,” It's not like the fire department was going to come and fine us for it.”

As we descended the stairs we heard voices as someone entered the stairs from below; it was more security, “We have to find them,” echoed a man's voice, “Kaur says that they may have some rogue officers with them; traitors.”

“I do believe they are talking about us, Rupert, “ quipped O'Hara in a mock British accent.

We heard footfalls coming up the stairs. It was clearly more than one pair of boots, but with the echoing in the stairwell it was impossible to tell exactly how many.

“Milton,” hissed Maria, “Give me your shotgun.”

“What? Why?”

“Because if you are armed they'll shoot you on sight.”

Milton slid the strap on his Browning down his arm, and handed it reluctantly to Maria's outstretched hand.

“Cover your gun with your shirt and stand there,” ordered Maria, pointing to the landing just below us.

“What if they shoot me anyway?”asked Milton as he pulled his two sizes too large Kings jersey out of his pants.

Maria didn't say anything, she just shrugged.

“They won't, “ assured O'Hara, “They probably won't even realize that you're one of the people on the list. I'm not even sure why you are.”

“That's what I've been saying!”

“Shh!” urged Gerry.

We moved as quietly as possible back up to the next landing, the one that opened onto the fourth floor, and waited. The footfalls on the steps grew louder until we could hear them right below us on the landing to the third floor. Milton stood there on the landing between floors waiting. He started grinning a big nervous gold-toothed grin that let us know he could see them now.

“Freeze!” yelled a gruff man's voice.

“I ain't goin' nowhere” said Milton, putting his hands up and behind his head.

“Identify yourself!” commanded the gruff voice.

“Ummm,” Milton thought for a second, “Uhhh.”

“Identify yourself or we will shoot!”

“I am the terror that quacks in the night?”

“What?” asked a voice with the distinct rasp of a heavy smoker (former heavy smoker now, I would guess).

The three security officers, also refugee recruits judging by their polo shirt uniforms, strode up the stairs into our view. They were so intent on getting Milton that they never looked up behind them to see us standing there.

“Freeze!” ordered Officer Perry.

The three officers spun to find us standing there pointing weapons at them. The big guy in the center with the bald spot on his head was holding an MP5, while the officers flanking him, a pale guy with deep shadows under his eyes, and a hispanic guy with a thick mustache, were both holding M-16s

“Place your guns on the ground, and your hands in the air,” ordered O'Hara. The officers, survivors who were suddenly our enemies, complied cautiously.

“Terror that quacks in the night?” asked Gerry, “Really? That's how you answer that question?”

“I panicked,” answered Milton, “It was the first thing came into my head.”

“You're such a dork!” laughed Gerry.

“A dork that's gonna kick your ass!”

“Well make sure you take off your 'Bolex' first; I wouldn't want you to damage it.”

A minute later, and their weapons had been distributed (and my satchel was suddenly quite heavy from ammo clips and a Glock being stuffed into it), and the officers had been cuffed to the stairwell railing with those heavy duty cable tie cuffs that they carry.

“Commander Kaur's not going to let you get away with this,” spat the gruff voiced man with the bald spot hatefully, “He'll never let people like you destroy what he has built here.”

“Hashmir Kaur didn't build anything,” snarled Alex, “He killed the people who did, and took it for his own.”

“Big words from a man trying to take over by force,” retorted the pale guy, who was the owner of the smoker's voice, “You're the one who started a war! You're the one causing the deaths of all these people.”

“I was trying to avoid this,” said Alex regretfully.

“Kaur's attempts to gain and keep power caused this, “ said Officer O'Hara, “This blood is on his hands.”

I think we could have stood there all day arguing with them, and all things considered, maybe that would have been better, more merciful for us all, but we didn't. We finished our trip down the stairs, leaving the officers to their fate, and emerged into what was once a clean, bright, sterile, and yet still comfortable shopping section.

Words fail me when trying to describe what I saw. Many of the lights were out, either from being disabled or broken, plunging the area into twilight. There were bodies on the ground, both security officers and civilians.

Across from us was African Swallow Outfitters; its windows had been smashed and the interior of the store was in flames. Smoke belched out of the empty window frames, and while the fire sprinklers were putting up a good fight, they seemed to be doing little to stop the inferno. Laying face down in one of the broken display windows, halfway inside the store, and halfway out, was a thin woman's body, and even though I could not see her face, I am certain that it was Parasite. I guess she died trying to protect her store.

In the distance we could hear the popping of gunfire, but none of it was close enough for us to see. In fact, we appeared to be the only living people in the immediate area. Who knew how long that would last though? No doubt that at least some of the dead would be rising again soon.

We could see the doors to the stairwell that would lead us to safety, but we still had to get there. We started across the open floor at a fast pace, stopping suddenly when we heard voices.

There were a pair of black riot armored officers with their backs to us. Both were holding M-16s, but they had failed to hear us over the ambient noise of the popping of gunshots and the crackling of fire. We could have snuck past them if Milton hadn't gotten it into his head that he was John McClane.

Milton raised the MP5 he had been allowed to keep from the security officers in the stairwell, and called out to the officers, “Hey motherfuckers!”

The officers turned in surprise, and brought their weapons up to fire as Milton pulled the trigger. Milton's gun did nothing, there was not even an audible click. He had neglected t check the fire selector to make sure it was set to anything other than “S” for safe.

The officers in their black suits however did not forget to take the safety off of their weapons, and opened fire. Small explosions of blood erupted from the back of Milton's basketball jersey as the bullets tore through him.

Before Milton had even dropped to the ground, Officers Perry and O'Hara along with Maria, Gerry, and Alex started firing back. Only one of the other officers even managed to get any shots off in our direction before being cut down in the hail of bullets. The back of Rupert Perry's head blew off as the result of one of those shots.

“Rupe!” cried O'Hara, as her friend crashed to the ground.

O'Hara knelt down beside her fallen friend, and we were all so busy watching her that we never saw where he came from. Somehow, from somewhere, Alexandre Rontreal had come up behind us. We didn't even know he was there until it was too late.

If Milton hadn't gotten himself killed, or even if he had been shot in the stairwell,, then maybe things would have been okay. Maybe we would have passed through there without running into him. Maybe one of us would have seen him standing there behind that skinny little potted tree. He would have been visible to anyone who cared to look, but none of us did.

Shots rang out, and I swear I felt one buzz past my ear like a wasp traveling at the speed of sound. Alex cried out as one of them struck him in the left shoulder, and another in the stomach. Maria, who was standing next to Alex, had a bullet graze her right arm, but I didn't realize this until later.

Alex clutched his stomach with his right arm, and dropped to his knees as Sharon screamed in horror, “Alex!” her voice was almost shrill enough to shatter glass.

I searched around for the shooter, seeing Rontreal standing behind that tree, grinning. He saw me, and started to turn to run. He didn't make it. I opened fire with my MP5, spraying bullets wildly in Rontreal's direction. Gerry was behind me and to my left, so I didn't see him, but I'm pretty sure it was him that fired too.

I don't know who got him, but Rontreal appeared to trip as multiple bullets slammed into his retreating back. He sprawled forward onto the slick white floor. Without hesitation, and possibly opening myself up to attack from someone else I hadn't seen, I stormed over to him. My emotions had taken over, and I had become the same person who killed Merrit Sokolenko just the other day.

There was no blood on the back of his shirt, and I could see the outline of a bulletproof vest through his shirt. There was however a large amount of blood flowing out of a hole in the back of his leg; probably what brought him down. I would guess that by the amount of blood pouring out that something important had been hit. He probably would have been dead in a couple of minutes anyway, and it probably would have been the painful death he deserved, but I couldn't let him have that death.

He was struggling on the ground, trying to crawl away. He wasn't saying anything, just sort of gasping and grunting. I guess that all those shots to the back knocked the wind out of him. He never looked at me as I approached, I don't know if he even knew I was coming, even when I was standing right next to him.

For the second time in the space of a week, I shot a man in the back of the head . Alexandre Rontreal stopped moving. It was a minute too late to do any good though.

I looked around me, and noticed that Parasite's body was starting to move, slowly crawling the rest of the way out of the flaming remains of African Swallow. She was reanimating, as were a few of the bodies I could see strewn about the shopping area.

I realized that I could hear Sharon sobbing loudly, and rushed back over to the group. O'Hara was still kneeling by Officer Perry's body, and Gerry was with Milton, Maria, Tara, and Sharon were with Alex, who was gritting his teeth to keep from moaning aloud. Tara had propped Alex up against herself so that he was half sitting up.

“We're going to have more company soon.” I said to the group, and then to Alex, “Can you move?”

“I don't think so,” he said through clenched teeth, “You guys need to go on without me.”

“No!” screamed Sharon, “We're not leaving you!”

“I'm sorry hon,” replied Alex, “but you have to. I don't think I'm going to make it.”

“You can't leave me! You promised!”

“I know, I'm sorry. I failed you. I failed all of you.”

“Sharon, I'm sorry, but he's too badly hurt, “explained Maria, putting a hand firmly on Sharon's shoulder.

“Get your hands off of me!” howled Sharon, shoving Maria's hand away; a move which would likely have resulted in a punch in the face at any other time, “Get up now! You're coming with us! We're all leaving together!”

“You need to go without me; I can't go with you,” explained Alex.

“No! Fuck you!” Sharon howled, “If you stay, I stay.”

“ You can't stay, Kaur will kill you,” Alex explained.

“Sharon,” started Tara, “he's-”

“Don't you speak to me!” Sharon hissed, “You just want him for yourself! First you steal my best friend, and now you want my boyfriend too, you scrawny little slut!”

Alex mustered up one of his last reserves of strength, “Goddamnit, Shar! You are going with them! I will not allow you to die because of me.”

“You can't leave me alone!”

“I'm not. I will never leave you, I will always be with you where it counts, but right now you need to leave.”

“I won't!” Sharon's fury drained out her voice with those two words, leaving behind just fear and sorrow.

Alex looked back and forth at the rest of us, a tear rolled out of his left eye as he spoke, “This may be the last thing I ever ask any of you to do; do not let Sharon stay! Get her out of here, now!” I never would have thought I would see the day when tears would escape from the eyes of Alex Sigler, but I did then, and it hurt me to see it.

O'Hara, who had gotten up from the body of her dead friend, and returned to the group, grabbed Sharon's left arm. Gerry grabbed her right arm, and the pair of them started to pull her away without a word.

“No! Let me go! Let me fucking go!” Sharon struggled against their grip, but so much of her energy had already been spent, that she couldn't escape their grasp.

“Goodbye, Sharon, I love you,” Alex said solemnly, “Go, please!”

With pained, but determined looks on their faces, Gerry and O'Hara continued pulling Sharon in the direction we had been heading. She kicked and struggled, but could not get free. Maria followed them, after giving her wounded boss one last look. Leaving just me and Tara behind with him.

“You guys go too,” Alex said, “Keep Sharon safe.”

“You're not going to die alone, Alex,” replied Tara.

I motioned in the direction of where Parasite's corpse was crawling towards us; apparently her legs had been broken before she died, so she was not able to move very fast, “But what about-”

Tara raised the MP5 in her hand, at me. I ducked out of the way as she pulled the trigger; hitting the cold floor hard. I rolled in time to see the zombie in the bloody blue button-up shirt thud to the floor.

“I'm not leaving him to die alone. He is my boss, and my friend, and I love him. You know that,” Tara said, placing the gun on the floor.

“Don't stay for me.” Alex said. Whether he wincing from the pain of his wounds or from Tara firing a gun right next to hit head, I don't know.

“You go.” Tara told me in a voice that was not to be argued with as I got back to my feet.

I argued anyway, “He told us to leave,” my voice sounded whiny, even to myself.

Tara gently lowered Alex's head to the floor, but he still winced, this time clearly from the pain of moving. I could see his blood covering her shirt and jeans as she got up, and walked to me, “I will not leave him. You go with the others, and when it is over I will be right behind you.”

“But, “ I struggled for words, “but, I'm your boyfriend. You can't choose him over me.”

“You are my boyfriend, and I love you more than you know, but I told you not to make me choose.”

“I didn't.”

“No, but someone did.”

“What if something happens to you?”

“Then it happens. If it were Sharon, you would stay no matter what the risk. I know how much you love her; you would never let her die alone. You would never leave her behind. Now please, go,” she didn't hug me, but she gave me a gentle kiss on the lips. Her eyes were cold emotionless icebergs, but her voice and that kiss were the Tara I planned to spend Christmas with. The Tara I was making a new life with. The Tara I loved.

“You promise you'll come?” I asked, not knowing if I could convince the others to stay and wait, especially not if there were more security officers down there waiting for us.

“I promise I'll be right behind you.”

It was so hard; deep inside I knew it was a lie, I knew there's no way she could keep that promise, but I did it, I gave in, “Okay. I love you.”

“I love you too, now go,” there was the chill in her voice again.

I'm not sure how I got there, but I found myself running down the stairs to the garage levels. Outside the stairwell I found two freshly dead security officers lying in pools of blood on the cement floor. Both had been shot in the head to ensure that they did not get back up.

About fifty yards away I saw Maria standing there, clutching an MP5 in her hands, “Where's Tara?” she yelled, her voice echoing in the underground cave.

“She's staying with him until....” I started to say but trailed off as I jogged over to her.

I could see two large white vans sitting there next to each other, their engines idling. Through the windows I could see Gerry and O'Hara behind the steering wheels. Next to the vans was a cement wall, and on the other side I could see the front of a tanker trailer that I knew was full of gasoline for the scavenger and security vehicles. The semi that had once pulled the tanker had been disconnected and stored somewhere else.

“But she is coming?” Maria asked.

“She promised.”

Maria shook her head, “I don't know how long we can wait.”

“Where's Sharon?” I asked.

“She's in the van with Gerry. She stopped fighting halfway down here, and just went limp and started crying,” Maria explained to me, and then almost sadly “We almost all made it.”

I nodded sober agreement, “So we're going to wait for Tara, right?” Was it a selfish question, or just acceptance of the situation? I couldn't really tell you, but probably a bit of both.

“I wouldn't suggest doing that,” came a familiar voice, followed by a mad giggle.

Guns in hand, Maria and I cautiously walked past the front of the vans (while getting curious looks from O'Hara and Gerry). On the other side of the wall, sitting on top of the fuel tank was the source of the voice.

Atop the fuel tanker was Jimmy Chen wearing a smart suit, and clean shaven. If it weren't for the fact that his eyes spoke volumes about madness, I would say he looked better than I've ever seen him. The ceiling in the garage was pretty high in order to accommodate delivery trucks, but his head was practically brushing against it

“Umm, what are you doing up there, Jim?” asked Maria.

“Putting a plan into action.”

“What sort of plan would that be?” I asked.

“Well, I realized a while back that that Ash guy we met was right, Mallville cannot survive.”

I heard one of the van doors open, and someone walk over to us, and then I heard Gerry exclaim from behind me, “Holy shit, Jimmy, what're you doing up there? How did you even get up there?”

The giggling stopped, and was replaced by a snarl, “I used a ladder. I may never run in the Bay to Breakers again, but I'm not a cripple!” then the giggling returned,” and what I'm doing is this.”

Jimmy held up a large can in his left hand that had once contained nacho cheese, but now contained a duct taped bundle.

“That's not... is it?” asked Gerry.

“It's always the same when you cook in larger batches, “chuckled Jimmy, “you end up with leftovers, and it would be a shame to let them go to waste.”

“What are you going to do?” asked Maria.

“I'm going to put an end to all of this, but I know you are good guys, so I'm willing to give you a chance,” he put the cheese can down, and thumped the top of of the fuel tanker with his fist, “This sounds pretty full, you'll probably want to go now before it detonates.”

“This is ridiculous, Jimmy. I'm getting you down from there; you can come with us,” stated Maria.

“I wouldn't do that if I were you,” Jimmy brought up his right hand, in it was a shiny silver Desert Eagle handgun.

“Where did you get that?” I asked.

“It's Hashmir's, he won't be needing it anymore since I put a bullet through his brain with it. He destroyed the only thing I had that was worth living for!”

“Kaur's dead?” asked Gerry.

“Oh most definitely,” Jimmy laughed,” but the others need to go too, Rontreal, Sigler.”

“Rontreal's dead,” I said, not exactly proudly.

“Alex is dying, if he's not dead already,” explained Maria.

“Good! It's people like him that don't make humanity worth saving!”

“So you don't need to do this then?” asked Gerry.

“Oh no, it needs to be done. Mallville in its very concept was an abomination, and it's still full of people like Kaur and Sigler who are too concerned with killing each other to worry about what's important. Well fuck them!”

From the top of the tanker, without ever moving his handgun from our direction, Jimmy produced a small remote control.

“Don't do this, Jim,” pleaded Maria, “You'll die too!”

“I'll be with Sara again!”

“Sara wouldn't want you to do this.”

“Wouldn't she? I'll have to ask her when I see her.”

As Jimmy pressed the button, I remembered that only half of the thermite packs ignited before, so maybe this one wouldn't either. No such luck, first smoke, and then a shower of sparks erupted from the cheese can. The burning metal hit Jimmy, who screamed in pain, and fell over backwards. I heard him thud on the ground on the far side of the tanker.

“Fuck!” yelled Maria, “We need to go now.”

“What about Tara?” I asked in a panic.

“We need to go now!” Maria repeated, “ride with Gerry and Sharon, or stay and die, but we're leaving now!”

Maria and Gerry ran for the vans, Maria jumping into the passenger side of O'Hara's, and Gerry returning to his own. I saw Maria yell something at O'Hara, who put the van in gear, and started driving towards the gate.

I ran back to where Maria and I had been talking, and looked back at the door to the stairwell; praying that Tara would come bursting through that door. That she would run to me, and we would escape with only seconds to spare. I prayed that God would not take her from me.

I guess God had better things to do just then.

“Come one!” Yelled Gerry through the van window at me, “Sharon needs you! We need you! Tara wants you to live!”

I looked from Gerry to the stairs a couple of times, and Gerry started moving the van forwards slowly.

“Seriously, dude, last chance!” Gerry begged, “I don't want to leave you behind, but I'll be damned if this how I die!”

I broke for the van, pulled open the side door, and threw myself into the back as Gerry floored the gas. The tires squealed on the cement as the van went off in the direction that O'Hara had driven. We pulled up right behind the first van just as the gate was rolling up allowing us to escape with our lives.

I sat with Sharon in the first row of seats, she looked vacant, there was nothing behind her eyes, and a seemingly endless river of tears flowing from them. The back of the van, including the row of seats right behind us, was stuffed to the ceiling with supplies and gear, so much so that I couldn't see out the back window. Alex really had planned for this.

O'Hara didn't wait for the gate to finish rolling up, and started forward. The gate wasn't quite far enough up, and scraped against the roof of the van as she passed under it. Gerry followed. The van's engine roared in protest as Gerry tried to make it move faster.

Up the ramp, and out into the parking lot where the rain continued to pour down. Once on flat ground we started to pick up speed, and leave our old lives behind us forever. My home, my job, my girlfriend were all there, and now they are all gone.

I couldn't see the explosion, but I felt it. The ground bucked under the van like we were a crumb someone was trying to remove from a bed sheet by shaking it out. I think the van may have actually left the ground momentarily as Gerry struggled to control it, I could see O'Hara swerving a short ways in front of as a split second later.

Sharon, still just looking off into space, reached over with her right hand, gripped my left, and squeezed hard enough that I thought she was going to break something. I let her. I was too busy gritting my teeth and trying not to cry myself as small pieces of debris rained down on us, pinging off of the van's roof, and littering the ground around us..

I had this horrible image in my head of Tara running down those stairs to meet us, and finding that we had left her. I know that if we waited for her I would not be writing this now, but it doesn't make it any easier to get the image of her being incinerated in the blast out of my head.

“Are you okay?” Gerry asked me, as O'Hara slowed to a more normal driving speed in front of us, and he matched speed.

“No,” I answered honestly in a choked voice.

“I'm sorry, man. I know that doesn't help, but I truly am,” Gerry said, and then added, “for both of you.”

“Thanks,” I replied. Sharon said nothing, only loosed her grip on my hand, and sobbed quietly.

I don't know if it was part of some plan or not, but we ended up back here at the Snacky Mart, which, aside from now being completely stripped of food and drink, is exactly as we left it. O'Hara, Gerry, and Maria went through some of the supplies in the back of the van to find us some sleeping bags and food for the night.

I had a can of cold ravioli for my Christmas Eve dinner. Sharon wouldn't eat, she just sat there staring into space, and crying. I got her to drink some water at least. With Gerry's help, I was able to get her into a sleeping bag where she eventually passed out. She keeps moaning in her sleep though.

I can't sleep myself, but I don't think the others trust me enough right now to stand guard. Beth told me just to take care of Sharon; that that was the best thing I could do for the group right now. I didn't argue.

I can't, or maybe just don't want to, wrap my head around the idea that they are all gone. That it's all gone. No more Mallville. I know it's not the end, not yet, but it's another huge part of the old me that is gone now. My world dies around me, yet somehow I keep living.

No tears; Tara wouldn't want me to cry, and I'm not sure if I can anyway. I need to be strong like she was. I need to keep Sharon safe. I couldn't save Tara, but I will keep Sharon safe somehow. Alex and Tara would want me to.

That's it, that's my day. I'm sure it's after midnight by now, so Merry Christmas, Tara. You promised you'd be right behind me, so I'll just hold onto your gift until you get here. Just please don't take too long, okay?

I'm waiting for you.

I love you.

Twenty Ninth Entry: Zombies Ate My Neighbors

December 20th

I almost lost Tara today. It was only sheer luck that she still alive. That son of a bitch was going to kill her, he was going to...

I'm getting ahead of myself; she's still alive and okay, so let me take things in order.

Kaur made a announcement about our attack on the Hell's Postmen yesterday. He held it on the fountain stage in the center of the shopping area again. This time there was less of militant feel to it. Alex, Tara, Rontreal, Mike and a few others who had led groups during the attack were on the stage with Hashmir as he spoke.

“Citizens of Mallville,” Hashmir began, “I come to you today with good news. One of the great external threats to our survival has been dealt with. The gang known as the Hell's Postmen have been eliminated thanks to the hard work and sacrifice of the men and women of my security force, Alex Sigler's scavenging force, and Michael Clowes' roof patrol force.”

Sharon and I had taken a position as close to the one that we had watched Hashmir's last speech from, only this time we were not afraid of having to make a hasty retreat. Tara and Alex both looked up at us from time to time. I was a little surprised to find Tara smiling as I was sure that she would be in professional mode for this, and her professional smiles are generally not pleasant ones.

“As you all know, “continued Hashmir, “The Hell's Postmen were responsible for the attacks on a number of our scavenging crews as well as an attack on the clean up crew, the attack on Halloween day that breached the walls of our very community, and the attempt on my life with the attack targeted at my office. They cost us the lives of many brave citizens, but no more. Not one more person will fall at the hands of these destoryer”

“We cannot rest now that we have eliminated this threat, however, for we must remain ever vigilant against other attacks. I refer not just to the undead that daily come to storm our sanctuary, or even to other outside humans who would try to take our home from us, but to internal forces who would rot us out from the inside like an infected tooth.”

I could swear that Kaur looked towards Alex and Tara as he spoke again, “There are people amongst us, people watching me speak right here and right now who would destabilize the strong community we have all worked so hard to create. If we let these people have their way, then the work and sacrifice we have made so far has all been for nothing.”

Alex and Tara's expression's changed. Even Mike was looking at Hashmir questioningly now, “It is only with absolute loyalty and determination that we can continue to survive, and so I remind you that it is your duty, and in your best interests, to report any malcontents to security so that any threat they may pose can be addressed.”

And with that the air of cooperation and teamwork ceased to exist. The rest of the thirty minute speech was not about the operation to eliminate the bikers at all, but about being loyal to Mallville, Hashmir's Mallville. You could feel the mood of the crowd shifting as people were once again choosing sides. In the space of a few minutes he managed to undo the progress and goodwill that had been created by his actually working with Alex.

It was after that was over that Tara almost died, and you may be amazed to know that Hashmir Kaur had absolutely nothing to do with it. It also answered a question I've been writing about for weeks.

After the speech, Tara and I went back to her apartment (I was in no mood to listen to Alex rage more about Kaur, Sharon's his girlfriend; that is her job). This didn't mean that I would not have to still listen to Tara do a bit of raging (which as her boyfriend is my job), but hers tends to be a little more, what's the word? Oh, yes, sane, as well as a little less profane than her boss'.

Tara talked about packing a bag and keeping it by the door in case we have to leave quickly. I pointed out to her that if we are in the apartment when the security force comes for us, we wouldn't be able to escape, and that if we are somewhere that we could realistically escape from (not that escaping looks very promising anyway), we would not be near the apartment to come get the bag. She gave me a frosty look for that, but it was quickly replaced by an extremely weary one which made her look much older than she is.

I don't like seeing Tara like that. She so rarely ever drops what must be almost all of her defenses that it almost seems like she's ready to give up when she does. Still, I must look pretty hopeless most of the time, so who knows what she thinks of that.

We decided to lay down for a bit, and both quickly fell asleep. I dreamed about the attack on the Postmen, and while I couldn't call it a good dream, at least it did not involve me killing Tara, Sharon, or anyone else I care about. At this point any dream that does not end in me waking up gasping for breath is good enough for me.

I wasn't asleep for more than an hour or two, as it was still light out when I woke up. What did surprise me when I woke up was that I was alone; Tara was gone. I sat up and called out to her; I got no reply.

I got off of the bed, quietly went around it to her side, and opened her nightstand drawer. Her Glock was sitting on top of the jumble of pens, sudoku books, hand creams, and other miscellanea that filled the drawer. I took the gun, and closed everything else back in the drawer.

I know that it's stupid, but the first thing I did was check the closet. For a second I really believed that a zombie would jump out at me when I opened the door, but the only things I found in there were Tara's clothes. I almost shot them anyway, just out of expectation.

“Tara!” I called out again, and still got no reply. She wasn't in the bathroom, or the game room. She wasn't in the living room or the kitchen, but the front door was sitting open. I stuck my head out the door where that smell once again assailed me, and looked up and down the hallway, but I saw nothing.

I crossed the hallway and knocked on Hans' door. After a few seconds, I heard it unlock, and his wrinkled face appeared in the gap between the door and the frame as he opened it, “Oh,” he commented in his German accent, “It's you! How can I help you, young man?”

“Have you seen Tara, my girlfriend?”

“ I know who Miss Lafferty is, I have not gone senile yet,” he said, clearly meaning to be funny, “But no, I have not seen her. I heard some noise out here in the hallway about ten minutes ago, but when I looked, there was no one out here.”

I guess it was at this point that Hans noticed the handgun clutched in my right hand, “Has something happened?” he asked?

I followed his eyes down to the gun, and realized that I must look insane, “Umm, I don't know, “ I said, “It's probably nothing to be worried about.”

“Then why the gun?”

“Better safe than sorry?” I answered his question with a question, “I need to go look for her, thanks Mr. Gruber.”

“I've told you, call me Hans, and let me know if she's okay; she's such a nice girl.”

After leaving Hans behind, I started knocking on other doors. I didn't get answers at some, but I didn't hear any noise inside of those apartments either. The doors I did get answers at hadn't seen her.

The last door I knocked on was two doors down from Tara's. I had met the guy who lived there a couple of times, his name was Merrit Sokolenko. Tara had told me that he had a wife named Heidi, but I had never met her (or rather, I had once without knowing it was her).

Merrit opened the door only wide enough to stick his pale haggard looking face through, but not wide enough that I could see past him, “Yeah?” he asked.

“Have you see Tara Lafferty? She lives a couple of doors down.”

“Yeah, I've seen her, but not today.”

“Oh,” I replied, “Because she left without telling me, and she left the door open, and what with all of the disappearances around here lately....”

“I can see why you'd be worried, but I ain't seen her,” He pulled his head back, and looked at something in the apartment behind him. When he stuck his face back into the gap he said, “If you'll excuse me, I'm a little busy.”

“Right,” I said, rather dejectedly, “I'm sure you-”

A loud crash came from behind him in the apartment. He jerked his head back again, and looked.

“What was that?” I asked.

“Uhm, just the wife, she can be a bit clumsy,” sounding about as convincing as a child standing over a broken cookie jar and claiming he knows nothing about it.

“Is she okay?”

Yeah, she's fine, just knocked over a table-”

Another crash, and what sounded like a muffled voice. Merritt tried to slam the door shut, but I stuck my right foot in it. Unfortunately I had forgotten that I was only wearing socks, so it hurt like hell, but it kept the door open.

“What are you doin'?” Merrit asked.

“Let me see what's going on in there, “I demanded.

“Fuck off, man! Go find your girl,” The pain as he tried to shut the door with my foot still in it shot through me, but I just shoved back. I think the pain from my foot may have actually made me stronger, it was either that or the fear. The door practically flew open, and sent Merrit staggering backwards into his living room.

It was then that I realized that the smell of rot was stronger in his apartment than outside. The smell was coming from there. The apartment was a completely different layout from Tara's or mine. It looked to be another one bedroom layout with the kitchen along the inner wall to my left, and two other doors on the wall. The door nearer to me must have been the bathroom because the one closest to the outer wall was the bedroom door.

I moved into the apartment, and saw what had caused the noise. A tower shelf full of knickknacks between the bedroom and bathroom doors had been knocked over, and its contents were scattered across the floor. This was the third thing I actually noticed though.

The first thing that caught my attention was the blond haired woman in the filthy once pink nightgown. The front of the nightgown was smeared with dried blood, and her skin was a pale sickly gray. She had a filthy bandage on her right arm, and a thick rope tied around her waist, and leading back into the bedroom. The zombified woman was straining against the rope to get at the second thing I noticed.

Tara was wriggling on the carpet which had once been beige, but in many places was now stained and streaked with dried blood. Her legs had been duct taped together, her hands were taped behind her back, and a piece of blood spattered tape covered her mouth. Blood covered her face from a cut on her scalp, and she was trying to wriggle away from the struggling zed, and looking like a fish out of water.

Tara saw me enter the room, and looked me in the eyes as she struggled. Her eyes were a mix of terror, and rage; there was no panic in those eyes, no loss of control. Her eyes spoke of fear and murder to me across the rancid smelling apartment.

It turns out that Merritt had come to Tara's door asking her to help him, that his wife was hurt (which wasn't really a lie, I guess). Tara of course went to help, and as soon as she was in the apartment he hit her over the head with something, knocking her to the floor. Before she could get up, he hit her again, and the next thing she was aware of was him placing a piece of tape over her mouth so that she could not scream.

When I knocked on the door, Merritt was just about to throw the woman I love to his undead wife. Not being the type to let a chance get by her, Tara struggled enough from her place on the floor to first knock the tower shelf against the wall, knocking things off of it, and causing the first crash I had heard. She then managed to knock it over completely; that's where I cam in.

“What the fuck is this?” I asked stupidly.

Merrit had regained his feet, and put his hand forcefully on my shoulder as he spoke, “She's my wife.” Was all he said; all he had time to say.

I turned faster than I would have thought possible for me, intending to punch him in his weary face, but I forgot that I was still holding the handgun. His arm was pulled back to punch me, and tears were running from his eyes. In the second before the side of the handgun connected with his head I was able to read his eyes.

I don't know if I've mentioned it before, and it's certainly not an idea I came up with, but I have always believed the eyes are truly the window to the soul. His eyes spoke of fear, sorrow, and love. I suppose that he was doing what he was doing out of some misdirected love for his wife, and I'm sure he's not the only one to have done it since the world ended, but I could also see that deep down he knew that the ghoul in his bedroom was not his Heidi, not anymore.

I slammed the side of the Glock into his face, and he went staggering backwards into the half open front door. The door swung shut from his collision with it, and he slid down the inside of it to the floor in a daze. In that moment, I realized that I had been blaming Hashmir for some shit he really hadn't done.

All the disappearances around the 'Ville? Well they obviously weren't all Kaur's secret police. Some of them, certainly Mrs. Dwonch and her baby, became food for Merritt's wife. I recognized her; we had seen her on Halloween She had been the woman with the paper pumpkins. She must have been bit by the zeds following us before she could get somewhere safer.

Of course Merrit knew that if he took her to the med center, she would be killed and destroyed, so he didn't. Merritt Sokolenko stayed with his wife, and over the days or weeks (however long it takes) he watched her get sicker and sicker, and finally die and turn into one of the undead. I cannot even imagine what that must have been like for him.

I rushed across the room to Tara, and dragged her farther away from the thrashing Heidi Sokolenko. The zed was pulling hard enough on her rope to cut off air to a living person, but Merritt had tied her to a wall stud (I saw the hole in the drywall after it was all over), probably right before she died, and it was holding.

I tore the tape from Tara's mouth, “Ow!” she hissed, and then in a breathless voice, “He was going to feed me to her! He killed Mrs. Dwonch! He's been feeding people to her for weeks!”

Merritt slowly got to his feet again, “You don't understand man, she's my wife.”

“And this is my girlfriend!” I spat. I pointed the Glock at Heidi, as she struggled at the end of her rope.

I pulled the trigger on the Glock twice, and at this close a range I almost didn't even have to look to hit the ghoul in the head. The back of her head burst open, and she tried to collapse forward, but being at the edge of the tether, she kind of fell sideways in the doorway. Heidi's feet slid out from under her, and she fell to the carpet, still at last.

“Heidi!” Merritt screamed, “No!”

Merrit turned red, all signs of the weariness that had been on his face vanished, and bloodthirsty rage replaced it.

“Motherfucker!” he bellowed, and charged.

Without even thinking, I aimed the gun at him, and fired before he had even gone three steps, less than halfway across the room. I shot him four times before I even knew what I was doing. Two bullets tore into his chest, one into his throat, and the last through his left eye. His momentum carried him forward, and he landed on the spindly wooden coffee table in front of an IKEA looking couch with blue flowers on it. The table collapsed under his impact, and he lay still.

I walked over to Merritt's corpse, and shot him in the back of the skull, just to make sure he stayed dead. As his blood flowed out, staining bits of carpet that had not been stained yet, I realized that I had just murdered a man. I stood there over his body as the idea of what I had done solidified in my head.

It wasn't until a voice spoke from the door that I moved from my spot over Merritt's corpse, still pointing the gun at him, “Hello?” called an older German-accented voice from the hallway, it was Hans, “Is everything in here? I heard gunsh...” his voice trailed off as he saw the room.

I can imagine how it must have looked to Hans; there I was standing over a dead man, another dead body visible in the doorway to the bedroom, and Tara bound up on the floor. Not only all of this, but in an apartment that smelled of death, and had dried (and fresh now) bloodstains all over the carpet. It must have looked like something out of a horror film, and I guess it kind of was.

“Are,” Hans started cautiously, “Are you okay?

“I don't think so,” I replied, my voice sounding dull to my own ears.

“Get security, Mr. Gruber, “ called Tara from the floor in her all business no emotion voice.

“I think I had better, yes.” agreed Hans, not admonishing Tara for being formal this time. Hans disappeared from the door.

“Are you going to help me, or just leave me here all day?” Tara asked, a tad impatiently.

I looked over at her, into her cold blue eyes, but did nothing.

“Come on!” she urged.

“I just killed him.” I motioned towards Merritt's body with the gun.

“I'm glad you did, he was trying to kill me!” she replied, struggling against the tape binding her hands behind her back, “Now can you please help me?”

I looked at her for a few more seconds before tucking the Glock into the waistband of my jeans, and going over to Tara. I helped her get to her feet, and guided her to one of the chairs at the small dining table by the window. I then crossed the living room to go the kitchen, looking down at first Heidi's body, and then Merrit's as I passed them.

The sink was piled with dirty dishes, and there was more dried blood on the floor. I started pulling open drawers, and on the third try I found a drawer with a jumble of steak knives in it. I grabbed one of them.

I went back to Tara, and cut the tape that was holding her wrists together. Once her hands were free, she snatched the knife from my hand. She steadied herself against me to keep from falling forward out of the chair, and leaned down to cut the tape off of her ankles.

I must have still looked dazed, I certainly felt numb, “What?” she asked.

“I killed a man.”

“You helped kill a hundred or so people the other day, so what?”

I tried to speak, but no words came. I wanted to say that I did not know those people, but I didn't really know the Sokolenkos either. I wanted to say that they were bad people, but what do you call someone who murders people and feeds them to the undead? Even if the undead in question was their wife, that's still pretty fucked up. I wanted to say I had never killed someone so close up; seen someone killed so close, sure, but never pulled the trigger myself. All of these thoughts seemed stupid and weak, and they seem even more so as I write this.

Tara gripped my shoulders, “You saved my life, hon,” she looked into my eyes, and in the miniature glaciers that are here eyes I saw a mixture of fear, rage, and disgust, but also gratitude and love.” If you hadn't knocked on the door when you did, or even if you had knocked a minute later, I would be dead by now.”

“I know, and if something happened to you-”

“But nothing did,” she cut me off, “because of you. You are my hero.”

Tara smiled at me, it was a cold smile, but it was still a smile. She leaned forward and kissed me; our foreheads touched, and she pulled back suddenly, and grabbed the sides of her head with her hands, and groaned. I could feel wetness on my forehead from the blood leaking down hers.

I gently urged Tara back down into the chair she had been in; The couch would probably have been more comfortable, but then she would be right by Merritt's body. As she rubbed her wrists (which were already starting to darken into bracelets of purple bruise) I went over to the bedroom.

I nudged Heidi's head with my sock covered foot, but she did not react so I looked into the room. It was dimly lit, with just a little light filtering through the curtains, but it was enough to see.

The bedroom was a nightmare, and smelled worse than anything I have ever smelled. Aside from the general disorder of the room, missing bedding, overturned nightstands, that sort of thing, the room was unevenly painted with what looked to be black in this light, but was almost certainly dried blood.

The floor was littered with the contents of the room's drawers and closet, but also with bones, some still with rotting flesh on them. I don't want know exactly how many people he killed, let alone how he managed to get them all here without being noticed. I'm sure someone will answer the first question, but we'll never know the second now.

On the left side of the bed a large ragged hole had been cut into the drywall, and the rope around Heidi's waist led to a thick stud in the wall. Not wearing any shoes, and really not wanting to step on the filth and piece of bones littering the carpet, I did not take a closer look.

I don't know how long I stood there staring into the Sokolenko bedroom, but it was the arrival of security that got me to move. Four riot armored officers burst into the apartment, sweeping the room with their MP5s. One of the officer rushed across the room to cover Tara, while another rushed to me, and threw me up against the wall. He took Tara's Glock from me before letting me go.

A lot of what happened next is kind of a blur to me. I know that Rontreal showed up at some point, and interviewed us both. He asked us if we still thought the idea of threats within the walls of Mallville were some sort of joke. I told him that I never questioned that there were threats, only who those threats actually were. Asshole.

We were then hustled off to the med center for thorough examinations. The cleaned Tara up, and closed the quite large gash on her forehead with a stapler that reminded me a plush tagger.

Alex and Sharon showed up while we were at the med center, and we had to tell them what happened. They were both glad that we were okay, and Sharon gave us both hugs (although maybe a little more gingerly to Tara, who still had blood from her head wound on her t-shirt.

After being satisfied that neither of has had been bitten, they told us to come back in three days for another check-up. I think this is really more for Tara than for me, since I didn't actually have any wounds (my foot wasn't even broken or anything); they want to make sure she's not infected. I'm not sure how they can really check though, since no one knows what it is to begin with. I guess if she starts getting pale or something maybe.

It was late when we got home, after eight and we went to bed after showering (Tara was upset that she could not wash her hair because of the staples). Even though we hadn't eaten since lunch, I wasn't hungry, and Tara didn't say anything about being hungry.

As we lie in bed, listening to the rain outside, Tara started to cry.

“What's wrong?” I asked.

“I almost died today,” she said softly.

“I know.”

“Even when those fuckers were shooting rockets at us, even when we were surrounded by those zeds downstairs, I wasn't as scared as I was today,”

“It's okay now,” I tried to calm her.

“It's not,” she replied, “I was helpless; I let him make me helpless.”

“He hit you from behind.”

“He tricked me, goddammit!” She wailed, “He made me weak! You had to come and save me, because I couldn't take care of myself!”

I struggled for something to say; I know there was nothing I could have said that would make things all better, but I wanted to at least try and lessen her pain.

“You saved yourself,” I finally came up with.

“No I didn't.”

“Yes, if you hadn't knocked over that shelf, I wouldn't have known you were there. I would have just kept looking, and Merritt would have kept on killing people. Who knows how many lives you saved today.”

“But I was weak.”

“You sure didn't seem weak to me,” I replied.

“I felt weak.”

Neither of us spoke for a long time after that, but she slowly stopped crying. I thought she had gone to sleep, but she spoke again,” Thank you,” her voice was sleepy, “I love you.”

“I love you too.”

Shortly after that, she started snoring softly. I lay there holding her for awhile until she rolled over, but I couldn't sleep. I got up, and went out to the living room, where I am now, to write all of this down, and think in my usual self-indulgent way.


What is on my mind tonight, other than just the events of the day, is me. Who am I? I re-read my first entries in this journal just a few months ago, and I don't think I am that person anymore. That person could never have just shot a man in the face like I did today.

What happened to me? I am not the person who cos-played as Mr. Kimura. I am not the cashier at Insert Coin. I am not the person who fell in love with Sharon so many years ago. I'm not sure I'm even still the person who fell in love with Tara. I am something more, but not necessarily something better. A fighter? Maybe. A killer? Certainly. Someone other people depend on? Hopefully I'll never be in a position where people need to depend on me.

I may not have been shot or eaten, but the me I was is dead all the same. I haven't changed my name and started wielding a chainsaw like Ash, but I'm someone else all the same. I am sad about this, but the old me could never survive in this world, and that's why he is gone. He died, just the same as Bud; I guess that means that in my own way I'm just as much a zombie as the shamblers.

I cannot think like that. I cannot be weak. I must be like Tara. I must be strong when it counts. If I fail my friends, then I will have nothing. They are all that I truly have.