Last Dawn of a Horde - Chapter Four: The Outside World 1 of 2

 

LAST DAWN OF A HORDE

Chapter Four: The Outside World

1 of 2

~James~

            I nudged my best friend. “Come on, esprein. We have escapaded here just to be cornered by these monsters?”

            John didn’t laugh; I sensed he was further in being serious.

            The water was still knee-high, and as the current trickled past us, we stood still together. John was still standing still as if he’s absorbing everything he can. As for me, I really don’t hear anything than the rumble of stinky waters and the quiet pleading of noses to get out of here.

            Our flashlights lighted our ways, but I knew they were not enough. The whole place was dark, but I’m wondering…

            Imagine this: You were placed in a really large pipe, water with not-so-nice sediments continued to flow, and on every sides of the largest pipe came holes that were surely branches of the sewers. I try not to look skywards, as smelly liquid still drops on our shoulders. That’s how the place looks like. Now you’ll list the city’s sewers as one of the places you’ll choose Death for.

            John looked so sure about the zombies. Who knew if they can smell? I don't care anymore. Who would, anyway. I exchanged looks with my other classmates—Rich held his gun tight in his hands, and the girls grasped their knives close to themselves, as if that’s the only thing they’ll hold on to.

            “John,” I whispered, as if I had completely believed him. “Are you sure they’re here?”

            John nodded nervously. “I think we need to come up again soon,” he said softly, “let’s think about navigating through these sewers.”

            All of us agreed, as some of us were eager to leave the underground plumbing system—the idea that should’ve been our way out of the school. The next idea of returning to the school to reunite and plan some things wasn’t a good thing to hear either—I fear our mates that we have left to die are waiting for us outside.

            Den squeaked. “Come on, what are we waiting for? Let’s leave now.”

            Den had the worst claustrophobic experience from us. Once when she was seven, the elevator she and her family were riding had a technical problem, and the elevator freight crashed down to the ground floor when they were still at the fifth floor. It was high enough, and it almost killed them all, but gladly, they got no more than a bruise on their faces each.

            Andrea was the next to complain. “Come on! I can feel rats swimming through here!”

            I felt that too—when you are walking through knee-deep waters and you really feel something was going with the flow—something was wriggling on the waters.

            After several minutes of doing nothing, John said, “Come on, we’ll go on.”

            Our locked arms released themselves, and John had led the way. No one of us had actually trekked here before, (must have been weird if one of us did so,) but John was walking with confidence on his stony face. He looked like he really knew something.

            “Guys,” John called. We all looked at him. “Just don’t look on the dark holes,” he said. “Those damn zombies will react to light.”

            “What time is it anyway?” Suzanne asked.

            “Three thirty,” Jimmy answered as he pressed a finger on his watch. It lighted green, and he gave a nod.

            “Will the light reach us here?” Sophie worriedly asked John.

            “No,” John said. “But if you do see light from the holes, alert everyone. Light from outside can be a good thing.”

            We all understood what he meant. Dawn was coming, only four hours ahead or so. We’re not placed on the star section for nothing, and when John had said light from outside can be a good thing, he meant the outside world. One thing I knew from our Social Studies subject is that all sewers must lead outside or facilities. Who knew those imperative lessons about building structures really had a use?

            We kept walking with one of our hands holding a deadly weapon the school can sue us for bringing on a normal day, and the free hands were used to pull our pants and skirts up just to avoid them from soaking up yucky water.

            But I think it will make no difference—the skirts of female students that were used to be blue and tidy were now drenched in something that made the clothing turn violet. It was the color of blood. We boys have no problem on pants since they were jet black, but our white uniforms didn’t survive the grime.

            From what I had remembered, we already passed about seven pairs of opposite holes—so there’s fourteen. I'm not sure what of use counting holes will be. About ten minutes had passed, and the sewer seems like an endless, foul-smelling walk. It’s not that the side holes were actually huge and dark, but it was such because the holes were meters apart.

            None of us looked so happy about being here. Being alive still, a big yes. Actually, I’ve never seen some of my classmates together before, like Den and Suzanne. I don’t know what happened between them in their past, but I’ve never seen them interact with each other until now.

            I turned again to John. Pity flooded in me. I haven’t seen him have some sleep, but his eyes didn’t look like it—it was as if he’s just about to start his day. I raced to walk beside him, and I stayed quiet.

            He began to talk. “What’s up?”

            I smiled. “Jus’ fine. I want to dance that Gangnam Style again once we—make it out alive.”

            John chuckled, and so does the others. We liked that silly dance we used to folly around with until…well, until the plague started.

            “Yeah, we’ll make it out alive,” he said positively. “You want to bet?”

            I pulled my pants higher up my thighs. The water seems to rise. “Bet what?”

            He kept a chortle to himself, as if he’s thinking of something funny.

            “That the others are alive,” John said, smiling.

            One fact about my best friend—he never lost bets before. If he challenged me to one, I just say yes and utterly knew he’ll win the bet.

            I tried to keep upbeat and hopeful. “Well, we can’t say.”

            John turned away, and he turned his torch almost on every hole we can see. Sometimes we get to see the linings of the walls. They were full of clumps of green mosses.

            Possibilities of the infected here wasn’t that slim. Almost for twenty-four hours, they had barely spread themselves. They don’t smell, perhaps, and they will surely not be bothered to go down here with cockroaches and rats.

            And then one hopeful moment, one of us chided, “Guys! Look!”

            All flashlights had shone upon Andrea. The light on her face made the dark circles under her eyes prominent, and she immediately turned her face away. We all looked to where she was pointing, and I can say I can hardly describe how happy some of us were—especially the girls.

            All of our other classmates rushed by the light, which was near under one of the branched pipes. Faint morning light filtered upon the slimy grills, but my classmates got the opportunity.

            I turned to John. Instead of being happy for seeing this, he frowned as if we’re all going to die real soon.

            He kept turning his head around, like he had a stiff neck or something. I try to make out what he was seeing, but I really saw nothing. From the darkness beyond, I dared not to flash my light. But mind you, even though it was pitch-black under here, you can really feel if there was something moving beyond. I mean the rats—you can’t just ignore them.

            My heart skipped a beat, and I turn again to my classmates. They weren’t making noises, but they were all figuring out how to reach and see on the grills—probably we are already out of the school, and we were wandering under the street roads which had holes on the gutters.

            John kept his head sternly, while I try to walk slowly towards our classmates.

            And then before I can take my fifth step away, John took my wrist.

            “Stop,” he whispered. “Call them and we’ll go way around!”

            It was too soft I can barely hear it.

            I just heard the part Call them, and I understood it immediately.

            With one careful glance on the darkness before us, I see John was right—the dead is coming, but probably just shaken off a bit to notice us. My heart pounded like boom, boom, boom.

            I can really see something was approaching.

            My classmates saw me, and they pointed their lights at me. I shield my free hand as I complain to take the lights off me.

            Suzanne said, "Hey John! Look! We can escape, I think."

            John, still not moving from his stand, made his head shake slowly as his index finger went to his lips vertically. Sssshhh.

            "Come on, guys, let's go away from them!" I said, trying to be discreet and soft. I feel in my chest my heart was pounding so hard.

            The boys used Rich for steps, and Jim stood on Rich's back. From the darkness, I can see Rich was grimacing and was sweating hard.

            "No, no, let's go," I said. Then I found myself pulling the girls by their wrists one by one. "They're here!"

            That wasn't too loud, but it shook them. Jimmy took his eyes away from the grills, and they were all looking obnoxiously at me as if I'm just making an excuse.

            Groans and moans were growing louder, as if they were probably getting near.

            "We'll go," John ordered us. It left me holding Den and Andrea's wrists absentmindedly.

            From his bent position, Rich had suddenly stood up straight, making Jimmy fall straight into the thick, smelly waters head-first.

            The faint light filtered from the world above us, but I can see Rich was turning scarlet. Jimmy rose, spewing dirty (extremely dirty) water.

            "Come on!" Rich bellowed to John, straight to his face. "We need to get out of here, and this maybe the last sight we can get from the world up above!"

            We all turned quiet. And the distant groans stopped as well.

            John didn't answer, but he didn't look mad, either. He just turned his head down, and after three seconds, he faced us again and said, "I have a family to live for, and if you want to live, we'll go away from here now."

            Rich breathed heavily, and took his eyes away from John.

            When everything seems clear, John turned his back and acted like he was ready to go.

            Den released her own wrist from my grip, and marched angrily to John. No, she was marching away from us.

            "What the hell is wrong with you, people?" Den asked, her brows furrowing. She was already on the main pipe while we are still on the branched pipe.

            I try to tell her Yeah, no need to be mad, we'll really fix this, but before a word escaped my lips, a groaning dark figure darted towards Den. I can hear delight in its moans.

            A scream loomed around, and it was followed by a chorused, scary screeches from the undead coming for us.

~John~

            I was too slow to react.

            But I was very thankful James was there to act for me. With a high, commanding voice, he yelled out with his might: "Run!"

            I was too sluggish to take my feet moving. Rich, even though he had been mad (that's what I think,) at me, he pushed me to life.

            I can't believe I was hearing my friend, Den, scream so hard and loud it curdled my blood, turning it into cold ice. After being with her for so many times of life's damn challenges, now I was actually hearing her die.

            Panic started and hell broke loose. I was speaking of it like it never happened before. How many times we were avoiding Death, but when we come across it, I can always say I'm not ready to see any more of us die. A natural death, maybe yes.

            We skirted through the waters as we no longer notice the abhorrent thoughts clouding our minds. I thank the adrenaline that was working on me now—it kept me on my feet.

            The undead tried to come after us as fast as they can, but when I had turned my light on them, they can't walk as fast as us on water. They were shrieking hungrily, and on the part where Den landed stood dozens of them—eating her.

            James pulled me by my arm, and I hardly followed. My eyes are so droopy they want to close now, but adrenaline kept me going. Now we're going down—three of us now dead. The fact didn't make me any more furious than ever.

            The endless sewer seems to lighten up. From small holes on the ceiling and everywhere, feeble lights filtered, and I shout out, "Turn the lights off! It's already morning!"

            Several torch lights went off immediately.

            "Let's go for the ladder again!" I said, ordering. I admit going back to the surface and the school wasn't a good idea, but being high enough will be good. We can aim the guns we got from Principal Guns' office, and the small hole we had used as entrance hours ago can give good vantage points.

            The remaining girls, Suzanne, Andrea, Jasmine, and Sophie, ran as fast as they can. On the other hand, Rich, Jimmy, Matthew, and James were beheading zombies that get close enough to anyone of us. We can't afford someone more to die.

            I was trying to have a plan B. Everything must have backups. I look cautiously and meticulously on the smaller pipes on the walls, and most of them had a glint of weak, morning light at their ends—indicating some of them are our way out of the sewers. Landing on grime or in the nearby river will do.

            There's a dozen of branching holes. Some of them seem endless. Some looked like we need to crouch down to enter. In this time, I don't need human errors.

            "James! Guys! We'll go here!" I yell.

            My voice bounced and echoed on the walls, and then it was followed by a multitude shrieks and groans. When Andrea opened her light again, I had a glimpse on the undead. And it didn't make me feel safe.

            Lined in dozens, their arms forward, they march slowly. Some broke the pattern, and they literally ran like rabid dogs just to get their heads off by just a swing of Rich's mop. Citizens of Faber City, they look. With different uniforms, corporate attires, and even house clothes, they were covered in blood, and their faces weren't something autopsies can study. Eyes dropping from their sockets, ears bitten off, guts swinging from a stomach cut—

            It hit me suddenly.

            "No! Stop!" I cried out. I went back to the boys who were using our only weapons to swing heads off.

            Jimmy gave me a maniacal look. He probably enjoyed what he was doing, even though it wasn't productive. "What, now? You want us to have mercy and let them reach us?"

            I was about to answer, but Matthew replied, "Yeah, kill zombies and carry on!" as he shoved his glasses inwards.

            No, this is wrong. We are wasting time and energy. I can't even see where the line of the dead horde ends.

            "No," I say. "You'll waste your energy. Look, you're even mixing dirty blood on the water! We need not to behead them, because even without their brains, they can move and kill!"

            The girls gasped. The boys except James looked ashamed.

            "Come on," I said, looking each on the pipes again.

            Oh, I really can't believe I didn't expect much zombies down here. I mean, how can they possibly be that desperate to eat us? God, no.

            "AAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHH!"

            We hear a terrible scream of a girl. It was followed by a yell, "Andrea!"

            I saw it.

            Andrea, with her waist-length hair, was struggling herself free from a zombie taller than anyone of us. Ripped muscles bulged on his sleeves, yet he wasn't hugging Andrea to death with those arms or something—he was pulling her hair.

            James staggered on his feet, and bellowed, "Give way!"

            He took Matthew's bayonet and he skewered the zombie's head. I was to yell good work when James pulled the bladed gun free, but he wasn't looking like he did a great job. He was looking menacingly at Andrea, examining as if she's got a single glitter on her face.

            "John..." James murmured. He pointed a bloody finger on Andrea.

            My eyes traced where he was pointing. On her right arm, blood was gushing slowly, filling color on her ripped sleeve. The sight gave me a sick chill up my spine, and I can't be wrong.

            I still didn't explain the guillotine-ala-star-section-style, and this matter kept my mind rolling and busy.

            Others looked concerned, while the others were fighting off zombies.

            "She's bitten," I muttered, beaming. I know that's what I can call her wound. A bite.

            Andrea tries to fix herself. "N-No, I'm fine. We need to keep safe and carry on."

            "No," I said. "You're bitten. You're going to be a zombie in a few minutes."

            Andrea looked at me confusingly.

            "John!" James snapped at me.

            I looked at him. "We need to... dispose her."

            That sentence literally gave a solid lump on my throat—I can't believe I was saying this, that I want one of us to die. James frowned at me, and I knew what that means.

            One quick stroll on my mind—Andrea had been one of his friends among our classmates as well. So do the others. Yes, my best friend was friendly.

            The girls objected. Suzanne said with tears forming in her eyes, "Firstly, Den. Now, will one die for more?"

            I didn't want to argue anymore. Adrenaline was quickly depriving itself in me, and I feel my knees are going to tremble again.

            "If she'll go with us..." I said softly, "then she might eat us."

            "N-N-N-No," mumbled Andrea, who was fighting with some sort of pain that probably came from her bitten arm. She was on her feet, but the girls were on her side. They were ready—she might fall on her knees anytime.

            I sighed. I know I'm about to make a dangerous decision, but I figured out that since I'm the class president of the star section of Joseph's University, I think I can always kill even my friends if it was necessary to let more lives to live. One for a couple of kids.

            "Let's go!"

            Jimmy held his slim, wooden javelin as he skirted through. "We can't hold them any longer!"

            I made a tsk-tsk sound, and I told the others to get on their feet.

            Finally, when I saw plenty of light streaming through one pipe, I said, "Through here!"

            James and Suzanne assisted Andrea, and the boys stayed behind the line, turning their heads every time to check.

            The hole I had seen was so narrow it made me worry.

            At least two feet from the current water level, the slimy hole glittered faintly. I figured out we should crouch—no, at least we'll crawl in. For the first time, I consider claustrophobic areas safe for a bit.

            "Go, Jasmine, you first," I told Jasmine.

            "What? Why me? What if there are zomb—"

            "No, there aren't. Just think they are stupid enough," I told her.

            I almost carried her whole, like I was loading a cannon with a human. Yes, that's the feeling.

            Hot, panicking blood pumped in my head as I load Sophie next. She was squirming like I was tickling her. Meanwhile, I think I hear Jasmine yelp.

            "Oh God! You never told me cockroaches are living here!" she yells.

            After taking down a zombie using his bayonet again, Matthew chuckled.

            I set Andrea next, and while her blood was dripping on my arm, I can't take the feeling that what I were doing was wrong. So wrong. But she did crawl like crazy.

            James elbowed me. "Hey."

            "Hey," I replied while loading Suzanne, who was terribly shaking uncomfortably as if I was touching her intimacies.

            He held his bat tight. "Are you sure that's a correct way?"

            I half-nod. "Well, I don't think I'm very sure."

            He looked doubtful. "Just load everyone else, okay?"

            Then I gave him a full nod, and Suzanne was on her knees now, crawling for the light. The girls are over, and I called the others. Jimmy's next. He needs no more assistance, as he was slim enough to fit on the hole.

            I looked over the others who are still fighting. No.

            Rich can't fit in this hole, I should've known. No.

            I pulled James over, and he nearly took another rabid zombie head off its neck. He fitted in the hole very fine, and before he can disappear from my sight, I said:

            "If there are...infected outside," I whisper in his ear, "always call for help. And promise me, to never, ever, return here for anything. Okay?"

            James looked anguish and he was having second thoughts; he nodded as he crept as fast as he can. I felt that my chest was heaving up and down rapidly again as I face the problem.

            Matthew raced towards the hole, and he tapped my back.

            "I'm sorry, John, but they are so many," said Matthew, as his glasses glinted silver once last time and he followed the others to safety. Every second that passed without anyone screaming was fine, but now I find myself with Rich—who was struggling with dozens of infected people.

            I tapped Rich's back, and then he shoots one woman squarely on her chest, knocking her down, plunging her in the water. It was good the current slows them down, but it wouldn't prevent them from walking towards us.

            One moment, Rich was changing his magazine of bullets, and I was left looking at each one of the zombies. The thought of my family might be among this horde...it was so excruciating.

            Rich's face was sweating, and was turning pink.

            "Yeah, John, I know what you'll tell me," Rich stuttered. "Y-You should go, I'll give these damn zombies good fight before I die."

            I didn't answer.

            I slung my backpack forward, and even though I don't want to end things my way, I think I need to do this. What I will do is suicide on my life, but will be a genocide from down here.

            I'm going to blow everything.

            I found some explosives on Principal Gregory Guns' secret safe. It wasn't a secret until I discovered it in his office, and I brought some. Just in case.

            If you think I hadn't been listening to our Chemistry class, you're wrong. In fact, I have this little trivia to share. Methane is a flammable gas, and can explode on contact with fire. The explosives with me aren't fire—these are hell's inferno.

            Where is methane found?

            Usually on rotting garbage. And this underground sewer system? It's like a huge capsule of methane. What I was wondering is how we survived underground longer than the normal. Deprivation of oxygen should be enough to asphyxiate us.

            Rich looked as if he's about to cry, but he continued to take down zombies. It feels like my gut was twisting. Once he saw what I was holding, he gasped.

            "No," he muttered. "You'll—?"

            I gave him a nod.

            I know I'll die, but I have no more choice. I just can't leave him here. His death will be one of my nightmares again if I ever survived this thing.

            The infected was very near now. But they stopped.

            I fixed my stare at them. They all stood still and bowed their heads as if they are sleeping while standing.

            Rich and I were shaking. But that didn't make us let our guard down. And for a second, one zombie lunged hungrily towards us.

            That's what I hate about them. Some of them walk like those you see in Thriller—slow march and their arms forward to reach, but I really hate some who run like damn rabies-driven dogs. After shooting the one attacking him straight on the head, Rich trembled.

            "Go, now, John," Rich pleaded. "The president's life is much worthy. You can save more life than I can do. Go."

            I shake my head.

            And then zombies quickly sprinted forward.

            I forgot what happened next, because it was so quick I barely registered things on my mind. An underweight kid pinned me on the dripping, mossy wall, and I found myself struggling with it. I tried to resist the kid, and he was very keen on reaching my neck, as if it's the most delicious part of my body.

            I remember.

            The parotid arteries were on necks, and maybe that's what the undead wants first. They want a blood feast before deboning us or turning us into like them.

            For the first time, I had a zombie face to face with me—so near I can see its horrid face. Blood red eyes with no pupils, his face looked transparent as green veins were obvious on his cheeks. A chunk of his face was missing, and I didn't like how his breath smelled like spoiled milk mixed with cat poo.

            "Rich!" I yell for help. He didn't respond, but with one lucky, powerful move, I elbowed the infected child off me.

            It fell on the dirty waters, and before it can stand and pounce me again, I charged my right foot and crushed his fragile ribcage. The water tinted darker after I did.

            My eyes try to find Rich. And I didn't like what I saw.

            Three—no, four infected citizens of Faber City were around him. He was terribly yelling for help, and I quickly raced around to help him. I saw a floating PVC pipe nearby, and I grabbed it.

            I strike with fury and vengeance.

            I whipped the pipe on one zombie's back, and he was thrown off Rich. For Rose, Ellie, and Den.

            Strong enough, Rich managed to lift two zombies away from him with his beefy arms. Then the last one he nudged so hard on the skull with his shotgun.

            Before I assisted him up, I examined him quickly. I saw no bite or wound around him, so I helped him. I got through myself, too. I got no more than bleeding scratches from the young infected I had encountered.

            My classmate had barely stood up when a couple of the undead ran towards us again. I almost dropped my explosives on knee-high waters, but I held it tighter. This is for my life.

            Rich grunted, "Go, I told you! I can handle them!"

            Let's say I ignored him.

            I swung the long, plastic pipe on another head. With such force, even the body of the zombie I attacked was thrown off nearby; making a splash sound.

            I want to utter every bad word and curse that I know, but it wouldn't help, either. I just really hope my friends are fine. Please. It'll be like I'll be wasting all my efforts—and my life—for nothing.

            After beheading three more zombies, I faced the truth—my guesses were right.

            In order to kill the zombies and carry on, here's what John Eddington suggests: Take off their heads immediately after they turned into living zombies.

            "T-They can move h-headless!" Rich mumbled.

            I don't know how science can explain this, but how do zombies move if their heads are taken off? Their brains must've been the first site of the infection's curse, but how is it possible they can still move?

            "Their nerves might work with themselves, I think," Rich said, as if he read my thoughts. "They might work without brain impulses due to whatever virus this is."

            Saluting his bright idea and his courage to give me more fears than I can handle, I shake Rich and said, "Come on, big man. Help me and yourself up."

            Before he can even stand on his both feet from the destruction of his balance, (something that I hate about him,) zombies were now three meters away. And if one of them surged towards us...

            I look to my right. I saw the hole that my classmates had gone through a while ago. Are they safe? Yes, they should keep safe to carry on.

            Safety lies on my right, danger in front of me. On my back can be a way out, but I doubt if that idea will save us both. I can't carry Rich up using the ladder we used, and I won't climb first and see him die.

            I had a fourth choice. Much sinister and dangerous. Like I said, nothing we will do to stay alive is not dangerous.

            The explosive suicide.

            Suddenly, I can tell I saw someone standing on the left branch pipe. It was a figure of a girl, but it glinted with faint light like it was just a mirage or an illusion—or something else entirely.

            It turned. I can really tell it was Rose.

            No, it can't be. Is she still alive? If yes, then I can't just leave Rich here to rescue her...

            Yet she didn't look like she needed help. The zombies continued towards us, barely two meters away if I didn't continue to step away. I can tell they noticed no one but us, their early raw chicken and beef and pork meat substitute.

            Rose stood still on where she was. Was I just imagining her? I'm afraid to think that she'll be escorting us to death.

            Escort to Death.

            Her lips trembled, and even from the distance, I can hear her.

            "Remember chess in times like this," Rose said softly. "Sometimes it's very wrong to sacrifice everything just for an advantage. Everything has alternatives."

            I barely understood her.

            "Rose, wait!" I said, and then her figure was gone like poof.

            Rich didn't hear anything, from the way he looked. He nudged me. With bothering calmness, he said, "John, they're here."

            I smiled. "Then we'll be out."