Part 10 of Zombie Wars
It was a New Moon and in the small valley they were camped in it was so dark the forms of the Joshua Trees barely traced an inky outline on the desert pavement they were camped on. Wolf sat away from me, on guard perhaps, in the direction of the base.
As the sky began to pierce the night with hints of blue we walked the mile or so to the fence without talking. I hadn't eaten anything but I was full of energy and we quickly climbed the wall of a wash at the edge of the fenced perimeter. Our plan was simple, no thanks to the Squirrel who had offered no insight on how to get inside the compound. We would approach the gate at sunrise, and ask to see The Preacher. If they were dumb enough to let me near him, I intended to split his face open with my hatchet. Other than that, planning seemed moot. Wolf would run interference and try to keep them off me, if it came to a fight.
Dawn came.
The entrance to the former military base was littered with burned out and destroyed vehicles. Formerly domesticated cats milled about the empty guard house. The fence was closed and ragged figures in tattered gray clothes and robes shuffled to the gate to meet us. Their eyes were cloudy with cataracts and most had skin turned yellow from what may have been kidney disease. Wolf covered his nose/snout because the stench of the rotting flesh was so strong. I looked up at the towers with the machine guns and it looked like the men manning them had been dead a few days. The one on the left was half draped out the window with dried gore coming from his ears and stringy gray matter trailing from his nose. The other one on the right was still and a kitten appeared to be eating the flesh of his hand, still on the gun.
I opened the gate and they shuffled back.
" These guys smell like they are all ready dead . " Wolf said.
I walked through the crowd that parted in a tense silence. Wolf placed his hand on my shoulder as if guiding me and we headed towards the tunnel entrance.
" They are. " I said.
They looked as much zombie as The Others. They were starved, and it was radiation sickness that made the skin hang in ribbons from their gaunt forms. Yet they were docile. I gentle shoved my way through them. One grasped my arm and tried to whisper something in a breath that smelled like rotten meat and musty cardboard. I pushed his arm away and my hand felt like I had rubbed it in warm butter. I wiped the rotten flesh on the the robes of the one in front of me as I pushed through the crowd. Pages of a book littered the ground. The Two Towers, by Tolkien.
Finally, Wolf and I stood before a door marked 8675309.
He unslung his shotgun and I pulled out my hatchet.
The crowd of the undead watched us without expression as we went inside.
* * *
Chicom Head Quarters
They were gathered around an oval table, twelve of them. Magistrate of Argricullture, Minister of Dissent, Quarter Master, etc.
They had stick bodies now. Malnutrition had given them scurvy. The Master at Arms and Colonel Ho both were picking at lice in their scalp.
Hing was positioned under the Commanders seat, stroking his cock. The trouble was the Commander was dead. He had passed exactly twelve minutes ago and they had all sat there looking at each other, wondering what to do. Hing, obviously The Commanders lover was now hopelessly insane. The civies had long ignored the guns with the empty magazines and the tanks sat empty with dead batteries and dry gas tanks. The generators no longer illuminated the wire and there was no need to patrol anymore.
They were starving.
Two months ago the Commander had ordered another cull with the excuse being one guards dozing at the gate watch. The remaining men had lined up and Hing had walked behind them. Hing clubbed one to death and the men dragged him away. All was well until a bit of flesh in the pot that night revealed the skull and cross the guard had as a tattoo on his calf. Then the troops realized the real reason for the culls, wherein one in ten was selected for clubbing; the were for food.
The Chinese soldiers then more or less disbanded, heading into the wastelands as the people of the shanty town had been hanging those they caught.
The people of the shanty town now approached the gate of the Chinese military camp with torches and pitch forks. Some carried ropes fashioned into nooses.
The twelve men eyed each other nervously, knowing their time was at an end. Three of them pulled grenades from their vests, they all nodded to each other, and they pulled the pins as one and placed them on the desk.
INTERLUDE
The night is black
Without a moon.
The air is thick and still.
The vigilantes gather on
The lonely torchlit hill.
Features distorted in the flickering light,
The faces are twisted and grotesque.
Silent and stern in the sweltering night,
The mob moves like demons possesed.
Quiet in conscience, calm in their right,
Confident their ways are best.
The righteous rise
With burning eyes
Of hatred and ill-will.
Madmen fed on fear and lies
To beat and burn and kill.
http://forums.bf2s.com/viewtopic.php?id=124096
It was a New Moon and in the small valley they were camped in it was so dark the forms of the Joshua Trees barely traced an inky outline on the desert pavement they were camped on. Wolf sat away from me, on guard perhaps, in the direction of the base.
As the sky began to pierce the night with hints of blue we walked the mile or so to the fence without talking. I hadn't eaten anything but I was full of energy and we quickly climbed the wall of a wash at the edge of the fenced perimeter. Our plan was simple, no thanks to the Squirrel who had offered no insight on how to get inside the compound. We would approach the gate at sunrise, and ask to see The Preacher. If they were dumb enough to let me near him, I intended to split his face open with my hatchet. Other than that, planning seemed moot. Wolf would run interference and try to keep them off me, if it came to a fight.
Dawn came.
The entrance to the former military base was littered with burned out and destroyed vehicles. Formerly domesticated cats milled about the empty guard house. The fence was closed and ragged figures in tattered gray clothes and robes shuffled to the gate to meet us. Their eyes were cloudy with cataracts and most had skin turned yellow from what may have been kidney disease. Wolf covered his nose/snout because the stench of the rotting flesh was so strong. I looked up at the towers with the machine guns and it looked like the men manning them had been dead a few days. The one on the left was half draped out the window with dried gore coming from his ears and stringy gray matter trailing from his nose. The other one on the right was still and a kitten appeared to be eating the flesh of his hand, still on the gun.
I opened the gate and they shuffled back.
" These guys smell like they are all ready dead . " Wolf said.
I walked through the crowd that parted in a tense silence. Wolf placed his hand on my shoulder as if guiding me and we headed towards the tunnel entrance.
" They are. " I said.
They looked as much zombie as The Others. They were starved, and it was radiation sickness that made the skin hang in ribbons from their gaunt forms. Yet they were docile. I gentle shoved my way through them. One grasped my arm and tried to whisper something in a breath that smelled like rotten meat and musty cardboard. I pushed his arm away and my hand felt like I had rubbed it in warm butter. I wiped the rotten flesh on the the robes of the one in front of me as I pushed through the crowd. Pages of a book littered the ground. The Two Towers, by Tolkien.
Finally, Wolf and I stood before a door marked 8675309.
He unslung his shotgun and I pulled out my hatchet.
The crowd of the undead watched us without expression as we went inside.
* * *
Chicom Head Quarters
They were gathered around an oval table, twelve of them. Magistrate of Argricullture, Minister of Dissent, Quarter Master, etc.
They had stick bodies now. Malnutrition had given them scurvy. The Master at Arms and Colonel Ho both were picking at lice in their scalp.
Hing was positioned under the Commanders seat, stroking his cock. The trouble was the Commander was dead. He had passed exactly twelve minutes ago and they had all sat there looking at each other, wondering what to do. Hing, obviously The Commanders lover was now hopelessly insane. The civies had long ignored the guns with the empty magazines and the tanks sat empty with dead batteries and dry gas tanks. The generators no longer illuminated the wire and there was no need to patrol anymore.
They were starving.
Two months ago the Commander had ordered another cull with the excuse being one guards dozing at the gate watch. The remaining men had lined up and Hing had walked behind them. Hing clubbed one to death and the men dragged him away. All was well until a bit of flesh in the pot that night revealed the skull and cross the guard had as a tattoo on his calf. Then the troops realized the real reason for the culls, wherein one in ten was selected for clubbing; the were for food.
The Chinese soldiers then more or less disbanded, heading into the wastelands as the people of the shanty town had been hanging those they caught.
The people of the shanty town now approached the gate of the Chinese military camp with torches and pitch forks. Some carried ropes fashioned into nooses.
The twelve men eyed each other nervously, knowing their time was at an end. Three of them pulled grenades from their vests, they all nodded to each other, and they pulled the pins as one and placed them on the desk.
INTERLUDE
The night is black
Without a moon.
The air is thick and still.
The vigilantes gather on
The lonely torchlit hill.
Features distorted in the flickering light,
The faces are twisted and grotesque.
Silent and stern in the sweltering night,
The mob moves like demons possesed.
Quiet in conscience, calm in their right,
Confident their ways are best.
The righteous rise
With burning eyes
Of hatred and ill-will.
Madmen fed on fear and lies
To beat and burn and kill.
http://forums.bf2s.com/viewtopic.php?id=124096
