Original Stories Fan Fiction / Horror Fan Fiction ❯ Plague 11: The Outbreak ❯ Surviving the Chaos ( Chapter 3 )

[ T - Teen: Not suitable for readers under 13 ]

Chapter 3: Surviving the Chaos
That night John didn't sleep. Trent and Lauren eventually slept, but John never did. He couldn't get past the moans and growls from the street below. And aside from the monsters trying to attack, he had too much on his mind. It was only a day and the whole world had gone to hell. He remembered the previous night. He was at a party with his friends. They were celebrating their graduation and didn't have a care in the world. Now, almost twenty-four hours later, John feared for his life.

John fell through many phases during the night. He spent an hour looking out the window, just staring at all the infected people. He would close his eyes and imagine how easy it would be to take the quick way out. But even when John had the pistol to his own head, he couldn't manage to pull the trigger. He ventured downstairs and walked up to the windows. The zombies outside touched the glass, but never got through. John thought about undoing the locks and letting them in and becoming one. But he didn't. Like it or not, he was stuck in this reality and there was no way out.

By the time morning came, John had dark circles under his eyes. Trent and Lauren woke up soon after sunrise. After finishing the few rations for breakfast, they started looking for ways across the city. The ideas included jumping two stories onto a bus, running through the streets, and even waiting for help to come. None of their ideas were of any use. John wandered down stairs again to think. As he paced around the waiting room, a loud boom thundered into his ears. John ran to the window and saw a miracle. A man was driving down the street in a pickup truck, shooting the zombies with a set of guns in the car and slamming into any that got in his way.

John banged on the glass and yelled to get his attention. But the sounds of the zombies constant thudding on the windows drowned his out. He called ouit loudly, but he couldn't reach the man. John ran back up the stairs and into the room where Trent and Lauren were. They ran up to him. "John, what's wrong, man?" Trent asked.

"Are they coming?" Lauren asked with a worried tone.

"I need to get on the roof! There's a man driving out there in a pickup truck. e need to get his attention!" John explained.

The group split up and quickly searched the floor. There wasn't a single way to access the roof. Time was running out and they needed something. Trent grabbed the shotgun. He walked to a window. Lauren went after him. "What are you doing?" she asked.

"Shut up and watch!" Trent responded. He pulled the trigger and blasted out the window. Shards of glass rained down on the ground below. Trent stuck his head out the window and yelled to the truck. "Help! Hey, you in the truck! Help us!"

John and Lauren joined in, yelling as loud as they could. They watched as the car drove a little farther before haulting to a stop. The man poked his head out the window. They continued to call to him, and eventually, he turned around and drove to the building. John, Trent, and Lauren ran downstairs and watched as the truck swerved into the crowd of zombies, clearing the doorway. They opened the door and ran to the car. They loaded the bags into the bed and jumped in, themselves. The truck turned back around and motored down the road.

The trucker opened the window in the back of the cab to talk to John and his friends. "How y'all doin'? The name's Hank. This is my wife, Linda." They noticed her for the first time. "Sorry about almost missin' y'all. We've been on the run since yesterday. We figured that the city would have more supplies. I've just been killin' these things left and right." he said.

"We're just glad you saw us in time. We don't have to go far, actually. My dad works at a police station only four more blocks that way," John said, pointing to the left.

"Now's that's a hell of a plan!" Hanl called out.

The truck cruised through the streets, smashing into zombies. The city was wrecked. Stores were broken into. Zombies ran through the streets and there was no sign of any living people. Some buildings had small fires in them, casuing an creepy motif to the already decrepid view. Cras were slightly scatters around the streets along with trash, over turned bins, and other debris. Lauren lokked at John and Trent. "Only one more block and we'll be right near the station!" he said in relief.

As they neared an intersection, the truck somewhat slowed. Linda turned to Hank. "Honey, don't slow down! They'll catch us!" she said.

"I'm slowing down so we can avoid the wreckege up ahead. Just calm down. Everythin' fine." he assured her.

As they reached the intersection, Hank turned the truck right slightly to avoid a smoldering car. John looked down the road to the right and froze. In the second that they had entered the intersection, another car with some survivors gunned down the connecting street. John yelled to everyone to hold on. In an instant, the oncoming vehicle collided with the truck, causing both to flip and slam across the open street. The three in the bed spilled across the asphalt and the cab flipped upside-down. John pulled himself up and saw the other car, now on its side. The passanger door was torn off and he could see people inside wiggling around. As he stood up, John picked up the pistol that had landed nearby. He felt something wet on his forehead. As he swiped the skin, he felt a large cut. Upon inspection of his hand, John saw it was covered in blood.

A snarling sound echoed through the city. Trent and Lauren got up slowly. Lauren reached for the shotgun, laying by the wrecked and twisted truck. The doors to cab opened up and Hank spilled out, dragging Linda. They all were pretty hurt. Then they came. Lots of the once-humam monsters stormed into the street. John and the group all backed up toward the curb. They watched as a zombie jumped into the car that had hit them. Screams and cries came from the insde. Trent turned around to see more undead running for them. "They're coming!" he yelled.

Laurened fired a shot at the horde, but to no avail. John aimed and took one out as it neared them. He looked to his left and saw another mass of them moving quickly toward the. He turned and fired the last two shots from the pistol. Nothing stopped them. John ducked out of the way as they barged in on the group. Lauren fred more shots into them, killing some and slowing others. One tackled Linda to the ground. Hank saw this and darted to his wife. He pulled the zombie off and fired a bullet into its brain. He helped Linda up and they ran to a nearby building. "Hey! Get in here! We'll be safe!" Hank yelled.

Trent, Lauren, and John once again ran into the building, and once again locked themselves inside and away from the abominations. A quick rest was taken. Swet dripped off their faces and they gasped for air. Hank stood near Linda, who was cluching her hand. He looked at her with a strange look. "You get hurt, Linda?" he asked.

"No. Just one of those damn freaks bit me. I'm bleeding a lot. But i guess no big deal." Linda said.

When they heard "bite" John's and Trent's eyes widened. They knew what happened when someone was bit. Lauren caught on to, having heard the broadcast from the previous evening. John waved them into a coner to talk. He spoke in a hushed voice, "We can't let her stay. She's going to end up like one of them."

"Well we have to tell Hank." Trent said.

They all nodded and returned to the couple. John approached them with a frown on his face. "Hank, we need to talk. Linda was bitten. And when that happens, the victim turns into one of those zombies. We can't let her stay. She'll change into a monster." he said.

Hank looked at them with a distrusting look. He put his hand around Linda's shoulders. "No. I'm not givin' up my wife. Y'all are wrong. Dead wrong." he spoke with an athoritatively booming voice.

"Hank, please. We've seen this happen before." Trent said.

"They even confirmed it at Harvard." Lauren added.

Hank grew more and more angry by the second. He grabbed the pistol saddled in his belt and looked at John. "Shut up!" he yelled and pointed his weapon at John.

John gasped stepped back. He looked back at Trent, who had froze in fear. He heard footsteps from the other side. Lauren jumped in front of his and pointed the shotgun and Hank's chest. Hank stared her dead in the eyes and swung his hand at her. The metal of the gun collided with her head and Lauren fell to the ground, dropping the shotgun. Hank kicked it away, out of the reach of the others.

Trent ran up to him with his fist drawn. Hank turned to him quickly and pulled the trigger. A bullet tore into Trent's leg, crippling him. Trent slipped onto the floor and screamed loudly, holding his bloody, wounded leg. Hank moved the gun to John and spoke coldly, "No one is getting rid of Linda. Now get back before I blast a hole in your head!"

As John backed up, he looked behind Hank. Linda stood up quickly. Johnsaw the same blank look in her eyes. She leaned forward and with a growl, sunk her teeth into Hank's neck. He let out a shriek of terror as Linda tore off a large gorey chunk of his neck. He fell down, bleeding onto the carpet. John jumped to the side and scooped up the shotgun. Linda leaped at him and pulled him to the floor. John rolled away, kicking her in the face before she had the opportunity to bite him. He aimed the shotgun and pulled the trigger. A loud thunderous bang filled the room and tore through Linda's head like it was made of styrophome. An empty shell exited the gun and Linda fell silent. John breathed heavily and looked at the others. "Trent," he called, "You okay?"

"That son of a bitch! My leg!" Trent spat out his only angry words while clutching his wound.

John was about to call to Lauren, but just as he opened his mouth, he saw Hank, out of the corner of his eye, stand up. Hank turned to John, his neck dripping with blood and gibs, and snarled. He ran at John quickly, letting out a cry of hunger. John fumbled with the gun and missed a shot. Hank jumped on him and snapped at his neck and body. John used the barrel of the shotgun to push Hank away, and then fired a blast through his chest. Hank stumbled backward, but soon recovered. John cocked the shotgun and blasted it again, this time, taking out a portion of Hank's head and killing him. The walls were covered in red gooey mess as once more, the room fell quiet.

After the chaos, John realized their location. They had taken refuge in an apartment building. It wasn't too large or small and there was a staircase. John pulled Trent into a room down the hall. He poured water over the cut to clean it and looked around for something to wrap Trent's leg. As he did this, Lauren finally came too. She gasped when she saw Hank and Linda dead on the floor and the walls bathed in blood. She walked down the hall and found the room where John and Trent were. "What the hell happened?" she asked.

"Hank went crazy and shot Trent. Then his wife came back as a zombie and killed him, turning him into a zombie. I had to give them both a blast from the shotgun. And now I'm trying to patch up Trent's leg." John brought Lauren up to speed.

Trent groaned in pain. He closed his eyes and gritted his teeth. "John, stop. We need to pull the bullet out. It's not that deep. I can feel it and it hurts like hell." Trent requested.

John though about how they could extract the bullet. He walked into the kitchen of the apartment and grabbed a steak knife from a drawer. It was small, sharp, and smooth. John returned to the living room and held up the knife. "Dude, this is probably going to hurt like crazy. Just bare with it for a little while." John said. He slide the knife into the hole and touched the sharp edge to the skin. Trent screamed in pain and grabbed John's wrist. "Stop! That is too much! Just stop! There has to be an easier way." he said stirnly.

In the end, they resolved to make Trent pass out. From there's taking the bullet out was an easy task. Trent awoke a liitle while later. The apartments on the lower level were stocked with food and supples. They ate some food and returned to the living room. There, they took the shotgun, now holding only five shells, Hank's pistol, and one last clip on his belt. Now armed, they walked back into the living room of the first apartment. Suddenly, there came a sound. John's, Trent's, and Lauren's heads shot up. There came a creaking sound, followed by footsteps that traveled across the floor above them and then stopped. This was followed by one more step that sounded slightly closer. Whatever was moving around up above was at the stairs. And it was coming down.