Original Stories Fan Fiction / Horror Fan Fiction ❯ Plague 11: The Outbreak ❯ Refuge Hunting ( Chapter 4 )

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

Chapter 4: Refuge Hunting
The sound of stairs creaking grew as the footsteps came closer. John grabbed the shotgun and slowly walked to the doorway. He signaled for Lauren to follow him. Trent layed on the couch, his leg wrapped up from their previous incident with Hank. John took each and every step with caution as he made his way across the carpeted living room. He and Lauren slowly entered the hallway. They heard the footsteps stop. John lept walking, gun ready, toward the front entrance room. John neared the two corpses of their former comrades and quickly tunred to face the far wall and the stairs. A man was standing there. He had on wrinkled clothes and his hair was a mess. The man saw the gun and backed up into the wall. His eyes widened with fear and he pleaded loudly to John, "Oh my god! Please Don't kill me! I'm not one of them!"

John stepped closer, gun still drawn. He looked at the man's arms and legs. "Are you bitten?" he asked.

The man seemed to understand the question. He stood up. "No! None of them got me. See? I'm clean!" he said, showing his arms and legs.

John let out a sigh of relief. He and Lauren approached the man. He introduced himself as Ryan Kendel. He lived on the second floor and had been keeping up with the predicament. John and Lauren fill Ryan in on the details of the past day and a half for them and all the information they learned. When asked if he was the only one in the building, Ryan claimed to have heard more footsteps on a third floor, so he locked himself up in his room.

They traveled upstairs to the second floor. More footsteps could indeed be heard coming from above. They were more sloppy that Ryan's. John had only one thing on his mind: zombies. He readied the shotgun and approached the staircase. Ryan ducked into his room and walked out holding a tennis raquet. As he got into attack position, Lauren gave him an odd look. John glided up the stairs and turned to the hallway. It was dark, but he could make out a shadow of a moving person.

As he walked through the hallway, gun pointed ahead, the silhouette stopped moving. John saw it was next to a closed door. Ryan followed him up the stairs and found the light switch. With a flick, the hallway lit up and an infected man appeared infront of John. The creature looked John in the eyes in hunger. John didn't waste time. He fired a shell from the gun, killing it. They approached the door. Ryan knocked on it softly. "Hello, in there!" he called loudly. "It's Ryan Kendel from the second floor. Are you okay?"

After a few seconds, a voice responded. It sounded like a young girl. "Are they gone?" she asked.

John looked at Lauren. He spoke up, "Yeah. We got him. There's no more zombies. Come on out."

The sound of the door unlocking clicked into their ears and a girl that looked to be no older that seventeen stepped out. She saw dead body a let out a frightened yelp. Together, they traveled back down to the first floor. They met back up with Trent and the introductions took place. Ryan introduced himself to Trent and vice versa. Then Lauren realized that the girl they saved hadn't told them her name. She turned to her. "So what's your name?" she asked.

The girl studdered with shyness. "Um... I-I'm Hannah. Thank you for saving me." she said softly.

"No problem. You would have done the same if we were stuck, right?" Lauren responded.

Hannah looked at the floor. "I wouldn't count on that. Im not really that brave. When that thing got in, I just locked myself in my room. I can't even watch scary movies without freaking." she admitted.

"Well, that aside," John jumped in, "it's better to have more of us. We'll stand a better chance surviving this nightmare in larger numbers. Now, I need to see how far the police station is. Do you two know?" John aimed the question at Ryan and Hannah.

"The stations not far. About a block away, I think. We could see it from the third floor." Ryan answered him.

They ventured upstairs again. Trent managed the strength to limp behind them. On the third floor was a large window that overlooked the street. John looked out and saw the station. It was, in fact, less than a block away. But there was a problem. It looked to be pretty far to just walk or run. This was joined with the fact that there were no buildings along the way that were safe. John could see zombies running in and out of the different stores and shops. If they were going to get to the police station, there couldn't be any stopping or slowing down. Then a sound came that struck all five survivors in the heart. It was the sound of the glass on the front door shattering. The zombies had broken in.

Trent looked to Lauren, who looked at everyone else. No one had an answer. The sound of scrambling footsteps made its way up the stairs. John held the shotgun tightly. Lauren held the pistol she had picked off of Hank and the prepared for the inevitable attack. Ryan spoke up quickly. "Follow me!" he called and he ran down the hall.

The gang followed him while keeping their gaurd up. Ryan brought them to a door at the end of the hallway. He toggled the doorknob, but to no avail. John stepped up and fired a shot into the door, blowing off the knob. The team ran into the room and closed the door. Ryan and Trent shoved a desk up against the door and backed off. The hallway filled with grunts and groans from their attackers. John approached Ryan. "Now we're trapped. What is this place?" he asked, clearly distressed.

This is Mr. Samson's room. He's this guy I had a drink with a few times. He used to tell me about his old war days. The man was like seventy, or something. I know he has some weapons." Ryan explained.

They searched the apartment. Just as Ryan had said, they found old World War II era supplies. It was almost as if they had stumbled upon an exhibit of 1940s weaponry. There was a bolt action rifle, a small revolver, flares, and two hand grenades. The knocks at the door became more fierce. The desk that held it in place shook with the door. The group spent a short time arming themselves and then moved to the door. Trent had grebbed a bottle of vodka that Mr. Samson had in his kitchen, and had stuck a cloth into the nozzle, letting it soak in the alcohol. He flicked the World War II era lighter and set a flame to the clothe. Ryan used a hammer he had found to knock a larger hole into the door where John had used the shotgun. With great accuracy, Trent tossed the cocktail he had created into the hallway. There was the sound of shattering glass, followed by and intense heat.

John moved the desk and opened the door. Outside, the walls glowed in fire and liquor. Flamming bodies lined the hallway. They moved into the narrow passage and walked quickly to the stairs. The sounds of more wandering zombies came from downstairs. Trent prepared another Molotov Cocktail while walking, using a bottle of turpentine he located in the room. He lit the improvised wick and tossed it down the stairs. A bright light came from the hallway and screams flew around. Heat radiated onto them as they made their way down the staircase and into the second floor hallway. There was only one more set of stairs to go.

John and Lauren led through the hall. As they crossed the corridor, an infected man climbed the stairs ahead of them. Lauren fired two shots. One hit him in the arm, and the next in the skull. They progress farther and arrived at the stairs. A few zombies moved around downstairs. John fired a shot from the shotgun, taking two out with its scattershot. Hannah used the revolver to finish off the third, using up two bullets. John glanced down at the shotgun. He only had three shots left. He had to make them count.

"You guys ready?" John asked in a shakey voice.

"Hell no, man!" Trent spat out.

"Good enough for me!" John repeated to his friend.

They stormed into the streets, running quickly, but together. Trent kept the weight off of his wounded leg. Several zombies attacked them. Lauren fired off shots from her pistol, killing any that came near her. Ryan blasted away with Mr. Samson's war rifle. Between each shot he had to pull back the bolt of the gun and then slap it into place. Hannah tried to conserve her ammunition, but couldn't help firing at the monsterous people. Two zombies ran near John. He cocked the shotgun and fired a shell at them, blowing parts of their heads off. He cocked it again. Two shots left, he thought to himself.

More zombies stormed the group, their numbers increasing rapidly. John fired another shot at a group of runners. Lauren expended her clip and slapped in another. Ryan cast a bullet from his rifle that traveled through three heads. Hannah's revolver was empty by now. They had almost made it to the station, but the horde of undead was getting too big. John pulled the trigger one last time on the shotgun. It killed some, but they were soon replaced. He looked at Lauren. Tears streamed down her face. They were all as good as dead. But John wasn't going down without a fight. "Now, Trent!" he yelled.

Trent leaped from the middle and tossed both grenades in opposite directions. He had pulled the pins out when they left the apartment building and had held them ready until this moment. Within seconds, the two frags exploded, sending many of the undead across the street. One of the grenades had landed near a car and the resulting explosion set off the car, creating even more of a blast from behind the group. They all toppled over from the force of the blast. Any attackers that were near were either blown away or blown to bits.

John lifted his head and looked around. There was an intense ringing in his ears and he felt blood coming from them. He was in a daze. The others were struggling to get up as well. As John looked to his left, he saw one more zombie running at him. It leaped into the air and dove for him. Just as the zombie neared him, a loud clanging noise filled the air and the zombie was sent flying across the road. John looked forward to see what had saved him. A man in a police uniform stiid their, wielding a large hand gun. He was joined by three others, each covering the entrance to the station. The officer helped John up and spoke to him, "You and your friends get inside! Hurry!" he ordered. They didn't argue at all. John and the others fell inside of the safe haven while the police officers held off any attackers. After evryone was inside, the cops followed and locked the doors.

They were drenched in sweat and bits of blood that had spouted from their attackers. They all breathed heavy and hard. Lauren, Hannah, and even Ryan wiped tears from their eyes. The officers brought over a crate filled with water bottles. They drank the water and rested for a while. During their rest, an officer approached them. "You kids are crazy! You're lucky we saw you guys or you'd all have been toast. Where were you headed?" he said.

"We were actually headed here." John replied. "My dad works here. We came to find him."

"You guys also have the best defense in the city." Trent added.

"What's your dad's name, kid?" an officer asked.

John glared at him. "I'm not a kid. I'm eighteen. And my dad's name is George Thompson. Is he here?"

"I'll have Charley, here, go look for him. My name's Lieutenant Morrison. If you need anything, let me know." he said.

"My leg's hurt pretty bad." Trent said, "Can someone take a look at it?"

"I'll have Officer Gomez take a look at you." Morrison said.

John and Ryan walked around the station. There was around ten officers from what they saw, but John didn't see his father and that worried him. It was a clean facility from the looks of it. And it had held up well. Ryan noticed a clock on the wall. It was around six o'clock in the evening. It would soon be night. Both he and John hated the night. They walked into a room where a man sat at a desk next to a large machine. The officer noticed them and waved them in. "How's it going, guys? I'm Officer Franklin." he addressed them.

"I'm John and this is Ryan. We just arrived here." John said in a friendly, but still shaken tone.

"What's all this technology?" Ryan asked.

Franklin looked at the moniters and gadjets infront of him. "I'm on radio duty right now. We've been sending out a distress signal since the start of this whole thing, yesterday. Hopefully we'll reach someone." he explained.

John and Ryan returned to the main room. Passing by an officer, John accidentally bumped him in the shoulder. He turned around and looked John dead in the eyes. "Watch where you're going, asshole!" he spat.

John gave him a weird look. "Hey, man, it was an accident." he said.

"You think, just cause you made it this far, you're tough shit? Well you're not! So watch yourself, kid!" the officer yelled before storming off.

Morrison walked up to John. "Sorry about him. That's Tim Andrews. He's a complete ass." Morrison explained.

"I'll watch out for him" John said.

"Now, I have some bad news. We checked all around the staion and there was no sign of your dad. Then we checked his time card. He hadn't come in since last Friday. We have no idea where he is." Morrison admited.

John's heart sank. He lowered his head and bakced up. "Thanks anyway, Lieutenant." he murmured.

An hour passed and John let his emotions go with it. He wanted to believe that his parents were okay. But he couldn't let feelings get in his way now, or he's surely lose it. Trent returned, walking on crutches. His leg was wrapped better and he seemed relieved. The cops brought out some rations for everyone and after the sun set, they fell asleep. All with the exception of John, who had another sleepless night.

Franklin awoke in the morning to the sound of beeping. He stumbled around the desk until he found the source of the beeping. It was a signal for an incoming message.. Franklin couldn't believe it. He picked up the reciever for the radio and accepted the message. "Hello? Anyone there? Over." he asked.

A voice flowed over the speakers, "Station A-57, what is your predicament? Over." the voice replied.

"My name is Robert Franklin! I'm an officer at the Hunton City Police Station in Hunton City, Colorado! I have tweleve police officers and five other survivors here and we need help! Over." Franklin said desprettly.

There was a brief pause. Then the voice came back. "Stay put, Officer. We'll bring the rescue transport chopper to y'all as soon as possible. Have everyone ready to evacuate and board the helicopter immediately. We'll transport y'all to the National Guard safety camp just twenty miles outside the city. Stay put and wait for us. Over."

Franklin ran through the building, calling to everyone sleeping. "Everyone get up! Get up now! They're coming! The National Guard is coming in a rescue chopper to take us to a depot outside of the city! Get up and get ready to go!" he yelled.

Three hours passed and everyone patiently waited for the National Guard to come and save them. John waited with his friends. They all were happy that they would be able to escape this hell. Morrison waited with Gomez and Franklin. Tim Andrews stood cursing under his breathe about having to wait. Finally, the sound of a helicopter came from the sky. A large transportation chopper descended on the street, crushing some zombies. A group of soldiers exited the chopper with machine guns drawn. They blasted away any of the infected in short, controlled bursts. Quickly, everyone boarded the helicopter and they took off into the sky.

John smiled at his friends. He looked over at Morrison and the other officers. "We made it!" he called out.

As everyone celebrated their escape, one way or another, the chopper passed over a large, dense forest. The pilot's eye was caught by a flashing light and a siren. He pressed some buttons, but nothing seemed to stop the lights and sounds. "What's wrong?" the co-pilot asked anxiously.

"The engine's malfunctioning! This is bad! It's over heating! If it gets too hot, the engine could-" he was cut off by a loud booming sound comung from above and in the front.

The helicopter bucked and dipped. John and the others shook around in the back. They were thrown around as the chopper slammed to the side. "What the hell's going on?" Lauren yelled.

"The engine's blown! Everyone hold on! We're going down!" the pilot yelled.

Then chopper dipped into a tailspin and fell from the sky. With a powerful impact, in crashed into the forest below. Then there was silence.