Moan Chapter Two

As I slowly find my way back to the commons circle, The darkening sky recedes the light extended into New Haven. As I take my first step on the stairs they greet me with the ordinary creak. The sound seems to get worse everyday like the world decaying outside. The activity seemed to double when I reached the commons circle. The mood lightened ten fold. I glance around, trying to assess what is happening, when I hear a tremendous croak. The main gates begin to open. I see three shadows begin to make their way through the doors. I take place in the crowd, I glance to the side and ask the woman next to me, “What’s going on? I haven’t seen this much commotion since the blackout 2 months ago.” The woman glances at me through the side of her eye. “Some survivors reached the gates, words been getting around. The council has been debating whether or not to let them in.” “I can see what option they chose” I turned back to the focus of commotion. The three shadows made their way into the compound. Details beginning to become more evident with each step they took. The group consisted of a tall, well built man. A woman with a grimace across her face, and a small malnourished man with pale skin. Two guards stood across from them. Rifles aimed for a their chests. Chatter emits from the guards mouth. The survivors placed their weapons on the ground. The small man cringing as he bent over to place his Ak-47 on the ground in front of him. The other man and woman followed suit and placed their weapons on the ground. They were then instructed to put their packs next to their weapons. They did so with little resistance. The largest guard ordered them to get into a line, nudging the small man in the side with the barrel of his rifle. They filed out into a hallway, then into a room. A ominous thud echos through out the area. Piercing the air over the silent gathering of people. Slowly the crowd vanished, retreating back into their cells. As the last few citizens started on their way back, I took one last look at the door that housed the survivors. As questions flooded my mind, worries were washed in, too. The stairs jostled more violently this time up. Walking past, the lights barely illuminate pathway. The blanket still over the deceased mans cell. I arrive at my cell, slide the gate open as quietly as I could. I take a seat at the bed and placed my head on the pillow. Rubbed my eyes and drifted away.

Limping, I glance at the beasts leg. The bone was exposed through his left knee. “Don’t come any closer!” The creature didn’t even begin to think about stopping. I raised the .22 to eye level. Putting the sights into my vision. Pulling the gun to aim at his chest. Steadying my hand. Pop. The bullet forced its way into his ribcage. No blood splattered. No hurtful scream. No tumbling backwards. It just kept advancing. Pop. Another round discharged its way into the beasts stomach. It kept limping its way to me getting closer. I take a step back, trying to create as much room between me and this demon. I steady my hand once more, the sights placed on the beasts head. A moan is let out, echoing through my mind. Pop. The moan halts mid air. The round discharges, speeding through the skull of the monster. The left eye to be exact. Firing a bullet in the skull of a man is a hard act to describe. You pull the trigger, their life ended my one twitch of a muscle. The bullet rips through their skull. The crunch of the shattering bone cracks through the air. The slush of the the brain. The lead chunk rushing through all the thoughts the person may of had. The command center of the human body. Destroyed by a small piece of lead. All the memories they had, cut right through. Followed by the thud of the body as it smashes to the floor. I stood, staring at the body. My hand shaking from the recoil of the gun. I blink, once, twice. Did I really just fire a bullet into the head of someone?

I glance from the decomposed body of the beast to the lifeless corpse of my wife. Her chest eaten away, cracked ribcages, and very little of her insides remain. The ones that do are strung out onto the floor. Her skin folded over. Blood pools everywhere around her body. Soaking into the kitchen tiles. Blood stops, and begins again. Met by the blood leaking from the opened door of the closet. Propped against the wall, a small child. A yellow sunday dress, drenched with blood. Ripped at points, a glance over her body shows a missing arm. The bone protruding where her forearm should be. A lifeless stare shines through her blue eyes. A departed soul. I cringe as a tear forges in my eye.

A colossal sound threw me into an abrupt state of shock. My eyes jolted open. Awoken in a cold sweat. I prop myself up on my arms, trying to differ reality from dream. A shriek pierces the air. Cutting right through the cold breeze that creeps over me. I get to my feet. Rush to the gate and lock it shut. Each gate in New Haven has been modified to lock from the inside rather than out. Made to keep intruders out and you in.
Letting you leave when ever you want. The gate snaps shut with a reinforcing clank.
I stand close to the gate. Silent. My own breathing the only sound. A gunshot rings out, swiftly followed by another. The struggle too far away for me to make out anymore sounds. I stare blankly at the floor beyond my gate. Bodies run past, one, two, three. Each with some sort of firearm. I back away until my back touches the wall, slowly sliding down. Never breaking my stare with the ground. Bodies continue to run past, four, five, six. Their steps echoing through my small cell. Seven, eight, ni-, the footsteps stop in front of my cell. I break my stare with the ground, looking up. James stands infront of my gate. Drenched in sweat. “Get your lazy ass up.” I grab onto the bed beside me and hoist myself to a standing position. Unlock the gate, and meet James’s cold stare. People continue running past us. James holds out his hand, he’s gripping a small revolver by the barrel. “Take it.” I place my shaking hand on the cold grip. A concerned look overtakes his face.

We catch up, struggling. The cold air almost holding us back. Forcing itself into our lungs as we run. The tapping of our footsteps rivaled by the gunshots that can be heard echoing through the compound. I look ahead to see only bobbing heads of about 5 men. Each with a weapon in hand. We come to an abrupt stop. The soles of our boots skid across the ground. “NO!” A voice screams out. Only tailed by a scream, and a thud. “The fucking stairs are out!” another gristly voice yells out. James glances back at me, “Follow me.” He lunges over the rail. The Ak-47 on his back jangles wildly. I follow suit, landing swiftly on my feet and began to run to catch up with James. We pass cells filled with families, some fathers held guns and children were huddled with their siblings and mothers crying. My legs began to succumb to exhaustion.



We reach the commons circle, a man running invades our vision. Tripping over a bench. A metal clank follows. He catches sight of us and speeds after us struggling to get on two feet. Panting and grunting the entire way. James kneels over placing his hand on the man’s shoulder. “Tim, what happened?” “One of the survivors was infected, he bit Austin.” “Wheres Austin now?” James questions. Tim glances to the area he tripped. Gets balance and jogs over and kneels down, picks up a splattered red machete and turns to us. Sweat dripping from his brow. “That answer enough?” A sigh emits from James. Another gunshot rings out. We forced our already tired selves into a full sprint.

The door in which I watched the three people enter earlier is now splattered with blood, the small window broken; The glass shattered over the floor. A large football sized chip missing under the doorknob. The door was forced open, hard. As if someone was trying to escape. Motionless, no sound could be heard from inside the room. The air thick with a odor of horror. “I’ll lure it out” Tim’s cracking voice breaks the silence. He hesitantly made his way to the door. Tapped the blunt end of the machete on the top of the door frame. He takes a step back. Sweat pools in the small of my back. He turns to us, with frightened sigh, and turns back to the door. Tapping once more on the door frame. Just like before he takes a step back. Listening carefully for movement. 30 seconds pass. He steps forward, putting his free hand on the door, and leaned inside. In a split second a arm grabs him by the neck and pulls it self on top of Tim. The undead man sunk its teeth into the back of his scalp before we could even move. Crack. The attackers head jerks forward, a hole blown through it. His body slumps down. Tim’s falls with it. Blood erupts from the wound inflicted on Tim. James lowers his rifle, rushing over to Tim. I stand, soaking in the events that just took place. I inch the revolver out of my pocket. As my hand slides around the grip a sense of safety soothes over my body.

I knelt down next to Tim. His skin slowly turning pale. Blood soaking into the concrete in which he laid his head. The life-force leaking from his body like a broken pipe. His breathing forced. His breathing evaporating. His body launched into convulsions, and his eyes closed.