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EPISODE 4
"The Forbidden Zone"
Dale’s motorcycle
weaved down what had once been called Scottsville road. Time and dilapidation had left some potholes
and cracks that could easily have thrown him to his death, but he had driven
the stretch to the old downtown enough times to know where most of the real
dangers were. The junk of five decades
slowed him to a crawl in several areas.
Most of the town
wouldn’t have wasted precious fuel to drive to the Forbidden Zone, but the risk
had paid off many times. Dale made his
living stealing what others worked hard to collect, and he never had any
problem trading for fuel or killing for it.
It was pretty rare to
see other vehicles on this stretch of road since the work crews hadn’t got
around to clearing it. That made it much
more dangerous. Corpses were drawn to clutter. It was as if they knew their slow gait and rigor
mortis movements made them vulnerable.
Individually, they were easy to avoid, but if Dale was caught off guard
by a group in this graveyard of the old order, he wouldn’t stand a chance.
They were totally
silent other than what they bumped into or knocked over. The sound of the motorcycle could conceal
them until it was too late. Since he
couldn’t fight and drive, caution was his only defense. Periodically, he stopped and listened, even
turning off the engine at times.
Once Dale reached what
used to be called 31 W, the road was clear.
Clean-up crews had been working steadily for the last decade to get rid
of the debris. Nashville and Bowling
Green had created a large trade network and used the combined efforts of their
inhabitants to maintain a clear route between all the markets and businesses
that slowly rebuilt.
The motorcycle engine
revved up on the clean straightaway. The
rumbling engine, smoking from the tailpipe took him to the Forbidden Zone in
minutes.
On a side street next
to an abandoned Taco Bell three corpses mindlessly beat at a glass door. Dale slowed to get a better look as he
passed. The dead were drawn to the sound
of his engine and re-routed their drunken stagger toward him. He noticed they were fresh, not the skeletal
amblers with dried leathery skin anchoring their bones together. They leaked dark ooze from their eyes and
mouths. The shirtless one’s stomach had
either been cut open or ruptured from the decaying process, and a mess of
intestines slowly dripped out, one ringlet at a time.
He pulled his sawed off
shotgun from his saddlebag. The weapon
did more against his human foes, but it would slow the dead down enough that
they were no longer a threat.
Keeping the gun
leveled, Dale waited until they were about fifteen feet away. Their twisted faces twitched in anticipation
of the human flesh.
The first explosion of
the shotgun knocked the one with the open stomach down to the ground. It was on its back missing a leg at the
waist, a pool of blood rapidly gathering around it.
The next explosion
opened a crater in the center of the other one’s chest, somersaulting it
backwards into a mangled heap.
“Somebody must not have
put momma and daddy to rest properly.”
He mocked as he watched the corpses struggle to regain their feet. The legless one was down for the duration,
and the other was going to be a while until it could find something to pull on.
All the bodies in the
cemeteries had been exhumed and killed properly decades ago. These pieces of shit either found their way
out of the Forbidden Zone or somebody was in too big of a hurry to burn
them. He shoved his shotgun back in his
saddlebag and drove off down a dark street.
A few minutes later,
Dale killed the engine in the middle of street with ruined houses on both
sides. He was going to need to be quiet
to sneak up to the barrier unless he wanted his head blown off. The guards always shot to kill.
About fifty feet in
front of him, the road ended in a chain link fence re-enforced with logs and
old lumber. The barrier enclosed a three
mile area of the old downtown shopping area, and its sole purpose was to lock
in the dead. They had been drawn to the
clutter of the ruined Greenwood Mall and the shopping centers. The maze of debris had given them places to
hide and wait for looters in the beginning of the chaos. Their numbers grew as the newly deceased
stood up and joined them. It simply
became easier to lock them in.
Putting the kickstand
down, he drew his shotgun from the saddlebag as he whipped off the bike. In his empty hand he drew a large wooden
stake from the other saddlebag.
The moon gave some gray
to the street before him, but it didn’t do much for the dark buildings. Fall was weakening to the force of winter,
and Dale saw his breath as he stayed in the middle of the asphalt. Since the corpses moved slowly, he’d have
plenty of time to assess his options.
His survival instinct
suddenly flashed to life and the cold air against his bare arms was gone. Adrenaline warmed him instantly. The yellow dot of a flashlight came into view
on his right. The barrier patrol was
headed straight for him. There was no
time to lose. The patrol didn’t take
prisoners.
He ran for one of the
houses missing a front door. Dale’s map
said the bootlegger tunnel started from the basement and ended in the Forbidden
Zone.
Suddenly A voice boomed
out in the night with incredible volume.
“Halt! No one is permitted in the
Forbidden Zone!”
Dale ran faster. There was no longer a choice. He was running for his life. He went to the floor and began crawling as
fast as he could the moment he entered the house.
Automatic gun fire
blasted through the night. He could see
the glow of a flashlight coming from outside.
Dale backed up against the wall and peeked around the corner. He saw someone wearing a large backpack lit
up from the intersection of several bright lights. The person was thin with long hair. Their hands went up to shield their eyes.
Gunfire erupted in the
night. Sprays of meat and blood jumped
outward from the twirling, spasming body.
When death settled, the corpse dropped.
Dale readied his
shotgun. He would go down with barrel
blazing if they came for him. Voices
came from outside. They had gotten the
one they were chasing. His heart beat
with adrenaline fueled ecstasy when he realized they hadn’t seen him. The patrol was chasing someone else.
The hallway he was in
shown with the faint orange of what he knew was a large fire. Across from him on the wall was a picture of
a family. Their smiles looked sinister
in the glow of a death pyre.
# # #
Jimmy stopped running
between the ruins of two buildings. His
cold exhausted breath billowed from his lips in visible puffs. The embrace of night was fully upon the
land. He knew he was pushing his luck being
out and unarmed in this part of the old downtown.
His head cocked to the
right as he heard a barrage of automatic gunfire. It wasn’t down the street, but it wasn’t far
enough away for comfort either. For a
second his heart lifted. Maybe they had killed
Dale, finally put a bullet in the vicious son-of-a-bitch. Jimmy’s elation quickly passed. It was far more likely that they had just
sprayed a cluster of walking corpses looking for a way out of the contained
area. Either way, that sound let him know
the guards were on alert this evening, and he realized his shortcut through the
Forbidden Zone was even less of a good idea than usual.
On nights like tonight
his cabin on the outskirts of the settlement seemed so far away. Dropping to one knee, he pulled a long wooden
spear out from behind a pile of rubbish.
The deadly point was the result of someone shaving a tip onto the wood
with a very sharp blade. Rags were
wrapped tightly around the shaft just below the point.
Leaning the spear
against the wall next to him, Jimmy grabbed something on the ground. There was a brief strain in his muscles as he
pulled a short length of rope to open a crudely fashioned trapdoor that covered
an opening into the old sewage system.
Fetching a lighter from
his pocket, he flicked it giving rise to a small flame. Jimmy had hunted the lighters for years. An old man had told him what they were called
in the old world. They came apart
easily, so Jimmy refilled them with the alcohol fuel people made in their
stills.
The cloth easily lit,
and with his torch in hand, the teenager climbed below the earth. The cool metal tingled in his palm as he
lowered himself into the darkness. It
felt much cooler down below. He pulled
on the rope, slamming the trapdoor behind him.
The fire revealed he
was in a wide stone area with a low ceiling.
Jimmy only had to tilt his head a fraction to be comfortable. Garbage was everywhere. The human leg bones in his path were easily
kicked out of the way, but when his eyes caught site of the teeth marks on them
he felt a slight wave of anxiety. Being
this close to the Forbidden Zone was never without risk.
Hunching slightly, he
pointed his weapon into the darkness and moved ahead. If he moved quickly, he would be through the
Forbidden Zone in no time. He had the
shortest route memorized.
The silence in the
winding stone tunnels was only broken by the scurrying of rats and the splash
of disturbed puddles. Even though Jimmy
had taken the route hundreds of times, he never let complacency set in. The corpses were usually silent until it was
too late.
Meaningless graffiti
scrawled its way along the walls playing tricks in the periphery of the boy’s
vision. He jerked around several times
expecting to see an ambling dead man standing with a gaping maw. Silent zephyrs of foul smelling cavern breath
flickered the flaming rags on his spear to the point Jimmy feared he might lose
his light. He would be ready to strip off
his shirt and rekindle his torch. There
was no survival in the dark.
In the middle of one of
the flickers that nearly returned the sewer to darkness a sound echoed in the
distance. It was a reverberating of
sorts. Jimmy stood perfectly still and
listened with his entire body.
# # #
Dale’s directions led
him down a tight flight of stairs. The
faint glow of the fire dimmed with each step as he moved into the thickening
wall of gloom. Reaching out into the
darkness in front of him with his shotgun and his wooden lance made him
uncomfortable. There was no pretending
this little adventure wasn’t stupid.
Corpses lurked in the dark, and if he touched one unsuspectingly, it
would be on him and it would all be over.
As the map indicated,
he made his way across the room. The
door was in the corner where he expected it.
His fingers found the metal hinges.
The moment he touched the knob, his attention was drawn upstairs. Voices and boots made their way ungracefully
into the house.
“Look around! Carl said he saw another one run in here!”
The reply was a little
irritated. “Carl drinks more of our fuel
than he uses in the jeep.”
Dale got the joke. The few operating motors in the world had
been converted to run on plant and sugar based fuel that doubled as whiskey for
someone who didn’t mind walking. During
their conversation he eased open the door and slid into the unseen
chamber. He was crowded against boxes
and clothing, but the door shut him inside with little effort.
Suddenly, the stairs
came alive with heavy footfalls.
“It doesn’t look like
anyone has been down here in years.”
Dale felt his breathing
growing rapid and shallow. He feared he would give himself away.
“The Captain wants
everything checked out. You heard him as
well as I did.”
The other voice challenged. “This mysterious woman sneaking in the
Forbidden Zone doesn’t make any sense.”
“Don’t be stupid,
Adom. Why does anyone sneak in this hell
hole? To take shit, weapons, supplies,
all kinds of stuff from the old world.”
The one called Adom
wasn’t backing down. “Even the Captain
says she just looks around. Never comes
out with anything. If you ask me, it’s
just too many long hours.”
“Shut up and look over
there.”
Dale felt his blood run
cold. As quietly as he could he moved
back in the depths of the closet. He
pushed himself into the clothes in time to hear the door open. Perfectly still, he was between packed
jackets. There was fire light on the other side of the room.
The voices were so
close. His mouth was dry, and he could
feel moisture in his palms.
“It doesn’t matter if people bring anything
out of the Forbidden Zone. The law says
no one goes inside accept on Black Friday.
And that’s how it ought to be. That
place has more zombies crawling around than the whole city of Bowling
Green. We don’t need them getting out.”
Dale’s door
closed. The relief set his knees
shaking. He could hardly hold himself
up. The near miss increased his anxiety. He gripped his gun thinking his only option
was to kill his way out.
Their conversation
ended with mutual agreement that no one was in the house. It was many moments after Dale was sure they
were gone that he felt his body relaxing.
Feeling through the
closet he found the loose board in the back.
Just like he expected, three boards lifted out of place. The passage was barely big enough for him to
crawl through if he left his weapons behind.
# # #
The weathered boards surrendered
to the mass of the living dead. Skin
shredded from decayed hands and arms as they ripped their way past splintered
wood. The dead wave smashed forward into
the dark tunnel.
There was no more sound
as they ambled, no reveling in their success, no complaints about their ruined
flesh and broken bones. There was no
goal, no direction. The horde walked
where there was no barriers preventing their passage. The once goal-directed impulses that had
allowed them to navigate the world as living humans now operated in perversion,
propelling them without reason, without volition.
Darkness meant nothing
to them. Their shuffling gait was
unhindered by anxiety. Dead arms flailed
as they squeezed past each other to push through the narrow sewage
corridor. Their efforts to fight past
each other left smears of blood on gritty concrete walls.
Jimmy held his flaming
spear in front him to illuminate the distant darkness. It did not reveal the source of the
sound. Something had banged and
cracked. He faced the pile of junk
blocking the cylindrical stone passage that headed back toward the surface.
The stack of heavy
debris had obviously been placed intentionally.
It had been some time since Jimmy had taken this route home. Another traveler must have feared pursuit by
the living dead.
Keeping his eyes
trained on the gloomy passage before him, his free hand groped at an old metal
mattress frame. Thoughtlessly, he flung
it away. He dragged several large flimsy
springs out from in front of the metal ladder mounted in the concrete.
Jimmy recognized the
approaching footfalls. His choices
battled in his swirling mind. Run back the
way he’d come. He could move forward and
try his luck in battle, but advancing on the dead was as foolish of a move as
he could make. His hand pulled blindly
at the waste of the old world to get a path to the exit.
His light cast a sickly
glow on a moving blur of pale. Three
bloody-faced, sallow corpses staggered forward with hands outstretched. Jimmy had to force himself to pull away a
wooden box, so he could get closer to the exit.
His legs wanted to run. His hands
wanted to thrust his flaming spear. He
knew it was exit or death.
Their advance came
faster than he suspected. His spear
struck outward, exploding through the rotten skull of the lead corpse. It fell to its knees when the teenager
withdrew his weapon, and then it toppled over perfectly still.
His spear pierced the
other in the throat. Blood spilled down
its front, and Jimmy had to shake the weapon violently to get it free.
The bottleneck the three
lead zombies had created in the tunnel mouth was now broken, allowing the mass
to spill forward. Jimmy fought their
advance with his spear. His anxiety at
being eaten alive rendered his blows ineffective. His only chance was the exit tunnel.
The undead bobbed and
wobbled around him. Their hands and
snapping teeth reached out for him.
Jimmy moved backwards preventing them from closing the circle around
him. His only chance against these
numbers was an exit path.
His hands released his
weapon, and the fire went out when it hit the floor.
Jimmy threw himself in
the last place he recalled seeing the ladder.
His leg hit something sharp, and a fiery pain burned inside him. The touch of lifeless, fingers thrust against
him. Instinct forced a swing of his arm
before he launched himself up the ladder.
It was pure luck he hadn’t been bitten.
Jimmy wasn’t stopping to test his luck.
His arms and legs
propelled him up into the darkness. The
zombies were below him moving wildly.
The pain in his leg exploded through his adrenaline, and he lost his
grip. More shooting pain raced through
him as his wounded leg smashed against the metal rung. The surge of agony made him cry out
loud. At the top of the tunnel the cover
refused to move against his thrusting arms.
He slammed upward against the cover with his shoulder. He slammed again keenly aware of the creatures
below him slapping at the ladder.
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