The zombie game

chapter 6

Thompson was a soldier.

He had fought in Iraq for two terms, driving back Al Qaeda and the Taliban before the virus had even been thought of. He worked as adviser to the president too, so he had been directly dispatched from the president to come to the aid of the people. And as he sat in the black hawk chopper, he thought of his tour of duty, of his life before this, before he had to survive. In truth, the military had never really known they would be placing a city under martial law, though they had practiced it many times before. He looked out the window, seeing the destruction that everybody had caused, the thin entrails of smoke curling up from the buildings that were now cinders. He saw the bodies that were piling up from a birds-eye view. Sea gulls and hawks flew around the area, spotting fresh meat that was just lying there on the ground and the birds dove, picking it off the flesh. Thompson looked back at Joe's sleeping face.

Joe had been asleep for quite a while. Nobody disturbed him. But now, they were reaching the military base. Or, what some of the other soldiers called and the president called a FEMA camp. Thompson shook Joe awake. At first, he was dazed, looking at the chair he had been sleeping in and wondering where he was. But when he heard the steady heartbeat of the choppers propellers his memory swam back to him. Joe looked down at the base, the spotlights propped on the roof of the building, several military trucks rushing in and out of the garage to the right, the long line of captured, innocent people like Joe. He felt a sudden sickness in his stomach as the chopper swooped down. He saw the ground coming in closer. He saw something flash right before him, a guard with soldier perched in it armed with a machine gun. The chopper landed on the roof, on the tarnished Helipad. Thompson grabbed Joe by the arm and led him off the chopper, into one of the buildings. The sudden cool air hit him. The place was sweet smelling, replacing the dead smell of rotting flesh and metallic blood.

He saw dozens of more soldier, unarmed, standing behind tables giving people some soup and bread as well as some other food. Nowadays everything was in rations. Joe looked around and saw people glum, disturbed, slowly speaking to friends and relatives who had escaped the virus...or the worst of it. Joe heard scattered conversation. Then his mind went off on its own.

I need to get out of this place. Sure it is nice, the food and all, but I need to protect the remainder of my friends who are still out there. As well as my family who have not yet gotten infected. The first opportunity to leave this place I am going to take. He walked to one of the tables, picking up a piece of bread and breaking it into several different pieces. He passed on the soup. He was already hot. Sweaty. He put the bread into his mouth. He bit into it and it felt like heaven. The sweetness of the bread exploded onto his tongue as he continued to chew. It rolled off his ton and down into his throat. He gobbled the rest of it down.

Thompson came back twenty minutes later, roughly grabbing Joe by the shoulder and dragging him through the soup kitchen part of the building. Minutes later he arrived in a dark room. The light flickered on. And a man, dressed in military fatigues, who was not Thompson, stepped forward, hand's behind his back. The man looked to be in his mid thirties, with small stubble on his chin, and smoothed down black hair.

"Hello Joe. I have been expecting you. I am Colonial Jacobson. I am part of this resistance force against the zombies that threaten us," Jacobson said. He held out his hand. Joe took it.

"I am Joe. The virus had come and taken my family from me...I only have a handful of friends and family back in the city. I need to go back there...I need to kill these damned zombies asses. I had been walled up in my house. That is until your boy Thompson unlawfully dragged me from my house and put me on that chopper. I would have much rather stayed to fight," explained Joe with great disdain staining his words.

"Well Joe, you are here for a reason. I have seen you are strong in hunting, so you know how to use a rifle. You went to weapons training and used a pistol, as well as some explosives. Is that right Joe?" asked Jacobson.