Utterly Mad

Night had come by the time Foster returned to Walkerville. It was still busy but the noise had died down at this point leaving him in an odd silence as he walked. He’d say he hated the silence but in truth he didn’t..he quite simply couldn’t. So he simply retrieved his bag from where TJ had stored their equipment and made his way to a secluded corner.

Foster contemplated his day. Overall it had been about as productive as he thought it would have been.The attack was unexpected but provided him with some interesting samples to test at the very least. So he pulled out his cigarettes and lit one as he sat there thinking. It wasn’t long before he fell asleep with the cigarette still lit in his mouth.

The next morning TJ woke up to the sound of a plate being set in front of him. Looking up he saw Bolt sit down across from him and say “Is time to wake, work starts soon.”

TJ took the plate and started to eat as he said “I don’t have any work yet. I’ve asked but I keep getting told that they don’t know how to pay me.”

Bolt shrugged “No money here, lot of paper in my bag that says I’m owed though. Will be work when they find something to use as scrip.”

The pair ate the rest of their meal in silence before Bolt retrieved the parts for the airgun and TJ produced the rest of it. Within the hour they had it working properly and a tank of air filled for TJ to use. As Bolt scurried of to work TJ took a pair of metal rings and tightened them around the air tank and hooked them to a leather strap he had setup to wrap around his waist.

The canister was small enough to comfortably fit on his back with his backpack on top of it. The air rifle itself was not dissimilar to an actual rifle in shape as was the intent. Railings on top of the rifle allowed him to mount optics and on the bottom to add a foregrip. At the pressure he had it set to it shot a lethal round quite a distance. And he had a set of barrels for two different kinds of ammo he’d prepared for it.

For now though he set it aside and walked outside. The sun was up but still low in the sky as he stretched and contemplated his day. He needed something to do he guessed.

Alexander, dressed now in an old leather jacket and jeans, walked towards Walkerville with his AK slung over one shoulder and a canteen of water in the other. His face was covered by the visor of the altyn helmet he’d carried with him and a black balaclava.

For a moment he stopped and stared at a zombie limping towards walkerville as well. It didn’t know why it was going there just that it sounded like food was in that direction. “So my friend, we have the same destination? But what was your story? Who were you?”

Alexander’s left eye faintly glowed a golden yellow as he saw the zombie not as what it was but who it had been. A doctor, he’d been out with friends when it had happened. They’d all made it a few days before the zombies found them holed up in his friend’s cabin. He’d vomited after shooting his best friend in the head after he started to turn. And then he’d finally given up.


Alexander clipped the canteen back to his belt and retrieved an internally suppressed pistol. The sound was so quiet he doubted anyone would have heard the gunshot that ended the zombie.  As the last of its life left the body Alexander’s eye stopped glowing. Soon enough he’d be at the bridge and would hopefully be able to bring some help to kill the cultists.