don’t remember me, but I’ve been here for a couple months with my son, Vince.”
Kelly heard the words, and summoned a lucid response. “Thanks for helping with the door. We couldn’t have held it without you.”
“We all would have died. No thanks necessary. Thank you . My son and I would be long dead without you and Dr. Thomson,” Nicole replied.
Kelly sat quietly as she struggled to form the words. “Dr. Thomson’s dead.” A tear began to streak down her cheek.
Nicole sat quietly nodding for a minute, a look of sadness on her face, “Yeah, he was a great man.”
“Mom?” A child’s voice rang out.
Kelly and Nicole looked over to the door. A small child, about five years old, stood peeking out.
“There’s a dead man talking in Dr. D’s office.” The child continued.
Kelly and Nicole looked at each other in confusion and then in fear. The living dead didn’t talk, but the child could have heard a sound from a newly risen ghoul that he mistook for words. Panic drove the women to their feet despite their exhaustion, and they marched back into the clinic.
The families had all retreated back into the living areas that they had called home – minus the cots and furniture. Small groups sat huddled under blankets on the floor, recovering from the night. As they made their way down the hallway to Dr. Thomson’s office, Kelly could hear a familiar voice. “Hello? Hello? Is anyone out there?”
She passed the barricade still piled in the hall. It was by no means impenetrable considering the condition of the door beneath it, but it would defend against a small handful of zombies. As long as they remained quiet, that should be all the protection they would need. Another undead frenzy, however, would spell doom for everyone unless a backup plan was developed quickly.
Kelly entered the room and looked around. Two dead bodies lay on the ground. Blood pooled beneath them, and they stared back at her with lifeless eyes. They were soldiers – men who had provided DDC security for months as the world fell apart. They had stayed at their posts and given their lives for her and the few remaining survivors.
The grenades clipped to the soldiers’ vests were gone. Dr. Thomson had intended on taking as many ghouls with him as he could, and grenades were not only a loud distraction that would catch the ghouls’ attention, but they were also a good way to avoid a painful death by tooth and claw.
“Hello? Hello? Is anyone out there?” The voice of Private Stenson repeated over a walkie-talkie the dead soldier had fixed to his belt.
Kelly grabbed the radio, and pressed the button. “Private Stenson? Is that you?”
“Dr. D?” Stenson asked with a mixture of relief and confusion.
“It’s me,” Kelly answered. “Where are you?”
Private Stenson paused for a moment as if considering where he was. “I’m in the sound-proof office with two civvies. What the hell happened? Where are you?”
“I’m upstairs in the clinic with almost twenty people.” Kelly answered. “How’s the situation down there?”
“Situation isn’t great, but we’re alive and no one’s bit,” Stenson answered.
“We have to figure out a way to get you up here.” Kelly realized that there may be other civilians trapped in the music store offices.
“I’m open to ideas, Dr. D. There’s a shit-ton of those dead fuckers down here,” Stenson replied. “Unless you have a plan, we might be stuck down here for a while.”
Chapter 11
The suburbs of San Diego were always much quieter than downtown. Where the densely packed population of the city had resulted in an apocalyptic urban environment of cramped oppression, the suburbs always maintained a sharp contrast - quiet and lifeless. Ghouls roamed the streets, yards, and sidewalks alone or in small packs. Carl hated the tranquility– it was seductive and comforting…and made it impossible to keep your guard up. The adrenaline had left him, and his mind drifted to
Kelly heard the words, and summoned a lucid response. “Thanks for helping with the door. We couldn’t have held it without you.”
“We all would have died. No thanks necessary. Thank you . My son and I would be long dead without you and Dr. Thomson,” Nicole replied.
Kelly sat quietly as she struggled to form the words. “Dr. Thomson’s dead.” A tear began to streak down her cheek.
Nicole sat quietly nodding for a minute, a look of sadness on her face, “Yeah, he was a great man.”
“Mom?” A child’s voice rang out.
Kelly and Nicole looked over to the door. A small child, about five years old, stood peeking out.
“There’s a dead man talking in Dr. D’s office.” The child continued.
Kelly and Nicole looked at each other in confusion and then in fear. The living dead didn’t talk, but the child could have heard a sound from a newly risen ghoul that he mistook for words. Panic drove the women to their feet despite their exhaustion, and they marched back into the clinic.
The families had all retreated back into the living areas that they had called home – minus the cots and furniture. Small groups sat huddled under blankets on the floor, recovering from the night. As they made their way down the hallway to Dr. Thomson’s office, Kelly could hear a familiar voice. “Hello? Hello? Is anyone out there?”
She passed the barricade still piled in the hall. It was by no means impenetrable considering the condition of the door beneath it, but it would defend against a small handful of zombies. As long as they remained quiet, that should be all the protection they would need. Another undead frenzy, however, would spell doom for everyone unless a backup plan was developed quickly.
Kelly entered the room and looked around. Two dead bodies lay on the ground. Blood pooled beneath them, and they stared back at her with lifeless eyes. They were soldiers – men who had provided DDC security for months as the world fell apart. They had stayed at their posts and given their lives for her and the few remaining survivors.
The grenades clipped to the soldiers’ vests were gone. Dr. Thomson had intended on taking as many ghouls with him as he could, and grenades were not only a loud distraction that would catch the ghouls’ attention, but they were also a good way to avoid a painful death by tooth and claw.
“Hello? Hello? Is anyone out there?” The voice of Private Stenson repeated over a walkie-talkie the dead soldier had fixed to his belt.
Kelly grabbed the radio, and pressed the button. “Private Stenson? Is that you?”
“Dr. D?” Stenson asked with a mixture of relief and confusion.
“It’s me,” Kelly answered. “Where are you?”
Private Stenson paused for a moment as if considering where he was. “I’m in the sound-proof office with two civvies. What the hell happened? Where are you?”
“I’m upstairs in the clinic with almost twenty people.” Kelly answered. “How’s the situation down there?”
“Situation isn’t great, but we’re alive and no one’s bit,” Stenson answered.
“We have to figure out a way to get you up here.” Kelly realized that there may be other civilians trapped in the music store offices.
“I’m open to ideas, Dr. D. There’s a shit-ton of those dead fuckers down here,” Stenson replied. “Unless you have a plan, we might be stuck down here for a while.”
Chapter 11
The suburbs of San Diego were always much quieter than downtown. Where the densely packed population of the city had resulted in an apocalyptic urban environment of cramped oppression, the suburbs always maintained a sharp contrast - quiet and lifeless. Ghouls roamed the streets, yards, and sidewalks alone or in small packs. Carl hated the tranquility– it was seductive and comforting…and made it impossible to keep your guard up. The adrenaline had left him, and his mind drifted to
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