The Dead Among Us (Chapter 5: Eye on the Prize)
The streets are lonely these days. It seems it only took five days for all hell that had broken loose to finally settle down. I guess everything crashes eventually.Walking down the lane, I find not a soul-- living or dead-- walking along with me to some unknown place. I am forsaken. I always am. But at least this time, no body used me for their own gain before casting me away. No, this is my decision. I walk alone this time, wishing for no man's company.I stop for a moment, gazing into a parlor window at my own figure; petite, I suppose, but not too small. Fine hips, I'd say, and a chest most men gawk over. There's a stray red lock running from my hairline, past the bridge of my nose, to the middle of my right cheek, drenched with sweat. That's just it; Galveston, as you know, is a very humid place, being enveloped by the ocean. I grip my hatchet and brush the lock out of my face before moving on. There's cars flipped and slammed into buildings or telephone poles, smoke rising from distant buildings. I look behind me, back at the Pleasure Pier.Pleasure Pier, my ass. None of the rides were any fun compared to the stuff they had in San Diego. Why, I remember a specific...Sorry, I'm beginning to get off track.I swivel my ears around after hearing the shuffling of what sounded like papers. Darting my eyes about, I find nothing. I decide to speed up my pace, moving down the street with great haste. I hear a distant voice, one of beckoning, and my eyes widen. I had to find where it was coming. Breaking into a jog, I begin making my way towards the voice. I see a local police cruiser parked in the middle of the road with the lights-- amazingly-- still flashing. The driver's side door is still open, and the CB Radio sounds off with an amicable, soft, and gentle voice. "... Now, I for one think it's no coincidence. After all, he's been struck by lightning before, see? But anyways, repairs are underway for the reception building, so we should be getting along rather quickly soon and be able to take in survivors at a faster rate." I sat down in the driver's seat, closed the door, and hunted for the switch that would turn off the bright lights. I found it and flicked it down before taking a good long moment to listen."Right, moving on. Ahem... If you're just tuning in, my name is Doctor Gale Pahvoth. I'm speaking to you from Fort Brazos, now completely liberated from the undead and under protection from both our brave warriors of the United States Army, and the citizens of this country."Allow me to point something out, something that many of you may be finding difficult to believe: We are all humans. Those of us that are alive, we are obligated to join together as Americans, and as human beings, citizens of this world. All is not lost, not yet. We still have hope in each other."Fort Brazos is now a safe zone for the living, and the Pearly Gates for the dead and the unworthy. There is such a thing.
There are those out there that would seek to destroy us, for their own "benefit." But it wouldn't be in their best interest; they'd only be screwing themselves over. We are duty bound as citizens of this country to band together against all forms of aggression, both foreign and domestic. In a way, we're up against both; a foreign disease, and a domestic assault on the living, breathing human race. Those looking for haven, Fort Brazos will give you just that. This is a place where humanity can rebuild."Anyways. I wanted to just tell you how we're doing today. I'm speaking to you now, live, from the radio station in Fort Brazos. Our leader is retired Army Special Forces captain Storm Stone, with his second being Chief Warrant Officer Jonathan Taylor-- but people just call him Jack."I don't believe it. That son of a bitch is still alive? I remember our time together in Russia. That bastard was the best man I had ever met. To hear now that he's still alive brings joy to my heart, because now I know there's at least somewhere I can go. I pick up the microphone for the CB and click the "transmit" button, and bring it to my lips. "Hello?" I call out gently. "This is Natasha Zhukov, calling Fort Brazos, come in Fort Brazos, over." I wait for a second, and then I hear over the radio, "Hold on folks, we've got an incoming caller. Natasha, say hello to our audience. Where are you now Natasha? Need any help?""I don't have time for this," I grunt. "I need to talk to Jack, please. Tell him an old friend from Saint Petersburg needs to talk to him. He'll know." "Hah, okay," he tells me, responding in a friendly way. "I'll fetch him, ma'am, don't you worry. Give me a moment." He goes off air for a good half a minute, before coming back online. "Natasha, still there?""Affirmative," I retort. I lean back in my seat, sighing. Blayt. Thing might actually be looking up for me. "Okay," he tells me. "Jack is currently on his way, he'll be hear in two minutes, don't worry. So, Natasha, where are you now?" Then something slams on the glass of my window. A biter. I look up, snarling, and put down the mic, not responding. "Natasha?" I ignore him, and grab my hatchet before shoving the door open and the biter back. It's a teenager from the looks of it, a feline of sorts with a jagged tear in it's right-- er, left-- cheek that literally runs all the way to it's ear. It tries to get up and I shove my boot into its face. It would've been a handsome young boy if it had survived longer than it did. I keep my boot planted firmly on its chest before slamming my blade down into its face. I hop back into the police cruiser and look around for the key. The keys to the car were in the center console for a strange reason, and sliding them into the ignition, I was actually able to start the car after a few tries. It has to have been standing here for a while. I pull into reverse before sliding into
drive and pushing the Charger forward. The radio is still going on. I take my right paw off of the gear shift and respond, "Going offline, out." I turn off the CB and put my foot on the gas. I only just got my license to drive two years ago, since I was always afraid of cars. I won't delve into why, but driving and vehicles in general make me rather nervous. I approached the bridge between Galveston and the Mainland, and I saw nothing but utter chaos. Trying to maneuver between cars wasn't easy in the least sense, so I killed the engine, grabbed my hatchet, and got out. Look's as though I'll be on foot from here on out.