The Dawn of a New Age: Act 1/Chapter 4

Act 1: Armageddon
Chapter 4: Running Away (To Fight Again Someday)
As written by RememberMe (Joseph Michael Schultz)

Well, as I'd expected, the parking garage was indeed filled to the brim with former friends. Sadly, though I had fond memories of some of them, at least three, maybe more; they themselves seemed to remember very little of me. Instead, they took to the corridors and deeply shadowed distances with guns in hand. BIG GUNS. Hell, I think a few of 'em were sporting some Thompsons, and that's always a bad day and a half. Man, why the fuck don't we hide criminal confiscated weapons better? I mean, we're cops, right? And you never really know when someone might try to brain control the entire police force, right? Happens every Tuesday...

So yeah, as you might have guessed from my babble, I'm kind of losing it. I'm going insane, cuckoo, nuts, losing my marbles, and every other clever little metaphor you can think of that might state or describe the degradation of my rationality. All of this was happening so fast, I barely had any time to react to it all. However, the same couldn't be said of Ed. Oh no, not at all. The moment he'd learned of some possible future payback, a chance at returning 'the favor', he literally leapt at the opportunity; arms and legs flailing as he flew. He jumped into the garage and started putting smokin' holes in every zombified bastard that dared to shoot back at him. He was lucky to have been born a massive turtle, because that shell seemed to protect him from nearly every supersonic bullet that whizzed by; loud thunderclaps sounding as the shards of metal bounced off of his indestructible hide. Caliber didn't seem to matter much; pistol, assault rifle, and shotgun rounds all failed to pierce his natural armor. Ed must have known that the enemies assaulting his flank were exercising an act of futility, because he completely and utterly ignored them, focusing instead on hostile targets that he could see. While all of this happened, I simply stood there just trying to sort my thoughts, wondering what our next course of action should be after we successfully escape the station. Ed, however, took to the matter at hand and proceeded to stampede his enormous blue ass further down the garage. Displaying the sharpened skills of a veteran cop, he methodically aimed and carefully took out all of his remaining frontal targets, picking off each guy that stood within his field of vision. Then, as he emptied a second clip into one of the drooling zombo-cops, he spun around on his heel with far more grace and skill than a man his size had any right to be doing, placing four more bullets into the body of a sprinting enemy. The dead man set one more foot forward before falling limp and lifeless, floundering to the ground like a wet bag of gardening soil.

“Kilbane!” trumpeted the Chief angrily as he slid another clip into his handgun. “Where do you get off giving me an enlightening speech and motivation, a dim ray of hope for the future, then immediately freeze up once some real action starts?! Dammit, boy, if this is a war for salvation and survival, as you've lead me to believe, then get your ass in gear before I leave it behind!”

Ed's words hit me like a car and I shook my head as I tried to gather my thoughts. Brandishing my miniature hand-cannon, I replied, “I'm sorry, Ed, it's nothing; just had some thoughts rushing around!”

“Damn well better be nothing!” growled my superior. “Between the two of you, I pegged you as the dependable one! As far as I go, that's a complement; don't make me retract it!”

“Yes sir.” I said with a shrug, rolling my eyes and finally back to my senses.

Slamming his shoulder into mine with an irritated sneer, Ed took the lead and motioned for Willy and I to fall into line behind him. That's part of our charm; how well we all get along. The garage seemed to have suffered some kind of power outage, seeing as how every third and fourth light were either completely off or flickering violently. Broken shadows flashed across the poorly lit environment; perfect targets for jittery, untrained rookies with unstable trigger fingers. Luckily, the adrenaline rush must still have been working its way through Will's fiery veins, because he maintained focused all the way through. Moving in a semi-circle, we covered as many directions as we possibly could, keeping watch for any and all enemy movement. And at the end of it all, at the end of the darkened path, sat two armored S.W.A.T. dispatch vans. Our four-wheel-drive, quarter inch steel plated, tickets to freedom were finally sitting right before us. About fucking time...

“Alright!” I shouted; taking charge. “Let's salvage the supplies, weapons, ammunition, and armor from the second van! Remember, the streets are totally flooded with crazed rioters, so we'll be faced with a fairly sizable obstacle course on our way to the train station!”

“They'll all be trying to kill us?” questioned Will meekly.

With angry eyes, Ed answered, “From what I saw out the windows and in the lobby, they're all trying to kill us, but they're also slaughtering each other too. They just seem to band together and fight as a unit whenever they run across anyone who isn't infected with whatever disease or insanity this is. It's like they can instinctively tell whenever uninfected people are around; some kind of sixth sense of something.”

“Yeah, that sounds about right.” I responded as I flung open one of the van's reinforced back hatches. “Kiev said that the guy behind all of this only wants to end the world; no interest whatsoever in taking control of it. Causing riots and mass hysteria, even his own pawns killing other pawns; it all makes sense if it's just Armageddon that he's after. I mean, if you're gonna destroy the whole fuckin' planet, why bother leaving any henchmen behind?”

“That's insane.” muttered Will quietly.

“And it's also logical.” growled the Chief, rubbing his face exhaustedly with one huge hand. “Insane, but logically insane. Trust me, these are the worst foes to go up against. Completely out of touch with reality, no shred of remorse, dedicated and willing to die so long as it means finishing their plans through to the end. If we're not careful, taking care of this psychopath may well result in three fresh graves.”

The three of us traded stern and frightened glances, then proceeded to pile into one of the vans. Will and I reloaded our weapons and peered through the slot in the back hatch, the small steel hole that allows for one or two men to lay down coving fire when totally surrounded. With Ed at the wheel, this promised to be one Hell of a wild ride, not even including all of the mind-controlled zombies that were absolutely sure to litter our path the entire way to our destination.

With a loud rumble, the beast of a van quaked to life and roared as the Chief slammed down on the gas. I was fairly aware of his plan from the start and braced myself for impact. Will watched me like an observant owl and immediately mimicked my actions, bracing his scaly hands against the walls as well. Surging forward, the van crashed through the folding metal doors that closed off the garage from public access, rocketing into the street like a ballistic missile. Ed howled as he drove, shouting profanities at the raging rioters that stood in our way. He attempted to avoid as many as he could, but damn, there must have been more than a couple thousand steadily surrounding us. Looking back to the station, I saw several bottles of gin and whiskey flying through the air towards it; Molotov cocktails.

“It's a good thing we made it out of there when we did!” I exclaimed. “Looks like they were planning on slow roasting us over an open fire!”

“Stay focused!” Ed trumpeted in return; sharply jerking the steering wheel to the right. “If we're not careful, they might still get a chance at cooking us in this convenient metal oven we've stolen!”

Wincing from the thought of that and the image it brought to mind, I replied, “Understood, sir! Returning to defensive duties!”

I traded queasy, uncertain glances with Will and tried to sweep my fear back under the carpet that is my subconscious. I was successful, more or less, but still needed a beer and a smoke more than ever. I shut my eyes for a brief moment and focused hard, collecting all of my strength and confidence, heaping together all of my bulletproof nerve, and forced myself to stop shaking. When I opened my eyes, the first thing I took notice of was Will, trembling horribly but still holding his gun and faithfully keeping watch. Small metallic, clanking noises could sometimes be heard as his weapon unsteadily slapped against the sides of the gunman's slot. His eyes were bloodshot from over-stimulation, the once roaring fire of his tail had shrunk nearly to the size of a candle's flame, and his whole body quivered and shook with fright. He looked terrible, true, but he didn't look dead. Not yet.

“Will.” I said calmly, slowly. I didn't turn away from my position, but I did place a hand on his shoulder to comfort him. “Take a breather, man, I've got this under control. You look like Hell came and festered for a couple months, just sit down for a minute and collect yourself.”

Nervously nodding his reptilian head, big emotional eyes looking on the verge of tears, the young man holstered his gun and sat down on one of the steel interior benches. It had to happen eventually; adrenaline doesn't last forever. The sheer gravity of the situation was finally hitting him, the prospect of imminent death, and he wasn't taking it well. Clasping his face between two shaking hands, Will rapidly began inhaling and exhaling, steadily becoming more composed over time. I turned my head around in time to spot the bright yellow glow of his tail flicker and waver, then brighten and once again increase in size. Will wiped the water from his eyes, pulled his hands away from his face, drew his gun, and rejoined me at the back hatch.

“Are you steady?” I pried, trying my hardest to smile warmly. “Everything sorted out?”

With a shrug of his shoulders, Will carefully aimed his pistol out through the steel slot and replied in a shuddering laugh, “As steady as I'll ever be.”

That's when the brakes kicked in; the sounds of crunching rubber shredding to pieces against hot asphalt. It caught both Will and I by surprise and threw around haphazardly, bashing us against the walls as though we were riding in a washing machine. The loud thump of landing feet accompanied by the slamming of a heavy car door followed the still echoing screech of the brakes; all eventually joined by a hearty grunt as someone threw open the back hatch from outside. Ed stood there, clutching his shotgun in one hand, a riot shield in the other, and a massive scowl stretched across his face.

“Well, ladies, we're here.” he growled as he loaded the shotgun. I have to admit, he looked pretty damn scary. Enormous cerulean turtle with an equally sizable gun; yeah, scary. “Get what all you need and join me at the stairs leading inside. Fortunately, nearly all of the rioters are clustered around the center of the town, around where the station... used to be. We may be able to escape Saffron without facing another firefight.”

Mentioning the 1st Branch Station visibly taxed him. It was, after all, his second home.

“Right.” I said forcefully as I stood up from the jarring I'd received. “Let's get out of here, and quick.”

Gathering all of the necessary supplies, we marched our way into the train terminal like we owned the place, though still maintaining a defensive semi-circular perimeter. We are professionals, after all. But sadly, as we entered the main lobby and carefully stepped over the decapitated corpses of what looked to be former guards, a shrill sound erupted from every direction. Alarm lights flashed red in the hallways, reflecting brightly off of the faux marble floor. A small stampede of footsteps clattered towards us from multiple points of origin. Apparently, Ed needed to brush up on his hunches, because we clearly had company. Very, very bad company.