Darkest Hour (Book 3 of Dark Night)

Three months ago, if you would have told me all this would have happened, I would have called you crazy. Ironically, now everybody has gone crazy. It had been roughly two and a half months since the White House collapsed. I should be dead…. And now, I only know one thing. Those…things... they deserve no remorse, no pity, just a bullet in the head.
It was dark. So dark I could not see my hand a foot from my face. I pulled my flashlight out of my combat vest. I opened the door to the now destroyed White House. I readied my 1911 sidearm. If there was one thing I had learned, it is that these things don’t hesitate. And neither will I.
I was lucky enough to have been a secret service agent before the fall of society. It had given me access to weapons others didn’t have, leading to them being bit, scratched, and turning into another one of these undead monsters. Of course, these munitions were not unlimited, and someday I would be forced to run. But before that day, I plan to take as many down with me as possible.
I stepped into the dark hall. I walked down the hallway, pointing my flashlight at the ground, taking extra care not to step on a corpse… for I have no idea which one is dead, and which is seemingly part dead. I screwed the silencer on my pistol, and started putting bullets into every head I saw that didn’t already have a hole through it. Most of the bodies were fellow secret service agents. “You deserved better than this,” I said aloud, looking down at the unrecognizable body of my captain. I only recognized his body by the ID I found on his bloodstained wallet. They hadn’t lasted long. While all this happened, I was unconscious in a bush, just had fallen out of a two story window. Before I hit the ground, I heard a gunshot from the room I had fallen from, it wasn’t mine, nor any gun I know used by the secret service. This was my last thought and everything had gone black.
I now walked up the stairs, and into the room I last remembered seeing. I was terrified at what I would find, or what I wouldn’t find. I kicked the door down, and immediately swept the room with my pistol in hand. I checked under a desk. Sure enough, he was there. With a Revolver in hand, and a bullet hole straight through his brain, the President lay. I couldn’t believe it, I had tried so hard, nearly got myself killed, protecting him, just to find him dead by a self inflicted bullet wound. I looked over at the broken window. In my rage, I threw the desk out the window. In a second I knew I should not have done that, as it made a loud crash. They would be coming. That is my cue to leave, I thought.
I ran back through the building, arriving at the front door to see one hobbling its way over. I easily ran around it, but in downtown D.C, thousands roamed the streets. I ran over to an old Ford Pickup. I had plenty of cars to choose from, but this one crushes them like no other. I started to hotwire the engine. I looked over. The one undead dead person had brought friends, at least 30 of them. The engine proved to be louder than I hoped. I floored it. I had to get out of D.C. One group of survivors I had found had told me of a rumored safe haven in Baltimore. Right now, I had no other options.
I made it out of D.C. With relatively no problems, and got on I 195 towards Baltimore. This truck had terrible MPG, and I was afraid I would soon have to walk if I did not find a car to siphon gas from. Always get the worse one I can. As if on cue, the back right tire popped. I drove on. Within five minutes, I was driving on three tires, and one rim. Reluctantly, I pulled over.
I was stranded. The sound of the rim grinding against the asphalt would lure them, slow as they may be. The gas was also low, as if I needed another problem to deal with. I got out, grabbed my duffel bag that was full of guns and ammunitions. I had cleared out any place I could find before going back to the white house. The thought of it brought yet another bad memory to me.
I checked my watch. The President would be meeting with Kennedy by now. I ran up the stairs. I am sure he had no idea what was going on, or what Kennedy would do to him. I turned the corner to see Kennedy going towards the president, who sat there watching. I was just out of his line of sight, and I hoped the bullet wouldn’t hit him. I raised my gun, aimed it at the small of Kennedy’s back, and pulled the trigger.
I had my map laid out over the tailgate of the truck. I was about 3 miles out from Baltimore. I decided it would be safest to walk it. I folded the map, put it into the bag, and started walking. The knowledge that one day this would happen to me, one way or another, seemed to way me down as I walked. I heard rustling in the tree line. “You have got to be kidding me,” I exclaimed, frustrated at the world itself for screwing me over. I broke into a run. They were close behind.
I had no choice, it would only attract more, but I had to. I reached behind me into my duffel bag; pulled out an M67 fragmentation grenade, pulled the pin, dropped it, and ran. I dove behind a truck so I would not be hit by any stray fragments. I pulled out a .44 caliber magnum to finish the rest. There were two strays, and I put a magnum shot into their brains. Their brains splattered onto the truck behind them. I kept running, running past anything that tried to grab me. I slid over a truck’s hood and kept running. I figured I would be about a mile and a half from Baltimore. Seeing the distant skyline within the trees, I ran off the road, into the woods.
I had no sense of direction. Go straight. I kept telling myself I was going in the right direction, even if I didn’t believe it myself. I did not want to be trapped in here, so I screwed a silence onto my 1911 handgun. Silence would be the key to making it out of here alive. I was smart enough not to start popping caps every time a tree rustled, but I still would jump and point my gun at the tree. I had not shot 7 bullets when I emerged into the fading daylight. Even though it was a rumored safe haven, I pulled out my Remington rifle. Better safe than sorry.
I checked my watch. It was about 5:00 when I entered the city. All seemed quiet. I looked up at the skyline, remembering how busy this city was 4 months ago when I had visited, escorting the VP. There didn’t seem to be any. I turned the corner at Light Street, and I looked up at the Transamerica tower. Life Insurance…Ironic. Then I saw one of them. I aimed my scope down the street, preparing to take the shot. Then another walked around the corner. There were ten more before I could blink. If I die here, I might as well take out as many as I can before it happens. I took the shot.
Within seconds they all looked over at me. I slung the rifle over my back and grabbed my Mossberg 500 shotgun. I pumped it, aimed down the sights, and waited. I let of a shell into ones head, pumped and took out another’s knee. It crawled towards me, and I stomped it before it got too close. I continued firing shells until I had to reload. There was no time, I took out my 1911, pulled the silencer off and started shooting. I took another 7 down before I realized I had been shooting. I pulled another magazine out of my vest and loaded it into the pistol. They kept coming.
I could not hold out much longer. I was running out of munitions and time. I saw a car by the side of the building. I made note of it, but there was no time. I ran into the tower and onto the steps. As I ran backwards up the steps, I shot them coming towards me. I stopped at the 25th floor. I ran through the halls, knocking over desks, bookshelves, anything that could slow them down. I realized this was my end. I stopped at a window over Light Street, and I saw the car far below. I hated to say it, but it was my only chance. I had to jump. There was a ledge across the way that I may be able to grab on to and crawl down.
I was hesitant. I turned around, and started firing off a few more shells. As bad as it sounds, this seems more calming than thinking about jumping out of a 25th floor of a building. This time I didn’t think. I jumped. Right as I jumped the air around me exploded. I had just enough time to aim myself towards the car. I was engulfed in flames. Everything went black.