Thomas Santeri: Age 25. Thomas has held an interest in the performing arts nearly his entire life. A semi-accomplished actor, Thomas has a good memory and excellent improvisational skills. He calls his scathing pessimism realism and is a skeptic with a checkered past. Gets the least sleep.

Brooke Arnakis: Age 24. A gifted young musician, Brooke had been travelling with friends when the outbreak threw everything into chaos. A stubborn optimist, Brooke refuses to let tough times get to her and prides herself on keeping morale high when the apocalypse often keeps it so low. Whether that makes her an inspiration or a moron is up to interpretation. Got the highest grades in school.

Cpl. Christian Thorn: Age 26. A special forces officer with a strong bond with Sgt. Header. Thorn is friendly and generally good natured, a patriotic idealist. He has a complicated past with famed terrorist Alex Silvin and doesn’t like to talk about his life before joining the military. Always the cleanest shaven.

Sgt. Brysen Header: Age 41. A seasoned veteran and good friend to Cpl. Thorn. Header has been on tour more times than he can count. He rarely shows emotion and focuses on doing his job above all else. An excellent shot and a pragmatic soldier, he is a good ally to have in such dire times. He smokes heavily. Uses the most apostrophes while talking.

Lt. Zed Moore: Age 34. A high-ranking officer and leader of the squad, Moore is a capable soldier. He is good with numbers and thinks quickly and effectively even while under gunfire. Some call him “the buff nerd”. He is respected by everyone on the team but is less of a superhero when off the job. Has the most trouble talking to girls.

Stacey Baker: Age 19. Stacey is a self-proclaimed “just a normal gal” who never goes anywhere without her red baseball cap. Typically bubbly and spontaneous, Stacey is endearing to some and annoying to others. She likes sleeping a lot more than she likes mornings. Stacey doesn’t like to be touched and suffers from numerous phobias. The most crazy about sports.

Jaxson Caunders: Age 23. A track and field athlete still in college. Jaxson has had a hard life and has spent years trying to get his way to the top. Now all that work is gone. Jaxson feels like his life lacks purpose, but he intends to stay alive until he can find one. He always puts others before himself, even under extremely dangerous circumstances. Thinks the most before speaking.

Abbey Zellion: Age 31. A woman who recently became a mother and lost her husband to the zombies. Abbey is quiet and reserved, often only speaking up when no one else will. Worrying about others keeps her up late at night. The apocalypse has been especially hard on Abbey, reviving bouts of depression that have plagued her in the past. Has the deepest eyes.

Miles Sindall: Age 24. Another of Cecil’s group, Miles is just normal. He tends to add to conversations rather than start them, typically more on the quiet side. He’s not great friends with anyone but doesn’t hate anyone either. A very neutral fellow, not apathetic or detached, just not terribly opinionated. Any further complexities to his personality he keeps to himself. The least picky eater.

Cecil Servero: Age 27. A graphic designer who leads his own group of survivors. Cecil and his friend George worked together previous to the apocalypse and now work together to survive in it. Level-headed and methodical, he is a fine leader and hardly a liability. He loves tennis and volleyball but is a bit ashamed to admit it. The slowest to anger.

George Fletcher: Age 30. An airline technician who became a carpenter when he couldn’t find work. He met Cecil while doing a job and the two stuck together when the outbreak started. George is generally a man of short sentences and no prose. He hates being called names and has a short fuse, but he never takes his anger out on those who didn’t incite it. Has the hardest swing.

Wendy MacMillan: Age 27. A woman who tends to keep her thoughts to herself. She joined Cecil’s group with nothing but a knife and few words for her past. Whether or not she used to be more talkative before the outbreak is up to debate. Blinks the most often.

David Escoman: Age 35. An accountant out on business when the outbreak struck. David is easily stressed, the recent events not helping. He is very direct and doesn’t like wasting time, a man of schedules. David is generally distrustful of others, and not without reason. He hates surprise birthday parties more than anyone. The biggest critic.

Gene Lembeck: Age 31. A dazed mess of a man, Gene is always a few steps behind what’s going on. His new wife left him for dead when the outbreak reached his neighborhood. Gene is a little slow sometimes but his heart is always in the right place and he wouldn’t hurt a soul. He prefaces most of his sentences with “Well…” and has no idea he does it. Has the best luck.

Reed Tandom: Age 26. A classic rogue and rebel. Reed has been surviving the apocalypse solo after his companions tried to rob him. As such he is naturally paranoid and distrustful of everyone in such times, except for girls. He has a harmonica he can’t play and his first car was a motorcycle he couldn’t ride. Has a massive complex over his disdain of his father, General Tandom. Looks the best at their worst.

Shelley Masten: Age 39. Stanley’s wife. Shelley enjoys little more than peace, security, and quiet pastimes. Because of this she frequently worries that she comes across as boring to others. She reads more books in a year than most do in a lifetime. Despite being a mostly homely person, Shelley has a surprising knack for survival in a pinch. Her favorite food is just soup. The most severely left-handed.

Stanley Masten: Age 42. Shelley’s husband. Stanley’s a sucker for the quiet life, content with a well-paying stay-at-home job, a stay-at-home wife, and enough books to last two lifetimes between them. His position has given him a touch of a gentle superiority complex when it comes to strangers, one that he probably isn’t even aware of. He has unusually hairy arms. Has the biggest vocabulary.

Jarek Peterson: Age 43. A grizzled survivor who’s escaped the safety zones to rough it on his own alongside his friend Gavin. He is an outdoorsman by heart and gifted at survival even before the outbreak. Because of his experiences in the zones when it all started, he is hesitant to trust the government, and prefers to leave survival in his own capable hands. Has the best cardio.

Irene Maye: Age 24. A hotheaded woman and formerly a leader of her own small group. She detests sarcasm but will often employ it liberally herself. Irene has a long list of losses to pay back from this apocalypse, and she will keep a grudge. Those in her favor she’ll defend with her life however. Has been in the most car crashes.

James Roree: Age 29. A pale quiet man who typically keeps to himself. He has a complex moral code and rarely sees matters in black or white, and is often difficult to read as a result. He really enjoys sailing but never had the money for it. Absolutely awful at improvising. The quietest breather.

Gauge Sauver: Age 25. A young man who became one of Apostle’s soldiers to avoid the zombies. Still, he has no loyalty to Apostle and doesn’t really want to hurt anybody. In spite of a typically cool and collected demeanor, Gauge has been a coward many times in the past even before the outbreak. Now he wants to prove to the world that he can be better than that. Eats the most junk food.

Oriel Weiler: Age 26. A young pastor seeking to expand his horizons outside of Julie Anne’s settlement. He is easy to talk to regardless of differences in opinion and relatively lax across the board. He sees this apocalypse as both a tragedy and an opportunity. Something seems off about him. The best listener.

Hanna McClure: Age 23. A young woman caught up in the slaughter of the Cincinnati crossing. She’s devoted herself to at least keeping Henry safe. She went to the same high school as Miles and is acquainted with him. The outbreak made her go from nervous to nervous wreck, and she has difficulty remaining calm. The most anxious.

Nazar: A man of unknowable motives and methods, Nazar is the head of VACC, an organization dedicated to stopping the zombie apocalypse. For some reason the undead completely ignore him. If he knows how or why he certainly doesn’t seem to feel like sharing that information. Has the most secrets.

Lavender: Nazar’s trusted assistant, Lavender follows him just about everywhere and does anything he asks of her. She was a state-sponsored career hacker before Nazar recruited her to his cause. A woman of few words, Lavender rarely helps shine any light on Nazar’s mysterious motives. The most reserved.

General Tandom: Age 56. Tandom is one of the U.S.’s most trusted generals, placed in charge of handling the zombie outbreak in the Midwest and Western States. He is an able commander and knows his troops better than he knows his own family. As much of an avid patriot as you’d expect, the General will do anything and everything in his power to ensure that his country survives the apocalypse. Has taken the fewest days off.

Commander Grimm: Age 63. One of the highest ranking members of the United States military, off the books. Commander Grimm has handled countless situations that citizens across the globe have had the luxury of never finding out about. He is frequently an asshole, but Grimm’s intellect and discipline are still an inspiration to those below his command. He loves liquor and winning. The hardest to tell when he’s joking.

Montag Smith: Age 32. A failing author, Montag Smith didn’t lose much with the downfall of society. Simple and kind, Montag no longer seeks fame with his works but friends. A few close ones mean a lot more than thousands of faceless admirers. Montag doesn’t like to travel and refuses to leave VACC, overseeing the other civilians there. Hates hot weather the most.

Lynn Perpeno: Age 33. Lynn is a firefighter retired due to injury. She helped every soul she met alongside other authorities during the outbreak before being directed to the VACC facility as thanks. She has unbreakable spirit and is a good shoulder to lean on. The least likely to get sick.

Guy Forfend: Age 28. Guy almost tries to pride himself on being as uninteresting as possible. Having a winning personality makes little difference in these times. A consistent underachiever and underdog, he was forced through quite a bit in his effort to endure the zombie apocalypse. He absolutely needs hobbies and games to make the hours go by. The worst consoler.

Dr. Lance Zakarian: Age 30. One of VACC’s scientists tasked with cracking the zombie virus. He believes that the virus may have roots in the supernatural. Dr. Lance often likes to stoke up friendly debates with those around them, finding that discussing differing opinions and playing devil’s advocate is the best way to really get to know people. He hates spices and condiments in general. Takes the most alcohol to get drunk.

Dr. Brett Helfer: Age 30. One of VACC’s scientists determined to get to the bottom of the outbreak. He believes the zombie virus may have been entirely manmade from scratch. Dr. Brett is stubborn as a mule: it takes a lot for him to call it quits but when he does he quits hard. He almost constantly taps his foot while seated. Can stay up the latest.

Director Arnie Merne: Age 54. The Federal Director placed in emergency charge of overseeing all survivor efforts in the U.S. He is popular among fellow politicians and considers himself an altruist, though he is rarely seen in person in order to protect himself. “Splendid” is his go-to word of approval. Plays the cleanest game of golf.

Blake Levy: Age 37. Director Merne’s bodyguard and assistant, and the one most often representing him in his absence. He is the Director’s liaison to Nazar. There’s only one problem: Blake despises Nazar on a personal level. To all others he is a no-nonsense and often silent agent, obedient as a dog and watchful as a hawk. The fastest puzzle-solver.

M. Gondowl: Age 61. Nazar’s personal driver. That’s about all there is to say about him. He has a strong English accent and like Lavender does whatever his boss asks of him. He never lets any of his personal life show while on the job, and as such comes across as very dull conversationally. The least likely to break eye contact.

Gavin Barsella: Age 28. A young survivor who’s travelling alongside Jarek. He sticks to rivers and lakes on his yacht where it’s much safer from zombies. He mostly plays second-fiddle to Jarek’s lead, and is hesitant to deviate from his status-quo lifestyle of sailing. When it comes to eating he can punch well above his weight class. Can remain asleep through the most.

Julie Anne Heaphy: Age 36. A soccer mom who formed her own defensible settlement when the outbreak struck. She’d rather protect her family herself than rely on others to do so. Julie Anne is a bit of a hardass who doesn’t pull punches when it comes to the grim reality of survival out on one’s own. She’ll do anything to protect her group. Gives the best haircuts.

Henry Percea: Age 12. A boy caught up in the disastrous survivors’ evacuation across Cincinnati. The events of the outbreak have left him cynical by nature and wary of forming connections with anyone now that life can be so fleeting. That doesn’t mean he’s eager for others to die quickly, however. The first to leave a party.

Lt. Neil Oakerley: Age 34. A U.S. Army officer under the direct command of General Tandom. He has been working nonstop since Day One of the outbreak and his unit has been decimated and reformed many times under his watch as a result. But he keeps his head down, and it makes him a good soldier. The best grill cook.

Sgt. Erin Londel: Age 29. Lt. Oakerley’s second-in-command. She is fairly reserved but keeps a level head and as such makes for a good leader even under fire. No one else in her home could serve to defend her nation, and so she chooses to fulfill that role. The best beach volleyball player.

King: A mysterious immortal man who commands Apostle. He cares nothing for the world and seeks to destroy every living thing on Earth. He possesses numerous supernatural abilities and is completely indestructible. Because life is imperfect it holds no value to him. He does not eat, sleep, breathe, or blink. Has walked the most miles.

Elias: One of the highest-ranked Apostle members and King’s right-hand man. Because he lacks a villainous demeanor, many wouldn’t take him to be among Apostle’s numbers at first glance. Elias follows King’s every order and declines to offer explanation for his allegiance. Sometimes mistaken for a woman at a distance. The worst shot.

Alex Silvin: A renowned terrorist and one of the most vile people alive, Alex Silvin lives only to cause misery and become famous from it. His acts lack monetary, political, or religious motivation. Silvin has clashed with Cpl. Thorn countless times and the two despise each other. He can speak at least five languages and loves Opera. Has seen the most films.

Vigil: A vicious and enigmatic masked Apostle who rides atop a mountain of female zombies. He wields numerous weapons and attacks anyone on sight without mercy. He is the only one other than King to seem to possess some level of command over the undead, as well as superhuman strength. Possibly necrophilic. Has killed the most survivors.

Deacon: An extremely mysterious Apostle member whose skin is hidden under white robes. He speaks in a hushed child’s whisper and hides his face under a veil. His origins are an enigma even to other Apostles. Like King, he seems to possess supernatural abilities and will attack any survivor on sight. The hardest to converse with.

Harold Joetex: One of Apostle’s top scientists, Joetex was one of the organization’s founders as well as the designer behind many of the vile creations within the labs. Joetex was fed up with the dilemmas of ethics holding much of the scientific community back and went to Apostle to continue his work in genetics as he pleased, experimenting on live human subjects. The most self-loathing.

Albrecht Ruxus: A highly accomplished scientist-turned-terrorist. Ruxus returned after he mysteriously vanished for years, now seemingly resolved to start a nuclear war. He might not be a master criminal, but his intellect and top-tier connections make him a danger to the world. Some call him a classic mad scientist. Can rant the longest.

Adib: At one point the leader of a small and mostly unknown terrorist group, Adib is Alex Silvin’s current right-hand man. He supplies Silvin with many of the men and weapons he needs and works closely with him, as they have the same goals of destabilization. However they do have disagreements concerning the motives of their work. The best horse rider.

Louis Detchin: Age 26. A sharp young man with a lot of charm and wit, Louis Detchin is a career artist and activist. He believes that the zombie virus might in part be Nature’s answer to Man’s destructive ways. He is an excellent debater and can talk most women’s pants right off. Being constantly cooped up underground gets under his skin at times. The most likely to bring politics into a conversation.

Peyton Collis: Age 65. Founder of the highly successful Collis Corporation. Peyton Collis is a man who tries way too hard to never let his wealth go to his head or heart. He has a nonjudgmental and understanding attitude that makes him easy to talk to. He has a strong aversion to alcohol and hates anything pretentious in nature. The easiest way to irk him is to never sit up straight. The best public speaker.

“Voyeur” Shou: A masked, gaunt Apostle agent. He operates entirely on his own, preferring to keep a great distance to observe at his leisure. He is remarkably particular, being meticulous by nature and measuring things more than others would ever care to. He despises even the smallest imperfections. The most tireless worker.

The Bloodletter: A horrific monster, the Bloodletter is a beast of countless tentacles, all holding sharp objects. Despite being genetically altered to such a state, it retains its sentience from its time as a human, just not its memories. Instinctually it desires nothing more than shedding blood, but the Bloodletter also enjoys the thrill of hunting prey, and has made a sport out of its violent work. The best juggler.

____My name is Henry Williamson. I’ve seen things you wouldn’t believe. Ever since everything went to hell I’ve been wandering the countryside, hopping between groups of survivors and stumbling across all sorts of mad wonders.
____I’m looking for a man named Adam. We were separated when all this began, and I haven’t a clue where he went. It’s like he just disappeared… Maybe he’s dead… maybe you went somewhere…
____The dead walk the Earth, strange visions assault my senses, and I’ve come across things I feel like I was never destined to witness. I’m just looking for Adam. All this feels so much bigger than me…
____I don’t know what my place in all this is. There’s not much I can do. At the very least, I figure I can chronicle what I come across, so that anyone who finds these notes may be better prepared. I’ve seen all manners of strange and terrifying monsters, human or otherwise. I’m no artist, but… I feel like I’ve got to do something. Maybe if the information about these creatures I jot down can save even a single person, it’ll have been for something. Anything.
____When chaos overcomes the world, men search for meaning to validate their lives. Perhaps that’s all this is, an effort to give my life some gravity. That’s something I’ll never know until I’m dead.

____Zombies: The undead. Simple as that. I never thought something like this would actually happen, but here I am. Absolute madness.
____As morbidly as I can put this in a casual way, they’re what you’d expect. Rotting flesh, glassy eyes, a ravenous taste for the living. I’ve noticed over my travels that they seem to decay fairly quickly, turning grey and wrinkly faster than you’d expect. Their hair seems to fall out easily as well.
____Shooting for the brain is the most effective way to take them down. That’s no different than humans, I suppose, but for zombies it’s more of a necessity because they don’t seem to feel pain. So non-lethal shots won’t incapacitate them easily. Burning them and shooting them into ground beef does the trick as well. A good shotgun blast will suffice. As long as they’re incapable of carrying on. I’ve seen some get sheared in half and still come crawling. So shoot for the brain or just keep shooting until they stop moving. I don’t have a ton of ammo to spare of course, so I’ll need to learn to be a better shot if I’m to survive this long enough to find Adam.
____Some look more decrypt than others. I’m also not sure how fast one turns when bitten. I’ve seen some people become zombies in less than a minute while others took several days before the virus got to them. Some walk, some run. I’ve also noticed that some zombies have a faint glow to their eyes as well. Strange and eerie. I don’t know what determines that. Most strangely of all, I’ve heard rumors that right before a zombie bites you it’ll whisper your name. But I’m not particularly interested in putting that myth to the test.
____These things are everywhere. They’re unpredictable. And no matter where I hide out they always seem to know where the living are, slowly following me wherever I go. I’ve got to stay on the move. I’ve got to find Adam.

____Initiated: AKA “Twitchy”: Unnaturally fast zombies. They never seem to sit still, constantly twitching freakishly. Some zombies walk while others run, and I’ve seen some pretty fast runners, but nothing compared to an Initiated. You’ll never outrun one on foot, I’ve seen more than enough people prove that point.
____ Their eyes also have a strange glow to them. It all seems supernatural—there’s no way for human muscles to move the way they do. Given their movements, this might be one zombie that’s better to take on with a melee weapon over a firearm, given how extremely difficult it is to hit one from a distance.
____ I’ve never seen an Initiated indoors. Maybe that’s a good thing given how fast they could close the distance in a cramped space. Knowing the undead’s uncanny ability to track down the living, it’s a sure sign that staying put out in the country is a bad idea with packs of these things on the loose. Not that the overpopulated cities are much safer.
____ I don’t know what exactly makes a zombie an Initiated. I’ve heard that people with cruel hearts turn into Initiated when bitten. Some rumors claim that it’s a more advanced version of the virus, or that regular zombies turn into Initiated over time. The most common theory I’ve heard is that anyone infected when the winged moon is full becomes an Initiated. That might be why they’re so often found in groups.
____ Speaking of which, I’ve decided to stick with a band of survivors out here in the middle of nowhere. A pack of Initiated narrowed down my last company to just a handful, so we joined up with another group to cover losses. With these zombie freaks roaming the land, the last thing I want to do is face down a group of Initiated understaffed. I keep my revolver to myself—these circumstances make savages out of many folks—but the zombies are the bigger problem. Staying alive is the only way I’ll find Adam. Right?

____Doorman: Some sort of freakishly lanky lab-grown monster. No belly button or genitals, and absurdly large teeth and hands and ridiculously long limbs. I genuinely don’t know if those bit by one turn into zombies. They’re so rent apart by those fangs and claws that I doubt they could reanimate. Abominations of genetics.
____ What were the people in this lab doing? The containers I found them in were labeled “Doorman”. Are these failed experiments or were they purposefully trying to make lab monsters? It was a mistake coming here. I should’ve stayed with the other half of the team.
____ An escaped one rushed my group. It tore two of my friends apart and bit our leader before finally going down. I need a higher caliber gun. And a new group of friends.
____ Fortunately it seems these creatures are rare outside of these laboratories. I’ve only come across a couple out in the country. I was wondering where they were coming from. I guess now I know. Better to shoot them dead on sight than run, those lanky legs of theirs sure can sprint. I’ve been low on food for a while now, but I was hoping I could at least stockpile ammo by avoiding zombies. Between being forced to stand and fight against both Initiated and Doormen, I’m running out of bullets fast.
____ I don’t know what this “Apostle” organization is, but it seems like they’re behind the outbreak, or at least connected to it. It’s a terrifying thought knowing that this place was readying the apocalypse right under our noses, not terribly far from where I live. Only now that it’s too late do I stumble into this place. Why am I here? What’s really going on?
____ Adam… did you come here? Where are you?
____ I know my husband is more than likely dead. I know the farther away from town I get the smaller the chances of me finding him. But where did he go that day he left? Just one day before the outbreak? Could he have known?
____ No, no… too late for doubting now. I know he’s out there. I’ve got to find him. He needs me.

____Apostle Soldier: Men who aim to help Apostle destroy the world, be it through spreading the virus, exterminating survivors, etc. They seem to be well-funded with military-grade weapons and standardized uniforms, so they all look the same. Underneath those helmets they range from members of various terrorist groups, mercenaries, radical anarchists, or just regular people who want a way out from the zombie apocalypse and don’t want to die.
____I had to shoot one. I was scrapping for supplies when he jumped me. Luckily he wasn’t one of those hardened PMC types—I managed to get off with just a grazed arm. I guess when you don’t have to worry about zombies you don’t have to learn to be a good shot. When he was dead I took off his helmet. He was just a kid.
____I wonder if I would join up if I were his age, in his situation. Maybe he didn’t have a choice, maybe he was just scared. Lord knows we’re all scared, our fragile lives all shattered. If I were alone, family dead, chased by monsters… And then someone comes and offers you shelter, supplies, and a cure. All you have to do is be the killer… … …
____…Then again, maybe he was just a punk who couldn’t pass up the chance to run around with a gun and no rules.
____I took his rifle and didn’t bury him.

____Daddy-Longlegs: AKA “Spider”, “Fused”: What a disturbing creature, even a step further than the Doorman. Daddy-Longlegs are essentially zombie spiders made out of people. Like Doormen, they are unnaturally large and have extremely long limbs. Unlike Doormen, they’re a lot less streamlined, all fused together. I’ve even seen one with two heads. I’m not sure where they come from or how they’re made. I’d rather not know.
____Daddy-Longlegs have an excess of limbs, giving them their spider legs look. They still have some fairly normal (normal for one of these monsters anyway) arms in front of their head to hold prey when they bite. Any additional body parts hang loosely from their underside in a grotesque manner. I’ve heard that if they lose a limb one of those underside arms or legs will grow out and replace it, but I’ve never seen that so I can’t say if it’s true or not.
____Mostly I’ve encountered these monsters in wide open areas, although I have seen a few cramped into large rooms. Although their size varies somewhat they do seem to be the largest creature I’ve seen so far. Boy can those limbs of theirs get gangly. Even their relatively human necks can stretch quite a bit when they move to bite. Freaky as they are, it’s even more freaky when they do that. Freaky is a good word for it. Shoot for their freaky heads. That’s what I always say. Like with Doormen, they’re mighty thin but they’re still big. Those oversized bones can take quite a beating. So don’t waste time on the limbs and just pop the head. Then again, if there is more than one brain hidden in that mess of bodies you’ll have to shoot for that too.
____If they were concocted in Apostle labs I’m not sure what the point of them was. Maybe they were just experimenting and seeing what they could do, just for the sake of proving they could. I will say they can climb like nobody’s business (they are spiders after all I guess). Perhaps they were made for attacking walled outposts? They certainly could ascend or topple any makeshift survivor barricades. All the more reason to stay on the move, I say.

____Tremble: AKA “Confront”, “Patroller”: By far the most dangerous monster I’ve encountered. Trembles are bizarre creatures. Unlike any other zombie or Apostle monstrosity, they don’t seem even remotely human. They are made up entirely of some strange thick, inky material. It’s almost alien in nature.
____I’ve never seen one outdoors or in well-lit areas. In fact, they seem to exist only in dark hallways and cramped spaces. They’re very startling that way, since they are quite behemoth but otherwise discreet. I’ve almost walked straight into one once. They blend in well with the dark and hardly make any noise. Just occasionally those strange high-pitched whistled whispers. I think they’re speaking English, but I can just barely not make out what exactly they’re saying. Excuse me for not wanting to get closer for a better listen.
____They’re dangerous, and if they can be killed I haven’t seen any evidence of it. It’s easier just to run.
____…
____The first time I saw one, I ran. It chased me into a cramped cubical room. There was what I can only describe as an upside-down step pyramid. It was floating in the air, hovering directly above a single swing seat. No swing set, just a seat lying there on the floor, chains strewn about on either side. Like something out of some surrealist painting. I don’t know why it made me feel so…
____Adam, where did you go? Why did you leave me? You know you can’t live without me. Why can’t I find you? Damn. Damn, damn, damn, damn, damn!
____The Tremble was gone when I left that room. Good. They make me very uncomfortable. The last way I want to die is to be sucked up into that vile darkness and never come back out. God knows what happens to people absorbed into that abyss.

____ Dress shirts always felt especially stuffy on hot Summer afternoons. That was the most distinct memory Thorn had of that day. He tugged at his shirt collar repeatedly to cool off while he stood there at the street corner. He was chubbier back then and didn’t shave so religiously, a big bushy golden beard decorating his chin. Neither of these helped his heated condition, let alone the nerves of this being his first job.
____ He was still in college and was working Security for a city parade or festival or whatever it was—he didn’t keep up with these things. He was hoping for a job that required more sitting down and looking at computer screens, but work was work and anything to help his resume would do. This live outside work wasn’t quite the same. People swarmed the streets left and right, their causal chatter like a roaring wave of collective noise. Thorn did a radio check and continued standing there, watching. People were here to have fun, he was there to work, to make sure nothing went wrong.
____ His radio fizzled to life, a static-covered voice calling his name, “Radio check, Christian. How’re things looking over there?”
____ It was Ben, the one who hired him for this gig. Tall guy, glasses, a better friend than he deserved. Thorn pinched the radio and replied, “Everything looks good, I think. …Over?”
____ “Right. Just, uh, yeah. Stay in touch.”
____ “Ben?” Thorn asked, “All I gotta do is stand here, right? And keep an eye out?”
____ “Pretty much, man. That and help people find the bathroom. Easy peasy.”
____ “Alright thanks. Over and out.”
____ Thorn released the radio and breathed heavily, continuing to tug at his collar to air out. In spite of the simplicity of his job, the large crowds still made him nervous. It was a lot to keep track of. Nothing but nerves, probably, he should just relax. Thorn took a deep breath. People were here to enjoy themselves. That was good. Thorn just smiled and waved at people who looked at him.
____ “Hey hey!” A man he waved at strode over, speaking to Thorn directly and loudly. He was a pale, lanky guy around the same age as Thorn. Sunglasses shone in the heavy light, hiding his eyes, but his toothy grin expressed what his gaze didn’t.
____ “Uh… hey?” Thorn replied, unsure if he was supposed to recognize this character. He always dreaded the idea of forgetting about someone who hadn’t forgotten him.
____ The man walked over, holding his arms out and looking around the place, “Some festivities, huh? People need to get outside more, yeah? Thanks for making all this possible!”
____ So it was a stranger. Thorn eased up a bit, allowing himself to lower his guard. There were plenty of other Security Officers on this block anyway. He managed a slight smile, “Uh, yeah. No problem.”
____ “Right, right,” The man nodded, “Yeah, I’m glad the city organized this event. Anyway, mind if I take a pic? Is there some rule against that?” The man took out a phone and held it up.
____ “Oh, no. Go ahead.” Thorn replied.
____ “Cool. Cheers.” The man leaned next to him, adjusting his sunglasses lower to show his eyes and grinning. With a quick click he took a selfie, moving his glasses back up and examining the picture, “Great, thanks a lot! I’m blogging this whole event, right? This’ll look great. Listen, have you seen Taxi Driver?”
____ “What?” Thorn asked, “No, I don’t think so.”
____ “Too bad. Neat little flick. De Niro’s great. Well, see ya around!”
____ With that he took off, nearly walking into a little girl skipping her way through the street, white balloon animal in hand—too clumsily made to tell what animal. She bumped into his leg and backed off, immediately tugging at his hand with an anxious urgency.
____ “Huh, what?” The man leaned down and listened for a second, getting back up right after and waving at Thorn, “Yo, security guy! This kid says she lost her parents. You guys help with that sort of thing, right?”
____ Thorn hurried over, “Right. Sorry. C’mere, let’s find your folks.”
____ He took the girl’s hand and led her out into the crowded street. People were everywhere. He wasn’t sure where to begin.
____ “Ben?” He tuned into his radio.
____ “Yeah?” Came the short reply.
____ “Found a kid. Lost parents. Should I take her to you?”
____ “Uh, yeah, sure. I’ll get the supervisor.”
____ Thorn headed back, the little girl tugging at his hand as he walked. He waded his way through the crowded street and glanced around, the child’s sharp cry catching his attention.
____ “There! There!” She shouted, pointing to a man and woman standing by one of the stands lining the road.
____ “Oh, right. There you go, kid.” Thorn replied, glancing at them. He smirked. They didn’t look like they’d even noticed she was gone. Regardless, it didn’t matter now. He let go of her hand, “Okay. Don’t run off, okay?”
____ “Thanks mister!” The kid squeaked and instantly took off towards her family.
____ Thorn smiled, glad to be of some use. He pinched the radio on his shoulder again, “Nevermind that, Ben. Situation’s resolved, going back to post—”
____ BOOM!!! A massive explosion cut him off, a giant blast erupting from one of the stands right by the girl’s family. It cracked the air and threw Thorn down to the concrete, ears ringing like church bells had struck his eardrums. A pillar of gray smoke threw itself out around the shattered stand, floating up into the air and leaving scores of people in its wake.
____ Panicked screams slowly faded into audibility as Thorn’s hearing returned, the guard sluggishly sitting up and looking around. People ran all about the street in a mad frenzy, countless others littering the ground and not getting back up.
____ He himself was still dazed, everything a blur. Trying to register what had just happened. Explosion. Shockwave. Gray smoke, unglamorous, shattering. Blood everywhere.
____ No! Thorn struggled to his feet and raced over to where the blast had occurred, fighting his way through the fleeing terrorized. He spotted the little girl, sprawled out on the pavement, and rushed to her side.
____ She was alive but not for long. Half of her clothes were already drenched in red, the girl merely laying there, staring off into space. The balloon animal was not just popped but torn asunder beside her. Her chest continually heaved up and down, her breaths coming only in halves as if she were choking.
____ “No, no…” Thorn eyed her with dread, completely at a loss as to what to do. He reached his shaking hands down to pick her up. No! Don’t move her! That’s what you were supposed to do, right? He didn’t know. What was he supposed to do? Thorn glanced left and right, looking for answers but finding none. He was supposed to be in charge here. Sweat dripped from his face as he was thrashed by panicked hesitancy.
____ The little girl’s expressionless eyes drifted up towards him, Thorn looking back down at her and wishing his gaze could offer her more than hopelessness.
____ “What do I do?” He sputtered, glancing back and forth, still aimlessly looking for directions, “What do I do?”
____ Finally the child simply stopped choking, becoming still. Thorn shakily got back up, instantly ducking back down at the thunderous booming of a second explosion, this one even larger than the first. More screams could be heard further down the street, soon followed by the faint ringing of sirens.
____ Thorn stumbled around the street, lost in a wide-eyed panic. The chaos continued around him, but all he could hear was that ringing. It persisted the entire walk down the street.

____ Three days later.

____ Thorn sat alone in his darkened apartment, shades drawn on all the windows and only one light on. He sighed before clumsily holding the glass to his lips, letting the last of the liquor within trickle into his throat. He set the glass aside and leaned forward in his seat, rubbing his eyes. He was drinking himself to death and all he wanted to do was sober up. No, he wanted to wake up.
____ After the smoke had cleared the police had arrived. As the shock wore off then came the sympathy. After the sympathy came the questions. Thorn had shook his head more times than he could remember. He wasn’t physically injured. He had no idea what was going on. He just needed to go home.
____ The news played on the TV at the far end of the room. It’d been on since he got home, but he avoided eye contact with the screen. The high-pitched voice of the news lady on there harassed his ears all that time, droning on and on about the bombs. The worst was yet to come:
____ “Police continue to search for renowned terrorist Alex Silvin, who has recently claimed responsibility for the attacks.” She had announced, “A photo surfaced on Twitter this morning picturing Silvin at the festival alongside one of the security staff.”
____ That selfie picture illuminated the screen, Thorn smiling dumbly next to that man. Under those sunglasses were smirking, knowing eyes. Thorn only felt more sick staring at it, displayed on the TV for all to see. He wished he was dead.
____ “Authorities are still investigating how Silvin managed to get the bombs past security. The chief of police had ‘no comments’ on the issue. With me here is retired counterterrorist expert Dean Smitt. Dean, perhaps you could offer some insight into this tragedy and how it might’ve been stopped.”
____ “Well Helen, the silence from the investigators is deafening. We’re talking a major oversight here on an unprecedented level. You don’t just walk in to an event like this with IEDs—especially of this size—pull off an attack like this, and then just drop off the grid. I would think at best this is a serious case of negligence on the behalf of the security or, judging from the picture we see online, perhaps even assistance from an insider. Speculation, of course.”
____ “Of course. We’ll keep you up to date for any new developments.”
____ Questions flooded his address, social media accounts, and email soon afterwards.
____ How could you not recognize one of the most wanted men in the world!?
____ I demand repercussions! Someone has to pay!
____ Because of you my brother is dead!
____ How are you not in jail because of this?
____ I don’t buy the police accounts. We both know you’re guilty.
____ If I ever see your face on the street…
____ If you had any decency whatsoever you’d kill yourself.
____ On the fifth day Thorn ran out of alcohol. He was afraid to go outside, afraid of the death threats. No, he didn’t fear death, he would welcome it. What he truly feared was not dying, having to go around living looking people in the face. Dread was worse than death. He’d gladly die before he had to go back out into that world again.
____ Thorn walked by his kitchen table, dragging a chair out into the middle of the cramped apartment room. The chair legs made an irksome scraping sound on the floor, irritating noise doubling up with the TV still on in the corner:
____ “Frankly the most worrisome thing is the sheer confidence expressed by Silvin. This is the second attack this year and we still don’t have this guy. The fact that he was walking around in public and went unnoticed is a disgrace to our national security. He’s laughing at us. And you can rest assured that if he was able to get back into the country this easily he’ll slip out uncaught too.
____ What people want more than anything right now is assurance. And I don’t think our current administration is capable of giving it to them. We’ve been reading horror stories about this guy for almost two years by now. Why haven’t we caught him yet? It’s a joke! Look at this picture: it’s a complete joke to him!”
____ Thorn walked into his bedroom and opened his closet, sorting through it. As soon as he pulled out a belt the phone rang, Thorn sighing and answering, “Hello?”
____ “Christian? It’s Ben.” The unmistakable low voice replied, “How are you?”
____ “How do you think I am?”
____ “Listen, I saw the picture on the news the other day. I just wanted to let you know that you’re okay. You’ve been cleared. You’re innocent.”
____ Thorn scoffed, “It doesn’t matter what the police think. Everyone’s already made up their minds about me.”
____ “Forget about them. Who cares what they think?”
____ “I care.” Thorn sat down on the bed, staring at himself in the mirror across from him, “What am I supposed to do? This will never go away. I don’t deserve it to go away.”
____ Ben sighed, “Don’t talk like that.”
____ “How many people, Ben? How many?”
____ No reply. Thorn rubbed his eyes. Why couldn’t he just wake up from all this?
____ “I’m not dead but my life is over.” He continued, “And that’s the most selfish way I can put it. People are dead because of me.”
____ “No.” Ben refuted, “They’re dead because of him. It’s his fault, and his alone. Despair is what he wants, Christian. He feeds off hopelessness.”
____ This time Thorn didn’t reply.
____ “Are you going to give it to him?”
____ “Thanks, Ben, and I’m sorry.” Thorn replied, “But I have to go.”
____ He hung up, continuing to stare at himself in the mirror, pondering for a long, long time. He hated the man he saw on the other side. An awkward, nervous, blithering idiot who let people down and couldn’t decide on anything. Silvin had played that idiocy for all it was worth and left that man to take the brunt of the public’s rage.
____ Thorn hated the man in the mirror, but he hated Silvin more. And he was still out there, making a mockery of everyone with the mere fact that he was still free. What could Thorn do about that? Get knocked down and stay down? Merely get out of the way for the people who knew what they were doing to handle the situation? No, both men needed to die.
____ Finally Thorn rose up and briskly walked out of his bedroom and into the bathroom. He snatched up an underused razor and immediately began to run hot water in the faucet. Applying cream soon after, Thorn quickly yet methodically shaved every hair from his fat face. He ignored any minor amateurish cuts and kept at it until not a single strand remained. It wasn’t enough. He set his razor down and took a pair of scissors, snipping his lengthy hair indiscriminately until it was nice and short, albeit messy.
____ You, he thought, pointing to himself in the bathroom mirror, Christian Thorn is dead. You’re a new man. A bold man. A man who doesn’t let people down. A man who stands for everything Silvin is against.
____ Walking back out Thorn noticed the kitchen chair still sitting in the middle of the apartment room, awkwardly sticking out. He walked over to it and stared up. There was a single wooden beam hanging low in the arched ceiling, directly above the seat.
____ Thorn got on the chair and stood up straight, reaching up and touching the beam. He closed his eyes. Whenever he did, all he could see was that bloody street, the emotionless gray smoke, the remnants of the people he was supposed to keep safe.
____ Opening his eyes and jumping up, Thorn grasped the beam in both hands and began pulling himself up until his chin was over it. He was flabby and weak, but the drive was stronger than the lack of muscles. He did it again and again.
____ That chair remained in the center of that apartment. It was his chin-up chair.

____ Thorn’s body did not want to change. Gravity bore down upon him in each lap. Sweat made it hard to see, hard to think. And he was always sweating at boot camp.
____ Give up, his senses kept shrieking at him, give up. His CO agreed.
____ “Yer gonna be the first to go, piggy! All you gotta do is ring that bell and you’re free to go! Give up, piggy!” He screamed at Thorn as he struggled to push himself off the wet filthy ground. Thorn’s arms were shaking violently under the stress. It felt like they would just fall off. At home he had trained until exhausted and stopped. Here the pushups continued, whether he was broken or not. Thorn stared at the mud ahead of him, struggling to breathe. Just give up.
____ “Argh!” He collapsed onto the ground, gasping for breath and shutting his eyes tight.
____ He had lost count of the times his resolve had wavered and fell apart. Apathy mounted an endless siege upon him at all hours of the day.
____ “Heh.” His drill sergeant sneered, “And there it is. Get up or get packing! What’s it gonna be, piggy? Sweat or tears?”
____ But whenever he’d close his eyes, he’d see that bloody street and remember why. Thorn opened his eyes, sucked up the exhaustion, and leapt back to his arms.
____ “Sweat.” He said, “Front row seat.”

____ “So you’re the new kid, eh? I hope you’re as good in the field as you are promising in your file.” Thorn’s new Sergeant skimmed through some papers.
____ “As good as you need me to be, sir.”
____ “That’ll be the max, Private. Welcome to the Marine Corps Special Forces. I’m Sergeant Brysen Header. I hear you’ve got a bone to pick with a certain terrorist?”
____ “Alex Silvin, sir. A couple bones.”
____ “Good. You’ll be extra invested. We’re going to be working joint operations with counterterrorist units. How’s your French?”
____ “Bueno.”
____ “Ha! I like ya already. Follow me. You’ll get more details at the briefing.”

____ “Breach!” Header aimed his AA-12 at the door and in a quick flurry of blasts freed it of its hinges.
____ Thorn slipped his shades on and threw a flashbang at the wall, letting it ricochet into the room. Bam!! A wave of light blasted through the door, Thorn raising his M4A1 and rushing into the room.
____ The first two men he saw had Uzis. He aimed his rifle and shot them dead immediately. Behind him entered Raizen and Jones, riot shields at the ready. Another man cowered from the light in the center of the room near a large cubical device. Raizen immediately knocked him down and subdued him.
____ Thorn trained his weapon on the last man as he recovered from the flash. He stumbled about for a second before recollecting himself, turning and aiming a pistol at a phone on a table in the corner of the room. Thorn quickly zeroed in on his head and fired. Bang! Bang!
____ “Clear!” He announced, lowering his rifle and scanning the room. Raizen had secured a target, Jones was disarming the device, and he had just spared some intel. He managed a grim smile. I’m onto you, Silvin. And I’m not gonna stop.

____ Countless folders crammed full of papers clacked coldly in unison against hard desks. Professor Harold Joetex knew these people well, but they never became any less distant with each visit. He was old—he could even remember when most of these people were appointed. Hell, he could remember when the board was introduced in the first place. He hated them then too. Science and walls never mixed well. Nothing gets through blockades.
____ The central figure adjusted his glasses and leaned over to switch on a single recording device, “The Board of Ethics has reviewed Professor Harold Joetex’s newest proposal. Project Synthesis (working title)—December 14th, 3:17 P.M.”
____ He cleared his throat a few times, creating an awkward silence in its wake.
____ “Well, get on with it.” Joetex prompted, not wanting to waste any more time here.
____ “Right. Board Director of Human and Animal Concerns: Dr. Levrie, if you would.”
____ Woman, far left of table, also adjusted her glasses, “Human concerns are out. All surveyed rejected the Project’s proposals on the grounds of dangers proposed. The Project does not apply to dead subjects, so those are automatically out. Concerned backers for animal rights are out due to risks imposed. Those surveyed find the Project more disconcerting than useful.”
____ The man nodded and sipped some water, “Thank you. Dr. Fasser, if you would.”
____ So many Doctors. That was rich. None of these people were doctors, just cysts: representatives of concerned parties.
____ The next man over: “Thank you. As you know, I represent the Board of Warfare Limitations.”
____ As you know.
____ “Your Proposal was rejected on the grounds of potential dangers posed to the public. The Project violated the Modified-CWC in particular, due primarily to its potential for warfare outweighing its usefulness to society.” He’d waited to adjust his glasses, and did so now, “As you know, M-CWC violations are an automatic KO to any proposal…”
____ As you know.
____ He adjusted his eyewear again, just to be safe, “…And any grants for violating projects have been illegal for many years now. As you know, this means the Board of Warfare Limitations must decline the project.”
____ As you know.
____ Joetex tapped his foot restlessly while he listened, feeling trapped in the uncomfortable chair he was sat in, his ears grinding through all the needless repetition. Discomfort urged him to speak up faster, “I would request an exemption from that clause on the grounds that the Project Synthesis has the potential to break new grounds in the fields of DNA reconstruction and growth. Failure is an acceptable alternative to never trying to make major progress at all.”
____ “Such a… problematic philosophy to have, Mr. Joetex.” The man at the center of the board hid behind his folder, adjusting his glasses again before continuing, “As a spokesperson for the Grant Committees, the Board is more interested in projects focused on preservation over extreme experimentation. Furthermore, the proposed project has little to no grounds to back up its hypothesized conclusions. Additionally, the Board has found numerous other ethical concerns regarding the nature of the proposal and the dangers its success might pose to society as a whole. The Board has no tolerance for any pursuits that might stain its image.”
____ “That sounds like a matter of preference, not ethics.” Joetex argued.
____ “Irregardless, the statement stands. Project Synthesis will be rejected on the grounds of M-CWC violations amongst other concerns, and therefore will not be given any grants. This concludes the session.”
____ Joetex crossed his arms and nodded, just waiting for each and every one of them to adjust their eyewear before getting up and leaving.

____ “It’s ridiculous, Ludlow.” Joetex muttered over a sip of coffee, eyeing the pigeons as they swarmed around his discarded bagel, “How many things in this universe have gone unexplored simply because of fear?”
____ The campus coffee shop was a big downgrade for the labs he used to work in. Tenure was a solid fallback for every failure, but it wasn’t experience earned on preference. It was just time spent there. Still, sitting in the park near the college wasn’t the worst place in the world to be with time on one’s hands. It was a good place to think, reflect.
____ Ludlow was the only other Professor to actually have worked in any serious studies, accomplishing more than just teaching dumb spoiled kids. Additionally he was the only one to ever follow Joetex down here for the company. He was more of a listener though, a complacent one if there ever was.
____ Still, he was at least a good listener, offering conversation as he flipped through Joetex’s notes, “Well, to be fair, red flags are worth ironing out. There’s a reason for the renovated rules, after all.”
____ “This’ll be the fourteenth one they turned down in a row. Yes, I’m keeping track.”
____ Ludlow raised his eyebrows up and down, “Impressive. I can see why too. Project Synthesis is just littered with the dreaded ‘P’ word. So much potential—baaad possibilities.”
____ “Potential is what testing is for.” Joetex refuted, “It’s completely backwards.”
____ “Just iron things out. Get it passed and then work your way up. Baby steps.”
____ “There’s no point in trying to appease people who make a living off of saying ‘No’.” The Professor mused. He leaned back a bit and reminisced, Those surveyed found the Project more disconcerting than useful [to us]. It was an immeasurable waste to his time and talents, perfectly good potential lobbed into the garbage bin for fear of its actual success. Yes, potential. The very basis of scientific gain. Who cared about the advancement of weapons and wars? Military minds had tried using everything ever invented for wartime purposes; it wasn’t anything new. Just think of everything that had happened to mankind since the dawn of time. Were actual board members afraid of that change? The nerve. The ignorance. The no-good—
____ He sighed and gazed out into the open green before him. There was a playground not far off, always crowded with crazy small children and their grumpy parents. Ludlow curiously followed his eyesight as he stared. He didn’t yet get the picture, “What’re you glaring at?”
____ “Those children.” Joetex replied, “They’re old children. Same children.”
____ “Hm?”
____ “I’ve been here for over thirty years, Ludlow. I’ve been watching that spot since their parents played here, and longer still. They’re the same people. With the same superstitions and the same fears. A lot has changed in thirty years, but not those people. I think I hate them.”
____ “Christ almighty, sir.” Ludlow said, “They’ve really wound you up, haven’t they?”
____ “Sorry.” He shook his head. Ludlow was young and idealistic. He wouldn’t understand, not for a long time, “Forget it.”
____ “Listen, if you’re really concerned about your Project, there’s a scientists’ demo—well, more like a conference—I’m going to. In November. Corporate sponsored. Maybe you could get a grant there? Meet some other names?”
____ “The Project can’t be sponsored, public or private.” Joetex denied.
____ Ludlow shrugged, “Not your current work, just work in general. Could be good for the mind.”
____ Joetex stared back at the playground, and listened to the birds and the wind in the trees, mulling. What would be best for the mind? Or was the mind the problem?

____ Cheap music and people chatting.
____ “To think I’d live to see the day actual scientists say ‘has science gone too far?’”
____ “Context, man, think context. What’s the point of science? To further the advancement of the human race!”
____ “How narrow-minded. Thinking it’s nothing more than a tool to serve us. We’re capable of so much more.”
____ “Not much of a point if it’s not for use.”
____ “Not much use if that’s your only point.”
____ Ludlow shrugged, “Whatever you say. I need another drink.”
____ He tugged at his bowtie and walked off, leaving Joetex alone in the crowd. It was a fancy gala with hastily-dusted-off suits and inexpensive free alcohol. Nothing too hard for the Mrs., heavens no.
____ That was just being cynical. Either way, it was more of an event than a boardroom meeting getting right to the point—a huge fancy dance hall crammed full of chatty rich people. There was a band, a buffet, plenty of staff with trays full of drinks. There was even a goddamned ice rink, apparently going for a winter theme here at the end of November. But none of that mattered to Joetex. The CEO of the organizing company was supposed to give a speech sometime tonight; Joetex was planning on talking to him. Everyone else here was too vapid to discuss seriously with. Maybe that included Ludlow…
____ The Professor sighed and stared down at the gaudy drink in his hand, a glass full of faded cheap yellow distraction-juice. What an ugly look. He downed the drink nonetheless and stared out at the ice rink before him, arms crossed and leaning a bit too far over the edge. Yes, distractions. At least he could look at the pretty girls out on the rink, skating and spinning and smiling.
____ Someone stood next to him, “It’s not ethical, you know. What it is they’re doing.”
____ “Hm?” Joetex glanced over. It was some man he didn’t know: thin and tall and young, long blonde hair making him stand out sorely against all the others here (trophy wives notwithstanding, but this was a man). His all-black, unusual clothes didn’t help him blend in either, yet Joetex hadn’t seen him until now. He too held a drink in a black-gloved hand, although he hadn’t had a sip. As if possessing it was more of a gesture than a refreshment.
____ “The perpetually concerned have no place in any society. The board is only interested in what will help them live longer and more luxuriously.” The young man continued, “They’re desperate. And for all their lecturing, they’d eat children raw if they thought it’d erase their wrinkles. Your work is in the realm of death, whose objective scythe makes them scatter. It terrifies them day and night.”
____ “I don’t work in death.” Joetex denied, “Death isn’t just.”
____ “Death is the only justice. It cannot be bought or corrupted or fled from.”
____ His words seemed random, as if brought out of nothing. Yet they still resonated on a subconscious level. Joetex raised an eyebrow and got a better look at the man, “Just who are you?”
____ “I am Elias of Apostle.”
____ “Did you just mispronounce your own name?”
____ “Nevermind that. I’m here to talk about you.”
____ Joetex wasn’t impressed, “Are you a scientist, Elias?”
____ “No, just a caretaker of squandered potential.” Elias replied, handing over a business card with nothing more than an address on it, “Come work for us. No one will tell you No ever again.”
____ Joetex eyed both sides of the card, finding it needlessly vague, “I’m not a freelancer. You can’t just give me money and expect me to serve you up results you like.”
____ “We’ll be there to serve you.” Elias said, “See you there.”
____ He was gone like that, turning and just walking off. Joetex watched him leave, checking to see if he was telling anyone else the same. But Elias didn’t have any more business cards, just the one, exiting the party without a word to anyone else.
____ The Professor checked the card again, suddenly realizing he forgot to ask how the man knew what he’d been thinking about the board. It was as if the mysterious recruiter had come from nowhere, here solely for Joetex, and then left back to the void from whence he came.
____ Odd, vague, suspect… there were many words for the red flags going off in his head… scam, phony, scant… potential…
____ Joetex pocketed the card and walked out, not bothering to wait for Ludlow to return.

____ The address was out of state, Joetex cashing in all his vacation and sick days into one chunk and leaving to seek its source. It was a facility of some kind, building unmarked by any company logo or title. Off the books one way or another, and still offering little in the way of answers. But he was a discoverer, he’d find his answers.
____ Inside the facility were simple offices. Here at least there were some logos, although it was a foreign one to Joetex. There was a front desk in the first hall to greet him, but there was no one at it. Instead Elias merely stood in the center of the hallway, already waiting for the Professor.
____ “Good evening.” He greeted, “Are you ready?”
____ Joetex still found him odd, but mildly charming, cracking a faint smile, “How many hours have you been standing there waiting for me?”
____ “Zero. My boss told me you’d come, and here you are.”
____ Another skeptical smile, “Tracked me, eh? Does your boss spend a lot of time behind a computer, or is he psychic?”
____ “Both.” Elias answered completely straight-faced, “Now, shall we talk business?”
____ He turned and began leading the way through the winding halls, Joetex keeping up to maintain the conversation, “Elias, was it? What kind of business did you have in mind?”
____ “My Lord is very interested in your ideas.” Elias explained as they strode through the office halls, “Particularly your ideas on altering living beings. It’s ambitious.”
____ Joetex paused but had to keep walking to maintain the pace, “That Project is off the books. Only the board and Ludlow have seen it. How can your employer know about it? Is he part of the scientific community?”
____ “Not at all. In here.” Elias approached two steel doors. Beyond was a decontamination room and beyond that was a sterilized laboratory. The counters were lined with equipment, the room already full of other workers. They were all dressed in a consistent white, the company logo on all their coats just the same as Elias. All stood up straight and faced the two as they entered, Elias turning to Joetex, “We can get whatever you need. Go, create your artificial beings. Consider it a blank check.”
____ Joetex merely gawked at the sight, almost trembling at the possibilities. It couldn’t be real, but it was. He had his grant. It was time to make it a reality.

____ It was exactly as it seemed, staff, tools, and money suddenly all at Joetex’s command. It was no different than any of the other high-end projects he’d worked on in the past, save for the unusual nature of his employers and the nature of the tests themselves. He didn’t care.
____ The process of constructing complicated organisms from the ground up was tedious and expensive. The Professor brought in cloned samples and other successful genetic tweaking research, and labored tirelessly to find a way of doing it without Nature’s help. There was a natural order to things—that’s what everyone insisted—but he’d get around it one way or another. Make your own code and then you’re the next God.
____ Elias waved his blank check at every expense, fully supporting Joetex’s needs regardless of cost or efficiency. He didn’t bat an eye at any failure, nor did he react to the copious amount of crumpled papers and discarded experiments that quickly filled the laboratory wastebaskets. He was an immeasurably patient man, as if he came from a future where Joetex had already succeeded, and knew it was an inevitability regardless of current obstacles. Only occasionally did he ask about the specifics of Joetex’s work, seemingly more out of curiosity than deadlines.
____ The other workers there were more or less in the same boat as Joetex: rogue scientists with something to prove one way or another. They all had their individual reasons for working for Apostle. Some were petty, others were completely valid. None of them questioned where their work was going, or what their employers wanted it for, Joetex least of all. He’d left his old life behind, old friends and schedules and expectations. He had no intention of going back. He hadn’t missed it for a second.
____ Only very infrequently did Elias’ own boss come by. He went by King, though Elias called him Lord. He was a very quiet yet frightening individual, always standing in the back and just silently glaring at their progress. He had dark inhuman eyes and wore a wide violet cloak—looking much more like an undead clergyman than a scientist. But there was an unnatural aura in his look and demeanor that made it work. Only Elias could look him in the eye and not be forced to look aside, surrendering to the stare.
____ Most of the people there were afraid of him, and preferred Elias’ company. He served as King’s softer, human mouthpiece—a more understanding and easygoing manager who subtly guided projects with an almost sneaky kind of warm encouragement. It worked on Joetex.
____ Orders came frequently and yet sporadically, mingling with his progresses. Form these samples. Develop these serums. Perform the following tests on the following subjects. Make this specific arrangement of cells. Joetex obeyed them all. Most lined up with his own experiments: organism augmentation and cell manipulation.
____ Any tests were performed on live humans, not all of them willing. He didn’t bother to care. Whose lives were really so important that they should be a roadblock to his work? He had nothing but contempt for even a mention of ethics. Setbacks and failures made corpses of them all. Yet nonetheless the bodies of the dead grew increasingly monstrous as the tests persisted. Apostle knew what they wanted from Joetex’s cell manipulations: more strength, more speed, more teeth. Monsters.

____ One day a new order came in, straight from the top. Make a new organism out of a dead one. A corpse came with the news. Joetex didn’t quite follow.
____ “Does King know how dead cells work?” The Professor questioned as Elias opened the body bag before him.
____ “My Lord knows what He wants.” He replied, “Your tests have been excelling so far, haven’t they?”
____ He couldn’t disagree. There was a time when he would have preferred to be growing back arms and legs, or spawning vital organs from scratch. Boosting muscles or brain cells as needed. Helping people. But that time was long behind him. The people he wanted to help had their chance. The people who’d helped him instead, these people, wanted claws and teeth. And so be it.
____ Still, perhaps he was outliving his usefulness. Now they wanted something else from him entirely. He needed something alive to start with. A corpse from the get-go was another matter entirely.
____ “I…” He stammered, “I will give it an honest try.”
____ “Lord will be watching this one closely.” Elias warned, “Don’t fail him.”

____ Honesty didn’t make his try any more successful. Any dead tissue within the subjects wouldn’t change, and any live tissue put into the corpse would eventually die off just the same as any of his earlier experiments. King’s continued presence (always in the back, always watching, never commenting) didn’t ease the failures. Finally the Professor only had one option left: modulate the cells and then jumpstart the body, hoping it would momentarily electrify the cells into action. Both Elias and King were here for that.
____ Other scientists here were just deckhands for this experiment. It was all on him, as were all eyes. Joetex awkwardly toasted with nothing, “Thank you for being here today, and making all this possible. Project Synthesis is a success, soon for the living and the dead. Uh, here’s to Apostle.”
____ Elias applauded (too quietly to be audible). King did nothing.
____ The samples had already been implanted into the corpse on the table, right in the middle of the room. At the Professor’s command one of the labcoats applied a small charge to the naked chest of the body. Screens lining one wall lit up, revealing sensory imaging of the cells within the cadaver. Lying still. Only a select few were still active, but they weren’t the modified ones in question.
____ “Are those the—?” Elias began, but Joetex cut him off.
____ “No sir. Another charge please, Spencer.”
____ The scientist did the same thing, with the same results. Joetex impatiently walked over, shoved the man aside, and repeated the charge with increased voltage.
____ Finally King spoke up, his voice deep and demanding, “Make it work.”
____ “I—I’m trying, sir.” Joetex tried the charge again, still without success, “If I could only have a live specimen first, like before, and then mold the cells before death…”
____ “No.”
____ “But I—”
____ King insisted, “Make it work like this.”
____ “No, it’s just not working! It doesn’t work ‘like this’!” Joetex shouted, mounting frustration making him louder at each word. He pounded the table, that and the shock causing the corpse to fall to the floor, “It’s just not humanly possible!”
____ “Make it possible.” Elias said. His tone told Joetex that he was speaking for his boss, saying what King was thinking.
____ Normally Joetex wouldn’t dare snap back at him, but his continuing insistence regardless of obstacles pushed the words through, “You don’t understand! I can’t do it! Throwing more time and money at it won’t fix it! Impossible is impossible! It’s not within the realm of reality!”
____ King didn’t seem fazed, just walking over and stooping down over the corpse, “I find reality to be highly overrated.”
____ Out from his cloak came one ironclad hand, directly over the body. A lone drop of blood somehow escaped his skin and armor, falling down and landing right between the subject’s eyes. The droplet sank into its skin and after a few seconds the corpse sat up again. It slowly got to its feet, stumbling forward aimlessly.
____ Everyone gasped at the sight, all taken equally aback (save for King of course, who never reacted to anything). Joetex’s jaw literally dropped as he saw the dead rise and walk around of its own accord, “You—you brought him back from the dead!”
____ “There is no coming back from the dead.” King replied.
____ “That’s incredible!” Joetex hurried over to the computers, getting his readings on the probes within the corpse’s flesh. The cells were active again, decaying yet functioning at the same time. It was as if the corpse had undergone transplants of every muscle and organ yet was still dead, the replacements working all on their own.
____ “There’s no rejection.” He marveled, looking back at King over his shoulder, “How did you get the DNA to accept yours?”
____ “I did no such thing.” King seemed far less impressed with his own work, “I merely forced it to bend to my own will.”
____ That didn’t make an ounce of sense to Joetex, but he didn’t question the man’s results. He felt like there was an entirely new genre of scientific laws suddenly exposed to him all at once, ones that superseded the laws and theories he’d studied for decades. All for the taking. He had experimenting to do.
____ “It’s all possible, isn’t it?” He asked, half to himself, “I can do it all.”
____ “All and more.” King told him. “Anything you think is possible is possible. Make your work flourish with me.”
____ “Yes sir.”

____ It almost felt like cheating. Any subject Joetex tested with King’s blood broke down its DNA and RNA, making it all the same. Versatile, subject to altercations. He could turn anything into anything, make it do whatever he wanted. This was light years ahead of recombinant DNA testing.
____ The first step was getting around nature’s barriers. Living organisms could be remended using King’s methods. Joetex immediately set to mapping out plans to put his Project into effect. Apostle’s requests could be accommodated, but more than anything success in his own plans was the most important thing. He could alter any organism and have it work regardless of whether or not the subject survived the tests. He could turn a corpse into anything and have it function as if it were alive.
____ He stopped leaving the building every night, working day in and out. He had the spark of life in his arsenal, and now the ability to make flesh do work. The orders came in: apply the strain to every specimen. He had his solution. He was going to push it to its limit. His next test was going to phase out everything God and Nature had given man’s flesh. Professor Joetex would decide what Form was. He had been given time, money, and a volunteer.

____ Joetex leaned toward the microphone, “Victor, can you hear me?”
____ The freshly formed monster faced the glass separating it and him, eyes darting left and right in suspicion, “Who is Victor?”
____ No memories, no pain. Both designed intentionally. Joetex figured if they were going to mass produce these creatures, it would be the best for both. He dodged the question, “I was speaking to you, Subject 16 Designated-BLOODLETTER. I am Professor Joetex.”
____ Victor pressed against the window, tentacles running along the pane, visibly tempted by something, “I can hear your tongue against your mouth, Professor. Give it to me.”
____ Joetex leaned away from the microphone, looking back at his audience. Elias if nothing else looked more visibly pleased at the results. King was impossible to read. Joetex went on, “Vocals, memory loss, bloodlust check out. Release the cat.”
____ Victor had an affinity for cats. This one was his own pet. A hole in the chamber opened up and in wandered the animal. Sensing something unnatural, it arched its spine and hissed at Victor.
____ “Oh, yes…” Victor didn’t even seem to recognize it, simply rushing to it and entangling the poor pet in its many tentacles. Without hesitation it bit into the animal and rent it apart, spilling blood across the floor as it continued eviscerating it.
____ Elias winced as the animal was maimed beyond recognition, apparently turned away by the sheer needless excess of the violence. He tugged at his collar, “Well, he works.”
____ Victor’s tentacles writhed around in the blood. Finally the high seemed to die down, and Victor turned to the glass again, “More!”
____ “In due time, Bloodletter.” Joetex assured it, “We have more tests to do.”
____ “As you will.” Victor turned and slithered off to the corner.
____ Elias had seemingly recovered, “Impressive handiwork, Professor. The body appears to be completely fluid. Seamlessly grown and transfused.”
____ King didn’t seem so impressed, just glaring at Victor as he spoke, “It is still human.”
____ “Of course.” Joetex replied, “It was the easiest way to meld your virus and my research. Easier to use a living sample than build one from scratch. And his human intelligence will make the results and any unwanted side-effects easier to discern. He’ll be able to tell us exactly how his new body feels and functions.”
____ “I have no use for humans.” King denied, “Build your creations from scratch. My virus has no need of human intellect. It will work on its own.”
____ “But the tests…”
____ “Do as I say.” He left at that. Joetex frowned and bit his lip, but had nothing else to say. He couldn’t forget his purpose here, his work not just satiating his possibilities. It was a union between him and King, one where King held all the power at that. Pocketing his grievances, the Professor turned and walked out too.

____ Tiny withered men grew in jars. Their eyes hadn’t grown in yet. The strain was the only thing that would give them life, yet they looked already dead. Life without life. Joetex eyed them one by one, eyes peeled for any extrahuman features. Fangs and claws were simple to achieve; he was going for more outlandish. The undead were efficient test subjects, quick to learn the functions of their complex and bizarre new bodies. Pain was no issue, ineffective limbs no great loss. Elias and Dr. Ruxus monitored.
____ “Progress?”
____ Joetex paused, “Fangs coming in nicely. Lack of nerves makes up for any mistakes. It’ll use whatever is available to it for hunting prey.”
____ The last batch had been successful, but he hadn’t been too bold with the changes made. This time things were going to be different.
____ “This is bloody madness.” Dr. Ruxus complained, “Past the randomness of nature, and yet we as men are still making freaks when given the choice.”
____ “Freaks are made by their decisions, not birth.” Elias noted coolly.
____ “Well then that’s our decisions, in that case. What good are these braindead killers?”
____ “To fix a broken and repetitive world. Isn’t that correct, Harold?”
____ Joetex was only half-listening up to that part, eyeing the small specimens. Was this the militarization of his projects, the thing the board had dreaded so four years ago? Or was it due change? Again he thought of that damn college. The playground. They were all still there, he bet. And he would be too, if not for Apostle. Have your doubts, Dr. Ruxus, for the sake of the old children. But the Professor had his new world now: the one he’d built.
____ He pressed against the glass, “New children.”

____Stinging light pierced through her shut eyelids, a harsh wake-up call for a harsh day, “Get up, Maddy. We’ve gotta keep moving.”
____There was nothing to see but the cold beam of a flashlight pointing her way. She shut her eyes again, “It’s still dark out.”
____“I know. C’mon.” A reassuring hand urged her to her feet.
____Madalyn stood and stared. Just dark woods around, all painted blue in the cold morning. What could be seen in the dark, anyway. The winged moon in the waning distance offered little light. She shivered and, dipping her hands into her sleeves, rubbed her eyes.
____Jet twitched his wrist, the beam of the flashlight wavering as he did so. He must’ve been signaling something, but it was lost on her. He frowned, “I said c’mon, sis.”
____He seemed to be motioning to the others, all of whom were already up and about. Irene was leaning on a tree, discussing something with Carlos quietly. Benji—Madalyn’s other older brother—was similarly standing far off next to his girlfriend Ritu. Between the two couples Jesse was kicking about, eyeing the dirt he struck with lost interest.
____“You woke me up last.” Madalyn softly noted.
____Heard her or not, Jet spoke up, “What?”
____“I said you woke me up last.” Despite the request for increased volume, her second take was even quieter than the first. But he seemed to get the drift okay, nodding as he flicked the torch off and—she didn’t know the word—“sheathed” it in his coat.
____Jet was tall and broad. He used to be military too, and one could tell by the look of him: better prepared than anyone with plenty of pockets, an actual holster for his gun, and a vest holding all manner of survival gear. He had a knife, several tools, carabiners, even a grenade. She by comparison was practically still in her pajamas. Not that she could be blamed for that. Everything had gone so suddenly.
____She breathed. It was sharp and cold. She rubbed her hands together. Also cold. It was now autumn, all right. Nature had it out for them when the undead were giving them a break. She felt out of place here in the middle of nowhere, discomfort pressing on multiple fronts. It made her feel small and she hated it. But there was no point in voicing that or any of her other opinions—Jet was in charge; and for good reason she had to admit. He took and kept the lead.

____The small group trudged. It had only been one day since the last zombie sighting, and those usually had everyone in cautious and somber quiet.
____“Stay close.” Jet warned over his shoulder—undoubtedly directed at her in the back, “Don’t lag behind. I don’t want to lose anyone else.”
____Their group used to be bigger: Ralph and Stephie from Jet’s work and “other Ralph” who’d come with Jesse. Both Ralphs died on the same day and they’d lost track of Stephie two days later. Nobody had seen her since.
____Madalyn kicked at the ground a bit and only slightly moved faster, still at the back of the group. Rummaging through her pockets, she fished out her MP3 player. It was an ugly, almost grimy color of turquoise—and a far outdated device in its own right at that—but she treasured it nonetheless, especially considering everything else she’d lost recently. In the heat of the moment she only had time to grab a few things. So while her brothers grabbed food and weapons, she took her music. It was a great time killer, and she preferred it to company. Less confrontational. Gave her time to muse, and the old thing had superb battery life. It’d last her a good long time. But not forever.
____She wasn’t sure where they were going. Her brothers insisted that there would be a place somewhere out here where people would have had enough warning and prep time to fortify and make a safe place. But that seemed like a long shot. Maybe they were just walking in circles until they were all dead, chasing the horizon just to motivate them to keep moving.
____“____…!” They’d been walking for a while. Someone was talking to her. Madalyn looked and removed one earbud. It was Irene, “Everything okay, Maddy?”
____Madalyn liked Irene a lot. She was fierce and independent; she spoke her mind and never had to apologize for it. And she looked after Madalyn, perhaps fond of her, maybe finding this small girl quaint. Madalyn (especially in times like this) wished she was more like her. It was as if the woman had stolen her spine and added it to her own. Any time the two spent talking was much appreciated. Maybe they could have been very good friends or more. But Irene was too frequently busy talking to Jet, or to her boyfriend Carlos. He was boring and Madalyn didn’t know what Irene saw in him.
____“Everything’s fine.” She said plainly. Perhaps they’d talk more if she ever had anything interesting to say, but she came up short on ideas. Perhaps she was boring too.
____“You’re always so withdrawn.” Irene told her, nodding to the pocket where the MP3 player resided, “When that thing finally dies you’ll find yourself rather lost when you can’t deafen yourself to us and the world around you.”
____“I prefer it.” Madalyn said quietly, “When everything is shut out it’s easier to pretend it’s all normal again.”
____Irene smirked and snatched the loosened earbud, holding it up to listen, “…You rock out harder than expected.”
____Madalyn smiled but couldn’t find her words in time: missing the conversational beat that everyone else always seemed to manage and leaving silence hanging too long.
____Irene continued first, returning the earbud, “Chin up, kid. It’s gonna be all right.”
____Say something to her. Madalyn knew she should, tried to make the thoughts tangible and actually speak them. But what could she say? What might she say? Wouldn’t it be awkward? What if Irene was only small-talking and didn’t actually like her much? She couldn’t tell.
____“Irene.” There came Carlos, “Jet’s found something up ahead.”
____“You make it sound ominous.” She said, drawing her pistol and following him.
____There they went. Madalyn sighed. There went another chance again, and she just withdrew further into her shell morosely. It was probably better this way. She’d have messed up somehow, made it awkward, ruined it. Irene seemed so strong and dependable… but she liked Carlos. Maddy was just a cute little sister. She put the earbuds back in and silently followed.
____Jet stood up ahead as the trees thinned out, “Hey, take a look.”
____There was a makeshift fence at the edge of the woods, with the roofs of houses visible behind it. It was a promising sign. He broke into a run, going close to the wall and running alongside it, seeing how far it went.
____“Wait a minute!” Benji shouted, trying to keep up. The two followed the fence until they found a door, kept bound in rope. Jet drew his knife and began sawing it, giving up halfway against its toughness.
____“Maddy!” He called loud enough for even her to hear, “Maddy, you still got that machete?”
____Madalyn caught up and, reaching into the flattened old backpack she wore, drew the weapon. It was all she had, not trusted with firearms it seemed. Jet took it and, muscles stiff with effort, began hacking away until the door was opened.
____“Seems to have been bound a long time ago.” He noted, handing the machete back to his sister, “Might not be looted. Let’s take a look.”
____A large but dilapidated house stood past the fence, alone against the woods and a long driveway. Other houses they had seen remained further off in the distance. All seemed empty and quiet.
____“Eerie.” Carlos noted, “Be careful, Jet. I’ve got a strange feeling.”
____“Seconded.” Irene said, “Maddy, don’t come in until we say so.”
____“By myself?!”
____Jesse put a hand on her shoulder, “I’ll stay withcha.”
____The other five entered through the back porch, swiftly checking the first floor while she and Jesse remained in the yard. He seemed shifty to Madalyn, so she kept herself a few paces from him at the closest, waiting curled in silence with her sleeved arms around her knees. Finally she heard Benji calling her name, rising and entering.
____It was dim inside, lit only in the daylight through the narrow windows, but was otherwise a fully-furnished home. The others stood around the large open kitchen, as Carlos rooted through drawer after drawer looking for goods. Food high in preservatives lay piled on the countertop.
____“Seems like a real hoarder.” Irene noted of the amounts.
____“Almost too much.” Jet agreed.
____Madalyn picked up one of the cans, checking the date. She frowned and spoke, “Stockpiled before the outbreak.”
____She had been too quiet, and only Benji noting the same louder got a reaction from the others. Before she could complain that she’d discovered it first, a loud thumping noise came from above Madalyn’s head. She looked up.
____Jet raised his weapon, noting the noise again, “Someone’s up there.”
____Carlos glanced to the door, seeing no sign of forced entry, “I doubt it’s a zombie got in. Owner might still be here.”
____“Maddy, stay here.” Jet moved to the stairs.
____“I wanna come…!”
____“Then stay behind me.” Irene told her, following Carlos and Jet as they carefully ascended, “Benji, if they’re still here check for a car in the garage.”
____He obeyed while the four of them moved upstairs. There were more footsteps heard up there in the dark, and the muffled sound of groaning behind closed doors as well. Jet followed it, down the dark hall. As he neared the shut door, the sound of squelching could be heard on the other side. He creaked it open.
____There were two men inside the dimly-lit room, one gutting the other with a blade. Blood pooled generously on the wooden floor, ripples shining with what little daylight managed its way inside. Two open laptops were set up on a desk behind them, actually on and getting power in this place though their purpose couldn’t be guessed at. In the corner stood a whiteboard, notes about the zombies scribbled all over it. But in the largest words of all were written three things: LIFE, BLOOD, SOUND. It was circled.
____The killing stranger had long blonde hair and wore a large cloak of greatly intricate design. What of his arm reached beyond to hold his weapon was heavily armored, and he looked dreadfully out of place here. The victim only wore simple slacks and a dress shirt, kneeling now killed and maimed and unable to provide any insight to what was occurring here. Jet paled and froze at the sight of it all, seeming unsure of what to do.
____The stranger saw him, rising to his full height and facing the newcomers. His eyes were black and reflected no light in that place, and he said nothing.
____“Ah…!” Jet just stood and slammed the door shut, and even as he did so the sword came hurling through it. The blade punched cleanly through, sunk deep enough for part of it to pierce Jet’s torso just above the stomach. He startled back, clutching the quick-to-bleed wound and ushering for all of them behind to retreat, “Get out, get out!”
____They all stumbled their way back downstairs in a hurry, hearing the stamping footsteps of the stranger following them. They’d come across something here they really shouldn’t have, and they needed to uncome across it all the faster. Jet allowed Carlos to take the lead, and he ran to the front door and hastily unlocked it.
____“Out, now!” He barked, ushering Madalyn and Irene out. Gunshots could be heard behind them.
____They spilled out into the front of the house, where Benji, Ritu, and Jesse were waiting by a van in the driveway. Ritu was twirling the keys she’d found on one finger, and Irene yapped at her for standing there casually, “Get in now! Now!”
____Out came Carlos, running, and then out came the stranger after him. He’d been shot in the face and yet was still walking, and in one metalclad arm he held Jet by the throat aloft as he strode forward.
____“Jet!!” Benji shouted, but he didn’t have time for vengeance. With speed unbefitting one so armored the stranger hurled Jet right at those gathered around the van, his back shattering the windows as they dove out of the way. He fell crumped to the pavement, and the stranger deftly moved forward, blade drawn.
____They all scattered, Carlos and Irene keeping their distance and firing their pistols into the enemy with no effect whatsoever. Madalyn had thrown herself to the ground to avoid Jet, and she now crawled quickly out of the mysterious foe’s path, breaths coming in quick panicked gasps. He reached and she felt his armored hand grip her head and lift. She screamed, “HELP!!!”
____“SISTER!!” Came Jet’s roaring reply. Despite being stabbed, despite being thrown against the car, he was on his feet and racing back over. He dove and tackled the stranger, using all his strength to break the grip on Madalyn. The metal fingers relented and she scrambled into Irene’s catching arms.
____“Into the—!” Irene began to say, but her escape was cut off. In the complete panic of this invincible man after them, Jesse had just grabbed the keys from Ritu and hopped into the van. It was speeding off now, ditching the rest of them to deal with whatever this situation was. It was their problem now. Irene screamed at him and fired her pistol at the fast-retreating vehicle, but it survived and drove fast out of sight.
____Madalyn looked from her to the van and back to her brother in shock. The sword was back out now, flashing silver in the clouded daylight, and the stranger was overpowering even Jet as they grappled. No one was stronger than Jet. Madalyn saw red on the blade and paled, drawing her machete and breaking into a run to help her brother. But Irene gripped her tight and halted her.
____Jet caught the sword as it was swung down upon him. His bleeding hands trembled as he tried to hold it off, and he glanced to Benji and shouted, “Run! RUN!!”
____His younger brother took the hint and sprinted, stopping only to help Irene drag his sister away and into a proper flight. They fled, only Madalyn daring to look back over her shoulder as she tried to break free to help her dying brother.
____The sword had bit into Jet’s shoulder as the two fought on the driveway back there. He screamed and clenched his teeth hard, just lifting his pistol and continuing to fire into the stranger’s face. Each shot landed but failed to kill, the stranger completely unhindered. He drew the blade out and rose, continuing to follow after the fleeing others at a walking pace. Jet would not lie there and die, not when his siblings remained threatened, and he rose and again threw himself into the stranger without hesitation.
____But the man turned, caught him, and brought him crashing back down. He gripped Jet’s neck tight, and his other hand dropped the sword and then tore the grenade from Jet’s vest. The pin was ripped off and the bomb held down close to both their heads, as Jet squirmed haplessly and pounded limply at the grip, “Hey…! What’re you doing?!”
____But the man didn’t care. Even as the grenade burst, killing Jet instantly and obliterating so much of the stranger’s flesh, still he rose and continued forward. His one good arm retrieved the sword and he paced forward after the remaining prey, already beginning to mend it all.

____It was raining. They stayed hunkered down in a restaurant, though Madalyn remained outside sat on top one of the tables. The rattling of rain on the stiff plastic umbrella above was all she could hear past her music, and she could see little past her sleeves folded atop her knees.
____Benji was inside, taking the loss hard and needing Ritu’s consoling constantly to not just go storming off seeking revenge. None of them could expect justice or a fitting end against the zombies, but Jet had been killed by a man. Not that Benji needed to worry about never seeing him again: he was doubtlessly following. Only Jesse had realistically escaped.
____The shifting of the table under more weight clued Madalyn in that someone was sitting beside her. She glanced only slightly, seeing Irene there next to her. She didn’t say anything, knowing that Madalyn couldn’t hear, and just permitted her to hug clingingly without a word.
____They sat there in silence for a long while, Madalyn just letting the music melt all the world away until it was only the two of them on that table in the comfort of her mind—the one place left where she still felt safe and comfortable. But reality would not let her stay there forever, and at last Irene lifted her head. She was scowling off in the distance, and as Madalyn followed the line of sight she could see him way down the street: stepping into view and silently approaching.
____The killer. All his injuries had healed, and even his cloak shredded in the blast that killed her brother was inexplicably fine again. He was still after them, eerily masked in the distance and the rain, approaching with his sword in hand.
____“Split up.” Madalyn muttered, unable to hear if the words were really leaving her mouth or not, “He can only follow one. Just leave us behind and survive.”
____But Irene said nothing, drawing her pistol and going to alert the others. She wouldn’t give up on them. Or perhaps Madalyn had in fact spoken wordlessly.

____Their pursuer did not relent, even as the hours stretched on overnight, mindlessly strolling after them without ever once ceasing. He moved at a faster pace than a walking zombie did, hot on their heels as their sprinting gave way to catching their breath. They had to stay on the move overnight. Madalyn was too tired for such desperate marches, and Jet was dead and could not support her, so Irene carried her upon her back in his stead.
____Madalyn clung to her, getting what little shuteye she could while in the constant sensation of movement. She was the only one unable to keep up, she was well aware, but the others wouldn’t give up on her so easily. Eventually it would cost them, she assumed. A wiser tactician would just leave her behind.
____“I can carry her.” She heard Benji quietly offer, but Irene just kept moving.
____“You’re much too young, much too thin. I’ve got her.”
____“But she’s my family.” Benji muttered, “And even if I am too young, I’m the eldest brother now. I’m all she’s got left. I have to try.”
____“Don’t put all that on yourself.” Came Carlos’ voice.
____“Yeah.” Irene said, “Don’t rush into Jet’s shoes before you’re ready. Consider us all like family. Maddy’s like a younger sister to me already. So I’ve got her. You’re not the only one who wants to protect her.”
____ Younger sister. She supposed it made sense. Madalyn said nothing, appearing asleep, holding on to these people keeping her alive. Wishing she could do more for them.

____Without a vehicle they had no choice but to miserably flee day after day. The stranger only ever seemed to walk, but he never halted under any circumstances and so had ample time to catch up whenever they were forced to stop or rest. On the third day he ceased to be their only problem, as they cut through a township and found zombies within. At last the horde had stumbled upon them.
____Benji now tried to lead in Jet’s absence, though in truth Carlos was more fit. He blew away two undead blocking their exit through the pharmacy they were looting when first coming upon the zombies and led on, “This way, quick!”
____“Right behind!” Irene said in tandem, capping another two out on the street that stumbled after their group.
____Madalyn only contributed by stabbing one with her machete as it ran up. The frankly-unsharpened blade got stuck in the rotting flesh and she had to pull hard to free her weapon of it, nearly falling behind in the process. Benji grasped her and helped her escape. They all stumbled along.
____Fortune might’ve favored them had there only been five zombies to deal with, but no less than eighteen more could be seen shambling out of the deserted buildings lining the street. Carlos paled and led the way as the encirclement closed, trying to calculate the best path to shoot his way through. Him and Irene both aimed and fired freely into the way ahead most free of enemies, opening up a momentary gap in the dead. She whirled and motioned, “Now! Hurry!”
____Those two worked well together, so often as a perfect unit. Feeling more like a liability, Madalyn hurried through the gap they had created, trying not to stumble on the corpses.
____She halted as she made it through. She could see the stranger walking out into the road ahead and advancing. The undead were behind her. As Benji caught up, he saw it too and grasped her, moving to escape through one of the stores to their right instead, “This way, Maddy!”
____She stumbled after him, following as he threw the door open and raced inside, and she screamed as a zombie lurched out from behind one of the tall shelves of books. Benji caught and shot it, but he wasn’t a good enough aim to kill it with one bullet, and its open mouth fell upon his shoulder.
____“Ah!” He shoved it off and Madalyn stepped in and began hacking it to pieces with her weapon. Even as it stopped moving she continued until Benji pulled her back, looking desperately at his sister, “Maddy! He’s here—don’t you stop moving…!”
____In came Irene, quickly grasping Madalyn’s hand and pulling her along. The rest of their number piled in and continued racing away from the closing dead. Out the back exit they went, darting between buildings. Benji followed at the rear, clutching his wound but not giving up yet while he could still be useful. Madalyn couldn’t help but keep glancing back at him as they ran, knowing he’d been bit.
____At last they escaped the horde enough to stop for even a moment, Irene and Carlos quickly reloading their pistols while they could. Benji stumbled and fell, hacking up blood onto the open ground. He sat up and wiped his mouth, glancing first to Carlos, “I’m not like my brother. Some replacement.”
____“You’ll be all right.” Came the immediate comforting lie.
____“Yeah…” He staggered back to his feet, hearing hisses all about the new street they’d come across, “There’s more still.”
____“Sh*t…” Carlos muttered, seeing the undead spill out after them. There’d been more than eighteen after all, and their pursuer on top of that. He looked to Benji and spoke more realistically now, “Think you can hold some of them off?”
____Jet would’ve been brave. Benji nodded, “Okay. Look after my girls.”
____“No!” Ritu shouted, Carlos catching her even as she started toward her boyfriend. They both recognized the look in his eyes, and now Carlos dragged her away in retreat just as Irene did to Madalyn.
____Benji stayed behind, pistol raised and killing the zombies spilling out after the group. Those who raced past he grasped and threw back, holding off as many as he could as the numbers swelled. He screamed as he fought against them, being loud for once in his life. Sound, Madalyn realized: the words on the whiteboard. He was doing all he could to draw them to himself.
____“There’s no time!” Carlos barked as Ritu struggled in his grip. He led the way forward, Irene close behind, and they ran: constantly changing direction as more and more zombies appeared in the way. Ducking the shamblers, they fled.
____Desperate minutes passed. Carlos led the way, hoping that escaping the township might also rid them of the massed undead, but it seemed that they had caught enough of the scent already. There were no other living things in the area to throw them off otherwise. Their pursuer the undead had ignored plainly.
____Along the street they at last found a working car, though the gradually closing zombies offered little time to get in and check it. Carlos found the keys and revved the thing to life, only to scowl afterwards. “All the gas has been siphoned out!” he said, “If I can find some we can swing back around.”
____That wouldn’t be easy, especially while on the constant timer that was the undead’s presence. They hastily abandoned the vehicle and fled. Carlos still led the way, eyes darting with every pace forward. Where would fuel be that looters wouldn’t have already checked? There was the hose by the car already, where its tank had been emptied. Whoever took it probably wouldn’t have stopped at just borrowing the one…
____Gunshots filled the air as they ran from building to building down the street, dispatching any zombie that stumbled too close. Madalyn tried to keep up, tried to help wherever she could. Those two would run out of bullets eventually, then it’d just be her and her machete. And Ritu had nothing to fight with. They wouldn’t last long then.
____We’re not going to make it. Madalyn miserably realized.
____A vast tent at the end of the street caught her eye. It was away from the other buildings, all on its own, and knocked-over plastic chairs and long cables surrounded its entrance. It looked a great deal like one of the tents that helped house the outdoor music festivals she’d frequented before the outbreak. It took Madalyn back, that sight, but more importantly if there had been music there at one time there might be supplies unlooked-for as well.
____She tugged on Irene’s arm, “That way! Music festival!”
____“Huh?” It caught Carlos’ attention.
____“There might be generators!” Madalyn told him, “Might be gas-powered!”
____He followed her line of thought, nodding, “Hurry!”
____There were zombies shambling all over the street now, as if another arm of the horde had sprouted to close in upon them. The four ran as fast as they could to close the distance, and undead followed behind in a vast pack. There were so many now, far too many to shoot through. And the stamina to just keep outrunning them was long gone.
____Irene made it first, opening the tent flap and immediately having to clear the undead she found already inside. Carlos followed to help her, knowing they were dead if the retreat was halted even for a few short moments. Ritu stayed close to them, while Madalyn was behind, stopping to slash the face of a runner closing the distance behind her. In she went, feeling the tendrils of panic on the back of her neck.
____Inside was flat and grassy, with white plastic tables and chairs lying overturned all about. At the far end was a music stage: big speakers and vacant soundboards standing unused. Sure enough there were generators about it, and Carlos was already checking one while Irene covered him. She saw Madalyn looking around and snapped her out of her spaced-out observing, “Maddy, come on!”
____She shook herself out of it, whirling as she heard moaning behind and cutting down another zombie entering the tent. It was her mistake to stop even that long, as the white flap opened and in bounded a dog. Madalyn startled back, seeing its matted fur and exposed flesh, but by then it was already mid-pounce and upon her. She fell yelping, and as a gunshot rid the beast from her she sat up and looked at her bit bleeding arm.
____“Maddy, come on!!” Ritu cried, running up to her and dragging her away from the entrance. She glimpsed the wound and paused, as Irene rushed back to help them. More zombies were spilling in by the second, and Irene emptied her pistol into them in vain. Madalyn scrambled to her feet. Irene hadn’t seen the bite, she realized.
____Zombies were coming in from all directions, forcing their way through the tent’s weak walls. Carlos shouted from the back, having found the precious fuel, “We’ve got it, let’s go!”
____The window was closing. They probably wouldn’t even be able to get back to the car. Madalyn looked to Irene, then to her bleeding wound and then to the music stand. Thinking of what she had seen at the house, and what her brother had just done. Life, blood and sound. It was the three things that attracted them most.
____It dawned on her what she had to do at that moment, for the sake of those remaining. For the sake of Irene. Even if it would never be reciprocated, Madalyn’s love was more important than her life. Worth dying for. She had been following along, complaining, contributing little, being a liability. Irene and Carlos had stuck with the group, staying to help protect this little family even if it was an oath unsaid and unacknowledged. But in truth the family had died—Madalyn was here to protect them.
____She turned and shoved Irene in Carlos’ direction, then whirled and bolted to the stage. Running as fast as she could, Madalyn dashed to the soundboard.
____“Maddy!” She heard Irene shout, “Ritu, grab her!”
____But she didn’t, having been the only one to see the bite, following Madalyn’s line of thinking and silently permitting what she was doing. Ritu turned and fled after Carlos, knowing it was time to leave.
____Trembling from blood loss, Madalyn hastily took out her MP3 player and plugged it in. Fierce electronic music began pounding out of the speakers. Her music. Madalyn turned it up until it was blasting, screaming at the zombies before her, “Come on! COME ON!!”
____Needing more than noise, she took her machete and cut herself with it, fresh blood running down her shoulders. Slowly, one by one or in clusters, the undead faced her and began hobbling over. The great big swarm fell upon her position.
____Irene stared in disbelief, stopping in her tracks. Carlos seemed to understand, seeing the blood and the look in Madalyn’s eyes, grabbing Irene and forcibly fleeing with her. For just one moment they related, both only wanting Irene to survive. There was no time to appreciate the sacrifice or exchange final farewells.
____“I love you.” Madalyn said to her. But they were already gone, those three who now just might live, and the din of the music drowned out all her words.
____Zombies quickly swarmed around her. Struggling to maintain composure, Madalyn began hacking away at them as they approached one by one, sinking the blade into their soft rotten skulls. The horde only continued to mindlessly shamble up to the resisting girl, giving her a small bite or two not devouring her outright. Perhaps they knew she was a lost cause, infected already. It was somehow unsatisfying, Madalyn punishing their docile nature with more vengeful cuts. It was bloody work, but at least she had kept them from continuing their pursuit. Although it didn’t stop all her enemies.
____Him. The stranger entered, sword drawn, walking unpersuaded by the scent of blood or the sound of music. He ignored her and headed for the exit, undoubtedly still pursuing the others. Madalyn’s heart swelled with rage, knowing what he’d done and would continue to do. The zombies were satisfied for now, but he wouldn’t stop unless he was made to stop.
____Grabbing her machete, she fought her way through the passive corpses and leapt from the stand, her screams only barely audible above the pounding music. Weapon raised, she raced for the man and swung down on the back of his head with all her might. Punishment for ignoring her.
____As if practiced beforehand, he whirled and caught her wrist mid-swing. He then turned and easily threw her aside, Madalyn crashing into the plastic chairs and tables cluttering the area. He resumed his slow walk towards the exit.
____Madalyn scrambled to her feet. She felt lightheaded from the bloodloss, severe pain from the bites, dizziness from the infection still coursing its way through her. She was dying, but she wouldn’t do so lying down. “Fight me!” she shouted after the man, gripping the blade tight in both hands.
____“You are already dead.” He spoke at last, clearly, his words almost seeming to cut through the volume of the music, not needing to shout over it as she did.
____That wasn’t good enough for her. Madalyn again threw herself at her opponent. Wanting to buy time for the ones she loved, wanting to avenge the ones who had died. For Jet, poor Jet, who this man had personally killed, and for Benji who had died of circumstances brought about by it all. She could die after she had her revenge, “You killed my brothers, you bastard!!”
____Again he easily parried her weapon, turning and redirecting her blade with his. His ironclad hand thrust forth and grasped her face. With supernatural strength he threw her across the room, the girl crashing into more tables and slumping over.
____Pain sprung from several points in her body, Madalyn groaning. Her original symptoms hadn’t gone away, the new pain adding to the old. It was twice the struggle to stand up this time, but she did it anyway. She wouldn’t die lying down. This was her life, her music, her friends and family she was defending… she would never let what the rest of the world, even her own body, tell her anything different.
____She would stand here: this dumb meek girl in her pajamas with a plain machete standing defiantly before this foe: this supernatural force of a man in his complex armor and coat of regal golds and violets, armed with a silver sword of brilliant make. She didn’t feel any stronger or any braver, but she stood defiantly before him nonetheless. Madalyn hobbled to the exit, standing defiantly in the way of her enemy. He would deal with her, like it or not.
____“We both have swords.” She shouted at him, brandishing her machete, “Why not settle this with them? You want my loved ones, you go through me! To the death!”
____“Wretched child.” He told her, “You fight for a falsehood that could never be. Your love is and always would be unreciprocated, being imperfect, and to die alone is your fate. When she perishes she will think only of him.”
____“Maybe so, but that doesn’t make what I feel any less real! This is my song, and my love, and my moment in time!” Madalyn cried, assuming a defensive stance. This time he would have to come to her, through her, if he wished to pass.
____He seemed to begrudgingly acknowledge this, waving one armored hand wordlessly at the undead. Instantly they abandoned their hobbled pursuit, standing perfectly idle and just staring blankly. The man then held his sword aloft: blade gleaming silver in the light as he raised it. It was of a far finer make than her oversized knife could ever be. But Madalyn didn’t care about any advantages he might have. She didn’t even care about surviving the fight. If she even landed a single blow on this seemingly unstoppable man, she’d have proven a point to the universe. It didn’t matter if he healed or not—she would have always cut him.
____He advanced toward her, and his blade moved as lightning. He had assumed no stance but it didn’t matter, his movements too quick to require the predetermined positioning. Madalyn did not have the luxury, fortunate enough to have her sword close enough to block where he was aiming.
____Clang!! Her blade almost flung back into her from the force, his stroke far stronger than her block. She winced and braced herself, immediately reminding herself to account for his strength when clashing blades, “Sh*t!”
____Instantly he swung again, Madalyn blocking this blow as well. His sword slid off hers and cut across her shoulder as it went, leaving a small but painful cut. She cried out, processing the hurt and using it to fuel her fires instead. Stop playing. Damn him. Fight back. Cut him. This is your music. Even if it kills you cut him.
____Madalyn screamed and threw herself against the man, swinging her machete wildly. He was backing up now, calmly parrying her every move with expert precision.
____“…” He looked unimpressed with her, sidestepping one swing and thrusting his sword cleanly through her. The blade effortlessly punched through her gut and was wrenched out smoothly, a quick puncture to the side of her belly. He grabbed her hair and yanked it, pulling her and throwing her against the stage.
____“Ah!” Madalyn gasped for breath, taking a second or two to even process the wound as quick and clean as it had been. Tears welled in her eyes, not just from the pain but from the frustration and fury welling up in her. She was going to die.
____Sheer willpower kept her on her feet, anger making her tremble. Every movement was now murder on the wound. Madalyn grasped her weapon tightly and threw herself back at her enemy. Again they clashed, blades meeting blades amongst the pounding electronic music. The horde of zombies were their only audience.
____Please God, please! Just one cut. Just give me at least one hit on him! Please!! Madalyn silently begged as she threw herself at him again and again. There was no particular training or discipline in her attacks, only anger and love and willpower. She would do it for Jet and Irene and anyone else this monster had taken or intended to take. She would do it for all of them, to be the one who made him bleed against his will, defied him in the face of death and stole even a small victory against him.
____Clang!! Steel met steel as their blades clashed, her machete hovering dangerously close to his pallid face. Madalyn, both hands on her sword, pressed with all her might to get the knife to his cheek. Yet he, only wielding his weapon in a single hand, held her off.
____“Damn you!!” Madalyn shouted. If she couldn’t force her way through she’d find another way. Shoving with all her might, she suddenly released the weapon, moving one hand to catch where it’d fall. The machete dropped.
____It never made it to her hand. Seeing what she was doing, he lunged out and caught it first. The machete turned and cut her, and as she staggered back he flipped his own sword in his hand and caught it by the blade. In one fluid motion, just as he turned to cut with the machete, the other sword came swinging handle-first and struck her across the head. Madalyn cried out and landed on her bleeding stomach, all the world spinning as blood gushed out her struck temple.
____He strode to her and sunk the machete into her left hand. The blade punched through her and stuck deep into the ground. Madalyn screamed as the rusty weapon pierced her palm into the earth, and unbearable pain shot up through her arm.
____She hadn’t cut him. Gradually the song playing overhead faded.
____The stranger stooped down beside her, his dead eyes locked onto her. “Beg for mercy.” he commanded.
____Madalyn breathed heavily, unable to stomach the pain all across her body. Her arm begged to be deprived of feeling, hurting with an intensity she’d never known. But still her fire burned on inside her. She looked up at him, meeting his inhuman eyes, “Never…!”
____Expression unchanging, he took his own blade and sunk it into her wrist, plunging it into the ground just as deep as the machete had. Madalyn shrieked again as she felt its steel running through her flesh, cutting as it moved. He then grasped the machete and powerfully wrenched it out, her still pinned by the arm by the new weapon in her.
____“You have nothing to gain from denying me.” He said, “Beg for mercy.”
____She screamed and cried, struggling to maintain her composure before her enemy, “Go to hell…!”
____He took the machete and sunk it into her arm, strong enough to punch through her bone, then grasped his own sword and pulled it out of her.
____“Only her hope of preserving innocence will perish alongside you. That which you love about her will be gone.” He said, entirely too calmly, “As for you, you will be in the abyss soon enough, wishing you could have lived even a second more if it would mean a moment longer bereft of the torture. You would spit in the face of all of this for your pride alone?”
____She didn’t reply to him, overwhelmed with the pain. Continuing the torment, he reached over and plunged his weapon through her arm, wrenching out the machete and then stabbing her with it through the elbow, making his way toward her shoulder sword-by-sword with each fresh wound.
____“Such irrational beings do not deserve to live.” He told her, “Be irrational while you still have those choices to make. I alone know what awaits you in that place.”
____She stared up at the ceiling, barely able to see amongst the tears in her eyes, barely able to breathe or move or feel anything but the overwhelming pain. She spoke in sobs, “I love you, Irene. I love you.”
____Finally he seemed satisfied with his work, tearing the machete from her and tossing it aside. He rose, wiping the blood from his own sword, then turned and continued pursuing those who had escaped, “The soul perishes, the body rises to serve. And the Noise recedes ever gradually.”
____Madalyn laid there, quickly bleeding to death. As everything around her seemed to fade away, all she could think of was the fact that she’d be one of them soon. No more listening to her MP3. No more complaining to her brothers in the mornings. No more being carried through the night. Just another undead to spread the infection, or to be dispatched without a thought.
____Maybe Madalyn had bought the others enough time to get away. Maybe they had even made it to the car. But she’d never get to know for certain. She died alone.

____Burke led the way through the empty field, with Gauge and the other three trudging behind. The day before they had encountered a large force of undead, likely corralled into a small army after days of shambling after other humans. They wouldn’t be thrown off easily. As they marched Gauge kept up the rear, spying the undead behind them slowly growing more numerous. He still couldn’t believe this was his life now, thrown into the apocalypse with only these others who happened to be at the same store at that time for company. Old off-duty Burke, awkward Joseph, and that check-out girl Mary. Kind, sweet Mary.
____Only blunt Rich had joined later. He slacked his pace until he could match Gauge, grumbling quietly to him, “You know we’re done for, right?”
____“Explain.”
____“We should’ve ditched Joseph if we wanted to live.” Rich muttered, “Useless, whining, liability. He costs us time when we move, time at night, and time at morning. It’s no-sh*t-Sherlock why those stumbling corpses are able to keep up with us.”
____Gauge’s gaze fell to Joseph walking slowly close to the head of the pack, with Mary staying close and supporting him lest he trail way behind. He shrugged, “I’m not… responsible for the guy. He was just there with us. I can’t say who we leave behind.”
____“Sooner or later we’ll have to decide who among us is willing to do what it takes, in order to live. We can’t carry weak links forever.” With that Rich went on ahead.
____Gauge frowned. Things were hell, granted. But it hadn’t even been two weeks. He wasn’t about to kill anyone, let alone let anyone die indirectly because of him.
____Up ahead old Burke broke into a jog, making his way up a small slope in the flat terrain and getting a good look up ahead. He scowled, “There’s more ahead. Two o’clock.”
____Mary caught up to him, “How many? What do we do?”
____“Don’t lose your head. We’ll veer leftwards. Come on, everyone. Gauge!”
____Gauge snapped at the order, thinking about what Rich had said. He’d fallen behind.

____“Careful…! Sprinters!” Burke shouted at the lot of them as he ran. This second horde had fast zombies leading the pack, running on ahead of their slower compatriots.
____Just as Rich had predicted Joseph was already falling behind. Mary slowed to help him, and so Gauge slowed to help her.
____“My legs…!” Joseph gasped, “I can’t keep running. I’ve been moving all day, every day! It never stops!”
____“I’ve got him.” Gauge told Mary. He looked behind them, “What the…?”
____One zombie had closed the distance much too fast, sprinting faster than any man realistically could. Quickly it twitched and shuddered its way up to the three of them. It nearly blurred as it moved, ducking down and hurling itself at the girl.
____“Sh*t!” Gauge threw Joseph back and leapt to Mary’s defense. The zombie tackled him and squirmed on top of him, snapping and biting. He held its face back with one hand and its claw with another, kicking and wrestling the monster as best he could. He could feel blood and pain on his hand and knew it was over, just like that.
____Burke came to his postmature rescue, kicking the twitchy zombie off and punching it down repeatedly. It writhed beneath him, clawing and biting even as its rotten skull was caved in under his clenched fist. He kicked it down once more when it finally stopped moving, rising back up and facing Gauge. Even now the blood welling on his bit torso signaled his death. Still he moved on as if things were normal, “Come on, you two.”
____Gauge himself hid his bit wrist and picked up the pace, helping the still-shocked Mary to her feet, “We’re coming.”
____They ran. Mary squeezed his hand repeatedly as they fled, “Gauge…!”
____He said nothing, hoping she hadn’t seen his wound.
____“Gauge!”
____He paled and faced her, “What is it?”
____She looked him right in the eye, “Thank you. You saved me back there.”
____Her words dissolved the taut feelings within his gut. She didn’t know, “No big deal.”
____Up ahead Burke had again taken the lead. He mounted a second hill and looked out, spying more people ahead. Not shambling, not zombies. People, soldiers even. SWAT by the looks of it from here. He waved and screamed, “Hey! Hey you, over here!”
____Rich caught up and imitated the motions, “Help! There’s zombies!”
____“Help us! Hey!!” Burke relaxed as the men turned and began jogging over, “Thank Christ.”
____Gauge and Mary caught up just in time for one of the oncoming troopers to aim, fire, and blow a bullet clean through Burke’s head. BANG!
____The two screamed and scattered in panic. Gauge kept his hand tightly on Mary’s and ran, paying no heed to where they were going or if it was the same way Rich was running. He didn’t even see Joseph anymore. It didn’t matter.
____They’re gonna blow us away. He figured as he ran, They saw Burke was bit, dammit. And now we’re all gonna pay the price. Better safe than sorry, they’re thinking. Dammit! Mary’s not even infected. None of us are even… well… sh*t!
____They were out in the open. Those soldiers would be up the hill and have a clear view any second now. Gauge looked around and, seeing a small patch of bushes, dove in with Mary in tow. The pathetic cover was the best he could muster in so short a time.
____“Gauge! What’s happening?! Why are we—?” Mary was still loud with panic. Gauge held his hand tightly over her mouth and curled up with her. Not caring for personal space in such a dire situation.
____“They’re gonna kill whoever’s bit.” He whispered to her, “But I’m gonna save you. Just be quiet… Just for a few seconds! Please!”
____Silence. The two shuddered in terror. Footsteps. Closer.
____Light came in as the bushes were parted. A huge man towered above them, reaching in without hesitation and yanking them both out. He was clad entirely in black army gear, save for a strange emblem upon his shoulder and breast. Goggles, helmet, mask: not a speck of skin was visible. He held an assault rifle in one hand, Mary’s eyes glued to it as he pulled her out and threw her to the open ground.
____“Wait, wait, listen…!” Gauge pleaded, showing the man his bite. Even though it was a mere scratch—Initiated tooth nicking his palm—its meaning was still plain. Gauge held the wound out like it was a passport, “I’m bit. She’s not! I’m infected!”
____“...” The man looked from Gauge to Mary and back, seemingly deep in thought. He slung the rifle back over his shoulder and drew a pistol from a black holster blending into his black belt. Apparently reaching a conclusion, he shrugged, “Hm.”
____The man reached out and grabbed Mary, holding the pistol to her face and firing point-blank. BANG!
____Gauge watched her die in an instant, the back of her head bursting like a smashed fruit. He screamed but shock throttled the noise prematurely, just sitting there gaping at her. The man holstered the pistol and yanked Gauge to his feet. He gestured in the direction the soldiers had initially come from, “Move.”
____Words finally returned to Gauge’s vocabulary: “I… I…”
____“Move it!” The trooper barked in a viciously deep voice. His rifle was again drawn, its barrel prodding Gauge’s back, “Unless you wanna die too.”
____Sadly, pathetically, regrettably, Gauge obeyed the order. He did not wish to die.

____The man led Gauge to the rest of his number: eight other men standing atop the hill where Burke had been shot. Rich and Joseph were there too, guns also to their backs, having also been rounded up it seemed. Gauge was put next to them, gritting his teeth and eyeing their captors. All black, all covered up, saying and doing nothing. His gaze fell to the distance where the zombies had come from. They were still on their way, slowly but surely. The faster ones were catching up by the second.
____After a few seconds a black van rolled up and stopped nearby. Two more soldiers exited the vehicle, one heading to the rear and unloading supplies while the other approached the group. He casually walked up, paying the gradually approaching undead no heed and instead sizing up the prisoners. At last he spoke.
____“Greetings.” He said, taking off his helmet.
____“Who the hell are you?” Rich got to the point, “PMC? Or just the government’s cleanup troops? Don’t tell me you’re Russians.”
____The man removed his goggles and balaclava as he replied, “Heavens no. We’re American citizens, like you.”
____He was an almost-dangerously plain-looking young man, no older than Gauge himself. He ran a gloved hand through his plain short brown hair and then stroked his plain short basic beard.
____“I’m Nick. I was a TA.” He explained, “And I am one of Apostle: the servants of King, the new Christ. May his words and deeds always be scribed in regal violet. We are here to tell you that the era of helplessness is over.”
His explanation did little to change Rich’s confused expression, “The new Christ?”
____Nick pointed skyward, where the winged moon was still barely visible in the daylight, “Have you not seen the signs? Our world is dead. It is time for all who wish to live to join King’s new world, and for the rest to depart into oblivion.”
____Gauge got to the point. His bite meant he was short on time as is, “What is it you want from us?”
____“I want to offer you the cure.” The soldier at the jeep was heading over now, carrying a black box. Nick accepted it and opened it up, drawing three syringes. Dubious-looking red liquid floated around within them. Nick held them out, “Who wants to live?”
____“Join or die.” One of the soldiers said plainly.
____Another repeated the sentiment, “Join or die.”
____“Hurry.” Nick warned, eyes glancing to the distance, “They’re getting closer, aren’t they Jack?”
____“Yeah, real close.” The trooper he spoke to watched the closest zombie stagger up to them all. He walked over to it as it limped up to the group, casually holding it back with his gun. It didn’t even react to him, just dumbly trying to get around him at most. Gauge watched speechless as the man simply played with it as if it were harmless.
____Nick looked to the three again, “I’m only going to offer this once. Join Apostle. Don’t die meaninglessly clinging to an already-gone world. Accept King’s cause. He alone can protect you. Choose to live.”
____“I…” Rich stared furiously at the needles, “But why, why did you kill Burke?!”
____“He would’ve said No.”
____“Why’d you kill Mary!?”
____Nick maintained his icy glare, “She’d have said No. …Jack.”
____“Whoops.” The trooper stood back and let the zombie through. It stumbled past one Apostle soldier after another as it slowly approached, having eyes only for Gauge and the two with him.
____“Well?” Nick said, “Do you swear fealty? Or do you want to die?!”
____Gauge grit his teeth, watching his friends squirm as the lone undead came close. Would they really bend the knee to murderers like this? Was there anything to be gained by not doing so? Dying valiantly for an invisible cause, applauded for doing so only by his fellow dead in the next life. If such a thing existed. Gauge felt the infection in his hand and the pangs of his life’s mistakes and lost opportunities.
____Swear fealty. This was like a forced conversion. A hand held to a fire until faith or oaths were denied to relieve it. If that was what this was he was an unfaithful man. Most men must be, he figured. All of them here were, anyway.
____“I swear, I swear!” Joseph cried out at last. He rolled up his sleeve, “Please let us live! Just don’t let that zombie eat us! We’ll do anything, okay?!”
____“Good. Now sit still and have faith.” Nick nodded to the soldier closest the undead and it was again held at bay. He approached Joseph with one of the needles, “This is King’s blood, and a dose of the virus mixed together.”
____Joseph visibly flinched, “The virus?!”
____“Yes. If you are faithful to your word, it will not harm you. The blood will protect you as long as you do King’s will and punish the corrupt of this world.” Nick injected Joseph quickly and then stood back, “Let’s see what he thinks of your begging.”
____At first nothing happened. Then Joseph’s legs suddenly gave out as if tripped by an invisible wire. He fell and convulsed and shouted, clutching his head. He spat something out, coughing it up bit-by-bit several times before finally sitting up. Gasps escaping his heaving chest as his mouth grasped for air. It looked horrible and painful, but as it passed Joseph was still alive.
____“Excellent.” Nick said, “Welcome to Apostle’s ranks. Keep your oaths and be rewarded with brotherhood and righteousness. Break them and King’s will shall bend against you. That virus remains within you, keep in mind. You’ll die.”
____Joseph stood shakily at first, trembling as he looked around at his new comrades. He slowly worked up the willpower to approach the zombie, marveling as it now ignored him too. Gauge watched with equal amazement.
____Nick turned to Rich next, “You’re still scowling at me, sir. Are you thinking about dying to prove a point?”
____“He was a good man.” Rich said, eyes falling to Burke’s corpse, “He was a good man!”
____“I doubt that.” Nick replied with a strange certainty in his tone.
____“Offering a cure doesn’t take away from what your men did.” Rich continued, “And you wouldn’t offer it to us freely unless you wanted something in return. You’re not about to let us walk off, are you?”
____“To be shuffled off into one of the state’s overcrowded prisons they call safety centers? God forbid.” Nick said, “No. You’re all coming with us. To join our company.”
____“To kill, is that right?”
____“Yes.” Nick again gestured for the zombie to be released, “Would you like to die now?”
____“No, no! I’ll take the cure, all right? Whatever it takes to survive…” Rich held out his arm at last, “I—I’m not gonna get killed here, not if I can avoid it.”
____“So you swear to carry out—”
____“Yes, yes! Give it already!”
____The syringe punctured him, Nick pushing in the drug and taking a step back. Rich breathed a sigh of relief and watched, all-too-suddenly giving out and collapsing.
____“Aaaauuggh!! Gah…!” He began convulsing and gagging, eyes bulging as if he were being squeezed to death. Bile erupted from his mouth as he rolled over, practically turning green as the bout persisted far too long. Everyone watched in silence.
____At last Rich collapsed again, limp as a corpse this time. A few seconds passed. Then he stirred and rose, groaning. But he was dead. Or undead, rather. The cure had done nothing to impede the virus mixed in. Everyone else present cured or infected already, he staggered off, following some distant trace of survivors elsewhere. Gauge watched in silent horror, knowing that with his wound he’d meet the same fate at some point soon.
____“How disappointing.” Nick said simply.
____Joseph watched in awe as the zombie-Rich walked off, suddenly seeming less certain about what he’d just put in his veins, “What happened?!”
____“He intended to betray us, most likely.” Nick explained, “Thought he could survive this encounter and then ditch or kill us first chance he got. Know this: our great leader can sense such things. He knows which of us is fit for Apostle. Which also means that he has blessed you. Welcome to our ranks. Be glad. Now, let’s see if he will bless us with more than one operative.”
____The last syringe was held out to Gauge. He stared blankly at it, knowing what had just happened to Rich. And yet knowing he was a dead man already. Joseph was immune now, never to fear the undead again. But could Gauge really accept the offer from these murderers? Or would he even pass their test, wanting only to live to see another day? He’d never be a genuine loyalist among their ranks, surely. It might kill him same as Rich. Should he just roll over and die? Just like that?
____“Join or die.” The troopers again said.
____Gauge reflected, heart pounding.
____Die. Burke, laying dead there before them all.
____Die. Mary, smiling warmly at him at that store, before it all happened.
____DIE.
____Oh, God, I don’t want to die!
____All men were cowards when confronted with hellfire. That was the only thing Gauge could tell himself then. He reached his bit arm out, “Cure me, please! Before it takes me!”
____Nick walked up to him, life-saving needle in hand. His eyes fell to the wound and then back up to Gauge, “Do you swear to all of Apostle’s oaths, to carry out its mission across all the globe? To aid its allies and kill its enemies?”
____“Yes, yes, anything! I just want to live!” Gauge was already rolling up his sleeve, “I don’t have much longer, not unless you save me.”
____“Very well. But only King’s will can deem you worth saving. Let’s see how genuine that Anything is.” In the needle went. In the maroon liquid went, jettisoned into his bloodstream in that instant. Gauge didn’t care if it was mixed with the virus. He had it in him already.
____Just like Joseph it kicked him in the legs first, Gauge dropping to the ground and grasping his head as it was besieged next. Pressure, and something else. Some black cloud of judgment overseeing him, seeping into every pore of his consciousness. Breathing in his cowardice. Knowing him.
____All men die, that presence wordlessly told him, But for you that day is not today. For more time on this Earth, you will act as my sword against the humans. To your very end, knowing or not, you will hinder all the living.
____It was gone in the blink of an eye, memory of those words vanishing by the second like a fading dream. He was still alive.
____“Good.” Nick said as Gauge writhed the rest of it out, “Be girded in Apostle.”
____Breath came back to him. Gauge sat up and then stood up. His hand was still feeling bloodloss from the scratch, but it again felt like a normal wound. He followed Joseph and—still unable to quite believe it—stood before the zombie and watched it ignore him.
____Cured. He was immune to the virus, and to them. He would not become one today.
____“‘And they shall take up serpents; and if they drink any deadly thing, it shall not hurt them.’” Nick said, smiling at their curious testing. He approached and put his hands on their shoulders, “You have both been baptized in King’s blood and survived. No longer will the undead harm you. No longer will the moon torment you. Welcome to Apostle.”
____“What Rich said… Do we really have to kill people?” Joseph asked.
____“What would you do to live?” Nick asked in return.
____“Anything…!” Gauge breathed out the answer first.
____“Good. Mardew, do we still have extra arms and gear back at base camp?”
____The huge man who’d found Gauge answered, “Yes sir.”
____Nick nodded, “Follow me. I will teach you everything you need to know to survive.”

____The group was marched north to their base camp: a few tents set up behind an empty gas station lot. There was another jeep and two more troopers there, and guns and laptops and black crates all with that curled dragon insignia stamped upon them. Here Nick showed them their new armor and weapons.
____“You’re one of us now. Take them. Custom military-grade lightweight ballistic armor and helmet.” Nick retrieved the guns next, “G36C carbine, 30-round capacity. FN Five-Seven semiautomatic pistol, 20-round capacity. Neither of you look bulky enough for the AUG-HBAR so we’ll leave it at that for now.”
____“I’m not a soldier.” Joseph protested, clearly intimidated by all of it.
____Nick laughed softly, “Nor am I! I’m a TA! Jack was homeless, Daniel there was a cashier, Leo was a cook. Only Mardew here was genuine PMC before the outbreak.”
____“Yeah, but I—I—”
____Nick put a hand on his shoulder, “Don’t worry and be patient; I will show you everything one step at a time. We won’t be too strict. This is your home now.”
____Joseph exhaled nervously, just trying to remain standing. Gauge didn’t feel much better off but said nothing. He was cured: if these people could armor him and keep him fed, then the terror of the outbreak might begin to subside in time. But he still felt for Mary. They had just killed her without a second thought. And here he was in bed with them that very same day. He’d taken their cure already, he didn’t know what to do.
____“We’re going to kill more people, won’t we?” He muttered quietly.
____Nick faced him, “Not right now, but yes. King has tasked us with such.”
____“I don’t know if I can kill people.” Joseph said.
____“You will.” Nick assured him, “Our next target is outside Topeka—we’ve received word of a stubborn encampment right by the highway there. They might’ve snatched your lot up if we hadn’t come upon you first. Bandits, slavers, and the like. Such savagery has no place in King’s world. We’ll be doing something about that.”
____Joseph gulped, “There’s really people doing that?”
____“Of course there are. There always have been. Such evil can operate more openly when the normal law is in disarray. We count on such openness, it’ll make them easier to find and kill.” Nick smiled warmly, “But don’t worry, I’ll train you both beforehand. They won’t put up much of a fight against a force like ours.”
____He spoke so nicely, this TA. But Gauge still felt hypocrisy lying beneath it. Evil operating openly? He might as well have been talking about his own band of killers. Clearing out blatantly foul robbers might feel good otherwise, but here it served mainly as a trick of conscious. Who would they kill when all the bandits were gone? Would this number here just stop? Gauge knew better. But he didn’t act better. The fear remained.

____Four weeks. The slavers were long gone, but the killing had of course continued.
____Nick gave the signal, “Now! Attack now!”
____The carbines had a terrifying range that their size betrayed: enabling Gauge and the others to open fire on their prey from well over two-hundred feet away. The survivors they were hitting—presence given away by a fire they’d set—didn’t even know an engagement had even occurred. They were expecting the undead and rightly so, and their encampment was constructed around that idea: made with bells and wires and ladders and high places more than any defense against a ranged attack. They were easy targets for the Apostles, black hidden in the darkening day, striking from a great distance.
____Two died from the opening barrage. Nick gave the second signal and the whole squad stormed in, save for two groups of two keeping watch at a distance in case of a vehicular escape. That didn’t happen, indicating no cars present, and as such Gauge and Joseph and all the rest made the long run up to the encampment.
____It seemed a larger group than most: sixteen to twenty possibly. Despite that only a handful of them were armed with guns, and only meager pistols at that. Any attempt to return fire at such a distance was met with a far more precise slug from the carbines. The rest scattered or hid. Joseph and most of the squad tramped off after the runners, picking them off, while Mardew and Gauge made their way to the encampment itself.
____The survivors here had chosen a dilapidated building to stay the night in. Gauge figured the idea was to ascend to the hard-to-reach second floor should any zombies attack, where ladders could be thrown down and the withered lack of walls offered plenty of places to shoot down at the hapless swarming undead. That wouldn’t happen here, but it did mean some cover for the survivors on the first floor of this place. Gauge deftly advanced, weapon up, moving room by room wanting only to clear it all quickly in the fervor of the shootout.
____Instantly there was a shout as he passed the first doorframe, nearly catching a hatchet to the face as a hidden man overswung at him from cover. Gauge caught the melee-armed survivor and fell into a brief struggle, wrestling for control of the small axe.
____“What’d you want?! What more can you take, bastards!?” The attacker was a dirty older man, withered with both age and the apocalypse’s burdens. Gauge was fitter, kept so by his organization now, and so almost cruelly he battered the man away with more ease than he deserved. He then raised his G36C and blew the attacker away with a quick bloody burst of shots. Seven killed now, he counted. Self-defense made it among the easier. He continued, hearing more gunfire all about him.
____Gauge deftly moved into the next doorway, now following the sound of a woman’s loud weeping. He had sadly grown used to such sounds in his time with the Apostles. It was always the same: just move, just clear, just make it quick for everyone.
____He ate a bullet to the breast as he peeked in, absorbed by his armor and only briefly knocking him aside. He reeled back and snapped to with his weapon up, returning fire into the room and killing his second attacker. It had been a young man, trying to comfort an older woman—presumably his mother—while keeping a pistol trained on the open doorway at the same time. Gauge had killed him almost as a simple knee-jerk reaction, big gaping bullet holes now running up the dead man’s dark skin. His face was now unrecognizable in the cratering wounds.
____The woman collapsed beside him, not struck but seeing plainly what had happened. She wept and wailed over her son as Gauge slowly approached—weapon still raised, waiting for any other attacks. But she only cried her eyes out in despair before just about collecting herself enough to look up at him with bent broken fury.
____“Well?” She demanded of him, “What are you waiting for?”
____Gauge would’ve winced at her words were he not so dead inside at this moment. He couldn’t flinch or feel anymore, especially not in the thick of fighting here. Thinking only with a brutal logic that now dictated his every move, seeking only to spare himself of having to dwell on any of it, he obeyed and shot her too. He feared that hesitation might turn the cure within him into poison. King was always watching, Nick had said.
____His first quick spray of gunfire was off center and insufficient, and so he shot her again though his weapon didn’t answer. Empty. She was still writhing and screaming in the agony, and Gauge hastily let his carbine drop in his hands and fall on its sling. He drew his Five-Seven pistol and cocked it, trying to be quick for her sake: just pounding enough lead into her to make it as fast and ending as he could. Eight, nine. The gunfire outside gradually stopped.
____Clear. Gauge exhaled, heart pounding with the guilt of what he knew was evil.
____Nick rallied them all back outside, where he told Mardew to spread the survivor’s fire throughout the building and torch it, and for Jack to circle and collect all the loot that could be gathered. He congratulated the rest of them for a job well done. Gauge heard the words smacking his good sense across the face.
____“I would be remiss for not mentioning the deeds of Joseph here today.” Nick went on, beckoning Gauge’s friend over, “Here, brother. I see you’ve been injured.”
____“I—It’s nothing.” Joseph said, glancing at the pathetically minor wound that had scraped his arm in the shootout. He was more visibly shaken with the adrenaline of the fight, trembling.
____“And yet still you kept running I saw, kept fighting, and added four offerings to King’s count.” Nick pointed out, “Apostle is not like other encumbered organizations. Here brothers see each other, recall cowardice and reward valor. And you have proven your valor among us.”
____Joseph stammered a reply, “Thank you.”
____“Why are you so formal at this moment? We don’t judge vulnerability here, Joseph.”
____He trembled slightly, glanced to Gauge, then bowed harder, “I—I just got scared, and it made me angry. That I might die and just be a—another footnote. And so I ran forward, and kept fighting, and I killed those bastards! I wasn’t going to be one of them!”
____Nick came too close to him, hand on his helmet, muttering sharply to him now, “You’re not a footnote! They put you down, they tried to make you small, but you killed them! Remember how much they all put you down! We won’t let that happen anymore!”
____Joseph doffed his mask to better blubber at the words, clearly still shaken with all that he had just committed—unable to process all the emotions that was making him feel, and yet perfectly open for his leader to now maleate, “I just want to be respected! Why couldn’t I ever just be—”
____Nick was pounding his comrade’s breastplate now, “Hey, hey! You’re respected! You’re our brother now! No one will sneer down on you again! All your life you’ve taken it, taken it—well now you can suddenly give it back! You gave them hell! Kill them all!”
____“Kill them all!” The seasoned Apostles repeated, closing in around Joseph now to further reinforce and encourage his openness and what he’d done. He was looking less shaken now, taken in by the comradery being shoved down his throat now. They were bridging a gap, Gauge could tell from here, baptizing him a second time. Joseph for the first time since they’d met looked elated, smiling and riding the high as they celebrated him. He was taken into Apostle again, this time as a real recruit.
____Gauge himself still felt a bit sick, still somewhat churned from the shootout. Part of him remained a simple civilian, and any connection regarding that which he shared with Joseph was slipping every second now. He didn’t join in with this hazing despite being closer to Joseph than any of the others there, at least for right now. Instead he walked off, finding only Mardew on his lonesome.
____“Aren’t you gonna join in with the rest of them?” Gauge asked him.
____“Meh.” Mardew replied bluntly. He was simply cramming more bullets into spent magazines, not bothering to get up or look at his guest, “I’m not quite into their mold, those Apostle troopers. I’m still mostly PMC at heart.”
____“I’m surprised they haven’t absorbed or expunged you in that case.”
____“I’m good at killing so they keep me around. It’s you they ought to be concerned about. If you don’t assimilate with them sooner or later they’ll kill you.”
____Gauge paused for a bit before continuing, “I just… I just still…”
____Now Mardew looked back, “Still fretting about that b*tch I shot, Gauge?”
____Mary. “Why’d you kill her? You didn’t even give her a chance like the rest of us.”
____The soldier just looked past Gauge at the troops surrounding Joseph, “You familiar with mass-shooters in this country? You know of ‘em?”
____“What?” He was somewhat taken aback, “What about them?”
____“You know how many of them are female?”
____“Uh…” Gauge tried to think of examples.
____Mardew continued cramming bullets into his gun, “The answer is Not Many. And there weren’t any in any of the groups I was part of before the zombies. And there weren’t any in any of the armies I’ve fought for or against. They’re only good for stabbing daggers into sleeping soldiers. So as a rule of thumb I shoot the b*tches whenever we sweep for survivors. B*tches don’t got the stones, and their presence makes men into poor soldiers. Only time I don’t kill ‘em is when I’m wound tight and need to get my rocks off. And even then I kill ‘em right afterwards, got it?”
____Gauge scowled, thinking of Mary under this man and not feeling any better, “But I… I’d feel so much better if she were here with us now.”
____“No, you’d be dead. She would’ve said No to that cure, and if she were there you would’ve dropped dead from it on the spot. You’da been thinking of her and how to escape with her and that cure would’ve killed you for it guaranteed. Instead your loyalty’s not split. And you’re not unique in that way. I saved your life when I killed her.” Mardew continued ranting, “So I kill b*tches. That’s rule number one, Gauge. I also kill old men ‘cause they don’t learn new tricks. They’re still rooted to their stocks and their families and all sorts of old devotions to God or America or some sh*t or another. That’s rule number two. And lastly I always kill the n*ggers ‘cause they sure as sh*t won’t die for Apostle even if they might sign up for it without a second thought. So that’s three.”
____“Why you…!” Gauge flared.
____Mardew got up and towered above him, “What’s the matter Gauge? I’m only speaking the truth. I know who I am and I’ll say what I want. You wanna get mad at me for saying bad words? You’re the one what killed those n*ggers back there. Yeah, I saw. Shot him and his n*gger mama dead and sent ‘em both right up to heaven. You killed them.”
____Words went from his mind to his mouth but died in his throat on the way, Gauge standing there helplessly. Just gritting his teeth and staring at the ground.
____“Are you too good for it all of a sudden?” The giant growled, “Oh, they’d probably hate you more if you changed your mind after you decided to take their lives. If you like I can just snap your neck right now and you can go apologize. Or you could try some stunt and just wait until King inevitably finds out and makes you drop dead.”
____“...No… No, I don’t want to die.”
____“See, good. You’re not gonna die from us, because you lived. Because I killed your b*tch Mary. You lived to kill those people for us. And you’re gonna keep killing, even if you’re not numb to shooting numbers one-through-three yet. But sooner or later you will be.” Mardew pounded Gauge’s shoulder, “And in so doing create more Apostles just like yourself. Now do you understand what Nick’s doing?”
____“...!” Gauge still couldn’t lift his gaze off his feet.
____“A man who don’t work shouldn’t eat: so if you wanna keep on living you’re gonna have to keep on killing. Accept that Apostle’s got you by the balls and get over your moral hangups fast, like rippin’ off a band-aid.” Mardew nodded in Joseph’s direction, “Apostle fancies guys like that over there, ones that they can cultivate the religious fervor in. But they’ll still take guys like you an’ me just fine.”
____He walked off, leaving Gauge alone there trying and failing to answer himself. He knew Mardew was correct, that he was stuck in the mire of it now. Nine people his treachery had afflicted. How could he ever back out now when he was already so bloodily committed? He had his chance when it was zero people, even perhaps when it’d only been one person. But now… now he was in it. The only thing left for him was to accept it.

____On the sixth week Nick directed the party to suddenly swing north. The radiomen had directed him such, toward Omaha where their next group of targets would be.
____“We’re splitting our forces.” He told the group, “Half our number is to continue into the city, where I’m told two other squads will be as well. Got a tip: there’s an Army FOB there we need to hit. The rest will go with Mardew further northeast to join up with Alex Si—” He paused, the length of a hiccup, “…with Alexis, another Apostle to oversee the depot there.”
____Joseph seemed to pale and break at the idea of striking an FOB, “We’re fighting genuine army men?! We can’t do that! I’m not ready for that kind of combat!”
____“Don’t give in to fear, brother.” Nick put an encouraging hand on his shoulder, looking to the rest of them as he continued, “The illusion of the military’s strength is broken. It’s not the same army it was before the moon, remember that. Right now they are weak—we are strong—they are few—we are many. You’ll see the fear in their eyes when we come down upon them unlooked for.”
____Remembering their weapons and uniforms, and the easy victories they’d won time and again against other survivors, most of the men nodded. They had everything they needed to feel imposing. Nick assured them of their newfound strength, and that of their side which had torn the world asunder and winged the moon above, and most importantly that he’d been assured that there’d be no tanks there in Omaha. They were going to enter battle against a genuine military, and if they won it’d only further reinforce their devotion to this cause here.
____There was only one issue, as Nick tasked those who would follow Mardew to the factory and named Joseph among them. Gauge figured that despite his meeker exterior that Joseph would actually be more willing to fight in this battle, while Gauge—seeming taller and grimmer at a first glance—much preferred slinking off to hide elsewhere overseeing the undead. Besides that reversal, it also meant that he was going to lose his last link to his old group. If he hadn’t already.
____“Stay alive and we might see each other again, brother.” Joseph told him as Gauge loaded up and prepared to enter Omaha, where Nick and Jack and the rest of the squad would ultimately be killed leaving him alone once again.
____“This time there’s no way we’re all making it out of this.” Gauge replied solemnly, “Even if what Nick says is true and the army is a shadow of its former self right now, they’ll still be shooting back en masse.”
____“If what Nick says is true, you’ll have the element of surprise, and numbers, and maybe even zombies helping out. I wish I could be there, but we’ve got to obey our orders. Helping Apostle is the point of all this.”
____Gauge frowned. He could feel Joseph slipping; this was his last chance to get back through to him before they were apart for good, “I thought surviving was the point of all this. Now I’m about to go from murder to domestic treason. Do you ever think we’re in too deep, even if we are on the winning side?”
____“I’d rather be on the winning side than dead.” Joseph said, “Remember, it was death or Apostle. And I for one like this feeling of winning. I’ve been losing all my life, thanks to these people. I’m not gonna take it anymore. Now even the army is scared of me, of us.”
____Gauge internally cringed, thinking of what Mardew had said, “You sound like a school shooter, talking like that.”
____“I don’t care. Things are different now. People have always been mean to me. It’s only fair that I get to bite back now that they’re down. No one can judge me for getting a whole lifetime’s worth of payback all at once, as if that’s any worse than being an asshole twenty-four seven.” Joseph rationalized, “All that shooter stuff on the news was only ever telling half a story. You call it murder, I call it karma. And it feeling good doesn’t make me a bad person.”
____“But these are just normal people we’ve been lashing out at. There’s no genuine payback to it. They’re unrelated.”
____“Normal people.” Joseph scoffed loudly at the words, “I heard what Rich said to you about me. He would’ve let me die if push came to shove; most of those people would. I’m glad he’s dead. From now on, anyone who I know would’ve been mean to me is gonna die. I can tell who would look down on me if things were back to normal. This whole apocalypse has been a blessing in disguise: now I’ll never have to see those smug, mocking faces ever again. They’ll be too busy begging for their lives! But they’re not gonna be able to trick me into letting it all go for them just because they act nice now.”
____Gauge gave a soft nod to placate his partner, but internally he knew that it was the armor and the gun he was talking to. This army was a powerful, frightening organism that Joseph could hide in: something that would mask his face and flaws alike and strike terror into the hapless survivors it attacked. It was made for him to love and to fall into, and in so doing pad its ranks. He’d only grow more loyal to it as time went on, Gauge could tell. The Joseph he knew—meek and awkward but worth knowing—was gone. Apostle had drawn out and expertly fed the worst parts of his Id until it ruled him entirely.
____Maybe you’re right about most normal people, Joseph. But what about Burke? He didn’t let you die, he never once doubted you, he carried us all instead of only saving himself, and he was killed just the same as the rest. Is this how Apostle rewards the genuinely good souls in the world? He wondered.
____Gauge didn’t bother asking it out loud. His friend was gone and would only find some way to brush it off. There’d be some justification for any suggestion of a flaw in his view. Apostle had consumed him. They wouldn’t be separating here after all: it was already done some time back. As for Gauge, the army had devoured him in the other way: its crushing apathy and his own cowardice. Like developing a destructive addiction he had joined out of an innocent desire to live. Then it demanded that he kill to continue living, and again and again. Nine lives were now piled up on top of his, just as Apostle desired. With each one it got just a little bit easier: each had less value as the percentage it represented decreased. He was caring a little bit less about it each day.
____He would become a detached killer like Mardew eventually, the same way Joseph would eventually become a devout worshiper of Apostle like Nick was. And it would spread and spread, regardless of Gauge’s lack of enthusiasm for it. Already he had helped recruit two more into the squad in the short time he had been fighting for the new cause.
____I’m like one of the pagans force-converted into Christianity in the early days of Europe. He recognized, It didn’t matter if they actually bought into the faith or not: their children and all their descendants would be genuine believers. Entire religions were wiped out in this way, regardless of the inner turmoil or meager protests of a few individuals. What cruel efficiency.
____Even as someone who joined only to live: nine dead, two converted. More to come the longer he was alive. And still he couldn’t abandon the cowardly desire to continue living. He was an expendable cog in an enormous machine. The only thing he could boast over Joseph was that he saw the machine, but it was a moot point recognizing it or not.
____It was too big. He was too afraid. Better to continue keeping his head down, even into battle such as this. And so more would die until he did. Forced converts indeed.