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Lily V2 Prologue

A taller man dressed in a pair of loose fitting cargo pants bolstering an urban night camouflage pattern, and a black hoodie that also hangs off of him. Snaking out from under the hoodie a pair of ear buds, the quiet hum of music clings to him, like a child to his favorite blanket. In his left hand is a metallic green aluminum flashlight, which looks to take about four D size batteries. In his other hand is a blacked out three fifty seven revolver, it looks as if it was painted black with a rattle can rather hastily. He stops and listens; he replaces the revolver, in a custom made holster that also holds an old style meat cleaver. They cross on his lower back, making it easy to grab the revolver with his right hand and the cleaver with his left hand.

He runs his now free hand though his unruly mop of brown hair, readjusts his goggles, a pair of chrome goggles with yellow lenses, that he wears to sort of keep his hair under control. Letting out a sigh he says to himself, “Royce you will get me killed one of these days I swear”. After a few seconds her hears the load thumping footsteps of someone jogging up from behind him, it’s not exactly what you would call a quick pace either. He turns toward the footsteps and says, “oh come on Royce, can’t you just simply keep up. I slow my pace down to a brisk walk and each week you get slower”.

Royce now coming into view, with his sweat stained office casual attire, a pin stripe blue polo shirt and a pair of khaki pants, and his perfectly sculpted dirty blonde hair. Only his rough five o’clock shadow gives any hints as to just how tough life has gotten for Royce. He too is armed, but simply with a piece of steel pipe about three feet long and about a two-inch diameter, capped on the end with a T joint. Royce walks closer to him, now bracing himself against the alley wall, and says with a soft out of breath chuckle, “ well Chris you know I am not the strongest runner. I really think you take me on these little supply runs just to punish me. I don’t know why you would want to punish me, but I am sure someday you will tell me what I have done”.

“Now Royce why in the world would I want to punish you? You’re my oldest friend, who I risked my life to save you from a bank full of zombies. You who thinks you are above the daily chores that need to be done to keep the Haven running and safe. You who have a total zombie kill count of four. You who would rather watch others die then actually lift a finger to help them,” Chris says snidely. He continues, “I mean it couldn’t be that I am tired of defending you to OUR friends. They all know how much of a slime ball you are. It’s not like Kathy hasn’t explained what happened between the two of you three years ago to all of our friends. Faced with all of the facts you still hold to the fact that you are innocent and she is a liar”.

Royce smiles wide, he has gotten the reaction that he wanted, “Oh look Chris your personal feelings are showing. I hope I wont have to send you back to the Haven. I mean it was you that said not one of us was allowed out here if we couldn’t keep our personal feelings in check”. Royce snickers then continues, “Yet I guess being lied to by the woman you have been with four what five years now, would tear anyone apart. Even more so when she lied and told you that your child isn’t yours and it was the person she really longs to be with”.

“You are too much Royce, some days I don’t know whether to regret saving you or help you get though this zombie apocalypse just to that I can take my time in giving you the slow death you deserve. Are you ready to move yet? We can’t stay here all night fighting over who the bigger asshole is.”

“Yeah I am as ready as I am going to get, although I still think you should take Glenn with you. The at least you would have god on your side as you stalked the streets.”

“Let’s get a move on before I find some zombies to feed you to.”

The pair still mentally aggravated at one another continues toward their goal, a super market near the haven. It was about a six-mile hike there and back. And the trip back always felt like it took longer cause of the packs full on canned good on their backs. Which was what the troop of survivors lived off of until a time when they could till up the land around the haven and set up a fence to keep the zombies out.

Up ahead of the pair they can hear the rustling around of someone and the screams of a very angry cat. With a chuckle Chris stops and says to Royce in a low voice, “well I think the zombie bit of something more then he could chew, hell more then he could catch to chew”

Still not fairing well after the verbal attack Royce just nods and draws the pipe up to be ready to swing.

“You wait here Royce I know how you hate brain panning these things.” Chris says drawing the cleaver from its sheath. He creeps up to his prey; it still shows no sign that it even knows that Chris or Royce is near.

Quietly Chris creeps up to the distracted zombie till he can see it. Since the city was taken over by the zombies, light has been an ill afforded luxury. Now no more then eight feet from the rotting cadaver, he can smell the rotting flesh and hear with clarity the moaning of the hungry undead. Watching the zombie Chris sees the cat dart out from under one dumpster and to the next, the zombie rushes head long at the dumpster. Forcently for the cat the zombie isn’t fast enough to catch it, and strikes head first into the dumpster. Chris lets out a low snicker thinking this cat may very well kill the zombie for him. Still Chris sees an opening with the zombie knocking it self on it’s ass, he charges forward bringing the cleaver down across the back of its head. It slices though the zombie’s melon with little effort, slicing from the middle of the back of the skull though to the mouth and the cleaver comes out of its mouth.

In a squirt of blood and gore it is done, the top half of the zombies head rolls under the dumpster and startles the cat underneath and makes a bolt for it down the ally toward Royce. Chris wipes the blade clean on the shirt of the corpse and replaces it in its sheath. “Okay Royce it’s done, so lets get a move on before we run into a pack.” Chris says.

Royce joins up with him, “Seems you got this under control as usual.” He smugly walks past him and continues on to the goal. Turns around to see if Chris is following him for a change, “ though you said we had to keep moving cause there pack hunters and this one strayed away blah blah blah”. But when Royce looked at Chris was drawing down his revolver on him and before Royce could even scream a bullet zipped past his head. To his surprise the back of his head was now covered in something wet, and kind of cold, followed by the slump of a body behind him.

“Yes Royce you are welcome, but I am really getting tired of having to keep my eyes open for you as well as myself. How in the world is this group ever gonna get along without me if you can’t seem to see a zombie in an alley not two feet from where you stopped and turned around.”

Royce was still in shock his ears ringing could barely even hear Chris chastise him about his rash action. When a hand grabs his shoulder, he twists away from it before he can even see what he is swinging at the pipe slams into the bottom of the attackers jaw, jarring it into it’s skull. With the sound of snapping bones he feels the pipe crush into the attackers skull then feels the dead weight of the assailant slump to the ground tearing the pipe from his hands as Chris surges past him landing a blow into another zombie’s head. The remaining two zombies moan loudly, Chris lets out a string of curses, “Brace yourself for a fight Royce there are more on the way we may have to fight our way to the store.”

Royce shakes of the grim feeling of the kill, pulls the pipe up to be ready to use it again, but hoping that if he stays back enough he can get away with letting Chris doing all the killing. Slowly moving his way forward acting like he is watching their rear but really just watching his own hide. Listening to the carnage behind him as Chris slices though arms to get in close for the killing blow. When to his dread another pack of shambling zombies started making their way toward Royce and Chris from behind them.

Royce calls out to Chris, “ We got a problem Chris! There is more coming from behind us.” Royce raises his pipe ready for a fight.

Chris finishes the zombie he is fighting with a swift blow to the side of a zombie’s head with the broad side of his cleaver. He then reaches into his pants pocket and pulls out a black mp3 player and hits play lists then the play list “H.Molly”. “Lets do this then!” Chris exclaims.

Now with the renewed vigor of some high-energy music blasting in his ears, he goes at the last of the first pack Cleaver in one hand and revolver in the other. He brings the cleaver down on the zombie severing its right arm at mid forearm like butter. And brings the revolver level with the zombies head and fires. A shower of blood and gore explodes out of the back of its head as the fragment round explodes out of the back of the zombie’s head.

Royce mean while is waiting with his pipe resting on his shoulder for the rotting cadavers to get closer, hoping Chris will be done with the first pack before the second reaches him. Thinking to himself Chris is the zombie hunter I’m a banker, what am I doing out here.

Breathing heavy Chris steeled himself for round two, he turns to see twelve more hunger driven corpses closing in on the pair. Frustrated that Royce has done little then defend himself. Chris throws himself, head long into the pack using his anger to fuel the fight. Slashing down with the cleaver severing anything in its way, he lops arms and the occasional leg, as he brings the revolver to bare striking skulls with the barrel when he can. Other times he would fire a round though the head of his assailants making short work of them.

Royce still unwilling to join the fray watches as Chris dispatches the first four with no shots fired. Thinking to himself this is why Chris leads them, his ability to protect no mater the cost to himself or the though of who he is protecting. Royce almost envied him, and then watched as Chris felt the pain of his first mistake. One of the zombies slashed at him with jagged bony fingers, tearing though his hoodie and slicing into his fore arm, Chris drops the pistol his arm unable to hold on as the his flesh is torn open.

Gritting his teeth and letting out a low animalistic growl, he backs away from the remaining eight zombies. Drops the cleaver at Royce’s feet and snatches the pipe from him, Chris charges into the fray once more, hefting the length of pipe as if it where his Bokken. Chris was fuming mad because of his mistake and because Royce couldn’t be bothered to raise a finger to help.

The first swing hit square on the side of the zombie’s head lodging the “t” joint deep into the brain. Following though to the ground, Chris plants his foot on the zombie’s throat and dislodges the pipe with a solid jerk. Then in a low golf swing he brings the pipe broad side up into the bottom of another zombie’s jaw crushing it up into its skull lodging fragments of broken jawbone though its brain. Chris thinks to himself, “ Six more, you can do this, you spent your life preparing for this fight no time to back down now!” With a savage roar he swings the club around and his next target in the ribs knocking it off balance and sending it sailing into one of the walls of the alley. Changing his grip to wield it like a sledge he brings the pipe down on the top of the incoming zombie dropping it flat to the ground in front of him. Before the fallen zombie had been able to get back to it’s feet Chris slammed the pipe against its head smashing the zombie’s head like an egg against the wall.

Turning to face the closing four remaining corpses, he can feel his energy dropping and pretty sure he has lost enough blood he will faint soon if he can’t tie the wound off. He makes a step back, and feel the revolver at his feet shifting the pipe to his wounded arm he bends down and picks up the revolver. Quickly holstering it he uses the pipe to push the two center zombies back and split up the crowd as he charges though the pack. Knowing he is surrounded now he hopes to use this distance to give himself time to kill the two he ran though then kill the ones now behind him.

Pushing the pair of zombies back Chris hit one in the nose with the bottom of the pipe pushing back a couple steps more. As he brings the top around to bare on the next one he adjusts his grip and drives the pipe though its skull and in one swift motion he changes the direction of the momentum of the pipe and brings it down on the first zombie, crushing its head like a month old pumpkin.

Turning around to the two he left behind him he drops the pipe and pulls the revolver gripping it with both hands takes aim and puts a pair of bullets into both zombies. Just about out of energy he drops the gun and pulls some gauss out of the pocket on his left leg. Bandages the wound Quickly and covers it with duct tape.

“Royce next time can you give me a hand instead of watching?” Chris says still not even looking up from his wound. “Royce. You now talking to me now?” he questions as he looks up to where Royce had been standing.

Standing in his place is a figure dressed in a black hoodie. Camo cargo pants, and the smell of rot. In one hand rests a pistol clip fed semi auto panted black. In the other a katana a rather old looking one at that.

“Your not Royce, who are you and where is Royce?” Chris says calmly

The figure drops his hood, revealing a face with the starting signs of rot his eyes glossed and white. Carved into his forehead is “eniS”, Chris can’t help but see the similarities between himself and this thing.

Alone tired and without a weapon Chris knows he stands little chance against this new threat. Chris has little idea what this new threat if it is even a threat is. “So the quiet type huh? Well I’m tired and wounded so if your trying to make a name for yourself just hurry up and kill me.”

Without a word it charges Chris and slides the blade straight though Chris.

Gasping for breath and drenched in sweat, Chris realizes it was all just a bad dream. His dark apartment only illuminated by slivers of scarlet light streaking in thought the closed blinds hanging over the windows. The room is messy but not without organization all his dirty laundry in one corner in a pile of all her laundry thrown into a basket. Books on every shelf, on tops of dresser and both nightstands, lying still open on top of a pile of books is a loose-leaf spiral notebook. A green pen lays open on the page, notes for a book that Chris has been working on for the last several months scrawled on the page.

Lying in the bed next to him is Kathy the love of his life though strife and cheating and lies he still beds with her. Nothing comes easy for Chris least that has always been his train of thought. He figures only loosely showing in the curves of her covers. She lays peacefully unaware of the demons that Chris fights in his dreams almost every night. Chris kisses her on the cheek and whispers, “I love you Babe, sleep well”.

Rolling out of bed in his plaid night pants, he finds a tee shirt and before walking out of the rooms he watches her one last time before continuing on his morning ritual. First he checks on Monica, their little girl. She came into their lives three years ago, when Royce seduced Kathy and knocked her up, now in usual Royce style he shrugged off his responsibility and told her it was Chris’ and kicked her to the curb after three months of telling her how much she should ditch the loser and that he would always be there for her and that he could show her what a real man did for his woman. Chris knows he isn’t the best person but he loves her with all that he is, so at the birth he agreed to be Monica’s legal birth father.

Chris quietly opens Monica’s door, peering in he finds her laying sound asleep in one of many awkward positions as he does every morning. Legs kicked out almost a complete ninety-degree’s from her body, and clinging tightly to Captain Nina, a teddy bear modeled after the captain of the airship pirates in the book he is working on. The bear was dressed in traditional steam punk clothing, goggles and all, it was a mater of pride that his little girl loves her daddy’s work and she couldn’t even ready it.

He closes the door full of pride in his little girl, but still gnawing at his brain is the dread and fear of his dream. He silently shuts the door and makes his way for the balcony where his long time friend a pack of cigarettes waits for him he hid them there when Kathy and his doctors demanded he quit. He hasn’t actually lit one in the three years since Monica was born, cause sitting in the plastic that surrounds the bottom of the pack I a folded picture from the first sonogram, she is his anti smoking inspiration.

He walks out onto the balcony and sits down in one of the two adult sized plastic chairs the third is a child-sized chair from a picnic set. He reaches under the seat to the hole that holds his friends takes the pack out and seeing the folded paper like it is the first time as he has done for the countless day since he quit, he takes it out and just stares at the image. His eyes fill with tears he folds the paper up and says, “My little Nica”