Part I

“Outbreak”

A ray of dusty sunlight filters through a crack in the wood that makes the wall of Socks’ small shack. Most of the wood is already molded and decaying and threatens to collapse. The roof is metal and leaking. There’s no plumbing and the rats have a home inside. Socks loves his home.

Socks is already up and is currently kicking over garbage, looking for his school supplies. His search sends dust in the air and rats running. Finally, he finds what he’s looking for; his filthy, worn-out book bag. Inside, there aren’t any books. Only 2 water bottles, a small first-aid kit, a surgical mask, and matches. Socks then reaches under the mattress on the floor and pulls out a large knife with a blade that curves up slightly at a distinct angle. He puts it in its curved sheath attached to his book bag’s right-hand strap. After putting on his torn sneakers, he bends over to pick up his hamster, Chowder, who is running with the rats. He tucks Chowder into a pocket on his book bag’s left-hand strap and walks out.

The air outside is dirty and warm. The sky is still orange from dawn and a thick cloud of smog hangs over the city of New Chicago.

New Chicago is one of many safe-havens, called “paradises” that are scattered throughout what was once the United States. The paradises offer shelter to the survivors of what is referred to as “Z-Day”.

The outbreak of the infection, Z-Day, was first sighted in Brazil so it is speculated that that is where it started. However, there were also outbreaks in Japan and Africa around the same time. Of course, many theories about religion and government conspiracies arose, but no one really knows for sure what caused the outbreak. All the stories and rumors in the world couldn’t save humanity, anyway.

Once infected, the host has 2 to 10 minutes (depending on the severity of the infected area) left to live. Afterwards, the hosts’ cerebral functions break down until only the most basic instincts remain. The infection then has full control over the hosts’ motor functions. It is still unknown as to how the virus can power the corpse for a prolonged time without a constant source of energy. Inevitably, the skin decomposes, hair falls out, and the body can no longer reproduce cells. What is left is a rotting, barbaric, and very hungry individual.

The infection spread quickly. Some nations attempted to defend their citizens (in most countries by implementing a nation-wide quarantine). Some leaders fled, leaving their citizens to die. And from the ashes rose the paradises.

Socks’ shack was located by the southern wall of New Chicago. The wall stood around 20 feet tall and was topped with barbed wire; no zombies could get through there. Because of the sense of security the thick, concrete wall provided, a small shack village sprung in what used to be a public park.

Socks walked through his peaceful neighborhood. Most of the shacks were in just as bad a condition as Socks’. But no one seemed to mind.

After a few minutes of walking through what used to be fields of grass and trees, Socks arrived at his best friend, Moon’s, house. Socks knocked and an old, fragile woman (Moon’s mother) opened the door. After he asked about Moon, she disappeared inside and Socks followed.

Like most of the homes in the village, Moon’s house had only one room that served as a bedroom and kitchen. Windows were a luxury and without them the only way to light a home was with candles. Much like the candles that sat on the table in Moon’s house, which bathed the interior with a warm, orange glow.

A teenager, pudgy and shorter than Socks, still lay in bed. Socks kicked the mattress. “Get up!”

Moon stirred and sat up right. He yawned and stretched in the dimly lit room. “Hey, Socks,” he said rubbing his eyes with his round fists. “Hey, Chowder.” He went to a cupboard, pulled out a cracker, and gave it to Chowder who devoured it in small bites.

“Let’s go,” said Socks.

“Hold on,” replied a groggy Moon, “Just let me get my things.”

Moon’s house was much neater than Socks’ house. He grabbed his book bag from next to his bed and, after saying bye to Moon’s mother, they left for school.

They were both silent, except for a squeaky Chowder, until they were out of earshot from Moon’s house.

“So, are we going today?” asked Socks.

Moon looked over his shoulder, making sure no one was around to hear them. “I told you, man; not anytime soon.”

Socks sighed. He knew that Moon, being only 15, was still under his mother’s tight grip. At 16, the children of New Chicago were legally adults and were expected to live on their own, like Socks.

“C’mon,” said Socks, “when’s the last time you went to The Fields?”

The Fields is a notorious graveyard beyond the southern wall. At 12, children were taken there by either parents or older siblings to learn how to outwit, outrun, and kill a zombie. Most children, like Socks, first went when they were 6. The Fields were dangerous and many people went only to become one of the zombies of the graveyard, which is why Moon was forbidden to go.

“It’s been too long,” said Moon. “Mom needs me to help around the house. She’s getting old and has trouble remembering things.” Moon’s eyes fell to the ground at the last sentence.

“Well maybe she’ll forget that she forbid you to go,” joked Socks. Moon gave Socks a look that said that he appreciated Socks’ effort to shed some humor on his situation.

Socks gave Moon a playful punch on the arm. “C’mon,” he said, “what’s the worst that can happen?”

“Besides getting ripped apart by zombies? Oh, absolutely nothing,” said Moon sarcastically.

“Don’t worry about Zeddie,” said Socks. Zeddie was the name used for zombies when children are present but over time is became a common nickname for them. “You know that Suzie,” – he gestured to his knife – “Chowder, and I got your back.” Chowder let out a playful squeak at hearing his name.

“I don’t know,” sighed Moon. “You get pretty reckless.”

“Trust me, Moon. I swear I won’t let them get you.”

Moon was quiet a moment, he was trying to figure out how much he really trusted Socks with his life. Being best friends since birth, he decided that he could.

“Fine,” he let out reluctantly. “We’ll go pick up my gun after school.”

“Great!” said Socks, smacking Moon on the back. “You won’t regret it. It’ll be fun.”

They continued to school as a crow cawed in the distance.



Maxwell woke up later that afternoon. The bar where he worked wouldn’t open up for another hour so he had some time to head to the market. While Socks lived on his own he still relied on his older brother to bring his food since he was on of the few teens who still decided to go to school. After collection his things, Maxwell went outside to unlock his bike.

Maxwell lived in a village with slightly more privileged families than where Socks lived. Here, some families had the blessing of having small gardens. It wasn’t much but, considering the times, even a small flower held great beauty.

As Maxwell rolled his bike across the lawn, his roommate, Alex, called out to him from the doorway. “Bring some squirrels!”

Maxwell nodded and pedaled away. The streets were empty since no one used cars anymore unless they were filthy rich. At this time, students were already heading home from school. Maxwell worried that he would be late to Socks’ house and therefore late to work as well. He wasted no time in buying food and supplies.

Socks lived only a mile from the market. Maxwell arrived just as the sun was setting. The streets were already getting dark since New Chicago’s energy grid only provided power to the rich districts. To compensate for the lack of light, each family in the poor districts would tie paper lanterns to their roofs. When the sun set, they would ignite flammable disks in the lanterns and as a result it would rise into the air. The light provided was just enough to illuminate the sidewalks but the main purpose was to guide people home. If it weren’t for the wall on the southern border, the people wouldn’t have used the lanterns since it would attract infected. The lanterns provided a more psychological sense of comfort to the people. The parents would tell their children that the lanterns were really angels who protected them at night.

Maxwell knew that something was wrong when he saw that Socks’ lanterns weren’t lit. He jumped off of his bike and rushed to the door carrying a bag of supplies. He knocked once and waited. Twice. Nothing. Maxwell pulled out an old, rusty key and opened the door with it. It opened with a creak and the room was dimly lit from the light outside.

Maxwell stepped in and immediately knew that Socks was gone. He swore under his breath. He then approached the bed, saying, “Please be there,” as he lifted the mattress. The blade that always got Socks into, and out of, trouble was gone. The rats that Socks shared a home with started squeaking in terror and a dull, but loud, thud made Maxwell jump. He left the bag on the mattress and went outside. A crow had crashed into the shack and now lay dying at Maxwell’s feet.

________________________________________________________

Socks and Moon climbed a tree that stood tall over a fence that separated New Chicago from the empty “no man’s land”. After wading across the small pond in front of it, they crawled out onto the branches, and climbed down its thick vines onto the other side of the fence.

Leaving the paradise without the right papers was illegal and, without an escort, suicide, but everyone used this tree to get out to The Fields, so no one was ever reported. At the base of the tree, people had carved the names of those who climbed the tree only to never come back into the trunk. There were many names but the two boys ignored them. They both agreed that anyone who couldn’t survive The Fields wasn’t worth mourning or even remembering. The paradise had no room for people who couldn’t survive.

They picked up Moon’s pistol and gas mask after school from a box under a bridge. Moon always carried extra clips for it in his bag along with a first-aid kit and some crackers for Chowder. The gas mask hung lazily from Moon’s belt.

Socks always felt homesick outside of the wall. He’d grown attached to New Chicago and he felt a feeling of hopelessness as they walked away from the wall in the moonlight. He quickly banished those emotions as he remembered that he had to protect Moon and bring all 3 of them back home safely. Of course, they didn’t have to go to The Fields, but they both felt that they needed the experience to survive. Plus, they enjoyed the thrill.

They now walked down an empty road that was surrounded by abandoned house and apartments on both sides. The houses were boarded up so no zombies could be hiding inside. Although, it never hurt to be careful; Socks pulled out his blade, just in case.

“Are you nervous?” teased Socks.

“No,” said Moon. “You act as if I don’t know how to shoot.”

Socks knew very well that Moon could bring a down a charging zombie with a well placed bullet right in between a zombie’s eyes. He loved to test Moon’s abilities.

“That doesn’t mean anything. I’m sure Chowder here has more guts than you.” Again, Chowder squeaked happily.

Moon laughed. “He’s always the first one screaming.”

They continued their quiet walk through the abandoned neighborhoods. A few of the boards on the houses had messages on them.

Keep Away

Free Doctor Service Here

Dead in basement

Some of these messages were written in paint. Others were written in blood.

Empty suitcases and backpacks littered the streets. They were all empty of course, since looters and relief workers have already combed through the area. As they went deeper into the neighborhood, they started to see more bodies in the streets.

The stench was awful. But the two boys were born into this setting. The dead bodies on the street were just a part of the rubble of what once used to be Chicago.

They stopped on the steps of an old apartments building to take a break from walking.

But then Chowder began to squeak nervously from the small pocket on Socks’ book bag strap.

The boys froze.

During the first stages of the outbreak, when no one could cross any border without a thorough medical exam, the guards of each border used trained detector dogs to detect anyone carrying the virus. Those discovered to be infected were turned around and sent another way. As time went by and the outbreak got worse, these people were executed on the spot.

It wasn’t just dogs that could detect infected, though. Almost all animals could sniff out the virus, but just at smaller ranges than dogs.

And Chowder definitely smelled something.

Socks and Moon hid behind the staircase. Socks tightened his grip on the blades handle. Moon quietly took out the pistol from his bag. They both held their breath, listening.

There was the sound of feet dragging across the street. Chowder began to tremble. Socks stole a glance above the side of the staircase.

There, stumbling down the middle of the street, was a man in torn clothes. His skin looked blue under the moonlight. His eyes were two lifeless, black orbs. He let out a soft groan and Chowder squeaked in terror. Moon gave the hamster a cracker to quiet it.

The creature, however, heard him, and started shuffling towards their hiding spot. Socks heard the footsteps draw nearer.

“Let’s bug out,” whispered Socks.

Moon nodded. He pointed to a gangway on the side of the apartment and Socks nodded in agreement. They abandoned their position and sprinted towards the passage. In that brief moment, they revealed themselves to the zombie. It let out an agitated groan and stumbled faster towards Socks and Moon.

Socks cursed under his breath. The zombie’s groan was a call to all nearby creatures that food was found. After the two boys jumped over the fence leading to the alley, they ran even faster.

It wasn’t safe to hunt in the neighborhoods that surrounded New Chicago. The sounds of fighting would attract a horde and would eventually result in an invasion of the paradise. The boys weren’t running out of fear. They were just more eager to get to The Fields, away from civilization, to start their killing.

They arrived at The Fields. The graveyard was perfect for practicing zombie-hunting. Something about all the bodies in the ground made the zombies relaxed and calm. Moon and Socks hopped over the low, stone fence into The Fields.

“You can have the first one,” said Socks.

Moon nodded and clicked the safety off. Together, they walked past tombstones and dying trees. All was still in the dark graveyard except for the rats and the occasional owl. The smell of rotting flesh tainted the air.

After a few minutes of walking in silence, Chowder began to squeak nervously.

“Here we go,” said Moon. He gave Chowder another cracker to quiet him.

The two boys hid behind a cracked tombstone and waited. Socks held his blade tighter. He held its hilt backwards so that the curved blade point behind him and the sharp side of it was exposed. This gave him the ability to decapitate a zombie with one deft swipe of his arm.

There was a soft groan beyond the tombstone. Socks risked a glance. “Zeddie,” he said.

The zombie walked slowly, staring at the ground. It dragged its feet in its heavy stalk. Its arms were stiff at its sides and its hands were torn and bloody. Its cheeks had rotted away, exposing clenched, bloody teeth and repulsive gums. It had red eyes and breathed like an angry ape.

Moon stuck his head over the tombstone to look but his movement caught the attention of the creature. It spun to face the two and let out a throaty, blood-gurgling scream. Chowder screamed as well and sunk deeper into Socks’ strap pocket. They stood up as it began to charge.

“Get him,” ordered Socks as he positioned himself to pounce.

Moon raised his pistol. He imagined a line that ran from the barrel and aligned it so the bullet would pass between the zombies dark red eyes.

He pulled the trigger and the report echoed through The Fields.

Maxwell pedaled as fast as he could through the streets that led to The Fields. He had forbid Socks to head back there ever again. He had to go save his skin countless times.

They had lost their mother to a zombie that got into New Chicago and caused an outbreak. Their father was part of the defense militia and was lost in the initial fighting.

At least I didn’t have to deal with dad, thought Maxwell. He remembered how he saw his mother bitten. He remembered how he had to kill her when she tried to eat a baby Socks. He remembered how he washed the blood off of his baby brother and how he swore to himself that he would protect him even if it cost him his own life.

That is why he pedaled even harder when he hear the first gunshot.

Moon ran up to the motionless corpse on the ground. Socks gave him a thumbs up and Moon planted another round in the zombies skull for good measure.

“Well that should’ve got their attention,” said Moon.

The feeling in the graveyard changed from an eerie calm to a sudden bristle of activity. It was as if the graveyard was coming alive and dead simultaneously.

“Well let’s go find Zeddie before he finds us,” suggested Socks.

Moon nodded in agreement and together they took off in a brisk jog to find another place to hide. They decided to climb a tree a distance from the first encounter. After a few minutes, Chowder started trembling again.

In the darkness they saw a zombie approaching the dead body. It stopped and let out a groan.

“It’s calling the others,” said Socks.

“What do we do now?” asked Moon.

A rustling at the base of the tree seemed to answer Moon’s question. A zombie looked up at them, its teeth bared in a snarl.

“This one’s mine,” said Socks. He pulled the surgical mask from his bag and slipped it on. It would prevent the infection from entering his mouth from the bloodbath he would soon create. He jumped down from the tree, with Chowder screaming the entire time.

Maxwell jumped off his bike and left it just outside the graveyard. He hopped over the wall and crept through The Fields.

The Fields were at least 2 square miles and this brought despair to Maxwell. He knew he would have a hard time finding Socks. He knew that the longer he took, the less likely it was that he would find Socks alive. He quickly banished those thoughts from his mind and quickened his pace.

He was relatively unprepared for fighting. All he brought was his bike, some old sticks of gum, and a small switchblade that he now held in his left hand.

He was so busy thinking about Socks that he didn’t notice the zombie that was following him since he arrived.

With an earsplitting shriek, the zombie charged. Maxwell was already on guard. The monster was moving too fast to alter its course when Maxwell sidestepped.

As it stumbled to a stop, Maxwell ran up behind it and wrapped his free arm around the zombie’s neck. His muscles tightened, strangling it. It flailed its arms as it gurgled blood. Maxwell flicked open the knife, flipped it backwards, reached over the creatures shoulder, and stabbed at its face, twice. The first stab caught in it its forehead. The second was deep in its eye. With one final roar, the zombie fell limp in Maxwell’s arm. He unceremoniously snapped its neck and moved on.

The zombie’s ribcage cushioned Socks’ fall. It spit up chunks of blood as its lungs were pulverized. Socks unsheathed his blade as the zombie started making wheezing sounds. He pushed its chin up with his free hand, forcing its mouth shut and exposing its molding neck. Then, with careful precision, he plunged the curved blade into its throat, up its esophagus, tearing through its mouth and jaw, and finally lodging the weapon deep in its skull. The creature’s wheezing stopped.

Moon hopped down from the tree and looked with disgust at the mess that Socks had made. The soft ground around the body was soaked and warm with blood. Socks’ hands were sticky and his sleeves were splashed. The surgical mask he wore was stained with a sharp, dark-red line.

Socks saw the look on Moon’s face and laughed. He was still laughing as he yanked Suzie free from the zombie’s skull. Because of the blade’s curve, Socks pulled it free along with pieces of brain and gore.

“I don’t see how you’re so numb to all this,” said Moon as Socks wiped the sword on the zombies body.

“What do you mean?” asked Socks. He was still smiling from laughter but the mask hid it.

“You don’t feel anything when you kill one of them?”

Socks thought for a moment. “They’re not even human, man! They don’t feel anything. They’re as good as dead.” With a chuckle, he kicked the zombie’s mangled skull and sent more bits flying.

“But these . . . things . . . used to be human. They used to be just like us,” said Moon. “I’m just saying, do you have to be so gruesome? You can do it with a little more respect.”

Socks was still an infant when his mother was infected. He doesn’t remember when she tried to kill him after she turned but the stories make him cringe. And now he remembered the stories clearly. He stared at the zombie’s corpse and imagined his mother being one of them. He imagined it having once been somebody. All traces of a smile vanished behind the mask.

“I am nothing like them,” he said it a little harder than he meant it. “Thanks a lot, buzz-kill.”

Moon shrugged. “Whatever, man. Next one’s mine.”

Socks pointed at the zombies who gathered near the first. “You have to be faster than me.” He ran towards the creature, making sure to block Moon’s shot.

Maxwell was now running through The Fields. The gunshots gave him a clue as to which direction Socks was but what really had him worried was at how often the shots were fired.

He called out Socks’ name but the gunshots drowned him out. It didn’t matter anyway. Now, Maxwell clearly saw dozens of zombies heading towards the gunshots. He ran for Socks’ life.

The zombies were running in from all directions. The two boys were running and fighting and running. These were the moments that Socks got his thrills from.

When a zombie reached for Socks, he would run towards it, duck under its reaching arms, and bring up Suzie, still in full sprint, and effectively decapitate the creatures without breaking stride.

Moon didn’t give them a chance to even get close to him. He dropped them as soon as they stepped in his direction. However, he knew that he would run out of ammunition soon.

“Socks!” he yelled out.

Socks didn’t hear him over a zombies dying screams. Moon yelled again.

“I’m very busy!” replied Socks. He snapped a zombie’s neck.

“We gotta’ bug out!” shouted Moon. He planted a round into a crawling zombie.

Socks stopped slicing and dicing and looking around. They were appearing from everywhere now. He tried to remember which direction they came from.

“This way,” he called out. He ran in a line away from the moonlight. He heard footsteps behind him and wasn’t sure if they were Moon’s or the creatures’. He didn’t want to risk looking back. One of the monsters leapt out from behind a tombstone towards Socks. It was quickly put down by a headshot which confirmed that Moon was still alive.

“Keep going!” shouted Moon.

The graveyard was very much alive now. Shadows formed into monstrosities all around them. The sounds of shrieks and roars cried for food. It was as if the boys had stumbled into a torture field deep in the pits of Hell itself.

Out of all the horrible noises, Socks heard someone screaming his name. He thought it was just his imagination. He then panicked, thinking it was Moon. But Moon had already caught up to Socks and was now sprinting alongside him.

As soon as he recognized the voice, another zombie leapt out and brought Socks to the ground.

Maxwell saw a third shadow spring out and pounce on one of the two running figures. His heart dropped. He forced himself to pump his legs even harder but the body he carried now felt a hundred pounds heavier. There was a blur of motion. The second figure reached down and pulled up a flailing shadow by its neck. Someone stood up and used a long, curved weapon to stab and butcher the flailing shadow, whose spasms increased with each attack. Maxwell could see the shadows blood flinging in every direction in the moonlight. The sword wielding figure stepped out of the way as the other dropped the shadow to its knees and shot it in the back of its head.

He ran towards Socks and his friend. The weight began to come off his back with each step. Now it was replaced by rage. Socks was absolutely drenched in blood. Moon was relatively clean for dirt and blood flowing down his arm. Maxwell stared at his arm. Moon met his eyes and looked at himself.

The blood was his own.

His face turned pale and his eyes went wide as he realized he was bitten. The wound was ragged and the blood shined.

“Socks,” he said calmly, trying to hide his crushing despair.

Socks looked at him. Moon tossed him his bag. “What are you—“ he noticed the bite on his best friend. It was as if his legs were made of lead. He didn’t know how to react. In instant, he felt sadness, promptly followed by anger.

Moon smiled. “Take care of yourself, Sock.” He put then gun’s barrel on the side of his head and pulled the trigger.

Socks didn’t hear the report. He didn’t see his best friend’s brains blow out of a gaping hole in the side of his skull. He didn’t hear or see his lifeless body flop to the ground. All he could sense was a debilitating wave of pain wash over him as he stepped over to his best friend’s body and dropped to his knees. It was if Socks had been shot instead. Moon’s smile faded.

He tightened his grip on the blade as new feeling rose from deep within him. It was rage. Rage towards the zombies for taking Moon. Rage towards himself for breaking his promise to Moon.

No, he thought. They made me break my promise.

He stood up, and slowly took a step forward. Then another, and another until he was sprinting back into The Fields. He was blinded with rage. He vowed to tear apart every monster he could find.

He tackled the first zombie that dared to get in his way. He pummeled its face with the back of his blade. Its teeth snapped like chalk.

Maxwell picked up Moon’s gun, ran after Socks, and tried to pull him off. “We have to leave!” Socks shrugged him off and began hammering the zombies bleeding face with his fists.

“We have to—“ he shot a running zombie. “Go! Fucking go!”

With one last wet crack to its skull, Socks had beaten the zombie to death.

He stood up, ready to run deeper into the horde that now assembled around them.

But before he could take another step, Maxwell struck Socks’ skull with the butt of the pistol.

“Ow! What the fuck!” Socks rubbed his head. “What the fuck are you doing?” He turned around and punched Maxwell in the stomach.

Maxwell absorbed the blow. “Oops. That was supposed to knock you out.”

“Well it didn’t fucking work now did it?” Socks lunged at Maxwell, but he caught his fist out of the air.

“We gotta’ go, Socks. Now.” One look into his eyes and Socks snapped out of his rage, looked down at Moon’s body, at the zombie he’d beaten to death, and then at the horde that now closed in around them.

He began to run again. This time away from the monsters.

End of Part I

Part II

“Infection”

Good thing I didn’t really knock him out, thought Maxwell. Otherwise I would’ve never got him out of there. The two brothers now rode together on Maxwell’s bike through the abandoned neighborhoods, with Socks standing on the rear pegs.

Neither of them said a word to each other. Not even when they were far from The Fields. Nor when the screams for their blood faded into the night.

Socks wanted to cry. But he forced himself not to. Mainly because he wasn’t sure who to be angry with. At himself for failing Moon, or at Moon for failing himself. They both knew the risk and went anyway.

Still, Moon was his best friend.

Memories began to flood Socks’ head and he felt nauseas. He held on tighter to Maxwell’s shoulders.

Maxwell misread this as a signal from Socks’ that he wanted to talk.

He opened his mouth to speak, but he didn’t know what to say. Maxwell didn’t really know Moon but he still felt grief over his death.

“I’m sorry,” he finally managed.

Socks didn’t say anything.

They were silent the rest of the ride home.

Socks climbed up the vines first. Maxwell climbed up using one hand while the other held onto his bike.

“Look, Socks,” began Maxwell as he reached the top.

Socks cut him off. “We’ll talk tomorrow or something, man.”

It was too dark for Maxwell to see that tears were finally welling in Socks’ eyes. But he heard it in his voice. After a moment of silence, Maxwell shook his head. He put his hand on his brother’s shoulder and gave it a firm squeeze. Maxwell felt useless by not being able to help him.

Finally, he said goodnight, and climbed down.

Socks watched him leave until he finally let his tears out. He made no noise. He just sat there, in the darkness, high in the branches of the tree, with his knees to his chest. Moon’s namesake shined in the night sky. Chowder squeaked, and Socks took him out of the pocket and petted his short fur. Socks cast one more glance in the direction of The Fields.

After a few minutes, Socks climbed down the tree. On his way down, he noticed the names that were carved into the bark. He never thought Moon’s name would end up being added to the list. Once he reached the bottom, he pulled out Suzie and carved a crescent moon onto the tree bark.

The next night, Maxwell biked it to work. His boss would be angry that he missed the night before and make him work even later this night. Maxwell considered explaining to his boss that he had to go rescue his little brother from The Fields. But no one would have sympathy for just another zombie encounter in a seemingly endless war against the zombies.

Maxwell stopped by Socks’ home on the way to work. He panicked, again, when he saw that his lanterns weren’t lit. In the distance, though, he saw a series of lanterns that were allowed higher into the sky with longer ropes. Maxwell recognized this as a memorial used in the poor areas. In these areas, families would raise more lanterns higher into the sky after the loss of a family member. Back when the government of New Chicago cared more about its people, the lanterns would be signals to officials to bring extra rations for the grieving families as a means of comfort. It is believed by the superstitious, however, that the lanterns are really made brighter and raised higher in order to guide the spirit of the deceased home. Now that New Chicago is ruled by corrupt politicians, the needs of the rich come first and rations are no longer brought to grieving families. The tradition is still practiced, however, and now neighbors bring what they can spare to their mourning neighbors.

Maxwell headed to the lanterns. After a few minutes, he reached a small hut that looked a bit more tidy than Socks’. He found Socks sitting outside the door, smoking a cigarette.

“Brother,” called Maxwell.

Socks looked at Maxwell, and managed to give a slight nod of the head and tapped two fingers to his forehead in a sort of salute to his brother. Maxwell walked over to Socks, set his bike against the hut, and sat with him.

“Where’d you get those?” he asked, gesturing towards the cigarette in between Socks’ fingers.

“Stole ‘em,” said Socks flatly. He took another deep drag and exhaled smoke through his nose.

“Those aren’t good for you.”

Socks slowly turned his head and gave his brother a questioning look.

“What’s the point?” he asked. “Better I off myself slowly before Zeddie does.”

Maxwell winced. He heard the pain in Socks’ voice, and it hurt him ten-fold.

“So, this is Moon’s place?”

Socks nodded. “I told his mom already.” He took another drag and said, with smoke coming out of his mouth, “The poor lady. Moon was all she—“ Socks stopped abruptly and had to choke back tears.

Maxwell made a mental note to start buying supplies for this woman as well. He took the cigarette from Socks’ fingers and flicked it away. Now that his hands were empty, Socks buried his face in them.

Maxwell never really had to comfort Socks before so this was all very new to him. Socks always took care of himself. He was a tough kid in Maxwell’s eyes. But now he was broken, and Maxwell had no idea what to do.

I have to distract him somehow, thought Maxwell.

“Hey,” he said. “Why don’t you tag along with me to work? I’m sure I can sneak you a few drinks.”

Socks looked up at him and sniffled. “The hard stuff?”

“I’m not getting you any weak sauce if that’s what you’re asking,” smiled Maxwell.

________________________________________________________

Socks sat on a stool at the bar with Chowder sitting in front of him. Maxwell was busy bartending. It was late already so the only people around were factory workers and the homeless. Fortunately, it was a slow night and everyone kept to themselves in the dimly lit, downtown bar.

Socks nursed a coffee mug filled with several things that he took when Maxwell wasn’t looking. He grimaced after every sip. He lit another cigarette and pulled an ash tray closer. The ash tray was already filled with ash and other filth. He let out a steady string of smoke from his mouth and inhaled it back through his nose.

Suddenly, soldiers hurried past the broken windows of the bar. They yelled orders and pointed their guns in every direction. One of them glanced into the bar, and moved on. Socks let out the smoke and wondered what had just happened.

A man thudded into the bar and sat a few stools from Socks. Socks could tell by the chipped armor, boots, the dark helmet that concealed his face, and the knifes sheathed on his ankles and chest, that the man was a mercenary. Or at least a bounty hunter. Either way, he obviously was on the government’s pay role.

Socks had never seen a mercenary in such a public place. They usually traveled in groups and went to better places. Socks saw from Maxwell’s expression that he also thought that this man was out of place.

He had money, of course, so Maxwell immediately went to service him.

Socks decided to not worry about the mercenary and went back to his drink. After two more sips, the warmth finally settled into his stomach, and Socks realized that he had made a grave error.

Now completely intoxicated, he pushed the cup aside. He took some time to reflect on the past few days.

A few days ago, Moon was still alive. And now, Socks really wished that he still was. He forced himself to think about the good times they had. Chowder squeaked at his master, apparently sensing his thoughts. Socks remembered when they found Chowder.

A few months ago, they skipped school to hunt rats together using Suzie and a slingshot. They walked to an old warehouse where the critters were known to live. After crawling through a hole in the fence, the boys crawled up a fire escape to get into the warehouse.

At first, it was easy pickings. Socks would scare them out into the open and Moon would pick off a few using rusted nails before they found new hiding places. Other times, Socks would hide at the end of a corridor and Moon would scare them towards him. Once they were close enough, he would jump out of hiding and stomp on the rats or chop them up. They never kept the rats that Socks killed; he never left much to use.

They traveled deeper into the warehouse and soon walked into a large room. Large machinery and conveyer belts filled the space. The far wall was covered with windows. The windows were yellow with age and dirt.

The two boys wandered quietly into the room, looking for any signs of movement. They couldn’t see the rats but they heard them well enough.

After a few turns through the maze, Socks found a cluster of the critters gathered behind a big cabinet. He silently signaled Moon to the other side. Socks tiptoed over, and then gave the cabinet a shake.

This sent rats running and squeaking in every direction away from Socks. Unfortunately for them, Moon waited on the other side with slingshot and rusted nails in hand.

Lots of practice allowed Moon to add another projectile to the sling almost as fast as he released them. And his perfect aim allowed him to place nails in the skulls of the rats with a wet crack. He was able to nail (pun intended) a dozen of them before the rest found safety.

“Man, you’re real good at this,” said Socks. He walked over to the bodies and started to toss them into his bag. “I’ve been thinking; maybe we should keep at this hunting for a few more weeks, sell the rats, and get you a nice piece with the loot we make.”

Moon laughed. “Getting a gun is easy. It’s just bullets that are tough to get. That’s why I like this slingshot. I can make bullets out of anything!”

Socks laughed along with him. They gathered all of the bodies and stood up to find more. But then Socks heard a soft squeaking.

“I think there’s a baby back there, too,” he said. “Nice of them to abandon it. Oh well. I’ll do it this time.

Socks went to one side of the cabinet while Moon kicked at the other side. Socks raised his foot, ready to crush whatever crawled out from behind the cabinet.

But then, a small hamster crawled out. It’s fur was dirty and matted down. It looked very skinny and it walked with a limp. As soon as it saw Socks’ foot raised above him, it shook and squeaked and cried.

Socks saw the hamster, and couldn’t bring himself to kill it. He gently lowered his leg and knelt in front of the critter.

“Hey, little guy.” He reached for it and it seemed to flinch as he did. “I’m not gonna’ hurt you. Hey, Moon! Check it out!”

Moon walked over and saw the poor little hamster inching away from Socks’ fingers. “It must’ve been living with the rats.”

Socks reached out even more and gently stroked its fur. “It’s way too skinny. Can’t really use it for its meat.”

“What do we do with it?” asked Moon.

“We can’t just leave him. I don’t think he gots much time left.”

Moon thought for a second. “Let’s keep it. I heard these things can smell Zeddie. That might help us out later.”

The hamster became less afraid and stepped towards Socks. He picked it up and let it walk all over his hand. The squeaks were of happiness now.

“Should we name him?”

“How do you know it’s a him?” Moon picked it up and looked at its underside.

“Do you see anything?”

“Not really,” replied Moon. He put it back in Socks’ hand.

“Let’s just say he’s a guy. We’ll find out more later.”

“Let’s name him Brutus!”

Socks stared at Moon.

“Colossus?”

Socks shook his head.

“Tank?”

Socks shook his head.

“Then what?”

“Well he’s obviously not big. I don’t think he’s tough either.”

“But I want people to think he is,” whined Moon.

Socks thought about it. “We’ll figure out a name for him later.”

“Alright. Well let’s get home. My mom’s making chowder tonight!”

The two boys left the warehouse and went home, with Moon coming up with names the whole way.

Socks wasn’t sure if he truly missed Moon or if it was just the alcohol, but he now wept all over the bar. After a while, the alcohol brought a different feeling.

He hopped off of the stool and hobbled outside towards the alley. He found a private spot and emptied his stomach all over a few garbage cans.

“What’ll it be, sir?”

The mercenary rested his elbows on the bar and cracked his knuckles. He pulled off his dark helmet, revealing a chiseled face and short, razor cut hair, and put it on the stool next to him. Maxwell guessed from the man’s eyes that he hasn’t been getting enough sleep. He glanced at Socks and saw him taking another sip.

“Just a beer.”

Maxwell gave him a drink and took another look at Socks. Socks looked devastated. He really must be taking it bad, thought Maxwell. Socks began to cry. He abruptly hopped off the stool and ran out of the bar. Maxwell was going to go after him but he was intrigued by the mercenary in his bar.

“So what brings you here, soldier?”

The mercenary stared hard at Maxwell, making him regret asking.

“That’s alright, man. Don’t need to talk.” Maxwell shrugged and went to clean out glasses.

After a few sips of beer, and a few quiet minutes, the mercenary spoke up.

“Bartender.”

Maxwell looked over his shoulder at him. “You need something, brother?”

“Got any smokes?”

Maxwell reached under the counter and pulled out a cardboard carton. He opened it and set it in front of the man.

“Help yourself,” smiled Maxwell. “They’re on me.”

The mercenary grunted, took a cigarette, and lit it. He took long, heavy drags; a sign that he really needed it.

“You alright there, brother?” asked Maxwell.

This time, his glare was filled with poison.

“Listen here,” he began. Maxwell sighed. He’d been over this situation many times with customers who’ve had too much to drink. Except the mercenary had just started his first beer. “I’m not your brother and I’m not a soldier. You’re a complete stranger and you don’t mean shit to me. This entire ‘paradise’ is shit so I would never serve to protect it either.” He took another hit off of his cigarette and muttered, “I hope the horde tears this place apart.”

A horde of zombies was always bad news. Even speaking about a zombie horde was close to taboo in New Chicago. The reason for that was that every horde that has came close to the paradise has always left a trail of death and destruction. Maxwell’s parents died in the last attack. The mercenary’s words reopened his wounds and raised an alarm within him.

“Horde?” he asked, controlling his voice.

The mercenary looked away from Maxwell and swore under his breath. “What’s your name, son?”

“Maxwell. Yours?”

“Teros.” The two shook hands, but Maxwell’s expression remained serious and determined.

“What was that about a horde, Teros?”

Teros fidgeted with his hands. “Get me a scotch.”

Maxwell didn’t move at first. He felt as if the mercenary were hiding something.

As Maxwell poured the drink, Socks wobbled back into the bar and hopped onto

his stool. His skin was pale and he was sweating.

Teros downed the glass in one gulp and ordered another. When Maxwell placed the second shot in front of him, Teros just stared at it.

“You from here, Max?”

Maxwell nodded. “My parents came from the Vegas paradise, and I was born here.”

“Do you love your home?”

Again, Maxwell nodded.

“Well I hate to say it, Max, but you have to get out of here fast.”

“What are you talking about?”

Teros drank the shot and placed the glass upside down on the bar. He reached for his helmet and slipped it on. The voice that came out from the helmets small speaker was metallic and raspy. He made sure, however, to keep his voice down.

“There’s a horde out there. Some idiot was at that old graveyard and made a whole mess of noise. Brought in every zombie for miles. They aren’t heading this exact direction but sooner or later they’ll find it.”

Maxwell couldn’t believe what he was hearing. He didn’t want to believe that it was because of Socks and Moon that a horde was now bearing down on their city.

“But why haven’t we started fortifying? The last time there was going to be an invasion, we were set up days in advance.”

In the last invasion, the one that Maxwell’s parents lost their lives in, New Chicago defense volunteers spent days building walls, laying mine fields, and surveying fences for holes. It didn’t do the paradise much good in the end.

Teros laughed. “Well your leaders have decided that there isn’t enough manpower to take on a wave of that size.”

“Fuck.” Maxwell looked at Socks who had passed out on the bar. He snored slightly. “How big?”

Teros stood. “Big enough that they’ve decided to evacuate the paradise. And to nuke what’s left.”

“What nuke?”

“The one that’s in every paradise. Placed right at the center of the city and rigged to detonate as a last resort.”

Maxwell let out a sigh of relief. He laughed a little. “Where are the evac sites?”

Teros cocked his head. “Say again?”

“Where do we go to be evacuated? Is there trucks, choppers, what is it?”

“You don’t get it,” said Teros. “They’re not evacuating you. Any of you. They’re taking only politicians and generals and all of the like.”

Maxwell felt his heart rate quicken. “They’re leaving us?”

“They’re using you as bait. Something to keep Zeddie busy while they make their escape.”

“Wait a second, how do you know all this?” asked Maxwell, though he secretly knew that it was very likely that a horde had gathered at The Fields.

“Because I was sent on the reconnaissance run to confirm that there really is a massive group assembling. 5 of us went. 3 came back. And when we returned to give our report, they killed the rest of my team so word wouldn’t get out.”

“How did you escape then?”

Teros unsheathed the knife on his chest armor and showed the blade to Maxwell. It was caked with dried blood. “I almost didn’t.” He sheathed the knife in one deft motion.

Maxwell still didn’t want to believe the mercenary. “And how are they leaving?”

“Shit if I know,” shrugged Teros. “Most likely a helicopter will take them out to a carrier out in Lake Michigan. Then from there, they’ll detonate the nuke.”

“We’ve got to stop them!” growled Maxwell. He didn’t raise his voice, though. He didn’t want any of the bar patrons to overhear the conversation and spread the word. Maxwell looked around to see if anyone was eavesdropping. The few patrons were hunched over their drinks, lost in their own thoughts.

“It’s no use, kid. They’re already after me, and I could get away from here easy enough. But once they know you know, they’ll do whatever it takes to protect their little fucking secret.”

“Well, how are you getting out?”

“You can’t come.”

“I don’t want to go with you. I want to take myself and my little brother somewhere safe. Not tagging behind a hunted man.”

Teros laughed. “Best shot is heading out through the rivers. But that’s if you have the right—“

Maxwell cut him off. “I’ll have no problem getting out of here. I meant where are you going?”

“Like I said: You can’t come.”

“Well what do you recommend?”

“Head east, away from the horde. Or north to Wisconsin. Whichever direction you go, you’re better off heading to another paradise. Travel light by night.”

“Thank you.”

Teros reached into a small pouch from his thigh armor, pulled out a few bottle caps and slapped them on the bar. “Keep the change. And good luck.”

He thudded out of the bar and disappeared into the shadows.

Maxwell stared blankly at the caps on the bar. It was enough for a decent tip. But suddenly, money felt so meaningless. He looked over at Socks. He was passed out, face down, on the bar. At that moment, Maxwell remembered back to when Socks was still a baby and Maxwell would always watch him sleep. He would stay up for hours watching over his baby brother, protecting him from bad dreams (or so he liked to imagine).

Except those were just bad dreams that he had to fend off. Now, he had to protect Socks against a nightmare that was not only real but would leave only death in its wake.

Socks awoke at dawn. Once again, the sky was tainted a pale orange. He woke up on a bed that wasn’t his. It took a few moments for Socks to realize that he was in Maxwell’s house.

Maxwell must’ve taken the couch again, he thought. This was a common routine for the brothers. Socks would get drunk and Maxwell would have to take him back to his house before he began fighting people. The little brother never realized that his brother would let him have his bed out of kindness.

Socks sat up, and immediately regretted it. He felt his heart beating in his skull and just the sound of the sheets rustling was like 100-foot waves crashing into mountains. He stood up, this time with extreme care, and headed to Maxwell’s kitchen.

Maxwell had already set up a small breakfast of oranges and eggs. He and his roommate, Alex, were already eating.

Socks wobbled over to the table. He sat down carefully. “Do you guys have to chew so loud?”

Alex laughed with a mouthful of orange. Maxwell didn’t say anything.

“So what was up with that merc last night?” asked Socks. He picked at the eggs with his fingers.

Maxwell stiffened. “Not much. Just a bad day on the job for him.”

“I would love to be a merc. Killing for money.”

“It ain’t easy,” said Alex. “Most of those guys are trained from birth for their job.”

“But I train just as much!” shouted Socks. He winced and held his head between his hands. “Tell him, Max.”

Maxwell sighed. “He thinks killing a few stupid zombies makes him a warrior.”

“But it does!”

“It makes you a survivor,” retorted Maxwell.

Socks glared at his brother. I’m a better survivor than you, he thought. He wished he would’ve said it aloud.

“I’m surprised you even remember him,” continued Maxwell. “You weren’t exactly of sound mind last night.”

“Yeah, no thanks to your shitty juice. I’ve stolen better bottles from what you guys had.”

“Hey, chill out little man, you’re lucky you got to drink for free,” said Alex.

“Stolen is better than free,” replied Socks.

Alex laughed again. The three continued to eat in silence. Meals in a paradise wouldn’t have come from any pre-Z-Day “paradise”. Meals in Socks’ village ate mostly rat meat and rice. Water was delivered daily from the paradise’s old water purification plants. Sometimes, however, the deliveries would never come. In slightly more privileged villages, like Maxwell’s, the families made enough money to go to the market for food, instead of having to hunt for it in the alleys. Since both Maxwell and Alex worked, they seldom missed a meal.

Socks finished his plate before his hosts. While he did live in a poor neighborhood, he never faced hunger as much as the other families. Maxwell would buy supplies for him weekly. He would often forget that Socks lives alone and buy him more food than he needs. Socks would give the majority of it to Moon and his mother. Now, with Moon gone, he doesn’t know what he’ll do with the extra food. He considers trading it, but then decides to still give enough to support Moon’s mother.

“Socks,” said Maxwell, interrupting Socks’ thoughts.

Socks looked up. “What’s up?”

Alex shook his head. Maxwell sighed. “I asked how would you like moving to another paradise?”

Socks recoiled at the question as if Maxwell had spit at him. “What the hell for?” he asked.

Maxwell weighed his words carefully. “Things are getting tough here. The house is getting more expensive and work isn’t bringing enough to keep supporting us.”

Socks stared through Maxwell. Out of the corner of his eye, Maxwell saw Alex give a slight nod of his head, a signal to try something else.

“Plus it’s getting more dangerous around here,” added Maxwell.

“It’s always been dangerous here,” said Socks. Maxwell didn’t respond. He didn’t want to tell Socks the truth, because he knew that he would feel responsible and would probably do something reckless.

Socks suddenly widened his eyes, as if realizing something. “That’s not the real reason is it?”

Maxwell hesitated long enough for Socks to figure out he was about to lie.

“Then what is it? Is someone threatening you?!” Socks became agitated. Maxwell stood up to try and calm him down.

“No, little brother, it’s nothi—“

“Who the fuck is it?!” Socks leapt up from his chair and pulled his blade, which he named Suzie (Maxwell always wondered why), out from his boot. He slammed it onto the table and snarled, baring his teeth. He was breathing heavily. “I’ll fucking kill the bitch, I swear!”

“Socks!” Maxwell stood up now. “Nobody’s threatening me. We just have to talk about something serious, all 3 of us.”

Socks looked at Alex who hadn’t moved throughout all of this. All he did was give Socks a smile and shake his head.

Finally, Socks’ breathing slowed and he sat back down. He yanked his blade out of the table and put it back in his boot.

“Well, then what is it?”

Maxwell let out the breath he had been holding. “We have to leave New Chicago, Socks.”

“Why?”

“There’s a horde out there.”

Socks smiled. “How many?”

Maxwell couldn’t believe what he was seeing and hearing. “You’re not fighting them. There’s too many, Socks. We’re leaving. And that’s final.”

“Wait, hold on. So there’s a bunch of zombies out there and you don’t want to let me thin their numbers? And on top of that, you want to run away? Like some fucking pussy?”

“Hey,” began Alex. He was about to continue but Maxwell made a small gesture with his hand; a signal to keep quiet.

“Not only that,” continued Socks, “but you’re going to abandon our people? Our home? Just because you’re scared of Zeddie?”

Maxwell sighed. “Socks,” he began.

Socks interrupted him. “No! I don’t want to hear that shit. Zeddie’s a fucking idiot and that just makes you an even bigger one to be afraid of him.”

“I’m not afraid to defend us, Socks. I’m just afraid for you.”

“Fuck you. I can take care of myself.”

“Really? Like you took care of Moon?”

Maxwell regretted his words as soon as they came out. Even he felt their sting. He didn’t really want to hurt Socks. He just wanted to get his message across. He looked at his little brother and realized that he had done more than that.

Socks’ eyes were made of fire. His breathing was heavier than before now. He slowly stood up again.

“Say that again.” He didn’t really say this, he dared this.

“Socks, I’m sorry.”

Maxwell truly was sorry. He had a feeling, however, that Socks was beyond apologies already.

He guessed right. Socks gripped the table, and flung it to the side. The plates crashed to the floor. Socks was red with anger. He reached down towards his boot—

—until Alex tackled him. He wrestled Socks to the floor. Socks swung at him. Alex caught his fist out of the air then turned Socks over and wrenched his arm behind him in one motion. With his free hand, Socks reached down towards his boot. Alex stopped him by putting his knee, and some of his weight, on the free arm. Socks struggled and squirmed. Alex gripped the back of Socks neck and held him down. Socks roared in anger. Alex leaned over and said something to Socks that Maxwell couldn’t hear.

At first Socks just got more angry. He spit blood out onto the floor and told Alex to fuck himself. Alex still continued talking and soon Socks’ struggling stopped. Maxwell saw Socks nod. Then he said “OK” and Alex got off.

Maxwell never found out what Alex had said to him. But whatever it was, it calmed Socks down.

Alex picked up the table and put it on its legs again while Socks fixed the chairs he had knocked over. Blood stained his teeth.

After what seemed like an eternity of awkwardness and tension, Socks sat back down.

“I’m not leaving,” he said, calmly.

________________________________________________________

“We have to Socks. Don’t you understand that I want to protect you? That I want what’s best for you?”

“This is our home, Max. Even dad protected it and he wasn’t even from here!”

“I don’t want you to turn out like dad.” Socks realized that when Maxwell would talk about their parents, it almost always put him in a trance-like state where he seemed emotionless. But Socks knew that it was just his way of hiding all the pain that he was undoubtedly feeling. “It wasn’t his fight.”

“But he still fought it anyway.” Now Socks was feeling hurt as well. “For us.”

Alex stood and walked to the other side of the room, respecting the privacy of the moment the brothers were having.

“What would he think of us if we just ran away?” continued Socks. “He fought so that we could live another day in this fucking hell.”

“And you want to throw away his gift by staying to fight?” asked Maxwell. He almost yelled this. Socks felt even more hurt. Maxwell hardly ever yelled at him. And now he was saying that by fighting he would be disrespecting his father and all he fought for.

Socks crossed his arms on the table and buried his face in them. He didn’t want to be a coward and run away. Socks had always fought. Even when he was younger. He fought for scraps in the streets. He felt that he had to fight to survive. He had never ran away from a fight. Maxwell practically had to drag him from The Fields.

And now Maxwell was telling him to abandon their home and with it his ideals of never running away. Not only was it cowardly to Socks, it made every struggle he had experienced in New Chicago meaningless.

Socks lifted his face from his arms. “It would be a bigger waste of dad’s gift to not stay and fight. He fought for us. Was it just so that we can live? Or so that we can carry on that fight? We’re always going to be at war with these fucking monsters. It’s not as if we run away and suddenly we’re safe. They’ll always be walking in every street just waiting for their chance to fucking kill us. Right now, you see danger coming this way. Me? I see an opportunity to kill as many of them as possible. Even if I die doing it.”

Socks stood up. “I’m not running away, Max. You can go ahead and leave. But don’t expect me to come with you.”

And with that, Socks walked out of the house.

Maxwell stood in silence. He couldn’t decide whether to be angry or hurt. He wanted to be angry at Socks for not wanting to go away with Alex and himself. They would be safer and that’s all he wanted for his little brother. But really, he was mostly hurt because his brother rejected his offer. Maxwell felt that Socks really had no idea how much he cared for him.

Finally, Alex broke the silence. “He’s right, you know.”

Maxwell glared at him. “You can’t be serious.”

The two roommates had planned an entire conversation to convince Socks to leave with them. Maxwell felt a little betrayed to see that Alex had sided with Socks.

“Well it’s not the safest thing to do, obviously, but the kid just wants to do what’s right. He doesn’t care if it’s reckless.” Alex paused for a few moments to let that sink in. “Maybe he feels like he has to prove something.”

“What does he have to prove?” countered Maxwell. “He’s always fighting; getting into scraps at school, sneaking out to The Fields, and all his other crap. If he wants to try to be a little tough guy, he’s notorious for it.”

Alex shrugged. “Maybe it’s because of his little friend. Moon, was it?”

Maxwell winced. He was so ready to chew out Socks for being stubborn and disobeying that he completely forgot that Socks had just experienced one of his own losses. He regretted wanting to yell at him. He should’ve been supporting him in everything he wanted.

Alex continued. “Maybe he doesn’t want to prove that he’s tough. Maybe he just wants to prove that he’s a hero. That he can save people. Actually, maybe he doesn’t even want to prove it. He just wants to be a hero. He wants to help people. You can’t be upset at him for that. In fact, you should support your little brother’s wishes.”

“But what if it can get him killed?”

Alex smiled. “Like I said: you should support your little brother.”

“You don’t mean to fight with him, do you?”

“That’s exactly what I mean. And don’t worry, I’ll be there to help you guys out.”

“But what if you get hurt?”

Alex shrugged again. “Fuck it. At least I’ll die with my brothers.”

That really hit a nerve in Maxwell. He realized that above all, Socks didn’t want to be a hero either. He wanted to fight like one, but he wanted to die alongside his brother.

Maxwell felt honored at first. But couldn’t imagine the thought of Socks passing away or worse: becoming a zombie.

“I guess I’ll just have to make sure that we won’t have to die.”

End of Part II

Part III

“Decontamination”

Socks crept in the night through what was once a parking lot. Now, it was a small military base surrounded by a barbed wire fence. Tents were scattered in the area and most soldiers were already asleep. Since the base wasn’t in zombie territory, the guards weren’t very alert. Still, he took care to avoid campfires and ducked behind tents at the sound of footsteps.

He had to get inside the building that neighbored the lot. The building used to be an old world market and was now used as a headquarters. Sheets of metal covered the windows and uniformed guards protected the main entrance. Socks snuck around to the rear entrance.

Each HQ had an old hurricane siren on the rooftop that was used to signal the citizens of danger. In the event of a zombie invasion, the sirens of each HQ would sound and all citizens would proceed to evacuation sites towards Lake Michigan while soldiers and defense volunteers rushed to the paradise’s perimeter.

Socks remembered his “briefing” with Maxwell and Alex earlier that morning.

“They’re not going to warn the people this time, Socks,” Maxwell had said.

“Who’s they?” he asked.

“The head people. The ones that make the laws and that were supposed to protect us.”

“But why not?”

“They figured that they will have a better chance to escape while Zeddie is distracted by the entire population of the paradise.”

“It may also be because they’d rather just abandon us then put in the effort to defeat a horde of this size,” added Alex.

“So your job, Socks, is to warn the people,” said Maxwell. “It won’t be enough to just run around in the streets and shout that a horde is coming; no one would believe you. You need to activate a siren at one of the headquarters. You should try the Kelly HQ. It’s closer and has a smaller staff. If the other headquarters follow procedure then they’ll sound their sirens until the whole city is alerted.”

Socks laughed. “That’ll blow up their little plan.”

Now Socks crouched in the darkness and watched the lone guard at the rear entrance of the HQ. Not only was he guarding the back door but also a ladder that led to the roof. Socks had to get him away from his post. He was sure that any of the soldiers in the base wouldn’t have a problem gunning down a trespasser.

Socks figured that he would be discovered immediately after sounding the siren so he decided stealth was not a priority at this point. He crept over to a nearby tent and made sure that no one was at the front of it. He reached over towards the campfire, pulled out a burning branch and hurled into the tent. He laughed as the dry cloth caught fire and then ran back to his hiding spot.

The guard ran from his post to help put out the flames. There were shouts and screams as soldiers ran out of the tent engulfed in flames.

Socks waited until the guard was out of sight and sprinted toward the ladder. He took a quick glance over his shoulder. The burning soldiers were now writhing on the floor. Woops, he thought to himself.

He reached the ladder and climbed up, taking care not to make too much noise and to not draw attention to himself. It didn’t matter, though, since the fire had now spread to a neighboring tent which served as a great distraction.

Socks stopped when he reached the top and peeked over the ledge. There were two guards as well on the roof. Socks cursed himself for not considering them before. Luckily they were gathered on a ledge away from the ladder, focused on the fire.

Socks climbed onto the roof.

Maxwell sat on his bike outside the base. He took care to remain in the shadows so the soldiers wouldn’t spot him and question him.

He had dropped off Socks a few minutes before. He got nervous when he spotted the first fire. He became worried when he saw it spread. And now he was scared for Socks’ life when he saw two bodies fall from the rooftop and a ladder topple over.

I shouldn’t have let him go alone. he thought.

Suddenly, the hurricane siren sounded. Faintly, at first, and then growing to a steady, piercing shriek.

He saw the confusion spread through the base as soldiers rushed out of their tents. They seemed unsure of whether to fight the fire or to set up the defenses.

Maxwell panicked when he couldn’t spot Socks. He began regretting all sorts of things. He began to regret letting him go alone. He began to regret not getting a gun for him. He began to regret not going himself.

Suddenly, a voice startled him out of his worries. “Alright, let’s go!”

Socks hopped onto the pegs of the bike.

“Riots erupt in all sectors as news of an inbound zombie horde spreads. Law enforcement is torn between executing rioters and sending officers to defend the city. Governor Baily is not available to comment on the threat of invasion. The question, however, on New Chicago’s mind is: How long has he kept this threat a secret?”

Socks, Maxwell, and Alex stood among hundreds of citizens just inside of the fence that Socks and Moon had crossed. The morning was humid and windy. Socks’ clothes clung to him. He gave Chowder sips from his water bottle.

The crowd was armed with bats, machetes, metal bars, and just about every type of club. Several people had rifles. All of them were eager to fight. They were eager to defend their homes. Socks was happy to see that other people shared his beliefs of not running.

The crowd watched through the fence as hundreds of soldiers lined up on the other side. Beyond this line of defense, dozens of trucks with mounted machine guns and several buses packed with heavily armed soldiers waited.

A few miles of land had been cleared around the fence. At the end of this clearing began the neighborhoods that Socks and Moon walked through.

And several into the neighborhoods, the horde marched.

At the rate they walked, they would be at their doorstep in an hour. Socks wasn’t sure why the soldiers were just waiting for Zeddie to come.

And then the first shots sounded. They came from behind him. The report shook Socks’ insides. It was as if a thunderstorm had erupted over New Chicago. Once the firing stopped and the echoes died out there was a whistling in the air.

A split second later, the artillery shells landed in the massive wave of flesh that was the horde. Socks saw their impact plumes of debris even from miles away. Pieces of houses flew into the air. A second later, the explosions sounded across the clearing.

A large portion of the crowd cheered. The rest stayed silent, wishing that they would get their chance to fight.

“Comanche 7 to base, there’s a lot of smoke out here. It looks like the shells did their job well, over.”

“Comanche 7, what’s the status of the horde? Over.”

“Hold on a sec, sir. It looks like—oh shit.”

“Repeat that Comanche 7. Is it safe to send in ground forces to exterminate any remaining infections?”

“Negative, sir. Suggesting another barrage to sector Gamma.”

The crowd cheered again as another volley of shells were fired into the horde. The neighborhoods exploded into debris and erupted into flames. A few more minutes passed and Socks saw the same helicopter circle back around over the area.

It hovered over the neighborhood and banked side to side. Socks guessed that it was delivering a report to whoever was firing the artillery.

Apparently the report was not good. The chopper sped away as another wave of shells was fired. This time, fewer people cheered. Then, no one cheered as more shots were fired consecutively.

About a dozen more volleys were fired until they stopped. The silence that replaced the shots was unsettling.

Either they ran out of ammo. . . or it’s not working, thought Socks.

The nervous looks on the soldiers outside of the fence didn’t help to calm the crowd who now whispered amongst each other. No one wanted to believe that the horde was so massive that the artillery shells weren’t enough.

The soldiers, almost reluctantly, started marching towards the horde that had now entered the clearing. The trucks and buses drove alongside them.

Socks walked closer to the fence and peered through. The soldiers marched as if they knew that they were going to die. He looked past them at the horde.

He could see no end to it. It was as if a sea of flesh and blood was pouring from the neighborhoods and was going to flood New Chicago with terror. Their combined groans and shrieks and roars sent chills through Socks’ spine. He was used to their calls of blood. But this time he was incredibly outnumbered.

Maxwell came up next to Socks.

He saw what Socks saw and let out a low whistle.

“Weren’t expecting this now, where we?” he asked.

The rattle of gunfire sounded in the distance. It was almost entirely drowned out by the sounds of the horde. A few explosions from grenades sounded. The crowd was deathly silent.

“At least we have a good fight coming to us,” said Socks.

Hardly five minutes passed until the gunfire stopped completely. “Pussies,” said Socks.

“Is it our turn now, brother?” asked Maxwell.

Socks expected more of a resistance against the zombies. He was actually hoping that they would survive. Deep inside, however, Socks knew that if he died he at least would die with his brothers, and he would die defending everything he loved.

Socks nodded. He pulled out Chowder, gave him a kiss on the head, and put him on the floor. “I’ll come back for ya’ later, buddy.” Chowder squeaked happily and scampered away. Socks then unsheathed Suzie. He turned to face Maxwell. “I’m sorry for being such a punk sometimes, Max. And for appreciating everything you’ve done.”

Maxwell put an arm around Socks’ head and pulled him closer. “Don’t worry about it, man. I’ll fight to the death for you.”

“Guess it’s about that time then,” said Socks. “Alex.”

“What’s up little man?” asked Alex.

“I’ve always hated you.”

Alex laughed. “See you on the other side, man.”

Socks gripped the fence and pushed at it. Maxwell ran to his aide and soon several people from the crowd joined. They knocked down the fence and brought their melee weapons to bear. Socks made sure to get the first kill.

“How shall we proceed, Governor?”

“How far has the infection spread?”

“The Willis Tower has been abandoned.”

*Radio Silence*

“Proceed with the detonation.”

