Ready and... Action!! Page 2

He looked back at Tiny. His eyes lingered on the wreck, studying it as if he could’ve done better. This guy had guts. He had it in abundance. Chuck confirmed he was right in thinking Tiny was one person that would actually survive here. He was very right. He was the one with the weapon, the one that really carried any form of threat. But he would never have reached this far without Tiny, no. He was sure of it.

  Observing and admiring the dude, he suddenly noticed Tiny’s expression change sharply. Squint and grimness suddenly turned wide, wide with sick discovery.

  But what discovery?

  Still staring at Tiny, Chuck heard him utter a dismal “Oh God!”

  He returned his sight to the ruin and suddenly his heart collapsed. His face drained of color and life and his eyes grew wide with fright. Whatever satisfaction he’d obtained from exploding that gas tank quickly melted and evanesced, replaced by newfound terror. He felt himself go stiff, like he’d developed some sort of ataxia. This same thing had happened back when they lost Jack. He couldn’t move, not even when a shadow rushed past him.

  The zombies advanced, in heavy numbers. He saw them through the thick rising clouds of smoke. He failed at the attempt to estimate their numbers. They seemed to keep pouring out of crannies that infested the buildings off the street.

  They stumbled forward over the littered street, most of them running with a disheartening speed. Those that tripped over the burnt bodies were heavily and carelessly trampled and stamped on by the hordes behind. Their howls, their snarls, they thickened the heated air with chills.

  “Chuck! C’mon mate!”

  He shook. Movement was injected into him. He spun and began to move his feet. Tiny was a few metres away from him, running for dear life. He followed. Once again, Tiny’d come to his rescue. The chap had his Camcorder on his shoulder with the lens pointing to his backwards.

  Numerous heavy footsteps noised behind him. Their growls bit at his skin. Soon, they would be biting at his skin. The thought filled him with fuel. He added more energy. His pace increased. Soon he was almost beside Tiny. Their noisy footfalls bowed to the hungry howls of the monsters on their heels.

  “Wasn’t there any more of those tanks?” Chuck asked. His voice sounded out of breath and panicky.

  “There were only the large ones,” Tiny replied. “I never should’ve used that stuff. They heard the sound. They were drawn to it.”

  “I’ve never seen so many,” Chuck said. He’d never seen so many. It made the ones that’d attacked them at the weapons shop seem like a very minute fraction. What the hell, they were a very minute fraction!

  In his mind’s eyes, he saw them scrambling for him with their bestial desire for his flesh, their incomprehensible hunger, their snarls of unquenchable appetite. He shut the thoughts out. He shut every other peripheral sense out and concentrated on running.

  He didn’t turn them back on, not even when he thought he heard Tiny say something. However, he was pointing forward and he caught the sight of the great wall that had its beyond as their safety.

  Were they going to get home finally?

  He noticed Tiny pulling the Camcorder off his shoulder.

  *****

  THEIR noises were becoming all the more disturbing. He stared at the blackness in front. The timer still continued. This wasn’t the end, he knew. A fist gave a sharp rap at the door. It attracted his attention. He twisted his neck to face the door.

  Why can’t they just walk away? He was beginning to grow sick, an ominous sensation filling the pit of his stomach.

  Color quickly replaced the blackness. He returned his eyes forward. He could deal with them later. At least, they couldn’t get in.

  *****

  CHUCK pulled the rope out from inside the damaged, grayed with rust, jeep. Hours ago, they’d kept the rope, along with bags they were supposed to use to transport their loot and souvenirs inside. He cast a short, regretful look at the black bags. They were returning with nothing. And they’d lost both Norma and Jack.

  Tiny came around with a three-pronged iron hook. The hook was quickly fastened to the end of the rope. Promptly, they moved to the wall. There was no time to waste, not when there was a legion of flesh-hungry undead that wanted them for eating.

  The wall was a vast structure chiefly made of stone Chuck believed was harder than the diamond and metal coating in sections quite close to the top. Rumor had it that it had been constructed a year prior to the outbreak, with the sense that the government had probably expected it. It extended far and wide, encompassing the square miles of approximately three very large cities.

  Within it, the uninfected lived in perfect health, free from contamination and fear of it; living life like there had been no apocalypse, like nothing had happened, like there weren’t millions of undead out there screaming for flesh; in complete ignorance of all that went on in the outside world. To the right and left, the thick wall ran for unseen miles, large, thick and unyielding. It kept sanctuary.

  Chuck spun the rope around in the air as a lasso and with a mightily huge, sent it sailing over the wall. He tugged and it returned back down. He sent it again and this time it stayed stuck. He pulled it hard for good measure. It remained up there, trusted.

  “You go first,” Chuck said, turning to Tiny.

  “Why…” Tiny started to ask before Chuck interrupted.

  “I’m doing what I should’ve done since. Protect y’all. I’ve failed and I feel this could be my last opportunity to redeem myself of my mistakes. I want to make sure you’re up there first and safe. Besides, you have nothing to defend yourself with.” And he lifted his gun so Tiny could see what he meant.

  Tiny could’ve argued if he hadn’t heard the echoes of the undead splitting through the air where they stood. It was needless to object now. He quickly grabbed hold of the rope and hoisted himself upwards. Every second he got higher, the noises of the reanimated came ripping at their ears. They were getting closer, the zombies.

  Extremely precious time passed before Tiny reached the top. Chuck saw him disappear and then reappear, giving him the thumbs up sign that meant he was okay.

  It was his turn now. He grabbed the rope and started to pull himself up. As he lifted himself, he heard hundreds of rushing footfalls drawing closer. He disregarded them. Steve was safe. They were safe. He thought of Jack and Norma. Pain flooded him, more than the zombies could ever inflict him with.

  Once again he wished he’d changed things back then, that they were both up there beside Tiny. Life moved fast, in an undesired harmony with time. The moment one blinks, one doesn’t know where the next view may take them.

  Growls grew. He was going to be safe. He kept climbing. He looked down to see how much he’d distanced himself from the ground.

  All of a sudden, the rope became light. Or was he the one that became light? He felt emptied of weight. He looked up sharply and saw Tiny stretching his hands wide down the wall, like he’d failed to catch something bound to fall. And then he saw the hook sailing down, towards him. And then he understood right before the impact spun pain through his spine.

  The grim thud of his fall echoed in his ears. Concentric circles filled his vision. His head felt fuzzy. He heard his name, or was it is name? Was it a voice? It sounded very distant. A cold sensation intermixed with the pain. He sat up. The three-pronged hook was between his legs, tied to the rope. The part he was holding before the fall was still in his hands.

  He looked up. It’d fallen, with him too. Someone was up there. A dude. The person cupped his hands around his mouth to make a loudspeaker. Tiny! He tried to hear.

  “Coming!! Quick!”

  Coming? Why was he coming? Was he going to fall all the way down or something? And then his head became clear. He was supposed to be climbing. Tiny still had his hands around his mouth but he now removed it and pointed it at a distance behind him.

  He turned. Their undead calls alerted him. Their growls sounded like a cracked oratorio, played repeatedly much to distaste. The first of them
began to show up from the near distance. It looked like they were coming up from the ground.

  What the hell! He looked at the rope his fingers clutched and let it go. He pulled his Glock. He looked up. Tiny was still there. He made a salute sign at him with his weapon. He was never going to see him again. Or anyone else living for that matter. That wasn’t a problem. At least Tiny was safe. He’d fulfilled a responsibility. Good enough.

  He walked forward. About ten zombies were gunning for him now. He raised his weapon. As long as he was alive, he was going to take some of them down. He had two full magazines left and about thirteen rounds presently.

  He fired. One fell. Another tripped on the one that fell. The others continued, seemingly oblivious. More poured behind them. He fired again. Another fell. He kept firing till the gun produced a dry click. He removed the magazine, replaced it with a new one and continued. The more he fired, the closer they advanced

  He hadn’t finished when the first zombie, who’d looked like he’d been a weightlifter once pushed him over. He fell. The rest fell on him, scrambling wildly for a piece of him, shoving themselves like hungry, insatiable wolves.

  Hot saliva seared his flesh. Red eyes burnt into every fiber of his being. An excruciating pain sprang from his nether parts. He felt fat needles push into the skin of his thigh and then tear chunks out. His body trembled involuntarily. Tears rushed out of his eyes.

  He pulled the gun to his head. This way, he wasn’t going to become one of them. He sent a last look at the top of the wall. Tiny was still there, small in perspective, but still there and… was that his Camcorder? He felt a sensation travel through his nerves, an alien-ish sensation, spreading slowly, consuming. Another bite sent another more piercing pain into him.

  Ah, what the hell.

  He pulled the trigger.

  *****

  TINY pulled himself up on the wall and sat down to recover energy. Then he pushed his face over the edge and gave Chuck a thumbs-up. Chuck understood and began to make his way up the rope.

  Watching him climb, Tiny believed Chuck’s time was up. He no longer needed him. He was now disposable.

  Tiny’s mind went to two days ago. Chuck had come to meet him in his house uninvited, requesting his services as a cameraman. He’d been directed by someone he didn’t know. He had a proposal for a movie. He’d been all ears but he had them turned deaf the moment he heard it was going to take place in the land of the undead, only for him to once again be all ears when he heard about the numbers involved, about the gains, the proceeds, the profits they were going to make.

  Chuck’d introduced him to his friend Norma and associate Jack. Actually, Tiny knew Chuck’d probably met Jack prior to meeting him.

  They were all shareholders in the production of the movie. He however had the littlest share of the proceeds they were supposedly going to make.

  Their mission had been simple: spend life outside of the great wall, see life through death’s eyes; also gather some supplies, mostly as souvenirs of their escapades. It was going to be a big hit since Paris Hilton was found in bed with a zombie (which was actually a robot designed by some college pros).

  Ever since they crossed the wall, he’d been looking for a way to improvise to obtain a higher percentage of the proceeds. After hours of thinking, he’d just let himself go. Turned out that fate favored him. First, Norma and Jack had gotten into that needless argument that took Norma. Then Jack had also gotten into another needless argument with Chuck and that took him too.

  He despaired at first. He needed cover. He counted on Chuck for that and Chuck hadn’t let him down. They’d worked together to get to the wall. Chuck’d also agreed to let him get up first. Big mistake on his part.

  Naturally, he figured that since it was only the both of them left, then they ought to share the profits equally but he knew Chuck was entitled to higher and totally deserved it.

  So watching Chuck making his way up filled him with a new thought. He had the Camcorder and he had the film. He was a studio professional so yeah, what did he need Chuck for now? Nothing. So why not have it all? Yeah, why not.

  Beside him, the hook held the wall fast, its strong, sharp tentacles firmly in position. He looked down and saw Chuck almost halfway up. Chuck was looking down. He looked up and saw the undead coming, no, charging towards them. He looked down again. Chuck was still looking down.

  He seized that chance. He released the hook from the wall and pretentiously looked in horror as Chuck fell. It looked like he was in a daze because he tried calling to him and he responded very weakly. By the time Chuck finally came to, the zombies were metres from him, just as he’d wanted.

  He even alerted Chuck to their approach and when Chuck saw them, he felt resignation emanating from him. He dropped the rope, therefore damning his thoughts of escape and pulled out his gun.

  Tiny smothered a chuckle. He admired that bravado but really, there was nothing Chuck could do. He wanted to leave, something about conscience but he chose to stay. Then he noticed Chuck look up. He gave him a salute with his gun and fired at the first zombie.

  Quickly, Tiny turned on his Camcorder. This was going to be the best shot of the movie, even better than that of the weapons shop. Chuck kept firing. However they kept coming. Almost a hundred were coming from downtown, these blood-drenched, flesh-hungry things. Soon, they covered him and pulled him down. He caught the shot of Chuck as he raised the gun to his head. The gunshot ripped through the air. It even chilled him. The undead however simply kept feeding. He felt sorry for the guy.

  Satisfied with the shot, he turned off the Camcorder and hoisted it over his shoulder. He looked down and saw that some of the zombies had noticed him and were stretching their fleshless hands to him.

  He walked away from the edge, back towards the other end. A short journey.

  He smiled. His name was going to be on everyone’s lips. He’d ventured into the land of the undead and came back alive. He was going to be filthy rich. Yes, he was.

  ###

  “SO that was how I survived. Now I’ve told you the tale. You’ve seen it through my eyes. It isn’t funny out there, folks! I hope you really enjoyed this piece. I won’t be making another of it ever.”

  The lean, long-faced figure’s grim eyes haunted the camera before the screen turned black.

  This time the timer stopped. Max licked his lips, staring at it regretfully. He picked his cola can, shook it to confirm it was empty before flicking it softly.

  “Lame,” he said.

  Another rap landed on the door. It startled him. He stood. Time to give them a piece of his mind. He moved to the door, holding his torch. He unlocked the bolt, pulled the latch down and pulled the door open.

  A dark figure fell in through the doorway. It displayed shriveled fingers which wrapped around Max’s throat. A large, rotten head aimed at his throat, bloody mouth wide open. Red eyes glared hungrily at him. He struggled with the hands and pulled them off him.

  “Very funny, guys,” Max said.

  Mocking laughter followed. Two guys walked in behind the ‘zombie’. They were taller than him. The zombie also joined in the laughter. It was feminine.

  “What’s up, Max? What’ve you been up to?” One of the guys said. He had a large upper on a much slimmer lower body. He wore a scarf around his neck, over a woolen shirt and denim shorts. He walked in, rubbing his whitened palms together.

  “Nothing much, Will,” Max replied. “Dave, why’s Sandra dressed like that? Like it’s Wear your favorite zombie costume day.”

  “To see how much fear we could get out of you, silly,” Sandra replied, pulling the fake zombie head off hers. Max had to admit the stuff looked pretty convincing. Sandra’s wavy, auburn, shoulder-long hair poured out of the mask. She smiled through a fresh, smooth face that brought out her blue eyes. “I guess we didn’t do too well.”

  “It takes more than that to scare me.”

  “So what were you doing?” Dave asked. He looked the calmest of the t
hree. He was also the nerd amongst them, in everything electronics. He had a jacket on. He walked towards the TV set and picked the disc case up. The title was Death Through My Eyes, designed in blood. He recognized it the moment he saw it.

  “Hey, isn’t this the movie by that Steve Williamson guy?” Dave said.

  Max nodded. “Yeah. Kinda sucked. My opinion though.”

  “What’re you saying,” Will responded, “I think it was cool. The entire stuff was real. Those guys got guts. Pity only one returned.”

  “Guys,” Max said, “camerawork was very poor I tell you.”

  “Yeah, try filming while being chased by hundreds of monsters that want to feed on your flesh. The guy’s at the top of the chart for reality-horror and very much everything else.” Dave.

  “Enough, guys,” Sandra interrupted and timely too. “We’ve got to give them credit for the stuff they did. They showed us what’s really going on out there. Plus none of us can dare to go out and do the stuff they did.”

  And then the three of them started to stare at themselves in the awkward silence that followed. Unspoken messages floated around the room. They had the unity of an idea, they knew, and it was a mad, mad one. Sandra was the first to break the silence.

  “Please tell me you guys aren’t considering doing something similar too.”

  “Babe, you’re so filled with the most wonderful ideas,” Max said. “I’ll get in touch with a friend in STV who owes me a favor.”

  “And I’ll finance the project,” Will said. “We can knock that guy Steve off the chart. I like it!”

  “I’ll get equipments,” Dave said. “However, we don’t have a concept, a theme, or a mission. What will we be filming or doing out there?”

  “At least we can’t have an orgy, that’s for sure,” Sandra tittered and suddenly kept quiet when she noticed the others staring at her. Was that awe she saw in their eyes? Was that lust?

  “What marvelous ideas you have. Where do you get them, seriously?” Will said.

  “C’mon, seriously, we’ll be doing that?”

  “Sure.” Max said as he pulled his phone from the sofa. He dialed and turned to the others who stood there watching him.

  “C’mon guys, get to work. We’ll be shooting the movie.”

  ###