to me. The more I see and do the more I wonder if it is truly worth it – too late now I suppose. Anyway, I’ve decided to call #4 Lazarus. We are currently looking into why and how he managed to survive the LNV infection.
For now, Marcus out…
Chapter 10
October 2, 2015
Huntington Field
Marengo County, AL
The mechanic ran full tilt back toward the tower from which he had come. He was surprisingly fast for a man his size. After a moment of confused indecision, John ran after him despite being unsure of what exactly he was running from. As he neared the building, the mechanic motioned wildly for him to hurry. The second John cleared the doorframe, the mechanic leaned out, peering from side to side as though he was expecting someone else to join them. Satisfied, the mechanic quietly closed the heavy metal security door. The mechanical click of the lock engaging sounded like a gunshot in the confined space. The mechanic then proceeded to maneuver a long section of metal pipe through the door handle and past both sides of the doorframe to further bolster the already formidable barricade. No one was getting through that door without the assistance of a bulldozer or a block of C4, John thought. Still, the man continued to fortify the entrance, moving several large tool cabinets in front of the door as though he was concerned someone might actually show up with a bulldozer or high power explosives. Despite the substantial weight of the toolboxes, the man did not even strain as he guided them into position. As soon as he was satisfied with the barrier he turned to John, and with an unreadable expression that simultaneously projected genuine concern, unchecked fear, and unadulterated rage, he said, “Did he get you?”
John stared back blankly as if the mechanic had spoken to him in a rarely used dialect of Swahili.
“Did he get you, man ? Hasker, did he get you?” asked the mechanic with rising volume that mirrored the intense emotions now visibly etched upon his face. The concern seemed to be losing ground to the fear and rage as his voice took on a noticeably dark tone. John could not help but notice the length of steel pipe he brandished in a tightening grip, leaving little to the imagination about the intentions behind the menacing weapon.
John started to speak but was cut off as the large man suddenly bounded forward.
The man bellowed, “Did…he…bite… yo u? ” The pipe that had been hanging uncertainly at the man’s side was now poised with its teeth bared begging for permission to unleash the raw fury contained within it.
Thoroughly befuddled and more than a little frightened, John stammered, “Bite me? No, why would he…?” The mechanic began to ease back almost immediately at his words. Sensing the change, John said, “What the hell is going on?”
“Name’s Reams Wilkins. I know I’ve seen you around here before, but I don’t believe we’ve met. I’m really sorry about your arm, shit was just crazy out there and, well, you know. I’m sure as hell glad he didn’t get you though. You are the first normal person I’ve seen in two days. Man, I’m no killer but the shit I’ve seen and done in the last few days…I’m just glad to find someone else alive and not…well, whatever the hell they are. As for what is going on? Your guess is as good as mine. Well, maybe not, judging by how you damn near served yourself to old man Hasker on a platter like a stuffed turkey on Thanksgiving.”
Still thoroughly addled, John managed only a blank stare.
Sensing that John had nothing to add to the conversation at this point, Reams continued, “Look, I’m no scientist, and I have no idea what or why in the hell any of this is happening, but these people – at least everyone I’ve seen in the last few days aside from you – they are all sick or dead now. It’s like nothing I’ve ever seen or even imagined. They are like rabid
For now, Marcus out…
Chapter 10
October 2, 2015
Huntington Field
Marengo County, AL
The mechanic ran full tilt back toward the tower from which he had come. He was surprisingly fast for a man his size. After a moment of confused indecision, John ran after him despite being unsure of what exactly he was running from. As he neared the building, the mechanic motioned wildly for him to hurry. The second John cleared the doorframe, the mechanic leaned out, peering from side to side as though he was expecting someone else to join them. Satisfied, the mechanic quietly closed the heavy metal security door. The mechanical click of the lock engaging sounded like a gunshot in the confined space. The mechanic then proceeded to maneuver a long section of metal pipe through the door handle and past both sides of the doorframe to further bolster the already formidable barricade. No one was getting through that door without the assistance of a bulldozer or a block of C4, John thought. Still, the man continued to fortify the entrance, moving several large tool cabinets in front of the door as though he was concerned someone might actually show up with a bulldozer or high power explosives. Despite the substantial weight of the toolboxes, the man did not even strain as he guided them into position. As soon as he was satisfied with the barrier he turned to John, and with an unreadable expression that simultaneously projected genuine concern, unchecked fear, and unadulterated rage, he said, “Did he get you?”
John stared back blankly as if the mechanic had spoken to him in a rarely used dialect of Swahili.
“Did he get you, man ? Hasker, did he get you?” asked the mechanic with rising volume that mirrored the intense emotions now visibly etched upon his face. The concern seemed to be losing ground to the fear and rage as his voice took on a noticeably dark tone. John could not help but notice the length of steel pipe he brandished in a tightening grip, leaving little to the imagination about the intentions behind the menacing weapon.
John started to speak but was cut off as the large man suddenly bounded forward.
The man bellowed, “Did…he…bite… yo u? ” The pipe that had been hanging uncertainly at the man’s side was now poised with its teeth bared begging for permission to unleash the raw fury contained within it.
Thoroughly befuddled and more than a little frightened, John stammered, “Bite me? No, why would he…?” The mechanic began to ease back almost immediately at his words. Sensing the change, John said, “What the hell is going on?”
“Name’s Reams Wilkins. I know I’ve seen you around here before, but I don’t believe we’ve met. I’m really sorry about your arm, shit was just crazy out there and, well, you know. I’m sure as hell glad he didn’t get you though. You are the first normal person I’ve seen in two days. Man, I’m no killer but the shit I’ve seen and done in the last few days…I’m just glad to find someone else alive and not…well, whatever the hell they are. As for what is going on? Your guess is as good as mine. Well, maybe not, judging by how you damn near served yourself to old man Hasker on a platter like a stuffed turkey on Thanksgiving.”
Still thoroughly addled, John managed only a blank stare.
Sensing that John had nothing to add to the conversation at this point, Reams continued, “Look, I’m no scientist, and I have no idea what or why in the hell any of this is happening, but these people – at least everyone I’ve seen in the last few days aside from you – they are all sick or dead now. It’s like nothing I’ve ever seen or even imagined. They are like rabid
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