Chapter 3: Soldiers and Sheriffs

The third Chapter of this Zombie story where the main focus lies on Sheriff Goldberg and General Webley and a lot of Infected getting their heads shot off, of course. I mean what's a zombie story without the characters who play the main role: the zombies?

And... Get ready to get excited... umm... nothing actually. Enjoy!

Goldberg mowed down the Infected with his Thompson. When his machine gun was empty, he switched over to his revolver and gunned down another Infected.

Behind him, his deputy Mike was driving the Jeep and the four other guys were firing their guns at Infected walking around.

Goldberg fired his revolver again and saw, with a tiny feeling of satisfaction, that the Infected's head exploded and that the rest of the corpse was thrown back a metre or so.

He wanted to fire again, but when he pulled the trigger again, he heard nothing but the click of an empty gun.

He reloaded his revolver and his machine gun and continued his killing spree.

''Time to die!'' he screamed as he fired again.

Webley sat in his office in the Pentagon when President Kennedy came in again.

Webley, who was staring down at a list on his desk, didn't notice that someone had entered his office before Kennedy scraped his throat.

The general looked up and saw the president standing in front of him.

''Mr. President!'' he said, loudly, with a surprised voice.

''General Webley.'' Kennedy said. ''Have you issued my order, general?'' he asked.

''Yes, Mr. President!'' Webley said, his voice rising a bit.

''Good! Now get some things and come with me!'' Kennedy said.

''But, Mr. President...'' Webley said.

''Do you want to lose your job, general? I am giving you an order now!''

''The hordes of Infected have reached Washington D.C. Me, my family and my highest staff are going to leave the city. This party includes you, general. Gather what is most important to you and then we'll leave through the secret tunnel.''

''The tunnel? That only leads to somewhere in the street. That will probably not be safe?''

''Oh, but you're talking about the official tunnel, general. Come with me'' Kennedy gestured at Webley to follow him.

Webley stood up. ''Mr. President?'' he started.

''Yes, general?'' Kennedy asked.

''Where are we going, Mr. President?'' Webley asked.

''We're going to Texas... To Home Army Base. Now follow me.'' Kennedy walked out of the room, followed by Webley.

Old Man Hudson was sitting in his chair in front of his small cabin, just outside of Hounslow.

He was sixty-eight years old and had seen Hounslow when it had just been the Cooper Ranch and two or three other houses, including his father's.

He had grown up in the small community and had helped with it's expansion in the early 1910's.

Now, he was just an old, depleted man and the only thing he could do now, was sitting in front of his cabin, his walking cane in his left hand and a beer bottle in his right.

Just as always, Hudson had woken up early in the morning, around 4 A.M. And he had taken a beer and went to his favourite spot. The chair on his porch.

There he sat, sipping his beer, when something caught his eye. Something moved to his right.

He turned his head and saw that the bushes beside his house were moving and shaking.

He stood up from his chair, putting his beer on the small wooden crate next to his chair.

Hudson took his cane in his hand and slowly started making his way to the bushes.

He approached the shaking bush with a nervous feeling in his gut.

The shaking stopped and suddenly something jumped out.

Hudson raised his cane and was about to bash the thing that jumped out before realizing that standing before him, was a small fox, sniffing at the ground.

Hudson let out a sigh of relief and turned around.

He felt his heart jump again when he saw a man slowly making his way towards Hudson.

He recovered and exchanged the look of surprise that he knew he had, for one of grumpiness and curiosity.

''Howdy.'' he said.

The man said nothing, but continued limping towards Hudson.

Hudson took a small step back.

''What are you doing here?'' Hudson asked.

No answer except for some grunting and growling.

The man took another step.

Hudson now raised his cane.

''State what the hell you're doing here or get from my lawn!'' he shouted, trying to sound confident.

The man took another step towards Hudson.

''Can't you listen?'' Hudson said, taking a better look at the man.

He looked young, twentyish or maybe thirty.

The guy wore a white T-shirt which was a bit dirty.

He was limping and seemed to be sick.

''Get away, you damn idiot!'' Hudson said, angry now.

The man before him seemed to hear Hudson's tone and hesitated.

''Oh, I get it!'' Hudson said. ''You want to rob an old, harmless man! Well, you chose the wrong person to shake down, you bastard. I served in France during the first World War.''

Hudson now charged at the man and started pounding and bashing the man with his walking cane, driving the guy a bit backwards.

The man raised his hands in defence and backed off.

Hudson continued hitting the man with his cane and started yelling. ''GET FROM MY LAWN!''

The guy backed off and turned around, slowly walking away.

Hudson lowered his cane and sighed.

He was panting a bit now and held one hand to his chest.

He looked at the guy who was now walking away.

''What the hell was that?'' he asked himself.

Then he shrugged his shoulders and turned around when he heard grunting.

He turned his head and a feeling of horror made itself master of him.

Behind him, he saw the same guy which he had beaten with his cane earlier, although this time, a group followed the guy.

''Son of a-'' Hudson started as the group started making it's way towards him.

Some of the people, walked slowly, others ran a bit clumsily and staggered around a bit.

Hudson turned around again and hobbled back to his cabin as fast as he could.

He reached his porch when he felt a hand grab the back of his shirt.

When he turned around and stared in the eyes of an elderly woman.

He screamed as the woman sank her teeth in his shoulder.

Hudson swung his foot in her stomach and tried to free himself of her grasp.

He got up, still holding on to his cane and holding his other hand on his shoulder. ''Son of a bitch!'' He shouted as he turned around again and grabbed the door knob of the door. He opened the door and stepped inside his shack, closing the door behind him. He sat down against the door, breathing heavily. Hudson could hear the group of people thumping against the door.

He cursed. ''What the hell is going on?'' he asked himself.

The thumping became louder and little cracks started appearing in the wooden door.

''Oh Damn!'' Hudson said.

He stood up and backed away from the door.

''Dammit!'' he said to himself as the cracks began growing bigger.

The wound in his shoulder really hurt and blood was pouring over his shoulder.

He looked around and saw something sticking out from under the small cabinet that stood against the wall next to his bed.

He looked and realized what was lying there.

It was his M1903 Springfield rifle. The rifle which he had had during his service in France. The gun he had plucked out of the hands of a dying French soldier after Hudson had lost his own.

Another crack appeared on the door.

Hudson hurried to his gun, ignoring the wound in his shoulder.

He picked it up and checked the magazine.

The gun was still loaded.

He held it in his right hand, while his left opened the upper drawer of the cabinet and started searching it.

After a few seconds, he found what he was looking for. He grabbed the item and took it out of the drawer.

It was a box of ammunition for his rifle.

Hudson took up position in front of the door which was about to break down and raised his rifle.

He put the rifle rounds next to him on the table that stood in the middle of the cabin and took aim at the door.

With a loud cracking sound, the door broke down and a figure stepped inside.

Hudson pulled the trigger.

The figure fell down against the wall and grunted loudly.

''You want some, you bastard!'' Hudson shouted as he pulled back the bolt and fired again.

The bullet hit the man's head and left a large hole in it, blood splattered against the wall of Hudson's cabin.

Another man came in, stepped past the body of the first intruder and went for Hudson.

Hudson fired a shot at the man and saw the guy being thrown backwards by the bullet, colliding with the woman that stepped over the body behind him.

He pulled back the bolt again and aimed at the woman.

He pulled the trigger, but coughed when he fired, causing the gun to jump down and send the bullet to the woman's leg instead of her chest.

The woman fell down on the wooden planks with a loud thump.

Hudson fired his last shot at the crowd of people that stood in the door opening.

Quickly, he grabbed the box of rounds and took out another clip, ejecting the empty one and cramming the full one in.

He pulled the bolt and fired.

He wanted to fire a second shot, when he felt a stinging pain in his leg.

He looked down and saw the woman that had bitten him earlier and that he had shot in the leg had bitten him in his leg.

He bashed her in the face with the butt end of his rifle.

The woman screamed and Hudson started screaming too.

He put the rifle to her head and pulled the trigger.

Nothing happened.

''Oh shit...'' Hudson said when a voice shouted from outside.

''Hudson, you in there?'' the voice asked.

''Yes! HELP!'' Hudson answered.

''Get down!'' the voice said.

Hudson didn't hesitate and dropped himself on the floor, holding his hands on his head.

An instant later, an explosion of gunfire came from outside.

Rifles, shotguns, pistols, Hudson could even hear a machine gun firing.

He looked up and saw that the people were torn apart by gun bullets.

Most were falling down and screaming loudly.

Hudson kept lying on the ground, until the firing stopped.

''Hudson, you still alive?'' the voice asked.

''Yeah, I'm coming out!'' Hudson answered.

He stood up and started making his way to the door, pushing away and stepping on men and women that were lying or crawling around.

A man tried to grab him, but Hudson bashed the guy with his rifle.

He ran outside, waving around his hands in the air to notify the people of his presence.

When he took a good look, he saw that Sheriff Goldberg stood there, holding a Thompson in his hands.

''What's going on, sheriff?'' Hudson asked.

''I don't know exactly, but what I know is that those... people, things... whatever the heck they are, are trying to kill us and I ain't gonna let 'em.'' Goldberg said firmly.

''You okay, Hudson? Looks like they got you pretty badly.'' Goldberg asked.

''I'm fine. A few bandages around it would be okay, though.'' Hudson said.

''Climb in the jeep, then. Mike'll get you to the doctor.''

Hudson stepped towards the jeep, limping a bit.

He climbed in and sat down in one of the back seats.

''One more thing, Hudson? How committed are you to your cabin?'' Goldberg asked.

''What'd you mean, sheriff?'' Hudson asked.

''Well... there's a lot of infected in there... so maybe.'' Goldberg said, while he took something tube-shaped in his hands.

''Wait, what are you- Oh... I see what you wanna do! Well, my cabin's lost anyway.'' Hudson said, looking at the small wooden hut.

Goldberg nodded and raised the tube.

A moment later there was a thumping sound and another instant later, and Hudson's cabin exploded.

Hudson sighed and lowered is head a bit. ''Well, at least those fuckers are gone too!'' he said.

Mike ignited the engine and drove the jeep away from the burning wreckage.

The large group of vigilantes were standing in a half circle around the cabin, watching the fire.

Goldberg watched the jeep drive away. He sighed.

''Well...'' he started. ''We'd better get back to town.'' he said.

He gave the grenade launcher that he had held in his hands to the guy next to him.

''Let's go. It'll be at least another hour back to town.''

The other men nodded silently and the group started walking back to town.

Davies had been sitting in the armoured car for a while. It was pretty hot in the car and most soldiers were sitting, trying to do as little as possible.

Hayes was sitting in the passengers seat in the front, looking through the bulletproof window.

''Well... fuck!'' Hayes said.

Davies ignored his lieutenant and sat staring down on the floor of the car.

''We almost there?'' One of the soldiers asked.

''Oh, there's a sign.'' the driver said.

A few seconds later he said. ''Hounslow is 2 miles down the road.''

''Almost there.'' Davies said.

Time passed by slowly as they drove the last two miles to town.

They just drove over a hill when the driver gave a yell of surprise.

''There's a jeep in front of us.''

''Well, get it to pull over!'' Hayes said.

The driver sounded the horn.

Slowly the jeep stopped.

The soldiers stopped next to the jeep and Hayes stepped out of the car.

''Hey mister... Who are you?'' Hayes asked.

''I'm Mike Hardin. I'm the Deputy in Hounslow.'' the driver of the jeep answered.

''Hey!'' one of the soldiers in the car shouted as he climbed out.

''Mike!'' the guy stepped out of the jeep and walked up to the soldier.

''Damn, George, what are you doing here?'' Mike asked.

''Well, I was at one of the roadblocks on the highway, but we got overrun. We were just going to look for you in Hounslow.''

''Really?'' Mike asked. ''What for?''

''Well, we'd like a place to stay for the night or so, until we can think about what the hell is going on y'know.'' George said.

''Well, you can stay at my house, but I can use your help too. There still a lot of infected roaming 'round town.''

George turned his head and looked at Hayes who nodded his head.

''Well, I guess we can help out.'' George answered.

''Thanks man. Appreciate it.'' Mike said.

''Let's go, then.'' Hayes said, when a grunting sound came from the jeep.

All looked at the jeep and saw that an old man was trying to climb out, grunting and moaning.

''Hudson, you okay?'' Mike asked.

Hudson grunted and moaned, still trying to climb out of the jeep.

''Fuck, he's infected. Guess I gotta...'' Mike didn't finish his sentence, but pulled out his revolver.

''I'm sorry, Hudson, old man. I really am.'' Mike said as he pulled the trigger.

The bullet flew through Hudson's head, taking some brain tissue with it.

The now dead Hudson fell forwards against on the back seat of the jeep.

''Damn...'' George said.

Davies, who had followed the scene with interest also climbed out of the car now and walked towards the corpse of Hudson.

''Well...'' Hayes started. ''We'd better get to town.''

''Guess so...'' Mike said.

The soldiers all climbed into the car and Mike got back in the jeep.

The jeep, followed by the car, slowly drove towards Hounslow.

Webley followed the President through the halls of Pentagon. They walked past all the offices and Webley saw lots of men running around.

Two Secret Service guys were accompanying them as they walked through the Pentagon.

They reached a helipad and approached the helicopter that stood there, ready to fly away.

The door slid open and the face of a soldier appeared.

''Quick! They're coming.'' he said, pointing at something behind the four.

Webley turned his head and saw an infected coming up behind the President.

He took his pistol out of it's holster and aimed. He fired two shots, both hitting the infected in the head.

Behind him, he could hear screams and then the sound of an M16 going off.

He turned around again and saw the two Secret Service guys being grabbed and bitten and the soldier firing his bullets into the flock of infected.

''Quick, Mr. President. Get in the helicopter.'' the soldier said as he reloaded his rifle and started firing again.

Kennedy ran towards the helicopter, followed by Webley who emptied his gun at the infected and reloaded.

A hand grabbed Kennedy's shoulder and a mouth bit him in the shoulder.

Davies reloaded his rifle and started firing again. He, the other soldiers and the Deputy had reached Hounslow and were busy killing all the infected around town now.

''Oh God!'' he heard someone screaming behind him.

He turned around, just to see an infected trying to bite a soldier in his chest. The soldier was desperately trying to hold off the infected man.

As quick as he could, Davies raised his rifle and pulled the trigger.

The Infected's shoulder splattered on the soldier's face.

Davies fired again and managed to shoot the Infected in the leg.

The man fell on the ground and the soldier raised his foot and dropped it down on the Infected.

The Infected screamed as the foot stomped down again.

The soldier stomped his boot on the Infected's head a few more times until it stopped screaming.

''Thanks, man...'' the soldier said, still puffing.

Davies just nodded. He was too busy bashing in the head of a Infected that had tried to creep up from behind him.

The helicopter razed forward through the early morning sky.

The President lay inside, bleeding heavily out of the bite wound in his shoulder.

A medic was pouring alcohol over the wound and was trying to stop the bleeding with pieces of cloth which was about as effective as trying to empty a large pond with a teaspoon.

Webley stood a little bit away from the doctors trying to save the President.

He thought about all that had happened and all that he had seen on the screens. How the infected areas became bigger and most of the roadblocks were being overrun. By now, people should see Infected in military uniforms walking around.

Behind him, he heard the medics rapidly talk as they bandaged the President.

He turned around and asked: ''Is he going to make it?''

The medic looked up, but said nothing. Slowly, he shrugged.

''I don't know.''

Webley nodded and turned around again.

''Goddammit.'' John cursed.

It was dawning now and Patterson still hadn't returned yet.

John had just woken up and had walked in the living room where he had encountered a crying Mrs. Patterson.

''Vernon is still gone.'' was all she could bring out.

John was now looking through the window, glancing past the curtains.

The coast was clear outside.

''Dammit, Patterson.'' John grumbled. Then, looking at the softly crying Mrs. Patterson, he said: ''Let's go look for him.''

Mrs. Patterson looked up at John.

John looked her in the eyes for a moment and then glanced back past the curtains.

''It seems safe. I'm gonna wake Dan.'' he said.

He walked through the living room, towards the door, behind which his son was sleeping. Or so he thought.

John knocked on the door. ''Rise and shine, Dan.''

No answer.

John knocked again, a bit harder this time.

''Wake up, Dan.'' he said, loudly.

He knocked one more time before opening the door and stepping inside his son's room.

''Dan, wa...'' he stopped when he saw the empty bed of his son. ''What the...?''

He stepped outside the room again.

''Goddammit.'' he muttered again.

''What is it?'' Mrs. Patterson asked.

''Dan's gone.'' John answered. ''I'll have to go look for him. I can't come with you.'' he added.

Martha nodded slowly but firmly. ''I'll go alone then.''

''You can handle a gun, right? John asked.

''Vernon and I met on the shooting range.'' was Martha's answer.

John walked into Dan's room again and came out a few moments later, holding Dan's revolver in his hand.

He tossed it to Martha who caught it and checked if it was loaded.

''Come back here when you found him, Martha.'' John said.

Martha held the revolver firmly in her hands and stood up.

Together they walked to the front door.

John opened the door and stepped outside in the fresh night air.

He took a big breath and looked down.

The ground was a bit wet and he could clearly see the footprints of naked feet going down the yard and onto the road, leading away.

He started following the footprints, looking back once more at Martha. She was closing the door behind her and looked back.

John turned around again and walked further, every now and then looking at the footprints.

Goldberg gestured at a few nearby farms and ranch houses. Half an hour earlier they had left Hounslow and had went for a few farms just outside the city. ''Might be some more in there'' he said.

Some of the others nodded in acknowledgment while others just stared at the small mass of buildings in front of the group.

''Let's go!'' Goldberg said loudly as he increased his pace.

He walked across the highway he had sometimes seen in his dreams. In his dreams he had always driven over it in a car. Sometimes driven by another man, sometimes driving himself.

But now, now he was walking over it himself, awake, not sleeping. Fully in control of himself.

He leaned on the railing a bit for he was a bit wobbly. He didn't know why for sure, but he didn't care. He was awake!

Webley looked out of the small window at the side of the helicopter. He turned his head and looked at Kennedy who was still bleeding out of the wound in his shoulder. The medics were refreshing the bandages but it was no good.

Webley took a deep breath and said: ''He isn't going to make it.''

One of the medics looked up. The other one ignored him and continued to refresh the bandage.

''Why do you think that?'' the first medic asked.

''Look at him. You, I, we all know that he isn't going to survive. And you probably heard by now what being bitten by an Infected means.''

''He'll survive. Just- we just...'' the second medic said suddenly.

Webley slid open the door of the helicopter, exposing the four people to the fresh morning air.

He drew his pistol. ''We all know what needs to be done.'' he said.

John Smith always kept thinking about why his parents had called him like they had. Whenever he had to give up his name, nobody would ever believe him.

He had been born in Atlanta, Georgia, and had grown up there.

When he had reached the of 18, he had signed up for the army.

After a while, his ability to make friends in the right places had gotten him a promotion as Sergeant and later as a bodyguard of the President. He had been trained and indoctrinated to jump in front of the bullet. He had been taught to be ruthless against all enemies of the great United States of America and to strike down at all enemies, especially Communists. And this man, who had executed at least five alleged Soviet Spies and who had prevented countless assassination attempts at multiple Presidents of The United States, killing a lot of assassins in the process, would just come home at six o'clock in the evening, would kiss his one-year-old on the forehead and his wife on the cheek while just being in time for dinner to be ready. Now, he was flying a helicopter, headed for a secret army base in Texas, deserting his wife and son in the suburbs of Washington D.C.

He was looking through the windshield at the upcoming sun. Thank God for sunglasses, he thought.

The sun was slowly rising and a few minutes later half of it was already above the horizon, bathing the hills underneath the helicopter in a red light.

Smith almost nodded off when the loud crack of a gunshot woke him up.

He stood up and walked towards the sliding door.

He slid it open and looked at the scene that was occurring in the the helicopter.

President Kennedy was lying on the floor, still heavily bleeding out of his shoulder.

Webley stood at the side of the helicopter, bleeding out of a wound in his shoulder, holding a raised pistol in his hands.

Suddenly, he staggered a bit and then fell backwards, out of the helicopter.

Webley fell. It seemed to him that he that everything happened in slow-motion. He slowly saw the helicopter fly away.

That moment, he hit something. Something that felt hard for a moment, but then broke open underneath him and sucked him in, surrounding him. The river dragged him along.

End of Chapter 3

That's it for the third chapter. Let me know what you think. All feedback is welcome. Just try to keep out the curse words.