Nerd Lives

Another week, another chapter… enjoy!

Screams filled the airport bar, but not screams of sadness. The scream were distinctly screams of fear. Winny turned from the TV to the terminal. He feared that the yellow nerve agent had now reached the airport and that some open window or walkway allowed the gas to enter the terminal. He was wrong, but not entirely wrong. The gas was not evident, but something told him that what he was seeing was connected to the gas.

People were running through the terminal being followed by creatures that appeared to be decaying humans. Someone in the bar screamed out, “Zombies, holy shit! Zombies!” and the screams of everyone around grew louder. The bartender, a buxom young blonde, ran to the bar entrance and pulled down the chain gate that was meant for when the bar closed for a few hours in the morning to clean up and restock. One of the male patrons helped her lock it down. The people in the bar were safe for now, but they had no choice but to watch the hysteria outside the gate.

People started to trip over one another and suddenly the creatures, though very slow moving, caught up to some of the people on the ground. One creature walked up to a young man whom appeared to be in his twenties. The young man was holding his knee as if he had hurt it somehow. The creature grabbed the young man’s leg and before the man could wriggle free, the creature sunk its teeth into his calf.

Everyone is the bar gasped and several people ran to the back of the room. Amidst the growing fear and the people growing sick, Winny grabbed his gun and quickly strolled to the gate. His inner cop taking charge, he pointed the gun at the creature and shot it in the head. As it fell to the ground, Winny pointed his gun at another creature nearing the young man and shot it directly in its head, as well. And another. And another. Luckily for this young man, Winny was a great shot, the winner of the best shot award for almost 20 years at the local competition. He continued to pick the human-like beasts off one by one until he cleared the way. When the coast finally seemed a bit clearer, Winny rolled the gate up with the bartender’s help and ran to the man, bending over him. He looked to each side and saw that he has creatures closing in from both sides. Gaining strength he was unsure he had, he picked the young man up and threw the man over his shoulder. He ran back to the bar, where the bartender threw the gate back open to let them in and slammed it furiously behind them as the two reentered the safe zone.

The crowd began to cheer and congratulate Winny, who had no intention of accepting this man’s life as a win. Though he was glad to have saved this poor, young man from the evil that lurked outside the metal gate, he was not going to rest. He knew that this was to be an uphill battle and, whatever they were, these beasts had to be destroyed. He rallied several of the patrons to him, as if to instruct them on what to do.

“You two, pick up Mr. uhhh… what’s you name?” Winny paused.

The man he had saved replied, “Tyson.”

“Well, like I said, you guys pick Tyson up and get him seated. Someone else grab him a drink… uhhh, ok, so we are not going to just be fine by sitting here until those things give up. My guess is that they will demonstrate quite a bit of perseverance.”

“How’d you get that in?” an older woman asked pointing to his gun. He explained to the crowd gathering around him that he was an officer with the Philadelphia PD and was going to be checking it in at the airport precinct before boarding, but did not want to leave it home. An odd explanation to some, no one seemed to question much once they realized that it may save their lives.

He continued, “A few of you help our lovely bartender to grab some of the liquor bottles that seem like they’d be able to be thrown accurately. I have a few ideas about how to create some weapons and, perhaps more importantly, some distractions.” A few of the people eagerly volunteered and headed back behind the bar with the bartender. Winny paused and wiped the sweat from his brow. Winny always started to sweat when his adrenaline started pumping. He closed his eyes for a moment and reopened them to find the crowd still looking to him for direction. He then addressed them, “These creatures… these…”

“Zombies!” a nerdy looking twentysomething named Mark interrupted. The crowd, Winny included, turned towards the tall, lanky nerd. “These things are zombies… I know it sounds crazy, but just look at them. They were obviously human, but something has taken them over. They look dead and decayed, but they are walking and attacking people… and eating people. Zombies eat people, right?” The crowd started mulling over the idea. Everyone was surprisingly in agreement that these things were just like the zombies they’d seen in movies. Mark looked to Winny, then continued, “Trauma to the head is the traditional way to kill a zombie in movies, right? Well it seems to be working when you shoot them in the head, so let’s assume that’s right… what else can we use to hit them in the head, officer?”

Winny fed off the young man’s enthusiasm and thought aloud, “Well, we can use the bottles they are grabbing to creating explosions by using soaked rags and lighting them on fire. It will create diversions at very least. Maybe the legs on the barstools and chairs can be used as weapons, too.” Winny’s adrenaline was flowing as he began to think of the action, the action that drove him to want to be an officer that he rarely saw nowadays. “What did you have in mind?” Winny inquired to Mark.

Mark was way ahead of him by the time Winny asked. Mark took his advice and already began breaking legs off of tables. Several others joined in and they began handing the makeshift wooden clubs to nearly everyone in the room. Still others were searching the airport bar for any other weapons they could find. A man in the back of the room pulled out a gun and pointed it directly at the creatures outside the gate. Several in the room wondered why he had the gun and how he got it into the airport.

The man noticed several people staring at him at he walked towards the gate still point his gun. After picking off three of the zombies, he turned back to the others. “The name is Gray, I am a federal air marshal. I just finished my shift, got changed, and came here for a few drinks. That should just about answer it.” Marshall Dan Gray was a relatively approachable looking man, nothing really intimidating about him. He was about 5’8” with a small build, with a light mocha-like complexion. He worse an Eagles hat, a khaki trenchcoat, and Adidas workout pants.

Gray looked at Winny and they both nodded. Winny turned back to the group and asked if everyone was ready. After an unenthusiastic reply, he looked around and then took a deep breath.

“Listen up, everyone!” Winny began. “I can’t make you come out of this bar and God knows I won’t try. What I can do is tell you that I think our best chances of surviving this mess are gathering together anyone else who survived and sticking together. If we wait out the creatures, they won’t just go away… they will grow. The 50 of them out there in that terminal will be 150, then 500… who knows when or even if it will stop. If you want to stay here and wait it out, that’s up to you. But I know that I am a damn good shot and it looks like Marshall Gray here is too. We’ll cover everyone we can and everyone can make their way to the nearest exit. That yellow stuff isn’t outside anymore, we’d see it from the windows. And once we gather whoever is left, getting outside is best. There is a lot more space. In here, we’ll be cornered and no one can help. Out there we can find some help. The cops can help us and probably the military too, soon. So, if you are with us, let’s go. After we get out, anyone staying behind can lock themselves in and wait it out. Once I find some reinforcements, I’ll come back looking for you if I can. But I still think you are better off coming with us. I’ll give you a minute and we’re heading out.”

After a minute of murmuring and tough decisions, Winny popped open the gate and about half of the 30 or so people in the bar followed. Winny, Gary, Mark, and 12 others started making their way out of the terminal. Mark led the charges swinging a table leg in each hand, as they approached a cluster of 25 to 30 of the zombies. Only a few yards from the herd, the zombies finally turned towards the troop of marauders. Winny and Gray stopped up and began shooting.

Bullets whizzed by the others’ heads and directly into the heads of the zombies. One… two… four… eight… next thing you knew, nearly the whole group of zombies had been picked off. As Winny and Gray reloaded, Mark got his first taste. He ran to a man lying on the floor being eaten by two of the creature and smashed them both simultaneously in their skulls. Blood and yellow-green liquid spurted out as they collapsed to the floor, covering Mark head to toe. His expression grew angrier as he dropped on the table legs and gripped both hands on the other. One of the zombies, apparently affected by the destruction of the two that now lay on the floor headless, approached Mark in its slow lethargic manner. Mark pulled back the leg behind hit, as if a hitter in a baseball game. He planted his feet, looked back towards the others, all staring in awe, and swung the club. The club struck the zombies just below the chin, knocking the head clear across the hall a solid 75 feet.

Winny and Gray ran to Mark and signaled the others to follow. Mark’s glorious zombie hunting seemed to enthuse the others, as they all smashed the remaining creatures in that first cluster. As more creatures ahead of them began to notice the group coming towards them, the zombie hunters ran towards them at full speed, swinging all the way. Heads, arms, and torsos flew everywhere, and the group was soon entirely covered in red, yellow, and green goo. Winny and Gray saddled their pieces, knowing the bullets could be conserved, at least for now.

Fear was replaced by adrenaline. A group that once was colored with fear, now seemed to be a troop of efficient zombie killers. The blood on their faces and clothing served only as war paint. Their yells and screams were war cries. Stepping into a small newsstand, the group shut the metal gate and took a breather, but not before killing at least another dozen zombies a piece. The terminal hallway was relatively clear of the beasts for now. Though relieved that less of the zombies were there than before, the hunters all seemed to be having fun swinging their sticks and killing the evil sons of bitches. While everyone caught their breath, the looks on their faces were nothing short of enthusiastic and pumped up. None of them seemed too worn and none even showed the smallest signs of being scared. Looking back at it, it was a good thing they were having the time of their lives… the worst of it was yet to come.