Chapter 9: Ian, Chapter 10: DI Miller

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Chapter 9: Ian

 

Time was running out. Time was so running out. If he didn’t do it perfectly all his decade’s work would be wasted, and the world would be an empty husk of ghosts. Ian kicks at his chair, trying to figure out something. Anything. Just think! He couldn’t figure out where Jaclyn could be. If he didn’t figure it out, he will be dead, and it wasn’t his life that was important, it would be his work. Blasted Drake wouldn’t know what to press or what to control. Hell, he could even get himself killed, though the odds were against it. Ian smashes the chair against the wall now, trying to get his brain working. If Jaclyn started south, at the restaurant… Ian smashes the chair into little pieces now, trying to make his brain work. If she took out Vedder, then the police came, she would have fled by now? Right? With Yates of course, but where? Ian didn’t know the layout of the restaurant, but would she have gone east? Jaclyn would be smart about it though, so she would have… Ian loses his train of thought, then grunts. He runs his hands through his hair, trying to think. He came up empty, only knowing she fled the scene after the fight. Yates was with her too, and it disgusted Ian. He would get them, snatching them up like little children. It would be that easy. Ian smiles to himself, even though every little information he received was going to rip him apart. Drake would get to him first though, and if she was lucky Jaclyn would come if he didn’t find her first. He was basically bait hanging on a meat hook. That made him angry, thinking the possibility of how Jaclyn could finish him off. He was being hunted, and if not being used by Drake.

There was a knock, saving Ian from his mind. He strides over and opens it, seeing Drake there. He looked nervous, and that was a rare sight from him. “Come see this,” He motions, and Ian follows him, leaving the lights on in his cold office.

 

Chapter 10: Miller

DI Miller traveled a full day. Den came with him, not saying much besides when they ran into danger. It was a madhouse out there, and Miller got his first taste of what it was like out there. It was like hell did a little visit to earth. Blood everywhere, deceased bodies lying eaten on the ground, and those freaks. With bloody mouths, chunks of human flesh stuck in teeth, and their distinguishing black eyes. But what caused it all? Sure DI Miller was scared out of his mind, but there has to be some type of cause like any zombie movie. A virus? No, the news never had any sort of sickness flying around continents, but Miller thought about how it could have spread so quickly no one ever saw it. It could be something else too.

Miller traveled west, doing several loops around the city limits to avoid trouble. Along the way there were gas station, and Miller raided them with Den, gun raised every moment. They got lucky too, one of the gas stations not even raided and abandoned. Miller was tired from the start, but he kept pushing on. Den was quiet, sulking about Ren. He must be taking her loss hard, especially after he had to kill her. Miller learned a lot from the journey. Don’t talk to anyone, don’t die, and don’t get bitten. When Miller was approaching the city outskirts, he saw a pregnant lady running to a man; it didn’t work out too well. The man shot her and she bled to death like a fish out of water. It was bad, but what could he do? Go out and help with hundreds of people rampaging and not even knowing who to shoot? Miller guessed against it, and trudged on, trying not to look at the blood and gnawed off limbs. Someone’s skull was bashed against the sidewalk too. It gave him shivers, but it made him even more determined to not die like those people. The streetlights were still working, so it meant that the city’s power grid was still working, or that any EMP’s hit. It would be the perfect opportunity for other countries to strike at America. Social media had fallen a long time ago, Den finding a radio but all the major stations were just static. They got attacked twice. The first encounter was with a man, no older than him. He looked lost, but when they locked eyes he charged like a bull. He held a bloody baseball bat, and swung it at Miller’s head. Miller ducked just in time, and with great efficiency, he fires several shots in the man’s chest. Blood splattered everywhere, and his clothes were stained. Den stayed behind him, silent. The second time was with a freak. It came out of nowhere when they were crossing the forest, a woman with rags for clothes. She had bite and claw marks all over her body, and they looked badly infected. Stringy blood dripped out of her mouth and she snarls, teeth bloody. Her eyes were a deep and dark abyss black, where nothing in contrast showed. She goes for Den, who was frozen by his side. Charging with her head down and a wet snarl, she tackles Den. He falls in a heap, and Miller yells at Den to move. He couldn’t though, trying to punch the girl. She claws back at him, trying to bite him too. Miller curses and points his gun at the girl, trying to get a clear shot with unsteady hands. Den kept screaming at Miller, saying: ‘Shoot it, shoot it, shoot it!’ Miller grunts and with shaking hands, pulls the trigger. The bullet speeds through the freak’s back, sending an in-human shriek echoing through the forest. Den pushes her off of him, then punches her square in the nose, her nose snapping and staying at an awkward angle. Miller rushes up at the withering freak, then puts a bullet in her head, the dying screech cutting off. “Did you get bit?" Miller asks Den, who looks at the freak with unblinking eyes. “No. Thankfully.” Den says, but Miller still looks him up and down, finding nothing but a small scratch on his forearm. He didn’t know if that was contagious, so he keeps his hairs raised and his distance. It didn’t look infected, but who knew? Miller walks behind Den, letting him take the lead for once.

From there, they never got attacked again, staying in the middle of the highway road. Empty cars lay there lost and abandoned forever. There were less and less bodies the more they went on, but blood stayed a little longer like annoying relatives. It was dawn now, and DI Miller was resting against a tree, looking out at the rolling hills of grass. They would travel for tonight, but he needed to rest. His feet were killing him, and Den was right beside him, sleeping. He would take first watch though, and so far it was quiet. Along the way, one of the gas stations had a backpack, so he picked it up and stuffed it with perishable food, water, and a small hunting knife he pick pocketed from a dead man. He didn’t like stealing from the dead, but the weapon that was once yours, could save his life. Miller always had his gun out, and it was laying by his side, pointing behind him. He had 5 bullets left, and pretty soon he would run out, leaving them armed with fists and a small hunting knife.

Miller looks down at the gun, reminding him of Grace. Poor Grace. At least she wouldn’t be able to live through this nightmare like he was. Maybe it was his punishment for not being able to protect her? Miller shut his brain off, not wanting to go in that area. He shuts his eyes, feeling a wave of tiredness sweeping over him.

He could still see Grace’s bloody face, her eyes lifeless and dead. The image burned his eyes, but he couldn’t look away. He was glued to the picture, and he could hear her screams echoing through his skull.

Help me.

 Why couldn’t you save me?

Why?

Please, come to me. The image is chased away, and Miller could see Grace with open arms. Her face was no longer bloody, but normal. Her beautiful face. Miller runs towards her, passing the blood and screams, and into his wife’s arms. “Grace?” He says, looking up at her face. But it wasn’t her beautiful face at all anymore. It was even bloodier, two huge gashes across her face. Her eyes were not the golden brown he loved to fall in, but a clouded red. The gash marks were yellow and red, infected. And the worst part was that they marked an ‘X’ across her face, blood spilling out from face and falling in the pool of blood. Her scream flashes his ears, then she screams in his face, a terrifying scream that shook his soul to the core.

Why didn’t you save me?! She grips both sides of his face, shaking him, making him look at her even more.

Why couldn’t you save me Miller?! Miller couldn’t even move his eyes, glued to her horrific face. He couldn’t even flinch when she plunges knives into his eyes, sending a spray of blood and a splash of pain.

Why why why WHY?! She screams in his face, and that was when Miller snapped awake.