NUMBA SIKS a.k.a. PaleFucks

It happened around Thanksgiving. We had gathered a rather large group. Too large. Not even knowing these people, we allowed them to endangered our lives. A smaller group of about 8-12 people or independent groups of 8-12 working together, like us, are the best ways of combating this horde. Any more and you may attract unwanted attention. It's the noise that does it. That many voices, all whispering. The sound really travels when people don't exist anymore. No more people. Only survivors. Of those, there are the useful, and there are the dead.

We were sneaking through the dimly lit streets of _LOCATION_OMITTED_. Passed apartments and office spaces. Passed schools and homes. The Zombies here, like in most places, took over quickly. They ate. A lot. And, when there's no more food, you don't just hang around, you go and find it. So they do. They march. They take the streets and hunt. They never get too far. Never out of their town or city. Just around and through it.

One of the eeriest things to watch, a Zombie March. Brains simplistic enough to keep to the roads and follow them to more meat. They would fill the streets. Shoulder to shoulder all trying to get food. Shuffling their feet. Moaning. All in unison. It's not a soundtrack that I ever wish to here again. But at least they leave. It is nice to see them go when you need an open path to shelter.

The group is whispering quietly to each other. Scared hushes from mothers to daughters. Trembling fathers attempting to comfort their sons. All of this will get us killed. Our group was split into two, like always. Xander with his 12 and me with my 9 plus 18. We were, after all, the group that had a majority vote FOR this. New rule: Democracy sucks in a Zombunist Society.

This mass of stupidity around me is akin to a herd of grass-grazers being led to slaughter. Thinking that just because they're following the guys with the guns that they're gonna be just fine. Hunky-Dorie. But the truth was that these people weren't of any use except becoming more ammo for the other side. I should've done them in. I should've killed them all before we ever got going.

LADY1 chimes in first. She's almost always the first to get things rolling. Even if she never really leads the conversation, her opinion is still well noted amongst us. Has been for a while now. She speaks in our usual whisper words, "Where can we go? There's way too many of us to camp out now."

"THEY ain't US. But, the only place around here close enough is the gym. We can pretty easily control those entrances and exits too." DUDE1 wastes no time in getting his opinion heard as well.

"We can even get back into the locker rooms if we have to. Barricade ourselves in. The problem would be the exit..." the guy's got a lot of pull, so when Xander agrees, it's pretty much a sealed deal.

I remind them, "We DID check the place out on the way through right? So...who went into the locker rooms?"

"Me" Dude2

"Okay, are there any windows at all?"

"I don't remember. I think so."

"Alright, think harder. Who scoped out the West side of the building?"

"I did" LADY2's confident quite voice.

"Do you remember it being a solid wall? Or were there windows? It'd be pretty obvious."

"There were, yeah. But they were near the ground. Kinda small."

"Could I-?"

"Get through? Yeah. It's some of the newbies..."

"If we have to, we leave them. End of story."

"WE VOTED! YOU CAN'T!" LADY3. It's hard to say no to her sometimes.

"Shut it! It's done! I'm not risking all of us for these people. No way. Not us. Not you. Not me. If it comes down to it, we cut them loose. Got it?" only sometimes.

"...Fine" she begrudgingly concedes. "Just promise me you'll do everything you can before that happens to help them. Okay?"

"No" sometimes. "These people are not who I-"

"Shh!"

Collectively silencing ourselves, we hear it. A sound only 21 people have ever heard. Our twenty-one. Waiting in the apartment as they passed on the street that day. Now they're back. Hundreds, maybe thousands of them. And the main coarse is on Main Street. Goddamn it. We run. All together, we run.

Xander's group takes point clearing away any stragglers that missed the march. There aren't many. LADY3 stays behind our new crowd to make sure they're safe. Not her job.

"What the fuck are you doing? You do want to live, right?" I hold back as much as I can.

"I-"

"Get to the damn gym. NOW. I've got this."

"You can't."

"I am. Go."

"Not alone. I'll stay."

"The reason I'm here is so you don't have to be. Now go. Please."

It's there in my voice. I can't hide it this time. She's never known how I really felt. Until now. I see the tear she tries to hide as she ducks her head and sprints towards the gym. It's 2 miles away. Tough girl.

"GET YOUR ASSES IN GEAR!!! I'M NOT HERE FOR YOU!"

They run. Our new guests are running. For the first time showing some motivation.

A crackle on the walkie and I hear Xander, "What the hell are you doing? Leave 'em!"

"I told LADY3 I wouldn't."

"Not that shit again...FINE." the dead click on the other end was comforting. Within seconds Xander is at my side with DUDE3, DUDE5, and DUDE4. "We'll take up the rear with ya."

"Fine. but don't shoot until-"

"AAAAAAAAaaauuuuuuuuhhhhh. uUUUUUuaaaaaah." a sick chorus line of death-heaves and scraping toes. They see us.

"Shit. Rifles." with mine already out I release the bindings of the safety that have held back My Aggression. She sings. One round at a time. One skull at a time. Slowly. Methodically. Every. Bullet. Counts.

Xander and the others have already moved up and are prone on stoops and planters.

"Carefully guys. One at a time. Aim DUDE5!!! FUCK!" Xander maintains control and carefully sweeps his M1 Garand across the school of dead fish on two legs. Eight rounds. Eight kills. The clear ping of an empty clip. "Goddamn that was awesome! I wish I had more clips.." He's smiling and laughing.

I fire a round through the left eye of a charge nurse. "Maybe now you could just use it as a back-up bat!" So am I.

"Fuck that." He leaves the rifle and swings the MP5 from his shoulder as we advance up the road. DUDE4 takes down three entire rows before his clip is done.

DUDE3 takes his marksmanship a little serious. Posted up on a nearby rooftop he clears the road ahead of us. Carefully taking down targets around our 18 new pieces of flesh with his 7.62 NATO rounds. They tear through their victims like a hot knife through Zombie brain. "Guys. We're clear up here. The path for our 'Guests' is open and they're almost to the doors."

"Moving." I pat Xander's shoulder to let him know I'm there. He peels off and we're all in a dead sprint for the gym. We must've put a mile and a half of deader bodies in the street on our way up to the gymnasium. Lots of rounds...Fucking new people..."Sorry about this shit guys."

"Don't...worry about it now. We can always....find more. If we...cut the fat....tonight...we should have enough....for Us." Even in broken speech it calms me right down. Xander gets me to focus.

As we round the last corner we can see the gym ahead of us. It's what we hear behind us gets our attention though. Screams higher pitched then we've ever heard. Zombies for sure. It sounds like a band saw shredding vocal chords and gargling on the blood. A noise so loud and horrible everyone cowers. Except us. Xander and Me. We stood. We began looking down the street for the source. Half expecting something to be crawling on the walls. No such luck. Before the blackout we heard the virus can mutate the host in order to keep it alive. We never imagined this.

There were a few dozen of them. Pale. Pasty. Nearly skin and bones. Their skin is almost invisible, tightly stretched across muscle and bone, but it has a distinct sheen to it. Eggshells. Through the skin you can see the obviously defined and toned muscles beneath. They look oddly strong and agile for it looking so malnourished. Stretch marks and sores strech the length of their bulbous, blue, grotesque guts. They had large dark brown nails that resemble claws on the tip of every finger. Long, thick, jet black hairs lightly covering the head. The glowing red eyes easily visible through the parts in the sheet of hair. The other zombies didn't leave because they finished eating. They left because they were out hunted! These pale fuckers ate more then their share of this city. That was obvious.

"What the fuck are those things!?!??" DUDE5 has a valid question.

"Dead." I fire my equally valid answer through the frontal lobe of the first PaleFuck. It dies in and equally agreeable manner. Then they're gone. In the blink of an eye the entire group was gone. "......fuck"

"RUUUN!!!" Xander gets our blood boiling and our legs pistoning towards the gym. Not far now.

We reach the doors just as we hear the first of them sprinting towards us. A sickly clattering of its overgrown toe nails on the concrete. Their speed is incredible. His reflexes are better. With a swing of the rifle DUDE3 has loaded a round and scoped his target. He drains the afterlife out of the PaleFuck four feet in front of me. Its speed causes the creature to crumble into my shins. The feeling of its skin is impossible to describe. But the feeling it gave me was undeniable. Dread. For the first time I could feel the terror of the world at my feet. Right here was why I do this. To violently rip this feeling from the face of my Earth. I pound my size 12 through its skull.

LADY2 opens the door like a bullet when she hears the gunshot. The five of us cram into the doorway and we quickly barricade it with our usual supplies.

LADY3's in my arms before I realize it. I have to cut it short. No time for this. I take her by the shoulders and stare into her. I nod and smirk. She understands.

"W-w-w-what the fuck was THAT!?!! The last note of Martha's poorly timed question gets an even poorer response.

"THAT, BITCH, IS WHAT SHOULDA BEEN EATIN YOUR ASS!!!" DUDE5 can't hold it back anymore. Like all of us, he's been pushed to the edge. We didn't make our promise to each other for THEM after all. We were in this for Us, not Them. Martha starts crying. Mr. Martha STARTS to get up. Mr. Martha looks at Xander. Mister sits down. Good boy.

"Are all the doors sealed already?" DUDE3 asks the pertinent questions.

"Me, DUDE7, LADY3 and LADY6 sealed off the gym and swept the locker rooms when we got in. We're all clear." as LADY2 said it the first PaleFuck tried the door. Throwing it's body against the doors causing them to nearly imploded in on themselves. Lucky for our homemade braces. They seem to hold just fine. We did design them for this after all.

More and more they try. Feverishly they try. Pounding the doors over and over. Wailing their malignant, throaty harmonies. Our new guests are just about pissing themselves. In every possible way the PaleFucks try to get at our guests. Every way. Except one.

The breaking of the glass can faintly be heard behind the hollow screeching outside They're too damned fast. Too fucking smart. They used our exit against us. Bastards. Pale fucks...