Z-Day 1
Chief's POV
"Urgh!"
A groan escaped my lips as I struggled to push myself up on my feet despite the pain.
Probably the aftereffects of the continuous beatings I got not too long ago. For me, that is.
"Hey, but I'm pretty sure I died, again—fuck! How long has it been anyway?"
I couldn't help but frown in confusion, limping in every step as I walked up the muddy slope.
"Where am I?"
If my eyes weren't deceiving me, that's probably a roof sticking like a sore thumb up ahead.
That means buildings. And buildings have people in them, I could ask for information at least.
"God, what the fuck happened here?"
As I passed by the last rows of trees, I was greeted by what seemed to be a military camp.
Or what's left of it, I guess. Armored vehicles, military tents, a warehouse, and dead bodies.
I could see even more of what I assumed to be corpses wrapped in body bags at the side.
"This—it's a damn massacre out here."
I spotted a corpse in uniform, an empty gun in hand, leaning against a stack of cache.
A bullet wound at his temple, his face missing bits of flesh, seemingly mauled by something.
"This place screamed it had been overrun by—fucking rabid animals..."
Because I could think of nothing else, I mean, how else would anyone explain all this?
If people are responsible, then the whole area should've long been blown to bits and pieces.
Guts, a bunch of explosives, a swarm of Aladeen Efawadhs, and a whole lot of firepower.
That's how anyone could at least hope to take down an entirely armed military camp.
"Except there are no signs of it being attacked by—"
Hrrrnnn
A sudden raspy moan startled me out of my musings. It came somewhere on my left.
'What the hell was that?'
I couldn't see anything moving as my eyes darted to where the sound came from.
But I was certain that it came from those rows of trucks, somewhere around that area.
Hrrr—graah
'There it is again. Doesn't sound like it came from a human.'
My mind was racing, thinking that the things responsible for all this are still around.
I ducked low, quickly snatched the empty Beretta M9 from the military corpse's hand.
Patted the pouches at his side holster and managed to find a couple of pistol mags full.
"Gotta thank those HYDRA guys for all the training I went through. They're still shit though."
Spare in my jeans' back pocket, loaded a fresh mag, released the slide, and slightly racked.
As soon as I made sure the gun was loaded and ready to go, I slowly crept toward it.
I made my way to the first truck on my left, checked it from its inside, top, and bottom.
Went through and did the same to a couple next before turning up to the fourth one.
Gnaaarh!
'This should be it.'
Did the same thing again, checking its corners before eventually going around its back.
My muscles tensed as my mind determined that the gnarly sound definitely came from here.
"What the fuck?"
There it was, another corpse in uniform, in the same appearance as the other I had found.
Except, this has a missing jaw, has been run over, and pinned under the large, heavy tires.
Uuugraaah!
And as soon as I went close to him, or it, the thing began thrashing around, arms stretched.
"Oh, no, no, no, don't tell me..."
I had it at gunpoint, my gaze fixated on the mangled, rotting, and bloody undead before me.
My eyes widened in disbelief as I finally realized the probability of what overran the place.
Gnaaarh-ugraaa!
"Son of a bitch, it's a zombie!"
----
I wasn't really that freaked out about me being in a zombie apocalyptic world this time.
Or, probably, just my mind being resilient enough to process the reality I'm currently in.
A bit disturbed, perhaps. But that's about it, because everything just went so suddenly...
"Let's just hope more won't be showing up any time soon."
I'm currently wiping off a knife of some undead grime after I put the tire zombie down.
Well, I initially intended to shoot it at first, but then a sudden thought came to mind.
See, from all iterations of zombie movie depictions, they all have one thing in common.
A zombie's basic senses still work, so they'll be swarming to sounds once attracted.
So, instead of just shooting and being done with it, I opted for a more silent option.
There were plenty of supplies around, so I could grab anything or whatever to put it down.
Found a knife quicker, did the job before quickly grabbing a bag, and scrambled for supplies.
But not before stabbing every corpse I stumble into and making sure they stay dead.
Wouldn't want one to snag a quick bite while I'm going around looting the whole place up.
"This place is basically a goldmine for supplies, lucky me."
I looted everything starting from the outside first, opened every cache, and organized them.
MREs, water in gallons, weapons, ammo—basically, anything useful I thought I could find.
Lining every bag and cache up in one of the trucks after several back and forths.
"I'll worry about how I'm going to carry and bring them all with me later."
Because I can't exactly camp in here, can I? Too open, vulnerable, and close to the road.
At the moment, my mind drifted to the warehouse. Pretty sure there are plenty more to loot.
"The problem is, there's probably zeeks wandering inside that haven't been put down yet."
Wait, zeeks, yeah, I'll call them that from now on. Calling them zombies is a mouthful anyway.
I turned towards where I put everything I've looted so far and back to the warehouse.
I was hesitating. Whether to risk it for more supplies, or to just load what I have and get out.
Because I'm pretty sure that with the amount I currently have, I'll survive for a long time.
"Oh fuck it! More's always better. I'll just drive the truck, overloaded and strapped or not."
I'm expecting roadblocks at every road, that's why I was hesitating to use the truck.
Figured I could just ram them if needed. That's probably what I'm gonna do if it comes to.
Then I could probably find an isolated and defensible base later on to dump everything in.
And so, with my mind made up, I quickly armed and geared myself up to the teeth.
Wore a vest with open-top mag pouches for easier reload, of course, mags as well, M4 ones.
I was debating whether to remove the plate armor or not. The less weight, the faster I go.
Then again, the what-ifs came to mind. What if there are still people inside, alive and living?
With minds in constant threat for too long, hungry and thirsty, and becoming delusional?
What if they mistakenly see me as a zeek and shoot me? So, it's better to be ready than not.
I can't see the inside anyway, so I don't know. But I'm expecting it to be full of threats.
I have it go with 4 mags for Berreta M9 pistol mags at the front of M4 ones, and a knife.
Can't forget about that, just in case it gets too cramped or I get crowded by zeeks in front.
A tactical belt with the dumping pouch attached hanging to my left side, for empty mags.
On the right, attached to my thigh, is the drop leg holster for my sidearm, the Beretta M9.
With it are 2 extra pouches for the pistol mags. Not an ideal place for a sidearm, but it'll do.
Slung around me is the US Army's standard rifle, the M4, with no fancy accessories.
Good old iron sights, with just a light attached to the rifle's side rail, and a bayonet.
You know, in case the lights are off and dark inside. Pretty sure the power grid's out already.
The attached bayonet would be my primary weapon for this suicidal solo 'Operation Greed'.
Since I don't want to draw attention to anything within a mile. Zeeks or unsavory people.
But if it gets too overwhelming for close-quarters, only then will I start popping balloons...