The lights flashed in a rotating red-blue pattern in the car in front of Johnson and Andy.
Frink was just barely able to get them clearance to enter the quarantine zone using fake CDC badges. Luckily, the real CDC hadn’t arrived yet, so the two agents were able to get this far.
Andy thought it humorous how the media had swarmed the agents’ sedan outside of the barricade. No doubt men in black suits driving a car with tinted windows into a quarantine zone would draw attention. Johnson didn’t like the thought of that. At least the state troopers didn’t allow the media to trail the agents inside.
Just then, the two squad cars in front of the agents pulled over. Inside one of them, a trooper waved Andy through. Andy obeyed and drove down the abandoned country road.
Frink had heard of the quarantine area here in rural Minnesota through intercepted police calls. Frink then realized that there was a Bureau of Enforcement office-turned-Bureau 13-supply dump in that vicinity. The supply dump was manned by a team of Bureau agents who were now probably trapped. Johnson decided that he and Andy should check on the agents there.
As Andy raced down the road past a few vacant farms, Johnson looked up and saw something large in the sky catch a bird with . . . hands?
“Agent Andy, I’m beginning to think that this quarantine hasn’t been erected for the reasons the local authorities told us,” Johnson said as saw the thing swoop down from the sky, towards the car. Johnson reached for his Berreta.
The reddish thing hit the car hood (thankfully not denting it) and stared directly at Andy. The car swerved. Johnson identified the winged, horned devil as an imp.
The imp spoke to the agents, its wretched voice barely audible through the window. “If you value your lives, you will turn back now.” Then it flew off.
Johnson pointed to a three-storied office building just outside of down. “There.” Andy obligingly pulled into its parking lot, and the agents raced out of the car into the building with guns drawn.
When they opened the doors, they saw a fallen agent in the corner with several other corpses strewn about the room.
What shocked Andy was the fact that the corpses were moving.
As each corpse stood up, Johnson and Andy shot it back down. They assumed that the reanimated bodies would be hostile. Judging from the ruin of the room, that guess was correct.
When they made it to the Bureau agent, he gasped a few sentences. “They’re everywhere . . . they took us by surprise and . . . killed my team. You must find them . . .”
Andy was intrigued. At least the man had recognized that Johnson and Andy were Bureau 13 agents. “Find who?” Andy asked.
“The other agents . . . They’re in town. Heard gunfire earlier . . . it’s stopped. Tell my wife . . .” The man gave out with that tidbit.
“How was it that he was able to survive until we arrived, yet died immediately after he released important information?” Johnson queried.
Andy shrugged. “Well,” he said, “we better find the other agents. I didn’t know the Bureau had responded already.” With that, the two surviving agents stood up and walked to the door. ***
Strike Trooper HH 020 thought he had heard gunfire outside. Maybe some state troopers had attempted a rescue mission. Maybe MJ 12 had sent reinforcements. Maybe it was those few surviving Bureau 13 agents in that supply dump just out of town. Or maybe he just imagined it.
HH 020 knew that only the second possibility would actually help him. It would take a small army of well-trained individuals to save him and his team now.
HH 020, real name Herschel Johnson, sat back down in his lookout post and thought about his life before this moment. His childhood consisted of his pro-military father drilling him constantly, and his teen years held his rebellious era. Back then, he had a girlfriend that he took to the country often and they would fornicate without his father’s knowledge. Then one day she got pregnant and Herschel joined the army. Instead of returning home after that, he became a mercenary and later found the MJ 12 as a permanent source of employment.
HH 020 heard the gunfire again. This time, he was sure of it. He stood up from the lawn chair he had found and peered over the ledge of the roof.
It was coming from the direction of that Bureau 13 supply dump. HH 020 wished he and his men had chosen that place as a holdout. Plenty of guns there. His team was almost out of ammunition. They had stopped firing on zombies hours ago. Now they just had to keep quiet.
Yes, he saw movement there. Living humans with weapons. They must have been the stragglers from that Bureau 13 supply dump making a break for it. HH 020 knew they wouldn’t bother coming into town to look for survivors.
And yet, these people did turn towards town.
***
Andy emptied his Berreta at the creature that jumped at them from the right. Johnson had taken down two on their left without wasting a shot. Andy thought Johnson was trying to show him up.
Already bleeding, Andy was running low on ammo. They had barely made it onto main street when they had attracted a hoard of the monstrosities. Green ones, ax-throwing ones, chainsaw-wielding ones, demonic bats, and freakish leeches.
The hardest thing, however, was facing down the ones in black body armor. Andy didn’t know why those things were here, but they looked like they came from an organized force.
Andy spotted an open door on a shop and pulled Johnson inside. Then he closed and barricaded the door while Johnson checked the area. Six gunshots and two dead zombies later, Johnson and Andy felt a modicum of safety.
Then the entire back wall of the former shop was ripped out.
Johnson and Andy stared at the gigantic humanoid figure that had ripped it out. It carried a long ax and had no head. The little flying thing that had warned them earlier on to turn back was flying around the behemoth.
The creature swung at Johnson. Andy, after reloading his Berreta and cocking it, fired at the thing’s arm. No effect.
Johnson couldn’t dodge the huge weapon and was sliced down the gut. Johnson’s kevlar-lined undershirt was torn though. His suit was ruined and covered in blood.
Andy fired several times at the goliath’s stomach. It seemed the most revealed area, and Andy was lucky. All the bullets hit, and blood spewed out from the organ.
Once Johnson had regained his footing, he fired at the creature to the best of his ability. He was still bleeding from his stomach, but didn’t seem to mind. His anger was showing through.
The monster swung at Andy and Johnson in a wide arc. Andy ducked, but the swing was too low. The ax lobbed off Andy’s head.
Johnson didn’t fare so well either. He dodged to the best of his ability, but the swing sliced into his side. His undershirt protected him, but he lost his footing. He slipped and landed on an antique tiller that the shop had on display. The rusty blades sliced through his torn undershirt and penetrated his organs.
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