Death is only the Beginning (EDITING)

Chapter XI

Boston, Massachusetts; 6:43 pm.
13 days following the outbreak

A light wind blows through the deserted streets of Boston. The last light of the sun casts the city in a dark, orange glow. Trash, deserted vehicles, and the unspeakable amount of rotting, torn apart corpses litter the streets. It was very quiet. No chirping birds, no honking of cars and trucks; not even the roar of a passing plane. The street was mostly empty except for a man and a woman. Their arms hang limp and their feet move sloppily one step at a time. Their clothes, one dark blue pants and shirt with the letters BPD on it and the other a bright green dress with white flowers, both torn and covered in blackish red blood.

Hideously large bite marks cover the torn parts of their clothing, exposing torn flesh and guts. Their eyes, lost of all sign of life, stare off into the void. From their mouths came a faint, gurgling moan. The two moaning figures pass a large, three story glass building. The building's significance, once important to society, now stands out like any other building. Suddenly, two bullet holes appear in the glass, cracks spreading through the glass threatening to break. The glass then shatters as a figure dressed in black leaps through them and lands on the asphalt.

In closer inspection, the figure wears black pants, boots, gloves, black riot armor, knee pads, and a black trench coat over the armor. A black helmet with a matching black gas mask with green tinted lenses covers the figure's head and face. Over its back it carries a well sized black backpack. Slung over its back, dangling over the backpack hangs a scoped Scar-L; black, with a flashlight grip and suppressor. It gets up, a head taller than both man and woman, grabs its rifle and delivers two rounds into their heads before dozen more moaning figures step out of the glass building.

The figure looks back at the horde of blood covered men, women, and children, glances at the gold sign with the writing 'Boston Police Department' and begins to run. The figure grunts underneath its gas mask as it heads up the street, passing several deserted vehicles including half of a school bus sticking out of what once was a restaurant. It quickly looks left and right, then runs towards an alley in between two large buildings and stops in front of a ladder hanging four feet over the figure in black. It looks at the brick wall to its left, then the ladder above it

It sighs, saying "You have got to be kidding me," to itself in an amplified male voice. He sighs again, takes several steps back, and then runs towards the brick wall to his left, jumps, and leaps towards the ladder barely grabbing it. Now dangling over the alley on the last step of the ladder, he takes a few deep breaths and begins climbing. He climbs up, grabbing one step at a time before finally being able to place his feet on the ladder where he then quickens the pace. At the rooftop, he takes off his backpack, and lies down on the rooftop panting.

He reaches up to his gas mask, attached to a combat helmet with a small radio and antenna mounted to the right, and presses a small button on the left side of his gas mask helmet. With a soft hiss the gas mask opens up a tad bit, fresh air blowing into the unshaven cheeks of the man. He takes off his gas mask, runs his hand through his short, sweaty brown hair before looking back up at the sky. The last glimpse of the sun left the sky hazed in pink, orange, and purple. The smell of rotting meat came across his nose but he just ignores it, enjoying the fresh breeze.

"Fuck, that was close," the man says as he carefully looks down into the mob of undead, moaning and raising their hands at him. "I guess it's waiting," he says as he sits down and pulls his rucksack close to him. From one of his side pockets he pulls out a folded piece of paper and a pen. The paper, now unfolded on the roof top, revealed to be a map of Boston with certain locations labeled with letters and shapes like circles, stars, and large X's. "Was really hoping the file was at the police station," he says, including another X to the dozen others on the map. Looking at the map he notices only one circle was left. "That, only leaves Fenway. Where this wild goose chase began goddammit!" he tells himself while going through his backpack, slowly pulling out magazines for his assortment of weapons and what other supplies he has.