Chapter One: Not So Quiet on the Western Front

"Dude, this is awesome!"

My friend runs out in front of me. I don't know why, it's only the Space Needle and it's a mile away.

"Luke, it's not that cool," I say, shaking my head. Even though the way the Needle tops off the nighttime skyline of Seattle is neat, it's not amazing. The Eiffel Tower seems more interesting than this.

I fail to see what's so special about it, he's been to Seattle before. There's really nothing for him to be excited about.

"Luke, I don't see what's so special about this damn needle. You've seen it before."

My cousin Dominic is the one who made that statement. I look at him and he's twisting, groaning while doing so.

"Damn, that's good," he says. He must've cracked his back.

"I'll bet. You think we should follow him?" I ask.

Dom shakes his head. "No, there's no point. We all know Luke is an idiot."

"Ruku wa baka desu," I say.

"That he is."

I've been learning Japanese by myself for a couple years now and I'm pretty proficient with the language. Dom doesn't speak it and neither do my friends, but they do know some words thanks to my repeated usage of the language around them.

"Where's Tubby?" I ask, realizing we are without the fourth member of our group.

"Starbucks," Dom replies simply.

"What the hell? He's become one with the white girl..."

Dom chuckles. "Yeah, that he has. I guess we should wait for Luke to stop ogling the Space Needle, huh?"

"Maybe. Maybe not."

I'll beat Luke's ass if he doesn't hurry up.

The only reason we're in Seattle is because of a class trip. It's not so much of a class trip, since that would entail the participation of our entire graduating class, but more of a pricey field trip. Dom and I managed to fundraise enough money to come, while Luigi and Luke were able to front the money outright.

Dom and I start walking towards a bench nearby and sit, tired of waiting for Luke's dumb ass. We're not even supposed to be in the streets this late, at least I don't think so.

"I wonder how someone can be so stupid," I comment.

"What do you mean?" Dom asks.

"Luke. He's the epitome of stupid."

Dom nods. "We already know this, but, yeah. It does make you wonder."

"Hey guys." The greeting belongs to a slightly high-pitched male voice, one that would stereotypically imply homosexuality.

"Luigi," Dom and I say simultaneously, also nodding at the same time towards our chubby friend.

"I see you're now a white girl," Dom jabs, pointing at the coffee cup in Luigi's right hand.

"Oh shut up, it's good coffee," Luigi replies.

"Nein, ist nicht gut," I say.

That earns me a glare. Oh well, it's not like I haven't experienced worse.

"Where's Luke?" Luigi asks as he sits down next to Dom.

"Being fat, I don't know."

That's the only answer that seems logical. Despite his thin body size, Luke's extremely lazy. All he does is eat and sit on his ass.

Personally, I'm not fond of Seattle. The west coast never appealed to me and it certainly isn't now.

"Just another year and I might be here again," I say, though I'm mainly thinking aloud.

"What, when you move to Japan?" Dom asks.

"Yeah."

"I still don't know why you want to!" Luigi exclaims.

"I've explained it several times before, but you don't pay attention," I say. "Can I have a sip of that?"

"My coffee?" Luigi asks. I nod. "No! You don't even like Starbucks!"

"Well, I'm parched."

He gasps with mock exasperation. "Fine."

Luigi raises his arm, about to hand me the coffee cup, when Luke suddenly returns.

"Guys! Guys!" he basically shouts.

"What?" Dom says while I take the coffee cup.

I raise the cup and take a sip. French vanilla, not bad. I take a drink, more of the coffee pooling in my mouth.

"Jesus!" Luigi says, snatching the cup away.

"Excuse me," I respond sarcastically after swallowing the hot beverage.

"Luke, what the hell did you want to say?" Dom says, though I look up and see Luke still catching his breath.

"Just..." He gasps for air again. "Come with... me..."

He runs off in the direction he came. Dom hops up and chases after him while Luigi and I lethargically get up.

"Should we?" Luigi asks.

I nod. "Yeah, might as well."

We start running after the other two, though Luigi is making sure his coffee doesn't spill everywhere. He'll probably shout "Jesus!" if it does.

We run through crowds of people already disturbed by our companions. How is Luke running so fast and for so long? Dom I can understand, but Luke?

"Jesus," Luigi complains. "Why do we have to run?"

"Luke's the one who should be complaining about running, not you," I retort, well aware of Luigi's presence on the soccer team. Granted, our boy's soccer team blows hardcore.

We suddenly bump into Dom and Luke. "Dammit!" I swear. My eyes shoot up to them, though they're looking through a window.

"This was so-"

"Callate!" Luke cuts Luigi off. He constantly speaks in Spanish for no reason. Just because he's in Spanish Five... Well, I randomly speak broken German and Japanese, so I guess I shouldn't complain.

Luigi goes to open his mouth, but he starts looking at the window as well. I look in the window, noting some TVs in them. I didn't know this was still done nor do I know how I didn't notice the audio. For some reason, there's a breaking news report on.

"...the President has been evacuated from the White House and been relocated to the USS George Washington. Attempts to reach the CDC about how to combat the epidemic have been fruitless so far," the newscaster said.

"The fuck is she talking about, 'epidemic?'" I ask.

"Yeah, what is it?" Dom seconds my question.

"Just keep watching," Luke says.

"...we now go live with Tom Cipriani from our sister station in Pittsburgh. How's it look out there, Tom?"

"Pittsburgh?" Luigi mutters.

"I still want to know what the hell is going on," I say, demanding the TV give me answers. The camera switches to show this Cipriani guy in downtown Pittsburgh.

"From the looks of things, Tracy, the zombies haven't been as big of a problem here. The Pennsylvania National Guard have the situation under control in the southwestern portion of the state, which includes the counties of Allegheny, Washington, Fayette, Greene..."

The reporter's voice blanks from my mind. Zombies? Did he just say zombies?

I turn to my companions. "Guys, did he just-"

"Zombies?" my cousin finishes.

Luigi and Luke just nod. I don't... What? I've joked before about wanting a zombie apocalypse, but I don't recall actually wanting one.

"They don't mean bath salt zombies, do they?" I ask, but the other three ignore me.

"...if you look behind me, you can see National Guardsmen patrolling the streets for the undead, armed with assault rifles and fifty-caliber machine guns..." A military Humvee drives in the background, a soldier manning the turret.

All of us are silent.

This is serious shit. The military's being sent out to fight them.

The picture shifts again to show the woman in the Washington, D.C. station.

"Several other cities aren't faring as well as the southwestern region of Pennsylvania. Miami, the location of the infamous bath salt zombie attack in May 2012, is under widespread siege. The Florida National Guard is currently attempting to evacuate survivors to Key West."

A short video clip of the chaos in Miami is shown. People run like madmen away from something, which I assume are the zombies. They may end up firebombing the city...

"Los Angeles is fairly safe, surprisingly thanks to the massive amount of gang members in Eastern Los Angeles. Chicago is in a similar state, but Detroit, unlike Chicago or L.A., is completely engulfed in chaos."

Another video clip rolls, this time showing buildings in Detroit on fire. Yet another video cuts in and shows several city blocks in a huge inferno.

"Mother of god..." I say.

"Mein Gott," Dom says.

Luke and Luigi are speechless. We keep watching the news report, oblivious to our surroundings.

"Numerous cities across the globe are also in various stages of distress. London has maintained order, while Beijing has gone up in flames much like Detroit..."

Hey, I don't care that much about Beijing. I don't think it matters if they're gone.

"We've just been told that Moscow has gone silent. There are also reports of widespread looting in Paris and Rome..."

They're kidding, right? No... They can't be.

"Guys, what should we do?" Luke asks. Speechless, I shrug.

"Maybe..." Dom spins around. "I don't know, go in there?" he suggests, pointing towards a bar opposite the TV-displaying store.

Brilliant idea, cousin. Let's just chill in a bar even though we're all underage.

I open my mouth to protest, but Luigi cuts me off. "Good idea. Bars have TVs, and maybe the people in there know something about what's going on."

That's actually... not too stupid. Regardless, I don't think any zombies are in Seattle.

"This is crazy, huh?" I say, but no one answers. There's a loud shriek and I look to my left to see the other three, but they're frozen in place, facing my right. "Guys, what the hell's the matter?"

Luigi is the one to respond as he raises his finger. I look to where he's pointing, my right, and my eyes widen, too.

A Washington National Guard Humvee is speeding down the street, smacking into a couple pedestrians along the way. People start screaming.

"What the hell are they doing?" I murmur.

"That can't be legal," Dom observes. No shit, Sherlock.

The Humvee is still mowing down people on the streets, and here we are, standing like dumbasses in its path.

"MOVE OUT OF THE WAY!" I shout, pulling Luigi and Luke off the sidewalk. It seems Dom already has the same idea and grabs Luke's shirt while we're on the road.

It's total chaos. People are flying, literally and not literally, trying to get out of the way. A body that was tossed up in the air by the Humvee slides right in front of us. It's mangled and bloody.

Resisting the urge to puke at the gory sight, I turn to my cousin.

"Dom, where are we going?"

"Do what I suggested, the bar!"

Luke and Luigi come to their senses and nod with me. The four of us dash across the street, several people smacking into us. There's a man on the ground, wailing in pain. He seems to have broken his ankle, but I can't grab him. Someone else runs on the man, smashing his face into the asphalt.

I feel a tug on my sleeve and I feel the urge to puke. I look up and the Humvee is right in front of me. No, I don't want to die!

The vehicle's lights temporarily blind me, causing my eyes to shut, and I can feel myself flying and my back smacking on the ground. Was I just hit?

...

I open my eyes and... Why is Dom above me?

"Dammit, 'cuz!" he swears. "Keep your head straight!"

I turn my head to see the Humvee smash into a street lamp, the engine smoking. Military vehicles shouldn't be that vulnerable to damage... Jesus, this is insane. I just saw two - maybe more - people get killed!

"Jake!"

I turn back around, Dom being the source of my name. I nod and scramble to my feet. Something's tugging at me, though. I turn towards the Humvee.

There's something wrong with that Humvee, especially if it just started mowing down civilians. We're not Soviets, so it's... weird. I don't think they would've been given orders to kill fellow Americans, especially those who aren't infected or whatever.

I don't know why I'm walking towards the military vehicle now, I really don't.

"Jacob!" Dom yells. I hold up my hand as I keep walking. People bump into me as they scatter about, trying to get to safety.

"What the hell is he doing?" I hear Luigi ask.

"I need to know what caused these Guardsmen to drive like it was Grand Theft Auto," I mutter. "I really do." Why am I talking if they can't hear me?

I reach the side of the Humvee, propped up on the bent street lamp. This thing really managed to do some damage. What's with these windows, though? They're... holy mother of god, is that blood? It is! Holy shit!

Maybe I should check the front.

Standing on the front driver's side tire, I peer into the windshield. I see a smashed up face behind some more blood. What the hell happened to these men?

"Jake, for Christ's sake," Dom shouts, barely audible above the commotion. "Get the hell over here!"

I ignore my cousin and peer deeper into the vehicle. Its occupants are dead, it seems. If there's one thing I know about zombies, it's that you need to kill them. A viable killing tool is a gun, and National Guardsmen have guns, so...

I hop off of the tire and walk to the door, my hand shaky as I raise it to the handle. I grip the handle and pull.

"WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING?!" my companions shout.

The driver's body rolls out of the seat, mangled and surreally decomposed. I don't... Oh god... I think I'm gonna...

A torrent of partially-digested food and stomach acid forces its way out of my throat. The vomit covers the dead Guardsman's face. Holy... This is too much. It's insane!

I hear countless rapid footsteps as I try to catch my breath after desecrating the dead serviceman's body. Is that dishonorable? I think it is.

"Gut Gott!" I hear Dom shout, a hand touching my back. "What were you thinking?"

"Gu-" I cough. "-guns."

"Why? No good survival story starts with the heroes having guns. Besides, the military'll have it all under control soon."

I shrug him off. "Doubt it," I cough. How can he be so confident about that?

I step over the dead Guardsman's body and peer into the Humvee's interior. Blood cakes the seats, the windows, the man in the passenger seat still moving. Had I not puked all over the...

Wait, he's moving? He's just smacking his face on the window, groaning. The dome light is illuminating his face, which is disgustingly gray. Is this gent a zombie?

He seems oblivious to me, so I decide against bringing attention to myself. Even if I did, the noise outside should keep him distracted until I find what I want. I look around the front, but there's nothing of interest. I back up and shut the door, coming face to face with Dom.

"Let's. Go," he forcefully says, grabbing my arm.

"I will once I get a weapon." I yank my arm away and open the back door.

The overhead light comes on again and the back is not as bloody as the front, thankfully. Where would they put the guns in a military Humvee? I swear it's in the back. Maybe...

Ah! There's one! What is it, an M16A1? I don't care. I grab the part of the rifle that's visible and yank it out. There's a magazine inserted, thank god it didn't accidentally fire. Now, more ammo...

I back out with the M16 in hand and look to my left. The dead Guardsman is still lying there, military vest and all. They usually have magazines in their vests...

"What are you gonna do with that?" Dom asks. I guess Luigi and Luke are already holed up in the bar.

"I'm gonna fucking shoot you if you don't shut up." He pipes down and I bend down next to the Guardsman, setting the M16 down next to me. I rummage through his vest, and sure enough, he has some magazines. Three, to be exact. Oh well, better than nothing.

I then grab around his thigh, where side holsters normally are. I touch metal, grab hold, and yank, pulling out a Beretta M9. Standard-issue nine millimeter... I'll give it to Dom. I feel around the fallen soldier's body for M9 magazines, finding a total of four. I stand up, shoving the M16 mags into my pockets and grabbing the M16 by the carrying handle.

"Here," I hold the M9 out to my cousin.

He hesitates. "Jake, this is impractical."

I slide the pistol and its ammo into my free pocket. "Then don't complain when some freaksack is chowing on your femur."

Dom sighs, possibly exasperated with me. He holds out his hand. "Give me the damn gun."

I grin, glad that he gets my point. Sliding the gun out of my pocket, I hand it to him, grip first. "Glad you see it my way, cousin."

He snatches the gun away and flicks off the safety, aiming it near me.

"What the hell?" I ask. Why is he aiming at me of all people?

"Look behind you," he says.

I turn my head to see what he's talking about. Surely it can't be anything ma-

"Ughhhh..."

What the hell?! The body, it's moving! And grabbing my leg! But how? Unless...

I grip the M16's carrying handle tight and use my free hand to hold the rifle's pistol grip. Using all of the force I can, I raise the gun up into the air and bring the butt down on the puke covered skull. A sickening thud ensues, brain matter and skull fragments mixing in with the partially-digested food.

It's a good thing I can't throw up ag-

"Bleeeh!"

My head spins back to Dom, who hurls all over the sidewalk. Someone slips in it and falls on their sorry ass.

"Goddammit!" the man shouts as he hastily gets back up to continue running.

"Asshole," I mutter as I hand Dom the four M9 magazines still in my possession.

He takes them and shoves them into his pocket, wiping away excess vomit from his mouth with his other hand.

"That's disgusting," he says.

"I know."

We walk back to the bar, his M9 at the ready and my M16 lazily hanging on my side. I think I should use this carrying strap...

I sling the carrying strap over my right shoulder, that way the rifle hangs by my right hand.

I look behind us to see some guy have the same idea I did. He opens the door and the other zombie lunges at him, grabbing hold and feasting. That poor guy... getting his face eaten off... I don't wish that on anybody. Now I wish I shot it.

We duck into the bar. Dom closes the door behind us and we walk to the actual bar. There are several people nervously sitting at tables scattered around the bar. Luigi and Luke are sitting at the actual bar and talking with the bartender, a man who seems to be in his sixties. He, I might add, is holding a twelve-gauge pump-action shotgun. They notice the two of us walking towards them.

"Why do you have those?" Luigi asks, confused.

"A better question," the bartender says, pointing at me. "How'd you get that assault rifle?"

"National Guard Humvee crashed outside," I say.

"You stole from the military?" Luke asks incredulously.

"It wasn't stealing," Dom says.

"Especially not when the Guardsmen we 'stole' from are zombies," I add.

"Zombie Guardsmen?" the bartender asks. Dom and I nod. "Sweet Jesus, the military's fallen?"

"Just a couple Guardsmen," I say. "I don't think it's that bad."

"Sure, kid." The bartender walks to the window of the dimly lit bar and looks out the window. "Shit..."

"What?" Luke asks, curious. I hate to say it, but I don't know if he'll be able to last in this kind of thing, so I hope it blows over.

"Take a look for yourself."

The four of us walk to the window and look out.

The sight is horrific. In the minute or so since Dom and I came inside, the streets have gone from a bumbling site of chaos to a gruesome dinner hall. Zombies, gray-skinned and those whose skin tones have yet to change, shamble around the streets. Some people are too stupid to run, instead thinking that shouting to get away will help.

I hate clichés like that. They're zombies, people. Just run.

There's a young woman who knocked a zombie off of some dude, likely her boyfriend or someone close, and she's caressing him. He inches up and takes a chunk out of her jugular. I turn away to avoid seeing the blood spray and try to block out her screams. The other people in the bar look at the window, concerned.

I slide the M16 off of my shoulder and grab the carrying handle. These people could use help. I pull the rifle up and grab the grip, but the bartender puts his hand on the barrel.

"Save your ammo, kid."

"Why? I've got a hundred-twenty rounds! One headshot each and I could clear this street!" I can save lives if I clear them out!

The bartender just rolls his eyes. "Unless you want to attract a horde with that gunfire, go ahead. I won't stop you, but don't think I'll save you."

I give the bartender a glare, even though he's right. It's just unnecessary attention...

The bartender closes the window curtains. "Joe," he suddenly says, spinning on his heel. One of the patrons at the bar itself looks up. "Turn on the TV, see what the hell's going on."

Joe nods and fumbles with a remote, clumsily pushing the power button. No matter the channel, news reports will be on. Sure enough, they are.

"...from Japan regarding the outbreak there as well." The newscaster's hair looks frayed now. This is seriously something if the news teams are getting this stressed.

The video that played is actually a newscast from Japan, it seems. There's kanji that mean "Breaking News" on the bottom left of the screen.

Subtitles are showing up, but I know what the Japanese woman is saying.

"...more than one thousand have been victimized in the Saitama area so far. The governor has called for a-"

A gunshot rings out, causing the reporter to look to her right. The cameraman moves the camera's angle to face where the shots came from. A Japanese ambulance has its back open, ready to load two body bags on. The body bags start to rise, and another shot is fired, going through one of the body bags. A third shot is then fired, going through the other body bag.

"The police have started to open fire! I don't know what's going on, but-"

The reporter is cut off by screaming and the camera falls on the ground. God knows what happened there. One thousand dead or undead in a Japanese community alone... the entire cities of Beijing and Detroit in flames...

I slump into one of the bar stools. Were I old enough, I'd be ordering a shot of whiskey right about now.

"...Cuba, Havana is lost and the people are revolting in the streets..."

"What are we gonna do?" Luke asks, slumping down next to me.

"No clue," I say. "It's safe back home, so we could try to get a flight-"

"You know that won't work, Jake," Dom says. He's right, since I'm well aware of that impossibility.

"Trying to be optimistic, Dom."

"How very unlike you. What, you trying to assume a leadership kinda role or something?"

I groan. "No, Luke's our leader." Sarcasm is dripping from my voice like water from a leaky faucet.

"The sarcasm's much appreciated."

I glare at my cousin.

"Maybe we should argue when we've got an idea of what we should so," Luke interrupts.

I point to Luke and nod. He finally has a bright idea.

Dom nods, groaning. "Yeah, maybe you're right for once, Luke."

Luigi goes back to the window and looks out it again, slightly raising the curtain.

"Whatcha see, Weegee?" Dom asks.

"Nothing good," is the reply. "It's slowly waning, but slowly getting worse at the same time." He makes a hiccup-like sound and backs up. "I think I'm gonna be sick."

Must've seen someone getting eaten.

The bartender grabs Luigi by the collar of his shirt and spins him around, pointing to a garbage can adjacent to the bar.

"Blow chunks in that," he says to my friend.

Luigi nods and stumbles to the wastebasket. I turn away from him as he paints the bag yellow.

"Can I get something to drink?" I ask the bartender.

He nods and walks to me. "Sure. Given the rapid deterioration of things, I'll even give you some liquor."

I shake my head, despite thinking about ordering whiskey earlier. "I don't drink."

He nods. "Smart kid. It's a bad habit to pick up." He turns to Luke and Dom. "You kids want anything?"

"Water," Luke says.

"I'll take you up on that offer. Shot of whiskey, please," Dom says. Of course he'd get liquor.

"And you?" the bartender looks at me. I don't know what I want, really.

"Got any Coke?"

"Kid, I serve alcohol and alcohol accessories, not hard drugs." He looks at me and cracks a smile. "Sure. I'll get your other buddy some water."

He turns around and starts getting us our drinks. Luigi hobbles back over next to us and sits next to me. Dom's being a hipster, standing the whole time. This bartender is a weird dude, giving Dom alcohol and not even mentioning prices.

"We need a plan," Dom sighs.

"I agree." My hand snakes up my neck and my nails dig into my neck.

"Getting the hell outta dodge would be a good one," Luigi says.

I roll my eyes. "We all know that's what we need to do."

My gaze drifts up to the TV. Japan, China, Britain, France, Italy, Russia... The most populous nation, no matter how much I despise it, lost a major city. Russia lost the capital, as did Italy and France. Britain's capital maintained order, so that should be reassuring, right?

I groan. No, no it shouldn't. For all I know, they'll send their navy over to retake the colonies. Actually, that's just silly.

"Dude, you're looking as if you're taking responsibility or something." Dom's voice breaks my thoughts.

I shrug and rub my eyes. "No, just thinking." The M16's tiring my arm, so I pull it up and set it on the counter.

"Here ya go," the bartender says, returning with our drinks. He hands them to their respective orderers. "Coke, shot of whiskey, and two waters."

"Thanks," Dom says as he picks up the whiskey glass. He enjoys the occasional drink, even though it's illegal. I see his logic, though. There's no law, no order... Why obey laws that aren't being enforced?

"Arigatou," I say.

"No problem, Mister Roboto," the bartender says.

"Water?!" Luigi says, talking with his hands at the same time.

"You blew chunks, I don't think pop would've helped you," I say.

"So did you!" he retorts.

"That was five minutes ago."

"Doesn't matter!"

I sigh and spot a white cup on one end of the bar. "What about your coffee?"

Luigi opens his mouth but words don't come out. He glances to the spot on the bar a bit further down and notices his Starbucks cup. He quietly gets up and walks to retrieve it.

I glance at Luke and notice that he's sipping on the water, but he's not talking. This is kinda disturbing, but I think Luke's just in shock. It doesn't surprise me, honestly.

Now that I think about it, he's paler than usual. Yeah, he must be in shock or something.

Luigi sits back down next to me, sighing as he does so. I take a long draft of the Coke and belch after I do so.

KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK!

That knocking is annoying me. I look around the bar counter and I'm not the only one having their nerves ridden. One patron at a table hops up and sprints to the door.

"What do you think you're doing, Gerald?" the bartender asks.

This Gerald fellow has a manic look on his face. "It might be survivors, Carl!"

The bartender, who I guess is Carl, slams his hand down on the table. "It's likely a damn corpse! Keep the door shut!"

Gerald shakes his head and pulls open the door. Someone flops on top of him when the door swings open a bit more.

"Look Carl, it's a surviv-" Gerald starts screaming.

I grab the M16 and Dom draws the M9, but Carl beats us both to the punch. A deafening bang is followed by the pumping of the shotgun. I look at Gerald and see bite marks on his shoulder, blood having been drawn. There's a huge spatter of blood on the wall and a body next to Gerald. The body... its head looks like someone stuck an M80 into a watermelon.

"I told you to keep the door shut!" Carl says, furious.

"Bleeeeergh!"

I hear someone puking again. I look to my right and its Luke. He just redecorated the counter's laminate. I look back at Carl and he doesn't look too pleased.

Thank god I'm done puking. It's really getting annoying.

Joe, the guy who turned the TV on, runs to this Gerald fellow's side.

"Ger! You alright?" he asks. I can see Gerald shake his head, but Joe doesn't seem to care. He heaves the moron up and drapes the jackoff's arm across his shoulder.

Joe starts walking back to the others with Gerald. Blood's dripping down from Gerald's bite wound. I get up and walk to the door, kicking the body out and shutting it before anymore shamblers barge in. That's a pretty nasty bite mark, come to-

Bite marks. He's been bitten. He's gonna turn. It's basic zombie logic.

I calmly walk back to the counter and grab the M16. This is the only option, right? Indeed it is. I shoulder the rifle, closing my left eye to aim down the sight. I can pull the trigger right now and prevent him from reanimating.

"Jake, what're you doing?" Luigi and Dom ask at the same time.

"He's gonna turn," I say.

Some of the people at the tables notice. "Hey! What the hell, kid?! Put the damned gun down!" one says.

Joe looks back because of that guy. "Hey! He's going to be fine, so calm yourself, kid!" He sets Gerald's unconscious, or dead, body on the table and spins around.

I don't think I'm going to lower this weapon.

"We said stand down, you little brat!" a third patron says. The men all stand and start walking towards us, a couple cracking their knuckles. They do realize there's an assault rifle pointed at them, right?

Carl raises his shotgun and Dom pulls out his M9, whiskey glass still in hand.

"Carl, what the hell?" Joe says.

"I agree with the kid, Joseph. Gerald may be your brother, but haven't you ever seen a zombie flick?" Joe slowly nods. "The zombies bite a man and the poor bastard'll die and become one."

"This is different! Those are movies, this is real life!" Joe retorts.

"There were two National Guardsmen out there," I say loudly. "I opened the door to their Humvee and the driver fell out, dead. The passenger was alive, zombified. The driver then came back and grabbed my leg before I killed him, so take a guess at what happened?"

"You're full of it, you ungrateful asswipe!"

"Then take a look outside!" Dom says, sipping on the whiskey. I don't know how he's drinking and aiming at the same time.

"And what," a man near the back says. "See nothing but chao-"

He starts screaming. What the...?

Everyone in Joe's group turns around and we all see Gerald making the one dude his snack. Blood spurts out of the bite wound Gerald made.

Joe runs and pushes Gerald's corpse off of the dude who just got bit. That guy's on the ground, whimpering in pain. Everyone else scatters. Some run into the streets, certainly to their doom, while others go to corners of the bar, trying to distance themselves.

"Baka! Dummkopf! Dumbass!" I shout at Joe, raising my rifle.

"Don't shoot!" He turns his 'brother' over and starts shaking him. "Ger, it's me, Joe. Your brother." I hear a faint sob.

"Keep your rifle aimed, kid," Carl says. I nod and flick off the safety, hovering my finger over the trigger. Good thing no one noticed I had the safety on earlier.

Luigi and Luke are standing close to the window, I guess. Out of the corner of my eye, I can see my cousin but not them.

"Ooooooooh..." Gerald's corpse groans.

Joe sobs again. "That's right, it's me, Joe."

"He didn't say 'Joe,' you idiot!" Dom yells.

"Yes he did! Just listen!"

"Oooooh..." Zombie Gerald groans again.

I can't get a clear shot on the freaksack from here, so maybe I should move to the left some.

"Yeah, Joe. You'll be fine, bro. You-" Joe's pep talk ends with his screaming. Dammit, I couldn't move fast enough.

KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK!

"Open the door! Come on, open the do-" Screaming ends that, too. So much screaming...

Dom pulls up the M9 and fires a shot, making a hole in Gerald's head.

"Now you're gonna die," my cousin calmly says.

"What? No, I don't want to die! I-ARGH!" He grabs his shoulder, blood visibly dripping from where he's grabbing.

"Shouldn't have insisted on saving your dead brother," I say.

"Guys, there are zombies outside the door," Luigi says.

Carl runs as fast as I think he can towards the back of the bar. "Everyone through there!" He points to a door.

Luigi and Luke follow, in conjunction with the rest of the people in the bar. Six people plus Carl are through that door already.

"You two, come on!" Carl calls from the doorway.

"One second," I say, turning to Dom and lowering the M16 to carry it by the carrying handle. "Give me the gun."

"What're you gonna do?" he asks as he hands it to me, grip first.

I walk over to the wriggling human being that is Joe, kneel down, and press the barrel of the M9 against his head.

"Don't pull the trigger!" Joe pleads.

"Jake, you can't be serious," Dom says, concern in his voice. "You can't just kill him."

"He'll just turn if I don't. Joe, wouldn't you rather die a human and not an undead sack of crap?"

"But I don't want to die!"

"No one does," I say. "You're unfortunate in the fact that you got bit. Your brother caused this, whether you like it or not."

"It's not his fault!" He wriggles some more, groaning in pain. Blood's coming out of his mouth now.

"Had he not opened the door like Carl said, you both would be alive! You're gonna die a man, not a corpse!"

Joe just glares at me, the blood coming out of his mouth glistening with the light. "Go... to... hell..." He's shaking violently.

"If preventing other people from having trouble with one more zombie causes me to go to hell, I'll gladly go."

I wrap my finger around the trigger and pull. The gunshot rings out, the Beretta's slide blows back, the spent shell casing is ejected, blood and brain matter spray out of the fatal wound...

I just killed a man. Put a gun up to his head, pulled the trigger... Now he's dead.

It's for the best. I didn't know the man, but I still believe it was for the best that I killed him. For him and other people.

"JESUS!" Dom shouts. "You freaking killed him! Cousin, what the hell is wrong with you?!"

I turn around and stand. "You know he wouldn't've survived! He would have came back and turned someone else!"

I start walking away, but there's that other guy Gerald bit. He's still wriggling on the ground. "Kill... me..."

I raise the pistol and fire a shot, the round going through his jaw and up into his brain. Poor man, just like Joe and Gerald. Brain matter and blood paints the floor now.

"Jake! You can't just shoot everyone!" Dom runs up to me, snatching the M9 out of my hand.

"He said to kill him, cousin." I was merely granting him his wish.

KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK!

"Shit!" Dom grabs my free hand and starts running to the door. "We've got to move!"

I don't know why, but it feels as though something inside of me died, like I've lost my humanity. Is it immoral to euthanize? Is it wrong to allow people to not end up becoming a monster, but die as a person?

Dom flings me through the doorway and slams the door shut behind us. We're in an alleyway, I guess.

"Jake..." Dom breathes heavily, looking up at me before grimacing. "Don't stop moving, let's catch up with the others."

I look to both ends of the alleyway and see nothing. I don't know where they could have go-

BAM!

"Sounds like a shotgun," Dom says.

It came from the right end of the alley. I raise my hand and point that way. We start to run down the alley and turn at its end. Carl and the others are standing there, a corpse lying in front of the group.

"Glad you could join us!" the old bartender says, waving his arm as we run to meet the group.

"Yeah, definitely," Dom responds.

I don't know why, but I've got a bad feeling about the others at the hotel. I don't think they're safe...

"What's up, kid? You look grim."

"Who, me?" I ask. He nods. "I'm just worried about our friends at the hotel."

"Shit, I forgot about them," Luigi says. Why am I not surprised?

"I'd suggest you four go check in on them, then." Carl seems pretty serious about this.

I nod. "We really should, guys." As if to reinforce my decision, I raise the M16A1.

"The five of us will go on and find somewhere to hold up," Carl says. "Jake, I guess you are, you've got balls. Go check on your friends and make sure they're safe. Maybe we'll meet again someday."

The five men from the bar start walking away, leaving the four of us to our devices.

"Brilliant, Collins," Luigi sighs. "Now what?"

"We should go to the hotel," Luke says.

"Yeah, we are." I rub my eyes with one hand. "There's just one problem."

"What?" Luigi cocks an eyebrow.

"Getting there." The streets of Seattle are foreign to us, so it's gonna be difficult getting back from here.

"What if we head back to Starbucks and continue from there? I know the way back from there." Luigi raises his coffee cup as if to make a point.

"Or..." Dom pulls out his cell phone from 2009. "We could use the GPS function."

Huh, smart thinking. No one ever uses that thing.

Luigi scoffs and drinks his coffee, apparently downing the rest of it since he tosses the cup down the alley. I guess Dom is typing the hotel's address into the GPS thing right now. Maybe Google Maps would've been a better idea.

I sit and and look at the M16. I don't think I'll be in possession of this thing for too long for some reason. It's a damn shame that I'm thinking that, too.

"Okay, I've got it," Dom says. "Luke, Luigi, grab something to use as a weapon and the three of you follow me."

I stand up and shoulder the M16. I'm glad that Dad did those military drills for once, teaching me proper firearms discipline and all. That's what happens when your dad's a Marine.

Luke grabs a broken beer bottle while Luigi grabs a broken metal pipe. Whatever you can get your hands on to use... Maybe I should've grabbed that Guardsman's knife...

"Alright," Dom says, the M9 readied. "We're moving out! Stay close and cover each other."

...and now I regret dragging Dom into those sessions with me. But for now, our destination is the hotel.

We start moving, checking our corners and keeping alert. Luke better not lose it.

The alleyway is empty, thankfully. We continue out into the streets and I take note of the immense number of zombies on the streets. There's so many... What's odd, though, is how they're not paying attention to us. We've walked past a couple and they haven't tried swinging at us or attacking us.

We make it in front of some store with music playing outside. I think it's a local grocer or something, but the zombies are crowded underneath the speakers.

"What the hell is up with them?" I whisper to Dom.

My cousin shrugs and we continue walking. I'm shocked that we've made it this far without an incident.

WHACK!

I take that back. I look to my side and see Luigi clobber a walking corpse that seems to have gotten too close.

Nonetheless, we carry on.

After a few minutes of walking, Dom speaks up. "Almost there." He points down the street to a tall building. "There's the hotel."

"Bueno," Luke says.

I hush Luke. "We're almost there, shut your trap."

Luke raises his hands in mock fear and we carry on. I whack a couple zombies in the back of the head with the butt of the M16 as we creep to the hotel. I don't think I killed a couple of them, but they still don't seem to be able to get up. Just like a turtle on its back, I guess.

Two or so more minutes of creeping ends with us in front of the hotel. There are zombies walking right into the lobby's windows.

"Just like Luke," Dom says.

"Those windows must taste like apples," I add.

"Shut up!" Luke says. "That was eighth grade!"

"No matter," Dom says. "Anyway, we need to think of a way to assault the building."

"I think I've got an idea," I say. "Gather 'round, watashi no tomodachi..."

Meanwhile, outside of Fujimi High School in Tokonosu City, Japan...

"Who's that?" Takashi Komuro asked, looking out of the open bus door.

"It's Shidou-sensei of class three-A," replied Saeko Busujima, the captain of the Kendo club.

"Shidou..." Rei Miyamoto knew exactly who that was. The teacher running towards the bus with some students. She hated that man.

"We can go now!" Shizuka Marikawa, the school nurse, called. She was the only one able to drive the bus.

"Wait just a little bit longer," Takashi replied.

For what? Rei thought.

"They're in front of us," Marikawa complained. "Any more and we won't be able to drive through here!"

"Then run 'em down!"

"If Doctor Boobs tries to drive over that many, we'll flip the bus," Saya Takagi, the resident genius, said matter-of-factly.

Takashi groaned and turned to the open door, ready to run out and cover the students running to the bus.

Rei hopped up and grabbed Takashi's arm. "We don't have to save him!"

"Jesus!" Takashi broke Rei's grip on his arm and spun around to face her. "What do you mean we don't have to save him?"

Why do you want to?! Rei thought angrily.

"We don't have to save him!" Rei shouted, getting into Takashi's face. "We should just leave him here to die!"

The two faced off, glaring at each other. Rei saw the scene behind Takashi, though. Shidou was instructing the others to hurry up, but a boy tripped. Instead of helping him up, Shidou kicked his face in and left him to die. Bastard!

Shidou walked onto the bus after his students and Takashi closed the door. "Okay, go!"

"Hang on!" Marikawa warned.

Takashi, you'll regret this, Rei thought ruefully as Doctor Marikawa started driving the bus.

"To the gate!" Saya commanded.

"I know!" the nurse responded.

Marikawa drove erratically, muttering something to herself. Rei felt uncomfortable, especially when the nurse started plowing through Them. That wasn't the only thing making her uncomfortable. Shidou's presence was making her very uncomfortable.

The school nurse plowed through the school's gates and started speeding down the road, all of the blossoming cherry blossoms becoming a blur to Rei.

"Can't believe we did it," Takashi muttered after a few minutes, obviously relieved. Rei couldn't believe he did it either, saving that asshole.

"Yeah." Rei looked up to see Shidou walking to the front of the bus. "I'm glad we did."

Rei saw Kohta Hirano giving Shidou a sideways glance. Please shoot him with your nail gun Kohta, please... she pleaded internally.

Shidou leaned down next to Saeko. "I take it you have been appointed leader?"

Saeko stopped cleaning her kendo stick and slightly turned her head. "There's no such thing. We just work together to survive, that's all."

"That's not good," Shidou growled. "In order to survive, we definitely need a leader. A leader who bears everything, with valor, with confidence..."

Rei wanted to kill the man outright. "You'll regret this," she angrily said to Takashi. "I guarantee that you'll regret that you helped him."

Rei really wanted to kill the man, and she would if she had the chance. She just couldn't believe Takashi helped him. The dumbest thing he could have done...

Author's Note: Yeah, things escalated quickly with our American pals. Questions? PM me!

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I blame any and all spelling errors on iOS autocorrect.