Bionation - The Prologue

The moans of the dead filled the air as hundreds of feet trampled over the early spring’s crops. They shuffled together in unison, drawn by the scent of the living waning through the air. A rooster let out its final cry before its life ended in the wet snap of a shambler’s decaying teeth. The spilt blood caused a frenzy among the dead, bringing out the most simplistic primal nature as they fought amongst themselves for a nibble of the flesh. Within moments the rooster was devoured, and once again the shamblers stumbled towards the barn, arms outstretched and moaning in hunger, a sick reminder of what humanity once was.

Alyssa Martelli covered her nose in disgust, the stench of rot and death was overwhelming. She was trapped at the top ridge of the barn, surrounded by the monstrosities stumbling around aimlessly below. Her long red hair drooped over her face and came down to her midsection, in dire need of a cut. A haircut, heh, that was one of those things that one took for granted in the past. How She longed to have her hair shortened, and a shower. Oh, how she longed for one! Her last “real” shower was over four months ago, oh had those last few months flown by. Her pale skin was dotted with a few freckles and smudges of dirt. She looked like a refugee from a third world country.

“Ain’t that a bitch.” Taylor Kell spat as he paced back and forth around the loft of the barn, looking down in disgust at the crowded barn below. There were dozens of them, and Taylor was down to three rounds for his rifle. Alyssa tiredly looked over at the worn M1 Garand propped up against the wall. Scratches lined the wooden frame, indicating that it had seen its fair share of action. The stock of the gun had been split in two, and was now held together by duck tape. Alyssa looked up to him, he was a big brother to her of sorts.

Two months ago, him and his father had pulled her from a car wreck while fending off the dead. The Kell family, amidst the madness of everything going on, were actually still good people. They had fed her, clothed her, and given her a moderately safe place to live. That had all changed yesterday, when the first of many shamblers broke through the fencing that surrounded a small portion of the farm. It had all happen so quickly, nobody had been prepared. Taylor and Alyssa had managed to make it to the loft in the knick of time, but it had come with a price- they were now surrounded. No way out, trapped like rats. Taylor had managed to make a frantic call for help on the radio before they had run, but that didn’t matter. Nobody was left alive to hear it, and those that were just simply didn’t care anymore. Times had changed, everybody was out for themselves.

“My Pa, that’s my damn Pa down there…” Taylor grunted as his pacing came to a halt and he looked down, pointing at an elderly man in overalls with a large gash in his neck. Alyssa watched as Taylor removed his withered cowboy hat and ran a hand through his short messy hair, shaking his head before he put the hat back on. The farmer’s son sighed as he reached into his pair of light worn jeans, pulling out a dirty shell for the rifle. His cowboy boots kicked up hay as he snatched up the gun and pulled the bolt back, giving him leeway to insert the shell in the gun. His hands shook as the shell was inserted into the feed, and with a snap he slammed the bolt down.

“We might need the bullets.” Alyssa sighed as Taylor held the gun in shaking hands. The early morning sun drifted in through slight cracks in the roof of the barn, casting shadows and beams of light to drift down in various places. Taylor’s bare chest was beaded with sweat as he placed the stock against his shoulder.

“That be my Pa down there… I ain’t gon’ let him be one of them, I won’t.” Taylor said sternly with a heavy southern accent. Alyssa simply nodded, knowing full well that she’d do the same if it were her own loved ones below. Truth was, from day one she’d ran for her life. Never was one to really rely on others, so much as trust. Especially considering the circumstances now, it was do or die. Alyssa flinched as the crack of the rifle shattered through the consist moans of the dead. Mr. Kell’s head split in two as gray chunks of brain matter exploded from the back of his head, adding one less moan to the vestibule of cries for hunger.

Taylor sighed again as his father’s legs gave out and he collapsed against a bail of hay, knocking over the oil lamp resting on top. The lamp cracked ever so slightly as the oil spilled out over the hay- and once the flickering flame met with the hay it was ablaze in an instant.

“Shit.” Taylor cursed as he lowered the rifle. Alyssa stood up, stretching and shaking her hair free of stray hay.

“Well that’s not good…” She trailed off, watching as a few of the shamblers were intrigued by the fire. The were oblivious to their fallen brethren, stepping over Mr. Kell as if he were nothing more than a stepping stone as they made their way to the small fire that had formed. Black smoke rose to the ceiling as the dead were quickly set ablaze, their papery ashen skin flammable from a year of their bodies being drained.

“Think it will go out?” Taylor asked as he was mesmerized by the trio of dead that had caught fire. Their wails rose above the rest as they flailed about, catching more of the bails on fire.

“No, no it won’t…” Alyssa looked around as more black smoke came about, the flames now licking against the frail wooden frame of the barn. “Is there any way out?” Taylor looked around nervously, but knowing all too well that the barn had been surrounded.

“Ugh…” The farmer’s son jogged across the loft and to the small window overlooking the farm. He placed the rifle against a support beam as he pried the window open and looked down. The look in his eyes told her that they were screwed.

“Maybe we can wait it out.” Taylor coughed as the black smoke began to consume the air. Alyssa rubbed her eyes as they began to sting. Well, she had a good run. One year of running scared for her life, abandoning others and killing the walking nightmares. Yeah… she had a good run. Never really made much of her life, being an aspiring artist. Her parents had all but given up on her ever becoming anything like her beloved brother, the golden child of the family. Harvard graduate, successful lawyer, an asshole. What had it got him in the end? Alyssa had caved his head in with a hammer. A slight smile formed on Alyssa’s lips, knowing deep down that in the end, she had won.

“Hey… hey!” Alyssa snapped out of her memories of the past, and realized she had been breathing in the deadly smoke the entire time. Taylor had the M1’s magazine in his hands, and she saw that he had loaded their last two rounds into it. As he slapped the magazine into the gun, he grabbed his abandoned flannel shirt resting on the ground. The sleeves had been torn off some time ago to cope with the Spring’s heat.

“Cover yer mouth.” Taylor instructed, oddly calm. The stench of body over washed over her face as the shirt was placed against her face, making her want to vomit. But… it was better then dying of smoke inhalation. Taylor removed his worn cowboy hat and placed it over his face, holding the rifle in his free hand.

“Come on ya bitch.” He lightly knocked against a few of the side boards, testing their durability before taking in a deep breath and lowering the hat. Grasping the old rifle with both hands, he slammed the stock against them.

“Hurry!” Alyssa urged as the moans of the dead reached a crescendo, as if they knew they had the two survivors cornered. The boards creaked in resistance as the butt of the gun was slammed into them. “Hurry!” She urged again as the fiery flames from the depths of hell itself reached the loft. The stray strands of hay littering the creaky floor boards burned up in an instant. A support beam was engulfed, threatening to bring to barn down any moment.

“I am god damn it!” Taylor hissed as he slammed the gun against the boards again. The stock of the rifle shattered when he did so, the shards rained down as he cursed. “Fuck!” Alyssa’s vision began to cloud over as she got up and grabbed a piece of piping discarded on the ground. Stumbling over to the boards she threw her entire weight into them with a mighty swing, and was rewarded with the portion of the wall splitting apart and fluttering out the side of the barn- taking Alyssa with them. The pipe left her grasp as she screamed, her side getting cut by the stray wood as she flew out of the window. Alyssa’s eyes went wide when she saw just how many of the undead were outside of the barn, waiting in a sense. A hand wrapped around her ankle, halting her plummet- thank god for Taylor. With a sickening crack her head slammed against the side of the barn, causing black dots to obscure her vision.

“Hold on!” Taylor said with a grunt as he pulled her up, gasping in a lungful of the fresh air outside. Alyssa couldn’t be sure, but she could have sworn she saw a helicopter landing off in the distance. No, it couldn’t be. She hadn’t seen an operable flying aircraft in six months. Her eyelids fluttered shut as she was laid down in the loft, that smelly shirt covering her face again. She opened her eyes slightly to see Taylor struggling to break free more planks for a breath of fresh air.

Moaning in pain, Alyssa found herself having difficulty staying awake. The shirt slid down her face, allowing the dark smoke free access into her lungs. Alyssa’s chest heaved as she hacked up dark phlegm, gasping for a breath of fresh air that just wasn’t there. Here eyes squinted shut as her head began to pound profusely. No, that wasn’t her head. It was gunfire.

Alyssa’s eyes remained shut, she was too out of it to open them. Was it Taylor? No, it couldn’t be. She heard automatic gunfire, and from the sounds of it there were multiple shooters.

“Taylor?” She croaked, forcing her eyes open.

“Stay down.” He coughed, his hat over his face. Taylor grabbed the flannel shirt and lightly pressed it against her mouth as she watched down below, wondering if she was really seeing the scene that was unfolding below her.

A very large man was slowly walking into the barn, the twin doors wide open. He fired a heavy machinegun at the shoulder, his massive arms absorbing the recoil like it was nothing. A gas mask obscured his face, but short cropped hair could be seen on the sides of his head. He wore a pair of camouflaged combats, which were tucked neatly into a pair of worn boots. The man was shirtless say for a black Kevlar vest that barely covered his massive frame. The black straps of a holster around his leg indicated his was packing addition heat, and a large sheath homing a tactical knife was clipped to his vest.

Alyssa covered her ears as the man methodically swept the barn with the huge gun, cutting down any shambler that got in his line of fire. Two additional gunmen swept in from the sides of the doorway, covering the large gunman in the center. Her ears rang as the high pitched whine of the machinegun drowned out the moans of the dead.

“Holy shit…” Taylor coughed as the ripped gunman slung the empty heavy machinegun over his shoulder and unsheathed his knife as he suddenly found himself surrounded by three of the undead. Using his palm, he thrust his hand forward causing one of the infected to stumble back uncoordinatedly. In the blink of an eye, he held the knife sideways and swung forward, stabbing the infected through the temple. Not wasting any time, he turned around and kicked another shambler in the knee. A sickening crunch was heard as the leg broke, brittle from calcium deprivation. The large man swung around as the infected fell to one knee, and took out the third advancing stench in a similar way to the first. Palm thrust, stab, one more dead bastard. As the infected with the broken leg attempted standing back up, the man grabbed its head and snapped its head with a quick twist of his meaty hands. So they were heavily armed and trained in hand-to-hand combat? Their “saviors” may have other intentions for them…

“All clear!” One of them below yelled, their voice somewhat muffled by the gas mask. The hairs on Alyssa’s arm were singed as the flames reached the ceiling. One of the support being collapsed after prolonged exposure to the fire. It came down with a crash, taking part of the ceiling with it. More of the morning sun spilled into the barn as a bit of the brackish smoke was released from the barn. Fiery embers fluttered down from all around as she saw one of these soldiers appearing behind Taylor, who was hovered over her with a look of concern on his tanned face. The soldier hoisted himself up from the ladder, the embers fluttering down all around him as he approached.

“Taylor!” Alyssa gasped with a burst of strength before coughing violently. Taylor swung around as the soldier held his hands up. This soldier wore a gas mask as well, causing his voice to also be muffled.

“Just remain calm, we’re going to get you out of here.” A wedding band on his hand glinted in the sun as he kept his hands up where they could see him. A modified M21 rifle was strapped to his back, and a shiny handgun at his side.

“Stay back!” Taylor snarled as he snatched up his rifle, the stock broken but the business end still working. Two rounds were still loaded in the gun, and he didn’t plan on going down without a fight.

“Don’t do it, son.” The soldier negotiated, tilting his hand slightly to the others below, as if giving an order to hold their fire. Alyssa’s head rolled to the side as she saw the third soldier aiming a rifle up at Taylor. A short black ponytail shooting out from the back of her mask indicated that a female was behind the mask.

“I said stay back!” Taylor barked, spittle flying from his lips as the masked gunman took another step forward.

“Look kid, it’d be in your best interests to lower that rifle, now.” Alyssa tried staying conscious, not wanting to leave Taylor alone. Something wet dripped down the side of her head, was that blood? Taylor held his ground, his face grim with content.

“I warned ya.” The masked gunman mumbled as he spun around and performed a roundhouse kick. His boot connected with the rifle, aiming it high at the ceiling as the gun went off. The crack of the rifle drowned out the crackling of the flames momentarily as the round blew a hole in the roof. Taylor stumbled back, not expecting the swiftness of the soldier. The gunman jumped in the air and performed a high kick, his boot cracking underneath Taylor’s jaw. Taylor choked as his back connected with a support beam, and the soldier spun around once more and drew his sidearm, placing the barrel underneath his chin.

“Ya done yet?” Taylor held up his hands in defeat.

“J-just don’t shoot, alright?” His voice cracked slightly as the man slowly lowered the gun.

“Don’t go pulling that shit again. Help me get her down.”

“It’s comin’ down, get out! Get out, now!” The massive man boomed below as he backed away. Alyssa’s chest heaved as she gasped for air, struggling for a breath of oxygen. Her eyes shot open as she took in a final breath of air, and saw the roof collapse. The soldier dove down, taking Taylor with him and shielding her with his body as the flaming roof collapsed all at once. Before the first of the burning wood hit, Alyssa blacked out.

Alyssa’s eyes shot open to the sound of a rifle. Each pop from the gun caused her head to throb immensely. The first thing she noticed was that her entire body ached. Cuts and bruises lined her arms, her shirt had small rips and tears. Sitting up, she saw the soldier that had shielded her firing his rifle, taking down shamblers from the distance as they made their way towards them. She saw that his entire uniform was covered in ash, his hair caked in it. A small patch on his arm caught her attention though. A skull with two scythes crisscrossed and flames surrounding it stood out on the uniform. On the bottom of the patch read Grimm Reaper.

She slowly sat up, rubbing her head as she tried finding Taylor. Ah, there he was. Taylor sat inside a large Chinook helicopter, his feet dangling outside the door as a relatively young woman dressed a wound on his arm. The helicopter looked like it had been to hell an back. A few bullet holes lined the body, a thick layer of dirt surrounded it along with a few deep crimson stains.

“Ah, you’re awake.” The soldier said as he lowered his rifle. “I was beginning to get worried.” The man looked around for a moment before sticking two fingers in his mouth and giving a short whistle. “Barnes! Take point.” The large man from earlier jogged over with the heavy machinegun in his hands, a real brute of a man.

“Hurry it up, we’re pullin’ out soon.” Barnes said.

“Yes sir.” The Grimm Reaper pulled free his gas mask, shaking his short hair and running a hand over his face as he pulled a cigarette from his vest. With the strike of a match, he lit up the cig and inhaled the smoke. Feeling relieved, he blew it from his nose.

“Who are you?” Alyssa asked, curious as to who her saviors were.

“Name’s Barron, Nick Barron. And you’re welcome.” He took in another puff of smoke, relishing the cool refreshment he got from it. Alyssa cocked an eyebrow, watching in wonder as the ripped soldier fired off a few rounds as a group of shamblers stumbled over the hill. He mowed them down indiscriminately, his face never flinching.

“Thank you… how can you just gun them all down?” She asked. Nick gave her an odd look.

“Excuse me?” He asked. Stop it, best not offend the people who just saved her life.

“I mean, doesn’t it even phase you?” Nick and Barnes both laughed at this, Nick taking another puff of smoke before replying.

“Lady, I’ve seen a lot of shit over this last year or so. I’ve seen grown men cry, I’ve seen weak men kill. My best friend ate a bullet as to not leave the burden to his friends. I’ve seen my own wife disemboweled and gruesomely murdered. Nothing phases me anymore… nothing.”