[4-14] The Town

[Kenpachi Zaraki]

Sniper and feline barreled through the door-less ingress, overworked limbs desperate to remove them from the grasp of the plagued horde. No sooner had they crossed the threshold than a second jolt of panic struck them; dozens of afflicted humans stumbled from the various offices and cubicles as though on their way to a mid-day meeting with the now-dead producer. They moved in unison, decaying flesh splitting as their cloudy eyes turned to focus on the fleeing twosome. Under the meager glow of the dim, flickering fluorescent office lighting, Nanaki could finally see the fiends for what they were; or rather, what they had become. What remained of their clothing hung tattered and torn from their emaciated bodies, flesh like a wet paper bag splitting to reveal the discolored ivory beneath. Taut tendons and ligaments caused them to move with jerky, unsteady movements as they hastened toward Christa and her feline companion. 

“Fuck!” Christa growled with exasperation, taking hold of a nearby mail cart and forcing it into the gut of the nearest walker with the full might that her lone arm supplied. Letters and small packages were knocked airborne as the trolley toppled over and skidded onto its side, carrying the thrashing zombie back into the incoming mob and trapping him beneath it. The undead cretin’s comrades took no mind of his dilemma, surging forward over the downed flesheater with hunger and desperation in their eyes. The huntress wheeled around, spying a smoldering rot-man in pursuit from the Executive Office. “Red, look out!”

Nanaki turned on a dime, reacting with enough time to fall low on his forelimbs, throwing his powerful musculature into a back-kick that sent the fire-addled fiend airborne. The charred undead fell upon the rest of the pursuers, toppling the disorganized huddle of his compatriots attempting to force their fetid bodies through the doorway. The burgundy beast ignored the aching of his re-opened wounds, returned his gaze to the battle’s forefront to watch as Christa’s newest weapon separated an attacker from his legs at the knee. From his angle Red could see little but a gaggle of repugnant torsos, before him though he knew roughly where their exit would lie. Thinking quickly, he shot his golden eye skyward, standing stock-still as he channeled his magicka. “Get down and cover your eyes!” the panther snarled, closing his own velvet eyelids and opening his fanged maw. At a moment’s notice a softball-sized ball of plasma sparked to life, rocketing blindly upward at an oblique angle and smashing into the overhead lighting. Glass shattered as the mercury-vapor quickly ionized, a blinding flash flaring across the level. The diseased legion’s bony hands clamped over their scorched optics as crystal shrapnel rained from above. “Go!”

The blonde needn’t have been told, already knocking blinded foes away with her gore-drenched gladius as they forced their way down the hallway toward the stairwell. Filthy digits, worn to the bone, clawed at the living as they muscled through, desperately reaching for what they hoped could glut their ever-present lust. Christa cried out in a mixture of disgust and rage as supernaturally strong talons wrapped around her good wrist, threatening to pull her into the ravenous throng. Whatever pox had befallen the village had granted them strength beyond humanity, with voracity to match. Such hunger Nanaki could imagine, though he’d be damned if he were to allow the huntress to fall. Throwing both caution and reason to the wind, the burgundy beast turned and thrashed through the crowd, colliding with her captor with enough force to tear the limb from its mangled socket. She grasped the lonely zombie limb by the wrist, ripping its now-limp grip free. “No!” she cried out, brandishing her blade with reckless abandon in the direction that feline had departed, spraying repugnant gore as she shredded zombie flesh. “Nanaki!”

Amid the sea of ravenous corpses, Red tensed his brawn, ignoring the feeling of jagged phalanges attempting to tear at his pelt. “Run!” the feline roared, turquoise energy rising from his body like steam, causing those in contact to cry out and recoil as if burned. Before the blonde could reply in opposition to his command, the lion bounded from the carpeted floor, his mako-augmented frame toppling corpses like bowling pins. The burgundy beast could feel his body’s resistance to such a maneuver, but he could not heed it, instead pushing forward through the hungering mob with every ounce of energy he could muster. Spying her companion’s beryl blitz through the crowd, the gunslinger followed in his wake, plying the blinded pursuers with strikes and sword slashes until they finally reached the doorway. No sooner had they arrived at their mark than they realized their folly; the sounds of frenzied clamor and voracious gurgling met their ears as the undead tide surged up the stairs.

“Elevator!” Christa called desperately over the cacophony, grabbing a handful of her companion’s pelt and tugging his transfixed body away from the stairwell. Red reckoned that even the dulcet tunes of muzak would not calm him in this moment, though as the frantic woman had a death-grip on his fur, he was obliged to follow. 

“I hope you know what you’re doing!” Red growled over the groaning masses. Though he doubted the broken lift would provide them much respite, he trusted the woman completely. With each having saved the other’s life repeatedly over the past day or so, this was no surprise. He silently hoped that perhaps she had taken elevator-repair courses.

The mosh pit of blinded ghouls had begun to redouble their efforts, following the sounds of the pair’s banter as they closed in on their prey. Although they were mere feet from the bloody, dented doors of the elevator, the veritable wall of rotting meat made the journey feel endless. Juking around the lunge of yet another animated dead, Nanaki watched as Christa plunged her sword through the softened cranium of a walking cadaver, shattering the fiend’s skull like an eggshell and tearing her weapon skyward, painting the ceiling with the crimson yolk. The feline could sense her motions slowing as they burned the candle at both ends, working desperately to escape with their lives. Mercifully, their last victim had left the way clear, allowing the pair to finally reach the end of the hallway, backs against the literal wall as the horde pressed forward. Christa darted toward the open elevator doors, jamming the buttons as if they would respond to her desperation. The lion made to follow, strafing to avoid the blind grab of fetid fingers. He opened his maw as he neared the lift, aiming a Fira spell at the water cooler as he stumbled into the car, sending a mist of super-heated water and molten plastic spraying over the horde. As the sultry sounds of elevator music filtered through his ears, Red only hoped this could buy them the time they needed.

“All the vampires walkin' through the valley move west down Ventura Boulevard...”

“Fuck!” Christa cried out for what felt like the fiftieth time. She jabbed at the wall of buttons aggressively, as if trying desperately to avoid an annoying coworker after a conference call. As Red finally entered the car, she dropped her blade to rest upon the lift’s plush carpet, letting her rifle slide fluidly from her shoulder and into her outstretched hand. She moved quickly to the center of the car, holding the rifle before her, muzzle-up, like one might to look upon a dear child. She paused for an instant, calculating her shot.

“And all the bad boys are standing in the shadows, all the good girls are home with broken hearts...”

“Hold on!” she boomed as the undead began to force their way into the compartment. With a deafening crack she pulled the trigger, firing a high-caliber slug into the ceiling. As if to answer, a thunderous boom called out from overhead a split-second later, as gravity began to reclaim them. Weightlessness overtaking them, the car seemed to fall quiet, save for the drone of the elevator’s speakers.

“And I'm free, free fallin'...”

Nanaki felt his stomach rise into his throat at the car dropped like a ton of bricks, shearing the gaggle of partial-entrants in twain and filling the car with a revolting pile of gore and miscellaneous body parts. Putrid plasma sprayed over the car’s tacky wallpaper and doused the lift’s chrome in brown-red polish. Ungodly screeching met the duo’s ears as the car ground against the inside of the shaft, sparks flying through the jammed-open doors. Desperate, the burgundy beast laid as flat to the blood-soaked carpet, mimicking the gunslinger as they attempted to minimize fall damage. Just as Red began to wonder if they’d survive the eight-story fall, the car began to slow. The floor beneath them issued a loud wheeze as the breaks engaged, stifling their breakneck descent to a more manageable rate. Finally, with a loud thud, the compartment rebounded against the shaft’s buffer, stalling their descent completely.