C18 Dawn

Sometime later, days or maybe just some hours, Markus opened his eyes. The oven had gone out and it had gotten cold again.

He needed a while until he realized where he was and why he was lying naked on a dirty blanket. He stood up with a groan and peed into a bucket standing beside the oven in one of the corners. Afterwards he put his clothes back on which reeked of brackish water and old blood.

His stomach was empty and he was hungry. And he had a burning thirst like after a night of partying. The laceration on his head was throbbing like crazy, but at least it was not bleeding anymore. Weak sunlight was streaming through the smeared window.

Hesitantly he wiped over the cold glass, peeking outside. Fog was lying over the Elbe’s lazy water, but the sunbeams were already fighting themselves through the tenacious mist, announcing another cold but beautiful winter day.

None of the dead were in sight and that surprised Markus a lot. He had expected them to be attracted by the smell of the fire and to come get the easy prey. But absolutely nothing was moving apart from some seagulls which were bobbing up and down on the water. But this could also only be sheer luck that the dead had forgotten about him. Better to keep on moving.

Carefully he opened the door, looking down at Nadja’s corpse which was still lying in front of the shed all covered in dew.

“Shit Nadja, I didn’t want this. I never wanted this. I hope you’re in a better world now.”

Her crushed head had no eyes anymore which he could close so he just threw the blanket over her body, kneeled beside her and quietly spoke a short prayer. When he was finished he suddenly realized that his backpack should still be down by the shore.

He got up too fast and felt dizzy, for a brief moment felt like he was about to blackout. Then he walked the few paces down to the water and for real his backpack was still lying in the sand bathed in water. And right beside it half covered by the sand his battle mace.

Markus remembered that Nadja had been carrying the weapon when the dead had overrun her. He looked around before he stepped out of the bushes. Nothing was moving, neither on his side nor on the other side. Hurriedly he pulled the backpack from the water and took the weapon, its head had started to rust already. Then he withdrew back to the shack.

Once inside he opened the soaked container, spreading his sparse equipment out on the floor in front of him, looking again and again at the blanket underneath which Nadja was lying. She must have brought the backpack this far, he could not think of any other explanation.

In addition to his crossbow there were some cereal bars and two small bottles of water. Greedily he opened the wrapping of one of the chocolate bars, stuffing the whole piece in his mouth. He emptied one of the small water bottles with one long gulp.

It felt damn good to feel the chilled drink running down his throat. Sitting with his legs crossed he ate the second chocolate bar considerably slower this time, and he was thinking.

Anyhow, he seemed to be on the other side of the river. This meant that apparently he had unintentionally overcome this natural obstacle. If he wanted to reach the south he had to move into the country’s middle where he would surely find an autobahn or a federal highway and their signs would guide him.

After that, he would just have to deal with one problem at a time. There was nothing left here to do for him, nor was there anything he could do for Nadja or Marie. Markus did not even want to think about Marie’s fate at all. So instead he stuffed everything back into the backpack, slid the battle mace through his belt and started to march without looking back. Meanwhile the sun had cast the fog away and its red glow made the wide fields, which were still covered with snow, radiate.

Markus simply marched cross country through snow-covered forests and plane meadows. It felt good to walk and soon he felt warm. Even his headache let up. Just his feet were cold and were hurting. But pain was good; what ached was still alive. There were no animals visible, not even one of those damn crows which were normally sitting on trees everywhere, eyeing him mockingly.

Thankfully, that also meant there were no monsters.

This was a forgotten country and he assumed that it had been already before. Wherever he was now, there seemed to be no life of any kind. Right now, that was all he could ask for.

His seemingly endless walk brought him to a farm which appeared on the horizon at some point. He did not know for how long he had been walking already. It simply did not matter to him. Markus enjoyed walking because while hiking he could organize his thoughts and the recent experiences, filing them into the intended drawers.

He preferred to think pragmatically, but it did not work out at first. But finally he managed to bring the experiences of the last days into a rough chronological order.

First, the infection which caused humans to attack each other. Interesting, however, was the following: The infected could distinguish between themselves and healthy humans, however that was possible. And the infection was at least transmitted by an exchange of body fluids.

Secondly, it was a fact that the infection definitely led to death. It seemed to be extremely, swiftly fatal.

Thirdly, the people who got infected and died came back to life having an insatiable greed for the flesh of the living even though it was not necessary for them to sustain their dead bodies nor did it serve any other purpose. But it was still a fact.

But the main question was whether all humans were infected already or just a few of them. Had Nadja carried the virus inside of her already when they met for the first time or did she get infected later on? One should not forget that the resurrected were medically speaking dead as doorknobs, starting to decay, but were still following this strange instinct regardless of their body‘s condition.

All of this was a monstrous insanity but Markus decided nonetheless to simply accept it and to not think about it anymore.

Oh, and yes, the tiny but not to be ignored fact that some of the infected gave orders to the dead like he had seen it with the doctor. This was another thing which seemed just too surreal to think more on it.

While he kept on walking deep in thoughts the ice-cold wind nearly cut the skin from his face and his lips burst open.

Like with one of those polar scientists, damn it.

He often caught himself looking around to make certain that Nadja was not following him. His thoughts wandered off to a report he had once seen about Stalingrad in the Second World War. Like the soldiers in that movie he also tried to protect his face with a scarf. Just his eyes were visible through a narrow slit.

Markus saw the images of the frozen people lying in the snow in strange positions, comparable to the victims of the volcano eruption at Pompeii. Death by cold and by extreme heat were similar in many ways. Maybe it would be the same for the resurrected soon as well and they would not pose a threat anymore, frozen in the cold and unable to move.

That was not a too far-fetched idea because the dead had already a cold body temperature and were adjusting to their environmental temperature and therefore they should sooner or later freeze or at least become slower.

At some point he realized that he was singing “It‘s a long way to Alabama” with a raspy voice and he could not remember anymore when he had started to do so.

It took a while until the farm was close enough to make out some details. Maybe he could rest there because the cold had crept underneath his clothes cooling him down noticeably. There were still no dead visible but Markus knew for sure that they were waiting for him somewhere out there. Maybe already behind this bush right over there.

Markus concentrated on the farm. The first details became visible. There was a timbered house which stood sideways and a big, considerably higher barn, which had been added alongside, its roof nearly reaching to the ground.

To the left was the mandatory still steaming dung heap and next to it two agricultural trailers. Nothing was moving except some crows sitting on the roof of the residential building, eyeing him suspiciously. Markus had asked himself already where those black birds had been hiding and saw it as a good sign that they had settled here.

When Markus came closer the old timbered house looked abandoned as well as the huge stable with its doors standing wide open. Apparently the owners had simply freed the animals when it had become clear that the threat was growing into an extensive catastrophe.

Inside the stable there was even some cow dung frozen to the ground. It even looked like somebody had tidied up to find it in a decent state after a short absence. Even the farm dog’s chain was lying neatly rolled-up beside the dog house and the bowls were standing vertically against the wall to avoid dirt from settling in them.

Markus would have done the same for sure because he always had a close connection with dogs and had owned some of them for half of his life. Markus asked himself what had become of the dog here and he could not imagine that the owners had just left him behind. Unfortunately there was no name written on the bowls but it must have been a bigger animal, a German Shepard or something similar.

The cold and his aching legs reminded him intensely that he urgently needed to warm up, so he turned towards the farm building. The snow covering the yard was undisturbed apart from some birds‘ footprints and his own, a small untouched snowdrift had even built up in front of the entrance door.

He pushed the handle down carefully. It was not locked. Then he entered the silent farm building and closed the door behind him again. As was to be expected three pairs of dark-green rubber boots were standing neatly arranged in the hallway and a huge grandfather clock was still ticking away the seconds. He felt secure right away. He inhaled deeply through his nose, probing the air, trying to figure out the different smells.

With a sense of smell which had been nearly extinguished by the asthma and the use of different medications over the years, his nose was still acute enough to differentiate between the deads‘ sweetish smell of decay and normal smells.

Dust was hovering in the air tickling his nose but he did not notice anything suspicious. So he continued with inspecting the house. The door to the right led to a spacious but plainly furnished kitchen. It smelled Christmassy of apples and cinnamon, even some Christmas decorations where hanging in the window.

Corpulent Santas and kitschy elks with red and white striped woolen hats. He found a note on the kitchen table which had been set for dinner. Carefully he took the note, swiping over the edge of one of the plates with his finger noticing the fine layer of dust which had settled on it.

Dear Jana,

Your grandpa doesn’t feel well at all. That’s why we have gone to the gathering point in Magdeburg, like you had already advised us to do a couple of days ago.

A neighbor had told us that there would be help for your grandpa. We took Hecktor with us. We let the cows out onto the pasture because we don’t know when we’ll be back. Please look after the animals temporarily and give them something to eat.

Please do not worry about us old people, they will take care of us and we’ll be back very soon. There’s a casserole in the fridge, the kind you like so much. We love you. See you soon.

Grandma and Grandpa

So the dog’s name was Hecktor. It was probably a German Shepherd. One look inside the fridge was enough to convince him that Jana had not come to eat the casserole. Hairs were already growing out of the blackish-green chunks in the big casserole dish.

So nobody was here anymore, but still the old people could not help themselves and left everything behind orderly. Even the beds were made and meticulously smoothed. When he closed his eyes he could literally see the old lady standing in front of him, running her palms over the cushion softly only stopping when it was completely smooth.

He had to smile when he thought of it and he felt reminded of his own grandmother. Downstairs, next to an old fashioned bath room with brown tiles and a plastic shower, he found a spacious living room containing a really huge couch and behind it a mighty oak cupboard which took up the whole wall. There was even a decorated Christmas tree in the corner.

He postponed any further inspections of the building to the next morning because meanwhile he could hardly move his legs anymore and the headache worsened by the second. It was simply enough for today and the house appeared to be quite safe.

He locked the front door and after a quick inspection of the windows he returned back to the living room and lay down on the comfortably looking couch. He had taken off his boots already in the hallway and had placed them beside the rubber boots forming a neat row. The couch was really soft and comfortable. He took his socks off and massaged his hurting feet which were still cold. Relieved, he noticed that the march probably would not entail any remaining damage and so he laid back into the soft cushions. At first he felt bad about sitting down on the nice seating furniture in his sweaty reeking stuff but it was still better than the neat beds upstairs in the bedroom.

It would simply not have been right to desecrate the clean beds with all his dirt and stench. He lost the battle against his heavy eyelids only seconds later and fell into an uneasy sleep.

The zombie appeared out of nowhere, attacking him right away! Plunging his rotten teeth into his neck! Where had that bastard come from all of a sudden?

Panic-stricken. Markus raised his arms up. Screaming like Hell he started up, hitting all around him like a madman, he had to rid himself of this beast. It took him a while until he had pushed it away and he realized that he had fallen from the couch and was now lying on the floor between the shifted cushions and the heavy oak table and that he was fighting his dreams.

No zombie on his chest, no splattering blood, and also no rotten breath. Just diffuse daylight seeping through the closed curtains. Markus was lying on his back breathing heavily, covered in sweat, shaking and listening.

Only after he was completely certain that everything was silent and that he could only hear the beating of his own heart did he crawl out from between the pieces of furniture and stood up.

It was maybe ten or eleven o’clock in the morning. His whole body was aching and his muscles were tense, his eyes were incrusted and his nose was closed up, a really fantastic start into a new day. But at least he was still alive.

Once again, a new day filled with grey clouds was waiting for him behind the curtains. He really needed to take a piss, so he dragged himself with shuffling feet to the bathroom. The oldfashioned mirror showed him an unshaved, dirty shape stuck in clothes filthy and covered in dried blood. Like a damn tramp, he thought while relieving himself.

Nadja’s blood was everywhere on his clothes. His head was aching horribly and his face seemed to have aged prematurely. He needed a bath really bad before he himself turned into a monster or other people might perceive him as such.

He needed to shave to recognize himself again. Of course there was no running water in the bathroom but yesterday he had seen a well with a manual pump in the yard all the way in the back between the barn and the residential building. If the well was not frozen he should be able to pump some water into a bucket in order to wash himself.

Markus slipped into the biggest pair of rubber boots and stepped outside. The boots were at least two sizes too large, but he did not care, it would work somehow.

Immediately the ice-cold wind was blowing cold air in his face. Cautiously he looked around but could not detect any danger. There was nothing there except the black birds which were still sitting on the roofs. Little damned assholes just waiting for another cadaver which they could hack into pieces with their strong beaks.

It did not matter; Markus only concentrated on the old pump and operated the long rusty lever. Shortly after crystal clear water was really bubbling out of the spigot. Tortured by his itching skin he took off his clothes without further ado in the yard and threw the dirty pieces on the ground and a piece of soap into the bucket and washed himself with a cloth he had found earlier on in the kitchen. The ice-cold water took his breath away but it felt damn good and finally reawakened his will to live.

Then he filled the bucket anew and took it to the bathroom because he had seen a shaving set in the mandatory mirror cabinet and he needed a mirror to shave. It hurt to scrape away the stubbles from his face using a blunt blade and cold water, but afterwards at least he recognized himself again, even though his face was badly cut up. Shortly after, he was sitting at the kitchen table eating crisp bread spread with homemade marmalade from the storage, wearing fresh hiking pants and a wool pullover, which he had taken from the closet.

Markus had to think about Nadja, her death had been so senseless and he also thought about the little Marie. Abruptly he shook his head to chase away those thoughts because they did not lead to anything and did not help him in any way.

He had to get away from here and go to Speyer. Nothing else was important right now. But for that he had to reach the southern border behind which the world was still in order and the system was still functioning.

This system always existed, like in the movies where there were always some GI Joes with great weapons jumping out from helicopters to save the world. Provided that some American citizens had been involved and who had to be saved.

The belief in this border was exactly the energy he needed to continue. And his faith that Annette was still alive, waiting for him in their apartment. Saddened, he pulled her crumbled picture out from his pocket and stared at it for a long time.

Beyond the border everything would still be the same, there would be shops, schools and bars, where people meet up and drank beer. Even though he had hated, yes, even had despised some of it before the catastrophe, it still provided safety and had guaranteed that the people would come home alive after the daily shopping trip.

At noon he was sitting on the barn’s snow covered roof, systematically searching the area with a pair of binoculars he had found in the big dresser in the living room. The grey sky was preventing the day to brighten and the snow covered fields were stretching endlessly no matter where he looked.

On the horizon a few kilometers down the Elbe river a city seemed to be burning. So that was the reason for the red gleam of light in the night. Sometimes one could even see huge tongues of flames licking greedily into the smoky black sky. This could only be Magdeburg because he really could not imagine that he had been floating down the river much farther and more importantly that he had passed by this inferno.

Markus sat astride on the ridge, thinking. Therefore, Frankfurt had to be southwest from here. To the right side of the farm was a small highway, tracks on the other side and if he was not mistaken he thought he could see the raised lane of an autobahn or at least a federal highway with four lanes really far out. Thus his next destination was found and he climbed down from the roof. He spent the next several hours with inspecting the farm extensively. He caught himself talking to himself every time he found something new or at least halfway interesting, and he was explaining the things to himself and what he could do with them.

He found an old rusty delivery van inside the barn which actually started up after a couple of tries. He certainly would get around with it. He spent the remaining day with loading the vehicle with groceries, blankets and a mattress because he wanted to leave really early the next morning. Finally, he placed a gas camping stove into the car. Satisfied with his work he retreated into the house at dusk. Unbelievable how fast the day had flown by. He would be on his way first thing tomorrow morning.

The farm was emitting this sense of security which was typical for buildings of this kind, which Markus knew from his own home, and which were conveying safety.

Markus was aware that it was only a dangerous illusion but still it felt good to let go. Even his features relaxed increasingly. Dinner was as plain as breakfast had been and eventually he stood, with a glass of red wine, in front of the commode in the living room, looking at the family pictures which were set up there.

Ideal world, where have you ended up?

People would never again be laughing into cameras that naive and freely, children would never again be running around over the meadows or would be playing at the edge of the forest without being watched because the fear of the walking dead would be branded inside the survivors‘ heads forever. All that was assuming mankind would even succeed in containing this disease at all.

Quickly he banished those gloomy thoughts from his head again and was getting ready for the night. All this thinking only made him feel insecure and made him lose hope. He was not used to the all-encompassing silence in the house and it was rushing in his ears. He was rolling around nervously, listening again and again but did not hear anything until he finally fell into an uneasy sleep many hours later.

A few times he woke up tortured by nightmares, sweaty and his whole body was shaking. It was always the same dream which repeated itself over and over again in an endless loop. In it he saw himself coming home. Annette was standing in the hallway, her back turned towards him. Her long black hair was hanging loosely over her back and she was wearing those black clothes she liked so much. He walked towards her right away, finally wanted to take is beloved wife into his arms again and wanted to hug her tightly, like they always did as a greeting. She turned around as she heard his steps, and looked at him with the same dead eyes in which he had looked already when Nadja had been dead.

Again and again he told himself that it was just a bad dream, that he would take Annette in his arms soon again. After all, only a few more hundred kilometers separated them.

The dream always ended with her closing the distance between them frightfully fast and that he suddenly was looking into her wide open throat.

Deep inside he was incredibly afraid that it could really be exactly like in his dream. That everything was for nothing. But there was only one way to find out, to gain certainty and therefore it was necessary to get home as fast as possible.

He fell asleep again shortly after and woke up worn down and tired between the rumpled blankets in the early morning. At once he was taken by a strange kind of tension because the departure was close at hand. That was why he climbed onto the barn roof once again during the first light of this young day, to have another look at the surroundings.

He was all by himself and should not take any risk because he knew that even the tiniest of mistakes could be lethal. And this time there was nobody who could help him out of a tight spot.

In this new world survival basically depended on the ability of making the right choice. There was no maybe, no what if, no second chance and most of all no turning back. So he stared through his binoculars, searching the area. Magdeburg was still burning, of course. He had the feeling that the flames were blazing even higher than yesterday.

As he kept searching the wide fields systematically he noticed something strange which was different from his last observation. At first he thought it was a huge flock of sheep or maybe some other animals, horses maybe or the cows from the old peoples‘ stables.

But as he zoomed in the picture with his binoculars he was seized by ice-cold dread, which destroyed with one single brutal blow his illusion of safety which he had felt inside this farmstead.

These were no animals which had flocked together and were now drawing closer slowly because the wintry meadows were not satisfying their hunger anymore. These were zombies withdrawing in huge groups from the city and now moving across the fields. Groups of about a hundred to a thousand creatures, driven from the city by the fire.

Markus asked himself if those creatures had something like a flock intelligence like fish or birds. He had often observed their behavior when he was out in the fields with his dog. The ascending birds always had managed to change direction at the same time as if by command. So, those creatures had to possess a certain kind of intelligence which enabled them to distinguish between dead tissue and living flesh and which forced them to flock together and to march in the same direction. Markus assumed that they would reach the farm in the evening the latest, the first ones maybe earlier. He did not waste any more time watching this drama and slid down from the roof, threw his backpack together with the remaining stuff in the transporter, and drove off. He left a note on the kitchen table with his name and a list of all the things he had taken.

Maintain some manners and civilization, at least a spark of it and stay human.

He would visit this old couple when everything was normal again to pay his debt and to have a pleasant hot cup of coffee and some cake with them. At least he was planning on doing so, it was a nice thought after all. Just trying to remain a human being helped a lot these days.

And now he was back on the road. His way led him up the country road for a while, in order to turn on to the dirt road which he had seen from the barn roof heading in the direction of the autobahn.

Shortly after, he had reached the tracks. But it took him another quarter of an hour before he found a suitable spot to cross the snow covered tracks without the risk that the vehicle would get stuck.

Some of the dead were on one of the fields, and were currently eating the cadaver of a perished cow. One of them had drilled himself halfway into the cadaver’s gaping stomach and was completely covered with a dark substance. Let them eat the animals as long as they left him alone instead.

He asked himself what those things would devour once there was no living being left to hunt, but banished these thoughts from his head quickly. The pictures which were summoned were simply to disgusting.

Instead he watched the crows flying up to the creatures again and again, picking pieces of their grey flesh from their heads. The creatures were striking out at the birds angrily, even trying to catch them. It seemed to be a funny game for the birds and the trained animals skillfully avoided the zombies’ clumsy blows becoming increasingly bolder by doing so.

Closer and closer they flew past the dead, becoming more reckless and were now also trying to catch their hands and shoulders, everything which was not covered by clothes. Suddenly one of the scumbags had grabbed a loudly protesting crow directly in mid air and the bird was defending itself by violently hacking using its mighty beak. Not impressed the creature quickly bid the bird’s head off and started devouring the entire animal, feathers and all.

Disgusted, Markus concentrated on the road ahead again. The dead would probably slowly drain the world of all food reserves. What would become of the animals eating flesh from these unholy creatures? Would they get infected and transform into the same bloodthirsty creatures or was the virus just dangerous for human beings? What about pets which were dependent on the humans‘ care and treatment?

Most of them would probably die a painful death in their cages and in the closed up apartments because one thing was for sure, there was no chance for a rescue any time soon. Not everyone thought as far ahead like the two old people had done opening the doors for their animals. It was chance that decided between life and death.

Nature is merciless in the way of its selection.

The snow covered dirt roads were bumpy and they brought him back from his thoughts repeatedly with heavy bumps. He had to be damned careful not to end up with a broken axle or a flat tire because this could very well mean his end.

Those things were not fast but in their vast numbers incredibly dangerous and in their manner determined to keep on moving forward. He only had to remind himself how he had just managed to escape them a couple of days ago. Those monsters neither felt the cold nor pain and let alone fatigue. They did not need to rest and apparently they do not need any sleep either. The best thing was to simply keep on moving. Markus exhaled relieved as he turned onto a paved country road close to a little forest which led straight to the autobahn and beneath it. To the left a small road led up to the lane and ended just before the guide rails.

Markus stopped the car, got out, and looked around. An image of chaos revealed itself in front of him. The road coming from Magdeburg was totally blocked, the huge traffic jam was leading all the way back to the city and continued as far as the horizon into the other direction as well. The people had simply tried to get away as fast as possible and had walked directly into a trap.

Many of the cars were wedged into each other, some of them were even burned out. It would take weeks to get everything back in order. Markus could see restless shadows here and there behind the smeared windows. The dead were trying to get out of their vehicles by repeatedly executing the same monotone movements. Apparently, they were too stupid to release the seatbelts.

The other lane was completely free. That was his way, he only needed to remove the guide rails in order to get moving. Markus opened the transporter’s side door and got the heavy sledgehammer. As he hit for the first time it banged so loudly that even a swarm of crows got startled. The birds were protesting loudly and were spreading themselves onto the surrounding bushes. He himself was also so shocked about it that he immediately dropped the hammer and cowered behind the guide rails. The bang must have been audible kilometers away.

He imagined how at this instance the army of monsters stopped in their tracks, orientating themselves based on the noise in order to shuffle towards their target as one man. Uncertain he rattled the guide rail which of course did not budge even a millimeter.

Screw it, he thought, there was no other way and turning back was not an option.

If he wanted to survive he had to get on the autobahn. Markus knew that time was working against him and he forced himself to think pragmatically banishing every emotion in the furthest corner of his brain. Like he was always doing when there were problems.

So he raised the hammer and now one hit followed the other. He tried to always strike at the same spot next to the screws which affixed the guide rail tightly to the pillar. Gradually his efforts showed some results and the metal sheet loosened.

As he swiped the sweat from his forehead after a few minutes of hard work, he looked around and thought to see movement near the cars further away. Quickly, the shadows turned into bodies. The first decaying bodies were squeezing through the wedged cars coming his way. He grabbed the hammer and like someone being obsessed started hitting the damned guide rail, which shook already in its support but did not fall, yet.

The dead drew closer with their contemptuous calmness as if they knew that they had all the time in the world. Sweat was running down Markus’ neck in streams because there was only this one chance. If he wanted to survive he had to remove this guide rail before those things would reach him. For how long could a human being endure this permanent pressure? The pressure of constantly being on the run, to always face this overpowering enemy, just like right now?

It was only a matter of time before he made the wrong choice or would fail a task and that would be it. Maybe the time had come today, here and now. But then there was a singing sound with which the guide rail finally detached from one side teetering downward. Even though it was hard Markus did not waste another gaze at the monsters, threw the hammer to the side and pulled at the guard rail with all his might to get enough room for the transporter to pass through. Half of the vehicle’s width was free already when two of those things appeared just several meters away between two burned out SUVs.

They were middle aged men, one was wearing the brown stained working clothes of a home and garden center, the other one a coat hanging from him in shreds from which white filling oozed out. Markus thought briefly why this man wore a coat at all. The guy snarled maliciously and bared his teeth in his completely skinned face without any lips. Do not panic now!

Markus cursed loudly and ran to car, got behind the wheel and turned the key hectically. But instead of starting up nicely, the engine merely spat loudly coughing black smoke out of the exhaust. He had feared that something like this would happen.

“Shit, shit, shit!” Markus hissed shaking the steering wheel furiously, as if that would change anything. Outside the dead grimaces with wide opened mouths were coming closer constantly, driven by their hope for fresh, steaming flesh. As if they were making fun of his vain attempts to run.

The second start attempt followed. The creatures were already extending their dried hands to the car groping at the windows looking for an opening. This time the engine did not disappoint him. Rattling, the engine came to life.

Markus hit the gas pedal right away driving towards the guide rail which was hanging sideways. He had to push the rail aside with his vehicle in the hope that it would not slide underneath the van and tear off the oil pan. The metal squeaked loudly as bumper and guide rail collided.

He took his chance and floored it and the engine roared agonized. It took way too long for comfort’s sake but the damn thing finally gave in. Again and again he was looking through the windows for the zombies. The first monster stood already at the passenger door, awkwardly hitting the window with its blackened hands, staring maliciously at him out of milky white eye sockets.

At this sight, Markus had to think of Nadja. This monster had its mouth wide open as well and its tongue was moving hectically back and forth over the broken tooth stumps. Its hair had fallen out in tufts like with a victim of radiation. The dead were changing more and more. While they were relatively human and just simply dead in the beginning, they meanwhile had changed into wild beasts and not only due to the continuing decay. To Markus their teeth seemed longer than before now and he was not certain if this was merely caused by the retreated gums. And the purulent substance which was apparently swelling out of all bodily orifices was also under no circumstances normal.

But now was not the time to examine the monsters‘ anatomy more closely. He had to leave and rather fast. The thing made an angry rattling sound, got louder and finally started hissing. Bad smell was coming into the vehicle’s interior through the air vents. More creatures joined in and were motivated by it even more to besiege the car faster.

In the back a zombie was drumming against the sheet metal of the loading space, vociferously hitting dents into the wall. Meanwhile the asshole at the front door was pressing its ugly grimace against the window, trying to smash it with its head, leaving nothing but purulent run marks on the window. If the window gave in it would mean the end of Markus’s escape.

The transporter kept pushing forward bit by bit and the metal was squeaking until finally there was a vicious jerk and the vehicle rushed forward onto the lane in some sort of liberating jump.

Immediately Markus steered the transporter onto the open lane and floored it, the engine roaring. His friend at the passenger door did not want to lose his prey and was clawing to the exterior mirror but could not keep up with the acceleration, tumbled and hit the road hard, still holding the mirror in his hands. His mouth left a long trace of purulent slime on the passenger side window. Only now did Markus see that it were around thirty monsters which had meanwhile gathered around his vehicle.

“Today is not the day I die. Do you get it, you assholes, hm? Not today, not yet!”

He did not see how the monsters were streaming onto the road, walking after him in their mindless routine. Deathless horrors, in no hurry to kill him.

Why should they be? Time was on their side.