C20 A new companion

The dog showed no intention of coming any closer. As Markus’s knee started hurting he got up and walked back inside the building but he held the door firmly open with one hand looking at the dog invitingly.

The dog tilted its head sideways as if it was pondering on the new situation, then he got up and quickly trudged through the door, keeping however a safe distance to Markus. It then stopped in the hallway and looked at the surprised man. The dog bared its teeth for a brief moment while sneaking by, making it clear that they should keep their distance from each other at least for now.

Markus was well accustomed to this behavior and knew how to handle it. Probably the dog had made its experiences the last few days as well and it just wanted to be on the safe side, just like Markus did. That was only all too understandable, so Markus closed the door and made his way upstairs without further acknowledging the dog.

It was not easy to suppress the urge to simply walk up to the animal and to touch it. An animal, which was longing for his company and not currently trying to kill him.

The dog’s gaze told the same story. However, it kept its safe distance and came only reluctantly closer driven by his curiosity or more likely because it was hungry.

Upstairs Markus went into the kitchen, cleared the table and threw everything unceremoniously into the sink. Then he took his backpack out and spread the meager provisions onto the table. It was about time to eat something because his stomach was empty and he had this disgusting bland taste in his mouth, the kind of flavor one always gets when one had not eaten in a long time.

The pathetic remains of his provisions were now lying in front of him and they were even less than he had thought. Starting tomorrow already he would have to look for new supplies. It was hard getting used to rationing the food and to constantly expect to run out of supplies.

He had suppressed taking care of it the last couple of days and eating irregularly was upsetting his stomach. A visit to the pharmacy to refill his medications would not be missing from his shopping list.

But tonight he would indulge himself with a feast. In the flickering light of two candles he opened the last can of ravioli and thanks to those old folks and their lovely farm, there would be preserved peaches for dessert. To top the whole thing off, Markus had the remaining red wine. And that was already something special.

It felt good to stretch the hurting legs under the table and to stare into the candles’ flames. Meanwhile the dog had settled down by the kitchen entrance not letting him and especially the opened can out of sight. Facing the dog, Markus filled the ravioli into a ceramic bowl which he had taken from the kitchen cabinet, took a seat at the table and started eating the cold food with pleasure.

He only just noticed now how hungry he really had been. The breaks in between meals, which he had bridged with a chocolate bar, were simply too long. The stuff tasted horrid and soothing at the same time and was filling up his stomach noticeably. The dog fixated on the food and was licking his muzzle hungrily.

Despite his hunger Markus did not eat all of it because he still had to bait the dog. Almost indifferently he placed the bowl beside himself on the ground and started spooning the peaches directly out of the can. And in contrast to the previous mush they were a real delight.

It was the first time in many days that something tasted so good he literally gobbling it. The dog sat there waiting. Only when Markus got up and walked towards the window, red wine in hand, did the dog stand up soundlessly and sneak to the bowl.

Markus did not turn around but could hear the loud smacking sounds with which the dog was eating his meal, delighted. Slowly the tension left Markus’s face making room for a weak smile because he had found a new companion. Now he was not alone anymore.

The following morning, he crawled from underneath the colorful seat covers which had served as a bivouac and were now scattered everywhere on the ground after a rough night. This stuff had not really warmed him and he felt clammy. Exhale, then the spray three times, that was his ritual after waking up. But at least he had slept some even if he had thought it not possible.

Meanwhile the building had cooled down due to the missing heating system. In addition, the dampness was crawling into the rooms building up condensation on the windows from where it was running down and was building little puddles. Not long before the first mildew would form and afterwards the first buildings would become uninhabitable rather fast.

The decay of the abandoned buildings had already started and it would speed up even more in several weeks when it got warmer again.

Markus was looking around for his new friend first thing. As was to be expected the dog was lying by the door and lifted its head when Markus was stretching himself with cracking bones.

Tired, he ran his hand over his stubbly face, by doing so he was creating a noise which sounded remotely like coarse sandpaper. It was hard to tell which was rougher, his face or his callused palms. Like a general he was standing at the windows a short time later, searching the runway with his binoculars, in his hands a cup of steaming coffee, which he had heated up using the last gas from his heater.

The fog had cleared away already a long time ago making room for a heavy grey sky. Markus felt dirty and his shoulders were aching, a pain which not even the hot beverage could ease.

Besides that he needed to relieve himself again. As the toilet was out of the question he went into the office, Markus emptied a plant pot and took care of himself in this unconventional manner. He was back at his post shortly after.

A heavy wind had come up which let the flags flutter with a rattling sound in front of the car rental. Apparently it was getting warmer. Some of the nearby creatures were scrimmaging all the way in the back at the barrier fence, walking alongside of it without an obvious target. They were probably in search of an entrance, provided that they were even able to think that far.

Nothing was moving on the runway itself but Markus believed anew that he could see movements in the cockpit of the Bundeswehr plane which stood at the front. He zoomed in and was now concentrating on the foremost angular window. Gradually the details of its interior became clearer and the source of the movements pared itself from the cockpit’s darkness.

There really was something going on. First, Markus saw the pilot. He was hanging in his safety belts motionless and bent forward and was therefore disqualified as the cause. For the moment at least. If Markus had learned anything than that the circumstances of people who were allegedly dead could change within seconds. His binoculars panned to the copilot’s side. There, the copilot was sitting, strapped in tightly as well. With puppet-like movements he was bending forward towards his companion time and time again, each time biting huge pieces of meat out of the pilot’s upper body, pulling at the meat like a starving coyote. The gnawed bone, which bobbed back and forth like a wooden stick with each bite, was the only thing which was left off the pilot’s arm.

Disgusted, Markus placed the binoculars on the window sill and inhaled deeply. It was hard getting used to such scenes, to all this blood and the permanent presence of death and doom. It would only be a matter of time before it would be too much for him to handle and he would either loose his mind or commit suicide only to escape this sight.

The dog caught his attention by silently whimpering. The grey guy had followed him to the kitchen on silent paws, but still kept its distance. Breakfast consisted of the last salami, packed in tinfoil, which looked like shriveled fingers and would probably also taste that way, and some cookies from the gas station to go with it, which Markus shared brotherly with his new comrade.

After Markus had looked out of the window one more time and was certain that no dead things were lurking close by, he went downstairs and opened the door for the dog so that it could do its business as well.

Once again he had the image in front of his eyes of his own dog which had died two years ago. A red knee high female with short fur. Wonderful moments were popping into his head, walks between wheat fields and in green, dense woods. That was his thing to clear his head and to escape the thoughts of daily life. Just to enjoy the animal‘s joy for life and watch it running around enjoying itself.

He had even been out with the dog in the middle of the night many times. He liked the night‘s solitude and the rustling of the wind in the trees.

Everything was introverted at night. One could let the thoughts wander to another world, which would be a better one than the one he found himself in. A short trip to his inner world; that was what he liked to call it. Even if everything got back to the way it used to be, he did not think that he would ever wander into the darkness again without any fear and without permanently looking around him.

Coming back to the real world, Markus realized that he had to piss again. It was probably this damned coffee‘s fault because he simply was not used to it anymore. This time the cleaning bucket underneath the stairs had to do because not even all the wild horses in the world could drag him to use the blood smeared toilet. It truly had gotten warmer outside. It was as if spring announced itself with a cold drizzle.

The dog had done its thing and had started exploring the closer environment and was digging in the snow here and there. Suddenly it raised its head and looked intensely across the runway. Had it smelled the dead? Markus was wide awake right away.

There was nothing visible on the ground which could have attracted the animal‘s attention but when Markus looked up he could detect a small black dot which, accompanied by a deep buzzing sound, was drawing closer slowly. Markus turned around on his heels and rushed into the kitchen. There his binoculars were still standing on the window sill. Stunned, he grabbed the piece and put it to his eyes.

Meanwhile the dot had gotten bigger and was approaching at high speed. It took him endless seconds before he could catch this darn thing in the sky through his binoculars. The black dot was actually dark-gray and it turned out to be a heavy four engine transport plane which was apparently in the process of landing. Its two outer propellers were not spinning anymore. The plane was flying a stretched right turn and in circling reduced its altitude.

Excited Markus observed the plane extending its landing gear and how its landing flaps were moving. His mouth was so dry that he started licking his lips.

It was getting more vivid at the fence as well because the monsters had seen the plane as well of course and were now gathering in huge numbers only to press their grimaces against the security fence. Entire hordes were now pouring in from the autobahn, jousting for the last first row seats. Markus was not sure how long the fence would withstand this kind of pressure.

For now, his thoughts circled back to the plane which was more important now. The plane was so low by now that it would be ready to finally touchdown after the last long turn. Excited, Markus turned away from the window, reached for his crossbow in passing and stormed outside, fixated on the plane.

He nearly fell over the dog which had followed him. Nothing else was import anymore; the plane was the only thing that counted. The completely unexpected prospect of being rescued from this hell was the only thing that mattered now. He already imagined himself sitting in the plane, surrounded by soldiers, holding a plastic cup with steaming coffee in his hands, high above in the clouds and most importantly in safety. It was a perfect mental image, being far away from the ground and all these monsters.

Once outside he was sliding over the icy wet snow, the mud splattering underneath his feet. Forgetting all the danger he was running like a mad man across the runway. Suddenly he lost his balance, could not catch himself and fell down heavily like a wet sack on his right shoulder. The impact drove all the air from his lungs. The crossbow twirled through the air and landed, crashing to the ground a few meters away.

Then something nearly impossible happened. Chirping loudly the weapon discharged, sending the arrow on its way. Burning pain passed through Markus’ right leg. Cursing loudly and with a queasy premonition Markus felt for his hurting leg before noticing that the damned arrow had grazed his thigh.

He could not believe it. The pants were ripped open neatly, underneath the skin gaped and blood was sputtering. “Fucking shit, bloody bullshit. Unbelievable. This cannot be!”

Angrily he uttered these words, still starring at the wound in disbelief. But he did not have much time to think about it. Roaring, the transport plane’s huge black shadow landed on the runway, dragging twirling snow contrails behind it.

Markus tried to get up but his right leg gave away underneath him and clumsily he fell back into the mud. Behind him he heard the dog’s loud barking. Suddenly everything was simply too much for him. Plane, dog, injury. Somehow everything was getting out of hand at the moment. The engines roared as the pilot switched to reverse thrust and the machine, which was still moving far too fast, started lurching from side to side.

A clean landing certainly looked different than this.

Markus started crawling backward because he suddenly had a really bad feeling about the next few seconds. In the process his leg left a thin red trace behind in the muddy snow.

The machine’s thunder was ear deafening by now, the brakes were screaming and were apparently grasping into nothing on the icy runway. The transport plane grew into a dark wall, growing mightier and was piling up in front of him like a malicious storm front. Markus could recognize the pilots already and how they were staring at him looking white as sheets. The machine jerked to its side and was now skidding sideways towards the huge tanks located at the left side of the car rental building, gigantic bright orange signs on them pointing out that the content was a flammable explosive liquid.

Kerosene. Of course. Of course the out-of-control aircraft was heading straight for the huge tanks of kerosene.

The plane’s right landing gear caved under the pressure and snapped to the side like a matchstick. Its wing was shrieking over the asphalt, emitting sparks only a second later.

Markus’s brain had switched to slow-motion mode. Crazy with fear, he kept crawling through the mud, simply trying to get away, to get anywhere, just away from there. But he was basically just a spectator in all of this and completely at the mercy of the now raging forces. What would come next was inevitable.

Dragging a deep furrow through the asphalt behind it the rim of the wing only grazed past his feet at a distance of five or six meters at the most. The men in the cockpit were wearing orange coveralls and white pilot helmets. Their mouths were moving, opening and closing, like the ones of the monsters. Then the plane had passed him and vanished in the stirred up snow.

It was like inhaling before the grand finale. A bright lightning bolt flickered through the air, followed by a deafening detonation as an intro to the inferno. Then came the shock wave which threw Markus across the ground for a several meters.

He hit the tarmac hard with his face. It rained smoldering debris everywhere, followed by a scorching heat which melted the snow instantly. Lying on his back he saw the sight of a burning inferno in front of him. Only the plane’s left wing and its rear were visible. They were standing straight upwards like warning fingers.

Blazing flames were roaring above the tanks and the remains of the machine, surging high into the sky. Burning liquid was spilling into all directions. Only half of the car rental building remained, the rest remained silhouetted in bright flames.

Spitting blood, Markus pulled himself up on his knees and was trying to ignore the burning pain in his leg. The fire burned the oxygen around him, stars were wildly dancing in front of his eyes and it seemed as if there was no air in his lungs. With difficulty and under great pain he really managed to get on his feet because he knew that he had to get away from there as fast as possible.

It hissed loudly inside the flames time and time again and once again there were smaller deflagrations and explosions. It was a small miracle that none of the debris had hit him.

Cumbersome he rummaged the snow-covered crossbow out of the dirt and hung it across his back. The only exit out of this hell was the parking lot where the rental cars were parked. He had to reach it and he had to hope that the vehicles were at least to some extent undamaged and that he would be able to break into one, although he had no clue how to do that.

For the moment, however, consciousness had other plans. He was on the ground, out for the count. Like a boxer he had put everything on one punch, not expecting that fate would have such a mean right hook. And this had been exactly what had knocked him to the floor.

The only thing left in his head was loud white noise; his gaze was fixated on the passage between the buildings. Strangely he did not feel anything else but his pulsating leg wound, not the rest of his body, not the lacerations in his face or his lips burst open from the sudden heat.

There was no sight of the dog as well and Markus could only hope that it had managed to get itself to safety in time. Where the heat had not yet melted the snow it turned black by the falling soot.

Markus was chain-coughing, bending forward and spitting out blood. On impact he had bitten his tongue which was now profoundly swollen and pulsating heavily. His leg was hurting with each step forcing the sensation back into his body. In what kind of shit did he just end up again?

Why did this kind of thing keep happening to him?!

He would not endure this any much longer. He also realized on top of that that he had lost nearly all of his equipment with one single blow. Only the damned crossbow with a handful of arrows and his battle mace were all he had left. Everything else had fallen victim to the fire or was scattered somewhere in the area. His dry mouth was greedy for liquid.

But far more important was something else. Agitated he was fumbling in his right breast pocket. Annette’s picture was still there. He would manage to get everything else somehow. There was a dull whistling inside his ears giving him the feeling of walking through tenacious cotton.

He set one foot in front of another like being in a trance, swaying more towards his destination than walking towards it. If somebody could have seen him right now, they would certainly have taken him to be one of the body bags and would have simply shot him.

He had to stop every few meters to rest, and to at least see somewhat clearly he had to blink just to realize that he had lost his way and had to reorientate himself. The strong wind fueled the fire time and time again, sparks were flying out of the flames and were settling like a deadly rain on the surrounding buildings and planes. It was only a matter of time until the flames would spread and finally the whole airport would be burning.

No firefighters would be moving out today to suffocate the fire under thick foam carpets, no ambulance would be taking care of him by taking him to a hospital. Without any doubt the pilots at least had found a quick death and Markus could only hope that there had not been more humans on the plane.

Another part of the car rental collapsed with a lot of noise angrily emitting a cloud of sparks. It smelled like charred plastic and burning jet fuel, a damned dangerous combination.

After what seemed like an eternity he finally reached the passage between the two buildings which led to the parking lot. Of course he had no car key on him and no clue how he should continue. Strictly speaking he had no plan of action whatsoever, not even the hairline of an idea as to how to improve his situation not to mention how to get away from here.

Nonetheless he kept on moving. The reality was as sobering as the fact that the alleged rescue by plane had come undone in fire and ashes. The disillusionment came once he had reached the parking lot. All the car doors he shook were locked. Why should it have been any other way? Some of the car alarms even went off howling like beaten dogs. He dropped to the ground in despair after he had checked the last vehicle.

Simply staring into the nothingness in front of him. The end, over, done. No energy left to keep on going. That was is then, the end of the line on this shitty parking lot in the middle of nowhere a long way from home.

Now it was only a matter of time before the first creatures would find him. He rummaged in his jacket pocket for Annette’s crumpled picture, flattened it and looked at it. The feeling of having failed once again was spreading inside of him, dragging his thoughts into an endless deep hole.

Behind him the fire kept on spreading, more building parts were collapsing or smaller containers or pipes were exploding. He was Bruce Willis after the final battle but there was only one problem. He simply was not Bruce Willis but instead some insignificant asshole which would die here. But that was all beside the point. Sure, he could have smashed a car window with his mace and hid himself inside of one of the vehicles. But the flames would reach them as well soon and he did not have the slightest clue how to hot-wire a car.

It was tough to see one’s own failure and incapability. Having to realize that he would not reach the set goal because he had simply reached his limit. Precisely like the thing with the shortest straw, his road had ended here.

A noise close by the car behind which he was hiding jerked him from his gloomy thoughts. Ready for his final battle he pulled himself up, groaning, gripping his battle mace tighter. He would take at least one of those creatures with him, at least one.

The first rows of cars were burning and greedily the flames were already searching for the next ones. Carefully he peered through the smeared car window behind which he was hiding but he could not see any staggering shapes between the flames. Uncertain he looked around but he could not see one of these dirt bags anywhere. There was only fire and smoke to the one side, on the other side at the end of the parking lot was an opaque row of bushes which was only interrupted by some single trees.

There, a movement at the left side of the car! Quickly he raised his battle mace up but recognized at the last moment the dog which came closer, whimpering and with its tail between its legs. Markus dropped to his knees with a hysterical but yet happy laughter and ignoring all the pain Markus petted the dog’s dirty fur as the animal was pressing against him.

The little guy had been through hell apparently and was covered with soot everywhere. Which of the two was happier in that moment nobody would have been able to tell. Quickly he examined his new companion. The brave guy was dirty and wet but unharmed. The dog pressed itself tightly against Markus who was holding it with both arms as if he never wanted let it go again.

He was so happy about the animal that tears were running down his cheeks leaving light traces on his sooty skin. The animal gave him strength prompting him to not give up by licking Markus’s face and hands. He was not alone anymore and he had a task.

At this moment Markus decided to name the dog Tom. He thought that the name matched the bank robber’s mask which the dog was wearing as a pattern in its facial fur.

“Old Tom, it’s time that we come up with a plan on how to proceed because I think we have to get away from here as fast as possible.”

Markus’s voice was no more than a croak but the dog looked at him as if it had understood every single word. First he had to see to the wound on his leg. Hoping to find a first aid kit he smashed the car’s side window with his battle mace and opened the vehicle’s doors. Luck offered her first smile of the day; there was a small plastic kit with the Red Cross under the driver’s seat.

Markus’s find could not have been better timed. His leg wound had bled badly and was hurting, but luckily the cut was not that deep. Sitting in the trunk he pulled down his pants and pressed a compress, which he had taken from the first aid kit, onto the dirty wound. Afterwards he wrapped two bandages around his thigh.

He stuffed the remaining dressing materials in the cargo pockets of his dirty pants. The scissors and two rolls of tape went inside the pockets as well. There were four paper packets of analgesics. These he swallowed without water, all of them.

He did not have much time left because the first shadows were already appearing between the flames right after he had pulled up his pants again and had pocketed the stuff. He was still wearing the ground crew‘s safety clothing and his hair was badly scorched. This did not keep him from his way between the burning vehicles.

The road towards the terminal building was the only escape route left. Dread tightened around him again, slowly but surely.

Markus had no idea how the dead had managed to reach the parking lot so fast but here they were.

Fact was however that they were here now and that they were surrounding him, which was not good at all. Without thinking further about it he set out limping. He had to reach the terminal building before the monsters did, in the hope of finding an unlocked door where none of those dirt bags would be waiting.

More and more of them were staggering through the fire, some of them were even totally ablaze and were breaking down twitching after a few meters. The chasing creatures trampled heedlessly over them and often caught fire themselves.

Potentially more dangerous than these ‘flamers’ were the intact zombies crawling out of the bushes. Some of them were on their feet already and started walking faster now that they had their prey directly in front of their noses. Leading them was a tall stewardess in dark-blue uniform and torn panty hose. The dark-blue cap was sitting on her wild tufts of hair in a grotesque position, fixed there for eternity or at least until the end of her decay.

She was still wearing a high-heeled boot which matched the clothes on one of her feet, the other one was bare. She twisted her ankle with each step and was staggering towards him with swinging arms like a broken doll. She must have been really beautiful in life but now she was only a ghost of her faded glory.

As if in slow-motion, Markus was trying to increase the distance between himself and the monsters but it was as if he could only manage to move forward with great difficulty. It felt like being bonded by an invisible rubber band. He fought against it with all his might but the distance between himself and the monsters decreased rapidly.

Tom was barking encouragingly and stopped time and time again to look back at him, running back and forth pushing him to walk faster. But to Markus, it seemed that the distance between himself and the building did not decrease at all. The burning dirt bags had set all the cars ablaze with their forward march but by doing so had put themselves in distress and therefore did not pose any real danger at the moment.

The beasts which were crawling from underneath the bushes were a whole different story. Their number had increased to about twenty by now and it continued growing. Then the first reached Markus. A sturdy and extremely obese man, his ripped open shirt exposing an incredibly massive stomach bloated by gas.

It bordered on a miracle that the man did not just burst because his black blotchy skin was stretching rubber-like over his wobbly body. He was already extending his fingers which were bent into claws, his mouth opened on reflex showing brown broken off teeth. A gaping wound was stretching from his right eye over his completely bald head, exposing the pale yellowish skull.

Only when the fiend’s broken off fingernails were already scratching at Markus’s jacket he reacted, hitting the dead’s skull hard with his battle mace. It was more of a mechanical reaction without technique or plan but it did the trick. Splashing loudly, the weapon pressed the guy’s nose inwards and the force of the impact brought the man to his knees.

The zombie tumbled backwards like a spongy maggot and by doing so pulled another one of the dead with him. The rubberlike skin gave in and burst open with a loud smack from top to bottom. An unbelievably disgusting smell hissed in the shape of a gas cloud into the open. A flood of finger-length maggots and brown gore gushed over the bodies which were lying on the ground.

Markus did not waste any more time to strike again. Instead, he turned around and continued walking. One of the doors to the terminal simply had to be open because he would not get any much farther in the state he was in now. A woman with shaggy brown hair appeared already to Markus’s right and extended – accompanied by a horrid stentorian breathing – her pink polished fingers, driven by wild greed. Jelly-like chunky liquid was running out of her mouth.

By now Markus was only reacting blindly and in passing by her simply rammed the head of his battle mace into her open mouth, heard her teeth breaking and saw how the grip penetrated deeply into her throat until it finally hit some solid resistance. With a smacking noise he pulled the iron from the woman’s head again. The star shaped top of the weapon was covered everywhere in a smelling mass. Undaunted by the mace or how it had just wrecked two of her fellow undead, the stewardess had nearly reached him by now, she simply let herself fall forwards. Hands out and widespead, she was attempting to grab him with her claws.

Quickly Markus turned to one side and she simply managed to scratch his jacket with her right hand. Nonetheless she was trying to grab him breaking her remaining finger nails in the process. Then she also remained behind him.

Just don’t stop now, he thought.

He was well aware that these things had surrounded him by now and that the road ahead was getting even tighter like a funnel. He simply had to move faster, so he clenched his teeth and began to run. The pain was awful, bringing tears to his eyes but right now he could not pay attention to it.

What was some pain in comparison to what would be in store for him if one of these shitfaces would get a hold of him? Now everything was at stake. If he fell down for example there would be no escaping from that regardless of how many he would still be taking care off while lying on the ground.

But he did not fall down. But therefore something else happened which he could not comprehend at all. Something smoking was flying over his head. At first he thought it be one of the pieces of debris which had been hurled over by another explosion from inside the fire source. But it came from a totally different direction, from behind the row of bushes. When it hit the ground between his pursuers, Markus heard glass shattering and a bright shooting flame bolted upwards. The meat-bags in the front caught fire instantly.

And again another one of these burning things was flying over his head and Markus did not understand anything anymore. And again it burst between the monsters splashing its burning contents on their bodies. Those were projectiles for sure. Bottles, which were burning on the upper end where the neck was located.

Whoever the pitcher was had saved Markus’s life with this action, he or she had provided him a little head start because a wall of flames had built up already behind him. The zombies were ablaze and were staggering through the fire with melted eyes.

One could even hear their burning flesh sizzling like a good steak which was thrown on the grill fresh and still moist. Breathing heavily Markus reached the terminal’s rough wall, propped up against it, and started looking around. He felt hounded, but now there was a glimmer of hope again.

He had to find the thrower who was behind all of this.

That was his only chance if he wanted to survive.