Chapter 1: Ashes to Ashes, Dust to Dust

“Over there.” Timothy pointed, his voice muffled slightly by the gas mask he wore.
Mackenzie peered through the thick goggles of his own gas mask and attempted to make out the subtle light that glimmered from recently extinguished fires. “I see it. Pass me the binoculars.” he said, his hand outstretched behind him.
Mathew dropped the small pack and reached inside, pulling out a pair of binos and handing them to Mackenzie. “Have fun seeing anything in the dark.” Mathew said.
“Just want to count the fires.” He said, observing the embers through the binos for a short moment before handing them back to Mathew. “There’s about seven. How many people are needed for seven fires?” Mackenzie asked, as he turned to the others.
For a short moment, his mind reacted to the sight of his three friends as though nothing had happened, as though the world was still making some form of sense. That version of him in his mind, that once existed when things were normal, recoiled in fear from the view he beheld of his close friends.
They all wore weathered clothes and gas masks, the majority of it salvaged from stores or persons who had passed on and would no longer need them. Mackenzie, like Tim and Al, wore a military gas mask. He wore a leather biking jacket with reinforced shoulders and elbows, underneath it was a CadPat flack jacket, just like the one Tim and Al wore. He cradled an M14 rifle in the crook of his right arm. Attached to the belt that held up his black nylon pants was a thigh holster that harbored a Tactical Pro II Kimber 1911. On his left hip hung a Kukri.
Timothy stood to Mackenzie’s left. He wore a 3/4 length khaki poplin jacket on top of his flack jacket. The 5.56 ammunition for his M16A2 rifle was located in his pack, but a few magazines rested in makeshift pouches built into a belt that bore the Royal Canadian Regiments eight pointed star as the buckle. The belt held up a pair of black cargo pants, knee pads firmly strapped on just above a pair of combat boots. Holstered to his thigh was a browning 9mm pistol.
Alain was sitting on the slope they stood on. He wore his flack jacket on the outside, on top of a dark cotton hooded jacket, his hood was pulled over his head, covering those parts that weren’t protected by the gas mask he wore. He rested an M249 on his thigh as he sat watching the embers glowing in the distance. His hands were protected by tactical gloves, and he wore a pair of black light weight nylon pants with reinforced knees. They nearly hid the pair of running shoes he had on his feet. A hatchet hung from a jimmy rigged steel ring threaded into his belt on his right hip, and a P225 Sig pistol rested in a holster that had been sown firmly into his flack jacket’s left breast.
Mathew stood out with an out of date, yet still functional cold war era Russian style gasmask wrapped at the neck with a camouflage patterned scarf. He wore an olive drab cotton jacket, blue denim jeans and a pair of worn combat boots. At his hip was holstered a silver Smith and Wesson model 625 revolver. A Remington 870 Police entry gun with a fourteen inch barrel was cradled in his crossed arms as he stood waiting to move, an overcharged pack at his feet. He pondered. “How many people for seven fires.Well, that’s a really tough one, I suppose we could just guess that each fire has at least two people and that there’s at a minimum fourteen people to deal with.”
“From the distance the fires are at I’d say there’s probably more than two per fire.” Al said, breaking his silence. “Maybe five?”
“How many is that?” Mackenzie asked, “Five times seven... I suck at math.”
The other three turned to each other, if they hadn’t been all wearing gas masks you would have been able to watch them all silently mouthing numbers as they calculated, except for Mathew, who quickly responded.
“Thirty five, for christ sakes, multiples of five are supposed to be easy.”
“Hey I was just about to say that.” Tim said, borderline disgruntled.
“Thirty five.” Alain repeated. “That’s a lot, if things go bad we can be in a world of hurt.
Mackenzie looked at the dark silhouette of the horizon, it was nearing dawn. The light of the sun was visible as a pink haze in the distance, although this pink haze was not that of an ordinary sunrise.
All of them knew the signs of spore saturation in the atmosphere. The microscopic fungus was thick in the air, and if it weren’t for their gas masks the parasitic organism would be spreading through their lungs; trudging relentlessly to their brains before causing an irreparable chemical dysfunction. If they were lucky, they would lose their minds and become slaves to the fungus before being devoured by it. If they were unlucky, they would remain conscious, and be capable of living normally until nearing death where the fungus would gestate to maturity and begin to consume all none-essential soft tissues. They had run into many settlements like that which they were about to enter. Often these places were populated by survivors who didn’t understand exactly what had happened. They had not protected themselves from the parasite, and were in the throes of gestation, not knowing why their bodies hurt so badly, as they were being eaten from the inside out.
Regardless of the danger these settlements posed, the quartet had no choice but to move in. They were dangerously low on food and water, which would have to be purified before consumption.
“Well, shall we move on?” Mathew suggested, picking up the pack and sliding it onto one arm. “We should get there well past sunrise, and I fully intend to have breakfast for once.” he said, walking past Mackenzie and making his way down the grassy slope.
“Cheers to that.” Mackenzie said, following his lead.
“Is it just me that thinks this is a bad idea?” Timothy asked, still standing were he was.
Alain had gotten up and was making his way past Tim when he turned to him “Guess so!” he said excitedly, running past him to catch up to the other two.
Tim swung his head back, sighing in discontent. “People are bad news!” he yelled, as he took a step forward. “Bad news.” he said again, this time under his breath, probably not even loud enough to escape the gas mask.

“Look I’m just saying.” Mackenzie re-iterated, “We really don’t need to shoot anybody.”
Mathew cocked his head in Mackenzies direction as they walked. “Mack... last time you tried the whole unarmed confrontation method, you were shot.”
“Yes... I was, I doubt I would forget that, but that’s not the point.”
“Really?” Alain said, from behind. “I thought not getting shot was entirely the point.”
“You were shot too Al.” Tim said, still catching up.
“Shut up. I wasn’t trying to talk to seven armed hosts with nothing on me.”
“I had my pistol.” Mackenzie retorted.
“Yeah but you’re slow to draw.”
“We’re not all gunslingers like you Matt.”
“Why thank you Mack, I appreciate that.”
“Stop being such a dick.”
“Hey, do you hear that?” Tim said from behind them.
“Hear what?” Alain replied.
They all stopped in the tall grass, listening carefully as the first rays of the sun crested the horizon and shone on them. There was silence for almost two whole minutes before they all made note of the low grumbling sound that was reverberating in their chests.
“Sounds like fast air.” Alain said.
Tim slapped him on the head. “Shhh.”
Mathew’s gaze shot up to the sky. “There!” He pointed.
“Fast air!” Mackenzie yelled.
“I told you!” Alain exclaimed as the other three burst into a sprint.
As they ran, they could no longer hear the rumbling of the jet engines, only the overwhelming sound of their own breathing and the shifting of their gear resonated through their ears as they ran through the tall grass. It only took moments for their bodies to heat up drastically from the change of pace, and sweat began to pool in their gas masks.
“Do you see anything?” Alain yelled between deep forced breaths.
“No!.” Mackenzie replied, scanning the field for any kind of cover.
“Washout!” Mathew yelled as he burst out of the tall grass and fell abruptly into a small ravine that had dug a five foot deep trench through the field.
Mackenzie and Alain stumbled into the washout, nearly losing their balance on the loose stones in its basin.
Tim came crashing through the tall grass, falling onto Mackenzie who broke his fall. “Sorry.” he said.
“This way!” Mathew yelled as he ran down the washout.
The jet engines became audible again and soon they were unbearably loud as they passed just overhead.
All four men fell to the ground, expecting an explosion of flames and debris to rain down on them in the trench, but nothing came.
Tim lifted one arm from over his head and peered out. “What the hell?” He said, they didn’t drop anything?” As if to answer his question a spherical object the size of a golf ball smashed into the stones just in front of him. “Shit! Pellets!” he screamed, rising to his feet and running toward Mathew who had found relative shelter beneath an overhang of roots and earth.
Mathew was urging them in his direction as the balls rained down onto the field, exploding into balls of gas on impact.
Alain dove into the shelter but Mackenzie was slightly too late. A sphere smashed into him and he plummeted to the ground, knocking his face headfirst into the rocks. His gasmask was slightly dislodged in the process and as he attempted to get up he coughed harshly into his mask. His hand grasped at his throat and he collapsed from his knees back on to his stomach.
“Shit!” Mathew, lunged out from beneath the overhang, Alain and Timothy attempted to hold him back but he was too fast. He rushed to his fallen comrade and pulled his shoulder over, slid his arm beneath one armpit and with a grunting heave, lifted him onto his shoulders. Mathew was screaming, although he probably didn’t know it, deaf from the surge of adrenaline that had been released into his system. He ran back to the overhang, faster than he had empty handedly. When he arrived he dropped Mackenzie to the ground.
Alain had already ripped a strip of paper from the detection pack, he waved it in the air frantically and then stopped inspecting it briefly before shaking it again.
“What is it?” Tim inquired impatiently.
“Give me a fucking second!” Alain said, pushing Tim away from the paper.
All three stared at it as it began to change color. There was a moment that seemed like forever as it slowly darkened.
“Purple!” Alain said
“Nerve agent!” Matty exclaimed at the same time.
“Hurry!” Tim yelled
Mathew was already on it, he had pulled one of the autoinjectors from Mackenzies leg pack and had removed the cap and twisted the safety off. He rolled Mackenzie over, who had begun to convulse. He raised an arm and was ready to inject the atropine when the convulsions suddenly increased in activity, nearly throwing Mathew off balance.
“Hold him down!” Mathew yelled.
Timothy and Alain grabbed on to whatever limb was near them as vomit spewed from the valve at the front of Mackenzies gasmask.
“Fuck!” Tim yelled, getting sick from the sight of it.
Mathew raised his arm again and stabbed Mackenzie in the side of the buttocks, holding the autoinjector down for a few moments before removing it and throwing it away, grasping at the leg bag to ready another injector. He thought he was counting in his head, but Mathew was counting out loud, waiting, hoping that the convulsions would stop.
“Eleven, twelve, thirteen, fourteen... fuck it.” he said, unlocking the second pen and stabbing him again.
“Put him in the recovery position” Alain said, reaching for his arm and resting his head on it. He felt the lining of the gasmask to ensure that it was sealed. He unplugged the stopper on the valve to make it easier for any vomit to be expelled from the gasmask. As he did so he glimpsed into Mackenzies mask through the eye piece. Mackenzies eyes had rolled back, but were still open, revealing a ghostly white bloodshot eye that made Alain feel even more uneasy. “He’s not looking good.”
“Why can’t they just fucking leave us be?” Timothy yelled, “Why the fuck are they always blowing the fuck out of places, dropping all sorts of shit. Don’t they know there are still people down here?”
Mathew was checking Mackenzies pulse. “They know, they don’t want us here. It makes it harder for them to scavenge what’s left of the western world. You have to remember, the Russians and the Chinese are the only two superpowers left. What else would they do in a situation like this one other than attempt to take over every resource that this parasite has made available for them.”
“Shit, do you think he inhaled spores?” Tim said, realizing the possibility once Mathew had mentioned the parasite.
“Even if he did, I doubt he inhaled enough to infect him. His mask only unsealed for a short moment. It’s the gas that got in.”
“Obviously.” Alain, stated, as Mackenzie jerked once again, the convulsions having nearly completely subsided.
Tim turned around and looked out from beneath the overhang. The air was filled with a yellow mist, if they hadn’t had their gas masks on they would have all perished. “We need to move. If they dropped that shit, there’s probably something to follow through with.”
“At least the settlement will be clear.” Mathew mentioned morbidly.
“Yeah...” Alain agreed, “But how are we going to move with him like this?”
“You and Tim can go check out the campsite, I’ll stay here with Mack, come back with whatever you can salvage and in the meantime I’ll set up a shelter, we’re going to have to stay here for a while.
“I agree.” Alain said, standing up and looking at Tim as he emptied his back pack to make room for the supplies they’d hopefully find.
“Alright.” Tim did the same before turning and walked out from beneath the overhang, brandishing his weapon.
“We’ll be back as soon as we can.”
Mathew nodded and then returned to Mackenzie, who was laying still now.

Alain and Tim climbed out of the washout and began to walk through the tall grass once again, staying near each other in case they encountered resistance from the small settlement. The nerve agents would have killed them, but they had no idea how it would have affected those infected by the parasite. Soon they exited the tall grass and were walking in a relatively clear area that stretched for about a hundred meters before the first tents of the campsite. It’s then that they saw the first bodies.
“There.” Tim pointed.
“I see it.” Alain replied. It was a woman, folded over on her side, she was wearing a thin white tank top, her exposed skin was covered in small spines, about one to five centimeters long. The longer ones were on the back of the shoulders and along the spine. They looked exactly like those that grew from old potatoes, white at the tips with small pink dots near the bottom of the stem. This was the physical manifestation of the Cordyceps fungus. These people were infected.
“Keep your eye open, they might reanimate.” Al said to Tim.
“No shit sherlock.” Tim replied, irritated.
Both of them had their weapons at the ready, and had slowed to a walk as they began to enter the campsite. Soon they turned the corner from one of the first tents and witnessed a fragment of hell.
“Ugh.” Timothy turned away for a short moment at the sight of it.
“The fires weren’t campfires...” Alain said, as he looked at the hundreds of corpses piled into mounds, some strewn across the field.
“Why were they burning them?” Timothy asked, as they walked further into the carnage.
“They must have known they were infected and were burning the bodies before the fungus could gestate.”
“You’re probably right.”
“Let’s clear this tent first.” Alain said as they moved toward the entrance of the tent they had passed.
Alain walked up to the side of the entrance and Timothy crept up behind him. He squeezed Alain’s tricep to let him know he was ready, and after a short delay Alain bolted through the doorway. He scanned the interior intently as he made his way to the left side of the doorway. Timothy was directly behind him, clearing the opposite side of the tent. Aside from an aged male corpse, him too afflicted by the Cordyceps, the tent was empty. They began to scavenge the contents once the room was declared safe. They followed this process for the remainder of the tents. As they reached the last one they noticed a small barn at the bottom of a slope.
“That’s a good two hundred meters away, feel like checking it out?” Alain asked to Tim.
“Well, we’re already overloaded, we should probably just head back.”
Alain began to walk toward the barn.
“Or not.” Timothy said as he turned and followed Alain down the slope.
Mathew, having taken advantage of the overhang, had completed a hasty leanto by using the ground sheets from Timothy and Alain’s discarded kit. Mackenzie was resting inside, and was still unconscious but seemed stable. Mathew wouldn’t be able to assess his true situation until he regained consciousness, or of course, if he didn’t. He wasn’t going to take a chance, after having been pelleted by Russian fighter jets, he assumed that perhaps Timothy’s expectation of some kind of follow up was not a stupid prediction. He took the time to camouflage the leanto so that if you looked down the washout it would be very difficult to discern that the shelter was even there. He prided himself on the work he did, and for a moment, relished this little victory. Mathew knew that if one did not take the time to appreciate the small things in life, especially in one such as his, it would be very easy to fall into an uncontrollable and devastating depression. There wasn’t much to give hope to the four of them, and often times they would sit and talk about the past, hoping it would cheer them up. However, nearly every time, they were forced to think of other things, as memories of the past caused a longing for something that could never again become reality. They were survivors, and that was all they could do now. Survive.
Their luck was bitter sweet, all of them had been hit before. Mackenzie had been shot several times, he had also fallen from a fatal height and somehow survived. Mathew himself had also been shot, perhaps more times than the others. He survived a high speed motorcycle accident in the early days of the infestation, while eluding mobs of infected. He was also the only one to stand his ground when a collapsing bridge spewed debris over the four of them. He was standing in the exact location that was not hit by any of the large pieces of concrete and steel. Alain survived several attacks from large groups of infected, and was shot by a twelve gauge in the chest without body armor. He was also badly burned by an exploding vehicle while the group was escaping an urban center. Timothy had been stabbed by a group of raiders and managed to fight his way through them regardless of his wounds, although collapsing once the confrontation was over. He also was the only one to have survived a prolonged exposure to spores; holding his breath as he ran through a subway station that was occupied by a Cordyceps host who’s fruiting bodies had erupted, being chased by infected the whole way through. All four of them had survived a train wreck, a plane crash, a car accident in which all but Mathew were expelled from the vehicle (they hadn’t fastened their seatbelts). All in all, the four of them had survived particularly traumatic events, and as previously stated, their luck has always been bitter sweet. Lucky to have survived, yet unlucky to have had the need to witness and experience the hardships of their twisted fate. For this reason, Mathew had hope for Mackenzie, that if they had survived this long, through so many insane situations, that the nerve agent was only going to be another campfire story months down the road.

“Room clear.” Tim said, now moving forward into the barn.
“Not much here is there.”
“Yeah maybe you were right eh Tim?” Tim said, mockingly.
“Shut up, you’re a fucking idiot.” Al replied.
“Calm down.”
Both of them froze in their tracks and became utterly silent as a strange noise caught their attention.
Alain signaled to Timothy to move toward the doorway to their right.
Timothy stacked up against the wall and waited for Alain to squeeze up. “Short wall right, it’s a hallway.” Timothy warned, making sure Alain knew he had to move to the left after entering to face down the hall.
Timothy felt the squeeze and waited for a short moment, giving Alain time to get his hands on his M249 before he spun around the corner, facing down the hallway with his weapon pointed firmly to the center of mass of a shadowed figure.
Even before Alain could make out the object in the shadows his weapon was up and aiming at its core, in the span of a tenth of a second he had recognized the humanoid shape and locked on to it.
“Say something!” Tim yelled to it, knowing that only a very rare few Cordyceps hosts could speak, and even then, they only spoke gibberish.
The shadowed figure said nothing.
“Cover me Tim, I’ll grab my light.”
“Check.” Tim replied.
Alain kept his eyes on the target but lowered his weapon slightly and began to dig in his pocket, pulling out a flashlight. He clicked it on and pointed the light toward the shadows.
There in the depth of the hall was a mangled human body, barely recognizable, suspended several feet off the ground by a foundation of fungal structures.
“Jesus Christ.” Timothy exclaimed.
Several fungal spires had erupted through the victims mouth and eyes, the fruiting bodies were still intact, and were dangerously close to erupting.
“Cordyceps host... those fresh spores are small enough to make it through the filters Tim, we have to move...”
As if sensing their presence, the corpse began to undulate.
“Now Tim!” Al yelled as he turned and made for the exit.
“Fuck!” Tim yelled at the top of his lungs, turning the corner just behind Alain as the Cordyceps host began to whine that familiar wail as the fungal structures collapsed on themselves, releasing millions upon millions of microscopic spores into the atmosphere. The shrill was so unimaginably terrifying to them that Alain had unintentionally vomited in his mask from the adrenaline that had been pumped so abruptly into his system. They raced out of the barn and three quarters of the way up the hill before collapsing near where they had originally conceived the idea of exploring the barn.
Alain was on his hands and knees, attempting to expel the vomit form his mask through the valve. He turned over after the majority of it had fallen to the ground. They both sat side by side and watched as a pink missed enveloped the barn.
“Fucking... twice.” Timothy said through deep gasps. “Twice I’ve had to deal with those fucking things...” He took another deep breath and swallowed, “... they’re supposed to be fucking rare.”
“I’ve never seen one before.” Al said, trying to move the chunks of vomit away from his mouth within the mask. “You got a canteen on you?” He asked.
“Yeah, here.” Tim said, pulling one from his backpack and passing it to Alain, who plugged the tube from his mask into the top of the canteen’s lid.
“Tasty?” Tim asked.
“Mmmhmm...” Al replied.
“Hehe, you puked didn’t you.” Tim laughed.
“At least I didn’t piss my pants.”
Tim looked at his crotch and noticed the wetness. “Fucking Christ, damn that sympathetic nervous system eh?” Tim said, shaking his head.
“I call it being a pussy.” Al said jokingly, laughing for a moment before being interrupted by a few more dry heaves.
“Hah, poetic justice.”
“Ugh... come on we gotta get back to Mathew and Mackenzie.”
“Yeah, let’s go.” Timothy agreed, taking up his pack and making his way back through the tents. Alain on his heels.

If only he could go back in time and kill that mother fucking research team. Mathew thought to himself, If only they hadn’t brought this fucking demonic plague upon us... Maybe life would still be normal. Mathew had begun to make a small fire, something small enough to be concealed by the leanto. He knew it would be a cold night, and preparing a fire early in the day was the logical thing to do if you knew you were going to be stationary for a few days. He had already collected a modest amount of kindling. A part of his mind was nagging at him about Tim and Al, creating scenarios where perhaps they had gotten into trouble and were in need of his assistance. If Mackenzie was not in such a bad state he would have checked on them, but he couldn’t leave Mack there on his own, unconscious, defenseless if one of those things were to show up. He burned some of the time away by fantasizing about how life would have been if the world hadn’t gone to shit... and then it donned on him that the world was headed for the shit regardless of this fucked up turn of events. It only took an experimental genetically modified fungus to throw the western world back to the stone age. What pissed Mathew off the most is that they knew about it. The fuckers knew exactly what they were doing, that it would affect human beings. What on earth were they thinking? Cordyceps fungus were used in Asia as immune system boosters for a long time, maybe they were trying to maximize that positive effect. Obviously they didn’t expect to plunge the continent into a fungal infestation. Luckily for the rest of the wildlife, this Cordyceps genus was only capable of affecting human beings. “Unluckily for us.” Mathew thought as he struck the flint once again, sparking a small yet manageable flame in the moss.
“That’s gonna go out you know.” Mackenzie said weakly
Mathew leapt over the growing flame and grabbed on to Mackenzies mask, looking into his eyes. They were still rolling back into his head, but he was obviously somewhat conscious. “You alright?” He asked, checking his pulse.
“I feel like I was shot in the stomach.”
“Not quite, you were hit in the head by a nerve gas pellet that was dropped from a Russian bomber. I think it bounced off the ground before hitting you though, otherwise I’m pretty sure you’d be dead.”
“Considering how I feel, I think I’d rather be dead.” he said in a raspy voice. “My mouth is insanely dry.”
“That’s because of the autoinjector, you’ll be pretty messed up for a while, I pumped your brain full of chemicals.”
“Good to know.” He said, attempting to sit up.
“Here let me help you.” Mathew took him by the shoulders and helped him prop his back up against the earth wall.
“Where’s Tim and Al?”
“They left for the settlement about three hours ago, they should be back soon.
“Ugh..” Mackenzie grunted.
“What, what’s the matter?”
“I was unconscious and my ass hurts, I’m worried I lost my virginity.”
Mathew laughed, “Your virginity is safe.”
“With you I somehow doubt that, when’s the last time you got laid?”
“About the same time the world went to shit.”
“That long ago huh... same here.”
“Funny.”
“What is?” Mackenzie asked.
“We’ve never talked about that before.”
“Probably because neither of us want to think about the fate of the last person we shared ourselves with.”
“Good point.”
“At that, let’s change the subject... I threw up in my mask.”
“Yes, you did. You also did the funky chicken.”
“Fun.”
“Not for us it wasn’t.”
“I don’t doubt that. How long was I out for?”
“Well they left for the tents just after you went down, so you’ve been out for just about three hours.”
“It feels like longer somehow.” Suddenly his eyes widened.
“What?” Mathew asked, noticing his sudden agitation.
“If I inhaled the nerve agent I had my mask off, how long was it off?”
“Don’t worry, it was a fraction of a second. If the pellet hadn’t exploded on you, you wouldn’t have even gotten any nerve agent under your mask. It’s only because it was concentrated near you that you inhaled some of it. Probably when you hit the ground after it struck you.”
“I don’t remember any of that.”
“You were hit pretty hard, I doubt you would remember any of it.”
“I like what you did with the place.” Mackenzie said, laughing a bit.
“Yeah, I’m surprised I did it this fast.”
“I want to stand.” Mackenzie said, planting his arm to support himself and attempting fruitlessly to raise himself off the ground.
“I want a salami sandwich, but I ain’t getting one, and you’re not standing.”
“You suck.”
Mathew sat beside Mackenzie, resting against the earth wall. “I hope they get back soon.”
Just as Mathew finished his sentence a series of gunshots were heard nearbye.
“What the fuck?” Mathew exclaimed. “Are you good here?” He said to Mackenzie, getting up briskly and taking hold of his shotgun.
“Yeah I’ll be good, just hand me my M14.”
Mathew picked the rifle from off the ground and handed it to him before he made his way to the end of the leanto. “I’ll be back.” He said as more shots rang out.
Mathew disappeared around the leanto.
Mackenzie could hear more gunshot going off in the distance as he scrambled and dragged himself to the entrance of the leanto so that he could see if someone or something was coming down the ravine.

Alain turned the corner of another tent and heard the footsteps rushing toward him. He spun around quickly and instinctually pulled the trigger, firing the M249 from the hip. The creature was leaping by the time he pulled the trigger, and he found it satisfying to watch it get pulled back as if yanked by a tether when the rounds ate into its chest. He walked toward it as it sprawled on to the ground, still squirming. As he walked forward he fired bursts into it, until finally was up to it. It was screeching, pink clouds of spores spewing from it’s open mouth, long dangling spines protruding from it’s back and shoulders. Alain walked up to its crippled body. Its eyes moved wildly, as it attempted to attack him, but several of Alains rounds had severed it’s spinal cord, and no matter how much of the fungus consumed and replaced the tissues of the body, it couldn’t replace or substitute a vital organ such as the spine. Its head thrashed wildly, the only part of its body still capable of moving. Alain lifted his leg and stomped firmly on its face. The skull cracked and the head opened in several places, fungal material erupting out of the fresh wounds. “Tim?” Alain yelled.
“Yeah I’m here.” He said, turning the corner. “Whoa... You know you can take your foot out of its head now.”
Alain looked down. “Yeah” He said walking toward him. “Come on let’s keep moving, keep your eyes open, who knows how many will reanimate.”
“I’m not a fucking idiot Al.”
“Just get moving.”
As they turned around another tent to head back the direction they came in, they noticed movement in one of the piles of burned corpses.
“You’ve gotta be kidding me.” Al said.
The corpses began to reanimate, all of them.
“Well.” Tim sighed. “At last they’ll be slow as hell, being all burned and whatnot.”
One of them rolled down the mound of corpses and got on to its knees. As it began to stand up Tim took part of its head off with a 5.56. Several more from another mound began to shamble toward them.
Al shook his head and fired a short burst at one of them. “This is fucking stupid. I’m assuming the nerve agent has something to do with this because last time I checked burning them finishes them off pretty well.”
“Well.” Tim said, firing at another shambling corpse. “Have you ever really stuck around to see if they get back up? These corpses have been burned and were sitting around for a while, maybe they always reanimate and you’ve just never stuck around long enough to notice.”
“You’ve got a point.” Al said, sliding the M249 on his back and taking out his hatchet.. “I’m not going to waste ammo on these guys, they’re slow enough to deal with. Alain walked up to one of the slow moving charred bodies and stuck his axe into its head before it could even lift its arms. It shook violently before crumbling to the ground, dead once again. “Honestly, this is stupid”.
“Come on let’s get moving, we can kill them on our way out.”
As Tim turned to walk away one of the charred corpses rushed toward him at a blazing speed.
“TIM!” Al screamed, pulling his hatchet from a skull.
Tim turned too late, the creature was upon him. He raised his weapon, but it had leapt and latched on to his shoulders before he could react fast enough. As they rushed to the ground the creature thrashed at him, swiping at his head violently. Tims gasmask was pushed halfway across his face and he grasped frantically at it while holding his breath, trying to keep it over his face.
Alain dropped his M249 and ran toward him, slowing down about five meters from the two and winding his arm back. As the hatchet reached the apex, his feet slid in the dirt. In one swift motion his arm swung forward, releasing the hatchet to let it tumble but once before it plunged with immense force into the charred corpse’s head.
The creature flipped forward, landing on its back a foot or so away from Tim who got up frantically, replacing his mask to its rightful position. Tim turned to Al and his eyes widened.
Alain spun around to see six of them moving quickly toward him. He drew his pistol and began to execute them, one bullet to the head for each.
Tim reclaimed his weapon, but as he began to stand up he heard the footsteps of another behind him. When he turned he noticed that this one was not burned. It was a young woman, nude, her face twisted from insanity. Her long brown hair matted with dirt. Tim barely had the time to bring his weapon up to the hip and fire into her. As she dropped he noticed several more rushing toward him. “Uh. Al, we’ve got fast ones coming.”
Al turned, just after executing the last of the burned corpses. “Seen.” He said as he ran toward his M249. Just as he reached for it he was tackled by a young man. This one was fresh, Al noticed that he had no spines growing out of him. This was a problem; a body consumed by the fungus was weaker, easy to destroy, while a fresh body was more robust. Alain defended his face with one arm and reached down for his hatchet, his eyes widened as he realized it was not in his belt, but still in the back of the charred corpses head. He pulled his pistol out of its holster once more and aimed it at the young mans face as he thrashed wildly. A lucky swing connected with the pistol and it fired off into the air as Alain lost grip of it. “Fuck!” He said, remembering the times in the past when he was overwhelmed by infected gangs. He elbowed the man in the face, breaking his jaw, while still protecting his mask from the wild strikes. “A little help?” He yelled to Tim.
“I’ve got my own problems” Tim said, firing at several of the creatures while stepping backward. Another one leapt from between two tents and tackled Timothy who fell directly beside Alain. They both turned their heads to shield themselves from the blows and found themselves looking at each other although their heads pointed in opposite directions.
“This ain’t good.” Al said, feeding another knee and elbow to his assailant. He was running out of energy.
A loud burst was heard and one of the infected dropped in the small space between Alain and Tim, it’s head destroyed.
“Thank god!” Tim said, soon after kneeing his assailant in the groin to no avail.
“Who asked for help?” Matty said, pumping the shotgun to load another round as one of the creatures turned from Al and Tim to concentrate the last moments of its life on Mathew, It didn’t even complete one step forward before it’s head was turned into a cloud of pink mist.
Mathew stepped forward slinging the shotgun. “I’ll try not to shoot you.” He said to Tim.
“That would be...” Tim struck the creature in the throat, with a satisfying crunching sound. “... appreciated.”
Mathew heard the thumping footsteps rushing toward him and he spun around, drawing his revolver with lightning speed, firing it just as it left the holster. The creature tumbled toward him, yet he stood his ground as it tripped on its own feet. It missing him by mere centimeters as it crumbled to the ground just past where he stood, blood gushing in spurts from its head. He returned his attention to Al and Tim. He brought the revolver to bear and fired several shots consecutively until the cylinder was empty. He pulled the latch and emptied the spent casings into a pocket while Tim and Al moved the immobile corpses from on top of them.
“Show off.” Tim said, getting to his feet.
“I do what I can.” Mathew said, loading the cylinder with fresh rounds.
Al got up and dusted himself off slightly before speaking, “Let’s get the fuck out of here.”
“Agreed.” Mathew responded.
The three brandished their weapons and began to make their way carefully toward the washout, attempting to be as vigilant as possible.

Mackenzie was not feeling well, his head was sore, his mouth was incredibly dry and he had a great urge to defecate, although he had no time to do so and wouldn’t risk being caught with his pants down, literally, so he waited. He tried to think of good memories to pass the time but that only made him feel worse. He inspected his rifle as best he could without taking too much attention off the washout, it was pretty clean considering what they’ve been through recently, although the moving parts could have been filthy since he hadn’t cleaned it properly for a few days now. He pulled the action back slowly to do a press check, make sure that there was a round in the chamber. As he did so a figure dropped into the washout several meters away from him. He immediately pulled his rifle into his shoulder and aimed instinctively down the sight. He found Timothys face within the sight and lowered his weapon. “Took you guys long enough. Are we expecting any company?”
“I hope not.” Tim said, pushing on his gasmask to make sure it was still firmly strapped.
“One of them tore my mask off, I’m going to have to decontaminate my face to make sure I don’t get mold growing on it.”
“I’d love to help you but I can barely stand, and I still have to do the same considering I might have some spores on my face too.
“We all have to decontaminate, we were hit with a nerve agent.” Al said as he too climbed into the washout.
“He’s got a point.” Timothy replied.
“Holy shit.” Al said, laughing. “Tim, doesn’t this remind you of Snake Pite?”
“The what?” Mathew said as he caught up.
“The Snake Pite.” Mackenzie said, laughing as well.
“You mean Snake Pit.” Mathew said.
“No.” Tim shook his head. “They mean Snake Pite.”
“Or the No Coles Club.” Al said, laughing some more, taking advantage of the light hearted moment to cool down after the trauma they just witnessed.
“Haha, yeah I remember that.” Mackenzie said. “Back when we were training in Texas, we had set up a leanto with a bunch of ground sheets like this and we called it the Snake Pit, but Burns misspelled pit to Pite so it became the Snake Pite.”
“Man, even the Officer called it that later when we were doing an assault on a village.” Tim said laughing.
“Good times.” Mackenzie said. “Good times.”
There was a silence, the laughter had stopped. They were all thinking about moments in their past; when life wasn’t a constant struggle to survive, when they felt the warm touch of a loved one, when they made love to their girlfriends. They thought of when they complained about doing sports for the afternoon, when they woke up in the morning and their greatest worry was making it to work on time, not if they would eat that day, or if they’d be attacked that day, bombed that day, or fall victim to the Cordyceps that day.
All they had now was each other, and that’s all they could ever count on. The world was falling apart, but together, they could survive.
Together they could survive anything.