Way of the Undead by Boggess Michael

Author:Boggess, Michael [Boggess, Michael]
Language: eng
Format: epub, azw3
Tags: Zombie Apocalypse
Published: 2017-11-21T05:00:00+00:00

Chapter 19 way of the undead

Earlier that day with the mountain trail coming to an end, Mark and Luke continued to avoid being seen. Sticking to the woods, zombies alone were not the only thing there was to worry about. The sounds of gunfire and explosions could be heard coming from up the street. The fighting from center of town had become intense. From high atop a hill, hidden within some pine trees, a small group of National Guardsmen could be seen making their way up Gatlinburg’s main Road.

“Do you think we can make it through?” Mark asked, watching a small group of infantry men fight off a horde of blood-thirsty zombies.

“At least they’re finally here helping,” Luke said. “Even if they are a few days too late.”

Crouching atop a grassy hilltop, behind the cover of some shade trees and bushes, it was found that getting seen was going to be utterly unavoidable. “Let’s just wait till they all kill each other,” Luke said.

The streets were littered with flying debris as the pavement was now covered in potholes and scorched from explosive blasts, leaving black, charred corrosion. “That will never happen,” Mark said. “We’ll have to take a chance either way.”

Mark and Luke waited as the infantry soldiers fought their way down the street, inch by inch, losing soldier after soldier to the viscous horde of zombies giving chase. As the war in the street drug on, Mark signaled for Luke to follow, crouching as he snuck down from the shady, grass covered hilltop. “Over here,” said Mark, sprinting cautiously over to the back of an old woodcarving shop.

Mark’s vision began to blur. It was becoming more difficult to distinguish the soldiers off in the street from the zombies. Even as his vision began to give way to the debilitating headaches caused from turning into a zombie, off in the nearby creek, a large old-fashioned country waterwheel could be seen churning buckets of flowing blood-red water from off down the creek. The sound of heavy violence continued to echo loudly from off down the street. Being cautious, Mark and Luke stepped a few feet out from behind their cover next to an old rustic looking woodcarving shop.

After only a few steps, gunshots came raining down all around them, sending them each ducking back down for cover. Mark peeked around the corner, noticing that the gunshots had been coming from the roof-top across the road, and located atop the car museum. “It’s a sniper. No! He’s a guardsman. He probably just mistook us for zombies,” Mark said.

While waiting for his chance to cross the street, Mark picked up a copy of the Gatlinburg Free press lying bunched up on the ground at his feet. Mark began to unravel the newspaper, viewing the front page headline: “Stay indoors! Mystery illness sweeping the area.”

Extending his arm from around the corner of the shack, Mark began waiving the paper around signaling for help. As he continued to wave the newspaper, with no threating gunfire, after a minute of signaling, the guardsmen on the roof returned signal with a reflective mirror.

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