Chapter One

Remy wasn't trained for this at the police academy. It's the end of the world, at least it seems that way. An infection has taken over the land. There doesn't seem to be many survivors.

Chapter One:

Before all this started, Jeremy "Remy" Johnson had been a rookie cop with the LA 23 division. He had only ever been on a serious case two times that involved shooting his gun.

Walking through the forest for what felt like several hours, he was looking for the town he knew was nearby. The woods were deadly silent, save for a few whistling birds that were up high in the treetops.

The scene he came upon reminded him of a gruesome movie. Three rotted bodies of adults and two children, a boy and a girl. The man had obviously been turned somehow. His face was distorted, nose smashed in, one ear missing and long trails of blood going down his cheeks.

On closer inspection, he realized those blood trails were deep claw marks.

Had the man done it to himself or had one of his companions done it while fighting for their life? The man looked like he was in his 40s. He had a fit body, seen through the tattered and bloody clothes he wore.

His skin had the sickly pale, almost green/yellow look some of the creatures took on. The bulging of his eyes would have made a man with a weak stomach puke in the bushes. Both were popped out, hanging by only a thin strand of tissue. One was half deflated, blood and ooze dripping from it.

The world has changed..

When he saw the news on the television, he hadn't believed it at first. That had been several months ago and somehow he was still alive. He no longer considered himself a rookie, though. He was just a freelance guy, trying to make it in a world gone mad. The blood and grime on the corpse's face almost matched the amount that clung to the cop's face.

Subconsciously, he started to pick at the blood on his face, being reminded of how he needed to wash soon or he would attract unwanted attention.

Looking at the next body, he sighed. It was a lady. She did not look like she had turned. She was young, not much older than Jeremy. Her red hair laid around her head almost like a halo. She was nearly in perfect condition. He bent down on his knees and looked closer. What had killed her?

This was when he realized she was not a redhead. The red he had mistaken for her hair was her blonde locks soaked through with blood. He gently nudged her to the side and sure enough she had a bullet wound in the back of her skull. The whole back of her head was completely gone, leaving a gaping hole that her mass of blood soaked curls hid.

Remy stood up, checking to make sure he was still alone. The blood alone would be sure to bring danger to him soon. Confident that he was safe, he looked at the last adult. It was an aging man. He was the only body who held a gun. From the angle of his body and the way he was holding the gun, not to mention the fact that this man was missing most of his face, this man had committed suicide.

After shooting his turned son, the lady who hadn't been infected and--

He looked at the children. His face fell. The girl had turned. Her eyes were wide open and black as midnight, one of the sure signs of the undead creatures. Other than her eyes, everything else on her looked normal. She had been freshly turned before the grandfather shot her down. Her skin only had a slight blueish hue to it. Blood still trickled from her gunshot wound in her forehead.

This happened recently.

He wondered if he had been quicker if he would have been able to make it in time to save this family before their infected companion turned on them. He would never know, but it would always lay heavy on his heart.

The boy was the same as the lady. Untouched, except for the gunshot to his chest. He had bled out. He could see it all in his head now. As a last resort, the grandfather felt their only escape plan would be to put a bullet in each of them. It was sad, but it happened a lot.

He crouched down next to the smallest. The little girl looked 4 or 5 years old. Placing a palm on her forehead, he closed his eyes for a short moment. He couldn't cry for her, though he wanted to. He feared if he cried, he would never be able to stop and that was no way for a cop of the 23 division to act.

"I'm sorry little one. I hope your soul can finally be free."

The infection was spreading over the nation. In the beginning when there was still media coverage, they called it a virus. Nobody knew the cause of it or who was responsible. It did the unthinkable. When someone was infected, they would die, usually in a horrible, painful way. The biggest problem was that they did not stay dead.

Nobody was safe from the inevitable. The world was dying, and they would too, eventually.

Those left uninfected tried to run, hide or fight back. Officer Jeremy was a fighter.

Alone in the world, the blue-eyed man had no idea how his story would end. He wanted to believe that the calamity would stop, and the survivors could be able to move on to a virus free world.

But, so far, there had been no pots of gold at the end of any rainbows.

~@@@@~

After leaving that scene, knowing full well that he would be in for a fight soon if he lingered, Remy ran, crouched into a low pose, with his shotgun at the ready. He didn't see any signs of the undead. He mentally crossed his fingers, hoping he could make it to the town marked on his map.

He stopped running after a few yards and no sign of life or the undead. Looking around at the tall, dark imposing trees, their canopies shielding him from all light, Remy sighed.

Leaning his shotgun next to him, he pulled his map out of his pocket and fought the urge to roll his eyes. He felt like a sorry excuse for a cop. He couldn't even read a map properly. Where was this damn town? He squinted at the squiggly lines, though it was useless.

He needed to make it to this town soon. His supplies were dangerously low and he could use with a change of clothes, hopefully something that would help protect his body more than the pair of torn blue jeans he wore and ripped tee-shirt. It had once been white. Now it was red and brown from dried up blood and guts.

A crash of footsteps brought him out of his thoughts. They were coming from behind him. They were too fast to be a undead creature.

A survivor? Someone-- something must be chasing them!

The male who crashed into the clearing was a young Asian man. He had jet black hair and eyes to match. His hair was soaked with blood and sweat. He would have been attractive, though at the moment his face was twisted in pure terror. A less trained man might mistake him for one of the infected.

When he saw Remy, he froze. He saw the shotgun that Remy was now aiming at him, though the boy couldn't register the gun was aiming just over his shoulder. Remy was anticipating whatever was coming.

"I'm not one of them!" His English was heavily accented and if Remy wasn't sure before, it was obvious now that this boy was Asian. Japanese or Chinese, Remy couldn't tell which because of all the blood and grime on the boy's face.

"Are you being followed?" Remy asked, cocking his firearm. "Get behind me and watch our backs."

"Yes, sir. There are two following me." He half ran, half limped over to Remy and hid behind him.

"Lesson number one; They are slow. You panicked and ran; that's smart.  They may be slow, but there are deadly."

The boy shivered. "Yes, sir."

"Make sure to follow close behind me, but remember to watch our backs. It takes a sharp blow to the head to kill them." Remy grabbed a spare handgun out of his holster. "Aim for the head."

"Okay." The boy's voice was quiet and trembling.

Remy couldn't blame the kid for being scared. It looked like he had never had any reason to hold a gun before, let alone be part of a fight.

"What's your name, kiddo?" He held a hand out to stop the boy. "We'll make our stand here." Remy could now hear the snapping of twigs, the moaning of the creatures, feral and desperate. They could of course run, but if it was only a few, it was best to take them out if they could. That was Remy's promise to people left uninfected.

"Juno." He gripped his gun tightly, shaking like a leaf. He swiped a hand over his forehead, wiping away some blood.

"Are you hurt?" Remy asked. Was he infected?

"I've got a small cut on my forehead. I-I broke through a glass window to escape. What's your name?"

"Look up," he instructed, as he brushed back Juno's bangs. "I'm Jeremy Johnson. Call me Remy, though." He sighed. The cut wasn't deep at all, but the blood would attract unwanted attention.

"Am I okay?" Juno asked. "They never touched me."

"You'll be fine, but we need to clean away the blood and get that covered, ASAP."

His dark eyes lowered, Juno shuffled his feet. "Thank you, sir. I hope I don't hold you back."

Remy tutted, frowning at the kid. "Don't think like that-- Oh!" He quickly rushed to his left, pushing Juno down.

"Cover our backs!" Juno's undead had finally made it through the clearing. Remy cursed himself for not paying better attention and to his dismay Juno screamed, loud and shrill. All he needed was a girly boy.

Only two? This should be a walk in the park.

He dodged to the left when the rotting remains of what used to be a lady jumped at him with a cry that almost sounded pained. Blood, gore and who knows what else flew from her mouth, splattering Remy's clothing. Luckily Remy had learned a long time ago to keep his mouth firmly closed when fighting these creatures. He hadn't had time to warn Juno though.

Her skin was bloated, red and blotchy from the over exposure to the sun. She had brunette hair that fell in clumps around her shoulders. A huge chunk was missing from one of them.

The point of infection.

Remy pushed Juno back against a tree, bringing his shotgun up. He aimed and fired, giving the lady one last death. The man who had been further behind the lady stumbled up to them. He swiped his hands at their faces.

Remy ducked, dragging Juno down with him. He kicked the man's feet out from under him, slamming the butt of his gun into his forehead. It broke the skull easily because this man had already been missing half of his face from what looked like several bite marks. The man looked a lot like the lady, skin red and bubbled from the sun, or possibly something else had caused the condition.

"See, slow creatures" Remy muttered. Though if he hadn't known what to do, he could have been easily taken down by those two. He sighed, trying not to think about where this couple had came from and what kind of life they had lived before. His eyes widened when a shot ripped through the air from behind him.

When he turned around, he saw a horrified Juno holding a smoking handgun. He blinked and then looked down seeing the third that neither had known about.

He cursed himself for not sensing the third about to grab him from behind. This one was young, possibly 10 or 11 years old. It was a boy Remy assumed, because of his short black hair. His body was so mauled, it would be impossible to know for sure the gender of this child.

"I-I've got your back," Juno stuttered. "Is it dead?"

"Yes," Remy answered. He glanced up at Juno and sighed. "Thank you."

Juno blushed, though that was hard to see with his face covered in blood. "No problem, sir."

For the first time in a long time a smile crinkled to Remy's lips. "I dare say this is no time for such formalities, Juno."

"I will try to remember that," Juno promised.

"Now, we need to get to a source of water," Remy murmured. "I can't let you walk around smelling like food."

"About two miles from here is a pond, though the town is closer--" Juno trailed off.

Remy shook his head. "There is no way we are going near life smelling like this." He realized he too was still plastered with blood and gore. "Juno-- Slowly lead the way. Eyes open, ears sharp and I've got your back, too."

Swallowing hard, Juno nodded. "I understand, sir-- Oh, sorry." Juno held his gun up. Eyes darting everywhere, he started to lead them to the pond.

Author's Note

Please give me your honest opinions and critiques.