Byron's Legacy Episode 1: Zombie Apocalypse Wasteland Fiction Read Online Free Page B

wandered the lower levels. There was an uncommon blackness to the depths of the ship. They were headed to the storage room with the last box. At least they’d take a few with them. Quite a few it seemed, judging from the moans that Vallance heard drifting through the vents. He was filled with dread at the sound after seeing what had happened to the others.
    Once they reached the doors to the storage room, they stopped. Vallance readied the box that he had carried through this entire ordeal. Byron double checked its function.
    They were ready. Pushing the massive, weighty doors open, they were suddenly blinded, the harsh light of the sun flooding their vision. The storage room was mammoth and at the end was the open face of the ship, a jagged cliff that gave way to the wasteland below. Huge steel shipping containers populated the room. They were outnumbered, however, by the army of ghouls that were gathered there.
    Vallance and Byron’s presence was no secret—they had been spotted as soon as they entered. But it didn’t matter. They only had to last a couple of minutes. Byron slammed the box down and pulled the pin. A chorus of mechanization emanated from the device and the first puff of green gas spilled forth. Byron and Vallance opened fire on the swathes of zombies with what remained of their ammunition. Vallance was abruptly wrenched backwards by an unseen zombie. It had gripped his gas mask, using it as leverage to drag him into its waiting jaws. Flailing, mind in disarray, Vallance detached his mask and the creature staggered back. He turned and put a round in its brain. Then it struck him. He looked to Byron and clutched his exposed mouth, panic took over. The gas cloud was nearly upon him. Byron dashed for the youngster, ripping his own mask off. Though Vallance protested, Byron forced the gas mask onto his face and held it there.
    “I’m not going to lose you.” said Byron, tears welling in his eyes. The gas enveloped them both and Byron’s tears began to turn crimson. “It’s okay,” he managed to croak as he choked, spluttering another fountain of red from his mouth but even then he pressed the mask onto the teenagers face. His veins turned black and his eyes yellow. Vallance watched almost paralyzed by the sight of his mentor fading away before his eyes. Byron’s grip slowly loosened and eventually his decimated body slumped to the floor, lifeless.
    Stunned, Vallance began to stumble through the green fog that filled the room. Zombies twitched and squirmed on the floor all around him. He seemed to wander that misty hellscape for an eternity before he found the edge of the accursed vessel. The light of the sun burned his already aching eyes. He was forty feet up. Vallance took one last look at the nightmare behind him, closed his eyes, turned and leaped off into the wasteland below.

Old Friends
    Jeff’s corpse thrashed against the metal floor, the terrible racket filling Vallance’s ears. His former friend’s grim visage, grey and twisted, stared deep into his soul. Vallance raised his gun and silenced the old fiend. He holstered his weapon and once again drew his trench spikes. His knuckles burned white as he clenched his fists. He had been getting sloppy. He let that ripper in the casino get the jump on him. That’s all it took—just one moment of weakness. Never again. He had said goodbye to weakness a long time ago. Left it behind. But that wasn’t enough. It needed to die. Back to work. Two more bombs.
    The next target was close, in the staff’s mess hall. There were a few more zombies loitering around the corridors, but they were dispatched with ease. They barely even registered on Vallance’s radar. He was tuning his senses to scout for something else entirely. A serpent in need of slaying. Vallance slowly opened the door to its lair. It was empty, save for dented metal tables and miscellaneous debris. No zombies. I guess a few years without a fresh catch would make you hungry enough to