"How did this happen?" Matt asked. Despite all of the contact he'd had with zombies the thought of the dead coming back to life and eating the living still was difficult for him to accept. He'd read the rumors about them on the Internet and seen a pirated web-cast of several creatures from Africa weeks before he had actually seen his first zombie. But his rational mind, coupled with his Christian upbringing was having a hard time processing.

"Maybe it's Judgment Day." Rick said.

"Don't you start talking that shit again." Ron said.

"Do you have a better explanation?" Matt asked.

"I don't know why it started. But I know it sure as hell isn't Judgment Day. The bible don't say jack shit about deadfucks eating people." Ron almost sounded amused.

"When the plague first broke out in Africa there were all kinds of websites on the net." Matt said. "They had pictures from the plague areas, video footage, and live reports...all kinds of shit. From the start many of the websites claimed the dead were returning to life. But at the time I thought it was a hoax. There were too many wild stories about what was happening and why it was happening."

"There are doctors and scientists up at the hospital that are experimenting on deadfucks. Trying to find out what makes 'em tick." Jenkins said.

"What have they learned so far?" Susan asked.

"Not too much. Shoot them in the head to kill them."

"I think everybody figured that one out by now." Ron said.

"They're afraid of fire." Jenkins continued. "We learned that retaking the hospital. You can hold a horde of them off with a torch. Something else we also learned is they might be slow and clumsy but if they get their hands on you their as strong as you or I."

"There wasn't anything slow or clumsy about those deadfucks we fought yesterday." Ron said.

"Don't remind me." Matt said.

"And most importantly, do not get bit. You do, your ass is good as one of them." Jenkins said.

"Why?" Susan asked.

"Their bite spreads the plague." Ron said. "And there is no cure. One bite and within three days you're nothing but a pus infested deadfuck."

"From just one bite?"

Ron nodded. "More bites will turn you faster."

"You get bit and I'll put a bullet in your head myself." Jenkins said. "The same for me. I get bit you put one in my head." he saw a look of revulsion in Susan's eyes. "Do you want to walk around as one of those deadfucks?" he asked her. She shook her head silently. "Me either."

After they had went about a mile into the city Ron instructed Matt to turn north. The street was much narrower than the main road and only a few abandon cars were visible, most pulled to the side. They were still in the commercial area but the residential area was just beyond the 4-way intersection up ahead. To either side, large parking lots gave way to several office plazas; sprawling, two storied office buildings woven together by a series of curving sidewalks and rolling grassy hills. At least 100 zombies were in sight, wandering aimlessly.

"Turn left at the intersection." Ron instructed. As the bus moved ahead the zombies still made little effort to get out of the way. It was almost comical. Turning at the intersection led them to more of the same. Commercial lots to the left, residential neighborhoods to the right, zombies in between.

"Where are we going?" Susan asked.

"Up here about another quarter mile." Jenkins said.

"What's there?" Susan hated the way Jenkins and Ron spoke to her indifferently, as if she were some stupid girl.

"It's one of those Instacare emergency rooms. Those places are stocked with medical supplies."

"I can't believe the hospital hasn't sent anyone else down here to raid this place." Matt said.

"Oh we've been down here a couple of times." Ron said. "But we never had the space to carry it all before. Besides the hospital has enough to worry about. And the military has its own problems as well. That's why they've began endorsing privateers such as ourselves to go out and do it for them."

Matt spotted the place as they approached. A blocky, three story, red brick building with a large East Valley Instacare sign hanging in front.

"The main entrance is just inside the parking lot. So park as close to the building as possible." Ron said. Matt swung the bus into the lot, stopping right beside the main doors.

"Wilson you have point!" Jenkins barked.

"Yes Sgt.!" the private replied. He had been so silent since leaving that Matt had all but forgotten he was there. Jenkins looked to Matt. "Ron and I go next. Matt and Susan follow behind with Rick bringing up the rear. Once we are inside, Wilson, Susan and Rick will guard the door while Ron, Matt and myself get what we came for. Do you got that?" Matt nodded. Jenkins looked to Susan who nodded. Matt opened the door. Private Wilson rushed out followed quickly by Jenkins and Ron. Their rifles were cracking before Matt exited the bus...

The raid went smoothly. The three guarding the door allowed no zombie to get closer than fifty feet before putting a bullet through its head. Meanwhile Jenkins, Ron and Matt carted out cases of painkillers, antibiotics, salves, bandages, syringes as well as countless other medical supplies and instruments, not to mention sheets, gowns, pillowcases, rugs and floor mats. They cleaned the place out. It took them nearly an hour and when they were through they had filled the back two rows with supplies.

"Not a bad haul." Ron said appreciatively.

"I can't believe no one else has hit this place." Matt said.

"Who?" Ron asked. "Everyone around here has either split town, went to the hospital, or they're one of these deadfucks out here."

"Who gives a fuck anyway?" Jenkins said. "We took it. Now its ours."

Matt shook his head and turned back to the wheel. The idea of wandering the city and taking whatever you wanted from whomever you wanted was still strange to him. He put the bus in gear and turned around in the clinics large parking lot. The thirty or so zombies that had made their way to the bus were tossed aside like toys only to slowly climb to their feet and stumble after the bus."

Where now?" Matt asked.

"There is a grocery store not to far from here." Ron said. "Most of the perishables have long since rotted, but there's still plenty of canned and dry goods."

They continued west, heading downhill into the city. The further they went the thicker the zombies became. Far out across the city near Magna they could see a huge wildfire raging, another out towards South Jordan.

Susan's thoughts were still racing from the clinic. As she had stepped off the bus and took position near the clinic doorway, she had been more afraid than at any other time in her life. But once she raised the M-16 and began shooting zombies in the head her fear had melted away. It seemed as if she had become detached from her self and stood watching from the sidelines as her body acted of its own free will. She must have killed at least one hundred zombies, probably more. And now as she sat here thinking about it she realized that she felt nothing. Not afraid for her life or pity for those poor souls she had laid to rest with a bullet through the brain. She was emotionless except for a burning urge to do whatever was necessary to save her family...

It was a Smiths grocery store that Jenkins directed Matt to next, and like everywhere else they had seen since leaving the base it was full of staggering zombies.

"Around back." Jenkins said. "We'll enter through the loading docks."

Matt swung the wheel wide, bowling through a pack of half a dozen zombies. There were two loading bays spaced twenty feet apart. A flat-nosed delivery rig sat with the back of its trailer parked against one bay door. The door was closed and the cab of the diesel was empty. There were zombies scattered about, perhaps thirty in sight.

"That rig is something new." Ron said. "It wasn't here last time."

"But that's been three weeks." Jenkins said. "There's bound to be some people still holding up in the city."

"Regardless who put it here it's got our names written all over it."

"But is whoever parked it still here?" Matt asked. He swung the bus wide and pulled the driver's side of the bus parallel to the other bay door, leaving less than twelve inches between the bus and the wall. It would be near impossible for a zombie to squeeze through. The large bay door was built four feet off the ground for diesel access. Matt put the bus in park and pulled the lever to open the door. Jenkins stepped to the front.

"Once we open this door Pvt. Wilson will take point. I will go second, Ron third. Just like at the clinic. The lights may be out. If so I know where the switch is and I will turn them on. Once we have secured the warehouse we can see about that rig."

The bay door was locked, but Ron, Rick and Jenkins pulled short crowbars from their packs. Ron stayed at the door while Rick and Jenkins spaced themselves down the length of the bus, the width of the door. Lowering the windows they leaned out to wedge their crowbars under the door, all heaving together and with the sound of wrenching metal the door locks broke and the bay door rolled up. The stench hit them first; that rotten, nauseating sweet smell of decay. Inside was a well-lighted warehouse, stacked from floor to ceiling with giant cases of food and other merchandise. A forklift was parked twenty feet from the door. Two bodies lay face down, limbs splayed in death, large gaping wounds in the back of their heads.

"Wilson." Jenkins said. Wilson hurried to the door. "I'm right behind you." Jenkins patted him on the shoulder. Wilson leaned his head inside the bay and gave a quick peek before rolling into the room. He quickly took cover behind a stack of boxes and was on his feet in seconds, M-16 at the ready. Jenkins had rolled into the room as Wilson was climbing to his feet. He quickly rose, sweeping the room with his rifle as he took cover.

A burst of gunfire erupted somewhere in the warehouse. Private Wilson let out a gurgling scream as several rounds tore into his legs and torso, knocking him against a stack of boxes, which collapsed and rained down upon him with a crash. Everyone froze. Jenkins eyes scanned frantically for the gunman. He dove for cover behind another large stack of boxes as a second burst rang out. He heard the bullets whiz behind him as he crashed to the hard floor.

"Cover fire!" he screamed at the top of his lungs. Ron stuck the muzzle of his M-16 out the door, aimed blindly in the general direction the shots had originated and squeezed the trigger again and again, each one sending three rounds aimlessly into the interior of the warehouse.

Susan poked her head up from one of the seats and peered out the window until her eyes were level with the floor of the warehouse. She could see Jenkins crouched low behind several cardboard boxes, rifle in hand. Beyond him she could see a pair of the large plastic double doors that opened into the main store. She tried peering further down into the warehouse, hoping to catch a glimpse of the gunman when several bullets ricocheted off the floor just outside the window. She threw herself back down for cover.

Ron took a quick peek inside. About fifty feet deeper in the warehouse a large skeletal faced zombie was stepping from behind a stack of boxes. It wore Army issue combat boots, fatigues, flak jacket, and combat helmet. In its hands it held an M-16.

A superzombie!

There were no eyes, only rotten holes where the eyeballs had once been, but Ron still would have swore the thing looked straight at him. It took what little self-control he had remaining not to shit his pants right then and there. As it raised its rifle to aim at him a smile crossed its cracked, leathery lips. Ron barely pulled himself inside as bullets raked the ground in front of him.

"It's a superzombie!" Ron turned to look at Jenkins who was still behind cover. "It's a superzombie!" he screamed again.

Jenkins eyes went wide for a moment. He stood and peered over the boxes quickly, ducking as a burst blew the top crate apart. Jenkins quickly pulled a grenade from his web gear. He put the ring in his mouth, pulled it free and spit it out.

"Fire in the hole!" he screamed and lobbed the grenade over his head. Almost at once they all put their hands over their ears. Seconds later there was a gut wrenching explosion which toppled several more stacks of freight. The debris hadn't yet settled when Jenkins leapt from behind cover and saw the superzombie had been thrown nearly ten feet. Both its left arm and leg were meaty, bloodless stumps. Its helmet was missing, as was most of the left half of its skull. But it was not dead. Its right hand was missing a couple of fingers but it still clawed at the pistol holstered at its hip. Its right leg was trying to twist its body around so it could have a clean shot at Jenkins.

"Die Motherfucker!" Jenkins screamed as he stepped over its body emptying his clip into its head and chest. By the time the others got there Jenkins was reloading. Ron, Rick, and Matt joined him in a semicircle around the downed zombie, shooting it repeatedly.

"I think its dead." Susan said but no one was able to hear her over the gunfire. "I think its dead!" she screamed near the top of her lungs. One at a time they lowered their guns. "I think its dead," she said a third time. The zombie was little more than a headless, limbless torso, with large, gaping holes blown in the chest and stomach. Its right arm and leg lay a couple feet from its body. The leg still flexed at the knee, and the two fingers that still remained on the arm clawed at the air.

"You can't kill these fuckers." Jenkins said. "You have to blow them to pieces."

"There's got to be more of them." Matt looked around.

"I'll take care of Wilson." Jenkins said, walking back to where the Private's body lay under a pile of cans. Jenkins cleared the mess away from Wilson's head. His tongue protruded from his mouth, his eyes wide open, frosted in death. Jenkins bent down and collected Wilson's M-16, pistol, walkie-talkie, and his ammo bag. He slung the M-16 over his shoulder and tucked the rest away on his web gear. Then without a single word Jenkins put a bullet through the center of his forehead.

Susan turned away, shocked by the cold bloodedness of it. Just a minute before Wilson had been a living, breathing member of their party, a friend of both Jenkins and Ron. Neither one of them had even said a word over Pvt. Wilson's death. She closed her eyes and said a silent prayer for his soul. She felt a hand rest on her shoulder.

"Are you all right?" Matt asked softly. Her face was pale, and he could feel her body trembling. But when she looked at him her jaw was set, her eyes hard as stone.

"I'm fine," she said coldly. "Lets just do this."

Jenkins walked up and gave Matt the 9 mm pistol and the ammo bag. He handed Ron the walkie-talkie. The M-16 he kept slung over his shoulder.

"I'll take point." Jenkins said. "The rest of you fan out behind me in pairs. We sweep the rest of this warehouse." To their relief the warehouse was empty of zombies. They did find half a dozen corpses near the far end of the warehouse. All were laid out side by side with their wrists bound behind their backs and their ankles tied. It appeared they had all been shot in the legs to cripple them before being tied. All six of them had their left eye missing and in its place a gaping hole leading into the skull. There were also wide trails of drying mucous around the bodies, as if something slimy had been dragged across the ground.

"What happened here?" Matt asked no one in particular. Jenkins bent close to one of the bodies, peering into the ruined eye socket.

"There's more of that mucous here around the eye." Jenkins said. He inserted his gloved index finger all the way into the corpses skull.

"What are you doing?" Susan asked disgustedly. She hoped she never became as accustomed to death as Ron and Jenkins. Jenkins looked up at her with a small smile as he swirled his finger around the inside of the skull a few times before he retracted his hand. Aside from a few patches of coagulating blood and some thick streamers of mucous that stuck to his hand his glove was clean.

"Empty." he said.

"What do you mean?" Ron asked.

"I mean it's empty. Whatever did this to these people sucked their brains out." There was a grim look on Jenkins face.

"Maybe that's what those superzombies eat?" Matt said. "The regular deadfucks just eat the flesh. But the superzombies eat the brains."

"Maybe..." Jenkins said. "But What about this mucous?" he indicated to the trails on the floor around the bodies. "Those ones we fought yesterday at the perimeter didn't secrete any mucous. Only thick, black blood. Neither did that one." he used his head to point at the one they had just killed.

"Well then what do you think did it?" Ron asked.

"Maybe there's some kind of zombie that we still haven't seen yet." Matt offered. The look Jenkins gave him said they we're thinking the same thing.

"I suddenly want to get out of here real bad." Rick said.

"We're getting what we came for." Ron said. "The warehouse is secure. Now lets see about that truck." Ron walked over to the other bay door where the truck was parked, threw the floor latch he rolled the door up. The diesels trailer was backed flush against the dock, the rear doors closed.

Rick stepped up beside him and twisted the latch on the back of the truck and began to swing the double doors out wide. A horde of zombies burst through, throwing the doors open. Rick stumbled back, trying to bring his M-16 to bear. But three of the zombies were right on him, clawing the barrel of the gun aside and grabbing hold of his jacket. Their moans were full of hunger.

"Help me!" his voice was pure terror.

Ron had been able to distance himself from the grasping zombies before they even emerged from the trailer and he raised hi rifle and began to blast them one at a time, silently and efficiently.

For an instant Matt was sure they were superzombies, but their staggering, drunken gate was unmistakable. He brought his M-16 up and took aim as Rick screamed for help. All of the zombies were focused on Rick, swarming towards him like a pack of starving wolves. Before Matt could fire Susan's weapon sounded beside him, exploding the skull of one of the creatures. Jenkins was also firing. Matt took aim and blasted another through the head. At least a dozen creatures had emerged from the back of the truck with more still coming. They had noticed Matt and Susan now and half of them turned and began to stagger towards them!

Rick tried to run backwards but the three held tight to him. Their mouths were wide as they tried to bite him. He tried to push them away with his rifle but they were already pressed too close for him to gain any leverage. With another scream of terror he spun around and launched himself at one of the stacks of boxes. The four of them smashed into it and Rick screamed with pain as the heavy cans crashed down on him. He felt two of the creatures lose their grip as they smashed to the floor, but the third still held on and was close to biting his right arm. Rick had lost the M-16 in the fall, and with his left hand he pushed the zombies head back. Its groans were frantic and its fetid breath nearly caused him to retch. He rolled over on top of the zombie, pulling his right arm free. He scrabbled his pistol from its holster and shoved the barrel in the zombies gaping mouth.

"Eat this!" he screamed and pulled the trigger. The top of the zombie's head blew apart splattering chunks of brain across the floor. Rick quickly climbed to his feet stepping clear of the tumbled cans. The other two zombies were slowly climbing to their feet and more from the truck were advancing on him. He raised his pistol and began firing.

There were at least twenty dead zombies laying about the bay door with another twenty still advancing. Susan, Matt, Ron and Jenkins had all been forced to retreat several steps or be attacked. They continued firing. When one fell dead the ones around it paid it no attention, only advancing with blank eyes and outstretched arms. They fell like ducks at the shooting gallery...

"It set an ambush." Ron said looking over the forty odd deadfucks that lay dead on the floor. "That stinking superzombie set a fucking ambush." he was amazed.

"They can't be that smart." Rick sounded the fool and he knew it.

"They're smart enough to put on combat gear and shoot a weapon." Jenkins said.

"They're smart enough to tie up six people and let something suck out their brains." Matt added.

"Enough talk." Ron said. "Lets get busy."

Rick hopped in the forklift while Ron and Jenkins laid out a large corrugated dock plate across the back of the truck and the bay. Ron and Jenkins stacked cases of food on wooden pallets and wrapped with cellophane which Rick then loaded into the back of the truck while Matt and Susan carried food onto the bus one box at a time. Ron dug into one large case and pulled out cartons of cigarettes. They had already loaded dozens of cases of soda and candy.

"We've hit pay dirt." Ron said.

Matt noticed how they were more interested in luxury items like cigarettes, beer and candy than actual food. Items like those would be especially hard to come by later on down the line, as well as things like razors, deodorant, soap, toothpaste and toilet paper. All well worth their weight in gold up at the hospital, or anywhere else for that matter. Things they would need themselves. As he began hauling cases back to the bus he kept a special eye out for such items. Somewhere in the first hour Rick had cracked open a case of warm beer. They spent well over three hours loading the rig and bus. When finished Rick parked the forklift in what little space there was left on the trailer.

"It can only be useful." He said. He then went and rounded up the three spare propane fuel tanks for the lift. They were relaxing for a moment, winded from the work.

"My take off of this will keep me in business quite awhile." Jenkins said. He looked to Ron. "You too." Ron slowly shook his head. "What do you mean?"

"Once we get back me and my family is going to head out with Matt and Susan."