Tuesday, June 26 2001 Park City, UT 6:58 PM.

At the Park City hospital, the soldiers sent to stop the rapidly multiplying superzombies were greeted outside the main entrance with a hail of gunfire, both from armed superzombies within the hospital and a white robed fanatic of the New Humanity outside. One of the soldiers managed to catch a glimpse of fiery red hair behind the hood and a distinctive feminine curvature beneath the folds of the white robe before she shot him through the heart.

Templar Mel watched the remainder of the soldiers be cut down by the Sentinels. She scanned the chaos around her, the light from burning fires reflecting in her emerald green eyes, a perfect backdrop to the fanatic fervor that coursed through her veins. A wicked, evil smile spread across her full lips and she raised her AK-47 and took aim on a small crowd of panicked civilians, their backs to her as they fled away from the hospital.

"Burn in Satan's pits, dogs!" She said gleefully, thumbing the firing switch of her weapon to full automatic and squeezing the trigger. She sprayed the entire 40-round clip of 7.76mm bullets into their backs, laughing to herself as half a dozen people fell dead under her assault: three men, two little girls and an elderly woman. She moved from her position, reloading her weapon as she ran. She would seek out her target, the Heliport...

Park City was a town in the grip of madness. The explosion that had destroyed the center of downtown and left the rest burning had also eradicated any sense of order left throughout the city. The streets were filled with panicked civilians on foot, in vehicles, on horseback, all scrambling every which way in a desperate attempt to flee the carnage. Looting was also rampant as those fleeing the city grabbed whatever supplies they could without thought to ownership, often times with gunplay coming into action, causing even more panic and chaos.

To finally cap off the horror of the situation, the superzombies leading the advancing zombie army had rolled their two M1A1 Abrams tanks into the city and were unloading their weapons into neighborhoods and the hysterical crowds with impunity, causing massive casualties and property damage. The first wave of zombie's, numbering in the thousands, followed them in, pouring among the already shocked and panicked civilians, attacking and devouring alive all that were unfortunate enough to fall into their grasp...

It's over. Jenkins thought to himself.

Despite his best efforts at coordinating Park City's defense, the city was still lost. The spacecraft had simply done too much damage to the perimeter defenses and the city infrastructure before it was destroyed. That coupled with massive desertions in the militia on top of widespread rioting and looting throughout the parts of the city that weren't on fire and the hopelessness of the situation really became apparent.

"It's over." Jenkins said aloud, grabbing the attention of every one in the War Room. "It's over people. Park City is lost. I want the evacuation order sent to all remaining units. Tell them to escape by whatever means necessary and make north for Hill Air Force Base. Radio ahead to Hill and tell them of our situation, then all of you get out yourselves. May God have mercy on your souls, because that army of deadfucks out there will not."

Nobody moved; they simply stood there silently, looking at Jenkins.

"Sir," it was a Comtech who broke the silence, "the guards outside report they are under fire from multiple locations."

"Alphas?" Jenkins asked.

"Unknown Sir."

"Has the Command Center been breached?"

"Negative, sir. But one guard was killed and the other five took cover inside the lobby."

"Give the evacuation order and tell the men downstairs help is on the way. Everyone else, saddle up and follow me."

"Where are we going sir?" Lt. Gates asked spinelessly.

"Downstairs, to clear the way out of here, unless you want to be trapped in this building and eaten alive by deadfucks." Jenkins turned away from Gates, donned his jacket and took up his M-16, making sure there was a full clip of ammunition as well as a grenade in the tube of the M-203. Major Farrell stepped up beside him, his M-16 in hand, locked, loaded and ready to go.

There were twenty men in the War Room counting Jenkins and Farrell, and they all headed down the fire stairs in semi-orderly fashion with Jenkins and Farrell in the lead. They burst into the lobby to the sounds of gunfire and could see the five guards in various positions around the lobby, firing through the shattered main entrance at the east end of the building. Jenkins spotted his driver, Private Jimenez, among the five guards.

"Who is attacking us?" Jenkins called to Jimenez.

"I don't know sir. We haven't seen anybody...Just bullets." As if in answer a hail of bullets exploded through the entrance, chewing up the tiles of the lobby floor and tracking to a nearby desk, which spit forth a shower of wooden splinters.

"I think that rules out Alphas." Jenkins said. "If it were some of those bastards attacking they wouldn't worry about getting shot. They would just charge the entrance."

"It's probably looters hoping to score some weapons or explosives." Lt. Gates said.

"Then they are some stupid looters." Major Farrell said. "This is the Command Center, not the armory."

"Regardless who it is, we can't stay here." Jenkins said. "I'm going to launch a fragmentation grenade out there. I want two of you to follow that with smoke grenades. Once they blow, we bust the hell out of here. There are several jeeps and trucks out there in the parking lot. Get out of the city any way you can." He gave each and every one of them a long look, contemplating on weather or not to say any more. "If you can't head north to Hill Field head east up I-80 and make for a town called Kittewa. Above town in the hills is Rainbow Lake. Turn south on the lake perimeter road and take the second drive on the left. That's my place. I got people up there. But be warned, the last I heard from them, they were under attack by deadfucks, so you might just be walking into another shit storm. The choice is yours."

He turned to Private Jimenez. "Do you have family here in the city?"

"No sir." The kid was visibly scared but trying to keep it together.

"Then you're with me and the Major, so stick close. Once we make it to the vehicle I want you behind the wheel. Get us to the heliport as fast as you can."

"Yes sir." Private Jimenez smiled, suddenly less afraid.

Jenkins aimed his grenade launcher at the main entrance. "Ready that smoke! FIRE IN THE HOLE!" He fired his grenade launcher through the door. He heard the explosion several seconds later. "SMOKE!" he called. Two hand tossed grenades followed, and theirs was a lower, muffled explosion. Seconds later thick white smoke began to billow in through the main entrance. "MOVE! MOVE! MOVE!" Jenkins screamed at the top of his lungs, charging out the doors into the cloud of smoke...

Templar Samson was fifty feet away from the main entrance of the Command Center, crouched behind a vehicle in the main parking lot when the grenade exploded twenty yards away. He praised the divine spirit of master Necrotura when no shrapnel from the grenade reached him. He pulled another hand grenade from his shoulder bag when two smaller, muffled explosions nearby caught his attention and he looked up to see the front face of the Command Center enveloped in thick white smoke. With a snarl he broke from his position and sprinted for the building. When he reached the edge of the smoke cloud he began to fire wildly with one hand in the general direction of the main entrance. He used his teeth to pull the pin on the grenade, wading deeper into the smoke, weapon still firing. Through the white haze he made out the main entrance barely ten feet away, and there were uniformed men pouring out with M-16's in their hands. But even through the smoke Templar Samson could tell by the frightened looks on their faces, the uncomfortable way they held their weapons and the way they cowered in fear away from his gunfire that they were desk officers accustomed to air conditioned situation rooms rather than the chaos of battle. With a smile he heaved the grenade into they're midst, flattening his body against the side of the building...

Jenkins had just exited the cloud of smoke into the parking lot when the grenade exploded at the main entrance, the blast wave rattling his guts. He continued running another twenty feet to his parked Humvee. Major Farrell and Private Jimenez were right beside him...

Templar Samson moved through the main entrance, which was cluttered with broken and shattered bodies caught in the grenade's explosion. On the floor before him one soldier was trying to crawl away, his twisted legs leaving a bloody streak on the tile floor behind him. Templar Samson put a quick 3-round burst into his back, right between the shoulder blades.

"To the bowels of hell with you, Unbeliever!" he said with a mad cackle, walking deeper into the lobby. He could feel his fate fast approaching like a powerful tidal wave, growing in intensity with each step. He spotted another pair of officers huddled in the back of the lobby, weapons cradled uselessly in their arms as they shivered with fear. Templar Samson smiled at them.

"AS YOU COWER IN FEAR LIKE THE FAITHLESS DOGS YOU ARE, SO YOU MEET A DOGS DEATH! TO THE BOWELS OF HELL WITH YOU UNBELIEVERS!" Samson shouted at the top of his lungs, his body rigid and amped like a livewire, his mouth spread in a cackling grin while his eyes burned with zealotry. He put three-round bursts through both men's hearts, breaking into maniacal laughter as they crumpled to their death.

The Spirit was in him fully now, an unstoppable force of nature that flowed through his veins like pure lava, overwhelming him, commanding him, controlling his hand in the Name of, and by the Will of Master Necrotura! Pulling back the sleeve of his right arm he exposed the trigger to his Martyrs vest. A cool, soothing wave of euphoria swept through Templar Samson's body as he closed his eyes, envisioning the glory of Master Necrotura shining down upon him.

"For the glory of master Necrotura and the New Humanity, I meet my destiny with open arms." Templar Samson's face had softened to an almost boyish, loving smile. "May Satan welcome me into his palace." Templar Samson pushed the button...

The Humvee had just exited the parking lot when the Command Center exploded into a giant fireball, mushrooming out halfway across the lot and throwing fiery debris two hundred yards in all directions. The blast wave hit the Humvee and caused Private Jimenez to momentarily lose control, swerving wilding across the road.

"Holy shit!" was all Farrell managed to say from the back.

"Looks like we got out of there just in time." Jenkins said with the understatement of the century. He was riding shotgun.

Jimenez just swore under his breath and concentrated on driving. The heliport was southeast of the now destroyed Command Center. They were traveling north, and just ahead the road intersected with the main east/west boulevard into downtown. He gazed in horrific wonderment at the raging inferno that had been downtown, with flames towering hundreds of feet into the blue-black canvas of night. He had been there earlier today to visit his favorite prostitute, and had contemplated returning for another round when he got off duty. Oh well, so much for that.

A station wagon crossed the intersection two hundred feet ahead, moving east. It was halfway through when the rear end exploded from a grenade impact and the heavy vehicle slid sideways and rolled onto the passenger's side where it spun and rocked before finally coming to a halt at the east end of the intersection.

As they drew to within one hundred feet of the vehicle they could see passengers struggling to get out the shattered windows. They could also make out several zombies stumbling into the intersection from the north and west. Just as one of the passengers emerged fully from the drivers window gunfire from the east intersection shredded his back and threw him facedown on the pavement.

They were thirty feet away when from the west a superzombie ran through the crowd of encroaching zombies into the center of the intersection, aiming its M-16 right at the windshield. Jimenez swerved hard left, narrowly avoiding the stream of hot lead and then cranked the wheel hard right, zeroing in on the superzombie. It was twisting to bring the muzzle of its weapon around in time but to no avail as the nose of the Humvee smashed into it. The evil creature tried to hop up onto the hood with the impact, but again it was too slow and was pulled down and ground beneath the wheels. Jimenez kept the wheel turned until they were pointed east and then straightened out, gunning the engine. The Humvee leapt forward, the road east clear of deadfucks.

"Good move!" Jenkins said.

The next minute were spent in quiet but tense anticipation as Jimenez followed the empty road around to the heliport. The radio occasionally chattered with the cross talk of scattered units trying to regroup and coordinate their evacuation. The last remaining Apache helicopter passed overhead, unleashing a pair of missiles toward the north. Jimenez drove the Humvee right out across the flat expanse of the heliport which was illuminated by large field lights. The maintenance tents were on the northwest end with a pair of large refueling tankers parked nearby. Jenkins chopper was parked on the south end, right where he had left it.

Jimenez parked thirty yards behind the helicopter and all three men clambered out. The sound of gunfire and grenade explosions echoed up from the city to the northwest as well as the occasional tank blast, the sounds made even more haunting by the surreal flicker from the fires raging across Park City.

"The doors should be unlocked." Jenkins said. The heliport had been under heavy military guard, but they must have fled when the evacuation order came, because other than them it was deserted. The men quickly stowed their weapons and other gear in the back of the chopper and climbed aboard. Jenkins quickly went through the pre-flight warm-up and within a couple of minutes they were airborne.

"So much for the supplies I was promised." Mused Jenkins aloud as they climbed into the darkness...

Chapter 57.

Tuesday, June 26 2001 Park City, UT 7:01 PM.

Rick opened up on the superzombie the instant it kicked the bullet riddled bedroom door open, his screaming obscenities drowned out by the roar of the automatic weapon. Half a dozen bullets ripped into its shattered chest before Rick's M-16 jammed. He tossed the rifle aside as the creature took two steps into the bedroom, raising its own rifle. But Rick was pumping on a mixture of fear and adrenaline, and before the creature could fire he leapt forward and grabbed its rifle, trying to wrestle it from the superzombies hands.

With a loud CRACK the superzombies right forearm snapped in half, causing that hand to slip free of the weapon and a knobby end of bone to jut through the withered, blackened skin. The creature released the weapon to Rick and quickly grabbed him by the jacket with its intact left arm, lifted him from the ground as if he were weightless and threw him across the bedroom. He crashed through the balcony doors with a splintering of wood and the breaking of glass, landing against the rear balcony rail...

Samantha, with baby Tyler clutched in one arm, had been the first onto the roof, followed by Sharon with little Mary. Jennifer, with a screaming baby Tiffany held tightly in her left arm, was a few rungs below and David was bringing up the rear when Rick crashed through the balcony doors.

"RICK!" Jennifer sobbed from above him, her face streaked with tears, squeezing the baby so tightly that its cries were choked off.

"Keep going!" David commanded from below her. "Jennifer! Keep moving!" David gave her a swat on the ass, but she just held her position, screaming Rick's name over and over...

Rick painfully rose to his knees, amazed that he had somehow managed to keep hold of the superzombies M-16. He looked into the bedroom and could see the half-head superzombie was less than ten feet away, walking toward him. Rick aimed the rifle at the superzombie and pulled the trigger. The M-16 was on full automatic, and the bullets began to chew into the creatures broken torso which was still leaking a thick, black, syrupy liquid, but the superzombie kept striding forward, onto the balcony, undeterred. It reached out with its left hand, grabbing the barrel of the rifle and pushing it aside even as Rick continued to fire.

The bullets chewed into the side of the house and up across the ladder, one of them catching Jennifer in the throat and another smashing into her sobbing face just below her left eye, and with a sickening squelch and a spray of blood and bone half of her face disintegrated. The impact of the bullets spun her body loose from the ladder and she pitched out over David and fell three floors to the hungry horde of deadfucks below, wailing baby Tiffany still in her arms.

From the roof above, Samantha and Sharon began to scream at the top of their lungs while David clung to the ladder and peered helpless below as the deadfucks ripped the baby from Jennifer's arms and began to devour them both.

"JENNIFER! NO! NO! NO! N-" Rick began screaming in agonized horror as he watched his wife and child fall to their deaths, but his screams were cut short as the superzombie used its good left hand to tear out Rick's throat with a spray of blood before dumping his body over the side of the balcony...

From the second floor balcony Matt stopped firing and watched in mute shock as the deadfucks on the ground below tore the infants body limb from bloody limb in a matter of seconds, stuffing the grisly morsels into their mouths and chewing frantically with black and broken teeth. Around Jennifer the slavering horde was so thick her body wasn't even visible. As if the carnage he was witnessing wasn't enough, Rick suddenly came falling from above and landed atop several zombies, driving them to the ground in a heap of rotten bodies. Blood was spraying from Rick's ruined throat, splashing into his horror stricken face and gaping mouth, down across his torso and legs. For one second his eyes made contact with Matt's, his left arm feebly reaching out to him, then the zombies were on him, biting his arms, face and fingers, clawing out his eyes and ripping out his guts.

"What the fuck is going on up there?" Sgt. Turner asked Matt as he reloaded his weapon and watched Rick's horrid demise.

"I don't know." Matt said, his voice queasy. He couldn't take his eyes off of the hellish feast below.

"Go check it out!" Turner snapped, cocking the actuator to chamber a round then raising his M-16 back to firing position. "I got this covered." He began shooting the deadfucks who tore at the bodies just below.

Matt pulled himself away from the edge of the balcony and entered the bedroom.

Mac stood in the doorway with his M-16 pointed into the hall, guarding the stairs. His wounded leg was drenched in blood and his face was set into a grim mask of pained determination. Norris stood beside him, looking frightened and confused. He opened his mouth to speak but Matt hurriedly stepped past him into the hall.

"Upstairs!" was all Matt said, never looking back. Across the hall, through the other bedroom he could see his wife out on the rear balcony, targeting zombies below and firing with calm, calculated precision. Matt stepped over Scotty's body and raced up the stairs, praying he was not to late to help David, Sharon and the others who had taken refuge on the third floor.

"Back him up! I can hold here!" Mac shouted to Norris, who nodded and ran after Matt.

Mac knew there was a massive pile-up of bodies in and around the main stairwell, making it difficult for the deadfucks to reach the second floor. Gritting his teeth against the pain he took a deep breath and slid down to a sitting position, white-hot needles radiating outward from his wound...

Zack abandoned his place atop the tank and sped across the yard with a burst of speed, the cool night air caressing his body like a silken sheet. Over half the drones had been destroyed, and without any Sentinels on the ground to lead them, their semi-coordinated attack had become a chaotic shambling. He hadn't seen any of the white robed fanatics for some time now, and he suspected they had fled rather than face the firepower of the tank.

Zack neared the back patio entrance, which was where the majority of the two or three hundred remaining drones were massed. With a powerful telepathic wave of dominance, he parted the crowd of drones like insects away from fire, giving him a clear path into the house. He entered into the kitchen, which was crammed with stumbling, rotting drones, all pressed toward the foyer and the stairway beyond. He sent out another telepathic wave to clear them, moving toward the stairs. Zack did a psychic scan of the house, sensing three people on the second floor above, several people on third floor above and a single Sentinel in their midst.

With a snarl Zack bolted up the stairs. No sooner had he began to emerge onto the second floor landing than gunfire opened up on him. He felt a bullet chew into his right side and pass all the way through, another into his shoulder. He turned to face the shooter as two more bullets chewed into his chest and came out his back. His hybrid metabolism barely noticed the pain and was already at work repairing the damage. One more bullet slammed into his chest before the gunfire stopped and the shooter just stared at him in shocked, wide-eyed recognition. Zack too recognized this man from his human life, a soldier named McReedy. Zack had barely knew him, but he had looked out for David when things had fell apart at Ft. Douglas, helping the kid get Zack safely out of the hospital and back to the barracks.

"Zack?" McReedy asked with a voice laced with fear and pain. Zack could see a tourniquet and bandage around one of his legs.

"It's me." Zack said, once again taken aback by how deep and guttural his voice had become. For a moment he thought McReedy was going to start shooting at him again, and Zack could feel the Beast boiling just beneath the surface of his conscious control, agonizingly hungry and growling to be fed...But Zack held it in check. McReedy lowered his gun. Zack nodded his head softly before charging up the stairs to the third floor...

Corporal Philips brought the tank to the center of the yard, spun it around toward the house and stopped.

"Hold!" Commander King called from his seat. His sharp blue eyes scanned the battlefield, surveying the carnage.

There were hundreds of zombie carcasses strewn about the yard and back patio, dozens of them shot through the head by the balcony defenders but the majority had been blown apart by the Abram Tanks heavy .50 caliber cupola mounted machinegun or simply ground to jelly by the behemoths heavy tracks, but a few dozen deadfucks still remained. Most were clumped around the rear patio entrance, illuminated by the lights, trying to gain entry to the house, but several dozen were also congregated to the north end of the house, under the rear balcony. On the balcony itself he could see Sgt. Turner, standing up and leaning out over the balcony, shooting into the mob.

But it was what Sgt. King saw silhouetted on a balcony on the third floor that disconcerted him...a superzombie! Its helmet and body armor were gone and its head and torso looked badly damaged, but it was still active. On the north end of the balcony was the roof access ladder and King could see the boy David clinging halfway up, watching the superzombie approach. On the roof King could see the boy's attractive, dark haired girlfriend Samantha peering over the edge, screaming tearfully. In her arms was her child; his wails appeared to match his mothers. Standing beside her was David's mother Sharon. Her long blond hair fluttered in the wind and her face was a hysterical mask of emotion. She too held a screaming child in her arms, a toddler. For a moment King contemplated firing the .50 at the superzombie, but didn't want to risk hitting the kid or the ladies on the roof.

"Get us under the balcony!" King called down to Corporal Philips, and within a moment the hulking tank was moving forward toward the house.

"How do things look skipper?" Corporal Carey asked from the floor. King took his eyes away from the view port and looked down at Carey, his frog face pale from blood loss. When the superzombie had fired into the tank Carey had taken two hits, one in the right shoulder and another in the bicep. Both had torn him up pretty good, splattering the interior of the tank with his blood, and although painful as hell, Carey would survive if he got medical attention soon.

"The deadfucks have breached the house and there is an Alpha on the third floor balcony." King said flatly and turned back to the view port.

"And I thought I had it rough." Carey said with bitter jest, laying his head back down and closing his eyes.

"GET SOME MOTHERFUCKER!" Philips screamed from the driver seat as the tank plowed through a knot of deadfucks near the back patio. Several more were sent tumbling to either side, those on the right falling onto the gore-splattered lawn while those on the left pitched into the swimming pool. "GET SOME! GET SOME!" Philips swung the tank north to run parallel to the house, bulldozing the writhing pack of deadfucks that clustered under the balcony, seeming to fight with one another over some bloody remains. "GET SOME MOTHERFUCKER! GET SOME! GET SOME!" Philips was whooping with adrenaline, rage and delight all at the same time. The tank passed the north end of the house and Philips swung it right, out into the yard, turning around for another pass...

"CLIMB DAVID!" Samantha screamed from the roof above him.

"DAVID! DAVID! GET UP HERE DAVID!" His mother shouted beside her.

But David was doing his best to ignore them both because the superzombie required all of his focus and attention. It was missing the left side of its head, its chest and throat were shattered and gaping with wounds. The eyes was missing from the remaining right side of its head, the socket gaping and leaking with a black, slimy mess, yet it still seemed to be smiling at him with the remnants of its shattered mouth, the blackened stub of its withered tongue slinking around its broken face like a worm. It's right arm was held to the side, the forearm broken in half, leaving the lower half of the arm to dangle down, held on by black, leathery skin. The superzombie began to advance, reaching out with its left hand, the talon tipped fingers clawing at the air. For just a moment longer David clung to the ladder, frozen with fright, his mind filled with the images of Jennifer, baby Tiffany and Rick falling into the mob below but then his fear turned to adrenaline and he turned and started climbing the ladder.

"HURRAY DAVID!" His mother screamed.

"FASTER!" Samantha followed.

David pushed himself harder, knowing that the superzombie would grab him any second. He heard the tank rumble by just below and out of the corner of his right eye saw it for just a moment before it was gone.

Faster! Faster! It's right behind you!

His fingers grabbed the rooftop lip and he hurried to get his feet up the last few rungs of the ladder, relief starting to flood through the adrenaline buzz...and then his foot slipped on one of the rungs, causing his legs to flail out and his chin bang against the rung in front of his face. He felt his hands lose their grip on the rooftop and he was half falling, half sliding back down the ladder. Electric panic filled him, causing him to scrabble at the ladder...finally managing to lock his fingers onto a rung and get both of his feet under him, his knees digging into the wall. Before he could even breathe a sigh of relief he felt the superzombies strong hand grab him by the back of the ankle. He screamed aloud and twisted his lower torso to shake the hand free, but its grip was strong.

Images of Ron and that strange fungal rash growing on his body where the superzombies flesh had chaffed against his own filled David's head and he screamed again, thrashing and twisting harder. He let go of the ladder with his left hand, spinning around to face the superzombie and dangle with his right hand. It worked! The deadfucks grip was torn loose. David kicked out with both feet, catching the superzombie square in the shattered chest, splattering his shoes with its thick, black blood. It stumbled back against the balcony railing and David spun back around to grip the ladder with both hands and started climbing again.

"DAVID! LOOK OUT!" He heard his mother scream from above just as he felt the superzombie grab him by the back of the pants. He tried to power his way loose but felt the zombies grip tighten on his belt and begin to pull him down. He strained against its grip, but he could feel his fingers begin to pry loose from the rungs.

"DAVID!" His mother and Samantha screamed simultaneously from the roof, both now in hysterics.

David's strength was fading fast, his fingers hot with pain as he poured all of his willpower into keeping his grip on the ladder.

I'm going to die.

But just as quickly he rejected the idea, the thought of his father fighting and dying valiantly to save his family filled him with a new strength. His mind was racing and a desperate plan forming in his mind. He looked over his right shoulder, down into the yard. The tank had made creme pie out of the zombies clustered below, leaving a blood and viscera smeared patch of lawn free of zombies, and the remainder of the nearby deadfucks were fairly spread out as they staggered about in confusion. He couldn't see the second floor balcony below him, but he hoped Matt would spot him and give him cover fire.