FSE

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~~~CHAPTER 6~~~

BEEP. BEEP. BEEP. BEEP. BEEP.

Mother.... Fucking.... ALARM....

I sat up in bed, and rubbed the sleep out of my eyes. No beating the alarm today. Not after last night...

_Kyla.... _

I turned to check the other side of the bed, just to make sure. No Kyla. But that's because I was in my own room, and she was in hers. Despite our passionate moment last night, we decided not to do anything else. Thankfully, it was a mutual decision, so neither of us felt cheated. We agreed that we'd build on our new relationship until both of us were ready for the next level. But that kiss of fate lasted a whole hour. We both kept going at it, pausing only to catch our breath every once in a while.

The things Kyla could do with her tongue... God, she put even Cali to shame. And that's saying something.

Cali... Whatever happens with me and Kyla, I just hope I have your blessing...

I got out of my bed and stretched my arms and legs, followed by a few push-ups. Missions resume today, so I should be in my best shape for hours upon hours of mindless zombie slaughter. After a few more warm-ups, I changed into my usual combat uniform; boots, military fatigue pants, a tank top shirt, and the HAC earpiece radio. That just left one thing. I reached under my bed and pulled out one of my crafting blocks, which was basically a cube of solid metal. I had made a bunch of them, since I run out of suitable material after every few missions. I held the block in my hands and focused my mind on the shapes I wanted it to become. Instantly, the block began to change phases, becoming that familiar solid/liquid substance, and began creeping up my arms and around my chest. Within seconds, I was wearing my usual set of spaulders and chest armor.

I walked over to my mirror to check for any mistakes on my creations. Nope, none that I could see. Even though zombie bites wouldn't turn me into a zombie myself, my armor could stand up to the toughest undead jaws. At least until I turn it into my weapons. Then they'll be slicing clean through the toughest undead jaws.

~~~

Today, finding Harry and Francis in the cafeteria was easy. No sign of Kyla though. But that was okay, because this was time for guy-talk. Trays of food in hand, we found a table and sat down.

Harry started us off. "So, who wants to hear about the awesome dream I had last night? It had it all; action, romance, comedy, and stuff that made no sense at all whatsoever!"

Francis didn't even acknowledge that statement and continued eating. He hoped Harry would get the hint.

I broke the silence for him. "It sounds like a bad movie when you talk about it like that, Harry. But instead of talking about that, who wants to hear about what I did last night...."

More silence. Time for the kicker...

".....with Kyla?" I said with a smirk.

That got their attention. They both dropped their forks and stared at me, shocked to say the least.

"Kyla Briggs? That hot snow leopard chick? The one who you said kept giving you obvious signs? Holy shit, dude, tell us what happened!" Harry said.

"Yeah" Francis added. "It seems like you finally took my advice and moved on. But to be honest, I don't really care what you two did, I'm just glad you're happy now." He turned his attention back to his food.

Harry glared at him with a look that said 'Oh my God, how asexual can you be?'

"Well, let me stop you right there" I said. "We didn't actually do anything, we just made out for a solid hour. But no matter what we did or didn't do, the message was loud and clear. I'll tell you guys, it was exactly what I needed after all this time. I mean, right now I'm actually happy. Really happy. I feel like defying all logic and running outside to hug every zombie I see."

Harry laughed. "You know, I love how no matter what mood you're in, your sarcasm's still there. If not for that, I'd think you were a completely different person right now."

"I agree. I guess I'm just not used to the new you yet, but your demeanor still kinda creeps me out" Francis said.

That made me laugh. It felt good, because for once, it wasn't a forced laugh.

I finished telling them about what happened between us, while leaving out some of the things Kyla said about herself. That stays between me and her. After we finished eating, we walked over to the briefing area to receive our mission specs. Today's job was in Massachusetts, clearing out all of downtown Boston. Not too much work for three super-powered hybrids. It'd take half a day to get there via helicopter, so we get to be flown in on one of HAC's private jets instead. What an honor, right?

Wrong.

A jet can't exactly land in a densely populated area like that, which meant we'd be parachuting in. Good news for Harry, who could teleport onto the ground if anything went wrong. Better news for Francis, the ex-Marine who already had his fair share of jumping out of planes back in the day. But bad news for me, who fears nothing except grief, failure, and skydiving. No matter how many times I've done it on previous missions, it never gets any easier.

But hey, I already conquered one of those fears. How bad could it be this time?

Three hours later...

"SHITSHITSHITSHITSHIT!!! HOW THE FUCK DOES THIS NOT FREAK YOU GUYS OOOOOOOOUT!?!?!?"

Harry just laughed. Francis had jumped out first, so he was already on the ground, slaughtering zombies near the remains of an auto garage. After making several potshots from midair, Harry released his parachute and landed several hundred yards away from him. There weren't any other zombies immediately near Harry, so he zipped away to find some, and by extension, a building to blow up and kill them with. With my heart still in my mouth, I steered myself away from them, and found a large group of my own to entertain.

I held my breath and pulled the cord. It instantly flew out, lowering my speed from terminal to gentle floating.

Oh thank GOD. No parachute trouble this time...

But then I realized that the zombies had already spotted me, and were converging on the spot where I was about to land. They all reached up to me, desperate to tear me to delicious, furry shreds.

Meh, it beats falling to my death.

Except this was a situation I could handle. I waited until I was about 15 feet above the crowd, and placed my hands on my spaulders. Starting with the hilts, I quickly transformed them into my usual long sword and short sword, and cut the parachute ropes. In a way that would make Super Mario jealous, I landed on the zombie in the middle, crushing it perfectly beneath my feet. Thanks to my quick speed bursts, the rest of the crowd was gone in the blink of an eye, with none of them even coming close to grabbing and mauling me.

I scanned the area for other walkers. Some were standing around, just gazing at the ruined city. Others were in smaller groups, feeding on dead animals and people. Seems that there still are some survivors after all. Or at least there were... But now's not the time for sympathy. Now's the time to kick ass and protect my title as leader of Team Omega. Already I could see some of them limping towards me, their dead eyes gazing at me with pure hunger, but completely unaware that I already killed twenty of them like it was nobody's business.

I flexed my muscles and readied my swords. "All right, freakbags. Who's first?"

~~~

A lone zombie on my right. Moaning while limping towards me.

THWACK!

A headless lone zombie on my right. Six more now on my left. Attracted by the other one's moans, they're all moaning themselves.

I wound my arms back...

SWISH! SWISH!

They were still moaning after one dash forwards and two simultaneous horizontal slashes, but due to a lack of vocal cords (and bodies), no sound was coming out. After half a day of nonstop slaughter, that was just the way I liked it.

That was the beauty of what we did. We didn't have to necessarily kill every zombie we could find, we just had to neutralize them. And zombie heads without bodies aren't that much of a threat. Just don't wear any open-toed shoes, and you'll be fine. Let the inevitable decomposition and the eventual cleanup crews worry about the rest.

In the meantime...

THUD!

_Seriously guys, get it through your rotting heads: you will NEVER be able to sneak up on me like that. _

I had smacked a zombie in the temple with the hilt of my short sword rather than spinning around and scoring another decapitation. I had a much better idea for my Zombie Kill of the Week. Before my assailant could react, I tightly gripped my weapon and focused. As quick as lightning, my short sword's blade melted into the hilt and grew out on the other side, right into the walker's head. Without even turning around, I withdrew and shook the blood and brains off it after the zombie ceased to move.

_Yeah, definitely Zombie Kill of the Week. Woody Harrelson can suck it. _

Man, today has been really productive. I was at the top of my game, with that last kill probably being my three hundredth of the day. I don't know if it was my newfound happiness making me a better killer or not, but whatever the reason was, I didn't care. If I can be as efficient as this every day from now on, the zombie population has NO chance.

My earpiece then came to life with: "Hey, Greg, me and Francis are breaking for lunch over near that really tall building. Come on over! I'm gonna see if I can finally heat a can of food without blowing it up."

Oh, man, this I have to see...

After I made it over to the building, we found a barricaded supermarket and decided to see if anything inside was suitable for eating. Harry blew a small hole into the building, while Francis and I sealed it back up with metal and ice to prevent any uninvited guests. The zombies could still see us through the barred windows, but they weren't getting in. As usual, the only edible things were the canned products; tuna, fruit, soup, and everything else a normal supermarket would have. After Harry proved himself wrong and blew up three cans of beans in his face, I decided to take over the cooking. I jury-rigged a stove with a few car batteries I had previously brought in, and cooked up everything we selected.

Sigh. Cali used to love it when I'd cook for her... I just hope Kyla does as well...

I guess there's still that small part of my brain that can't stop second-guessing me. Well, that part of my brain can go fuck itself.

We ate and chatted, comparing notes about how we were all doing so far. And in the long run, nothing's really changed between the three of us strategy-wise. But Harry and Francis were impressed with my kill count, probably both convinced that my new attitude really was making me stronger. I tried telling them that I was just having a really good day so far, but they weren't swayed. Luckily, Harry changed the subject and finally told us about his dream from last night. Oh, the insanity...

"...And then the director of the movie turned into a super-zombie, swinging a stage light like a giant electric hammer! The other guy, realizing his wife was dead and he was infected, injected himself with the cure, but it turned him into a super zombie himself! They charged at each other and fought to the death, while the three of us and a bunch of normal zombies cheered them on. The weird thing was that this all took place in a jail near a lighthouse in Russia."

Something flashed past the corner of my eye.

Wait, what was that?

"You're saying the LOCATION was the weird part!?" Francis shouted. "Look, I know dreams aren't supposed to make any sense, but this is, without a doubt, the most idiotic thing you've ever shared with us, Harry."

There it is again. What is that?

"You're just jealous you don't have as much imagination as I do" Harry retorted.

Wait, it stopped. Is that a... Oh my God...

Because of where I was sitting, I was the only one who could see it. It was something I hadn't actually seen in real life before, but you'd have to be an idiot to not know what it was and what it meant.

It was a red dot, right on the side of Francis' head.

And it meant that if I don't act right now, a bullet will fly into that dot and kill my friend.

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Oh, yes, this is happening. Shit's gonna get REAL now. The zombies suddenly aren't the most dangerous enemy anymore.

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