Apocalypse: The Savior with System

6 Not Alone

From somewhere to his right he heard a loud yell and he opened his eyes just in time to see Rahu grab the zombie by the neck and with great strength—and obviously a lot of pain—tore the zombie into half—along the vertical axis. Quickly, Paul rose to his feet, dragged the disgusting halves of the zombie out of the house, and slammed the door shut, pushing the dining table to bar the door.

Rahu had collapsed to the floor, clutching at his sides where the bandages had begun to seep with blood.

“I think you might’ve busted some of the stitches,” Paul remarked worriedly. “But, damn! That was amazing! I mean, you literally tore a full-grown adult zombie in half like it was roast chicken. Wow!”

Rahu only grunted and with help from Paul, stood again to lean against a wall.

“And you’re wounded and all!”

“If I had my full strength, I could have shredded that thing and more,” Rahu said though Paul noted that along with the pride in his voice, there was also something like regret there. Still, he did not want to pry. It was obvious that Rahu Knight was a man of many secrets.

Paul sighed and took one long look at the house and its walls. “I don’t think it’s wise to stay here for the night, Rahu. The walls are near to falling over us, some of the windows are broken, and there aren’t any resources. We need to find another place to stay before the night gets even deeper.”

“I agree,” said Rahu, pushing the dining table away from the door. He peered through a crack in the door and nodded. “I think we better start walking. We don’t know how many more of them are out there.”

“Shouldn’t we take care of those first?” Paul asked, pointing at the blood-soaked bandages.

“Do we have any more bandages here?”

Paul shook his head.

“Leave it alone,” Rahu told him firmly. “If bleeding in the river did not kill me, a few bleeding stitched wounds is not going to kill me, too. We have to go now. Do you have any weapons on you?”

Paul tried to show him the system console but all Rahu could see was Paul flailing an arm to and fro. Paul realized that only he alone could see and access the system.

“Well, anyway, I have this thing in me, it’s a system I got implanted with while I was in Pakistan. It’s a cool thing though but quite a burden maintaining. I need a lot of heat energy, upgrade levels so I can use some firepower to attack zombies. That’s why I need those resources. Without them, I remain in a suboptimal capacity and quite defenseless against the zombies.”

“What, you’re a cyborg?” Rahu asked in confusion.

“Er, I don’t think so,” Paul said with a little doubt. “I don’t know what else to say about the system just that it’s my only weapon so far. All my firearms were confiscated when I left the military.”

Rahu grunted—again—and walked to the kitchen, opening the same drawers and cupboards that Paul had earlier. When he came back, Rahu had a meat cleaver tucked inside his belt, two standard kitchen knives in his boots, and an ice pick in one hand.

RAMBO blazed across Paul’s mind.

“Where do we start looking?” Rahu asked.

Paul remembered what Eric told him. “I was headed to Dallas…” At the questioning look on Rahu’s face, Paul added, “It’s a long story. I’ll tell you on the way. But a friend of mine told me that if I followed the river, I could get to Dallas. It’s a long way off but at least we have a landmark to follow. I think the river slopes down the mountain so I think we have to go down.” He checked his navigation console and nodded. “Yes, we need to head down. Let’s hope we find somewhere to stay and take care of those wounds of yours.”

Rahu grunted, his most preferred way of communication, Paul assumed.

Opening a flashlight he found in one of the kitchen drawers, he led the way out of the house, sidestepping the broken zombie’s remains, and walked with Rahu Knight back to the edge of the river and down the mountain.

Quite a few hours passed before they located a two-story house at the foot of the mountain. Abandoned as most homes by now were, they entered the house, secured all possible exits and entrances, and checked if any zombies lingered inside. Assured that the house was alright, they found a well-stocked medicine cabinet and Paul restitched and rebandaged Rahu’s wounds. After cleaning up a bedroom, Paul left Rahu to sleep and rest on the bed while he rummaged about the house.

The house was dilapidated but not as badly as the previous one they stayed in. Amongst the many tools, he found some that could repair the broken windows and walls. Now he had a set of screwdrivers of many sizes, a hammer, some iron nails, a short saw, small tools that can be carried around in a bag. The lighting in the house was broken and there was no electricity. With the tools, Paul managed to repair several lamps to illuminate the interior. He was getting quite annoyed with bumping his toe on table legs and other furniture.

He allowed himself a few hours of sleep, getting up the next morning and checking on Rahu to see if the man had not yet bled to death. Miraculously, Rahu was still alive and snoring.

There wasn’t much for breakfast inside the house but he did find a packet of saltine crackers, eating half and leaving the other for Rahu when he woke up. With the sun out, Paul left the house and soaked up more solar energy until late afternoon, which now enabled his thermal level to upgrade to the second level completely. When he came back, he found Rahu had already eaten the crackers and sharpening the kitchen cutlery he had on a block of the whetstone.

Neither of them spoke, each one doing his business until they heard noises coming from outside.

It sounded eerily close to a flock of zombies gnashing their teeth and screeching.

Paul turned off all the lamps he repaired and the entire house fell into darkness. The zombies were now right outside the front door, their bodies pressing on the door and wall.

The growling intensified perhaps because they could smell Rahu’s unhealed wounds. Before long, the zombies began slamming on the door until it broke open and one scrambled inside, heading straight for Paul. He activated his system console, summoned a few fireballs that were now much bigger and hotter than the last time he used them, and aimed them at the zombie. The zombie naturally burned but the chaos only attracted more of its kind into the house.

Paul prepared himself for another attack while Rahu hacked at an approaching zombie with the meat cleaver until the sound of a helicopter’s blades drowned out the screeching.

Behind the zombies ran in a group of black-clad men in full body armor, holding aloft large guns of the kind the military employed. Paul and Rahu stepped back as the front porch was filled with zombies and the military fighting each other. Armed with sophisticated weapons, it did not take long for the military to kill all the zombies.

When the commotion finally ended and the smoke cleared, the men trained their guns on both Paul and Rahu.

“Weapons down! Put those weapons down!” a muffled voice screamed at them.

Paul had no visible weapon to show but Rahu had. Rahu had no choice but to lay down the knives on the floor and rise back up, hands in the air.

“Who are you?” the soldier asked.

“Paul Justinos,” Paul replied. “And this is my friend, Rahu Knight.”

It took Paul a split second to wonder if he had done right revealing Rahu’s name but Rahu did not seem disappointed with it. If anything, Rahu looked even more stoic.

One of the soldiers took out a scanner, like the one the guards at the safe zone used, and trained it on both Paul and Rahu.

“Identities check and match,” he said to another soldier at the head, most likely the squad leader. “Both Phase One infected.”

Paul turned his head abruptly towards Rahu who kept still and expressionless. He did not know Rahu was a sufferer like himself!

“Sir, perhaps there has been a mistake—“ Paul began but the soldier interrupted him.

“The database records no errors,” he was told. “We have been scouring the countryside for rogue Phase Fives when a handful of corpses were found along the path of the river. It seems they have begun to breach the safety zones. You wouldn’t have anything to do with the cloven zombie up the mountain, would you?”

Paul shook his head. “But, sir, can’t you take my friend to a safe zone, just to have the wounds checked by a doctor? I tried my best but…”

“I’m sorry, sir, but sufferers are not allowed inside safe zones whatever the circumstances.”

“What about him?” Rahu suddenly spoke. “Can’t you take him?”

Paul shook his head at Rahu but Rahu ignored him.

The soldier shook his head. “We cannot take him to a safe zone.”

As if sensing the futility of the situation, he motioned to one of his subordinates who handed Paul a small back bag. “Do what you can for your friend.”

Paul opened the bag and found it contained some medicine and bandages.

“Thank you, Officer—“

“It’s from Captain Eric Mayer,” the soldier said. Paul did not know what to say.

One of the soldiers whispered something to their leader, earning him a nod. To Paul, the squad leader said, “It’s good to see you again, Captain Justinos. I wish you well.” Then he turned away to run back to the helicopter, yelling, “Clear out! Clear out!”

In under a minute, the helicopter was airborne, bringing with it the soldiers. Silence once again enveloped them and in the light of the moon, Paul saw that the bodies of the zombies were all gone.

“They clean up pretty well and fast, huh?” Rahu remarked, going back into the house. Paul followed him inside and barred the door.

Collapsing onto a sofa in the living room, Paul shook his head pityingly. “It sucks not to be allowed inside the safe zone. All this time I thought safe zones were for everybody until I got rejected. That’s why I ended up in the river.”

“I don’t know if I should be glad or not that you got rejected and ended up where I was dying,” said Rahu. With a weary sigh, he added, “What I would do for a shot of good old Irish whiskey.”

Paul remembered the other bottle of alcohol he filched from the abandoned house. He took it out and the two of them started drinking.

“It’s not Irish whiskey but it’ll do,” Rahu said, taking a third shot down. “After my seventh one, you can start helping me with my wounds.”

“You don’t look like an entire bottle is enough of an anesthetic, no offense,” said Paul, pouring himself a second shot.

“None took,” Rahu muttered. “Appearances can be deceiving.” As he took his fourth shot, he looked at Paul over the rim of his glass. “Just when you think you’re alone, you have more friends than you know.”

Rahu did not seem to be the kind of person who spouted off things like what he just said and Paul thought maybe it was the alcohol finally working.

But though he remained a little jaded, he could not help think that whatever had happened to him since Pakistan, he had been luckier than most.

He should have died in that train but for Rick and the young lady.

He should have died in hunger and bad odor had it not been for Eric Mayer.

He should have died in that abandoned house upstream and again here had it not been for Rahu Knight.

He should have died many times over in so many ways but he was still here.

I’m still here.

He looked over at Rahu who was beginning to sway where he was seated. Paul could not help the beginnings of a smile.

Still here and not alone.