The Fall of Marek

By Austin Lufkin

Meet former Lincoln officer Ben Eastin, a man of the law with a strong sense of justice. When he is transferred from the Lincoln Police Station to that of the Marek City Police Department, the job every lawman wants to take, he expects to find everything hes ever wanted there. The last thing he expects to happen is the zombie apocalypse. Within a matter of hours of his arrival, a viral outbreak slowly spreads across Marek City and turns it in on itself. As Eastin fights for his very survival, he gradually finds several survivors and promises to help them escape, but as he does so, he finds the dark side of humanity everywhere he turns. Will he and the survivors of this apocalypse survive this hellish nightmare, or will they be buried beneath the countless bodies of the living dead?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Xlibris US
• Release date: Apr 5, 2016
• ISBN: 9781514437438

Austin Lufkin

Ever since he first read Christopher Paolini’s novel Eragon in junior high school, Austin Lufkin has wanted to become an author. Born and raised in Seattle, Washington, he lives with his family of six and his four Great Danes. In high school, he was part of the school newspaper and video productions class. Whereas he has no prior experience in writing novels, he is very passionate about what he does. The Fall of Marek is his first work and is currently planning for the sequel of his first novel.

Book preview

Copyright © 2016 by Austin Lufkin.

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the copyright owner.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to any actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

Any people depicted in stock imagery provided by Thinkstock are models, and such images are being used for illustrative purposes only.

Certain stock imagery © Thinkstock.

Rev. date: 03/01/2016

Xlibris

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Contents

Prologue

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Twenty

Chapter Twenty-One

Chapter Twenty-Two

Chapter Twenty-Three

Epilogue

The Fall of Marek: The Last Straw

To my best friend Stephanie, for without you, I wouldn’t be the author I am now. I’ll wait for you so we can cross the finish line together.

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Prologue

Deep within the heart of the United States, in a secret laboratory five miles away from the well-known town of Marek City, Nebraska, there was an experimental virus being tested. A virus called Z. In a biohazard room, there were several men wearing radiation uniforms to protect themselves from their virus. One of the men was bringing out a small cage with a dozen white mice crawling around, sniffing the air all at once. Okay, the test subjects are secure, said the man carrying the cage as he placed it in the center of the room.

They all left the room rather quickly, as if nervous about something. Then they entered the room next to the one they just exited and turned to a pane of glass that separated them from the biohazard room. A different man went to a control panel and began to enter in a series of keys and pushed a set of buttons. As he did this, the bright light in the biohazard room suddenly went red as a gas was pushed into the room through the vents on the floor.

As if sensing the gas, the mice began to try to free the latch that kept them inside, squeaking frantically. Ever so slowly, the gas crept up the pillar that carried the caged mice; and as it got closer and closer, their squeaks were more terrified. Soon, the gas reached the mice; and they began to climb the bars, desperately trying to escape the ominous gas. Then, one by one, the mice stopped squeaking and fell down to the floor of the cage, twitching as they were slowly suffocated to death.

When the last mouse fell upon its brethren, the man at the controls hit some more buttons and switches, causing the gas to be sucked back into the vents on the floor, and only when the red light died down and the light turned green for a few seconds did the men in the suits finally relax. One at a time, they each took off the tops of their suits so their heads were free. One of them, a man who appeared to be twenty-five years old, left the room and entered the biohazard room, approaching the silent cage. Then he opened the latch, grabbed one of the limp bodies, and pulled it out. He left the latch open and turned from it to the small table set behind him. On it were a few surgical tools, including a scalpel. He placed the limp body on the table and prepared his tools for cutting the mouse open, but just as he did this, the tail of the dead mouse twitched, and it was enough to make him pause. Hm? He stared at the limp tail suspiciously.

Is there something wrong, Smith? A colleague of his knocked on the pane of glass as he asked the question.

Smith didn’t respond for a few seconds, but when he did, he said, N-no, it’s nothing. Just imagining things … Carefully, he edged the blade of the scalpel to the chest of the mouse, eying it as if he was expecting it to suddenly move again. When it did nothing, he began to cut the mouse open. Just as the blade began to cut through the skin, the mouse suddenly shot back to its feet, squeaked out in anger, and jumped at his face, scratching him furiously enough to draw blood. Smith let out a pained and startled cry as he grabbed at the mouse, yanked it off his face, and threw it hard into the wall. What the hell was that? He touched his face gingerly, grimacing when his fingers touched the bleeding wounds.

His colleagues ran into the room as Smith eyed the limp mouse as he covered his injuries. Are you all right, Smith? One of them touched his shoulder as he inspected the scratch marks.

Yeah … the damn rat was playing possum … He watched as another colleague cautiously picked up the mouse by its tail and stared closely at it. The man touched its bloody paws carefully before looking at its bloody snout. Then Smith noticed painfully that it had ripped a corner of his upper lip off, and his warm blood was dripping down his chin. How could that little bastard attack me like that? It was dead!

The one holding the mouse by its tail shrugged as he inspected it. Maybe his heart was a little stronger than the normal mice. Then he turned to Smith, Will you be all right?

Smith scoffed and turned away, trying to wipe some of the blood off his chin. I’ll be fine. Just keep that little bastard like that until we’re finished with Project Z, all right? Still a little angry that a tiny mouse got the best of him, he began to walk toward the infirmary a few levels down, swearing silently to himself as he tried to stem the bleeding.

He reached the elevator and hit the button with an arrow pointed down next to it and waited for it to meet him. Damn thing … Can’t believe it tore my lip so easily. He just couldn’t understand why it had been still alive long enough to nearly rip his face off like that. The virus they were experimenting with should have killed it like it was supposed to. Project Z was designed with the new virus called the Z Virus to be able to kill whoever breathed it in, and his job was just to dissect the mice to see what happened to the victims’ insides when they were exposed to the virus. And until the scientists who made the virus adjusted it to make it affect humans, mainly the enemies of the U.S. Army, then the virus would only be fatal to animals. He used his sleeve to try to make the wounds clot up, but when the scrapes did, his lip wouldn’t. He was sure that it would need stitches in order to close properly.

Eventually, the elevator binged and the doors opened, and Smith walked inside with his sleeve still at his lip. As he walked in, he hit the button with a three on it, and the doors quickly closed. He tapped his foot against the floor, grating impatiently as the number above the buttons began to count down to three, and he let out a Finally! when the doors binged open and charged out. He stomped through the hall until he found the door with a red cross above it and went inside. Waiting for him inside was an attractive thirty-year-old blond woman wearing a nurse outfit with a name tag that read the name Rose Rinno.

Hey, Rose. He gave her his best smile, almost immediately regretting it because it made his injury hurt.

She smiled at him until she noticed the blood dripping down his chin. What happened this time, John?

He let out an annoyed sigh as he sat down on one of the beds lined against the wall. A damn rat played possum with me and scratched my face to hell, and the little bastard ripped a bit of my lip when I threw him off. Now the damned thing won’t stop bleeding.

She let out a sigh as she turned away to get some gauze and some things she would need to stitch it closed. "You do realize that what you do is dangerous, right, John? This time, you got some of your lip ripped off. Next time, it could be your whole right hand or even your whole right arm."

Smith waved a hand at her as she turned back to him with the gauze. Yeah, yeah, but I need the money to get into that law school to get my master’s degree so I can be a lawyer. Rose laughed at his words. Why do you find it so funny I wanna be a lawyer, Rose?

She giggled a little as she tried to be a bit more serious. B-because I can’t see you wearing one of those suits in those courts like in those drama shows without finding it hilarious! She fell into another fit of giggles as she used the gauze to soak up some of the wet blood.

John rolled his eyes as he twinged in pain. Easy there, Rose! I need these lips when I get to my girlfriend waiting back at Marek City for me!

She giggled some more. I know, I know. So! Do you intend to pop the question to her soon?

He smiled a bit as he thought of his girlfriend. "Yup. I plan on proposing to her on her birthday in a few months. I’ve got the perfect idea how to do it. He grimaced again as she dabbed the gauze into the wound. After she opens her presents, I’m gonna take her out to a helicopter I have booked for her birthday, and under a birthday disguise, I’ll have them fly us up to where we first met where I’ll have the words ‘Will you marry me, Becca?’ spelt out across the field, and she’s bound to say yes to that!"

Rose smiled at his confidence and then turned to pick up a bottle, and after she opened it, she held a new piece of gauze to the head, turned it over a few times, and then put it down. This is gonna hurt a lot, so bear with me, sweetie. She gently pressed the wet part of the gauze into his lip, and he nearly shouted in pain.

Goddammit! His hands tightened as he fought tears off while biting the uninjured part of his lip. He swore some more as she held it to his lips, and then opened a watery eye at her as she pulled it away.

She leaned into him, inspecting his lip. Hmm, that’s strange.

What is? He wanted to touch his lip to see what she was talking about but chose not to.

I’m noticing some faint discoloration just outside the wound, and these scratch marks are showing the same thing … Rose touched the scratch marks as softly as she could, and even though he was expecting it to hurt, Smith didn’t feel a thing.

Suddenly, he began to cough violently into his left hand, and when he stopped coughing, there was some blood in his hand. W-what the hell … ? He looked to her with horrified confusion on his face.

Rose quickly dashed away and grabbed a thermometer and put it in his mouth, and the red bar shot up past 110, and it kept going higher. Oh no! Something’s wrong! She pulled it out of his mouth and ran to where she kept the needles, and then she turned to him and began to take some of his blood slowly just seconds before he started coughing violently again, and this time, his blood looked darker, and there was a lot more in his hand. Once she had taken his blood, she dashed to the microscope, pulled out a small slide, and dropped a little of the blood onto the slide, and quickly slid it under the lens and peered into the scope.

She could see something in the blood sample that appeared to be green blood cells overtaking and destroying his red blood cells as well as his white blood cells. "Something’s definitely wrong! Something is killing your red and white blood cells rapidly! She turned to him just in time to see him choking on his blood as it gushed out of his mouth. John!" She ran to him and tried to lean him forward, but that only caused blood to pour out of his mouth and create a pool of blood on the floor.

As the blood poured out of his mouth, his body began to thrash uncontrollably as if he was having a seizure. His thrashing body was throwing blood droplets everywhere, including all over poor Rose as she tried to help him but was forced to watch him drown in his own blood. She covered her mouth as his thrashing body finally stopped moving and held still. And then she began to cry as she stepped back. N-no … J-John … John … She fell to the floor and just cried harder just as rushing footsteps ran to where she was to find her and John’s body.

What the hell? The first to run in noticed the blood everywhere almost immediately and then found John’s lifeless body on the bed and then spotted Rose shaking on the ground, covered in blood spatter, and crying hard. Rose! What happened? She couldn’t speak as she shook in his grip, staring at the bed now dripping with dark red blood. Then some more ran in, including the group who were with Smith only minutes ago.

My god … One of them covered his mouth, and another ran his hands through his hair in horror. He was just fine when I last saw him! What coulda done this?

The one who entered the room first went to Smith’s body and felt for a pulse and, with a deep sigh, found nothing. He’s gone … What am I gonna tell Becca? Then he slowly pulled up a clean sheet and covered Smith’s face with it. He turned back to the others who were staring at him with disbelief or were trying to comfort Rose despite all the blood on her clothes and face. With an even deeper sigh, he said, I should be the one to tell her about Smith … The two of them are close friends of mine …

Suddenly, there was a deep moan behind him, and his head shot over to the bed just as Smith’s body began to move. Smith slowly sat up and pulled the sheet covering his face off, smearing it with his dark blood, and they all gasped in horror at what they saw. His face was deathly pale, and the blood stood out most as his gray eyes looked over at each of them slowly.

S-Smith … ? The man who said that Smith and his girlfriend were close friends of his slowly approached him with his hands up. John, it’s me, Sean McGavin. Do you recognize me? Sean got closer to him as Smith turned his head sideways at him. Come on, John, it’s me … He slowly reached out for his friend as blood dripped slowly from Smith’s mouth. John … Say something already.

Sean’s hand touched Smith’s shoulder, and the moment that happened, Smith suddenly launched himself at his friend and bit into his neck, making him scream loudly in pain as blood spurting out onto the floor as the men began to pull him away from each other. And then, Smith bit one of their arms hard enough to hit the bone and bit another’s thumb off. He attacked and killed every one of them in the room, leaving a crying and terrified Rose cowering in a corner, staring at the monster that used to be John Smith. She let out her last scream just as he leaped at her and bit into her neck. As Smith ripped poor Rose to pieces, the dead mice a few floors up climbed out of the open cage and fled into the hallway and into the ventilation shafts that led to outside, with dying screams following them. And they were headed for Marek City, and to the millions of its occupants, ensuring the dark future that was about to happen.

Chapter One

"Good morning, Marek City! It’s eight o’clock on a Wednesday on June twenty-third, and it is a beautiful day for— The voice was suddenly interrupted when a hand slammed onto a snooze button of the alarm clock radio lying on a small table. The figure covered with sheets on the bed shifted around with a few groans as the now-awake sleeper sat up slowly. The sheets fell away to reveal a man in his midtwenties with a bad case of bed head. He rubbed his eyes as he threw his legs over the side of the bed. Ugh … I hate mornings …" The man slowly got up and headed for the bathroom to take a shower. He pulled the towel off the curtain that he had left hanging yesterday, turned the shower on, and stepped into it with his eyes closed.

His name was Ben Eastin, and he was a Marek City cop. Or at least he would be starting today. Before he was given this job, he used to be a cop back in Lincoln, and the chief of the Marek City Police Department was so impressed by his actions during a hostage situation a few weeks back. He had been driving by the Lincoln Bank when the doors were blown off, and he was the first on scene just as a group of fifteen tried to rob it. The rest of the Lincoln police force managed to trap the bank robbers inside but, in the process, made the robbers desperate enough to use everyone inside as a hostage in order to escape. With no negotiator to help, Ben managed to sneak into the bank and took care of each of the robbers single-handedly, and that became his crowning moment in his job.

Ben let the water run down his head as he just stood there, thinking about all his old friends back in Lincoln, and there was one who had worked with him since his first day as a rookie cop named Jack Zunner. He and Jack enlisted together and were almost like brothers to each other. They were even partners on more than one occasion, like the time when the two stopped a jewel heist together, and in the process, Jack had taken a bullet to protect him. Granted, he was wearing a bulletproof vest, but it put him out of the force for a few days.

Moments later, he began to run some shampoo through his hair and use some soap to get himself ready for the first day of his new job. As he showered, he heard his phone begin to ring, so he turned the shower off, dried his hair, and walked out with the towel wrapped around his waist. Then he went to the small table with his ringing cell phone, picked it up, and answered it. This is Ben Eastin. Who’s calling?

Ben! It’s me, Jack Zunner!

Jack? He smiled as he pictured his friend in his mind. How are you doing, Jack?

He could practically hear Jack shrug before he spoke. Meh, I’m okay. So how does it feel to be a big-time Marek City cop? Jack’s laugh came through, making him smile.

Well, I wouldn’t know yet. I’m still just gonna be a rookie for the next few months starting today. A loud yawn broke his sentence, making him stop for a moment. Besides, I only got up a couple minutes ago, and I just got out of the shower. And another thing, I haven’t even gotten my uniform yet.

Yeah, yeah. I hope you know that the rest of us are pretty jealous of you getting into Marek so easily like that! Ben snickered lightly at Jack’s words. "I’d kill to get a job there right now!"

Heh, I’m sure you would, Jack. I’ll be sure to tell you if anything interesting happens today when I get into work. I’ll talk to you later! Bye!

Catch ya soon, bro!

With that, Ben hung up and proceeded to dry himself off as he walked to his closet. Once he was dry enough, he put some clothes on and got ready for his new job. He grabbed the gun he kept in his table drawer and headed downstairs to make himself some breakfast; he tried to make it a habit to make sure he was awake and aware of everything on his job. He took out a box of his favorite cereal, Frosted Flakes, and poured some into a bowl and then grabbed a spoon and got the milk in his fridge out to pour some into the bowl and began to eat the cereal. Frosted Flakes was his favorite cereal because when he was younger, it was practically all he would ever eat; and for a while, Tony’s motto for the cereal was all he would ever say too.

Once he was finished, he put his bowl into the sink, rinsed it out, and placed it into the dishwasher for later. He walked out and headed for his front door where his worn white shoes laid waiting for him. He sat down, put some socks on, and then put his shoes on before tying them tightly and securely onto his feet. He secured his FN Five-Seven handgun to his hip and grabbed a couple full magazines he kept for later before he left his home. Little did he know that this would be the last time he would ever see it again.

Later that day, a young woman named Jennifer Sherwinsky, or as she liked to be called, Jenny, was driving from the Marek City Elementary School with a heavy weight on her shoulders. She had tried to get a job at the school, but she was so nervous she failed to get anything there. She worried about her young eight-year-old daughter as she drove back to her home. She was a single mother since she found out she was pregnant at sixteen after she had dated a man for about a month and a half, and when she told him, he ditched her, and she has never seen the bastard since. Not that she would ever talk to him after leaving her the way he did. If she ever ran into him, she would either slap him until he was unconscious, or she would punch him until she was satisfied.

Once she reached her home, she drove up into the driveway, parked her car, and turned it off as she got out. Within seconds, her daughter came running out with her babysitter walking after her. Mommy! She broke into a smile as she fell to her knees and hugged her daughter. I missed you, Mommy!

I missed you too, Sandy. She kissed her blond head with a wide grin. Jenny looked over her daughter’s head at the babysitter. I hope that my little Sandy wasn’t too much of a problem for you, Sarah.

Sarah shook her head with a smile. No, she was just fine, Ms. Sherwinsky.

Jenny shook her hand softly at her. Sarah, please. I’ve told you to just call me Jenny. Besides, the ‘miss’ part makes me sound kinda old.

Sarah chuckled a bit before she spoke. Sorry, force of habit. Jenny smiled back at her and then remembered something. Oh! I almost forgot to pay you! She reached for her purse just as her babysitter shook both of her hands.

Oh no, no, that’s all right, Ms. Sher … I mean, Jenny. You don’t have to pay me.

Are you sure, Sarah?

Sarah nodded with her usual smile. Yes, I’m sure. Besides, I love Sandy. I would watch over your daughter even if you felt obligated to pay me.

She tried to say something but chose to give up with a soft sigh. Have I ever told you you’re an angel, Sarah?

She nodded with an even bigger smile. All the time. Oh, and little Sandy helped me make some cookies just for you, Jenny.

Jenny gasped loudly as she looked down at her daughter. You made cookies just for me? Sandy nodded dramatically with a ridiculous smile on her face. You’re such a good girl! She hugged Sandy a little tighter as her daughter giggled loudly.

Mommy! You’re squeezing me too tightly! Then she let go and smiled at her.

Why don’t we try out those special cookies you made just for me? Sandy nodded at her as Jenny stood up and walked inside with her and Sarah. And little did any of them notice a plane zooming overhead, searching for something.

Get back here, you little bastard! A man was chasing a mischievous raccoon holding a Subway sandwich in its mouth. Minutes ago, the man had sat down after buying the sandwich for his lunch break when he had his back turned and the dark-eyed bandit snatched it from his side. He chased it down an alleyway with no intention of letting the raccoon getting away with his lunch.

After a moment, he managed to chase it into a corner. I’ve gotcha now, you bastard … Now hand over the sandwich and nobody gets hurt! The raccoon held his sandwich in its tiny hands and snarled at him angrily as if saying that it would never let it go. All right, you asked for it! He bolted forward just as the raccoon sprinted to the side, but he managed to grab his sandwich before it could get away. He tugged on it, hell-bent on not sharing it with the little thief, but it wouldn’t let go. Let go, goddammit!

With a final tug, he fell back, and a portion of the sandwich was ripped off and fell to the ground, which the raccoon grabbed and sprinted up the wall and over to safety. Damn you, you little thief! He swore loudly at the wall, not caring if anyone heard him. He held the leftover sandwich in front of him, and it was dirty at the end that was ripped off. Damn raccoon … He got back on his feet, ripped off the rest of the end of it, and threw it over the wall. Bon appétit, you rat! He fumed as he bit the sandwich and ripped it off, muttering under his breath as he chewed on the sandwich.

When he came out of the alleyway, a ball of laughter reached his ears. So that little guy got the best of ya, Harold?

Doh, shut the hell up, Darrell!

He sat down on the bench set into the sidewalk with another man eating a homemade sandwich. This was Harold Dawson, a regular cable repairman born and raised in Marek City, and this tended to happen every now and then to him. And the man sitting next to him was Darrell McSmith, his best friend in the cable company he worked in.

You know, could you shout a bit louder? I don’t think all of Marek City heard you. Darrell snickered behind his sandwich.

I said shut the hell up, Darrell! He shot daggers at him as Darrell snickered some more. He ripped into the Subway sandwich, still pissed off about what just happened. Normally, he was okay with animals, but he was having a bit of a bad day today. He woke up very late for work, he stepped into a deep puddle, a bird pooped on his shoulder, and now this.

After a couple minutes, he finally began to calm down enough to carry a casual conversation with Darrell. So I heard you started going out with a girl. Is that true?

Darrell nodded with a mouthful of sandwich. Mhm! He paused for a second to swallow the piece in his mouth in order to continue. "A total hottie! Long hair, perfect curves, nice ass!" He laughed into the air, and Harold rolled his eyes.

Always about the ass, huh? Jesus, you are such a perv. He grabbed the coke can and took a swig of it. Anything else you’d like to say about her, preferably not about her ‘nice ass?’

"Well, she’s a great kisser, and she’s pretty sweet. You know, I think this gal might be the one for me. And I’m dying to know what she’s like in bed! Harold rolled his eyes again, muttering the word jackass under his breath. What about you?"

Huh?

I mean, have you found a chick you wanna hang out with yet?

Harold put the last piece of his sandwich into his mouth, swallowed it, and sighed loudly. "Sadly, no. Haven’t found the right one. And unlike some people I know, I don’t go all over the city looking for girls who wanna have some fun in your bed, thank you very much!"

Oh come on, Harold! That was a one-time thing, all right? Plus, I was really drunk!

"And who had to drive you home to make sure you didn’t get killed, hm?" A few years ago, when they were finished working for the day, they had gone to a bar. Where Harold held the drinks back, Darrell just kept chugging every beer bottle that sat in front of him. By the time Harold managed to pull him away from the bar, he was so drunk he thought that his car was a giant tank, and he kept shouting at every girl they passed on the street that he was excellent in bed. He had a titanic hangover that lasted almost a week, and Harold had to cover for him until he was well enough to start working again.

All right, all right! Just drop the damn thing, okay? Darrell shoved the last of his sandwich into his mouth and spoke as he chew on it. Ro, rho’s resk on rour rist?

Harold reached into his back pocket and pulled out a small notepad with a little list of whom needed him to fix their cable. Well, in about half an hour, I’ve got someone named Jennifer Sherwinsky or something about a mile away or so and a half dozen other families today. He let out a deep sigh like he was letting out air out of a balloon. I think I’ll head to Johnny’s again after all this.

You know what? Darrell clapped a hand on his shoulder. I think I’ll join you.

Harold scoffed lightly and looked over at him. Thanks, pal.

Darrell smiled at him before clapping his shoulder a few more times. Well, time to split up. Ms. Hudgenson’s cable ain’t gonna fix itself!

He laughed a little at his friend as he stood up and finished his drink and tossed it into a garbage bin a few feet to his left. Yeah. See ya at Johnny’s in a couple hours, Darrell! They separated as they walked to their vans, got in, and took off into different directions. But neither of them took notice of the rat that climbed up onto their bench and stared hungrily at a bird sitting on the telephone wire above it.

"You haven’t heard from Smith or the others since last Friday? Well, I doubt it’s that big of a problem. You know how they get terrible reception over there. Yeah, yeah, I understand, but there’s no way that it would affect anyone, even if it somehow got loose. Yes, I will notify you if someone from the lab gets in contact with me. All right, now I need to work some more to make sure that the DOD will authorize use of the project in the future. Okay, goodbye." The sound of a cell phone hanging up was heard in the empty corner of the well-known Johnny’s Bar, and soon the sounds of typing on a laptop followed it.

At first glance, the man who sat in the corner of the bar as he typed on his new laptop seemed about as average as the everyday civilian, but one wouldn’t guess that he was actually a scientist. He was wearing a black shirt that read the word Bazinga! in red letters on his chest and some black jeans that were worn at the knees and feet, and he wore a pair of glasses that seemed as average as anyone else’s. And there were a few pieces of paper with the name Thomas Nieman signed at the bottom of them lying beside his laptop.

Thomas focused only on his computer screen as he typed continuously, taking only small breaks to take a few sips from his warm coffee. Despite being in a bar like Johnny’s, he didn’t seem to really notice or care about the men sitting at the front of the bar, ordering drink after drink in a loud voice to Johnny, the bartender. Whenever a man or an attractive young woman, came over to invite him to a round of drinks, he would either ignore them until they swore him off or just refuse bluntly and still get sworn off.

He wouldn’t speak to anybody, except Johnny when he would order for some coffee or a light meal or some fries, a hamburger, and a few nuggets, and he never let anyone see what he was typing. Some of the people at the bar thought he was just e-mailing back and forth with a girlfriend, and one woman thought he was working on a novel since he wouldn’t stop typing. He never moved from that spot as well. All he did was type and type and type, never acknowledging anyone’s existence. And he certainly didn’t acknowledge the fact that the sun was setting slowly outside.

After a few hours since the call that had taken place before, Thomas finally closed down his laptop and sighed as he rubbed his eyes. As he did this, he grabbed the papers and looked at the pictures they held silently. They appeared to be dead animals with patches of their fur gone, and a lot of them seemed to be moving despite looking dead themselves. Damn, man. You got some kinda taxidermy fetish? Thomas shot the drunken man a dark glare looming over his shoulder at the pictures.

It has nothing to do with you. Now piss off and go drink yourself to death. The man swore loudly at him as he slumped away, singing drunkenly into the air. I hate bums … He folded the pieces of papers into squares and placed them, as well as his laptop, into the bag that was slung over the back of his chair. After this was done, he pulled his cell phone out and dialed a number as the darkness fell across Marek City, foretelling the dark events soon to come.

This is Laura Sanders, reporting live from Marek City … Agh! It just doesn’t sound right! A young reporter paced in front of an open news van nervously as her cameraman watched her pace.

Come on, Laura. Don’t be so tough on yourself. Anyone would be nervous about getting a position here at Marek.

Yeah, but I’ve always wanted to come here, and now I’m actually here, the stress is getting to me! Laura paced faster in front of the van as she bit her nails anxiously, and she only bit her nails if she was really panicking.

Just relax, Laura, I’m sure—

What if they don’t like me, James? My career would be over before it started! James got up and held each side of her head, forcing her to look into his eyes.

Just breathe in and out, like this. He took deep breaths, somewhat exaggerating them to get his point across; and after a minute, she began to mirror him. Focus only on your breathing … Calm down … He took a few more breaths with her until she had completely calmed down. There, that’s better.

Laura nodded lightly as she stepped back. Thanks, James … She paced again but only to distract herself from her fears. James DeRobia was her cameraman for the last month and a half, and whenever he wasn’t holding the news camera, he was helping her out with her rookie troubles, just like this. Everyone he met would find him likeable as well as gentlemanly toward women whether or not he knew them.

You know what? Why don’t we stop by Johnny’s? he asked her with a soft smile that made her blush lightly and not hear what he said.

She realized she had not heard him, so she shook her head and focused on him. H-huh? What’d you say, James?

He rolled his eyes with a smile. I said, why don’t we stop by Johnny’s?

Who’s Johnny? A friend of yours?

He broke into a soft chuckle before he explained. "No, of course not. I mean Johnny’s Bar. I hear they make killer burgers and fries and that the beer’s pretty good too. Besides, it’s getting pretty late, and you’ve never been around the city before."

Laura released a defeated sigh as she turned to him. I guess … But I have to warn you, I’ve never actually drank beer before.

He burst out into laughter as he clapped her shoulder gently. "I never said you actually have to try the beer out. I’m just telling you what I’ve heard. All I plan on having is a meaty burger with a side of Marek City fries. And the only drink I’m gonna have is a tall cold glass of Coke!" He licked his lips as he imagined his meal, making Laura giggle into her hand.

I think I’ll take you up on that offer for sure. She smiled at him as she walked to their news van, and James followed her moments later. As she got into the passenger seat, he sat in the driver’s seat, shifted the van into gear, and eased the van into the street as he turned the headlights on.

As they drove off, they didn’t notice the bum holding a bottle of beer in his hand, drunkenly walking along the wall, singing in a tone-deaf voice. He bumped into a few things like overturned buckets and even a large dumpster. After a couple more minutes, he wandered into an empty alleyway and stopped next to a pile of heavy trash bags and slid down the wall, singing badly as he finished off the rest of his drink. When he discovered it was empty, he threw it at the stone wall in disgust. Why can’t there be more beer to drink? Not even his echo answered his question, so he just complained into the open air for a minute before falling silent.

The alleyway was eerily silent as the bum sat there, but something grabbed his already-weak attention that broke the silence. Coming from his far left, the way he had come, came the sounds of some slumped steps. Despite being very drunk, the bum slowly turned his head toward the sound and spotted a limping figure slumped down to the ground. Hey … ! Ya lost, pal? He pushed himself slowly, using the wall as support as he started walking toward the newcomer. Ya don’t familiar ’round here … He heard the man moan a bit, and his limping stopped for a moment to look up. The moaning man looked even worse than the bum. His hair was a greasy mop lying on his head, and his skin looked a sickening gray-green with something dripping out of his mouth. The bum couldn’t tell what it was since it was so dark, but he was feeling a bit uncomfortable from the way he was being stared at.

He continued to walk closer to the man with one of his hands raised out. Ya don’t so good, bud … The man just stared at him, looking him up and down slowly. Did ya just come outta a car wreck? Still, the man said nothing, except moan out to him. H-hey … Say somethin’ already …

Suddenly, the moment the bum touched the man’s shoulder, the man roared out and bit into his forearm, and the bum screamed into the sky in agony. The attacker pushed him to the ground and ripped a large piece of his skin off as blood dripped down his hand. In total desperation, the bum shoved him off and started to frantically crawl away as his arm gushed out more and more blood, screaming out to anyone who could hear him. Help me! Somebody help me! Then his attacker jumped onto his back and started biting his neck like an animal. The bum tried to push him off, but when he did, the man would just bit anything that got in his way. As he screamed, the man gripped the bum’s head, and began to bang it into the ground until, with an ear-splitting crack, his neck snapped. With him now dead, the blood-covered monster began to rip pieces of the dead body’s skin off and eat it slowly. Yes … This looked like it was going to be a dark day for Marek City.

Chapter Two

It was nine fifteen at night inside Johnny’s Bar, and the bar was a bit more packed than normal. This was the first thing Ben noticed as he walked inside. When he looked over to his right, he saw a man with glasses on wearing a shirt that said something that looked like Bazinga! on his chest, whatever that meant and, as he stepped in, a young woman in a light blue overcoat that reached her ankles followed by a man wearing a white shirt with a backward baseball cap. They’re probably together, he thought. And right behind them was another young woman who looked about twenty-four years old, give or take a few years, and she wore a light jacket over a white shirt with three buttons at the top between her chest and her neck.

Ben walked over to an empty table and sat down with a sigh. Within seconds, a man wearing a white buttoned-up shirt and some black slacks said, Evening, sir! What would you like to eat?

He looked at the small name tag on the man’s chest, and it read, Johnny?

Yes? Johnny smiled at him lightly.

You own this place?

Yes, yes, I do. He grinned proudly as he spoke. The whole place is named after me. So! Is there anything you’d like? He handed Ben a menu, which he looked over for a few seconds.

I think I’ll have a cheeseburger with a side of fries with a glass of … Mmm, a glass of Mountain Dew. He handed the menu back to Johnny.

Coming right up! Then he walked off as he wrote on a piece of paper, and Ben knew it was his order, so he just waited in his seat. After a moment, the young woman he had seen come in sat at his table as well with a loud sigh.

I’m sorry. Do I know you, ma’am?

I’m so sorry. I’m just really tired … She held her hand out to him. My name is Jennifer Sherwinsky. Just call me Jenny.

He accepted her hand and