Chapter 19: Traped- Piègé

Mat, his sword in his right hand went to the first door on his floor and knocked. A man opened it and pointed his S.W 0.35mm in Matthiew’s face. Moving faster than the man holding the gun could believe, he turned the gun away from him and in the same movement, took his desert eagle and placed the cannon under his chin: “I’m from the CIA. You and your family will move to the roof. Take enough water to last 6 hours and food to last 4. Take as much ammo as you can and wait for other survivors. You will hear a loud sound: the stair case collapsing. After that, if you hear moaning and groaning, kill the people coming through. Aim for the head.” Mat repeated the message throughout the 4th floor than moved to the third and second floor. The first was lost with over 40 Z’s around.
The bodies were in good condition. Recently dead mostly with only one or two dead for longer and in a more advanced state of decay. In a corner, a small boy cried silently while the zombies feasted on the remains of this floor habitants. Mat understood the plan: if he went in to save the ignored boy, the Z’s would kill him and then kill the boy. If he did not show himself, they would kill the boy anyway. Mat thought about it for about 20 seconds. Then, something one of his math teachers once said came back to his mind: “in an equation, when there is a variable that doesn’t make any sense appears, simply remove it. Then, the problem should make sense and once he is resolved, you will be able to put the variable in it again and solve it for good.” Putting his sword back in his scabbard, Mat took his riffle and carefully aimed at the child and shoot him right through his heart. The voice was back in his head, sounding somewhat surprised: “Well, I never thought that you would kill the child instead of trying to save him. From what I had heard, you, agency people are supposed to be big softies. That’s a surprise…”.
Mat thought his answer carefully: “I I’m not with the agency. And I will come for you. Wait for me, Michelle.” Then, he aimed his riffle at the staircase which was rigged with everything from lighter gas to propane tanks and shot. The resulting explosion was enough to completely destroy the staircase and send shrapnel of molten metal everywhere. Mat, having taken refuge behind a sturdy wall was quite safe. But the small swarm was badly hit. Most of the Z’s took heavy damage but none was hit in a meaningful way. Mat, sighing, started to aim for their head with more or less success. The Z’s ere avoiding him, bending or hiding behind walls, doors and furniture. Obviously, Michelle was doing her job. At least, the explosion and the sound of gun fight would be enough to alert the police that something serious was going on.
Mat took a steadying breath and hid his riffle. Taking his sword in his hand, he calmly moved toward the mass of walking cadavers. Using everything he knew from his training in martial arts, he became a whirling blade and limbs, hacking and crushing everything that came near him. At the same time, he did his best to behead as many Z’s as he could, knowing that the one he did not get right away would be back to “bite him in the ass” as Thompson would have said. Things got confused at that point. Mat would later describe what followed as: “A blur of images from Dante’s worst nightmare meet Romero’s Day of the dead remakes.” It was brutal, fast, and messy. Mat received more than one blow and surprisingly felt them. Which did not make any sense since he was dead! But he did not have the time to think about it since there were still too many of “them” for only one “him”. During the melee, he had lost his sword, both his guns were useless since he had shoot every cartridge he had, his batons had been stripped from him, buried in 2 Z’s skulls and his riffle was too far away to be of any good. Mat was left with only his hands and feet as weapons. They were excellent weapons but there were at least half of the zombies still capable of attacking and harming him.
He had no more choices. It was time for him to change. Mat used a break in the attacks to remove most of his cloths. Then, he changed himself and became the Dark Blood Hunter. Mat, relishing in the sensation of being this being started to rip heads from their necks as fast as he could. Moving an arm there, he simply snapped his fingers at the neck severing the head in the same move. There, kicking upward, he sent the head toward the wall where it exploded. Here, he squished the neck of the Z so hard, the head simply popped like a champagne cork. Laughing at this last one, he started to squash the remaining heads and kept this one for the end, still laughing out loud.
That’s how he found him, half naked, laughing hysterically at a squashed head, discarded weapons everywhere, blood and gore on the walls and a small boy slowly coming back to himself. His cry for help calmed Mat who went to him. Without touching the kid, he made certain that the bullet had gone through his shoulder and had not done any more damage than the one intended. Then, hearing noise behind him, he turned on his left leg and aimed a heel kick at the head of his attacker. His intended target simply moved back a step and avoided the kick then, he threw a bottle off antiseptic to Mat and moved to check and patch the kid. Once he was finished, he rose and looked at Mat from under his hat.
“Well kid, that was one hell of a fight. Remind me to never get on your bad side. Now, I knew you would turn out O.K., but the boss said you would not. Thanks to you, I just won a lot of money. How about we find the one responsible for this mess you and I and after we have dealt with it, we discuss your future?” Without waiting for Mat’s answer, he walked away from the mess, dropping the kid in the hands of paramedics just coming through the door. Mat looked puzzled at the man’s retreating back and his long trench coat.

Chapter 19: Traped- Piègé
Mat, his sword in his right hand went to the first door on his floor and knocked. A man opened it and pointed his S.W 0.35mm in Matthiew’s face. Moving faster than the man holding the gun could believe, he turned the gun away from him and in the same movement, took his desert eagle and placed the cannon under his chin: “I’m from the CIA. You and your family will move to the roof. Take enough water to last 6 hours and food to last 4. Take as much ammo as you can and wait for other survivors. You will hear a loud sound: the stair case collapsing. After that, if you hear moaning and groaning, kill the people coming through. Aim for the head.” Mat repeated the message throughout the 4th floor than moved to the third and second floor. The first was lost with over 40 Z’s around.
The bodies were in good condition. Recently dead mostly with only one or two dead for longer and in a more advanced state of decay. In a corner, a small boy cried silently while the zombies feasted on the remains of this floor habitants. Mat understood the plan: if he went in to save the ignored boy, the Z’s would kill him and then kill the boy. If he did not show himself, they would kill the boy anyway. Mat thought about it for about 20 seconds. Then, something one of his math teachers once said came back to his mind: “in an equation, when there is a variable that doesn’t make any sense appears, simply remove it. Then, the problem should make sense and once he is resolved, you will be able to put the variable in it again and solve it for good.” Putting his sword back in his scabbard, Mat took his riffle and carefully aimed at the child and shoot him right through his heart. The voice was back in his head, sounding somewhat surprised: “Well, I never thought that you would kill the child instead of trying to save him. From what I had heard, you, agency people are supposed to be big softies. That’s a surprise…”.
Mat thought his answer carefully: “I I’m not with the agency. And I will come for you. Wait for me, Michelle.” Then, he aimed his riffle at the staircase which was rigged with everything from lighter gas to propane tanks and shot. The resulting explosion was enough to completely destroy the staircase and send shrapnel of molten metal everywhere. Mat, having taken refuge behind a sturdy wall was quite safe. But the small swarm was badly hit. Most of the Z’s took heavy damage but none was hit in a meaningful way. Mat, sighing, started to aim for their head with more or less success. The Z’s ere avoiding him, bending or hiding behind walls, doors and furniture. Obviously, Michelle was doing her job. At least, the explosion and the sound of gun fight would be enough to alert the police that something serious was going on.
Mat took a steadying breath and hid his riffle. Taking his sword in his hand, he calmly moved toward the mass of walking cadavers. Using everything he knew from his training in martial arts, he became a whirling blade and limbs, hacking and crushing everything that came near him. At the same time, he did his best to behead as many Z’s as he could, knowing that the one he did not get right away would be back to “bite him in the ass” as Thompson would have said. Things got confused at that point. Mat would later describe what followed as: “A blur of images from Dante’s worst nightmare meet Romero’s Day of the dead remakes.” It was brutal, fast, and messy. Mat received more than one blow and surprisingly felt them. Which did not make any sense since he was dead! But he did not have the time to think about it since there were still too many of “them” for only one “him”. During the melee, he had lost his sword, both his guns were useless since he had shoot every cartridge he had, his batons had been stripped from him, buried in 2 Z’s skulls and his riffle was too far away to be of any good. Mat was left with only his hands and feet as weapons. They were excellent weapons but there were at least half of the zombies still capable of attacking and harming him.
He had no more choices. It was time for him to change. Mat used a break in the attacks to remove most of his cloths. Then, he changed himself and became the Dark Blood Hunter. Mat, relishing in the sensation of being this being started to rip heads from their necks as fast as he could. Moving an arm there, he simply snapped his fingers at the neck severing the head in the same move. There, kicking upward, he sent the head toward the wall where it exploded. Here, he squished the neck of the Z so hard, the head simply popped like a champagne cork. Laughing at this last one, he started to squash the remaining heads and kept this one for the end, still laughing out loud.
That’s how he found him, half naked, laughing hysterically at a squashed head, discarded weapons everywhere, blood and gore on the walls and a small boy slowly coming back to himself. His cry for help calmed Mat who went to him. Without touching the kid, he made certain that the bullet had gone through his shoulder and had not done any more damage than the one intended. Then, hearing noise behind him, he turned on his left leg and aimed a heel kick at the head of his attacker. His intended target simply moved back a step and avoided the kick then, he threw a bottle off antiseptic to Mat and moved to check and patch the kid. Once he was finished, he rose and looked at Mat from under his hat.
“Well kid, that was one hell of a fight. Remind me to never get on your bad side. Now, I knew you would turn out O.K., but the boss said you would not. Thanks to you, I just won a lot of money. How about we find the one responsible for this mess you and I and after we have dealt with it, we discuss your future?” Without waiting for Mat’s answer, he walked away from the mess, dropping the kid in the hands of paramedics just coming through the door. Mat looked puzzled at the man’s retreating back and his long trench coat.
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Mat, son épée à la main droite se rendit à la première porte sur son étage et frappa. Un homme l’ouvrit et lui pointa son S.W 0.35mm en plein visage. Bougeant plus vite que l’oeuil, Mat détourna l’arme de l’homme, sorti un desert eagle et le plaça sous le menton de l’homme stupéfié : « Je suis de la C.I.A. Votre famille et vous allez vous rendre sur le toit. Prenez assez d’eau pour survivre 6 heures et de la nourriture pour 4. Apportez autant de munitions que vous pouvez et attendez les autres survivants. Vous allez entendre l’escalier s’effondrer dans un énorme fracas. Par la suite, si vous entendez des grognements et des gémissements, tuez tout ce qui fera se son. Visez la tête. » Mat répéta son message tout au long des étages jusqu’à ce qu’il soit rendu au premier. Il vit que le premier étage était perdu. Près de 40 Zed’s se promenaient sur cet étage dévorant tout sur leur passage.
Les corps étaient en bon état, la plupart étaient mort depuis quelques temps seulement. Il y avait un ou deux corps plus décomposés. Dans un coin, un petit garçon pleurait silencieusement pendant que les zombies mangeaient les habitants de cet étage. Mat comprit immédiatement l’idée : s’il fonçait pour sauver le jeune garçon, il se ferait tuer et l’enfant serait la prochaine cible. S’il n’y allait pas, l’enfant se ferait manger de toute manière. Mat réfléchit un bon 20 secondes. Puis, une phrase qu’un de ses prof de math disait lui revient en mémoire : dans une équation mathématique, lorsqu’une variable apparaît qui ne fait aucun sens, simplement la retirer. Le problème ferait alors du sens et pourrait être résout. Une fois la réponse trouvé, simplement replacer la variable dans l’équation et on trouvait immédiatement la réponse. » Rangeant son épée, Mat prit sa carabine, visa soigneusement l’enfant et lui tira une balle en plein cœur. La voix était de retour dans sa tête, sonnant surprise : « Hé bien, je n’aurais jamais cru que tu tuerais l’enfant au lieux de tenter de le sauver. Ce que j’avais entendu concernant les gens de l’Agence, vous seriez des mous. C’est toute une surprise. »
Mat formula sa réponse soigneusement : « Je ne suis pas avec l’Agence. Je viens te chercher, Michelle. Attends-moi. » Puis, il visa l’escalier qu’il avait piégé avec des bombonnes de propane pour BBQ, de briquets et tout ce qu’il pouvait trouver d’explosif. Il se cacha derrière un solide mur et tira. L’explosion qui s’en suivit fit valser des morceaux de métaux brûlant et détruisit l’escalier. Mat s’en tira indemne mais l’essaim de Zed’s fut gravement touché. Malheureusement, aucun ne fut touché mortellement. Soupirant, Mat commença à tirer les Zed’s à la tête avec plus ou moins de succès. Les Zed’s l’évitait! Ils se penchaient, se cachaient derrière les murs et les meubles. Visiblement, Michelle était à l’œuvre. Au moins, le son de l’explosion et les coups de feu seraient suffisants pour attirer la police et leur faire comprendre que c’était sérieux.
Mat prix une respiration pour se calmer et cacha sa carabine. Il sortit son épée marcha calmement vers la masse de morts vivants déterminés à le tuer. Utilisant toutes les techniques apprises dans ses études d’arts martiaux il devint une véritable tornade de lame et de membres coupant et détruisant tout sur son passage. Il tentait de décapiter le plus de Zed’s possible sachant que chaque monstre reviendrait le « mordre au derrière » comme dirait Thompson. Les choses devinrent confuses après ça. Mat utiliserait ces mots pour décrire la scène : « C’était un mélange flou entre les pires cauchemars de Dante et un film de Romero ». C’était brutal, salissant et rapide. Mat reçut plus d’un coup et à sa grande surprise, il sentit chacun d’entre eux. Ça ne faisait aucun sens puisqu’il était mort!!! Il n’avait pas le temps d’y réfléchir puisqu’il y avait trop d’ « eux » et un seul « lui ». Pendant la mêlée, il perdit son épée, ses pistolets étaient inutiles depuis qu’il avait utilisé toutes ses munitions, ses bâtons étaient enfoncés dans les crânes de deux zombies et sa carabine était trop loin pour être d’une quelconque utilité. Il ne lui restait que ses membres comme armes. C’étaient d’excellentes armes mais il restait près de la moitié des Zed’s encore en état de le blesser.
Il n’avait plus le choix : il était temps de se métamorphoser. Ma profita d’une accalmie dans les attaques des Zed’s pour enlever la plupart de ses vêtements et se métamorphosa pour devenir le Chasseur de sombre sang. Mat, jouissant d’être sous cette forme entreprit d’arracher des têtes aussi rapidement qu’il le pouvait. Bougeant son bras, il fit un rapide mouvement de la main et décapita une tête. Puis, frappant du pied, il envoya une tête vers le mur où elle éclata. Puis, il attrapa un cou qu’il serra si fort que la tête s’envola comme un bouchon de champagne. Éclatant de rire à cette image, il piétina les têtes restantes sur le sol mais gardant cette dernière pour la fin, rigolant toujours.
C’est ainsi qu’il fut trouvé, riant hystériquement en regardant les têtes éclatées, des armes laissées éparses un peu partout, du sang et des viscères partout sur les murs et un petit garçon qui revenait lentement à lui. Son cri de douleur calma Mat et il se dirigea vers lui. Sans toucher l’enfant, il s’assura que la balle avait bien traversé l’épaule et n’avait pas fait plus de dommages que prévu. Puis, entendant du bruit derrière lui, il se retourna et envoya un coup de talon à la tête de son agresseur. Sa victime fit simplement un pas de côté, évitant le pied et lançant une bouteille d’antiseptique à Mat se dirigea vers l’enfant pour l’examiner et le panser. Lorsqu’il eu terminé, il se redressa et jeta un oeuil à Mat de sous son chapeau.
« Alors le jeune, ça a été toute une bataille. Rappelle-moi de ne jamais être dans une bataille contre toi. Bon, je savais que tu t’en sortirais indemne mais le patron disait que tu aurais besoins d’aide. Grâce à toi, j’ai gagné une bonne somme d’argent. Qu’est-ce que tu dirais qu’on trouve ceux responsable de ce gâchis, qu’on s’en occupe et qu’on discute de ton avenir après? Sans attendre pour la réponse, il se dirigea vers la sortie, laissant l’enfant aux bons soins d’un paramédic qui entrait par la porte à ce moment. Mat regarda surpris l’homme au manteau long s’éloigner.