Looking back at the sun, Karl cursed is luck; there was a solar flare that
would last for at least 37 hours. He was
well within the 13 first but the flare was so strong that it prevented any communication.
His high-tech satellite phone was useless.
So was his gps ICE locator. Raising himself to get in position, Karl almost
fell from his high position. His ankle made
a sharp SNAP noise and he fell on the rock. Waves of agonising pain rolled up his spine and
flowed his brain. Through the tears, he saw
that he had dislocated his ankle. Making
a snap judgment, he grabbed the foot with both hands and gave a sharp thug. The ankle went back in its socket and the pain
subsided a little.
Taking a survey of the Zombies approach, he calculated that he had the time
to dress his sprained ankle and did so as fast as he could. Using small branches, he made an improvised splint
binding his ankle with gauze from his emergency kit. 3 Tylenol and 3 Advil was all he could afford if
he wanted to keep a clear head. He stood
back up and Went to the edge of the rock. The first Z was just reaching the bottom of it,
its ugly head turned toward Karl uttering this debeliting moan.
Down and fast went the spear, catching the undead just under the jaw. It was not a killing blow but it forced the head
on the side, exposing the eyes the soft tissue on the side of the head. AS fast and as hard as he could, the man strucked
again. This time, the blade went straight
in and killed the Z. It was almost over right
there as the weight of the corpse almost overthrew Karl to the ground and made him
loose his grip on his weapon. Only pure luck
and fast reflexes kept the man on the ledge and desperation gave him the strength
to keep his weapon.
Taking a deep breath, Karl tried to keep the panic at bay. If he panicked he knew he was dead. So, he sat, took a comfortable position, one that
would allow for maximum strike power while keeping him seated with his good leg
giving him a solid anchor. Looking toward
the horizon, he saw that more of the beast's coming his way. He knew that he would soon be in a world of pain
and danger.
Sidney, Australia.
Roxane Michaud, a Canadian veteran of many missions in the Army had been
sent to help with the Australian Search and Rescue team. The fact that she was a Dark Blood Hunter had been
kept a secret. Though she was petite and
looked sweet as an angel, she packed a mean left hook and could hold her liquor
like no other. At 27, she had seen more fighting
than most and only the aware Zombies in her force had had more experience than her...they
had the unfair advantage of being immortals. So, when the call for an emergency extraction was
made, she did not panic. She kissed her boyfriend
goodbye, wishing him luck in his surfing competition and went to gather her gear.
45 minutes later, she was attending a briefing
that put a frown on her face.
17 hours ago, Karl Main had gone trekking in the outback. No problem there. The problem was that his chosen destination and
itinerary had put him near a swarm of almost 86 Z's. That was Trouble. With the solar flare, there was no way to find
him using technology. Thankfully, the satellites
monitoring such swarm had detected a strong change in the swarm predicted trajectory
and had warned the response team. Using enhanced
pictures, they had been able to spot the architect and his position. Now, it was time for the S&R to go and save
the man.
Captain Michaud took 5 minutes to choose her team; their mission was to rescue,
not kill the Z's. That would be left to another
team. So she chooses her best pilot, Mirage,
an aborigine that could land a chopper on a dime during a force 5 gale. She took the St-Arneaud tweens. Both sharp shooters and quite gifted with a Gatling
gun. Finally, she took Sam Berger, French
descendent who could go down and up a rope faster than anyone alive. They took some first aid material and on an afterthought,
Michaud added a set of incendiary grenades. Just in case they could "mark the spot"
the S&D team.
Within 80 minutes of receiving the call, the chopper was in the air flying
in direction of the possible location of the man. If they did not find him before
night fall or if the swarm made any student change in direction, they would return
to base assuming the man lost and dead...or worst, undead.
The first hour of flight was uneventful. The weather was clear and they had good visibility.
Then, they received a call from base: the man was alive and fighting on some small
rocks that put him just about over the zombies. He was about to be surrounded. The satellite showed that another swarm was converging
on the first one bringing it to a total of 207 corpses. One of the biggest in Australia. Michaud swore under her breath. They would see a lot more action than what she
had planned for. But their mission was clear:
save the man not kill the corpses. So they
would save the man...she hoped.
