Death is only the Beginning (EDITING)

Chapter XV

Boston, Massachusetts, 4:32 pm
14 days following the outbreak
2 hours following Jenkins' Burial

"Are you two ready for this?" Mike asks as they look up at the gruesome display around Fenway Stadium by the main entrance. The glass of all the front doors have been smashed and a foul smell fill the nostrils of Rebecca and Stacy. An ungodly amount of rotting corpses fill the parking lot and entrance, a swarm of flies buzzing around them. A makeshift barricade consisting of crates lie smashed by the entrance, its front doors lying on the ground. Hundreds if not thousands of bullet shells and dozens of empty magazines lie scattered across the floor as the three carefully step over the bodies and into the stadium.

"I can't believe I'm back here," Mike says with a deep breath, raising his rifle and turning on the flashlight. 

"You were here? When the stadium fell?" Rebecca asks, trying to hold her rifle comfortably.

"Mhm. People kept getting sick and we couldn't just throw them out so the CO decided to quarantine them in one of the large watch rooms. Next thing I know, the Z's were breaking down the barricades outside the stadium, and the doors of quarantine. It was a mess. If it weren't for Jenkins..." Mike pauses, looking at the countless bodies surrounding the entrance of the stadium. "Stick close to me. I don't know if the stadium is still overrun or not. The last thing I want, is to loose you two as well. For Jenkins," Mike says, glancing at the sisters.

"For Jenkins," Rebecca and Stacy repeat while flashing a weak smile at him.

For Rebecca, a strange sense of guilt overcame her as she glances at the scoped M14 she's holding. Though the blood of its previous owner has long been washed off, it still feels like the blood is still on it. Handkerchiefs cover the sisters' mouths and noses, though it does little to mask the horrific smell that is drenching the halls of the stadium. A slight sense of nausea slowly begins to come over Rebecca as she hears a loud squishing sound. Looking down, she gags a little as she sees her foot making contact with a rather large piece of rotting flesh. Crates fill the hallway as they make their way deeper into the stadium, trying their best to ignore the blood covering the walls and floor. They move slowly, Mike's rifle lighting up the gruesome hallway. Each room showed signs of struggle and attempts of survival with set up beds, bags, and crates of supplies build up as barriers, but all knocked over with a swarm of flies behind them.

They stop when loud moaning began echoing down the hallway. Two infected walk in from an open room where a hand drawn first aid symbol has been placed near the doorway. Both infected wore riot armor similar to Mike's, their necks and faces torn exposing gnashing teeth and bone. Mike lowers his rifle as his light hit their faces.

"What are you doing Mike?" Stacy asks in confusion, fear clearly residing in her voice. 

"Have any of you ever used a knife or any other means of self-defense?" 

"Not really. Besides at Targets' parking lot we've only been on the run or had to shoot our way through. But now is not the time for self-defense training!" Stacy says in a loud and harsh tone, fear clearly in her voice as the infected soldiers are getting closer with each sloppy step.

"I think it is. There will be times where you can't use a gun and are forced to use other means of taking out them like a knife or a blunt weapon," Mike responds as he pulls out his knife and presents the handle to Rebecca, ignoring the two infected soldiers as they are only thirty something feet away.

"Mike!" the two sisters yell in unison as the two infected are only twenty feet away.

"Rebecca, would you care to try?" Mike asks, ignoring the undead soldiers.