[Craythey] Into the Dark [Gunther]

**Craythey** · 05-25-2012

Dallas, Texas
May 2012

Seren was in a rather foul mood today, despite the fact that her outward appearance seemed calm. She was currently touring the University of Texas, but she was not paying any mind to the school or the administrator who was showing her around. Rather, she was focused on what she would say to her parents once she returned from the three week-long cross-country college tour that they had so kindly arranged for her. Appointments with advisers had been made, flights and hotels had been booked, and even the restaurant in which she worked had even been alerted that she would be taking the time off to visit colleges across the US. The only reason she managed to get away with that bit was because she worked for one of her uncles.

In Seren's mind the scene with her parents was escalating into yelling, and she finally told them what she really wanted to which was, "This is my life so fuck off!" But Seren knew that she would never really tell her parents such a thing, as much as she wanted to. Instead she would sit there quietly, biding her time until she had enough money to move out of their house. That was another thing that bothered Seren. If she had been at home, working, she could have saved up enough money to move out by the end of the summer. She and a friend had been scouring the web and newspapers for cheap apartments, deciding that if they moved in together it would make rent and bills even cheaper than going off to live separately. But one day Seren's carefully cut collection of apartment advertisements disappeared from their hiding place. That happened to be two weeks before her first year of junior college ended, when her parents announced that she was going on a college tour. She was sure that they were trying to sabotage her carefully laid-out plans. They wanted to ensure that she didn't move out until they were 100% positive she had changed her mind about becoming a cook and instead chose a real occupation such as a doctor, a lawyer, or the CEO of a major business. But Seren wanted none of that. She liked making food, sweets especially. It always gladdened her when someone enjoyed something she made. To her feeding someone was far more gratifying than anything else. But to her parents it was a dead-end job with an inevitable trip to poverty lane. It only served farther to frustrate Seren when her parents encouraged both her little brothers, twins, to become professional football players. This was a career that Seren found truly useless.

Finally the tour ended and Seren came back to reality. Her guide asked her if she had any questions, but she had none. She was free to explore, but the moment the old man left she found her way out of the school and called for a cab to drive her back to her hotel. They got close to the hotel when she saw a little bookstore tucked away in a corner of town and she had the driver stop. She went in there and browsed for a time before finally selecting a cook book that caught her eye and purchased it. She hopped back in her waiting cab that took her the rest of the way to her hotel. She paid the man his dues, as well as a hefty tip as thanks for the wait at the bookshop. Once she was in her room she settled down on the bed, called room service, and flicked the tv on so she would have background noise while she flipped through her new book. It made her grin to think of what her parents' reaction would be when they saw the collection of cookbooks she had amassed while on her trip. She had not changed the channel when she turned the tv on, so while she looked through her book the news channel hummed in the background.

**Gunther** · 05-25-2012

Damon found himself in Richardson, Texas. He turned onto Waterview from West Arapaho and headed north. Marvin Gaye's, What's Going On began sounding from his inside coat pocket. It was the ring tone for his boss' cell phone. Damon reached inside for the phone and tapped the icon of the green telephone handset. "Stackhouse," he spoke aloud. A blue tooth ear piece was attached to his right ear.

The voice on the phone was Damon's boss, Jesse Keats. "Stack, are you anywhere near the PGB?"

"Yes sir. I'm on Waterview heading north. I can be on the highway in a few minutes."

"Wonderful." Ranger Keats was sitting at his desk in Garland looking over a case file regarding some drug traffickers that were smuggling cocaine into the country through Corpus Christi. One of the leads in the case was staying at a Hotel in Richardson, TX. "I need you to go talk to a Mr. Martin Alvarez. Allegedly, he has some information about that blow that came in through CC last week."

"All right, Jesse," Damon responded to his boss. "I'll go have a word with him. I'll call you soon as I find anything out. Catch you later." Damon tapped the icon of the red telephone to disconnect the phone call. He reached for the radio knob and listened for the news. It was a sports station. The Blue Jays were in town. Damon listened to the radio as he headed to the Hilton Garden Inn on President George Bush Highway. The game was in the top of the fifth inning, the Blue Jays were at bat and the Rangers were winning, 8 to 0. Apparently, the Rangers scored six runs in the first inning. Elvis Andrus, the young right hander from Venezuela was pitching and he was on fire. Listening to the game on the radio set Damon at ease. Hearing that they were winning, made him smile.

He pulled the silver 2012 Chevrolet Caprice into the parking lot at 1001 West President George Bush Highway and parked it. After stepping from the vehicle he adjusted his sunglasses and put his keys in his pocket. Ranger Stackhouse walked inside and spoke to the young woman at the desk. As he approached the desk, he retrieved his identification and showed it to the receptionist as he said, "Ranger Stackhouse. I was wondering if you could help me locate a man by the name of Martin Alvarez?"

The blond haired woman in her early thirties told him to wait one moment as she looked the name up in her computer. Within seconds she looked up and said with a smile, "he is in room 321." She leaned forward and pointed to the elevators, "you can take that elevator to the third floor." The young woman continued to smile at Ranger Stackhouse as he walked away.

When Damon reached Alvarez's hotel room, he found the door ajar. The television was on and he could hear the news. He knocked on the door as he pushed it open. "Mr. Alvarez?" Damon called out as he walked into the room. He could hear the newscaster on the television talking about an epidemic in San Antonio, just over 200 miles south of Dallas. The newscaster spoke as if there was something strange or unknown about the epidemic but that the news station didn't have enough information to tell everybody what was going on.

When the bed in the hotel room came into view, Damon could see an Hispanic male who was presumably Martin Alvarez laying on the bed, eyes fixed on the ceiling, a .22 caliber hole between the eyes and two larger wounds to the chest where blood was seeping on his shirt.

Damon quickly pulled out his cell phone to tell his boss what he found. He then telephoned Richardson PD. After explaining what he found to Ranger Keats and the desk sergeant he returned to the hallway. He turned to the Room next to 321 and knocked.

**Craythey** · 05-26-2012

Seren had been drooling over her new cookbook when a knock came on the door. Hopefully it's room service, she thought to herself. I'm famished. I really, really should stop looking at my cook books when I'm hungry.

The knock persisted but there was no announcement of "Room service!" Seren thought that a bit odd, so she peeked out the one way "eye" of the door to make sure it wasn't some creeper from down the hall. It wasn't, nor was it hotel staff. Instead the man standing outside the door of room 319 seemed to be some sort of cop. Instantly worried, Seren unlocked the door and pulled it open.

Seren was, by nature, imaginative. Give her one situation and a few involved factors and she could come up with several different possible outcomes. So when there was trouble her mind started going off, imagining the worst of what might be going on. Luckily she was a master at keeping a cool demeanor, and so when she faced the officer her face was placid, her voice calm and steady.

"Evening, sir," she greeted. "Is there anything I can do for you?"

**Gunther** · 05-26-2012

A short young woman in her early twenties opened the door. She had medium dark brown hair, adorable brown eyes, freckles, with a decent figure and a scar beneath her left eyebrow. Stack always the professional observer spoke, "Sorry to bother you, miss. My name is Ranger Stackhouse." He held up his identification including the Texas Ranger badge for her to look at. "Have you heard any noises coming from the room next door, anything unusual?" Stack waits for her response before continuing. While talking to the young woman, two Richardson Police Officers; one in uniform and one wearing a golf shirt and slacks, arrive along with a Dallas Crime Scene Investigator carrying what could have passed for a fishing tackle box.

"Are you the Ranger who telephoned?" The man who later identifies himself as Detective Charlie Brooks asked.

"Yes, I am," Stack reaches over to shake his hand. "We got a tip that one Martin Alvarez had some information about an unspecified quantity of cocaine that came in on a ship into Corpus Cristi last week. The rumor is the shipment made its way to San Antonio, but we haven't gotten any more information about it since then. This guy, Alvarez was supposed to meet up with one of our Rangers in San Antonio, but either the meet didn't take place or it went bad. We've lost contact with our Ranger and that was two days ago."

"Have you touched the body?" The detective asked.

"Only to check his carotid; he's dead, no pulse and no reaction to light in his pupils. I assumed this was Alvarez, it's his room. I didn't want to disturb the body until you folks got here."

"OK, thanks Ranger." The detective said. He looked up at the blue hat on his head and said, "Top of the 6th and Toronto scored a run, but I'm sure Texas will take it. Andrus is on fire."

Stack turned back to the young woman. "Well now, the cat's out of the bag. There is a dead body in the room next door. Someone shot him. Do you have any idea what may have happened? Did you see the man? How long have you been in the hotel? Are you from Texas? What are you doing here? Can I see your identification?" Stack would write down the young woman's name, address, date of birth, driver's license identification number and a contact phone number if she has one.

**Craythey** · 05-26-2012

"Nothing out of the ordinary," Seren replied with a shake of her head.

Suddenly some more officers appeared, one in uniform and one in civilian wear. Seren listened as the story unfolded and found herself quite shaken and disturbed to learn that not only had her next door neighbor been involved in drug trafficking, he had also been murdered!

"No," Seren said, now visibly pale. "I never saw him, so I haven't the slightest clue what might have happened." She continued to answer his questions and he jot down her answers on his notepad.

She had been in the hotel for two days now, this being her second.

No, she wasn't from Texas. She was from Biloxi, Mississippi.

She was here because Texas State University was on her list of colleges she was checking out that summer.

She showed him her identification, which told him that her name was Seren Lockeway, and gave him her address and date of birth. She also gave him her cell phone number.

They were just wrapping up their conversation when there came a blood curdling scream from one floor below.

**Gunther** · 05-26-2012

"What the?" Damon looked at the uniformed officer who was standing outside room 321. They both stared at one another briefly to see if the other knew what was going on. His job was to insure only authorized personnel were allowed inside the crime scene. At that moment, that would be Detective Brooks and the Dallas PD CSI. Stack yelled into room 321, "Brooks! There's something going on downstairs. I'm taking your uniform with me to go check it out." Then he turned to the young woman, "Stay here!"

Ranger Stackhouse and the Richardson PD uniformed officer ran to the stair well and raced to the second floor below. They opened the door and saw a man standing about thirty feet in front of them. An Hispanic woman wearing a housekeeping uniform lay slumped on the floor with her back to the wall at the man's feet. She was unconscious and her left arm appeared to be bloodied and torn as if some animal had chewed on it. The man standing in the hallway had been leaning over the woman. He stood when the two police officers opened the door. The man appeared disheveled. Damon could see a pistol in his waistband and immediately drew his Sig .45 Semi automatic handgun. The uniformed police officer did the same. They both stood there staring at the man. It seemed as if several minutes passed when it was just a few seconds. The problem was the man had blood dripping from his mouth. Bits of sinew and flesh caught in his teeth. His eyes appeared deranged, not looking at anyone or anything in particular. The man grunted and made no appearance to draw his own pistol. He did not perceive the two Police Officers as a threat.

More out of training, the young Police Officer yelled, "drop your weapon, sir! Place your hands on your head! Now!" The man stood there with that apathetic indifferent glare. He looked down at the housekeeper and then back up in the direction of the two men pointing pistols at him.

"I don't know about you, but I think there is something definitely wrong with this guy," Damon spoke to the other officer. He turned to the man in the hall, "Hey! Can you hear us? What's going on? Do you need some help?"

The man in the hall grunted at the Police Officers and squatted back down to continue his feeding on the woman's arm. The Uniformed officer reholstered his pistol and approached. He considered using a takedown hold and thought of his handcuffs. He approached slowly watching the man consume the woman's flesh. It was a thoroughly revolting sight and mad the man gag. When he was close enough to restrain him, the man, who was more a creature than a human being exploded into him, biting the officer in the neck. Arterial spurt shot six to eight feet from the Officer's carotid artery. spurt. spurt. spurt. The man's blood painted the far wall red. Damon aimed at the feeding man's head and fired one .45 caliber round. The man fell over like a sack of potatoes.

Damon was mortified at the sight. Why did this man bite that woman? Why did he attack the officer? Why did he not speak to us? Why did he not even look at us? What the fuck was wrong with this guy. These thoughts raced through his head as he stepped forward and squatted down to inspect the corpses. He failed to notice the woman slumped against the wall on the floor three feet from him. She opened her eyes. Her flesh was pale. He heard a groaning noise and looked. The woman was awake. She looked at him with a vacant expression and slowly rose to her feet. Damon quickly stood up and ran back up to the third floor.

When he reached room 321, he witnessed a similar event as the floor below. Detective Brooks and the CSI were both laying on the floor with what may have been Martin Alvarez hovering over both of them. The man was gnawing hungrily on the flesh of both men. A horrified expression consumed Damon watching this visceral scene. He yelled at the woman who was standing in front of room number 319 earlier, "Miss Lockeway! Are you OK?" He pushed the door open. "Come on! Grab whatever you got, quick! We need to get out of here, right now!" Damon's expression was frantic. His eyes were bugged out; more white than brown. For a black man, he was looking very pale. "Miss Lockeway, if you want to live, I suggest you come with me right now! This is urgent". The man who may have been Martin Alvarez looked over at the doorway. Meanwhile, a noise in the stairwell drew Damon's attention and reminded him of the bodies downstairs. "Crap! Miss, we need to leave now!"

**Craythey** · 05-26-2012

When the officers had gone to investigate the commotion on the floor below them, Seren had disappeared back into her room. She figured that if they wanted to talk to her again they would come and knock on her door. But when she heard gunshots she quickly stuffed on her shoes and started packing her bags. There was no way in hell she was staying in that hotel for a moment longer, with whatever chaos was going on. She would ask the officers to suggest another hotel for her to stay at.

Suddenly something on the news caught Seren's attention. She looked up and watched in horror as a man, scratched up, limping, blood dripping from his mouth, stumbled into view of the camera. Shouting was audible from those behind the camera, as the bloodied man attacked the pretty blond anchorwoman.

Seren's attention was ripped away from the tv as someone started pounding on her door. She heard the familiar voice of Ranger Stackhouse calling for her. The panicked note in his voice mirrored what Seren felt. She opened the door, her bag in hand.

"Let's go," she said. She followed him out the hotel, sticking as close to him as possible. Once they reached the parking lot they ran for Stackhouse's Chevy Caprise. Stackhouse jumped into the driver's side, Seren into the passenger's side. Seat belts were thrown on and doors locked.

"What the hell is going on?!" Seren asked, panic plain in her voice.

**Gunther** · 05-26-2012

'What the hell is going on?! she asked. That is a damn good question. What the hell is going on?! That's something I'd like to know.' Damon thought to himself as he pulled out onto the President George Bush Highway and raced East toward Garland. He reached into his pocket and pulled out his cell phone. He panned through the address listings and found Jesse Keats. He tapped the green phone icon next to his name and it began to ring.

"Ranger Keats," Jesse spoke into the phone.

"Jesse, what the hell is going on?" Damon asked his boss.

"Chaos Stack. People are going crazy all over the city. People aren't working. They're dying, but they're not dying."

"I fucking just saw a man eating a woman's arm. The man was different. It was like he was not a man, but an animal or some creature. He attacked a Richardson police officer; bit him in the throat. People just don't act that way; it's not right. What the hell is going on, Jesse?" In the background over the phone, Damon could hear gunshots. He could hear pistol shots and then the loud blasts of a shotgun. "What the hell is going on there?"

"I don't know, Stack. But whatever you encountered. It's here now." Jesse Keets' voice became strained. "Oh God! Oh God! No!!" The man screamed. He dropped the phone. Damon listened. He heard chomping and slurping noises like hogs at the trough at mealtime. There was no questioning what he was listening to. He hung up the phone.

He turned to his passenger, Seren. "Miss, I have no idea what is going on, but those things want to kill us. If you run into any, kill it. Don't think twice, just shoot it in the head." Damon didn't stop to realize that Seren wasn't armed. The only other weapon he had in his car was the shotgun in the trunk.

As they drove down the highway, they saw a few cars pulled over into the median or the break down lane. The dead bodies were sitting in the cars in some cases, draped over cars or simply crumpled up on the pavement. He heard a train whstle. They were passing by the interchange with route 75. He could clearly see one of those things, maybe more in the cab of the freight train. It was heading north toward Plano. The fifth and sixth cars were off the tracks, but the powerful diesel locomotives continued to trudge along at thirty miles an hour. A car was stopped on a crossing. The locomotive smashed into it sending it flying a good fifty feet in the air. The three occupants were tossed through the windows as if they were rag dolls. The locomotive and its cars kept on moving as though it were just another day of work.

Damon focused on the road, swerving to avoid stopped motor vehicles. He struck a person staggering across the road. The body rolled up over the hood, hit the windshield, leaving a slight spiderweb crack and then flipped up and over the car, landing back on the pavement. Out of the corner of his left eye, he caught the sight of a Boeing 747 airliner impaling itself into a residential neighborhood in a ball of flame. "Holy fuck! what the hell!?"

"Well, I was thinking of heading to Mesquite or Terrell airfields. Maybe fly the hell out of here." After seeing the airliner crash, he changed his mind. "Maybe that isn't such a good idea afterall. " He kept on driving. The highway turned to the south and eventually joined with interstate 30. Then he was on 835 south and finally 80 East heading toward Terrell. "There must be more survivors than just us. Keep your eyes open." Damon said aloud and then remembered that this young girl was not from Dallas. "Hey, call home. See how things are at home. Maybe this is happening just in Texas, right? It's worth a shot."

**Craythey** · 05-29-2012

Seren could think of only one reason for this chaos, for the way that people were turning on people and eating them. She didn't want to say it because in saying it she would be admitting that it was true. She would be saying that all of this was real and that it could mean the worst for her friends, her family, the entire world. But Seren didn't have to admit it. She could just as easily deny it and continue to deny it until she believed in her lie, as she was sure many others would. But to deny what was so clearly in front of her was an act of ignorance. It would be like saying that the sky wasn't blue, like saying that water didn't get you wet. And she could not say such things and try to believe them wholeheartedly and not feel guilty and stupid for trying to escape reality while others lived in it knowingly. That was not the type of person she was.

And so Seren said what she knew was true. As ludicrous as it might have seemed, as unfitting the name was for the horror that lay all around them in the city.

"Zombies."

She pulled out her phone and started to call home. As the phone rang she prayed that she might hear something. She knew that it might not be 100% possible, but she could still hope. The answering machine picked up. Seren swore and ended the call, dialed her father's cell phone. After two rings the called was answered.

"Seren?" It was her father.

Seren breathed a sigh of relief. "It's me, Dad," she said, trying to sound calm. "I just wanted to see how everything's going over there. Everything alright?"

There was a pause, then a barking laugh. "Not really," her dad said. "It's like your video game out here. What's that one with the ugly tubbies that spit their throw-up at you?"

"Left 4 Dead?" Seren said, a small smile creeping across her lips, despite the seriousness of the situation. "With the zombies?"

"Yeah, that's it!" Her dad exclaimed. Seren could hear a screeching of tires in the background, the excited cries of the twins, her mother telling them to keep their heads down. "Zombies. That's what these fuckers are. You got 'em too? Are you alright? Are you alone or are you with someone?"

"We got 'em too, Dad," she said. "I'm fine. I'm with a Texas Ranger."

"Good, good. Stay with him. Do what you can to survive. Know that we always love you. And princess?"

Seren started to choke up. He hadn't called her princess in years. "Yes, Dad?" She asked, a small lump forming in her throat.

"Kick some zombie ass." And then she heard movement of the phone, a button being pressed, and she heard her dad say, "Everyone tell Seren you love her and tell her to kick some zombie ass."

"We love you, sis!" The twins chimed loudly, happily. "Kick some zombie ass!" They burst into giggles and she heard her mother reprimanding them for the language before saying, "We love you, sweetheart. Be careful."

With the last of her will Seren held onto her composure long enough to say, "I love you too," with only a slight choke to her voice. The last thing she heard before the call was ended was her dad yelling "YAHOOOOOOOOO!"

Seren couldn't hold back any longer. She didn't want to. She didn't have to. This was a different world now, and she no longer had to keep all of her emotions bottled up within herself. And so she let them go.

She cried openly for a time, unabashed and freely. Her tears and sobs were for her family, speaking of the fear she harbored for their safety, for the relief that it gave her to know that the dark cloud of clashing feelings that had hovered over them for so long was now completely gone. When Seren finished crying she felt better than she had in years. She didn't have to worry about her family now. She still would, but all of them had accepted that life was different now, and that whatever had to be done to survive would be done. People were on their own now, unless they decided to band together and survive, just like the days of old. And somehow this comforted Seren. She had always been annoyed with their modern world. Rather than its original intention of bringing people together, technology seemed to distance people from each other. No one was really self-sufficient these days either--they depended on businesses or factories or government for every little thing they needed. And while people used to look out for their own, for those in need, and for their community, they now only looked out for themselves. But now people couldn't look to businesses or technology or government to solve their problems, and the chances of one person surviving alone was low. You would need at least two. Maybe more. And so people would have to learn to rely on each other again and would have to learn how to take care of their own needs again.

"It's not just Texas," Seren finally said. "It's in Mississippi too. My family's ok. Do you have any you need to go looking for?"

**Gunther** · 05-31-2012

"Zombies."

'Is this what a fucking zombie looks like?' Damon thought to himself. 'Man, what the hell has gone wrong with this world?' Damon focused on the road as Seren spoke to her father on the cell phone.

She sighed and said, "It's me, Dad. I just wanted to see how everything's going over there. Everything alright?"

Damon could see cars pulled over on the highway. Zombies, or what have you were sitting in the cars and couldn't get out. They no longer knew how to drive them anymore. He passed several stores he could see from the highway. 'It might be a good idea to get some camping supplies, ammunition and weapons, if we can find some,' he thought to himself.

"Left 4 Dead? With the zombies?" Seren asked whoever was on the other end of the phone. 'Well it sounds like her family is still alive. That's got to be a good thing, right?'

"We got 'em too, Dad," she said. "I'm fine. I'm with a Texas Ranger." 'She's reassuring someone that she is fine because she is with a Texas Ranger,' the thoughts were going through Damon's mind as he headed south on the highway. 'I'm just as scared as she is.'

Seren choked a little and asked, "Yes, Dad?" a long pause and a possibly whimper from her lips, "I love you too," She disconnected the line and began to weep uncontrollably. This went on for several minutes and Damon allowed her to have her moment. It was perfectly understandable.

"It's not just Texas," Seren finally said. "It's in Mississippi too. My family's ok. Do you have any you need to go looking for?"

"My father passed away when I was 15 and I lost my mother two years ago to cancer. Dad drank too damn much and his liver just gave out. I have a brother someplace, but I haven't spoken to him in at least eight or nine years. We had a falling out over some girl, but I knew it was due to dad. He worshipped the ground that old man walked on. He took it terribly. After I left for college and he moved out of the house, I never heard from him again. Mom used to get a call from him occasionally. He never told her where he was or what he was doing; just that he was OK." Damon thought about his situation and realized he had nothing holding him back. "So, no. I have no one I am looking for. But I'm sure there are others out here looking to survive."

Damon pulled the late model Chevy off the highway at the LBJ Freeway and took a left onto North Town East Boulevard. The next right turned into the parking lot for the Town East Shopping Mall. "Maybe we can find some camping supplies at the Sears here in the mall? What do you think?" Damon smiled and looked over at Seren.

As the car pulled in closer to the parking area, he could see a large crowd of people near the Sears entrance. "Maybe others had the same idea we had?" he muttered aloud as they pulled in closer. Although upon closer inspection of the crowd, it was not the living, but the walking dead.

Damon immediately turned the car around and left the Mall, "OK, maybe that wasn't such a good idea afterall. " He frowned and tried to think of other shopping centers in the area. They headed east along North Town East Boulevard. The street was lined with commercial properties; restaurants, Dental offices, men's apparel, women's apparel, Starbuck's, Wells Fargo Bank, Computer store, Walgreen's pharmacy...

Damon slammed on the brakes. He whipped into the Walgreen's parking lot. "How about we pick up some meds? You never know what you might need, right?" He pulled up in front of the front door and turned the car around so that it was pointed toward the boulevard. He stepped out of the car, closed the door and popped the trunk. He walked to the rear and pulled out the Remington 12-gauge shotgun. He check the choke and noticed that it was empty. He pulled out 8 rounds and fed them into the tube magazine. Then pumped it once to insure there was one round in the chamber. Seren was just joining him. He looked up at here, "Ever fire a shotgun?" He handed her the shotgun. "Let's go inside and get what we might need. Grab a basket or two and fill it with whatever. I'm sure no one will mind if he was just help ourselves." he smiled at Seren and picked up a tire iron laying on the floor of the trunk.

They hadn't seen any zombies outside the walgreen's, but who knows what was lurking inside. The pair headed inside prepared for the worst.

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