Wormwood Dawn (Episode IV)

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Authors: Edward Crae
Tags: Zombies
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groan.
    Another pop, and the frame buckled; bending outward enough to grab its left edge. Dan dropped the chain again and grabbed the exposed edge, bracing himself against the wall with his foot. He pulled with all his might, feeling the frame give way. It protested with a whining creak, but bent farther and farther until another bolt popped. Mike reached up and grabbed the frame farther down, and the two jerked it loose, letting it fall to floor.
    Dan stared up at the empty window jamb, almost trance-like. The prospect of walking in the open air again had stunned him, and he almost felt afraid.
    “Go, man,” Mike said, bending down and cupping his hands together to boost him up.
    Dan nodded, stepping into Mike’s hands. He was definitely going to have to struggle to get through the narrow gap, but he was willing to risk injury. He stuck his head through, taking in the fresh, damp air, and scouting the area outside. The landscape seemed unfamiliar, as if the neighborhood had changed somehow.
    “Is it clear?” he heard Mike ask.
    “Not sure,” Dan groaned as he struggled to find something to grab onto. “Push me through.”
    He helped as much as he could; digging his fingers into the mud and clawing to get a grip. It gave way too easily, but he was able to grab the edges of the concrete portal and shimmy through halfway. Though it was a tight fit, his complete lack of ass would ensure that he could get out.
    Finally, he was free. He laid there in the mud for a moment to catch his breath, and then turned around to help Mike get out. He grabbed Mike’s hand and pulled, bracing himself against the window. He looked around as he helped, seeing that they were indeed at the same house. The neighborhood had simply been bombed, as was the rest of the forest, and everything lay in waste.
    His house was no doubt in ruins.
    “I’m too fat!” Mike said. “I can’t get my gut out.”
    “Suck it in,” Dan said. “Fuck the pain.”
    Mike groaned, wiggling his waist from side to side, gasping as the concrete edges scraped against his skin. Finally, he managed to squeeze out, and he staggered to his feet.
    “Where the fuck are we?” he asked, breathlessly.
    “Old state road 37,” Dan said. “Near the state forest.”
    “Jesus, man,” Mike exclaimed. “What happened?”
    Dan started off toward the street. “Gephardt,” he said. “That’s what happened.”
    Mike caught up to him, still huffing from the ordeal. “Where are you heading?”
    “I’m going home,” Dan said. “If it’s still there, I’m gathering supplies and heading to Bloomington.”
    “For what? That town’s probably swarming with zombies.”
    “My friends are there. They were taken during a firefight for some reason. I have to get them out.”
    Mike nodded. “Okay, man,” he said. “But I think I need to go home, too. I’m worried that this freak will hunt me down, though.”
    Dan shook his head. “I think you’re alright,” he said. “He’s after me.”
    “Fuck,” Mike said. “I suppose I need to find a car or something.”
    “Follow me,” Dan said. “There are a ton of Hummers at my place.”
     
    It took nearly a half hour for the two of them to reach the creek. Along the way, they were both shocked at the amount of destruction left behind by the airstrike. It seemed like the entire forest had been burnt to the ground, and only the bare trunks of a few trees remained standing. It didn’t even look like the same area.
    Dan’s heart sank when he spotted his house. There was nothing left but the block foundation, the chimney, and a huge pile of rubble that was once his home. He stopped in his tracks, feeling the rage build within him. Mike was silent, letting Dan grieve on his own.
    Dan’s memories came flooding back; memories of his dad, his drunken nights alone, and the good times he had spent with his little plague posse— if you could really call them good times.
    “There are probably five Hummers sitting on the

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