A tale of two doors

They call him boss, 'cus that's what he is. The boss. Five years ago the meteors fell and brought with the the alien microbes which would bring society to it's knees. Humanity is already dead and gone, us survivors are just it's final swan song. That's what I am, a survivor. I fancy myself a pretty good one to.

They call me Roach on account of the fact that I'm apparently very hard to kill. Sure I'm a little worse for wear. I lost my left hand to a zombie bite and one ear to a bullet which is still stuck in my skull if doc is to be believed. My scraggly beard is cut short and messy by my own hand as I know better than to let someone else take a razer to me. My arms and legs are covered in scars from countless misfortunes and even my skin looks a bit leathered and worn. I got lost in the deserts around Vegas a few years back and the sun was not kind in the slightest. Still, despite my hangered appearance i'm pretty spry. The apocalypse hasn't put me down yet but each day it gets another shot. Maybe todays the day it finally wins a round. We'll see.

Speaking of today, it's a big day. Boss calls me his right hand man. Partially because I only have my right hand and partially because I'm the kind of person he can rely on to take care of the hard jobs necessary to keep our little group alive. I say little out of habit but that's not quite true anymore. Sure, when boss found me it was just the eight of us. We got off to a rocky start, I was stealing from him. We exchanged a few blows and he's the one who put a bullet in my head but i've got no grudge. That was due to a perfectly legitimate disagreement and lets just say when I pulled through after that he was impressed by my tenacity.

Since then Boss reunited with some of his old military types and that were coming out of some bunker or some such. The kind that didn't have to live through things like the rest of us did, but they brought supplies and weapons we couldn't refuse. We built a camp around that bunker and more and more survivors have been flocking to us. Seems there are new faces every few days now and our little camp is bursting at the seams. Not enough space for everyone to live, not enough food for everyone to eat. There's enough guns to keep everyone in line though so that's good.

Still, a call had to be made and Boss trusted me with it. See, tonight everyone important is going to be inside the bunker discussing what to do about all the survivors camping outside. Eating up the food, drawing the zombies to our gates with their general presence... as it stands we've got a few weeks of food. Or, if we culled the numbers a bit we could live for years off the bunkers supplies. So that's where I come in. While the Boss and his men are safe in the bunker i'm going to open the gate and jam the door to the above ground emergency shelter so none of the undesirable types can seek shelter. Just opening two doors is all, that's how Boss put it anyway but I know its more. I'm condemning hundreds to a grizzly fate.

Still, it's gotta be done. Something has to give or we all die. Now make no mistake. I'm not proud of a lot of things i've done. I'm not proud of what i'll be doing but here is the thing. I've never been a leader like Boss. I'm just a follower. All those years when I was wandering, doing my own thing. I felt lost. I needed some one to follow. Boss is that person for me. He's cruel, selfish and fancies himself to be a king of sorts but he has that force of personality that draws people in. Long as he's alive there are plenty who would follow. Long as he's alive these folks outside the bunker have gotta go.

So I set out into the night with grim purpose. Barrel fires burn through out the camp permeating the entire place with a smokey scent that sticks to my cloths. The dancing flames illuminate the faces of those gathered around them, talking in low voices. A few nod to me as I pass and I nod back without hesitation. My walk continues down the main way, shacks made of plywood and tin line one side and tents line the other. One of the larger tents sits with it's flap open. I can see about twenty people gathered inside sitting on the ground all facing a woman seated on the ground just like them.

That's Doc. People like her, she's smart. She cares. Hell even people in the bunker have taken a shine to her. She's the one bringing all these people into the camp and organizing them. She's saved plenty of lives but not in the way you'd think. See Doc isn't a doctor. Well she is, she's got a doctorate but not in any medical field. She's an astronomer, meaning she studies space. Or rather, studied space before this all happened.

When she first came to camp she looked awfully familiar and it took me about a week to place that face. Before the meteors hit i'd seen her on TV. Raising hell about how they were going to smash into the earth and devastate cities. The government said she was nuts though, pretty much everyone did. Those in power at the time told us to look forward to a pretty meteor shower but to be honest I think they were just trying to avoid a panic. It worked to, we all sat there looking at the pretty lights until they started smacking into our front yards.

She hadn't predicted the space rocks would bring alien microbes that caused a zombie apocalypses but hey, no one could have known that. So people respect her I suppose, she tried to warn us at least and she's still trying to save everyone now. Optimistic and a little foolish perhaps but that's just how she is. That's why she's got to go. Boss thinks it's dangerous to keep her around, she's too well liked and too keen. If everything goes according to plan she dies tonight along with most everyone else in this camp and Boss writes it off as an accident, a failing of the fence. One great tragedy that he'll lead us out of and I keep my mouth shut. Adding tonight's events to a long list of things i'd not like to speak of again.

By now I find myself nearing the edge of the camp and the groans and hisses of the zombies outside our gates is starting to become audible. As I walk along the fence towards the gatehouse I shine my light over their faces. The eyes are milky white and blackened veins bulge under their skin. Some of their teeth have rotted out but those who still have enough make an eerie clicking noise as they gnash their teeth at me from beyond our ramshackle barrier. The alien virus really did a number on these folk. They hardly look human any more. All their hair has fallen out, their limbs have extended just enough to me unsettling and everything about them is just a little bit taller. They stand between six and eight feet tall for the most part. Continued growth seems to be a side effect of that virus.

I take my eyes off them and look up towards the stars. When the meteors first hit they kicked up a nasty dust cloud but that finally settled a few years back. Now, with all the big city lights gone you can see the stars vividly. It's beautiful but i've always found it makes me feel small and insignificant. I always feel that way though, perhaps it's why i'm so quick to latch onto authority figures like Boss. Being a second in command, it gives me purpose. It shrinks my world down enough that I can feel comfortable in it without getting lost in its vast complexities. I like simple.

As I arrive at the gate house I knock on the door and the guard lets me in. "Shift change already?" He asks through clinched teeth as he tries to light the cigarette held between his chapped lips with a lighter that's on it's last leg. I shrug in reply and that's good enough for him. The man stands up and shoulders the rifle he had leaning against the wall. Finally, after a few more seconds he gets the cigarette to catch and takes a drag. He lets out a rattling cough before moving past me towards the exit. As I stand to the side out of his way he pauses and holds out the carton. Only two of the little death sticks are left. That's what Doc calls them anyway. "Want a smoke?" He asks? Likely feeling obligated to cater of Boss's right hand man. "Sure." I reply curtly in a voice that's clearly not used to being used very often.

The man does me the service of lighting the death stick for me and takes his leave out into the chilly fall night. I settle back into the old office chair and it groans under my weight. At my side a tarnished revolver hangs and when my hand isn't holding the cigarette it rests there out of habit. My feet find their way to the table as a little camping lamp strung up above me hums. A single moth flickers around it, fluttering as it desperately tries to get to the light. I know how it feels, to grasp for something you feel you so desperately need. For the moth its light but everyone has something. Doc want's to save people, Boss wants control and I just want purpose. We're all just people trying to do what we need to do.

About half an hour passes and the cigarette in my hands has been burnt to a stub. The last of it's smoke is trailing up in slight wisps from it's location, discarded in the gate house's corner. I stand then, my knees protest and my back pops. I'm getting old, I think to myself. I'm going on fifty now, they're are only a few older then me in camp. Boss and a couple others. There will be fewer after tonight is over. By this time everyone important should be at Boss's meeting. Everyone he values is in that bunker and everyone else is outside. I took care of part two of the plan earlier. The second door that needed to be opened and jammed to stop it from shielding tonight's victims from their culling.

Now all I had to do was open the gate and the infected would pour in like a tsunami. They'd do the rest of the work... I reached up and pulled on a long cord tied to a repurposed church bell. It tolled out across the camp, echoing through the night. It's sorrowful tolling was a warning that the gate had been breached, so everyone could know what was coming and rush to the shelter... A chorus of moans and screeches answered the bell as the inflected at the gate and beyond began getting riled up by the sudden noise. They grabbed and pulled at the barrier, trying to rend it open but it held.

I walked to the gate controls and hesitated there for a moment. If I pressed this button i'd have made my choice. There would be no going back. One second passed, then a second. I don't remember actually deciding to push the button but I did. I pressed and I held until the gate was flung wide. As they poured through I sat back. The iron bars on the gatehouse windows held firm, as did the door. A few of the infected did their best to get at me but there was no getting into this room. So I took a seat and leaned back as the hoard rushed past.

I heard the screams and shouts in the distance, the rhythmic thrum of disciplined gunfire and then the chaotic flurry of gunshots as the lines broke and it became every man for himself. I could picture it. The carnage. The towering infected pouring through the hallways and into each room. Falling upon the trapped souls inside, rending limb from body and gorging themselves. I did not envy whoever survived tonight and had the task of cleaning the place out.

The radio crackled to life over the cacophony of noise and pulled me from my thoughts. "Gatehouse, this is Doc. The shelter is secure, what's going on our there." I smiled wryly but didn't answer. Boss was probably pissing in his pants right about now, see i'd sabotaged a door alright. The bunker door. There'd be a culling tonight, just not the one he wanted because what Boss didn't know is i'd found something new to follow. Now I don't think Doc would ever forgive me what what I did tonight but it's not really her I was following. It was her ideals. Her desire to save everyone. Truth be told I didn't think she had a snowballs chance in hell of accomplishing it but it felt good to try.

After the the dust had settled and the camp had been retaken by the living they had found me there in the gatehouse, waiting. It was pretty cut and dry what had happened but I confessed anyway. People would need someone to blame this on so they could feel safe again. When they asked why I told them I held a grudge against the Boss for shooting me in the head all that time ago. They bought it I think, except for Doc. She knew there was something more but I never shared my real reasoning with her. The others elected her leader and she saw to it I got a trial. My fellow survivors decided I deserved death for what i'd done. That was fine by me. Truth be told I was tired after all this time. My conscience has been heavy for a while and carrying it had exhausted me years ago.