One Step Ahead of the Devil 1

[snoozing_kitten]

There were zombies everywhere. Koyama grimaced as he raced down the hall; his boots slapped against the floor to the rhythm of his thundering heart, barely managing to keep himself from tripping over his own feet in his panic. There were dried leaves, twigs and dirt littering the floor and the corners giving everything a grungy sort of look. The light from his flashlight bounced around crazily as he ran, it was raining out so there wasn’t enough moonlight to see clearly and what light therw was cast things in long sinister shadows. He might not be able to see but he could hear, wet hungry moans echoing through the empty halls and chasing him. He couldn’t hear their stumbling steps yet, so logically he knew that they couldn’t be that close on his heels, but he was covered in their gore and the thick smell of decay clung to him like a funeral shroud, he could almost feel them clawing at his back. He pushed himself harder, anywhere away from dead grasping hands, from the gleam of teeth through rotted lips, gnashing at his hands and arms as he beat them back blindly. Anywhere but here.

He’d been wearing rather inadequate zombie fighting gear, dressed to move through the night without being noticed and not to fight a small war single-handed. Now he found that he wasn't dressed to stop the chill of his skin, his toes and fingers were going numb with the creeping cold of death and the press of innards against his skin where it had soaked through the thin black fabric on his arms and thighs. It had happened when he’d first entered the old church and thought that there were only one or two zombies and their necromancer prancing around. After all there had only been reports of a few body snatchings so there should only be a few zombies. Can’t have zombies without bodies after all. He could deal with one or two on his own. It should have been an easy job, another chance to show off, but then it had all gone to hell in a few terrified heartbeats and press of the undead trying in their desperate hunger to claw into him.

Right.

Koyama shivered and slipped into a small room that was filled with cleaning supplies and was surprisingly free of the debris that littered everywhere else. He closed the door behind him slowly, carefully so that it didn’t make more than a hush of a sound. So far the reanimated dead couldn’t open doors, they just beat their heads and hands against them making that god-awful hungry wailing. He slid down the door, and took an unsteady breath gagging on the stench of decomposition and fetid meat that was washing his clothes.

God, he did not want to die here.



“I’ve got a job for you.” Shige found him tending to the garden; he was wearing a huge floppy sun hat and floral gardening gloves. He couldn’t help but smile at the uncomfortable look the other man was giving him. Koyama volunteered to help with the flowers in the park near his house. He had to admit that it was quite nice, the garden that is, all bright spring flowers and deep green vines towards the later season.

“Okay, I think I’m getting heat stroke anyways, the weather has been crazy lately!” Koyama grinned, amused at the face Shige pulled. He rather enjoyed toying with the young priest; he was so stuffy and easy to pick on. Sort of stuck up and disapproving of his rather flamboyant nature, but really the only person around here who knew Koyama for what he really was. They walked the short path that lead to Koyama’s apartment complex. "I will go pour us some tea."

"That is really not necessary." Shige tried to stop him, but Koyama already had his shoes and hat off and was moving around the kitchen.

"All work discussions need tea." Koyama replied sweetly. Just to watch the way Shige’s eyes slid away,



Some part of him felt a little bad that Shige would probably blame himself when Koyama never returned, and a larger part of him was viciously satisfied, because this really was Shige's fault. Oh, his flowers were going to die. No one else was quite as good at gardening as he was, couldn’t feel the pulse of life and beauty in the delicate little buds. Shivering against the press of cold damp air Koyama waited until the helpless shaking in his legs and arms stopped, his heart was still beating too fast and he was coated in a fine layer of oily panic-induced sweat, but he was beginning to regain his bearings.

“Oh hell.” He cursed, watching the tremors in his hands chase each other.

He'd actually been kind of excited when he realized that he would need to dispatch a zombie, he'd never seen a zombie up close and expected something like in the movies. Dressed sharply and dispatching them coolly and with an air of flair and bad-assery (it was really too bad he didn’t know how to use a katana because really, how cool was that?) He hadn't been prepared for the stench and the wet sounds of their limbs, sightless eyes and gaping slack mouths. Most of all he hadn't been prepared for the sheer number of them. When he first slipped into the church the place had felt dead as a tomb, decay in the air and the faint hum of black magic pressing against him like a sticky humid day. He'd taken a calming breath and loosened his gun in the holster around his thigh; flicking his light to life so he could close and lock the door behind him, he didn't want any of his prey escaping after all.

The first door had yielded nothing, and the second hit him with a wave of stench, decomposition thick in the air, something long dead but not gone. Adrenaline spiked, priming him for the possible fight on his hands. Taking shallow breaths through his mouth Koyama drew his gun and stepped into the room. It looked like a small dining room, L-shaped so he couldn't see around the corner and fitted with an old stove and a rack of cupboards. Something slithered, making a soft whispering sound and he had tensed. He was about the turn the corner when it came for him instead, stumbling forward and reaching for him with outstretched arms. Koyama shrieked and stepped back just out of the reach of grasping hands pale limbs spotted with black death flashing in and out of his light. He took aim and was about to fire at one crushed eye-ball, when he was grabbed around the arms and something moaned cold air against his ear. For a moment he'd froze up, mind rebelling before his body flowed into action, his elbow came back hitting it hard in the face and he felt bone crunch and give under the force of it, spraying his hair and shoulder in gore and clotted blood. Next he lifted his gun and shot the one in front of him. The shot went high and it stumbled towards him blind in its hunger to the first shot. In his panic he'd used six rounds to take it down. Nails hooked and grabbed him again, the one behind him not dead. He'd turned, catching movement out of the corner of his eye, two more stumbling out from the corner, moaning and drawn to the sounds of the fight. He used the butt of his gun to crack across its face, the rest of the bones giving way with a sickening crunch and more blood spraying across his face and chest. It twisted with the force of the blow and crumpled to the ground and still he didn’t have time to see if it was really dead. Something was trying to claw its way out of the closet behind it, pulling itself forward on its arms, more unholy whining filling the air and seeming to come from all directions at once.

Koyama had run. Back out in the main hall three more had stumbled forward drawn by the sound and Koyama took aim and shot three times taking the closest one down. He wasn't very good at quick-draw shooting and every instinct he had was screaming at him to flee because they were gaining. So he did.

Standing again on legs that felt just a little more firm then jello he reloaded his pistol, a rather unassuming and plain 9mm. Was there enough ammo? What if there were more of them, there was only supposed to be three. Three reported missing homeless, which should have been a cake-walk.

"Fuck me." Koyama swore under his breath, freezing when something thumped against the door. Then it stopped, he wasn't even breathing, gooseflesh crawling down his arms in waves of shivers. Give him fucking ghosts any day of the week. Gun loaded and feeling mildly less terrified for the moment, trying to think rationally, or as rationally as he could with zombies trying to eat him. He shifted the knife in his pack to snap around his other thigh so he could reach it easily in case he needed it.

He could do this.

He pressed his hands against the door, he couldn't feel the slick surface through his gloves but it was solid, keeping him safe in here. So safe he didn't want to try and leave. A small vibration through the door had him tensing, a muffled moan from the other side, like it could sense him there and wanted to get in as badly as he didn’t want to get out. Great.

Koyama breathed deep in through his mouth and grinned grimly, a rather hysterical laugh caught in his throat. He turned the knob and crashed into the door with his shoulder throwing the creature off of it and crashing loudly against the wall opposite. It seemed like only the one so he shot it twice in the head to make sure it stayed down. In the deafening silence after the gunfire he stood trembling softly, spurred into motion by a groan down the hall. He couldn't remember which way he came, and so he set off in the opposite direction of the sound cursing softly, too scared to let loose the scream he could feel banging around his chest.

The church was big, probably had been beautiful once before it had been condemned for reasons unnamed in the city report on the land. All the stained-glass in the world couldn't hide the darkness that seeped through the place, the breath of rot and disease along the back of his neck and stirring the hairs there. His light bounced off the grimy walls and he tried not to listen to the whispers. Not quite ghosts clamouring for his attention from every abandoned corner. He’d do the world a favour and torch the whole place to the ground if he could be sure the necromancer and none of the zombies escaped.

He heard it before he saw the next one, a low moan, then a crash, something thick and meaty hitting the floor. Koyama paused aiming at the corner ahead of him trying to calm his hand which threatened to shake and ruin his shot. He could feel the muscles in his wrist tightening and fighting the shake. Trying to open his mind despite the way that the place kept battering itself painfully against his shields pressing at his skin feeling for traces of the creature, a blacker spot against the grey energy. It came around the corner, pulling itself on its arms, one leg missing below the knee bits of flesh and grizzle dragging along the floor leaving a smeared mess to mark its slow progress, it looked less juicy then the others probably less fresh. Two shots to the head left it still.

He stepped gingerly over the corpse half expecting it to reach for his boot the moment he was within arm's reach. It remained lifeless, wrong choice of words; it remained motionless as he stepped across it to continue down the hall it had appeared from. His light danced over the trail of blood left as the thing had flopped around on the floor in its desperation to get at Koyama's living body. He licked dry lips and used his gun to point his light down the hall, there were a few branches off from this hall, and one of them had to contain the stairs. There was no guarantee that taking out the one in control would release these bodies from re-animation, but in the off chance that it might he had to try. If he could survive getting there.

The roof probably.

Pushing himself forward he tried the first door on the left. It looked like a small bedroom and darkness flicked its reptilian tongue at him, licking down his arms and making his heart beat in triple-time. This room was soaked in blackness, and thick sticky red, his light bounced off the walls, symbols scratched into the varnish on the floor and painted on the walls. Paint too red to be blood, but the random assortment of body parts scattered around the room didn't smell fake. Something in the corner sat up, turning towards him will all the awareness of an animal then two more in the pile dropped something thick and ropey that they had been pulling out of a fourth. Koyama watched in mute horror as it too sat up, all watching him with blind milky eyes.

The door closed at his back with a click and Koyama aimed, mind blank. One low wail that seemed to get them all moving, crawling and falling over themselves as they moved towards him. He waited until his torchlight illuminated the green-tinged decay-ridden face of the first one, mouth painted in blood and something stringy hanging from his chin, dangling and swaying. He fired, didn't wait to see the spray of blood and bone to fire again, flicking his aim to the second in the space it look the body to fall to the floor half his skull blown away by the small calibre bullets. The second was dispatched with the same efficiency. He shot high over the third as it stumbled, but the next three riddled its eyes and obliterated the face leaving it to slump in a puddle of its own gore.

He regarded the last and lined up his shot. It clicked empty, the clip finished. Grimacing he kicked out hard, the top of his boot connecting with its head and sending it flying with a crack. It moaned, still reaching for him, neck bent at an inhuman angle the bone of the opposite arm sticking out and winking at him from a tear in the skin. He kicked it until it finally stopped moving all together, neck snapped completely under the force of his boot, the skin of its scalp cling to the tread and he grimaced dragging his foot on the ground. Panting from exertion he let the light play over the four bodies checking for anymore danger before tucking the torch under his arm so he could reload his gun. Rubbing his hand over his face he found it slick with sweat, at least he hadn't started crying. He could feel the sting behind his eyes, and took a few deep breaths to center himself.

It almost took more focus then he had to make the stone in his pocket glow bright enough to illuminate the small room. He tried not to gag as he could clearly see the severed parts of several people, some of the limbs looked too small, and there was still a watch attached to the arm directly in front of him. Across the walls and scratched into the floor was the math needed to complete a resurrection of this scale. His eyes followed the lines of script, trying to fill in where numbers were smeared or missing. He was dealing with a hell of a lot more than three zombies. Math had never been his strong suit, but even he could tell that there was something horribly wrong with the look of the spidery numbers.

Cringing away from the ugly text and the press of power against his the light wavered, it took too much concentration to keep it steady. When it went out there was a moment of darkness before his flashlight flickered back to life. What would anyone want with so many of the undead? A small army rotting on the spot and lurching around mindlessly towards living food. Koyama shivered. He reloaded his gun and tried not to think of how many zombies could have been created with the amount of power amassed here because if he did then he would need to think about how much ammunition he had and that way lay only despair.

Leaving the room behind almost felt like a breath of fresh air, it didn't smell so thickly out in the corridor and the insistent press of darkness against his mind was gone, madness clawing away at his brain howling and begging to be let in. Part of him was still back there, trapped with the bodies and the power and he couldn't shake the feeling, it left him even more chilled then before, settling thick into his very bones. He stumbled over a thick chunk of plaster that had fallen from the ceiling and he dropped the light, the beam swinging wildly as it fell. He caught himself but stilled, listening to the creak and groan of the house desperately trying to drown out the sound of his own wildly beating heart. "Fuck." Slowly he grabbed the flashlight, moving it around him in a circle to make sure there was nothing there waiting to reach out of the darkness and get him. If he didn't get his shit together he was lunch, or at least a mid-night snack.

The thought spurred him into motion.

The next room yielded nothing, it was a single bedroom with bunk beds pressed against the walls, untouched by the horrors of everything going on here. Koyama closed the door to keep it that way. Gun pointed ahead he pressed onwards, had he circled back towards the front of the building already? He was rather hopelessly lost and turned around in this place. It didn't look that big from the outside, but at the moment he begged to differ.

Another promising looking door he found after he went down a short hallway. He stopped and listened at the door, nothing made a sound, it was just a creepy old church and not a creepy old church filled with zombies. He let out a quiet breath he hadn’t even realized that he had been holding. He slipped through the door and let it shut behind him. Koyama found himself in the main prayer hall of the church, all of the trappings had been removed when it was shut down, but the alter was still there and all the pews extended to the back, a wide aisle running down the length. He was standing off to the side where the confessionals were. Once there had been great sainted glass windows installed, now it was open gaping some wooden planks haphazardly nailed across the huge gaping hole, but it looked like someone had looked at it and decided that it wasn't worth the effort to cover. Let the elements do as they would.

Somehow the air felt a little cleaner here, like death wasn't wrapped around his arms and legs. Maybe it had to do with the infusion of fresh air from the hole in the wall or the better quality of light it offered. Either way Koyama felt more at ease as he swept the shadows with the light beam and stepped further into the room.

Something slithered and thumped to his left, then there was an answering moan to the right and Koyama's spine went straight with an almost audible snap, sweeping his light around and finding nothing. One of the pews rattled, down near the end. The light shone on it but the shadows were too deep. Of-fucking-course.

He took aim and scanned the huge room as best as he could listening intently as the thumping came closer and closer, moans and whimpers that echoed off the vaulted ceiling and making it impossible to pinpoint. He could feel the undead hunger, soulless eyes devouring him could feel the -something grabbed his ankle and he screamed, trying to kick his foot free. When the light hit it, it was trying to chew through his boots, could feel teeth scraping against the black leather. Panic flooded through him rapidly and he kicked out at it again, desperately trying to free his foot. His toe caught the cheek and its head snapped back, but the bruising grip on his ankle didn't let up. He kicked at it again and his foot slide along, tearing a large flap of skin from rotting muscle and his stomach twisted. Another moan, fetid breath too close to his face and Koyama jerked back instinctively, his other foot hitting the first step of the alter. He pin-wheeled for a moment, abdominals tight as he tried to keep his balance but he tipped over hitting the ground hard. It knocked the wind from him and his head reeled.

He kicked out but couldn't free his foot and the other one was baring down on him, all around, echoed by the high vaulted ceiling were desperately hungry moans. He was going to be eaten alive. The realization dawned with the first brush of cold dead flesh against his flailing arms, a low hungry sound pressed against his chest.

The first thing that tore through the haze of terror, primordial fear of being eaten driving him to kick and hit at the bodies pressed against him in a deadly crush, was a roar, something animalistic and deep. It rattled the room it seemed, vibrating in the air in an almost tangible wave of pressure. Not that he was in the right state of mind to be appreciative of such things. The next thing that hit him was a wave of power, dark like chocolate and smooth it expanded rapidly filling to the far corners of the room and washing over him.

There wasn't enough light in the room to see clearly, and his flashlight had been dropped somewhere in his panic, but one moment there was a pressure against his legs and the next there wasn't. The zombie made a truly pitiful noise as it was torn away. With his legs free Koyama redoubled his efforts to kick the one off his feet. He used his other leg to kick at it; the crack of its arm breaking was lost under the wrenching wet tearing noises that were filling the room from the darkness. His heart was beating somewhere in his throat threatening to choke him to death. He kept kicking until it stopped grabbing for his feet, crab walking back hands searching the dark ground for his gun. He had dropped it too like an idiot.

Something moaned next to him, a whisper of cloth that had him jerking away again, cursing as he landed on his side, hands fumbling for his knife. Another snarl and this time it was in the light, corpse of the zombie thrown into the haze caused by the fallen light, lying limp for a moment like a puppet cut free. It twitched and went to rise and another figure moved towards it, moving lithe and graceful and not looking at all like one of the undead. His foot came down with a sickening crunch that peeled the skin of the scalp away from bone and his foot glanced off the shiny dome of its skull. The second vicious kick crushed its neck and spinal cord.

Koyama watched in dumb-stuck awe as the figure drew a gun next. The thunderous discharge of the gun echoed in the room, shot after shot leaving his ears ringing in the deafening silence that followed. The moment seemed to go on forever, Koyama scrambling desperately for at least his flashlight so he could locate his gun, knife held at the ready as he tried to get into a better defensive stance. Long gangly limbs were a hindrance as he kept tangling his legs as every limb trembled and refused to co-operate with him.

"Idiot, you almost got yourself eaten." The slightly raspy voice caught him off guard and as abruptly as it came the power that had flooded the room vanished, like putting the lid on a good smell. It staggered him but he quickly caught his equilibrium and snatched up the light, as his numb fingers bumped into it.

"I'm fine, thanks for asking." He said his voice weak and a lot shakier then he'd thought. His throat felt raw, used.

"You're lucky I heard you screaming." Had he been screaming? The last however many minutes seemed nothing more than a horrifying blur. Hands grabbing at him, hungry mouths snapping at any bit of him they could find. That's when it sunk in, he had almost been dead and all the terror was back with waves of sick panic that made him empty the contents of his stomach, heaving unstoppably for what seemed like a small eternity delirious with the knowledge that somehow he was still alive.

"Ew, stop that." Still the other was rubbing soothing lines down his back. "Look, here is your gun and you're light. You’re alive, it’s okay."

Koyama sat back weakly, trying not to stick his hand in his own puddle of sick. Trying to gather his wits about him enough to check if they were really safe but he was trembling too much to focus on anything other than the seeming lack of air in the hall. The man followed him, a little too close but the warmth from his body was comforting instead of oppressive. He leaned against the other man despite what a horrible judgement call it was, out of the pot and into the fire so to say.

"You saved me?"

"I heard you screaming." He felt a little better with the solid weight of the gun in his hand, like a comforting blanket and hot cocoa. He didn't remember screaming, but he probably had been, felt like he had been. Right, he’d been over this bit before. Focus.

"Thank you."

"No problem." He was handed his light and instantly shone it against the other man. He was dressed in black like a shadow, a blocky black pistol clenched in the one pale hand he wasn't using to comfort Koyama. He remembered the thunderous kick of the shots, compared to the higher whine of his own 9mm, probably a bigger calibre. His face seemed to gaunt, too skinny for a big gun, but that might just be the terror talking for him. "Mind not shining that in my eyes?"

"Sorry." Koyama shifted on rubbery legs until he could stand by himself without swaying too dangerously.

"Better?" The touches were fleeting, one on his elbow and one on his shoulder. Koyama tried to smile despite knowing that the other man could not see him, the effort made him feel more like himself.

"Yeah." Koyama took another deep breath, the taste of gore and rot exploding across his tongue like he'd forgotten it was there. He was really starting to fucking hate this place. Trying to find his focus again he holstered the gun for a moment to replace the knife and arrange his clothes. "Why are you here?" Maybe a little blunt, but given that he was in a church with a zombie problem the way some places had a roach problem it was a completely valid question.

"Same reason you're here I'm assuming." The other man said blandly, reaching out to touch his shoulder again, a barely-there graze of fingertips that he might have brushed off as the breeze if he hadn't heard the other man move.

"Oh me? I just stepped out to pick up some eggs." The other man snorted to cover up a surprisingly cute laugh. Koyama wished he'd gotten a better look at his face before he reminded himself that this might still spell danger and he would need to tread lightly. This might be the necromancer here, unlikely but not impossible. Maybe it was the saving his skinny ass from being eaten alive that instantly endeared him to the other man, but he couldn't seem to help himself. The hysteria was beginning to fade, replaced with the cold knowledge that he could very easily die, he'd been flirting with the realization all night, but shying away from its harshness. Now it was there, huge and looming in his mind, and worst of all he would need to get over it if he was going to survive. Couldn’t fall to pieces at the first graze of zombie against him.

"You're weird." The other man said and Koyama did manage to smile a little.

"I know." With his feet under him and his head somewhat more firmly attached to his shoulders, whoops bad choice of words again, he was more or less ready to continue with this nightmare.

"Have you found out if this is plain old necromancy or something else?" The voice seemed to bob in the dark, and tone like there was really such a thing as 'plain old necromancy'. The beam of light shying away from him, Koyama focused on keeping the light sweeping around the room in case there was anything left. "They must have needed a lot of power to reanimate that many corpses." He flashed back to the numbers and cringed.

"Lots."

"Have you searched the basement yet?"

"No." Going further into the dark didn't seem like the best idea, but what could he do? A second light flicked on, a spot of light against the far wall, leaving the other man shadowed still.

"Name's Ryo." The ball of light bobbed; when Koyama blinked he could see a negative of it printed against his eyelids, bright red against the blackness. "Want to go together?" Said like he was asking him out for coffee or a stroll in the park.

“Nice to meet you, Koyama Keiichiro.”

Just like that he had a partner, still desperately afraid with the too-aware sense of his own mortality, and unwilling to be alone again now that he'd found someone. With half a mind to slip away if he found the roof Koyama fell in with Ryo as they opened the grand double doors to the first four zombies Koyama had met. Flashes of blood and skin moving under the unsteady light, anger flowed through him sudden hot and uncomfortable, anger and fear.

He took aim and fired, a tight cluster of three shots the first taking off an ear, the next entering the eye socket cleanly and the third hit the forehead causing a spray of bone as the light swung to the next target. Ryo stood off to the side, more a notion of presence and muzzle-flash then a face. Out of his peripheral vision he saw Ryo's light switch targets, one moment there was a shirtless woman then the next she crumpled out of the light, gaping hole in her forehead. Even as he watched all of this he was lining up his next shot exhaling as he pulled the trigger and bracing his wrist for the slight kick of his weapon, correcting his aim automatically to fire a second time. He left the light long enough to watch the exit wound spray in a glittering mess. He swept his light over the bodies eyes sharp and watching for movement. In the silence nothing moved, they were close enough to the front doors that he could just holster his gun, take a deep breath and walk away. For one wild moment he really considered it, and maybe if Ryo hadn't been standing right there like his conscious he would have.

But with an army of the undead what was this person planning, and how many would die if Koyama fled? He had no chance of doing it alone, and if Ryo really wasn’t just a wildly improbably helping hand, then he was as good as dead. But maybe they could do it.

"Still okay?" Ryo's voice was gruff and Koyama shook his head, he was usually a far more cheerful person then this.

"Yeah. Let's keep moving." He nodded at a door that was closed. It could have been the door that he'd fled through or it could be something else entirely. The memories of his flight of terror through the halls was fractured at best, he couldn’t be sure about any of the decisions that he had made then. “I came this way before… I think. I was kind of scared.” He giggled nervously.

“Well, we’ll go that way.” He touched the small of Koyama’s back in the chill it felt feverishly hot. It was almost calming, the touch of something alive where everything was washed in death.

They travelled down the corridor, guns trained on the floor, torch-light sweeping in arcs in front and behind. The small hairs along his neck shivered erect and he paused, he was in front and he could feel someone watching him.

“Something wrong?” Ryo’s voice was startling and he couldn’t suppress the shiver.

“It’s cold, I’m all wet.”

“I wasn’t going to say anything, but you kind of smell too.”

“Thanks.” Koyama rolled his eyes, but he smiled. The feeling passed, slipping off his skin easily. He stepped forward, and his foot slid in something wet and he was pinwheeling, trying to regain his sense of balance and he was going to have a huge bruise on his ass after this. Of course that was the moment that something decided to lurch out of a darkened room up ahead. He was landing on his ass with a jarring thump even as Ryo was firing, watched the zombie crumple but not stop, reaching towards them.

The flash of his own gun and the kick of it causing his hand to jerk surprised him, hadn’t even been aware that he was aiming.

“You’ve got to stop doing that.” Ryo said, scanning down the halls for any more threats as Koyama climbed to his feet.

“You’re telling me, my ass hurts.” Ryo snorted and Koyama shook himself out. Not at all surprised to find the source of his fall to be a blood pool leaking out from under a door and his shoe marks on the edge of the pool. “Let’s see what is behind door number two?” His smile was shaky at best; more of a nervous twitch of his cheek but it was an effort. The blood was cold where it soaked through his gloves and the material of his pants.

He stood back, the beam of his flashlight cutting through the shadows down either hall as Ryo took aim and opened the door. Of course, it was like a wall of shadow, nothing beyond but darkness, Koyama glanced out of the corner of his eyes, a shiver travelling down his spine.

“I’ve got stairs.” Ryo said, “Wanna check it out? Got my back?”

“You take me to all the best places.” He grinned, and Ryo shone the light ahead of him, slicing the darkness and revealing unfinished stairs.

“Only the best.” He finally snarked back and Koyama laughed. “Creepy basement here we go.”

The steps were made of wood, uneven under his boots and Ryo lowered himself gingerly to the next step which creaked loudly under his weight. Something hiding in the darkness answered its call with a low hungry moan. A howl of anguish and a thump, more moans until the sounds drowned out the desperate thumping of his heart. That sounded like a whole fuck-tonne of zombies.

“Oh my god.” His whispered plea was lost under the desperate and hungry moaning. Tangled limbs caught in the spotlight flashing in and out in an almost strobe-light effect. Dead and rotting limbs reaching and grasping and stumbling over themselves as they gnashed their teeth and tried to get up the stairs reaching for their feet. His stomach rolled, the smell in here was intense like feces and blood and rotting meat. A grind-house in the heat of summer packed into a single room.

His horror was cut short by the thundering kick-black that echoed too loud in the confined basement. Blood exploded in the mass and it was like shooting fish in a barrel they just pressed closer winding up into a fevered pitch. Mindless mob mentality, almost climbing over each other to get up to them. More shots, and he was trying to target but it was a mess, nothing but limbs and he found a cold dead face and squeezed the trigger adding the higher whine of his 9mm to the fray.

He only stopped shooting when his clip clicked empty, there was a wall of bodies in front of them, and for a moment Ryo stopped shooting and there was a moment of silence before the hungry wailing started up again, muffled as the survivors (so to speak) began to eat the fallen.

“That’s just sick.” Ryo snarled, changing the clip on his gun without looking. Koyama watched with mute nausea, he wanted to kill them but he wasn’t sure if he had the ammo. Now that the crowd was a little thinner he wasn’t shooting blindly taking the time to aim and breathe out with each shot.

He probably spent half of his second clip dispatching the rest of them, most were not even moving, too busy digging hands into the spilling guts and chewing on the rubbery innards. The moans were silenced but the staggering stench remained thick and choking him. Koyama stumbled back up the stairs, his heel catching on the top step and almost sending him sprawling on his ass again.

He laughed humourlessly as he caught his balance, flashlight coming up to make sure the hallway was still clear. He was ready to kick ass. Trembling softly and clinging to the wall feeling drenched in the smell, oily and slimy against his skin.

“Hey.” Ryo shoved at his shoulder and he searched the darkness for the outline of his face.

“Hey you.” He replied without really thinking about it.

“Ready to move on?”

“No.” There was the faintest gleam of Ryo’s teeth flashing in the darkness.

“Too bad.”

“I know.” He pushed himself off the wall and ejected his clip to check the ammo, four rounds left. Ryo mirrored him and then they were off, moving through the dead silent halls, the only sound was the patter of rain from outside and the echo of their boots moving on the hard-wood floor.

So many doors and empty hallways later Ryo finally snapped. “This place is too big on the inside.” Ryo snarled kicking out at a door frame making Koyama jump with the sudden sound of it. “Fuck it.”

“It can’t be that big.” Koyama said evenly, waving his light down the hall and in an opened door, the room beyond was empty, storage of some sort but void of anything really useful unless he was looking for rusted metal shelving. He could use a map, or some more ammo. He’s probably even go for some coffee or tea if it was offered.

“Door number one then?” Ryo cocked his head at a door just down the hall from the one he kicked.

“More like door twenty.” Koyama shook his head, swinging his flashlight down to match his aim, standing on the other side of the door so he could cover Ryo as he opened it. Wordlessly they fell into a pattern of covering each other as they opened doors and switched positions. Maybe it had been the dramatic entrance but Koyama felt better having him at his back, and they made a surprisingly good team.

The door opened slowly, and something fell out knocking Ryo to the ground with a loud startled squawk, Koyama froze for only a heart beat before he took aim and fired. Brains splattered the ground on the far side as the body fell limp on top of him pinning Ryo to the hard floor. He took a shaky breath trying to look more composed then he felt.

“That is so gross.” Ryo whined as he shoved the heavy-set man off of him. The zombie had left smears of decomposition all over Ryo’s clothes and face and faint misting spray from the bullet hole it now sported. He rolled to his feet gingerly slipping and sliding in the blood and brain matter that liberally littered the floor. “Why are zombies so completely disgusting?”

“Because they’re all dead and slimy.” Koyama made a face, gun and light trained on the darkness past the door. He smiled grimly to himself. They had at last found stairs, switching out his clip for his last fresh one. “Going up?”

“Whatever.” Ryo was wiping at his face with his sleeve but gamely nodded once his face was more or less clear of gore, it left long smears of discoloration from what Koyama could see. The stairs were dark more wood finishing, previously white walls painted rust with blood smears and hand prints. He was getting some seriously bad vibes the higher they travelled, dark magic fizzling against his skin and pressing against his shields again. Black magic always happened either on the roof or in the basement, like being at ground level was distasteful or something, maybe it had to do with dramatic effect?

“I think we are getting close.” High was tight and he only just managed not to squeak.

“Yeah.” Ryo growled his voice low and gravely. They pushed upwards, and each step became worse pressing against him like negative pressure. He moved a little closer to Ryo trying to focus on the warmth of the other man and not the chill that was trying to settle in his tummy. A cold fist grabbing his intestines and squeezing them into knots, unfortunately the imagery of the thought was all too vivid and Koyama swallowed thickly, mouth dry leaving a sour taste on his tonuge. At the top of what was probably the longest staircase of his entire life was a plain door, steel with one of those bar latches. The paint was chipping and peeling and if he couldn’t feel the hum of power on the other side it would probably be one of the most unassuming doors Koyama had ever come across.

“You ready for this?” Ryo’s voice was tight and low and Koyama’s mouth moved for a moment before he found himself. The ‘no’ caught on his tongue and instead he pressed his hand against the small of Ryo’s back.

“Let’s go.” Ryo kicked the door and it flew open with a rather dramatic bang, hitting the other wall and exposing them suddenly to the howling wind. At some point the rain had died down to a fine mist, and here was one part of Koyama’s mind which stuck on that fact while the rest was too busy freaking right out.



Part 2