The Zombie Chronicles: Road to Sanctuary

The sun was three-quarters through the sky by the time the four arrived outside the museum. The outside had wrecked cars scattered all throughout, but none were in the group’s way. However, the two massive doors leading inside were blocked from the other side, as Daisuke found out when he tried to open them.

“Shit... how strong are those motorbikes?” Daisuke asked the three.

Rojo chuckled, pressing a few buttons on her arm.

“Bikes? Who said we need the bikes...?” She pointed her arm toward the doors, moving her wrist down to keep her hand clear.

With a solid blast, both doors were reduced to rubble. Rojo and Azul shared a high-five while Daisuke cautiously looked around him. Sure enough, he spotted two zombies charging toward the new noise.

“Guys-- at our 5’.” He pointed towards the two infected bodies.

Rojo sighed and readied her cannon again.

“No! That could just bring more of them on us...” Daisuke said, grabbing a tire iron from Rojo’s bike.

Rojo rolled her eyes and Amarillo pulled a bowie knife from her hip.

Together, the two jump to action against the infected. Daisuke bashed the closest runner in the leg, bringing it to the ground as he brings the iron down onto the second-closest's head. Amarillo stabbed the one remaining in the chest, holding it close to her and glaring into its eyes. Once she was sure the life from the zombie was drained, she pushed it to the ground...

“Not bad. Come on, let’s go.” Rojo ordered.

Unsatisfied, Daisuke holds the iron and brings it down onto the head of the zombie who’s legs he whacked, leaving a messy pile of skin, brains, and skull.

Rojo watches the brutal execution in awe and shock.

“Damn, didn’t think you had it in you--”

She was cut off as Daisuke did the same execution to the one he already beat...

“Uh, you good, dude?”

Not answering her, he proceeded to swing the iron to the side of the final zombie, sending the contents of its head flying into the air.

“Dude?! Fuck, got some rage issues you wanna talk about.” Rojo asked him.

Panting for breath, Daisuke stepped away, putting the bloody tire iron back where he found it, much to Rojo's annoyance.

“Just making sure...” Daisuke said, mentally repeating what Scootaloo said she encountered.

Rojo nervously chuckled at that. Looking at the opened museum, the four made their way inside. The inside was a bloody mess, with streaks and puddles littering the walls and floor. Many of the paintings were untouched, however, much to Daisuke’s delight.

“Okay... so, we’re here—want us to grab whatever isn’t bolted down?” Azul asked him.

“That’s the plan. Just grab the paintings and keep an eye out... I’m gonna look around, see if there’s anything that stands out.”

With an affirmative nod, the bikers went right to work.

“Hey, so quick question—why couldn’t we have robbed a bank or something? Why’re we going through these stupid drawings?” Amarillo asked.

Daisuke bit his tongue when he heard her comment.

“Well... these ‘drawings’ are worth just as much as you’d find in a bank—maybe more—and they’re not even half the weight. Also, the banks were filled with people when the infected rolled in... odds are, they’re much more infested than this museum could ever be.”

With his point made, Amarillo nodded and went back to work.

Daisuke headed deeper into the museum, searching for anything that he could tell had value.

“No... definitely not that one. Maybe...? No, that’s a fake.” He mumbled to himself, passing paintings, artifacts, and small busts.

As his search became fruitless, he sighed and stepped into a men’s bathroom, glancing into the mirror, deep into his own reflection. It was almost as if he was expecting a different visage to appear before him.

“I know you’re in there, old friend... I wouldn’t have been considered Enhanced otherwise. Talk to me, man... I kinda need you, here. You were always the expert on this type of thing.”

As he stared again, he began to feel a prescience. He could feel it in the walls, throughout the entire room... The sensation was very familiar to Daisuke, who didn’t budge upon sensing his old friend.

“There you are,” Daisuke smiled, stepping away from the mirror, “I assume you’ll know which one here’s the one for her.”

He stepped away from the bathroom mirror. Heading back into the halls, he began searching again.

As he passed several art pieces, a light breeze blew toward him. Stopping, he turned and saw a simple golden crown on a pedestal.

“Really? This one? Don’t you think something a bit more... sophisticated would work?”

A quick breeze was his only answer. Rolling his eyes, he picked up the crown.

“Fine, if you say so...”

Before he could bag it up, he heard a few clatters from further into the museum.

“Rojo, that you?!” He asked.

There wasn’t any response. Feeling uneasy, Daisuke unholstered the pistol on his hip and cautiously walked down the hall, leaving the crown on the pedestal.

As he advanced, he began to smell an intense rot. Gagging for a moment, he covered his mouth and nose with his shirt before advancing.

He began to hear flies buzzing in the distance, immediately growing weary...

“Hey, ‘Suke! This place is trashed. Let’s just get what we need!” He finally heard Rojo say.

Daisuke heard her voice and stepped away, eager to get back to work.

However, the sounds pulled his attention back.

It sounded like breathing, but more like a rattle. Like there was no air that this being was taking in or letting out...

Then he heard more just like it. Rapidly getting closer.

“Uh... dude, you hear that, too?” Rojo asked, stepping from an adjacent hallway.

As the two stepped towards the noises, both armed, they began to hear the shuffling footsteps...

“Oh, shit.” Daisuke said, realizing what they had encountered.

Before either could react, they saw several bodies shuffle from the deeper museum. Each of them showed different stages of decay, but they all had flies festering over them as they growled and shambled toward the two.

“What the fuck?” Rojo asked in bewilderment, opening fire at the horde, hitting them in their midsections or chests—nothing head-level.

Daisuke, however, made sure his aim was at their heads as he opened fire.

Not far behind Rojo were Azul and Amarillo, who both wasted no time preparing to fight.

“Uh, boss? Any idea why they aren’t running?” Azul asked as she prepared her arm cannon.

Amarillo wasted no time preparing her knife for more kills...

“Who cares? More meat bags that need poppin’!” She smiled, charging into combat.

“Amarillo, wait!” Daisuke tried, but he had no time to react...

Amarillo quickly drove her knife into one of the zombies several times before slashing another’s throat.

However, they both grabbed her arms and tried to bite into her armor.

“The fuck?!” She tried to break free, but two more quickly held her in place and took two chunks off of her face.

As she screamed in agony, her two companions rapidly opened fire, cutting the horde down to loose limbs and heads.

They both caught their breath as Daisuke made sure the zombies were truly dead before putting a turning-Amarillo out of her misery with a single headshot.

“What was that...? What the fuck was that?!” Azul asked in complete horror.

Rojo stayed silent, struggling to comprehend what she saw.

They didn’t have time to mourn, however, as more rasps told them that more zombies were nearby...

“Okay, let’s grab what we can on our way out and go!” Daisuke instructed.

Rojo scoffed.

“Fuck the paintings, dude! We’re out!” Rojo said as she took Azul by the hand and sped down the hall with her.

“What the—hey!” Daisuke said, running after them.

He only stopped to grab the crown on the pedestal, not wasting the time it would take to bag it.

As he sprinted down the hall, he already heard the roar of their motorcycles as they sped off the way they all came.

“Damn it...” He cursed to himself.

He turned and saw that a few paintings were removed from the walls and loaded in the back of the truck, but he knew he needed a bigger haul than that...

Turning around, he sped back into the museum, rapidly trying to take paintings off the walls. However, the dead were somewhat fast for rotting corpses. He managed to grab two fairly-sized ones before they were almost at him...

“Not enough...” He growled to himself as he rushed to the exit.

He wasn’t far from the door until more zombies shuffled from the hallway closest to the door.

“Shit... Shit!” He shouted, dropping the paintings and running in the only direction he could go—down the hallway parallel to the one the horde was advancing from.

As he sprinted, he saw a flight of stairs going to the second floor. Stopping, he quickly ran up them as the dead followed him, cramming themselves against the railings.

With temporary safety guaranteed, Daisuke searched for anything to block the stairs with. He saw several plant pots containing several withering and dead flora. He quickly grabbed the heaviest ones he could find and pushed them down the stairs. Some broke, but soon the pots still intact built up to form a barricade.

“Okay... let’s find a way out of here...”

As he searched, he found that the upper floor was devastated. Scorch marks, bullet holes, and destroyed railings polluted the top floor of the museum. Dirty, soiled cots were spread on the ground with old backpacks littered in between.

Daisuke paid the sight no mind as he looked over the balcony, seeing that the lower floor was now overrun with the dead... going back down would be impossible without a death wish.

He observed that despite most of the top floor being destroyed, there was a gap that led to the other side of the upper floor, which included a staircase leading back down. The dead weren’t close to that side of the building, and the ones that were left were flocking over to the barricaded stairs. Daisuke contemplated jumping down and making a run for it, but saw that the zombies in the back were too close.

“Goddamnit...” He whispered.

In defeat, he sat against the wall and sighed.

“Come on, man... I need you, here.”

Nothing answered him. Enraged, he sent his fist into the side of the wall.

“Come on! Dark, answer me!”

As soon as Daisuke said his name, he began to feel the presence again... His presence.

“’Answer you’? Just why should I do what you say, anymore? I’m not part of you, anymore, remember?!” A disembodied voice asked him.

As the shock upon hearing his voice again set in, Daisuke sighed.

“Come on, now, Dark— I know you're more mature than that.”

Dark chuckled.

“Yeah, sure thing, Daisuke—I'm the immature one, here.”

Daisuke scoffed.

“Over 20 years, and you’re still a child.”

“Oh, I’m the child?! Just what exactly was your real reason for adopting Scootaloo?”

Daisuke stood and pointed his finger into the air.

“Don’t you dare bring her into this...” He growled.

The voice chuckled.

“Oh, really? Why? Didn’t wanna keep the Niwa tradition going?”

Daisuke didn’t bother to answer the voice as he stood and looked over the ledge again, seeing the pack of zombies.

“Hello?! You wanted me to talk, and now I’m talking!”

Groaning, Daisuke turned his gaze upwards.

“Do you even know what it was like?! Being raised to host you? The training, the discipline... I didn’t have a childhood, and I sure as hell didn’t want to rob my child of that! So yes—we adopted. It happened, and now I’ll go through hell and back to keep my daughter safe!”

Dark sighed.

“Oh, yeah? Look around, do you think Scootaloo’s gonna have that ‘normal childhood’ you’re talking about?”

Hearing the groans of the dead drew a long sigh from Daisuke.

“...I did what I could for her. I have no shame in that. I’m sorry for what that means for you...”

“Oh, sure you are. I don’t wanna hear your pity—let's just get the hell out of here.”

Daisuke nodded, standing up and looking around for supplies.

“Okay... let me see what we’re dealing with, here.”

He looked out over the gap again, glancing up and noticing several rafters that were still intact with sturdy pipes running on top of them. He noted that the sun shone down onto his eyes as part of the roof was destroyed...

He turned his attention back inside and looked through the surrounding backpacks, finding a few old coat hangers, several feet of rope, and scattered cans of food and water bottles.

Thinking quickly, he took apart the hangers, saving the hooks, bending it a bit more, and wrapping and fusing them together, forming a sturdy hook. With the hook tightened, he tightly tied the rope against it.

“Dude, do you really think that’s gonna hold your weight?” Dark asked him.

“Don’t have much of a choice.” He shrugged.

He gave the makeshift grappling hook a few practice tosses, making it close to the pipe each time.

“You’re rusty, old man...”

Daisuke chuckled.

“You think 34’s old?”

Dark chuckled back.

“Well, when you’ve been 17 for hundreds of years, yeah.”

With only a few more tosses, Daisuke finally sent the rope onto the pipe, the hook from the hangers standing strong.

“If this works...” Dark began.

“I know it will—how do you think I got through my mom’s heist training?”

With a confident nod and a wavering breath, Daisuke pulled on the rope, testing the strength of the pipe. After he was sure that it wouldn’t give, he gave himself a running start...

With a jump and a tug, Daisuke swung through the air.

A few zombies noticed the sudden shift in the wind and began to follow the sensation.

However, Daisuke had already jumped off of the rope and landed on the other side.

He took a moment to catch his breath, astonished as he turned and saw the gap he had jumped.

“Ah, I missed this...” He smiled to himself.

However, he had no time to collect himself as from the ground floor, he heard the groans of the undead begin to grow closer...

Sure enough, enough zombies heard his swing to attract the rest toward him.

“Oh, shit...” He said to himself, running down the stairs.

He had just enough time to run down, but not enough to make a break for it. The dead were beginning to climb up the opposite staircase and towards Daisuke.

He stumbled back, running back up even though he knew there was nowhere he could go.

“Okay, buddy... if there were a time for you to take control again, it’d be right now!" He shouted as the dead began climbing up to the top.

Daisuke was backed up against the edge but knew that the fall could injure him, not to mention the stragglers still wandering around...

Seeing no other option, he sighed.

“Okay, fine... be a dick!” He shouted as he charged the horde, allowing them to grab onto him...

Princess fiddled with the pen on her desk as she stared aimlessly. It had been three hours since Rojo and Azul came back without the art or Daisuke. Apparently, Amarillo was caught off-guard by zombies—the same ones that Brick reported seeing...

The thought of them coming back after death made her uneasy. Sure, they called them zombies, but for them to actually be the living dead? It unsettled her.

As she sat in thought, she heard the footsteps of one of her guards.

“Ma’am? There’s, uh... someone here for you...” He said, clearly unnerved.

Intrigued, Princess gestured for them to enter.

Panting for breath, an older man with long, spiky purple hair covered in dried blood entered, holding a golden crown in his hand...

“And who might you be?” Princess asked.

Smiling, Dark set the crown on her table.

“Hi. I’m a friend of Daisuke Niwa. He wanted me to drop this off for you.”

Princess looked at the crown on her table and admired it for a moment.

“And what does he think I’d want with it?” She shrugged.

Dark smirked.

“He thinks it suited you. Now let’s talk about his daughter’s treatment.”

Princess gently set the crown aside and shrugged.

“I asked him to do something, and he delivered. Consider it done.”

Dark nodded and began to exit the room.

“This month.”

Dark paused, slowly turning around.

“Wanna swing that by me again?”

“That museum was infested with zombies—literal ones, at that. And yet, according to you, he made it back alive... so tell him that if he wants continued treatment for his daughter, then he’s gonna have to deliver me a lot more than a stupid crown and some paintings. We got a deal, tough guy?”

Dark observed her for a moment and smiled.

“Ah, to be 17 again...”

Princess chuckled.

“You’re not missing much.”

With that, Dark left the room.

Princess stepped back and took her seat. As time passed, she glanced at the crown on her desk before finally picking it up, and admiring it. After a moment, she put the headpiece right where it belonged. With a cocky smile, she rested her feet on her desk and began to hum to herself, contempt at her place as queen of Townsville...