Rotten World

Chapter 1

Max Pierce

One year ago, the world fell. There was no more government, no laws, no one in charge. The world had descended into chaos. Somehow, the dead began to rise, hunting for anything still alive, driven only by an insatiable hunger for flesh. Rotters, Max called them, on account of the horrific smells that followed the monsters. No one knew how it started, or if someone did, they never had the chance to make their discovery public. It only took a few weeks for everything to collapse. The first few days were spent quarantined at home, listening to the news religiously, until all of a sudden, the signal was lost and never returned. Most of Max’s neighbors had packed up and drove away a few days after that. Not Max.

Maxwell Pierce had been too much of a coward to leave his home during the beginning. He stocked up on groceries one of the very first days and didn’t leave his house again for weeks. For a while everything was quiet in his neighborhood. The only person Max knew had stayed was an elderly woman living next door. She had no car or family to come rescue her. Deep down, Max knew he should have gone over there to keep her safe, but exactly two weeks into the outbreak he heard her screaming, begging for mercy. It was too late. He had waited too long.

A few hours after the screams ended Max saw the lady, bloody and tattered, stumble out onto the street, now completely taken over by the virus. Her guts dangled loosely from her stomach, patches of skin torn off, blood-soaked clothes, and mindless shambling. She joined a pack of rotters and disappeared down the road not long after.

After hearing his neighbor get torn to shreds, Max immediately began barricading every entrance into his home. Unfortunately, it wasn’t enough to keep them out of his home. They must have smelled him holed up in there because later that same day at least 50 rotters found their way on to his street and specifically targeted Max’s home.

There were no firearms or weapons of any kind in the building. The best Max could do was grab a hammer from his garage and hope they didn’t get in. They got in.

Max knew he couldn’t defend the place, so he hopped in his truck and left, something he should have done weeks ago. He stayed on the road, living in his pickup for as long as he could. Eventually, there was no one manning the gas stations, meaning Max had no way to keep his truck fueled. He didn’t know how to siphon gas or figure out the pumps on his own.

So about three months in, when people realized this wasn’t going to be over anytime soon and stopped going to work, Max’s truck ran dry. Since then, he’d been stuck on foot, barely coming across any survivors, at least not many he trusted enough to consider staying with, except that one group.

It was now a year since it began, still no sign things were ever going to get better, and Max was still alone. He had recovered a handgun and a shotgun from an abandoned police car but was running dangerously low on ammunition. Currently, Max was wandering through a deserted town somewhere in Virginia, he lived in Massachusetts. He didn’t want to say he was brave now, but he also wouldn’t say he was still a coward. Max had killed at least a hundred rotters since the outbreak, but was too scared to defend himself from any humans.

One time, about six months in, Max was sleeping on the roof of an abandoned convenience store when awoke to a group of thieves rummaging through his supplies, carelessly tossing things around. It was a miracle they didn’t end him while he was asleep.

When they noticed he was awake, one of the men pointed a 9mm handgun at his forehead. In desperation, Max offered them everything he was carrying as long as they let him climb down and continue surviving in this new world. Luckily, not long after that he came across the cop car and decided that if something like that happened to him again he wouldn’t hesitate to use the weapons. The only downside about having to use a gun is the noise, not only drawing more rotters but also looters. The sound of a gun to people out here was like a dinner bell, inviting anyone and anything to come take all of your stuff.

Max didn’t only have guns though, he still carried the hammer he took from his home the day he fled, a simple but sturdy pocket knife he found in a library, and a machete slung over his shoulder. He couldn’t remember how he got the machete.

Gunfire erupted from a few streets to the left of where Max was walking. “Shit,” he muttered to himself, knowing it would be only minutes before rotters showed up. It took less than that. Just a few seconds passed when a corner store window shattered and thirty rotters came tumbling out. Max debated using the rest of his ammo but knew it would only draw more out. He backed away from the oncoming swarm, drawn to the smell of fresh meat over the sound of bullets flying.

A rotter hiding under the wheels of a crashed bus grabbed on to Max’s leg, tripping him, falling flat on his back. It clawed desperately at his feet. Max scooted back but it didn’t relent, holding on so tight that it ripped itself in half as Max crawled away further and further. Back on his feet, Max stomped the head of the monster into a pile of red goo. The other rotters were closing in, and Max turned around to retreat but was cut off by another group. He was cornered.

Pinned in a tight street, with rotters banging on doors and windows of every building Max could see, there was nowhere to go.

“Over here! Quick!” It was a females voice. He turned to see a blonde woman ushering him into an alleyway. “Let’s go!” she shouted. Max took off running towards the lady, hoping this wasn’t some kind of trap they used on unsuspecting survivors.

They dodged and weaved around the creatures for what felt like hours until the two of them reached what appeared to be the woman’s safehouse. It was a McDonald’s, altered to offer more protection from any outsiders. The windows completely covered and boarded up, wooden stakes wrapped in chains and barbed wire set up around the building for rotters, a makeshift sniper nest erected on the roof, though Max doubted they actually owned a sniper rifle.

“It’s Mary!” she shouted to someone inside. The doors swung open and Max followed her inside.

“Who’s he?” asked the man who opened the door for them, not trying to hide the annoyed look on his face.

“I’m Max,” he responded, before anyone else could say anything.

“That tells me your name, not who you are,” the man scoffed.

“Leave him alone, Dante,” Mary said, clearly annoyed by his comments.

“Whatever. He better not be with The Senate,” Dante mumbled.

Max had never heard of a group called The Senate, but he assumed they were bad news if Dante was concerned he was a part of it. Mary led him to a booth seat where they sat down across from each other. Was this going to be some kind of interview?

“Who are you with?” she asked him.

Yep, definitely an interview. “No one? Did you see anyone else out there with me?” he retorted.

“No, I did not, but you may be a scout for a group out there called The Senate.”

“I heard that Dante guy mention that name. I’ve never even heard of them before just now. I’m guessing your people and them have problems with each other?” Max really didn’t want to get roped into some war between two groups. He wouldn’t be much help either.

“You could say that. If you haven’t heard of them you must not be from around here. Where are you from?”

“Well I wander around a lot, never stay in one place for too long. Especially after I got robbed one time.”

“I meant before,” she sighed.

“Oh, well I’m from a town called North Attleboro, Massachusetts. I stayed there for the first few weeks when it started, but my house…”

“I’m gonna cut you off there. I just asked where you were from, not how you got here,” Mary interrupted.

“Oh, alright. Sorry.”

She took in a big breath of air and said, “No, I’m sorry. There’s just been a lot of shit going on lately and my people aren’t very trusting anymore.”

“Can I ask what happened exactly?” Max was curious what these Senate people had done to Mary and her friends.

“If we decide you can be trusted, you’ll learn soon enough.”

“And what if you decide I’m not?” Max asked, suddenly worried for his own safety.

“Then we’ll drop you off twenty miles out and if we see you again, you’ll wish you never came back.”

“What other questions do you have? I want to prove I can be trusted.”

“Are you, or have you ever been a part of another group?”

“I was a part of a small camp for about a month and half but we were overrun and everyone got split up. This was back in West Virginia, not that long ago actually. I just hope most of them are still out there, finding a safe place to hole up.”

“I’m sorry that happened to you. I know what it’s like to lose a group of people, even if you don’t know what happened to most of them.” He could sense actual empathy in the tone of her voice as she spoke. Something about her fascinated him. It wasn’t just her looks, but the way she carried herself.

“Do you have somewhere you’ve been staying? Like a place where you keep any supplies while you go out scavenging?”

“No. Not really. I have this duffel bag.” He raised it up and then dropped it back to the ground, “It carries basically everything I own. I have two firearms, canned food, bottles of water, and a sleeping bag inside. I find somewhere high up where most rotters can’t reach and go to bed before getting on the road again.”

“You call them rotters too?”

“I mean that’s kinda what they are, is it not?”

“Especially with that smell,” both said at the same time. They laughed together for a few seconds. Her smile was beautiful. She had perfect white teeth and her blue-grey eyes lit up as she giggled. Her hair was blonde and curly, cut at shoulder length. There was a small birthmark on each side of her face, right under both eyes. She had the subtlest butt chin Max had ever seen and it just made her even more attractive.

“Last two questions,” she said, laughter subsiding. “How many people have you killed?”

“None,” Max responded without hesitation. “I only kill the rotters.”

“Why?” she asked, marking the final question.

“It doesn’t feel moral, even with everything going on nowadays. Maybe I’m just a coward, or maybe I’m too weak for this world, I don’t know. I just don’t think I could live with myself after,” Max replied, providing much more information than he intended. He was secretly hoping she didn’t think he wouldn’t work well with her group. Honestly, Max wanted to stay with these people. He didn’t think he could live out there as a nomad, alone for much longer.

“Okay, I’m gonna talk to the others but I have a good feeling about you. I think you’ll fit well with this group, even if you can’t necessarily fight against The Senate with us.”

Max sat in that same spot for about twenty minutes, running through a million different possibilities about these people, but especially whatever The Senate was. Everyone in the restaurant had gone into the manager’s office to discuss what to do with Max next. Mary seemed to like him and be satisfied with his answers but doubt creeped into his mind thinking about how cautious these people must be with their war with The Senate.

A few minutes later, Mary, Dante, and everyone else came out of the room. In total there were twelve of them, not including himself. Almost exactly split half and half between man and woman. Mary was the only one who came up to him after they emerged from their conference.

“You can stay, but you’re gonna have to win a few of them over. Dante doesn’t trust you, but he trusts me. He’s on your side but you’ll still have to prove your worth.”

“Thank you, Mary.”

“No problem, just don’t cause any.”

“You have my word,” Max promised. “What can I do for now?”

“For now, just relax. You’re safe here. Try to get to know some of my people a little bit. That’ll help you build some rapport.”

Max got up, and began speaking to his new companions.