For the last four weeks, Viper Crouch and Sniper Akin of Vipers Nest have been slowly and methodically working their way from their secured bunker, along the banks of the Amazon, to the last known coordinates of their esteemed leader, Cobra Commander.
At the onset of their journey, they covered quite a distance after requisitioning a small boat from the nearby native village. They felt relatively secure in their position upon the mighty Amazon. However, that feeling of security quickly turned to dread as they traveled upriver. They witnessed firsthand what they had only speculated upon based on the scattered and rare reports they were able to pick from the airwaves of the past two years. That information, more rumors than facts, coupled with their observations on their weekly perimeter sweeps and rare recon missions, had given them a picture of what the world was going through. Even their wildest imaginings didn't prepare them for what they saw. The sheer destruction and total devastation reaped upon the world by their newest enemy was unfathomable. Nowhere was immune from the undead. Each village they passed showed evidence that man was no longer on top of the food chain; whole swathes of land were wiped clean of life by forest fires burning out of control, body parts littered the banks, the remnants of THEIR unholy feasts. On several occasions, Crouch and Akin found themselves unable to make progress on the river due to the bodies and body parts that choked it. They began to take solace in the fact that THEY had moved on, or so they thought.
While passing a small town, their attention was drawn to the growing crowd of THEM that was gathering on the banks. As the two continued upriver, the pack followed, their moans filling the air around the clock, announcing their hunger. THEY were relentless. The two would lose sight of them, but never the sounds. They spent the nights rotating watch aboard the boat, no longer taking the risk of making camp upon the shoreline.
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Date: July 1. Time: Unknown. Location: South America, somewhere along the Amazon River.
One night, two weeks into their excursion, Akin was on watch while Crouch slept uneasily in the bottom of the skiff. Akin was searching the darkness, unable to tell where the river ended, and the land began as the moon was hidden behind the ever-increasing cover of smog and pollution. Once, the Amazon basin boasted some of the most pristine wilderness in the world, but now nowhere was safe from the fall out of a world turned upside down by the walking dead. The sky darkened and choked out the moon and stars, and the night became utter darkness. Even their helmets' NODs could not penetrate the night as there was no ambient light for them to intensify. There sat Akin waiting for his time to wake Crouch and be relieved even for only two hours when he heard something that stilled his breathing. A loud splash shook him out of his daze. He tried to locate its point of origin yet could not. They had not seen any signs of life along the Amazon. Gone were the crocodiles, giant river otters, and others. There… Another splash. Now there… And there…
"Wake the fuck up." Akin shakes Crouch waking him with a start.
"What the fuck, man, 5 more minutes." Grumbled Crouch.
"No, man, wake the fuck up. Now! Somethings out there."
Nothing more needs to be said. Crouch snapped upright and listened intently, searching for any slight sound.
"I don't hear sh..."
"There it is again." Akin cuts off Crouch before he can finish his griping. Another splash came from the bank to their right.
"What the fuck was that?" This time from Crouch.
"What?"
"I swear I just heard something under the water…" Both men, unable to see further than the ends of the small boat, looked anxiously into the Stygian blackness. "There…" Both men turn weapons at the ready, pointing at nothing. "God damn it! I'd kill for that damn B.A.T."
"Forget the B.A.T. I say we hit the lights on three. One. Two. Three." In unison, both men turn on their rifle-mounted lights. Red beams pierce the night like bloody beacons. Both men pan left and right, unable to see the shore. Then they look into the river itself.
"FUCK!!!" The quick staccato of machine gun fire fills the night as Crouch shoots into the river while stumbling back into the boat. As he lands with a thump. Akin is firing on instinct alone, not knowing what he's shooting at. "Fuck, man! Fuck!!! They're under the boat." Screams Crouch as he tries to regain his footing in the shaky craft. Akin continues to discharge rounds into the murky water. Then they hear it. The moaning. Only this isn't in the distance. The sounds echo from all around sending chills up their spines. "We need to get the fuck out of here now Akin."
"I'll pull the anchor. Keep watch." Akin shoulders his rifle and turns. He grabs the anchor line and begins pulling it back into the boat. "Damn thing is heavier than I remember."
"What?" Asks Crouch. Before Akin can respond a hand shoots out of the water latching onto his wrist. The grip is like a bear trap, steel-hewed fingers wrap tightly around him as a body begins to pull itself out of the water. As it's head breaches the surface it lets out a gurgling moan. Its eyes, what's left of them, lock onto Akin's. The beast is set to feed as it struggles to reach its prey. Now it's Akin's turn to fall to the bottom of the boat. As he tries to pull away from the carrier of his demise he slips on the wet planking. As he falls the rending of bone and flesh is clearly heard, Akin lands on the bottom with the arm of the undead still holding on, yet severed from the rest of its body. A second arm reaches the side of the boat, and the head of the creature comes up still trying to reach its intended victim. A single shot rings out. Black matter flies through the air hitting the water with a sickening sploosh. Smoke spirals up from Crouch's rifle. "You're not the only crack shot." Looking down at Akin, Crouch leers an ever-widening smile crossing his face. The moaning from the creatures continues to grow louder and the splashing more frequent. As he watches Akin pulls a gleaming knife from its leg sheath. The razor-sharp blade flashes under the red light of Crouch's rifle. "Shit man I was only kidding…" Again before he can finish Akin cuts him off, the blade racing through the air cutting the line to the anchor and setting the small boat a drift. Caught in the strong current of the mighty Amazon it begins going downstream, a direction opposite its final destination.
"Don't just stand there. Get the engine started before we go too far."
Crouch begins pulling on the cord to the small engine, after several tries it roars to life and the two are once again battling the current. Passing the area they had just escaped, red lights blazing into the water below Crouch and Akin see dozens of undead walking along the bottom of the river along a sandbar. As they pass over each one raises its arms, a single purpose in mind, obtain sustenance to quell their never-ending hunger.
The two continue their night in silence, each unnerved by their nocturnal encounter with THEM. The first such encounter for each. Yet destined to not be the last. Neither speaks of that night again.
After weeks on the river, they reach a point where their small boat can be of no use. They leave the small craft behind, hidden on the chance they might need it on the return. "How much further Crouch?"
"According to the last coordinates, the GPS, and our good ol' map, only another 1000 km."
"Shit."
"That about sums it up." The two men begin the overland trek of their journey. Hoping without hope that in the end, it will have been a trip worth the risks.