The Chairman's Chest

In the midst of a gently sloping field, overgrown with vines and weeds almost a meter high, stood an old mansion, crumbling under the weight of age and abandonment.

A universal silence prevailed with an authority that seemed to suggest that it had been decades since anyone had disturbed it.

This reverie was shattered by the droning of an engine, rapidly approaching the abandoned property.

The source of the disturbance rounded the corner, revealing an old and crudely modified pickup truck. The windows had been covered with sheets of corrugated metal and the doors were reinforced with plates of cast iron. The entire contraption was rusted, rattling and stank of the death of metal.

Unceremoniously, the truck crashed through the rusted, half-open gates that protected the abandoned property. Without pause, it speed along the asphalt track towards the mansion, leaving a cloud of dust and flying gravel in its wake. The tires complained noisily as the Frankensteinian vehicle screeched to a halt.

With a loud bang, the doors flew open and the five occupants of the vehicle tumbled out, armed with semi automatic rifles and on high alert. They were a mixed group, three men and two women, but they handled their weapons with a familiarity and moved with a synergy that indicated that they had fought many bitter battles together.

One of them, a scarred ruffian of about forty years of age appeared to be their leader. He swiftly barked some orders in his rough voice and the group split up. Three of them rushed into the abandoned mansion while he remained outside with one of the women, anxiously watching the road from which they had come, rifles at the ready.

For a few moments, the silence that had prevailed before the arrival of the strange quintet seemed to have returned. Nothing could be heard but the muffled sound of cracking wood and breaking glass, doubtlessly caused by the rummaging of the trio still within the mansion. The Leader and his companion kept their eyes trained on the road, their fingers brushing lightly over the triggers of their weapons.

Presently the calm gave way to the distant but rapidly approaching sound of shouting voices. It swelled and increased in volume, rattling the nerves of the watchers to such an extent that it was all they could do to keep their weapons steady. Still the noise approached, its volume and pitch indicating that it was emanating simultaneously from hundreds of throats. It rounded the corner and the cause of the watchers' apprehension became clear.

A vast throng, a seething mass of human bodies, running towards the mansion, screaming as they came. Their movements were erratic and jerky, as though manipulated by the hand of some unseen puppeteer. For all their awkwardness however, they were moving at a pace that few athletes could attain and doing so at a disturbingly tireless pace.

As it stood, they were less than four hundred meters away.

"Crap." Muttered the leader.

He turned his head and shouted into the mansion.

"Hurry it up in there! The infected are here!"

As if they had been awaiting his summons, the trio burst through the doors, awkwardly holding something between them. It was a large wooden chest, a weighty antique, bound with bands of rusted iron.

"To the truck!" The leader yelled, barely pausing to look at their burden.

Awkwardly hauling the chest between them, they loaded it onto the truck and piled themselves inside of the vehicle.

By this time the horde had approached the gate that the truck had crashed into when it entered. As one they surged through it, howling, snarling, inarticulate.

"There's too many of them." Growled the leader.

"If we can't thin that crowd, we'll never get through."

Barely had he finished speaking when one of the truck's doors flew open and just as quickly was shut again.

One of the women had exited the truck and stood there facing the horde, her rifle at her shoulder.

"Cathy get back in here!" Screamed the leader."

"No time!" She shouted.

"The salvation of our colony is inside of that chest. I'll try to lead them off. For the good of the whole!"

"For the good of the whole!" Repeated the others mournfully.

Bravely she took off, running away from the gate, firing her weapon as she ran. As one creature the horde turned its attention towards her and began their pursuit.

The Leader started the truck and took off. A number of the horde was in his way but significantly less than had been there before. He avoided those he could and winced as he hit those he could not.

The others looked back to see a long line of the infected running to the back of the mansion. There was no sign of Cathy. They knew what her chances were.

The infected were stronger and faster than those who were not.

They drove back the way they had come, passing numerous abandoned vehicles, mottled brown with rust and decay. They lined both sides of the road for miles, a silent, immobile pileup, several of them with a grinning skeleton at the wheel. The Leader looked at them as he passed.

"Whatever is in that chest had better be worth it."

"Are you questioning the Chairman?" Came the suspicious voice of one of the men in the back seat.

"No, no." Said the Leader somewhat nervously.

"I just want to know that Cathy's sacrifice meant something."

"She gave herself for the good of the whole." The man in the backseat intoned reverently.

"For the good of the whole." Chorused the other two.

"The whole..." Said the leader, with a slight delay.

He turned his attention back to the road.

"We've got trouble." He said slowly.

The others peered through the windshield and saw what he meant.

A vast horde of the infected, about a thousand or so in number, were milling about aimlessly in the street a kilometer away from them.

There was no driving around and driving through them was impossible.

The leader slowly pulled the van to the side of the road and shut off the engine.

"We'll have to go around them on foot."

"On foot, with that load?" Said the woman, pointing to the chest in the tray.

"It's almost a hundred pounds. And going around will add another three miles to our trip."

"We leave the chest." Suggested the Leader.

"We'll come back for it when we can outfit another vehicle."

"We do NOT leave the chest." The other man said, his voice quiet but pregnant with menace.

"Then what do you suggest, Matthewson?" Shouted the leader.

"That dumb box is going to get us all killed out here! We don't even know what's in it!"

He froze as Matthewson cocked his rifle significantly.

"We will do as the Chairman has instructed. You may be the leader of this mission, but question the Chairman's instructions again and you will be replaced. For the good of the whole."

"For the good of the whole." Chorused the other two.

The leader glared at him then sighed and opened the door.

"Fine. We'll take the chest. Let's get a move on."

They exited the van and removed the chest from the tray. They left the road and headed into the bushes, taking turns to hold it between them, two at a time.

It was hard going. The weight of the chest and the humidity of summer sapped them of their strength and the thickness of the bush and the persistence of its mosquitoes were an added annoyance.

They had not gone far before they heard a howl, followed by a series of low growls.

The four travelers looked at each other.

"Dogs." Said the woman.

"A pack of them. They must have entered the bushes in order to avoid the infected. I think they caught our scent."

"Run." The leader barked.

They took off as fast as their burden would allow, awkwardly lugging the chest over the rough terrain. The howls and snarls grew louder as their pursuers closed in.

Dogs, once man's closest companions, had gone feral in the years that followed the outbreak and collapse. Now they ranged in packs, like their lupine ancestors had before them, hunting anything they happened upon.

Infected humans they avoided out of an instinctive sense of danger. Uninfected humans were fair game.

The leader looked back to see a pack of about forty dogs burst through the clearing. They varied widely in size and breed, but the hunger and ferocity in their eyes was uniform.

Taking the chest from the other two, Matthewson and the Leader surged ahead.

There came a scream from behind them.

The dogs had grabbed hold of the woman's leg and were trying their best to bring her down. She struggled frantically, but could not break free.

"Susan!" Screamed the other man, rushing back towards the woman and her canine captors. Sixteen of them broke off from the main group and began to circle him, growling hoarsely. Susan's screams rent the air as the rest of the pack continued to attack her.

The Leader made as if to drop the chest and run to her aid, but was stopped by the firm hand of Matthewson.

"They are done for. We must continue. For the good of the whole."

"For the good of the whole." The Leader growled.

They continued into the bushes, ignoring the sounds of Susan's screaming as best they could.

They continued for over five hours, barely stopping to rest, observing the position of the sun in order to plot their course to the colony. At last they breached a last clearing. There it stood. A former elementary school, its strong walls enclosing the entirety of their society, a total of two hundred souls.

The two men walked to the gate, behind which patrolled two armed guards. Recognizing Matthewson and the Leader, they pulled the gate open and let them in.

They were greeted by a large number of lean and wan faces, looking hungrily at the chest. A few looked at them, eagerly searching for the other three members of their party.

"Where are the others?" They asked.

"They have fallen." Replied Matthewson stoically.

"For the good of the whole."

"For the good of the whole." Repeated the crowd.

A small child, dressed neatly in an old uniform approached the two men.

"You are summoned by the Chairman."

The men made their way to his office. It was clean and contrasted sharply with the squalor outside.

The Chairman sat in his great chair, awaiting them. He was a man of about seventy, and possessed of a white beard that gave him a dignified air.

"Matthewson, Frank, welcome. Congratulations on your success, you have just saved this colony."

Matthewson smiled. Frank did not.

"What's in the chest?" He asked.

"Frank.." muttered Matthewson fiercely.

"No, it's alright." Said the Chairman.

"I'll show you."

Taking a large key from his pocket, he walked to the chest and unlocked it. He flung it open, revealing a collection of dresses, jewelry and a small heart shaped locket.

Frank and Matthewson stared at the contents of the box in silent horror.

"Three people died for this?"

The Chairman tuned his back to them.

"They belonged to my wife.

In this world, there is nothing left but one's reason to keep going. I have become disillusioned. I saw no reason to continue to lead you people, to protect you from the death and chaos that has overtaken the rest of the world.

I no longer wished to protect you.

The contents of that chest give me a reason to keep going, to keep shepherding you miserable lot.

This is why they are essential to the survival of our colony."

Trembling with rage, Frank had begun to lift his rifle to his shoulder.

Matthewson made no attempt to stop him.

"For the good of the whole." He muttered.