Thicker Than Blood

Jefferson Avenue erupted with a cacophony of voices. The wide street brimmed with bodies fueled by passion and rage. Chaos ensued, the likes of which the city of Detroit had not seen since the riots of the late sixties. A century later, the once lively city descended into disarray. Amidst an eroding ozone layer and rising sea levels, humanity held its many negligent politicians accountable. In lieu of government and law, factions and tribalism arose.

Now, as the evening sun dwindled in the sky, the combatting chants of two factions threatened to turn violent. Thus far, the only factor preventing an outbreak of violence was the number of rifles adorning the chests and shoulders of passionate people present. The throng had shifted closer to Belle Isle throughout the day, and the bulk of the action now occurred a couple of blocks south of the Elmwood Cemetery.

Marques, one of the leaders of the charge against the Indulge Faction shouted into his megaphone, standing face to face with his adversaries. His disgust for those who believed in the pursuit of bliss no matter the cost kept his blood boiling. His allegiance to the Detroit Unity Faction was unwavering. The ticking clock on humanity’s survival didn’t mean they had to live as savages. Treating one another properly until the end was the right thing to do. He held the megaphone in front of his face, pausing only for a moment to wipe condensation from his brow. The noxious feeling in his chest hadn’t stopped growing since the two groups had met in the street, but he kept his mind focused on the event at hand. He took a deep breath, readying himself for another chant. Before he could begin, screams burst from behind him. Hardly audible over the din of the gathering, they rapidly grew in number and volume. Marques snapped his attention from the mob of Indulgents and scanned through the mass of bodies. He quickly realized that he wouldn't be able to see a damn thing from his position. He pushed his way through the mob to a long-abandoned automobile. Several others had already clambered onto the roof of the SUV, and Marques joined them to get a better view.

A third party? Who else could possibly have any business at this rally? He gaped at the horde making its way down Mt. Elliot Street toward the gathering on Jefferson. The clap of the first shot sent an icy jolt down Marques' spine. His head whipped toward the Unity members at the fringe of the crowd, dreading that this day would end with bloodshed. The muzzle flash of rifles popped brightly against the encroaching darkness, the boom of gunfire echoing off the walls of nearby buildings. Marques sucked in rapid breaths as he watched an increasing number of faction members open fire at the group lurching down the street perpendicular to the crowd. His head spun as more screams rang out, this time near the line where the Indulgents and Unity held their respective ground. He turned shakily toward the new screams and froze. Shadowy figures staggered across an adjacent parking lot to the Jefferson mob. Dozens clashed with Indulgents on the fringe of the overflowing street. Marques’ legs buckled as he watched members of the ghastly swarm lunge at protestors. The crowd began to disperse frantically as the ghouls tackled their first victims to the ground in a wild frenzy. Bodies spilled over one another in pandemonium.

We're right by the cemetery.

Zombies.

Marques nearly laughed at the deranged idea, but he could muster up no other explanation. In a world saturated by man-made chemicals, it wouldn’t be the first time that the dead had risen. An inhuman groan shocked him back to his senses and the SUV shook as the body of an undead rammed awkwardly into the car’s hood. Screams pierced Marques' eardrums and his fellow rooftop-onlookers leapt down onto the street. The undead man climbed ferociously toward him and any lingering doubt swiftly left Marques' mind. His megaphone fell from his hand as he spun around, slipping down the back of the car. Breaking into a frantic sprint, he ran east down Jefferson as fast as his legs would move. People ran around him in all directions, colliding with one another in panic. The zombies now flooded Jefferson Ave, taking down anyone too slow to dodge their frenzied attacks. Gunfire rang out from various directions as brazen members of the crowd put their rifles to use against the undead horde. Marques sidestepped around people running past him, adrenaline fueling his body's flight response. Gotta get away from the cemetery, Marques heard ringing through his head. He mindlessly pushed through a stagnant cluster of people, skidding to a halt as he took in the cause of their pause. Zombies spilled out of the street ahead, streaking through the throng of fleeing protestors.

"We're dead if we just stand here!" A voice broke out. Marques turned to the teenage Unity girl who spoke. She was shaken, but determination washed over her face. She inhaled deeply and broke into a sprint, weaving through the scattered group. Her courage ignited the others and they began to charge behind her. The smell of must and rot overpowered the usual haze of the city as Marques slid through the mob of ghouls. The others coughed and gagged as they ran, stumbling over potholes and ducking the undead as they clawed at their targets. A blur flashed in the corner of Marques' eye and he nearly collapsed under the weight of an undead woman as she hooked her arms around his torso. Her momentum forced him into a sideways stagger and his heart thundered in his chest as her saliva splattered onto the side of his neck. He thrashed and spun away from the decrepit creature with a primal shout just in time as she swung her head forward, gnashing her yellowed teeth where he stood a split second earlier. A man running by grabbed Marques' wrist, yanking him forward.

"Thanks," Marques panted as he ran. The man nodded in acknowledgement without taking his eyes off of the path ahead.

"Don't count on any more help," he grunted, swinging the back of his fist at an undead lurching alongside them. Marques grit his teeth and pumped his legs. The open road beyond the horde was in sight as Marques vaulted over the body of a crawling zombie. He landed awkwardly, his foot catching the edge of one of the many potholes cursing the dilapidated roads. His hands hit the pavement as he fell forward and quickly scrambled to his feet. The blunder put a few seconds between him and his recent savior, and as he regained his momentum, he saw what the gruff man couldn't. A raggedy figure ripped diagonally across the road with outstretched arms, quickly closing in on the man.

"LOOK OUT!" Marques couldn't get the words out in time. The rotting figure barreled into the man from behind, knocking him off his feet. Ghastly groans mashed with gasps and grunts as the undead and the living struggled on the ground. Marques moved into the scuffle before he had time to think, leaning forward to wrap his arms around the zombie. With all his might, he wrenched the horrific creature off of the man and threw it to the ground. He whipped back around to the man to offer a helping hand, only to find him already standing back up.

"GO!" The man rasped, and the two took off.

The sun began to dip behind the dilapidated buildings of downtown Detroit and the streetlights that still worked flickered on as Marques and his new companion put distance between themselves and the edge of the horde. They approached bright white lights near the MacArthur Bridge, and the gruff man slowed his pace. A stream of survivors hurried past them toward the entrance to Belle Isle.

"The name's Marv," he grunted. Marques slowed to catch his breath. "Thanks for that, back there."

"I guess I owed you one. I'm Marques."

"Well, we're even now, Marques." Marv hunched over, planting his hands on his knees with a sigh. It was the first time Marques had a chance to truly examine the man. An unbuttoned denim jacket covered his wide frame, the sleeveless garment revealing a set of broad shoulders. His straight brown hair cascaded over a blood-red bandana. The mass of thick hair almost blocked Marques from seeing the pendant that slipped out of Marv's tank top collar between ragged breaths. He straightened his back and ran a meaty hand through his hair, pushing the bulk of it behind his head. The shining lights illuminated his rough, bearded face and handlebar mustache. The metallic locket sitting against his sweat-soaked undershirt glinted with the beam of the LED lights. Marv started toward the entrance to the bridge, with Marques in tow. They had nearly reached the blockade at the bridge when Marv stumbled. Throwing himself under Marv's shoulder and wrapping an arm around his waist, Marques helped the man upright. Marv grunted but didn't resist, and they fell into line with the others heading to the bridge. Makeshift barricades covered most of the ground at the mouth of the bridge. A dozen protestors equipped with rifles staggered around a set of hastily-erected floodlights. An Indulgent at the front of the blockade called out to the newcomers.

"Make your way onto the Isle, we'll use the bridge as a chokepoint to hold off the attack. If you are able-bodied and armed, help us secure this spot."

"This is unreal," Marques muttered as he and Marv made their way onto the bridge.

Marv grumbled under his breath. "Aren't you a bit young to have been out there today?" Marques thought for a moment before responding.

"Never too young to have a voice." He hesitated before asking, "Uh...not that it really matters anymore, but...which side were you on?"

Marv shot him a quick side-eyed glance and sighed. "Probably not the same one as you, kid." They continued together in what felt like an eternal silence. Finally, they reached the end of the bridge and Marv freed himself from Marques' grasp, slumping to the ground against a light pole. Marques hadn't thought much of it before, but his hand had become wet against Marv's side, presumably from the man's sweat. He started to wipe his hand off on his pants but stopped as the flickering light revealed his hand dripping with a thick red liquid.

"I'm afraid your heroics may have been in vain, my friend." Marv pointed to Marques' hand. He lifted his tank top to reveal a nasty gash on his side. "You might want to wash that off. I was afraid this was the case, but I didn't think it was this bad. I might...turn." He gripped the heart-shaped locket around his neck and snapped it off swiftly. He held the item out to Marques, who accepted it gingerly. Marv nodded, and Marques opened the locket to reveal two small photos of smiling women. "Hey, kid. If you ever run into my wife or my daughter...will you give them that for me?" He smiled sadly. As Marques struggled for words, Marv stood up slowly and produced a .38 revolver from his waist. He turned toward the shore, the gun dangling in his hand.

"Wait!" Marques cried.

"I'd rather go out my way than turn into one of those monsters. You're a good kid, Marques. Stay alive, I'm sure you have people who love you."

Marques watched Marv wade out into the murky water until he could no longer see him. He winced as the .38 fired a single round, the sound carrying across the river. He looked down at the locket in his bloody hand, examining the smiling faces beaming back at him. He squeezed his eyes shut and the words quietly dropped out of his mouth. "Maybe we weren't so different after all."