Blood Boiling Script

1.

“Blood Boiling” There were no exotic bird chirps or squawks that one would come to expect from a world class island resort destination. The sun was up but had a tinge of red and smoke filled the sky, occasionally covering the morning sunlight. The streets abroad were quiet as cars were non-operative, and the street markets that lined the island’s main street held no carrying, bartering voices as it was now silenced as well. The church bells that were so prominent only the week before had also become eerily quiet by the week’s events. Most likely the churches’ staff of Fathers and Nuns were now turned into creatures of the night or even worse; had succumbed to the walking dead. The island smelled of burning gasoline and oil mixed in with the smell of death. The smell was indescribable and made breathing a chore as every breath would make one nauseous. The palm tree’s fronds would occasionally be rustled in the distance, by a breeze. A breeze that the island was no longer kind enough to supply. It was soft, gentle, and had been such a constant thing when Johnny and Greg arrived only a week earlier. When a rogue breeze did come in offshore, it would bring with it the smell of the sea and it’s salty smell. For a mere second it was strong enough to overpower the smell of death that haunted the survivors at every moment of their new lives. The breeze would drift through the island’s valley and up and over the hills that surrounded the small town center. The survivors grew wanton on this very occasional breeze and found it something to look forward to. Now, the only sound in this alleyway was that of Johnny and Greg’s heavy breathing as they both hugged a wall with their backs and their weapons at the ready in front of them. The alley-way was set between two vacant ten-story buildings and was probably used as a delivery and maintenance throughway, only a week earlier. The floor was made of old cobblestone and was uneven with puddles of blood collecting in these spots. Wind did not penetrate between the two buildings and the alley-way, and as a result, Johnny and Greg could smell the stagnant, yet, fresh smell of death and coagulating blood. So strong in fact, that the smell penetrated both of their makeshift face masks made from

2. double layered cotton T-shirts they had taken from a deserted department store just the night before. The very night before tonight that had proved one of their most difficult since being on the island. The group had lost many survivors to Boilers and Vamps. The men were both determined to not let that happen again. So much in fact, that they had volunteered to leave the safety of their temporary hold and go on the mission of ammo recovery for the safety of the others. Johnny carefully inched his head around the corner of the wall trying to get a view of what was making the distinct noise of chewing and slurping. If Johnny didn’t know any better it sounded like lions after the kill he had watched on the Discovery Channel. Johnny spotted a “Boiler,” and their focus on sound was shifted from the Boiler to the helpless warbles and gurgles of a victim that was lying on the alleyway floor, under the Boiler that was eating his bowels. Clearly, this man had been the next meal of the Boiler. His leg had been crushed by a trash bin that looked to have once been suspended above the ground using the fire escapes around the buildings. Perhaps the man set off one of the traps that the Boilers were known to set. The man was wearing what seemed to be body armor which had obviously not stopped his body from being chewed on and his inevitable death. His boots were not unlike the standard issue Police Officer boots and there was a shotgun and shells to the man’s right side. There was also a very large pistol on the man’s hip and Johnny instantly recognized the pistol as a .50 caliber, Desert Eagle. To Johnny, it seemed as if the man did not have time to ready his gun to fend off the attack. “Boiler,” was the name that Johnny had come up with out of the blue when trying to describe what most likely happened to the blood of victims that were bitten by the zombies. He described it as “Blood Boiling” and envisioned the blood of the victims to boil and dry up, once whatever it was that turned people into zombies, did what it was supposed to. The victim was then in turn rendered bloodless yet living. The man had not turned yet but was choking on his own blood and seemed as if he could spring up at any moment with death in his eyes and a hunger for death in his wretched stomach. The “Boiler” was trying to chew through what appeared to be the large intestine of the man lying on the floor. Bringing his head back in around the corner; “Bet you that’s the shop’s owner,” Johnny whispered to Greg over his left shoulder. “What makes you think that,” asked Greg as he himself stepped up and inched passed Johnny to get his own view. Once he saw what Johnny saw, he too brought his head back around the corner and returned to his position behind Johnny. “Oh, yeah, I get it; all the weapons,” Greg said in a disheartening way.

3.

Greg was once again hugging the wall with his back and was directly behind Johnny. Johnny had emerged as the group’s leader in the past week. Greg knew that Johnny was the most suitable person to lead the group as he and Johnny had been friends since the second grade. The other survivors hadn’t seemed to challenge or mind his assertion as the said leader either. They actually seemed to welcome it to an extent as progressive thinking proved difficult to almost all the survivors these past few days. Johnny looked back over his right shoulder and said, “On the count of three we spring, okay,” not really asking. Greg nodded his head and made sure the gun’s safety was off. Greg had gone shooting at the range with Johnny back in the states but both Johnny and himself knew that he was always considered as a kind of bumbling awkward man around guns and anything else that had to do with methods geared towards violence. He was never any good when going to the range and could very rarely place a bullet onto the target from only 25 yards out. Johnny whispered the count and once he was at “Three” he shouted, “DIE YOU FUCKS!” Johnny and Greg ran out from around the corner of the wall. Greg opted for the low and away crouching position off of Johnny’s left leg. Johnny stood straight and tall with what seemed to be a fearless stance and an arrogance of sorts. It looked as if he had been in training all of his life for an epidemic just like the one they were now living in. Johnny immediately shot at the Boiler chewing on the man in the middle of the alley. Johnny was about 25 feet away from the Boiler but didn’t even pause to aim. A muzzle flash, followed by a 3” deer slug, flew from the barrel and ripped into the Boiler’s chest, sending it flying back at least four feet. “OVER THERE,” Shouted Johnny. “There’s one on your left!” Greg swung his weapon from right to left just in time to sight in a Boiler crawling from behind a blue and white trash bin, and pull the trigger on his 12 Gauge Shotgun, firing high and hoping for the best. The slug hit the boiler square in the forehead sending bloody brain bits all over the alley walls. The blood spray was surprisingly large considering that these boilers were dead and devoid of all blood. Johnny briskly walked up to the victim on the floor and without hesitating for a second, re-pumped his shotgun and fired point blank into his head. The stone floor of the alley gave way to his slug, sending stone mixed with blood and brains fanning out like a water fountain from behind the

4. man’s head. Once done with the man, Johnny walked calmly over to the Boiler he had shot through the chest, who was now twitching on it’s back, trying to get up, and once again reloaded his weapon with a single pump. Johnny took a moment to reflect upon his work. He delighted in the fact that the Boiler had a giant gaping hole in the middle of it’s chest and was struggling to screech at himself. Out of curiosity, Johnny took the tip of his weapon and pulled the Boiler’s pants down to his knees and placed a slug between it’s legs. “Now it can’t breed...” Johnny mumbled to himself, not realizing that Greg was off on his own rant about his killing of a Boiler. Johnny reloaded yet again, and he with a quick aim and simple pull of the trigger, placed a single shot between the Boiler’s eyes and into it’s head to ensure that it was now dead. “Wow! Holy Shit! I hit em’! I can’t believe it! Oh my God, who knew these guys heads had so much, um, pop,” said Greg, still shaking with adrenaline and fear. It was his first official kill of a Boiler. Snapping out of his funk and looking at Greg with a grin from ear-to-ear, “...definitely worth the risk,” Johnny said. “You’re fucking nuts man. Crazy ass fool. Only you would enjoy this type of shit. Sick, sick man...” Greg said while shaking his head. Johnny had a morbid interest in dead things that ran deep and went back as far as four by his mother’s account. He could remember puttering around the backyard as early as seven at his home back in Norwalk California looking for anything that was dead or that he could kill for fun and recreation. Once Johnny had a chance to assess the alleyway and what all it held, he counted five corpses’ including the two boilers and the man they had just killed. Rats were feeding on the two bodies that were not killed by the mens own doing. “Go ahead Greg, I’ll let you get the rats. Make sure you reload your weapon first,” Johnny said with a laugh. With two pumps and two pops of the shotgun, Greg made mince meat of the rats and the two men quickly composed themselves, not wanting to revel in their short lived success at surviving another moment in the dark world they now called their reality. For Johnny and Greg knew that these creatures were adept at hiding and hiding well. They were also so much smarter than the movies he grew up watching lead you to believe. Based off of what Johnny and Greg had seen with the man that had the unfortunate ending of being chewed on,

5. Boiler’s were ambush predators and would set and spring traps to catch their next meals or victims. The movies always made it’s audience believe that zombies were mindless drones and had one goal and mission to bite and infect the living. This just wasn’t true as Johnny and the others came to realize. Animals were not off of the menu either nor were there any more “Normal” animals on the island. In fact, Johnny, Greg, and a few others had a few notches on their “Proverbial Belts” by killing wild animals that were infected by Boilers with whatever it was that had claimed nearly all of the island’s visitors and inhabitants. Johnny claimed a kill of an enraged Panther, while Greg claimed that he had taken out a giant rat that was running towards one of the survivor’s pant leg, although no one had heard the gun go off or witnessed him kill the rat in question. “Let’s go Greg. We’ve got to get that ammo and get back to the others.” Johnny wiped the sweat, mixed with blood from the poor hapless soul on the alley floor, from his brow and went back to carefully scanning at ground level, then quickly back up to the fire escapes above their heads. Large trash bins provided ample cover for these abominations to hide behind and they both knew it. They made sweeping movements with their weapons; from left to right and back to the left again; ready to pull their finger back on the trigger. The men inched forward slowly towards the brown door at the end of the alley, taking half, shuffling steps in the process. They were careful not to step on the rotting corpses’ for fear that somehow the corpses’ would wake once again and turn the two of them into a Boiler. Johnny was out in front of Greg, while Greg was back peddling and covering their asses. The door was supposedly the rear entrance to the, “Guns, Pawns, N’ Things” store that they had seen from the street out front when driving by in their “Safe Haven” vehicle. They decided upon this method of entry due to one of the survivors by the name of “Gayle” swearing that she had seen a Boiler in the lobby of the store climbing on and shaking the security gates that the owner had obviously shut in a bid to ward off the invading Boilers. Only time would tell if there were any survivors behind those store gates. “POW!” Greg had fired his shotgun and the deafening sound reverberated off of the alley walls and seemed to echo on forever. It was so loud that Johnny was now in a heap close to the ground cupping his ears and trying to regain his hearing. Realizing that he should get up and scan the area for danger, rather than cower down near the floor, Johnny popped up with the speed of a trained assassin and prepared his weapon for

6. war! He looked left, then right again. There was nothing or no one around. Johnny looked at Greg curiously. “For fuck’s sake man; what were you shooting at?” Johnny asked Greg. Greg answered, “I put another slug into that fucker. He twitched.” “Geez man. Warn me next time or something,” Johnny said. “You’re gonna scare me to death before we even get to where we’re going.” “Yeah, let me just go ahead take them time to talk ya’ through what I’m doing next time,” Greg whispered. “You and I won’t be discussing shit. You and I will be a Boiler’s Bitch.” “Whatever man, shut the fuck up and let’s get going,” Johnny snapped back. They once again started forward towards the brown door and soon cleared the alley of anymore Boilers. Once there, the two men propped themselves up against the wall outside the door; one on each side staring at each other like a SWAT team would just before breaching a suspect’s home. As Johnny and Greg leaned against the wall they noticed dry blood in a pattern of running down the door and it’s frame. Greg pointed to the blood using a head nod. Johnny had already seen the blood but acknowledged Greg by nodding back in silence. They knew that what was on the other side was most likely, not good. They mentally prepared themselves for a battle once inside the pawn shop. All of the other buildings with blood on the doors and walls that they entered in days previous, proved to be inhabited by the Vamps and Boilers. The two of them took a deep breath, exhaled, and sighed. The two men tested the door knob with a little jiggle; it was open; and they had the same thought at the same time...This was going to get hairy.