A/N: Sorry it's been so long. I WISH I could update regularly, but I simply don't have the time :/ That being said I'll keep continuing no matter what cuz I love dis :D

Disclaimer: I don't own Metal Slug.

The Midnight Wandering

"All right, you assholes. Let's see what you've got."

The rotting bodies made no indication of hearing the man as they continued limping there way over. Tarma was ready to get rid of them; he could only handle so much of the smell. Intent on finding something other than zombies, the PF Squad Captain told himself that no matter the cost, he would not stop walking. He was going to make progress even if it killed him.

He continued stomping forward, his first foe nearing. It looked like it had once been a woman. Scanty remains of long hair dangled from its head, and the skin from its cheekbones was all but missing. Tarma grimaced hard and raised his gun. He had also told himself that it would be a good idea not to touch them, just to be on the safe side.

Still, he hadn't decided whether he should spare them or not. Outrunning them would be relatively easy, and he'd save bullets in the process, but a strange, unnerving itch in the back of his mind told him otherwise: the feeling that he'd regret not taking care of them when he had the chance.

Just fifteen feet away, the 'woman' moaned at him and stuck its arms out as if calling for him. Tarma readjusted his grasp on Eri with his left hand and used his right to pull his Glock's trigger. The bullet embedded itself in the thing's face, causing it to flinch but not stop its progression.

'So these things are pretty tough, eh?' he thought to himself. Just as expected. In all their travels, Tarma had learned that humans were strangely weaker than most other living things. 'Funny, how decaying somehow makes you stronger…'

A second shot nearly exploded the zombie's head. Dark, red blood and bluish-green flesh scattered across the snow, lit by the generous moon. Tarma wasn't sure whether he was jealous of Eri or not. The smell was putrid.

'That could be her if you don't hurry.'

The man cursed the voice in his head and continued forth. His body was cold, but his rage was hot. Walking into the open field near the aircraft, he spotted three more. He noted they were 'average' for zombies. Whatever that meant…

* BANG * * BANG *

* BANG *

* BANG * * BANG * * BANG *

The three bodies crumpled to the snow. 'Easy enough…' he sighed to himself. He knew better than to get cocky. You should never trust a zombie, after all. Tarma looked around him, observing the other collapsed forms on the ground. As far as he could see, there were no others standing. Had the rest caved in or somehow left without him noticing? Either way, Tarma peered forward. There was a trail next to the nose of the airplane leading down through more trees. He could see tread marks in the ground, where frozen, ripped up dirt lay. There was also less snow accumulated. That was it. He reloaded his eight rounds before heading down the pathway.

MS 3

The forest proved to be just as ominous as the crash site. Tarma's eyes and ears were working overtime in an effort to keep his surroundings in check. He guessed an airliner that size would easily house a hundred or so passengers, and he had seen no more than twenty so far. That only meant somewhere around eighty more were lurking within the Russian mountain range, and that wasn't including Rebel forces.

Tarma wiped a hand down his face, 'Talk about reassuring…' He silently wondered if his hair had turned gray yet due to all the stress.

"Mmaaahhh…"

The brown-haired man whipped to his left to see another female zombie just feet away from him. It was doing the classic zombie walk: mouth open, arms front, and feet dragging. Just as Tarma aimed his gun at its head, the figure stopped moving. Tarma's finger paused on the trigger and a bead of sweat rolled down his face. Their brains were just as rotted as the rest of them, but they still managed to confuse him. He watched as the former woman tilted its head back, before suddenly bringing it forward and shooting something out of its mouth.

"Jesus!"

Tarma held onto Eri and swiftly dove to the side, landing in the snow but bouncing up quickly. A large amount of blood-like vomit passed onto the ground where he had been standing. Without delaying any further, Tarma raised his weapon and popped two shots into its decaying skull.

"Damn it!" he swore and caught his breath. Making sure the thing was dead, he turned his attention to the newly formed puddle. "So these things can spit? Dangerous…" He could only imagine what the internal fluids of a zombie could do to a person, "I better watch it."

Surveying his surroundings once more, he turned and continued walking along the cleared path through the trees. He had to admit, he was getting tired of walking without seeing anything clear. 'At least I'm beginning to piece things together. There were obviously vehicles on this trail, which started near the crash. Now I just have to find out where they lead.'

Tarma stopped his movements and looked straight out ahead. With his eyebrows creased and his teeth clenched, he spoke aloud as if his recipients could understand him, "I'm getting real sick of you bastards."

As expected, blocking the path were three more zombies. However, upon closer examination, Tarma discerned different characteristics between them and the previous zombies he had fought. The first to catch the captain's eye was the leftmost one. It was certainly bigger than the other two, obviously a heavy eater in his lifetime. Tarma couldn't find anything else out of the ordinary, save for its contrasting size. The second one situated in the middle was an ugly, gray hunk of flesh. Tarma couldn't tell if the person had been male or female, only that they had been decaying as a zombie for quite some time. It looked like it had been burned to a crisp, chewed up, and spit out. Tarma suppressed the urge to heave.

The last one on the right made his eyes widen a bit. There was no mistaking it; Tarma had seen that uniform countless times before, and could feel his blood boil just from the sight of it. It had been a Rebel soldier through and through. Its tan regalia stood out like a sore thumb, covering all of its body save for its rotting face. Even the helmet was still strapped under its chin.

'So the Rebel army was involved with this… I guess that answers that question. But where did this guy come from? Maybe there's a base not too far from here. That would certainly explain these tracks.' Tarma wasn't sure if that was a good thing or not. On one hand, he may very well get to the bottom of this outbreak, but on the other hand…

Well, let's just say the Rebel army wasn't too fond of him or Marco.

Tarma's thoughts were cut short as the undead trio began limping towards him. Standard procedure, he supposed, but before he was able to pull his trigger on any of them, the left one stopped. It leaned over, as if dealing with some sort of stomach pain. Tarma knew he should be shooting and not watching, but his curiosity got the better of him. What the heck was it doing?

Without warning, the overweight zombie reeled back, revealing large, stark white ribs protruding from its abdomen. Accompanying the action was a surge of bloody fluid which he had dealt with before.

"Holy—!"

Tarma jumped back just in time to avoid the gush of liquid. It had traveled much faster than when it had been spat, and there was a lot more of it too. He was quickly learning these corpses were capable of a lot more than he initially thought. Pushing his sunglasses firmly against the bridge of his nose, Tarma got to business.

*BANG* *BANG*

One shot in the shoulder and another in the neck caused the heavy zombie to stagger, but it still carried on with the others. 'Okay… I guess these guys are a lot tougher than those other ones.' Tarma didn't understand why; was it due to the person or infection? He had a hard time believing a middle-aged, heavyset man was any stronger than average. It was possible that the strength of the zombie came from the seriousness of its virus. Not that he really cared at a time like this. If he needed to riddle them with bullets, then that was what he was going to do.

Keeping an eye on the other two limpers, Tarma shot another three bullets into the fat living dead. 'Damn, this thing's tough!' He only got two more off before noticing movement from the middle one. It brought a charred hand to its open abdomen and swiftly struck upwards, sending a veritable stream of the substance towards him. It scattered in a wide array, and its reflection of the moon light was the only reading the veteran had.

"God damn!" he yelled as he dove face-first to the side, hoping he'd be able to clear the spread of slimy discharge. Eri's still lifeless body was thrown off his shoulder and into the snow as Tarma lifted his bare arms out of the cold blanket. This was nuts. He apprehensively decided to leave Eri where she was until he dealt with these things. Standing and feeling the cold air brush his calf, he looked down to see a large hole in his pants just above his boots.

'Geez, what is that stuff? Acid?'

It definitely seemed like it. He had no doubt that whatever the 'zombie juice' was, it would eat his skin away in mere moments. The PF Squad Captain wondered if it was a byproduct of being a zombie, or the cause of zombification. Regardless, the thought of Eri coming into contact with that stuff made him shudder.

The obese zombie bent back again, showing its gnarly ribs, and giving Tarma just seconds to avoid its projectile. "Okay, big boy… I've had just about enough of you."

Setting his sights on its head, the mechanic open fired.

*BANG* *BANG* *BANG* *BANG*

Four shots, the last of which ripped its head clean off its body. Its deep moaning stopped as the beheaded body slumped to the blood-saturated snow, earning an exasperated sigh from Tarma.

"These things just don't qui—"

"REEEEEAAAAAAHHHH"

The zombie soldier leapt at him like a panther, much like the victim who infected Eri. Tarma raised his arms in defense as he was shoved to the ground. Ignoring the pain in his back from the hard landing, he immediately responded with a bicycle kick to its back. Fortunately, his leg carried enough force to send the undead soldier flying over him. The body hit the ground with a satisfying thump and Tarma shot off the ground to assess his molester. He'd be damned if he was going to let these things infect him.

The former Morden-follower had little time to recover before its head was expunged by rounds of ammo. Sure, the helmet didn't do Tarma any favors, but emptying his clip proved to be more than enough.

"Don't worry, ugly. I haven't forgotten about you," he threatened while turning to face the remaining creature. Tarma was sure the undead were incapable of understanding speech, but the tar-like ghoul immediately responded to his provocation with another greasy swipe of its arm. Tarma twisted behind a tree, taking cover from the ejection. Checking to see Eri almost peacefully cataleptic in the nearby bed of snow, he switched magazines and leaned around the trunk.

Nine shots later, the thing was still limping towards him with an arm and half of its face missing. Let it be known: as you decay, you do indeed become stronger. No wonder why Tarma never went into medicine. Reaching the end of his patience, the man aimed a final shot just right of the zombie's sternum.

*BANG*

The bullet pierced its heart and much to Tarma's surprise, the undead exploded into heaps of flesh, blood, and unknown zombie extract. Thankfully the tree provided enough cover and he hoped Eri was far enough away to avoid any repulsive debris.

Done.

"Damn… And here I thought those hermit crabs were bad. I guess I'm just—"

Tarma's self-reflectance was cut short as an elbow slithered around his neck and extinguished his supply of air. The mechanic gasped for air and clawed at the thin armed laced around his neck, unable to pry it off.

'What the—! Since when do zombies choke out their victims?'

Already low on breath, he had no choice but to try and overpower his aggressor. He flailed and bent forward trying to throw the thing off, but to his amazement it held on strong.

'What the hell!? Why is this thing so damn strong? I…can't fucking breathe!'

Thinking quickly, Tarma crouched and pushed off the ground with his legs back-first into a nearby tree trunk. As he made slammed his opponent's back against the tree, he heard a feminine gasp and the arms loosely released their hold on his neck. The captain lunged forward onto his hands and knees in a fit of coughing, desperate for air.

Not willing to remain vulnerable for much longer, he lifted himself up and pointed the barrel of his pistol at—

"E-Eri…?"

Tarma looked down in utter shock at the woman slumped against the tree. Her head hung low as she pressed a hand to her chest, but the Peregrine Falcons member couldn't see anything else wrong with her. She certainly didn't look like a zombie…

He lowered his gun with a million thoughts racing through his head. First thing was first, however, "H-Hey, Eri… You okay…?" he hesitantly leaned down and asked. Eri finished gaining her breath as he patiently waited before tentatively looking up.

"Tarma?" She stared at him, clearly just as confused, "Wha… Where the hell are we?"

'Huh?!'

Eri moved to lift herself up, but immediately winced and grabbed at her ribs. She cursed and slid back down the trunk into her sitting position. Tarma lifted his sunglasses atop his head, "Uh… Are you all right?"

Her painful expression was pretty self-explanatory, but she shook her head for added effect, "I feel like one of my ribs is broken."

Tarma looked away from her guiltily, 'Whoops...' He turned back to apologize to her before stopping himself. Wasn't she the one choking him? There was nothing else around, save for the sinful remains of his foes. Just what the hell was happening right now?

"And damn, my arm on…fire?" Eri's breath caught in her throat as she peered over her arm. It had gotten worse from before. Her entire forearm's pigmentation had changed into a sickly, pale blue. The cuts were enflamed beyond belief, and the blood had dried to a dark brown.

"W-What happened…?" Her voice was weak and quiet, and it made Tarma clench his fists.

"You mean you don't remember?"

The blonde's hands rose to cradle her head, "We're on our mission, right? God, my head is killing me! And why am I wearing your vest?"

"Eri…" Tarma began cautiously, thinking about how to phrase what he wanted to say. Should he just say it? Tell her she was infected and will be a zombie before long? Knowing Eri, that's what she'd want him to say, but he couldn't bring himself to do so. "Just take it easy, all right? You, uh…"

The worry was quickly beginning to set in as she fidgeted against the tree, "Tarma, what's going on?" The Memphis Bomber surveyed their surroundings with unease. It was hard for her to see anything other than snow and trees, but the moon gave enough light for her to see a few heaps of bloody, torn up bodies. The awful stench that diffused through the air proved Eri's suspicion. "What on Earth happened here? Ugh, what is that smell?!"

"Eri, listen to me," Tarma leaned forward and placed his hand on her shoulder. "We found the survivors of the plane crash but they've been infected by…something. I'm almost certain Rebel soldiers are in the area to; they're probably the ones to blame."

Eri winced as her head throbbed, but managed to tilt it questioningly, "Infected? What do…you mean?"

"Zombies, Eri… That's what I mean."

He watched as her eyes nearly bulged out of their sockets, and he could barely see her thin, blonde eyebrows since they were raised so high. "Zombies…? Are you serious?"

Tarma didn't say anything. The grim line that was his mouth remained and Eri seemed to get what he was trying to make her see. Her eyes hesitantly drifted down to her injured arm, silently hoping what she saw before had somehow vanished. Her entire arm was numb; the red scrapes were now nearly purple and her surrounding forearm was tinted pale blue. This had to be a dream, or a nightmare rather. Just what the hell had happened to her? Her memory was beginning to come back, which brought into question why she couldn't remember things in the first place. She remembered that thing at the base of the mountain trail which Tarma dubbed a zombie. Had it infected her?

All she remembered after that was walking up the path and feeling terrible while doing so. One thing was for sure: something was wrong with her. Her mind wasn't working well, as if it was playing tricks on her. Something seemed to snap inside her head and she frantically rose to her feet. Tarma cautiously watched Eri clutch at her arm.

"Holy…shit… I'm… I'm turning into a zombie! Tarma, I'm—!"

He grabbed both of her biceps and gently shook her, "Get a hold of yourself, Eri! Now listen, I called for pickup and they'll be here in a few hours, so what I need you to do is—"

"N-No! Get…away!" The stern SPARROWS soldier squirmed out of his grip and pushed away from him. She took a few steps back as her eyes darted between him and her surroundings. Eri backed up into the tree and jumped at the contact. The PF Squad Captain watched her in bewilderment. She looked like a scared animal, and he carefully reached a hand out to her.

"Eri, don't worry. Everything's going to be fine. I'm gonna get you out of here, okay? I promise. There's nothing to—"

"I-I'll infect you…too… There's no…time… I…have to…"

Eri's eyes closed and her body became limp as she fainted. Tarma leaned forward and caught her in his arms, checking her over and shaking her for a response, "Eri! Hey, can you hear me?! Eri!" She was gone again. Out cold, just like before. Then again, he hadn't exactly expected her to wake up and start talking. And by the way she was acting, maybe it was a good thing.

Tarma took a deep breath and collected himself. This was by far the craziest, most stressful mission he'd ever been on. Nothing made sense, and Eri's life was on the line. He picked her up in his arms and continued down the forest path. Somewhere in these mountains was a Rebel base and he needed to find it.

If he was lucky enough, they'd have exactly what he was looking for.

A/N: Don't worry, Eri'll be back in no time (or will she?)

Thanks, and reviews are always welcomed and appreciated.