Rise of the Undead Box Set | Books 1-3 | Apocalypse Z

by Higgins, Baileigh

  The soldiers spent most of their days fishing. It was a means to pass the time and provide food for everyone on board. So far, they had yet to disappoint.

  The fish flopped around on the boat, its pink gills gasping for oxygen until someone ended its misery by slitting its throat. Blood pooled onto the wooden floorboards, and the fish ceased its struggles as its life bled away. She stared at the spectacle, half sorry for the creature until Saul gripped her arm.

  “You should lie down and get some rest. I’ll call you when it’s time to eat,” he said.

  “Thanks,” Tara said, grateful for a chance to get out of the heat. She made her way to her bunk and sank onto the thin mattress. A breeze swept through the open windows of her cabin, cooling her fevered skin. Within minutes, she was fast asleep.

  ***

  Tara gasped as she came awake with a start. Her cheek lay nestled in a puddle of blood, her blood, not fish blood. It took a few seconds for the dream to fade back into her memory bank. She was at Fort Knox inside her lab. The boat was long ago and far away.

  She blinked, taking in her surroundings. The lights were back on, but the sirens still wailed their awful song, which meant she had to find Saul. They had to get out of there before the Fort was overrun. My research!

  Tara stifled a groan as she sat upright, one hand pressed to the bleeding lump on her temple. It hurt like mad, and her head swam until she wanted to puke. The sirens weren’t helping much either. They melded with the throbbing pain until she thought she’d pass out again.

  Suddenly, a chair scraped across the floor, and an inhuman shriek cut through the air. She stopped moving, her eyes wide with fright. One of the infected was inside her lab. While she’d been passed out on the floor, it had made its way into the facility. In an instant, her mind cleared as adrenaline coursed through her veins.

  Dropping low to the ground, Tara peered underneath the tables and counters, looking for the infected. Her eyes fixed on a pair of booted feet running up and down the length of the room. One of the guards, probably. She knew what he was doing. He was hunting, searching for prey. And when he found her, he would kill her.

  Tara closed her eyes for a brief moment, gathering the courage to act. She picked up her fallen gun and gripped it with both hands. She’d never killed before. Not even an infected. It hadn’t been necessary with Saul always around to protect her. But he wasn’t here. She was alone, and she had to defend herself and her work.

  She made a swift calculation in her head. Her gun wouldn’t be accurate at that range. She needed to draw the zombie closer. Close enough for a shot to the head. It was now or never. She tensed her muscles and jumped to her feet. “Over here!”

  The zombie charged.

  The distance between them closed.

  Chairs, desks, notepads, and electronics went flying.

  Her finger trembled on the trigger, and she itched to pull it. “Come on, come on.”

  When the infected was almost upon her, she took the shot. A blast of iron pellets tore through the zombie’s head, and its face disintegrated into a cloud of blood, bone, and brains. The corpse fell to the ground where it lay twitching.

  Tara stared at the gory mess in front of her, unable to move. She’d done it. She’d killed a man. All sound faded away. The sirens. The echo of the shot. None of it mattered as horror froze her to the spot. Then a familiar voice caused her to wheel around.

  “Tara! Tara, are you okay?” Saul cried, running toward her. He grabbed her by the shoulders, his hands brushing over her face and body. “Did you get bitten?”

  Tara shook her head. “No. No, I’m fine.”

  He pulled her against his chest, crushing the breath from her lungs. “Thank God. I don’t know what I’d do if you were hurt.”

  Tara buried her face in his jacket, allowing his familiar scent to calm her. “I’m okay. I’m okay.”

  Finally, they pulled apart, and Saul brushed the tears from Tara’s cheeks with a gentle thumb. “Can you run? We need to get out of here.”

  “Is it gone? The Fort, I mean,” Tara asked, unable to believe that the mighty institution could fall. She’d thought it was safe.

  “They’re trying to turn the tide, but there’s too many infected. Thousands and thousands of them.”

  “How’s that even possible?” Tara said.

  “Your guess is as good as mine,” Saul said, grabbing her hand. “Let’s go.”

  “Wait,” Tara cried, pulling away. “Just one second.”

  “We don’t have time to waste,” Saul said, his voice rising in urgency. “We need to go now.”

  “I know, but it’s the last of the cure. Three vials. That’s all I’ve got,” Tara said, running to a metal safe bolted to the floor.

  Saul paced up and down as she thumbed in the code to unlock it, his body coiled as tightly as a spring. “Hurry, Tara!”

  “Got it,” she shouted with a triumphant look in his direction, waving a metal case in the air.

  “What about your research?”

  She patted her pocket. “Got the hard drive right here.”

  “Good. Let’s go.” He grabbed her hand and rushed her out of the lab. They ran through the corridors, their footsteps echoing around them. Luckily, it was deserted — none of the other staff put in the kind of hours Tara did.

  They reached the exit, a set of swing doors usually guarded by two soldiers, one of whom just tried to kill her. Saul barged through after a quick look to make sure the area was clear. In front of them loomed a Humvee. Military issue.

  Saul opened the passenger door and hustled Tara inside before running around and jumping into the driver’s seat. “Right. Let’s get out of here.”

  As he ignited the engine, Tara said, “One more thing.”

  “What’s that?” Saul asked with exasperation stamped across his features.

  “We need to get Dylan, and the little girl, Mary.”

  “What? Why?” Saul said. “There’s no way we’ll make it.”

  “I know, but I need their blood, Saul. You three …you’re the future,” Tara said. “With that and my research, I can still save everyone. I’m sure of it.”

  Saul shook his head, his lips set in a straight line. “No, Tara. It’s impossible.”

  “Please, Saul. I’m begging you,” Tara pleaded, wringing her hands.

  Saul hesitated for a long moment before relenting. “Fine. We’ll get Dylan first. She’s the closest.”

  Tara sagged into her seat with relief. “Thank you, Saul.”

  He nodded, his expression grim. “Don’t thank me yet. We still have to make it out of here alive.”

  “I know, but thank you for trying.”

  “Only for you, Tara. Now, buckle up. It’s going to be a bumpy ride,” Saul said as he jammed his foot on the gas and spun away in a cloud of dust.

  Chapter 3 - Amy

  Amy shifted around on the stretcher she’d been issued by a grumpy Staff Sergeant when they first arrived. The tent was cold, and she shivered beneath her thin blanket. Not for the first time, she wished she was back home and tucked inside her bed with its handmade quilt and poofy pillows.

  Alex had no such problem and lay snoring across from her. He was probably used to such things because of his time in the army. Amy checked her watch. It was close to three in the morning. She needed to get some shut-eye. She was on kitchen duty the next day. That meant getting up at five to help the cooks prepare breakfast for several hundred soldiers and almost as many civilians.

  Huddling into a tiny ball, she closed her eyes, willing herself to fall asleep. After a few minutes, she dozed off, only to jerk awake when the sirens went off.

  Amy sat upright, her heart pounding in her chest. She’d been briefed about the sirens, and Alex had driven the lesson home many times as well. Zombies had broken through their defenses. They were under attack. “Alex!”

  “I’m up,” he answered, swinging his legs to the ground and reaching for his boots. His eyes were bright and alert like
he’d never slept at all. Another thing he must have learned in the army. “Get dressed. We need to move. Now.”

  “What are we going to do?” Amy asked as she shrugged on her sneakers and jersey. Once her hair was tied back, she belted on her knife, a gift from Alex, and reached for her shotgun. It was the same one she’d brought from home.

  When they first arrived at Fort Knox, they were forced to surrender their arms. But once they’d proven themselves capable with guns and trustworthy, their weapons were returned. She had a pocket full of shells too, though it wouldn’t last long in a firefight. At least Alex had his rifle and sidearm plus a magazine for each.

  “We’re getting out of here,” Alex said. “I know where the vehicles and keys are kept.”

  “What about Dylan?”

  Alex hesitated for a split second. “We’ll fetch her first. I know how much she means to you.”

  “You’d do that for me?” Amy asked, secretly relieved. She was fond of Dylan and loathed the thought of leaving her behind. They’d been visiting her every day, cheering her on during her recovery.

  “Of course. She’s one of us now. She saved my life, and we saved hers.” He slung his rifle across his chest and checked that his guns were loaded. Finally, he grabbed his duffel bag and tossed it onto his back. “Ready?”

  “I’m ready,” Amy affirmed.

  Alex stuck his head through the tent opening to survey their surroundings. “It’s clear for now, but it won’t be for long. We’ll have to run. The infirmary is a mile away. Stick close to me, don’t stop for anything, and shoot anyone that tries to hurt you. Got that?”

  Amy swallowed hard on the lump in her throat. She was more scared than she’d ever been in her entire life. “O…okay.”

  Alex paused, and his gaze softened. “You can do this, Sis. We’re in this together. Family, right?”

  Amy sucked in a deep breath and gripped her shotgun with a firmer grip. “Family. I’ve got your back, Alex.”

  He smiled. “That’s my girl. We Donahue’s are tough, and we never give up.”

  Amy couldn’t help but return his smile with a sense of pride. It relieved her fears and reminded her what she was fighting for every day. “Never!”

  “Let’s go.” With those words, Alex ducked outside and set off at a swift jog with Amy close on his heels.

  The first few minutes passed with relative ease as they ran through the rows of tents set up for the civilians. It didn’t last. The sirens had awakened everyone, and they soon began milling around in a panic with no clear idea of where to go. Alex noticed and shouted at the top of his lungs. “Get to the evacuation points. Remember the drills.”

  His instructions soon took effect, and families began streaming toward the places laid out by army instructors in the event of a breach. Supposedly, trucks and buses would take them to safety, and Amy hoped it was true for all their sakes.

  Overhead, spotlights lit the compound, but it wasn’t long before they shut off, dumping everything into darkness. That was when the screaming began. People went crazy, shoving, and pushing each other in an attempt to make headway.

  “Amy, over here,” Alex cried, producing a flashlight from his pocket. “Follow me.”

  Amy stuck as close to Alex as she could, his dark shape bobbing in front of her. Suddenly, a heavy blow sent her reeling, and she lost her footing. Tumbling to the ground, she cried out as a sharp pain shot up her leg. “Alex, help me!”

  “Amy, where are you?” he answered, his light flashing back and forth.

  “Over here,” she answered, waving her hand over her head. A foot connected with her ribs and Amy fell back into the dirt. More people streamed past, one stepping on her hand while a knee connected with her jaw.

  Amy curled into a little ball, tucking her limbs away. Her body rocked back and forth, buffeted by the crowd that swarmed over her like a plague of locusts. Her head swam, and blood coated her tongue. She was being trampled to death, a fragile blossom crushed into the earth by the stampeding mob. Nobody cared, nobody stopped to help, and Amy felt more alone than ever before in her life. “Somebody help me, please.”

  A hand grasped her shoulder. “Amy?”

  She looked up into her brother’s face and sobbed with relief. “Alex!”

  “Are you hurt?” he asked. Acting like a shield, he helped her to get to her feet.

  “A little,” she said, not wanting to alarm him.

  “Can you run?”

  “I think so,” she replied, gingerly testing her twisted ankle. It hurt, but she thought she could continue.

  With a growl of anger, he bulldozed his way ahead, one arm around Amy’s shoulders. Overhead, a couple of lights flickered back on as the generators kicked in, but they were barely strong enough to light the way. Still, it was better than nothing, and they set off toward the infirmary once more.

  It was one mile to get to the hospital, but to Amy, it felt like ten. Every step sent a jab of pain up her injured leg, her chest twinged with every breath she took, and her left hand was swollen and tender. With a muttered curse her mother would not have approved of, she forced herself to keep moving. They had to get to Dylan.

  “Come on. We’re almost there,” Alex said as they left the last of the tents behind.

  To their right loomed the building that housed the communal kitchen and common room. It had been hastily converted to serve the burgeoning number of survivors that fled to the Fort’s gates. The infirmary lay just ahead, and Amy sped up as hope filled her heart. We’re going to make it!

  Suddenly, a burst of gunfire tore through the night. With a cry, Alex yanked her to the ground as bullets cut through the air overhead. “Get down.”

  In the distance, muffled booms rocked the night, the vibrations traveling through the earth and up their spines. A flare shot into the sky and hung there like a beacon of death. It cast a surreal glow over the scene below.

  Out of the murk, a careening figure appeared, howling like a banshee. Without pause, Alex aimed his rifle and fired off a couple of shots. The crazed person jerked several times then plowed to the ground mere feet away.

  Amy stared at the body. “Is that a…a…you know?”

  “Zombie,” Alex said. “They’re inside. We have to hurry.”

  He hauled her back to her feet and ran in a low crouch, which she tried to copy. Now and then, he’d stop and blast away at an incoming infected before continuing further. The noise was deafening — a hellish mixture of screams, howls, gunfire, explosions, and the ever-present sirens.

  Finally, when Amy thought she couldn’t take anymore, they reached the entrance to the infirmary. The guards were missing, and the doors wide open. A smear of blood coated one pane of glass, and she prayed that Dylan was alright. Please. She’s my friend. I need her to be okay.

  “Be careful,” Alex cautioned. “We don’t know how many’s inside already.”

  “I’m ready. Let’s do this,” Amy said, gathering together the shreds of her courage. She would be brave for her friends and family. She had to.

  Together, they braved the echoing halls of the infirmary. The lights flickered above their heads, giving it a ghoulish feel, and an occasional smear of blood marred the tiled floor. Alex stayed one step ahead, his shoulders tensed and ready. They passed several closed doors, storage rooms, and such before they reached the entrance to the waiting room.

  Alex moved toward it but stopped abruptly with a startled cry. “Holy shit.”

  Amy peered around his bulk and sucked in a deep breath. The scene in front of her came straight from a horror movie, the stuff of nightmares.

  In the middle of the room stood a pale apparition in a short hospital gown. In her hands, she gripped an ax, and her dark hair obscured her face. The scent of copper hung heavy in the atmosphere, mixed with the stench of feces and bile. Strewn around her bare feet lay the remains of several bodies: Arms, legs, heads, and torsos.

  There was more blood than Amy had ever seen before in her life. It dripped fro
m the woman’s hair and ax, streaked her limbs, and drenched her clothes. It pooled around her feet, a lake of crimson death.

  Then Alex uttered a single sentence, and Amy couldn’t believe what he was saying. She couldn’t reconcile the image in front of her with the friend she knew and loved. It was impossible.

  He said, “Dylan? Is that you?”

  Chapter 4 - Alex

  Alex stared at the woman in front of him, unable to believe it was her. Yet, it had to be. He recognized the shape of her body, the long legs, the set of her shoulders, and red hair, though it was hard to tell if it was red or just coated in blood. “Dylan? Is that you?”

  The woman raised a blank face to him, and their eyes met. It was Dylan. For several moments, nothing happened, and Alex began to wonder if she’d finally turned. Maybe the cure hadn’t worked, after all. Then she nodded, though she didn’t speak or move.

  “Are you okay?” he asked.

  Still no answer.

  Alex reached out a tentative hand and stepped forward. His boot came down on something hard, and he heard an audible pop. He lifted his foot and looked down at the remains of an eyeball.

  Vomit rose in his throat, and he swallowed hard. A limbless torso with its guts hanging out lay next to it, and he quickly looked away. Never had he seen such a scene of wanton destruction in his life. His eyes lifted to the ax in Dylan’s hands. A fat droplet of blood formed on the blade before it plopped down into the pool below.

  Behind him, Amy turned away and retched, the sight of the slaughter too much for her tender stomach. He didn’t blame her. His stomach was at the point of total revolt, as well.

  “I don’t think I can do this,” he said, clapping one hand over his mouth as he turned away.

  Dylan stirred. “I had to kill them. I had no choice.”

  “Were they…infected?” he asked, not sure if he wanted to know the answer.

  She nodded, and relief coursed through the horror inside his chest. They were zombies, not innocent people murdered by a madwoman.