by David Rogers
“Right.” Holly nodded. “Everywhere. And by Sunday, it was bad.”
“They won.” Frank snorted as he tore open the end of the box of cakes.
“We don’t know that.” Bob protested.
“Yeah, then why’s he the first guy we’ve seen in three days? Where are the cops, the military, the government?”
“That’s a good question.” Lloyd said quickly, guessing Bob was about to call Frank an asshole again, and wanting to keep the information flowing. “Where are the authorities?”
“They’re gone.” Holly said quietly. “Maybe not all of them, not all of them everywhere, but enough. Last news we got said the Feds were evacuating what was left out of DC. Said something about trying to consolidate the remaining military units somewhere in the Midwest, but if they did it, or if it’s working, we haven’t heard about it.”
“What about Georgia? What happened to Atlanta?”
Bob tapped ash from his cigarette into the sandwich box he’d opened. “Governor evacuated out of Atlanta on Friday afternoon. By Saturday he’d declared martial law and ordered an evacuation of the entire metro area down there.”
“Too late.” Frank shrugged as he ripped open a Star Crunch.
“Yeah, way too late.” Holly agreed. “TV was starting to fail by then.” Lloyd gave her a curious look, and she shrugged. “Channels would go dark for a couple of hours at a time, then pick back up again with announcements they were broadcasting from somewhere outside Atlanta at another affiliate. Then they started going down and staying down. Then they all went down.”
“Radio lasted a little longer, but only because some of the transmitters were taken over by locals.” Frank said before taking a huge bite of his snack cake.
“One of the last bits of news we heard said whatever was left of the government was going to bomb all the big cities, the ones that had fallen to the zombies.”
“Bomb, as in bomb.” Bob interjected quietly when Lloyd opened his mouth.
“You know, like boom?” Frank said thickly through his mouthful of chocolate and caramel.
“Yeah. They were hoping it would thin out the threat.” Holly shook her head sadly.
“It did.” Frank pointed out.
“Not enough.” Holly sighed. “And they took too long if the goal was to get most of the zombies, because by the time they started dropping a lot of the bastards had wandered out in search of . . .”
“Us.”
Lloyd took a deep breath. It wasn’t the explanation he’d expected, and it was all bad, but he’d asked and they’d answered. “So what’s the plan now?” They all blinked at him for several seconds, long enough that he felt compelled to elaborate. “You know, the plan? How we’re going to fix this?”
“Who’s we?” Frank asked after a moment.
“What? You know, us. All of us. Whoever’s left.”
Bob started stubbing his cigarette out in the sandwich box. “I hate to be the one to tell you this, but there ain’t all that many we or us left.”
“We’re sorta cut off.” Holly explained.
“Wait, you’re telling me everyone’s gone?”
“Not everyone.” Frank said.
“You don’t know that.” Holly pointed out quickly.
“Yeah, well, if we’re the last ones left, why are you still holding out on me?”
Holly reddened. “I am not having that argument again.”
“Yeah, not funny.” Bob said with a frown as he put the lid back on the sandwich box and pressed it down so it would seal.
“If we’re literally the last ones left, don’t we have a duty to further the human race?”
“Dude, it’s been a week. Lay off.” Bob said in a voice that denoted no amusement.
Lloyd took another drink of water. “You’re not in touch with, you know, anyone else?”
“Power’s been out since Wednesday. Phones stopped working before that.”
Lloyd frowned. “So . . . what’s your plan then?”
“Stay alive.” Bob shrugged.
“You’re just going to live in a drug store forever?”
“No, we were thinking we could transfer over to the Ingles at the end of the month.” Frank shrugged. “There’s enough food in there for all three of us – sorry four now I guess – to probably make it all the way through the winter.”
“Not the way you eat.” Holly muttered.
“Hey, you’re the one that said this is junk food crap that won’t do much to keep us alive.” Frank said heatedly.
“It is.”
“So you won’t mind if I eat as much of it as I want then.”
“That’s your entire plan?” Lloyd asked, his tone making it clear he was striving to be certain. “Hide inside?”
“Well . . . what else are we supposed to do?” Bob asked.
Lloyd shrugged. “I don’t know, go find others I guess.”
“What others?”
“Yeah, we told you you’re the first person we’ve seen since everything fell apart.” Holly added.
“Have you looked?”
“A little.” Holly shrugged. “The town didn’t last long. A lot of folks lit out on Monday, but by then there were hundreds of zombies roaming around the area. I don’t know how far any of them might have made it.”
Lloyd looked around, then leaned forward and grabbed the box of Little Debbies. Frank opened his mouth to protest, but closed it when Lloyd shook two of the snack cakes out and tossed the box back at him. “And you guys stayed.”
“Well, yeah. Where else are we gonna go?” Bob said.
“Gotcha.” Lloyd nodded, opening his rucksack and pulling out his sleeping bag. “I guess I’m invited to spend the night then?”
“Sure, make yourself at home. Not like we’ve got anything else to do but shoot the shit and sit on the roof keeping an eye out.”
Chapter Three – Leaving it all behind
“You’re seriously leaving?”
“Yup.” Lloyd nodded as he continued rolling up his sleeping bag. Sleeping on the floor of a store was not as comfortable as sleeping in out in the forest. Concrete was unyielding. Dirt and clay at least had a little give, especially when it had a layer of pine needles or leaves on it. He was a touch stiffer than he liked, but he knew that would work itself out within half an hour at worst. He just needed some activity.
“Did we not cover the whole zombie thing clearly enough?” Bob persisted.
“You covered it.”
“Must not have if you’re planning on heading out on foot.” Frank muttered.
Lloyd shrugged. “I told you. I had a wife and kids in Marietta. They might be dead, but I don’t know. And until I do, I can’t live with not knowing. So I’m going to go try and find out.” There was no way he could just sit around in here without at least trying to find out what had happened to Maggie and the kids. He might not ever know, but he did know if he sat here he definitely wouldn’t.
“Dude, did we not cover the bomb thing either?”
“You covered it.”
Holly frowned. “Atlanta is over a hundred miles from here.”
“Yeah, about that.” Lloyd nodded.
“You’re going to walk down there?”
“My truck wasn’t at the garage down the street.” Lloyd said as he stuffed the sleeping bag into his rucksack. “And even if it is still there, how far am I going to get if the gas stations aren’t working.”
“You’re serious?” Frank asked.
Lloyd sat back on his haunches. “Yeah.” he said simply, studying them.
“You’re crazy.”
“No, I’m married.” he said. The previous day he’d learned Bob was a middle aged bachelor, Frank was twenty-four and unmarried, and Holly’s husband had been one of the first wave of zombies that had converted in Hiawassee. “If you were, you might understand.”
“For better or worse babe.” he thought as he straightened and stood.
“Leave it alone.” Bob said quickly when Frank opened his mouth.
“Seriously.” Bob said. He gave Frank a dose of heavy eye for a few more seconds, then looked at Lloyd. “You realize your odds of making it that far aren’t that great?”
Lloyd shrugged. “I don’t know. On foot I can avoid the roads and towns. You said all the zombies are where people are, or were I guess. I won’t be going through those places until I get down to Atlanta. I figure it shouldn’t take me all that long to make it, maybe by Wednesday with a little luck.”
“Luck is right.” Frank muttered.
“That’s a long way on foot.” Holly pointed out.
“Yeah, well I read about a military unit that walked further than that in only three days during World War 2.” Lloyd said as he stood up.
“Wasn’t that the one they made that mini-series about?” Bob asked curiously.
“Yup. There was a book too.” Lloyd said. “I thought it was better than the show.”
“Whatever.” Frank said. “That was military. You’re not military.”
“Nope. But I just spent a week on my feet twelve hours a day, and I usually run thirty or thirty-five miles a week when I’m at home. I bet I probably logged at least twenty miles a day for the last week, and that was all on slopes, because it was fun. I’ll be fine. I’m used to the exercise.”
“Yeah, but alone?”
Lloyd walked over to the nearest intact shelves and started browsing through the food-like objects. It really was just about all junk. Beef jerky and pretzels were the healthiest options available. Well, and some little individually packaged containers of applesauce. They had lots of sugar added to them so kids would eat them like pudding, but they were still based on apples. That was better than pure sugar like the candy, and he didn’t like potato chips when he was going to be active. The grease was too heavy.
“You’re crazy.” Frank said again.
“What if you can’t find them?” Holly asked.
Lloyd started pulling things off the shelves, selecting carefully. He took one box of twelve little containers of applesauce because they were heavy; but he knew a little variety would be worth the weight. Enough beef jerky to keep him going for a week, and two bags of pretzels. That was several pounds of food, and he’d fill another five or six with bottled water. That would be enough that he shouldn’t need to do any scrounging or fishing, so he could just worry about walking.
“I’ll figure something out.” he said as he returned to the little campsite near the front barricade.
“You’re safe here.” Bob said.
Lloyd stuffed his selections into the rucksack, then hefted it experimentally. Yeah, some water, and he’d be set. Putting the ruck back down, he shook his head. “This isn’t safe. This is hiding.”
“You’re asking to get eaten.”
“Maybe.” Lloyd said without interest. “But I know if I sit around somewhere I’ll be dead anyway.”
“How’s that?”
He sighed and gestured around. “There’s more to life than just being alive. If you’re not doing something, if you’re not living for something, then what’s the point?” He looked at their faces for a few moments then shrugged. “I’m not condemning you guys, and I’m not saying you should come with me. But I’m going, and that’s all there is to it.”
Gathering up some water, Lloyd loaded them into his pack, then got it slung up on his back so he could check the weight. “You gonna help me with the rope ladder, or should I just go out the front door?”
“I’ll help with the ladder.” Bob said quickly. “I think you’re making a mistake, but it’s yours to make.”
“You said it.” Frank muttered.
“Yup.” Lloyd nodded agreeably. He went through the store to the back room, where he picked up the rope and headed up the stairs to the roof. When he got outside, he took a few moments to scan around. The store was only a single story, but a commercial story was about two of a residential one. He had a decent vantage point to have a good look around at what was going on in the town.
There were still a number of zombies clustered in the hospital parking lot, at least a hundred. Others were visible scattered around, mostly north, closer in to the center of Hiawassee. He saw a few wandering around on the road to the southeast. They didn’t bother him all that much, but he looked south and shaded his eyes against the morning sun.
Lake Chatuge bordered the town in that direction, but at the nearest little dock slip in view he saw a simple row boat tied up. That was more than enough to cross and avoid having to detour southeast. Plus, on the other side, he would be almost immediately back into the thick pine forest and mountain slopes. As he traveled south the mountains would start to thin out and get less impressive, but he knew there was plenty of fairly unsettled land between here and Atlanta. That would keep him away from places zombies were the most likely to be.
“It ought to work out just fine.” he muttered.
“What?”
Lloyd turned and saw Bob had made it up the stairs. “Nothing. I want to drop off the south side if you don’t mind.”
“Makes no difference to me. It’s your funeral.” Bob said agreeably, but with an undercurrent of unhappiness. He took the rope from Lloyd and walked over to the southern edge of the roof. He looped one end around his waist and wrapped it around his left forearm several times before gripping it tightly with that hand. The ladder end he tossed off the side of the building.
“You sure you don’t want to maybe rig up a weapon or something?” Bob asked as he adjusted his distance from the edge of the roof. “There are some brooms and stuff in the store’s back room, you could use one as a club or a spear or something.”
“No, it’d just be more to carry. And you guys tell me all the zombies are slow. I’ll manage.”
“Alright.” Bob shrugged again as he finished stepping back from the edge. Now the ladder rungs began right at the roof, so Lloyd could easily reach them. Lloyd glanced down, but there was no movement. The back side of the building was clear of any zombies. Nothing but scrub bushes and rain beaten clay dirt.
He stepped out onto the ladder cautiously, waiting to make sure Bob could handle his weight. If there was a problem, Lloyd would at least have a chance to grab at the edge. But Bob seemed unbothered by it, so Lloyd descended quickly. He was on the ground in moments, and looked up at the roof. “I’m down.”
A few moments later, Bob appeared at the edge. He looked down and started hauling up the rope. “You’re sure you’re sure?”
“I am.” Lloyd called back. “Thanks for the news and for the shelter last night. You guys take care.”
“Yeah, you too I guess.” Bob said.
Lloyd hefted his ruck and started walking south.
# # #
If you enjoyed this short, you might find Apocalypse Atlanta entertaining. Free samples are available, so why not give it a try?
Also by David Rogers
Apocalypse Atlanta – We’ve all seen it on the news every year. A hurricane, a tornado, a tsunami, a flood. A BAD thing happens, and all hell breaks loose.
Some people are caught in the chaos, others are victims, some run, others wait for help, most sit at home watching for everything to be fixed for them, and a few dive in to do whatever they can.
The thing about a zombie apocalypse is whether or not you’re in that initial wave of people who get hungry and start snacking. And where you are as few turn to many. As we all know, when it’s zombies, soon many turns to most. And it’s over when most become all.
Apocalypse Atlanta follows three people as the zombies start eating and bring the world down around them a bite at a time.
One is a retired Marine. The second is a widowed single mother. And the third is a biker.
Are there right or wrong answers when zombies are involved? Do things like morality and decency matter? Is it better to be alive to feel guilty, or dead an honorable? Who decides who’s right or wrong when a single mistake can make you dinner for a ravenous horde of the undead?
The story that started it all, the preceding book to Apocalypse Aftermath.
http://www.amazon.com/Apocalypse-Atlanta/dp/B00D538D6M/
Apocalypse Aftermath – the follow-up to Apocalypse Atlanta, continuing the stories of Peter, Jessica, and Darryl.
When an apocalypse starts, there's always running and screaming. Sooner or later, most of that starts to fade; if only because most of the runners and screamers are dead. Once the end of the world gets going in earnest, the sprint becomes a marathon. You can’t run all the time, can you?
Saving someone is easy. Helping them is what's hard. Heroes happen all the time. After those moments when you become someone's saviour, what comes next? One day turns to two, and then the days are a week. Time keeps ticking by, and if you're going to keep from being ground beneath the clock’s relentless push, you've got to find the essentials for life. Food, water, shelter, safety. Everything else is negotiable.
Apocalypse Aftermath picks up where Apocalypse Atlanta leaves off; following three people, each going in three different directions, all trying to survive the end of the world. The same question faces Peter, Jessica, and Darryl; what’s next? What’s a safe path to follow, one that doesn’t place them and those they’re with at risk of becoming a meal for the zombies? What’s the right move, and how do they see it for what it is in time to act? Which way is the right way?
Because whether you’re an aging retired Marine, a widowed single mother, or a biker who bounces, the problem is the same.
Zombies.
http://www.amazon.com/Apocalypse-Aftermath/dp/B00KKB43E8
Bite Sized Apocalypse – an anthology of five short stories set in the universe of Apocalypse Atlanta. The common thread are the zombies. Each story looks at a different little slice of the apocalypse as it gets going for those particular characters. Little bite-sized chunks of it.
Is that a dinner bell I hear?
http://www.amazon.com/Bite-Sized-Apocalypse/dp/B00DUFWNKW/
The five stories in Bite Sized Apocalypse are also available individually.
Better to be Lucky – You've thought about it. What would the first few hours of a zombie apocalypse be like? For one company of military police, it was like almost any other job in the service. Boredom with flashes of sheer, howling terror.