by Rosaria, A.
DEAD START
ZOMBIECLYPSE BOOK FOUR
By A.Rosaria
Kindle Edition
Copyright © 2019 by Alex Rosaria
This e-book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the writer's imagination or have been used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, locales or organizations is entirely coincidental.
All rights are reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission from the author.
TABLE OF CONTENT
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Four
Also By Author
Contact
CHAPTER ONE
“Where are we going?”
Sarah stopped and glared at the shorter dark-haired girl walking beside her. She wished Priscilla stopped nagging and kept on marching in silence instead. Priss jutted her gaunt face up and bore into Sarah with her sharp, bright eyes. “Do you actually know where we are going?”
Sarah slid her backpack from her shoulder. It hit the ground with a soft thud. At the start of their trip, it would have made a much louder impact upon hitting the ground. She almost wished back the strain of a loaded backpack. Priscilla’s gaze followed hers to the deflated backpack. The girl kept its twin strapped on her back. It was as empty as hers.
“So?” Priss said.
Sarah sighed. “Away. That’s where we’re going.”
“You keep telling me that. But where? Sure, away from Ralph. I know that already, but that can’t be all. You claimed to have a plan.”
Ralph. The weird boy she fell for. Who would have imagined? Not her. Knowing him now, she understood that back then, before things went to worldwide shit, he would have been great for her. But Ralph chose someone else. And she hated to admit it, he chose wisely. Ralph deserved happiness, and her hanging around him would’ve been like an iron cast around his feet. Not fair to him and not fair to her.
“You didn’t have to come along.”
At that, Priss looked away and sighed. “Sure, but what kind of friend would I be if I allowed you to go alone?”
Sarah felt her irritation vanish. She grabbed Priscilla’s hand and squeezed. “I’m sorry.” Sarah studied the sky. The sun hung low on the horizon. At most, there were two hours of daylight left. “I should have tried and made it work. We could have stayed there.”
Priss faced the sun. “We both know you couldn’t. Not with that redhead strutting around.”
“Lauryn is a nice girl.”
“Yeah, and that’s the problem. You would have been miserable for hating her for stealing him away from you.”
Priss’s belly rumbled. The girl stroked her belly and winced. Sarah’s own felt much the same. They had to score some food soon, but more so, they needed shelter for the night. Most zombies were slow and lethargic during the day, with the odd trotters in between, who were faster moving. All manageable to an extent. Though at night, the enhanced ones came out to hunt. Being faster, stronger, and more cunning, they were the real threat. Sarah didn’t really grasp how they came to be. Ralph once told his theory. Zombies who ate a lot of fresh human meat changed. She never witnessed it herself, they just surfaced one night. Sarah didn’t know what to believe. However they came to be, they were bad news. Bad news she could do without. She shuddered. Priss noticed it.
“We need to hide,” Priss said as she hugged herself.
“Yeah…” But where?
They continued on the once well-maintained road. Large trees lined both sides. Far above them, in the distance, white-tipped mountain peaks crested the sky. If only they were nearer, they could find a cave to hide in. But it would take half a day to reach the mountains on feet, time they didn’t have. If they didn’t find shelter soon, they’d have to risk spending the night outside. It wouldn’t be the first time. It was not comfortable, and certainly not safe. If bad luck led an enhanced to stumble on them, it would mean a painful end. If only they had guns, then they stood a fighting chance. Sarah glanced at Priss. She clenched a fist. Not long ago, Priss lost her only rifle while escaping a horde. Dropped it and bolted. Sarah spent her last bullets saving her that day. Not the girl’s fault. Anyone would have panicked. She shouldn’t blame her. Yet, for a small part, she did. It would make her feel so much better to hold a gun again.
They followed a bend in the road. Sarah stopped. Priss collided into her back, making her stumble forward. A zombie with one arm and one leg stood in the middle of the road. Its severed leg and two corpses with large chunks of meat missing lay in front of it. Sarah guessed, from the large cauldron on top of the blackened logs, that zombies must have ambushed the two men while they were making dinner. The zombie hopped in their direction and tripped over its own severed leg. It tried to stand and failed, smacking hard against the road. As she closed in, Sarah unsheathed her bowie knife. She jumped back to avoid the zombie’s single arm swinging at her. As it tumbled down on the road, she rushed in and stabbed its temple, putting an end to it.
“God, what happened to them?” Priss asked.
Sarah inspected the corpses; heads bashed in, limbs torn apart, and half-eaten remains strewn all over the place. And the smell—invasive rot trying to ram itself into her nostrils, and down into her stomach to stir a stampede out. She forced herself not to puke. Priss, losing that battle, staggered to the side, holding her hand to her mouth in a last-ditch effort to keep it all in. The road under all this mess was dark with spilled blood. If these men had been immune like Ralph, Sarah would have found bones only. And if Ralph’s theory held some truth, she would have an enhanced to worry about. Several boot prints led away from either side of the road. These two had company. Sarah noticed the two corpses were barefoot. And there were no pairs of boots nearby, nor any backpacks. Whoever left these two to their fate must have carried it away with them.
Sarah surveyed the area once more. No spent bullet casings. No dispatched zombies. Whoever made this camp fled without a fight. The zombie she killed was also barefoot. Sarah flipped the zombie on its back. She gasped. His stump was bound tightly with a rope. So was his leg just above the cut.
Priss hurried to Sarah’s side. “Are you all right?”
“They left him to die.”
“The zombie?”
Sarah pointed at the tightly bound stumps and the bite marks all over the zombie’s body. “They must have tried saving him, but he turned zombie on them. They fled and left him behind. Why else go to all that trouble to treat him and leave him behind?”
“Dead weight?”
Sarah raised an eyebrow at Priss. The world must be getting at her. Of the two, Priss was supposed to be the more sensitive one.
Sarah inspected the other two bodies. Clean cut marks on them. Sarah’s face paled. Wide-eyed, she looked at Priss. “We have to go. Now.”
“Why?”
Only one creature could have made these blade-like clean cuts. “An enhanced zombi
e did this.”
It was Priss’s turn to turn pale. “What?”
The bush rustled. They both whirled around to spot three slow-moving zombies trudging out from the tree line. More moans reached them from deep inside the forest. Sarah grabbed Priss’s wrist and led her away at a trot. They followed the road, leaving the corpses behind them. After a while, they reached a dirt road branching away from the main road, going into the forest toward the mountains. Sarah stopped. Priss tugged her along to continue going on the main road. Sarah didn’t budge, forcing the shorter girl to a halt. “We take this path.”
“No. If we follow the road, we will reach a town. We’re almost there.”
She was right, it was close, but not close enough for them to reach it before sundown. Choosing the dirt path, she hoped to escape the zombies. Even trotters traveled with the coordination of a toddler, and would be slowed by the rougher terrain.
“There are always small cabins to be found near these paths. At least it must lead somewhere.”
Priss again pulled her toward the road. “We don’t have time to argue. They’ll catch us.”
Times like this, she thought it would have been better if Priss had stayed behind with Ralph. Sarah groaned. No. If she had left without Priss, the little runt would have followed her and gotten herself killed in doing so.
“Priss, please, for once do as I say.”
Priss grimaced and set her trembling eyes on Sarah. She pressed her answer out her teeth. “I always do like you say. For once let’s not.” Priss slid her eyes to the darkening forest. Sarah read the fear clear as day in her expression. They suffered trekking through a forest before. And they had lost people. Chased by both zombies and humans, they had to kill to survive. Sarah didn’t like the idea of wandering around surrounded by the trees, not knowing what was waiting within their shadows. Their other option was to continue out in the open on a road. It was fast traveling, but so was it for the zombies. She wanted the zombies to trip over branches and not sludge on at a steady pace on asphalt that could easily be walked on, with maybe one pothole every ten miles to slow them down.
A chorus of moans rose behind them. Priss yanked again; she was frantic, eyes looking wild. Sarah stuck to her ground. Tears burst from Priss’s eyes as she let go of Sarah. “You go on your stupid path without me.”
“Don’t be such a baby.”
Priss dashed away from her. Sarah balled her fists. Everything inside her screamed for her to follow after Priss. Instead, she faced the forest, inhaled deeply, exhaled slowly, and took the dirt path. After ten steps she heard rapid footfalls behind her. Sarah grinned. “Look who returned.”
A sullen and pale Priss joined her. “We have to run.”
Sarah checked over her shoulders. Trotters were rushing up the path from both sides.
“Guess you get your way again,” Priss said. “Happy?”
Sarah mumbled a curse and started running. Four hundred yards in, the path narrowed from ten feet to six. Sarah cursed louder. So far she had spotted no cabins or any other dwellings. The gap between the zombies grew about a hundred yards. Five tripped and fell behind, while the ten remaining zombies kept the chase at a steady pace. Maybe if they had not argued and kept to the road, they could have evaded these zombies. No, not without risking bumping into something worse. Yet this bet turned out to be a risky one.
“I’m sorry,” Priss said in a tiny voice. “I screwed up. I should have listened to you.”
Sarah squeezed Priss’s shoulder. “Don’t worry about it. We’ll make it out again.”
A tiny genuine smile broke on Priss’s lips. It filled Sarah with a warmth she was not used to. Sometimes the girl annoyed her, but then smiles like this one made her remember why she befriended her in the first place. Sarah pressed on, pulling Priss along. “We have to move faster.”
After a mile, the dirt path narrowed to four feet. The shrubs and branches reached out, leaving narrow gaps for them to pass through. Sarah cursed. She glanced behind her. The zombies were out of sight for now. The forest was growing darker. If they didn’t lose them soon, they’d be sitting ducks at night. The zombies would keep trotting on after them, bumping into trees and falling, without a care for themselves, and eventually, they would catch up with Sarah and Priss. Unlike the zombies, fatigue eventually would set in; it was already knocking at her door. They plodded on, breathing heavily as they went. They couldn’t march like this all night long. And for sure not with a possible enhanced in the neighborhood.
Sarah unsheathed her bowie knife. “Give me your hammer.”
Priss looked up at her with raised eyebrows.
“We don’t have time to argue.”
Priss drew a rust-stained hammer from her belt. “What are you thinking?”
From the way Priss asked the question, Sarah was sure the girl already knew, so she didn’t bother to answer.
“You can’t,” Priss said.
“You know I have to. We can’t outwalk them, and we have not found any shelter.”
“Give me back my hammer. We’ll do this together.”
“Don’t fight me on this.”
Priss pressed her lips into thin line and her eyes trembled in their sockets, her emotions ready to burst out. She bit her underlip and glanced away. “What’s the plan?”
“Keep running and I’ll pick them off one at a time.”
“No heroics.”
Sarah nodded.
“If it goes southward you’ll flee?”
Sarah nodded again with more conviction than she felt. She was near fatigued and intended to spend her remaining energy fighting, leaving little room for a potential escape. All out and no going back. That was the plan.
“Promise me you’ll run.”
“I promise. Now go.”
Sarah stopped and faced the zombies. They were still out of sight. She didn’t hear Priss retreat as she expected. Sarah held her breath. She didn’t have the strength to keep up this brave charade any longer, but to succeed, she couldn’t afford to also have to look after Priss. She needed to be alone for this. Her hands got sweaty. She felt Priss loom behind her. Sarah’s neck stiffened. Then footsteps led away up the ever-narrowing path. Sarah sighed, relieved the girl listened for once. Gripping the knife and hammer tight in her hands, she felt coldness seep into her heart. She was ready. Death or victory. One or the other. In the end, it didn’t matter.
A breeze swayed her shoulder-length hair. She smelled the wet damp of the trees mingled within the rot of decay. Branches snapped. Leaves rustled. She brandished her weapons. Her heart beat hard in anticipation of violence. A zombie shambled around a boulder. Two broke out from the foliage.
Sarah’s lips curled into a sneer. Three she could take down easy. Good odds. She advanced with a steady step but faltered back a second later. Four more emerged into view. Bony fingers gripped her heart and squeezed. Seven. She stepped back when another zombie appeared. Eight. After everything they did to only have lost two on the way.
With Ralph at her side, they would have made short order of these eight. But he wasn’t and never again would be there for her. Sarah steadied herself and charged. She ducked under a swinging arm. Sarah whirled around and stuck her knife hard into the back of the zombie’s head. The zombie dropped. She jumped over it. The zombie chasing her tripped and fell. She slammed the hammer down twice, crushing the zombie’s skull. She quickly retreated. Six to go. Sarah’s chest heaved as she gulped in air to feed her burning muscles. Downing the two took its toll. She needed a breather for her next attack if she wanted to survive. They were close on her heels. Sarah stumbled over a branch. She managed to stay up and sidestep a thick, hollow tree. A zombie made a grab for her. She twisted aside and pushed her knife hard under the zombie’s chin. It went down. Five to go. She evaded a charge. Ducked under a swing. Skipped away from a zombie closing in. Her hammer went down and with it a zombie. Four left.
Acid went through her muscles. Every effort hurt. She backed away from the remai
ning zombies. Her back hit a tree. Unperturbed by their fallen comrades or any physical discomfort, the zombies pressed on. Sarah dropped down and rolled away. She sprung up and slammed her knife with a hard thud through a zombie’s eye. She raised her hammer to crush its skull. The zombie flayed and hit her hand, sending her hammer twirling in the air. The zombie crumpled down. Sarah didn’t let go of her knife, which remained stuck into the zombie’s skull. She landed on her knees, gripped the knife handle with two hands, and yanked it free. As she rose, the remaining three zombies tackled her to the ground. In their hunger to get the first bite in, they got entangled fighting each other. She wriggled away. Sarah held her knife out to defend herself, knowing it was useless if she didn’t get up fast. The zombies freed themselves and advanced on her in a semicircle. She pushed herself back from them, dropped on all fours, and started crawling.
“Fuck,” she snarled as she noticed the too-wide tree blocking her way. Sarah crawled up against the tree. No way she’d climb up in time. She whirled around, slashing at the zombie drawing near her. Cut off, she stood little chance against three zombies. The only thing left for her was to make them pay dearly for her life.
Metal gleamed in the air and a hatchet buried deep into the skull of the zombie facing her. A concrete brick hit the second zombie, smashing its skull. The last remaining zombie grabbed her. Sarah struggled her knife into its nose, piercing its brain. The zombie dropped at her feet, revealing Priss holding her hammer in one hand and a brick in the other.
“I told you to run.”
A man’s loud laugh startled Sarah. A six-foot muscular old man, with dirt-caked face, wearing only shorts, stood close to her left with a hatchet in his hand. He smiled as wild as the fuzzy gray hair covering his head like a bad idea of a wig. He waved at her. “Hi, little miss,” he said in a deep voice that didn’t mesh with his wacky appearance.
CHAPTER TWO
Sarah eyed the man and then Priss. They all rested inside a tiny cabin built against a large cracked boulder in the middle of the forest. The man had led them to it, gesturing the way, never talking. Who is he? What is he doing there? And most importantly, is he safe? He seemed harmless now, but she witnessed him cleave a zombie’s head with a hatchet, and noticed the gleam in his eyes that betrayed a certain hardness.