Beginning of the New Beginning, Vol 1

by Taylor, W. Joe

  Beginning of the New Beginning

  By W. Joe Taylor

  Contents

  Chapter One. Abilene

  Chapter 2. San Angelo

  Chapter 3. Road to Pensacola

  Chapter 4. Pensacola

  Chapter 5. The Road to Ft Wayne

  Chapter 6. Ft Wayne

  Chapter One. Abilene

  It was an early September Saturday that started out like many others. He got up at five am, same as he did any other day of the week, but Saturdays were his fishing day, so he’d loaded up his kayak and gear the night before, and he was on the water before sunrise. Today was unusual for other reasons though. He didn’t feel exceptionally well. He was achy in his back muscles, and his neck was really stiff, but that wasn’t going to stop him from fishing—as the old saying goes: “A bad day fishing beats a good day at work.” The water was smooth as glass, and there was no breeze. The weatherman had predicted that it would be unusually warm for this time of year, but what the hell did they know anyway? Just after sunrise, he also noticed that the sky looked different today. There were an unusual number of jet trails across the sky. He pondered on them, wondering if the reason was because the upper atmosphere was unusually calm too or if there simply was more air traffic than usual.

  By nine am, he was loaded back up and headed home. He’d had a good day of fishing, but he wasn’t bringing anything home. He always liked to catch and release, as he just enjoyed the sport as well as the peace and quiet. He told himself the fish would be there later if there was ever a need in a world-altering event, like the power grid going down or a zombie apocalypse. His wife (at first) would chuckle when he would mention “when the zombies come” as a joke to cover some of his crazy ideas. Now, after several years, she would just roll her eyes and say, “Uh-huh.”

  The small lake he fished on was less than a mile from the house, down a tree-lined side street that was seldom traveled unless you lived in that particular neighborhood. Travel time from the house to the lake was less than five minutes. He lived in a small suburban neighborhood with less than one hundred houses in total. Driving through the neighborhood, things seemed unusually quiet, but he didn’t really take notice. No lawn mowers, no kids playing b-ball just around the corner. Those little shits were always getting almost run over. His wife would be up soon, and they would go about the other things they had planned for the weekend.

  “Honey, I’m home!” It was a thing he and his wife always did as a joke, like they were in a fifties sitcom. They both had their own careers: she was a paralegal, and he was an aircraft mechanic for the United States Air Force. But today there was no response from her, at least not the one he expected, nor would there ever be again. As he walked into his house, his thoughts were abruptly interrupted by a sound that was unfamiliar to him, not because he’d never heard it before, but because the only time he had was in movies or on TV. It was a sound that he’d never expected to hear in real life, a sound that meant the world would never be the same again. He heard a strange moaning, gurgling sound coming from the bedroom.

  “Is she masturbating again? That bitch!” he muttered to himself, but it was a very sweet yet pungent smell mixed with a faint hint of shit that gave him pause now that he was close to the bedroom door.

  Damn, she really needs to wash her vag, he thought. “Honey? You ok in there? Can I get you anything, like some lube?” He heard her bump into the door. Then again. And again.

  “Shit, this can’t be good. BABE! Are you ok? Say something before I kick this damn door open.”

  “ARGHRGHRGHRGHRGHRGHRGHRH” was all she said.

  Goddamn it, he thought. He looked to his right and saw the back door. It was one foot to the right from the bedroom door. Two of the bedroom windows looked out onto the back porch, as did two of the living room windows, forming the long side of an “L.” He opened the back door and the screen door he’d installed four years ago so they could enjoy the fresh air on a cool spring or fall day. Summers in Texas were way too hot for that, like today, which was going to be a scorcher. Next he shoved the bedroom door open and coughed and gagged at the smell.

  “Great, it will take weeks to get that smell out.”

  The door shoved her back far enough for him to open it all the way and still be out of arm’s reach. He sidestepped to the back door and ran out into the yard. She stepped from the bedroom into the space between the kitchen to her right and the living room to her left of their open floorplan home. He turned around to see her looking for him. He could almost see the confusion on the side of her face that was visible to him. She must have thought he’d vanished into thin air—if she could have cohesive thoughts anymore. She stood there with cloudy eyes and her mouth hanging open, and a little bit of drool was making a break for it from the corner of her mouth. That was so unlike her to mock those less fortunate than her. She had spent hours volunteering at the state assisted living center, helping the mentally challenged.

  “Babe! Over here!” She turned and made a charge for him as fast as her stiff legs would go. She got to the end of the porch, and the eight-inch drop-off to the grass was enough for her to lose her balance and fall over. He waited for her to get back up and continue her journey. He led her towards the back of the yard, where his BBQ smoker was set up. It had a nice stone border around it that they had laid a few years ago, and he knew that would also trip her.

  As soon as she fell for the second time, he sprinted into the house and back into the bedroom. He jumped on the middle of the bed and rolled across it. His heart raced as he grabbed his .45 semi-auto pistol kept in the nightstand and hurried to the back door. He had outfitted the pistol with a popular brand laser sight a few years ago, and he kept it loaded with hollow-point home defense rounds. His thinking at the time had been that should he ever actually need the gun, he would have a greater chance of hitting his target with the laser sight. He’d had no way of knowing then just how much benefit it would provide him in the future.

  Back outside, he saw his wife had tripped onto the porch and was getting back up. “I love you, honey. See you on the other side when I get there.” With a tear in his eye and shaky hands, he put a hollow-point into the top of her head.

  He went back into the house to call 911 and let them know what he had just done. He sat on the couch as a few tears rolled down his cheek, and he turned on the TV. He got a busy signal from emergency services, so he tried calling the police station directly with the same result. His heart rate began to slow as the adrenaline metabolized out of his system, and he started to pay attention to what was on TV. He’d flipped it to the national news and saw that he wasn’t going mad. He felt relieved that he hadn’t just killed his wife for no reason. It was happening in LA, New York, Seattle, Miami, and every other town in between.

  The station showed horrific live footage of people being torn to shreds by an angry crowd. Those in the mob were cannibalizing people, literally eating them. The pretty redheaded reporter at the scene made the mistake of trying to interview a zombie. She told the viewers she was going to find out if this was a religious experience, and she was brave, though you could see the fear in her eyes. A minute later, the camera was knocked around and pointed down as the camera man tried to help her. Screams of terror and pain filled the soundwaves. After the cameraman was also bitten on the forearm, he took off running. The live feed continued to show the reporter’s small intestines being ripped from her torso. Bill was pretty sure he saw her liver and maybe a kidney too.

  He sat dumbfounded, wondering why the station hadn’t switched back to the studio reporters. He changed channels, and they were telling people to stay inside, that authorities would notify everyone
when they had established safe zones. There had been no word from the White House yet.

  The goddamned apocalypse was really happening. He knew that the power wasn’t going to go out instantly in the next few minutes, because that was not really how this worked. It might in a few select areas if someone crashed into a telephone pole, but in reality, it would take a few weeks for the power grid to degrade with no one maintaining it. Apparently, there was something in the water, or it was a universal download from aliens, the talking heads didn’t know what, but folks all over the planet had suddenly turned into zombies—and not tall mixed drinks consisting of several kinds of rum, liqueur, and fruit juice. News stations all over the world were reporting that what he’d just experience was everywhere, and a lot of people hadn’t fared nearly as well as he had. They were destined to be stuck in a zombie’s underwear in a couple of days after the zombie shit its pants. The news also reported that almost everyone they’d talked to who was still alive had flu-like symptoms today.

  Bill watched the news for a while. Then he got up, took some ibuprofen, walked out to the shed, took out a shovel, and started digging next to the redbud tree that she loved. They had planted it two years ago to honor her uncle, who was an avid gardener, after he’d passed away. Now it would forever mark her final resting place.

  Three hours and several popped blisters later, he called his daughters in Florida. Both were in college and had gotten accepted to good schools for their profession of choice.

  “Sam, are you ok?”

  “Daddy! I’m so scared, and I don’t feel well. What is going on?”

  “Well, baby, it’s the end of the world. Where is your sister? Where’s Sally?” Bill asked.

  “She and her girlfriend are here with me.”

  “Ok, don’t leave, and do not let them leave. Y’all will die if you leave to go anywhere, Leah included. I know she wants to go home and check on her parents, but you cannot let her leave. Close all the blinds, curtains, or whatever window coverings you have. Do not look outside. Do not let the thrillers see you.”

  “Thrillers? What the hell are you talking about?”

  “You know, like the music video from the eighties. Thriller! I figured it sounded better than ‘zombie’ or any other stupid thing people call them in Hollywood. It almost makes it fun.”

  Sam groaned. “Great, the one thing that hasn’t stopped at the end of the world is Dad jokes. And you don’t have to worry about them going anywhere. I think we all came down with a cold or something. They don’t feel good either.”

  “Well, jokes are how I got through a lot of tough times in my life. That sucks y’all don’t feel well. I don’t feel so great either. Drink plenty of water and take some vitamin C. That will help. Anyhoo, like I was saying, stay inside, be quiet, and don’t open the door if something is bumping against it repeatedly. I’ve got to gather a few things here, and then I’ll be at your house in…hopefully about sixteen hours. I’m going to get your brother if I can. I don’t know. I haven’t called him yet. Then I’ll make my way down there. You know it’s about thirteen hours on a good day, so God only know what it’s going to be like now. Fill the bathtubs and every container you have with water in case the water goes out.”

  “Then what? Are we going back to your house? What about Papaw and Memaw? How long do you think the power will stay on?”

  “No, not my house. We’re going to Grampa Maxwell’s house. It’s isolated. The valley he lives in is fairly defensible, and it rains a lot. That’s good for fresh water and growing food. Plus, you know Grandma and Grandpa Livingston will be at the old homestead on the mountain if they can get out of the city. We can check on all your mom’s side of the family when I get there. I’m afraid that if you leave, I won’t be able to find you. One thing you need to understand is that bad people are going to seize this opportunity to do bad things. Mostly just looting and stealing, petty crimes at first, but as they get more brazen and they learn that there are no consequences to their actions, they will start doing way worse things. Call your people and tell them the same things I told you. Do not have them come to the house. It will draw attention and attract the thrillers. I know this sounds mean, but if they make it to tomorrow, we will go get them and bring them with us. The power should stay on for a few weeks, I’m guessing. Call me if shit starts going sideways. I love you.”

  “I love you too, Daddy. Please be safe. And hurry.”

  “I will baby. Talk to you soon.”

  Next, Bill called his son, who was also at college, an hour and half away, in central Texas. No answer. Bill left a message:

  “Goddamn it, Terry, call me as soon as you get this. Shit has hit the fan, and I’m coming to pick your ass up.”

  Then he texted his son the exact same thing—eighteen times—in hopes that if Terry was sleeping it would wake him up. Then he tried to call his mom, but there was no answer there either.

  “Mom, if you get this, please call me back. If I don’t hear from you in forty-eight hours, I’ll have to assume the worst. I love you, and tell everyone I love them and will be up that way in about a week.”

  He only hoped it would be a week, but his gut was telling him otherwise. Then he called his dad, Maxwell, to see if he’d survived and what he was planning at this time.

  “It’s good to hear your voice, son.”

  “Thanks, Dad. You holding up ok?”

  “Well, yea, not a lot around here to bother me. So what do you think caused this? Channel Six news anchor said it was a terrorist attack of some sort, but I think that is a line of bullshit. They don’t know anything. Your sister is here with most of her family. I guess she locked her husband in the bathroom somehow. She said he became one of them.”

  “I think you’re right. There is no telling what caused it, and we may never find out. From what I gather from the news, only like ten or fifteen percent of people have not died and reanimated or been eaten alive. Good. Tell sis I love her, and teach her and the kids how to shoot. They’re going to need it from now on. Even if my plan works, the world will never be the same.”

  After a few minutes of going over the details of Bill’s plan, Maxwell said, “Sounds good on paper. You just make sure your ass shows up.”

  “Yup, you got it. I just have to go get the kids first.”

  Bill’s next phone calls were to his closest friends.

  “DUUUDE! You’re alive!”

  “Q, man, you guys all right?”

  “Yea, we good, just a little under the weather. So, what’s the plan?”

  Bill and Q had had many long conversations over many beers about what they would do if the TEOTWAWKI went down. All hypothetical of course.

  “Fucking shit, man, the wife turned before I got back from fishing. I just buried her in the back yard. I can’t get ahold of Terry, but I’m headed down there anyway ASAP. I don’t feel so hot either, but I’m not letting it stop me. Then I’m going to get the girls, and from there, we’re making a break for my dad’s place up in Washington. Care to join us?”

  “Oh, man, she turned, huh?”

  “Yea.”

  “I’m sorry to hear that. Fuck yea, we want to join. You know were not sticking around here. I’d like to tag along till we get to Wisconsin and see what’s going down at my folks’ place. Buuuuut I can’t seem to get ahold of anyone.”

  “Bro, sorry to hear that. Definitely keep trying. When y’all are ready to roll out, let me know. I’ll be loaded up. Meet me here. Just pull up. Don’t get out or anything. I’ll be waiting in my 4Runner, and we’ll go from there.”

  Bill hung up and then immediately made another call.

  “Billay!”

  “Cootch!” (That is what he had been called his whole adult life. It was the short version of something Polish that represented his last name.)

  “Man, am I glad to hear your voice. How’s things in the great white north?”

  “So far so good. Can’t get out of the house though. Place is surrounded by these fucking sti
nky ass crazy bastards. And the kids are sick, so we couldn’t leave today if we wanted to. That makes it a good day for some day drinking though. How are you guys down there?”

  “Dude, that fucking blows. The wife is dead. She tried to eat me. Apparently, I didn’t make breakfast soon enough this morning. How are you guys on food and water?”

  “Oh man, I’m sorry. We should be fine for a while, till this thing blows over.”

  “How safe are y’all, as in, are the windows boarded up? Is Tess ok?”

  “A couple of cars crashed right in front of my house, and one of them is on its side, pushed up against the front door. So even if I wanted to, we can’t get out that way until the tow truck comes. The backyard is full of stank asses. Apparently, one of the kids left the side gate open. I was able to board up the downstairs windows before any of them things busted in. Yea, she’s fine, just spazzing out ’cause we’re trapped and the kids might need a doctor.”

  “Uuhh, yea, about that. You haven’t seen the news, have you?”

  “The fuck is wrong with you? Did you hit your head again? Like I was saying, these fucking guys are all over my yard, and they don’t take no for an answer. There seems to be more and more showing up all the time.”

  “Thrillers.”

  “What?”

  “I call them thrillers. It’s more fun than zombies. Kind of makes it not real and easier to kill them. Anyway, the sound of the crash has attracted them to your house. The more noise y’all make, the more will show up, and they’ll be more aggravated.”

  “Yea, that checks with what I see going on here. Listen, I need to call 911 again and see if anybody answers.”

  “Cootch, listen, man, this is the real deal. The ZomPoc has started. I’m about to literally drive all over God’s green earth to get my kids, and then to Washington State. I know a place that will be safe after we secure it. Q and D are following me until they get to Q’s folks, and then we will see what they do from there. We will be in your neighborhood in a few days. We can get y’all out of there, no worries. Can you guys hang on till then?”