Beginning of the New Beginning, Vol 1

by Taylor, W. Joe

  When they walked through the front door, Bill was impressed; the apartment was simple yet elegant, clean and organized. He could tell Charity came from old money yet was educated and had a well-paying job herself. The place was furnished with ornate dining room table and chairs, leather sofa, and a sleigh bed in the master bedroom. The second bedroom housed a treadmill and a small collection of free weights in one corner. A yoga mat had been laid out in front of a TV along the other wall. Bill could tell that Charity was the type of person who liked to stay in shape without the pomp and circumstance of a gym membership. From her physique, he knew she was disciplined enough to work out at home. That also meant she was self-motivated and not lazy.

  "I thought John lived with you."

  "What? Why would you say that?”

  "The guy who tried to eat your face off earlier. I thought, I just figured y’all cohabited. The way you spoke of him and your body language at the time suggested you were very close to him. Clearly, a man does not live here."

  "Well, we dated for over two years. He would stay on weekends and occasionally weekdays, but he still had his own place."

  "Oh, sounds like a swell guy. A win-win for him. Have a hot girlfriend and still have your own place to do whatever."

  "What are you implying? John was a great guy and faithful."

  "Sorry, I didn't mean that. Y’all had been dating for years and hadn’t moved in together. Why not? That’s what people do in their late twenties, early thirties. Sounds like he had commitment issues."

  "Ok. Yes, he did, but it wasn’t that exactly.”

  “What was it, then? Look, I don’t mean to pry, but if we’re going to be traveling together for the fifteen hundred miles, I kind of would like to know what I’m getting into here. Are you the crazy one, or was it him?”

  “Ok, fine, but don't laugh. Like I said, he was a great guy. Sexy, smart, sweet. Everything a girl wants, so I guess I overlooked his main issue. Failure to launch."

  "Wait. Hold the motherfucking phone. He still lived at home? Like with mommy and daddy? Oh, that is rich."

  "Yea. So anyway, we should probably get a move on."

  "You’re right. We have a long way to go."

  While this conversation was taking place, Charity pulled out from under her bed a shotgun, a 9mm handgun, an AR15, and a compound bow. Her father was also an avid bow hunter and had taught Charity how to shoot one. She demonstrated her skill by lining up on a thriller through the bedroom window and across the parking lot. At fifty yards out, her shot was dead on between the eyes.

  “Fucking right on, doggie! You. Are. A. Badass! I’m glad you’re on our team,” Bill said with a shit-eating grin on his face.

  “Thanks.”

  It was late in the afternoon, and they had about an hour of daylight left. They had all Charity’s things that she wanted to keep in her car, along with the stuff they’d grabbed from Robert’s house, and they were finally headed south down the highway. The first hour of the trip was uneventful, with Bill in the lead. He’d suggested that he go first since he had a big steel aftermarket bumper on his 4Runner that he could use to push thrillers out of the way should the need arise. Charity was in the middle, with Q and D bringing up the rear. The first town they came to that had a population bigger than a Mormon family was choked full of thrillers meandering about on the main drag, which also happened to be the way they needed to go.

  “What the hell?” Bill asked Q over the CB.

  “I don’t know, man. Maybe the town was having some kind of festival or something. You know, like, ‘lonely farmers meet your neighbor’s sister if you’re tired of your own’ kind of thing.”

  “HAHAHAHAHA! Awesome. Let’s take this slowly and hope for the best.”

  Things were going fine at first as they wove between meat sacks, clipping a few with the bumper here and there. The convoy was almost to the other side of town when the road became super congested with thrillers. There was an open field to the left where clearly the festival had been taking place. It looked like a small-time carnival and swap meet rolled into one. There were tents set up by vendors, a few rides for the kids, and, oddly enough, still a couple of chickens running around that hadn’t been eaten yet.

  Bill stopped so he and Q could shift into four-wheel to get the extra traction he figured they were going to need. The sound of the vehicles attracted the attention of every one of the thrillers. He got only forty feet into the horde when, in his side-view mirror, he noticed Charity’s car fall back and get completely surrounded. Q was already close to her rear end with his truck, so he just started pushing her along till she was within a few feet of Bill’s trailer. Thrillers were falling off the hood and being pushed under her car. A couple of thrillers were squished in half between Q’s truck and her bumper, and then by her trunk after the bumper failed. One was on the roof, pounding on it with his fists.

  They managed to stay close like that till they got to a bridge that crossed over a section of the Brazos River and into the other side of town. The herd hadn’t figured out that they could go that way, and this side of town was pretty empty, like the last few towns they’d passed through. Once they got clear of the herd, Q radioed Bill that they needed to pull over. As soon as they stopped, D jumped out and started shooting at the thrillers still attached to Charity’s car.

  Bill got out and walked back to her car when he noticed that she hadn’t moved from the driver seat. “You ok?”

  “NO, I’M NOT OK!”

  “WHOA! Slow your roll, Chica. Why are you yelling at me?”

  “Sorry. I’m just so scared and freaked out right now.”

  “From the looks of your car, I don’t blame you, to be honest.”

  Bill looked over her car and noticed that both of the back doors and passenger-side windows were smashed in, and blood was smeared all over her car. Apparently, an economy-size car was not suited for driving though hordes of zombies.

  “I have a suggestion,” Bill said. “Why don’t we put all your stuff in the back of my car and you ride with me? It will be a lot safer ride, and the whole safety-in-numbers thing.”

  “Ye…ya…yea, th-that sounds great.”

  Fifteen minutes later, the convoy, minus one compact car, was headed south again. Conversation was light in the lead vehicle, as they talked about families and things they were going to miss. Neither of them wanted to talk about the seriousness of the world and kept it simple. Bill knew they were just over halfway to Terry’s dorm room, and he was nervous about what they would find when they got there. The next few Podunk towns went by in a blur, but everyone knew when they had arrived at their first official destination.

  Chapter 2. San Angelo

  In San Angelo, Texas, the population was not large compared to a big city, but there had been about two hundred thousand people living there before the ZomPoc started. Since it was estimated that only about ten percent of Homo sapiens remained breathing, that meant there was a “metric shit-ton” of thrillers to contend with.

  As they rounded the corner and crested the small hill on the edge of town, the lights were still on, as the power hadn’t gone out yet. Just a few telephone poles had been knocked down by people who’d suddenly turned into thrillers, creating a few dark spots on the landscape. Rolling down the highway through the center of town, you could see fires burning sporadically here and there against the inky-dark, moonless night. From the fires and the death, there was a slight aroma in the air that, while not unpleasant, wasn’t natural.

  “There is a National Guard outpost up here on the right. I want to stop in and see if anyone is there or if anything is left behind we might be able to use if it’s abandoned.”

  “You know that stealing government property is a federal offense, right?” Q replied. “We’re both retired, so we’ll be tried as civilians, but you still fall under the UCMJ and will be making big rocks into small rocks,” he finished just as they were pulling into the parking lot.

  “True, but in case you haven’t
noticed in the last twelve hours, there isn’t any semblance of government left behind. Besides, it’s not like we’re going to help ourselves to anything if anyone is here. If this really is the end of the world, we will see inside. If there is any government left in charge, the Guard would have been activated.”

  “You are right about that,” Q said.

  They parked in such a fashion that they would be able to make a quick escape if needed.

  “Y’all wait here. I’ll take Charity around to check the outside and have a look-see,” Bill said.

  They did a quick perimeter sweep and found nothing on the outside to be concerned about.

  “It’s quiet, too quiet,” Bill joked.

  “That’s not really funny,” Charity said.

  “You’re right. Let’s head inside and see what’s up.”

  The doors were unlocked, which was a small surprise to Bill because he didn’t know if it had been a duty weekend for this detachment or if they’d even had time to be called up when the shit had gone down this morning. Inside, it was even quieter than outside, and Bill had to admit to himself it was pretty creepy. They were not met with the smell of death and decay, so they counted themselves lucky for that.

  “HELLO!” Bill hollered out. “Is anyone here?”

  Still no answer. The two of them started walking from room to room to make sure they got no surprises, and they made mental notes of anything they might need later. In the back was a door that had been left open a crack. Bill opened it the rest of the way and called out again, only to receive silence in return.

  “Well, I found what I wanted,” Bill stated flatly.

  “Looks like everyone left in a hurry.”

  “No shit. This breaks every protocol the Army has. You will never find an unlocked, unguarded armory ever. Like ever in forever. Let’s finish looking around and come back.”

  Bill used a trash can to block open the door; he didn’t want a gust of wind to close it. He wouldn’t let this find get away so easily. At the end of the hallway was a door leading out to the fenced-in yard where all the big trucks and heavy equipment were stored. Bill could tell that a few HMMWVs and HEMTTs were missing. That told him that the Guard had been activated and had left in a big hurry—or that someone with keys to the building had already done what he was about to do. He was beginning to question if they should take anything from the armory, and decided it was now or never.

  “Too bad we can’t take some of these. It would make driving through and over thrillers a whole lot easier,” Bill said dreamily. Satisfied that nothing was going to sneak up on their asses, they headed back to the front door to get a site rep from Q and D. He needed to find out if anyone spotted them, and fill them in on the amazing find inside.

  Back in the armory again, they found a cart and loaded it up with as much 5.56 ammo it would carry. Charity pushed it out for the other three to load into Q’s truck. Bill loaded a second cart, and Charity pushed that one out also. The first one was empty now, so Charity pushed it back to where Bill had pulled down three dozen M4 carbines equipped with red dot sight technology and suppressors. He also grabbed three dozen tactical helmets with built-in headsets and matching NVGs. Also in the pile were four .308 sniper rifles. D was a crack shot, and Bill hoped she would teach a few other people. He wanted to have full-coverage eye-in-the-sky or in hiding should the need arise. He knew the helmets and radios would be great assets to have when they were working as teams in the near future.

  When the last two carts were pushed out to be loaded, Q about shit his pants when he saw the helmets and NVGs. “You motherfucker, do you have any idea how much jail time we’re doing if we get caught?”

  “Yea, and when have you ever known the Army to leave in such a hurry that the armory was left open and unguarded? From the looks of things, we weren’t the first ones to be here. I think what happened was some Guardsmen realized what was going down and did the same thing, only hours ago. In fact, there was an equipment room with some surveillance recorders in there. If you want, we can look back at the footage just to see if I’m right.”

  “No, it’s too late for that now, and I really want to get out of here. I’m pretty sure you’re right, because we’ve been here for thirty minutes now and there hasn’t been hide nor hair of anyone.”

  Everything was loaded up, everyone was equipped with fancy helmets, and they got back on the road to the university. Once off the main drag, they meandered from one side road to another, hoping to avoid gathering a following of adoring fans. When they pulled up to the university, all seemed well. Bill tried calling Terry again, but there was still no answer.

  “All right, gang, here’s the situation. We have to go in and see if he is alive and just lost his phone, or if he became thriller chow. The problem is, I have no idea which room is his. Any suggestions?”

  “We go into the main lobby and see if his name is on a mailbox or something,” D suggested.

  “Duh, that is so simple it’s brilliant. Thanks, D,” Bill said. “Here is what I think. Q, you and I go in and have a little look-see. D, Andre, and Charity guard the vehicles, one in front, one in back, and one in the middle, maintaining visual contact with each other at all times. Any objections?”

  After a round of nos, it was set. Bill grabbed a backpack out of the back seat of his ride, and Q gave him a funny look.

  “What do you have in there?”

  “A few bottles of water and some jerky and granola bars, as well as some spare ammo and some other knickknacks that might come in handy.”

  “You really think that is necessary? I mean, were going in to get the boy, and then we out.”

  “Yea, I do. You never can be too careful these days. If we get separated or stranded, I want to be energized and hydrated. Come on, man, all those years we spent in the desert and you want to question hydration now?”

  “HAHAHA! Ok, you got me. Let’s do this.”

  Bill and Q, both armed with ARs and pistols, and with NVGs on their helmets, started walking away when they heard a THWACK. Spinning towards the sound with weapons at the ready, they both spotted a thriller falling over sideways with an arrow clean through its head from one temple to the other. Turning further, they both saw a shit-eating grin on Charity’s face as she said, “Y’all sure you don’t want me to tag along?”

  “Nope,” Q replied. “I need you here to help protect my family. I’m just glad you’re on our side.”

  Bill furthered the thought with “Yea, no shit, huh? Could you imagine if thrillers could shoot a bow like that? We would really be up shit creek!” And with that, they snuck up the sidewalk to the main entrance of the dorm building.

  Just inside the doors, the scene looked like something straight out of a horror movie. The steps leading up to the entrance were covered in books, backpacks, glass, general debris, and blood and other bodily fluids. The more they looked, the more they noticed: hair, bones, stringy sinew, and bits of flesh all starting to decay, since it had been ten hours since ZomPoc had started.

  Their footsteps placed carefully so as to not roll an ankle, they made their way into the main lobby. As the smell was mostly contained within the walls that surrounded them, it quickly became unbearable. It was a combination of garbage dumpsters behind a fast-food restaurant, rotted meat, baby diarrhea, and fermented cabbage. Bile rose up Bill’s esophagus and erupted suddenly into projectile vomit. The first streams of hot liquid landed thirty feet away and mixed with the other brown fluids already there. He quickly turned away from the main hallway and aimed for a terra cotta pot that housed a fake palm tree. He sprayed the wall, making the end point the pot. With the smell of fresh vomit in the air, Q could no longer hold back and vomited in the other direction, hoping that they would not have to walk through it on the way back out.

  “Oh my God! My stomach hurts from the contractions,” Bill gasped between dry heaves.

  “Yea, my nose is burning. Let’s keep moving,” Q replied as he pressed the side of one nostril closed wit
h a finger and blew out the other one. They walked around the check-in desk, and on the floor, they found a three-ring binder with room and name listings.

  “Bad ass. He’s in room 415, fourth floor.”

  “Wonder where who—or what—created this chaos is currently located.”

  “I have no fucking clue. Let’s hope we don’t run into them,” Bill replied.

  They proceeded down the hallway and followed the signs that pointed to the elevator. When they got there, Bill said “Here’s what I think. We locate the stairs and then come back. I want to send the empty elevator to the fourth floor. It will distract any thrillers that might be roaming the hall.”

  “I like that idea, but what if it draws them from the other end and we end up between two groups of them?”

  “No worries. The stairwell door should have a window. If not, I have a small signal mirror in my bag. If we can open the door enough to see without attracting them, we’ll be good.”

  “IF.”

  “Yea, yea, it’s what I got right now.”

  “Cool, let’s do this.”

  The stairwell was at the end of the hallway about 150 feet away from the elevator bank.

  “At least we don’t have to worry about being stuck in between them,” Q said, sounding relieved.

  “Sweet. You wait here, and I’ll be right back,” Bill called out over shoulder as he walked away.

  Halfway back to the elevator, a thriller caught him by surprise. It came out of a short offshoot hall and grabbed his right arm above the elbow. Bill sucked in air and went rigid for a moment while he analyzed the situation. The thriller’s face was getting closer to his shoulder, so he brought the butt of his rifle up and smashed it into the thing’s temple. Dazed but not done, the thriller redoubled its efforts greedily. Bill was out of his initial shock at this point and swung harder with rifle, using his left arm, and managed to get the thriller to stagger back. It still had a hold of his arm, and he could feel the cold fingers digging into his flesh through his shirt. At least it was arm’s length away at this point, so he was able to grab his knife from his left thigh sheath, letting his AR dangle from its harness. As the thriller pushed its face toward Bill’s shoulder for the third time, he drove the knife into its temple, which had been softened by the butt of his rifle. Its fingers released immediately, and it fell away.