Slow Burn: A Zombie Novel

by Mike Fosen

  “We’ve gotta stretch our food supply as far as possible, Mike,” Stephen confided one night. “We’ve got no idea how long this whole mess may last.”

  Pizza parties consisting of frozen pizzas were had at night to pass the time, and Dan taught everyone several new card games. Our group was getting along surprisingly well considering that we were thrown together under such trying circumstances. We also spent a lot of time watching the broadcasts from the safe zone. They seemed to be making progress and were becoming better organized. Captain Marshall even made a second trip back with additional instructions and a report that the military was working on larger, more secure safe zones around the country. He insisted, however, that these smaller safe zones were of utmost importance to the government. In his daily broadcasts, Troy Lundell passed along information that he was getting from the Associated Press wire, and most of it was grim. All of the larger cities were considered dead zones, and several reports were coming in of major military instillations being abandoned or overrun. And the worst news of all was that the infection had gone global, and no help was likely coming from the rest of the world. He also mentioned the increase in the number of infected they were seeing and stressed the importance of survivors reaching the safe zone soon, if possible. Dan’s communications with Phil brought only more grim tales of desperation.

  After a group meeting on the fifth day of the outbreak, it was decided by all that we would make our planned supply raid in the morning. Once we secured the proper vehicles and supplies, we would decide as a group the best course of action. Everyone was a bit apprehensive about what we would find out there in the morning, and we tried to relax by playing cards and watching a movie as a group. Stephen’s place had provided a bit of a sanctuary the last couple days, but we all knew that it wouldn’t last. Tomorrow we would go out and face the enemy in the field for the first time since the outbreak, and I wondered how we would do. Finally I got sleepy and went over the plans with everyone one last time. Satisfied with their answers, I hit the sack, anxious to kick some zombie ass in the morning.

  18

  August 31

  Day 6

  Unable to go back to sleep after my morning bathroom ritual, I trudged over to Stephen’s weight pile, and after an hour or so, I had my workout completed in plenty of time for our 0800 launch time. Breakfast today consisted of cold cereal and milk but there were at least bananas to cut up in the Frosted Flakes. I shared the breakfast table with Dan, who mentioned that last night he had heard a large firefight to the north, maybe a few miles out. Sounded to him like several guys with assault style rifles really going to town for a good 15-20 minutes, and he again reminded me to be careful when on our raid today.

  I looked outside; the sky was heavily overcast and it was a bit cooler outside. Stephen’s American flag snapped in the westward wind. Paul was already standing in the driveway waiting, grim faced and a little scared looking, dressed in his Eddie Bauer yuppie hiking gear and backpack, when I exited the house.

  At least he thought to bring a gun.

  He white knuckle clutched the 30/30 Marlin and had the 686 Smith & Wesson revolver in a black nylon holster Stephen had given him.

  Stephen finally emerged from the basement looking like he was dressed for a military inspection. I gave him a slight smirk and shook my head as he walked by. He was wearing a clean and pressed set of military ACUs, along with a chest rig containing three extra 30-round magazines for his AR-15. His Beretta M9 rested in a thigh holster and a double magazine pouch was also on his belt. A matching ACU go bag and a pair of ballistic Oakley glasses completed the look.

  “What the fuck are you looking at?” Stephen asked and then laughed before adding, “Don’t be a hater, I make this look good!”

  While Mattie, Jamere and Chris gathered their gear for our little raid, I brought Paul inside and again went over our operational plans. I would take Jamere and Mattie on a run to the Joliet Police Department’s west side substation. Once there, we would check for any survivors, take what we could as far as equipment and possibly the armored “Bearcat” A.P.V or the larger S.W.A.T truck. If acquiring the trucks was not feasible, our Plan B was to try for a short bus located at the nearby Plainfield South High School. While we were checking those locations, Stephen, Chris and Paul would hit the Walgreens pharmacy for medical supplies for the group as a whole and mainly for the prescription asthma medication for Paul’s daughter. Their secondary target was the Aldi's grocery store located just to the north of Walgreens. Jamere and Mattie passed us on their way out the door, and I told them I would be out in a minute.

  After giving Paul a reassuring pat on the back and making a quick check of my own gear, I walked out to the landscaping truck and noticed my crew for today’s raid had already loaded up and Jamere sat behind the wheel. We made quite a motley crew when you sat back and took a look. Jamere was a short, slim, very athletic black man who could run fast as hell and moved even faster with the ladies. Always known to have juggled several relationships at once, he seemed to actually love the inevitable drama whenever he eventually got caught. In fact, as I approached the truck, it appeared he was trying his best at making moves on Mattie right now. She was blushing and giggling softly at some joke Jamere had made.

  Mattie had her hair pulled back into a girly ponytail and was wearing a baseball cap. Wearing a bright pink, form fitting long sleeve shirt complete with painted on Capri blue jeans.

  I wondered how long it had taken to wiggle into those. It wasn’t the most tactical look by any means, but she pulled it off nicely indeed. I stood there holding my rucksack loaded with ammo and other gear we might need for the raid, smirking as I hatched an idea. I “accidently” dropped a few of my loaded rifle magazines.

  “Hey, Mattie, could you grab those?” I asked dumbly.

  She stopped and bent over to grab them, “Sure thing, Mike.”

  When she bent over I was given quite the spectacular vision of her ass. I am such a pig.

  Next to our truck, Stephen, Chris and Paul finished loading up in Chris’ huge GMC pickup and were now waiting on us.

  “Move ‘em out, pilgrims,” I called to my teammates in my best John Wayne impersonation.

  Our little caravan headed east out of Stephen’s neighborhood without having any zombie contact whatsoever. To better view our surroundings, I had Jamere halt our truck, and I climbed into the back and stood watching over the cab as we continued out of the subdivision northbound up Ridge Road. Glancing back, I noticed that Stephen did the same in the rear of Chris’ truck. He gave me a shit-eating grin and waved. I waved back, but with my middle finger, and turned back facing the road, grinning as well. Out on the road, the street was mostly clear with only a few unattended vehicles off to the side. The subdivisions we passed along the way seemed to be in the same state as Stephen’s. Open garage doors and vacant houses, signs of a mass exodus.

  We slowed down as we approached the intersection of Ridge Road and Caton Farm Road, and turned east. I glanced back again at Stephen’s crew, who crossed the intersection and pulled into the Walgreens parking lot. We lost sight of them while continuing east, and I began to notice a few groups of roaming zombies in the immediate area. They appeared to be heading Stephen’s way, so I got a hold of him on the radio to warn him.

  “10-4, Mike, we just arrived,” Stephen responded and then continued after a slight pause. “We’ll post a guard out front to keep watch while we stock up with what we can.”

  * * * * * * * *

  In the Walgreens lot Stephen and Chris each put on their “game face” and prepared to move. Paul stood nervously by the truck and had his head on a swivel, which Stephen had to admit, was a good thing.

  “Listen up, guys,” Stephen said as he jumped out of the back of the truck. “Mike advised that he saw some zombies headed our way. Chris I want you to pull guard out front, while Paul and I clear the store and get the meds.”

  “Roger,” Chris said, exited the driver’s seat, and adjusted hi
s rifle sling as he settled into a comfortable “ready” shooting stance.

  Stephen turned to Paul, who was now visibly pale and sweaty.

  “Look, Paul, just relax and follow my lead. I will take point and clear the building. You just follow behind me and make sure the area to our rear is clear while I do so.”

  Paul gulped nervously. “Alright, but it looks dark in there.’

  Stephen shook his head in pity. “Yes and that’s why we use these neat little gadgets called flashlights that help us see in the dark.”

  Without waiting for Paul to answer, Stephen headed for the door.

  The front glass door had been shattered prior to their arrival. As they stepped into the dark silent building, the only sound they could hear was the crunching of glass shards under their boots and Paul’s panicky labored breathing. Stephen switched on the powerful light attached to his rifle and searched each aisle. By the looks of things, he could tell that the place had been seriously looted already, and merchandise was scattered everywhere. Many of the shelves were stripped bare, but he could still see a lot of stuff they could use spread out across the floor. Finally reaching the pharmacy counter in the back, he found it basically untouched, and the metal security screen was still intact.

  Paul grabbed the metal screen and frantically yanked on it.

  “It won’t open!” he said breathing hard. “What are we gonna do?”

  Stephen just looked at him and shrugged. “I guess I’ll use my key.”

  “What key? Where did you get a key?” Paul asked, sounding shocked.

  “Just watch our back okay?” Stephen ordered. “And make sure you got your earplugs in.”

  I get stuck with the idiot, Stephen thought, While Mike gets the hot girl.

  Taking aim with his rifle, Stephen fired several times at the lock mechanism on the employee entrance and then kicked the door twice before he was rewarded with it crashing open. Entering the medication aisles, they began searching for the inhalers Paul’s daughter needed, as well as a list of antibiotics Dan had given them.

  * * * * * * * *

  Jamere slowed the truck down and pulled into the Joliet Police west station. Right off the bat I could tell we were too late. The enclosed garage that the S.W.A.T vehicles occupied had all the bay doors open, and both vehicles were missing. We could see that there had been a major fight here as the ground was littered with hundreds of shell casings and dozens of corpses lay sprawled everywhere on the parking lot and inside the garage stalls. We all silently stared at the carnage before us for a few moments. Finally I snapped out of it and begin scanning for threats.

  “Kill the engine,” I ordered down to Jamere from the back of the truck.

  Jamere shut off the loud truck, and we sat quietly, listening for the telltale moaning and growling of nearby zombies. Hearing none, I tapped the roof of the truck before hopping out of the back. Mattie and Jamere carefully climbed out of the truck cab, both having to sidestep slightly to avoid bodies. I signaled quietly for Jamere to pull guard outside of the open bays of the garage and Mattie and I entered the silent police substation. Dan was right. There had been a huge battle, and it was waged right here. It looked as if not everyone made it out alive. Seeing our familiar blue uniforms on crumpled bloodied bodies, I turned over several corpses belonging to police officers that I once knew. I forced myself to again come to grips with the reality that not everyone I knew would survive this pandemic, and there were bound to be tragedies along the way.

  As I continued to clear the immediate area, I could hear Mattie sob quietly in grief at the loss of even more of her fellow coworkers. In short order we cleared the small substation with no opposition. Out in the garage, I noticed a piece of paper fluttering in the wind near one of the open bays. It was a note taped to the lockbox that held the S.W.A.T vehicle keys:

  Whoever reads this, and hopefully it is someone I worked with, I, along with several other officers, have taken the vehicles to Terry Coleman’s cabin in Wisconsin. If you are reading this, and you don’t know where Terry’s place is, sucks to be you! Everyone we want up here knows the way.

  It was signed by my other workout partner, Chad Evanston.

  “That bastard!” I muttered aloud with a chuckle. “He beat us to it!”

  “What did you find, Mike?” Mattie asked.

  “Well,” I replied, handing her the note, “Chad, and what looks like a bunch of the S.W.A.T guys, took all the trucks and supplies to Commander Coleman’s place in Wisconsin.”

  After reading it herself, Mattie ripped off a string of curses that made me proud. Finally she calmed down and just stared at the paper.

  "I don't know where Commander Coleman’s place is, do you?" she asked.

  “Very impressive string of curse words,” I replied. “And by the way, yes I do.”

  Mattie just stuck her tongue out at me.

  "Oh relax! His place is too far to realistically reach now anyway," I said with a wink.

  After finally getting her to crack a smile, we walked back out to the truck empty handed. Seeing this Jamere gave us a questioning look.

  “Plan B?” he asked.

  “Yup.”

  Assuming our prior seating arrangements, Jamere let us in on the fact that that he heard some gunshots back from Stephen’s general area while we were clearing the substation.

  “They definitely came from back by the area of Walgreens,” he added.

  “We were bound to run into trouble out here,” Mattie replied. “I hope they are okay.”

  “I’m sure they are fine,” I told Mattie reassuringly.

  I figured it was as good a time as any to check on his status and let him know we were switching to Plan B. Hopefully they had better luck than us.

  * * * * * * * *

  Stephen wheeled a shopping cart down the aisles and started filling plastic bags with anything that looked useful on the shelves or ground. It was slim pickings but he managed to salvage some hygiene and first aid products. Paul, on the other hand, had hit pay dirt and tossed several boxes of the two different inhalers into his backpack. He also found several large bottles of antibiotics and pain killers and grabbed them as well.

  As Stephen was finishing loading the cart and began to wheel it to the front of the store, his radio crackled to life. It was Mike, who gave him a rundown of what happened at the substation and that they were going to Plan B. He acknowledged and informed Mike that they were just finishing at the pharmacy and since they still had time, would head to the nearby grocery store.

  “Jamere said he heard some shooting,” Mike asked. “Was that you guys?”

  “10-4,” Stephen answered. “I heard Chris open up a few minutes ago, and I had to put down a zombie pharmacist I found hiding in the back. Scared the shit outta me, those bastards are sneaky!”

  Exiting the store and piling the dozen bags of medication, bandages, antiseptics and such into the bed of Chris' truck, Stephen noticed that Chris had put down at least ten zombies in their absence.

  “Chris is fine, Mike,” he said into the radio. “I’ll get back to you in a bit.”

  “Roger,” Mike chirped. “Over and out.”

  With a "Good job zombie slayer!" and a pat on the back, Stephen filled Chris in on their success with the inhalers and what he heard from Mike. Stephen and Chris both agreed that at least somebody they knew had gotten there first and were able to use the equipment.

  “Maybe it gives them a chance,” Stephen wondered aloud. “We are already a lot better off than most.”

  “I really didn’t think those trucks would still be there, but it was worth a shot,” Chris replied. “Can’t win them all.”

  “Yeah, having an armored personnel carrier would have been huge,” Stephen agreed. ”At least until it broke down.”

  “Let’s go hit the grocery store,” Paul said, joining the conversation. “The sooner we get the hell out of here, the better.”

  19

  August 31

  Day 6


  Dan needed some air and stood up from the basement work bench, where Stephen had installed his HAM radio console, and grabbed the portable. On the way up the basement steps, he could hear the banter back and forth between Stephen and Mike, who were still in the process of their raids.

  All seemed to be going pretty well so far. Pausing in the living room area, he called up to Robert and asked how things looked from his end.

  “Looks great,” Robert replied. “No rotting fuckers around that I can see.”

  “Outstanding. I’m going to head out back, take a piss and smoke a Cuban,” Dan acknowledged loudly. “If anything changes that’s where you’ll find me.”

  Dan first peeked and then walked out the rear patio doors into the backyard. Taking a few moments to relieve his bladder in the corner, he sighed in relief. Now having finished the most pressing issue, he retrieved a nice fat Cuban cigar from his pocket and lit it. Savoring the fine smoke, Dan took a few moments to relax. He had been on high alert since he’d found his infected neighbor inside his home several days ago. As he was reflecting on how the world as he knew it had gone to shit, movement from his peripheral vision grabbed his attention. Walking towards him in almost a drunken way was a tall blonde woman. Dan walked in the direction of the fence on the back side of Stephen’s property to get a closer look. Nearing the woman, he could see that she was very attractive.

  She appeared to have been in a struggle. Her shirt was torn open in the front, exposing a very impressive set of breasts. She was wearing a pair of tiny blue jean shorts that only enhanced her long, shapely legs. A pink sandal was on her left foot, the other was missing.

  Today’s my lucky day! he thought to himself. Time to be a hero.

  When the beautiful woman stumbled nearer, Dan asked loudly, “Ma’am, are you alright?”

  She didn’t reply as she grew ever closer.