Slow Burn: A Zombie Novel

by Mike Fosen

  “Perhaps the safe zone personnel themselves looted the Armory looking for supplies?” I wondered out loud. “And how well equipped is this place going to be?”

  “Would you look at that?” Stephen said.

  Immediately I noticed what Stephen was talking about. Coming from the east and pulling on to Larkin just in front of us were two vehicles loaded with living people who must also be heading to the safe zone. They were the first survivors we had seen since saving Holly, and judging from the chatter over the radio, they were a big morale booster for our little group.

  Even I had to smile.

  We arrived at the safe zone a few minutes later, and as the large school came into view we were greeted by a flurry of activity not seen since the crisis first began.

  It was filled with living, breathing people!

  It could almost give a person a sense of hope after all we had been through. Almost, for also present was a mob of howling and moaning infected creatures, only kept at bay by a hastily prepared barrier of vehicles.

  “Our new home,” I relayed into the radio. “Let’s hope this works out.”

  23

  September 3

  Day 9

  The high school campus was like most every other newer high school in the country, complete with a large football field with bleacher seating, baseball diamonds, tennis courts, and a way overpriced architect’s fantasy of a school building. All compliments of the taxpayers. However, I didn’t think they ever imagined the armed guards with rifles that were patrolling on the roof. I guess none of that mattered anymore under the current conditions. The perimeter of the large parking lot had a fence of a sort. Someone had taken surrounding stalled cars, lined the edge of the property and stacked those two and in some places three vehicles on top one another.

  “They must have used a large front end loader or forklift of some sort,” Stephen remarked as we drove up. “The City of Joliet owns quite a few front end loaders and I believe I can hear one now running somewhere.”

  Several dozen people could also be seen walking around on the other side of the barrier, all looking like they had somewhere important that they needed to be five minutes ago.

  Slowing down at the “gate”, our convoy pulled to a stop. The gate basically consisted of a small bus that they would jockey back and forth across an opening in the perimeter. I guess it worked, but I would want a better, more permanent gate for the long term. The size of our caravan – our three vehicles following in behind the other two arriving cars – had gathered a bit of a crowd, which was forming on the other side of the vehicle wall. Several people with firearms stopped at the gate, and a thin white man hopped over the wall holding a pump shotgun and approached the lead car in front of me. After a short conversation that I couldn’t make out, he cautiously walked up to the ambulance as if I was a new type of zombie that could drive.

  I rolled the window down and told him we were here to enter the safe zone we kept hearing about.

  “You folks have anyone injured? Anyone that’s been bitten?” he asked.

  “Negative,” I shot back. “We’re all healthy, and there’s five total in my group.”

  After a bit more questioning, he ordered me to drive inside once the gate opened and stop near the tennis courts for a medical inspection as a safety precaution.

  I told him I understood their concerns, and as he waved me through, I radioed back to the group what we were to do once inside.

  They directed us to a vehicle parking area, and once we got out we were led to the fenced in tennis court that they set up as an intake area for new arrivals. It was separated from the rest of the facility by chain link fence, where a medical technician took our temperature and a few other tests. The other two arriving cars had a total of seven people, and they were to get checked out first. While waiting my turn, I talked to their group leader, a guy named Brett. He told me how his group was staying at the casino in town when the infections started. They holed up there for a while but food soon ran short, and most of the staff had bolted for home to check on their families. Without many weapons it was just a matter of time before something gave, and Brett said that when that happened it got ugly quickly. He got quiet, and I could see that he was reliving what happened over and over again in his head. Eventually I changed the subject, and soon it was his turn to get medically checked out. After they cleared him they got to us and they passed me, Chris and Dan with flying colors.

  While we were waiting for Stephen and Mattie to get cleared, the three of us started checking out our surroundings and a few things immediately stood out. I spotted the WCCQ 98.3 broadcast van parked near a large antenna. Several squad cars were parked in the lot, and also the police department’s mobile command center. The fire department even had a few engines on scene, as well as a couple ambulances.

  “Well that’s a good sign,” Dan said, looking at the equipment. “Maybe more of your city services made it through than we originally thought.”

  “I hope they don’t want their ambulance back,” I responded, “because they’re not getting it.”

  I was also very happy to spot several of the portable light towers belonging to the city. They were vital to the survival of this place. With the power being out, it got quite dark without street lights. I would hate to have to fight zombies in the dark. Chris was standing next to us and saw something that made him stop in his tracks.

  “I’ll be right back guys,” he said, walking towards a fire truck.

  As Chris neared the truck, he could see that the front passenger side of the fire engine was all dented and scratched with white paint transfer on it. Looking around, he located a group of firemen nearby.

  “Hey guys, whose engine is this?” he asked, pointing with his thumb.

  One of the guys replied, “It is mine. Why do you ask?”

  “This hunk of metal almost ran my ass over on Gardner Street last week!” Chris bellowed. “And it destroyed my squad when it fled from that accident scene, and I had to fight my way out of that death trap on foot!”

  “Oh man, I am so sorry.” The man’s face turned white. “Things went to shit so fast, we got scared and took off. We didn’t even see you.”

  Chris wanted to hit someone, but after the man’s heartfelt apology, he couldn’t muster the energy to be angry.

  “Don’t sweat it, bro, it turned out alright. No hard feelings I guess,” Chris said, surprising even himself.

  After shaking hands with the man and his friends, Chris walked back over to where I was standing and again told me the story of nearly being run over. Finally Stephen and Mattie were cleared, and we all made our way back towards our vehicles.

  While walking back, I heard someone calling my name. I scanned the crowd and soon spotted the familiar face of Robert Anderson, who jogged over to say hello. He filled us in on how they had no problem making it to the safe zone in his Tahoe and only had to run over a few zombies along the way. The safe zone was now using his truck, however. Due to his police experience he had immediately been assigned to the perimeter and had pulled a shift just last night.

  “I’d like to start going out on scavenging runs,” Robert said. “I’ve already volunteered for it, but so far nothing has gotten organized.”

  “That’ll have to change,” Stephen remarked. “There’s a ton of shit out there ripe for the picking right now.”

  “That would be great and count me in,” Robert replied. “Unfortunately this place has people playing politics already, and it’s hard to get anyone on board.”

  Robert told us how Holly had made herself busy immediately as well, setting up a counseling center in an old classroom, helping people who were having a hard time dealing with losing family and friends. Even Vanessa realized that she was not the only one who had suffered and was starting to snap out of it. He did admit that the living arrangements sucked. He was stuck in a gymnasium that was full of cots, along with several hundred other people, similar to what was seen on television after Hurric
ane Katrina in 2005 and on a smaller scale in New Jersey after Hurricane Sandy in 2012. It seemed if you were a buddy of the councilman, however, you got to use an old classroom as private living quarters. The food was not bad though, considering the circumstances. There were a lot of foodstuffs in the cafeteria and the school’s back-up generator provided power for cooking and bathing in the locker room showers. He ended the conversation as we reached our vehicles by saying he needed to go check on his wife and kids, who were helping organize activities for the children languishing on the school campus.

  Soon after Robert left, what looked like a paper pusher type carrying a clipboard and a sloppy looking guard who had a pump shotgun walked up to where I stood. The little man with the clipboard immediately attempted to give me orders.

  “Okay, you’re the new arrivals I’ve heard about, correct?” he said and did not even wait for a reply. “What we need you to do is unload all of your food and water supplies over near the large tent to the south. All gear and related things will be stacked in an orderly fashion near the semi-trailer next to it. Next, the vehicles you have brought into the safe zone will be confiscated for official security and safe zone use. Last but not least, all personal and whatever additional firearms, ammo, and weapons this group has will be turned over immediately to safe zone security personnel. And furthermore, you’ll be interviewed to see what skills you have to pull your weight around here.”

  I just stared at this idiot like he just called me an asshole.

  Several moments ticked by silently and the man looked up at me clearly uncomfortable.

  “Sir, uh…I said...,” he stuttered.

  “I heard what you said. Let me give you a bit of advice,” I interrupted. “Never order a man to turn over his guns unless you are prepared to take them by force.”

  Mr. Clipboard seemed unsure of himself. He probably never had anyone tell him no before.

  “But my orders…you have to...,” he began.

  “You and your orders can go fuck off,” I told him. “We’re keeping our shit for now, all of it.”

  “You better do as ordered or we will detain you,” the out of shape guard replied stepping forward, but unsure of what he was actually going to do next.

  Now I had to laugh. This dork, who looked like he just started this line of work today, was threatening me in a safe zone?

  “Why don’t you go with clipboard man here and have a three-way with his orders?” I growled. “Everyone in my group is a cop, and no one is detaining anybody.”

  I heard my teammates step up behind me, most likely investigating the raised voices of my verbal altercation.

  Stephen slid up next to me. “What’s the problem, Mike?”

  “This jerkoff is telling me we got to turn over our supplies, gear, vehicles and all of our guns to divvy up to the rest of the guards ,” I replied, knowing it would set Stephen off.

  “WHAT!?!” Stephen screeched. “You folks are out of your fucking minds if you think we will do that! You do know what’s right outside these walls, right?”

  More guards showed up as the argument looked like it could turn physical. Just then a voice cut through the shouting and quieted us down.

  “What seems to be the cause for this ruckus?”

  I turned and looked at a familiar looking white man wearing a freaking suit of all things.

  The guards snapped to attention and saluted the suit.

  “Sir, these men are refusing to follow orders and turn over items per safe zone directives,” the original guard said.

  The little man in the suit looked over at me and then scanned the rest of my friends.

  “Is this true?”

  “Hell yeah, it’s true!” I was growing more pissed by the second. “Your radio broadcasts said nothing about turning over all our shit once inside your safe zone!”

  “Well son, these are desperate times which call for desperate measures,” the man said. “So if it seems I trample on some constitutional rights in order to save my city, so be it. We have over seven hundred people staying here as of right now. It’s important for the common good of my citizens here that those who can afford to give do so.”

  I glanced around at the other occupants of the safe zone. There appeared to be several hundred people in a large army tent encampment on a baseball field. Looking closely, I saw a huge majority of them doing nothing but sitting on their asses. A few women appeared to be cleaning the row of port-a-potties that were lined up behind a dugout. There seemed to be a minimal number of civilians pulling guard duty or doing any kind of manual labor for that matter.

  “Yeah, I see how well your redistribution of our supplies and firearms would benefit your people here by letting them get fatter off our food,” I finally replied. “If you folks need more stuff, I suggest you put together supply raids to go out and scavenge up more of what you need. There’s plenty out there.”

  “I’ll even help you find more firearms,” Stephen said, “but you sure as hell aren’t taking mine away.”

  “Hey, aren’t you Councilman Lewis?” Chris asked, changing the subject.

  The man wearing the suit straightened up and brushed off his sleeves. “Why yes I am. I’m also Director of the Western Will County Safe Zone authorized by the Department of Homeland Security.”

  “I thought so,” Chris replied, turning to us. “This is the tool who always voted against our police contracts and budgets.”

  Councilman Lewis’ face began to turn red from anger. “I had very good reasons for why I voted how I did.” He looked around and chuckled to his guards. “Besides,” he said, “it’s not like you cops helped out when this epidemic started. When I called 911, nobody showed up at my house, and I’m a city leader for Christ’s sake.”

  The guards all began to laugh.

  Dan walked up to the Councilman and leaned forward with a scowl on his face. “We all lost a lot of friends and loved ones to this crisis, scumbag. So shut your mouth before I do it for you. As far as taking my weapons, you see, I love them like they were family.” Dan’s scowl was making his facial scar turn white and twist as if it was a snake. “Now if some deranged idiot was to try and take a family member of mine…well I’m not sure what I would do.”

  I wasn’t positive if it was his pretty speech or the fact that Dan actually kissed his home built AR-15 while staring Councilman Lewis in the eye the entire time, but Lewis took a step back, clearly rattled.

  Mattie, who had been quiet this entire time, now spoke up. “Sir, we are here to help,” she said in a calm voice. “Now I’m sure some sort of compromise can be reached.”

  “Yes, yes we can most definitely reach a compromise. Guards, put these people on perimeter duty as soon as possible,” Lewis stated and didn’t wait around for a reply.

  He spun around and stalked away in anger with the sound of the newcomers chuckling at his retreating back.

  * * * * * * * *

  Councilman Lewis opened the door to the office that functioned as the safe zone command center. Slamming the door, he walked to his desk and sat down. From inside a desk drawer he pulled out a bottle of bourbon that he had acquired from a recent seizure for “redistribution”. He poured himself a shot.

  “Who do those clowns think they are?” he said aloud to the empty office.

  They did not seem impressed one bit by all that he had done here. Well that just showed what kind of imbeciles they were.

  I’ve almost won election for mayor three times!

  Throwing down another shot, he felt his anger rise.

  However, this epidemic was the best thing to ever happen to his career. The sickness had killed every councilman and the mayor, which by default made him top dog in this city. Without anyone to say otherwise, his word was basically law in this crisis. That had held true until those five assholes had showed up today. Lewis was so mad that it was a few moments before he realized his hands hurt. Looking down, he saw that he was gripping the bottle of bourbon so hard he was surprised that the bo
ttle hadn’t broken. Taking several deep breaths, he reined in his rage and set the bottle onto the desk.

  He hadn’t been that angry in years. Not since his mother had committed suicide.

  That was also the fault of law enforcement. They were the ones who had arrested Charlie Kettle, his half-brother, who was charged with over two dozen rapes, and those were just the ones they thought they could prove. He was sure there were a lot of back room deals being cut with those tramps, who were probably all seeing dollar signs.

  The ensuing trial, with all those vindictive whores’ testimonies, broke their mother’s heart. In a bout of depression, she had killed herself with an overdose of sleeping pills.

  Lewis threw down another shot of liquid courage.

  Steaming mad now, he recalled how he was unable to return home for the trial to comfort her. He had been out in California at the time, in college at Berkley.

  And poor Charlie… he thought. All of those years in prison.

  Sure, he had a problem, but he hadn’t tortured animals in years, and all those women he supposedly sexually assaulted, well they were all in it for the money. The resulting lawsuit had paid out millions and bankrupted the church his brother had created and preached at. Since being incarcerated, Charlie was moved from one maximum security prison to another for several years, until ultimately stopping at Statesville Correctional Facility, just outside of Joliet. Lewis could never visit him either. It would devastate his political career if anyone found out he was related to Charlie. The story had been plastered all over the news for months. Only the fact that they shared the same mother but had different fathers, and thus had different last names, kept anyone from knowing they shared blood.

  Now he would probably never know if his brother was alive or dead from this virus.

  “And that jackass cop wonders why I voted against the police!” he snarled to the empty room.

  Downing yet another shot, he coughed and poured another just as fast. Most of the people inside his safe zone here were just like sheep. Tell them to do something and they did it. They liked having someone making their decisions for them and were happy as long as they were warm and well fed.