Slow Burn: A Zombie Novel

by Mike Fosen

  “I wonder if anything is left worth taking,” he asked.

  Dusting my hands off, I looked to where he was staring. “Only one way to find out,” I replied as I un-slung my M4, dropped the magazine, inserted a fresh one, and slapped it home. “Dan, you and Mattie finish packing the ammo please. Stephen and I are checking on something across the street.”

  Dan paused and looked over at Mattie.

  “My pleasure, Mike,” he replied with a grin.

  Mattie froze in the process of moving a case of shotgun ammo, looked over her shoulder and rolled her eyes and whispered, “Why me?”

  The main garage door at the City Hall maintenance bay was left open, most likely when the mobile command center was moved to the safe zone. Peeling the corner, Stephen and I cleared the large garage area. A lot of garbage and debris had blown in, and it had the appearance of being looted. It was hard to tell if anything important had been taken, and there were signs of fighting, with large blood stains on the floor and walls. No signs of the victims, however. They must now be roaming as zombies somewhere.

  “Sweet!” Stephen said from a dark corner.

  I hurried over to him to see what he found.

  Stephen tossed aside a large tarp and uncovered two Honda four wheelers complete with emergency lights, sirens and police markings. They looked a bit used and abused, but they were perfect for weaving in and out of stalled vehicles. It took a few minutes, but we located the keys and had them fired up in minutes. We each hopped on one and drove them out of the garage and over to the bus where Mattie and Dan stopped packing to see what new toys we found.

  “Let’s head back and unload our supplies. Chris will need the loader to unload the generator anyways,” I said as I got off the ATV and waved Mattie over. “You can ride in style now, Mattie.”

  “We’ll scout ahead, Mattie,” Stephen offered. “Mike, you got the loader, Dan you bring up the rear.”

  I watched them take off, feeling a wave of satisfaction come over me as I reflected on how much progress we made today. Soon our compound would have plenty of electricity and water to go with it. And the ammo was a major score as well.

  “Yes sir!” I decided. “Things are looking up.”

  37

  September 23

  Day 29

  Sweat rolled off the nervous man’s head and continued down his back. Looking at the figure who silently stared at him from behind the old oak desk didn’t help his nerves.

  “Explain to me again how one of my sinners has escaped,” Kettle hissed as he leaned forward and splayed his fingertips together.

  The thin, nervous man couldn’t bear to meet Kettle’s gaze. Wringing his hat in his hands, the man stuttered, “Um, w-well you see, we had a big g-group of survivors join recently, and there was lots of pussy there. Some of the husbands and brothers didn’t take kindly to your orders of detaining the women for cleansing, and we had ourselves quite a disturbance.”

  “I see, but that doesn’t tell me how the girl Holly escaped,” Kettle replied.

  “There was a huge fight, and they needed my help to quell the rebellious men,” the man quickly added. “She must not have been tied up too well and slipped out the back of the church.”

  Behind the thin man, a nondescript man silently stepped forward, so close he could smell the nervous man’s sweat.

  Kettle leaned back into his chair and looked at the man who was in charge of Holly’s imprisonment.

  “So what you are telling me is that you left your assigned post without direct orders from me or your immediate supervisors?” Kettle accused. “I gave you one responsibility.”

  Kettle nodded at the figure standing behind his doomed follower.

  “Well, under the circumstances, sir,” the nervous man started to say, “I had to— uurrKKK!!!”

  The thin man’s head was pulled back roughly by the forehead and a razor sharp blade was raked across his throat. The attacker kept a hold of the violently bleeding man, keeping him upright and still looking at Kettle. Kettle stood up, face red with rage, and placed both fists on top of the desk and leaned forward.

  “The punishment for disobeying a prophet of God is death!” he screamed at the dying man.

  Kettle sat back down and waved his hand towards the twitching fool who didn’t realize he was dead already. “Get this filth out of my sight and make sure the others see his body, and let it be a lesson to them,” Kettle ordered the other two men in the room.

  The two door guards grabbed the now lifeless corpse and dragged him out of the room.

  “And we’re going to need a better way to keep my little pet projects safe!” Kettle added in disgust.

  * * * * * * * *

  The roar of gunfire in the small grocery store faded as the last few empty shell casings spun to a stop on the tiled floor of the aisle Stephen and I stood in. The bullet hole riddled, now dead zombie fell to the floor with a wet splat. Stephen went forward to make sure the accursed creature was dead while I checked our rear position.

  “It’s dead, Mike, how does it look your way?” he asked

  “All clear on my end.”

  Stephen swapped out his rifle magazine for a fresh one. While he did so I looked over and saw I stood next to a display of Hostess apple fruit pies.

  “Oh sweet God, I haven’t had one of those in years.” I began to salivate like a hungry dog.

  Stephen took point, and I tucked my bat under my arm, snagging one off the shelf and began tearing open the delicious beauty. The crinkling of the wrapper sounded much louder than I had anticipated. Stephen jerked his head to the side and glanced back in alarm. I abruptly stopped and gave him a chagrined look and shrugged my shoulders. Stephen shook his head disapprovingly, rolling his eyes and stepped off again to finish clearing the store. Before long he stopped as the sound of tearing wax paper was once again breaking the thick silence. He again turned around, clearly out of patience as he stood staring at me happily munching on the sickeningly sweet apple delight.

  “Do you mind focusing for just at least a few more minutes?” he asked angrily. “Filling your pie hole can wait, can’t it?”

  Popping the last bite into my mouth, I dusted my frosting covered hands off on my pants and stepped towards Stephen, patting him on the shoulder.

  “Sure thing, buddy.” I retrieved my bat from under my arm, stepped past him, and crushed the head of the undead creature that had walked up behind him.

  Looking back at Stephen, who had a surprised look on his face, I added with a straight face, “You might want to pay more attention while on point however.”

  “But… I didn’t …you were…there wasn’t…bah this is bullshit!” Stephen sputtered.

  I just smiled and finished chewing the remnants of the apple pie treat as Stephen stomped off.

  On our way to the front doors, I grabbed a shopping cart that had been left where the last shopper abandoned it, and began loading as many canned foods as it could hold. Once it was full, I wheeled the cart to the doors and saw Mattie enter.

  “Hey there, hope you like canned veggies,” I said. “Cause I have about two hundred or so cans of it.”

  “I think I can whip up something to go with them with what else is in here,” she replied. “Besides we’ll have to eat a lot of the perishable stuff first, so the veggies will probably sit for a bit.”

  “Are Hostess Fruit Pies considered perishables?” I asked, tearing another one open. “Damn things are addicting!”

  Mattie shook her head and said she doubted it and continued on into the store as I exited out to the awaiting trucks.

  It had been a couple of days since our raid to get the generator, and we were gradually becoming better organized. We had several new bodies yet again on this raid. The other volunteers that came with us who were not assigned to perimeter duty were busy loading all the supplies that our vehicles could hold. I walked over to Chris and asked him how the area was looking.

  Chris paused to wipe the sweat from his face and
gave me a tired look. “The zombies are pretty light today, thank God,” he replied. “I’m getting tired of the howling and screaming. I think I’m starting to hear their damn moaning in my dreams.”

  “You aren’t dreaming it, buddy. They congregate outside the prison walls at night and howl because they can’t reach us. Try wearing earplugs,” I suggested.

  Chris shrugged and looked back out at the surrounding area. “I‘ll give it a shot, it couldn’t hurt.”

  I helped cut open a propane exchange station that was in front of the store, and we found eleven full twenty pound tanks. After loading the last one, I stopped in my tracks at the sound of engines approaching. I saw three large pickups with several occupants inside each one. I looked over at Chris, but he already knew his job and was on his radio letting the others know we had company.

  By the time the trucks came to a halt, Stephen and the others made their way to where I stood.

  The newcomers exited their trucks and stood staring at us without talking.

  “Awkward…” Chris mumbled behind me, which made me chuckle.

  A door opened on the lead truck. A familiar person approached us with two thug looking bodyguards.

  “Hello my friends, we meet again!” Father Kettle said.

  “Hello as well,” Stephen answered. “What brings you folks here?”

  “We were heading here to get some food for our compound,” Kettle replied while looking around. “However, it appears we are not the only ones who had that idea.”

  Stephen glanced back at our almost full trucks. “Yes, well, we needed to resupply our stockpiles because we have had a large influx of survivors lately. Once we finish loading up here, there should be more than enough left over for your people.”

  Kettle held his hands out to his sides. “Why should we compete for food and resources? I encourage you and your friends to join with us.”

  Stephen shook his head from side to side. “Again, I appreciate the offer, but we humbly decline.”

  Kettle looked annoyed. “I’m surely no warrior, but do they not say there is strength in numbers?” He was almost pleading now. “Could not you sleep more securely knowing that not only our forces protect one another but our Heavenly Father as well?”

  “Maybe farther down the road that could become a possibility,” Stephen replied with his jaw set in defiance, “but as of right now the answer is still no.”

  Kettle nodded his head, realizing that he was wasting his time with Stephen. His eyes drifted from face to face until they latched onto Mattie’s attractive form. The sudden change that came over Kettle was amazing. He appeared to go from friendly priest to hunting predator then back in the blink of an eye.

  His face split into a wide grin. “Ah… Mattie, is it not?” he said softly. “Surely you would enjoy the comfort of physical and spiritual safety, yes?”

  Mattie actually shrank away from the weird vibes coming from the priest. “We seem to be doing just fine, Father.”

  “Yes, it appears that way now,” Kettle went on, “but the wickedness living in all men and woman needs God’s healing touch to remain checked in these dark days.”

  I’d had about enough of this goofball’s preaching.

  “Exactly what part about ‘no’ did you not understand?” I said harshly. “If we ever change our minds, you will be the first to know. Until then, thanks, but no thanks.”

  Kettle struggled to hold back an angry retort as his two bodyguards began to move at me with violence in mind. He stopped the men with a sharp wave of his hand.

  “So be it,” he answered, scanning me from head to toe. “It looks as if some people God just cannot save.”

  I chuckled dryly. “Look around, mister. Your God hasn’t done a very good job of saving people lately.”

  The anger seemed to radiate off Kettle like a bonfire, and then it fled just as fast. “God be with you, my children,” Kettle said, “and I hope to make your acquaintance again.”

  Without a word, he stalked back to his truck with his men, climbed aboard and left the area in a cloud of exhaust.

  As the vehicles shrank into the distance, Stephen said softly, “I don’t think he will send us any Christmas cards this year.”

  * * * * * * * *

  Back at his compound, Kettle swiftly walked through the church and blasted his office door open.

  “How dare that arrogant asshole spit my invitation back into my face like that?” he yelled to nobody in particular, pacing back and forth in front of his desk. “Then the heathen had the gall to insult Almighty God in Heaven as well?”

  Some of the men who had been left behind while he went out could only stare at their leader’s rage in silence.

  “My men informed me of their location,” Kettle explained. “I risked my very life to leave this sanctuary and invite them into our fold. And this is how they respond!”

  Gripping his hands into white-knuckled fists, Kettle shook them at imaginary opponents. “That Neanderthal shall regret this day!” he growled. “I swear it upon my soul! All of them, especially the woman! I could feel her dark passions eating at my self-control just standing near her!”

  “So what do you plan on doing?” one of his men asked.

  Kettle seemed to see his fellow brothers for the first time and quickly recovered his demeanor. “Do? I shall do nothing at the moment,” he decided. “The unrepentant shall be judged by God. Their doom shall be from their own hand, not ours. Now you must leave me to my prayers. I have many things to discuss with my God. Please go oversee the strengthening of our fortifications, brothers. We have many things that need to be tended to.”

  His followers closed the office door on their way out. Kettle retrieved the large key ring from his desk and began heading down the steps into the church’s basement. Since the escape of one of his women a few days ago, steps had been taken to further secure this lowest level of the church into a holding area of sorts. The women were bound with restraints in a large common room, and a smaller private room was set in the back corner. Safe and secluded, it allowed Kettle the perfect place to perform his duties. Eagerly he walked to the room at the end of a small hallway where his harem of women awaited him. As he opened the locked room, he heard the soft whimpering of the captives inside.

  “Don’t be afraid, my little flock,” Kettle gently whispered, closing the door behind him. “You should find pleasure in my work.”

  38

  September 27

  Day 33

  Kettle looked at the silent killer as the man put away the blade. Kettle was positive he had more blades hidden on his body. He was also the most deadly and callous killer he had ever met. He looked at the two men who now lay dead at the killer’s feet. Father Kettle had endured another long day as leader of his growing congregation and hated to see it come to this.

  He’d just as soon kill someone as step on a bug, Kettle thought with an evil grin. That was how easily the man killed on his command.

  He was his most trusted man that escaped from prison with him and the others. He was also his most forefront fanatical disciple.

  “You have served me well yet again, my son,” Kettle said with admiration. “Those men refused to submit to our laws.”

  Kettle had several people out gathering up survivors, some of whom were not open to Kettle’s practices. They also did not wish to have their wives, girlfriends and sisters turned over to be ‘cleansed’.

  “The bigger one there,” Kettle continued, pointing at one of the dead men. “His wife was especially fine. You may take her tonight if you wish.”

  “That will not be necessary,” Jonas replied. “I have other work to attend to in your service, Father.”

  “Very well, my son. What then is the status of Mattie?” Kettle asked. “Since her people have refused to join us, other steps must now be taken. Have the others I assigned been keeping watch of them?”

  “Yes, Father,” Jonas answered. “And they are reporting that the group at the prison is growing s
tronger. As for Mattie, she is always with that same group of unbelievers. But sooner or later she will be alone outside the safety of the walls, and the men you sent will grab her.”

  “Excellent, my son,” Kettle replied with satisfaction. “I have a new job for you. A job I can trust only you to handle. I need you to infiltrate this prison as soon as it can be arranged. I’ll need you to find out everything you can about them. After we have learned their weakness and when the time comes, we can swiftly destroy them, so they will never be a threat to our plans. Can I trust you with this mission son?”

  Jonas dropped to his knees and bowed his head. “My life is yours, Father!”

  Yes… yes it is, Kettle thought before giving Jonas further instruction. “Until that time arrives, I want you to keep an eye out on the men for me, let me know if you feel any of them are not completely loyal to our noble cause.”

  Jonas stood and nodded. “Consider it done.”

  After Jonas left the room, Kettle lit a candle and followed the stairwell back down into the dark basement. The weak light illuminated the cluttered hallway as he approached the locked door. The closer he got, he heard the muffled crying of several women. Unlocking the door and pushing it open, Kettle looked longingly at the several women tied up and lying on the floor. Some of the newer ones were crying for mercy in the weak candlelight.

  A cold predatory smile formed on his lips. Yes, it was quite a harvest of wicked women that was taken with this new group of survivors. His blood began to hammer in his brain and his loins. It was a sign from God that these poor ladies were blessed to have him purge their souls of evil.

  Kettle closed the door and the screaming began.

  It was going to be a long night for the women.

  * * * * * * * *

  I looked up from the city map I had laid out on the hood of an old truck parked near the command center.

  “Looks like your scouts are back,” Stephen commented at the commotion headed their way.