Epidemic of the Undead: A Zombie Novel

by P. A. Douglas

  “What the hell do you have left, Steve?” Chris shouted, shoving the reloaded clip back into the gun.

  “No idea!” Steve shouted as he fired. The chrome gun clicked empty.

  “Fuck!” Stephanie started beating hysterically on the closed door! “Let us in. Help us!”

  The dead were getting closer. The dead were reaching the twelfth step and gaining ground.

  “Are you even sure there are people on the other side of this door, dude?” Steve frantically tossed his gun into the agitated crowd.

  “They have to be!”

  Chris fired on the zombies again. He had fifteen shots. He could use up all but three of them if he had to. However, if that was the plan, then he needed to act on it, now. What was it going to be? As he pulled the trigger in fast succession, two, then three and four zombies fell to the ground as their heads took a precise hit. There were so many zombies climbing the steps and rounding the corner that the corridor was nothing but a sea of bodies. The stench was unbearable.

  Chris kept firing, his eyes still stinging with sweat. He struggled to focus for a second as the loud report of gunfire filled his ears. With each pull of the trigger, he watched each shot do its damage on the undead.

  “Get in! Get in! Get in!”

  Chris suddenly felt an arm grab him by the shoulder. “Let’s go, Chris!” It was Stephanie’s voice.

  Chris blacked out.

  Chapter Twelve

  The rain stopped as the sun began to rise on a new day. The things it shined upon were a desecration of the land as the sun peeped out from behind the low treetops and buildings.

  The Orange, Texas, Catholic School rescue station was overrun with the undead. The front gate was open wide and Gil’s truck was long forgotten by the hungry mob. His body had been devoured by a half a dozen blood covered and skin torn ghouls. The truck’s interior was splattered with Gil’s slaughter and the red stain of his visceral remains. One final zombie still sat in the front seat struggling to find its way out of the shattered passenger side window. Blood and matted meat ran down the passenger side door from those exiting the truck after their feast. Aside from the single creature trapped inside of the truck, hundreds of zombies roamed the holy complex. More were closing in from the streets and beyond. Dozens continued to flood into the parking lot. Gil’s truck half stuck out into the street through the gateway. He never had a chance. There had just been too many of the undead waiting to get in.

  Past the parking lot and through the main entrance to the school’s courtyard was a sea of undead walking corpses. Standing mostly shoulder to shoulder, their rancid decomposing bodies reeked of putrescence. With their overwhelming numbers came an even larger number of fruit flies and maggots. The buzz of their wings filled the air amid the hissing, grunts, and undead taunts. Eating their fill of the dead from the inside out, maggots squirmed through the living dead’s flesh. At one time, cots and other survival gear had been placed neatly across the courtyard. Now, they were scattered about, and trampled upon by several hundred shambling zombies, still in pursuit of any living sustenance. For the most part, their search had been futile. Out of their alarming numbers, at least three dozen zombies lingered around still feasting on the cold dead remains of Jesse and some of the other victims lying dead in the muddy grass.

  The reek of rot filled the air.

  Quite a few doorways leading into some of the buildings had come down against the sheer weight of the horde. Meandering about in the long halls and through many of the empty classrooms, the undead searched. Some found what they had been looking for. Shuffling up to the stained glass portrait of the mother Mary, zombies found the recently deceased old man lying on the cot along with the burn victim that Brady had shot. The feast continued, but only for a short time. Those able to eat the spoils eventually became discontent. Staggering about with bloated bellies and the insatiable need to feed, the undead hunger was still not quenched. It never would be. If they could, they would gorge until their stomachs burst and then they would still continue to eat.

  On the rooftop, Chris and everyone else looked down at the school grounds. The dead had taken over. Thankfully, the rain had stopped and numerous hours had passed. In the distance, Chris and many others watched as the sun started to peep out from atop the tree lines. An endless taunt of banging and moaning had followed into the morning from those trying to get to the survivors on the roof. There was no way the dead would be getting in, no matter how hard they tried. The doors to the roof opened in, not out. Even, if the undead had the strength they needed to take the doors down, it was impossible. While Chris and his friends had struggled to reunite on ground level, the over twenty survivors who ran to the roof had taken all the necessary precautions. The roof had been a backup plan all along and no one had told Chris or his companions. Chris and his friends had gotten to the rescue station after Father Clark and Officer Phillips had gone over it. The five-inch thick steel rod and dog chain locked to the door handles had done the job. No matter how much the dead pressed against the rooftop doors, the chains and steel rod wouldn’t budge. Through the night and into morning, the double doors leading to the roof shook on their hinges. The relentless moans and hammering of fists on the other side kept everyone awake. Even if someone was a heavy sleeper, their nerves were too shot to get any sleep. Now all anyone could do was wait and hope for rescue.

  The people on the roof were getting agitated. The last few hours of the night leading into morning had been the longest for some and the worst for most.

  A woman standing near Chris at the roof’s edge breathed a heavy sigh. “How much longer ‘til the National Guard shows up? We have no food or water and I’m getting restless.”

  Chris stepped away from the ledge and looked around. Rubbing both his eyes with his thumb and index finger, he tried to focus. He was exhausted and his eyes were still burning like hell. He needed to lie down. People were huddled together in small groups all over the rooftop, trying to keep warm against the morning’s cool breeze.

  “Chris here, he says the National Guard isn’t coming at all.” Steve rolled his eyes at the woman still looking down at the dead in the courtyard.

  “God save us all.” The woman sighed deeply, as she continued to look down at the sea of bodies below. It was beginning to become standing room only in the courtyard.

  “Good thing they aren’t claustrophobic, right?” Steve had already walked away from the woman. “You all right, man?” Steve asked, as he stepped toward Chris.

  “Yeah, dude. I just need to sleep. We’re all running on fumes you know.”

  “No, not really, dude. I’ve been sleeping it up for the last couple of days. Remember?” Steve adjusted his large framed glasses on his face. “I’m pretty much ready to go!”

  Chris rubbed his eyes again and then looked at Steve. Chris caught a brief glimpse of himself in Steve’s massive glasses. The image was faint in the clear lenses, but it was clear enough. Dried blood was still caked on his face in a few areas. He had done his best to clean it up after that zombie had throat sprayed all over him, but he hadn’t gotten it all. His skin tone was pale and his eyes were dark. Tired bags under his eyes sank into his cheeks. He looked like hell and it was no wonder Steve was concerned. Chris looked exactly how he felt, shitty. As soon as he could manage a few hours of solid rest, he would be back in the game. That was saying a lot for what they had just been through in the last day.

  I just need some sleep is all. I’ll be better after a few hours of shuteye.

  “I look that bad, huh?” Chris forced out a laugh.

  “Good to know you’re not feeling too bad, cause we need to figure out what the hell we’re going to—” Steve stopped as Stephanie walked up. “Hey, girl. You all right? You look just as rough as Chris.”

  Her hair was a mess. Her clothes were covered in drying mud and clotted blood. Yet somehow, Chris thought she still looked stunning. Her bright luscious blue eyes refused to fade amidst the chaos and carnage. He found himself
lost in them.

  Steve leaned in patting Chris on the back and then whispered in Chris’ ear. “It’s all you, man. I can see it.” Steve nodded his remark toward Stephanie. Walking away from the two potential lovebirds, Steve said, “You two should have some alone time. Soon as you’re rested up, Chris, let’s see about getting home. I’ve been doing some thinking this morning and I want to see about my parents too. I love you, man.” Steve walked away in silence for about twenty paces, then looked back and shouted, “Thanks for saving my life, man. I owe you one. I’m going to help you find your parents if it costs me everything.”

  Chris was taken off guard by that. Surprised, Chris watched Steve walk away with a smile on his face and a hop in his step. Steve finally realized the errors of his ways and the self-indulged personality he had been living with for so long seemed to be no more. Chris ran his fingers through his curly hair and smiled at Stephanie. She hadn’t known Steve nearly as long, and somehow, she too seemed to be astounded by Steve’s sudden selfless demeanor.

  “See… I told you bad times can also bring out the best in people.”

  “I guess you’re right,” Chris smiled.

  Standing at the rooftop’s ledge, Steve looked down at the rotting blasphemies below. Rubbing on his bandaged shoulder, he began to chat with a few other men standing close by. Chris scanned the roof once more. With what had happened in the last week, he was blown away by the idea of still standing in one place with so many other survivors. It was one thing to play a show for only twenty people, but to have lived through what they had lived through and be standing on a roof with that many people, suddenly made those little shows seem a lot bigger. Chris thought of the tour van still parked at that venue across from Stephanie’s work.

  Soon as we get out of this, I am swinging by there and picking up my banjo.

  “So, what do we do now?” Stephanie stared contently into Chris’ eyes.

  He liked seeing her look at him in such a way. He smiled. “You know, I don’t really know. Everyone here thinks the Guard is coming. But if what Officer Phillips said is true, then . . .”

  “You never know, Chris. They might.” She sounded confident.

  “I hope you’re right, Stephanie. I really do.”

  Chris looked her in the eyes for a long time. As they walked around the rooftop, they found themselves chatting about some of the things they had experienced in the last few days and how close they felt to one another so fast. He cherished every moment with her and surprisingly he found himself confident around her now. He felt more like himself. Despite the rotting cannibals below and the rancid stench, being in her presence was refreshing. He loved her laugh and enjoyed seeing her smile with the rising sun as her backdrop. It didn’t matter how stiff her clothing was or how grotesque her wardrobe had gotten. She was perfect to him in every way.

  They continued to chat about how they were both very shocked to have been let onto the roof last night. For a hot second, they both believed they were done for. Had that nurse, who had been taking care of Steve, not convinced the others to open up that door, Chris, Steve and Stephanie would have not made it. Apparently, what had taken so long to get the door opened was what kept the dead from getting to the roof. That massive chain had been a pain to get unhooked.

  As Chris and Stephanie stopped at a semi-secluded area, the nurse walked past. Chris nodded at her, expressing his thanks and eternal gratitude. She smiled back and Chris could tell that she knew he was grateful. When no one else had wanted to open that door, she had saved their lives.

  Stepping out of view from everyone else on the roof, Chris pulled Stephanie behind a large rooftop window unit. The large bulky box didn’t hide them completely, but it was privacy enough.

  “You know, Stephanie. I’m really…” Chris fought back a violent cough. Wiping blood from his lip, he said, “I just wanted to say I’m sorry. Sorry for kissing you like I did. It wasn’t the right time. I should have…” He looked at his feet.

  Rubbing Chris on the elbow, Stephanie said. “No, don’t apologize for that. If anything it should be me doing the apologizing. I know how you feel, Chris. I have the entire time. Nan pulled me aside the first day that we got here and talked to me about you.”

  “Really?”

  Stephanie blushed.

  “Well, I guess it doesn’t really matter what she said. What matters is that I care about you.” Chris pulled her into his arms. “I don’t want anything to happen to you. And I am going to make sure that it stays that way. I…I love you.” He leaned in, lips puckered.

  She didn’t resist. His heart clenched tight with anticipation. He was afraid she would just freak out, but she didn’t. Instead, she leaned in as well. Pure satisfaction and all loneliness that Chris had ever had in his life disappeared like a fleeting memory in that single moment.

  The kiss didn’t last long enough; Chris wanted more. Maybe this was what Father Garcia Clark had meant. He wasn’t totally sure what it meant, but he definitely felt like that refined diamond with Stephanie in his arms. He felt complete; like a winner. The last week of trials and tribulations had finally turned him into the man that he needed to be. He wondered if it was the new Chris that Stephanie was attracted to. It didn’t matter; none of it did. The last thing Chris wanted to do was over think everything. At least, he finally had the girl. And of all things, she was everything but a smoking scene slut from the shows. He sighed in relief, having never thought that this day would ever come.

  He had the girl and he had survived.

  Now she just needed to meet his parents.

  Looking down at her into those beautiful bright blue eyes, he waited for her to speak first, not wanting to ruin the moment with his clumsy mouth. What she said first wasn’t what he expected.

  “You feel really cold, Chris. Are you okay?” She pulled away to get a better look at him.

  He felt awfully sick; there was no denying it. In fact, he was even feeling lightheaded. “Nah… I’m fine. Just need some real sleep. It’s been a really tough night, you know.”

  “Yeah,” she agreed. “It has been a tough night. If you want to lie down for a bit, I’ll go let Steve know. I think we could all use some sleep.”

  “I know I need it. I’m fine with laying down right here behind the A/C-thing if you are.”

  She nodded, and then walked away to tell Steve that they were going to try to get some rest.

  Standing alone behind the large rooftop window unit, Chris became very dizzy. Trying to maintain his footing, Chris sat down on the gravel-covered roof. Leaned against the ledge, he closed his eyes. It was then that he suddenly felt something wet run down his lip. After wiping it away, he looked down at his hand. It came away red. His nose was bleeding.

  What the fuck?

  His stomach started to cramp.

  * * *

  Chris suddenly awoke to the sound of rushing waves. The rooftop gravel kicked up in a violent storm of roaring winds.

  “We’re saved!” Someone shouted.

  Chris had passed out and he wasn’t sure how long he had been out. His head was throbbing with pain and his joints felt stiff. He wanted to vomit. Maybe that would make him feel better. Standing to his feet, he had to grab the ledge to stand. Slowly, he made his way around the large industrial sized air conditioning unit and found everyone huddled together. As they looked to the sky, their clothes and hair danced in the wind.

  A helicopter was trying to land on the roof!

  Chris looked up in surprise. The National Guard had come.

  “Chris…Chris…They came!”

  Chris looked out at the rooftop to see Stephanie running toward him. She was overwhelmed with joy. Steve and Stephanie ran up to Chris’ side.

  Steve said, “Dude, they’re going to land!”

  Chris’ eyes grew wide as he looked into the sky. Trying to focus with blurred vision and angst, he caught sight of the flying craft. The helicopter was still relatively high in the air making its descent. The lower it came, t
he louder its propeller blades became, drowning out all other sounds.

  Chris looked on, the hope of finding his parents becoming very real in his heart.

  “Clear the landing area so that we can put ‘er down,” an amplified voice from the helicopter instructed.

  Chris looked up to see a man, dressed in black, leaning out of the helicopter, while shouting into a bullhorn.

  His voice cracked with the amplification. “Stand clear,” he said, as the chopper made its descent.

  “Dude, we’re totally getting the hell out of here. Soon as we do, we are going to Tennessee!” Steve grabbed Chris by the shoulder as he shouted with enthusiasm.

  Chris struggled to keep his balance amid the heavy winds. He felt weak and tired. Trying to hide it, Chris smiled.

  After the helicopter’s dramatic landing and the chopper blades turned off, several military personnel and National Guard officers stepped out onto the roof. They were all dressed in black attire; each wielding what Chis believed to be M16’s. There was no real way to tell. Chris was never a gun person, at least not until recently. Regardless of what type of guns they were, seeing them brought Chris an overwhelming sense of relief.

  They were saved.

  “I need everyone’s attention,” the military man said. His stance was stiff, his demeanor bold and brave. He commanded the roof’s attention like a born leader. “My name is Lieutenant Robert Foster.”

  The Lieutenant continued what seemed to be his practiced speech. All of the Catholic School survivors were huddled together at the ledge furthest from the locked double doors. With the helicopter practically centered on the roof, Lieutenant Robert Forster stood before it with confidence. He explained the situation to a degree. He quickly notified everyone that they were to be transported to a safe haven about seventy-five miles from their current location. It was very apparent that there would need to be more than one trip made. There was no way the chopper would hold everyone. Foster explained that with the number of survivors, it would take at least three trips to get everyone out. Before loading up the first group and taking off, the lieutenant took down names, did a head count, and assessed energy levels among other things.