Hamsikker: A Zombie Apocalypse Novel

by Russ Watts

  “There’s an off-ramp about a quarter mile that way,” said Quinn. “I would suggest we take it. If we stay on here, we could get trapped. Better to get off and back into Jeffersontown where there are more places to go.”

  As they crept through the highway, skulking between the cars, putting more distance between themselves and the dead, Jonas couldn’t help but think about Janey. He had been fooled into thinking everything would be fine, and that if they stayed holed up inside long enough, eventually the problem would just go away: except it didn’t. The zombies were still around, and their numbers only seemed to swell every day. Now that they were out on the streets, he was beginning to realise just how tough it was to survive. Janey had three kids to look after, and their father wasn’t on the scene. The gutless bastard had left her after little Mike was born, without so much as a goodbye. Now she was facing this? He knew he had to get to her. As soon as they had regrouped, he was going to have to go. She told him she would stay put, and wait. She told him she had enough food to last a few months, and she lived right above a grocery store, but what if she was forced out? What if one of the kids got sick? What if their house was attacked? What if…

  Up ahead, a car door rattled, interrupting his thoughts. None of the others seemed to notice it. Despite the long shadows, he could see it moving, just an inch or two, but definitely moving. There was no wind to speak of, so it wasn’t being blown open. It could be an animal, a wild dog perhaps, scavenging for food. As Jonas got nearer to the car the door opened further, and the pent up air inside was released. He was hit by a wall of fumes, of heat, and of putrid stale air that smelt rotten. Whatever had been inside had been done no favours by the Kentucky sun, and had probably been baking for some time. There was nothing good that could come from that car, but he couldn’t leave it. What if he ignored it and a runner came out behind them? Cast beneath the giant dark shadow of a delivery van, he couldn’t see inside the car. There didn’t appear to be anyone inside, but he wasn’t going to take any chances, and he readied his axe as he approached the beat up old Chevy. On the dash a Hula girl swayed her hips silently, her smiling plastic face at odds with the stench of death coming from the car.

  A palm stretched out from the slowly opening door, before smacking flat onto the tarmac. Jonas watched as another arm appeared and a second palm did the same. Nothing followed, and he looked around the door, curious to know what was behind those two frail arms. The rotting face of a dead woman looked up at him through pale, lifeless, unblinking eyes. The skin had turned a purple-brown colour, and grotesque holes had been torn into the woman’s neck by her now long-gone attacker. The zombie’s jaws opened, showing off two rows of yellow teeth and a swollen, black tongue. The woman reached for him, but her body was stuck in its seat, still tethered in place by the seatbelt. A faint moan escaped her lips, and as Jonas got closer, he could sense the eagerness to free herself reaching a crescendo. The zombie was pulling and twisting at the strap that held her in the car.

  Jonas felt disgusted. He wanted to be rid of this thing. It was no longer a woman, no longer a human, just a disgusting sack of maggots. He put his hands on the top of the open car door, and swung it closed. With an audible crunch, the woman’s head was pinned between the door and the framework of the car. One arm snapped instantly, its fragile bone snapping like a twig, and it hung uselessly from her shoulder. Bringing the car door back and swinging it hard, he smashed it into the zombie’s head again. One eye plopped out, but the creature kept moving, kept flailing its one good arm, kept moaning and hissing and drooling as Jonas remained tantalisingly out of reach. Again and again, Jonas brought the door flying into the zombie’s head, over and over until his arms ached. The dead woman’s skull finally caved in as brown goo slopped from her broken head, oozing out onto the street and splattering his feet. Finally, the zombie stopped moving. Jonas peered in through the open door, but there were no more inside. There didn’t appear to be much of use either. The woman’s handbag was still on the passenger seat, but getting it would mean having to reach over the dead body. He knew she was dead, but he couldn’t bring himself to do it. He couldn’t reason there was much point in getting close to the body just for a bag that was likely to contain little they could use now. Lipstick, cigarettes, and even money were all worthless now.

  Relieved he had been able to dispatch the zombie relatively quietly without causing too much commotion, he continued on, mindful there may be more surprises in the traffic ahead. Dakota had watched him, waited for him, and said nothing as he joined her. He said nothing either, eager to move on. What was there to say? Killing the dead had become de rigueur. They walked on, on the lookout for trouble, but only coming across a few bodies. They were the sort that couldn’t return, truly dead, truly at peace. Jonas noticed how Dakota whispered something as they passed each body, and he thought he caught the odd word. It sounded like a prayer. In fact, it sounded more like a plea, a request for God to end the suffering and take them into His arms. Jonas had once been like Dakota, but with every passing day, he found himself becoming more disillusioned. He didn’t begrudge her faith, and when he thought about it, he was a little jealous. The only thing he believed in now was his love for her, and the knowledge that he had to get to Janey. He’d promised her he would come. Family was all that mattered now. It was real, and it was something he could hold onto. Divine beings seemed a long way off, more like a fantasy that served little purpose in their efforts to survive. How Dakota held onto her beliefs staggered him. The moment his dead father had gotten up and walked again had been the last time he had thought he believed.

  “Jonas, get down,” Quinn hissed, signalling for everyone to stop.

  Freezing where he stood, he looked up. The off-ramp was just ahead, and they were almost clear, except for a school bus blocking their way. It had been left right across the road and its open door was facing them. To get around it would mean having to get very close to that door. There was movement inside, but whoever was in there was doing a good job of staying concealed. All he could see was the top of a head in one of the seats. Occasionally, it moved from side to side, indicating they were still alive, but other than that, he couldn’t see what was going on. Jonas crept forward to Quinn, dismissing his rambling thoughts, pleased to be able to focus on something else, something that actually led somewhere. Once they were downtown again, off the highway, they could find somewhere to stay. Even if only for one night, they needed a place to rest.

  “What do you think? We could just run for it. We could probably be past it before they heard us,” Quinn said.

  “Maybe,” said Jonas. He doubted they would all get past though, and whoever was last, was likely to be faced with whatever was on that bus. “What if there are more inside? We could try to sneak past, but if they cotton on to us, we might have a whole heap of runners on our tail, and we’re not equipped to deal with that. It’s too risky.”

  “So what then?” asked Erik. He had joined them, also seeing the bus that was blocking the road down into Jeffersontown. “What if it’s a kid, Hamsikker? What if it’s just some poor kid who’s been living out here alone? We can’t leave without knowing for sure.”

  “God damn it,” said Jonas. They had been lucky so far, finding a way through the vehicles without a single zombie emerging from the wreckage. The only one had been the woman trapped by her belt, and she had been easily dealt with. Now, just as they were almost clear, they had this to deal with. As unlikely as it was, Erik was right. There was a chance it was some kid hiding out, and he had to know. He had to know for sure. Jonas looked across at Dakota, wanting to get her opinion, to seek reassurance he was doing the right thing, but she was side by side with Mrs Danick, staring at the ground, and occasionally looking over her shoulder behind them. Was she avoiding him, or just avoiding having to make any decisions, to take any responsibility?

  “Right, I’m going in,” said Jonas resolutely. “The best form of attack is to use an element of surprise, right? Erik, you follow me
, and guard the door. If anything rushes me, I’ll hold them off. Quinn you stay here. If I don’t come back out, take the rest of the group, and get them out of here.”

  “But…”

  Quinn’s words were lost as Jonas charged at the bus. He ran silently, but quickly. He was rapidly getting fed up of the highway, and wanted off. Keeping low, he clambered up onto the bus. The stench wasn’t unfamiliar, reeking of death just as the car had done half a mile back that had housed the dead woman. He crouched down and looked down the aisle, seeing nothing but a mouldy piece of fruit that had stuck to the floor. It was so far gone he couldn’t even tell what it had once been. He climbed further into the bus, looking for the person they had seen from outside. Whoever it was must’ve slunk down low in their seat, as he couldn’t see anyone. Maybe they were trapped by their seatbelt too. Maybe they needed help.

  “Hello?” Jonas put on a brave voice, but the truth was he was scared. The bus was silent, and eerie. Dakota and his friends seemed a long way off as he stood alone inside the bus. He looked around at the doorway. Erik was there, his back to the bus, his eyes scanning the road for trouble. No voice answered Jonas, and he turned around, knowing he was going to have to go further into the bus. If it was someone hiding, especially if it was a child, they could be scared. Maybe they were injured and couldn’t walk. He took a step forward, and then froze. A child appeared at the end of the bus. It stepped out into the aisle, facing Jonas.

  “Hello? Are you okay?” Jonas’s voice echoed around the bus, and the child said nothing. It was dressed in a faded, green school uniform, and from the long, strawberry blonde hair, Jonas guessed it was a girl. “We’re here to help, okay? What’s your name?”

  The afternoon sun was fading, and in the gloom, it was hard to see if the girl was injured. She would be scared at least. This bus had been her home for a long time, and now she was looking at a strange man. He could understand perfectly why she didn’t answer. Just like Freya she was scared witless. It didn’t look like she was carrying anything, and her arms hung down by her sides. Jonas took another step forward. He lowered his axe, not wanting to frighten her any more than he knew he already was, and put it on an empty seat, sending dust cartwheeling into the air. The little girl was probably six or seven, just a fraction shorter than Freya. He wished she would say something, but she just stood there, in the darkness at the back of the bus. Jonas held out his hands and knelt down, hoping his non-threatening posture would encourage her to come forward. If he rushed her, she was liable to get scared and scream or do something stupid. The last thing he wanted was for her to start screaming and bring a thousand zombies their way. If she did have a weapon, things could get tricky in the close confines of the school bus.

  The girl slowly took a step forward, and then another. Her feet scuffed the floor as she walked, and she mumbled something that Jonas couldn’t hear. As she approached Jonas, she began to speed up, and Jonas was grateful she was finally coming to him. In the middle of the bus a thin strip of sunlight illuminated everything, and as the girl stepped through it, Jonas saw her face. All hope suddenly vanished, and he was gripped with panic. With her teeth flashing in the sunlight, the girl broke into a run, her dead fingers reaching out for him, and her eyes were locked onto his. Jonas desperately fumbled for his axe as the dead girl bore down on him. He knew he had no time to reach it though, and he thought of Dakota briefly before the girl’s teeth were in his face, and he was suddenly fighting for his life.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  Derek kept telling Javier he wasn’t going to do it, he wasn’t about to kill himself, and pushed back every time Javier nudged him closer to the exit. It was a fight Derek was destined to lose. Javier had shed his old skin like a rattlesnake, growing up quickly, leaving childhood behind in a flash. Threats meant nothing to him anymore, and he was not one to back down from a confrontation. He had been involved in more than a few fights in his time, and Derek was just another boy trying to be a man, playing a part, but with no conviction. They both knew how this was going to end. Javier ended the short-lived quarrel by punching Derek on the nose, and Derek reeled backwards. He collided with a chair leg, and skidded to the floor. Blood spurted from his nose, and Derek sat looking at the bright red blood dripping onto his hands, his eyes glassy and wide, as if he were looking at a miracle.

  “Get up,” Javier said. The bloody nose was enough to shock, but he knew he hadn’t hit Derek hard enough to do any real damage.

  Javier closed his eyes, counted to three, and then told Derek to get up one final time. Derek was neither deaf nor dumb, but he was trying to waste time. All he was succeeding in doing though was trying Javier’s patience. “Don’t test me, Derek. I won’t ask you again.”

  Derek sat on the floor in a stupor, and Javier snapped. “Right.” He kicked Derek over and over, lacing the man’s kidneys with boot prints, and only stopping when Derek was by the glass doors. Pleading and crying had never worked when his mother had done it, and it never worked now. Crying was a sign of weakness, giving your enemy a clear sign he had won. Derek had lost, and they both knew it.

  Javier reached down and picked him up, shoving Derek’s face up against the glass. He was staring right at the zombies, only inches away now, and they bit at the glass trying to get to him. It was smeared with blood and skin, and Derek whimpered like a wounded dog. Javier knew the front doors to the diner were locked, and he unloaded a couple of bullets into the lock, smashing them open. He carefully pushed one door open, just an inch, and he looked Derek in the eye. “Don’t let me down, D..D..Derek. Cindy’s relying on you. Remember what I told you.”

  Javier pushed the door open a few more inches, and then squeezed Derek through the doorway. He watched the fat man barrel through the zombies, into the parking lot, his survival instinct kicking in just in time. With the zombie’s attention drawn to Derek, Javier was able to close the door, and stepped back, interested to see how far the fat man would get. Javier chuckled. Judging by the zombies that had hold of Derek’s arms as he tried to run, it was not going to be far.

  “Honey, what are we doing?” Rose was pouting, and her voice sounded like a child’s. “Derek’s never going to make it to the tow-truck.”

  Javier walked over to Rose who stood above a still unconscious Cindy. “I know, he’s just a decoy.”

  “Yeah?” asked Rose. She relaxed, smiling, as if she was in on the plan all along. She looked up at him as if he was the king of the world. Her blue eyes sparkled, and Javier was so drawn to her that he almost forgot Derek’s screams outside, so captivated was he by her.

  “Yeah.” Javier wanted to take Rose into the back room, throw her down onto the dirty sheets, and fuck her senseless. He wanted it so badly that he actually contemplated if there was time. Rose had a certain way about her. Somehow, she always looked sexy. Maybe it was the way she held her blade, the way she eyeballed him, or maybe the way she curved her full lips up slightly when she spoke. Maybe Javier was just feeling horny. He tried to push away the thought of Rose’s naked body writhing on top of him, and concentrated on the plan.

  “While Derek keeps them busy, he’s going to get all their attention around the front of the diner. Meantime, we’re going out the way we came in.” Javier bent down to Cindy, and grabbed her arms. “Get her legs, Rose, we’re taking her with us.”

  Sighing, Rose took hold of Cindy’s ankles, and they slowly began carrying her toward the back door, back to the office where they could access the roof. “Why? We don’t need her. I don’t see why we don’t just leave her here.”

  “Because,” said Javier as he struggled to open the door, “I have a plan.”

  They put Cindy down on some of the sheets, and Javier noticed she was stirring. He told Rose to go up on the roof, quietly, and check the back of the diner. When the zombies had thinned out, she was to whistle, once, and then Javier would come up with Cindy.

  “So, now it’s just you, and me,” said Javier, as Rose disappeared up the ladder to the roof.
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br />   Cindy opened her eyes, looking around the room, and she slowly woke up as Javier held her hand. He caressed it gently, like a father soothing a crying child. Cindy’s skin was pale, and her eyes hazy.

  “It’s okay, we’re getting out of here,” said Javier. “Any second now, in fact. Are you okay to walk?”

  Cindy struggled to her feet, and let Javier lead her over to the ladder.

  “But...I...where’s Derek?” asked Cindy. She was dazed, and weak. The cut on her shoulder was deep, and blood still seeped through her shirt. Javier could see Cindy’s skin was sallow, and she wobbled when she walked.

  “He’s gone ahead of us,” said Javier. “Look, Cindy, you don’t need to worry about any of that right now.”

  Rose had only been gone a minute, and there was still no whistle. Perhaps Derek was taking longer to die than expected. Javier stifled a laugh, picturing the bleeding fat man running around the parking lot as the zombies chased him.

  “What? What’s funny?” asked Cindy. She looked Javier up and down, noticing the gun in his hand. It was as if she wasn’t afraid anymore. She was calm and composed. Javier knew she was in shock though. Her eyes moved across him slowly, and she spoke in a hushed voice, as if reading a bedtime story to an infant.

  “You’re cute,” said Javier, stroking away the hair from Cindy’s face. He cupped her chin in one hand, pressing the gun against her belly, and leant forward so he could feel her against him. His lips were millimetres from hers, yet she did not flinch or back away. She maintained eye contact with him as he kept the gun pointed at her belly, and he let his free hand drift down her neck. The skin there was cool and soft, and he felt her shiver as his hand carried on down to her collarbone. He slipped his hand inside the opening of her shirt, letting his fingers trace the outline of her breasts. A whistle sounded from the roof, and Javier brought his hand up again to Cindy’s chin. The thought of fucking Rose still lingered in his mind, and he found he couldn’t switch off. She got in his head, and coiled around his brain like a snake wrapping itself around its prey. In a different time, in a different place, he would’ve fucked both her and Cindy in this cramped room. Shaking it off, he waved the gun at Cindy’s face.