Apocalyptic Beginnings Box Set

by M. D. Massey

  Victoria winced at the word guilt but was quick to respond, “And you aren't the awkward boy who ran me over and practically hid behind your grandma. I've seen you do some amazing things the last couple of days that would have made most guys wet their pants in fear.”

  “Well, it may surprise you to know one thing that still makes me whiz in my drawers is asking a pretty girl out on a date.”

  She gave him a sideways glance but hid her reaction and kept walking and talking. “What are we planning to do next? Do we stay with the police we met at the Arch or strike out on our own with Grandma?”

  He slowed down as he formulated a response. “I have to get to my parents’ house. They don't live far from here. My dad is kind of an expert at survival and stuff, so finding him will help us a lot. Besides, I can show you all my dorky rock n' roll posters, my retainer, and my pocket protector.”

  They both laughed.

  “My parents are in Denver. I don't know that I'll ever see them again.” She said wistfully. “Maybe someday I'll try to get out there if things ever get back to normal. I don't think they ever will, though. I'm going to be stuck in your home state of Mizzer-y. No offense.”

  Her body language conveyed a sense of deep despair. Not that he blamed her, because she obviously missed her family. That would be a blow to just about anyone. He admitted to himself he would follow her to Denver if she asked him to go. He found himself suddenly unwilling to part from her, so he figured now was the time to cheer her up.

  “I got you a present,” he said with renewed energy.

  It immediately brightened her face, bruises and all. “Really? When did you have time to go shopping? The stores are all closed.” She gave him a painful-looking grin, but her smile didn't diminish.

  “Well, I didn't buy it, but I didn't steal it. I think it was abandoned when I acquired it.”

  “I'm intrigued.”

  “Close your eyes and hold out your hands and I'll give it to you.”

  Her green eyes peered into his for a long moment, but she did as he asked, smiling happily. He pulled the item from under his untucked shirt on the non-gun side of his waistband. He gently put it in her hands and invited her to look at it.

  It was a small, travel-size Bible.

  “You were looking for one when we met, so naturally, I've been trying to find one every minute of the day since then.” He smiled to be funny but admitted it was pretty near the truth.

  Victoria was tongue-tied for several moments. He knew that was not an easy thing to do.

  “Thank you, Liam.” She said it in an almost reverent tone.

  “It's only the New Testament. I'm working on getting you an Old Testament. I've got scouts roving the countryside as we speak.” Again, he laughed at his joke to make himself feel less self-conscious that he was trying to do something nice for a girl. He also did his best to keep it casual and avoid any hint he wanted something from her in return. He just wanted to do a good deed for her that didn't involve shooting sick people in the head.

  “Liam, it's absolutely perfect. Truly, this is the most thoughtful gift anyone has ever given me.”

  Whoa!

  “Where did you get it?”

  He hesitated for a moment, wondering if it would get him in trouble.

  “I saw it in the train engine when we were up in there the first time, and I ran up there—”

  Here comes full disclosure.

  “—I ran up there that last time we were running from the zombies with Grandma. I figured it was the final chance I'd have to get it for you. I didn't know we'd live past the bridge. I felt it was worth the risk.”

  “Well, your feelings on this matter were completely wrong. Nothing is worth risking your life like that. Consider this a slap on the wrist.” She took his hand and tapped it playfully. “But I do 100% appreciate this, and I'll treasure it.” Her smile was infectious.

  They strolled on the gravel road for another couple of minutes then turned around and walked back. They both agreed was unsafe to be so far from Grandma or lots of people with guns.

  On the return trip, Victoria surprised him by holding his hand.

  Totally worth it.

  * * *

  4

  When they reached Grandma, she was done talking to Phil. He was giving her a big hug and let go as they got close. His face was flushed red; he'd been crying some more.

  “I don't know how your grandma did it, but she answered my prayers. She really did. Thank you both. I, uh, need some time alone to process this. Please excuse me.” He walked off, avoiding eye contact as he went away.

  “Grandma, what did you tell Phil about his wife?”

  “I don't know if I understand myself. Somehow, I knew to call out her name and the name of his daughter and share their desire to get us across. I had one more message, but that was just for Phil. I'm having trouble remembering how I knew it, though. I'm old, you understand,” she said with an expression that conveyed “And that's all I'll say about it.”

  “Grandma, I think we just witnessed a miracle. There's no other way to explain how that happened.”

  “The Lord works in mysterious ways.”

  She said it with a big sigh, then settled herself against the tree as best she could.

  He had to admit it was nearly providential the way he found Victoria from out of the tens of thousands of people in the Arch grounds. That she would turn out to be such a critical person in helping him and Grandma get out of the city. And the one big favor he did in return was helping her find a Bible, and that a Bible turned up where it did, when it did. Was it all a divine mystery, or just a lot of amazing coincidences?

  He still had trouble believing in God, but he desperately wanted to believe in something. He craved the same fearless faith as these two women, though it struck him that even if he chose to go back to church, there might not be any churches left.

  Maybe Victoria was put here to help me find my way spiritually?

  His anger at being “dumped” at Grandma's house by his father had long since dissipated. If anything, his parents had done him a favor by putting the two of them together at precisely the same time the world fell apart. It almost seemed his dad anticipated what was going to happen. Almost like he knew.

  Wait. What?

  He dismissed it as absolute rubbish. His father was always spouting off—he would claim he was “discussing intelligently”—things like government conspiracies, media collusion, and military-industrial scheming. But those were just silly theories.

  Right?

  He was 99% sure it was all bunk. But the last 1% was elusive. His whole worldview fell apart if that rounding error couldn't be sorted. But his dad saw the government as the bad guy. Always. That mindset might be believable if he were reading one of his books on zombies, but in the real world it seemed completely insane. All his book learnin' did nothing to help him recognize real zombies until they got up in his face and tried to bite him—so he couldn't necessarily trust those books as his guide anymore. He looked over to the police back at the bridge—the people who just saved them—and realized they were the government. He wanted to believe they represented help, not some massive internet-fueled conspiracy. He resolved to keep his eyes open; to prove his father wrong. He wanted to toss out that last percent of doubt.

  For now, he was 100% sure he had to come up with a plan for their next move. He still had a deep fear he'd end up being that guy and step on a rake at the worst possible time, but after all he'd just seen and done—and survived—that irrational fear was receding. He had to be smart in looking ahead.

  He'd been guiding Grandma the past four days, and he admitted it would be nice to hand her off to Mom and Dad—the “professional” caretakers. But even if they arrived at his home this afternoon, he wanted to spend as much time as he could with her. After all, she wouldn't be around for much longer. Would she? He recalled a phrase she'd once said in her sleep. Something about living to be 120. Rather than fear of spending more time with
her, he found anticipation. If things got back to normal and she lived that long, he'd celebrate each birthday with real zest. If things got back to normal …

  Thinking of his parents, he checked his phone for the millionth time to see if it had a signal. He tried not to get too bummed when he confirmed it was still offline. It appeared as if he'd have to physically walk to his house to talk to them.

  Victoria bumped him with her hip to get his attention.

  “Do you see our friend Hayes anywhere?” she asked.

  He looked around. “I can't say that I have. I don't remember him being in the group crossing the bridge either, though I wasn't taking a head count. He could have made it across and then run off. Maybe he swam across. Or he could have made a run for it when we were on the other side. He seemed pissed these police officers wouldn't let him pass.”

  “If he made it, he'd probably still be yelling at the cops,” she said with sarcasm.

  “Hayes was an idiot trying to be something he wasn't. He would have been pretty stupid to run off alone just because he felt slighted. No one can survive this thing alone. Look at us. We just barely made it with a whole army helping us.”

  They let that percolate for a while. Grandma was fast asleep again, up against the tree. She had one arm over Liam's backpack, always protecting it.

  Victoria reached for his hand and pulled him gently from the orbit of Grandma. She set down her new Bible next to Liam's pack, where it would be safe.

  “Grandma's sleeping against a tree, just like you were when we met.”

  Victoria laughed, “Does that mean I have to smash her fingers, or are you the expert?”

  “I still feel horrible I did that to you. I don't think she would like me if I let that happen to her.”

  Victoria smiled broadly; a lovely look, even if she wore too much coal dust and bruises for makeup. “I think she would forgive you, just like I did.” She kept pulling him around the bulk of the massive tree trunk. “There's a question I want to ask you, now that it looks like we might live beyond this conversation.”

  The police and survivors near the bridge were blocked from their view. She let herself lean back against the bark, arms at her sides, and put her right foot partway up the trunk, so her leg was bent at an angle, pointing directly at him. Her dress hiked up a little, revealing her knee, and he saw it was jet black with coal residue. A testament to all they'd survived. Her posture, positioning, and proximity had him thoroughly confused.

  Victoria compounded his confusion by asking, “I was wondering if you could tell me more about the shadow government?” Her effusive smile was contradictory to the serious question.

  What in the hell does she mean?

  Liam remembered their discussion earlier—it seemed like weeks ago—thousands of zombies ago—dozens of departed acquaintances ago—a train ride from hell ago. He told her if she said the code phrase, “shadow government,” he would kiss her on the lips.

  Clueless Liam from four days ago would never have figured it out.

  Survivor Liam of today returned the wide smile and kissed the girl.

  Maybe the Zombie Apocalypse won't be so bad.

  In the moment, he felt alive. Energized. Steady in mind and body. Unafraid of going into the suburbs.

  What's to fear, when you're traveling with two bad-ass heroines?

  * * *

  ###

  Epilogue

  14 hours before the sirens.

  Angie Jacobi was Marty Peters' live-in nurse. She finished her chores for her 104-year-old friend tonight so she could go pick up her granddaughter, Mary Beth, from work. The girl's mom had called and begged Angie for this favor. She knew better than to even think about arguing with her daughter-in-law.

  “Thanks for picking me up, Grandma. There were some creepy people coming into the store today.”

  “I don't know why Cheryl kept the place open. Everyone should be staying home, now.”

  “Well, they sold out of shovels, hoes, machetes and all kinds of other yard junk. You should have seen how many chainsaws we moved. It would be great if they weren't using them for the wrong purpose. People said they needed them for fighting. How crazy is that?”

  Angie took a moment to consider. “I'm sure they're just scared. We all are.”

  “You're scared? I've never seen you scared—about anything.”

  “This isn't anything. This is something.”

  “You believe all that internet stuff about zombies and the undead? I've seen videos from overseas on my phone, but it looks fake to me. Not half as real as those zombie TV shows.”

  Angie steered the car through the evening traffic. Mary Beth lived in the county with her family, but worked in a small corner hardware store near the double flat she shared with Marty. She spoke with her mother and they agreed to let the young woman stay in the city for the night. Tomorrow, Mary Beth would get a ride back home—and Angie resolved to put her foot down about her still working in the dangerous metropolis. She couldn't imagine why her mom insisted she go to work, and normally knew better than to question her about it, but this was different.

  The young girl had access to the internet and what was happening overseas, but Angie had spent time volunteering in a local clinic. She held her tongue about the things she'd seen “disposed of” by social services, but she was sure the sickness wasn't just overseas…

  “Once we get to Marty's, I want you to stay inside, do ya' hear? I have a bad feeling about the direction things are heading. There are even fewer cars than normal out tonight. Something is wrong.”

  Emergency vehicles skittered back and forth the entire journey, giving added weight to her belief something wasn't right. Several times during their trip through the city blocks, she had to pull over to allow the howling cars and trucks to get by. They came and went like angry bees.

  “We're almost home, thank God.” Angie was back to familiar territory. She drove in front of Marty's house on her way to park the car around back. “Do you want to get out here, dear? You can run in the front.”

  “Nah, I'll go around back, walk you in,” Mary Beth said without looking up from her phone. “We have to stick together, ya' know?”

  Angie nodded and continued down the block, turned right at the corner, and was just about to turn right into the alleyway when her car was bumped from behind.

  “Oh dear!”

  The collision was just a strong nudge, but it frightened her and she put on the gas rather than the brake, sending the car past the alley. She finally stomped the brakes and parked in the middle of the street, but then a black van pulled around her, so it blocked the front of her car. She put the car in park a few feet from the side of the van, bemused that they probably thought she was going to run from the scene. Next she wondered if she even had her registration and insurance information where she could get it.

  With a tired sigh, she said, “Of all the things happening in this world. Now this. Can you check the glove box? My car registration should be—”

  The accident caused Mary Beth to drop her phone next to the seat, and she spent a moment trying to retrieve it before turning her attention to the glove box.

  “They are getting out,” Angie said.

  Mary Beth stopped her search to check it out.

  The door of the van slid open in front of them. It was near-dark outside, so it was difficult to see the other party. The van parked so she had a view of the driver's seat through the opening created by the sliding door, but she couldn't make out the driver. Her headlights shone into the van but revealed nothing.

  Angie reached for her glove box to help Mary Beth but got goosebumps for a reason she couldn't explain. The van wasn't just a normal van. There was a partition behind the front seat. It was a lattice of metalwork, like a dog catcher would use. No one got out of the van to exchange paperwork and the longer she waited, the more uneasy she felt.

  “Grandma? Everything OK?” There was just a touch of heightened concern in the girl's voice. “Should
we maybe leave?”

  “Yeah, maybe—”

  Before she could finish her thought, the front window of the van descended. A few seconds later, the passenger threw something at them. The heavy object banged against the glass of the windshield, though it didn't break.

  “What the? Is that...”

  “OH MY GOD!” Mary Beth shrieked.. “That's a person's foot!”

  Something pushed the car from behind. Another van had come up to block them in.

  Time stood still for Angie. A shape emerged from the emptiness of the cargo van. An arm appeared first. Then a head. The creature was large. The size of a very big man. In fact, as it emerged, she could see it was a very large man. He came out on all fours. Sniffing the air.

  He jumped onto the hood of the car, apparently attracted to the bloody foot. He was a hulking thing, wearing nothing but bloody cargo pants and boots. His upper body was lacerated in many places, though the blood had long since dried. He was gaunt, but the muscles stuck out like some kind of sick medical dummy. The side of his neck was a festering explosion of veins and arteries, as if he had been assaulted by a ravaging wolf. His head was skeletal, with very little hair.

  And the eyes...

  Her granddaughter screamed.

  Angie reached over to Mary Beth and covered the girl's mouth. “Shush. He's probably on drugs, or something. He looks crazy.”

  Mary Beth nodded, but had to put her own hands over her mouth to control her involuntary sobs.

  “Listen. I need you to run to Marty's. I'm going to run the opposite direction and draw it away.”

  “It's looking—at me,” Mary Beth whimpered.

  “No, it's looking at the foot. You have to do as I say.”

  The girl shook her head vigorously in the negative. “I ... I don't know where she lives. These houses all look the same from the back.”