Apocalyptic Beginnings Box Set

by M. D. Massey

  The three men were already out of the two trucks, but Justin remained in his seat, giving in to the sickening feeling festering in the pit of his stomach. What was I thinking? He had left Ella to fend for herself, and he could not stop obsessing over it.

  “You can get out of the truck now,” Paxton snarked. It was more of an order than an option.

  “So, like, am I your prisoner or what?” Justin chided childishly trying to hide his fear. The three men walked to the front porch.

  “Butch, take the first watch.” Paxton motioned to the taller of the two men who looked like he might have had a not so successful career as a boxer with a flat-crooked nose, scarred face, and a fresh black eye.

  Justin swallowed back his fear and anger, knowing he’d have to play this super cool to outwit Paxton. Butch perched himself on the front porch, holding two guns and still managed to scan the perimeter with a pair of binoculars. Justin casually nodded to Butch and caught up to Paxton on the front porch.

  “I caught a lucky break and met up with Butch and Mason the first week I was searching for you, Ella, and the teach. They came down from Tahoe,” Paxton said.

  “Did you find Scarlett?” Justin hadn’t meant to ask that question until later, but he was dying to know. Paxton glared at him for a second.

  “Damn Nate and LuLu. I can’t believe they screwed me over like that. I finally beat the truth out of LuLu—after it was too late.”

  “What?” Justin felt his body go cold, afraid of what Paxton was going to say next.

  “Scarlett’s one of them now . . .” Paxton laughed. “Shit happens. Plenty more babes in Vegas.”

  “Dude, are you serious?” Justin wanted to puke and scream at the same time. Scarlett’s dead? A zombie? Really? Wow, he really, really hated Paxton. Play it cool, Justin kept telling himself.

  Paxton pulled up a chair to the dining room table and motioned for Justin to take a seat across from him. Mason had opened several cans of corned beef hash and was stirring it in the skillet. Unexpectedly, Justin’s stomach growled loud enough for everyone to hear. He used it as a prompt. “Dude, I’m like starving,” Justin exclaimed.

  Paxton’s hard eyes bored into him as if trying to read his mind. Don’t underestimate Paxton, a voice from deep within warned.

  “So, am I like your prisoner or what?” Justin boldly asked again. Justin returned Paxton’s challenging brick-wall of a stare, trying his hardest not to squirm around in the chair.

  “I thought I made it quite clear. I’m into women.” Paxton turned to Mason. “Hey, Mason, he your type?”

  Mason’s smile widened as if proud of his missing-two-teeth grin. “Hell no,” Mason said, flipping a spatula of crispy corned beef hash in the skillet. The sizzling-searing sound made Justin’s stomach growl even louder. The corned beef hash’s aroma permeated the kitchen. Justin wondered if the Zs could smell it. Paxton didn’t seem worried about it.

  “Don’t have the time or supplies to waste on male prisoners,” Paxton said.

  “So, where’s Nate?” Justin asked next, trying to find out as much info as he could while he had Paxton talking.

  “We don’t have to worry about the tweaker anymore,” was all Paxton said on the subject. “You’re lucky we found you. We’re leaving for Vegas in a couple of days,” Paxton said.

  “Maybe I don’t want to go to Vegas,” Justin said with attitude.

  “Why stay here? Nothing left but the dead,” Mason interrupted.

  “What makes you so eager to stay? Most people are looking to hook up with survivors, aren’t they Mason?” Paxton nodded in Mason’s direction.

  Paxton stood up abruptly, tossing the chair aside. It skidded sideways on the floor, crashing against the patio’s dirty sliding glass door. Is that dried blood smeared on the glass?

  “Why would you want to stay here by your little, Asian, lame-ass self when you have the opportunity to man-up and hang out with the big boys?” Paxton grilled. His eyes pried into Justin’s skull like a mental crowbar trying to rip open the contents of his thoughts.

  “Ye-ah, well maybe I just hate your f’n guts—hate what you were going to do to Ella and Scarlett. Ever think of that you schizoid-psycho-sicko-sadist?” Justin couldn’t help it; the words came rushing out in a fit of rage.

  Paxton grinned that maniacal grin of his, making Justin cower back down in the chair. Paxton picked up the toppled chair and sat back down at the opposite end of the table while Mason served them each a plate of steaming corned beef hash. Mason took two plates to the front porch, leaving Justin alone with Paxton. Not good. Justin found the tension unbearable. A random thought whizzed by, if only he could find the eject button under his seat. His hands automatically groped for the button. Am I losing it or what?

  “As you recall, back at the hotel, I gave you the chance to be my right-hand man. Frankly, I can use a Zombie Expert like yourself.” Paxton’s tone changed.

  “Ye-ah, but you had Nate. Dude, you were so bullshittin’ me,” Justin contradicted.

  “I was dead serious. Nate was a waste of humanity. Hell, he’ll make a much better zombie than a partner.” Paxton laughed wickedly.

  Justin wanted to puke. The gunshot . . . Did Paxton kill Nate the day they escaped?

  “It was just my luck Nate and LuLu were the only idiots I had at the time. I’m relieved I don’t have to waste my food supply on them.” Paxton paused for a moment. “Come to think of it, LuLu was good for a couple of things—if you know what I mean. I wanted her to teach Ella how to suck the chrome off a trailer hitch.” Paxton let out that wicked laugh again and grabbed his junk. “Oh, Ella, harder, harder—”

  Justin’s plate of corned beef hash went flying across the table and landed on the front of Paxton’s red and black flannel shirt. Paxton looked down at his shirt as a clump of hash began to tumble over, and he caught the clump with two fingers in the millisecond it began to fall. Then, he casually plopped it in his mouth. “Funny-boy, didn’t yo mama teach you not to be wastin’ food,” Paxton’s voice was freakishly calm, like the calmness of the Devil himself.

  “I’m just messin’ with you funny-boy. It’s good to see things haven’t changed,” Paxton said lightheartedly, scraping a bite of hash from his plate. “For the record, you are not a prisoner here. But as Dean once said, ‘there’s safety in numbers.’ ”

  “The government will have things back to normal by spring. That’s what Scarlett said,” Justin blurted, embarrassed he had sounded so juvenile. And why is Paxton calling me funny-boy? It sounds so sick the way he says it.

  Paxton practically snarled, “And where’s your precious Scarlett and your precious girlfriend? You better think about that. We did pretty well for ourselves back at the hotel. All of us working together—doing our part.”

  “The hotel you burnt down . . .” Justin accused.

  “Things were getting too comfortable there. Nobody wanted to leave. Me, I’ve got plans—big plans.” Paxton’s sadistic grin made Justin squirm in his chair.

  “Okay, okay, I get your point.” Justin reined in his rage. His desire to save Ella finally pushed aside his anger and the overwhelming hatred he had for the man. Paxton is so whacked-out. How had he not noticed how evil Paxton was when they had been staying at the hotel?

  “Think it over. We leave in two days. If you wanna play on Team Paxton, that’s cool—you wanna stay here and play house with your zombie girlfriend, that’s cool too. I ain’t no babysitter. No time for that—not in this man-eat-man world.” And Paxton left to join the men on the porch.

  33

  Ella sat shivering on the pavement, huddled in the center of the Best Buy shopping cart barricade she had created. The demons were so, so very close. In the pale moon’s light, she peered through the carts’ grids, cowering at the sinister shadows haunting the parking lot.

  Why hadn’t they found her yet? Does the bug spray thing really work? She had thought it was another one of Justin’s tricks to build her self-confidence. Who’d a thought bug s
pray could fake-out demons? What rule was it? “Yo smell tells.” She reminded, trying to remember Justin’s whacky Z-COS, Zombie-Code of Survival.

  She kept telling herself that all she needed to do was make a run for the Best Buy and then lock herself in the restroom. After Justin had left her, she had tried to do just that. But her knees had given out on her, refusing to work. Then she had thought of the barricade idea. Ella shifted position in her tiny perimeter and bumped one of the carts. A new wave of groans started. Closer and louder. If I’m quiet, I can stay here until sunrise. What rule was that? “They don’t spawn at dawn.”

  She felt around for the pack Justin had prepared for her. She vaguely recalled Justin explaining everything in detail about the survival items, but she had ignored him, fooling herself into believing zombies didn’t exist. Because, if she pretended the ungodly creatures didn’t exist: she was safe. It was a mental game she played to get through the days and nights. She was unable to face the reality of—zombies.

  Ella quietly examined the pack’s contents in the waning and waxing moonlight of the cloudy night. She stacked the CDs to the side and then sorted through the candy bars, flashlight, first-aid kit, bug spray, plastic tarp (still in the package), paper, pen, a bottle of water, and little tablets of something. She clicked on the flashlight, using her body to shield the light. Really? Leave it to Justin to find dehydrated toilet paper tablets. “Just add water” the directions stated. Before or after you use it?

  And, of course there was the dangerous-looking hunting knife in a leather sheath. The knife reminded her of all those times Justin had shown off his Fab-Five moves. He’d been adorably serious with his zombie training. She had thought it silly and gross. I’m definitely not “Ella the Zombie-slayer.”

  A long, terrifying groan pierced the night. Once again, she froze. Another groaner started, and another, and another. Soon a chorus of agonizing groans reverberated in the dark void she was trapped in. They know I’m here: somewhere. She endured their pain . . . their hunger.

  This might help, she thought. Silently, she opened the camouflage tarp package. She draped the tarp over the ring of carts and then tied the cords to the carts, creating a makeshift tent. Then she self-consciously sprayed another dose of anti-bug spray to disguise her scent.

  Ella sat there for hours and concentrated on Justin’s Z-COS in an attempt to focus on something other than the zombies patrolling the parking lot. What is number five again? She racked her brain.

  One of the carts moved ever so slightly. The wind? Without warning, the ring of carts rattled. They’re here! She peered under the carts at the shadows stumbling in and out of the moonlight.

  She whispered like a magical mantra, “No spawn at dawn, no spawn at dawn.” Ella glanced frantically at her watch. It would be dawn soon. Would the demons magically fall asleep? Could she talk her legs into running?

  Could she hold out another forty-five minutes or so . . .

  34

  Justin had been lying on the den’s couch for hours, pretending to be asleep. And waiting for the right moment. Butch came inside, mumbling his watch was over, and Mason stomped to the front porch, obviously not too happy it was his turn for guard duty. Justin had lost track of Paxton. He’d gone to the garage after dinner and that was the last time he’d seen him. He was probably sleeping, Justin rationalized. It was almost four in the morning.

  Justin hadn’t heard Mason’s footsteps pacing the porch for some time. He stole a glance out the front window. The front porch’s patio chairs were empty. Paxton’s truck was parked on the lawn, blocking Justin’s view of the street. That’s when Justin spotted Mason in Paxton’s truck, slouched over the steering wheel. Mason had apparently fallen asleep during his watch. Yes! It was the lucky break he’d been waiting for.

  He couldn’t worry about Paxton. He had to chance it. Like now! He had to know if Ella was okay. She must be super worried. She’s probably pacing the rooftop. She’d better be at their hideout. That’s what any reasonable person would do. But Ella really wasn’t always so reasonable. Not so much . . .

  He slipped out the den’s side window, disappearing into the night. Justin’s bigger problem: he only had a flimsy butcher knife for a weapon. Paxton had confiscated his weapons and his pack. The night was super spooky without a flashlight or reliable weapon, making him feel sort of naked. He adeptly avoided any roving dark masses. When he came upon a straggler, it was way faster to outrun it than it was to de-activate it.

  An unnerving feeling rattled him as if time was running out for Ella. She’s probably freaking out. She hated the dark. He kept hearing scuffling noises behind him, but every time he had ducked into a shadow to see if a horde was on his tail, he hadn’t seen anything except an occasional straggler off in the distance. His nerves were getting the best of him, which was so unlike him. So, he picked up the pace.

  Justin snuck to the back of their Spanish-styled house and found the rope ladder still hanging over the edge of the roof. Did she leave it down for me? He climbed the ladder and pulled himself over the ledge of the house’s flat roof.

  “Ella?” He opened the flap to the main tent expecting to find her. It was empty. He dashed over to the sleeping tent—no sign of her. She’s probably in the potty-tent he had designed, complete with fancy pink curtains and pink towels for that homey look. He rushed over to it. A thud, the sound a pair of boots might make.

  “Ella, you really—”

  There, on the roof by the rope ladder, stood Paxton, gun aimed at him. Threatening. “You think I’m that stupid, funny-boy? Hell, I ought to shoot you out of plain stupidity. Ella, you have company,” Paxton sing-songed like a Cinderella character on crack.

  “Ella!” Paxton poked his head into the main tent while keeping the gun pointed at Justin. “It’s the big bad wolf, and he’s famished,” Paxton continued in a totally whacked-out tone.

  Paxton went inside the tent. At that precise second, Justin took a full-bodied leap into the sleeping tent, sliding to his sleeping bag. His hands found the gun he always kept under the pillow.

  Justin cocked the gun and without the slightest hesitation let off three rounds the instant Paxton stepped out of the main tent. Paxton swayed in the moonlight. Then Paxton charged him, tripping over the camping stove. Paxton regained his balance and stood up. His demented laugh seemed to ricochet off the cold darkness of the night, splintering Justin’s eardrums.

  “I’m not that easy to kill,” Paxton gloated.

  Justin swallowed hard and squeezed off three more rounds. This time, he did not miss. Paxton teetered about and then tumbled backward. Falling off the edge of the roof, Paxton landed onto the trash dumpsters below with a thunderous crash.

  Wasting no time, Justin reloaded the gun. He grabbed a spare backpack (he always had one ready) and a crowbar from his weapon’s supply. Holy Shit—Holy Shit! Apparently, Ella hadn’t made it back to their hideout. Maybe she had locked herself in one of the rooms. He quickly checked the inside of the house.

  Grief stabbed his heart when he didn’t find her in the house. The possibilities were limited. Either she had stayed at Best Buy, or she was trapped somewhere. Or, or . . . Dude, don’t even think it. She’s alive—waiting for you to get off your ass and save her!

  It was almost dawn, which was the only thing he had going for him. The Zs would be in zombie-slumberland soon, buying him time. An intense fear hovered around him like a chick’s cheap perfume, clinging to the insides of his nostrils, and just wouldn’t go away. Meanwhile he struggled over the fact he had just killed a man in cold blood, for no other reason than to save his beloved Ella. What had become of him? Then again, why hadn’t he killed Paxton or Nate sooner? “Because,” he retorted, “I’m not a murderer!” Until today . . .

  From out of nowhere, Justin knew. He knew it like an ESP thought. He only had a few minutes to get to Ella. And knowing it—feeling it—absorbing Ella’s terror intensified his own. Justin broke out into a full run. His heart randomly skipped beats as he
sprinted and hurdled to Best Buy, ignoring the tears stinging his cheeks.

  It was like he heard Ella’s cries in the night. Had he reached his breaking point? Her cries so real, he expected to find her behind each vehicle he came upon. And when he closed his eyes, he saw Ella huddled in a ball—scared to death. His vivid imagination was working freaking overtime.

  Without thinking, Justin yelled out at the top of his lungs, “I’m coming, Ella!” Uh, ye-ah, bad idea. He alerted a mini-horde window shopping at the Toys R Us. He easily outran them. He finally made it to Best Buy and then snuck in the back entrance.

  She’s not here . . .

  A commotion outside startled him. He rushed to the storefront’s shattered glass windows to get a view. In the twilight of the morning, a massive horde groaned about doing their creepy hokey-pokey dance near the shopping cart island. It was definitely a bizarre sight. They should be settling down for their not so long winter’s nap. He smirked.

  A pitiful scream pierced his ears. Where is she? At the risk of alerting the massive horde, he yelled, “Ella!” It dawned on him that the shopping carts was where he had left Ella. Had she stayed there the entire night?

  “I’m coming!” Justin opened the store’s front doors to get a better view of the parking lot. At which point a series of pops—like a zillion pop-rock candies sizzling and zizzling took over the dawn as their ghoulish-heads twisted around without moving their bodies, lusting for him! Seriously, exorcist-zombies? As if ordinary, rotting, oozing, rank Zs aren't bad enough. How do I think up this stuff? He struggled to find his sanity and tried turning off his wild imagination.

  “Over here you slime-balls,” Justin wailed. “Ye-ah, see ya, smell ya, wouldn’t want to be ya,” he rambled on, flailing his arms to get their attention. He certainly got their attention. The horde eagerly jerked the Monster Mash—toward him. But he was more concerned about Ella. More like petrified. Was she all right?