Apocalyptic Beginnings Box Set

by M. D. Massey

  "You don't dress like a college student," she said.

  "I had to borrow these from a trailer I slept in last night. They're too big. I know," he said.

  "What are you doing all the way down here without a vehicle?" she asked.

  Carlos took a long breath and let it out, he would have to tell her eventually.

  "My van ran out of gas and then I was on foot.”

  "I see,"

  "What did you do before the apocalypse?" he asked, changing the subject.

  She gave him a sideways glance and smirked as she gripped the wheel.

  “I was a bike thief in Portland," she admitted.

  Carlos gritted his teeth and growled. "I hate bike thieves. I’d like to punch every single one.”

  She made a shocked noise in the back of her throat, but then laughed and tossed her curly red hair over her shoulder.

  "That's a risk in my line of work," she said.

  "So, I take it you hotwired this car," he said, pointing at the open wires under the steering wheel.

  "It's a skill that comes in handy during the apocalypse," she said with a smile.

  Sasha was a pretty girl. A bit rough around the edges, but he decided that she was probably a good traveling companion under the circumstances. He wished he could say the same for himself. Every time he saw zombies, he wasn't sure if it was real or a hallucination. He wasn't sure Sasha was even real for that matter. But he still couldn't ask her the simple questions he needed to ask. He had no medication to keep his mind straight, and he feared the longer he went without it, the more trouble he would find.

  "What were you studying in school?" she asked.

  “Biochemistry.”

  "Oh, you're smart then.”

  "Some people would say so,” he said, squinting at the rifle instruction manual.

  "Why only some people?" she asked.

  "Everybody has opinions," he said. "Doctors, lawyers, psychiatrists. Everybody."

  "I suppose you are right. The cops definitely had an opinion about me."

  "Do you think it was invalid?"

  "Probably not," she admitted, chuckling. “I ran away when I was fourteen, and I've been living on the streets ever since. I had to learn to survive by my wits. What was I gonna do? Live in one of those shelters with the rapey guards or a foster home with the rapier foster dads? I’d rather take my chances on the street. At least then I didn’t have assholes telling me I needed to be a good girl and listen to their bullshit. I make my own rules. I like it that way."

  "I was homeless for a while. Once," he said, the word slipping out of his mouth before he could stop them.

  "You were? A smart college kid like you?" she asked.

  Carlos began to ponder the experience he'd had while spun out on drugs, living on the streets when he'd first left home. It was the first time he’d really been taken over by the delusions. He'd used drugs to try to stop them, to try to make them go away. But it only made it worse. He'd been taken in by a friend who'd protected him and coached him through life on the streets. Trying to repay that kindness later had only convinced everyone that he was a lunatic.

  "I had an episode," Carlos said, looking out the window.

  "One of those," Sasha teased.

  He snapped his gaze at her and gave her a death glare. She leaned back when she saw his expression and began trying to backpedal.

  "I'm sorry, man. I didn't mean anything by it. It's just that I've seen a lot of cases like that on my years on the street. What happened?"

  “My parents found me and the doctors put me on medication. I was able to get myself under control enough to go back to school. Not that any of that matters."

  "How do you mean?" she asked.

  “A homeless man took me in and helped me. After I got straight, I repaid his kindness by giving him my new BMW."

  Sasha made a spurting noise through her lips and then burst out laughing.

  “They committed me after that. I’ve missed an entire semester of school."

  "Your parents sound like assholes," she said.

  "Yeah," he muttered with a shrug.

  "So, are you seeing things now?" she pressed.

  Carlos let out a long sigh.

  “The truth is, I don't know if I'm hallucinating this entire event or not. I don't know. I’ve always seen zombies. That was my only delusion. Zombies everywhere. I scared the hell out of my sister once screaming that she’d become one. That was right before I ran away from home. When everything went to hell in the institution the other day, I really didn't know if I was a hallucinating it all. To be honest, I’m still not sure if you are in my head or if you're real.”

  "I can assure you, I'm real.”

  "That's what's delusions always tell you," he said with a laugh.

  And then darkness descended around Carlos's vision, and he fell into darkness. He was in the forest again. Shadows encroached from every side, streaking around him. He was unable to catch a glimpse of what they were. He raised his gun and pulled the trigger, trying to shoot one of the shadows. He aimed and missed. Turning, he ran, trying to escape the fear pumping through his veins. He heard a loud crack, and Sasha screamed.

  She pounded on the brakes. When he could see again, she was glaring at him and shaking his shoulder. He had his hands around the rifle. His eyes finally focused on a big bullet hole in the front windshield.

  "Good going, asshole," she snapped.

  "I didn't mean to.”

  "What are we going to do if it rains?" she grumbled.

  "Steal another car?" he suggested.

  "That's not the point. You just shot a gun inside the car. Are you trying to kill us?"

  "I saw something. A shadow, streaking through the forest."

  "You need to cut that out, buddy, or I’m not going to be able to take you with me. Here, give me that gun.” She snatched the rifle out of his hands.

  "I'm sorry, Sasha. It won't happen again. I don't know what got into me.”

  She huffed and started down the road again, giving him tentative glances as they drove.

  "So, this vision you had? It wasn't like a hallucination. It happened with your eyes closed."

  "Yes, I've been having them since the zombies took over.”

  "Is it different from how it used to be?"

  "I used to see zombies roaming around in front of my face. My parents would turn into zombies, my sister, my teachers, the whole world became zombies. And then the hallucination faded and I’d find myself back in normal life. Ever since I left the institution, the visions have only been inside my head. I saw the strangest thing yesterday. I saw the plague being manufactured.”

  "You think somebody created this virus?" she asked.

  "I don't know," he said with a shrug. "I don't know anything."

  "What exactly did your vision look like?"

  "I saw someone making something toxic inside a laboratory. That's all I can explain."

  "But you didn't see who it was?" she asked curiously.

  "No. And I have no reason to believe it was real, either."

  "Why not?” she asked.

  "Because it was just a manifestation of my broken brain."

  "I don't know if you’ve noticed, Carlos, but we’re living in a zombie apocalypse. Your hallucinations were about a zombie apocalypse. If I were you, I'd start to take those visions seriously.”

  "You think that it was a premonition? Like a psychic premonition?"

  "Yeah, why not? Anything's possible," she said.

  "That's the kind of thing they lock you up for," he said.

  "Well, there aren't any mental institutions anymore. So, you're free to be as crazy as you want.”

  "Thanks," he muttered. "I really appreciate that."

  26

  Sasha continued through the Columbia Gorge, sneaking glances at Carlos as she drove. This kid was a trip for sure. He’d scared the hell out of her when he'd shot a hole in the windshield. But his story was fascinating. She'd met some troubled kids wit
h mental health issues on the street in her time, but none of them had stories like Carlos. He'd been seeing zombies in every hallucination he'd ever had, before the outbreak.

  Now he was having visions of how it started. He was an interesting ally, if not the key to the entire thing. Being a thief and an opportunist, she knew that there must be some value in his knowledge. Even if he was a spaz who had no survival skills. Still, it was good to be with someone else and not alone. She had no idea where they were headed as she continued weaving around the stalled cars on the freeway, headed east. Carlos had suggested they travel to a less populated state like Montana or Wyoming. She had to agree that it was a good idea. Maybe, eventually, they’d find some other living humans.

  If Carlos was alive, there had to be other people too. The survivors would eventually want to know how this whole thing started. She knew she was curious. Curiosity was part of her nature. You had to be curious on the street as a thief. They said curiosity killed the cat, but curiosity also kept Sasha fed. She glanced over at Carlos, feeling like he might be the answer to everything.

  She slowed on the highway, noticing she needed to fill her tank with gas. She'd already found a gas can and a tube to siphon gas out of other car tanks. She pulled up beside an SUV with Idaho plates and got out of the car. The zombie mom in the front seat banged at the windows as the zombie children in the back crawled around on all fours like little animals, barking and snapping at her and Carlos.

  "I'm just gonna take your gas. It's not like you're going to use it," she said, using her wrench pop open the gas tank.

  She pushed her hose in to the tank and sucked on the end until the gasoline bubbled up into her mouth. She spit out the rancid flavor and aimed the hose into her can. Eating small amounts of gas was going to be a way of life now. Carlos got out of the car, gripping the rifle she’d taken away from him. He held it awkwardly in both hands, staring at the zombie family and tripping toward her like a newborn colt.

  "Did you have any more visions? Cuz if you do, please put the gun down.”

  "No," he said. “But I needed to stretch my legs and clear my head.”

  "Go ahead, but don't go too far," she said, worried about him.

  Not only had he been labeled with a mental illness all his life, he was a gentle and trusting soul who wouldn't hurt a fly. It made her want to protect him. But at the same time, she couldn't be sure what he would do from one moment to the next. If he had one of those visions at the wrong moment, he could accidentally kill them both. That made him dangerous. Not by any fault of his own, but the strange psychic power he possessed might take hold of him at any moment.

  Sasha had never been much of a woo-woo hippie type even though she grew up around those people. Crystal healers, tarot readers, palmistry. The whole nine yards. Half the kooks in Portland believed in that crap. She’d always figured, if that stuff was real, then nobody would go hungry, and no one would ever suffer, as long as their “vibes” were high enough. High vibes never seemed to help anyone. She’d never believed any of that crap until the world had gone to shit and she’d met Carlos. His parents thought he was insane, but now his visions had come true. Sasha thought, when you hear a story like that, you should pay attention.

  She drained the gas tank from the zombie infested SUV into her tank and replaced the gas cap on her own car. She walked up the road to where Carlos stood, gripping his rifle and staring into the distance as the bright spring sun blazed down on their heads. She looked at his face and noticed his eyes were glazed over.

  "Are you all right?" she said, touching his shoulder.

  He started and jumped away from her, looking at her like he'd never seen her before. His gun shook in his hands and the barrel was dangerously close to being pointed right at her face. She reached out and took it away from him.

  "I told you, I don’t think weapons are a good idea for you.”

  He let her take the gun without protest, blinking as recognition rose in his eyes.

  "That might be a good idea for now," he admitted with a shrug.

  "Don't worry," she said. "I'll protect you.”

  Carlos was at least six inches taller than her and had a good fifty pounds on her as well. But he wasn't altogether with it. He was the kind of person who didn’t seem to have a violent bone in his body. She didn't mind protecting the kid. In fact, she wanted to help him. She was the kind of girl who’d never expected somebody to save her. So, the fact that he was a boy and she was a girl didn't make any difference to her. She was glad to have somebody to talk to. Even kind of glad to have someone to take care of. She had mentored other street kids when they’d first came out on the streets. And it always made her feel good to help somebody out and teach them the ropes.

  "Come on, Carlos," she said. "Let's get going.”

  They turned and headed back to the SUV just in time to see a dozen fast-moving zombies trotting up the highway toward them. Carlos screamed and gripped his temples, falling to his knees on the ground.

  The zombies were only a hundred yards away and would overtake them in any second. She grabbed him by the oversized shirt and tried to haul him to his feet, but he was too heavy. He kept screaming and swayed back and forth like an autistic kid having a fit.

  "Seriously, Carlos, get on your feet. Right now," she yelled.

  That only made the zombies run faster. Carlos continued swaying back and forth, mindlessly moaning.

  She hefted the rifle and aimed at the first zombie headed toward them, lining the crosshairs in the scope. She’d just taught herself how to shoot and knew she was no expert. Picking bike locks and breaking into people's homes? She was without a doubt a master. But shooting zombies? She was still a complete novice at it. She lucked out and hit the first zombie right between the eyes. It gurgled and fell back, knocking into three others that took its place. She aimed again and shot at the next one charging toward them. She hit it in the shoulder and then in the jaw. But that did not stop it.

  "Carlos, we don't have time for this," she yelled.

  The zombies would overtake the vehicle at any second if he didn't get his ass up and running for it. She leaned down and grabbed him around the chest, pulling him up to standing with all her strength. He groaned and stood, his hands still cupping his ears as he mindlessly groaned to himself. She pulled him by the bicep toward the car and pushed him into the passenger seat. She climbed in behind him and slammed the door closed just as the horde overtook the car.

  She turned the key in the ignition and slammed on the gas, peeling out on the pavement with a loud screech. She accelerated from 0 to 60 in less than a minute and nearly smashed into a car stalled in the middle of the highway. She swerved around the vehicle, slowing only slightly until she corrected and continued down the road.

  When she had control of the car and had left the zombies in her dust, she glared over at Carlos. He was still moaning and groaning in the passenger seat.

  "What's the matter with you?" she demanded, pulling his seatbelt on.

  He didn't answer. His behavior was impossible. How was she going to survive if she had to deal with his mental breakdowns every five minutes?

  "What are you seeing, Carlos?" she asked, still too curious to throw him out of the car at a high speed.

  "So much evil," he muttered. "So much death."

  "You're telling me," she said, continuing down the road.

  He was clearly having one of his visions. And until he snapped out of it, he wouldn't be able to tell her what it was all about. He may be acting like someone having psychotic seizures, but she had decided to protect him. The more he flipped out, the more she wanted to know what was going on inside his crazy little head. They drove on in silence that was only broken by the sounds of his muffled groaning. Finally, after they started descending on the other side of the mountains into the wide green prairies of Idaho, he opened his eyes and sat up straight.

  "I'm so sorry, Sasha," he said, sounding genuinely embarrassed and remorseful.

  "What was
that all about?" she asked, opening a warm energy drink and downing half the thing in one gulp.

  "I think I know how the plague started," he said.

  27

  Neville barreled down the road in his police tank, Melanie’s breasts bouncing by his side. The sun was high in the blue sky and the birds sang in the fresh spring morning air. Life couldn't be better. He even had the windows rolled down, so he could shoot zombies as he passed. Melanie had stopped crying and was staring at her lap despondently, which he preferred over the moaning and groaning.

  She even answered his questions when he asked. And not just his simple yes or no questions, she gave him detailed answers when he asked for them. That was exactly the behavior he was after. Given that he had so many people to kill, he was reconsidering his original plan to murder her slowly. If she could cooperate, she may be more useful to him alive. It would be tough ruling the world alone. He would need someone to rely on. That someone could very well could be Melanie. He pulled the tank up the side of the road and approached an empty parking lot in front of a pet supply store. He had an excellent idea of what to do with the girl, to keep her in line and focused on what mattered. Serving him.

  But he couldn't let her forget who was in charge. He pulled his pistol out of the car and slid from the front seat onto the pavement. He left her in the car with the windows cracked and made his way to the pet supply store. He cracked the glass door on his way in and picked up a basket. Perusing the aisles, he caressed his pistol in one hand and held the basket in the other.

  Neville had never had a pet, but he soon would. She needed something special. He walked down the aisles to the obedience collars and found just what he was looking for. A remote-controlled shock collar. This would serve his purpose perfectly. He put it in the basket and continued walking down the aisle, looking at the other collars. He found a choke chain that would suit her nicely and put it in the basket. He then found a long leather leash that he could lead her around with when he needed to keep her close.

  The shock collar would keep her from running away. He intended to bolt it on her to keep her from taking it off. He passed the tanks of starving fish that had begun to cannibalize each other. He stood there for several long minutes, watching goldfish attack each other and eat the bodies of the fallen. That's when he heard screams coming from outside. He fast walked down the aisle and then trotted to the exit.