Baileigh Higgins
Apocalypse Z - Book 6
Copyright © 2020 by Baileigh Higgins
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Contents
Acknowledgments
Dedication
Prologue - The Migration
Chapter 1 - Alex
Chapter 2 - Dylan
Chapter 3 - Amanda
Chapter 4 - Tara
Chapter 5 - Saul
Chapter 6 - Dylan
Chapter 7 - Big Joe
Chapter 8 - Wanda
Chapter 9 - Nick
Chapter 10 - Saul
Chapter 11 - Dylan
Chapter 12 - Tamara
Chapter 13 - Rikke
Chapter 14 - Alex
Chapter 15 - Nick
Chapter 16 - Mike
Chapter 17 - Dylan
Chapter 18 - Saul
Chapter 19 - Missy
Chapter 20 - Nick
Chapter 21 - Alex
Chapter 22 - Dylan
Chapter 23 - Tara
Chapter 24 - Jenny
Epilogue I - Dylan
Epilogue II - Tara
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About the Author
Acknowledgments
Thank you to May Dawney for the lovely book cover design. You can check out her portfolio at https://covers.maydawney.com. She’s a truly talented artist. Plus, a huge thank you to Graham Rintoul for his tireless dedication to my books, his research, and his input. And a big shoutout to Mike Hansen for his support and help. I truly appreciate you all!
Dedication
This book is dedicated to Richard Ladner, a staunch supporter of my work. Thank you for being so encouraging and making me smile with your witty comments, Richard. May the undead never get their grubby fingers on you!
Prologue - The Migration
Tyler, Texas; 12:48 pm
Big Joe straightened up to ease the ache in his lower back and glanced at the sky. It was past noon already and time to take a break. With careful steps, he picked through the rows of freshly planted vegetables and leaned his shovel against the wall. A chair on the porch beckoned, and he sank onto its wicker frame with a sigh of relief. It was hot with no sign of the habitual morning chill. Sweat ran down the back of his smooth head, and he wiped it away with a hand the size of a dinner plate. “I reckon spring is here to stay.”
“What’s that?” Sandy asked, pushing her way through the screen door that led to the kitchen. She carried a tray loaded with glasses and a pitcher of water, which she placed on a side table.
“Nothing much. Just commenting on the weather,” Joe replied. “I think winter is gone for good.”
“It’s been quite warm the last couple of days,” Sandy agreed with a nod of her head. She poured a glass of water and offered it to him. “Here. You look like you need this.”
He accepted the glass and sipped the lukewarm liquid with a grunt. Not for the first time, he wished for the luxury of electricity and plumbing. Instead, their food had to be dried, salted, or canned, and an outhouse took care of their ablutions. “Thanks, Sandy.”
Sandy walked to the edge of the porch and cupped her mouth. “Xavier, Candy, come on down for a second. It’s time for lunch.”
“Coming!” two young voices replied from a tower perched next to the concrete fence that surrounded the property.
Seconds later, two teens jogged across the dusty yard, their broad smiles flashing in the sun. Xavier dropped down onto the top step of the porch. “What’s for lunch?”
“You’ll have to wait and see,” Sandy admonished as she dished out two more glasses of water.
“Aw, really?” he replied with a teasing grin. His blue eyes twinkled, offset by a deep tan and dark hair that gleamed in the sun.
“Yes, really,” Sandy replied with a mock huff. “I’ll be right back.”
She went back into the kitchen, and Candy sat down on a nearby chair. Her light-blonde hair hung down her back in a thick braid, and a silver stud gleamed in her bottom lip. Her lashes were coated with black mascara, which made her green eyes look cat-like, and she chewed on a thumbnail covered in chipped purple nail polish.
“How does it look outside?” Joe asked.
Candy shrugged. “It’s quiet. Nothing for miles around.”
“Yeah, but it looks like a storm is on its way,” Xavier added.
Joe frowned. “A storm?”
Xavier nodded. “There’s a dark cloud hanging on the horizon, and it’s moving this way.”
“I see,” Joe replied. “Are you sure it’s a storm?”
“What else could it be?” Xavier asked.
“Maybe I should take a look for myself,” Joe said.
“Not before you eat first,” Sandy said, emerging from the kitchen with a tray of freshly baked oatmeal biscuits and a jar of apricot jam. At least the wood oven was proving its worth.
Joe’s mouth watered at the smell, and he readily forgot about the coming storm for the next ten minutes. Only after he’d eaten his fill did he accompany the two teens to the watchtower.
As they crossed the yard, he looked around him with a sense of deep satisfaction. At the start of winter, they’d been homeless, starving, and on the run. A rag-tag group of survivors who’d banded together, none of them related.
They found this little farm out in the middle of nowhere and decided to stay. Throughout the long weeks that followed, they’d put in a vegetable garden, foraged at the nearby farms for supplies, and even caught a couple of chickens that ran wild.
With his own hands, Joe had erected the concrete fence and built the tower for their safety. He’d also reinforced the house and fixed the big truck they found in the barn. He reckoned they were secure enough to make this their home with a river surrounding the property on two sides and nothing to see for miles on the other. They were a family now, even if it was a weird one.
Joe climbed up the ladder and reached for the binoculars that Xavier handed to him. “Where is this so-called storm?”
“Over there,” Xavier answered, pointing at a low-hanging cloud on the horizon. “It’s moving fast, though. I mean, it’s a lot closer now than it was half-an-hour ago.”
“Let me see,” Joe said, gazi
ng in the direction Xavier pointed. It took a couple of seconds for his eyes to adjust to the lenses, but then the image became clear. In an instant, his blood ran cold. “No.”
“What is it?” Xavier asked.
“It can’t be,” Joe murmured, unable to focus on anything but the sight in front of him. “There are so many of them. It’s impossible.”
“What’s impossible?” Candy asked, her shrill voice piercing his intense focus.
“Zombies,” Joe said. “That’s not a cloud. That’s a horde of zombies, and they’re coming straight for us.”
Candy paled, and Xavier took a step back.
“How many?” Candy asked.
“Too many to fight. We need to leave. Now,” Joe said, hurrying toward the ladder.
“Leave? We can’t leave,” Xavier cried. “This is our home.”
“Not anymore,” Joe said with a grunt as his feet hit the ground. He strode toward the house. “Sandy, I need you to pack as much as you can. Whatever we can fit into the truck.”
Sandy stared at him. “Are you serious, Joe? What’s happening?”
“There is a horde of infected coming this way,” Joe explained. “We need to leave.”
“Can’t we fight? Or just wait it out?” Sandy asked. “They’ll pass us by if they don’t know we’re here. That’s what the storm shelter is for, isn’t it?”
“Exactly,” Xavier said, running up next to Joe. “We prepared for this.”
“I don’t want to leave,” Candy said, adding her voice to the argument. “I’m tired of running.”
“We don’t have a choice,” Joe said, rubbing one hand across his furrowed brow.
“Of course, we do,” Xavier said, his expression mutinous.
“Not this time.”
“I’d rather die than leave,” Candy declared, folding her arms across her chest.
“Then, you’ll die!” Joe bellowed, losing his patience.
Candy dropped her arms, her expression stricken. Her lips quivered when she spoke. “Joe?”
Joe sighed, immediately regretting his outburst. “Candy, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to shout at you, but if we stay, we’ll die.”
“What about the storm shelter?” Xavier asked.
“I won’t take that risk. Not with so many infected. If they catch even a whiff of our presence, they’ll break down that door within seconds.”
“Impossible,” Xavier said, his mouth set in a stubborn line. “It’s a solid metal door.”
Joe ground his teeth in frustration. “That won’t matter, Xavier.”
“Everyone, please! Calm down,” Sandy said, raising both hands palms out. “Joe, explain to me what’s going on. I need to understand.”
“It’s simple, Sandy. We need to leave right now. We can’t fight a horde that size, and we can’t hide either. They’ll plow right over us,” Joe explained.
“How many are we talking here?” Sandy asked.
Joe hesitated. “I…”
“How many?” Sandy cried.
“Thousands, Sandy. There are thousands of them,” Joe replied in a soft voice.
Sandy shook her head. “That many?”
“Maybe even tens of thousands,” Joe affirmed. “My best guess is they’re moving up from the south following the warmer weather. Perhaps even coming from as far down as Mexico.”
“My God,” Sandy said with a shake of her head.
“And with every big city they hit along the way, their numbers have grown as new groups join them,” Joe said. “San Antonio, Austin, Dallas… It’s like a snowball effect.”
“How long before they get here?” she asked.
“Half-an-hour, if we’re lucky,” Joe said. “It depends on how fast they are moving.”
Sandy was quiet for a couple of seconds before she nodded. “All right. Xavier, Candy, I’ll need your help with the packing.”
“But—” Xavier protested.
“No buts, Mister,” Sandy said. “It’s all hands on deck.”
“Are we really leaving?” Candy asked. “Where would we even go?”
“I don’t know,” Joe said. “As far away from here as we can get.”
Sandy, Xavier, and Candy rushed into the house, leaving Joe to stare at the vegetable garden he’d just finished weeding. I can’t believe it’s come to this—all our hard work, destroyed in seconds.
His hands clenched into fists. Whatever happened, they’d make it. He’d make sure of that. With fresh determination, he whirled toward the barn and headed for the truck. Sandy, Xavier, and Candy were his responsibility now. “And I’ll be damned if I let the zombies get them.”
***
El Dorado, Arkansas; 01:37 am
Wanda stirred in her cocoon of blankets, a sixth sense warning her of danger. Her eyes popped open at the sound of breaking glass, and she scrambled to her knees. One hand searched for her weapons, while the other reached toward the sleeping form of her partner, Tom. She shook his shoulder and spoke in a low whisper. “Tom, wake up. We’ve got company.”
He jerked upright but didn’t make a sound. The long months had taught them both the value of silence. While he pulled on his boots and jacket, Wanda slung her gun belt around her hips. It contained her Glock, knife, and a spare magazine while Tom carried a Remington shotgun. His eyesight wasn’t the best, and he’d lost his glasses during a previous fight with a zombie. That made the shotgun the better option for him.
The tinkling of another shattered window sent a spurt of adrenalin rushing through her veins, and she shot to her feet. With her hands wrapped around the butt of her gun, she waited until Tom reached her side.
He touched her arm with his fingertips, his teeth flashing in a beam of moonlight from the windows set high up in the walls. “Here’s your bag.”
“Thanks.” Wanda took the proffered backpack and shrugged it on. “Are we running or checking things out first?”
“Let’s have a quick look out front,” Tom said. “Maybe it’s nothing.”
Wanda nodded, but deep down, she knew that wasn’t the case. Something was happening. Something bad. She felt it in her gut, a feeling she’d learned to trust the hard way. Nevertheless, it didn’t help to storm out into the night if they didn’t know what was going on. “Okay. Are you ready?”
“As ready as I’ll ever be,” Tom replied, shrugging his pack on as well.
“Let’s go,” Wanda said, inching toward the door that separated them from the shop front. She twisted the handle and pushed it open, holding her breath.
The contents of the furniture shop jumped into sharp relief, the edges cast in silver from the light that streamed through the wall to wall glass. A large counter stood between them and the entrance ahead. It was a natural barrier to the storeroom they’d taken shelter in for the night.
Dark figures moved past the windows, their bodies melding together into one great blob with many heads. Their jerky movements identified them as infected. Zombies were the only ones that moved with such a curious mixture of clumsiness and determination.
The sound they made was eerily familiar too. It was formed out of a symphony of noises that melded together into one deep, multi-layered thrum. Flesh bumping against flesh, limbs scraping across brick, material chafing on skin, the slap of feet on the tar, and the involuntary moans and groans emitting from hundreds of throats. Maybe even thousands.
Wanda couldn’t make out any details, but she guessed the street was full to the brim with the shuffling horde. Their sheer weight in numbers caused the clear glass of the shop front to bulge inward. An explosion followed as another one of the windows gave in, unable to take the pressure. Now I know what woke me up earlier.
Several infected were shoved into the shop where they milled about aimlessly, pushing over chairs and bumping into delicate lamps and vases. They acted like sheep without a herder. Dangerous flesh-eating sheep.
Wanda and Tom ducked down behind the counter, their hearts banging in their chests.
“Where did they al
l come from?” Wanda asked in a low whisper, peering over the edge with a mixture of fear and fascination.
Tom shook his head. “I don’t know.”
“We’d better get out of here. They could spot us at any moment.” Wanda said, jerking her head at the zombies that were wrecking the shop. “Let’s slip out through the back door.”
“What if they’ve surrounded the building?” Tom asked.
Wanda hesitated. “The roof. Let’s get up on the roof. We’ll be able to see much better.”
“Okay.”
As one, they turned toward the stairwell that led to the upper stories of the building. Wanda had barely taken two steps when her toe hit an empty can, and the clang of metal on tile rang throughout the interior. She froze to the spot as terror seized hold of her brain. “Oh, no.”
The infected reacted instantly, the sound like a dinner bell to their empty bellies. They rushed toward the couple with vicious snarls, a school of sharks after two sardines. Wanda stared at them, and for a moment, all else faded away. She knew she should move but couldn’t. Even Tom’s frantic screams didn’t help. Death was coming for her.
“Shit, Wanda. Run!” Tom cried, shoving her from behind.
His push was enough to get her moving, and she vaulted up the stairs two at a time. Tom followed, his breath hot on the nape of her neck. At the top, she paused to look back, and her knees grew weak at the sight.
Scores of infected thronged the shop, a tidal wave of bodies that broke upon the stairwell’s foot. As clumsy as they were, the steps wouldn’t deter them for long, especially when they began crawling over each other like ants.
“Keep going,” Tom said, tugging on her arm. “We have to get to the top. It’s our only chance.”
He was right, and Wanda followed him up several floors until they hit the emergency access to the roof. It was a heavy metal door set in a solid frame. Its hinges were oiled, and it swung open with ease. That was no accident, but part of the precautions they’d taken earlier.
Tom slammed it shut once they were through and jammed the lock in place. After a couple of hard tugs, he grunted with approval. “That should hold.”
Rise of the Undead (Book 6): Apocalypse Z Page 1