Baileigh Higgins
Vera's Vow
Book 7 Death's Children
First published by Baileigh Higgins in 2018
Copyright © Baileigh Higgins, 2018
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, scanning, or otherwise without written permission from the publisher. It is illegal to copy this book, post it to a website, or distribute it by any other means without permission.
First Edition
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Contents
Acknowledgments
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
You're a Survivor!
Sneak Preview
About the Author
Acknowledgments
Many thanks to my family and friends for their tireless support and dedication to me during good times and bad. Also, a quick shout-out to Angie from Pro_ebookcovers for the lovely book covers she designed for this serial.
I love and appreciate you all!
Chapter 1
Vera drove along the winding road at a steady pace, admiring the beauty of the coastal surroundings. On her left stretched a thick belt of tropical greenery populated by birds, monkeys, snakes, and all manner of small creatures.
To the right lay the glittering expanse of the ocean, its deep blue waters crested by the white foamy ridges of breaking waves closer to shore. At high tide, the beaches were reduced to narrow strips of golden sand interspersed with outcroppings of rocky ridges, now wet with salt water spray.
A warm breeze swirled through the interior of the truck she drove, and not for the first time, she thanked its previous owner for filling it to the brim with supplies before getting caught out in the open during a pit stop.
She’d found it parked at a small convenience store, the driver side unlocked and the keys in the ignition. The four-door vehicle had plenty of space inside, and the plush leather seats bordered on the luxurious.
Even better, the cabin in the back was stuffed with food, water, medicine, fuel, camping gear, and blankets. Everything they needed to survive. Without it, neither she nor little Clara would be alive today.
The owner of the truck lay not far from it, his body nearly stripped to the bone. He’d turned, but was in such poor shape as to present no threat. She’d put him out of his misery before fetching Clara from her hiding spot and taking the gift he’d left behind for them.
Vera glanced at Clara’s sleeping form, huddled in the back seat beneath a blanket while clutching a cushion to her chest. She was so young to have lost everything, her parents, her brothers, her friends, even her teachers. All she had left now was Vera.
“And who am I?” Vera muttered with a hint of bitterness. “A seventeen-year-old orphan who’d dreamt of ballet her entire life, finally securing a sponsorship at a good school, only to have it yanked away by zombies. Great.”
Her thoughts winged back to that first day. Or doomsday as she thought of it. As always the last to leave class, she’d lingered behind while the other girls dispersed, picked up by concerned mama’s who fretted about mob violence in the city proper.
She had no mother to fetch her, no parents concerned for her well-being, only an overworked house mother who could hardly keep track of all the foster kids beneath her care.
She removed her ballet outfit and slipped on sweatpants, a hoodie, and a pair of running shoes, prepared for the long walk home. With her long dark hair still tied in its signature bun, she picked up her backpack and prepared to leave. That’s when she heard it. The screams.
They echoed through the empty hallways and corridors, shrill and terrified. The screams of a little girl. Vera ran to the exit while a million questions filled her brain. Who was it? What was wrong?
Her headlong flight brought her to the classroom for beginners, and that’s where she found eight-year-old Clara. Don’t forget her zombified teacher.
Mrs. Parks had the little girl trapped in a corner beneath a table and was swiping at Clara with sharp nails set in dead flesh. Her mouth was twisted in a grimace, and horrific growls issued from her throat.
For a moment, Vera stood frozen to the spot, her mind stuttering in fright and disbelief, until Mrs. Parks gripped Clara by her wrist. The poor girl screamed and struggled as her former teacher leaned in for a bite.
Vera grabbed the nearest thing she could find, a chair leaning against the wall. She lifted it above her head and charged. “Hey, Mrs. Parks, over here!”
The thing that used to be a teacher paused and cocked her head. Vera took a swing at her and scored a solid blow on the woman’s ribs, causing her to stumble. Clara wriggled her hand loose and scurried away. She got to her feet, and ran past Vera, bawling every step of the way.
Vera shot the kid a quick glance before focusing on the menace that advanced upon her with a twisted visage, fingers curled like claws. Her eyes widened at the grizzly sight the woman presented. The clouded eyes, the bite wound on her neck, and the blood that stained the front of her chest. It was the latter that scared her the most. There’s so much blood! How can there be so much blood?
The next moment, the teacher was on her, and it was all Vera could do to keep the woman’s teeth out of her flesh. She backed away with the stool held between them as a shield, fending off the furious attack.
Bit by bit she moved away until she reached the door. With one hand, she felt for the handle before aiming a kick at Mrs. Parks’ stomach. Her foot connected with a solid blow, and the teacher fell onto her ass but scrambled upright with a frustrated hiss.
Vera jumped out of reach and slammed the door shut. Not a minute too soon. Thunderous crashes filled the air as Mrs. Parks bashed her fists against the wood and screeched with enraged fury.
Vera clutched her backpack and stumbled down the corridor, her heart banging in her chest. With wide eyes, she stared at the flimsy barrier between her and Mrs. Parks as she struggled to catch her breath. “What the hell was that?”
Mrs. Parks growled in answer.
Vera remembered the child and looked around. “Little girl? Where are you?”
A mop of tight black curls appeared by her side, and a small hand crept into hers. “Is Mrs. Parks a monster now?”
Startled, Vera looked down into the child’s huge eyes. “What?”
“She looks like a monster.”
“I...I don’t know.” Vera looked around her at the empty hallway. “What happened? Where’s your mom?”
“Mrs. Parks told me to wait inside because my mom didn’t show up after class. She left for a while, but when she came back…” Clara’s eyes welled up with tears.
“Yes?” Vera prompted, feeling sick to her stomach.
“She was bleeding all over and got really sick. That’s when she tried to grab me.”
“Oh, my,” Vera said. The banging on the door stopped suddenly, and the silence felt even more threatening than the noise. “So your mom isn’t here?”
“No.”
“What’s your name?”
“Clara.”
“Hi, Clara. I’m Vera. I guess you’re stuck with me for a while.”
“That’s okay,” Clara replied as she stared at Vera with complete trust. “You look nice.” That was the beginning of a peculiar, yet unbreakable, friendship.
Almost two weeks had passed since that day. Days spent running, hiding, and killing. Vera suppressed a shudder. The killing was the worst. She couldn’t stand the sight of blood, and now, she felt immersed in the stuff.
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br /> At least, they had the truck now. It made life a lot easier, and they spent their days traveling from town to town looking for refuge. There has to be something out there. An army camp or a group of survivors.
Vera sighed and closed her eyes for a brief second. It was hard to keep going. Day after day, all she saw was death. Every moment was a waking horror, and every minute spent sleeping was filled with nightmares. As if to prove her point, Clara whimpered in her sleep, and Vera couldn’t blame her. Not after everything they’d been through.
After they escaped from the ballet school, Vera tried to find Clara’s family, but that proved to be a total bust. The little girl had no idea where to go. The town was a mess, as well, and infected people were everywhere. Even Vera’s foster home was overrun.
It didn’t take long to figure out the infected were real-life zombies. It was quite obvious they were dead, and a virus was in control of their animated corpses. The real mystery was where the disease came from, and why they’d had no warning of its spread. Not that Vera had much faith in the government. The system had failed her too often to count, and she regarded it with distrust.
It didn’t take much to see the authorities had lost the battle either. Hidden in a small clothing shop, Vera had watched as a throng of the undead overwhelmed the police station. The crowd had surged over the hasty barriers flung up and dragged the screaming policemen from their perches to die in the street.
With their victims dead and dying on the asphalt, the infected moved on into the building. More screams echoed through the air. That’s when Vera made her move. She ran toward the nearest uniformed body and stole his gun along with a full ammo clip.
The 9mm Parabellum was familiar to her. She’d briefly dated a boy with a penchant for petty crime until she realized he was on a slippery slope to nowhere. Being with him would’ve destroyed her chances at a career as a dancer. Now she was grateful for the things he’d taught her. How to shoot, how to fight, how to pick a lock...all useful skills during the apocalypse.
After that, she and Clara had made a run for it, and they’d been running ever since. The gun saved their lives a few times, and they managed to keep going until they found the truck with its stash of supplies.
That day marked a turning point for them. Ever since then, she’d been searching for a refuge. Somewhere safe where they could hole up for a while. She had yet to find such a place, however.
A board flashed past, announcing the next town up ahead. Vera didn’t plan on lingering there. She just wanted to drive through it and check for a possible group of survivors. On the seat next to her lay a map. A line in red showed the road they’d traveled so far while little crosses represented the places she’d dismissed as unsuitable for their needs.
None of them had proved to be either safe or to have a significant living population. Vera was adamant in both regards. She refused to settle down with a handful of desperate refugees who were in just as much danger as the two of them. Clara needed more than that. She deserves more.
As much as the child had been through, she remained hopeful, her smile an ever-present beacon of light in the darkness. It kept Vera going. No matter how tough things got.
The first few houses peeked out from between the trees, and Vera slowed down as they rode past. They were well-maintained and comfortable, the epitome of modern living complete with gardens, trellises, and shady porches that looked out onto the ocean. A beach lover’s paradise.
Her attention sharpened as she honed in on the shambling figures between them. Infected. They were everywhere. She’d even seen them outside of town, traveling along the roads in search of prey. Many a time she and Clara had been awakened by the unwanted attentions of a zombie trying to claw its way inside the truck while they spent the night.
Vera shuddered. What she wouldn’t give for a decent night’s rest in a real bed wearing real pajamas after a real shower and a real meal. Suddenly, the orphanage didn’t seem so bad anymore.
Clara stirred in the backseat and sat upright with a yawn. “Morning.”
“Hey, baby girl. Sleep well?”
Clare nodded and rubbed her eyes. “It was fine.”
“Good. You needed it.”
“What about you?”
“I’m okay. I’ll catch a nap once we’re done here.”
“Are you looking for people again?” Clara asked.
“Yup,” Vera said.
“I hope you find some.”
“Me too.”
“And, I hope they have food.”
“But we’ve got food, sweetie,” Vera protested.
“No, I mean like burgers and stuff.”
Vera laughed. Only a child could equate junk food with proper nutrition. Still, she knew what Clara meant, and her mouth watered at the thought of a thick juicy beef patty encased in a soft bun with fries on the side and a chocolate milkshake.
Living on stale crackers, canned goods, and protein bars wasn’t enough to satisfy their cravings. It filled the stomach but did little more, and they both longed for a cooked meal.
Vera patted the seat next to her, hoping to distract them both. “Want to sit next to me while I check out the place?”
“Sure,” Clara said as she clambered over and settled down.
“Seatbelt,” Vera said with a stern glance.
Clara rolled her eyes but complied. This prompted Vera to smother a grin. They were like true sisters, bound together by fate. I only hope I can keep her safe. She’s all I’ve got now, and I couldn’t stand to lose her.
Chapter 2
Vera headed for the center of town, driving ever deeper into the infected zone. Already decomposition and exposure were taking its toll on the undead citizens, and she wrinkled her nose as a whiff of decay snuck into the cab. “Ugh, that’s nasty!”
She closed the small gap in her window and cranked up the air conditioning, heaving a sigh of relief as the scent of pine needles wafted from the air freshener stuck to the vents.
The shambling inhabitants looked the part as well with their grey and mottled skin, milky eyes, maggoty wounds, and rotten teeth. Clara turned her head away with a grimace. “Vera?”
“Yes?”
“Do you think they’ll last forever? Or will they...you know, rot away?”
Vera hesitated. It was a fair question, one she’d pondered already in the deep of night when she struggled to sleep. She secretly hoped the latter. “I’m not sure, sweetie. They shouldn’t even exist, let alone walk around, so I really don’t know. Let’s hope they rot away in time.”
Clara nodded in agreement, her eyes large and troubled. “What if my mom and dad look like that? Or my brother?”
“I’m sure they don’t, sweetie.”
This was an old topic of conversation between them, but one she never prevented Clara from bringing up. The girl had lost her entire family in one afternoon, and she could hardly be blamed for wanting to talk about them, no matter how depressing.
“But what if they do?” Clara insisted.
“Well,” Vera said, chewing on her bottom lip. “I don’t think it’d be them anymore.”
“What do you mean?” Clara asked just like she had a hundred times before.
“When a person dies, their soul goes to Heaven, right?” Vera answered, repeating her theory for the sake of the child’s desperate need to believe in something better.
“That’s what the teacher at Sunday school taught us,” Clara said. “And the preacher.”
“It’s true. When these people died, their souls went to Heaven,” Vera replied, indicating the zombies that flashed by in the window. “All that’s left behind is the body, but it’s empty.”
“Like a doll,” Clara said, her eyes shining with unshed tears.
Vera nodded. “Just like a doll. They move, but their souls aren’t there anymore. It’s not them, not the people they used to be before.”
Clara sat back, staring straight ahead. “I hope so.”
“I’m sure of it.”
Clara’s face relaxed at the warm assurance in Vera’s voice, and she smiled. “I’m so glad I have you.”
“So am I, baby girl,” Vera replied, reaching over to squeeze her hand.
A few more turns got them onto the main street, and the houses made way for shops and restaurants, instead. A few windows were broken, and a bunch of places had been looted, but it was deserted. The only signs of life were the odd stray cat or dog and roosting pigeons in the gutters.
The truck followed the curvature of the road at a steady pace while Vera kept her eyes peeled for trouble. Blockages in the road, car crashes, and potholes...they were all familiar obstacles by now.
Already nature was taking over from humanity. Shoots of green grass pushed through the concrete on the sidewalks, and monkeys gamboled in the trees. The lack of people policing them had granted free range to the wily primates who took full advantage of the situation to plunder the city at will.
Clara stared out the window at the passing shops, quiet for the moment, while Vera navigated. She no longer bothered to swerve out of the way for the zombies. Instead, she nudged them with the bull bar up front, ignoring their raspy groans and the occasional splash of blood or brains. It was strange how quickly a person got used to it, even Clara who’d cried nonstop in the beginning. Now she hardly noticed.
It never got less scary, though, when a mob of infected descended on the truck to beat on the windows. The sight of their gruesome faces and their hungry leers was enough to fuel many a nightmare.
They were approaching a four-way stop clogged with cars, and Vera silently cursed as she looked for a way through. A bunch of vehicles was strewn across the tar, evidence of the panic that had reigned there only days before. Abandoned luggage littered the ground, and blood painted the windows in a macabre display of death.
Praying they didn’t slash a tire on the broken glass, Vera picked her way through to the other side. They’d almost made it when Clara suddenly yelled, “Look!”
Her finger pointed past the crossing to a small shopping center with an open parking lot, and Vera craned her neck to see. “What is it? What do you see?”
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