I’m thankful to have reached this place. Something told me there’d be nothing but a town full of undead here. There are around fifty people here. According to the leaders of this place, the majority of those who decided to hunker down here worked together to wall everything up. They were able to build the walls before things got too crazy. I’m surprised they didn’t turn on each other. Good hearted folks, I suppose. Maybe everyone knew everyone. Living in a remote place with a small population gave some of these people a fighting chance. The walls are ten feet high and supported nicely. Three thick gates block off the undead. They can’t get in.
I wish we would have known about this place a lot sooner. The people here are friendly. I wonder what we’ll be able to do to pull our weight. I guess we’ll help others with what they’re doing. The leaders said we aren’t to do anything until tomorrow. They’re taking their sweet time. I bet they’re wondering if we came from a larger group. We have no choice but to do what they tell us to.
7:30 p.m. February 5th
We’re more fortunate than we thought. I’m going to like it here. Carrie goes with the other kids to an old woman’s house. She tells stories to keep them occupied. Sarah, Boris, Lucy and I do what we can to contribute. I stay at the gates and destroy the undead through the small holes in the walls with a sharpened piece of rebar. After the job is finished for the day, I have to drop my weapon and allow the locals to retrieve it. I’m very glad they’re so cautious. They aren’t stupid. They’re just like me. Everyone here agrees that one zombie killed is one not to be concerned with later. Boris and Sarah help with tending to the food being grown. We have potatoes, beets, radishes, corn, strawberries and watermelons. There are lots of baking ingredients and plenty of canned goods. These people have it made. They know what they’re doing.
I wouldn’t mind doing this for the rest of my life. I wouldn’t mind if nothing got better or worse. I’m satisfied. I’m so grateful for this. I don’t know what will come next.
12:41 p.m. February 6th
This place is a paradise. There’s nothing to worry about. I was told I’d eventually have to go with others on a supply run or scouting mission. I’ll be risking my life yet again. I won’t hold it in. I have feelings for Sarah. Today is her twenty first birthday. I’m going to let her know.
11:07 p.m.
It turned out the way I’d hoped. She feels the same way about me. We spent the entire day together. Carrie makes funny remarks about Sarah having a boyfriend. She’s a good kid. Unless something dramatic happens or there’s something I need to write down to help me remember later, I’ll stop writing in this journal.
2:38 p.m. March 9th
Went on my fourth supply run today. Got trapped in a gas station. If others had not come with me, I’d have been killed. Going to see Sarah.
Not sure what time, March 16th
I’m trapped again. We went on a scouting mission. It went horribly wrong. I went with two people. One zombie came out of nowhere and attacked one of the men. More came in and got him while the other man tried to pull the zombie off of him. They’re both dead. I tried to escape but was overrun by more of them. I destroyed as many as I could. There were too many between me and the front door. They just kept coming in. There weren’t any when we came in. There were none when we scouted the perimeter. Maybe there was a horde coming from nearby.
I’m trapped in the restroom of a small office building. It has a small window. It’s too small for me to squeeze through. They’re all pounding at the door. The only things I can hope for is their attention being diverted or being saved by someone.
Morning, March 17th
No one came. I’m twenty or so miles out. I doubt they’ll find me before I die. The only way I’ll survive is if they’re attracted to something or someone else. I’ll die if I try to fight my way out. All I have is the magnum, two rounds for it, a pump action twelve gauge, four shots for it and a machete. The likelihood of survival is low. I have enough water to last me for two days. Soon after I run out, I’ll have to make a decision.
Morning, March 18th
They aren’t going away. They’re probably not going to. No, they aren’t. I’ve lost a great deal of hope. I’ve had to use the corner to relieve myself. The smell is awful but not as awful as the scent of rotten flesh and guts. I think I’m going to die in here.
Afternoon March 19th
I have one gulp of water left. I’m going to die in here. This isn’t fair! All that grief, fear and effort for nothing. I went through all of that just to die in a smelly bathroom. I can’t sleep. Haven’t since I got trapped in here. Not like I can sleep while the undead are pushing and beating on the door. They might be able to get in here soon. The door can only take so much more abuse.
Morning March 20th
I’m too thirsty. I have two choices. Suicide or death. I’m choosing death. I hope being eaten alive doesn’t hurt too much. It will. No point in hoping it isn’t so bad. I have no idea how much it’ll hurt. I know it’ll be the most pain I’ll ever endure. I love you, Sarah. I hope you get to read this journal.
Afternoon March 20th
Failed in trying to escape. I got bit in the shoulder. I won’t bleed to death. I will become one of them. I took out as many as I could. There were too many. I’m back in the bathroom. They’re still trying to get through the door to reach me. I’m surprised I’m still alive. It’s been a few hours since I was bitten. Figured I’d be dead by now. I feel very weak and sick. The wound is bad. I’ll be dead before midnight.
This isn’t fair. I got so far. This isn’t fair! I guess I should try to relax and die with dignity. I’m going to become one of them. I won’t commit suicide. That’s the coward’s way out. I know God wouldn’t want that. I hope I go to heaven.
I guess my life has come to a sad close. Goodbye, world. Goodbye, Sarah. I hope to see you soon, God. I hope I’m worthy enough to become one of the angels. I accept my fate. Lord, please forgive me for my sins. Please let me be worthy of coming to the heavenly kingdom. For the last time… Goodbye.
25 Miles
Copyright 2019 Jeffrey McElyea. All Rights Reserved.
25 Miles
Jeffrey McElyea
1
Wade was remorseful after pushing through and trampling over numerous people to reach safety on the plane.
“So many left behind,” he thought as the plane gained altitude. “My entire family and all of my friends are gone.”
One by one, Wade had watched his friends and loved ones die. Most friends were killed during the initial outbreak. Part of Wade wanted the plane to crash. He desired an end to the suffering. The sorrowful survivor thought of the people being left behind.
The view of the ground hit Wade hard. Large crowds below were doomed. Another surprise shocked him as well as other passengers. Two large planes colliding and exploding were spotted in his peripheral vision. The aircraft vibrated but continued its ascent while passengers panicked and stared outside the windows.
Unlike the majority of the plane’s passengers, Wade was not so nervous. He was seldom frightened. Throughout his thirty-eight years, he had only been truly frightened a few times.
Wade was frightened by a man dressed as Santa Claus at age two. His nerves were a wreck after enduring his first automobile accident when he was sixteen. He was scared when his best friend suffered from a fatal gunshot wound during a fire mission that had gone wrong.
He was enlightened on the true meaning of terror upon seeing a crowd of mutilated zombies in his workplace’s parking lot. He regretted not watching television. If he had, he would have known sooner and had additional time to prepare for the worst epidemic to strike the planet.
Wade looked to his left. Three men and one woman tightly clutched their belongings and weapons to their chests. It was obvious the four young adults were a team. After examining their body language, Wade’s mind filled with assumptions.
Wade believed the youngest man was brave but lacked leadership skill
s and mental fortitude, that he had been somewhat standoffish long before the zombie plague punched the planet. The other two men were close. Wade believed allying himself with them would be difficult yet rewarding. The frightened woman was the unstable man’s wife or girlfriend.
Ahead of Wade were dozens of loners. Groups and teams were formed almost immediately. Optimism was impossible for Wade. He knew most who were on the plane wouldn’t survive. He’d seen it all more than once.
If the starvation or thirst wouldn’t be their deaths, hesitation from fear or poor decision making would. Wade was thankful to be the fourth to last person allowed on the plane. Thousands of people were eaten alive on the runway.
The pilot was the only person Wade knew well. Wade traveled with him and twenty-six others since the emergency broadcasts and rioting commenced. The group’s numbers thinned often. For every four lives lost to the chaos, a mere two would fill the gap.
Nine people traveling with Wade reached the airport. Wade, the pilot and an angry businessman were the luckiest of the unlucky. Wade felt like a rat hiding in a hole. He hated the three weeks of running, hiding, scavenging and waiting.
Wade issued warnings to newcomers about traveling at night. He and others strongly suggested patience. That ceased when losing too many people fully drained their spirits.
The pilot was the nephew of one of Wade’s coworkers. He was aware of Wade’s military service and how majorly useful a veteran was in combat situations. The businessman was a thieving, charismatic slime ball. He occasionally persuaded the young pilot to make extreme and immoral choices.
A group’s leader did a head count. Sixty-four people were fortunate enough to have made it onto the plane before the aircraft made a hasty retreat. All passengers were oblivious to the fact that several survivors were run over by the plane.
Everyone felt guilty. They had left thousands of the desperate and dying behind. Their fates were now in the zombie horde’s hands and gaping maws.
All on board were quiet. Noise erupted again when two leaders began arguing over who was in charge. Emasculated, the less supported and inferior group leader walked towards the plane’s rear end. Wade gestured for the man to sit next to him.
“This is bullshit,” the sweaty old man spat. “I know my ideas are better.”
“Don’t allow your anger to control you,” Wade said quietly. “It’ll tire you out.”
“I suppose you’re right, sonny. That Arnold fellow’s got somethin’ wrong with him.”
“We’re all imperfect. What’s your name, old timer?”
“Louis.”
“I’m Wade. Well, Louis. I’m not sure if this plane will make it to its destination.”
“I don’t know where this plane is going.”
“I know the pilot. Our destination is somewhere far north of here.”
“What’s up north?”
“Less monsters.”
“Why would there be less monsters up there?”
“Less people live in places with cold climates. Less people should mean less undead.”
“How many others do you think thought the same thing?”
“We might find out.”
“You’ve got the look of a soldier about you.”
“Do I?”
“Were you in Afghanistan?”
“Iraq.”
“Your rank?”
“Lance Corporal. I was a sharpshooter.”
“A crack shot, eh?”
“Yes, sir.”
“You’ve got some good manners. Thanks for your service. Soldiers aren’t appreciated like they should be. The disrespect disgusts me. Not enough good folks left. Hell, there were few far before this.”
“Won’t have to worry about that as much anymore. I doubt younger adults are plentiful now.”
“No offense, but your generation’s packed to the brim with jackasses.”
“You speak the truth.”
“What did you say your name was? Wade?”
“That’s right.”
“We should stick together, Wade. I was a dentist before I retired.”
“I’ll do what I can.”
“You don’t seem to be the type of soldier who’d wrongly take advantage of his country’s people.”
“I’m not. I like to help.”
“What compelled you to stop serving?”
“It was too much. I saw and did too much. Eliminated sixteen terrorists and witnessed four allied deaths. I watched four friends die. I was honorably discharged a year later. Everybody wanted me to stay. I couldn’t. I had become too bitter, too cold. Almost killed a superior officer in an angry rage. That stupid son of a bitch got my best friend killed.”
“Good thing you got out. War can and usually will take its toll on even the strongest folks.”
“You know anyone here?”
“Not really. I know some names. There’s a housewife, mechanic, accountant and deadbeat who have been around. Some kids managed to stay alive as well.”
“Who’s the man who got rough with you? Arnold?”
“He and I had it in for each other since we met at the store. He means well, but his methods always involve unnecessary aggression and cruelty. People follow him because they’re too scared to think for themselves. His leadership won’t last. That man’s lack of compassion will do him in.”
“Leadership never seems to last as long as desired. Everybody wants to lead but not take the responsibilities that come with leading. Wanting the significant role but not when it gets rough.”
“It has been a long time since this country has had a decent leader. Those damned politicians will say anything to obtain fools’ support.”
“Not much matters other than survival, Louis.”
The pilot approached Wade with a frown.
“What’s wrong, Drew?”
“Keep in mind I’m doing what I can.”
“I know. Why the long face? What’s happening?”
“Listen up, everyone! I’m the plane’s pilot! I don’t need panicking! Panicking will make matters worse! We need to work together to get through situations like this one. I’m not much on giving speeches. But, I’ll give it my best shot.”
“What’s the plan?” a man asked.
“This plane is headed north,” Drew explained. “A colder climate may mean less people. That could mean less zombies. It is possible that other people might try what we’re doing. I still think heading north is our best shot. The good news is we’ll escape the heart of the chaos.”
“What’s the bad news?!” a woman cried.
“I need everyone to remain calm. I cannot express how important that is. The plane has enough fuel to reach a decent distance. Unfortunately, there is not enough fuel to reach the planned destination. Planes are crashing everywhere worldwide. I’ll try to make sure that doesn’t happen to us. Right now, communication with the outside world is down. I am going to land this plane in the safest possible location. Come with me, Wade. We need to speak privately.”
2
Wade rose from his seat and followed Drew down the narrow aisle. Wade and the pilot were careful not to make eye contact with the frightened and disgruntled passengers as they hastily paced towards the cockpit.
“Why do you want me in the cockpit?” Wade asked, Drew shutting and locking the door. “I know something’s not right.”
“I want a second opinion. I want your opinion.”
“Okay.”
“Options are limited.”
“I’m listening.”
“I have to land somewhere. Deciding where is a big problem. Without communication with people on the ground, the matter of landing safely becomes nerve wracking. Everything’s riding on chance and my skill as a pilot.”
“And?”
“I’m confident with landing in three specific locations. There is enough fuel to visit two of the three spots. One location is a must. It is a strip of land in a southern Canadian region. It is the last resort.”
&n
bsp; “Want me to choose the one place you turn a blind eye to?”
“Yeah.”
“Why do you need help making this choice?”
“I’m freaking out, Wade.”
“We all are.”
“Just help me.”
“Okay.”
“Thank you. The closest potential landing zone is in Virginia.”
“No. Keep going.”
“That leaves Wisconsin and the strip in Canada.”
“That sounds good.”
“Why not Virginia?”
“My gut tells me it’d be a bad idea.”
“Why do we agree on that?”
“We need to go further north. People will be trying to get away from highly populated areas before it’s too late. The sparsely populated areas may soon become crowded with refugees. Death will take most who travel by road. Traffic is insane and pretty much impassable.”
“What do you think will happen, Wade?”
“It’ll get worse before improving. That is, if things ever do improve.”
“Are we going to die?”
“Everybody dies.”
“Will we die as old men?”
“Probably not.”
“I don’t like the sound of that.”
“The negative reality greatly overpowers any optimism. It’s the zombie apocalypse.”
“It really is, isn’t it?”
“What else would you call this?”
“Fuck. It is. I wish this shit could have waited until I was dead and gone.”
“Same here.”
“Had to be during our time. A lot of the passengers killed people to get on this plane. We’re flying with killers.”
“That might be a good thing.”
“What? How so?”
“If the passengers work as a unit, it’ll be a very good thing. Who would you prefer having on your side? Cowards or badasses who won’t hesitate to eliminate threats?”
Jeffrey McElyea's Zombie Compilation Page 16