Apoc Series (Vol. 2): Silence of the Apoc [Tales From The Zombie Apocalypse]

by Wilsey, Martin (Editor)

  As the restaurant’s automatic doors opened, Madame Ikeda shuffled toward the group, her intestines tangled around her legs.

  “We should have cut off your head,” Isamu remarked. As he passed, he sliced the top of her head off. The skullcap spun like a Frisbee to the ground.

  As they moved quickly past the guest services counter, they saw Nitta and Souta feeding. The two former Tohno Clan members took notice of the group’s flight. Two zombies would not be difficult to dispatch, but then the elevator door opened, revealing three topless strippers and Hamasaki, who also noticed the fleeing fresh meat. The small-breasted girl dropped the arm she carried in the hallway as and joined zombies Souta and Nitta in their pursuit of a better meal.

  Observing the discarded arm, Hamasaki discontinued his pursuit and took up the partially eaten appendage and bit into it, tearing at the remaining flesh.

  The group hurried to the door. Matsui pushed on it, but it was locked. He quickly released the mechanism and pushed the door again, but it was jammed.

  “It’s jammed,” he announced, putting a shoulder to it to force it open.

  “Boss, your katana,” Matsumoto requested. “I’ll hold them off.”

  Isamu handed him the sword, and with wakizashi in one hand and katana in the other, Matsumoto moved toward the encroaching zombie pack.

  Matsui and Kimura pushed on the door as Tohno walked away, heading to aid Matsumoto.

  “Where are you going?” Isamu demanded. Tohno did not answer.

  As Tohno approached the Kudo enforcer, Matsumoto decapitated Souta.

  “I’ll help. Give me the katana,” Tohno told the man.

  Without thought, Matsumoto handed Tohno a blade.

  At the entry, Kimura and Matsui had finally smashed the door open. Isamu turned to Matsumoto and Tohno and shouted, “Let’s go!”

  Tohno ran his sword through the chest of one of the partially nude girls, and shouted back, “Coming!”

  Matsumoto had noticed his enemy’s ineptness at killing the undead. “In the head, like this,” he illustrated, driving his wakizashi into Nitta’s eye socket.

  ***

  From the path, Matsui moved cautiously to the low-lit, bullet-destroyed street that was punctuated with corpses. He checked both directions, but only saw a few undead moving in the distance.

  He crossed to the partially destroyed parking lot.

  ***

  Matsumoto unwittingly had handed Tohno the katana without believing that the clan leader would be that dimwitted to challenge him with it, but he had underestimated Tohno’s treachery. Gaku drove his sword through the enforcer’s leg and Matsumoto collapsed.

  “That’s for Yazawa,” he told him, in a tone that reflected retribution. “And for making me zombie bait.” As he departed, he let Matsumoto know, “Now it’s your turn.”

  Three topless strippers descended on Toshiyuki Matsumoto.

  ***

  Hiroki Matsui stood on the path near the building’s eave. He gestured to his superiors, giving them notice it was safe to advance, just as Tohno stepped out of the entryway.

  “Hurry. Only a few zombies down the street,” he urged the men.

  From out of the shrubbery stepped Naoki, the katana still lodged in his mouth. Matsui saw his approach and took his baseball bat and swung an upper cut, which forced the sword to pitch up and slice Naoki’s head in two.

  He turned back to the entry and gestured again. As he motioned, Mr. Tada came out of the shrubbery and grabbed him, forcing him to the ground.

  Kimura rushed to his aid, but Mr. Tada had already ripped out Matsui’s throat. Hiroki Matsui twitched with a glassy look of fear in his eyes and gasped for air, as Mr. Tada continued to feed on him.

  First lieutenant Kimura shot Tada in the head, splattering chunks of brain and a mist of blood into the air. Mr. Tada collapsed atop Matsui. Akira Kimura looked at the junior. Blood and air bubbled out of his gaping throat wound. Akira put him out of his pain.

  Under the eave, Gaku stepped forward and was about to step onto the path when Isamu grabbed his arm.

  “Where’s Matsumoto?” he asked.

  Indifferently, Gaku informed him, “Dead. Some strippers got him.”

  “Bullshit! Not even a dozen dead strippers could kill him.”

  “Then go check for yourself,” Gaku told Isamu. “He sacrificed himself so I could escape.”

  Gaku pulled away and headed up the path.

  Isamu paused when he came to Masahito Tada and Hiroki Matsui. He looked at the mutilated government official, and remarked, “Cosmic irony or karmic justice? Either, or the gods are just.” He then put his sights to his fallen man, Matsui. The junior’s baseball bat lay near him. Isamu smiled.

  At the path’s edge that bordered the street, Kimura checked both directions to make sure there were no zombies to contend with before crossing to the parking lot. The breaking dawn revealed that the immediate area was devoid of the living dead. The group quickly crossed to the other side.

  The parking lot had been struck by several rockets, which destroyed not only the lot’s paving but also some of its contents.

  “You still have a car?” Isamu questioned.

  Gaku pointed with his katana to an area that contained no destruction, and then pointed a key fob at a black Lexus LS Sport Vertex. The lights flashed and the vehicle alarm beeped twice. At that the moment, Isamu exacted his revenge.

  As the last beep of the car alarmed signaled the vehicle’s location, Isamu swung Matsui’s baseball bat into the clan leader’s ribs, fracturing them and painfully forcing the air from his lungs. As Gaku faltered, Isamu swung again, this time in the back of the man’s left knee, sending him crashing to the ground.

  Gaku tried to scream out from the immense pain, but he could barely take a breath. He moaned and gasped for air, not even able to look at his assailant.

  “This is my revenge,” Isamu announced, looking down at the incapacitated clan leader and pointed the bat at him. Isamu raised the bat and came down with it like a man trying to ring the bell on a carnival strongman game. The impact broke Gaku’s leg.

  “Jigô-jitoku,” he told the traitor, and tossed the bat down next to him. “Now you are zombie food.”

  Twenty zombies moved towards the car, having been attracted by the sedan’s locator signal. Kimura picked up the dropped keys.

  ***

  The arm Hamasaki fed on was now stripped to the bone. He dropped it and walked towards the entry. He passed a pile of dead topless zombie strippers, never noticing the semi-fresh meat under it.

  VI. Revenge Proves Its Own Executioner

  It was a necessity to quickly get back to Nin Jin House and to his daughter Nozomi. Chief Yamada would never ignore a call from his boss, unless something dreadful had happened.

  Akira drove, taking an alternate and more direct route back to the city and to headquarters. Remarkably, along the short trip back, they had only seen a few living dead wandering around. As they neared their destination they saw the surrounding neighborhood had been partially leveled by JSDF rockets, and the area now seemed to be abandoned.

  As they pulled the car in front of their headquarters, morning had arrived, and there was no sign of the guards who were always stationed outside their establishment.

  “Something is wrong,” Akira stated with trepidation. “There are no guards.”

  Isamu wasn’t as concerned about the guards as he was about what else was missing. “There are no people,” he observed. “No bodies, no zombies. Not even a squawking crow.”

  “Maybe everyone was evacuated.”

  “They don’t evacuate crows,” his boss told him.

  Isamu moved cautiously towards the entry, holding the antiretroviral in one hand and his pistol in the other. Kimura followed.

  Entering the building, the two checked the reception area and parlor, but the floor was devoid of anyone living or undead. They continued up one flight to the first hotel room level.

  “Check the roo
ms,” Isamu told him. “But be careful. I’m going to find Nozomi.”

  “Boss, I have a bad feeling. We should stay together.”

  “I feel it, too. But I need to find Nozomi. Now go,” Isamu ordered him.

  “Hai,” the first lieutenant replied, bowing slightly and then headed down the hall.

  Isamu headed to the fourth floor.

  The clan leader phoned his chief again, but it went to voice mail. He moved quickly to Nozomi’s bedroom, but she was gone. The Thumper plush toy lay atop the disheveled bed.

  Akira Kimura did not find anyone in any room, neither dead nor living, which concerned him. Not because the rooms had been emptied, but because of what had been left behind. He couldn’t believe that even in a state of panic, so many clients would have left their personal belongings behind. He headed up to headquarters level.

  ***

  Isamu stood in his office near a large open safe with his back to the partly open door. He had changed out of his soiled clothes and into a tailored suit. A noise came from the parlor. He turned, grabbed his pistol from the nearby desk, and aimed it at the door. From the other side rose a voice.

  “Boss? Boss!”

  It was his first lieutenant.

  “In here, Kimura.”

  “Boss,” he said again, as he pushed the door open and stepped in. “There’s no one here. Maybe they went to the safe house.”

  “No.” Isamu picked up the Thumper plush toy from atop the desk and held it out. “This was from her mother. Nozomi would never have left it. Yamada knows this. He would have made sure she had it.”

  “Perhaps there was no time. They are probably at the safe house,” Kimura said. “We will take it to her.”

  “Take some ammo from the safe. Then we’ll get some food and sake and head to the mountain house. But you should change first. Your clothes are bloody,” Isamu told his lieutenant.

  Stepping out the door, the clan leader, with Thumper in hand, and his subordinate descended the stairs and headed to the basement where the bar/restaurant was located.

  Looking into the pitch-black establishment, Kimura told his boss, “I’ll get the lights,” and then stepped through the archway and to the nearby light switch, but there was no power. “Breakers must be out,” he said, as he stepped into the light of the stairway. “I can go look.”

  “Do you have a flashlight?” Isamu asked his lieutenant.

  “No, but I can use my cell phone.”

  “Maybe we should forget it. It’s too dark.”

  “I know where they are,” Akira said. “In the kitchen. Besides we need supplies. It’s a long journey to the mountain house.”

  “Okay, but be careful,” Isamu warned.

  Akira disappeared into the darkness, as Isamu stood by the entry straining to hear. After a moment came a muffled thud, like something hitting the floor.

  “Kimura. Kimura,” Isamu called out, concerned for his subordinate’s welfare.

  “Moushiwakearimasen,” Akira called back. “I’m okay. Just a chair.”

  The light from a cell phone screen illuminated Kimura’s face. He touched the screen and activated his flashlight app, turning on the phone’s camera flash. Akira pointed the light outward, using it to guide himself to the kitchen doors.

  ***

  In the archway of the entry, Isamu dialed his cell phone.

  ***

  In the kitchen Akira’s cell phone light illuminated the breaker box. He engaged the handle. The kitchen lights came on.

  ***

  At the doorway, Isamu put his cell phone to his ear. From the stairs he could see the restaurant was lit. “Very good, Kimura!” he shouted out, congratulating his lieutenant.

  ***

  From the other side of the kitchen doors, Kimura heard a ringing cell phone. He stepped through the doors into the restaurant.

  ***

  From inside the restaurant, Isamu, too, heard the ringing of the cell phone. He stepped through the archway and into the room.

  ***

  As Kimura stepped through the swinging doors, he was confronted with a pack of zombies. In the front of the group were Chief Yamada and Senior Advisor Otsumi. Yamada’s cell phone was ringing.

  On the other side of the room, Isamu saw the group but for a moment did not realize that they were no longer living.

  “Kimura! They’re here!” Isamu’s shout turned some of the pack around. He realized his men were undead. “Kimura! Zombies!” he warned.

  “Run!” Akira yelled, grabbing for his pistol as Shigeru Yamada and Kuniyoshi Otsumi set upon him.

  Isamu saw his seniors drag Kimura down, and then he saw the remainder of the pack, led by bodyguard Yuji Osawa, coming for him. In his haste to retreat, he dropped Thumper. Reaching the top of the stairs, he heard two shots from inside the restaurant. Isamu turned back, but there was nothing to be done. The zombies were now climbing the stairs.

  Fleeing from the building, Isamu headed to the Lexus. Opening the door he saw the keys were not in the ignition, nor were they above the driver side visor or in the storage compartment between the two seats—they were with Akira. Isamu knew he could not go back into Nin Jin house to retrieve them. However, he knew of another vehicle that he could use to make his escape—his own.

  Isamu knew that the keys would be where he always stashed them—in the storage compartment between the front seats—and that with its keyless-go ignition system all he had to do was to input a security code and push a button to start the vehicle. He also knew that his black Mercedes S65 AMG sedan would be where it was always parked, on the side street with its doors unlocked. No one, not even the lowest thief, would even consider stealing a yakuza boss’s car.

  As he neared his vehicle, he saw that a heavy coating of dust had settled on it. He shook his head with disbelief and dissatisfaction. No yakuza boss would ever be seen in a vehicle that wasn’t freshly washed and polished to a high-gloss shine. It would be disgraceful and show that he had no class if he was seen in a car in such a state. With disgust, Isamu opened the door and stepped in behind the wheel. He knew there was nothing that could be done under the circumstances, but that didn’t make his embarrassment any less.

  As he shut the door, a hand thrust in between the front seats from the back, and grabbed onto his arm, pulling it back.

  Startled, Isamu cried out, “Shit!” It was a word that he seldom used.

  A head popped out between the seats and bit into him. Isamu violently and repeatedly punched the familiar face, until the zombie let go. Isamu stumbled from the car, nearly falling to the street. He pulled his pistol from his waistband and looked back to the sedan. From between the front seats he saw the young boy who he had hired to keep his car properly clean. The lad was just thirteen years of age and not much older than Isamu had been when he had had the honor of earning money by keeping a yakuza boss’s car tidy and presentable.

  The undead boy crawled between the bucket seats, out the passenger door, and onto the street.

  “Tomio. You couldn’t clean my car before you became a zombie?” Isamu asked the boy, knowing full well Tomio did not understand. “This is unforgivable. Kono Bakagakiga.”

  The boy rose and moved toward him.

  Isamu aimed his pistol and pulled the trigger. The bullet tore through the youngster’s throat and ricocheted off the edge of the vehicle’s roof.

  “I hate zombies,” Isamu angrily screamed, upset over the car damage, as he moved forward with raised pistol. “Go to hell!” he told zombie Tomio, and then pulled the trigger again. The bullet exploded the lad’s skull.

  Sitting in his sedan with the doors locked, he looked down at the vial of serum and syringe he held in his hand. He no longer had a choice. The antiretroviral his clansmen had died retrieving was no longer going to save those he promised to take care of. If he were to survive and find his daughter, he knew he would have to inject himself. His bitten hand trembled as he inserted the needle into the vial and extracted a whole syringe full of the l
iquid, and then took the hypodermic in his left and injected half its serum into the vein of his left arm. He paused for a moment and then tucked vial and hypodermic in an outer suit jacket pocket. After reloading his pistol, he set the box of ammunition on the passenger seat and drove away.

  ***

  He turned from the side street onto the main road in front of Nin Jin House. He had not driven more than twenty-five feet past the building when he had to quickly brake. His daughter stood before him holding her Thumper and blocking his path.

  “Nozomi, Nozomi,” he called to her. As he exited the vehicle, he pulled the half-filled syringe from his pocket. The girl stood silent, her head bowed and her long hair hanging over her features. He grabbed his daughter and hugged her closely, but she did not respond to his embrace. “Nozomi!” he cried. “What is wrong?” He raised her chin and brushed the hair from her face. That is when he saw, but it was too late. Nozomi bit into his cheek and pulled a piece of flesh away. Isamu reeled back, landing on the roadway. His daughter lunged at him and he reacted, stabbing the syringe into her eye and depressing the plunger.

  His eight-year-old daughter stood motionless for a moment, and then began to convulse. Flopping to the pavement, the child shook and contorted.

  “Nozomi!” Isamu cried.

  He scooped his daughter into his arms and held the tremulous child.

  “Forgive me,” Isamu begged of his daughter.

  After a moment, the tremors stopped, and his daughter spoke. “Let me go,” she demanded, in a raspy tone that indicated displeasure.

  Isamu pushed her away, her voice frightening him. She had never spoken so harshly to anyone. But she was speaking, so he believed that the antiretroviral must have had an effect. But he was wrong. A look of shock and terror came over his face. He stumbled back in retreat as Nozomi rose up with a ghastly, evil look.

  He turned toward the Mercedes, but those from the basement restaurant now surrounded it. The undead stood silent and nearly motionless, staring at him. He began to slowly step backwards, and as he turned, Nozomi’s voice rose again.