The Mike Beem Chronicles: 6 Tales of Survival, Hope, and The Zombie Apocalypse

by Anthony Renfro

  “Nice car. Where did you find it?” Becky asked.

  “Long story,” Joe replied, pushing the Subaru into drive and pointing the vehicle towards what use to be a very busy I-40.

  “So, where do we go Joe?”

  “How about the Outer Banks? It could be safe.”

  “Could be a lot of things, but sure, let’s go. It might be nice to see the ocean again.”

  Joe took her hand, and kissed it. They drove without talking, listening to the music, until it was almost midnight. They stopped on the side of the road, and watched the clock on Joe’s watch, which had seconds ticking down on it.

  It was 11:59 P.M.

  Joe took out something from his pocket, and held it in his hand.

  “What are you up to?”

  “You’ll see. By the way, it’s going to be super cheesy when I do it. Just be prepared,” Joe replied, smiling, as Kenny played on.

  He counted down, ten, nine, eight, seven, six, five, four, three, two, one. They kissed at the stroke of midnight, right on schedule.

  “I love you, Becky,” Joe replied, opening his hand. An acorn lay on his palm. He picked it up, broke it open, and revealed what it held. There was a small ring inside it, perfect size for her finger. “Just a little something I found on the way.”

  She smiled, and cried. They kissed again, and Joe reached into the back seat for his pack. From it, he pulled out a bottle of champagne and two glasses (individually wrapped in bubble wrap) along with crackers and chocolate.

  “Joe.”

  “Might as well start the year off in a good way, right?”

  He popped the cork. They drank and ate. Joe started the car a little bit later, and put it into gear. It was time to get back to the ocean; and maybe, just maybe, find a little happiness in this crazy zombie world.

  THE END

  HOPE YOU HAVE A HAPPY ZOMBIE NEW YEAR!

  A Zombie Christmas 2

  December the 23rd

  Mike Beem lowered his rifle, put his right eye on the scope, and closed his left. The zombie he was about to shoot was an ugly sucker. He stood about five feet tall, and was currently surrounded by 10 other zombies – all of them dead, rotten, and ugly. They were currently trying to kill a frantic man standing on top of a closed dumpster. He was waving a dying flare at them, firing an empty pistol over and over again in hopes that magic bullets would appear in the chamber the longer he kept firing.

  Bam!

  The five foot tall zombie lost his head. Blood and maggot filled brains splattered a nearby wall and part of the dumpster. Mike aimed again, and another zombie lost its head, then another and another and another until all of them lay splattered on the ground in front of the dumpster.

  The man on top of the trash bin looked up at the top of the building as the flare died out, and waved to his savior, who was currently in the shadows. Mike waved back as another zombie shambled down the alley towards the man. Mike slung the gun over his shoulder and shimmied down the escape ladder, landing on the ground inches behind the zombie – a woman with dirty entrails dragging out behind her. She turned to bite, and Mike shoved a knife into her skull. He pulled the blade out, wiping it off as he let her drop to the ground, and made his way over to the man on the dumpster.

  The man was just climbing down when Mike reached him.

  “Hell of a night to be out,” Mike replied, as snow began to fall.

  The man fell into Mike’s arms, and the two strangers embraced like long lost friends. Mike pulled the guy back and looked him in the face. He was at least in his mid-thirties, dirty, and dehydrated. His brown hair was matted to his skull, and his eyes were red from fatigue and worry. Mike felt a pang of sadness race across his heart when he looked into those red eyes. They were his eyes the night he lost his entire family. The first night of the zombies. The first night he ceased to be Mike Beem. The first night he became this new guy he was now.

  “Thank you,” the man gravely spit the words out on a raspy voice.

  “Name’s Mike.”

  “Donny.” They shook hands. “We got trapped down here. We couldn’t go anywhere. We just -” He fell into a fit of tears, leaning against the side of the dumpster for support.

  “We?” Mike asked, as the dumpster lid opened and the haggard face of a woman in her late twenties popped out of it.

  Looking worse than the man, she shimmied out of the can and into the safety of her husband’s arms. They embraced – happy and safe until they realized something. A storm of worry simultaneously raced across both their faces.

  The man rushed over to a nearby trash can, and ripped open the lid. He flung out all kinds of debris in his desperation to find whatever it was he was looking for.

  “Donny. Where is he?”

  “He’s not here.”

  “How can he not be there,” Lisa Conswello replied to her husband of fifteen years as she went to the same trash can and peered inside. She then turned over a few more cans, but found nothing but emptiness inside them.

  “He’s not. I told you.”

  “Who’s not there?”

  Donny and Lisa turned to Mike as a baby’s cries echoed around inside the dumpster.

  “Our son, Tommy.”

  “He couldn’t have gone far,” Mike replied, trying to remain calm as Lisa took the car carrier out of the interior darkness of the dumpster. Mike looked down at the dirty baby girl who couldn’t have been more than 4 months old, and then back to the man.

  “He’s only six years old. He doesn’t know how to survive on his own,” Donny replied, about to cry again.

  “Do you?” Mike asked, realizing too late that he had crossed the line.

  Donny got up in his face. “What are you saying? I can take care of my family.”

  “Sorry, I overstepped. All I’m saying is that you guys just don’t seem like you’ve been out here all that much.”

  Lisa pushed Donny back and approached Mike with a much calmer head, the baby in her arms wrapped tight in a dirty blue blanket. The child had gone from crying to sucking its thumb, which was good, Mike thought to himself. Zombies like sound, and a baby is like the Holy Grail of sound.

  “We were part of a group holed up in a building downtown. We got over run and had to split. We were there a while, kind of just got stuck,” Lisa replied, softly bouncing the baby with a mother’s touch.

  “Time goes by fast even in a Zombie Apocalypse,” Mike replied, unable to believe that it had been almost a year since he had made that toy run to the mall. He had hoped things would be getting back to normal by now, but a year later and they weren’t getting better, they were getting worse.

  “Can you help us find him?” Lisa asked.

  “I will, but first I have to get you somewhere safe. I live in a neighborhood that’s fortified and strong.”

  “Is that the light we’ve been seeing in the distance?” Donny asked.

  “So, you’ve seen the star on top of my Christmas tree?” Mike smiled, glad the beacon had worked. “Come on. Let’s get you back to the Refugee Center. Hot food, clean clothes, formula, showers, and then we can find your boy.”

  Mike watched as Donny took out a duffel bag from the dumpster. It was barely large enough for one person, let alone two people and two kids, one of whom was just a baby.

  Donny put the bag inside the car carrier, picked it all up, and then ushered everyone forward. They started to walk towards the end of the alley, trudging slowly through the snow.

  Lisa stopped about half way down, baby girl now resting and almost asleep in her arms. “I can’t.” They looked at her. “He’s out here, cold, alone, and afraid. I can’t go back to comfort until he’s with us.”

  Mike stepped up to her. “You’ll do him no good out here in your current condition. The neighborhood I live in is just a couple of miles away. I’ll go look for him as soon as we get you guys settled.”

  “But –”

  “Lisa, he’s right, we have to get ourselves straight first,” Donny replied, trying
to put the worry out of his voice, trying to stand strong for his wife and daughter.

  Mike looked up and down the alley. He saw no zombies lurking about. He hated to do it, but he knew what she needed to do. “What’s your son’s name again?”

  “Tommy,” Lisa replied.

  “I wouldn’t normally advise this because noise attracts attention, but would it help to call out his name a few times before heading back?”

  “Do you think it’s safe?” Donny asked, eyes scanning the world around him. It was spooky quiet, but he knew that could change in a moment’s notice if you made too much noise.

  “No, it’s not,” Mike replied. “Who’s the one he responds to the most?”

  “Me,” Lisa replied. “Since this started he’s been attached to me more than Donny.”

  Mike took out a gun and handed it to Donny. “Do you know the basics?”

  “I do.”

  Mike looked him over. He was pretty sure Donny was lying, but he needed someone to be his zombie wing-man in case the corpses started popping out once Lisa started yelling. He had no choice, and no other options.

  “Don’t shoot unless you have to.” Mike looked from Donny to Lisa. “Start walking. Call as you move. Now go. We’ll be behind you the whole time.”

  Lisa bit her lip, looked around at the buildings, silent windows staring back at them, like empty soulless eyes. What was lurking behind those windows? What was waiting in the shadows? She had no clue, but she had to find her boy. So, she drew in a breath and yelled his name. “Tommy!”

  Mike looked at her, and then at his surroundings as her voice echoed like it was running around inside a canyon. The alley was still quiet, no shufflers anywhere or any signs of movement in the heavy falling snow.

  “You can be a bit louder. If he’s deep inside one of these buildings he may not hear you unless you do,” Mike replied.

  She looked at Mike, and then to her husband Donny. He nodded his head that it was okay as he gripped the gun a little bit tighter, hoping he wouldn’t be put to the test.

  Lisa looked around, and then just a bit louder screamed – “TOMMY!”

  Movement, as Lisa’s reply echoed around them.

  Mike’s eyes saw the zombie shuffle out of a nearby door. This walking corpse had an arm ripped off, and was wearing a bus driver’s uniform, hat hanging askew.

  Mike holstered his gun and took out his knife. He approached the zombie with caution, caught it at the right spot, and as its teeth gnashed and bashed near his precious flesh, he put an end to it with a knife to the skull. He dropped the zombie to the ground and looked back at Donny and Lisa. They were frozen in awe and fear. Mike ushered them to the end of the alley. Once there, he stopped them from moving forward with his hands.

  While they were paused, Mike stepped out onto the sidewalk and scanned the area. He saw a few shufflers moving about, but they were not alerted to their presence by Lisa’s screams. Mike leaned back into the alley.

  “I think we’re safe to move.” Mike paused, and looked at Lisa.

  She was strung out and worried, as any mother would be in this situation. “What about Tommy? I really can’t leave him out here,” Lisa replied, teeth chattering in the cold, tears streaking her face, baby somehow still quiet.

  “Is there any place he might go?” Mike asked.

  “Home or what used to be home,” Donny replied. “Before we went on the run, and got stuck, that’s all he’d ever known. I honestly think that’s the place he would go.”

  “Where?”

  “The Ritz Apartments. We lived in apartment 222,” Lisa replied.

  “How about this? We go back and get re-charged and re-freshed. Then I’ll head over to The Ritz. I’ll see if he’s there. Deal?”

  Lisa nodded her head.

  “I want to go with you when you go look for him,” Donny replied, as a zombie dressed in a business suit shuffled towards them, slip-sliding in the snow.

  “Can you handle yourself?”

  “I guess so.”

  “Then kill this one.”

  Donny looked at the corpse moving towards them. He lifted up his gun, and aimed it.

  Mike stopped his hand. “First mistake. When it’s quiet like this you have to use a sharp blade or something that won’t draw attention,” Mike replied, as he stepped up to the zombie and grabbed it by the shirt. He tossed the shuffler down to the ground, and put a knee into its chest. The male zombie reached and grabbed for Mike, teeth chomping away, ready to get at his flesh. Mike handed the blade to Donny, and motioned for him to try.

  Donny put the gun away and got down on his knees in the cold wet snow. He gripped the handle with two hands and raised the steel above the zombie’s head. He brought the blade down and missed, destroying the face. Donny drew in a breath, looked at his worried wife, his child in her arms, and tried again. This time he got it right. The blade slipped into the skull with relative ease, and the zombie stopped moving.

  “Good work,” Mike replied, standing up and helping Donny to his feet. “Sloppy but efficient. You’ll have to be sharper than that if we go out together.”

  “You know you can’t stop me from looking for him.”

  “Donny, please, he’s only trying to help. Don’t let your temper write a check your ass can’t cash.”

  “Look, enough of that for now. We can grunt like apes when we get somewhere safe. It’s getting late. We need to get back.” Mike turned his attention to Lisa. “I promise. I will find your son if he’s still alive. I won’t stop until he’s safe.” Mike glanced back to the streets. Still quiet. “Now, time to move. Follow me or stay behind. It’s up to you.” He hurried on, leaving Donny and Lisa behind.

  They looked at each other, then took one last look down the alley. They didn’t want to do it, but they followed Mike as quickly as they could.

  December the 24th

  Midnight arrived, and the snow reached a fever pitch. It fell down out of the sky at an inch or two an hour, blanketing the world in white.

  Mike, Donny, and Lisa hurried through the frozen mess, slipping and sliding down a covered asphalt road toward a shut metal gate. The gate was connected to a metal wall that ran from the left and right, evaporating into the snowy distance in either direction. The wall, as well as the gate, stood at least fifteen feet tall, looming high and shimmery above them as they made their way towards it.

  Mike took out a small walkie talkie and spoke into it when they were almost at the gate. “Cuckoo bird has come back to the nest. Three fledglings in tow. Immediate preparations are needed.”

  “Copy that cuckoo bird,” a voice replied from out of nowhere, and then a second later the gate slid open, inviting all three of them into a world of safety.

  Donny looked left and right, as they moved past burned out houses and cars. Through the darkness, he thought he saw something black moving fast, keeping pace with them. Donny turned back to the front when the black thing disappeared behind a house, and followed Mike into an absolute Utopia.

  Once inside, Lisa turned around and watched the dead and decaying world disappear behind a solid gate of silver metal. Attached to the gate was a large green Christmas wreath, sparkling with silver and red tinsel. She turned back to the front, and looked at each home (though hard to see clearly in the snow) decorated in muted decorations. Doors and lawns and roofs all displayed some kind of Christmas cheer, and in the center of this peaceful oasis sat the largest Christmas tree she had ever seen. It was kept upright with wooden spikes and strings, and sitting atop of it was a large yellow star spinning like a lighthouse beacon. She looked from the tree to their path, and saw small bags depicting Christmas scenes lining their way. Inside each bag was a small candle, flickering bright in the snow and cold. She flicked her eyes from the candles to the baby carrier and the baby asleep inside of it, kept warm and safe by Mike’s coat draped over her, thankful Mike had given it up so her baby could rest comfortably.

  They reached the Refugee Center that was just behind the ma
ssive evergreen. It was a small building with two windows and a door, all decorated with Christmas cheer. Lisa thought it was probably a club house or sales center before the zombies took over the world.

  Mike ushered them up to the door, opened it, and hurried them inside.

  Once out of the cold and chill, they shook the snow free from their bodies and tried to get warm. The room they were now in was square and small. It held a few couches, chairs, and a roaring fire in the fireplace.

  Mike led them over to the couch closest to the fire. “Take a seat. I’ll see who’s around,” he replied, leaving Donny and Lisa in warmth and wonder as he made his way through a door set into a nearby wall.

  They heard chatter, and then a small elderly woman appeared from behind the door Mike had disappeared into moments ago. She held a small tray of cookies and cold water in front of herself as she walked over, set the tray down in front of Donny and Lisa, and made her way back to the kitchen.

  Mike emerged a second later with a couple of mugs of egg nog, and made his way over to the couch. He set the mugs down in front of Donny and Lisa, who were currently devouring the cookies and water while their baby girl slept comfortably in the car carrier.

  “What is this place?” Donny asked, mouth full of a sugar cookie that once resembled Santa holding a pack on his back.

  “Home,” Mike replied, as the kitchen door opened. “Excuse me.”

  Mike walked over to the older woman and stopped her forward progress. He kept his back to Donny and Lisa as he took out a small pack of powder. Tearing it open, he dusted its contents over their vegetables, mixing it together with a spoon, making sure the green beans looked green and not white.

  The older woman scowled at him, but she knew Mike had done all this before. Newbies had a tendency to go a bit nuts when a loved one was still beyond the wall. Giving them a chance to sleep it off while he searched was always a help more than a hindrance.

  Mike took the tray from the old lady and carried it over to Donny and Lisa. He sat it down in front of them, and they quickly moved from the cookies to the sandwiches and vegetables.