Ultimate Undead Collection: The Zombie Apocalypse Best Sellers Boxed Set (10 Books)

by Joe McKinney

  Raven cautiously peered over the top of the dash before sitting up. Her knuckles were white from clutching the door handle. “Where are we going now?” she asked timorously.

  “We are heading towards the state line. The route south of here should be the safest, but first things first, we need to pull over and let your uncle in the cab.”

  The roads were still lightly traveled and it appeared people were staying put in their houses. When the president declared martial law and FEMA issued their directive it was still well before the major rush hour. However, the drivers that were on the road had to be avoided because they were failing to obey basic rules of the road. Brook was still very sore from the violent collision with the BMW and she couldn’t shake the vision of the burning couple pinned in the car as they died.

  All of the stores they passed had been closed. A couple of gas stations were open, but the lined up cars were a bad sign. They traveled two miles with Carl bouncing up and down in the bucket before a safe place to pull over presented itself.

  Gravel crunched under the bucket truck’s tires as it slowed down on the shoulder of International Drive.

  Carl gingerly climbed out of the bucket cradling the shotgun. He was green and on the verge of throwing up for the second time today. He jumped in the passenger seat. Not wanting to be chauvinistic, he insisted Brook keep on driving. He fished the ammunition from Brook’s bag and reloaded the Ithaca.

  “That was the scariest ride of my life,” Raven said.

  “Try it from my perspective; those things thought I was a meat piñata.”

  “I thought we were done for back there,” Brook said, her eyes looking up to check the rear view mirror before adding, “We need more firepower.”

  The discussion morphed into how they should get to Fort Bragg. It was decided if they could get to the 90 with no problems then they would have to brave the interstate for a scant few miles before getting back on the less traveled roads.

  Brook looked down at the gas gauge and was overwhelmed by a feeling of dread when she saw the needle pegged on empty. “Everybody keep a look out for a gas station or a store that might have some garden supplies.”

  Raven looked at her quizzically but didn’t ask.

  “I remember that there was a Bi-Mart around here somewhere,” Carl said.

  They neared the 90 and the traffic increased. Sure enough at the four-way intersection stood the Bi-Mart as well as a Target and a truck stop that doubled as a gas station/mini-mart combination. A man with some kind of an assault rifle was protecting the pumps. A pile of unmoving corpses were stacked up on the grass in the shadow of a large white propane tank.

  On the other side of the street stood an unguarded Target store. People were streaming in and out with stolen goods, filling up all manner of vehicles. It was the most orderly looting they had ever seen.

  Brook pulled the truck in behind the Bi-Mart. They were lucky that looters usually preferred to take the path of least resistance. Like almost any Bi-Mart in the United States this one had short hours. When they closed they buttoned their stores up, save for the potted plants, bark dust and bagged fertilizer left outside overnight. The entrances were protected with roll down metal security doors that even obscured the few windows on the storefront.

  “I have an idea.”

  “Do tell,” Carl said as he looked across Raven, in the middle of the bench seat, directly at Brook.

  “Do you think you can figure out how to operate the bucket on this beast?”

  “I’m sure it’s pretty basic,” Carl answered.

  “Then we’re going to break in from the roof, quickly take what we need and be on our way,” Brook said, making her plan sound way too easy.

  “What can I do?”

  “Raven, you have the most important task. While your Mom and I are in the store you will be our eyes and ears. Walk the perimeter of the roof and be on the lookout for walking corpses or real live people. If there are any changes in their number or if they start acting funny, call down to us. Remember to keep a low profile while you are up there.”

  She looked worried. Carl knew the stresses of running and surviving were weighing heavily on all of them. He figured that by simply giving her a task it might keep her mind occupied, leaving less time to dwell on the day’s events.

  There were no undead in sight as Brook backed the cherry picker close to the exterior wall of the building.

  Carl exited the vehicle, shotgun in hand. Back in the bucket again, he looked the controls over. One lever controlled up and down movement. Another was labeled telescope, extend and retract. The third was a lever to control the boom’s rotation.

  He yelled, “Get up here both of you!”

  Brook locked the truck and pocketed the keys.

  They were all crowded in the bucket. Carl manipulated the levers, bouncing them around like they were in a carnival ride. He suspected it was easier to fly a helicopter than get this arm to do what he wanted. After three attempts and a scrape or two on the wall the bucket was close enough for them to climb onto the roof. Once on top Raven started to patrol the four sides of the roof while Brook and Carl tried their hand at breaking and entering. Carl surveyed the expansive roof. A bulky air conditioning unit jutted up in the middle of two rows of skylights. The heavily frosted glass panes were embedded with chicken wire for protection against intruders much like them.

  Giving Raven fair warning Carl said, “I have to break the glass. The noise might draw some unwanted attention. Keep your eyes peeled.”

  “OK,” she called back, then gave them a security update. “The back lot is still empty.”

  Carl raised the weapon and bashed it butt first into the window. The shotgun stock was solid walnut and much stronger than the glass. With a loud crack the pane shattered but stayed in the frame. A couple of well-placed kicks sent the whole thing tumbling down into the dimly lit store.

  Carl contemplated the distance to the floor; he called Brook over to solicit her opinion. They agreed that it would be roughly a twelve foot drop if Carl was hanging by his hands from the open skylight. If there were any undead in the store the crashing glass should have brought them around to investigate. He waited for five minutes and then decided to go for it.

  Raven walked the perimeter of the roof while still keeping a low profile. The desperate people at Target were still cleaning it out; the calm was broken by sporadic gunfire. The people looting the store were now getting violent. A man lay bleeding near his mini-van full of supplies. A woman was screaming at the assailant. He paused in the act of unloading the van and promptly shot her in the head. The undead, responding to the gunfire, ambled in the direction of the shooter. Raven watched in horror as the desperate murderer was surrounded by the dead. He fired five shots, dropping five ghouls at his feet, and then in a last act of helpless desperation put the revolver in his mouth and blew his own brains out. In the end he gave his life for some bottled water, Budweiser and canned chili. She couldn’t look away while he was consumed, piece by piece, by the teeming undead.

  Raven’s attention was drawn to more gunshots at the truck stop on the other side of the road. The good ole boy with the assault rifle bagged himself a couple more creatures. Clearly tensions were high at the Jackpot Fuel Depot.

  The fact that the fire engine red bucket truck with the boom in the air stood out like a sore thumb in the empty parking lot worried Brook. Pretty soon the store across the road would be emptied and she was certain the Bi-Mart would be the next to be ransacked.

  Carl planned to drop in and try to find a ladder so Brook wouldn’t have to freefall to the floor. He got on his belly and thrust his legs through the broken skylight into open airspace. Slowly inching his legs into the void, he paused with his upper body still residing on the roof and counterbalancing the lower half of him. All he could think of was the scene in “Jaws” when the great white shark zeroed in on the swimmer’s legs, only in his mind’s eye it was a hungry zombie homing in on his exposed extremities. />
  He muttered under his breath, “Nothing ventured, nothing gained.” And for good measure, “Higher power, don’t fail me now.”

  Not wanting to prolong the suspense, he fully committed, hanging on with only his fingertips. Carl discovered that he was not as strong as he used to be. He was forced to let go. He and Brook had underestimated the distance; it was closer to fifteen feet from his toes to the floor. Thankfully he had chosen the window over the patio furniture section. His fall was broken by an outdoor chaise lounge with an overstuffed all weather mattress.

  Chapter 25

  Day 2 - Wahkeena Falls Parking Lot, Oregon

  Ike was well aware of the dire situation he was in. He was in no position to be positive. He had seen so much death in person and on television these past two days he was beginning to numb to it.

  Leo had tried to comfort him, but Ike put on a big man act and pushed him away.

  After a few words in private, Cade and Rawley approached the feverish, shaking, young boy.

  Cade spoke first. “Ike, I’ve only known you for a couple of days so I’m having a hard time deciding how to put this. Out of respect for you I have to be blunt. You are going to turn into one of them soon,” he said, pointing at one of the unmoving corpses. “My question to you is, how do you want to handle it? You can do it by your own hand and on your own terms. Or if you want one of us to do it, or Leo....the choice is yours.” Cade walked over to one of the picnic tables and sat down, his head hanging as he struggled with the enormity of the situation.

  Everyone remained silent for a full five minutes.

  The muffled rushing water of Wahkeena Falls was the only sound. If there hadn’t been fourteen dead bodies, the stench of cordite and death hanging over the parking lot this splendid July day, it would have been a serene setting.

  “Will I see Mom and Dad again?”

  “Isaac Jerome Jackson, why do you think they dragged our butts to church every Sunday? There is a better place… and normal Mom and Dad will be there. Nana and Poppa will be with them waiting on us. You go check it out, I’ll be close behind.” Leo stopped breathing and held back tears before drawing in a deep breath and continuing, “I know that we will all be together soon.”

  The shaking was getting exponentially worse; Ike’s skin glistened with sweat. Summoning the courage of ten men, he broke the silence and said, “I’ll do it myself.”

  Not giving him time to rethink the monumental decision he had just made, Cade pulled his compact Glock 19 from the shoulder holster, removed the magazine, pulled the slide back to ensure there was one round of 9mm in the chamber and handed the pistol to him butt first.

  Leo closed the distance and gave his brother a long drawn out hug.

  Ike was failing fast and shaking uncontrollably. He pulled away from his brother, said a quiet tearful goodbye and disappeared around the front of the preschool bus.

  It was barely ten seconds before the sharp report of the pistol made Leo start.

  Cade walked purposefully around the bus. Ike had done it the right way; the back of his head was gone and there were powder burn marks around his lips. Death had been instantaneous. Ike was headed home.

  Cade found beach towels inside the bus, retrieved one, and then out of respect covered the young boy’s body. Then the men foraged for rocks to cover Ike’s body with. They had little time to dig a grave, so this was the best they could do. The gorge had had a lot of volcanic activity in the past so it wasn’t hard to find enough rocks to fully conceal his small frame.

  Leo uttered his final goodbyes privately. “I love you bro. I’m sorry it had to happen to you. See you soon.” He was sure to stack the last rock on his brother’s makeshift grave.

  With tears streaming down his face, Leo trudged to the Sequoia and slumped in the passenger seat.

  Cade retrieved two lengths of hose and the two five-gallon plastic water containers from the truck and threw one of each to Rawley. They siphoned enough gas from the bus to fill both containers.

  Cade placed one of the containers into the Sequoia and conferred with Rawley. “With this fuel, I think we can make Biggs Junction. We should get there before nightfall if I-84 isn’t a parking lot.”

  “We probably ought to find some more containers and poach as much gas as we can along the way. We’re driving a couple of thirsty rigs,” Rawley said, nodding his head at the two SUVs.

  Chapter 26

  Day 2 - Whiteville, North Carolina

  Carl sat as still as possible and let his eyes adjust to the semidarkness. While he listened for any movement or sound, his vivid imagination worked overtime. He was sure there were fifty undead waiting for him in the aisles. Although nothing had started moaning or taken a bite out of him yet, his guard was still up.

  Having grown up in the 1970’s, Carl remembered people ripping off gas in his neighborhood during Carter’s glorious reign. A day wouldn’t go by without a news story about someone getting their gas siphoned in the middle of the night. The garden aisle was five feet from where he had landed. Carl noticed the garden hose they would need if they were forced to siphon gas. He made a mental note to grab a length on the way out.

  Brook looked down through the skylight at her brother. “Raven says there are a whole bunch of walkers coming out of the woods behind the store. Hurry up and find a ladder.”

  Every muscle screamed at him to stay seated, yet he hauled his big frame out of the comfortable chaise lounge and went in search of the tool aisle. Walking alone in the dark store without a flashlight made him feel very vulnerable. The hardware section was in the back right of the store. There were five aisles to search. Finally he found an aluminum extension ladder in the very last one. It was difficult manhandling the twelve feet of ladder to the middle of the store quietly. The last corner Carl rounded had a display of plant food canisters stacked pyramid like. The end of the ladder took out the bottom row and they noisily clattered around his feet. Carl almost lost his footing amidst the rolling containers. He managed to stay upright and stood the ladder on end. It made a lot of noise as he pulled it to its full twenty-two feet of extension. An even louder clang resonated when the ladder’s end met the lip of the skylight. He braced the ladder for Brook while she descended. To his dismay, a faint moaning started somewhere in the store.

  Raven sat statuelike on the rooftop surveying the scene. The back parking lot of the store now had several walkers ambling around with no real purpose. There was constant gunfire and commotion coming from the direction of the truck stop.

  *****

  When Brook reached the floor she delivered the bad news about the walking dead amassing outside. Carl hushed her and told her to listen for a minute. A muffled ghostly moan was coming from behind a closed door somewhere in the building. Cautiously the two started searching for the sporting goods section. As they set out, Carl pointed towards the garden hose; Brook gave him a nod and said, “On the way out.”

  Carl grabbed three large black nylon gym bags from the sporting good section. He kept two and threw one to Brook.

  After a short search, Brook exclaimed quietly, “I’ve found the guns.”

  Carl helped her pick out two shotguns, a Mossberg 500 pump and a Remington 870 express camouflage model with a pistol grip. Carl removed the tags, found the slings and attached them to the weapons. Although he turned the place upside down there were no pistols to be had in the store. For good measure they also chose a hunting rifle. It was a Remington model 700 in .223 caliber fitted with a Leupold scope. They finished filling up two bags with twelve gauge shells, and all of the long rifle ammunition they could find. There were only three boxes of .223; they all went in the bag. Brook picked out a very sharp folding knife. They filled the third bag with canned food, beef jerky, peanuts and all of the bottled water it would hold.

  The moans coming from whatever was trapped were now accompanied by a steady pounding. Carl shoved six of the twelve gauge slugs into the Model 500 and chambered a round. Brook loaded the other shotgun. />
  “Let’s see where the sound is coming from,” Carl said.

  “I think we should get out of here,” Brook countered.

  “I want to take just one quick look. OK?”

  “Fine,” Brook said as she flicked open the pocket knife, “but make it quick. I’m going back up to the roof after I get a length of hose.”

  Carl followed the sound to its source. The noises were coming from behind a closed door with a two foot square glass window inset chest high. The sign on the door read “Loss Prevention-Employees Only.” Inside was one of the infected. It wore a security guard’s uniform and something had taken a big chunk of flesh from its neck. A good amount of dark dried blood blended in with the black rent-a-cop uniform. Carl tip toed forward and peered in the window. He could see that there were handcuffs and a pistol still on its hip.

  The pale faced creature noticed Carl and started throwing itself at the door and window. The moaning from the undead thing rose in volume the second it set its lifeless glassy eyes on him.

  Carl coveted the pistol on the ghoul’s hip and he was determined to get it. When he tested the knob it turned freely. To his relief the dead bolt was not thrown. It was comforting to know the undead didn’t remember how to open doors, or lock them. Slowly, shotgun at the ready, he turned the brushed steel knob and partially opened the door.

  Carl guessed that the undead guard had been rotting in the stifling office for some time. The revolting odor made his eyes water. He composed himself after a few dry heaves. He slowly turned the doorknob, hoping to get the initiative on the imprisoned walker. The creature’s strength caught him off guard. It shouldered the door open and came for him with arms outstretched, its fingers and mouth longing for his flesh. Carl misjudged the thing’s speed; it grabbed ahold of his shirt pulling its gaping maw toward his exposed neck. Carl discharged the shotgun at close range. The walking corpse was blown backwards, pale bony fists still clutching fabric, its rib cage and left arm destroyed by the buckshot.