Days With The Undead (Book 1)

by Snow, Julianne

  The truck is getting a little beat up but I made sure that the tires were strong and durable and that the body of the vehicle was solid before choosing it. Being a 4×4 helps a bit too… You never know when you’ll need a little off-road or over-Undead action. Perhaps the post-apocalyptic GM or Jeep advert should highlight that requisite safety feature.

  It was while driving through Clinton, Oklahoma that we witnessed the strangest thing. I guess in times of severe stress and confusion, where there are no easy or readily available answers, people turn to reason and logic of their own making. But not the kind of reason that is reasonable, logical, or even sane for lack of a better word.

  When we saw them on the street we must have stopped the car and sat there looking at them for at least a half hour. Just watching with incredulous looks on our faces, not knowing what to say to each other. Starting a word or a sentence and then letting it trail off.

  Sometimes there are just no words to describe what cannot be adequately described. I will however attempt to put into words what we saw today, only because you may need to know what not to do.

  At what point to people actually pass from just being stupidly informed to being actually stupid? I do understand the mob mentality. It happens in all kinds of situations and I’ve seen it’s after-effects in my morgue. But this was just insanity in its purest form.

  They stood on the street corner with their signs and page boards. Dressed in their Sunday best, some holding their bibles high as if in protest. Their countenances almost defiant in their hatred of the Undead. For a moment, you could almost laugh at the stupid singularity of their message. They carried signs that were almost hilarious in their injudiciousness. Signs that read:

  “Go Back to Hell!”

  “Undead is NOT a Life”

  “Just Die! AGAIN!”

  “The World Cannot Support the Existentially Challenged”

  “Why Don’t You All Just Biodegrade Away?”

  They were set up on the street. No protection. No guns. Just the signs.

  A good old fashioned protest. Like that was going to save the world.

  As we sat there observing them, an overwhelming urge to shake some sense into them overcame me. Not willing to leave the safety of the truck, I rolled down my window and shouted until I got their attention. It wasn’t an easy task as they were quite intent on what they were trying to do. I knew that they weren’t shouting or carrying on like you may have seen on picket lines during strikes but I could see their lips moving in unison. The sound didn’t carry as far as our truck but I surmised that they were either singing or praying.

  Praying is a good thing, especially in times like these, but what they were doing defied all rational though. I managed to get the attention of one of them and she came over to the truck, probably thinking that they were gaining some converts.

  She was a young woman, quite plain in her manner of dress but with an exquisite face. She smiled at us and asked if we had heard the news about the recent “uprisings from hell” that the Devil had spawned. From the way that she spoke, you could tell that she meant every word of what she said. Someone had certainly brainwashed her and done a very good job.

  I tried to impress upon her the utter insanity of what she was saying and what her group was doing, without using those exact words of course. The indoctrination was so deeply ingrained however that I couldn’t get through to her in the few minutes that I dared to spend with her. I knew that the Undead were behind us, I just didn’t know how far out they were by this point.

  We didn’t have all that long to wait. As I was trying my damnedest to get the young girl to recognize the error of her ways, Ben noticed them stumbling up the street behind us. The urgency in his voice was palpable. I looked to the young girl, implored her to get herself and her friends inside but she would have none of it.

  Seeing the Undead coming down the street, she ran back over to her friends and resumed what I’m now assuming to have been a prayer. The started shaking their signs and their bibles at the advancing horde. It was an unlucky move; the Undead hadn’t been fixated on them but with the commotion that they caused, their attention shifted and became directed toward them.

  When the Undead found them, they tried shouting at them to go back to Hell. As they attacked the protesters, you could almost see the recognition in their faces of how stupid they had really been.

  It didn’t take the Undead long to kill each and every one of them. One man, who at first glance had appeared to be the biggest zealot of them all, was the last to go down. He had enough sense at least to run when the Undead started to attack. They still managed to overtake him however, the sign still firmly clenched in his hands. When he got back up, he was still clenching the sign but within a moment the newly dead hands went slack and the sign tumbled to the ground.

  The thing about the Undead is that their only genetic instruction is to assimilate. Did they really think that the Undead would just suddenly fall to ground in an outward wave of yielding death? That their pleas would be the ones heard and answered because they had made some trivial signs?

  Stupid, misguided people.

  Instead, they died. Converted into the very things that they were cursing. Irony is cruel sometimes.

  Initially our plan was to keep heading south and we’re going to try to do that as long as possible. So far there have been no reports of the Undead south of us. That is promising but we know that it will only be a matter of time before the infection spreads there as well. And it’s entirely possible that reports from down South just haven’t reached us yet.

  Sometimes I wonder if we’re on a fool’s errand. Are we running for nothing? Don’t get me wrong; I’m not thinking about giving up. I just wonder if we should have holed up in a secure building or area and waited to see what type of world we would have to live in. Maybe a sedentary lifestyle would have been a better choice. Or maybe even nomadic to a certain degree. Rotating around between safe areas, just trying to stay a little bit ahead. I think in our haste to get out, we didn’t consider any of these options.

  When we were planning for something like this we had investigated and discussed many options. Each one had its advantages and its disadvantages. In the end we really didn’t come up with a solid plan. Everything was still technically up in the air as there were so many factors and unknowns to consider.

  And then our city, our home became the epicenter of all of this. To be honest, I don’t think we ever considered Toronto as the epicenter. In our minds, we had all assumed that it would probably start somewhere in the United States or overseas, if it started at all. Just having the Undead so close to us that point less than two weeks ago, solidified the decision that we would have to leave. We hastily came up with a plan to move away from the hot seat and see what we could find. We were hoping for a highly effective militarized response.

  Unfortunately all we’ve seen is death and now destruction. Why does crisis bring out the worst in some people?

  We hope that everyone reading this is safe or at least on the move to get somewhere safe. Please do not wait until it’s too late - and for heaven’s sake, don’t do anything stupid. The last thing the world needs right now is more of them. Choose Life.

  Day 14:

  Making our way through New Mexico today. Not sure if we should head for the United States-Mexico border or the California coastline… The reports coming out of Central America and Mexico are sporadic at best but what is getting out is not good. Many of the smaller villages and towns have been completely cut off from communication. No one really knows what the situation is down there.

  The limited news footage shows that the Undead have been swarming into the larger urban areas and with the level of poverty that many people live in, there is no defensible place for them to hide. As a result, Mexico is not looking terribly good as an option mainly because of the uncertainty of road conditions as well as the possibility of guerrilla-like piracy. It seems our decision has been made for us. We aim for the
California coast and then plan from there…

  What I don’t understand is how the Undead managed to get so far in front of us. I think that I had assumed that most means of mass long distance transportation would have been shut down, but the more that we pass through communities that seemingly normal, the more I realize the error of that thought. It’s horrifying to realize that our world is so infinitely small. Exotic locales are not so far off the beaten path any longer and as a result there will be no place that is left untouched by the encroaching tide of undeath.

  There have been increasing reports on the web of armies of Undead rodents, mainly chipmunks attacking people and livestock all over the country. It’s only been six days since we’d witnessed firsthand the sheer ferocity and carnage of a small group of these furry little guys.

  Driving through Bingham, New Mexico today we saw another flock of the Undead fiends. They seem to attack all manner of living creatures; and my God, do they move quickly! We stopped for a short moment, only long enough to abide by the stoplight in the middle of town and witnessed them as they were attacking a group of cyclists out for a ride (seriously people?!).

  It was terrifying to see the cyclists breeze past us, simultaneously trying to pedal forward and brush the ravenous creatures off of them. One by one, they all fell, the wheels on their bikes still turning as if they were still trying to propel themselves away. Soon the intersection was a bloody mutilated mass topped with writhing bloodied fur.

  When the first of the cyclists got back up, the Undead chipmunks were still feeding off of its flesh. Obviously unconcerned with pain or losing anymore flesh, the man careened toward our truck. His spandex cycling clothes were marked with bloody holes, writhing fur and the crimson markers of blood loss.

  We stared dumbstruck in horror for a moment, each of us wanting to brush the leech-like rodents off of the body. It was just such a foreign, strange look to be sporting.

  When its hand slammed against the glass in front of Bob’s face, we all jumped. We knew it was coming - how could we not? We had been intently watching the horrific picture approach. It started banging its hand against the glass but my attention was drawn elsewhere, to the nearby park where I witnessed one chipmunk attacking another uninfected one. When I noticed another chipmunk noticing me, I knew enough was enough and away we went, not even waiting for the light to change to green. Not that it mattered; everyone else was so intent on trying to get away.

  My grandfather always told me that rodents carried diseases… Somehow I don’t think that this was quite what he was talking about.

  Bob is getting anxious for me to tell you his story. He wants people to understand what he’s been through and why he’s doing this. He hopes that in reading it you’ll trust enough in yourself to never, ever give up.

  Robert (He’s asked me to call him by his full given name since he feels these typed words will be his legacy to the world) was an athlete and a laureate from an early age. Give him a subject in school and he learned so much so quickly that soon he knew more than most of his teachers. Put him on a field, give him a set of rules and the equipment and he could master any game. He loved to ski and he especially loved to hunt with his father.

  While watching the 1980 Winter Olympic Games in Lake Placid, NY he saw the Biathlon event for the first time. Athletes combined grueling cross-country skiing distances with target shooting. He was riveted and knew in his heart that he would be going to the Olympics. And so Robert did, representing Canada in both the 2002 Olympic Games in Salt Lake City, Utah and then in 2006 in Turin, Italy.

  It was during his time in Turin, though, that Robert’s heart grew heavy and he began to think that maybe he wasn’t using his God-given talents in the way that he should. Upon returning from the Games, and against his family’s wishes, he enrolled in the Canadian Military.

  While sports had always been a love of Robert’s, so was learning and education. His time spent away from his training was spent in the classroom and he graduated top of his class from the University of Toronto with majors in both Political Science and Linguistics. It was at the university that he met Barbara, an Environmental Science major.

  The two were involved for much of their four years at school but in their third year, a devastating event occurred that pushed them apart. That was also part of the reason Bob decided to enlist in the military. He hoped that serving would help him to forget the pain of losing her to his own stupidity and anger. While they had rekindled their friendship before he left for Afghanistan, his heart was still heavy knowing she was unwilling to give him another shot.

  It was his level of education and the specificity of it that allowed Robert to quickly move up the ranks after basic training. Soon he was working as a part of the Intelligence branch as an Officer. And then he was assigned to Afghanistan.

  In Afghanistan, Robert met Max and the two became friends, finding the common bond of knowing that serving their country was the right thing for them to do. It also helped that they were both from Toronto and could talk about the neighborhoods they missed and eateries they couldn’t wait to visit once home again. They shared a lot about their lives and Max was one of the only people in Bob’s life to fully understand his pain of losing Barbara and their unborn baby. As a result, he understood why Bob immersed himself so fully in what they were trying to achieve while in the country.

  On June 6th, 2008, the convoy they were travelling in ran over a roadside bomb. An intense firefight followed and Robert’s expertise as a marksman served helped to keep the two of them alive. Injuries among the group were limited that day. One death, a few burns, some scrapes and bruises and Robert lost his left leg from the knee down. He was honorably discharged and sent home to recover from his injuries.

  What Robert wants people to know about him is that while he may only have one real leg; the other one is prosthetic and has been modified in such a way as to be fully dependable in times like these. You’d never be able to tell he didn’t have two fully functioning flesh and bone legs. Robert may have been thinking ahead for something like this to happen because the truth is, you just never know.

  The message he wants you to hear is this… Even when you think you’re missing a piece of yourself, you need to find a way to make you whole again.

  Day 15:

  More and more reports are popping up online as proof that the infection has not been contained to the Western Hemisphere. There is shocking video of London’s Heathrow Airport where a standoff between a plane coming in from Los Angeles full of the Undead and Emergency Personnel occurred in the early morning hours of today.

  I`m not sure why Heathrow was still operating but from all the accounts that I can find, there didn`t appear to have been any reason for it to shut down. Some airports in the United States were still offering flights to passengers, choosing to ignore the rising tide of the Undead. It’s an important lesson of how choosing to ignore a situation can land it right in your own lap.

  No one really knows for sure what happened, but it appears that after losing contact with the cabin, the pilots landed the plane without incident and then proceeded to park it right up against the folded accordion of the passenger walkway. The pilots then called the control tower to let them know there was an issue. It may have been self-preservation on the part of the pilots, thinking that maybe they would have been asked to remain on the tarmac, or worse, shot out of the sky.

  The situation worldwide is getting to the point of panic and who really knows what the pilots had been briefed on prior to leaving for their destination? Losing contact with the passenger section of the plane would have indicated to me that there was an issue that needed to be dealt with. Did they have an inkling of what was on the opposing side of the cockpit door?

  I just don’t understand how they could have held such low regard for the people of London. Had they given an accurate account of what was actually going on that day, how many lives could have been saved? It’s not like the news wasn’t showing that the Undead has pro
liferated across parts of Canada and the United States. Surely, the British government would have mounted some kind of defense had they known what they might have been up against.

  Once the hatch was opened, it was utter pandemonium. The Emergency Personnel had no idea what to expect and as a result they were ill-prepared for what burst forth and attacked them. It was a bloody massacre that spread further and further outward throughout the entire airport and then beyond.

  The Undead spread through Heathrow like the wave of a tsunami; touching everything in their path. No one was safe especially when the newly Undead also began to rise.

  Video footage from the interior of that airport, leaked onto the Internet, showed the panic. Once the Undead burst forth from that passenger skyway, you could tell that no one in the direct vicinity really knew what was going on. It took them only a few short minutes to moving.

  At that point, it became a stampede in the crowded terminal. The wave of people closest to the boarding gate started moving outward, pushing against the throngs of other people milling about. If the feed had contained sound, I’m sure it would have just been a cacophony of screams and demands to move. You could see security personnel trying to fight the current in order to get to the people causing the disturbance. Instead they were carried backward until the moment that the Undead transformation caught up with them.

  Chaos and pandemonium are good words to describe what I saw on that video feed but it’s not completely accurate either. There was something more present, something written deeply in the faces of the trapped that day. Perhaps it was fear; perhaps it was the purest terror. What I do know is that the Undead didn’t take any prisoners, only converts. And they all burst out of the airport and into the streets of London.