Endings: Dystopian Post Apocalyptic Zombie Thriller (Parables From The Apocalypse Book 1)

by Norman Christof

  Chaz had to grin. "Elvis? Like the singer?"

  "Yea, my mom was a big fan."

  "Hmm, me too. Seems like your mom has good taste, and knows how to raise smart kids. I need the property ownership office. Which way?"

  "Yes, sir, absolutely. Third floor. Take the elevators just behind me. Go right off the elevators, then another right and it's on your left. You can't miss it."

  "Great, thanks, Elvis."

  Chaz walked by Billy, and pulled out his sidearm. The unarmed Billy took a step back. Chaz handed his weapon, grip first, to Billy. "Hold onto this for me will ya, son? I wouldn't want to have any more misunderstandings between here and the property offices."

  Billy took the weapon, and whispered, "Yes, sir, no problem, sir."

  "Oh, and one more thing, Billy. Can you keep an eye on my vehicle out front? We wouldn't want to be responsible for losing military property now, would we?"

  "No, sir, I'll keep an eye on it."

  Chaz pressed the button and waited for the elevator. He could still hear the two guards.

  "How the fuck was I supposed to know who he was. I don't even own a television."

  "Just because you don't own a television, doesn't mean you have to act like an idiot. This ain't the Wild West."

  Chaz smiled, and stepped into the elevator, thinking to himself, it ain't the Wild West today, boys, but it will be soon.

  Just The Facts Ma'am

  Chaz found the office just like Elvis said. A woman with a touch of gray in her long brown hair sat behind the reception station. She had her elbow propped on the desk, her head in her hand dozing off. He could see a few other workers in the back offices, but no customers.

  Chaz cleared his throat. "Excuse me."

  The woman nearly jumped out of her skin.

  "Sorry to disturb you," Chaz continued. "I was just wondering if you could help me to find someone?"

  The woman, regaining her composure, realized she was still at work, and replied, "We're not Missing Persons here, Sergeant, this is the property office."

  "Yes, ma'am, it's Colonel, ma'am, and I know what office this is. I was hoping you could tell me if a certain individual still owns property in this area."

  "Why don't you just look it up yourself? Check a phone book or something? This isn't the Stone Age, you know."

  "Yes, I did try that. But this person doesn't want to be found. I figured since property records are legal documents, I should be able to track them down here."

  "Doesn't the military have all this information? Just use your own databases."

  "This is unofficial business, ma'am. I'd really appreciate it if you could help me out here."

  "Fine, fine, you can use one of the self-help kiosks behind me. They'll have everything you need."

  "Ahh, yea. I'm not really great with computers. Don't suppose you could spare a few minutes and give me a hand?" Chaz gave her the most sincere smile he could manage. He was never the most handsome guy in the room, but he did understand the sway of a man in uniform.

  "Fine, fine, follow me. Everybody else just accesses our website for this stuff. I don't know why you old-timers insist on making extra work for me."

  Sitting herself down at the nearest kiosk station, she typed in the names Chaz suggested, starting with Abby's married name, Sheperd. When that didn't work, they tried her maiden name, Monroe. Then a bunch of variations of married and last names with Abby, Abigail, and Abbie. None of the names returned anything.

  "That's odd," Chaz commented. "I know she had a house here for at least a little while. There must be some record of her. Wait. Try her mother's name. Susan Monroe."

  She tried several different variations, and eventually came up with a hit. "Susan Margaret Monroe. The house was bought about this time last year, then sold again six months later. I have another record for her, but it's outside the city. Looks like she bought property north of here, up in Calhoun. There's an address."

  "Great, where is that?"

  "Not far, about seventy miles north. Just head up I-75." She looked Chaz in the eye. "You'd be a fool to go though. That area was overrun a couple of months ago. The military moved in and practically burned the whole place down. It was a major disaster. I'm surprised you didn't know, being military and all."

  Chaz was taken aback a bit, but didn't say anything.

  "You OK, Colonel? These people you're looking for weren't friends or family, were they?"

  "Just print out that address for me, will you?"

  She printed the record out. Chaz grabbed it, and headed straight for the door. He stopped just long enough in the lobby to retrieve his weapons from Billy.

  Calhoun

  The outskirts of Calhoun seemed like any small southern town. New subdivisions were springing up outside the city limits. Larger-than-average-sized lots were built to emulate the big plantation homes of years gone by. Chaz didn't pay much attention to the architecture; he was more interested in finding his family. At least, what he hoped would be a family. He did notice that the homes were all still standing, and in pristine condition. There were certainly no signs of devastation and ruin. Rumors could run pretty rampant these days, especially with a crumbling infrastructure. Everybody loved to hear gossip. It was getting harder to distinguish between gossip and the truth.

  What Chaz did notice as he entered the city, was that the buildings got smaller, and people were scarce. Small towns could be quiet, but considering it was early evening, there should have been more people out and about. He expected to see adults returning from work and kids coming home from school. What he didn't know was in Calhoun, not many kids walked home alone anymore. Even adults didn't feel secure walking the streets. Chaz passed a couple of cars going the other direction, and the drivers all gave him good long stares. They probably didn't get many military grade vehicles rolling through town, Chaz thought, and if that lady at the records office was telling the truth, the last military units to visit hadn't created any local cherished memories.

  What was hopefully Abby's current address was clear across town. Chaz would have to drive right through downtown to get there. He began to see signs of deserted buildings the closer he got to downtown. Lawns that looked like they hadn't been mowed in a season, boarded windows, and at least one home gutted by fire. It looked like there may have been some truth to the rumors. The further he drove into the downtown, the worse it got. Scenery changed from just the odd burned-out or deserted home to a main street transformed into a warzone. Every single building had experienced some major damage. Windows were blown out, and major structural walls were lying in the street. It was difficult navigating the Humvee through all the debris.

  At one point, the main road was totally impassable. There were at least twenty vehicles deserted or crashed, blocking his path. Chaz stopped the Humvee, grabbed his automatic, and climbed out to get a better look. He climbed onto the top of a delivery truck to survey the area. There was no sign of movement, and no way to drive down this road. A few blocks past city hall it looked clear. At least, where city hall should have been according to his navigation unit. Now it was nothing more than a pile of rubble. Bricks, broken glass, plaster walls, some office furniture, and plumbing fixtures. Whatever had happened here in Calhoun, the worst of it had hit city hall. If I just detour down a few of these side streets, I can likely make it to this road, and get to Abby's place, Chaz thought.

  Considering all the destruction, it was surprising that Chaz hadn't seen any casualties around. At least the military had done some sort of cleanup. They couldn't have been in too much of a hurry to leave. Chaz backtracked a block, and took the first street north. It took a while till he found a street running parallel with the main street that looked passable. The roads weren't in great condition, but the further he got from downtown, the better they got. Eventually he got back on track, driving towards Abby's last known address.

  Street Brawl

  Chaz made the last turn onto Abby's street. The street, however, was barricaded w
ith a bunch of burned-out cars. There were three cars parked lengthways, and an old transport truck behind them. Someone obviously didn't want visitors. Chaz figured he wasn't just a visitor, he was family. It would take more than some rebel roadblock to keep him from his family. He backed up a bit, cranked the wheel hard right, and proceeded to drive up the sidewalk past the roadblock. Just as he hit the curb, a sniper's shot rang out from one of the houses. The bullet pierced the front windshield on the passenger side, spider-cracked the windshield, and lodged itself into the passenger-seat headrest. What the hell, thought Chaz. These were bulletproof windows. Someone was serious enough to use armor-piercing bullets.

  Chaz decided plowing straight ahead was not the smart move here. He backed up to the middle of the street. At least here, the old transport was blocking the sniper's aim. This time, Chaz wheeled hard to the left. With the transport blocking the sniper's angle, he could gun the Humvee over the curb, pick up speed, and be halfway down the street before the sniper had a bead on him. Chaz started to make his move to the left when another shot rang out. This time it hit the windshield just to the right of his face. The bullet buried itself into the right side of his headrest. It narrowly missed Chaz's face, but created enough spider cracks to severely impair his view. Chaz hit the brakes once more, and backed up behind the protection of the transport.

  Well, thought Chaz, that limits my options. There's more than one shooter here. I'm outnumbered, and these aren't amateurs. They certainly don't want me here, but they don't seem to want me dead either. They could have done that with either shot. Maybe I can talk my way out of this. Chaz pulled out his sidearm, and placed it on the passenger seat beside him. He climbed out of the Humvee and placed his hands behind his head. He walked slowly around the barricade. A shot rang out and pierced the headlight of the car behind him. Chaz stopped and yelled in the general direction of the shooter, "Look, I just want to talk, I'm not here to hurt anyone or take anything." Nothing. No response came from either side of the road. Chaz thought, I really hope I'm right about this. Whoever these guys are, they may be excellent marksman, but they're not killers. He continued forward around the cars and transport until he was completely out in the open. Once more Chaz called out, "I'm looking for Abby Sheperd. I'm her husband. I don't want to hurt anyone, and I don't want to steal anything. I just want to talk to my wife."

  Another voice called out from the right from an amplified speaker. "Stay where you are. I'm coming down to you. If you take another step, the next bullet won't miss."

  Chaz thought, yea right. You guys don't have the guts to kill me. You just want me gone. Still, he held his ground. It took a few minutes, but a few houses down, the front door opened. Chaz could see a man slowly coming down his front-porch steps, one hand firmly on the handrail. What Chaz thought was his rifle was actually a cane. The man made it down the middle of the street assisted by the cane. He was partially bald, with gray hair, spectacles sliding down his nose, and a bit of a pot belly. Jesus, thought Chaz. This guy had me pinned down in a fully armored and weaponized military fighting machine? What the hell?

  The man limped to a halt about ten feet from Chaz and eyed him up and down. "My name's Eddie, Eddie Kozak. Everyone calls me Ed."

  "Nice to meet you, Ed. You're quite the marksman."

  "My wife's an even better shot. She's got you in her sights now. Try something crazy, and you'll see for yourself."

  "Your wife took that second shot? She nearly put a bullet through my head."

  "Her rifle pulls to the left a little. I've been meaning to fix that." Eddie smiled.

  Chaz stifled a grin. "Look, Ed, I'm just trying to find my wife and kids. They used to live on this street, 476. Her name's Abby Sheperd."

  "I know who she is. We know everyone on the street. There aren't many left though. Most moved to Atlanta after that last go-round with the military."

  "I noticed you had some problems. Your downtown looks like a warzone."

  "Those freaks were out of control. It started with just one or two of them on the outskirts of town. The local police had a handle on them, but then they got infected. Some just went all crazy, but a few seemed smarter ... almost normal. Like they were still part human. Those were the dangerous ones. They went after everyone important in town. They took out the doctors, the politicians, even the firemen and paramedics. They were targeting everyone that could help others. Pretty soon, there was no one left to protect us. It got worse. Soon, there were as many zombies as humans. That's when the military showed up."

  "And they just bombed the hell out of what was left?"

  "Pretty much. They started with air strikes. City hall was the first building they took out. All the freaks were there. Then they sent in a few tanks, followed by Humvees, and foot soldiers to clean out the stragglers. It didn't take long. They were gone within a week. Took all the bodies with them too. Except for the human casualties. They left those for us to bury."

  "I can see why you weren't too happy to see me."

  "We're never too happy to see strangers these days. Military or otherwise."

  "Look, I'm really sorry for what's happened here. I'm sure it was a great place to live, but I really just want to see my wife and my kids. They live just down the street. I'll leave my weapons and keys here."

  "Yeah, even if I did let you down the street, you wouldn't like what you'd find. They're gone."

  "Gone, what do you mean they're gone?"

  "I mean, they've disappeared. About a month ago, we noticed no one had come or gone from their place for a few days, so I went and checked. The house was empty."

  "Where did they go?"

  "No idea. There were some half-packed suitcases, and their closets still had clothes. It looked like they were in a hurry wherever they went. People disappear from here all the time. They weren't here all that long, maybe a few months, so we never really got to know them."

  "Look, I need to check their place. I need to see for myself. Is anyone else living there now?"

  "No, there's no one else there, but we really don't like having strangers poking around."

  "I haven't seen my wife in over a year. We had a falling-out during the start of the last war. I just need to find her and my kids. I need to make my peace."

  "Make your peace? You dying?"

  "No, no. Not yet. Look, I'll do whatever. You can come with me. Tie my hands if you want, strip me down to my skivvies if that makes you feel safer. I just need to look through the house."

  "You're a persistent bastard." Ed smiled. "Not sure you're telling the whole truth, but I really don't care." Ed looked Chaz up and down, and glanced back at his Humvee. "You've obviously taken a beating to get to this point. I'll take you down to the house. I won't cuff ya, but throw your truck keys over. Your wife's house is the third one past mine. It's white with blue trim. I'm trusting you now, so don't disappoint me." Eddie reached into his pocket and pulled out a hand-held VHF radio. "Edith, the guy says he just wants to look in Abby Sheperd's place. I'm thinking we let him. He says she's his wife."

  An elderly female voice crackled over the radio. "You trust him?"

  "No, not much, but he seems desperate enough to be telling the truth. Keep him in your sights."

  "Affirmative, Eddie. Edith out."

  Chaz smirked.

  Eddie didn't see the humor in it all. "What the hell you grinning about, buddy?"

  "Eddie and Edith? Those your real names?"

  "Yes! You think that's funny?"

  "No ... well maybe, yeah. I just can't believe I've surrendered to a little old retired couple that should be running some bed and breakfast up in Vermont. I'm Colonel Chaz Sheperd. I can't believe I let you two get the drop on me."

  Eddie took a step closer and focused his eyes onto Chaz. "Wait, you're Chaz Sheperd, the Colonel Sheperd? I served in the military, and did time in the first two wars. I know who Colonel Sheperd is." He stepped right up to Chaz, and offered his hand. "Damn, it is you. Holy shit! Why didn't you say so in the fi
rst place? We could have saved ourselves some drama and a few bullets. Those armor-piercing rounds aren't easy to come by. Abby never said she was married to that Sheperd."

  Chaz shook his head. "Yeah, she probably wouldn't have said anything. We weren't exactly on the best of terms."

  Eddie's radio came to life. "Eddie, you fool! What the hell is going on down there? You're in my line of sight, back the hell up!"

  Eddie smiled, and lifted the radio up. "Edith, it's alright. It's Colonel Chaz Sheperd. The Colonel Chaz Sheperd."

  "Ahh, well, why didn't he say so in the first place?"

  Chaz just shook his head. "So, it's OK if I go to the house now?"

  "Yes, yes, of course. Sorry for the mix-up, Colonel. You go right ahead. Feel free to stop by on your way out for a cup of tea if you like. We don't get many visitors these days. Certainly not celebrity visitors."

  Family Feud

  Before Eddie finished, Chaz handed his keys over and started running towards Abby's house.

  The house looked well kept up, as did most on the street. It was a white and blue Cape Cod with a wraparound porch. Nice place to raise kids, Chaz thought. The front door was open, and Chaz walked in. Eddie was right: the closets were partially empty, like they had been ransacked. They had left in a hurry. There were still personal belongings throughout the house. He found pictures of the kids next to Abby's bed in the master bedroom. They looked so much bigger than he remembered. He took both pictures out of the frames, and put them in his pocket. He wandered into the kitchen. Most of the food had been cleaned out, but a laptop was still sitting on the kitchen table. Looking through the laptop history, he found what he needed.