Anna had been ready for any fight but I’d also found something else in her, a fierceness that was hard to define. I’d learned a lot during our short time together, and it was with a heavy heart that I shifted into drive and found a section of road I could roll onto.
And Joel.
Joel “Cruze” Kelly, the best friend I’d ever had. When we first ended up in this fucking zombie wasteland we hadn’t been the best partners, but we’d made do and even become friends. He’d taught me how to field strip an assault rifle, given lessons on flanking maneuvers and laying down suppressive fire, and always had a comeback ready for my dumb jokes. I was a much better man for having him in my life.
Sappy, sure, but I’m not the same guy I was a few weeks ago. Back then, I’d been an alcohol swilling, foul-mouthed engineer who cared only about where we were headed and when we were getting underway.
I looked in the rearview mirror again, but the ambulance was a smoking ruin. The gunfire had torn the vehicle apart before it had caught fire. Then the Z’s had arrived, led by a full pack of shufflers, and made short work of McQuinn’s crew. Some went down, but many simply piled back into cars and roared away. I didn’t know if McQuinn was alive, and I didn’t care at this point. If he was out there and I ran into him again, I’d be more than happy to go slow while I took him apart. I hoped he was a fucking Z.
I pulled out to a crossroad where a couple of bodies lay next to a car. I took a right. The plan was to run parallel to the freeway for as long as possible and hopefully come across Camp Pendleton. Along the way I’d stop and pick up a map.
I looked down because my vision was suddenly cloudy.
###
17:30 hours approximate
Location: Not-sure-where, CA - Undead Central
We were a few miles out when I came across the car. It had most of a Z hanging off the back and it had been shot to hell. I was going to pass it when curiosity got the better of me. If one of McQuinn’s men was in the car, I wouldn’t mind dealing out a little justice with my wrench.
If I got lucky, it was Frank himself, although I was sure he’d gone down under a shuffler.
I stopped a few hundred feet from the car and stared for a minute. Nothing moved.
Roz slipped out of the camper and ran to my side of the truck.
“What’s up?”
“I think that’s one of McQuinn’s cars.”
“So let’s drive past it. Come on, Jackson. I want to be as far away from this place as possible as quickly as possible.”
“Me too,” I mumbled.
But I didn’t. Sudden white-hot anger filled me and the world swam in front of my eyes. I might have been crying again or I might have been overcome with rage.
I jumped out of the still-running truck and drew the little Sig. I ducked down and angled toward the car, ignoring the throbbing of my ankle.
I kept the gun up. The second anyone showed their face, I was going to blow it off.
Roz hissed at me to come back but I ignored her. She groaned and followed, flanking the car from the other side.
I moved up on the abandoned vehicle and found it empty. There was blood on the seat and some splashed on the door, but there was no one in sight.
The shops along the sides of the street were a mess. Most had smashed in windows and battered doors. A gas station bore graffiti that read, “Aim for the Head.” If the occupants of the car had found a store to hide in, there was no way I was going to find them unless I went door to door.
Something moved near the hood.
The car had come to stop next to a solid concrete barricade that might have been used to block access a few weeks ago. I’d heard from other survivors that the government had tried to quarantine entire cities but the virus had spread far too rapidly.
A gun barrel suddenly angled over the barricade so I dropped to the side of the car. I rolled my eyes when I realized how stupid I’d been. We could have driven by this car without a second thought.
“You better be an ace fucking shot because there are six of us,” I bluffed.
“What, you teach that dog how to shoot?”
I gasped and stood up. The gun barrel lowered and I rushed to the barricade.
I’ll never be able to explain the rush of emotions I felt when I found Joel Kelly with his back against the barricade, clutching his chest. But that wasn’t the half of it. Next to him, holding her arm as blood ran down her side, was Anna Sails.
“Oh fuck!” Because I’m good with words like that.
“Good to see you too, buddy,” Joel said.
“Anna, my Anna,” I said and reached out to brush the hair off her face.
“Jesus, Jackson, it’s been thirty minutes and you’re already a weepy little bitch,” Anna said through clenched teeth.
“I thought you two were dead,” I said.
“If I don’t get this bound, I may be in a few hours.”
“Are you hit anywhere else?”
Anna moved her hand aside to show where a couple of wounds were puckered along her upper left arm. I crouched next to her and put my hands on her neck and felt down to her shoulders. I went over her chest and then hips as I probed for wounds, but she didn’t gasp, she just stared at me.
“If you don’t stop feeling me up, you’re the one that’s going to get hit.”
Roz dropped next to Joel. She smiled at him, then put her arms around his neck and pressed her forehead against the side of his face.
“Are you okay?”
“Armor saved me but I feel like I was kicked by a fucking mule. I might have a broken rib.”
“How in the hell did you escape? I saw the ambulance explode.”
“We weren’t in it. We got the hell out of that piece of shit and then used it for cover. One of McQuinn’s men was trying to crawl into his own car, so I borrowed it,” Joel said.
I imagined Joel Kelly politely asking the guy to give up his car. I had the feeling it didn’t go over like that.
“I got you, baby,” Roz said and kissed him on the cheek.
“Jackson,” Anna said, “It’s not that bad. Get Joel to the camper and then come back for me.”
I ignored her and put my arms under her legs and around her back, then gently lifted her off the ground.
“Shut up, Anna. I’ll get you fixed up. You’ll be back on your feet in no time, you’ll see.”
“Yes sir,” Anna said and put her head against my chest.
I carried her to the camper and ripped up a piece of bedding for her to press against the wound. It would have to do until we could find something better. Christy greeted her with a small smile and Frosty’s tail thumped against the floor so hard I worried that every Z within a half-mile radius would hear.
In the distance the shrill call of a shuffler broke the silence.
“I’ll be right back, Anna,” I said next to her ear. I didn’t want to take my eyes off her.
“Go get your pal before those Z’s show up and make this day into an even bigger mess.”
“Anna, I—”
“Shut up, Creed. Just shut up and come back to me. We’ll talk later,” she said.
“I was just going to say that I’m so glad you’re here. That’s all.”
She grimaced through the pain and managed to hit me with a smile that was something I don’t think I’d seen yet – because it was genuine.
###
07:30 hours approximate
Location: Not-sure-where, CA - Undead Central
It’s dark outside and this candle is just about burned to the table. We found a copse of trees off the road and pulled under them. The gas tank is still half-full so we have plenty for the next day or more. With any luck it will be enough to carry us all the way to Camp Pendleton. I never thought fifty miles would seem like such a long distance, but there’s a whole world out there just waiting for us to screw up. Just waiting to devour us.
Anna thinks she knows where Bright Star is camped but she’s worried about how long they were pla
nning to be there. It could be that we arrive and the entire group is already gone.
Joel’s cool with that because he’s convinced that the Marines would never give up Camp Pendleton. I didn’t bother reminding him what happened to the naval base in San Diego.
Joel and Roz insisted that we take the bed because Anna needs to sit up during the night to keep pressure off her wounds. Christy fit in alongside Anna, so I’m taking what’s left of the bed, and that’s more than good enough for me.
I can feel Anna’s eyes on me as I finish this entry. I’ve looked up to catch her staring at me a number of times even though she tried to feign sleep. With her injuries, she is in a lot of pain but she doesn’t complain.
Tomorrow will be a fresh start. We’ll drive all day if we have to so we can reach the base.
For tonight, I’ve got this book. I’ve got food and water thanks to the camper. I’ve also got great friends and even a dog that thinks her place is with her head in my lap or in Anna’s. I’ve got Joel.
Best of all, I’ve got Anna, which is reason enough to keep getting up and kicking ass. We’re hurt, but we’re alive, and that’s enough for now.
This is Machinist Mate First Class Jackson Creed and I am still alive.
The End
The adventure will continue in
Z-RISEN 3: POISONED EARTH
Coming in 2014.
Why I wrote the Z-Risen series
I’ve written a lot of zombie books over the years and had a lot of fun doing it. The Z-Risen series was born out of a conversation, over beers, with my friend Craig DiLouie in mid 2013. I had an idea to do a military themed series based partially on my own time in the United States Navy and pair up a Navy Engineer with a Marine. The two forces have always had a friendly rivalry and I thought it would make for a good story.
The first book was initially written as a free web serial and it was set in the same world as my Permuted Press book Beyond the Barriers--the books can be read independently.
I’m an indie author and I work very hard on my books. I hold down a full time job, have a family, and still manage to get in a few hours a day to write. I love hearing input from readers and the best way to provide that is via a review.
When you leave a review on Amazon, Barnes and Noble, Smashwords, or where ever you purchased a book, it helps other readers. This also helps the author out more than you can imagine.
So please, friends, if you can spare a few minutes of your time, go and review Z-RISEN: OUTCASTS on amazon.
CLICK TO REVIEW
Be honest and know that I read every review and use feedback to better my writing as well as have a positive impact on future novels.
Watch for Z-Risen: Poisoned Earth in 2014.
06:12 hours approximate
Seattle, WA – currently free of dead
This is author Timothy W. Long and I am still alive … and writing.
Read the Permuted Press novel that inspired the Z-Risen series.
Beyond the Barriers is a military style zombie book set in the same world as Z-Risen.
When the dead rise, Ex-Special Forces soldier Erik Tragger flees to the mountains to wait out the end of the world. Cut off from civilization for months, he returns to find cities ruined and ruled by the walking dead.
Tragger reluctantly joins a group of survivors with a plan: flee to Portland where humanity is carving out a stronghold. But along the way they face opposition at every turn—the dead, rogue military forces, looters... and a new enemy more dangerous than any they have yet encountered.
Among the stumbling, mindless zombies walk the ghouls. The ghouls are living dead creatures that not only strategize and plan, but also possess the ability to guide their shambling brothers.
With weapons and supplies dwindling, Erik and his companions will faceoff against millions of the dead who have but one goal: complete eradication of the last of the living.
Check out BEYOND THE BARRIERS on Amazon
A sample chapter from:
AMONG THE LIVING
A zombie novel
By Timothy W. Long
The dead walk. Now the real battle for Seattle has begun.
When a gas leak causes the National Guard to forcibly evacuate the neighborhood, Lester isn't going anywhere. The former dope pusher has a new clientele… the kind that require him to deal lead instead of drugs.
Mike, a newspaper reporter, suspects a conspiracy lies behind the chaos. He’s driven to find the truth, even if it means dragging his beautiful co-worker into danger.
Kate has a dark secret: she’s a budding young serial killer. As society collapses, her skill in dealing death may be the one thing that can keep her alive.
These survivors, along with others, are drawn together in their quest to find not only the truth behind the spreading apocalypse, but also to escape the madness they face at every turn.
“I really loved the entire overall plot, the characterization as a whole, and the gory, action-packed scenes. This is a good, solid zombie book and I highly recommend it.” —Rhiannon Frater, author of FIRST DAYS: AS THE WORLD DIES
Prelude
Lost, and for a time so is he. Breath rasps in and out as her lungs begin to fail.
Cold, and so is she. Her hand is ice, a rigid claw that grips with the force of a newborn. Skin translucent, wisps of gray hair that struggle to rise as he strokes her arm. Bone thin, old, past her prime and yet barely in her fifth decade.
Hours spent by her side, and for it her eyes opened but once. She stared past him at the ceiling as if it held less recrimination than his gaze. Milky and gone to smoke, at least the one on the left, while the other is clear and the bluest blue he has ever seen. They pulled him in from the first, dug into his soul and now, twenty-two years later, it continues to haunt.
The syringe is cool as he rolls it across the tabletop. He picks it up again to feel the weight of the world. Clear and languid, the liquid rests, unassuming.
If it does what he asks, what he hopes, it will be her savior and perhaps his.
The brush of alcohol, but she doesn’t stir. Then a stab and the deed is done. Just a waiting game now, and for all the long months he has been away, he will not leave her side until it works—or kills her.
It may be some time before the tumor shrinks. That thing that looks like a balloon in her head. It grows daily as if pumped full of air; the pressure must be immense.
The virus is ‘programmed’ to seek out the tumor and enter it. There it will begin eating the thing with a vengeance, his vengeance. Minutes are all it needs to start working, maybe days until she is coherent.
She sighs and her head stirs. He leans over and presses his lips to dry skin next to her pale mouth. Then she is silent once again, and he waits.
The light from the window paints landscapes across the blankets. Mountains made of knees, hips for land fall, waist a pool of lake water. Later, night slips in and the painting is reversed.
She stirs again, and one eye drifts open. It is clear for the first time in as long as he can remember. The other is still milky and may never recover from the damage.
“Herb ...” Just a whisper, and he has to lean close.
“Ruth?”
“Herb, I feel strange … like my blood is on fire.”
“Try to relax, my love. Everything will be back to normal soon. Very soon now.”
“It’s not okay; it hurts. My head feels like it’s going to explode. ”
“I did it, Ruth. All those years of research and I have the cure. Finally. I gave you a shot that is killing the tumor.”
“I don’t think so, Herb, I don’t think so.” Her eye moves back and forth as if trapped. Her head shakes, and her body shifts under the blanket. The dead eye turns and looks past him at a spot on the wall.
Blood pours into the other one, beneath the surface of the cornea. Within seconds, it is crimson. One side of her face slopes down as if it is about to slide off her head. Oh God, a stroke! He grabs his bag from the floor
and paws through it as she starts to shake. She thrashes on the bed, foam bubbling from her mouth.
He flips the bag over her body and continues to look through it as he holds her down. He is sure he has Coumadin, but Aspirin will do as well, just in case, oh God—just in case. She writhes, and he feels her heart beating through her chest. It rumbles, pounds and then, to his horror, slows down and shudders to a halt.
“Ruth, my God. RUTH!”
“Herb,” she sighs then sits up in bed and sinks her teeth into his exposed neck. He screams, but not for long.
Dead, and so is he.
Part One
Day 0 – Lester
“Oh my God, what is she wearing? It’s like a cross between a robe and a big ol’ cow.”
“Don’t know, babe. She looks like a sleepwalker to me.”
Angela lies sprawled between two chairs with her legs poking out of a summer dress so she can soak up the afternoon sun. She studies the shambling figure through reflective sunglasses. A floppy pink hat shades the rest of her perky face even though the line of sunlight cuts her torso neatly in half.
The street has been quiet for a couple of hours. Neighbors used to poke their faces out of similar houses along Cole Avenue. They used to walk by with heads held high, aloof, as if oblivious to the fact that they had renters such as Lester and Angela near their precious property value.
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