Catharsis: Outbreak Z: Books 1-4

by Roberts, EM

  The youngest and current President in the history of the United States stood and kicked dirt into the fire. He couldn’t afford having a fire for too long. It garnered unwanted attention. He grabbed the AR-15 and his olive-green army surplus backpack. It seemed ironic that a politician who’d built his campaign around gun control was now toting an assault rifle. Some things,however, could not be helped. The gun had become even more important to him than food. It was his way of staying alive. He’d picked it up at a remote cabin when he’d first entered West Virginia. The owner certainly didn’t need it anymore. Along with the gun, he’d chosen a Ruger SR9, and a bowie knife, all courtesy of the same infected homeowner he’d had to kill.

  At the age of forty years old, he’d been sworn into office with his lovely wife and six year old daughter at his side. It’d been a monumental occasion, not just because of his age but because he was the first black man to hold the office of President. Well, he was half black. He was proud of this accomplishment, but he didn’t want it to define him. The truth was he embraced both races. He just wanted to be President; it was as simple as that.

  The reason he’d been elected was what he presented: a progressive America. Gone were the days when people could say and do what they wanted without regard for others to his way of thinking. His campaign manager had encouraged him to appeal to the younger audience through social media and rallies. He’d been prepped to look young and act younger. Even the few strands of his silver hair had been colored. He noticed they were now showing again, and he didn’t really care.

  He liked to think he represented a new generation of people who based their arguments on logic. Why shouldn’t gays be allowed to get married? Why shouldn’t everyone get access to healthcare? This was the 21st century, and people wanted a leader who represented the future. There were no logical arguments to his way of thinking that disproved these so-called radical ideas. And, an overwhelming amount of the young voters agreed with him. Too bad there was still a fair amount of the population who continued to live in the good old days where hatred and bigotry were second nature. Now, as he stood alone in the wilderness, he realized some of these things were no longer important. Political beliefs were irrelevant. In this world, it was simply a matter of survival.

  His three years in office had been a struggle so much so that he’d been unsure whether he would run for re-election or not. He didn’t seem to be accomplishing much of anything. His advisors had tried to console him by assuring him that most presidents didn’t accomplish much until the end of the first term or early in the second term. He knew running again was expected of him, but he didn’t know if he wanted to go through the scrutiny and the work another campaign involved. He’d become so very tired and disillusioned in such a short amount of time.

  Before becoming President, he’d been full of ideas on how to change the country for the better. Of course, as a politician he knew it was hard to implement change. He didn’t hold the power people thought he did. What he hadn’t realized was just how much people could twist and change his words and promises to suit their own agendas. He also didn’t realize just how tempting power could be. He really did originally just want to help people. Maybe, he’d been too idealistic in trying to impose his agenda.

  President Parker Wallace walked away from the makeshift camp never once looking back. It was the same as all of the others. Nothing special--a fleeting place of rest. It wasn’t good to stay in one place too long, he’d learned. He readjusted his heavy pack and weapon. He’d gotten used to lugging around their weight. He made his way the short distance from the woods to the country road and surveyed the landscape. The foliage was in the in-between stage of winter and spring. A few trees were beginning to get their greenery and buds but not enough to take away from the starkness of winter. The road was bare, no cars in sight. He would have to hoof it for a while until he found something.

  Two hours later, Parker had worked up a sweat from both his brisk walk and from his last two kills. His tee shirt was sticking to his skin, and he almost felt like shedding his sweatshirt. He’d been so caught up in thinking about the past, he hadn’t even heard the creatures coming. He would have to be more alert the next time. Fortunately for him, they seemed not to have eaten in a while which made them much slower. He’d had time to pull out his knife. He would only use the rifle as a last resort not wanting the sound to carry and attract more of the infected. They seemed to be attracted to two things: sound and blood.

  The first creature had been so pathetic Parker felt sorry for it. How could something so decomposed still walk around and function? The creature had one eyeball hanging out of its socket. Maggots had started work on the eye socket and remaining tissue. The other eye was a lifeless, cloudy gray indicating the creature had been turned for a while. Its skin hung loosely on its body: ripped, torn and showing bone in some places. . The creature looked like something that had been buried and decomposing for months. He ended its life by plunging the bowie knife into the fleshy part of its temple. That was a lesson he’d also learned early on in this adventure. Go for the temple. An injury to the brain was the only way these creatures would stay down.

  The second infected wasn’t much better. Missing an arm and its intestines dragging the ground, the creature had pathetically made a lunge for Parker. It’d been such an easy chore to sink his blade into its head. After disposing of the two, Parker had said a short prayer for them hoping that finally the two would be at peace. For him, the killing never got easier. The two had once been functioning, living people who had hopes, dreams, and families. He always remembered this when he had to kill, and he always tried to remember to say a quick prayer for their souls.

  Parker paused in his contemplation upon hearing a noise in the distance. It almost sounded human. He jogged forward a few feet and stopped again, pausing so he could listen. Yes, there it was again. A scream-- a woman’s scream. Shit! He really didn’t want to get involved with anyone, but there was no way that he could just ignore someone who might need his help. He paused for a second--it could be a trap. Hell, he couldn’t take that chance. He followed the noise until he saw a small path of worn grass on the side of the road. He lifted his weapon and cautiously made his way into the forest.

  “You gonna thank me when this is over, baby. You ain’t never had nothin’ like this before.”

  The promised words came from a bulk of a man wearing a yellow and green plaid shirt and filthy, torn jeans, his back to Parker. Parker slowly edged closer to the scene observing there was another man holding a naked, young woman down by her shoulders as she struggled, kicking her feet at the first man in attempt to discourage him. The second man was small and wiry looking and was dressed in the same manner as the first. They both looked like they were in dire need of a bath. Greasy hair, dirty faces, and dirty hands attested to the fact they hadn’t seen soap and water in a while. Parker was sure he could take the small wiry one in a fight, but in regards to the big man, he was not very confident. He hoped the gun would scare them off before anything developed that far.

  “I ain’t had me any pussy in a few months. Not any young, fresh stuff like you, baby. I’m gonna give it to ya real good, and then my buddy Jonesy here is gonna fuck you in the ass. You ever had yer ass cherry popped?” the big man questioned as he unzipped his pants and fondled himself.

  “Yeah, that’s not going happen.” Parker walked up to the man and pressed the gun into the back of his head. He looked down at the girl. She couldn’t be over 18 or 19. Her captor, seeing Parker had a gun on his partner released her and raised his hands in the air.

  “Get up, sweetheart and get dressed,” Parker commanded, nodding his heard toward her pile of clothes.

  The girl stood, covering herself as much as she could with her hands. Her eyes flashed fire, and Parker could see the anger on her face. Good, he thought. Out here on the road, showing anger was better than crying. The girl ran to the pile of clothing, jerking her things on as fast as she could.

  �
��Now, I want you two boys to go over to that big tree there and get down on your knees.” Parker motioned with his weapon.

  “Now, man. There ain’t no call to be doing anything drastic. We was jest having some fun. We wouldn’t a hurt her,” Skinny Man whined.

  “Really? You guys sure about that?” Parker asked, standing in front of them his gun aimed and ready.

  “I guess I’ll ask the girl what she wants me to do with you. We’ll see what she has to say.”

  The young woman walked up beside Parker and hatefully glared at the two men.

  “Well, the only thing to do is to kill them,” she said, matter-of-factly.

  Parker glanced at her. She seemed serious. He couldn’t kill them….could he?

  “Well, I don’t know about that. That seems pretty harsh,” Parker replied.

  “Really? Getting almost raped isn’t harsh? I’m pretty sure they’ve done this before and will do it again. In fact, Jonesy over there was bragging about raping an old woman a couple of months back. We can’t just let them go and do it to someone else. What if they rape a young girl, a child?” she asked angrily, looking at the two men who cowered in front of her.

  Parker contemplated this bit of information. What the hell was he supposed to do with the two? He couldn’t just let them go. She was right. They would do this again, and it would be his fault for sending them on their way. He could tie them up and leave them. But, that would be a death sentence if an infected person came along. Either way, the outcome would pretty much suck.

  Before Parker could make his move, the girl pulled a small .32 Beretta handgun from her waist, racked it and planted two bullets into each of the men, effectively making the choice that Parker could not. He was at a loss for words, and he didn’t mind admitting--a little afraid.

  “Listen,” she said, “I don’t know you. You don’t know me, but you intervened. That shows some decency. We should probably get out of here since the noise is sure to attract any creatures in the area. Just remember, I have my gun, and I am going to be watching you like a hawk.”

  With that statement, she pulled several bullets from her pants pocket and loaded them into the magazine of the small weapon. She stuck the weapon into a small leather holster that was attached to her belt. Parker noticed that like him, she was also carrying a knife for protection.

  “Hey,” he said running after her as she made her way to the road, “Wait up. We can stick together for a while. That is, if I can trust you? You did just shoot two men. How do I know you’re not some bloodthirsty killer?”

  “Well, I did what you didn’t have the balls to do. I really didn’t shoot them in cold blood, either. They probably would have killed me or made me their sex slave, so they were far from innocent. What else were we supposed to do?” she asked angrily as she pulled a granola bar from her pack and began consuming it. Killing must have made her hungry, Parker mused.

  “Well, uh, uh, okay, then.” Parker was still at a loss for words. He sounded like a bumbling idiot. He just hadn’t expected someone so young to be so nonchalant about death.

  “Okay, let’s get this out of the way,” she said, pausing in her stride and turning to look at him, “My name is Izzy James. Izzy is short for Elizabeth, but don’t ever call me that. I’m 20 years old. I was a student at Georgetown University before all of this happened, so don’t treat me like I’m stupid because I’m not. I do what needs to be done, when I can. That is pretty much all you need to know.”

  “My name is ….” Parker started to give her the fake name he’d contrived in case he met up with anyone.

  “I know your name, and I know who you are. Your crazy hair and beard really don’t fool me. I lived in Washington D.C. so I saw your face a million times. Also, don’t expect me to be all nice and crap just because you were the President.” She started walking steadily down the road, her boots thudding on the pavement. He couldn’t imagine how she was feeling just having been the victim of an attempted rape. He wondered if she were angry all of the time, or if it were just due to the circumstances.

  Parker had never really met someone so straight forward and brutally honest. In the past, most people had lied and fawned over him. He smiled. He kind of liked her honesty. For some odd reason, he felt like he could trust her. That didn’t happen often.

  From the top of her pixie cut black and green hair to the tips of her black Doc Marten boots, Izzy James drew attention. Her black skinny jeans had probably drawn the lust of the would-be rapists because they molded her body in a way that let anyone looking know that she was a woman. He would be dead not to appreciate the fact that Izzy was an attractive and sexy young woman. But, that didn’t mean he was attracted to her. After all, he was old enough to be her father, and she still seemed like a child to him.

  She was wearing a military cut olive green jacket over a tee shirt with the image of a fat, pink pig. The ensuing logo proclaimed: Once You Meet Them, You Can’t Eat Them! He smiled at that. He wondered if she was a vegetarian or if she’d simply had no other choice in her manner of dress. He thought it was probably the former. He didn’t think Izzy would wear something that made a statement if she didn’t believe in it.

  “You get an eyeful, yet? I’m not going to have to worry about you, am I?” she asked, glancing over at him as she walked purposefully without losing a breath.

  “No, you don’t have to worry about me. I’m old enough to be your father.” he said, a pang piercing his heart as he wondered what his own daughter might have looked like at this age.

  “So, Izzy,” he said, changing the subject, “Tell me about your experience with these creatures. Maybe we can learn from each other.”

  “Well, I guess we both know you have to pierce their brain in some way, right? Did you know sometimes they travel in groups? I mean, like big groups. And, did you that the longer they go without food, the weaker they become? It’s kind of like their brain starts shutting down.”

  “Yeah, I kind of guessed at that. The last two I encountered were really slow and their eyes were cloudy, not red like the newly turned ones.”

  “I kill every one I come across,” Izzy stated, daring him to reprimand her for it.

  “Hey, I don’t really blame you,” he said, “They’re no longer people. I kill them because I have to, but I don’t enjoy it like some people I’ve run into seem to do.”

  “Yeah, I don’t imagine you would, knowing your background and all,” she said making a reference to his former anti-gun and anti-violence stance.

  The two walked in silence for some time. Parker appreciated the beautiful spring day with the birds chirping and a slight breeze blowing. He’d left the campfire early this morning, and looking down at his watch, he was surprised to see it was now 3 o’clock in the afternoon. Turning a curve in the road, Parker was relieved to see a sign welcoming visitors to the small town of Carlisle. In the distance, he could see a couple of buildings. Maybe there would be some food there. Hell, they might get lucky and find some kind of transportation as well. The closer the two got to their destination, the dismal the surroundings became.

  They reached yet another sign proclaiming the community of Carlisle had an original population of 796 residents. The number had been crossed out with spray paint and various new numbers added until the sign ran out of room. The town, if it could be called that, contained a post office, a diner, a service station, and a convenience store. There were a couple of apartment buildings and a few houses still standing. Some buildings were charred and burned while others were boarded up. Overall, the town looked abandoned. The good thing was there were no infected people in sight. At least, not yet.

  “Hello, the town! Anybody home?” Izzy yelled her hands cupped around her mouth, her voice echoing loudly in the stillness.

  “What are you doing? Any creature within hearing distance will come running,” he asked angrily as he lifted his weapon in anticipation.

  “Yeah, and then we’ll know what we’re up against, won’t we? I’d rather kn
ow than have one of them sneak up on me,” she replied, two handguns drawn.

  The two waited for a couple of minutes, but no creatures appeared. Could they be that lucky, Parker wondered?

  “Well, Izzy. Where do we start? We’re not splitting up, so don’t even suggest that. Two guns are better than one.”

  “Well, I am starving, so let’s go find something to eat,” she said making her way to the small diner that proudly proclaimed it served the best fried chicken in the state for only five dollars a plate.

  Parker opened the front door cautiously, a small bell jangling loudly in the silence. He stood for a minute or so waiting. When he deemed it safe, he and Izzy made their way into the restaurant. Overturned chairs and tables littered the small dining room. Broken dishes and dried and rotted food lay on the floor. A corpse sat in one chair, his left hand on the table near his drink, the right one in his lap. A hole in his head the size of a baseball indicated the manner of his death. The whole placed smelled of death and mildew.

  He and Izzy gingerly made their way to the restaurant’s kitchen looking for anything of use. Inside the kitchen, the stench was less strong but still effective enough to make Izzy cover her face with the hem of her shirt. The cook or what was left of her lay in a pile near the grill. Parker noted she seemed to have been dead for a while.

  Izzy made her way to the opposite side of the room and began opening cabinets looking for canned goods. After a couple of seconds, she crowed in delight and lifted her find high in the air like an athlete holding a trophy.