Zombie Botnet Bundle: Books 1 - 3: #zombie, Zombie 2.0, Alpha Zombie

by Al K. Line

  "Are we going to do this or not?" said Mike. Just sitting in the car was making him feel uneasy, not that he was looking forward to getting out either.

  "I guess we better, although this is one fucked up plan if you ask me," said Kyle. And it was if you thought about it, but no-one could think of a better way for their group to find a safe place to stay that they had even a chance of defending.

  Kyle, Mike and Cassie had discussed it at length, and there really wasn't a better solution they could think of to find a safe haven for them all. After the unfortunate 'incident' at the barn they had been on the move since. None of them could think of anywhere that could be defended properly against the infected. Houses and normal buildings were simply too susceptible to attack — that had become all too obvious in the most heart-wrenching of ways.

  What was needed was a structure that was properly defensible, which meant not only something out in the country away from most infected, but it meant something with open views and a contained building that they could feel safe in. After hours of discussion the ideal property type was decided on. A manor house with a large walled garden would meet the criteria perfectly.

  It would be an ideal place to settle down for the foreseeable future, a refuge they could barricade very effectively with minimal work. They would have space, they would have protection, and they would also have a garden that could be put to practical use.

  Vegetables could be grown and animals could be kept. It would mean they were relatively self sufficient at the least. This was going to be a very important part of survival for those who had not been infected by the zombie botnet. Fresh food was impossible to find after just a few days, either having been scavenged already or begun to turn. Either that or the food was fresh as the day it had been harvested, which didn't instill that much confidence in eating it. How the hell can fresh vegetables stay so pristine? Chemicals, and lots of them, was the answer. The guys didn't mind if they were honest, but Cassie was adamant — even if there was a zombie apocalypse she wasn't going to eat anything but real food, and not any of that GM crap.

  The decision on what would be a suitable home for the group having finally been decided upon, there was now the very real and pressing problem of none of them having a clue as to where they could find such a property. Mike and Cassie had good knowledge of the local area, and could think of nothing that even came close to their needs. Obviously they couldn't just do a Google search, the Web was a no-go now, the risk of infection all too real. The only answer was to go 'Old Skool' and actually go to the library and find suitable reference material, that contained listings and information on local manor houses.

  So here they are, Mike and Kyle. Sat in Ven's Subaru, parked in the road at the bottom of the imposing and historic steps. Worn by thousands upon thousands of footsteps over the centuries, now soaked in blood, littered with half eaten corpses. Innards, bone and brain flung carelessly over the once shiny and smooth stone steps at the gateway to this fountain of knowledge. All the gear from the Subaru had been transferred into the Land Rover, better to ensure they had room if they found anywhere for provisions on their trip into the small town. Also to ensure that if anything did happen to them then the gear wouldn't be lost along with their souls.

  The car now contained just them and some choice weapons, a lack of guns still being the main concern for both of them. Damn, they wished the UK didn't have tight gun control, a zombie apocalypse really does make you change your mind about the risks of owning death dealing weaponry in your own home.

  Armed with his trusty twelfth century long handled mace with the steel head — much like a baseball bat but with armor piercing capabilities — Kyle was also tooled up with various knives and a few other bits and pieces in his backpack. Mike had Ven's sword, some knives as well, and even some of the Japanese throwing stars Kyle had brought from his old home. Not that he had much confidence they would ever hit anything if he threw them, but better to bring them just in case.

  "Right," said Mike, "let's go borrow a book then." It sounded weird, even to him, and Kyle was still very dubious about just why people would go to the library in the first place.

  "What's that noise?" said Kyle, listening intently.

  "I don't hear anything."

  "It sounds weird, something odd about it," said Kyle.

  Mike listened, and then he got it. "It's called nature Kyle, it's the birds and the insects. No cars."

  Kyle listened again, and realized that what he was hearing was the total lack of the usual background noise he was used to. Even living in a relatively quiet part of suburbia there was always a background noise everywhere you went, even the local parks where Kyle went walking a lot. Here in the small town there was no hum of traffic, no noise from local business, not even chatter of people going about their business or shopping. It was just the birds, the bees, the flies and them.

  "It's kind of peaceful, isn't it? I like it," said Kyle. "It sort of feels right, like the world has been born anew in a way."

  "Hmm, very poetic dude, it's just a shame about this," said Mike, gesturing expansively at the scene of depraved cannibalism all around them. "And this," he said, pointing at the cracked open head of a young blond woman just a few steps up, maggots and flies covering the mostly empty cavity that once contained her brain.

  "Well, yeah, there is that," said Kyle, trying not to look at the foulness that littered the steps. "C'mon, let's get this over with."

  They made their way gingerly up the ancient steps, staying alert and watching where they put their feet. The large wooden doors were open, leading into an expansive foyer with a black and white tiled floor, inlaid with the coat of arms of the original sponsor. The place was a disaster zone. The reception desk was on its side, pamphlets bestowing the virtues of local tourist attractions were scattered all around. The small gift shop was in total disarray. Art posters, souvenir mugs and Welsh dragon plushes just a few of the many items that were knocked asunder when 64 year old Margaret turned berserker as she tried to see what the local Women's Institute were doing on the weekend via their Twitter stream.

  Three bodies lay in uneasy positions only possible in death. Sprawled around tables and chairs that were part of a small cafe the library ran to help with funding. Two of the bodies had little more than a few bite marks on them, their necks had been ripped open but no more flesh had been consumed. The reason why was obvious — sat next to the third body was one of the infected.

  What was even more disconcerting, more so than the scene Mike and Kyle were faced with, was the lack of any other bodies. The red smear marks on the floor, of what was obviously a sign of bodies being dragged into the main library, instilled confidence in neither of them.

  The third body in the foyer had been maniacally and haphazardly devoured until there was little in the way of flesh remaining. The head had been cracked open, the brains eaten. Eyes were gone, the throat had been ripped out and the esophagus gnawed. A large breast had been chewed until ribs were exposed. The rest of the body had not fared much better, it was like a pack of animals had fought over the unfortunate soul.

  Sat leaning against this decimated, once living human, was a man so bloated with his disgusting meal it was impossible to fathom how he hadn't simply popped. His stomach was so distended that it had burst his shirt buttons. His weighty belly was now as smooth as silk, the skin having been stretched as taut as it could go.

  The infected man had all kinds of foulness running down his legs, the meal making its way out in a disgusting tide of liquid feces. Mixing with his urine, trickling to the floor, adding to a rank liquid pile that stank to high heaven and was covered in a swarm of flies. The sick look of contentment on the cannibal's face was one that Kyle had seen before — one that he would never forget. Mike had also encountered this look of delinquent bliss recently, the result of massive quantities of serotonin coursing through the zombie's brain. They both quickly stepped away, the scene already burnt into their retinas.

  This
had obviously been a recent incident, there was little in the way of decay present on the three victim's bodies. Judging by the makeshift weaponry spread close by, these three people had obviously come to see what they could salvage from the cafe, having then met with an unfortunate end. If they had been killed on the day the zombie botnet went live then the scene would have been even worse than it was now. The almost comatose infected man on the floor would have digested his warm meal and been on the hunt again long ago — huge doses of thrombin meaning little of the ingested meal was stripped of its nutrients. Fresh meat was the preference at all times, fresh brains and still beating hearts were what drove them to such depths of depravity. A constant hunger which was unbearable and impossible to appease because the hypothalamus no longer regulated neuropeptide Y.

  With serious trepidation Mike and Kyle entered the library proper. A large room full of row upon row of books, many of the rows of shelving still in the upright position. Some sections had been knocked over, during what was obviously a fight for life by many who were frequenting the building when the botnet went live. Thirty computers ran the length of one wall — free for all visitors and in full use the previous Thursday afternoon. It seemed like a lifetime ago to Mike and Kyle, but was actually just five days ago.

  Most of the monitors were now smashed and on the ground, only a few remaining standing. All of them now without a power source to keep them connected to what was the Internet, but was now nothing more than the taker of souls — the death-dealer to humanity.

  Power in the library had gone off very rapidly as it just so happened that this part of Wales was run by a power company that relied on coal, as did 30% of the United Kingdom as a whole. Those that worked the bulldozers to pile the fuel onto the conveyor belts were no longer doing their jobs, now busy eating brains instead. This large supplier of British electricity only lasts eighteen hours maximum without a constant human workforce to keep the system running.

  Seeing the silent devices Kyle couldn't help but feel curious about what was going on Online.

  Would anyone still be on Facebook?

  Would Twitter still be running?

  Was there anyone at all who could get Online without being infected?

  There had to be, surely?

  He couldn't help himself, he knew the dangers but he was itching to get Online and see what was up. A lifetime of being connected had left him with serious withdrawal symptoms. He still found it impossible to accept that he couldn't surf the Web any time he chose.

  Ven really had fucked things up, that was for sure.

  "So, where do we start?" whispered Kyle. Not just in case zombies were present but because that is what you did in libraries. It's like church in that respect.

  "Local section I guess. We want a building as close to us as we can find. The more we drive about the more the risk of getting some fucker trying to eat us again." Mike thought back to the incident at the motorhome, and was still none the wiser as to whether or not the infected were actually just people turned mad, or truly zombies that were dead and returned to eat your brains.

  Fuck, I need to find out once and for all.

  Hanging from the ceiling were large signs so you could find the appropriate section. They quickly found the place they wanted and headed over. The library seemed to be free of infected, which creeped them both out. There were plenty of bodies though, the place reeked. Flesh was beginning to decompose rapidly in the heat of the unusually warm summer. But the infected must have moved on days ago, looking for fresh food once they had gorged themselves and digested their grisly meals.

  They made it to the section of books that dealt with local topics. The local section consisted of three head height shelf stacks rammed with all manner of local interest tomes, all arranged around a table and various chairs for reading or relaxing in. Sat at one of the chairs was a large man with curly brown hair and thick ginger stubble. He was staring at them.

  "Mike, Mike," whispered Kyle, nudging Mike hard in the ribs.

  "What? Oh."

  "I have some words, and I will speak them to you," said the very large man, not getting up.

  "Okay," said Mike, staring at Kyle quizzically. Kyle just shrugged his shoulders.

  "You are not the people that eat me?" asked the man.

  "No, we are not," said Mike, playing along.

  "No," agreed Kyle.

  "And I am not going to have to make angry and to hurt you? This I do not want to do, but this I have done, and it makes me feel bad in my tummy," the man said.

  Both Mike and Kyle were quick to realize that this man was somewhat strange in how he interacted. He sounded almost like he could be Dutch or something, but he had no foreign accent. It was sort of like he just spoke his words in a slightly different order than most. Most disconcerting of all was that he was in no way fazed by the fact that they were both carrying weapons.

  "Um, how are you still alive?" asked Kyle. "Have you been attacked? Don't you know that people have turned into zombies, or been infected and gone mad?"

  "I have been seeing them yes, the bad people. The people that were good and are now crazy. I have a very tired feeling and I have had to think hard and be mean to lots of them, they would want to be hurting me very much," said the mysterious man-mountain.

  "And how did you stay alive when they attacked you?" inquired Mike.

  "With these," said the man, rising from his chair and spreading out his hands palms up.

  Mike and Kyle both took a step backwards, not quite realizing the size of the guy until he stood up. Alex, for that was his name, was six feet and seven inches tall and ate at least six meals a day. His hands were huge and his forearms were rippled with veins and muscle. He had a slight covering of fat, and was a little overweight, but beneath it was a lot of very useful muscle. He was extremely strong — like a bear.

  Mike and Kyle stared at each other, not quite sure what to make of their new acquaintance at all. This guy was freaking massive, his arms were like chiseled tree trunks. If he had been here for days then he must be pretty good in a fight.

  "How long you been here then, um... what's your name?" asked Kyle.

  "I have a name, and it is Alex. But you," he said, as if building up to something, "can call me Al," he finished expectantly. A large grin on his face.

  "Oh, ha ha, very good," said Mike, smiling back at the man-mountain.

  "Huh?" said Kyle.

  "You can call me Al, you know, Paul Simon?" said Mike, eyebrows rising inquisitively.

  "Who's Paul Simon?" asked Kyle.

  "Oh, never mind," said Mike. "Bloody kids," he muttered under his breath.

  "That is my number one best joke," said Al. "But it's okay if you don't get it, you must be a young person of age then?"

  "Um, well, I'm twenty one," said Kyle, "and I'm called Kyle, and this is Mike."

  "I am happy to be meeting you both," said Al, squeezing all feeling from both their hands as he took a step forward and grabbed them both one after the other, pumping hard.

  "Nice to meet you Al. So you have been here a long time then I guess?" said Mike, shaking out his hand to get some blood-flow going. It had turned white from the big guy's firm handshake.

  "It has been lots of days and I am not wanting to keep on being here. But I am not able to be driving so I cannot be going home now, and there is not safety outside," said Al.

  "Another one, eh," said Mike, staring dagger-like at Kyle.

  Why can't anyone fucking drive?

  "So, who did you come with Al?" asked Kyle.

  "I came with the helpers, and I like the helpers. My mother she also likes them, as she likes me to come and learn at the library. And I make friends by coming out from being at home, which is good for people to do, and makes me better." Al cast his head towards the back of the library. "Now my mother is there," said Al, pointing to the corner for emphasis.

  "What happened," said Mike, suspecting he already knew.

  "The people on the computers and the ph
ones that glue to the head attacked everyone," said Al shuddering. "And they killed the helpers and they killed friends to me, and my mother too. I have been alone now."

  "So you defended yourself?" asked Kyle.

  "I did, I have much strength but also sadness, it was not a good thing to do."

  Al had fought countless infected and realized that they simply wouldn't stop unless he smashed their heads in, so that is what he did.

  He went away to a quiet place when he did it, not wanting to think about the things people were doing to each other. Trying to do to him. After the onslaught had finished he had dragged as many bodies as he could to a corner of the large open space, his mother included. Then he was alone. For days he had roamed the room, not daring to leave, a look out of the window made it obvious that outside was no safer than inside.

  He ate countless sandwiches and supplies that he always carried with him in a large rucksack. Al ate a lot, and he ate often, so always took various Tupperware containers everywhere he went, stuffed with food. When it ran out he had ransacked vending machines, even ventured out to the library's cafe, only to witness the death of the last of the three victims of the now comatose zombie, slumped there still.

  "He can come with us, can't he Mike?" asked Kyle. "We have a car and we are looking for a safe place to stay, it's why we are at the library."

  "Sure, you can come with us Al, we won't leave you here."

  "You are going to be my friends now?" asked Al, hope spreading across his gentle face. He had never been alone his entire life, days without human contact was not a feeling he thought he liked to have — he was a sociable kind of guy. If he liked you that is. If not then he would point-blank ignore you.