Zombpocalypse (Book 1): Contingency

by Mariah Lynde

  On the other side of that, paranoia had served to save my behind more than once. That same paranoia would likely be what saved me this time around as well.

  Erring on the side of caution, I climbed into the Explorer and set out on my excursion aptly titled, ‘Operation Pointy Things’. Giving my little to-do list a title like that served to keep me amused while I conquered my objectives. Besides which, the sooner I got this done, the sooner I could get home and dig that old compound bow out of the closet.

  Chapter Fourteen – Running With Scissors…

  It had been the day from hell.

  Five sporting goods stores, two phone calls from my various credit card companies, several purchases, and a full car later – I felt the need to punch people in the throat. As if that wasn’t enough, my crappy mood did not help matters any and I chalked it up as a personal win on my part that I had managed to restrain myself from physically assaulting anyone during said outing. Still, dealing with people in said stores had been enough to make me want to turn around, go home, and then return to just bust out shop windows and grab what I wanted.

  By the time I made it back home, I was angry enough to spit nails. Not that it would have done me any good. There was no one in my general vicinity to spew my ire towards, and today there was no ‘fuck you’ war to be had. Sadly, that meant I was left to handle my crappy mood in my own way.

  It was for just that reason I experienced such a readiness to dig out my old compound bow. While just this morning I had been dreading it, right now the idea of shooting sharp objects at some kind of target was something I could definitely get on board with.

  On the plus side, Operation Pointy Things had been a success, despite the rather rude and clueless staff I’d been forced to deal with. I can admit that eliminating any form of gun as a possible weapon forced me into another manic state of mind. Wandering through the first of the sporting goods stores, I found myself picking up random objects to weigh them and manipulate their movements in order to determine their feasibility as weapons.

  I will be honest with you, when faced with the possibility of fighting for your own survival, things around you take on a whole new definition and perspective. Take, for instance, something within a sporting goods store as simple as a bowling ball. To the average person, this is an object that you see as completely benign. The biggest threat it poses to anyone would be a broken toe if you happened to drop it on your foot. On any normal day, not many people would look twice at a ball painted in shades of fluorescent neon colors and think of it as a bludgeoning tool.

  However, this day just happened to be one that was not so normal. Being that I am a female gamer with obsessive compulsive tendencies and an active imagination, it was as if I’d found the holy grail of weaponry. Okay, not so much when you took into account the size and weight of the object, but to be fair – one is not exactly thinking clearly when in a manic frame of mind. Who could blame me, though?

  Here I was, finally getting a few days off work, but it was under no normal circumstance that I could logically fathom. There also happened to be the little matter of cracking open the skull of a woman who had been dead by all accounts, and had come back playing Pac-Man with the people around her. In my mind, the zombie apocalypse had already begun. To that end, I will admit that I went a tad overboard on considering certain things as weapons.

  Two stores and three bowling balls later, I actually had a brief moment of rational thought. It occurred to me that I had seriously jumped off the deep end. Not that it could be considered a long damn trip, but for some reason my mind had finally put the brakes on my somewhat overactive imagination.

  Cool as it might have seemed to improvise some sort of bowling ball-based weapon, in reality I could not think of one feasible way to make that work. On average, bowling balls were ten pounds of dead weight that require you to grip it awkwardly with one hand. By way of force and gravity, using a bowling ball as a weapon would be tiring for anyone. More than that, it would also make for awkward moments and a lack of space to operate with some kind of safety net.

  No, bowling balls would not do as a weapon, at least not in active battle. Maybe later when we got some kind of compound set up for our little group of survivors, they could be used for something else. I mean, I was all for having a couple of Home Alone moments by dropping them onto the unsuspecting brain munchers trying to get a free snack – but for now, they wouldn’t be much use to anyone.

  That particular realization cooled my ardor on buying anymore of the suckers, and forced me into considering more practical solutions. Right around the time I was in the middle of the third sporting goods store and the fervor over bowling ball chucking had ended, my mind had focused on more appropriate weapons of choice for the oncoming storm.

  While this statement may seem innocuous enough, there were still other items that could be used as improvised weapons. Fortunately, Miss Gush and Flow from the day before had given me a small bit of insight as to certain facts that had not been outlined in the material available to us all about zombies.

  One thing I could say about those movies, books, and television shows was that one rule seemed to hold true; a good crack to the skull seemed to incapacitate them. Well, her. That particular scenario had proven that metal objects as weapons came with a price. Even though I had decided metal weaponry would be completely out in my little quest for survival, that position was one I greatly began to reconsider as I stood in the middle of an aisle lined with baseball equipment.

  Was that the moment where I completely lost my mind? Probably.

  Seeing the metaling bats with their insulated handles and cloth tape was a forceful slap to kick my mind back in gear. Of course!

  The fire extinguisher had been so damaging because of a lack of cushioning and insulation, but things like bats or golf clubs would likely not be as harsh to deal with. Thus, the plan for my shopping trip changed, and by the time I had returned home, my car had been filled to the brim with odd knick-knacks and equipment from varying sporting goods stores.

  On one side of things, I suppose I should have been a little more relieved that my trip had been a success. On the other side, hours of dealing with snarky clerks, impatient people, pithy credit card representatives, and incompetent cashiers had me well and truly ready to do damage to whatever or whoever got in my way first. A part of me hoped that the moment I got out of the Explorer I’d be faced with the likes of Ms. Hawthorne. Such was not to be, it seemed.

  The whole of the complex looked to be desolate as I stepped out onto the pavement. To me it seemed isolated and more than a little eerie. I mean, while I had not been known to be here during daylight hours most days, this just seemed weird.

  On the surface it would have been the perfect scene for a greeting card inviting you to some idyllic little gated community. To me, it was a picture that screamed of inevitable death. The walls surrounding the complex were three feet of brick with three and a half feet of wrought iron filigreed railing topping it. In that moment, I saw it for what it was: an illusion of safety.

  True, under any other circumstances, that fence might prove to be effective. It was a stop gap of sorts for random circumstances that could cause harm, but my thoughts were already turning elsewhere. Runaway car from the freeway, wild hogs running through the streets – these were just some of the scenarios that I could see that fence being useful against. However, my mind happened to be focused on the possibility of an incursion of undead brain munchers that would have little to no thought about throwing themselves against that perimeter to gain access to the free meals within.

  Yeah, I know. Twisted train of thought, but the sad fact is I had to admit it was true. Simple red brick and filigreed iron will do very little to stave off a full horde of mindless creatures that have a singularly primal goal. When faced with the question of one’s own survival, there are considerations that become very real. You might think less of me for really not taking into consideration the other people that lived in my compl
ex, but that’s the thing about survival. You can only help others in as much as you can help yourself. As was proven by my cohorts in the McGinley building yesterday, if you don’t think about your own safety, you will eventually become part of the problem.

  While I adored the thought of my little duplex apartment with its hidden underground hidey hole, if the world exploded into chaos, staying in this place any longer than necessary after the plague hit would be a death sentence. Best case scenario, I had several weeks. That particular outcome would almost definitely work in my favor, but being who I am, there was also the possibility of the worst case scenario.

  If that worst case happened to be the outcome I faced, I’d have a couple of days maximum to try and get the hell out of dodge. While not a pleasant circumstance to consider I knew that it had to be explored.

  Peering around the complex now, I couldn’t help but think that I needed to get myself in gear. Irritated as I was about the way my day had gone, I knew I had far more to do. Any research I wanted to handle could wait until the sun had set. For now, I wanted to make use of what daylight remained to burn off my irritation and hopefully work on my targeting skills.

  The conversation with Robbie this morning laid heavily on my mind. No matter what I tried, I could not shake the idea of that camping trip with my family. The longer I thought about it, the more I knew our combined brain child about my mother alluding to that trip had to be right. While I wanted to pat myself on the back for my brilliance, there also happened to be a healthy level of disgust at the idea of picking up that compound bow and teaching myself to shoot…again.

  To be honest, I know that disgust is probably not the right word for what I felt. If I had to choose any other word to describe my feelings on the matter, it would be perturbed.

  You’d think that it would be over the scenario of the world ending via brain and flesh munching freaks, but nope. My ire stemmed from my parents having been right with their whole ‘pick up skills like archery because you just never know when it’ll come in handy’ lesson.

  My aim sucked − that much was apparent. I would have far preferred learning to shoot a rifle or a handgun than the compound bow I had been given. I wish things had been different but they weren’t.

  There was a fleeting thought in my head to say ‘screw it’ and go inside to just veg out for the rest of the day in front of my computer. It would be easy enough to justify my actions by saying I used that time to research different subjects that would be beneficial to the whole of the group just in case this zombie apocalypse thing actually happened. However, I knew if I did that, in two months if the world was overrun with zombies and I happened to be fighting to survive, I’d be cursing myself for not going out when I had a chance to practice.

  Decisions, decisions…

  In the end, my instinct for survival won.

  This decision served two distinctly different purposes. The first of these being my lack of practice with said weapon to be effective with it. While I would love to say I am the equivalent to a female Daryl Dixon, that is not the case. If I wanted to have a hope in hell of surviving then I needed to get my butt in gear and find a way to put down any targets before they get close to me.

  However, the second purpose that this served was in feeding my own laziness. Between my little confrontation last night and the shopping trip today, the last thing I wanted to do was unload my car and face the can of worms that would be taking inventory. Yes, I may have a form of OCD, but my lack of motivation when it came to things I’d rather not do was pretty freaking strong.

  If I could give myself a little bit of a break in the middle of this nightmare, I would take it. I’d already spent much of the day on my little outing that I promised the group. God knows I needed the breathing room and if that meant digging out a long forgotten relic from my past and going out to make a fool of myself, so be it.

  The silence settled over my little gated community was downright eerie. A shiver of apprehension raced down my spine as I ventured a quick scan of the parking lot. If things were really bad, I’d have heard something on the radio, right? I mean, I’d driven all over God’s creation today and there’d been no mention of anything out of the ordinary on the major stations, so…I had to be overreacting.

  Turning towards the door to my apartment, I fished out the key to the lock and then scrambled to get inside. Already in my mind images of my possible demise at the hands of some rotting corpse began playing out in mind-numbing displays that only served to kick my apprehension up to a near frenzy.

  Only when my back touched the door did I breathe a small sigh of relief. Little did I know that it was only a temporary alleviation of my fear. My throat burned, a harsh abrasive pull of air making me realize that I had pushed myself towards hyperventilation. Leaning back to take stock of my current state of being, I struggled to even out my breathing.

  Closing my eyes, I forced myself to take deep, slow breaths while I did an assessment of my current condition. Letting my mind take in and catalogue each small physical sign that my body was giving. The brush of air across my skin made me shiver as I realized that my flesh had dotted with beads of sweat at some point. My pulse was thrumming like the beat of a hummingbird’s wings, so much so that I could feel the pressure at the side of my throat. Right now, my body was pretty much on strike and I had just noticed.

  Stress had finally won out and taken control of my mind and body. Untarnished, unabridged, and crippling in its intensity as it threatened to choke the life out of me. The realization that this could likely be the end of the world as I knew it suddenly crashed in on me.

  In the last twenty-four hours, I had seen a woman with her throat bitten out expire and then shoot back up to use people as chew toys. I had heard the accounts of not one, but two people I trusted implicitly on similar situations in a city more than three hours away. To top all of that off, I had not only been warned that I would be told not to come into work today, but that the reason behind it was some unknown outbreak. While I still had no confirmation on a sickness or outbreak in the general area, I had been called and told that the McGinley building was closed for the next couple of days.

  Each incident by itself was relatively harmless in nature. There could be any number of reasons to explain each different scenario on its own. However, all of these things together in a relatively short amount of time…did not seem like mere coincidence. No matter how many different ways I tried to justify, explain, or logic my way into a feasible and non-detrimental reason for all of these events, I just couldn’t do it.

  If you really thought about it, the whole of my life, from childhood to college, student to EMT, had been fraught with incidents of horrendous luck. If a situation could go wrong, it would go wrong. It stood to reason that with so many accounts being reported of mindless attacks spread out from here, to my parents and best friend back home, and then of course somewhere in Canada – just solidified my stand on this whole situation. That inkling that had been living in the back of my mind, that little blinking light of warning that refused to let up could no longer be ignored. This whole thing was real.

  There could only be a few ways that all of this could play out. No matter which scenario it was, I knew what I would be facing. People would likely say I had lost my mind, cracked under the pressure of a crap job and isolation from my family if I started getting vocal about what was happening. It helped to know if I went running through the streets decrying the end of the world I’d likely be arrested, so at least I could avoid that part.

  Leading up to full blown chaos, no one would believe anything I had to say. For a moment, I debated what explanation, if any, I could give to have an emergency archery lesson. Obviously, using the truth behind my urgency was not an option available to me. By the same token, if anyone came looking for a reason as to why I had the sudden need to improve my proficiency with the long forgotten compound bow, I needed something viable. I also needed to be comfortable with whatever weapons I chose to use for my s
urvival.

  I could no longer simply hide behind my computer screen to keep my head buried in the sand. Well I could, but then I likely wouldn’t survive for very long when things got crazy.

  What made this moment any different than the ones before where I had been almost gleeful about there being a sudden zombie outbreak? To be fair, this was something entirely different. On the one hand, that nerdy geek part of me that thrived on good zombie antics had just found justification that some things, no matter how unlikely, could still happen despite all odds. You know, that whole Ian Malcom ‘Nature…finds a way’ moment.

  However, this latest moment of realization was completely different and one that could break you. It is one thing to realize that one of your long time obsessions is becoming a reality – but it is quite another to realize that the whole of your world is about to be redefined and changed. A simple life of safety behind walls and convenience would long be forgotten by the time this epidemic ended. More than that, there were no set rules of nature, no laws to define balance for something like this. There was only an ever present danger that kicked the theory of natural selection up a few rungs. No longer would the world be defined by how much money you had or your social status among the elite of the world. Instead you would be measured and weighed by your ability to contribute in the effort to survive.

  Simply being smart or strong, being popular or creative would not be enough on its own. Those who would survive had to adapt to the world around them, and that meant stepping outside of your comfort zone to take on skills you wouldn’t normally dream of even attempting. In my case, that meant stepping away from the computer and back into the world of archery.

  I cannot describe how I felt as I made my way through the small apartment. If there was a word to describe it, I think the best and most simple word to sum it all up would have been panic. My heartbeat refused to calm, and every time I took in a breath it felt like fire was scraping down the interior of my throat.