The Apocalypse Chronicles (Book 2): New World [Undead]

by DeLeon, Jon

  As an answer to the shots, the ground all around them began to echo with a new sound: clawing and scraping, like fingernails scraping against a chalkboard. Hands were clawing against buried wood and rock. The sound sent a chill through Kurt’s body. He had always hated that sound. Now he was surrounded by it. It infiltrated every part of the camp and echoed through the tree around them. Hands started popping up through the dirt all across the camp. It looked like a terrible version of a whack-a-mole game. Undead arms and heads began springing from the dirt. They were everywhere. A hand shot up right between Kurt’s legs. He rolled to the side, escaping its reach. Kurt grabbed Philip’s handgun from its holster and pointed it at the waving, wriggling hand.

  “Tyler!” Liz screamed. Right behind Tyler’s left foot, a zombie head popped out of the ground, its gnashing jaws just a few inches from Tyler’s heel.

  Tyler spun around and fired a round straight through the zombie’s skull. It exploded.

  Another zombie popped up in the gap between Kurt and Philip. Another started to crawl out of the ground separating Liz and Tyler from Kurt. Kurt and Liz connected stares. “Run!” Kurt screamed. “Meet at the RV!”

  Kurt pushed himself backward, away from Philip and the zombie, turned and started running. He had the longer path to the RV, so he would have to run in a roundabout path. Kurt pulled hard on his backpack straps to seal it to his body as best as possible. The zombie that had separated him from Liz and Tyler pulled himself free from the ground and gave chase. Kurt took off, attempting to run around the tankers and then come back around to the RV.

  Tyler fired a round, killing a zombie that had half-excavated himself. “Let’s go, Liz!”

  “What about Philip?” Liz was still holding Philip’s hand.

  Tyler took a quick glance at the now-unconscious man and shot him in the face. “Run!” Liz was frozen in shock at watching Philip’s face explode in front of her. Tyler grabbed her. “Come on!”

  People were screaming, and undead assailants were everywhere. Their “safe” little village was now a hunting ground. It quickly became a game of deadly dodgeball. Kurt was doing well on his sprint for the tankers but couldn’t lose his focus. He turned to see how close the zombie chasing him was. In that split second, another zombie came around the side of the tanker Kurt was close to. Kurt tried to stop in his tracks, but the wet ground gave way. He slide tackled right between the zombie’s legs and right underneath the tanker. Kurt crawled frantically until he came up on the other side. He kept running. As he looked toward the RV parking area, now across the road, he saw the RV where Brigiette lived. It was rocking, and a bloody hand shot up onto the window. He paused for a second, thinking. “Shit,” Kurt cursed. He knew what he should do, but he didn’t want to. His pursuer came down the road. Its white, milky eyes hungered for Kurt. Kurt took off into the forest, leaving everyone else behind. The zombie was fast on his heels. It was up to Kurt’s running ability yet again.

  Florida Keys: Outbreak Day +45

  A slight chill ran through Kira as the late winter attempted to hold onto its cool. The morning air blew in from the south, carrying the scent of ocean loam. Kira was sitting in the gently rocking fishing boat, breathing in a deep breath of relaxation. Out here on the ocean was one of the greatest feelings in the world. She had gone to Miami Beach for the water. Sun-drenched days on a boat were all she had ever dreamed of. Growing up in a small town in Iowa, she had endured biting winters and sleet-consumed fall days. She had moved to the Sunshine State knowing no one and not having much money. It was a leap of faith, a step toward her dream. Since her mom had died, she had always wanted to escape. She was strong for her sister and their dad, but she had formed a desire. Kira wanted to live a different life, be a different person. She desperately desired freedom from the pressures of being strong. She had wanted to just be whoever she felt like. There wouldn’t be someone relying on her or telling her what was right or wrong. Kira wanted no real responsibilities, just to be free.

  A smile spread across her face. Fate, it seemed, had other plans. She was now a parent. Kira was a surrogate mother for Christine, Elizabeth and Jack. Now it wasn’t just about her survival but theirs too. It was a lot of pressure.

  Taking care of three small children was hard. It was taking its toll on Kira. Her fishing trips had slowly started to become longer and longer. Out here, there were no worries, no responsibilities and no fears. What if she did something wrong? Up to this point, she was trying her best. When in doubt, she would ask herself, “What would Mom have done?” It had worked so far. But what if she couldn’t be the mom these kids needed?

  It was all so much to bear. How do you take care of, console and discipline three small children who have lost their father, don’t know what happened to their mother and are stuck living on a boat a million miles away from home, all in the middle of the zombie apocalypse? She was only twenty-two years old, at least for a few more hours. At 11:00 a.m., Kira would be twenty-three.

  Today was Kira’s birthday. Growing up, birthdays hadn’t been a super-huge tradition, for Kira at least. Winter birthdays were less fun when the weather was cold enough to kill. Her sister’s summer birthday parties were always major events. They went to water parks, had group picnics with bonfires, had fun at Six Flags or had some other crazy adventure. Kira’s were usually at some indoor place that was just anywhere warm. She hadn’t told Joe or the kids that today was her birthday. With everything going on the last few months, the kids adjusting to not having their dad, constantly asking when they would see him again, and Joe gone so much with the military, it didn’t feel like a time to celebrate. So instead she had decided to have a celebration on her own. Her gift to herself was an extra ten minutes on the water this morning. Sitting there, not fishing, just relaxing. Just letting the world drift away for a little bit. No thoughts of anything specific allowed, just feeling the moment.

  Kira’s mind began to wander to memories of her past. She thought about happy childhood memories. Kira felt the warmth of a hug from her mother. The joy and carefree feeling of partying on the beach with her friends in Miami. She thought of her dad and sister setting up the Monopoly board as a Christmas tradition. She would never see them again. She would never hear their voices. She thought about them more deeply. Could she still see their faces?

  What about Joe? Could she his face? Yes. Kira could recall every pockmark, every curve and dimple in his face. Was he okay? A feeling of longing overwhelmed her, and she began to cry. It had been weeks since she had seen or even heard from him. Not knowing if he was going to come back was torture. She needed his help with the kids, but that wasn’t all. There was something else, something that had been growing since he rescued her from that office in Miami Beach.

  At first, Kira had denied it. She assumed it had to be the result of a false sense of attraction that only came from his saving her. It had to be. Weeks had passed, and that little spark in her heart hadn’t died out; it had flared. The shock of what happened had worn off. Still, she felt a longing to feel his arms around her. Kira felt stupid. She hadn’t even hugged the guy. She needed to grow up and become more than she was. She had people who relied on her now. None of what she told herself mattered. There was something real in her feelings for him. She began to dream of Joe as the gentle waves rocked the boat. Kira allowed herself to slip into a waking dream.

  She saw him walking down the row of ships. Kira ran out the back, bounding to him. He caught her with his arms open wide, spinning her in a big circle. He pulled her close and stared into her eyes. She leaned closer as the distance between their lips lessened, until . . .

  BEEP, BEEP, BEEP

  Her dream came crashing down around her. The Casio on her wrist had brought Kira back to reality a half-second too soon. The fishing trip was over. It was time to return to normal life. The birthday-trip bonus time was over. Kira reeled in her lines that still lay baited in the water. Looking at her catch, she was proud. Today had been a great day. The ship was filled w
ith three quotas’ worth of fish. Today she would get a good amount of fuel and extra barter.

  Kira opened the notebook she had taken from Hank and checked the spot she had fished today off the list. She was careful to keep a random rotation to the list. Overfishing one area would drain it of its catch, and establishing too steady a pattern could teach the fish to avoid her. Putting the notebook carefully away in her front jeans pocket, Kira turned the boat on and steered back toward Key West.

  Kira pulled into the Key West Marina around 11:00 a.m. After getting her fuel allotments and turning in one of her catch baskets, she sailed around the cove to a long, makeshift pier. It had been built to barter and sell fish and fishing supplies. Kira piloted the small boat to a yellow canopy and tied up. A large woman edged up to the side of the dock. She wore bright-yellow flip-flops, a bright-yellow sundress and an ivory thatch hat. At almost 300 pounds, she was a massive figure.

  “Hello, dearie! How was this morning?” The woman looked down at the catch in Kira’s boat.

  “It was great, Frannie!” Kira lifted the first of the two quota baskets onto the pier.

  Frannie leaned closer over the basket, inspecting the fish. Kira hefted the second basket up next to the first. Frannie wiggled her nose.

  “They look smaller than usual, my dear.”

  Kira wasn’t buying it. “Nice try, Frannie. The usual price sound fair?”

  Frannie smiled yes.

  Kira dealt with Frannie because she was consistent. Kira may have been able to haggle for more with other vendors, but after time, they would want to get better deals or favors. Frannie was straightforward. That was worth a little less profit. Frannie shuffled, shifting her weight side to side and opened up a locked trunk. She pulled out some fishing line, hooks, lures and a rare power-bait pack. Frannie handed them to Kira, who in turn, examined each one. Kira nodded approvingly.

  Next Frannie gave Kira a bar of soap and a stack of gold coins. Gold had become the currency accepted by all the vendors. Kira hopped down into her boat.

  “How do you keep bringing in this kind of catch?” Frannie asked.

  “Maybe it’s just because I’m that good.” Kira smiled at Frannie.

  “Oh, dear, I’m not complaining, but no one is that good.” Frannie tilted her head down, looking through cocked eyes at Kira.

  “I guess I am.”

  “Mm-hmm.” Frannie wasn’t buying it.

  “I just know all the spots.”

  “How?”

  Kira smirked. She pulled the notebook out of her pocket and waved it. “I have a secret weapon.”

  Frannie laughed, reeling back on her heels as a smile spread across her face. “Dearie! You are full of surprises.”

  Kira answered with a shrug of her shoulders. She revved the engine. “See you tomorrow, Frannie.” And she steered toward the Marquis, heading home with her bounty in hand.

  The dark shadows consumed him. His roost was well thought out and picked. He watched Kira closely from under a sea-worn wood overhang. His eyes tracked her as she sailed away from the market dock. Smoke slid out of his mouth from a hand-rolled cigar. It billowed and curved around his nose and slid around the bill of his cap.

  He had had too many catchless days. Now this little girl had found something. Something he needed. The red notebook burned through his retinas. Now he only needed the right moment. Soon that notebook and the knowledge of those secret spots would be his. Nothing would stand in the way of Chester Almont. It was time to start implementing his scheme. A sickly smile crept across his lips as he slinked away down the dock.

  Florida Keys: Outbreak Day +62

  Joe sat up from his metal bed. He had fallen asleep on the bench inside the helicopter. Over the last three weeks, his fire squad had been engaged in so many missions that he couldn’t keep track anymore.

  The fight for land had been steady. Executing the plan and saving the random stranded person was working, but he had gotten little to no rest. A few weeks earlier, a distress call had come from the main oil rig that supplied fuel for the military. Someone had taken Enerjax by accident, mistaking it for Advil. Everyone had died before the two fire teams arrived. The fire teams themselves lost a few men clearing the platform. Joe’s team had been on their mandatory rest at the time, so his men were saved, but he still felt the losses. One fire team had to stay on the rig to operate it with a few men transferred from another rig. The commander had suspended the required break policy to keep up with the same need with fewer men. Joe was tired.

  His boots hit the floor of the chopper with a loud clang as he swung himself to a sitting position. Joe rubbed his face with his hands, attempting to rub some feeling back into his skin. He rolled his head from side to side, cracking joints and releasing a kink that had settled into his upper back. He looked at his all-black G-Shock watch. It had been a gift from his brother a few years ago. The timepiece was his good luck charm. As long as he wore the watch, he felt invincible. He felt his brother’s love. I hope you’re still out there, Kurt.

  At 07:34, it was time to move. With a large exertion of energy, Joe climbed off the bench and out of the helicopter. The briefing for this morning was scheduled to begin at 08:00. His team was leading the first mop-up of the next Key on their way up the chain of islands.

  “Hey, Captain.” Martinell walked up, sounding concerned.

  “Yeah, I’m coming,” Joe said, shaking the last cobwebs from his head.

  “What? Oh, the brief. Yeah, you got a few minutes. But uh, uh, I have to tell you something. Well . . .” Martinell was having trouble talking.

  “Spit it out, man, it’s too early.”

  “Okay.” Martinell took a big breath, gathering himself. “You said your parents were on the Aleutian Dream, right?”

  “Yeah,” Joe answered.

  “Well I heard from the comm. guys who are in communication with a Coast Guard unit in Alaska. They had news of your mom and dad’s cruise ship.”

  “Well?” Joe asked.

  “Apparently the Coast Guard found it floating at sea, and well, it was something terrible. I’m sorry, man.”

  Joe felt his stomach drop. “Thanks.”

  “Yeah, I thought you should hear from someone you know. I’ll see you in the brief.”

  Don’t think about it now. Save that shit, Joe thought to himself, steeling his nerves for what he had to do next. Joe became a rock. He walked into the briefing room and sat down on a hard chair. It matched his countenance. There were still a few minutes until the brief. Joe felt for the first time how much he didn’t want to be there. He had heard this same thing so many times. It was the same plan. He could restate it from memory at this point. It hadn’t changed. It didn’t need too. It was working. The only thing that changed was the name of the stupid island they moved on to. Joe didn’t even know what Florida Key they were up to at this point. They weren’t even Keys anymore, just mixes of palm trees, bloody sand and screaming zombies. Joe’s last few weeks had been a blurry horror show.

  They were only animals. The zombies were controlled only by their natural instincts, simple creatures of hunger and habit. Compared to Joe’s trained and now battle-hardened fire team, it wasn’t even fair. Joe’s team had never lost a man and had sent hundreds of the undead back to the full-dead stage. Today would be no different.

  Joe began to daydream of the soft bed on the Marquis yacht harbored just a few miles away. Joe hadn’t been back since New Year’s. There hadn’t been time. He could picture Kira and the children. He hoped they were doing well and had stayed safe. They were his responsibility. He had pulled them all out of the mayhem of South Beach. Now he didn’t even know if they were okay. Did they have enough fuel or enough food? Joe felt a twinge of guilt spike through his body. Was what he was doing worth it? The missions were slowly regaining and clawing back piece by piece a world that didn’t exist anymore. What would they find when they reached the mainland? Was it worth it?

  “Attention on deck!”

  Joe
was jolted from his depressed chain of thought and stood at attention. The Navy insisted on using ship vernacular even though the ready room was inside a building on land.

  Commander Church, the officer in charge of organizing the island-hopping maneuvers, stood at the front of the room, behind a folding table.

  “At ease. Good morning, everyone. We’ve all been here before, so I won’t be overly descriptive. Today’s mission is to secure the opposite side of this bridge.”

  The commander pushed a button, and a satellite image came up on a projector screen behind him. The image showed a bridge that had a small section missing from the center. The Navy had destroyed it with C4 explosives. On one side of the burned-out bridge was the smoking remains of the target island. A black cloud obstructed most of the view.

  “As you can see, the terrain is a little different than before. There are no mangrove swamps near the shore here. One side of the road is covered in palm trees, and the other is plain, flat ground, a fill-in for a residential development that didn’t get a chance to happen. Unfortunately it appears the bombing runs hit an underground tank of oil. This black smoke is the burning residue of that oil. It should clear before you arrive. We are currently bombing the bridge on the other side of the island, sealing it off. Once the fire teams have secured the other side, our engineers will be bridging across, followed by ground troops.” The image on the screen went blank, and the commander took his place in the center of the room. “Combatant levels are estimated to be minimal, but be careful. We have been receiving strange reports from the lookouts on the ships.”

  A young sergeant echoed from the back of the small room. “What kind of reports?”

  “Apparently the zombies have been attacking trees, and they are reporting dust mixed in with the smoke. That’s all they could say.”