Zombie Dawn Apocalypse

by Michael G. Thomas

  CHAPTER 3

  Mexico

  The twenty-two survivors of Babylon traipsed on through the heat on their horses, glad of what community they had left. Their fuel had long since run out, the price paid for a nomadic lifestyle. There was not a man or woman amongst them who didn’t want to settle down into a new home, but they were all were too scared to do so after their loss nine years ago. All of them feared the unbearable hordes that seemed to ever seek them out, and therefore running was their only option.

  Madison pulled the shemagh down from her face and lifted her water bottle to her dry lips. She was wearing a close fitting woman’s biker jacket, the zip undone to let some air in. Their group had to be ready for combat at all times. Leather gloves hung from the cuffs of her jacket and she wore ski goggles over her eyes, to keep out both the sand and any infectious material. She was now in her late twenties, but the hard life showed on her weathered and worn face. Jack rode up and stopped next to her.

  “You ok?”

  “Not really,” she replied.

  “What is it?”

  “All this time we have been fighting to stay alive, but for what? You have to wonder if survival really is the best option when we have to live like this,” she sighed.

  “What would you have us do, lay down and die?” asked Jack.

  “It wouldn’t be so bad would it? Surely not worse than this, we’d go to heaven wouldn’t we?”

  Wells, her father, had been listening and so rode up to them.

  “Not if you let it happen, that would be suicide, and you’d go to hell!” he shouted.

  “Is this not hell already?” Madison asked him.

  “My dear, not the worst life on earth could ever be comparable to hell,” he answered.

  “We have less than half the people we did nine years ago, seems we’ll be dead before much longer anyway.”

  “If that is God’s will,” said Wells.

  “And you think God’s will was to wipe out humanity?”

  “Perhaps, to punish us for centuries of sin, or to purge the earth of evil, or to weed out the truly good among us and start afresh.”

  “That’s just crazy talk,” said Madison.

  “Madison! That’s enough!” shouted Jack.

  “Why, because the reality of this shit life might hurt someone’s feelings?”

  Jack rode closer to Madison so he could talk out of earshot of the others.

  “Yes, the morale of this group hangs by a thread, just because you’re willing to give up, it isn’t fair to drag others down with you.”

  “Maybe it’s time they accepted reality.”

  “And maybe it’s time you stopped whining like a little girl and used the time we have left on this planet wisely.”

  They could hear the sound of galloping approaching them, the sound of their point man returning, maybe with urgent news. They all looked up, alert and ready. Justin rode into sight.

  “What is it, lad?” asked Wells.

  “Zombies up ahead!” shouted Justin.

  “How many?” Jack asked him.

  “About a dozen, could be a handful more.”

  Jack looked over to Madison, “Perhaps this will take your mind off things, nothing like a bit of bloodlust to make one’s day,” he smiled.

  Madison sighed, but in all honesty she was relieved to have some excitement after the endless boredom of the last two days. She pulled her coat across and zipped it up, pulling her gloves on and placing her shemagh back across her face.

  “Right, people, time to break some skulls!” shouted Jack.

  Several of them cheered, eager for action. Because they led a nomadic life they avoided any large populace areas and so only ever came across small groups of creatures, not wanting to make the same mistake they had nine years before. They now made it their mission to utterly destroy any group of zombies they came into contact with, providing there were no more than thirty at any one time.

  Armour and gloves were pulled on, machetes and swords drawn, maces and axes pulled from saddles. When they lived in Babylon they had more guns and ammunition than they ever imagined they would need, but no longer, ammunition was a rarity that was kept for absolute emergencies only. Every man and woman in the group had carefully selected and planned protective gear, with complete skin coverage and thick leg and arm armour, so they could fight from horseback in safety. Madison drew a long hammer from her saddle and grasped the reins firmly with her left hand.

  “Everyone ready?” called Jack.

  The fatigued and dirty people nodded and grunted in agreement. Jack turned his horse around and kicked his heels in, launching himself towards their impending foe. They got up to pace, heading up a slight incline on the dusty and hard ground. Finally, they reached the top of a ridge and could see beyond, the creatures were scattered in a thirty-yard area before them. Without stopping to survey the situation, Jack raised his hatchet and continued onwards to his first target. The troops behind galloped on in a frenzied blood lust, excited to have a purpose and task.

  Jack reached his first victim and slammed the hatchet into the foul smelling beast’s forehead, the blade driving deep into its skull and sticking there. The speed at which Jack had been moving caused the axe to pull from his hand as he rode past and the zombie dropped to its knees. He slowed down and pulled a two handed club from his saddle, a steel bar with an iron ball welded onto the tip. The creatures began to flood towards him as he let go of the reins and focused all his attention on the head splitting mace he now wielded.

  Lifting the club above his head, Jack swung the big iron ball towards his oncoming target, the weight and trauma of the barbaric tool smashed its skull immediately and with ease, the force snapping the neck so that an ear rested on its shoulder. Madison reached Jack’s side and swung her hammer against her first target. The long shafted claw hammer was a fast and agile weapon compared to what many of them used, but it still dealt wicked damage when combined with Madison’s skill and accuracy. The small metal head of the hammer struck the very top of a zombie’s head, the inch and a half tip breaking through the skull.

  Pulling the hammer from her target, Madison swung horizontally against her next one, smashing the creature in the side of the head and sending it tumbling to her side. It was not quite dead, but its tumbling had sent it directly into the path of Justin’s horse that smashed the creature aside as if it had no mass or weight at all, its body finally broken.

  The nomadic group of the living sprawled out across the open plain, riding down every creature with a venomous hatred. In less than five minutes the small horde was a bloody incapacitated mess in the sand. The living dismounted and walked among their victims, finishing off any that showed signs of movement with one final strike.

  As the final blows were dealt their wagon, ridden by Dale, pulled into view. The wagon was their supply train. They used it to haul their food and water, as well as spare weapons and their larger tents. It was an old, rusty and beaten up Ford F250 truck, though barely recognisable as such. The hood, wings and cab roof had been removed to save weight. The engine and transmission long since ditched, it was barely more than a chassis with a tub with two horses rigged to pull it.

  Wells rode up to Madison as she stamped on the head of a crippled zombie to finish it off. Wells was far from the clean cut and well turned out pastor he used to be. The old pastor would still talk of God throughout most evenings, but even the least observant of the survivors could begin to see his faith dwindling as the years of desperate survival went by. Wells had become battle hardened, forcibly shrugging off many of his quibbles about violence.

  “Not a bad haul,” he said.

  “Not that it’ll make any difference,” she answered him.

  “But did it not at least make you feel better, more alive?”

  “Yes, it did that.”

  “Then it made a difference.”

  “And tomorrow nothing will have changed.”

  “This state of depression and misery is
not getting us anywhere. Just because you feel strongly it doesn’t make you right. What you have left is a community, and that is one of the few rarities in life worth treasuring. Think back to before all this began. Think how miserable many people made each other. So many selfish and self-centred individuals divided by envy and petty disputes, living a life of solitude more often through spite than reason. Now we have a group with a unified goal and direction in life, a real community,” said Wells.

  Madison finally stopped her sarcastic and biting ripostes and gave some thought to her father’s words. She remembered life before the Zompoc as perfect and everything after it as hell, but it was clear that was not the case. She was finally beginning to realise that without understanding God’s plan, the only purpose for the human race was to live life.

  Jack jumped onto his horse and rode up to Madison and Wells. He was about to speak when his eyes squinted to focus on something in the distance. He pulled out a pair of binoculars from his saddle as Madison and Wells looked around, desperately trying to make it out, constantly aware of the risks to them in the apocalyptic world they called home. He grinned and handed the binoculars over to Madison.

  “Looks like we’re feasting tonight!”

  She peered through the binoculars and finally panned to what Jack had seen, her eyes lit up.

  “A razorback!” shouted Madison.

  All in earshot turned to look, already imagining the meal they might get that evening.

  “Maddy, grab a few guys and some weapons and get that animal!” shouted Jack.

  “Fuck yeah!”

  Madison ran over to the wagon and pulled back the canvas cover. She pulled out a crossbow and a quiver of bolts kept for hunting purposes only, as no one would risk using bolts that had slain zombies, no matter how much they had been cleaned.

  “Justin, Riley, get your asses here!” shouted Madison.

  The two men rode up to the wagon as she drew two long spears from their supplies, she handed them to the men.

  “Take these, just remember that a razorback can run up the shafts, so let’s try and take it down with the crossbow first, you two need to watch my ass.”

  “Happy to watch it all day,” said Justin.

  She turned around with a scowl on her face and walked up to Justin who was still sitting on his horse. She reached up and grabbed his jacket, wrenching his head down towards her.

  “Listen you little bitch, we need that food, and if you fuck this up we could either go without or get seriously hurt. So get your head out of high school and into the game!” she shouted.

  She let her grasp go and with the crossbow in one hand leapt onto her horse. She rode on towards the razorback, stopping eighty yards short.

  “Quiet now.”

  The three hunters approached the razorback carefully until they were within fifty yards. Madison raised her hand to signal them to stop. She laid the crossbow stirrup on the ground and put her foot through to hold it in place, allowing her to cock the weapon. Raising the rifle crossbow carefully and smoothly, she drew a bolt from the quiver at her side and laid it to rest on the channel. She lowered to one knee and shouldered the weapon, looking down the red dot sight. She took a long calm breath, held it as she focused her aim until the breath was on the decline, and fired.

  The bolt soared into the razorback’s torso, its body recoiling slightly from the impact. Madison immediately cocked the crossbow again as the frenzied animal began to charge at them.

  “Do not hesitate!” she shouted.

  She slid the second hold onto the crossbow and quickly shouldered it, firing within a split second of it reaching the firing position. The bolt struck into the razorback’s shoulder as it was just fifteen yards from her, sending it into a tumble. As the wounded animal tried to recover Riley ran forward and quickly thrust his spear into the animal, until it finally went still. The three survivors sighed in relief.

  “Jesus, I thought zombies were stressful,” said Justin.

  “We just bagged ourselves the evening meal, boys!”

  Riley pulled his blood-covered spear from the animal and looked back at Jack who was watching impatiently though his binoculars. Riley thrust the spear triumphantly into the air to confirm their success. A few seconds later a roar of cheering rang out as Jack passed on the happy news.

  * * *

  It was dark now and the camp lit by several small fires, with the smell of meat cooking wafting around the hungry inhabitants. Riley and Billy had prepared the pig and it had been cooking on an improvised spit for hours. Madison and Jack sat atop the wagon whilst Dale, Greg and Joey were on patrol. The camp had a minimum of three on guard at all times, each and every man and woman knew that falling asleep could mean death for everyone.

  Madison was lying flat on the canvas of the wagon, peering up at the beautiful clear sky, whilst Jack sat up watching the fires, the conversation, and the pig. Night time was almost always the survivors favourite time of day, when they could relax and rest, the darkness camouflaging their bedraggled look. At night they could at least have the pretence of a normal life, before the fight for survival began each day, the constant travelling and foraging.

  “Not so bad is it?” asked Jack.

  “What is?”

  “Life.”

  “It has its moments,” said Madison.

  “And how is that any different to life before the zombies? We still worked crappy day jobs, had family arguments and long journeys. Now we just do the same, but without fast food chains,” said Jack.

  “Mmm, I could kill for a pizza.”

  “You know a lot of people used to wish for this sort of life, of simplicity, of a basic purpose in life, a driving force,” Jack said thoughtfully.

  “What fucking idiots,” Madison replied.

  “Really? Surely it’s instinctive to humans. We didn’t start with supermarkets, live news and fashion stores.”

  “No, but we progressed to it, and now we have stepped backwards,” she said.

  “And yet we used to meet people all the time who regretted so much of their lives, wasted and unfulfilled.”

  Madison sat up, not annoyed to have been interrupted in her star gazing, but more curious as to how the Zombie Apocalypse could be explained as a positive move for humanity.

  “You see, we now lead as natural a life as any creature could, survival of the fittest and all that,” Jack continued.

  “How do you mean?”

  “Well, surely we are now equal to all creatures on earth. Without our technology and vast industry we only have our natural, God given advantages to survive with,” said Jack.

  “Which are?”

  “Our brains, how many creatures can use a hammer, an axe or a gun? We’ve always been considered top of the food chain, perhaps it’s time we proved it, being as special as we are,” said Jack.

  “Yeah, well you can see how that went. We tried, we lost, now we’re second in the food chain.”

  “Far from it, we’re the predators, they’re the prey. Many predators can be taken down when facing superior odds of their prey, but like for like, we are still on top,” said Jack.

  “Then how do you explain the current apocalypse?”

  “Survival of the fittest,” Jack replied.

  “Well, not to rain on your parade, but we’re quickly getting extinct,” said Madison.

  “Maybe, but we still live as kings, and we’ll do it in style,” said Jack.

  Madison giggled.

  Dale walked casually up to the wagon, a fire axe slung over his shoulder and a machete on his belt as he patrolled.

  “That’s reassuring,” he said.

  “Haven’t you got work to?” Madison asked him.

  “I’m doing it, can’t you see?”

  He swung the axe down in front of him and clutched it in both hands, looking pleased with himself.

  “Well get on with it then,” said Jack.

  Dale grumbled and threw the axe back up onto his shoulder.

 
“I needed to piss anyway,” he said.

  He carried on walking and went thirty yards out from the perimeter of the camp to some bushes, until he found somewhere out of sight. Dale threw his axe down to the ground and unbuttoned his fly, sighing as he relieved himself. He buttoned his jeans back up and turned to pick up his axe but froze in shock at the sight of a zombie that was standing over his weapon, staggering slowly towards him. Quickly peering around he realised it was a lone creature and he relaxed a little.

  “Fuck me, you scared me you little bastard.”

  The creature was only a few paces away but was moving very slowly, as Dale drew his machete from its sheath.

  “Say hello to my little friend.”

  He took a single step forward and slammed the machete as hard as he could into the beast’s skull, splitting it deeply. Blood immediately spurted out, covering Dale’s sweater and face.

  “Ah, man! That’s fucking disgusting.”

  “Hey, Dale, you alright?” Jack called.

  “All fine, mate.”

  He looked down at his clothing, soaked with a thick disgusting blood.

  “God damn, I love this sweater.”

  He put the machete down and pulled the sweater off, throwing it down into a sloppy mess over the dead creature.

  “Thanks a lot, pal. Just what I needed, fucking zombies.”

  Blood dripped from his face onto his white t-shirt, he pulled it off and used it to wipe the blood from his face and hands before finally the blade of his machete. Now bare-chested, and at last respectable, he strolled back to the camp to find some replacement clothing.

  “Food’s ready!” shouted Riley.

  The survivors cheered, the most excitement they had shown all week. Madison and Jack had been sitting silently for the last few minutes, until Jack leapt off the wagon to head to the freshly cooked food.

  “You coming?”

  “Na, I’ll wait till the queue dies down,” said Madison.