Contents
Title Page
Copyright
Dedication
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Preface
Chapter 1: Trouble Starts - Thursday
Chapter 2: Z-Day
Chapter 3: Discoveries
Chapter 4: Blinds
Chapter 5: Venturing Out - Friday
Chapter 6: Supplies
Chapter 7: Decisions
Chapter 8: New Beginnings
Chapter 9: Doctor's Orders
Chapter 10: Homecoming
Chapter 11: Plans and Promises
Chapter 12: Unexpected Friends
Chapter 13: Knights
Chapter 14: Grocery Shopping
Chapter 15: Regrouping
Chapter 16: Investigations
Chapter 17: The Legion Hut
Chapter 18: Cowards and Heroes
Chapter 19: The Reconning
Author's Note
About the Author
Title Page
Hunting Season:
A Zombie Survival Story
By Chris Stoesen
February 22, 2017
Version 1.00
Copyright
Copyright © 2017 Chris Stoesen
All rights reserved.
Dedication
To my wife and son for their love and support. A special thanks is owed to the talents of Philip McClimon for his H.E.L.L series. They are excellent stories that provided plenty of fodder for my imagination. To the Sprinters, a better writing group than I deserve to be part of. Thanks to my beta readers, y’all rock. Lastly, a big thank you to Aaron Miller who made the cover. Great job!
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Preface
The room was small with concrete walls, floors, and ceiling. A single bulb dangled from above, with a switch on the wall. My back was against the wooden door. My breathing was hard and labored. Blood dripped from the wound on my calf. The bullet graze was painful, but not life threatening. I prayed that I had lost them. There were so many. That was when the door knocked against my head and threw it forward. They found me and were pounding on it to get to me.
The beating on the door increased. Pushing the eject button of the Glock, the magazine fell free into my hand. Looking at the holes on the side, I had seven more rounds, including the one in the chamber. I slammed it home. The impacts sounded like a mad drummer performing a solo. I could hear the wood creak and then crack.
Scuttling crab-like, I turned and scooted backward till my back came in contact with the wall. Now the door was three feet away from me. Taking a two handed grip, I aimed. Damn, I was sweating hard. My hands shook with fear. What was on the other side of that door or rather who would come through?
The underarms of my shirt were wet with sweat. It ran down my face and into my eyes, stinging them and making it harder to see. Then in the blink of an eye, the single bulb hanging from the ceiling went out. Looking at the door, there mustn’t have been any light in the hallway either as there was no glow underneath.
Still, the pounding continued. Each thump compromised the structure of the wooden door. It creaked and groaned in protest. I didn’t want to die. I was sure I could take at least a few more with me. One conscious thought poured into my head in the last seconds of that door, "How did I get here?"
Chapter 1: Trouble Starts - Thursday
Growing up in a small town, you quickly learn that gossip is the fastest method of spreading the news. A good tidbit on a new family can spread faster than physics states is possible. Within minutes, it becomes a fact that everyone knows. The oddest part is that no one claims to spread it. My Sunday school class has eleven girls in it. None of them gossips, or so they say. Yet, they seem to know everything and everyone's business.
Now we're laying back in the bed of my truck watching the sun go down over the lake. Sharon just popped the top of a Coke can. On the horizon, the sunset is beautiful. The colors are being reflected off of the glass surface of the pond. Out here, the radio station comes in clear. Closer into town, it's right at that point where the Atlanta and the Mid Georgia station fight each other for control. On game days, it's kind of funny. One station carries Georgia Tech while the other Georgia. But here, we're kicking back and listening to that old Van Halen tune Summer Nights. Sharon is going along with it and her feet are swaying to the beat.
That is part of the reason, I like Sharon Buckley. She likes my music. Well, it's Daddy's as he grew up in the 80s. Also, she is still too new to get involved in the local gossip chain. As it often happens with new people, she is the recent subject of much it.
Her family moved here from Atlanta just before school started at the end of the summer. I didn’t meet her until the first day of school. We met in homeroom. We hit it off rather well that first day. I was more charming than usual. She had the look of someone who needed a friend. It also helped that she was easy on the eyes. She didn’t dress like she was looking for attention, but she got mine.
Her daddy is a high priced Atlanta lawyer who sold his practice to come to Monticello, Georgia. True, we aren’t that far from the state capital but there is justn’t that much of anything out here except land and deer. Sharon told me that her Dad represented the folks at the CDC. That's the Centers for Disease Control. Must have made good money at it. When they moved into town, they took over the old McDugal place. It's one of the biggest houses in town. Personally, I think much of the gossip was just plain jealousy.
Who am I, you ask. Well, my name is Daniel Edward Jacob. Yep, I have three first names. It's just one of those things. I’m a good old boy. I like to hunt and fish. Just finished my Eagle Scout last year, so I have that going for me. My family farm is just to the west of town. We have cows and chickens. But daddy's money comes from this on-line business he started. He made a fish and game app with a subscription service. He can now spend about ten hours a week on the app and the rest of the time is he can do as he pleases. For some odd reason, he wants to farm. He tells me that is what a good education can get you - choices. He is a Georgia Tech grad. The other kid's parents here all either went to Georgia, that's the University of Georgia for those of you from out of state, or act like they did. During football season, everyone has a black and red flag hanging from their car or house. I think ours is the only one with a white and gold banner.
Anyway, when I first asked Sharon out on a date, she was very nervous. I didn't know why, but when I got to her house, her Daddy greeted me at the door with a shotgun. It wasn’t so bad. He wasn’t pointing it at me. It was one of those coach guns you see advertised on-line from Century Arms. It wasn’t a genuine antique but one of the new Chinese Norinco knock-offs that they sell rather cheap.
I took one look at it and asked him, "sir, is that the Norinco coach gun? You know they are no good with magnum loads right? I don't think I would trust them with anything larger than a two and three-quarter shell and bird shot at that. Norinco is a decent gun company but the shotguns always seemed cheaply made. But that is just my opinion."
Looking back on it, I suppose that wasn’t the right way to greet the man, but I followed it up without making things worse. Also, his grip on the shotgun loosened up. That was a bonus.
"Sir, my name is Daniel Jacob. I would li
ke to take your daughter out to dinner tonight, if that is all right with you, sir. Is there a specific curfew time I need to follow?"
That was key. You had to be respectful of the parents at all times. He asked the normal follow-up questions about where we were going and my intentions for the evening. I responded with solid parent approved answers. Between Daddy and Pastor Billy Barnes, they had drummed manners and good behavior into my thick skull. By the third date, we had fallen into a routine. That was a few months ago. Tonight's date, I had brought a map and showed him where we were parking to watch the sun set. He still doesn’t know what to think of me.
Sharon told me that her Dad forced them to move that summer. Just up and left everything behind. She was mad at first but then she said the look of fear on his face frightened her. He told her that things were going on in there that he needed to get away from.
She didn't know more than that, but I bet old Ed Hoskins would love to hear it. He is a tinfoil hat wearing nut of the first order. He has conspiracy theories of conspiracy theories. You give that man thirty minutes and you will leave with a headache and suspect everything you know. I’m sure, he would have something to say about Sharon's daddy running from Atlanta.
Quite frankly, I’m glad he did. I can't watch the sunset, all I can do is look at the girl.
Chapter 2: Z-Day
"Oh, shit, did you see that?" Sharon sat up in her lounge chair in the truck and pointed West to the horizon.
I pulled my eyes off of Sharon and looked where she was pointing. There was a fading second sunset. I scratched my head and before I could utter 'what the hell' the radio dropped the song and began that annoying ass radio warning they do before they announce a test of the emergency broadcast system.
"Attention, Attention. This isn’t a test. We have received news of an event at the CDC in Atlanta. We believe terrorists have attacked the CDC and released a biological or chemical agent. It is unclear if there is a relation to the events earlier this week in Colorado. The military has the Colorado facility under quarantine. As a safeguard measure, the CDC has enacted their Sampson Protocol and destroyed the compound to avoid the potential release of any dangerous materials out beyond the control of the building. The explosion in Atlanta and the subsequent fireball is the result of the Sampson Protocol. Stay tuned for further updates."
Sharon looked over at me with fear in her eyes. I must have appeared rather frightened too. Hell, everyone knew the CDC has some nasty stuff hidden away in there. Who wants the Black Plague, smallpox or galloping gonorrhea loose again or who knows what else. OK, I admit it. I made up galloping gonorrhea. But still, it sounds bad, right? Dangerous Materials must have been a euphemism for that sort of thing. That means there was someone who was trying to release it. What kind of freak would do that?
The loud blare of the EBS came back on to close out their announcement. Then instead of music or the DJ, a news reporter was on the air.
"This is Vijay Singh reporting live from near Emory University in Atlanta. This is as close as I can get to ground zero of the blast at the CDC. As the dust has cleared, we can’t see any of the CDC buildings. The force of the blast went down into the subterranean levels of the complex. We have seen several people stagger towards us from the direction of the explosion. First responders have still not arrived at the scene. I was on the Emory Campus visiting my daughter when the explosion occurred. Campus Police have tried to cordon off the area. The confused survivors have attacked those who have gone to help them. As you can see around me, people are stumbling in to the roadblock that the police had set up. Many are wounded and bleeding. I… Hey! I’m live on the air. No, don't take that…"
The air went dead for a moment before a new voice took over.
"We are sorry but we are experiencing some technical difficulties. Once we reestablish contact with Mr. Singh, we will get you more updates on what is happening. We also have reports of a similar incident at Fort Detrick, Maryland."
Sharon shook, "Can you take me home, please? I need to see my Daddy."
"Sure thing baby, let's get going."
I hopped out of the bed of the truck and helped her out. We missed the end of the sunset that night. She climbed into the cab and buckled her seat belt while I was strapping down the lounge chairs in back. No sense in having them fly out when I hit highway speeds. By the time I got into the cab, she was on the phone.
"Yes, Daddy. He is taking me home now. We heard on the radio." She listened before responding, "What do you mean don't stop for anyone no matter what?"
I had the truck started and in gear. I pulled out slow as I didn’t want to tear up the earth too much in front of the pond. That is where we duck hunt. I don't want to leave anything that might scare them off, anyway.
"Daddy, you are scaring me. What do you mean it's the end of the world? You sound like you have been watching those late night movies again. Have you been drinking again?" Sharon was looking pale. The worry in her voice was a little unnerving.
She turned her head and asked, "He wants to know how many guns you have?"
I could only laugh. Her eyes turned hard and her mouth grew tight. I didn’t mean to make her angry.
"OK, OK. It was just an odd question. I have a few. Why?"
"He wants to know what you have in your truck?"
I shrugged my shoulders and muttered, "Not much. What is he looking for?"
She went back to the phone and just listened for a minute. Seems that he heard my response. We continued to drive. The town was quieter than normal. But then again, it was a Thursday night in a small town, not much going on. The American Legion didn't even have any events on Thursday. Bingo was on Wednesday. But still, I thought there would be more traffic. We pulled up to her Dad's house. The shut gates forced me to park on the street. Sharon punched in the code to open the walk up gate. Sharon made sure that the gate locked behind us. She had never done that before.
Her Dad was clutching an AR-15 rifle in his hands this time. I raised my left eyebrow at him in an unasked question. This was the first time I had seen him so disheveled. He had at least three days growth of beard and was wearing an open bathrobe, boxers, and a sleeveless undershirt. The only thing missing from the 'crazy dad' ensemble was a pair of pink fuzzy bunny slippers with floppy ears. He waved us into the house and shut locked the door.
He adjusted his glasses and asked, "Well? Where are they?"
"Who, sir?"
"Your guns. Where are the guns, man? This is important. Our survival depends on it." His eyes were wide, and he was shaking with excitement.
This was too much for me. The man had gone off his rocker. I pointed over my shoulder with my thumb, "In the truck, sir."
"Go get them. I will cover you."
"Um, from what, sir? I don't know why we need them."
He stared right into my eyes. It's unnerving when someone stares you in the eyes. Not just looking someone in the eyes but staring into them. His heavy breathing gave me a first hand experience of his bad breath.
"It's what those people unleashed at the CDC that we need to fear. That virus will kill everyone."
"What virus? I thought the CDC blew up to prevent the bad things from getting out."
His jaw was tightening and loosening in between sentences. I worried the man would have a stroke or heart attack. He was that worked up and not making a lick of sense.
"Go get your guns and I will tell you everything. Hurry."
I knew this was a bad idea. Hell, I could get in my truck and just drive off. But there was no way I was leaving Sharon alone with that loon. This was the guy you read about in the news. You know, one of those Florida or Germany things. That is where all the weird shit happens, anyway. You have heard the stories. Like folks smoking bath salts then going all zombie on some poor homeless dude. Or that freak who placed an ad in the newspaper he wanted to eat someone and a person responded to it and let him eat him.
Shaking my head, I ran back out to the car. Sure enough, the mad man
was covering me with his rifle. I didn’t realize it at first but not only did the guy buy an AR, he bought a damn beta mag to go with it. What's a beta mag? Well, they are a hundred round magazine that looks like two small drums that jut out from either side of it. Who did he think would invade his house to needed a hundred rounds for?
Opening the truck, I pulled out my rifle case from the back seat. I lifted the seat and grabbed two boxes of ammo I had stashed in the storage bin back there. From the center console, I grabbed my Glock 30 and the two spare mags. Closing up the truck I jogged back to the house. Not even half way to the house a sound in the distance startled me. To the east of town, there were a series of pops in the distance. Someone was shooting. Not just once or twice but it sounded like a major gunfight out there. Real Hollywood stuff was going on over there.
I trotted back to the house. Crazy Dad was waving to get me into the house. He looked to make sure the coast was clear and then slammed the door.
"Well, what did you bring?"
"It's my hunting rifle, sir. A Remington 700 in three-oh-eight. I have about forty rounds for it."
His face dropped. I felt bad for saying it now, he looked so darn hangdog sad.
"That isn’t enough. You don't understand what it is we are up against!"
I was trying hard not to offend this man who was heavily armed. "No, sir. I don't think I do."
He launched into his explanation, "Doctor Hasan al-Akarwi joined the CDC, in the infectious disease section, four years ago. He concerned me as the CDC is a prime target of terrorism. I believed then as I do now that the man had ties to certain groups in the Middle East. Yet, they let him work, anyway. This summer, we received a shipment from Colorado. I had never seen the doctors in infectious disease so excited about any bug they have received before. They were like kids at Christmas. That is if kids received gifts that could end all life on earth as we know it."
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