Zpoc Exception Series (Book 1): Re-Civilize (Chad)
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Zpoc Exception Series
Re-Civilize
Book 1 – Chad
By Rebecca Besser
This is a work of fiction. All of the characters, organization, and events portrayed in this novella are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.
Copyright © 2016 Rebecca Besser and Besser Books
Art Copyright © 123RF.com
Cover © 2016 Rebecca Besser
All rights reserved.
This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the publisher except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
First Edition
ASIN: B01M0BG8QH
TABLE OF CONTENTS
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 1
“Chad, get down here and eat breakfast before school!”
I rolled my eyes and slowly made my way downstairs to plop into one of the chairs around the table, dropping my backpack on the floor beside me. There was a plate of scrambled eggs, buttered toast, and bacon waiting for me. My mom was obsessed with making sure we all had home-cooked meals – she was obsessed with anything and everything that seemed like happy family stuff. Too bad all her wife and mother excellence didn’t ensure that; we’d be doing great.
I picked up my fork and started eating. I was hungry and I needed to eat, even though I wasn’t going to school.
My little sister stared at me across the table. Her thick glasses made her eyes look enormous and other-worldly. She was freaking me out.
I wanted to kick her under the table, but I knew I would get in trouble and it wasn’t worth it. I did my best to ignore her and get through the morning craziness that was my family.
Dad came in, walked over to Mom in the kitchen, and kissed her cheek before exiting the room and heading for the front door.
“What about breakfast?” Mom hollered after him just to hear the front door slam shut. She sighed.
I watched her. She looked sad. She often did when she thought no one was paying attention. Dad made her sad a lot. Sometimes I hate him for it. Then I would hate her for making me feel sad because she couldn’t deal with the realities of life. I hated how she covered up all the things she hated with fake cheer and pretended perfection. Family life was bullshit. I should know… I’ve been pretty much nonexistent to everyone in my family unless I did something worthy of getting yelled at, which seemed to be everything since my thirteenth birthday. Three years of not being able to do anything right would grow bitterness in anyone.
I’ve given up caring, about everything. I exist day to day and that’s it. I’m counting the days until I can move out and not be yelled at constantly for not caring.
I chanced a glance across the table to see that bug-eyes had shifted her attention to a large book laid open beside her breakfast plate.
“Hurry, up, you two,” Mom said, taking off the apron she’d worn to keep her work clothes protected while she’d made breakfast. “I’ll drop you off at school on my way to work.”
“I’m walking,” I said, and shoved the last of my toast in my mouth. I stood, grabbed my backpack from the floor beside my chair, and darted out of the room before she could protest.
I expected her to yell after me, but she didn’t. I figured my ignoring her was starting to work.
Knowing Mom would drive past me as I walked to school, I had to at least head in that direction at a decent pace. I wanted her to see me and think that’s where I was going.
I trudged along the tree-lined, suburban neighborhood we lived in as slowly as I dared. While I walked, I took in the people around me. Old people were opening their front doors and getting their newspapers. Families with children were rushing to get in vehicles and head off to school and work. A bright yellow bus drove down the street and stopped to pick up children that were either hyper off their asses or looked like they hadn’t slept well in their entire lives.
To me, it was all a living hell. Civilization was such a joke; it was just trained responses and responsibilities to keep people in line and under control.
I snickered as I thought about doing some crazy shit to stir things up. I couldn’t do what I thought of because I was trying to keep a low profile. I didn’t want to be noticed. I wanted to slip in between all the goodie-goodie shit so I could misbehave in private…for now. Skipping school was my fix of rebellion for the day.
I was only three blocks away from the school when Mom drove by with a honk and a wave.
I nodded in her direction and kept walking forward until she turned a corner and couldn’t see me anymore.
“Freedom,” I whispered.
I kept walking forward and turned to walk around the block so I wouldn’t draw any unwanted attention. I couldn’t run or cut through yards without some busy-body noticing. If I just circled around, it wouldn’t be noticeable that I’d changed direction. It would look more like I was going the direction I was going because that’s the way I was supposed to be going. At least, that’s how my mind had worked out my plan last night. But, at the time, I’d been high…
Nothing happened on my way home that led me to believe I was going to get turned in.
The doors of the house were all locked, like normal. I got my key out of my backpack and unlocked the front door. I opened it, stepped inside, closed it, and quickly punched in the passcode so our home security system wouldn’t go off. I then re-armed it. I had big plans of playing video games and smoking pot. I didn’t need anyone interrupting that unannounced.
Before I headed upstairs to my room, I went to the kitchen to find snacks and beverage. I’d already stashed some snacks in my room, but I didn’t have a fridge in there and I liked my beverages cold.
It was weird moving around the house when no one else was home; it almost never happened. The effect was eerie, but I liked it. I didn’t have to worry about anyone yelling at me. I didn’t have to worry about doing something wrong. I could relax, and I loved it.
I shoved as many snacks and drinks into my backpack as I could and finally headed upstairs. I was home free…literally.
Just as my hand touched the cool metal knob of my bedroom door, I heard the front door open downstairs.
Shit, I thought, and hurriedly entered my room and closed the door behind me as quietly as I possibly could.
I held my breath, set my bag down, and listened at my door.
A feminine laugh echoed through the hall, loud enough to be heard through the barrier I was hiding behind. I didn’t recognize it as Mom’s or my sister’s.
A man’s laugh joined it…a familiar man’s laugh. Dad’s laugh.
I could barely make out the murmur of their voices, which seemed to move further away. I opened my door to peek out into the hall.
I didn’t see anything, but I could hear them better and it sounded like they were in the living room.
I crept over to the stairs and peeked down. I couldn’t see them, so I started going down the stairs – I figured I’d be able to see into the living room halfway down.
It seemed like it took me forever because I moved in snail slow-motion so I didn’t make a sound.
Once I reached the midway point on the stairs, I crouc
hed down to peek into the living room.
My eyes widened and I gasped as I took in the tits and ass show in front of me.
Dad had a blonde woman wearing a pair of high-heeled shoes and a bra that was half-off bent over with her hands on the coffee table, holding herself up while he fucked her from behind.
I was disgusted and turned on at the same time.
They didn’t hear me gasp because they were too busy groaning and moaning as their skin met with loud smacking noises in their rush for pleasure.
I wanted to run back upstairs, but I couldn’t tear my eyes away. I couldn’t believe what I was seeing.
The woman started screaming as she orgasmed and that broke me out of my frozen, shocked state.
I stood up straight and ran back up the stairs. I was sure I wouldn’t be heard over all the noise the woman was making, especially as Dad joined in.
I made it into my room and managed to close the door somewhat quietly. I sat on my bed and tried to process what was going on.
Dad was cheating on Mom…in our house.
I wondered if Mom knew. I wondered if I should tell her. I wondered if I should confront him about it before I told her. My head spun, my chest hurt, and my throat burned with all the emotions that poured through my body.
I don’t know how long I sat there, but I knew it was long after the giggle-slut and Dad left the house.
Chapter 2
Pot always made everything better. I could smoke the shit and just drift away on a cloud of peace…even after Dad’s fornication in the living room. I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to watch TV in there again. I definitely won’t be able to put anything on the coffee table.
Once I was well-baked I got back to my plans for the day. I knew I’d have to deal with the family bullshit later, and that it would destroy what little good was left in my day-to-day life.
My parents are assholes, I thought as I got comfortable in my gaming chair and turned my system on. They’re stupid and keep fucking everything up. I couldn’t wrap my head around people who would have children and then fuck them over by fucking each other over again. It probably had to do with all the civilized society bullshit of keeping up appearances. It could also have to do with money. I’d known for a long time that neither of my parents was happy, but I also knew we weren’t rolling in money. I’d heard from my friends with divorced parents that all the financial shit got worse after a divorce. Maybe they tried to keep it together for us…me and my sister.
As my game booted up, I forced myself to stop thinking. I blasted away at enemy aliens that tried to take over planet Earth, and when that became boring, I switched to killing zombies – I loved how their heads exploded in a plume of bloody gore.
<+>
Hours passed while I played game after game, and ate snacks and drank beverages. I didn’t realize how long I’d been playing until I glanced at my clock – it read 7 PM.
I took off my headphones and listened. I didn’t hear anyone in the house. Usually, by now, Mom would have checked with me to make sure I’d done my homework and would be making supper.
I stood, went to my bedroom door, and opened it.
I was met by silence, and there were no food cooking smells.
I headed downstairs while I checked my phone to see if Mom had left me any messages. I had no voicemails and no text messages.
There were no lights on anywhere, so I turned them on as I went through the main level of the house, looking for my family.
I didn’t find anyone.
I dialed Mom’s cell phone and waited through all the rings. I left a message:
“Hey, this is Chad. Where are you? It’s late. Call me, please.”
Fear settled into the pit of my stomach, stirring up the snacks and sodas I’d consumed. I felt like I was going to vomit. And the thought of calling Dad doubled the anxiety I was already feeling.
There was no answer from him either.
I rushed into the living room and forced the images my mind flashed of Dad’s fornication to the wayside so I could get the remote and turn on the TV. I figured something had to have happened for both of my parents to be unreachable and not home, and it had to be big enough to make it on the news.
What the screen portrayed gut-punched me and I fell to my knees. My stomach rejected its contents and I spewed all over the arm of the couch, the coffee table, and the floor. The hot, acidic vomit shot out of my mouth like I was a bottle of soda that had been shaken and opened.
The news showed thousands of mutilated bodies. As I watched and wiped my mouth with the back of my hand, the bodies started to move and rise. Before my very eyes, I saw zombies.
My mind fought between thoughts of how awesome it was that there was a real zombie apocalypse, to disbelief, and then to being extremely afraid. I flipped from channel to channel just to check and make sure it wasn’t some kind of hoax. It wasn’t. Every channel seemed to be broadcasting emergency messages that were all shockingly similar: THE DEAD ARE RAISING UP AND ATTACKING THE LIVING; THE UNDEAD ARE CONSUMING THE LIVING; and THE ZOMBIE APOCALYPSE IS UPON US! There were more…many, many more, but I couldn’t process it all. The scenes on the screen were akin to the zombie movies I’d enjoyed watching for the last couple of years.
I dropped the TV remote into a puddle of my vomit and staggered to my feet; I slipped in the wet, slimy mess I’d made on the hardwood floor but remained standing. I stumbled from the living room toward the front door. I had to see for myself… I had to see with my own eyes that the world was as the news said. I had to see the undead to believe I hadn’t had a psychological break watching Dad fuck the giggle-slut.
I had to make sure it wasn’t all a bad dream…
Chapter 3
I turned off the alarm system and reached for the knob of the front door. My mind conjured up all kinds of horrors for me to encounter as I opened the barrier that separated me from the outside world.
The hinges squeaked slightly as I slowly pulled the door inward and peeked out little by little.
I don’t know what I was expecting, but it wasn’t the quiet dusk with crickets chirping in the background. The air was clean and cool and everything seemed almost normal. The only thing I noticed that was out of place was there were no cars driving down the street; I hadn’t realized how much noise cars made in suburbia until now.
I stepped outside gingerly, looked around at the tall bushes that flanked our front door to make sure no zombies were hiding there, waiting to accost me. When I didn’t see anything and nothing and no one attacked me, I headed across the flagstone slab to the walkway leading out to the driveway. I took each step slowly, keeping my attention on my surroundings. I noticed random things, like the neighbors houses didn’t have lights on inside like they normally did, no children were out playing or riding their bikes, and the breeze that rustled the leaves on the trees was extremely loud in the quiet night, as was my breathing.
I didn’t know if I should go beyond the driveway. I didn’t know it if would be safe. But, at the same time, I didn’t see or hear any danger. I decided to risk it.
I kept up my cautious pace and high level of attention as I headed out toward the street.
As I looked up and down the street, I still didn’t see anything alarming.
I shrugged and turned back toward the house and came face to face with a mostly naked Mrs. Piscatelli – our eighty-year-old neighbor from two doors down. I flinched at her wrinkly nakedness – all she was wearing was a dirty adult diaper.
She stumbled toward me, making weird wheezing sounds.
I stepped back out of instinct and finally got a good look at her.
Mrs. Piscatelli’s lips, few teeth, and chin were coated with dried blood and her eyes were milky white, like she had the worst cataracts in the world.
At my sudden movement backwards, she seemed to come to life with an unnatural speed.
Mrs. Piscatelli lunged at me.
I was too shocked and surprised to get out of the way.
She knocked me down and pinned me to the concrete sidewalk.
“Get off me, you old bitch!” I screamed, and tried to push her off, my hands getting lost in her wrinkled, loose flesh. I cried out again when I realized I was touching her old, saggy boobs.
I felt a sharp, searing pain in my shoulder as the old hag bit me.
I cried out.
“Fuck you, you old hag,” I snarled, and shoved at her body as hard as I could, finally throwing her off of me.
I got to my feet and ran as fast as I could to the door of the house, went inside, slammed the door behind me, and rearmed the alarm with shaking hands.
I reached up to check my wound. When I drew my hand away and looked at it, my fingers were coated with bright red blood.
“Oh, gawd,” I breathed. “I’m fucked. Damn you, old bitch!”
I balled up my fist and punched the wall under the alarm system, leaving smudges of blood on the white paint.
I didn’t know what to do. I knew there was nothing I could do. I’d been bitten by a zombie and I knew what that meant… I would soon die and become a zombie myself.
Chapter 4
I headed to the bathroom to get a better look at the wound; the mirror revealed three small punctures releasing trickles of blood.
After I cleaned and bandaged my shoulder with my still shaking hands, I stood and examined myself in the mirror. There were slight shadows under my eyes, but those were normal because of my limited sleeping schedule. My irises were still a clear slate blue and my pale face was, well…pale. I looked normal. I looked like me. I didn’t look like I was dying and becoming a zombie.
I felt hot, sweaty, and clammy, but I wasn’t sure if that was because I’d just wrestled a half-naked wrinkled old zombie and run to the house or if it was the zombie virus spreading through my system.