by Ann Riley
Southern Zombies 5
South of Hell
By
Ann Riley
Contents
Prologue
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9 –Tammy
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14 –Marc
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Epilogue
Tracie and Bobby Conversation
About the Author
Prologue
It’s been a little over one year since the outbreak. Has it gotten better? Not really.
The zombies are slowly disappearing. But are they hibernating? Becoming inanimate? Rotting and decomposing? We don’t know.
People haven’t changed. Well, let me change that. They have changed. For the worse. The remaining population seems to think they are owed something. So, instead of rebuilding, they steal, kill, rape and pillage.
The world we live in now is one where you have to fight or die. There are no exceptions. The only thing we can do is continue to try and rebuild.
This book is a work of fiction. Names, graphic symbols, organizations, positions, events and incidences are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.
Text copyright © 2016 Ann Riley
All rights reserved.
No portion of this book may be used, reproduced or stored in a retrieval system, or transferred in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise, without express written permission of the publisher.
Self-published by Amazon Publishing.
Editing by Tara Dooley.
Cover design by Maduranga at MNS Art Studio.
Copyright © 2016 Ann Riley
All rights reserved.
Chapter 1
Another day, another zombie. Or idiot, whichever comes first.
It’s been three weeks since Trey and I were shot. He is doing much better. His shoulder hurts, but he is using his arm again.
Me, on the other hand, well, let’s just say that daddy’s cane we kept has come in handy.
Maybe I can learn to use it as well as he did.
In 1930, during the start of a polio epidemic, my daddy was struck with the disease.
He was only five years old and it left him partially cripple in both legs, but his left leg was left in worse condition. He always limped, but was able to walk without the need of braces or crutches.
As he got older, he was forced to use a cane to keep his balance. Daddy wasn’t mean, but he was a person who said what was on his mind and had a vocabulary of expletives that would shame a sailor.
Marc and my daddy were kindred spirits. Marc followed daddy around and daddy taught Marc to be a master mechanic as he grew into manhood.
They also argued like a cat and dog. Daddy’s nickname for Marc was “Rooster”. I can’t count the number of times I heard daddy yelling at Rooster, threatening to whip his ass. Mostly over Marc using tools and not returning them to the correct place. Daddy didn’t tolerate mouthy people very well, and Marc was mouthy. Daddy wasn’t able to run, so Marc would run away from him and make daddy mad. Had daddy caught Marc, he wouldn’t have done anything to him, but at the time you would have thought Marc was in extreme danger due to the fast escape he was making.
So, when daddy started using his cane, he discovered that he could reach out closer to people if need be without having to run after them.
A drunk who was giving daddy a piece of his alcohol imbued mind one day didn’t feel he was in any danger apparently. I mean, daddy was in his 60s at this point and seemed like a harmless old man. Daddy told the man numerous times to leave; just go home and sleep it off. The drunk told daddy, “fuck you James. Why don’t you make me leave?”
The utterance of those words turned out to be a bad decision for that drunk fool. Daddy picked up his cane and calmly grabbed a hand hold on the bottom part of it and took the hooked part and hit the man between the eyes, dead center, in his forehead, and knocked his ass out. The man was out for about ten minutes. He never got drunk and ugly with daddy again.
So maybe I can find a plus to using his cane.
Doc says my leg will heal, but I will probably always have pain. The bullet grazed my thigh bone before it nicked my femoral artery. Had it been a little more to the left, the bullet would have severed the artery and I would have bled out. Had Riley not found me when he did, I may have bled out anyway.
My little boy the hero. That hound dog nose finally came in handy. Marc and Bobby could not locate me in the woods, as I can apparently hide myself pretty well in the leaves, so they brought Riley down to find me. Riley can’t deal with not being near me. He howls when I leave him.
Before the zom poc, I worked at home each day as and Riley was by my side all day. He spent my whole shift in my office with me. So he is clingy when it comes to me leaving him.
When Bobby told him to find momma, he did just that. He found me under the edge of a tree that had fallen then Marc and Bobby dug me out.
So I can say I owe my survival to a dachshund.
Doc is still planning on a trip to the CDC in Atlanta. I’m in no hurry to go. I feel there will be too many obstacles in the way. But Doc says he needs to see if there is anyone left there. He has been working on a vaccine that will hopefully prevent the Toxo parasite from mutating into the zombie virus.
It’s about 284 miles to Atlanta from our home. A four-hour drive. That would probably be a trip that would take more than twelve hours now due to the things we may encounter. I’m in no shape to make that trip right now. I hope they can put it off for a few more weeks.
“What are you doing?” Bobby asks.
“Just sitting and thinking.” I say.
“About?”
“About how many people I will be able to hit with my cane.”
“That figures.”
“Hey! I would only do it if I had to.”
“Uh huh.”
“What are you doing?”
“Trey has taken me on a ride from Hades in that damn Pioneer. How do you ride with him?” Bobby asks.
“Well, he knows I will slap the back of his head when he starts showing his ass. He knows who he can pull that on. I suggest you start threatening to kick his ass, and then he will stop. Or, pray to the Patron Saint of those who can’t drive.” I say.
“I hate to do that, but the boy can’t drive.” Bobby says.
“Who is the Patron Saint of those who can’t drive?” Bobby asks.
I shrug.
“We aren’t Catholic, and I don’t know if there is a Patron Saint for those who can’t drive, but Patron Saints are regarded as the heavenly advocates of a nation, place, craft, activity, class, clan, family or person. Catholics believe that patron saints, having already transcended to the metaphysical, are able to intercede effectively for the needs of their special charges.” I say.
Bobby stares at me.
“Where do you get all this stuff?” He asks.
“It is well known. Patron Saint Christopher is the Patron Saint of travelers and strength. Patron Saint Anthony is the Patron Saint of animals. And there are more. Do you see where this is going? They are protectors. As I said, we aren’t Catholic, so my information may not be completely accurate.” I tell Bobby.
Again, he stares at me.
“Where is Riley?” I ask.
“At the barn with the ginger we were just ta
lking about.” Bobby says.
I nod.
Trey has fire red hair and freckles. Preston, Tammy’s son, does too. They are the only two of Diane’s grandchildren who got the curly, fire red hair and freckles. So we call them both gingers.
“Speaking of the spawn of those who can’t drive.” I say to Bobby.
“Are you trying to give your uncle a heart attack? I ask Trey.
He snorts.
“Cut that shit out before you hurt yourself and anyone in there with you. I have a cane now I can use on you.” I say with a smile.
“Well, I see Grandpa James lives on in you.” Trey says.
“Who do you think we all get our temper from?” I ask Trey.
Riley comes running to me, ears folded back, barking. I pick him up and he gives me a lick on the cheek. And I put him right back down. He has mud under his belly. He is so low to the ground and his belly drags in the dirt and muck in the barn. Well, I hope it’s mud anyway. I’m not taking any chance to smell and see.
Diane yells at us to come and eat lunch.
I start trying to stand up from the porch swing, and it hurts like hell. When I finally am able to stand, Bobby holds his arm out for me to put my arm through.
“Thanks. It reminds me of when we got married; only I wasn’t shot in the leg then. You were a gentleman then.” I say.
“Then? What the hell am I now?” He asks.
“Not a gentleman. You don’t hold doors open anymore for me.” I say with a smile.
“Well, since most doors are not intact anymore, that would be hard to do these days. However, I will make it a point to hold the door for you now.” He says.
He holds the door open, and we go in.
“Do you need a pain pill?” Diane asks me.
I nod.
I’m not a fan of pain medication, but, a gunshot wound is not something I can deal with while not medicated. I’m also not a fan of pain. So, if I have to be a temporary pain pill junkie until my leg heals, so be it.
I think back to the day I was shot. The pain, the fear and the question of me leaving my family to face this alone. I knew my passing would hurt them badly. Would Bobby be able to go on? Would my family treat him as their own, like they do now? I couldn’t leave him alone in this shit storm we call a world now. And Riley? My little doggie baby. How long would he grieve for me? I remember the second I had made up my mind to fight off the Grim Reaper with every ounce of life and strength I had in me. My faith must have been very high at that point for that’s when I heard Riley sniffing and digging around after he had found my scent. Then I heard Bobby and Marc digging me out from under the fallen tree and realized that I may actually have a chance to survive this mess.
I remember being pulled out of the grave I had made for myself, hauled onto a cold, flat, steel surface and Bobby rubbing his hand across my forehead while Riley licked my cheek.
Then, everything went dark. When I next woke, I was in our infirmary, leg in a cast, and a feeling of a white, hot poker stabbing into my leg.
Those next few days were filled with unending pain. Tammy and Bobby took turns sitting with me and holding my hand, while Diane read to me. She knows my passion for reading. I remember Doc coming in to see me and examining my leg. I remember wanting to kick him in his family jewels when he moved my leg or changed the bandages.
I also remember wanting to go to sleep and be free of the pain, but every time I had that thought, I would dream of my mom, standing in a soft, white light, pointing her finger at me accusingly. She would tell me it wasn’t my time, and that I had to go back, and each time I asked her if I could stay, she would shake her head no.
So I fought harder and two weeks later, Doc said I was out of the danger zone only to enter into another one we call the New World.
Chapter 2
When we finish eating, I help out with the dishes. I have to pull the bar stool over to the sink because I can’t stand long, but it works out.
I still have this Atlanta trip on my mind and am not feeling very positive about it. If Marc goes, he will need someone to go with him that can hold their own and think fast in a dangerous situation. Diane could do that. We also have to think about the fact we still need people here to guard. I think taking Doc is a mistake. If anyone finds out he is a doctor, he will be a major commodity on the black market. There aren’t many left, and I’m sure they have a high bounty on their heads. Maybe not monetary, but a bounty none the less.
Rebecca or Lauren could go along with Doc. But who else.
Damn it! There is no one I trust to have Marc’s back and be on guard the whole time he is gone.
I walk out to the infirmary and find Doc, Tammy and Rebecca there.
“Doc? Just what is the purpose of this Atlanta trip?” I ask him.
He looks at me carefully, thinking.
“Well, I may have found the vaccine that will stop the Toxo parasite from mutating in those who have had the flu shot. I need more tests to be sure, but I think I have it.” He says.
I nod.
“So, what is the trip to Atlanta going to get for us?” I ask again.
“For one, they work with deadly germs and viruses. They identify threats. They are more equipped for testing and preventing disease. They would also be the ones who could possibly mass produce this vaccine if it works.” Doc says.
“So what if we get there and there is no CDC anymore? What then?” I ask.
“We come home. I can’t give this vaccine to people because I don’t know the effects of it yet. However, if someone already has the Toxo parasite and has taken the flu shot, I don’t think it would matter what the effect would be. They would eventually turn anyway. The Toxo parasite is not hard to treat when it is the only disease present. For some reason, the flu shot causes it to mutate. I haven’t pinpointed that reason yet, but I am still testing.” Doc says.
I nod.
“I just want to be sure before we go on a fool’s errand that we have at least some kind of hope of success. Or, at least success of not getting killed along the way.” I say.
“What if we got a couple of the zombies in for testing?” I ask Doc.
“Are you just going to set them an appointment to come in? Doc asks me.
“Oh, I see you have a bit of smart assedness in you too.” I tell him with a snort.
He smiles.
“Well, I don’t think it would be hard to find one that you could test on.” I say.
“I don’t think it would benefit us. The person has already changed, so there is no coming back from that. To my knowledge, zombiism is not reversible.” He says.
“So, what we need is someone who has Toxo and has had the flu shot, but hasn’t turned yet?” I ask.
Doc nods.
There is my roadblock. We don’t know anyone who fits that description.
“Thanks Doc. I will let you know what I come up with.” I tell him.
He nods.
I leave the infirmary and run into Marc.
“When do you plan on making this trip?” I ask him.
“I’m not sure. When the doc says he’s ready I guess.” Marc says.
“You’re not going.” He says.
“Now wait a damn minute. I will if I want to, and besides, I should be well enough by the time you guys are ready.” I say.
“Just who are you planning on taking with you?” I ask him.
“Besides Doc and Rebecca? Trey and maybe Bobby.” Marc says.
I stare at him.
“What?” He asks.
“That isn’t good enough. You need at least three strong people who can help you watch your back. I love Bobby and Trey, but Trey is not focused sometimes, and Bobby is still new at this shit.” I say.
“I’m going. And you can put the trip off for a few more weeks to give me time to heal some more.” I tell him.
“Fine. But momma is going to kick your ass. She doesn’t want you to go either. She says you aren’t well yet.” Marc says.
�
�Well, it wouldn’t be the first time she kicked my ass. As long as I can still crawl into the truck, she can kick all she wants.” I tell him.
Marc shakes his head with a smile.
“That still leaves us with the dilemma of who to take with us.” I say.
I can see Marc turning this over in his mind. He knows, as well as I do, that we need at least three strong people to assist us. Diane would be one of those. I really don’t want Trey to go. He is needed here to help defend the home while we are gone. So that leaves Bobby. So maybe it should just be Bobby and Diane we take with us.
“How about this? Bobby and Diane go with us. Trey stays behind with Mitchell to protect the house and family. I think those two can handle that. They will have Kelley, Tammy, Lauren, Becky, Gabby, Brittany, Taylor, and Robert to help. Preston, Aidan and Hayley will be there to help if needed with daily work. We can leave instructions with Mitchell to keep in place and they should be good.” I say to Marc.
“So, Bobby, momma, you, Doc, Lauren and I will be going to Atlanta.” Marc says.
I nod.
“When do we leave?” Marc asks.
“Since I can’t walk very well right now; I would say in about four weeks. Doc says I should be healed enough to walk better by then. I will still have a limp, but should be able to walk.” I say.
“And besides, the CDC is not going anywhere. If it’s even there now.” I say.
Marc nods.
Well, it looks like we have figured out who will be going and staying. I’m not sure I want to go. What will we find when we get there? Anything? And what will we accomplish?
I’m not even sure if there is anything to accomplish. I don’t think we can help those already changed and even if we can help the ones who aren’t changed, how will we find them all? There would be no way.
There are just too many ifs.
Chapter 3
Over the next couple of weeks, Tammy helped me with physical therapy on my leg. To say the pain was bad would be an understatement. I never really wanted to slap my sweet niece, but, she doesn’t know how close she came to getting lit up.