I noticed an interesting thing, something I had not expected. The zombies, unlike those in popular fiction, did not gorge themselves on the flesh of the living. Instead, each took one or two substantial bites before wandering off, chewing thoroughly before swallowing. They appeared sated and had no further interest in the people around them.
Two of the idiots survived this initial feeding. They were lying on the ground crying and begging, barely able to move due to their injuries, but no one came out to help. I don’t know if anyone, other than myself, even heard them. It was somewhat creepy. Then their friend, having bled out, rose once more. He spotted the men and immediately shambled over to feed. I could see no sign of recognition in his gray filmed eyes, and he never hesitated before biting.
The other zombies eventually grew hungry once more and returned. I paid even closer attention to this development and used the clock function on my iPhone to do a bit of timing. My conclusion was that after feeding, the zombies became nonviolent for twenty minutes, give or take a few. The time frame was not uniform. Additionally, when the second zombie hunter died, he reanimated seven minutes later. That matched the news reports regarding the initial outbreak.
One of the crew had the further misfortune to not die right away. He lingered on until sometime after dark, having survived two rounds of feeding, possibly more. Unable to see what was happening, I went upstairs and barricaded the bedroom door with a dresser. I could just barely hear the occasional faint cry, but those didn’t last long. He was gone come morning. I felt some shame at refusing to help, more for thinking so poorly of them. Still, they were the type that we, the survivors of this ongoing nightmare, are better off without. It was the right call.
* * *
I woke the next morning to discover the water was out. Being miserably hot and sticky, a shower would have been so very nice. Instead, I used a damp wash cloth to wipe the sweat away, not nearly as satisfying. Fortunately, the gas was still working, and I decided to use up the last of my eggs. After stuffing myself, I grilled two more steaks. Those could survive several days in the cooler. Then I went ahead and made all of them. I might as well have something good to eat before I left.
You see, I was determined to abandon my home and go someplace safe, or at least safer. My house, pleasant and comfortable though it was, was not secure and couldn’t be made so. I had large picture windows, and the rear doors were mostly glass allowing one to see into the yard. It would take sheets and sheets of plywood to get it closed up, lumber I did not have and could not obtain. Worse, I didn’t have the necessary supplies, specifically food and water, to last more than a month, maybe two. Finally, there was the steadily increasing number of zombies passing by to consider.
Yes, I had a plan. Good for me. Unfortunately, I lacked the resources to gather the information needed to properly develop it. There was no more Internet, at least that I could access. Power was out, so no television. Nothing on the radio. The stations were either shut down with the staff gone or dead or their power was also out, maybe both. Therefore, I had to make decisions based on my gut and the little I did know.
The first thing I did was enter the garage and very, very quietly take the back seat out of my Jeep Wrangler – it was the big four door variety. That took longer than I expected. I spent a good half hour just reading the manual and examining the bolts, but I managed to remove it in the end. With the seat gone, the storage space in the Jeep increased dramatically.
Then I began sorting through my belongings and boxing stuff up. I won’t list everything I packed since that would be a bit obsessive compulsive, even for me, and more than a little tedious for the reader. I did take my laptop and the external hard drive to my desktop, along with adaptors so I could use and charge the computer in the car. This meant I had my digital pictures, quite a few movies, tons of music, some of which was even downloaded legally, and a bunch of random videos I’d found on the web over the past few years. I also packed my family photo albums and scrapbooks. I needed something to remind me of my past. As far as personal items go, I kept it light after that. I took some of my favorite books, mostly autographed or otherwise rare and valuable, at least to me, and a few knick knacks from my childhood. I also included an old antique oil lamp. I had no fuel for it, but that can be made from all sorts of things including fat from animals, disgusting though the process was. It might be useful at some point.
For practical gear, there was clothing. I decided it was prudent to wear long sleeves, despite the heat, and a denim jacket and jeans at all times when outside. I was pretty sure a zombie would have trouble biting through fabric that thick. I packed some gloves as well for the same reason. Of course there were my guns. I had my Beretta .40 caliber on my hip. I had my Glock .45 in the slot on the driver’s side door of the Jeep. The other pistols I put in a bag with extra clips and ammunition, keeping them in the passenger seat. My .22 rifle and 16 gauge double barrel shotgun followed suit. All the bottled water was taken, along with every can of high calorie, nutritious food in my pantry. I packed up all the medicine I had, the vitamins, band-aids, pretty much anything that might help keep me healthy or treat an injury or illness. I even added an old metal tool box complete with a selection of hammers, small saws, screw drivers, and so forth that might be good to have around.
Going back to the less practical, I decided to keep my iPhone. It would probably never ring again, but there were some fun games on it, in case I felt the overwhelming need to waste time. The iPod was more useful, being loaded with around ten thousand songs, fifty audio novels, dozens of audio dramas, and quite a few movies and videos. Both could be recharged in the Jeep.
* * *
It was afternoon by the time I completed my preparations, the process taking longer than I anticipated. That didn’t matter though. From the start I’d planned on departing the following morning, at sunrise, in order to maximize the available daylight. For this practical decision, I am incredibly and eternally grateful. I wouldn’t have met her otherwise you see. But I’ll get to that in a minute. After finishing, I sat on the sofa, munching on a T-bone and salad, pondering what the world was now like. Part of this was morbid curiosity, but theorizing would also assist in predicting how things would progress and how my plans might be affected. Additionally, I had nothing better to do.
Regarding North and South America, the change happened in the middle of the night. A quarter of the population died and reanimated, largely at home with their families present. This combination meant there would have been a tremendous number of attacks, almost immediately. I estimated, meaning guessed, that half the population was dead or infected before sunrise.
Infected, that was still a question. At the time I didn’t know if a bite meant certain death or not. The men in the pickup had been bitten, died from their injuries, and came back. But did a bite alone mean the person would get sick, die, and become a zombie? In all the fictional accounts it did, but that was hardly a guarantee of what would be the case here. Still, I had to assume the worst until I had evidence to the contrary.
So half of America was taken out within hours, not good. Then how many more woke and went outside not knowing of the apocalypse? How many stumbled into the chaos and fell as a result? It had to be significant. Not everyone checked the news and Internet first thing when waking up. There would be hundreds of thousands, millions, who left their home thinking it was just an ordinary day.
With the power going off there would be even more difficulties. Food and water were the big ones. A city like New York probably only has enough on hand to feed the people for a few days, at best. The stores are tiny. Apartments tended to be small without pantries and having little bitty refrigerators. People shopped day to day. Even then, without power much of what they did have could not be stored properly and a lot would go bad. Cars and trucks would still work, but they wouldn’t be used in a rational, productive manner. No one is going to think “hey, I need to deliver these canned peaches to the supermarket” when they’re being
chased by flesh eating zombies. Starvation, increased panic, and rioting would engulf the survivors. There would be more violence and horror. New York City, any large, dense urban center for that matter, was going to be a deathtrap. I was definitely heading for a rural area.
What about on the other side of the world? It wasn’t relevant to my immediate concerns, but I’ve never been able to focus exclusively on one thing. I figured they would have lost nearly as many in the first few hours as the United States. If a quarter of the population fell and died in a particularly dreadful manner, the survivors who saw this happening would have tried to help. Only seven minutes till reanimation meant a lot of zombies were probably being crouched over or having CPR given to them or whatever. They would have had ready victims within reach. And any advantage from being awake when it happened, of having seen the zombies rise and attack others, would be offset by the fact that most of the nations in Europe and Asia were disarmed. America had plenty of guns. There was no shortage in most third world countries either, but the other developed nations had mostly banned private ownership. The survivors would have difficulty defending themselves.
Having decided the countryside was where I wanted to be – Green Acres is the place for me; sorry about that – the next question was where. That was easy. I was going northwest. East had too many people. Due west took me into the desert, and while I liked the desert, I didn’t want to live there without air conditioning. Northwest into the plains took me to areas like Wyoming, Montana, the Dakotas, which admittedly were simply north, that had few cities, none of them large, and a very low population density. That was it.
* * *
Before retiring for the evening, I made the rounds and peeked out all the windows. There was nothing in the backyard, not that I expected to see anything. On the first day I went out and locked both gates. Between that and the six foot privacy fence, I was somewhat secure. Even so, it was only smart to keep checking. The front seemed empty as well. Then I noticed something. There was a shadow flitting between trees, quickly, across the street. With no lights I couldn’t tell, but it might be a person. I saw no zombies – with their constant movement they’d been drifting in and out of view throughout the day – and I decided to take a chance. I opened the door a crack, turning my flashlight on and a off a few times.
That’s how I met Briana. She spotted my signal and sprinted over, got inside, and collapsed in the entrance way. I shut and locked the door immediately and then double checked the windows while she lay there panting, drenched in sweat, and looking completely miserable. There was no sign that she’d been seen. Thank God for that. We were still safe.
“Are you okay?”
She stared up at me, seemingly without comprehension.
“What’s your name?”
Maybe it was best I start with the basics.
“Briana,” she answered a moment later, “Briana Mills.”
“Well Briana, I’m Jacob Thornton. Now, are you okay? Any injuries? Were you bitten by any of… those things?”
I realize questioning her in this manner was more than a little rude, but, as all you survivors will agree, determining if someone has been bitten is important. It’s one of the few pieces of information others in a group have to know, have the absolute right to know.
She shook her head, and I relaxed. She looked terrible, really did, but there was no blood, no sign that she’d been hurt.
“Let’s get you cleaned up. That sound all right?”
I held out my hand, and after another long pause Briana allowed me to help her up. She was fairly tall, maybe five foot seven. I based that on her being a few inches shorter than my own six foot one. She was young as well, perhaps in high school or college. Later, I learned she was a seventeen year old about to start her senior year. And Briana was certainly pretty, not a classical beauty – I’ll try to make sure she never reads this part of my narrative – but still enough to draw the gaze of any heterosexual man she passed. Green eyes, tanned complexion, medium brown hair that fell below her shoulders, and she has a narrow waist along with excellent curves. I don’t think I want her reading that part either. It makes me seem a bit too preoccupied with her outward appearance, but I’d just met her so what else was I going to focus on?
I guided her upstairs to the master bathroom. The shower no longer worked, but the tub was still full. So, I pointed out the plastic bucket and explained it could be used for washing and to refill the back of the toilet after she flushed. It was wasteful, but since I was leaving there was no reason to suffer through the stink. As to soap and personal grooming items, I told Briana to take whatever she needed. I even brought her some pajamas. Well, I brought her some athletic shorts and a T-shirt which was the most suitable thing I had. Then I left her alone while I rechecked the doors and windows.
When I returned fifteen minutes later, Briana was asleep in the middle of my bed. Her hair was wet – it appeared she washed it – and she was wearing the clothes I’d given her. While I would have liked to talk about what she’d seen, I could understand her exhaustion. I was less understanding about her lying in the center of the mattress however. Completely unacceptable. I pushed her to one side – she did not wake – and after barring the door with the dresser in case something managed to get inside the house, I laid down beside her and tried to fall asleep, despite the stifling, miserable heat.
* * *
Waking shortly after dawn, I gently shook Briana’s shoulder. She jerked at my touch, her eyes flying open, and I stepped back to give her room.
“Time to get up.”
“Where…” She looked about. “Jacob, right?”
I smiled. She appeared much more coherent, now that she’d gotten some rest. “That’s me. You can have the bathroom first. I’ll get you a change of clothes. I think I have something that’ll fit.”
The clothing she’d shown up in had been left on the bathroom floor, beside the sink.
“Are you alone?”
I nodded. “No family. You?”
Her head fell immediately, and she began to cry. That answered the question, unfortunately.
“I’m sorry.”
She nodded absently.
“Get cleaned up. Take a bath even, if you want. I have a second tub more full than that one. More water downstairs too. Then we’ll see about getting some food in you. I have plenty.”
Per my original strategy, I should now be leaving the house. Well, there would be no running off today. I’d need that time to explain to Briana all that I intended, along with my reasoning. Hopefully, she would agree to make the run out of town. If not, well, she could have the house. I wasn’t going to stay. However, if I was doing something glaringly stupid, something I missed, maybe she could point that out. It would be nice to have someone to toss ideas back and forth with.
Heading downstairs, I made a platter with some sliced steak, lunchmeat, and cheese, all of which were still surviving in my cooler. I added some sweet rolls as well. It wasn’t a proper meal, more of a glorified snack tray, but it should fill her up. Then it was back to peeking out the windows. Plenty of zombies about this morning, quite depressing.
In addition to the walking corpses, I noticed one other thing. The rifles the three idiots had been carrying were gone. The wrecked pickup was still there, but someone had taken the weapons. That was rather annoying. I’d intended on snagging those on my way out of town.
“Jacob?”
I hurried back to the kitchen. “Yes?”
“I can eat this?” she asked, timidly.
“As much as you want, all of it if you like. It’ll go bad soon enough, and other than some sandwiches for later, It’ll be staying here when we leave.”
“Leave,” she gasped. “You mean, back out there?”
“First of all Briana, chew your food. Choking won’t do you any good.”
She stared at me – okay, so it was a weird comment – before taking a glass of water and washing it down.
“Now, I don’t mean
go out into the streets. I’m not stupid or crazy. What I’m referring to is getting in my Jeep and driving out of the city and away from the zombies.”
From the relieved look on her face that was a much more pleasant prospect.
“We can’t stay here. I think we’re safe enough for now, since they don’t know we’re inside the house, but the food’s going to run out eventually, the water way sooner, even if I used it only for drinking. No matter what, we have to leave at some point, so we’ll finish getting ready today and depart first thing in the morning. I was going to go today actually, but since you showed up we’ll knock that back twenty four hours.”
“I… Do we have to go so soon?” She popped a slice of cheese in her mouth.
“Not really,” I admitted, “but I’m worried about those things finding out we’re in here. The front door is solid, but the windows are more than big enough to get through.”
She didn’t look fully convinced.
“With what, ninety, a hundred thousand people in Denton – I forget – not counting the universities, I think the odds of something going wrong are too high to risk it.”
“How many of them do you think are zombies? I know about all the people who got sick and died at the start, but, well.”
That was a good question. I’d done some calculations on what I thought happened the first day, but now it was the third. How many had died and come back since then?
“It’s just a guess, understand, but I’m thinking a good three quarters of the population are zombies, or were bitten by one. I’m pretty sure anyone bitten will end up as a zombie too.”
She began to breathe faster, not quite hyperventilating.
“Most of those still alive are likely hunkered down in their homes, maybe in offices or other buildings. I only saw a few people, other than you, but they were drunk and didn’t end well. Granted, I’m way out to the side of everything, but I do think the living are largely hiding. That won’t last, and I really want to be gone before they start panicking and try to escape. Anyway, if it is seventy five percent, then we have close to five million zombies within fifty, sixty miles of us, lots of people in the Metroplex.”
Surviving The Zombie Apocalypse (Book 1): Sanctuary Page 2