Z1N1: The Zombie Pandemic: 2012 Was Just the Beginning

by Mitchell Layne Cook

  “I’m so very sorry for your loss, Mr. Greenwood,” Nikki said, tears slowly falling down her cheek.

  The old farmer whispered, “Call me ‘Kevin’. I’ve not been able to stop crying myself to sleep over the last month, but it’s been a lot less than when it first happened. I’m much better during the daylight hours. I think actually telling the story out loud to you folks dredged up more of the pain than I was ready to deal with.”

  As the sun began to set, Corbin suggested that they barricade themselves in the barn for the evening. Even though the barn would be less hospitable than the house, it had a higher vantage point and it was surrounded by a solid oak privacy fence. Kevin grabbed his old radio and more canned goods for dinner and joined the group in the barn around 9:00 PM. He had even found a few cans of peaches for dessert and some powdered milk for the baby.

  The group hunkered down close to each other on the ground-level floor in order to keep warm. While the thought of building a fire seemed like a good idea, the bright light could attract unwanted attention or worse, it could burn down the barn. The group sat mostly in silence; they ate tasteless canned goods and prepared for the long, cold night ahead.

  “Pretty shitty Thanksgiving, huh Kara?” James asked as he tossed an empty can of beans in the corner.

  “We’ve had better,” she replied.

  “I’m sorry I didn’t have more grub,” Kevin said apologetically.

  “No! We didn’t mean it like that, Kevin,” Kara assured the old man. “It’s just that holidays have royally sucked since…well you know…”

  The group finished eating and Nikki and the baby fell asleep around midnight. Corbin paced back and forth on the ground level while Kara climbed up into the loft. She was a medium-sized woman, strong, athletic, and attractive. She had shoulder-length blonde hair and large brown eyes. Over the many months the group had spent together on the run, she had become their resident sniper. Apparently, James had taught her from an early age how to handle a rifle. She seemed to be a natural. She had a perfect spot picked out in the loft above to keep an eye out for unwanted guests.

  Around 1:00 AM, Kevin excused himself to head back to the house over the curse-filled protests of James. Corbin OK’d the quick jaunt back into the house but asked that no more than fifteen minutes tops should be spent alone.

  At 1:30 AM, the echo of the first shots from Kara’s high-powered rifle reverberated across the farmland. In unison, the group readied themselves for battle. Kevin was nowhere to be found. Nikki surveyed her current surroundings as she shook the cobwebs from her head. When was the last time she had a decent night’s sleep? She couldn’t remember…that wasn’t important now. What was important was the safety of the group and her baby.

  “Where is that old bastard?!” James exclaimed again - regarding the whereabouts of Kevin - as he tended to his sister’s sprained left ankle. “You should never have let him go alone, Corbin!”

  Kara tried to calm her brother but as usual it was no use. The old marine was simply way too set in his ways. It had become obvious over the last few weeks that James was not pleased with the way Corbin led the group.

  “Kara, how many zombies did you see?” Nikki questioned as she double-checked her ammo clips.

  “I counted ten but I was able to take out two of them before heading back down here. They are closing in. We only have a few moments before they…” She didn’t have time to finish her sentence. Eight stinking, reanimated corpses broke down the barricaded double-door. With outstretched arms and twisted, moonlit facial expressions, the undead ambled into the barn - their unnatural urges pushing them ever forward towards a possible brain buffet.

  James stopped bandaging his sister’s ankle, pulled out his shotgun and began pumping round after round into the undead group. Bowling ball sized chunks of flesh and intestines exited the backs of the undead creatures but still they lurched forward. Kara hopped back away from the attackers towards the back of the barn, her injured ankle shooting pain up her leg. Corbin had instinctively grabbed the baby carrier and headed towards Kara’s new position. Nikki reached around her waist and pulled out the 9mm and began shooting. The sickening sound of lead piercing wet, rotten skin was something that she had never gotten used to. She was even less used to the smell of their rotting flesh….the smell reminded her of three-day-old road kill.

  In the commotion, two of the undead creatures had cornered Nikki between an empty grain bin and an old plow; the beasts were within arm’s reach of her, their mangled fingers writhing in anticipation. They grabbed for her as she instinctively rolled out of the way, doing a half (albeit unintended) somersault, bashing her head on a nearby piece of farm equipment. Blood spewed from the three inch long gash behind her left ear; she fought to maintain consciousness as she collapsed to the ground. The creatures continued towards her and she thought only of Megan as she fired her pistol. The rounds pierced various parts of their rotting, gray torsos, but the 9mm lacked sufficient stopping power; the zombies moved in for the feast, as the young mother fought for her life.

  As the zombies knelt down on either side of Nikki, James could not get a clear shot for fear of spraying Nikki with buckshot. Megan cried at the top of her tiny lungs and the zombies hesitated and stood up – trying to pinpoint the sound of the crying infant. Kara had never seen the zombies hesitate and their moment of indecision allowed her to act. As the creatures contemplated the new food source, a piercing rifle shot rang out cutting through one of two thick rusty chains suspending a broken tractor engine from the rafters.

  The two-ton engine swung like a pendulum and crashed through the zombies en route to Megan, completely destroying everything above their waists. Two pairs of legs moved around in circles for a few seconds, as if lost, and fell to the ground motionless. The huge engine swung back to its original starting position and the support rafter snapped in half crushing two more zombies and narrowly missing Nikki. The young mother laid motionless watching the battle unfold as if in a hazy dream. She reached out towards the sound of her crying baby but blacked out from the agonizing head wound.

  The four surviving zombies lurched towards the direction of the baby. Corbin had placed Megan in a very safe spot behind some old whiskey barrels where he also found a half-empty kerosene lamp. He threw the lamp towards the clumped up mass of rotting flesh and the glass shattered covering the zombies with oil. James reacted quickly following Corbin’s lead. The old vet pulled out his silver, skull emblazoned Zippo lighter, flicked it once and a white, hot flame danced from the mouth of the small metal lighter.

  “Die again, you dirty bastards!” James yelled as he tossed the lighter. A large FWOOMP sound filled the barn as the zombies burst into flames. A smile at his handiwork and a few more shotgun rounds disabled the zombies for eternity.

  Megan’s strong, steady crying told Corbin that she was scared but unharmed. He raced towards Nikki’s unconscious body as James walked around the smoldering, stinking pile of zombie flesh towards his sister. “Nice shot, sis! I’m proud of you,” he beamed. Kara loved the rare compliments from her battle-hardened older brother. She draped her arm over his shoulder and they moved slowly towards Nikki’s limp body.

  “Did they bite her?” the old marine inquired. “If she got bit - you know what needs to happen, Corbin. It would be easier to off her now than wait for her to regain consciousness and watch her slowly degrade into one of those freaks.”

  Corbin looked up from his kneeling position above Nikki, shocked at how callous the older man was. Did he not have a heart? Why was he so matter-of-fact? This woman was the mother of his child! “I’m looking now,” the former firefighter replied, “but all I see is a head wound behind her ear. I don’t see any other marks.”

  Nikki slowly opened her eyes and saw the frantic look on Corbin’s face. “They…didn’t bite me. That rafter knocked them away from me before they could do any worse. My head…is killing me and I’m sure I have a concussion.” The young mother sat up too quickly, feeling horribl
y dizzy. “Where’s Megan?! Is she OK? Where’s our baby?” Nikki tried to move but couldn’t. Corbin restrained her and assured her repeatedly that the baby was more than fine.

  After a few moments, Nikki got up slowly and reunited with Megan. The injured, but relieved mother cradled her baby tightly next to her breasts, soothingly rocking back and forth. Each and every day, Nikki realized that her baby was exposed to unimaginable dangers. This was no way to live. She feared their luck would soon run out.

  “It’s OK, baby – it’s your momma. I’ve got you now. You’re safe, baby girl,” Nikki said, consoling her frightened child –wrapping the infant tightly in the pink blanket for warmth.

  Corbin and James did a quick recon around the barn; they found no additional signs of zombie activity anywhere. They walked to the edge of the property where pieces of the devastated fence lay in ruins. Beyond the fence, the two men could make out random, zigzagging zombie footprints from various directions all converging to one final staging area prior to busting through the weak, old fence. After about ten minutes, the two men returned to the barn where Nikki and Kara sat huddled together with baby Megan.

  “James and I are going to check the house,” Corbin said. “We saw a light on in the back part of the house. You ladies stay here. We’ve surveyed the area and see no signs of danger.” The two men left quickly with only their weapons and flashlights and jogged to the house. Corbin was surprised by how in-shape the old military veteran was. This guy had to be at least twelve to fifteen years his senior.

  A heavy, wet snow began falling.

  The front porch squeaked in painful protest under their heavy footsteps as the two men entered the house. They heard no commotion, no sounds. They slowly made their way to the illuminated back room. There was no power to the house so the light source must have been a candle or a lantern, probably similar to the one they had just used in the barn fight. James opened the door and moved into the room like a well-trained SWAT team member; Corbin followed close behind.

  The two men entered the house’s only bathroom. There in a tub filled with water and blood, Kevin’s lifeless body silently floated. His eyes stared aimlessly upwards. The oak handled butcher knife - the only witness to Kevin’s last minutes on Earth - lay in a pool of blood on the white-tiled floor next to a leather-bound book. The old farmer had finally allowed Mabel’s journal to rest.

  Corbin closed the bathroom door and the two men solemnly walked back to the barn, their bloody footprints disturbing the newly fallen November snow.

  Chapter 2

  October 21, 2011: Friday 2:30 PM – Illumination Pharmaceuticals - a lab twenty miles south of Boise, Idaho – approximately two years ago, a pair of research scientists whittle away at the remainder of the work week…

  “What do you mean it’s only two thirty?” Craig Masters asked, glaring angrily at his watch. “I swear to God this day will never end!” Craig was thirty-eight, slender and he had a well-groomed brown goatee with sideburns that had begun to gray prematurely.

  “It’s only been fifteen minutes since you asked the last time, Craig. Would you please just focus on the lab tests?” Julie pleaded. “It’s Friday and if we don’t get these last two reports to Mr. Timmons then you and I will be stuck here this weekend!” Julie Smith was in her mid-fifties, tall with shoulder length black hair (well, black after several color treatments, that is) tied into a ponytail and she had a tendency to wear a bit too much of her favorite perfume.

  The two lab techs had worked together since 2008 and recently began working on various reports and calculations for the pharmaceutical giant on flu-related research. Many of the reports related to new vaccines that they had created which were only slight variations of the H1N1 vaccines developed during mid-2009 and early-2010.

  There had been an abrupt decrease in flu-related deaths and a leveling off of new cases in mid-2010 due to the availability of quick-to-market, mass produced medications and the general populous following stricter guidelines regarding hygiene. As dumb as it seemed at the time to sneeze into your elbow instead of your hands, apparently this technique along with other common sense precautions seemed to retard the spread of the virus. Many countries had declared victory against the pandemic by July of that same year. Minor reports of the illness, in less industrialized countries, continued to be reported, but for the most part were isolated and well-contained.

  The United States, Canada and Mexico continued to develop additional safety precautions, guidelines and vaccines to avoid future problems in North America like the initial “swine flu” that surprised the world in early-2009. Britain, Germany and France instituted similar protocols for Europe. China, Russia and Japan developed joint task forces to combat the spread of the flu. OPEC countries funded similar ventures throughout the Middle East and Africa. Additionally, major committees were formed on each continent to coordinate the free flow of information and policies regarding the containment, treatment and control of the H1N1 virus and other possible future pandemics.

  “I’m sorry to be so bitchy today,” Craig chimed in after a few moments of silence. “It’s Mandy’s birthday tomorrow and I don’t have a gift. She’s going to kill me. She’s been a bit depressed lately since she lost her job last month and I’m sure me screwing up her birthday would push her over the edge!”

  Julie typed quickly and accurately at her computer as she tabled up various test results into the computer program. Multiple graphs and concentration samples were merged together as she patiently listened to her friend. She had been with Illumination Pharmaceuticals for going on twenty years now. Julie had grown accustomed to hearing about Craig and Amanda’s plight over the last few years, at least Craig’s version of the story. Julie had first met Amanda at a company luncheon about a year ago.

  “Craig, I’m sure you will find her something before tomorrow evening,” the senior technician assured her partner. “I know you two are going through some tough times, but all young marriages do.”

  Julie remembered back to her first marriage that had lasted just shy of one year. She had married at seventeen to the dismay of her parents back in the ‘70s to a man named Cicero Jamison, a young corporal destined for one of the last tours of duty in Vietnam. She was head-over-heels in love with a soon-to-be war hero and dreamed of building a family with him on his return. However, Corporal Jamison was tragically killed by friendly fire the week before he was due back home. His death devastated Julie and she swore off any future relationships for fear of losing another loved one.

  However, as she reached her early-thirties and her maternal clock began to tick ever louder, compounded by the fact that her other friends were well ahead of her in raising their own families - she abandoned her commitment phobia. She fell in love with her closest friend, Alexander Smith - an Egyptian sociologist that she had befriended many years earlier in college.

  Alexander had left Boston soon after he had finished his degrees to pursue excavation sites just outside of Giza. He urged Julie to follow him but she could not. Even though she had strong feelings for him, she chose to focus her attention on her career. Alexander eventually returned to the States to lecture about his amazing finds many years later.

  Julie had attended all of his lectures and they eventually began to date. The couple married and had fraternal twins, a boy named Zack and a daughter named Samantha. Both children were prominently displayed at the office in multiple digital frames on their mother’s desk.

  Craig was franticly pacing back and forth between the lab station and his computer. He eventually plopped down heavily in his squeaky chair. The younger tech was obviously frustrated at the time consuming tests in conjunction with fretting over the perfect gift for his wife.

  His frantic and disheveled appearance matched his desk. It was the complete opposite of Julie’s. While her desk was neat and compartmentalized, almost clinical – his desk looked as if an angry, rabid beaver lived there, possibly in one of the desk drawers – coming out nightly after everyone left t
he office to leave a wake of destruction in its path, the epicenter being Craig’s desk.

  “Julie, I don’t know how you’ve worked here for the last twenty years. I’ve been with the company for about three years now and spent nearly the last six months on these flu tests. I’m tired of seeing all of the charts, all of the graphs and especially having Mr. Timmons breathing down my neck the entire time!” he exclaimed as he rubbed his forehead.

  “This job has been good to me, Craig,” she said. “I’ve been able to put my kids through college and the house is almost completely paid off. I’m not too far from retiring and getting a great pension. So it’s easy for me to focus on the job. Plus, the day goes by much faster when I imagine Amanda choking you with her tiny hands when you give her some lame gift tomorrow evening!”

  “That’s not funny, Julie!” he yelled but quickly began laughing. He had grown very close to Julie in the three years that they had worked together. He considered her to be the older sister that he never had. She always calmed him down and had often given him great advice saving him from the brunt of Amanda’s “wrath” when he had done something stupid or forgotten some special date.

  “Yeah, maybe I’m blowing this out of proportion as usual,” he continued, “but I really must find her a great gift or I might as well just permanently move into the garage!”

  The two bantered back and forth as they tried to tidy up the results and finish off the outstanding reports. Over two hours had passed and the 5:00 PM deadline loomed ever larger. At 4:45 PM the phone rang in their office. Each glanced up from their computer screens at each other. As she saved her work, Julie thought to herself how Craig looked like a frightened deer caught in the headlights of an oncoming car.