Zombie Chaos Book 2

by Daniel Martone

  “Uh, ladies,” I said, “you might not want to be here for this.”

  Nodding sadly, they rose to their feet, said “farewell” and “Godspeed” to Clovis, and trudged into the house.

  I glanced at Sadie, but she shook her head. Apparently, she wasn’t going anywhere. I smiled, admiring her strength and resolve.

  Then, Ray knelt beside Clovis, grasped his hand, and removed a long hunting knife from his hip sheath. What a heartbreaking tableau to witness: one man suffering, the other comforting him, and both filled with peace and determination.

  “Thank you, Ray,” Clovis whispered before closing his eyes.

  “Rest easy, Clovis,” Ray replied. “Give Lizabeth my best.”

  Then, before he could second-guess his decision, Ray slid the knife into Clovis’s head, piercing his brain through the ear canal. One sharp intake of breath, and Clovis was gone. After a few seconds, Ray withdrew the blade, wiped the blood on his friend’s shirt, and replaced the knife in his hip sheath. As he rose to his feet, he kept his eyes on Clovis.

  Undoubtedly, Ray had watched many fellow Marines perish. But I figured it was never easy to let your friends and loved ones go, even if you believed in a peaceful afterlife — which, sadly, I didn’t. And neither did Clare.

  So, unlike Clovis, I had no confidence that Clare and I would be reunited in heaven or hell. We only had one shot at happiness — in this life, such as it was — and goddammit, she’d better be alive when I finally reached Baton Rouge. Or else, I might actually embark on the vigilante murder spree I’d always promised would happen in the wake of her untimely demise.

  Looters and post-apocalyptic megalomaniacs, beware. If my wife is dead, your days are fucking numbered.

  CHAPTER

  17

  “I can’t lie to you about your chances, but… you have my sympathies.” - Ash, Alien (1979)

  Soon afterward, the shock and sadness had morphed into gratitude. Most of us, including Ray and his kids, were eager to get on the road and flee the wasteland that Gramercy had become, but we all needed a short break first. Death-defying experiences sapped a lot of energy.

  As most of us relaxed in Ray’s uber-tidy living room, drank some much-needed water, and tried to catch our collective breath, the two middle-aged couples (Uma and Rick, Eunice and Tony) seemed especially thankful for the successful rescue. I knew because they kept saying so — to me, Ray, the kids, even Frankie. Just as their constant thank you refrain started to grate on my nerves, I changed the subject and asked them where they intended to go in the aftermath of the zombie apocalypse.

  Like Ray and his two children, they planned to venture via boat to their fishing camps and wait out the craziness there, however long that might take — possibly forever. Southern Louisiana boasted countless fishing camps, whether nestled along the shores of various lakes and rivers, situated on islands deep within the cypress-filled bayous, or, like the one Clare’s father had owned before a nasty hurricane washed it away, balanced on pylons not far from the Gulf of Mexico. Many such camps were nothing more than cozy, raised cabins, only accessible via the water. Basically, the perfect hideouts for surviving a zombie apocalypse.

  Unless, of course, zombies could swim long distances. In that case, all bets would be off. But I refrained from expressing my concerns and dampening the mood. Uma and Eunice were still upset over Shirley, their friend and fellow parishioner, who’d escaped a burning church, only to lose her head a few moments later. Of course, their other friend, Clovis, who’d accompanied their husbands in the initial rescue attempt, now lay dead on the floor of Ray’s garage, not far from my van. So, I kept my pessimistic mouth shut.

  As it turned out, only Sadie intended to stay at her home in Gramercy — a fact her church pals considered more than just a little foolhardy. But really, none of us had all the answers or could predict the future, so who could attest to having the smartest plan? It was entirely probable that we were all fucked.

  That said, I couldn’t help but worry about my new friend — and his imminent isolation in the bayous of southern Louisiana. So, after a few minutes of necessary rest, once the time had come for me to hit the road again, I tried convincing Ray to forego his fishing camp scheme. I might’ve helped him rescue his cohorts, but I still felt obliged to him for saving my life and fixing my ride.

  “Listen,” I said when Ray and I had returned to the garage, “why don’t you and your kids come with me? Frankie, too. We have a ton of space up north. We’re on a lake, with lots of wooded property.”

  Ray smiled and shook his head. “Thanks, but we’ll be safe. You can only git to our place by boat, so we don’t have to worry about any of dem dead showing up.” He turned toward the workbench, scribbled something on a pad of paper, and tore off the sheet. Facing me again, he handed me the paper. “Besides, I don’t do snow. Michigan’s too damn cold for me.”

  I chuckled. “I don’t do snow either, believe me. But desperate times and all that…”

  He smirked. “Ain’t dat da truth?”

  I caught a glimpse of Clovis’s covered body near the side door, and my grin faded. “Do you need some help with him? Or the bodies next door?”

  “Nah, I’ll take care of it. Don’t wanna keep your wife waiting much longer.”

  I appreciated the fact that he didn’t question whether or not Clare was still alive. Frankly, I had questioned it enough for both of us.

  Just then, Travis and Nicole wandered into the garage, Frankie trailing them.

  Ray turned to his kids. “You two all packed up?”

  “Yes, sir,” Travis said.

  I gazed at the paper in my hand. Ray had written down a series of GPS coordinates, along with some other numbers and the name Cajun Corps.

  “Dat’s where we’ll be,” he explained. “At dose coordinates.”

  I was touched that he trusted me with this information. I assumed most military men and doomsday preppers kept such details close to their chests.

  “And the rest?”

  “Oh, dat’s how you can get in touch with us, assuming you got a shortwave?”

  “I do, but I don’t know how to use it yet,” I confessed. “I’ll figure it out once I get to Michigan.”

  Ray chuckled. “I’m sure you will. You might go crazy without it.”

  Although I definitely needed to learn how to operate the shortwave radio I’d bought, I didn’t feel the need to explain that Clare and I would never go crazy in isolation. We’d often said that, if we were the last two people on Earth, we’d be totally content. I just didn’t realize we’d actually get the chance to prove it.

  Before leaving, I put some more water in the radiator. I’d have to remember to flush the water out and replace it with antifreeze once we were up in Michigan, so it didn’t freeze up and break my radiator. I also sprayed the van with air freshener. Seriously, it was smelling like a goddamn slaughterhouse. I hooked my phone to the mounted charger. And last but not least, I excavated Clare’s ring from the bag of dirty clothes and tucked it back in her jewelry box — as if I’d never had to traverse a zombie-filled French Quarter to reclaim it from an overweight, over-the-hill porn king.

  The less I reflect on the stupid shit I’ve done today, the better.

  When I was finally ready, I ventured into the den and said “goodbye” and “good luck” to Uma, Eunice, Rick, and Tony. Then, Ray, Sadie, and the kids followed me into the garage for one last round of fare-the-wells.

  Before I had a chance to say anything, Ray thrust a pair of night-vision goggles and some night-vision binoculars into my hands.

  “What the hell,” I said, honestly flabbergasted.

  “Dose’ll come in handy, believe me.”

  “I know, but…” I wanted to give him something in return, but he pretty much had everything he and his children needed, including a stockpile of guns, walkie-talkies, and other equipment any self-reliant, ex-military man might possess.

  “No buts. Just take ’em.” He turned to his kids.
“Say goodbye to Mr. Joe. We’ll be flyin’ da coop soon after him.”

  Travis reached out and shook my hand. “Good luck, Mr. Joe.”

  “Take care, Travis. Watch after your father and your sister.”

  The boy nodded. “Yes, sir.”

  “Frankie, too.” I glanced at the dog, who now wore a leash Travis must’ve swiped from the Hamiltons’ house.

  At the sound of his name, the dog came forward and nudged my hand. I obliged him with a vigorous head rub.

  Then, without waiting for her cue, little Nicole rammed into my legs and hugged my waist. “Bye, Mr. Joe.”

  I leaned down and embraced her in return, the goggles and binoculars dangling from my arm. “Bye, sweetie. You be safe.”

  When she finally retreated, Ray extended his massive hand and shook mine firmly. “You be careful out dere,” he said, his expression earnest.

  “Same to you. And again, thanks for everything, Ray.”

  In a short amount of time, I’d made a solid friend, one I could definitely trust in the future. I hoped he felt the same way about me.

  “Not a problem, man. Thanks for your help, too.” He turned to Sadie, who’d remained on the steps. “Listen, could you do me one more favor an’ drop Miss Sadie off at her house? She’s only a little ways away, an’ you gotta head in dat direction anyway.”

  I smiled at her. “Sure thing.”

  Though eager to reach Baton Rouge, I figured I’d already delayed for less important reasons. How much harm could one more stop cause? Besides, now that I’d accomplished another near-death, adrenaline-draining experience in one long-ass day, my brain and body cried out for rest. So, maybe if I had some company, I wouldn’t end up falling asleep at the wheel and crashing into a tree.

  While Sadie hugged Ray, Travis, Nicole, and Frankie goodbye, I unlocked my passenger-side door, put the night-vision gear in my backpack, and shifted Azazel’s carrier from the passenger seat to the floor beneath the dining table, wedging it between the table leg and one of the benches so she wouldn’t slide around while in transit.

  Ray helped Sadie into the van and pulled the door shut. Before I claimed my own seat, I crouched in front of Azazel’s carrier. The damn cat had probably slept during most of the church escapade and aftermath, but now, she was gazing at me with her big, sad green eyes. Feeling guilty for imprisoning her for much of the day, I opened the gate, and she promptly slunk out. A quick yoga stretch, and she hopped onto Sadie’s lap. Then, from there, she jumped onto the dashboard and wedged herself against the windshield. Normally, I didn’t like leaving her there while I drove, but given all the current obstacles on the road, I doubted I’d be going fast enough to endanger her.

  I glanced around the van to ensure everything was secure, then slid behind the wheel, secured my seatbelt, and gave Ray the thumbs-up signal. He gazed toward the side door, where Travis was presumably keeping watch for zombies or other dangers in the driveway. Then, he grinned at me, opened the garage door, and waved goodbye.

  Waving in return, I reversed the van down the driveway, backed onto the street, and headed off with my latest passenger.

  CHAPTER

  18

  “You know nothing. Hell is only a word. The reality is much, much worse.” - Dr. Weir, Event Horizon (1997)

  After a few darkened blocks, I turned to my passenger. “Where to, Miss Sadie?”

  “Keep goin’ down dis road until it turn to dirt,” she replied. “Den take da first right.”

  She reached across the dashboard and stroked Azazel. The fact that my tiny tiger allowed an unfamiliar woman to touch her astonished me. Normally, she wasn’t very friendly to anyone but me and Clare, and yet here she lay, stretched out on the dash, getting her leopard-spotted belly rubbed by a complete stranger.

  Sadie must’ve felt my stare. She pivoted toward me and winked. “Got a sense around animals,” she explained. “I like dem an’ dey like me.”

  “That’s a useful gift to have,” I said, turning back to the windshield just in time to clip a sprinting zombie and propel the nasty creature onto a random front lawn.

  “Nah, I barely got any,” she lamented. “My sister got all da real gifts.”

  A sister? All at once, I knew exactly where I’d seen her before — or, rather, where I’d seen her likeness. She had the same round figure, the same jovial grin, the same warm, brown eyes. She was just a slightly older version.

  “You don’t, by any chance, have a sister named Myriam Beauvoir?”

  A huge smile spread across her face, lighting up her eyes. “Ya know Myriam?”

  “Sure do,” I said. “I used to live in the Quarter. Used to do my laundry at her place.” A wave of sadness crashed over me. I’d said I used to live in the Quarter. Hard to believe I’d only left my home that morning. Shit, a lot had happened since then. “Anyway, we were friends…” I almost laughed at what I’d just said, considering how Myriam had always felt about me. “Well, actually, my wife was friends with her.”

  In the glow of my headlights, I spotted a small cluster of zombies traipsing down the steps of a large double shotgun house, sporting a slew of gaping wounds and other disgusting features. One of the undead creatures was even munching on a severed hand. As a few of them stepped into the road, I swerved to the right and knocked two of the zombies into the others, sending them all tumbling down like rotting bowling pins.

  “You should know,” I continued, “your sister is still alive. At least she was when I left New Orleans this morning.”

  She grinned again. “No way deez creatures’ll ever git Myriam.” Spoken with absolutely no doubt.

  “Yeah, Myriam knows how to handle herself.” I turned to Sadie. “You ladies seem to know more about these creatures than the rest of us. Care to fill me in?”

  “Darlin’, don’t ya know? Deez da end of days,” she said solemnly. “Da Infernal done opened up an’ released its badness into da world.”

  “You mean, when there’s no more room left in hell…” I started to quip, but then immediately stopped talking at the sight of a four-hundred-pound zombie cook, still dressed in his work duds.

  Quickly, I swerved to the left to avoid him. My zombie-mobile was sturdy, but I feared hitting such a large target could do some real damage.

  “Turn here,” Sadie abruptly said.

  Slowing down to comply with her instructions, I realized I hadn’t even noticed we’d been rolling on dirt for a while, so engrossed had I been in our conversation. Still, this last-minute errand had taken way longer than Ray had suggested it would, when he’d asked me to drive Sadie home. Maybe he didn’t think it really mattered how long it took me to reach Baton Rouge. Perhaps he didn’t believe I had much of a chance of ever seeing my wife alive again.

  Shaking loose the negative thoughts, I focused instead on the road ahead. It narrowed considerably and eventually turned into a single lane. Fewer undead creatures seemed to be meandering around the wooded area than back in downtown Gramercy, but I still spotted a few here and there. After winding my way along the curvy dirt road and rumbling over several small bridges, I was about to ask how much longer the drive might take when the road suddenly dead-ended at a modest house, surrounded by a grove of pecan trees.

  “Dis da place,” Sadie announced.

  I’d figured as much, and unfortunately, several zombies were milling about on her driveway. They hadn’t reached her house yet, but they perked up when my headlight beams hit them.

  “Shit,” I said.

  I came to a halt several yards from the zombies, unbuckled my seatbelt, and headed to the sofa bed. As I opened the storage compartment and removed my AR-15. I wanted to conserve the shotgun shells for more immediate danger and I figured a little more practice with the AR couldn’t hurt. A moment later, I heard an exasperated sigh from the passenger seat.

  “Whatcha doin’, boy? My sugar can take care of ’em,” she said.

  I had no idea what the hell she was talking about — and had little time to was
te — I opened one of the rear doors, hopped onto the gravel driveway, and knelt down to take aim.

  The first two zombies (appropriately dressed in overalls, given the rustic environment) hit the ground after four shots. Using two bullets to drop each of them wasn’t terrible, considering how exhausted I was, but the third zombie posed a problem. He wore an expensive, black-leather motorcycle outfit and sported a shaded helmet, and while the bullets could technically penetrate the fiberglass, the biker still hadn’t fallen after three shots.

  “Dat’s da idiot who’s rentin’ da ol’ Smithy place down da road,” I heard Sadie shout from the front of the van. “He race fancy motorcycles.”

  “Great,” I mumbled as I took aim once again.

  Then, I heard the passenger door slide open and watched her step down onto the driveway, directly into my line of sight.

  As soon as her shoes touched the gravel, she shut the door and started screaming at the top of her lungs, “Sugar! Sugar! Come an’ git it!”

  Then, she scurried toward me (much faster than I would’ve expected, given her obese proportions), yanked me to my feet, and tugged me toward the rear of my van. After she clambered aboard, I followed suit and closed the door. As I trailed her to the front seats, I spotted a fourteen-foot alligator sauntering across the headlight beams. The giant creature latch onto the zombie’s ankle, and yank it to the ground. A scary and thrilling sight to behold.

  “You have a pet gator?”

  “He no one’s pet. He just live here.”

  Shit, she wasn’t kidding when she’d said animals liked her. The gator didn’t just destroy the zombie; he bit its helmeted head clean off and spit it into the nearby marsh. I only hoped that chomping zombies like that wouldn’t someday turn Sugar into a carnivorous, undead alligator. What a nightmare that would be!

  Sadie opened the passenger-side door again and stepped out of the van.