Zombie Chaos Book 2

by Daniel Martone

Instinctively, I scooped up Azazel from the dashboard, just in case she had a sudden desire to hop through the open doorway and introduce herself to Sugar — or, more likely, hiss at the gator and lose her own furry head in the marsh.

  Clutching my disgruntled cat against my chest, I looked down at Sadie. “You sure you’re gonna be alright?”

  She beamed. “Might not have Myriam’s gifts, but I know how to keep da dead away.”

  I glanced through the windshield, and sure enough, my headlights had illuminated several rosemary bushes lining her front porch. They had obviously kept the zombies from getting to close to the house.

  Man, I wonder if rosemary would grow in northern Michigan. Could it survive the harsh winters?

  “Tanks for da lift,” she said.

  “No problem.”

  “Be careful out dere on da road.”

  “I’ll try,” I replied. “You take care, too.”

  “Oh, don’t worry ’bout me,” she said, sounding as stubborn as her sister. “I’ll be just fine.” Then, she slid the door shut and sauntered down the driveway.

  I released my squirming feline onto the dash, but kept my eyes on Sadie. When she stopped to pat “Sugar” on the head, I shook my own in amazement.

  What a strange fucking world it’s become.

  Once Sadie reached her front door safely, I stowed the AR-15, locked all the doors, and reclaimed my seat. Then, I reversed down the driveway, turned my van around, and retraced the route back to a road I recognized.

  Leaning over to rub Azazel’s chin, I said, “Next stop: Grandma’s house. This time, I swear it.”

  Fifteen minutes after depositing Sadie at her house, I’d found my way back to Airline Highway. I couldn’t believe it had taken me all goddamn day to go such a short distance. Obviously, I was way behind in my trek to reach Clare, and I was fucking determined not to get sidetracked again.

  Sidetrack. That’s Clare’s nickname. Not mine, dammit.

  I sighed. The longer we stayed apart, the more likely we’d never be together again. And there was no fucking way I’d let that happen.

  Still, as focused as I was on reaching Clare as soon as possible, a part of me wished that I’d taken the time to ask Sadie some more questions about what had happened to cause this global nightmare. Really, I was no closer to understanding what had created this fucktard situation in the first place. When Clare and I had listened to Samir’s bizarre warning and discussed its unbelievable ramifications, we’d understood that the trouble all began with an intercepted signal of some kind. Perhaps from a foreign power that inexplicably wanted to end the world or maybe some kind of bullshit alien situation.

  Sadie, on the other hand, believed the creatures had come from hell. Actually, she had called it the Infernal, whatever that was, and implied that a breach had opened up, releasing these fucked-up things into our world.

  Even given my lifelong love of horror and sci-fi and weirdness in general, the whole situation still seemed crazy, unlikely, and frankly impossible. But holy shit, it was really happening, wasn’t it? I might’ve smacked my head a couple of times that morning, but I hadn’t dreamed the entire day. Or had I?

  No. This all feels and smells too fucking real to be merely an alcohol-fueled nightmare.

  The sad truth was that I wouldn’t get any answers — not at the moment anyway. For now, all that mattered, all that made sense, was to continue down the highway, keeping my windshield pointed toward the state capital, aiming for Clare, and hoping for safety. And maybe, down the road, even a bit of serenity.

  It felt like Azazel and I had a long fucking way to go, but goddammit, we were gonna get there.

  CHAPTER

  19

  “Ninety-seven percent of nationwide coverage, and we get stuck in the three percent.” - Doug Bukowski, The Hills Have Eyes (2006)

  Ten minutes passed, and we’d traveled farther than we had in the first hour of our never-ending journey from New Orleans to Baton Rouge. The highway to hell had gone rural, and the auto traffic and ambling zombies had cleared out quite a bit.

  In fact, without my constant need to alternate between the brakes and the gas, the ride had smoothed out considerably. So much so that Azazel felt comfortable enough to stretch her legs and jump down from the dash.

  That was when it happened. As she leapt downward, her tail caught my cellphone, knocking it onto the floor. Naturally, the resulting thunk freaked her out, and she darted toward the back of the van, surely to find a safe hiding place from the startling sound that she herself had caused.

  Shaking my head in amusement, I leaned down and picked up the phone to reconnect it to the charger. Suddenly, I noticed the light blinking above my screen. With my eyes on the dimly lit road, I lifted the phone and unlocked the home screen.

  I had a text notification. A motherfucking text!

  My hands started shaking as I brought up the messaging app with one hand and kept the other on the steering wheel.

  It was from Clare. She was alive. My baby was fucking alive!

  Fuck everyone who doubted it. Including me.

  I slowed the van, opened the message, and scanned the text quickly.

  Joe, I hope you can read this. I was so happy when I got your text. I thought something terrible had happened. Where are you? Mom and I are in trouble. The house is surrounded. Must be a few hundred out there, if not more. They know we’re in here, and they’re trying to get to us. Not sure how long we can hold out. Please hurry. I love you.

  “Fuck. Fuck. FUCK!”

  It looked as though she’d sent the text about an hour ago, but my phone hadn’t received it until just now.

  Goddammit. All of my fucking screwing around.

  Maybe I’d helped some people, but in doing so, I’d left the love of my life vulnerable. She was in trouble — deep shit, no less — and I was still out and about, doing all kinds of stupid crap. Clare had always been the most important person in the world to me, and I refused to fucking fail her.

  I immediately braked the van and tried dialing her number. But that time, I didn’t even get the bullshit “all circuits are busy” voice. That time, there was zero signal. Not one damn bar.

  Not only had the zombie apocalypse brought down the nation’s communication networks, but since I was driving in the middle of bumfuck nowhere, there probably wasn’t a tower anywhere near me.

  I glanced over my shoulder and caught a glimpse of Azazel slinking into her carrier beneath the table. I must’ve forgotten to latch the gate, so it had opened during the ride. She’d always been a smart cat, and she could usually read my moods well. Anger made her bolt from the room, but fear and sickness often brought her closer.

  In this case, she likely knew that something serious was up. She’d heard the panic in my voice, and no matter what I was about to do to get back to her beloved mama, she’d feel a lot more secure inside her carrier, even with the gate swinging back and forth.

  Knowing Azazel was relatively safe, I slammed my foot onto the gas pedal, and the van careened down the highway. The next thirty minutes passed in a veritable blur. I didn’t recall much of what occurred. Whenever an occasional car or zombie appeared in my path, I didn’t even swerve my vehicle. Just rammed into it and not-so-politely shoved it aside by the welded steel plates along my front bumper.

  Cuz, fuck them. If anything or anyone got in my way, he, she, or it was soon out of my way… cuz holy shit, I had somewhere important to be.

  Survive the Zombie Chaos

  Not already a zombie? That’s fucking awesome! Stay alive and join us by becoming a survivor.

  We know you love your freedom, so we promise not to bombard you with junk mail. We’ll only notify you about new releases, giveaways, and recommendations.

  If you enjoyed Zombie Chaos Book 2: Highway to Hell, please consider leaving a positive review on Amazon.com.

  Be sure to check out Zombie Chaos Book 1: Bloodbath in the Big Easy if you haven’t yet…

  …and look for Zom
bie Chaos Book 3: Scout’s Honor — coming in early 2018.

  About the Authors

  Former residents of New Orleans, Laura and Daniel Martone now travel the country in their mobile writing studio, a cozy RV dubbed Serenity. As you might have guessed, they’re huge fans of Firefly, which is why they remodeled the interior of their RV after Captain Reynolds’ beloved spaceship. Together, they enjoy writing space opera, urban fantasy, time travel, epic fantasy, and, of course, post-apocalyptic zombie tales.

  Acknowledgments

  We appreciate the support from our friends, family, and fellow writers — and the inspiration gleaned from various zombie flicks and TV shows, especially Shaun of the Dead, The Walking Dead, and George Romero’s Dead movies — as well as our fellow fans of such stories.

  Of course, we couldn’t have continued this series (or finished this book) without the love and support of each other and our beloved kitty, Ruby Azazel. Lastly, we’re grateful to you, our fellow survivors, for joining Joe on his harrowing journey through the zombie-filled American South.