Zombies Ate My Neighbors, Family & Friends - Book 1 (Zombie Apocalypse Z Series)

by J. D. Chambliss

  “Amber, we don't have time for that,” he protested, trying to pull her away. She shook him off again and continued to shove the items inside as the undead grew closer. Frank thought he could see someone rounding the corner in the darkness. “What the hell did you hit anyway?” He looked about in the darkness, trying to find the source of the problem, but only found more canned goods. Whatever it was, it had either crawled away or had been knocked clear by the impact. He shrugged and proceeded to help her load the items into the cart.

  “Wait,” she said. Frank looked at her, hoping she had finally come to her senses. “We need to turn this upright.”

  Frank practically slammed the palm of his hand into his face, and then grabbed the cart, pulling it up with all his might. Once the cart was sitting upright again they continued to load it. Can after can, they could hear the zombie hordes drawing closer. After a minute or two Frank finally had enough. “Dammit, Amber, I'm not dying for a can of string beans. Let's go!”

  She protested, but only slightly as he grabbed the cart and ran toward the back of the store. Frank looked back in time to see a hand come out of the darkness attempting to grab where Amber had just been. She wanted to scream trying to pull the shotgun from her back. She was not successful; he fired where he thought the source of the commotion careful to avoid his daughter. The shot briefly illuminated their section of the store like the flashbulb of an old, time camera; a horde of the undead were shambling towards them.

  “They're all around us!” Amber screamed, the hand of death coming towards her, the horde of undead shoppers

  Frank, failing to pay attention, slammed the cart into a display case, knocking loose a group of music cards which scattered across the floor like massive black cockroaches skittering away from the action behind. The cart bumped and jerked as Frank pushed through the mess. A couple dozen cracks ensured that these cards would never play a sound again.

  Amber continued to fire into the zombie horde as Frank screamed “Right!” and slammed through a pair of free swinging doors, taking them down a brick hallway, though at this point the only light came from the muzzle of Amber's shotgun. It was surreal, almost as if they were in a strobe light dominated nightclub. Each shot revealed more of the hallway ahead, but Frank was uncertain as to when he should make a turn. He knew that a left was coming up, but where was it? The next shotgun blast showed him that he was almost a second too late. He made a hard right, grabbing his daughter by the shoulder to make sure she followed. They were there. They had made it to the loading dock.

  “It's up here!” Frank yelled. “There's a door! I can see light coming through!”

  It was dim, but there was indeed a light. It was a sliver, obviously coming through a thin, mesh covered window and illuminating only a small piece of the floor, courtesy of the noon-day sun. It was the light at the end of the tunnel, their salvation from hell. It came just in time, as Amber screamed. “I have to reload!”

  “Leave it!” Frank screamed as he pushed toward the door. The last thing he wanted was for Amber to start reloading in the midst of the zombie horde, especially when their freedom was so close at hand.

  As the door grew larger and closer, he couldn't help but remember the entry door that Amber had slammed against. It shouldn't happen here, but what if it did? What if they were truly trapped inside the store? Frank certainly didn't relish the thought of dying inside the local Walmart, and he wouldn't have to. The moment his cart hit the door, it swung open, blinding both of them with the hot, natural light bathing the Ohio landscape.

  “So today is the nicest day of the year in Ohio, and there have to be zombies!” Amber shouted.

  She wasn't wrong. Most days in Ohio were severely overcast with only a few moments of sunlight. The fact that it had remained sunny for so long was nothing short of a disturbing anomaly.

  “The truck is parked around front,” Frank lamented. “The truck is parked around FRONT!”

  He screamed this aloud as they ran across the newly paved asphalt toward the end of the store. As they ran, the undead piled through the small door, giving a chase the likes of which one would normally only see at a boy band concert.

  ***

  Sarah Frost stepped out the side door of the Hosier house. Though she was socially inept, to say the least, she had no trouble getting around on her own. She carefully walked down each step and took off slowly in the direction of the forest. It was high noon, and the area was brightly lit, but no one seemed to notice her making an exit. She wasn't sure why she was leaving, or where she was going to go, but she had been here long enough – this she knew for certain.

  She stepped through knee high grass and carefully avoided horse droppings as she focused on a single tree off in the distance. Partway through her short journey, she tripped over a rock and skinned her knee. Without crying out and as if it never happened, she simply stood up and continued to walk despite the warm blood running down her leg, soaking her socks and creating a modern art collage across the sides of her white sneakers. With an expressionless countenance, she reached the tree she'd been focused on and pressed her hand against the bark. She remained for a moment and then removed her hand from the tree, walking past, and into the darkened forest.

  Behind her, the sound of a truck pulling down the gravel driveway was heard – it was Amber and Frank, returning from their shopping trip, but this sound and notion barely registered. The last sound she heard before disappearing into the forest was that of Virginia bursting through the back door calling desperately after Sarah. It was too late, Sarah had already vanished.

  ***

  Aimee blinked, almost as if she were trying to squeeze the sunlight from her eyes. She looked again at the end of the street. It was certainly the outline of a man, but that was impossible. Everyone she had met thus far had been...one of them. Who was this? She raised her hand to her forehead and squinted again. Yes, it was a man. Against the horizon, he was merely an outline, but he wasn't stumbling like a zombie. In fact, he wasn't moving at all. She raised her hand in a greeting. He waved back. It was true. After all this time, she'd finally found another human being – hopefully.

  She cautiously walked down the street, past dead, rotting corpses, baked in the mid-day sun, and cars, either parked, or stopped in awkward positions, having wrecked in the wake of the disaster. She passed an old Mercury Sable, and nearly jumped out of her skin as a pair of slimy, rotting hands slammed against the driver side window. A quick inspection showed her that a zombie, if that's what it actually was, had been trapped inside the car. It had no idea how to operate a door handle, and was pounding hopelessly against impenetrable safety glass. She backed off a bit, her foot kicking a discarded hubcap, and her fingers tightening around the crowbar in her right hand.

  Breathing heavily, she turned back toward the end of the street, where the man was still standing. Her vision had adjusted now. She could tell that he was a black man, standing about six feet in height. He was older, about forty, and fairly well dressed with a navy blue t-shirt beneath a brown leather coat. His unstained and untorn blue jeans showed Aimee that he had certainly not been in the thick of it, at least not to any extent. He did not move as she approached him, and she stopped about five feet short. She gripped the crowbar, ready to swing at a moment's notice.

  “Who are you?” She demanded, her thick Cuban accent cutting through the hot silence.

  “My name is Jonah,” he said. “I am here to put a stop to this, if I can.”

  “A stop to what?” She demanded, looking around. “Do you know what is happening here in this place?”

  “Not only this place,” Jonah said. “It is happening here; it is happening in your homeland...and in many other places.”

  “What can we do?”

  “As much as we can.”

  ***

  The door was barricaded shut, though there was no reason for it. Ross had simply chosen to be cautious. Jill lay beside him on the office floor, if you could call it an office. It was more
like a supply closet with a desk. They hadn't gone much further than kissing. Ross couldn't figure out how, and Jill had been too damaged to even consider it.

  “What are we doing?” Jill asked the ceiling.

  “I don't know,” Ross, replied to the ceiling in kind.

  “I feel...” She said. “..I feel like something's happened. It's like I feel something for the first time in my life. I was with...him...but he wasn't with me. He was with so many other girls...” A single tear ran down her cheek, but Ross was at a complete loss as to what he should do about it. Should be comfort her? Hold her? “What's wrong with you?” She asked, half joking.

  “I think I have mommy issues,” He replied, also half joking. Jill snorted, stopping herself short of laughing.

  “Knowing your mother, yeah,” She said with a grin on her face.

  “You know my mother?”

  “Who the hell doesn't know your mother?” Now she was laughing. “When Mr. Briggs started teaching evolution, she ran into the office threatening to sue.”

  “Wait, was that the main office or the glass office with the student run supply shop?”

  “You should have seen the look on the kid's face,” Jill grinned.

  “No wonder no one liked me,” Ross mused.

  “Sweetie we've gone over this, people don't like you, because you're an antisocial asshole, not because your mom is a hateful bigot.”

  “Hey--” Ross started to say. “Well, never mind.”

  Jill finally began to laugh uncontrollably. Ross grinned, and soon enough, they were both laughing in spite of the situation. She leaned over and gave Ross a short kiss on the cheek. He fell silent for a moment before speaking.

  “We should go.”

  Jill nodded, sitting up with one hand on the floor behind her for support.

  “I've got the key, all we need to do is go out, and we'll be next to the football field.”

  “I hate the football field.”

  “Well, I respect your life choices.”

  They both rose from the floor and Ross pulled the desk away from the door, pushing it back into its original position. Ross clutched the .38 revolver in his right hand while Jill held the exterior door key. It was time to go. They walked down the hallway and took the turn toward the outside door. As they did so, the lights finally began to flicker.

  “Power's probably out. The school has a backup generator but it doesn't last very long,” Jill explained.

  Luckily, they were already at the outside door, ready to make a run across the back lawn of the school. Jill pushed the key into the lock and turned. The lock clicked, and she turned the knob, freeing the hollow metal door from its frame. It came easily, suggesting that more than one person had passed through here regularly.

  The door opened to a concrete staircase set into the ground, and the staircase looked like it had seen better days, to say the least. Ross led the way with his .38 ahead of him, carefully considering each step. As he poked his head above ground, a quick inspection showed him that there were no 'zombies' in the immediate area. They exited, shutting the door behind them, and sat on an industrial air conditioning unit directly beside the staircase.

  Ross looked at the landscape before him. It was midday, and he was sitting behind his school – a school that now lay in ruins. In some way, this was actually a bit satisfying. For the first time he felt content. There was no one to give him orders, no one would be picking on him, and he was sitting beside a girl who seemed to like him, for once. It was as if a huge burden had been lifted from his soul. He felt...lighter.

  For the first time in his life he didn't feel as if he were being suffocated. To the average person it might sound like nothing, but to him, at this point in time, he felt free. He breathed a sigh of relief and smiled slightly as he reached to his left and took Jill's hand in his. She immediately looked down at their intertwined hands, surprised at first, but she quickly relaxed and smiled at him. He looked at her face, probably for the first time. She was cute, to say the least. Her long hair nearly covered her ears, which, while huge, were still adorable. She had freckles, and plenty of them, but they didn't make her less attractive.

  Touching her cheek, he leaned in and kissed her. He expected her to pull away, but she instead leaned into him. He couldn't believe this was happening. He closed his eyes and wrapped his arms around her, holding her tight. It was his first real kiss, or at least since they'd left the school, and his entire body felt...simply amazing. He could never replicate this feeling even if he tried. Here he was connecting with someone who felt as alone and as vulnerable as he had for all these years. He could see the pain in her eyes, the scars on her soul, and at that moment he vowed to never let her go.

  They pulled themselves apart, and Jill smiled at him. He touched her cheek again, and then watched as her smile faded and turned into a twisted expression of pain and agony. She screamed, loudly, and Ross pulled back. To his horror, a zombie had crept up behind them while they were otherwise engaged. He couldn't save her. The...thing had sunk its teeth into her neck, breaking her jugular and causing red liquid to spray everywhere. All over the wall, all over Jill...all over Ross. He fell back, utterly horrified as the life evacuated her eyes and the screaming stopped, becoming nothing more than a gargling noise as blood spurted from her open mouth. Was this really happening? He didn't want to believe it, but the gruesome scene before him didn’t' lie.

  “Jill?!” He shouted as he backed off the air conditioner and rose to his feet. He raised the .38 revolver and pointed it at the undead creature with shaky hands. “Jill? Oh God, no...Jill please!”

  She didn't respond. She wouldn't respond. She was dead.

  “Oh God no, no, no, no,” He screamed, squeezing the trigger and watching the bullets pierce the thing's head. Silver blood painted the brick wall behind them, and the zombie slumped over Jill, its teeth still tearing into her neck. It was dead...but...Ross looked closer. “Oh shit,” He screamed.

  The zombie was none other than Jill's ex-boyfriend, Kyle, the boy he'd gunned down in cold blood just hours before. This was nothing more than a series of events he'd set in motion. Ross fell to his knees, barely registering the pain as his legs made impact with the hard ground. Within seconds, the barrel of the .38 was in his mouth, hot steel burning his lips. He sobbed and squeezed the trigger, hearing nothing but a click, and the sound of the drum rotating within the frame of the weapon. It was empty. He'd expended all of his rounds. He couldn't even die properly.

  Throwing the revolver to the ground he climbed to his feet, running across the field, toward a patch of forest in the distance. He had no direction in mind, and he right now simply didn't care.

  ***

  Jack was once again dressed in a military uniform, though this time it was a set of outdated BDU's, otherwise known as the Battle Dress Uniform. It was apparently all the militia could get their hands on.

  “Hey, new guy!” One of his squad mates hissed in the darkness. “I'm going to take a piss, watch the perimeter!”

  Who the hell was that anyway? Everyone had a name tape, amazingly, but he sure as hell couldn't see them at night, and the last thing he wanted to do was get to know these people.

  “Roger that,” He said as his watch partner climbed down from the wall and headed toward the portable toilets, placed along the perimeter of the camp.

  Jack had been here for two days, if that, and he was already being trusted with watch duty. He'd done his best to make himself appear enthusiastic, and though he'd only made it partway through basic training, they seemed to find his skills invaluable. This, of course, was their failing. Jack simply had better things to do. His sister Sarah was somewhere in Ohio, and he regretted leaving the state, especially with his father in the picture. Now Sarah might be all alone, and that simply wouldn't do. He looked over the wall, then looked back into the camp. It was the perfect time; everyone was sleeping. He would be pursued, undoubtedly, but he had to try.

  To put it lightly, this 'militia'
was unstable. It was simply a group of ex-military individuals who either missed the military life, or felt that it was their God given right to protect the general public.

  With a bit of nausea, he recalled the speech given by Major Dunfield during morning formation.

  “Last week, we were a militia living on the fringes of society, laughed at by the regular military, and feared by the locals. Today, we are the last line of defense between the undead and the state of Oklahoma. We will complete our duties, and we will give no thought to our own well-being...”

  These people were nothing more than a joke. To Jack, they were simply a group of people in the woods playing Army, and having been a soldier himself (almost), it made him sick.

  He peeked over the wall and noted that it was only a ten foot drop or so. He gripped his weapon, and sat on the edge of the wall, hoping to at least land on is feet. Taking one last deep breath, he slid off and waited for the ground to greet him. It wouldn't be long before the rest of the fake soldiers were on his tail.

  Aimee's Journal - May 16, 2019

  Jonah is less than forthcoming. He seems to have my best interest at heart, though I do not know why. He does not know me, and the world is falling apart around us. Maybe, there are some things I should try not to understand. I heard on the radio that the entire east coast has been affected by the zombie outbreak, if that's even what this is. What will I find when I get to Akron? Will my family still be there? Will they be dead? Or worse, will they have been affected by the plague? I am not certain of anything anymore, and I do not know what is going to happen.

  Chapter 5

  Aimee's Journal - May 16, 2019

  Jonah is less than forthcoming. He seems to have my best interest at heart, though I do not know why. He does not know me, and the world is falling apart around us. Maybe, there are some things I should try not to understand. I heard on the radio that the entire east coast has been affected by the zombie outbreak, if that's even what this is. What will I find when I get to Akron? Will my family still be there? Will they be dead? Or worse, will they have been affected by the plague? I am not certain of anything anymore, and I do not know what is going to happen.