When the Dead Rise (Book 1): The Beginning

by C. M. Fick

  "Help is on the way ma'am; I'll stay on the line with you until..." Maggie hung up; the house, she noticed, had fallen silent. She rushed into the bedroom and stared in shock at Tyrone. He wasn't breathing. He wasn't moving.

  Maggie crumpled to the floor in the doorway, shock paralyzing her - Tyrone was dead. I waited too long.

  The dead didn't look the same as the living, Maggie knew from experience; they looked deflated, as if the part of them that made them human was gone. What they left behind was only a shell. She broke into fresh tears as she stared, unable to pull her eyes away from the lifeless corpse that lay in hers and Tyrone's bed.

  Maggie wasn't sure how long she sat on the floor with tears streaming down her face. It wasn't until Tyrone's hand twitched, that she returned to her senses. Had she imagined the movement or was it just the last electrical impulses firing off in his brain? She wiped the tears from her eyes and sniffled to clear the snot running from her nose. In her attempt to clear her sinuses, she was assaulted by the scent of ammonia; his bladder had released its contents meaning he was truly dead.

  "Post-mortem spasms," Maggie whispered to herself, wishing for the moment that she didn't understand so much about death.

  Tyrone's hand twitched again, as did his foot. Maggie got to her feet and slowly walked to the bed, intending on pulling the sheet up over Tyrone's head - she didn't want to witness more. Just as she pulled on the sheet, Tyrone's eyes flew open. Maggie staggered back with a squeak, bumping into the nightstand, which upset the light causing it to crash to the floor. She'd never heard of post-mortem spasms causing the eyes to open like that. In the dim light peeking through the curtains, Maggie watched in horror as Tyrone struggled to sit up.

  "Baby?" she asked almost in a whisper - she'd been sure he was dead.

  At the sound of her voice, Tyrone's head whipped to face her and Maggie saw the milky white of his eyes. This wasn't her boyfriend any longer - she didn't know what this thing in her boyfriend's skin was. The thing tracked Maggie as she scuttled for the door, not daring to turn her back on the creature. She watched in horror as it swung its legs over the side of the bed and attempted to stand. Its belly filled with air, puffing out like an emaciated child's, and a long low moan escaped its lips.

  Maggie's fear paralyzed her. She'd never seen anything like this creature before - other than in zombie movies... She went cold; this was exactly like a zombie movie and the stupid idiot who discovered the zombie always got eaten first. Maggie didn't want to get eaten by this monster. She watched as the thing shuffled forward, closing the gap between them. Its legs tangled in the sheet and it pitched forward, falling onto Maggie. It gnashed its teeth and clawed at her shirt, trying to gain purchase, but Maggie was able to wiggle free from its grasp. It collapsed in a heap to the floor. For being a zombie, it was incredibly uncoordinated. Maggie laughed at the absurd thought - how did she know what a zombie was supposed to be capable of? Her experience with zombies went as far as what Hollywood portrayed on screen and how could they know what a zombie was truly like?

  Standing there watching as the zombie struggled to its feet was wasting precious time - she needed to get somewhere safe, even if it was only temporarily. She ran down the hall, dashing into the spare room, and slammed the door closed behind her. Her heart was beating wildly as her mind raced to catch up with the reality of her situation. She leaned against the closed door and began to laugh; she sounded manic even to herself. Her fit of laughter quickly subsided when something heavy hit the door from the other side, making the room shudder. The monster trying to get into the room and eat her flesh moaned again and crashed into the door for a second time. Maggie realized she had to act quickly if she hoped to get out of the house before the thing got in.

  She cast a quick glance around, settling on a heavy waist-high dresser against the wall beside her; Maggie prayed the door would hold until she could maneuver piece of furniture into place. It took several heart-pounding minutes to push the dresser, all the while, the thing kept banging away. Once she heard a splintering sound, she knew the room wouldn't be safe for long. With the dresser barring the door from being opened - not that the thing knew how to open it anyways - Maggie rifled through the room searching for the gun Tyrone kept hidden there. She found it in the last place she looked - the bottom dresser drawer locked in a small metal box; there was no key.

  "You're an ass hole," Maggie shouted through the door. "What use is a gun, locked in a metal case without a key?" There was no response, but she hadn't expected the zombie to respond. The monster just kept up its incessant banging on the door.

  The door splintered off its hinges, the loud crack making Maggie jump. She was thankful she took the time to move the dresser; otherwise, it would already be in the room with her. She quickly changed into an old pair of scrubs she'd found in the closet, thankful she'd kept the oversized clothes after losing thirty pounds last year. She cursed when she realized her cell phone and keys were in her purse, hanging from a hook in the kitchen. She'd just have to try and sneak in the back door before that thing heard her.

  The door shuddered in its frame again, making loud cracking noises as the pounding increased in speed and strength. With one final crash, the door snapped in half, falling to the floor at Maggie's feet. The zombie stared at Maggie with its milky eyes and stumbled forward, falling over the dresser and landing in a heap inside the room.

  "You fucker!" Maggie shouted, as she pulled up the window, knocking out the screen. She struggled to get one leg out, and then ducked her head in an attempt to squeeze through the small opening. She could hear a siren close by and realized the paramedics are on their way to get Tyrone.

  "Too late now," she muttered, looking back to the zombie shuffling across the floor. Straddling the window ledge, she looked down to the ground beneath the window, relieved that she lived in a single story home. If she were on a second story, the fall would be a lot further and hurt a hell of a lot more. Realizing that she'd be unable to get her other leg through the opening without falling to her ass, Maggie took a deep breath, preparing herself for the fall. It was too late. Cold hands clasped her leg and she screamed as teeth sunk into her calf.

  Shocked, Maggie lost her balance and toppled out of the window, feeling her flesh tear free from the zombie's teeth as gravity forced her to the ground. She stared up as Tyrone's head popped through of the window, blood dripping from his maw and his mouth working in a chewing motion. In life, Tyrone was a large man, and now he was unable to force his body through the small opening of the window.

  "Small miracles," Maggie muttered.

  Food for the hungry...

  There was loud banging on the front door and the zombie's head disappeared from Maggie's view. She gingerly pulled up her pant leg to inspect the damage to her calf and had to swallow back bile as she inspected the bite - he'd taken a chunk of skin from her leg. Was that what he'd been chewing on? The banging on the front door continued, pulling Maggie back from the brink of hysteria. She knew she had to warn the paramedics not to open the door.

  "Hello? Did someone call nine-one-one?" a male voice called loudly, followed by three more heavy bangs on the front door.

  Maggie stumbled to her feet, trying not to put too much pressure on her wounded leg, and stumbled towards the front of the house.

  "We're responding to a call made to nine-one-one. We are entering the house in case you are unable to answer the door yourself," the voice shouted again.

  Maggie rounded the corner, a warning on her lips, just in time to watch the paramedics push the front door open. The Tyrone-shaped zombie fell through the door, latching its teeth into the closest paramedic and bit deeply into his neck.

  There was a grotesque gurgling sound followed by the second paramedic shouting, "Get off of him." He pulled at Tyrone's arm, as his partner struggled beneath the big man's weight. When that didn't distract the zombie from his gorging, he pounded on its back and head. Maggie watched in stunned horror as Tyrone ripped chunks of flesh
from the man's neck and shoulder, oblivious to the man standing above him. When the man beneath Tyrone stopped fighting and stilled, his attention turned to the living man standing over him. The paramedic gasped and stumbled back as the zombie reached for him. Opening its gore-filled mouth open, the zombie let out a low, inhuman moan that started from deep within him. The sound made Maggie shudder.

  She watched, unwilling to draw attention to herself by calling out a warning as the paramedic turned and dashed into the house. He swung the door closed behind him, but wasn't quite fast enough. Tyrone stumbled to his feet and reached through the doorway, stopping the swinging door before it was able to fully close.

  "It may have saved him if he'd gotten inside sooner," Maggie snorted as she watched the zombie push open the door and disappear inside. Within the minute, she heard the screams of the second paramedic before those too were silenced.

  Hobbling across the yard as quickly as her leg would allow, Maggie prayed that Tyrone hadn't taken her spare set of keys from the glove compartment of her car. He'd always hated knowing they were so easily accessible to someone who might want to steal her beat-up-hunk-of-junk. She flung open the door and fell onto the seat, slamming the door closed behind her. Ignoring the searing pain in her leg and the lightness of her head, she ransacked the glove compartment; there was momentary panic when Maggie couldn't find the spare keys amidst the clutter. When her fingers touched the cold metal of the keying, she breathed a sigh of relief and turned her attention to her leg. Blood pooled on the floor of the car. She knew that if she was going to make it to her sisters while she was still conscious, she needed to wrap the wound and stop the bleeding.

  In the back seat, Maggie found a cotton t-shirt she'd left in the car after one of her more grueling shifts and quickly tore two strips from the bottom of the shirt. She wadded up the remainder to use as an absorbent pad. With practiced skill, Maggie staunched the flow of blood in under a minute and cracked open a bottle of water. Fluids after blood-loss is a must!

  Just as she was putting the key into the ignition, movement in her peripheral vision made Maggie turn her head. It was the first paramedic; he stumbled into her car door. She cranked the key and the car roared to life. Throwing the car into reverse, she stomped on the gas. It flew down the drive. The tires squealed when Maggie spun the steering wheel as far right as it would go. The car swung onto the street then stopped, swaying from the violent turn. Maggie fumbled with the shifter as she watched the paramedic stumble towards her. With the car finally in drive Maggie sped past the house just in time to see Tyrone and the second paramedic stumble off of her porch.

  Poor choices...

  Maggie didn't remember the eight-minute drive to her sisters or her frantic banging on the door; she only remembered seeing her sister's panicked face when the door finally opened.

  "Oh God Maggie, what happened to you?" Anne exclaimed after taking in her sister's state.

  Maggie collapsed, bawling, into her sister's open arms. "Tyrone..." she gasped, unable to catch her breath, knowing she was going into shock.

  "Tyrone did this to you?" Anne asked incredulously.

  "Yes... No.. He's dead Anne." Maggie managed to get out between sobs.

  "Dead?" Now it was Anne's turn to be shocked. "How?"

  "He was dead but now he's not. He's walking around biting people Anne and they die and get back up to bite more people." Maggie looked up into her sister's frightened face. "I'm going to die and come back like them. I'm going to eat people too."

  "No baby," Anne stroked Maggie's hair gently as she spoke in a calming tone, but felt none of the calm she was trying to impart to her sister, "you aren't going to die or eat people. I don't know what you've been through, but you're a mess; you're in shock. Let's get you inside so I can take a look at you."

  Maggie went wild, thrashing against her sister's embrace. "No, not inside. I'm not going to put you at risk. If I die I'll come back and eat you."

  Anne looked down and noticed the wrapping on Maggie's calf; Anne's blood ran cold. Something very bad had happened to her baby sister. She was going to find out who'd done this to her and make them pay. "What happened to your leg sweetie?" Anne asked, unsure if she truly wanted an answer.

  Maggie's hand went down to the makeshift bandage, loosening the ties. Anne gasped when the cloth fell away revealing a nasty bite and a missing chunk of skin. "Who bit you?" she asked, unable to mask the horror in her voice.

  "Tyrone," Maggie wailed.

  "Well we're going to take you to the hospital..."

  "No!" Maggie screamed. "No hospital!"

  "Well baby, if I can't take you inside and I can't take you to the hospital, what do you expect me to do with you?" Anne wasn't sure what to do; she'd never seen anything like this before.

  Maggie looked up to Anne with glassy eyes. "Do you have any orange juice or lemonade? I need to keep my fluids and sugar up because of the blood loss."

  Anne sighed; for someone in shock she'd at least retained her medical training. "Sure thing baby. You wait right here and I'll be back in a few minutes with some juice for you." As Anne hurried back into the house to pour a glass of juice she remembered the sleeping pills she'd been prescribed a year earlier. If Maggie wasn't going to be reasonable, then she'd just have to make sure she was calm until Anne could get her to the hospital. It didn't take Anne long to crush the tiny blue pill, mixing some of the powder in with the juice. Before long, she was handing the spiked drink back to her sister, who chugged the whole thing in one breath.

  Anne sat rocking Maggie on the porch of her home, trying to decide what she'd do after dropping Maggie off at the hospital. She could go confront Tyrone, but the big man frightened Anne. She could go to the police and report the incident - but what would they do... Maggie had been bitten. Is biting considered abuse? Assault? "It sure as hell is," Anne said indignantly.

  Maggie gave a soft groan from Anne's lap; she was asleep at last.

  Volume 3: Wildfire

  Shifts end...

  Officer Rick Powell and his partner Officer Brett Lewis pulled into the stations parking lot, glad the day was finally over. Their final call of the evening had been a domestic dispute where the woman refused to press charges against her dead-beat husband; those type of calls always infuriated Powell. He'd been a cop for twenty-one years and knew he'd never understand why a battered woman would always stand by her man once the cops showed up. At least the day's over. He was looking forward to going home, taking a long, hot shower, and spending an evening with his wife and children.

  "What are you up to tonight Lewis?" Powell asked his partner as they exited the patrol car.

  "I was going to grab a drink with Tanya from booking when her shift ends." Lewis gave his partner a lewd look and Powell rolled his eyes. Lewis was twenty-six and fresh out of the academy. He hadn't yet learned that dating the women he worked with was a bad idea. That knowledge would come with time and experience.

  "Are you still..." Powell began but was cut off by a screech of tires. Both officers looked to the end of the parking lot as a car swerved around the bank of parked vehicles. "What's this now?" he sighed, lifting his arm to flag the car down.

  "Watch out Rick!" Lewis grabbed Powell, yanking him back, just as the car swerved in their direction and smashed into the cruiser next to them. Both officers ran to the driver's side door. It opened and a short woman with bleached hair struggled to free herself from the wreckage.

  Powell immediately took in the woman's condition; her wild eyes were glazed, she had a cut just above her left eye and he noticed her side was drenched with blood.

  "Get on the ground," Lewis shouted as he drew his weapon.

  "Easy." Powell placed a hand on his partner's arm, forcing the rookie to lower his weapon. "She's been hurt - let's get her out of the car and see what's going on." It took some manoeuvring but soon the woman stood on shaking legs, glancing wildly around the parking lot.

  Powell took the woman by her shoulders and gazed into h
er glassy eyes. "Where are you hurt? What is your name?" but his questions weren't to be answered; the woman collapsed in his arms. Lewis stood gaping, his mouth moved but no words came out. "Help me get her inside Lewis," Powell barked.

  They carried the bloody woman into the waiting area, laying her across several of the plastic seats. He gingerly lifted the side of the woman's shirt and both cops gasped when the shirt peeled away from two bloody holes in her side. Powell turned to his partner, who looked at the woman in shock. "Go get a first aid kit and tell whoever's working the desk to get another officer down here to take this woman's statement."

  Lewis didn't move. "Why didn't she go to the hospital?"

  "Does it look like I can ask her?" Powell snapped, motioning to the unconscious woman. "Just go do what I asked - and have whoever's there call an ambulance."

  Lewis had just disappeared from sight when the woman moaned and her eyes fluttered open. Powell squatted beside her, taking her hand in his large one. "Ma'am?" She moaned again and mumbled something he couldn't make out. "What is your name ma'am?" Powell spoke loudly, trying to draw the woman back to consciousness. The woman screamed, sitting bolt upright, and then grimaced as she grabbed her side. Her eyes met Powell's and the terror he saw there frightened the veteran cop. "What's your name ma'am?"

  Her whole body shook as she spoke in a trembling voice. "Roslyn. Roslyn Macpherson. Where am I? "

  "You're in the police station. You crashed into one of the cars in our parking lot." Powell paused for a moment, giving Roslyn time to acclimate herself with her surroundings; she still looked like she was in shock. He spoke in a low calming tone, "What happened to you Roslyn? Why did you come to the police station and not go to the hospital?"

  "They're eating my neighbours. They tried to eat me. My neighbours have gone crazy. They've started attacking and eating people. I couldn't go to the hospital because someone needs to go there and stop them from eating people," Roslyn rambled.