by D G Leigh
Evac: Zombie Apocalypse
(Book Two)
Alaska
v1.0
Copyright
Written by D G Leigh
Published by Bright Ideals Inc
Copyright 2018 D G Leigh
This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this ebook with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this ebook and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return it.
Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.
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Also by this author
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Grasslands
White Water
Lucifer's Cauldron
Sherlock Holmes: Fifty Jars of Sand
The Life and Death of a Guardian Angel
Final Flight
Highlander's Keep
The Massacre of Mankind
Monsters (Kindle exclusive)
Evac: Zombie Apocalypse (Hawaii)
Sherlock Holmes Vs The War of the Worlds
Animal Sex (#1 Amazon UK bestseller: Art/Erotica)
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Chapters
--- Prologue ---
Zero Day + Five
Zero Day + Six
Zero Week + One
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--- Prologue ---
The saddle stem penetrated the zombie's left eye socket with a juicy squish. A newly spawned soldier bolstering the ever multiplying undead ranks. Its bodily fluids fresh unlike its cursed brethren baked from endlessly roaming under the sun's blistering heat.
Zombies don't feel pain, they don't feel anything at all, not even satisfaction from their insatiable hungry once they've devoured an unfortunate victim that failed to evade their relentlessness. Fooled into believing it reacted to being forcefully shoved back the drooling beast groaned and hissed an unearthly vocal gargle. Denied its sole purpose.
Every living thing has two fundamental functions, find sustenance and reproduce. Mother Nature's cast-iron rules for survival. These simple creatures, self-replicating weapons that need no support or logistics to invade foreign shores, swifty defeated the most technological beings to ever grace this planet. Unaware and effortlessly, without victorious ceremonies, entirely reaped mankind's gloated throne.
Off balanced by the bicycle seat's awkward weight its contorted head leant to one side. Lurched a vigorous counter attack knocking old-man Red hard to the ground. Together the pair toppled in a writhing tangle of arms and legs. The zombie continued gnashing. Susan's padded saddle rested against Red's chest, the only thing restraining the walker's bite making contact. Weakening Red's arthritic hands stead against either shoulder no-longer stemmed its advance. Seeping gelatinous sludge lubricated the protruding rod. Snarling teeth drew nearer as the beast willingly impaled itself deeper. Edging along the shaft until finally, once completely pushed through the deranged creature's brain, scraping against the skull's inner backplate did the fiend shuddered limp. Its savage attack ceased.
A second ghoul broke cover. Descended directly upon Susan. Its teeth clamped down into her cycle helmet while its mangled hands that where missing a few gnawed fingers grasped her clothing preventing an escape. Susan struggled to break free. More zombies were coming, she could smell their stench, death thick on the air. Attracted by her screams.
Surprisingly physically strong the zombie thrashed its head to no avail trying to tear chucks of flesh. Susan shook like a rag doll, her feet left the floor. Somehow during the violent swinging motion her trembling hands managed to released the fasten. The zombie's head jerked upwards taking with it the helmet, its jaw still seized in place. Removed its talons to prise off the obstruction. Its attention elsewhere. Free from the walker's clasp Susan fell flat on her bum, shuffled backwards. Losing a shoe in the process. She didn't flee. Fear causes people to act stupidly. Spectated as the vile creature swatted to break it loose.
“Run!” Begged Red. “Run!”
Dislodged the safety helmet bounced to the floor. Refocused the second zombie swooped on the vulnerable tramp. Sinking its teeth deep into the hero's bearded neck. Red's last words became a squeal choking in his own gushing blood. “Runnnnaahhhh!”
Turbulence rocked the military helicopter promptly waking Susan from another bad dream. Embers of Red's and other people's ghastly screams rhythmically blended into the whirring rotor chop. Wide all seeing eyes but Susan distant. Unsure where she was in time? The nightmare not over. This was happening. The strangers were real. Her parents dead. No mummy to cuddle the darkness away. Flanking her inside the cold pulsating metal womb of the Blackhawk highly conditioned Navy SEALs sat unemotionally blanked faced. They'd a mission to complete. None parentally loved Susan but each would sacrifice their life in order to save hers.
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Zero Day + Five
--- One ---
Sheriff Shane McClure handed out Remington shotguns to his deputes and when he ran out of officers selected members of his Alaskan town's community were given the remaining firearms, some brought their own. Over the past three days he'd been fighting a losing battle to keep the residents of Elk Rock calm and under control.
Televisions are personalized forcefields, click the on-button and an invisible bubble shields the viewer from reality. Safe to watch the world's horrors from the safety and comfort of your own armchair. 911 all over again. This can't be happening, this can't be happening uttered in front of shocking news coverage. Believing you're safe until the sound of a low flying commercial jet passes directly overhead. How many of us looked up at the sky after that?
Events of concern started to occur much closer to home. Names of towns people recognized, places they could drive to in under a day. Familiar maps used for local weather forecasts were now shown on hourly bulletins. Hell was coming to Elk Rock as sure as night follows day. Gun stores sold out long before supermarkets shelves ran dry.
“George? George, where are you?” Joyce his wife of sixty plus years shuffled from room to room, used walls and furniture to steady her walk. Noticed the basement door ajar. He wouldn't be down there, not with those stairs to tackle, both of them suffered with bad hips. “George, are you down there?”
“Yes, sweetheart.” The tone of his voice suggested he's occupied with something?
“You shouldn't be down there.” Worried that some mischief might bestowed her husband. In their youth he used to chase her all over the house. Moved into this lovely bungalow after all stairs in general became a problem from the onset of old age.
“Oh, nothing!” In the dim light George shifted boxes. Checked recess. “Do you know where the removal people put my footlocker?”
He was making a lot of noise for oh, nothing! “Why do you need that old thing now? It's been down there gathering dust for the last thirteen years.”
The army locker contained his service revolver. “I want to check some stuff.”
“What stuff?” Joyce became curious. Poked her head round the door frame, she couldn't risk falling down the stairs herself. “Nothing but ghosts contained in that moth eaten case.” Tried to see what her husband was up to? “You're going to get filthy dirty before tea. What's ever so important?”
George couldn't lie, she'd pick that up straight away after more than half a century of marriage together. He needed to distract her. Best way he knew how was with his own question. “What did you want me for darling?” If he couldn't find his gun in time their bathroom cabinet of pills would be sufficient and less messy.
Joyce lost interest with his skulking. “The TV is broken. Every channel is show
ing the same stupid horror film.”
The police station's windows rattled as thundering rotors drowned out Shane's emergency instructions. What appeared to resemble an army helicopter touched down adjacently. The skilled pilot used to landing in difficult LZs. The intersection large enough to accommodate turning haulage trucks from logging mills.
Kept the engines powered up, spinning blades teetering on the edge of flight. Ready to instantly dust-off at the first signs of trouble. Fleeing traffic, family possessions strapped to roofs drove round the beating obstacle. One unit wouldn't be enough to save their town. So far the world's combined military might powerless against the abomination. Drivers proceeded with their exodus. Ignored formidable soldiers that formed a killzone perimeter against two foes that threaten their team's safety - stampeding civilians wishing to board or flesh craving zombies. Both would receive a bullet straight to the head.
Not interested with securing the town Major Fontaine marched into the neighbourhood friendly police station. No ribbons or an insignia displayed on his lapels. His troops issued nondescript fatigues. These men didn't exist. Mission files never saw the light of day.
Scared public crammed in the briefing room parted. Eyes and ears focused on chiselled Fontaine, a guy made from bedrock and twice as immovable. Got things completed his way, the only way. Spoke directly to Sheriff Shane without an introduction or waiting for him to finish his sentence. “I'm looking for Dr.King.” The mention of the name caused a mutter among the folk.
Shane thought they'd come to help defend, that another fifty airborne squadrons were about to descend out from the storm clouds and onto every school playing field and park. Fontaine's question barely registered. “Sorry? What?”
Fontaine didn't repeat himself. “His driving licence address was inconclusive. You arrested Dr.King for criminal damaged.” Handed Shane a copy of the report. “Where can we find him?” Crime rate here nothing like a big city, parking tickets or an occasional short lived bar room brawl. Shane didn't need reminding. Knew all the town's folks by name, especially Dr.King's.
Once head of the Princeton's botany department but now turned rogue eco warrior Dr.Ross King had caused trouble for one particular logging company that he'd claimed were felling protected trees. The firm's owner dropped the charges soon afterwards, didn't want any further investigations. All parties involved favoured this outcome.
“Dwayne, can you take over please.” Shane placed his deputy on the podium, the young officer wasn't as confident. “I won't be a moment. Make a list of those with medical or military training. We want to split the four defence groups into equal skill sets.” Reservedly requested Major Fontaine follow him to his sheriff's office. Once inside let rip. “You might be all high and mighty, a big who-ha back at the Pentagon but I'm here trying to save my town.” Shane dropped the pleasantries. “I'd really appreciate it if you didn't shit all over me while I'm inspiring those terrified citizens. Now with that out the way. What do you want?”
Fontaine took none of that onboard. “Again Sheriff, do you know Dr.King?”
Shane sat down at his desk. He wasn't the one in charge here. Let's give this hard-ass what he wants so I can get on with my job at hand he thought. “Three years ago. I arrested Ross King. Sugar poured into machinery gas tanks.” Unbelievable! The world on the brink of collapse. Shane stopped, this didn't make any sense. “With everything that's happening you're here for this?”
Fontaine wasn't answering questions, not even the President had that level of privilege. “Where's King?”
Kelly's tavern, the local whore and beer den, drunken labourers moan about King's continued interference. Disappearing tools, damaged equipment. Chaplin employed a security detail to guard his operation, mostly unskilled thugs. The elusive doctor still manages to be a thorn in Alyx Chaplin's ass.
“He's been living in the wild. Trailing Chaplin's outfit ever deeper into forest.”
Why hadn't the Sheriff done something about the ongoing intimidation? Either he's on Chaplin's payroll or being blackmailed by Ross? “How far?”
Shane fond of Dr.King. The more aggro he caused Chaplin the happier the Sheriff became. Shane and Alyx had history. Common rural town knowledge, you won't find that on any report. Folks love to gossip. Chaplin slept with Shane's daughter just because he could. Dangerous thing to personally upset the town's Sheriff. Some people are just dicks. Shane allowed the doctor a free hand. A constant irritant for Alyx. “The logging region is an arduous day or two drive from here. If he's still in town best speak with Chaplin for an exact location to his questionable operation. It certainly won't be where it's meant to be!” Jotted down directions to Alyx's home. “It's five blocks over. No parking for a helicopter!” Not even a thank you or goodbye from the Major as he left the office. “That's it? You're walking out? We could really use your expertise.” Shane chased him through the crowd.
Fontaine paused. Studied the Sheriff's whiteboard displaying Elk Rock's defensive plan. Four designated evacuation stations, Monroville Mall, Sherman High School, Van Winkle Airfield and St Augustine's county hospital. Details on how they'd use tree trunks to barricaded entrances and stacked cargo shipping containers to create safe corridors from one building to another, more like rat runs once Zak got inside.
Without remorse or lowering his voice Fontaine commented on their chances. “You're all going to die.”
--- Three ---
Frost on Leslie's eyelids made it difficult to fully open his sore eyes. The lovers frozen together. Wrapped in each others embrace. A light dusting of snow covered their bodies. They'd somehow survived till morning? Dawn's warmth weak at this high altitude. Below them at the base of the telescope piles of motionless undead coated in a sprinkling of white powder. Do they sleep too? No of cause not. What had happened to them? Leslie gently woke Jo careful not to disturb the comatose infected. Last night they'd managed to reach one of Mauna Kea's observatories before the pursuing horde. Climbed a twin domed building's access ladder, bolted the trapdoor. Cowered on the gantry. The curved structure made it impossible for the raging zombies to claw their way up.
Jo's eyes flickered open. Long lashes sparkled dewdrops. Couldn't move her body. Leslie softly rubbed her shoulders. “Ssshh!” He whispered. Good to hear his voice.
Blurry focus at first. Wide faultless blue sky. Puffy clouds far below them. “Are we in Heaven?” Death had been painless. The last thing she remembered was sobbing in Leslie's arms. How could she have fallen asleep?
“Not really” Kissed her. Slowly moved to one side so she could see.
Jo didn't scream, those days were gone. She'd witness too many horrors to be shocked. “Why aren't they moving? Is it over?” A fleeting moment of hope.
“I don't know? Before we have to find out let's secure this building.” Stood up. The dead remained still. “See if we can pop open a window? Put some heating on.” Offered Jo his hand, red raw from the cold.
“You do know this is an observatory? They don't come with windows.” Her body felt a hundred years old.
“Well there must be a hole where they poke out the telescope thingy?”
--- Four ---
Flying over a featureless flat surface pilots rely on instruments to check altitude and speed, although an experience pilot can always feel the rhythm of his machine's performance. An automated warning system constantly monitors ground level and airspeed, if an aircraft was heading into danger an audio alarm would sound. Most military pilots, as an unwritten rule, remove that component's fuse during low level insertions. You don't want a distracting klaxon going off as you dodge between trees successfully avoiding the RPG screaming towards you.
Under operational radio blackout the Blackhawk pilots conferred via their headsets.
Ninety miles out from Oahu “What's our position?” Fardip wanted his colleague to verify.
“Why, are you lost?” Ferguson joked. “Shall I drop you at flight school on the way back?”
On the horizon, rising out of t
he red algae ocean, something coming into view. Oahu's Diamond Head volcano's cone shouldn't be visible for another twenty minutes due to the Earth's curvature. “What do you make of that?”
Ferguson checked their GPS, twice. “We're where we're suppose to be. Must be a stranded ship.”
Fardip dismissed that answer. “Can't be, it's too large.” The radar scan returned no objects.
“Perhaps you're reading our altitude wrong?”
“Perhaps I'll kick you ass when we get back! I'm reading it right. Check yours.” The instruments matched, why wouldn't they? Their helmets moved and bobbed. Pilot chatter muted from passengers bandwave.
Susan more observant than then SEALs, had to be that's how she stayed alive. Nervously knew something was wrong? The same body language her mum and dad used when arguing. Too short to see out of the cockpit's windshield Susan leant onto the lap of the soldier next to her to sneak a peek from the gunnery emplacement.
Serviceman Remar trained to handle all sorts of combat situations except a seven year old nestled against him. Awkwardly patted Susan's head to soothe the child's fears. “It's okay. You're safe now. We'll be landing on our battleship soon.”