Z-Risen (Book 1): Outbreak

by Long, Timothy W.

  We moved onto a new section of town about half a mile from our current location. Joel wore his combat gear and had the NYFD ball cap on backwards. His AR-15 swept in every direction. We had a map back at Fortress and Joel kept marking off sections we’d explored. This wasn’t one of them. Virgin territory to us. Probably Z-infested and picked over but we had to get lucky eventually.

  There were older homes here and we were far enough from the Naval base that I hoped we weren’t busting into other sailor’s houses and stealing their shit. Yeah, I realize that most of them were probably dead but it still felt like the wrong thing to do.

  We came across the home at the end of a cul-de-sac. The place was newer or remodeled and really out of place in the ghetto that made up most of this neighborhood. That’s what Joel called it, but it was a lot nicer than where I grew up in Detroit. My school was so rough, the only things that kept me from getting my ass kicked, consistently, were my fists and my size. I’d been a bully then, because it was expected, but I never liked it. Much.

  “How about this place?” I whispered near Joel’s ear.

  He was crouched behind a beat up sedan and going over his rifle. When he wasn’t shooting at Z’s, Joel was inspecting his weapon. I had my .45 M45A1 holstered but my pipe wrench was at hand. Bring on the Z’s. I was ready to bash some heads. I was the silent partner, as Joel liked to put it. Point me in the direction of a few of the dead and I’d take them down with a swing or two.

  A group of Z’s moved one block west of our location. They were a nasty bunch that probably turned during the first few days of the outbreak. Dressed in rags, they had that starved look with sunken cheeks and hollow eye sockets. The leader had a steady but slow gait, thanks to a broken foot. His face was caved in and one eye socket was covered in dried blood and a fuck load of maggots.

  “I’m gonna puke,” Joel whispered.

  “Don’t start cause I’ll be right behind you. Hard to shoot Z’s when you’re tossing your lunch.”

  “Good Christ in heaven. How is something like that even on its feet?

  Every time he staggered forward, a couple of bugs fell off his face and he nearly lost his footing. Then this decayed dude would right himself, swing his good leg again and stumble forward. The four behind him weren’t in much better shape. A woman in a jogging suit was missing most of her face but at least it wasn’t filled with maggots. Just gore and stuff that might have been bone.

  Another group followed and this bunch was much fresher. When I write about fresh Z’s you have to understand that there’s a whole host of the dead out there. Sure, the first bunch were old and rotted. We saw a lot of those. When the body dies, or comes down with whatever shit virus had killed the world, the body rots. Then stuff starts to fall off. The parts that are left reek like the worst rancid meat you ever smelled. Man, I just can’t describe it. Go to a dump in the summer and walk right to the center. I guarantee it won’t be as bad as these things.

  So the second batch were a lot fresher. The rot was setting in but they were walking and jawing. That is, their mouths kind of unhinged and their tongues stuck out. If one of these Z’s fell, odds were good that a hunk of meat was hitting the ground, maybe a piece of a kneecap or an elbow. The biggest problem was how fast they were. Take a week-old rotted Z. They can’t chase worth a shit. A day-old slugger? They’re almost as fast as a live person. Get ten of those together and it’s a hell of a bad day.

  They moved around the first group, seemingly oblivious to the rotters. Then they pressed on toward the end of the block, but not before one whipped its head around and stared right at our hiding spot. It shuffled around in a circle then looked toward the sky and let out a moan. Milky white eyes settled on us again, but they weren’t aware we were in the bushes.

  It was a long five minutes while we waited for the second batch to round the corner and move out of eyesight. One of the rotters, however, picked a spot on the ground and stared at it. That’s when I saw the figure dart around a house next to the one we were trying to raid. They were dressed in black and wore a ski mask. They had a bunch of knives strapped to their chest and a handgun of some sort. They took up a position in the shadow of the green rambler and froze in place.

  Joel didn’t move, either, and that meant I was a statue. After a few minutes the figure moved off. He or she did not even look in our direction. Joel and I sighed at about the same time and then shot each other disapproving looks.

  We moved around the house and checked the windows. Locked.

  The house’s front door was closed and that was a good sign. Too often we came across front doors and windows smashed in, and that meant someone had already picked the place clean.

  “This place looks deserted but it might be like fortress. Guy in there with a shotgun would take us down pretty easily,” Joel whispered.

  “Should we knock?” I asked.

  “Yeah. You go knock and if you get shot I’ll know to go back to Fortress.”

  “Let’s scout the back.”

  Joel clapped my back. “See, I’ll make a warrior out of you yet.”

  “Be better if you could make some damn hot wings,” I said.

  The house had an older pine fence with most of a finish. Looks like the apocalypse put a stop to that. A can of wood stain lay off to one side. It was kicked over and empty. I moved to peek over the top and didn’t see a dog waiting to chase us toward our recently departed zombie horde.

  Joel pushed at the gate but it didn’t budge. I slipped my hand over the top and felt around until I found a release, then slid the gate open. We crept into the back yard with Joel Kelly in the lead. He dashed to the edge of the home and then crouched with his AR covering the backyard. He didn’t move for a full fifteen seconds and then slipped around the back.

  I had to wonder what I’d do if I was, say, lounging around in my back yard in a pair of boxers and someone crept along the side of my house dressed in tactical gear and carrying an assault rifle. I’d probably shit myself and then offer them everything in my wallet.

  Joel moved into the yard and I followed. Then he stopped, dropped to a crouch, and gestured for me to get down. I complied with his instructions and faded toward a small maple. It was one of the healthiest trees I’d seen and that worried me. Did someone live here? Someone with the means to take care of their shrubs? I shook my head. It was probably just the unseasonably warm autumn we were experiencing. It really looked healthy. It was garnet and willowy but didn’t provide a lot of cover, especially for my BDU’s

  Joel motioned and I followed his hands. There was a pile of something near the sliding glass door. I shook my head because I couldn’t believe it.

  There had to be fifteen or twenty bodies in various states of decay. Flies buzzed around in a swarm of black. The sound was enough to drive me nuts.

  The smell was horrendous.

  All of the bodies were female and all were nude. Clothing was lain on top of them but arranged in a garish way, like they were some kind of clowns. The woman on top was probably in her fifties when she died and not exactly the spitting image of a super model. She was a mom, or had been, but now she was dead and her face was covered in someone’s crude attempt at makeup. Bright red hooker lipstick rode her dry lips. Her mouth was open and she didn’t have any teeth, just a bunch of bloody holes.

  “The fuck?” Joel said exactly what I was thinking, except I was thinking it over and over in my head.

  Another woman was much younger but most of her face was smashed in. Her neck was cocked at an impossible angle and I feared that if I touched her the head would loll toward me and her eyes would snap open.

  “Were they all Z’s before they were killed?”

  “I don’t know, man. I don’t know.” Joel shook his head.

  I wondered if he was thinking what I was thinking. That some sick fuck needed to die for this. Take a Z down, man. Don’t be a fucking asshole.

  I pointed at the house and Joel followed my finger and stared for a full half minute.


  “We should go somewhere else.”

  “Yeah. We should. Stay here and back me up.”

  “Dammit. We should leave,” I whispered.

  “I want to know what’s up,” Joel said. His eyes didn’t look inquisitive. They looked pissed.

  “Going in blazing?” I asked.

  “I’m not stupid.”

  “Yeah, okay, Mr. Marine.”

  Joel puckered his lips like he was preparing to blow me a Marine kiss and then shot me the finger. He crept to the edge of the house and lowered himself next to the sliding glass door. He took a quick peek and then dropped back a few feet. No one blasted. Good enough start.

  Joel took another look and this time lingered. He stared and stared and then he motioned for me to join him.

  “Break it. Break the fucking door.” He nodded at my giant wrench.

  “Really?”

  “Dude. Just do it.” His eyes burned so I shrugged and took a swing.

  Just before the wrench shattered the window, I saw why.

  When the glass hit the patio and floor, I stood in place while my brain tried to make sense of the scene.

  Then my face flushed and my blood boiled.

  Joel went in yelling.

  “Down, get the fuck down! I am not messing around! If you make one wrong move I’ll erase you!”

  The man with his pants around his ankles looked at us and then slowly raised his arms.

  I took a step toward him with the wrench raised and murder in my blood. I wanted to beat this guy until he was pulp and then toss him on the pile outside.

  His living room was a mess of old clothes and empty food containers. There were so many empty packs of crackers and candy bars I wouldn’t be able to take a step without something crackling under foot.

  Someone had spray-painted the words “MONSTER KEN” on one of the walls in blood red paint.

  The house was dark and warm. It reeked of garbage and blood. It smelled like the dead. On top of that, the guy before us smelled like he hadn’t showered in a month.

  The worst part was the girl. She was bent over the arm of a light brown leather couch that was stained with blood. Her naked legs moved but that was all. Her arms were tied at the wrist, behind her back. She moaned but couldn’t move her head because a rope had been tied around her neck and stretched to the other side of the couch and then tied to something.

  “Notmenotmenotmenotme! It’s Ken. He’s the monstermonster monsterman! Ken’s coming back. Not me not me not fucking me.”

  “Shut up or I’ll end you.” Joel’s voice was full of barely-controlled rage.

  I didn’t say anything because every fiber of my being wanted to crush in his skull. I clenched the wrench so hard my hand trembled.

  “Ken did Ken did Ken did,” the guy rambled on and on under his breath.

  “Let her go,” I said.

  “Can’t. Can’t do it. Can’t until Ken gets here but he said I could take a turn. See? He said it was cool so it’s cool and everything’s cool. So cool.” He touched the girl’s back and ran his hands over her waist, then gave her butt a squeeze.

  “Rapist.” Joel pronounced it like a death sentence and raised his weapon.

  “Can’t rape the dead.” The man cackled.

  I backed up a step and tried to keep my lunch down.

  “What the fuck!” Joel said and centered the man in his sights.

  Then something crashed down the hallway and we both froze.

  ‘Ken!” the guy screeched, and that was enough for me.

  I hit him so hard he probably didn’t even feel it, just saw a blast of light.

  A figure dashed across the hallway into the kitchen. Joel dropped and fired a few rounds.

  I dropped behind the couch and tried to pick a spot to crawl toward. The woman’s eyes settled on mine and she snarled even though she was gagged. She couldn’t have been more than eighteen years old. She wore the same shade of lipstick as the bodies outside.

  Another figure appeared in the hallway but it moved slowly. Joel didn’t stop to ask questions; he just shot the person in the chest. Then another shape appeared.

  “Out!” Joel said and rose to cover me.

  A pair of shots came from the direction of the first figure, now in the kitchen, and struck the wall. The bullets were high but they were enough to tell me that I didn’t like being shot at.

  I went flat as Joel backed up and fired a few more rounds.

  This was beyond our thirty-second battle drill. We should be hauling ass. I tried to shimmy along the floor but realized it would leave my big ass exposed and stayed low.

  “When I fire, you move. Got it?” Joel didn’t waste any time and ripped half a dozen rounds at the indistinct shape in the kitchen. Then he dropped the creeper coming up the hallway, but there was one more behind them.

  At least we hit whoever was shooting at us. The person grunted and then fell. Joel aimed in his direction but was stopped because of the fresh hell that was about to enter my living nightmare.

  The shuffler moved faster than anything alive. It didn’t even pause to check out the naked girl bent over the couch, it just came at us like a rabid dog. It snarled and sputtered with a sound that was like coughing. It ran at Joel, took a bullet to the shoulder and didn’t stop.

  The guy in the kitchen must have figured this was his chance. He peeked around the corner and for the first time I got a look at him. It was the same person I’d seen earlier wearing a ski mask.

  I dropped my wrench and tugged the big .45 out of my holster, checked the safety, raised it, and shot at the guy.

  He ducked back around the corner. His handgun came out and he emptied a magazine into the room. We tried to duck, but the shuffler was on us.

  He went for Joel with a leap that barely cleared the couch. I risked grabbing my wrench and then swung it around. I missed, but it was better than accidentally shooting Joel.

  They both crashed through the remains of the glass door and went down in a heap. Joel abandoned his assault rifle and went for his side arm but his hand was batted aside. He tried to throw a punch while getting up and was tackled. Then he was out of sight.

  I lifted the handgun and fired back at the man in black out of fear and panic. I had to rescue Joel. He was a tough and fast son of a bitch, but he was facing a shuffler all alone. I fired wildly and made for the screen door but bullets zipped over my head.

  “Ken. That’s a shuffler. Let me kill it or we’re both done.”

  Another form appeared in the shadows of the hallway.

  “I know. I brought them for you.” A man’s voice cackled. “Think you can sneak into my house? My house? I brought them.”

  Boom! The shot ripped through the space over my head.

  “For you!”

  Then he fired several more times while I hugged the floor. Made it my best friend.

  I curled up in a ball and wondered if I was going to be Z-chow in a minute.

  A grunt from the outside made me snap my head in that direction. Was Joel dead? Did the shuffler get him? I had to get out there and I had to get out there now.

  The form that had appeared in the doorway staggered toward me. Ken laughed. Monster Ken – what a perfect name for this asshole.

  The fresh Z was a large woman in her thirties. Her face was a mess of bite marks but her guts hung around her waist. I lifted the gun to shoot at her but it clicked empty. Great. I’d forgotten Joel Kelly’s rules. I rolled against the side of the couch, put my hand on the cushion to steady myself, and was almost bitten by the girl strapped there.

  Reloading was a cinch thanks to hundreds of practice runs. I silently vowed to thank my Marine friend.

  I fired four rounds in Ken’s direction while he fired back. The space between us had to be less than fifteen feet, but I was the lucky one. Ken grunted and then screamed. The Z in the hallway turned her head and moaned in his direction, then moved toward him.

  I rushed out the door, expecting the worse.


  The shuffler was on his back in the pile of the dead. He twitched, then rolled over and cackled. His hand went to his mouth while he considered me. The man’s hair hung in clumps over his forehead. His face was covered in blood and gore. His clothing was just as soaked in crimson.

  He bit off one of his fingers while he stared from milky eyes that had the oddest hint of green. It was like they glowed with some otherworldly intelligence.

  Joel staggered to his feet and for a moment I feared he’d been bitten and was already turning, but he pulled his Marine combat knife. Then he took a step toward the shuffler. Oh, I get it. This was one of those Marine things that I should stay out of. Joel was only interested in finishing the monster.

  The shuffler leapt. Sure, I could have let Joel Kelly, Marine superman take the shuffler, and with any luck Joel would come out the victor. But I’d had enough of this entire scouting mission. I swung hard and caught the shuffler in the side, changing his reality in mid leap from forward momentum to crushed bones and flailing limbs. The creature howled and fell into an awkward tangle.

  Joel advanced but I lifted the .45 and shot the son of a bitch in the head. Twice.

  Fuck that guy.

  Joel staggered into me and got an arm around my shoulder.

  “If you bite me I’m going to be really fucking disappointed, Joel Kelly.”

  “He didn’t get me. He just hit me hard enough to make me see stars. Thanks, man. I didn’t think I’d be able to take him.”

  “So what, you just judo-threw him or something?”

  “Got my gun around and cracked him upside the head. He fell back on the pile, but goddamn – that thing was fast. And strong.”

  “So this is my reward? A Marine hug. If you kiss me I’m going to hit you with my really big wrench.”

  Joel laughed and punched me in the shoulder hard enough to leave a bruise. Such a kidder, that guy.

  “I think Monster Ken is still alive in there.”

  “Yeah?”

  I grinned and went in but kept low in case Ken’d gotten lucky with the dead lady.

  The only sounds were his calls for help.