Dead Strain

by Giesler, W. A.

  DEAD STRAIN

  By

  W. A. Giesler

  Copyright 2014 by William A. Giesler, Jr.

  Published by Sarah Book Publishing

  (A subsidiary of Litewill Holdings, LLC)

  www.sarahbookpublishing.com

  2216 Camelot Plaza Circle, Harlingen, TX 78550

  ISBN: 978-1-61456-298-6

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system or transmitted, in any form, or by any means, electronic, mechanical, recorded, photocopied, or otherwise, without the prior written permission of both the copyright owner and the above-mentioned publisher of this book, except by a reviewer who may quote brief passages in a review.

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  First Edition: May 2015

  Book Cover Design: Digital Print Shoppe

  www.digiprintshoppe.com

  Printed in the United States of America

  DEAD STRAIN

  CHAPTER 1 – FIRST SIGN

  Connor Myer stood at the wall gazing out upon the wide-open field before him trying desperately to remember the days before the world went awry. Raising his rifle, he peered through the scope, taking careful aim on the figure stumbling toward the fence line. "Sorry buddy, but you are just not welcome around here," he mumbled as he began to put pressure on the trigger. The zombies had been fewer of late, dying off he hoped, but he had a feeling they were just elsewhere looking for the living flesh they desired. Placing the crosshairs directly on the forehead of the male, he pulled the trigger and watched as the sniper round found its target sending a spray of blood and brain matter out the back of its head before the creature slumped to the ground.

  How did this all start? Is the entire world like this? How would they survive if they were the only ones left alive? These were only a few of the questions he had, but there was no way of knowing the answers. All the news stations had gone silent, and so far there were little to no radio transmissions, so news was hard to come by. Staring down at the motionless body just outside the fence, he thought about all his friends and family, and he prayed that they had all come through this unscathed, but from what he had seen in the last few days, it was unlikely.

  "How's it looking out there today?" a voice from behind him asked.

  Turning, Connor saw Sheriff Hobart walking up to the edge of the wall, gazing down upon the field that spread out before them. "Not too bad just one so far. It's kind of like they moved on or are dying off."

  "Let us hope you are right," he said with a chuckle. "Damn things are trouble."

  Connor did not see the humor in killing the zombies knowing that they had once been people, just living their lives trying to get by, before the world went to hell. Scanning the open field, he spotted another one of the creatures walking slowly toward the fence line. "There is another one." Raising his rifle, he peered through the high-powered scope, hesitating when he saw the young female stumbling across the uneven ground. This one, a girl of no more than twelve, covered in blood with a bloody stump where her left arm used to be, gazed up at him as she moved closer.

  "Come on, kid, drop that thing; it's getting too close to the fence," Sheriff Hobart said as he raised his rifle.

  "She can't be more than twelve years old," he told Hobart. Looking at the blank stare on the girl he asked, "Do you ever wonder if there is anything left of the person they used to be?"

  "There is nothing left inside that shell, and she will never be thirteen, so shoot it." Looking at the young man next to him, "Connor, you have to remember those things are already dead. When you shoot one of them, it is like releasing the body from a life as one of those things. You are doing them a favor."

  Closing his eyes, he listened to Hobart and knew he was right, but still, it was hard to do, especially with one this young. "Alright, I understand what you are saying, but I still don't like it." Taking a deep breath, Connor centered the crosshairs on her forehead and pulled the trigger. As usual, his aim was true and the bullet ripped into the head of the zombie taking the upper portion of it off sending the creature falling to the ground, releasing it from its hell.

  "Good shot, kid. You're getting pretty good with that thing."

  "Thanks, I just wish it was something other than people I was shooting at," Connor told him as he continued to look out over the field.

  Hobart had to agree with him, except these things were no longer people as far as he was concerned. They were dead and an enemy to them all, a problem that needed eliminating. "Look, kid, you have to stop thinking of them like that. They are mindless killers, and if you don't shoot them, they will try to get in here and make a meal out of us all."

  Connor knew he was right but still did not like doing it. Protecting them all was the most important thing for him, and if it meant killing these people, or former people, then that is what he needed to do and had to deal with it. "Thanks, Sheriff, I will keep that in mind," he said keeping his eyes on the now empty field.

  "Alright, Connor, keep up the good work. If you need me, use the radio; I am heading down. Make sure we are all loaded up." As he started down the steps, he turned back to the young man, "We will be heading out in a few hours so you might want to get some sleep before we go."

  "Okay, Sheriff, will do," he replied, turning to watch the man who had saved him and his brother from the initial onslaught of the dead head down the steps before turning his attention back to the field. He thought back to the day that he and Jameson had taken the trip into the city in search of some supplies they needed for the project they had planned to do for their father, a gift for his upcoming birthday.

  ***

  The drive into the city was going to take the two boys a few hours, as they traveled from their rural farm the hundred plus miles. Planning on driving straight through to the store and then right back after loading up with what they needed, Jameson loaded a cooler with cold drinks and some food so they wouldn't have to stop along the way.

  Connor climbed into the driver seat of the old pickup truck, slamming the door shut a few times before it finally latched. He impatiently waited for his younger brother to drag himself out of the house. Jameson had never been a morning person, but today's delay was due to the cooler he was filling for the trip, so Connor cut him a break, this time. Reaching over he grabbed the window handle and cranked it down preparing to yell for his brother but stopped when he saw him emerge from the front door.

  "I'm coming; relax, brother," Jameson called out to Connor seeing the anxious expression on his face. Walking up to the truck, he grabbed the handle, struggling to get the old door to release. Annoyed, he gave it one last hard yank, and it popped open, finally allowing him to climb into his seat.

  "About time, we were supposed to leave ten minutes ago. You know I want to get back before lunch," Connor scolded his brother.

  "I know, but I thought we would need something to snack on during the trip."

  Connor had to agree. Jameson had actually used his head on this one instead of doing the usual moaning along the way that he was thirsty and hungry. Nodding to his brother, he acknowledged the good idea then reached down and started the engine. After a few tries, the old engine roared to life, blowing out a plume of grey smoke from the exhaust pipe. "Old reliable comes to life," Connor laughed, "could be closing on time to get a new truck."

  "Yeah, this thing has lasted a while."

  The transmission groaned as Connor put it in drive and started down the long dirt driveway. The pickup turned out onto the p
aved roadway and started for the interstate a few miles away. As they sped along, the two casually talked about their week in school: Connor talking about his first semester at college while Jameson passed along the happenings about his senior year in high school. The brothers had always been close, comparing notes about teachers, classes, sports, and of course, the girls.

  Connor had been the big football star for his high school team while Jameson struggled to make it as his back up but eventually inherited the position after Connor left for college. With both of them heavily into sports, they kept in top physical condition, which aided them with their daily chores on the family farm.

  Cruising down the roadway, Connor saw the sign announcing the approaching highway entrance ramp, so he began to slow. As he approached the on ramp, he saw a vehicle nosed into the ditch that ran along the side of the entrance ramp. Looking over at his brother, "We should check to see if they need some help," he said, motioning to the car.

  Jameson had not been paying attention to anything outside the truck but now noticed the small car and was able to make out at least one person inside it. "I think I see someone inside, and they don't appear to be moving so we best check on them," he replied as he threw himself against the door to pop it open. The door released and quickly swung open allowing him to hop out and sprint down the small embankment quickly approaching the vehicle.

  "Jameson, hold on," Connor called out to his brother as he climbed out of the truck and started for the car that Jameson was already walking up to. Moving up to the edge of the road, he looked down as Jameson approached the open driver side window. "Are they alright?" he asked.

  Stopping at the open window, Jameson slowly looked inside seeing a young female slumped against the steering wheel, unmoving. Reaching in, he touched the shoulder of the woman and quickly jumped back when her head swung around, and she let out a loud scream.

  "What the hell are you doing?" she yelled.

  "I...I'm sorry, ma'am, I was just checking to see if you were okay," Jameson told her as he tried to relax after the young woman scared the life out of him.

  Reaching up, the young woman, who appeared to be in her late teens or early twenties, felt a bump on her forehead. "Damn, does it look bad?" she asked, rubbing the rising lump.

  Moving in close once again, Jameson looked at the lump forming on her forehead and then shook his head. "No, it looks fine," he told her, not wanting to upset her. Reaching down, he grabbed the door handle and tried to open the door. "It's stuck," he told her. Waving up to his brother, "The door is jammed; I could use some help."

  Connor stepped down the embankment and up to the car. Grabbing the handle, the two pulled as hard as they could until the door finally gave way, swinging open and depositing both boys on their backsides.

  Jumping to his feet, Jameson stepped up to the open door, "Can I help you out of the car?" he asked, extending his hand for her to grab.

  "Yeah, thanks," she replied, grabbing his hand and slowly stepping out of the car. As she stood up, the world around her began to spin, and the bump on her head began to throb. Leaning back against her car, she grabbed her head, "Wow, my head is spinning."

  Connor climbed to his feet and quickly recognized the young woman, "Sara?"

  "Yeah, that's my name," she said, looking up at the young man who had called her name. Seeing his face, she instantly knew who he was. Heck, everyone at college knew who he was. "Connor Myer, our star quarterback, thanks for coming to my rescue."

  "Well, it was more than me," he said, motioning toward his brother. "That's my brother Jameson. He did most of the rescue work."

  Nodding her aching head, she looked at both of them and then to her now damaged car. "Crap, I can't believe it; I just bought this."

  "There isn't much damage, shouldn't be too expensive to fix," Jameson said as he moved around the car. "So what happened?"

  "There was something in the roadway when I turned the corner, and I swerved to miss it." Looking around the roadway, she searched for the animal, or person that had blocked her way, but found nothing. "Did you guys see anything in the road when you pulled up?"

  "No, sorry, there wasn't anyone or anything around," Connor told her as he approached the car. "Let me take a look at your head; it's swelling up a bit," he said as he moved close to her. He could see the lump was growing and the dark bruise forming. "Let's get some ice on that." Before he had a chance to say anything to Jameson, he was already sprinting up the rise and moving to the truck to grab some ice from the cooler they had with them.

  Connor helped Sara up the embankment, stopping at the top as Jameson met them carrying a rag with ice in it. Taking the rag, Sara placed it against the growing lump, relishing in the relief that it provided to the throbbing wound. As the trio was standing on the side of the roadway, none of them noticed the single human figure that appeared at the top of the highway ramp until it let out a scream, which instantly drew their attention.

  "What the hell," Connor said as he turned to see what had made the noise. Looking up the ramp, he could see the male standing motionless, staring down at them. He could easily see that something was not right about this person. Hunched over a bit and twitching, it eerily stared down at them.

  "He doesn't look right, and that scream he let out has me frightened," Sara said as she moved toward their truck. "Can you guys give me a ride? I don't live far from here, and I can get my dad to drive me back out here to pick up my car."

  "Yeah, sure," Connor replied, walking around to the driver side of his truck. "Come on get it, I think that guy is coming this way, and something definitely isn't right about him."

  Sara kept her eyes on the approaching man and could see the odd look on his face as he picked up speed. Now sprinting down the ramp, he continued to emit the eerie screams as he approached. Jumping into the truck, she looked back as Jameson got in, slamming the door behind him just as Connor started the truck and began to back away from the approaching man.

  They all got a much better look at the man as he quickly caught up to the truck crashing into the front end with no regard to possible injury, and the sight was unbelievable. The face of the man was pale; the eyes were completely white, and the gruesome part was the pieces of flesh hanging out of his mouth, caught between his bloodstained teeth. Letting out another scream he tried to make his way around the side of the truck, but before he could, Connor slammed down the gas pedal backing away at a high rate of speed causing the screaming man to fall to the ground.

  "Hurry, he is getting up!" Sara screamed. Popping up from the ground, he let out another of his blood curdling screams and resumed his pursuit of the truck.

  Connor watched as the man climbed to his feet and resumed his run toward the truck. The fall had given him enough time to spin the truck around, slam it into drive and quickly race down the road, leaving the man in their dust.

  "Did you see that guy's face?" Sara screamed. "What was wrong with him?"

  Connor had no idea but was not about to admit that to her. He was more concerned with getting away from that freak as quickly as he could. Looking into his rear view mirror, he could see the man in the distance, who had apparently ceased his pursuit of their truck, as he was now standing in the middle of the road, staring in their direction. Slowing down, he pulled off to the side of the road and pulled to a stop. "Are you two alright?" he asked as he looked into the mirror once again.

  Jameson nodded to him, along with Sara, but he could easily tell that they were both spooked.

  Opening the door, Connor stepped out of the truck making sure to check on the status of their friend down the road before moving away from the door.

  "Hey, where the hell are you going?" Sara asked.

  Looking back in at her, "Relax, honey, I just want to grab something out of the bed of the truck," he told her, continuing toward the back of the truck. Stopping at the rear gate, he reached in and pulled a tarp away from a box he had in the back. Lifting it out of the bed he looked back down the road, check
ing on their friend once again, who was still standing in the same spot. Flipping the latch on the front of the box he opened it up revealing two 9mm handguns, along with several loaded magazines. Pulling out the guns, he loaded them both and then grabbed the remaining magazines, placing them in his pockets.

  "Hey, what's with the guns?" Sara asked.

  Connor jumped when she asked him, not being prepared for the interruption but quickly regained his composure. "Get back in the truck," he told her, seeing her standing just outside the driver side door. Shaking his head at her, he was annoyed that she had caught him off guard. "We may need these for protection. That thing," he said pointing down the roadway, "has me worried. I have never seen anything like that before."

  "Same here – that guy freaked…" she stopped talking when she saw the man sprinting toward them once again, but this time, he was not alone.

  He saw the look on her face and instantly knew something bad was about to happen. Spinning around, he saw what had her so frightened; the man and a pair of females were now sprinting their way. "Get back in the truck, now!" Turning, he ran back to the door and jumped into the seat, thankful that he had not shut off the engine. Once again, he slammed the truck into drive and floored the gas pedal, sending gravel and dust in the direction of the oncoming menace.

  "What the hell are those things?" Jameson yelled. Staring back at the people, he recognized one of the women and fear shot through him. "Oh my God! Connor, it's Tonya Morris or at least I think it is." He and Tonya had grown up together and had always been close friends until recently when Jameson had told her about the feelings he had for her, but she did not feel the same way.

  Connor looked in the rear view mirror and was able to see the former friend of his brother. "I'm sorry, Jameson, I know you two were close," he said as he gained speed, leaving their pursuers in their dust.

  "You knew one of those people?" Sara asked not even trying to hide the growing panic in her voice.

  Jameson nodded to her but said nothing as he stared back at Tonya in disbelief.