Z Day is Here

by Rob Fox

  A PERMUTED PRESS book

  Published at Smashwords

  ISBN (Trade Paperback): 978-1-61868-357-1

  ISBN (eBook): 978-1-61868-356-4

  Z-Day Is Here copyright © 2014

  by Rob Fox

  All Rights Reserved.

  Cover art by Dean Samed, Conzpiracy Digital Arts

  This book is a work of fiction. People, places, events, and situations are the product of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or historical events, is purely coincidental.

  No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted by any means without the written permission of the author and publisher.

  For my grandparents, who encouraged me to tell stories by the campfire.

  Table of Contents

  Day One

  Day Two

  Day Three

  Day Four

  Day Five

  Day Six

  Day Seven

  Day Eight

  Day Nine

  Day Ten

  Day Eleven

  Day Twelve

  Day Thirteen

  Day Fourteen

  Day Fifteen

  Day Sixteen

  Day Seventeen

  Day Eighteen

  Day Nineteen

  Day Twenty

  Day Twenty-One

  Day Twenty-Two

  Day Twenty-Three

  Day Twenty-Four

  Day Twenty-Five

  Day Twenty-Six

  Day Twenty-Seven

  Day Twenty-Eight

  Day Twenty-Nine

  Day Thirty

  Day Thirty-One

  Day Thirty-Two

  Day Thirty-Three

  Day Thirty-Four

  Day Thirty-Five

  Day Thirty-Six

  Day Thirty-Seven

  Day Thirty-Eight

  Day Thirty-Nine

  Day Forty

  Day Forty-One

  Day Forty-Two

  Day Forty-Three

  Day Forty-Four

  Day Forty-Five

  Day Forty-Six

  Day Forty-Seven

  Day Forty-Eight

  Day Forty-Nine

  Day Fifty

  Day Fifty-One

  Day Fifty-Two

  Day Fifty-Three

  Day Fifty-Four

  Day Fifty-Five

  Day Fifty-Six

  Day Fifty-Seven

  Day Fifty-Eight

  Day Fifty-Nine

  Day Sixty

  Day Sixty-One

  Day Sixty-Two

  Day Sixty-Three

  Day Sixty-Four

  Day Sixty-Five

  Day Sixty-Six

  Day Sixty-Seven

  Day Sixty-Eight

  Day Sixty-Nine

  Day Seventy

  Day Seventy-One

  Day Seventy-Two

  Day Seventy-Three

  Day Seventy-Four

  Day Seventy-Five

  Day Seventy-Six

  Day Seventy-Seven

  Day Seventy-Eight

  Day Seventy-Nine

  Day Eighty

  Day Eighty-One

  Day Eighty-Two

  Day Eighty-Three

  Day Eighty-Four

  Day Eighty-Five

  Day Eighty-Six

  Day Eighty-Seven

  Day Eighty-Eight

  Day Eighty-Nine

  Day Ninety

  Day Ninety-One

  Day Ninety-Two

  Day Ninety-Three

  Day Ninety-Four

  Day Ninety-Five

  Day Ninety-Six

  Day Ninety-Seven

  Day Ninety-Eight

  Day Ninety-Nine

  Day One Hundred

  Day One Hundred and One

  About the Author

  Day 1

  Scared as hell. That’s about the only way to describe how I’m feeling. It just happened so fast.

  Five days ago, the news came in that a little boy—Damon Jenkins was his name, I think—was brutally attacked while traveling in South America with his mother. As the news reported, Damon was kidnapped, beaten, and left for dead outside of some Mayan ruins. Some locals found him barely breathing and covered in bite marks. It was a circus. Every time I turned on the TV, that damn kid’s face kept popping up. It kind of made me sick. I just got tired of hearing about him. The next day, news stories came in that little Damon Jenkins had passed away. The world mourned. The press blamed it on some strange rabies strain.

  It wasn’t until the press conference announcing the actual news of his death that the world went from crying over little Damon to hating and fearing him. While the doctors spoke to the world via a live feed, a single scream could be heard from inside the hospital. I will never forget that scream. Over the PA systems and hounding reporters, I could hear a screech of horror and pain. I was sitting on my couch trying to find something, anything on TV other than that crap ... but that scream.

  Apparently, the guy doing the autopsy was attacked by a now-undead Damon Jenkins. Rabies. That’s what they kept saying. Stay calm. Contamination. Quarantine. Over the following few days, that’s all we heard. Then, no news, except for scattered rumors here and there. Death everywhere … or undead everywhere.

  That leads us up to today, August 28th. I’m hidden at my job, a nice stronghold of a building. Nothing can get in here.

  I’m writing this journal for the history books, so maybe one day, when we are all long gone, the grandchildren of the survivors will know what happened. Thank God the Internet is still up. I’ll journal on here as much as I can to update the world on the status of the uprising.

  For now, I have to go scavenge food from the break room. I hear something on the other side of the door, though. Shit! I’m starving.

  I should have stayed at home. God, I hope my fiancé is still alive. I’ll try to get to her as soon as I can. Right now, all I can think about is food. That must be how these undead bastards feel.

  Okay, it's quiet out there now. Wish me luck.

  Day 2

  Well, as you can see from this journal, I made it!

  When I walked out the door—yeah, like I just walked right out the door! More like crawled out the door like a wounded puppy scurrying away from his attacker. Anyway, I got out the "safe" area and slowly made my way down the hall. Nothing! Silence! Thank God!

  As I turned the corner, I just barely glimpsed the body of my manager. Amanda was her name. She was lying on the floor just inside her office, a huge chunk missing from her face. My thoughts went to her kids. She had two really cute kids, a boy and a girl, I think. Now all I could think about was her kids being without their mom. Hell, her kids were probably one of them freaks out there, eating the brains of their father! I knew I hated kids for a reason. Creepy little bastards.

  As I was staring at my manager’s body on the floor, watching fresh blood trickling down her thin cheek, her expression so peaceful, I heard a noise behind me. I jumped and quickly spun around. There was nothing there. It must have been the wind, I thought. I turned and looked back in the manager’s office, and to my surprise, Amanda was gone!

  There was a pool of blood where I’d last seen her five seconds ago. How could I have been so stupid?

  Movement to my left! I saw her coming at me from my left side, that slack jaw begging to taste my flesh. I didn't think; I just dove into the closest office, begging God to help me. I slipped and fell on the floor. So stupid.

  She was still coming after me. Again, I didn't have time to think, just react. I grabbed the nearest blunt object I could find. A fish bowl! I’d grabbed a fucking fish bowl! As she pounced on me, I smelled the stink of her breath as her lips brushed my neck. I coul
dn't scream. All I could do was swing the fish bowl. Bang! Right across her face.

  Now, I have hit people in the face before but never this hard and never with a fish bowl. The poor fish never had a chance. I staggered to my feet and looked down at Amanda lying on the ground, a fresh chunk taken out of her head. I could see her brain and a piece of fish sticking out the side of her skull. She moved! I grabbed a pen from the desk and shoved it in the gash, stirring her brains into mush like oatmeal. She never moved again.

  I safely made my way to the break room. It was like being in Heaven! I packed my pockets full of the sweet junk food that I’d stayed away from for so long. I gathered three Cokes in my right hand and clutched a knife I’d found in a drawer in my left. I hiked my way back to the safe room. When I got back inside—

  Wait! I hear something in here!

  Day 3

  Well, my safe room is no longer safe. I've got to be more careful. I’d propped the door to my safe room open yesterday while I was gone to get food, and three of the bastards got in and made their appearances while I was typing the journal. I heard a noise behind me, the noise they all make, kind of a low growl. It's like they are angry at the living for not being one of them.

  I turned around just in time to see two of the three trying to make my head their next meal. I jumped so far back that I knocked over the computer. Thank God they’re slow movers. They kind of hobble around, shuffling their feet one after the other, like they have nowhere to go. But in this case, they had somewhere to go: straight to the buffet that is me!

  I ran from the room and down the hall, where I passed a still-dead Amanda lying in the same spot where I left her, head still gashed open, fish still impaled on the piece of scalp.

  I looked away from the room just in time to see four more of them standing directly in my path. My only choice was to go outside. That was last place I wanted to be, out in the open. But I got to the door regardless.

  There was nothing around. My car was sitting there, looking so inviting. I sprinted to it, opened the door, sat down, closed the door, and realized I’D LEFT MY FUCKING KEYS INSIDE THE OFFICE!

  BAM! Five zombies suddenly surrounded the car, banging on the windows, that low growl getting louder and louder. It must have been a signal to them, because eight more zombies shambled up and started pounding on the car.

  I gave up. There was no need to fight. I could fight against one or two maybe, but not thirteen with more coming. My time was over. I began to wonder what it would feel like to be one of them, what it would be like to eat flesh. Would they even make me one of them? What if they destroyed my body so I couldn't come back?

  Just as I was giving up all hope, I looked out the window one last time, as if to say goodbye to the world. That was when I saw an angel. She was beautiful, with long blond hair and a very slender yet athletic build. Judging by the terror on her face, as well as the blood oozing from her arms and side, I could tell she’d been bitten. Hell, she’d been half eaten. I wasn’t sure how she’d survived, but all I knew was she was as good as dead already.

  Once the zombies got a whiff of her fresh blood, they pounced on her like lions on a downed deer. She was down within seconds. I remember watching National Geographic as a kid—and more recently Discovery Channel—and watching some tigers in Africa take down a wounded elephant, then eat it as it struggled to get away. I was now watching this again, though not in Africa and not with tigers and elephants. This time, it was with a live human girl and zombies. They ripped the flesh from her bones without even trying.

  Then I realized that this was my opening! I threw open the door and took off running, never looking back. I made my way to an old industrial building about three miles from my work. The whole way, I saw zombie after zombie. Occasionally, I spotted a person peeking out of their windows, gun in hand. They would just shake their heads no, telling me to stay away or else. I didn’t blame them at all; I’d have done the same.

  I'm not in a very safe place, but I have no choice. I’m exhausted and hungry, and I need to rest.

  I’ve got to make my way toward my house, toward my love. God, I pray she’s still alive.

  I’m going to pass out for a while, if I can manage to sleep.

  Day 4

  Sleep! Oh, glorious sleep. I haven't slept this well in days. And with a full belly, too!

  Yesterday, while I was at the industrial building, I was walking around the perimeter, securing the door and blocking the windows, feeling a little like Anne Frank must have felt, a prisoner in my own land. While doing all this, I saw a quick flash of movement in a nearby doorway. Christ! There were more in here! Looking around, I found a nice big metal pipe. If a fish bowl would knock someone down, this would surely bash their skulls in with little force.

  I readied myself, preparing for the impending attack, my stance just like a baseball player’s, ready, waiting for the pitch. But this wasn't a baseball; this was a human head. If it could even be considered human anymore. I heard it coming closer…then more footsteps. Great, I was going to have to battle more than one.

  I saw another flash of movement, just to my right! My military training taught me to go for the closest threat, so I spun around and pulled the pipe back.

  Bam! I was tackled from behind! How? How could it have moved so quickly, so silently?

  It wasn't a zombie. In fact, none of the people in the building were. I had stumbled onto a compound of four survivors. This group had done what I had: found a safe location to stay for a while.

  First there is Reggie; he’s the one that tackled me. Then there’s Eliza and her husband Mike, who run a local dog kennel. And finally, there’s Darrell, who I found out later runs a local video game shop. Once the formalities were out of the way, we sat around and talked. We talked about the zombies (of course) and about what we’d seen and experienced so far. We all had similar stories, as well as people we wanted to go home to.

  Reggie was an ex-football star who had injured his shoulder during his first pro game. He had been going to meet his girlfriend when a tractor trailer struck the SUV he was traveling in. Apparently, the tractor trailer had swerved to miss a group of people "just standing in the road".

  That was where Mike and Eliza came in. They were in a car a few vehicles behind Reggie. They’d been on their way to a dog convention when they saw a truck slam into the side of an SUV. The truck kept going, so Mike had decided to stop and see if he could help. While helping, he was attacked by one of the zombies and was bitten on his left bicep. He knew he was already as good as dead, but he wanted to spend as much time with his wife as he could before his "change." Pretty sad, really.

  Darrell was the first to find the warehouse. He’s been staying here for a few days now. He was on his way to his mom's house for the weekend when all hell broke loose. I guess running a video game store has its advantages, because he seems to know a lot about killing zombies. He said his knowledge came from video games. And critics said video games would be the downfall of us all!

  Last night was a good night. I would say probably the last good night we’ll have for a while. Mike woke up this morning with a very high fever. His arm looked like it had taken on a life of its own. It had begun twitching for no reason, and the wound looked like month-old ground beef. He isn’t going to make it much longer. Darrell has already volunteered to "bash his face in" the second he changes, though I believe he’d do it before Mike even changed. Eliza is in denial. The poor woman. I don't know how she’ll react when all this goes down, which, based on how quickly Mike is changing, could be within the next few hours.

  My day never had a chance.

  Day 5

  It has hit the fan! I don't have much time to write about it. All I can say is that I am alone again, injured, and looking for a new safe house. Before you all start getting worried, no! It is not a zombie bite. I will go into greater details in the morning. I am not feeling real good right now...must be the loss of blood.

  Day 6

  The pain!
I think my ankle is broken. The pain has had me knocked out for hours. My laptop got a good charge, though!

  So where do I begin? How can I even come close to explaining what happened? The words that my fingers are about to type will never come close to the horrors that befell me a couple of days ago. But I should...no, I have to try to explain what happened. Maybe for my own sanity or maybe out of respect for the others or maybe just to take my mind off the pain.

  Let me take you back to yesterday morning. We were all still getting to know each other. We were telling stories of our families and our work and rumors we had heard about what was going on. Darrell had a wife and two daughters, all three now dead. Reggie had a long-time girlfriend and a little boy; their status was unknown. Eliza had Mike, and he was getting worse by the second. I had Darcy, my love, my fiancé, status regretfully unknown.

  As we talked throughout the day, we were at peace for the first time in days. It was as if we were at a high school reunion, playing catch up with all our old friends. Zombies, what zombies? Zombies don't exist. But they do, and we were not long-time friends just catching up. We were the survivors of a terrible tsunami of the living dead, coming to wash away all of mankind. Every time we looked at Mike, we were reminded of this.

  Sometime late in the afternoon, Mike excused himself to go check on the barricades. Darrell volunteered to go with him while Reggie, Eliza, and I stayed behind to clean up our mess. Zombie attack or not, Eliza would not have a messy shelter!

  I'm not sure what I heard first, the gun shot or the scream. Both sounds will forever haunt me the rest of my life, no matter how short it may be.

  We all went running toward the noise. As we turned the corner, we saw Darrell, snub nose revolver still smoking and shaking in his right hand. Mike lay in the fetal position on the ground by the front door, a look of shock and disbelief forever painting on his face, along with the very large hole now replacing his eyebrow. All I could think to say was, "What the hell have you done?"