Destiny Nowhere: A Zombie Novel

by Matthew Hollis Damon

  Chapter 55: Then

  We secured the fire station more easily than anyone expected. It was very defensible, with few windows or doors, and large metal doors blocking the stairwells.

  The first thing the other guys wanted to do was drink beer, and I declined. They were already tipsy, and I couldn’t figure out why everyone I’ve met thinks drinking is a good way to handle the apocalypse. These guys were hanging out in a bar together when shit went down.

  “I’m gonna check the internet,” I told them.

  All five started mocking me as I sat down at a computer in an office near the rec room.

  “Oh Jesus--do you need to check Facebook?” Gary said.

  “Holy shit, great idea!” I exclaimed.

  I’d planned on looking at the news, trying to find out useful information about what’s going on in the world. But Facebook was not only a great source of news--I could also try to find my parents on there. Google was still live, and so was Facebook, so things couldn’t be that bad.

  I logged in, and my feed was full of gruesome zombie pictures. Real zombies in the streets, or outside windows, or attacking terrified people. A lot of friends still had their New Zombie You profile pics up, and presumably that’s actually close to what they looked like now. I had one message in my inbox and when I checked it, I saw it was from my mother.

  ‘Sam, are you okay? We love you more than anything. Please be safe and get away from this madness.’

  I replied to her: ‘Hi Mom, I’m alive and well. Are you okay? This is terrible. I’m so worried about you.’

  I waited a couple minutes, staring at the screen, waiting for the ‘read’ indicator to appear as I scrolled through my feed.

  There’s a lot of real news in the feed, and all of it is bad. New York City Completely Overrun. Reykjavik Sees First Zombie Outbreak. Mexico Hit Hard by Virus.

  This thing seemed to have spread fast. Reports in Africa and China and Australia. It looked like a global epidemic. US May Launch Nukes to Contain Virus. That was a particularly terrifying headline, but I didn’t click it because I wanted to find my family.

  I checked my dad’s feed, but the last thing posted were pictures from the 4th of July cookout they had a month ago at their home in Modesto. I clicked the ‘message’ button.

  I typed: ‘Dad, it’s me--I’m okay. Are you and Mom okay? I know you don’t check here much, but I tried phoning and the phone lines are all busy. I don’t have my cell phone, but I’m safe in a fire station.’

  I waited. No response, no ‘read’ notification from either account.

  I wrote to my gaming buddies Harris and Tom, too.

  Something about looking at my Facebook feed made this even more surreal. Facebook was dying just as the human race died, and the evidence was everywhere. Tammy Laverne, a girl I crushed on in college, posted ‘I got bit, guess I don’t have long to live. I’m freaking out :-(‘ and showed a picture of her arm wound. There were 87 comments under that post, and though I was morbidly curious what anyone had to say in response to that, I didn’t read them.

  She was about to become a fucking zombie, and she was posting about it on FB. Who does that? I couldn’t believe all the people posting bite wound selfies, and pics of zombies walking around outside their houses or offices.

  I looked up Veronica, my ex, my first and last real love.

  Her chat bubble said she was online and my heart soared. Was she really alive? Could I actually be the man who saves the girl during the zombie apocalypse?

  ‘Veronica,’ I typed. ‘It’s me, Sam. Are you there?’

  My message wasn’t read. It just sat there in limbo, waiting like the messages to my parents.

  I thought about writing to all my other Warhammer friends, but instead, I went to my home page and organized by ‘most recent.’ The first thing that came up is Nicole Moynihan, and a message that said, ‘Is anybody left? I’m so scared. Someone please help me.’ Posted 23 mins ago.

  Nicole was in my high school graduating class. She was a popular cheerleader, and I was a nobody. She added me back when Facebook started and everyone was adding their graduating classmates. We’d never said a word to each other since 11th grade, when I saw her in the hallway during class and she asked me to help her push a projector cart that had a bad wheel and wasn’t cooperating with her.

  She was so friendly that day, and I gushed and oozed and awkwarded and never got the courage to say hello again, even when we passed each other in the hallway. I felt like too much of a dork to publicly say hello to her. I loved her in that moment, and it’s the kind of love you never stop feeling.

  Even now, I felt some anxiety about writing to her. The drunk guys in the fire station were talking and laughing and I felt so alone.

  I typed: Nicole, I’m here. I’m scared too.

  I stared at my words, wanting to revise them, wanting to say something else that’s cooler, or more reassuring. Wanting to run across town and scoop her up and be the hero. I would be the hero for any girl who wanted me, that’s the short of it. But ideally, it would be a beautiful girl like this.

  And then she replied to my comment: ‘Sam! Holy shit thanks for writing back. I’m all alone. Everyone’s dead.’

  ‘I know.’

  ‘Where are you?’

  ‘I’m at a fire station.’ I paused. ‘Where are you?’ I found it funny that we were typing with proper grammar at a time like this.

  Nicole: ‘I’m at my house. In the attic with my kids.’

  Sam: ‘Did zombies get in your house?’

  Nicole: ‘No. I don’t think so.’

  Sam: ‘That’s good. The attic sucks. I started out there.’

  Nicole: ‘Where’s ur fire station?’

  Sam: ‘Camillus. Where’s ur attic?’

  Nicole: ‘I’m in Kirkville. Please help me!’

  Sam: ‘I’ll try to get over there. What’s the address? Zombies are everywhere. Stay strong, Nicole.’

  Nicole: ‘6367 Brewer Road.’

  Even though everyone else was probably dead, I felt some desperate shred of hope. Some fantasy of rescuing this girl, her falling madly in love with me. ‘Hang on, lemme Google that,’ I told her.

  It felt weird that the internet was still running, and I expected it to shut down right before I could find Nicole’s address, but it didn’t. She was on a dead-end road in the country, which was probably a great place to be. Maybe we could fortify her house and live there forever.

  Nicole: ‘Hey, Sam, are you there?’

  Sam: ‘I’m here.’

  Nicole: ‘Good news. My husband just got home! He’s safe!!!! Thank you so much for trying to help us!’

  My dreams collapsed into anonymity, because once again I was nobody with nothing to live for.

  Sam: ‘You’re welcome. Glad to help. Good luck to you and your fam.’

  Nicole: ‘Do you want to come here?’

  Nice of her to ask. ‘No, thank you,’ I replied. ‘I’m in a safe place with armed men.’

  Nicole: ‘Aww. Good luck Sam. Really sweet you were willing to leave there and come help me.’

  Sweet my ass--another nice guy finishes last!

  I stared numbly at the screen, all hopes and dreams shattered. The poker brouhaha in the next room was so loud and more stupid and useless than surfing on Facebook.

  “Hey, Sam, how’s the internet?” a voice said, and I wasn’t sure if Doyle was mocking me. He was standing in the doorway.

  “It’s crazy,” I said. “Everyone’s posting about getting bit. People I know are putting up pictures of their bite wounds. Can you believe that?”

  Doyle shook his head and made a low whistling sound. “I do believe that’s the most useless thing anyone could possibly do in a situation like this.” He grunted a laugh. “Are you okay?”

  I didn’t know how to answer. Maybe it was the first time I’d been asked to take stock of myself. “I feel dead. I’m trying to find a reason to continue, and I don’t have one. I just keep putting one fo
ot in front of the other, you know. And I’m not sure why.”

  Doyle laughed. “Oh, I know why alright.” He paused, letting my anticipation build up. “Because you got no choice. What you gonna do—put a bullet in your head? Who the fuck wants to do that, right?”

  I gave a half-hearted laugh. It was sound logic, but I was too deflated to feel happy. “Yeah.”

  “Come on--come and play some poker with us. There’s nothing much we can do for anyone now. Just gotta wait for the Army to fix this mess.” He gave me a long look, and I smiled back but shook my head and said no.

  “Well, hey, if you’re gonna stay here, why don’t you check and see if there’s any news. Some military base we can go to, or a cure or something. Any good news would be good to hear.”

  I nodded.

  Then he was out the door and back to the rec room.

  A message indicator popped up and my heart leaped, hoping Nicole’s husband was dragged out the window and torn apart. Because I didn’t belong here with these guys.

  It was from Veronica.

  ‘Sam, I’m so glad you’re alive! What are you doing?’

  My fingers flew across the keyboard. ‘Ronnie, I’m here. How are you?’

  ‘I’m okay.’ The computer said ‘Veronica is typing.’ Many seconds passed before the next message popped up. ‘I just want you to know…you were the best thing that ever happened to me. I never found anything I was looking for.’

  My heart leaped, and this was the most miraculous thing I could possibly hear. Not only did I spend four years in a tunnel of pure hell and self-loathing after Ronnie left, but to this day I never got over her. ‘Ronnie, I’ve never stopped loving you. Where are you? I will cross the whole world to find you!’

  Hilarious I went from one moment where I was willing to risk life and limb for some random girl from high school who I convinced myself I was in love with, and now I was amped up again and making the trek for my truest love ever. I guess that’s just part of being a guy.

  Her next words popped up while I was in mid-plan, figuring out how I can arm myself to the teeth and save her. ‘Sam, I got bit.’

  ‘Oh no.’ I felt dead. Veronica. She’s the only person who could’ve phased me. No one had ever cared that much about me, except she actually did. She was the real, live person who loved me, who gave me happiness. I looked at my pistols now, sitting on the desk beside me. I wanted to end it.

  Chapter 56: Now

  After Mav’s pep rally is done, the people disperse and go back to wherever they came from. I overhear a lot of happy followers who lapped up every word of his phony used-car salesman monologue.

  Some of Mav’s police force move off with the crowd, but many stay at the elevators. Doyle and I drift away from the atrium, staying with the crowd but lagging back.

  When Mav had finished his speech, he’d turned and walked away somewhere out of sight on the 4th floor. It wasn’t clear where he went, but I felt sure that he wouldn’t be down here hanging out with the rabble.

  “Doyle, I’m sure there’s fire exits leading up to the higher floors.”

  Doyle grunts and keeps walking.

  “Where are you going?”

  “Seems like we need to figure out what you want more--to find Charisse or to find Mav?”

  His question stuns me. I’d been so fixated on killing Mav that it didn’t occur to me that it was an either/or decision. Because what if Doyle and I both die? Then she’s left here as a sex slave in Mav’s twisted little city.

  “Definitely Charisse,” I say.

  “Okay, then,” Doyle says, turning around and heading back toward the center of the mall.

  “I think you should kill Mav,” I tell him. “I mean, I hate the guy, but you’re the killer. I’m just a scrawny weakling.”

  Doyle laughs. “That’s true. And you’re kind of a coward, too.”

  That stings, but I can’t argue with him. I want to defend myself, and tell him what I’ve been through, how courageous I was with Ma’Sheea, facing down an entire horde with no thought for my own safety. I’ve gotten pretty tough since this thing started, compared to who I was before, and I want him to know all of this. Instead, I say, “Where are you going?”

  “Up,” he replies.

  Only a handful of guards stand around the elevators now. We could take them. But they think Doyle is one of them, and he walks past without bothering to hold up his badge.

  A scruffy-looking guard steps out of the way of the elevator and holds his arm out, inviting us to pass. Doyle nods. The guy looks vaguely familiar, and there can only be one reason for that--he was at the Mavmart dinner! I keep my head down, trying to stay behind Doyle so this guy doesn’t recognize me.

  And, in a few moments, we step into an elevator.

  Chapter 57: Then

  Veronica and I had spent the entire next day talking. Emotional stuff. Saying goodbye. She was scared and alone and told me her health was worsening by the hour.

  Our very last conversation went like this:

  Veronica: Sam, I really did love you and…I wish things were different.

  Sam: I love you too. I’d like it to just be you and me, and just let the whole world go to hell. Run off with you to an island somewhere and eat coconuts.

  Veronica: Lol. I can just imagine you trying to climb palm trees. Do you know how high they are?

  Sam: No.

  Veronica: They’re 20 feet high. Sometimes twice that.

  Sam: It wouldn’t matter. I’d find a way.

  Veronica: I’d like that, Sam. You make me smile. So gentle and kind.

  Sam: Yeah. Nice guys, you know…we finish last.

  Veronica: You’re still alive, Sam. You can find someone in this mess and make her the happiest girl alive.

  Sam: I can’t. I’m not really the kind of guy a girl wants protecting her. The five jocks I’m here with now, that’s who the girls will go for. I’m this nerd who’s writing a history book while the zombie apocalypse is actually going on.

  Veronica: So self-deprecating. But other than that, you’re exactly what any woman wants. Give yourself a chance, Sam. You never were good at that…and now you don’t really have a choice. You have to face life, take chances, make mistakes.

  Sam: I don’t want to, Ronnie. I just wanna end it.

  Veronica: I’m gonna be honest, Sam. You never took risks, and it turned me off. You always wanted to play life safe and be in a routine. But there’s no routines left. You might as well do your best now, your very best, and if you fail, then you’ll die like everyone else. But if you don’t, you can change the world, help reshape it, teach the ones who survive how to make it something worthwhile for others to live in. Share your book with the world, to inspire people and to help them.

  Sam: Lol. Thanks, Oprah.

  Veronica: God you make me so mad. Just hiding behind your humor again.

  Sam: I’m sorry. I can’t believe we’re here talking and you’re dying. I can’t believe any of this is happening. I didn’t have much to live for before you, or after you. I don’t know. I always hoped you’d come back. uh…sorry…that didn’t come out right.

  Veronica: Lol, come back as a zombie!!! I get it.

  Sam: Sorry.

  Veronica: That was actually funny.

  Sam: K

  Veronica: Now you just have to get the take-charge-and-kick-ass part down and girls will be swarming at you more than they already are ;-) That’s some more zombie humor.

  Sam: I actually laughed out loud when I read that.

  Veronica: Keep writing your book. You’re probably the only person left alive who’s cool enough to do that. I gotta go, Sam. I can feel it coming and I don’t want to end up like those things.

  Sam: Please, just a little longer.

  Veronica: I really can’t. I have to do it now before I’m too weak.

  Sam: I love you.

  Veronica: I’ll see you in the next life, when we are both cats.

  She was quoting a film we loved. I trie
d to think of anything else to say, but it was too awful to think about. I put my head in my hands and sobbed uncontrollably.

  Then I typed: Bye, Ronnie.

  She never replied. She must’ve left her computer.

  The internet lasted a couple days after that, but I never heard back from my parents, or any of my friends.

  A couple people showed up in my Facebook feed, asking if anyone was still alive. A few of us had a group conversation, but just old acquaintances, no one close to me. Everyone had found refuge somewhere, and we debated if the military would come, or where to go from here. I didn’t even tell them about Army Dave’s crazy friend who said the military caused it on purpose. These idiots were sure it was Islamic terrorists who caused it, and there was a bunch of rah rah America dickslapping going on about payback once we gained control again. One guy suggested it was some 12 Monkeys scenario where a doomsday scientist let it loose on purpose. This seemed like the smartest hypothesis to me.

  Numerous people posted information about safe zones, but it seemed as quickly as they were posted people were commenting, “This zone is overrun—do NOT go.” So the internet was as unreliable as ever. Ditto for the Emergency Alert System, which looked like an airport bulletin board during a snowstorm. Cancelled Cancelled Cancelled.

  Then one day I woke up and the lights were still on, the computers worked, but the internet was gone.

  Chapter 58: Now

  Doyle hits the button for the fourth floor.

  “What are we doing now?” I said “Charisse first?”

  Doyle looks at me. “I’ve been collecting intelligence for weeks on this place, and I’m pretty sure your girl is up there.” His eyes bore into mine. “Sam, are you ready for what’s coming next? This isn’t going to be easy. If you’re thinking of backing out of this, now is the time. Otherwise, we may have to fight our way out of this mall, through all of these armed guards.”