LEFT ALIVE (Zombie series Box Set): Books 1-6 of the Post-apocalyptic zombie action and adventure series

by Laszlo,Jeremy

  Looking up, I realize that Henry and Greg have been talking this entire time. I’m not sure what was said, but I’m gathering that it’s just been wild speculation on what we’re going to find when we reach Dayton. I listen to them, amused at what they’re coming up with. I’m not sure if adding to this conversation will be worth it, but finding out what they’re talking about definitely lightens my spirits. I look over at Henry who is shaking his head in frustration.

  “Of course it has to be a military instillation,” Henry cries. “Who else is going to have the funding to solve any kind of a crisis like this? They’ve got to have federal backing in order to have the equipment, technology, and personnel to solve the greatest problem we’ve ever faced. Hell, this is basically the Manhattan Project for the current era.”

  “If it were military, then wouldn’t we have heard about it?” Greg snaps back. “When the radio was still on, people were breaking into military installations all the time, trying to see what the government was actually doing to try and get us out of this shit storm, but they came up with nothing every time. I’m telling you, it was probably privately funded by some billionaire who doesn’t want to see the world completely destroyed.”

  “All the billionaires are gone, buddy-boy,” Henry chuckles to himself. “Those assholes were on their private jets to tropical islands that will never see the kind of destruction that we’ve experienced on the continents. Besides, the President issued that all federal funds and personnel capable of finding a cure to all of this be sent to stations to work out some sort of reversal to it. I’m telling you, we show up at Dayton and we’re going to be greeted by heavily armed men with the President’s yes or no being the deciding factor on if we’re killed or not.”

  “You serious?” Greg looks across the seat at Henry.

  “About what?” Henry looks across me to Greg.

  “About the island stuff,” Greg replies. “You said that the continents are the only ones affected by all of this.”

  “Well yeah,” Henry says blatantly, as if it’s super obvious. “The moment all of this shit started going down, Australia, New Zealand, Japan, and dozens of other sovereign island nations declared that their borders were closed to the influence of outside materials. They went Nazi Germany on their countries to ensure that none of the toxins made it to their homes. As far as we know, it probably worked, I mean, we’re all still breathing, aren’t we?”

  “So those people heading to Bermuda and the Bahamas might have found safety?” Greg lifts an eyebrow. I’m surprised that he’s never thought about this. Everyone was talking about Australia when all of this was going down. Greenland and Iceland were also big topics of conversation. There were others saying that north was the way to go, find the snowy tundra as a source of sanctuary from the agricultural plague. People were running, that was the main point that everyone was hitting on.

  “Nah, those places are too small,” Henry answers. “They would have been overwhelmed and probably broke out in fighting. Those places would have been a blood bath.”

  “What do you think, babe?” Greg gives me a nudge from his elbow and I look at him with apathetic eyes.

  “I think that it’s probably a mixture,” I say, yawning. “People probably started working together and gave up on the whole government and private funding thing.”

  “Jesus,” Henry says, leaning forward in his seat.

  I watch where he’s pointing and as we approach it, I can’t help but feel the same amount of shock and horror at what we’re seeing. Driving over a bridge, I look at the crest where there’s a white truck with some sort of heavy machine gun mount on the back of it. All across the road, bodies are scattered, rotting in the open sunlight since there isn’t anything to eat them. Greg comes to a stop and we look at the dead men all across the street. They were thrown from the truck. One of them is sprawled out on the hood of the truck while the others seem to have met their brutal end being scattered across the bridge. It’s a grisly and disgusting sight. But it confirms some suspicions that we all have.

  These people were killed recently and extremely violently. I think back to bullet holes all over the truck we’re now driving and looking at the mounted heavy machine gun in the back of the truck. My father had to have experienced people like this on his journey or with a heavy weapon much like this one. Whoever killed them forced them from the wreckage and into the road before executing or killing the last of them. No matter what the reason, this end was violent, but it was by people nonetheless.

  This can only mean that there are people around here. It’s not that we’re completely abandoned out here and forgotten, there are actual people roaming around somewhere and we might be able to find them. It’s just a matter of wondering how dangerous they are. As I stare at each gruesome kill, I can’t help but wonder who would do such a horrible thing. But thought brings me to the most important of my revelations so far.

  These kills were not committed by the flesh-eating horrors back at the Coast Guard’s base. They’ve not been eaten. There are other people out here and they’re vastly capable of extreme violence. At the sight of all of this, I’m not sure who I should fear more. Should I be terrified of the living and cognizant that are roaming the world, looking for food and supplies? Or should I be terrified of the mindless slaves to their hunger and whatever cause that has led them to their current state? It’s odd to think about, and I think that the best answer is that I should be afraid of all of them. Trust no one. I look at Henry, who is starting to look uncomfortable surrounded by such a scene.

  “Let’s get out of here,” I tell Greg and he nods to me.

  I’m not sure how long we’ve been driving, but as the hours pass, I think that we’ve reached Georgia. The fact that we’re leaving Florida behind makes me sad. I can’t help but think about Devon and Katrina. I wonder what they’re going to do now that it’s just the two of them having to keep up all the tasks and jobs with the beach house. Skye won’t be much for conversation, but she’s definitely going to pull her own weight. She’s always been strong like that. I’m going to miss her the most. She’s been our friend and companion through so much. I hope that whatever end she meets, it’s a good one. As the sun sets and Greg turns on the headlights, I feel like the sun is setting on our past year of safety and quiet. We’re heading into dark waters now. We’re driving into the abyss.

  I spot a soiled sign saying that we’re approaching a town named Tifton. I feel a jump in my heart at a familiar sight. Over the name Tifton is a symbol that is identical to the one that my father drew on his maps. It’s a big, black cross painted over the sign. The sight of it makes me rethink my theory on it being the marker for those he knew that died along the way. It has to be a sign of sanctuary or a way of marking the maps to show friendly places. Some towns have X’s over them and Gainesville and Atlanta have these distinct black crosses. I allow myself the chance to smile, to feel hope kindling inside of my heart at the sight of it. We’re definitely someplace safe now and I slouch in my seat. It has to mean that the town is abandoned or free of killers. The cross is a religious symbol. It has to mean that we’ve found a refuge. A sanctuary.

  Chapter Sixteen

  “It’s so loud back here,” Noah complains as we all huddle into the back of the truck. “My ears have been ringing for like hours now.”

  “No cushions whatsoever,” Lexi groans, sprawled out across one of the benches. “Your ass rattles to the bottom of everything. Doesn’t matter what you’re sitting on.”

  “That’s a little much,” Henry says, trying to wedge his way back into the group. Lexi shoots him an angry glare. He looks back at his hands, pretending that he’s done talking and that was his plan all along. The ride for the day hasn’t made me hate Henry any more than I already do, so I suppose that is something. Maybe one day I’ll learn to hate him even less.

  “Anyone hungry?” I ask, just to make sure. I feel like there’s a ton of sand sitting in my stomach and I’ve been fighting the urge to t
hrow up the entire ride north. I look at Greg, who is snacking on a box of crackers the entire time. The man has more of an appetite now than he’s actually got food to eat. I look at him through the soft glow of the lantern, wondering if he’s aware of how gluttonous that seems under the current circumstances. No one makes a move other than Greg for food and I get the feeling that we’re all still stuffed.

  “I’m exhausted,” Lexi says finally.

  “Me too,” Noah yawns.

  “Well, I think that everyone should try and fit into the cab of the truck, that way it’s easier if we need to make a hasty escape. I don’t want to have to get everyone out of the back and into the front in case of an emergency,” I say, taking up the leader role again. I’m still shaken up by the idea that wandering flesh-eaters are out there and there’s no telling what might lurk in the night. I shiver at the thought of it. This is our first night out in the wilderness. It makes me uncomfortable.

  “I call the cab,” Lexi says, now yawning thanks to Noah.

  “Me too,” Noah groans.

  “I’ll take first watch,” I chime in.

  “I’ll take the second watch,” Greg says bluntly. “Henry, you can be in the cab too.”

  “You have to drive tomorrow,” I remind Greg firmly.

  “No I don’t,” Greg smiles at the sound of my discomfort. “We have five people in our group who know how to drive. I’m sure Henry can be trusted behind the wheel tomorrow.”

  “What? Hell no, you all get the back tomorrow,” Noah says with another yawn as he stands up and stretches. He makes hand gestures that he’s driving and I shake my head at him. “We get to sit up there in luxury.”

  “Yeah, it’s real luxurious, pal,” Henry chuckles. “Alright, I’m hitting it. I’m exhausted.”

  I watch as Henry, Noah, and Lexi all clamber out of the back of the truck, stumbling toward the front while Greg and I are left in the blue glow of the military grade lantern. I reach over and shut it off. The light will give us away if we keep it on in the night and in the darkness, I can barely make out the silhouette of Greg’s face. There isn’t a moon in the sky yet and there are no stars. It is a world of haunted, inky blackness and the whole situation makes my skin crawl. There’s nothing but the sound of howling wind and dust slithering across the parched earth.

  “You okay?” Greg asks me.

  I’m not sure how to answer it. How is anyone supposed to answer that kind of a question now? I think the true horror of this world is the simple fact that ‘okay’ has an entirely different meaning than it used to. Okay was the day where I went to class, came home to take a nap, hit the gym, got a late night bite with some friends, and called it a night after some homework. That’s okay, or it was what I used to define as okay. Now, I think the fact that I have food, that I’m with people I love and care about, and that I’m still alive definitely qualifies everything as okay. I don’t like that surviving is now the standard for being okay. Heck, we’ve got food so I think that qualifies us as better than okay. From the look of my father, the ability to have food is probably going to change as we continue on.

  “I’m great,” I say to him, “all things considered.”

  “Lexi and Noah seem to be doing better,” Greg says after a moment of tense silence, looking at the window that peeks into the cab. I’m not sure why he cares, but he’s got a point. This was one of the few nights where we didn’t have to listen to them fighting before they went to bed. “I guess that’s something,” he adds with a soft chuckle, more like a quiet guffaw.

  “You should get some sleep,” I tell him softly, feeling for the hunting rifle that Henry brought. I feel my fingers on the varnished, glossy wooden stock and my fingers now reach to hold it properly. I know that Greg can’t see me. What little light there is isn’t shining on me, it’s washing over his dark features. I grip the rifle and look out the opening at the black mountains, everything differing shades of darkness.

  “I’ll keep watch with you,” Greg offers.

  “No,” I say to him firmly. “You have second watch. I need you to be rested for that.”

  “Babe, come on,” Greg offers. “We could have some alone time, just the two of us.”

  Alone time. There’s no such thing as alone time now. Every time we’re not with anyone else, it’s alone time. This entire world has dwindled to a handful of survivors and that’s about as alone as anyone can get. I don’t want to just be alone with him. I want to get to Dayton. I want to figure out what this thorn in my mind is all about and then we can tend to our relationship. Right now, being in love and having Greg next to me is a strong second place behind figuring out what’s so incredibly important in Dayton. I stand up and head for the back of the truck.

  “Babe, seriously?” Greg says in a frustrated tone.

  “Get some sleep,” I tell him kindly, not wanting to make him worry. “I’ll wake you up in a few hours.”

  “Fine,” he grumbles, defeated in his hopes of copping a feel tonight.

  My feet hit the dust and I’m continually surprised by how hard the earth is. Everything feels like it was made out of concrete here. There’s this crusty layer and then a small amount of dust before hitting the stone-like sublevel. At the beach house, everything was sand, just like it had always been. The long grasses had all withered away, but the sand still remained. There was comfort in that, but now it’s just the barren wasteland that I never dreamed of existing. I look at it with such disgust and such disappointment. How did we let it all come to this? How did everyone in the world not stop and try to figure this all out? Wouldn’t that have been the utmost priority?

  I make quiet circles around the truck. We’ve pulled off the road to a house that has been burnt to the ground. The devastation to the house appears to have happened a long time ago, leaving just a few structural beams remaining. They stand like charred, blackened spikes spearing up out of the darkened foundation. There’s a massive tree in the yard, or what would have been a yard. The tree reaches up from a thick trunk toward the sky with the branches extending outward like fingers, clawing at the sky like talons. It’s almost as if the earth is reaching up toward the heavens, trying to grab God’s hand. But God never reached back. God never helped the tree. The earth withered and it died. I make my passes around the truck, making sure that I’m far away so the crunch of my footsteps don’t bother anyone and that I’m not walking too close to the truck.

  When the moon rises, the distant mountains look like they’ve been lit on fire. At first, I thought that there was a wildfire or something strange happening on the far side of the mountains. A golden, fiery glow was swelling before I saw the first sliver of the pale moon, still keeping its vigil long after earth has died. I watch it rise into the air and smile at the familiarity of it. It’s the same moon that was there when I was a child, only now it has a perpetual orange tint to it from all of the smoke and dust in the air. I am surprised at how smoky everything is here. Maybe that’s just the world when you hit inland. In Florida, we had the ocean to puke up a rotten fishy smell, rather than the belching smoke stench.

  I notice that the truck is moving on one of my passes, probably two hours into the watch. I look at it shaking softly and I can’t help but wonder if Lexi is having a night terror. I know that she used to get them badly when we were children, but not recently. She was always a violent sleeper. Her ex-boyfriends always used to comment on that conspiratorially to me at parties. “Hey, did you ever notice how your sister sort of thrashes in her sleep? She’s giving me bruises.” Then they’d show me their bruises and I’d laugh at them. As I slowly walk toward the truck, I wonder how Noah and Henry are doing, holding up to that. I would find it absolutely annoying and smack her. I remember when she’d have night terrors in the middle of the night, I’d grab my pillow and smack her in the face with it before our father burst into the room, wrapping her up as she cried and sobbed about the bad nightmare she was having. My father was always far more tolerant with Lexi than I was. Sleep was abundan
tly valuable to me as a child.

  As I approach the truck, I look at the moon, seeing that my shadow is stretching out behind me. Good, I don’t want my shadow on the window, freaking everyone out if they’re awake. I pause for a moment before I look in through the window. Noah and Lexi could be having sex. It’s not uncommon for us lonely survivors to express ourselves physically with one another. When there’s nothing to do for vast amounts of time, having sex usually tends to help pass the time. I’m not sure I want to peek in through the window and see Noah sticking it to my sister while Henry snores softly next to them. I shudder at the thought of it, but decide that it’s worth a look anyways.

  Pushing myself up over on the step, I grab the grip bar next to the door and haul myself up to look in through the passenger’s window. Looking in through the dust-caked window, I expect to see Lexi and Noah having sex or at least Lexi thrashing around, but what I find is worse. Staring in through the window I feel the blood pounding through my veins, freezing into shards of glass as I catch my breath in my throat and my face twists to a grimace.

  I watch as Noah sleeps peacefully behind the wheel, his head leaning up against the window, oblivious to what’s happening right next to him. As he sleeps peacefully, Lexi’s head is leaning on his shoulder as she’s slanted over diagonally while Henry is right in front of me. Henry is the only one awake right now and I watch as he lifts up my sister’s sweatpants, looking at her with his hand down his pants, jerking off to the sight of my sister’s vagina. I feel repulsed. I feel like there are ants crawling all over my skin. I want to scream. I want to cry out and throw up. I look at him, defiling my sister and all I want to do is freak out and end him. I want to end him. He needs to be put down.