All Things Zombie: Chronology of the Apocalypse

by Various Authors

  Jim tied one end of the garden hose to the dock and the other to the rail of the boat and pushed backwards and watched as the current pulled them slowly outward toward the other boats on the bay. Small figures grew larger as the boat grew closer and Jen thought she could make out people waving.

  Jen didn’t know how long they would have to float around out on the bay, but she did know they were safe, for now. The small little boat had two lower sleeping quarters and comfy sitting areas up on deck. She had decided to let the guys sleep below deck tonight and she sat looking up the peaceful sky that contradicted the world underneath. Luna, still wet and angry from his unexpected bath, sat next to Jen licking at his fur. She thought of her assistant and friend Sabrina and prayed she was ok...even though in her heart she already knew she wasn’t. As she felt sleep pulling at her she decided to pop quietly downstairs and check on Mikey. Poor kid had been through so much in the past twenty four hours and he was trying so hard to be a grown up, but in truth he was only a child.

  Jen saw Mikey curled up on the bed; even in sleep he looked troubled. She approached him and picked up the blanket he had kicked onto the floor and pulled it over his legs. She happened to notice that beads of sweat shimmered on Mikey's forehead. Mikey yawned and turned over causing his t-shirt to lift slightly up over his midriff.

  Jen blanched. On Mikey's lower back was a large purple bruise surrounding a small angry looking bite wound. Jen leaned against the wall in the small bedroom and allowed a sea of tears to roll down her face, wondering what to do... wondering if she was safe....

  She just allowed herself to feel the overwhelming grief that washed over her body like waves in an ocean.

  Suzanne Olsen-Casey

  Suzanne has a degree in Human services and currently works as a program manager in a residential group home that provides care for individuals with developmental delays. She is mom to 3 amazing children and various furry and feathered friends. Suzanne is from a multi-cultural family and spent most of her childhood in England and other parts of Europe.

  The Monitor

  By Jamal Luckett

  Franklin switched off the news stream he was watching play inside the right lens of his computerized eyeglasses. It didn’t bother him much, the newscaster had been prattling on about some rioting somewhere or another. A familiar sense of dread begins to swirl around the diminutive man’s gut. Franklin loathed chatting with the fat sloppy guard who greeted him every morning. Bob was the type of person who made up nicknames for everyone. In addition, Bob used overtly stereotypical “my brother” references due to Franklin being African American. He could see the man in his food stained purple polyester uniform smiling broadly. The human glacier of a man sat upon a metal stool before a row of security gates. It is not that Franklin did not like Bob. He was clearly a nice enough person. Bob’s insistence on calling him “Frank” every day for the past eight years was an annoyance. Franklin simply preferred technology and more intellectual pursuits he had since childhood.

  “Heeeey Frank my brother!” Bob bellowed, his voice carrying with a hint of a mafia wise guy. There is genuine cheer evident in Bob’s voice. “Good Morning Robert.” Franklin responds curtly. After pulling his lunch cooler up over his shoulder Franklin produces his ID badge. It dangles in front of a sensor on the security gate. The device buzzes and flashes a steady green light. The security gates open and Franklin moves through with a sigh. “Have a great day my brother.” Bob shouts. “Uh… same to you Robert.” Franklin retorts without looking back, his voice tinged with hesitation. Ahead of him is a long sterile hallway with recessed metal doors every few feet. “Heeeey Barbra my sister.” Franklin hears Bob’s jovial voice call out as he walks briskly away. He looks up above the archway just before entering the hallway. He sees the company’s purple logo emblazoned on the wall overhead. “Global Universal Cellular.” Franklin pauses to read the stock market ticker. The numbers scroll seamlessly by “Shares are up again.” He ponders. Clearing his throat “digital memo,” he speaks aloud walking down the hall. “Check retirement savings plan today.” A soft female voice answers on his earpiece “digital memo recorded, reminder set Mr. Wells.” He positively loved working for the world’s largest wireless company. He was always able to get the latest tech at almost no cost.

  “Digital Security Constable F W one zero two eight,” Franklin says as he nears the middle of the long hall. A door sides open to his right. He enters feeling a whoosh of air as the door closes behind him. Now he stands in a dimly lit windowless room. The office was equivalent of a corporate prison cell. “Monitor on,” he speaks into the darkness. The light improves slightly as computers behind the monitor come to life. The room fills with the sound of dozens of tiny computer fans like a high-tech symphony. Franklin breathes in deeply. He is relieved to be alone. Interacting with others outside of his preferred comfort zone unnerved Franklin. It was like someone attempting to get an introvert to cut loose at a party. Always a small child, he had zero athletic ability. People looked at his size. They wouldn’t even give him the obligatory “you must have played basketball” that every other black guy in college got. He picked out intellectual pursuits where the size of one’s brain was all that mattered. Franklin’s path landed him his dream job at GUC. The fact that he had no social life or real friends to him was a plus. Franklin took pride in his reclusive nature. A massive monitor flickers to life before him. The monitor does not sit on a desk; a more accurate description would be a console. From here, Franklin Wells monitored his five Global Universal Cellular stores every move. He monitored the stores from before they opened until after they closed. His position appealed to the voyeur in him. Franklin was the type of guy who didn’t like to be among people but loved to watch them. Moreover, he controlled the security systems in each from where he sat. Franklin moved toward a small refrigerator in the corner next to his personal restroom. He opened the pristine appliance placing his lunch inside. The fridge was the one luxury, allowed himself. If a person were to check Franklin’s office for signs of occupancy, they would assume the office had been unused for months.

  Sitting at his desk admiring his workstation with pride as each store’s video feed came online. Whichever store he choose to highlight would appear in the center of the massive monitor. Each of the remaining store feeds would be place in one other monitor’s four corners. The first feed to appear was from a store situated in beautiful downtown Chicago. With the store’s surveillance cameras, Franklin could look out from the Chicago River to the lakefront. He loved the view of the city. “Downtown location main feed.” Franklin says stifling a yawn. Next up, the Lincoln Park and Oak Park stores, came up, then locations at Eastern Chicago University and lastly the store located at City Hall. Franklin leaned back in his chair ready to begin his day. “Start recording ….” Franklin says, looking at his watch, it is just before eight am. “Now,” he commands. Almost simultaneously employees begin showing up at the designated entrances to each store. He watches the employees go through opening each store. He knows most of their names having studied each one’s employee file. Franklin Wells knew them but they would never know him. It gave him more power over them than they would ever know. He preferred to avoid confrontation as he stood just over five foot two. Franklin used his reports to make up for his short stature. At last count, he had been responsible for the termination of thirty-two employees in eight years. In addition, he was responsible for the apprehension of six would be armed robbers, one hundred eight thieves; fourteen sticky fingered janitors and reported eleven cases of assault against GUC employees. He was good at his job, a fact that Franklin was particularly proud.

  The various employees on screen went about getting ready for the day to begin. Franklin spots a homeless man lying in the alleyway a several feet away from his Downtown store. Homeless people were a huge concern for him. They would harass both employee and customer alike. “Mark homeless man outside main entrance of Downtown location.” He spoke into the darkened office. “Nota
tion made Downtown location.” A computerized voice responds softly. Franklin watches the man intently preparing for his next move, which would be to phone the police if needed. A precursory scan shows the remaining stores opening without a hitch. Franklin reclines in his chair keeping a distrusting eye on the homeless man. “Oak Park main feed.” He orders turning back to his regular routine. The stores downtown tended to be less busy first thing in the morning. Oak Park however was five miles from downtown Chicago situated in a small suburban area. Watching from multiple vantage points throughout the store Franklin nods approvingly. This manager was thorough and ran a tight ship. By nine am Franklin could see the security shutters had been disengaged and the front door unlocked. The employees all dressed in their purple shirts and beige slacks stood around a tablet on the wall. They appeared to be watching something. “Mark Oak Park store, no one is watching the front door.” Franklin stated with a hint of disapproval in his voice. He was about to add more when a shrill alarm on screen snapped him to.

  Franklin’s head whips about like a malfunctioning sprinkler. He finds the source of the alarms. “City Hall location mark and main screen” he shouts. The location is underneath Chicago’s City Hall in a shopping concourse. A thick white shroud of smoke blankets it. “City Hall store floorplan” he barks. His request is granted immediately and the blinking diagram overlays the screen. He is limited as this location is in a building that GUC does not own and there are only two cameras. One camera shows the front door and store’s interior. The second covers the cramped rear space of the store. Franklin sees every fire and smoke sensor in the store is active. He can make out vague shapes moving through the dense smoke. The smoke grows from white to grey to black like a storm rolling in on a summer’s day. “Dial Nine One One” He calls to the monitor. In the upper middle portion of the screen a telephone icon appears. A telephone busy signal echoes clearly across the room from the expensive speakers embedded in the Monitor. It continues causing Franklin to pause. He stares in utter amazement, “a busy signal” he whispers. “End call,” he instructs mildly perturbed. His guess is the switchboard is probably jammed. “There is no way they don’t know City Hall is on fire.” He thinks to himself. Just as he is about to run an “Incident Log” Franklin is distracted by movement outside the Downtown location.

  The homeless man once laying at the mouth of the alleyway appears to be moving for the store’s main entrance. “Downtown main screen,” the monitor obeys his voice command without pause. Franklin is confused by the sight on the screen. Upon closer inspection, the man does not appear to be homeless. What he thought to be a vagrant is instead a tall well-built man, that wore a filthy yet expensive blue looking suit. Swaying back and forth with his head down like a drunk on the unsteady deck of a cruise ship in a bad storm. His head lowered with his chin almost touching his chest. This only gives Franklin a view of matted dirty blond hair. “Did someone mug you my friend?” Franklin asks himself whimsically. The man lurches forward as a jogger passes by. The tall-disheveled man appears dazed as he reaches in vain for the runner. The jogger easily avoids his grasping hands and picks up speed sprinting off camera. The one thing Franklin Wells hated the most about living in the city was the lack of compassion. He knew each bumbling step drew the man closer to the entrance of the store. “The GUC employees inside will get this man some help,” Franklin thought and nodded with a sense of satisfaction. “Main screen record,” he offers staring intently at the screen. Performing a quick scan of the store Franklin can see three employees on the sales floor. One is the manager, a short stumpy woman who is nearly as round as she is tall. There is a young girl wiping down the wireless phones on display. A lanky middle-aged black man is looking down at something on his computer screen laughing enthusiastically. There are two more employees in the inventory room at the rear of the store. The injured man drags himself methodically along the storefront. He is now visible to those inside. The man stumbles as he pulls himself along smearing fluids across the large window covering the front of the store. The occupants at the front of the store all raise their heads in unison. Franklin gasps as the man falls into the front door pushing it open and stumbling inside. “Was ...that blood?” Franklin stammers as if caught in the murkiness of a waking dream.

  Franklin watches in high definition as gravity pulls the big man clumsily into the store. The manager reacts moving far faster than Franklin imagined possible. She reaches for the man who falls flat on top of her. The portly woman appears to struggle under the man’s weight. The young girl with her long brown hair pinned back reaches the pair first. As the girl kneels down a geyser of red fluid paints her face and torso. Driven back, the girl looks to be screaming hysterically. She furiously scoots backwards away from the carnage in the middle of the sales floor. The girl points at the injured man writhing atop her manager. Franklin stands knocking his chair backwards. It rolls quietly several feet away before stopping. On the grey-carpeted floor under the manager, he sees a widening pool of red spreading outward, slowly from the man whom Franklin had assumed was the victim of a mugging. The deranged man rears up a pinkish chunk of something dangling from his mouth. From nowhere the black man who had been absorbed in his computer earlier appears. Cocking his arms back and smashing a display of this year’s must have cell phone into the unruly man’s face. The blow rolls the attacker off the woman. As the black man steps over his manager, the man on the ground slowly begins to stand. He looks unfazed after being bludgeoned by the GUC employee. Shell-shocked, Franklin’s mind stiches the events of the past few minutes together like a mental quilt. Lying on the floor staring up at the camera the plump woman is now missing most of her throat. “My …god,” Franklin Wells stutters. The black man on screen presses his attack on the stranger. Meanwhile, he young girl had somewhat recovered. She has scuttled back over to the wounded woman lying twitching on the floor. Even from here, Franklin can see the moment life exits her body. He thinks about the woman’s soul escaping through the hole in her mangled throat. Her life force departing the same way a person does when leaving home. It switches off the light in her eyes as it goes. Her empty eyes pierce the void between their reality and the camera locking on to him. In the background of the picture, the black man holds the display in a threatening manner while looking over his shoulder.

  Franklin steps up to the console grasping a joystick embedded into the corner his desk. He zooms in on the strange man who attacked his fellow GUC employees. The man twists and turns awkwardly coming to his feet. The black man continues to hold the display over his head. Franklin can see the black man is yelling something at the man who shows no signs of stopping. As his attacker lunges for him, the man steps back unleashing a devastating blow. He catches the big man across his right side. Franklin watches the man in the bloody suit fly sideways landing at an odd angle on top of a display counter. “What the hell?” Franklin squeaks, leaning even closer to the giant monitor. He removes his glasses to scrutinize the scene behind the two men. Two forms are moving in the background of the video. The manager he believed now crouches over the girl who’d come to her aid. She appears to be giving the girl mouth to mouth. Franklin can see the woman’s head bobbing up and down. As she pulls pieces of flesh free from the wailing girl, she has pinned to the floor. The young girl stops moving as her former manager continues to consume her flesh. The black man comes back into the frame as he grabs his boss by the shoulder. The woman whirls on him with empty dead white eyes. She seems to snarl and with lightning quick reflexes, she latches on the man’s ring and pinky fingers. She yanks back severing the digits with her mouth. Franklin swears he can hear the man howl in agony. The black man backs away oblivious to his surroundings. The poor man on screen clutches his ruined hand lost in a fog of agony. He tumbles into the arms of the man in the tattered suit. The rabid man embraces his prey. Franklin’s hands go to his mouth as he watches the man who started this butchery. He briefly catches a glimpse of the man’s face for the first time. His eyes are a gelatinous
milky white like that of a dead fish. The man’s chin is coated with congealed blood. He buries his teeth into the soft flesh of the black man’s neck. The pair collapses to the floor in a fatal embrace. Shuffling into the frame is the manager. She drops down and tears into the squirming man’s midsection pulling intestines through torn flesh and fabric to her waiting mouth. Franklin can see the store’s last two employees huddled in the locked inventory room. They are watching a wall mounted security monitor. Undoubtedly terrified by the horror that has befallen their teammates. The last to join the feast on the floor is the young female GUC employee, half of her face obscured by blood-knotted brown hair. The other side of her face stripped of flesh down to the skull.

  “Call Nine One One!” Franklin Wells cries frantically over a dozen times. It is not until he has to cover his ears from the concerto of busy signals filling the room, that Franklin becomes aware the monitor has obeyed his commands. It has dialed a dozen separate calls to emergency services. “End all calls ….” he shouts. “End all calls now.” He repeats placing his glasses back on his face. The Digital Security Constable casts an agitated glance upwards. Franklin’s eyes fall on the video feeds from the Lincoln Park store. Initially he believes he’s watching a playback of the stores Black Friday sale. A mob of people relentlessly presses into the store. They trample about with no regard for their own safety. “Lincoln Park main screen,” comes his familiar request. Once the store’s main feed is up on the center screen, Franklin can see the throngs of shoppers all have those lifeless dead fish eyes. The hordes of mangled bodies push in to the store further. They are all converging on one door that leads to the sales floor at the rear of the store. In one small quadrant, he can see why. There ae four GUC employees fighting desperately to keep the door closed. The two women and two men each lean against the door. Franklin observes these people as they struggle against those who ferociously assault the door. The throng beat their hands and fists against the wood and metal seemingly with no concern for any pain. The bigger of the two men is a burly tattooed man. He has the appearance of a biker except he’s wearing a purple polo shirt and khakis. He is motioning for the other man and the women to do something, but what Franklin cannot tell. And then Franklin’s mind connects the dots for him. The beefy man is telling them to run into the inventory room. This is a great idea Franklin thinks, as the inventory room is also the store’s designated storm shelter.