All Things Zombie: Chronology of the Apocalypse

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All Things Zombie: Chronology of the Apocalypse Page 16

by Various Authors


  “I’ve got to sit down. That was almost too much,” Oz told Dalton. “You know that I can’t handle people throwing up. I can’t even stand the sound, especially that retching and dry heaving.” He shivered and held his stomach.

  “Alright, stop talking about it then before you make me sick,” Dalton shook his head.

  As the two sat down at a table next to a faux fireplace, someone bellowed out for the manager to lock the doors. “Don’t let any of those fucking zombie birds in here. They might start attacking humans.”

  Dalton raised his eyebrows.

  “Told you they were zombies.” Oz smiled.

  The great swarm of birds streamed around the building in an undead, moving wall. Every so often a zombie bird would spin out of control and tumble into the glass head first and never rise again. Often a stream would split off, crash upon, and devour the fallen comrade. These were a hateful dead flock. Woe upon the random living bird that decided to join the fray.

  “A bird-nado,” someone laughed. “A zombie bird-nado.”

  A couple O’Chicken employees carried the blood and bile drenched woman towards the restroom to clean up. Flashes from at least a dozen camera phones followed her like she was the red carpet. Those flashes further erupted as she kicked and struggled into a meltdown after hearing the words zombie bird.

  “I’ve got there blood all over me. I’m not going to turn into a zombie am I?” she cried out and grabbed ahold of a cashier. The young girl shoved and slapped her away.

  “Everyone calm down! I’ve called the police. Animal control should be here any minute now,” the manager screamed over the commotion.

  The rest was lost to Oz as Dalton squeezed his hand.

  “C’mon now, you know how I feel about pda,” he mumbled before noticing Dalton rubbing his eyes. “What’s wrong? You can talk to me.”

  The man pushed his glasses back into place. His red eyes focused on Oz. “Well, I… I ate that O’Chicken bite,” he said and wiped his nose. “What if that woman’s right? I don’t want to turn into a zombie.”

  “I think if it was going to happen you would have already turned. Just don’t go off choking to death on me,” Oz laughed.

  “I’m really scared. I’m not ready to die. I really should have listened to you,” Dalton whispered. “I’m sorry.”

  “Hey, it’ll be okay. We don’t know that the O’Chicken bites caused this. That bird could have been sick.”

  Oz patted his partner’s hand and hoped that Dalton didn’t notice that his own was trembling.

  “I’m sorry sirs, but I can’t allow that kind of behavior in here,” Renaldo interrupted as he slid into a stool at their table. “O’Chicken is a family friendly environment, and as you probably know, company policy doesn’t allow employment, franchising, or service to same sex couples.”

  “What the fuck does that have to do with anything?” Oz felt heat flush through his face. Dalton squeezed his hand tight and shook his head.

  “Well for one thing I could lose my job,” Renaldo answered. “I have to adhere to company policy regardless of my own personal opinions.”

  “So what are you trying to say, Renaldo,” Oz couldn’t hold back the contempt in his voice. “It’s not like anyone is going to know that you allowed us to stay, and how would anyone know my sexual preference any fucking way?”

  Renaldo turned and pointed to cameras in the corner. “Cooperate says it’s for customer satisfaction, but I’ve known more than one employee to get shit canned for something caught on tape out here on the floor. Second, it’s fairly obvious with the hand holding, but if that wasn’t enough Shelia searched your names and found your social media profiles.” Renaldo stopped and sighed. “You’re both going to have to leave before you cause any more trouble.”

  “Trouble? What the fuck are talking about?” Oz stood and yelled down at Renaldo. “I’m not going out there with those zombie birds. What kind of person are you that you would try to force us out.”

  “Oz please, calm down,” Dalton hissed.

  For the first time Oz became aware that over a dozen camera phones were aimed at him.

  “That’s all you people are. You’re just spectators through your god damned phones.” Oz stopped and thought about how he had locked his phone in the car. “Is that all I’ve been?”

  “Listen the police are on their way. You’ve all but admitted that you started this by feeding a bird a poisoned O’Chicken Bite,” Renaldo was standing now and backing away from Oz and Dalton. “Was this some kind of terror strike, because of our company policy?”

  Murmurs of terrorist slipped through the restaurant.

  “Listen this is all a misunderstanding,” Dalton said and tried to smile at the flashing phone cameras. Oz noticed Dalton’s legs shaking like he had never seen before. His friend had never liked the idea of being in front of a camera, now he had likely gone viral via a dozen different newsfeeds.

  Oz wanted to scream at the crowd to pay attention to the much more significant event taking place outside, or that something was terribly wrong with O’Chicken’s pink sludge. Before he could say anything an O’Chicken sandwich struck him in the face. Dalton, too, was being pelted with food then chairs.

  “Kill the fucking terrorist,” someone screamed. “Kill them before they turn us into zombies.”

  Oz crawled over to Dalton and tried to cover. He noticed that even Renaldo was trying to calm the crowd before a chair toppled him.

  A man ran up and knocked Oz’s outstretched hand away with before wailing on him again and again.

  This escalated fast. Oz laughed to himself. Funny that it should be his lingering thought and maybe his last. He tried to cover himself and his friend, but the kicks made him curl up.

  He noticed the little finch hop and flutter against the window. The brawl had spooked it. His vision started to waver, but he saw a stream of birds dive down and crash into the window. They plowed into it as it cracked and the little one legged finch darted away. The window shattered and the dark cloud descended into the building. They thrashed and pecked for even the tiniest morsel of O’Chicken. Screams and then darkness overwhelmed Oz.

  ***

  “So you fucking expect me to believe that story? That an O’Chicken Bite started a bird apocalypse?” The interrogator smeared his face against window. “What kind of terrorist cell do you work for? We got more than enough video evidence of you admitting poisoning the birds. Are those your butt buddies out there holding up the equality signs? Fucking faggot cell. Is that it?”

  “Where’s Dalton? What have you done with him?”

  “He’s here. Not everyone in that place made it out alive, but you fuckers did,” the interrogator sneered. “But don’t you worry sweetheart, you’ll find a new boyfriend because you’re never going to see Dalton again, just like no one is going to see a live bird again unless you tell me the antidote.”

  Oz laughed. That’s what this was about, an antidote to fix all the pretty birds.

  Brice Chandler

  Brice Chandler is a Marine veteran and Purple Heart recipient. Brice has had several short stories selected for publication and his novel, Whiskey Jack, is now available on Amazon.

  Alice’s Posse

  By Michael Peirce

  From Mrs. Miniver’s Journal

  In 2003 History took a slight curve. I don’t know what universe you live in, but in mine, the first verifiable outbreak of what we sometimes daintily refer to as ‘re-animates,’ was an encounter by the Georgia National Guard and others in Iraq.

  The first outbreaks that occurred that could not be denied were flashed across our television screens in 2006.

  In my universe we were very fortunate, us Georgia folks, to have Vera Selvedge as governor – she alone did not ignore the warnings of 2003 despite Federal attempts to convince her to do so.

  Governor “Black Vera” Selvedge was and is a legend. Her decisive actions just before and after Z-Day made Georgia one of the few places to push back
the raging dead, and survive as a geopolitical entity.

  In my universe, the governor’s accelerated emergency measures were brilliant and energetic but only just enough of it was available in time to preserve the state of “New Georgia” in the end.

  There may be other surviving states and there are definitely other survivors. Unfortunately communications are a bad joke since the Federal government decided to go down fighting in a nuclear frenzy that saved no one – not even them. We hear sporadic broadcasts but the ability to send / receive with any consistency or clarity is just not there – we have hopes that conditions will someday improve.

  Z-Day -10

  Director of Public Safety Steven Harper was finishing up his briefing. Captain Horatio Blackman of the Roswell police felt almost as if he had become a bit player in a movie that was being previewed in Hell. Harper made it sound like we were going to war. In Atlanta!

  Blackman kept glancing over at Georgia Governor Vera Selvedge – expecting her to object to some of the more outlandish bullshit Harper was spewing… She didn’t. The governor’s sinister aide, Jane Miniver smiled slightly from her place in the corner of the room. It was not a pleasant smile.

  “Get this through your head Blackman: when the Zs come…” Harper grinned wolfishly, “Don’t be readin’ them no Miranda rights – you put ‘em right down or they’ll put you down.”

  Blackman nodded but he was conflicted about that. His brother had told him the story of what they’d encountered in Iraq where he’d served with Harper’s 11th Engineers. He’d seen the video when the outbreaks hit in Turkey and Africa – but he hadn’t encountered a Z yet. It was still very hard to accept.

  “And can you talk to Captain Alice?”

  Blackman had expected that, “I have a meeting with her tomorrow. Of course, it’s actually a trap – she is a serial killer you know! I have to get her off the street somehow.”

  Harper’s eyes seemed to get wider and his crooked smirk and manic energy more pronounced, “Are you so sure about that? We’ve both met her at the Academy get-togethers – didn’t look like a serial killer to me. We knew her Daddy… Do this – do this for me – hear her out - at least…before you spring your trap. It’s just possible she’s been ahead of us all and might be a resource.”

  Blackman was outraged: “She is wanted for murder! She is a suspect in the murder of her own parents…” He lowered his voice, “None of us really buy into that of course – you’ve seen the crime scene pictures – she didn’t – hell, she couldn’t, do that. Like you said, I know her. But what about the other half a dozen victims?”

  Harper said, “Are you sure we’re talking murder? I’ve seen the autopsy reports and so have you. How do you kill people who’ve been dead already for three or four days? How do you do that?”

  Captain Alice

  They were to meet at the Waffle House just west of 400 on Holcomb Bridge Road. Cars facing each other side by side so the drivers could talk. Like the police cars you see sometimes at a donut shop or fast food joint. So they can cover each other and watch the whole 360 degrees from their vehicles.

  Captain Horatio Blackman commanded a task force of the combined North Atlanta police. Alice McBride commanded a militia / vigilante outfit called Alice’s Posse. Alice was the daughter of one of the 11th Engineer Battalion’s officers and was way ahead of the police in dealing with Zs. Her dad had briefed her fully when she was fourteen.

  Alice was wanted for multiple murders and Blackman was not amused that his officers seemed to be in no hurry to bring her to justice!

  Under direct orders from the Director Stephan Harper, Blackman agreed to talk to Alice before arresting her. He had of course proceeded with his trap – he was determined to take her and her accomplices in regardless.

  Blackman had a total of six cars with nine detectives besides himself in his vehicle. They were positioned so they could cut off Alice from which ever direction she exited – and there were only two practical options once she was in the parking lot. Normally he’d have SWAT backup but the combined North Atlanta SWAT teams were putting out fires and responding to calls for help from officers in trouble.

  Alice pulled up faster than he’d expected. “Get in the car Mr. Blackman! I know this was a trap but your plan, my plan – none of that matters now - everything has changed – we need to move!”

  Eighteen year old Veronica Blackman drew herself up in the backseat – she had a tactical shotgun slung casually over her shoulder. “Daddy – do what she says! Those things are in our neighborhood – Mom’s there alone! Come on we have to go like, right now!”

  Blackman got of his vehicle and jumped in beside Alice. “If this is some kind of a trick…”

  “No trick Mr. Blackman – have your guys forget this silly trap stuff and follow us – I only have one car in your neighborhood…” Alice was distracted by a radio call, “How many? Holy shit! We’re on our way fast as we can get there.”

  She glanced at Blackman, “There are as many as twenty of those freaks storming your neighborhood. A woman with a shot gun has put one down and retreated into her house –tell your guys to have their big boy pants on.” Blackman knew instinctively the woman was his wife La Tasha – he had taught her to use a police style shotgun and he’d always thought she was pretty brave –he sensed she’d been brave enough to use that riot gun.

  Horatio Blackman was now officially frightened.

  He keyed his radio, “This is Blackman – Abort Operation! I say again Abort! Those homicidal maniacs we’ve been hearing about are attacking my own neighborhood – it’s in progress right now – we’re heading there fast and we’re going in hot! Alice and her crew are to be considered ‘friendly’ until we can figure out what’s going on. And hit those sirens!” By then the 911 calls were coming in as well – and there were other neighborhoods in North Atlanta that were starting to call for help – it wasn’t just Roswell.

  It was confused and nervous cops who pulled their unmarked police cars out on to Holcomb Bridge Road, falling behind Alice as the traffic piled up and the light changed against them. They hit the blue lights and the sirens to finally bull their way onto the road. They followed Alice and Blackman using GPS coordinates to Blackman’s neighborhood.

  “Ronnie – pass your dad a bigger gun please – we’re almost there.” She picked up the encrypted radio, “All Posse Gunfighter One units – Larry – there are many cops on the way so hold back and stay clear of them until I holler. If the police need help we go in. Cops are to be considered ‘friendly,’ for now.”

  A somewhat annoyed Captain Blackman hadn’t liked that ‘for now.’ He turned to face her, “I’ve picked up after you Alice – why do you shoot those people so full of holes? The psych team had some comments about that as you can well imagine! Is that a revenge thing?”

  He paused, “We’ve figured out that you didn’t kill your family by the way.”

  “Daddy please! Just listen to Alice – we’re almost there. I’ve shot one of those freaks myself and they just won’t go down unless you get like, all nasty and everything.”

  Blackman was stunned, “Veronica – I didn’t hear that, I can’t hear that – I can get a good lawyer…” He was cut off as Alice slammed the car into something that looked much like a human being. It was erratically jerking its head back and forth, screeching and throwing gravel and rocks at the home two doors down from his own.

  “Girl, are you crazy?” Then Blackman saw the street he lived on was erupting in violence everywhere he looked. Time was speeding up – wasn’t time supposed to slow down after an accident or something?

  The thing Alice hit with the car had bounced off the wall of the home it had been attacking and was staggering toward their car shrieking its hate. Blackman’s mouth dropped open.

  He was seeing this and acting, but his mind was focused on the house at the end of the cul-de-sac. His house. This all happened so fast, when did he get out of the car? He didn’t remember priming the M-4 carbine Ron
nie had handed him and wasn’t sure that he had – until that ravening beast limped rapidly toward him, its face contorted in rage.

  Blackman’s first three shots were from the hip – two impacted the thing – hitting it in the lower chest. It looked at him, looked at its abdomen, screeched loudly and barely slowed down. As he raised the rifle to his shoulder the clacking of a silenced MP5 and the loud bang of a shotgun told him that Alice and Veronica had gotten into the fight. By the time he fired his first round into the thing’s head the whole chest cavity had been opened up and that one at least, had ceased its attack and was quivering as muscle spasms shook its body. They all instinctively fired again at the battered creature and it came apart, finished.

  It was massive confusion as Blackman’s detectives pulled up with screeching tires and wailing sirens. People were fighting the Zs in the street – and losing. Several of the Zs were tearing apart one of Blackman’s neighbors whose screams were almost unbearable. She was a large, pleasant woman who occasionally car pooled with La Tasha Blackman for shopping and other chores. Most of her body was on the driveway in front of her home, blood spurting from her throat and chest into wet, greasy pools and cascading down the driveway into the gutter – a shocking sight.

 

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