Dying Days Ultimate Box Set 1

by Armand Rosamilia

  “What the…” Ike said to David.

  Jill tried to make corrections with the wheel but Shibumi leaned to port despite her efforts.

  “Jesus Christ,” Darlene said, pointing to the top of the mast. “What the fuck is next?”

  The eyes of the group followed her point to see a zombie skewered atop the main mast. The corpse writhed and gyrated, and Shibumi rocked in unison with the movement.

  “Damn it,” David said.

  A loud splash off the starboard side, followed by two on the port side, captured their attention.

  “Fucking lovely,” Brewski said. “It’s raining undead.”

  The vessel was not yet fully out from under the bridge but bodies of the undead were steadily falling from above.

  Jill spun the wheel and Shibumi immediately began a hard bank.

  “What the hell are you doing?” Darlene asked.

  “We’ve got a corpse in the rigging,” Jill said. “Do you want one landing on your head?”

  There was no further conversation, Shibumi reversed course and re-emerged on the south side of the bridge.

  “Looks like we’re heading south,” Ike said.

  “Might as well,” David said. “It’s not like we have any particular destination.”

  Ike thought about his boat in St. Augustine and wondered if he would ever see it again.

  “Every time I think it’s over,” Angel said.

  “Over?” Ike said. “I don’t think this shit has an over.”

  She squeezed him again.

  “Ay yiyi,” she said softly.

  The zombie continued to struggle atop the mast, and the boat echoed its movements.

  “Shouldn’t we do something about that?” Darlene asked.

  “Don’t know what we can do,” David said. “Not while we’re underway.”

  “Why don’t we stop?” she asked.

  “Remember the zombies in the water,” David reminded her.

  “Son of a bitch,” she said.

  “I’ll tell you what we can do,” John said, stepping up and loading his crossbow.

  He aimed at the squirming corpse at the top of the mast, drew a breath and held it, then squeezed the trigger.

  The arrow sliced through the air until it embedded itself in the skull of the zombie. Immediately the writhing stopped and Shibumi moved ahead normally.

  As they moved south, the survivors stared ahead at the Intracoastal Waterway before them, each one wondering what would be waiting ahead.

  Thirty minutes later Shubumi came out of an “S” curve in the river.

  “Now what?” Angel asked.

  “Looks like a road block,” Ike said.

  A hundred yards ahead three partially sunken boats blocked their path.

  “Can we go around them?” Darlene asked.

  “No,” David said. “If we get that far from the middle of the channel, it won’t be deep enough.”

  “Son of a fucking bitch,” Darlene said. “Anybody got any more ideas?”

  Her question was answered with resounding silence. They stood motionless as they inched toward the wreckage. With no warning, the vessel began a hard turn to the starboard. The sudden movement broke the group from their trance-like state.

  “What are you doing?” Darlene asked Jill.

  “Turning around,” she said. “We may not know what to do next, but I know what we can’t do…we can’t sail through that mess.”

  “We can’t go back that way either,” Darlene protested.

  “It looks like we’re out of options,” Ike said.

  “We’ve already gone from the frying pan to the fire,” Angel said. “What’s next?”

  Nobody answered.

  David stepped up next to Jill as she worked to reverse Shibumi’s course.

  “Nice and easy,” he said. “We don’t know what other debris is down there.”

  Before Jill could reply, they felt a solid thud and Shibumi lurched to the side.

  “What the hell was that?” John asked.

  “I’m guessing we hit something,” David said as he leaned over the rail for a look.

  “See anything?” Jill asked.

  “No, but this water isn’t exactly crystal clear,” he said. “I’ll go below and check for damage.”

  David went to the fore bulkhead and started down into the cabin.

  “I’ll check aft,” Ike said.

  The two men emerged from below at the same time.

  “No damage aft,” Ike reported.

  “Not so lucky up front,” David said. “Small breech, we’re taking on a little water.”

  “Are we going to sink?” Angel asked.

  “No, the bilge pump will keep up with it, but we can’t let it go too long because the pump is getting old and I don’t want to sign its death warrant.”

  “Can we make it to St. Augustine?” Darlene asked.

  “I’d rather not try,” David said. “I think our only choice is to go back where we started…the dock at European Village.”

  “Ay yiyi,” Angel said.

  “You can check out any time you like…” Ike said.

  “…but you can never leave,” Brewski finished.

  Bethany

  Back before the world ended, drinking and driving was frowned upon. Bethany wasn't drunk, but she was feeling really good as she started the Harley Davidson motorcycle and decided to head north and see if St. Augustine would offer protection. Would anywhere be safe now?

  She glanced over the rail at the European Village, smoke pluming from one end and zombies in the parking lot. Bethany was going to miss living their in a semblance of protection, and she tried to ignore the thoughts of the many new friends she would never see again, and who were now undead and vicious.

  The wine was stowed in the side saddlebag and she began to ride, but she only got to the top of the Hammock Dunes Bridge before she saw them: a wave of zombies shuffling right at her. Some of them were distracted by something below, and she was glad, because it gave her a little gap in their ranks.

  But before she could blast through them on the bike, more swarmed and she was forced to brake. Now she saw some of them falling off the bridge, and it was unnerving. They didn’t jump; they leaned forward, arms extended, tipped over and were gone.

  Forced to turn around, she skirted away just as they closed ranks. Without an actual weapon, she wasn't going to get far. She decided to high-tail it into Palm Coast and see if she could get to Route 1 and head north from there.

  There were still quite a few zombies on the bridge and all around, but she was able to drive away and rush down Palm Coast Parkway and due west.

  She had a panicked moment when she felt the wine kicking in with the adrenalin but she wasn't close to being impaired. She still had her senses and she calmed down, dodging lunging zombies as she went. She felt the wind through her hair and wished she'd gotten on a motorcycle sooner, since she'd only been a passenger on them in the past. It was a different feel being in control and not riding bitch, and she reveled in the freedom, something she hadn't had in far too long. European Village was like a cage, and she felt like a rat. Or a hamster. They were cuter, so she'd go with that analogy.

  She sped past a torched gas station, a ruined fire station across the street. Everything was collapsing, the smell of smoke lingering even after weeks or months. Bethany knew she smelled pretty bad right now with all the fire she'd just left, as well as trying to figure out when her last actual shower was. She decided, before she died, she would get clean and find a nice pair of jeans, a new shirt and a bra that fit. Oh, and shoes. Maybe some boots or comfy sneakers.

  At the next intersection, she saw the Publix shopping center (or what was left of it). To either side of the road was destruction. Everything lay to waste. There were zombies in the area, but they weren't in any real numbers. They seemed to be wandering aimlessly, in search of the living. The few in the road she easily dodged without stopping and she was getting a better feel for the Harle
y. She was also going to be close to sober in a bit, and she didn't know if she wanted to be.

  The ABC Liquor was on her right, but as she slowed down, she saw it was gutted. This almost brought a tear to her eye, not because she was an alcoholic (truth be told, she was a complete social drinker in her former life, preferring a beer or two except on special occasions), but because she wanted to become numb to the world around her with more liquor. Sitting in her cramped apartment in European Village, she'd found a friend in the bottle and rarely went a few hours without a drink. A sip here and a shot of Jack Daniels there until it ran out. Whatever she could find or whatever she had to trade for a drink in Farley's with Mort and Jerry before today.

  Bethany thought about stopping and heading inside. Maybe she'd get lucky again and find some hidden gem. But, when she went to pull into the parking lot, she saw at least four zombies inside and decided against it. No use in putting herself in danger.

  Instead, she crossed over Old Kings Highway and kept heading west, slowing to look over the side at I-95, which was an abandoned vehicle graveyard. She wasn't getting to St. Augustine going in that direction, especially with the zombies peppered into the mix down there.

  Continuing on, she shot through another main intersection, and the undead were heavier here. They were still spread out, a few loitering in the Dunkin Donuts parking lot while others were across the street at the Taco Bell. No matter where she looked there was movement, and she hoped it wasn't going to get thicker with them as she progressed to Route 1. And she was coming up on a massive clusterfuck of torched cars and rotting body parts in the road, but she could get around it if she skirted to her right and onto a side road, which she took cautiously so no zombie would get the jump on her from behind the wall of vehicles.

  Two zombies reached with rotting hands as Bethany moved past, keeping the motorcycle moving so she wasn't trapped in front of them and they couldn't get a grip as she went past. She wanted to stop and kill them but knew it would be stupid, since she only had her bare hands to fight with and there wasn't a gun or other weapon lying around on the road like in a bad horror movie. She'd need to use her wits.

  There were a cluster of zombies in a nearby bank parking lot and several slamming themselves at the plate glass window of the drive-thru of the bank, which was quite unnerving to hear, even with the engine running.

  Bethany was glad they were focused on something else; since there were so many of them she feared she wouldn't be able to get away from all of them. She needed to remain calm and speed off, but there was so much debris on the road it was making it hard to concentrate.

  She didn't notice the zombie until it was upon her, crashing into the bike and forcing her to fall over and watch helplessly as the motorcycle shot out from under her and rolled thirty feet into the bank parking lot before tipping over.

  The zombie was a male, which, to Bethany's dismay, meant his private parts were out and searching for her. She forced herself not to scream, because attracting more zombies would end up in a brutal mass rape of her body. To this point, she'd kept it out of her mind that the zombies not only wanted to bite you but would sexually violate you, literally, to death. Now Bethany was seeing it first-hand.

  She tried to keep her legs closed and grabbed the monster as it fell on her, teeth gnashing as it tried to get into position. She choked when his smell washed over her. A small piece of its cheek fell onto hers, and she shook it off violently. She vomited, spitting it all over herself and the zombie. She thought drowning in her own throw-up a better way to die than what the undead had in store for her.

  Bethany kept her hands moving, trying to toss the zombie off of her body, but he was too strong and had the leverage of being on top of her. She felt its repulsive member sliding against her pants, and squirmed to no avail.

  As she turned her head and tried to roll to her left, she saw another three zombies shuffling toward her, and another one running at her.

  Running? Holy shit, now they can move fast, she thought and wanted to cry.

  "Close your eyes," the running zombie said as it got to her.

  Now they can talk?

  Bethany realized it wasn't a zombie when it took a swipe with the katana and took off the head of the zombie on top of her.

  Shelly

  Shelly looked at the pregnant girl, then up at the scorching sun overhead.

  “How are you doing, Angela?” she asked.

  Angela licked her chapped lips, ran a hand over her stomach and then wiped the sweat from her brow. She nodded at Shelly with a look of determination.

  “I’ll be okay,” she said.

  “I wish we could stop and rest,” Shelly said, “but we have to keep moving. If you can’t make it, just let us know.”

  Angela nodded. “Let’s keep moving.”

  Shelly looked over her shoulder at the rest of the group. Immediately behind her, Amanda and Daniel held hands and walked in pace, looking ahead with dazed expressions.

  “You guys okay?” Shelly asked.

  “We’re fine,” Daniel answered. “All things considered.”

  “Cliff, Cheryl, Juan,” Shelly called to the rear of the pack, “You guys doing okay?”

  “We’re fine,” Cliff said, “but Marybeth is getting tired.”

  “I’m fine,” Marybeth said. “I went three days without food at Woodstock, I can make it.”

  “Marybeth,” Shelly said, “Woodstock was 45 years ago…you were a lot younger then. Juan, if she needs help…”

  “I’ll be there,” Juan answered.

  From the far back of the pack, Geoff pushed his way past the others and trotted to the front.

  “Yeah, I’m doing fine, too, Captain,” he said.

  Shelly looked at him with a furrowed brow.

  “Really?” she said. “You really want to act like a child at this particular moment? I was going to ask you how you were doing if you had given me a chance.”

  “Yeah, well, I’m fine,” he said. “Would you mind telling me your plan?”

  Shelly stepped over a corpse and ducked under a low hanging tree branch at the same time.

  “We’re going to head to the Intracoastal and try to get across.”

  “Why?” Geoff asked. “No, forget why…how? How the hell do you plan on getting across? It’s gotta be over 200 feet wide. Y’all gonna swim?”

  Shelly held the branch out of the way so Angela could pass, and then released it, letting it slap Geoff square in the face.

  “Y’all did that on purpose,” he complained.

  “First of all,” Shelly said. “If we have to swim, then we have to swim, unless you have a better plan. Second, if you had stayed back there where you were, the branch wouldn’t have hit you.”

  Geoff wiped blood from his lip and tried to stare Shelly down. She met his stare with a patronizing look.

  “Are you coming, or not?” she asked.

  “You’re going to get us killed,” he said as he stepped back to allow the rest of the group to pass. He took his place at the back of the pack and followed along, grumbling to himself as he walked.

  “Why does he have to be such an ass all the time?” Angela asked Shelly.

  “I guess it’s just in his blood,” Shelly said. “Where he’s from I don’t think the men take too kindly to following the lead of a woman.”

  “Well, you’ve led us this far and if it weren’t for you we never would have made it,” Angela said. “He can take his hillbilly attitude and go to hell, for all I care.”

  “I’d be happy if he’d just think about the group instead of himself for a change,” Shelly answered.

  They worked their way through the driveway of a house and into the back yard. Shelly stopped and tried the spigot. A few lone drops fell from the faucet, then nothing.

  “Damn it,” she cursed. “I never realized how much I took a simple drink of water for granted.”

  Angela rounded the corner of the house and stopped in her tracks.

  “Hey, I
think I found some water,” she said over her shoulder.

  The group stopped next to Angela and gazed in wide-eyed wonder at the above-ground swimming pool in the back yard. 17,000 gallons of water—just sitting there. Geoff was the first to react. With a loud Yee-Haw, he took off, in a sprint, for the pool, hopping over lawn furniture on his way. In one surprisingly athletic move, he vaulted over the side and into the pool. The others watched with wide grins until Geoff leapt out of the pool faster than he had gone in.

  “Holy shit, sweet mother of Jesus, holy shit,” he yelled repeatedly. “Holy shit.”

  The others ran to the edge of the pool.

  The water was muddy red and the surface was littered with corpses, four of them children.

  “Jesus,” Angela said.

  Juan executed the sign of the cross rapidly and bowed his head in a silent prayer.

  Geoff paced around the yard trying to rid himself of the foulness of the bloody water. He stripped down to his underwear and threw his clothes as far from himself as he could.

  “Well, this doesn’t help,” Shelly said. “Let’s go, the Intracoastal is just ahead.

  “Yeah, I’m fine,” Geoff said. “Just keep going, I just went swimming in blood with a bunch of dead people. I’m fine.”

  “Yeah, Geoff, it’s all about you.” Shelly said. “The rest of us are having a damn picnic out here. Angela’s about to give birth, Marybeth is twice your age and Cheryl has a broken ankle.”

  Without waiting for a reply, Shelly pushed on ahead and the group followed her, including Geoff, who brought up the rear wearing only a pair of boxer shorts covered in big, red hearts. Five minutes later they stood on the banks of the Intracoastal Waterway, staring across the 260-foot wide river.

  “Okay, Wonder Woman,” Geoff said, “what next?”

  Shelly put her hands on her hips and gazed toward the far bank.

  “Did you bring a boat?” Geoff said.

  Cliff stepped up to Shelly. “Ignore him,” he said quietly. “Let’s just figure out what we need to do.”

  Geoff wasn’t going to be ignored. He stepped up and elbowed his way between them.