Dead, but Not for Long
~*~
Matthew Kinney
Lesa Kinney Anders
Copyright © 2012 Matthew Kinney and Lesa Kinney Anders
All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the authors except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner.
Any resemblance to actual persons, living, dead or living dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.
Cover photo and illustration Copyright © 2012 by Lesa Kinney Anders
Thanks to our Beta readers: Andy, Ariel, Cindy, Dian, John and Mark
Edited by Adam Anders
To our mother
Dian Kinney
and
In memory of our father
Wesley Lee Kinney
Table of Contents
00 Prologue - The Beginning of the End
01 The First Bite
02 Room 329
03 There's Something Rotten in Lansing
04 Chaos
05 Eric Goes AWOL
06 Death Can't Keep Us Apart
07 Operation Second Floor
08 I Told You to Stay Away from the Window
09 Lemmings off a Cliff
10 Dead but Dangerous
11 Friends or Foes?
12 You Don’t Have to Go Home but You Can’t Decay Here
13 From Hero to Zero in Seconds
14 Eric Meets Miguel
15 Miguel's Secret
16 The Meeting
17 Autumn Volunteers
18 Eric Takes Charge
19 Honey, I’m Home
20 Eric to the Rescue . . . or Not
21 The Military Makes an Appearance
22 Falling into Place
23 Road Trip
24 Death Everywhere
25 Harold Calls in Sick
26 Die-secting Fun with Dr. Doom
27 To Stay or Not to Stay
28 Shall We Meet Again?
29 Black Friday, Zombie Apocalypse Style
30 Snake's Worst Nightmares
31 Death from Above
32 Rampage
33 Contact
34 To Hell and Back
35 Playing Bait
36 Time Is Running Out
37 Let the Good Times Roll
38 The Moose Is Loose
39 Double Trouble
40 So Close, Yet So Far
41 Like Rats in a Maze
42 Say Goodbye
43 The End of the Beginning
~Prologue~
Chase lowered his sunglasses, giving him a better view of a woman walking by in a bikini. Too old, he decided, looking away. She was probably pushing thirty. He scanned the area slowly, his gaze coming to a stop on the pool where two girls were splashing each other and laughing. They were legal, but barely. Their hard bodies kept his attention riveted as his imagination played out numerous scenarios. He stood and ran a hand over his thinning hair and sucked in his gut as much as possible before approaching the pool.
Ten minutes later, he was back in his lounge chair. One of the girls had even had the nerve to tell him to find someone his own age. Right. As if he’d have to settle for some forty year old hag.
He had anticipated this Panama Canal cruise for years, ever since his co-workers had taken one and had returned with stories that could only be repeated in certain macho circles. As it had turned out, either the singles’ smorgasbord that he’d been promised had been highly exaggerated or his long string of bad luck was continuing. The trip down the east coast from New York had been enjoyable enough. He had scoped out the hot spots on the ship and had noticed several prospects that would be acceptable, at least for a night. He had diligently worked his charm on them but for some unfathomable reason, he had been met with one rejection after another. In Miami, his luck had been no better. Undeterred, he had held out hope that once he reached the tropics, the local cuisine would be more agreeable.
As he relaxed in his chair by the pool, Chase could hear snippets of conversation, mostly about the flu. It figured. He had finally parted with the cash for a seventeen-day cruise and it happened to coincide with an outbreak of the H1N1 virus. Still, he didn’t worry much about it. These things were always overblown; anything to sell a paper or get viewers to tune in to the news.
As the ship headed for the Panama Canal, he told himself that Central America would be better. That was where his friends had really gotten lucky. With his virile good looks and impressive job as a DJ, bagging a local should be a cinch.
His luck there hadn’t turned out to be any better than it had been anywhere else. It wasn’t the party paradise he had expected and the women he saw weren’t the babes he’d been dreaming about. His co-workers had assured him that all of the ports catered to the cruise ship passengers. The picture he had envisioned was of brightly colored little shops with music playing and smiling vendors ready to sell him anything he wanted. What he encountered instead was street after street of closed businesses and frightened-looking people hurrying to get from one place to another.
He quickened his step as he passed a woman who lay in a gutter, carrying on a heated conversation with herself. A bandage on her cheek appeared to be leaking blood and God knew what else. The woman grew silent and her head slowly swiveled to follow Chase’s progress down the road. Unnerved, he glanced back at her twice to find her eyes still tracking him.
As he walked a little farther down the main street, he noticed that many of the locals were wearing medical masks and avoiding anybody that appeared to be ill. He saw one man cross himself as he spoke in hushed tones to a friend about ‘the crazy ones.’
A little after noon, the passengers were informed by armed guards that they needed to return to the ship immediately. Chase was more than happy to comply, as a couple of men had started to follow him. It was obvious to him that they were drunk by the way they swayed with every step, but it was something in their eyes that caused him the most anxiety. As he glanced back, he saw one of them lift a hand to reach for him, though he was a safe distance away by that time.
The ship stayed in the harbor that afternoon. After the last passenger was back on board, the gangway was stowed away, ensuring that nobody would be getting on or off. This ominous measure was the main topic of conversation for the rest of the day. The ship’s bars were full that night, but the mood was somber.
As he sat down to have a drink, Chase overheard a quiet discussion. A man wearing a gaudy Hawaiian shirt was trying to convince the woman next to him that it hadn’t been the flu that had necessitated the premature return to the ship.
“What was it, then?” she asked, keeping her voice low. Chase strained to hear the reply; something about an attack.
“Was it robbery?” she asked, playing with the umbrella in her drink.
“No. They weren’t even together and in both cases the victim was bitten. The flu doesn’t make people bite each other. There’s something else going on here.”
“Maybe they have a vampire problem,” she said, trying to lighten the mood.
~*~
An announcement from the captain came the next morning. The remainder of the cruise would be spent at sea since the flu outbreak was escalating in Central America. Besides concerns about exposure to the virus, there had been rioting and other violence reported. Free drink tickets and onboard credits were given to all passengers to make up for the inconvenience. Two days later came another announcement, but it wasn’t
the captain speaking. The passengers were informed that the cruise would have to be cut short due to an emergency. The nature of this emergency was never disclosed, but the ship picked up its speed and set a course straight for Los Angeles.
That night found Chase sitting in his room with the best company he could get; several bottles of booze. He had begun to count the hours until they would arrive in Los Angeles and he’d already created a few stories to tell his coworkers. They’d never hear the truth from him; that the trip had been a disaster and a complete waste of money.
He drank until he passed out, only to be woken during the night by the moaning pleasures of a neighbor more fortunate than Chase. He pounded on the wall, but the obscene groans only seemed to intensify. They were mocking him, he was certain. Carefully, he sat up in bed, trying to shake off the alcoholic haze that surrounded him. Several attempts to call the management led to a busy signal, so he would have to take matters into his own hands. Standing up, he decided that there was going to be hell to pay. As he approached the door, he realized that the sounds weren’t coming from the other room, but rather the hallway. He was stunned by the audacity of the couple. He decided that he would open the door stealthily and quickly, catching the amorous couple in the act. The moans and movements outside his room disgusted him as he curled his fingers around the door knob. With a jerk, he opened the door, but the harsh words he'd been about to spew died on his lips. Shock gave way to bewilderment until fear began to creep in as well, all in a matter of seconds. When the two figures outside the door turned toward him, he took a step backward, his heart racing. His mind searched desperately to find an explanation for the hideous sight, but he had no luck.
“What the hell?” he asked, but the words came out strained and uncertain.
The sound of his voice seemed to trigger something in the pair and they moved forward with arms outstretched as if to grab him. The woman’s face was deathly pale, except for the blood stains which started at her teeth and snaked down her shirt. Her eyes were a milky white and seemed to have a depraved intensity that chilled him to the bone. The man behind her had the same pale complexion and dull eyes, but where a good portion of his face used to be, there was only bone and patches of torn muscle.
Chase stumbled back and fumbled for the door, still trying to make sense of it. Was this a joke? That's what it was; make-up. Damn good make-up.
“Joke's over!” he yelled, trying to force the door shut. “Keep coming and I swear I'll knock your teeth out!”
They continued pushing against the door, roused by Chase’s voice as others joined them. Turning, he ran into the bathroom and was able to get the door latched just as his lumbering assailants reached it. He tried to gather his thoughts as they clawed at the door, emitting low, threatening moans. If this was a joke they were taking it way too far. He could hear a chorus of unearthly lamentations, filling him with the distressing knowledge that even more ghouls had entered the room. The door started to bend under the weight of the bodies as they pressed against it. Chase tried to hold it but the latch snapped and he was forced against the sink of the tiny bathroom. In a second, they were on him. He held his arm out in a defensive position and was met with a searing pain as the woman clamped her bloody jaws around it. He crumpled down to the ground and his foes followed him.
He felt each bite with amazing clarity as he tried in vain to kick his attackers away. The agony he endured as strips of skin were torn from his body caused him to clench his teeth so tightly that he could hear them crack. One of the maniacs clawed into Chase’s mid-section and began to drag his intestines out with a sickening sound. The others joined in, growling as they fought each other for the grisly entrails. Chase could only watch in horror, praying for death to free him from the torture. A geyser of blood squirted from his belly, giving him the dreadful consolation that he would soon bleed out. The burning misery began to numb and darkness started to close in on him. The last sound he heard was a chorus of hysterical wails and the tearing of flesh.
When Chase awoke, he was dead.
~*^*~
~01~
The blaring of the alarm brought Keith awake and he fumbled for the off switch. Yawning, he sat up and rubbed his eyes as he tried to mentally prepare for the day. The twelve-hour shifts were grueling, but he loved the three-day work week when it actually happened. He often got called in on at least half of his days off, but he wasn’t complaining. The overtime was always welcome. He stood and made his way to the shower, glad that he had finally modernized the old bathroom. With the new plumbing, he was always able to get hot water. He shaved after his shower and he noticed something. For the first time, he could see a resemblance between himself and his late grandfather. It was something his grandmother and mother had always mentioned, but he had never seen it before. He wasn’t sure what it was that made him suddenly aware of the similarities, probably just the angle of his face or the lighting, but it made him curious. He went to his bedroom and dug out an old picture. Returning to the bathroom, he held it up beside his face as he looked long and hard into the mirror. The hair was different. Keith had grown his out long and he kept it in tiny braids. His grandfather, on the other hand, had worn the military cut as had been required of all the Tuskegee Airmen. He had been one of the first African-American pilots in the United States military and he had been proud of that fact. Keith looked at the picture and smiled slightly, knowing that he was lucky to have had such an honorable man to look up to as a child.
After putting the picture away, Keith made himself a healthy breakfast and watched the early morning news while he ate. He glanced at the clock before changing into his scrubs and grabbing the backpack that contained his lunch and his workout clothes. 5:30. He’d be early, which was how he liked it.
Lansing had been going through a sweltering heat wave but the early morning temperatures were still bearable. The walk home would not be quite so pleasant but since it was only a few blocks, it would be tolerable. He’d found that it was actually faster to walk than to try to find a place to park. It also gave him an extra bit of exercise. He didn’t need it, since he spent an hour at a nearby gym every day after work, but he tried to work exercise into his daily routine as often as possible.
His thoughts were interrupted by the sound of his cell phone playing Linda Ronstadt’s “You’re No Good.” He sighed, not sure he wanted to talk to his soon-to-be ex-wife, Shanelle. He had left her after catching her with another man and now she was desperately trying to reconcile. Seems that the man she’d cheated with had turned out to be a loser. Too bad, Keith thought. The phone rang again and he looked at it, still debating. He still loved her and they’d had a couple of great years together, yet he was reluctant to put himself in the situation where he’d end up looking like a fool again. He knew that it was mostly his pride controlling his actions, but still, if they were going to get back together, it would be on his terms. He would also have to be sure that the affair had been a one-time slip-up and not something that would be repeated. He started to punch the button to take the call then stuffed the phone back into his pocket in frustration. He’d think it over and maybe call her on one of his breaks.
~*~
Her baby blue eyes pierced him to the soul. God knew Eric wanted to give in, but all that was good in him wouldn’t allow it.
“Please,” she begged him. “Only one night, that’s all I ask. No one will know!”
“I’ll know,” was his stern reply. “Cheri, you have a husband. Two kids. I can’t let you hurt them. You made that vow years ago, and that’s one vow I’m going to help you honor.”
“I was wrong!” she sobbed, grabbing his shoulders.
“You drew first blood, Baby,” he replied without emotion.
Sobbing uncontrollably, she grasped his shoulders more tightly than before.
“Don’t make me beg!” she said. This time, her fingers dug sharply into his shoulders, sending a wave of pain shooting through his body.
“Wake up, Eric! You ov
erslept again.”
Reality came crashing down as Eric realized it was all a dream.
“You can’t be late. You’re going to lose another job, and I’m going to end up supporting your lazy butt, again,” his mother barked. She was only 5’3” and gray haired, but she was intimidating as she stood over him, arms crossed and glaring.
Eric felt sick to his stomach as he leapt to his feet, revealing a 5 foot 10 inch, 265 pound body in thong underwear.
“Oh, Lordy, do you have to wear those?” she asked in obvious disgust.
“Cheri used to like them,” he argued.
“That was ten years and about 100 pounds ago.”
He ignored her comments and waded through the piles of dirty clothes until he uncovered a blue uniform draped over a chair by his computer desk. He gave it a quick sniff and winced at the unpleasant odor. Scanning the chaos for something a little less rancid, he finally gave up and donned the uniform. The only thing tidy about Eric was his military style crew cut. He thought it made him look more professional, but the main reason he wore it was that it was low maintenance and allowed him extra time for his video games.
“I’m starving,” he whined as he pulled on a dirty sock. “I don’t suppose you cooked up some breakfast?”
“There are some pancakes on the table,” his mother sighed, “although I don’t think you’re in danger of starving anytime soon.”
“Thanks, Ma!” he smiled and gave her a kiss.
She balked at the stench and fanned her face in a vain attempt to dispel the aroma.
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