Savannah's Only Zombie (Book 2): A New Darkness

by Josh Vasquez

  Avery smiled.

  “You surprised?” He asked.

  Josh shook his head and walked over to his friend.

  “A little,” he said with a chuckle as he embraced Avery.

  The two men hugged.

  “You’re a sight for sore eyes man,” Avery said. “Wait a minute, aren’t you the girl from Savannah?”

  His eyes fell on Tori. She nodded. Avery pulled back from his hug and looked at Josh.

  “You know these people?” he asked.

  “Yeah,” Josh answered. “I picked them up outside of Savannah. You know them?”

  “Yeah man, they helped me escape some crazy hipsters in Savannah. How’s Jeremy? And Ben? And Lexx?”

  Tori looked down at the ground.

  “We don’t know,” Josh said. “We got separated from them a couple days ago. My family was all killed.”

  Avery looked at his friend with a sadness in his eyes.

  “I’m so sorry to hear that man.”

  He pulled Josh back into another hug.

  “Thanks,” Josh said, wiping a few tears from his eyes.

  “Avery,” Tori started. “Where have you been this whole time?”

  Avery looked over to Tori and pulled away from Josh. His smile grew wide.

  “Well, there’s been an uprising back in Savannah. People are starting to fight back against the undead. Parts of the city have been reclaimed for the living. And we have heard from other cities that the same thing is happening all over the US. There’s colonies in Charleston, Athens, and all down the Georgia coastline. The war against the zombies has begun.”

  ***

  Jeremy sat with his father on the roof of the police station.

  “So, your mother… She’s dead?”

  Jeremy slowly nodded at his father’s question.

  The man put his head in his hands and cried. Jeremy was unsure on how to process his father’s response.

  Did he still care about her? He thought.

  The man looked up, the tears wet on his cheeks.

  “I’m so sorry son. She was a truly amazing woman.”

  “She was,” Jeremy said.

  His father wiped the wetness from his face and did his best to pull himself together.

  “Dad, where have you been this whole time?”

  Jeremy’s father stood up and walked over to the edge of the roof.

  “I… I was on the yacht for a while. I left before everything supposedly happened. I had no idea what was going on with the rest of the world. I was accompanied by two ladies and we spent most of the time drinking and…”

  “Spare me those details, Dad,” Jeremy interrupted.

  His father looked back at him.

  “Yes, sorry. Well, after several days of partying, we were out of alcohol. We jumped in the helicopter and made a trip inland. We had no idea what happened when we arrived. Savannah looked like a war zone. I went to my house first and found that my Jeep was stolen.”

  Jeremy cleared his throat.

  “Um, actually, I took it.”

  “What?” His father asked. “You took it?”

  “Yeah, after mom was killed. I tried to find you. I made my way through Savannah to your house, only to find that you weren’t even there. So, I took the Jeep.”

  “Oh, well, that’s okay I guess,” his father said.

  “It ran out of gas though, so we had to abandon it.”

  His dad did not look too pleased with the fact that Jeremy abandoned the Jeep, but decided not to press the issue.

  “So, what did you do next?” Jeremy asked.

  “Me and the girls gathered what we could from the surrounding houses and went back to the yacht. We waited until it was absolutely necessary to return. When we did, we came across a group of survivors. They explained to us what happened and asked them to join them. They were part of a larger group who was trying to take back the city. They wanted me to join them and use the helicopter for surveying the surrounding area and for long distance supply runs. I’ve been with them ever since.”

  Jeremy could not believe it. This whole time, they had been trying to avoid the cities and it was the cities that were making a difference.

  “I want you to come back with me.”

  Jeremy looked at his father.

  “Come back with you?” he asked.

  “Yes,” his father said, pausing before continuing. “Come back to Savannah with me. You would be safe and well taken care of. I can teach you how to fly helicopter and we can go on runs together. And-”

  “And what about these people?” Jeremy interrupted, holding his hand out towards the police station. “What about CJ? And the police officers? And our friends who are still out there? We still need to find them.”

  His dad seemed hurt by his resistance.

  “Look, Dad, I’m so glad you are alive and that you found me, but I’ve been on mine own since… well, since you left. You can’t just fly in here, tell me about some survivor colony, and expect me to leave everyone else, do you?”

  “No, that’s not what I meant, Jeremy! Of course they can come! God knows we could use more police officers. The boy running it now has been doing a great job, but has been definitely overwhelmed with all the… well, nevermind. The point is we can use all the help we can get!”

  Jeremy felt that maybe he was too harsh. Maybe he was letting his dad have some of the built up frustration from over the years.

  “And the others? We still have to find them.”

  “Okay, then that’s the first thing we do. We can use the helicopter to get a bird’s eye view of the surrounding area and we will find your friends. Then, we can return home.”

  Home.

  The word echoed in Jeremy’s head.

  What does that even mean anymore?

  Savannah at one time was his home. And then, the dead came back to life. From that point on, home was vague term. They wandered from place to place, the warehouses, the construction vehicle facility, the abandoned houses along the way; all of them places of momentary refuge, but none a home.

  But then they had the cabin. And for a while, things were great. Normal even. Jeremy finally felt like he could call somewhere home again.

  But a madman violently ripped it all away from them.

  Now, they were scattered. Lost.

  The sun began to peek over the horizon. The red burning orb slowly rose, casting its light out over the land, the darkness fleeing from it.

  Jeremy took a deep breath and let it escape his lungs slowly.

  The darkness had its time. A new day was breaking.

  End of Book Two

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are a product of the author’s imagination, or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead (or undead), is coincidental. Except for the people based on my family, I totally meant to do that.

  Copyright © 2014 by Josh Vasquez

  All rights reserved.

  To the real CJ and Hailey, you guys are awesome.

  I.

  I. Panic

  I could tell Mom and Dad were arguing about something. They always went into their room and closed the door to argue. It was a rare occurrence; they hardly ever argued. My sister, Hailey, who is eight, hadn’t quite caught on to this yet. She continued to play obliviously with her toys. But I’m thirteen, I know what’s going on in there. There was only one other reason they closed their door like that, and well, that happened mostly late at night when I was supposed to be asleep. Gross.

  I guess I have it good though. I know a lot of kids, some of my friends, that aren’t so lucky to have both parents together. And not only together, but parents who were still madly in love with each other. Again, gross.

  Hailey put in the headphones of the cheap mp3 player I bought her last Christmas. I could hear the music blaring from where I’m sitting near the wall of my bedroom. Most likely one of the countless “teen” musicals she liked. Da
d told me to take her upstairs and play in my room. This was strange to me, because even when they did go into their room to “discuss” things, they never told me to take Hailey upstairs and play.

  With Hailey off in her own little world, I leaned in close to the wall and placed my ear against it. My room was situated on the second floor directly above my parent’s room. Most of the time the conversations were too muffled to make any words out, but I was really curious this time. I held my breath as I listened.

  It was hard to understand what they were talking about; I kept hearing just a few words and phrases. It sounded like my mother was crying. The sound of muffled sobs traveled through the vibrations in the wall.

  Why is she crying?

  The only words that made any sense were spoken by my father.

  “Leaving… Not safe… Cabin…”

  Leaving? Where are we going? I thought. What’s not safe? And why would we go to the cabin now? We still have school tomorrow.

  The cabin was an old farmhouse that my family restored on some land my grandfather inherited out past Statesboro, Georgia. It was our own little vacation spot. We’d go up there a lot during the summer months. There was a small lake nearby where we’d fish, kayak, and swim. In the cooler seasons, we’d go to hunt; we had several stands throughout the woods.

  But now was not the time to go to the cabin, it was the middle of the semester. Hailey and I were still in school, and Mom and G-Mom were both teachers. Thanksgiving break wasn’t for another week. Why would we be going now?

  I went to press my ear back against the wall, but I felt a nagging presence to the side of me.

  It was Hailey.

  “What are you doing?” she asked, her little eyebrows furrowed.

  “Nothing,” I answered, as I pulled myself back from the wall.

  “Ooh… Are you trying to listen in on Mom and Dad?”

  I shrugged her off and walked towards my dresser. I could feel her little, icy-blue eyes follow me. I picked up a model car off the dresser, inspected it nonchalantly, and then placed it back down in its spot. I turned back to face her. She was still intently staring me down.

  “What?” I asked.

  She placed a hand on her hip, which was now slightly cocked out to the side. This stance was a result of spending much time with our Aunt Laura when Hailey was younger. I couldn’t help but crack a smile briefly. It was funny.

  Hailey was the spitting image of our mother. Especially since she just got her haircut short, right at the shoulders; the same hairstyle my mother sported. Blonde hair, blue eyes, same facial features, the only genetic trait she seemed to inherit from my father’s side of the family was height. Hailey was short.

  Physical appearance is where the similarities between her and Mom ended, because Hailey may have looked like Mom, but she acted just like Aunt Laura. The same facial expressions, the same mannerisms, the same witty comebacks; the girl was the essence of our aunt. Hailey was a combination of both my Mother and Aunt. This is something that my Dad, Uncle, and myself have often wondered was a good thing.

  After Aunt Laura graduated high school, she stayed home with Hailey during the day and picked me up after school in the afternoons. Maybe all that quality time was where she gets it from. I’m told Hailey’s potty-training days were quite the experience.

  “I’m telling.”

  Hailey’s voice interrupted my thoughts.

  “Telling? On what?” I asked.

  ‘That you were listening,” she said, adding a certain younger sister emphasis to the word you.

  “I couldn’t really hear anything,” I answered honestly.

  She seemed skeptical.

  “What did you hear?” she asked.

  “If I tell you, you can’t go tattle on me. Deal?”

  She nodded.

  “They were talking about the cabin. I’m not sure why. I couldn’t really hear them through the wall,” I told her.

  I decided to leave out the part about leaving and it not being safe. And Mom’s crying. No sense in sending my sister into a panic. The women of our family were notorious for jumping to conclusions. Not just any conclusions either, but the worst possible scenario conclusions.

  “That’s it?” she asked, disappointed with the information I gave her.

  “Yep.”

  “That’s dumb,” she said with frustration in her voice.

  She turned back to her toys and music, shoving the ear buds back into her ears. I watched as she plopped down and began to play again.

  I heard a door open downstairs.

  Leaving Hailey, I ran out into the hall to the edge of the stairs. I leaned over the banister, listening. I heard footsteps and the sniffling of what I assumed was still my mother. I waited a minute before calling out.

  “Can we come down?”

  There was a Moment’s pause before I received any response.

  “Yes, CJ,” my Dad said. “I need your help.”

  I made my way down the stairs quickly, but slowed myself as I reached the bottom, to avoid seeming eager. Most of all, I just wanted to know what was going on. I hated being in the dark.

  My father stood near the bottom of the steps waiting for me. Like I said earlier, Hailey received her height from his side of the family. I, on the other hand, somehow received my maternal grandfather’s stature. I wasn’t taller than Dad yet, but it wouldn’t be too long. Maybe next year I’ll finally inch him over him.

  But now, even as I stood on the bottom step, my Dad seemed to tower over me. The look on his face was one of concern, a look he reserved mostly for serious situations. He had his arms folded across his chest. Before I was born and shortly after, he was an Army Ranger. His appearance hasn’t changed much since then, with the exception of letting his “high and tight” grow out and putting on a little extra weight from not being as active as he was. I guess when you stop running and jumping out of helicopters, your body tends to slow down a little.

  He smiled at me when I reached the ground level, but it seemed forced through his set jaw line. It was as if he was trying to smile for my sake. I rarely saw my father worry, so his stance really began to work a number on my imagination.

  What would have Dad so worried? I thought.

  His Ranger days were now well behind him, and Dad found himself in a slightly different line of work.

  He was a pastor.

  Well, Assistant-Pastor, if you want to be technical, but from what I overheard, they share the workload pretty evenly. It was more of just a title, than anything; they were both full-fledged pastors.

  During his service, my father became a believer and surrendered to the call of ministry. He attended seminary, once finished with the Rangers, and began working on a degree in pastoral ministry. Not too long after graduating, we moved to Florida where he worked as a youth pastor, but after a few years, we moved back home to Savannah. He helped plant a small church in Pooler, a small town outside of Savannah, where he currently works.

  My father was one of the strongest Christians I knew. He was always teaching me about God and His characteristics. To be honest, it sometimes got a little annoying on how my Dad always had a way pointing things to Jesus, but at the same time, I knew he was right.

  Dad was always talking to me about God’s supremacy over all things. How no matter how bad things got, God was in control. There was never a thing that was outside of His reach and power. This was the reason why Dad never worried. This was the reason why when crap went down, Dad played it cool and kept everything together.

  And that was the reason why I was so scared that he was worried.

  ***

  “What is it Dad? What’s going on?” I asked.

  “Come with me,” he replied, ignoring my questions.

  He led me into their bedroom, where Mom was sitting on the bed. She had her back turned to me, but she was talking on her phone. I could hear her nose sniffle from the crying. I also noticed my Dad’s pistol sitting on his nightstand.

  As we pa
ssed the bed going towards the bathroom, I overheard my Mom talking to my grandparents. They were on their way here and they had Aunt Laura with them. This information was strange, because they hardly ever came out to our house, especially on a weeknight. They lived about 45 minutes away, clear on the other side of Savannah.

  My Dad walked into the bathroom and into their adjoining walk-in closet. Clothes had been pulled out and piled on the floor. While my parents weren’t known for keeping their closet clean, I knew this was messier than usual. Aunt Laura might have a cow because she just helped my Mom reorganize this a month ago. Dad stopped right past the door and turned to his left.

  Now I was really worried.

  He had taken me to the gun safe.

  He opened it after punching in the four-digit passcode and began pulling out our guns. I watched as he pulled the two hunting rifles, a Savage .308 heavy barrel and the Ruger .45 carbine. Next was my late great-grandfather’s 12 ga. double barrel shotgun, which had seen better days but was still fun to shoot. Then came some of our “heavier artillery.” Dad set out the Romanian AK-47 and his DMPS 5.56 AR-15 from the gun safe. Lastly, he pulled out my .22 rimfire rifle and handed it to me. The look on his face was solemn and focused. He knelt down to my level and looked me in the eyes. He always did that when he was about to say something important.

  “CJ,” he started. “Something is going on, and we’re going to have to leave the house. We are going to head out to the cabin and hang out there for a few days. I want you to take your .22, go upstairs, and get you and your sister packed for at least three weeks. Clothes, toothbrushes, shoes, and belts, anything you have to have. Son, leave the toys. Your sister can bring a few, but I’m going to need you to leave your’s. Go and get this done. Quick.”

  I nodded slowly, processing my father’s requests, then threw the .22’s strap over my shoulder and turned to walk back upstairs. As I got to the bathroom’s door, I heard my Dad say my name one more time. I turned to look back at him.