Nuclear Undead (Book 1): Wake the Dead

by McConnell, N. J.

  “Yeah, I know it.” replied my dad in frustration. “ Have you seen anything that looked like it might work?”

  “Well, there’s an RV storage place a couple miles back that might be the ticket.” answered Pete. “There’s a fence around it, but the place has a lot of buildings to check out. Do you think we have enough time left before dark?”

  Dad thought about it for a moment, then replied, “Since it’s a storage place, there’s probably only a caretaker around, so yeah, we should be able to do it if we split up.”

  We turned executed U-turns and drove back towards the storage buildings. Pete was right. In fact, there are already trailers parked on the property as well as five orange colored storage units and an office. One of the buildings had large bays built to store travel trailers. The fence followed the property line, but it was only made from barbed wire and didn’t look to be much of a deterrent against humans or zombies. We couldn’t rely on it. It was getting close to dark though, so we had to take whatever we could find at this point.

  The men started to split up, but this time I walked up and offered to go. My dad wasn’t happy about the idea. I understood that. He didn’t want to put his daughter in danger. I wanted to go and do my part, though. How could I ever take care of myself if I never had the opportunity to try? What if something happened to the men when they were clearing a building? We’d be in a terrible mess then.

  Pete talked my dad into permitting me to join them by employing the same argument that I was making. With that done, we split up in groups. Dad kept me with him, which wasn’t surprising. Jason and Pete paired off with Greg.

  I know that Dad is just trying to protect me, but after all, he’s the one who trained me to shoot, fight, drive, work on cars and all the other “guy” stuff. Why did he teach me all of this if he didn’t expect me to use these abilities? I have more combat ready skills than almost anyone else in the group. The only difference is that I’m female, which never bothered Dad before, and I’m his daughter, which is the real reason behind his hesitancy.

  Maybe what has him frightened is that there are zombies out there and that changes things. After all, if you’re fighting a person and they scratch or bite you, the worse that can happen is you get a few stitches and a tetanus shot or antibiotics. If a zombie does it, you turn and die. There’s really no comparison when you think about it that way. I understand that he’s afraid, but like I said before, if something happens to Dad and Pete one day and I haven’t been doing this with them, I’d have no idea what to look for when entering the buildings or how to react. I’ve had absolutely no experience in dealing with zombies since the outbreak began. I haven’t even seen one of the ghouls up close and personal.

  Pete and Greg were checking the office and our job is opening and clearing the storage units. Dad and I stood back with our weapons at the ready while Jason quickly opened the door and stepped backwards out of the way. This means that we’ll have to use a bolt cutter to bust the locks open. It’s not that we’re expecting undead to be holed up in a locked unit, but we can’t be too careful. Who knows if a family member might have locked someone inside because they couldn’t force themselves to kill them, but wanted to keep them safe?

  More importantly, we were breaking into the units to search for more supplies we can store in the lower compartments of the coaches. Who knows what we might find in there?

  In the first building, we didn’t find any anything living – or dead – but we hit on a motherload of supplies that would come in handy. Two of the units that were placed side by side held enough weaponry to fill an armory. There was everything from hand guns and melee weapons to rocket launchers and grenades. Kevlar vests and riot shields were hanging along the wall. We talked it over and assumed that this was where the local national guard stored some of their supplies for the weekend warriors. If not, whoever rented this unit was one scary son of a gun. I had to wonder if they survived the outbreak and would be coming for their things.

  We found all sorts of junk in the units such as old furniture, clothing, a collection of old National Geographic magazines stacked up to the wall and so on, but most of it so far was unusable. We lucked out with the next one and stumbled onto another a space filled with Snap-On and Craftsman tools in those fancy boxes you see at the garages with all the drawers that pull out. I can only imagine why someone would buy all those tools and then store them unused like this, but we’ll never know the reason. The owner is most likely dead by now or walking around in the night looking for people to feast on.

  We eventually worked our way down to the building where people stored their recreational vehicles. Four out of ten units were filled with trailers, but the other six were empty and could be used. The only issue once we got inside is that we’d be separated by walls and unable to speak except through the CB radio, but that wasn’t a certainty because there would be walls blocking the signal. I’m not sure that I like that idea and just thinking about it began to make me feel claustrophobic. So far we’ve slept inside large buildings where we could walk around and talk, eat and socialize together. Tonight we’ll be trapped. It’s too late to leave and find another place for the night, though.

  When Pete and Greg met back up with us, we filled them in on what we found and they began working out where to put everything. Sure, there’s plenty of space in the storage compartments, but who wants to sleep on top of grenades? We could leave the treasure trove and be on our way in the morning, but we might not ever come across something like this again. If we wanted to keep our find, we needed to find another way to transport the supplies.

  “Dad, why don’t we just find an 18 wheeler to hook up to that trailer over there” I pointed at the corner of the property where an empty trailer sat, “and we can fill the back of it with whatever we want. That way, we can pick up as much stuff along the way there without worrying about how much space we have to transport it.”

  Dad ran his hands through his hair like he does when he gets nervous and answered, “You know, that just might work. Either one of us can drive the thing.” he said motioning towards Pete. ”We’ll need to modify it like we did the RVs, though in case we meet up with another group that wants to take target practice on us.”

  “Actually, Dad, I want to drive it. Sitting on the sofa watching you drive is boring and I really need something to do. I could even sleep in the cab at night to give you guys some more room.”

  The training that I was given with the police officers when I learned how to do the pit maneuver took place in Drumright, Oklahoma at the Vo-Tech where they teach men and women how to become truck drivers, so while I was there on vacation, I paid the tuition and stayed to take the course. It was hard as hell and taught like boot camp, but I’m proud to say that I earned my Class A CDL.

  He didn’t like the idea one bit. “Well, I don’t think that you should be alone like that. You should be sleeping in the RV. I’ll take the truck.”

  Apparently, his fatherly male side was speaking because he hadn’t thought about it thoroughly. “Dad, you mean you don’t mind Jason and I sleeping in the RV alone?” I asked with an impish smirk as I edged nearer to Jason who turned a lovely shade of red.

  It took him a moment to understand what I was suggesting and then he backtracked. “No, that’s not what I meant.”

  I kept smiling and asked innocently, “What did you mean, then? Do you want to share the bed in the truck with Jason?”

  “No, that’s not what I meant either. Damn it! You always get your way just like your mo---.” He immediately became quiet and now I understood his reason for acting like this. It’s not that he didn’t trust me. Mom had taken the same training and she died without even firing a shot from the gun she carried with her. He couldn’t let go of the only thing he had left.

  I marched over to him and gave him a hug. “Dad, you can’t protect me forever. I’m a big girl now. Yes, I could die tonight or tomorrow. We don’t know either way, but I promise to not take any crazy chances – err,
anymore – and to listen to what you say. I’ll always be careful and stay aware of my surroundings. That’s the best I can do. This is an apocalypse. I think the time for protecting me has come and gone.”

  He pulled me away and held onto my shoulders, looking back and forth into my eyes. “Pumpkin, I know that. I really do. It’s just that you’re all I have left.”

  “I love you, Daddy.” I told him with tears in my eyes. “We’ll get through this. Okay?”

  He hesitated and then took a deep breath, “Okay.”

  Pete patted Dad on the back, “Okay, now if you two are done, I’d like to get these trailers backed into the spaces so I can get me some of Mama’s cooking.”

  Jason did his best to keep a serious expression plastered on his face, but he let out a quiet laugh before he could catch himself and tried to cover it up with a cough.

  “I heard that.” Dad accused.

  It only took about five minutes to back the motor homes into the storage units. We found out right away that there wasn’t enough room to totally extend the slideouts which meant that we would be cramped for the night.

  Pete stood outside and took off his hat, then ran his sleeve across his forehead to wipe away the sweat that was forming. “You reckon we could maybe knock out an opening in the walls that go in between the units so we can at least walk back and forth? I don’t think those are all load bearing walls and something the size of a doorway shouldn’t hurt too awful much.”

  “Might be a good idea.” answered Dad thoughtfully. “If something happened and they were able to make it into one unit, we might have to run into another to escape. It would give us another exit. What do you want to do it with? You think that hammers would work?”

  “Well, it would take some muscle, but it looks like those walls are just drywall over some one by fours, so yeah, we might be able to do it. Question is, can we finish before it gets dark? We only have about an hour.”

  “All we can do is try.”

  The next thirty minutes, we used every tool we could find to make large enough holes to open passageways between the three units that we were in. Dad let me use the metal hammer and he pounded away with a heavy duty lug wrench that they use on large trucks. It didn’t take long to break the drywall down, but the wooden studs were another thing. We finally used a hand saw from the unit with the tools in it to cut through the wood. When we were finished, the results weren’t pretty, but it worked. We still didn’t have enough space to extend the slides all the way, but the sense of claustrophobia was somewhat reduced.

  With only a few minutes to go, Jack and Coco finished pottying and we picked up the evidence so as not to draw attention to our location. At only twenty two minutes until the sun sets, we pulled the doors down and leaned some used mattresses against them to create a noise barrier and add extra protection should we be discovered. We placed tools into the gears again to keep the doors from rolling up since we couldn’t actually lock them from inside. I’m not sure if ghouls even know how to lift a door, but we can’t take chances. Survival is in the details. One mistake can cost a life. So far we’ve been lucky, but that won’t last forever.

  Everyone sat down to a quiet meal in their individual trailers to cut down on noise. We hadn’t seen indications of any zombies on the property, but the fence around it isn’t built to keep out determined undead and as always, we can’t take any chances. We can’t even take showers tonight. Our trailers are sitting too close to the doors and the sound of running water would be easily heard.

  Since there was nothing we could do to unwind before bedtime this night, we just laid down and went to sleep. It was extremely cold tonight and we couldn’t turn on the heat, so the extra blankets we brought from my house came in handy. Somewhere in the night, the sound of banging echoed off of the aluminum doors in front of the unit next to us where Greg and his wife were parked. Dad called over on the radio and in a quiet voice, asked them if they were okay. Greg replied that they were okay for now, but the noise was driving them crazy. The wife and kids were pretty frightened, but they were holding it together and trying hard not to make any sounds. They knew what would happen if the zombies made it inside of the structure.

  We stayed up for the next few hours until the pounding stopped and even after falling asleep, I was restless. The next morning we took the showers that were missed the night before, but we all looked and felt like we had hangovers. This really sucked because normally you at least get to have a fun night on the town before suffering the consequences of your misadventures.

  We opened the bay doors and welcomed the sun inside with open arms. Last night was the first time that they tried to get inside a place where we slept and it was nerve racking. I’m not sure how many creatures were outside, but we were trapped. Even if we had been able to get the doors open without being bitten, our escape was blocked by the mattresses we put there to muffle sounds. This should be the last time that we had to find a place to camp for the night anyway. The map showed that we were only about five hours outside of Harrison, Wyoming. If we keep making good time, we should be in our new place before nightfall.

  I’m not holding my breath. Murphy’s Law still applies in a zombie apocalypse.

  Chapter Twelve

  Home Sweet Ranch

  “Be grateful for the home you have, knowing that at this moment, all you have is all you need.”

  Sarah Ban Breathnach

  Before leaving, we loaded up the storage areas with the supplies we found, but decided that it would only be temporary until we reached Casper which was a sizeable city that should have at least a couple of truck stops where we could appropriate a truck and empty trailer. It was only about a thirty minute drive away from where we were now, so it shouldn’t take us long to reach the town, find a reliable truck and move the supplies into it. If we have any time left over, we’ll hit a couple of places on the way and pick up more supplies.

  We made it to Casper with no problem and found another Flying J Truck Stop right off of I-25. There were a good number of trucks in the parking lot, but some looked like they had been trying to pull out, but never completed their exits. The drivers’ doors were open and the trailers almost jackknifed from the trucks. It was easy to see that the truckers were taken by surprise.

  There were some solid trucks in the lot, but since I was the person driving, I decided on a red Volvo 770. I knew that some of the company trucks are automatic and easier for a barely over five foot woman to drive than a Kenworth or Peterbilt. The other ones are made for men and even if my legs are able to reach the peddles, it’s difficult to see over the extended hoods. No, I’d stick with a Volvo.

  Now’s the hard part. We have to get in and start it up without breaking a window. If the driver turned inside the cab, then I wouldn’t want to sleep there even after we got it outside and killed it. From what Dad and Jason have said, when humans die and became zombies, they do all the normal things that happen to bodies including releasing body fluids like urine and feces. To think that a creature has moved around the cab with that all over them doesn’t make me want to rush inside and set up house anytime soon.

  Dad tried the doors to the cab of the Volvo I pointed out, but they were locked. He banged on the cab, but there was no answer. That could be a good sign. That being done, the next step is the most disgusting. There are dead bodies lying in pieces on the pavement of the lot and since the driver wasn’t inside, chances are that one of them might belong to the driver unless he turned and just shambled away. We just had to search them, find the keys to the Volvo and we were set.

  That sounds easier than it really is. First of all, some of the bodies were beaten to death and some were shot. There was blood and gore all over the place and on the clothing. Dad wouldn’t even let me think about doing this part. He put on a pair of gloves and rifled around in the pockets of three drivers before coming up with what we needed. He took off the gloves quickly and tossed them to the ground. I can’t blame him for not wanting to use them again.


  He poured gas on the keys and then wiped them off with a rap before using them to unlock the driver’s door. After entering the truck’s cab first to make sure that it was safe, he moved over to the passenger seat and I climbed in. The interior was actually in good shape. The driver was a neat freak who made the cab into a home of sorts. There was a small black refrigerator with an ice compartment, a flat screen television with a Blue Ray player, and the bed was neatly made up with matching bedding. The place had a woman’s touch. I have a feeling that the woman in the picture next to the driver’s bed had a say in how the place was done up. It makes me wonder where she is now and if she’s still alive. Too many people have died.

  Getting the truck didn’t take a long time, so I turned and asked Dad something that I’d been thinking about for most of the day. “Why don’t we look through some of these loaded trailers and see if there’s something we can use?”

  A light bulb went off and Dad agreed excitedly. “You know, that’s not a bad idea at all.”

  He opened the passenger door and after making certain it was safe, he climbed down the steps and I followed behind him. We explained to everyone what we had been thinking and they became animated. It was like Christmas all over again.

  The first trailer was full of pet food, which we definitely needed to stock up on, so we wrote it down on the list that Jason was keeping so we could remember which trailer contained what items. The second loaded trailer was full of bedding supplies which we didn’t need right now, but it wouldn’t hurt to have them for the new place. This was a maybe. The next two trailers were full of nonperishable food items.

  “Damn!” said Pete with a whistle. “Wouldja looky here?”

  “We can’t carry all of this in one trailer.” I mumbled, disappointed.

  “Yep, you’re right.” He agreed.

  “What are you two talking about?” asked Dad as he walked up behind us.