Table of Contents
Finite
Foreword
Episode One - - Homeland 1
2
3
4
5
6
7
8
9
10
11
12
Episode Two - - Teething Problems 1
2
3
4
5
Episode Three - - I Watched You Burn 1
2
3
Episode Four - - Rich Man’s Burden 1
2
3
4
5
6
7
8
Episode Five - - Kill Switch 1
Episode Six - - The Breach 1
2
3
4
5
6
7
8
9
Episode Seven - - Bugs in a Jar 1
2
A Road Less Travelled
Episode Eight - - Frailty 1
2
3
4
5
6
7
EVERYTHING DIES
by
T.W. MALPASS
Published by Sericia
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Copyright © T.W. Malpass, 2017
Cover Art: Michael Buxton
Formatting: Guido Henkel
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. This book contains material protected under International and Federal Copyright Laws and Treaties. Any unauthorized reprint or use of this material is prohibited. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system without express written permission from the author/publisher.
Finite
Everything dies.
Even the maggots
and even the flies
that feed on the corpses
and chew out their eyes.
Everything dies.
Even volcanoes
that rumble and rise
to spew out their life fire
into the skies.
Everything dies.
Even your love
and that look of surprise.
Even blind passion,
that’s fear in disguise.
Everything dies.
Excepting the hatred
and all of those lies;
like dark stars collapsing
to dust in the skies.
Everything dies.
Ian Futter.
Foreword
When I decided to write something in a more commercial sub-genre of horror, I spent a long time agonising over whether that should be zombie apocalyptic fiction. Not just because the market seems so saturated with it right now, but because of my own familiarity with the genre. My interest in zombies goes right back to the eighties, when it was much more of a niche.
About twenty years ago, I even attempted to write a series because I was so convinced that a world taken over by zombies would be compelling as an ongoing story. Not only did my idea come a little too soon, it became so mired in focussing on the mental illnesses developed by the survivors due to their isolation and the concept of sharing their world with walking corpses, it was virtually unreadable. It ended up being about a bunch of people who spent most of their time hidden away, slowly going insane and forgetting how to communicate with one another. Although that may be a more accurate depiction of the way in which humans would behave in that situation, believe me, it made for a mind-numbingly boring read.
Everything Dies is an all together different beast, and I don’t mind telling you, it certainly does not reinvent the wheel when it comes to zombie fiction. In fact, it more or less sticks to the tried and trusted tropes of the genre, with a few notable exceptions. What I have tried to do is focus on creating interesting characters that you will care about or even love to hate, but their surroundings will probably act as a warm comfort blanket for avid fans of the reanimated dead.
I was also conscious that while this is indeed an ongoing series, many readers were getting a bit sick of the standard format. These books are written as a collection of episodes instead of traditional chapters. Each episode follows a particular arc and then ends with a hook into the next one – similar to a television show. Rather than the climax of the book ending on a cliff-hanger, it concludes in a way that should satisfy readers who wish to continue with the series and readers who don’t. If you liked the book enough to finish it, but not enough to continue with subsequent entries, you hopefully won’t feel as though you have completely wasted your time.
As always, thank you for joining me on this journey. I do hope you enjoy Everything Dies, and please share your thoughts on it with other readers – good or bad.
Stay classy, San Diego.
T.W. Malpass
Episode One
Homeland
1
Kristin Graham sat on the hill overlooking the east side of camp. She hugged herself as she felt the chill of early morning and wished she’d brought a jacket with her on her trip outside. She had to squint to watch the haze of the new day’s sun creep over the rows of tents to her left – each roof emblazoned with the same logo: ‘FEMA: U.S. DEPARTMENT OF HOMELAND SECURITY.’
The breeze caught a wisp of her blonde hair, blowing it across her face to expose the darker roots beneath. Three soldiers, leaving the confines of the barracks block, caught her eye. She focussed on the one striding out in front, heading towards the transit station. He was dressed in full combat uniform, but unlike the others, he wore a cap instead of a helmet. Kristin got to her feet and hurried down the hill in order to cut him off before he reached the heavily guarded gates of the transit.
When the officer peaked out from under the brim of his cap and saw her coming, he doubled his strides.
‘Sergeant,’ she called. ‘Sergeant Banks.’
Banks turned to face her, his hands firmly clasped behind his back. ‘Good morning to you too, Mrs. Graham.’
‘If I didn’t know better, I’d say you were trying to avoid me, Sergeant.’
‘Now, why would I want to do that?’
Kristin squinted again, placing the edge of her hand over her brow to shield her eyes from the sunlight. ‘Maybe because you still don’t have an answer for me.’
Banks sighed. ‘I’ve got an answer for you – it’s just not the one you want to hear.’
She moved right up to him, purposely taking an extra step to breach his personal space. ‘I just find it a little strange that we have hot running water, TV broadcasts, medical care, yet we have absolutely no contact with the outside world.’
‘This is a contained unit, Ma’am. It’s not connected to the main grid, and your TV ain’t exactly cable. Besides, we have a SAT phone.’
‘Good – you can let me use that.’
Banks shook his head, still enjoying their exchange. ‘Military channels only.’
‘Look, Sergeant. I know you’re not a perennial hard-ass like Spears. You don’t have to pretend to be for my benefit. My parents are two cities away, for C
hrist’s sake.’
‘Like I said, when it’s safe to restore commercial communications, you will be the first of our residents to know.’
Kristin curled her lip in frustration and swivelled her hips to half-turn away from him.
Banks glanced impatiently to the transit gates. ‘Your husband might get a real kick out of you being on his ass all the time, but I don’t appreciate it so much. The rest of the folks in here are already gettin’ whipped up over the food rationing. I haven’t got time for another one of your court hearings, but when the lines are back up, you can make all the calls you want. You can even set the wheels in motion for whatever fancy human rights lawsuit you’ve got planned against the military for keeping you people oppressed and safe. Don’t forget to mention the safe part, will you?’
‘I don’t forget things – occupational hazard.’ Kristin stepped out of his space and started to walk away. ‘I do enjoy our early morning chats.’
‘I’ll bet,’ Banks said. ‘Try not to obsess over it, Mrs. Graham. Enjoy the rest of the day with your family. At least you made it out of the infected zone together.’
Before he set off towards the transit again, she saw the sadness cast a fog over his eyes, and it made her feel a little guilty about their latest exchange. She’d set him up as the antagonist from the moment she’d arrived. He was the mouthpiece for Major Spears, and all he’d given her so far was circumvention. Because of that, she’d never even considered that he might have a family somewhere too. She watched the guards open the armoured gate for him and imagined him sitting in his bunk after lights out, staring at a picture of his wife and children. It was the first time in all the time she had been there – almost three months – that she hadn’t thought of him as just a brick wall she had to bang her head against every day.
The transit entrance clanged shut and Banks disappeared behind the steel bulk of the ATVS and transports. A fresh gust of wind kicked up the dust from the arid ground and Kristin blinked to stop it getting in her eyes. Although they were protected on all four sides by ten foot high perimeter fences and several guard towers, the camp always seemed so exposed in the morning, when most people were still asleep in their tents or containers. At least when the daily routines were in full swing and the kids were out playing, she could just about forget the horrors they had left behind in the infected zones, even if only for a moment at a time.
A patrolling soldier nodded in her direction as he walked by, prompting her to head back to the west side of the camp where the refugee accommodation was situated.
2
Emily’s head hung upside down from the edge of the sofa. The ends of her brown hair skimmed the floor, as she adjusted her eyes to the images on the TV set in the corner of the room. The middle-aged man sitting at the news desk reading the report was dressed in a pale grey suit. The colour of the suit was matched by the flecks in his hair; they reminded her of her daddy.
Reaching up to the sofa cushion, Emily fumbled around for the TV remote. She placed her hand on it and pointed it at the set and hit the volume button to increase the sound. She’d been upside down for so long that the blood had started to rush to her head, reddening her cute bubblegum cheeks. Due to the unusual position she’d adopted, she focussed on the top of the newsreader’s head.
‘President Palmer has pledged to release an unprecedented disaster relief fund to help the country rebuild its damaged infrastructure, it was reported today. This appropriation will allow FEMA to respond to any necessary challenges and aid a rapid recovery, according to a White House spokesman.’ The report then cut to some pre-recorded footage of an aerial shot from a helicopter. It captured an incident unfolding on a road surrounded by woodland. At least twenty armed soldiers were positioned behind two armoured vehicles, pointing their rifles at the line of trees. At the bottom of the screen, the news ticker read ‘Bend, Oregon’. The soldiers seemed to be readying themselves for something, and the same news reporter started to talk over the footage again. ‘Elsewhere, National Guard teams have joined the clean-up operation to isolate and eliminate the outbreak within each confirmed infected zone.’
Emily sighed, struggling to swallow on account of being upside down. ‘This TV is so boring,’ she said. ‘All they ever do is repeat the same stuff.’
Vincent Graham glanced up from the sidebar in the kitchen at the back of their open plan container. ‘That’s just the news for you, honey,’ he said, taking a meagre amount of butter and doing his best to spread it over one slice of toast. He placed the toast on a plate and carried it to his daughter. When he saw her tiny feet poking above the back of the sofa, he gave one of her ankles a tap. ‘Sit up. Your breakfast’s ready.’
She did as he asked and flipped herself the right way up to sit back on the sofa next to her stuffed rabbit toy, its left ear folded over itself like it had been badly chewed on. The young girl took one look at the toast, barely moistened by a knob of butter, and screwed up her nose. ‘Dry toast again? Why can’t I have Fruit Loops for a change?’
‘As soon as the roads are clear and new shipments can get through,’ Vincent said.
Emily looked up at him, rubbing the thighs of her purple onesie. Adopting a matter-of-fact tone, she asked ‘are the monsters blocking them again?’
He wanted to reassure her, but no matter how hard he tried to smile, he couldn’t. ‘I’m afraid so.’
Emily turned her attention back to the news report. The soldiers’ targets had already begun to emerge from the woodland. There were seven of them in total – each one ambling slowly, but with deliberate intent towards the armoured vehicles. ‘General Reiser confirmed that the operation is moving forward with great success and stressed that the military response would remain proportionate,’ the reporter said. On his last word, the soldiers opened fire, tearing into the bodies of the amblers. Some fell immediately. The others took the bullets and kept on coming.
‘I told you not to watch this stuff, Emmy. It will give you nightmares,’ Vincent said. He grabbed the remote from the couch and switched the TV to the blank image of an external channel.
Emily shrugged her shoulders, gnawing away at the corner of her toasted slice of bread. ‘It’s OK, Daddy – I don’t dream anymore.’
Vincent stared down at her for a moment. She didn’t realise he was watching her, and he was glad about it. He feared the look in his eyes would make her feel anything but secure. ‘I’ll put on some cartoons for you instead.’ He walked over to a pile of DVDs next to the TV stand. ‘Which one?’ he asked.
‘Erm, you choose,’ Emily said.
Vincent selected the case at the top of the pile and waved it in her direction. ‘What about Dora the Explorer?’
She shook her head. ‘Nah. I’ve seen it about fifteen times.’
‘You’ve seen all of them about fifteen times.’
Emily threw herself back into the sofa cushion and giggled. ‘Then get me a new one.’
Vincent smiled as he removed the Dora the Explorer disc from its case and slid it into the DVD player, built onto the side of the TV. ‘It’s funny. You never complained about watching them on repeat when we were at home.’
The girl laughed again, flashing both rows of her tiny teeth. There was a gap in the middle of the lower set where one had fallen out. She put her arms around her stuffed bunny and hugged him close as the opening titles of her cartoon began.
Before Vincent could return to the kitchen to tidy up, Emily put the piece of toast in her mouth and tugged at it. It caused her to wince sharply and she dropped it onto her plate, reaching up to the back of her right cheek. ‘Ouch,’ she said, almost bursting into tears.
‘Your tooth again?’ Vincent said.
She nodded, her bottom lip protruding.
‘How much does it hurt on a scale of one to ten?’
‘Seven,’ she murmured.
‘Seven doesn’t sound too good. Daddy will get you another painkiller once you’ve finished your breakfast. Try to chew on the other side of your
mouth for now.’
They both turned as they heard the rattle of the container’s flimsy front door. Kristin stepped inside, still chilled by the early morning breeze.
‘Hey. You didn’t wake me,’ Vincent said.
‘You looked so peaceful. I didn’t want to disturb you,’ she replied.
‘Hey, Mommy!’
When her daughter peered over the top of the sofa, Kristin instantly noticed the way she was frowning and how her cheeks were drooping. ‘Hi, sweetie. What’s wrong?’
Emily responded by pointing to the side of her mouth.
‘That wisdom tooth is giving her some trouble,’ Vincent said.
‘When are we going be able to get her to a dentist, Vincent?’
Vincent walked over to his wife. ‘It said on the bulletin that the military are really pushing them back now.’
‘It has been saying the same thing on the news for the past two weeks, but nothing ever changes,’ Kristin said.
‘Before you go off, remember what I said. Try to focus on the fact that we’re safe and together.’
‘It’s a bit late for that,’ she said, taking off her jacket.
‘Christ, you haven’t been venting at Banks again, have you?’
‘Somebody has to. We’re cut off from the rest of the world with no new information. They rarely have the medical supplies people need, and then there’s the rations.’
‘The supply route will be cleared soon. You’ll see,’ Vincent said.
‘Spears should appoint you as their official spokesman. You sound more convinced than they do.’ Kristin threw her jacket over a chair and headed for the other rooms.
‘Where are you going?’
‘To take a shower,’ she said.
‘Fine. No problem.’ Vincent stood in the middle of the room, deep in thought. Then he smiled and winked at Emily when he realised she was watching him. ‘You’re missing the best bit.’ He gestured towards the cartoon playing on the TV.
Everything Dies [Season One] Page 1