Zombies Ate My Neighbors, Family & Friends - Book 3 (Zombie Apocalypse Z Series)

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Zombies Ate My Neighbors, Family & Friends - Book 3 (Zombie Apocalypse Z Series) Page 1

by Chambliss, J. D.




  A Peek at What’s Inside:

  Chapter 10 -

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Epilogue

  Zombies Ate My Neighbors, Friends & Relatives

  Now What?!

  Zombie Apocalypse Z Series – Book 3: The Remaining Avenge

  J. D. Chambliss

  This is the first part of a three part serialized novel titled: Zombies Ate My Neighbors, Friends & Relatives – Now What? If you've enjoyed this part, feel free to purchase the entire series in Megabook at a discount price here:

  Published by Global Grafx Press, LLC. © 2013

  Copyright © 2013 by J. D. Chambliss

  All Rights Reserved.

  No part of this publication may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including scanning, photocopying, or otherwise without prior written permission of the copyright holder, except by a reviewer who may quote brief passages in a review.

  OTHER BOOKS BY J. D. CHAMBLISS

  Zombies Ate My Neighbors! Now What? Book 1

  Zombies Ate My Neighbors! Now What? – Book 2

  Zombies Ate My Neighbors! Now What? – Book 3

  SAVE BIG * Grab the Entire Zombies Ate My Neighbors! Now What? Series (All Three Books) TODAY

  A Peek at What’s Inside:

  “Other night?” Jamie moved closer to Sarah, kneeling in front of her, and taking her by the hands. “Sarah honey, I need you to tell me something, okay? Did you kill that little boy like Terry said?”

  “Yes, I did,” Sarah nodded. Jamie blinked, she was clearly taken aback.

  “Why?” Amanda asked, moving closer. “Why would you do something like that?”

  “Well, here's the thing,” Sarah said, letting go of Jamie's hands and standing up. “You guessed right when I first came here. I was autistic, mentally retarded, whatever the lingo is these days. It wasn't a fun life, now that I remember it, but back then things were a lot simpler. Then I was bitten, and very slowly, I started become more aware. When Ross found me, I was almost as you see me now.”

  Amber and Jamie were stunned to hear this coming from the mouth of a little girl, but Ross simply laid back on the couch and stared at the ceiling.

  “So you're saying...the bite...cured you?” Amanda asked.

  “It cured me, and it made me better,” Sarah nodded. “I can do things now that I couldn't before. Lots of things. But, that's not important. What is important is that I can see the future. Not very far, but I can see what's going to happen, and I need all of you to listen to me now.”

  “I learned to shut up and listen a long time ago,” Ross said, still staring at the ceiling.

  “In about forty-five seconds everything is going to change. Ross, I know you're a hot head, but I need you to keep to yourself. I need all three of you to live, do you understand? If you don't live, all of this is for nothing.”

  “I don't understand,” Jamie said. “What do you mean everything is going to change?”

  As if on cue, the siren sounded outside, followed by yelling and the sound of footsteps against concrete.

  “I just want you to know,” Sarah spoke quickly, and made her way toward the door, past Amanda and Jamie. “I love you all, I love you so much. I'm sorry it had to end this way.”

  With that, she was gone, out the door before any of them could say another word. She disappeared into the night, her dress trailing behind her, and her feet pounding against pavement until she could no longer be seen.

  ***

  “I want this area secured!” Dunfield shouted to his troops. “Place guards around the entire perimeter, no one in or out!”

  As he stared straight ahead at the Westlake Gated community, he spied a few civilians rushing to the top of the wall, each armed with what appeared to be a hunting rifle.

  “Weapons are not permitted!” Dunfield shouted through a bullhorn from the top of his tank. “Lay down your arms or face the consequences!”

  The two men gave no sign that they were ready to comply. In fact, one actually took aim at Dunfield. Before he could fully bring his rifle to bear however, a man in Dunfield's platoon fired, shooting the man in the head with an M4 round.

  “I love this part!” Dunfield shouted, though not into the bullhorn. “God I wish we could do this every day! Ram the wall!”

  Moments later, they had all but overrun the gated community. It was theirs, or rather, it was Dunfield's. The small community had offered very little resistance, and those who appeared with weapons were quickly put down. Massive lights and generators were deployed around the perimeter, ensuring that the entire community was bathed in white hot light.

  “Get everyone out of the houses!” Dunfield shouted. “I want them up front, here, by this flower garden!”

  It didn't take long to drag all of the people from their homes, not at all. Dunfield's people were efficient, and his rule was ruthless. Not a single man dared to betray him, even if it meant killing women and children. From his vantage point, Dunfield could see virtually everything and continued shouting his orders. He grinned widely as he saw a husband killed simply trying to defend his family. It was just as well, they needed another free woman to pass around. These men had fought well for him, they deserved some sort of reward.

  Within half an hour, all the residents of the gated community had been gathered in front of the flower garden, standing in what was once a parking lot. Dunfield stood on the wall, pacing back and forth with his bullhorn. Every eye was upon him, and every gun was trained on the civilians. One wrong move would mean their death, simple as that. Dunfield was certainly not against killing everyone in the gated community simply for sake of finding Sarah Frost. He needed her, and he was going to find her.

  “My name,” Dunfield shouted into the bullhorn, “is General Marcus Dunfield. I am the current Commander of the United States Military on the Eastern Coast. My word here is law! I don't have a need, nor do I have a desire to kill everyone here, not by a long shot. What I do want, however, is someone you've been harboring here. Her name is Sarah Frost.”

  When he said the words, the people began to look at one another, shrugging and shaking their heads. They had clearly never heard of her.

  “Someone in here knows exactly who I'm talking about,” Dunfield said. “Until that person comes forward and gives me the information I need, I will proceed to kill one of you every ten minutes, starting now.”

  There was an audible gasp, and the crowd began turning left to right, seeking a way out of the situation. Everywhere they turned a gun was still trained on them. There was nowhere to go. As Dunfield prepared to choose his first victim, he stopped short as he watched a young girl in a blue sun dress walk quietly across the front of the crowd.

  “Hello, Marcus,” Sarah said with a slight grin, her pale white face practically illuminated by the row of spotlights. “I hear you've been looking for me.”

  Chapter 10 -

  Folks, this is KHLA Radio reporting to you live from the Ohio River. I'm sorry to report that Major Dunfield's goons have found us and are closing in on our broadcast vehicle as we speak. We'd like to thank our listeners, what's left of them, for sticking with us these last fifteen years, and especially the last few days. We know these are trying times for America, and we appreciate your choice of KHLA for both classic rock, and updates on the zombie apocalypse. Alright Stan, pass me that hunting rifle. Come get some, you bastards! Bring it!

  Major Dunfield strolled onto his ol
d base in the hills near Fort Sill. It had taken nearly four hours to get there, and Dunfield hoped it was worthwhile. The gate closed behind him, and he emerged into an open area, partially a training space, and partially an armory. In the days before the outbreak, they had not had the space, and this particular satellite base had served as an overlook to the area.

  He walked through the yard, which was currently filled with sweating trainees and screaming drill instructors, or at least was passed for drill instructors these days. He'd managed to build quite the army in the absence of the United States government, but it was nowhere near where he wanted yet. No, he still had quite a ways to go.

  The reason for his visit here today was less about nostalgia and more about a cryptic message he'd received from Captain King the day before. It had asked him to come home, but did not specify any particular reason. He shook his head as he walked toward what passed for battalion headquarters here, ready to tear the door off its hinges. As he reached for the metal door handle, a young private jumped in front of him, placing himself between Dunfield and the door.

  “Sir, I cannot allow you to pass, Captain King's orders!”

  Though he was usually known for more cordial responses, he was simply in no mood this time. He reached forward, grabbing the soldier by the arm, and practically threw him three feet out of his way. The soldier crumpled to the ground with an 'oof'. Without a second look, Dunfield pulled open the door and marched in.

  The HQ interior was very familiar to him. In fact, he'd helped to build it more than twenty years ago. The entry featured a reception desk that was almost always unoccupied, and on either side there were hallways leading to different parts of the building. For example, the hallway on the left led to a small supply room and ultimately the records room. There were two smaller offices along the way which had never been filled. To the right, would be Dunfield's office along with the war room, which was an oversized conference room adorned with a table which most people would never be able to afford in their lifetime.

  He took a right and marched down to his office, once again practically tearing the door off the hinges. He was slightly disappointed when he found it empty. He slammed the door and walked down to the war room, this time simply opening the door and peering in. Captain King was at the end of the table, giving Dunfield his best 'death stare'.

  “What in the blue hell is going on?” Dunfield demanded.

  “Seems to me you've lost your focus,” King replied. “You've been chasing phantoms, and forgot all about your true calling.”

  “You're talking about Jack Frost?” Dunfield walked further into the room, placing his hands on the sleek wooden table.

  “Yeah, that's what I'm talking about. You've been using our resources and our time to find this idiot, when he doesn't even matter. Imagine what else you could have accomplished in that time?”

  “I don't have to explain myself to you,” Dunfield said, his face turning three shades of red and his fists clenching.

  “I'm afraid you do,” King replied. “As the second in command here, I've come to realize that the needs of the organization come before your needs. Most definitely before your needs. I'm relieving you of your command. I'm sure I can do a better job here than you ever did.”

  “Are you kidding me?”

  “I wouldn't be here if I were,” King said, with a partial smirk creeping onto his face.

  Without warning, a gunshot rang out inside the chamber. Dunfield lurched forward and checked himself, but he wasn't shot, at least not that he could see. King, however, fell face first onto the conference table, a pool of blood forming around his head.

  Dunfield spun around to see one of his own soldiers standing in the corner of the room brandishing a sidearm, which he secured immediately.

  “Like you say, sir,” the soldier said. “there's no room for deviation from the plan. We're with you, sir.”

  ***

  “Attention ladies, gentlemen, and children!” A man Ross had come to know as Alvin shouted from the top of the wall. “It has come to our attention that ten survivors, human, if any of ya'll were wondering, want to take refuge within our walls. We've checked them over, and they seem to be decent folk. We have the space, and we have the supplies, so we'd like much if ya'll would welcome them into the community nicely.” There seemed to be no objection among the onlookers; after all, they hadn't experienced any sort of food shortage.

  “Alright then, open thar gates!”

  The metal gates creaked open yet again, allowing ten ragged survivors to limp through the gate. All in all there were four women, three men, and three small children. Ross watched them pass indifferently, but Sarah watched with an entirely different interest. A boy, about her age was marching with others in the formation, looking around the compound with both fear and excitement. He was bleach blonde, wearing a blue polo shirt and khaki shorts, though those clothes had clearly seen better days. Outwardly he looked fine, but Sarah sensed something – something terribly wrong. Maybe, it was because she'd been bitten herself, or maybe it was her heightened sense of awareness, but somehow she knew that this boy had been bitten. He was becoming one of them, even if it was happening slowly.

  “Hey,” Amanda said, touching their shoulders. For the first time in her life, Sarah actually jumped in fear rather than recoiling at human touch. “Woah, jumpy much?”

  “Sorry,” Sarah said, turning to face her. “What's up?”

  “I made sandwiches,” Amanda said. “Peanut butter and jelly. Jelly's getting hard to find, so you'd better come fast!”

  The logic was hard to argue with. Jelly WAS getting hard to find in this post-apocalyptic world. The vast majority of it had been spoiled by a lack of refrigeration, and most had simply forgotten how to make it from scratch.

  “I like peanut butter,” Ross shrugged and followed her, taking Sarah's hand. Sarah allowed him to do so, but at the same time she was hesitant to allow herself to get attached to him. Sure, he'd helped her along, and she might not have survived long without him, but she wasn't going to be here much longer, and attachments were a liability. Nevertheless, she followed him back to the apartment.

  Once inside, they sat around Jamie's kitchen table, eating peanut butter and jelly sandwiches. What Ross never bothered to consider in that moment was that these might actually be the last peanut butter and jelly sandwiches he ever ate, considering the direction the world was taking at the moment. They finished eating, and Jamie took Ross to her 'reading room', as that's what she called it, to show him some literature. Amanda went her own way, and Sarah wandered back to her own room, where she sat on the bed, for hours, and hours. Though she was nowhere near the infected boy, she could still sense him. She knew precisely where he was in the complex, and she could feel his movements. Somehow, it elated her to know that he could not do the same with her. He was different, much different.

  Normally, such a long absence would have drawn attention from either Amanda or Jamie, but tonight, for some reason, they chose to leave her alone. As dusk turned into nighttime, she stood from the bed, her stocking feet hitting the floor with a soft thud as she was never quite tall enough to sit with her feet on the carpet.

  She slipped into her tennis shoes and made her way to the kitchen. It was dark at this point, but she knew her way around. On the counter sat a knife block, complete with a butcher knife and a serrated bread knife. She chose the serrated bread knife, though it seemed to be almost half as long as she was. She simply held it against her leg and left via the front door, allowing it to click shut as she made her way into the street under the watchful eye of a full moon. It was a calm night; not a single cricket chirped, and the warm air made it easy to slice through the evening. Each individual pebble buried within the asphalt streets glistened and told a story of a long ago – a time before the world had gone to hell, before the human genome had given way to chaos.

  Sarah walked over these memories and promptly left the road, cutting through backyards, climbing fences, and na
vigating lawn obstacles until she reached her final destination. She'd never seen it on a map, but she was one hundred percent certain that this was the house. It was a small one story home, made from brick, as with the rest of the community. Her senses led her to a window, and as she peered inside, she knew that she was right. It was the young, bleach blonde boy, but he wasn't alone. The light in his room was on, and his parents were tucking him into bed. As Sarah heard voices, she realized the window was actually open and ducked, placing her back against the wall.

  “Goodnight, sweetie,” a woman's voice said, “Everything will be better tomorrow, you'll see.”

  “But mommy, what about grandma and ReRe? Are they coming to?” the boy asked his mother.

  “I'm not sure, hon, I'm really not sure,” The mother might have said she wasn't sure, but her tone of voice told Sarah all she needed to know on that matter.

  “When can we go home?” The little boy asked.

  “We can't go back to our old house,” The boy's father said. “But we'll make this place home, okay? As long as we're together, we're home.”

  “I love you Mommy, I love you Daddy,” The little boy said. His parents kissed him, turned the light off, and left him. Sarah might have felt sorry for the child on some level, but her former condition had done a number on her emotional responses. All she could see was the job, and it was a job that would keep the rest of the community safe, while, at the same time, keep her intact for Jonah. Whenever Jonah decided to arrive, of course.

  Without a second thought, she climbed into the window and crouched on the floor beside the bed. She was pretty agile, and was certain the boy hadn't seen her. She was right. Before he could get a chance however, she jumped onto his bed, straddling his chest and pinning his arms with her knees. At the same time, she clamped his mouth shut using her hand. His eyes immediately flew open, and though he tried to scream, she had made nearly any reaction impossible, save for a bit of leg waving. Setting the knife down, she held her finger to her lips and shushed him.

 

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