“Do you know you’re going to turn into one of those things?”
“Not a hundred percent, but close enough to be pretty sure.”
“Are you willing to risk your life on pretty sure?”
“I’m sure dude.”
“Fuck man, this sucks.” Erik let out an exasperated sigh.
“First let’s find me a weapon, first thing I’m going to do is go kill that little shit that bit me.” Justin said getting to his feet.
Residence of Marcus Leavy - Boulder Canyon Rd.
Saturday 3:57 AM MST
Andrea cautiously walked out of the basement door into the living room holding a black handgun in her right hand. After waking from a much-needed sleep she had been given some happy news when Marcus had informed her that she had left a drawer full of clothes upstairs in the bedroom. Andrea couldn’t think of anything better than getting out of the scrubs she currently adorned that were covered in blood. As she passed through the main living space the only sound filling the room was the scraping and moaning coming from the front door. The sound made all the hairs on her arms and neck stand up. She moved quickly up the stairs to the bedroom and walked inside. She felt a reflex of revulsion ping the back of her throat looking at his bed. She questioned herself now how she could have been attracted to a guy like Marcus. The thought of being with him and what she had let that creep do to her in this very bedroom was enough to make her vomit. This tacky bedroom that was filled with black lacquer and chrome and reeked of his cheap cologne.
Once that feeling faded, she pulled a pair of jeans and a white blouse out of the bottom drawer. She tried to remember Marcus when they had first met. She remembered him as being very charming, and funny. And he was an attractive man. He’s very fit, tall, dark complexion. All the things the little girls dream about. But once the initial charm fades away, what you find beneath is a conceited, self-absorbed child with an over inflated ego.
Passing back through the main living room the sounds of the creatures at the front door again struck her, and she stopped briefly as she saw what she thought to be the frame around the front door giving in a bit. She paused, staring at the front door for a few moments before moving quickly into the basement, opening the door and replacing the security bar.
“Marcus, we need to get out of here. The noise they’re making is going to draw more of them. If enough of them pile up against that door, they will get in, and the front door is already giving way!”
“And they’re gonna keep coming if you keep on hollerin’ like that.” Marcus insisted.
“Fucking Christ Marcus is there a way out of here or not, because I think it’s time to leave. The front door is giving way.” Andrea begins gathering up weapons and ammo, placing them into a large blue duffle bag.
“Of course, there is. Right there.” Marcus points to the back corner where narrow stairwell leads to an exterior door. “So, you’re just going to take off again, huh, fucking figures. You always were a scared little bitch Andrea. And who the fuck told you that you could take my guns and ammunition?”
“Damn it, Marcus. You have way more than you could ever use, and I’m only taking these two.” She held up a shotgun a handgun.
“And how do you expect to pay for those young lady.” He said walking up behind her.
“What, you want money? It won’t do any good out there.” Andrea said, exasperated. Marcus shook his head and raised an eyebrow. Then she saw what he was talking about “You are not thinking about sex right now, are you?”
“Well” Marcus shrugs his shoulders “I was watching you sleeping. You’re just so beautiful Andrea, and it brought back a lot of memories, you know? I miss you baby.”
“You’ve seriously got to be kidding me.” Andrea rubbed her face and turned around continued packing the duffle bag. She chuckled at the thought that came to mind and decided to share it with Marcus. “You know the phrase, not if you were the last man on Earth? I’m sorry Marcus, but after you cheated on me, it made me realize that the Marcus that I fell for was nothing more than a cheap veneer of machismo and overpriced colognes. Once your initial charm wears off there simply isn’t much left to be desired. Perhaps you’ll chose to become a person of depth and character in the wake of this apocalypse.” Andrea looked at the look on his face which was a combination of shock and confusion. “Perhaps not.” Marcus was speechless. He’s been called a lot of names from a lot of different woman, but none had ever explained it quite like that. “I’m leaving. Now, with these guns. If you don’t like it, fucking shoot me.”
“If you go, there’s no getting back in.” He said in a huff.
“I won’t be back.” Andrea Responded. And with that Dr. Andrea Martin throws the bag over her shoulder, checks the clip on the handgun and makes for the basement door. “I would say nice knowing you, but we both know that’s not true. So how about, thanks for the guns, and I’ll see you in the next life.” As she turns to wave a casual goodbye Marcus flips her the bird, so she decides against it. The door swings shut behind her, but she continued talking to him as if he can still hear her. “Maybe you won’t be such an asshole next go around. But I doubt that too.”
Inside Marcus throws the latch on the door quickly behind her. Outside Andrea takes a moment for her eyes to adjust to the darkness. She can still hear the dead moaning, and scratching at the door on the other side of the house, and the sound runs down her spine like nails on a chalkboard.
“BITCH!” can be heard from inside the closed door as she walks up the three stairs to the back yard. All is still and quiet, she creeps around the right side of the house checking around the corner. She moves slowly towards her car trying not to attract any attention.
Nearing her car, she can see the front door. Six of them have gathered at the door now, scratching, banging, pushing, and moaning, constantly moaning. She moves to the car door and opens it as quietly as she can. Glancing to her left she can see another two walking out of the woods.
They see her and begin to run towards her. Their moans change to more of a screech causing every hair on her body to stand on end. She lunges for the front seat throwing the bag across to the passenger seat. She’s hitting the ignition with the key before she’s all the way in. She gets slammed into the seat as one of them runs into the car door, slamming the car door closed. When she recovers from the impact, she locks the door out of instinct, not thinking about the fact that they probably don’t know how to open a car door. She twists the key making the engine roar to life. She slams the car into gear and pushes her foot to the floor. The small compact car spins on the dirt and fishtails out of the driveway leaving the creatures running behind in a wake of dust.
She makes it down from Marcus’ property and had just turned onto the main road when she got her first glance of them. A swarm of hundreds, maybe thousands of them, directly in front of her. A great deal of them turned from the sound of the engine to look directly at her. The front line of the swarm turned and headed straight for her. She pressed down on the gas pedal spun the wheel of the compact car. The wheels spun out and whipped the car to the right knocking over a teenager in a Colorado University t-shirt, and a woman in a baby blue tracksuit.
The road in front of her is congested with walking corpses. She is able to maneuver around the larger groups for the most part, but the car takes significant damage striking pedestrian after pedestrian. By the time she is clear of the group her engine begins to steam.
Andrea presses down on the accelerator lunging headlong into the darkness of night with steam rising from her engine block. The swarm fades off in the distance in her rear-view mirror.
“Please don’t die. Please don’t die.”
Summerville South Carolina
Saturday, August 17th, 5:05 AM
When Nick Henderson awoke the next day, the morning light had just began to peek over the horizon, the birds had begun chirping in the distance, but it was still close to pitch black in the basement. Nick pushed himself off the cold hard baseme
nt floor and stands above his children. They lie only partially covered by the sheet, all were lying in the position that they had been sleeping in. They looked very peaceful. Nick squatted down next to them, his knees cracking as his knees bent. He pulls the sheet back up over his daughter’s faces.
He walks over to the stairs picking up an LED lantern that was sitting on the floor next to his dead wife. When the light flickered on, he got his first good look at his wife’s face. Other than some blood around her mouth her face was unharmed. He tried to look at her and remember his wife. He tried to look at her without anger. He tried to convince himself that her eyes actually looked sad. But they weren’t they were just staring blankly ahead. But he couldn’t see this woman without hatred anymore. His heart was filled with nothing but rage and resentment for the corpse in front of him. Any love that he had for her died the moment he saw his lifeless children on the ground.
Nick takes the lamp and puts his arm through the strap on the top. He turns and walks back to the corner where his daughters lie. He pulls back the sheet and picks up his oldest daughter Molly. Her head falls back as he cradles her in his arms. He steps over Carla and carries his first born up the stairs. He tried the light switch back on the main floor, but the power is out. He looked out onto the street, there was no movement or lights coming from any of the neighboring houses.
He took his daughter Molly into the back yard. The morning sky had erupted in an array of orange and pink. He laid his daughter gently down on the green grass. Fresh morning dew was wetting her blonde hair as it flowed out, intermingling with the bright green blades of grass. Nick ran his hand through her hair and grazed the back of his hand against her cheek.
He repeated the process for Sarah, tears streaming off his cheeks every step of the way. Finally, he returned downstairs to pick up his youngest daughter, Brittany. Stepping over his deceased wife each time he passed. As he walked through the kitchen with his two-year-old her shoe fell off of her foot. He watched it bounce across the tile floor in slow motion. As he bent putting the shoe back on her feet dark circles appeared on her purple dress from the falling tears.
Two hours later he had finished filling three holes were dug in the back yard. The sun had cleared the fence, and Nick’s shirt was coated with sweat. The air was thick and hot, you could already tell it was going to blistering hot by midday. Nick returned to the basement one last time. He grabs Carla’s left ankle and walks up the stairs, dragging the corpse behind him. Her head thudding on each step as she is drug up the stairs. Her arms flopping behind her, her wedding ring caught on a step and cut a gash in her finger. Nick drags the body outside and props the corpse up against the fence next to the freshly dug graves. Nick takes one of the white sheets and impales it on the top of the wooden fence. Nick reaches down and grabs the back of her head. His hand comes away wet and red. He begins writing on the white sheet, returning multiple times for more blood of the back of Carla’s head.
When the sign was finished Nick turned away from his wife, picked up the travel bag that she had gotten together. He put his gun in his shoulder holster and takes one last long look at his girls before turning away from his home forever.
On the fence next to his wife’s uncovered corpse was a large white sign with large red dripping letters that read “MOTHER OF 4, MURDERING COWARD. LOOK UPON THE GRAVES OF YOUR CHILDREN FOR ALL ETERNITY. ROT IN HELL BITCH.”
Stepping out of his front door he could see no movement in either direction. He looked over at his Nissan which was covered in dents from driving through all the people last night. He had serious doubts that it would even start. Nick decided to make his way towards town on foot. Sticking to the alleys and side streets he tried not to draw any attention to himself. Three blocks away he saw a brown sedan that had taken out the power line, the lines were still arcing with power against the car. The driver was leaning against the steering wheel, dried blood encircled his nose and face. Now he understood why the power had been out.
He didn’t know how much ammunition or guns would be left in town, but he had a few possibilities in mind. There were the pawn shops, a hunting store, and if he recalled correctly, there may have been a gun show at the Marriott this weekend. Though if he had a choice he didn’t want to try to go downtown. Thankfully he didn’t have to look long, the hunting store was virtually untouched. Apparently, it all happened so quickly that most people were unable to properly arm themselves.
Inside the store he grabs a shotgun and fills a small bag with ammunition. He exchanges his 9mm for a Beretta .45, and ten boxes of shells. He also takes a small pup tent, sleeping bag, water distillation tablets, waterproof socks and matches, travel cookware and silverware. Everything he could think of for an extended camping trip. And on his way out his final “purchase” A small hatchet sitting in a bin next to the front door.
Outside he could see no movement, and he begins heading back the way he had come. On his way to the hunting store he had seen garbage truck sitting on the side of the road, the driver had apparently been extracted through the window as there is blood running all down the side of the cab. As he passed, he considered it as a possible means of escape. He figured it would take a lot to stop a garbage truck, and a truck like that could probably withstand a lot of small impacts.
The truck was about three blocks away. When he rounded the corner, he saw it at the end of the block, its front end stuck into a chain link fence. He trotted up to the rear end, the tan paint peeling off the back of the truck showing rusting metal beneath. Summerville Sanitation is written on the side of the truck in bright blue happy letters.
Nick climbed into the cab of the garbage truck, extracting the driver on the way, and checked the ignition for keys, but it was empty. Nick jumps down from the cab, first checking the driver, but found nothing.
He spots the keys sitting on the ground next to the front tire. As he reaches out and grabs hold of the keys. He yelps as something from behind him grabs hold of his shirt and starts pulling him upwards. The keys slip from his hand as he tries to spin away from the grasp. He turns to see a young woman, in her twenties, she is wearing a white blouse that is mostly torn from her body and a blue skirt that flared out. Her right arm was covered in blood and was held on only by a thin strip of flesh and some veins. He thought she may have been an attractive woman if not for her lower jaw missing, and her eyes bloodshot with pale retinas. She is trying to bite him even though it’s impossible without a lower jaw. He pulls the hatchet from his belt and buries it into her skull. Falling to the ground her hands continue to make a grasping motion.
Nick retrieves the keys from under the tire and jumps back up into the cab of the garbage truck. He finds the correct key on the ring and starts up the ignition. Driving down Main Street he begins to see people coming out from the buildings and alleyways following the truck. Swerving around disabled cars and pushing a few out of the way his speeds top at twenty miles an hour. He can see dozens of people chasing after the truck now. Turning onto I-26 North it is thankfully mostly clear, he presses down on the accelerator and watches the crowd of undead disappear in his rear-view mirror.
New York City – Ezekiel Baptist Church
Saturday, August 17th, 5:51 AM
Abeline Washington had made the decision to stay in the church where she found the four boys. John, Caleb, Tommy, and Alex sat around her and talked about their lives until about two in the morning before falling asleep one by one. The little one fell out first. The three older boys moved to the other side of the room and to sleep. At some point in the night young Alex had woken up and made his way across the room curling up in Abeline’s bosom. She had woken with the sun and had stood guard over the boys for the last half hour quietly going through the church looking for supplies.
She stopped when she heard movement coming from the other room. Tommy was the first to rise, Abeline was happy for this being that he hadn’t said more than a couple words yesterday.
“Well good morning Thomas.”
&n
bsp; “Um, yea, morning.” He responded avoiding eye contact.
“You sleep okay.”
“Yea.”
“Hungry?”
“Yea.”
“Not much of a conversationalist, are you?”
“No ma’am.” Abeline opened a can of peaches and handed it over along with a plastic Spork. “Thank you.” Tommy began scooping pieces of peach into his mouth. The syrup dripping down his chin.
“You don’t know it yet, but your friends are going to need you, they’re going to need your strength to help keep them together. You have something to teach these boys.”
“How do you know that?” Tommy asked slurping another peach into his mouth.
“The lord speaks to me. He tells me things. He spoke with me in my dreams last night.”
“Really? That’s cool.” Tommy didn’t know how to respond to that, he though it made her seem a little crazy.
“He may have whispered to me that you were really smart, but your friends, they don’t know do they?”
“No Mrs. Abeline.”
“How come you never tell them?” Abeline asked leaning in close to him. He stopped with the spork in his mouth.
“Um. John likes to be in charge. I guess I just keep quiet and let him.”
“Well, why? John doesn’t have all the answers, does he? Maybe if he knew how smart you were, he might seek your counsel”
“Seek your counsel about what?” John chimed in. He had woken up when he heard his names mentioned.” Abeline looked at Tommy waiting for him to respond.
“Well, we were just talking. Mrs. Abeline figured out that I was smarter than I let on most of the time. That, um, if you guys knew I wasn’t a big dumb idiot that you might ask for my help or something.”
“We don’t think you’re dumb Tommy, you’re just so quiet most of the time, sometimes I guess we kind of forget about you.” John said shrugging.
“Well.” Tommy was flushed, his face reddened. He didn’t much like being the center of attention. “I guess I’m here if you need me okay.”
The Z Strain Page 11