Books of the Dead (Book 1): Sanctuary From The Dead

Sanctuary From The Dead - R. J. Spears

Sanctuary from the Dead

By R.J. Spears

Edited by: J. Ellington Ashton Press Staff

http://jellingtonashton.weebly.com/

Copyright.

R.J. Spears

©2013, R.J. Spears

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, including the cover and photos, 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. All rights reserved.

The characters, places, and events depicted are fictional and do not represent anyone living or dead. All characters depicted are over the age of 18. This is a work of fiction.

PROLOGUE

When the shit hits the fan, you
get to see the true character of the people around you.  The problem is, in most cases it’s the character defects that rise to the surface. They say there are no atheists in foxholes, but I can tell you that when things go south; assholes, idiots, and the-every-man-for-himself types come out of the woodwork.  Some of these people find a way to believe -- real fast.  Maybe even me.

CHAPTER 1
The Horde - Part I

“Joel, we have a horde coming down Waller,” Logan said in a soft voice.  Logan was a member of the warriors, and while he was only a couple years older than me
, he seemed a lot more worldly after a tour of duty in Afghanistan.  War will do that to you, I guess.  Before the Outbreak, the worst action I had seen were schoolyard fights in middle school -- which I usually lost. 

“Pass it on,” he said.

This was how we communicated.  The warriors setup a chain of communication with each person in the chain responsible for communicating with the next.  It was now my job to get to the next link.

As for handling the zombies that roamed into our area, we were able to take out the small packs of the walking dead by cooperating; the individual parts worked together in a well-coordinated sum. 
When a horde came on us, we knew that it was time to go dark and quiet. 

During the first weeks, we were at the church and our defenses weren’t all that strong.  A large group of zombies descended on the area.  They roamed around the exterior of the church for at least an hour, clawing to get in and moaning, before one of the small kids broke and screamed.  That brought the complete focus of the undead on us. 

Unlike us living breathing humans, they have limitless patience.  They never sleep, never take a break, and rarely get distracted.  They clawed and banged outside of the church for hours trying to find any way in, the stench of their decomposing bodies seeping through the walls. 

Our release came about by random chance
. On the second night of the zombie occupation when a car of outsiders took a wrong turn and ended up a block away.  Seeing those headlights, piercing the darkness, the zombies re-directed their hunger onto the car’s occupants thinking of them as a moveable feast.  We easily took care of the few that remained.  It was the longest two days of our lives since the Outbreak. 

Still, the current horde situation was intense.  Zach, the next contact in the chain, had a good lookout position on the third floor on the front of the building.  Prior to the Outbreak, it acted as a Sunday school classroom for the teenagers who attended the church.  The walls were spray painted in a graffiti motif -- John 3:16, the
23rd Psalm
.

“Zach, we have a shitload
of zombies coming down Waller Hill,” I told him.  His face twitched a bit, but he moved off into the church with his message.  I grabbed a pair of binoculars and went to get a better vantage point.  The church had a flat roof which was a bitch to maintain, but made it a great observation post -- giving anyone up there the chance to see in all directions for miles.

This was one of the largest groups in months, at least 200 strong.  It grew bigger still as wandering zombies joined their ranks as the horde moved toward us.  These additions came from the houses and yards and seemed to pop-up out of nowhere.  The individuals melded into the group as they became one stinking, wretched mass of dead and decaying flesh.  Over the months, we had noticed that they had a herd mentality and grouping was second nature. 

I heard the sound of the door open, followed by footsteps coming up behind me.  I turned to see Greg, the leader of the warriors, coming toward me.  As one of the most level-headed members of our warrior group, he became the de facto leader of all security and foraging missions.  If it had to do with protecting us and going outside the walls of the church, everyone deferred to him.  He was an impressive physical specimen, too.  He wasn’t a Greek god, but there was a physical and personal charisma about him that made people look and listen.  He had served in Iraq and knew his way around a shit storm.  Plus his quiet demeanor was also a calming influence when the warriors whipped themselves into a lather.

Standing beside me, he asked, “What do you see?”

“Maybe 200.  A few of the town zombies are joining their parade.”

He exhaled.  My morbid sense of humor stretched people’s patience at times, but I’m sure a psychologist would call it a coping mechanism. 

“This is the largest mob we’ve had in a long time,” he said.

“Yep,” I sa
id.  “What’s the game plan?  We going dark?”

“Unless they veer off down the railroad tracks or some side street, they’ll be on us in ten, maybe fifteen minutes.”  He stopped and rubbed the stubble on his chin.  “Yes, we’ll go dark.  Can you stay up here and monitor them and let us know if they change course?”

“Yes, Herr Commandant,” I said with a half-baked salute.  He gave me a sideways glance, then handed me a walkie-talkie. 

This meant turning off any generators, avoiding any potentially loud noises, and shutting down all light sources before the twilight just in case the horde decided to camp out in the street next to the b
uilding. We also knew to get the small kids to the basement away from any windows. The biggest challenge was keeping them quiet; the youngest just didn’t understand that any noise could make the zombies focus in on us for a long, long time. 

As I watched the horde shamble along, the group flowing in some macabre unison, making their way among the streets littered with abandoned cars, it made me wonder.   “Do you think they’re hungrier now since we are now the minority humanoid population on the planet?”

“I don’t know,” he said.  “Those first days were like a feeding frenzy for them.  I don’t spend a lot of time observing them in any scientific way, but it seems to me that they have slowed down some.  That could be because there are less of us to eat.”  Most of the warriors looked no further than tomorrow, but Greg had proven over time to take a longer view.

“There’s that,” I said.  “Well, with a limited food source, do you think there’s any chance they’ll start to starve and maybe ultimately die out?”

He was quiet for a moment, looking off in the direction of the zombies.  “While it is a possibility, we don’t have the luxury of treating them any other way than they’ll be here forever.”

“That’s a cheery thought,” I said.

“That’s our reality,” he said.  “Keep on watch, I’ve got to head back down.  Let us know the horde’s progress.”

I kept an eye on the zombie parade as it expanded and contracted in width and length as they were squeezed down by the cars on each side of the street.  Some were
spryer than others, but the group as a whole seemed to be moving forward with some sort of collective purpose. 

We had our method now to handle hordes; keep quiet and let them pass.

That system went out the window when a kid on a bike swerved into my view in front of the undead mob and started peddling frantically in our direction like there was no tomorrow.  And for this kid, there might not be.  At best, the kid had just a block or less lead on the horde.  When the horde spotted him, the race was on as they actually seemed to speed up with the chance of a meal now in sight.

“We’ve got a kid on a bike heading our way in front of the horde,” I said into the walkie-talkie.

“What?” Greg asked.

“There’s a kid on bike coming down Waller Street just in front of the horde.”

“Is he a zombie?” another voice asked coming up from behind me.  I turned and saw Logan striding towards me.

“Since when did zombies learn to ride bikes?”  I asked.

“Joel, what’s going on?” Greg asked.

“A kid
is racing ahead of the horde.  I’m guessing he’s coming our way.”

Logan stepped in beside me and held out his hand for the binoculars.  I handed them over not wanting to watch the kid get overrun by the horde.  He spied the kid for a good thirty seconds.

“It’s not a him.  It’s a girl,” Logan said.

“Logan says it’s a girl,” I told Greg.  “So, what are we doing?”

“Leave the walkie with Logan and come down here.”

I passed the walkie-talkie to Logan, relieved to not have the duty of monitoring the horde tracking d
own and devouring a kid.