Days With The Undead (Book 1) (7 page)

There are also related links to the herds of farm animals that appear to have been targeted by the same people. Now that the community is facing an unknown assailant or assailants, they seem to want to mobilize to counteract something; they just don’t know what…

If only they realized that their unknown assailants were in fact a horde of Undead chipmunks. It’s scary to think that no one will likely know what it was that really attacked those children and the animals. And if they do figure it out, their death will likely follow quickly. Those little Undead things are fast and they don’t look like they’re stopping anytime soon.

I would hate to see them in a highly urbanized setting. They would decimate the population in a matter of hours.

Last night we were absolutely haunted by the images that we witnessed. It was horrible to see all of those small children fall prey to something so sinister. They didn’t even see it coming. The fear that they must have felt in those last moments… It makes me sick to my stomach to think of it. And now each and every one of them is a member of the Undead army, looking for more people to assimilate.

Where did those chipmunks even come from? Tracking the locations of the links, it appears that they came from the west - but everything Undead should be to the northeast of us. Was it possible that there is something starting to the west? If so, will we be able to outrun it or just meet it in the south as it spreads out?

We’re just going to keep moving south and a bit more quickly now knowing what is behind us. Every house, farm, school, church, or building of any kind that we pass makes me think about is the fact that these people could be the next victims of the mass of deadly carcasses. There is a part of you that wants to stop, that wants to warn them all of what is coming; but you know that stopping could potentially mean your own death.

There is no telling how close the swarm is behind us or if they are even moving in the same southerly direction. And there is the potential that the horde is growing larger as more and more chipmunks as well as other small rodents and mammals become infected. The thought chills me to my marrow and fills me with a sense of despair.

The mood in the car has been very somber. None of us really want to talk but the silence is just as depressing as the topics we always come back to. At least I have an out in some ways. I can search the web from my computer and insulate myself from the banter in the car. It’s not that much fun on the Internet, mind you. Let me tell you about what I came across today.

There is a group in Florida that has decided to make a final stand in the Everglades if the Undead ever reach them. Now I’m not that knowledgeable about the Everglades but I know that they are somewhat inhospitable. With the number of dangerous wildlife species living in the waters and on land, I’m not sure it’s the place that I would choose to go. I have heard that there are hunting camps nestled deep in the reserve so it may be safe.

The Undead will eventually find you though if you stop. I believe that with all of my being; nowhere is truly safe. Given that belief, I wonder sometimes why we keep moving. Wouldn’t it be better for us to just pick a place in the countryside somewhere and fortify a house? The problem with that idea is that there are a number of people that haven’t seen the wisdom in getting out of the way of the Undead. It’s hard to know what the correct decision to make in this situation is. In many cases, you’re either damned if you do or conversely damned if you don’t.

I don’t feel much like relating the day to you tonight. Not after describing the events of yesterday to you last night. Or after seeing the videos and photographs on the web. Perhaps it’s time for you to learn about another one of our group. Telling one of our stories might be a bit cathartic for me at this point. A quick step away without actually physically stepping away…

Ben grew up an orphan; a product of the child welfare system. He was bumped around to numerous foster homes and as a result, all he ever dreamt about was escape. Escape from his current room. Escape from his current foster house. Escape from his current city. Escape from his life. He had no family to turn to and very few friends that he would choose to trust.

His love for maps and cartography developed on those dark and lonely days. He would go to his local library and study them for hours. Visit the local planning office to view what used to be in an area and what was planned to sit on top of it in the future.

Knowing that his only way to make a better future for himself was to work as hard as he could in school and make an escape - he did, putting himself through medical school on full scholarships. One would have thought that he might have chosen to be a cartographer but his desire to help people took him in the direction of medicine. Ben was lucky enough to be one of the success stories of the child welfare system.

He was ending a night shift that morning that they brought Brooks VanReit into the Emergency Room at St. Mike’s to be treated. He wasn’t assigned to treat him, so he luckily didn’t have direct contact with Patient Zero before or after his death but he knew that once the corpse reanimated that it was time for him to leave. His view from the nurse’s station only reinforced his desire to get out fast.

Ben tried to talk his partner Kevin, a nurse in the Neonatal Intensive Care Unit, into leaving with him, but there was just no convincing him to leave his post. Besides, at that point there really wasn’t an issue; the word around the rest of the hospital was that a riot had broken out. The alarms were sounding so most of the doctors, nurses and support care workers thought it was best just to stay where they were; out of the fire so to speak.

Knowing that there was no convincing Kevin once his mind was made up, he left his love at the epicenter and rode his bike through the city to their condo. Once there, he collected all of his maps, his compass and his satellite GPS and headed out to the prearranged rally point; Max’s house. He also packed a small bag of essentials; some clothes and his Glock. The gun was a recent gift from Steve, my husband. The two had grown close after Ben had saved Steve’s life a few years ago after getting shot while on duty.

Along the way, he could see the panic starting to build in the streets. People were reacting to the news that someone had died and then seemingly come back to life. Only he wasn’t alive; he was attacking people and then those people were dying, then coming back to life and causing a terrible chain reaction of irreversible events.

On his way to Max’s house, he got a panicked call from Kevin at the hospital. He needed and wanted help to get out; the hospital was under siege from the Undead. How it had happened so quickly, no one alive now really knows.

Ben knew going back was certain death. He also knew that he had given Kevin the opportunity to leave when things were still relatively calm, if not disorganized. Then there was the unknown factor: Ben could go back to save the love of his young life but there was no way to know for certain that once he got to the hospital and then into the Neonatal Intensive Care Unit that Kevin would still be among the living. Forget trying to figure out how he was going to get in there without coming face to face with any number of the Undead.

Ben told Kevin he was coming to get him and then disconnected the call.

He had no intention of going back to save him, to do so was fool hardy and a death sentence; he just knew that he couldn’t say the words out loud.

Ben made it to Max’s in record time.

So please don’t wait until it’s too late. Allow yourself a chance at survival… I wish those of you on a similar journey Godspeed.

Day 11:

We’re starting to more reports on the Internet of the Undead being seen in New York State, Michigan, Ohio, Indiana, and parts of New Jersey. There have also been reports that they are in Quebec and Manitoba. It’s frightening to see how the epidemic is radiating outward from Toronto. It appears to be growing every day. Every hour. And we’re beginning to realize that there is no way that anyone or anything that will be able to stop the Undead.

There have been no reports, and I mean ZERO reports, of any militarized response of any level on any of the news outlets or websites.

Where are they?

Why has no one responded?

What are they waiting for?

You have to ask yourself if it’s possible that they have responded and that things just didn’t go as expected so the Military is covering up what can only be described as an epic failure on American soil… Maybe there isn’t anyone left in the Military to care about that failure. Are they scrambling to mount a secondary defense? It doesn’t help that both Max and Bob are ex-Military. Even they are surprised at the lack of response. No Military, no Police, nothing…

We do have to take into account that we may no longer be travelling through the infected zones but still… Why does it seem like no one is doing anything?

We were stopped late last night by a small town Sheriff’s Department Deputy. He looked young and his face showed how tired he was. I thought it likely that he had stopped us just for something to do. A reason to break up his night so that he didn’t end up falling asleep in his cruiser.

He said his reason for pulling us over was that we were travelling too fast down the major two lane highway that cut through that particular part of the state. The fact that there wasn’t another soul on this road didn’t seem to matter. His flashlight illuminated briefly on each of our faces before he asked Max for his license and the registration for the truck.

Moment of truth: Max’s license was from Ontario which was not a crime, but might be enough to prompt this deputy to make our lives a little more difficult. And then there was the truck… The one we had borrowed in Michigan from the long-term parking facility.

We had no way of knowing if the owner had returned and found the truck missing, making the truck we were currently sitting in officially stolen. And of course there was the fact that the name on the registration would match one of ours, but only if this were a story full of impossible coincidences was that even a possibility.

Max reluctantly handed over the paperwork and as the Deputy’s flashlight panned down to look at it, the light caught the glint of a barrel of a shotgun between the seats. He took a closer look in the truck and saw the arsenal at the ready. He pulled his service revolver and asked us where we were headed. Max was brutally honest and told him as far away from the Undead as possible.

The look on the Deputy’s face was priceless and had the situation been different, it might actually have been comical. I don’t think he knew whether to believe us or arrest us. As the thoughts ran the gamut across his face, the moment that he settled on the actual truth as
the
truth, his entire countenance changed.

In the place of confusion, fear and what I can only describe as loathing took root. You could see that the truth didn’t seem to sit well with the Deputy. He ordered all of us to slowly exit the car one at a time. It was like a standoff in one of those old black and white western movies – there was no way that we were getting out of that car unarmed and he was just as unlikely to lower his weapon.

Even in the face of the truth, it appeared that he was going to try to arrest all of us.

Now, I don’t know why he didn’t use the radio strapped to his shoulder to call for back-up. He just stood there staring at us as if in disbelief of whom he had encountered and what he had been told. Perhaps he still viewed the situation as something that could potentially be viewed as terrorism or worse. You could see the wheels turning in his head; trying to figure out how he was going to get us to surrender when he was clearly outnumbered.

Seconds seemed like hours. He could open fire at any time and wound or kill any one of us. No words passed between us. The silence was deafening.

Until…

It came out of the darkness. There was no betraying scent to give it away. Just the soft whisper of its feet on the ground. And then the blood-curdling screams of the deputy and the panicked shot that barely missed the truck. We heard a thump against the bumper and knew it was time to leave.

Slimy, putrefying hands snaked into the open window almost laying purchase to Max as he turned the truck back on. The surprise of the moment threw all of us off for a second but quickly the handguns and windows all came up. We could still hear the dying screams of the deputy in the still of the night through the closed windows.

With the windows up, we felt a small bit safer. Soon the hands started to smack against the glass of the windows. The noise was unnerving and the slimy hand prints left behind a reminder of what we didn’t want touching us. Our headlights grew dark as they closed in on us in the idling truck.

It was eerie, suddenly not being able to see around you but knowing what was out there in the darkness, surrounding you. I’ve never been someone that felt the effects of claustrophobia but in that moment, in the dark with all of the undead bodies pressing up against the truck; it took a firm grasp on me. As I fought the panic, the sounds of them moving against the metal became louder.

If you’ve never heard those sounds, count yourself lucky.

Max put the truck into gear, thinking that it was time for us to put some distance between us and them. As he pressed down on the accelerator, the truck met with a lot of resistance. How many of them were actually there? The sheer desperation of the situation nurtured the twisting knot of panic growing in my stomach.

I could feel myself fighting it, knowing that if I started to submit to the control of my panic that I wouldn’t be able to regain composure. There was no telling when I would need to calmly react and I couldn’t allow myself to succumb to the panic coursing through my body. Not now, not ever.

Max was gunning the engine but we weren’t going anywhere. Could the Undead really be holding us back this much? Trying a different tactic, Max shifted the gears of the truck into reverse and gunned the accelerator again. We gained a little ground but then met with resistance again. They must have us completely surrounded and there must be a whole heck of a lot of them.