Surviving The Zombie Apocalypse (Book 1): Sanctuary (2 page)

Anyway,
after finishing and putting the dishes in the sink, I again peeked out the
windows and spotted one of my neighbors. I’m a bit ashamed to say that I have
no idea what his name was. We hadn’t really talked, other than saying hello in
passing, but then he’d only moved in a few months earlier. Now he was on the
lawn, his front door wide open – it had been closed the last time I looked –
shambling about. Like all zombies, he moved with short, awkward steps, not
stumbling or falling, but certainly lacking any sort of grace.

What I
found most disturbing was his general appearance. He looked like a normal human
being. There were no marks on him, no injuries, nothing to indicate he was dead
save his behavior and the glazed look. I noticed that right from the start. Along
with the funny gait, all of them have a weird grayish film over their eyes,
reminiscent of a thick layer of mucus. Less important, but still blatant, was
the fact he was wearing a very tacky set of blue pajamas.

I then
checked and double checked my guns – I owned quite a few – and kept a look out
through the windows. More zombies appeared. A few even set foot in my driveway,
but none approached the door or the windows. I had initially thought to stay in
the house, but I began to think it might be best if I relocated to a less
crowded region of the country. Fortunately, they didn’t know I was there, so I
had time to make some plans.

*
* *

It was
just before sunset when I finally saw a living, breathing person, three of them
in fact. A pickup came barreling down the road, bouncing off curbs and parked
cars, with two men sitting in the back, both of whom were holding rifles. It
ran down one zombie, a woman in a silk nightgown – most of the zombies were
wearing whatever they slept in, meaning a good percentage were completely nude
– which turned out to be a less than optimal strategy. The body was crushed and
mangled, quite extensively, but the impact also dented the front of the truck.
Something important was damaged, and the engine smoked and sputtered briefly
before it died. It reminded me of the time a deer leapt in front me, resulting
in the near destruction of the rental car I was driving.

The men
got out and promptly began arguing. I decided then that I would stay put and
offer no assistance, nor would I allow them to take shelter inside my house.
They did not appear rational, and judging from the bottle the driver was
holding, along with their tendency to sway back and forth, they were somewhat
intoxicated. Definitely not the brightest individuals.

They did
react when my neighbor, along with the other zombies in the immediate area,
started closing on them. They began blasting away, hollering, whooping,
yelling, and acting like fools who were having the time of their life. And they
were lousy shots. It might have been the alcohol or a lack of talent. Either
way, most of the rounds they fired missed, and those that hit tended to be in
the torso which did little good. This trio was the polar opposite of what
zombie hunters should be.

I
believe they fired off a hundred bullets within a minute or two and failed to
slay a single zombie, excluding the woman they ran over. Embarrassing. Then
one, the driver I think, had his rifle jam. He began cursing as he fiddled with
it, and a buddy even stopped shooting to help him out. More foolishness. A
zombie approached, undetected, from their rear. Its arms reached out, and,
grabbing the man, it bit deep into the flesh where the neck and shoulder met.
As you all know, or should know by this point, zombies generally target the
nearest piece of exposed skin, meaning a lot of bites are on the arms, face,
and neck.

He
screamed loudly enough that I was able to hear it from where I watched. Then he
collapsed. The companion who had been helping him with the rifle swung it up
and slammed the weapon into the zombie’s face. This knocked the monster back a
few feet. Meanwhile, the third man had turned to see what was happening. He
spent too long watching his friends though, and the zombies reached him. With
their little shambling steps, they moved slightly faster than a normal person
walked. That seems slow, and it is, but even at such a pace it doesn’t take
long to cross a few dozen yards. By the time this fellow realized his extreme
danger, he was encircled. He got it in the neck as well.

The last
of this less than heroic trio attempted to flee, leaving his friends to fend
for themselves. He didn’t get far. Drinking and running isn’t any easier than
drinking and driving. He tripped on the curb, landed in someone’s front yard,
and was swarmed.

I
noticed an interesting thing, something I had not expected. The zombies, unlike
those in popular fiction, did not gorge themselves on the flesh of the living.
Instead, each took one or two substantial bites before wandering off, chewing
thoroughly before swallowing. They appeared sated and had no further interest
in the people around them.

Two of
the idiots survived this initial feeding. They were lying on the ground crying
and begging, barely able to move due to their injuries, but no one came out to
help. I don’t know if anyone, other than myself, even heard them. It was
somewhat creepy. Then their friend, having bled out, rose once more. He spotted
the men and immediately shambled over to feed. I could see no sign of
recognition in his gray filmed eyes, and he never hesitated before biting.

The
other zombies eventually grew hungry once more and returned. I paid even closer
attention to this development and used the clock function on my iPhone to do a
bit of timing. My conclusion was that after feeding, the zombies became
nonviolent for twenty minutes, give or take a few. The time frame was not
uniform. Additionally, when the second zombie hunter died, he reanimated seven
minutes later. That matched the news reports regarding the initial outbreak.

One of
the crew had the further misfortune to not die right away. He lingered on until
sometime after dark, having survived two rounds of feeding, possibly more.
Unable to see what was happening, I went upstairs and barricaded the bedroom
door with a dresser. I could just barely hear the occasional faint cry, but
those didn’t last long. He was gone come morning. I felt some shame at refusing
to help, more for thinking so poorly of them. Still, they were the type that
we, the survivors of this ongoing nightmare, are better off without. It was the
right call.

*
* *

I woke
the next morning to discover the water was out. Being miserably hot and sticky,
a shower would have been so very nice. Instead, I used a damp wash cloth to
wipe the sweat away, not nearly as satisfying. Fortunately, the gas was still
working, and I decided to use up the last of my eggs. After stuffing myself, I
grilled two more steaks. Those could survive several days in the cooler. Then I
went ahead and made all of them. I might as well have something good to eat
before I left.

You see,
I was determined to abandon my home and go someplace safe, or at least safer.
My house, pleasant and comfortable though it was, was not secure and couldn’t
be made so. I had large picture windows, and the rear doors were mostly glass
allowing one to see into the yard. It would take sheets and sheets of plywood
to get it closed up, lumber I did not have and could not obtain. Worse, I
didn’t have the necessary supplies, specifically food and water, to last more
than a month, maybe two. Finally, there was the steadily increasing number of
zombies passing by to consider.

Yes, I
had a plan. Good for me. Unfortunately, I lacked the resources to gather the
information needed to properly develop it. There was no more Internet, at least
that I could access. Power was out, so no television. Nothing on the radio. The
stations were either shut down with the staff gone or dead or their power was
also out, maybe both. Therefore, I had to make decisions based on my gut and
the little I did know.

The
first thing I did was enter the garage and very, very quietly take the back
seat out of my Jeep Wrangler – it was the big four door variety. That took
longer than I expected. I spent a good half hour just reading the manual and
examining the bolts, but I managed to remove it in the end. With the seat gone,
the storage space in the Jeep increased dramatically.

Then I
began sorting through my belongings and boxing stuff up. I won’t list
everything I packed since that would be a bit obsessive compulsive, even for
me, and more than a little tedious for the reader. I did take my laptop and the
external hard drive to my desktop, along with adaptors so I could use and
charge the computer in the car. This meant I had my digital pictures, quite a
few movies, tons of music, some of which was even downloaded legally, and a
bunch of random videos I’d found on the web over the past few years. I also
packed my family photo albums and scrapbooks. I needed something to remind me
of my past. As far as personal items go, I kept it light after that. I took
some of my favorite books, mostly autographed or otherwise rare and valuable,
at least to me, and a few knick knacks from my childhood. I also included an
old antique oil lamp. I had no fuel for it, but that can be made from all sorts
of things including fat from animals, disgusting though the process was. It
might be useful at some point.

For
practical gear, there was clothing. I decided it was prudent to wear long
sleeves, despite the heat, and a denim jacket and jeans at all times when
outside. I was pretty sure a zombie would have trouble biting through fabric
that thick. I packed some gloves as well for the same reason. Of course there
were my guns. I had my Beretta .40 caliber on my hip. I had my Glock .45 in the
slot on the driver’s side door of the Jeep. The other pistols I put in a bag
with extra clips and ammunition, keeping them in the passenger seat. My .22
rifle and 16 gauge double barrel shotgun followed suit. All the bottled water
was taken, along with every can of high calorie, nutritious food in my pantry.
I packed up all the medicine I had, the vitamins, band-aids, pretty much
anything that might help keep me healthy or treat an injury or illness. I even
added an old metal tool box complete with a selection of hammers, small saws,
screw drivers, and so forth that might be good to have around.

Going
back to the less practical, I decided to keep my iPhone. It would probably
never ring again, but there were some fun games on it, in case I felt the
overwhelming need to waste time. The iPod was more useful, being loaded with
around ten thousand songs, fifty audio novels, dozens of audio dramas, and
quite a few movies and videos. Both could be recharged in the Jeep.

*
* *

It was afternoon
by the time I completed my preparations, the process taking longer than I
anticipated. That didn’t matter though. From the start I’d planned on departing
the following morning, at sunrise, in order to maximize the available daylight.
For this practical decision, I am incredibly and eternally grateful. I wouldn’t
have met her otherwise you see. But I’ll get to that in a minute. After
finishing, I sat on the sofa, munching on a T-bone and salad, pondering what
the world was now like. Part of this was morbid curiosity, but theorizing would
also assist in predicting how things would progress and how my plans might be
affected. Additionally, I had nothing better to do.

Regarding
North and South America, the change happened in the middle of the night. A quarter
of the population died and reanimated, largely at home with their families
present. This combination meant there would have been a tremendous number of
attacks, almost immediately. I estimated, meaning guessed, that half the
population was dead or infected before sunrise.

Infected,
that was still a question. At the time I didn’t know if a bite meant certain
death or not. The men in the pickup had been bitten, died from their injuries,
and came back. But did a bite alone mean the person would get sick, die, and
become a zombie? In all the fictional accounts it did, but that was hardly a
guarantee of what would be the case here. Still, I had to assume the worst
until I had evidence to the contrary.

So half
of America was taken out within hours, not good. Then how many more woke and
went outside not knowing of the apocalypse? How many stumbled into the chaos
and fell as a result? It had to be significant. Not everyone checked the news
and Internet first thing when waking up. There would be hundreds of thousands,
millions, who left their home thinking it was just an ordinary day.

With the
power going off there would be even more difficulties. Food and water were the
big ones. A city like New York probably only has enough on hand to feed the
people for a few days, at best. The stores are tiny. Apartments tended to be
small without pantries and having little bitty refrigerators. People shopped
day to day. Even then, without power much of what they did have could not be
stored properly and a lot would go bad. Cars and trucks would still work, but
they wouldn’t be used in a rational, productive manner. No one is going to
think “hey, I need to deliver these canned peaches to the supermarket” when
they’re being chased by flesh eating zombies. Starvation, increased panic, and
rioting would engulf the survivors. There would be more violence and horror.
New York City, any large, dense urban center for that matter, was going to be a
deathtrap. I was definitely heading for a rural area.