Surviving The Zombie Apocalypse (Book 1): Sanctuary (37 page)

“God,” I
muttered. “Try to keep them busy or something. Distract them if you can. I
don’t know. What about the other injured?”

“Those
bitten are… You know how that goes. No changes on the others.”

“Okay.
By the way Cherie, those who die, even if not bitten, come back.”

Her
voice rose an octave. “What do you mean they come back? We’ve seen other people
die or kill themselves.”

“I know,
but the five who died here, but were never bitten, they came back. It wasn’t
fast like normal. As best I can tell, it took a solid twenty six hours. I can’t
say for certain, but it was a tad more than a full day. They died before sunup
and came back shortly after dawn the day after.”

“So all
those who died and were buried are now zombies stuck under several feet of
dirt. Great. How long do you think it’ll take them to get free?”

“I don’t
know,” I admitted. “Since they don’t rot away and don’t tire, I expect they’ll
get out eventually, might take years or more. Nothing we can do about it. But
all the dead get the brain destroyed before burial from now on.”

“Mary is
jumping up and down wanting to know when you are coming back.”

“About
an hour, maybe two,” I replied. “We have the bodies covered up. We’re just
finishing loading the gear into the last of the cars and trucks.”

“Sounds
good. Fine. Fine. You can have the radio Mary.”

“What’s
up Jacob?” asked the impossibly energetic thirteen year old.

“Exactly
what you heard me tell Cherie.”

“Well,
things here are all a mess. People are crying and crying and complaining. I
should have stayed with you.”

“Picking
up dead bodies for hours on end is not enjoyable, and they tend to be heavy.”

I heard
Cherie say something in the background, but I couldn’t make out the words.

“I am
too strong enough,” protested Mary, addressing the other woman.

“Listen
up Mary. We’ll get back soon. Tell Lois and the others to prepare a big dinner
for tonight. That might help.”

She said
okay, and I cut the connection. It had been backbreaking work. I was exhausted
and needed some downtime to recuperate. At least we’d be able to sprawl out in
a tent tonight, protected by a flimsy six foot high wood fence.

*
* *

“Huh,”
commented Lizzy. “I did not expect this.”

The two
of us had undertaken a final hike around the small lake while Briana and the
others waited at the actual camp site. There hadn’t been much to see at first,
not until we stepped around a thicket of brambles and discovered Julie’s
corpse. Her blank eyes were staring at the sky, the gray film that afflicted
the shambling dead absent. There was a bullet hole in her forehead and another
in her chest, right where her heart would have been had she not been an evil,
crazy bitch lacking one to begin with. The shot appeared to have been from
close to point blank range as well. We could see the powder burns on her
blouse, that and a whole lot of ants that were crawling over her, taking away
little pieces, bit by bit.

“Any
clue as to who killed her?”

“I’d
like to take credit,” said Lizzy, “but I was with you the entire time. You have
her bumped off and not tell me?”

“I don’t
mind her being gone.” I really couldn’t find it within myself to have any
sympathy for the woman. All of that had burned away weeks earlier. “But I had
nothing to do with it. If she’d come back on her own after shooting her
husband, I would have seen that she was dealt with.”

“Tied
her to a tree?”

I
shrugged. “I don’t know if I would have killed her. She was crazy, really
crazy. Oh, she knew what she was doing, but still nuts. I think maybe I would
have driven her a hundred miles south and left her there.”

“Better
to just shoot her. Julie would never have survived on her own.”

“Might
be easier on Michael.”

“No
telling. That kid’s going to be all messed up with what’s happened to his
family, most of the others too.”

Bending
down, I gave the body a cursory search to see if there were any weapons.
Nothing.

“What
are we going to tell people? By that, I mean you.”

Good
question. Julie had been murdered. Well, it could have been self-defense I
suppose, although I found that unlikely. It didn’t matter. We had no way to
prove anything, not even to guess. My head was beginning to hurt.

“We’re
going to say we found her dead and that she’s no longer a threat.” I fired a
shot into the ground. “We’re close enough that Briana and the others would have
heard that. Everyone will assume she was a zombie. Case closed. We won’t even
have to lie, not really.”

“People
might ask for details.”

“Maybe.
Maybe not. Anyway, she’s gone now. Good enough for me.”

I
resisted the urge to spit on her.

“Let’s
head back. I don’t think we’re going to find anything else.”

“Nothing
that tops this,” agreed Lizzy. “If it was anyone else, I’d say let’s take the
time to bury her, but for Julie, nah, let the fucking ants eat her.”

Interlude – Diary

The
diary Briana found provided us with a sliver of valuable information and a
tremendous amount of nonsense, most of which was related to who was dating
whom, which classes were boring – the young woman was still in high school –
what brands were in style, which were to be avoided, and so forth. After
skimming through the entire volume, it was determined that only the final pages
contained anything of interest, namely how this particular individual dealt
with the outbreak and survived the first few days. It was quite detailed, but
the one thing missing was her name.

I
initially considered copying the relevant entries but decided against it. First
of all, the grammar and spelling are horrendous. This girl clearly did not
receive an A in English class, possibly not even a passing grade. She reminded
me somewhat of Nathan in that regard. I could, of course, correct this problem,
but that was a lot of work and I’m not inclined to put forth the effort. It’s
easier and more effective to simply relate the story we drew from her writings.

So, here
is the tale of our nameless, faceless, unknown heroine. It began as with so
many others. She was at home, sound asleep, when the initial change occurred.
The key difference was that she was not attacked during the night. Instead,
upon waking the teenager found the front door ajar and her entire family
missing. She closed and locked the door, not understanding what might be
happening, tried to telephone them to no avail, and eventually turned on the
television.

After
realizing the news stories were indeed factual, the girl began to peer out the
windows, wanting to see for herself. This proved to be a dreadful mistake. She
was quickly spotted by several zombies who assaulted the house. They broke
inside in short order, and the teenager was forced to flee. She managed to grab
her backpack and rush out the back – a few belongings had been packed ahead of
time in case she decided to make a run for it.

She was
blessed to have lived near the outskirts of
Chadron
. The city was overwhelmed almost
immediately, but her position gave her a clear shot into the countryside. One
zombie did get close enough to grab the brim of her baseball cap however. She
was jerked back, nearly losing her footing. Fortunately, it popped off, and she
was able to escape without injury.

*
* *

Shelter
was eventually taken atop a forty foot windmill at a nearby farm. The teen and
her friends had often climbed it in the past, first simply daring one another
to make the summit, but as they grew older it became a place to play and
eventually take boyfriends. While it was a familiar spot, there was no railing
around the small platform, and she barely managed to sleep that first night,
terrified she would roll over and plummet to the ground below.

Exhausted
from running and hiding, along with the lack of any meaningful rest, the girl
was slow to react the following morning. She rose and stretched, catching the
attention of a single zombie in the field below. The thing shambled directly
for the windmill, taking up a position at the base of the ladder. That wasn’t a
good thing, but there was only the one, and the teenager now knew she could
outrun them. She just had to get down without being grabbed.

How to
achieve this was the question, and she wasn’t certain of the best way to
proceed. Pondering the matter, she took a seat and ate a power bar, washing it
down with some warm soda, all the while keeping an eye on the zombie. Then, as
with all us breathers, the need to urinate arose. I’m not sure how she managed
to do this, but since it was in her diary I’ll assume it’s true. At any rate,
she dropped her pants and took a long piss, striking the zombie. Have to love
that.

The
zombie ignored the insult, as if it was capable of anything else, and kept
reaching for her. Then that super tiny piece of intellect in its otherwise
empty head sparked. The thing grabbed hold of the wooden ladder bolted to the
side and tried to climb. To her horror, it made it nearly halfway up before
slipping. The undead villain fell twenty feet and landed in a crumpled heap,
only to rise and try again. This was repeated several times. On its most
successful attempt, it made it nearly three quarters of the way, but the
uncoordinated zombie rarely cleared ten feet.

Finally,
the falls took their toll, and a leg shattered. Unable to walk, it crawled to
the ladder and tried to pull itself up using only its arms but lacked the
strength. Seeing her chance, the teen grabbed her pack and slid it on. Then she
scrambled down the ladder. When she was only a few feet above the zombie, she
jumped to the side, landing poorly on the loose gravel. Before she managed to
get back on her feet, the zombie clasped its hand around her ankle. She
screamed and thrashed, preventing a bite, but it held firm. Then she used her
free foot and kicked the monster in the head as hard as she could. That was
enough for her to pull free.

*
* *

While
preparing to leave from the outset had been brilliant, the young woman’s
execution was rather lackluster. When filling her backpack, she focused on
items like her diary, her iPod, her iPad, her iPhone – I’m sensing a fondness
for Apple products – some power bars, cans of soda and energy drinks, makeup,
extra socks, and sunscreen. There was no bottled water, nor was there any
proper food. She was woefully unprepared, and it took twenty four hours before
she realized this. Staring at a nearby farmhouse, a mile away, she decided to investigate.
It appeared to be unoccupied, but maybe there was someone there who could help.

As it
was, her curiosity went unanswered. She scrambled over a barbed wire fence that
ran between the home and the windmill, ripping her jeans, and made it another
dozen yards before a huge dog came bounding from behind the house. It stared at
her and began to bark. Then another appeared and another. Within seconds there
were six large, snarling canines, and, as if they telepathically agreed, all
simultaneously leapt forward. Certain they intended to tear her apart, she
sprinted back the way she came and dove over the fence.

She
thought to roll in order to break the fall. Instead, her shoulder slammed into
the dirt, and she had lain there gasping, eyes clenched shut. But the animals
did not attack. They didn’t make a sound. Lifting her head, she saw the dogs,
all standing in a line on the opposite side of the barbed wire, staring at her.
It had been terrifying, and the teenager didn’t have the first clue as to what the
animals had been doing. She’d never had any pets of her own.

While
they hadn’t actually harmed her, the girl was hurting. She needed to find a
safe place, get some rest at the very least, but the only possibility was the
windmill, complete with a partially crippled zombie at its base. Nevertheless,
she slowly walked back, stepping around the monster – it had attempted to crawl
after her – and paused beside the ladder. There was a water trough by the base,
and she took a long drink. It was stale, tasting funny, and she soon regretted
her folly. With a seriously upset stomach, she climbed the ladder, took a seat
on the platform, and began writing in her diary.

*
* *

Aside
from a nasty case of diarrhea, which was especially awkward considering her location,
the following night passed without incident. She even managed to sleep a
little. The morning showed the crippled zombie was still down there, still
trying to reach her, but she’d learned to ignore it. The last of her power bars
were eaten, and she finished the soda, tossing an empty can at the zombie,
missing.

Climbing
down and leaping past the monster, same as before minus the embarrassing
tumble, she began to walk toward Bethany’s house, a schoolmate and friend. Her
family’s home was located outside town, the only reason she considered making
the attempt, though close enough that she hadn’t considered trying for it
earlier. Spotting several of the walking dead on the roads, she kept to the
fields and generally moved cross country.

In the
end, she’d been forced to sprint for the house. A group of zombies spotted her
and followed, but she quickly outdistanced them. Reaching the structure near
the rear, she cut around the side and passed through the open front door. It
was slammed closed and locked. Then she called out for Bethany or her parents.
There was no answer. Dejected, she collapsed on the sofa and cried.

That
lasted a while – I have no idea how long – but she eventually pulled herself
together and headed to the kitchen, after carefully closing the curtains to
prevent any zombies from spotting her. There wasn’t much food in the
refrigerator, and some of what was present had already gone bad. There were
cookies though and a loaf of bread along with plenty of peanut butter. Those
were good enough.

Rinsing
it down with more warm soda – the diary noted there was bottled water available
but never mentioned her drinking any – she gave the house a quick search. The
upstairs was empty, and she used a flashlight taken from the pantry to examine
the basement. There was nothing there either, aside from the laundry room in
the corner. That was a recent addition Bethany’s father had made. He’d walled
it off from the rest of the cellar and installed a massive oak door, obtained
for free when a neighboring house was demolished.

She
flipped the antique lock and pulled this open, surprised to see Bethany walking
about in the far corner. The zombie immediately turned and shambled forward.
Our heroine noted the gray filmed eyes and bloodstains on mouth and chin, and
for an instant she froze. It was long enough for Bethany to cross the eight
feet separating them.

The
teenager managed to get free and run back upstairs, but Bethany followed,
slowly chewing. However, the zombie had no further interest in the girl. She just
wandered about, seemingly without purpose, and when she stepped near the front
door, the teenager opened it, shoved Bethany outside, and then locked it again.
This done, she slumped to the floor for a second, well justified bout of tears.
She was certain her friend would come back, possibly with reinforcements, that
she’d attack a second time. This never happened, and it seems the young woman
had no knowledge of the mind blank that occurs when zombies feed.

She did
know what a bite meant. The news reports had been very clear on that. Anyone
who died after being bitten came back, but maybe they were wrong. They could
be. People made mistakes all the time. Or maybe she was immune. That could
happen too.

The sign
was created several hours later, and she placed it in one of the front windows.
The teenager didn’t know if anyone would drive by, or if they would even see it
and stop, but she had to try something. The diary grew more confusing at that
point. The infection and fever that follows a zombie bite were making her
delirious. Still, she never seemed to lose hope that she would somehow live
through this, that she would indeed survive. At least, her writings never lost
hope.