Surviving The Zombie Apocalypse (Book 2): Conflict (12 page)

“We’ll
come back before dark to check out the house, see if anyone is still around.
Sofie and Mary are right. There might be children, and we can’t just leave
them.”

“Probably
be as crazy as the parents.” Lizzy sat down on the asphalt and began to rub her
ankle. It was swelling up nicely. “Could be supplies we can take, and we know
they have guns. Can’t have too many of those. And if there are any loons in
there, it’d be best to know. Don’t need enemies following us around the country
trying to get even.”

*
* *

I
returned with Tara and Dale. I would have preferred taking Lizzy – we worked
well together and were completely cognizant of one another’s tendencies and
abilities – but with her injury she was pretty much useless for the time being.
We skirted around, through the fields, and drew close enough to peer in the
windows. Nothing was moving, but there were two dead bodies in the front room
and a third in the kitchen. All had been armed, and all were killed by a
cluster of shots to the center of the chest.

The doors
were locked, and it really did appear that there was nobody living inside. The
pools of blood were undisturbed, and it was clear the corpses had not been
touched. The frame shattered easily beneath my kick. The twins darted in and
began to check the house, without my having to say anything. That was nice. I
trailed along behind.

It
turned out there was no one else present, and we hauled the bodies outside,
putting a round in each skull. Then we gave the place another, slightly more
detailed search. Plenty of stuff to take, and we’d be back in the morning for
all of it. Not too much in the way of canned goods, but there were bags of
grain and corn meal, probably from their own farm, lots of preserves, and
several gallon containers of homemade wine. It wasn’t very good, but there was
no reason to leave it behind. With Marcus’s truck, we certainly had the space.

Livestock
was more troublesome. We simply weren’t prepared to take animals with us.
Therefore, the fences were cut and gates opened with the horses and cattle
allowed to wander away. Only the chickens were appropriated. Not sure why I
agreed to this, but there were plenty of small, portable cages in the barn. We
loaded these up and stuck them in Marcus’s truck. It wasn’t hot enough that we
risked the poultry roasting to death inside the trailer, and we were careful to
make sure they got plenty of fresh air, water, and feed. The cursed things
should make it back to the castle more or less intact.

Interlude – Sofie’s Story

Sofie
woke to screaming.

“Huh?”
she murmured, finding it difficult to focus, not an unusual occurrence of late.

The
young woman twisted on the cheap motel bed, reaching for her phone – there was
no clock in the room – and promptly succeeded in knocking over a half empty
bottle of bourbon. That got her attention, and she tumbled to the floor, trying
to reach it before the precious liquid poured forth. Turned out the cap was
screwed on, but she double checked through bleary eyes to be certain. Couldn’t
be wasting the stuff, even if it had come from a discount bin.

There
was a second shriek.

“What
the…”

Dragging
her nude body off the floor, Sofie stumbled to the window and pushed the frayed
curtain to the side. Only, there was nothing to see. Who was making all the
noise? God, the sun was barely even up. Wait. Was that a man in the distance?
With the glare, she could barely tell. No, more than one. Looked like three of
them. A tiny cry left her lips. They had been mutilated. Blood was splattered
over their clothing. Gaping wounds were visible on faces and necks. One had
even been shot. Part of his scalp, along with a piece of his skull, was
dangling. Dangling! What the fuck?

Sofie
backed away, trying to push the horrific sight from her mind. Then the prior
night’s binge decided it was time to incur payment, and she hurried to the
bathroom. The woman was positioned in front of the toilet before she started to
vomit, always a good thing, but her stomach emptied itself faster and more
violently than usual. Finished, she rested her head on both forearms, eyes
tightly shut. Sofie hated looking at them, at the scars. Why hadn’t she learned
to inject between her toes or on her hip sooner?

“Stay
away!”

That
came from outside. Uncertain what to do, curiosity got the better of her, and
Sofie staggered to the door. Using the peephole this time, she watched as those
same three men grabbed a fourth. One tore off a piece of his cheek, revealing
the teeth within. She began to gag a second time but managed to keep it under
control.

“What to
do? What to do?” Sofie was talking to herself. “Too much craziness to stay put.
Gotta get out of here.”

She
began to dress, pulling on her panties. Oh, they were rank. Did she piss
herself at some point? Sofie couldn’t even begin to remember. She grabbed another
pair from her suitcase, along with some clean jeans. A pink T-shirt and her
sneakers completed the ensemble. Wait. Where were her keys? Frantically, Sofie
began to search. Not in her purse, not in the bag. There, on the table. Okay,
she was ready.

Another
quick glance through the peephole showed the victim, severely injured, lying on
his back. He was writhing in pain, tears pouring from his eyes, blood slowly
leaking from fresh wounds. Other than that, it appeared clear. Sofie could
reach her car, get inside, and drive off. That was the plan. Taking a deep
breath, she jerked the door open and rushed out, promptly tripping over a
child’s body.

“Oww!”

She bit
down hard as she struck the concrete sidewalk, her purse slipping from shaky
fingers. Eyes widening, Sofie scrambled after it, desperately reaching. A
zombie shambled from behind a pickup.

“No! Get
that guy! Over there!” Sofie pointed at the unfortunate who’d already been
mauled. “Get him!”

The
thing’s attention had become fixed however, and it rapidly closed the distance.
She managed to get back on her feet and darted out of reach. The zombie shifted
to follow, and more appeared, attracted by her cries. Then the child, the
corpse, stirred and sat up. Sofie began to back away, her gaze alternating
between the things bent on reaching her and the small leather purse lying on
the ground. Survival took precedence, and she ran off.

*
* *

Sofie
spent much of the first day hiding in fields and among the occasional clump of
trees, avoiding the roads. She noticed right off that the zombies seemed to
prefer walking on pavement, and while there were occasional cars to be seen,
Sofie didn’t want to risk getting close enough to wave one down. There was no
guarantee anyone would stop, but the odds of one of those things seeing her was
all but certain.

The
woman also learned what was going on. After putting some distance between
herself and the middle of nowhere motel, Sofie sat down and began to check the
news on her smart phone. It didn’t seem possible, regardless of the fact that
every single source was saying the same thing, and she would have discounted
much of it if not for what she had personally seen. A quick call to her parents
helped with confirmation.

“Sofie!
Where are you? Are you okay?”

“Mom,
I’m fine. Calm down.” Her heart was beating like crazy. “I’m in South Dakota.”

“South
Dakota!”

In the
background she heard her father asking what she was doing there.

“I was
driving to Minneapolis to visit Curtis. Remember? I’m sure I told you about
it.”

“You did
not. Why are you going to see him?”

“Cause,
he’s my friend!” Sofie knew she had no business getting pissed off over
something as insignificant as her parents’ disdain for her choice of
companions, although she’d be the first to admit that Curtis was a bit of a
loser, even if he was fun to hang with. “I’m an adult. I can do what I want.”

“Sofie,
you come home right now.”

“Mom,
you’re in Seattle. Do you have any idea how far away that is?”

She did
not mention that her car was now several miles in the opposite direction and
likely surrounded by walking corpses.

“You
can’t very well stay out there. Now, get…”

The
connection was severed. Sofie immediately tried to call back, but received
nothing but silence. Then a beep indicated she had a text message. It was from
her father explaining that the power just went out. Why was he texting from his
cell phone when he could simply use it to call her? God.

She
entered his number and hit dial.

“Dad,
what’s going on there?”

“Just
lost the lights. Your mom is right Sofie. You need to come home. It’s not safe
out there. They’ve been saying on the news that…”

Again,
the connection vanished, this time permanently.

*
* *

The next
few days were brutal, but Sofie, most fortunately, could recall little of what
happened. By the time the sun was preparing to set, she was lost in a cornfield
with no idea which direction led back to the highway, much less the motel.
Worse, withdrawal was beginning to set in. If only she hadn’t dropped her
purse. What had she been thinking? How could she have been so fucking stupid?

But
exhaustion had taken a toll, and with no way to remedy the situation, Sofie
found herself hiding inside a small shack, curled up in a ball on the rough,
plywood floor. She stayed there for three days, alternating between crying and
screaming, thinking about how much she wanted her purse, with the occasional,
rare thought directed at how it might have been better to not get addicted in
the first place.

She’d
begun using heroin during high school, in an attempt to broaden her perspective
and strengthen her artistic talents, or so she’d told herself at the time.
Sofie still managed to graduate with honors, even walked at graduation while
stoned without anyone knowing, or at least questioning her about it. College
followed, and up until just now, it seemed she would have completed her degree
in art history as well. She knew what she was doing and had a firm grip on her
habit. Rather, she had until she was unexpectedly cut off.

On a
personal note, I think Sofie was fortunate in being forced to go cold turkey.
First of all, drugs are bad. They make people irrational, stupid, and careless.
These are not beneficial traits when there are flesh eating zombies running
around trying to snack on you. Mind you, I don’t particularly care what people
do to themselves – it helps to purify the gene pool when they inevitably
overdose – but I care very much if their predilections interfere with my own
survival. Second, by entering withdrawal early on, and in an isolated location,
Sofie was able to get past it without any zombies coming upon her. The way the
things are always moving and spreading out, the more time that passed the
greater the chance she would have been discovered while helpless.

This
also brings up the question of what happened to all the other users, millions
of them, in the United States. My best guess is that they all went the same way
at some point. Barring a drug trafficker, there can’t have been too many
addicts with a substantial supply on hand, and fewer who might have been
capable of getting any sort of replacement elsewhere. All of the crap they
depended on for their highs would have quickly become unattainable.

*
* *

“You
okay?”

Sofie
managed to shake her head no. Was someone speaking to her, or was this a
delusion?

“Here,
sit down.”

Strong
arms guided her into a van, and someone held a bottle of water to her lips.
Sofie greedily drank it down. She hadn’t drunk anything in over a day, and
before that it had only been water from a creek that was anything but fresh and
clean. The limited part of her mind still operating understood that she was in
bad shape.

“You
weren’t bitten, were you?” asked a woman.

Sofie
shook her head again, thinking that perhaps this was indeed real. “No. Was
lost.” She collapsed, sliding to the floorboards, too weak to move.

“You’re
okay now, so don’t be worrying.” The man was speaking again. “We’re taking you
back to Martin.”

“Martin?”
Her voice was barely a croak. “Who’s Martin?”

“Town
where we live. It’s just a few miles away. You were almost there, on your own.”

“She
almost walked into some of them too,” said the woman.

Sofie
barely registered the comment. She was beyond caring.

*
* *

An
entire week passed before Sofie recovered enough to make sense of her new
surroundings, and a second before she could walk out of the infirmary under her
own power. She had been very close to death, and likely would not have lasted
much longer. Even so, Sofie was anxious to leave. She hated being around sick
people, mostly because they complained all the damn time, but also because it
reminded her of her own problems. You see, the woman was HIV positive.

She
contracted the virus during a party. Normally, Sofie was careful to always have
clean needles on hand, but on this occasion she decided to use what was offered
rather than going out to her car for more. Laziness fueled by an inordinate
amount of liquor did her in. Or, it could have been during a string of one
night stands in her sophomore year at college, the majority of which were
spontaneous and unprotected. It had not been one of the more dignified periods
of her existence.

The
truth was that Sofie couldn’t say for certain how she got sick. She only found
out following standard blood work to check her liver, ailments of that nature
running in the family. She was devastated when the doctor pulled her into his
office, sat her down, and told her what he’d discovered.

Depression
bloomed, and Sofie found herself using heroin more and more. Then she finally,
and unexpectedly, got a grip on her emotions and calmed down. She didn’t have
AIDS yet, and everything was under control. She might even manage to live a
long, good life. Plenty of people were doing so with the new drugs they kept
coming out with. There was even the chance that a cure would eventually be
found. Sofie never told anyone of her diagnosis, most especially her parents.

Yet,
everything had now changed. The world was in tatters. The dead were walking.
There would be no new drugs, not in her lifetime, and when her immune system
started breaking down there would likely be none of the old for her to take.
She might find a few AIDS drugs somewhere, hopefully not expired, but Sofie
didn’t know dosages or types. She had no doctor to evaluate her condition –
this same miserable theme keeps replaying itself over and over – nor did she
know of any half measures she could take on her own, assuming such things even
existed.

Sofie
had always been very careful not to get anyone else infected. The sex ended
completely, being replaced by a variety of vibrators, and she became extremely
diligent in how she disposed of her used needles. But there were problems
beyond that. There was all the heavy work everyone was doing in Martin. People
were building, doing construction, and there was no shortage of cuts, scrapes,
and bleeding. When she recovered fully they would expect her to help out. What
would happen then?

*
* *

“Are you
Marcus?”