The Plague (Book 0): Day Zero
Day Zero
Ryan Cecere
Copyright © 2015 by Rayner Electronics. All rights reserved.
Cover Copyright © 2015 by Rayner Electronics. Cover art by Raymond Harford
No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means without the prior written permission of Rayner Electronics.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or are use fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
Edited by Lexi Kravath
Published by Rayner Electronics
TABLE OF CONTENTS
The Plague
a YouTube series, and to what we have eventually adapted this project into.
Thank you all
!
“Decker Collins”
Monday, October 13, 2014
Five Islands Park, New Rochelle, NY
6:00 p.m.
“Well everything seems to be working fine,” Decker Collins said to himself with excitement, referring to his brand new HD video camera that had arrived in the mail earlier that day. As a film student, Decker recently decided on recording everything that went on in his life. Hey, maybe one day it would turn into a documentary. “Better be fucking working,” he continued, “I didn’t pay seven-hundred and fifty dollars for nothing.”
Decker had been hanging out at the park for the majority of the afternoon with his best-friends, Mike and John, who sat at the bench with him. “Damn, dude, I can’t believe you brought that thing, Decker,” Mike said.
“Yeah, well, why not record everything around me? I mean, I can probably film some pretty cool shit.”
“Yeah, but dude, don’t break that shit.”
John just laughed. “He’s probably going to drop it. You know how he is when he gets drunk.”
“Nah, man. Trust me, there is no way in hell that I will pay over seven-hundred for another one of these.”
“Alright, whatever you say,” Mike replied, shrugging his shoulders. Mike wasn’t much for talking about technology and filming. He enjoyed talking more along the lines of video games, drugs and girls. Same with them all.
A smile crossed John’s face. “Shit, dude, what do you wanna do?”
Decker pulled out a small plastic bag. “You already know, bro.”
“Give me my Loko, mother-fucker,” Mike reached a hand out to obtain the alcoholic beverage that John held.
Decker laughed, “Alright, dude, calm down you alcoholic.”
Decker placed the camera on the bench. All three grabbed their tall cans of alcohol and cracked them open. “I’m going to turn the camera off for now. The battery is dying.
”
John and Mike both replied with an “alright”.
Decker and the guys talked about the latest video games that were coming out—and were currently out—no matter the console. While they got deep into their conversation, they smoked weed and drank all their beer, crumbling the cans up and missing the garbage can. This was the best time to be at the park to do their activities, since families had already left and police didn’t patrol the area as much. The park was mainly patrolled during the night when teenagers and college students would sneak in to have sex, drink and get high. Some even had the idea to go skinny-dipping in the filthy water, ignoring the NO SWIMMING sign.
The three crossed the bridge onto the second island—a smaller island that contained two benches, a fishing spot and a tall oak tree. Under the oak tree, Decker noticed that the boulder that once blocked the way of an iron door that looked like it lead to a secret chamber (or a place homeless people took shelter) had been destroyed. Smaller fragments of rocks were spread out on the ground, and some tumbled down onto the path.
Curiosity filled their bodies, yet none were adventurous enough at the moment to dare the other to check inside—noticing the latch had been broken off. They were too fucked up. Another day, another adventure.
Decker and his friends were unaware that a man in a black suit watched them from the dock on the third island.
By nightfall, the three headed out of Five Islands Park. Decker turned back on his camera, holding onto it with his life, gripped firmly—just in time to witness Mike leaning over the guard rail, coughing.
“You alright, man?” John asked.
Decker mocked him, “He’s gonna puke, bro. I know this fool had too much to drink.”
They arrived at Mike’s building fifteen minutes later—normally the walk is only ten minutes to get there, but most of their time walking involved them stumbling and laughing, slurring their words, and more vomiting. After the three parted ways for the night, Decker began his long walk home on the other side of town.
“God, I’m so fucked up right now…,” Decker slurred into the camera.
Decker recorded himself mostly talking about some stuff in his life and about himself during his walk home. He mentioned how he wanted to become the next Steven Spielberg or even Wes Craven or Michael Bay…eh, maybe not that last one. But he wanted to be one of the big boys, the top dogs in Hollywood. First on his agenda was to make a documentary about his life; followed by working the indie film circuit and finally reaching the top of the ladder with major motion pictures.
Along the way he came across and shot footage of a young couple. The girl was giving her man oral at the bus stop with no care in the world of who saw. Decker chuckled, “And the freaks come out at night.” He whispered, “God, that’s one lucky fuck,” the camera catching slightly what he said.
Two blocks from the bus stop, Decker patted around in his pockets, searching for the pouch containing his bowl.
Crap! Must’ve dropped it back at the park.
He spun around, and headed back past Mike’s apartment, back to the long stretch of road that led into the park—gripping onto the fence for balance, head spinning, nausea setting in.
Decker turned on the camera and began to record a man who was stumbling and twitching just down the road. “This guy must be tripping or something,” he laughed. “I wonder what he’s on.”
The man made an abrupt stop, then jolted his head up—like a bird moves its head—and glared deep into Decker’s eyes
.
Decker paused. “Ummm…”
The man screamed. Saliva spat out of his mouth. He sprinted his way towards Decker.
“What the fuck…? Holy shit!”
Decker turned around, pointing the camera. The man that was chasing him turned his attention suddenly to a homeless guy walking down the street with a shopping cart full of empty bottles; and jumped on top of him. The homeless guy screamed for the attacker to get off him. The attacker dug its hand into the homeless guy’s stomach, pulling out a chunk of organs coated in blood.
Sweat dripped off of Decker’s forehead. He couldn’t just sit back and let the guy die like that.
He put his camera down on the ground and ran over. Decker punted the attacker in the jaw, only to no effect. He threw the attacker to the ground and began beating him with his fists. With everything he had, Decker punched the attacker’s head in, cracking it opened like an egg. Blood covered his bruised knuckles. He exhaled and inhaled rapidly.
Decker went over to check on the homeless guy. His body was lifeless, ripped apart to the point that his ribs and organs were no longer inside his body, but scattered on the ground. Decker bent over, puking everywhere.
He regained most of his composure before picking up his camera. “Oh, my God… Oh, my God,” he panicked. “He’s dead. He’s fucking dead! What the fuck just happened?”
Decker’s petrified expression turned to disbelief and shock as he saw the homeless guy start to stand up. “No way. No way. NO WAY!”
The corpse ran after Decker and tackled him to the ground. The camera glided across the pavement. Decker tangled with the corpse for freedom. Somehow, with a jolt of adrenaline, Decker managed to get on top of the zombie. He grabbed the camera and used it to bash the creature’s head in until it no longer made any movement. With every hit, more and more blood squirted out.
DIE
, Decker screamed with each shot.
“What the fuck is going on…,” his hands shaking.
Decker turned off the camera, unknowing that the first attacker was still alive behind him…
“Roy”
Monday, October 13, 2014
South Bronx, NY
9:23 a.m.
Roy had been nothing more than a low-ranked delivery and pick-up guy for his gang since he first entered the street life at the age of ten. One word described Roy. One powerful word.
Ambitious.
The day was coming where he was going to skip the promotion of Middle-Man and jump start to overthrowing the leader and become the leader himself. After all the years spent being Mr. Errand Boy, Roy learned that loyalty was shit and got you nowhere. To get somewhere you had to be independent and say “Fuck the rest”, stepping on them if needed (which it was). Do things yourself to get far in life.
In his mind, he had all the credentials to be in charge. He coordinated most of the gang’s operations, yet never got the credit he deserved. For years he pictured many different scenarios on how he would take over. One of the first things on his agenda would be to make his partner and best friend Tyrone his second-in-command. Next, he would take over his block, then over time expand into something huge. Something never before done. Something no one would ever see coming, or expect.
Everything was mapped out. It was just a matter of time.
He and Tyrone were parked in their black sedan at the pier awaiting the Italian Arms Dealer.
“Where this nigga at, Roy? We been waiting for like an hour already.”
“Be patient T, he’s only gonna show when he knows there ain’t no po-po around.”
“There ain’t no pigs around…hasn’t been all morning. Is this guy even reliable?”
Roy put his sunglasses on. “That’s what the boss says. Apparently this guy Abruzzi is where we get all our supplies from. Do yourself a favor and make sure you keep eye contact with this nigga. He’s the kinda punk who will cut ya dick off if he thinks you’re disrespecting him in the slightest.”
Tyrone was also ambitious to get Roy as leader of the gang. He admired the smarts Roy had, the vision he had. “When do you think it’ll be your time to run this gang, yo?” Tyrone asked.
“In time, in time.”
By 10:40 a white van made its way toward them. Roy—who was laying back—leaned forward. The van came to a stop ten feet away. Roy patted Tyrone on the arm, signaling to exit.
They were met by two men in suits, both with professional stances. Roy and Tyrone kept their eyes straight. A moment went by before a short Italian man in a white flashy suit with a cane exited and made his way to the thugs. “You must be Roy and Tyrone,” he spoke with a very heavy accent.
“Yeah, we are. You got the supplies?”
Abruzzi smirked. “I like your straight forward style. Follow me.” Abruzzi gestured to his bodyguards to allow them pass. He led them to the back of the van and opened it up. Inside were wooden crates.
“Let us see,” Roy said.
Abruzzi again smirked. Abruzzi opened up the crates. One crate had semi-automatic rifles; another had ammunition; and so on. “Satisfied?”
“My boss will be much satisfied.”
Roy reached in to grab the crates with Tyrone. Abruzzi snatched Roy’s arm. As Tyrone reached for his 9mm, Abruzzi’s men quickly drew theirs. “What are you doin’, man?” Roy shouted.
Abruzzi pointed his finger in Roy’s face, “Tell your boss that this is the last time we are doing business with each other. Tell him I found a new buyer; one that pays a ton of more money. Tell him that if he has a problem with that, then he can come see me face to face, and deal with it.” He then released Roy’s arm.
Roy fixed himself. “Well let me tell you somethin’, Mr. Abruzzi, let’s just say you won’t be needing to deal with my boss any mo’ after today regardless. You want to work something out,” Roy wrote his number down on a piece of paper from his back pocket and handed it over, “you come to me. You feel me?”
Abruzzi crumbled up the paper, flinging it in Roy’s face. “Get the fuck out of my sight, or else you won’t see the light of day ever again. Understood?”
Tyrone took a hold of Roy’s shirt. “Let’s get outta here, Roy.”
Roy stared in Abruzzi’s eyes, not afraid of the consequences. “Your loss old man.” Him and Tyrone loaded up the crates and sped back to their hood. Abruzzi whistled for his men to return him to his office.
10:58 p.m.
Roy and Tyrone dragged the bodies out onto the stairs. The rest of the gang stopped what they were doing, lowering the music and turning their attention to Roy with disbelief. Roy drew his gun, pointing at the three dead bodies.
“Listen up, everyone! Da boss is dead! I killed dat motha-fucka. With that being said, I am your new leader. I’m in charge now. Starting ASAP you will obey everything I say, you will do as told, or else, you join ‘em.” He raised up his arms. “This is a new era for us all. Tomorrow morning we begin reconstruction.”
The gang members talked amongst each other. Roy and Tyrone disappeared back into the building. Roy’s new goons closed the door once they were in, disappearing into the shadows of the paint peeled halls.
