The Seven Cities Saga (Book 0): Survival in the Seven Cities (5 page)

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Authors: Jay Brenham

Tags: #Zombie Apocalypse

BOOK: The Seven Cities Saga (Book 0): Survival in the Seven Cities
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"Well, John, I asked that exact question of Captain Howard this morning when I was given five minutes of exclusive access. He told me that when men and women sign up to serve in the military they know things won't always be convenient. In fact, he told me that in his career he has missed the birth of one of his children, countless holidays, birthdays, and anniversaries so he isn't asking anything of his sailors that he hasn't done himself. Despite the recall, Captain Howard mentioned they are suffering from minimal staffing because many sailors have not come in. The phone lines are down and he thinks many did not get the call. Back to you, John."

Gloria hit the mute button and tried calling her mother but, just as the news had said, the call wouldn't go through. At the bottom of the newscast, new information scrolled across the screen: "Any military personnel who are found to have knowingly ignored the recall order, will be tried in a court-martial for desertion."

Would all of the men and the women in the U.S. military desert their families and go back to whatever base or ship they were assigned to? Was the call to serve their country that strong, when their own families were so close to danger? Gloria didn’t see how it could be. For the rest of the day and that night she kept her door locked. At one point she woke during the night to the sound of two gunshots. She’d stopped checking on Bobby. As long as she left him alone he laid on the bed in a dreamlike daze.

The hours passed with nothing to differentiate them. Sometimes she slept, sometimes she cried, sometimes she watched the news. There was nothing new. Nothing good, anyway. Cities continued to fall apart and news team after news team stopped reporting in amid the chaos.

On the second morning, as Gloria was finishing her breakfast and staring out the crack between the window and the blinds, she saw a man walking down the street, moving slowly.

Something was wrong with him; she could tell from his erratic walk. He was crazy. Or drunk. Later she heard the roar of an engine, followed by a crash. A few minutes later a mass of infected men and women ran by and there was a series of gunshots. At the sound of the gunshots, Bobby began screaming wildly, a sound that only a person ravaged by illness could make.

Gloria tensed, waiting for some of the infected to hear him and come to the house, but no one did.

Finally, the infected cleared the streets, moving onto their next victims. Bobby had been quiet for a while so she went upstairs to check on him. She slowly cracked the door and looked toward the bed, but Bobby wasn't where she’d left him.

The bedpost she’d tied him to was broken. Gloria took a cautious step backward and moved the rake in front of her to deflect Bobby if he came through the door. She had to tie him back up. As she grasped the rake she felt the unfamiliar press of metal against her ring finger. She couldn’t say exactly why she’d put the engagement ring on, but it comforted her knowing that Roger had loved her and that he wouldn’t be forgotten. The ring was a symbol of her family at their happiest.

She pushed the door open slowly with the rake, which made a tiny scratching sound on the wood. The door opened wider but she still didn't see anything. Suddenly Bobby lunged seemingly out of nowhere. She didn’t want to do any permanent damage to her son, no matter how sick he was. She put the rake against his chest and shoved him to the floor.

Bobby scrambled to his feet and charged her again. He had more room to gain speed this time. It was as if every ounce of his energy was devoted to attacking her, and he was surprisingly strong. She aimed for his chest again but he was moving so fast that he pushed her backwards, out of the room. Her foot missed the edge of the stairs and she fell, grabbing the banister to keep herself from falling all the way down.

Bobby lunged after her, but he also stumbled, and thudded down the stairs head first. Gloria pulled herself upright against the railing, automatically worried for her son’s safety. Her motherly instinct quickly vanished when Bobby jumped to his feet and charged back up the stairs toward her. She grabbed the rake, braced herself, and rammed it at Bobby's chest.

I have to get out of this house, she thought. I won’t survive if I stay here with him. In that moment, she knew Bobby would never be her little boy again.

Gloria was still holding him off with the rake but she couldn't stand like this forever. She gave Bobby one last hard shove, turned, and ran into the bedroom, slamming and locking the door shut behind her. Bobby was throwing himself at the flimsy bedroom door. He would break through any second.

Gloria fumbled with the latch on the second story window. She threw the window open and tossed the rake out. Then she put her feet out first and lowered herself as far as she could until she was hanging from the sill. There was a crash as Bobby broke through the door and then she dropped, rolling as she hit the ground.

Moments later, her son tumbled out the window and hit the ground on his side, his arm and shoulder twisting at an odd angle beneath him. Gloria let out a cry at the sight, but grabbed the rake just in case. Bobby was on his feet again, as if he’d felt nothing from the fall.

Gloria screamed. This was not her son. Gripping the rake, she sprinted down the street, still screaming while tears ran down her face. The noise was sure to summon other infected but she couldn't keep the crying in.

Bobby was gaining on her, she attempted to shove him to the ground with the rake but each time it only bought her a few seconds.

As Gloria ran, she knew these would be the last moments of her life, brought to an end by the son she loved. She hoped her mother and daughters could find a way to survive.

 

 

 

 

Thanks for reading
Survival in the Seven Cities
! I hope you enjoyed my story. Reviews really help drive sales for indie authors like me. So if you liked
Survival the Seven Cities
, please leave a review so other readers can connect with my work.

Don’t stop reading! There are two more titles in the series and more to come! If you liked what you read you can get the novella,
Fall of the Seven Cities
, and read more about this infected world. Just follow this link to my Amazon author page http://www.amazon.com/Jay-Brenham/e/B014R4NZT2/ref=sr_ntt_srch_lnk_1?qid=1444302531&sr=1-1.

Visit my website at www.JayBrenham.com to learn about other stories set in the world you just read about and sign up for my email list. When you sign up for my list you’ll be the first to learn about new releases and future content. No spam, I promise.

 

 

Acknowledgments

 

First and foremost, even though this isn’t enough to express the extent of my gratitude, I want to thank my wife. Without her, I would never have been able to make any of my stories publishable.

Thank you to my family for supporting me and, in particular, my mother and father for being good beta readers. C.T.C., thank you for your boundless enthusiasm and for throwing me a launch party.

In no particular order, I would also like to thank:

My childhood friend, Mike, as well as his father, for introducing me to a genre I love. As well as Mike’s mother for pretending not to notice we were watching age inappropriate horror and action movies.

My good friend, Nick, for painstakingly reading what I produce and for volunteering to edit. I hope one day I get to repay the favor.

I owe a significant thank you to my beta readers: Sander, Casey T, Vic, Dave, James S, and my college roommate, M.K.

James Cook, author of the
Surviving the Dead
series, for sharing his pre-publishing checklist with a random fan. His books are a great read and anyone who’s interested in the survival horror genre should check them out.

Sean Platt and Johnny B. Truant, for replying to me when I asked for advice. Their book,
Write, Publish, Repeat
, was a key factor in getting my book finished.

And last but not least, Orson Scott Card, who is my favorite author of all time. When I’d written no more than a single paragraph, I wrote to him asking for advice about feeling self-conscious with my writing. To my surprise, Card wrote back to me and essentially told me to get over myself. That was exactly the kick in the pants I needed.

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