Z Day is Here
Authors: Rob Fox
Tags: #undead, #survivalist adventure, #rob fox, #journal, #zombie, #walking dead, #living dead, #outbreak, #apocalypse, #survival
A PERMUTED PRESS book
Published at Smashwords
ISBN (Trade Paperback): 978-1-61868-357-1
ISBN (eBook): 978-1-61868-356-4
Z-Day Is Here
copyright © 2014
by Rob Fox
All Rights Reserved.
Cover art by Dean Samed, Conzpiracy Digital Arts
This
book
is
a
work
of
fiction
.
People
,
places
,
events
,
and
situations
are
the
product
of
the
author’s
imagination
.
Any
resemblance
to
actual
persons
,
living
or
dead
,
or
historical
events
,
is
purely
coincidental
.
No
part
of
this
book
may
be
reproduced
,
stored
in
a
retrieval
system
,
or
transmitted
by
any
means
without
the
written
permission
of
the
author
and
publisher
.
For my grandparents, who encouraged me to tell
stories by the campfire.
Table of Contents
Scared as hell. That’s about the only way to
describe how I’m feeling. It just happened so fast.
Five days ago, the news came in that a little
boy—Damon Jenkins was his name, I think—was brutally attacked while
traveling in South America with his mother. As the news reported,
Damon was kidnapped, beaten, and left for dead outside of some
Mayan ruins. Some locals found him barely breathing and covered in
bite marks. It was a circus. Every time I turned on the TV, that
damn kid’s face kept popping up. It kind of made me sick. I just
got tired of hearing about him. The next day, news stories came in
that little Damon Jenkins had passed away. The world mourned. The
press blamed it on some strange rabies strain.
It wasn’t until the press conference
announcing the actual news of his death that the world went from
crying over little Damon to hating and fearing him. While the
doctors spoke to the world via a live feed, a single scream could
be heard from inside the hospital. I will never forget that scream.
Over the PA systems and hounding reporters, I could hear a screech
of horror and pain. I was sitting on my couch trying to find
something,
anything
on TV other than that crap ... but that
scream.
Apparently, the guy doing the autopsy was
attacked by a now-undead Damon Jenkins. Rabies. That’s what they
kept saying. Stay calm. Contamination. Quarantine. Over the
following few days, that’s all we heard. Then, no news, except for
scattered rumors here and there. Death everywhere … or undead
everywhere.
That leads us up to today, August 28th. I’m
hidden at my job, a nice stronghold of a building. Nothing can get
in here.
I’m writing this journal for the history
books, so maybe one day, when we are all long gone, the
grandchildren of the survivors will know what happened. Thank God
the Internet is still up. I’ll journal on here as much as I can to
update the world on the status of the uprising.
For now, I have to go scavenge food from the
break room. I hear something on the other side of the door, though.
Shit! I’m starving.
I should have stayed at home. God, I hope my
fiancé is still alive. I’ll try to get to her as soon as I can.
Right now, all I can think about is food. That must be how these
undead bastards feel.
Okay, it's quiet out there now. Wish me
luck.
Well, as you can see from this journal, I
made it!
When I walked out the door—yeah, like I just
walked right out the door! More like crawled out the door like a
wounded puppy scurrying away from his attacker. Anyway, I got out
the "safe" area and slowly made my way down the hall. Nothing!
Silence! Thank God!
As I turned the corner, I just barely
glimpsed the body of my manager. Amanda was her name. She was lying
on the floor just inside her office, a huge chunk missing from her
face. My thoughts went to her kids. She had two really cute kids, a
boy and a girl, I think. Now all I could think about was her kids
being without their mom. Hell, her kids were probably one of them
freaks out there, eating the brains of their father! I knew I hated
kids for a reason. Creepy little bastards.
As I was staring at my manager’s body on the
floor, watching fresh blood trickling down her thin cheek, her
expression so peaceful, I heard a noise behind me. I jumped and
quickly spun around. There was nothing there. It must have been the
wind, I thought. I turned and looked back in the manager’s office,
and to my surprise, Amanda was gone!
There was a pool of blood where I’d last seen
her five seconds ago. How could I have been so stupid?
Movement to my left! I saw her coming at me
from my left side, that slack jaw begging to taste my flesh. I
didn't think; I just dove into the closest office, begging God to
help me. I slipped and fell on the floor. So stupid.
She was still coming after me. Again, I
didn't have time to think, just react. I grabbed the nearest blunt
object I could find. A fish bowl! I’d grabbed a fucking fish bowl!
As she pounced on me, I smelled the stink of her breath as her lips
brushed my neck. I couldn't scream. All I could do was swing the
fish bowl. Bang! Right across her face.
