Zomb-Pocalypse (3 page)

The first body slams off the hood and all three of us scream in unison. My hands are shaking as I rush to buckle my seatbelt. My friend has a crazed expression on her face, and I don't know what to say. What do you say to someone whose parents just died? A knot forms in my throat, I had just spoken to her mother on the phone not even an hour ago.

The Suburban screeches out of the cul-de-sac, and I get my first look at the destruction. The city is in ruin, smoke is filling the air, and the dead are everywhere. The shock of seeing what we are truly dealing with makes me go numb and temporarily pushes the thought of Abby’s parents from my mind. 

"We need to avoid the highways," Megan mutters to herself like a mad woman. We can see the congestion on the freeway for miles.

"Turn left up here." I tell her as we are approaching the turn onto the highway, I want to make sure we don’t accidentally find ourselves in the carnage below. "Where are we going?" I ask, though I'm terrified to hear the answer.

"Out of this hell-hole town," Megan answers me as she cranks the wheel hard to avoid a zombie in the middle of the road.

I wonder why Megan’s here. What happened to Abby's parents, for that matter, what happened to my parents? I can hear Abby's sobs that she can't hold back, and I reach forward and clasp my hand on her shoulder. She reaches up and takes my hand. Her hand is sticky with blood and I almost pull away, but then I catch myself and squeeze back.

The dead are everywhere. As we speed past them it is like seeing frozen tableau's of horror rush by. Blood coats the streets, and the dead stumble around in droves.

"There's a traffic jam up ahead." I let go of Abby's hand and accidentally yell right in Megan's ear. I'm sure she saw it too, but my anxiety is through the roof. I'm having a hard time keeping it together. Abby isn't keeping it together at all and doesn't even bother to look up when I yell. Megan slows for a minute, staring at the gnarled wreck of metal and blood in front of us, it spans both sides of the road involving a jack knifed semi and several vehicles. A zombie comes oozing up to the Suburban and claws at my side window, leaving a trail of blood and little bits of bone fragment in its wake. Megan and I both scream. Abby doesn't even seem to be aware of what's happening at this point.

Megan cranks the wheel hard, and the Suburban bumps as the wheels climb the center meridian. A metal sign scrapes the edge of the vehicle—effectively scraping the zombie off the side mirror where it was clinging. I look back at the bloody heap on the side walk but look away when it starts to writhe and move again. Megan cuts across the oncoming lane, which would normally be a suicide mission, but today there isn't any other traffic. Another shot of adrenaline spikes through my body when she aims the nose of the vehicle towards the ditch and drives down into the grass as she bypasses the accident. It hits me hard in the gut when I take a moment and realize THERE ISNT ANY OTHER TRAFFIC. Where are all the other people? Surely we can't be all that's left?

The wheels begin to spin as we lose traction. It rained last night and the grass is still wet.

"Oh God!" I shriek as the wheels spin and tear up the grass. We have caught the attention of a large group of zombies that begin to climb their way out of the wreckage beside us, where I can only imagine they have been feasting on the bones of their victims.

"What do we do?" Megan screams as she presses the gas pedal and we begin to slide sideways.

Abby seems to wake from her trance for a second. She reaches over and flips the dial on the dash to 4x4. The tires spin one last time before they catch some traction, and then we are moving forward again. I'm so amped from the adrenaline running through my body that I begin to sob uncontrollably. I bite my knuckle, trying to stifle the noise, but it doesn't help much.

We bypass the accident and get back on the main road. Megan flips the car out of four wheel drive and pins it. The Suburban shoots down the road at high speeds.

The dead start to thin out as we leave town. We drive for another forty minutes until there is nothing around us but wide open fields. We haven't seen a zombie in the last fifteen minutes.

Megan pulls the Suburban over and puts it in park, and we sit in complete silence for a long time.

"How could something like this happen?" Abby asks at last, her voice raw from emotion.

"What did happen?" I hesitate, not sure if I should have asked, not sure if I even want to know.

"We loaded all the supplies into the Suburban in the garage where it was safe, we made it out. Then Dad saw the neighbour’s kid from across the street; the zombies were after him." A tear leaks down her cheeks.

"He got out and tried to help, but it was too late. He was attacked and bitten... They tore him to pieces,” Abby shudders at the terrible memory. “Dad got bit, and Mom went crazy, jumping out of the truck and tried to save him..."

A lump forms in my throat, and I have to look away as tears prick my own eyes. Abby's parents had been like a second set of parents to me.

"Mom was attacked and I tried to help her... I even grabbed her hand." My empty stomach flip-flops at the imagery of her words. "The zombie was biting into her shoulder and she was screaming at me to run."

"What did you do?" My voice is a whisper. Abby shakes her head, unable to answer.

"I saw it from my window across the street and ran out to try and help." Megan swallows visibly. "There was nothing I could do, so I grabbed Abby's arm and pulled her into the truck.

"…I ran." Abby interrupts. Her words are spoken in a rush of tears and guilt, and then she breaks down.

I had begun to sweat during her story. I peel off my hoodie and roll the window down.

The cool air is a welcome addition to the stale smell of sweat and the metallic scent of blood.

"Shut the window!" Abby screams at me, her voice is filled with panic and I realize what an idiot I am. How could I forget already? Abby is still covered in her Mother’s blood, I feel shame and embarrassment sweep over my body.

"Sorry." I roll the window up as fast as my finger can press the button, before I even allow myself to breathe again. It hasn’t even been the zombie apocalypse for a whole day yet and here I am falling into old routines that could get us all killed.

Abby seems a bit recovered from her cry, the fear of what I did seemed to jolt her out of it.

"It's okay, you didn't realize." Her words say one thing, but the look on her face says another.

"So where are we going?" I ask to fill the silence as much as my own curiosity.

"My parents had a plan." Abby's breath catches a bit but she presses on. "We used to vacation at Lake Manaruke all the time, do you remember?" I nod, they had taken me with them the last seven summers.

"Your cabin?" I ask. Abby nods.

"Maybe it will be safer there in the middle of nowhere?"

I dip my head in agreement, though I’m not sure. How are a couple of sixteen-year-old girls supposed to survive the zombie apocalypse? We have no parents and no real skills. I don’t think my previous role as head cheerleader is going to help me anytime soon.

"Sure." I put on a brave face as Abby dig’s a map out of the glove box.

"My parents planned to avoid all the major cities and towns." She is scanning the map, trailing a blood red finger along the paper. I have to suppress a shiver.

It’s going to be hard. We are three states away from the beloved beach house, separated by a sea of reanimated death.

All three of our heads bend in close as we study the map; we need to avoid Burley, the next big town in our path. Together we carefully map out an alternate route with a pen that we find in the glove box.

"Will you trade places with me for a while, I want to lie down?" Abby asks me after she folds the map and puts it back in the glove box.

"Sure." I nod and unbuckle my seat belt.

"Let's just climb over, don't go outside," Abby cautions, like she thinks I am a complete idiot.

I bite my tongue and nod. Then, then the two of us are bumping into each other in the ultra-small space as we try to change spots.

My knee hits the dash, and I bite back a curse. Sitting in the passenger seat, I notice a small smear of blood on the leather right beside where my fingers rest and quickly move my hand.

"Ready?" Megan asks with a false sense of bravado. Abby curls up in the back seat and nods before closing her eyes. I'm a little worried that, with her parents gone, she might give up.

I can see Megan looking at Abby in the rear view mirror and wonder if she’s thinking the same thing. Megan catches me watching her and turns the key, putting the Suburban in to drive. I turn my attention to the side mirror. I can see plumes of black smoke billowing in the distance and my heart aches in my chest as I say a silent goodbye. I don't know if I'll ever come back or if I'll even live until tomorrow, and I’m terrified.

I turn around and look at Abby one more time, but her eyes are closed. I look back at Megan. "This is crazy." The words are out of my mouth before I can take them back.

Megan nods. "Tell me about it." She pauses awkwardly before continuing, "Did your parents...not make it either?" I can tell she feels weird asking me.

I shake my head. "I don't know." I don't really like the reminder that my parents could be dead, or worse, the walking dead.

Megan's eyebrows raise.

"They were in New York this weekend, Dad had a business meeting and Mom went with him to see the sights," my voice catches. I wipe at a single tear that streaks down my cheek.

"There's still hope then." Her words are encouraging and I want desperately to cling to that hope, but New York is a huge place with millions of people. It would be almost impossible to escape through that many zombies. If we hadn't lived on the outskirts of our relatively small town of Blairsville Pennsylvania—we might not have made it either. The thought is like a lead weight bringing me back down.

“Yeah, maybe,” I agree in a small voice. I want to give up like Abby and curl up and cry my eyes out, but something won’t let me. A will to live has kicked in, and it’s strong, so strong that I am actually able to push down something that should have me rocking back and forth in the corner.

Megan gives the Suburban a bit too much gas and we are shaken as it takes off like a shot.

“Oops,” she mutters under her breath, and I reach over and hastily fasten my seat belt.

“What about your parents?” I am hesitant to ask, since they obviously aren’t here, but she did ask me first.

Megan shrugs. “I didn’t really have any before this. I was living with the Clarksons, they were my foster family.” My eyebrows go up at the news, I hadn’t known that.

“When things started to happen they loaded up their station wagon and left.”

That got my attention.

“Wait…they left without you?” I ask incredulously. Megan nods.

“That’s terrible.” I blurt out, my heart aching for Megan that someone would do such a thing.

“They weren’t the nicest people,” Megan agrees. There is a frown set around her mouth that tells me she doesn’t want to talk about it anymore.

“Well, I’m glad that you’re with us. I don’t know if we would have made it out of town without you.” The frown around Megan’s mouth loosens up a bit.

“Thanks.” She says.

I nod. It’s the truth. I pull my cell phone back out of my pocket and try my parent’s again. This time the phone doesn’t even ring; it’s dead. I check my battery, and it’s at eighty percent. My hands shake as I put it back in my pocket. In the mirror, I can see Megan giving me a pitying look.

Chapter Three

We drive in silence for a while, passing the occasional vehicle and a few zombies that have wandered onto the road. There’s a group of them in the ditch, hunkered down around something that’s still moving… and I avert my eyes.

“We need a plan,” Megan interrupts my dismal thoughts.

I glance up and see that she’s is looking at me, probably to distract herself from the thing in the ditch. “I thought we had a plan?” I ask dumbly, and Megan shakes her head.

“We know where we want to go, and we know the roads we have to take. But we don’t have a plan, not really. We’re at half a tank of gas, we can’t just pull into town and stop at the gas station.”

Her words make my already sick stomach feel worse. She’s right. Like idiots, neither Abby nor I had even thought to think that far ahead.

I look around at the quiet country road ahead of us, farms dot the landscape here and there, but it’s mostly just open fields. “We should stop at one of these farms and try to find some gas and supplies,” I suggest hesitantly.

Megan beams like I’m her star pupil. “I was thinking the same thing,” she agrees.

My stomach flops at the idea of exiting the rolling safety of the car. “Abby.” I turn back to see if she’s heard the latest development. She doesn’t answer me. I take off my seat belt so I can reach over and shake her gently. She turns to face me; her face is swollen and puffy from crying.

“Did you hear the plan?” I ask. She slowly nods her head like she’s a zombie too.

“Yeah, do whatever you guys want. I don’t care,” She murmurs before turning to face the back of the seat.

Megan is frowning when I turn back around.

“Alright, I guess she can wait in the car,” Megan agrees, but I can tell that she isn’t thrilled with Abby’s lack of participation.

“What about this one?” Megan asks as a small farmyard appears on our left. She is already slowing down, and I am trying to fight the terror that I’m feeling.  Stupidly, I didn’t realize this foraging expedition would be happening so soon.

“It’s as good as any,” I agree, even though my voice is shaking.

“I heard on the radio before this whole thing started that you have to aim for the head—just like in the movies, destroying the brain is the only thing that takes them down,” Megan tries to prep me.

At the mention of the radio, I reach over and turn the knob on the stereo. Only static comes through the speakers. I click through every station, but there’s nothing, just like my phone, the radio is dead.

“Wow,” Megan mutters when I finally give up and click the static off.

I feel sick. Is the rest of the world really gone? What about the President and the Armed Forces? Is this just happening in the United States, or is the entire world being overrun?

Megan pulls up as close to the house as we dare and puts the suburban in park. “We need gasoline, weapons, and food,” Megan checks them off on her fingers as she speaks.

“Do you think anyone’s home?” I ask, worry gnawing my stomach at the thought of getting out of this car with all the undead freaks running around and, also, a little bit because I don’t want to break and enter.

There’s an old, rusted-out pickup truck parked near the house, but it doesn’t really look like it runs. We decide that it might have been left behind.

I grip the golf club that hasn’t left my side since this morning, and Megan pulls a tire iron out from beside the door. They are both pretty tough weapons, but, in the face of zombies, they feel like toys.

“Let’s go,” Megan says before throwing open her door.

I take a deep breath and slowly ease open my own door. It makes a squeaking sound that almost has me jumping out of my skin. I feel even more conspicuous—like every zombie within a hundred miles must have heard it. I can’t shake the feeling that, any minute, a zombie is going to reach out from underneath the car and grab my ankles. I move away from the vehicle pretty quickly.

We walk up the rickety wooden steps that lead to the house, and Megan puts her hand on the door knob.

“Wait!” I say in terror, and she looks at me expectantly.

“We should knock first. If there’s anyone alive in there, they’ll come to the door…if there’s anyone dead, they’ll come to the door too, and we’ll be able to see what we’re dealing with.”

Megan looks impressed. “That’s a good idea,” she raises her hand and raps on the door.

I turn around and look behind us to make sure no one is sneaking up on us, even though sneaking doesn’t really seem like a zombie’s style.

The house stands silent. After ten minutes of waiting, neither of us barely breathing, Megan finally turns the knob. We gently push the door open, poised for an attack. The house doesn’t smell like anyone dead has been inside, but we are still cautious as we enter into what looks like a room to store your boots and coats. Megan shuts the door behind us, and I turn and look at her in horror.

“We don’t want anyone following us in,” she reasons.

I nod, that makes sense, even though the idea of being trapped inside this house with zombies is equally as terrifying. The house is bathed in darkness and my hand is sweating on the golf club like crazy; I’m actually scared I’ll drop it.

“I wish we had a flashlight,” I mutter to no one in particular.

“That’s just one more reason why finding supplies is so important,” Megan reminds me before whispering, “Let’s go.”

I nod, but then feel a bit dumb because it’s so dark that she can’t possibly see me. We creep towards the doorway where a bit more light is shining in from some windows. It’s the kitchen. There is a cardboard box sitting on the counter, hastily half-packed. I stare at it, like it’s going to come alive and bite me.

“Why did they leave all their food?” I ask in confusion.

Megan shrugs. “Maybe they had to get out in a hurry?” she suggests.

I walk slowly over to the food and take a peek inside, it’s half full of canned goods and some homemade stuff in jars.

“We should keep looking, make sure this house doesn’t have any zombies, and get out of here.” Megan whispers, coming up beside me to peek in the box.

“The house is clear,” a male voice says from the doorway.

Megan and I both jump. We whirl around to find a guy leaning casually against the doorway. He has a gun in his hand, but it’s pointed at the ground, not at us.

I see Megan take on a fighting stance with her tire iron, swinging it back like a bat, and I do the same.

“What do you want?” Megan demands.

The guy shrugs, “Same as you probably. My truck ran out of gas, and I stopped to see what I could find.”

He’s tall and well built, with sandy blond hair that’s been buzzed short. He kind of looks like he is military by the way he holds himself. He’s wearing a pair of ill-fitting jeans and a shirt that is a bit too small but manages to show off a lot of muscle.

“I’m not going to hurt you guys,” he adds when we don’t relax.

“How do we know you’re not lying?” I ask.

Again, the guy shrugs. “I guess you don’t. My name’s Ryan, by the way.” He tucks his gun into the band of his pants and flashes us an easygoing smile.

I feel a little bit more relaxed once the gun is out of sight, but maybe that’s part of his plan to make us drop our guard. “Where are you headed?” I ask as he goes back to the box of food and continues to pack cans away.

“I don’t know.” His face gets darker, like he’s remembering something bad. “Just try to find somewhere safe, I guess.” He tucks a can of peaches into the box and then looks up at us with a piercing blue gaze. “What about you guys?”

“Same,” I say as casually as I can “just trying to find somewhere safe.” I don’t want to let this complete stranger know that we might have a place.

Ryan nods, “I hope there’s somewhere like that left.”

He seems so sad that I’m not really afraid of him anymore.

“Did you find that gun in this house?” Megan asks him.

He nods.

 “Were there anymore? Anything for us?”

Ryan looks like he’s thinking something over as he stares at us. “There were a couple,” he admits before walking out of the room and returning a second later with an armload of handguns.

It looks like more than a couple to me. He sets them on the counter, and we both draw closer to look at them.

“Have you ever handled a gun before?” he asks.

I shake my head, but Megan doesn’t answer as she picks up one of the shiny black pieces of metal and pulls out the magazine like some sort of action star. She checks it, pulling out the bullets, reloads the clip, and then slides the magazine back into the gun.

I am a little stunned, and Ryan looks impressed.

Megan sees me looking. “One of my foster dads a few years ago was a gun nut,” she explains.

I nod like that makes perfect sense, but my head is spinning. I am rejoicing that at least one of us knows how to fire a gun. I am really hoping that she will find it in her heart to teach me how to use one too.

“Is there any extra ammo?” Megan asks.

Ryan nods, “There is.” He doesn’t say anything else or offer us any, and we both stare at him.

“Well, can we have some?” I ask.

Ryan looks hesitant. “I’ll give you a couple boxes,” he says after a moment of reflection.

I let out a breath of relief. “Thanks.”

I walk over to the pantry and am glad to see there’s actually a lot of stuff left. I grab one of those reusable cloth grocery bags and begin to pack stuff away.

“Well, groceries and guns isn’t bad.” I say with pride as I set our booty by the front door.

Megan mumbles her agreement as she puffs out a tired breath and sets down another heavy box.  Ryan has already told us that he’s searched the barn and only found a small container of gas. He helps us haul our boxes out to the suburban. I have to admit I feel much safer with Ryan there.

“Well…thanks,” I say when we are awkwardly facing each other in the entrance way.

He frowns at us, “You’re leaving?”

I look at Megan expectantly; I had assumed so. She nods her head to confirm it.

“Yes,” I tell him, like it was my idea the whole time.

Ryan shakes his head, “I’m not trying to tell you what to do—”

“Then don’t,” Megan interrupts him.

I look over at her, a little surprised.

“It’s going to be dark in an hour, and you don’t want to be out on the road when it gets dark.” He continues as if Megan’s interruption didn’t even faze him.

“Why not?” I ask. “We have the car. I can’t think of anything safer than being in metal walls that move.” Ryan shakes his head at me.

“You might think so, but it can be hard to avoid huge groups of them if you can’t see ahead. If your vehicle broke down, you would be stumbling around blind out there. Or if you don’t have enough gas to drive through the entire night…,” he trails off, letting my vivid imagination fill in the rest.

I remember earlier today, we had almost been surrounded when we got stuck on the edge of the highway.

“I think maybe we should listen to him,” I say after a few minutes of awkward silence.

Megan looks reluctant. “How is getting trapped in here any better?” she challenges Ryan.

“It might seem like it isn’t any better, but there are four solid walls and doors that lock. There are no overly large windows, and if we block off the windows in a few of the rooms, then zombies could pass right by and might not even know we’re in here. You guys would conserve your fuel and could get back on the road in the morning once it’s light out again.”

I stare out the window, it is getting dimmer by the minute. I had originally felt so safe in the car, but now I’m not so sure.

“Come on Megan,” I prompt her.

She slowly nods her head in agreement, “Someone has to go get Abby from the car.”

Ryan looks confused.

“Who’s Abby?”

“Our friend, she lost both her parents today and she’s been having a rough time,” I supply the information.

“I can imagine,” Ryan looks grim at the news. “I’ll go get her,” he volunteers.

Since I certainly don’t want to go back outside, I agree. He seems harmless enough.

I poke through the house while he’s gone. It isn’t a huge house. There are two bedrooms upstairs, and the living room has a wood-burning stove. I go in the bathroom and check the taps, cold water comes blasting out. I wash the dust from my hands and pull out my phone again and try to dial my parents. The phone doesn’t even ring, and I feel like throwing the useless thing across the room. A hot tear falls from my eyes, and I use the cold water to brusquely wash it away. I stare at myself in the mirror for a long time and, incredibly, my stomach growls. I have no idea how I’ll manage to force down a single bite, but it’s a reminder that I haven’t eat all day. I carefully smooth down my hair and wipe my forehead with a cool cloth before I go back in to the other room. I find Ryan and Megan starting a fire in the wood stove. Abby is lying on the couch with her back to the room. I count it as a small victory that she even got out of the car.