Zombie Dawn II: A Zombie Apocalypse Sequel

Recap:

After the world fell apart, I took
what was left of my family and headed north to an island in Vermont to
establish a safe zone, which we called the Farm.  On a search and destroy
mission to Burlington to eradicate zombies, my wife, Kate, and oldest son, Mike,
were captured, and, I thought, killed, by zombies.  I escaped and returned to
the Farm, only to face an organized attack from a mixed force of humans and
zombies.  The zombies were led by Santos and Mariana, a couple of troubled—and
troubling—children from my home town who had somehow become the king and queen
of the zombies.  Santos hated me because I had thrown him to a pack of zombies
after I intuited that he had abandoned his sister to save himself.

We fought off the attack on the Farm,
but at great cost.  Something I saw at the end of the battle led me to believe
that Mike and Kate were somehow alive, captives of Santos and Mariana, so I
left my other kids, Bobbie and Sean, with my big brother Jim and set off after Mike
and Kate.  I promised myself that I would not return to the Farm without Mike
and Kate--and until I’d killed Santos and Mariana.  It didn’t quite work out
that way.

Chapter 1:      Jack’s Journey—The
Hunt Begins

Knowing that Mike and Kate were alive
thrilled and terrified me at the same time.  The thrill was nice, since I knew
I couldn’t live for long without Kate.  She was the true love of my life.  I
knew that my life would not be living without her.  Also, because Mike, my
oldest, was turning into a very impressive young man with a lot to offer in
this new world.  He’d matured so much in the months since the “Change.” 
Whatever you want to call it.

The terror came from not knowing what
type of condition they were in and what Santos may have done to them.  Had he
already killed them?  Was he torturing them even now?  I drove myself wild
imagining the worst.

I also wondered if I had what it
would take to get them back.  And I doubted myself—my entire chase was based on
a single quick view through a scope during a firefight.  How could I be sure
that Mike was alive just from that quick view through a scope?  That I somehow “knew”
they were alive did not stop the night terrors.  There was little sleep for me.

I was exhausted after the battle, but
I knew that I had to set out right then, without any debate, while the trail
was live.  Jim would naturally take over at the Farm.  He was a born leader,
even if he was a bit of a fuck up at times.  Never listened to his little
brother, always had to be right, on and on.  I knew we’d ultimately find the
island too small anyway.  It was inevitable.  That big brother vibe carries on,
even after the apocalypse.  It’s one of the universal truths.  But it’s the
type of truth that’s a good problem to have, relatively speaking.

I knew that Bobbie and Sean were in
good hands, too.  I didn’t even want to look at Bobbie to tell her goodbye,
because I thought she might try to get me stay.  And I might weaken.  That kid
had me wrapped around her finger.  And Sean would want to come with me, but he
was just too young to travel as fast as I had to.  He was so persuasive he
could talk me into almost anything.  He would be the ultimate trial lawyer--if
we ever had the need for that profession again.  Sadly, I thought we probably
would, some day.

So I had to go.  It was better for
them to stay.  There was no real choice, and this is a world of hard choices
now.  Life or death, all the time.  Make the call and see what happens.

It’s not easy to give up on two to
try to save two.  So I comforted myself with the thought that, if I was really,
really lucky, maybe we could all end up together again, safe and healthy.  Nice
dream, huh?  That illusion was what kept me going.  I figured I’d end up seeing
unicorns flying over rainbows if I stayed on that track, so I tamped it down a
bit.  Focus on the task.  Do your job.

I had to pack light, so all I brought
was a silenced Beretta Model 9, my scoped M4 with a suppressor, and a backpack
with some food and water.  A few camping things.  I figured I could forage as I
went, and I knew that I couldn’t carry much weight.  I really didn’t need as
much stuff as in the “old days.”  Funny, that the “old days” had ended only a
few months before.  Already a distant memory.

I thought about taking a horse or a
bike, but I figured that the attackers would set up some rear guard listening
posts and I didn’t want to stumble into an ambush.  Nor did I want to lose the
trail.  I packed up and jogged off the Farm, sobbing as I went.

Chapter 2:      Kate’s Diary—The
Eagle’s Nest

When I was captured, the lights just
went out.  I guess I fell asleep that night, since I’d felt sort of safe and
comfortable up there in the Eagle’s Nest.  Not to mention totally exhausted,
physically and emotionally.

Anyway, I nodded off.  The zombies were
somehow in the walls and ceiling, I guess, and came rushing in and there was
nothing I could do.  It was my fault, and I just knew that I had killed Mike
and Jack.  Guilty as charged.

Even with my eyes closed, the sight
of the zombies storming us plays over and over again inside my eyelids.  My
last thought during the attack had been wonder: why were they not ripping me
apart like they did all the others?  They were rough, and they hurt me, but no
bites or clawing.  Just before that, I’d been hoping to die, if my death would
somehow help Mike and Jack to get away.  Knowing even as I thought it how
stupid it was.  My last memory was of a huge zombie, different somehow, somehow
“more” than the others, staring at me, then moving towards me.  Given the swollen
jaw I woke up with, I guess it must have knocked me out.

The first thing I saw when I came to
was a young man dressed all in black.  Black dress pants, black shirt, black
everything.  Black cape over it all, believe it or not.

He was clearly human, sort of
Hispanic looking, almost handsome, with one of those wispy adolescent
mustaches.  Kind of like JLo’s husband, or ex, or whatever.  Maybe my height or
a little shorter.  I’d never seen this kid before, but I could tell it was
Santos.

Jack had told me about him.  I had an
immediate visceral reaction to him, like you’d have to a poisonous snake.  First
you pull away, then you want to kill it with a hoe or shovel.  You never get
comfortable with it.

That feeling never went away, either. 
He had a female zombie with him, very “fresh” and almost normal looking.  He
called her something that sounded like “Dokeh.”  There was another one, too, a
horrible looking obese black woman called “Rina,” from the name on her shirt
anyway.  Not sure if it was a bowling shirt or a mechanic’s shirt.  It was
stiff from blood and gore.  Dokeh smelled okay, but Rina’s stench made me gag,
and I even threw up a few times.

I later learned that they were among
his key lieutenants.  But I knew nothing about that at first.  All I knew about
was brains and wolves and shamblers.  Brains were the ones that we thought were
the leaders.  Smart, intact, usually taller, better dressed.  They never spoke
out loud, but could seemingly direct other zombies using some kind of
telepathy.  At least it seemed like they could.  We always tried to shoot them
first.

Wolves traveled in packs.  They were
the worker bees of the zombie pack.  Vicious and clever.  Always in groups,
always working together.  Sneaky and fast.  Dangerous as hell.  They took
orders—silent orders—from the brains and carried them out efficiently.  Or,
were just sent out in packs to kill humans.  We would shoot or kill them as
soon as we’d shot any brains in range.

Shamblers were what we called the
main mass of zombies.  Stupid, slow, easy to kill.  Except that you’d run out
of bullets.  Or wander into one in the woods.  Or step on one in a lake or
stream.  Their power was in their implacable mass and sheer numbers.   Shamblers
never got tired, never gave up.  They would ultimately defeat any fence or
barrier.  Just a matter of time.

Anyway, Santos and these woman things
were different from what I’d seen before.  Jack had told me about them and was
maybe starting to figure it out, and he’d even been starting a chart to
describe the different types and abilities.  He kept it under his bed, believe
it or not, because he was not ready to reveal it.  Maybe he was afraid to be
wrong. 

It was different seeing the advanced
zombies up close.  Santo had scabbed over bites on his hands and neck, but he
had not turned.  He was either about to turn, or somehow resistant.  Maybe he
was immune, who knows.  Who cares, really, because I knew he was mine to kill. 
All I needed was a chance.

He had sort of a whiny, lispy voice
and was in a rage.  He was waving a bullwhip around.  It would have been funny,
but he was pretty good with it.  He’d whip Dokeh and Rina for no reason.  Their
lack of response enraged him even more.

He whipped me a couple of times, too. 
Very lightly, just to show that he could.  Even the lightest lash hurt like a
motherfucker.  I looked forward to jamming that whip up his ass some time soon.

“Where is he?  How did he escape me?” 
He whisper-lisped.  He was really scary, though.  Like something from under
your bed when you’re a kid.  Look into the eyes and see Hell.  That type of
scary.  On top of sheer horror, I had to try not to laugh at his lisp, his
whip, and his bizarre getup.  It was a difficult task.

“Who are you talking about?”

“Bobbie’s father.  The leader.  The
dark man.  Tell me now!” 

I realized that he did not know who I
was.  Or who Jack was.  What was so dark about Jack, anyway?  He was kind of a
basic white guy in color.  Which was funny, because before I met Jack I liked
the Mediterranean type.  Like Santos, but taller and with some meat on the
bone.  Anyway, to call Jack dark was just weird.  I paused too long.

Santos’ hands grabbed my upper arms,
hard.  I reflexively slammed my head forward into his face.  He was lighting
quick and dodged it, but I did make some contact with his lower jaw and chest. 
Drew a little blood.  Small satisfaction.

Dokeh hit me and I passed out again. 
The light drew to a point, then disappeared.  All was dark.

Chapter 3       Mariana and Santos

Mariana had turned during the first
horde attack.  Santos had left her for the zombies storming their building and
sought safety himself.  She forgave him.

She wanted only to be with Santos. 
She lived for him.  She was his, heart and soul.

Mariana had a rare genetic defect
that prevented the virus from completely changing her.  Instead of taking over,
the virus amplified a nascent psychic ability that she’d always had.  She’d
always been the quiet, sensitive type.  Others like her could sense her
presence and even felt at peace in her presence.  Like Jack’s daughter, Bobbie. 
That was before the Apocalypse and the Change. What had been a gentle, unexplored
curing power had become corrupted by the virus.

Now, her power allowed her to control
the other zombies using just her mind.  Santos had some of it too.  Enough to
communicate with and control Mariana.  Silently.  Without moving.  Thought
becomes communication.  Thought becomes action.  Thought becomes power.

Mariana had great power, and she knew
it.  Even as a zombie, she had the capacity to be good.  To heal, to cure.  But
Mariana’s sole weakness was her big step-brother, Santos.  She knew he was bad
news.  But he’d also protected her for many years.  He was the only one who
understood her.  He’d protected her from everyone and everything—but he
couldn’t, wouldn’t protect her from himself.

She knew that he’d sacrificed her to
the zombies.  She knew that he was using her to control the undead and grow his
own power.  She knew that what they did together was wrong, evil.  But she
could not help herself; she was his virtual slave.  She lived for him.  He
controlled her, and she controlled the undead.

Now, she remembered only Santos. The
sound of his soft voice.  The touch of his smooth hand.   Santos, and the taste
of human flesh.