Zombies Begin (Zombies Begin Series Book 1)
Read Zombies Begin (Zombies Begin Series Book 1) Online
Authors: Liam Roth
Zombies Begin
Publisher:
Gough Media
Author:
Liam Roth
Cover Design:
Jimmy Gibbs
Copyright © 2014, Liam Roth
Other books by the publisher:
Disclaimer:
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
Dragon, Tiger, Phoenix
It was a cold, dark night. The recent rain made small puddles in the street. Steam billowed up from the sewers below. It was a quiet, out of the way part of Chinatown on the outskirts of the city. Only locals visited those parts.
A white lab rat scurried amongst garbage in a back alleyway. It grunted and growled. Twitching. Its head jerked uncontrollably. It chewed on rotten food and garbage.
The scent of the rat caught the attention of a large, battle-worn tabby cat prowling the alley. Ears tattered, face scarred and patches of missing hair. A telltale sign it was king around there. The tabby sighted its next victim—the twitching rat.
The tabby studied its prey for a moment. Low to the ground, eyes fixated on its meal, it inched in slowly for the kill. The rat looked up, sensing danger. But didn’t run—as though it had a death wish. Contrary to all natural instincts the rat charged the large tabby like a wild dog.
The tabby sprang quickly. Its teeth punctured deep into the rat’s neck. After a small scuffle the rat lay limp. The tabby dragged its new meal into the shadows, away from prying eyes.
***
Two corporate types, Michael Fuller and Johnny Chen, had been out on the town, celebrating. Both men midtwenties. They worked at the same uptown corporation. “Financial Analyst” was their job title. But sometimes it felt more like salespeople. Not that Johnny Chen minded. He had just sourced a big client—a toilet paper manufacture. He always seemed to land the big deals. Then again, he was hungry for it. He would probably be Fuller’s supervisor in the next month or so, even though Fuller had been working there six months before him. But Johnny always seemed to have his back, so it might be a good thing.
Their ties were loosened, the night still young, and Johnny Chen was ready to party some more.
Fuller wasn’t exactly the partying type, and this wasn’t even his deal. On top of that, his head hurt, his stomach churned. Not from drinking. He’d only had two drinks. Probably a head cold or flu coming on.
It was a Friday night, the end of a long work week. Fuller was ready to go home and head to bed. He probably needed the recovery time, just to start it all over again come Monday morning.
Johnny was reluctant to cut the night short. This was his deal after all. Fuller could be a part of the deal. They could work the client together.
He led Fuller into a nearby little restaurant. The Yat-Sun Chinese restaurant. Getting out of the cold and into the warm restaurant with a hot meal would help.
Fuller still wasn’t accustomed to city life. Maybe he would never get use to it. It was a far cry from his childhood. The family farm was his sanctuary. The warm soft sun. The breeze gently blowing. He would hide amongst the golden corn stalks when he didn’t want to do his chores. Simpler times. Whenever he got sick his mama would have him sip apple cider vinegar with honey and lie on the couch watching movies. He would pay for that kind of luxury right now. Anything to be away from this crazy city—traffic lights, car horns, sirens—this shit never stopped.
The two men were seated quickly in the traditional restaurant. Chopsticks and all. This wasn’t the western version of Chinese food. This was Chinatown, where the menu was in Cantonese and the waiters only spoke broken English, if you were lucky.
The restaurant was dimly lit, with just a few small lamps burning. Faded red walls with golden Chinese characters decorated the interior. Strange smells of different spices drifted through the air—smells Fuller wasn’t accustomed to. The place was empty. Business seemed a little slow tonight, especially for a Friday night.
A well presented young lady poured two small cups of tea for the men and stood ready to take their order. Johnny jumped straight in, speaking rapid Cantonese to the young waiter. Words went back and forth between the two of them. Fuller didn’t understand a word. Finally the young lady shook her head “no.”
Johnny rubbed his face. Frustrated. He turned to fill Fuller in on the conversation. “I’m trying to order something for your—” Fuller sneezed into his hands. “For that!” continued Johnny, pointing at Fuller’s bacteria-filled hands. Fuller just nodded, trying to clean himself up with a napkin. He didn’t care. He didn’t even want to be there.
Johnny let loose again in Cantonese at the young lady. He was visibly annoyed and angry at her. The waiter, Mai Ling, gave up and waved over her grandfather. Mr. Yat-Sun was the restaurant owner, an elderly man with a long, thin, gray beard. Yat-Sun limped over to the men’s table. He lent on his old wooden cane. His eyes were piercing, almost mystical. His one lazy eye made him look a little crazy.
“What you want?” asked Mr. Yat-Sun in his broken English.
“Dragon, Tiger, Phoenix soup; for my friend.” Indicating to Fuller with an open hand.
Yat-Sun glared at Fuller, not happy those young men were there. They weren’t welcome. Fuller’s eyes darted around, not sure where to look. Yat-Sun aggressively fired off some Cantonese. Johnny Chen returned fire in the foreign language. Voices raised.
Fuller squirmed in his chair. He didn’t want to get into the middle of the argument. He kept his head low and didn’t make eye contact. Under his breath he whispered to Johnny. “I don’t need any of the Dragon...soup...phoenix thing.”
Johnny realized he wasn’t getting anywhere with this. He arrogantly removed his soft, leather-bound wallet. He slid a crisp one hundred dollar bill toward the old man. Yat-Sun’s eyes followed the bill across the table. He didn’t break his stare on the money. He stroked his beard. Johnny sat back with arms folded. A smug smile across his face. He always got what he wanted. He negotiated with major corporations. He could make a deal with an old man.
After what seemed like an eternity, Yat-Sun nodded to Mai Ling. She discreetly scooped up the hundred dollar bill and made her way toward the kitchen. Yat-Sun slowly backed away from the table. Johnny held up two fingers to Yat-Sun, indicating he wanted two servings of the soup.
“What was that all about?” asked Fuller.
“It’s a little tabooed. A traditional dish. They don’t like to serve it to just anyone.”
“What’s so special about it?”
“It’s good for your health and will bring us luck!”
“Sure it will. What’s in it?”
***
The young waiter moved through the rundown kitchen. Four older Chinese men were back there, pots boiling, steam flowing, a lot of yelling in Cantonese. Mai Ling approached the head chef. A few words were mumbled. Then more yelling. Tommy, a young nineteen-year-old kitchen hand—a lowly dishwasher—was called over. The head chef gave him some instructions and then sent him on his way, with a large meat cleaver in hand.
The back door of the restaurant flew open into the alleyway. The kitchen light poured out into the dark night, Tommy silhouetted in the doorway. The blade of the cleaver glimmered in the light. In his other hand, a large flashlight.
Tommy’s eyes struggled to adjust to the night. His eyes darted around. The flashlight beam broke the thick night air. Old food crates, crumpled up newspaper and pieces of rotten lettuce littered the street. An old, rusted-out dumpster rested against the cracked red-brick wall. It overflowed with the neighborhood’s trash.
Tommy moved to the dumpster. Down on hands and knees with his blade beside him. He smacked his lips together, making kissing noises. “Here kitty kitty.”
Tommy flashed the light around, searching. The large tabby cat’s eyes caught the light.
“Here kitty kitty,” he coaxed.
The tabby grabbed hold of the half-eaten rat carcass and retreated further into the shadows.
“HERE KITTY KITTY!” shouted Tommy. He took a deep sigh. Frustrated.
***
Johnny Chen glanced at his knock-off gold Rolex watch. He was getting impatient. He wanted to fix up his friend and move on with the night, get to the action where young guys meet young ladies.
“This soup better be worth it,” mused Fuller.
“It’s worth it. Trust me, it’ll fix you right up,” said Johnny. “Besides I need the luck for next week.”
“Luck? You don’t need luck. You’ve got the promotion in the bag.”
“You think so?”
“You kissed MacKenzie’s ass enough to get it anyway,” laughed Fuller.
Johnny chuckled. He scooped up his cup of tea. “Here’s to getting the promotion... and to kissing MacKenzie’s ass for two years.”
The two men clanged their cups together.
***
“KITTY! KITTY!” Tommy yelled, smacking his hand on the cold, wet asphalt.
Tommy poked at the cat with an old, long curtain rod he had retrieved from the dumpster. The tabby hissed and growled. It didn’t move. Hair on end, ears back.
He pushed hard against the cat again. The tabby bit at the rod, standing its ground. Tommy poked again. The tabby dragged its catch further back, closer to the edge of other side of the dumpster.
Tommy saw his opportunity. He jumped to his feet and ran around to the other side. He could see the cat was in reach. He squatted down. Reached out toward the cat. His fingers could almost touch it. The tabby hissed at his hand.
He stretched further. Fingers barely skimmed its face. The tabby hissed. Ears still flattened back. Like a wild animal with rabies it lunged at Tommy’s arm. Claws slashed deep into his forearm. Tommy screamed and snapped back his arm. The cat still attached. Tommy pulled at it to pry it off. The cat leaped from his arm. Its claws sank deep into his cold face.
He screamed and fell backwards onto his butt. He grabbed the cat by the neck, trying to unhook it. Its claws sank deeper into the sides of his face. The only way it was coming off was with chunks of flesh. Blood streamed from the sides of his cheeks.
The tabby bit into his nose. Its pin-pointed teeth broke skin. More blood covered Tommy’s shredded face.
He was frantic. He rolled on the ground trying desperately to get it off. He pulled hard, dragging the cat from his face. The claws sliced through his flesh as he tossed it into the nearby brick wall.
The cat hit hard against the wall but still managed to land on its feet. Blood streamed down Tommy’s face. The tabby arched its back and hissed. Its black eyes fixated on its target. Tommy clenched his teeth in pain and gently held his face. The scratches and bite were deep.
The possessed cat decided it would have another shot at its new victim and rushed quickly towards him. Tommy searched quickly for his cleaver. He swung madly, slicing at the cat. Several blows connected, sending the tabby’s lifeless body into a pothole full of dirty rain water.
Tommy stumbled over to his catch. He grabbed the lifeless, wet cat by the tail, lifting it into the air. Its tongue hung from its open, bloodied mouth. Tommy inspected it, ensuring it was dead. It was finished. The deed was done.
***
Two bowls of Dragon, Tiger, Phoenix soup were placed in front of the two men. As the steam rose, Johnny took a delighted whiff of the aroma. Fuller wasn’t so delighted. Strange pieces of flesh floated around in his bowl. He prodded the meat with a chop stick.
Johnny didn’t wait for Fuller. He dived in, biting on a large piece of meat. It was gamey, and bounced around in his open mouth.
Fuller hesitant. “What’s in it?”
“Try some before I tell you,” chuckled Johnny.
Fuller was reluctant. He didn’t fully trust Johnny Chen. Johnny was the kind of friend where you weren’t sure of his motives. He was self-centered and always looked out for number one. Fuller and Johnny had been friends since college, but since those days their morals and opinions had grown in two different directions. Work was the only real thing they both retained in common anymore.
Fuller fumbled with his chopsticks. His unskilled hand made it difficult to pick up the slippery meat between the two little pieces of wood. His eyes searched the table for a fork or spoon, but he wasn’t so lucky. He glanced over at Johnny who now had the bowl to his mouth, drinking the soup. Fuller followed suit and lifted the bowl to his lips. The rim of the white china bowl was hot. He slowly poured the liquid into his mouth. The warm liquid ran down his throat and warmed his belly.
“Try the meat,” suggested Johnny.
Fuller tried once more to grasp the meat between his sticks, but it didn’t work. Fed-up, Fuller stabbed the meat with one chopstick and took a small bite. The rubbery meat bounced between his teeth. A look of disgust crossed his face. He managed to choke it down his neck. He felt a strange feeling come over him. His eyes glazed over for a moment. He tried to shake it off.
“You just ate cat, man!” laughed Johnny, slapping the table with joy. “Yeah!”
Fuller spat any remaining food back into his bowl. “That isn’t funny. This could be someone’s pet, you sick bastard!”
“Relax, it’s only chicken,” reassured Johnny. “And snake.” Under his breath.
Yat-Sun observed the disrespectful act of Fuller and smashed his wooden cane onto the table. “YOU NO RESPECT!” shouted Yat-Sun. “You leave. Now!”
Johnny got to his feet and ripped the cane out of Yat-Sun’s hand, tossing it across the room. He bombarded the old man in an array of Cantonese words. Even a few English words in the mix. Yat-Sun fired back with some words of his own. Johnny was enraged, more so than he should have been. He grabbed Fuller’s bowl of soup and smashed it against the wall. Soup splattered all over the faded red wall.
