The Undead World (Book 1): The Apocalypse Read online

  This was his hope as he tracked her throughout central Jersey. It was easier than he could've imagined. At the edge of the football field he saw fresh muddy tire tracks heading north on Garland Way. This street came to a four way stop and down the road to his right he saw a zombie that was near cut in half; it had been run over by something very large.

  “He-he!” Neil giggled and took the right. The next clue took longer to find. So many of the roads were blocked that he had to go to each and inspect them before turning around to go to the next. After twenty minutes he found what he was looking for.

  A Porsche that had been a part of a pile-up had its rear crushed inexplicably. Neil banked over a low hill and across someone's flower border and then paused to take in his choices: to the east and north, more houses. To the west a strip mall. He went west and found the monster truck. Sadie had used it to punch a hole in the wooden planks covering the front of a convenience store. Neil honked his horn, a light and friendly: meep, meep, and then parked behind the truck.

  Before he could get out, however the truck coughed blue smoke all over the red Tercel and then began to back over him with a throaty roar. Neil screamed and dove out of the car just as the driver side was flattened.

  “Oh it's you,” Sadie said, squinting down at him. He lay in a spatter of glass clutching himself and thanking God that his bladder hadn't let go. “I thought you were John.”

  “No. I'm me,” he replied, feeling tiny next to the great truck.

  “Why didn't he kill you?” she asked. “That's all he talked about. I'm going to kill that bastard! It got dull I tell you. Hey, look out behind you. There's a stiff right there.”

  She seemed so relaxed that Neil was casual about turning and there was a zombie five feet away and rushing at him quickly. Another scream ripped out of his throat as he pulled the .357 and fired at point blank range. It was a heavy-duty gun and the zombie fell to the ground with a gaping hole coming out the back of him.

  Immediately it started to get up again and Sadie snorted, “You have to shoot it in the head, dummy.”

  “Oh, I didn't know,” Neil said, taking aim at the creature struggling to get up. He pulled the trigger keeping his face turned partially away, yet still somehow managed to hit his target, sending grey-pink brains scattering across the parking lot. “That's gross,” he said feeling his stomach turn over.

  “Yeah, but they're zombies so what do you expect?”

  They sort of just looked at each in a silence then. Neil because he had shot her friend and he didn't know how to bring it up, and Sadie, because awkward silences didn't seem to faze her.

  Finally Neil just blurted, “I killed your friend, John. It wasn't really my fault, and he was going to kill me too. Honestly you could say he was hoist with his own petard...I just wanted to let you know.”

  Sadie looked skeptical. “Are you sure you killed him? You're not just saying that to impress me?”

  “I am sure,” Neil said, a little defensively. “It was like an old fashioned duel. He shot and missed and then I shot and didn't. I don't know what's so hard to understand. His body is back at that house, you can go see for yourself.”

  She looked back the way she had come and then gave a half shrug. “For your sake I hope he's dead. That guy had a mean streak in him a mile wide. It's why I left. He was bad news. That and he kept trying to, you know. He was always like, Come on Baby. We have to procreate for the sake of the species. What an asshole. I think the species is better off with him dead.”

  “Well he is dead,” Neil said again.

  “That's what you said.” She gave him an expectant look and then asked, “So are you just going to stand there all day? We got incoming stiffs.”

  “I can come with you?” he asked happily, climbing into the truck. She refused to budge out of the driver's seat and he had to basically climb over her, but since they were both small and trim it wasn't so bad—except for the fact that she kept her pistol trained on him as he did.

  “As long as we have an understanding,” she said, indicating the gun. “Like I told John, the only gun I want anywhere near me is this one. So make sure you keep your hands to yourself.”

  Neil held his hands up to show how harmless he was. “I respect your lifestyle choices. I'm a very modern man.”

  “When you say lifestyle, are you suggesting I'm a lesbian?” Clearly his look made it obvious and she rolled her eyes. “I'm not a lesbian. Wow, some modern man you are. I just don't want to have to play that game. If I like a guy, I'll let him know.”

  “Sorry,” Neil said, sheepishly. “I didn't mean to imply anything. And thanks for taking me on.”

  “It's ok. I don't like to be alone, which is strange because I used to be the ultimate loner. In High School, I was a junior by the way, anyway, I was the most closeted person. It probably was because I was all Goth and everyone thinks Goths are all, like freaks. But here we are and I have all the chance in the world to be alone and now I can't stand it.”

  As she spoke she backed over the remains of the Tercel and was now tooling up a street, driving aimlessly. “So how old are you,” she asked.

  Neil got a twinge the way she said old. “I'm only thirty-four. So, do you know where you're going? Do you have a plan?”

  “You don't look thirty-four,” she said, giving him a long look. “You have a baby face. Anyone ever tell you that?” Many people had, almost all of them perspective women he had his eye on. He nodded, not wanting to continue on the subject and she let it go. “And I don't know where I'm going. This way, I guess.” She pointed down the road.

  “I think we should go west,” Neil said. “There are fewer people out there, which means fewer zombies. What do you think?”

  She gave him a shrug and said, “Sure. West it is. What did you mean earlier when you said John was a petard? What's that? Is that like a retard?”

  He had to laugh and she smiled back showing straight white teeth. “No, I said he was hoist with his own petard. It's from Hamlet.”

  A groan ran from between her lips. “Hamlet? That's Shakespeare isn't it? Well you can count me out. He puts me to sleep.”

  This put the conversation on hold for a while and Sadie drove the great beast of a truck until they came to I-80 which was dreadfully clogged both ways and littered with soldiers, both dead and undead. They had to settle for a zigzagging route, that reminded Neil of sailboat tacking into the wind. They'd go north till they found a good route west but when that clogged up they'd swing south until they found another. And so on.

  Eventually gas became an issue. Neil emptied the last of the jerry cans into the tank while Sadie watched, blowing tremendous bubbles with her gum. This lasted them a good thirty miles of back and forth, however by the time they found an open spot to gain access to I-80 they were getting low again.

  Sadie pulled over at a tangle of cars and said, “I'll keep watch while you go check em for gas. The hose is in the back.”

  “The hose? To siphon with? I don't know how to siphon gas. Do you?”

  “John always did it, but it can't be too hard. He was a petard remember?” She tried to be cute about it but Neil was nervous. When it came to direct hands on projects he was notorious for being mechanically inept.

  Neil tossed down each of the jerry cans and then fished around beneath the mayhem in the back for the hose. With Sadie keeping watch, he went to each car and found a few with tanks that were nearly full. “Here goes nothing.”

  When it came to siphoning, he only knew that he had to suck at one end of the hose while keeping the other end within the fuel, but after that…

  After that came vomiting. The fuel wasn't easy to bring up from the tank and when it did he sucked it right into his lungs. It was horrible beyond the telling and he choked and then began to vomit up the franks and beans he had for lunch. Sadie came over with a hunting rifle over one arm and a bottle of water.

  “You're not very good at that,” she commented, handing over the water.

  �
�Maybe you want to try it?” Neil groused, between hacking coughs.

  “You're the man here, not me.”

  “Yes I guess I am. Sorry, but this tastes horrible,” he said.

  She gave her patented half-shrug, lifting only her right shoulder. “John used to put his thumb on the end between, you know, sucks. And then when it got close he'd put the end down into the plastic can.”

  Neil tried this approach, biting back a wave of crankiness over the fact that she had failed to mention this little helpful hint before. And then the gas came gushing along the tube and he sat back feeling a touch of competence.

  Sadie climbed up on the car and began rocking it. “John used to have me do this. I don't know why. So what did you do before? I'm betting you weren't a mechanic.”

  Why did it seem that she put him down with every sentence? And why did he care? She was a kid, who was exactly half his age. It shouldn't have mattered at all, but it still did.

  “I was a corporate raider,” he answered. “I was one of the most feared men on wall-street.” He had hoped that she would be somewhat impressed, but she set her lips and raised an eyebrow.

  “I may not know what a petard is, but I know what a corporate raider is. I saw Pretty Woman. I know what Bane Capitol was. You destroyed companies for your own greed. You fired people just so you could make a buck.”

  The gas fumes were giving him a head-ache and he didn't think he could win with this girl—and again the question of why he would even want to came to mind. It certainly wasn't sexual. She was nothing but a kid.

  “If that's what you think then you should probably try reading a book, maybe learning something instead of watching movies. Corporate raider is a fancy and not a very descriptive name for what we really do. I was in mergers and acquisitions. And we not only saved jobs, but created them as well.”

  “That's not how it is in the movies, and before you get all high and mighty they told us about corporate raiders in school too.”

  “Teachers never had to make a bottom line, do they?” Neil replied and again attempted to boost his image in her eyes. “Let me explain as easily as I can. Let's say you had a bunch of grapes. If one got moldy it might spread to the rest and ruin all of them, so what do you do? You cut the one off to save all the rest. In essence that's what we do. Yes, we fire people, but when the rest of the company starts picking up and doing better they hire people back.”

  She raised an eyebrow and said, “Well it sounds awful boring either way. I bet you're glad that's over with.”

  “No, I don't,” Neil said, dropping his chin. “My life wasn't great…I mean on a personal level it sucked. I was lonely. But I was happy with my work. I made good money and I could point to many successes where I helped people. I figured the rest of my life would turn around eventually. You know a girlfriend and maybe a family. But now, I think I'm built even less for this world than the old one.”

  “I think you're doing fine,” she said, with a little smile. “You're a survivor and there aren't that many people left who can say that. And look: you have this fine truck and all this food and you have me for a friend. What more could you need?”

  “To find a way west,” he answered. “And somewhere to bath. I feel gross with all this gas on me.” His needs were met; that evening he bathed in a clear lake in the middle of Pennsylvania, and after, the two slept soundly high up in the monster truck—she in the front, he on the long bench in the back—and neither stirred as an army of zombies crested like a wave at the top of a hill and flowed around them.

  Chapter 23

  Sarah

  The Island

  At night the Island wasn't the calmest of places. Gunfire rang out frequently and a gunshot at one end of the island was only slightly muted at the other. Sarah's sleep was even worse compared to most. She dreamed of her daughter and then of the colonel and then of Veronica. This last wasn't a sexual dream and she was glad for that. If it had been it would have only added to her confusion.

  Her one lesbian experience had been so good and yet she knew it would never likely be repeated. The circumstances she had been under: the pressure, and the fear, and the great mental taboo, and the girl, Veronica not being a lesbian either had helped tremendously, these all added up to a moment that could not be replicated.

  Especially not that night. It was one thing to sneak into a dark tent and explore another woman and be explored by her, it was another thing entirely to do it under the watchful eyes of the colonel. It wasn't going to be a magical moment, it was going to be do or die. If Veronica was on the verge of being sent to the platoons, that meant Sarah would have only one or two chances to show the colonel what a good little whore she was or she would be sent packing.

  And no matter how the girls spun it, the idea of being a platoon whore was a terror for her. She would go crazy for certain, and then what would happen to her parents? Along with all the other “non-essentials”, they were on the second island, what every one called The Island of Misfit Toys.

  The people there were just that, misfits. Some were parents of soldiers or tag along family members or friends but mostly they were people who just had clung to the unit and wouldn't leave. They did odd jobs such as cleaning the latrines, or cooking, or the laundry. The soldiers barely regarded them as people.

  After breakfast, Sarah had crossed over the rickety pontoon bridge that connected the two islands and visited her parents. Both put on painfully fake smiles.

  “We have jobs,” Denise said. “They're not such good ones, but I can't complain.”

  Gary Rivers agreed and smiled agreeably though he smelled overwhelmingly of chemicals. His eyes were bright red from them. “And what of you?” he asked looking at her sharply, seeing the clean dress she wore and the fact of her painted face—Veronica had helped her with her makeup. “Are you being treated fairly? There are rumors about the colonel.”

  What could she say to her father? That she was a whore, but a high-class whore so it was ok? “If there are, I haven't experienced them. So far he's been a perfect gentleman. Are you getting enough to eat? My tent has a little private stash. It's not much but I can bring some over.”

  Her mother's lips formed happy words but her head shook side to side. Her father was a better liar. “No we have everything we need, but it does come with a price. Time for us to get to work.”

  Sarah watched them go, feeling low, and this Veronica picked up on quickly.

  “Chin up, chin up,” she said. “The colonel likes to make his plans early. He's all about schedules and perfect plans. Are you going to be ok?”

  “Yes, I think so.”

  Veronica looked around and then stepped close with a look of determination and placed her hand on Sarah's right breast. “No, don't flinch. Act like you want me to do this. Press into my hand…good.” She took her hand off and it shook.

  “What about you?” Sarah asked trying to sound nonchalant. “Are you going to say your hand is shaking out of excitement?”

  “Yeah, maybe. I guess,” she said, seeming more nervous even than the day before and Sarah gave her a look. “There's a new girl,” Veronica explained. “Even Cindy is worried.”

  “That pretty?”

  “Yes and that slutty too. When she heard what was to be expected she didn't bat an eye. She says she likes to do everything and I mean everything. She went down a list and let's just say that what we are planning is just a warm up for her.”

  “How's Bobbi taking it?” Sarah asked.

  “I can't worry about her,” Veronica said distractedly.

  Sarah feared that if this experienced woman freaked out things would definitely fall apart and that couldn't happen. She reached out with both hands and took the woman's face in her hands and pulled her in close.

  “We'll start just like this,” she said and then kissed Veronica deeply and felt a zing down below. “It'll work. He'll love us.”

  Her confidence was misplaced. When the colonel came in to “Check on his girls” his eyes wen
t to the new girl. She was tan, raven haired and very pretty; what was more she was wearing a very high cut pair of denim shorts that had most of her tight ass hanging out. Sarah owned underwear that covered more than the shorts.

  “Good, I'm glad to hear you're all getting along,” he said easily, and then just as the day before he looked the girls up and down. Cindy stood as far from the new girl as she could, while poor Bobbi looked sick. Veronica and Sarah held hands, hoping that the colonel would notice. Unfortunately the new girl sucked all the oxygen out of the room.

  The colonel, eyeing the new girl’s tan thighs, began, “I was hoping that…”

  “Excuse me sir?” Veronica interrupted. “Sarah has a question for you, but she's too shy to spit it out.”

  “What is it?” he asked, but now he saw that the girls were holding hands and then he saw Veronica's left hand was out of sight behind Sarah; there was movement to her dress and it was clearly captivating.

  “If you pick her, she wants to know if I can come too. I think it'll be fun.” Veronica's smile was all vixen.

  “That does sound like fun,” Colonel Williams said, his eyes widening at the idea. “I'll see you two tonight at seven.”

  The plan did not go over well with the others. “You fucking bitch,” Cindy seethed at Veronica. “Why didn't you choose me? I would have been much better than her.”

  Bobbi went to her cot and cried, repeating over and over: “That's so unfair.” And then she sat up with an idea and turned to the new girl. “We could do that too. We can be a team.”

  The new girl made a dismissive noise and said, “I don't need a partner. I'm more than he can handle all by myself.”

  And then came the waiting. Sarah and Veronica went through a plan of action for that night, move by move. When they would jettison this article of clothing or that, when they would kiss and when they would move to the next position. They memorized the plan until each could repeat it by heart. Veronica grew more relaxed, but Sarah felt her insides tighten.