Zombie River Run Read online

  These people have to be subjugated under some sort of tyrant! Mortimer could only imagine what type of warlord reigned over these poor slaves. It was too late to turn around now, he realized. The senior just hoped to make it all the way through this ghetto without being made.

  ☠☠☠

  What seemed like years went by. The couple never thought they would get their truck out of the throng. Every turn took them deeper into this inner-city slum. People seemed to fill the street as they walked to wherever they were going. All kept their heads down. Mortimer made sure to set his eyes on any that were brave enough to look up, just to appear that he had some authority. He propped his rifle on the seat and tried to look intimidating.

  While trying to keep a scowl on his face, he mumbled to Margaret. “I think we’re almost out. Have you seen anyone armed or carrying themselves like they have some power?”

  “Not one. Where are we, anyway?”

  He spoke harshly to her. “Fuck if I know.” Mortimer instantly realized who he was speaking to and softened his tone. “I’m not sure. Maybe we can figure it out when we get out of here.”

  The mass of dingy laborers gradually began dissipating. The old man sped up. A few more blocks, and they would be able to see fully around them. As they came to the intersection before the last couple of buildings on the outskirts of town, a rusted out Ford Taurus slammed into the driver side of the four-wheel-drive. Metal groaned and tires exploded. Mortimer could hear the woman that had stolen his heart in just a few days scream before everything went BLACK.

  4

  Mo Journal Entry 1

  IF YOU HAVEN’T realized it yet, I’m not going to update my journal every day when absolutely nothing worth mentioning happens. It’s strange; I almost missed the days of being constantly almost murdered or infected. You can ask anyone that has ever spent any time around me; I’m one of the laziest and most boring individuals in existence. It’s amazing that I had friends before the shit hit the fan, I’d rather stay at home on a Friday night than go out to party and socialize.

  I guess in the past few weeks I’ve grown accustomed to the looming threat of constant death. It has me almost itching to go do something stupid. Not that I’ve had any reason to question or doubt the gospel of Smokes, but I’ve been so bored. It would be difficult to call me a fervent believer so I guess that makes me a backslider.

  We came to yet another dam. I assumed it was going to be just as damn boring as every other lock and dam we had been through, dammit. There was absolutely no way to tell our exact location, this was just another nondescript block of concrete in the water. Yes, I know I could’ve simply read the fucking signs, but that’s too much trouble.

  Desperately yearning for some action as you probably expected, I’m now going to bitch and complain about what I had been seeking. I want what I want until I have it.

  Not that I remember being involved in the discussion, but apparently the entire crew decided that we would randomly choose a pair of bodyguards to accompany Aka at each dam or lock opening. My name had come up for this particular outing. It’s impossible to understand why the hell I was even included as a protector candidate for the only person that could get us off the fucking river. What with my less than satisfactory marksmanship skills and my zero wrestling championship awards. Shouldn’t Easy and Bradley automatically volunteer every time we come to another hurdle? If they truly wanted to get home or anywhere else ever again, you’d think they would want to keep her as safe as possible. Plus, you know, Aka is my brother’s wife and all. Yeah, I know Bradley’s in a wheelchair and dams probably aren’t ADA compliant. But I’m sure he could work around it.

  I guess it’s like “Ex-Heroes,” even though they have a flying superhero that is immune to the zombie virus, regular people still go out and risk death to salvage. By the way, I’ve had time to listen to some of Smokes’s audio books on this journey. That just shows there needs to be fairness between the super humans and the rest of us normal people. I should thank Peter Clines for proving that my surviving companions are not the only ones with brain damage.

  It needs to be asked. How are these random names chosen? I’ve never pulled a straw or guessed a number. Maybe it’s like The Lottery, everyone’s name gets thrown into a hat and two people are picked to die horribly.

  On this day, I had been slated to be a human shield for my sister-in-law and God saw fit to partner me with Gene. Seriously, I believe this is punishment for not being ambitious throughout my life. I could have been partnered with bodybuilders like my brother or The Old Friend, a super soldier like The Expert, or even ninjas like the Phantoms.

  I’m automatically excluding The Man of God from this drawing because while he probably would be more useful than either me or The Tech, he’s old and we need somebody to pray for us. Smokes gets a get out of jail free card because I’m sure his lazy, fat ass has developed some medical excuse as a reason why he needs to stay on the boat and be worthless. Crow wouldn’t be in the drawing because screaming at peevies won’t make them cower and go away. Even if The Love Interest volunteered to help because she didn’t want this guaranteed disaster of a trip to be a complete failure, I would ultimately refuse to let her go. Because, you know, I’m a man... with muzzle and shit. I wouldn’t let my woman risk her life for an undoubtedly fruitless cause.

  Of course, nothing’s easy for me. I get stuck with an asthmatic who jumps when a 22 is fired! Apparently the other crew members had a meeting without me. “Hey, we could use at least one responsible bodyguard to defend our only way out of here. But fuck logic and lucidity, those are attributes of the sane. Let’s choose the guys that are more likely to shoot themselves by accident than to save the only dam technician!”

  ☠☠☠

  “Yeah, it kinda looks like it. But fuck if I know.” I agreed with the Ebony beauty, it did look like someone had been in this powerhouse recently.

  The three of us had made it through the interior of the dam. We went up a metal staircase, down a hallway that was concrete block on either side with the grated metal floor, and into a room that I would ignorantly call a reactor room. It was the room with all the buttons.

  From out in the powerhouse and basically everywhere else there were footprints in the light dust. Though we were unable to determine if they were left by bare feet or shoes, we had not been attacked or seen anything moving. You’d think that peevies would have smelled us before we got this far into the complex. They should have heard us clanking across the metal grated walkways and stairs or heard Gene wheezing from the exertion of walking. This was boring.

  Aka pressed some buttons in the reactor room and the power began blinking on. She was now supposed to open one side, allow the ship to pass through the lock, close the lock, raise or lower the water level depending on location, open the second lock, and wait for the ship to radio a successful pass. Well, some locks only have one door. It’s boring as shit and takes an extremely long time to complete the entire task. I’m not going to walk you through the process every time it happens. Just know that if something went wrong and I somehow survived I would tell you about it.

  My sister-in-law’s radio sounded. “Iron Man here. We are good to go and waiting for your return, Storm. Over and out.”

  My dad would probably shed a tear. My brother is apparently his father’s son. I have to ask. Iron Man, Storm? I know Easy knows who those superheroes are. Everyone watches movies. But I would’ve expected my extremely muscular sibling to use a radio call sign like the name of a protein powder or a brand of weights or something. Regardless, I was going to have to tell Gene to stop giving my brother comic books.

  ☠☠☠

  Our task was complete and we had been entirely unmolested. Of course, that wasn’t going to last long. For some strange reason, I unselfishly offered to take point and let The Tech guard Aka’s rear. Yeah, I would much rather have been back there, it was the better view. Confidently depending on this Cylon armor to protect me,
I casually walked down the metal stairs not even carrying my gun at the ready.

  Just as I came to the ground from the metal stairwell almost directly below my companions, I began hearing the animal howls of the undead. I shouted for the others somewhere still above me.

  The man in the brotherhood of steel armor extended his claws and reached for his shotgun in acknowledgment. My unarmored sister-in-law drew her dual pistols as they moved forward. A nude and slobbering granny fell out of a door a few yards in front of Aka. The monster was directly above me while my two compatriots were on down the hall.

  Rather than paying attention to easily accessible food, the monster chose to focus on the physically closest human, me. It had no chance of breaking through the floor and I could do nothing but watch as the animal uselessly clawed at the grated metal between us. I was unable to shoot the blue creature, transfixed on the animal ferocity of the peevie. After what felt like hours of watching it try to rip through the floor, The Tech blasted the rabid cannibal with his Mass Effect Eviscerator or Borderlands rocket shotgun.

  The monster basically exploded. I continued to look straight up as the newly liquefied body parts ran through the grate and directly onto me. Thank God for the body condom and the helmet I was wearing. Otherwise, I would now be blue and pants-less because I was unable to do anything but keep my gaze fixed on the recently butchered slab of dripping meat above me. I had to make sure every possible drop of peevie slopped down and into every tiny opening of the armor. I’m amazed I had no paper cuts or ripped cuticles that would allow the infection to seep into my body.

  Because the Cylon suit couldn’t be watertight, I was basically marinating in former human juice from that point on. “Really, Gene? You could’ve let her put a couple rounds in it instead of dumping a peevie purée on me!”

  He winced. “Sorry! Hey, at least you won’t get infected if you are wearing the under armor correctly.” He made it sound as if I couldn’t do anything correctly. My reply was a raised middle finger in his direction whether he could see it or not.

  I slowly crept forward while my companions caught up with me from upstairs. Gene was slashing while Aka was blowing holes through peevies all the way. I only caught glimpses of the action above in between taking pot shots at peevies and actually using my hands to lift my fucking legs.

  Have you ever walked through knee-deep mud while wearing boots? If so, now imagine your boots were metal and you have a clear picture of the difficulty I had taking steps. Just picture the soupy slop weighting you down from the inside of your boots. I was literally on the verge of vomiting or passing out at each chunky slosh.

  In high school, I enjoyed going to the lab and cutting up a frog in biology. I wouldn’t consider myself a germaphobe or to have a weak stomach. But soaking in juices of what used to be a person would turn championship gastrointestinal fortitude to water.

  I looked up to see Aka unloading both pistols into what seem like uncountable undead. The armored knight pounded buckshot into the mass of blue bodies as they moved forward. With both of them looking behind, my sister-in-law didn’t see this small zombie coming from an open door in front of them. I knew the moment I saw what was happening, they wouldn’t be able to hear my yells over the insane amount of gunfire.

  I lifted my rifle and fired, sparking against graded metal. I wasn’t really trying to hit the thing; I know I’m a shitty shot. I was just trying to get Aka’s attention and it obviously worked. She turned, to see what used to be a child or an extremely old former human, almost on her.

  She screamed at The Tech and dropped. He stopped firing, stood, and spun on his heel. He brought one clawed fist around and sliced through the throat and chest of the small beast. It fell back, choking and gurgling as it took its last few breaths.

  My amigos caught up with me after decimating almost the entirety of the naked horde that appeared behind them. I feel proud of myself, having hit and at least wounded several peevies coming my way before my backup arrived. Things quieted as we trekked up and out of this concrete tomb.

  I’m unsure why I didn’t simply stop and empty out some of the cooling broth from my suit of armor. We still had the occasional insane nudist running in our direction, so I suppose I felt safer in my personal crock-pot of goop. Our trio made it outside and I forced myself to push on to the waiting Cora.

  I was guessing that my painfully slow pace appeared as a leisurely trot to those that hadn’t witnessed my traumatizing experience. The cook started to throw the rope ladder over the side like she always did. I protested, sounding as if I had just finished a marathon. “Don’t you dare throw that fucking thing down here, you sumbitch.”

  Sitting on a bench, emptying my boots of the zombie stew, Crow’s shrill reply came down. “The fuck you say, white boy? Maybe I just leave your pale ass on the ground!”

  She was about to walk away and force me to radio an adult. But Aka used her feminine charms to convince Crow to lower the gangplank. She relented and I was satisfied. I was over encumbered by so much water weight that I was going to have to get down to nothing but my boxer briefs and socks before I made my way onto the ship.

  Hurrying straight down to I took the longest and most cleansing shower of my life. With the steaming water running, I was confident no one could hear my disgusted sobs and body shaking wretches. If I live to one hundred and see a therapist every single day, I will still cry and possibly get sick when talking about the most horrible thing that has ever happened to me. I wonder if anal rape would be less torturous. Wait never mind. If I had to choose, I think I’d rather be basted in body parts AGAIN.

  5

  Into the Wild

  MAYOR RANDY COLLINS had been feeling cooped up in the county courthouse in Guntersville. His eldest, Elmo “Mo” Collins, and the entire crew of the Viva Ancora were traveling down the river and would not be back for a long time. The mayor’s other, and Mo would argue his favorite, son Ezekiel “Easy” Collins, was accompanying Mo on this trip. Easy would have been invaluable in reconstruction of society. But his absence could be tolerated, only because it greatly increased the chances of Mo’s survival and return with the alleged cure.

  Dr. Philip George the Indian cardiologist turned out to be more than just a cardiologist. The doctor was also a deep cover agent with the NSG Phantom HITs –compare to a U.S. Navy SEAL. The Medicine Man had recently informed the survivors of a doctor stranded somewhere in the Caribbean. This European specialist radioed he supposedly had a cure for the infection that rapidly overtaken the world.

  Dr. George, Randy’s sons, and all the other main protagonists were headed down the Tennessee River and on to the coast on Mo’s replica pirate ship. They were hoping to retrieve either the doctor or the cure. Radio communication had been severed with the traveling band carrying the antidote; the exact whereabouts of this claimed remedy were unknown.

  The mayor was tired from the daily grind of governing and dealing with rumors promising of paradise. He enjoyed restructuring civilization, but he needed a break. Deer hunting had always been one of his leisure activities. Now, it was given as a task to provide for the survival of the community. Randy decided he would gladly pitch in by providing the island with some meat. He chuckled when thinking about it, and I will get to enjoy it.

  ☠☠☠

  Randy stepped from a procured SUV and began the trek to the green field. The accompanying civilians each carried a long gun, pistol, and some sort of knife. Large hunting knives, sharpened garden tools, and even kitchen knives were prevalent after May Day. There was no need to make it mandatory, nearly every islander was armed all the time even on the secured sanctuary! No one was going to let their guard down when a peevie could possibly breach their points of entry.

  The interim mayor was proud of his surviving community. Just what everybody needed to begin with, a healthy case of prepper paranoia! The surviving population was just the kind of patriots America needed, Randy decided. At least, when there was an America.r />
  The hunters parked the truck a few hundred yards down the highway from the field where they planned to drop a few deer. Their green field was actually an empty parking lot with a bale of hay resting in the middle. Contrary to what most environmentalists would have you believe, wild animals would much rather travel along cleared pathways like paved roads than trudge through thick forest. Any hunter could tell you, deer are lazy. They enjoyed staying in the open sunlight especially now, given that the woods were crawling with peevies.

  Though no longer nocturnal, the infected homo-sapiens normally stayed out of direct sunlight. It was common, as of late, for most wild animals to stay just in the shade of the tree line, able to spring to the safety of light at any moment.

  There was a ladder stand and a simple, camouflage, pop-up blind positioned just in line with the hay bale. The fourth hunter would be tasked with looking for smaller game like birds or picking berries. The mayor didn’t even realize he had made the decision until the man started walking off alone.

  Randy was glad that two of the men were equipped with shotguns. You’s always is at da place you is always post to be. The Oracle’s words flashed across his mind. It put him at peace to think things were ordered, predestined. Everything went according to plan. Sometimes even The Screenwriter’s plan seemed undesirable for insignificant characters, like the hunters who came with the mayor.

  It was hard to understand at first, why there would be three hunters on one field. Why wouldn’t the people who earlier positioned the ladder stand put it in another field? Because it would not be safe to leave a single man alone with no backup, Randy instantly realized.