ZOMBIES… BOOK ONE Christian Jensen
ZOMBIES…The Beginning of the END
Chapter 1:
In the beginning:
On a desolate mountain road, just before the first pinkish hues began to light the morning sky in the east, it all started with a horrible crash.
Jeff was dead; his mangled body lay partially under the overturned frame of his tractor-trailer. Shattered bones protruded from twisted chords of muscle and peeled flesh, the hideous carnage punctuated with copious amounts of blood. His remaining eye blankly stared down the road, as if searching for help that would forever be too late.
From somewhere off to the side the monotonous electronic scream of an emergency siren warbled out a dying call. The police car rested on its side like a forgotten toy. The front half was destroyed; fluids and steam leaked from the engine, windows shattered into tiny shards of safety glass that littered the scene, each one reflecting the glow of a chemical fire, shinning orange like scattered embers. Inside the ruined police cruiser, the officer died painfully as blood filled his lungs and left him drowning, wide-eyed and terrified.
The hulking wreck of the truck sluggishly belched greasy smoke and orange flames, while a massive hole torn into the chemical tanker poured something horrible onto the blacktop.
There had been an accident.
II
Jeff knew he was too tired to drive, but the offer of double overtime for eight hours was too good to pass up. The mortgage was late, again, and if he didn’t get things under control soon he would loose his house. The extra money would get him back up to even, and this was a nightly run. All he had to do was drive the rig for thirty miles, wait around while the tech geeks unloaded the chemicals, and then drive back. Three hours max, and he would get paid for eight. At double overtime Jeff would be making sixty an hour, and that was an extra four hundred and eighty dollars a day. Twenty four hundred dollars a week would get his mortgage current, pay off his wife’s car, and keep the kids in new clothes. Hell, it might even get him the big screen TV he was lusting after, a couple sizes larger than his brother had just bought.
Jeff jumped on the opportunity, regardless of the fact that he didn’t have a hazardous materials endorsement on his CDL. This run wasn’t exactly on the books anyway. The chemicals came from one business that didn’t exist to another, always in the middle of the night, always with an escort. The truth of the matter was any smart man would have steered way clear of this job, but Jeff wasn’t in a position to be picky. He wasn’t about to admit defeat and give up his home.
So Jeff headed out just after three in the morning. It was an hour after the bars closed and two hours before the early birds hit the highway on their way to work. He had driven for twenty miles without seeing any other cars around, except for the police escort that drove just ahead of him with it’s blue light strobing away.
The cop behind the wheel, Sergeant Andrew Davies, was in much the same predicament as Jeff, except his came from three ex-wives and the child support that followed such things. He needed the money, and despite the covert way in which this job was handled he was happy to have it. All he had to do was drive in front of a tractor for thirty miles, then sit outside the gate and wait while they unloaded. When the truck left the gate Andrew’s job was done, and he could head home to wife number four.
Andrew was tired, but he never would have struck the drunk driver if the damn idiot had left his lights on.
Kevin Boyd was celebrating his promotion, drinking more than he ever had before. Life had just gotten very good, and he intended on living it up. When the bar closed at two Kevin bribed the manager with five hundred dollars to keep the party going. He stumbled to his car after saying goodbye to all the well wishers and hangers on that would be a constant source of amusement for him, now that he was a full partner in his law firm. He wasn’t really worried about crashing his car; he planned on buying a new Mercedes in the morning anyway.
Kevin pulled out of the parking lot and headed for the highway, passing the on ramp and deciding that it didn’t matter which way he went, as long as it got him home. Without his headlights on the road was dark, but Kevin’s stewed mind was beyond such rationales as he made a sharp turn and headed the wrong way up the off ramp, and proceeded north in the southbound lanes.
Andrew was cresting a hill, his police cruiser humming along, windows down and rapidly cooling coffee in his hand. He had the radio on loud, something from the eighties blasting out of the speakers. The static wail and monotonous chatter of the police radio was a low background noise, easily ignored by any veteran cop. He sipped from the coffee, then replaced it in the cup holder and shook a cigarette out of his pack.
In that split second three things happened; Andrew’s eyes left the road for a second as he touched the flame of his lighter to the cigarette, a very drunk Kevin hit the apex of the hill just as Andrew did, the noses of the two cars three feet apart, and directly behind them Jeff picked that very moment to close his eyes, exhaustion finally overcoming him.
The police cruisers heavier frame smashed into Kevin’s Mazda, causing the front end of the smaller car to crumple up and shoot under the cruiser. The police car shot into the air, flipping end over end as the Mazda limped off the road. The resulting noise from the crash jolted Jeff awake, his instincts kicking in and filling his body with adrenaline. He did the calculations in his head and knew there was no time to stop, so he cut the wheel hard to the right, his foot hitting the brake harder than intended. The tires screamed as they lost traction, the trailer unable to slow down as rapidly as the tractor. Something thick and metallic snapped as the tractor jack-knifed, toppling the truck and sending the chemical trailer up and over just as Jeff was thrown from the wreckage.
Kevin was too drunk to realize what had happened, his disoriented mind simply shutting down. His body went limp and remained relaxed without a single major injury.
Andrew screamed as his car pin wheeled end over end, eventually coming to rest on the side. The front end was pushed far enough in to shove the dashboard and steering wheel against his body, cracked lungs stabbing him in the ribs.
Jeff lost consciousness when his head smashed into the pavement, his body continued down the road in a clumsy cartwheel. The bones of his arms and legs shattered, stabbing through the skin and allowing everything to twist into knots. His ribs crashed into the guardrail, the cracked bones tearing through muscle and flesh, leaving gaping wounds big enough for intestines and organs to slip through. Finally his forward momentum ended just as the cab of his tractor came down, pinning his legs and crushing the bones into powder. Internal injuries would have killed him of the lack of blood didn’t accomplish the job first.
Andrew was shoved uncomfortable on his side in the car, unsure of what to do first. Screaming seemed like the only viable option, so he started with that. He wasn’t aware of the chemical smell that filled the air at first, but as a yellowish vapor filled the ruined interior of his car he couldn’t help but realize that whatever was in the truck he was escorting was now all over the road. He wanted to cry, but a sudden coughing fit was sending blackish blood out of his mouth, and the resulting pain mercifully brought unconsciousness
Unable to breath now that he was dead the chemical smog did nothing to Jeff, but when the liquid rolled down the hill and soaked him something happened. Brain function returned to the most basic of places, and a spark of life lit in his eyes. Ruined arms began to flail about, a low moan rumbled from the punctured lungs. There wasn’t enough left of Jeff’s forearms to make them useful, but somehow he was able to use the bones of his upper arms like crutches, digging the broken pieces into the blacktop and tearing the top half of his body from under the wreck. Vacant eyes scanned the area, the scent of living flesh screaming at him from down the road.
The going was slow. Had he been alive the pain would be maddening, and despite his desires and hunger Jeff would have succumbed to his injuries within seconds. None of these things mattered now that he was so much more, and so much less, than a normal living man. One thought wormed through the dark synapses of his brain; FEED.
Andrew began to convulse, his body going through the final death rattle as he inhaled the toxic fumes that filled the interior of his police cruiser. In life Andrew was limited by the incredible pain of his predicament, trapped inside the twisted metal of his cruiser. In death he was finally granted release from the pain, but death was only a temporary thing now. Without the limitations of his living body Andrew eventually worked himself free of the wreck by breaking bones and slipping out of ruined skin.
Unlike Jeff, Andrews’s arms were intact and he was able to drag the ruined legs behind him much easier. Jeff was nearly at the top of the hill where the smell of living flesh called to them, but Andrew was in better shape and able to close the distance between then quickly. His moan filled the night in a way that Jeff’s ruined throat couldn’t, the sound heralding a new era.
Andrew and Jeff worked their way across the ground like bloody salamanders, their ruined lower halves dragging behind them as they approached Kevin’s car.
It’s said that god looks out for idiots and drunks. In some ways this held true for Kevin, whose car had continued to roll up the hill, finally stopped by the guardrail on the apex. The ruined truck that currently was spewing toxic chemicals was below him, the weight of the noxious fumes heavier than air, keeping them rolling down the hill rather than up into the atmosphere. He was safe from the fumes, but not from what they created.
Kevin heard something. Actually he heard a lot of things, but none of them made any sense. There was a loud hissing sound coming from the front of his car, steam billowing white and angry into the night. There was the sound of running water, coming from somewhere below him as if a floodgate had opened. And then there was the moaning. He struggled to collect his thoughts, to replay the last few minutes of consciousness that would tell him what the hell had happened. Someone was going to get sued over this, and it damn sure wasn’t going to be him.
His head hurt, his chest was sore, and his face felt like he had bad sunburn. With a bit of dismay Kevin finally realized that he had been in an accident, and a quick self-assessment brought good news; he was unhurt. Drunk, but unhurt. The moaning that filtered in through the broken drivers side window told him not everyone was so lucky. Kevin knew nothing about first aid, but he did know that it would look better for him in court if he waited for an ambulance to show up rather than rushing out to try and help whoever had caused this clusterfuck.
Sighing to himself Kevin checked his reflection in the mirror. Small burns and scratches covered his face, leaving bloody trails and raw spots.
“Fuck me.” He gritted his teeth and pounded a fist into the steering wheel. He was supposed to start his new job as a Partner on Monday. How the hell was he supposed to do that when he looked like someone who had just gotten into a bar fight?
Something was scratching against the bottom of his door, the moaning louder now. Unsure of what to do Kevin chose just to ignore it. He wasn’t a doctor, there was no help he could give these people. Besides, he had other concerns; he may have had a couple drinks at his party, and there was a slim chance that he may be over the legal alcohol limit. Despite the fact that he was still completely drunk, Kevin chose to only consider himself mildly impaired. He could figure out a way to make this a fact later on, bribing the blood technician at the hospital or finding one of the doctors on staff that was on his law firm’s payroll. What he needed to do right now was get himself as sober as possible. If the police thought he was drunk when they arrived it would reflect on their reports, and that could be damaging in court.
A bloody hand reached up into the window and searched around, grabbing at the air and making Kevin scream.
“Help me!” Kevin wailed, his voice breaking as he tried to make himself sound both sober and injured. “Hello? Who’s out there? I’m trapped and hurt. Call an ambulance. Help Me!”
The hand continued to grope around, seemingly attracted by the sound of his voice. Kevin lurched away from the bloody thing, trying to keep as much distance between the ruined digits as possible. He could clearly see the bones sticking out of several fingers, the blocky shadow of others protruding into the skin where they should remain flat. The moan grew louder, joined by another, weaker sound. He could hear things smashing into the door, the scratch of something hard as it cut across the metal door.
“I don’ t know who’s out there.” Kevin was struggling with his seat belt. He very desperately wanted to get away from the drivers side, regardless of the legal implications of leaving his car. “You better leave me alone. I’m hurt, I need help.”
The moaning grew louder every time he spoke, echoing through the night. Finally Kevin found the clasp for his seatbelt, depressing the button just as an entire arm shot in through the window and took desperate hold of his shirt. Kevin screamed, his hand beating at the clutching fist, eyes snaking up the missing skin and torn muscle to where it joined with a grossly swollen shoulder and a face straight out of hell.
The attackers face was a mess of ruined skin, which hung in bloody tatters off the yellow chipped bone. One eye was sunk deep into its socket, gnarled and unseeing. Clear, milky fluid flowed like tears down the side of a shattered nose; the bridge so crushed it lay flat, nostrils torn into a single opening. Most of the man’s teeth were broken. The bloody maw that opened and heralded the moan was nothing but an oversized gash with jagged yellow bony pieces sticking from bloody gums. Its tongue was a dark purple, swollen and squirming around like a bloated snake.
Kevin screamed until he couldn’t scream any longer, his hands clamped onto the fleshless forearm in a distressed attempt to break the grip. Despite the obvious damage and pain his attacker must be in Kevin was unable to break free. He was slowly being pulled forward, his body moving closer to the gnashing jaws full of broken teeth. He placed both hands on the window frame, every muscle in his body screaming out, but finally he stopped moving forward. Suddenly very sober Kevin knew he couldn’t hold this thing off forever. He needed to do something drastic; removing his left hand Kevin jammed his thumb into the dead man’s good eye. His finger pressed through the gooey warmth, popping it and sending creamy liquid over his hand. He hit the hard skull beyond the eye, but the damage did nothing to free him.
Kevin screamed louder, shouting for help as he was brought ever closer to the biting mouth. Thinking he could surprise the attacker and grant a second or two to escape Kevin open the door, shoving with all his strength. To his surprise it opened easily, the body of his attacker moving backwards and out of the way as Kevin jumped from his seat and worked to tug himself free.
Bright pain bloomed in his leg, moving through his nervous system and lighting his mind on fire. A quick glance down showed Kevin a second attacker, this one obviously more injured, it’s ruined face barely recognizable as that of a person. Its mouth was clamped down on the muscle of Kevin’s leg. As he watched the thing tore a chunk of muscle and skin away, shaking it’s head violently from side to side as it tore the morsel free and quickly chewed and swallowed it.
Struggling to get away Kevin stepped back, his legs twisting in the gnarled mess that was the second attackers body. Kevin lost his balance, falling to his knees as the first attacker bit violently into the muscles of his forearm. Pain bloomed again as another bite was taken from his thigh, and then another from the side of his face. Kevin screamed until nothing more would come out, the two men biting quickly into his body over and over again, eating him alive. Kevin’s pain eventually receded, his blood covering the ground, as the night grew colder.
Eventually everything stopped, and the night grew silent once more.
III
Kevin opened his eyes at the sound of approaching sirens, his hunger suddenly the only coherent thought in an otherwise dead brain.
Chapter 2
Stan and the town of HAVEN
Stringy hair and pieces of her skull exploded outwards, blood and ruined brains flying through the air like curdled tapioca. Dead eyes remained expressionless and filmy, the slack way her jaw hung open allowing the black, bloated tongue to loll around, swaying to the side as the rotting muscles on too-thin legs gave out. She didn’t make another sound; her body simply flopped to the grass and continued to rot, her body finally unmoving and truly dead. The rifles report echoed through the field like thunder, followed by the metallic clacking of the bolt action being engaged as another round slipped into the chamber.
Carl chewed the cigar absentmindedly as he laid on the damp ground, his eye pressed tightly into the scope, breath coming slow and even as the dead ambled forward. Their groans were getting loud enough to make Carl’s balls shrivel up. He hated that fucking sound. It was like a toothache; a constant droning that ebbed and flowed without ever stopping.
This was a pretty big group, nearly forty of them in all scattered through the field. Carl and Stan followed protocol and shot the dead from a distance until they could safely move in and put the rest down with their hammers and machetes. Carl was taking his shots calmly, moving through the crowd and picking them off one by one while Stan watched his back and made sure nothing came up behind them.
The sun had just risen over the trees making it almost comfortably warm. Stan looked over at his companion, wondering how the big man could just lay on the wet grass like this; Stan was cold just standing there, dry and wrapped up in his sweatshirt. He moved back and forth, dancing on the heels of his feet like a kid who has to go to the bathroom as he tried to keep warm, and there was Carl laying in the wet grass with sweat on his head.
As he looked around Stan caught site of a fresh zombie rushing through the woods at them, a teenager wearing little more than a tattered shirt and horribly stained underwear. He was big enough to make things interesting, his eyes dead but still wild in that way the fresh ones get.