Zombie Apocalypse Now! Part 1
Rachel Tsoumbakos
COPYRIGHT © 2015 by Rachel Tsoumbakos
MYRDDIN PUBLISHING GROUP
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or are used factitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organisations, or persons, living or deceased, is entirely coincidental.
All rights reserved. No part of this manuscript may be used or reproduced in any matter whatsoever without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or review. For information contact the author at [email protected]
BLURB
Four women find themselves in the middle of the zombie apocalypse. Each from different backgrounds and locations, they somehow manage to find each other.
ROSALYN has recently lost her husband and we discover her in the opening scenes, having to defend her house against a zombie child. She has spent the first part of the zombie apocalypse holed up in the roof cavity of her house with a stockpile of food and nothing but diverted rainwater to drink. She may be quiet, but she sure is resilient!
BERTA: Say hello to the last surviving crazy cat lady of the apocalypse! Stuck in her home with only her cat, Martin, for company, Berta plots an escape. She plans to rescue Mrs. Chin from across the street also.
It's a shame nothing goes according to plan...
PIPPA: It's not the best time to be bringing a baby into the world, but somehow she is determined to survive childbirth and the zombie apocalypse. While searching for food, she comes across a zombie in a bank, They get to know each other through the bullet-proof glass.
It’s all fun and games until the zombie realises someone left the door open though...
TATIANA: She's your hooker with a heart of gold. Chain smoking, stiletto wearing and still taking customers...
Australian Slang Glossary
Zombie Apocalypse Now! The complete Series is set in Australia and, considering I’m Australian, I have fought to keep the feel of the Australian manner of speech across all my novels without making it overwhelming for a broader audience. However, I have allowed some Australian slang to bleed through into this novel and, as a result, have included some of the more common Australian expressions here (both from this novel and my other titles) in this glossary to make it easier for the worldwide audience.
Arvo – short for afternoon
Ciggies – short for cigarettes
Pokies – Australian term for slot machines. It can also refer to a venue that has these machines. i.e. “I’m going to the pokies.”
Servo – Gas or service station
Cuppa – short for ‘cup of tea’ or ‘cup of coffee’. i.e. “Would you like a cuppa?”
Biscuit – cookie
Commission housing/houses – housing owned by the government of Australia and rented to people in crisis situations (i.e. single parent, disability, mental issues) at a subsidised rental rate
RSL – stands for Returned Services League. This is a large group within Australia consisting of returned war veterans. In the instance of its usage in Unremembered Things, it refers to the local establishments known as RSLs. These are bars and pubs owned by the Returned Services League and are open to the general public. Many towns across Australia will have a local RSL where you can go to drink liquor or to buy a meal even if you are not a member of the Returned Service League. If you can prove you are a returned war veteran of the relative of one, you are eligible to join for a yearly fee. This will entitle a member access to discounted rates at RSLs as well as access to the courtesy buses offered if you live within a certain distance from your local RSL.
Kingston – a popular biscuit/cookie variety that consists of two small coconut and oats cookies wedged together with chocolate cream
Please let me know if I have missed any terms you may not be familiar with and I will promptly update this glossary. You can email me at: [email protected]
And after these things I saw four angels standing on the four corners of the earth, holding the four winds of the earth, that the wind should not blow on the earth, nor on the sea, nor on any tree.
~Revelation 7:1-17
PART ONE: In The Beginning…
In The Beginning….ROSALYN
When it first happened there was panic. Then there was fear. And finally there was killing. Lots of killing. Some of it wasn't even the zombies fault! My best friend Clara was killed by her neighbour, Albert. He took a pitchfork to her and stabbed her in the guts so many times she looked like a cartoon character. I was that far beyond crazy as I hid in the roof and peered out into Albert's yard that I wondered if she'd look like a fountain if she was given a drink.
Yeah, fucked up, I know. It wasn't long after that, while the flies were still buzzing around Clara's bloated corpse and I was starting to get worried about my lack of supplies, that a real zombie visited Albert. It turns out he was the fool my mama always pegged him for. He stuck the zombie with his trusty pitchfork. Trouble was that poking them in the guts does nothing but piss off the undead. That damn thing screamed and yanked the fork out of its intestines and poked poor Albert right back. Hard. Right in the same spot he'd poked it. Albert squealed and tried to run but the puddle of blood at his feet made him slip as he turned. That zombie was on him like cheese on a cracker.
I couldn't help myself. Even when I saw the look of panic in his eyes - and for a moment I even thought Albert saw me up in the hole in the roof - I still couldn't look away. Death is funny, you know. I felt like a voyeur. Like some sort of sick bastard perving down at Albert. To see him in the final throws of death was horrific and yet I still kept thinking about how embarrassed I was to witness it.
All this time later it still hasn't changed.
It took me two weeks to get up the courage to come down out of that roof and make my escape. The roof had those in-built stairs, so I was safe enough while up there, but the trouble was, food was running out. Water was okay though, since I'd diverted the down flow pipe. Still, it took me two days to build up the courage to lower those stairs and climb down.
The house was so silent. Off into the distance I could hear the occasional moan, but inside it was like a tomb. The thought made me shudder. Being as silent as I could while my whole body whimpered in fear, I inched towards the bedroom. While I needed food, it was probably safer to pack a bag first before venturing down to the first floor and possible doom.
Every noise, every creak and groan the house made were like bullets through my brain. I was sure to be the only person to die of a heart attack during the zombie apocalypse! It was only three measly metres from the rickety stairs that were my only safety net and my bedroom. It seemed to take a week to travel that distance.
My room hadn't changed a bit. When I entered it, I was shocked. For a world that had gone from normal to chaos in just under a month, it was strange to find everything still in its place here. I picked up a forgotten jumper and hugged it. Tears were something I could not afford yet.
THUD!
I had to be quick! A moan erupted after a second thump. I was unsure if the zombie could smell me or if it was further on up the street; noise always had travelled weirdly from upstairs. I would have to wait until I reached the kitchen to find out if I was a potential snack for the undead.
Quickly, I pulled a backpack from the wardrobe and loaded it up with as many pairs of jeans, t shirts, jumpers and underwear that would fit. It didn't take long to fill the bag. Ducking into the dark en suite, I snatched up two tubes of toothpaste, my stubby toothbrush and an unopened package of citrus scented soap. It wasn't much
, but space was at a premium.
Shrugging on my backpack and grabbing another bag, I exited my bedroom for the very last time. I didn't look back; I had nowhere to go but forward.
The kitchen. Just when I thought the stairs leading down to the ground floor were scary enough, I realised I had to slide open the door to the tiny kitchen. The muted thudding was increasing in volume. Every now and again I heard a moan, but the closer I got to the kitchen, the quieter the creature was.
I stopped and listened. It was definitely my house the zombie was targeting. Fear made me want to run and hide. Hunger, instead, grabbed me firmly by the shoulders and yanked me forward.
Slowly. Ever so slowly, I reached for the handle. The door stuck as I gingerly pulled at it. Taking a deep breath, I stilled myself and tried again. The door rattled a little but shifted on its rollers this time.
I breathed a sigh of relief.
Stepping through the door, I unzipped the large black sports bag and turned left towards the walk in pantry.
Shit!
The moaning intensified when the creature saw me. Although, perhaps it didn't really see me with its milky eyes, maybe it only smelled me as I approached. Either way, the thudding turned into a frenzy as it tried to butt its way through the door. I counted my lucky stars for Max who lived next door. Only six months ago he'd kicked a football over the fence and through the glass door now in front of me. I sure did whinge at the time about having to replace the old (non-regulation) glass with new and improved tempered safety glass.
It was the only thing that saved me now. I tried not to feel sorry for Max as he butted at the door now.
Swallowing back my terror, I scuttled across the kitchen and opened the pantry door. Inside was the stale smell of old bread and mouse droppings. I covered my nose and pulled out every tin I could find. At the very bottom of the pantry were two casks of water. Ten litres, that's all I had. How far would that get me, I wondered. Sobbing, I grabbed it and the bottle of cooking sherry next to it.
My last stop was the medicine cabinet. It was a high cupboard situated over the top of the oven. I grabbed a chair and dragged it across the kitchen, trying not to look at the slavering beast still butting it's skull against the glass. The chair skittered and scraped before banging into the cupboard beneath the stove. The pans rattled and clanged inside.
Jumping up, I plonked the heavy bag onto the stove top and yanked open the cabinet. Swiping my hand across the shelf, I cleared it in seconds.
And in those seconds, I heard the safety glass shattering into a million little non-threatening pieces. It turned out to be the most dangerous sound in the world.
In The Beginning….BERTA
I can hear Martin. He is scratching and hissing at the front door. The thumps are not his. Those noises belong to the beasts outside. I still can't bring myself to say out loud what they truly are - even if it is only to Martin. That would make it real. I am a coward like that.
"Martin!" I hiss the word, too scared to go and retrieve my cat, yet thinking he'll listen to my voice.
He ignores me. I am too far away, up here on the second floor, for him to hear me apparently. His scratching intensifies. I hope I can keep him safe. Does he miss Heidi, I wonder as I wait in the dark.
I turn away from him, feeling safe in my tiny little house. Instead, I bring my attention to the window. Being this high up, I can see across the street, across the abandoned tram lines to the shops opposite. Every night, as the sun is setting, I sit here and wait, watching. Each night I hope to see a face in the window above the Laundromat.
Mrs. Chin is her name. I have lived here for fifteen years, Mrs. Chin has lived here longer than that still, and I never did find out her first name. Every Wednesday, I locked up the shop downstairs and took my laundry across the road. She was always there, making extra money by ironing shirts as the customers needed them. Constantly smiling and asking how Martin was, and yet, not once, did I care enough to ask her about her family. There was one occasion when I saw a small boy playing cards as she worked. Mrs. Chin spoke to him harshly in Mandarin and the boy quickly packed up his cards and ducked behind the curtain that separated the shop front from the stairs leading up to their living quarters. Was he her son, or her grandson? Maybe now I'll never know.
Ah, there she is. I raise my hand and wave at her. She smiles and frantically waves back at me. Her English has always been broken, and now it seems so too is her writing skills. I lift my white board and hold it to the window.
'How much food do you have left?' It reads. I know the answer, yet still I ask.
'No much food.' Is her answer. I want to correct her phrasing. She pulls down the board and crouches over it. 'How Martin?'
'He eats mice mostly.' I answer.
It makes me sad. Soon there will be nothing left for either of us. The twilight is quickly turning to full blown darkness. I scribble my final message for tonight. 'When are we going to leave?'
Mrs. Chin looks at the sign for the longest time.
'Day after tomorrow?'
I nod at her. She nods back before she pulls her blind. I am alone again.
"Martin!" Bravely I call out this time.
There is a soft whimper as he hears my voice and then one final hiss. I hear soft padding as he makes his way up the stairs. A meow arrives before him and I reach out to pat him as he leaps onto the bed. He purrs as I scratch all his tickly places. Curling up, we both fall asleep to the sounds of moaning coming, constantly, from outside our safe haven.
Blinking, I am awakened by a scream. Leaping up, I am out of bed, spooking Martin as I bound. He skitters off down the stairs. Gone to check on his undead thing at the front door, no doubt.
My first reaction is to look across to Mrs. Chin's window. Her face is there already, a pale mirror image of my own fright.
Another scream.
I look lower, down into the middle of the road. Where the trams used to run there is a car. It wasn't there yesterday. A man is standing on the roof of it. Once more he screams. I hear his words this time.
"Is there anyone there?"
Mrs. Chin is unclicking the latch to her window. My fingers itch to do the same. A moan distracts me. It's coming from the demon at our door. It has moved out into the road. Finally, I now have a face to put to the creature that has butted at our door for nearly a week. I can hear Martin, frantic, as he tries to claw open the heavy wooden door.
The man on top of the car is an idiot, I decide.
"Hello!" Mrs. Chin has opened her window.
Her arms are out and waving madly at the man. He sees the zombie but turns at the sound of another human voice. I think it is a mistake. While these undead freaks are stupid and only have one thing on their mind, they can be remarkably fast if their target is free from obstacles.
The creature hits the car with enough force to rock it. The man on top roils and his feet dance briefly as he attempts to steady himself. One step, two steps - the world holds its breath - and then there is no roof of the car left for his feet to stand on. His arms swoop through the air, looking for something to grab. He hits the ground but I do not see if he is injured, since the car is in the way.
I watch with morbid curiosity. He is certainly a goner, I decide.
"Hello?" Mrs. Chin again.
I am confused though; her voice is softer, lower. My eyes whip across to her window. Her curtains flap in the breeze, but she isn't there. A sick feeling starts to creep up from the bottom of my stomach. It rises as my eyes lower to the Laundromat window.
There she is. Her door is open and she is beckoning to the man who is now cowering behind his car. The zombie has gone back to being stupid. It can smell live brains, but can't work out where they are. There is hope for this man yet.
I see him rise and then bolt for safety. Like a flash he is through that door, knocking poor Mrs. Chin over in his blind panic. The zombie sees the movement and groans with apparent joy as it lopes across the deserted road. Mrs. Chin is shouting in
her native tongue. I cannot see the man any more. She pulls herself back and is clawing at the door. The zombie is quick and sure of his target. Closer it gets, Mrs. Chin is now screaming. Her hands grab at the door, her legs swinging behind her. She pushes hard and the door closes.
Or it would if the zombie didn't have a foot in the way.
My hands go up to my mouth and I suck at my fingers in sheer terror. There is more scrabbling at the door. I can hear Mrs. Chin's screams as well as the moans of the hungry zombie. A brush at my ankles and I jump before realizing it is only Martin. I scoop him up and look once more out the window at the macabre show on display.
I am sick at what I see. The zombie is literally chin deep inside Mrs. Chin's head. I gag and Martin yowls in fury. He sees the creature below and he hisses and spits at it.
I catch movement out of the corner of my eye. Looking across, I see the man. The stupid cowardly man who caused the death of the only other person I know personally who is still alive in all this mess. I duck out of the way, feeling the need to hide from him. Even as I move, I know I am too late. I am sure he has seen me. Hiding behind the green curtain, I can still look out and see the remains of Mrs. Chin.
I also see the zombie pushing open the door. It hasn't forgotten its first target.
Feeling more brave, I move the curtain ever so slightly and peer across to the open window. The man is still there. From his vantage point, he has no idea he is now sharing the building with a zombie. Smugly, I smile. I hope the zombie gets him. Perhaps, I shouldn't be thinking this way, but I am bitter at the needless death of my neighbour.
Selfishly, I am also aware that once the zombie is upstairs, I will be able to escape in the man's car.
Freedom.
Zombie Apocalypse Now! Page 1
