DEAD Snapshot Box Set, Vol. 1 [#1-#4]

by Brown, TW

  Taking another deep breath, Rose slammed her shoulder into the door, sending it flying open and knocking the terrible creature over. She paused for just a moment to watch as the man struggled to regain his feet. The lack of coordination was almost comical. It sort of flailed around until it ended up on its side and then eventually its stomach. As it struggled to its feet, Rose slammed the door shut. A thud came from the rear of the car and Rose saw three more of these zombie-like people in her rearview mirror.

  For a moment, she was absolutely transfixed by the terrible wounds these people had suffered. They should not be able to function. A whine from her right snapped her back to the situation at hand as Circe made a high-pitched noise that sounded almost human. The message was clear: fear.

  “I’m right there with you, girl,” Rose said as she put the key in the ignition. For the briefest second, the thought that her car would do something stereotypical like fail to turn over, ran through her mind.

  The engine came to life as usual. Rose absently patted the dashboard and put the car into first gear, pulling away from the horrors that had been pounding on the rear of her car. She felt the car lurch as she drove over something.

  As she started for the exit of the parking lot, a sound broke through her haze of panic and dread. She looked to the left and saw Imp running in circles around a cluster of the zombies that were feasting on a downed woman. The scene came in such clarity that it was almost as if her gaze zoomed in on it. Rose saw long strands of something being ripped from the woman’s middle. None of the attackers were taking any notice of the dog as it barked, lunging in and out as if it were trying to draw the zombies away from the poor, doomed woman.

  Veering towards the scene, Rose had to try one last time to get her dog to come away from this nightmare. She pulled within feet of the carnage and threw her door open.

  “Imp! Here, boy!” Rose yelled.

  The dog stopped and turned to the sound of his master. Cocking his head, he seemed to look back at the awful goings-on just a few feet away, and then back to Rose and the open car door. In a flash, the black and white Border Collie sprinted for the car. Rose managed to lean back just in time as he bounded over her and landed with incredible grace in the passenger’s seat.

  “Good boy,” Rose gasped as she slammed the door shut and took off as fast as her trusty car could go.

  In moments, she was on Highway 26. It was late in the day, and the evening traffic was worse than normal as she headed west towards her home in Beaverton, Oregon. Beaverton was one of many suburban centers that made up the outlying metro area of Portland. Over the past ten years, it had exploded. Intel was no longer the biggest company, that honor now belonged to Nike where Rose worked in the accounting department.

  She considered heading over to the campus, but thought better of it. With this insanity unfolding, she just wanted to get home. As she drove, Rose turned on the radio. She realized right then that this was bigger than she might have guessed. The pop station in Portland was running a news broadcast warning people to return to their homes. The report assured that local National Guard units were being deployed to help deal with this unrest.

  She fished her Bluetooth out of her pocket and quickly brought up her sister’s phone number and hit the ‘call’ button. There was the usual pause, and then a recorded voice came on the line.

  “We are sorry, all circuits are busy now. Please hang up and try your call again.”

  Rose smacked her steering wheel in frustration and ended the call. As she drove, she glanced at other drivers. They all had looks of disbelief on their faces. She knew that each of them was hearing the same broadcast. She knew this because Rose had hit the ‘scan’ button. Every single station was carrying the exact same thing.

  She cursed herself. It had become a source of pride for her that she no longer listened to commercial radio or watched television. Of course, that had put her out of touch with the news of the world, but it had simply become too bleak and dreary. Every day there was a new scandal, a new atrocity being committed. Murder, war, terrorism, hit-and-runs, rapes, child abductions…and worse; to Rose, this was the decline of the Western Civilization being played out to its slow and eventually tragic conclusion.

  She had turned to her music playlists, finding comfort in the familiar. And with training becoming the focus of her new life, Rose had simply lost touch with society. Often was the time when she would visit Violet and her sister would be ranting or agonizing over some sad story that was currently playing out.

  “How can you not know about this?” she would say incredulously.

  Each time, Rose simply shrugged and repeated her mantra that ignorance was bliss. At the moment, she was cursing her obliviousness to what had obviously been something horrible that was more than just a problem in her hometown of Portland, Oregon. From the news, this was global. Could it be that large portions of China, Japan, and several other countries in Asia were in a complete state of blackout? And the president was being evacuated from Washington and relocated to some secret underground bunker? Add in the fact that there was some sort of military operation being undertaken to rescue his daughter from someplace in Ohio?

  “This is madness,” Rose said with a shake of her head as she pulled into her driveway.

  Rose lived in a small house just off of Cedar Hills Boulevard. It was a two bedroom, harkening back to the days when her and Frank had actually discussed the possibility of having children. After their separation, she had been thankful of the day that the doctor had told her she could not ever bare any. She was smart enough at the time to also know that might be something she would possibly regret later, but her mind was far from entertaining any ideas of getting into some sort of serious relationship, much less having children. For now, she was more than happy to be Auntie Rose to Violet’s little girl and boy.

  Crystal Spring. The name had been a source of contention between Violet and her husband. Trevor Spring had insisted that it sounded too much like a porn star’s name. He had wanted Tracy. He had been basically henpecked into accepting Tracy as their daughter’s middle name. At age five, Crystal Tracy Spring had begun school this year. Because she was so bright, it was less than two months into the school year when the girl had been moved up to first grade. There had even been talk of bypassing first grade, but Trevor had drawn the line. It was bad enough that the girl was already the youngest, he insisted that she needed school to develop her social skills. He had also fought against home schooling.

  Jacob Spring, the youngest child, was two years old, and more than a handful as he showed the same degree of exceptional intelligence as his older sister. Jacob was Rose’s secret favorite between the children. Unlike Crystal who seemed far too serious for a child her age, Jacob was a clown.

  Rose turned off her car and took a look around. Her neighborhood seemed just as dull and normal as it did any other day. It was a jarring contrast to what she had just escaped up at Washington Park.

  Just up the narrow street, she saw one of the neighbors in his front yard. He looked to be inspecting his flower bed. That was what Rose believed all the way up to the point when the man pushed through the hedges in front of the living room window and began to paw at it like an animal.

  Almost on cue, Imp’s head whipped in the direction of the neighbor a few houses down and began to growl low in his throat. Rose clipped his leash on before opening the door and tapped the dog on his flank. Imp turned to face her, and his ears dropped. He moved his head close to hers in that special way that he had of expressing affection. Unlike Circe, who was a licker, Imp did this thing where he nudged a person’s face and snuffled their ear. That had become known as his seal of approval.

  “You need to be quiet,” Rose whispered. Despite the fact that this neighbor was three houses away, she felt that even the slightest sound might draw it her direction.

  Opening the door quietly, Rose only had to give a slight tug on the leashes for the two dogs to follow. They exited the car, Circe remai
ning almost pinned to Rose’s legs, Imp moving away just a bit as if placing himself in between his master and the nearby threat.

  After easing the door shut on her car, she hurried up the walkway to her front door, her fingers already flipping to the house key. Closing the door behind her, Rose gasped when she realized that she had been holding her breath the entire time.

  “Where the hell have you been?” a voice barked, causing Rose to jump.

  Instantly, both Imp and Circe began to bark furiously. Having dropped their leashes as she entered and shut the door, both dogs took off into the living room.

  “Get off me, you fucking mutts!” the man barked.

  “Frank,” Rose hissed as she stepped from the entry hall into her living room where she discovered Frank trying to get up from her couch.

  He was swatting and kicking out at the dogs. Both were lunging and barking at this intruder. While Circe’s reaction was obviously more one of surprise, and perhaps just a bit of alarm, Imp was once again growling, the hackles raised around his neck and his teeth flashing as he darted in and out, snapping at the man who kicked out savagely, catching the Border Collie in the ribs and sending him sliding across the hardwood floor with a yelp.

  “Don’t you dare hurt my babies!” Rose yelled as she rushed at the man.

  Frank pushed her away and moved behind the couch. “Then call them off or I swear I’ll kill those fuckers.”

  It took her a moment to get them both back under control. Imp was limping a bit and seemed to have some of the bluster taken from him by that vicious kick. She would have to check him as soon as she got rid of Frank. Closing the door after leading both dogs to her bedroom, she returned to the living room to see Frank once more seated on the couch like he belonged there.

  She had not really noticed at first, but now that things were settled down just a notch, she saw that his left arm was bandaged up with gauze. Blood was already seeping through, turning a large oval section of the bandage an ugly shade of reddish-brown.

  “What happened to your arm?” Rose asked. Then she felt her stomach turn. Frank’s eyes! While they had not filmed over with that ugly pus color, they looked bloodshot…in black!

  “One of those sick bastards bit me.” Frank made a dismissive wave of his hand. “Gave her something to consider, though.”

  Rose shuddered. Frank had never actually hit her, but he had shoved her more than once; and then there were the times that he had grabbed her by the arms hard enough to leave bruises as he pinned her against a wall or backed her into a corner. This was usually when he would warn her not to “push him any farther” if she knew what was good for her.

  “Get out,” Rose whispered.

  “Excuse me?” Frank barked with disdain dripping from his words. “Are you telling me to get out of our house?”

  “It isn’t ours,” Rose reminded. “It’s mine. I make the payments…and it is in the divorce papers.” She had added that last bit as an afterthought.

  “You gonna play that card, Rosie?” Frank knew that she hated being called that. He had done so early in their relationship, and she had made her thoughts on the matter very clear. Ever since then, he had used it any time that he wanted to piss her off or simply get under her skin.

  She was about to say something, when a dull thud sounded at the front door. Rose spun, but it was Frank who bounded to his feet. He shoved past Rose, shooting a glare over his shoulder. “You expecting somebody, Rosie? A new boyfriend maybe?”

  Rose was about to say that he was being an idiot, but before she could utter a word, Frank had thrown open the door. She could not see past him, but when the man stumbled back, Rose let out an involuntary shriek. The neighbor from down the street had ahold of Frank. The two men fell to the floor in a confused heap of arms and legs.

  Then…something happened that frightened Rose more than anything that she had witnessed up to this point: Frank screamed.

  She went to move forward, but when the neighbor’s head came up, his mouth ripping away a chunk from Frank’s throat, she froze. Rose could only watch in shock and horror as blood spurted in a red jet, leaving an ugly splatter on the tan wall of the entry hallway. Frank’s scream ended abruptly, turning into some sort of horrible, wet choking noise. She could see blood spewing from his mouth in a crimson froth.

  From her bedroom, she could hear Imp barking like crazy. The problem Rose was currently faced with was the fact that the struggle in her entry hall was between her and her bedroom door. All she could do was watch as the neighbor—she thought his name was Elvis Bentley or something like that—tore into Frank with a ravenous violence.

  Then, almost too suddenly, Frank ceased struggling. In that instant, the neighbor stopped the attack and looked up, its rheumy eyes seeming to lock on to Rose. The man began to climb to his feet.

  And then the impossible happened.

  Frank sat up.

  3

  It Begins: Jason Edwards

  Jason Edwards stepped through the gate. It wasn’t much, but in that single step, he had gone from being an inmate and “guest” of the Oregon Department of Corrections to being a free man. Well, sort of anyway. He still had a parole officer to report to, but he knew that was going to be temporary. He would be walking the straight line this time.

  This latest stint down had cost him everything. Apparently that had been what it took for him to decide that he needed to make some major life changes. He’d walked away from the gang inside. That had been tough. The subsequent assaults to try to get him to change his mind had been futile. If nothing else, they had convinced him that he was on the right path.

  The large city bus pulled up to the stop and he climbed aboard. The driver gave him that look. It was obvious.

  The old version of Jason would have said something nasty to the obscenely overweight man who had given him the stink eye as Jason swiped the state-issued card that would provide him with bus fare for the next forty-eight hours. This version simply smiled politely and walked to the rear of the bus.

  Sitting down, he took a moment to look around. A mirror just above the mid-bus exit revealed a reflection that made him smile. He had gone in for this latest and final trip down in terrible shape. The smoking and the drinking had made him a scrawny, tall man who looked almost twenty years older than his actual thirty. To add insult to injury, he had been sporting a rather pronounced pot-belly that made his tall frame look even more bizarre.

  He had hit the track and the weight room every chance he got. In addition, he had put in for the vegetarian diet. It was only a real sacrifice on Fridays when the standard hamburgers and fries dinner was put on the line. Still, he saw this as a test of his discipline. If he could say no to burgers and fries, he could do just about anything.

  Now, at age thirty-seven, he was in probably the best shape of his life. Not only that, but he had enrolled in some programs this time that helped him write a resume after obtaining his GED. An old friend had even offered him a job on a construction crew. After checking in with his parole officer, he would be heading down to the job site to fill out the paperwork. This would be another new experience. In all his life, Jason had never worked “on the books.” He had always been paid under the table in order to avoid the county being able to get their hands on his money to pay off his fines. This time would be different. He would live within the confines of the system.

  It had been seven years this time. An old home invasion he had actually committed before his last stretch had come back to haunt him. One of the guys on that ride had been busted for some major shit. He had dropped dimes on everybody in the crew in order to get a deal put on the table that would not see him strapped to a gurney and given the lethal needle.

  Jason stared out the window as the bus rumbled past a ratty looking strip mall. He spotted a coffee shack and his mouth began to water in response. Then he saw something else that made him question his eyesight. Reaching up, he tugged the cord that rang the chime indicating to the driver that he needed to sto
p at the next bus stop.

  He jumped up as the bus slowed. The driver seemed to give the brakes an extra hard tap which sent him lurching forward. Jason’s eyes shot up and locked on those of the driver as he scowled in his big rearview mirror.

  “Not worth it, pal,” he whispered to himself.

  The doors opened with a hiss. Jason gripped his small carry bag and jumped off. He would catch the next one. He still had a few hours before he needed to be at his PO’s office. He had seen something, and if he saw what he thought he saw, maybe he would start off on a good foot with whoever got his case. Besides, when he got on that next bus, it wouldn’t be right in front of the Columbia River Correctional Institution. Maybe the driver would just treat him like every other passenger.

  Jason ran across the lot and headed for the alley that ran alongside the strip mall. There was a dingy cinder block wall that made that alley along the side of the shops and allowed just enough room for a pedestrian or bicycle.

  As he got close, he could hear something odd. It sounded like wet slurping or smacking, like somebody with really bad table manners. That had him puzzled. He rounded the corner and froze.

  He had believed that he had spotted a possible rape in progress. He had seen the figure grab the other and drag it down. Jason had just assumed…

  “My God,” he breathed.

  A body was, in fact, sprawled on the asphalt. There was a dark pool spreading out from it. However, the attacker was not raping the victim. In truth, the attacker was a woman. But her face was a dark mask. He knew it was blood despite the early morning hour preventing any real light from pushing back the gloomy shadows that struggled to maintain their foothold for just a while longer.

  The victim was on his back. Despite the relative darkness, Jason could see that the man had been ripped open at the belly. The woman had had her face buried in that ugly tear until he arrived on the scene. Now, her head was up, something dark and thick dripping from her mouth and landing with a wet splat on the concrete.