by Brown, TW
One of the most horrific finds was a pack of dogs that had somehow all turned. The hypothesis was that they simply began to starve and had no choice but to turn to the dead and the undead for their source of food. The first team that encountered the zombie dogs lost seven of their nine-person team. The dogs, while in zombie form, still operated on a sort of pack instinct and managed to trap the team in a dilapidated house by herding them to what the survivors insisted was a pre-determined destination.
If the walking dead, zombie dogs, and the threat of deadly disease were not bad enough, there seemed to be a disproportionate number of human survivors that took advantage of the chaos and loss of any sort of society structure to prey on their fellow men and women. It was Mrs. Raye who finally proposed the edict that women be removed from the scavenging teams indefinitely. Simon was surprised that the measure barely passed. He certainly understood the women who wanted to contribute, but there was a real threat to their safety on the other side of their protective barricades.
And then there was the problem of immunity. Eventually, Simon made it known to everybody that he had been bitten and survived. He and Caron had stood before the entire population at a town gathering and made the announcement. It was immediately suggested that he offer up blood or whatever Dr. Kincaide or Dr. Asan might require if it meant a possible cure or even an inoculation. Simon agreed to blood and a number of tests, but after several weeks of painful visits and nothing to show for it, both doctors stated that there was simply no way to do the sort of research they needed without power.
Slowly, more survivors began to drift in and seek refuge in the tiny village of Micklefield. By the time summer began to give over to fall, plans were being made to reclaim New Micklefield and re-annex it with Old Micklefield. Many came in with horrific tales of the living and the dead.
The day that hit the community the hardest was when a handful of survivors from London arrived and told of how the city was a total loss. While it had certainly been speculated, it was another thing entirely to get confirmation.
That night, everybody gathered in the small village green and lit candles while observing a moment of silence. It was that day that most of the citizens of Micklefield accepted that this was going to be their new reality. Any hopes of help or the restoration of their country was gone.
It was that realization that was blamed for the rash of suicides which followed over the next several days. Yet, those deaths were quickly mourned and then moved on from as survivors came in singles, pairs, and even a group of twenty-seven. That group was greeted with the most excitement as they brought in nine children between the ages of six and eleven. Annie was even given the task of showing the shell-shocked children around and helping them ease into everyday life.
As autumn gave way to winter, a new realization came. It was almost impossible to stay warm. No matter what was done, everybody suffered from a constant feeling of cold, wet misery. It was toughest on the children and the few elderly that had managed to make it to this point. Of the three hundred and forty-three people that were part of the community as of Christmas morning, sixty-two would be dead from flu or just plain exposure by the time the first buds of spring appeared.
Over half that survived suffered varying degrees of frostbite, and many people were minus a finger or a few toes. Dr. Asan and Dr. Kincaide were teaching a handful of the citizens basic medicine as well how to amputate frostbitten or gangrenous digits. The problem came when they ran out of the finite supply of anesthesia and pain medication.
However, the bigger problem came in how poorly the various garden starts that they had tried to save for the upcoming planting season fared. Simon felt more than just a little guilty in his sense of relief over their casualties. They would have had no way to feed the number of people who were part of the community prior to that Christmas.
With travel once again something that could be accomplished without having to add weather to the concerns of zombies and human raiders, teams were sent with greenhouse construction as a priority. Additionally, a dozen large domed fire pits were constructed with a crude series of ductworks that would hopefully provide warmth the following winter.
By the time the gardens were planted in the fields, it became clear that the flood of survivors they experienced the previous year was a thing of the past. However, there were occasional arrivals of people who were simply “passing through” or actually just searching the countryside, clinging to the desperate hope that they might find a lost loved one. Most brought an abundance of bad news including a sect that was hunting the immune with a zealousness that was likened to the era of the witch trials in colonial Salem.
However, not everything was bleak. As fear lessened and the closeness of the community kindled such superfluous things as romance, Simon and Dr. Wamil Asan were soon a cause for celebration as well as a source of discovery.
Simon’s romance was not the only one to bloom. However, one romance in particular went so bad so fast that it left the entire community reeling for quite some time. After a thorough investigation, one of the community’s couples actually provided a lot of information in their tragedy.
The pair in question had one thing in common with Simon and Wamil; the woman in the relationship had survived a bite. That blessing turned into a curse when she transmitted the catalyst that turned her lover into one of the infected. The first night they were intimate, the man woke and went to the bathroom where he discovered the black tracers in his eyes. After strangling the woman, he hung himself.
It was Nelson’s security team that smelled the distinct stench of the undead and entered the house to discover the woman in the bedroom. Of course she had turned shortly after dying which is what led to Dr. Kincaide and Dr. Asan hypothesizing that the infection remained in the person who proved immune to the bite. Upon death, whatever was causing people to turn would become active.
The disease could be passed on through fluid exchange. Simon and Wamil waited for almost three weeks to see if she would change. When she didn’t, the guess was that she shared in the same immunity that Simon possessed. She declined to test the theory by allowing an actual zombie to bite her.
Three months later, when Caron became involved in a romance with a man who had lost three of his fingers to a zombie early on, the conclusion about those who had been bitten and proved immune being able to engage in physical relationships without concern were all but confirmed.
Of course the other side of the conversation came from those who were not sure of their status, and it was determined that all who were known to be immune had to declare it. Physical examinations of the entire population ensued and three individuals who had attempted to hide their status were banished from Micklefield. There was even talk of making all those who were known to be immune relocate immediately to New Micklefield; however, Geoff and Simon were eventually able to quell those demands.
By the first snowfall of the second winter, Micklefield was almost thriving. Five greenhouses were given top priority, and another surprise came when wild game apparently bounced back to a state of abundance that kept the community extremely well fed over an even harsher winter than the one before. The long, cold nights also gave the people of Micklefield one more cause to celebrate when the second spring arrived.
Eleven women were visibly pregnant.
Many commented that it was like seeing those first shoots of grass poking through the snow. Life was finding a way, and just maybe there was reason to hope that humanity might endure.
Epilogue:
Happily Ever After?
Simon stood on the platform and looked out across the trench at the approaching horde. By his best guess, there had to be over ten thousand. This was the second such mob in the past three weeks. He looked back and saw the people of Micklefield heading to their positions in response to the ringing of the bells at the church that signaled an attack.
“Good thing we extended and deepened that trench,” Nelson huffed as he climbed the ladder and join
ed Simon on the platform.
“Yeah, but I am starting to wonder how many more of these we can endure.” Simon began to stretch out his arms, making circles. He knew that his shoulders were going to be very sore by the end of the day.
“Da!” a tiny voice called from down below the catwalk.
Looking over the edge, Simon saw Wamil with two-year-old Elizabeth on her hip. The little girl’s black hair fluttered in the gentle breeze of the day. As soon as she saw her daddy, she reached out for him.
“Da, up!” the little girl insisted.
“Not right now, little one,” Simon answered with a shake of his head. “You have to stay with mommy for a while. Daddy has work to do.”
“Mroarrrr?” the girl mewled in a surprisingly good impersonation of a zombie. She strained to look over her mother’s shoulder after Wamil kissed Simon on the cheek and headed to her station to prepare and receive any of the injured that might occur during the coming fight.
“Yep,” Nelson chuckled, “that’s your daughter.”
“Yesterday she was having her teddy bear pretending to eat her other dolls,” Simon muttered. “I have a hard time believing that is the extent of the trauma she endured.”
He was referring to an incident three weeks ago when a mob almost the size of this one managed to breach a section of the community’s defenses. It was like watching footage of a dam bursting. There was this small trickle at first, and then the section of wall collapsed and the undead poured in through the hole in a torrent. Several of them managed to get all the way to the safety square.
The safety square was a fall back location of last resort. It was made from old train cars; more precisely, the sides of the train cars that were cut away and used to create an eighty-by-eighty square that housed the entrance to the underground bunker. It was a double failsafe that had taken most of a year to complete. They actually thought that it would be a defense against the living.
When the zombies broke through, a few of the people who were running for the doors of the sanctuary got pulled down. Against protocol, the people manning the door ran out to try and help. Of course they were pulled down as well, and the zombies were soon within the enclosure.
Elizabeth had been set inside the door by Wamil who went to shut the door despite the screams of protest from some of the others who were insisting on sending out even more people to try and help the growing number of casualties. Apparently the little girl had a perfect view of the carnage.
“Has everybody been briefed and reminded about the fallback zone?” Simon asked as Nelson took his spot on the wall.
“At least a dozen times,” the man confirmed.
“I sure hope that patchwork repair we did on that section of the wall holds up better,” Simon said between clenched teeth as he readied himself for the coming wall of undeath.
“Is it me, or are they starting to lose their stink?” Nelson chirped as he pulled his long staff from his shoulder and removed the protective tips that covered both ends where the steel spike tips were mounted.
“It’s just you,” Melena said from her spot in the tower on the right where she began to prime the pump that would send a mist of treated oil into the trench once the zombies began to fill it.
“You think this will ever end?” Dawn called from the tower on the left.
“Well, last I heard before the zombie uprising, we had a total of around fifty million people. I figure this will probably last for a while,” Simon called back.
“So basically we will be fighting zombies for the rest of our lives?” Caron groaned. “That sure as hell isn’t how any of the zombie pictures ended.”
“You’re right,” Simon quipped. “They usually ended with the last few people being overrun and wiped out.”
“Why would anybody want to watch something so depressing?” Niamh grumbled as she opened her case of bolts and readied her crossbow.
“How would you end a zombie movie?” Nelson asked with a gruff chuckle as he headed out on the catwalk that would put him above the leading edge of the zombies.
“And they lived happily ever after!” Melena crowed.
A moment with the author…
So, here we go again. A new entry in the DEAD: Snapshot—{insert town here} collection. It was high time that I visited Las Vegas, Nevada. The thing is, I went into this one with an agenda. For the first time, this story will become a major part (eventually) of a storyline in the New DEAD series. Consider it a VERY long character introduction.
One of my favorite parts about writing these little tales of the apocalypse is when an inspiration comes long that excites me. I won’t give anything away, but this group of individuals that you are about to meet will be back—in some manner—in the ongoing adventures of Evan Berry. I imagine that will happen around book 5 or 6, but I am looking forward to it.
The thing about this book that might be different is that I came into it with the idea that I wanted to create a “villain” and let the reader see the world through his/her eyes. It is important to realize that “bad guys” (or gals) do not see themselves as such. Think about it…if you are a fan of The Walking Dead, then picture being the people who encounter Rick and his group. Hate Negan all you like, but that is a fight Rick and his people started.
So what motivates the mind of the supposed bad guy in a story? I believe that many of them are guided by things that drive almost everybody…the big exception is that they often operate at the expense of others.
Is Joel bad…or misunderstood? That is the question you should ask as you go along. Are his rules and “laws” something terrible? Or is it simply practical? Remember, there are many cultures in this world that do things we don’t understand or accept. The reason? Because it is different from the norm we have decided is acceptable. Different is always wrong…it is simply different.
Before you get too carried away, YES, I agree that there is real evil out there. I also believe that an apocalypse will bring out the worst in humanity. There will be good, but selfishness is just easier for many.
When I started this particular story, I had some concerns about the fact that this was not really about zombies. Granted, I try to make that the case with all my stories, but I went into this one with the mindset that I wanted to focus on the thought process behind a person who I would eventually like to bring back into my proper series as a foil for Evan.
I hope you go into this with an open mind. It is a little different for me and I know how much I hate change, so I guess I push that onto the reader. (That would be you.)
Some thanks, as always, go out here. To my Beta Team, you all are priceless. To my real-life friends, Joel and Wanda, thank you for being so gracious and generous. Spending that time with you is still a very fond memory. I can’t think of anybody else I would have enjoyed hanging out in Las Vegas with AWAY from the Strip. As always, my wife, Denise. I couldn’t do this with anybody else, mostly because I am intolerable when I write.
To all of you who have hung with me this long, thanks so much. This is still so surreal to see my books selling to people all over the world. I honestly believed my audience would be a few friends and family.
What happens here, stays here.
TW Brown
June 2017
To Wanda and Joel
Contents
1969
Today
Grounded in the Present
Field Test
“I sentence you to the darkness.”
Into the Heart of Darkness
Grand Ideas
The First Outpost
Killing
Who Lives and Who Dies
Down the Strip
Battle Ready
Pros Versus Joes
Company
1
1969
Joel Landon rolled onto his side and tried to blink the mud from his eyes. As soon as he did, he wished he hadn’t. Lying just a few feet away, staring back at him with dead, expressionless eyes was his best friend, Jake W
ilcox—or at least what was left of him.
Jake’s body was a twisted, mangled mess. His left arm was missing, as were both his legs. His face was a mask of surprise which had likely been the feeling Jake experienced just before his death.
Joel had been the lucky one of the two if you could call him that. The shell that had blown his friend to bits had only sent a few smaller bits of white-hot shrapnel hurtling at him and into his flesh. One such piece was in his right side. It burned something fierce and still felt hot despite the fact that he was sprawled on his belly in this cursed rice paddy.
His ears were still ringing, but he was sure he could hear the tinny sound of voices. Their cadence gave them away. They were not his fellow platoon members. They were VC, and they were looking for survivors.
Everybody had heard stories of what was happening to Americans unfortunate enough to be captured by Charlie. There was no way in hell he would allow himself to be captured.
In the blast, Joel had lost his weapon. It was too dark and murky for him to spot his M-16 and he didn’t want to give himself away by sloshing around in an attempt to find it. His hands did a quick pat down. He felt his lips pull back in a sneer when they found the collapsible shovel dangling from his patrol ruck. It wasn’t his beloved bayonet, but it would do in a pinch.
He pulled it free and unfolded the shovel’s blade from the stock. He felt more than heard it lock into place and then he closed his eyes to slits as he waited.
Charlie was obviously feeling confident, Joel mused inwardly as he waited. He could hear them approaching. There would be a few gentle splashes, and then a meaty sound as they stabbed the corpses of his obliterated platoon…his brothers.
A surge of anger tried to cloud his mind at the thought of all the men he’d come to know these past months, most now lying dead in the waters of this godforsaken rice paddy. They hadn’t died in a firefight. No, these men had died because some dumbass had either given or implemented the wrong coordinates. The shell that had ripped his friends to shreds was American-made and fired.
