Children of the Apocalypse: Mega Boxed Set

by Baileigh Higgins

  Her hair whipped about her face, tendrils clinging to her lips as she squinted at the rocks below. The next moment, cold, damp flesh closed over her hand, the texture like that of a jellyfish.

  “What the hell?” Laura cried and snatched her arm away, only to have her wrist caught in a vice-like grip.

  She stumbled, nearly falling over, and the notepad clattered to the floor. A rattling growl filled her ears, like the phlegmy cough of a lifelong smoker. Instinct kicked in, and she fought against the insistent pull of the thing that had hold of her.

  “Let go!” Her toes dug into the ground, and she leaned back to free herself.

  Like a monster rising from the deep, a terrifying creature appeared above the wall. Its pale flesh was bruised and mottled, intensifying to dark purple in places. It glared at Laura through the thick strands of hair that flopped over its face, dripping water. Its broken teeth gnashed at the air like those of a shark.

  Laura screamed, her voice rising in a shrill peal that could surely be heard for miles. She pulled at the fingers circling her wrist, desperate to break their hold. Her nails cut into the monster’s skin, shredding the meat like confetti.

  Bit by bit, her arm worked loose. With a final yank, she was free and scrambled backward as the thing that used to be a woman launched itself at her. Laura screamed again, a garbled shriek of horror as she rolled to the side. The woman thing flopped on the ground like a fish before reaching for Laura once more.

  “Get away!” Without meaning to, Laura lashed out with the pencil. Its point pierced the woman’s cheek and got stuck there, a thin river of black blood leaking from the wound.

  The woman didn’t even blink. Instead, she grabbed Laura’s tank top with both hands, fisting her fingers in the material. Using this as leverage, she pulled herself closer and aimed for the soft skin of Laura’s exposed stomach.

  “Click, click, click.” The noise caused by her snapping teeth sounded like an alien language, and Laura watched in horror as they came closer to her vulnerable flesh. “Click, click, click.”

  A sudden surge of anger flooded her veins, and she grabbed the quivering pencil that was still stuck in the woman’s face. It came free with a sucking sound. Before Laura had time to get nauseous, she stabbed the woman again.

  “I said let go!”

  Stab.

  “Let go!”

  Stab, stab.

  “For the last time, let go of me, you nasty…whatever you are!”

  Stab, stab, pop.

  The pencil pierced the woman’s eyeball which burst like a balloon, leaking foul liquid from the deflated orb. It didn’t stop her though. She snarled at Laura while coughing up mouthfuls of seawater from her flooded lungs.

  Laura cast about for a new weapon; the pencil was lodged too deeply for her to pull out. A hand landed on one of her flip-flops, and she picked it up out of sheer desperation. Rolling over, she whacked the woman with the shoe, raining blows onto her face as fast as she could.

  “Die,” she cried between deep gasps for breath. “Just die already!”

  A lucky strike drove the pencil deeper into the woman’s skull. The lead point pierced the brain followed by the rest of its length. The woman collapsed, her remaining eye wide open and staring.

  With a relieved sob, Laura jumped to her feet and backed away. She whirled around looking for a familiar face, any face, anything human at all, but the streets were empty. Silent, except for the distant screams coming from the beach.

  Laura looked in that direction, and her heart sank when she saw people attacking each other in the same manner the woman had assaulted her. More crawled up the beach, stumbled from the water, and scuttled over the rocks. They were everywhere, but more importantly, they were coming her way. She backed away on bare feet, sure of only one thing. Run. Now!

  Laura sprinted toward the steep road that led away from the beach, heading toward the holiday flat her parents were renting for the week. Her leg muscles burned as she pushed her body up the hill, and her breath rasped in and out of her lungs in painful gasps.

  Behind her, the notepad lay forgotten on the ground, its pages fluttering in the wind to reveal sketched ocean vistas and grand mountain views. Vibrations traveled through the crumbling concrete as a crowd of people surged through the parking lot next to the beach.

  Some ran, their screams shrill as they sought to escape the horror that followed from the sandy shores, while others shuffled, their waterlogged lungs emitting gurgling moans. One, in particular, wore a tattered uniform; its once proud insignia marked him as the Captain of a famous cruise liner. His silver beard now sported pieces of bloody meat and the odd crab, while his ripped jacket barely covered his belly, swollen with intestinal gases and seawater.

  Offshore, a ship drifted on the currents, abandoned by crew and guests alike in their haste to escape the terror aboard its glamorous length. Their attempts at escape had failed when death followed, their lifeboats capsizing as the injured turned on the healthy and attacked.

  Blood dyed the water, and the triangular fins of sharks cut through the surf as they fed on the sudden bounty they were offered. It was too much even for them. The ship’s passengers numbered in the thousands, and many escaped untouched. The infected couldn’t swim, but once their bodies bloated, they floated well enough and were carried to shore by the tides.

  A damp, rotting foot landed on the abandoned notebook, smearing a mesmerizing picture of a school of dolphins at sunset into an unrecognizable pulp. More feet followed in an inexorable march toward the living.

  Two lifeguards had made a run for the building that housed their offices and equipment. The tinkling of glass was loud as the dead broke in, plucking the men from their hiding spots with merciless hunger.

  Bodies littered the beach, some already stirring as they reawakened, drawn from death by the virus that sought to control them. Tiny shops that sold ice cream and hot dogs were invaded by the infected, and the staff went the same way as all the rest.

  Laura cast a frightened look over her shoulder and gasped when she saw how many zombies shuffled after her, their progress up the steep incline slow, but steady. She was sure that’s what they were. Zombies. She’d watched enough movies to recognize a walking corpse when she saw one, no matter how far-fetched the idea might seem.

  Laura reached the gate of the secure complex she stayed in and fumbled for the remote control in her pocket. Her eyes searched for the guard usually stationed nearby, but he was either busy or out. The grounds were empty, and she realized she was on her own.

  Her fingers closed around the remote, but panic made her clumsy, and she dropped it the moment she got it out of her denims. With a cry, she sank to her haunches and searched the ground. “No, damn it!”

  The groans from the army of zombies coming her way rose in volume as they drew nearer, and the first one’s head appeared over the curvature of the road. She rushed to pick up the fallen keys and pushed the button.

  With a rattle, the rusted gate opened, and she slipped through the gap with a sigh of relief. Her trembling fingers found the button again, and she pushed it to halt its slow progress. It shuddered to a stop. Another press and the creaky thing closed, much too slowly for her liking. “Come on, come on. Close, you stupid thing!”

  Horrified, she watched as the infected entered the driveway. A flood of dead bodies headed her way, preceded by their stench. The gate slid shut with a clang just as the first zombie slammed its fists on the metal barrier, growling at Laura when she backtracked.

  She turned away from the sight and ran. Past the parking lot and up the stairs she went, taking them two at a time. The door to their flat loomed ahead, and she fell against it with a sob of relief, turning the knob.

  It was locked.

  “What? No!” Laura cried, slamming her fists against the wood. “Mom! Dad! Open up!”

  When nobody answered, she grabbed her spare keys and thrust it into the lock. It turned with a click, and the door swung open. She fell inside
and slammed it shut again, locking and latching it once more.

  Silence enveloped her, and the familiar scent of her mother’s perfume teased her nostrils. The woman always wore too much of the stuff, and it clung to every room she entered for days afterward. It was something that used to irritate Laura, but now she craved the smell for the sense of familiarity it offered.

  She walked inside, noting the empty interior. “Mom! Dad! Are you there?”

  Still nothing. No sign of her brother either. They must have left.

  Laura made her way to the kitchen, her legs wobbly after her earlier headlong flight. Her tongue clung to the roof of her mouth, and her body screamed for water or sustenance of any kind.

  Her hand reached for the fridge but paused when she saw a note stuck to the front. It read: “Laura. We’ve gone to the shop. Stay put until we get back. Mom.”

  The implications of the message sunk in and Laura stood frozen with panicked fear. Not only was she alone in a flat surrounded by zombies, but her family was out there in the open, vulnerable to attack. “I’ve got to warn them.”

  Laura’s Bane - Chapter 2

  After reading her mom’s message for the tenth time, Laura crumpled it up in her fist and dropped it on the counter. She opened the fridge and pulled out a bottle of water, swallowing the cool liquid in one big gulp.

  With a sigh of relief, she sucked in several lungs full of air before she’d calmed down enough to think straight. After a few seconds, she ran to her room for her cell phone. With bated breath, she rang her mom.

  It went straight to voicemail. “Damn it!”

  Next, she phoned her dad. Voicemail again.

  Then her brother, Stan. Voicemail once more.

  With a groan of frustration, she called the police, and when the call failed to connect, emergency services. Still nothing.

  “What is going on?” Laura cried, staring at the square piece of plastic like it was the enemy. Resisting the urge to smash it against the wall, she walked toward the sitting room and sank onto the nearest couch. Twiddling with the phone, she thought through her options.

  A: Storm out all gung-ho style and rescue her family in a blaze of glory.

  This option she dismissed as the one most likely to get her killed and eaten.

  B: Stay put until her family returned from the shops.

  If they returned, which was unlikely since they didn’t know about the approaching zombie hordes hungering for their flesh.

  C: Be smart about the situation and come up with a proper rescue plan.

  Laura jumped up and paced through the living room, her mind alive with all the different scenarios and possibilities. She looked out of the kitchen window and into the passage outside. All was quiet.

  “I hope no one was stupid enough to open the gates to the zombies,” she muttered before checking the sliding doors that led to the patio.

  She looked through the curtains. Both she and the next-door neighbors’ patios were devoid of life. After fetching her dad’s binoculars, she unlatched the doors and slipped outside, holding her breath as she made her way to the railing.

  From there she had an excellent view of the gardens below, the swimming pool, the street that ran in front of the complex, and the ocean beyond that. With the binoculars pressed to her face, she scanned the surrounding terrain.

  The gardens were empty except for the usual bird and insect life as was the swimming pool. The same could not be said of the road, however. It was filled with zombies.

  Laura zoomed in on a few and studied them. Some looked like her attacker had, their skin bleached white with salt water and sporting wounds clotted with black blood. Others were fresh. Their bite marks wept crimson fluid and their movements were fast and agile compared to the older zombies.

  She saw no signs of her neighbors and wondered if they’d all gone to the beach earlier. A shudder worked up her spine at the thought. If they had, they were most likely dead or undead by now.

  After a few minutes, she gave up and went back inside, latching the sliding doors and closing the windows. Several phone calls later, she tossed her phone onto the kitchen counter with a cry of disgust.

  “Think, Laura, think!” she said. “You’ve got a brain, the zombies don’t.”

  She resumed her restless pacing while checking her watch. Half an hour had passed since her return, and her parents still hadn’t come back. It was up to her now. She had to come up with a plan to save them without getting herself killed.

  Without realizing what she was doing, Laura went to the kitchen and put the kettle on to boil. She made herself a cup of tea using generous amounts of sugar and milk each before sitting down at the breakfast nook with pen and paper.

  The first sip of the hot brew calmed her nerves with immediate effect while the sugar smoothed over the shock that still threatened to set in. It was a remedy her mother used to great effect in times of crisis, and Laura now found the ritual soothing.

  “Right. It’s the apocalypse. Zombies have taken over. Your family is out there somewhere, exposed and in danger. What do you need to rescue them?” Laura asked herself.

  “Number one, a car,” she said. Her eyes traveled to the set of keys hanging on the board next to the front door. They belonged to her father’s truck and was perfect for what she had in mind.

  “At least, that’s not a problem,” she said, grateful for once for her mother’s packrat ways. Though they weren’t a large family, her parents always went on holiday with two vehicles to allow for all the extra luggage her mom insisted on taking even though she never ended up using it.

  “Right, number two. We’ll need food and water.” She jotted down number one and two on the page before adding the third. “Oh, and medicine. Just in case one of us gets hurt.”

  “I should take my phone and a charger, maybe the binoculars too. A flashlight with extra batteries would be nice. What if it gets cold?” she asked, squinting at the ceiling. “I should dress warmly then and toss in a few blankets for good measure.”

  Making notes as she went, Laura added all the items to her growing list. It gave her something to focus on and calmed the roiling mass of conflicting emotions within her breast.

  “I should have a weapon. Seriously. What if I get attacked again? Too bad Dad doesn’t own a gun.” She sprang upright as her musings were interrupted by another thought. “How am I going to carry all this stuff? I’ll need to make more than one trip. Best to get going right away.”

  With her mind made up, Laura ran to her bedroom and stripped off her flimsy beach clothes. She replaced them with an outfit that comprised of running shoes, jeans, a sports vest, t-shirt, and a hoodie. She pulled her hair into a tight bun before grabbing a backpack from her closet.

  Moving from room to room, she filled it with clothes for her family before throwing in a selection of toiletries. With the pack filled to the brim, she grabbed a butcher’s knife from the kitchen and the keys to the truck.

  With extreme caution, Laura cracked open the front door. The hallway was empty and after a moment’s hesitation, she sprinted for the stairwell. Her footsteps echoed around her as she ran, and nervous tension kept her grip on the knife firm the entire way.

  The trip to her father’s truck was uneventful, and she saw no signs of any people at all, neither living nor undead. She could almost imagine that the whole zombie thing was a figment of her imagination until she stuck her head around the corner and looked at the gates.

  There they were.

  Milling about in an aimless fashion like dumb animals.

  A few kept at the bars, growling and snarling with persistent longing while others stared into the distance with vacant eyes.

  Laura ducked out of sight again and pressed her back against the wall, breathing through her nose to quell her rising panic. “Oh, jeez. Zombies. It’s real zombies. I can’t believe it.”

  For a perilous few seconds, fear threatened to derail her carefully laid out plans until she remembered her family. They need
ed her, and she couldn’t let them down. I have to help them.

  With this ideal fixed in her mind, Laura ran back to the flat and packed a box full of food, water, and medicine. This she stashed in the truck before making a third trip for blankets.

  With all the supplies loaded, she hesitated inside the living room, wondering if she’d forgotten anything. Her eyes fell on the binoculars and her phone. “Oh, crap.”

  Rushing about, Laura filled another smaller backpack with odds and ends. Once satisfied she had everything, she tucked the butcher’s knife into her belt and picked up the club she’d scored from her dad’s golfing bag.

  The driver with its graphite shaft and hollow titanium head made a decent weapon, and she felt better with it in her hands than the knife which called for close-quarters combat. She hefted it with a smile. “Time to go.”

  With a firm click, she closed the door to the flat behind her and ran down the stairs with a light tread. At last, she was ready to leave, ready to tackle her rescue attempt. Mom, Dad, Stan…here I come.

  She bounced down the last steps and prepared to exit the stairwell when a loud scream brought her to a sudden stop. It sounded like a woman. One in fear of her life. “What the hell?”

  With hesitant steps, Laura edged closer to the exit, her eyes peeled for trouble. The screams didn’t stop, they grew louder, and was soon joined by the deeper voice of a man yelling at somebody to stop. Several somebodies who answered his commands with hungry growls.

  With her heart in her throat, Laura peered outside and saw one maid who worked at the complex run past while being pursued by several zombies of the fresher kind. The security guard who’d been missing earlier also stumbled past, swinging a baton at the undead like he was swatting a fly.

  More bodies flooded the grounds, and Laura realized with horror that some idiot had opened the gate. Now the zombies were inside, and she was cut off from her dad’s truck by a tidal wave of rotting flesh.