Hamsikker: A Zombie Apocalypse Novel

by Russ Watts

  Jonas grabbed the dead man by his feet and began pulling him off Erik. With an audible sigh, Erik succeeded in wriggling free from under the beast, and jumped up, out of reach of the zombie’s snapping teeth and clawing hands.

  “Mother-fucker surprised me,” said Erik reaching for the Glock tucked into his belt. Without hesitating, Erik put a bullet between the man’s eyes, and the huge body slumped back, the zombie still at last.

  Jonas tugged on his axe, slowly freeing it, and then picked up the case full of guns. “I heard screaming from outside.”

  Erik nodded in confirmation. “Me too.”

  Both men ran, and as they left the tent Jonas noticed the rest of the rooms all looked the same as the ones he had been in. There were a couple of dead bodies, most of the meat having been eaten, and one was completely headless. Otherwise, there was nothing of use, and Erik clearly hadn’t found anything. The checkpoint or whatever it was had been messed up long ago. If it wasn’t for the extra weapons Jonas had picked up, it would’ve been yet another waste of time.

  As Jonas pushed back the final flap of tarpaulin, and emerged outside into the glare of the low afternoon sun, he saw Dakota, Tyler and Mrs Danick crouched over someone lying on the ground. There was a zombie a few feet away, with a knife sticking out of its head. Erik rushed over to Pippa, who was comforting Freya.

  As Jonas strode over to them, Peter approached, his eyes staring at Jonas’s chest, as if afraid to make eye contact.

  “What is it? What happened?” asked Jonas.

  Peter stopped in front of Jonas, and slowly drew his eyes up. He spoke in a flat, monotone voice. “It caught us by surprise. It just came out of nowhere. There was nothing we could do, it was so fast, and…”

  Jonas brushed past Peter and ran to Dakota. She was kneeling over Terry who lay prostrate on the ground. She was tenderly wiping his forehead, while Quinn rubbed his hands. It looked as if Terry was asleep. His eyes were closed, but he appeared unharmed.

  “What happened?” asked Jonas again as he knelt down beside Dakota, dropping the case of guns. His axe clattered noisily on the ground, and he stopped himself from reaching out to Terry. If the man had been bitten, he was dangerous. He didn’t have long left either, and the best thing they could do would be to leave him.

  “Dakota?” Jonas wanted answers. How could one zombie do this? Terry should’ve been more careful. “Dakota, if he’s bit we should leave him. You should get away from him.” Jonas pulled at Dakota’s arm, but she resisted.

  “What?” Dakota looked at her husband with disdain. “Terry’s not bit. He just fainted. Probably the shock.”

  Jonas relaxed slightly, but was puzzled. From what Peter had said, he thought someone had been hurt.

  “Dakota? Was that you I heard scream?” asked Jonas. “I thought maybe… Look, like I said, if Terry’s been bitten, he’s a dead man. You know that. There’s nothing we can do for him now.”

  “Jesus, Hamsikker, just give us a fucking minute,” said Quinn. “God damn it.”

  As Terry stirred, he mumbled, and Quinn stood up. She walked over to Erik, leaving Jonas alone with Dakota and Tyler.

  Dakota bit her lip, and then looked at Jonas. “You can be such an asshole.”

  “What did I do? Look, I found guns, ammo, we can do this. We can…”

  “Jonas, just shut up will you? Terry’s not been bitten, and it wasn’t me screaming.” Dakota pulled her arm away from him, and marched away to join Quinn.

  Jonas rocked back on his heels, as Terry came around. Jonas looked up at Tyler who so far had said nothing. The young man had a smile on his face.

  “You’re okay, Terry, you’ll be fine.” Tyler looked across at Jonas, and together they helped Terry up.

  “Sorry, I just...I don’t know what happened. I heard Pippa screaming, and then I saw it, the zombie, the dead woman so close to me, that...I’m sorry. I guess I’m just weak. I blacked out.”

  Terry saw the concern on Jonas’s face. “Is everything okay? Is everyone all right?”

  Jonas patted Terry on the back. “I’m glad you’re okay, Terry. We’re all fine, in fact we…”

  “No,” said Tyler sighing. “We’re not all fine, Hamsikker.” Tyler held out his arm and showed them the back of his hand. A deep cut ran down the back of his palm, and blood oozed from it slowly.

  Jonas looked at Tyler as an icy fear washed over him. “Not…”

  Tyler nodded. “It’s just a scratch, but I know what it means. It was a runner. Like Peter said, it came out of nowhere. Before I knew it, it had grabbed me. I managed to push Terry out of the way before Quinn took it down. But…” Tyler looked at his bleeding hand and shrugged. The smile disappeared from his face, and he looked at Jonas. Tyler’s cheeks were flushed, and his eyes sparkled. “Well, Hamsikker, I guess you’ll want to get away from me now.”

  CHAPTER NINE

  As the town edge became more apparent, the roads became clearer, and the dead thinned out. Jonas knew they were still being watched, but the zombies were trapped in shops, or fenced gardens, and only the odd one reached them. When they did, they were quickly and efficiently dispatched with by Jonas, Erik, or Quinn. The axe, the aluminium baseball bat, and the claw hammer were invariably coated with blood, brains, or both, permanently. They didn’t want to use their guns in case the noise drew more. There was a limited supply of bullets too, and there was no way of knowing when they would need to rely on them. Jonas insisted they only use them as a last resort. In the back of his mind, he knew he might need one for Tyler, not that he dare suggest it to any of the others.

  They’d been walking barely an hour, but Tyler was obviously tiring. Randall had been different. He’d been old and weak, and he’d lost a lot of blood. With Tyler, it was barely a scratch, but it was still enough. They weren’t sure how long he had, but it was decided that he would stay with them as long as possible. Jonas wondered if it was the best idea, to keep an infected among the group, but discussing it with everyone was a sure fire way to get a bullet himself. Tyler was popular with everybody. He was kind, and smart, and he’d saved Jonas’s ass back at the garage. So Jonas kept quiet, and vowed to keep a close eye on him. He couldn’t afford to let his guard down, no matter what. Tyler had taken it in his stride. He’d said he was going to fight the infection; that he refused to succumb to it. His body was not in accordance with his brain though, and his face had already turned a sickly pale colour. He was starting to lag behind the others, and Quinn kept him moving. Jonas saw her pass her knife to Erik, and she put an arm around Tyler’s waist, helping him to walk.

  They proceeded through the town in relative silence, only calling out or speaking when they were attacked. Once the zombies had been dealt with, they resumed their morbid silence. Jonas didn’t need to know what was on their minds. Nobody wanted to face the reality of what was happening to Tyler, and it was as if they were all hoping the problem would just go away. Jonas was concerned about where they were heading to. In an hour, it was likely to be dark, and they still had no place to go. As they left Jeffersontown, the attacks began to become more sporadic, until finally they stopped completely. He hadn’t found anywhere that could house them for the night, and was beginning to wonder if they might be sleeping out in the open. As the town buildings gave way to hills and trees, there was an increased sense of safety. The sky was darkening, but the aura of death was no longer there. At one point, a flock of starlings flew overhead. Jonas thought they might just be able to get out of town, and not look back. Perhaps it was better in the country. Perhaps there were areas clear of zombies?

  “Hamsikker, hold up a second.”

  Erik trotted up to Jonas, and fell into step with him.

  “Erik.” Jonas was in no mood for another lecture, and was sceptical of what Erik wanted to talk to him about.

  Erik looked about, to make sure no one could hear him speak. “Hamsikker, we need to find shelter. It’s dark and quiet in the woods. Maybe we should camp out for the night. It’ll be c
old, but we can make it work. I don’t think there are many of those things out here. We can’t keep walking like this. At some point, we just have to try somewhere. One of these…”

  “Erik, we can’t stop now. The more distance that we put between ourselves, and Jeffersontown, the better. Who knows how many are following our trail. You want to bed down under the stars and wake up to find your arm chewed off? No, we go on. We’ll find something suitable soon.”

  “Like what? You think we’re going to stumble across a bus with a full tank of fuel? You think we’re just going to walk into a nice warm home, find grandma baking fresh bead, and poppa stoking the fire? Get real, Hamsikker. Look around you. Look at Dakota. Look at Mrs Danick. Look at Tyler, for Christ’s sake. They’re dead on their feet.”

  Jonas shot Erik a look. “You think I don’t know that? You think I don’t care about my own wife?”

  “That’s not what I’m saying. Jesus.” Erik sighed. “Since we left my place, things are different. Maybe it was the garage, I don’t know, but whatever happened in there… I know we lost some good people. Anna, her poor girl, Mary, Cliff…”

  Jonas gritted his teeth, but said nothing.

  Erik continued. “We’re still on the same side, you know. We all want what’s best for our families, and I know you want the best for the group. Problem is, Hamsikker, the best doesn’t exist anymore. You have to compromise. Make do with what you got, and right now, we’re out of options. We have to stop.” Erik leaned in close and spoke in a whisper. “Look, Tyler doesn’t have long. I’m not going to leave him, not like this. I vowed to serve and protect, and that’s what I’m doing for everyone. Not just Pippa and Peter and Freya, but everyone, including you. You’re a pig-headed bastard, but you’re my friend, and I can tell when you’re in trouble. You’re shattered.”

  Jonas rubbed his eyes, trying to wipe the gritty feeling away, wishing that Erik wasn’t right, but knowing that he was. Erik wasn’t a cop for nothing. He could cut through the bullshit in a second. He was right about Tyler. Jonas casually looked over his shoulder, and could see even Quinn was struggling to carry him now. Tyler wasn’t going to last much longer.

  “I just wanted to find a place that was safe and secure,” said Jonas. “Somewhere we could truly rest and not have to sleep with one eye open. Walls and doors can be broken. The zombies can find a way in, slip through the cracks, and then we’ll all wake up in Hell. We need a fucking castle, but there’s nothing like that around, is there?”

  Erik shook his head. They’d turned a corner, and suddenly Jeffersontown was out of sight. All around them were trees and fields, dotted with wooden outhouses and barns. “There’s nothing around here but old farmhouses and fields of dying corn and wheat. Of course, there is the famous…”

  “Wait,” said Jonas, “look over there.”

  To their left lay a gate, and beyond it a single lane track. A few feet to the side, in a field of overgrown, dying wheat, there was an empty byre. What really intrigued Jonas though was the farmhouse that sat at the end of the track. It was two storeys high, made of red brick, and with a wooden porch where a rocking chair sat idle. The windows were dark, and no smoke came from the chimney.

  “You want to see if grandma’s fresh bread is as good as you remember?” asked Jonas.

  “Bound to be,” said Erik. “Let’s check it out.”

  They told the others that they needed to check out the farmhouse, to see if it was a viable option to spend the night. Erik and Jonas would go investigate it, while the others hung back in the barn. It was too dangerous to all go in there. The group were too weary to answer back, and all of them happily headed to the byre to wait where they could rest out of sight from the road. They left Quinn in charge, under no illusion that were there to be any sign of trouble in the house, that she should get everyone out of there. She was not to wait, but take the guns and head back to the road. Jonas and Erik took one gun each, but they preferred to be quiet, and would only use them as a last resort. If there was any shooting done, it would only draw in the dead, and then the farmhouse would be compromised.

  Jonas quietly asked Dakota to keep an eye on Tyler, in case Quinn was preoccupied, but as he prepared to leave, he could see it was irrelevant. Tyler was lying on a stack of hay in the centre of the barn, and everyone else was sitting about him. Pippa and Terry sat near the doorway, so they could keep an eye on the farmhouse from a safe distance, while Peter kept Freya occupied away from everything. He showed her the various tools hanging on the walls, but she said nothing as he pointed them out. The byre was dry, but no good to spend the night in. It was too exposed, and offered no protection should anything come their way in the night. The rusted tin roof was full of holes, and if it rained, they would get soaked through. Jonas knew the house was their best bet. Holding his trusty axe, Jonas strode out onto the dirt track, and Erik walked beside him armed with Quinn’s knife. Both men kept their guns tucked in their belts, hoping they wouldn’t need to use them.

  Jonas took a last look at Dakota. She was bending over Tyler, soothing him with quiet words of reassurance, and wiping his brow. It was like a scene from the Bible, and Jonas could picture Tyler as Jesus, the animals and visitors around him. It seemed slightly surreal given the circumstances, but it was the first thing he thought of when he looked at them all.

  “You think God’s looking out for us?” asked Jonas to Erik as they walked toward the farmhouse. “I mean, Dakota’s adamant, but…”

  “Sure I do. No matter what He throws at us, you can’t doubt Him,” said Erik. “Don’t get me wrong, I’m not about to lie down and ask Him to protect my family from all this. I have a Glock 22 for that. If you’re asking me if I still believe, then yeah, I do. Your faith can be tested, but it’s how you deal with it that matters.”

  Jonas grunted. Years back, Erik’s family had gone to church with Jonas’s, almost every week. At first, just their parents, but then the children joined in. It had started out as a chore, but soon became just another thing they did together, and Jonas remembered fondly the two of them sitting in the back of the church, laughing every time the priest mentioned the Virgin Mary. As they had grown up though, they had started taking it more seriously. It was never going to be more than what it was, but back then, in Jeffersontown, it meant something. It meant something to all of them, and he wasn’t sure exactly when he’d lost his belief, but Jonas knew he’d lost it. The things he’d seen today, the people they had lost, the people who had died: they were all part of a jigsaw that led him to believe he was on his own. If Dakota ever ended up like Tyler, Jonas knew his world would fall apart. It felt like his grip on reality was nothing more than a thin wire, being stretched with every minute, and every dead body was just itching to snap it.

  A crow circled overhead, and as Jonas walked up the dirt road that led to the farm, he noticed how the farm had been left to ruin. The field of crops had withered and died, and the track had been churned up badly. It seemed that a lot of feet had been up and down the road, turning the mud into a thick chunky soup. Garbage was strewn over the yard, and as they approached the farm, it began to look more like a wasteland. It had been neglected, left to rot, and Jonas began to think there was little point in even going any further. The house was in a poor condition. As he neared it, he could see the windows broken, the glass cracked, and the wooden slatted frames hanging askew. The front door was hanging off its hinges, and a cold wind was ushering him toward it, like an open mouth to Hell.

  There was a garage to the side, and they crossed the yard to it. Cautiously, he opened the door, and it swung back with a large creak. The inside was gloomy, but empty, and he ventured in with Erik behind him. There was an old tractor in the centre of the garage, rusted and stripped for parts. Shelving and tool boxes covered the walls, and Jonas’s feet scuffed against a dead bird as he walked around the garage examining things. Looking around, he saw nothing of use, and was about to leave, when a glint of light reflected back at him. A single jar sat perched o
n one of the top shelves, and he reached up to grab it. Ignoring Erik’s questions of what he’d found, he dusted off the lid and opened it. He knew instantly from the smell what it was. The last time he’d drunk moonshine was with Erik. They were only fifteen. One of the older kids brought it to school one day so they snuck out of class early, and they all had a taste. The same smell reached his nostrils now, and he sipped from the jar. It was still disgusting, and he coughed as the foul liquid burnt his throat. He wiped his mouth before offering it to Erik. Silently, the big man drank, and then drank some more before passing it back to Jonas. The burn made Jonas feel alive, and they quickly finished the jar.

  Leaning back against the rusting red tractor, Jonas wished he could just stay in the garage. His legs were heavy, and it would be so easy just to crawl into a corner and sleep. The others were grown adults, they could handle themselves. Erik could search the house, and he could rest, just for a little while. If only he could close his eyes and sleep. When he did close his eyes though, he kept seeing terrible images, a slideshow of horrible things that he couldn’t forget. He saw horrible things that he’d done, and wished he could change things, but there was no going back. Perhaps when Tyler passed, he could move on. It wasn’t like he wanted the young man dead, but he was a reminder. He’d hardly spoken to him since the morning. Perhaps it was better that way. Perhaps it would be better if Tyler were dead, before they got back.