Apocalyptic Beginnings Box Set

by M. D. Massey

  As I crept closer to the van, I could see a couple of corpses sitting inside the vehicle. Both people, who I assumed to be husband and wife, were clearly dead. I snuck around the side to see what was causing the deaders to make all that fuss, and saw a tuft of white and brindle moving behind the window. Crouched down in the back amidst a pile of bags, suitcases, golf clubs, and other assorted crap was a large American Bulldog, shivering its ass off.

  Lots of people don’t know that animals shiver like that to burn off adrenaline, and not necessarily because they’re cold or scared. So when your dog freaks out and they start to shiver, it’s because nature is telling them to burn that shit off before they screw their brains up. We as humans have lost that capability, therefore we routinely experience shit like nervous breakdowns and panic attacks. Nature got it right the first time, though. There was a guy on the base where I was stationed who worked with soldiers who had PTSD. He taught them a form of exercise that would cause your body to shiver and shake just like that dog was, and guys I knew who did it swore by it. Crazy.

  Anyway, I wasn’t going to leave this dog here to starve. I went back to the truck, got some jerky and a bottle of water, and worked the back hatch on the van open. That freaked the dog out more, and it started shivering even worse. I knelt down by the hatch and started whispering to it, trying to soothe it and calm it down. Once it settled down a bit, I popped the top on the water and poured some out on the headliner of the vehicle. The dog gladly lapped it up. I poured out more and kept pouring until it was all gone.

  I reached in and let it sniff me. Once I got a sniff and a lick, I gave it the jerky. After that, it was just a matter of a few more minutes to coax it out. Once the dog got out of the van, I could see that she was a beautiful example of the Scott standard. Long and lean, but muscular and athletic, these dogs could leap a six foot chain link fence, play chicken with a 1,200 pound bull, and run a mountain lion up a tree, all in a day’s work. Damned good dogs.

  I just didn’t know if I had the ability to keep a dog and myself alive. Still, I couldn’t just leave her here, not with the way she was giving me puppy eyes and rubbing up against me. So, I led her over to the truck and let her jump up in the cab. She leaned over and gave me a big, sloppy kiss, and then plopped down on the seat with her chin on her paws, as if to say, “Alright, let’s get the hell out of here.”

  I chuckled and dug out some more jerky for her, and we got the hell out of there.

  6

  Fantasy

  I kept heading up 41 until I got just a few miles short of I-10. I figured I-10 would be a cluster hump, so I’d already planned to head south at Mountain Home and take 27 down to Kerrville. I hated the thought of going through a town the size of Kerrville, since I preferred to stay away from larger population areas after seeing what happened in Leakey, but I didn’t really have any choice. I turned south at Mountain Home and headed on down to take my chances with the local residents of Kerrville.

  As I headed down 27 south, I meditated on everything that had happened recently and everything that I’d seen. My experiences in the military and in the ’Stan had taught me to compartmentalize my emotions, so I’d been stuffing down a lot of what I felt about the events of the last few days. But while “focus on the mission” was definitely going to be my mantra over the next 48 hours, I still felt compelled to wonder about things that might affect my ability to complete it.

  Like, for example, what the hell was causing dead people to walk around and try to eat other people? Was it a bioweapon of some sort? Or a mutated pathogen, maybe something that was altered by the radiation from the bombs? Right now, those two scenarios were the only ideas that made any sense. I briefly entertained the idea that it might be an alien intervention or something supernatural, but I dismissed those scenarios as preposterous, deciding to apply Occam’s razor in this instance and call it a pathogen, no matter the source.

  But pathogens only affected the living, and thus far all I’d seen were reanimated dead. Sure, you could catch a disease from a dead animal or human, that was a given. But to my knowledge, there wasn’t a single organism that could cause a corpse to rise up and start moving around again. The only thing I could think of that might even be remotely able to do something like that were prions, proteins responsible for causing mad cow disease and Creutzfeldt–Jakob disease in humans. Nasty stuff, but prions caused rapid brain tissue degeneration that altered personality and behavior. I really didn’t see how they could reanimate a dead person, not within the boundaries of my limited medical knowledge, anyway.

  I considered all this as I rolled down the road at about 20 to 25 miles an hour, driving around cars and dodging the odd deader. I hadn’t seen many out this way, and I considered stopping and taking them out as I came across them to help stop the spread of whatever infection was causing this, but I realized fairly quickly that this was a lost cause. If most of a town of 400 people could succumb to the disease overnight, then it was going to spread rapidly throughout the population, regardless of whether or not I plugged a few extra deaders for practice. So, I kept on truckin’ and didn’t even bother to wave as I drove by.

  Once I hit a patch of road that was clear of cars and deaders in all directions, I stopped and pulled out my road atlas. According to the sign I’d just passed I was just outside of Ingram, a town of about 1,700 people. That could be tricky. Not as tricky as Kerrville, but tricky. I decided that, so long as there weren’t any herds of these things running around, I’d try to stop to refuel while I was there. The truck got decent gas mileage, but I’d already burned half a tank with all the extra driving and near-idling I was doing driving around abandoned cars, wrecks, and ambulatory corpses. So if I could risk it, I would. If not, I’d just hit an abandoned car somewhere after Kerrville and use the siphon I’d snagged from the gas station.

  After I had my bearings, I shifted back into gear and drove on. But about a half-mile further up the road I saw something that frankly seemed a bit incongruous, considering all the death and mayhem. It was a family of four, sitting on top of an older Suburu SUV, eating sandwiches and drinking sodas. As I pulled over the hill, I could see mom pull her kids closer, while dad started waving and shouting. Obviously, this guy hadn’t watched any post-apocalyptic movies, ever. If he had, he’d have those kids and his wife hid off in the woods somewhere while he figured out another means of transport.

  A part of me thought back to my wartime days, and I started scanning the trees on either side of the road for an ambush. I stopped the truck and pulled out my binos, and did a good 360 check for any hint that I was being played. I also checked the roadside for possible IEDs. Couldn’t be too careful; this was an apocalypse, after all. I didn’t really see anything that raised my hackles, so I focused in on the family instead.

  Dad was clearly the academic type. He was bespectacled and wearing corduroys, a sweat-stained oxford shirt partially tucked in, tennis shoes, and a bow tie. Mom looked like my third grade teacher. Mousy, docile, and with that mom vibe that all decent men respond favorably to, regardless of age. And the kids were straight out of a Disney movie, just a couple of towheaded, freckled, bright-eyed siblings out for an adventure with their parents.

  God help them, but they were in for a shocker. Inwardly, I sighed. Time to play the good Samaritan. I drew my Glock and placed it under my thigh as I pulled up alongside them. I left a good ten foot gap between us and rolled down the window, keeping my other hand on the weapon.

  “You folks having car trouble?” I asked politely, knowing the answer already. Even so, I knew calm banter would settle them down, and didn’t mind saying something idiotic if it meant that they’d feel a little easier about my presence.

  The dad nodded. “We ran out of gas. Can you believe it? I left the outskirts of San Antonio with a full tank, but with all the traffic and abandoned cars along the way, we ended up on empty long before I thought we would.”

  I looked at the wife, who eyed me while she hushed the kids, one of whom was
currently pulling the hair of the other. She appeared to be nervous, and was obviously the common sense player in the marriage. I looked back to the dad. “If you don’t mind me asking, why didn’t you fill up in Ingram?”

  He looked at me like I was stupid, which was kind of funny since he was the one sitting there on top of a car with no gas. “Well, I tried, but all the stations were closed, and no one would help us. I thought we might find one outside of town, but we ran out of fuel before I got us very far.”

  I nodded and pursed my lips. “Might have been better to hunker down in Ingram.”

  He shook his head. “Oh no, we’re on our way to Sarah’s parents out near Rock Springs. They have some land out there, and it seemed like the safest bet—I mean, considering what’s happened.” His wife whispered in his ear, and he whispered something back. Then he climbed down off the roof of the car and jogged over.

  He leaned in and spoke softly to me through the window, which momentarily caused me to tighten my hand on the Glock. “Look, mister, I know it’s a lot to ask, but I really need your help. Sarah and I have been trying to put a good face on for the kids, but we’ve been lucky so far. Last night we slept in the car, and one of those things walked by. Thankfully, the kids were asleep, but it’s only a matter of time before more come along. You’ve gotta help me get my family out of here before something happens. All I need is some gas, and we’ll be on our way.”

  He was gripping my arm through the window, and I could see the desperation in his eyes. It was real. He might have been ill-prepared for this event, but he was no fool, and he was just a father trying to save his family. I glanced over at the dog, but she merely gave the guy a sideways glance from one eye, chuffed once, and continued snoozing. I guess he was legit. My mind had already been made up when I’d seen the kids, but this cinched it for me.

  I gently peeled his hand off my arm and patted his hand as I set it down on the window frame. “Don’t worry, I intend to help you. But I should also tell you that many folks won’t be as kind as I am, and some will outright try to take what you have. I suggest that once we get you on your way, you don’t stop until you get to your in-laws’ place.”

  He grabbed my hand and shook it enthusiastically. “Oh, you bet, you bet! No way I’m stopping until I get my family somewhere safe. You can count on it.” Then he turned to his wife and nearly shouted, “He’s going to help us get home!”

  I could see the look of relief on his wife’s face, and the kids did a little happy dance together, as they chanted, “We’re going to Grandma’s, we’re going to Grandma’s, we’re going to Grandma’s,” over and over again. I smiled, then remembered the dangers around us.

  Sarah saw the look of concern on my face and turned to hush her children. “Shhhhh! Where are your manners? We hardly know this man, and you two are acting out in front of him.” She turned to me and smiled briefly. “I’ll keep them quiet while you two work.” Yep, definitely the common sense person in this marriage.

  I holstered my sidearm and got out of the truck. He grabbed my hand again and shook it, then began introductions. “Name’s Dan, and that’s Sarah, and Casey, and Jessica.” He pointed to each of his family in turn, and then began following me around as I unpacked the jerry cans and a funnel from the car.

  All the while the guy kept rattling on about where they were from and how they got here. Apparently, he’d been a graduate student at UTSA and lived on the northwest side of town, well away from the blasts. From what I understood, his car had been parked in an underground garage while he was at work, and thus protected from the EM pulse. I suspected that since it was an older model, it was less susceptible to the effects, and asked him about it.

  He tapped his chin and squinted. “Hmmm, now that you mention it, there were quite a few newer cars that were inoperable. Hadn’t really thought about it much.”

  I began filling his tank with the contents of the two jerry cans and listened as he told me more of his life story. After a minute or so, I interrupted him mid-sentence. “Dan, I’m serious about you getting your family straight to your in-laws’ house without stopping. I came out from near Leakey, and from what I could tell almost the whole town was infected.”

  He leaned in close and whispered to me so the kids couldn’t hear. “Can you keep your voice down? We don’t want to scare the kids. We left town at night, and so far they’ve only seen them from far away. We’d like to keep it from them until we get to Sarah’s parents’ house.”

  I raised an eyebrow at that. “Well, I hate to tell you this, but there are deaders all along the highway as you head out west. The good news is that if you head back the way I came and take 41, you should have more or less smooth sailing almost all the way to Rocksprings. That little car ought to be good for a little off-roading, so if you see anything blocking the road just drive off on the shoulder and go around it. Don’t stop for anything, not for people, animals, nothing. And for God’s sakes, don’t run over them, or you’ll mess your car up and never make it there.”

  About that time, I heard one of the kid’s yell, “Puppy!” and saw them scramble off the roof of the car, down the hood, and over to my vehicle. Before I knew it, the dog jumped out the window and ran over to the kid, and for a moment I thought I was going to have to draw down on her. Instead, the beast was licking the kid’s face all over, and the kid was obviously enjoying it immensely from all the giggling going on.

  The girl soon followed, and before long mom was offering the dog water from a bottle. Then she turned to me and smiled, the first real genuine smile I’d seen since I pulled up. “Beautiful dog. Is she yours?”

  I shook my head. “Nope. Found her in a wrecked van a few miles back. Her owners—they weren’t around. I took her with me because, well, I couldn’t just leave her there.”

  She continued to give the dog water from the palm of her hand, pouring it from the bottle as the dog lapped it up. “She’s certainly well taken care of, you can see that from her coat. Whoever owned her before must’ve loved her a great deal.”

  “Dog lover, I take it?” I asked with a grin.

  Sarah nodded. “My parents raise Catahoulas, so I grew up around dogs. I’d say this one’s a keeper.”

  It only took me a moment to decide. “Would you like to take her along with you?”

  She looked at me with only the slightest bit of contempt, then caught herself. “I take it you’re not a dog person?”

  “No ma’am, I am—it’s just that where I’m going I don’t know if I could keep her safe. Besides, if you don’t mind me saying, I think you and the kids could use her more than I can.”

  The kids immediately went into a chorus of, “Can we keep her?” and she rolled her eyes in mock annoyance. “Oh, I suppose we can keep her.” A cheer went up from the peanut gallery.

  Dan turned to me with concern on his face. “You sure she’s going to be safe around the kids?”

  I grinned. “Safe as houses. I’ve owned that breed before – they’re good dogs, good with kids, and protective as hell.” He looked to his wife for the final say, and she gave the barest of nods. That seemed to cinch it.

  The kids looked over at me as I finished pouring the last drops of gas in the tank. “What’s her name, mister?”

  I shrugged. “She doesn’t have one, so I suppose you two get to name her.” They grinned, and immediately started arguing over names. “Buttercup” and “Starfire” seemed to be the two most popular choices. I decided to stay out of it.

  As I threw the empty gas cans back in the bed of the truck, Dan tried to offer me money. “I feel bad about taking your gas, so at least let me pay you for it.” He pushed a couple of twenties at me that he’d pulled from a wallet full of credit cards.

  I chuckled and waved him off. “For one, I don’t know if paper money is going to be worth anything to anyone before long. And second, this is on the house. My folks didn’t raise me to take money for doing a kind turn. You can pay me back by getting your family home safe and taking good
care of that dog.”

  He tilted his head and shook my hand. “Thanks, for everything. By the way, I never got your name.”

  “Nope, you didn’t. It’s Aidan, Aidan Sullivan. Most folks call me Sully.”

  One of the kids chimed in from the background. “Like the monster!” he exclaimed.

  I snorted. “Just not blue and purple, but yeah.”

  The kid looked at me askance and squinted his eyes in feigned consternation. Then he grinned and exclaimed, “Still a cool name, even if you don’t have purple fur.” Then he went right back to petting the dog.

  About that time, the wind shifted and I heard the dog growl menacingly. She took up a protective stance between the kids and the shoulder of the road, her gaze fixated on the treeline. I listened carefully and could hear some low moaning coming from the trees and brush, so I kept an eye on the trees while I motioned at Dan. “Take the kids to the other side of the car, and keep your eyes peeled.”

  I drew my Glock and started picking my way through the trees toward the moans.

  I could smell them before I saw them. The stench was overpowering, and it was all I could do to avoid gagging and giving away my presence. I stalked forward a ways, crouched down and snuck further into the brush. Another twenty feet or so in, I saw three deaders milling about in a clearing. One was a middle-aged man in cowboy boots and a wife beater. The other two were kids.

  Damn it. I could shoot the old guy without hesitation, but could I shoot these two kids? The first one couldn’t have been much older than six, and he was wearing a Spongebob shirt, faded blue jeans, and a pair of Chuck Taylors. The second was a girl who was roughly ten years old, wearing bobby socks, scuffed patent leather oxfords, and a worn but serviceable light blue Sunday dress. Her pale blonde hair draped across her face as she jostled past her brother, gnashing her teeth as blood dribbled down her chin.