Apocalyptic Beginnings Box Set

by M. D. Massey

  Technically, it would be dawn any minute, but Justin had a peculiar feeling they weren’t like vampires. They wouldn’t suddenly all collapse to the ground, not after he had antagonized them—not when food was within their grasp. His Z-COS definitely needed a revision. Zs were evolving.

  Justin stood in the front of the store and yelled for them to come and eat his brains. Meanwhile, he frantically scanned the parking lot for Ella. He didn’t see her. He swore he heard her crying out for him. He kept peering back and forth from the Michael Jackson wanna-be backup dancers to the stack of shopping carts. The first rays of the morning sun glinted on the storefront’s spider-webbed-shattered window nearly blinding him. Justin backed his way into the store as the first wave of Zs approached the front entrance. He stumbled and flipped backward over a down shelf.

  “Holy shit! Holy shit!” It must have been a hundred of them. Justin went numb with fear. He was the bona fide Zombie Expert caught without a POA. Absolutely no freaking Plan of Action. He pulled himself up from the rubble of the trashed store.

  “Justin!” This time he knew for sure. It was Ella, not a hallucination.

  The crackled front window finally gave way. A maelstrom of glass rained onto the horde as they stormed inside. From out of nowhere, an overzealous Z nose-dived him, latching onto his foot. Justin wildly kicked it away.

  “What the heck?” All the zany Zs started diving at him. A random commercial flashed through his mind. “Gotta get away.” Uh, ye-ah—like right now! He gathered his wits. An idea streamed through his head like one of those airplanes spraying “GEICO” in the sky—only the words were EVERY PROBLEM HAS A SIMPLE SOLUTION with colored smoke and all. It was an idiom his father swore by. And, of course, his father was—had always been right. Justin simply ran out the back door. Then he jammed the door closed with his crowbar. Easy-peasy!

  Justin scrammed to the shopping cart island. A ring of shopping carts had been arranged to create a small circle. That’s freakin’ ingenious.

  Sobs came from under the tarp.

  “Ella?” Justin asked, eyeing a slowpoke mini-horde coming from the opposite side of the building. It juddered for him. He didn’t have time to deal with a horde. Ella had to be under the tarp, but he hesitated, afraid of what he might see. Visions of bite marks covering Ella’s body flooded his mind.

  “One, two, three, go!” With knife in hand, he yanked on the tarp, rattling the carts. But the tarp was tied down. He slashed at the knots on one of the carts and then pulled the cart away.

  “Justin!”

  “Ella!”

  Ella jumped into his arms. Time stood still, but only for a millisecond. The mini-horde was only a few feet away. With Ella clinging to him, he bent down and grabbed her bat, knowing it was more effective than the knife. Justin started swinging away, smashing their liquefying, bulbous brains.

  “Only five, no big deal,” Justin gasped between brutal de-activating swings.

  “You came back for me! I knew you would,” she exclaimed, her big, brown eyes brimming with tears.

  “Like, you didn’t think I would?” He smirked. His instincts kicked in. Something’s wrong. Then he heard the most spine-tingling groan ever. It must have lasted an entire minute.

  “Justin, what—what kind of zombie—” Ella turned around searching the parking lot. “What is that?”

  He had never heard anything like it in all his zombie days. But whatever it was—it was definitely not a good thing.

  “Hide behind the carts!” Justin shouted. He searched the lot. It was clear of Zs. The shadowy mass in the Best Buy told him the mega-horde was still obsessed with pounding down the store’s back door, which he had retrofitted with the crowbar. All the horde had to do was turn around. Justin wasn’t so worried. They could easily outrun the mega-horde—if he could get Ella to run. Uh, maybe I should be worried?

  The long bellow of a moan shrouded the early morning with an eerie surreal-like feeling, the moaning much closer. Is it coming from behind The Cheesecake Factory? A huge shadow whizzed by, briefly blocking out the rising sun’s glare. As he squinted into the sun, the sunlight played tricks with his eyes, causing the approaching Z-shadow to appear way bigger than it could possibly be.

  Justin turned away from the sun’s blinding glare and rubbed his watering eyes. He opened his eyes, trying to focus. There it was: a Super-Zombie! His gut wrenched in solidified fear. That’s not a normal zombie! It wasn’t all skinny and emaciated and gooey . . . They never get that big.

  “Ye-ah, uh, Ella, uh,” Justin rambled.

  The Super-Z was a few feet away. Justin so wished he had the crowbar. He planted his feet and practiced swinging, determined to hit a home run on the first swing. Because he really didn’t think he’d have the chance for a second swing.

  “Eat this, you piece of shit!”

  The Super-Z stopped and cocked his head sideways. Its swirling dead-black eyes searched the perimeter, ignoring Justin. For some reason, Ella popped-up from behind the carts and let out a terrifying scream. It looked at Justin and then to Ella as if contemplating the situation. The Super-Z threw its head back and let out a hideous howl. Then, it looked Justin dead-straight in the eyes. Justin stood there, ready for a grand slam swing.

  “Ella, I got this,” Justin promised, getting his stance just right, but he really wasn’t so sure.

  It lunged with incredible speed and force, knocking Justin to the pavement before he had a chance to swing. They struggled on the pavement. Justin used all his strength to keep its chompers from his neck. It zeroed-in for the kill-bite. Justin was astonished by its super strength. It wasn’t a lifeless mass of mush. This one was strong and determined. Ruthless. All Justin heard were the terrifying snaps of its deadly teeth. Chomp—Chomp—Chomp. After several near misses, Justin’s strength waned.

  The Super-Z pinned Justin against the pavement. Its foul breath singed his neck. Then it sat on Justin and glowered at him. A sneer formed on its lips like it enjoyed the moment or something. Did it just smile at me? Of all Justin’s expansive Z-experience, he’d never had such an encounter. Its dead-black eyes drilled into his mind. It snickered.

  I know that snicker . . .

  “Ella—run!” It came out as a breathless scream.

  Justin’s heart sank. Paxton’s death stare seared his eyes. Justin couldn’t think. He couldn’t move. Only one thought flooded his mind. I love you, Ella . . .

  Its weight bore down on him. Justin thrust his head to the side, avoiding the kill-bite. For a moment, they were face to face. Its foul-hot breath misted his face. It snarled and snickered. And it lunged . . .

  A high-pitched scream pierced Justin’s ears. The Super-Z thrashed around on top of him. Its gloating glare morphed into bewilderment. Wait—what? That’s when Justin realized Ella straddled its back with her thighs, madly stabbing it with a knife. It let out a painful-like wail and flung her aside onto the pavement, giving Justin the break he needed to get to his knees. But it was ready for him. The Super-Z kicked him in the ribs.

  Justin curled into a ball to avoid the painful kicks. A bright light flashed like a thought demanding its presence known. The gun! And Justin finally remembered the gun he had stuffed in his coat pocket. The gun he had used to kill Paxton. Why hadn’t he thought about the gun earlier? I’m losing it. It took all of Justin’s energy to pull out the gun. He felt like a hundred-year-old invalid as he fumbled with the butt of the gun.

  It kicked the gun out of his hands as if it knew what a gun was. And the Super-Z beat him. It seemed like it would rather beat him than eat him. That’s when Justin knew beyond any shadow of a doubt. The Super-Z was—had been—Paxton.

  Justin curled-up smaller and smaller as each kick took him further and further away from consciousness. He mumbled, “Ella, go . . . before it’s too late.” When Justin was sure it was all over, when the world went swimming around him like he was drowning in a dream-like dimension, a thundering sound jolted him back.

  Ella grabbed the gun. Sh
e fired it point-blank at the back of the demon’s freshly shaven head. After the third shot, it slowly turned around and glared at her. Its glare burned her from the inside-out. It grabbed her by the neck. Squeezing until she couldn’t breathe. She fired the gun until it clicked empty. It froze as if someone had hit the pause button. It dropped her. Then, it collapsed to the pavement.

  “Oh, my God,” Ella uttered. Justin whimpered on the ground. “Justin, you okay?” It was the most stupid thing ever to say. Of course, he’s not okay. She knelt beside him, gently stroking his head. “Wake up!”

  Crackling crunches clinked in the background. She ignored it, trying to get Justin to his feet. “Justin?”

  The crackling crunched closer. Finally, she turned to see a huge horde jumble out of the Best Buy—coming for them! “Uh, Justin? We gotta go!” she urged, refusing the temptation to freeze-up. She gently shook Justin and stared at the horde lurching toward them.

  Justin wailed, “You go—I can’t walk.”

  “I’m not leaving you . . .”

  She snagged a shopping cart. Then she desperately tugged on Justin until she got him to his knees. “In the cart!”

  He sputtered, “Go.”

  “C’mon.” Ella continued tugging at him. She turned his head toward the demons and shrieked, “They’re coming!”

  Justin tumbled head-first into the cart. She gasped at all the blood on his body. Had he been bitten? He seemed halfway coherent. She refused the possibility he might have been bitten. Ella tossed the bat and the gun into the cart. And took off running like some fanatical contestant in that show (her mama used to watch) where you had one minute to load the cart with as many groceries as you could. She ran passed The Cheesecake Factory and entered the mall’s parking lot, passing Barnes & Noble. Out of breath, she stopped for a moment in front of Macy’s smashed-in windows.

  Another horde approached the main entrance. She bolted again and ran past the Starbucks so wishing for a Unicorn Frappuccino. What a ridiculous thought. Out of breath again, she stopped in front of Sears. She panicked. She had reached the end of the mall. She didn’t know where to go. It was one humongous parking lot with a whole lot of nothing—just a lot of empty space. She ruled out the three abandoned vehicles. Last resort only, she thought, remembering those days she’d been trapped in the van.

  Ella yanked the cart around and ran behind the Sears toward the back of the mall. She stopped. The cart rolled a few more feet while she stood spellbound. The entire back lot raged with demons. It was like they had all texted each other to meet at the mall for a demonic flash-mob dance.

  “OMG, Justin?” He’d know what to do. He always did. But Justin had passed out. She grabbed her rosary beads and prayed and prayed and prayed, harder than ever before. She prayed even harder than the day she had lost her parents and little brother to the demons.

  A wave of inspiration engulfed her, giving her the courage to scout the area. Only one direction appeared demon-less. And so, she pulled the cart around and ran toward the end of the parking lot. The cart clamored and rattled the entire way. She didn’t know how much longer it would last before it lost a wheel. She ran and ran. The rattling cart seemed to attract more demons than they were losing.

  What am I supposed to do? The lump in her throat tightened, and she desperately fought the urge to cry. For if she wasted a minute crying, it would be—too late. Then she noticed a sign: SACRAMENTO INN. An entrance led to the hotel. A hotel, right there. Really?

  She pushed, more like shoved, the cart toward the narrow roadway. Can I get to the hotel from here? The area was more secluded with trees providing a little cover. They were out of view from the hordes tracking them but not for long. If only she could avoid alerting more zombies. She slowed down, reducing the clamoring of the cart. Ella made it to the hotel’s parking lot. With a renewed burst of hope, she pushed and shoved the cart onto the hotel’s walkway. She rubbed her rosary beads and prayed she’d find an unlocked door. And she flew down the covered walkway, trying the doors on the first floor.

  OMG! The knob turned. She peeked into the room. A rush of stale air flooded her. The hotel room showed no signs of life or death. She awkwardly maneuvered the cart over the metal threshold, losing a wheel in the struggle.

  Justin whimpered. To her relief, he lifted his head and mumbled, “Where the heck are we?” Then he slumped back down in the cart.

  Once inside the room, she quickly latched the deadbolt and then leaned heavily against the door, catching her breath. What if they saw us come in here? She panicked. If so, they’d be trapped inside this room forever.

  “Justin, we made it,” she whispered, wondering how safe they really were. Justin would tell her what to do next. When he woke up. The room had the usual hotel furnishings: two queen-size beds, flat screen TV on the dresser, coffee table, and two chairs. Justin screeched. He thrashed about in the cart and mumbled something about Paxton.

  She rushed to him. “Justin, wake up.” His eyes rolled to the back of his head. “C’mon, help me get you to the bed,” she said more calmly than she felt.

  “See,” she encouraged, pulling back the bedspread and then fluffing a pillow, “this is way more comfortable.” She turned to give him a big smile. OMG! Blood on his neck! Was it a bite? Unable to keep the terror out of her voice she wailed, “Talk to me—” Please, say something.

  Justin finally acknowledged her, probably because he was tired of her hysterical whining. He climbed over the shopping cart with trembling knees, collapsing onto the bed. She struggled to take off his pack and the bloodied jacket, only to find more blood. Instinctively, she tore off the blankets from the other bed, wanting the sheet to wrap his wounds. Justin tossed on the bed in delirium while she cleaned his wounds with the antibiotic treatment from his pack’s first-aid kit.

  “Go. Not safe,” he blubbered as she wiped off the blood.

  Had he been bitten? She tried to remember that rule, the worst rule ever. It went something like “Been bit, tough shit, time to get.” And based on the few words he uttered, she thought he might be warning her to leave before he turned into—one of them. Nooooo!

  “Shhh, it’s okay. Everything’s gonna be okay,” Ella whispered. She sat on the edge of the bed next to him, terror-stricken. His beaten body curled into the fetal position. Her heart poured out to him. She curled next to him and spooned him, hoping her body heat would warm his shivering body. She hummed random lullabies, wanting to comfort him as well as herself.

  Ella blamed herself for chastising him so often on their rooftop hideout. She had consistently ignored and refused his advances every time he wanted to make-out, thinking she shouldn’t have such sexual desires at her age. Especially during this ungodly time; after all, she was in mourning and barely sixteen.

  His breathing gradually slowed. She realized her feelings for Justin were far beyond sexual. She truly did love him and decided at that very moment she wanted to be with him—Forever. Even if—Well, even if he does turn into a zombie—we can be zombies together. She knew how cuh-ray-zee and childish it sounded, but she couldn’t deny her emotions at that very moment. How could she go on living without him?

  She vowed if he came through this okay, she’d tell him how much she loved him. The words “twin flame” whispered in her mind. Twin flames were way better than a soulmate according to those silly romance stories she used to read. Mama had always told her true love would find her someday. “Oh, Mama, you were right.” And, she had found it and lost it—all in one day.

  35

  “There it is,” Dean said, pointing to the Pep Boys sign. “Knew it was around here.” He vaguely remembered giving Kyle a ride there several years ago.

  “See it,” Luther confirmed, quickly turning the recently acquired Jeep Cherokee into the parking lot. “Hope they aren’t sold out,” Luther joked.

  “Reckon they ought to have a few car batteries left,” Dean said, worried the store had been completely looted.

  Dean and Luther had driven a
round the Sacramento area the past several days, searching for signs of Scarlett, Justin, Ella, LuLu, and the Stockton Boys. Dean sensed Luther’s impatience. Luther was ready for Reno. And Dean felt bad for taking unfair advantage of Luther’s good nature.

  “We have to take care of that bunch first.” Luther nodded toward the west side of the building. “You ready for this?” Luther asked, stepping out of the Jeep with the pipe threader, his melee weapon of choice.

  “You betcha.” Dean automatically grabbed the crowbar. He was sure sick and tired of smashing skulls. It was getting to be a monotonous pastime. They snuck up behind the five dead-heads, knocking off two before the other three lunged at them. Standing in their back-to-back stance, Dean and Luther quickly disposed of them as well. Dean couldn’t ignore the intense pain in his chest and bent over to rest his hands on his knees.

  “You don’t look so good.” Luther’s tone sounded worried, his eyes darting around the parking lot. “Looks clear. You hang in the Jeep. I’ll check out the batteries.”

  “I’m good. Just need a quick breather,” Dean lied. He thought his chest was about to implode. Then the pain vanished as quickly as it had appeared.

  “It’s unlocked.” Luther motioned to Dean.

  In stealth mode, they reconned the store and then headed straight for the auto batteries.

  “That’s whut I’m talkin’ about!” Luther did a little NFL football jig. “How many you want?”

  “How many they got?” Dean asked, catching up to Luther. “Might as well take what we can,” Dean said.

  Luther loaded a cart with batteries while Dean tossed in several packages of jumper cables for good measure.

  “Let’s check out the mechanic’s bay for the good stuff,” Luther said with a touch of excitement.

  “Why not?” But Dean was ready to get out of Dodge. He followed Luther to the mechanic’s bay.

  “Nice,” Luther marveled, caressing a Snap-on toolbox. “Always wanted a set of these.” Luther grinned.