Apocalyptic Beginnings Box Set

by M. D. Massey

  As she made it to the suburbs of San Jose, she was able to make better time than she had downtown. The zombies thinned out and less cars blocked her path. Finally, she made it to the highway headed east.

  She decided to take a back highway, rather than the interstate. As she turned onto the narrow road, and began driving up the elevation, she checked her gas gauge and noticed she only had half a tank. Jada gritted her teeth and looked down at her daughter, crying softly on the floor of the front seat. She threw all the bags in the backseat.

  “Niah, you can sit down and put on your seatbelt now.”

  The child did as she was told and dried her eyes with the palms of her hands.

  “Are we ever going home again?” Niah asked.

  “I don’t know,” Jada said. “But I’m going to take you somewhere safe.”

  “Where we going?”

  “Do you remember Mammy and Papa’s cabin where we went last summer?”

  “Yes,” she said. “We had so much fun fishing in the lake.”

  “That’s right,” Jada said. “We’re going there. I think we’ll be okay once we make it to the cabin.”

  “Why did Daddy try to bite me?” Niah asked.

  Jada let out a long sigh. She couldn’t answer that question in any satisfactory way, but she had to try. She wasn’t going to lie to the kid, but she would try to put it as delicately as possible.

  “A lot of people got really sick. And it made them lose their minds. The person you saw that tried to bite you,” Jada started, “that wasn’t really your dad. It was something else inside your dad’s body.”

  “A zombie?” Niah asked pointedly.

  “Something like that. Something a lot like that.”

  “I understand. Dad and Tiffany turned into zombies,” Niah said.

  “I’m sorry that happened, babe,” Jada said.

  “It’s not your fault they got sick.”

  Jada sighed, gripping the steering wheel as she continued down the narrow, winding road headed east.

  “Did you kill them?” Niah asked.

  Jada was silent, thinking over her response for quite some time.

  “Yes. I put them out of their misery. They weren’t really your daddy and Tiffany anymore. You understand that, right?”

  “I know a lot about zombies. I’ve been playing Minecraft for two years.”

  “I’m afraid this isn’t very much like Minecraft.”

  “No. It’s a lot less fun.”

  Niah slunk down in her seat and crossed her arms, looking out the window like the forlorn and confused kid she was. Jada’s heart bled tears of despair for her child. What kind of life could she give her daughter now? She tried to turn on the radio, but all she heard was static on every channel. Finally, she came to the emergency broadcast station that seem to be replaying recorded messages. It instructed listeners on what to do with the zombies. Don’t let them bite you. The illness is transmitted through saliva. Stay away from them. Don’t try to help them. Stay away from populated areas. They’re attracted to movement and noise. Still no word on how the original infection started. The working theory is it spreads by air. The incubation period is extremely short. Anywhere from a few minutes to twenty-four hours.

  Jada couldn’t hear any more, so she turned off the radio and put in a CD of uplifting music. She looked over at Niah, who had her arms crossed and her cheek resting against the far side of the chair. She couldn’t see her face, but she could only imagine how she felt. Jada checked her gas gauge and found it had a quarter of a tank as she passed Mount Hamilton. She’d have to stop for gas soon.

  The cars she had seen on the highway were all full of undead. She didn’t know what kind of luck she would have in a town. Her best option was to try and siphon gas from another vehicle, but she didn’t have any of the tools she needed for the job. She didn’t know how, but she was going to keep her daughter alive.

  Jada had a quarter tank of gas, a few days of food, and a destination. Right now, that was all she needed.

  10

  Cody woke early, turned on the generator, and made himself a large pot of coffee. He was going to need it for what he had to do today. The entire dead herd was still out there in the pasture, festering under the sun. The stink was getting to him. Luckily for him, his family owned a backhoe, which would make it a heck of a lot easier to bury the carcasses.

  As he drank his coffee and ate his breakfast, he turned on the radio to see if there was any news from the outside world. Flipping through the stations, he grew more despaired with each static-filled channel he flipped past. Finally, he came to a weak signal with people speaking in excited tones in what must have been French. At least there were some other people alive.

  Unfortunately, he didn't understand French, and had no idea what they were talking about. He deduced that they must be having the same problems in Canada that they were in Wyoming, and flipped off the radio.

  His parents still hadn’t contacted him. When he called their cellphones, he didn't even get their voicemails anymore. He didn’t even get a dial tone.

  After he finished his breakfast and three cups of coffee, he went out to the side of the house and turned off the generator. As he walked toward the barn where the backhoe was parked, he noticed the old farm cat Felix prowling through the field.

  "Felix," he said, crouching to the cat’s level. "Here, kitty, kitty."

  Felix meowed and pranced over to Cody. He petted the cat until he purred and then picked him up. He was a sleek, muscular, black cat with white socks. Knowing there was another living creature still on the farm filled Cody with so much joy.

  "I'm so happy you're still here," he said.

  He carried him into the house and found some slices of cheese from the basement refrigerator to offer him. A separate generator kept the refrigerator and freezer in the basement running. They were still stocked with meat and other provisions. Eventually, he’d have to go into town to find more propane. The truck that filled the tanks had not come this week, and he didn't expect it to ever return.

  Happy that he had a friend, Cody headed back out to the backhoe with Felix trailing behind him. He climbed in and drove out into the field where he began digging. The work took him most of the morning, and by midday, there was a four-foot-deep, hundred-meter-long trench cutting across the pasture.

  Using the backhoe to move the cows proved much more difficult than digging. Scooping up a fully grown cow and depositing her into the trench took a lot of maneuvering. Blood smeared across the spring grass and the smell of death clung to everything. He tied a bandana over his nose but that didn't help much.

  It took him an hour to move ten cows. He knew the job was going to take all day. At three o'clock in the afternoon, he decided to quit for a bite to eat. He hadn't had anything since breakfast. Even with the smell of rotting flesh making him gag every five seconds, his stomach was gnawing at him for food.

  He hopped down from the backhoe and walked to the house. Inside, he pulled everything he needed to make a sandwich from the basement refrigerator. He wouldn't have fresh bread for much longer unless he cooked it himself.

  He knew eventually he would have to go into town for more supplies. He’d have to face the fact that everyone he had ever known had been turned into a creature just like Dillinger and the rest of the herd. But for now, he would busy himself with his work and be content that Felix was still with him.

  If the cat was still alive, then maybe there were still humans left. After the cows took sick, he’d believed that every mammal in the world had taken sick too. He'd seen vultures flying overhead and the hens in the hen house hadn't been affected by the sickness. He ate his sandwich and hurried out of the house, ready to get back to work at his repulsive task. He was already tired, and the smell of the cattle hit him hard when he got back to the field.

  He tied an additional bandana around his nose, climbed in the backhoe, and angled the bucket at a bloated body. His aim was slightly off, and the spikes of the bucket
sliced into the cow, puncturing its bloated stomach and sending a gushing heap of guts and blood onto the ground. His bandanas did nothing to block out the smell, and Cody turned away from the site and retched, puking all over the ground.

  He looked at his lunch with disgust, having wasted a good meal. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and replaced the bandanas over his nose. As he sat back down in the seat, he saw Felix running into the hay barn in the distance. He took a deep breath through his mouth and let it out, steeling himself against the disgusting scent. Moving the bucket around to the hole, he dumped the cow inside and continued the grizzly job.

  It took him until long after sunset to move all the cattle from the pasture into his hole. When he was done, he covered the hole with a mound of dirt he'd dug earlier that day. He checked his watch after he scooped up the last load of dirt. It was after midnight.

  Cody drove the backhoe out of the field toward the body of his bull, Dillinger. It was still lying on the now bloodied shop floor. He couldn't just leave a dead zombie bull carcass in the shop. He'd have to dig it another hole and drag it out. The bull was heavier than the cows and he didn’t think his backhoe could lift it.

  He dug a hole behind the shop, and when he was done, he chained Dillinger's back legs to the winch on the backhoe and slowly pulled the massive creature from inside the shop. Once outside, he unchained the carcass and pushed it into the hole.

  When he was done covering the hole, his head swam and his body ached. Cody was used to putting in a long day of work on the ranch, but he could never remember feeling so bone tired. He took his clothes off on the porch, not wanting any of the smell in the house, and turned the generator on to heat the water in the water heater.

  The house was plumbed with water from a well. Once the water was hot, he sat in the tub for a long time trying to clear his mind of what he’d done that day. After his bath, he went on to the kitchen and made himself a big meal of steak, eggs, and bacon.

  As he was about to go outside and turn off the generator, he heard a scratch at the door and a muffled meow. He opened the door and Felix was on the other side, holding a small bird in his mouth. He dropped the bird and offered it to Cody. Cody knelt and pet the cat on the head, thanking him for his gift. Felix ran inside, and Cody closed the door behind him.

  His mother had never allowed animals in the house, although Cody used to let him in occasionally. Cody was glad for the company tonight. Felix ran upstairs and slid through the open door into Cody’s bedroom. He followed the cat and got into bed, totally worn out. Felix jumped in beside him, curling up at his feet.

  "Good night, friend," Cody said as Felix purred by his ankles.

  His mama would have been furious, but Cody had never been so happy to have an animal in the house.

  Cody woke the next morning to the sound of pounding on his door, he started and leapt out of bed. Felix jumped to the floor, stretching lazily. Cody slipped on his slippers and hurried down the stairs. The banging on the door grew louder, and he grabbed the rifle as he approached the door. He could see movement on the other side and looked through the small window on the heavy oak door.

  On the other side of the door stood a group of neighbors from down the road. He’d known them all since his childhood, but they weren't at all how he'd remembered them. The Wainwright family had become monsters. The mom, dad, and their two children had all turned. They were covered with blood and dirt, and all but the father had bite marks all over their bodies.

  It was the first time Cody had seen human zombies except for flashes on the news. The sight of their dead faces was more alarming than he'd expected. He’d known this moment was coming, and he’d purposely avoided leaving the ranch to put off the inevitable, but now it had come to him.

  The Wainwrights scratched at his door, grunting and groaning on the other side. Cody backed away and sat on the foot of the stairs. Resting his head in his hand, he considered what Pa would do.

  He shook his head in despair. He knew he’d have to get rid of them just like he had the herd. But he knew these people. Walter Wainwright was one of his pa's best friends. Cody couldn’t help wondering what had brought the creatures all the way here from the Twin Creek Ranch, three miles up the road. It didn't matter now. Maybe they were attracted to the noise of the backhoe running all day yesterday. Maybe they could just sense he was inside. No matter what, he would have to dispatch them. Felix walked lazily down the stairs and pawed at the door.

  "You're to stay inside for now, little buddy," Cody said.

  He took a deep breath and stood, still wearing his pajamas and slippers. He pulled on a denim jacket and rubber boots, as he often did when he had morning chores. Walking to the back door in the kitchen, and thought about firing a gun near the house. His mom would not be happy if there were bullet holes in the siding.

  He grabbed his slingshot off a shelf in the mud room on the way out the back door, and picked up a stone from the gravel driveway. He placed the stone in the slingshot and shut it at a tree along the driveway, across from the porch. The zombies looked up and started toward the sound of the rock knocking the wood. They were slower than the cattle had been on the first day. Cody realized that they got worn out over time and slowed down the longer they were dead.

  Walter walked down the stairs first, followed by his family. The children still seem to have some pep in their steps, even after the three-mile hike down the road. He lifted his .22 slowly and aimed at the oldest child, five-year-old Becky Wainwright. She still wore pigtails and a handmade gingham, stitched with love by her mother Mary. He blinked several times, trying to get up the nerve as he followed the girl in his sights across the driveway. He kept telling himself it was no longer little Becky Wainwright. She was one of those things now. Steeling his nerves, he pulled the trigger, and the bullet sliced through the air, splitting the young girl’s head wide open.

  The other zombies reacted and were instantly reinvigorated at the prospect of fresh meat. Walter charged across the gravel. Cody turned and ran toward the shop, rushing up the ladder as quickly as he could. Walter grabbed Cody’s leg, but he pulled himself free just before the monster bit his boot. The rubber boot fell to the ground in the struggle, and Cody cursed himself for not being more prepared. He’d been confused by the sight of his neighbors turned into zombies, and the emotion had made him careless. He vowed never to let it happen again.

  On the top of the shop, he aimed down at the zombies below. They clawed at the side of the building, their long nails scraping the metal siding. Walter grasped the bars of the ladder and for a moment Cody thought he might start to climb, but it quickly became clear he lacked the coordination to do so.

  Cody aligned his crosshairs just between Walter’s eyes and shot. The man fell backwards with a groan. He knocked Mary and Suzy sideways as he fell. But that only made the remaining creatures angrier. Cody took a deep breath and aimed at Mary. Her shirt was torn open, revealing pasty white flesh that hung on her chest, and rolls. He shot, his bullet slicing through Mary Wainwright’s head. The remaining child, three-year-old Suzy, grew furious, spitting and groaning and growling as she hopped and scratched at the ladder. Out of the corner of his eye, Cody saw Felix start from the back porch. He must have let him out in his hurry to take care of the invasion. Suzy saw it too and went running after his pet.

  "No!” he screamed.

  Felix darted under the front porch. The little girl fell to her hands and knees and began crawling after him. He shot at her spine. Her legs stopped working, but that didn't stop her from disappearing under the porch.

  "God dammit," he said, climbing down the ladder. There was no way he was going to let that child zombie kill his only friend. He got to the ground and landed with one bare foot on the gravel.

  "Hey, kid," he yelled.

  The little girl turned herself around, her legs useless as she dragged herself over the gravel driveway. He walked forward, the gravel piercing his foot as he narrowly avoided a pool of zombie blood.
He'd made so many mistakes today, he was lucky he was still alive. He shot, and the corpse fell dead for the second time.

  Back in the house, he thoroughly washed his feet. No skin was broken but it had been too close. He didn't know how the virus was transmitted, but he was guessing that zombie blood in open wounds wasn't a good idea. After he dressed he used the backhoe to dig another hole, scooped all the corpses into it and covered it up.

  After that, Cody decided he deserved the rest of the day off. He sat out on the porch in a rocking chair, smoking one of his dad’s cigars. With his rifle slung across his lap, he watched the road for any more of his neighbors. As he rocked and smoked, he began to devise a plan for protecting his property. Little by little, it came into focus.

  11

  Babs barreled down the driveway, her wheels bumping over the bodies of her fallen neighbors. Her husband's body still lay on the front yard where she’d left him, a bullet in his head. She cringed as she pulled around the corner onto the street, leaving her home behind in her rearview mirror.

  After thirty years of marriage, this was how it ended. Tears streamed down her face and she couldn't stop the flow. She was barely able to see through the haze over her eyes. Poor Henry. Poor sweet, dear Henry. What had become of the world? It had all fallen apart so quickly. Babs was so unprepared for this moment.

  She turned on the windshield wiper to wipe the speckles from the glass, and let out a long sigh. She maneuvered around the stalled cars on the road, zombies pounding on the glass inside cars. Along the road, they gorged on the bodies of the once living. Her pretty young neighbor Mazy Hinks ran from her burning home, only to be attacked by Chester Price from across the street. He tackled her to the ground and bit into her neck, feasting on her flesh. His teeth pulled away a chunk of her throat, and a moment later, she too rose and began her mindless march with the rest of the living dead.