Zombie Invasion

by R. G. Richards

  A knock came from her door. She opened her apartment door to see Simon standing there, smiling. “Simon?”

  “Yeah, Zee, it’s me.”

  “What on Earth? How did you get here?”

  “I hitched.” A broad smile crossed his lips.

  “Come in.” She looked down the hallway, praying he was alone. Thank god he was alone. She shut the door to tackle her new problem.

  “Wow! I like it, Zee.”

  “Well, it’s not finished yet.” She pointed to a wall. “They were supposed to paint these walls and shampoo the carpet, but didn’t. I ought to ask for my money back and move somewhere else.”

  “Are you crazy? This is great!”

  “No, it’s not, I should know, I live here. I’m going to call the landlord in the morning and if he doesn’t come over, I’m moving. I don’t have to put up with them treating me like I’m inferior. Like I’m some old mangy dog they can kick around.”

  “Will you stop being dramatic, Zee. This is a good place. Let me move in with you.”

  “Yeah right,” she smiled.

  “You don’t have to act like that, Zee. You know what’s happening back home. Abigail is on the warpath. I swear to god, one of these days, I’m going to pretend she is a zombie and blow her head off.”

  Zora’s eyes became saucers. “Simon! Don’t you dare! Don’t you ever say anything like that again. If she hears you . . .”

  “I’m kidding, but you know how she is. Let me stay with you.”

  The look on Zora’s face was telling. She rolled her eyes and shook her head, then went into the kitchen. A knock came from the door. Simon went to the door and answered. “Yes?”

  The stranger was a young man of twenty. Redness filled his cheeks as he cautiously looked over the boy’s head into the apartment. “Um, um, is Zora here?”

  “Who are you?”

  “Um, well, I’m Tom.”

  “Tom who?”

  “Naper, Tom Naper. Is Zora here?” he looked over the boy’s head again.

  “What do you want with my sister?”

  “Um, we were going to study.” He was tall and thin, had short brown hair and wore glasses. His lips twitched in a half smile.

  “You don’t have any books to be studying. How old are you anyway?”

  “Simon!” Zora’s voice went high, “move!” she shoved him to the side and stood smiling at Tom. “Hey, Tom.”

  “Hey, Zora. I thought we could um . . . study.”

  “Come on in and have a seat.”

  “Who is he?”

  “None of your business,” she said.

  “Does mom know about him?” asked Simon as he sat on the other end of the couch facing Tom.

  “Remember what we talked about earlier?” hinted Zora. “I might say yes.”

  “I’ll be in my room,” grinned Simon. He happily walked to the bedroom and shut the door.

  “I’ll explain later,” said Zora. “I’m finishing lunch, give me a minute. I’ll be right back.”

  “Of course,” said Tom.

  Zora gave an awkward wave. She looked to the bedroom door before returning to the kitchen. Tom picked up a magazine off the table and began reading.

  Hours later, Zora checked on Simon. Sometimes a heavy meal puts him to sleep. She stared at him from her bedroom door, listening to the soft sleeping sounds he made. It was at that point she remembered his hitchhiking tale. She thought to wake him and scold him if it were true. Instead, she shut the door to focus her attention on her guest.

  “Is he asleep?” whispered Tom.

  “Shh,” she said, “he is out.”

  As the young couple began their make-out session, a frantic knocking came from the door. Zora ran to the door to keep it from waking her brother.

  “Angela?”

  “Hey, let me in.”

  “What is going on?”

  Angela was her next door neighbor. She rushed into the room and ran to the window. Looking out, she scanned before turning.

  “Angela?”

  “You don’t hear them?” the middle-aged woman looked at her with confusion. She turned and performed a second scan.

  “Them? Who are them?”

  Angela looked about. “Where is your television?”

  “I don’t have one. What is going on?”

  Angela left the window. She didn’t pay attention to the fact that her neighbor had company. She blushed as she approached. “Sorry.” She extended a shaky hand. “Angela Anderson.”

  Tom shook her hand from his seated position. His grip was weak. He felt odd being in the apartment and thought he should leave.

  “Tom Naper. I’m happy to meet you.”

  “Angela?” repeated Zora. Worry lines crept across her face to match her new arrival’s.

  Angela sat across from Tom and waited for Zora to sit next to her friend. Her thin hands fidgeted in her lap. Occasionally, she would run a finger through her brown hair. “I can’t believe you don’t know. The zombies are here. A whole shitload of them came in from the north. The streets are a mess. I can’t believe you don’t know.”

  “Zombies are here?” asked Zora. Her first instinct was to look to her bedroom door. Though she hated her childrearing duties, it had been ingrained in her to protect Simon. Only he and Stewart had an honored place of protection in her heart.

  “Yes, they are spreading like wild fire. You don’t hear the gunfire?”

  Zora went to her window. She saw no signs of catastrophe. Turning to her neighbor, she gave a confused look.

  “Open the window,” said Angela.

  After lifting, a faint howling sound came to her ears. Then she heard the sound of distant gunfire. “Oh my god! I hear them.”

  “The army is coming to evacuate us. I have to go pack. The news said to pack a bag with clothes, phone, identification, and bottled water if you have it. I have to go.” Angela walked briskly to the door. She turned with a pained look. “Hurry, Zora, they are coming. I will meet you downstairs.” With that, she opened the door. Her eyes darted down each side of the hallway before she ventured out.

  Zora turned to Tom. “What do you think?”

  Tom sat dumbfounded, unsure of how to answer. His head made a slow turn from side to side. He stared at the floor, useless. Zora went into deep thought. A closer bang from her window shook her into action. She rushed to her bedroom door and went inside.

  “Simon, wake up.” She shook him.

  “What?”

  “We have to go. Get up, hurry!”

  Zora rushed from the room. The shotgun her father gave her was on her mind. She had to retrieve it and some ammunition. That was priority one. She never considered her neighbor could be lying. She would arm herself and then pack. She, Simon, and Tom would leave with Angela and the others. She ran to the kitchen for her weapon.

  Simon was rubbing his eyes as he came from the bedroom. He yawned and then waved at Tom. As he looked around to locate his sister, a scratching came from the door. Tom rose and went to take a look.

  Simon also heard the noise and moved to investigate from the bedroom door. He made it to the door ahead of Tom and out of curiosity reached for the doorknob.

  “No! You don’t know who that could be. Let me open the door,” said Tom.

  In an act of bravery, Tom opened the door wide. His eyes grew big as he saw it was not a small dog, but instead a zombie, more than one. Zombies rushed into the room at Tom. Tom turned to run as the first leaped toward him. He ducked and the zombie flew over his head. “Run Simon! Zora!” Tom was able to move toward the bedroom door before zombies flew at him. They all smashed through the thin door.

  Zora ran from the kitchen. She had found her shotgun, but not the ammunition for it. When she heard the howling, she dropped the gun to protect her brother. She screamed when she saw Tom struggling against three zombies in her bedroom. Her brother held his hands to a stark white face, eyes wide and hollow, gawking at the man on the bedroom floor. A creeping cloud fell over
Zora. Through the veil that fell over her, she heard Tom screaming for her to run. With all her might, she shook it off and ran toward Simon. Zora scooped him into her arms and ran out the door.

  Down the hall they went. When she and Simon emerged to the outside, their ears met the horror of their predicament. Roaming zombies filled the streets. The zombies howled and screamed as they fed on those who fell. Some of the creatures danced with glee at their bounty. Others leaped on and knocked to the ground humans they came across. Only a handful of humans had hope, running toward a thundering sound to her right.

  Her full senses came back to her. The picture became crystal clear. It was the army. The zombies weren’t dancing; bullets from a large group of soldiers riddled them. The soldiers let out screams of vengeance as they fired large black guns from the tops of military vehicles. Zora pointed at them. “Run!”

  They ran to safety with the others. They were helped into the back of a truck.

  As Zora reached out a hand to thank her rescuers, a female soldier hit her in the head with the butt of her gun. Zora fell to the bed of the truck. Simon, Angela, and the rest of those who had climbed aboard were beside her.

  * * *

  Camp Vix was a smaller installation than the famed Fort Leonard Wood. With a country in chaos, military law ruled the day. Each Camp or Fort secured itself with the local talent on hand. Meaning, the price of salvation was that you became army property. The military provided you with weapons, shelter, food, and safety. You in return served if of legal age—sixteen. Children aided the cause by mending and cleaning uniforms. When different teams ventured forth on scavenger hunts, children accompanied them to collect uniforms and weapons from fallen soldiers.

  They told Zora of the massive push of zombies into the area. Small towns with no sign of zombie activity were overrun within hours with no warning. Zombies were everywhere.

  The leader of Camp Vix described her farm to prove her family hadn’t survived the slaughter. With great reluctance, she dismissed all attempts at leaving for an eyewitness account. She had her brother and would keep her remaining family alive at all costs. That meant serving, so she served.

  Two weeks later, Zora walked her area with her rifle on her shoulder. Simon came out of the mess hall with another boy his age. The two were doubled-over, laughing. Zora’s spirits soared. She immediately left her post to be with her brother.

  “I got a good one,” said Simon. “Why did the zombie go to the orthodontist?”

  “I don’t know, why?” asked his friend, grinning.

  “To improve his BITE!” Simon opened his mouth as if to bite the boy. Both laughed.

  “I got one,” said his friend. “What's eighteen inches long, red, yellow and makes women scream?”

  “What?”

  “A zombie baby chomping the head off the family parakeet.” Again, they laughed.

  Zora saddled up next to Simon. “Very funny. Hey Timmy, how are you?”

  “I’m okay, Zora.”

  “Do you mind if I borrow my brother for a minute?”

  “No, go ahead. I’ll see you in a few, Simon.” Timmy held up his hands and howled like a zombie. Both laughed and then he walked off.

  “Zombie jokes?”

  “They’re funny.”

  “Zombies are serious business.”

  “Come on, Zee!”

  “Never mind, just hug your big sis.”

  She gave him a tight hug as if she hadn’t seen him in years.

  “Baker!”

  “Shit! Oops, sorry!”

  “You better go, Zee.”

  “I’ll see you tonight.”

  “See ya.”

  Zora took in a deep breath and turned. Just as she feared, Sergeant Welch stood next to Private Jones, both glaring.

  “Front and Center, Baker!”

  She ran and stood in front of Sergeant Welch, saluting and rigid. “Yes, sir.”

  Welch’s fists were clenched. He flexed them, but they returned to their clenched position. His face was more of a scarlet than cherry-red. She chose not to look at Jones or any of the others gathering for another round of humiliation.

  Ever since joining or drafted into the army, she got into trouble because every time she saw Simon, she would stop what she was doing and run to him. He was all she had and she needed him.

  Zora stood, waiting for the hammer to fall. Welch looked her up and down with disgust. “What is your problem, soldier?”

  “Nothing, sir.”

  “Marching in place didn’t do the trick. Does anything penetrate that thick skull of yours?”

  “Yes, sir!”

  “No, Baker, I think not! You are a head case. You are a subpar soldier with no intelligence. Maybe being with your own kind might prove fruitful.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  Zora began to be hopeful. Welch was a decent sort and took time to train her. If he was relieving her of duty and discharging her from the army, she would be grateful. She would be with Simon day and night and not these crazy sadists. Her eyes drifted while she stood at attention. She saw the water-hosed sadists that sprayed her all night long while she marched in full gear. He is probably mad he won’t get the chance to torture her again. But he wasn’t sad, he was grinning. So were the others. Something was wrong, terribly wrong.

  “Donovan!” Welch eyed her while the man approached.

  “Sir?”

  “Escort Private Baker to the stockades.”

  “Yes, sir,” said Donovan. He saluted then turned to Baker with a smile. “You know the way, Zee Zee.”

  “Don’t call me that.”

  “Give ‘em hell,” screamed one of the soldiers at her back. Zora never turned or replied. She kept her eyes at her feet and walked to the stockades.

  An MP opened the door and she marched into an empty cell. The cell slammed shut and she was left alone with her thoughts, something she detested.

  Later that night, a woman was brought in and placed in the cell next to hers. It took some time to figure out the woman had been bitten and was in transition. All night long Zora watched her, afraid she would be strong enough to break the bars between them and make her a chew toy.

  From above, a crackling noise came, then a hiss. Zora covered her ears, then heard a voice. “You want to hug, Simon?” shouted a voice from an overhead speaker.

  “What?” she looked up for clarity, but received none. Thirty minutes later, the recording played again and continued to play at that interval nonstop.

  She didn’t understand the meaning of it until the next morning. She was on the floor and her bunk was gone. The woman turned during the earlier hours and had her back to Zora. She knew something was wrong by the way the woman shook and made strange noises. Zora’s suspicions were confirmed when the woman turned around and ran at her, howling. The woman’s killer arms swung wildly at her.

  Zora screamed for help, no one came. After that, her wall shook with force. Before she knew it, her wall started moving. “No! No, no, no, no!” the wall was moving toward Zora and pushing her forward into the bars. She was moving directly into the grasp of the zombie.

  The zombie howled even louder, reaching for her. “Stop it! Please, stop it!” at that, the wall stopped.

  “You want to hug, Simon?” asked the voice.

  Zora got it now. “No, no. I don’t!” she shouted at the top of her lungs.

  The wall moved an inch closer. “You want to hug, Simon?”

  “No!” she pressed against the wall with all her strength, as if she could actually move it.

  The wall moved an inch closer. “You want to hug, Simon?”

  Almost crying, Zora shouted, “you bastards.” She pushed at the wall and watched her feet being pushed along the floor as it moved closer. With each lunge of the zombie, she smelled its putrid breath. ‘Death warmed over’ doesn’t do justice to the smell of the creature that kept lunging with glee for a trapped meal. They wouldn’t do this to her would they? They couldn’t, she thought, she was a
United States soldier. “Please, stop!” her strength was gone. She could feel the wind behind each lunge now.

  “You want to hug, Simon?”

  “No.” Zora collapsed to the floor with her back against the wall. She looked into Zombie Woman’s eyes and saw no mercy, no reasoning. This was it. If the wall moved again, she would have her in her death grip.

  Recognition came to Zora. The situation wasn’t hopeless, she forgot about her feet until Zombie Woman went for them. Zora quickly moved them sideways. If nothing else, she would go out literally kicking and screaming for all she was worth. But maybe, maybe she wouldn’t have to. She looked up at the light in the cell, pleading in silence.

  With a hope and a prayer, she waited for the wall to move its last time. Zora hadn’t completely given up, though she was close. She was considering lunging at the beast; maybe she could somehow take it out. If not, she hoped it would be quick. She stood and prepared by holding her hands in combat stance.

  “I get it, you bastards! I get it!” With her limited training, she readied for her assault.

  To her surprise, the wall retreated. Zora raced to catch the retreating wall and glued her back to it, watching Zombie Woman in case her wall moved forward. It didn’t.

  Two soldiers entered the stockade. They were covered like firefighters and held flamethrowers. They opened them up on the zombie and Zora felt their heat. She crunched against the base of the wall and covered up as tightly as she could, making sure to cover her nose. The smell would be terrible. She huddled at the wall while they burned the zombie, listening to a looped tape of “hug Simon, hug Simon, hug Simon, you want to hug, Simon?”

  Zora learned a valuable lesson. Some of these people she could call friend, but in the end, they were army and played the part well. Never again would she desert her post. As the flames seared the creature, it seared that lesson into her core being.

  * * *

  Jones and Dushell were in a small room above the cells. They watched a monitor displaying the events. Dushell took her finger off the recorders button and the looped playback ended.

  Sergeant Welch turned to both. “What do you think?”