Survive (Sundown Series Book 2)

by Courtney Konstantin

  SURVIVE

  Courtney Konstantin

  Copyright © 2018 by Courtney Konstantin

  All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof

  may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever

  without the express written permission of the publisher

  except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  Table of Contents

  Title Page

  Copyright Page

  Dedication

  CHAPTER ONE

  CHAPTER TWO

  CHAPTER THREE

  CHAPTER FOUR

  CHAPTER FIVE

  CHAPTER SIX

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  CHAPTER NINE

  CHAPTER TEN

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

  EPILOGUE

  Acknowledgements

  Dedication

  For my Grams, who has read every random word I have written, even when it was filled with zombies. Thank you for making me believe.

  Love you more.

  CHAPTER ONE

  "We have to start Sundown, Max, do you understand?"

  "Yes, but, Alex, do you really think this is as bad as it looks..." Max trailed off as a fast busy sounded in her ear. Setting down the phone slowly, she turned back to look at the news being broadcasted in Charleston, South Carolina. In a daze, Max watched as scared reporters repeated the same messages of infected people becoming violent and attacking others. Video clips from around the country played: screaming, running, and blood starring in each place.

  "Mom?" Jack said, standing next to Max. She looked so much like Max. Though, Jack kept her black curls long, while Max always kept hers short and manageable. Jack inherited hazel eyes from her father, instead of Max's ice blue. Those eyes met hers now, full of worry and fear.

  "Mom? What did Auntie Alex say?"

  Alex, Max's older sister, called and used the one word that their father had always repeated and ingrained in their minds. Sundown. That word was more of a plan than just a term. It was what their father envisioned would happen when the world fell apart. Sundown on society and everything they knew. When Alex, Max, or their brother Rafe used that word, it meant one thing. Run.

  Growing up Alex was more of a mother figure to Max at times than a big sister. Their mother had died giving birth to Max, leaving Max with no memory of the woman that smiled in the photos she grew up looking at. Alex was only four years older than Max. That didn't stop her from mothering Max whenever she felt their father wasn't handling the job correctly. As a small child, Max idolized Alex. When they were teenagers, Max rebelled against Alex. Now the two of them were not only sisters but close friends.

  Max had called Alex at the start of the weekend about a news story out of Florida. At that time, it was drugs and violence. Alex had laughed off the story but, in her gut, Max thought there was something else going on. Their father, Mitch Duncan, had taught Max to always trust her gut. She had followed his lessons religiously. She knew that story was something more. She hadn't expected things to get as bad as they were.

  After speaking with Alex at the start of the weekend, Max and Jack headed out of town for a small camping trip. Max enjoyed being away from the world, in nature, the way she spent much of her childhood. Just taking Jack to the forest, leaving all connections with the real world behind. They enjoyed their time away together, Max teaching Jack the things she knew from her childhood. It seemed this time she left the real world for too long. Now it was falling apart.

  Driving back into Charleston, Max thought there was more traffic than normal. They drove during the early dark hours of the morning and Max hadn't noticed any of the pandemonia that was showing on the news now. Frankly, she was used to seeing some interesting events living in South Carolina. The reporter on the TV was now saying that if you came into contact with an infected, do not approach, do not try to reason with them. Just get away safely.

  Jack's small hand slid into Max's as they watched the devastation. Max looked down at her again, thoughts running through her head. Sundown meant she needed to get herself and Jack to Montana. Her childhood home, later her father's compound, was near Flathead Lake. Calling it a compound was fitting as her father had created a place for safety if anything in the world should threaten them. Her brother, Rafe, had been living there since their father's death three years before.

  Thinking of Rafe, Max released Jack's hand and picked up the phone again. Grateful she still had a dial tone, she punched in the numbers for Rafe's cell phone. She immediately heard Rafe's voice mail message. She left a brief message, relaying the activation of Sundown. She could only hope he received the message and wasn't off the grid somewhere with no knowledge of what was happening around the populated areas.

  Max stood, drumming her fingers on the kitchen table. She knew how to survive, knew where to go and how to get there. Looking around her small apartment, Max made decisions on what they would need. Time couldn't be wasted. Charleston was a heavily populated area. With the way the infection was spreading, the city was already too dangerous to be in.

  "Jack, we're going to Montana," Max said finally.

  "Why?"

  "Because things are going to get really bad before they get any better. Uncle Rafe's place, our family place, is the safest place for us now," Max explained.

  Jack stood watching the news as Max turned into the kitchen and started emptying the cabinets of things they could take with them. The trip to Montana would be a long one with everyone fleeing the cities. She piled all the canned foods together, adding them to a box of MREs she had stored in her pantry.

  The sound of running feet caused Max to freeze in place. The windows of her first-floor apartment were all covered with blinds, so she wasn't worried about someone seeing in. That wouldn't stop looters from trying to break in. Light on her feet Max ran toward the front door where they had set all of their camping gear. She pulled her tactical tomahawk from its sheath.

  She went to the small window in Jack's room that had a view of the parking area. Pulling back the blinds just a bit, she peered out just in time to see a woman running by. Her face was etched with fear as she looked over her shoulder. Max leaned closer to the window and looked in the direction the woman was looking. She wasn't prepared for what she saw.

  The old apartment handyman was chasing after her. Max changed her mind, he wasn't chasing as much as following. The movements of his body were strange and unnatural. Each joint seemed to pop and move the body in different directions, no longer working together with a working brain. What horrified Max the most though, was his uniform. Normally a man to be clean and crisp when he came to your apartment to fix something, he was now covered in blood. So thick in some places, it was black.

  The man staggered past the window, never giving the glass a second glance. The woman was well out of sight, but the man kept going in the same general direction. As he passed, Max got a good look at his face and she gasped. His eyes were black and dead. She tried to remember what color they were before but realized she was kidding herself to think for a moment that his eyes were anywhere near that abnormal color.

  Max didn't move away from the wi
ndow until the infected man was gone. Turning to leave the room, she almost screamed when she ran straight into Jack who was standing behind her.

  "How long have you been standing there?" Max asked, clutching her heaving chest.

  "Long enough," Jack answered.

  "That's what we have to avoid," Max said, gesturing toward the window.

  "What happened to him? Why was he covered in blood?"

  "It's this infection. It's making people hurt other people. So stay away from anything that has black eyes," Max concluded as she left the room.

  Max grabbed their bug out bags, always in the hall closet. She stuffed MREs and bottled waters into them. She would try to load more food into her small truck, but they needed provisions on them in case the worst happened. Teaching Jack about bug out bags and being prepared was second nature. Max knew she didn't even need to check the bags for accuracy, they were always kept packed completely.

  After moving their provisions to the front door, Max unlocked her gun safe and pulled out her 9 mm. Her father hadn't been big on holidays or gifts. When he did give things they were items associated with prepping. Alex and Max received matching 9 mm handguns from him one Christmas. It was Max's go to gun, and she strapped it to her hip. On the other side, she strapped the tomahawk sheath, another weapon that had been a gift from her father.

  Mitch Duncan was never the normal father. He was all Max had known. Losing his wife had sent her father into a dark spiral. He found a conspiracy in everyday events and was obsessed with being prepared for the worst to happen. While Alex seemed to resent Mitch at times and Rafe was indifferent, Max hung on his every lesson. For her, Mitch's gruff exterior and erratic personality didn't make him less of a father.

  The tactical tomahawk was a gift for her twelfth birthday. Most girls at her age would have been horrified by the brushed metal, sharp edges, and smooth leather sheath. Max, on the other hand, was overly thrilled. Even more so when Mitch taught her to throw it accurately enough to hit a tree trunk from ten feet away. He also taught her how to use it as a weapon in close combat, and that was what Max thought would be useful now.

  Jack met Max at the front door, her own small knife on her belt. She looked determined and ready. For an eight-year-old girl, she was wildly insightful and not much missed her observations. She bent and picked up her bug out bag, swinging it onto her back.

  "I'm ready. Are we going now?" She asked Max.

  "I'm going to take these bags out first. Wait here and stay out of sight. As soon as the truck is loaded, I'll come back for you," Max replied as she loaded her hands full of bags.

  Opening the front door slowly, Max peered around the walkway. Nothing seemed to move. Standing still for a moment she listened. Chaos seemed to reign in the city. Screams and shouts could be heard. The sounds of gunfire seemed to echo through the buildings, closer than Max would have liked. Gunfire meant people fighting. Whatever they were fighting, Max didn't want to see, so she hoped the healthy people were winning.

  Stepping out, she motioned for Jack to close and lock the door behind her. Once she heard the click she rushed toward the parking lot. Getting to her truck, she opened the back door and loaded the food quickly, looking around constantly for any sneak attacks from the infected nearby. Max rushed two more trips to the truck with food, clothing, first aid supplies, and water. She closed the door behind her in the apartment one more time.

  "The TV and phone aren't working anymore," Jack said.

  "Didn't expect them to last long," Max replied. "This is what Gramps always said would happen. The world would easily fall apart."

  "Do we just go?"

  Max thought about that. Living on the East Coast had taken her far from her family. At the time, she was rebelling against the constraints her father put on her life. Max couldn't live in the compound, watching Jack be completely cut off from the world. Running had left them without family ties nearby. But Max couldn't help but think of some of the women she worked with at a local dentist office. Most of them were older than Max and felt it was their duty to be Max and Jack's family.

  Now those connections confused Max's plans. She didn't need to care about anyone else but Jack. Leaving town immediately and getting to Montana as fast as possible should be their only goal. But here she stood, one hand on the doorknob, not sure of the decision she should make. She cursed inwardly, knowing this was the main reason she never wanted to have these relationships.

  "We have to make a stop," Max said finally, a decision made. She would go to the dentist office, find the addresses of the women who had been kind. If she could help, she would. If not, they would move on quickly.

  Opening the door slowly, Max checked the walkway again. She heard a door slam down the way and the noise caused her to pause. Nothing seemed to move, so she stepped out with Jack's hand in hers. They left the door unlocked, knowing they would never come back. Max figured someone else might come along that needed the shelter. When they arrived at the truck, Max helped Jack into the passenger side, keeping her bug out bag at her feet.

  As Max rounded the truck to get to her door a growl sounded behind her. Jack banged on the window, causing the growling infected to turn it's attention to her. Max swung around, pulling her tomahawk as she turned. She found an infected teenager limping toward the truck. She knew she could get in the truck and get away, but that would leave the boy to possibly kill someone else.

  Max whistled loudly toward the infected. His head whipped toward the sound, his body following in a grotesque manner. His unresponsive body bounced off the corner of the truck before rounding toward where Max stood. Clawed hands reached out toward her, fingers covered in blood. Snarls sounded from the throat, coming out of a mouth painted in red. The smell coming from him caused Max's stomach to convulse. Thinking about her father's lessons about close combat with the tomahawk, Max stepped into her swing, bringing the tomahawk down swiftly.

  The blade sliced into the shoulder of the teenager and Max quickly yanked it free. Slamming into the back of the truck, the infected started to fall to the ground and Max felt triumph. That feeling was quickly quashed as the infected gained its footing and swung back in her direction. His arm was hanging off of his body, unnaturally flopping around as he tried to reach Max.

  Disbelieving, Max watched the sick boy for another moment. The blow to the shoulder should have taken him down. At least slowed him. There was no reaction to the pain that should have come from the injury. He seemed to keep moving with only one thought in his mind. A Max Happy Meal. The absurd thought came into Max's mind and she almost laughed. Shaking her head, she cleared everything out except the fight.

  The boy was on her again, his unbroken arm up again, fingers reaching to rake at her skin. Stepping to the side of his reach, Max used the tomahawk to redirect his body. She wanted to test how the infected would react to a moving target. He didn't waste time swinging back around toward Max with a snarl. Wasting no more time, Max did the only thing she could think. She raised the tomahawk again. With all of her strength, she brought the blade down with a whistling crack.

  CHAPTER TWO

  The feeling of the tomahawk blade crashing into the skull of the infected boy reminded Max of slicing watermelons with her father. Mitch Duncan didn't give gifts of weapons without ensuring his kids knew how to use them and care for them. Max wanted to use her tomahawk so badly. Mitch made her practice on watermelons and later logs as she improved. Watermelons cracked in half when struck by the tomahawk. That was different, so much different, than hitting what was once a human head.

  As the infected boy's body fell, the tomahawk was ripped from Max's hand. Appalled at herself for losing her weapon so easily, Max quickly dislodged the deeply embedded blade. She would keep that in mind when fighting any others. She wouldn't allow her weapon to be so easily lost again.

  Max jumped in the truck, quickly starting the engine. The locks clicked, and Max looked over at Jack, the little girl's finger on the lock button.

  "M
omma, did you just kill that kid?" Jack asked quietly.

  "That kid wasn't alive anymore. It was the best thing to do for him," Max explained, throwing the truck into reverse and backing out of their parking spot.

  Everywhere Max looked, blood and bodies seemed to be piled. They circled the buildings, winding their way through to the exit. The windows of the apartment office building were broken in and the clubhouse raided. Max could see hanging cords where the flat-screen televisions used to hang. She shook her head in disgust realizing in all this madness there were people that decided to steal pointless electronics.

  Growing up electronics had not been a luxury the Duncan kids knew. Mitch kept a small TV in his room that had a handful of channels that were found by old rabbit ears. This was only for the end of the world. Mitch would explain that the first thing to really be unreliable would be wired cable and electricity. Every night after dinner Mitch could be found in front of his small TV watching the evening news. As Max got older, she knew her father wasn't normal. His whispers could be heard down the hall, as he jotted down confusing notes of conspiracy from the news stories he watched.

  Now Max lived in a world where electronics ruled. She had all of the normal things, TV, computer, cell phone. But she also knew how to navigate by the sun and stars, could go days without turning on the TV and knew how to live without a cell phone strapped to her ear. As she pulled away from the ravaged clubhouse she took a deep breath, pulling confidence and determination from deep down. She didn't need society. She could survive without it all.

  The main road outside of the apartment was clogged with vehicles trying to escape. Max quickly cut into the crowd of vehicles trying to drive in the bike lane, and she followed. As soon as she could cut through a parking lot to another road she did. Cars jumped medians, sidewalks, and other barriers just to avoid the congestion. Max watched the vehicles around her with sharp eyes, making sure no one got it into their heads to hit them.