Resurrection of the Fallen: Surviving New York

by Blake, Misti

  Resurrection of the Fallen:

  Surviving New York

  By Misti Blake

  Copyright 2014 by Misti Blake

  Resurrection of the Fallen: Surviving New York

  Wayne Publishing

  All rights reserved.

  Printed in the United States of America

  This book is a work of fiction. Any similarities to real people, living or dead, is purely coincidental. All characters and events in this work are figments of the author’s imagination.

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  No parts of this book may be reproduced in any form, except for the inclusion of brief quotations in review, without the permission in writing form from the author/publisher.

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  I would like to thank my friends and family for their support and advice during the process of writing this novel. I would also like to thank those who inspired me even when they didn’t know that they had! For those that put me through hardships, allowing me to come out on the other side fighting, I thank you. You helped mold my characters. Thanks to Chasity Nicole, Wanda Eudy, Robin Rodriguez, Terry Vanhoy, and Jamie Gray, especially. I wouldn’t have gotten this done if it weren’t for you all. You lent me your ears when I needed it and an information source when I couldn’t find it myself. Thanks to Diane Riggins for Reagan’s character. She was such a delight to write about! You are just as kick-ass as she is. To Wes McCloud for inspiring me to write a horror novel without holding back. You have been such an influence on me. Thanks to the Fiction Writers Group members that helped me with parts of this. Special thanks to my beta readers, my readers, and for the editors that have ran my story in their newspapers. You’re all wonderful!

  When faced with a great uncertainty and fear, human nature takes over all cognitive functions. It becomes common place for a human dealing with that type of strain to lose all sense of self and start acting irrationally to compensate for the chaos that they’ve found themselves in. Repetition and familiarity become important aspects of their lives to combat the loss of control that they feel they may never regain. It is, however, never an excuse for blatant violence against another human being. If anything is taken from this novel, let it be that no matter the situation you find yourself in, no matter the difficulty, the right thing to do is to hold onto what makes you the person that you are and that wrongs only make things worse. Human nature may make it common place, but once you turn over that leaf, you cannot go back to the way you used to be. You will forever retain a part of that carnal violence within your heart and soul.

  Chapter 1

  Munich, Germany- September 1, 1934

  1:00AM

  As the cool winds of a late summer’s night blow through the landscape, plans to attack the Allies were well underway. The Führer, who had not long been in power, was holding secret meetings every month under the cover of darkness with an underground society out of the USSR. The first of every month, Adolf Hitler could be seen disappearing into a rundown die Kneipe, or pub, on the outskirts of Munich. He never tried to hide his face from his followers; he had no need to. They were already following him with an undying certainty that he would lead them to salvation and domination. No matter how dangerous or insane his plans were, they were blind to the consequences to the point of being willing to commit suicide should he ask for it.

  The two men he was meeting, however, had every reason to hide their identities. The wrong person recognizing them later down the road could uproot their entire reason for being here right now. They walked hunched over with their heads down, faces hidden behind the huge collars of their knee-length, beige trench coats. A small slit around their eyes was all that could be seen between the collar and the black fedoras that each of them donned on their heads. They carried nondistinct briefcases in their right hands, keeping their left hands tucked into the pockets of their coats so that they could easily grab the pistols hidden there in a hurry. They couldn’t afford to take any chances.

  They disappeared quickly through the front door of the die Kneipe, heading straight for the door to the far left that led to the secret basement downstairs. They never looked up and they never turned their heads to take in their surroundings. They sharpened their ears to the sounds of the pub and paid special attention to any footsteps coming toward them as they darted their eyes back and forth, scanning the room for anything out of place. But not a soul in the room paid these two strangers any attention today. They had became commonplace every month; a fixture to the surrounding atmosphere.

  They hurriedly darted through the door leading to the basement, locking it behind them. They couldn’t have anyone walking in on them or they would risk losing their heads for terrorism. The clanking of their mud-soaked boots on the old steps gave away their presence to those waiting below in silence. When they reached the lonely table in the middle of the room surrounded by Hitler and his men, they relaxed a little. They knew they had finally reached safety among these men. The taller of the two pulled his left hand out of his pocket, away from his pistol, and took the briefcase from his partner. He gently laid them onto the table in front of the men and turned to the Führer. “Guten Abend, Herr Führer,” he stated. ‘Good evening, Mr. Führer.’

  “Guten Abend. Keine Neuigkeinten?” Hitler asked, as anxiously as a child on Christmas morning. ‘Any news?’

  “Es ist geschehen. Dies ist das letzte Mal, dass sie uns sehen. Der Plan wird in Gang gesetzt. Die Papiere sind alle hier, um sie sehen,” the Russian replied softly. ‘It is done. This is the last time you will see us. The plan is being set in motion as we speak. The papers are all here for you to see.’

  Hitler nodded his head absently as he reached for the first briefcase. The red velvet lined case contained a pile of paperwork stacked neatly in the center pocket, held together by strings of yarn. In one of the smaller pockets located on the lid, however, there sat a tiny vial containing a green liquid. He gingerly lifted the vial out of its home and asked, “Ist das der Virus? Ister bereit zu verwenden?” ‘Is this the virus? Is it ready to use?’ The vial gleamed in the glowing lantern light, casting a menacing look to the liquid held within. The aspects of the liquid that made it unique weren’t ascertainable without pulling the cork out, but in doing so it could potentially cause an early outbreak and ruin their plans before the paperwork was completed properly.

  “Ja. Es wurde perfektioniert und hat nicht versagt in jeder Prüfung noch nich,” the Russian replied, impatient to get out of there and back to his home country. ‘Yes. It has been perfected and has not failed in any trial yet.’ Being around the Führer made even the most hardened spy nervous. These two were the best in all of the USSR, but the ruler of Germany worried them. A few minutes passed by in silence as Hitler reviewed the paperwork, vial still in one hand.

  “Ausgezeichnet. Nun wird die Welt wissen, wie es ist, leiden von der Tyrannei und der Verlust von Angehörigen. Sie werden wissen, was Deutschland ist, wurde seit dem ersten Weltkrieg,” Hitler finally cackled as he reveled at the impending doom that would befall the entire planet. ‘Excellent. Now the world will know what it is like to suffer from tyranny and the loss of loved ones. They will know what Germany has been through since the first World War.’

  “Natürlich, Führer. Unsere Mitarbeiter sind bereits in der Ausbildung für diese Mission. Doch eine Warnung: Ihr Land aufbauen muss, eine Mauer so schnell wie sie können. Sie werden nicht in der Lage sein zu kämpfen was dies verursacht. Zu verhindern, dass sich der Virus aus und speichern Sie das Leben Ihres Volkes später,” the Russian
ominously warned. ‘Of course, Führer. Our agents are already being trained for this mission. But a warning: your country needs to build a wall as quickly as they can. You will not be able to fight what this will cause. Prevent the virus from getting in and save the lives of your people later.’

  “Ich sehe. Sie können,” Hitler replied, shooing them away with his hand. ‘I see. You may leave.’ The Russians bowed and left the Führer’s country just as fast as they could. They didn’t trust him as far as they could throw him, which wasn’t far since his guards would prevent them from touching the man. The plans that he had for the Jews, and all that opposed him, were beyond the scope of horrific. Killing is one thing, but starving, branding, and gassing were another. The Russians would rather cut someone’s finger off before killing them than to prolong torture in such a manner. They could only hope that their leader would never decide to get on the wrong side of this much bigger plan.

  Chapter 2

  Washington, D.C.- April 16, 2016

  2:15PM

  Screams could be heard from inside the White House in the warm, early afternoon. Crowds and news crew gathered at the gates in the bathing rays of sunlight to witness what was going on. The President and the entire White House workforce had been busy all morning to get ready for a banquet being held that night. However, all hell seemed to have broken loose half an hour ago within the capital. All contact had been lost with those inside and the doors and windows had been locked as well. Despite the attempts made by those outside, access could not be achieved. All anyone could do was watch and listen as people continued to scream bloody murder.

  Children clutched to their mothers’ sides and wives held tightly to the hands of their husbands. A news reporter stood over to the side, microphone in hand, and waited for the cue to start speaking. “Good evening. This is Lanie Miller coming to you live from Washington, D.C. Reports came in moments ago about screaming coming from the White House. Right now, all communication is down to the inside and no reports are coming through other than that the doors and windows are all locked. There are approximately thirty people inside, trapped and alone with whatever is going on. Speculations of terrorism are running through the crowds gathered here. As of yet, however, we cannot conf-” the reporter paused as she lifted her hand to her ear bud in her left ear. The expression on her face went from worried to panic as she listened in on what was coming across from the station. Her hand dropped suddenly as she said, “Folks, I just received word that we are not alone in this attack. Government buildings around the world are facing this horrendous, confusing atrocity. Word from Galveston, Texas is that this is the fault of the Russians. They were able to capture the mayor’s assistant while he was downing a vial of liquid in the capital building. Reports also state that his final words were ‘long live the USSR’ as he started to turn into something inhuman and he was gunned down. Apparently, the vial contains a virus that turns its drinker into a cannibalistic undead. As of three hours ago, Russia and Germany had constructed a metallic wall around their countries to protect the people. Apparently, they already had pieces of it constructed prior to this and only had to put them into place via helicopter. It would seem that this attack was premeditated.”

  She wiped a few tears from her eyes as she cleared her throat. “It appears that we have hit World War Three, folks. May God have mercy on us all. I pray we all make-” her sentence was cut short as a chair came flying through one of the White House’s windows. The camera zoomed in to see a man that appeared to be Secret Service trying to climb out. He was covered in blood from head to toe and seemed to have a wound on his arm. His face was twisted in anguish and his gun was missing its clip. He made it out a few feet away only to be tackled to the ground by a zombie coming out behind him. The crowd watched in horror as the man was torn apart, screaming for help until the zombie tore out his jugular. An eerie, uncomfortable silence befell the crowd as they watched him be devoured and other creatures stepped out through the window. The beasts turned their attention to the gates. Their sites locked onto the crowd.

  Suddenly, it was like the realization of what was happening dawned on those gathered there. The resulting stampede was a heart-jerking sight to see. People were pushing each other, trampling those that had fallen. They were going in every direction, confused and unsure of what to do or where to go. Children lost their families and just stood around crying. Many people lost their lives for not being fast enough. Their screams as they were stepped on and kicked filled the air to replace the screaming that had ceased to come from the White House. Mass chaos ensued.

  New York

  Fifteen minutes earlier

  Our family had gone out early that morning to get on a ferry to go to Coney Island Amusement Park. My six year old sister, Samantha Jameson, had been bugging my father for weeks to go. We took this chance to enjoy one another’s company; the last chance I may get before going off to college to become a pharmacist. I had brought some medicine books along to study while Samantha rode the rides that I was too big for. I was in my senior year of high school and just celebrated my eighteenth birthday a month ago. I would be leaving home in a few short months and my sister would be the only child left in the house. My dad and step mom wouldn’t know what to do with only a six year old in the nest. They’d probably start having the neighborhood kids over a lot more to compensate.

  My sister couldn’t contain her excitement as our car slowed down near the docks. She kept bouncing up and down in her booster seat, her short blondish-brown curls bouncing with her. The leather seats squeaked as her safety seat moved against it. Her mother, my step mom, laughed at her from the front passenger seat. “You’re too hyper. No candy for you when we get to Coney Island,” my step mom told my little sister. Samantha was an exact replication of her mother all the way down to her crooked pinky toe.

  “But, momma!” Samantha started protesting. My step mom threw her hand up and Samantha ceased her bouncing. We knew when she did that, she meant business and you didn’t want to cross her at that point. I couldn’t recall how many times I had done so with the end result of having to clean the neighbor’s houses as punishment for three weeks straight.

  “Brandy, babe, let her enjoy this day even if she gets sick. It could be her last one for a while with Morgan,” my dad softly whispered as he pulled the car up onto the ferry. “Our daughter is going to college soon,” he continued, trying not to get teary-eyed. It was easy to hear his sadness in his voice. The way his tone deepened in his attempt to hide his emotions gave him away every time.

  “Now don’t start that, dad. This is supposed to be a fun day out; not a dad-gets-to-cry-every-chance-he-gets day,” I said, rolling my eyes in the typical teenage fashion. I couldn’t believe that I had to remind him again that I wasn’t going to be gone long nor far away. Any excuse he could get to make me feel guilty for leaving him was better than none, I suppose.

  “I’m an ex-ranger, Morgan. Rangers do not cry. I am not crying. All I’m doing is trying to get something that’s in my eye,” my dad replied, rubbing his eyes with his hands before turning the car off and pulling the key out of the ignition. We got out one by one to join the ferrymen as they pulled the ramp up for departure. On the ferry, only two other passengers had joined us. It was weird, even then, to me, but I dismissed the lack of a crowd. They seemed a bit off as though they were up to no good, making me thankful for the fact that no one else was going along for the ride. I glanced up at the tall buildings lining the docks and found myself wondering how the rest of my life was going to go. I hoped that it didn’t involve my dad crying with every big step I took in life.

  “Are we eating first or are we going on rides first?” Samantha asked, grabbing our dad’s hand in hers. She proceeded to swing it back and forth, smiling from ear to ear. We hadn’t even made it there yet and she was already having fun. I had to laugh at her.

  “Let’s ride first, please. I don’t want her chunking on me later,” I pleaded, giving my father the puppy dog look.
It always worked on him. He was such a sap. My step mom was the one that was made of steel in the family. Nothing could make her give in to anything we wanted.

  “Yeah, great idea,” he replied, bending down to Samantha’s level. “We’re going to ride a little first so you don’t get sick on everybody, ok?”

  My sister nodded and took my dad’s face in her tiny hands. “Ok, daddy. But you and mommy have to ride with me,” she said just as sweetly as she could. I could pull off the puppy dog look, but this child had me beat hands-down when it came to guilt trips and succeeding in getting what she wanted.

  My step mom laughed at the way my dad became putty in Samantha’s hands. “We will do whatever you want to, Sam,” he replied, giving her a little kiss on the forehead. We made our way to the bow of the ferry near the cabin where we could listen to their radio system on the way to the island.

  It was surprisingly a smooth ride across the choppy water, but halfway between the harbor and Coney Island, an urgent broadcast came out over the radio. “We have entered World War III. The Russians and Germans have caused worldwide panic with the release of a nasty virus that has turned people into flesh-eating zombies. You heard that right, folks. A National broadcast has been issued warning everyone to stay in their homes and barricade the entrances. At this moment, there is not an estimate for when this will be resolved and the government asks that you all be patient. Do not venture outside for any reason. If they break into your homes, aim for their heads with any object you can get your hands on. That is the only way you can kill them where they stand. Avoid being bitten at all costs. In the case that you are bitten, leave the area at once and get as far away from your loved ones as you can. Stay safe, everyone,” the announcer broke through the crackles of the radio frequencies.