Spoiled meat, milk, and eggs assaulted him. He held his breath and grabbed the couple of water bottles on the shelf and a jar of pickles. He stepped back, took another deep breath and scanned the remaining items. Nothing he trusted not to kill him. He yanked off what remained of the pantry door.
A box of pop tarts, and some boxes of fruit juice were added to the pile at his feet. Not much, but what could you expect from people who’d scoffed at the idea that a meteor would dare strike Earth. Still, the little he found was more than he had before. He counted himself fortunate.
The stairs leading to the second floor looked too unstable to chance climbing. But he was still tempted to search and see whether he could find a thicker jacket. No, he’d best be on his way before someone came along.
He added his new supplies to the bag of dog food, secured his bike to the back of the truck, and then climbed behind the wheel. One more trip up the mountain to retrieve the rest of his things and he’d see where the road west would lead him.
###
Lady’s bark yanked Chalice from a deep sleep. Her eyes probed the darkness, ears strained to hear.
Footsteps pounded above them. Survivors. But were they friend or foe?
“Lady.” she hissed. “Quiet.”
“What is it?” Mychal whispered. “Should I open the door?”
“No, not yet.” Chalice kicked off her blankets. “See to Hanna. Make sure she doesn’t make a sound and keep the dog quiet.”
She fished for the rifle propped beside the bed and slid her feet across the floor to feel her way. Something bashed the door. She clapped a hand over her mouth to stifle a scream. Another bash, then the window shattered.
Hanna shrieked.
“Hey! Someone’s down here.” A bearded face peered down at them. “It’s a bunch of kids. I bet they’ve got food.”
Chalice lifted the rifle and planted her feet to prepare for the gun’s recoil. “Get behind me Mychal. Hanna, too.” She didn’t want to shoot anyone, but she would if it meant saving their supplies.
“Go away. I swear I’ll shoot you.” She aimed for the hole.
“Sure you will, little girl.” The man stuck his arm through the window and grasped for the handle.
Chalice pulled the trigger, blowing away two of his fingers. She swallowed the bile rising in her throat. The man howled and pulled back. She held her breath, and waited.
“We’ll be back, girlie. You won’t be so lucky next time,” someone yelled.
Chalice plopped into a chair and cradled the gun. She’d recognized the second voice. One of the Baker brothers. They’d hold good to their promise.
She felt around the table top and pulled close the cigar box she’d decorated with pasta when she was in kindergarten. Please, God, let the station wagon be left unburned. She opened the box and fished out the keys. Tears welled as she thought of all the little things her mother had prepared for.
“Start gathering up everything that will fit in the back of the wagon. We have to leave.” Chalice stood and lit the oil lamp. “I’ll get the car from the woods and meet you back here. Don’t let anyone in but me.”
“Where are we going?” Mychal stared at her with wide eyes.
“Wherever the road takes us.” She reached out a trembling hand and unlatched the cellar door, then stepped back with the gun pointed at the entrance. When nothing moved, she shoved it open and stepped outside. Although her watch showed noon, the day appeared to be early evening. The sky looked dirty as clouds moved lethargically across the pewter slate. The air tasted of dirt. She pulled the collar of her shirt over her nose and hunched against the biting wind.
Instantly her eyes were drawn to where her mother’s body once lay. Dirt covered her, leaving nothing but an innocent looking mound. Chalice glanced around the yard then ran to the woods in the back of the house. She choked back a sob at the sight of the old station wagon that had been her mother’s pride and joy. Thank you, God. This would become their new home for awhile.
Besides some new scratches down the wood side panels, it appeared to be intact. Mom had filled the tank the morning of the disaster and bought new tires. Chalice drove it back to the house, then climbed out and kept guard.
“Y’all, start loading the car.” Chalice stood back, senses alert, ready to defend what was left of her family.
She shivered as her siblings piled their precious belongings in the car. What little they’d left in the cellar could benefit anyone who came searching, and good luck to them. They weren’t leaving much, just a few odds and ends that wouldn’t fit in the car. She ushered the kids, and Lady, into the car then took one last look at the place she’d spent her entire sixteen years. She sniffed back the tears, refusing to cry anymore. As the new head of the family, she needed to be strong.
Removing one of the charms from the necklace she wore, the one of a rose, she dropped it on her mother’s impromptu grave. Thank you for your sacrifice, Mom. Thank you for all you did. I miss you. Chalice squared her shoulders, marched to the car, and then slid behind the wheel without another glance.
They’d head west as far as the roads would take them. When they ran out of gas, they’d walk as long as the three of them had the strength.
Pulling out of the drive, she glanced one last time through her rearview mirror. A burned body shuffled from the house, arms outstretched, and tried to follow. Chalice blinked. Mom?
She shook her head. No, she’d watched her die. Burn. That image would haunt her for the rest of her life. She carried the marks on her arm to prove it.
Chapter 4
Chalice idled the Rambler station wagon in front of the local Baptist church. Six men surrounded a man kneeling on the ground. One of them pulled back his leg and kicked, sending the one on the ground backward. Blood spurted from his nose.
“That’s Pastor Morgan,” Mychal stated. “We have to help him.”
Hanna popped up from the backseat. “Why are they beating him?”
“I don’t know.” Chalice reached for the rifle. “Stay in the car. If something happens, drive away. Mychal, cover me.”
Mychal’s eyes widened as he grabbed the second rifle from the back seat. “I don’t know how to drive.”
“You’ll figure it out.” Chalice’s mouth filled with cotton. What was she doing? It’d be best to leave the crowd to their business. But she couldn’t. Not when a nice man lay at risk. She shoved open the car door and slid out. Two more men added kicks and punches to the melee. Someone in the building behind them screamed.
She raised the gun toward heaven and pulled the trigger. Half a dozen faces turned to face her. “Leave him alone or I’ll shoot the nearest one of you.” She aimed for the man who’d kicked first.
“What’s it to you?” The man puffed out his chest. “This preacher promised us everything would be all right. Now, we’re low on food. We’ve lost family, yet his are safe in the walls of the church. Look around. We aren’t alright. The sun ain’t come out in a month. Crops are wasted, fish are belly up in the creeks, and dead people are walking around eating those of us still alive. We’re living in hell, missy, and the pastor lied about it all.”
Dead people? She fought to steady her trembling arms. She couldn’t let them think her weak or they’d overpower her and steal her weapon. “Seeing how I’m armed and you’re not, I could make the next choice. I’ll only say it one more time. Move out.”
The man eyed her car. “I hope you’re going a long way, sweetie. Because that kind of attitude will get you hurt.”
“No more than you beating on a man who had no say in what happened.” Chalice lifted her chin. “He’ll struggle right along with the rest of us.”
The crowd surged closer. Chalice aimed the gun at the man’s feet and fired. Dirt the color of cigarette ashes covered his gym shoes.
He jumped back with a yelp, then waved his arms. “Okay, folks. Let’s go home. There’s nothing here, and these shots will draw the attention of every person affected by the plague.”
Pastor Morgan struggled to his feet and wiped the back of his hand across his bloody lip. A purple knot grew above his right eye. “Thank you. Where you headed?”
“West.”
He glanced at the church. “You’re welcome to stay here with my family.” A blond woman and three small children peered through the open door. “The highways are crawling with those poor unfortunate souls.”
Chalice shook her head. “Thanks, but we’re looking for a kinder place.” There had to be somewhere they wouldn’t have to look over their shoulders at every turn. A place where she wouldn’t have to aim her gun at every person she met.
“Let me send you on your way with something to show my gratitude.” Holding an arm close to his rib cage, he shuffled into the building and emerged with a jug of juice and a box of crackers. “It isn’t much. It in no way repays your kindness, but I’m appreciative for your help.”
“You need to find yourself a gun, pastor.” Chalice accepted the gift.
“I’m a man of peace.”
“Doesn’t seem like many of the others are. Not anymore. I’ve got to ask though, what were those men talking about?”
The pastor shuddered. “The dead aren’t staying dead. It’s like they’re zombies or something.”
Nausea rose in her stomach. “There’s no such thing.”
“There is now. Something is affecting these people.” He pointed a finger at her. “Remember everything you’ve ever seen in a zombie movie. It’s all true now. Make sure you act accordingly.”
“Thanks. Good luck.” She nodded and hurried back to the car and scooted behind the wheel.
“That was awesome.” Mychal plopped against the backrest of his seat. “Scary, but awesome.”
Chalice slammed her door and took a deep shuddering breath. “I was frightened out of my mind.” She handed the food and drink back to Hanna. “But if helping others keeps giving us supplies, it might be worth stopping for.” How could she tell her brother people were talking about zombies? The whole idea was stupid. But what if, on a small chance, it was true? By not telling them, they could be surprised and end up dead.
She put her arm across the back of the seat. “Um, you know that show you watch every Halloween about zombies?”
“Yeah.”
“Well, it seems to be coming true.” As she steered back to the main road, she kept her eyes peeled for shuffling, moaning, people. She lived in a nightmare. Maybe she’d hit her head and was in a coma. That had to be it. Zombies. Weren’t. Real.
Five miles farther, Chalice stopped at the on-ramp to the interstate. Bumper-to-bumper vehicles sat empty and clogged the way. Some were only burned out shells. Others abandoned. Most looked as if they’d been in a slaughter house. Blood smeared the windows and trailed onto the pavement. The rank smell of death filled the air.
“I need the map.” Chalice rolled up her window.
Her brother dug it out of the glove compartment and spread it across the dash.
Chalice thought about taking another, less traveled highway, but knew she’d find the same congestion. They’d have to take the back roads. She eyed the line of cars ahead of them. Maybe a four-wheel drive, or that motor home next to the gas truck. But she hated leaving their mother’s car behind, and the thought of transferring all the supplies left her tired before they’d even started.
Two men rummaged through the debris, moving from one automobile to the next. They didn’t seem interested in confiscating a ride, just scavenging whatever they could find.
Hanna leaned over the seat. “I don’t want to go out there.”
Chalice nodded. “Neither do I, but that motor home has a water hose from it to the gas truck. My guess is it’s full of gas and would make a better place to live than the Rambler. As much as I hate leaving Mom’s car behind, I think that’s the best bet.”
“And it’s big enough to push other cars out of the way,” Mychal said. “That’s a good idea.”
A shot rang out, and they ducked. Chalice peeked over the steering wheel to where the two men still ran in and out of cars. Then, three more people, a man and a woman appeared down the road and the scavengers fired more shots.
The newcomers were covered with blood and growling. The woman dragged her leg, one of her arms missing. The men stumbled around the debris in the road instead of climbing over.
“Are those zombies?” Chalice peered over the steering wheel.
“Oh, crap.” Mychal rolled up his window. “Lay low and be quiet. Don’t let them smell you.”
“Seriously?” She rolled up her window while Hanna took care of the back ones. “Hanna, keep Lady quiet. Tie something around her mouth so she can’t bark and then get on the floor.”
This couldn’t be happening. Completely impossible. Zombies weren’t real. She wiggled her way under the steering wheel. Her heart beat so loud she swore they’d be able to hear it.
An odd skritching sound passed on both sides of the car. Chalice clamped a hand over her mouth, sure they could hear her breathing, smell her sweat.
An hour passed before she felt safe to venture from the station wagon. She wriggled back to her seat and studied the area around them. Quiet. Not even a sign from the looters.
“If you run across one, you have to shoot it in the head or ram something into their skull. You have to kill the brain,” Mychal told her. “Nothing else works.”
“How do you know all this?”
“Movies.”
“Gross.” She motioned for her brother and sister to stay in the car, then kept low as she made her way to the motor home, her rifle clutched in her hand. She’d watched a zombie movie once and said she never would again. Now, she lived one. Too weird.
The back door hung open. One glance told her someone had cleaned out anything of value inside. That was fine. All she cared about was the roof over their heads and gas in the tank. Until she stepped inside and saw the bodies.
An elderly couple sat slumped at the table, a bullet hole in the center of each of their foreheads. Clearly someone shot them then stole their supplies. At least they weren’t one of those things. She swallowed down the acid in her throat. Now, she needed to dispose of the bodies.
She slung her rifle strap across her shoulders and grabbed the woman beneath the arms. So that’s where the term dead weight came from. She grunted and dragged the woman outside and into the culvert, then went back for the man.
When she’d finished, she stood and stared at their lifeless bodies in the ashy dirt and wished she could spare the time to bury them properly. Instead, she opted for a short prayer, then motioned for her siblings to start transferring things from the Rambler to the motor home.
She climbed to the top of their new home and kept watch, praying they could save everything before more zombies showed up. Even the word sounded ridiculous. If she hadn’t seen them with her own eyes, she never would have believed it. She still didn’t. Zombies weren’t real!
###
Colton took a swig from his water bottle, then squirted the rest into Buddy’s mouth, grateful for the hundredth time that day he’d brought the dog with him. A four-legged companion was better than no companion at all. Besides, he was a great deterrent when people got too close to the Suburban. His massive head looked like he could take off somebody’s face.
Colton scratched behind the dog’s ears. “Nobody needs to know you’re just a big old teddy bear.”
He transferred his attention back to the line at the gas pump. Amazing that the owner could keep control of the “customers”. Money wouldn’t be any good for a long time in this new world, if ever. The man appeared to be bartering gasoline for food. Colton hoped he had something the man would want as he watched one car be denied for lack of payment.
Colton watched in his rearview mirror as a rusty Chevy roared up behind him. He edged the Suburban closer to the pump. No way was the guy getting in front of him. The Chevy growled and touched his bumper. Colton lifted the rifle from the passenger seat and slowly
slid it to the dashboard. In plain sight of any fool who wanted to force the issue.
Finally, he pulled up to a pump. The owner carried a rifle across his back and a pistol in a holster.
Colton nodded and noted the name on the man’s uniform. “So, how much for the gas, Ed?”
“What do you have?” Ed narrowed his eyes.
“What do you need?”
“Look kid, there’s a line a mile long behind you. I’m going to run out of gas way before I run out of customers. I’m not in the mood for games. Besides, someone said there was a herd of zombies headed this way, and I aim to be long gone.”
Okay, now things were getting really strange. Zombies. What would they think of next? “Will five packs of cigarettes fill up my tank?”
The man grinned. “That’ll fill up your tank and a five gallon container.”
Colton fished the cigs from behind the seat while the man siphoned gas to fill the Suburban’s tank. Yep, the case of cigarettes he’d filched would be like cash money. Where could he get more? Maybe some booze.
He rested his arm on the open window. “Do you know whether the roads are clear from here to the Oklahoma border?”
“I wouldn’t take Interstate 40 if I was you. Heard tell it’s clogged with abandoned cars and those … things.”
Yeah, but Colton drove a vehicle with a reinforced front bumper. He could plow his way through and avoid crowds. “What are you talking about? What things?”
“Have you been hiding in a cave for the last month?” The attendant shook his head. “The meteor shower set off a plague of some sort. There’s thousands of walking dead feeding off the living. If I were you, I’d get to the least populated area you can and keep low.”
“Are you serious?” Colton peered at the man’s eyes. “Are you high on something?”
Cars honked down the line, drawing his attention. A large crowd of people shuffled toward them. One man stood through the sunroof of his car and started shooting a nine millimeter. The people kept coming. What kind of world had Colton ventured back into?
The Zombie Awakening (Complete 6 Volume Series, plus prologue) Page 4
