The Zombie Awakening (Complete 6 Volume Series, plus prologue)

by Melton, Cynthia

  “That’s a bit dangerous right now, what with all the dead walking around.”

  “Fine, but don’t come any closer.” They needed to study the map and find a less traveled route. No way did she want to become the leader of a convoy. Sooner or later, someone following them would have evil intentions and would leave them on the side of the road as zombie food.

  She motioned her head toward the motor home. “Let’s grab something to eat and hit the road.”

  “Do you mind me driving?” Colton asked.

  “Not at all.” She could curl up on one of the bunks and catch up on some much needed sleep. “It’s hard to drive this thing. You can do it all the time if you want.” With one last glance at the bikers, she climbed the steps into the Winnebago.

  One pop tart and a small Dixie cup of apple juice sat in front of each child. Hanna handed Chalice the same. She sighed, wishing for her mother’s buttermilk pancakes and maple syrup.

  ###

  After four hours of driving, Colton’s neck and shoulder muscles screamed for release. He took one hand off the wheel, flexed his fingers, then did the same with the other. How had Chalice kept it up for an entire day?

  She climbed into the passenger seat. “Thanks for the rest.”

  “You’re a tough girl, Chalice Hart.”

  She flipped her hair a shade lighter than his own out of her face and gazed at him with the eyes the color the sky used to be. “How so?”

  “I’m exhausted after driving this monstrosity for only half a day.”

  She shrugged and took a swig from a water bottle she pulled from the pouch in her hoodie. “You do whatever it takes. Want me to drive for a while?”

  As if his pride could take that jab. “No. But a drink of that water would be wonderful.”

  “I’ll get you your own. We’re allowed one water bottle a day per person, including the dogs.” She climbed back over the seat.

  It all sounded good to him, although he hadn’t been a fan of the breakfast. A fistful of beef jerky would’ve tasted better, but he wasn’t going to complain. Not while sitting in a plush seat in a vehicle the size of one of the trailers he’d lived in a few years ago.

  Chalice returned with his water and sat cross-legged in the seat beside him. She removed the cap and handed him the bottle. “Have you noticed how the few people we run across move out of our way when they get a glimpse of the motorcycle gang behind us? And why haven’t we run across any more zombies? Do you think they’ve all passed us?”

  “I think the zombies are attracted to the cities for the obvious reasons. According to the movies, they’re also attracted to noise. But who knows? I doubt anyone expected anything like this to happen.” Funny how all they had as research was fiction novels.

  He took two sips of his drink and handed it back to her. “Thanks.” He glanced at the gas gauge. “We need to stop at the next station. Pray they have fuel.”

  Fifteen minutes later, they pulled into a self-serve station and were greeted by two men with guns. Colton stared at them through the large windshield then grinned when the motorcycle gang flanked him on each side. “Stay here.” He grabbed his rifle and climbed from the Winnebago.

  Chalice joined him, also carrying her weapon. “The bigger the show of force, the better. Don’t tell me to stand down just because I’m a girl.”

  Colton shook his head then stepped in front of the motor home. The leather jacket wearing cyclists pulled assorted hand guns from their saddle bags and aimed them at the two men beside the gas pumps.

  “All we want is gas,” Colton said.

  One of them puffed out their chest. “You and every other loser that comes through here. Well, we’ve taken over this station and ain’t sharing. Those hogs y’all ride are going to call every zombie for a mile around.”

  “I’ll give you a carton of cigarettes in order to fill up the motor home and the bikes.”

  The man laughed. “Got plenty of cigs in the store here. How about you leave that pretty little thing standing next to you, and we’ll call it even.” The man stepped back as the motorcyclists joined Colton and Chalice.

  “You leave these kids alone. Either give us the gas, or we’ll take it. If you want blood shed, I promise yours will be the first spilled. Maybe we’ll just shoot you in the leg and leave you for the Shamblers who have a taste for flesh.” The gang leader pulled back the hammer of his Magnum and aimed the gun at the man’s head. “We offered to pay and you refused. Your loss. Give us what we want, and we’ll move on.”

  Sweat beaded on Colton’s brow despite the chill in the air. The last thing he wanted was a gunfight, especially with a bunch of kids watching through the window. Chalice cocked her gun and stepped beside Leather Jacket. Within seconds, the others joined too.

  The two men lowered their guns and stepped back. “If we let everyone just take the gas, we won’t survive.”

  “We’ll give you two boxes of granola bars.” Chalice offered. “That’s the best we can do.”

  “We’ve got that stuff inside.”

  “Well, what do you need?” Colton took a deep breath. He should’ve taken charge, not Chalice. He couldn’t have a girl in control whether it was her vehicle he traveled in or not.

  “Right now we don’t need anything. Months down the road will be a different story.”

  “Months down the road, and it’s going to be different for everybody. Do the right thing and let us have the gas. We’re willing to barter or we can take by force. Your choice.” Colton slung his gun strap around his shoulders and held out his hands. “Come on before those things come.”

  The man sighed. “Fine. But don’t let the word get out that we buckled just because someone pulled a gun on us.”

  He and his partner stepped aside while Colton filled the tank and the bikers pulled up to the other pumps. How long would the country’s gas last? Once the pumps were empty, where could they go to get more? They’d need another mode of transportation. His gaze fell on his bicycle strapped to the top of the Winnebago. Where could he get more of those? The stores were most likely looted by now, and a bike wouldn’t do much good against a horde of zombies.

  The weight of responsibility left him discouraged. They could live in the motor home indefinitely but food and water would run out. They needed a plan. They couldn’t head west aimlessly and hope to find something better than what they had. He glanced at the soot-colored sky.

  Someday the sun would shine again. They needed to be ready. He looked to the station owner. “Hey, is there a department store around here? A Wal-Mart or something?”

  “Wal-Mart’s been wiped out by fire and looters. Your best bet might be the country store down by the lake. Take your next right and drive about five miles down the dirt road. Highway’s pretty clear from here on out. Don’t get your hopes up too high though, but if there’s anything left, Ma and Pa Hastings will barter with you.”

  “Thanks.” Obviously the gas-station guy could learn a lesson or two from Ma and Pa Hastings as far as courtesy went. Colton closed the gas cap on the Winnebago. For another couple of days, they had fuel. They’d stop at every station along the way and top off the tank until there was no more to be had or the pumps stopped working.

  Then, they’d figure out what to do next.

  Chapter 7

  Chalice was more than happy to let Colton take the wheel again. Driving the Winnebago stressed her muscles almost to the point she felt she couldn’t return from the pain. She curled up in the passenger seat and let him steer them from the gas station. She could take some Tylenol, but wanted to save what medication they had for a time when they really needed it. Oh, what she wouldn’t give for a hot bath.

  The motorcycle gang tooted their horns and sped past. She’d miss the added sense of security their presence gave her, but agreed that larger crowds were more detectable and they could move faster on the bikes.

  “So, what’s your story, Colton?”

  He glance at her from the corner of his eyes. “S
ame as yours, I suppose. Fire fell from the sky, I fled, here I am.”

  “What about your family?”

  “What about your family?”

  She folded her arms around her middle. “I watched my mother die when a meteor set her on fire.” She blinked against the ever present threat of tears.

  “I’m sorry.” He took a deep breath and expelled it hard enough to flutter his bangs. “I lived with foster parents. I’m not sure what happened to them. I’d been watching the meteor for months through my telescope and figured they couldn’t blow it up enough to prevent damage to us, so I hid supplies in a cave and spent the last month there. The town I lived in pretty much burned to the ground.”

  “My mom stocked our root cellar with enough supplies to last us six months.” Chalice glanced out the side window. “We’ve been frugal so it should last longer than that.” She prayed they wouldn’t have to test the limit of their food and water. Surely they’d find a place where damage was minimal and life continued with its wonderful day-to-day routine.

  “It won’t last as long if you continue picking up strays.”

  “You brought in more food than one person needs. Besides, I couldn’t live with myself if I didn’t help someone who would starve without my help, and I can’t leave anyone out there to be chewed on.” She studied his profile. The strong chin. The long lashes. A good looking boy that was almost too pretty, but his toughness showed a different side of a handsome boy. She smiled. With his six foot football build, she doubted anyone ever told him how good looking he was.

  He stared at her and frowned. “What?”

  She shook her head and transferred her attention out the window. “Nothing. I’d just like to get to know you since we’ll be spending a lot of time together in this boat.”

  “Then there’s plenty of time.” He turned the wheel to take them down a dirt road. “There’s supposed to be a store down here. Probably a tackle store, but they might have some things we can use.”

  “Are you planning on going fishing?”

  “No, but the sky will clear someday. We need things for when it does. Seeds, a shovel. Stuff like that.”

  “So, you’re an optimist.”

  “Aren’t you? Zombies have to die sometime, right? Their bodies deteriorate to the point they can no longer hunt for food. Then, the surviving people kill them off and start all over.”

  “Maybe. It’s a good theory anyway.” Maybe her optimism died when men tried to break into their shelter. Or maybe it was witnessing the brutal beating of the pastor. Most likely it was due to the dejected look on the faces of people she passed on the road and the half-eaten dead that roamed the ditches.

  Junior and Sissy rarely said more than a word or two, even when asked a question. What had they endured in the last month? Or Colton? He was as close-mouthed as a child at the dentist.

  ###

  Colton stopped the motor home in front of the tackle shop and stared at the door hanging off the hinge. Chances are the store was cleared out, the owners moved on, and no zombies lingered. On the other hand, one of the face eating cannibals could be lying in wait for fresh blood.

  “Are we going in?” Chalice leaned against his seat.

  “I don’t know. It looks deserted.”

  “We should check it out. I’ll leave Mychal to watch the younger ones. If they keep the motor home locked and stay quiet, they should be okay.”

  “Maybe.” Colton cut the ignition. There might be stuff they needed in there. They couldn’t pass up any opportunity to forage for supplies. “We’ll have to make it fast.”

  Chalice stood in front of Mychal and the others. “We need all of you to stay here and be quiet. There’s ammo in the gun, but don’t use it unless you have to. Colton and I will be back as soon as we can.” She gripped her brother’s shoulders. “If we don’t come back within thirty minutes, wait until those things are gone, then take the children out of here. Find other survivors.”

  “You’ll be back.” Mychal’s voice quivered.

  “I will.” Chalice grabbed her rifle.

  Colton waited at the door and opened it just far enough to peer out. The world was silent. No planes, no cars, no birds. As if evil hovered in the grey sky and smothered everything good. “It’s clear.” He stepped out and held the door for Chalice. Weapons held at the ready, they approached the store.

  With only two of them, Colton felt vulnerable. Even Mychal would have made him feel more secure and the boy was only fifteen. They made their way to the porch of the store and stopped again to listen. Nothing other than the wind through the trees.

  “Let’s make this fast. Anything we can use for the future, anything for weapons, and food stuffs, warm clothing, any—”

  “I get it.” Chalice slung her rifle strap over her shoulder. “My mother was a prepper, and my brother is a self-proclaimed expert on zombies. I probably know more about survival than you do.”

  “Point taken.” He led the way inside. The shelves were full. Some of the stock lay on the floor, but for the most part, it didn’t look as if anyone had been there in quite awhile. Where were the owners? Nobody in their right mind would leave all these things behind.

  He grabbed an empty box and started tossing in ammo, fishing gear, propane canisters, two axes, a couple of spears and a whole rack of seed packets.

  Chalice loaded another box with canned goods and toilet paper. He supposed that was a necessity, especially if you were a girl. There were a couple of Mylar blankets, batteries… He froze at a shuffling sound from behind the store. Grabbing his box, he backed up. “Chalice…”

  “I hear it.” She slung her rifle back around.

  “No.” Colton set his box on the counter and pulled out an ax. “Guns are too noisy.”

  “No, I can’t.” She shoved it back, her eyes too wide for her face. “I’d have to get too close.”

  “You have, too. We’re a team. I can’t do this alone.”

  “I can’t kill anyone.” Tears ran down her face.

  “These aren’t people.” A door creaked open, banging by the wind. Colton relaxed. Nothing but…

  Chalice screamed.

  He whirled.

  A moaning apparition of horror rushed at him, teeth gnashing, yellowed eyes wide. A tattered shirt hung over exposed ribs. A visible bite wound oozed on the man’s hip.

  Colton raised his arms and let the axe fly. It buried into the zombie’s head, splashing brain matter and thick black blood onto the wall.

  Colton turned and vomited over the counter.

  “Was that Mr. Hastings?” Chalice lowered her weapon. “Where’s—” She gasped and dashed past him. He turned as she buried her axe in the zombie’s head.

  The woman slumped over a rack of magazines. Colton wiped his mouth and retrieved the axes, wiping them clean on the dead woman’s skirt. “I guess we know why the store hasn’t been scavenged yet. Thanks for saving me. She would have bit me for sure.”

  “I guess I can kill when the need arises.” Chalice sagged against the counter. She pointed over his shoulder again and wiped her tears on her shirt sleeve. “Mychal’s always wanted a bow and arrow, and it’s a quiet way of defending ourselves.”

  Colton pulled down the two crossbows, and cleaned the store out of arrows. Only twenty, but maybe they’d find more somewhere down the road. His stomach still protested against the violence and disgust as they hefted their boxes and hurried back to the others.

  He thought about taking all the food, but couldn’t. They were getting cramped in the motor home as it was and there might be other survivors coming later. They’d be hungry, too.

  ###

  Mychal was thrilled with his bow. Chalice stored the axes around the trailer, hoping the places she chose would make the weapons within easy reach if they needed them. After witnessing the undead first hand, she feared for the condition of the trailer. Even a broken window could mean death for those inside. The way she used it to clear deserted vehicles might not be the wisest choice
.

  If a noise or a smell got out, the zombies would come. Not in one or two, but in hundreds. Her group needed to find other survivors, and fast. People with weapons. People who knew how to fight.

  She plopped at the small dinette table in the camper while Colton maneuvered the vehicle down the road. Just over a month ago, her mother had shoved her down the cellar steps to save her life. Now, Chalice and her siblings were on the run from a nightmare, and they had extra children along. Chalice wasn’t an adult. She was a teenager, and she wanted to have the life of one. It wasn’t fair.

  She folded her arms and rested her head. Exhaustion spread through her like a fog. She was tired, that was all. If she got some sleep, she’d feel better. Maybe she could forget the sight of the axe sticking out of a woman’s head. The thick dark blood. The stench of rot and death. The pain that went up her arm from the hardness of the woman’s skull.

  No wonder Colton threw up. Walking dead or not, the woman had once been breathing, maybe somebody’s mother.

  The plague had to have started with someone. If it was airborne then wouldn’t everyone have it? Or did it infect the people close to whatever facility had been destroyed and those people bit others? None of it made any sense.

  “Did your mom get eaten?” Junior dropped onto the seat across from her.

  Surprised at his finally speaking to her, Chalice stared at him for a moment before saying anything. His almost black eyes and coffee-colored skin contrasted with the retro pumpkin color of the seat. He was a cute kid with bright eyes and teeth that shown against his dark skin. Too bad he couldn’t enjoy being a kid.

  Chalice shook her head. “No, she got hit with a meteor. There weren’t any zombies yet.” She didn’t think, anyway. She pushed aside the image of a charred woman coming out of her house. “What about yours?”

  Tears filled his eyes. “We lived down by the river ‘cause Daddy thought we’d be safe there. Away from people. We thought zombies were only in the movies and that the sickness the government talked about was not as bad as they said it would be.” He sniffed and wiped his nose on his sleeve. “They came while we was fishing. One bit Mama’s face, then Daddy threw me and Sissy in the river before he picked up a big stick. Good thing we could swim, huh?”