State of (Book 1): State of Decay

by Martinez, P. S.

  I’d seen the dead before, the ones that we drove by from the safety of our Jeep, the one that killed my dad, and the little girl who had attacked me that just yesterday, but nothing prepared me for the sight of so many corpses walking down the street in the middle of broad daylight.

  I squeezed myself tightly against the brick wall behind me, trying to make myself as small as possible. I held my breath and cursed my heart for pounding so loudly in my chest. I was sure it would draw their attention to me.

  A dozen or more of them shuffled past the front of the store moaning and making gurgling noises that had the hairs on the back of my neck standing on end.

  Even more disturbing was the normalcy of their appearance.

  Zombie movies featured the undead wearing clothing that was shredded and either gray, tan, or some varying shade of dirt. The undead were dirty, their clothing was torn in some places, yet underneath the bloodstains and the gore was the clothing of your everyday, average American—bright and cheery clothing made macabre by the things that wore them and the current state of Light Oak.

  The colors were vivid under the heavy overcast sky, giving them a creepy It freak show feel. Of course, jaws dangling from faces, bones left where hands used to be, and eyes completely gouged out didn’t help matters.

  A woman who struggled to move along with the others was wearing a bright purple tank top and a jean skirt, a man wearing khakis and a light blue button up shirt walked close to her, and the children—dear God, the children—they were the worst. Some wore pajamas with happy cartoon characters depicted on them, but Elmo didn’t look quite as endearing when he was covered in leftover bits of human flesh from the zombie kid’s most recent meal.

  I shuddered and shrunk further into my hiding spot.

  After the last zombie had gone by and several minutes had passed, I stepped closer to the front of the building to see what had become of the main street leading into and out of town.

  The word apocalypse came to mind immediately, though even that word was too tame of a description for what I saw.

  Smoke rose from a pile of bodies close by, cars and debris lined the streets, decomposing bodies, stripped of almost everything except the bones, lay scattered about. Splashes of dark reddish-brown muck and blood splattered the street, the sidewalk, cars, storefronts, and to top it all off—walking corpses were everywhere.

  There was no way any living could be left in the town. It had been infested with the undead.

  I found myself in a conundrum.

  I was in the middle of town with zombies crawling all over the place. I didn’t know which way to turn. I knew at least a dozen zombies had gone back the way I had just come from and I knew if I got cornered by that many of them, I’d be a goner. I didn’t know what move to make next.

  I glanced around the streets at the cars that littered the roads. Most of them probably had a full tank of gas and keys left inside. People were caught off guard, they’d had no idea what to expect. They weren’t even warned. The only problem was the zombies. It would be impossible for me to get to a car without being seen.

  Not only that, but I might choose a car that happened to not have keys in the ignition and I had no idea how to hotwire a car. I’d be trapped in a car with zombies gnashing their teeth to get to me. I crouched down and tried to formulate a plan.

  I happened to glance up and catch a reflection of myself in the glass of a window across the street. I could barely make out my own shape. I also happened to notice the reflection of the Starbucks I was hiding next to, and it had its entire front window busted out.

  It was then that an insane, makeshift plan tickled the back of my mind. With my mind made up, I got up and edged around the building just enough to see if I had a chance. I glanced up and down the road and counted over fifty lumbering dead before I gave up counting and rounded it up to seventy-five to be safe.

  I calculated everything I had on me and knew I’d be pushing my luck to carry out my idea and I knew that if I survived, I’d have to catch quite a few lucky breaks. Still, I decided it was my best option.

  When I was fairly certain most of the zombies were unaware of my presence, I swallowed the huge lump of fear threatening to choke me and ran around the building out into the open and jumped into the busted-out window of the Starbucks. My boots crunched the broken glass loudly, and I could swear the sound echoed into the farthest reaches of outer space.

  I immediately flattened myself against the inner wall and held my breath. My heart was pounding so hard, I could feel the vein in my temple throbbing wildly. A minute passed and then several, before I exhaled a relieved breath. Looked like I’d live to see my plan through. Oh joy.

  I glanced around the interior of the store and felt a tinge of remorse for what I was about to do. I remembered when my dad and I had just moved into this town a few weeks back. The Starbucks was brand spanking new and it was a source of pride for the locals; they had recently opened their first Starbucks in one of the renovated storefront spaces, a true testament to the fact that the town was growing.

  The building was ancient just like the town and I had loved the old world feel of it the second we stepped inside. My dad had done some work on his laptop that day while he drank a latte with a double shot of espresso and I had plugged in my iPod and sat near him and people watched through the large glass window up front. I sipped my iced caramel coffee. It had been a good day.

  Fortunately for me, I also had paid attention to the tour they had given us and knew that this particular store had a second story storage attic and had a place with a ladder you could climb and exit out to the roof. I was banking on the fact that if the Starbucks had that feature, maybe several of the other old storefronts would as well.

  I moved slowly along the edge of the store until I reached the front counter, then I slid my backpack off and set it on the counter as quietly as possible. I pulled out the bottle of lighter fluid I’d brought with me and grimaced when I realized how badly this whole thing could go, but there was no backing out now.

  I opened the lighter fluid and started soaking the walls and tables and floors thoroughly, making sure I sprayed a line of the fluid out onto the sidewalk in front of the store too. I took a wad of paper towels from a dispenser on the floor and twisted them tightly into a nice, thick rope then used the remaining lighter fluid to soak the rope.

  I was pulling out my boxes of ammo when I realized how badly I had to go to the bathroom. Even during a zombie outbreak, when you had to go, you had to go.

  I shoved all my stuff back into my bag and carefully made my way back into the two-stall women’s bathroom in the store. The bathroom looked eerily normal. It was still spotless and there was absolutely none of the carnage that waited right outside the doors. It was a little potty room utopia. I hurried up and did my business, afraid to dawdle too long and make some dire mistake. I grabbed two rolls of toilet paper and stuffed them into my bag. I was pretty sure I’d be needing them once I made back to my new home in the woods.

  I relaxed a bit after making it into town safely and let down my guard once I’d infiltrated the freaking Starbucks successfully. I’d just come out of the bathroom, feeling sorry that I couldn’t simply live in the immaculate bathroom forever, when I headed around the counter to go into the back room.

  The zombie had probably been there the whole time and I’d never noticed him. As I pushed through the swinging door to go into the back room the zombie lunged for me. I didn’t have time to scream, I didn’t have time to dodge the attack, yet somehow I managed to lift the backpack I was carrying in my arms just enough that when the zombie tried to sink his teeth into my chest, he got a mouthful of my canvas backpack instead.

  The back of my head ricocheted off of the swinging door as the zombie knocked me back and landed on top of me. His weight slammed the breath out of my lungs and when I tried to suck in some much-needed air, I got the undiluted version of zombie B.O.

  I swung out wildly, trying to knock the hundred
-and-fifty-pound undead teenager off of me, to get free of the dead body that pinned me down. A chunk of his curly, read hair went flying, a good portion of his scalp still attached. The zombie wasn’t going to give up easily though, he was like a mindless animal, aware his next meal had just walked right into his lair.

  I grabbed my backpack with my right arm and shoved with all my might, kicking up with my feet at the same time to try and dislodge the putrid scented zombie from my body. The backpack hit the zombie directly in his freckled face and I heard a bone crack in his rather large, hooked nose.

  Momentarily stunned, he loosened his grip on me and I took advantage by kicking out once again and heaving my body upward as hard as possible.

  The zombie rolled off of me and I crawled frantically toward the recon knife that I’d dropped during the chaos, closed my fist around it, and turned, still on my knees. Just then the zombie lunged off the ground toward me again.

  Out of reflex, I thrust my knife out and caught the animated corpse right in the larynx. Unfortunately, that didn’t kill or stop him. I pulled my knife out with my right hand and swung my backpack with my left, knocking the zombie over again.

  He rolled over, immediately coming at me wildly, his movements even more frantic. This time when I thrust my knife, it went right into his left eye and poked out of the back of his skull.

  The zombie stilled, blood and other rank fluids oozing out of his mouth, neck, and eye. As soon as I yanked my knife free the second time and the zombie fell with a splat into its own juices.

  I vomited and dry heaved until my stomach was completely empty.

  I wiped my mouth off and got up on shaky legs, resting my forehead on a large wall of boxes for a moment while I got my breathing back under control. When I stepped back again, I blinked in surprise.

  What were the odds?

  There were boxes and boxes of Starbucks VIA Ready Brew stacked on top of each other, and right in front of my face was the caramel flavored ones. Those were my favorites.

  I snatched a box off of the shelf and used my smaller knife to tear open the box. I grabbed a fifty-count bag out and shoved it into my pack. I also snagged a bag of the Strawberry lemonade refreshers.

  I figured I deserved it, especially since the zombie that had nearly taken me out was still wearing a Starbucks employee apron.

  I’m pretty sure I could have sued under normal circumstances.

  A small, hysterical laugh burst through my lips. No time to crack up now, I needed to get a move on. I didn’t want to get stuck in town when the sun went down. I shivered and closed up my bag, heading to the back of the store, this time keeping an eye out for any more zombified baristas.

  There was an old set of stairs in the very back of the store with a sign that read, “Employees Only”.

  Inside that room I found a trap door with stairs leading up to the roof. Once on the top, I got on my hands and knees and slowly made my way to the edge of the roof that overlooked the center of town. From my vantage point, I could see that there were closer to a hundred zombies— no telling how many were inside buildings or outside of my view.

  I set my bag down and pulled out the boxes of ammo. I had around a hundred rounds for my M4 rifle, and a lot less for my handgun. I took out my handgun and added three more bullets to the chamber—I’d forgotten all about reloading it after I’d used it that first day, which could have gotten me killed—then loaded the M4. When I was ready, I lay down on the roof on my stomach, propped the rifle up, and peered through the scope.

  I lined my shot up with the head of a zombie directly in the center of town, sucked in a breath, and pulled the trigger.

  The shot hit him in the shoulder and he barely flinched from the impact. It did begin stirring trouble down below. The zombies all took notice and they all started to twitch and lurch a little bit more.

  I lined the shot up again and sucked in a breath, and just before I pulled the trigger, I heard the gentle voice my dad used to use when we went target practicing together.

  “Don’t suck in your breath, Mel. Relax and breathe in slowly. Then, as you exhale, release the bullet with your trigger finger. Let it be a part of you, an extension of you and your actions and you won’t miss.”

  It was my Dad’s voice.

  I could almost feel his hand on my shoulder. When I pulled the trigger the second time, my bullet struck true and the zombie dropped. So did the next twenty.

  I’d already blasted through four twenty-round magazines before I realized how many more zombies had shown up on the streets in front of me when they’d heard all the commotion. I picked up my last magazine and loaded the M4, taking a glance around at my handiwork.

  The streets were literally covered in bodies—finally, truly dead. Some had fallen on top of each other, creating piles of the undead. For every ten I had taken out, two more had walked out into the open, which meant I had over forty zombies—that I could see—and only twenty bullets left. I needed to make each one count and I still didn’t like the odds.

  When the final body dropped to the ground, I counted exactly twenty-three zombies left. Time for part two of my plan. I crawled back over to the roof opening that led back into the store and made my way back down to the interior of the store.

  I headed straight for the front store window, trying not to think too much about what I was about to do. I stepped halfway out of the storefront window and checked out the street. The closest zombie was several stores down and the furthest was quite a bit farther. I wasn’t sure how fast a zombie could move or run, so my next move was foolish at best.

  I pulled the small hunting knife out of my pocket and slid it across my left palm, hissing as the stinging brought tears to my eyes. I jumped out of the store window and stood directly in the middle of the street and squeezed my hand into a tight fist, causing my blood to drip onto the asphalt.

  “Hey, you bunch of ugly fuckers!” I yelled. The world’s best movie director couldn’t have choreographed the scene any better. The zombies turned as one, their heads all swiveled in my direction like they had been attached together by an invisible force, their mouths yawning open, drool, blood, and chunky bits dangling from the lower half of their faces.

  The hairs on my arms stood on end.

  “Yeah, you! Come get some, bitches!” I shouted, backing up.

  The zombies had already begun to shamble-run towards me. The promise of fresh meat and blood was too strong an enticement to keep them standing still. I swear to God I wanted to run, instead I stood my ground.

  I’ll knew as I ran that I was going to have nightmares of that very moment for the rest of my life. The moment when I stood in the middle of that ruined street watching over twenty lumbering monsters with crazed eyes and gnashing teeth come toward me.

  When the closest zombie was within a dozen feet of me, I turned and ran back into Starbucks. At this point, I knew I had to get back to the roof without delay or I was dead meat.

  Literally.

  The second I cleared the window seal, I slipped.

  “Aww, hell!” was the only thought in my panicked mind. I scrambled off of my knees and pulled a piece of glass out of my palm. I had made it around the counter when I heard the first zombies fall into the front of the store.

  To close, too close, too close!

  I kept moving, even when I heard the sound of glass crunching beneath the feet of a bunch of zombies, I kept moving to the back of the store. I wiped my palms all over the door that led to the second floor and then slammed it shut.

  By the time I was halfway across the second floor, I heard the thumps and moans of the zombies right outside the door. I sprinted for the stairs and made sure to pull them up after me when I cleared the roof. I had no idea if a zombie could open a door or climb stairs or not, and I didn’t really want to find out.

  With a shaking hand, I pulled out my box of waterproof matches and walked over to the edge of the roof. There were zombies clamoring to get into the store directly below me.
r />   Jesus, I thought, I sure would hate to fall into that.

  I struck a match and stood close to the edge of the wall and let it drop. Nothing happened. I wiped my damp palms on my pants and struck another one; it too fizzled out before it hit the ground. I had to squelch the rising panic.

  This had to work. It was my last resort.

  I took out a match and lit the napkin rope I’d drenched in lighter fluid. The rope burst into flames, and I screeched, barely holding onto the edge of it. I held it over the edge of the roof for a second longer and then let it go with a prayer.

  The flaming napkin rope hit the sidewalk right next to a zombie, and at first, nothing happened. I was just about to give up and go on with the third part of my plan when the flames from the napkin caught the line of lighter fluid I’d sprayed out onto the sidewalk.

  A line of fire flew into the store. I waited several breathless moments to see if my plan had been a success when suddenly, smoke and flames shot from the front of the store.

  I squealed out loud like a lunatic.

  I ran over to where I had sat my backpack and jerked it on. My adrenaline was kicking, and I was charged and ready to get the next part of my plan over with. My mouth felt dry when I thought about what I was about to do.

  I walked over to the edge of the building and once again peered over to the roof of the building next to the one I was standing on. It was totally doable, but that didn’t make my fear any less real. Two stories were a long way to drop when you had nothing but pavement, fire, and zombies to break your fall.

  I backed up several feet and tried to ignore the sounds of popping glass and zombies moaning in the distance. I had already put my knife away. If running with scissors was bad for your health, I’m pretty sure jumping from one rooftop to another with a twelve-inch blade in your hand would’ve been downright lethal.

  “I can do this. I can do this. I have to do this,” I chanted to myself. I ran full out, my legs pumping as hard as my heart and then I screamed like a girl and catapulted myself off of the roof.