Dead and Forsaken

by West, J. D.

  DEAD

  AND

  FORSAKEN

  By J.D. West

  Published by J. D. West.

  Copyright 2014 by J. D. West.

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored, or transmitted in any form by any means, electronic, mechanical, or photocopying, recording or otherwise, without the prior permission of the publisher.

  This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, businesses, organizations, places, events, and incidents are either the product of the authors imagination or used fictitiously. Any direct or indirect resemblance to actual places, locales, events, or persons living or dead is completely coincidental.

  Table of Contents

  Introduction: 5

  CHAPTER 1: 6

  Blood and Sand6

  CHAPTER 2: 13

  Starting Over13

  CHAPTER 3: 21

  Trouble at the Border 21

  CHAPTER 4: 35

  The Spreading Sickness 35

  CHAPTER 5: 50

  Death and Resurrection50

  CHAPTER 6: 62

  Out of the Darkness 62

  CHAPTER 7: 70

  The Aftermath70

  CHAPTER 8: 77

  Neighborhood Watch77

  CHAPTER 9: 81

  The Murder of the Innocent81

  CHAPTER 10: 87

  Dressed to Kill87

  CHAPTER 11: 95

  Blind Trust95

  CHAPTER 12: 103

  Test of Faith103

  CHAPTER 13: 114

  The Night Shift114

  CHAPTER 14: 123

  The Morning After123

  CHAPTER 15: 134

  Extermination134

  CHAPTER 16: 153

  Burial Chamber153

  CHAPTER 17: 171

  Footsteps in the Dark171

  CHAPTER 18: 186

  The Stairway to Hell186

  CHAPTER 19:196

  Last of the Living196

  CHAPTER 20:212

  The Final Salvation212

  CHAPTER 21:221

  Survival of the Fittest221

  CHAPTER 22:233

  The Beginning of the End233

  Biography237

  Introduction:

  Throughout our history the Gods has used fire, water, war and plague to cleanse the earth’s population of the wicked. This demonstration of power drew the survivors closer to their God. Death is man’s ultimate fear. Arabic history books talk about people being brought back to life for living an immoral life. Nordic Viking lore spoke of a creature with an insatiable appetite for human flesh. Even the enlightened minds of the western European society scared each other with similar stories about the dead tormenting the living. All of them are based on fear of the unknown. No man knows the time or place of his death. We take life for granted. That's why you have to celebrate everyday God allows you to wake up. What if today was Gods day of resurrection? What if the world you know came to an end? What if today was judgment day and your last day on earth?

  Most Christians believe that when Jesus comes back he will rapture them up and take them to his kingdom in heaven. Unfortunately many of them will be left behind. Only the true believers who did the work of God the almighty father will be allowed to enter the pearly gates. God only recognizes believers he had a personal relationship with. Everyone else will be eternally separated from the presence of God. All of the dead shall hear his voice and rise from the grave. The wicked and unjust shall stand before him and be judged. The lord will swallow the condemned in his wrath and devour them. Cast out into eternal suffering they will be sentenced to second death and hell on earth. Death is supposed to be final but what if it was just the beginning? What if God commanded the forsaken dead to rise up until they outnumbered the living?

  Zechariah 14:12-13 “On the Day of Judgment the people of the earth will be thrown into a great panic. A plague will turn them into walking corpses. Their flesh will begin to rot. Their eyes will shrivel into their heads. Their tongues will decay in their mouths. On that day of great destruction neighbors will be stricken by plague then rise up and attack each other violently.”

  CHAPTER 1:

  Blood and Sand

  After everything that has happened I guess I should start at the beginning. Just like everyone else in my family I grew up Pittsburgh, PA. My mother met my father when she was a freshman in high school. He was the local bad boy and lady’s man. It was not hard for him to manipulate a young girl. She thought that he really loved her but when she got pregnant he didn’t want anything to do with her or me. My mother named me Kevin and gave me Robinson her maiden name. She had to raise me all alone by herself. I was the product of a single parent home and my mom struggled to make ends meet. After years of street my father got arrested and was sent to prison. Even when he was was released he was never involved in my life. I vaguely remembered what he even looked like. I learned how to be a man from the older guy's in the neighborhood. My mother thought I was going to end up in jail just like my father. Thankfully joining ROTC and playing high school football kept me out of the streets.

  After graduation I joined the Marines to get away from the poverty and gangs. Before that I was just sleepwalking through life with no direction. I was living at home and working at a dead end job. My friends thought I was crazy for joining up during wartime. It was a one way ticket to the front lines. My mother cried as I waited in line outside the recruiting office to get on the bus to boot camp. We were headed to Paris Island in South Carolina. The military allowed me to see the world beyond the streets. The pay was shit and the hours were hell but I was proud to serve. Many of my fellow Marines came from poverty stricken inner city neighborhoods or economically depressed small towns. We were young working class kids trying to make a difference.

  The first time my mother saw me in my dress blues was at graduation. She told me she was proud of the man I had become. That night my whole squad was pumped up and ready to take on the world. We were all just kids trying not to come home in a body bag. Two months later we were overseas. I served two tours of duty in Iraq and one in Afghanistan. The first time I had to take someone’s life I was sick to my stomach but I learned to live with it. It was kill or be killed. During my last tour a close friend of mine got killed.

  Daniel Chen was my best friend despite the fact that he was a diehard New England Patriots fan. He had a strong sense of duty and loved his country just like me. We met in bootcamp. He was well known around the base because of his kind demeanor and that thick Boston accent coming out of an Asian guy’s mouth. Dan was naturally charismatic and everyone liked him. We both had a love for weight lifting, weapons and beautiful women. Together we had starred death in its eyes many times and lived to drink about it. Most people think war is about that bullshit you see on those political news shows but when the bullets start flying no one cares who you voted for or where you worship. For us soldiers the war was about protecting the man to your left and the man to your right. There was no margin for error. We had gone out on patrol that morning outside Kandahar and spent hours traipsing through the desert. As the day progressed things got worst.

  Dan and I ended up in a firefight with insurgents when a suicide bomber slammed his car filled with explosives into our roadside checkpoint. Bomb blasts like these caused brain injuries, left shrapnel wounds and led to multiple amputations. IED's were the biggest killers of U.S. Soldiers in Iraq and Afghanistan. There was no real number on many others were wounded. Nine Afghan police officers died in the blast along wit
h a lot of civilians. The Afghans sustained heavy casualties. The insurgents were at war with the U.S. and their own government but regular civilians were left to bear the brunt of the violence. A large crater and ripped cloths soaked in pools of blood marked were people had been standing. The lucky ones screamed and cried out in pain while the others were left lying there motionless. At least two dozen fighters surrounded our position. The remaining insurgents opened fire on us with machine guns and rocket propelled grenades.

  They wanted to draw us out and funnel us towards their snipers. Bullets and shrapnel were hitting everything. A whole lot of good people were hurt. The attack included extended moments of gunfire and several large explosions. Dan and I made our way to the insurgent position to engage the enemy. All of them had concealed their faces with scarfs to prevent reprisal by local government officials. Women and children scattered in every direction. We were able to take out three fighters and one bastard trying to plant an IED. He was trying to plant the bomb near a group of wounded civilians. That way he could use it on other people that showed up to help. It was a futile attempt that was proven detrimental to his health. Dan lit his terrorist ass up with a barrage of bullets that sent his saddles flying through the air. Then he stood over top of him and double tapped him to be sure. The insurgents were increasing these types of attacks and using larger amounts of explosives lately. They had no problem killing their own people or anyone else who got in their way.

  The resulting deaths splintered families and killed off whole house holds. Thousands of people left their villages for government controlled refugee camps. The effects rippled through the war torn community. Dan and I kept going and rounded a disabled truck. We continued to duck and covers behind cars as we moved further down the road. We anticipated little resistance but walked right into a second ambush. The insurgents randomly fired at anyone from our contingent that moved. As soon as they spotted us there was no turning back. They had us outnumbered but we still engaged them in a close quarters fight. Unfortunately there was no place for us to hide in the middle of the street. We had to crouch behind a wall and return fire in short bursts. There were multiple threats out there. Bullets flew at us from every alley and mud hut on the street. Some of the villagers including children were trapped in between us. An elderly man ran towards us screaming hysterically in Pashto the local tribal language. Bullets flew past his head and struck a house. As he attempted to bolt past I knocked him off his feet and dragged him behind some rubble. Somehow he only got nicked in the thigh. The old woman following him was not so lucky. She got shot in the throat and face causing her to fall a few feet from us.

  They wanted to kill Americans so bad that they didn't care if anyone else got hurt. A gaping hole was left in the spot where here eye had been. Blood had begun to congeal and mat in her hair. Her body was left facedown lifeless and bloody in the dirt. Dan returned fire trying to keep them at bay. Several dogs barked like crazy running back and forth in a lot close by. An American Apache attack helicopter patrolling the area flew over and laid down heavy cover fire killing several combatants. The insurgent fighters ducked down and took off running toward some houses. Dan and I rejoined the fight and together we took a couple of them out real quick. My arm was hurt during the chaos. A bullet hit me in my left shoulder causing me to pivot sideways but I continued to fight. I branched off and tossed some grenades then fired my gun while Dan worked his way around to their flank. He knew the shooters position and moved closer to get a clear shot. A group of terrified kids rushed past him yelling. Another little girl was just sitting in the street crying. She had been playing next to an abandoned car with the other children before the shooting started. Dan felt empathy for her so he picked her up and started running. Bullets tore into the dirt all around them causing the livestock to scatter. Dan's willingness to risk his life saved her. He carried her to an older woman huddled in a doorway with another child. Dan always had a smile on his face during a fight so when he looked back I was surprised to see fear in his eyes.

  I saw a flash as an RPG landed in front of Dan. A cloud of sand and rocks sprung from the smoldering impact spot. Dan was temporarily blinded and his body was sent flying. A blast like that was usually fatal. I jumped up and stormed the insurgent position methodically stalking them in a brutal and frenzied attack. Mortars rained down around me as I rushed head first into their lines. Every few seconds a flash shot from the muzzle of my rifle as I squeezed the trigger. The rounds sliced through their bodies and splintered their skulls into pieces. I killed eight of them single handed before returning to Dan. I had seen many of my fellow Marines hurt or killed on the front lines but this was my best friend. Large pieces of metal were stuck in his chest. The fragments had flown through the air and embedded in his body. The pieces struck him between the plates in his ballistic vest. They left several golf ball size holes in his ribcage and stomach. An additional injury to his head caused blood to cover his face and get into his eyes.

  He was the youngest of seven kids and his wife was nine months pregnant. Now he was lying on the ground dying. The blast tore up both his legs and mangled his arm. The left side of his face was burned. Metal shards were visible inside his shattered patella. He tried to move but suffered from temporary paralysis. He was bleeding heavily and blood was pouring out the holes in his body. Even if I could have gotten him immediate medical attention I don't know if he could have survived. There was so much I wanted to say but I couldn’t find my words. Somehow Dan managed to make light of the situation. He smiled and said he hoped this was the first and last time I let a man rest his head in my lap.

  “I'm sorry dog!” I said with tears in my eyes. “I should have been there!”

  “Don't sweat it man!” he whispered. “I'm OK. Just let me catch my breath. It feels like I was sat on by one of those fat chicks you picked up when we were on leave!”

  Despite his humor I could tell he was scared of dying. His voice was high pitched and urgent as he faded in and out of consciousness. He coughed up a glob of thick dark blood and started convulsing. A puddle of wine colored fluid secreted out his body turning the dry rocky sand into mud. I smiled down at him right before he closed his eyes. I had seen my fellow Marines and friends risk everything to protect each other. It made us closer than blood. We had seen better days but today was not one of them. Dan died in my arms a few minutes later. I was unable to save him. He like so many others had dedicated his life to his country and gave the ultimate sacrifice for our freedom. At least his family would be able to bury his body. After most bombings there isn't enough left for the military to identify. I wrote his family a letter regretfully informing them of his death and explained how he died a hero thereby sacrificing himself. His family knew the risk he was taking by becoming a soldier they just prayed that this day would never come.

  Now we all had to find a way to go on living. I was fixed up at a field hospital and returned to duty. The insurgents we killed had also pinned down another patrol. They abandoned their Humvee after an RPG destroyed the engine block and it was raked by gunfire. Several soldiers were wounded. Their commander called for air support but there were no reinforcements close by. They were left waiting on a counter attack that never came. The outnumbered soldiers formed a defensive perimeter and tried to beat back the enemy. Unknowingly our actions saved them after the enemy combatants refocused their resources on us. There was enough time for the remaining wounded to be evacuated after the threat was neutralized. The military wanted to reward me with a medal for my bravery. Dan received one too posthumously.

  Every morning I woke up in emotional limbo. I began to second guess myself wondering if there was something I could have done to change the outcome. Still reeling from the aftermath I started to enjoy killing and tried to inflict the maximum amount of pain on my enemies. I was not a soldier anymore. I be
came judge, jury and executioner. The lust for blood consumed me. The killings went on and on. It was not good enough for them to die. Those bastards had to suffer. They sent me home eight months later because they thought I showed an extreme indifference to taking lives. As a reward for my stellar service record I was given an honorable discharge.

  ******

  I ended up staying with my mom. I had lived through two wars filled with death and destruction. I saw and did a lot of terrible things over there for my country and I couldn't forget it. It was strange to go from living in a constant heightened state to what most people consider a normal life. The next couple of weeks were a blur. I spent the day listening to sad R&B songs or RAP filled with angry lyrics. If that didn't clear my mind I played video games or accessed dozens of porn sites. My erratic social behavior scared people around me. Personally I was frustrated and confused. I just didn't know how to articulate my feelings. It had been months since I had a reason to leave the house or get out of bed. When I fell asleep I suffered from night tremors and recurring nightmares. All the memories from that day in the desert would come flooding back into my mind. Certain sights, sounds and smells haunted me.

  One day a car drove past and backfired. I dove for cover and reached for a firearm that wasn’t there. The psychiatrist at the VA hospital claimed that I was having a breakdown. I don't know what the psychiatrist told my mom but she thought I was going to commit suicide. She even hid all the knives and scissors in the house. It all started because I wouldn't talk to her about what happened over there. We had been close when I was younger but some things need to be kept secret. Besides the only people who knew what it was really like over there were dead or still there. The suicide rate for veterans returning home from war was seventeen percent. Unlike in past wars the battlefield medical survival rate was ninety five percent but many of us manifested psychological problems. It affected our personal relationships and took a toll on the marriages of many of my fellow vets.