Resurrection of the Fallen (Book 1): Surviving New York

by Misti Vanhoy

  Panicked, we tore down the last flight and out the door to the outside world. What awaited us caused my heart to drop to the ground. The entire street as far as our eyes could see was nothing but chaos. Bodies lined the streets and sidewalks, buildings were on fire, trucks and cars circling our building were splattered with blood. It was much worse on ground zero then it had looked from my balcony. The buildings that weren’t on fire as of yet had men running rampant with guns, visible through the windows. They donned bandanas over their faces to hide their identities. The Holocaust came to mind once more.

  The door we had just come out had opened behind us without us realizing it in our daze. I was grabbed by the shoulders from behind as the two angry Hispanics tried to drag us to their car. The black Escalade sat with the engine running directly in front of the door waiting for its people to return to the safety of its interior. To my dismay, Brantley dropped Samantha onto the concrete without even batting an eye. In the same jaw-dropping moment, he turned to the one gang member and knocked him flat on his ass with a punch to the nose. He swiftly picked my sister back up and ran down the alleyway that ran beside our hotel, leaving me there to fend for myself.

  “You bastard! How dare you run off with my sister!” I yelled after him as I fought the man holding my arms behind my back. He tightened the tension on me, pulling my arm further behind my back and sending sharp pain through my shoulder. The son of a bitch was about to break my arms to keep me from going anywhere. God only knew what he would do to me when he got the chance. There was no telling how they treated their captives.

  I heard it before I saw it: a dagger flying through the air toward us. The whistling sound it made as it flew straight and true was almost too high-pitched for a person to hear. With an audible thud and a stream of blood, the blade lodged itself in my captor’s forehead. It took a few more moments for his body to catch up to his deceased brain before he crumbled to the ground to never rise again. I had never been so happy in my life! Karma’s a bitch and here was the perfect example of it.

  I arched my back and bent my neck to the side, stretching my arms and allowing my joints to pop. The ache of almost having my arms broken would stick with me for a few days, but I was alive. Thank God and thank Reagan. I would be dead, or worse, if it wasn’t for her. But, then again, she’s usually the reason things happen like they do. This situation probably wasn’t any different. To finish it off and get a little payback, I pulled out my knife and jumped on the other guy. I drove the blade through his eye without a second thought. It made me feel better even though he hadn’t actually touched me.

  “Come on! We don’t have all day for this!” she yelled as she waved for me to follow her down the alleyway Brantley had used when he ran. I happily hurried to follow my savior. The chaos was attracting more zombies anyway. They were coming down the alleys and streets. Some were recognizable from outside the library the other day. I didn’t want to get caught here by them or the other gang members when they decided it was time to leave.

  We couldn’t get far enough away, though, before a loud bang echoed through the alley and a hot, burning sensation went through the outside of my left arm. Panicking worse now with my heart racing, I forced my legs to move even faster as I felt the blood dribble down my arm from the gunshot wound. I didn’t know how bad it was and I wasn’t about to stop here to check it. I just had to fight the searing pain and throbbing as I pushed to reach safety. The further away I was the better. If they can escape the growing crowd of dead cannibals approaching them, they’d be after us in a heart beat. We weren’t prepared to battle right now. I didn’t have my clips for my gun and knives would be no match for their automatic rifles.

  We stole off into the night just as we had done the other morning. We finally caught up to Brantley and Samantha where Reagan always parked her ‘spare’ bike. She kept an extra one on hand in case she couldn’t reach her favorite ride. Our hurriedly put together plan had us headed west from our hotel toward the rolling farmlands of Pennsylvania. More importantly, it had us running off to find the source of the blue night light and hopefully our salvation. I hopped into an abandoned silver Jeep parked beside of her bike to accompany my sister and Brantley. She didn’t need to be left alone with him, especially now that he was in more danger from her than she ever had been with him. Reagan, leading the way, skirted us between other abandoned vehicles and down side streets to avoid running into any other unwanted company.

  Chapter 15

  It seemed like we drove for days as I tried to nurse my sister through her infliction. We swerved through city streets and down highways. We barely missed a few vehicles when the abandoned cars created somewhat of an obstacle course. I just kept praying we would make it; that Samantha would live through this. I hoped she was like some of the people in the movies that would be immune to this infectious bite, but she just kept getting worse by the hour. I didn’t expect her to live much longer.

  We’ve noticed over the years that children take a little longer to turn than adults do. Maybe because their immune system was stronger and faster than ours was. They could fight off the virus longer. Maybe God just wanted children to have the chance to say goodbye and to accept Him into their hearts for salvation on their death beds. I couldn’t help but think that it was because they were meant to suffer longer. Their lives were shorter and they hadn’t been able to fully experience anything. Maybe this was the universe’s way of saying they needed to learn and experience suffering. Maybe God wanted the adults to suffer by creating a little hope from the children fighting to live. It was cruel either way.

  I kept wiping the sweat off her forehead that wouldn’t stay gone. She had broken out into a fever and her skin had turned pasty and pale. We needed to find somewhere to pull over soon and wait this out until she turned and I could kill her without feeling like I murdered someone. I couldn’t live with myself if I did. I definitely couldn’t do my sister that way. I couldn’t end her life while she was still herself.

  It made it harder to deal with the situation when she would beg me to kill her. She was ready to go, she repeated every thirty minutes. I tried to ignore her, but the more I did, the worse she would act when begging for the end. She had started smacking things within reach and kicking like the child she still was. It became unbearable once we had pulled out from the city and entered the countryside. Her incessant moaning and pleading had become our music that was stuck on repeat. No matter what we did, she wouldn’t be consoled. She couldn’t stand to be in the pain that she was in. Hell, I couldn’t stand it for the simple fact that she was making my life miserable.

  I wasn’t exactly sure where we were when Brantley pulled the car over. One thing I did know was that it was in the middle of nowhere with nothing but rolling pastures and farmland as far as the eyes could see. Had we been here for other reasons, I would’ve found it to be beautiful and calming. Had we been with anyone other than Brantley, I would’ve found peace and solitude in being here even with Sammy dying. He turned around to look at us, scowling, and said, “We’re looking for a house right now. I’m parking this car and we’re going to deal with this situation. I’ve had enough!”

  “You’d be this way if you’d been bit, too, jackass!” I hissed back. Out of all the people I had to end up stuck with, he just had to be one of them.

  “That doesn’t make a difference and I really don’t give a damn,” he retorted, smug with his response. Of course he wouldn’t care. He had never cared about anyone other than himself since we met.

  “Well, just quit flapping your gums and get a move on!” I fought the urge to reach into the front seat and smack the piss out of him. Last thing I needed right now was a physical confrontation with anyone. My sister needed me to be calm through this. I could tell that I wasn’t the only one getting irritated with Brantley. Reagan sat on her motorcycle beside the Jeep with a frown on her face. Her fingers tapped away impatiently at the handlebars and she occasionally revved up the engine to let him know how she was fe
eling.

  Mumbling under his breath, he pulled away from the side of the road and slowly drove down the highway in search of any type of building we could protect ourselves in. He kept glaring at me in the rearview mirror every so often to make sure I knew how much he appreciated my attitude. I just smiled knowing I bothered him that much. My dad was no longer here to make it an even fight between the men and the women. He needed to come to terms with that fact fast or he was going to continue his life being disappointed and ill every time he wanted something done his way.

  We climbed up a little hill and, as we crested, saw a building on the right off in the distance. Brantley shot a questioning glance in the rearview mirror at me and I nodded. I braced myself mentally for the possibility that we’d have a fight on our hands when we arrived at the destination. This far out from population it may not be so bad, but they could’ve migrated in search of a dwindling food supply. We just couldn’t be sure anymore. Their behavior was constantly changing in response to their food plight.

  Brantley continued his slow pace so that we could scout out the house before we got to the driveway. It had the same eerie look to it like the library did: empty and undisturbed. The windows were closed off to any curious eyes so we had no way of knowing what awaited us inside. The Chevrolet Cobalt sat pretty and blue in the driveway with a layer of pollen and dust resting upon it. The screened in porch didn’t appear to be torn and the one bay garage was closed and silent beside the much larger home. A thick chain was wrapped around the door handles and secured by a lock. The barn off to the right stood rickety and misshapened as though it had been decaying and unwanted for twenty years. The beautiful blooming trees surrounding all three structures provided enough shade during the day to keep them cool and even now it threw a long, menacing shadow over the estate. No zombies were walking around so that was a plus for us. The only thing we couldn’t tell for sure was if there were any inside. All the curtains were pulled closed, sealing its secrets within.

  “Stay here, Sammy. I’m going to go check it out, ok?” I whispered to my sister as I wiped the sweat from her forehead once more. She nodded absently as she clung harder to her arm where she had been bitten. The rag had long been soaked through and the blood on her fingers had started to oxidize. She begged once more for a release from the pain, but I ignored her as I exited the Jeep with Brantley to stand by Reagan’s side.

  “Cozy,” she stated to break the silence that surrounded us all. I nodded in agreement as I pulled my daggers from their sheath on my belt. The two of them mimicked me and followed along behind as we headed for the house, creating a v-pattern to protect all sides. We may have looked like a flock of geese walking through the yard to the screen door, but it was the safest way for us all. We had eyes looking in every direction. Surprises couldn’t sneak up on us so long as we kept formation.

  To the right side of the house, in the dim light, we could make out an engine of some sort. It sat upon black and red rails. I found it odd. I had no idea what it was. I had never seen one before in my life. If I had to guess, I would say it was a necessity here on this farm.

  Brantley broke the silence to say, “They have a generator. Maybe someone still lives here.” A generator? Why would someone need that in the north? There was always a place to go that had power if a storm knocked others out. Home generators had become obsolete over the years.

  “Does it have any gas in it?” Reagan asked, whispering to avoid attracting attention to us. Brantley unscrewed the gas cap while I stood back a short distance, in awe of how he knew so much about it. Things like this really made me wonder what kind of work he used to do.

  Both Reagan and Brantley’s noses wrinkled up as he replied, “Oh, yeah. There’s gas in it. Looks to be completely full. Or close to it.” The gas cap was returned to its home and we proceeded back to the house. We would come back to turn it on if we didn’t find any zombies here. At least then we might be able to take our first hot shower in a long time. I couldn’t help but to smile. It sounded heavenly to me.

  I took a deep, calming breath to steady my hands before reaching for the door handle. I could feel my frantic heartbeat in my fingertips and sweat started accumulating on my brow. The cool air felt even colder to me as my sweat clothed me in a clammy layer. I pushed my fear back into the dark recesses of my mind where it couldn’t do me any harm, grabbed the handle, and flung the door open. We rushed in like a SWAT team and barged our way into the house, closing the door behind us to protect our flank from outside attack.

  The inside of the house was much like the library. No footsteps had disturbed the dust in years, dishes lay molded in the kitchen sink, mildewed furniture and curtains stunk up the house, and the worst part of it all was the half-eaten food and other garbage that was left in the garbage can. The stench was twice as bad as that of the rotting corpses we’ve lived with for four years. I gagged at the sight of the maggots and mold-infested meats sitting at the top of it all. I rushed to get out of that room to escape the smell as best I could. I felt the rush of vomit climbing my esophagus as my senses were overloaded.

  Both levels were clear of any zombies, or even people for that matter. I hadn’t been hopeful that someone would be there, but it would’ve been nice to have someone else to talk to. After the day I’ve had, I could’ve used a little bit of hope for us all. Just one other person would’ve been proof that we weren’t alone on this planet and that survival had a purpose. The rooms had been ransacked for whatever valuables the people could obtain. I doubt that it had been the owners of this home unless they were leaving in a hurry. They would’ve known where to look for the important things they needed.

  What we found in the master bathroom was nauseating. Pressed up against the wall beside the toilet was a decayed, almost mummified, body of what appeared to be a woman, based off of her clothes. A pool of what could have been blood had dried up to a crusty brown beneath her limp arms. Written on the wall above her in either lipstick or blood were the words ‘Rachel was here. Dead walk among us. Blessed be those still fighting to live. May God have mercy on our souls.’ Beneath that in a different shade of color were the words ‘God doesn’t exist. God wouldn’t do this to His children –Sherrie.’ A bloody handprint was pasted below that, dried and brown in color now. Parts of the handprint had started to flake off. My heart broke for these women. I could only hope that one of them was still among those of us left to wander this world. Faith was all that was keeping me moving right now and it bothered me immensely that someone would lose faith enough to take their own life. This place wouldn’t be my last choice. I would have kept going. At least living brought the possibility of seeing the cure come along.

  We descended the stairs and ventured back outside to grab Samantha. I needed to get her comfortable even if the house stank to high heaven. Looking through the rear window, I could see that she had gone white in the face. It wouldn’t be much longer until she passed. Her body couldn’t make enough blood to replace what she’d been losing this whole time. Making her comfortable was all that we could do now. I shed a few tears at this revelation, but quickly wiped them away to stay strong for her. I was all she had left and I couldn’t let her pass away worried.

  With Reagan’s help I toted her to the top floor of the house and put her in the room full of toys. I knew she’d be happiest here when she left this world. We laid her across the bed and stuck the pillows up under her head and back so she could take in everything. A dim smile flashed across her face at the sight of the room. It sparked a little of the hope that I had left that she would make it out of this alive. Part of me knew it was false hope, but some things can’t always be helped.

  I tucked her in with the covers and grabbed a little dish that rested on the vanity. “I’ll be right back, Sammy. I’m going to get some water to wash your forehead with. We need to break this fever,” I told her as I headed for the door, shutting it behind me. I stood for a moment at the door, listening in on her movements. I then turned and walked away.r />
  While we were busy, Brantley snuck along to the side of the house and located the generator once more. With a quick check of the meters and oil levels, the cord was pulled. It took several attempts at pulling it, and a few movements of the choke lever, before the beast roared to life, blowing out white smoke into the night air. The jets were filthy and the air filter was dirty. As soon as it cleaned its system out of the cobwebs from sitting, she would be as good as gold.

  Chapter 16

  While she was making the brat comfortable, I snuck away to the porch for some fresh air. What I wouldn’t give for a cigarette… It had been too long since I had smoked my last pack and too long since we had made a decent grocery run for me to get more. It made times like this almost unbearable.

  I paced back and forth for a moment from one end of the porch to the other. Figuring out what to do about the girl was high priority for me. I couldn’t risk her turning and taking my Morgan away from me. She needed to go now. Morgan had to let go before it was too late. It was risky to hope that she would live through the bite, which I knew she wouldn’t.

  Out of the corner of my eye, I caught the glimpse of something growing beside the garage. It didn’t look like any normal weed to me. In fact, it looked like the answer to my problems. I was so glad now that I had taken Horticulture in high school! I raced over, excited, but forgot to check for zombies in my haste.

  The bushy plant was beautiful in my eyes. A few blooming, purple flowers invited me in. I recognized it quickly for what it was: Atropa Belladonna. Many green berries dotted the remains of some flowers while a few shiny, black berries marked those that were ripest. I remembered from my readings that just two of those black berries could kill a small child, ten to twenty for adults. In Samantha’s weakened state, the ten or so berries here should do the trick without a problem.