Brutal Planet: A Zombie Novel

by Sean P. Murphy

  In order not to press our luck and to keep the town relatively quiet, all of us decided to be as inconspicuous as possible, difficult considering the size of the island and its proximity to shore. To get to my spot on the balcony without one seeing me was almost impossible.

  “Are they thinking?” Barbara asked as she finished her fourth glass of Bordeaux.

  “I don't know, it more than likely is just an involuntary reaction, a simple neural response to stimuli,” I replied as I looked at her glass and seriously considered my almost six years of sobriety.

  “Well, they are well coordinated physically but I have yet to see any evidence of organization,” Bill chimed in, still staring at the ceiling. “A real organized group effort and they could easily have gotten to us.”

  “I don't know, Bill, our doors are awfully strong.”

  “If they collectively knew we were there, they would have found a way. Organized or not, they would never stop trying.” Bill took a gulp of wine and seemed to study a painting on the wall behind me intently. “They'll never leave as long as we’re here,” he said to no one in particular.

  “I wonder what they would be like in numbers against a fixed target? You know, like being behind a good fence,” I said as I looked around the room for more soda.

  “Well, John, you'd better have a damn strong fence...and a high one, electric wouldn't hurt. They would just keep gathering, more and more.” He took another gulp. “Around sunrise three days ago, a truck came through Main Street. Big tires, all souped-up, ready to rumble. They went by so fast I didn’t have time to get a good look. About twenty minutes later, they hit. There was thousands, maybe tens of thousands. Like water, they just flowed around any obstacle, buildings, light poles, cars…all heading south, in the trucks direction. The horde almost swept us clean of zombies! Maybe only a hundred or so left, scattered.” Once again, Bill sort of drifted off.

  “They were relatively docile now because some part of them instinctively knows they cannot get to us, but remove the barrier and all bets are off.”

  “Does anyone think there is someplace on the mainland safe? Protected?” Barbara’s face was flushed from the wine and she sounded very tired.

  Robert chimed in, “Well, there's Cheyenne Mountain in Colorado Springs; Raven Rock, Mount Weather, missile silos, various military bases. I bet Offutt is still with us, Hell, I bet they even used The Greenbriar although that is one party I would not want to be invited to. Islands, both natural and manmade, I mean cruise ships.” He paused for a second, before continuing, “A lot of guns in this country, and a lot of people who know how to use them. I do believe America is going to show a different response than the infected has yet seen.”

  “So, Robert, are you saying Area 51 is more than likely still with us?”

  “Yes, John.”

  “Ha, I knew it! They called us crazy, but now who’s crazy?”

  He ignored me. “We talked briefly with some small middle of nowhere communities, and all but two were doing well.” Robert scratched his stubble. “There has to be plenty of remote places in the mountains or the backwoods, and I would imagine there are survivalists who are happy as a pig in shit that this went down. I just wouldn't want to be near any city trying to weather this storm.”

  “Well, I guess that just about eliminates the whole East Coast. You know, it only took a modicum of attention to see what was happening. I'm sure some people got ready. Hell, we did.” I stopped for a second. “Although I don't know how many of us are still around?” Of course, I was not about to mention that I had originally planned to see this through with a pistol, a bathtub full of water and some fucking canned mushrooms.

  “What’s really bothering me is that we all believe they attack for food and food only, I don't think that's the case. I mean, Robert and I have seen them attack one person, take a bite and immediately set off for another human, another target. Kind of like they are aware that one bite gives them yet another recruit. They seem to have so much anger and rage. Yeah, it sucks being a zombie, but where does that come from?”

  “Some aspect of the virus?” Answered Bill.

  “Obviously,” I answered in a voice that seemed distant and detached.

  “Do you think they still have a soul?” Barbara's voice slurred a little.

  “No!” Her question jolted me back to reality and my reply was harsh and had required no thinking, but her question was a valid one.

  “I'm sorry. I don't think they are who they used to be. Maybe their fury comes from the knowledge that they have no soul. They had some part of humanity that the living still poses. Maybe by attacking us they can regain something of their former lives.”

  Robert stood. “Okay, enough of this philosophical masturbation, I'm going to bed.”

  The perverted back of my mind wondered if he had just made a Freudian slip.

  “Yeah, me too.” If anyone wants to join me tomorrow on the lighthouse and add their two cents to my notes, you are more than welcome. Good night.”

  June 5th -6th

  During this time, Robert made triple sure that the boat was as ready as possible and then hung out and read. Weather held and life was good. We knew that a new radar was top priority and would probably get one from the boats moored near us, but that was all Robert's domain. Bill and Barbara spent most of their time wandering around the small island, sometimes just standing there, arm in arm, looking back at the town. I thought they acted a bit strange, as if there is such a thing as normal these days, and they were pissing me off for not staying out of the undead’s view, but… I still did not know them, so I gave them some slack. Something was going on. I just couldn't put my finger on it.

  I spent most of my time on top of the lighthouse daydreaming, watching, videoing, and taking notes. More than once, my mind wandered back to Barbara's comment about the soul. There they were by the thousands, as if forced by some invisible hand to crowd the docks and shoreline. Had they been in a zoo, I would have had nothing but pity for them; not being allowed to wander free in their own environment, to do what nature intended them to do. So many. They were the majority now. I thought back to the Matheson classic I Am Legend and the protagonist, Robert, sitting in his cell, looking at the masses of vampires and awaiting his death. Maybe everything has switched and I am the one who belongs in the zoo. Were these really sentient beings? Could there be some way we could connect with each other? Was destroying them a moral issue that needed to be considered? NO! Funny I should think that way, since all they had done is rain pain and sorrow on the world and me. I guess that’s what made me human, and maybe why I found such satisfaction in destroying them.

  I quickly inventoried our storeroom and as expected, supplies were going fast. I guess the unrelenting fear/tension/confusion/despair had made us hungry and we gorged. I was also amazed it only took a few stress-free days for me to revert to the old ways and I was once again throwing away good food. I had a mantra a few years back that I now needed to lean on. It’s from the poet David Whyte, ‘Alertness is the hidden discipline of familiarity.’ We are still, and may always be, walking that razor’s edge.

  For the last couple of days, Robert and I had manually run the generator to keep the desalinization unit active and the food cold. This was cool as it gave us something to do and made time relevant. It also saved considerably on diesel which should easily last a month or three, but we only had enough food for about two weeks. The harbor had a few moored boats, too small to be of any real value. There were a couple of bigger ones, but they were docked and our friends on shore ensured we weren't going there. The crowd was not getting larger, but also not getting smaller. Both Robert and I were rested and wanted to move on, not get caught by comfort and routine. We knew what we were running from, but not where we were running to. I, for one, felt a growing tension between R&J and B&B, and needed to leave. Yes, we had a good deal going on here, but I need something permanent.

  Dinner was a pleasant surprise. Bill had caught stripers that af
ternoon and did a magnificent job cooking them. Once finished, we fell into a bull session about our situation. I let Robert lead off.

  “Well, we all knew staying here was not an option. This is our fifth night here, John and my sixth. I think we should get ready to head south. We can resupply as we go. Our raid of Tenants Harbor and running into this place proved that food and fuel should not be a problem, if we are cautious. We have the weapons, and best of all, we have some knowledge about what is what. Boat’s in okay shape with plenty of room. We should go while the weather is good, while we are all in good health. Get down and settled in before storm season starts.”

  “I don't know, Robert, we got a real nice stable set-up here, which is a very rare thing in these times. Very rare. Who knows what lies to the south? How bad is it? Not many people lived near the harbor and look how many we got! There’re going to be in the millions. I agree we are lucky and should eventually leave, but not right now. Let's see what we can find around here, use this as our headquarters and really think this through. Maybe there are more people, more survivors. Winters are not that bad, I live here.” Bill spoke rapidly and had an undertone of desperation in his voice. Where did this come from?

  “We need a solid plan. We Need Information!” He pounded his fist into his palm. “We can't just go running off and hope for the best. Hell, look at our dinner from the sea. We can last here a lot longer than you think. I mean what do you guys really know? Ever lived off the land? Both of you are just academics!”

  Yes, and you are a shopkeeper, albeit one with a ton of guns. Robert was quiet. You could tell he also noticed something.

  “Well, there are some towns we could check out that are just a day or two away. You know, see what's moored. Do some fine tuning on Providence.” I was trying to appease and calm Bill. I had no clue what had set him off, but seeing that we were all armed and both he and Barbara had had plenty of wine and who knows what else, this seemed like a good option.

  “Yes, yes you two could reconnoiter, get some supplies, and see what’s up out there. Barbara lived and sailed around the Portland area and knows it like the back of her hand. We'll put our heads together and find us a solid, safe destination.”

  “Okay,” said Robert calmly and a bit slowly, “but hurricane season starts in a few weeks and we no longer have a weather service to tell us how big, when and where. I think we all agree that staying this far north for the winter is problematic at best. The boat isn't designed for that and we don’t have enough fuel and food. One little thing goes wrong in the middle of January and we’re screwed.”

  “Yes, we know, just a little more time, a chance to rest.” Bill’s eyes darted back and forth and it looked to me that he was at the point of sweating. We both knew that Barbara would do anything Bill suggested. I had never seen them apart. She just sat there, passively nodding.

  After a tense dessert of canned fruit and lime Jell-O, Robert and I went down to the boat on the pretext of getting her ready to leave early tomorrow morning for a raid south.

  “What the hell was that all about?” growled Robert.

  “No idea. It might be the wine going to his head.” We headed below deck.

  “I call bullshit. They have been squirrely since we met them. Barbara has got to be on some pharmaceutical and Bill's rubber band might have broken a while back.” Robert opened the cabinet and took out his handle of Dewars.

  “Well, that might be true, but I don't think they are any kind of threat. Think about it, they are tired, their brains are fried and they have seen enough.” I spied Robert’s scotch. It’s the fucking end of the world John, so I made a silent vow to take the next pot stash I found.

  “We will be fine. We’ve got the team thing down and when we come back, I’m sure they will want to leave. I know I am looking forward to someplace with a little more room.”

  “You said it, brother. I'm thinking something a little more tropical too!”

  “I know you think it’s stupid, but I would like to see how the cold weather affects them. What does freezing do?”

  “You are right as usual, it’s stupid.”

  “I think I’ll crash on the boat tonight, give them some time alone.”

  Robert took a big shot of scotch and headed to his cabin. “Let’s leave at dawn, lot of ground to cover, good night.”

  “Sounds good, let me get some of my stuff and let them know what’s up. Good night, Robert, sweet dreams!”

  I exchanged some small talk with B&B and went over our plans as detailed as I could. They were going to stay up a bit and play some cards. I noticed that someone had opened another bottle of wine. Ah, well, why should I care? I took my time heading back to the boat, moving cautiously, letting my eyes adjust to the night. Before boarding, I sat on the dock stairs. The night was warm with stars, a nice breeze and very Norman Rockwell. I could smell smoke. Somewhere north of us the horizon was interrupted by a huge blister of dull orange. No idea what’s burning but it’s big. I couldn’t hear anything from the mainland, just the lapping of the water on the dock and boat. I wondered what they do at night. Do they sleep? If so, do they dream? So much, we don’t know, I don’t know. Somebody somewhere had to be paying attention, taking notes. Well, Robert, here we go again, another adventure waits. Trying not to wake him, I tiptoed to my bunk. I was tired and it didn’t take me long to dream. I dreamt of Bangor.

  Chapter 6 ~ Leaving Bangor

  May 24rd

  It took eighteen minutes for me to pack. I grabbed all I could in two of my largest backpacks and one of my expedition bags. In my stash was all my freeze-dried food, easily a month for one person, headlamp, and two sets of extra pain in the ass to get 4.5V batteries, and a sleeping bag. Of the three sleeping bags, I took the mid-weight. I included clothes made for rain, wind, and tropical stuff, camping stove, two fuel tanks, almost three liters, jump bag, and big first aid kit. I also packed books, mostly first aid and some plant guide books, and a whole variety of other crap I knew I would probably not need. It was eerily like going on a backpacking trip, the only difference being, I was not coming back. Outside, I could hear car horns, sirens and an occasional pop, usually more than one. I didn't lock the door, figured if some of my neighbors were going to stay, they would appreciate the water, and of course, they could have the mushrooms. I also left Burt's door unlocked, said a silent prayer and left.

  I quadruple checked the Ruger and placed it on the passenger seat, and locked the doors. I have a 06 Subaru outback that I love and keep in good shape, a good thing too, since it looked like I was going to push it to its limit. Thank God, I had the foresight to keep the tank full. From the parking garage, it looked like most of my condo-mates had split. Just as I was to fire up the ignition and looked around for one last time, damn, that’s the Washburn’s car.

  They were a nice elderly couple that lived on the third floor. I had watched their Corgi, Conrad, on a few occasions and we got to be friends. At least once a month, I would go over on a Sunday morning for fresh baked, whatever fruit is in season, scones, coffee and a discussion of the news of the past couple of weeks. They had lived in Maine their whole lives with tons of odd facts and interesting places to go in the area. They also kept me updated on the latest Unitarian Fellowship news. I attended the Fellowship once every couple of months. It turns out Mr. Washburn or Chip, was a Korean War hero, one of the ‘Frozen Chosin’; Purple Heart, Silver Star and something else. His wife, Francis, told me, not him. Ah hell, I had to go check up on them. I saw them, what? Two days ago? Like everyone else, they were just scared and confused. It will just take a minute.

  Somebody on the first floor was cranking the title track of Metallica’s Master of Puppets. I could definitely smell pot and something else, kind of like plastic burning. By the time I arrived on the third floor, I was getting antsy and a hidden part of my brain was telling me some important information. One, that I had to go, two, don’t be stupid, you don’t owe these people anything, and three, the Ruger is in the car on the
passenger seat. Did you lock the car? Just as I started to listen to my brain, I found myself in front of their door, so I knocked.

  Nothing. Thank you, God.

  Okay, I tried. Time to go. Shit.

  This time, I pounded.

  “Guys, it’s John! It’s Dr. Patrick!” I pounded again and waited. They had to be home unless they left with friends. I put my ear to the door. There was music, something classical. Conrad was not barking. In an instant, I just knew. I leaned against the door for a bit and closed my eyes. Holy Cow, I did not see that one coming. I always joked about life being cruel. Well now, I get to live the joke.

  When I got outside things were changing fast. The roads were jammed with panicked people and yes, I had left the car unlocked. As the chaos mounted, you could smell the fear. Yeah, it was fear of the zombies, but I think even more, it was fear of the chaos, the unknown. Everybody was in the process of seriously losing their shit. I fired up the Subaru, went out the rear entrance, and across some neighbor’s backyard to reach a side street I hoped would be less crowded. I had to get to the other side of town to meet the group and this was not going to be easy. I had never been there, but my GPS apparently had, almost. I was not receiving any audible commands and the connection was less than perfect, but I knew the general location. I slalomed around several abandoned cars and tried to tunnel vision just the road and direction. Right now, my goal was not to stop.

  I came to a sudden stop. In front of me was an ambulance that looked like it had plowed into several cars, one of which was on fire. People were everywhere; some from the accident, some trying to help, but most were just confused. This was the first time I noticed what I was passing. I was in an average middle class neighborhood full of raised ranches and adequate lawns. There was a family a house ahead of me with what looked like a mother and two children just standing still, all in a row staring intently at something I couldn’t see. On the other side of the street was an elderly woman on her back, just lying there with no one around. Was she from the accident? Was she dead? Several front doors were wide open. Everything felt strange, even time seemed different. I needed to focus and get moving, but I used the delay and called Elizabeth. Holy Shit, I got through, another miracle. The connection was crappy, but I told her I was on my way and how crazy things are. She said that there were some others also bogged down and that police scanners were already talking about infected within the city limits. She started giving me additional directions when the connection died. It’s okay, I am kind of sure I know the way and besides, Liz knows I am coming. I just have to keep moving.