Survive (Book 1): Salvation

by Veronica Smith

  “You were a nerd?” Steve stopped and stared at him.

  “An environmental activist,” replied Antonio laughing. “Get it right. Big difference. Besides, a zombie outbreak will change a person.”

  “You got that right,” Steve nodded to him and went back to work.

  Antonio saluted him and headed back to the dead vehicles, grabbing the tire iron on the way. He was under a truck that was close to the compound when the building collapsed. He curled into a fetal position as best he could in the limited space. He looked to his right at a flaming ball that landed next to the truck. It was someone’s boot. He scooted out and kicked dirt over it to put it out. He shook his head sadly and went back to pulling the spare out from under the truck. He wished he had thought to do this while the other tires were still on the trucks. The truck’s wheels still were balanced on rocks that he used when he took off the regular tires. Now the undercarriage of the truck was a lot closer to the ground and it left him little room to work. He kept cracking his elbows on metal.

  The crackling of the fire masked the sound of the approaching vehicle until a closing door made him jump, smacking his head.

  “Shit!” he yelled. He cursed himself for not keeping silent but his legs sticking out on the ground would’ve given him away already.

  He felt his feet grabbed and his shirt rode up his back as he was dragged out. He couldn’t reach his weapons so he held the tire iron defensively.

  “Antonio?”

  All he saw were axes and machetes held above his body.

  “Terry?”

  The weapons went away and hands reached down to help him up. He looked up to see Terry and the four other members of his team: Rodrigo and his brother Carlos, Tamra, and Bob. They were all looking at the burning ruins and crying.

  “What happened here?” Terry choked out.

  “We’re pretty sure it was a cannibal tribe,” Antonio answered.

  Tamra put her face in her hands and wailed, dropping to her knees. She had left her two children with her sister here.

  “No one’s here?” Bob asked in a shaky voice. His wife had been here as well.

  Antonio shook his head. “There was a lot of blood in different places; at least the places that weren’t too hot to check. But not one single body. Who do we know does that?”

  Terry nodded, “Only the cannibals.”

  Rodrigo and Carlos held each other, thinking of their sister, Carmen, left behind. Without warning Rodrigo let go of Carlos and lunged at Antonio, yanking off the cloth he still had around his neck.

  “This was Carmen’s,” he whispered. “Where was it?”

  “It was in the living quarters,” Antonio answered. “The smoke was choking me and it was the first thing I saw.”

  “Was it our rooms?” Carlos asked, rubbing his fingers on the cloth.

  “I don’t know,” Antonio replied. “So much was destroyed it was impossible to tell where I was. The room was in shambles, I could tell that even with the fire damage, so she put up a hell of a fight. But didn’t see any blood in there.”

  Rodrigo bowed his head, he taught her to fight; she wouldn’t have gone easy. Tamra and Bob went to where Steve was still gutting vehicles and immediately jumped in to help. Luckily, Bob knew a little about trucks so he helped Steve with the more complicated extractions.

  “We’ve got to find them!” Carlos yelled.

  “And we will!” Antonio replied, holding Carlos’ shoulders. “As soon as Joe and Sheila get back with their team. Any less and I don’t know that we can take them. And I think I know someone that can help us.”

  Within the hour they saw the dust from the north road as Joe and Sheila’s truck came barreling as fast as they could, having seen the smoke.

  Chapter Six – 2035

  “Fucking ghoul!” Chuck bellowed as he swung his club, bashing the brains of a cannibal to bits. He smiled as he relished every cannibal’s death. Everyone hated them but he took it very personal. His club was his own design and heavy enough that a normal man couldn’t wield it. Chuck was no ordinary man. He was six foot six inches and a block of muscle. His club was four sided. A large spike was embedded onto one side while several spikes were on the opposite side. The other two sides remained curved and blunt. The top of the head was a large blade that was long and strong enough to decapitate a man. The head of the club was almost a foot long. No matter which side hit you, it would kill you. It only took a quick turn of the wrist for him to change to his choice of weapon. His was a one-handed weapon because Chuck was a one-handed man. He was missing his left arm up to elbow. He once thought to make a spear to connect to the stump but the thought of stabbing himself in the thigh during a battle changed his mind.

  As he swung his mighty club, he realized he needed no other weapon. He’d brought down Z.E.D.s, zombies of all species, and cannibals, lots of cannibals. His team was currently out raiding and came across this group. Chuck’s group usually raided Z.E.D.s and abandoned buildings for supplies but occasionally, they raided cannibals. There wasn’t much from the ghouls they would actually salvage. They felt they were doing a public service. They had all been affected by them, some way or another, and it brought them closer and made them a force to be reckoned with. Although there was a high cannibal price on Chuck’s head, he shrugged it off and dared them to come and get him. A group of twelve cannibals had crossed their path, looking for a payout; instead they found death.

  Chuck’s squad consisted of four men and two women. In less than fifteen minutes, all twelve lay dead on the ground; most were missing their heads. The sounds of battle, though brief, had attracted some unwanted attention. Chuck and his group were much further southwest than the compound and there was a larger concentration of mutant zombies there due to the radiation. Three of them came lumbering from behind the dead and dying trees. They weren’t much larger than regular zombies were, but they had sharp points protruding from their decaying skin at random parts of their bodies. If you were pulled into those points, you were dead. Their eyes were solid orbs of red. They gnashed their teeth and stumbled faster at the group.

  “Come on little doggie,” Edd said, with a come on gesture as he backed off, separating one from the others.

  It had no clue about the hand gesture but it zoomed in on him like a magnet.

  “I’ve got mine!” he called out laughing. “Who gets the others?”

  Em laughed and gave him the finger, “I’ll be nice and share. Susan, would you care to join me?” They both darted in the opposite direction and were rewarded with a new admirer.

  “Want me to get this one?” JJ asked Chuck as the last one stumbled closer.

  Chuck didn’t move or say a word. He blinked and Kerry and JJ jumped out of the way, knowing from experience what was going to happen. Chuck bellowed as he swung the club up and over his head, twisting his wrist to employ one of the large spikes. It penetrated the mutant’s head and sank all the way. Chuck had put his full strength behind the swing and the mutant’s head squashed outwards, spraying green pus-covered brain matter and bone shards. The downward motion kept it going through the neck then stopped in its chest. The body sank around the club and hung there, like a costume on a hook. He put up a boot and pulled the club out, the body dropping to the ground. He grinned as he looked over at both women to see them working together, taking down the mutant that was much larger than either of them.

  Em swung her club, similar to Chuck’s but lighter and with more spikes. She smacked the side of the mutant’s left knee and its leg collapsed. As soon as it fell, she moved to the side and bashed its other knee. The second it hit the ground Susan used her short sword and impaled it in the back of the head.

  Movement ceased and green pus oozed from the wound. They both rubbed their weapons on the ground to clean them off. Chuck held up his club and inspected it. He preferred to let the infected blood dry on the spikes and blade. He figured if he hit a human target, preferably the man-eating kind, and didn’t kill them outright, the r
esidue would kill them anyway. Edd was having a harder time with his mutant zombie, but that was the way he liked it. He used his axes to chop off both arms.

  “Stop playing with it!” Susan shouted, laughing.

  “Spoiled sport,” he muttered, then spun around with both axes extended. The top one sliced the mutant’s head in half while the bottom one decapitated it. All the parts fell to the ground with several thuds.

  They confiscated the little amount that was salvageable without even glancing at the food; they knew what it was made of.

  “Too bad we can’t find a way to control the zombies and have them wipe out the cannibals,” Kerry suggested.

  Chuck had this thought many times and thought how poetic it would be for cannibals to be eaten alive themselves. Even the thought of it again made him smile.

  They carried all the supplies to their pickup truck and loaded it into the attached tool box, then all of them but Chuck and Susan climbed into the bed, sitting on the installed benches. Susan drove while Chuck kept a lookout until they pulled up to their small compound.

  “You don’t look any worse for wear!” The guard, Richie, called out as he let them in. Chuck reached in his pocket and tossed a pocketknife to him.

  “Thanks!” He said, “You know, my last one just wore out.”

  He said this to Chuck and his raiders every time they came back from scavenging. Chuck wondered what he would say now that he finally had his replacement.

  Their group of raiders was much smaller than most others that were scattered around the wasted and destroyed country. When Chuck and his team left on a mission, there were six others trained well enough to defend the compound if they were attacked. There were only just over two dozen residing there. They were better supplied than most because of this but the fear of an invasion loomed over all their heads every time Chuck’s group went out. Chuck handpicked his group and trained them based on their strengths. They were good and they knew it; some said they were very cocky, so they were named just that. Every member of Cocky had different specialties but Chuck wouldn’t allow them to get tunnel vision in their fighting skills. He made sure everyone knew a little of every style of fighting. He passed on the best skills that he himself learned from the Z.E.D.s; the only thing from them he brought with him.

  The moment they walked through the door, their small community rushed forward to see what they found. Even the two dogs, Holly and Gracie, came running to jump on them and lick their faces; they were shooed away until they could clean off all possible infected fluids. As far as anyone knew, these two Golden Retrievers were the only known uninfected dogs. They were both female so unless they could find some males, it looked like the species was doomed to extinction.

  The eldest of their group, Shirley, came forward with a bag of candy as prizes for the children to guess what the raiders had in their pockets. They had actually turned it into a game for the kids. Each child was allowed one guess and all those that guessed correctly got a piece of candy. One of the prizes they found in a past scavenge was a case of hard candy from a destroyed warehouse store. They were looking for canned goods and found candy, which was even better, at least in the children’s eyes. The Raiders each had one piece, then agreed to save the rest for the children and ration it carefully. Shirley came up with the idea of the guessing game.

  “A pocketknife?” asked six-year-old Kenny.

  Chuck and the others looked at each other before Em said, “Actually, yes, we did find one but gave it to Richie. So, it still counts!”

  Kenny bounced gleefully and ran to Shirley with his hands cupped in anticipation of his prize. Three other children were correct in their guesses and Chuck kept a mental note on the losers and planned to visit them later in secret with candy. He did this every time and so far, not one child had blurted the truth to anyone. Edd ran up to a thin blond woman and they walked off to the baths together. Susan met up with her lover, Sol, and both women walked in the same direction. As the rest of Cocky moved to be with their loved ones, Chuck simply walked to his room alone.

  He always let the rest of his team clean up first, so it was over an hour before Chuck could fill up his bucket with fresh water. One of the secrets of this compound was the discovery of an underground river. They were sure this used to be one of those survival lodges even back before the virus. There was a large kitchen and common area and hallways with small living quarters. There was even a supply room. The river they discovered later. They put in a hand pump and had fresh water when they needed, but still needed to ration it carefully. They didn’t want to rely on a river that ran now but could run dry or become undrinkable. No one wasted water in this compound. When Chuck was brought here, he was happily surprised to find out about the river and it was his idea to start storing it. One of the things they always looked for when they were out raiding were containers with caps. Old Gatorade jugs were the best. Every day they pumped one container full and put it in storage.

  Finally, it was Chuck’s turn to go into the shower room to clean off. When he was done, he got some candy from Shirley, sneaking from room to room, distributing candy to those who lost the guessing game. Feeling better after the wash and the happy little faces, he slipped into his bed and fell into his dreams. He woke, gasping against his nightmare, grabbing for an arm that was no longer there. He only had phantom pains after a nightmare.

  Chapter Seven – Spring 2033

  “But Daddy, you can’t leave,” sixteen year old Jeri begged her father weakly.

  “There are at least eight of them,” Chuck said to her, prepping the shack. “I don’t think they saw me but they were headed this way.”

  As soon as he went back upstairs, the sofa was going over the door and he would be out the door and running.

  “I’m scared Daddy,” she cried. Since she’d gotten sick a few months ago, she’d lost too much weight and gotten weaker by the day. He moved their sleeping arrangements underground because he was afraid he’d never get her down there in time if the wrong people came by.

  He ran over to her and kissed her feverish forehead. If only he’d been able to find the medicinal herbs he was looking for before the cannibals were seen.

  “I’ll be back as soon as I lead them away.”

  “But what if you get caught?” she sobbed.

  “I haven’t yet,” he teased her. “Don’t jinx it now. Look, I have to go. Remember, not a sound; not even if you hear noises up there and think it’s me. If it’s me, I’ll come down and get you. I’ll be back. I promise. I love you, baby.”

  “I love you too, Daddy,” and with those words he was gone.

  He dragged his feet a little as he ran from the shack, careful to leave a clear trail for them to pick up. It worked just as planned. He was just far enough away to have a good head start but close enough for them to see his tail end running away; praying they never even saw the shack. He kept running for two days, changing direction every six hours or so. He hoped they’d be giving up soon; they were a determined group of scum. When he deemed it safe enough that he lost them he started heading back. It almost worked just as planned… Almost. He paused to rest when he recognized some familiar landmarks. He smiled, knowing he was almost home.

  Suddenly a zombie snake slithered out and lunged at him, pus and poison dripped from the freakishly long fangs.

  “Shit!” he yelled involuntarily, as he pulled out his machete and tripped at the same time, trying to avoid being bitten. He smacked his head hard on the ground and stayed conscious long enough to lop off the head of the snake. He finally lost consciousness while he watched the snake’s body flipping around reflexively.

  When he woke, he had no idea how much time had passed or where he was. His arms felt like they were made of stone, and he realized they were tied behind his back and he was up against a tree. His legs were also tied together and staked to the ground.

  The shack!

  He looked around for any sign of his daughter and was relieved that she wasn’t in sight.
He could see cages a little ways off that had people in them but he couldn’t make out any faces. He prayed that Jeri wasn’t inside any of them.

  “Well, well, well,” he heard mockingly, “the meat wakes up.”

  He turned to see a cannibal with blackened teeth and a deep diagonal scar on his forehead standing over him.

  “We could have eaten you while you were out,” another spoke up, “but what’s the fun in that?”

  The one with blackened teeth kneeled down and pulled out a wickedly sharp serrated knife.

  “Are we having fun yet?” he laughed.

  It took six men on each side of him to hold him still when they untied an arm. Another four had to jump in when they cut off his left arm.

  Chapter Eight – 2035

  Chuck’s worn out sheets were drenched in sweat as he clutched them in his fists. “Fucking cannibals,” he muttered, staring at the ceiling, tears running down the sides of his head.

  It took three cups of the swill that was instant coffee to get him going that morning. He walked through the common area sipping the black dregs and stopped outside. Leaning against the wall, he enjoyed the morning sun. Several people were pulling weeds up from the garden. They found some more tomato and lettuce seeds in a recent raid and, while they weren’t sure they were any good, planted them hopefully. Two children walked up to them with some sticks that were about two feet long.

  Must be for the tomatoes.

  He sipped again and decided to go help.

  “You really don’t have to do a thing,” said Shirley, who was on her knees, looking up at him. “You do all the dangerous work, we can handle this. Besides, I love gardening. Relax for a change.”

  Chuck shrugged and wandered aimlessly, feeling helpless. Maybe this is why he went out so much. He didn’t know what to do with leisure time. He went back to his room, bent down to smell his sheets, and scrunched his nose at the odor. He took them off his bed and out to the drying lines. They couldn’t use water as often as they’d like to wash sheets or clothes but they hung them up outside weekly to air them out. He was surprised how much this helped the first time he tried it.