by Joseph Souza
“What are you implying?”
“It’s coming, Thomas, like a monster hurricane spinning in the Atlantic. The pollen from that island has no doubt spread the virus. Look at the world. Look outside your door at the birds, the animals and the plant life. Everything is out of whack and sickly. It’s only a matter of time before the plague arrives. The world as we currently know it is too weak and corrupted by its moral shortcomings to stop this global invasion of the dead. They will soon be bearing down upon us. The tenets of most religious scriptures tell us that only a few will survive: the chosen ones.”
“The government dropped a nuclear device in the area we just vacated. I witnessed the mushroom cloud myself as we were speeding towards Boston. Do you think that explosion would be enough to stop the virus from spreading?”
“Hardly. It may only act to slow it down. Radiation won’t matter one iota to the dead. In fact, radiation may actually speed up this transformative process. This is a spiritual apocalypse of the highest order. The meek will inherit the earth, Thomas. It’s been prophesied in the Bible and alluded to by the Mayans and Egyptians. Every religious tenet mentions it. Quite possibly in this equation is the solution to the world’s problems as well.”
“What do you mean?”
“If the meek will inherit the earth,” he limped towards the door, “maybe the meek will inherit heaven along with it. And maybe it will be our ultimate salvation.” He looked wild-eyed.
“What are you talking about?”
“It’s in the Bible. Luke 13:28. ‘There shall be weeping and gnashing of teeth, when ye shall see Abraham, and Isaac, and Jacob, and all the prophets, in the kingdom of God, and you yourselves thrust out.’ They’re talking about Judgment Day.”
He started to walk towards the back door.
“Where are you going?”
“To die a humble death. I’ve asked God for forgiveness and made peace with Him for the crimes I’ve committed. It’s up to Him now.” He turned to me. “I have just enough gas saved to expedite matters. I want to ensure that I will never become one of the walking dead.”
“Travel west with us instead, Doc. Help us put Rick’s journal in good hands.”
“I’d never make it. Besides, you need to take care of yourself and that young son of yours,” he said, running his hand through Devin’s wild hair. “Your brother’s current experimentation must have been funded by someone higher up in the military or government, Thomas. This was much bigger than just one organic dirt farmer experimenting with his crops.”
“You really believe that?”
“Think about it. There’s no way your brother could have conducted all those experiments on his own. The fact that they nuked the area tells you everything you need to know. Someone was watching over him, encouraging him, maybe hoping to make weapons out of the technology he created.”
He limped out the door and down the alley, past the sick and dead, past the blood-stained varmints scurrying about with flesh hanging loosely from their fangs. I slammed the door shut, nailed all the boards back in place, and then returned to the couch. Devin came over and sat next to me. I put my arm around his skinny shoulder and hugged him. Kate came over and sat on my other side, resting her head in my lap. They felt like family to me now; the only thing I had left in the world. I felt hopeless to do anything more here in Boston. I looked down at Devin, patted Kate’s hair, and wondered what to do next. Devin was still covered in soot and dirt, and feistier than any kid I ever knew. I wondered about Kate and the two children. What would happen to them, to all of us?
After a few minutes passed, I stopped feeling sorry for myself and began to devise a plan. If the dead would inherit the earth, then so be it. I would not go quietly into the night. I would fight to live with every fiber in my being. We’d made it this far after all, and I had the goal of reuniting with my wife and son. And I had Devin, Kate, Emily and Amber to consider. They depended on me now more than ever. I wanted to live. It would require cunning and skills I did not yet possess. Like Dar, I would need to learn new tricks if we were to survive in this changed world. And we were the lucky ones. We had guns, some food, a truck filled with gas. More importantly, we had knowledge of the hellish future that awaited the world, and we had adequate time to prepare for it. We would go west. It was our manifest destiny.
I told Kate and Devin to be ready because we’d be leaving soon. They didn’t argue nor did they ask how we were going to accomplish this, since there was only one truck. Despite the threat posed by the cloud of radiation bearing down on us, we would slip out later that night before it was too late. Better to take our chances with radiation sickness than to be imprisoned inside this condo without food and water, and surrounded by thousands of hungry flesh eaters.
We gathered our things quietly so that Dar and Thorn wouldn’t be suspicious. I’d hidden a bottle of whiskey in my pack, which I knew would make Thorn happy once I presented it to him as a gift. I opened the cap and added a dozen tablets worth of crushed codeine that I’d liberated from the farmstead. Rick had maintained a large supply of painkillers in the event of serious injuries. We waited patiently, biding our time. When night came, I walked upstairs and delivered the bottle to Thorn as a present. He was beside himself with joy upon seeing it, and I was certain he would drink most of the bottle in one sitting. I unscrewed the top and poured each of them a shot, and then thanked them for everything they had done for us. The two of them laughed and made jokes at my expense. Dar reclined on the couch, resting, weeks from giving birth. I walked off and allowed them their privacy. Once downstairs, we sat and waited patiently. We could hear them partying through the night, even though Dar was a light drinker and due to give birth very soon. She was the one I was nervous about.
They partied late. As hard as she tried to stay awake, Kate fell asleep about the same time as the kids. Devin and I waited at the bottom of the stairs, listening for any sign that they’d quieted down. Upon hearing footsteps coming down the stairs, we ran back to the couch and pretended to be playing cards. Our bags were packed and ready to go in the other room, hidden from view. Thorn stumbled into the living room, pulling out his pistol and firing it into the ceiling. I walked over to him.
“You need to be more responsible, Thorn. You’re going to be a father very soon.”
“Styx is destined for greatness,” he slurred, pointing a finger in my chest. He could barely remain upright, he was so drunk.
“That kid is my grandchild.”
“Dude,” he whispered, “that kid is a prophet. A savior like Jesus H. Christ.”
“Oh?”
“A virgin birth, dude.”
“A virgin birth? But haven’t you and Dar been…”
“That’s the craziest part. We never did it,” he whispered in my ear. “And Dar swore to me that she never made it with no other dudes, either.”
The news floored me.
“It’s a goddamn miracle. A virgin birth. Styx is the savior.”
He took a sip from his glass and again drunkenly fired the pistol into the living room. The shot rang out and echoed in the sweltering room. Thorn suddenly toppled to the floor in a puddle of sweat and remained there. I squatted down and realized that he’d passed out. When I was certain he was unconscious, I reached inside his pocket and pulled out the keys to the truck.
I went upstairs to visit Dar one last time. She was reclined on the couch, and despite the heat, she had pulled a blanket up to her chin. On the broken table next to her, I noticed the half-filled tumbler of whiskey. I moved her ax to the head of the couch and knelt down next to her and held her small hand. Despite fear of reprisal, I ran my other hand through her moist hair. She opened her blurry eyes and looked at me, and for the first time in months, I saw the vulnerable young girl that was once my daughter. I looked past all the tattoos and violent piercings and saw her for the child she once was rather than the coldhearted killer she had now become. Tears dripped from her eyes as she stared helplessly at me, her father and one
-time protector who had failed miserably at keeping her safe. I continued to brush the hair back on her sweaty scalp. I kissed her scarred forehead and gazed lovingly into her eyes.
“I’m sorry for everything, Dar. I love you so much.”
Then she mouthed the words that sent a dagger through my heart.
I forgive you. I love you.
I got up and left her before I had a change of heart. Tomorrow everything would be different. Tomorrow she would revert back to what she had become and the fierce woman she would grow into. She would thrive with or without me. But would the rest of us be able to survive living under her despotic rule? I didn’t believe we could. And I had more than just myself to worry about now. More importantly, I needed to find my family.
With the set of keys in hand, Devin and I grabbed our bags and moved stealthily out the back door. I took one of the M16s and a pistol, and left the other for Dar and Thorn so that they could protect themselves from the oncoming plague. Before I departed, I removed Rick’s snarling head, unwrapped the towel around his mouth, and left it for them over the fireplace as a gift. I would have loved to see their faces when they came upon it come morning.
The sun was just coming up as we went outside. I opened the garage door quietly, and we all piled into the truck. I turned the ignition and drove it out the door, running over the dead and dying sprawled in the alley. I prayed to God for mercy as I did. Once we reached the street, I noticed that there were hardly any other cars on the road. The masses marched forward, sick, tired, and destitute. They stared up at us with fear in their eyes, begging for alms: children, women, the elderly, the sick and crippled. The air felt dense and oppressive, and I wondered if that cloud of radiation had already descended upon us. Soon, many of these people would be dead—only to be reawakened. A few would survive, and the meek would inherit the earth.
Devin stood in the truck bed, armed and dangerous, and used the butt of the rifle to keep the desperate stragglers at bay. I turned off Mass Avenue and onto the Massachusetts Turnpike. Though filled with wrecked cars, the three-lane highway appeared barren and desolate as I accelerated the truck westward, watching in the rearview mirror as the burning, ruined city receded from view.
The journals! I suddenly realized that I’d left my three handwritten journals back at the house. The loss of that work devastated me. I’d been writing in them earlier in the day and had forgotten to return them to my backpack. The only journal I’d taken with me was Rick’s, which I had not yet sat down to read. It was too late to turn back and retrieve them; they were lost to me forever. That part of my life could never be reconstructed in the same way.
Angry, I cursed the creator who had made us. Maybe God was not a benevolent God after all. Maybe He had sent these terrible creatures down to earth as a punishment for our wicked ways. Only a chosen few would survive. Possibly like the rapture, which I had always found ridiculous, maybe only a few would enter the kingdom of heaven. That meant the rest of us would burn in hell.
I saw the Hancock and Prudential buildings recede from view, the top half of their columns engulfed in flames.
Very shortly, the dead would prevail. I felt sorry for my daughter and her unborn child. I felt sorry that Thorn was not the father. The child’s father, I realized to my horror, was the man in the parking lot who had raped her. Fitting that he had turned into one of those dead fuckers. I didn’t have the heart to tell Thorn that his child was no savior and that her pregnancy was not a virgin birth. Before long, the entire world would be teeming with these festering monsters—Styx, her newborn child was at risk. I looked around at my fellow travelers inside the cabin, wondering which of us would be redeemed and which of us would suffer eternal wrath.
Emily started to sob hysterically as I sped westward on the turnpike. Kate did all she could to try to calm her, but it appeared futile. Emily seemed to be suffering some kind of nervous breakdown.
“What’s wrong, Emily?” Kate asked. “What’s wrong, hon?”
“Those dead things are coming for us again,” she screamed. “They’re coming back to eat us!”
And then for some strange reason, my attention shifted to Emily, who was still crying. She was the one! The revelation struck me like a lightning bolt. She’d been the only person I knew who’d contracted the virus and had lived to tell about it. The message of the chosen ones now resonated in my head and seemed to make complete sense. Maybe Emily was the one who would help us build a new society based on morality and righteousness. I stared at her with newfound respect as we sped ahead. I placed my hand on her flushed cheek, letting it dampen with her salty tears. She immediately stopped crying and looked at me, smiling, all knowing, joyful. I smiled back at her, steering the car along the deserted turnpike and further out of the city. Emily was the chosen one who would lead us forth. Kate glanced over at me and nodded appreciatively at my calming touch.
The notion of Emily’s newly discovered status suddenly set me free, and for the first time in a long time, I felt optimistic about our chances on this earth and finding my family. I stepped on the gas and sped west, a newfound optimism filling my soul.
The End
Excerpt from The Living Dead Trilogy Book II:
Darpocalypse
by
Joseph Souza
Chapter 1
THREE HELICOPTERS FLEW IN FORMATION OVER the Cedar Junction nuclear plant, each carrying eleven members of the Delta Force. Colonel Gritz gazed down upon the nuclear facility, making a mental map of the entire complex. Two rivers intersected at the rear of the plant, creating a man-made reservoir that provided the cooling waters for the nuclear reactors.
Jumping had always made Gritz nervous, even though he’d done it hundreds of times and in the heat of the most fierce battles. He waited a few seconds, gave the signal with his arm, and then jumped. As soon as he fell out of the chopper, the rest of his men followed in rapid succession. He gazed down at the ground as his chute opened, immediately halting his momentum. He recalled the vague instructions General Wallace had given him on that plane. Take control of the plant! Never before had he been given such an important mission with so few details.
Twenty-four hours ago, he and his men had been fighting in the hills of Afghanistan when he’d been ordered back to the States. They hustled him and his men on a plane and quickly got them out of the country. No sooner did they become air-bound than General Wallace pulled up next to him and began giving him the details of his mission. What initially came to Gritz’s mind was that another terrorist plot had been discovered. He’d been briefed inside the plane and given their assignment, which seemed simple: secure the Cedar Junction nuclear facility at all costs.
As he descended toward earth, he noticed that there were less than two dozen cars in the parking lot. Where had everyone gone? It seemed that there were far less workers than he would have expected for an important facility like this. But then again, he knew little about nuclear power or its inner workings. He gazed around at the complex, estimating that he was roughly five hundred yards from touching ground. He looked around again and noticed that the entire facility was surrounded by a ten-foot chain-link fence. But the front gate was open wide. He wondered why security hadn’t properly secured it.
Unless the terrorists already had infiltrated the plant!
Gritz glanced over his shoulder and noticed that his men were about to land in perfect formation. As soon as their boots hit the ground, they were supposed to pair up and take their assigned positions along the fence. Once safely on the ground, he needed to assess the situation quickly and then communicate the next phase of the plan to his men. The only problem was that he hadn’t fully fleshed out that next phase. Although his superiors had kept mum on the threat facing them, Gritz had assumed that the facility was under some sort of bio-terrorist threat.
He was nearly one hundred yards from the ground when he saw a figure emerge from the trees. It didn’t seem to be moving in any hurry. Gritz lifted his M4A1 assault rifle and po
inted it down towards the clump where the terrorist had hidden. At roughly one hundred feet, he noticed a large group of people swarming out of the trees and standing below him, their arms raised. What the hell were they doing? The closer he got to the ground, the more depraved they appeared to him. They seemed diseased, possibly suffering from the debilitating effects of radiation poisoning. He wondered if the terrorists had broken through and destroyed the reactor? He’d never considered the possibility that he might be entering a hot facility and that his own life was in jeopardy. The people below him cried out loudly, and he could hear their desperate moans. Paralyzed with indecision, he wondered what to do as he prepared to land in their awaiting arms.
Screw it!
He removed the rifle from his back and pointed it at them, shouting at the top of his lungs to move. When they failed to take heed of his warning, he fired off a round to scare them away. Still, the warning shot did nothing to deter them. He aimed directly at the mob, warning them in no uncertain terms to move or else he would shoot. When they failed to act, he fired his weapon. Their heads exploded in a fine mist of blood and brain matter, and they fell dead to the ground. As soon as his feet hit the dirt, he performed a perfect running landing, quickly cutting loose the chute with his knife before turning toward the facility.
But what he saw confounded him. A few of the people who had been shot stood up and began to stagger in his direction. What the hell was that all about? He warned them to stop, but once again, they seemed oblivious to the rifle in his hands. He warned them one last time, but they ignored his directions and continued to move toward him. Startled, he fired a quick burst into their chests, enough firepower to stop an elephant. They staggered and twisted as the rounds riddled their bodies, but just as soon as it was over, they got back up again and continued to walk towards him. He fired another burst and watched as their heads exploded in a shower of blood. This time they didn’t get up.
