by Kidd, Sean
The Beginning of the End
Book 2
Road to Damnation
A novel
By
Sean Kidd
This novel is part 2 in The Beginning of the End series. If you haven’t read the first yet, you can find it at: http://www.amazon.com/gp/product/B00W4D250O
THE BEGINNING OF THE END
Book 2
ROAD TO DAMNATION
COPYRIGHT © 2016 by Sean Kidd
All rights reserved. This book is licensed for the personal enjoyment of the original purchaser only. This book may not be resold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. Thank you for respecting the work of this author.
The characters and events portrayed in this book are a work of fiction or are used fictitiously. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is coincidental and not intended by the author.
Cover Design and Layout
Paramita at Creative Paramita
www.creativeparamita.com
Ebook and Print formatting
Jesse Gordon
adarnedgoodbook.com
A special thank you to my proofreaders
Michael J. Bergman
and
Charlie Wolff
Thanks to Casey Skelton
at
Wasteland Book Editing Services
http://cskelton4965.wix.com/wasteland-editing
for all the advice and help on both books.
Thanks to Danielle
at
Danielle Pascale’s Editing Services
[email protected]
for the time and effort you put into both books.
Table of Contents
The Beginning of the End, Part 2: Road to Damnation
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Chapter 39
Chapter 40
Chapter 41
Chapter 42
Chapter 43
Chapter 44
Chapter 45
Chapter 46
Chapter 47
Chapter 48
Chapter 49
Chapter 50
Chapter 51
Chapter 52
Chapter 53
Chapter 54
A very special thank you to my wife, Jennifer. For all those nights I threw printed chapters at you, begging you to read and correct them. Your opinions and suggestions helped shape my novels. If it weren't for your tireless efforts, I would have never made it through my first two books.
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The Beginning of the End
Part 2
Road to Damnation
Rays of light passed through the edges of the door into the dark room. Dead creatures pounded from the other side. A hunger deep inside of them forced groans out of their stinking rotten mouths. The sounds of terror sent chills down the spines of the two policemen who desperately pushed against the old wooden door, trying to keep the creatures out. They were unaware the piercing screams in the room were coming from their own mouths.
A monstrous man stood behind them in silence, watching, ready to answer their call for help if it came. Bulging muscles and intimidating tattoos added to the horror of his nearly seven-foot frame. His hardened chiseled body, transformed from spending a majority of his adult life behind bars. No less intimidating than the full neck and tattooed arm sleeves was the pair of black handcuffs binding his wrists together.
The rookie cop felt the convict’s massive shoulder drive his lightweight frame off the door, “Why don’t you take a break there, kid. This is man’s work,” he said with a gritty smirk.
The convict slammed his back against the door while raising his restrained wrists to the rookie cop, “It’d be a hell of a lot easier if you’d take off these damn handcuffs,” he said with an innocent smile.
The older cop, supporting two chevrons on his sleeve, glanced at the handcuffed man and didn’t say a word. He glared back at the younger cop, “Do it, Cooper.”
Cooper questioned the order throwing his open palms in the air, “But Corporal he’s…”
Before he could get out another word, the Corporal roared, “That’s an order, rookie. Take the cuffs off.”
Cooper didn’t like the order but did it without question.
With the added weight of the convict against the door, the dead lost the advantage and gave up ground. “Give me another inch and I can slide the deadbolt closed,” the Corporal pleaded. A mighty push from the convict, and the door slammed shut. A click of the lock told them they were safe for the time being.
The Corporal turned away from the door and eyed the room. He wondered how he had ended up here with this group of scared people. Four strangers whom, if not for these unexplainable events, he would have had never met.
With his guard down, the Corporal felt the air rush out of his lungs as a rotting fist smashed through the weakened door, striking him square in the chest. He fell backwards and tumbled onto his ass knocking his head against the wall. The lock gave way freeing the door, the dead were again gaining the advantage. They began to push harder and in larger numbers. The convict slammed his shoulder against the opening door, but was off balance and lost his footing. This fight was quickly turning into a losing battle. All the weight of the dead pushing against the door was too much for one man, no matter his size.
The door swung open pushing the convict back on his heels.
Corporal Daniels was still trying to get up off his ass. He leaned back and pulled his Police issued Sig Sauer 229 from his holster and fired into the crowd of dead. The two rounds struck the first dead man in the chest.
It didn’t phase him; he kept coming. Daniels lifted his arm higher and pulled the trigger a third time. He watched as the .40 caliber round traveled through the man’s skull leaving a dime-sized hole in his forehead, briefly allowing a tunnel of daylight to shine through. The dead man collapsed to the floor at the Corporal’s feet.
The veteran officer thought back all those years ago when he first joined the police force. That hot summer week he’d spent on the shooting range, where his instructors referred to his technique as the Mozambique Drill. Two in the chest and one in the head for close quarters combat. He had never used it until now, and he knew it would bother him the rest of his life. No matter how short that may be.
“They’re fucking zombies!” the convict screamed as he snatched a lamp from a nearby de
sk, striking an attacking dead woman on the temple. She dropped her head and clutched onto the convict’s shirt.
He jumped back toppling over the edge of the desk he had stolen the lamp from, taking the zombie with him. They landed on the floor, the dead woman on top of him. He held the dead woman’s neck, fending off the attack. She snapped her teeth and clawed at his shirt pulling her way on top of the convict. He was mesmerized as her zombie face neared, fixated on those hypnotizing blue swirling irises.
Time seemed to slow, as cold black blood and ooze erupted from the dead woman, covering the convict’s face. It was almost a full second later before he realized the zombie’s head exploded. He rolled over to see Cooper, the young rookie cop, standing there with a shotgun in his hands. He was screaming, “Get up and fight! Destroy their brains, it’s the only way to kill them!”
An aging hooker huddled in the corner of the room watched as the three men put on a show of blood and carnage. Blood splattered across the walls and floor. She held her chest, but still couldn’t catch her breath. Her ears rang from the gunshots and the piercing screams of a petrified woman. The assault continued as the men neared victory and the hooker slowed her breathing. It was only then she realized, it had been her screaming all along.
All but two of the zombies were dead. Both of them had lost their lower limbs and were clawing their way toward the Corporal.
Cooper stood over one of the creeping zombies, lowered his shotgun, and dropped a round in the back of its head. The remaining bit of life left the creature.
Cooper looked over at the Corporal, “That’s it. I’m out.”
The Corporal, off the floor now, stood over the last zombie and pointed his .40 caliber Sig Sauer at the monster’s brainpan. He pulled the trigger, not realizing the Sig’s slide was locked back, “Shit, I’m empty too, Coop.” He glanced back over his shoulder at the convict with a smirk on his face, “You still got your lamp, convict?” The three men released a stress filled chuckle, but the moment of levity ended when the zombie at the Corporal’s feet snatched his ankle. The dead man yanked on his boot, pulling it in close to his mouth while chomping his jaws. Vile remnants of teeth were no match for the steel toed combat boot. The Corporal yanked his foot away, slamming his heel onto the zombie’s skull. From a distance, it would have looked as though he was trying to squish a giant spider. When his attack ended, the head resembled the aftermath of an inattentive rabbit crossing the freeway.
The Corporal stepped back from the zombie and leaned against the wall, trying to catch his breath, “I guess I’m not as young as I used to be.”
He gave the other two men the nod, letting them know he was all right. With the threats eliminated, he reached into his pocket and pulled out his phone. He tapped the screen, choosing the name and raised the device to his ear.
Seconds passed, and nothing happened. He leaned back, closed his eyes, and took in a deep breath, “Please work,” he begged.
A few more seconds ticked away, he began to lower the phone from his ear. He slid his thumb over the END button when he heard a click.
Frustration turned to relief when the static gave way to a broken ring, then a second.
“Please answer this time,” he pleaded with the device.
Three, four, five rings. There was no answer. A garbled voice recording came on. It was full of static, but he knew he had connected to the right phone when he heard his son’s name on the message, “Ty. Ty, It’s Dad. Can you hear me? I’m trapped in a building in Manhattan. I’m with some people. We’ve joined together to fight. There are dead everywhere. You need to get us some help. Ty, can you hear me?” Then the phone went dead.
Chapter 1
Someone was talking to me, but I couldn’t tell you whom it was. My head was throbbing and my vision blurred, I needed time to think. I wanted to be alone and made my way toward the twisted pile of steel, which was once our stolen Humvee.
It had saved our asses, and now it lay there wrecked, with .50 caliber bullet holes scattered through its shell, allowing light into its darkened interior.
Disappearing around to the backside, out of the sight of curious eyes, I rested my throbbing forehead against the cool metal.
Breathe in through the nose, out through the mouth, I kept telling myself. I fought the good fight, but it didn’t work, and I hurled all over the front of my shirt.
I felt a cool hand touch the back of my neck and jerked away. Looking back I saw the woman who had always been there for me. I lay my head back on the Humvee absorbing the cold into my forehead as her always comforting words came from her lips, “It will be okay, Ty. We’re going to find your father. I promise you.”
I twisted my head trying not to lift it from the radiating coolness. My mom was standing there. She pushed the hair from my eyes and gave me a reassuring smile.
I tried to smile back but couldn’t seem to do it, “How did all this happen, Mom?”
I could feel a tear running down my cheek. The anxiety of almost losing mom, the lack of contact with dad, and avoiding death had taken its toll, and finally released.
She rubbed the tear away with the back of her finger as she answered me, “I don’t know, honey. But it will be all right. You need to stay strong. These people are looking to you for answers. It’s up to you and Chevy now, to help keep us all alive, and get us to your father. What did he say in his message? Is he okay?”
I pulled the phone from my back pocket and replayed the message for her. She listened, taking in a deep breath, and trying to keep her composure, “Well, it sounds like we’re going to New York.”
I stuffed the phone back in my pocket and worked up the courage to pull my head off the Humvee, not sure if it was the cool metal or Mom’s words that made my head feel better.
Rubbing my finger across one of the bullet holes in the jagged steel of the wrecked Humvee, I pulled it away examining the black gunpowder residue left on my skin, “This thing is in tatters. Kane made sure of that. How are we supposed to get there?” My head dropped as that hopeless feeling surged through me. I felt sorry for myself again.
She lifted my chin, forcing me to make eye contact with her, “Ty, now you listen, and listen well. This little band of misfits you’ve put together looks up to you. You’re their leader now. They’d follow you to hell and back if you asked. If we’re heading to New York City where there are all those dead people, then they may have to do that. Now you get your shit together, walk over there, and give them the plan. They’re waiting for you.”
She was right. Somehow I became their leader, and now I had to go over there and beg them for their help.
Mom put her hands on my cheeks and gave me a kiss on my forehead, “It’s time, honey. Now wipe the puke off your shirt and go over there and talk to your friends.”
I watched as my mom walked away smiling. Apparently, even with everything going on, she still managed to keep her sense of humor.
After a few deep breaths, I collected myself and wiped my shirt off on the side of the Humvee. Moving around to the edge of the wrecked vehicle, I watched as my newly acquired friends stood there, waiting for my return.
Across the median, Cowboy was tending to the man on the ground, one of Kane’s henchmen, who was regaining consciousness. I headed in his direction wondering what we were going to do with him.
“So what’s the story with him?” I asked, pointing at the bleeding man on the ground.
Cowboy looked beaten and bruised, even more so than the man on the ground. It seemed funny he’d be helping him after the beating Kane and Tommy had just inflicted on him.
While watching blood drip from Cowboy’s face, a thought passed through my mind; he might be one of the toughest men I had ever met.
Cowboy took the man’s chin in his hand and turned his face up toward mine as he spoke, “Ty, this is Luther. One of the assholes who followed that psychotic bastard Kane around town like a little puppy. Luther, this is, Ty. He’s the man in charge of us good guys. He decides if you
’re going to live or die, and if it were up to me…. it’d be the latter.”
Cowboy twisted Luther’s head back toward his, so they were staring face-to-face, “Do you want to know what I think, Luther? I think we should tie you to the side of that wrecked Humvee and let all those dead eat you alive. What do you think about that?”
Luther yanked his head away from Cowboy’s hand, screaming and pleading with me, “Please, no! I promise I’ll never hurt anyone again. I want to be a good guy too.”
I squinted at Cowboy and thought to myself, is that what we were, good guys? This whole time I was under the impression we were just survivors.
By now everyone had gathered around behind me. They were watching, curious what my next move would be. I turned to address the group; unsure of what I was going to say, then it sort of came out.
“This man is Luther, he tried to kill all of us. With everything going on in this screwed up world, he felt the need to kidnap women, torture them, and kill them. He killed my neighbor’s friend, Sarah, and would have killed my mother too, if we hadn’t saved her.”
“I never killed anyone,” Luther interrupted, “I had nowhere else to go. I was alone and afraid and did what I was told, to stay alive.”
My misfits, men and women alike, all wanted him dead, but something resonated with what he said, “No place else to go, and afraid to be alone.”
We were all lost and afraid now, and none of us wanted to be alone either. The comforts of life we use to take advantage of didn’t exist any longer.
I looked into each of their somber faces as I spoke, “This world has changed. Death is around every corner now. You each have a decision to make, and it’s your decision alone. I don’t want to influence you in any way. We can stick together, and help each other, or you can go your own way. My mom and I are going to find my father, and that’s a burden I cannot ask any of you to undertake. He’s in New York City. There are eight million people in that place, and I’m willing to bet most of them have turned into those dead things. After I save him, I plan on helping Sophie get her cure to Atlanta. The three of us are leaving today. If anyone wants to join us, we’d love to have you, but because of the danger, I’m not going to ask you to come.”
