Undead Worlds 2: A Post-Apocalyptic Zombie Anthology

by Authors, Various

  There’s no reply. I have the presence of mind to check her pulse. Nothing. She’s gone.

  A sob escapes when I lay my head against her chest. I squeeze my eyes shut as my pain tears through me. The little voice in my head is screaming at me to move; this situation's not safe. The Flash dropped these people within seconds of its appearance, surrounding me with dead bodies.

  After a couple of minutes, I collect myself and sit back on my haunches. Startled, a yelp escapes me when a growling man dashes by, inches from knocking me over. He beelines for a young girl who’s hysterical and crying for her sister to wake up. He slams into her from the side, dragging her to the ground before she's aware enough to fight back. He sinks his teeth into her fleshy neck and tears a chunk free. The wet rip of skin is unforgettable. Her shout for help is smothered by the blood she's choking on, and then she goes silent. The man remains huddled over her body, ripping meat from her bones, enjoying his gory meal.

  I gasp loudly, attracting the attention of the infected. He snaps his head in my direction, a piece of bloody flesh slapping his cheek. I shrink back from his demonic appearance. Only minutes after the flash in the sky, people turned grotesque—true living zombies. The creature continues to chew, crawling over the girl like a spider, heading in my direction.

  My inner voice is pleading for me to move, to run, to do something. Anything besides staring like a crazy person, but fear has claimed my mobility. Its features are clearer the closer it creeps, spotlighting its disfigurements. Its face is sickly and covered in pustules. The skin is rubbery, stretching heavily, as if melting off the bone.

  Adrenaline pumps through my veins, preparing me for flight, when movement behind the infected draws my attention. A middle-aged man looks in my direction as he runs at full speed down the back corridor, hoping to find refuge. The infected senses him too, and dashes off toward his new prey, leaving me seconds away from pissing myself.

  What the hell is wrong with him? I look down at my mother, her face soft and serene, peaceful in her passing. Nothing like the zombie human I’d encountered moments earlier. Glancing around at the other fallen, they all resemble normal humans, sleeping, but with their eyes wide open.

  “Duck!” The word is roared out, and the next thing I see is a machete flying straight toward me.

  I scream and duck, listening to the warning, my body finally unlocking itself.

  A wet whack hits my eardrums, the sickening crunch of bone and tendon snapping apart. Another whack, and the head of an infected hangs from its spine, an upside-down vision of our apocalyptic world. An infected had crept up behind me, and this guy came out of nowhere to cut it down.

  “Let’s go. There’ll be more.” The man holds out his hand, expecting me to grab hold. He’s covered in blood, plastering his blond hair to his forehead, but his caramel-colored eyes are soft and frantic, like mine.

  I reach out and place our palms together, wanting to trust him. Honestly, he’s the best chance I’ve got.

  Without words, we run through the mall, my mother left far behind. Everywhere we turn, there are dead bodies that litter the ground, their lives left back in time. I quickly learn that there are two different levels of infection, both resulting in decomposition of their bodies. One’s fast and brutal, attacking anything living. The other is slow and confused, unlikely to engage. We’re on the ground floor of the mall, allowing us to exit quicker, while those left on the third floor are still desperate to get out.

  The air hits my face, and it’s as if a veil is lifted. Outside is worse than inside, as death stares us in the face from every direction. Cars are crashed together, alarms are blaring, and screams pierce the air. The man holding on to me doesn’t allow me to help, even though there are cries begging for assistance.

  He reaches into his pocket, pulls out a key, and unlocks a small blue car. “Get in.” He opens the driver’s side door and pushes me inside, climbing in after. He starts the car and whips out of the parking lot, driving like a bat out of hell. “We’ve got to get out of the city,” he declares.

  My mom was my only family. Now that she’s gone, I see no point in deviating from his plan. The city isn’t a safe place to remain. With the machete resting between his legs, he maneuvers through the cars, trying to miss all the bodies, but not all are avoidable. We keep our eyes straight ahead, as our car bounces over them like speed bumps. Living people are sparse, and the ones we see are running for their lives, as the infected sense them and give chase. The apocalyptic world around us resembles nothing of the normality of its past, plunging us into chaos seconds after the Flash.

  My chest is near bursting with anxiety and heartache for those we've lost and the ones trying to get us to stop, pleading and waving their arms in the air. "Should we—" I begin to mumble, but the man cuts me off.

  "No. Look closely. Some of them are infected. We have no way of knowing who's sick and who's not." He glances my way for a second, before returning his eyes to the road.

  I nod instead of answering, my shock washing over my body again. How on Earth is he this calm? My tranquil demeanor belies the internal battle raging inside of me to stop and help, to break down and cry, but all I can do is sit still in the front seat of a fleeing car.

  The destruction passing by my window is unfathomable. Who would have thought that everything we knew would be gone in the blink of an eye? No one thought to plan a future when one no longer exists. Cars are piled together, making the roads impassable, leaving us to drive off-road during our journey of escape.

  We’re several miles outside of the decrepit city, the sun setting at our backs, before the aftermath catches up to me. I begin to sob uncontrollably, hiccups breaking up my tears intermittently, mourning my mom.

  The man driving glances at me again, fear more prominent on his face now than before when he chopped the infected down. The simple reaction causes me to switch from sobbing to laughing uncontrollably. Again, the man looks at me, probably wondering if he saved a crazy person and brought her along for the ride.

  "I'm not crazy, I promise." I wipe the tears from my face, attempting to collect myself.

  He chuckles. "That's good to know. I'd be worried if you didn’t have a reaction to what just happened. I'm Darren, by the way."

  "Hi, Darren." I sniffle, wiping snot across the back of my hand. "I'm Mya."

  "It's pointless to drive around without a destination. I'm almost out of gas too. I didn’t get a chance to fill up before I hit the mall. Can you think of anywhere we can go? My place is downtown in an apartment complex. Probably not the smartest stop," he reasons.

  "My grandma gave us her house after she passed away about a month ago. It’s on the outskirts of town, and it’s been empty since then.” I have no idea of its condition.

  “Sounds like it’s the best option for now. What’s the address?” He turns the car down a side road that leads back to town, toward my grandma’s house.

  As he drives, I check my pockets. After the Flash, and the attack by the infected, I apparently dropped my purse, and my phone. “Do you have a phone?”

  He leans to the side and pulls out his cell, tossing it to me. “Who you calling?”

  “A couple friends. My mom was with me back there.” I don’t elaborate. Not a subject I want to relive yet. Instead, I busy myself with calls that go unanswered. No matter how many times I try each number, there’s no answer. Clicking the dimmer on the side of the phone, I cradle it in my lap.

  “No answer?” Darren questions.

  “No,” I whisper. “Is there anyone you want me to call for you?”

  His fists tighten on the steering wheel. “No.”

  I decide not to pry, as my mind wanders to the light in the sky. “What do you think happened? You saw the light, right?”

  “Yeah, but I have no idea what it was or why everyone dropped where they were standing. Others turned…insane, or became sick. Then there’s you and me, and there’s nothing wrong with us. Are we going to suddenly turn into one of th
ose monsters?” We lock eyes, realizing for the first time that his question can become reality.

  “I sure hope not. I don’t want to live like that. They don’t seem to be able to control themselves. They’re extremely sick.”

  “They’re not sick. There’s no cure coming for this one. We’re not getting any response through the cell, and all the cars are crashed on the side of the road. We’re starting from scratch. Let’s get to the house, keep watch, and gauge our situation.”

  We arrive a short while later. Grandma’s neighborhood is sparse, holding only three other houses, separated by at least fifty yards. The lights are on at the house next door and the one across the street. The third house sits dark, and as blacked-out as Grandma’s.

  “Pull in the driveway, it leads under the carport. Dim the lights so we don’t draw attention.”

  He pulls in smoothly and as quietly as he can, shutting the engine down. We wait, barely breathing. The anticipation is digging at my anxiety, causing my hands to shake. There’re less people out this way, but they could still be infected.

  “I think we’re good. What’s the best way to get in?”

  “There’s a side door over there.” I point to the side of the house, only twenty yards from us. “A key should be under the mat. Like I said, I haven’t been here in a long time, so I’m hoping it's still there.”

  We exit the car, quietly latching the doors behind us, as the insects of the night echo their calls. We tiptoe toward the house, staying in the shadows and out of the moonlight. Yard debris is piled high next to the door, covering the mat from view. We sift through the crunchy pile of leaves and tumbleweeds, the noise amplified by the calm of the night.

  Darren bends down to flip the mat and find the key. Its right where I remember it being. He clicks the screen door open, the springs creaking, signaling our location again. I don’t bother to tell him to shush, as he’s well aware of the consequences.

  A flash of movement catches my eye, snapping my head in that direction. The night is motionless, making me wonder if I’m seeing things. Darren clicks the lock open and turns the handle, and that’s when I realize nature’s no longer singing a tune.

  “Get inside…something’s coming.” My heart is pounding, sensing danger. I push Darren inside, into the living room, just as the pounding of feet rush in our direction. I slam the door closed and lock the handle again.

  “Shit. Is it one of them?” Darren pulls me back against the wall.

  “I don’t know. I didn’t get a good look, but if they’re not infected, they didn’t say anything.” If the person’s looking for shelter, you’d think they’d announce themselves.

  We wait a few minutes before Darren slowly steps forward to look out the window in the door. He’s about a foot away when a face appears, obscured by the lacy curtain. We both jump and shout, pinpointing our location to the intruder.

  “Hello?” A voice I recognize comes through the door. It’s Mrs. Yotti from next door. I used to watch her do Muay Thai in her yard when I stayed at my grandma’s house.

  I step next to Darren. “It’s Jacinda Yotti.” I reach to unlock the door, when Darren grabs my arm, stopping me. I glare up at him. “I know her. She’s okay.” I reach for the lock again, but I’m stopped a second time.

  “She sounds funny,” Darren says.

  “How the hell do you know she sounds funny? You’ve never met her.” I reach a third time, and again, I’m intercepted.

  I open my mouth to protest, when Jacinda speaks again. “Is that you, Mya? I’m glad I caught you,” she giggles. “You wouldn’t happen to have a cup of sugar? Your Grandma said to stop by anytime.” Her words confuse me. She was at Grandma’s funeral.

  Instead of opening the door, I flick the curtain to the side, and scream.

  Jacinda’s distorted and blistered-covered face stares wildly back at us. There’s no recognition, even through she spoke my name moments earlier. The skin below her sockets is drooping, as if melting off, highlighting the frantic search of her yellow eyes. Focusing on us, her smile stretches, blood covering her lips and teeth. “Hello, dear.”

  “Back away from the door.” Darren grabs my elbow.

  Confused, I resist for a second, until the first attack hits the door. I stumble back against the wall, startled by the commotion. Remembering my grandma’s love of an evening fire, I rush to the left and grab the fireplace tool set. Watching her stir the fire at night, shoots a memory straight through me. Mya, darling, if you’re ever in a pickle, these fire pokers will work perfect as a weapon. She was always giving me “life’s learning lessons” as she called them.

  “Where the hell are you going?” Darren mock whispers.

  “Here, take this.” I toss him the poker and keep the shovel for myself. Jacinda’s still banging against the door, but not breaking through the window. Her speech is off, slurred, and a little confused. She’s not thinking logically, or she would have broken the window and gained entrance within moments.

  “We need to do something about this, or she’s going to draw attention to us.” Darren speaks the truth. She’s screeching and slamming herself against the door.

  “What do you suggest?” I already know he means to kill her, I’m just not sure I’m ready to hear it yet. Ultimately, I don’t have a choice.

  “You open the door and I’ll stab her in the head.” The shock on my face has Darren softening. “It’ll be quick. She won’t feel a thing, I promise.” He rubs my arm, but there’s no time for warm and fuzzy feelings. “Ready?”

  I nod, because no, I’m not ready. Jacinda’s the nicest lady, and I’m about to be an accomplice in stabbing her in the head with a fire poker.

  Darren stands with his back against the wall, readying the fire poker for the best stabbing angle, and then nods, signaling that he’s ready. My hand tightens around the doorknob, as my heart pounds in my ears. I mentally count to three before yanking the door open, allowing a screeching Jacinda inside.

  Darren wastes no time and plunges the iron rod into her temple, but she doesn’t go down peacefully like he promised. She continues to shriek and flail, now targeting Darren, her fingers splayed into claws. He hits her, pinning her down with his foot, stabbing her repeatedly in the stomach. He tries different angles, not able to get another shot at her head. Unbelievably, she’s screaming louder than before, the sound deafening.

  A switch inside me flips, and I rush to Darren’s aid, stabbing down. The flat end of my iron shovel connects with her neck, leaving a large, bloody gash. I raise my arms up and slam home again. This time, cutting through muscles and tendons. A pained gurgling drifts up to me moments before I slam down for the third time, hearing the crunch of bones, eliciting a battle cry from my lungs. My strikes become wild, killing not only Jacinda, but this entire zombie situation.

  “Mya! Mya! Wake up!” Hands grip my arms and shake me. “Come on, babe. You’re having another nightmare.”

  I’m ripped from my dream in a panic. “Darren!”

  “I’m here.” He reaches out and soothes me, murmuring, “It was years ago. Mrs. Yotti is long gone.” He pulls me closer, tucking me against his side. “Try to go back to sleep.”

  Sleep…I haven’t slept well since the night before the Flash. We’ve made ourselves at home in grandma’s house. My mom hadn’t touched anything after my grandma’s death, leaving the cellar and all its full pantry alone for us to live on. Since Grandma lived in a secluded area on the outskirts of town, we’ve made this our home base, rarely having run-ins with infected or humans.

  On mornings that don’t plague me with nightmares, there’s a moment between my dreamworld and consciousness that is peaceful, normal. A world where there was no Flash, and my mom’s alive, sleeping in the next room. Then realization hits, slugging me in the gut repeatedly, delivering its own message.

  Welcome to the new world.

  About Jessica Gomez

  Jessica Gomez is a bestselling author of Suspense, Romance & Paranormal, Apocalyptic
books. She is best known for her Paranormal Flash series. She independently published her first book, After the Before, in 2014, and reached #1 in Bilingual, Suspense, & Romance genres. She recently released book 3 in the Flash series, Evolved. For more about this author, visit one of the sites listed. She enjoys hearing from and chatting with her readers, who have the same passion for reading.

  6

  First Occurence

  by Joshua C. Chadd

  Wednesday afternoon, three days before the official outbreak

  Sheriff Gibson walked up to the corpse, his boots sinking into the soft soil. He pulled off his cowboy hat and wiped the sweat from his brow with the back of his hand. Living in Texas his whole life, he’d grown accustomed to the suffocating summer heat, but today was hot even by his standards.

  The teenage boy at his feet had been brutally murdered, with his throat torn out and a nasty gash on his head. But the murderer hadn’t stopped there. They’d taken chunks of flesh, leaving the corpse barely recognizable, but he knew it was Tedd Harms, a high school student from Hill City.

  Someone else had died on his watch, in his town. This wasn’t the first person he’d let die when he should’ve been able to help them, and that wasn’t even counting the other deaths this week. His breathing grew frantic as an anxiousness rose within him. Feeling something nudge his leg, he glanced down. Fidel was looking up at him with eyes too intelligent for a dog. He took a deep breath, stroking the brown and black hair of his German Shepherd Malinois mix. After a minute, he regained control.

  “Thanks, buddy,” Gibson said, patting Fidel on the head.

  He looked back at the body. It was the same MO as the others, to a T. It was hard to believe that in the last few days there’d been more murders in Hill City than in the last ten years combined—four in as many days. These weren’t random deaths like it’d seemed at first, and it wasn’t some rabid animal. This was a person, someone who liked to kill their victims and then eat the bodies—a serial-killing cannibal like some crap he’d seen on TV.