The Mike Beem Chronicles: 6 Tales of Survival, Hope, and The Zombie Apocalypse

by Anthony Renfro

  “Probably.”

  “Okay, let’s wrap up something for your sister and something for your parents. You can deliver it to them when you get back,” Mike replied, trying to wash away the scene around them with a little holiday cheer. It was Christmas morning after all.

  About thirty minutes later, they ventured out of the apartment with a little happiness in their souls, and fully stocked weapons. Every zombie they encountered on their trek to the lobby was slaughtered, every zombie in the lobby was slaughtered, and when they reached the doors that led outside, every zombie they could see in the parking lot was also slaughtered, dead and drying in the bright morning sun.

  There was a fresh eight inches of snow on the ground, so Mike boosted Tommy onto his back and together they made the journey back to his neighborhood.

  +

  Afternoon was settling into the world when Mike radioed ahead to the guard on duty.

  “Cuckoo bird is on his way back with a baby fledgling this time,” Mike replied.

  “Glad to hear your voice. Merry Christmas,” Fred replied.

  “Still on duty?”

  “I couldn’t leave until my boy got home,” Fred replied.

  “Thanks, and Merry Christmas to you. Can you tell Tommy’s parents he’s safe and sound?”

  “Will do,” Fred replied.

  “See you soon,” Mike replied, letting their conversation drop.

  Five minutes later, the gate slid open and Mike and Tommy walked into the safety of the neighborhood.

  Instantly, Donny and Lisa rushed up to their son.

  Tommy hugged them, and kissed them back while Mike held the presents in his hands. When the family moment was over, Mike handed Tommy the presents and he in turn handed them to his parents. Lisa took them, and ushered her son back to the Refugee Center. Donny took a moment to glare at Mike, who stood there with his fists clenched, ready for what may be coming because it had happened before. Donny decided to let it drop though, plenty of time for that later, and followed after his family.

  Mike ventured back to his home and when he was close, he looked up at it.

  Donna-Marie was standing there in the doorway, wearing a robe he had found for her not long ago, Twister Sister’s version of “I’ll be home for Christmas” blaring out of the open door. She looked left and right and not seeing anyone, dropped the robe, revealing her naked body underneath.

  Mike picked up the pace.

  THE END

  HAPPY ZOMBIE CHRISTMAS!

  Flesh for the Zombies

  Chapter 1: Disorder

  Mike Beem lowered his rifle, put his right eye on the scope, and closed his left eye.

  Bam!

  Donna Marie’s head exploded. Her zombie shuffle ended when her lifeless body hit the pavement. Mike aimed again, and this time Donny’s head exploded, showering a nearby window in a spray of bright red blood. Mike reloaded, and aimed again. This time it was another much loved neighbor. Another head shot, and down she went. Again and again, he reloaded, and aimed. Each shot ringing true until every zombie he thought used to be someone he loved was now head-splattered and dead. When he was finished, he looked over at Double Trouble (who had been watching on in horror) and saw they were in as much shock as he was. All three of them, coming back from a Halloween candy run, weren’t expecting this.

  Mike looked down at his bag, filled with costumes and candy he’d found for the kids. It was also filled with trick r’ treat bags, folded up neat and tidy, ready to be used by eager little hands. Were any of those eager little hands still left alive? He had no idea, as he surveyed what once used to be his safe and secure neighborhood on this unusually crisp late morning. He had been out all night, sleeping in an old car, so coming home was going to be a comfortable treat. Unfortunately, a warm soft bed lying beside Donna Marie wasn’t going to happen now.

  “What happened, Mike?” Double asked, eyes stuck inside a pair of black binoculars, trying to fight back the tears as they streamed down her face. She hadn’t known these people as long as Mike or worked as hard as him to get the place Apocalypse functional, but she was certainly feeling the sting.

  “It looks like that car slammed into the gate, and then died shortly after.”

  Double turned the binoculars on the machine. It was an Eighties Cadillac turned into a black hearse, with blood red words on the side that read “THE SATANISTS.” Below these words was a demonic face with two gigantic horns on top of its head. The demon head, like the words, had been painted with what looked like dried blood.

  Mike picked up his gun, and aimed. This time on a zombie dressed out in a red devil mask complete with two large horns. It was wearing jeans, tee-shirt, and blue jean jacket along with black combat boots. “I bet that is one of the assholes who did this,” he replied, and fired. The zombie’s head exploded when the bullet met the brain.

  “Do you see any more like him?” Trouble asked, scanning with her bare eyes.

  “I haven’t seen any humans or zombies with that kind of mask since I got back. It was the first, and hopefully the last,” Mike replied, standing up.

  “Do we clean it or get to our safe haven?” Trouble asked, taking her place beside him and her sister.

  “Safe haven first, clean it second,” Mike replied, looking at them, survivors now, so different from when he had first encountered them.

  “What?” Trouble asked.

  “Nothing. I’m just proud of you and your sister. You’ve come so far since the day I found you. I can’t say thank you enough for what you’ve done for me and this community. Now, come on, let’s see if we have any survivors down there,” Mike replied, and started to move forward.

  The twin girls looked at one another.

  “What the hell was that about?” Double asked.

  “No idea,” Trouble replied, as she followed after Mike.

  Her sister lingered for a second longer before following after them.

  +

  Zombie heads exploded in rapid succession as Mike and Double Trouble cleared a path to the shelter. Miraculously, none of them got bit on their journey over to what once used to be the old club house.

  The place was an absolute mess inside and out.

  The exterior walls, once white and freshly painted, were now covered in scratches and gashes. It looked like someone with an ax or a knife had simply made their way around the place with the intent to only destroy. The interior wasn’t much better. The kitchen had been looted, the beds slashed with knives, the couches and chairs not only slashed and cut open, but they had been urinated on as well. The white walls and floors were also covered in blood that dripped down them in a slow river of crimson, pooling on the carpeted floor and soaking into the short beige fabric. Hand drawn in the blood and scattered throughout the room were pentagrams, upside down crosses, devil faces with horns on their heads, and on one entire wall the words “The Satanists” was scribbled in big bold letters.

  “Who would do this?” Mike asked, as he tried to keep what little food he had eaten in his stomach.

  “Oh my God,” Double replied before leaning over and throwing up.

  Trouble hurried over to her sister and almost threw up herself before ushering both of them away from the horrific scene. They made their way into the kitchen and puked into the pee smelling sink as Mike went to see what had unsettled them so much. He almost puked when he saw it. One of the women who helped out around the shelter had been attacked and raped, stripped naked, and cut from stomach to throat with her insides pulled out. A perfectly placed bullet had ended any chance of her becoming a zombie. Thank goodness for small miracles.

  “Fuck,” Mike replied, as he took off his coat and placed it over the dead woman with the staring lifeless eyes. While he stood there, he heard a rustling sound. He looked towards the source as he loaded his gun. Once loaded, he made his way over to the trap door which was set into the floor. He pointed the gun at it as Fred Walg popped up from the hole. Fred was one of those guys, the ones that just seem
to know how to survive. He was a tall fifty-year-old man with a lanky build and graying hair. In his life before this, he was an accountant by day, hunter by weekend. You wouldn’t think an accountant would know so much about surviving, but trust me, he did.

  “Fred. Thank God you’re okay,” Mike replied, as he helped his friend out of the tight enclosed space. “Anybody else down there with you?”

  Fred looked around the room and immediately saw the covered body on the floor. He started to walk over to it.

  Mike stopped him with a gentle placement of his hand on Fred’s chest. “Don’t. It’s not pretty. They messed her up good.”

  “Who was it?”

  “Betsy Auger.”

  “I heard the screams. We all did, but there was nothing we could do about it. I was afraid to take action. I was afraid to act. I was just trying to keep the kids safe,” Fred replied, as he hung his head letting a few tears roll free.

  “Fucked up times make you make fucked up decisions. You did the right thing. I know Betsy would have agreed,” Mike replied.

  “What happened, Fred?” Trouble asked as she and her sister made their way out of the kitchen. They both looked white and pale, but they had regained their teen composure.

  “One minute we were hashing out Halloween ideas and the next we heard this bang. Then all hell broke loose,” Fred replied, wiping away the tears. “We had most of the kids with us, so they made it into the bunker.” He looked at Mike. “I tried to help others, but we were outnumbered. I couldn’t do more. I had to keep them safe.”

  “It’s okay, Fred. Don’t beat yourself up. You did the right thing. You did your best,” Mike replied, hoping to offer some kind of comfort.

  “How’s Donna Marie?” Fred asked, thinking Mike had checked on her already.

  Mike shook his head. “Didn’t make it?”

  “Shit, man, I’m sorry,” Fred replied, regretting he had brought it up.

  “Can we come up now, Fred?” Joy asked from down below, as a sound of restless kids caught their ears.

  Mike looked around, and ran his hands through his long grey hair. “We can’t let them see the room like this,” he replied, thankful something had taken the conversation away to somewhere else.

  “How about the roof?” Double responded.

  Mike looked up at the ceiling and the dead fluorescent lights. “I think we have a ladder that will reach the door that leads up to it.” He looked at Fred. “Can you grab it?”

  Fred (also thankful the uncomfortable conversation with Mike had died) set off to retrieve the item, hoping it was still in the back closet, as Mike walked over to the hole in the floor. “One second Joy, just trying to figure out a few things. Hang tight.”

  “Everything okay?” She asked.

  “Just hang on a bit longer,” Mike replied, looking over at Double Trouble. “Can one of you guys grab a blanket so we can cover up the room? We will need to make a wall so the kids won’t see the room when they come up.”

  “Sure. I’ll do it,” Trouble replied, and rushed off to the lone bedroom in the Refugee Center. A bedroom that had served many new members in this community very well.

  “The kids are also getting hungry,” Joy replied.

  “Double, go and see if there is anything left in the kitchen.”

  “Goldfish?”

  “Anything, just go. And hurry.”

  Double rushed into the kitchen as Fred arrived with the ladder. “Lucky it was still there. They took almost everything around it.”

  “Found a big blanket,” Trouble replied, returning to the room.

  “Good,” Mike replied, as Double returned from the kitchen with her jet black hair bouncing in a ponytail.

  “I found some goldfish. A couple of boxes,” she replied, shaking them.

  “Awesome. Drop them down to Joy.”

  Double walked over to the door in the floor. “Joy, you there?”

  “Right here.”

  “Can you catch?”

  “Drop it.”

  “Two boxes coming your way,” Double replied, dropping one and then the other. She made her way back to Mike when her task was complete.

  “Now, you on one end, your sister on the other,” he replied.

  She took one end of the handmade quilt that was covered in Easter baskets filled with color and her sister took the other.

  “Now, split, see how far it will stretch.” Mike stepped back, and watched the girls for a moment. The blanket didn’t quite cover the room, but it was big enough to hide the body on the floor. The rest of the mess was still exposed, but it was best they could do. “Okay, Joy, bring them up. Tell the kids to keep their eyes forward and not to look around too much. Fred will help you guys get onto the roof.” He looked at Fred. “Get the ladder over to the door in the ceiling. Help them up the best you can.”

  “Sure thing, Mike,” Fred replied, and headed over to take care of his task.

  The kids started filing upwards one by one, eyes wide, looking everywhere, munching on goldfish, while Joy tried to keep them looking forward even though she was having trouble not doing it herself. When they reached the ladder that led to the roof, Fred peaked his head out of the hole in the ceiling.

  “One by one guys, okay,” he replied, and held out his hand.

  “Goldfish back in the boxes, two hands and two feet,” Joy replied, clapping her hands together. The kids complied and started to climb.

  When almost all of them had made it up, a little blonde girl who couldn’t have been more than 5, stopped and looked at Joy. “Is my mommy okay?”

  Joy looked at Mike, who softly nodded his head “no.” He knew who her mommy was, and she was one of the zombies he had put down earlier that day. He could still see her shuffling about, dress torn open, one leg dragging behind her, most of her face smashed in.

  “I don’t know, sweety. Just go on up. We’ll worry about that later,” Joy replied, standing strong in the face of tragedy. The little girl started to climb and as Joy watched her go, she ran her hands through her short brown hair, and started to cry.

  Mike took her in his arms and held her, as the last child climbed. “I know, I know. It’s tough.”

  When the kids were on the roof, little feet stomping around above them, Double Trouble dropped the blanket and folded it up. They waited patiently for Mike to give them their next task.

  Fred peeked down from up top, as Joy started to climb. “What’s going on?” He asked, helping Joy onto the roof.

  “We’re going to clean the streets and check on survivors,” Mike replied, walking over to the hole in the floor. “Double stand right there while I get the weapons. Trouble head on up.”

  “There are weapons down there?” Double asked.

  “A secret arsenal for a just in case,” Mike replied, descending.

  The bunker he dropped into was small in size, crudely built after the Apocalypse had arrived. There were benches, cots, food and water in the small area. There was also a safe set into the wall that was big enough to hold a secret arsenal of weapons. Mike walked over to it, twisted the combination, and popped the door open. Inside, there were three AK-47s, eight pistols, a couple of hand grenades, and several knives. All the weapons had been put in here fully loaded with extra clips. Mike found a bag on the floor (another on purpose item for a just in case moment), and loaded all the weapons into it. Finished, he handed the bag up to Double and then climbed out of the hole. She slung the bag over her shoulder, and joined her sister on the roof.

  Mike took one last look around the place, as a zombie thumped against the door. “I’ll see you in a minute,” he replied, and then made the climb onto the roof.

  +

  The sun was beating down from a cloudless blue sky, and a cool breeze had settled into the Raleigh, N.C. day as the survivors surveyed their once peaceful neighborhood.

  “It’s a nightmare,” Double replied, as she stood beside Mike wondering how it was going to ever get back to the way it was.

  Mi
ke looked at her, youthful and young, at her current age it was all or nothing. He rubbed her back to comfort her, as he flipped his eyes to Joy to Fred, and then to the kids, who were all huddled together munching on Goldfish, hoping to be home and back with their families very soon. He had no clue why most of them weren’t crying, but he was glad they were staying calm. This was a hard situation to think in and crying kids would only make it that much harder.

  “What should we do, Mike?” Trouble asked.

  Mike looked from her to the neighborhood. “We start killing zombies. We have enough weapons up here to clean them out, I think, or at least thin them out enough that hand to hand combat is an option.”

  “What about the car, and the busted gate?” Trouble asked.

  “Probably need to push it away from the gate somehow.”

  “That’s a pretty big hearse, Mike. Old school, full of metal more than plastic,” Fred replied.

  “We get enough people on it, I think it’ll move,” Mike replied, clapping his hands together. “Okay, first part of my plan. Let’s see if anyone is alive out there.” He cleared his throat, and then screamed. “Anybody who can hear my voice! Go to an upstairs window or wherever it is safe! Let me know you’re still breathing!”

  They all waited a moment, no signs of immediate movement.

  Double scanned with the binoculars, hopeful. “I see someone. There’s another, and another, and another. They heard you, Mike.”

  He looked from Double, who was smiling, to the neighborhood. “Okay, folks! We’re going to start shooting! Hunker down! Stay put till it stops!”

  “What about the homes that are only one level?” Fred asked.

  “You and I will check them out once the shooting stops,” Mike replied, scanning the four homes that stood at only one level. Two of the homes had their front doors wide open, and the other two homes had their doors closed tight. “First though, let’s kill some zombies. Then we worry about everything else,” Mike replied, turning away from Fred to look at Joy. “We’re about to start shooting. Keep the kids calm. It’s going to be loud.” He looked back at those waiting for his next command. “Double Trouble, how many rounds do you have left from your supply run?”