Death Has Fallen: Freedom Rock Chronicles: Book 1

by Beus, Kris

  Death Has Fallen

  Freedom Rock Chronicles: Book 1

  Chapter 1

  The eyes. Yes it was the eyes that died first. My mother was the first I witnessed the change in. We still know nothing of how it works or even what it is. So fast it flowed through our unbreakable perfect society. The outbreak did not begin in our country. No we witnessed others suffer and attempt quarantine. How can you stop that which you don’t know? The United States was one of the last countries hit. Immigration was put to a halt and anyone caught passing the border was immediately executed and burned. All of this did nothing in the end. City after city fell to the disease and chaos. Those who were not turned usually ended up dying by chaotic survivors.

  When it crossed the border from Canada we got report after report of the disease being contained. My mother and I would watch the news in an almost hypnotic state. This pandemic had finally come to our front door. As the government would attempted to contain a city it would erupt in riots. Police and military gunning down anyone who tried to break free from the grip. As the disease poured through Portland and into California there was not enough resources to even attempt a containment.

  This was the point we understood all was lost. There was finally one last update from our president. As he came on the Television it was shadowed with embarrassment. Clearing his throat he looked into the camera and said “People of America it is with great sadness I must report all efforts to stop the spread of the disease are futile. We will do everything within our power to help those not infected, but I must ask those who are able, to guard your family, house, and community. All gun and explosive laws have been disbanded. I ask you to stay peaceful, but if your life or family’s life is in danger do whatever is needed to protect yourself.”

  With that he lowered his head and walked out. The air was thick almost unbreathable we stared forward sitting in shock. After a few minutes my mother broke the silence.

  “How could this happen?”

  I replied, “What hope do we have? The government and military could not stop it.”

  My mother’s head rose steadily and she looked me in the eye.

  “There is always hope.”

  She stood up quietly in an almost peaceful surrender to the situation, she walked to her room. I sat for a bit longer dumfounded terrified of the future. I didn’t know when, how, or even if the disease would come, but with the possibility, fear brewed. I went to bed that night with the hope that somehow, someway, we would remain untouched.

  I awoke with my terrified mother shaking me with all her might. As I came to, her eyes seemed different. The pupils were completely dilated making her look quite hysterical. Terrified, I jumped up and pushed her away.

  “What the hell?”

  “The disease, it is here in the city.” she blurted out frantically.

  “How has it come so soon?”

  She sat in a stupor dumbfounded with a question she had no hope to answer. Realizing the trouble we were in I began directing her to make our small two story house into some type of fortification. The only experience we had at this was the love we shared for horror films, especially films about the undead. We tore apart the furniture and even broke apart some inner walls for wood to place over the windows.

  In the distance car alarms and the sounds of bending metal and breaking glass could be heard. My heart began pounding as the clearness of what was happening became revealed. Our small town of Jackson with a population of 50,000 would be infested by days end. I hurried to the kitchen where my mother was working and checked on her progress. She was still moving quite slow with the look of being in a dream world. Worried about her mind I decided to hold off on criticism.

  “How is it going?” I asked trying to not sound worried.

  Looking at me with eyes still glazed, she mumbled, “Boards will stop nothing.”

  She turned and began pounding in another nail. I stepped back in the living room with a fury deep inside, driven by my mother’s pessimism. I took the rage out on the board I was beating. The nails were in before I realized I had blocked the only exit out. The board was much more difficult to pull off. The couch would be an appropriate blockage. I pushed the couch to the door. Reaching towards the door knob I gave a tug making sure it could not be easily opened.

  The sounds of pure violence came closer and closer. Time seemed to slow with the destruction nearing. Weapons quickly popped to my mind. Looking down at my hands I felt the hammer would be something worth holding onto, but there was a need for something with a little more range. I grabbed one of the 2X4s we ripped from the wall. The hammer worked well smashing one side of the board into a handle. With the other side of the board I pounded in several nails bending the ends so they would not easily pop out if struck. The board was around my arm’s length and by the end it would save my life more than once.

  The sounds of nails being struck into the kitchen had stopped. Walking in the work done was very impressive considering my mother’s five foot ninety pound frame. I told her she did well and received a sigh. I felt as if she had already stopped fighting. Looking toward her there was nothing behind her stare. She stood motionless in a hypnotic trance. I felt the rage boiling as I sat staring at her. Nothing I could do would help her, she had every right to give up. Perhaps she would feel better in the morning.

  That night we decided to sleep in shifts myself taking first watch. She went to sleep easily enough considering all the rage happening right outside in the streets. After a couple hours the noise died down and all that was left was a few light footsteps around the house. The light noise brought more terror to me than any crash or scream. The fear behind these steps was not knowing if I should fear the steps.

  My heart was pounding causing a headache, there was no struggle in staying awake. I felt as though death itself stood outside my door just waiting for me to make a mistake. Looking towards the couch my small mother sat snoring. The time was 4:00 a.m. time to try and sleep. Gently I woke my mother hoping to not startle her. Her eyes opened slowly and peacefully, realizing almost instantly what was needed. Without a word she stood up and sat in the recliner next to the poorly made bed. Laying down it was near impossible to sleep without jumping at every sound. As Time passed my exhaustion began outweighing my fear. Reality started slipping and the darkness of dreams began to replace.

  The night became morning and waking became my nightmare. The sound of crashing came from the kitchen. Sitting up I quickly noticed my mother was no longer in the room. Terrified I jumped to my feet and ran into the kitchen. The monster was upon her, pinning her to the floor and biting her arms and hands as she struggled to push the beast off her. Turning, my board was laying just a few feet away from her. Picking it up, I swung sinking the nail tips into the back of the beast’s head. It fell on its side convulsing.

  Finally able to see what had attacked her my mouth dropped open. It was a man, not just a man, but an ordinary man. The jawbone slightly open with my mother’s blood dripping from the corner. The eyes, nose, cheekbones, ears, hands, and feet all identical to my own. It was at this second I realized why these things were unstoppable. This was not some slow, decayed, simple being, but a powerful human. One who had lost all sense of right and wrong. This man would do anything to survive.

  After the seconds of shock realizing what was happening, my mother gasped, staring straight up into my eyes clutching her neck as blood dripped through her fingers. Reacting with instinct my hand covered hers. The realization hit me of how futile these efforts were and I ran to the closet grabbing a towel. Racing back to her and ripping her hand away I saw how bad the wound was. Placing the towel on
her wound and pressing, tears began to fall. She gasped to breath and the cut on her artery was far too large and jagged for me to do anything. I knew at that moment her death was imminent, the towel and pressure only allowing for a few more moments together.

  Her breathing slowed and the fear slowly began being replaced with calmness. Her face was beginning to lose its color. She began taking in a few deep breaths.

  “Jake,” she reached up grabbing my shirt bringing me closer.

  “Jake, fight.”

  The words were barely audible, but filled my head instantly. With the release of her last breath I told her I would. Slowly standing I moved away from her. We were both covered from head to toe in blood. The second before I turned her chest began rising. Not understanding what was happening I kneeled back down next to her thinking it may be another chance. I placed pressure back on the wound and watched for a while as her chest rose and fell as if it had never stopped. The good feeling quickly subsided once her eyes opened. They were bloodshot, but something else struck me as strange. A film of white covered the eye making them almost impossible to penetrate with my own.

  The wisdom and intellect which once shined in every movement made, was replaced by the jerking of pure instinct. Her head went back and forth scanning her environment. It took a moment for her to notice that I was still sitting close. When the glance came my way her eyes widened. There was no love or family in her glance, just pure anticipation. It was as if my mother thought of me as a meal, rather than a son. She sat up quickly reaching for me. I backed up knowing something was wrong with her. A sound broke from her lips. It was inhuman and reminded me of how a vicious dog would sound going after a perceived threat.

  From the sitting position she lunged at my legs. Moving quickly I dodged and ended up with my back against the counter. She quickly stood facing me with those dead eyes and began rushing me. Feeling behind me there was something long, hard, and wooden. I grabbed for it and swung at her head with all my weight. I was shocked when the hammer she was using to put up boards smashed into the side of her face. The hit was enough to knock her on the floor. She stayed down dazed from the blow.

  Within a couple seconds she looked up and attacked once again. The hammer came down with all the force I could muster, instantly crushing the already weakened skull and sinking deep inside. She stopped moving and I sat down stunned and horrified, that I just beat my undead mother to death with her own hammer.

  Chapter 2

  I awoke with the sun lighting up the nightmare of last night. Looking around the blood came into focus first. My hands were caked with dry blood. The white tile in the kitchen was covered with blood. “Jake Olsen how dare you make this mess?” my mother’s voice played in my head. The memories of last night began flowing into my mind. For a moment the death of my last living family member was forgotten, but now the pain and anger flowed through me like the living death that crushed our country.

  I realized my house was not the best place to hold up. Every so often there would be a scream or other terrible sound reminding me of the danger lurking outside. Without a plan I would be dead or undead in the next couple days. There are enough supplies to last me a week in this house and there is my camping backpack downstairs. As I stood I noticed my clothes covered and stiff with the dry blood. Realizing if anyone saw me they would instantly think I was one of those monsters, I decided to change.

  My room was painted with a light blue tint and covered with posters from all the games I would play online. Everything from call of duty to world of Warcraft circled around me. Life would change from cozy and easy to extreme and painful. The games that filled my days previously would be morphed into long nights spent wide awake attempting to survive. Sitting on my nice comfortable bed I replaced all my blood stained clothes with my most durable work set. I grabbed a few extra pairs of socks, underwear, and shirts to take with me.

  Walking from my room and back into the kitchen there was shadows moving and rustling as if someone was looking for something. My heart raced as I came to a halt and began listening intently for any sound that would reveal what was here with me. The sounds that came down the hall were not chaotic like a zombie or wild animal, but rather intently driven. There were two possibilities that came to mind. The first was that the person in my kitchen was here to raid and would not mind shooting me if startled. The second and much more likely is the person was simply a neighbor trying to survive and was pushed out of their house.

  Slowly I inched myself towards the clashing of metal and drawers being opened and closed. Finally I caught the outline of a middle aged woman who was rummaging around and carrying a large butcher knife. I was stealthy enough to not catch her attention which allowed me to view her for a couple seconds. She seemed in control of all her faculties and simply in search of supplies that would increase her chances. Clearing my throat in a way to grab her attention she turned quickly screaming and brandishing her knife towards me.

  I stepped back quickly with my hands raised, “calm down I won’t hurt you”. Still terrified she looked at me intently, but with belief and lowered the knife.

  “Sorry for scaring you,” I said.

  “It’s not you, it’s just insane outside. Everyone has gone mad. They are either killing or looting, the entire city has descended into chaos. Sorry for breaking in, I just needed somewhere safe to hide I am exhausted.” Looking at me ashamed of going through my house.

  “I understand, please take what you need. I am leaving soon and you are welcome to come along if you like.”

  “Sure” she responded.

  “What’s your name?” I asked.

  “Amanda” she said looking toward me inquisitively “What’s yours?”

  “Jake,” I held out my hand.

  We shook hands a little awkwardly and I told her she could rest in my room pointing her down the hall. Her exhaustion was quite evident as she moved towards my room.

  She looked like a worthy companion. Long dark hair messy from the previous night flowed down over her shoulders. Her eyes were green and piercing. She was old enough to survive alone yet had a youthful beauty which she carried. I only had a couple inches on her and that is saying quite a lot since I myself stand just over six foot.

  As she walked down the hall and into my room for a couple hours I grabbed a flashlight and headed to the basement. For the first time in my life I was terrified to go into the dark. The electricity had gone out during the chaos and my basement was black as pitch. As I began my decent down the old wooden stairs creaking at each step my light barely punched through the thick blackness. Luckily the only thing in my basement I needed was my camping backpack. The pack was mounted on a steel frame which helped distribute large amounts of weight over my shoulders and waist.

  It was nice walking upstairs and leaving the darkness behind. My mind was a jumbled mess, making it quite difficult to organize my needs. The only necessities I could think of was food and water. My mind would not leave the two dead in my kitchen. Over and over I replayed the murders I committed to stay alive. Even though I was physically well rested, I still felt completely drained both mentally and emotionally. With the events that passed in the previous night my mind was numb. Sitting on the couch which was pushed up against the front door helped some. Laying my head back and closing my eyes let me process all of the events which led me here.

  After a while my mind slowed enough to let me get back to preparation. I grabbed the clothes laying on the counter I had taken from my room. Going through the kitchen I was able to find a large box of matches, some cans of food, a couple nice knifes, and some smaller pots that could boil water. I picked up the nail board and tied it to the side of the bag for quick retrieval. I set the bag by the front door and pushed the couch out of the way.

  Looking through the peep hole I could not see any danger, so I stepped outside to see how bad it really was. My jaw dropped as I attempted to take in all that was before me. Right in front of my house there had been a bad car wreck
, the drivers of both cars should have died, but they were nowhere to be found. Stepping down off the porch I noticed someone lying in our bushes face down. His right arm was bent in a very unnatural way and both his legs looked obliterated. It was easy to see that something huge must have smashed into him such as a truck. On a closer look I was terrified to find he was still breathing.

  I wondered how someone could survive such trauma without succumbing to their wounds even if an undead. Not feeling threatened I got close enough to see each body part. Everything was destroyed but the head. Apparently that was all that was needed for these things to have life a working brain. This thing continued to struggle and move, but with the damage it had sustained to its limbs movement was not possible. The sound made from the breathing was horrible. There was very little air getting past all the fluid. He didn’t try to gasp or even notice that his breathing was impaired to survival. He just sat there struggling to move another inch. Walking ahead of him he finally noticed me and began moaning, though I think it was an attempted snarl.

  Bored with my limp crawling zombie I went to look at my car. The front passenger side window had been smashed and my radio torn out. I guess even in the zombie apocalypse thieves will be thieves. The ignition was still intact and everything besides my valuables seemed to be ok.

  With a better understanding of the surroundings and activity outside the house I went in to collect my pack and new traveling companion. As I walked into my room and woke her she was still dazed. She displayed contempt and dissatisfaction with being woke up, but as she came to I explained that it was quite outside and this may be our only chance to get away. We needed to head for the country and she could sleep on the way.

  With the pack on my back I helped her up and we began our long journey to find somewhere safe. As I pulled out of the driveway the accident in front of the house was right in the way. I backed over the lawn and mailbox. It seemed most of the neighbors got a head start, their driveways being empty of vehicles. This must have been the reason we have only encountered a couple of the monsters since the ordeal had begun. It was hard to imagine what it would be like when hundreds of those things came at us. I attempted to keep my mind clear of such things and focus at the task at hand.