The Apocalypse Chronicles (Book 1): Outbreak [Undead]

by DeLeon, Jon

  After hours of Kurt staring bloodshot into the blackness, sleep finally overtook him.

  His dreams were tainted with the experiences from the day. He dreamt of being chased by something unknown only to get stuck in quicksand, slowly sinking until his entire face was covered. Unable to breathe, Kurt struggled to find anything in the oily dark. Then just when it seemed he was doomed, he fell out the other side and into a room with walls lined with TVs. On each TV was a different self-help guru saying, in their own way, the world around you is what you attracted with your thoughts and feelings. It was then that Kurt was pulled into his real nightmare.

  Kurt was watching a movie in his mind. He could see Joe’s face filled with terror as he raced up concrete steps. Joe was running in circles, moving slowly up a concrete stairwell. His boots pounded every step as he raced. At the end of the stairs, Joe came to a door. He went to push it open. It was barred from the other side. Kurt watched as Joe tried to break down the door. Then Kurt heard another sound. A terrifying symphony of zombie wails coming from below. Kurt watched Joe struggle to break the jam, the zombies coming closer each second. Kurt’s view changed, as he was now standing on a roof, looking at the locked door. Joe had bent the jam enough to allow a five-inch crack to see through. Kurt watched Joe push his arm through, hand outstretched. Joe could see Kurt now.

  “Kurt! Help me!” Joe screamed.

  At that moment, Kurt watched undead hands rip his brother backward into darkness. Kurt couldn’t move. He couldn’t help. He couldn’t do anything. Kurt began to cry. As tears ran down Kurt’s face, he felt the water drip off his eyes and nose. It was then that Kurt woke up.

  Russia: Outbreak Day +1

  It was early morning. The pink hue of the rising sun set a strange light to the forest. Kurt sat up and wiped the moisture off his face. A misty rain had begun falling and extinguished his small fire. During the night, he had rolled out from the cover of his lean-to, leaving his face exposed to the rain. Kurt sat up and stretched his frozen joints, feeling muscles still full of lactic acid from yesterday’s hike. His whole body felt angered at his attempts to move. Rest was what his body needed. Rest was something Kurt couldn’t do. He needed to move on. Without better shelter, he would freeze to death. More importantly, he had a mission to complete. Kurt was going to find a way to get back to his brother.

  After a small meal and some water, Kurt packed up camp and started his slow trek through the Russian wilderness. The going was just as tough as yesterday, but the movement warmed Kurt’s body up enough that feeling returned to his fingers and toes. It was almost noon, and Kurt was considering taking a lunch break when the terrain suddenly changed. The muddy undergrowth disappeared, and the trees grew thinner. As he continued to walk, Kurt understood why. About one hundred feet ahead ran a dirt road. It was one of the old mining routes used “before the war.” When the mines were booming, the roads had bustled with trucks carrying men and supplies from the mines back into town. The exhaust of the trucks and spills of drilling chemicals had caused stunted growth in the forest around the roads.

  Kurt climbed the small incline up to the service road and stood on it. He didn’t know where the road led. He had two options. He could continue following the creek that cut under the road through a small culvert, which was slow going and tedious, or he could follow the mining road. The roads were notorious for having hundreds of connecting trails through the woods. The forest was a big spiderweb of abandoned roads that led everywhere, including the coast. Kurt could get lucky following this road and find a connecting path that led south, just like his little creek did. He stared ahead at the pines, wet with the misty rain. He didn’t want to go back in there, so he chose the road. The going was much easier, and Kurt’s spirits began to rise. At this rate, he would cover twice the ground from yesterday. It wasn’t long until he found a fork in the road, and he was in luck, as one path headed south. Overjoyed at his discovery, Kurt failed to realize the strangeness of the sound approaching from behind him.

  On most days, a car driving down a road was nothing to balk at, let alone be wary of, but this was a new world. Kurt recognized the sound of tires spitting gravel from the dirt road into the air as danger too late. He turned and saw a Winnebago slide to a stop just ten feet behind him. He didn’t even have time to act accordingly. He reached into his pocket, grabbing the handle of the knife. He tried to pull it from his pocket, but it was caught on something. The driver of the vehicle held a pistol out the window and fired.

  La Vida Dulce: Outbreak Day +2

  The sun was setting as Joe pulled the yacht into the marina at Key West. The island of Key West had been established as the main operating base for the remaining humans of all of South Florida. The residents of the island had been exempt from the effects of Enerjax. The delivery truck tasked with the shipment had broken down a few islands up the chain on Key Largo. It was that one-day delay that had saved the Conch Republic from the zombie curse. Of course many believed it was the ghosts of the island that had somehow kept the tainted medicine at bay. Joe didn’t care why or how the island had been spared. He was only happy to see a world not on fire and filled with actual human beings.

  The sail down had been a quiet one. Kira had spent the majority of it consoling the young children, who cried and begged for their father. Joe preferred to be up top on the fly bridge, where he could feel the cool ocean breeze on his face. As they docked, Kira came up top to stare out at the scene around them. In the marina, boats were no longer docking to the land but to other boats. It looked like a parking lot. The boats, anchors dropped, were tethered together in rows, creating makeshift walkways from their adjacent decks leading to the land. Joe finished docking La Vida Dulce and tied it to the nearest boat, a similarly sized Sunseeker.

  Joe let out a huge exhaustive sigh as he sat down on the bench at the stern of the yacht. Kira emerged from the bottom deck and shuffled over to the bench, sitting next to Joe.

  “Hey, Kira, how are they doing?”

  “Not good. They’re asleep now though,” Kira answered while staring at nothing in particular, emotionally drained from the last few days.

  “How about you? How are you doing?” Joe asked.

  “I just want to know if my family is okay.” Kira wrung her hands together, thinking about her dad and younger sister.

  “Yeah, me too,” Joe said. “Do you want to call them?”

  “What?” Kira asked, clearly confused at how nonchalantly Joe had asked the question.

  Joe held out the satellite phone to her. “Good luck.”

  Kira dialed the number. Four rings later, a message answered the phone. It was Karen’s voice. “Hello, you’ve reached Karen. I’m sorry to say that I won’t be able to answer the phone anymore. I’m leaving this message for my sister. I know you’re out there. I know you’re alive. Don’t come home. There is nothing here for you.” She sniffled. “Dad’s gone, but Kira, we both love you. We both know that you’re going to be okay. Remember what Mom told you at the end. Survive, Kira. We love you.” The message ended with a beep.

  Kira began to cry.

  Joe moved from his seat and put his arm around Kira. He knew that if he could get a hold of his family, the result wouldn’t be much better. So far all of his calls had gone to voice mail.

  Joe held Kira as she sobbed. After a few minutes, she ran out of tears. Joe lightly grabbed the phone, which had been left on, leaving a voice mail of tears.

  “I’m sorry, Kira.”

  “They’re gone. My whole family is gone.”

  “I’m sorry, Kira. I can imagine . . .”

  “Imagine? You can imagine? Do you have family?” Kira snapped at him, anger for her loss replacing her sadness.

  Joe clenched his jaw for a moment, absorbing the emotional outburst. “I don’t know.”

  Kira looked at Joe, realizing she had just let emotions go too far. “Where are they?”

  “My parents are, were, on a cruise. With that many people stuck in an enclosed
space . . .” Joe shook his head.

  “Have you been able to reach them?” Kira asked.

  “No. I even tried the number for the cruise ship emergency line. No one answers.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  “I’m more worried about my brother. He was on a semester abroad in some backwoods Russian village. I haven’t heard from him, but there’s a chance, a chance he got out in time.”

  “You think so?” Kira asked as delicately as possible.

  “I know it sounds dumb, but I know it. I can feel he’s okay, but he will only last so long. Did you ever have a sibling or someone you protected?”

  Kira only nodded.

  “I’m sorry. Is that who you just called?”

  Kira nodded again.

  “Well then you can understand. Kurt, my brother, we’ve always taken care of each other. We’ve always been a team. Together I think we can both survive this nightmare. Without each other, I don’t know.”

  They both sat in silence for a moment. Joe broke the silence.

  “I wish I could go after him, go find him.”

  “Why don’t you?” asked Kira.

  “For one, it’s not like getting to Russia is exactly easy right now. On top of that, I don’t know if he’s alive for sure. And I’m needed here.”

  “If there was even a chance that my sister was alive, I would find a way to get to her.” Kira’s nerves had steeled, her strength undeniable.

  “I want to, Kira, but I have a duty.”

  “Duty? What duty?”

  “The military has called for all active, reserve and veterans in good health to help with the rescue efforts. I have to go.”

  “Go?” Kira asked, shocked. “You’re not leaving us, are you?”

  “Kira, I have to. I have to help them.”

  “No!” Kira stood up. “You are not leaving me here. What about those kids?”

  “Kira, they’re going to need someone.”

  “Are you serious?”

  “I have to go, and you’re the only person alive they know. My duty is to help save and protect all of those I can. I have to report in. I need you to stay here and watch out for these kids.” Joe put the key to the yacht in Kira’s hand. “And if something happens here, I need you to get them out of here.”

  “The world is coming to an end, and you’re running away?” Kira asked accusingly.

  “It’s not like that.”

  “It sure seems like that!”

  Joe and Kira just stared at each other.

  “When are you coming back?” Kira asked.

  “I don’t know,” Joe responded.

  “You’re coming back,” Kira stated as fact.

  “I’m going to try to, but you’ve seen these things. I can’t make any promises.”

  Kira’s look changed. Determination came to her gaze. “Promise me you will come back, no matter what. Promise me and I’ll promise to take care of the kids. Then, when you get back, we go find your brother. Deal?”

  “That’s bad luck.”

  “Make the promise or I walk off this boat right now and leave the kids with you.”

  “I promise.”

  Russia: Outbreak Day +1

  The world sounded like it was underwater. Every sound was muffled. Kurt could barely hear his own voice. The bullet had whistled so close to his ear that he felt the wind as it passed. Kurt was caught in the open with one hand stuck in his pocket. He didn’t have a chance. His only reaction was to yell and hope for mercy.

  “Don’t shoot! Don’t shoot!”

  Kurt closed his eyes and braced for another shot to ring out. It never came. He slowly opened his eyes and looked at the Winnebago. The driver still had the gun leveraged out the window on the side mirror. It was pointed at Kurt.

  “Show me your hands!”

  Kurt slowly pulled the knife from his pocket.

  “Drop the knife!”

  Kurt let the knife fall to the ground. “Please don’t shoot.”

  Meanwhile, inside the RV . . .

  “Tyler, he sounds like he’s American.” A delicate voice said from the passenger seat of the Winnebago.

  “So what?” an equally uncaring voice answered.

  “So we should help him. Look at him. He’s alone. Who knows what he’s been through.”

  “He’s alive and on his own. He must be a killer of some kind. We should just finish this.” Tyler aimed down the iron sights of his handgun at Kurt. He had sent a warning shot to the random stranger just seconds before. This time, he would finish it. Tyler would do anything to protect Liz.

  “Tyler, stop! Ask him,” Liz demanded.

  “Ask him what?”

  “Ask him if he’s American and if he’s a killer. You are a good judge of people.”

  She was right, Tyler was a great character evaluator. It came from his own faults and how well he hid them. Liz was always trusting, but maybe she was right. If he talked to this man, he would know whether he was good or bad and, maybe even more importantly, whether he was expendable. In this new zombie world, self-preservation was king.

  “Okay, I’ll ask.”

  “Are you American?”

  “What?” Kurt sheepishly answered back.

  “Are you American?” the voice repeated.

  “Yes, my name is Kurt. I’m . . . I’m from Florida.”

  “Are you a killer, Kurt?”

  “What?” This time, Kurt’s voice was confused.

  “Are you a killer?” The voice was extremely forceful this time.

  Kurt realized that how he answered this question could determine his life. He spat out desperately, “No.”

  “Everyone’s a killer these days!”

  “Not me! I’ve just been running! I promise!” Kurt almost cried yelling it out.

  After a long pause, the driver opened the door and stepped out. “I believe you.”

  The man who stepped out of the motor home was about six feet tall, athletically built and blond haired. He had a thin face, marked most by his bright-blue eyes, and a pronounced chin. He put the gun back inside the open window, onto the dashboard. A young woman poked her head out the passenger window. She was brunette, thin figured as well, with brown eyes and a slight tan.

  “Are you American too?” Kurt was still holding his hands above his head.

  The young girl hopped out of the Winnebago. “Hi, I’m Liz. Yes we are.”

  “I’m Tyler,” the driver said as he now leaned on the hood of the motor home.

  Kurt put his hands down slowly.

  “How did you end up out here, Kurt?” Liz was leaning against the hood of the car.

  “I’m an exchange student.”

  “Exchange student?” Tyler started laughing.

  “Yeah, I kind of got sold a bill of goods.”

  “No joke.”

  “What about you two?”

  “Honeymoon.”

  “You two came here for your honeymoon?” Kurt’s tone was overtly judgmental.

  “No. We were traveling through Europe. When all this zombie stuff hit, we grabbed an RV and took off down the back roads. We’ve just been trying to survive since then. Where are you heading?”

  “South, toward the coast.”

  “What’s at the coast?”

  “I’m just trying to find a way home.”

  Liz spoke up. “I don’t know about home, but you can come with us if you want.”

  “With you?”

  Tyler nodded. “Come with us. We can head south and get you out of the rain. It would be nice to know we aren’t alone.”

  “Really?”

  “Yeah. What’s the plan for getting home from the coast?”

  “Get a boat and sail west.”

  “What, across the Atlantic?” Tyler sounded disapproving.

  “I’ll find a way.” Kurt’s set mind and determination instantly silenced his doubts.

  “Well we can get you to the coast,” said Tyler.

  “Deal.” Kurt picked up the
knife and turned to walk to the RV.

  “Hold it!” Tyler motioned for Kurt to hand the knife over.

  Always have a weapon. Kurt paused for a second, thinking. I think Joe would understand. He turned the knife so the handle was facing out and gave it to Tyler.

  Tyler took it and shook his hand. “Welcome aboard. We call this thing,” motioning with his head toward the Winnebago, “the Boat.”

  Kurt climbed inside using the side door, shaking Liz’s hand as he stepped up the stairs inside. Tyler shouted from the driver’s seat, “Close that door and grab a seat. Liz, navigate for me. We’ll get more acquainted over dinner. We have a few more miles to go before settling in for the day.”

  Liz nodded to Kurt and retook her seat up front.

  The Winnebago was late-nineties vintage. The inside was taupe and sea green. The upholstery was fake leather and vinyl, and the fixtures were brass. Kurt put his wet pack on the floor and sat down on the bench seat. It was so soft compared to the bed of needles he had spent the night on. His backside welcomed the cushion.

  Tyler turned the ignition and turned up the radio. An eighties hair band came through the speakers. Tyler threw on a pair of sunglasses and slammed the RV in gear. Liz turned her head and said, “Eighties American rock, gotta love Russia.”

  The RV took off down the rough dirt road.

  It was just before dark when the Winnebago pulled off the side of the road and into a little clearing. Tyler turned off the ignition and climbed out of the driver’s seat, stepping into the main living area, stretching and twisting a kink out of his back.

  “Oh yeah, that feels good. Just a few hours on these rough roads is hell. Gotta pee.” Tyler rushed out the door of the RV in search of a tree to relieve himself on.

  Liz climbed out of her seat, stretching as well. “Kurt, help me get dinner set up, will you?”

  Kurt was sitting on the couch in the living area of the RV. “Sure.”

  Liz reached into a cabinet and pulled out plates, bowls and cups, and handed them to Kurt, followed by silverware from a drawer. “Set the table, please.”