Last Man Standing (Book 1): Zombie Armageddon

by Max Lockwood

  “Did that thing bleed when you were scratched?” Lucas asked, raising his eyebrow.

  “Yeah.”

  “Then you had to have been infected. You’re telling me that the thing’s fingers were clean when it scratched you? You would have had to have some kind of gnarly symptoms.”

  Matthew tried not to think of the zombie’s decaying grey hands. Those were the hands that had killed his wife, the hands that had forever marked his face. Every time he looked in the mirror, he was reminded of the worst night of his life.

  “I got pretty sick for about a week. It was like the flu, but worse. I didn’t come even remotely close to turning into anything sub-human. I think my body just went into shock from the trauma.”

  Lucas and Pip looked at each other, partially concerned but also in awe. They were freaking Matthew out.

  “Dude, are you immune or something?” Lucas asked, his voice full of excitement.

  “Are you infected? Are we in danger?” Pip asked.

  “No,” Matthew said sharply. “I don’t know what happened. I don’t think I’m immune, and I’m confident that I’m not a danger to anyone. I’m nothing, okay? Can we just get in the store and get our stuff before we’re in real danger?”

  “But—” Lucas interrupted.

  “Look, we can discuss this all you want when we get back. I just want to make it back in one piece,” Matthew said.

  The other two snapped their heads forward, regaining focus. It was a little more difficult for Matthew to focus now that he had something bigger to worry about.

  It was strange that he became so ill after the scratch, but he never gave it much thought once the symptoms went away. He was in such a fog after Rebecca’s death that he didn’t really care about himself or his problems. That, and he was so doped up that he wasn’t entirely sure what was real and what was imagined during that time. In fact, he was kind of angry with himself for not considering the implications of his injury sooner.

  There was no way for him to know if he was contagious or not. He didn’t feel sick, and he certainly didn’t feel anything remotely close to a zombie, but he didn’t undergo any blood tests to prove that he didn’t have the disease in his blood. Before the funeral, he was scheduled to see a doctor, but he didn’t show. Now, there were no working clinics to test his blood. What were the chances that there was a living doctor in the area?

  Even more perplexing was the idea that Matthew could be immune to whatever caused people to turn into zombies. In his mind, it was something that wasn’t even governed by science. Zombies were still something out of science fiction—the keyword being fiction. How could he be immune to something that wasn’t real? Matthew was still waiting to wake up from his bad dream.

  If he were immune, then that would be huge. Not only would he not have to worry about turning, but scientists could study his body. Genevieve and Ellie might be able to make heads or tails of the situation.

  Perhaps he could save the world after all. His purpose maybe wasn’t to rescue the homeless and feed the hungry. Maybe he just needed to let the professionals use his genetic makeup to find a way to help others. If he stayed alive and allowed others to study him, that might be enough to save the world.

  Matthew’s head was spinning. He was getting ahead of himself. They had made their way to the corner to grab supplies to keep their bodies going for as long as possible. It wasn’t the time to think about bigger issues, like the fate of the world. Matthew tried his best to separate the present from the future, but it was hard not to be distracted.

  “Are we doing this?” Lucas asked Matthew.

  “What?” Matthew said, snapping back to reality.

  “Are you feeling okay?”

  “Fine,” he said firmly. “Listen, there’s a good chance that there are employees in that store who never got to go home. Remember that. Be prepared to fight from the second we walk in the store. Once it’s clear, we can do what we came here to do.”

  “Then let’s get it done!” Lucas said, his eyes full of excitement. He kicked the door open, entering the small store with a bang.

  Matthew took one last deep breath before following the others. He had a job to do. He could worry about everything else when it was over. He was trained to fight dangerous opponents, and that was exactly what he was going to do.

  15

  When the three stepped into the building, they immediately recoiled. The confidence they’d once had diminished as they walked through the wreckage of a family-run business.

  “I feel like I’m in a freaking haunted house,” Pip said, being careful not to trip over the broken shelves that littered the floor.

  “I can’t see a damn thing,” Lucas complained.

  Matthew was also disoriented from the scene. He had expected some wreckage but assumed that the sunlight from the windows would be enough to guide them through the store. Instead, the windows were covered in some kind of film that occluded natural light, and the generator-run overhead lights were flashing like a strobe as the power source ran out of life. Pip was correct in her observation—it was exactly like being in a haunted house that was designed to make the customer feel as uneasy as possible.

  Unfortunately, real fear was so much worse than manufactured fear for entertainment purposes. At least in a haunted house, there was the relief of survival. It was exhilarating for some to be scared witless because it gave them a rush of adrenaline. Once the perceived danger had passed, the customer was left with the feel-good chemicals and none of the fear.

  Real trauma was completely different. While Pip and Lucas might find a thrill in beating zombies to death, they would likely have the scars on their psyche for years to come. Even the toughest, most violent soldiers had issues to deal with. For some, it came in flashbacks. For others, their dreams were haunted. Matthew was lucky enough to suffer from both.

  “Is there a way to shut these effing lights off?” Lucas hissed, frustration rising in his voice. “It’s going to give me a migraine.”

  “Maybe in the back of the store,” Matthew whispered. “We have to secure the premises first. Everyone, be quiet for a second.”

  The trio held their breaths and listened. From the quiet came soft moans and low growls. They certainly weren’t alone.

  “Did you hear that?” Pip squeaked.

  “Yeah, we heard it,” Matthew replied, trying to keep his voice calm. “I heard something coming from your side, Lucas.”

  Pip looked toward the other side of the store, her axe raised and ready to strike. She was so focused on the increasingly loud groans from Lucas’s area that she failed to notice the creature stalking her from behind a shelf.

  With a piercing scream, a zombie trudged through the wreckage, arms stretched toward Pip’s neck. She tried to move out of the way, but her feet got tangled in a pile of sweatshirts. She crashed to the ground, nearly falling on her own weapon.

  “Stay down,” Matthew ordered, swinging his bat just inches from her head. By pure luck, he hit the zombie square in the neck, sending it sprawling on the floor. Pip jumped to her feet, bringing the axe down on its head, splitting the skull like a watermelon.

  Matthew blinked rapidly, trying to get his eyes to cooperate. He was able to spot a few zombies, only to have them disappear in the next flash of light. Unlike humans, these creatures didn’t seem to need their vision to make a kill. Their sense of smell and hearing was much stronger than anyone could have anticipated. They seemed to have no trouble locating their targets.

  Her breaths came out in high-pitched wheezes. She had been caught off guard and was rattled. Matthew immediately noticed her panic and knew he needed to help her. Otherwise, they were all doomed.

  “You’re okay,” Matthew said. “I need your help. I’m going to chase this one out from behind the counter. I need you to be there with the axe when it reaches you. Can you do that?”

  “Yes,” she replied shakily.

  Matthew jumped over the counter, driving out the hiding zombie. Just as
he explained, he beat the monster in Pip’s direction, allowing her to cleanly slice through the neck once it reached her. It was an easy kill. Matthew looked at the girl and was pleased to see a satisfied look on her face. She was back on track.

  Pip took off in a run toward another creature, hacking it to pieces. Matthew got so caught up in her athletic display that he nearly got tackled by another. He pounded the zombie to the ground then used his knife to finish the job.

  The lights continued to flash ominously, making it hard to see what was up ahead. A few times, Matthew raised his bat to strike the figure coming toward him, only to realize at the last minute that it was someone from his own team. With the sense of sight failing them, the three relied on the sounds emitting from the zombies.

  Matthew upped his leadership role, calling out to the others where they needed to be to make their kills. However, this was becoming difficult as action spread out around the store.

  On the other side of the building, Lucas was becoming outnumbered. Zombies were climbing through a broken window near the back of the store and seemed to be multiplying. As Lucas knocked one out, two more would pop up. He was beginning to tire and appeared to need backup.

  Matthew leapt over a shelf and came to Lucas’s aid. Working back to back, they swept through a herd of zombies, cutting them off from both entrances. They worked together, watching each other’s back as they struggled to keep up with the influx of zombies. Eventually, even Pip came to help them, the sound of her axe cutting through flesh striking an even rhythm.

  Then there was silence. Though the electricity from the failing lights hummed above their heads, they were unable to locate the source of any malevolent figures lurking in the darkness. The horrible groans and hisses stopped, leaving three exhausted humans cowering together in the center of the store.

  “Is that all of them?” Pip whispered hopefully.

  Matthew held his breath and listened. As far as he could tell, they were temporarily in the clear, but it was hard to tell. Something told him that a zombie could pop out from behind a wall at any moment. The high-pitched buzzing noise and the sharp lighting made every hair on his body stand straight up. He wanted to scream, to cover his ears and close his eyes to make it stop, but he had to be strong for the others.

  “I can’t take it anymore,” Lucas gasped, making his way toward the back of the store. Before the other two could follow him, the store went completely dark. Pip clutched onto Matthew’s arm, her fingernails digging into his shirt. He stood perfectly still, not wanting Pip to sense his unease.

  He found his mind transporting him back to the restaurant where he first came face to face with the zombies. As his wife lay crumpled on the ground, Matthew was too stunned to do anything he deemed useful. Admittedly, he was going into shock when the police arrived. So when he gathered himself enough to console his dying wife, the police had already secured the scene and blocked him from being there as the paramedics fruitlessly tried to resuscitate Rebecca. Matthew knew that she was too far gone. No amount of medical intervention could have saved her, but he often wondered if she was scared in her last seconds of life.

  This was an unsaid rule about dealing with fellow soldiers with serious injuries. First, it was important to get them medical attention as soon as it was safe to do so. Then, if it didn’t put anyone else at risk, the soldier attending to their fallen contemporary needed to reassure the wounded that they would be okay. In the end, these lies would make little difference to their outcome. But Matthew knew that if things looked bad for him, he would like to think he was closing his eyes for a rest, and not for the last time in his life.

  Suddenly, there was light. With a loud ripping sound, Lucas tore the window film from one glass panel, shedding soft light on their surroundings.

  Matthew scanned the scene before sighing with relief. As far as he could tell, they were no longer in the presence of zombies.

  “You could have gotten yourself killed going back there like that,” Pip admonished, glaring at Lucas. “Why didn’t you tell us what you were doing? What if there were still zombies in here? We would have never seen them coming.”

  “Sorry,” Lucas said sheepishly, rubbing the back of his neck. “I think this is better, though.”

  They couldn’t argue with that. While the lighting was still not spectacular, it was the difference between walking around at sunset and being trapped in a laser light show. At least Matthew could identify the objects strewn about the floor.

  Under the guise of tying his shoelace, Matthew crouched to the ground to catch his breath. He was feeling lightheaded from all the fighting and needed a second for a breather. With his eye at ground level, he was amazed at how many bodies littered the floor. Did they really kill that many in a ten-minute span, or had there been deaths prior to their arrival? It was impossible to know anymore. Out of the millions of New York City residents, Matthew felt like he had personally killed over a hundred all on his own. His new friends’ counts probably raised that number into the thousands. Yet they continued to come from all directions, never tiring or shying away from a fight.

  After successfully steeling himself, Matthew stood up and placed his hands on his hips. What should have been a reasonably organized store was in complete shambles. He spotted a bottle of mouthwash next to a pile of canned goods. Bloody clothing was draped on top of a magazine display. Matthew’s idea of splitting up the scavenging by type of supply was no longer an option. Assigning items to each person would take more time than it would to just stuff everything they could get their hands on in a bag.

  “Change of plans,” Matthew said. “Just pick up whatever useful items you can find. I just want to get out of here so we can move on to the drugstore.”

  “Got it,” Pip said before scurrying off to the back of the store.

  “Sounds like a plan,” Lucas replied before making a beeline to the display of protein bars and energy supplements.

  Matthew got to work sorting through the canned goods, stepping over a headless zombie to get to the shelf. He began by filling his bag with the heaviest items—cans of assorted fruits, vegetables, and potted meats piled inside. As he compiled ingredients, he thought about how he would prepare Spam, given the chance. He imagined it in a casserole with potatoes and cheese, just like his grandmother used to make. He thought about breading and frying it, to be served with something rich like roasted Brussels sprouts.

  Instead, the canned meat would probably go uneaten by everyone but Matthew. Though he believed he had a refined palate, he had eaten enough MREs in his life to not be picky about his meal options.

  “How’s it going over there?” Matthew called out to the others. From his vantage point, he couldn’t see Pip and Lucas.

  “Fine,” Lucas said. “My bag’s nearly full,” he said.

  “Great,” Pip said, her voice full of enthusiasm. “My bag is completely full. I found another little bag, so I’m going to fill that one too.”

  After zipping his pack closed, Matthew stood up and followed the sound of Pip’s voice. He found her crouched next to a cooler, sifting through bottles of alcohol.

  Matthew frowned. He thought he had been exceptionally clear about what they needed to get. While he wouldn’t have minded a cold beer, the calories would not provide any real nutrition and it would only dehydrate him. If she had been hoarding sports drinks, that would have been another story.

  “I’m not sure if those fit our priorities,” Matthew said hesitantly, trying not to offend or embarrass Pip.

  “Oh, these fit within our priorities,” she said, trying to stuff a small bottle of vodka in the front pouch of her bag. “Do you know how boring it is in that building? You can’t tell me that a shot or two wouldn’t make things much more interesting.”

  He couldn’t disagree, but he wasn’t sure that alcohol was the answer. If they wanted to use it as a bargaining chip with another group, it would be hard to completely wipe out the supply of alcohol.

  “Just smash the bot
tles when we go,” Matthew suggested.

  Pip gave him a look like he had suggested killing a newborn child.

  “Just let me have the two bottles of wine and the little thing of vodka. The rest of the bag is food, I swear. If you want, I can run this out to Ellie in a minute when you guys leave for the drugstore. I’ll come right back here and fill another two bags with whatever we need.”

  Matthew frowned, confused by Pip’s desperation.

  “It’s fine,” he said. “Just try to fit some of those water bottles in the other sack if you can. At least don’t take a net loss of hydration with you.”

  Pip seemed pleased with this compromise. Matthew knew that he was being too soft on her, but he didn’t think it was his business to meddle in her affairs. If the others wanted to rag on her for her poor decisions, he’d leave that up to Pip’s family and friends.

  Matthew went to check up on Lucas, who was stuffing lighters into his pockets. Matthew hoped that he was planning on using them as a heat source and not to light cigarettes. He didn’t know what he would do if Lucas had nothing but tobacco in his pack.

  “Nearly ready,” Lucas said, trying a long-sleeved shirt around his waist. He had also found several stocking hats that he had piled onto his head, making his skull look especially bulbous. A fresh pair of socks went into the front of his pants for safekeeping. Matthew made a mental note not to accept new socks from Lucas.

  “I’m going to go now,” Pip called to the men. “Don’t wait for me. I’ll run back here once I empty my bags at the office.”

  “No, it’s fine,” Matthew called back. “Just stay here another second. We’ll all go together.”

  “It’s fine,” she said, her bag clinking as she walked.

  “Just wait,” Matthew called desperately as he tried to make his way to the front to stop her. He slipped in a puddle of blood and brains, falling hard on his butt. He scrambled to his feet, stepping into an aisle with a clear view of the door.