***
Ross jumped off the couch and rushed toward the door, still clad in Amanda's pink fuzzy bath robe. Behind him, he was certain he heard at least two people, likely Jamie and Amanda telling him to wait, but the alarm was an outstanding reason to escape the awkward situation they'd managed to create within their home.
“We're under attack!” he heard a man shout the moment he left the safety of the mid-sized apartment. “Everyone to the wall!”
“Which part of the wall?!” Someone demanded.
“Any part!”
Well, that certainly wasn't good.
“You should go to the center of town,” Jill said, walking briskly beside him. “They've turned the management building into a type of local government; it's where they keep the guns.”
“How do you know that?” Ross asked, becoming suspicious of the specter that followed his every move.
“I don't, but you do. You heard it mentioned in passing, and you saw the building on the way through the gate, even if you didn't mention it.”
So, this is what it had come to, Ross was now living with a lesbian couple, and being stalked by the ghost of his dead girlfriend who may or may not be real. This was normal for adolescence now, right?
As they walked through the street they became increasingly aware of panicked people passing them, and the sound of gunfire escalating near the wall. Ross took a right turn down 'Jill Ave', toward the administration building.
“Did you see that?” Jill said, a smile on her lips. “This is my street.”
Ross simply shook his head and continued walking. The glass administration building was straight ahead. He had seen it on the way in – he could remember now. The ghost Jill hadn't told him anything he didn't already know. He sighed. For a moment, he had hoped she might actually be real, but who was he kidding? Jill touched Ross's shoulder, and he looked at her. She was smiling.
“I'm as real as you need me to be,” She reassured him.
Ross didn't answer. Instead, he simply walked toward the building, finding a man in front handing out weapons. Without a word, a hunting rifle was thrust into Ross's hands, along with a few extra ammunition clips. He had no idea the caliber or the type of rifle, but it didn't matter much. He simply turned and ran toward the wall.
Around the perimeter of the gated community, an eight foot high brick wall had been erected for the sake of privacy, but it seemed that since the event, it had been outfitted with a scaffold so that defenders could stand on the edge and fend off attackers. It was a good system, and there were already several men and women standing atop the wall Ross was heading toward.
“What happened?” A frightened woman asked.
“I don't know,” Another replied. “It's like...something is driving them here. They're running from something!”
“Or we're an easy food source!” A man shouted as he fired his rifle into the night and was rewarded by the groan of an undead.
Ross climbed the scaffold, rifle in hand, and took his place. On any other day, his attire might have attracted some unwanted attention, but no one seemed to care at this point. He raised the rifle to his shoulder and began to scan the horizon. It was so hard to see at night! Why weren't there lights up here?
“To the right,” Jill said, guiding Ross's rifle in the right direction. “There you go, just squeeze one off.”
Ross squeezed the trigger gently and flinched as the shot ignited in the barrel. He'd fired a rifle before, but not like this. It was ironic that he should be gun shy at this point, considering he had been planning to kill everyone in his high school a short time ago.
“Yeah,” Jill agreed. “That is pretty ironic. But you need to put that behind you now. You need to focus on the here and now, or you're going to die. Aim low.”
Ross aimed low, as instructed, and killed a zombie that had wandered dangerously close to the brick wall while everyone else had been focused on the field.
“Holy shit, that was close!” the man beside Ross exclaimed between shots.
Ross continued to fire with Jill's help, but suddenly, and without any warning whatsoever, the town went dark. The lights behind them, even the street lamps, extinguished, leaving them in complete darkness.
“Oh, what the hell?!” Someone on the other side of the wall screamed.
It was eerily quiet without the lights, and Ross realized that they must have been running on some sort of generator. But, what had happened to the generator?
“Oh, mother of God, shitstain soccer ball, hockey bullshit cocksuckers!” A male voice screamed.
“Eh...I got some of that, Bill, but you want to elaborate?” Another voice asked.
“Some cheap foreign asshole cow herding..GOD, GOD, GOD, WHY?!”
“One more time, Bill,” The voice said calmly in the dark.
“The generator, they forgot to fill the generator!” The man named bill finally screamed.
“See now that makes sense. Let's fill the generator.”
Though they were standing in the gated community, surrounded by walls higher than a man, the lack of lighting and the eerie silence made Ross feel as if he were standing alone in the middle of a field, vulnerable. There was almost no point in shooting; no one could see a damn thing. There was still the growling, and the sounds of movement, but every man and woman in this community was aware of their ammunition situation. That is to say, that even if they had a massive stockpile of ammunition, they still would not have nearly enough to hold off the zombie hordes. This was a lose-lose situation, which was becoming worse by the minute. Luckily, the undead were incapable of climbing the wall, at least for the moment, and in that aspect they were safe. The biggest problem would be leaving the gated community for supplies, which would soon become impossible.
“Flare out!” Someone at the other end of the wall screamed. Seconds after the words left their lips, a decent portion of the field was illuminated in a bath of red neon light, treating the defenders to what might be considered that most graphic freak show since the power to the local cinema was cut.
The first thing Ross noticed was that seeing the field and shooting at the zombies had suddenly become easier. The second thing he noticed, whether to his horror or delight, was that the zombies were incredibly flammable. He lowered the rifle, and watched one of the zombies bust into red flame. It immediately bumped into another, spreading the fire. The man beside Ross lowered his rifle as well, watching the carnage unfold in the fields beyond the wall.
“Where there's smoke, there's fire,” Jill said as the entire field ignited.
“And burning flesh,” Ross muttered.
“Sorry, what?” The man next to him started to ask, then took a look at Ross's attire. “Nice outfit.”
Most people might have had a snappy comeback, but for some reason it was all Ross could do not to punch him in the mouth and toss him over the wall. It might have been an overreaction, but words simply could not describe the anger he was suddenly feeling.
“I think we're done here,” Ross said as he turned away and descended the makeshift stairs, away from the fire.
“You could really work on your relationships with other people,” Jill said, once again walking beside him.
“I don't think it matters,” Ross replied.
“Why not?”
“I don't know the guy, and I'm not trying to make new friends.”
“You need people to protect you, you're fourteen years old, in the middle of the zombie apocalypse.”
“Fifteen,” Ross corrected. “I'm fifteen years old, and I can take care of myself.”
“Correct me if I'm wrong,” Jill said, standing in front of him to cut him off. “But as I understand it, you were going to kill a lot of people in your school. Well, you only had five bullets, so you weren't going to get the entire student body, but you could have done some significant damage. Now, imagine you'd succeeded, and the zombie apocalypse had never happened. Do you know what would have happened then?”
Ross shrugge
d and tried to move around her, but she simply stepped in his way. He briefly wondered if he could walk through her. She wasn't really here, was she? He dismissed this thought as she began speaking again.
“Let's see how this would work out...” Jill said with a smile. Suddenly, Ross was no longer standing in the street beside the apartment complex. The red brick buildings and trees were replaced by a 6x6 white washed room with concrete walls, a steel toilet, and what passed for a bed, chained to the wall for support, and equipped with a thin green mattress. A quick look around the room revealed what appeared to be a door, but from this side there was no handle or knob. He immediately sprang from the bed and ran toward the oversized door, slamming against it, palms first, hoping it would swing open. It was no use, it didn't even budge.
“Hello?” Ross called out as he pounded his fists against the door. “I need help! Is someone out there? Anyone?”
No one came, so he pressed his face to the door, peeking through the thin window slot. There was a hallway outside, but he couldn't see much. Directly across the hall was another door, similar to his, though he could see the number '419' printed in broken industrial lettering. As panic began to rise, he pounded against the door again, screaming at the top of his lungs. Without warning, the face of a man appeared in the window slit. He was tall, dark, and wearing a uniform. He had a badge. Was this a police officer? After a series of clanks, the door swung open, revealing what indeed looked like a massive, muscular police officer.
“Oh, thank God,” Ross said. “Can you tell me where I am?”
The officer smirked and shook his head.
“That's good kid,” he said, setting a suit of clothes on the mattress. “If you're going to plead insanity that's the way to go, but they already tried you, and found you guilty. Your ass belongs to the state now. You're lucky, damn lucky that your face has to look pretty for court, otherwise I'd have half a mind to grind you into sausage. There'll be plenty of that at the big house though, just have to be patient. Now change into them clothes, you've got court in an hour.” He obviously meant 'hour, but the way he pronounced it was 'howa'.
The realization hit him like a ton of bricks. The zombie apocalypse, Jill, all of it had been a figment of his imagination. He had carried out his plan at school, he had killed those people, and here he was sitting in his jail cell, waiting for a jury of his peers to pass his sentence.
“Oh god,” he said, crumpling onto the bench, wishing he could disappear as the reality of the situation came to him. “Oh, god no.”
“Oh, God yes, now put your damn clothes on, or I'll hit you where it won't leave bruises,” The officer said, tightening his hand around a baton attached to his utility belt.
Ross obliged, slowly changing into the suit and tie, then was instructed to turn around. He was handcuffed and unceremoniously pushed into the long white hallway. He was bathed in florescent light as they neared the end, squinting the entire way. He couldn't spend the rest of his life in a place like this, he just couldn't.
At the end of the hallway another door opened, and he was dragged into yet another white washed room. This time his hands were cuffed in front of him and shackles were placed around his legs.
“You don't have to do this,” he said to the officers. “I'm not dangerous.”
“You just shut the hell up,” One of the officers said as he tightened the cuffs around Ross's wrists. Ross winced but said nothing further.
“Told him already,” The hulk-like officer said. “He's lucky we have to make him pretty for court, otherwise...”
“Damn right, my daughter goes to that school,” Another officer said as they finished cuffing him, and moved him toward a door. Six uniformed officers in all walked him out of the building and shoved him into a waiting van. Moments later, he was being led into a courtroom, and the attitude of the officers had changed significantly. They began to ask him if he needed anything, and if he was comfortable as they sat him down at the defendant’s table in the courtroom.
“All rise for Judge Kerry,” The bailiff said moments later. They went through the rising and sitting portion, and the judge began to speak, his raspy voice filling the courtroom. He was required by law to keep a professional demeanor, but Ross could see that this man hated him. He looked around the courtroom, to the spectators, to the prosecuting attorney, and even the courtroom staff. They all hated him. He was the main attraction here, and they all hated him.
“Before we begin the sentencing phase, we'll have some statements from the friends and family of the victims. The first statement is...” The judge shuffled through his papers. “Jill Hershberger.”
Ross's heart leapt. Was this his Jill? He never knew her last name, but could this be her? She made her way to the front of the courtroom, and Ross knew her immediately. Her hair was up, and she was wearing a formal black dress, but he knew it was her.
“Go ahead, Miss,” The judge said to her.
Jill looked directly at Ross, her eyes cold and uncaring. This was an expression he'd never seen on her face. The courtroom was silent, and one could have easily heard a pin drop on carpet as and unfolded a piece of paper and began to read.
“I hate you,” She spat, looking partially at the paper, and partially at Ross. “I never had a problem with you in school, but you had a problem with my boyfriend. You walked up to him in the locker room, you put a gun in his face, and you shot him dead, even though he begged you not to. You ruined my life, and you're a waste of life. I hope they kill you in prison. I hope they make you beg for your life and kill you.”
“Wait!” Ross screamed. “Jill, I'm not that person, Jill, I love you!” He couldn't believe those word were coming out of his mouth.
“Counselor, restrain your client!” The judge shouted, banging his wooden gavel.
“Jill, listen to me!” Ross shouted, trying to propel himself over the wooden table as he watched the tears stream down Jill's face, her hand pressed against her forehead. “Jill!”
Suddenly, it was gone. All of it. The courtroom, the judge, the Bailiff, and most importantly, the shackles. All that was left, was Jill, and she was standing right in front of him, back in the gated community where they'd started.
“Second chances,” Jill said with a smile. “they're great, aren't they?”
Ross began to answer, but was cut off as the image of Jill was replaced by Amanda, running directly through her and completely displacing Jill, or at least what passed for Jill in Ross's mind.
“Are you okay?” Amanda asked him. He nodded. “Ready to go home?” He nodded once again, and they began the short walk back to her house, to Sarah, and Jamie.
Chapter 9
Attention listeners, we have lost all contact with government and civilian agencies, including the Red Cross. We know there are a few military organizations still functioning, including Major Asshole, but we have reason to believe that most of the world, or at least our corner of the world, has been infected with the disease. To anyone still listening to this broadcast, God be with you. You're going to need him.
“What do we have?” Dunfield asked the young sergeant walking alongside him down the road nearest the PX.
“This base sits next to Fairborn, Ohio,” the Sergeant said, showing Dunfield a manila folder, stocked with fresh reports regarding the area they were attempting to commandeer. “Population before the event was about 40,000, population now is estimated at 2,152.”
All around them the sound of gunfire emanated, the loud roar echoing and providing complimentary punctuation for both their thoughts and sentences. The base had been taken for the most part, but Dunfield still needed soldiers, and the selection at Wright Patterson seemed to be lacking when they came across it. A few privates and NCO's had survived, but many lacked the muster that Dunfield needed for his offensive.
“Assets in the area?” Dunfield inquired, looking at the paper map.
“We liberated two old M1 Abrams from the old motor pool; they're analogue, so we don't need to look for O-
P9 cells to keep the support systems running.”
“Only two?” Dunfield raised an eyebrow. Surely there had to be more available in the motorpool than that.
“Affirmative, Major,” the sergeant replied, “it takes six people to drive a tank, and we were lucky to find enough people for two. One of the tanks doesn't have a main gunner, just a turret operator.”
“Alright,” Major Dunfield had no choice but to agree with that logic. “Make sure you get those qualified operators to drop some knowledge on the raw recruits.”
“Affirmative, Sir,” the sergeant replied. He had already thought of that, but with Dunfield's reputation, he certainly didn't want to open his mouth. “The current M1's are parked at key entrances, notable Col. Glenn Highway and one north of town. It keeps the baddies out, but also keeps the people in.”
A brilliant deception. The tanks, while clearly there for protection, were also outstanding for population control. Before the event, the government had used other means to keep people confined to a single location, though they were far less noticeable. One example of course would have been the skyrocketing price of gas, while another would be a heavy reliance on technology. The government had the ability to roll out a free Wi-Fi network at little cost to themselves; however, they found it more prudent to force the common man to hold down a job, and therefore leave his place of residence very infrequently.
Technology, it would seem, created invisible cages in the old world, but in this brand new world, Dunfield's world, it would be necessary to use fear and brute strength, assuming patriotism wasn't a good enough cause for obedience. While Dunfield had no plans to become a tyrant, the obedience of the general population WAS necessary. The best way to describe it, was as a well-oiled machine.
Zombies Ate My Neighbors, Family & Friends (Book 2) Page 7
