HVZA (Book 2): Hudson Valley Zombie Apocalypse 2

by Zimmermann, Linda

  “Who are you?” the brother demanded. “Are you that Army doctor?”

  Becks weighed her options—which were precious few—but before she could respond, the latest blow to her nervous system caused a few involuntary twitches in her eye, face, and hands. Both the brother and Ned audibly gasped and took a step backward. At that moment, Becks recalled something Jennifer had told her—the brothers and Ned were deathly afraid of the zombie infection, to the point where she not only had to clean the entire house every day, she had to disinfect it with bleach, top to bottom.

  A plan, or at least the start of a plan, crystallized in Becks’ abused brain and she actually chose not to speak. Instead, she spit. Twice.

  Dr. Rebecca Truesdale gathered up all the saliva she could muster and spit half of it on the brother, and the other half on Ned. She then peeled off her leather jacket, pushed back her sleeves, and displayed her multiple bite scars, which still clearly showed the unmistakable outlines of human teeth.

  “I was infected the day I got here!” she said, somehow finding the strength to stand and take a step forward, which prompted the two terrified men to take another step back. She then faked some more twitching before she continued. “I’m in the terminal stages, and I could switch any moment. And yes, I am Dr. Rebecca Truesdale, so I can tell you in no uncertain terms that my saliva, and my very breath, contain millions of ZIP eggs that are now finding their way into your sinuses, that scrape on your face, your mouth, your eyes, that cut on your foot.”

  “Stay back, or…or I’ll shoot!” the brother said with a quivering voice, much too frightened to be convincing.

  “And risk spraying my infected blood with all those mature parasites all over you? I don’t think so. Now you listen to me! I can cure you, but we have to get to my labs at the Picatinny Arsenal or West Point. And the sooner the better. Your choice. Do you want to kill your only chance at survival, or are we going to work together and save ourselves?”

  Of course, the Eradazole which Becks had been carrying with her the day of the accident, even though it had been compromised, was still viable enough to prevent infection from her zombie bite wounds. But between the bite scars, a few more well-timed twitches, and the men’s extreme paranoia, she was banking on her bluff at least keeping her from being shot immediately, and possibly buying her some time.

  “Parasites!” Ned yelled in an unnaturally high-pitched voice for a man his size. “What are we going to do?”

  “Bleach!” the brother screamed. “Where’s the fucking bleach?”

  Both men exited the room in a panic, but did not neglect to lock the door behind them. Becks ran to the one window, but unfortunately found security bars across it that wouldn’t budge. As she tossed the contents of the cabinets and desk drawers looking for some kind of weapon, she heard the door being unlocked again.

  So much for buying time, she thought.

  To her astonishment, however, it was Eddie who limped in.

  “I thought you were dead!’ Becks whispered, heading for the door.

  “Not completely,” Eddie replied, managing a grin on his bruised and bloodied face. “Come on, let’s go down to the basement. There are too many guards outside. Oh, and here, you may need these.”

  Eddie handed Becks a box containing her pistols, knives, and night vision goggles, which he had liberated from the hands of a guard whose neck he had just snapped in two. Becks wasn’t thrilled with the idea of remaining in the house, but it was probably the last place they would think of looking for them. Eddie had thought the same thing, which was why the second he hit the ground he ran right back into the house and down into the basement.

  He had overheard the brother yelling about bleach and the infected woman in his office, heard the front door slam, and then watched through a basement window as the brother and Ned stood on the front lawn and poured bottles of bleach on themselves, and gargled with copious quantities of mouthwash—even pouring it in their noses until they choked. He assumed Becks was still alive and had somehow put the fear of god—or at least zombies—into them.

  With everyone, save a single guard, outside running around looking for him, Eddie simply walked upstairs, dispatched the guard, and liberated Becks. They had bought themselves some time, but whether it would be enough time to get away remained to be seen.

  “Your leg is bleeding way too much,” Becks said, using her flashlight to examine the deep gash. “I need to stitch you up or you’re going to be too weak to do anything.”

  “Yeah, that would be nice, but I think I left my sewing kit in my other pants,” Eddie replied sarcastically, and then winced as Becks poked and prodded the gaping machete wound.

  “Are you kidding me?” Becks said, spreading her arms wide. “This is the embalming room of a funeral home! Do you have any idea of the variety of needles and miles of sutures funeral homes use every year to prepare bodies?”

  “No, I don’t have any idea,” he said, not comfortable with the glint in Becks’ eyes or her knowledge of embalming. “How come you know that? Just what kind of a doctor are you?”

  “The kind who had so much tuition debt that she had to take a part time job in a funeral home one summer.”

  Becks rose to her feet—a little too fast—and Eddie had to grab her arm to steady her. She explained that she was dizzy due to being tackled by the Big Gorilla, on top of her two previous head injuries.

  “Yeah, about that…” Eddie began awkwardly, “I’m sorry I lost it and almost got us killed.”

  “Hey, you just lost your wife. I never should have agreed to doing this tonight in the state you were in. We could have just left like Jennifer said, and come back another time if you still wanted to.”

  Becks was trying to be gracious under the circumstances, when she really wanted to slug him for going postal, but she had no idea what had really flipped Eddie’s switch until he explained.

  “Oh god, a little girl?” Becks said, feeling sick to her stomach. “I probably would have lost it, too.”

  They discussed possible courses of action while Becks rummaged around, assembling a nice collection of all manner of scary-looking needles, a box of sutures, and some isopropyl alcohol. Her vision was a little blurry, and her hands weren’t exactly steady, but she had to close the wound and stop the bleeding, so she had no choice. She handed Eddie a towel and told him to roll it up and bite down on it.

  “This is going to hurt like a mother,” she warned a moment before she poured some alcohol into the jagged slice in his thigh.

  Eddie’s body tensed like a coiled spring, but amazingly he didn’t cry out. He even managed to hold the flashlight steady, despite her having to thrust the long, curved needle in pretty deeply several times. Since he was doing so well, she went right ahead and stitched up a gash on his cheek from the glass of the window he went through, and a couple of cuts on his hands he sustained in the fight with Ned. Becks’ eyes had streamed like faucets when she had to suture her own scalp, but Eddie remained stoic and his eyes stayed dry.

  “You are a better man than I am, Eddie Tasi,” Becks declared, as she tied off the last knot and began applying some makeshift bandages.

  “Oh, I don’t know,” he said thoughtfully, with a smile. “Pound for pound, you may be more of an ass-kicking machine. And you can sew better than most girls, too.”

  He knew that last crack would get a rise out of her, but they didn’t have time to continue the banter as shots suddenly rang out very close to the house. They both hit the floor and reached for their pistols.

  “Stop shooting, asshole!” a voice cried out, not far from the house. “It’s us, stupid!”

  Profuse apologies followed, as the guards who had been shooting at other guards ceased their friendly fire. Then there was an even bigger commotion inside the house, when it was discovered that a guard had been killed and Becks was gone, too.

  As neither Becks nor Eddie was in fighting or running shape, and it was starting to get light, they decided to hunker down in a dark
storage room in the basement, and pray that the brother didn’t order a complete house search. A tense hour later, when they heard some of the ATVs and motorcycles heading toward the front gate, they were more relaxed. Obviously, the remaining brother assumed the fugitives were running for their lives.

  It was hard to hear what was going on in the house from behind all the boxes in the store room, but they did hear someone shouting orders to Jennifer to “double-bleach everything.” They also heard two men being ordered to go out to one of the storage sheds to get a coffin for the dead brother. Becks didn’t need any light to know that Eddie was steaming over the thought that the evil, perverted brother would get a decent burial, while his angelic wife would be thrown in a shallow hole covered only in a tattered bed sheet. Still, he took some comfort in knowing he had put that brother in his grave.

  Fatigue soon got the best of both of them, and while they each tried to keep watch while the other slept, they were both soon fast asleep. It was late afternoon before they were awakened by the sound of footsteps coming down the basement stairs. It was remarkable how quickly two people curled up on the floor in a deep sleep could be standing with guns and machete drawn. They waited breathlessly, hoping the person would go only as far as the embalming room, but no such luck. The footsteps came right into the storage room, and the beam of a flashlight started weaving back and forth across the stacks of boxes.

  Becks and Eddie crouched down, which was no easy thing for a woman with a head injury and a man with stitches in his thigh, but they held their position, ready to spring, and waited to see if they would be discovered. Becks had made Eddie swear on his wife and child that he would stick to the stealth approach from now on, no matter what.

  Fortunately, the person seemed to be searching for something other than them, and as he or she was reaching for something on the other side of the storage room, he or she inadvertently knocked several boxes to the floor.

  “Oh my! Well, oh my heavens!” came the stern oaths from the cleaning woman who had been looking for more bleach.

  Becks considered remaining hidden, but they needed information. She motioned for Eddie to stay down, as she stood up.

  “Jennifer?” Becks whispered softly.

  “Oh my!” the startled woman gasped, bringing both hands to her chest. “Who is it? Who’s there?”

  “It’s me, Becks,” she replied, stepping out from behind the boxes with her hands raised, but turning her head as the flashlight beam caught her squarely in the eyes.

  “Oh good gracious! What are you doing down here?” Jennifer said as she swayed back and forth as if about to faint. “The entire town is out looking for you two. Where’s Eddie?”

  “He was badly wounded and jumped out the window,” Becks replied smoothly, not exactly lying, but not telling the whole truth, either. “They took me prisoner and were going to kill me, but I escaped and hid down here. Jennifer, could you please let me know what’s happening?”

  The timid woman hesitated, but she knew she was already in too deep for it to get any worse for her.

  “Well, of course I heard all that shooting last night. Then this morning they had me start cleaning and disinfecting the house again—and oh, the blood in the brother’s room! Oh my, it was a horrible scene. I didn’t see the body, but it must have been a terrible fight.

  “And I’ve never seen Mr. Riley in such an awful state, and not just because Eddie killed his brother. He keeps rambling on about being infected, and having to ‘find that Army doctor’…uh, b-word, he said, to save him. He has everyone out searching the streets in all directions. You’re to be brought back alive, but Eddie is to be shot on sight.”

  Becks just knew that Eddie was busting to know one other thing, so before he revealed himself, she posed the question.

  “What about Isabella’s body?”

  “Oh, yes, the poor dear. I was able to get some neighbors to bury her where Eddie asked me to. They took care of it first thing this morning, God rest her soul.”

  “Thank you so much for that, and for all you’ve done,” Becks said, placing a hand on the woman’s trembling shoulder. “And don’t worry, no matter what happens to me, no one will ever know you had any contact with us.”

  “I should get back upstairs with the bleach now,” Jennifer said, desperate to just get back to her work and to stay out of trouble.

  “Of course, of course, but before you go, is there anything else you can tell me that might help me escape? The sooner I’m gone, the sooner you can stop worrying.”

  “Well, they are having the wake for Mr. Riley tomorrow morning at 10 o’clock at the community center,” she said, now genuinely trying to be helpful if it meant getting rid of Becks. “Everyone is expected to go, at some point. And the burial will be tomorrow afternoon at the cemetery on the east side of town. Does that help?”

  “I don’t know, maybe,” Becks replied, not really sure how that information could be used, as they couldn’t possibly risk leaving in daylight. “Does that mean everyone will be out of the house tomorrow?”

  “Why yes, I guess so. At least until after the funeral. But I really have to go now. Good luck, I really hope you do get away safely and get back to your people.”

  With that, Jennifer took her two bottles of bleach and hurried upstairs.

  “What are you thinking?” Eddie asked, once Jennifer was gone.

  “I’m thinking we could both use another day to rest and recuperate. Tomorrow morning we get more food and water from upstairs when everyone is gone. Then tomorrow night—when everyone should be good and drunk if this will be a real Irish wake—we get the hell out of New Ridgelawn. What are you thinking?” she was almost afraid to ask.

  “The same thing, but with one addition. Anything in that embalming room that’s flammable?” he asked with a devilish look in his eyes.

  “Hell yes!” she replied, liking the direction of his thoughts, as they could use a diversion to escape. “Embalming fluid is mostly composed of formaldehyde and methanol, and I saw enough bottles in there to bring a tear to any arsonist’s eye.”

  Over a meal of their few remaining energy bars and a couple of bottles of water from the storage room, they began constructing the new Plan A.

  Chapter 11

  As darkness fell, an icy mixture of rain, sleet, and even some snowflakes made it miserable for the teams of people out searching for the fugitive murderer, Eddie Tasi, who had so ruthlessly and brutally butchered one of their leaders in cold blood. In truth, the majority of the population was ecstatic, and wished they had been the ones to do the deed. But if they wanted to be fed, they had to pretend to be outraged and heartbroken, and keep combing the streets within a few mile radius, or as far as the packs of zombies allowed.

  As for the Army doctor, they were told, she was obviously a deluded, innocent pawn of the evil Tasi, who had somehow tricked or threatened her into following the madman into his scheme of revenge. When she realized his awful plan to murder the brothers, she tried to stop him, but Eddie beat her unconscious and left her for dead. She was now out there somewhere, dazed and confused, and needed to be rescued and brought to safety. Under no circumstances, the search teams were warned, should the doctor be harmed in any way.

  As the cold, wet, hungry, and exhausted teams of searchers finally returned for the night, Becks and Eddie were quite warm and comfortable in the little “nest” they had built behind the boxes with some blankets and pillows they found in the storeroom. The pillows were actually coffin pillows, and their blankets were quilted coffin liners, but they tried not to think about it as they snuggled into their little nest to sleep, which they both did for many hours.

  It was full daylight by the time they woke up, and the scurrying and shuffling of footsteps above them was an indication of the preparations for after the funeral, when just a select group of the inner circle would be invited back to the house. Only the best booze and food would be served then. The cheap stuff would be for the public at the wake.

&nb
sp; Several times Becks and Eddie went on high alert as people came down into the basement, but each time they went to a different storeroom—the one that held the real essentials of beer, whiskey, canned peanuts, and bags of pretzels and chips. Once they overheard the men talking about all the food in the other room, Eddie tested his leg and found it felt good enough to make a quick dash to grab some Fritos, Wise potato chips, and two cans of Planter’s honey roasted peanuts. And what a wonderful breakfast resulted!

  After they gorged themselves on all the decadent, high-fat, junk foods, they went over their plans one more time. Then it was just a matter of waiting for everyone to leave the house for the wake. Half an hour after the last footsteps and door slamming, they cautiously made their way to the first floor. Becks was quite relieved to find she was steady on her feet and only had a slight headache, and Eddie, though quite sore all over, wasn’t bleeding from any of his wounds.

  They found the front parlor set up with a bar of the finest brands of alcohol, and empty serving trays and sterno that would be filled with fresh, hot dishes just as the guests arrived. Becks certainly had no interest in sampling any of the liquor, and Eddie was smart enough to refrain, as well, to keep his head clear.

  Instead, their objective was the former kitchen turned storeroom, with its cases of pasta, cereal and granola, energy bars, and candy—all light-weight food easily carried, providing good doses of carbs and calories to keep them going. Becks even found a case of Flintstones multiple vitamins, which not only brought back fond childhood memories, but reassured her that they would at least not become too deficient in anything anytime soon. Even after their packs and pockets were stuffed, Becks somehow found enough room for not one, but two, pound-sized bags of M&Ms.