Resurrection: A Zombie Novel

by Michael J. Totten

  Or maybe what sounded like faint tinnitus was really just the sound of the earth, of insects crawling on pavement and grass, of drifting and subducting tectonic plates, of oozing magma miles below, and the hum of the planet’s magnetic field. Maybe he was just imagining things. Maybe silence itself had a sound that he never noticed before because silence had never existed.

  Even the quietest night in his Seattle neighborhood had plenty of sounds: cars on the interstate, even though it was miles away; planes coming into the Sea-Tac airport from the East Coast and from Asia; trains on their way up to Vancouver in Canada; ships coming into Puget Sound from the ocean. All those things made noise. Even the wires in his house buzzed with electricity. Now there was nothing.

  It was worse at night when absolute silence met absolute darkness in a world full of absolute danger. Those things were somewhere out in that void. Hundreds of thousands of them just waiting for stimulus.

  But now he thought he heard Hughes’ truck somewhere in the distance.

  “Is that them?” Carol said.

  “Don’t know,” Parker said.

  “It has to be them,” Kyle said. “They’re actually a little bit late, and we haven’t seen another person in days.”

  Parker stood. Maybe that was Hughes and Frank’s truck and maybe it wasn’t. He picked up his freshly oiled Beretta M9.

  Kyle picked up a hammer.

  The vehicle pulled into the lot and stopped. Parker couldn’t see through the door since it was boarded up like the windows. He’d cut a tiny piece out of the plywood so he could reach the door’s locking mechanism, but that missing piece was only the size of the lock. He stood by the door and waited until he was sure it was Hughes and Frank outside before unlocking it.

  Parker heard Hughes’ voice. “We need to get inside. Those things are attracted to noise. We got lucky before.”

  Then he heard a woman’s voice. Who was that? He couldn’t quite make out what she said, but that definitely wasn’t Frank he was hearing.

  Parker opened the door.

  “Hey,” Hughes said.

  “Parker,” Frank said and nodded.

  Parker squinted at the light and saw the woman. She was covered head to toe in blood and matted gore. “Jesus Christ. What the hell happened to you?”

  “I’m okay,” she said. “My name’s Annie.” She wiped her hands on her pants. They came off no cleaner than before. He could tell she was thinking of shaking his hand, but she saw the look of disgust on his face and put her gross hands in her pockets instead.

  “Just get inside,” Parker said as he scanned the parking lot and the street outside. “And don’t touch anything until you get cleaned up and changed.”

  “We got some good stuff,” Frank said as he stepped through the door.

  “Shh!” Parker said. “Just get inside in case anything followed you.”

  That should be the last supply run for a while, Parker thought. If they kept going out there in the truck, eventually they’d bring dozens if not hundreds of those things back to the store on their tail.

  Hughes gestured for the woman named Annie to walk ahead of him. Parker stepped out of her way and locked the door behind Hughes. The amount of light in the store fell by half when he shut the door.

  “I’m Annie,” the woman said to Kyle and Carol.

  “Whoa,” Kyle said when he got a good look at her.

  “Oh, honey,” Carol said.

  “Sorry,” Kyle said. “I’m Kyle.” He tentatively reached out his hand and shook hers. “This is Parker and Carol. Come on, let’s get you cleaned up. There’s a sink in the back that still works.”

  This Annie person was a biohazard on legs.

  “She clean?” Parker said to Hughes.

  “I think so,” Hughes said.

  “You think so? Annie, your clothes will need to be burned.”

  “Oh,” she said. “My clean clothes are still in the truck.”

  “Just wait,” he whispered, annoyed. “We can unload the truck later. Right now we need to be quiet in case those things heard you pull in here.”

  Kyle took her into the back where the sink was.

  “Where’d you find her?” Parker asked Hughes.

  Hughes and Frank looked at each other.

  “She came running out of the trees,” Frank said, “looking like one of those things. You saw her. All that blood on her face and all over her shirt. She was waving her arms around and looking all crazy so Hughes shot at her.”

  “I take it you missed?” Parker said.

  “I fired the Mossberg as Frank swerved around a car,” Hughes said. “So, yeah, I missed. She’s really damn lucky.”

  Parker said nothing. He wasn’t thrilled to have another person around. With himself, Kyle, Hughes, Frank, Carol, and now this Annie person, there were six of them. An even number. Parker didn’t like even numbers. An even-numbered group could be deadlocked on decisions.

  And Parker didn’t like the looks of this Annie. She was what, twenty-five years old at the most? Kyle’s age and Carol’s gender. A crap combination. Could she pull her weight? Well, maybe. She had blood all over herself, which meant one of two things. Annie was about to turn into one of those things or she’d killed a bunch of those things. Parker couldn’t imagine Carol squishing a bug.

  “Something’s up with her,” Hughes said.

  Parker raised his eyebrows. “What?”

  “She doesn’t remember anything.”

  “Well, that’s just great.”

  “She knows who she is. She remembers everything except the last couple of months. She didn’t even know about the plague until Frank and I told her.”

  “Can you believe that shit?” Frank said.

  “She must be traumatized,” Carol said.

  “You think?” Parker said.

  Hughes grabbed Parker’s arm. Parker knew what that meant. Don’t be an asshole. Hughes was the only person Parker would let get away with that. Not that he could really stop him.

  Kyle returned from the back of the store.

  “Annie’s washing up,” he said. “She really wants to change out of those bloody clothes as soon as it’s safe to unload the truck.”

  Everyone got quiet. Parker stepped up to the door and pressed his ear against the plywood, the Beretta M9 in both hands. He heard nothing but the sound of the sink running in back as Annie washed up. “Quiet out there. We might be okay.”

  Ten more minutes, he thought, and if nothing comes and bangs on the windows and doors, they can slip out and unload the truck.

  Annie shut off the sink and Parker could hear his tinnitus again. Or the hum of the earth. Or whatever it was. He heard nothing else but his own heartbeat and his breathing.

  Kyle approached the door. He, too, placed his ear next to the boards. He didn’t seem to hear anything either.

  Parker thought that was too good to be true. Something had to be out there. They were in a town, for Christ’s sake.

  They both pressed their ears to the boards again.

  Then Parker heard something that sounded like footsteps on asphalt. Not the footsteps of a dog or a cat and certainly not a rat. Not a deer or a coyote or any other animal that might have wandered into town now that people were gone. No, Parker heard the footsteps of humans.

  Or things that used to be human.

  He and Kyle stepped away from the door.

  Parker twitched when Annie whispered from just behind him, “Is it clear?” He didn’t know she was there. He didn’t hear her sneak up on him. So that was a point in her favor. She knew how to move really damn quietly when she had to.

  “Shh,” Parker said.

  The footsteps outside grew louder.

  “They’re regular people,” Kyle said. “Not infected. Those footsteps sound normal.”

  The footsteps stopped outside the door. After a moment of silence, somebody knocked.

  Parker flicked his Beretta’s safety off.

  * * *

  Kyle felt a sur
ge of elation when he heard the knock on the door. More survivors!

  But Parker looked spooked. The man stepped back and pointed his pistol right at the door.

  “Who’s there?” Parker said.

  “Please,” said a man’s hushed voice outside. Kyle could barely hear him through the boards. “We’ve got wounded out here. We need help.”

  “How many are you?” Parker said.

  “There are three of us. Please.”

  “Are any of you infected?” Kyle said.

  “No. But we were attacked. Not by the infected, but by other people. Then we saw your truck. You’ve got to let us inside before they see us. They’re armed.”

  Kyle looked first at Parker and then at Hughes. Hughes nodded. So did Parker. Kyle unlocked the door and opened it.

  Outside stood three men wearing black and pointing pistols at Kyle’s face.

  “Shit,” Parker said.

  The man in the center, the tallest of the three, saw Parker’s gun and aimed his pistol squarely at Parker’s head.

  Kyle heard Carol skitter away, but he had no idea how the others were reacting. He could not take his eyes off the intruders and their guns. Kyle still held a hammer in his hand and wouldn’t let go of it.

  “You’d better let us in,” said the tall man, “before some of those things see us.” He was the one who had spoken through the door. The leader.

  “I thought you said you were attacked by people,” Parker said.

  “I did,” said the tall man.

  “Which of you is injured?” Kyle said.

  The tall man sighed. “None of us. But you will be if you don’t back up and get out of our way. We’re coming in.”

  Kyle stepped aside but kept hold of his hammer. The men stepped inside, but Parker stayed right where he was, barely a dozen feet away, and kept his handgun pointed at the intruders.

  “Bobby,” the tall man said. “Lock the door.”

  The one who answered to Bobby reached behind himself and closed the door. Half the light in the room vanished. Bobby fiddled with the lock.

  “Were you followed?” Kyle said.

  “We’re all clear. There’s nothing else out there. We’ve been searching the area for more than an hour. We could all pull our triggers right now and nothing would hear us.”

  “We pull, you die,” Parker said. He held his gun level.

  “You die too,” said the man. “And you die first. You can shoot one of us, but we will shoot all of you. So I strongly suggest you lower your weapons and that you do it now.”

  Kyle set down his hammer. Hughes held a crowbar, but he set it down a little more slowly and a lot more reluctantly. Parker wouldn’t budge. Kyle wasn’t sure he even blinked.

  “I am not setting my gun down,” Parker said.

  Kyle wasn’t sure if he should be glad Parker kept his weapon trained on the man or if Parker was being reckless. He was probably being reckless.

  “You’ll all die,” the man said.

  Definitely reckless.

  “The hell do you care?” Parker said. “You’ll be dead. It won’t make a rat’s-ass bit of difference to you if the rest of us die. So I know as a fact you aren’t pulling that trigger. You may as well stick that gun in your mouth and shoot your own brains out the back of your head.”

  The two men stared at each other. Nobody moved. Nobody breathed.

  “Guys—” Annie said, but Parker shushed her.

  “So we’re at an impasse,” the man said.

  “You’re goddamned right we are,” Parker said and took a step forward. All three straightened their arms and inched their guns closer. “And we’re at an impasse in my house. Step outside, and you’re free to go wherever you like. We won’t chase you. But if you don’t go, at least one of you dies. Maybe all three of you.”

  “Everybody relax,” Kyle said. “No one’s going to shoot anybody. We have plenty of food here and lots of space to spread out in.”

  “Kyle,” Parker said. “Pick up your hammer.”

  Kyle didn’t move. Was Parker nuts? This was no time to escalate.

  “Everybody just chill,” Kyle said. “We have plenty of food, plenty of water, plenty of space, and we obviously have plenty of weapons. We’re better off sticking together. We have no reason to fight, and if we work together we’ll be safer next time we’re attacked.”

  “He’s right,” said the tall man to Parker. “So why don’t you just drop the gun.”

  “Our house,” Parker said. “You drop ’em.”

  Kyle glanced at the faces of his companions. Hughes looked ready to rip heads from torsos and could probably do it if he wouldn’t get himself shot first. Frank looked too nervous to do anything. Annie seemed to be afraid of everyone in the room. Carol was nowhere to be seen, hiding in the walk-in cooler most likely.

  Somebody had to drop their gun first. And it was far more likely to be Parker since it was three against one. But he wasn’t going to drop it. He was going to get himself and possibly everybody else killed. So Kyle walked up to Parker and snatched the pistol out of his hands.

  Parker gasped. Bobby just chuckled.

  Kyle was surprised at how easy it was. And he was just as surprised that he did it. He didn’t plan on grabbing the gun. Didn’t think about it at all. He just reacted and suddenly found himself with Parker’s Beretta. He took a few steps back so Parker couldn’t grab it again, then set it down on the floor.

  “You’re a real stupid sonofabitch, you know that?” Parker said and raised his hands in surrender.

  “Okay,” said the tall man. “Everybody just take it easy. Bobby, Roland, put your guns away.” The two men holstered their weapons. “Now I’m putting mine away too.” He then tucked the pistol into the front of his pants.

  “Kyle,” Parker said and shook his head. He looked like he was about to say something else, but then he paused. He seemed to remember something, and Kyle thought he knew what it was. Parker had two more cleaned and oiled pistols next to the cash register in the checkout aisle. They weren’t visible from the door. Parker wanted to go for them. Kyle could sense it. And Kyle wouldn’t let him. He wasn’t about to tell the three strangers that there were guns over there, but he also didn’t want Parker picking one up and starting a shootout. So Kyle slowly moved to the checkout aisle himself and blocked the path to the register.

  Parker sighed. He knew what Kyle was up to.

  But Kyle was right to do it. The tension in the room had just been defused. He could understand why the three strangers came in with guns drawn. They had no idea who or what they might find in the store. The law had gone silent. There were no patrol cars out there, no sheriff’s deputies, no detectives, no jails, no judges, no justice. Everything and everybody was dangerous, including other survivors.

  Thanks to Kyle now, though, everybody’s gun was tucked away or at least on the floor. They could talk.

  “I’m Kyle,” he said, and stuck out his hand for the tall man. The tall man shook his hand and relaxed slightly.

  “Lane,” he said. “This here’s Bobby and Roland.”

  Bobby nodded curtly. Roland just stood there.

  “I’m Frank,” Frank said. “The big guy with the shotgun is Hughes.”

  Hughes eyed Frank sideways and nodded—suspiciously, Kyle thought—at Lane and his boys.

  “I’m Annie,” Annie said. “I’d say it’s nice to meet you, but—”

  “You’re covered in blood,” Lane said.

  “I’m not infected.”

  “You sure about that?”

  “She’s not,” Kyle said. He sure hoped he was right.

  Lane nodded, though a bit warily. He had no idea that the rest of them didn’t know Annie, that she was a stranger to all of them and had arrived for the first time just moments before.

  “Sorry for coming in here like this,” Lane said. “But it’s dangerous out there. I’m a police officer. You wouldn’t believe the things I had to deal with when everything was coming apart.” Then h
e checked himself. “Well, maybe you would.”

  “You were a cop?” Hughes said and tipped his head back.

  “Up in Seattle.”

  “Which precinct?” Hughes said he’d been a bail bondsman up there, so it stood to reason that he’d know some cops.

  “Fifty-seventh,” Lane said.

  “What do you think of Chief Berenson?” Hughes said.

  “The police chief?”

  Hughes said nothing.

  Lane shrugged. “He’s okay. Or he was anyway.”

  Everybody got quiet. Bobby and Roland’s body posture shifted an iota or two. They looked at each other. They looked at Parker. They looked back at Lane.

  Shit, Kyle thought.

  Lane nodded to Bobby.

  Bobby unholstered his weapon and pistol-whipped Parker. The gunmetal hit the side of Parker’s head with a hard and wet smack.

  Roland drew down on Hughes.

  Kyle took several steps back. Away from the hammer at his feet. Away from the Beretta he’d taken from Parker.

  Annie backed up too and covered her mouth with her hands.

  Frank said, “Sonofabitch.”

  CHAPTER THREE

  Parker woke and found himself crammed in a corner just past the cereal aisle with his wrists and ankles bound together with duct tape. Above him loomed a refrigerator stocked with warm cans of Red Bull. His head hurt like a bastard where—what was his name? Bobby?—cracked him upside the skull with the butt of his pistol.

  And his beard itched. He hadn’t shaved once since he escaped Seattle. He couldn’t be bothered. The hell did it matter what he looked like? Everyone looked like shit now. But the beard itched and his hands were tied so he couldn’t scratch it.

  That Lane character crouched next to him while lazily pointing his gun at the floor. “Morning.”

  Parker tried not to wince from the pain in his head.

  “We’ve been waiting for you to wake up,” Lane said. “I have an announcement to make. But I should first tell you we swept through the place and confiscated all of your weapons.”