The Apocalypse Chronicles (Book 3): Rebirth [Undead]

by DeLeon, Jon

  The Russian Cabin: Outbreak Day +75

  If only Brannon could see me now, Kurt thought to himself. He looked around and spotted a pine tree with sap running down its trunk. He jogged over and touched it. Still frozen. Well when it gets warmer, I'll fix it. Until then, I guess I should practice my singing.

  The Russian Cabin: Outbreak Day +75

  The sun had just set, and the cold night was fighting to penetrate the small cabin, a chilling wind whistling through a small crack in the joint of the door. Tyler was sitting on his bed as Kurt was adding more wood to the fire. "That wind sounds vicious," Tyler said softly, barely filling his lungs with air before saying it. Taking a full breath was still excruciating, his bruised rib fighting against his diaphragm.

  "Yeah, it's really loud in these woods," Kurt said as he closed the door to the stove.

  Tyler coughed. It hurt his bruised rib. "Fuck! Arg!" Tyler hit the bed with his fist as he lay down.

  Kurt asked, "Are you all right, man?"

  Tyler took a second to answer, letting his anger calm. "Yeah, I'm okay. This rib just fucking hurts."

  "Sorry, man," Kurt said sympathetically.

  "Don't be. You pulled me out of the river. This is just how my life goes. This is just a typical pattern," Tyler said.

  "Don't say that, man."

  "No, man, I'm serious." Tyler's tone was getting more and more depressing. "My whole life, I've always gotten screwed. When things start going good, they always turn worse, always."

  "Come on." Kurt tried to cut him off, but Tyler didn't let him.

  "No, seriously! As a kid, I always grew up alone. Then finally I'd make a good friend and my family would move. Then for the first few months, I would get picked on and my ass beat by the school bully, until he got bored. Then I'd make a friend and we'd move again, just starting that pattern over. No one there for me, except some dick kid pounding on me. Do you know what that feels like?"

  "I know what bullying feels like, but Joe always stepped in and made sure it didn't get too far," Kurt said.

  "See, at least you had someone there for you! I finally found someone. Someone who would make sure I was never alone again, who loved me and I had fun with. Then I married her and what happens next to me? A zombie apocalypse. Even after surviving that, we all start to live a good life in our little camp in the woods, and then zombies attack again! I survive, barely, and then you and I are reunited. Now I'm stuck in this little fuckin' cabin with a broken rib." Tyler was ranting.

  "With me too. You're right. You're screwed!" Kurt said laughingly.

  “Ha ha, funny. Seriously, dude. My whole life is a grind. It's just been about my ability to survive, to rise above and keep going. I just want some peace and an easy life, but God hates me.”

  "Do you think peace and ease is possible in this zombie world?" Kurt asked with a sad tone to his voice.

  "Depends," Tyler responded. "What is peace and ease to you?"

  Kurt thought for a moment. "I guess not having to wonder if you're going to be eaten every day."

  "You know what peace and ease is for me?" Tyler asked.

  "What?" Kurt replied.

  "Home. I'm going to find my family, and we are going to have a good old-fashioned barbecue. I want brats, ribs and coleslaw . . . oh, and beer, lots of beer." Tyler closed his eyes, living in his fantasy. “That's my fantasy.”

  "I don't have family." Kurt fought tears back, sinking into a depressed state.

  "You have me," Tyler answered.

  "I thought you were stuck with me here?" Kurt said, sarcastic and a little sharp.

  Tyler didn't even register Kurt's attitude. "You get me home and you'll live like a king. My parents and siblings will repay you a million times over with house and food."

  "You make it sound like I'm your servant earning his keep."

  "Sounds good to me." Tyler laughed. "What do you miss most from the world before this?"

  "My brother." Kurt fiddled with a loose piece of a floorboard.

  "Sorry, man. We're both victims of this evil fate. Cursed with surviving and having to live with the pain," Tyler said, sympathetically.

  "Yeah," Kurt barely uttered.

  "I miss baseball," Tyler said, with a little perk in his voice.

  "Baseball?" Kurt asked, confused.

  "Yeah, going to the ballpark, sitting in those stands, drinking a flat beer and eating a cardboard hot dog. Watching your team win on a walk-off homer. The crowd yelling in unison." Tyler's face was aglow.

  The pain and feelings of loss that Kurt was feeling stole his tact. "Interesting you didn't say Liz."

  The look of happiness eroded from Tyler's face. "Let's get some sleep," he said flatly.

  Kurt felt like he should apologize, but he didn't. If he was going to live in this evil world, he wouldn't do it alone. This life was a journey of tragedy to tragedy, just trying to limp along. There was no such thing as true happiness or ballpark revels. Kurt quoted a song lyric under his breath as he lay on the ground and looked at the ceiling: "The world is a vampire, sent to drain."

  Kurt was standing on a pedestal. He was looking over a giant spinning roulette wheel on the ground. A ghastly hand appeared out of the ether and put a white ball on the table, letting it drop. Kurt watched as the ball bounced around, clinking off the roulette wheel’s metal walls. It collided with one of the numbered borders and leapt into the air, past Kurt's face. As it passed, Kurt stared in shock as he could see a skull and crossbones frozen inside the glass.

  It fell back to the spinning wheel, continuing its careening. After a few more bounces, it settled into a numbered section. The disk stopped spinning, and the number melted into text. It read “Joe dies because of Kurt.”

  "NO! No!" Kurt screamed.

  A large flat-screen TV lowered from the black sky. Kurt saw a video begin. He had to watch, suddenly unable to move or yell, as his phone call rang loudly, giving away Joe's hiding position. The undead descended on Joe as he screamed.

  Kurt fought against the silence, finally breaking through. "No! That's not right!"

  An unknown voice answered him. "You don't have a choice. You're a victim of fate. Your life is in my control now.

  The wheel began spinning again. Another ball fell into play.

  "No! I'm the master of my dreams!" Kurt railed.

  "This is your life, not your dreams," the voice answered back.

  "I'm the master of that too!" Kurt jumped, reaching for the ball. He latched both hands around it. As he fell with the ball to his certain death, he suddenly felt content.

  Kurt lurched awake. He surveyed his surroundings. He was still on the floor of the Russian cabin. What the hell, he thought. Shaking his head, he promised himself, no matter what, I will always fight against fate and destiny. This life is my choice. I will never be a victim again.

  La Vida Dulce: Outbreak Day +74

  Cough. Cough! "God, this cold sucks," Jolie whined while lying on the couch in the living room of the Marquis.

  "You really should go to bed, Jolie," Kira said from the captain's chair, where she sat steering.

  "No, it's my turn to pilot.” Cough. “I may feel terrible, but I'm not going to leave you alone. You and Joe are already doing more driving than you're supposed to."

  Kira turned, facing Jolie, happy with the boat's current course. "First of all, we changed it so that the shifts are only four hours each rotation now. I can do anything for four hours. Sitting here isn't that hard. Second, sleep will help you heal faster, and then you can have this midnight to 4:00 a.m. shift all to yourself if you want."

  Jolie laughed, inducing a coughing fit. Cough, cough, cough, COUGH! "Ouch! That hurt."

  "Seriously, Jolie, get some sleep. Feel better."

  "Okay, I guess you're right." Jolie sat up from the couch. She reached out and grabbed a bottle of NyQuil. "Thank God you guys have cold medicine."

  "It's nice to see the medicine Joe and Aaron hoarded actually coming to use," Kira said.


  "Are you sure you're okay?" Jolie asked.

  "I'm fine," Kira responded. "Besides, I only have two hours left."

  "Well good night then," Jolie said, turning and heading downstairs.

  "See you in the morning!" Kira said back.

  Kira sat back in the captain's chair and looked out the window. She could still see the small lights shining on the boat ahead of her and the massive tanker to her right side. She adjusted their course to move a little farther away from the tanker. A small adjustment and a few seconds later, La Vida Dulce was well spaced out from the other ship again. Kira put her feet up, settling in for two more hours of small adjustments and staring at a black sea.

  It had been about twenty minutes of looking out into the darkness when Kira saw something. She had been daydreaming, so she doubted her eyes. She rubbed the tiredness out of them and refocused her vision. It was still there. A boat was coming toward them with their running lights turned off.

  "Talk about breaking protocol," Kira murmured to herself, reaching for the radio handset. It was set to the security channel. "This is La Vida Dulce, we've got a spacing issue going on."

  Ricahrd commanded back over the radio. "Maintain your spacing. Don't get closer to any ships."

  No shit. Kira answered back, "No, it's not me. I've got a ship coming at me."

  There was a pause. Then Ricahrd came back over the radio. "Can you see which ship it is?"

  Kira strained against the darkness. She saw the flash of the rifle before the bullets tore through the windshield. Kira dove to the ground as glass shattered and rained down around her. She covered her head and curled into a ball. "Joe!" she screamed.

  La Vida Dulce: Outbreak Day +74

  Joe had been enjoying a deep sleep, aided by the dark quiet night and rocking of the ship. Glass breaking and Kira screaming had violently pulled him from his dream. It took only a moment before a second scream from Kira came echoing down the stairs. His body was instantly filled with adrenaline. He tore the covers off and jumped to the door, slowing only enough to grab his pistol from the floor. As he opened the door, bullets penetrated the hull of the ship and kitchen cabinets, sending wood chips into the air in front of Joe.

  Jolie stumbled out of her bedroom. Before she could even ask what was going on, Joe pulled her to the floor, yelling, "Stay low!" Jolie was out of it, feverish and drowsy from the cold medicine.

  "What . . . what's?" she forced out.

  "Get to the kids! Keep them low," Joe yelled, shoving her toward the kids’ room. He half ran, half crawled up the stairs, bullets still piercing the boat and trying to kill him. He spotted Kira on the floor. He dove to her, covering her with his body. She jolted, pushing away until she saw it was Joe. Together they crawled behind the TV console, sitting against it for cover. "What's happening?" Joe asked Kira.

  "I don't know!" she screamed in his ear.

  "You don't have to yell. It's not loud," Joe said back. "Wait, it's not loud." The gun blasts still persisted in the night, but this time, there was no glass breaking. It was chattering loudly outside, but the bullets weren't hitting their boat. Joe and Kira peered over the TV, looking out a broken window. The boat that had been firing on them was easily visible in the spotlight of the security ship. The two of them were in a gunfight. Joe scanned the horizon; the convoy had veered away from the battle and was now far off. A massive fireball lit the night sky. Someone on the security ship had fired a rocket and connected with the other boat.

  After a few minutes of silence, only a fiery husk sinking into the waves remained of the aggressive ship. Over the radio, Ricahrd's voice sounded. "La Vida Dulce. Y'all okay?"

  Joe grabbed the handpiece. "Yeah. We're here. Was that a pirate or something?"

  "I wish I could say it was," Ricahrd answered. "It was actually another boat from the convoy."

  "Another boat from the convoy?" Joe asked angrily.

  "Like I said, some people are not happy about you skipping the month wait."

  "They could have killed us," Joe spat out over the radio. "Aren't you security? Isn't it your job to make sure shit like this doesn't happen?"

  "Look, I've tried to stay on top of it. We've heard rumors about something happening but weren't sure what. We have been running extra patrols to stay alert, but we can't stop everything." Ricahrd was defensive.

  "Stop anything, you mean," Joe said back. "So should we expect more of this?"

  "No," Ricahrd answered. "Everyone knows the repercussions of breaking the convoy rules now."

  Joe looked out the window as the last piece of fire on the hull of the ship disappeared beneath the waves. He's probably right.

  "Do you need any medical attention?" Ricahrd asked.

  "I think we're—" Joe was interrupted by Jolie yelling from below.

  "Joe! Get down here quick!" Jolie yelled in a terrified tone.

  Joe and Kira rushed down the stairs. They found Jolie standing in front of the kids’ door, blocking it, holding it shut with her body.

  Kira's face went pale, and she began crying unintentionally. "Jolie, what happened? Are they okay?"

  Jolie answered back as clear as her fever would allow. "They're fine."

  "Oh my god," Kira exhaled more than said. She tried to go to the door, but Jolie stopped her.

  "No! Don't open the door!"

  "Why, what's wrong, Jolie?" Joe asked.

  "Let me past," Kira said as she tried to force Jolie out of the way. They started wrestling. Jolie shoved Kira so hard that Kira fell backward, piling into Joe. Joe caught her.

  "Look!" Jolie exclaimed, pointing toward the bedroom.

  Joe and Kira saw what Jolie was so afraid of. On the floor of the master bedroom was the silver case that held the vials of Enerjax booster. It had been hit by several bullets, causing it to open and spill several of the vials out onto the ground, some of which had broken and spilled their liquid.

  "Are we?" Jolie asked.

  Transatlantic Convoy Security Ship: Outbreak Day +74

  "Hello? Are you there?" Ricahrd said into the radio. He was answered by silence. Just a few moments ago, the person talking to him from the ship named La Vida Dulce had stopped talking midsentence. Now there was no response. "La Vida Dulce. Joe Feller. Come in." Still nothing.

  "That's it," Ricahrd said, putting down the radio. "Let's get over there." He nodded, giving the command to his boat driver. The engines churned as they turned toward La Vida Dulce.

  Joe's voice came over the radio, nervous and screaming. "Stay away! Do not come closer or you risk death!"

  "Did he just threaten us?" Ricahrd asked his driver. Before the man even had the chance to shake his head, Joe came back on the radio.

  "We may have an issue here. Stay back."

  "If you have an issue, then we definitely are coming. It's our job to protect the convoy," Ricahrd said back.

  "No!" Joe's voice screamed through the speakers. "You must stay away!"

  "What is going on?" Ricahrd yelled back.

  "We . . . we may have an Enerjax outbreak," Joe said kind of timidly.

  "What?" Ricahrd's face filled with heat. "I was clear about the rules!"

  "It's not what you think . . ."

  "Then you better explain it fast! I just killed people to protect you! There were children on that boat! And you're carrying Enerjax!" Ricahrd turned to his driver, purposefully leaving the radio open so Joe could hear. "Prepare another rocket!"

  "Whoa! Whoa! Wait a minute!" Joe yelled back.

  "You better give me a good reason not to sink you right now!"

  "Look, I wasn't supposed to say, but the mayor sent us on a mission with Enerjax enhancer that can help us win the war with the zombies. It's why we got to skip the month wait. The leader of Newlantis is waiting on it. The booster shouldn't be dangerous if you're not infected, but the vials were shot and spilled, so I just want to make sure we don't turn. Okay?"

  Ricahrd thought for a moment before responding. "We need to get to the convoy. Rejoin
in your place in the spacing. We'll stay close. When you know you're in the clear, we need to meet, in person."

  Joe came back. "Okay."

  The boat driver asked Ricahrd, "What are you thinking, sir?"

  Ricahrd replied, "I have a plan."

  Transatlantic Convoy Tanker: Outbreak Day +74

  Joe carefully stepped up the water-slick scaffolding that lined the outside of the nearest tanker ship. He was being escorted by Ricahrd and another member of the security team. Joe had never seen this other man; he was large and burly, and sported a long seaworn beard. They all ducked under a doorway as they turned to head into the bowels of the ship. After a few minutes of twisting corridors and stairs, they reached an internal room. As Joe stepped in, he surveyed the simple room. There were no windows, no portholes and nothing but a table in the space. Joe was on edge from the short journey. None of them had said anything during the entire boat ride from La Vida Dulce or while walking to this room. The only communication any of them had made was Ricahrd waving a hello at the captain of the tanker, an older man who had been standing in the pilot house, lighting a smoking pipe.

  Joe flinched as the burly man closed the door and latched it shut behind them. They were locked in a room with only one exit. It had only been a few hours since the attack. The sunlight would be creeping over the horizon soon outside, but now they were so deep, light would never reach them. Joe gripped the handle of the silver case carrying the Enerjax booster tightly. He was nervous. This was a situation he didn't like being in. Joe tried to steady himself. If they wanted to kill me, they would have done it already, Joe thought. Assess the room. Nothing. One door, but there is no way I'm getting past that man.

  Joe looked closer at the burly man who had just locked them inside. He was sort of overweight but not enough to call him fat, more likely strength by size. The man reminded Joe of drawings of Paul Bunyan that he had seen as a kid, just with a saltier beard. Joe shifted his attention to Ricahrd. He had heard his voice plenty, but this was the first time he’d had a good chance to look at him. The blue UV+ light bulb lit the room brightly enough that Joe could get a good approximation of the man who had demanded this meeting, and saved his life not long ago. Ricahrd was younger than he sounded on the radio. He couldn't be a day over twenty-seven, although the stress of the new world and his job clearly wore on him. He was good-looking by most standards, standing about six foot four, with flowing hair that reached to the bottom of his jawline and an unkempt short beard barely hiding a his square chin. He was clearly in good shape, his muscles easily visible through his coat. Joe and Ricahrd stood staring at each other, each assessing the man standing in front of him.