Zombie Dawn Apocalypse

by Michael G. Thomas

  Table of Contents

  CHAPTER 1

  CHAPTER 2

  CHAPTER 3

  CHAPTER 4

  CHAPTER 5

  CHAPTER 6

  CHAPTER 7

  CHAPTER 8

  CHAPTER 9

  CHAPTER 10

  CHAPTER 11

  CHAPTER 12

  CHAPTER 13

  CHAPTER 14

  CHAPTER 15

  CHAPTER 16

  CHAPTER 17

  CHAPTER 18

  CHAPTER 19

  CHAPTER 20

  ZOMBIE DAWN APOCALYPSE

  by

  Michael G. Thomas & Nick S. Thomas

  PUBLISHED BY:

  Swordworks Books

  Copyright © 2011

  All rights reserved. Without limiting the rights under copyright reserved above, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise) without the prior written permission of both the copyright owner and the above publisher of this book.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, brands, media, and incidents are either the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of various products referenced in this work of fiction, which have been used without permission. The publication/use of these trademarks is not authorized, associated with, or sponsored by the trademark owners.

  * * * * *

  ZOMBIE DAWN APOCALYPSE

  * * * * *

  CHAPTER 1

  The March, United Kingdom

  Nick and Carter crept over the ridge that ran along the high riverbank. Behind them was the churning River Wye, thick with the recent heavy rains that also added a muddy colour to the surface. A narrow bridge crossed the river to the small medieval town of Chepstow. It was all that was left of the Green Zone, the area set up ten years ago as a stronghold in the zombie apocalypse. The town still retained parts of its ancient city walls as well as a largely intact castle running along the cliffs. Though its size was much reduced it was well defended by the river on one side that was flanked by steep cliffs and on the other by the rebuilt and reinforced medieval town walls that stood twenty feet tall and were made of thick stone and masonry.

  Nick had been fighting since the first days of the outbreak and it seemed liked the fighting had never stopped. From his escape in the early hours he had eventually taken over as leader of the scouting and combat sections of the Green Zone. His expertise in close quarter combat, and the group of vehicles he’d organised, had saved scores of people.

  To his side lay Carter, a survivor that he’d rescued years ago when being held as a prisoner by a motorcycle gang. In the following years he’d grown into a successful hunter and had proven a valuable fighter and scout.

  Both men wore a bizarre collection of clothing and equipment that made them look like a cross between an arctic explorer and a refugee. Their clothes were dull and repaired many times. They wore heavy boots and reinforced gloves and their arms and legs were protected by additional sections of armour made from pieces of car rubber. They also wore loose fitting bands around their necks to protect against throat bites. After ten years their equipment had changed to emphasise limb and neck protection, whereas most rookies protected the torso first. Carter carried a medium sized crossbow on his back along with a quiver containing scores of bolts. On his belt was a stag handled machete as big as his arm. Nick on the other hand still carried his folding crossbow on one side and his prized Glock 17 pistol that had been recovered a few years back from the bodies of four long dead policemen, presumably part of an armed response team. On his leg he carried a machete that was very similar to the one carried by Carter. The last piece of equipment though was his ‘bible chopper’, a weapon that was based on a medieval falchion, a single edge sword with a thick blade and a series of spikes running down the back of the tip. It looked like a weapon that most people would expect to be carried by a villain in a fantasy film. Incredibly though it was based on designs from an illustrated medieval bible. He’d picked it up before the outbreak when on holiday in Sweden.

  Nick looked back, spotting the town and its large castle behind him with its tattered flag still flying. He scanned the outskirts of the town with his binoculars, checking for any potential problems. It was a trip that he did everyday to ensure the safety of this last enclave in Britain. As far as they knew this was the only inhabited area left on the mainland, not that it mattered though, they weren’t going anywhere.

  “Looks clear,” said Carter.

  “Yeah,” replied Nick as he continued panning across the horizon.

  At least half of the town had been demolished in the last few years, mainly to fill the many gaps in the town walls and also to help build new sections where the old wall no longer existed at all. The original walls ran through the modern town so the buildings near it had been flattened with the end result that the town of Chepstow was now only a quarter the size that it used to be. The benefits were less space to defend, stronger defences and also more flattened space to use for industry and farming for the two hundred and twelve inhabitants still remaining.

  The only ways to safely cross the river was to use the narrow, long steel bridge that ran cliff top to cliff top or a much smaller bridge that was also barricaded near the castle. The main bridge was a modern structure designed for trucks and cars but for years now had been barricaded at both ends. It was the only way in from the east and pointed like an arrow into the heart of the town. Through his binoculars Nick could see the four guards that were always on duty guarding the bridge.

  He looked back at the ridge that lay ahead. The ridge was both the outer limit of their community and also marked the old borderline between the lands of Wales and England, a division that was now just a name, an irrelevance to both the living and the undead. Nick lifted himself up and moved forward with Carter moving off at his side. As they reached the ridge they looked down to the old widely spaced out suburbs of Tutshill. This area was now abandoned and much of it had been burnt in the various purging campaigns conducted by the defenders. Until three years ago it was still occupied, but growing pressure from the horde had pushed them back over the ridge and behind the safety of the river.

  Carter pointed out into the distance.

  “Can you see that?” he said.

  Nick looked carefully with his binoculars, always impressed with Carter’s keen eyesight. He looked out to the edge of the housing areas to the open space ahead. At first he couldn’t see anything unusual. He looked to the left and then spotted them, a group of people lurking near the abandoned trucks.

  “Oh yeah, I’ve got them,” he said as he stared intently.

  The group seemed to be about a dozen strong and they were moving around the long abandoned vehicles from one of the battles years ago. Nick cradled the binoculars to reduce the shake so he could examine them more carefully.

  “Are they survivors?” asked Carter.

  “I can’t tell yet, they’re too far away,” he replied.

  The two men continued examining the area for any other signs but the group was the only change on the landscape they’d seen in weeks.

  “We need to get closer,” said Nick as he turned back down the ridge to the road.

  Carter followed him until they reached the road that ran up to the barricades on the ridge. He walked alongside Nick.

  “You thinking of getting the quad out?” he asked.

  “I don’t like using it, fuel is nearly gone as it is, but we need to know what’s going on,” he said as he approached the guards.


  The doorway slid open to reveal a mass of crates and tools that had been salvaged and stored on the bridge. One of the guards dropped down, he was called Tony and was one of the group they’d picked up in the shopping centre. He was opinionated and had been a real irritant but over the years had mellowed.

  “Found something?” he asked suspiciously.

  “Maybe, I need the quad,” said Nick.

  “Must be serious, you want it now?” he asked.

  Nick nodded whilst turning to Carter.

  “If they’re survivors we’ll need an extraction unit to help us get them in,” he said.

  Carter moved inside and picked up the wired intercom. Before he spoke though he turned back looking a little confused.

  “What if they aren’t?”

  “Simple, we put them down, all of them,” said Nick with a grin.

  Tony reappeared, pushing a large quad from out of an awning where two more appeared in various states of repair. The quad was one of the larger all terrain vehicles and it had been slightly modified with racks for equipment and an enlarged rear seat so two could travel with equipment more comfortably.

  “How much fuel do you need?” asked Tony.

  “Enough for an hour, no more,” he replied.

  Tony returned to the other two vehicles and unlocked a large metal storage bin. He returned with a green plastic container containing several litres of the precious fuel. He unscrewed the cap and proceeded to fill the tank.

  Nick walked over to the shelter on the bridge where several storage lockers were placed. He opened the first to reveal a selection of weapons. The weapons were positioned at this end of the bridge for two reasons, the first being a handy location to rearm in case of attack on the bridge, the second was to rearm scouting units when the occasion demanded it. Due to the lack of supplies, and the ability to remake ammunition, it had become harder to make use of firearms so those that remained were kept in the best possible condition and close by.

  Of the six guns in the locker, four were shotguns taken from local farms. There was also a small calibre target or hunting rifle that was useful for a variety of jobs. The weapon that Nick took though was one of the bolt-action rifles taken from the shooting range. It was an Enfield rifle, originally a No 4 weapon, that had probably seen action in World War II. In later years it had been stripped down and re-chambered for the standard NATO 7.62mm bullet and outfitted with a telescopic sight. It made for a powerful and accurate rifle, perfect for the zombie apocalypse. The only real problem was the shortage of bullets, though their raids a year ago into the other towns in Wales had produced small quantities of ammunition from the police stations and army barracks.

  “There, you’re ready,” said Tony as he hit the start button on the quad.

  With just a couple of squeaks the engine kicked and then started.

  “Great work, Tony. You’re keeping them running well,” he said.

  Tony nodded in acknowledgement before turning back inside the barricade. Carter came out and jogged over, jumping onto the back of the quad. In his hand he carried a flare gun from the stores.

  “Okay, I’ve let them know what we’re doing. If we need help with survivors we do the usual flare in the air. If we hit trouble...” he said before being interrupted by Nick.

  “If we hit trouble they’ll know from the gunfire,” said Nick dispassionately.

  Nick revved the engine, double checking it was all running as it should.

  “Good luck!” shouted Tony from the barricade.

  Nick lifted his arm up, waving as he powered the quad and drove off along the road. With the road being of no importance anymore it had been reclaimed by weeds and rubbish over the years so that it was impassable to a normal car, not that any of those were still running. The quad bumped over the rougher ground until they reached the crest in the road that looked down into the suburbs. Due to the sunken nature of the road it was impossible to see out to the abandoned trucks. Nick kept moving at a steady pace whilst Carter hung over to his side, keeping a constant vigil. Their training, equipment and experience had kept them alive so far and they weren’t about to wander into trouble without knowing exactly what was happening.

  They were now past the first burnt houses and picking their way through shopping trolleys, ransacked cases and the occasional wrecked car. This was the dangerous bit, as anybody could be lurking behind debris of that size. Almost holding their breath in anticipation, they moved past the houses and out into the main street. Nick knew the route well and worked out in his head how far they needed to travel to get a view of the trucks.

  “Once we get past the building over there we should be able to see the trucks,” he said to Carter.

  They continued through the street, avoiding the largest debris and over the rest where it was unavoidable. As they rounded the corner, they reached the building Nick had pointed out. It was an old local supermarket, though it was now a ruinous mess. There was a small car parking area that was empty next to it and Nick moved there and stopped. He jumped off the quad and Carter followed, moving to the front, he was about to cut the engine when Nick lifted his hand.

  “No, don’t cut the engine. We don’t want to be messing with that if we hit trouble,” he said.

  “Yeah, of course,” he replied, feeling stupid for even thinking about it.

  The two men moved a short distance away from the quad so they could get a clear look out into the distance and towards the trucks. The view was partially obstructed by trees and a wrecked house, but they could just about make out two of the trucks and the people were much more visible.

  “There, I can see them,” said Nick as he pulled out his binoculars.

  Looking carefully he had a good view of the first truck. It was a delivery lorry for one of the supermarkets. One of the wheels was missing and the back section was black and burnt. As he moved to the right a dark shape appeared, he refocused before realising it was one of the people. Lifting upwards he spotted another one moving near the door of the truck as they tried to open it. He looked carefully. Their clothes were ripped and damaged but looked recent. All the zombies they’d seen in the last year were either naked or in the bare remnants of rags. The closest person turned and finally gave him the view he really didn’t want to see.

  “Fuck!” swore Nick as he lowered his binoculars.

  “Zombies?” asked Carter, though not really appearing surprised.

  Nick looked back into the binoculars, studying them more carefully.

  “Yeah, they look recent, as in really recent. They must have been trying to get here when they were caught...Wait, holy shit!” he cried.

  “What is it?”

  Nick handed the binoculars over to him whilst he stood there silent. Carter lifted them and examined the scene in detail. He had to force himself not to take a step back when he spotted the people in view. One of them was holding onto the truck whilst swinging a weapon of some kind, it looked like a baseball bat. Next to this person were two more, both in tattered clothing stumbling away, presumably having been hit by the weapon.

  “Is that a survivor?” asked Carter. There was no reply, he turned to find Nick already sitting on the quad.

  “Get on, we need to get over there!” he shouted.

  With just a few steps Carter was on the back and the quad raced past the building and out onto the road towards the trucks. As they bounced over the debris Carter pulled one of the shotguns from the mount on the side of the quad. It was a standard double barrelled weapon, but its barrels had been cut down to make it easier to use from the quad. He pulled the lever and snapped the barrels down to reveal the empty chambers. From his pocket he pulled out two of the custom shells and slid them in. He snapped the barrels shut and the weapon was ready to go.

  They rounded another corner to reveal the trucks about two hundred yards ahead. From their position they could see a dozen people, of which two or three looked alive and were busy fighting the undead. Nick gunned the engine and they raced in as fa
st as possible. As they approached two of the zombies knocked one of the people to the ground and they both went down to try and bite their victim. Nick ploughed the quad directly into the two zombies. The first was knocked aside and the second was thrown in front of the vehicle. Without hesitating, Nick leapt off the quad and pulled out his bible basher. With a mighty slash he brought it down hard onto the pinned zombie’s head, easily splitting it open. A wail from behind indicated the second one was trying to lift itself up. He ran over to the creature and delivered a horizontal cut that connected with the neck and removed the head cleanly. In just two cuts he had destroyed the first two monsters.

  Carter jumped off the back of the quad and advanced to the second truck where two more people were fighting with improvised weapons. To his left a woman swung a machete whilst next to her a man swung an axe, narrowly missing a zombie and ending up embedding it in the door of the truck. Carter moved to the side and put two shots into the attackers. The power of the blast was substantial and the modified shot blasted the two creatures apart. He turned to the two to see their surprised and horrified expressions.

  “Carter, I’m Carter,” he said, as he moved forward to check for more survivors.

  The three survivors simply stood, obviously exhausted and unable to speak. Nick moved over, looking at the bodies and the three people.

  “Is anybody hurt?” he asked, “Anybody bitten?”

  They shook their heads though Nick wasn’t convinced, that’s what they always said. The woman tried to speak but her muttering was unintelligible.

  “What?” asked Nick, straining to hear her.

  A wail announced the arrival of another four zombies as they climbed over the burnt out trucks. Nick jumped in front swinging his blade whilst Carter quickly reloaded his shotgun. Before he could shoot Nick had already taken the arm off the first and embedded the spiked back edge into the second.