Zombie Dawn Apocalypse

by Michael G. Thomas

  “Out of the way!” shouted Carter.

  Nick rolled to the side as he blasted the remaining two zombies with both barrels. The surviving one-armed zombie staggered forward, only to be met by the raged woman who slashed it from neck to shoulder with her machete. The bloody body collapsed into a mushy mound on the ground.

  The woman cleared her throat, coughing and tried speaking again.

  “They’re coming!” she said, pointing out to the east, “Lots of them!”

  Nick moved around the crashed trucks to look out into the distance. At first he could see nothing, just the road, horizon and the sky, then he realised the haze on the horizon wasn’t a haze, it was the horde and their numbers looked limitless. Carter joined him and examined them in the binoculars.

  “Holy mother of God, there must be hundreds, no, thousands of them!”

  Nick turned to the group.

  “Come on, we need to get back to warn the others, they could be at the town in a day, maybe less!”

  CHAPTER 2

  Lundy Island, England

  The cool wind blew across Dave’s face as he walked along the hilltops beside the island’s harbour, taking in the fresh air. He walked past the graveyard where much of the island’s population had been buried years before, the wooden crosses over the graves now weathered and pale. Of the thirty people who were on Lundy Island when the outbreak began, only eight managed to survive the first year. Many people in a panic piled aboard the tourist ferry from Ilfracombe, some already infected. Within a week the island was once again free of the infection, but with only six of its inhabitants alive and two tourists.

  Dave had been on this island for seven years now. Roger and his fellow survivors had attempted to set up another community, but with even fewer survivors and resources, it had been a disaster just as the first. Soon after they had hit the road and never stopped, until they were finally sick of the nomadic lifestyle, and forever running low on fuel. Roger led the group to the Island of Lundy, taking just a small sail boat and what supplies they had left. Roger’s group consisted of Dave, Tommy, Sandra and Graham, as well as Kelly and Travis who they had picked up the year before. Graham had since died of a heart attack.

  Tommy and Sandra had a son not long after arriving on the island, and another two of the people now on the island had a son born just a few months before. The total population stood as a miserly sixteen people, a tiny community hanging onto its existence. The island was three miles long by less than a mile wide, but it provided shelter and food for those who inhabited it. The community spent most of their time farming the small amount of land they needed to, and fishing for food on the coastline. It was a peaceful life and free of the stress and threats they had previously known.

  “Dave!” shouted Tommy.

  He looked around to see Tommy and his son Ryan walking up the path towards him. Seeing people walk casually in the countryside, without weapons and armour, was a sight he still found odd and yet extremely satisfying after the years they had spent in the confines of their bases and protective equipment.

  “Hey, Tommy, Ryan. What’s up?”

  “It’s a nice day, Ryan fancies a swim, feel like joining us?” asked Tommy.

  They carried on down to the beach, and within ten minutes were in the sea. The water was cold, but none of them cared, the freedom that their island afforded them made so many other worries seem insignificant. Dave turned to look out to sea and could see the glimmer of a boat a few miles out.

  “Hey, check it out!” shouted Dave.

  “Looks like a fair size boat, Dave,” Tommy said.

  “Let’s get back and see if we can get them on the radio!”

  They rushed back to the house, it was pretty rare these days that they saw anything at sea. Every year or two a vessel had come across them and managed to do trade, and it was always nice to see new faces.

  “Hey, Roger, there’s a boat a few miles out,” said Dave.

  “Alright, let’s see if we can reach them.”

  Their leader sat down at the console table where the radio was set up.

  “This is the Island of Lundy, you are a few miles from our coast, please acknowledge,” said Roger.

  There was no response for a minute.

  “Maybe it’s a ghost ship,” said Tommy.

  “I repeat, this is Lundy Island, please respond,” said Roger.

  “This is the vessel Morning Star, over,” said the operator.

  “What’s your name, son?” asked Roger.

  “Malcolm, over,” said the operator.

  “Hi, Malcolm. We’re a zombie free island with produce to trade and company to share, you’re most welcome to bring your boat in.”

  “Thank you, we’ll see you shortly, over,” said Malcolm.

  Roger put the radio down. He turned to his friends.

  “Right, now remember, these are not guaranteed friendlies just because they are the living, they could well be opportunists or mad men.”

  “But they’re just survivors like us!” said Tommy.

  “Think back to before the outbreak, were people always friendly to you all the time? Did crime not exist? Was life always fair? No, what we have on this island is priceless, and I am sure there are still people in this world that would kill to get it. Now I hope that they will be civil and trade some useful supplies, but let’s be prepared for any eventuality,” said Roger.

  “He’s right Tommy, we can’t assume anything, there’s too much at stake,” said Dave.

  “Alright, they have no idea how many of us there are, I want you two, Travis and Jones to arm yourselves and hold up here. Steve and Giles will meet the boat with me at the jetty, everyone else is to grab what weapons they have and stay safely inside the tavern, ok?” asked Roger.

  “Sure, I’ll get the word around,” said Tommy.

  “Do it quickly, I’ll get some weapons ready,” said Dave.

  “Good, I’m sure this will be a pleasant encounter, but let’s keep our heads and be smart,” Roger added.

  A couple of hours later the boat was pulling into the jetty, a fifty-metre luxury sail yacht. There were five men on deck, all with weapons slung on them, a few handguns and machetes. Roger did not like the sight of well-armed strangers, but he could hardly blame them, the world outside their isolated island was a bleak and dangerous one. Roger carried his sabre on a belt, with Chris and Giles having tool belts with hammers slung on them, this kept them armed without looking too threatening.

  Lines were thrown over from the boat and Giles and Steve lashed them down. A man stepped off onto the jetty with a grin on his face, approaching Roger.

  “Malcolm?” asked Roger.

  “Yep, you in charge of this place?” asked Malcolm.

  “I am indeed, and you are most welcome.”

  The man continued onwards towards Roger and offered his hand out in a gesture of good will. Roger took the man’s hand, but Malcolm twisted his arm round his back and kicked the back of his knees out sending him down. Before Steve and Giles could react there has a handgun touching Roger’s head.

  “Don’t even think about it,” said Malcolm.

  “What the fuck are you doing?” asked Giles.

  Malcolm turned and trained his pistol on Giles, quickly pulling the trigger. The bullet penetrated the man’s heart and he collapsed onto the ground, dying almost instantly.

  “No! We’ll give you what you want!” shouted Roger.

  “I know you will,” said Malcolm.

  “Ok, just take it easy, no one else has to get hurt here,” said Roger.

  “It’s fucking amazing that you bunch of idiots have survived this long,” said Malcolm.

  “Why? Because we are decent folk?” asked Steve.

  “No, because you’re all so stupid. Who the hell greets strangers with open arms in these times? This is about survival of the fittest!” shouted Malcolm.

  “How can you treat human life with such little regard?” asked Steve.

  “I tak
e care of me and my own, otherwise we just end up victims like you.”

  “Only if scum like you exist to take advantage,” said Steve.

  “Welcome to the real world, now shut the fuck up!” shouted Malcolm.

  “Leave it, Steve,” said Roger.

  “That’s right, listen to the boss.”

  “What do you want?” asked Roger.

  “Firstly, take that sword off, carefully, and that hammer on your friend,” said Malcolm.

  The two men removed their weapons and laid them down on the deck.

  “Right, now what have you got in this place? Clearly no decent weapons. Food, water, alcohol?” asked Malcolm.

  “Yes, yes, all of that and plenty of it,” said Roger.

  “Now we’re talking. Where?”

  “A large amount of it is in my house, it’s ten minutes walk from here,” said Roger.

  “Alright, lads, you three with me, grab some bags, tell the others to stay here and keep an eye on things!” shouted Malcolm.

  Two minutes later they were already making their way up the hill towards Millcombe House.

  “How many of you are there on this island?” asked Malcolm.

  “Six, the other three are fishing on the west side of the island,” said Roger.

  “Good, good, then we’ll be left in peace.”

  “Yes, we aren’t fighters, just survivors, we just want to live.”

  “And you will, once you have given us what you have to give.”

  “And what will we eat when you have taken our food?” asked Roger.

  “I’m sure you can grow more or go find some on the mainland. Right now your only concern is making it through the day,” said Malcolm.

  The group of six reached the house, Malcolm’s men with their weapons in hand and leading the two islanders.

  “Posh place, you’ve got style I’ll give you that,” said Malcolm.

  They reached the front door and Roger led them inside with a gun to his back. They reached the kitchen and Malcolm looked around at the supplies already visible.

  “Right, I’ll watch these two. Lads, load up!”

  The three scum bags roared with excitement at the booty they were able to take without a fight, they began stuffing their large packs with everything edible in sight.

  “You got any other grub in this place?”

  “We keep a store, it’s down that corridor, last door on the right,” said Roger.

  “Leon, get on it!” shouted Malcolm.

  Malcolm’s henchman ran enthusiastically out of the room towards the stores, he opened the door and stepped through, his eyes glistening as he looked at the canned food piled high.

  “Holy shit, boss, it’s a goldmine!” shouted Leon.

  He stepped into the room, a flicker of movement caught his attention as he turned to the side, but it was too late, a club hammer crashed down on his head, sending him lifelessly crumpling to the floor. Malcolm appeared in the doorway and immediately noticed the body of his comrade, he looked back up, peering down the body of a crossbow. The string released and the bolt soared through his clothing and into his lung.

  He stumbled back out of the room with his back against the far wall. He tried to lift his pistol, but Dave leapt out of the room and took hold of his arm as the handgun let off a round. The club hammer once again descended onto a skull, Malcolm collapsed to the ground. The two other henchmen had already begun to head towards the sound of the gunshot and were running down the corridor.

  The arrow of a bow pierced the back of the man at the back, he turned to respond, but Steve slung another arrow and released it, hitting his chest squarely and the man collapsed. Dave picked up Malcolm’s handgun, a Browning Hi Power, and immediately brought it to bear against the last assailant, firing three shots before his could lift his gun. Roger arrived in front of the bodies, looking at Dave with both shock and relief.

  “Right, good job, now, we have no idea how many more of them are down on that boat. It’s entirely possible they will have heard those shots and come running, so let’s assume we have just five minutes to get fully prepared,” said Roger.

  “What do you want us to do?” asked Tommy as he rushed in.

  “They will be expecting a fight, so let’s make use of our defensive position, the walls are nice and thick here, and it will be their first port of call coming up the hill. Steve, Jones, Travis, you’re with me, we’ll defend from the windows of the house. Dave, Tommy, I want you hidden outside behind the sidewall, stay out of sight until the first shot is fired, and then get a crossfire going,” said Roger.

  “Are we really going to kill them all? These are people, not zombies,” said Jones.

  “We have no choice, they killed Giles without a second thought, and we will follow him if we don’t fight back, it’s them or us. Now, grab plenty of weapons and ammunition, and get ready.”

  Five minutes later Dave and Tommy leapt over the wall beside the large old house. They had two rifle crossbows each and a shotgun, all were loaded and propped up ready against the wall. Dave peered out carefully over the wall down the long road that led to the beach, he could already just see the movement of people heading towards them, they had got in position just in time.

  “Right, Tommy. We stay silent, no firing until we hear the first shot from the house. Use the crossbows first, they don’t give our position away, but keep them in hand whilst those bastards walk past, just in case they try and jump us.”

  “Alright, you think the others can handle this?” asked Tommy.

  “They have handled ten years of survival in a world that few others have, I would say they are as ready as anyone can be, now get your head down.”

  It was a tense few minutes as the two men listened to the footsteps of their enemies getting closer and closer, they could only hope they went straight for the house. The sounds of the men soon passed as they went beyond Dave’s position and into the small rectangular walled garden in front of the house.

  “Hey, boss! You in there?” shouted one of the thugs.

  Dave peered over the wall, there were six men thirty feet in front of them. The door was shut but the windows were all open, he slowly placed the shotgun back against the wall and picked up the first crossbow. As Dave slipped the stock into his shoulder, a blast rang out from one of the lower windows, a burst of flame and smoke hit the lead thug in the chest, knocking him to the ground. The five others lifted their weapons to fire, one shotgun round had already blasted through an open window when Dave got his crossbow on target.

  Dave squeezed the trigger of the crossbow and the bolt released, piercing his target’s body at the side, and driving into the chest. Tommy’s first bolt struck the next thug in his right arm, he screamed in agony as the handgun in his hand dropped to the ground. The injured man turned to see Dave and Tommy’s position, and stumbled to pick the revolver up with his left hand. As he got upright, Tommy’s second bolt pierced his chest.

  Gunshots rang out from inside the house from the defenders as the thugs fired back in a fight more reminiscent of a wild west shootout. Dave picked up his shotgun and leapt over the wall, immediately locking the stock into his shoulder, Tommy close behind Three of the men were still standing, but a bloody and dirty mess. Dave fired the first shotgun shell, and then the second before the smoke had even cleared, Tommy following suit, and then all was silent.

  The sour smell of sulphur wafted across the garden in a sea of gunpowder smoke. Dave kept walking, throwing the shotgun to the floor and picking up the revolver from Tommy’s victim. He walked past the first body, blood was already seeping out across the previously perfectly green grass. The heavy bolt of Millcombe House slid across and the door was pulled open. Dave could already hear the screams of pain from a man inside.

  Roger stepped out from the building and towards the bodies. Five of the thugs were already dead from multiple wounds, the last was reeling in agony. Roger picked up a .357 snub nosed Smith and Wesson from the ground and stepped over the body o
f the wounded man. He raised the gun to the man’s head and fired immediately, the round piercing the near silence of the garden.

  “Anyone hit?” asked Dave.

  “Travis took some birdshot in the arm, he needs some help, but he’ll live,” said Roger.

  “What a waste of life.”

  “Yes, but at least not our lives,” said Roger.

  “This is a bittersweet victory, this morning we had a population of sixteen, now just fifteen, and the knowledge that we have killed a sizeable amount of the living population in the world,” said Dave.

  “Yes, it saddens me too, but we did the best we could in a difficult situation. Now, we still don’t know if there are anymore on that boat. You, Tommy and Jones head down and check it out, make sure you’re well armed, Steve and I will get some help for Travis,” said Roger.

  “Jones, get out here!” shouted Dave.

  Moments later the three men were taking the walk downhill that their victims had taken just minutes before. It was a depressing and quiet walk, none of the men wanting to talk about the miserable deeds that they were required to undertake. They reached the jetty and could see no sign of movement on the boat at all, so began to carefully step towards it, weapons at the ready. They could already see the bloody and still body of their friend at the end of the walkway. It hardened their resolve. Dave took the first step onboard, followed by the other two men.

  “Hello? Anyone aboard?”

  Dave peered down the hatch into the cabin and a man leapt out at the far end of the room, immediately firing a handgun, two shots landed either side of Dave in the cabin interior, the man being careless of his aim and recoil. Dave lifted his shotgun quickly and fired, hitting the man dead centre in the chest. Tommy and Jones quickly ran into the cabin and past the man’s body, searching out the rest of the vessel.

  “That’s it, nobody left,” said Tommy.

  “Find a sheet for Giles’ body and cover him up, then we’ll head up to the church before clearing this shit up,” said Dave.

  The three men arrived at the church to find Sandra pulling the pellets out of Travis’ arm, a painful experience, but one he would recover from quite quickly. Roger organised the clean up later that day, burying their fallen comrade and enemies. It was a solemn day, but one they were all keen to move on from.