Zombie Crusade II: David's Journey

by J. W. Vohs

  David’s Journey

  Zombie Crusade II: David’s Journey

  J. W. Vohs

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  David’s Journey

  Copyright © 2012 J.W. Vohs

  All rights reserved.

  ISBN: 1480108286

  ISBN-13: 139781480108288

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  David’s Journey

  DEDICATION

  This book is dedicated to the fans of Zombie Crusade who asked for a sequel to the story of Jack and his fellow resistance fighters. The positive reaction of the readers of Zombie Crusade really knocked me for a loop. I didn’t know what to expect with the release of the book, and the success it has enjoyed has both surprised and delighted me. As long as so many of you want me to continue offering up stories for your consumption, I promise that I will turn them out on a regular basis. I also promise to listen to your suggestions and criticisms, and I hope you will continue to offer inspiration and guidance as these stories evolve.

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  David’s Journey

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  David’s Journey

  ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

  My wife is the editor-with-rewrite-privileges of every book that bears my name. She also keeps me writing, which is no small achievement considering she is married to one of humanity’s great procrastinators. So, Sandra, my beloved, thank you for making this book and all the others possible. I also want to thank the first author I reached out to for advice, Jacqueline Druga, an internet friend whom I’ve never met who takes the time to write lengthy messages of advice and encouragement in spite of her own incredibly busy life. In a world full of so many people who want to know what’s in it for them, Ms. Druga helped me for the sake of being kind. Jackie, thank you very much, and may God bless all your endeavors. Finally, I want to thank all the fans of Zombie Crusade who have supported me by reading my work. Without all of you, this book wouldn’t exist, so I thank you from the bottom of my heart.

  David’s Journey

  CHAPTER 1

  David Smith sat quietly in the upstairs bedroom of his girlfriend’s parents’ house in Westlake, Ohio, alternating his gaze from the sight of Cleveland burning over ten miles away and the phone that now lay still in his right hand. He had just finished a gut-wrenching conversation with his older brother, Jack, who had tried to warn him for over a week that the world was facing the most deadly pandemic in the history of mankind. Jack had been an Army Ranger in Afghanistan while David was still a student and standout high school athlete in Fort Wayne, Indiana. Despite only being seventeen when his brother returned from the war, even David could see that Jack had come home a very different person than the fun-loving teen who had enlisted four years earlier.

  Jack had been obviously restless during the months and years following his deployment to Afghanistan, spending most of his time studying history at Indiana University before earning a Ph.D. at Oxford in England. When not pursuing his academic career, Jack had spent most of his free hours making medieval weapons that he used and sold at Society for Creative Anachronism (SCA) events across North America and Europe. Finally he had taken a real job as a museum curator in Louisville, but David rarely saw his brother by that time as he found himself insanely busy finishing law school, studying for the bar, and eventually working his way up with a firm based in downtown Cleveland.

  Less than a year had passed since Jack had invited David and the rest of the family to visit his newly-built compound in northern Indiana. He’d informed all of the attendees that his “Castle” was open to everyone in case some type of apocalypse befell the country. David had left the place worried that his alarmist brother was losing his mind, and hoped that Jack was only suffering from some sort of PTSD-induced paranoia rather than schizophrenia or some other psychotic condition. David and his longtime girlfriend, Christy, had discussed Jack and his fortress all the way back to Cleveland, finally deciding that his brother needed some sort of help but not exactly sure how to go about informing the former Ranger of their decision. A few days back at the firm where they both worked ninety-hour weeks pushed their concerns for Jack’s idiosyncrasies to the back-burner. They remained there until his brother called to warn him of the impending doom about to destroy life as they knew it.

  The internet had been abuzz with stories about survivors of a Marine platoon in Afghanistan who reported being nearly wiped out by cannibalistic Taliban fighters attacking with only their hands and teeth, while seemingly immune to the small arms fire the troops poured into them. The men who’d lived through the attack had been whisked off to a military hospital in Washington D.C. where they’d been quarantined, but the soldiers who’d rescued them had taken photos and listened to the details of the incomprehensibly brutal assault the Marines had endured. Within hours the survivors’ stories, and pictures of the wounds they’d suffered, had been posted on several social networking sites before Military Intelligence had been able to classify the results of the failed mission and begin containment of the information. The photographs of Marines suffering from human bite-wounds had been unnerving, and the stories they’d shared with the soldiers before being evacuated had seemed to indicate that at least some of the Taliban fighters had displayed zombie-like characteristics during the deadly ambush.

  David had heard the stories and seen the news reports, but nevertheless, his concern for his brother’s mental well-being skyrocketed after Jack called and told him that he had faced these same zombie-like creatures in Afghanistan ten years earlier when some Army medical experiment had gone wrong. Jack warned his little brother to pack up and immediately get to The Castle in Indiana, but David believed his brother was greatly exaggerating the threat posed by what officials were calling a “serious viral outbreak,” and he wasn’t going to leave Christy or the law firm just because his crazy brother now claimed to have fought zombies a decade ago. Jack had explained that he’d hoped the military had effectively contained the infection when they destroyed the village where the outbreak had originally occurred, but he’d never been able to ignore the nagging feeling that someday the virus would get loose in the world. That was the reason he’d built a fortified compound big enough for all of his family and friends.

  David finally had told his brother that he simply would not be leaving Cleveland in response to this situation, and Jack had replied by sending him several large, heavy boxes through FedEx the next day. David stacked the boxes in the spare bedroom that doubled as a home-office in the apartment, and he promised himself that he would make more of an effort to check in with his well-meaning but clearly paranoid older brother. That night David and Christy prepared dinner together and then sat down to watch the national news. The different channels covered nothing but stories about the virus breaking out in Washington D.C. and the frenzied efforts by the government to contain the spreading infection. Enough details emerged from the stories that matched Jack’s warning to pique David’s interest, so he surfed the web for a few hours in search of information the television news crews weren’t reporting.

  Bloggers from the D.C. area were posting stories, pictures, and videos that showed infected people behaving in what could only be called a zombie-like manner—individuals with horrific wounds walking the streets and using their hands and teeth to attack anyone they could catch. The gist of the reports argued that some health care workers in the military hospital where the wounded Marines from the attack in Afghanistan had been taken were now infected and spreading the virus throughout the area.

  At the office the next day everyone was talking about the growing epidemic; even the few clients who actually kept their appointments spent more time talking about the stories out of D.C. than they did reviewing their cases. The secretaries even suggeste
d that the billable hours be amended to reflect the lack of actual legal work that was accomplished during these meetings. The lawyers, paralegals, and everyone else in the huge firm were glued to their phones and computers as the information from the capitol and other eastern cities grew more alarming by the hour. Finally, one of the senior partners told everybody to leave early and plan on working from their homes the next day unless otherwise notified. David and Christy didn’t know it as they drove away, but that was the last time they would ever see the office or their coworkers again.

  That night the couple tried to enjoy a quiet dinner in their downtown apartment before tuning back in to any news of the outside world, but a phone call from Christy’s dad suggesting that they “get the hell out of the city” sent them back to their television for an update on the situation unfolding around them. For the next eight hours they watched the major news networks report on the spread of the virus, with infections now being documented in dozens of cities east of the Mississippi. Though alarmed by what they were hearing and seeing on their television, they agreed that staying informed and not making any rash decisions would be the best course of action. David and Christy finally went to bed at two in the morning, after deciding that they would turn off the alarm clock and sleep in unless a call from the office woke them. They ended up sleeping till ten-thirty, and by the time they made coffee and turned on the TV several outbreaks in the Cleveland area were being broadcast live.

  As with most cities where the virus first appeared and the infection broke containment, the crisis in Cleveland started in several of the hospitals where refugees from D.C. had been quarantined. Most of the stories were similar to what had happened in the capitol: medical personnel, bitten by delusional patients but seemingly not seriously injured, headed for home at the end of their shifts. Police officers were also being wounded in increasing numbers as most of them just couldn’t bring themselves to fire on what they saw as unarmed civilians. By nightfall the Cleveland metropolitan area was descending into chaos, as infected people roamed the city assaulting the crowds of citizens who should have been in their homes but for a thousand different reasons decided to head out into public. The mayor declared a state of emergency at nine in the evening and ordered all non-essential individuals off of the streets, but by then the virus was incubating within the bloodstreams of tens of thousands of unfortunate victims of the day’s attacks. During the next twenty-four hours, the city of Cleveland experienced the worst outbreak outside of D.C., and by nightfall the city belonged to the zombies.

  David and Christy had decided to follow the mayor’s orders and stay home all day, but by late afternoon they were wondering if they should try to escape their upscale downtown apartment and attempt to make it out to Christy’s parents’ house in the suburbs. When her father called at seven-thirty he was ready to try to come into town and rescue the young couple, but David assured him that he would figure something out and call him as soon as they had a plan.

  After he hung up the phone, David just sat and stared at the wall for a few minutes listening to the sounds of panic and pain floating up from the streets below, and, he suspected, from the apartment building itself. Finally, his shock was broken when Christy stumbled into the room carrying one of the boxes Jack had sent a few days earlier, and when she opened the package the first thing she found was a large envelope with their names scrawled across the top that was basically a manual explaining how the zombies functioned, as well as how they could be successfully fought and destroyed. While she read the instructions David brought in the rest of the boxes, then began opening them and carefully removing the contents of each.

  Jack had sent complete outfits of Kevlar-laced motorcycle racing gear, including full-faced helmets and snake-proof hiking boots. David just shook his head in confusion as he finally pulled out spiked, human neck-collars made of leather and iron. Moving on to the next package he discovered two .22 pistols with silencers and five magazines for each gun. Five hundred rounds of sub-sonic, high-grained bullets were the last items in the box. Opening the final container David was amazed to find several of the medieval weapons he had seen in Jack’s basement during their last visit. Wicked looking halberds were ready to be assembled by screwing pieces of the shafts into place. Two diamond-headed maces were also in the box, and finally, two razor-sharp short swords were lying in their scabbards attached to thick leather belts.

  David pulled all of the weapons and gear out of their containers and began carefully laying them side-by-side on the dining room table, still wearing an expression of confusion as Christy walked up and placed the manual in his hands.

  “Take a few minutes to sit down and read this,” she quietly instructed before moving toward the items David had displayed across the table. “I think Jack just saved our lives, or at least he gave us a fighting chance to make it out of here.”

  David spent the next ten minutes reading what he fervently wished he would have believed a week earlier. Everything Jack had predicted concerning the spread of the virus and behavior of infected people had come to pass. But David was as pragmatic as he was stubborn, and now he completely accepted the new reality of the world around him and quickly committed to memory everything his brother had written about how to survive in an environment overrun by zombies. The bottom line was that he and Christy would have to avoid being bitten by the creatures, and that was why the protective gear had been sent. They would also probably have to fight the flesh-eaters at some point, and that was why Jack had included the weapons. Finally, they had to remain as quiet as possible while doing these things, hence the medieval weapons and suppressed pistols.

  Jack had also written about the pressing need to escape the city; he was certain that fire or a lack of food and water would lead them to attempt an escape from Cleveland sooner or later, and he definitely believed that sooner was the better option. David finally set down the manual and thought for a few moments about what he and Christy needed to do if they were to survive a trip out of the city. Two minutes later he released a pent-up breath, slapped his thighs, and rose to his feet with a newfound sense of purpose that told Christy he’d decided on a plan of action. He joined her at the table covered with equipment, put his arm around her shoulders and explained, “We have to put on this protective gear and get to your vehicle. Every minute we wait is only going to make it more difficult to get out to your parents’ house.”

  She slowly exhaled and nodded as she asked, “Do we have time to pack our clothes and pictures and things?”

  “Fifteen minutes, hon. Be practical and put it all in one bag.”

  “What about your stuff?”

  David shook his head and declared, “I don’t believe we’ll make it to the parking garage without running into some of those creatures we’ve seen on the news. We’re probably going to have to fight our way to the vehicle. I’ll toss a few sets of clothes in a backpack and see if it fits without slowing me down too much.”

  “I’ll do the same thing. And I need you to take a few minutes and show me how to use that pistol; I’ve shot a lot of guns with Dad but never a .22 auto.”

  David picked up one of the guns, slipped in a loaded magazine, switched the safety off and fired a round into the sofa. Christy jumped slightly when the bullet hit the fabric and took a deep breath so she could yell at her irresponsible boyfriend. But he beat her to the punch by asking, “Who needs a couch in the middle of an apocalypse?”

  She smiled for a moment and then started to chuckle. David joined her and soon was laughing out loud as Christy pulled him close. She stood on her tip-toes so she could easily rest her chin on his shoulder as they tenderly embraced. When she sighed her warm breath tickled his ear. She whispered, “Meet me at the door in fifteen minutes,” before releasing him from her arms and quickly disappearing down the hall.

  Sure enough, a quarter of an hour later Christy had called her folks to let them know they were on their way, and she and David were helping one another put the finishing touches on
their new protective gear. Straps were pulled tight, pant legs and sleeves tucked in, and weapons belts cinched tightly about their waists. Christy’s long brown hair was safely tucked into her jacket and held in place with a studded neck collar. David didn’t know how Jack had managed to get their sizes right but the gear fit them perfectly. Christy was just over five-nine and a lean one hundred and forty pounds sculpted by the Pilates classes she regularly attended at the local fitness center. David’s six-two height carried two hundred pounds of gym-honed muscle. When they’d pulled on their Kevlar-laced, leather racing gear they’d wondered if Jack had measured them while they slept the last time they visited his place in Indiana; even the snake-proof boots were the right size.

  Once satisfied that they had everything in place, David pulled on his backpack and swung his arms about to make sure his movement was unencumbered by the bag. He quickly determined that he could function just fine with the extra weight and helped Christy pull her pack on. Finally, they stood before the door and pulled their pistols free. The halberds were still in pieces, but along with the maces and short swords, were dutifully strapped to their belts. Both of them had agreed that until they had a chance to practice with the unfamiliar weapons they would stick to the firearms for self-defense. The blades were positioned on their right sides where they would be readily available as back-ups, but David prayed that they wouldn’t need the short swords during their escape. From behind his visor David asked, “I know this is a stupid question, but do you have your keys somewhere you’ll be able to quickly reach?”

  Christy replied in a muffled voice, “You’ve asked a lot of dumb questions since I’ve known you but that isn’t one of them.” She pointed to the side of her helmet where the key was duct taped with the unlock button facing out. “Once we’re in the vehicle remember to lock the doors. You’re driving and I’ll navigate. Do you have the spare keys?”