900 Miles: A Zombie Novel

by S. Johnathan Davis

  Michael padded his left hand on his metal case as he said this, giving us some clue as to what he carried in the confines of his guarded treasure.

  He continued, “Listen, I get it, I know. You each have your places to get to. I respect that, and I want to see you get there. I’m asking you, help me get to Avalon. In turn, I’ll help you get to where you need to go. We’ve been through some radical stuff together. You’ve saved my life countless times. You have my word.”

  It was quiet for a brief time. Kyle and I didn’t discuss it, but I could tell that he was pondering it just as much as I was.

  “So how do we get there now?” Kyle broke the silence as I kept the Hummer creeping along.

  Michael pulled up the metal briefcase from the floorboard with a grunt, and set it on his lap. Making sure that neither of us could see inside, he flipped the numeric combination locks in place. He opened it just enough so that he could fit his hand inside. He pulled a small piece of paper out and looked down at it.

  Looking up, he said, “We need to get our hands on a GPS device that still has charge. I was passed this set of coordinates when I closed on the deal.”

  The paper had these coordinates typed on it:

  37°47′38″N 80°18′13″W

  “No problem.” Kyle shrugged, as he pointed at the NAV unit built into the Hummer. The in-dash system had a coordinate input, and was much more accurate than some piece of hand held crap that we might find while scavenging.

  He reached out, and with some reluctance, Michael handed him the paper. Turning back around, Kyle looked down at the NAV, inputting the coordinates. I glanced at it as a small circle spun in the middle of the screen, while the directions were calculated.

  I could hear Michael closing the metal case shut, and rearranging the number dials to lock it up tight. “Route: 87 miles” popped up on the screen, along with a digital arrow pointing us forward on the road we were traveling on.

  “Eighty seven miles,” Kyle said. “We’ll know soon enough if this place is real or not.”

  “It’s real. We just need to get there,” Michael replied sternly.

  Chapter 17

  That man is dead to me…

  The further in to Virginia we went, the more we saw abandoned military vehicles. Some had crashed and others were merely left in the middle of the road, not unlike the many civilian vehicles we had come across.

  All simple reminders that we had lost this war against the undead before it even started. Mankind had no chance. Whoever or whatever cooked up this thing, was either an evil genius or a fucking moron. Either way, it was looking as if it was going to be the end of us.

  Just as we passed a large, green army supply truck, Kyle asked me to stop. He told me that he had an idea. Making sure that there were not any zombies too close by, I hit the brakes. He had the door open, and was climbing out before we came to a complete stop.

  Michael and I watched as he darted to the truck, flipped open a green tarp door at the rear of the vehicle and jumped in. We lost our visual on him for a moment, but the shocks of the truck rocked back and forth, as he moved around.

  A minute later, he hopped out with a belt around his shoulder and two large boxes under his arms. He returned to the Hummer with his loot, and climbed back in, the belt still over his shoulder.

  He looked at me with a big smile.

  “Ammo,” he exclaimed, as he held up the belt. It contained multiple red shotgun shells. He had grabbed bullets for the two handguns as well. We now had more than we knew what to do with.

  As we made our way further down the road, we noticed that more and more of the zombies were wearing various kinds of military camouflage. It became clear that there was a battle somewhere nearby that we probably didn’t win.

  One of the military Zs was stumbling alongside the road as we drove by. We watched as he walked up to an American flag, which was plastered on some redneck’s pickup truck, raised his half gnawed off hand up to his forehead and gave it a formal salute.

  A somber feeling entered the back of my mind. The salute was a simple reminder that these things were human once. I glanced over at Kyle expecting him to show some sort of emotion by the gesture. I was surprised to see him role his eyes, shifting his gaze out to the other window. In the end, I guess as far as he was concerned, they were the enemy. No more, no less.

  Hell, how could we go on unless we believed that? Far be it from us even to consider the possibility that there was some sort of cure. That there was some sort of way that they could come back. We had to push that thought out of our heads. I don’t think we would have made it this far if we let that sneak into out subconscious. We needed to believe that they were no longer human. No longer one of us.

  From time to time, one of the Zs would be fast enough to run up to the Hummer, but luckily; we were too high for them to do any damage. Most of the time, we just felt a thump thump as we ran over it with one of the oversized tires. It was a time like this that reassured us that we’d made the right choice in keeping the Hummer, despite its lack of camouflage.

  As long as we kept moving, we seemed to be okay.

  There were sandbags laid out, and the road was black with various bloody and rotting body parts. Arms, legs, torsos… none of it reanimated because the pieces were not attached to a head. Even through the rancid smell of decaying flesh, there was a hint of the metallic weaponry and acrid remnants of gunpowder left lingering in the air.

  The insects had found the body parts, and maggots covered the larger chunks of meat lying lifeless on the ground. I glanced up to the sky, expecting to see buzzards or some other sort of winged predator picking away at the remains, but was surprised to see none. Even the birds seemed smart enough to stay away from this shit.

  The Zs were thicker here, and beginning to convene around the Hummer in greater numbers. If we got stuck on anything, we’d have been in a world of trouble. I glanced at a military grade Hummer off to my right, feeling my stomach churn rather abruptly, my blood went cold. I could see that it had flipped on its side. The glass was torn through, and blood covered the seats on the inside of it.

  That could have been us, I thought. If the zombies could demolish a military grade vehicle, think of what it could do to our civilian grade. My hands began to shake involuntarily, causing me to squeeze the steering wheel with an iron grip. I decided that we needed to get the hell out of there, and accelerated a bit, knocking through the swarm of Zs in our way. It was a bumpy drive, despite good shocks, as the tires moved up and down popping open skulls and squishing through the dead in our path. We finally pushed through the other side of the swarm.

  I had to drive on the side of the road. It looked like the military had dropped everything it had on it. From mortars to missiles, there were holes that would have been deep enough to be a death trap for the Hummer if we accidentally drove into one. It would have ripped apart the undercarriage just as easily as those zombies ripped apart living flesh.

  As we passed a few of them, I shifted my body up, and could see creatures stuck in the holes, unable to crawl out. One of them had clearly scratched away the flesh from his hands from repeatedly trying to pull itself out. Stubbs of bone protruded from what was left of the ragged green shirtsleeves.

  Most of the trees and grass in the area were either burnt to a pile of ash or blackened from fire and smoke. Along with the bombs, the military must have tried flamethrowers on these things as well.

  Everything around us was still hot. There was smoke burning up from the ash, and I wondered if the Hummers tires were capable of passing through the extreme temperatures. I shuddered at the thought of finding out they couldn’t.

  We weren't sure if the military’s efforts worked on killing the undead, but it sure helped to clear the side of the road; making it easier for me to get the Hummer by. Even with super-sized seats and extra cushion, my ass was starting to hurt from all the bouncing up and down. I sighed with relief as we finally made it past the war zone.

  And
just like that, we were once again on the road, surrounded with green trees and grass. I released a deep breath that was caught in my lungs, and felt my hands unclench the steering wheel. I could hear Michael, from behind me, let out a sigh of relief as well.

  The further south we headed, the less densely populated the landscape became. Gone were skyscrapers and large buildings, now replaced by rolling mountains covered with trees, fields, and suburban neighborhoods.

  The real mind-fuck about the “Burbs” was the kids. I didn’t remember seeing any children back in the city or even in Jersey. Now, the Zs seemed to have more teenagers and toddlers joining their ranks.

  To this day, it might be the most horrifying thing of this shit-storm we’re calling a world now. It’s simply awful to see the innocence of a child replaced by the raw violence and primal desire for flesh. I’m happy to say that I’d been able to avoid coming across one face to face; where I’d have to make the decision between myself or them.

  An hour or so later, we were traveling down the state line between Virginia and West Virginia, right through the George Washington State park. It seemed to span the length of the state.

  During the course of the trip, we repeatedly tried tuning on the radio in the Hummer to find any sort of news report. We just needed to get some sense for what was really happening. There were so many unanswered questions about what started this and how it spread so quickly.

  What was once filled with music was now mostly dead air or ringing emergency alerts. However, there were a few public announcements we came across, driving people towards school gyms or other adhoc safety shelters. All of the announcements we heard were on recorded loops, and we ultimately decided that we couldn’t trust them. If the Zs could knock through our military like we saw earlier, there was nothing stopping them from the gourmet, all they could eat buffet, of the wounded and sick being packed into those places.

  Farther down the road, Kyle eventually suggested pulling over to take a piss.

  With no zombies in sight, I seconded that motion and pulled off on the side of the road. There was a field surrounded by barbed wire. The grass and weeds were still low enough that adult zombies wouldn’t be able to hide.

  The three of us did our business, but then Kyle headed to the back of the Hummer. He emerged with a box of ammo, and looked directly at me.

  “I saw how great a shot you were back in the neighborhood with that group of crazies,” he said sarcastically with a grin. “If we’re going to have each other’s backs, you gotta learn how to aim properly.”

  “What about the noise?” Michael asked nervously. “We’ll draw in the creatures.”

  “Look around,” Kyle said, “we’re alone out here.”

  Michael slowly spun around, looked back at Kyle and nodded his head.

  Kyle looked over at me for approval, which I gave. He then ran over to the fence with an armful of empty water bottles that had been piling up in the back seat with Michael. He placed them on the wooden fence posts.

  He asked for the firearm that I had around my hips and then walked me through some basics, including steadying my breathing, where to place my feet, and holding the weapon with both hands.

  Within a short time, I was nailing eight out of ten bottles.

  In the middle of practicing, I lowered the weapon, making sure to keep my finger away from the trigger and looked at Kyle.

  “Why did you leave the military?” I asked curiously. “You seem to be really good at this stuff and you obviously cared about your friends.”

  Kyle took a deep breath, as I passed the weapon to him. He thought for a minute while pulling off another couple of rounds. We had become close over the past few days, and I could tell that he was going to let me in on a story that he probably didn’t spend much time talking about.

  He gazed out over the field, then back at Michael, who was sitting in the shade of the Hummer, to make sure he was out of earshot.

  “My military career was going fine. It didn’t have anything to do with that.” He kicked the toe of his boot against the ground, heaving a sigh.

  I didn’t respond, deciding to keep quiet while he continued.

  “My mom was diagnosed with cancer. Despite the odds, she was a fighter and went through chemo.” He spoke slowly while he stared out into the grass blowing in the field.

  “You wouldn’t know it by my highly refined fucking manners, but my dad had money.” There was a venom in his voice when he mentioned his father.

  “They say that the therapy is worse than the disease. At first, she just had some nausea, but it soon turned into being bed ridden, and she needed full-time care. My Dad was too busy with his work; too busy to take care of his wife. He dropped her into some fucking home where they put people who are terminal. A resting place for the near dead or dying.

  When I found out, I called him from the god-forsaken desert I was stationed in and confronted him about it. He told me that he had her in the best facility money could buy.

  I pleaded with him, that she wasn’t getting better, and what she needed more than anything was him to be there by her side. I told him money wouldn’t fix it this time…” Kyle trailed off, lifting his gun once again, squeezing off another couple of shots at the bottles.

  This was painful for him to talk about. He clearly resented his father, and I could see that this was the root of his anger towards Michael, being a wealthy businessman who was used to buying his way out of trouble.

  “Anyway, the bastard never went to see her again. He threw her in that expensive home, decided that she was already dead and took off to live his life. When I tried to head home, the Army wouldn’t give me enough leave, so I had to apply for a hardship discharge to go take care of her.” He crossed his arms, holding the firearm sideways across his shoulder. I didn’t see a tear in his eye, but his face was full of pain.

  “I was there by her side every minute, but in the end, cancer is a really nasty fucker…and this was the kind people didn’t get better from.”

  I had lost my parents in a car accident when I was a child. I knew the pain he spoke of. There is nothing worse in this world than losing your family.

  “The bastard threw more money at us for the funeral, but then didn’t even show up.” He lifted the empty firearm, let the clip loose, and began re-loading. “I took the cash he sent and forwarded it the American Cancer Society. If the bastard wasn’t going to help my mother, at least the money would go towards helping someone else get better someday.”

  We sat in silence for another moment as Kyle continued to load the gun. Each bullet fell into place with a click.

  “So, have you seen him since? Do you keep in contact?” I finally asked.

  Snapping the clip into the gun, he looked out towards the remaining six water bottles and pulled the trigger six succinct times, not missing one of them. Handing the weapon to me, he simply said, “That man is dead to me…”

  Thinking through his anger, I understood it. What kind of bastard would leave his wife to die? The thought drew my mind to Jenn. Dropping my shoulders, and looking out towards the field, I realized that when I flew to New York for business, I had basically done the same thing.

  Chapter 18

  White Sulfur Springs, Home of The Greenbrier Hotel.

  We spent another thirty minutes or so refining my firearm skills. I’m not going to say that I am a gun slinger now, however, I hit my fair share of bottles that day, and the practice would come in handy sooner than I even expected.

  Despite the terrors of the past week, I woke up the following morning with a strange feeling. I was beginning to realize that I was better at fighting the undead than I ever was at fighting the horrors of corporate America.

  The way I figured, at least I knew what the Zs wanted. They were clear about their intentions. The corporate world that I left behind, along with the rest of civilization, was riddled with bullshit, hidden agendas, and red tape.

  I was losing weight, feeling better than I had in a while
, and most importantly, I was still alive. The feeling was short-lived, however. Jenn and my child popped into my mind. We needed to keep moving. We needed to get to Avalon.

  Even I believed, or at least was really hoping that Avalon was real at this point. I had allowed what started as a reluctant agreement to let Michael come along, to transform into an eager anticipation that we’d be okay at the end. Even then, I realized it was because I didn’t know where else we’d head after I found Jenn. I didn’t have any sort of backup plan, and I didn’t see anything jumping out in front of us, except for bloodthirsty zombies. The only thing I could focus on was getting to Avalon, and I was betting big that if it were in fact real, they would let us in with open arms. It was a hell of a wager.

  We were just twenty miles or so from Michael’s coordinates. According to the map, they were right smack dab in the middle of a small town named, White Sulfur Springs.

  The name sounded familiar to me. I kept feeling like I heard about it on the History or Discovery channel. The thought was eating away at me during the drive. It was something I’d heard of. I simply couldn’t quite place it, and I found myself agitated at my inability to think straight. Lack of sleep and stress was really starting to pay its toll.

  The twenty mile trek was relatively uneventful. We saw some Zs, but they were spread out, and of no real consequence to us. I don’t think it would have mattered any way. The three of us were quiet, caught up in our thoughts about our journey thus far, and what Avalon may have, or would bring us.

  As we pulled into the town, we passed a welcome sign that read, “White Sulfur Springs Founded in 1900,” in green letters. Once again, AVALON was spray painted on the sign in red paint.

  We were there.

  “Looks like something may actually be out here,” Kyle reluctantly said, glancing back toward Michael after seeing the sign. He shifted a little higher in his seat, and was looking around the town trying to catch a glimpse of some other indication that we were in the right place. I could tell that even Kyle was sold on the prospect of finding Avalon.