Surviving The Zombie Apocalypse (Book 1): Sanctuary

by Scott, Joshua Jared

  “How you get that scar?” I asked, pulling off my shoes and socks.

  “Between my shoulder blades? That was a fall from my bicycle when I was little. I hit a shrub while learning to ride. The chain broke and one end flipped up and gashed me.”

  My shirt and jeans joined the shoes on the floor.

  “Sounds painful.”

  She shivered slightly. “I screamed and screamed and ended up getting about two dozen stitches. I had nightmares about it for years. I was never that scared before, or since.” Briana paused. “Not even with my mom and brother. I should have been, but...” She trailed off.

  I grabbed the hand lotion on the nightstand and let some drip onto her back before I started the massage. She was tense.

  “I could be arrested for this,” I pointed out.

  There was no seriousness to my comment. Such a thing was never going to happen, not now.

  “Mmm, that feels good. And don’t you dare ask when I’m going to turn eighteen.”

  I paused. “When do you turn eighteen? I mean, when’s your birthday.”

  I was ashamed to admit that I had no idea.

  “God, Jacob. I just said don’t ask. You should never question a woman about such things. Didn’t your mother teach you that?”

  I began to press on her lower back, my eyes glued to the almost, but accursedly not, transparent panties.

  “Mostly she said to always remember to get them a nice present.”

  “In that case, it’s December 17. I will expect something very expensive, wrapped in bright paper.”

  “I’ll keep an eye out for something appropriately gaudy and tasteless.”

  She smiled, then sighed as I continued on in silence. Finishing her back, I moved to her legs and finally the soles of her feet. Briana really seemed to enjoy that.

  “No stopping.”

  “Sweetie, I’ve been at this for a long time.” I glanced at my watch. “Forty minutes.” My fingers were starting to cramp. “Your turn.”

  “Fine. Blow out the candles, and we’ll switch.”

  “If I blow the candles out, it’ll be dark in the room.”

  “Well, duh Jacob. I’m mostly naked here.”

  I gave her a slight tickle along the ribs, eliciting a soft squeal.

  “I’m not seeing this as a problem Briana.”

  “Are you saying you want to see me naked?” Her voice dropped.

  “Do you really have to ask that?” I paused. Actually, barring the past hour, we had not previously been romantic. Teasing, yes. Flirting, more and more as time went on. Nothing physical though, not even a kiss. “Roll over.”

  She did so, and I kept my gaze politely brief before I leaned down to touch my lips to hers.

  “Still want your massage?” she asked, after we broke apart.

  “Yes. No. Wait.”

  She began to laugh. I deserved it, and partly to hide my red face I went ahead and blew out the candles.

  Briana wrapped her arms about me. “I don’t mean to be cruel or anything, but will you just hold me tonight? I promise something more later. I might even give you that back rub one day.”

  “Of course.”

  How disappointing.

  “If you like,” she continued, “we could bounce up and down on the bed some so the others wouldn’t know that I’m not quite as ready as I thought.”

  “No need for that. They’ll assume anyway.”

  “Not Mary. That one’s bright. She’s the only one who’s figured us out, I think.”

  “I haven’t figured us out yet.”

  She gave me another kiss. “Me either.”

  The silence lasted only a minute.

  “Jacob?”

  I shifted position, trying to get more comfortable. “Yes Briana?”

  “The age of consent in Nebraska, Texas too, is seventeen, not eighteen. Learned that in government class.”

  Assuming Briana was telling the truth, and I had no reason to doubt her, my previous comments were more than a little foolish. Talk about embarrassment.

  “Why didn’t you say so earlier?”

  She shrugged. “I thought it was kind of funny, you thinking I was jail bait.” Briana let out a massive yawn. “But I’m not.”

  My mind was whirling. I had honestly believed any sort of physical relationship with Briana would be illegal. This wasn’t going to stop me, not now that the first steps had been taken, and that insight doesn’t say anything good about my character, but... I needed to think about this some more.

  Interlude – Susan & Timothy’s Story

  After we’d eaten dinner, and before the bedroom incident, Susan and Timothy told us their story and that of the others beside the lake. This was their second year attending the Living Bible Church of Christ’s annual camping trip. The previous one was held in Indiana, and while it had been pleasant, the majority wanted to select a spot further from home, so Nebraska had been chosen as an alternative. Most of their time was spent in prayer and group activities, but they took breaks to visit Mount Rushmore and the Crazy Horse monument, along with Chimney Rock and a few other regional sights. Like most who attended, this also served as their family vacation.

  The first week went well. Susan and Timothy were among friends. There had been no fights or conflicts. One person did get a mild case of food poisoning, but that cleared up quickly. There was plenty of hiking and fishing, and they had been enjoying themselves. Then the change hit.

  The entire church group, and quite a few of the other campers, had been awake to watch a meteor shower. It was a little one but impressive enough to keep their attention, especially that of the children. Then a large number of people suddenly began to suffer convulsions, screaming and falling to the ground before going still. No one knew or understood what was happening, and many tried to help while others screamed and cried over loved ones. It was every bit as confusing and chaotic and dreadful as what the rest of the world was experiencing at that very same moment.

  Susan attempted to assist a child, a little boy, who had collapsed. His mother, a recent widow, had also been afflicted. Timothy was gently shaking her shoulder trying to get some sort of response, anything, when her eyes opened, covered with a gray, mucus like film. She turned toward him and lifted both arms, grabbing hold of his head, fingers wrapping themselves about Timothy’s short cropped hair.

  “Judith,” he said, both relieved and a bit worried at the sudden, strange movement, “you can let go. We’ll get you some help, an ambulance. Don’t worry.”

  “She’s alive!” exclaimed Susan. They hadn’t found pulses and feared the worst. “Charlie is too,” she added, when the son likewise began to stir.

  “Judith,” protested Timothy. He pried her hands free and pushed the much smaller woman back to the ground. “You need to keep still until we can find a doctor.”

  A scream sounded nearby, and Susan swiveled to see who it was. Charlie seized her arm and pulled it toward his mouth. Timothy, acting out of instinct, quickly jerked his wife away.

  “Hey!” exclaimed Susan.

  “He bit me!” someone else shrieked.

  Timothy pulled himself to his feet, dragging Susan up with him. Shouts erupted all around them, even worse than before. Some in their church group were running, seemingly going nowhere, and to one side the assistant pastor was trying to calm everyone down. Both watched as a pair of zombies collided with him, ripping huge chunks of flesh from his face and arm.

  “What’s going on?” cried Susan.

  “Judith, Charlie,” ordered Timothy, “stop that!”

  Both had risen and were moving steadily toward the couple who, in contrast, were quickly backing away.

  “What’s wrong with you?” asked Susan. “Say something. Please.”

  With no idea what was happening, they were about to turn and run like so many others when a man, another camper they hadn’t seen before, stepped up and slammed a two by four down on Charlie’s head. He was a big fellow, and the boy’s skull was cru
shed, spewing bits and pieces of brain across the grass.

  “My God! My God!” stammered Susan. She fell to her knees and began retching.

  Judith never wavered. She moved closer, targeting Susan. Timothy stepped in front of his wife, still uncertain how to react. Fortunately for him, the interloper was more decisive. The piece of wood swung sidewise. Judith staggered, and he hit her again, then a third time. She fell and stayed down.

  “You killed them,” gasped Timothy.

  “I don’t think they were alive to start with,” he replied, almost as rattled as the couple. “I’m Raymond by the way, but don’t call me that. I go by Ray.”

  “Okay,” whispered Timothy.

  “Take care of her.” He turned to go.

  “Wait, what do you mean not alive?”

  The man shrugged, somewhat apprehensively. “I’m a registered nurse, work in an ER. I checked the vitals of several of those who died. They were dead, no doubt about it.”

  “The dead don’t walk,” protested Timothy. “They don’t get up again.”

  “Either way, I’m not about to let them kill anyone else.”

  “What?”

  There was no answer forthcoming. Ray had left and was bearing down on another zombie.

  Timothy and his wife clung to one another as they stared at the melee, completely overcome by shock. Many of their longtime friends were dead, Rodney and Edie with their throats torn out. Others fell around them. People were killing and dying.

  “Take them down!” shouted Ray. He slammed the two by four into another zombie. “Before they get anyone else!”

  Most of those present ignored him, more concerned with getting away, but a few tried to fight back. Some only knocked the zombies over and held them down, not wanting to do any harm, but the monsters struggled to get free.

  “Don’t do that!” shouted Ray. “Just kill them. You have to kill them!”

  There was a gunshot, and Susan shook in Timothy’s arms. He saw one of the zombies stagger as it was hit in the chest. The man continued to fire, emptying his clip into the thing, all shots at the center of mass. It did nothing. Reloading, he put a single round in the head when the zombie was a mere three feet away. That did the job.

  “Heads!” yelled Ray. “Hit em in the head.” He’d seen it too. “It has to be the head!”

  “What’s going on?” cried Susan.

  Her husband continued to hold her tight. He had no answer. Even if he had, it would’ve been difficult to make himself heard. The commotion was growing. Then those who had been bitten and died as a result started to rise. Among them was the assistant pastor. He bumped against the table holding the lantern. It tumbled over the edge, and the light went out, casting the area in near complete darkness.

  “Where are they?” someone asked.

  Another scream was heard, one of pain.

  “Lights, get lights!”

  Timothy didn’t know who said it, but he pulled a small flashlight from his pocket and turned it on. Shining this about, he tried to make out what was happening. Others began to do the same. Then someone found and switched on a second electric lantern. That did the trick, and shortly thereafter the final zombie was killed.

  * * *

  “God damn,” declared Ray. He was coated in blood and bits of flesh and bone.

  “Please,” said Pastor Wills, “try to mind your language.”

  Given the circumstances it was an asinine, pointless comment, and the male nurse ignored the smaller man completely.

  “Are there any more of the things?”

  Someone screamed in the distance, near the tents, and Ray took off in that direction.

  “Children to me,” called the pastor, “over here. Adults too, to keep an eye on them.” He looked at Timothy and Susan. “Go assist that man brother Timothy. We have to save the others. Susan, you don’t look well. Please stay here.”

  How the pastor managed to remain calm and clear headed was beyond the two of them, but they gathered up the survivors, keeping them safe. A zombie shambled into view, heading right for the little group, but Ray was back by that time and dealt with the menace.

  “Timothy!” cried Susan. She ran forward and gripped him tight, as he trailed along behind the nurse.

  “The others?” asked the pastor.

  Ray shook his head. “Bad over there. We got some injured, but a lot of the campers are just dead, a whole lot of fucking dead people.” He slumped to the ground, exhausted.

  Pastor Wills put a hand on the younger man’s shoulder. “You did well saving those you could. I, I’m sorry to say, did not react until it was far too late, and it was only by God’s grace that I was not killed or harmed.”

  * * *

  When the sun rose, they took stock of the destruction. A good third of the tents were down, or splattered with blood. Bodies were everywhere, some of them, too many of them, belonging to children. Many of the living were in a daze, not knowing what to do, and the injured sobbed and cursed as the infection took hold and began to grow worse.

  Finally, someone thought to start his car and turn on the radio. They couldn’t pick up many stations, but what they did find clearly indicated it was a global event. They also learned the attackers were truly dead, something they all now suspected or believed but didn’t want to talk about.

  The pastor began to organize, a skill he excelled at, assigning women to watch the children and help the injured. The men were told to gather the supplies, so they could see what they had on hand. Ray, along with a few others, mostly campers who had nothing to do with the church group, patrolled the area keeping an eye out for any more zombies, but none appeared.

  * * *

  Around 9:00 AM, a park ranger drove up. He took one look at the area and the rows of bodies they had laid out, covered with sheets or towels, and shook his head.

  “You folk need to stay put,” he said. “Don’t try to get to Chadron or any of the other towns.”

  “What’s happening there?” asked Pastor Wills.

  “They’re a mess. The police are trying to restore order, at least that’s what I’m hearing. A lot of them are dead. Some are now these… walking corpses.” He tapped one with the toe of his boot. “I’m off to check on others in the forest here, but I’ll be back.”

  He didn’t answer any other questions or linger, despite the pleas to tell them more, nor did any of the group see the man again. As far as Susan and Timothy knew, he was dead or had run off.

  * * *

  Things quickly began to fragment. Some campers simply packed up their stuff and drove off. A few of the church group did the same. The pastor asked them to wait, but they had families in Illinois, and being unable, for the most part, to reach them with their cells, they wanted to get back and check on them personally. The two who did get hold of someone were the first to go. The news was not good. One had a brother hiding in his apartment watching through the window as a nightmare unfolded. The other couple had a teenage daughter staying with her cousin. The cousin was dead, but the girl had gotten in her car and was trying to drive home when the connection was lost.

  By the time the sun set on the first dreadful day, half of the survivors had left, taking many of the injured with them, but Ray hung around. He didn’t have any family and saw no point charging into anything that was likely worse than what they now faced.

  * * *

  Those who’d been bitten grew steadily worse, and there was an ongoing debate whether or not to seek help. But between the park ranger’s warning and the news reports they’d heard, the odds of finding any were slim at best. So they remained where they were, arguing and discussing the matter over and over. Three days later, having come to no decision, the infected began to die.

  The first death had been hard, a teenager. He reanimated seven minutes later and promptly bit his father. Those who were killed by the zombies came back. Everyone had seen this, but they hadn’t thought the same would happen to those who merely became sick after getting bitten.
Looking back on it, Timothy realized this had been outright stupidity on their part, with a lot of willful denial mixed in, and it had cost another life.

  The man who was bitten watched as Raymond clubbed his son, crushing the skull so badly that part of the scalp peeled away. He looked at his own arm, said nothing, and walked off. They watched him disappear into the trees. He never came back.

  After that, they stood death watch over the sick, and when each one in turn rose as a zombie, he or she was put down. They then took the bodies and buried them with the others in a series of mass graves a quarter mile from their camp.

  * * *

  “Still staying Ray?” asked Pastor Wills.

  “Nowhere else to go,” he replied.

  Most of the remaining campers, those not part of the church group, had left. After seeing the bitten perish and reanimate, a few more of the preacher’s flock also departed, saying they couldn’t stay away from their families any longer or giving some other, rational justification. The pastor thought it unfortunate – he truly believed they would not make it back safely – but he could not, in clear conscience, argue with their reasons.

  By the fourth day, all the remaining people had gathered in one spot, moving their tents from the outlying campgrounds. It seemed safer.

  * * *

  It was on the fifth day that they decided to leave the national forest and check out Chadron. The park ranger had advised them to avoid the town, but the majority wanted to know what was happening. They needed additional information. Ray was at the forefront in promoting this cause, and even the pastor was leaning toward a small expedition to bring back some news of the outside. In the end, eleven men volunteered to go. They loaded up in three cars and drove off.

  “What do you think?” asked Susan.

  She was sitting beside Timothy atop a fallen tree trunk near the water’s edge. The group, led by Ray, had been gone most of the day. It was already past five in the afternoon, and there’d been no sign of them.