Zombie Reign (Book 4): Redemption

by Joseph Edward

  “People noticed,” Tommy continued, “but no one cared. The ones who did voice a concern were labeled as crazy misguided patriots and were simply dismissed as paranoid. The trouble was, in reality it wasn’t that the government was plotting and was going to turn on us. The government really was working on, and intended, to protect us. It’s just that they went about it so secretively that it backfired on them. All of the reports of the ammo hoarding and drone deployment simply tipped their hand to the terrorist groups, who then ramped up their execution of the plan as soon as they realized what was really going on.”

  “Imagine that,” Andrew said, “the enemy was more trustful of our government and saw what they were doing as we collectively went off on a tangent. All they had to do was tell the truth, from the start, and this could have ended much differently.”

  “I doubt that,” Tommy debated, “at some point people aren’t going to change their mind regardless of what facts they are given.”

  “So, how did the virus get released?” I asked.

  “Not sure,” Tommy replied, “it all happened so fast and there are conflicting reports. The most credible theory is that one of the drone strikes on a target was successful overseas and that it led to the release of the compound. That sparked an undeclared war against the United States, where the virus was released systematically and simultaneously all over the country. None of the designated targets that were identified through our intel were actually hit. Instead it looks like it just became one huge cluster fuck of those bastards tossing the shit out everywhere and anywhere. There was talk of the initial attack coming from the inside of the CDC, but we haven’t been able to confirm that.”

  “You have to understand,” Andrew said as he leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms behind his head, “these weren’t explosives and they have absolutely no visible impact on the living. It’s not as if a bunch of explosives were let loose and sent out a signal for response. There were no buildings brought down, there were no visible casualties. This was a silent killer, one that sat and waited patiently to take hold. It wasn’t until the reanimations first began happening that we were activated and began monitoring the situation.”

  “What’s the connection with the large cities?” I asked.

  “It was all about population,” Tommy answered, “and crime. What do the large cities all have in common? They have high murder rates. If you release the virus into the population killing themselves off the fastest, you have the greatest chance of developing your army of the undead. That’s exactly what ended up happening. As soon as someone died, they simply reanimated and infected others.”

  Given the fact that I was a cop and saw firsthand the destruction that violence was dealing on the populace of Detroit, it made sick sense that large metropolitan cities would be targeted. High crime, high mortality rates, and slow police and emergency vehicle response time only added fuel to the fire the terrorists were igniting. Not to mention the significant portion of the populace in these locations that would suffer natural deaths, as grieving family members gathered around unsuspectingly and paid their last respects. I now understood how effective this strategy was and how fast it had developed.

  “Political correctness kills,” Andrew said, “and in this case, it almost destroyed the human race.”

  I flipped through the rest of the manual, which was more of an instructional guide in using the telecommunications equipment arrays and a ‘best practices’ white paper on the development of new societies within a failing one. Part operational orders and part survival guide, this was quite a read. I tried to gain additional insight into the “controllers” of the infected, but there was no information that gave further insight into them.

  “So what do we do now?” I asked.

  “We take back our fucking country!” Tommy yelled, as he slammed his fist into the table.

  “Can we at least leave the northern states to Canada this time? I really don’t like winter,” Andrew stated.

  “Somebody call me?” asked Eric from the hallway outside.

  “We better go,” Tommy said in an effort to conceal the conversation from Eric, “we have a lot of planning to do.”

  Now that was the biggest understatement yet…

  Chapter 3 – Double Dare

  We left the situation room and Andrew took us to the mess hall, where the rest of the group was sitting down for a meal. Once a banquet hall, the room was well decorated and had an excellent view of what used to be a golf course. It was a panoramic view to a killing field, littered with corpses and rotting flesh. If anything, the littered landscape led to reduced appetites, which probably was taken into account as part of the algorithm Jeff made for the calculations on the longevity of their supplies.

  Dinner for the night was venison chili and cornbread. It was one of those moments where we could have been served frosted cardboard and it would have tasted like Pop-Tarts. Then again, maybe frosted cardboard would actually taste better than Pop-Tarts anyway given my dislike of the toxic sugary treats. I think you get the idea – a hot meal was really hitting the spot.

  Well, that was true for most of us except Justin. He was an excellent cook and spent more time dissecting the ingredients and spice combinations than enjoying the nourishment that was provided to us. By the end of the meal, he was jockeying for a position in the kitchen and whipped up a quick dessert to help make his case.

  We sat around discussing the viability of the base for the upcoming winter before heading back to our quarters. The living space was cramped, with community bathrooms and showers, but still better than the alternative. Eric and Justin were sharing a room that had a makeshift bunk bed. They had been fighting all afternoon about who was going to get the top bunk.

  The argument carried on until Justin, who had been rummaging through the food supplies, finally found his holy grail. It was a 5-pound gummi bear. These mythical beasts boasted over 6,000 calories and were a one way ticket to diabetes.

  “You want the top bunk?” Eric asked.

  “Sure,” Justin replied, “thanks!”

  “Whoa, bro! Not so fast! How about a brotherly wager?”

  “What did you have in mind?” Justin came back with a puzzled look.

  “A simple dare,” Eric said as he pointed to the gummi bear, “if you eat that entire bear in an hour, I’ll give you the top bunk. If not, then I get it.”

  “Deal.”

  Justin was known for his affection for the gummi, but this was absolutely ridiculous. There was no way humanly possible that Justin was going to be able to consume the entire 5-pound sticky sugary concoction within an hour, let alone a full day.

  “You guys are idiots,” Tommy interjected, “you do realize that eating that whole thing would probably kill you, right?”

  “No, it won’t,” Justin replied to him as he grabbed the gooey monstrosity and sized it up, “it’s just a bunch of gummi bears made into one big one – no harm in that.”

  “Seriously Justin,” I added, “we don’t have the time to run around getting you insulin shots on top of everything else we have to prepare for. Maybe it’s not such a good idea.”

  “Hogwash, I got this!”

  “Who the fuck says ‘hogwash’?” Tommy asked as he burst out laughing.

  “The guy on the bottom bunk, that’s who!” Eric replied.

  “I’ll show you bottom bunk! Start your timing – now!” Justin yelled as his incisors dug deep into the right ear of the emerald green gummi. “Mmmmm, appuh flavuh…” he muttered as he began chewing away.

  About five minutes later, Justin switched to from the ears to the feet. About ten minutes after that, he started turning a shade of green just a bit lighter than the bear. It was clear he was fading fast, but he refused to give in. For the rest of the hour, he struggled with alternating chews and bites. Every so often there was a gag that was suppressed, but he held his ground and kept gnawing away towards victory.

  Looking around the table, we all shared the same morbi
d fascination watching Justin consume the gummi bear. It was a full hour of tearing and chewing, gagging and swallowing, as he persisted in whittling away the torso. Sweat beads appeared on his brow as he was lost in his eating frenzy.

  I believe that we all shared a similar thought watching this unfold. If Justin was to turn, he could probably devour our entire group in less than four hours. The blood lust he had for this oversized treat was making us nauseous, as the sweet bitter apple scent permeated the room with each exhale of breath he produced.

  “Done!” Justin said as he licked the last stingy vestiges of the gummi from his hands and fingers. He completed the task in just 54 minutes!

  “I think I’m going to be sick,” Karen said as she excused herself from the table covering her mouth.

  Logan, Claire, Brandon and Nicholas were cheering Justin on as he extended his palms out to Eric for inspection.

  “Okay,” Eric said succeeding to Justin, “you win. But, when you die from the sugar shock, I’m getting the top – understand?”

  “No problem bro’,” Justin said as he walked back into the kitchen area to wash his hands.

  As the double doors swung closed behind Justin, there was an awful snapping sound followed by a wet slap that echoed from the back room. As Tommy and I rushed to see what it was, one of the cooks came out from the back. Her front apron was covered in what appeared to be a greenish slime and watery chili. Not a good sight – and an ever worse smell. The sound of retching continued from the back room.

  “Well,” Tommy said as he turned back to Eric, “you never said that he had to keep it down!”

  That was all that needed to be said as the entire dining area cleared out as if a fire alarm had been pulled. I was a little disappointed that chili probably wouldn’t be served again for a while, and no one would be touching a gummi bear for quite some time…

  Chapter 4 – First Contact

  We settled into our “rooms” for the night, with each of us being given a propane radiant heater for warmth. The nights were getting longer and also much cooler now, as winter was fast approaching. I was restless as I tossed and turned in my cot, listening to the steady pop of gunfire in the distance. The night patrols around the perimeter were kept busy and the noise had me longing for the quiet, albeit brief, slumbers at Tommy’s. Regardless of the gunfire, the knock on my doorframe startled me.

  I rolled over to see the silhouette of a woman in the doorway, and slammed my eyes shut as a flashlight beam struck me in the face.

  “What the hell,” I said as I shielded my eyes and peeked out to see who was there.

  “Oh, sorry,” was the whispering reply.

  “Karen?” I asked, somewhat recognizing the voice but the scent assaulting my olfactory nerves gave it away as I picked up a distinct hint of rainbow.

  “Yep,” she replied as she came in the room, “sorry about that. I couldn’t sleep. It’s really been bothering me...”

  “What has?”

  “What you and Eric did for me. You two almost got killed, along with your friends, rescuing me. You took a lot of risk to your own group to save me and I just want you to know how grateful I am. If there is anything I can do to return the favor, I will.”

  “Anything?” I thought I said to myself, but actually said out loud.

  “Anything,” she answered as she drew me near.

  Just as our faces met, I felt a cold slap on the back of my neck.

  “Griff! Griff! Wake up!” was all I heard as I was being shaken from behind.

  “What is it?” I asked as I turned over, realizing I had been face down in my pillow – fast asleep and dreaming.

  “Breakfast is almost over,” said Eric as he opened the blinds, “you need to get something to eat before we head out.”

  “Five more minutes is all I needed,” I muttered.

  “What?”

  “Nothing,” I replied, “I’ll be there in a sec.”

  “Why would I be dreaming about her?” I asked myself out loud.

  “I know right? Me too!” said Eric as he peered back around the doorway from the hall, “Come on, let’s go already.” I didn’t entertain the conversation any further and felt it was better to just let it go.

  I scratched the back of my head and rubbed the sleep out of my eyes, stretching my hands up to the sky as I rose out of the cot. I swear that every bone in my back, as well as both knees, cracked in a symphony of stress release as I rose up. I slung my holster on and made sure my Glock was fully loaded. I made sure that I also brought along my tomahawk. Simply because we were within a compound didn’t mean I had to buy into a false sense of security. Nowhere was safe, and nothing was routine.

  As we made our way down to the mess hall, we passed the room Justin was staying in. He was curled up in the bottom bunk, frozen in the fetal position.

  “He’s been like that most of the night,” Eric said, “I took the top as he won’t be getting to it for a while. A real shame, eh?”

  I was hoping Justin would be feeling better soon, as I wanted to see what new developments he had been making for our weaponry. There was no doubt that there were some items that would come in very handy to our new friends and would benefit the perimeter patrols. Being an avid hunter, I was sure that Phil would appreciate his craftsmanship.

  We sat down for breakfast and met up with Tool, Jamie, Logan, Claire and Karen. Tommy was off somewhere with Andrew and we were probably best off not knowing the details at this point. Eric broke out into the chorus of “All I have to do is dream” by the Everly Brothers and was promptly elbowed sufficiently enough to knock the wind out of him.

  Here we were in the middle of a zombie apocalypse and I felt like I was back in junior high being trolled about a crush. Sure there was something about Karen, but the loss of Kate was still too fresh in my mind to move on. I wasn’t interested in getting over her anytime soon, and I wasn’t about to get close to someone only to lose them again. The world was too unstable for me to even think about a relationship, but something about her was conflicting with my common sense.

  Logan and Claire finished up first and went with Brandon and Nicholas for some shooting practice. Claire was well versed in archery, but needed to be brought up to speed with firearms. Steve and Kyle took them out to the rear of the compound where there was a “range” of sorts, which was more or less an open area where the walkers and runners would congregate.

  After we were finished Eric and I joined them out at the shooting lanes, which sat high upon the conex boxes and looked down at the zombies gathered below. This was no junior marksmen course where .22 rifles were used for practice or competition – this was the real deal. The kids were firing hand cannons and AR-15 rifles. It was necessary to train them on what they would be using, although the smaller caliber weapons were also very effective. The zombies had brittle skulls and it didn’t take much effort to crush through to the brain matter to put them out of commission. In the event that they had to use a smaller caliber, the practice with the more powerful weapons would build their confidence in handling the firearms and only work to improve their accuracy.

  Steve and Kyle were clearly concerned with the condition of the practice zone, as the corpses began to stack up along the conex box. This pileup was giving the approaching zombies a debris “ramp” that they would stumble on as the approached, but would then recover and begin to claw their way upwards. They weren’t able to reach the edge of the conex box just yet, but in the numbers that were appearing it wouldn’t take long before they were able to make their way higher.

  There was a young runner, coming fast from the east and soaked from head to toe. He must have bobbed his way in from the bay, as his water logged skin stretched down his arms like an oversized sweater. His skin was not the usual ashen grey, but was more bleached from being in the water so long. He was coming at a fast clip as the kids began firing away at him.

  The rounds kicked up dirt, striking the ground around him as he ran towards us. He was unsteady and
stumbling a bit as he ran. He almost appeared to be running in a serpentine pattern as he made his way towards us. One of the AR-15 rounds shot by Logan sailed through his midsection, passing through and leaving a trail of intestines flapping behind him like a kite tail in the wind. As he got closer, the haunting death screech was now audible and sent a shiver down my spine.

  Then the unthinkable happened. The runner took two giant steps, or more like leaps, up the debris pile. In one swift motion he bent at the knees and lunged upward, grabbing the side rail of the conex box. Startled, Claire screamed and jumped to the side, bumping into Nicholas. He stumbled forward and went over the side, falling face first into a pile of corpses.

  Instinctively Steve jumped down to retrieve his son. With living flesh in sight, the zombie let go of the side rail and fell to the ground in an attempt to get at Steve and Nicholas. The zombie tumbled backwards and rolled head over ass across the mound of corpses, ending up in a sitting position on the ground not far away. As he looked up at Steve and his son, I swear that he smiled as his tongue slid along his rotted teeth. Eric brought up his pistol and fired two quick rounds in a double tap to the forehead, shattering the skull of the zombie and sending it reeling backwards from the blast.

  “Get Bauer’d!” Eric yelled.

  Suddenly there was a scream from Nicholas, as Steve was helping him to his feet. They were both slipping and sliding on the messy goo of body parts, but as Steve tried to get him to safety the problem became readily apparent. There was a zombie stuck under the pile that wasn’t yet dead, but was pinned under the other corpses. The zombie had a firm grip on Nicholas by the ankle and was pulling him away from his father. With violent jerking from both sides, Nicholas was now caught in a violent life or death game tug of war.

  I could hear more gunfire and yelling from above as I made my way towards Steve and Nicholas. I unstrapped my tomahawk as I stumbled my way over, leaping towards the exposed hand and arm that had the poor boy in its grasp. With one swift motion, I brought the blade down in a crushing blow – striking just above the elbow. It took two more strikes to finally dismember the limb, which was still grasping onto his ankle as Steve helped him up the side of the conex box.