DEAD: Onset: Book One of the New DEAD series

by TW Brown

  I tried the door and made a hissing sound between my teeth out of frustration when I discovered it was locked. Seeing no other recourse, I stepped back, aimed the pistol at the glass door right by the handle, and pulled the trigger. A neat hole appeared, along with a few cracks. Using my elbow, I gave the window a good bang and was rewarded with my fingers again going numb as I hit my not-so-funny-bone flush with the still unyielding glass.

  Something made me look up as I was dancing around making all kinds of noise from the stinging pain shooting down my arm, and I saw that the large female zombie had obviously heard me and decided to come check me out. She was at the glass already since the front area of the shop was so small.

  This was actually the closest that I’d been to one other than Steph back in the hospital, and back then, I’d been trying to escape with my life. Now that I had this miniscule bit of safety between me and this member of the walking dead, I could not help but try to take a closer look.

  Her face was slack. That was definitely something that added to the creepy factor. Despite her obvious desire to get at me and eat me alive, there was no anger or malice in her facial expression. She simply stared out at me as she tried to bite through the glass. Her mouth left an ugly slime trail of gray and yellow mucus flecked with bits of black. Seeing no other alternative, I pointed the gun at the woman’s forehead after taking a step back, just in case.

  The gunshot was just another joining the chorus that could be heard coming from all around, but that didn’t make me feel any better about being out in the open after making so much racket.

  On the good side, I must’ve hit the perfect spot, because the window blew into a bunch of tiny shards and the zombie toppled back, landing on the floor with a meaty slap. I leaned forward and found the little twist knob that acted as the old-fashioned kind of door lock and turned it.

  “Are you okay?” I asked as I squeezed in past the fallen corpse to at least get off the street for a moment. As soon as the words came out of my mouth I felt like an idiot. Who, at this moment in time, felt okay about anything?

  “You shot Miss Crebbs,” a shaky voice replied.

  At first I thought this person was going to deny the fact that Miss Crebbs had just about been ready to eat him like one of the cupcakes that I saw on the last remaining display shelf that hadn’t been knocked over with its contents trodden underfoot. Then the young man I pegged to be in his very early twenties jumped down and flung his arms around me.

  “As much as I appreciate the gratitude, we need to get out of here.” To emphasize my point, several seconds of what sounded like automatic weapons being fired came from an uncomfortably close distance.

  The two of us exited the cupcake shop and were halfway to the truck when a car came barreling around the corner. Perched outside the vehicle and seated in the open rear windows were a pair of individuals wearing bandanas around the lower part of their faces. Each had a rather military looking rifle pointed skyward.

  We were out in the open with no place to run and I felt my blood chill as both rifles lowered to point in our direction as the car skidded to a stop. As I saw flame belching from the barrels of both guns, all I could do is close my eyes and wait for death to come in a hailstorm of flying lead.

  4

  Martial Law

  “Run!” a voice shouted as soon as the gunfire ceased.

  I opened my eyes and was amazed to see that I was still alive. Not a single bullet had touched me. I glanced over to the person I’d just basically rescued from the bakery to see that he was also unharmed.

  The sounds of moans from behind me caused me to stumbled forward out of reflex and I turned to see a dozen walking dead stumbling towards me. They were less than a half a block away and very intent on adding me and my mystery friend to their numbers…or at least their menu.

  I grabbed my companion’s hand and ran towards the car. I could tell as I approached that it was already too full to allow even one more person, but that wasn’t my ultimate destination anyway.

  “Thank you!” I shouted, giving the guy closest to me a sloppy salute.

  “Best get off the street!” one of the car’s occupants called after us. “Word is that the military is shooting everything that moves…living, dead, or otherwise.”

  My new cohort raced around my truck without being told and was waiting for me to unlock the passenger side. By the time we got in, our unnamed rescuers had mowed down the majority of that group of zombies and were speeding past the downed bodies that were scattered all over the street.

  I decided that they probably knew better about which direction to go than I did; and besides, that was the direction that I’d been headed. It would take me to my ultimate destination of Franklin High School where there was supposed to be a FEMA or Red Cross station of some sort.

  “Name’s Morey Reynolds,” my passenger said, leaning forward around Chewie to try and make eye contact.

  “Evan Berry,” I answered, jerking the wheel hard to the right to avoid a zombie that staggered out from between a pair of parked cars.

  “I really want to—” he began, but I cut him short.

  “We can do this later,” I said, not liking how sharp my tone sounded, but really couldn’t help it since I was now banking hard to the left to avoid the bumper of a car that had been flipped on its side and took up almost half of my side of the road. “I gotta watch where we’re going just this minute.”

  To Morey’s credit, he didn’t say another word. Chewie was a different story. She kept whimpering and whining as she lost her footing on numerous occasions and almost ended up on the floor. Once, when I had to slam on the brakes, she conked her head hard enough against the windshield to crack it. After that, Morey tried to keep a handle on her which made things considerably easier on all of us.

  We were about six blocks from the high school when I turned a corner and slammed on the brakes throwing all of us forward hard. I winced as my ribs connected awkwardly with the steering wheel. I guess that’s why we are supposed to wear seatbelts, I thought as I tried to suck in a breath past the pain.

  “Is anybody in your party bitten?” a voice called from behind the dazzling spotlight that was now hitting me square in the eyes and basically blinding me.

  Party? I thought. There are only two of us and a dog.

  “Are you bit?” I asked Morey.

  “No…Miss Crebbs gave me a nasty scratch on my arm, but I’m not bit.” I could hear something in Morey’s voice and I turned to look at him. I shaded my eyes from the beam that had the entire cab bathed in fluorescent white.

  He looked really pale, and that was beyond what the light was doing. Sure enough, there they were…those damn black squiggles in his eyes that made them look like they were bloodshot. His straight brown hair was a bit greasy, matted; and sweat had it plastered to his forehead. He had an unfortunately abundant degree of acne scarring on his cheeks that stood out in purplish hues under the spotlight.

  “You sure?” I asked.

  His head jerked around to me and those dark tracers weren’t the only thing that I saw in his eyes. I also saw fear. He might not be bitten, but he was infected with whatever it was that was turning normal people into flesh eating monsters from all those horror movies, and I think he knew it.

  “Yeah, see?” He pulled his shirt sleeve up and showed me a set of furrows in the meaty part of his forearm.

  “And that’s it?”

  “Jesus, man…I think I’d know if I was bit.”

  I stuck my head out the window. “Nobody in here is bit,” I shouted to the handful of soldiers standing in front of a trio of Hummers that blocked the road.

  Now that my eyes were adjusting somewhat to the glare as well as the fact that the spotlight had moved just a bit, I could see three large machine guns, one mounted on top of each of the Hummers. No surprise, they were trained directly on us. I could also make out at least two dozen bodies sprawled on the road. A couple of them were missing their entire head; no doubt
they’d taken a couple of rounds from one of those wicked .50 cals.

  “We need you to exit your vehicle with your hands in the air.” A trio of soldiers were now headed for us, their weapons not actually pointing at us, but they were slung in front and I doubted they had the safeties engaged. I was pretty sure they were all carrying M4s.

  As they neared, I spotted little red pinpoints dancing on the ground. Laser sights. Yeah, there was not going to be any resistance from me. As crass as it sounded in my own head, if they said they were taking Morey to some sort of quarantine, or worse, killing or simply not allowing him in, then that was his problem. I’d done my good deed when it came to the guy.

  “We need you to step out of the truck,” one of the soldiers said. Funny thing was that it really did sound like more of a request than an order.

  “Stay here, girl,” I said to Chewie, then opened my door and climbed out.

  I was sort of anxious for a moment as Morey appeared to hesitate, but relaxed just a bit when I heard the door open on the passenger’s side. I closed my door just to make sure that Chewie stayed put.

  “Can you take that weapon and set it on the ground and then walk three steps past it, please.” That wasn’t a request, and I spied the man who’d spoken as he advanced ahead of the others. He looked to be about my age and the oldest of the bunch when it came to the soldiers manning this post.

  I did as I was told and set my axe on the street. To hopefully gain a bit more trust in the eyes of the man, I carefully pulled the remnant of the belt which had luckily held the holster—where I’d slid the Beretta—as well as the magazine pouch and set it down beside my axe. I glanced up and saw the look in the soldier’s eyes. It was a mix of gratitude and annoyance, which might’ve been at me for having the weapon, but I think was more directed at himself for having missed it, slung sort of over my shoulder like it had been.

  “You need to strip down,” the soldier said. Again, this was not a question.

  “Why?” I asked, although I had a good idea.

  “We are just performing random checks to make sure that people who are claiming not to be bitten are telling the truth.”

  “Random?” I scoffed.

  “Believe it or not, a few hours ago it was totally random. We had such an influx that we would’ve lost half of those waiting in line to the zips if we’d checked every single person,” the soldier informed me.

  Now that he was up close, I could see his eyes and the tremendous amount of fatigue in them. In the ambient light from all the vehicles and the spotlights, I could see that they were a steel blue. The lines etched around them were made even darker in contrast, and now I was not as sure that we were so close in age. He looked to be at least ten years older up close.

  I peeled off my pants and shirt and was going for my boxers when he held up a hand. “If you’re bitten there, you wouldn’t be standing,” he said with a weak chuckle that showed his attempt at humor.

  “Hey, Sarge?” one of the soldiers called from over where Morey had stripped down.

  “Yeah?” He turned and I scooped up my pants and shirt and began getting dressed again, although I continued to pay attention to how this was about to play out.

  “This guy has a nasty scratch…no bite, but that scratch apparently came from one of the zips.”

  “We were told to watch out for bites.”

  I had to bite my tongue. Honestly, did they not see his eyes? Still, it wasn’t my place. Besides, these guys were running the show and had to know what was going on better than I did. Maybe just getting those tracers in the eyes is not the official sign that you’re infected like I had led myself to believe.

  A voice in the back of my head started to scold me for being an idiot, but I was suddenly feeling as tired as that sergeant looked. I just wanted to get inside the secure area, find a place to hunker down, and then get some sleep and figure things out tomorrow.

  “You two can go ahead and go inside,” the sergeant told us. “Drive to the football field and park the truck there. Either of you familiar with the school?”

  “Actually, today was supposed to be my first day there as a teacher,” I replied.

  Holy crap! Had it just been this morning when I’d pulled in all excited about my new job?

  “Well then, you need to go to the gymnasium and check in. From there you will be assigned to a bed. They will explain the way everything works once you get inside.” He glanced over to my truck. “Unfortunately, the dog can’t go in.”

  “Say what?” I snapped as I picked up my axe and the belt with the Beretta.

  “Resources are not set up for animals. Food is already a concern if this goes longer than just a couple of days. And that stays as well.” He nodded to the handgun I’d slung over my shoulder.

  “I have her food, and as for my weapons, I don’t see just going in there and waiting like a cow at the slaughtering pen. If things fall apart—” I started to argue.

  “You got a permit to carry?” the sergeant said in a voice that was equal parts tired and annoyed.

  “Actually…” I fished out my wallet, but he was holding up a hand.

  “I don’t care. But we just can’t allow civilians to all be jammed in there with a bunch of weapons. Nerves are frayed and people are already on edge. The last thing we need is for folks to add weapons to the mix.”

  “What if I promise to keep it in my truck?”

  “You turn them in to us and we give you a ticket. When we break down this camp, you can check in with the supply officer and he will return your firearm.” The words rolled out of the sergeant’s mouth like he’d said them a thousand times; and maybe he had by now.

  The fact remained that I did not see anything good coming from me not having a way to protect myself if things went bad. I glanced at Morey and then back at the sergeant.

  “Maybe I’ll try my luck out here,” I said.

  If he picked up anything in my glance at my human travelling companion, he didn’t let on. “Actually, that is not really an option.”

  “Excuse me?”

  “Martial law was instituted and nobody is allowed out on the streets at this point. You can either enter of your own will…” There was an implied threat in his voice.

  “Or?” I shot back. If this guy was going to act the part of the big, tough army man, then I wanted his to say the words.

  “If you attempt to leave, we will detain you.”

  “And if I resist?”

  “You do understand the concept of martial law, don’t you?”

  “I just want to hear you say it.”

  “Say what?” Now he was starting to falter.

  That’s the thing about fiction. In the books and movies, they always like to paint the military and police as power hungry lunatics. Sure, there are always a few bad apples in the bunch, but just like the general population, most are good down deep. They would have to be to volunteer to do things like go into collapsing towers, burning buildings, and foreign countries where the enemy comes in every shape and size imaginable.

  “Say that you will shoot me if I attempt to leave.” I held my breath.

  I’ve played a bit of penny and peanut poker with friends. Bluffing was never something I found that I had a skill for like some folks. This was a bluff I did not want called. If he said he would shoot me, I had no idea what I would do. On one hand, there was absolutely no way that I could leave Chewie; on the other, I didn’t want to be shot either.

  “Look, if you promise to keep the dog in the truck, and…” he glanced over at my vehicle, “…I’d tell ya to try and keep it hidden, but I don’t see how you will pull that off. Maybe by the time somebody sees it—”

  “Her, Chewie is a her,” I offered, hoping to do like what they say you should do if you are ever taken hostage. If I gave her name and gender, maybe it would soften things up a bit.

  “I don’t give a good goddamn. Just try and keep the dog out of sight. And I can’t vouch for what will happen if she is discovered,
” the sergeant snapped back.

  I nodded and set down the weapons. I paused, figuring the unasked question would do me no good. “If I put it in the cab, how about I keep my axe?”

  “Sure, just get a move on, you’ve attracted zips and my boys have work to do.”

  I turned to look and saw a handful of dark forms staggering our direction. That was enough for me tonight. I hurried to the cab with my axe in hand.

  I climbed in and smiled when I noticed the box tucked in behind the front seat. I still had my Ruger .357. What they didn’t know wouldn’t hurt them, I guess.

  One of the Hummers inched back to allow me to pass. I gave the soldiers a wave and received grim nods in response. I couldn’t blame them.

  I headed up the street and noticed that every single house on both sides had the doors open. Stakes with white streamers were planted in the front yards. I guess that meant those locations had been searched and probably emptied of anything worth a darn.

  That assumption was confirmed when I turned the corner to see a pair of the big military transport vehicles parked sort of staggered and across the street from each other; each pointing the way I was coming from, which I found a bit odd. Soldiers were walking out of the houses carrying plastic containers full of stuff. That was stranger still.

  I understood the basics of martial law probably as much as the next person. I was pretty certain that it did not give the military the right to basically loot private residences. Not that I was gonna make a fuss, but I would remember this if we came out the other side. Somebody would be held accountable for what I was witnessing if I had anything to say about it.

  Once I passed the trucks, I could focus on the here and now. I glanced over at Morey who was leaning with his head against the window. His eyes were shut and I very carefully let my foot off the gas as I clutched the axe.

  “Are we there?” he mumbled.

  “No.” I accelerated just as carefully. “Just getting a look at something.”

  It wasn’t a lie. Of course he was what I was getting a look at now that I was driving through a neighborhood with regularly spaced streetlights. I was not confident that he wasn’t infected. I know what I’d seen in his eyes and still couldn’t believe that the soldiers at the checkpoint hadn’t stopped him or whatever it was that they were doing with those who’d been bitten. I was guessing they either turned them away…or worse.