Wake Up Dead - an Undead Anthology

by Suzanne Robb

She sped down the streets, trying not to hit people. She knew in her head they weren’t people, they were zombies. The knowledge didn’t want to sink in, and as a result she tried to avoid hitting as many people, things, or zombies as she could.

  Out of nowhere one of the zombies stood directly in front of the car, Clare couldn’t avoid it. Within seconds its body rolled up onto the hood of their SUV causing the windshield to splinter. Clare stood on the breaks and the body rolled off, a lone eyeball eerily looked in before rolling away.

  She turned down a dead-end alley to avoid an accident with another vehicle, and wanted to yell in frustration.

  Stopping the car, she was about to put it in reverse when she saw zombies running towards them.

  As much as she wanted to mow them down she couldn’t, she was still having a hard time accepting what was happening.

  Driving forward, she reached the end of the alley and examined her options.

  A fire escape ladder to the left, but Dana wouldn’t make it in her condition. The only other choice was a door to the side, hopefully unlocked. Clare grabbed the bags, opened her door and ran to Dana’s side of the car.

  “Wait in there!” Dana gave her a dirty look, Clare could live with that.

  The door looked promising, but didn’t budge. She kicked, punched, and resorted to screaming at it in order to open it.

  Looking down the alley at least a dozen zombies were closing in. Clare was about to get back in the car when the door opened.

  Clare reached behind her and opened Dana’s side of the truck. Clare forced Dana inside, Clare close behind her. Almost in the clear, a mangled hand reached out and grabbed Clare. She turned to try and fight her way free. When she saw what stood in front of her, she screamed.

  Her doubts about them being zombies were gone. The entire front part of the zombie was torn open, entrails hanging out. The lower part of its jaw was shattered, hanging by threads of rotting flesh. She tried to push it away when she saw a blade come down and sever the zombie’s arm from its body. A strong hand grabbed her and pulled her inside the door.

  “Shut the door, and block it you morons!”

  A male voice, to Clare he sounded angry.

  She could tell someone was trying to talk to her. She could hear a door being slammed, something large being dragged. Clare could feel someone rubbing her hands, slowly she came back to her senses. She saw Dana, and started to calm instantly.

  “You okay?” Clare heard the concern in Dana’s voice and forced herself to pull it together.

  “Yeah, I’m okay physically, but if you mean in reference to the situation out there, then I would have to go with hell no.”

  A short man with a piece of pipe looked at them with apprehension.

  “I need to look you two over in case you were bit.”

  The man was awkward at best as he looked them over. Clare could see the fear written across his face. He was just as scared as they were.

  “Okay, you two seem fine, follow me.”

  They followed the man to the center of some sort of warehouse. Entering the main area they saw at least three dozen survivors. Most of them wore expressions of disbelief or loss, with one exception.

  He sat off in the corner, and every few minutes would look up and a look of guilt would spread across his face.

  He wore a pair of faded camouflage pants, and spit-shined black boots. Clare recognized ex-military when she saw it. She noticed he was cleaning off a knife, and realized he’d been the one to save her and Dana.

  “Hey, honey, wait here. I’m going to go and talk to that guy over there. See if he knows anything.”

  Clare walked over to the man. He sat next to a motorcycle, and upon closer inspection the tattoos and apparel made him look more like a biker. A cigarette hung from his mouth.

  “Hey, I just want to say thanks for saving our butts back there.”

  “Whatever, doesn’t matter. We’re all going to die, you can’t stop the Reaper.”

  “Okay, I just wanted to say thanks.”

  He looked at her, and then looked back down at his knife. Clare walked away.

  “How did it go, he didn’t look too happy to be talking to you.”

  “It went fine, are you hungry? You should probably eat something.” Clare rummaged in the bag.

  “Not right now, come here.” Dana patted a spot on the box next to her.

  A loud crash was heard and a man from one of the upper levels screamed.

  One of the survivors convulsed on the floor, as others moved away from him. Clare stood in front of Dana protectively. She looked around for something to beat his head in, since the others were trying to hide. The survivor, now the infected, stood on shaky legs. His eyes scanned the area methodically, zeroing in on the weakest link.

  As he began to run for the person closest to him, Clare heard a shot. The biker she’d been talking to earlier stood there, a smoking pistol in his hand. The infected fell to the ground, a small hole above his left eye.

  “No one touch it, get some tarps to wrap it in, and some sort of protective gear if you can. We need to get a fire going too,” the biker ordered.

  Clare wondered how he knew what to do, but let the question float to the back of her head as she went to work helping clean up the mess. No way would she let Dana, or their child be exposed to something like this rancid mess.

  The remaining survivors made quick work of the body, tossing him out one of the upper windows of the old warehouse.

  When they were back on the main floor Clare made sure Dana was settled, before heading over to the biker.

  *

  Frank Williams saw her coming and knew she would want to talk. Ask him how he knew what to do to the infected guy. He sighed and shut his eyes as she sat on a crate next to him.

  “Hi there, got a few questions for you. I’ll start with something easy, like your name.”

  Frank looked up and half-smiled. “Frank Williams.”

  “Frank, it’s nice to meet you. Now want to tell me how the hell you knew what to do with that…that…zombie?”

  How much should he tell her? How much would she believe?

  “I can tell you, but when I’m done you’ll wish I hadn’t,” Frank said in a serious tone.

  “I want to know, the woman I love and my future child are in here. I want to know anything that will better equip me to protect them.”

  Frank nodded. “It started years ago in an underground military lab. They wanted to develop a super soldier, make a serum that would essentially cause them to regenerate any injury suffered on the battlefield,” Frank paused. “The lab coats developed some sort of virus instead, but that isn’t what I remember. I only recall the altered ones. Those were the poor bastards that they experimented on. They’re the ones who died, only to come back as cannibalistic monsters. They’re the ones outside.”

  Clare interrupted. “You mean to tell me the government created this? Why the hell would they let it loose on their own people?”

  “Five years ago, I worked in one of the facilities. As was expected, the experiment failed and the place was filled in. I tried to talk to people, get them to stop. But no one listened, I left. Been on the run waiting for this day to come. The government didn’t do it on purpose, but what do you think happens when people try to play God?” Frank raised his voice towards the end of his speech.

  “That’s great and all, but it doesn’t tell me crap. How do we kill them? Why did that guy randomly alter into one of the infected?”

  Frank tossed his knife on the ground and looked at Clare.

  “The infection is spread by fluid on fluid contact, so most likely a bite.”

  Clare shivered, but from the look on her face he knew she wanted to know it all.

  “If you’re infected you can alter within seconds, or hours. So that guy, most likely had an injury he didn’t tell anyone about, and as a result put us all in danger.”

  Clare shook her head. “We were examined before we got in here. How could y
ou miss an injury that led to the poor guys death?”

  “Could have been internal, hell he was here before me. For all I know he was the first one in here and no one ever looked him over.”

  “Christ, so what do we do? Can we fight them? I took one on and the thing was strong as hell.”

  “The only way to take them down is with a head shot, stop all brain activity. When the numbers are high enough, they’ll be able to break down the doors. That’s is all I know. Oh, there is one more thing - there’s no cure.”

  *

  Clare sat in silence trying to stay calm after everything Frank just told her. How was she going to protect her family?

  “Damn, they’ve breached the North section of the yard,” one of the survivors yelled out.

  Clare searched to find something to protect Dana with. A rusted piece of pipe was the only thing she found. There were two exits; the one to the alley which she knew was full of zombies, and the other next to loading bay doors.

  They were boxed in by the damn zombies. Clare realized the lower level wasn’t going to be safe for long; she needed to get Dana upstairs.

  “Come on, we’re going upstairs. It’ll be safer there.” Clare grabbed the bags and helped Dana to her feet.

  Clare found a corner for Dana to settle into, and then headed over to the window to see what they were dealing with.

  Sure enough a group of at least thirty zombies breached a section of the exterior wall, and more were coming. Looking down she saw they still needed to break through the bay doors, but it was only a matter of time. They had to do something now or they were going to be overrun.

  “What’s the plan?” she asked out loud.

  Everyone turned to look at Clare. A man in his forties with a beer belly and receding hairline spoke up.

  “Plan? There is no plan. This outbreak happened too fast. Law enforcement was the first to go down, then military. You can see it only took moments. We’re doomed.”

  “Before we go with the doomed scenario, what can we do to protect ourselves, what kind of weapons do we have, and is there any way to find out what is going on in other places?” Clare would be damned if she gave up on her family so easy.

  A skinny looking teenager with acne and bad hair stepped forward. He took off his earphones and placed a radio on the table, it was broadcasting the news.

  “It looks as if most of the Southeastern part of the country has been hit hard, with outbreaks also occurring in the Southwestern states. There are military strongholds left in the Midwest and West coast areas. As far as we know this is an outbreak of pandemic proportions. The government has issued curfews, and Marshall Law has been enacted.”

  Static broke up the message for a moment.

  “Infection spreads easily via contamination with bodily fluids. The CDC stated that the virus cannot live for more than a minute outside of the host depending on the atmospheric conditions, the more moisture in the air, the longer it can survive. The government is working with the CDC on a cure, and all those who have been infected are urged to seek military help. Those still alive to take refuge find a safe place to wait for reinforcements.”

  The teenager turned off the radio. Walking away he stood in a corner with a blank look on his face as he stared into the loading area.

  Clare spoke up. “Okay, all we need to do is hold them off until they send help.”

  Frank started laughing, everybody turned to look at him.

  “Excuse me, but are you really that stupid? Do you actually think they’re going to rescue us in time?”

  “Not if the rest of the military is like you, good thing you deserted. You’re pathetic, it’s like you want to die. If you aren’t going to help, shut the hell up.”

  Looking down towards the loading area she saw more and more zombies, close to fifty now. Looking around the yard to see what they had to work with she spotted a fuel tank, wooden crates, and a dumpster.

  “Would it be possible to blow them up somehow using the fuel tank?”

  “Sure, if you want to blow us up too.” Frank stood next to her staring into the yard.

  “What if we just ruptured the fuel tank enough to ignite them, burning them to a crisp? The wooden boxes would keep things going for a bit too.” Clare threw out ideas desperately.

  “What do you plan on doing when the building catches fire?”

  “We use these,” she said holding up a fire extinguisher, “and when they’re empty we use our feet or hands. We do what it takes.”

  Frank nodded in agreement, but Clare saw a shadow in his eyes. His emotions were all over the place, but pain showed through the clearest.

  The teenager stepped forward. “I bet I could rig a pressure hose to spray the fuel onto the zombies. It would cut risk of the building catching fire, but there’s no way I’m going to go and do it with fifty of those things trying to eat me.”

  “What’s your name?” Clare asked.

  “Thomas.”

  “Okay, Thomas, I’m Clare. Frank and I will help you, so will the others.”

  “Who put you in charge? What makes you think we even want to do anything? We’re safe for now,” a stout woman said as she held her a small child close to her.

  Clare, irritated with their lack of survival instinct, had enough.

  “Look, I know you think we can hide in here forever, or perhaps by some miracle the military will parachute in and save us. The truth is, unless you start thinking about this second, this very moment, we’re going to die. Do you understand?”

  The people looked at one another, some unsure of what to say, others too terrified to speak.

  “We could just toss flaming rags at them from here for now, once they catch on fire I don’t think they’ll be smart enough to put themselves out,” a woman suggested.

  “We could drop some stuff from up here and create a mini barricade so when they catch fire they aren’t close to the building, buying us some time,” a man from the back spoke up

  Clare nodded. They were all good ideas, they just had to pick one and go with it. She glanced at Dana, she looked scared.

  Looking down below in the main warehouse area, she saw Frank and wondered what he was doing. Turning her head she stared out the window, praying.

  She tried to open one, but paint and rust sealed them shut years ago. Using her pipe she began to break them.

  “What are you doing?” The man with receding hair and a beer belly yelled at her.

  “What does it look like? I’m being proactive in saving my life. You might want to give it a try,” Clare said harsher than she intended.

  Other people stepped forward and broke windows, while some gathered large items and worked together to toss them out to create some sort of barricade between the zombies and the large delivery doors.

  Clare was about to move to another window when Frank stopped her. Looking at him, she noticed he wasn’t looking at her with disdain, she thought there might even be some respect. A second later he glanced away, his face blank once more.

  He held a half-empty bottle of vodka with a rag wedged in the top of it. He pulled a lighter out of his pocket and lit it. Waiting a few seconds he finally tossed it out the window. Everybody crowded the window, wanting to see what happened when the cannibalistic monsters were lit up.

  The bottle cracked open on top of one of the zombies heads. The fire spread to several surrounding it, and then within moments at least a dozen were on fire.

  The smell of burning flesh horrid, but what was truly eerie about the sight was how they kept moving around, trying to break in. The fact they were on fire and slowly melting until they were nothing but smoking piles of charred remains, went ignored. Clare noticed they still moved their ashen bodies if the head was intact.

  Perhaps fifteen of the zombies were lamed, but fifty remained and the number was going up as they poured into the yard. The scent of the survivors was drawing them in.

  Clare watched in horror as the new arrivals feasted on the bodies of the bur
ned ones. Others broke off into packs and took down some of the weaker ones ripping them apart, eating greedily.

  They needed to move the dumpster to block the hole, and take out the ones in the loading area before they could consider themselves safe, even if it was only for a little while.

  How was she supposed to protect her wife in this situation? The others went back to dropping items, and Frank went back to sharpening his knife. Clare went to Dana.

  “Hey you, how are you feeling?”

  “How bad is it?” Clare squatted next to Dana and brushed some hair out of her eyes, she noticed she was sweating.

  “Not too bad, we can handle it. Are you okay?” Clare started to panic, did Dana get bit?

  “Good, do you want the good news or the bad news then?” Clare didn’t want either.

  “Can it wait?”

  “Nope,” Dana exhaled loudly.

  Clare watched as a flash of pain crossed Dana's face.

  “What is it? Is it the baby?” Dana reached out and grabbed Clare’s hand as she let out a pained scream.

  “Yeah, she’s ready to come out.”

  “Okay, is that the good news or bad news?” Clare asked in a panic.

  Dana gave her a dirty look.

  “Right, that’s the good news, of course it is. So the bad news is?”

  “Unless your psychology training included a class on birthing a baby during a zombie apocalypse, I think we have a problem.”

  “I skipped that day.” Dana squeezed her hand once again followed by an agonized grunt.

  “Funny…” Dana’s breath was short and labored.

  “Trust me honey, let’s get you comfortable, then I’ll find someone who can help.”

  Clare began to manoeuvre Dana.

  Standing, she yelled. “Is anyone here a doctor? If not I’ll settle for a veterinarian, anyone who has been through the birth of a child, or seen a video.”

  The warehouse went silent, enough of an answer for her.

  “Okay, I can do this,” she thought to herself.

  Clare kneeled next to Dana.

  “I need to boil some water, get some newspapers, something sharp to cut the cord...”