Gen Z Boxed Set

by Baileigh Higgins

  “Sorry for asking. Jeez,” Chas fired back, her temper flaring at Vivienne’s abrasive attitude.

  “Don’t get snarky with me, young lady. I’m still your mother,” Vivienne answered.

  “Are you? Really?” Chas said.

  Vivienne gasped. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “It means, you’re never there. Lala is the one who raised me. Her and Grumps. I hardly ever see you,” Chas said, hurt filling her heart. She stood up. “I don’t even know why I bother to visit. Every time I come here we fight.”

  She stormed off, only to swing around when Vivienne gripped her arm.

  “I’m sorry, Chas. I didn’t mean to lash out at you,” Vivienne said, gathering Chas into a fierce hug. “I love you, sweetheart. More than you could ever know.”

  Tears burned Chas’ eyelids. “I love you too, Mom.”

  Vivienne sniffed. “I’m just overworked, that’s all. I need a vacation.”

  “Why don’t you come back with me? You can get a good night’s sleep, at least,” Chas said, her worried gaze taking in the droop in Vivienne’s shoulders.

  Vivienne shook her head. “I can’t. Sarah needs me.”

  “How is she doing lately?”

  “Not good. This whole zombie thing is too much for the poor woman to handle.” Vivienne sniffed. “She needs me.”

  “All right, but promise me you’ll get some rest,” Chas said.

  “I promise. Now run along. You need your beauty sleep as well, my sweet,” Vivienne said, shooing her daughter away. “I’ll see you tomorrow at dinner.”

  “Yes, tomorrow,” Chas said with a sad smile, knowing it was all a lie. Goodbye, Mother. I hope I get to see you again, and I’m sorry. I’m sorry for everything.

  Chapter 4

  After visiting the infirmary, Chas and Vanessa made their way back to their tent in silence. It was just after eight and people were settling down for the night. Lamps were dimmed and candles blown out as adults and children alike sought their beds. Crickets sang in the background and a carpet of stars twinkled in the heavens.

  Chas shoved her hands in her pockets, lost in thought. Saying goodbye to her mother had been harder than she’d thought it be. Not only couldn’t she be honest, but she couldn’t be too blatant either. Her mom was clever and would pick up on unusual behavior.

  “How did it go?” Vanessa asked.

  “Okay,” Chas said, gnawing on her bottom lip.

  “That good, huh?” Vanessa asked with a sardonic smile.

  “Pretty much. You?”

  Vanessa’s features fell. “My mom’s not getting any better. She hardly recognized me, Chas. They’ve got her drugged to the eyeballs.”

  “I’m sorry to hear that.”

  Vanessa shrugged. “I guess it’s better this way. She can’t miss what she can’t remember.”

  Chas slung an arm around her friend’s shoulders. “It’ll be okay, I promise. We’ll be back before you know it.”

  “Yeah,” Vanessa replied with a dip of her head. “I sure hope so.”

  Their tent came into view, and Chas ducked inside. Her grandmother was lying in her cot reading a book. She arched an eyebrow at the two girls. “Back so soon?”

  “It’s been a long day,” Chas replied. “I thought I’d catch an early night.”

  Lala frowned and sat upright. “Are you feeling okay? I hope you’re not coming down with something, hun!”

  “No, nothing like that, Lala,” Chas said, warding off her grandmother’s concerns with a wave of her hands. “I’m tired, that’s all.”

  “That’s not like you, dear. Are you sure you’re all right?”

  Vanessa shot Chas a pointed look before climbing into her own bed. The kind of look that said, “You’d better think of something fast. She knows something is wrong, and you need to throw her off track.”

  Chas sighed and sat down next to her grandmother. “To be honest, I’m feeling stressed out, Lala. This thing with Cook, and the zombies outside…I don’t know what’s wrong with me.”

  “Now, don’t you worry about Cook. I’ll take care of him, no matter what that stuck-up Lieutenant Steele might say. Stealing food is wrong. How dare he?”

  Lala’s indignant tone made Chas smile, and for a moment, she pitied Jenkins. When Lala got hold of him, he’d be sorry he ever took so much as a crust of bread. Her sympathy for Cook fled the moment her grandmother turned on her, though.

  “As for the zombies, I sure hope you haven’t been up in the watchtower again, mooning over the stupid things day and night.”

  “Of course not, Lala. I swear,” Chas protested.

  Lala wagged a finger at her. “You’d better be telling the truth, missy, because if I find out you’ve been up there, you’ll be washing floors with a toothbrush for a week!”

  “I haven’t, I promise,” Chas said.

  “Now, I know it’s scary, and I know Johnson’s death shook you up, but I don’t want you going back to those first few days, hun,” Lala said, gripping Chas’ hands with her own. “That’s no way to grieve. Staring at dead people all day looking like you want to die yourself. Your friend wouldn’t have wanted that, would he?”

  Chas looked down at her grandmother’s hands, the skin papery and spotted…old, but the fingers still strong, their grip fierce. Her thoughts flew back to the first few days after they were trapped here on the mountain. Days when she mourned the loss of her friend, Johnson. Days spent staring at the sea of undead that separated her from her grandfather, Grumps, and her other friends, Julia and Alvarez. Nights spent hating Major Brown for what he’d done to them all and plotting his demise.

  It had taken a stern talking-to from Lala to drag her out of her funk. It was only then she could begin to heal and take a real interest in the camp and its people. That was the moment her vague plans for escape and seeking help solidified into something real. And it was happening tonight. Finally.

  “I’m really okay, Lala. I haven’t been mooning up in the watchtowers or wishing I could die, I promise. I miss Johnson and Julia. Alvarez and Grumps. I wish they were here, but I’m fine.”

  Lala nodded, raising one hand to cup Chas’ face. “Oh, hun. You’re so young to have lost so much. You all are, and I’m sorry for it.”

  “It’s not your fault,” Chas said.

  “I know, but that doesn’t mean I wish differently for you.” Lala planted a kiss on Chas’ forehead. “Now, get some sleep. I’m sure you’ll feel better in the morning. We’re in this together.”

  Chas nodded. “Together, Lala. Goodnight.”

  “Goodnight, hun. Sleep tight,” Lala said as Chas crawled into bed, pulling the cover to her chin.

  Lala blew out the candle, dumping the tent into darkness, and Chas stared ahead as memories of Johnson’s death washed over her, revived by Lala’s words. It was something she tried not to think about. Not anymore, but now she couldn’t help it. Even as she drifted off to sleep, the nightmare sank its claws into her brain, dragging her under.

  ***

  Chas scrambled down the waiting ladder and pulled her 9mm from its holster. Taking a solid stance, she fired at the closest infected. The zombie tumbled headfirst to the ground in a tangle of undead limbs.

  Spotlights lit the area in a bright yellow glow, rendering the night surreal, and shouts echoed all around her. Soldiers ran toward her, chased by a horde of flesh-eating monsters that were gaining on them with each second that passed.

  Chas took down as many as she could, joined by her friends. A couple of soldiers reached the infirmary and also took a stand next to Chas and her group. Together, they laid down a withering wall of fire, dropping several zombies and giving more of the fleeing soldiers a chance to get to safety. In a steady trickle, they reached the building, some scrambling to the roof while others stood firm, adding their bullets to the constant barrage.

  The entire time, Chas looked for Johnson, hoping against hope that he hadn’t fallen. Then she spotted his tall frame, dragging an in
jured comrade across the open field as fast as he could, which wasn’t fast enough. He was the last in line and had probably stayed behind to make sure everybody else got out first.

  “Hurry up, Johnson,” Chas cried as the last of the soldiers streamed past, hightailing it up the ladder as fast as they could go.

  One by one, those who stood with them on the ground also climbed up to the roof until it was only Chas and her group still standing on the ground. From the top of the building, several soldiers began to lay down cover fire for Johnson, adding their cries of encouragement to Chas’.

  “Move it, Johnson.”

  “Come on, Johnson. Surely, Texans can run faster than that.”

  With their help, Johnson gained a small lead as many of the zombies fell to the wall of bullets coming their way. Emily grabbed Chas by the hand. “Get onto the roof, Chas. Now!”

  Chas shook her head. “No! Not until Johnson gets here.”

  “He’s going to make it, Chas. Come on,” Vanessa cried.

  With reluctance, Chas allowed her friends to coax her to the ladder. Up they went until it was just her. She turned for a last quick look and was gladdened to see Johnson had almost reached them. Lengthening his strides, Johnson dragged his fellow soldier the last few yards, closing the distance. He’ll make it.

  She was about to climb the ladder when the unthinkable happened. Johnson’s foot came down on the ground and twisted. Even at that distance, Chas could hear the pop of the bone as his ankle broke. Head over heels, the tall Texan tumbled to the ground, dropping the injured soldier as well. They rolled across the packed earth until they came to a standstill not far from Chas.

  “Johnson!” Chas cried, turning around to run to his aid. Strong hands grabbed her by the arms, and she was hauled up onto the roof of the infirmary kicking and screaming every inch of the way.

  An infected howled as it caught up to Johnson and jumped onto his back. Rolling onto his side, Johnson tried to fight off the infected, kicking out with his good foot. He seemed to gain a little ground, but even as Chas watched, another zombie reached him. In front of her horrified eyes, the second infected bit into Johnson’s throat, turning his bellowing voice into a gurgling mumble.

  “No,” Chas sobbed, falling to her knees as she watched her friend die mere feet from safety, his struggles becoming weak before he grew still. “No, Johnson.”

  Why? Why him?

  The man he’d carried to safety crawled to his knees and tried to make a run for it, chased by three more zombies. His fellow soldiers managed to shoot them down, and he reached the safety of the ladder. As they hauled him up, Chas caught a brief glimpse of messy black hair and frightened blue eyes. He was young, scarcely more than a boy.

  Hands grabbed Chas once more, and she was pulled back off the roof of the infirmary. The rest followed, the howling and screeching of the infected now audible as they reached the barrier formed by the infirmary and bashed their fists against the walls.

  Once they’d reached a safe distance, Chas stopped fighting the pull of her friends and watched with numb horror as Mathews blew the explosives, collapsing the building inward and permanently sealing all the doorways and windows. Within seconds, Galway and her crew were there, shoring up the mess with metal containers on forklifts until it formed a solid wall. The lower base was now gone, abandoned, and they were sealed into their new home.

  Their new home?

  Or a tomb?

  Chapter 5

  A soft hand woke Chas from her slumber, and she sat upright with a gasp. For a few seconds, she didn’t know where she was, surrounded by darkness and the remnants of the nightmare that was slow to release its hold on her.

  “Shh, Chas, be quiet. Don’t wake, Lala.” Vanessa’s low whisper penetrated the fog around her, and Chas froze in place with a hand pressed to her lips.

  After a few seconds, she heard soft snores coming from Lala’s bunk and relaxed. Phew. “That was close.”

  “I know,” Vanessa said. “Come on. It’s time to go.”

  Chas quickly but silently slid off her bunk, navigating by the faint moonlight to find her way. She slipped into a pair of clean sports underwear, jeans, cotton socks, hiking boots, a vest, long-sleeved shirt, and a utility jacket. Around her hips went her belt, complete with her knife in its sheath. All while keeping a careful eye on Lala.

  She braided her hair until the long tail streamed down her back and washed her face and hands with a damp cloth. With deft moves, she plumped her cushions up underneath the duvet until it resembled her sleeping figure before turning to Vanessa. “Ready?”

  “Ready.”

  Together, they slipped outside into the cool night air and paused. Around them, the camp rested in hushed silence, an occasional muffled groan or snore the only sounds besides the rustle of nocturnal animals and birds.

  On silent feet, they crossed the distance to a nearby clump of bushes, the leaves thick and covered in spiny thorns. With care, Chas extracted their backpacks, packed and hidden there the day before already. They were soon joined by Emily and Dean as each escaped from the confines of their own tents, and Chas appraised them in the silver moonlight. “Hey, guys. Glad you could make it.”

  “Hi,” Emily said, looking alert and ready for an outdoors adventure with her hair tied into a ponytail, a rubber band holding her glasses in place, and a practical canvas jacket covering her torso over a pair of tights and boots.

  “Howdy,” Dean whispered, tipping an imaginary hat at them. He looked rough but ready, his hair a mess but his jaws clean shaven and his clothes practical and sturdy. Jeans, boots, long-sleeved shirt, and a quilted gilet that zipped to the chin.

  Chas handed them their backpacks before throwing a sideways look at Vanessa. She was dressed in a similar fashion as Chas, and she’d gelled her short bob back into a slick style that suited her full lips and high cheekbones. With her tall, slender figure encased in tight jeans and a leather jacket, she made quite the impression, and Chas couldn’t help the twinge of jealousy that shot through her. Damn. It’s the apocalypse, and she still looks like a model. A poster child for good genes and a fast metabolism.

  Vanessa flashed her a grin, almost as if she could read Chas’ thoughts. “Looking good, Chas.”

  “Thanks,” Chas mumbled, feeling bad for her moment of jealousy.

  “Yeah, you girls look tough. Like Lara Croft style. Glad you’re on my side,” Dean quipped with a dimpled smile.

  Emily rolled her eyes. “Come on, Romeo. Time to find out if the laxatives did their job.”

  With their backpacks in place, the four picked their way off the mountain until they reached the first watchtower. There they paused behind a clump of boulders, and Chas pulled a pair of night-vision goggles from her pack.

  It had been almost impossible to steal the pair, and she nearly got caught by Lieutenant Steele, but she knew they’d be invaluable…and they were. She could easily make out the figure of Mathews up in the tower, leaning over the handrail.

  “What’s he doing?” Vanessa asked.

  “I don’t know. He’s leaning forward,” Chas replied. In the silence that followed, a loud groan drifted across the distance. “Is that…Mathews?”

  She looked at him again, and now he was hurrying down the steps of the tower clutching his stomach. More groans came their way, louder and louder until Mathews exploded into the night and dove for the nearest bushes.

  “I think that’s our signal,” Emily whispered.

  As one, the little group ran past the tower until they reached the second. That one was empty already, the guard off emptying his bowels somewhere. With care, they snuck past and jogged along the barrier separating them from the zombies outside.

  It was eerie.

  No…more than eerie.

  Terrifying.

  Nervous tremors wracked Chas as she ran beside the piled containers and earth that was all that kept the undead at bay. In the dark of night, each groan and moan, every shuffle of clumsy feet carried in the
cool air, melding into a symphony of longing for flesh. The single-minded need to eat and consume flesh. The fresher, the better.

  When she closed her eyes, she could still picture them. A sea of gray. Gray skin, gray hair, gray eyes, and gray clothes. All melding into one being as death consumed them, leaching the color from their bodies while the sun and rain did the rest.

  Chas wondered if the whole world looked like that now. An ocean of gray, color forever banished from the world, existing only in pockets until the dead eradicated that too.

  And the smell.

  Would she ever live to see a time when that stench didn’t haunt her every dream? That peculiar mixture of blood, old and new, urine and feces, rotting flesh and slimy innards, bile and vomit.

  Even over the height of the wall it clogged her nose and filled her mouth until she could taste the rot. Not even the camp was free from it, not when the wind blew in that direction. It wasn’t unheard of for people to collapse, unable to handle the assault on their senses. Perfumed handkerchiefs and pots of camphor became all the rage, handed out to those most afflicted.

  Gritting her teeth to prevent herself from gagging, Chas focused on the water plant, its squat silhouette looming in the distance. As they drew near, they slowed until they reached their next goal: A pile of debris lying against the wall.

  Dean fell to his knees, and after scrabbling in the dirt, he produced a carefully wrapped package. It contained the air mattress that would form their raft, a waterproof bag for their equipment, a length of parachute cord, wire-cutters, and extra wire.

  “This is it,” Dean said.

  “Good. Let’s look for the guards. They have to be around here somewhere, and we’d best not run into them,” Chas said.

  “Cool,” Dean said, shouldering the extra burden with ease.

  With careful steps, they moved closer to the building, their eyes peeled for trouble. With the night-vision goggles, Chas swept across the grounds until she found them squatting in the grass. “Over there.”