by Rachel Aukes
A bigger kid grabbed at my arm, and I nearly flew off the bike. It took me awhile to get my feet back on the pedals, and I kept pumping. One of my training wheels was wobbly after that and squeaked every time I leaned too far over.
After three blocks, I was finally putting distance between all the people in my neighborhood but new ones kept showing up from behind houses and cars. I had to swerve around sick people and crashed cars. The wobbly training wheel fell off, and I had to lean on the other wheel to keep from falling over.
My legs burned, but I kept pedaling. My chest hurt and I couldn’t get enough air, but I kept pedaling. Sweat burned my eyes and kept making my glasses slide down my nose, but I never slowed down. I rode away from all the sick people until the houses started to spread out and fewer cars sat on the road. But, I didn’t feel any safer until I passed the Wal-Mart on the edge of town. I finally slowed my pedaling when I passed the sign Thank you for visiting Fox Hills, Midwest’s Hidden Gem.
This was the way to Grampa’s house. I slowed down, but I didn’t stop. I rode until the sun climbed all the way up into the sky. My other training wheel was getting wobbly. I kept hoping to see Grampa’s truck, but I never saw anyone else on the road.
I gritted against the hurt inside and kept pedaling. I’d ride all the way to his house if I had to.
I was so thirsty. Hungry, too, but my stomach didn’t hurt as much as my chest and legs. Both felt like I’d walked through fire, they burned so much. But I was afraid if I stopped, I’d never be able to get going again. And I’d never get to Grampa’s house if I stopped.
I saw two sick people in a parked car not far from town. After that, I didn’t see anyone, sick or otherwise.
My bike slid on loose gravel, and my other training wheel flew off. The bike tipped over. I was too tired to jump out of the way, and I cried out when my knee hit the hard pavement. Hissing through my teeth, I pulled myself out from under the bike and sat on my butt. I took off my glasses, wiped the sweat—and maybe a tear or two—from my eyes, and pushed my glasses back on. Sniffling, I picked out pebbles from my bleeding knee. It really, really hurt.
Mom would definitely put a band-aid on this. I hope I don’t bleed to death.
After several minutes of watching my knee bleed and looking for sick people, I pushed myself to my feet. It was really hard because my knee throbbed, and my legs felt like they didn’t have bones in them anymore. But I managed to get to my feet, and I started limping down the road. It was three hours to Grampa’s house. I rode way longer than that already, so I should be there soon.
Walking was easier than riding, but it was slow. I don’t know how many hours I walked, but the sun had gotten to get low in the sky, and my wet clothes were making me shiver. My mouth was dry and my head was starting to really hurt. I watched my feet drag over the pavement with every step. Fifty-two, fifty-three. Every time I hit one hundred, I started over because it was hard to think straight.
A loud engine sound made me lose count and I looked up. A long ways down the road were bright headlights heading right toward me.
As it drew closer, I saw it was a big green truck, with a man standing behind a big something on the back of the truck. I smiled and waved my hand. Maybe he’d seen Grampa!
“Zed! Ten o’clock!” the man shouted from the back of the truck.
“Hold your fire!” another man yelled as he ran around the front of the truck and toward me.
He was holding a gun, too, and it was a lot bigger than Mom’s. He slowed as he approached as he looked me up and down. He was wearing green, just like the color of the truck.
“Hi,” I said and rubbed my sore throat.
The turned back to his friends. “He’s okay. He’s not infected.”
The man came down on a knee and held out an opened bottle of water. I grabbed it with more speed than I thought I could muster and chugged the water, though I spilled some by accident.
The man gave me a nice smile and handed me a candy bar. I liked him already.
“You’re safe now,” he said. “I’m Captain Tyler Masden with the National Guard at Camp Fox. You can call me Tyler.”
He held out his hand, and I gave him my empty bottle.
“My name is Benji Hennessey, and I live at One-Fourteen Maple Street,” I said as I tore into the candy bar, and then added, “But my mom got sick, so I had to leave.”
Tyler gave a sad nod. “Sorry to hear that. There are a lot of people getting…sick lately.” After a moment, he frowned. “How’d you get to be all the way out here?”
“I rode my bike, but then it broke, so then I walked.”
Tyler whistled. “That’s impressive. I bet you could use a ride.”
“Yeah,” I said with an eager nod and quickly added, “I have to find Grampa.”
“And where’s he?” Tyler asked.
“That way.” I pointed. “Grampa lives three hours from my house.”
“Three hours? That’s an awfully long ways. It’s getting late. How about I take you to Camp Fox for the night? There are no sick people there. How’s that sound, Benji?”
“That sounds nice, but I can’t,” I replied. “I have to find Grampa. He’s looking for me.”
Tyler’s lips tightened but he didn’t seem angry. “Well, we’d better see if we can find him. Do you know your grandfather’s phone number?”
“Two.”
“Is that all?”
I frowned and then smacked my head. “Oh, no. You have to hit the tic-tac-toe button first.”
Tyler smirked. “Well, maybe we’ll try to find him another way.”
“Hey, Maz, You’re not going to believe this,” the man said from the back of the truck. “The Camp reported that Lee’s squad brought in a guy with the same last name a few hours ago. He said he was on his way to pick up his grandson named Benji, but he’d had a car accident on the way.”
Tyler reached out his hand. “How about we get you to your grandfather, Benji?”
I put my hand into his and smiled. “I’d like that very much. It’s been a bad day.”
CDC Case Definition: Zombiism
Zombiism (Marburgvirus Zonbistis)
2013 Case Definition
CSTE Position Statement
19-ID-52
Clinical Description
Zonbistis is transmitted to humans by direct exposure to infected tissues. The disease is characterized by clinical death, congealed blood, jaundice, stiff gait, insatiable hunger, and severe violent propensities. Infected hosts display minimal brain functioning. To promote transmission, Zonbistis enhances activity in the hypothalamus, thus increasing the host’s appetite and likelihood of biting, although the infected have shown less interest in eating, and the underlying reason has yet to be determined. The virus has proven extremely resilient and virulent, continually replenishing itself within its host. Only severe trauma to the host’s brain stem or destruction of the virus through fire is believed to eradicate the virus in the host.
If exposed to the virus, infection rate is 99.998%. There is no known cure. Upon initial infection, Zonbistis will take over its host anywhere from seven minutes to three hours, depending on severity of initial infection, level of injuries, and the host’s physical condition. At the point of the host’s clinical death, the virus is considered to have taken over.
When first contracted, initial symptoms include acute or insidious onset of fever and one or more of the following: headache, sweating, diplopia, blurred vision, bulbar weakness, hypoxia and/or dyspnea, nausea, vomiting, and shock.
Laboratory Criteria for Diagnosis
Detection of Zonbistis spp. in clinical specimen or isolation of Zonbistis spp. from wound or ingestion.
Case Classification
Suspected: Symptoms suggestive of Zonbistis.
Probable: A clinically compatible case with presumptive laboratory results.
Confirmed: A clinically compatible case with confirmatory laboratory results.
Comments
&n
bsp; The virus is believed to have originated in a genetically modified pesticide undergoing testing in Brazil. When the pesticide was combined with an organic cleaning agent, the silica-coated cells of the pesticide were shown to have mutated into Zonbistis.
Also by Rachel Aukes
The Deadland Saga
100 Days in Deadland
Deadland’s Harvest
Deadland Rising
Short Stories in the Deadland World
Fat Zombie
At Hell’s Gates
Colliding Worlds Trilogy
Collision
Implosion
Explosion
Guardians of the Seven Seals
Knightfall
Hellbound
Other Fiction
Never Fear
Stealing Fate
Tales from the SFR Brigade, Vol. 1
Stories on the Go
About the Author
Rachel Aukes lives in Iowa with her husband and an incredibly spoiled sixty-pound lap dog. When not writing, she can be found flying old airplanes and trying (not so successfully) to prepare for the zombie apocalypse. Connect with Rachel at www.RachelAukes.com
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Table of Contents
100 Days in Deadland
Deadland’s Harvest
Deadland Rising
“Cracked”
“Perfect”
100 DAYS IN DEADLAND
Limbo (Ch. 1-4)
Lust (Ch. 5)
Hunger (Ch. 6)
Greed (Ch. 7)
Wrath (Ch. 8)
Arrogance (Ch. 9-11)
Violence (Ch. 12-17)
Malice (Ch. 18-30)
Betrayal (Ch. 31-34)
DEADLAND’S HARVEST
Purgatory (Ch. 1-9)
Pride (Ch. 10-12)
Envy (Ch. 13-14)
Wrath (Ch. 15-16)
Sloth (Ch. 17-18)
Greed (Ch. 19-21)
Gluttony (Ch. 22-24)
Lust (Ch. 25-27)
New Eden (Ch. 28-33)
DEADLAND RISING
Uncertainty (Ch. I - V)
Ambition (Ch. VI - VII)
Temptation (Ch. VIII - IX)
Prudence (Ch. X - XIII)
Fortitude (Ch. XIV – XVII)
Justice (Ch. XVIII - XX)
Temperance (Ch. XXI)
Hope (Ch. XXII - XXVI)
Courage (Ch. XXVII - XXIX)
Redemption (Ch. XXX - XXXIII)
Cracked
Perfect
CDC Case Definition: Zombiism
Also by Rachel Aukes
About the Author
