The Ugly Beginning - 01

by T. W. Brown

  Jenifer would not watch as Liza was tossed down the slide. And, even though she could hear the screams, she would not listen. Instead, her mind focused on the moans of the dead gathered against the hastily built barricades that kept this area of the once fantastic resort free from roamers.

  Glancing skyward, she could see a smudge on the eastern horizon. Perhaps the rumor was true; a hurricane was bearing down on their island. She dared to offer up a prayer that it would hit them with everything it had. That way, when she pulled open the service gate near the living quarters, it was unlikely that she would be discovered. Even better…she may actually have a chance at escape.

  ***

  Thad stared out the window of his room and tried to admire the beautiful California sunshine. If it weren’t for the sea of undead that stretched out for hundreds of yards in every direction, it would actually be a beautiful day.

  “Come back to bed,” a sleep-slurred voice purred from behind him.

  “There’s more and more every day, Bridgette.” Thad let the curtain flutter back into place and turned around.

  They thought they’d been so clever; the parking lot full of cars wedged in like a Tetris puzzle. The hills leading up to the plateau that their hotel rested upon was strung with rows of razor wire. Only, those things didn’t care about any of that. They were oblivious as flesh was torn away. Eventually they were able to free themselves and inch closer.

  When that mob of several thousand converged, there was nothing they could do. Sure, they’d torched a bunch, but the ones behind the first wave just kept coming and eventually, smothered the flames with their numbers. The ones trampled underfoot actually made their way under the parked cars. Hundreds of heads now poked up from between the cars. More continued to make their way on top of the cars. And nobody would say it, but it looked like those damned things are learning!

  Thad remembered the first time he realized the horror of the possibility that something in those undead minds must in fact be functioning in at least some primitive way. He watched a young girl that had been no more than ten when something had eaten off the side of her face and burrowed into her stomach. She stood at the edge of the cars just swaying back and forth. Then, one of the zombies beside her toppled and fell. She stepped onto her fallen comrade and then just tipped over, sprawling on the hood of the car she’d stood in front of for countless hours apparently waiting for just such an event. Then, she stepped to the edge of the car’s hood and paused. He remembered waiting to see her stumble into the gap between her current and the next vehicle. Instead, she toppled forward, sprawling on the next car’s trunk! Two days later, she was halfway across the sea of parked cars. Obviously somebody else noticed, because a shot rang out from a few floors below him. She toppled back and vanished as a bullet blew out the back of her skull.

  Nobody wanted to admit it, but others had since come across the cars in the same manner. Some were shot, but as the numbers grew exponentially, none of the snipers kept up with the task for a couple of reasons. First, it was becoming clear that it was as pointless as spitting in the ocean. Second, fallen bodies acted as bridges.

  Thad glanced at his watch. Sitting at the foot of the bed, he reached down for his balled up socks and began to dress.

  “Do you have to go?” Bridgette sat up and slunk over behind him, wrapping her arms around his waist, resting her cheek on his left shoulder.

  “Yep,” Thad tried to hide his boredom.

  “Why do you always get these jobs?” she said in her annoying baby-doll voice that she thought was cute, but actually made his skin crawl.

  “Because it allows me choice of rooms, pick of the haul, and lets me get a look around,” Thad stopped trying to hide his annoyance.

  “What’s to look at better than this?” Bridgette rose up on her knees and turned his head with one hand.

  Thad’s eyes drifted from her pretty oval face framed by thick, chestnut-brown hair, and eyes the color of amber. He paused at her round breasts with perfect pink nipples and unconsciously licked his lips. Down to her perfectly curved waist that seemed built just to fit his hands. Further down, and he felt something stir down below at the sight of her smoothly shaved—

  “Well?” her voice brought his eyes back to hers.

  “Huh?”

  “I said, it’s about time you told that militant bitch to find a new gopher. Every shit job that comes up seems to get your name attached to it. It’s almost like she is trying to get you killed, and every single time, you just nod and do what she asks. You might be fucking me, but she sure as hell seems to be fucking you,” Bridgette said with uncharacteristic anger.

  “And she can think that as long as she wants.” Thad stood, pulling on his pants and buttoning them. “All the way up to the point when I am ready.”

  “Ready for what? How come you won’t tell me anything about this plan?” Bridgett crossed her arms across her breasts and gave an over exaggerated pout. “Don’t you trust me?”

  “Explicitly, pet,” Thad said, and kissed her right on that jutting lower lip. “But my experience is that women love to gossip. You could let out one sliver of information by total accident…and that would put an end to my little scheme in a hurry.”

  Not waiting for a retort or further questions, he turned and headed out, grabbing his leather jacket from the chair next to the door on the way. JoJo was at the end of the hall waiting with two packs and their weapon belts.

  “Long blades?” Thad asked as he cinched the belt he’d been handed.

  “Keith has ‘em downstairs.” JoJo cocked his head towards the doorway. “He’s already at the exit hall waiting for us.”

  “Dinah down there, too?” Thad asked.

  JoJo smiled. “She’ll be there to lock the door when we leave, and watch Doc check us head-to-toe when we get back. She’ll be the one to pop a round in our skull if we have so much as a scratch.”

  “Yeah, well this is the last trip,” Thad scoffed.

  “You think we’ll have it ready?”

  “I’m positive.”

  “You slipped out again last night, didn’t you?” JoJo scowled. This was the third time—that he knew of—where Thad left the hotel on his own to tend to their “project.”

  “Yep.” Thad smiled slyly. “Slipped two of those pills you gave me in Bridgette’s drink. Fucked her to sleep, and was in and out before she came to.”

  They reached the landing of the ground floor. Thad put a hand on JoJo’s shoulder. “We finish on this run and leave tonight. And I’m not taking Bridgette.”

  “Still don’t trust her?”

  “Never did, never will. Ever since I found that cigarette butt on my balcony…I’m positive this is some sort of arrangement for Dinah to keep tabs on me.”

  “It’s your piece of pussy, man. You wanna ditch it, that’s on you,” JoJo sighed. “Pro’bly ain’t much to spare out there. Mother fucker just wants to cast his off like it ain’t no big deal!”

  “I’ll always have you.” Thad patted the man on his broad shoulders.

  “Sick bastard,” JoJo snorted and pushed open the door.

  Keith was leaning against a metal door that would lead outside. As expected, Dinah was also there with two guys Thad recognized, but didn’t know by name. Both held shotguns on their hips like they were posing for some demented NRA poster.

  “You’re late,” Dinah snapped.

  “Got stuck in traffic,” Thad dismissed her with a wave of his hand. “Besides, it ain’t like those crates are gonna go anywhere.”

  “Unless somebody else finds them,” Dinah growled.

  “Yeah, ‘cause we’ve seen lots of live folks just wandering around lately,” JoJo whispered not quite under his breath.

  Keith snorted and quickly tried to pretend he was inspecting one of the three swords he had under his arm. Thad laughed out loud making no effort to hide his contempt.

  Dinah glared at Thad for a moment. Then, as if realizing that she was clearly showing that he’d gott
en to her, she gained her composure and resumed her normal outward expression of cold authority.

  “Be at this door by sunset,” she said as she unlocked the big padlock that kept the additional precaution of a heavy chain secured tightly.

  “Or?” JoJo spoke up as he buckled his shoulder scabbard and slid the long blade in its place.

  “Or you figure out how to survive until sunrise the next day,” Dinah snapped. “I will not have lights down on the ground floor after dark. Those things seem to be able to home in on even the briefest hint of light, and if they start clustering around this door, well…”

  “Then you’d all be trapped inside and die slowly of hunger and dehydration.” Keith handed Thad his sword now that he’d strapped on all his belts and the shoulder scabbard.

  Dinah’s expression flickered on the edge of anger again. She hated letting these two-bit, petty criminals get to her. As a police officer, she’d gotten accustomed to the last word…her tenure as leader of this band of survivors was in jeopardy as of late. Three of her ten section leaders—the individuals that she placed in charge of each of the floors they currently lived on— had challenged her right to be the person of authority at the last community meeting.

  Dinah knew that order and discipline was the key to survival now. For the first several weeks, nobody questioned a single decision she’d made. Now it seemed as if the shock was wearing off. People were beginning to call for votes on some of her rules or plans. And these three men were probably the worst agitators. She’d thought often of how ironic it was that three of her most frequent collars were now cohabitants.

  All three were homeless vagrants with multiple arrests. Now that the world had fallen apart, they were all living much more luxuriously than they had before this unimaginable catastrophe. She’d decided early on that these three were her most expend-able asset.

  However, she knew that she would need to dangle a carrot. So, one by one, she’d struck a bargain with the miscreant trio. A choice of living quarters and permission to claim certain “luxuries” they would acquire on their foraging runs. It was no surprise that booze was the luxury of choice, along with—and she marveled at their uncanny ability to locate—an impressive quantity of marijuana. Still, if that was all it took to keep those three subjugated, it was a small price.

  Lately, they’d stopped hiding their antagonistic attitude towards her. Worse, they were beginning to affect the other residents. She’d considered kicking them out. Only, now that the dead had converged in such great numbers on their location, nobody but those three would venture out.

  When they began losing at least one person per foraging mission, the volunteer pool dried up. And just like any puddle, all that was left was the scum at the bottom. As much as she hated to admit it, and she never would out loud, she needed these three.

  “Ahem.” Keith shouldered past, snapping her reverie.

  “Just be at the door by sunset.” Dinah spun on her heel and walked away clinging to the empty satisfaction of having the final word.

  “Bitch!” JoJo called as the door slammed shut and the rattling sounds of the chains being replaced turned a few heads in their direction.

  ***

  A lone figure sat on the roof of a visibly well-looted 7-11. Below him, swarms of the undead milled about, heedless of his presence. He popped the cap on the last Mountain Dew and took a long drink. The lukewarm fluid seemed almost tasteless after the entire package of cookies he’d just eaten.

  The pressure in his gut built fast and he had to press his lips together tightly and cover his mouth so as not to belch loudly and attract attention. Sitting where he was, he could see his next destination: Jim’s Outdoor Supply.

  Surveying the building from this distance of only three blocks, the place looked remarkably untouched. This was his greatest stroke of luck in days. Glancing at his hand, he frowned. Well, he mused, if I don’t count this. He flexed his hand for emphasis. The indents and bruising where he’d been bitten still hurt a bit. He was certain that every time he dozed off would be his last time as a member of the living; but day after day for the past week…nothing.

  Cary stood up, careful to ensure he was out of sight of the mob. He dug a golf ball from his pocket and sought his target. Across the street and two buildings over would do perfectly: Ann’s Doll Emporium.

  Seriously?

  “Sorry, Ann.” Cary took aim and threw hard. The huge picture window, painted with big Ragged Ann and Andy dolls in each lower corner, shattered. The noise was incredible compared to the recent relative silence.

  Bodies turned and moved towards this new distraction. The backside of the store’s parking lot was mostly clear. It wasn’t likely to get much better. Three blocks would seem like three miles, but he had to try. Cary lowered himself and dropped to the ground. Two zombies were already shambling his way.

  12

  Geeks, Girls, and Guns

  Kevin walked up to the dilapidated Ford Escort that sat alone in what seemed to be an endless parking lot that stretched off into the horizon in every direction. He peered in the driver’s side window.

  Empty.

  Turning, he leaned against the door and took a deep breath that he hadn’t realized he’d been holding. Never having been a smoker, Kevin suddenly wished he could fish a cigarette from his shirt pocket and light up. It always looked as if folks who did such things in movies and on television found some sort of peace.

  A dull thud made him jump. Kevin spun and staggered back a few steps at what he saw. Cary stared back at him through the driver’s side window. But that was impossible. He’d just looked in and seen the car was empty. Seriously, there was really no place to hide a body in such a small space.

  A hand came up to the window and pawed in futility. Kevin stared into the milky, black-bloodshot eyes of the undead caricature of the man who had once been his friend.

  “I’m sorry, Cary,” he whispered.

  Pulling his nine millimeter from its holster, he lined up the shot. It wouldn’t be right to leave Cary like that; trapped in a beat up Ford Escort as a zombie. He wrapped his finger around the trigger. As he started to squeeze, his arm began to tremble. The slight tremor quickly changed to violent shaking. He dropped his arm with a cry of sorrow and frustration. Zombie or not, Kevin couldn’t reconcile the thought of putting a bullet through Cary’s head.

  “I’m sorry,” Kevin cried. “I’m sorry.”

  Cary’s face pulled back from the glass. His hand pressed firmly like he was trying to pop the window out. Then, with a speed unlike anything Kevin had seen from any zombie, Cary’s head shot forward exploding through the glass.

  “Kill me!” Cary’s zombie screamed.

  Kevin sat bolt upright. Searching frantically, it took him a few seconds to remember where he was. They had pulled into a rest area about five miles east of a town called Zanesville. After a thorough walk-through, it was decided that this was not a bad place to stop for the night. It was remote, and they hadn’t seen a zombie or any sign of movement—living or dead—in almost a half hour.

  The surrounding countryside was relatively flat, and the biggest obstruction was the concrete building that housed men’s and women’s bathrooms. This allowed everybody the luxury of an actual toilet…minus the running water. Still, it was better than a bush.

  After they parked and everyone climbed out to stretch their legs, Mike and Darrin did a search to make sure the bathrooms—as well as the handful of abandoned cars—were empty of surprises. Once the “all clear” was given, the senator and her daughters quickly vanished into the bathroom.

  Senator Angela Bergman. While she was certainly a big deal, it was actually the daughter, Shari, who he had recognized but couldn’t recall where from. That was because he wasn’t into bubblegum-pop music. Shari Bergman was the flavor-of-the-week in the Top-40 music scene. Only, in the past month, the big scandal involved Erin, her fourteen-year-old sister. Little Erin Bergman was pregnant by Shari’s manager. The tabloid shows and
magazines shifted into sleaze-journalism overdrive. Additionaly, the big cable news networks—not much better than the tabloids in Kevin’s opinion—had been in an absolute tizzy.

  Now, Senator Bergman was simply Angela, and her daughters were three frightened girls thankful to be alive. The four currently slept atop the roof of the bathrooms. Kevin, Mike, and Darrin took turns on watch. Kevin exiled himself to the U-Haul’s cab when it was his turn to catch some zees.

  Taking a few deep, steadying breaths, he scooped up his gun and holster along with a sturdy hand-axe that he kept in a loop on his belt. Climbing out of the truck, he waved to Mike who sat on the rear bumper of Darrin’s recently accquired firetruck. Mike raised a hand in acknowledgement.

  Walking across the moonlit parking area, Kevin marvelled at the quiet. It was simply amazing. Also a bit unsettling as each footstep seemed amplified and even the sound of his own breathing carried on the cool evening breeze. As he reached the rear of the firetruck, a tremor of anxiety rippled through him and settled in the pit of his stomach. While Mike had at least been cordial, Darrin still spoke to him only when it was necessary.

  “Drink?” Mike offered a brown bag containing a bottle.

  Kevin accepted, then stopped suddenly as a familiar smell invaded his nostrils. “Is this…?”

  “Schnaps.” Mike nodded and smiled wide enough for it to show even in the shadows.

  “Where on earth did you find it?” Kevin asked. “I mean, all the booze was in the back of the El Camino.”

  “Not all. I had a pint under my seat. I pulled it out when I thought the windshield was gonna burst. When things began to look like I might actually live,” Mike shrugged, “I tucked it in my pocket.”