Zombieclypse (Book 1): Dead Quarantine

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by A. Rosaria


  “Stop the car,” he said. She skidded to a halt. “How well do you know this place?”

  “My father used to take me here for hiking, a long time ago.”

  He knew that her father had died five years ago in some freak accident. It was on the news, but he didn't know much more about it.

  “Why are they chasing us?” she said, hitting the steering wheel. “Haven't we suffered enough?” She put her shaking hands over her eyes.

  They couldn't stay here for long; each minute brought the soldiers closer to them. He pulled her hands from her face. “Do you know a place with a steep incline?”

  Dazed, she looked at him. “Yeah...yeah I think so. It's just a way off before we clear the forest.”

  Behind them, far or close he didn't know, a branch snapped.

  “Drive, I'll tell you on the way. Put the lights on, I don't want them to miss us.”

  He crawled in the back of the car and searched for a gas can. He found one, tucked to the side in a side strap. He wiggled it. A fifth full. It would have to do. He poured the gasoline over the back. He upturned the ammo boxes, spreading the shells and bullets around. He pocketed about ten shells. He couldn't waste them all. He pressed the car lighter in, gathered all paper he could find, and put them in a heap.

  “When you get near the incline, slow down and drive into it. Before the car falls in, jump out. I'll do the same after I light everything up.”

  “Are you insane?”

  “It's the only way we are going to get rid of them.”

  “We are almost there.”

  “Just do it, okay?”

  She said nothing, though she held the door handle and started slowing down. The car lighter popped out. He took it, the tip glowing hot. He held the lighter in one hand and the shotgun in the other. His hammer was secured in between his belt. He remembered his gun; he had forgotten to take it. She yelled for him to get out. He pushed the back door open. She jumped out from her side. He threw the lighter on the paper. The gas caught on fire and the paper started burning. Ralph pushed himself out the back and fell down, rolling on the ground while the truck flew down the precipice and crashed with a loud bang. His body ached from the fall; he would be heavily bruised by the day's end. Quick footsteps. Hands grabbed him and pulled him up.

  “We need to move,” Sarah said.

  Arms around each others’ backs, they ran for the cover of the trees. They let go of each other and kept running away from the dirt road. The helicopters hovered above where the truck had crashed. Sarah was slowing down, getting winded. Ralph grabbed her hand and egged her to keep up the speed. It was only when he started hearing the ammo going off that he pulled her down behind a thick, fallen tree. Resting their backs, they breathed laboriously, exhausted, but not done yet.

  “That was close,” Ralph said. “We got away for now.”

  “That was insane.”

  She had a twinkle in her eyes when she said that. However insane it was, it had worked, but they had to put more distance between them and the soldiers or find a hiding spot.

  “Any caves nearby?”

  “Yes, there used to be mines not far from here, though I have no idea where. I just know they have to be near the hill.”

  He stood up and helped her up. “Guess there is no other choice than to keep running.”

  Soon after, they were too winded to run. They must have run three miles by now. The sound of the rotors was now faint. Ralph looked around. There was not much to see in the dark; they had risked limb and neck running blindly through the forest, but they managed doing so with little injury. For now, they would walk until they caught their breath again.

  “We keep going this way we'll be near the base of the hill,” Sarah said.

  By all means, it was not a small hill, but a peak of more than two thousand feet.

  After a half-hour walk, they reached the base, the vegetation had subsided and they could see the sky again. It was clear and with a big moon shining. In the moonlight, he saw a few hundred feet up the hill, there was some kind of hole. The moonlight could be tricky; they had to get closer to be sure.

  They climbed up; the slope wasn’t steep it and took them little time to get there. It was a shallow cave; however, it was the best shelter they could find on short notice. This high up, it gave them a vantage point to oversee the city—their dead city and the helicopters flying above it like flies on a corpse. They could also see the fire where they had intentionally crashed the truck. It was a bright spot at the border of the forest.

  “We made it,” Sarah said. She scratched her bandage. “For now that is.”

  The sat down at the entrance of the cave, watching the helicopters fly over the city, their light beams crossing each other. As their body eased from the exertion and started to cool, they huddled together to regain some warmth. He put an arm over her shoulder. There was a time not long ago he would have loved sitting like this with her. It was not bad, but he would trade it for sitting at the dining room table with his family. He held her tighter against him, and she nestled her head closer to him. She smelled nice. He sighed, if only things were different.

  Huddled like that, they watch the swarm of helicopters abruptly move away in unison. They sat up straight. Shortly after, a combat jet flew low and fast and dropped a bomb. It twirled in the air and hit the center of downtown. A big, white flash covered all. A sustained roar reached them. They fled deeper into the cave, pressing their back against the uneven stone wall. Ralph saw blotches of light in the dark, his eyes slowly adjusting back to normal sight. A dust cloud swept over the hill and forest, bending the trees away from the city. The roaring seemed to keep on and then suddenly it abated. They walked to the cave's opening. Where the city center stood, a huge mushroom cloud rose up in the sky. Dust crawled at its base. In a radius of some miles—where the buildings, their homes, school, the places they had spent their lives had stood—there was nothing but dust now. On the outskirts of the city, the buildings still stood, burning. The city had been destroyed. Sarah pulled him back inside.

  “They nuked it; the just went and nuke our city,” she said with eyes big as dishes.

  Ralph was similarly astonished. He saw no point. There had to be people alive in there, and those in the buildings at the far side of the city still might have some. But that close to the blast, the radiation would eventually kill them too. What about them? At about fifteen miles away from the city center, what about them? He would only know later if he ever grew old. They crept closer together.

  “Please hold me,” Sarah said.

  He faltered and then pulled her closer, pressing her against him.

  “What are we going to do now?” she asked.

  He could feel her tears on his chest.

  They made it out alive. They had escaped. Everything else they knew was gone, but a new world had opened for them—a nightmare world.

  “We'll do the only thing left for us to do—we'll survive.”

  The End

  Lauryn sat down on the road, tired—no not just tired, exhausted—and looked around her. An interstate was framed by barren land. As far as she could see, it stretched to the horizon. She had finally left behind the line of melted and blackened buses with the carbonated remains strewn about. Behind her, on its side, was the last bus in line, The only yellow remaining was on the back side. Far in the distance, a spec shambled forward, never stopping, never resting, never eating, drinking or breathing. It was her only companion for miles, a companion that would rather eat her than chat. She should have gone with Ralph, but at that time, she really thought she was dying and wanted to spare him the trouble.

  Lauryn stood again. Each step took more effort. The only solace she had was that, even exhausted, she was still faster than him, but not fast enough to outrun him, not strong enough to fight him. One step after another, she shambled forward. One day, she'd see Ralph’s face again and kiss those lips.

  Live on Ralph, live on, she thought, and someway she'd do the sam
e.

  Discover other titles by A.Rosaria at Smashwords.com:

  Novelette

  Soul Eviction

  Red Impish Demon

  Outcast (Maiden-at-Arms)

  Damnation (Maiden-at-Arms)

  Short Story

  Man-at-Arms

  What To Live For

  Zombie Scare

  Absentis

  Death’s Given Chance

  Ghost Worker

  CONTACT

  Author’s Blog

  Author’s Website

  Author’s Twitter

  Please continue for a preview of

  Ghost Worker

  Brian looked at his watch, an ostentatious thing his wife gave him for their fifth anniversary. He had fifteen minutes left on his break.

  He climbed the stairs – stairs much the same as any others anywhere. Stone grey steps, simple red railing for support, the walls bare of decoration, and the staircase in itself empty because most people preferred the elevator.

  He liked climbing and descending the stairs during his break. In his lone treks up and down he thought about the things bothering him; a new habit he“d developed after the big fight with Claire.

  Brian looked down the flight to the basement. He took a step down. It seemed darker here. He backed up to the ledge. A solid green door barred the entrance. Most probably locked.

  Time was ticking away and his break would soon be over. He looked up through the gap in between the stairs. A ways to go up to the fourteenth, but before he did there was something he had to do. He held his breath. It was time he apologized to Claire. Slowly he exhaled and fished his mobile out his pocket and dialed her number.

  After what seemed like minutes, the voicemail clicked on. He knew she was home. He dialed again and again. The third time she picked up. He heard her sob at the other side.

  “Have you not had enough already?” she said, her otherwise sweet singing voice heavy with sorrow. “Why do you keep calling?”

  “But, love, I–”

  “Stop calling me!” she screamed.

  “I just want to say how sorry I am.”

  “Just leave me alone.” She hung up.

  “God,” he sighed.

  It‘d been like this since their argument–except that was an understatement. It was a fight, the worst they“d ever had. He said things to her that he shouldn‘t have said, hurt her feelings deeply, and in a fit of anger she threw him out. All because of Tom.

  Tom is the guy that likes to tease his co-workers, the fun guy, the popular guy. Brian‘s relationship with Claire was the butt of his jokes. It was all supposedly in good fun, but it must have never sat well with Tom that he had a younger wife. Fun-loving Tom, living life to the fullest without a care, he just couldn‘t let it go.

  Brian at first thought nothing about it, until he caught Claire hushedly talking on the phone with Tom. He never gave her Tom‘s phone number. Could she really blame him for believing something was up?

  Since then, Tom had avoided him. A great feat considering their desks were opposite each other.

  Tom must be somewhere else in the building, Brian thought. The bastard can‘t hide forever.

  He went up, building courage as he went for things to come.

  The daily exercise walking the stairs paid off. Normally he would be panting and sweating a river by now, but he went up the fourteen floors without having the need of a second breath.

  On his floor, walking the hallway to his room, Brian avoided looking into the rooms he passed. He didn‘t feel the need to socialize with anyone who might fancy to call out for him. He wanted to save all his energy for his confrontation with Tom. Once he found him he would take their conversation to somewhere more secluded, maybe the basement, if he could gain access to it. Or they could go outside, somewhere away from strangers.

  He barged in. Tom‘s desk was empty. Brian looked around. Jim sat at his desk reading from his screen, probably something non-work-related going from the way he sat slumped backwards. Unaware of Brian‘s entrance, his eyes stayed glued to the screen.

  Jim was a fool that liked playing antics on his co-workers. He wasn‘t a bad man; he worked hard when there was a need to do so. Today not being one of those days.

  “Jim.”

  Jim looked up, squinting his eyes. “Brian? Is that you?”

  “Do you need glasses or something? Of course it‘s me.”

  “It‘s been a while since I saw you last.”

  Brian rolled his eyes. A thirty-minute break didn‘t consist being away for that long.

  “Where is Tom?”

  Jim shrugged and turned back to his screen.

  “Where is Tom!”

  Confused, Jim looked to the doorway and shivered. “Damn AC is acting up again. Thing been running too cold lately.”

  Brian breathed in deeply and mentally counted backward to ten.

  “Come on,” Brian said. “Please tell me where he went.”

  Jim stared at him, a deep frown on his face. “He just left. You two should have passed each other.”

  “No, we didn‘t.”

  “Strange.”

  This was becoming ridiculous. Tom kept avoiding him, or could it be more was going on?

  Jim returned his attention back to his screen. Or was Jim covering for Tom? Could it be that since the incident with Claire, Tom had been skipping work? Brian hoped not. They had a project to finish together; it would be the worst time possible for Tom to try become a ghost worker. Any other time he wouldn‘t mind if management got onto Tom skipping work; it would be a deserved punishment for screwing up Brian‘s marriage.

  Tom was responsible for contacting the clients, but he hadn“t turned his report in yet. Worse, Tom had the client list and without it Brian could not do the job on his own. Tom getting fired would make it near impossible for him finish the job assigned to them. He needed to get an extension from his manager and inconspicuously ask about Tom‘s whereabouts.

  Brian rushed out the door, looked to his right, toward the manager“s office, and the left, toward the coffee corner. The hallway was empty. He turned the left, walking on the gray coffee stained carpet toward the break corner. The plain white dully-undecorated walls cropped on him. Anxiety played with his mind. He tried to focus, but he couldn‘t help himself. What would he do when he find Tom? Worse, what would he do if he didn‘t?

  A short skittish woman stood in front of the coffee vending machine. She had short black uneven hair cut unevenly. A new face; she must be the intern. Brian had heard co-workers talk about her; an odd woman, they said. She wore a plain skirt reaching two inches under her knees, a rope belt, and a one-size-too-big turtleneck. Her bag, something one would sooner expect in the outdoors than in an office, lay next to her feet on the floor. Her back to him, she stood with her shoulders hunched, and her hand frozen in air holding her cup of coffee. He waited for her to move, questioning if he should say something. She shivered and slowly turned around, her eyes fixed on her toes.

  After a moment of awkward silence, Brian asked, “Are you going to stay here forever or move out of my way?”

  She backed away from him.

  “Watch out,” Brian yelled.

  She stumbled over her bag and fell, her cup slipping out of her hand and its contents splashing over the carpet adding to the stains already there. A few droplets got on her bare legs. She yelped. Brain hurried toward her with an outstretched hand to help her up. Instead she grabbed her bag and frantically scurried away from him. Her eyes were white with fear.

  “Please,” she mumbled.

  She got up, and ran away hugging her bag tight to her chest.

  ***End Excerpt***

  Ghost Worker

  Table of Contents

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine<
br />
  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Also By Author

  Contact

  Excerpt Ghost Worker

 

 

 


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