Zombie Dawn II: A Zombie Apocalypse Sequel
By J.A. Crowley
Recap:
After the world fell apart, I took what was left of my family and headed north to an island in Vermont to establish a safe zone, which we called the Farm. On a search and destroy mission to Burlington to eradicate zombies, my wife, Kate, and oldest son, Mike, were captured, and, I thought, killed, by zombies. I escaped and returned to the Farm, only to face an organized attack from a mixed force of humans and zombies. The zombies were led by Santos and Mariana, a couple of troubled—and troubling—children from my home town who had somehow become the king and queen of the zombies. Santos hated me because I had thrown him to a pack of zombies after I intuited that he had abandoned his sister to save himself.
We fought off the attack on the Farm, but at great cost. Something I saw at the end of the battle led me to believe that Mike and Kate were somehow alive, captives of Santos and Mariana, so I left my other kids, Bobbie and Sean, with my big brother Jim and set off after Mike and Kate. I promised myself that I would not return to the Farm without Mike and Kate--and until I’d killed Santos and Mariana. It didn’t quite work out that way.
Chapter 1: Jack’s Journey—The Hunt Begins
Knowing that Mike and Kate were alive thrilled and terrified me at the same time. The thrill was nice, since I knew I couldn’t live for long without Kate. She was the true love of my life. I knew that my life would not be living without her. Also, because Mike, my oldest, was turning into a very impressive young man with a lot to offer in this new world. He’d matured so much in the months since the “Change.” Whatever you want to call it.
The terror came from not knowing what type of condition they were in and what Santos may have done to them. Had he already killed them? Was he torturing them even now? I drove myself wild imagining the worst.
I also wondered if I had what it would take to get them back. And I doubted myself—my entire chase was based on a single quick view through a scope during a firefight. How could I be sure that Mike was alive just from that quick view through a scope? That I somehow “knew” they were alive did not stop the night terrors. There was little sleep for me.
I was exhausted after the battle, but I knew that I had to set out right then, without any debate, while the trail was live. Jim would naturally take over at the Farm. He was a born leader, even if he was a bit of a fuck up at times. Never listened to his little brother, always had to be right, on and on. I knew we’d ultimately find the island too small anyway. It was inevitable. That big brother vibe carries on, even after the apocalypse. It’s one of the universal truths. But it’s the type of truth that’s a good problem to have, relatively speaking.
I knew that Bobbie and Sean were in good hands, too. I didn’t even want to look at Bobbie to tell her goodbye, because I thought she might try to get me stay. And I might weaken. That kid had me wrapped around her finger. And Sean would want to come with me, but he was just too young to travel as fast as I had to. He was so persuasive he could talk me into almost anything. He would be the ultimate trial lawyer--if we ever had the need for that profession again. Sadly, I thought we probably would, some day.
So I had to go. It was better for them to stay. There was no real choice, and this is a world of hard choices now. Life or death, all the time. Make the call and see what happens.
It’s not easy to give up on two to try to save two. So I comforted myself with the thought that, if I was really, really lucky, maybe we could all end up together again, safe and healthy. Nice dream, huh? That illusion was what kept me going. I figured I’d end up seeing unicorns flying over rainbows if I stayed on that track, so I tamped it down a bit. Focus on the task. Do your job.
I had to pack light, so all I brought was a silenced Beretta Model 9, my scoped M4 with a suppressor, and a backpack with some food and water. A few camping things. I figured I could forage as I went, and I knew that I couldn’t carry much weight. I really didn’t need as much stuff as in the “old days.” Funny, that the “old days” had ended only a few months before. Already a distant memory.
I thought about taking a horse or a bike, but I figured that the attackers would set up some rear guard listening posts and I didn’t want to stumble into an ambush. Nor did I want to lose the trail. I packed up and jogged off the Farm, sobbing as I went.
Chapter 2: Kate’s Diary—The Eagle’s Nest
When I was captured, the lights just went out. I guess I fell asleep that night, since I’d felt sort of safe and comfortable up there in the Eagle’s Nest. Not to mention totally exhausted, physically and emotionally.
Anyway, I nodded off. The zombies were somehow in the walls and ceiling, I guess, and came rushing in and there was nothing I could do. It was my fault, and I just knew that I had killed Mike and Jack. Guilty as charged.
Even with my eyes closed, the sight of the zombies storming us plays over and over again inside my eyelids. My last thought during the attack had been wonder: why were they not ripping me apart like they did all the others? They were rough, and they hurt me, but no bites or clawing. Just before that, I’d been hoping to die, if my death would somehow help Mike and Jack to get away. Knowing even as I thought it how stupid it was. My last memory was of a huge zombie, different somehow, somehow “more” than the others, staring at me, then moving towards me. Given the swollen jaw I woke up with, I guess it must have knocked me out.
The first thing I saw when I came to was a young man dressed all in black. Black dress pants, black shirt, black everything. Black cape over it all, believe it or not.
He was clearly human, sort of Hispanic looking, almost handsome, with one of those wispy adolescent mustaches. Kind of like JLo’s husband, or ex, or whatever. Maybe my height or a little shorter. I’d never seen this kid before, but I could tell it was Santos.
Jack had told me about him. I had an immediate visceral reaction to him, like you’d have to a poisonous snake. First you pull away, then you want to kill it with a hoe or shovel. You never get comfortable with it.
That feeling never went away, either. He had a female zombie with him, very “fresh” and almost normal looking. He called her something that sounded like “Dokeh.” There was another one, too, a horrible looking obese black woman called “Rina,” from the name on her shirt anyway. Not sure if it was a bowling shirt or a mechanic’s shirt. It was stiff from blood and gore. Dokeh smelled okay, but Rina’s stench made me gag, and I even threw up a few times.
I later learned that they were among his key lieutenants. But I knew nothing about that at first. All I knew about was brains and wolves and shamblers. Brains were the ones that we thought were the leaders. Smart, intact, usually taller, better dressed. They never spoke out loud, but could seemingly direct other zombies using some kind of telepathy. At least it seemed like they could. We always tried to shoot them first.
Wolves traveled in packs. They were the worker bees of the zombie pack. Vicious and clever. Always in groups, always working together. Sneaky and fast. Dangerous as hell. They took orders—silent orders—from the brains and carried them out efficiently. Or, were just sent out in packs to kill humans. We would shoot or kill them as soon as we’d shot any brains in range.
Shamblers were what we called the main mass of zombies. Stupid, slow, easy to kill. Except that you’d run out of bullets. Or wander into one in the woods. Or step on one in a lake or stream. Their power was in their implacable mass and sheer numbers. Shamblers never got tired, never gave up. They would ultimately defeat any fence or barrier. Just a matter of time.
Anyway, Santos and these woman things were different from what I’d seen before. Jack had told me
about them and was maybe starting to figure it out, and he’d even been starting a chart to describe the different types and abilities. He kept it under his bed, believe it or not, because he was not ready to reveal it. Maybe he was afraid to be wrong.
It was different seeing the advanced zombies up close. Santo had scabbed over bites on his hands and neck, but he had not turned. He was either about to turn, or somehow resistant. Maybe he was immune, who knows. Who cares, really, because I knew he was mine to kill. All I needed was a chance.
He had sort of a whiny, lispy voice and was in a rage. He was waving a bullwhip around. It would have been funny, but he was pretty good with it. He’d whip Dokeh and Rina for no reason. Their lack of response enraged him even more.
He whipped me a couple of times, too. Very lightly, just to show that he could. Even the lightest lash hurt like a motherfucker. I looked forward to jamming that whip up his ass some time soon.
“Where is he? How did he escape me?” He whisper-lisped. He was really scary, though. Like something from under your bed when you’re a kid. Look into the eyes and see Hell. That type of scary. On top of sheer horror, I had to try not to laugh at his lisp, his whip, and his bizarre getup. It was a difficult task.
“Who are you talking about?”
“Bobbie’s father. The leader. The dark man. Tell me now!”
I realized that he did not know who I was. Or who Jack was. What was so dark about Jack, anyway? He was kind of a basic white guy in color. Which was funny, because before I met Jack I liked the Mediterranean type. Like Santos, but taller and with some meat on the bone. Anyway, to call Jack dark was just weird. I paused too long.
Santos’ hands grabbed my upper arms, hard. I reflexively slammed my head forward into his face. He was lighting quick and dodged it, but I did make some contact with his lower jaw and chest. Drew a little blood. Small satisfaction.
Dokeh hit me and I passed out again. The light drew to a point, then disappeared. All was dark.
Chapter 3 Mariana and Santos
Mariana had turned during the first horde attack. Santos had left her for the zombies storming their building and sought safety himself. She forgave him.
She wanted only to be with Santos. She lived for him. She was his, heart and soul.
Mariana had a rare genetic defect that prevented the virus from completely changing her. Instead of taking over, the virus amplified a nascent psychic ability that she’d always had. She’d always been the quiet, sensitive type. Others like her could sense her presence and even felt at peace in her presence. Like Jack’s daughter, Bobbie. That was before the Apocalypse and the Change. What had been a gentle, unexplored curing power had become corrupted by the virus.
Now, her power allowed her to control the other zombies using just her mind. Santos had some of it too. Enough to communicate with and control Mariana. Silently. Without moving. Thought becomes communication. Thought becomes action. Thought becomes power.
Mariana had great power, and she knew it. Even as a zombie, she had the capacity to be good. To heal, to cure. But Mariana’s sole weakness was her big step-brother, Santos. She knew he was bad news. But he’d also protected her for many years. He was the only one who understood her. He’d protected her from everyone and everything—but he couldn’t, wouldn’t protect her from himself.
She knew that he’d sacrificed her to the zombies. She knew that he was using her to control the undead and grow his own power. She knew that what they did together was wrong, evil. But she could not help herself; she was his virtual slave. She lived for him. He controlled her, and she controlled the undead.
Now, she remembered only Santos. The sound of his soft voice. The touch of his smooth hand. Santos, and the taste of human flesh.
Chapter 4: Mike’s Journal—Captured at the Eagle’s Nest
I’m going to keep this journal so that people know what happened to me. I can’t be certain that it won’t be found, so I’ll leave some pages behind whenever we stop. Maybe someone will find it. I’ll leave them wrapped up in plastic bags. This is #1.
A few months ago I was a regular kid in a regular world. My worries included school, sports, friends, girls, video games, and avoiding getting a full time summer job. It all changed in one day. The old world is gone forever.
My parents are Jack and Kate. They kept our family alive when it happened. But we were lucky. So many people are dead. All of my friends. Most of my family. My teachers and coaches. Everyone but the lucky few.
Mom and I were captured in Burlington at the Eagle’s Nest. I guess Mom fell asleep. Can’t blame her for that. I’d fallen asleep on guard duty, too. Survival in this world sometimes came down to pure luck. Try to do the right thing, the safe thing, all the time. But you’ll make a mistake from time to time. Forget to reload. Walk around a corner. Wade through a stream. You wouldn’t know it was a mistake until it suddenly was a mistake. Guaranteed that it would happen. I went from a kid who had to be told three times to empty the trash to a man with life and death responsibility over others in about two days. I did my best, it just wasn’t good enough.
We fought back but there was no way. Too many of them, too much sleep-haze. Too much panic. Anyway, Dad and I fought and ran. We were getting good at killing, running, and fighting. We almost made it out, but a rope that I was using to climb down broke on me. Like I said, luck counts. I could also say life sucks, but at least I’m alive.
I fell pretty far but landed on a pile of zombies. I was banged up but nothing broke. The body I landed on was crushed. It felt like making a tackle on special teams. A violent collision, but you get right up. Except that I was surrounded by brains and wolves and had no gun. I could see my Dad still dangling from a rope. Looked like he was going to shoot me to “end” me. I shook my head, realizing I wasn’t ready to die. Maybe that’s why he didn’t shoot. Or maybe he saw that they weren’t eating me so he held off.
They made me put on handcuffs. I guess I should’ve fought to the death right there, but the thought of getting eaten, then turning, is repellent. Too gruesome to imagine. I’d always thought that I’d be able to end myself, or that someone would end me. So, given the choice, I gave up. Dad didn’t shoot. I gave him a look, asking him to do it, but he was gone. I let them put the fucking handcuffs on. Wishing I were dead.
After they got me, they brought me to this zombie guy named Albert Miles. One of the other enslaved humans told me his name. Albert was a zombie, but not like anything we’d seen before. Very tall, almost clean clothes. Silent. But for the whiff of rot, mostly covered by, believe it or not, Brut cologne could almost pass for a human. He’s a total sissy, very effeminate. Even as a zombie you could tell he was a girly boy. So is his zombie buddy, who they say is named Conrad Pitt.
This human told me that everyone in his small town, which was called Plainville, knew Albert and Conrad. They were actually a couple, and both had full blown AIDS. This guy had thought they were dead, in fact, but ran into them after the Superflu struck. Somehow the Superflu saved these guys, made them stronger. Made them leaders. One virus, or whatever, rolling right over another. I guess I should have paid attention in biology class. I wonder if there’s anyone alive who can figure out this virus stuff?
Like I said, they seem almost normal. Until feeding time. Then, their slaves bring them babies. Either zombie or human, it doesn’t seem to matter. Conrad crushes the skulls. Albert eats the brains. Conrad gets the rest. They make me watch sometimes. I cannot wait to get a shot at these guys.
After a day or two with Albert and Conrad, who never laid a hand on me, I get brought to Santos. This guy Santos is the leader. He’s the creep that my Dad threw to a horde of zombies back home. I remembered him from school, before he got thrown out. He was some kind of sicko. I could tell by the look on my Dad’s face that Santos was bad news. Now I knew why.
He keeps human hostages and makes their loved ones do his bidding. He’s got a huge army of human slaves and zombies. He’s a freak and a creep.
&
nbsp; His sister, Mariana, is some type of advanced zombie superbitch. That’s what I think of her as—the Superbitch. She was friends with my sister Bobbie but she always creeped me out. Bobbie’s one of those kids who tries to save baby squirrels, birds with broken wings, anything in danger. I guess that’s why she hung with Mariana. Mariana sure isn’t saving any squirrels these days. She and Santos together are pure evil.
Mariana must control the zombies through some type of mind control. There seem to be several different levels of them, from regular shufflers, to wolves, to brains, then guys like Conrad and Albert, on up to Mariana. She’s only about 14 or 15, since she’d stayed back in school a couple times, but looks and acts way older now.
Anyway, Santos had seen me shoot a bunch of his guys back at the Eagle’s Nest. After they caught me, he told me that I was his lead sniper now. I told him to fuck himself and spit in his face. My hands were tied with zip strips or I would’ve punched him.
One of his goons, a ginger redneck, knuckled me with a left that must have knocked me out. The guy’s name was Marvel. Who names a guy that? I decided that he was on the “A” list, in second place. Right after Santos. What is it about gingers? I do kind of hate them.
I awoke, soaked with a bucket of piss or something, based on how bad it stank, and saw my Mom. She was crying. Santos was about to brand her with a red hot iron poker if I didn’t do what he said.
I told her I’d do what he wanted, just leave her alone. That my father would kill him either way, but at least he’d make it quick if he left us alone. That he had a huge army. I made that part up.
Mom was wild, trying to kick and claw him. She told me to shut up. She told me not to do it. I figured I’d at least listen to the asshole, buy some time, keep Mom safe.
Then I figured it out. Without thinking about it, I’d let Santos know that my father was the leader of the Farm—and the guy who threw him to the zombies. Big mistake.
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