Z-Risen (Book 3): Poisoned Earth

by Long, Timothy W.

  Frosty growled and dashed between the pair. She moved down the hallway, turned and barked. The Zs turned to check out the noise.

  I didn’t have much left. The last swing had taken my energy reserves from around five percent to zero.

  Christy shouldered me aside, stepped into a shooter’s stance, and shot the woman in the head. She fell back, slapped the gun open and started to reload.

  The big Z stepped on the woman and fell forward. He grabbed me as he went down, and took me to the ground. He trapped my legs under his big body and crawled toward me. He reeked of rot and old blood. What little clothing he wore was ripped and covered in gore. His mouth, coming toward my face, was all broken teeth, blue-rimmed lips, and pale gums. When they got me, I was going to be one dead squid.

  The wrench was a hundred-pound barbell. I could barely lift it, and my swing was weaker than a six-year-old’s. The head hit the Z and pissed him off even more.

  I wedged the wrench under his chin and pushed up with both hands.

  The Zs behind us stumbled over the half-assed barricade and closed on our position.

  I tried to get my leg under the Z and use the maneuver Anna had performed on the shuffler the night before, but he was too heavy.

  Christy saved me.

  She lifted the Z’s head by a clump of hair, put her revolver to his temple, and blew his brains out.

  It took me precious seconds to wiggle out from under the mass. When we both staggered around the corner with a horde of fresh Zs on our ass, it was only to find the back emergency door.

  I ignored the “Warning: Alarm Will Sound” sign, took a running start, and hit the door hard enough to rattle the wall. Thankfully it gave, and I crashed through and hit the ground. Christy and Frosty followed close behind, the dog coming to my side, tail wagging like she was laughing at me.

  Christy acted fast and slammed the door shut. She picked up a piece of splintered wood and jammed it between the door and the frame, then kicked it until it was wedged in there tight. The Zs moaned behind the barricade, but they were stuck for now. However, the barricade wouldn’t last for long.

  I got to my feet and poked my head around the corner, cautious for any gunshots.

  What I saw made me utter a long and well-deserved “Fuck!”

  The wrecked trucks were still there and burning, but that was all. The helicopter was a blip as it sped across the sky. Whoever had been shooting at the military guys was also gone.

  The battle was over.

  The shapeless mass that had been advancing on the base was a little more visible now, and it was just as I’d suspected: an army of the dead, at least as large as the one we’d fled from in San Diego was moving on the base. Gunshots sounded, but the inhabitants must have become spooked, because an exodus was underway. Trucks departed at high speed, with men and women pouring out from the walls.

  The place was about to be completely overrun, and we’d been left behind.

  #31 – The Fuckening

  09:00 hours approximate

  Location: Just outside of Oceanside

  I dropped to the ground and leaned my back against the apartment building wall. Zs pounded on the door, but I didn’t care. We’d fought, run, escaped the odds, and now our friends were gone. Joel and Anna had left us behind. I stared up at the sky and wondered what we were supposed to do now.

  Not only that, but a flood of Zs was about to overrun this entire area.

  Christy grabbed my arm and tugged, but I pulled back.

  “Jackson, we need to move. That door’s not going to hold for very long,” she pleaded.

  “I know.”

  She stared at me, but didn’t say another word. Frosty panted and watched the doorway. She sat next to me and leaned over to lick my face. I pushed her away.

  I took a deep breath and got to my feet. No sense in sitting around waiting to be devoured. If I’d learned anything, it was that finding a place to hole up--even if it was for a few hours--was more important than just about anything.

  Christy took my hand, and together we moved out.

  Instinct kicked in, taking all of ten seconds. Bob and weave; that was the idea. Joel used to say that you had to think about every move, think about the layout of the ground you were about to traverse. Look for places to hide, and always keep your head up and on the lookout.

  But Joel was gone.

  We didn’t have much, besides a few weapons and our wits.

  I pulled it together, stood, and struck out with my companions at my side.

  We traversed a four-lane road and moved West until we’d gone a few miles--hopefully far away from the horde. We found a burned-out Albertsons, but didn’t bother to poke our heads inside the building.

  A strip mall sat across a parking lot, so we made for a T-Mobile store that featured broken windows, a smashed-in front door, and displays that used to feature the best of current technology. Cell phones, what a convenience they’d been. I could have picked up my phone and called Anna to find out where they’d run off to. The way Joel had been talking, he might have just decided to abandon my ass.

  The employees' room was small and had been tossed, but we found a chair and managed to wedge it against the door. I was hungry. Christy was grumpy, and Frosty had gas. Somehow we managed to settle into the little room and curl up together.

  “Do you think they’ll come back for us?”

  “I don’t know. I hope they do, but we’re a few miles away from the battle and they won’t even know where to start looking,” I replied.

  We chatted for a few minutes, but weariness was heavy and I found my eyes closing.

  “Want me to take first watch?” Christy asked.

  “If Zs wander in here, we’re dead anyway. Just get some rest,” I said.

  Christy didn’t answer, but tears welled up in her eyes.

  “I’m sorry, Christy. I feel like I let us down and now we’re all alone,” I said.

  “We have each other and we have Frosty. She’s a badass dog, you know,” Christy smiled.

  I smiled back.

  ###

  14:00 hours approximate

  Location: Just outside of Oceanside

  We rose a half dozen hours later.

  Night was in full swing, and my stomach grumbled about the lack of food. Christy didn’t complain, but I could tell she was hungry because she kept going through the remains of an overturned desk, looking for a morsel.

  I dragged the chair out of the way and opened the door in slow motion. When fifty Zs didn’t fall on us, I moved into the room, my wrench held up high.

  I felt a little better, rested, but every inch of my body hurt. I had bruises in crazy places, and my arms were so sore I thought I’d be good for one or two blows at most if we ran across any Zs.

  We ranged out and poked around a couple of stores, but they were long since emptied. We managed to find a can of baby formula that had been left in a bag of diapers, and took it. With no water, we weren’t sure how to consume it. Christy gave a half-laugh as I tried to eat a little bit, but my mouth was so dry that I coughed it back up.

  We’d need to make some water filters and soon, if we wanted to survive. Rain had come and gone, leaving puddles, but we weren’t about to drink anything out of a pothole.

  As morning faded into afternoon, we were still on the lookout for anything resembling food or water. Christy and I found another apartment building, but it had been stripped clean a few times over, with the exception of some clothes and a couple of blankets, not to mention all the abandoned furniture, smashed glasses and broken dishes.

  But Joel and I had become good at looking in weird places. I pulled a high shelf out of a closet and we found a small bag of chips that had expired a year ago.

  We gathered a few more small items, consisting of a couple of mints, a Hostess Twinkie that we would have to fight to the death over, and a single Diet Coke. We kept to doorways and under the cover of strip malls as we made our way back to the T-Mobile store. After poking
around and making sure that no Zs had wandered into the store during the day, I wedged the chair against the door.

  Christy looked as dejected as I felt, but we passed the soda back and forth and tried to outdo each other with belches. Then Christy got a fearful look in her eyes, so we went into silent running mode again.

  We ate the little bit of food, and then Christy spent an inordinate amount of time nibbling her half of the stale Twinkie, while I devoured mine in one bite.

  After an hour of staring at the wall, I heard a noise in the store. Christy checked the load in her revolver, and I tried to act like I was prepared for the worst by checking my wrench.

  I slid the chair aside and slowly opened the door.

  It was late and night had set in. I stared into the darkness, but nothing moved. It was just as we’d seen it a few hours ago, with its overturned chairs and broken displays laying like giant skeletons. I was about to close the door when a woman’s voice spoke.

  “Easy, bud. No harm meant.”

  I stiffened. I’d heard that phrase one too many times. "No harm" usually meant that someone meant some very serious fucking harm.

  Frosty growled low in her throat.

  “I know that look, and I promise it’s cool. We were on patrol when I noticed this place. Thought I might pick up an old cell phone, you know, like the old days. Sometimes you get one with some juice and a few tunes pre-loaded. I’ve gone through five or six now. The best is when you find one in someone’s pocket or bag and it’s filled with jams. I miss music, man. Cute dog, by the way. Hope she doesn’t try to eat my face.”

  I didn’t say a word but touched Frosty’s head to reassure her.

  She’d been squatting next to a pile of boxes--stuff we’d been through and tossed aside. She stood up on creaking knees and lowered her rifle. The gun looked like something Joel Kelly would have fallen in love with.

  The woman was dressed in black and wore straps and a belt, from which a number of weapons hung: a sidearm, a pair of knives, a flashlight, multiple magazines, and what looked like a canister of pepper spray. She appeared to be a little younger than me, and had a pair of big brown eyes with arched eyebrows.

  “You alone?” she asked.

  “We don’t want any trouble, truly. We’ve seen enough crazy shit over the last few weeks to last a lifetime,” I said.

  “We. Got it, so there’s more than one. Listen, I know I look like I might be as dangerous as a flea, but I’m pretty fast with this gun. Plus, one whistle and this place will be swarming. Why don’t you come out and join us? We’re heading back to base, and we have hot food, water, and even a place to sleep,” she said.

  I swallowed back a curt "No," but my stomach grumbled loud enough to attract a couple of shufflers.

  “Wait, base? You’re from the military base?”

  “Not those guys. Bunch of assholes trying to destroy the world, and we’re trying to rebuild it. You’d think that the z-poc would bring people together, but it just made the divide even deeper. That’s why we need some fresh blood. Just come on out and after we talk, I promise you that if you don’t like me and my friends you can just fuck off on your way and go find a nice horde to party with.”

  Christy pushed past me into the room and studied the woman. She held her revolver in one hand, but it hung at her side. Frosty wandered into the room and sniffed the woman’s leg.

  She stayed still while the dog checked her out.

  “I’m confused. We saw a battle earlier.” I was careful not to show any complicity on either side. “We didn’t want to get caught in the middle, so we’ve been in hiding. We lost our gear.”

  “That battle was a real fucking mess, friend. Didn’t want any part of it, but they started shooting at us. We were scouting that massive horde when someone in a truck opened fire on one of our vehicles.”

  “Wow,” I said, trying to play it cool. When we’d been heading back to base one of the military trucks had been blown half off the road. I clearly remember one of the men yelling “IED”.

  “It was a real clusterfuck,” she said and reached down to let Frosty sniff her hand.

  “So you got attacked, and then what?”

  “Not much else. Returned fire, took a few losses, but that horde was closing in on the new Bright Star base, and we wanted nothing to do with a hundred thousand Zs." She slipped off a black cap and rubbed at her forehead.

  “Jackson?” Christy asked.

  I put my hand in hers and gripped it tight.

  “I’m confused. Who are you with?”

  “Easy enough, friend. They started calling us Reavers because it sounds more ominous than ‘the others’. Sounds silly when you think about it, especially with us fighting to liberate cities while they are fighting to lock them down. Containment, they call it, but I call it a prison. Enough about all that stuff. Just understand that we’re the good guys.”

  The ground rocked beneath us. I threw my hands out to grab for anything but ended up catching Christy. We both went to the ground in a heap. Frosty ran back into our little improvised room and cowered.

  The woman sat down and looked, worried. No. She looked like she was about to shit bricks.

  “That is not good. They’re moving much faster than we’d anticipated,” she said.

  A roar built and passed over us taking more than a few seconds to pass. The building shook so hard I thought it was going to fall apart.

  “The fuck was that?” I realized I was yelling.

  “They just nuked LA. The new plan is sterilization; build on what’s left after the earth’s been cleansed. Never mind that it’s going to poison everything with radiation. Fuckers,” she said.

  I shook my head at the absurdity. I helped Christy off the ground and together we moved to the door. I stepped over shattered glass and poked our heads outside.

  Much to my horror, I found that the woman hadn’t lied because a mushroom cloud rose far to the North.

  I nodded, unable to find words, because the entire world was nuts, and we were right in the middle of The Fuckening.

  This is Machinist Mate First Class Jackson Creed, and I am still alive.

  THE END

  The story will continue in Z-Risen 4: Reavers

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  Why I wrote Z-Risen: Poisoned Earth

  Sorry this book took so long! As a thank you for sticking with the series, I’ve included a bonus story called Congress of the Dead. I hope you enjoyed Z-Risen 3 and I look forward to completing Z-Risen 4: Reavers.

  I’ve written a lot of zombie books over the years and I’ve always had fun trying to come up with new twists in the genre. Z-Risen was born out of a conversation, over beers, with my friend Craig DiLouie in mid-2013. I had an idea to do a military-themed series based partially on my own time in the United States Navy, and pair up a Navy Engineer with a Marine. The two forces have always had a friendly rivalry, and I thought it would make for a good story.

  The book was initially written as a free web serial, and it was set in the same world as my Permuted Press book Beyond the Barriers--the books can be read independently.

  I’m an indie author and I work very hard on my books. I hold down a fulltime job, have a family, and still manage to get in a few hours a day to write. I love hearing input from readers, and the best way to provide that is via a review.

  When you leave a review on Amazon, Barnes & Noble, Smashwords, or whereever you purchased a book, it helps other readers. This also helps the author out more than you can imagine. It’s hard to be a successful independent author, but when a book sells well, it is likely to get sequels, and that’s what I have planned for the Z-Risen series.

  So please, friends, if you can spare a few minutes of your time, go and review Z-Risen: Poisoned Earth on Amazon.

  CLICK TO REVIEW

  Be honest, and know that I read every review and use feedback to
better my writing, as well as have a positive impact on future books.

  Watch for Z-Risen 4: Reavers in 2015.

  11:15 hours approximate

  Seattle, WA – currently free of dead

  This is author Timothy W. Long and I am still alive and writing… for now.

  Bonus Story

  CONGRESS OF THE DEAD

  Perry’s Got Wood

  Governor Perry looked up into the blue eyes of the most beautiful woman he had ever seen and wished for the hundredth time that his junk would snap out of its funk.

  Her boobs swayed over him like water balloons. They were the size of Texas and made him think of the Goodyear Blimp – which didn’t help matters in his nether regions because the blimp made him think of football. Then his mind delved into men in tight football uniforms. From there it wasn't a huge leap to them showering together after a big game. This, in turn, made his Johnson just about give up the ghost.

  “Something wrong, honey?” the gorgeous vixen purred.

  Was anything wrong? Was anything wrong?! Only everything! He was with the girl he had stalked online for a decade. He had every movie she had ever appeared in. He had every image ever posted to the web. He had a stash of magazines in the attic, behind his old comics, in a box marked ‘Taxes 1982 - 1987.’ Some days, when his wife was away, he would take them out and just flip through the pages over and over.

  He kept a group of magazines in front because they were his favorite, his spank-pack that he spread out and masturbated to while saying her name over and over again. Sometimes he wore a diaper and baby-talked to her images while imagining himself in her lap, licking and sucking her giant boobs. It wasn’t that he was into the lactation thing; he just wanted a pair of huge tits to suck on.