A Zombie Awakening (Book 1): The Darkening

by Cynthia Melton

  “Yeah.”

  “Well, it seems to be coming true.” As she steered back to the main road, she kept her eyes peeled for shuffling, moaning, people. She lived in a nightmare. Maybe she’d hit her head and was in a coma. That had to be it. Zombies. Weren’t. Real.

  Five miles farther, Chalice stopped at the on-ramp to the interstate. Bumper-to-bumper vehicles sat empty and clogged the way. Some were only burned out shells. Others abandoned. Most looked as if they’d been in a slaughter house. Blood smeared the windows and trailed onto the pavement. The rank smell of death filled the air.

  “I need the map.” Chalice rolled up her window.

  Her brother dug it out of the glove compartment and spread it across the dash.

  Chalice thought about taking another, less traveled highway, but knew she’d find the same congestion. They’d have to take the back roads. She eyed the line of cars ahead of them. Maybe a four-wheel drive, or that motor home next to the gas truck. But she hated leaving their mother’s car behind, and the thought of transferring all the supplies left her tired before they’d even started.

  Two men rummaged through the debris, moving from one automobile to the next. They didn’t seem interested in confiscating a ride, just scavenging whatever they could find.

  Hanna leaned over the seat. “I don’t want to go out there.”

  Chalice nodded. “Neither do I, but that motor home has a water hose from it to the gas truck. My guess is it’s full of gas and would make a better place to live than the Rambler. As much as I hate leaving Mom’s car behind, I think that’s the best bet.”

  “And it’s big enough to push other cars out of the way,” Mychal said. “That’s a good idea.”

  A shot rang out, and they ducked. Chalice peeked over the steering wheel to where the two men still ran in and out of cars. Then, three more people, a man and a woman appeared down the road and the scavengers fired more shots.

  The newcomers were covered with blood and growling. The woman dragged her leg, one of her arms missing. The men stumbled around the debris in the road instead of climbing over.

  “Are those zombies?” Chalice peered over the steering wheel.

  “Oh, crap.” Mychal rolled up his window. “Lay low and be quiet. Don’t let them smell you.”

  “Seriously?” She rolled up her window while Hanna took care of the back ones. “Hanna, keep Lady quiet. Tie something around her mouth so she can’t bark and then get on the floor.”

  This couldn’t be happening. Completely impossible. Zombies weren’t real. She wiggled her way under the steering wheel. Her heart beat so loud she swore they’d be able to hear it.

  An odd skritching sound passed on both sides of the car. Chalice clamped a hand over her mouth, sure they could hear her breathing, smell her sweat.

  An hour passed before she felt safe to venture from the station wagon. She wriggled back to her seat and studied the area around them. Quiet. Not even a sign from the looters.

  “If you run across one, you have to shoot it in the head or ram something into their skull. You have to kill the brain,” Mychal told her. “Nothing else works.”

  “How do you know all this?”

  “Movies.”

  “Gross.” She motioned for her brother and sister to stay in the car, then kept low as she made her way to the motor home, her rifle clutched in her hand. She’d watched a zombie movie once and said she never would again. Now, she lived one. Too weird.

  The back door hung open. One glance told her someone had cleaned out anything of value inside. That was fine. All she cared about was the roof over their heads and gas in the tank. Until she stepped inside and saw the bodies.

  An elderly couple sat slumped at the table, a bullet hole in the center of each of their foreheads. Clearly someone shot them then stole their supplies. At least they weren’t one of those things. She swallowed down the acid in her throat. Now, she needed to dispose of the bodies.

  She slung her rifle strap across her shoulders and grabbed the woman beneath the arms. So that’s where the term dead weight came from. She grunted and dragged the woman outside and into the culvert, then went back for the man.

  When she’d finished, she stood and stared at their lifeless bodies in the ashy dirt and wished she could spare the time to bury them properly. Instead, she opted for a short prayer, then motioned for her siblings to start transferring things from the Rambler to the motor home.

  She climbed to the top of their new home and kept watch, praying they could save everything before more zombies showed up. Even the word sounded ridiculous. If she hadn’t seen them with her own eyes, she never would have believed it. She still didn’t. Zombies weren’t real!

  ###

  Colton took a swig from his water bottle, then squirted the rest into Buddy’s mouth, grateful for the hundredth time that day he’d brought the dog with him. A four-legged companion was better than no companion at all. Besides, he was a great deterrent when people got too close to the Suburban. His massive head looked like he could take off somebody’s face.

  Colton scratched behind the dog’s ears. “Nobody needs to know you’re just a big old teddy bear.”

  He transferred his attention back to the line at the gas pump. Amazing that the owner could keep control of the “customers”. Money wouldn’t be any good for a long time in this new world, if ever. The man appeared to be bartering gasoline for food. Colton hoped he had something the man would want as he watched one car be denied for lack of payment.

  Colton watched in his rearview mirror as a rusty Chevy roared up behind him. He edged the Suburban closer to the pump. No way was the guy getting in front of him. The Chevy growled and touched his bumper. Colton lifted the rifle from the passenger seat and slowly slid it to the dashboard. In plain sight of any fool who wanted to force the issue.

  Finally, he pulled up to a pump. The owner carried a rifle across his back and a pistol in a holster.

  Colton nodded and noted the name on the man’s uniform. “So, how much for the gas, Ed?”

  “What do you have?” Ed narrowed his eyes.

  “What do you need?”

  “Look kid, there’s a line a mile long behind you. I’m going to run out of gas way before I run out of customers. I’m not in the mood for games. Besides, someone said there was a herd of zombies headed this way, and I aim to be long gone.”

  Okay, now things were getting really strange. Zombies. What would they think of next? “Will five packs of cigarettes fill up my tank?”

  The man grinned. “That’ll fill up your tank and a five gallon container.”

  Colton fished the cigs from behind the seat while the man siphoned gas to fill the Suburban’s tank. Yep, the case of cigarettes he’d filched would be like cash money. Where could he get more? Maybe some booze.

  He rested his arm on the open window. “Do you know whether the roads are clear from here to the Oklahoma border?”

  “I wouldn’t take Interstate 40 if I was you. Heard tell it’s clogged with abandoned cars and those … things.”

  Yeah, but Colton drove a vehicle with a reinforced front bumper. He could plow his way through and avoid crowds. “What are you talking about? What things?”

  “Have you been hiding in a cave for the last month?” The attendant shook his head. “The meteor shower set off a plague of some sort. There’s thousands of walking dead feeding off the living. If I were you, I’d get to the least populated area you can and keep low.”

  “Are you serious?” Colton peered at the man’s eyes. “Are you high on something?”

  Cars honked down the line, drawing his attention. A large crowd of people shuffled toward them. One man stood through the sunroof of his car and started shooting a nine millimeter. The people kept coming. What kind of world had Colton ventured back into?

  Buddy barked from the open window.

  “Kid, roll up those windows, shut up that dog, and get the hell out of here.” The attendant shut off the pump and dashed back into his s
hop. A heavy mesh curtain unrolled, striking the concrete with a thunk.

  Tank full, Colton jumped behind the wheel and burned rubber out of the parking lot. Not that he had a particular destination in mind, but speed called his name. His heart beat erratically, blood thumping in his temple.

  By the time they reached the interstate, Colton’s fingers on the steering wheel cramped. He’d seen the movies, read the books. He knew what was coming. Someday, he’d have to shoot somebody in the head. Could he?

  Buddy woofed and his tail wagged. Ahead of them, a girl about Colton’s age and two younger kids climbed into the back of a motor home. A German Shepherd hopped in after them. Within minutes, the motor home roared to life. Like a demolition derby driver, the motor home plowed through the stalled cars, clearing a path.

  Cool. Colton followed in the motor home’s wake with the vision of a dark-haired girl in his mind. One that wasn’t of the walking dead variety.

  Chapter 5

  Chalice glanced in her side view mirror. The black suburban had been following them since early afternoon. It stayed far enough behind that she couldn’t tell whether a man or woman drove or how many people were inside. Only that the biggest dog she’d ever seen hung its head out the window and slobbered on the glass. Hopefully, taking advantage of her moving vehicles off the road was their only motive.

  Zombies didn’t drive, she didn’t think. Nor would they have a pet.

  “Can I use the toilet in here?” Hanna opened the door to a room no bigger than a broom closet.

  “Yes, but don’t use the shower. I don’t know how much water they’ve managed to store in the tanks.” Did a motor home have tanks? There were so many things she didn’t know. She shook her head and concentrated on barreling through the throng of cars. The twenty-foot house on wheels wasn’t the easiest thing she’d ever driven.

  Before they’d gone the first mile, she almost changed her mind about taking it when she sideswiped the first road sign and sent Hanna into screaming hysterics at the screech of metal against metal.

  Not to mention she’d had to slow down numerous times because she was afraid of doing damage to the undercarriage. And her hands and arms hurt. A lot. Driving the big boat of a vehicle wasn’t easy.

  Tears burned her eyes. She shouldn’t be a mother to her brother and sister. She ought to be nothing more than the bossy older sister. Making survival decisions in a hostile world was not on her to-do list. She wanted college and a teaching career. She sniffed and swiped the back of her hand across her face.

  The darkness increased, and she flipped on the headbeams. Occasionally she spotted people shuffling along the shoulder of the road, rummaging through garbage or peering into cars. Most ignored her as she passed, while others stared with half-eaten faces or battered bodies. Why hadn’t more people prepared for the worst case scenario the president warned might happen? Not in her wildest imagination would she have thought a plague that turned people into zombies could happen.

  One time, she’d heard a politician say that everyone should prepare for a zombie attack. If you were prepared for zombies, you were prepared for anything. She wished she would’ve taken him more seriously.

  Where was the president now? Safe in some bunker planning on how to rule the new world while kids struggled to put food in their mouths? While people fought to survive and not be food themselves?

  It still hurt that they’d left their home and their mother’s car behind. Chalice stiffened her back. But she had to think about Mychal and Hanna now. Not mementos of a life they’d never get back. It haunted her that she might have actually seen her mother’s burned body walk out of the house. Most likely it was someone else since their mother died during the firestorm, but now she’d never know for sure. And if the burned woman had been her mother, which she doubted, she would’ve tried to kill them all the same.

  Did she want to know? She groaned. She didn’t know anything.

  The headbeams of the Suburban shined off her mirror. Chalice squinted against the glare. The vehicle now trailed only a few feet behind. She pulled to the side of the road. Maybe he’d pass. The Suburban moved over, too.

  Chalice huffed air through her lips then chewed the inside of her cheek. What should she do? She glanced over her shoulder to where Mychal and Hanna curled up on one of the beds asleep.

  Should she confront the driver? What if they needed her help? Wouldn’t they flash their lights or something? There was strength in numbers. If the other driver could be trusted, then having someone else along would be good.

  Her stomach rolled, and she swallowed down the acid churning her stomach. Maybe she shouldn’t have taken the motor home. It shined like a huge beacon with a target that says follow me. In a smaller car, they could’ve blended in, but would have had to leave more of their personal belongings behind.

  Lady hung her head out the window and barked. The monster dog behind them answered. Between the two animals, they’d attract every living, or dead, body within miles around.

  Enough. Chalice stopped the vehicle, grabbed her rifle, and shoved open her door. “Come, Lady.” The German Shepherd bounded after her. With her gun at the ready, Chalice approached the Suburban.

  She stopped a few feet away. “Get out of the truck.”

  The driver’s window rolled down a few inches. “I don’t think so.”

  “Why are you following us?”

  “Seemed like the smart thing to do. You cleared the road like a snow plow.”

  Chalice chewed her lip. The night wind bit through the sweat shirt she wore. “How long do you intend to follow?”

  “No idea. Don’t worry. I’m not going to bother you.” He rolled up his window.

  Seriously! Chalice turned on her heel and stormed back. He might say he’s harmless, but the guy was rude. Sounded young, too. Close to her age. She gave him another glance and climbed behind the wheel.

  He’d better not get them all eaten.

  ###

  Colton drummed his fingers on the steering wheel. The pretty girl in front of him drove too slow. Probably didn’t want to mess up the front of the motor home any more than she had already. At this rate, they’d barely move twenty miles before full dark. He squinted through the window. Why was she stopping now?

  The girl climbed from the vehicle and headed into the ditch.

  Colton craned his neck to watch her approach two children sitting on the side of the road. She squatted next to them, said something he couldn’t hear, then ushered them into the back of her house on wheels. He shook his head. If she stopped to pick up every stray on the way, he’d never get off the interstate. He waited for her to move. After five minutes, he grabbed his gun and slid from the truck.

  He marched and pounded on the girl’s door.

  “Who is it?”

  “The guy from the Suburban.” He rubbed his chin.

  The door cracked open an inch. “What do you want?”

  “Are you moving any farther tonight?”

  “No. Go away.” She slammed the door.

  He glanced around, feeling foolish standing in the middle of the road. “Buddy.” The dog bounded toward him. “Do your business, boy.”

  He cradled his rifle in his arms as the dog sniffed out the perfect place to lift his leg. Colton contemplated continuing on then discarded the idea. He couldn’t in good conscience leave a trailer full of kids alone at night. He wasn’t positive there wasn’t an adult with them, but the fact that the teenage girl confronted him, led him to believe there wasn’t.

  Out here they were sitting ducks. Of course, the suburban didn’t allow him a good view of the surrounding area, either.

  He stepped into the field where Buddy romped. Was that a road? He jogged a few yards. Yes. A dirt road branched off the interstate. If they parked among the trees, they might pass the night unnoticed. He returned to the motor home and pounded again.

  “What?” The door swung open and he came eye to muzzle with the girl’s gun. “Uh, there’s a dirt road
over there. Maybe we should get out of sight for the night.”

  She cocked her head. “Since when did all of us become a we?”

  He sighed. “I can’t leave y’all out here alone.”

  “We’re managing just fine, thank you.”

  “Look. My name is Colton Morgan. That beast over there is my dog, Buddy. All I’m asking is that you allow us to keep following you and that you pull off the road for the night.”

  She stepped down and closed the door. Silence screamed as she studied his face. Somewhere in the distance, a gunshot rattled the night. She jerked. “Okay.” She bounded back inside.

  Colton dashed for his truck. Within minutes, they were hid in the trees. Hopefully, far enough that they wouldn’t be murdered in their sleep.

  He reclined his seat, laid the gun across his lap, and closed his eyes. A tap on the window snapped his eyes open. He snatched the rifle and pointed it at the window. The girl peered in at him. He rolled down the glass separating them.

  “Have you had anything to eat?” she asked, shining a flashlight in his eyes.

  “I almost shot you. What if you were one of those things?” Was she stupid? He raised his arm to block the light. “Can you lower the light?”

  “Those ‘things’ wouldn’t knock.” She frowned. “I don’t feel right having you out here by yourself. Not when you seem worried about us.”

  “I’m not leaving my stuff. But thanks for the offer.”

  “My name’s Chalice Hart.”

  “Like, a, uh, goblet?

  She gave him a sad smile. “My mother said her cup ran over with joy when I was born.”

  “That’s sweet.” Made him want to gag. At least she had a mother. “Did you pick up two kids today?”

  “I couldn’t leave them alone. Their parents are missing.”

  He knew what that meant. Their parents were dead or one of the horde that shuffled along the roads. “You won’t have the room or the food to pick up everyone you run across.”

  “I know.” She straightened. “But, I’ll help as much as I can. They’re children, Colton. Five and seven years old.” She turned and walked away, leaving him feeling like he’d been scolded by a teacher from school.