Soldiers of ZED: Book 1 - Tripton-Z Series

by WR Peden

  Table of Contents

  Home

  Special Thanks

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  About the Author

  Soldiers

  Of ZED

  Book One: Tripton-Z Series

  By: WR PEDEN

  Also by WR Peden

  Tripton-Z Series:

  Soldiers of ZED

  Coming Soon:

  Book 2: Aftermath

  NWA Ringside Magazine:

  September 2014

  November 2014

  January 2015

  February 2015

  May 2015

  This is a work of fiction. All of the characters, organizations and events portrayed in this novel are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.

  Soldiers of ZED by WR Peden

  Copyright © 2017 William R Peden II

  Illustrations copyright © 2017 by Will Designs

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial use permitted by copyright law.

  Printed in the United States of America

  www.HawkstarEnt.com/wr-peden

  Special thanks to:

  To my wife and kids for supporting me in my writing and allowing their likenesses to be portrayed.

  To my mom who has supported me in everything I have done no matter what.

  Southern Owl Publications: Crystal Miles Gautheir, Lindsay Johnston and Monna Johnson for editing my book and publication advice

  To Mike Allen for his Flesh Eater donation.

  Chapter 1

  Bullets were cracking all around, deathly growls are heard through the rapid gunfire in a distance. Ear piercing screams ring through a variety of unknown voices. I wake in a very dazed, groggy state in what feels like a familiar location but I do not recognize it. I sit up looking around trying to gather my surroundings. Then it hits me like a Mack truck plowing its way through a crowded street. Where is my family? I look around trying to find any sign of them.

  On a coffee table in a corner of the room, I see what looks like it could be my wallet, keys, and a small pocket knife on the table. So I stand up and stumble to the coffee table still looking around trying to figure out where I am while rubbing my legs due to an unexplained soreness I am feeling through my lower extremities. Out of the corner of my eye, I see a brief glimmer of sunlight so I rush over to the curtains and yank them wide open but I do not believe what I am seeing. As I look out of this thin piece of dirty glass I try to take in the sight of carnage.

  I know I am hearing the distinctive sound of gunfire but as I look I see no active movement only bodies that appear to be decomposing. Blood, body parts and bullet casings cover the bloody-red slush that used to be snow. I have not seen this level of carnage ever in my life including my combat tour to Iraq.

  I try to take in the site of a recent bloody battle; my mind trying to tell me that those decomposing bodies and pieces of flesh are from these mindless creatures. I know zombies are not real, but my oldest daughter Zoey has always told me it is a genuine possibility, more of a possibility than ever before.

  “Zoey! Oh my god, Zoey!” I yell out for her forgetting all the thoughts I was having at the moment while still looking out of the window at the carnage. Without any warning, a head pops up into the window slamming into it sending a crack down the middle about three-quarters up from the bottom. The head is nothing but a casing for the remembrance of a face full of decomposing flesh, a missing eyeball and some of the most jacked-up teeth I have ever seen and I am a redneck! Startled I jump back and look for anything to use because I know that glass isn’t going to last very long. One more solid hit from that thing that... that zombie-like thing outside and I won’t be able to find Zoey, her mom or sister.

  As I look around I immediately think back to some conversations our family has had regarding zombie attacks like those we see on TV and in the movies. We are always scouting places in case this day ever came but how, why, when and most importantly, where am I? As I look around the room I remember the pocket knife on the coffee table so I quickly run over grab the knife and open it up, presenting a small approximately three inch blade, barely sharp enough to open a letter. It isn’t going to do much but as I open it I notice that it has "Haley" engraved on the blade. A tear rolls down my face as Haley is my youngest daughter. She just got this last Christmas from her uncle who was moving to Texas. Haley's has been asking for one for a couple of years but never wanted to learn proper etiquette, safety and general rules. After a year of asking and showing us that she would be taking safety seriously her uncle contacted me for permission to buy her one. Haley was an all around daddy's girl but was also the more likely of the two go one on one with these creatures if push comes to shove. I wouldn't say we had an apocalyptic plan of action in place but through various studies, research and the mainstream media we have all studied evading, hand to dead combat and basic survival skills from my military experience. Fortunately for my family, I had served in the United States Marine Corps and had done a tour overseas so my survival skills were slightly better than the average person. Suddenly a grunt like groaning sound comes out of the undead creature at the window snapping me back into reality.

  I stuff the rest of the items on the coffee table in my pocket just as the undead creature at the window lifts his decomposing arm, flesh falling off as he lifts and swings it at the window smacking it. As soon as his arm makes contact with the flimsy glass, a loud shattering sound echoes in the near distance as the window shatters into hundreds of little shards. I look down at my hand that is holding the pocketknife and knowing I am out of my league, I take off running for the only door in the room. Unfortunately, to get to the door I must go past the window and the room is no bigger than a trailer home living room. I take off for the door and see the decaying, exposed fleshed creature climbing into the window. As I get closer, I see him get hung up on the glass shards sticking out of the window frame but that doesn’t seem to be stopping him from flailing what is left of his arm at me.

  I manage to avoid the thrashing arm, safely making it to the door for now. I quickly jerk the door open and stick my head out, looking like one of the Three Stooges hiding from someone. Unsure of where I am, I look out to the left and see a door at the end that looks like it may go into another room or section of the building. Still not placing how I know this building, I then quickly turn my head to the right and notice that I am in the Superior 9 hotel because of the wide-open area I see down the hall with various rooms on each side. I know the creature will be loose any minute because seriously he isn’t feeling any of his flesh being ripped apart.

  I decide to take my chances and go left out of the room toward the door at the end. Now knowing where I am, and knowing that all hotels have emergency exits, I do now know what the odds are that this door is an exit that will lead me outside. Once outside, I can use my survival skills to try to find help and sneak by these things. I hit the door with force, swinging it wide open slamming it against the brick wall as it swings out. I was correct, and it did lead me outside but I also forgot that it was an alarmed emergency exit. As soon as the door opened a loud siren start
s to blare inside and out of the building. There is also a constant steady buzz coming from the door. I have watched enough movies to know that this can’t be good and as much as I want to believe that no one will hear it, I know I am dead wrong. Within seconds I look down the hall to see a few slow, staggering undead things walking toward the noise. I then hear a loud ear piercing shrill that causes me to lose focus and cover my ears quickly. As I cover my ears, I look around and notice that I am less than seventy-five feet from the main road in this area. Knowing the area of Lebanon fairly well and knowing that the noise from the hotel will be distracting most everything around, I take off running as my current armament is that of a pocket knife. I run across an abnormally empty main road for this side of town to the tire store that sits just across the street. Fortunately for me, the fire alarm that I set off across the road has drawn the attention of the entire, local undead and has caused them all to drift toward the noise.

  Not knowing how much time I have before I am overwhelmed with the undead, I take off to the side of the tire store. From my knowledge of the store, I know the shop is on the west side of the building and the employees occasionally leave the side door unlocked. Heading towards the shop I know many of the tools they carry will come in handy, at least more than Haley’s pocketknife. As I hastily walk down the side of the building, I keep my head on a swivel as I am still uncertain how I got to the hotel, or what exactly is going on. I pass one overhead door and see a man door just past the second overhead.

  I still have no idea what happened, how did I get in the hotel? Where is my family? I try the main door and to my surprise, it is unlocked.

  "Thank goodness for lazy employees." I say out loud looking at the sky.

  Before opening it I look around and see a crowbar lying on the ground. I put Haley's pocket knife away and pick up the crowbar, ready to swing at anything or anyone inside as I slowly open the door.

  “Anyone in here?” I yell, “Not a zombie, just looking for some help. Hello?” I holler out again.

  Hearing no response, I swing the door open all the way trying to let the daylight fill the inside of the garage. I flip the switch on the wall and nothing. “Go figure, no power. That would just be too easy.” I sarcastically blurt out. As I glance around the shop, I see a long black item lying on a workbench, just out of site from the daylight. I think to myself that could be a flashlight. Let’s just hope that it has batteries, and it works.

  Before I walk any further, I take a quick breather. My heart is beating at an ultra-rapid pace and I can feel my pulse in my head. What is going on? Why can I not remember anything? Hell, what day is it? The last thing I remember was Haley, Zoey, my wife Kelly, and I heading to Crocker, Missouri to my grandmother’s house for her annual take down the holiday decorations day. I know this because it was Saturday, and I wanted to watch some of the wild card football games. However, my house is on the opposite side of town, and to get to Crocker I would not have come this way. So how did I get over here? I do not even recall making it to my grandmother’s. Now that I think of it, I don’t remember anything besides my family and I loaded into the truck and starting to drive down the interstate. That’s all that I can remember. My heart has returned to somewhat of a normal beat; well…as normal as you can get when the world around you seems just like a scene out of the David Simpson novel, Zombie Road.

  I carefully move toward the workbench where I saw what I think is a flashlight. As I walk I continue to look around because I have no idea if anyone or anything is in here and I really don’t want to give them a reason to leave the hotel emergency exit alarm to investigate over here! I know that I am nearing what looks to be a tool bench due to the limited lighting as I draw closer. Oh well, just a few more steps.

  “Great a car. Of course, I have to walk around the dark side of the car to get the freaking flashlight. Just my luck”, I say as I bump into it. I take a big breath in and out with an obvious sign of irritation. I begin to walk around the dark side with it virtually impossible for me to see over here, but at least the crowbar I picked up seems to be pretty stout and has a decent weight to it.

  I creep my way past the car and finally reach the table. With the little glimmer of dusk type light that I have I stretch out and of course, the flashlight is just out of reach. I then use the crowbar hook end as an extension of my arm and roll the item into reach, knocking a couple of objects to the ground making a loud noise. I immediately look towards the door and begin thinking, “Please lord, I have no idea what hell you are putting me through but please don’t let those things have heard that.” That object is in my hand, finally something has gone right, it was a flashlight. I push the button and nothing. “Shit” I spurt out. I flip it upside down and notice the end cap is loose. I begin to tighten the bottom up and the light turns on. “Yes! Now let’s see if anything of use is in here.”

  I begin to see various tools, a generator, a first aid kit and various other items you would expect in a normal shop. Before I move, I notice the car that I blindly walked by was on a lift about a foot off of the ground. I squat down to see if anything useful is underneath. Just as I pass the light under, a zombie that I had apparently missed walking blindly by starts to get up. I take the crowbar and swing it at the zombies’ head, making a cracking sound as it connects. The undead freak tries to get back up yet again. This time, I have had enough. Instead of swinging at the decaying bastard, I take the pronged end of the crowbar and begin to jab it directly into the hydraulic line of the lift. After about 2 good whacks, hydraulic fluid shoots out of the holes I just punctured, covering the car as the lift and car slam to the ground directly on top of the zombie.

  “I’ve got to get out of here.” I think to myself. I jolt over to the first aid kit on the wall next to one of the overhead doors and lift it off the wall. I see a pair of coveralls draped over a toolbox, so I grab them as well. I throw the coveralls on the ground, put the first aid kit in the middle of the coveralls, I then begin to open the drawers of the toolbox. I grab a couple of screwdrivers, a few tire patch kits, and a few various other items and put them all next to the first aid kit. I then see a larger bar typically used as leverage to help pry stuck or rusted bolts loose. I grab the bar quickly, not knowing what kind of things await me outside, especially after the loud crashing sound of that car slamming to the ground. I tie all the arms and legs of the coveralls together creating a makeshift hobo’s bag and slide it onto the large breaker bar. I put it over my left shoulder holding it at a higher elevation using my upper body as a pivot point and the flashlight wedged against the bar in my hand so I can still see to get out. I then pick up my crowbar and head towards the door I initially entered.

  I slowly look out to door checking the entire area before stepping out. “Where do I go now,” I think to myself. The fire alarm is still blaring across the street keeping those zombies from noticing me. I am an about a hundred yards away from Interstate 44 in one direction and a couple miles through town back towards my house, but I am not sure if my family is there. “Think, darn it, Think. I need a car to drive until I can hopefully find my truck and try to piece together this whole situation.” I stuff the flashlight into my front pocket the best I can and slowly begin to walk towards the neighboring gas station heading towards I44; at least I know I should be able to find some sort of transportation, as long as I don’t alert any more of the undead.

  I walk near the glass of the convenience store, my makeshift hobo stick on one shoulder, flashlight in my pocket and crowbar in my other hand ready to strike at anything that approaches. As I near the end of the convenience store, I hear a noise coming from around the corner in the alley between the convenience store and the adjacent building. I peek around and see somebody crouched down over top of another that appears to be hurt. I can’t make out what is going on exactly, so I silently set down the bar and raise my crowbar in a striking position as I inch closer. As I close in I see the crouched individual holding the other human in their arms, head
cradled.

  “Hey is everything OK?” I holler. “Do you need any help?” I say again this time a bit louder.

  Just as I finish speaking the crouched person turns towards me, his face decomposed, eyes a dark gloomy red. He snarls at me, blood and piece of flabby skin dangle from his mouth like a piece of fried chicken skin. Then I notice that the individual whose head he is cradling no longer has a neck or throat thanks to the resident cannibal here. He jumps up and rushes at me, but I meet him in the middle with a full-force baseball swing of my crowbar connecting with his face sending his bottom jaw, blood, bone, skin and all flying across the alley. Unfortunately for me, this has only stunned him, without waiting for a second longer I swing again aiming for his head again as I remember Zoey telling me before. Zoey, my fifteen year old zombie enthusiast and self proclaimed expert of the undead is one of the primary reasons I have been as prepared as I am. Zoey is my dark, short haired EMO kid who has a very odd fascination with the dead. Until she began this current and oddly enough, accurately timed obsession, I didn’t believe in zombies and knew that it was never going to happen, but thanks to Zoey I have been somewhat prepared. I do know the best ways to hid or kill zombies at least.

  “If you ever fight a zombie, always aim for the head. They are dead already, but you take their head away and they won’t to be doing anything.”

  As I connect the second time, my hands vibrating from the impact, the cannibalistic creature hits the ground with a thud. I step over his body and whack him a couple more times for good measure and out of fear. After my arm gets tired from swinging the crowbar and the fact that his skull is no more than shreds of bone, I stop and look around trying to make sure I didn’t draw any unneeded attention after ensuring my safety. I walk over to the half-eaten individual and not only was his neck and throat half eaten; it was entirely separated from his body. I reach down checking the pockets of this poor soul feeling bad as I do it. In his front right jean pocket, I find a standard lighter, in which I grab and put it in my pocket. I continue searching the body finding nothing else. I flip him over to see if he has a wallet or anything else that could be helpful.