MZS: New York: A Metropolitan Zombie Survivors Novella

by McAdams, K. D.

  “Is it good news?” I ask.

  “Well, it’s news.”

  “Let’s hear it. I guess.”

  “They think they found the president. There was an order to nuke the major cities, but he revoked it. In forty-eight hours, they are going to quarantine the every large metropolitan area. No one will be allowed in or out once this is done.”

  “Well, that’s good news. The president is alive and making rational decisions, like to not destroy major population centers.”

  “No one I trust can authenticate the message. It may not be the president or they may still be planning the nukes and just want people to stay calm,” Terri says.

  “That’s not a message to stay calm,” I point out. “If anything, it gets a whole bunch of survivors moving. Maybe we can find a caravan and latch on to a bigger group.”

  “I don’t like it. If that was the plan, they should have told us to cluster around survivors. Do you really think there isn’t a hospital, army base or housing complex that locked itself down and is shielding a sizable number of people?”

  “This is going to sound judgey, but I don’t really know you,” I say. “How would you know someone that is qualified to authenticate a message from the president?”

  “Asking questions: congratulations, you’ve picked up a new skill,” Terri says sarcastically. “You’re going to have to start asking more questions, and they need to get harder.”

  “Yes, sensei. Are you like a White House correspondent?” I ask.

  “Actually, I’m a professional forum moderator.”

  “Like online shit? This gives you the contacts to judge presidential communiqués?”

  “My specialty is the prepper community, and you might be surprised at how many government staffers are serious preppers,” Terri says.

  “So, you’re a prepper? Do you have, like, a go bag and a bug-out plan?” It would really help if someone here were prepared.

  “I’m not a prepper,” Terri says. “I’m the room mother for their online forums. I do have a go bag, but I kind of made a joke of it and stuffed it with chargers and USB memory sticks. Look, to use Tucker’s words, you guys seem solid. What you did for that kid was great. I have a few options for safe harbor and you’re all welcome to join me. Assuming I’m welcome to join you in the Humvee.”

  From next door: “Yip, yip. BARK!” the cries of a little dog punctuate the air.

  “Stupid Pebbles. Tucker, my keys are on the hook by the door. The one with the red cover is for the place next door. Will you go get Pebbles and bring him back here?”

  “Sure.” Tucker is playing house again, happily running errands for the missus.

  I turn back to the task at hand. “Where are these choices?” I ask.

  “The two worth considering are in Mexico and New Mexico, but those seem unreasonably far. There’s a sketch one in Oklahoma and another potential one that is also in the south. I think we should make a plan for Mexico, and if we hit something good before that, we can choose to stay,” Terri says, leaning back from her computer.

  “The one in Mexico is reliable and safe?”

  “I think so. It’s a newer group to my forums, but I haven’t caught them in anything shady. Like I said, I have several government contacts and I do a fair bit of digging on people who show up new and start building a name for themselves.”

  The idea that we have to be afraid of living humans bothers me, a lot. I get the idea of looters and rabble-rousers: mostly selfish man-children bent on taking regardless of what it is. What flies over my head are the groups who would jump on this to impose their vision of what the country should be.

  Todd comes out of the bathroom with wet hair but the same disgusting clothes he’s been wearing.

  When I left my apartment yesterday, I thought about a rack of beers and getting to Tucker’s. I never thought about clothes or what I would wear after a day on the run. Looks like Todd didn’t, either.

  In the tight space of the bathroom, I can smell myself in contrast to the floral scents of soap and shampoo that fill the humid air. Aches and pains are more pronounced than even a few minutes ago.

  Picking at the duct tape covering the armor on my arms reveals my latest hurdle. I throw my head back in frustration. I can damage the armor or take forever getting it off.

  In most cases, I would just tear it off, but I’ve grown fond of it. There’s no doubt in my mind that it’s saved me at least twice. I don’t want to struggle with it, but I just want to get in the shower.

  Right on top of the sink is a steak knife. Has to be from Todd.

  I use the knife to cut the armor off my arms and then reach down to my legs. The right side armor comes off easily, but I have to search for the seam on the left side.

  A tiny bloody fingerprint catches my eye. Between teardrops, I slide the tip of the knife into the seam and slice carefully. I start to sob silently and the tears just won’t stop.

  Maya, her name was Maya.

  McLean

  Chapter 11

  After what I’ve seen today, I needed to walk in on this: Jaden, sound asleep in a pile of pillows, with a tiny dog curled up against his chest. It’s the most adorable thing I’ve ever seen.

  Todd is sitting at the table, nursing a beer. Patrick is not in the room and I can only assume he’s taking his turn in the shower. Terri is glued to a screen, typing furiously.

  Behind me, Cupcake is carrying a tray of food and drinks from my apartment. Personally I’m starving, but I just don’t feel like eating.

  Part of me feels like we should analyze what went down with Isaiah and Maya. The other part of me does not want to ever think about what happened today.

  “We need to stay here tonight. Any word on the nukes?” I ask the room.

  “The nuke plan was supposedly canceled. They’re putting a quarantine line across the northeast from D.C. through Pittsburg, and ending in Cleveland at the lake. Pittsburg and Cleveland are in the zone, while D.C. is technically out of it. My contacts think it’s mostly symbolic, but there is a rumor of a bunch of survivors holed up in the Capitol building.”

  “Holy shit.” Tucker adds softly.

  “Well, it seems unrealistic,” Todd says. “What are they going to do, put up a fence? Anyone want to sign up for that job?” He is not just going with the flow.

  “Maybe some politician figured out a way to make nuke-and-quarantine synonyms,” Cupcake says. “They’re saying ‘quarantine,’ but they mean ‘destroy with nuclear weapons.’” He also doesn’t believe we’re safe for now.

  Terri is just hoovering up information. The guys knee-jerk to almost everything they hear. Going across the street kind of messed up my planning, but the end goal still feels sound: head south.

  “We should be able to get south of D. C. in an average day’s drive,” I say. Time to start nudging them toward my plan.

  “Yeah, lets hop in the funnel and see where it spits us out. Blindly following directions is the perfect way to get through this,” Todd says, critical and sarcastic.

  I should have known better. The knee-jerk reaction to heading south is “stay put,” or worse, “head north.”

  Looking around, the room feels comfortable and safe. I remember back to last summer when a few of us rented a cabin on the lake. It rained hard for two days and we were stuck inside. Those days were more fun than the ones filled with sun, swimming and canoeing. Right now, it feels like we’re waiting out the rain.

  “You’re right. Let’s walk through what it would be like to stay put. Starting tomorrow, we can organize supply runs. Teams of three will head to the closest bodega and gather canned and dry food. We can probably wait a week before we need water,” I suggest, but I don’t really mean it. Maybe I can get them to disagree, to react into leaving with me.

  “Yeah. This floor is secured. The stairwell is basically safe and I could use to lose a few pounds,” Cupcake says. “Maybe we go on rations, skip showers and mellow yellow. I can see us lasting weeks.” He has mad
e the “huge” leap of looking ahead weeks.

  “I am not going on any kind of runs,” Terri says flatly. “If you are seriously willing to consider rolling the dice on getting nuked, you can get the fuck out of my apartment. I’ll find another group of survivors to team up with.” She clearly is not the political type.

  “I say we do the opposite of what they want,” Todd says. “Let’s head north, maybe the zombies can’t live in the cold.” He thinks he’s throwing a curveball, but I know he didn’t think it through; it’s just contrary thinking.

  “That’s brilliant. Not only would we need to scrounge for food, we’d also have to find heat,” I say. “Stop being an asshole.”

  Patrick comes out of the bathroom with his hair dripping, holding onto the wine boxes he was wearing earlier. Rather than say anything, he just listens. I like that.

  Cupcake interjects: “Let’s stay civil. If we put our heads together, I’m sure we can come up with something reasonable for all of us.” He’s looking for balance.

  “Just use your head for something other than feeding a zombie,” Terri snaps. “We’re heading south. The question is what route and what destination.” She has a lovable way of making you feel like a fool.

  “Have you found any survivor groups north of D.C.?” I ask her. “I think there’s safety in numbers.” I hope she answers yes.

  The only route south that I know well is through the cities. From New York to Philly, and then down to D.C. I’ve actually made that drive several times to see different pieces of art. If nukes are still a possibility, maybe we should look for a more rural route.

  Patrick has a look of confusion on his face. I get the impression that he knows something we don’t, but I’m not sure why he would keep a secret.

  “There was some Philly chatter last night, but it was pretty disorganized. They’ve been quiet for almost sixteen hours. Other than that, the only consistent messages have been from D.C. itself,” Terri says.

  “No fucking way am I going into the lion’s den,” Todd says. “When this is all over, I bet you a million dollars the government did something to start it.” God, Todd doesn’t know what he wants, but he’ll disagree with anything.

  Tucker has not added anything to the conversation. He’s standing by the window, staring down at the street. It would be kind of an awesome surprise if he turned around with an amazing idea to save the day, but I don’t really see that happening.

  “So, you’ve never banged a cute chick you didn’t really like?” Terri quizzes Todd.

  “What the fuck is that supposed to mean?” Todd answers, defensive

  “It means we don’t have to like them to use them for what we need,” Terri says. She turns from her screen and studies the room. She’s shrewd, oddly likable and very assertive.

  When her eyes get to Patrick, they lock and the two exchange a look. If we have people keeping secrets, it will tear this group apart. Do I expose them now or wait and see if it turns out to be insignificant?

  “There’s a group in Mexico that has offered me sanctuary,” Terri finally says. “When I let them know I wasn’t alone, they said I could bring anyone I could vouch for.” Terri doesn’t stop looking at Patrick and his look has completely softened. “I would vouch for each of you without question,” she says.

  “Then why are we debating? We leave for Mexico in the morning,” Todd says, jumping in feet first, without thinking.

  My adrenaline is gone, my heart rate is finally normal again. Exhaustion hits me. I flop down into an insanely comfortable chair. No more debating, no more planning. I can see why these guys like to take things one step at a time. Getting people to agree is almost impossible and it takes so much energy.

  “The internet says we can be in Kentucky in less than twelve hours,” Terri continues. “That assumes no burned-out cars, zombie hordes or nuclear bombs. D.C. is not halfway, but there are survivors, and we could stop and rest and resupply. Then we leave D.C. at first light and we drive until there is an hour of daylight left. If we bump into a good group of survivors, we stay put.” She lays out her thinking, and it’s reasonable to me.

  God I hope Todd stops arguing and we can just go to sleep knowing we have a plan. The guys have to be at least as tired as I am. Terri could probably argue all night if she wanted to.

  Patrick comes over and sits on the floor in front of my chair. He leans back and I can see his shoulders rise and fall in a sigh. Today was my first full day of hell, but it was his second. I wonder how many days of this we can mentally survive before we just give up.

  “Screw that. We’re trying to avoid cities, remember?” Todd is not going to let me rest. “Use your internet to map out a route through, like, West Virginia or something. I’ve driven to Indiana enough times to know that once you leave any one of the east coast metropolitan areas, it’s farms and pasture almost the whole way.”

  Terri spins back to her computer. She didn’t argue with him immediately, so it may be a good idea. We should be able to scavenge enough supplies to make it two days. Even if we have to spend one night in the Humvee, it seems like small price to pay for getting to safety.

  She types and reads and types and reads. From the looks of things, everyone is crashing. Tucker has sunk to the floor in front of the window and Cupcake has gradually increased his sprawl on the chair at the table.

  Of course, Todd has to be contrary; he gets out of his seat. I watch him as he walks to the pillow bed where Jaden is asleep. If he wakes that little boy, I may snap and fucking kill him.

  Reminding me of the soft side I saw in the apartment across the street, Todd lays down beside Jaden and carefully gets close without touching or disturbing him. He’s argumentative and rough, but Todd has taken on this little boy and is willing to use his body to protect him from any harm that may come.

  If Terri doesn’t speak soon, we may all be asleep when she does.

  I startle a little when she starts talking: “Through the country was a good idea. We can do Morgantown, West Virginia, in about six hours, and then it’s less than eight to Nashville. But we have a new choice.” She lets this sink in before continuing.

  None of us have the energy to ask a question. Tucker is already asleep and Cupcake’s blinks are lasting minutes.

  “The Philly group is back online, and they have good news,” she says, finally sharing her messages. “They’ve secured most of the city. They are holding a survivor’s rally tomorrow at noon in Liberty Bell square. There’s no way the government nukes a survivor’s rally. I say we go and take advantage of strength in numbers.”

  Tucker does not react.

  “I could use a cheesesteak,” Patrick answers. I assume that means he agrees.

  “Maybe they would run helicopter evacuations if there are enough people and it’s secure. I agree on Philadelphia,” I say, trying to make my justification clear.

  Cupcake slowly raises his right hand and sticks his thumb up. His eyes never open.

  What do we do if Todd disagrees? Leave him?

  “Bad idea.” Todd looks at Jaden before he continues. “But Cupcake’s rig, Cupcake’s rules. I’m going with the Humvee.”

  I haven’t regained confidence in my ability to read people. Jason still pops into my head and teases me from time to time. Still, if I go by just the actions of this small group, they are the good guys.

  We can argue, debate and complain, but at the end of the day we come together and do the right thing. I’m lucky to be here, and lucky that they are letting me join them.

  “I guess we’re going to Philly,” Terri says, putting a cap on the discussion.

  “Viva,” Tucker mumbles from the window.

  “Viva,” we answer in unison.

  The Metropolitan Zombie Survivors Series

  Author Note

  Thank you for reading. The MZS Series was a fun story to write. I’ve always enjoyed stories about unlikely hero’s and the underdog winning. Hopefully you have also enjoyed this story.

  If you
have time to write a review it is greatly appreciated. Your input will be read and taken seriously, it is the best way for me to improve my prose and plot. Reviews are important for writers and readers in that they help people to connect with the books and authors they will enjoy.

  Review MZS: New York on Amazon

  Review MZS: New York on Goodreads

  I have been helped and humbled by the support, feedback and encouragement of so many people. To share your thoughts with me directly please send a note to kd@kd-mcadams.com. Engaging with readers is a true joy and influences my writing and my stories.

  Connect with K. D. McAdams online:

  http://kd-mcadams.com

  Sign up for my newsletter to learn about new releases:

  http://kd-mcadams.com/newsletter/

  Twitter:

  @K_McAdams

  Email:

  kd@kd-mcadams.com

  About the Author

  K. D. McAdams is a write at home dad of three, adoptive dad of two and happy husband of one. K. D. writes stories about people who rely on their instincts as well as their intellect. The goal of his writing and publishing efforts is to inspire others to pursue things that they find interesting.