Homecoming
Z-Plan Book Three
Mikhail Lerma
A PERMUTED PRESS BOOK
Published at Smashwords
ISBN: 978-1-61868-534
ISBN (eBook): 978-1-61868-527
HOMECOMING
Z-Plan Book 3
© 2015 by Mikhail Lerma
All Rights Reserved
Cover art by Christian Bentulan
This book is a work of fiction. People, places, events, and situations are the product of the author's imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or historical events, is purely coincidental.
No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted by any means without the written permission of the author and publisher.
Permuted Press
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Franklin, TN 37067
http://permutedpress.com
For my mother, whose presence I feel every day.
TABLE OF CONTENTS
Part I - Hope
Homecoming
Run Away
Heed My Warning
Privately Owned
The Prepper’s Diary
Plan Of Action
In Charge
Reconcile
Exactly What He Deserved
Greater Dangers
Bad News
Underground
Needs Of The Few
Needs Of One
Town Of The Dead
It’s A Fucking Trap
Evolution Of The Dead
Part II - Human Nature
The Creeper
Already Dead
A Reason To Celebrate
Death Clock
Viral
One Horse Two Riders
Hades Followed Him
Familiar Faces
Killer, Thief, Survivor
A Fellow Soldier And The Not-So-Fiction Writer
Journal Of The Undead
You Will Find Her
A Familiar Place
A Nice Man
Part III - Home
Shoot Out At The Kiddie Corral
Freedom Runner 2
Tornado Alley
The Good Life
Smilin’ Sam Smoke
Tristan And Jacob
A Funny Turtle
A Special Bond
Back In The Game
Preston
Welcoming Committee
Reunion
The Message
Note From The Author
About The Author
Part I
Hope
“Remember, hope is a good thing, maybe the best of things, and no good thing ever dies.”
— Stephen King
Chapter 1
HOMECOMING
Cale shivered in the autumn air. The screams and shouts of other survivors could barely be heard over the waves crashing against the shore. He stood in shock staring out at the plane’s wreckage in the water. A plume of smoke rose up where the aircraft’s fuel and spilled and caught fire. Cale couldn’t help but wonder how much luck he had left. He spotted another survivor crawling up the beach and out of the water.
Cale ran over to assist but realized something was wrong when he was just a few feet away. This survivor wasn’t a survivor at all. He was bloated and waterlogged—at least Cale thought it was a “he”—it very well could have been a woman. It was hard to tell with the blue green skin. The ribcage was exposed and had various aquatic flora growing within the intercostal spaces. The creature couldn’t even see due to its swollen face. Every time it went to open its mouth and moan, seawater spewed out. Just a few feet away another grotesque creature began to claw its way out of the ocean. This one was just as bloated as the first. A piece of its arm had been chewed off. By a shark perhaps. Through its one good eye, it could see Cale. It intended to growl at him but water erupted instead.
“Oh shit!” Cale exclaimed as it began to crawl toward him at a pace he hadn’t expected.
It attempted to raise itself up on its stump but only succeeded at getting a mouthful of beach. Cale back peddled away from the thing and to a safe distance. The adrenaline was beginning to wear off. Cale could feel pain in his shoulder and along his flank. He hoped his ribs were only bruised and not broken.
“Hey! Over here!” someone shouted.
Cale turned to see Staff Sergeant Curtis toward the south. He was with a small group of fellow survivors.
“Is that Cale?” he could hear someone ask.
Curtis looked to the man then back to Cale.
“Cale, get your ass over here!” he shouted.
Cale left the two undead on the beach and ran to the group. Like him they were soaked and covered in scrapes and bruises but lucky to be alive. One of them, a woman, was being propped up by a fellow soldier. He joined them as their eleventh member.
“Is this everybody?” someone asked. “It can’t be everyone.”
His name was Dylan. He had a small laceration above his left eye, and what looked like a scrape down his face.
“Relax,” ordered Curtis. “We can’t stay here. QRF will come looking for survivors and the water is filled with those things.”
Other than a small cut through his clothes and no bleeding Curtis appeared fine. None of them disagreed. Curtis pulled out what was left of his aerial map of the airbase. The paper was stuck together and ripped at the edges but Curtis was able to save the bulk of the image.
“If I had to guess I’d say we were only a few miles away from the airstrip. We’ll head there, and if there are any other survivors, they’ll be sure to do the same,” SSG Curtis explained.
More of the undead began to wash up onto the shore. Among them were the casualties of the flight, those fortunate enough to live through the crash but unfortunately fell victim to the hazards within the water. The members of the group realized the danger they were in. None of them had their firearms.
“Oh shit,” Ballard exclaimed. “Does anyone have a weapon?”
“I’ve got my knife,” answered Cale.
Ballard produced his combat tomahawk. Out of the eleven, only four of them were armed. SSG Curtis had his bayonet blade and Petty Officer Third Class Grey had her collapsible metal baton.
“We’ll make do with what we have,” said Curtis. “Stay close, everyone.”
The ten of them followed their leader toward the wood line, cautiously scanning the trees for unseen dangers. Cale could see his breath as he shivered. He’d spent an entire year getting acclimated to a desert environment, now he would be forced to adjust back to colder weather. Just before they reached the trees, Curtis stopped them. He turned his head slightly as if he were listening to something.
“Is there something wrong?” a seaman asked him.
“Does anyone else hear that?” he asked.
Cale strained to hear over the ocean and the moans of the undead crawling up the beach like a herd of sea turtles preparing to lay their eggs.
“I don’t hear anything,” confessed Ballard.
“Give it a second,” Curtis raised his hand in a gesture to silence the soldier.
Cale was beginning to hear something else. It was a hum. Like a model plane engine.
“There!” Grey shouted as she pointed up into the sky.
“Fuck,” Cale thought to himself.
It was a medium-sized white aircraft. Everyone knew what it was. It was a drone. Someone had sent it to search for survivors and they’d found them.
“Go!” Curtis shouted. “Get into the trees!”
The eleven of them burst into a mad dash for concealment. As the trees zipped by Cale could see his comrades also running. Up ahead
he could see Zach standing by a tree.
“Slow down!” he urged.
Cale continued to run past him. Behind him, he heard a shout. He slowed and stopped. Someone was in trouble. Cale tried to pinpoint where the shouting came from as the others continued to run past him. A man continued to shout.
“Don’t,” Zach’s voice echoed in his head.
Cale began to go back for the man. He circled around the trunk of a larger tree and there he was. It was Airman Young. Crimson was splashed on the forest floor and dripped from the bark of the trees. Young had run into a mob of undead. He struggled with his attackers but it was too late. His frantic eyes locked with Cale’s.
“Hel-help-me,” he choked.
But there was nothing he could do. Young’s eyes searched his for any kind of mercy.
“I’m sorry,” Cale mouthed silently.
“No…No!” Young shouted.
Behind Cale, more screams erupted. The woods were filled with undead. Cale could now see multiple figures moving between trees and foliage. He looked one more time at Young before leaving. The look of fear in Young’s eyes had been replaced with anger. Cale didn’t blame him as he ran away from the scene.
Trees were once again flying past. In between, he caught glances of undead. More screams filled the air. Someone else had been apprehended by them. Cale ran past another feeding mass of infected. He couldn’t see who it was. But she was screaming in agony. Again, there was nothing he could do but keep moving. Her final act would be a distraction for him. Cale carefully watched his step as he ran. He didn’t want to be tripped up by tree roots or stumble in a hole or an uneven surface. The cold air burned his lungs. His wet clothes began to steam due to him exerting himself. Leaves crunched under his boots. He’d found a path of some kind, perhaps an old hiking trail. The vegetation had all but covered it now. Cale followed the path because it offered the least resistance. Up ahead two undead flanked the trail on both sides. They hadn’t noticed him yet. Cale increased his speed and firmed up his body to barrel through them, and knock them down. Both infected slammed into the ground completely unprepared for Cale’s attack. He ignored their moans of rage and continued down the path as it curved. After the curve, the path opened up onto a scenic lookout and a paved road. He stopped, unsure of where to go.
“Stay off the road,” Zach told him.
“I know,” answered Cale. “I don’t want to be caught in the open.”
Cale crossed the paved road and continued west. He scurried up the hill and back into the forest.
“Hey! Wait for me!
Cale slowed to see who was talking to him.
“Please! Don’t leave!” someone shouted from the road.
It was Dylan. He looked flustered but uninjured.
“Hurry up!” Cale shouted to him.
Dylan didn’t have a weapon. He took his time walking across the road. He was clearly out of breath.
“Hurry!” Cale yelled at him again.
“They didn’t follow me,” Dylan wheezed.
Dylan however was mistaken. The infected began to filter through the tree line and onto the road. Some of them were coming down the hiking path.
“They’re right behind you!” screamed Cale.
Dylan didn’t look back, he just ran at the hill. He was slightly smaller than Cale and one would assume more nimble but he took three attempts to begin a good climb up the hill.
“God damn it! Hurry up!” frantically yelled Cale.
“Just leave him,” a voice in his head suggested.
He ignored the voice and continued to coach the man.
“Grab the root right there,” he pointed.
Dylan did as he was told and reached the precipice. A dozen undead stood on the road ten feet below them. An up armored vehicle surged through them from the south. A soldier behind the mounted M249 started to cut through the group. Two soldiers from the back seat doors and one from the passenger seat jumped out and began shooting. Cale paused for a moment. He wondered if there was something wrong with his hearing before realizing these soldiers were using suppressors. They were in full combat uniform, full Interceptor Body Armor and Kevlar. Each of them wore the full set of attachments for the IBA. Cale was unable to see their unit patches. The undead proved no match for them.
“Hey!” Dylan called to them. “Up here!” he waved.
Cale cursed the man’s stupidity. One of the soldiers took notice.
“Stay where you are!” he ordered.
“Cool. Okay,” Dylan replied. “Yeah.”
All of them oriented their weapons at them now. Cale held his breath as the soldier sitting behind the M249 rotated her turret to face them. One of the other soldiers keyed the radio attached to his vest.
“Defender One this is Mad Max Three, we have two of them in sight on route seven-seven right now, Over.”
They stood in silence waiting for a reply.
“Guys we’re all on the same team here,” bargained Dylan.
“Shut up!” the woman yelled at him from her turret.
The radio crackled. “Roger Three. Standing orders are still in effect. Terminate any invading forces.”
“Invading?” Dylan shouted.
“Roger. Mad Max Three Out,” the man answered.
Cale had already begun to run before the man terminated his transmission. Dylan stood in place, still hoping to convince them.
“But we’re American!” he stated before being shot.
“Where’d the other one go?” one of them shouted.
“Get up there and kill him!” the man with the radio ordered.
The two soldiers who’d sat in the back clumsily climbed the hill. Their armor slowed them down, but once up the hill they stood over Dylan. He writhed in pain but the gunshot wound to his throat kept him from expressing it audibly. The barrel of a rifle was placed up against his forehead.
“Don…don’t,” he struggled to say.
He’d come so far only to have a bullet fired through his brain. The two soldiers looked up and scanned the trees for the man’s companion.
“There!” one of them yelled spotting Cale weave between trees.
The two of them opened fire. Cale was startled when the wood sprayed through the air next to him. He couldn’t hear them firing but he could tell when the rounds impacted.
“Fuck-fuck-fuck,” Cale hissed as he zigzagged through the forest.
He kept his profile small as he fled. The man and woman pursuing him had a hard time keeping up. Their body armor was so bulky it slowed them down. Cale could hear a round tear through the leaves above him. They were firing wildly now, hoping to get a lucky hit. He’d become so concerned with escaping the living he ran headlong into an infected. Together they rolled across the ground. Cale was the first to recover and quickly moved back from the undead man. From his attire, he could tell that the man had once been military. He wore a set of marine fatigues. An empty sheath where he’d once had a knife was still attached to his hip. His dog tags clanged as he up righted himself. His face had been badly bitten. The rest of his body was a victim of decomposition. Behind Cale, a twig snapped. Cale discovered another infected was closing in on him.
Just as he’d pulled out his knife, the undead behind him pushed him to the ground. Cale dropped the knife and rolled to his back. The second undead was an obese man in coveralls. His face was indistinguishable other than his teeth, which snapped fiercely. Cale rolled to the side as the full weight of the man closed in. The undead marine tripped over Cale awkwardly and landed across his body. He struggled to free himself as the undead hillbilly attempted to push himself up on broken arms. Cale pushed the marine to the side and crawled away. The marine had recovered quickly and grabbed Cale’s boot. Frantically Cale ran his hands through the leaves and underbrush for anything to fight them off. He kicked at the marine as he did so. The hillbilly was standing again and shambling toward Cale. His arms were bent at an abnormal place, halfway down his forearms. The broken appendages swayed
grotesquely. He attempted to throw himself on his prey once more. Cale lay back and readied his legs for the man’s weight. He grunted as he dropped the man to the side. His hands had found something solid and Cale rolled on top of the fat undead and began striking its face with the object. After a half dozen blows the creature’s brain spilled onto the dirt.
Cale found his knife right next to the man’s head and reclaimed it. He stood just in time to meet the marine. He struck the reanimated man with the large stone he’d found. It fell to the ground and Cale quickly ended its existence.
“See anything over there?” he heard a woman shout.
The QRF team was right on top of him. Quickly, Cale formulated a plan
Chapter 2
RUN AWAY
“Nothing over here!” replied the man.
PFC Maren was winded and sweaty. He clutched his M4 tightly. He stood over a brutal scene. Three bodies lay before him. It looked like two service men had been attacked by the fat man. An engagement that produced no winners. Maybe there’d been a third service member? Both the soldier and the marine had their brains exposed. Entrails were strewn about, mostly covering the soldier.
“Sorry about your luck,” he said to their corpses as he turned to rejoin the search for the plane’s survivor.
Something behind him made a sound, but before he could turn around he felt a pressure in the back of his neck. Just below his skull. He could taste blood and he couldn’t move. What was happening to him? He didn’t know why he couldn’t breath. For some odd reason though he was at peace. There was no pain. He was numb and he couldn’t feel his legs. Maren fell forward and impacted the ground.
* * *
Cale removed the knife from the back of Maren’s neck. He didn’t know it, but he’d severed the soldier’s C2 and C3 vertebra. He wiped the bloodied blade off on the man’s clothes. Cale couldn’t believe he’d just “played dead.” He wasn’t sure what had possessed him to scoop out the hillbilly’s brains, slather them across his head, gut the marine, and wear the entrails. All he knew was that it had worked. Cale took the man’s rifle, then rummaged through his ammunition pouches quickly. More undead lurked in the area. He found a pack of cigarettes and tossed them aside. He carried more than the usual combat load. Their standard issue must have changed here at home. Cale stuffed his pockets with the full magazines. He rolled the soldier to the side and retrieved the rifle.
Z Plan (Book 3): Homecoming Page 1
