Dying Days: Origins 2

by Armand Rosamilia

  Dying Days: Origins 2

  Armand Rosamilia

  Edited by Jenny Adams

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying or recording or by any information storage and retrieval systems, without expressed written consent of the author and/or artists

  This book is a work of fiction. Names characters, places and incidents are products of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual events or persons, living, dead or undead, is entirely coincidental.

  All stories copyright 2014 by Armand Rosamilia

  Cover Illustration copyright 2014 by Ash Arceneaux www.asharceneaux.deviantart.com

  First printing November 2014

  armandrosamilia@gmail.com

  http://rymfirebooks.com

  Special Thanks to a bunch of people this time around…

  First, I’d like to thank the support of the real David Monsour for letting me use his name and write a kick-ass character… not really too different from the real guy!

  The Zombie Beta Readers, who made this an even tighter book: Kevin Baker, Pheebz Petenstine, Vix Kirkpatrick, Kelly Rikard and Fiona Mackenzie… thank you!

  Shelly, who keeps me grounded and keeps me moving forward!

  The Extreme Undead series from Armand Rosamilia

  Highway To Hell

  Darlene Bobich: Zombie Killer

  Dying Days

  Dying Days 2

  Dying Shortly (2 shorts)

  Dying Shortly Volume 2 (2 shorts)

  Extreme Undead Collection (Highway To Hell/Darlene Bobich: Zombie Killer/Dying Days/Zombie Tea Party 4-in-1 box set)

  Still Dying: Select Scenes From Dying Days

  Still Dying 2 anthology

  Dying Days Collection (Darlene Bobich: Zombie Killer/Dying Days/Dying Days 2/Still Dying 4-in-1 box set)

  Dying Days 3

  Dying Days: Origins 2

  Dying Days 4

  Dying Days 5 (coming soon)

  Hell’s Bells: Highway To Hell 2 (coming soon)

  Dying Days: Origins 2

  Armand Rosamilia

  Chapter One

  Cheryl jumped at the slamming of the front door, immediately sliding out of bed and gripping the Colt .45 on her end table. David wasn't in bed next to her and she tried not to panic. They'd been over this a hundred times, and it always ended in something stupid like David being too loud or a wandering animal setting off a perimeter alarm.

  Someone was coming up the steps. Cheryl got into her shooting stance, dropping next to the bed to give as small a target as possible and getting ready to shoot.

  "Cheryl, I'm walking," she heard David call.

  She relaxed. I'm walking was their code for everything being alright. If he'd said I'm coming up, she would have killed anyone coming into the room. It was as simple as that.

  When he entered the room, he wasn't smiling. He wore his Army fatigues and his own Colt .45 was in hand. "It's happening."

  * * * * *

  David had the Ford F-150 SVT Raptor already loaded. He tossed their bug out bags in the front seat. "Is everything locked up?"

  "Of course." Cheryl slid into the passenger seat. "Your parents are already on the move." She loaded the coordinates in the GPS and turned on the other devices mounted to the dashboard. "I'm tracking them now."

  "Your parents?"

  Cheryl looked distraught. "They aren't answering their SpecPhone."

  David shook his head. "They probably didn’t bother to keep it charged or change the batteries." He started the Raptor. "Is their car moving?" David had installed a tracking device on their car last Thanksgiving even after they'd told the couple not to. Cheryl's parents didn't buy into the apocalypse prepping and thought David was kind of strange, but he treated their daughter well and that was all they cared about, according to Cheryl.

  His Army training (he was an M.P.) had carried with him even after his tours had ended, and a stint as security police in the Air Force finished off his career but not his need to get ready for the end.

  "It's really here?" Cheryl said through clenched teeth.

  "Yes. I'd been monitoring the police bands this morning while watching SportsCenter. It all happened so quickly, like a tidal wave across Canada and the U.S."

  "Canada?"

  David glanced at her as he drove through quiet side streets. "We should be safe. I didn't hear anything about Thunder Bay." The couple had built an underground bunker over the border in Canada two years ago, and spent the last two summers prepping and training. They had enough room for them and their parents and enough food and supplies to last for a year. It was a six hour ride in normal conditions, but David knew it would take much longer if the problem had spread even more. "We need to tune into the police and military bands."

  Cheryl went to work, trying to find information.

  "You didn't even bother asking what was going on," David asked her as she tuned into the Hastings police radio band and heard nothing.

  "Something bad," she said with a humorless laugh. "We've trained for this and what's the biggest thing? Not losing your head and keeping calm."

  "Zombies."

  "No shit?" Cheryl found another band, this one emanating from Canada. "Thank God we learned French."

  David's SpecPhone rang and he used the BlueTooth to answer it. "Hey, dad. We're monitoring you and should hookup within the next ten minutes." David frowned. "Already?" He turned to Cheryl. "There are attacks in the area already. This is spreading pretty quickly. My parents aren't able to head north. The roads are already closing." They picked a secondary meeting spot, further west.

  "I think we're in trouble, too. According to the Mountie band, all roads into Canada are being shut off. They're trying to contain it and keep it from jumping the border, but it might be too late." Cheryl shook her head.

  David gripped the steering wheel and sighed. This is all happening too quickly. All of my projections were wrong. "I somehow thought I'd be ahead of this."

  "How could you know?"

  David shrugged. "I've been waiting for this my entire adult life. Hell, I thought about this as a kid. We're prepared and it took all of an hour to get mobile and get the truck loaded."

  "It would've been quicker if you'd have woken me up earlier," Cheryl said with a hint of annoyance.

  "You looked so peaceful," David said and smiled at her. She didn't return it.

  "We've planned and planned this."

  "I know. But we already had all the cases in the garage ready to go and it would've taken longer to come upstairs, wake you and then get back into the garage. From the time I heard the news until we left, it was really forty-nine minutes." David slowed down at an intersection backed up with cars. He stopped and backed up, shooting down a side street. "I had the truck done in less than ten minutes."

  "Together we did it in eight." Cheryl looked at the GPS system. "You're heading down a dead end."

  "There's a park up ahead. I can cut through and get onto another road." David turned to her again. "Sorry."

  Cheryl laughed. "Don't be sorry. Just get us out of the city and hook up with our parents." She took the SpecPhone from her husband and dialed her parents. "No answer," she said after a minute.

  David pulled into the parking lot of the small park and jumped the curb. He cruised past the empty swing sets and slide. "I just wanted another excuse to go off-road."

  Cheryl held up her cell phone. "No signal already."

  The Ford Raptor bounced the curb and they were on a quiet side street. At the next intersection, David steered onto the sidewalk and went around stopped traffic.

  "The power is out." David didn't want to p
anic but he was close. By his worst estimate, they should've been out of Hastings already. Instead they were still moving street to street. In every scenario they'd gone through getting a jump on traffic and getting out of town and north was the easy part. Now they were heading west, away from their ultimate destination, and into the unknown.

  Cheryl looked frantic as she went back to the SpecPhone. "Their car hasn't moved. What does that mean?"

  David knew what it probably meant. "Call my parents back and see where they are." He didn't want to waste any more time but knew leaving Minnesota without their four parents wasn't an option. "We'll swing over to your parents and grab them. It's actually almost on the way." It was about twenty miles out of the way but David bit his tongue.

  * * * * *

  The Ford Raptor was the perfect vehicle as David ate up the miles slowly, driving over lawns, crashing through a couple of fences, and pushing an abandoned car slowly out of the way. But it was taking too long and Cheryl was getting antsy.

  "Call them again," he said as he backed up and rode the sidewalk at the next intersection and the latest traffic jam. The main roads were clogged and the side streets were now packed with parked cars.

  "They aren't answering," Cheryl said with a hitch in her voice. Her parent's car hadn't moved and David's parent's car seemed to be moving steadily away from them, according to the GPS tracking devices. "I'm going to plug the TV in."

  "Good idea." The police bands were either silent or a cacophony of screaming people, neither of which was helpful. David was driving over more front lawns and through more gates than asphalt. They needed to come up with another plan, but he was blank.

  Cheryl had climbed into the backseat and fed him the power cord to the portable television. He plugged it into the cigarette lighter.

  So far they'd only encountered living people but for all David knew, they might be heading into a horde of the dead. He felt like he was simply driving randomly and wasting their gas.

  "Wow. Pull over," Cheryl said quietly. "You have to see Minneapolis."

  David backed into someone's driveway and cut the engine to save fuel, using the auxiliary power to keep the TV on. He helped her move it to the front and Cheryl slid back into the passenger seat.

  The small eighteen inch screen showed a city ablaze, a shot from a news helicopter. When they went in for a tighter shot on the ground, there were dozens of bloody and ragged people stumbling down a road in pursuit of running people.

  "They seem to be slow, which is in our favor. As long as a large group doesn't surround us, we should be able to get away if need be. We'll conserve our ammo and use the machetes whenever we need to."

  Cheryl began crying.

  David put a hand on her shoulder. "Baby, we're prepared. We can get through this."

  Cheryl turned to him and frowned. "Get through this? It is the end of the world, David. Our plans were for nothing. We can't get into Canada. Our parents aren't here with us like we practiced. So far we're driving around aimlessly. There is no way we can go west or north and you know it."

  Before David could respond, the SpecPhone rang.

  "Hello?" Cheryl answered and closed her eyes. She was listening for a minute before handing the phone to David. "It's your dad. He wants to talk to you now."

  David took the phone and put it to his ear with dread. "Dad? Are you and mom alright?"

  "Listen son, like I just told Cheryl: we love you two."

  "I'm coming to get you."

  "David, you're as stubborn as your mother. We're heading southwest right now. It's the only open way to go. There's talk on the radio about people heading to Texas and Florida."

  "These things are everywhere, dad. You need to stop somewhere and let me find you. We can double back and head into Canada."

  "There is no more Canada. We stopped to help a couple heading south about twenty minutes ago."

  "Dad, I told you to stay away from people."

  "It was your mother, you know how she is. The people were coming from Canada and the borders have collapsed already. It looks like the entire population of our northern neighbors is infected and heading our way."

  "Where are you now? I'll head your way and we can meet up."

  "Son… head south. We'll meet in a southern State."

  David didn't want to hear this. They had a plan, and it wasn't working. Nothing was going the way it was supposed to.

  "No, I'm coming your way. I have your car on my GPS." David started the Ford Raptor and pulled out of the driveway.

  "I'm telling you to forget about us."

  David punched the steering wheel in frustration. "Dad, I'm trying to save you."

  "It's too late for us. Your mother… she was bitten. She doesn't look too good."

  Shit. "You need to get away from her…" Shit. "Bind her up so she can't bite you."

  "And then what? Live what's left of this life without her? I can't do it, and you know it. Take Cheryl to safety. Drive south. It's the only chance you have. I'm going to find somewhere pretty and quiet and spend my last few minutes with your mother."

  "Dad, don’t do this," David said and fought back the tears.

  "I loaded the Colt .45 you gave me, and you know I can use it. Heck, I taught you how to shoot. I love you, son."

  "I love, too, dad."

  "Give Cheryl a kiss for me and your mother. David… survive this."

  The SpecPhone disconnected.

  At the same moment, Cheryl began to scream, pointing at the television. "My parents are gone! The military just bombed Rosemount."

  Chapter Two

  South, and away from everything they owned, everyone they loved and everything they'd known. It was almost daybreak and David knew he had to pull over soon. They were running through dirt trails and farmland and doing a great job keeping off the main roads. From the news on the television, there was nowhere safe. Despite the military dropping bombs, blowing up bridges and setting up kill zones, the undead were multiplying while the living were being eaten… and worse.

  David looked at his wife, finally sleeping fitfully in the passenger seat, and sighed. He'd failed her. By now they should've been hunkered down in the shelter with their parents, playing a game of Yatzee and listening to the world die around them.

  They were somewhere in Iowa and heading south, cutting through fields and across property lines with abandon. When David saw a housing development, he decided to stop. The Raptor was almost on empty and now would be a good time to load up on extra supplies. He still had five gallons of gas as backup but you never knew when it would get scarce.

  He pulled into the farthest driveway, which had two newer Buicks parked in it, and turned off the engine. Cheryl was immediately alert, reaching for her Colt .45.

  "It's alright. We need to siphon some gas again and see if we can find some more food and water." David got out, weapon drawn, and his wife followed suit. "Keep watch." He glanced at the house, a well-kept ranch house with a Big Wheel parked on the grass. "I doubt anyone is home, but if they are they might shoot us."

  As Cheryl climbed onto the first car and scanned the neighborhood for movement, David pulled a small length of hose from the rear of the Ford Raptor and began pulling gas from the first car into theirs. He peered into the window. "This one is full. We might get lucky here."

  David emptied as much as he could from the first tank and started on the second car, which was three-quarters full. "This is taking too long. Anything?"

  "It's a ghost town. I don't see fires, bodies, damage to any of the houses… nothing unusual. Just another sunny day."

  David packed the hose in the truck and sighed. "Should we go inside?"

  Cheryl hesitated. "Do we need to?"

  "I'm not sure how bad this is going to get. The military might have contained it, but from the radio conversations I've been listening to, it broke through and Minnesota is pretty much gone. We're only in Iowa. We have a long run ahead of us. We have enough food for a month, but if it keeps going to
hell we might wish we'd stopped more often."

  Cheryl nodded. "Let's do this quickly. I don't like it."

  When they reached the walk, they stopped. The front door was ajar.

  "Hello?" David called, getting into a defensive stance and using the corner of the garage for a shield. "Anyone inside?"

  "What are you doing?" Cheryl whispered behind him.

  Without looking back, he spoke quietly. "The door is open but I don’t see any signs of a struggle. Either they left, which is more than possible, or they are trying to trap us. I think we need to be cautious with living or dead people from this point forward."

  "Hello?" he repeated.

  "You're wearing fatigues. Tell them you're military."

  David smiled. "That's why I married you." He stepped out cautiously but still trained the Colt .45 on the door, eyes glancing at the windows. "I'm United States military. We're searching for survivors. This area is going to fall soon."

  He heard something inside, a small shuffling noise. "Someone is inside."

  "Hopefully not something."

  David raised his voice again. "Last chance before we move on."

  He counted to twenty and then took a step forward, ready to rush in and do what he had to do. He imagined the house filled with zombies, although the news accounts so far were talking about them being mindless and hungry like popular movies and fiction always assumed. You nailed that one, Romero.

  "Don't shoot, please don't shoot!"

  David checked his weapon. "Come out slowly."

  A middle aged man stepped outside, squinting, with his arms raised. "This is my home."