Savannah's Only Zombie (Book 2): A New Darkness

by Josh Vasquez

  A New Darkness

  By

  Josh Vasquez

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead (or undead), is coincidental.

  Copyright © 2014 by Joshua Vasquez

  All rights reserved.

  Kindle Version 1.0

  Cover design and additional artwork by Xavier Martinez

  To the one who brought me out of darkness and into His marvelous light.

  Table of Contents

  Author’s Note

  Prologue

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty One

  Chapter Twenty Two

  Chapter Twenty Three

  Chapter Twenty Four

  Chapter Twenty Five

  Chapter Twenty Six

  Chapter Twenty Seven

  Chapter Twenty Eight

  Chapter Twenty Nine

  Chapter Thirty

  Chapter Thirty One

  Chapter Thirty Two

  Chapter Thirty Three

  Chapter Thirty Four

  Chapter Thirty Five

  Epilogue

  A New Death: CJ's Story

  I. Panic

  II. Loss

  III. Sorrow

  Art Inspired by A New Darkness

  Before You Go

  About the Author

  Acknowledgements

  Author’s Note

  This book is a part of a series. After the first book, A New Death, there is a short story, A New Death: CJ’s Story. While not completely necessary to read the short story before diving into A New Darkness, it is helpful and recommended. If you have yet to read it, I have provided it in the back of the book and you can follow the link to it here.

  “Do you mortify; do you make it your daily work; be always at it whilst you live; cease not a day from this work; be killing sin or it will be killing you.”

  John Owen

  “In this life now, you kill, or you die. Or you die and you kill.”

  The Walking Dead’s Governor

  Prologue

  Traffic was at a standstill. It had been thirty minutes since James Brighton and his car had moved forward an inch. In the Georgia heat and humidity, thirty minutes was forever, especially if you do not have air-conditioning. Sitting high above the Savannah River on the Talmadge Bridge, James wiped sweat from his face and fanned himself with an old catalog that never made it inside from the mailbox. His small, four-doored compact was full of his belongings. Suitcases stuffed with his clothes filled the trunk; his TV and other electronics filled the backseat along with anything else he grabbed in his rush to leave the house.

  I should have left sooner, he thought.

  He should have. His brother called him before everything even happened. Tried to warn him to get the hell out of the city, but just like always, he ignored his older brother’s sound advice. He had laughed it off at the time. The dead walking and eating the flesh of the living? Strange government orders? Please, James had said, that was movie stuff.

  But he was wrong.

  The dead were walking, and they were in fact eating the flesh of the living. James had seen it himself. There was a septuagenarian woman living in the apartment next to him. She could not even hear her own TV and blared the volume throughout the night, but she always complained to the super anytime James had a few friends over. She was the first one that James saw turn.

  She was in the hall when he came home from work, standing with her face to the wall, swaying back and forth.

  How sad, James had thought at the time. Alzheimer's must be kicking in. Maybe even Dementia.

  But it was not Alzheimer’s. Or Dementia. It was something else. Something that made the old woman attack James with an unnatural strength and try to tear the skin from his bones.

  He grimaced. He could not forget the sickening crack of skull and the slosh of brain matter from when he bashed her head against his doorknob. He had no choice. He closed his eyes and placed his head in his hands, his forehead slick with perspiration. He should have listened to his big brother.

  Damn my pride.

  Things had always been rough between him and his brother. Not that his brother did anything wrong, no, that was it entirely; his brother was perfect.

  Okay, maybe not perfect, but definitely their father’s idea of perfect. John had been the Boy Scout, the war hero, the family man. Basically, everything that James was not. While John was a respectable fighter pilot for the Marines, James worked at Home Depot. Nothing wrong with working at Home Depot, but when stacked against his brother’s list of accomplishments, James always fell short.

  What made it unbearable was that John never gloated in it. He had been the perfect big brother. John never picked on James growing up, always looked out for his younger brother, and even lent him money when James needed it.

  I’m the one with the problem, James thought.

  Traffic moved forward three inches.

  James was on the uphill climb of the bridge, and from where he was sitting, he could not see what the holdup was. This particular stretch of road between Georgia and South Carolina was notorious for horrible back-ups. With the sudden exodus from Savannah, it was much worse.

  James sighed and cursed himself again for not leaving sooner.

  Looking out to his right, over the Savannah Riverfront, he saw two small dots appear just above the horizon. They increased in size as they drew closer; their shapes began to grow more familiar to James. Soon enough, the sound that followed them arrived, a roar of engines and wind.

  They were fighter jets.

  Not just any fighter jets, but they looked to be the same ones his brother flew. The F-35’s flew low to the river, much lower than James thought they were allowed to fly.

  What are they doing? Surveillance?

  That did not seem right. You do not send fighter jets for surveillance, at least, not without extensive bombing afterwards.

  James chuckled to himself.

  The thought of the military bombing the city was ridiculous. Sure, when he had passed through the city, he saw plenty of the monsters attacking people, but there were still people fighting back and numerous others still alive. The city was not completely overrun yet. It would be complete overkill to level Savannah.

  The pair of jets flew over the bridge. They were low enough to where you could see the markings on the side. It could have been his imagination, but James swore he saw his brother’s call sign on one of the jets. They passed over and then shot up into the sky.

  What are the odds that is John? He’s probably been on high alert since everything started.

  James heard screaming come from the Savannah bound lanes. He looked over to see, about fifty feet away, a monster attacking its family inside a car. The seat belt held it back, but it was able to grab a hold of the person next to them. Blood pulsed onto the window, covering the carnage behind it.

  The people in the cars nearby began to panic. Multiple
drivers began to try to push themselves away from the blood-soaked vehicle. This only caused the cars to become more gridlocked. Finally, a large black man, the size of a football player, got out of his truck. In his hand was a rather large hammer. He went over to the monster’s vehicle, opened the door, and began swinging the hammer into the creature’s head. After several swings, the thing’s body went still. The man looked at the remaining family, nodded, and then returned to his vehicle.

  The whole situation was surreal.

  How could this all be happening?

  Like James had told his brother over the phone, this was all movie stuff. Fictional. Make-believe. However, reality made a hard argument that the events starting yesterday were very, very real. As if to punctuate his thoughts on reality, he saw movement out of the corner of his eye.

  The two jets had returned and were now racing at the bridge at an incredible speed. James watched as something detached from the jets, and they disappeared into the sky again.

  In front of him, the bridge erupted into flame and debris. The suspension cables groaned and snapped as the bridge twisted from the explosion. James shielded his eyes from the heat blast. He could barely see through the thick black smoke and fire, but he heard screaming. It took him a moment to realize it was his own.

  Panic ensued.

  The car in front of him slammed into him in reverse, pushing him back into another car. He tried stomping down on the brakes, but the car kept pushing. When the cars behind them would move no more, the driver got out and began running away from the blast. Others did the same.

  The bridge shuddered.

  James got out of his car and ran. Others bumped into him as they all ran for safety. There was a loud crack as one of the suspension cables broke loose and landed on a row of cars, crushing them and their inhabitants. James picked up speed.

  He ran several feet until a large weight crashed into him. It sent him flying into a minivan, and he hit the ground with a thud. The weight was quickly on top of him. There was a sharp pain in his stomach as he opened his eyes.

  The weight was humanoid, but it was not human. It couldn’t be. Its eyes were as black as tar, bloodshot. Its open mouth revealed rows of broken, jagged teeth. Rich, red blood hemorrhaged from the cracks of its eyes, nostrils, and the corners of its lips. It was not wearing a shirt, but James could not distinguish its gender. Its chest looked to be torn off; the beginnings of rib cage poking through.

  It was one of them.

  One of the fast ones.

  And its fingers were clawing into James’s intestines.

  He coughed, blood spurting from his mouth. He felt his body go into shock. He did not feel the pain, only the wiggling of fingers inside him. James watched as the monster pulled out several feet of intestine and shoved them into its mouth. It chewed, bile and fluids dripping down its chin. It could have been his imagination again, or maybe the loss of blood, but James could have sworn it grinned as it ate.

  I should have left sooner.

  Chapter One

  The wood crackled and shifted in the brick fireplace. Lexx leaned forward and placed another log into the slowly dying fire. It quickly caught flame and the fire grew. Before reclining back into his spot against the couch, he pulled a small sliver from the fire and held the burning tip to his newly found cigar. He puffed patiently, allowing the tobacco to light. A sweet smelling smoke filled the room, but no one seemed to mind. The man grinned his boyish-grin and sat back into his spot next to Tori on the carpet.

  Josh lay adjacent to them in the love seat; his feet pointed towards the warmth of the fireplace. His eyes were shut, most likely resting, not sleeping. Every now and again, his toes would wiggle, almost to acknowledge he was still awake.

  Jeremy found himself in the well-broken-in recliner. With his feet popped up, (also in the direction of the fire), he was doing his best to fight off the sleep which tried to overtake him, even though he needed it.

  They all needed it.

  Everyone was exhausted. It could be seen on each one of their faces. The events of the past few days had been physically wearing, and just as emotionally tiresome. After leaving Savannah and the trials that they faced there, the road to Josh’s family did not seem any easier. Three times already they have had to find an alternate route due to road blocks. Once, they actually found themselves on I-16 which should have been clogged with fleeing traffic, but due to a massive pile-up, was mostly empty past Effingham County.

  And then there were the dead. Their numbers weren’t swollen like in the city, but the small groups that banded together out in the country could be just as frustrating. They did seem to group together. Josh was convinced that the undead didn’t “communicate” in a normal sense, but when one moaned, the others heard it and moved in that direction. He was afraid of them grouping in large numbers, like at the grocery store and the day he rescued the others.

  But despite all this, despite that they were probably still a day’s journey from his family, everyone was in good spirits. The house they were currently in was a God-send. It was tucked out of the way, away from the roads and neighboring homes. And best of all, it was left almost entirely intact. Whoever lived here, left everything and split. There was the possibility that they never came home, but no one ever brought that up.

  “This is a good-ass cigar,” Lexx said, breaking the peaceful silence.

  Jeremy smiled.

  “Ass-cigar? That sounds-”

  “Haha, you are so funny,” Lexx interrupted, not amused by Jeremy’s clever word play.

  Jeremy’s smile faded.

  “Ben would have liked that joke.”

  The room was silent again, but not so much in a restful way, but a painful one.

  “I would have liked to have met him,” Josh said, eyes still closed. “From the way y’all have talked about him, he seemed like a great guy.”

  “He was,” Tori said.

  Jeremy tried not to think about Ben, to which he immediately felt somewhat guilty for trying to do. He did want to remember him, but it was still hard. The two men had formed a friendship against the backdrop of the end of the world. Jeremy was just glad that the Lumberjack got what he deserved for killing Ben.

  It was ironic that, it was Ben who continued to vouch for LJ, and in the end, was killed by the monster the man turned into. Jeremy was not sure why LJ turned the way he did, and when they asked Josh about it, he did not have any zombie knowledge to enlighten them with.

  “So, Josh,” Lexx started. “I still haven’t heard how you ended up being in the right place at the right time. I didn’t have the pleasure of riding in the cab of the truck.”

  Josh’s eyes opened, staring up at the ceiling.

  “Yes, I would like to know as well,” Tori added.

  “I was almost asleep,” he said.

  “C’mon man. Tell us and then we’ll turn in,” Lexx insisted.

  Josh sat up in his seat and spun his feet around to the ground. He rubbed his face a few times, scratching at the stubble on his chin.

  “Okay, but me and Jeremy get the kid’s room.”

  “Deal,” Tori answered before even consulting Lexx.

  “Yeah, that’s fine, I guess. Not like we’ll be sleeping much anyway,” he said, playfully elbowing Tori in her ribs. She pushed him away, but couldn’t hide the small smile on her face.

  “Jeez guys, you’re gonna have to give it a rest. We’d be there already if you two weren’t always sneaking off,” Jeremy said.

  “I can’t help that she finds me irresistible.”

  “Oh yeah, that’s it,” Tori interjected.

  Josh cleared his throat.

  “So, I’m going to start telling my story now. I’m sleepy, so let’s get this over with.”

  Everyone settled down. Tori and Lexx moved from the floor to the couch; Jeremy brought the seat up, but left the footrest out for optimal foot warming from the fire. Lexx reached over, grabbed the blanket sitting on the arm of the couch and then to proceede
d to cover himself and Tori. She snuggled into his side.

  “Please begin,” Lexx said to Josh, with his hand held out.

  ***

  “Work sent me down to Brunswick late in the afternoon last Thursday. We were finishing a job down there, a high school, and had to get a whole bunch of our ladders and tools out of the building. It was this whole last minute “fiasco” (he uses “air-quotes”), and the stuff had to be out of the school by that night. So, I got the pleasure of driving south and picking everything up.

  I left our shop- Can I just say something real quick? I think it’s crazy how the warehouse that y’all met in and spent your first night together, is the same place I work. I mean, what are those odds? That you would stay there and then later, when all hope seems lost, who shows up? Just a guy driving a truck from the same exact place! Anyways, just thought I’d say that.

  So, I left the shop sometime around two, I think? Yeah, it was around two, because I remember thinking about how Brunswick is an hour away, and that meant two hours of travel time and however long it would take to load everything on the truck. And it was so hot that day. So freaking hot.

  I get down to the job site around three. Everything was still normal then. A couple of the guys met me outside the school and informed me that they were still hunting down ladders within the building. Tools have a great way of disappearing on construction sites, but I digress.

  It takes us an hour to track down the last five remaining ladders. The school was massive, this two-story deal, with a huge courtyard in the middle of it. Everything there was state of the art. Real top-notch kind of place. Kids would have been lucky to have gone there if they ever got the chance. But now they won’t. At least for now.

  As we finished loading the last few ladders onto my truck, Johnny, one of our guys, was telling me how a few of the other workers around the school had been acting strange all day. Word was that some kind of stomach bug was going around.

  Great, I thought. That’s all I need is to get sick and bring it home to my wife.