Nuclear Undead:
Zombie Half-Life
by
N.J. McConnell
Copyright © 2015 by N.J. McConnell
The right of N.J. McConnell to be identified as the author of this eBook has been asserted by her in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act of 1988. This eBook is a work of fiction.
Names, characters, places and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
All rights reserved. No part of this eBook may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any other means (electronics, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise) without the prior written permission of the author.
Any person who does any unauthorized act in relation to this publication may be liable to criminal prosecution and civil claims for damages.
Dedications:
This eBook is dedicated to my daughter, Heather, who endured listening to numerous plot ideas and tirelessly gave honest and constructive opinions. (Okay, she rolled her eyes a few times, but she knows more than most people about zombies, werewolves and vampires – mainly vampires - so it was worth it.)
It’s also dedicated to my dog, Coco who sat in boredom at my side while I typed instead of playing a game of “keep away” with the chew toy and to my cats who honestly didn’t care if I was around or not as long as they were fed on time and the litter box stayed clean.
My son, his wife and children put up with my hiding away at home typing, but never complained about it.
Acknowledgements:
I want to thank the Kindle authors whose books kept me up all night when I needed to wake up early the next day. They are the reason I’m now addicted to caffeine. Payback’s a bitch.
Mark Tufo, all I can say is that you really need to stay out of the kitchen and away from power tools. Someday your wife is going to put you in a strait jacket and lead you around with a leash just to save money on Emergency Room bills. Seriously though, you’ve been an example of how to survive a zombie apocalypse while still having fun.
Joshua Guess, you’ve been an inspiration through your books and by reading your posts on Facebook. Bringing stray cats inside your home during the heavy snowfall to keep them warm is just one illustration of the compassionate person you are. Jess is a lucky gal.
A big thank you goes out to my biology lab professor at UCO in Edmond, OK, Dr. Robert Brennan. He’s real life microbiologist who patiently answered all my questions even while busy trying to explain how to use a microscope or fill out worksheets and he did it without skipping a bet. If any information in this book is scientifically inaccurate, it’s on me. I employed a bit of artistic license in some places.
PROLOGUE
Zombies are just a work of fiction, or are they? Poet Robert Southey wrote about zombies as far back as the early 1800s. Both Africa and Haiti have long legends of zombie lore. Haiti even wrote a criminal code concerning zombies that read, "Also shall be qualified as attempted murder the employment which may be made by any person of substances which, without causing actual death, produce a lethargic coma more or less prolonged. If, after the administering of such substances, the person has been buried, the act shall be considered murder no matter what result follows."
In 1907, a woman in Haiti named Felicia Felix-Mentor died and was buried, but according to her relatives, appeared alive and well thirty years later. Anthropologist Zora Neal Hurston wrote later that, “If science ever gets to the bottom of Vodou in Haiti and Africa, it will be found that some important medical secrets, still unknown to medical science, give it its power, rather than gestures of ceremony."
Experts say that a person can be turned into a zombie by merging two ingredients. One is a deadly neurotoxin from a puffer fish called “coup de poudre.” Some of the more expensive Asian restaurants serve a Puffer fish delicacy called “fugu.”. The second ingredient is a dissociative drug that’s commonly used as an anesthetic during surgeries.
Many products used today come from China and other Asian countries – especially fireworks. The Chinese invented fireworks approximately two thousand years ago and the quality of their creation is unquestionable. They are, after all, the experts in this area.
At the time, no one knew how the chemicals ended up combining in the fireworks or why the combination would cause toxic disaster that turned billions of innocent people into zombies overnight. It just happened.
A small percentage of those who were inside during the fireworks events were warned in time and lived. Most people were blindsighted and ended up turning into the same mindless flesh eating creatures that had attacked them. Zombies.
Table of Contents
Chapter 1……Happy New Year Fear!
Chapter 2……It Can’t Get Any Worse…or Can It?
Chapter 3……End of Broadcast
Chapter 4……Real Life isn’t Graded on a Curve
Chapter 5……Wishing You Were Here
Chapter 6……Farmer in the Dell
Chapter 7……Guests for Dinner
Chapter 8……Should We Stay or Should We Go
Chapter 9…….RV There Yet?
Chapter 10…..This is How We Roll
Chapter 11…..Road Rage
Chapter 12…..Home Sweet Ranch
Chapter 13…..You Don’t Choose Your Family
Chapter 14…..No Pain, No Gain
Chapter 15…..Redneck Church Barbeque
Chapter 16…..Dream Weaver
Chapter 17…..Let it Snow!
Chapter One
Happy New Year Fear!
“And now we welcome the new year. Full of things that have never been.”
Rainer Maria Rilke
My name is Sidney. I had to wake up early in the morning to put in overtime at work even though it’s a day off for most folks, so my head hit the pillow before the ball dropped for the start of the New Year’s Eve celebration. My wacky friends have been applying pressure all week so that I’d hit the clubs in Bricktown with them after the fireworks, but I’m a single woman with a car payment and a spoiled dog who loves her kibbles.
Showing up at work without a hangover and red eyes takes priority over toasting in the New Year. I have to admit that it’s hard to resist the temptation, though. Especially when they keep posting their plans on Facebook.
I pulled the comforter almost to my chin with only my arms and head uncovered. With a couple of stuffed pillows supporting my back, I read until my eyes closed and I fell asleep with the book still opened on my chest. I’m addicted to reading and normally get my fix on Kindle, but there’s something soothing about the smell and texture of the real thing.
The one I’m obsessed with right now is from the Zombie Fallout series by Mark Tufo and although I didn’t know it then, I should have held onto it as a guide for surviving what was to come. They say that what you don’t know won’t hurt you, but that’s a lie. It won’t just hurt you. It can kill you … or worse.
Who could have predicted that the world would go to hell overnight? Not me. I may find Sci-Fi and fantasy novels entertaining, but I live in the real world. I’ll admit to reading and watching almost all the zombie genre from books to movies, but it’s just a hobby.
Zombies don’t actually exist and even if something happened and - god forbid - there actually were zombies trying to eat our brains, the government would step in and take care of it. That’s why we have the National Guard, CDC and FEMA. It’s their duty to mitigate disasters. That’s why average people like you and I can sleep peacefully at night. It’s th
e reason we pay taxes. Well, most of us anyway.
I was jolted awake a couple of hours later by the shrill blaring of sirens outside my home. I had fallen into a deep and dream laden sleep and the noise sliced through the tranquility of the frigid January night. In the dream world, I was in the middle of kicking zombie ass to save a group of people cowering in fear behind me. Needless to say, it took a few seconds of being awake for my head to clear enough to figure out where that god awful noise was coming from.
I’ve been having vivid dreams as long as I can remember. Most happen after watching a scary movie or reading a Stephen King novel before going to sleep. The problem is that not all my dreams are normal. Some of the nightmares come true.
As a little girl, I learned the hard way that if I dreamed the same thing three times in a row, it would definitely happen. The things I envisioned weren’t clear and easy to understand like watching a movie, but were filled with a jumble of scenes, words and emotions.
When they first began, it was terrifying and there were many mornings that my parents would find me hiding in a dark corner of my closet holding my favorite doll. The things I envisioned would terrify even the most courageous adult.
My parents never questioned whether or not I was telling them the truth. They just believed what I said. They bought a journal where I could jot down notes whenever one of the nightmares woke me up and then we’d discuss it together at breakfast in the morning. They’d log the dreams and results to help me understand that I wasn’t imagining anything and no, I wasn’t going crazy. Dad said that it was a gift. It doesn’t feel like a gift when it wakes you up screaming in the night with a pounding heart.
My dad is a retired Army Ranger and extremely protective. The first time that I screamed after a bad dream, he grabbed his weapon and hauled ass into my room to shoot the “bad guy” who was scaring his little “Pumpkin”. As I grew older, the dreams eventually faded away and thankfully, I haven’t had any since. It’s impossible to imagine how draining it is to have nightmares and know they’ll come true. A little girl shouldn’t have to go through that.
As the siren continued wailing in my head like the screams of a person in agony, I pinched my nose to try and clear my thoughts with one hand while the other reached out to pick up the remote control that I placed on the nightstand next to the bed before falling asleep. The fastest way to find out why sirens are going off in Oklahoma is to turn on the TV and check out the emergency broadcast on the local news stations.
There’s a familiar feeling of stress that many of us who live in tornado alley experience whenever we hear the sirens being activated, especially at night. Psychologists call it a fight or flight response and it sometimes comes with a rush of adrenalin that’s so strong it can literally make your hands shake. Living in a place that has F5 tornadoes, earthquakes, wild fires and ice storms tends to keep you on your toes. Nietzsche said, “That which does not kill us makes us stronger.” He was most definitely talking about Oklahoma.
Aha! My fingers finally connected with the edge of the remote, but only long enough to tip it into the floor. “Crap!” I grumbled in frustration as I carefully slid over the side of the mattress with my still foggy head hanging upside down, wavy auburn hair falling into my face, and my feet tucked under the covers with one hand gripping the edge of the mattress to help maintain a semblance of balance while the other was desperately feeling along the thick carpet for the remote I dropped. I could very easily have fallen on my head and broken my neck.
Okay, so I’m being a bit overly dramatic, but I’m sure it could happen. Err, maybe.
It didn’t help the situation that my best friend and companion Coco, a champagne colored Chihuahua, decided to freak out over siren and is now pawing my back and whining while she shakes with fear. She knows from experience that the piercing noise coming from outside is never a good thing.
Yes, she sleeps with me. Coco is part of my family and we are essentially attached at the hip. Just ask her. She’ll tell you.
While I continued searching the floor upside down, my brain worked overtime to clear itself of the persistent fog clouding my ability to think. After a moment, I finally realized that it it’s not even tornado season. It’s not that we’ve never had a tornado this time of year before. It’s happened, but today’s weather forecast was for clear skies.
Yeah, that’s another thing about living in Oklahoma. We have a tendency to watch the weather report with as much concentration as a young woman gawking at the Hemsworth brothers with their shirts off.
Ah, the Hemsworth brothers… Focus, Sidney. Focus!
The point I’m trying to make is that we take weather seriously around here. We’ve experienced almost every type of weather condition possible, including a tropical storm. That one came close to washing away half the town of Kingfisher. There were helicopter rescues and all sorts of drama that day, most of them tragic. Hundreds of people were in harm’s way and two people lost their lives.
When dangerous weather is taking place in our state, it’s not unusual for families to spend hours and even days glued to the TV screen to keep up with what’s going on. Most of us feel closer to our meteorologists than our gynecologists. Seriously. I almost cried when Gary England retired. The man’s an icon.
It doesn’t make sense for the sirens to be blaring right now unless there’s a civil defense alert from a terrorist attack, chemical leak or something, but that’s highly unlikely. Oh, who am I kidding? In this day and age, anything’s possible. Oh, great! Now I’m definitely not getting enough sleep tonight. The only thing that’ll keep me awake at work tomorrow is an overdose of caffeine. If I wasn’t so scared right now, I’d be thoroughly pissed.
“Aha! There you are!” I squealed as I quickly snatched up the remote. I put it in my mouth and held it there with my teeth while using my now free hands to carefully pull my way back up onto the bed. After leaning up against the carved oak headboard, I removed the remote, let out a sigh of relief, then used the sheet to dry off any residual saliva. “Ach! Gross,” I complained to no one in particular.
I lifted the bedding a few inches to let Coco duck underneath, then watched as she wiggled her chubby little body back towards mine. She feels safer this way, but her body is still trembling. I rubbed the little furball’s back to help her calm down, but to be honest, I’m almost as scared as she is. Knowledge is power and it’s easy to be afraid of what you don’t know. At this point in time, I’m clueless.
“It’s okay, Coco Bear. Nothing’s going to hurt you. I’m here,” I said as soothingly as possible.
The truth is, dogs usually have well-tuned instincts, so if they’re afraid, you should at least be cautious. Chihuahuas are survivors by their very nature. The breed was around even before the Mayans and they endured throughout the centuries. They didn’t live in the wild like other canine types. Instead, they made their homes in dens. The Mayans eventually brought them home as pets. Some Chihuahuas were raised as food, but I refuse to dwell on that. The idea that someone could look at my dog and think of her as dinner makes me nauseous.
Coco sleeps on the bed facing outward as her way of protecting me. Her body may be small, but that’s not how she sees herself. A few months back, a pit bull made the mistake of walking onto our property while we were sitting outside enjoying the sunshine and before I could stop her, Coco was chasing that poor, frightened dog in circles around the house. I finally caught up with the little hellion and carried her back inside, but it was a learning experience. Apparently, my dog has mental issues. Maybe Prozac will help.
I lifted the now dry remote and aimed it at the TV. A gamut of colors lit up the bedroom walls as a ‘Breaking News’ ticker scrolled along the bottom of the screen. The backdrop behind the news desk displayed a file photo of the Oklahoma City’s downtown area focusing on the ball that officials lower each year during the New Year’s Eve celebrations.
The perfectly coifed brunette anchorwoman with painted-on makeup from the Channel Five news wa
s seated sideways watching something off screen. After a momentary pause, she nodded a couple of times, then faced forward, focusing her attention back on the camera lens, smiled with teeth too flawless to have been real and began speaking in a clear voice.
“Here’s what we have been told by officials so far. Violence broke out in several locations throughout the state tonight around during community New Year’s festivities. We’ve received multiple reports of assaults against bystanders which have resulted in an unknown number of injured and at least four confirmed fatalities.”
“Other stations throughout the area have reported the same type of outbreaks taking place. At this point, we don’t know if this is an act of terror caused by a biological weapon, mass hysteria or some type of infestation. We’re taking you now to correspondent Tom Middleton, who is reporting from Bricktown. We must warn you that the images you are about to see may be disturbing for younger viewers.”
The image changed over to a young man in his late twenties with a chiseled face and intense blue eyes gripping a microphone in one hand while glancing down at a notepad that he held in the other with complete concentration. He was dressed in a thick black winter coat with a wool packer hat covering his hair and had a blue scarf wrapped around his neck that accentuated the color of his eyes. The reporter’s breath was clearly visible in the frigid air as he reached up to push an earpiece closer to his head. He nodded, then straightened and looked directly into the camera with a somber expression.
“This is Tom Middleton reporting from Bricktown where a riot broke out tonight. The cause of the disruption is unknown at this time, but groups of people are taking to the streets to commit unprovoked acts of violence towards others, including children. Many of the victims have been taken to area hospitals and it’s reported that after arriving, some of the wounded began displaying violent tendencies. Hospitals are being overwhelmed and have begun turning those with non-life-threatening injuries away.
Nuclear Undead (Book 1): Wake the Dead Page 1
