Z Fever

by Jay Mouton

  As they walked along, Gavin, finally, moved up to the front. He asked Justine if she would follow along behind Ariel, and he had whispered that maybe she could, you know, coax her in to keeping up with her big brother? He grinned, and took the lead.

  They all stopped in their tracks when they heard a dog bark off to the north of the highway.

  There were a number of homes that dotted the roadside, but they became more sparsely separated as they moved along toward Justine’s driveway.

  Justine’s daddy had taught her a little bit about telling the time of day from the shadows of the day, but she knew she wasn’t that good at it. Still, she told Gavin, as they were just passing by Baker Bay, an artificially created body of water, that the locals often called Baker lake, that she thought it was getting close to five or so.

  Gavin knew, if his friend was correct, that they didn’t not have much more than a couple of hours left of daylight; he did not want them to try to make the rest of their way home in the dark. The good news was that Justine’s home could not be much more than a mile up the road. From there, his home about another mile, give or take.

  The dog barked once more, but the sound was fainter.

  Rather than take their packs off, this time they each helped one another retrieve another, much needed, bottle of water for each other. As well, they didn’t stop to rest, but simply took sips as they continued their hike.

  Thoughts raced through the young boy’s mind.

  He felt a growing fear inside at what they might find when they completed their journey. On the other hand, he had to keep a level of hope contained in his heart that things would all work out.

  Somehow —.

  * * * * *

  Subconsciously, Gavin must have willed his body to increase the speed that he’d been keeping as he led them further up the road.

  “Gavin,” he heard his little sister say his name, using what Gavin called her whiney, little, baby voice “I’m so tired.”

  “Come on, lil’ sis,” we’re getting really close, now,” he said, hoping he could urge her to keep moving.

  “But my feet hurt in my shoes,” she told him, adding “and I hate this bag on my back!”

  He, truly, empathized with Ariel, but they were getting so close now, and he wanted so much to get his sister home safe.

  “Look!” Justine called out from behind them.

  She pointed up the road, at a sight almost as familiar to her as her house; her mailbox.

  “What it is, Justine,” Ariel said, coming to a stop, and turning back to her newest friend.

  “That’s my mailbox, Ariel” Justine burst out, her voice brimming with a hope that allayed the situation they were all thrust into.

  Sure enough, Gavin, too, recognized the Webb’s mailbox.

  Justine threw her pack to the ground, and rushed past both Gavin and his sister.

  “Wait,” Gavin yelled at her as she rushed by him. Hope, seemingly, filling her with renewed energy as she closed the gap between her and her driveway.

  “Justine!” Gavin yelled out, trying to get her attention. Either she had not heard him, or she was just ignoring him. In any event, she ran on and made the turn up the winding dirt driveway the led right next to the path to the door of her, lifelong, home.

  “Come, on,” Gavin motioned to Ariel, but first he took a few steps back, leaned over, and picked up Justine’s pack from where she’d dropped it by the roadside.

  Gavin and Ariel Kingsley were just making the turn off the paved road of County 125, and onto the dusty driveway leading to Justine Webb’s house when they heard yet one more scream.

  It was Gavin’s turn to drop his pack, as well as Justine’s, onto the dirt covered driveway. Then, he beelined for the front door of the Webb home.

  The boy had lost all fear, other than that which drove him to rush up the driveway, then up the grassy path to the Webb’s door, and then up the three steps of the porch that lined the entire front of the aging house.

  Gavin burst through the open doorway, and yelled out for Justine.

  Frantically, he poked his head through the doorway to the kitchen, and there, off to his left, balled up in a fetal position, and wailing her heart out on a blood streaked linoleum floor, was his dear, sweet friend Justine Webb.

  * * * * *

  After what seemed like an hour or more, Gavin and Ariel had, finally, been able to calm Justine down enough to get her to agree to come home with them.

  Initially, the girl, nearly hysterical in her dread of what might have happened in the, once, warm and inviting space of the Webb family’s kitchen, refused to listen to Gavin’s reasoning. At one point, even cupping her hands over her ears. All the while, sitting hunched up on the floor, rocking back and forth to a rhythm that only she seemed to hear.

  They would never find out what happened in the Webb, home, but the dried blood that formed obscene patterns all over the floor and the walls of the kitchen, left little for them to second guess. Still, Justine did not bring up her mother, or father, to Gavin and Ariel Kingsley until months after the Z Fever outbreak exploded—across the entire globe.

  * * * * *

  Gavin, Ariel, and Justine made the hike up the Kingsley driveway just as the last of the lazy, February sun fell below the, tree-lined, horizon to the west.

  Tired, thirsty, and, more fearful than anything else, of what they would soon find, they all walked down the dirt drive up to the huge yard that separated their home from that of their grandparents, Reese and Tammy Kingsley.

  Gavin and Ariel knew, now, that their father had not made it home. His truck had been at a garage in the glen, and that was why their mama had dropped him off at the Jacksonville Airport early that morning, even before they left for school. The absence of his truck, parked under the giant oak in the center of their property, was proof that he’d not been able to, magically, make it home to them.

  Gavin’s understanding of all that had happened, and what was continuing to happen, was growing rapidly. Ariel, just as Justine had done at her home, an hour or so earlier, broke into a run toward her Grand mama’s house.

  “Ariel! Stop!” Gavin yelled out to his sister, but she paid no heed to his directive, and she raced on.

  Gavin, reflexively, threw off his pack, and raced after his little sister.

  Faster, Gavin! Your sister’s in danger!

  The voice from within cried loudly to him.

  “Ariel, Stop!” This time, it was Justine yelling after the girl. She, too, dropped her pack and dashed along after the girl and her brother, as Gavin closed the gap between them.

  Gavin, slowed by the shotgun that he, now, was carrying in his right hand hoping that he would not lose his grip on it during his pursuit of Ariel, caught up to her just as the child flung the outdoor screen wide and rushed through the doorway onto the patio. Gavin, jumped from the ground onto the porch, totally skipping the two steps below. Then, he, too, flew through the open doorway.

  Just as Gavin slowed his pace, in order to turn to his left and enter the house, he saw Ariel’s little backside disappear into their grandparents’ kitchen just as the door whisked closed behind her.

  Gavin’s free hand reached out for the door, gripped the handle, and just as he pulled the door open he heard his little sister holler out.

  Please, God! Oh, please, please, please, God! Gavin, now entering the kitchen, prayed his little sister, his little Ariel was alright.

  Gavin heard the girl yell out, once more, and then saw something that might have, before today, resembled his Grand mama, Tammy Kingsley, rushing forward and right at him.

  Gavin raised the shotgun in his right hand up, at the same time bringing his left hand up to grip, then steady, the stock of the weapon.

  Tammy Kingsley, her face a contorted mimic of his loving grandmother, howled and snarled as she leaped toward the boy.

  Gavin, looking right into her eyes, realized in the least fraction of a second, that the creature that was almost upon him was, i
ndeed, no longer his grandmother.

  She’s a zombie!

  The voice echoed in the boy’s head.

  Then, just as the creature’s body made contact with the barrel of Gavin’s shotgun, he pulled the trigger.

  Nothing happened!

  As the zombie drooled above his face, the dead eyes searing, down, into his own, Gavin realized that he’d forgotten to flick the safety off on the weapon.

  He closed his eyes, tightly against the horror that he was just about to meet, as he felt hot drops of the zombie’s hungry spittle spray across his cheeks.

  He felt a, momentary, tug of sadness in the knowledge that his young life was about to come to an end; and, an even sadder feeling swept over him knowing that he was unable to save little Ariel.

  * * * * *

  Suddenly, Gavin felt the slobbering beast above him jerk away from his body.

  Just as quickly, he saw a black streak of matted fur fly over him.

  Gavin Kingsley’s dog, Evie, had, somehow, showed up out of the darkness from just outside the kitchen door!

  The weight of the dog, and its momentum when it hit the zombie that was just about to sink its teeth into the soft flesh of the boy’s throat, knocked the monster off the child below it and onto its side.

  The dog, already primed for a fight from its natural instinct to protect the Kingsley children, sank its powerful jaws into the zombies left arm, spinning the dead flesh of the creature’s body even further away from the boy.

  Evie’s sharp canine teeth ripped further into the, already decaying, flesh of what was, once, Tammy Kingsley. The dog’s jaws clamped together down on the zombie’s same arm, again. This time, Evie’s bite tore off a good chunk of the monster’s arm when the courageous dog drew its head back in order to take another bite of the thing that was attacking Gavin.

  The zombie rolled over on its side, then with one grey, mottled arm, pushed against the floor and brought its full, dead weight back into a standing position. The hungry creature lunged for the boy, again.

  BLAM!

  The thunderous clap of the shotgun’s blast, magnified in its intensity within the small kitchen of the cinderblock building, echoed loudly.

  Gavin Kingsley, having made the mistake of forgetting to slip his shotgun safety off, would never make the mistake again.

  The force from the blast of the weapon, held at waist level as he did not have time to hoist the stock, level his aim, and fire at the zombie, nearly knocked the shotgun from his hands. But not before turning the zombie’s head into flecks of rotting flesh, and shards of skull, that dotted the refrigerator, oven, and the kitchen cabinets that lined the walls of the kitchen.

  Evie, the Kingsley children’s heroic dog, lay on her side, on the floor where she’d landed when the frenzied zombie shook her off and tossed her away like a sack of bones. Still, while the dog would take some time to mend, she was alive and would live to fight more battles with the Kingsley clan she belonged to.

  Gavin, still shaking from the encounter with his grand mama, stood, frozen in place, holding the still smoking shotgun in his right hand. Absentmindedly, he flicked the safety back on; just as his daddy had taught him to do.

  Off to Gavin’s left, just on the other side of his granddaddy’s favorite sofa, where the boy had watched random episodes of The Walking Dead as his granddaddy snored in peaceful slumber, he heard the telltale sound of Ariel crying.

  Waves of relief rushed through his young body, as he felt more alive than he’d ever felt before; his little sister was alive!

  Behind him Justine Webb walked through the door, and straight across the living room to help comfort the crying child.

  Justine was leaning over to fetch up little Ariel, when, out of her peripheral line of sight, she saw what was left of old, Mr. Kingsley, Ariel and Gavin’s grandfather. His body, like so many they had all seen through the passage of the day, was a torn collage of flesh, bone, organs, and so much blood seeping around the body parts drenching the sofa cushions the old man had, so often, rested his weary body on in blissful comfort.

  Justine, already beginning the arduous task of hardening her heart, ever so slightly, didn’t flinch. In one, fluid motion, she enclosed Gavin’s young sister into an embrace of her right arm, turned, and the two girls walked away from the grizzly remnants of death behind them.

  Gavin, hearing the sound of his sweet, ol’ Evie whimpering, reached over and flicked the patio light on outside. The electricity was still on, and for some reason, the kitchen light had been on when the Kingsley children rushed in the house. It had been a lucky break, as Gavin might have heard the zombie, but it would have been too dark inside the walls to see much of anything.

  Gavin leaned out the doorway of the kitchen, and leaned his shotgun against the outside wall of the house on the patio.

  He reentered the kitchen, stepped over the gore in front of him that was no longer his grand mama. The young boy leaned down, and fortified by love, found enough strength to lift the whimpering, wounded Evie up into his arms. Gavin turned back to the door, and stepping over the body of Tammy Kingsley once more, the boy and Evie joined Ariel and Justine as they stood, close together, in the cool, night air.

  All of them looked up as a single, lonely, falling star streaked across the dark, northern sky.

  * * * * *

  Gavin and Ariel Kingsley, along with their closest friend in the world, Justine Webb, spent that night, and many more in the future, in their home just across the wide expanse of yard between their house and that of Granddaddy and Grand mama Kingsley.

  They spent their first few nights at home, in relative comfort. Scared, lonely, and unsure of what each new hour would bring, but together and alive.

  The power remained on for those first, few days of adjustment to their new world; then, everything went black.

  As the days ahead turned into weeks, and then months, their northern Florida home warmed along with the changing season.

  Evie, their loving, faithful protector, mended.

  So, too, would Gavin, Ariel, and Justine’s young bodies mend, too.

  What would take longer, so much longer, to mend, would be their souls.

  Over the passage of time, they would learn, heartbreakingly painful lessons about the world of their youth. How that world had burned away, much like a meteor that shines, brightly for but a moment, then quickly fades into the darkness of the universe, so quickly.

  They would learn that it was a virus, when combined with human adults’ levels of their very own sexual hormones, that fell upon their planet during the world-wide meteor shower that occurred in the mid-winter of the year, which turned adult humans into zombies; into the monsters they had become. The virus caused, what all prepubescent children still alive on the planet Earth would all come to call, in various languages and across the continents, Z Fever.

  They would learn that the zombies could only kill and eat their victims. Unlike the Hollywood movies, and television series like The Walking Dead, nobody killed turned into a zombie; but, once killed, they were as dead as dead could be.

  They would learn, quickly, that the same fate of the adult humans on planet Earth, would claim them, too. Experience would eventually teach them, the children of planet Earth, that as their very bodies blossomed into young adulthood, they, too, would succumb to Z Fever.

  For Justine Webb, and her closest friends in the world, Gavin and Ariel Kingsley, the embrace of their fleeting childhood would be savored, together, as long as life permitted.

  They would learn to survive, even within the confines of their youthful understanding of the world in which they strived to learn in, but the savage reality around them would, indeed, take some of them before their allotted timed. They would learn to hunt down and destroy the adult humans; the zombies that populated the Earth with those, still, young human beings.

  Yet, always with the knowledge that time and biology would collude, deviously cunning, and one day, in a not so distant future, take the
m into the living hell that death would bring them all.

  For the time being, for the young, their planet, Earth, their sweet, sweet, planet Earth would sustain life; for a while.

  Still, all would learn that life, across the universe was short.

  But life, sweet, precious life, was even shorter for the children that would inherit the Earth.

  *the end*

  AUTHOR’S NOTE:

  First, a heartfelt thanks to those who’ve been making this journey with the individuals in my stories, and to a lesser extent this author. While I’ve been writing this and that for a good part of my life, it’s only been recently that I’ve found a delivery system from which to launch my, sometimes, crazy ideas. A good number of readers have taken a chance on various works I’ve recently published and I, again, sincerely thank you all for doing so.

  That presented, I know that my writing and, ultimately, my stories are not going to satisfy all readers. And that’s just the way that ball bounces. Having said that, it is my sincere wish that any reader venturing into one of my stories stop reading if you simply just don’t like it. No hard feelings from this end (I’ll stop reading if I’m a quarter into any work it and it’s just not ‘doing it’ for me). I, fully, understand that not all stories are going to please all readers. So, don’t torture yourself, Jut step away from whatever you’re reading and write my name down on a stay the hell away from this guy’s stuff list—done!

  Now, back to those who have just had a good time during their journey through this story.

  I’m glad for you, and I’m glad for me. And, again, I most sincerely thank you!

  Sincerely,

  Jay Mouton

  WORKS BY JAY MOUTON

  Apocalypse Awakening Book I: 2016 It Begins (a novel)

  Apocalypse Awakening Book II: A Prologue to War (a novel)

  Have You Ever Tried to Count the Stars (collected poetry)

  Z Fever (a novella)