Zombies Ate My Neighbors, Family & Friends - Book 3 (Zombie Apocalypse Z Series)

by Chambliss, J. D.

“He's behind it,” Carl confirmed.

  “Dad?” Amber shouted, running toward the door and trying the handle. It wouldn't budge, but she continued to try.

  “Amber for the love of...” Carl said. “how many times are you going to do that? If a door is locked, it's not going to open.”

  “Fine, stand back,” she shouted, taking aim with her shotgun. Shooting doors had also become normal. Checking bathrooms, shooting doors, cursing, slamming into things, riding over and around corpses – just another day in the zombie apocalypse.

  “The butt! Use the butt!” Carl screamed, diving out of the way. “Don't waste ammo--”

  It was too late, she'd already pumped and fired at the handle, sending sparks and metal throughout the corridor. A second later, Kelly appeared from the restroom behind them.

  “What the hell?!” she squeaked. Now, even the little kids were cursing..

  “Language, please,” Amber said.

  “Your sister is trigger happy, that's what!” Carl shouted, his hands clamped firmly over his ears.

  As Frank pushed the steel door open and walked through, Amber remarked that it had been her last shell.

  “Good to see you again. brother,” Carl said, shaking Frank's hand. Amber ran forward, breaking them apart to give her father a long overdue hug.

  “I'm so sorry,” she said, “we screwed everything up.”

  “No, no, it's fine,” he said, hugging her tightly. “We're all together, aren't we? Everything is fine.”

  “Enough of the mushy shit,” Carl said. “We've got to go. Amber, you said you found a working semi-truck, yeah?”

  “Yeah,” Amber said, letting go of her father. “Had the keys and everything, and no zombie driver I think, but I didn’t have time to stop to make sure..”

  “Alright, let's give that a try, since we've only got one ATV.”

  “One ATV?” Frank raised an eyebrow. “You started with two.”

  “Yeah... about that,” Carl said, scratching his head. “We ran into a tentacle monster.”

  “Funny,” Frank said, pushing past them and walking toward the exit.

  “Yeah,” Carl said. “It's only funny if you weren't there. That's a twist.”

  They emerged into the sunlight once again, the daylight nearly blinding them on the way out. The salt air greeted them as they took a left and walked down the freeway, toward the semi-truck Amber had found.

  “So tell me,” Frank said, “how did you defeat the tentacle monster?”

  “Had to think outside the box,” Carl said as they walked past his wrecked ATV. “Used a rail gun.”

  “That's real good,” Frank said.

  “Look to your left,” Carl said.

  Frank took a look, seeing a mess of broken concrete, silver blood, and chunks of flesh splattered down the freeway wall for at least a hundred feet.

  “The hell is that?”

  “Tentacle monster,” Carl said.

  “For God sake,” Frank said. “It's not funny now that I know it's real.”

  They reached the semi-truck, which was surprisingly intact and facing the right direction.

  “Did you check the trailer?” Carl asked Amber.

  “Do you really think I had time?” she replied.

  Carl walked to the back of the truck and pulled open the lock. With Frank's help they pushed the door upward, revealing the contents of the truck.

  “I don't believe it,” Carl said. “I really don't believe it.”

  “What?” Amber asked. “What is it? Can we use it?”

  “They're MRE's, military issue,” Carl said. “Entire trailer is full of them. You're sure this truck moves?”

  “Yeah, I turned the engine over and everything.”

  “Okay, we're going to find that cruise ship and load this shit up,” Carl said.

  “Sorry, cruise ship?” Frank asked.

  “Yeah, apparently Carl can drive it,” Amber said sarcastically.

  “Being a little ambitious, are we?” Frank asked, staring directly at Carl.

  “Always,” Carl grinned, pulling the trailer door shut. “Let's find ourselves a boat.”

  ***

  Jack was unceremoniously thrown into a dark utility shed somewhere within the gated community, the door slammed behind him.

  “Dammit,” he said, turning around and pounding on the sheet metal door. He rested his head against the door, cursing. The air in here was putrid; it smelled of death. Was there a body in here? He turned around and put his back to the door sliding down to the ground. He was going to die here. Jonah had failed, God knows how, but he had failed.

  “Jack? Is that you?” A little girls' voice pierced through the darkness. Jack squinted, trying to let his eyes adjust to the small amount of light permitted by the cracks in the door frame.

  “Whose there?” he demanded. “Who are you?”

  “Sorry,” the little girl said, “I guess you don't remember me talking, do you?”

  “Talking? What? What are you talking about?”

  “Jack, it's me, Sarah.”

  “Sarah?” Jack repeated. “Sarah? No that's impossible Sara didn't...couldn't...what the hell is going on?”

  “It's a long story,” she said. “but to put it mildly, I was bitten. Did you bring Jonah?”

  “You were bit—How do you know about Jonah?”

  “He promised me he'd come save us,” Sarah said. “He should have come with you.”

  “Sarah...” Ross whispered, hanging his head. “I'm sorry, but Jonah died. Dunfield killed him.”

  There was a pregnant pause in the air. It lasted for about two minutes before Sarah spoke again, and now Ross was beginning to see her in the darkness. She was definitely Sarah, and she was much more alert than he remembered.

  “I don't understand,” she said. “Jonah can't die. Jonah is going to save us.”

  “I'm sorry sis,” Jack said. “Sometimes, things don't work out the way they're supposed to...but dammit. You shouldn't be here, you don't deserve this. I'm the screw up.”

  “Jack,” Sarah said, moving closer to him. “Is this about what you said in the doctor's office when you were thirteen?”

  Jack looked up, his eyes filled with shock.

  You heard me?”

  “Of course, I heard you silly,” Sarah said. “We all say things we don't mean, unless we can't talk, of course. I forgive you.”

  “You...forgive me? Really?” Jack said.

  “Of course, we were both kids! You're like a dog with a bone!”

  He breathed heavily, for a moment, and then, all at once, it was as if he were free. All these years he'd been punishing himself, but Sarah had forgiven him. The words he'd never expected to hear, no, the words he thought he never COULD hear had left her lips. He was forgiven, and it was wonderful.

  “Thank you so much, Sarah,” he said.

  Sarah shrugged. “It's not really a big deal.”

  “Oh, yes it is,” Jack said. “You have no idea. You know, I don't mind dying so much now.”

  “Well, I DO,” Sarah said, crossing her arms. “This isn't how things were supposed to happen.”

  “Maybe, we'll have to make our own future,” Jack said. “From here on out, we rely on ourselves. If we can get out of here that is.”

  “Can you tell me how Jonah died?” Sarah asked quietly. “He meant a lot to me, even though I never got to meet him.”

  Jack thought for a moment. He wasn't entirely certain he wanted to tell her the truth.

  “Dunfield shot him down at the gate,” Jack said. It sounded a lot better than 'he tried to be a badass and win a duel.'

  “Something tells me there's more to it,” Sarah said, staring at him hard.

  “Yeah, there's always more to it,” Ross muttered, “but sometimes you just don't want to know.”

  “Kind of a weird concept,” Sarah said. To her it was indeed a weird concept, not knowing would drive her crazy, but she didn't want to push her brother any further.

  “So,
Sarah,” he said. “I'm going to die, soon.”

  “That's what Dunfield says,” Sarah nodded.

  “I haven't been the best big brother to you, at all. I can't promise you I'll be the spitting image of strength when they kill me either. I mean I feel okay right now, but that's because it isn't real yet.”

  “It doesn't matter what you do when they take you up there,” Sarah said. “You'll always be my big brother.”

  “I really wish I could ask you to remember me, but what is there to remember? What the hell did I ever do for you? What did I do to protect you against...against him? What kind of shitty person was I? Who am I to you? What did I do to earn your love?”

  Sarah smiled and placed her hand on his shoulder.

  “You existed,” she said, “and that was enough. Forget everything else and remember this moment. The moment you made everything right. You're not who you were, you're who you are. I don't think you're going to die today, I really don't, but just in case you do, I want you to know that you'll always be my big brother. You'll be the ground I walk in, you'll be the wind that blows past my ear on a warm summer day, reminding me that you love me. You'll be the snow on the ground in the winter. You'll be everywhere. Everything will remind me of you. You are my brother.”

  They sat in silence for a long time. Jack had nothing to say to that, he couldn't even begin to love himself the way she loved him, and he couldn't understand where it was coming from. The silence was broken when the door swung open, exposing both to the noon-day sun.

  “Come on,” A soldier said gruffly. “It's time.”

  Rather than letting him stand on his own two feet, soldiers entered the shack, grabbing Jack under the arms and dragging him outside.

  “Let go of me, asshole!” Jack shouted, rising to his feet and trying to shake them off. They intended to rob him of his dignity by simply dragging him to his execution.

  “Shut your mouth, traitor,” One of the soldiers said, kicking Jack in the leg, nearly pushing him to the ground once again.

  “Jack?” He heard Sarah call from behind.

  “Sarah, it's okay,” Jack called back.

  “I said shut your damn mouth!” The soldier raised the butt of his rifle and slammed it into the back of Jack's head. He collapsed into the street, barely holding his own on hands and knees. As he lay nearly prone on the ground, his head pounding, another soldier took the opportunity to kick him in the gut, twice, sending him sprawling across the sidewalk. These soldiers had never met Jack, but Dunfield's highly vocalized hatred had caught on. Jack was a pariah, though he'd barely done anything against Dunfield.

  “If he can't walk, get a rope and we'll drag him,” One of the soldiers said. He couldn't have been much older than Jack.

  “I can walk,” Jack said as he climbed to his feet.

  “Fine, traitor,” the soldier said, “then walk!”

  As Jack took a stumbling step forward, one of the soldiers kicked him in the back, sending him forward to the asphalt once again. This time he scraped his hands, leaving a trail of blood behind. The palms of his hands burned, and winced, tears brimming in his eyes.

  “Jack? Stop hurting him!” Sarah shouted. Suddenly, her cries were replaced with screams.

  “How about I hurt you instead, little girl?” One of the escort soldiers laughed. Jack tried to get up, but was once again pushed to the ground by a boot. This time it ground into the back of his head, pushing his face against the asphalt.

  “Stay down, traitor,” the soldier advised.

  They finished their beating and proceeded to drag Jack toward a waiting crowd, and an execution platform with Dunfield standing prominently in the center. He wasn't alone. There were two women beaten bloody and tied to the built-in posts to Dunfield's left. Jack was escorted onto the stage and secured to another post, while his sister was simply held in the crowd by two armed men.

  “Welcome to the main event!” Dunfield shouted to the crowd. “We're here today for two reasons, one of which is to execute the traitor, Jack Frost. He is a deserter and a coward. We've been chasing him for a long time, and today is the day that justice is served! But first, we have another execution.”

  Dunfield walked across the stage, pointing toward the two women, bound and gagged to the posts.

  “In our new world, we have no room for sexual deviance. Sex is an act to be performed between one man and one woman. If we are to repopulate our little blue planet, we need to stick with those strict guidelines. What we have here, are two lesbians. They might be perfectly nice people, but they are breaking the natural order, and that we cannot allow. Homosexuality spreads disease, and negatively influences our children. This we cannot allow. So, with great regret, we will be putting them down like the dogs they are.”

  If the crowd had any objections to this, they certainly didn't show it, nor could they with the guns trained on them. They were forced to simply go along with the madness unfolding on stage. Dunfield had won, fully, and completely.

  “Let the executioner step forward!” Dunfield shouted. On cue, a soldier stepped out from behind the stage, dressed in full ACU's a Kevlar helmet, and a pair of tinted goggles. “In the days of old, executioners hid their faces to avoid public ridicule and even danger. In our new society, executioners like this one will be the hand of justice, and a necessity for us if we are to survive! That being said, to touch an executioner is to invite death upon yourself. Brave men like this one will walk in the light of day with their heads held high. Executioner, reveal yourself!”

  The executioner moved stiffly, his motions nearly robotic. The last time Jack had seen movements like this had been on television, during the changing of the guard outside Buckingham palace. Quickly, and efficiently, the soldier removed his helmet and goggles, placing them on the wooden floor. Dunfield turned to glance at the now revealed executioner, and his jaw hit the floor. It was Jonah, alive and well.

  “What...” Dunfield said to an expressionless Jonah. “I killed you, I left your body in a ditch beside the road.”

  Jonah nodded. “Yes, you did.”

  “Then how...how are you...never mind! Shoot this man! Kill him!”

  The soldiers immediately took aim and fired, each round hitting Jonah square in the head, body, legs, even arms. None of the rounds seemed to hit him. In fact, one round sailed through him and killed a soldier standing guard behind the platform.

  “Cease fire!” Dunfield screamed. “Cease fire!”

  The gunfire stopped, and Jonah was still standing, not a single scratch on him.

  “What the hell just happened?” Dunfield demanded. “Who are you?”

  “My name is Jonah,” Jonah said, staring straight at him. “And I'm going to have you put down like the dog you are.”

  For the first time, Dunfield showed fear. He began to back away from Jonah, then turned, prepared to flee from the stage. As he ran to the steps, he slammed against an invisible wall, knocking him onto his backside.

  “I'm afraid I can't let you leave the stage,” Jonah said. “I've been watching you, and I haven't liked what I've seen. Normally, I simply let things like this go, but you are, amazingly, the first human being I've seen that's managed to single handedly bring the world to its knees with your own greed.”

  “I did what was right!” Dunfield shouted, somewhat to the crowd, and somewhat to Jonah. “I did my best, for the United States of America! Sacrifices must be made to safeguard liberty!”

  “You misunderstand the situation,” Jonah said. “I'm not here to listen to your explanations or pleas. I am here to make sure you never hurt anyone again.”

  As Dunfield tried to make a run for it again, Jonah walked over to Jack, untying him and allowing him to fall forward onto the platform.

  “I know it's a lot to ask, Jack Frost,” Jonah said, “but I need you to finish him.”

  Jack looked up at Jonah, confused, using his right hand to wipe blood from his face as he struggled to his feet.

  “I don't understand, why me?
” Jack whispered.

  “With Dunfield gone, they'll need someone else to follow,” Jonah said. “You're someone. Take this gun, put a round through his head.”

  Jack took the gun, it was an exact replica of the Glock he'd seen Jonah use during the duel. He stared at it, turning it over in his hand. Could he really do it? Could he really take another man's life?

  “Quickly,” Jonah said, “before they lose faith in you. I know it's a lot to ask, but these are desperate times. I need you to get your head in the game.”

  Jack hefted the weapon in one hand, and then pulled the slide to cock it, as he'd seen Jonah do. He slowly walked to Dunfield, who was still sitting on the deck, shouting angrily at the crowd.

  “Do you see how your great leader acts when he's cornered?” Jonah shouted, much louder than Dunfield. “He falls to his knees and shouts. This is not the mark of a true leader! This is the mark of a coward and an excuse maker! This is not a man you want to follow!

  Jack Frost placed the weapon against the back of Dunfield's skull and whispered quietly so that only he could hear.

  “I'm kind of hesitant to kill you, really. I'm almost afraid that by killing you, I'll be sinking to your level, and I can't have that.”

  Dunfield breathed a sigh of relief. The kid wasn't going to kill him, he didn't have the stomach for it.

  “But then I think about everything you did, to me, to my sister, to these people, and I realize that I'm not sinking to your level, not at all. I'm just eliminating a pest.”

  Dunfield's eyes widened. Jack Frost's voice was cold – too cold. He was serious.

  “Okay wait--” Dunfield started to say.

  “Goodbye, Dunfield,” Jack said as he pulled the trigger and listened to the Glock roar. It tore through Dunfield's skull, spraying blood and pouring chunks of brain matter onto the stage. The body of Dunfield slumped over, landing headfirst, ass in the air. Jack stepped away from the body in disgust, but not disgust of Dunfield – disgust that he'd just killed a man. Moments ago, General Dunfield had been a living, breathing human being. A twitch of Jack's hand had ended the man's life, and he simply was not comfortable with that. Who was he to decide who should live and who should die? Who had be become in that moment? He had seen so many movies, and read so many books where the hero had refused to kill their nemesis on the basis that it would change them. He often wondered what type of strength an individual would need to have in that moment. Had he killed Dunfield because he didn't have the strength, or had he done it because it was the only thing to do? All of these thoughts invaded his head as he took in the faces of the crowd, looking from them, back to the body, and back again.