The Undead World (Book 1): The Apocalypse

by Meredith, Peter

  They had thought to avoid Oklahoma City by cutting south, but ended up running smack into a legion of zombies that dotted the plain like herds of buffalo. They high-tailed it back and went around the city northward and then was forced north again to bypass Tulsa.

  The next day they crossed over into Missouri and from then on water wasn't a problem and gas was more plentiful, however the zombies were thick as flies and the armed town of Mountain Grove, a most inhospitable group of suspicious people had them again detouring north, so it was that tired and a bit cranky they came upon the last barrier to the east, the Mississippi River in the late afternoon.

  “How the fuck are we going to cross that?” Cassie asked. The black water was a thousand feet wide at its narrowest. Cassie had tried to be surly after Amarillo, only it seemed to take a lot of effort on her part and she gave it up on her own after a few hours—something Julia had foreseen. Not that she was any more pleasant to be around, but she wasn't worse.

  “I'm sure there are bridges,” Julia answered.

  A person would think so, however Ram went south on the western bank for miles and though he saw plenty of signs for ferry crossings it was an hour of slow driving before he saw a sign for a bridge, and then when he came up to it he saw that it had been demolished. A part of the span had fallen into the river and there was a great clogging of boats and debris beneath what was left—and not to mention zombies.

  Even a quarter mile away he could see them swarming. He made to turn around, but the road was narrow with abandoned cars and so he went closer, hoping to find a good spot.

  “There are people down there,” Julia said. She pointed beneath the bridge where the debris had melded into a shifting island of sorts.

  “They is good as dead,” Cassie put in, her face looking a little disgusted. “I don't want to watch that.”

  A single shot split the air and Ram had hope that if more were to come the people would be able to fight their way to freedom, however that one shot was all that came and now he could see the three people fighting with strange weapons.

  “What are you doing?” Julia asked. At first he didn't know what she meant, but then he realized he had floored the Bronco and was speeding to the near end of the bridge.

  He hadn't given it any thought, but the answer didn't seem to require any. “We're going to help. I'll work the SAW. Julia, you keep the stiffs off of me and Cassie keep me supplied with ammo.”

  “Why do I have to…” Cassie started, but he spoke over her.

  “Because Sarah's a better shot and because she's hurt and can’t run back and forth. Now get me the gun,” he said this slamming on the brakes and literally hopping out of the car. His knee still bothered him and a one-legged hop was his quickest mode of ambulation. “Hurry!” he ordered. The three were only still alive because the makeshift island was not easy for the zombies to cross, however more were coming up out of the water right at their feet.

  Cassie came huffing up with the SAW in one hand and the first ammo can in the other. “Thanks. I'll need two more.” In the time it took him to say that he had laid bare the feed tray, slapped down the links, thinking to himself: Brass to the grass as he he'd been trained and then smacked down the cover.

  In a second, tracer rounds, like zipping glow bugs showed him exactly where to fire.

  Chapter 40

  Neil

  Mississippi River

  When the machine gun opened up with a sound like a thundering jackhammer, Neil didn't even notice. His senses were already on overload as he fought like he never could have conceived he was capable of.

  This was partly because he had managed to get his feet wedged in between his boat and that of another. This sturdy platform gave him a great advantage over the zombies who moved in a drunken lurch under the best of situations. Still, his arms were tired after a minute of swinging the axe, and he knew that in another minute his breath would be ragged and reactions slow, while the zombies would never tire.

  But then right next to him, part of the Bayliner seemed to be coming apart in little fist sized explosions, and as he watched the same thing happened to the zombies on that side. What was happening? He swung the axe again, feeling his attacks already growing less crisp than they had been, yet still managing to knock the stiff into the water.

  Just then something yellow blazed past his face and there came a crack right near him. It was then that he noticed the gunner on the hill above the destroyed bridge firing down at them—he felt an instant panic as he saw the tracers zipping by almost within arm's reach.

  “Is he shooting at us?” Sadie asked, cringing low. The answer came a second later as the tracers ripped the air in front of them, laying out the zombies, sending chunks flying and turning the confused island slick with their black blood.

  “He's clearing a path,” Sarah said, however when Neil and Sadie scrambled up the island, she didn't budge. “I won't go with the army. I'll take my chances here.”

  Neil clubbed down a stiff that had an arm shot away, before he cried, “You can't stay here. I won't let you.”

  He began to slide back down to her when Sadie said, “He's not army. He's just a guy and he's got two women with him, see they're on either side? It'll be alright, Sarah. Please come on.” She was nervous because the firing had ceased and the zombies were coming up at her, alone as she was at the top of the pile.

  “I'll protect you,” Neil said to Sarah, holding his hand out to her. It hurt to see that she didn't believe that he could. He read it clearly in her eyes and so he added. “I'll try my best.”

  This brought a twitch to her face that he took for a smile and she grabbed his hand just as the machine gun began chattering again. As it did, Sadie held her arms in and just stood there as bullets tore the air all around her. “That guy's good,” Neil said in awe as he pulled Sarah along. When they gained the top he had to stop and hack away at the zombies coming up the lee side of the mound where the machine gun's bullets couldn't reach. “Go on. Go on,” he ordered, backing up slowly, waiting until his footing was secure before taking his swings.

  From an outside perspective he seemed cool and deliberate. Up close he was breathing so heavily he couldn't tell if he was close to exhaustion or near to panicking. A little of both he decided.

  Someone up the hill suddenly yelled, “Get down!”

  Of course just then the island took that moment to shift beneath his feet as something in its “foundation” broke free and spun down the river. A gap, that was more like a chasm in his mind, opened up between him and safety, and instead of getting down, he actually leapt. The bullets were so close they warmed his face as they passed, however Neil couldn't pay them any mind. His axe was gone, sliding down the flat face of a barge to slip forever out of his reach in the black water below and worse he couldn't find a hold for his feet. Everything was slick with blood and water.

  But then the undulating island came together again for just the briefest moment and he was able to heave himself onto the nearer section. Now there was a straight shot to get to the western bank of the river and he took it as quickly as he could, wobbling with his hands out for balance. The gunner saw this him moving and so decided to turn his attention to closer problems. The near bank was alive with the dead, closing in on the gunner and the people he had just saved.

  Neil saw that the gunner wasn't the only one armed. A woman, pale and slim with short red hair, shot an M16, working it like she was on assembly line. Bam—Bam! Turn aim, Bam—Bam! Turn aim. Her targeting wasn't near as good as the gunner's, but still the zombies were generally easy to hit and she kept a lane open as Neil came running up.

  “Get in!” the girl…the woman, said. Up close her actual age, somewhere in her late twenties, became more apparent. “You can drive, right?” she asked Neil indicating the Ford Bronco.

  What kind of question was that? “Yes. Of course,” he replied, hurrying to the driver's seat. Sarah climbed in and Sadie squeezed into the far back where a mess of baggage was piled; s
he looked uncomfortable like a caged cat. Neil darted the Bronco forward, turning it at an angle so that the gunner and the other girl who was with him could get in easily. Beside him the red head slammed the passenger side door and yelled across Neil for them to hurry.

  The man, limping badly came last, shoving the machine gun in the back where Sadie crouched. “Mother, that's hot!” she said, sucking her fingers after trying to push it aside.

  “Sorry, I should've warned you not to touch that for a while. My name is Ram. This is Cassie and Julia.”

  Since Neil, with his queasiness unmistakable on his face, was busy clipping zombies, or bouncing over them as he turned the Bronco around, Sarah introduced their group in small voice and added, “That was some fancy shooting with that machine gun, Ram. Are you with the military?”

  “No, I was DEA, but I learned to run a SAW back in California fighting the stiffs. There were plenty of practice dummies to work on, if you know what I mean and everyone rotated carrying the SAW.”

  Neil straightened the car, gave a glance back at Sarah, thinking he would give her a reassuring look, only to feel his own spirits slip at the way she looked at the handsome man across from her. “Thanks,” he said instead. “I just wanted to say thanks for saving us. I know you didn't have to.”

  The woman sitting next to him smiled at this and said, “Actually he did have to. It's in his nature. Tie a woman to a train track and he'll be the first to come swooping in to save the day.”

  To this Neil gave a watery smile and turned back to the road—first this lady doubted that he could drive and now she was suggesting Neil was on the girl's team and in need of rescuing. It made him feel a touch smaller than usual.

  “You can save me anytime you want,” Sadie put in. “That was too fuckin close. They…”

  “Sadie!” Sarah and Neil warned in unison. “A lady doesn't curse,” Sarah added.

  Julia laughed at this and asked, “Are you a family? I see the resemblance between you two—in the full lips and the high cheekbones. You're both very pretty.”

  The two women glanced at each other and Neil saw that Sadie's color had risen at the compliment. “They are very pretty,” Neil agreed. “But we aren't a family except that I'm Sadie's apocalypse dad.” He was hoping Sarah would add her motherly role but the woman remained silent. “It's sort of an honorary title.”

  “No it's a real title,” Sadie said. “I'm a problem child, you know. One in need of direction and constant supervision, because it wouldn't be good if I was to have an independent thought. Right?” She said this with a smirk and nudged Cassie in front of her.

  “Whatever you fucking say,” Cassie said, looking out the window.

  Sadie cleared her throat at this and caught Neil's eye. “How come she can curse and I have to be all prim and proper?”

  Neil couldn't answer this without sounding completely mushy and even less like a man than normal. What would big, tough Ram say if he heard that Neil looked on Sadie as if she was his own child to raise and nurture and protect? And what would he do besides snort in amusement if he knew how Neil felt about Sarah—a woman so far out of his league that even with an apocalypse occurring she wouldn't give him the time of day. She gave truth to the old adage: Not even if you were the last man on earth.

  “Cuz I ain't no fuckin lady,” Cassie remarked, saying what everyone was thinking. Though what she said next certainly wasn't. “There's enough white people in the world without me sticking my pinkie up in the air and trying to act all white.”

  This made for an uncomfortable few minutes for everyone but Cassie and Sadie. The youngest of the group seemed to thrive in uncomfortable settings. “I don't think there are enough white people. I don't think there are enough people in general, but clearly there is one too many racists left.”

  “What'd you just call me?” Cassie barked, turning to glare. “You just called me a racist? Is that what you just did?”

  Sadie met the glare with an innocent and slightly puzzled look. “I think so. I did…yes, now I'm sure of it.”

  Neil glanced in the rear view mirror, worried that Sadie's behavior would jeopardize their very precarious situation—they had no shelter, no car, no weapons, no food and no water. They were completely dependent on these people.

  “Sadie, please, we are their guests,” he said with a nod and a disarming smile to Julia, next to him. In the back Sadie started to open her mouth to protest her unfair treatment—and he saw that it was unfair. Simply because she was the youngest she was being told what to do, something that would be considered rude if she was a year or two older like Cassie.

  “So where am I going?” he asked, trying to change the subject and lighten the mood.

  “We're going to Atlanta,” Cassie said, making it clear that she didn't want the new people tagging along. “Who knows where you're going.”

  Right behind him Ram sighed in evident frustration. “The Center for Disease Control is based in Atlanta,” he said. “We're hoping that they have a cure, or are very close to finding one. You're welcome to join us if you want to.”

  “Damn the king has spoken,” Cassie said, looking past a very uncomfortable Sarah, and out the window. “What happened to voting? Tell me that. Where was my input?”

  “You're welcome to speak your mind,” Julia said. “We always want your input.”

  “Right, sure you do,” Cassie seethed. “You've already made up your minds. You just sees more white people to Klan up with. What I see is more mouths to feed. More people for me to step and fetch for. What do they have? Huh? What do they bring to the group? Any of you a doctor? Or a soldier? Do you gots any guns?”

  “Just the one,” Neil said with a sinking feeling. Cassie wasn't wrong, the three of them didn't bring anything to the table. “It's empty. We only had five bullets and we used them up.”

  “And we're not doctors,” Sarah said. “I was a pharmacy rep and Sadie was in high school and Neil only worked on Wall Street. And none of us can fight, at least not like you, Ram.”

  “Hold on, Sarah!” Sadie stormed. “What do you mean none of us can fight? Did you not see Neil with his axe? He was fucking heroic just now saving your life—and no, I'm not going to watch my tongue, not if bad words is all you can notice. Jeeze! Open your eyes. He's been fighting zombies without a gun for days now. Let's see anyone else do that.”

  “It was just a few of them,” Neil said, not wanting to give anyone the impression that he was some sort of badass, which was laughable on its face. “And it was only four days.”

  “You see?” Cassie went on. “All they gots is their sorry ass selves.”

  “It still's impressive to me,” Ram said. “Five minutes without a gun, I'd be pissing myself. Lucky for you we can help. We have plenty of ammunition for your M16, and extra guns, though they are just handguns. Still they’re better than nothing.”

  Cassie began to splutter at the idea of Ram giving up their weapons, but then Julia spoke in a low voice that had them all leaning in to her. “Cassie, you need to stop. You're demonstrating the classic self-fulfilling prophecy to a T. You're so worried that we will form as a group and kick you out that you are pushing us away. It's a form of behavior, making true what would normally be false.”

  “She was a psychologist,” Ram explained to the now quiet car—which only had the quiet deepening.

  “Don't worry, Cass,” Sadie said patting the girl on the shoulder. “I'm crazy too. I don't know the psycho-nut job word, but I'm the world's worst follower. I ran track because I had friend who did it. I got into Goth because a friend got into Goth, and at the same time I had a friend who was into Hello Kitty, so beneath my black clothes I always wore Hello Kitty underwear. That's messed up, right?”

  “I'm the world's worst mother,” Sarah said, in a low voice. Sadie's confession was clearly designed to make Cassie comfortable with Julia's off the cuff diagnosis, while Sarah's had the car going quiet again.

  “I'm almost OCD,” Neil said, quickly. “Or I was.
I would go around in the summer at night and check the garden hoses to see if I left them running. I even did it when it was raining. I used to always double check my locks, which didn't do me a lick of good since I'd open my door to a criminal if she looked lost.”

  This had been directed at Sadie, who added, “Oh yeah, I was burglar because this guy was doing it and it seemed cool. I robbed Neil.”

  “I've got some sort of hero complex,” Ram said. He had been smiling as he said this, but it disappeared. “And I left friends to die,” he whispered.

  Julia took a deep breath and patted Cassie on her knee. “You see? We all have problems and we all have fears and we all make mistakes. It's what makes us human. But what makes us good humans is that we don't turn people away who need our help, not when we have so much and they have nothing. I'm with Ram. I vote that they can come.”

  “I'd like to go to the CDC,” Neil said. “We were just going to hide out somewhere and wait on a cure, but I'll only go if Sarah and Sadie want to come as well.” Sarah nodded and gave Neil a small smile.

  “I only want to go if we get our own car,” Sadie said, trying to stretch out on top of all of the gear. “And if I can curse.”

  Neil shook his head. “Then we're leaving you. If I hear anything more than poop, fart or wiener coming out of your mouth, you'll be in big trouble.”

  Chapter 41

  Ram

  Kentucky

  In the few hours left before sunset, they accomplished very little in Ram's view.

  They managed to cross the river in the town of Cape Girardeau, which was a hair-raising experience as the bridge had been purposefully blocked. Cars were stacked across the roadway, three high.