Journals of the Damned (Book 1)

by GJ Zukow

  I was so wrapped up in watching the monitors that I hadn't noticed Allan leaving the room. I was furious when on the monitor I saw one of the front double doors open and the driver rushed into my sanctuary. Allan really pissed me off with that bone headed move, he didn't even ask me for my opinion before rushing off and letting this unknown inside. Not to sound cruel but the driver had drawn a horde of the undead to us like flies on shit. Thinking back now, and Allan reminded me of this, even if the guy had gotten eaten, there at our doorstep, there would still be an unholy swarm waiting for us. The difference I told him, was that now they knew there was flesh to be eaten inside. They will not stop trying to find a way in now. He humbled me with asking since when did it become morally justifiable to watch another human being die. Still, he should have at least told me what he was going to do, instead of just doing it.

  The driver, a large (not fat) man of around thirty or so, went right to the bar and poured himself a couple of shots as soon as he saw the bottles. The blood was starting to dry and cake in his short blonde hair. He had to be over six foot tall by at least four inches and he was quite muscular. If the circumstances were different I might have found him handsome, if not for his age.

  After a few moments (and a few shots), he told us how he had ended up here.

  His name was David and he, his girlfriend and her son had been stuck in one of the Disney World resort hotels since just before the animal madness had hit. When the madness over-ran the animal kingdom almost all air traffic ceased. When air travel did resume there was a huge backlog of people desperate to get back to wherever it was they came from. Air fares went up drastically with the demand and he found it cheaper to stay at the hotel for another couple of weeks than to pay the grossly overinflated prices, content to wait until the prices dropped. Then the Scarlet came and changed everything. He had gotten tickets for him and his little family but when the day came to go to the airport it was way too dangerous to leave the hotel.

  The last day they had gone outside of their hotel room they had spent the day at Disney World. It was there that he knew what the Scarlet would do (except for the whole dead rising from the grave thing).

  While they were on the Haunted House ride, a ride that they had been on before, he saw something that wasn't part of the make believe. His girl and her son hadn't picked up on it, thinking that they had simply missed it the last time they had been through the attraction. While there certainly is a lot of sights crowded into the ride and it could have been something they had failed to see before, he knew it was too real. No amount of props or preparation could disguise what he saw. He was a combat veteran of Iraq and Afghanistan, he knew what the dead really looked like (and smelled like). Instead of correcting his lover and her child's mistake, he let them believe what they saw was fake. He didn't tell them that some of the heads on stakes were real. He didn't mention the blood and dismembered bodies in some of the exhibits were real. Instead he kept his mouth shut until they were back at the hotel room and the boy was asleep. Then he told his girlfriend the horrifying truth.

  By then both his girlfriend and her kid had started showing the red splotches that marked all of the infected.

  When they finally died, he and another uninfected person (a hotel employee) dragged the bodies outside and dumped them into a drained pool. The pool, once filled with sparkling clear water was now a charnel pit, filled with a bonfire of the dead.

  They could not find and dump the bodies into the flames fast enough. Soon the unthinkable had happened. Soon the dead got back up and hunted down those that had survived.

  He and the hotel employee had hidden until their food ran out. Then they fought their way through the hotel, searching for keys to a vehicle so they could escape.

  The hotel employee didn't make it, he got thronged getting into a van. He was pulled down screaming as the hungering dead ate him alive, bite by bite.

  David had tried to make it to the interstate with the intention of getting into the mountains up north but found huge wrecks and mobs of the undead all over the roads. He was forced off the interstate to go around a huge pile-up. By using the city streets he had hoped to drive far enough past the wreckage and then get back on at another on ramp. He got lost instead. Not far from here, he had to drive around another accident scene and when he did, he found himself smack dab in the middle of a horde of the parasite controlled zombies. They swarmed his car and he had to run some over to get past them. One of the filthy dead things had gotten in his way and he hit it, only for it to come crashing through his windshield. The things dead hands gripped the steering wheel as it tried vainly to pull its mangled body close enough to bite him. He didn't want to stop because the dead were all around. The door wouldn't open, one of the zeds he had hit had crumpled the front quarter panel into the door and jammed it. He would have had to take the time to crawl out the window, and that extra time he feared, would be enough time for the undead to reach him. The monsters hand held the steering wheel in a vice-like grip, setting the horn off. He thought his only option was to drive on, hoping to be able to finally beat the zombies decomposing skull to pulp with his meaty fists or throwing it clear of the car by wildly swerving. Before that happened, the vile thing wrapped both of its hands on the wheel and the car went out of control, ending up a twisted heap mere feet away from the entry door.

  The undead are pounding at the building and their numbers are growing. The doors are solid and sturdy, they look as if they will hold for a long time. I don't actually know if they will eventually give up or if someone else will come along and draw their unwanted attention away from us. I'm going to hope for the best but plan for the worst.

  What worries me more than the zeds is David. I barely know the man and I'm not looking forward to having to get used to another person. He seems to have the attitude where he believes he should be in charge based on his physical strength. Maybe I'm mistaken. I hope so. Time will tell.

  Wednesday, November 14, 2012

  It's been almost a month since I could write again. The reason I haven't been writing is David. David turned out to be a mean, brutish drunk. There were times I wanted, badly, to take the time to think and be alone with my thoughts, my writing in the journal provided this. There were a few times I could have done so in the past month but David kept me from it. He didn't physically stop me from writing but I know for a fact he was sneaking into my stuff and had been reading it. If I were to write in this journal, my feelings about the abusive alcoholic would surely be soon known and he would have eventually found out and made a big deal of it. He had already given away the fact that he had read the last entry when he accused me of being a "cold hearted bitch" who would have let him been eaten by the undead just outside the door. That and the fact that all my gear had been rooted through and shabbily replaced.

  I had taken the precaution of hiding the thirty-eight, with its remaining four rounds, the handcuffs and the hand grenades inside the couch. I had tipped the couch over and ripped open some of the covering fabric and stuffed the weapons into the springs and padding. It's a good thing I did, David had soon stolen the M16 and carried it around with him at all times. He also managed to grab the small amount of bullets I had for the M1, leaving me with a weapon that was of little use besides being a glorified club. That left me with the useless M1 carbine and the weapons I had hidden.

  I had confronted him with the theft and his arrogant reply was that he would let me have some ammo, "When, and if, the time came that they were needed. There was no way he was going to let a girl and an idiot cab driver have access to weapons."

  I tried to get my things back from him when he passed out. David, even when plastered from drinking all day, is one of those people that are very light sleepers. He would come awake at the slightest movement or close sound, always thwarting my attempts to steal my stuff back. One of the habits he picked up in the Army he said, sneering at me when I was caught.

  I briefly thought of secreting my journal with the hidden weapons
but I knew he would notice its disappearance. I didn't want him to start searching for it and uncover the stash I had. I tried to take some comfort in the fact that he hadn't found out Allan had hidden his nine millimeter and I still had my backup revolver.

  The first week or so, David, although he had been constantly drinking, had remained mostly quiet and reserved. After he had gotten used to the situation, and Allan and I had been lulled into a false sense of normality with him, he got worse.

  It was then he stole my guns and his true nature became apparent. He drank morning, noon and night, all the time talking about himself and how he was a big shot lawyer before the apocalypse. No matter how much Allan and I tried to keep our distance from him he would relentlessly hound us, bragging about how superior he was. He had done everything and knew everything, in his own mind at least. No matter what our response was to one of his inebriated questions, he always made up some bull to top whatever we said. He was loud and insulting, threatening Allan with violence whenever he felt the least bit insulted or threatened.

  However much we disliked him, neither Allan or I had seriously considered murdering him. We still hoped the zombies, endlessly pounding at the doors, would soon collapse and we would be able to leave the club and David behind.

  That started to change after week two of being trapped with the foul mouthed lout.

  David had progressed to bullying Allan around, physically pushing and shoving him when he got mad. He treated Allan like he was his personal butler (or worse), ordering him to the point where he would dictate what Allan would have to cook for our meals. I could see the fire of hatred starting to burn in Allan's' eyes. I found some brief time alone with Allan when the drunk was passed out, making sure he still had his "nine". I also impressed on Allan the need for him not to kill David because I might have a plan to get us out of here if it came to that. A plan that required a living, breathing David.

  David wasn't just harassing Allan, he was always hitting on me. The sexual innuendo's turned quickly into outright advances and rude statements of how he wanted to fuck me. I always took offense at the remarks and reminded him I was only seventeen and still a virgin. That just seemed to make him want me more and one night he started to grab me. The only thing that made him stop was a beer bottle to his head. He howled in pain and although there was no blood, he ended up with a good sized knot on his noggin. He got up, knocking over the table and Allan came running out of the kitchen to see what was happening. Before Allan could finish asking what was going on, David sucker punched him, knocking him out cold.

  I attended to Allan, making sure to fuss over him, showing David he was doing nothing more than driving me and Al closer together and freezing him out.

  David went and sulked over a fresh bottle of beer and finally kept quiet for once. I had thought that he had finally learned to quit being such an asshole but it didn't last long.

  That night around three in the morning we were awakened by "Welcome to the jungle" by Guns n Roses. The intoxicated fool was playing the music full blast. Allan and I were horrified. As if it wasn't enough to have a couple of dozen or so of the hungering undead trying to beat down the doors to eat our flesh and brains, now there was going to be even more as every zombie for a block was going hear it and soon make their way here.

  We were yelling and screaming at David to turn the music off and he laughingly mimicked that he couldn't hear us over the music. Allan tried to shut the computer off but David almost gutted him with the bayonet on the M16. Then David pointed the weapon at us until we backed off and he stupidly let off a burst of rounds into the ceiling to make his point.

  He drunkenly laughed at us and finally turned the volume down, but not off.

  "What the fuck does it matter how loud the damn music is you little pussies? Were trapped in here until we either starve to death of the fucking zombies bust in and eat us. The fuckers are already out there and they can't get in. Another handful of them ain't gonna make no difference.", his words came out slurred as he yelled at us.

  "I can't stand listening to the muther fuckin' pounding and clawing at the doors anymore. It's driving me god damned nuts!", Spit flew from his mouth as he screamed at the top of his lungs.

  What happened next was uncalled for. Allan had thought he was out of David's reach but when David quickly used the butt of the M16 to extend his reach he found he wasn't far enough away from the oncoming violence. Allan took the full force of the M16's hard butt straight on, busting open his lip. It didn't stop there and before I could react, David had hit him with the blunt end of the weapon repeatedly, administering viscous kicks to him when he went down. I rushed over and as hard as I could I pushed David off of the bleeding and unconscious body of Allan, only to have the M16 swung at me. David stopped though, spitting on Al before he sat back down in the DJ booth.

  That's when I seriously decided that David would die soon.

  For the following week, David seemed to have cooled back down. His ferocious attack on Allan seemed to let out some of his stress. Not once did David inquire about Allan's injuries, instead he stared at him with open contempt.

  Luckily Allan didn't suffer any broken bones but his face was a swollen mass of bruises. That's when I told Allan we were going to get rid of David as soon as he healed up.

  This morning Allan's face had finally looked almost normal. The pain was gone and all that remained from his beating are fading black bruises.

  We would have to get out of here soon, the number of flesh eating ghouls outside was so great now that their mass was spilling into the side lot and they were starting to congregate at the rear door also. The noise of them was getting louder with every passing day. It was becoming impossible to block the sound of them out, no matter how hard I tried. Damn David and his drunken late night music, he had turned a bad situation into one where if we didn't get out soon we would be completely surrounded.

  David's mood was cycling again, he was becoming the nasty, violent, drunken, bastard he was before. The warning signs were quite clear to me now, soon there would come the inevitable violent outburst. It wouldn't be long until he came after me.

  I was taking my last shower, Allan and I were planning on leaving tomorrow. David's actions only forced our hands to leave sooner. We might have actually left him alive when we left, but not now. Now he was going to die a horrible death.

  I was always apprehensive showering in the same building with David and had placed a bar stool behind the door to the performers (strippers) locker room to warn me if anybody entered. It was also standard procedure for one of us to place a stool in front of the door to let everyone know someone was using the shower. Besides, Allan would shout out a warning if David tried to come in, that was what we planned anyways.

  He caught me unaware as I showered. He came at me from behind and wrapped one vile hand around my mouth as his other hand started exploring my body.

  "I will cut you up in little damn pieces and feed you to the zombies outside if you fight me.", His breath was hot and foul, smelling of booze.

  I was shocked. What the hell did he do to Allan. He must have done something to Allan, otherwise Al would have surely warned me of David coming in to rape me.

  His touch revolted me and I tried to squirm away from him. He put his full weight into my back, pressing me so tightly up against the tile wall of the shower that I thought I would suffocate.

  My mind was screaming in loathing at the thought of losing my virginity to a drunken rapist. As his vile hand forced its way between my thighs I instinctively fought as hard as I could.

  I am sure now he had done this before, he easily had over a hundred pounds on me and effortlessly countered every one of my struggles to be free of him. I tried to bite the hand that was covering my mouth but then he gripped my windpipe and squeezed. Pain shot into my neck, causing my eyes to water. I found it was all I could do just to take a breath. He forced his feet between mine and overpowered my legs, opening them up wide and keeping me off balance at
the same time.

  There came a brief merciful moment when his hand left my groin. I was praying to the Gods that maybe he was reconsidering what he was about to do. I tried to scream as I heard him unbuckle his belt and the sound of his zipper being opened came horribly to my ears. The only sound I was able to make was a harsh rasping that made me want to cough, his grip on my throat was extremely tight and I thought he was going to break my trachea.

  "Calm down you hot little bitch, Just relax and lets' get this over with. You're going to like the feeling of my hard dick sliding in and out of your tight pussy."

  I could hear the lust in his voice, his foul breath came in pants that assailed my nose.

  "Be a good girl and make me come quick or I'm gonna fuck your tight little ass too." He said as he pressed his lower body into me.

  Momentarily I felt the head of his prick trying to force its way inside me and I struggled against him in vain. There came a crazy thought into my head to go limp and let him do what he wanted just to get this over with as quickly as possible.

  That's when a loud thump came from behind me and David let out a groan of pain.

  "What the fu...", was all David completed of his next sentence, being interrupted by another fleshy sounding thump.