The Z Strain

by Matthew Isaiah Crawford

  Gunfire erupted with a deafening bellow, smoke began to rise from the edges of the corn in little grey tufts.

  Robert and Joel fell in the road ten feet away from each other.

  “Go move, out the back, run!” Nancy was just entering the living room after hearing the scuffle. Gary turner her around and pushed her out of the living room.

  “Why? What? Wait? What’s going on? Where’s Robert?” These questions and more spilled from her mouth as Gary ushered her through the kitchen and out the back door.

  Gary got her to run, and they ran for at least ten minutes before ducking behind a large piece of farming equipment. Gary climbed up on the wheel and scanned the distance for any movement. He watched for a good long minute before he was certain that they weren’t being followed.

  “Jesus Christ... what happened... back there? Nancy asked out of breath.

  “The children. They were waiting.” Gary said sliding his back down in the shade against the giant wheel. He wiped the sweat and dirt from his brow.

  “Are they both?”

  “Yea.”

  “Jesus, why did Robert even go outside?”

  “I tried to stop him.” Gary said. He was still sucking air.

  “He got himself killed for nothing.” Nancy was crying and fell to her knees next to Gary putting her face in her hands.

  “If you care about someone enough to sacrifice your own life for theirs.” Gary sighed putting his hand on the back of her head. “Eventually, in this world, I think you’ll have that opportunity.”

  Three miles east

  Samantha had moved to what the children were calling the watchtower. The attic at the top of the house had a small patio extending from the window which wrapped around the left side of the house. Elliot, the red head kid with the sniper rifle was standing at the corner of the balcony looking off at the horizon. He switched back and forth between scanning the field for movement and peering through his scope. He was tracking a group coming through the corn. They were about fifty feet from emerging. Elliot moved to the window.

  “They’re almost here Samantha.” Elliot said poking his head through. Samantha sat at a desk in the back of the room going through a pile of books. She had changed into a black tank top and a pair of jeans. Her white hair flowing out freely in wild curls.

  The attic room had a steep angled roof and the floor was red wood, and full of pock marks from age. There is a small unmade mattress sitting on a rusty frame on the right side of the room. The rest of the room was bare other than the desk Samantha is sitting at. Rising from the desk and gliding across the room. Her bare feet slap quietly against the hardwood floor. She leaned against the window and looks out at the rows of corn. It didn’t take long before people began emerging from the rows.

  She saw two boys walking a red wheelbarrow, a young man’s legs dangling from the front. His face has several bullet holes in it. She’s happy when a boy and a girl emerge from the corn with a yellow wheelbarrow with a nearly identical cargo. Her elation disappeared when she saw the last two wheelbarrows come out of the corn empty. She climbed out through the window standing out on the porch. Her eyes outlined with heavy black eyeliner are filled with rage.

  Stepping out the window she stands at the balcony on top of the house. She waits as the children line up in front of the house. She singled out Timothy, who was in charge of the expedition, by pointing at him. He took two steps in front of the others. He has straight hair that hangs down past his eyes, he’s constantly pushing it out of his face. His shirt reads “Sarcastic comment loading” with a spinning wheel on it. His blue jeans are ripped at the knee and appear to be about a size and a half too big for him. She glares down at him and his eyes lower to the ground.

  “Your job was simple! You had more than enough weapons. How did you let them escape?”

  “They knew.” He said rubbing the side of his face.

  “What do you mean they knew?”

  “We were all set up around the key, but they never came out for it. Next thing you know we see them running off the other direction. We started chasing them, but by the time we realized it was only one of them the other three had disappeared.” Timothy looked up hoping she would accept his explanation.

  “Wait, I don’t understand.” Samantha said shaking her head. “If three of them got away how did you come back with two?”

  “We were back at the key after we had lost the runner too, we were hoping they would try for it again. And he did, the runner came back for the key, we were about to ambush him when his friend came running out of a building and we got both of them. We never saw the other two.”

  “Send notice to the outposts to stay on high alert. I want to know which direction these fuckers are going.” She said pacing back and forth.

  “Yes ma’am” Timothy said.

  “Take the bodies round back to Phil.” Timothy turned and walked back to the group. “And Timothy?” Samantha said atop her tower. “You and your friends are volunteering for overnight watch.” She sneered before stepping back in through the window.

  “Yes ma’am” They said in unison as she departed. Hushed complaints resounded amongst the children as they push their wheelbarrows around the right side of the house. The two empty ones were left in some horse stalls that lined the right side of the property.

  One of the boys stood behind Timothy complaining louder than the others.

  “We been out chasing these fuckers all day! Now we have to stay up all night? There’s no way. I can’t stay up all night.”

  “Shut up Tad. You know what happens if you fall asleep on post.” A little girl said.

  They caught up with the two loaded wheelbarrows were being delivered to the back door. Tim walked up the two steps and knocked on a screen door that rattled in its frame.

  A twelve-year-old boy appeared at the back door. He looked down at the wheelbarrows in disgust.

  “Sorry Phil. But you had to know this was coming.” Timothy said.

  “I know, doesn’t mean I’m looking forward to it.” Phil said crinkling his nose.

  “You were the one who told her you had experience butchering animals.”

  “Yea, but, like chickens’ man. Not this.” Phil’s head leaned to the side. “Will you at least help carry him in?”

  “Sure, come on guys.” Timothy said motioning to the body. Several stepped in and grabbed a limb. They struggled carrying Joel into the back door of the kitchen, his head dangling lifelessly bounced off the back step. All the children grunted as they hoisted him up on the kitchen island.

  Out of breath the four boys exited the back door and retuned their wheelbarrows to the side of the house.

  They walked around the side of the house and up the steps to the front door in silence. As they walked through the rooms were sparsely decorated with only a couple of folding chairs, and some egg cartons being used as both seats and tables. There were children scattered throughout the house. Some children were cleaning, others were setting up for dinner, and some others were sleeping. Those scheduled for night shift are allowed to sleep during the day.

  Elliot, the red-haired boy walking down the stairs and positioned himself near the boys.

  “Well she chewed your ass pretty good huh?” Elliot said. The four boys all looked at him with annoyed faces.

  “She is so pissed. You’re lucky if you don’t get the stockade.

  “She’s not that pissed.” Tim shrugged. “She gave us night watch, but we’ll survive.”

  “Good luck.” Elliot said. He departed from the group and strolled out on to the front porch kicking a piece of debris out into the yard.

  The four boys mounted the stairs and shuffled up the stairs. Samantha was waiting impatiently inside the room.

  “You fuckups. How could you lose them? They were all handcuffed for Christ sake!” Samantha screamed. No one answered, the four of them stared at the floor. Tim was the first one to look up at her, and he immediately regretted it. Her eyes seemed to be made o
f fire, and her nostrils were flared out. “Move.” She hissed. The boys quickly departed stepping out through the window out onto the balcony.

  Kevin Donaldson had short curly hair and he was smaller than most of the other boys his age. He was normally a shy and quiet boy, with everyone except Tim, his best friend, he was the only person left in this world that he trusted. With the other two boys at the far end of the porch he took this opportunity and walked sheepishly up to his friend who was scanning the field with a set of binoculars.

  “I’m scared Tim.” Kevin said quietly.

  “About what?” Tim asked. He didn’t take his eyes out of the scopes. He knew who was talking to him.

  “Samantha mostly.”

  “Yea, I know what you mean.” Tim chuckles.

  “I’m pretty sure she killed Brandon. And Quinn said he saw her go back to the bus to kill Mr. Peters.”

  “I know, I heard about Mr. Peters. They said she told him she was there to help him, because his leg was broken. She just walked behind him all calm and slit his throat like it was nothing.” Tim put the binoculars down and looked at his friend. He wasn’t watching the fields. He was staring at the window as if he were expecting the boogeyman to pop out of it.

  “We should go.” Kevin said. Tim looked at his friend with pity. He was still staring at the open window.

  “She would kill us for sure if she catches us. You know that, don’t you?” Tim said leaning against the back rail.

  “We could get away, I know you could come up with a plan. You’re the smartest.”

  “The only way I can think of is if we get sent off to scavenge again. Maybe we can duck the group then.”

  “You have to get away. She’s going to kill more of us, and she hates me.”

  “All right. All right.” Tim put his arm around Kevin. “So. Do we ask anyone else to come?” Kevin looked up with anxious eyes. Tim rarely asked his advice.

  “Quinn for sure. Devon maybe. Chrystal and Emily would probably go if you asked them. They don’t like me.”

  “We need to be careful who we talk to. You can trust Quinn. If anything happens, go to him okay?”

  “Okay. I will.” Said Kevin.

  They both turned and resumed their job of staring at empty fields of corn for movement.

  Pennsylvania

  An overturned and burned out semi blocked the entire highway forcing Mark, John, and Margaret off the highway at Fox Chapel. Since then they had been weaving their way in and out of side streets. Twice there were large groups of dead that tried to swarm the car, but Mark was pretty adept behind the wheel and did well maneuvering away from them.

  The downside was with all the quick twists and turns they had made they really had no idea where they were, the light was fading fast, and they didn’t have a map.

  They came across a neighborhood filled with very nice, expensive houses. Mark stopped the car in front of a high iron gate. The entire property was surrounded by fifteen-foot walls, other than the gate itself. John jumped out of the passenger side and walked up to the gate. He pushed, and at first the gate didn’t budge. With some extra effort he pushed his thin frame into the gate as hard as he could. The left side finally giving way after his face had turned a bright color of red. Mark drove the car through the open gate and backed into it to make a barricade.

  “This house is amazing.” Mark said. They all took in the view as they approached the magnificent house. The lawn, and each shrub professionally manicured. They walked up to the front of the house, and John stuck his face in the front window.

  “Seriously.” John said cupping his hands around his face. Through the window John could see a grand piano sitting in the middle of a sitting room adorned with red velvet furniture. There was a chandelier glistening on the ceiling that appeared to be made of gold. He pulled his face away from the window and walked past Mark who was checking the front door with negative results.

  They followed the long gravel driveway that lead to the back of the house. As they turned the corner at the back of the house, they saw a very nice, seemingly brand new, Mercedes sitting in the driveway. Inside the Mercedes was a family of undead scrambling against the windows trying to get out. The father, a middle-aged man with a hole in his cheek in the driver’s seat. His wife, an obese woman in a yellow dress pressing behind him. In the back seat the two children. A son who looked to be about six with a grey and blue striped shirt. All of his little fingers had broken against the glass. Behind him strapped in a car seat was a baby girl no more than a year old with a large bitemark on her stomach.

  “Jesus. No.” Margaret said covering her mouth as she caught sight of the baby.

  “Look at the parent’s shoulders, it must have been the boy that turned.” John exclaimed.

  “Why does that matter?” Margaret asked turning away from the car.

  “I don’t know, just noticed I guess.” Mark also turned away from John and the car and saw the back door of the house hanging ajar. He pulled out his steel pipe and walked through the doorway.

  Inside they found the kitchen area in shambles.

  “Think it was looted?” Asked John.

  “Yea, just hope they’re gone.” Said Mark. “Come on. Be quiet.”

  Mark and John moved from room to room and were not disappointed by any of them, despite the mess, the house was spectacular. Within five minutes the house was cleared. They secured the back door and set up camp upstairs. They were all still paranoid about being on ground level. They blockaded the stairs with a sofa sleeper before deciding to hang out in what could only be described as a lounge on the upper floor. There were three recliners and a giant flat screen TV, probably ninety inches. A four-stool bar lined the left side of the room. On the right there was a dart board and a couple vintage video games. One was names simply Karate, the other was a racing game called Top Gear. Mark caught John staring at them.

  “Ever played?” He asked walking up behind him.

  “These, no, never heard of either of them.” John said shaking his head.

  “I played that one when I was a kid.” Mark said gesturing at the Karate game. It was pretty fun for the time.”

  “Aaaah, the good old days.” Sighed Margaret as she sat down into one of the recliners.

  “Yea. The good old days.” John repeated. “What do you think you’re going to miss most?”

  “You mean now that the world has moved on?” Asked Margaret putting up her feet and resting her hands behind her head.

  John and Mark moved away from the video games and started searching through the various different cabinets behind the bar.

  “Yea.” John said.

  “Pizza.” Jackie said thoughtfully. “Pizza and soap operas.” She said with a smile.

  “Ugh you watched that shit?” John asked sounding repulsed.

  “My guilty pleasure. Loved my stories. What about you?”

  “Me?” John shrugged. “I don’t know, movies, music, football, sex. God I’m going to miss a lot about the world. “Mark, how about you?”

  “My kids.” He said without hesitation. His eyes immediately welled up at the thought. The room quieted after that. Mark couldn’t stop thinking about them. “I miss their smiles. I miss their laughter. Every time my family comes to mind it just breaks my heart.”

  “I know it’s not the same, but I think about my mom. How helpless she was. How horribly she probably died.” Said John.

  “We’ve all lost people.” Margaret said. “All we can do is remember them well.” They all nodded and had a moment of silence together.

  “Holy shit!” Mark exclaimed pulling a nearly full bottle of Jamison Irish Whiskey out of a pantry.

  “Man, I love you!” John yelled, he immediately searched for glasses and pulled several out from behind the bar. Mark poured a generous four fingers into each glass.

  Pittsburgh

  Seventeen miles away as the last of the daylight faded in the sky, Herb woke up naked in what he believed to be a shipping container. I
t was dark and musty inside and smelled of rust. Every bone and muscle in his body screaming in agony. His left eye is swollen shut, there is a three-inch laceration on his right cheek, and both lips are split open. He slowly gets to his feet and walks to the end of the container. The doors are locked. He considered banging yelling, screaming out for help. But he knew that would only bring back the men in uniform that had beat him and thrown him in here in the first place. Herb paced back and forth across the container several times before squatting down in the corner. Alone in the darkness, Herb began to sob.

  He and Jackie had departed the Westin from a side stairwell door. They had moved quietly, sticking mostly to the alleys. They were able to pass through the city without any problems. Twenty minutes later they stood at the riverbank. It didn’t take long for someone on the boat to notice them.

  “Got here just in time, it looks like they’re getting ready to leave.” Herb said. Jackie didn’t mention it at the time, but she was getting a very bad feeling. Within a minute there were four soldiers in a raft heading for shore. They stood and waited patiently for the boat to arrive.

  “Thank God you guys came.” Herb said. As the boat arrived the four men jumped out of the boat guns raised.

  “On your knees! Drop the weapon!” One of the soldiers yelled, Herb dropped the axe on the ground.

  “Hands on your head. Interlace your fingers.” Another soldier said. Herb and Jackie both complied. Jackie looked over at Herb, and she knew he was just as scared as she was. One soldier stood five feet on front of them with his weapon trained on them. One stood behind him and he was scanning up towards the street making sure there were no undead heading their way. The other two proceeded to search them for any other weapons. When they found nothing but a small knife they stepped away and again all raised their guns towards them.

  “Now strip.” One soldier said. Herb noticed one of the other boys had a smile on his face and was staring at Jackie.

  “Excuse me?” She asked.

  “Sir, we need to check you for bites.” The soldier explained.