PATHOGENS: Who Will Survive the Zombie Apocalypse? (Click Your Poison Book 4)

by James Schannep

  “Two tickets,” Celly corrects.

  You nod, holding the golden ticket just out of the guard’s reach. He thinks about it, weighing his options. After what feels like forever, he finally puts out a hand and says, “Fuck it, give me the ticket.”

  “And you get us outta here.”

  “You’ll get your door open, but that’s all I can do. Hell, I’ll open all the doors on my way out. This place is fucked anyway. We called for riot support, but the police said they’re busy. Tried a state of emergency with the Governor, but he already declared one for the city. Gonna give me that ticket, or not?”

  • Hold out for a better deal. Tell him you want a ride out with him, then you’ll give him the ticket.

  • I’m just lucky this poor bastard thinks somebody’ll be around to cash that ticket. Hand it over, then wait for the doors to open.

  MAKE YOUR CHOICE

  Working Late

  The rest of the house has the same rifled-through appearance that comes from looters hoping to make a quick score: Most of the food and medicines are gone, but that’s about it. Can’t eat the flat-screen TV. Still, you close and barricade the front door to prevent unwanted visitors from wandering in during the night.

  Nolan’s parents don’t return. It obviously frightens the boy, but you’re not sure how to comfort him. The only comforting thought you have is, if we haven’t seen their bodies, they might still be alive. But for a child, that might just make his nightmares worse. Instead, the most you can offer is a smile and assurances that everything will be okay.

  The next morning, you decide that if they’re not back by now, they probably aren’t coming back.

  Haley’s house might be “on the way” to Nathanael’s, but it’s certainly not close. It’s in a newer development, one that backs up against the marshes, so you follow the long road away from suburbia and into swamp-front property marketed as “Gladedale Estates.”

  Stomachs rumbling, you hope that whether or not you find Haley’s parents, there will at least be something to eat. There’s a greasy spoon restaurant just off the road and you watch as each of your students lock onto the diner, their heads moving in unison. Your own salivary glands tingle at the prospect.

  • It’s worth a quick detour. Someone passing out from hunger would be a longer delay.

  • Keep moving. Her house is out of the way, but only a few hours of walking remain.

  MAKE YOUR CHOICE

  Worn Out His Welcome

  The house remains unmolested by looters, so you key the deadbolt and head inside. It’s perfectly calm and quiet, like the annual after-Thanksgiving pre-football nap. But that could all change in a minute. Better hurry. Jason hangs back behind you, the same way he used to during a stormy night on camping trips.

  The door is closed, presumably with the wounded man still sleeping inside. You listen in, but can’t hear anything. Hmmm. When you look back to Jason, your brother simply nods.

  Probably best to:

  • Slowly open the door, rifle at the ready, just like Dad showed you.

  • Knock on the door. Wouldn’t want to barge in on a delirious stranger.

  MAKE YOUR CHOICE

  A Wretched Hive

  The gunshot echoes through the range with painful reverberations. In such a small space, everyone flinches involuntarily. Everyone except for Mr. Ford. Then the next few seconds fly by as fast as the bullet shattering The Fugitive’s kneecap.

  Harrison Ford’s security team moves to act, hands diving into suit jackets with practiced ferocity, Glocks pulled from shoulder holsters. Law and order still prevails in the land, and vigilante justice is not something these guys are paid to allow. You realize, not without a look of dumbfounded stupidity, that they’re drawing down on you. You drop the Galil and raise your arms in surrender, but it’s too late.

  As two more gunshots ring out, you close your eyes and wince, ready to feel the pain. But when it never comes, you open your eyes to see the two security agents before you clutching chest wounds. Dad holds the smoking Galil.

  Gunshots pound out around you in stereo as the remaining four agents unload their Glocks into your father. You scream out with Jason in unison, so your pain melds together into one mournful cry. The nearest agent trains his pistol on you, bringing it within arm’s range—big mistake. All the rough-housing with Jay, all the holds, grapples, and techniques dad taught you… all for this moment.

  You lash out, knocking the firearm askew, the resultant gunshot barely missing you. Then, in a completion of the movement, you torque his arm around by the wrist and slam your full weight upon his elbow, bending it the wrong way.

  In the wake of the confusion, Jason drops down to your father’s body, claims the Galil, then drops the other three agents. You turn toward him, his eyes growing wide at something behind you, and turn back just in time for Harrison Ford to bite down upon your neck. Jason shoots the immortal movie star, but the damage is done.

  You’re INFECTED!

  Yes, We’re Open!

  You motion for the children to stand back, putting yourself between the door and the group. Master Hanzo hands you a wooden shinai, just in case. As soon as you open the door, a man runs in, and after a perfectly executed evade and counterattack, the man sprawls out onto the floor.

  “Dad!” Christian yells, running to the man’s side.

  “Wait, stay back!” you cry, just as another man rushes in through the open doors.

  The second man wears cycling spandex, and one of his calf-muscles is torn open to the bone. The wound does not bleed. His skin is deathly pale, and his mouth hangs open.

  In instinct, you go for this second man, fending him off with the wooden sword. A cacophony of boots slapping against pavement announces the arrival of the National Guard troops, led by Captain Delozier.

  “Get the biker!” Master Hanzo yells.

  The National Guard soldiers detain the man from the rear, and it takes four men struggling to drag the crazed ghoul out of the dojo.

  “Who’s that?!” Delozier yells, pointing at the man on the floor.

  “I’m sorry, I—I just came for my son, for Christian,” he replies.

  “How did you get past the barricades?”

  “I stayed low. The cars, I used the cars as cover and came straight here.”

  “Dammit,” Captain Delozier grumbles. “We’ll have to tighten our patrols. Okay, sir, I need you to come with us. We’ll need to get you looked at by the doc, just in case.”

  “I’m coming too,” Christian says, rising from his father’s side.

  Captain Delozier nods, then motions for the pair to follow him.

  “You’ll keep the boy safe?”

  “Of course,” the captain replies, though he doesn’t meet your gaze. With that, they’re all gone.

  “Back to sleep,” you tell your students. They obviously want to talk about what just happened, about what is happening, and so do you, but what would you say? There is an old saying your father used to say when people were hasty to judge: A frog in a well does not know the great sea.

  Lying awake in the dark, you simply listen to the children breathing around you. Salvator is gone, and now Christian. For the better? Who can say? Eventually, you come to the conclusion:

  • I will ask about the other boys tomorrow. Captain Delozier should be reminded of his responsibilities, too.

  • My responsibility is to the tadpoles in the well with me. Hard as it may be, I must push the others from my mind and live in the here and now.

  MAKE YOUR CHOICE

  Your Call

  A moment later, Sam Colt slides the panel closed and turns back. You pull out your cell and dial home, but nothing happens. A closer look at the screen shows no service. Not even one bar.

  “What was with that ‘Daisy’ comment?” Lily asks.

  “He was seeing if we were under duress. If I’d said ‘Daisy’s fine,’ then he’d know that Tyberius here was holding us hostage and they’d be looking for a back wa
y in right about now.”

  “Smart,” she says.

  “You guys got signal?” you ask.

  “Network’s down, or taken into emergency control, or some such nonsense,” Sam says. “But there’s a landline at the returns desk. This way.”

  Crossing your fingers that it’ll work, you follow Sam to the store’s phone. When you dial this time, the call goes through. Three rings, then she answers.

  “Mama, thank God.”

  “That you, Tyberius? What’s the matter?”

  “Mama, I need you to stay home. Don’t answer the door for anyone.”

  “Don’t fool about, you scarin’ me, boy.”

  “This is serious, you have to stay put. Lock the door. I’ll come for you, mama. I don’t know when, but just stay inside. A day, two, I dunno, but—” you stop yourself when there’s a strange click on the line. “Mama? Mama, you there?”

  A computerized woman’s voice cuts in. “We’re sorry, all circuits are busy now. Please try your call later. This is a recording.”

  “Goddammit!” you roar before throwing the phone across the room.

  You can feel Sam and Lily staring at you, but can’t bring yourself to meet their gaze. You press your knuckles into your eyes and fight the pain in your chest.

  “Ty,” Lily says, putting a hand on your shoulder. “She’s alive, right? Help us defend this place, then make it home to her once the quarantine is lifted. Survive—for her.”

  Standing tall, you clear your throat. “What do we need to do?”

  Sam nods. “I’m working on defenses, while Lily is on supplies. We’re going to make it, Ty, together.”

  • I’ll Help Sam with defenses.

  • I’ll Help Lily with supplies.

  MAKE YOUR CHOICE

  Zombies in Mirror May be Closer than they Appear

  Dad insists that you bring the wounded man along, which will make this journey all the more treacherous. The man from your room stays comatose, and even with Jason’s help, it takes twenty minutes to lug him outside and get him strapped into the back seat. Dad is at least conscious, and can walk on his own, but he’s delirious and stops to vomit in the front hedges.

  Two men stalk the neighborhood, but turn the other way when they catch a glimpse of Jason’s 16-gauge. Looters, most likely. Best make sure the Jeep is filled to the gills with supplies and food; odds are, you’ll never see home again. There’s a sobering thought.

  The sky is red at the start of the setting sun and the city is already in far worse shape than you could’ve imagined. Sirens wail, seemingly from every direction. Black smoke billows on the horizon, signaling the harsh, chemical burn of a car fire. The unmistakable pop of gunfire echoes from neighboring streets.

  A sign up ahead shows “evacuation route” in the blinking marquee of a construction detour. Thank you, Jesus! The speed limit here is 45, and the evacuation signs say reduce to 25, though everyone’s going 65. You keep with the flow of traffic.

  As the route leads out of the city, the police cruisers that provide security on the side of the road give way to National Guard Humvees. You wave at the gunner on a turret mount, and he nods. Eyes back on the road, you slam on the brakes as someone two cars ahead smashes into a pedestrian and flips their Kia.

  The idiot came out of nowhere, and the next car doesn’t have time to react. They slam into the overturned car. The jeep skids to a stop only feet from the accident. You brace yourself, but the car behind you manages to stop before rear-ending you.

  “Everyone okay?” you ask.

  Jason nods. “Should we get out and help?”

  “Go around,” Dad croaks. He sounds terrible, but he’s right, and you know it. Getting out of the city is a time-sensitive operation.

  You bring the jeep onto the shoulder and into the grass median before coming back onto the road in front of the wreck. In your rear-view mirror, you can see others follow your lead. Everything you’ve been brought up with says you should help those people, but you know you’ve got to pick your battles.

  Flipping on the headlights, you enter a tunnel. About halfway in, traffic thickens, then comes to a standstill. Cars pile up behind you, and you’re smack dab in the middle of a full-on cluster-fuck. Dammit. Horns blare, but no one’s moving.

  • It’ll clear. Stay in the car, no matter what. Who knows how many of those things are piling up outside the tunnel?

  • On foot—now! There’s little time to get out before you’re trapped for good.

  MAKE YOUR CHOICE

  Zombieworld

  The park wasn’t far off in your memory, but your memory traveled by car. On foot, it’s several hours away. In that time, you’ve successfully outpaced your undead fans, but you can be sure they’re still following in the distance.

  It’s getting dark by the time you arrive at the amusement park, and you’re not one to explore an unfamiliar battleground solo at night. Truth be told, this is your first visit to The Funtastic Rockencoaster Adventure Park, the carnival that couldn’t settle on just one portmanteau when two would do. Your family didn’t have the money for it when you were growing up, and with no kids of your own, there was little draw as an adult, until now. Guess that’s just the way of the crumbling cookie.

  The ticket counter is open and abandoned, with a rolling security gate window. Good a place as any to bed down for the night. You hop in and pull the security gate closed with a mighty metallic squeal—sending every bird within a three-block radius squawking into the sky. Sprayed over the ticket-pricing menu is a graffiti message stating, “The world is over. Amuse yourself.”

  * * *

  Though its castle walls are forged from plaster and her moats flow only waist-deep, the walls surrounding the local amusement park are real enough. With security measures designed against an array of intruders—from a terrorist attack, to teens trying to sneak a free ride, to midnight looters—the theme park is ready for invasion.

  Heading inside, you don your gasmask and lock the carousel-style entrance behind you. It won’t stop the dead, but it might slow them. You’ll have to find something to barricade the front if you’re going to stay here long enough to signal rescue.

  Posters at the gift shop show what you missed out on during childhood. Gleeful cherubs captured in time on various rides, as well as ads for merchandise for sale inside such as the brand new Blender Ride and accompanying “I got Blended at The F.R.A.P!” t-shirt.

  Time to have a look around. Where to first?

  • The park’s most famous attraction—The Chariot of the Gods Ferris wheel. At the top, I’ll have a great view of the city and park.

  • There’s a tram that encircles the park grounds, and if I can start that up, I’ll get a full VIP tour.

  MAKE YOUR CHOICE

  Wait a Second…

  That’s not how it happened! Let’s try that again so you can get the real story, and do it right this time. Click the chapter title below to go back to your previous choice, or CLICK HERE to restart.

  17 Forever

  Access Denied

  Affronted

  Agh! Mazing*

  Agonizing

  All the Light

  Always Faithful

  Anarchy in the Streets

  An Offering

  The Art of Words

  Assault and Prepper

  At a Loss

  Away from the Herd

  B&E

  Backing Out

  Battle of the Bees

  Bearing Down

  Beaten

  Be Careful What You Wish For

  Bell of the Ball

  Besties

  The Best Policy

  Best Served Cold

  Big Bad Piggies

  Blazing Irony

  Bloodbath

  Blow Your House Down

  Boob Tube

  Bound by Compassion

  The Boys Are Back

  Broker

  Bug-out

  Building an Offense

  Bur
ned

  Burning Bright

  Busy Streets

  The Cables Guy

  Cagey

  Cannot See

  Captivity/Depravity

  Carp’s Lesson in Perseverance

  Chaotic Evil

  Chaotic Good

  Chaotic Neutral

  Civil Liberties

  Clean Room

  Cold

  Cold Cuts

  Collateral Damage

  Committed

  The Con

  Concealed Weapons

  Consumed by Guilt

  Contra

  Convenient

  Cooped Up

  Crack the Whip

  Crowd Control

  The Crying Gang

  Cut the Cord

  Cut Your Losses

  Cynicism

  Daddy’s Girl

  Damage is Done

  Dancing Partner

  The Dark Ages

  Dead of Night

  Death of Reason

  Debutante’s Ball

  Demanding

  Devoured

  Dinner is Served

  The Dirty Half-dozen

  Ditch

  Doesn’t Add Up

  Dojo

  Do the Right Thing

  Down with the Sickness

  Draconian

  Dragon Emperor

  Drooling

  Early Bird

  Eaten

  Eat Me

  Emergency Exit

  Encroaching

  Enemy of My Enemy

  Enough

  Excommunicated

  Exit Lane

  Failure to Launch

  Familicide

  Family Reunion

  Family Values

  Fast Food

  Fatigue

  Feast

  Feminine Wiles

  Field Trip

  ¡Fiesta!

  Final Solution

  Finding Mr. Right

  The Fine Print

  Fire in the Hole!

  Firepower