Mel took a deep breath to steady himself. Then he took aim and fired.
CHAPTER 7 - DONALD BISHOP
DONALD DIDN’T KNOW what pissed him off more. Sean carjacking them or his own foolishness that allowed it to happen. Something felt wrong about Sean and Joan the moment he met them, but he didn’t act on the feeling. The lost guns wouldn’t have mattered if they were back at the Airstream, because Donald’s had better hardware stashed in the trailer. Here Donald only had the crappy 38 caliber pistol from the gun shop, with no extra ammo, and his trusty Desert Eagle Pistol in his truck. The Desert Eagle had 3 extra clips, giving him 28 rounds, but if they came across many more zombies, there wouldn’t be nowhere near enough ammunition. Lost in thought, Donald bit his upper lip.
“What’s with the grimace? Forget those two. Things have been quiet, but they won’t stay quiet forever. We need to get moving.” Gwen said.
Her words broke his paralysis and stirred him into action. Without looking her in the eyes, he started the truck, and drove toward the exit of the commuter parking lot. The campground wasn’t far from here so they should reach it within 15 minutes. Estimated travel times were only valid if they didn’t run into any more trouble. What else could go wrong?
The highway north through Worcester was quiet, like their trip out of Boston on the Mass Pike had been. Abandoned vehicles sat scattered along the route impeding their progress, but none traveled down the road. They discovered no other living humans while they drove. The roads were empty of any other traffic on this beautiful summer day. It felt like someone threw a switch and shut everyone else in the world off. It might be mistaken for peaceful if zombies didn’t roam the Earth. The total absence of any other human life scared him. Could they be the only survivors of the zombie apocalypse?
Gwen tried the truck’s radio while they drove. She tuned to the frequencies where the local Boston area radio stations should have been, but she found nothing but static. Both the AM and FM bands provided the same results. No local stations transmitted their normal programs. She switched to satellite radio and found the normal music channels playing their songs.
“Do you think the music on satellite radio proves other areas of the country are fine? Are the zombies limited to only Massachusetts?” Gwen asked after she shut the radio off.
Donald wasn’t sure what the correct answer was or even what the group needed to hear in this situation. “I don’t know. It’s likely they prerecorded all those music shows, and nothing has interfered with the satellite transmitters, yet.”
“It’s the zombie apocalypse, and it’s happening everywhere. The world has been building toward this tipping point, and it has happened. It’s fallen and there’s no going back,” Betty said.
“Betty dear, zombies are fiction, they don’t exist in the real world. They’re found only in stories.” Deborah said.
“Last night my mom and I watched the dead walk and then kill the living. The fresh kills rose back to their feet and went on their way, looking to procreate via their bites and scratches. Cops came and opened fire, and the zombies didn’t stop their assault on the living. The zombies even killed your friend and my mom. If they aren’t zombies, then what are they? Open your eyes!”
Quiet filled the truck for the rest of the ride because of Betty’s words. Donald didn’t know how to respond to the teenager, even if he couldn’t believe in zombies himself yet. He had seen plenty of people die during his life, but not one of them ever got up again after they died. The dead stayed dead. Then again, not too many people kept running forward while being shot multiple times as if nothing happened to them. Was it time to stop calling them rioters or monsters and start calling them zombies? Maybe Betty was right after all?
###
Dark buildings lined the highway. Half the state must be out because of this massive power failure. Groups of monsters (correction zombies) wandered throughout the area while Donald drove. None of the groups of zombies were large or organized. Donald took it as a good sign they would get to his trailer without issue and then get to the cabin in Maine safely. Before they reached the campground, they needed a plan to keep their stop short. He needed to break camp with the trailer and then get it hooked to the truck. The five of them should be able to make quick work of it since he can bug out fast by himself. He ran the required tasks through his mind and drew up a viable plan. Then he filled everyone in on what their role would be.
###
As they approached the entrance gate, Donald knew they had found trouble. Someone crashed through the barricade that blocked the road. The gate hadn’t provided high-security since it had been a single wooden board, but it would damage any vehicle who tried to ram through it. Those not registered at the campground could push the intercom button to speak to the office and gain access to the park. Donald drove with caution in through the wrecked entry gate, expecting trouble. Then he noticed the first body. Not a zombie body this time, but what had been a living human survivor. A shotgun blast mutilated their skull. Very messy, and that said something with all he had already witnessed today.
The camp’s office and general store shared the same building at the entrance to the campground. Two more bodies laid in front of the building. One corpse belonged to the retired Boston cop who provided the camp’s security. He must have grown complacent and let his guard down since he had been armed. Donald spoke with him the day he checked in and found him to be a pleasant guy, but now he joined the dead. He didn’t recognize the other body next to the former cop, but he thought it had been someone from the office.
Donald pulled to a stop and checked the Desert Eagle to assure it would be ready. He offered the 38 to Gwen, but she said no in preference to her bow and arrow. Betty offered to take the pistol saying her dad took her shooting, but Donald didn’t think arming a teenager, he didn’t even know, made sense.
While Donald checked his weapon and tried to develop a plan, shots rang out from deeper inside the park. Both a shotgun and a pistol boomed, and he had an idea who pulled the triggers. It meant he should have listened to his gut and let the zombies have those two at the gun shop. He pulled the truck around the back of the office and hid it from view of the access road.
“Gwen, you stay here with the others and watch the truck. I need to track down the gunfire. Before you object, someone needs to watch over both our ride and safety of our group. Plus, I need to correct my mistake.”
He didn’t give her a chance to object before he grabbed the extra magazines for the Desert Eagle and ran across the road and disappeared out of sight into the trees.
###
A state forest surrounded the campground, so it had an isolated rural atmosphere even though the city was close by. He parked the Airstream in the far back corner of the grounds. An access road weaved through the park with spur roads leading off on both sides. Each spur road contained four to eight campsites around it. A 50 caliber bullet would put a big hole in something or someone, but Donald yearned for the more effective weapons he had locked inside the Airstream. What he wouldn’t give to have his body armor and an AR-15 right now.
Donald slipped through the woods, while periodic gunfire exploded ahead of him. Nobody returned fire, only the one sided attack. No other noise at all, except for the occasional scream of a new victim. Donald discovered their gruesome work along the way. They gunned down innocent people who tried to survive without giving them a chance. He closed in on the assailants.
A third weapon joined the volley of gunfire. Four quick shots from the new rifle and the invader’s weapons quieted. Another survivor awoke and fought back against their onslaught. Donald melted further into the trees to avoid getting stuck in the middle of the crossfire. No need to become another target for the shooting gallery. He continued his trek until the realization of his fear came true. It’s what he expected to discover after he found the smashed gate. A red Honda Pilot parked in the middle of the road. Sean stood behind the open driver’s side door, as he took aim with the huntin
g rifle at a heavy-duty Ford pickup parked on Donald’s spur road. Joan took off for the woods across from him while Sean laid down cover fire. Whoever shot back at them must have taken cover behind the truck. Could it be the old soldier Mel fighting back?
Donald understood the plan they hatched and attempted to execute. Sean would provide cover fire while Joan flanked the pinned down vigilante who had fired at them. If Donald had one of his rifles (they were still in the Airstream), he would have been able to take out both targets from his current position. Armed with only a pistol, Donald would have to get closer before he could engage either target. Joan’s position exceeded the effective range of his gun since she away from him. Donald hoped whoever hid behind the truck possessed enough intelligence to move before Joan flanked him.
Under the cover of the woods, Donald moved toward the back of the Pilot. Sean continued to lie down cover fire for his sister’s advance. His continued gunfire masked any noise from Donald’s advance on Sean’s secure position. Donald approached from the passenger side of the vehicle, so he had to make his shots count. He didn’t want to face a madman with a rifle armed only with only a pistol.
After taking a calming breath, Donald took aim, and then pulled the trigger. The Desert Eagle barked and snarled eight times. In between his shots, the pinned down vigilante fired again. Donald hoped whoever had hidden behind the truck escaped Joan’s flanking attack. To not give away his advantage, Donald dropped after he emptied the pistol and slithered back into cover on his belly. He slid magazine number two into the Desert Eagle and prepared to fire again.
Before moving from cover, Donald listened for any threats. The gunfire had ceased, and he sensed no movement close by. Peering under the vehicle, he didn’t see a body there, but a blood trail led away. He crept forward and tried to find Sean or his dead body. No assailants on the side of the Honda closest to him. Movement registered in the woods from the same direction Joan traveled. Using the Pilot for cover, Donald aimed into the woods and waited to see who walked out.
Armed with an older Remington shotgun, Mel Jackson emerged from the woods. Donald guessed correctly because it was the old man who parked his RV next to the Airstream. It didn’t surprise him since Mel fought in Vietnam. He exuded a certain toughness, even though he had to be well over 70 years old.
Donald waited and then called out. “Mel, it’s Donald, don’t shoot.” Mel turned toward the voice as Donald stood up. A smile broke out on his face.
“Man, I’m glad to see you. There is another one around here somewhere.”
“I shot him through the open door of the SUV. There’s a blood trail leading away so he couldn’t have gotten far,” Donald said.
They both searched the area for Sean or his corpse. After a few steps into the woods, the blood trail vanished. Sean disappeared into thin air, but he had a serious wound and he bled at a good rate. He would bleed out in the woods before doing anyone else any harm.
Mel showed Donald the body of Joan. He caught her full in the face and in the chest with the 12-gauge Remington, so only a bloody pulp remained. Mel recognized their plan to flank him, and he headed Joan off before she got into position.
With the threat neutralized, they parted ways. Mel needed to get back to his wife, who had gotten sick with the flu. Along the way, he would continue to try 911 to get some help from the police. Donald needed to get back to his group and his truck so they could all get on the road. They needed to reach the safety of his cabin in Maine. At least he hoped it was safe. Had Donald’s Father predicted the apocalypse before his own death?
CHAPTER 8 - SEAN GRAHAM
SEAN GRAHAM DIDN’T know what kind of gun shot him, but it felt as if a red hot chisel cut through his midsection. Each breath he took radiated spikes of pain throughout his entire body. He struggled to push his bloody and battered body through the tangle of trees and brush, trying to stay ahead of certain death. Each prodding step drained more from him, and Sean didn’t know how much longer he could continue. He lost the rifle, his primary line of defense, and he couldn’t remember when he dropped it. His brain became foggy and sat on the verge of shutting down for the last time. Keep moving, or death will catch up and overtake you. Yet Sean knew death closed in, and he didn’t fear it anymore. As he trudged deeper into the woods, he awaited his reunion with Joan. She wasn’t only his sister, but also the one and only true love of his life. Soul mates from birth.
###
Ten years earlier, Sean’s father married Joan’s mother, and the two became brother and sister. Well, stepbrother and stepsister to be exact. Sean loved Joan from the first day he laid eyes on her, and not in a brotherly way either. He lusted after her. The four of them grew into one big “happy” family. Like many adults, their parents got tied up in their own lives and ignored their kids. Sean and Joan did unspeakable things together that brothers and sisters shouldn’t do. Their parent’s never knew about their escapades. Sean and Joan claimed their evil acts as a genuine love.
They got away with these lewd acts in the privacy of their own home, so they took their show on the road and looked for new play mates. Lost pet signs started showing up all around their neighborhood, but Sean and Joan both knew the final resting spot for each lost pet. Neither bothered to collect any of the rewards, since the people posting them didn’t want a mutilated corpse returned to them. Animal torture and killing entertained them for a season, but like all fun things, it became predictable and grew boring.
Sean found a gun one day, so they graduated from helpless animals to solving the homeless drifter problem, one corpse at a time. One victim stayed alive for over two weeks while they tortured him daily in many horrible but imaginative ways. Each time they would return home to each other's arms and perform more unmentionable acts on each other’s bodies. The violent and reckless acts fed and grew their lust for each other.
One day they woke up and found the civilized world had ended. An event of their dreams where people killed and ate each other. Victims on every corner. Sean and Joan’s first act that beautiful day was to put bullets in each of their parent’s heads. Once mom and dad fell asleep, Sean and Joan slipped into their room and shot them both. What a splendid start to a lovely day of total freedom.
After eating a filling breakfast, Sean and Joan headed out to spread their acts of love to anyone they found. Things started out well with them recording some kills of their favorite neighbors. When they say their favorite, they meant their favorite ones to hate. Killing them before the apocalypse started would have been too risky, but now chaos ruled. They worked their way into town and a horde of the dead almost overwhelmed them. Those zombies proved to be more onerous than they expected, but then a group of losers came along and saved them. This pointed them to their destiny and allowed them the ability to take even more lives wherever they pleased.
During the ride, Sean dreamt about getting his hands on one of their guns and offing them all. Sean had lost his gun during the scuffle with the zombies. Their self-righteous leader had some worthless plan to get back to his camper, and there they would somehow be all right. Sean didn’t like this man at all, and he longed for the opportunity to kill him and all his friends. The group made a stop at a commuter lot in Worcester, and the guy planned to switch vehicles, letting Sean and Joan drive the SUV. All the others would get into the leader’s truck and they would follow them. Good riddance suckers.
Sean had his own plan. Once he got the chance, he would take the SUV and go with Joan to fulfill their destiny. The guns and ammo would be all theirs. Then this pathetic little group of survivors would be unarmed and defenseless. Only one campground sat north of the city so they would race there before the group. Sean and Joan would capture their own big fancy camper and take their show of terror on the road. What a glorious day of death it would be.
Sean’s plan started out so well. They stopped in the parking lot, and all of them got out of the SUV. Before the group grabbed their gear from the back of the vehicle, Sean and Joan jumped in
the front seats and sped off. Those idiots lost everything, and Sean and Joan would reach the campground well before them. They would have their pick of RVs to steal, and they’d inflict pain on anyone who got in the way.
Sean figured the campground had no armed guards, so this coup would be a cakewalk. Drive through the park and blast away at anyone who walked around. A special treat to remember for the rest of their lives. Then take the best RV and leave before the others showed up. Even if the group of do-gooders showed up before they finished their reign of terror, it wouldn’t matter since they were now unarmed. No yuppie city slicker with a $100,000 plus rig would carry a weapon, especially in Massachusetts. What could go wrong?
When Sean and Joan reached the entrance to the campground, they discovered only a rickety old wood gate blocked them from entering. An old guy stood behind the gate and waved for them to stop. Instead, Joan blew his head off with the shotgun while Sean crashed the SUV through the gate. Two more guys ran out of the campground’s office to investigate the racket. One wore a rent a cop uniform with a holstered pistol, and they both died at Joan’s hand. The poor rent a cop never even had the chance to draw his weapon.
Sean continued their slow drive through the campground, as they looked for the perfect RV to steal. It’s a marvelous day for a ride through the woods while shooting everything that moved. Windows opened and both of their weapons pointed out as they searched for their next victims. Anyone who dared to move would die. They made excellent progress, killing everyone who crossed their path. As they neared the end of the campground’s road, the windshield of the SUV exploded into hundreds of tiny pieces right before their eyes. Sean’s brain didn’t register what happened at first until the Pilot continued to take more damage. Someone had the nerve to fire at them with a shotgun? They killed today, and their destiny wouldn’t end here.
Operation Z | Book 1 | Uprising Page 6
