Earths Survivors The Zombie Killers: Origins Read online

  ~

  Beth awoke long before Billy, and now sat outside the small tent, watching the last rays of light fade from the sky. It seemed to seep slowly away, and darken the sky above the pines. The wind kicked up briefly, blowing the dead leaves across the ground. They scratched and rattled as they went, making her think of small skeletons rattling in the wind. She felt afraid, and had since she had awakened earlier. She couldn't explain it to herself. She had been tempted to awaken Billy, but had decided after twice starting to do so, to wait until he awoke on his own.

  She could tell now though, by the change in his breathing, that he would soon awaken, and she walked to the small fire she had built earlier to start some coffee brewing. She placed the small tin pot on the coals next to the fire.

  She was sitting by the fire wondering how to approach the subject of what next, when Billy rolled out of the tent. She turned around to face him, and she saw the sadness etched into his face. He's worried too, she thought, and before she could complete the thought he proved her right.

  They had been undecided for a short time after they had found the highway arcing down into the water somewhere inside what had been the border of Alabama. They would have to go back, but where? They had been heading south, not an absolute place, but south nonetheless. South was now out of the question., The water had stretched away as far as they could see to the south, east, and then arced away forming a new coastline to the west. They had starting backtracking the next day.

  Beth poured coffee in the small tin cups for both of them before she spoke. “Where are you thinking?”

  They had backtracked all the way into Kentucky. Stopping last night at what they assumed was the Ohio river, too tired to decide what was next.

  He shrugged his shoulders as he responded. “I think we can start heading for the East coast. What do you think?”

  “I guess so, I... I don't know. It certainly won't hurt, and where else would we go?” she stared into the fire as she spoke. “I think we should be a lot more careful though. I get the feeling that those people we ran into aren't the only ones around who would just as soon kill us, and I'm not kidding myself about it, I think it was pretty clear. They didn't want to talk, or even to just take us prisoner or something, they wanted to outright kill us. No sense pretending about that.” She paused.

  “I mean, I really thought there, for a second, that they were just scared or something, or maybe saw me and... Well, you know. But that wasn't it.”

  When she finished he nodded silently, and then sipped from the cup before he spoke. “You're right, I just didn't want to think about it, Hell, I couldn't think about much of anything except getting as far away as possible, and I kept thinking about the truck too. Did they do that before they tried to kill us, after, or was it someone else? There's no real way to tell, but even if they were alone I'm not kidding myself that there won't be others just like them. We do have to be careful,” he paused, thinking. “In fact I think we need to get off the main road from now on. These parks, rural areas seem better. No dead... Few dead anyway... Fewer people. I never thought I would say fewer people was a good thing, but,” he shrugged, “guess I just did. I don't think it's safe... You agree? I mean, there are lots of other roads that parallel the main highway. I guess it just seems like the smart thing to do, and it feels like the right thing to do. What do you think?” he asked.

  “I think you're right. I've been sitting out here thinking about pretty much the same thing for quite a few hours, and you're right, we have to be careful, and you're also right about the main road... It just doesn't seem safe, or the safest way to get anywhere anymore.”

  “Well,” Billy said, “if we're going to take side roads, we're going to have to get another map, and that means we're going to have to go into the next city to get one. I'm not thrilled about that, but we're also going to need to pick up more ammunition too. Either way, we have to at least follow the highway into the next town down the line. No way around it,” he almost seemed as though he were hoping that she would come up with some alternative as he spoke.

  “No other way,” she said, “so... I guess we better get moving?” She allowed what she had meant to be a statement to rise at the end and turned it into more of a question.

  “No,” Billy said immediately. “No way. It'll be dark soon, and I really don't think that would be a smart move at all. No... I think we should wait it out here tonight, and get on the road early in the morning. We should be able to make the next town without a map. I don't even know what the next place is, but it can't be too far, can it?” he didn't wait for a response; he had asked more for himself than her. “No, I'm pretty sure it won't be far. We've been running into lots of small towns every twenty, thirty miles or so, and most of them at least have gas stations. We should be able to get a map fairly easily. After we do though, that's it. We get off the main road, and stay off it.”

  As darkness closed in, they had both turned quiet. Beth had begun a small dinner over the coals in the fireplace, they had hastily thrown together earlier that morning when they had arrived, and Billy had walked over to the truck and occupied himself with checking the mechanics, making sure that nothing had been damaged the night before as he had driven.

  Several times he had driven over debris in the road, but in his haste to put miles between them, he had ignored it. He had also become convinced during the night as he drove, that they were being followed. He had kept glancing into the mirrors, sure that he would see glowing headlights closing in on them from behind. It had not happened though; the road behind them had remained empty all night as he had driven.

  He had another thought as he stood looking over the truck. What if they had done something to this truck? He wondered. He knew it was irrational, there had to have been over a hundred trucks on that lot, and... How would they have known to choose this one? And if they had, wouldn't something already have happened?

  In spite of how ridiculous it seemed, he checked the truck over anyway. There was one small gouge in the front passenger fenders paint, probably due to some debris flying up and hitting it, but other than that the truck seemed fine, and none the worse for the hurried trip. He pushed it from his mind as he walked away from the truck and back to the fire.

  Beth was stirring a stew like mixture, to keep it from burning on the hot coals.

  “I think it's ready,” she said as he approached the fire, and squatted down beside her. “Hungry?” she gave him a small spoonful to taste.

  “Oh yeah,” he responded, and rubbed his stomach with one hand to show her it was true. He sat down close to the fire, and turned his thoughts away from the truck.

  Billy tried a tired smile on his face as he took a bowl of the stew. Beth sat down next to him, and they began to eat as the last traces of light seeped from the sky.

  SIX

  April 15th

  618 Park Avenue: Seventh floor 2B

  Bear paced before the glass slider that opened onto the balcony. The apartment had been getting on his nerves more and more every day. Closing him in, making him jumpy, paranoid.

  He had spent five full days scouring the streets, but he had found nothing. He had learned a great deal though. The city did not belong to the living any longer. Yes, the living were there. Gathered together, but the living were becoming the dead. Looking at it, it was inevitable The dead would grow even as the living shrank. Someday the dead would be more... Stronger... And they would take the city completely. He had wondered if it were like that everywhere.

  He had come back to the Apartment, killed more of the dead that had taken over the lobby once more, broken the lock set, and made his way back up to the apartment. That had been days ago. He had lost track of how many. He had fed himself from Amanda Bynes' cupboards. The water supply at the taps was gone, but he had carried cases of water and sports drinks up to the apartment early on, so it was well stocked.

  He had lost track of the days and as he had, he had sunk deeper into his depression. Donita had
not come back. He had gone out searching two other times, but he had finally given it up. Where did you search for someone who was missing? She could be ten feet away or ten thousand miles away. There was no way to know. He had spent more and more time on the balcony, looking out over the dying city.

  The dead had been giving him more trouble too. He had put a new deadbolt in the stairwell door that opened onto the lobby. He kept that door locked, but they had figured out how to force the lock. Not surprising since he had forced it himself to get back into the apartment. He hadn't been able to repair all the damage that he had caused to the steel door frame.

  The really bad part about that had been that when he did return, he had found the key to the stairwell door, apparently all tenants had one, along with a key to the lobby front door, hanging on a peg above the kitchen counter.

  He had finally scoured all the other apartments, taken what he could carry, and blocked off the stairwell with a jumble of couches, chairs and other furnishings he had scavenged from those same apartments. He had thought at the time that closing off the stairwell made perfect sense. What he had not thought out was the fact that he too would not be able to use the stairwell. Yes, it would keep the dead out, but it would also keep him in; had since he had closed it off, and that was not something he could take much longer.

  At night he could hear the zombies working at the tangle of furniture in the stairwell. It was just a matter of time before they managed to fight their way through it and clear the stairwell: When that happened it would be the end of him.

  And the Zombies were getting smarter. They had been coming at dusk and assaulting the stairwell. It was as if they knew he was there and they had to have him at any cost. But they had had no real thinking process. They simply threw themselves at the pile, clawing, trying to work their way over or through it, never making much progress. But the last two nights they had stopped simply assaulting the pile of furniture and junk Bear had tossed into the stairwell. They had instead begun taking it apart. Working at it. As though they had stood back and really looked at it, decided how to clear it, and then went about it. That was not dumb-dead-zombie thinking. Not at all. That was thinking like any man could do. They were thinking and that scared him. It scared him because the last two mornings before this one had shown progress. And this morning they had nearly made it. Another couple of hours of work and they would have been in.

  He had decided the time had come to leave. It had, and, really, he should have left three weeks before. He should have left and headed south like he and Donita had planned to: Instead he had developed a suicidal side. He didn't care. How else could he explain barricading himself in the way he had? He couldn't.

  It took three hours of the morning to make his way through the pile of furnishings and junk, and he had awakened three Zombies as he moved it, they had come out of the shadows in the bottom of the stairwell and stared up at him. Smart, but not smart enough. He had killed the first one and then the second one when it had come right up behind the first one. The third one was a little smarter.

  The third one had waited in the deep shadows, silent as he finished moving the tangle of furniture and started down into the shadows. He stopped just a few steps down. He had taken a flashlight from Amanda Bynes' kitchen. He flicked it on now, gun out before him, before he took another step.

  The third one was crouched six feet below waiting for him, and even though he had been ready he nearly blew it.

  He was a young boy, or had been. He was coiled like a snake, and he came out of the coil and launched himself into the light.

  Bear fired three times. His finger squeezing convulsively on the trigger. The boy landed in a heap before him, a wet splash on the steps. His mouth continued to work, biting at the steel step where his teeth now lay shattered, growling deep in his throat. Bear leaned forward and shot the boy in the head once more, and he stopped moving. Bear made his way around him and down the stairs into the first floor stairwell.

  There were two more waiting in the lobby, but these were not the smart ones. These were slow and shuffling. He killed the first one as he stepped out into the lobby. The second one stood looking down at her companion. He walked up, placed the gun against her head and pulled the trigger. She collapsed next to her friend where she apparently had wanted to be.

  Bear made the street through the same shattered door frame he had come through with Donita just a few short weeks before. The Zombies had shattered the windows on the delivery truck and torn the inside apart. He had hoped the truck would be intact and it was not. He looked around at the early morning quiet of the devastated city: Up and down the deserted street, scuffed the sidewalk with his gore spattered boots, and then walked off to the south.

  Watertown New York

  Pearl

  Pearl stood shadowed by the edge of a pile of rubble. She had watched the three for several minutes now as they packed up their vehicle, obviously getting ready to leave the city. She needed to go herself, but were they the right ones to travel with? Two men and one woman, but the woman didn't appear to be anything more than an equal. It was probably the best chance she was likely to have. She stepped out into the sunlight and the conversation suddenly stopped as everyone froze.

  “Just load it up and tarp it. We should be...” The man stopped in mid-sentence as Pearl stepped out into view. He swiveled quickly to face her, placing his body between her and the other woman.

  Pearl raised her hands quickly, out and away from her body. “I've got nothing,” she said. She remembered the small pistol she had tucked away almost as soon as she had spoken the words.

  The woman stepped around the first man, and the other man had shifted to face her more fully, probably while she had been paying attention to the first man. A well oiled team, she thought. They had spent time together, it was obvious.

  The woman motioned to the first man, “Go ahead, Scott.” The man stepped forward, pushed his own weapon around to hang from his back on the leather strap that held it. His hands settled roughly on her shoulders and he began to pat her down.

  “There's a bulge there,” Haley said quietly. She motioned at Pearl's jeans where the crotch bulged slightly.

  Scott's hand stopped suddenly, just below where the shirt overhung Pearl's waist. He felt her tremble. “It's small... I've been scared. Just something for safety,” Pearl told them.

  “But you said you had nothing,” Scott said as his eyes held her own.

  “What is it?” Haley asked.

  “Says she's got a piece in her... I guess, her panties,” Scott lowered one hand and carefully felt the small gun. Haley was at his side when he looked up. “Really small,” he said and shrugged. Haley passed him her pistol. “Keep it on her.”

  Haley reached forward and freed the buttons that held the fly of Pearl's pants. She reached in and came out with a small .22 pocket pistol. She looked it over.

  “Five shot... .22 Mags,” Pearl said.

  Haley looked up. “I can see that. So why didn't you say something?”

  “Your mate was on his way down. You spotted it.” She shrugged. “Look. I'm alone. I had to have something. This town may look dead, but it's far from dead. I'm just looking for a way out. The road. Leave this place. It's been... It's been bad.” her eyes seemed to cloud at the end. “Mind? It's a bit cold.” she looked down at her open fly.

  “Go ahead,” Haley said.

  Pearl buttoned the fly back and then took a deep breath. “So?”

  “So, What's your name,” Haley asked.

  “Pearl... You?”

  “Haley... Joel, Scott,” she nodded to each with her head. “I guess she's okay,” she told Scott. Scott lowered the gun and then handed it back to Haley a second later.

  “We're headed for the city,” Joel told her.

  “Syracuse?” Pearl asked.

  “No... When people say city around here they usually mean New York... Manhattan,” Joel said quietly. “Why should we make room for you, Pearl. Especially s
ince you didn't want to tell us about this gun?” He had taken the pistol from Haley and was turning it over in his hand. It was very small and didn't seem capable of doing much harm.

  “It will kill you well enough,” Pearl said as if reading his thoughts. “It's a bad world. You need another shooter. Who knows what you're going to run into between here and there.” She paused and then nodded at the pistol. “You can see I'm resourceful.” She met Joel's eyes when they swung suddenly up to her own. “I'm not dangerous unless someone is tying to hurt me,” she finished quietly.

  Joel raised his eyes to Haley and Scott. They both nodded. He looked back at her. “Guess you are in, Pearl,” he told her. He tossed the gun and she caught it in one hand.

  “I like it, but here,” Haley said retrieving a rifle from the back of the truck. She tossed it to her lightly.

  “Zero to sixty?” Pearl asked as she looked over the rifle.

  Haley pulled a clip from a pouch at her side. She frowned. “Guess so,” she said as she tossed the clip to Pearl. “I guess so.” Pearl socketed the clip home as she nodded.

  “Okay,” Joel said. “Looks like we need another truck.”

  Haley nodded and they all piled into the truck. Joel turned it around and started back out to the strip.

  Bluechip

  Richard Pierce.

  Richard pierce watched the two trucks pick their way around the wrecked pavement. Lately he had found himself wondering what the outside world smelled like? Was it sterile the way the air here smelled? Slightly burned? Something like that. It had a constant smell of hot steel. He really didn't notice it unless he concentrated on it.

  He had watched the three become four. So Pearl had made her way out. He could only hope she would remember what he had done for her. How he had cut her loose. Anyone else in this place would come unglued to find out he had not only let someone go, but that the natural containment of the project, encased over a mile deep in stone was now breached. He had let her out through the air ducting. It had taken two days of looking over the schematics to be sure that there was a way out and where it was, but he had found it and sent her on her way. She had found her way out, and that could only mean that project Bluechip was not a secure facility any longer. Air was being exchanged with the outside. Air sucked in from that same ducting, directly through the opening she had cut into the duct work, and then drawn into their clean air supply. So, he thought now, why does it still smell like hot metal? He had no answer, except, maybe it took time. Maybe the small amount of air was not so noticeable. No matter, he knew it had been breached, he knew the truth.

  Of course they would know. He had very little time, maybe only minutes before she was discovered missing. He felt cowardly about the way he had worked it out. He had sent her first, she had made it and so he knew it was safe for him to go. He had no intention of going along with the ones she had found though, He had his own plans, His own ideas, He had waited a long time to get out of here and he had, had a long time to think about what he wanted to do once he was out: Where he wanted to go. He punched up a camera view in one of the tunnels. The hole was obvious immediately. Ragged sheet steel curled away from the side of the pipe. So she had done it. She hadn't found some other way, she had done exactly what she was supposed to do. The duct was breached. All he had to do was go.

  He leaned forward and punched a series of numbers and letters into his keypad. Hiding it with the forward movement of his body. A second later the system switched over to a camera loop that it had released no more than an hour before, and once more the tunnel looked untouched: The duct piping solid and whole once more. He stood from his console and stretched.

  “Christ,” he complained loudly, as he fisted his hands and worked at his eyes. “This shit is about to put me to sleep, Graham.”

  Graham looked up and smiled. “Not you. Usually you're a bear for this shit.”

  “Yeah, yeah, but not today. Not enough sleep. I'm going to the cafeteria... Get some of that shit that passes for coffee,” Pierce told him.

  “Yeah, but what if Weston comes around?” Graham asked. He seemed alarmed, Pierce thought, and well he should be. There was no leaving the monitor station during a shift.

  “Cover for me... Tell him I had to use the can,” Pierce told him quietly. When he looked doubtful Pierce added, “Come on, man, I'd do it for you, Graham. You know I would.”

  “Yeah. I know.” He looked around the room quickly. “Okay... Just not too long, okay?”

  “Not too long,” Pierce agreed. He clapped Graham on the back as he walked past him. “Not too long at all, buddy.”

  Bear

  April 15th

  The Taxi was in the middle of the road. Bear toted a heavy shotgun and wore two 45 Automatics he had liberated from a pawn shop. He had used them more than once. A heavy pack on his back held extra rounds for the shotgun and the pistols as well as food stuffs and other essentials he had picked up during his outings.

  He had settled himself into an old factory down along the river, and life was becoming more predictable. He looked over at the taxi. A vehicle would be useful. The entire city wasn't a wasteland of abandoned vehicles. Most of it, but not all of it. There were places a vehicle could get him in an hour or two that would take a day or longer to reach on foot.

  He had wandered through most of Manhattan before finding the factory. Most of the city was dead, dying, burned, or in need of burning.

  The taxi sat in the middle of the street. All four tires were up, Bear noticed as he walked closer to it. The balance of the street was littered with garbage, other debris from the surrounding buildings, and little else. There were four other vehicles, all of which were parked sedately at the curb. He pulled one of the pistols as he approached the side of the taxi.

  The windows were up, the partition between the seats blocking his view until he was nearly even with the drivers window.

  The driver sat behind the wheel, a browned and shriveled mummy behind glass. Bear staggered back against his will, shocked for a moment. The driver grinned back at him with his permanent, yawning smile. He was leaning against the door. Bear stepped forward, levered the door handle, and the driver spilled out with a dry rattle, shattering on the asphalt. Bear jumped back again, glancing up nervously at the surrounding buildings. A few pigeons, disturbed by the noise, took flight: Nothing else. A few seconds later the silence came back and the street was once again as it had been.

  Bear shoved what was left of the driver aside with one foot, and leaned closer to the inside of the car. He pulled his head back out quickly and backed away, his face pale. He had thought that since the body had seemed dried out, shriveled, that maybe there would be no smell. He had been wrong. He pushed the smell out of his head so he could hang onto the meal of stale peanut butter crackers he had, had for lunch. He walked off down the street. Sucking the cool air into his lungs as he went. He almost missed the three people watching him from the doorway.

  A young dark haired man had been at the front. He held what turned out to be a fully automatic machine pistol in one hand. Loosely: Pointing at the ground. Bear had bought up his own hands and they seemed to be indecisive. Hovering over the pistols on either side. He forced them to drop.

  The young man nodded. “No harm, no foul,” he said aloud.

  Bear's eyes lifted to the two women behind him. He nodded and they nodded back.

  “We're going a little further out,” the young man said. “Couple of car dealers out there,” he motioned vaguely toward the East. “Get some wheels... Try to get the fuck out of here.”

  Bear nodded.

  “Why don't you throw in with us then,” one of the women asked. She stepped forward and then down off the walk, and walked over to Bear. “Damn... You're a big guy,” Madison said as she offered one hand. The other held her own machine pistol down to her side.

  Bear chuckled. “Bear,” he said. “Got a place nearby... Staying for a while yet, maybe...”

  She nodded. “John... Cammy
,” she said pointing. They both nodded and then stepped down off the pavement and walked over.

  “Put us up for a while, maybe?” Madison asked Bear.

  “Glad to,” Bear agreed.

  A few minutes later they had been walking through what was left of Union City heading towards the outskirts; talking as they went.