ZPOC: The Beginning Page 13

  “We are fighting a war. The cities are just the enemy strongholds, and they need to be brought under control if we want to stand any chance of winning this fight,” Hector replied, turning to look at them. “But this means there are others. Not just other survivors, but people in power. Civilization has ended.”

  The excitement that peppered his voice was clear, and also chilling.

  “If they are willing to mass murder an entire city, then what makes you think we would want them in charge, even if what you are saying is true?” Vanessa was in the mood for a fight and would not let Hector talk his way out of it.

  “That is the way the world has always worked. Collateral Damage is what they call it. We are just lucky to have survived so far into life without ever having to be brought to face the true realities. This is the world, and this shows us there are still people out there making decisions, leading things, leading us.” Hector pressed on.

  “I didn’t care for the crazies who chose war over peace before the dead rose, and my view has not changed since. Sacrificing innocent lives is never the answer.” Vanessa stood firm.

  “Well, what about killing the zeds?” Hector asked, his words were a lure, drawing the conversation down a road only he knew.

  They had all learned early on that it was hard to argue with a lawyer. When Hector was in one of his moods, then he would always twist things so that people agreed with him in the end.

  “That is a different story. Disassociation is not the same as sacrificing for the perceived greater good,” Vanessa snapped, pleased with her response.

  “Good,” Taron jumped into the conversation. “Maybe we can agree on something there because those fires won’t kill them all, zeds or survivors, and they will be leaving the city by the herd.”

  “I hadn’t thought about that,” Henry spoke up.

  “About what?” Vanessa asked, looking at her husband.

  “Think about what happened yesterday. That was just from a fire in the power station outside of the city. Now the entire city is burning to the ground. Those things are going to be coming out by the thousands.” The words hung heavy in the air, and for the next few moments, nobody spoke.

  “We need to leave,” Taron said.

  “Nonsense,” Hector replied quickly. “We stay underground. They are mindless, they will walk right over us.”

  “Can you guarantee that?” Taron asked.

  “Have you ever seen one stop and try a door? What are the chances they break into the shelter, look under the beds and find our basement entrance, open it up and come down to fucking eat us?” Hector snapped, his temper fraying.

  “I don’t say this often, but Hector is right,” Vanessa answered, her words silencing the men.

  “You really think we should stay here?” Taron said, staring at Vanessa.

  “Yes, Hector is right. Those things will walk us down if we try to run now. There will be too many of them, and God knows how many other cities got the same treatment.” Vanessa looked at Taron as she spoke, one hand wrapped tightly around James’ shoulders, holding him against her.

  Henry moved forward and slid his hand around his wife.

  “We have enough supplies to last us a long time. We have ammunition to fight our way out if needed. It makes the most sense,” Henry said. “How long do you think we have until the first ones arrive?”

  “No idea. I mean yesterday they came from closer, and now, there is more obstruction, I’d say by nightfall, certainly by sun up,” Hector said, staring at the burning city.

  “We can’t make it that far on foot, man.” Henry returned his gaze to Taron, who stood silent, lowering his head as acceptance embraced him.

  “Then let’s get busy. We need to secure whatever we can inside, no point in leaving things out in the open. I want us armed around the clock too. The posties may not figure out where we are, but survivors … you bet your ass they will know where to look.”

  The group took one last look at the ruined city, before heading back inside, sealing their hidden entrance as best they could. Moving through the tunnels and back into the hidden bunker, none spoke.

  Even James offered no resistance when he was told to stick close to his mother. There was no time to let him sit around in the shelter, however. There was much work to be done, and every hand was needed in order to salvage as much as possible before the inevitable swarm arrived.

  James and Vanessa got to moving as much as they could from inside the shelter down into the second level. With conditions already cramped down there, they knew anything they opted to take down would impact their space. Everything counted, and that included the inches they left over.

  Henry headed outside, hurrying to secure their garden area as best he could. Hauling as many branches and loose pieces of debris from the surrounding area, he did the best he could at blocking off the small allotment. It was not much, and they had the space for more, but the time invested in the concept of fresh produce meant it was worth trying to save.

  Hector moved into the trees, looking to find any possible sources of meat. Even a handful of rabbits would give them some fresh meat and give them more time before they had to break into the canned supplies.

  Taron started by clearing out the lookout hut. They had several boxes of ammunition stored there, along with several rifles, all of which would be useful to them, at some point, and they could ill afford for them to be left so open, for anybody with half a brain to spot and collect.

  They moved with a fluidity drilled into them through years of preparation. Through hours of crazy plans and talks that made them the laughing point for many who knew them and of their crazy hobby.

  Each of them carried a radio and would check in every fifteen minutes, to make sure nothing had happened. At the first sign of trouble, they would run to the second level shelter and wait it out.

  “Mommy, are we going to die?” James asked his mother as they sorted through the fresh produce, ready to take it downstairs.

  “No, no honey, we’re not going to die,” Vanessa answered, her words far more convincing than she expected them to be.

  “I’m scared,” James spoke again. Fear had stripped him of his young bravado and left him a scared little boy. A young child, he should not have known the world as they lived in it. He should have been outside playing ball with his dad, not learning to shoot a crossbow at a reanimated corpse. Vanessa stared straight ahead for a moment, letting the tears fall as they needed. She held more than enough sorrow inside her still to keep the tear jar full, but sometimes, a few needed to escape, if not just to make room for the fresh batch to be produced.

  Turning around, Vanessa looked at her son, crouching down to his level before she spoke.

  “We are all scared, each and every one of us. You shouldn’t have to live in a world like this, but we are here, and you know something? It’s all right to be scared by it. It is okay to be afraid and know what scares you. The trick … the trick is not to give up. Do you understand?” She placed a hand on James’ shoulders and looked into his eyes. They were a deep green color, just like his father’s, and it broke Vanessa’s heart to see the pain welling behind them.

  “I understand, Mommy. It’s just … I miss my friends, and I miss Granny and Grandpa, too. Do they have an underground house where they live, too?”

  Vanessa wiped away a fresh trail of sorrow from her eyes and paused to take a deep, shuddering breath. She could feel her heart breaking in her chest as she looked straight into the green eyes of a child who, despite everything going on, retained the youthful innocence the world seemed so determined to strip away from him.

  “I don’t know, honey. I’m sorry.” Vanessa pulled James against her, holding him tight.

  “I miss Freddie,” James said, pulling away from his mother. “Is Freddie in Heaven, Mommy, or did he turn into one of the monsters?”

  Vanessa broke in that moment, and there was no stopping the tears that flowed from her eyes. “I know he is in Heaven. He is playing fet
ch with Uncle Jonah right now.” The words were a struggle to speak, and yet they seemed to give comfort to her son, so he could move from being the young child he was to someone far more mature in the blink of an eye.

  “I hope so. I wouldn’t want Freddie to be running around biting people.” James lowered his head and stared at the ground, giving Vanessa the chance she needed to wipe her eyes and force the mask of composure back into place.

  “Come on, we had better get back to work. We have lots to do,” she said, placing a hand on James’ shoulder.

  “Ok, Mommy.” James nodded, looking up again, his eyes were bright and he smiled, taking the linens his mother handed him, without complaint.

  ***

  Beyond the compound, everything felt too still. After the rumble of the jets gave everybody a moment of buoyancy, a concept that everything was going to be all right, they found themselves adrift. Only now, the sea was more turbulent than ever, and the life raft they were crammed into was leaking air faster than any of them could blow it in.

  Hector stood in the trees, his back to camp, and sank to the floor. Even though he was only a few hundred meters away, it felt as if he were at the end of the world, and the rest of the population were all running the other way.

  Sitting on the floor, he watched as a spider nimbly made its way down the side of the tree opposite him and disappeared into the sparse foliage. Hector had always feared spiders. He laughed at the concept now, however. He laughed at all his fears. In light of the utter terror that was the real world, shallow rooted fears and phobias seemed crazy to him.

  In the distance, something snapped, a twig or a branch. Snatching up his rifle, and with the sheath of his knife unclipped, Hector shot to his feet and moved off toward the source. His footsteps were soft as he made his way deeper into the woods.

  He knew better than to stray too far from camp, but the idea of fresh meat was a compelling one, and he knew time was of the essence. The city would be emptying more and more with each step he took, which meant the droves could be heading their way in numbers too great to count.

  Another snap to his right brought Hector to a sudden stop. Had the target changed direction, or was it not prey he was chasing, but rather running into the hungry arms of the next generation of predators.

  Lowering his rifle, and swapping it for his knife, Hector ducked behind a tree and composed himself. He couldn’t see the camp anymore but knew exactly where he was.

  Peering from behind the tree, he saw the shambling dead figure walking toward him. The man was wearing a torn tank top and a pair of running shorts. His wiry frame and frizzy hair made him look quite the picture. His body was covered in lacerations, and from the bulge around his shoulder, something had been broken or popped out of place.

  The zed had not seen Hector yet, for it continued to amble its way in a straight line, heading right for the camp.

  Hector tightened his grip on the knife and tried to calm his thundering heart. Sweat ran from his brow and burned in his eyes. When with the group, he was able to mount the cold-hearted façade, because out of all of them, that is who he was, but alone it was a different story. There was no backup, no band of brothers looking out for each other.

  Steadying himself, he listened and counted. The slow gait would mean slower steps and more of them. The growls grew louder in his ears. Twigs snapped as the gangly zed’s shadow appeared on the ground.

  Two more steps, then we do this.

  The stench of its rotting flesh traveled ahead of it, like a warning shot fired into the masses. The taste of it was still enough to make Hector’s stomach churn.

  One …

  Hector raised his knife, ready to kill. Not that it would make a bit of difference, killing one of them, but the minute they stopped to think about the futility of fighting back, was the minute they signed their own death warrants.

  Come on you bastard … two.

  Hector spun around the tree, his arm rising as he did, so that as he moved square on to the dead man, his knife was already descending. Coming down from a high angle, the blade slid into the side of the dead man’s head, entering just above the ear, and sliding through until the hilt, even with minimal thrusting pressure applied.

  The tip of the blade broke the skin on the lower right-hand side, and with wide eyes, the thing slid to the floor. Hector was sure they did not even know that death was coming for them. They had a hunger that ate at them like a sickness. It consumed them until there was nothing left.

  It was not just the zeds that did not see things coming. Hector too was caught off guard when the second set of hands fell on him. Rolling on instinct, he ended on his back, pinned beneath a female zed, whose snapping and snarling teeth were but centimeters away from Hector’s neck.

  The dead weight of the woman, who in life could not have weighed more than a hundred and fifty pounds, crushed him, taking both his arms just to keep her from sinking on top of him.

  Hector gritted his teeth and heaved, aware that his hands were gripping the woman by the breasts. Her saggy tits were not only the most logical thing to grab given their size but also meant his fingers could sink into the dead flesh and grant him some extra purchase.

  Hector struggled and tried to bring his legs up and beneath the woman, looking for some extra leverage to buy him some time. A thick strand of putrescence fell from her mouth like drool. It was cold and slimy as it ran down the side of Hector’s neck.

  With a sudden jerk of his body, Hector managed to bring his knee upwards and into the woman’s flank. He drove his leg up once, twice, and then a third time. Each time he heard the satisfying snap of bone as ribs broke from his assault.

  It was only after the third strike that the dead woman’s weight shifted enough for her to be thrown free. Tossing her to one side, tearing her shirt free in the process, Hector rolled to his feet, gasping for breath, and dizzy from the exertion. His knife was on the floor, too far to grab without another strike. He strode toward the woman and punted her head with the toe of his work boot. Catching her square on the jaw, he kicked the lower left-hand side of her face free, leaving it hanging on by the right-hand jaw joint. Black blood spurted up into the air like a rotten fountain, and the smell that rode with it was overpowering.

  The woman seemed not to notice that her face was missing such a vital component, and continued to thrash on the ground, reaching for Hector, hungry desire filling her eyes.

  Bending down, Hector collected his knife and stared at the woman.

  She could not have been that long into her twenties, and from the look of her body, she had taken care of herself. Dropping to his knees, he trapped one arm beneath him and stabbed down through the center of her forehead. She fell still instantly. Hector pulled his blade free and was instantly hit by a case of the shakes.

  He couldn’t catch his breath, and the world began to spin. Darkness threatened to claim him, but Hector forced himself to stand. Leaning against the nearest tree, he held himself upright and forced long deep breaths into his lungs.

  After a few minutes, the nausea and dizziness passed. He began to get a sense of where he was, and his strength returned. Although a weakness had set into his legs, which he was sure would take some time to disappear.

  It was the closest he had come to death since it all started, and it reinforced in his mind the knowledge of one thing. He would not go out like that. He would sooner put a bullet in his brain than risk turning into one of them.

  He didn’t have time to rest, however, as the sound of movement just to his left brought the fear surging through his veins. The sudden rush cleared his head.

  No, it’s too soon. We’re not ready, Hector thought as he looked through the trees.

  His head told him to expect a sea of the undead, their jaws salivating at the prospect of the five-course meal that lay ahead of them.

  He braced himself, peering into the trees. He focused, prepared for the worst. Moving forward, his legs still uncertain beneath him, Hector stared into th
e trees.

  He jumped when the body appeared, moving slowly through the trees, but he stifled the gasp before it could escape his throat, and warn the deer of his presence.

  Picking up his rifle, Hector took aim and fired. His shot was not as accurate as he wanted it to be, his shaking body sending the bullet into the creature’s neck rather than its head.

  The deer ran a few steps, blood leaking from the hole just above its shoulder. Collapsing a moment later, it lay on the ground, crying out and kicking with its legs.

  “Shit,” Hector growled aloud, knowing the sound of the creature’s death would attract anything within earshot.

  Hurrying to where it lay, he pulled his knife and after wiping off the zed blood as best he could, he sliced the creature’s neck, accidentally saturating himself in arterial spray.

  Coughing as his mouth filled with blood, Hector fell to the floor once again, landing on his ass.

  “Fucking shit,” he growled, spitting deer blood onto the woodland floor.

  The creature fell silent, and with a final kick of its hind legs, it died. Larger than Hector expected, it was going to be quite the task moving it back to the camp. He had to try, however, as leaving it even for a moment would mean losing it.

  Taking hold of the creature by the legs, Hector heaved, slowly dragging the carcass back toward the camp. As soon as he came into view, he saw Taron jogging toward him.

  “What the fuck happened to you?” Taron asked, the initial smile on his face sliding away when he saw the look in Hector’s eyes.

  “Close call with a couple of posties. Nothing serious,” Hector lied, putting on the cold-hearted front.

  “All right,” Taron answered, letting Hector know he knew that the lawyer was lying, but was happy not to push the matter any further. “Need a hand?”

  “Sure, let’s get her up, been dragging her through the shit for a few hundred meters already.”

  Together the two men hoisted the deer into the air and carried the blood-dripping carcass into the camp.

  “You do know that the blood is just going to draw them to us, right?” Taron said as they placed the deer down in what served as their front yard. Henry came walking up to them, wiping his hands on a rag.