Resurrection of the Fallen (Book 1): Surviving New York (2 page)

“Well, guess we have no choice. Let’s get off, but stay close together,” my step mom said. My dad took mine and Samantha’s hands as we walked off of the ferry to make sure we stayed close by him for protection. If anyone here could keep us alive, it was him. He had the skills that not many possessed in this city. He had fought for so long to protect this country and its citizens. He had gone up against a wide variety of situations that had honed his mental and physical capabilities immensely. I was still nervous and scared, but reassured that I had decided to be with him today of all days. We were followed by the other two passengers on the ferry; a young woman about my age and a guy a little older than I. They appeared amused as they nonchalantly strolled to the edge of the dock and just stood there, waiting to board again. They were uninterested in going any farther away from the boat, seemingly complacent to watch us explore the island and put our lives in danger for them.

“We can go check the ticket booth. It’s not far from here and hopefully someone will be there,” my step mom said, trying to hide her fear from us. She didn’t want Samantha freaking out any worse than she already was. Their parental instincts to protect their children had kicked into overdrive and that meant pretending all was fine for our sakes. It was somewhat comforting in the face of the unknown.

“If anything happens, run for the ferry. Open water should be safer for us than on this island,” my dad cautioned. My step mom and I nodded to let him know that we had heard him as we continued to the ticket booth. Samantha just stared ahead, transfixed on our destination up the walkway ahead.

We never heard a sound as we approached the ticket booth and we never saw anything that indicated something bad had happened here. The only unnatural thing about this place was that the ferryman, Jake, was stock still in the spot in front of the booth, pale as a ghost and visibly trembling. His face was twisted in fear and his mouth hung open in shock as though he wanted to scream, but nothing would come out.. My dad tightened his grip on my sister and me as he started to shake himself. My heart rate quickened instinctively as we approached the stunned man. My body would be ready to run at any moment’s notice.

When we were standing beside of Jake, the shock of what was in the ticket booth shook us to our cores. My dad tried to cover Samantha’s eyes to keep her from seeing it, but it was already too late. She let out a high-pitched scream as the image of the man in the ticket booth being eaten by what used to be two other humans was burned into her mind; it would forever be etched into her memory for those few moments of vision. The scene was gruesome. The dead man was leaned back over the backrest of his chair, his head dangling down the back of it. His flesh had been ripped from his body in random spots, exposing the sinew-like tendons underneath. The devourers donned employee uniforms as well, although theirs weren’t covered in so much blood. Even though their faces were turned away from us, I could tell that one of them was missing an ear and the other was missing half of their jaw.

What happened next is all a blur in my mind now. The gruesome things I’ve witnessed and done over the years had washed the memory a little. What little bit of clarity I had left of the situation reminded me the shriek that my sister let out moments prior had alerted the zombies to our presence there. They turned in our direction, searching for us with their white eyes. We didn’t know it at the time, but they were extremely light sensitive. It blinded them, causing them to have to rely on their other four senses to navigate the light of day.

We stood there frozen to our spots out of fear and fascination with the look of these things. We couldn’t help but marvel at the eye color change that the virus caused and how milky white they were. It reminded me of those naked mole rats you see on the television. It was a dead giveaway that something was wrong with them, but in our fear-stricken internal panic, we couldn’t comprehend anything. Their eyes should’ve been the second clue to their sensitivity to light; Jake not being attacked right away should’ve been the first. It never ceased to amaze me what fear does to a mind in the clutches of it.

The thing looking out at us let out an ear-splitting shriek before rushing the window of the ticket booth. We jumped, but in our panic we didn’t run. Our emotions had us completely frozen to the spot. Its attempt to get at us failed, to our relief. Its head made contact with the glass, bouncing back, and it went down hard. We could hear the thump as it landed on the floor by its victim. A streak of blood was left on the window, but whether it came from the victim or that thing’s head busting open, I wasn’t sure. My step mom clutched at her chest as if she needed to hold her heart in place. The rest of us made no move to show our fear or relief. We all just stood there shaking. We couldn’t make our bodies move. Fear had seeped deeply into our muscles, paralyzing us to the spot.

A palpable flood of relief rippled through those of us standing there. It was great to see that the zombies were stuck behind the glass in a box. Just to be on the cautious side, Jake started to back away slowly toward the ferry, never letting his eyes off of the last remaining zombie staring us down. It didn’t move. It merely stood there growling. A sudden gust of wind blew our way, carrying the intoxicating scent of death on its wings. It was enough to break us from our trances as the stench filled our nostrils and turned our stomachs. We followed Jake’s lead and started backing toward the ferry; my sister, dad, and me first as my step mom and Jake followed closely behind.

Why we didn’t all turn and run for it, I never could understand. Maybe what happened next wouldn’t have happened had we just ran for it. Maybe we’d all still be alive today. Maybe we wouldn’t have lost another member of our family that day. Who knows? Maybe my dad is right and God only saved her from what we’ve endured since the outbreak. All I do know is that we haven’t been the same since. We all miss her dearly. More importantly, dad hasn’t been the same since. He’s close to a meltdown of his own.

This particular incident plays over and over again in my head. It’s the constant reminder of what happens when you’re careless and ignorant in what you’re dealing with. Four years have passed, but I still feel her loss like it was yesterday. There is still a huge, bleeding hole in my heart where she used to reside, but that’s the way I like it to be. Without that constant reminder, we would’ve died not long after she had. The only thing I regret is forgetting her voice and, here lately, her face. She had become a blur within a blur, a memory on the edge of extinction.

I guess the shrieking from Samantha and the zombie in the booth had lured others to where we were. Perhaps it was the fact that the wind had changed direction without our noticing and blew our scent in their direction. The most likely scenario was a combination of these two things that sealed our fate and tore away a part of our lives that day.

Five zombies dressed in Coney Island employee uniforms came trudging from behind the ticket booth. Their noses were slightly lifted into the wind like a blood hound sniffing out its target. Their mouths, grotesquely torn and bloody, hung open with bits and pieces of flesh in their teeth. Some had no flesh left on their faces, especially around the mouth area where their teeth and gums could be seen by our entire group. Their eyes were the same milky white as the ones in the booth. They moaned incessantly as they tried to find their way to us. This was what nightmares were made of. This was what haunted children and adults alike.

Our next moves sealed our fate. My step mom stepped backward and hit a large rock with her heel, kicking it toward myself and Samantha. The zombies perked up and turned their dead eyes directly at us, their expressions morphing from curious to murderous. We knew it was over then. They let out an ear-splitting shriek like the one in the ticket booth had done and barreled toward us at full speed. My dad threw Samantha over his shoulders and jerked me around to face the docks before dragging me behind him as he ran. Whiplash was the least of my worries at that point. I struggled to keep up.

His hands were too full with us that he couldn’t grab my step mom. His main concern in his fight-or-flight mode was to get his children to safety. It was a race to the ferry and our lives were at stake. With a gust of chilly wind trying to force us back to the zombies, Jake radioed the ferry to prepare to lift the plank and ship out immediately. He took a quick look over his shoulder at the ones behind him and tripped over his own feet, tumbling down and snagging my step mom’s feet in the process. She cried out as she hit the ground with him. I glanced back, burning her horrified expression into my memory forever.

The zombies were on them within seconds without my dad so much as looking back to know his wife was in trouble. Jake’s screams filled the island as his flesh was torn from bone and his blood spilled across the ground. The two other passengers, upon seeing us running for our lives and from what, turned tail and bolted up the plank of the ferry to safety. We made it to the ferry in time for his screams to cease, only to see my step mom get bit on the ankle by the zombie that kept her from getting back up from her fall. Her agonizing scream coupled with her painful facial expression broke my heart into pieces that day. The realization that I was losing my second mom was too much for me to handle. I did my best to hide my emotions, but inside I was a nervous wreck. Tears slid down my face swiftly, leaving streaks from my eyeliner behind.

Samantha went hysterical as she broke free from our dad’s grip and turned to see her mother in the clutches of the undead cannibals. She started crying uncontrollably and shaking violently with each sob that escaped her lips. She continued to scream for her momma as the captain and other ferryman prepared for shipping out. My dad broke down with her and started sobbing out his wife’s name as he clutched tightly to their only child around the shoulders. I stood there, rooted to the spot at the bow of the ferry as time appeared to slow down. I watched in horror as my step mom fought to get free from the attack on her leg. She repeatedly kicked and punched at the zombie that was devouring her ankle with gusto. It didn’t seem to be doing any good, but with one well placed kick, she crushed its skull in with her heel and freed herself as it collapsed down to the concrete. She stumbled to her feet and hobbled as fast as she could the final five feet of the docks to her family.

Frightened looks were exchanged between the last of the crew as they hurried to prevent her from boarding. The ferryman had only managed to pull the plank to shoulder level and my step mom, desperate in her attempt to flee death and reach her family, grabbed a hold of it and clung on with all her might. She pleaded with the man over and over again to allow her to get on with us even as her blood soaked her pants and pooled around her on the docks. The ferryman pulled ferociously in an attempt to dislodge her as the captain slowly pulled away from the docks to escape the hoard of zombies heading our way. Still she clung to her only salvation with all she could muster even as she now dangled over the water. Her face showed the struggle she was going through to hold on and the fear that caused the adrenaline within her body to pump furiously through her veins.

“Make her let go!” the ferryman yelled over his shoulder at my dad. He shook his head vigorously at the idea, unwilling to condemn his own wife to whatever Fate was about to throw her way. He would not decide to make the death blow for her. He could not be the reason for her demise.

“Move! Let me show you how it’s done,” the strange male passenger hollered as he made his way to the plank. He withdrew from underneath his shirt a silver Ruger .22 revolver. “Let the Hell go, bitch!” he yelled at my step mom as he drew back the hand that held the gun.

“Please. My children need their mother,” she pleaded as she continued to struggle to hold on. The man looked back at us with a smirk before bringing the butt of the gun down on her hands full force, his heels coming up off the ground as he did so. I cringed as Samantha screamed for her mom once more. My dad turned her away from what was happening and closed his eyes tightly shut. She went limp in our dad’s arms, hanging as she sobbed uncontrollably for her mother. Tears silently streaked down my dad’s face as he clutched at his precious child; the only link left to his wife after today. He made no noise as he cried; making it impossible to know that he was without watching his face and shoulders. I had a feeling that he was wishing to start the day over and do it differently to avoid this situation. Maybe it made him think of losing mom again.

The man brought the gun down again, catching her on the temple. Her head twisted over her shoulder and quickly bounced back around. As she looked up at him, her brown eyes started to turn a milky blue. Her injuries appeared not to aggravate her any longer and the blow to the head she just received went unnoticed by her. She was no longer struggling to hold on as though she had gained extra strength in her transformation. My mouth fell agape in a mixture of awe and fear at what was happening. It wasn’t taking long at all for her to turn and I was getting to witness it myself. The virus was changing her entire nature right before our eyes. We had our first glimpse of what to expect from these events brought on by the Russians and Germans. For the first time in my entire life, I wished that man would shoot me. I wished he would just go ahead and end it all for me. This was not what I wanted to look forward to in life. It wasn’t appealing in the least.

The man brought his hand back one more time as my step mom’s face contorted into a snarling, enraged look not unlike the demons you see on television. She let out a high-pitched shriek as his hand came down once more. He caught her in the same spot on her temple, knocking her off of the plank this time. As the ferryman secured it into place, we watched her body sink to the depths of the ocean. That was the end of her. We had lost her forever to the sea. Our family would never be the same, but in a way we had gained something more. I looked at the group of people around me, wondering if we would be in this together or if we would even survive docking back in New York. The start of our journey began with the loss of my step mom, but it wouldn’t end there. At this point, only God knew for certain if we would survive together or be taken down with the rest of the population.