Surviving The Zombie Apocalypse (Book 1): Sanctuary (24 page)

Then we
settled on the bedrooms. There were three of them.

“Lois
and I get one,” said Lizzy firmly. “We need alone time.”

Susan
looked scandalized. The expressions on both their faces left no doubt as to
what they intended to do. Mary didn’t blink an eye. She was used to it, and not
the least bit self-conscious or concerned regarding her sister’s relationship.

“Since
the two of you are married,” continued Lizzy, “I suppose you can take a room as
well. After being in those flimsy little tents for so long you probably need
some alone time too.”

“Don’t
presume…” began Susan.

“I
presume all the fucking time,” interrupted Lizzy, with a shit eating grin on
her face.

“Honey,”
said Timothy, “don’t argue when we’ve just been given a real bed to sleep in.”

That
apparently made more sense to the woman because she dropped her complaints.

“Jacob
and I get the master bedroom,” said Briana. “No discussions on the matter.”

Susan
didn’t say anything, but she shot me a look that was something like contempt,
though not nearly as bad as what Julie used to give. Then she shrugged her
shoulders. She clearly thought the two of us were living in sin or engaged in
improper behavior. Briana and I were definitely drawing closer together, and I
wasn’t all that surprised when she claimed the bedroom. I had thought to offer
it to Miranda since she’d been through a private, alone Hell, but she clearly
didn’t want to be by herself and likely would have refused. Well, Miranda could
share the living room with Mary and Cherie.

“Don’t
worry about them,” laughed Mary. “They never make noise at night, aside from
Jacob snoring. His plumbing may not even work.”

“I
don’t…”

“Yes,
you do,” confirmed Briana, “but not much and not that loud.”

“I…
Never mind. Wait a second. What did you say about plumbing Mary?”

She
giggled, then began to laugh when she realized I understood what she was
implying. I should have caught on immediately, but it was late. I was tired.

Susan
stared at us for a moment, Timothy as well, but they only said goodnight and
vanished. Lois and Lizzy hung around long enough to make sure Mary didn’t need
anything but not a second more. Both couples certainly wanted their private
time. I was sure the moods tomorrow would be much improved. I also wondered how
thin the walls were. Hmm, the thoughts that go through one’s head at times.

“I want
your laptop to watch a movie with,” said Mary.

“I
concur,” said Cherie. “Miranda, is watching... I mean…”

“I know
what you mean,” she said. “That’s okay. I have no trouble making out what’s
happening as long as I can hear the dialogue. Sometimes with action movies, I
need a quick description.”

“You
still owe me a laptop of my own,” added Mary. “Remember, you promised.”

“We’ll
find a Best Buy or something and grab several of them. I’ll copy over what I
have for you then. If we ever get a generator, we’ll set up some proper
television sets and DVD players.” I paused. “Enjoy that sort of thing while you
can. It’s likely no new ones will be manufactured for decades, if not longer,
and those lying about will eventually break down. I’m foreseeing a long, long
period without movies, music too.”

“Thanks
for cheering me up,” said the teenager. She was still smiling. “Now hand it
over, so I can watch while it’s still possible.”

I went
outside to collect my laptop from the Jeep while Mary kept an eye out for
zombies. There weren’t any. In fact, the forest was unusually quiet. This was a
calm, peaceful place. Hopefully it would stay that way.

Going
back inside, I bolted the door. The ladies had arranged themselves on the sofa
in preparation for their entertainment, such as it was. They should be fine
sleeping in the room. In addition to the couch, there were several easy chairs.
Those went way back, and were definitely more comfortable than lying on the
floor, not that anyone would consider doing so. We had picked up the animal droppings
and most of the mess, but the carpet was still disgusting.

“Night,”
I said.

I
received a chorus of goodnights as I left and headed to the master bedroom in
the back of the house.

*
* *

“Lock
the door,” ordered Briana softly, the second I entered.

She had
lit some candles. They didn’t give off much light, compared to the flashlights
and lanterns we normally used, but it was enough to see by. A terrible waste of
a limited resource however. I didn’t know any bee keepers. How would we get
more? I’m joking. I wasn’t thinking any such thing. My attention was on Briana
who was lying atop the bed wearing a lacy red bra and a matching pair of
panties. She normally wore shorts and a tank top when sleeping. This was a
major improvement.

“The
door Jacob.”

I pulled
my eyes away and pushed the button on the cheap little lock. It might keep a
determined four year old out, though that was iffy.

“Everyone
else settled?”

I
nodded. “Watching a movie on my computer or in their rooms.”

“You
know, Cherie’s probably going to look up your bank records or something.”

“Nah,” I
replied. “Mary wouldn’t let her, and I moved and hid all my personal files the
other day in case I did decide to let someone borrow it. My secrets are safe.”

She
turned about, unhooking her bra and tossing it on the nightstand. Between her
position and her quickly lying down, I didn’t actually get to see anything.

“Since
that’s all good, you get to give me a back rub.”

“Don’t
you owe me one?”

“Probably.
I forget. Come on now. I have some lotion too. Couldn’t find any massage oil.
Would have been nice.”

“True,”
I agreed. Yes, I was staring again. Her skin was smooth, and while not flawless
– face it, no one had flawless skin – it was close.

“How you
get that scar?” I asked, pulling off my shoes and socks.

“Between
my shoulder blades? That was a fall from my bicycle when I was little. I hit a
shrub while learning to ride. The chain broke and one end flipped up and gashed
me.”

My shirt
and jeans joined the shoes on the floor.

“Sounds
painful.”

She
shivered slightly. “I screamed and screamed and ended up getting about two
dozen stitches. I had nightmares about it for years. I was never that scared
before, or since.” Briana paused. “Not even with my mom and brother. I should
have been, but...” She trailed off.

I
grabbed the hand lotion on the nightstand and let some drip onto her back
before I started the massage. She was tense.

“I could
be arrested for this,” I pointed out.

There
was no seriousness to my comment. Such a thing was never going to happen, not
now.

“Mmm,
that feels good. And don’t you dare ask when I’m going to turn eighteen.”

I
paused. “When do you turn eighteen? I mean, when’s your birthday.”

I was
ashamed to admit that I had no idea.

“God,
Jacob. I just said don’t ask. You should never question a woman about such
things. Didn’t your mother teach you that?”

I began
to press on her lower back, my eyes glued to the almost, but accursedly not,
transparent panties.

“Mostly
she said to always remember to get them a nice present.”

“In that
case, it’s December 17. I will expect something very expensive, wrapped in
bright paper.”

“I’ll
keep an eye out for something appropriately gaudy and tasteless.”

She
smiled, then sighed as I continued on in silence. Finishing her back, I moved
to her legs and finally the soles of her feet. Briana really seemed to enjoy
that.

“No
stopping.”

“Sweetie,
I’ve been at this for a long time.” I glanced at my watch. “Forty minutes.” My
fingers were starting to cramp. “Your turn.”

“Fine.
Blow out the candles, and we’ll switch.”

“If I
blow the candles out, it’ll be dark in the room.”

“Well,
duh Jacob. I’m mostly naked here.”

I gave
her a slight tickle along the ribs, eliciting a soft squeal.

“I’m not
seeing this as a problem Briana.”

“Are you
saying you want to see me naked?” Her voice dropped.

“Do you
really have to ask that?” I paused. Actually, barring the past hour, we had not
previously been romantic. Teasing, yes. Flirting, more and more as time went
on. Nothing physical though, not even a kiss. “Roll over.”

She did
so, and I kept my gaze politely brief before I leaned down to touch my lips to
hers.

“Still
want your massage?” she asked, after we broke apart.

“Yes.
No. Wait.”

She
began to laugh. I deserved it, and partly to hide my red face I went ahead and
blew out the candles.

Briana
wrapped her arms about me. “I don’t mean to be cruel or anything, but will you
just hold me tonight? I promise something more later. I might even give you
that back rub one day.”

“Of
course.”

How
disappointing.

“If you
like,” she continued, “we could bounce up and down on the bed some so the
others wouldn’t know that I’m not quite as ready as I thought.”

“No need
for that. They’ll assume anyway.”

“Not
Mary. That one’s bright. She’s the only one who’s figured us out, I think.”

“I haven’t
figured us out yet.”

She gave
me another kiss. “Me either.”

The
silence lasted only a minute.

“Jacob?”

I
shifted position, trying to get more comfortable. “Yes Briana?”

“The age
of consent in Nebraska, Texas too, is seventeen, not eighteen. Learned that in
government class.”

Assuming
Briana was telling the truth, and I had no reason to doubt her, my previous
comments were more than a little foolish. Talk about embarrassment.

“Why
didn’t you say so earlier?”

She
shrugged. “I thought it was kind of funny, you thinking I was jail bait.”
Briana let out a massive yawn. “But I’m not.”

My mind
was whirling. I had honestly believed any sort of physical relationship with
Briana would be illegal. This wasn’t going to stop me, not now that the first
steps had been taken, and that insight doesn’t say anything good about my
character, but... I needed to think about this some more.

Interlude – Susan & Timothy’s Story

After
we’d eaten dinner, and before the bedroom incident, Susan and Timothy told us
their story and that of the others beside the lake. This was their second year
attending the Living Bible Church of Christ’s annual camping trip. The previous
one was held in
Indiana
, and while it had been pleasant, the
majority wanted to select a spot further from home, so
Nebraska
had been chosen as an alternative. Most
of their time was spent in prayer and group activities, but they took breaks to
visit
Mount
Rushmore
and the
Crazy Horse monument, along with
Chimney Rock
and a few other regional sights. Like
most who attended, this also served as their family vacation.

The
first week went well. Susan and Timothy were among friends. There had been no
fights or conflicts. One person did get a mild case of food poisoning, but that
cleared up quickly. There was plenty of hiking and fishing, and they had been
enjoying themselves. Then the change hit.

The
entire church group, and quite a few of the other campers, had been awake to
watch a meteor shower. It was a little one but impressive enough to keep their
attention, especially that of the children. Then a large number of people
suddenly began to suffer convulsions, screaming and falling to the ground
before going still. No one knew or understood what was happening, and many
tried to help while others screamed and cried over loved ones. It was every bit
as confusing and chaotic and dreadful as what the rest of the world was
experiencing at that very same moment.

Susan
attempted to assist a child, a little boy, who had collapsed. His mother, a
recent widow, had also been afflicted. Timothy was gently shaking her shoulder
trying to get some sort of response, anything, when her eyes opened, covered
with a gray, mucus like film. She turned toward him and lifted both arms,
grabbing hold of his head, fingers wrapping themselves about Timothy’s short
cropped hair.

“Judith,”
he said, both relieved and a bit worried at the sudden, strange movement, “you
can let go. We’ll get you some help, an ambulance. Don’t worry.”

“She’s
alive!” exclaimed Susan. They hadn’t found pulses and feared the worst.
“Charlie is too,” she added, when the son likewise began to stir.

“Judith,”
protested Timothy. He pried her hands free and pushed the much smaller woman
back to the ground. “You need to keep still until we can find a doctor.”

A scream
sounded nearby, and Susan swiveled to see who it was. Charlie seized her arm
and pulled it toward his mouth. Timothy, acting out of instinct, quickly jerked
his wife away.

“Hey!”
exclaimed Susan.

“He bit
me!” someone else shrieked.

Timothy
pulled himself to his feet, dragging Susan up with him. Shouts erupted all
around them, even worse than before. Some in their church group were running,
seemingly going nowhere, and to one side the assistant pastor was trying to
calm everyone down. Both watched as a pair of zombies collided with him,
ripping huge chunks of flesh from his face and arm.

“What’s
going on?” cried Susan.

“Judith,
Charlie,” ordered Timothy, “stop that!”

Both had
risen and were moving steadily toward the couple who, in contrast, were quickly
backing away.

“What’s
wrong with you?” asked Susan. “Say something. Please.”

With no
idea what was happening, they were about to turn and run like so many others
when a man, another camper they hadn’t seen before, stepped up and slammed a
two by four down on Charlie’s head. He was a big fellow, and the boy’s skull
was crushed, spewing bits and pieces of brain across the grass.

“My God!
My God!” stammered Susan. She fell to her knees and began retching.

Judith
never wavered. She moved closer, targeting Susan. Timothy stepped in front of
his wife, still uncertain how to react. Fortunately for him, the interloper was
more decisive. The piece of wood swung sidewise. Judith staggered, and he hit
her again, then a third time. She fell and stayed down.

“You
killed them,” gasped Timothy.

“I don’t
think they were alive to start with,” he replied, almost as rattled as the
couple. “I’m Raymond by the way, but don’t call me that. I go by Ray.”

“Okay,”
whispered Timothy.

“Take
care of her.” He turned to go.

“Wait,
what do you mean not alive?”

The man
shrugged, somewhat apprehensively. “I’m a registered nurse, work in an ER. I
checked the vitals of several of those who died. They were dead, no doubt about
it.”

“The
dead don’t walk,” protested Timothy. “They don’t get up again.”

“Either
way, I’m not about to let them kill anyone else.”

“What?”

There
was no answer forthcoming. Ray had left and was bearing down on another zombie.

Timothy
and his wife clung to one another as they stared at the melee, completely
overcome by shock. Many of their longtime friends were dead, Rodney and Edie
with their throats torn out. Others fell around them. People were killing and
dying.

“Take
them down!” shouted Ray. He slammed the two by four into another zombie.
“Before they get anyone else!”

Most of
those present ignored him, more concerned with getting away, but a few tried to
fight back. Some only knocked the zombies over and held them down, not wanting
to do any harm, but the monsters struggled to get free.

“Don’t
do that!” shouted Ray. “Just kill them. You have to kill them!”

There
was a gunshot, and Susan shook in Timothy’s arms. He saw one of the zombies
stagger as it was hit in the chest. The man continued to fire, emptying his
clip into the thing, all shots at the center of mass. It did nothing.
Reloading, he put a single round in the head when the zombie was a mere three
feet away. That did the job.

“Heads!”
yelled Ray. “Hit em in the head.” He’d seen it too. “It has to be the head!”

“What’s
going on?” cried Susan.

Her
husband continued to hold her tight. He had no answer. Even if he had, it
would’ve been difficult to make himself heard. The commotion was growing. Then
those who had been bitten and died as a result started to rise. Among them was
the assistant pastor. He bumped against the table holding the lantern. It
tumbled over the edge, and the light went out, casting the area in near
complete darkness.

“Where
are they?” someone asked.

Another
scream was heard, one of pain.

“Lights,
get lights!”

Timothy
didn’t know who said it, but he pulled a small flashlight from his pocket and
turned it on. Shining this about, he tried to make out what was happening.
Others began to do the same. Then someone found and switched on a second
electric lantern. That did the trick, and shortly thereafter the final zombie
was killed.

*
* *

“God
damn,” declared Ray. He was coated in blood and bits of flesh and bone.

“Please,”
said Pastor Wills, “try to mind your language.”

Given
the circumstances it was an asinine, pointless comment, and the male nurse
ignored the smaller man completely.

“Are
there any more of the things?”

Someone
screamed in the distance, near the tents, and Ray took off in that direction.

“Children
to me,” called the pastor, “over here. Adults too, to keep an eye on them.” He
looked at Timothy and Susan. “Go assist that man brother Timothy. We have to
save the others. Susan, you don’t look well. Please stay here.”

How the
pastor managed to remain calm and clear headed was beyond the two of them, but
they gathered up the survivors, keeping them safe. A zombie shambled into view,
heading right for the little group, but Ray was back by that time and dealt
with the menace.

“Timothy!”
cried Susan. She ran forward and gripped him tight, as he trailed along behind
the nurse.

“The
others?” asked the pastor.

Ray
shook his head. “Bad over there. We got some injured, but a lot of the campers
are just dead, a whole lot of fucking dead people.” He slumped to the ground, exhausted.

Pastor
Wills put a hand on the younger man’s shoulder. “You did well saving those you
could. I, I’m sorry to say, did not react until it was far too late, and it was
only by God’s grace that I was not killed or harmed.”

*
* *

When the
sun rose, they took stock of the destruction. A good third of the tents were
down, or splattered with blood. Bodies were everywhere, some of them, too many
of them, belonging to children. Many of the living were in a daze, not knowing
what to do, and the injured sobbed and cursed as the infection took hold and
began to grow worse.

Finally,
someone thought to start his car and turn on the radio. They couldn’t pick up
many stations, but what they did find clearly indicated it was a global event.
They also learned the attackers were truly dead, something they all now
suspected or believed but didn’t want to talk about.

The
pastor began to organize, a skill he excelled at, assigning women to watch the
children and help the injured. The men were told to gather the supplies, so
they could see what they had on hand. Ray, along with a few others, mostly
campers who had nothing to do with the church group, patrolled the area keeping
an eye out for any more zombies, but none appeared.

*
* *

Around
9:00 AM, a park ranger drove up. He took one look at the area and the rows of
bodies they had laid out, covered with sheets or towels, and shook his head.

“You
folk need to stay put,” he said. “Don’t try to get to
Chadron
or any of the other towns.”

“What’s
happening there?” asked Pastor Wills.

“They’re
a mess. The police are trying to restore order, at least that’s what I’m
hearing. A lot of them are dead. Some are now these… walking corpses.” He
tapped one with the toe of his boot. “I’m off to check on others in the forest
here, but I’ll be back.”

He
didn’t answer any other questions or linger, despite the pleas to tell them
more, nor did any of the group see the man again. As far as Susan and Timothy
knew, he was dead or had run off.

*
* *

Things
quickly began to fragment. Some campers simply packed up their stuff and drove
off. A few of the church group did the same. The pastor asked them to wait, but
they had families in
Illinois
,
and being unable, for the most part, to reach them with their cells, they
wanted to get back and check on them personally. The two who did get hold of
someone were the first to go. The news was not good. One had a brother hiding
in his apartment watching through the window as a nightmare unfolded. The other
couple had a teenage daughter staying with her cousin. The cousin was dead, but
the girl had gotten in her car and was trying to drive home when the connection
was lost.

By the
time the sun set on the first dreadful day, half of the survivors had left,
taking many of the injured with them, but Ray hung around. He didn’t have any
family and saw no point charging into anything that was likely worse than what
they now faced.

*
* *

Those
who’d been bitten grew steadily worse, and there was an ongoing debate whether
or not to seek help. But between the park ranger’s warning and the news reports
they’d heard, the odds of finding any were slim at best. So they remained where
they were, arguing and discussing the matter over and over. Three days later,
having come to no decision, the infected began to die.

The
first death had been hard, a teenager. He reanimated seven minutes later and
promptly bit his father. Those who were killed by the zombies came back.
Everyone had seen this, but they hadn’t thought the same would happen to those
who merely became sick after getting bitten. Looking back on it, Timothy
realized this had been outright stupidity on their part, with a lot of willful
denial mixed in, and it had cost another life.

The man
who was bitten watched as Raymond clubbed his son, crushing the skull so badly
that part of the scalp peeled away. He looked at his own arm, said nothing, and
walked off. They watched him disappear into the trees. He never came back.

After
that, they stood death watch over the sick, and when each one in turn rose as a
zombie, he or she was put down. They then took the bodies and buried them with
the others in a series of mass graves a quarter mile from their camp.