When the Dead Rise (Book 1): The Beginning (23 page)

The end of flight 1028...

Stewart hadn't been in the bathroom for more than ten minutes when the screams started anew. Suddenly, Stewart couldn't imagine leaving the safety of the bathroom; he sat down and listened to the chaos unfolding in the cramped plane, wishing he'd paid the extra fare for a direct flight. If he hadn't been so concerned with cost savings, he could have already been sitting poolside with a cocktail.

"Get him off," someone shrieked before another scream ripped through the cabin; any replies were quickly drown out by the panicked cries of the other passengers.

Someone pounded on a nearby door and Stewart assumed another attendant was trying to speak with the captain - he hoped they'd land soon and he could get off the worst flight of his life.

The pounding ceased, "What?" a deep voice demand and Stewart imagined the Captain standing in the doorway with a scowl.

The screams from the cabin had reached an all-time high but Stewart still couldn't resist a peek; he needed to know what was happening. He cracked the door open and peeked out, just in time to watch the disembowelled attendant wrap her bloody arms around the neck of a man wearing a captain's uniform. The man struggled to disentangle himself from the woman's grasp, but she held on as the captain stumbled backwards into the cockpit.

The floor beneath Stewart's feet suddenly tilted, causing him to lose his balance and slam into the lavatory door; it closed with a thump beneath his weight. Stunned, he struggled to right himself, but the odd tilt of the plane made it impossible. He lay back against the door as his heart thundered in his chest; dawning horror filled him as he realized that the plane was going to crash. He'd seen the attendant's teeth break the captain's skin, but it hadn't appeared to be a fatal bite - just a nibble really. The plane had been in a dive for only a few seconds, but Stewart suspected that if he'd been capable of correcting the angle of decent, the captain would have already done so. His mind wandered to the co-pilot; wouldn't he be able to regain control over the plane?

Bracing himself against the wall, Stewart carefully lifted the door. Bloody, searching fingers poked through the crack and Stewart slammed the door closed again. The bones in the fingers snapped but their owner didn't try to pull back, instead there was a thump and the door hit Stewart's back.

"Occupied," he shouted as he braced to close the door again.

There was another thump and again the door cracked open. The airplane banked wildly to the left, causing Stewart to lose his footing and the door to fly open. Peter stood bracing himself against the wall, or at least that was Stewart's first thought. He looked carefully at the man he'd only met a few hours earlier, and knew that his new friend was no longer present in his body. What he was, Stewart wasn't sure; he was sure he wasn't looking at Peter.

There was an awful bite on the side of Peter's neck, exposing torn muscle and his severed trachea. His eyes were pale, with a milky film coating them and his teeth clacked together making the most unsettling sound. Part of his nose had been bitten off and Stewart noted with disgust that a portion of his tongue also seemed to be missing. Bile rose in his throat as he stared into the vacant eyes of the man he'd come to like only a few short hours earlier.

How had things spiraled so quickly out of control and what was really plaguing the state of Texas? Stewart didn't think it was just a few oil spills and rioting. He thought back to the footage he'd seen earlier and suddenly understood why all of it had been taken from a helicopter. No one in their right mind would willingly go shoot ground level footage if these things were the cause of the rioting. He also had a sneaking suspicion that the government was trying to cover up the true reason for the rioting until they could get it under control - but would they be able to? Stewart was witnessing firsthand how quickly this thing could spread and he doubted the army would be able to stand against them for long.

The plane tilted again and the screams coming from the cabin amplified. Peter's corpse was knocked back against the galley doors and several bloody figures crashed down the aisle and through the open cockpit door. An attendant flew past, hitting the doorframe with a sickening crunch. Her limp body lay half on the galley doors while her legs dangled into the cockpit; within moments grasping hands pulled at her and she disappeared through the doorway.

Stewart, now kneeling on the bathroom wall, knew there was no way he was getting off this plane alive. Tears streamed down his face as unbidden thoughts of his estranged wife and son filled his mind. They'd have to face this horror without him. He wouldn't be there to protect them because now Stewart understood that this plague could not be stopped. He wished for his phone, wanting to hear his family’s voices one last time and tell them how much he loved them. Not being a religious man Stewart wasn't sure if his prayers would be heard, but he still sent up a silent plea that they'd survive what was coming.

Having regained its footing on the wall of the galley, the Peter-monster poked its head into the bathroom. He raised his arms and let out a long, pitiful moan. Stewart pressed himself into a corner of the small room, wishing he wasn't about to die in the lavatory. The Peter-monster's fingers closed around Stewart's ankle and he whispered a goodbye to his family. For a split second, the plane shook violently and a moment later went up in a ball of flame.

Aftermath...

A blackened figure stumbled from the smouldering wreckage of the fuselage; its hair was gone, burned away along with its clothes and the remaining arm hung limply at its side. Movement in the nearby bushes caught its attention.

"That plane crashed somewhere around here" a man said in the growing darkness; the burned corpse awkwardly turned and shuffled towards the sound of the voice.

"We've called the police," said another voice; this time the speaker was female, "we should let them handle it."

The first voice responded "What if there are survivors?" there was more rustling of bushes, closer now. The corpse paused, swiveling its head back and forth before letting out a long low moan.

"What's that?" a third voice squeaked.

"Over here. Someone's alive!" the rustling of the underbrush quickened; the corpse paused behind a large tree as a light danced through the shadows.

"What if we can't find them?" There was a long pause and the corpse shuffled forward.

"Then we'll tell the rescue crew that we heard someone moaning in this area, but for now we should keep searching." The brush began to rustle again, coming ever closer. The zombie moaned, shuffling towards the approaching searchers. Soon a beam of light found the walking corpse and someone gasped.

"You shouldn't be walking around," one of the disembodied voices said, aghast.

The light grew as the group hurried towards the zombie, not understanding the situation they'd found themselves in. The zombie blinked, not seeing as much as sensing the approaching meal. Hunger was too small of a word for the gnawing pit in the monsters stomach; it was ravenous, and only wanted to consume one thing - the warm flesh that was quickly approaching. The moment it felt an arm wrapped around its charred shoulders, the zombie pivoted and bit down on the tender flesh and for a split-second, it was satisfied.

Volume 10: A Boat to Nowhere

24 hours earlier...

Sarah was watching TV when her cell phone rang; the caller ID read Aisha Peterson. While she hadn't been expecting the call, she was always happy to hear from her BFF. Snatching her phone off the table, Sarah muted the TV and answered with a cheerful, "Hey Aisha, I thought you were staying in tonight."

"Change of plans." Aisha shouted into her ear.

Sarah pulled the phone away from the side of her head with a frown; there was a cacophony of noise in the background, making it difficult to hear Aisha's words. "What? I can barely hear you," she shouted back. "Are you watching an action movie?"

"I feel like I'm in an action movie," there was a moment's pause and Sarah could make out the sounds of automatic gunfire in the background. Aisha continued, "Listen Sarah, there's something going on at the construction site. The army's here..."

There was another loud boom.
What the hell is going on there?
Sarah raised her voice in order for Aisha to hear her. "The army? What's the army doing there?"

Rather than answering, Aisha quickly went on, "Listen to me. You need to get as many supplies as you can and however many people you can gather and head for Curt's place on the Gulf. Something really bad is about to hit Houston and you need to get out."

"What are you talking about Aisha?" Sarah snorted, "Curt just got back yesterday from being out on the water for a month and Heather doesn't want any company for a few days."

"Just fucking do it," Aisha snapped; Sarah pressed her lips together so as not to say something she'd later regret. "Gather who and what you can. Make sure everyone has enough food and water to last at least a month and get to Curt's. I'll try to get there within the next twenty-four hours."

Still irritated by Aisha's outburst and not understanding what her friend was telling her to do Sarah said, "Whoa, hold on a minute. Why do you want me to do this?"

"There's a horde of fucking zombies headed into Houston and if you don't get out now, you may never be able to."

There was another long pause, as Sarah's mouth fell open.
Has she lost her mind?
She snorted, "Zombies?" Maybe Aisha was high..."Make sure to bring some of whatever you're on, next time you come over."

Taking a deep breath, Aisha responded and said slowly, "I'm not on anything Sarah. Please just do as I say." Another boom, this one seemingly right next to Aisha, made Sarah pull the phone away again. Even with it three feet from her ear, she clearly heard Aisha shout, "Whoever just threw that fucking grenade is going to lose their balls."

Fear flooded Sarah. "Aisha?" Who was she talking to and what was her friend doing messing around with grenades? When there was no response, she shouted her friends name with more urgency, "Aisha!"
What have you gotten yourself into now?

Sounding exhausted, Aisha finally replied, "Please, please just do as I ask."

"Okay fine," Sarah huffed, "but if this turns out to be some kind of sick joke, you can be the one to explain it to the others."

"I wish it were a joke." A sick thwacking sound followed another explosion. "I've got to go Sarah but please do as I ask." Aisha said with urgency.

Sarah's stomach churned and despite her best efforts, her voice still shook when she asked, "This is real, isn't it? It's not a joke."

Aisha sighed in relief, "No joke. Get friends, get supplies and get to Curt and Heather's. Tell the others I'll meet them there as soon as I can."

Choking back a sob, Sarah said, "You better show up."

"I will." Aisha promised and hung up.

Still clutching the phone to her ear, Sarah sat for another minute listening to dead air. She set it down with shaking hands, unsure how she was going to convince her friends to pack up and leave. As Sarah hurried into her room to pack the necessities, a growing sense of dread filled her. Aisha wouldn't have been so adamant, nor sounded so scared when she called, if they weren't all in grave danger.

Out of time...

Sirens sounded in the distance but the boatyard seemed eerily silent. Sarah had been pacing the length of the deck for the better part of two hours, and still there was no sign of Aisha. Her cell phone hadn't worked since arriving in Galveston twenty-two hours earlier so she had no way of contacting Aisha and her BFF was already running an hour late.

"She'll be here," Heather said gently from behind Sarah, making her start.

Sarah took a steadying breath; her hand pressed to her heart, "You scared me." Nothing felt real for Sarah since she'd answered that call, but she was eternally grateful that Aisha had thought to warn them.

Smiling sheepishly, Heather apologized and placed a hand on Sarah's arm. "You've been up here since before the sun set. Your dinner's gotten cold."

"I'm not hungry." Sarah folded her arms over her chest, turning back to watch the empty boatyard for signs of Aisha's arrival.
I don't know if I'll ever be hungry again.

Only twenty-four hours earlier, she'd been trying to convince her friends she wasn't joking and now everyone was in full-on survival mode. They'd refused to believe her at first - that was until Carmen, who lived on the west side of Houston, confirmed Aisha's story via texts with image attachments; within the hour, they were packed and ready to leave. During the hour drive to Galveston, Carmen shared what she'd seen and what they were dealing with. For her, it had started with explosions lighting the horizon, then the ragged people staggering down the streets. Finally she shared how she'd seen them attack; how ignorant people went out into the street to help, and in return were torn apart.

"The guys should be back by now," Heather said, referring to Tomos and Quinn. They'd volunteered to pick up a few last minute supplies in Galveston while the group waited for Aisha's arrival.

"Maybe they got caught up in the mayhem." An uneasy feeling settled into the pit of Sarah's stomach. "The sirens have been going non-stop for the past few hours."

"I still can't believe this is happening." Beside Sarah, Heather shivered. "Just yesterday Curt and I were cuddled up on the couch, watching a zombie movie and laughing at the absurdity of it."

Sarah and Carmen, along with Tomos and Quinn, had shown up on Heather and Curt's doorstep, telling their irritated friends about the horrible things they'd heard on the radio as they'd left the city. Before they were finished telling their story in its entirety, Curt was on his feet packing, while on the phone warning others. His plan was to get to his one-hundred foot fishing trawler, A-Fishy-Nado, and head out for the open water of the Gulf, believing they'd be safe far away from land. Still disbelieving, Heather didn't want to hear any of it - even after Carmen took out her phone and showed her the proof. Sarah still wasn't entirely sure that Heather believed the dead were rising and eating the living.

"It's not so funny now." Sarah shivered despite the night's warmth. Lights flashed in the boatyard and she heard the distant sound of an engine drawing closer. "Please let it be Aisha," she whispered beneath her breath.

Heather turned away from the rails, "I'll go tell Curt that Tomos and Quinn are back. He can get the engine started and we'll be ready to leave by the time they arrive and unload."

"Wait." Sarah grabbed Heather's arm; Heather glanced back at her with a look of sympathy. "What if it's Aisha? We can't leave yet."

Heather slowly shook her head. "I'd recognize the sound of Tomos' car anywhere." She wrapped her arm around Sarah's shoulder, pulling her in for an embrace. "I'm sorry but we can't wait for Aisha any longer. She's had a full day to get to us, and as much as I don't want to say it, she may never make it no matter how long we wait."

"Don't say that," Sarah sobbed, knowing in her heart that if her BFF had been able to get south, out of Houston, that she would have arrived already.

"Maybe she couldn't get across the bridge." Heather offered the alternative in an effort to comfort Sarah. "Maybe the roads were too jammed up with traffic and she decided to head north instead."

Sarah nodded, swiping her arm across her tear-streaked face. "Maybe."

Headlights suddenly illuminated the women; they both turned as a car fishtailed off the paved road and onto the dirt road of the parking lot. It skidded to a halt at the bottom of the gangplank and the door flew open. Quinn spilled out of the driver's side and clumsily ran around to the passenger side door. "Get Curt," he panted, "I need help getting Tomos onto the boat."

"What happened?" Sarah asked, leaning over the rail. Behind her, Heather dashed for the stairs that lead up to the boat's bridge where Curt was performing the final checks.

"We ran into a crowd of people with the same idea as us." Quinn jerked the passenger door open, catching the lump that sagged out. "A fight broke out over the remaining water bottles and Tomos got beat up pretty bad. What we managed to get is in the trunk." He grunted as he propped the lump against the side of the car. "Can you help unload it while I check out Tomos?" Sarah nodded, hurrying down the gangplank to the rear of the car; Quinn kept talking. "While everyone was throwing punches at one another, a group of those things joined the fray and then things got really interesting."

"You saw them in Galveston?" Sarah gasped as she pulled out several bags packed with supplies. She glanced over her shoulder, suddenly convinced that zombies were creeping up behind her, but the immediate area was still and silent.

"Yeah," Quinn said, coming around to the trunk and helping Sarah lift out the three large water jugs, "we saw masses of those things crossing the causeway on our way back." For the first time, Sarah noticed Quinn's swollen and red cheek.

She was about to ask who'd hit him when Curt's deep voice boomed from the deck of the boat. "What were you doing all the way over there?" Sarah wondered the same thing.

Quinn looked up, and sighed. "Most of the stores have been cleaned out already. We had a hard time finding water and Tomos knew of a place over on Harborside Drive, so we went to check it out." He shook his head, "it was a bad call on our part - we almost didn't make it back."

"Other than being beat up, did either of you come into close contact with those things?" Curt now stood over Tomos, looking down at him with cool detachment.

Not liking the calculating look, Sarah went to Tomos' side, checking for any wounds that weren't from the fight. He was badly beaten and blood covered most of his face, but she guessed most of it was from the gashes on his head.

"If you're wondering if he got bitten by those things," Quinn snapped, "no, he didn't. He got hit over the head with a bottle, which is where I think most of the blood is coming from but I didn't see any of those things near him when I pulled him out of the pileup."

Curt scowled, muttering a curse. "He's my friend and I don't want to leave him here, but if he's been bitten, he's as good as dead and bringing him aboard will only put the rest of us in danger."

Quinn grabbed Curt by the front of his shirt, pulling him close so they were standing nose to nose. "He's just beat up; we're not leaving him." He growled, releasing Curt with a shove, "and besides, you have no clue about how this thing is spread. For all we know its air born and we're all infected."

Curt shook his head and Sarah found herself shaking hers as well. "Zombies one-o-one - if someone is bitten they'll become a zombie; it's just a matter of time."

Quinn barked out a harsh laugh, "and you're the expert on zombies now? Hollywood and real life are very different things my friend. We have no idea what is causing this or how it's transmitted."

"Now, now boys." Heather interjected; she turned to Curt, "We can't just leave him here babe; I've looked for bite marks and haven't found anything that even remotely looks like one. Tomos has just been beat up and badly - we need to get him inside so I can clean up his wounds." Curt began to protest but Heather simply held up her hand, silencing him. "If it will make you feel better, we can put him in the other stateroom and secure the door. I'm sure the rest of our friends won't mind sharing the other berths in the aft."

"Fine," Curt growled through clenched teeth, "all aboard."

As the others moved the supplies onto the boat, Sarah stood, watching intently for a sign that Aisha was close by - other than the distant sirens, everything was quiet. They'd all agreed that if Aisha wasn't there by the time the guys returned from the last minute supply run, they were outward bound without her. Now that the time was at hand, Sarah couldn't bring herself to leave. Maybe she could convince Curt to wait for another forty-five minutes. What could another hour possibly cost them?

"We can't wait Sarah," Curt said softly, from behind her.

"But what if she's almost here?"

"What ifs will only get you killed. Look at how fast this has already spread and tell me you want to risk waiting a little longer." Curt sighed, "We can no longer be who we were yesterday. When we found out about the zombies, our old lives were gone - lost forever. The world will never be the same again and if you want to survive, you'll have to accept that. Become someone whose number one priority is survival at any cost - even if it's at the cost of another; people too weak to realize that won't survive."

Sarah turned and smiled weakly at Curt, "how did you become the resident expert?"