Authors: Brigit Levois
Breathless Bodies
BREATHLESS
BODIES
BRIGIT LEVOIS
AuthorHouse™
1663 Liberty Drive
Bloomington, IN 47403
Phone: 1 (800) 839-8640
©
2016 Brigit Levois. All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted by any means without the written permission of the author.
Published by AuthorHouse 01/27/2016
ISBN: 978-1-5049-7635-0 (sc)
ISBN: 978-1-5049-7610-7 (e)
Any people depicted in stock imagery provided by Thinkstock are models,
and such images are being used for illustrative purposes only.
Certain stock imagery © Thinkstock.
Because of the dynamic nature of the Internet, any web addresses or links contained in this book may have changed since publication and may no longer be valid. The views expressed in this work are solely those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the views of the publisher, and the publisher hereby disclaims any responsibility for them.
Contents
A very special thanks
To Michael Frost, lover of pandas and velociraptors (not in the same place or time though) for providing the name "Gunther" and the character "Michael". He was a great character with a big heart and vast courage. I regret having to kill him, but his selfless death saved the others. Thank you for the inspiration, and may Jessica continue to succeed.
To my mother and collaborator, for countless grammar corrections. There, they're, their; happy?
Nathan, without you, I could never have made this happen. Thank you my love.
And to everyone reading this, thank you for picking up this book and allowing me to lead you through the land of the undead. Enjoy!
I
kind of figured
this was how it was going to end; one can only stay alive for so long. I was lying in a meadow of grass, the breeze caressing my face and the sun warm on my body. My leg hurt, but that happens when you crash an RV. It was easy, in all honesty. I never thought dying would feel like this. It was the sense of carelessness which struck me more than anything, an unparalleled feeling of relief, that everything was okay again. As I lay there, I thought back on the last hours which had brought me here.
There are only a few of us left now, most having been eaten or turned. Half of us were back at base camp, waiting for our small party to return. I and a few others had gone out to restock our supplies, taken when the raiders came. While leaving the hospital with our acquisitions, I caught the familiar whiff of decay putting me instantly on edge. As I scanned the abandoned vehicles, I noticed others do the same.
"Alright everyone, keep your eyes open and be on your toes." My brother, of course, was listening to his mp3 player so he didn't hear me. I reached over and yanked out his earbuds.
"What the hell?" He shouted, glaring at me.
"Keep your damn voice down!" I hissed in low tones, "They're here, but I can't see them. Eyes and ears open!" He gave me a look that made me want to slap him sideways, but I decided to save it for later.
There were four of us on this adventure. My brother, Steven, who was a computer whiz in the old world but now was one of few decent mechanics left. There were Daniel and Scott, the teenagers my father-in-law coached soccer for. Daniel was always trying to lighten the mood and Scott rarely spoke. When he did, it was usually something important, such as "freeze!" This was actually what he said as we rounded a corner on the way back to our truck. He saw the man before we did. He was mangled, slanted, and almost green with decomposition. What would have once been a nice three-piece suit was tattered and falling off in places, his once-brown hair now sparsely covering his rotting skull. My brother, being the heroic and fearless man he was, screamed before turning tail. Yup, thanks Steve. The other two and I all drew our weapons, getting ready for some butt kicking as my brother took refuge in an abandoned school bus.
I shouted at him: "Get to the truck and get it started, we'll be there." He scrambled out of the other side of the bus and headed for the truck. We parked about half a block away so I didn't think he could get himself killed in that short amount of time. Assuming Steve would get there safely, we all faced the creature. He had been slowly coming towards us as I spoke to my brother but was now speeding up his pace to a fast lurch. I drew the katana I had belted to my hip, not really wanting to waste bullets on one walker. As he came closer, we started towards him. Sometimes I wished I could understand what was going through their heads. Probably something along the lines of "Uuuhhhhh" or "Ghuuuuhh" or some variation thereof. Jeez, I'm losing it, I thought to myself as I walked towards him. A clean slice through his neck and he collapsed at my feet.
"Well, that was easy" said Daniel. The two of us let out a small chuckle as we gathered what we had dropped. As we started to make our way to the bus, another bone bag came around the back of it. Without breaking stride, Daniel unhooked the hatchet at his belt and chopped his head like dry kindling. We stepped over the body, then turned around and ran.
Following that one were more of his kind, rotting and peeling. Must have been about a dozen. What drew them in? Then I heard it, the sound of the truck trying to turn over. Damn my brother for not listening, I told him to make sure he fixed it. I swore to myself that if we got out of this alive I was going to kill him myself.
The others had already found defensive positions above the reach of the dead things. I ran to the closest fire escape and started to climb. I reached the first platform seconds before they would have had my ankle. As I ascended the ladder, so did they. We had never seen them this fast, or able to climb. But then again, when you're low on food, you move a little quicker.
Some were in better condition than others making it easier for them to keep up before the decay kicked in. I was about three stories up before I could see the rest of the company. My brother had the hood up and was fiddling with the battery, unable to see the one man slowly hobbling towards him. Scott was closer to my brother than I. He lifted his rifle and took aim. He was an amazing marksman so all it took was one shot and down it went.
My brother finished tinkering under the hood and tried to start the truck. By the time he had it started, I was on the roof and the others were making their way to the truck. I had to make it from the roof I was on to the one next to the bus, then onto the bus, halfway down the block and into the truck. Well, I thought, sure glad there's no fences or dogs. I adjusted my backpack and made certain that both gun and sword were situated. Before I took my first step, I heard the dead start to make it over the edge.
"Well now, today has been a bit too serious for me, I think I'll have some fun." I said as I approached. The decaying thing looked at me like a turkey drumstick while I sauntered to him. He didn't quite have the strength to pull himself up, so I squatted just out of his reach.
"You know, for only having one foot, you sure kept up with me. I gotta give it to you, your determination is unparalleled, but you're sloppy." As I spoke, I took a sparkler out of my belt along with a simple M80. Duct taping them together, I finished my pep talk.
"If you could just learn to be a bit quieter, you would be much more efficient. But, I can see how it would be hard for someone of your...condition... to be light-footed" I started to laugh as I finished wrapping the fire work. I always kept beef jerky on me for occasions such as this. They love the smell of meat. I shoved it in between the two, lit the sparkler and tossed it to the thing. He almost caught it, scrambling to pick it up and eat it whole. Damn, they're stupid. But then again, you can't expect too much from a zombie. Stepping to the edge of the building, prepping myself for the task ahead, I looked over just in time to see his head explode and body go limp. I ran for my jump with the biggest grin in weeks.
While my body flew over the first gap in the buildings, I thought of the past few months and how things had changed so much. I landed and rolled, sprinting to the bus roof. I could hardly believe that almost everyone I knew was either dead or on their way to it. I jumped off the building and almost missed the bus. I stood on the roof and saw a bird soaring across the sunset, things almost felt normal - for a second.
"Alex! Come on! We gotta go now!" Ahh, my brother and his impeccable timing. I hopped down off the bus, just in time to see another putrid puss sack coming around the back of it. He was going slowly, so I figured I'd give everyone a small show. There was a sharpened hubcap someone had made to my left, a tire iron to my right. I asked my brother, "Alright, viewer's choice! Decapitation or head bashing?" My brother didn't agree with my love of killing the walking carrion.
"Let's just go, please!" He was sitting behind the wheel with terrified eyes. I felt bad, but only for a second. I yelled at him
"They all have to die. If we leave any alive then that's one more we have to look out for! We can't afford anything less." With a determined hand, I grabbed the hubcap and took aim. Too easy, I thought. It flew easily and it slid through the weak, rotted skin around the neck. He stopped for a second, and then his head slowly slid off his shoulders. I jumped into the bed of the truck as the others climbed into the cab, took hold of the large machine gun that was mounted on the roof, and looked for anything I could shoot.
My brother threw the truck in gear and we tore down the boulevard. As Patrick drove, I looked at all the shops that had once been filled with window displays and happy shoppers. We passed the bandstand with a play area for children or inebriated patrons from the bar next door. I had the urge to ask Steven to stop so we could play on the monkey bars. But then I remembered we weren't safe, that we had to get back to the mountains before sundown.
When we hit the highway I locked the gun and sat down in the bed among the boxes and bags. Taking out my wallet, I looked at the torn and tattered picture of my kids and husband. We were happy, all smiling on the beach. I felt the familiar sense of inconsolable loss. I didn't know where they were, if they were alive or dead, or worse. The children had been taken captive by the raiders, my husband had gone after them. That was two weeks ago.
As we grew closer to the mountains, I covered myself with a tarp and drifted off into a fitful sleep, dreaming of a time before this, a time we didn't have to watch out for the decomposing bone bag cannibals that followed us everywhere. I dreamt I was in my own room, in my own house, warm and lying next to Sean while he held me tight. It was a time before the kids, back when we were still intoxicated with each other, in the first stages of love. He nuzzled my neck and I felt the familiar tightening all over my body, an aching need to kiss him. I tried to pull his head up to get to his lips, but he wouldn't leave my neck. He started to lick the hollow behind my ear. Working his way to the muscle between my neck and shoulder, Sean started to nibble. Then he bit me, drawing blood, and I woke in a cold sweat.
The truck had stopped while I had slept and dreamed. I heard the dinging sound signaling an open door. My stomach clenched in terror as I uncovered myself and sat up to see some of my companions lurching grotesquely in the setting sun. A glance at the cab showed trails of blood and gobbets of flesh. Taking a sobbing breath, I scanned the immediate area, holding out some faint damning hope that my brother had managed to survive. But that was unlikely. Standing up now, I looked towards the front of the truck and saw Steven chewing on Scott's small intestine. Tears blurring my vision, I slowly unlocked the big gun and aimed at him.
"Steven, I'm so sorry. I told you, stop for nothing." As I spoke, he looked at me with no sign that it was still him, still my brother. There were about ten of them all together, so I inhaled and opened fire. My brother's head looked like a watermelon that had an ounce of C4 in it, the rest of them were simply peripheral targets. I was screaming, tears running down my face when I ran out of rounds.
Collapsing into the bed of the truck, sobbing for everyone that was lost, it could have been an hour or a few minutes before I was able to compose myself. Hopping down, I dislodged an arm clinging to the passenger side door, tossing it into the carnage. Starting the truck to drive towards the camp, I wished things were different, that this was all a horrible nightmare. But I had thought that many times before, and each time I the nightmare continued.
I got to the mountain about midnight and pulled up next to the massive RV wondering how I would tell everyone that I was the only one left. Turning off the truck, I rested my head against the wheel. The door opened and comforting arms wrap around me. I had started shaking at some point, trying to keep the panic from escaping and taking over. It didn't work. I collapsed into a sobbing shaking mess in Malcolm's arms. My brother was dead. Daniel was dead. Scott was dead. And I was alive. It wasn't fair.
I cried until my throat hurt and no more tears would come, then began retching. We hadn't eaten all day so there was nothing to come up. Malcolm dragged me out of the truck and helped me kneel, holding my hair. I started throwing up stomach acid, gasping for air. When the panic finally subsided I wiped my face with my shirt and looked up. Malcolm just knelt there next to me with one hand on my shoulder.
"I take it things went bad." He said in a compassionate tone. I nodded my head, sniffing loudly.
"Well, let's get you some water and all cleaned up." He helped me to stand up and walk over the to the makeshift watershed we had built. It was at the bottom of a small stream that wound up and down the camp, making fresh water accessible. The door opened into a wash room, with a hole in the floor to lower and raise a bucket to the basin. The shed went down river another six feet and there was another room that housed the toilet. It wasn't much, but it was sanitary.
Leaving the door open to let the moonlight in, Malcolm sat me on the counter and brought up a bucket of clear, cold water. Taking a washrag off the rack, he dipped it in. While he rung it out, I noticed that his hands were shaking. Without thinking I reached for his hand, touching it lightly. He froze for a moment, then used the rag to gently wash the dirt off of my hand. He dipped it in the water again and continued up my arm. As he got to my neck, I felt his hand tremble. I looked at him.
"Why are you shaking?" I asked him. He sighed.
"I was worried that you wouldn't come back from this trip. Alex, I-" There was the crunch of dirt behind the shed. We froze, waiting to hear the sound again. There it was, the snapping of a twig, then a moan and we knew what it was. Malcolm pulled out his long knife as I drew my gun. He peeked out and around the shed with me moving close behind him. Malcolm turned to the right and paused, paralyzing me instantly. He motioned for us to back up into the shed - quietly. As soon as we were both inside he shut the door without a whisper of sound.
"What's out there?" I asked. I already knew though.
"Them." He said He turned and looked at me. In the dark of the room I couldn't see him clearly, but his tension was unmistakable. Unable to stop myself, I asked.
"Malcolm. How many?" He stood motionless for a bit then dropped his head and sighed.
"Too many." Those were the words I was most afraid to hear. Allot, enough, a bunch, I would have taken any of those, but not 'too many'.
"What do you want me to do Alex?" I could feel his winter blue eyes on me, expecting an escape plan or something to save us. I had nothing. Sighing, I hunched my shoulders and thought. He hugged me to him and pressed the washcloth to my neck. Oh that felt so nice and cool.
"Wait, that's it." I whispered. I went to the hole for the bucket and pulled on a board. It came loose with only a few tugs. I jumped up and grabbed Malcolm.