Deadrise
For Gary... I started this for you little brother. I'm sorry you're not here to see it finished.
I miss you...
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
A lot of people helped me in a lot of ways during the writing of this book, both practically and inspirationally: Justin, Marc, Danny, Rick & Bozo, (the original Zombie Killers). Trev Poulson for the design work on the cover. The Zedhead's on the
www.homepageofthedead.com
forums for reading this monstrosity in its earliest incarnation and offering the much needed feedback and criticism that can only make a writer better. George A. Romero for creating this wonderful genre to begin with.
And finally, an extra special thank you to my wife Jill, and my daughter Autumn for tolerating my insanity and without whose love and support I am nothing...
DEADRISE
By Steven R. Gardner
Copyright © 2011 Steven R. Gardner
Kindle Edition
All Rights Reserved
www.stevenrgardner.blogspot.com
On Twitter @pugzombie
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or locales is entirely coincidental.
Cover Art © 2011 Trev Poulson
This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author...
Chapter 1
Wednesday, June 13 2001
Salt Lake City, UT
12:15 PM
As Zack sat there pondering their current situation, only two words came to mind.
"We’re fucked!"
He sat in the living room of his house, crouched low to the floor, peering out the front room window into the street. His eyes matched his scraggly brown hair, but the whites were shot red from lack of sleep. His handsome face was semi-clean shaven; the routine of a shave every couple of days was one of the things that kept Zack sane. He was wearing a pair of faded Levis, a casual pullover shirt and a pair of white Nikes. He cradled a sleek AR-15 assault rifle in his arms.
Crouched beside him on the floor was his longtime friend and roommate Matt. Matt stood an inch shorter and was twenty pounds heavier than Zack. His shoulder length dishwater blond hair framed a soft face and dark blue eyes. He wore brown cargo shorts and a faded Detroit Redwings hockey jersey. Matt also sported an AR-15 his hands.
Both their faces were twisted with nervous tension as they watched what transpired outside. Directly in front of their house, a pair of army Humvees had parked at an angle in the street, cutting off all potential traffic. The gunners atop the Humvees had their .50 caliber heavy machine gun trained on the house directly across the street. Zack had met those neighbors only a couple times… Clancy was their name. Three soldiers had climbed the stairs of the front porch and stood before the front door; two of them held their M-16 assault rifles at ready while the third spoke to a tall, grizzled redneck with beady eyes and a large brow that Zack recognized as Mr. Clancy.
"What do you think they are doing?" asked Matt.
"You saw the same news broadcast as me," said Zack. "They're relocating people."
"I can't believe the government let things get this bad. This far out of control…"
Matt's mind wandered back to just over ten months ago, to August of 2000 when a deadly new epidemic appeared in parts of Africa and Southeastern Europe. It was reported that the sickness, whatever its nature, was something completely new, and its kill ratio was one hundred percent. After just a few days, the U.S. Government had put a tight lid on news and video of the plague sights and all written reports were heavily censored in the name of national security. But the Internet proved too much to control and despite the US government's best efforts, news and video from the afflicted areas filtered in to the civilian population. Stories of plague victims going on homicidal rampages, killing anyone they came in contact with spread like wildfire. As the weeks passed, the situation grew much worse in Europe and Africa, resulting in an entire media blackout from those parts of the world. But again the ‘net was impossible to censor.
By late September reports of the plague began filtering up through Mexico. Several small border towns in southern California, Texas and Arizona became armed military bases, patrolled by land and air. All border crossings were halted. Even American citizens who had been south of the border were not allowed back into the country. Still the Government controlled media assured the American public that everything was OK and they were simply trying to control an outbreak of bird flu from spreading across the border. This was a minor incident… There was nothing to worry about…
Stories of the "Killer Plague" were now urban legend across America but despite the rumors and stories, the general population knew virtually nothing factual about the plague other than it was completely lethal.
November of 2000 is when things really began unraveling in the United States. Outbreaks of the plague appeared throughout southern Texas, California, New Mexico, and Arizona. As fast as the Army could quarantine one city, another outbreak occurred. Mass riots were widespread throughout the southwestern states. Colorado and Utah declared states of emergency and put forth martial law. All roads and highways leading into the states from the south were blocked, and no traffic permitted. Those attempting to pass were turned away by whatever force was necessary. On several occasions it had required lethal force.
Thanksgiving day, Los Angeles was the sight of the largest riot in American history. Thousands were killed, tens of thousands more injured. The city was declared a national disaster and all citizens were ordered to evacuate. The city was still burning two days later when the news from Los Angeles went dark. A week later there was no more news from the west coast.
The President of the United States declared a national emergency, suspended the Constitution and enacted a nationwide martial law, with a four p.m. curfew, effective immediately. The winter had been particularly heavy, but despite the snow and travel restrictions the plague continued to spread across the plains states to the east coast. Riots and looting followed it across the nation, which only added to the problem. Lawlessness was the order of the day. The global stock market had dissolved by the New Year and paper money wasn't worth the paper it was printed on. Washington DC fell in March of 2001, seven months after the first outbreak in Africa and only five months after the first reported case in the United States. The industrial machine ground to a shuddering halt. What states still had a local government tried vainly to take control, but with dwindling resources and manpower, it was too little too late.
Utah was one of the states that had managed to retain some central government, due in great part to the border closure in November. But the state remained under strict martial law. With society in ruins, citizens were forced to go to special relief stations at various points in the city for food, and medical help. The Internet and phone lines were down and the only station on the television and radio was the FEMA controlled Emergency Broadcast Station. And they kept repeating the same things over and over; Stay in your house…Cooperate with the authorities… And above all else, report any severe sicknesses or death immediately! Large covered trucks came through the neighborhood every 20 to 30 minutes. They collected the terminally ill and the dead.
The first week of June, they began going door-to-door forcibly relocating people to FEMA rescue stations…
Matt focused on the present, and the events unfolding outside. Mr. Clancy had grown agitated, and the two soldiers with weapons drawn begin to step foreword. Mr. Clancy acted as if to stop them when one clubbed him in the jaw with the butt of his rifle. He collapsed onto the porch landing.
The soldiers began to use their rifles to club Mr. Clancy across the head and chest. One of the soldiers paused, distracted by something in the house…
BOOM!
The top half of his head exploded from gunfire inside the house. His M-16 fired wildly as he fell off the porch. His bullets peppered the back of one of his companions, who flung his arms wide and sagged against the brick wall to the side of the door. The third soldier, standing on the porch landing, fired his rifle into the doorway on full automatic. After just a few seconds his clip ran dry and he stood there staring into the house, ignoring Mr. Clancy curled beneath him.
Mr. Clancy reared back and kicked him with both feet square in the chest, sending him tumbling backward off the porch to land heavily next to his dead comrade. Mr. Clancy rose to his knees, fumbling for one of the dead soldiers M-16, but he never stood a chance. Both gunners on the Humvees opened up with their .50 caliber machine guns. The heavy shells tore Mr. Clancy to hunks of bloody meat, throwing him back through the open doorway and out of sight. They turned their weapons from the porch to the front of the house, shattering the picture window in a shower of hot lead and spraying the interior for several long seconds.
The soldier that Clancy had kicked off the porch pulled himself to his feet and staggered to one of the Humvees where he fell into the passenger seat, his face a mask of pain. Both Humvees backed away from the curb and headed east up the street.
Zack's ears rang from the barrage of gunfire. His jaw hung open in shock, his eyes wide with disbelief. He looked to Matt only to find him staring back at him with that same dumbfounded gaze.
"They just shot the Clancy's." Matt said quietly, as if the gunmen outside might hear him.
"I don't believe it, We are screwed. We are totally fucked."
"They came to relocate him, just like they announced on the radio. The Clancy’s resisted so they killed them." Matt could have been talking to himself.
"They're going to come and relocate us as well."
"What the hell are we going to do?" Matt moved away from the window so as not to see the grisly sight in the Clancy’s front yard.
"We’re not going to resist, that's for sure. You saw what happened out there."
"I can't believe this." Matt shook his head in disbelief...
For the next half hour they chewed over what they had witnessed and what they're options were. Should they wait for the military to come relocate them, or should they seek out one of the rescue stations being broadcast over the radio? His gut a ball of tension, Matt paced the living room while they talked. Eventually he peered out the front window again and was surprised to see the soldier on the front porch had gotten up and stumbled down the stairs to the front lawn, where he seemed to wander aimlessly, his bullet riddled back to Matt.
"That soldier isn't dead,"
"What?" Zack moved over and parted the curtain to see. "My God! W saw him get shot!"
"I wonder if he was wearing body armor under his fatigues?"
When the soldiers drunken stagger turned him to face them, they could see large ragged holes in the front of his uniform from which dangled dark glistening coils of intestines that fell past his knees, still leaking blood and other bodily fluids onto the ground. His face was contorted and his eyes seemed to focus on nothing. The soldier staggered to the curb, stumbled and nearly fell before righting himself and stumbling into the street, arm's dangling at his side. The jostling of his movements caused his intestines to slip further from the wounds in his belly, and they now dragged across the pavement, threatening to become entangled in the soldier’s feet.
Neither of them could speak. They both just stared, mouths agape.
Movement from the Clancy’s front door caught their eye, and they watched Mr. Clancy stumble out onto the porch, his entire torso from groin to throat a chopped and bloody mess. What few intestines remained dangled from his gaping stomach cavity, rimmed with broken and shattered ribs. Blood covered every inch of his exposed skin, and his face had the same blank stare as the soldiers.