Humanity's Death: A Zombie Epic (2 page)

She swirled quickly to avoid hitting them, and
lost control. Steam gushed from the engine when it crashed into a
tree. The air bag deployed, and Candy’s head snapped back. Jack
heard the girls screaming in the back seat.

Andrew didn’t hesitate; he slammed straight
through a gang of zombies. Their bodies crunched under the jacked
up suspension of the truck. “I told you it would come in handy one
day!” He said.

A hoard of around ten or so dead folks lurked
towards Candy’s position. She’d crawled out of the cruiser, and lay
on her knees on the edge of some grass that connected to a side
walk; her daughters still screaming in the back. Andrew brought the
Humvee to a screeching halt beside his sister’s position.

The dead were only a few feet away.

Jack jumped out of the Humvee to help her, but
no help was needed. Before the pitiful dead bastards had the chance
to taste her pale white, freckled flesh, her revolver reported.
Jack smiled with wild, adrenaline induced excitement as the heads
of the dead exploded, painting the asphalt with gray and bloody
brain matter.

He'd never seen a head explode in real life. It
was as though a small bomb went off in their heads, cracking open
their skulls, and erupting blood, brain, and skull fragments from
the exit wound.

Steam and smoke was coming from under the hood
of the engine. Jack and Andrew were out of the Humvee; Candy was
opening the back door. The girls, their blonde pigtails bouncing,
leaped out of the cruiser. “Get em in the Hummer! I gotta grab some
shit!” She said.

Jack helped the girls into the Hummer's huge,
gray leather back seats. Andrew was at the cruiser with Candy
helping her grab the riot shot gun, along with a huge black bag of
ammunition and assorted rifles. On the side of the bag, written in
large gold stenciled letters: Sheriff’s DEPArtment

“Jody’s already there, and he says it ain’t
pretty!” Candy said as her and Andrew rushed back over to the
Hummer. Her red hair was in a wild disarray, her blue eyes glaring
with adrenaline. Around them, the world screamed with death.

Andrew jumped into the driver's seat, and pulled
the trunk latch; Candy threw the guns and ammo in, and slammed the
hatched closed. She then climbed in the back with her girls,
slammed the door.

“We set?” Andrew asked.

“Hit it!” Candy said.

Jack was watching the pandemonium as Andrew sped
around crashed cars, running people, and the stumbling dead, whose
flaying arms thudded against the vehicles hard exterior, and
snapped off with bloody precision as they attempted to reach for
the bodies inside, clearly not knowing that their attempts were
futile.

This time the cars didn't yield for them, but
this was Andrew's chance to show the world why he paid so much
money to make his Hummer look like a Transformer, or some kind of
modern dinosaur. The Hummer jumped over concrete curbing, tore
through bushes, and drove through parking lots.

Ahead, the nursing home came into view and
Jack's stomach turned.

He knew hell awaited, but what he saw almost
caused him to announce Papa and Jody dead on arrival. Streaming out
of the nursing home from a hospital across the street were hundreds
of growling recently risen nurses, doctors, patients, kids, oh
my.

Then he saw them. “There they are!” Jack
shouted.

Miraculously, Jody stood beside papa’s wheel
chair firing loud buck shots through the brains of the charging
dead. Beside Jody, brandishing a sawed off shot gun (presumably
given to him by Jody, it was hardly an item the Calm Waters Nursing
facility allowed), was Papa screaming obscenities and firing at the
mob of death. They were completely cornered at the back entrance of
the nursing facility. How, in the name of Jesus and Lucifer they'd
accomplished this incredible feat of survival, was beyond Jack's
imagination—at least at that moment.

The Hummer stopped about twenty yards from the
hungry crowd.

Andrew turned and shouted, “In the back!”

“Girls, you stay right here and don't move!”

The just stared at their mother and nodded,
scared out of their wits.

Jack opened
the trunk, and before him sat a collection of AR-15s, Ak-47s, and
tactical vests already filled with extra magazines. This didn't
include the bag of ammo Candy had thrown in.
God bless
rednecks
, is all Jack
could think.

He strapped
on a vest, and grabbed an AR, pushed its stock against his
shoulder, pointed the barrel in front of him, and moved
strategically around the Humvee.
God bless video games
, he now thought. He'd only shot large
rifles at the firing range a few times. But it was like the insane
Virginia Tech shooter (who'd never actually had any training); when
a person plays the scenario over and over in their head (or in a
video game) the actions become internalized as though the person
were actually doing it. The brain, by golly, is an incredible piece
of bioengineering, rather by God or Nature, the choice is yours to
make.

“Cover us, Drew!” Jack said.

Andrew jumped on the roof of the Humvee and
started firing. Jack and Candy moved in perfect harmony, taking
care not to waste one bullet. The bang of their rifles filled the
air and the dead dropped to the ground, this time for good. Jack's
aim wasn't quite as good as Candy's, but he was warming up fast.
The world around him came as sharp and clean as high definition
television picture.

The sound caught the hordes attention and gave
Papa and Jody breathing room; half the mob was headed for Jack and
Candy. Jack's rifle rattled in his hands as he pulled the
semi-automatic trigger over and over. He dropped magazine after
magazine, inching his way towards his grandfather. Fear didn’t
exist in that moment, only the determination to live.

He stepped over and around bodies carefully. The
stench nearly gagging him. Had he had the time to analyze the
enormity what was happening around him, he surely would have gone
mad. The mind, however, compartmentalizes trauma in a way that
allows humans to perform under extreme circumstances; the trauma
only reemerging later in life in the form of post-traumatic
stress.

Jack and Candy finally reached Jody and Papa.
Across the street, Jack saw a fresh horde forming, making their way
towards them. Yes, the day was developing into a serious shit free
for all. What in Christ's name was happening?

His mind pushed it away, stowing it neatly
somewhere down in the subconscious.

Papa saw them, “Carry me boy!”

Jody hoisted him over his shoulders, Jack
carried his wheel chair, and Candy covered their movements as they
made their way over the bodies, back to the Humvee.

4

Andrew shut the engine off and guided them to the
embankment. Jack jumped out of the boat and carefully made his way
through dense woodland, eventually reaching the dead end of an old
dirt road. Camouflaged just off the road, the Humvee waited, gassed
and ready.

Driving down that old dusty dirt road, he
noticed something out in the woods. A dim shack, with soft gray
smoke coming from a wood stove chimney pipe at the top.

“Stop.” Jack said.

The hummer slowed to a halt. An ominous and
strange feeling spread over him like the coming of a storm. Had he
seen this shack before? Surely not. How many times had he been down
this road? This dark and lonely road. Yet, he'd never seen it. He
was sure of it. He asked the others and they too agreed. It was as
though some force had wanted to keep them from seeing it. At least
that’s the thought that went through Jack's head while he stared
out at the rising smoke. The thick trees simply kept him from
seeing it, that was it. The occupant must use the fire only on rare
occasions. Or maybe the occupant just now set up shop there. All he
knew for sure was that something didn't feel right. A shadowy
darkness existed in those trees, and something sinister festered,
waiting (wanting?) to be found. The smoke was a signal. Come and
see what evils await dear friends, here at the world's ending. Jack
didn't like the idea of precognition. He didn't believe in all that
superstitious stuff. Yet, the dead now walked. And, although he'd
never seen a ghost, the stories flooded the air waves while the
world still had air waves. A ghost didn't light the fire that made
that smoke though. The dark and tepid evils of the world don't come
from the spiritual realm; they exist right here in the physical
world. He knew this from all the history courses he took. The
Hitlers and Stalins of the world didn't need supernatural powers to
commit mass murder. Neither did the Ted Bundys or the Zodiacs.

Jody and Andrew stayed back with the Humvee,
just in case of a needed fast escape. Jack and Candy moved
cautiously through the trees. The ground wasn’t quite as damp and
mushy this far inland; but the trees still created a thick, shadowy
darkness, even this close to ten in the morning. The shack sat in a
round clearing; he still couldn’t believe he never noticed it
before. But there it sat, raggedy and worn from time, like his
grandfather’s ancient, flaky skin. He gave Candy a look, and she
removed her revolver.

5

The door was peeled gray paint, with brown, rotted
oak showing through. It was ajar; so Jack pushed it open with the
barrel of his AR.

The door opened slowly with a long and drawn out
CREEEAK. Jack nearly puked. The smell came out and gushed up his
nostrils. There sat a man. Sitting there in a pile of bones, and
old newspaper cut outs. Every inch of the wall was covered in
newspaper headlines.

THE DEAD ARE RISING

BOARD UP YOUR HOMES STAY INSIDE

DON’T GET CLOSE TO BITE VICTIMS, EVEN IF IT’S
YOUR FAMILY

The man sat cross legged on the floor, muttering
to himself; then his head turned up and looked Jack dead in the
eye. “Have you come to take me away?”

His eyes were black and void of anything other
than pitch blackness.

“What’s the smell, fella?” Candy asked. She’d
aimed her cross hairs right on his forehead.

“Jesus said to love all the children. But, you
know… those preachers never could get inside my head. I never
listened.” the man said.

A small black wood oven sat in a corner, the
chimney pipe jutting out from the top. Beside it sat a red and
white cooler with blood splattered on the white sections.

“What am I going to find inside the cooler?”
Jack asked, already assuming the answer.

A wide smile crossed the man's face. “Jesus
loves all the children… all the children of the world… red and
yellow, black and white… Jesus loves all the fucking children!” He
rolled onto his back screaming wildly.

“Jesus loves them! I sent them home!”

“Watch him.” Jack said.

Candy moved stealthily up to him, and gripped
his collar, pressing her revolver firmly against his temple. “If
what I thinks in that cooler, buddy, it aint god that’s gonna send
your brains flying.” She said.

Jack moved over to the cooler, and with his
rifle’s barrel, tipped the top open. “Jesus!” Jack put his hand
against his mouth like he might vomit.

Inside were four little heads. Each one had a
bloody engraving, from left to right, reading: Red, Yellow, Black,
White.

Candy looked Jack in the eye. Then looked down
at the man. “You sick son a bitch!” She kicked him over, and
pummeled him with harsh rib kicks. He screamed in something that
sounded like a preacher speaking tongues. Then her gun rose, and
screamed a shot through his temple. The blood splattered over the
newspapers, and splashed against the exposed wood.

Jack kicked over the wood stove. “Let it burn.
Let it all burn. Only the ashes and our memories will ever know
this existed.”

6

It was an eerie feeling sitting in that passenger
seat, peering out, and seeing the smoke rise from the woods behind;
and all around, the empty roads, buildings, and homes mocked Jack's
humanity; and challenged his decency and sanity. This couldn’t be
all that was left of the world he once loved. All that remained of
humanity’s greatness. He refused to believe that.

There wasn’t a lot of zombies roaming, only a
few here and there. Warm wind blew his black hair back through the
lowered window; and Andrew played with the radio.

"You really expect to hear something other than
static?” Jack asked.

“You never know. May be someone is
broadcasting.” He said.

Then the crackle cut off, and in its place a
voice came through the speakers.

“Shit! What’d I tell you?”

A man spoke in a deep and powerful voice. “My
name is Duras—leader of the Godly Knights! If you here this
message, know that God almighty has sent this judgment onto us.
Know that the Godly Knights now patrol in His holy name. We will
bring His justice to these streets. Anyone still breathing must
join us. If you oppose, accept your demise!”

The voice continued over and over, in a
prerecorded anthem.

“Godly Knights? Jesus fucking Christ. I wonder
how many men they have recruited.” Jack said.

Candy spoke up from the back, “More than we
have, that’s for sure.”

The smell of rotting plant life slowly faded
into the distance as the Humvee rolled onto a stretch of road.
Country homes, some with huge man made ponds existed on either side
of the two lane path. Over grown grass in each yard reached towards
the sky as if to beg for the former prestige each home once
boasted. No doubt, only a short time ago, spoiled rich children ran
and jumped into those pond size swimming pools.

As the homes disappeared into a blur of green;
just ahead of them, they saw large wooden polls dug into the earth.
Jody let out an astonished whistle; and Andrew slowed the vehicle
enough so they could all get a good view. Dead bodies dangled from
their necks; and signs hung from the sun cooked bodies.