Zombie Rules
Authors: David Achord
By David Achord
This book is a work of fiction. Names and characters are fictitious, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
© 2013 David Achord. All rights reserved.
Also by David Achord: Z14
Table of Contents
Chapter 2 – Two Years Ago in Sophomore Hell
Chapter 4 - The Worst Day of My Life
Chapter 7 - The Death of a Thug
Chapter 10 - A Trek In To Franklin
Chapter 13 - Houseguests and Fish
Chapter 14 - The Death of Righteousness
Chapter 16 - A Reunion of Sorts
Chapter 19 - Learning to Share
Chapter 20 – Betrayal at the Bridge
Chapter 21 - There Is No Redemption
Chapter 25 - A Reunion on Sidco Drive
Chapter 34 – Rooftop Purgatory
Chapter 36 – Reunited and it Feels so Good?
Chapter 37 – A Man to Man Talk
Chapter 39 - Starry Starry Night
Chapter 40 – Back to the Present
I stood on the second floor balcony of the library, overlooking the smoldering remains of books and the overturned shelves. Soot stained ceiling tiles told a tale of a fire which did not completely take. Nevertheless, the damage was done. Many books had survived, but they had sustained extensive smoke and water damage. Amazingly, the fire retardant system still had a little pressure left in it. The water was flowing out of the sprinkler heads at a trickle now. Tendrils of smoke were still emanating here and there. This had been set recently, within an hour. There were other acts of vandalism as well. Most of the windows were broken, and obscene graffiti had been painted maliciously on the walls of a facility which had existed only to educate.
Heathens. It is the noun I use to describe them. Somehow, many of them had survived when so many good people had died. They roamed in gangs of various numbers, leaving a trail of ruin in their wake. They had little regard for rebuilding society, bent only on their own shortsighted, destructive desires. There was nothing for me here.
Since the infection outbreak, my visits to the Nashville area were infrequent. The urban areas, densely populated back when society was normal and functional, were now populated with the infected.
My thoughts were interrupted when I heard angry yelling. It was not inhuman in origin, definitely human. My survival instincts warned me against it, but I was curious. I surreptitiously exited the library through a side door. The muffled voices were now more succinct, and I could discern the direction. I crept south along Edmondson Pike toward the sounds. I scanned the area warily as I walked, hugging the abandoned cars for cover. I did not have to go far.
There were three of them. I used my rifle scope to get a good look at them. Two of them were rough looking men. The third one was a young girl with long dark hair. One of the men, a tall lanky man with rounded shoulders, was loudly berating the girl, and as I watched, hit her with a stinging backhanded slap. She fell to the ground. The other one, a shorter, dirtier version of his friend, laughed loudly. Both of them had beards with some kind of beads braided in them. It looked stupid. The tall one then began kicking the girl. Not hard kicks which would have broken ribs, but softer kicks. Kicks intended more for debasement and humiliation.
I crouched beside an overturned car and rested my rifle on one of the flattened tires. About the time I got sighted in, the tall one picked up the girl by the scruff of her neck and gruffly yanked her pants down.
Correction, did I say girl? With the aid of my scope, I could see other things. Nope, definitely not a girl. He was skinny as a rail. It was difficult to determine his age, maybe eleven or twelve.
I made a decision. Kill the bastards. They were bullies. I had a special dark place in my heart towards bullies. They had been passing a whiskey bottle back and forth while bullying the little boy. The short one took a long pull from it and laughed gleefully when his friend yanked the kid’s pants down.
I scanned the area with my scope, then took my eye off of them for a moment and did another quick check of my surroundings. Paranoia was a positive character trait in this day and age. I did not want to be ambushed from behind. When I looked at them again, big and ugly now had his captive bent over the lowered tailgate of a truck and had his own pants down. He had no idea I was watching him as he started brutally sodomizing the boy. Disgusting.
His body was gyrating fervidly, too much for a clean head shot. So, I put the crosshairs at the center of his shoulder blades, took a slow breath, exhaled, and gently squeezed the trigger. If I had made it past the tenth grade, I could probably give you a nice graphic description of the destruction the boat-tail hollow point bullet caused, every action book I’ve ever read does it, but I won’t bother. I think you get the idea.
After shooting the first one, bully number two stood there looking dumbfounded. His alcohol sodden brain was slow to process what had happened. I worked the action of my Winchester and fired again. The whiskey bottle fell out of his hand and shattered on the ground.
I didn’t have to worry about being arrested. This was the way of the world these days. What a way to celebrate my eighteenth birthday.
I was in love. You know the kind of love. Teenage, goo-goo eyed puppy love. It was exhilarating. It was excruciating. The emotion occupied my every waking thought and even my dreams. Hell, it occupied my mind even while I took my morning crap.
I was currently sitting in history class, casting glances at the object of my adoration, when I was broken out of my reverie by Ms. Snotgrass, my teacher. The teacher from hell I might add.
“Zachariah Gunderson, are you paying attention?” That’s me. Zachariah Gunderson. Currently stuck in sophomore hell. Imprisoned eight hours a day in a worn out public high school. The popular opinion is it should have been burned down years ago. The teacher’s name is actually Snodgrass, an old Nashville family name, but she had such a snotty attitude all the students called her Snotgrass, behind her back of course.
I looked up at her. She was short and very stout, like a bulging beer keg. She was possibly around forty-five-years-old, but she looked at least ten years older. She was currently glaring at me over a pair of dirty bifocals.
“Oh, yes ma’am. I’m here.” A couple of my friends chuckled. I grinned and looked over at Macie. She glanced at me without expression and turned her attention back to her text book.
Macie Kingsley was her name. She had long blonde hair, hazel green eyes, perfect white teeth, and nice teenage curves. She was on the varsity cheerleading team and very popular. I was on the track team. We had been dating for almost three months, and Saturday night, yeah just two days ago, she finally let me.
You know what I mean. We made love. Engaged in intimate relations. Fucked like bunnies.
Saturday was our three month anniversary, and I wanted it to be special. Macie told me to surprise her. I opted for a romantic moonlit picnic, and it had to be perfect. I planned it out with the tenacity of General von Steuben.
I picked out a remote area overlooking a brook which bordered one side of the farm I worked at. It had a beautiful view overlooking a valley. I spent all afternoon setting up Tiki torches, laying out blankets, and preparing a fire. My Grandmother fixed veggie wraps, and Rick was kind enough to purchase a bottle of wine for us.
As the sun set, I lit the fire, opened the wine, and told her how I felt about her. If it were a movie, the audience would have been laughing at my awkwardness. Nevertheless, Macie responded by telling me she loved me as well. I lost my virginity under a harvest moon on a balmy Saturday night.
It was the happiest I had ever been.
The memories were causing me to become distracted, and aroused. That is, until Ms. Snotgrass once again interrupted my thoughts. “Well then, would you please tell the class what is the first National monument of the United States, hmmmm?”
The class was quiet now. The old fat ass was infamous for asking innocuous history questions to students whom she felt were not applying themselves. If you missed it, which everyone always did, she punished you with extra homework. Not merely reading an extra chapter and answering those damned questions at the end. Hell, you had to write an essay paper to go along with it. She looked at me pointedly, coldly. A hint of a sneer was forming at the corner of her mouth.
“Easy, Devils Tower, and there is no apostrophe between the l and the s. And, it is not to be confused with the first National Park, which is Yellowstone.” I responded nonchalantly and looked over at Macie again for an acknowledgement. No response.
Snotty was not finished with me. “Very astute, or you are just very lucky. But please continue Mr. Gunderson. Why don’t you amaze the class with your brilliant intellect? Tell us more.”
“Must I? I mean, I answered your silly question.” This time only one of my friends laughed, but it was more like a low chuckle which died quickly. All eyes were on Snotty now. She was a vindictive, petty woman. You know the type. Every school has at least one. She was one of those teachers who basked in the glow of power over her students, knowing that with her tenure the school administration could do very little to rebuke her antics. A bully.
“Well then, perhaps you’d like to spend the rest of the week in detention, hmmm?” She made a hand gesture at me. She wanted me to stand, to better shame me in front of the class. I had another idea.
I sighed and stood. “Very well.” I inhaled. “The Devils Tower is an igneous outcropping of rock located in the state of Wyoming. Its elevation is about 1,200 feet high give or take, and is believed to be either the product of eroded laccolith or the plug of an extinct volcano. The name originated as a result of the misinterpretation of a name the indigent Native Americans had given it. President Theodore Roosevelt, a staunch Republican by the way, dedicated it as the nation’s first monument in 1907. The President is the only person who has the authority to establish a national monument, and it is generally done through the act of an executive order. There are currently one hundred and four protected areas with the title of national monument…”
“That will be quite enough Gunderson. Sit down.” Snotty tilted her head down so she could properly shoot daggers at me over those ridiculous bifocals, but it did not stop the class from applauding. Macie was not clapping, just looking at me oddly. The bell rang and I hurried for the door before Snotty thought of some form of vindictive revenge.
I waited for Macie in the hallway. “Hey.” I said to her as she exited the class. I tried to sneak in a quick kiss but she turned her head adeptly. My lips caught a passing glimpse of her cheek.
“Not here.” She whispered curtly. People passed by me patting me on the back and congratulating me over my very small triumph.
I walked along with Macie and Felix soon joined us. He was my best friend. “Man, you rocked in there! Ole Snotty didn’t know what hit her. You’ve got to be some kind of genius Zach! How’d you know all that stuff?”