Damn, my new job at a rehabilitation center for sexually violent peoples is far too distracting to keep a normal writing schedule. That's something I have to work on. It took me months to get around to actually writing this chapter, and it can't be like that. I promise myself, from now on I will write at least a chapter a week. I've done all the research. I've planned every chapter. Now all I need to do is sit down a write them.
THE
ZOMBIE
BOOK
2
The Zombie Book Series
By Diana Graves
Copyright © 2017 Diana Graves
All rights reserved.
Kindle Edition
♦
Damn, my new job at a rehabilitation center for sexually violent peoples is far too distracting to keep a normal writing schedule. That's something I have to work on. It took me months to get around to actually writing this chapter, and it can't be like that. I promise myself, from now on I will write at least a chapter a week. I've done all the research. I've planned every chapter. Now all I need to do is sit down a write them.
I felt jostled awake by another nightmare. That wasn’t uncommon for me. I’d been having nightmares ever since I watched my husband die right in front of me. He was a diabetic but we’d been hiding in our home for months while zombies rampaged outside our walls. His glucose was low and so were our rations. He guilted me into eating so I would keep producing milk for Christopher, while he practically starved himself. I was breastfeeding Chris on our bed by candlelight when he walked into the room clumsily and fell to the floor and began seizing. I climbed off the bed, leaving our infant to cry out for me. I held him while he shook violently, but just as the seizure passed and he opened his eyes and looked directly at me, he blacked out and never woke up. In my nightmares, he either woke up and began screaming at me for letting him die or he turned into a zombie and tore Chris apart.
I hopped down from the gurney and turned the lights back on in Karen’s office. I opened Karen’s black zombie book and reread a note of her’s that had been bothering me.
Doctor Duskin, entry 30. Day 560 since U.W. incident.
None of these local zombies are anything like the patients we saw in Russia. The earlier infected were violent but they never tried to actually eat anyone...bite yes, but not consume. And the pattern of rot is different also. The local zombies have general rot all over their bodies, while the earlier versions only rotted at sites of infected injuries, like patches of gangrene. This is a drastic evolution. Gangrene could possibly travel through the bloodstream, but what could cause obsessive-compulsive hunger for raw flesh?
“What indeed?” I said aloud to no one. Good to his world, no one had bothered me in days and I found myself regretting the request. I missed people...Just not enough to reach out to them. As much as I wanted someone else to talk to, I didn’t want to be forced behind the glass again, like some kind of fucking prisoner or animal.
I’d taken over Karen’s zombie book, adding my own notes from all that I’d seen during the first three years of the outbreak. Such as how they liked to travel in groups and seemed attracted to sound, even when their ears had rotten away...Then I turned to the internet. Yes, we had internet access. It was limited, but the whole world hadn’t gone to shit, just a few choice places...From the CDC’s own website, I took notes on what they’d shared about the zombie outbreak. They reported that the disease was evolving around the world in different ways. In some areas in the Middle East, the infected were growing extra limbs. The idea of a zombie with four arms was fucking disturbing! In South America, the infected were growing larger, like long and lanky giant zombies. Fuck! I guess I should consider us in the US lucky for now. But so far there was no mention of a thinking zombie. It seemed I was the only one. Now, if only there was a way to communicate with the CDC. Unfortunately, the US Government decided in their infinite wisdom that those inside the infected zone could see the internet, but not interact with it in any way whatsoever. No emails, messages, chats, posts, tweets, comments or video uploads of any kind were allowed. I had no way of letting the world know about me.
The door opened and Pane walked into the room saying, “Morning,” cheerfully. I got out of my seat immediately and moved to the metal door.
“You forgot to let me know you were coming in,” I said as I moved to shut the door between us, but Pane put his hand on the door.
“It wasn’t a mistake,” he said. “Blimey,” he breathed as he looked me up and down. “You look bloody awful.”
“I know.”
“You’re not hungry for me, are you?”
I scoffed, “You’re a cute little Brit, but I prefer taller men.”
Pane rolled his eyes. “I volunteered to come in unannounced to see if you were a flesh eater. Clearly, you’re not. Derek and Gerald and I agree that you should come out of here. It’s been far too long. If you were going to lose your mind you would have done it by now.”
“Oh, I don’t know. I’ve always been a procrastinator.” Pane laughed. “How’s Chris?”
“He’s great.”
“Great?”
“You know, playful and learning how to be a normal kid again.”
A normal kid? “He was never a normal kid before. Normal kid’s don’t have zombie moms.”
Pane shrugged. “Such are the times we live in.” I eyed Pane thoughtfully. “What is it?”
“I do need to get out of here.”
“Fantastic. I’ll let the others know,” he said with a smile and a clap of his hands. “We’ve missed you.”
“No, I mean that I need to get out of here. Out of the bunker. I need to go to Seattle.”
He blinked his pretty eyes at me several times, trying to think of what I said and what he should say maybe. “Why? What’s in Seattle?”
“The University of Washington and maybe someone who could use my blood to help. There could also be more people like me, thinking infected.”
Pane held up his finger as if to make an argument, but instead, he turned around and walked out of the room altogether. While he was out I started packing. I didn’t have much to pack in here. A couple changes of clothes that Gerald had brought in to me while I slept last night. He was pretty good at keeping me in clean clothes. Today I was wearing ill-fitting blue jeans and a green t-shirt. I packed a toothbrush, four water bottles, and the zombie book into a black bag that had once held some spare lab equipment, which now on the floor.
Derek walked into the room. He looked down at the bag and then back at me. “Come into the common area,” was all he said before he walked away, leaving the door open.
With my bag hiked over my shoulder I followed him down a wide hall, which appeared very much like I’d imagine a submarine looked like on the inside. There were metal tubes running along the walls and bare lightbulbs hanging from the ceiling. Every door, including the one I just walked through, was a huge metal thing, like a bank’s safe door.
The common area of the bunker was a living room, dining room, garden and kitchen all in one open space. Chris and Sarah, Derek’s teenaged daughter were sitting together on the couch watching an old movie, Willy Wonka, and the Chocolate Factory. Chris didn’t notice me when I entered the room but Sarah did. She looked nothing like Derek. Her skin and eyes were a lighter shade of brown than his. Everything about her was delicate while everything about Derek was large and imposing. Her eyes widened at the sight of me. I smiled to try and ease her obvious fear but otherwise chose to ignore her and gave the living room my back as I approached the dining table where Derek sat beside Pane. They were looking down at a map that was unfolded on the table. I glanced at Gerald, who was rummaging through the kitchen cupboards.
“Where are we?” I asked Pane and Derek.
Derek pointed to a red mark on the map inside the Olympic Rainforest. “We are here, just a few miles west of Triton. It’s a small town on the Puget Sound. Almost everyone who lives there has a boat. You’re bound to find at least one available.”
Looking down at the map, Seattle was almost parallel with Triton. “Smart. Taking a boat through the Sound will be faster than walking or driving around,” I said.
“Safer, too,” Gerald chimed in with his head in a cupboard.”
“But, I’ve never driven a boat before.”
Pane got up and opened a cupboard near the dining table. He grabbed a two-way radio out and set it on the table.
“You’ll take one of these with you. When you find a boat, radio us and we can look up the specs over the internet and talk you through it.”
“Awesome possum. How far can these radios reach?”
“The box they came in said up to thirty-six miles, but we’ve found it’s closer to twenty miles, less if there is any kind of obstruction; buildings or mountains,” said Pane.
Gerald set down two large bags. “Weapons and food.”
I looked at the bags with wide eyes. “There is no way I’m caring three large bags from here to Seattle.”
“You carry one and I’ll carry the other two,” Gerald said.
“I’m going alone.”
“You can’t-” Gerald started to say but I stood up abruptly and he stopped.
“I’m going alone,” I said again and my voice held demand and authority in a way that made me sound alien to even me. To his credit, Gerald met my stern glare with his own, but he didn’t argue with me.
I set my own bag on the table beside the two he packed. I opened all three bags. His two bags were actual tactical gear and not simply storage for spare equipment so I emptied everything out of my bag and made some room in one of the other bags by taking out half the food Gerald had placed in it. Looking down at the weapons bag in thought, I decided against guns. Guns just attracted undead and people. Both were not desired. I grabbed a couple knives and tucked them in with my food and clothes. I zipped the bag and put the strap over my shoulder, crossing my body.
“Is that all you’re taking?” asked Derek.
I grabbed a machete from the weapon’s bag. “Yup.”
“You’ll need a rain poncho, belt, and good boots,” said Gerald.”
“That would be nice. And a spare sleeping bag if you’ve got it.”
“You got it,” said Gerald.
“Say goodbye to your son,” Derek suggested. I looked at Chris. He was engrossed in Willy’s Factory. If he hadn’t noticed me yet, I could easily slip away without scaring him with my ugly mug. “You’ll regret it if you don’t.”
Damn it. I knew he was right. I pulled my dark hair back and tied it into a knot on my head while I walked to the couch. I sat down beside them. Sarah looked at me with caution.
“Chris?”
Christopher didn’t look up at me. He placed his head in my lap and smiled.
“You scary Mommy,” he said. “You a zombie?”
“Yes,” I said with my lips curled into a sad smile. I was happy to hear his vocabulary expanding but sad that he spoke the truth.
“I love you.” Heartbreaking! I’d never heard him say those words before.
“I love you, too. I have to go, but I’ll be back.”
“Okay,” he said and he sat back up and looked at me. “I safe here.”
“Yes, you are.” I kissed the top of his head, taking in a deep breath and forcing myself to memorize his smell.
Chapter 3: PRESS HERE
Chapter 3: PRESS HERE
