By: Donovan Stark
“Hell with waiting,” Rick said to himself as he stood outside his apartment in Keyport, the morning sun blocked by gloomy clouds. He heard the news reports on the radio and television, and knew what was happening. It started as random attacks and homicides in Passaic County, but nobody thought much of it. But when the attacks formed a pattern, spreading faster throughout the area, people started to worry.
Rick knew what was happening, he had been preparing for this as long as he could remember, the dead were rising to kill and devour the living. He had grown up watching zombie movies, and knew it was only a matter of time till fiction became reality. He had already begun to pack up supplies and load them into his van, but had a few important ingredients to add. After a glance upward into the gloomy sky, Rick turned around and went back into his home.
“Thank God for George W. Bush & the NRA,” he mutters to himself, “well I guess the Black Market deserves some credit,” as he removes several automatic rifles from a box under his bed. “MP5-SD6, M-16, Beretta 92F, Glock 17, etc., about six or seven spare clips each, and plenty of extra boxed ammo. Time to get rolling.”
He loaded all his ammo into the van, along with food and extra clothes.
“Hope I make it back here.” as he looks back at his home, not wanting to leave his life behind, but knowing he must go. He closes and locks his door, “What’s the use though?” and runs to his van. He revs the motor, and begins his journey of survival.
He drives as fast as he can, through the carnage that is already beginning to plague the area. His parents live down in Red Bank, twenty minutes away, and the city is already on the verge of chaos. Zombies could be seen in rather numerous but manageable groups, for now, but how much longer until this city is dead, just like Sayreville, just like Perth Amboy, just like every town and city that this plague of the undead has lurched through.
He drives his car right up to his parents’ front door, not like anyone’d mind.
“Mom, Dad, you here?”
“Rick, I’m so glad you’re okay!” his mother yells as she comes running down the stairs.
“Mom, Dad, we’re leaving. Pack quickly, and Dad, gather all your ammunition and toss it in the van out front. Move quick, we have to get James next.”
“But son, where are we going?” his father asked.
“Somewhere safe.”
Rick knew exactly where they were going, to their summer home in Pennsylvania. He had been going there ever since he was eleven years old, and spent many hours exploring the several secret passageways in the house’s walls, as the house had once been a stop on the Underground Railroad. He once even found a hidden storage room under the basement, almost like a second basement.
“Alright let’s go. We have to get James, if he didn’t fly out already.” Rick and his parents run out the front door, but are stopped by three zombie’s clawing at the van.
“Oh shit!” Rick’s mother shouts, alerting the ghouls. They turn around, and shamble towards three fresh meals.
“Hell no!” Rick pulls out his Beretta from his waist holster, and pumps out three shots, all penetrating the creatures heads, dropping like sacks of meat. “Let’s get going.”
They pile into the van, and zoom down the road as fast as they can. “I hope that Jim is still home.”
Rick drives into Eatontown; his brother always wanted to live near the mall. Rick drives right up to the front door, “Dad, watch my back, and make sure nothing gets into the house,” and bolts out through the back of the van and into the house.
“Jim, you home? Jim!” He hears faint noise coming from the kitchen. “Stay away, don’t make me shoot! (Click, click) Oh fuck!” Rick dashes to the kitchen, and sees his brother cornered by three zombies. “Don’t even think about it!” and he shoves one out the kitchen door, while throwing another over a table.
“Thanks bro,” as Jim grabs a kitchen knife, and plunges it into the top of the third zombie’s head, disposing of it instantly. Rick tosses his brother a Glock, as he sends a zombie’s eye out the back of its head with two rounds from his pistol.
“Jim, behind you!” and the zombie shambles its way back through the kitchen door, and grabs Jim by the shoulders. When it tries to sink its teeth into Jim’s shoulder, without looking over, Jim shoves the pistol into the ghoul’s mouth, and blows the top of its head off.
“You okay Jimmy?” Jim brushes zombie crud off his shoulder,
“Besides the fact that my kitchen is a mess, I’m fine.” “Fag,” and the brothers embrace. “Pack your ammo and some clothes, we’re going to our summer home for safety. You remember our plans, right?” “If things in the world went to shit, we could hold up there as long as we need, how could I forget?” Rick snickers a little, “Okay, we’re getting out in my van, get your stuff, I’ll pack up whatever food I can. We’ve got five minutes.” Rick opens the fridge, and stuffs all he can into a duffel bag, while Jim runs upstairs to grab his gear. After minute or two, there is a scream coming from outside, “Mom!” and he drops the bag and bolts to the front door. Zombies are trying to get inside the van, containing Rick’s parents. “Hey maggot meal!” and he drops several of them before pulling the others off the van. “Jim! Come out here!” and out of a second story window, Jim fires shots at the ghouls with his high-powered rifle, topped with a telescopic scope. “Peek-a-boo, I see you!” and drops the creatures in record time. Rick gives his brother thumbs up, and opens the doors, “You guys alright?” “Yeah, my pistol jammed, and I panicked, so we jumped in and closed the door.” “At least you’re alright. I’ll be back in a few.” “How’d you get so good with firearms?” “We learned from you pop.” And he goes back into the house for the supplies. He picks up the duffel bag, and when he stands up, a zombie is standing in the doorway, “not now,” and he pulls out his pistol, aims, and…click, empty! “Oh great!” He drops the bag again, and drops the clip from the pistol. He pulls a spare out of his pocket, but it slips out of his hand. He drops down to pick it up, and as he does, there is a loud bang, and the zombie drops to the floor, headless. “What the fuck?” and he turns around, and sees his brother, leaning over the stair banister, rifle still up in the air. “Give me a heads up next time, aiight?” “Heads up…” and Rick immediately drops to the floor, as Jim destroys another zombie’s head, sending blackened blood, brain and skull matter flying into the air. “Happy now Rick?” “Yes,” and they rush out the door before more can come flooding in. “Mom, Dad, open up. We’re running out!” They come running through the front door, leaping into the van, supplies in tow. Rick climbs into the front seat, and revs up the engine, alerting several more zombies in the area. Jim leans out the passenger side window, taking pot shots with his pistol. “Let’s roll!” and Rick peels out, sending grass flying from under the tires, plowing through several zombies, smearing blood on the van’s formerly clean hood. When they drove back through the town, it was almost like a warzone, “Jesus! It wasn’t this bad on the way to get you guys, and that was less than half an hour ago!” Suddenly, a young man stumbles into the van’s path, his shirt and hands bloody. “Help me, please…” Rick steps out to help him, but stops, when he sees the young man’s hands clutching at his stomach, trying to keep his intestines from spilling out onto the street. “It’s too late for you, friend. Find yourself a safe place to hide, and die in peace. Or, I could put you out of your misery now.” “Yes, I don’t want to be like them. Please,” and he drops to his knees. Jim turns his head as Rick raises his pistol, aims, and fires a shot clean through the man’s head. The body drops to the cement, as his organs spill out of the gaping wound in his abdomen. After a moment, Rick steps back in the van and drives on, as a group of zombies converge on the fresh, warm corpse. “You okay bro?” “Yeah Jim, I’m fine.” As they approach the parkway, a zombie trapped inside a tollbooth claws at the window, attempting to reach the approaching van. “Should we pay the man?” Rick asks, in an attempt to lighten the mood somewhat. He steps on the gas, and peels out. “God…” is all Jim can say, as they view the many cars scattered on the road, doors open, some collided with each other, burnt out. One car in particular, a bloody skeleton still held inside by its seatbelt, bones almost picked clean. The roads appear empty; there are some zombies clamoring inside their vehicles, clawing at the windows. After about half an hour, they stop at the Cheesequake rest stop, seemingly long since abandoned. “Okay, we’ve got ten minutes, whatever you’ve gotta do, do it. Mom, take this, its small and easy to handle,” handing her a revolver. “Here’s how you load it, along with extra ammo,” and the four of them spread out. “Hey bro, I’ve gotta take a leak, cover me.” The brothers sneak into the bathroom, making sure there isn’t anything inside. “Looks good, go on.” After he finishes, they begin to walk out, when there’s a noise. “Shhhh, I hear something.” They pull out their pistols, and step over to the last stall, and kick it open. “Aaaaahhh!” screams a young man, blood on his shirt. “Who are you, are you hurt?” “No.” They lower their guns. “Then why…” “It’s my wife’s blood. She’s dead. We stopped here for something to eat, and before we knew it, those things were everywhere. She got bitten by one of those, those things. After she died in my arms, I hid in here, and hoped they wouldn’t find me. And now, you two show up. Who are you, cops or something?” “No. I’m Rick, this is my brother James.” “I’m Steve.” “If you want, you can come with us.” “Alright.” They walk out of the bathroom, and they go into the food court. “Hey, the burgers are still hot. Want one?” “Sure.” Jim tosses out bags w/ burgers and fries. “Bro, wrap and bag whatever’s still hot, and we’ll bring it to the van.” Rick jumps over the counters, snatching up burgers, fries, chicken, and Chinese food. “Hey guys, look over there.” He spots a very messy corpse clad in leather, a gun still in his hand. “Desert Eagle, I call dibs.” and Jim pries it from the corpse’s hand. “Check for extra clips.” as he searches the pockets, a set of keys falls out of a pocket. “How much you wanna bet that these keys belong to the van with the flames on the side we saw outside.” “Three burgers and a side of fried rice.” “You’re on bro. Steve, keep a look out, we’ll be back in a few minutes.” Steve nods his head, and the brothers leave. “There it is.” Jim puts the key in the back door lock and turns. Click, it opens. “I win.” He pulls the door open, and their jaws hit the cement. Inside is a veritable citadel on wheels; shotguns, rifles and pistols of all sizes and calibers, frag grenades, several assault rifles. “Hey bro, you crying?” “This is just so beautiful, Dad is gonna love this.” They relock the van, and run back inside, where the others are waiting. “Dad, guess what?” “What?” “We found a corpse with a Desert Eagle and a set of keys on it, and the keys belong to a van outside stocked to the roof with guns, grenades and tons of ammo. I’ll be right back.” he takes an empty plastic bag, and runs back for Steve and their fast food. “Hey Mom, Dad, this is Steve. Steve, these are our parents, John and Barbara. He’s coming with us.” Jim’s mom ponders, “Can we hold him?” “He can ride shotgun in the other van.” “What other van?” “Our boys found a van outside packed with ammo.” “Oh, okay.” “Hey Steve, take this.” He hands Steve his Glock, “You sure man?” “I do have the Desert Eagle, remember?” “Alright.” When they start to move, a moan comes up from somewhere inside the place. “Oh shit!” and the five survivors scramble to the vans. “Steve, you ride with Jim in the other van, Mom, Dad, you ride with me. We’ll meet up somewhere empty down the highway, now let’s go.” And they part ways. “Steve, watch my back while open up the van.” “Okay.” And when Jim puts the key in the door lock, something grabs his arm. He looks up, and sees a female zombie, her skin pale blue and her sallow eyes filled with hunger, blood still coming out of a rather large wound in her arm. “Fuck!” Jim wrenches his arm free from her clammy grasp and hops back. “Rachel, you’re alright…I thought…I thought you were dead.” But as he goes to embrace her, Jim grabs his arm. “She IS dead, now move back,” and he pulls out his Desert Eagle and aims it at her head. “No!” and Steve puts the Glock to Jim’s head. “Don’t you dare! You touch her, and I’ll kill you!” He pulls the gun out of Jim’s hand and drops it on the cement, and then takes the keys to the van. “I’m sorry Jim, I really am. Okay honey, we’re getting out of here and going somewhere safe. I’m so glad you’re…AAAAAHHH!” as his former wife sinks her teeth into his neck, sending a stream of blood flying onto Jim’s face and shirt. “No! Steve!” and Jim pulls a revolver out of his belt, and puts a bullet through the creature’s brain, spraying blood onto the parking lot. Jim kneels over Steve lying on the ground. “I’m sorry Jim, guess I shouldn’t have done this. I let my emotion overwhelm my sensibility.” “Don’t worry. I would’ve reacted the same way.” Getting up on his knees, he pulls the corpse of his former wife over to him and cradles it in his arms, blood flowing out of his gaping wound onto his shirt. “Jim, I want to be alone with my wife for a little while, go, but leave the Glock.” “Alright.” And he picks the pistol off the cement and hands it to Steve, and begins to walk away. Steve puts his lips to his dead wife’s, and gives her one last kiss. “I’ll be with you soon, I told you we’d be together forever, and we will. I love you Rachel.” And as he holds her tightly in his arms, he pulls the slide back on the pistol, and…BANG! Jim closes his eyes tightly fighting back tears, but suddenly, another terrible moan erupts from inside, as well as all around him. Zombies hiding inside have been alerted by the gunshots, “Uh oh,” and he runs to the van. Nervously, he attempts to unlock and open the door, but when he turns to look back, there are several dozen of them coming out from the rest stop towards him, and he drops the keys. “Where the fuck did they all come from?” and he picks up the keys, and fumbles with them, finally opening the door and lunging inside, just as the ghastly horde reaches near the rear of the van. He guns the engine, and backs over part of the advancing mob, crushing them under his wheels, and peels out in the same direction as his brother. Several miles down the road, the vans pull into a seemingly deserted gas station, where only one car remains. Rick hops out of the van, and removes an M-16 from the back, and a few minutes later, Jim steps out of his van, the blood on his shirt turning brown. “Jim, are you okay, where’s Steve?” He gives his brother a blank look, “Steve’s dead,” and walks off to the bathroom behind the station. “Rick, what’s wrong, what happened to Steve?” his mother asks. “I don’t know. I saw the blood on his shirt and face, and he told me Steve was dead, and then he walked into the station’s bathroom.” “Go after him and see if he’s okay.” Rick slings his rifle, and takes a shotgun for Jim, and walks over to the bathroom, finding Jim standing in front of the grimy mirror, his head hanging over a sink full of vomit. “Jim, what’s wrong, what happened to Steve?” He gives no reply to his brother, and Rick spins him around, face to face. “Answer me! We don’t need you falling apart on us already, especially me. I need you to get yourself straight, and damn fast!” and he gives his brother a slap in the face. Jim’s eyes open wide, and he begins to cry. “I’m sorry, I’m the reason Steve’s gone. I hesitated, and because of me, he’s dead, and he won’t be coming back.” Jim grabs his brother and wraps his arms around him, burying his face in Rick’s chest. “I’m sorry kid. What happened?” Jim wipes his face, the tears washing the blood away. “When we were about to get in the van, a zombie grabbed my arm, and I jumped back. Steve identified it as his wife, and when I tried to shoot it, he put his gun up to my head. He was willing to kill me if I shot her, thinking she was still alive.” Jim turns his head, and chokes back another dose of vomit. “He made me drop my gun, and he took the car keys from me, and moved towards him, about to leave me there to die, and then it bit him, and his blood sprayed on my shirt and face. I shot her as he went down, and he pulled her into his arms, and asked me to leave his gun. I turned around to walk away, and then I heard a bang, shot himself. Then I heard that moaning sound again, and dozens of them came pouring out of the rest stop. I grabbed the keys and my gun off the ground, and bolted out of there, almost became lunch myself.” Rick lowers his head. “Alright. Clean yourself up, and we’ll check out what’s left here,” and he hands Jim the shotgun. After a few minutes or so, the two of them walk outside. “Mom, Dad, Steve is dead.” They all bow their heads for a moment. “Dad, you and Mom check the pumps, see what’s left, we’re gonna check inside. The two brothers unsling their rifles and carefully step inside the gas station’s store. “Check for cigarettes.” And Jim hops over the counter, and sees above him racks full of packs and cartons of smokes. “Jackpot,” and he pulls a garbage bag out from behind a box, and fills it up with all the cartons he can fit in it. “Hey check out that display.” And Rick looks at a display full of Zippos, and smashes open the case. He actually looks at the designs, and then chooses about a dozen different lighters. “Here bro,” and he tosses one to his brother, receiving a box of Parliaments in return. “Thanks.” They open up a few packs of cigarettes, and light up. “To think I thought I would have to quit with all this going on.” Jim laughs slightly as he lights a cigarette. “I hear something Rick, over there,” and the two sneak over to a garbage can. Rick puts his ear to it, hearing the faint sound of someone breathing. He lays his hand on the lid, and yanks it off. The two jumps back and raise their guns. “Aaaaahhh!” screams a young woman. “Who are you?” “Don’t kill me!” They pull her out of the garbage can, and Jim wraps his hand around her mouth. “Just calm down, and I’ll let go of you.” She stops thrashing, and he removes his hand from her mouth. “Now, who are you and what are you doing here?” “I’m Jaclyn. I was here with my brother, and we stopped for gas. We hoped that we could get out of here before the shit really hit the fan, but no. I saw him get bitten, and he made me hide in here and keep quiet, but I heard a scream, and I never saw him again. It felt like I was in there forever, and then you guys showed up. Who are you, soldiers?” “You could say that. I’m Rick, and this is my brother Jim.” “Hi. Can I bum a cigarette?” “Sure, keep the lighter.” “Thanks.” Rick turns to Jim, “Pack every single can of fluid, spare wick and flint there is. Check in the back too.” “Alright.” And Jim walks into the back, but comes back out and vomi
