It was a disease that no one saw coming. People were dropping like flies and those who hadn’t perished due to its incurable nature, the effects of it caused several symptoms that were very hard to deal with. Of course, there were your unicorns. Those born with some type of genetic mutation who had the disease but never experienced its symptoms but were able to spread it. Or those who were really just immune to it all fighting to stay out of the reach of the government’s hands. The world had become a scary place. If you weren’t the problem you were the answer and if you refused to be the answer, you were to be imprisoned and made to do what those in power wanted you to do.
No one wanted it – but it seemed that every inhabitant of Earth had it, save for those lucky few. It infected the animal kingdom as well. Our worst fears were realized when we discovered that it was in the water…everywhere. In rain, in lakes, rivers, and oceans. Boiling water to purify it was a way of life. There was nowhere safe, and since the rainwater carried the disease, those who were newly deceased carried it as well. The dead walked the Earth.
No heartbeat or brain function could be detected. No longer among the living but they walked the Earth just the same. Speculation as to what caused the disease has been debated. Some say it was in fact various governments tampering with nature or developing bio-chemical weapons that backfired on them. Still a vast majority of the population turned to religion, blaming God for their undoing. Blaming him for the terror released upon them. No one knew for certain what the cause was or wasn’t and it divided the masses into factions of survivalists. Some that believed we had all been thrust into the end times and some that believed the world’s political leaders and their armies were to blame. With no real answers to the problems they faced, they did what they could to survive.
Over 60% of Earth’s population were what the CDC called, non-viable. The government called them threats but those living and fighting each and every day, called them zombies.
“We’re fucked,” Hiram said looking out of the window of his truck, rifle in hand. He was down to just a handful of bullets and they were supposed to last him until he reached the Camp Zion.
“Just calm down…you see that?” Greg said pointing towards a group of them shuffling and dragging along the hill side. “They’re moving a lot slower now. A lot slower. I wonder what gives.”
“Why don’t you go ask’em buddy? I’m sure they’ll tell you. And will you hurry up? Nobody takes that long to pee.”
“Hiram, we all know that they don’t bite…they’re probably just as confused as we are. Look at them, they’re all dressed up and walking around with no place to go. I mean, if they don’t have a need to feed or even fight, why come after us the way they do?”
“Like I said, you can go ask’em or we can get the hell outta here.” Hiram slid the truck’s gear shift to D while Greg buttoned up his pants and climbed into the truck.
“Hmm…” Greg said looking at the moaners slowly descending down the hill. “I don’t feel that talkative today.”
“Good, you big turkey. We’re leaving.”
Hiram continued down the dirt road, following the signs that led to the camp. They watched as the landscape rolled by and the moaners continued lazily through the fields. As he drove along, Hiram thought about what Greg said about them moving slower. In the beginning, they had been damn fast. They ran and they attacked. But as the months wore on…they seemed to be moving slower, almost at a crawl. Like the thing that drove them earlier on had left them. He wondered what would cause that. Why now?
“Hey Greg?”
“Yeah?” Greg said with a lit cigarette dangling at this lips.
“Remember a few months back when they dumped that chemical with those crop dusters. Over the radio they said it was supposed to help. You think that’s why they slowed down?”
“Well…probably that and deterioration. They’re rotting and it looks like it’s happening fast.”
“They said we all have it. It’s airborne and we all have it. They keep reminding us. Why?”
“Dude…I don’t know!” He pulled the cigarette from his lips and looked out the window, exhaling a steady stream of smoke. “I don’t mean to be short with you…it’s just…hard to come to grips with what’s is going on. I mean, you remember what we saw back there in Christian Cove that lady gave birth to a moaner…how in the hell does shit like that happen?”
“Well Gates Landing wasn’t that great either and definitely will be stuck in my memory banks forever.”
“We don’t even have forever.” Greg flicked his ashes out the window and pointed to a dead cow roaming the country side.
“Well it’s definitely going to haunt my afterlife. You saw it didn’t you?”
“No, I walked in at the end, thankfully.”
“Shit…thank your lucky stars my friend. That was some disgusting shit.” Hiram gave a visible shake at the images passing through his mind.
“Apparently, the sex drive doesn’t die with the body…” Greg laughed and gave Hiram’s shoulder a slap.
“C’mon man…”Hiram winced and shook his head.
“Lighten up man…could’ve been you.”
“Never!”
Greg laughed and finished his cigarette. Hiram picked up speed at the last sign that read, “Zion two miles away”. Zion was rumored to be everything opposite Christian Cove and Gate’s Landing. The people there weren’t divided or pushing their ideologies on others, they were just trying to survive like the unlucky few outside of their encampment. Christian Cove demanded that the folks within their walls take up their religious practices and laws, while Gate’s Landing had no strict rules to follow they didn’t exactly keep the peace either. Any illegal activity you could name happened there. They were a lawless bunch – taking up the ways of the old west.
Hiram and Greg met in the city, where they were scavenging for food and supplies. While inside a Walgreens, Hiram grabbed medicine, food, drink, and medical supplies when he heard a man fighting off a few moaners….they were freshly dead. Hiram saw this and came to his aid after which they became fast friends. They decided two heads were better than none and stuck together. They’d both heard the voice over the radio letting weary travelers know that they were out there and in a place called Zion. They were neither heretics nor heathens…they were just people who wanted to live out the rest of their lives in peace and sought people that could help them build a community where they could achieve this. Perfection didn’t exist anywhere in the world but it took for the apocalypse to happen for people to create a sort of Utopia where everyone could just exist and live free of judgement.
With Hiram’s military background and training in Special Ops and Greg’s knowledge of the culinary arts and fishing talents – they figured they could be assets to the community. But they had to get there first. The closer the got to the entrance to Zion, the more they noticed the moaners in the road. Some they were able to drive past and others they had to drive over, releasing a sickening thump and squish from their putrid bodies. While it didn’t bother Greg to run the undead down, Hiram felt remorse. Sure they were undead but they used to be people that had families and kids, friends, houses, and jobs. Now they were just …here, moaning and walking at a snail’s pace because they died with the disease or had come from their graves with the disease reanimating their corpses.
The newly dead, those who could run and still speak could be seen at the top of a hill beneath. Once they spotted the moving truck and took off in a run, Hiram stepped on the gas. There was something different about them. The last spray that happened changed the new ones, it made them more violent. Whatever chemical compound the CDC used in the last drop counter-reacted with the disease. It made them hungry, violent, and hard to kill. Seeing this only a few times before, Hiram decided speeding up was the best route.
Zion was a gated community, formerly known as Maryville Estates where the well do to lived and thrived before the outbreak. They empty houses of those who had perished still remained up kept and lived by those left surviving. The gates were well guarded and armed by former military personnel and those who were no stranger to fighting the dead. Inside its well managed walls people – men, women and children lived as peaceful as they could under any other circumstance.
Hiram and Greg arrived just outside the gates with a pack of moaners on their heels. They had to fight them off, in order to gain entry inside. Hiram was armed with his rifle and Greg had his machete. Together they chopped and shot their way to safety. Some of the inhabitants of Zion saw them fighting and came to their aid. When Hiram ran out of bullets he used his hunting knife to take down zombies one by one. Slitting their throats, stabbing them in the heads and hearts or dismembering their frail bodies. Those that were newly dead, took more effort. A simple stabbing in the heart or head shot didn’t work. It took multiple hits and more force to bring them down.
A member of Zion, Ryn came to their aid with a blow torch and burned them until they were flaming piles of rotten flesh outside the gates. The last of the newly dead stood still and watched as she set them to flame. Hiram, Greg, Ryn and one other member of Zion watched the moaner. He looked as though he were deciding whether or not to attack. Cognition. Something they had never seen in the undead before. He approached them slowly and what happened next shocked them to their core.
“Eaaaaaaaaaaaatt….Huuuuuunnnngahhhhrrrryyyyy!” The moaner yelled as he approaching them.
Greg and Hiram looked at each other then back to the moaner. Greg raised his machete at the ready while Hiram stood stunned at what he was hearing. Ryn spoke up from behind them.
“Dude…move out of the way! He’s com…” Before Ryn could finish her sentence the moaner rushed toward Hiram. He was just a few feet in front of him when an arrow was shot through his skull and Ryn lit him up with her blow torch.
Hiram stumbled backward against the truck and rested there a moment, “The hell! It talked! Oh my God! The damn thing talked!”
“Yeah and it wanted to eat you,” Greg said standing behind Ryn while she sprayed fire on the moaner with a wild look in her eyes. “Umm…I think it’s dead.”
“Of course it is! I just want it to stop moving!” Ryn yelled letting up on the fire.
A man came out from behind a tree with his bow and arrow. When he rested a hand on Ryn’s shoulder, “Chill girl…He’s done and super crispy. I don’t think he could get up even if he wanted to.”
“Dante, don’t you remember the last one I toasted? He set fire to everything he touched! Just a big ball of frying flesh running everywhere burning everything.”
“Yeah I remember, but we have to use this thing sparingly. And hey…Weren’t you supposed to be at the other post with your mom?”
“Yeah, aren’t you glad I wasn’t though? She sent me ahead. We saw the grave dancers coming this way and these two in their sights.”
“What did you just call them?” Greg stretched an eyebrow upward.
“Grave dancers! It’s a term my mom used to describe the undead in a short story she wrote called The Digger’s Delight?”
“Is your mom someone I should know? Like is she widely published?” Greg walked over to Hiram to see about his friend. “I’d love to meet her.”
“You’ll love her! She’s awesome!” Ryn gushed about her mother. “She’s guarding the south post, her shift is almost done.”
“I’m fine man…just, I need a second. That was too much.” Hiram took a deep breath in and exhaled heavily while shaking his head and gripping his chest.
“Which part? The rushing toward you or the talking?” Greg helped Hiram straighten up and took a quick look around to see if there were more moaners approaching.
“That part right there.”
Ryn chuckled at Hiram’s theatrics then went and extended a hand toward the man trying to pull himself together, “I’m Tieryn, but my friends call me Ryn…and you would be?”
“Hiram, but my friends call me Hiram.” He shook her hand and nodded. “You’re pretty good with that thing. Who taught you how to use that?”
“My Nana. She was a combat specialist in the Army a million years ago.”
“Wasn’t that long ago, youngin!” Dante argued, “I’m roughly the same age as your Nana! And I kick ass all day!” He shook his head and turned toward the hill. “We need to get a move on, there’ll be more coming soon. Plus night falls pretty fast ‘round these parts.”
Greg and Hiram climbed into the truck and waited for the gate keepers to open up. While sitting inside the truck readying themselves for what was to come next they talked about what had just happened. Neither of them could believe what they saw or heard. But both were wondering the same thing.
“The drop?? You think that chemical shit is responsible for what we just saw?” Hiram asked, uneasy and ready to be done with the day.
“Well it makes perfect sense. The dead don’t evolve. They don’t adapt to their surroundings. Somebody’s messing with us.”
“All of us, my friend. That shit is everywhere. Not just here.”
“You do realize what day it is, don’t you?”
“Shit! This is so fucked up.” Hiram said exasperated. He started the truck and rolled slowly within Zion’s gates.
“Happy Halloween, brotha.”
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