Surviving The Zombie Apocalypse (Book 2): Conflict

CONFLICT

SURVIVING THE ZOMBIE APOCALYPSE

Joshua Jared Scott

This is a work of fiction.
All of the characters and events portrayed in this novel are either products of
the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.

CONFLICT: SURVIVING THE
ZOMBIE APOCALYPSE

Copyright © 2014 by Joshua
Jared Scott

All rights reserved,
including the right to reproduce this book or portions therein in any form.

ISBN 13:  
978-1-499-76057-6

Prologue

After a
surprisingly limited amount of thought and virtually no internal debate, I have
decided to create a second volume in my gripping, nerve wracking, unembellished
tale of terror, namely how I have thus far survived the thrice accursed zombie
apocalypse. I would have cursed the shambling dead four times, but that seems a
tad excessive, even for those miserable, flesh eating monsters. At any rate, I
shall reveal a single tidbit of what’s to come. Are you ready for it? Are you?
You have to be sure. Okay, here it is. I do not die at any point in this
narrative. Surprise! Granted, it would be difficult to tell my story otherwise.
Ghosts seem to be preoccupied with their own thing, and the corpses that have
taken control of our world are not exactly intelligent, much less literary.

As with
the first go around, this story will be divided into chapters, each of which
focuses on my personal story. After all, I am the most important person in
creation, well, just about. Additionally, interludes will be inserted between
the chapters. In some cases, these will focus on what others experienced prior
to meeting me. Such back stories are important and provide an understanding of
behavior, fears, and so forth. However, a few will instead be used to relate
events at the settlement while I was elsewhere. You see, I was occasionally
forced to leave for extended periods of time. A great deal occurred during
these excursions, but that’ll be explained later.

By the
way, don’t get all worried or concerned or uptight about the writing style. As
before, I am not going to compose the entirety in first person. My level of
arrogance isn’t that great. No, while there will be periods of reflection,
similar to what you’re reading right now, whenever possible I prefer to use a
more standard composition, relating dialogue as best I can recall. If that
makes no sense, I’m sorry, but you’ll see what I mean soon enough.

First, I
shall provide a short summary of past events. The disaster began on August 22
at 3:15 AM Texas Time (aka Central Time). Without warning, a quarter of the
world’s population went into sudden, violent convulsions. This occurred
simultaneously across the entire planet and without any noticeable pattern
regarding race, age, gender, or physical condition. All died in short order,
only to reanimate seven minutes later.

As you
well know, or should know by this point, these were not diseased individuals,
but real – I swear it’s true – zombies. Any doubts on the matter were rapidly
dispelled once people started fighting back. Chop off their arms or legs, and
they keep coming. Shoot them in the chest, even rip out their hearts, and
they’re barely slowed. The only way to put a zombie down for good is to destroy
the brain. High caliber bullets work the best, but in a pinch a crowbar or tire
iron will also serve. Severing the spinal cord results in paralysis, just as
with a human being. The current theory is that the nervous system is integral
to whatever keeps them going.

In those
regions where the sun was shining, namely the opposite side of the planet, the
living reacted quickly and sought to aid the afflicted. In many cases, CPR was
being administered when the dead awoke. With prey so conveniently at hand,
nearly half the population was dead or infected inside an hour. Think about
that for a moment. We are talking about billions here, billions with a B.

The
Americas fared no better. Most were asleep when the change struck, and with a
quarter dying outright, the odds were good that each household held at least
one zombie. I have no hard numbers, but the percentage of early infections
rivaled those elsewhere. Individuals living alone at the time were blessed.
Unfortunately, quite a few people tend to wake, eat, get dressed, and head off
to work or school without ever turning on the television or computer. Many of
these were caught by surprise as they stepped outside.

Adding
to my spurt of things you should already know, here’s some basic information on
the nature of zombies. Most obvious is that the things do not rot. Yes, I know
that’s not entirely true. They begin to decompose, but this ceases after a day
or two. There’s just enough to ensure they look dead, mostly by giving them
nasty, pallid skin. The eyes are also covered with a thick, gray film, similar
to mucus. I’m not sure if this is the cause of their vision difficulties, but
zombies can’t see more than a few hundred yards. In contrast, there is nothing
wrong with their hearing.

The
shambling dead are slow, barely moving above an ordinary person’s walking
speed, and they do shamble, hence the nickname. Their coordination is lousy as
well. They can manage stairs and rough terrain, although they tend to stay on
roads or other smooth surfaces whenever possible. Climbing, including ascending
a ladder, is generally beyond their capabilities.

I know
these facts are eerily similar to the bulk of the fantastically popular zombie
genre. Remember that? It was everywhere, until the fiction became reality. Yet,
there is one key item that differs from all the movies, books, comics, and so
forth. This is in regards to their method of feeding. Zombies do consume human
flesh. They crave it and will target anyone they come across. However, they
will not gorge. The monsters take one or two substantial bites and immediately
become sated. This period lasts roughly twenty minutes, give or take, during
which time they are completely non-responsive. As a result of this little
twist, most who are bitten remain intact, enabling them to reanimate and join
the ranks of the walking dead.

To be
bitten is to die, following several days of ever increasing agony. Seven
minutes later, the person returns. If death occurs without infection, the
unfortunate will come back in roughly twenty six hours. I discovered that
little nightmare of knowledge in a particularly stressful and unpleasant
manner. Also, only bites cause infection. Getting zombie guts or juices,
including saliva, on your body, in the eyes, even in an open wound will not do
it. There’s something about the teeth…

Enough
of the tedious lecturing and on to a slightly longer review of my personal
experiences. Obviously, I was one of the fortunate ones. I lived alone and, as
was my habit, checked the news first thing upon waking. After learning what was
going on, along with accepting it as true, I began to make plans to flee my
home in Denton, Texas. Even ignoring the fact that my house could never be
secured – picture windows have their drawbacks – being part of the Dallas-Fort
Worth Metroplex meant there were approximately four million people nearby, many
of whom were already zombies. The numbers grew even more distressing, not to
mention significantly larger, if I included the outlying communities and
adjacent counties.

I was on
the northern edge of the metropolitan area with my neighborhood bordering a
rural area. This provided me with a clear route out. Additionally, I possess a
gorgeous Jeep Wrangler, heavily customized for off road use. I have the ability
to get around wrecks and abandoned vehicles, and it is no problem to drive in
the grass, dirt, mud, or over rocks. It was another point in my favor. So, with
Briana Mills, one of my more lovely neighbors, in tow, I headed north.

By the
way, my name is Jacob Thornton – this is for those who neglected to read my
prior tale concerning the early months of the apocalypse. No forgetting who I
am. It’ll hurt my feelings. I mean it. I’m very sensitive.

During
the journey we met other survivors, several of whom joined us – most notable
were Lizzy and Mary – and we reached the Nebraska National Forest in early
September. From the very beginning, Briana and I wanted to get away from
population centers, and the northern Great Plains seemed ideal. Isolation was
the key factor. The forest is far from any large cities, with only a handful of
small towns in the general vicinity. A second benefit was the temperature. Any
idea how hot it gets in Texas in the summertime? When you have no air
conditioning or fans? Let me tell you, it’s absolutely miserable. Finally, the
multitude of farms in the area ensured plenty of food and the ability grow
things on our own, which would become necessary at some point in the future.

There
were others already there, campers and a large church group that had been on a
religious retreat. They were friendly folk, and our groups got along fine for
the most part. Unfortunately, they tended to be more than a little lackluster
when it came to security, believing God would protect them from the zombies,
and they were woefully unprepared to defend themselves when a large group
stumbled upon their campsite in the middle of the night. I responded, along
with Briana, Lizzy, and a few others, and managed to save quite a few. Still,
the death toll was horrendous. Many left following this, searching for another
location that might offer safety. Those who remained united with my group, and
we built a permanent settlement in an isolated meadow, deep within the national
forest.

The
raiders, a gang of irrational, insane psychopaths – there is no better
description for these bastards – were first encountered on November 15. Several
of us were in Chadron, a nearby town, looting some buildings when three men
rode up on motorcycles. Steph, a pretty redhead who was outside on watch,
alerted us to their approach via radio. I was hurrying back with Lizzy and
Briana when we heard the gunshot. Steph managed to wound the largest, but that
didn’t prevent her from being pulled to the ground. I shot one with my rifle,
the first breather I ever killed. Lizzy ended another. And Steph, well, she
stomped the third with her boots, crushing his rib cage and shattering the
skull. It was messy and brutal, but considering what they intended, the asshole
more than deserved it.

A few
days later we drove to Martin, South Dakota. This was in response to a radio
transmission we’d picked up. It was incomplete, but the location, along with
the need for immediate assistance, was clear enough. We sent a tiny group in
order to better gauge the situation before revealing our own existence. As
things turned out, our caution didn’t much matter. The compound had been
destroyed, and all the inhabitants murdered, often after being raped and
tortured. This included the children. It’s difficult to imagine such evil could
exist, but there’s no shortage of historical accounts of similar atrocities,
both in antiquity and modern times. Even so, we found it particularly
disturbing, and there’s an unofficial policy that anyone wearing a jacket with
those distinctive patches is to be shot on sight. Understand, the attackers
left their dead behind, and all were dressed in the same manner as the trio who
assaulted Steph.

We
hurried back to warn the others, but internal community matters blew up first,
making this impossible. I won’t go into detail on all that happened. If you
want to know, read my prior account. It’s far too complicated to relate in a
short summary, not without leaving huge, glaring holes in the tale.
Essentially, we were forced to run away before the shooting escalated and more
died. I went from being the leader of the group to an exile. Accompanying me
were Briana, Lizzy, and Mary.

The next
day, November 20, we discovered a caravan of several hundred raiders on the
highway that bisected the national forest. They likely would have gone right on
by – our settlement was deep within the forest after all – but one of our
former friends, not known for being observant, passed by in the distance. Outriders
spotted him, informed the others, and the entire column moved to follow, every
last one.

Despite
being expelled from our home, Briana radioed in a warning. This gave them a
chance. By the time the raiders appeared, there were several dozen men and
women ready to defend the castle. On a side note, the main structure was
composed of cinderblocks and reinforced concrete, having been dubbed a castle
by the children. The name stuck. The gang never tried to talk, didn’t even
demand surrender. They simply attacked.

For our
part, we took a back trail and exited the woods far to the side. I immediately
went into sniper mode and began to target the attackers utilizing a high end
hunting rifle. The ladies were gracious enough to provide me with cover and to
keep a look out. A few of the enemy noticed us, no way around that, but Lizzy
proved more than capable of dealing with the problem. It’s amazing what
buckshot can do to a human body at point blank range.

Things
grew even more chaotic when the zombies began to arrive. A large band had been
following the gang, and these entered our meadow, joined by hundreds more, all
attracted to the sound of constant gunfire and the occasional explosion. The
raiders ended up pinned between the shamblers and the castle. None escaped, at
least that we saw. Part of this was bad strategy and a determination to stand
their ground. Contributing was the fact the zombies swarmed their vehicles from
the start, preventing the raiders from retrieving extra ammunition or driving
off. Finally, our friends never stopped shooting at the attackers, putting the
proverbial nail in the coffin.

Looking
back, continuing to defend the castle was a mistake, a horrible one. The
settlement should have taken the opportunity the zombies presented – by this I
am referring to the raiders being largely distracted – and made a run for it.
They did not. Instead, they tried to secure the walls and gate. Against a few
zombies, it was perfectly safe. Even a hundred or more could be dealt with.
However, the raiders had caused significant damage, and many of our people were
dead or wounded. By the time any realized what they were facing, truly facing,
and sought to get out, it was too late. The zombies forced their way inside and
that was that. With no other options, Briana, Lizzy, Mary, and I ran back to
our Jeeps and drove away.