Total Apoc 2 Trilogy (Book 1): Day of the Zombies Read online

  DAY OF THE ZOMBIES

  Total Apoc 2 Trilogy, Book #2

  By

  TW Gallier

  * * * * *

  PUBLISHED BY:

  Rowdy Rooster Publishing

  Copyright 2016 by Thomas W. Gallier, Jr.

  Cover by Christian Bentulan

  This is a work of fiction. The names, characters, and locations within either are the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  TABLE OF CONTENTS:

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Chapter 34

  Chapter 35

  Chapter 36

  Chapter 37

  Chapter 38

  Chapter 39

  Chapter 40

  Chapter 41

  Chapter 42

  Chapter 43

  Chapter 44

  Chapter 45

  Chapter 46

  List of other titles

  About the author

  Day of the Zombies

  Total Apoc 2 Trilogy, Book #2

  "I heard a man's soulful wail about an hour into my guard shift last night," Jenny said. "It sounded like his heart was broken."

  Her arm tightened around my waist as she laid her head on my shoulder.

  "Wow," I replied, looking out across the misty mountains. "Are you sure it wasn't a zombie?"

  There was a nip in the predawn air. I loved the mountains and their cooler temperatures. Three dogs started barking off in the distance. It was a comforting sound of home, but I knew most dogs were well on their way to becoming feral now that their owners were gone.

  "Hard to believe it's only been three weeks since the world ended," Jenny said

  I sipped what might be my last cup of instant coffee for the foreseeable future, with Jenny pressed up next to me as we gazed out over the mountain valley. Our community of nineteen families would be bugging out in the next few minutes. Sean had passed by in a rush, going downhill, a few minutes earlier. Mike and Charlie had volunteered to spend the night as forward guards above town. Was trouble brewing in town?

  "Feels like three years," I said.

  Gunshots rang out, echoing through the mountains. The shots were too far away to be from anyone in our group, but I still felt my wife tense up. It was a reminder her world was about to change again when we left the relative comfort and safety of our mountain cabin for the open road and an uncertain future.

  "Here comes Charlie," she said.

  He was coming up the twisting road at a brisk pace. I tensed. Charlie Bailey might be an ex-infantry soldier, but he wasn't a running up a mountain kind of guy. Something was wrong.

  I'd known Charlie and Mike less than three weeks, but after our long fight across zombie-ravaged America we were like brothers. I saw his eyes when he came around the corner. A chill flowed through me, and then I felt the adrenaline start to pump.

  "Roger, we have a problem," he said. "The horde is back."

  A large horde of zombies had followed the three of us up into the mountains south of Chattanooga. We turned them against a murderous mob of survivors attacking our mountain community. Most of the zombies followed the retreating mob and we thought we were rid of both threats.

  "Damn, we stayed one day too long," I said. "Are they coming up the mountain?"

  "Not yet, but it won't be long," he said. "Sean wants you down there to help assess the situation."

  I ground my teeth. I spent three weeks fighting my way across the country to be with my family, so I didn't appreciate being pulled away from them for any reason. Still, Charlie, Mike, and I did have the most experience dealing with zombies.

  "Was it you that fired those three shots?" I asked.

  "No. Those shots came from the west," he said.

  That was even worse. We were about to lead our families into the wilderness to the west of Blue Ridge, Georgia. First stop was Chattanooga to collect weapons, food, and transportation. Of course, there was a butt-ton of zombies down in that city we'd have to fight our way through. The last thing we needed was to be chased by a horde of zombies.

  "Give me a second," I said, turning Jenny into the door. Once inside, I put on my WEB gear with my Army issue Beretta 9mm, ammo pouches for both pistol and my M-4 Combat Assault rifle, and a machete. Most adults were carrying machetes, swords, or butcher knives since we were low on ammo. "Go ahead and get the boys up to the rally point. I expect we'll be leaving sooner rather than later."

  There were four packs lined up beside the door. Two larger ones for Jenny and I, and two appropriately sized and colorful book bags for our two little boys, Timmy and Harlan. All of our food and bedding was stuffed into those packs. All of our worldly possessions.

  "Do you think the horde is going to attack us?"

  She looked worried, and it took a lot to shake her. Our boys were at the table eating some oatmeal she cooked up on the Coleman stove. That might be their last hot meal for a while.

  "I'm going to do everything in my power to ensure that doesn't happen," I said. I kissed her and patted her butt. She grinned and shook her head. "Take care of the boys, and I'll worry about the zombies."

  Charlie and I took off at a trot. The families living below our cabin were already rushing up the road toward the rally point next to Sean's place. There was a pretty good trail that started there. Sean thought it would get us at least a third of the way to Chattanooga before we had to start moving cross-country.

  We reached the guard point and found it empty. So we continued down the road. We were almost to Blue Ridge before we found Sean and Mike. They were in a clump of trees with a pretty good view of a built up area.

  "Good morning, Gunny," I said. "Why did you have to spoil a last tender moment with my wife? Jealous?"

  "Immensely," Sean Andrews said, grinning. "You know how miserable divorced men like me can be."

  "Truth," I said. My eyes were drawn to all of the activity below. Even in the half-light I could see hundreds of the homicidal bastards milling around, looking for anyone or anything alive to kill and eat. Two were fighting over a dog's carcass, while others were smashing human bones to get at the marrow. "If it's this bad up here, then Blue Ridge has gone to hell."

  "Look over there," Mike Huston said.

  I lifted my binoculars and he pointed to the east. Our vantage point gave me a good view of a small section of the highway into the town. It was filled with more zombies coming towards town. Since there were still a few zombies coming from the west into Blue Ridge, going up the mountain seemed the logical next step for them.

  "They are already starting to come up from town," Sean said. "I suspect this is just the vanguard. Once they figure out there are living people on the mountain they'll flood up the road.
"

  "Those are the only zombies in the world not heading south," I said. "I feel so lucky."

  I felt our lack of ammo profoundly. Mike, Charlie, and I used up a lot of ammo fighting your way home. Zombies weren't even the scariest threat out there. Zombies attacked with their bare hands and teeth. Other survivors attacked with firearms, sometimes automatic weapons. If we didn't find more ammo quickly, then we might not make it to Canada.

  "Sean and I thought the best bet is to push that car over to block the road," Mike said, pointing to a bright blue Cadillac. It was a 1976 El Dorado convertible in cherry condition. My maternal grandfather drove one of those in my youth. I loved that car. "We'll leave one man behind to set it on fire when the zombies head our way. I volunteered to stay."

  "There's still a little gas in the tank that we can light on fire. That fire should keep the zombies back until it burns out," Sean said.

  "Does it run?" I asked.

  Sean shrugged. "Probably. The mob was using the car before the horde chased them away."

  "I have a better idea," I said, knowing my wife would argue that point. Jenny wasn't going to be happy with me. "I'll take one person with me, and we'll drive the car down into town and use ourselves as bait to lure the horde away to the west."

  "It's almost out of gas," Sean said. "We siphoned as much as we could out to make Molotov cocktails. You wouldn't get very far."

  "I don't have to. Once the horde starts moving up Highway 5, it'll continue westward. And then we'll cut cross-country on foot and catch up with the rest of you before you reach Ocoee."

  Ocoee was north of Chattanooga. We'd previously picked it as our first objective. From there we could scout out the situation in Chattanooga and I-75 north. We might be able to find some transportation to carry everyone. Mostly, I wanted to go into Arnold Air Force Base for weapons and ammo. Terrel Baker served in the Air Force at Arnold AFB and claimed he knew where they could find more than enough.

  "I'll go with you," Charlie said. "I'll be your gunner."

  "There's no key," Sean said.

  "Mike can hotwire it for us," I said. "Let's go."

  I headed out, followed by Mike and Charlie. Sean hesitated. As the overall group leader he had to be more cautious, so I had to force the issue. He'd spent the last three weeks focused on defense, while my friends and I were all about offense and taking the fight to the zombies. Well, to a point.

  We were all ex-military. Charlie, Mike, and I were former Army airborne, while Sean was a retired Marine. I tried to not hold that against him. So we moved quickly and stealthily down to the ' 76 El Dorado.

  "This is so sweet," I whispered. "I'm driving."

  The top was missing, torn off, but other than that it was in pristine condition. The seats were white leather. Everything was top of the line for 1976.

  "Automatic transmission," Charlie said. "You can have it. I want to be gunner anyway." He looked at Sean. "I like to kill undead things."

  "Zombies aren't technically dead," he replied.

  Charlie looked at me. "Are all Marines such killjoys?"

  "Pretty much," I said.

  Sean just shook his head. "I'm outnumbered three to one by Army pukes. When you find three more it'll be a fair fight."

  We laughed. And then we promptly shut up and dropped behind the car when at least a dozen zombies broke cover just a hundred feet away. I eased the door open and Mike crawled inside. The rest of us watched the zombies getting closer and closer.

  "Look here, Sarge," Mike said. I looked inside. "See those two wires? Touch them together and it'll start. Then leave them connected."

  "Go ahead and start it," I said. "Get in Charlie. We're going to mess them up. See you in Ocoee, Sean. Don't be late."

  The car roared to life. Mike slipped out and I climbed in, sitting on the back of the seat with my weapon braced atop the windshield.

  "Light them up," Sean called.

  We opened up on the zombies. A few of them did a little death dance, but most just dropped like rocks as our fire shredded their hearts and heads. You had to shoot a zombie in the head or heart to kill him outright. They might still be alive, but the bio-agent that turned them into zombies made them immune to pain.

  Sean and Mike took off running back toward the community. We waited to ensure no zombies pursued them, before I put the El Dorado into Drive and hit the gas.

  "Westbound and down, loaded up and shooting," Charlie sang. "We gonna kills some zombies today!"

  Chapter 2

  Gunfire erupted down the mountain. It sounded like Roger and the others ran into some zombies. At least I hoped it was only zombies.

  "Sounds like it's a good morning to leave, Jenny," Terrel Baker called. He was leading his family past our cabin. "Where's Roger?"

  The Bakers were an attractive African-American couple, and had been successful entrepreneurs in Atlanta prior to the zombie apocalypse. His poor wife, Sonja, still looked in shock. They both took the death of their eldest child, Whitney, hard. They still had one child, twelve year old Terrel, Jr. He was the spitting image of his daddy.

  "Roger was called down to the guard post because the zombie horde is returning," I said. Glancing off to the south, I gnawed on my lip. "Sounds like they ran into a few."

  The gunfire only lasted a moment, so there couldn't have been too many zombies. I heard a car engine revving up, and then more sporadic gunfire. My heart raced. Was it the mob? Zombies didn't drive.

  "Come with us," Terrel said. "There's safety in numbers."

  "Thanks," I said as I helped my sons put on their packs. They looked a little spooked, but brightened up to see little Terrel. Sonja rushed over to help. "I think we're probably going to be bugging out a little earlier than expected."

  My only weapon was a pistol. I'd used up all of the ammo for the rifles. Roger and I debated, though he might say argued, about whether or not to take the two rifles. I wanted to at least take my 30-30, but he said the chance of finding ammo for it was slim, and it was just extra weight to drag me down. He argued I'd just throw it away after a few hours to lighten my load. Since he was the combat veteran, I acquiesced under protest.

  More gunfire drew our attention toward Blue Ridge.

  "I hope they don't use up all of their ammo before we leave," I said.

  Sean gave Roger enough ammo for his assault rifle to have a standard load of seven magazines, including the magazine in his rifle. It didn't seem like much, but he was happy to have any ammo. Roger, Mike, Charlie, and Sean were the only ones using that ammo, so divided up what was left.

  Terrel carried a 12-gauge pump-action shotgun. Sonja only had a baseball bat. Both Terrel and I also had machetes. They were cheap things that bent every time we struck anything, but better than nothing.

  After shouldering my pack, I looked around to make sure I wasn't forgetting anything. Then I picked up Roger's pack and locked the door. I'm not sure why I locked it. Maybe one day we'd be able to return.

  Sporadic three to five round bursts continued as we rushed up the road to Sean's place. Most of the community was already gathered there when we arrived. Greg Hanes was trying to get everyone calmed down and in some semblance of march order. He was striding up and down the line in hunter's camo and trying to cajole everyone into doing what he wanted.

  "Terrel, can you slip in about midway," Greg said. He looked at the instructions Sean left him. "Jenny, your family is the lead. Where's Roger? He's our point man."

  "He'll be here soon," I said. "Sean called him down the mountain to see the zombies."

  "Is that what all the shooting is about?" Selma Carr asked.

  "Yes," I said. "So it's a good thing we are leaving this morning."

  She scowled, but said nothing. Selma, and her husband, Larry, had argued for staying. They seemed convinced the government would be sending troops to rescue them. Even Roger informing everyone that the government had no intentions of rescuing anyone and was actively keeping survivors out of the western US did not convin
ce them otherwise. Really, it was the fear of being left alone that made the Carrs and others come with us.

  Paul and Amy Sutton were next in line behind my family. Their daughter, Spooky, was my eldest's best friend. So Amy took charge of my sons while I went back to help Greg get everyone in order. Kids were running amok, as usual, with their parents shouting warnings and threats at them.

  "Is everyone here, Greg?" I asked.

  There were nineteen families in our community, ranging in size of a single adult to families of up to six. I wasn't even sure of the exact headcount number.

  "Everyone but Sean, Roger, Mike, and Charlie," he said.

  Mike and Charlie were considered part of our family, I guess. Either that, or there were now twenty-one families. I rather liked the idea of including them in our family. They helped Roger come home to me.

  "Jenny, can you help me?" Greg asked. He already had Terrel, Brian Hooker, and Vince Ripa. "Sean wanted me to hand out the spears."

  The spears were stacked on Sean's back deck. There was supposed to be one for every adult and teenager old enough to fight. The spears were mostly old shovel, hoe, and broom handles with large knife blades bolted to the ends. A wide crosspiece was attached about six inches below each "spearhead" to keep zombies from pushing all the way up and killing the wielder. They looked pretty pathetic to my eyes, but were better than nothing. For some, the spears would be their most deadly weapon.

  Each of us took a bundle and started handing them out. I started at the front of the line and worked my way back. The last people I gave spears to were the Carrs. Selma accepted hers reluctantly. I kept two for me and Roger.

  A child screamed before I could return to my position in the line. Rushing back to the middle of the line, I discovered Rosa Mixon had let her eight year old son play with her spear, and he proceeded to stab his little sister, Elsa. Elsa was screaming. Casper was crying. Rosa was hysterical.

  "It's okay," Fred Mixon said. "She's okay. It's not that bad."

  I knelt beside the six year old and examined her left forearm. It could've been worse.

  "Don't let your children play with weapons!" I shouted angrily.