Summer 2008
Chapter One
Sam, Cameron, Ed, Iz, Rachel, Wes, Mystique, and Cassy are gathered in the main room of a vacant farm house on the outskirts of Des Moines’ south-side, two propane camping lanterns illuminate the room. The quarters are quite close and the late August heat is oppressive all on its own and with so many in such a small space it is stifling.
“August in Des Moines isn’t exactly my idea of the best time to be sitting around in an abandoned house with no AC, Cameron, so what are we doing here?” Sam, a large man dressed all in black asks from where he is sprawled out in an army green folding chair. “Why’d you want us all here in the same room on a night like this?” Sam demands forcefully, “It’s way too fucking hot and sticky for us all to just wait around until you’re ready to talk, so spill it.”
“It’s your own fault you’re miserable, Sam.” Ed snaps his Earth First shirt shining oddly in the lantern light. “If you’d be sensible and give up on that persona of yours you’d be a hell of a lot better off.”
“And you can keep your sanctimonious holier than thou prattle to yourself. I may not be a big fan of colors, or the heat, or even of being patient but I’m not the one who’s…”
“Oh, both of you just shut up and let Cameron tell us what’s going on,” Rachel snaps, red hair evoking her all too fiery personality.
“It’s time that we decided what we’re going to do about these monsters,” Cameron replies quietly.
“Do about them?” Rachel asks. “What do you mean do about them? What are you talking about? What are we dealing with?”
“We came across another nest of zombies and they’ve started killing people,” Ed answers, motioning between himself and Cameron.
“What? No, it’s been two years; there aren’t any more. There just can’t be - tell me that there aren’t more of them?” Mystique’s voice quivers.
“I’m afraid that there are more of them. Yes, there are a lot more of them. I don’t think any of us wanted to think that there‘d be more, but there are and this time they’re here in our own backyard. And we’re the only ones who have any idea of what’s going on or how to stop it,” Cameron adds.
“Wasn’t once enough for you, Cameron?” Wes asks “It certainly was for me. I don’t want anything to do with any fucking zombies. They almost killed me the last time - or did you forget?”
“No, I haven’t forgotten, Wes,” Cameron pauses, his face twitching first with anger then a twinge of guilt, “but we don’t have much of a choice in the matter. They’re here and we have to be the ones to stop them.”
“And why is that, Cameron?” Sam asks.
“We have an obligation to do whatever we can to stop these monsters, Sam. Now that we know that they’re real we can’t just put the blinders back on. If we could go to the police we would, but you remember what it was like after the last time; they just stared at us as if we were insane and we even had the bodies to prove what we were saying was true.”
“Of course we can’t go to the police. Unless you’ve seen them for yourself and had them trying to kill you, you just can’t believe they’re real. Besides, you remember last time, with the way zombies decompose after you kill them, taking a truck load of zombie corpses might look just a bit suspicious, don’t you think? I, for one, don’t want to be in the hands of those damn shrinks again; they tried way too hard to make me believe I was some kind of crazed serial killer. So Cameron, you’re preaching to the choir about doing something. I’m certainly not arguing that we shouldn’t do anything about them, I’m asking you to think through how to do it before we run in and get ourselves killed or sent off permanently to some padded room.”
“Sam, of all the people criticizing the full-on, charge into the horde, you are the last person I’d expect to have any problem, let alone to want a plan.”
“Just because I have a substantial homicidal streak doesn’t mean I’m stupid about it. I want to kill other things, not get myself killed. And like Wes said, unless you’ve forgotten the last time, you certainly know that I can and will kill every fucking one of those things that gets in my way!” Sam jumps to his feet. “So while I’ll be more than happy to go in and maybe go down swinging, I want at least some god-damned chance of coming back out alive.” He sits back down, staring at Cameron with rage-filled eyes. “Because, by God, this time we have a choice; we’re not the hapless campers out in the middle of the sticks this time. We know what they are, we know how to kill them, and we’ve done it before. But, if we’re going to do it, let’s do it right this time.”
“Then what do you suggest we do?”
“Get the zombies to follow us into a house and when they’re all inside run out the back and burn the fucking house down, kill any zombies that make it out of the inferno.”
“Sam, that’s just wrong.”
“And why is that, Ed?”
“Whose house do you propose to use?”
“The one that’s the most fucking convenient at the time. I’m not picky. I’m not saying that we should burn the owners along with the zombies but if it’s them and the Zombies or me dead then there isn’t really a choice.”
“And what happens to them with their house burned down? Or don’t you care about the aftermath?”
“I don’t think it’ll be that hard to find an empty house or at the very least force the people out of it before bringing the Zombies in.”
“And if they don’t want to leave?” Cameron asks.
“We force them out. Houses can be rebuilt.”
“So might makes right,” Ed scoffs.
“No, but might makes things a hell of a lot easier. I mean you managed to find this gem for us all to meet up in. We could always just burn this dump down, it’d be no loss. And, by the way, you fucking asked me for ideas. If you don’t like them, fine, think up something that doesn’t require a suicidal charge into an open field filled with zombies. I’m not too picky if you can talk them into just laying down nicely and letting us take their heads off, I’ll play the happy little headsman all day long, but until you can come up with something sensible I’ll just be off somewhere else.” Sam storms off, pushing the front door open so hard it crashes against the outside wall and sticks, the knob embedded in the wall.
“You know he does make a good point,” Mystique adds. “I certainly don’t want to make a charge into a horde of zombies.”
“Mystique, no one is going to ask you to. We all have to decide what part we’re going to play, and not all of us are going to be on the front lines fighting them,” Cameron adds in a soothing tone.
“Don’t patronize us, Cameron, and don’t think we’re dumb either. This is not a fucking game, so quit playing like you’re a goddamn GM. If we get through this it’ll be because Sam does what he does best, not because you decided to ‘play nice.’ And in case you’d forgotten, he’s the main reason we survived the last time. So, if he thinks we should sacrifice one house to take out the fucking zombies, than damn it we should probably think long and hard before we dismiss what he says,” Iz fires at Cameron.
“I’m for anything that gets me a good fight but I have to agree with Sam that I want at least some chance of living through it. And some chance means having a lot better odds than we had the last time,” Wes adds.
“None of us really knows the first thing about hunting zombies, Iz,” Ed ignores Wes’s interjection. “When we went through this that first time Sam might have been the one that stumbled upon the best answer, but that’s not to say he is the authority on zombie killing. So, while I’ll agree that Sam has the most experience thinking about how to kill things he still doesn’t have any more real life experience than the rest of us. And it is dangerous to readily accept what’s expedient rather than thinking it through and finding the right way to do something.” Ed replies.
“Listen to yourself, Ed: ‘he stumbled upon the best way to get us out of the last situation. He didn’t just accidentally get us out of it last time. He had an idea to save our skins, and while the rest of us were too scared out of our minds to do anything but run, he did it and got us all out alive. Not without our share of injuries,” she looks at Wes and pales at the memory of his broken body at the end of it all last time, “but alive. I’d say that’d make him the expert of the group.”
“Ed, she’s right, and while I don’t want to get into the habit of accepting collateral damage I can’t think of a better way to take down the nest without killing ourselves in the process,” Cameron adds reluctantly.
“I know...it’s just…” Ed starts to say more but Cameron motions him to stop and turns to Iz.
“Iz, would you go see if he’s still outside and bring him back in here, we need to figure out the details for his plan.”
“Sure, and thanks.” Iz heads out to find Sam.
“Now, what do the rest of you think about this?” Cameron asks the remainder.
The story has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.
“I think that Iz might just want someone else out helping her.” Wes pushes himself away from the wall and heads towards the door.
“Wes, are you in or out?”
“I’ll let you know when I find out what he’s going to do. Remember, last time wasn’t much fun and I know you weren’t the one risking your life dragging me out of it. So you can talk all you want but when it comes time to do something I know who I’ll be behind.” He walks out.
“I told you it was going to be like this, Cameron, we shouldn’t have brought Sam, Wes, or Iz in on this,” Ed says angrily.
“I know, but not bringing them in would have left it all…there were only a dozen and still…we couldn’t…dammit Ed.” He pauses, regaining his composure. “There aren’t many people who would believe this, and we need everyone we can get.”
“We weren’t going to talk about that,” Ed cuts him off.
“Weren’t going to talk about what?” Mystique asks.
“Yeah, what weren’t ‘we going to talk about,’ Cameron?” Rachel chimes in.
“We…well…we…dammit Ed, we already tried not involving anyone else and it didn’t go well. We may as well tell them,” Cameron stutters.
“But with more people and a better plan we can do this without any problem.”
“Yes, but it wasn’t a lack of a plan that almost got us both killed last time,” Cameron snaps. “I’m sorry, Ed, but we have to face it, we aren’t the ones with the real bloodlust, they are,” he motions outside where Wes, Sam, and Iz have gone, “and without it there just isn’t much we can do in the way of killing zombies.”
“I still think that there has to be another way to deal with this whole thing,” Ed retorts offhandedly.
“What? You want to talk to zombies?” Cassy giggles at the thought then bursts out into full laughter. “Oh I can just see it, People for the Ethical Treatment of Zombies.”
“There might be something to that,” Ed responds thoughtfully.
“Tell me you’re joking…” She looks at Ed’s serious face. “Dear God, you’re not joking.” She stops laughing. “Are you insane? You don’t talk to zombies, you blow their heads off and after they’re all the way dead you pray for the people they were. But you don’t talk to them.”
“We don’t know that, we’ve never tried anything but brute force maybe…” Ed’s rant trails off as he sees the look of horror on the other people’s faces.
“Why doesn’t anyone else get it?” Sam mutters. This isn’t a game, it’s not a joke, those words repeat over and over in his head. He pulls one of his several knives from a pocket and pushes the button on the switchblade. Closing the blade absentmindedly he starts to pace opening and closing the blade in the darkness.
“I should just walk away, but that leaves the others without a chance, following some incompetent assholes’ retarded orders.” Closing the switch blade once again he slides the safety lever up to lock and sticks it back in his pocket and pulls out a regular pocket knife. “Christ, there have been zombies in town for weeks now…there are just too many of them…I was going to have to ask for help sooner or later…I wanted it on my terms…not theirs…certainly wouldn’t have gone to Ed…doesn’t have a clue, fucking Eagle Scout but…doesn’t have the urge.” Sam looks down at the knife in his hand then in disgust closes the blade then shoves it back into his pocket. “Damn nervous habits, half the reason people think I’m a freak is because I just have to have my hands doing something.” He moves to the base of the tree he’s been pacing around and grabs a hold of a low hanging branch and pulls himself up climbing into the tree.
“What the hell am I going to do? I need help and they need help but can I make myself play nice?” From another pocket he pulls out a Zippo and starts flicking the cap open and closed in an odd imitation of a metronome. “Maybe with Iz and Wes to balance things out I can get some sense past the inane babble Ed and Cameron are likely to come up with. Besides that we’re going to need a bigger crew than are here tonight anyway. With a little luck I can get some realists involved.”
He rests his back against the trunk, one leg hanging in empty air swinging in time with the opening and closing of the lighter. “I don’t think any of them have really learned that life isn’t fair and I know they’ll think they can run a war where everyone gets a vote. Stupid, stupid, stupid; democracy takes too damn long, arguing every fucking little thing. People die sitting on the fence.”
Sam continues to grumble under his breath with eyes closed and lighter continuing its steady click, click, click. He is so preoccupied he doesn’t hear the house’s door as first Iz and then Wes come out into the abandoned house’s yard.
“Sam? Where are you?” Iz shouts.
“No need to shout, I’m right here.” Sam’s startled voice comes from up ahead in the branches of a nearby tree.
“You didn’t need to storm out like that.”
“Yes, I did. If I hadn’t gotten the hell out of there, I’d have done something I’d regret…eventually.”
“Ed and Cameron can do that to a person.”
“They can, but that’s not the problem. Or I should say it is but it’s more than that because anyone can do that to me these days. And then there’s the other thing.”
“What?”
”I already knew about the zombies - or actually about other…more zombies.”
”What?” Iz asks, startled.
“I’ve been killing them for weeks now. They just keep pouring into town. And most of them aren’t like the ones that we ran into on the trip; these are smart - well, kind of smart anyway. They get smarter if you don’t kill them quickly.” He drops down out of the tree and steps into the light of a reflected street lamp and for the first time his exhaustion shows.
“How? What…what do we do?” Iz stammers.
“The same thing we do every night…try and keep zombies from taking over the world.” He laughs.
“That is really not fucking funny, Sam!” Wes shouts, causing Iz to jump and whirl around. “If there are even more of those things than Ed and Cameron know about then you have to tell them.”
“Why?”
“What do you mean, ‘why?’ Because we need to do something!”
“I’m not a leader, Wes. I can do what it takes to get the job done but I can’t take people along with me. You know that; I almost got you killed trying to be the leader that night in the woods. I’m sorry I didn’t just tell you to keep running.” He pauses for a moment as flashbacks wash over him, he shakes himself. “I’ll go charging into the breach over and over but I won’t - I can’t - ask people to charge it with me.” Sam sighs and sits down resting his back against the tree almost disappearing into the gloom of the night.
“You’ve led us before,” Iz pipes in.
“Yeah and look how fucking well that went; Wes almost dies, Mystique goes catatonic and…”
“And what?”
Sam pauses, looking up. “And everyone ends up afraid of me.”
“We’re not afraid of you,” Wes and Iz say almost as one.
“You two might not be but look at the way everyone acts around me. Even out here you won’t come within three feet of me. Each and every one of you thinks I’m even more of a monster than those things.”
“Sam…” Iz starts.
“Don’t start. It’s not like I haven’t already decided to go back into that room and do what needs doing. Even if it means I have to put up with…god-dammit…fuck it all.” He nearly jumps up. “Give me a bit and I’ll go play good little soldier boy following stupid fuckers’ orders. Just tell them I’m not doing this half-assed; it’s all or nothing this time and they…you…everyone has to be ready for that.” He turns away from them and stares into the darkness.
“Sure, we’ll tell them, won’t we, Iz? They can’t fault you for that, none of us can.”
“That’s right! We’ll do this the right way this time.” Iz is startled by Wes’ hand gripping her arm. She turns to look at him. He motions for her to come along without saying a word or taking his eyes off of Sam’s back.
“Ok, now we do have a problem,” Wes whispers to Iz once they’ve passed out of sight of Sam.
“What?”
“He’s cracked.”
“He’s what? Make some sense, Wes.”
“Keep it down, he may be able to hear us.” He puts a finger to his lips. “Sam’s cracked; he’s put himself in too deep. Now he can’t keep it under control. He looks just like he did at the end of that night. He’s got the same look that my grandpa gets when he remembers Vietnam.”
“So, he’s gone through a lot.”
“Yes, he has and he’s been doing it alone…he shouldn’t do that. Post-traumatic stress disorder needs to be faced in a group and dealt with, not bottled up.”
“Exactly, that’s why we’re going to be there this time, right? You’re not thinking of bailing are you?” She stops and stares at him.
“No, I’m not bailing, I just needed to know if you saw it too.”
“Yes, he’s crazy but not much more so than he normally is or has been since that night. I knew he was crazy, but I never realized how crazy until that night. Now I can’t look at him without seeing it… and he can’t hide it. It bleeds through, and what’s worse, I know that he knows it.” She shivers. “Damn, just thinking of it…I don’t want it to be real, but it happened didn’t it?”
“Yes, it did, I’ve got the scars to prove it happened.” Wes’ face goes slack for a moment as memories start replaying. He shakes his head, clearing away the thoughts. “We all have the scars to prove that it really did happen.” He waves Iz forward with one hand while the other rubs his lower back and its mass of scar tissue.
“Well, time to tell them what he told us to tell them. This isn’t going to be fun, you know that?”
“Yeah, it’s never fun with that crowd. Why do they have to take that ‘holier than thou’ attitude? It’s not like they have any idea how to do any of this. I mean, damn, this isn’t a game that Cameron is running anymore.”
“No, it’s not a game, and I think Cameron knows that. It’s just that…” He shrugs and opens the house's front door.
“Ok, so he’s in,” Wes tells the crowd still gathered in the sweltering living room. “But he says it’s all or nothing.”
“What do you mean ‘all or nothing?’” Cameron asks.
“It means we are either in this to the end and we’re all committed to this fight or he walks, and frankly, if he’s gone so am I.”
“But…” Ed starts.
“No buts, it’s either in or out time, Ed,” Iz cuts him off.
“We’re in,” Both Rachel and Mystique chime in.
“It’s better to know what’s going on than to go home and wonder, isn’t it?” Cassy looks around. “So, I’m in.”
“That just leaves you two,” Iz says looking at Ed and Cameron
“We’re in, Iz. Don’t worry, we’re in.” Cameron answers for them both.
“As long as you all know this isn’t just a game. If you have even the slightest doubt that you’re going to be able to cut it, you should just get out now,” Sam says as he walks through the door.
“We all know it’s not a game,” Ed replies snidely.
“Knowing it’s not a game and being ready to do what’s got to be done are two different things. This is going to get messy and it’s definitely going to be dangerous.”
“This is new to us all, and it’s going to be difficult for all of us at different times, but I’m sure that we can work through those times and get the job done,” Cameron interjects in a smooth, calm voice.