Apoc. Book Series
ITS BACK AND BETTER THAN EVER BEFORE
Book 1, Main 1: The Beginning of The End
Book 2, Main 2: Treeclimber
Book 3, Prequel 1: The Journal Writer
Chapter Name: Mel
This make take a while to read; just a warning.
As I was approaching the town, I saw my condo. “Home sweet home.” I thought as I got closer.
I started to pedal faster out of fear of nightfall. The thought of being caught in the dark gave me an adrenaline rush. I arrived at my condo a few minutes later. Night seemed to seep in from the horizon as I dropped my bike and bounded up the front steps. I entered the code into the lock and walked inside, closing the door behind me and locking it.
I walked through the kitchen and into the hallway that led to the basement. I jogged down the steps and got my Model 459 pistol and M1014 shotgun. I went back up the stairs and set the guns down on the kitchen counter. I opened the fridge and grabbed a Monster. I popped it open and chugged it down. I walked over to the pantry and grabbed a package of Pop Tarts. I ripped it open and shoveled the Tarts into my face.
I walk back into the living room and turn the TV on. I flip to a news channel. Commercials. I take a quick bathroom break and get back just in time for the news.
“Mason Vilcherra here, reporting live for HLN. The Chronatidus Epidemic continues to spread despite military and law enforcement attempts to desperately try to contain it. As of right now, Africa and Europe are completely overrun by the disease, along with South America and most of Mid America. North America and Asia are holding out as best as they can. Survivors are being evacuated from cities to bunkers and ships. Islands are being monitored for signs of zombie activity. Those on islands are being advised to stay indoors as much as possible and to keep light and noise to a minimum during the night.”
“Also-----” He is suddenly cut off by static and then reappears “Shit, they’ve gotten here!” he whips out a gun and starts to shoot. I helplessly watch as he backs into the wall, reloads and starts to shoot again. I continue to watch as the zombies close in on him. They reach him as he screams out “run, save yourselves, just- aghgghghhh” he is cut off as a zombie bites him in the neck. The others join in as he screams in agony.
My family has access to private TV channels because we’re military. I start to flip through the private channels, looking for a specific one. The channel I’m looking for is owned by this dude named Hannibal Emerson. About a decade ago, he started to build a private military base on an island off the coast of California. He bought ships, like carriers and cruisers and stuff, from the government to guard it from any sea-borne threats. He even has a few oil rigs to supply fuel for stuff on the island. He sold whatever oil he didn’t need. Eventually, he was selling so much he just decided to found an oil company called “Le Oil”.
After a few more channels, I finally find it. What’s even more shocking is that the channel is up and running. I expected that even his island would be overrun by now. But apparently not. Anyways, back to the TV. It’s Hannibal himself.
“Hello all of you that are watching this, all 286 of you; Han here. So yeah, all of us here at Alpha Base are still alive. If you didn’t know, Facebook is still up and running. If you’re friends with me, just let me know where you are and I’ll send something over to pick you up.” He goes on about how he’s been doing recon and how he’s already taken in a bunch of people. He mentions that his scientists and doctors are looking at how Chronatidus works and how they’re working on a cure for it.
“So yeah, good luck out there. Han out.” The transmission ends as he says that. I think about my parents and my brother. A few months before this mess happened, he started to insist on us calling him Zodiac. Don’t know why, but he did. Eventually, we all gave in and started to do so. I was the first one, then Dad, then Mom. After a while, he started to ask his friends to do it. They thought it was weird, but did it without a second thought.
After a while, we got used to it. Once, I accidentally called him Anthony, and he said “Who’s Anthony?” I guess he really liked being called Zodiac instead of Anthony. Well, it does sound a bit cooler. Then I remember my boyfriend, Drake Harkinson. Oh God, I hope he’s alright.
I rush over to the phone and dial his number. It rings 7 times before someone answers. It’s Drake.
“Hi, who is this?” he asks, suspicious.
“Drake, it’s me, Emily!” I shout out, so excited that he’s alive.
“Oh my God, Emily, where are you?” he shouts back. I hear him shout to his mom “Mom, its Emily!”
“Emily, sweetie, how are you?” his mom, Patricia asks.
“Good. How are you guys?” I ask back, relieved to hear human voices that don’t belong to me or a news reporter.
“Good so far. So where are you?” she replies, just as happy as I am.
“Our condo. Just got here about an hour ago.” I answer, starting to calm down.
“Want us to come pick you up?” she offers. What I wouldn’t give to see another living human in the flesh.
“Yes, please, pick me up. I’m about to die from withdrawal of human interaction.” I say sarcastically.
“Ok sweetie, I’ll be over in about 15 minutes. Think you can survive that much longer?” she jokes.
“I’ll be fine.” I shoot back.
“Okay, see you soon.” She says, evidently calming down as well.
We trade byes and hang up. I run to my room and grab one of my backpacks. I run to the pantry and start to shove food into it. I open the fridge and start to carefully put in drinks. I close up the pack and turn to my weapons. I put the 459 in my belt and strap the M1014 over my back. I walk back into the living room and sit on the couch and wait.
After about 5 minutes, I hear a knock at the door. I know who it is, but I look through the peephole just to make sure its Patricia. Yep, it’s her. I open the door and scream in excitement at the sight of another living person. We say hi, hug, the usual, and get into her SUV.
“So, how’s your day been?” she asks.
“Not bad, nearly killed myself from exhaustion from biking.” I joke.
She laughs. “Mine’s been okay. Did some cleaning, boarded up some windows, counted our guns.” She says.
We arrive at her house a few minutes later. One-story, has a pool, a basement, the usual suburban house. I grab my pack as we pull into the garage. We get out and walk over to the door. I open it and find myself in Drake’s bear-hug.
“I never want to let go.” I whisper into his ear.
“Neither do I.” He whispers back.
We stand there for another minute or so hugging each other.
“Okay you two, that’s enough for tonight.” His mom calls out from the kitchen.
“I’m so happy to see you again.” I whisper excitedly. He simply nods in agreement.
“Emily, you can sleep on the couch in the living room. There’s already a blanket there with some pillows.” Drake’s mom calls out.
I walk into the living room and plop down on the couch. I take my shoes and socks off and bury my head in a pillow while covering myself with the blanket.
“Night Emily.” Drake calls out.
“Night.” I reply.
My sleep is full of nightmares. Replays of being separated from my parents and my brother, Patient Zero’s red glowing eyes and pitch black body and tentacles, the zombies, and the glowing green dots I saw yesterday. I sit straight up from my sleep just as I see them. A gasp escapes me as I sit up. I hear footsteps coming my way. I hide under the blanket and pray to a God I don’t believe in.
“Emily, it’s me.” It’s Drake.
I slowly start to sit up. I think about the look of terror on my mother’s face as we were separated. I burst into tears at this image forever burned into my memory. Drake simply sits down next to me. I bury my face first in his shoulder, then in his chest.
“My parents,” I sob “they were taken from me.”
“I don’t know what happened to my brother. He disappeared a few days before I got separated from my parents.”
He strokes my hair and starts to shush me and tell me everything’s gonna be okay. Part of me wants to believe him, but the part that doesn’t overpowers the part that does.
I wake up in the morning to find Drake asleep on the floor next to the couch. I look at his shirt and see where I cried last night. “Wow, I must’ve cried a LOT last night.” I thought to myself. I carefully got up off the couch and shambled into the kitchen. I opened my haphazardly packed backpack and grabbed a pack of Pop Tarts and a thing of Jell-O. I open a drawer next to the dishwasher and grab a spoon.
I sit down at the table and tear open the package of Pop Tarts and the Jell-O container. I break a Tart in half and start chomping down on a half. I shove the spoon into the Jell-O and take it out. I take out about half of the container in that single spoonful. I shovel it into my mouth and swallow it. It goes down easily. I eat the other half of the Tart as I hear a groan from the living room.
“I’m in the kitchen.” I call out to Drake.
He wanders in, hugs me from behind, and opens his pantry. He pulls out a box of Cheerios.
“Those still exist?” I sarcastically ask him
“Yep, they sure do.”
He opens a cupboard and pulls out a bowl. He gets a spoon and some milk. He makes his bowl of cereal and comes to sit next to me. I rest my head on his shoulder.
“God, I feel like shit.” I whisper to him.
“I feel you.” He shoots back.
“So yeah, turns out my dad was on the team of people that created this virus.” I say bitterly.
==Book 4, Prequel 2: Patient Zero==