Zombie/Apocalypse 2012: A Political Horror Story

Zombie/Apocalypse 2012

A Political Horror Story

Ian McClellan

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Smashwords Edition

Copyright 2012 Ian McClellan & Keith O'Toole

License Notes: This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this ebook with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each person you share it with. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then you should return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author

Cover design and art by Jeanne Torres

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This book is a work of fiction.

Any resemblance to any person living or dead

(unless explicitly noted) is purely coincidental.

Chapter 1

It didn't happen overnight like it did in The Dawn of the Dead. Nobody got off work, went home, fell asleep, and woke up to a neighborhood full of zombies, but we were all caught off guard just the same. Of course, in the grand scheme of things, the week or so that it took for the world as we all knew it to end wasn't a lot of time. Still, no one really saw it happening as it did, but we might have if we'd been paying attention.

They told us something was going on, but the media is a funny thing (or it was, I suppose. Sorry, I'm still not used to thinking of everything in the past tense), you had to watch the news and read between the bullshit. Anyone with a brain (a juicy, delicious brain- ha- I love topical humor) could see we had problems, but the way everything was presented was hazy, like trying to watch a movie through frosted glass- you couldn't quite see all the details, but you could figure it out if you were listening closely enough.

It was the Sunday before the Superbowl. Oops, there I go again. It was the Sunday before the Superbowl was supposed to take place. It never did, of course, but that was how most of us thought of that day. I was watching the pre-game show (Who am I? you may ask. I'm just some guy who got lucky and survived, if you want to call this luck, my name isn't important), when the first version of the story came out. I don't remember it verbatim, as a lot has happened since then, but the crux of it was that a virus was spreading like wildfire around the world, the symptoms were similar to mad-cow disease, but much worse, with victims going into wild rages and attacking anyone around them, and it was much more communicable.

My wife took a moment from reading her paper to look up and sayIt's that goddamned Obama. First the death panels and now this. That's what we get for electing a foreigner. He'll kill us all. My wife and I had always been pretty conservative. I owned guns my whole life (although I own a lot more now- ha), cut my hair like a man is supposed to, and accepted Jesus Christ as my lord and savior. To be honest, though, that last part is a little iffy at the moment, as I've recently had what's often referred to as acrisis of faith. I'm reading my bible and praying quite a bit, but, given the circumstances, it's hard to have much faith lately. Sorry, but however it turns out I'll probably keep it between me and The Lord.

My own conservative leanings not withstanding, my wife, in recent years, had started to really drive me crazy with all this nutty conspiracy crap. She started listening to some lunatics on the radio and regurgitating wild theories about socialism and birth certificates. Then there was the blogs, where your opinion was validated even if you weren't even smart enough to have some broadcasting degree. She'd even backed some insane woman in the primary who claimed that vaccines caused mental retardation. I had taken to humoring her in these situations and this occasion was no different.Yeah. That Muslim bastard is screwin' up everything. I'd go shoot 'im but then I'd go to jail and I'd miss ya.

Awww. You're so sweet, honey, she told me as she got up, kissed me on the head, and went into the kitchen to check on supper. I didn't realize when I married her what a fucking idiot she was, God rest her soul.

As I watched highlights of the two teams slated to play the following week (The Detroit Lions and The Buffalo Bills- my God, we should have seen the end of the world coming), my mind kept going back to the brief news report that had interrupted Our Regularly Scheduled Programming. A few things kept flashing through my mind.Wild Rages andHighly Contagious and, I'm a little ashamed to admit, the anchorwoman's cleavage (the wife had been taking out her recent political frustrations at several local buffets instead of at a gym. I'm only human). I must have really been deep in thought because I was startled when I heard my wife's voice.

Lance, (okay, my name's Lance, but it's still not important)dinner's ready. I tried to hide my surprise and give her a quick smile, but we'd been married for too long, there wasn't much I could hide from her any more.You sure are paying a lot of attention to this football coverage. You don't have money on the game, do you? she asked in a half joking, but half accusatory tone.

Wagering is business, honey, I replied.You're not going pink on me, are you?

She gave me an odd look for a second before she threw her head back and laughed.You're in a mood tonight, aren't you? she asked as she waved her finger in my face.You better be good or there'll be no dessert for you, she jokingly admonished me as she gave me what I could only guess was a seductive look and I fought with all of my being to suppress the urge to vomit.Let's go eat.

Fucking idiot. God rest her soul.

Chapter 2

Eight months earlier the company that employed me closed the doors of the factory I worked in and opened up another one in Mexico. Ironically, the parts that were produced in that factory were put in automobiles that the maker was still allowed to call 'American' cars. My wife blamed the unions, even though there were barely any private sector unions in my state, and I just agreed. My own theory involved greed and over-privileged wealthy pricks who ran companies without any regard for the people who worked for them. Of course I couldn't say that- my wife would've filed for divorce on the grounds she was married to a socialist. Everyday for those eight months I cursed that company, but these days I thank the Lord for that pink slip. If I'd been out and about those first days of the apocalypse I probably wouldn't be alive today. As luck would have it, I was safe and sound in my house that Monday when I got a call from my brother, one of the local sheriff's deputies.

Hey, bro. Are you watchin' TV?

No. I just got up. I'm havin' some coffee and readin' the paper. Why? What's goin' on?

Listen up, he told me with authority. Of course he'd always spoken with authority, even though I was the older brother. I guess that's why he became a cop. This was different, though, there was something in his voice that I'd never heard before.Don't leave the house until I tell you it's okay. Make sure your guns are clean and loaded. If...

I interrupted him.Jim, what th...

Let me finish, he interrupted backI don't have a lot of time and this is important. If anyone comes near the house and seems... off, you just start shootin'. If there's trouble later I've got your back, but you have to do what I say. Understand?

Jim, I don't get this. What's happening?

He sighed.We're having a small 'mad-cow' outbreak in town. The folks who are infected are... they're dangerous. People are dead, Lance. People we've known our whole lives.

Christ, I muttered.Jim, you be safe, I told him as I replayed what he'd just said in my head. Something struck me as odd.Why did you say it like that? I asked him.

Say what? He seemed irritated. Or maybe it was distracted.

Mad-cow. You said mad-cow like it should be in quotation marks. What, exactly, is goin' on?

I really don't know, bro, but I sure as shit know it ain't mad-cow. I have to go, but remember what I said. I'll call you later. I love you, Lance.

I stared at the phone in disbelief. I think I meant to say I love you too, but I was just too stunned. By the time I got myself together and found the words he was gone- off to save the town from God knows what. There are many folks who might have a hard time with this. Normal folks from what the professionals call 'well-adjusted' families. When he was on his deathbed, I told my father I loved him and he told me that he had a lot on his mind and didn't need me gettingall blubbery on him. You'd think the severity of the situation would have been obvious from most of the conversation, but it was theI love you that really drove it home for me. We were close, but we just weren't an emotionally open family. Jim's last sentence told me as much as everything else he'd said.

It told me I'd probably never see my brother again.

It was right.

Chapter 3

As I hung up the phone I caught a glimpse of movement out of the corner of my eye. I looked out the front window to see Ms. Jenson from down the street coming toward my house. She looked sick, kind of pale and there seemed to be mud or paint or dried blood (Dried blood? I tried to push that thought out of my head) around her neck and chest. Her salt and pepper hair was matted down with the stuff in places, and what wasn't was sticking out in all directions. Oddly enough, none of these details were what I noticed first. The first thing I noticed about old Ms. Jenson as she was coming toward my house was that she was moving kind of... quickly. Well, maybe not quickly, but she was moving at a normal speed, which, for Ms. Jenson, was quickly. You see, Ms. Jenson was a very large woman, God rest her soul, and not apt to move at more than a snail's pace for anything. I always wondered if fat people moved slowly because they were fat, or if they were fat because they moved slowly. I suppose I'll never know the answer to that mystery now, or quite a few others.

I was turning the knob of my front door to see what was wrong with her as the various details of Ms. Jenson's appearance and newfound physical capabilities got me thinking about the conversation I'd just had with Jim.If anyone comes near the house and seems... he had paused there as if he didn't know how to describe it.Off. was what he'd finally chose to go with. Well, Ms. Jenson certainly seemed off. Still, I didn't want to go out to see if she was okay with a gun in my hand. I went to the gun cabinet, pulled out the .357, and stuck it in my waistband at my back. At least she would never have to know it was there if I was just being paranoid.

I opened the front door and stepped out onto the porch. Ms. Jenson didn't just look off, but, even from twenty-five feet away, she smelled really off. It was a gagging blend of sweat and blood and rotting meat that would have brought my breakfast back up if I had eaten any. Before I could say anything she looked up at me and I saw that something was very wrong with her eyes. I thought I saw some hint of insanity in them at first, but really it was a kind of feral awareness- like a predator looking at prey. There was no madness there, only instinct.

She came lumbering toward me before I could say anything. Again my empty stomach tried to unload as everything underneath her muumuu swayed back and forth with her movement in gut-wrenching detail. Of all the horror I have witnessed since then, that image still remains the one that I can't seem to get out of my head- the one that wakes me up at night in a cold sweat. I knew there could be no reasoning here. The best I could do was incapacitate her and hope she could eventually be helped somehow. I drew the gun and fired without saying a word- and put a bullet right in her heart. The exit wound must have been huge, as I could see all sorts of large chunks of that large woman flying in the air behind her. Oh my God, I thought. I couldn't make that shot at the range for a million bucks. I just killed Ms. Jenson.

Behind me the screen door banged against the house loudly as my wife came running outside.Lance what in the name... she stopped very abruptly at the front of the porch and her eyes went wide. She continued on for a few syllables but what came out was nonsensical gibberish. Her face started to contort and I thought she might scream or break down so I grabbed her shoulders tightly and gave her a slight shake. I'm not a violent person, and would never hit a lady, but sometimes a person, male or female, just needs a good shake.

Look at me, honey, I told her in an authoritative tone that would have sounded more natural coming from Jim.Go inside and have some coffee. I'll be in in a minute to try and explain this. I hugged her but her arms stayed at her sides. She was shivering hard. Obviously, she was pretty freaked out.

She jerked suddenly and pushed me away.I just saw her foot twitch. She's still alive. We have to help her.

Honey, there's no way that woman is still alive. I was speaking to her like I would to a child. I opened my mouth to describe the shooting, then thought better of it.There's just no way, was all I said.

Then I heard the growl.

As we both looked to Ms. Jenson she raised her head and growled again. I pushed my wife aside gently and walked slowly to where she was lying.There's just no way, I had said not thirty seconds