Day One
The injection
Subject A:
0905: Subject was intravenously given NSAN3 Flu serum.
0907: Injection site is red and swollen but subject remains normal.
0914: Subject begins coughing uncontrollably and spits up blood.
0918: Subject coughs to the point of vomiting. This vomit is nothing but thick blood.
0924: Subject demands to cease testing and wants medical attention.
0933: Subject assaults nurse Callahan whom attempts to inject the subject with sedative and must be physically restrained.
0947: Subject snaps ankle straps and kicks Dr. White in face while nurse Callahan attempts to inject the subject.
0952: Subject is finally injected with sedative.
1001: Subject responds negatively to sedative and convulses on table.
1011: Nurse Callahan slits subject A’S throat with scalpel. Subject A bleeds out and is DOA.
1018: Nurse Callahan is physically restrained and is now referred to as Subject B.
1020:Subject B begins same uncontrollable coughing fit as Subject A and now vomits blood as well.
1027: Subject B snaps both wrist and ankle restraints.
1029: Subject B assaults and kills three medical personnel.
1031: Subject B escapes.
Chapter 1
Giovanna Allman
Three months. Three fucking months I have sat my ass in my humongous house as I wait for Richie to return. Richie is my bodyguard. Richie is fired.
“Princess, are you hungry?” I purr to my sweet little Pomeranian.
Princess yaps and runs circles around my feet. I love my sweet pup. She goes everywhere I go. Although lately, the only place I go is to my pool. I haven’t been outside of the gates of my house in three fucking months.
“Gio, I’ll be back. I need to check on Stephanie and the kids. I’m not sure what the hell is going on but you need to stay inside. Keep the curtains drawn and the doors locked. Do not let anyone but me in. I’ll come back as soon as I know things are safe.”
Three months later, I’m still sitting in my home, bored as fuck. Every single one of my staff left me to check on their families. Three weeks after Richie left, I lost electricity. Life has been rough from the moment my bodyguard walked out my front door. In the back of my mind, I know they’re never coming back.
“Princess, we’re out of dog food but I know you love crumpets,” I chirp in a British accent. She yaps in agreement. The British dialect is second nature to me. At fourteen, on television, I played a character on the show, Sassy Frassy in Tallahassee. It was a show on the Disney channel about a British teen trying to fit in at a Florida high school. When the show was cancelled after a five year run, HBO picked me up to play a college female that ran a prostitution ring called, Madam R. Four seasons and an Oscar later, I am one of the highest paid and sought after women in Hollywood. Madam R is a hit and solidified my stardom. That show pays my bills. Well, it was a show.
Who the hell knows now.
“It’s their loss,” I tell her as I toss her a stale cookie from the pantry. I try not to think about the fact that my super stocked pantry has dwindled more and more each day. I’m not sure what I’ll do when the last of it is gone. I might have to open the cans but without electricity to use the can opener, I’m not sure how to get them open.
Princess yaps happily and proceeds to munch on her cookie.
I pick up my cell phone from the counter and stare at it. For a woman that has relied heavily on her phone for her career, not having the daily access to people, Twitter, my agent, and everything else I used to look at has been incredibly difficult. I also miss my boyfriend.
James Locke is Beverly Hills’ most notorious bad boy socialite. His father was the creator of Locke Technologies. They’ve created products that have nearly put Apple out of business. James will never have to work a day in his life. I caught his eye on the red carpet at the fourth season premiere of Madame R and we’ve dated ever since. When I wasn’t on set, we spent our time fucking and partying. There was never a dull moment.
Now, every day is as dull as hell.
“Princess, are you ready for a swim?”
My sweet dog loves sunning by the pool and barks as she hauls ass to the back door. I ignore the grumble in my belly as I snatch up an old magazine off the counter. I’m really going to have to figure out how to open those cans. I’ve eaten everything that is perishable except the stale cookies I’ve been feeding Princess. Living off crackers, chips, and other bullshit has not helped with my figure. Once this all blows over, I’ll hire a nutritionist to restock my pantry so I can get my body back in shape. I’m pretty sure I’ve gained a little weight which is not acceptable in my industry.
Sliding open the door, I try not to trip on my pup as she scampers through the opening. Today is a beautiful day—perfect for getting a tan. I walk over to my lawn chair and pull off my cover up, revealing my red shred of a bikini. James loved this swimsuit and always pulled on the strings to get a sneak peek at my tits. God I miss him.
I sit down on the chair and stretch out. My long, golden legs are smooth. Even though I have to take freezing ass showers in the dark, I make sure to shave my legs each time. Something weird might be going on outside those walls, but Giovanna Allman always looks her best.
I’m honestly terrified to think about what’s going on beyond those walls. Right before the electricity shut off, the news stations were begging everyone to stay inside to avoid a deadly flu epidemic. No problem there. Ever since, I’ve been waiting for someone to come back and tell me things are back to normal. I’m waiting to be rescued. From what, I’m not sure. At this point, boredom.
My ears perk up when I think I hear something. Princess’s head snaps in the direction of the sound and her ears rise. She might yap when she’s excited but when she’s scared, she hides. I see her warring with whether or not she should hide under my chair.
“What is it, girl?” I whisper.
She whimpers and scampers under my lawn chair.
But after fifteen minutes of complete silence, I decide it must have been a squirrel. I’ve always enjoyed my quiet secluded home, but even being off the beaten path in the hills, I still heard sirens and traffic daily. For months now, though, all I hear is silence.
The temperature rises as the afternoon sun makes its way directly above me and I feel sweat begin to bead on my back and neck. I brush my fingers through my long, blond hair and thread it into a thick side braid, tying it off at the end to keep cool. Tugging at the string at the neck of my bikini, I release it, freeing my breasts. I fumble with the back and manage to pull the top off. On Madam R, I frequently show my tits and no tan lines are a requirement. Looking down at my breasts, I grin. After Sassy Frassy in Tallahassee was cancelled, I rewarded myself with a boob job. Gone were my B cups and now I sport beautiful DD’s.
I wake up to something licking my face and giggle to see Princess resting on my bare chest trying to wake me. My lack of food, dehydration, and the sun must have wiped me out. Now, though, the sun has fallen behind the trees and darkness is quickly descending upon us.
I fucking hate the dark.
The worst part about this entire “where the fuck is everyone” situation I’m in is night time. At night, my mind and ears play tricks on me.
“Come on, Princess,” I hiss as I scramble out of the chair with her in my arms and slip on my flip flops. A wave of dizziness washes over me but it quickly passes. I’m almost to my door when I hear shattering glass. It is not too far off, maybe my neighbor’s home, but it scares the shit out of me.
More racket echoes through the trees and my heart feels as if it will explode from my chest. The sounds don’t seem like people are on their way to help me. No, the noises sound like people are breaking in.
Shit!
Once inside my house, I slide the door shut behind me and draw the curtains so that Princess and I are cloaked in darkness. After setting her down, I hear the jingle of her collar and the scratching of her toenails on the wood floors as she hightails it to my room upstairs. She’s going to our safe place.
When I first started hearing things and would become really spooked, I made myself a safe room of sorts in my massive closet. On one end, a gigantic mirror about five feet wide and eight feet tall leans against the far wall. Long ago, I made a makeshift fort with a folded blanket behind it and my emergency bottle of water. It’s just big enough for Princess and I to crawl behind and hide when we’re scared.
I fumble my way through the darkness and hurry up the stairs toward my room. Quietly, I shut the door behind me and pad over to my closet. I’m still topless, so I reach blindly along the wall until I find what feels like a shirt. Once I pull it off the hanger, I realize it’s just a zip up jacket but it will have to do, even though it feels like it’s a hundred degrees in this closet. I finally manage to figure out the zipper and zip it up to cover my tits. Earlier, I left my jean shorts in the middle of the floor, so I kick my foot around until I find them and pick them up.
I pause when I hear what seems to be a commotion going on outside. Seconds later, I hear banging. Moans and shrieks can be heard from beyond the walls. Every hair on my fairly smooth body stands on end. Yanking on my shorts, I fasten them and dash over to the mirror. It’s a tight fit, but I crawl under and scoop Princess into my lap. The poor dog is shaking like a leaf.
“Shhh, everything will be okay,” I whisper and kiss her head. It is so fucking hot in here, but I don’t dare move. Sweat trickles its way between my breasts and down my back. Early on, I packed a suitcase in the event I ever needed to bolt in a hurry which sits close to the mirror. I reach out and slide my expensive, rolling Louis Vuitton suitcase to hide one end of my cave. Inside, I’ve packed some clothes, necessities, a little food and water, and toiletries. When I had packed it, I’d hoped it would be the bag I took with me to a hotel to recuperate from roughing it—I even had gym clothes because the first thing I was doing once I got there was hitting the treadmill. Right now, though, I feel like it might be my survival kit.
A loud smash startles me from my thoughts, and Princess and I both whimper. Someone is in my house. I try to still my breathing so I can listen better. My poor dog is so terrified, her entire body shakes. With each of her quivers, her collar jingles loudly. Blindly, I grope around her neck to look for the snap to release it. Loud pounding up the stairs can be heard as I attempt to get her collar off before she gives our location away. I’ve just unclicked it when my bedroom door is kicked in with a crash. Softly, I ease the collar away from her and sit it down beside me.
I bite back a terrified yelp when I hear smashing, most likely my lamps and decorations on my dressers. From the sounds of it, there are several people in my home rifling through my things. They can take all of it for all I care—just get the fuck out of my house!
An unearthly groan from the other room effectively stops my heart. When I hear a rippling croaking from inside my closet responding to it, my eyes bug out of my head. They are coming in here with us. Shit!
Even though I’m about to suffocate from the heat and my overwhelming fear, I force myself to breathe as quietly as possible. My heart has thrummed back to life and is rapidly beating out of control. Princess buries her face into my chest, sensing the impending danger. I hear several coat hangers snap from the rods and I tense up. If they start destroying things in here, the mirror will most likely be first on their list.
The creepy-ass croaking begins again, this time closer. It feels as if the entire closet is pulsating with some demonic undertone. I’m fucking scared as hell. Who the hell are these people? Why aren’t they talking? I don’t even see flashlights so they’re making their way through the dark very efficiently for blinded people.
I slowly exhale the breath I was holding and try to stop it from rushing out loudly.
One of them grunts and they all become eerily quiet. The croaking begins again, this time on the other side of my suitcase; I’m overwhelmed by the stench of body odor and rotten meat. A scream holds poised in my throat, ready to release as the suitcase rattles. I’m trying desperately to remain as still as possible.
Please don’t find us.
Aster
I watch them from my belly in the grass with my binoculars sighted on them. Them. That’s what I refer to them as. I don’t know what the fuck they are, but they’re wicked. Eight years I served this country, walked the ends of the earth, fought in pointless wars, but not once did I ever encounter anything so fucking wrong.
Looking back, three months ago, I remember when the outbreak began. I’d just stepped off the plane from Afghanistan after two tours with only three things on my mind: food, fucking, and sleep. I’d been denied all three for way too long and was ready to indulge. Unfortunately, I never partook in any of them because shit immediately hit the fan.
A flu epidemic, much worse than the swine flu, was sweeping across our nation. It was sudden and presented symptoms quickly. Newscasters were pleading for everyone to stay indoors, avoid contact with others, and quarantine the sick. One thing was made clear as day: there was no vaccination, there was no cure. The infected did one of two things. They either died a quick death as their heart stopped beating in their chest.
Or.
Or they became something else. They became them.
At first, people screamed from the mountaintops that we were faced with a zombie apocalypse. Unfortunately, this was far worse. What we were facing was something unprecedented. We weren’t capable of understanding what they were so we could put a stop to the spread of the disease. Instead, we watched helplessly as it spread like wildfire throughout the world.
It was airborne.
I spent weeks holed up in my apartment only venturing out to raid empty apartments for food. But when the electricity went out for good, I knew I had to seek better shelter. A few days before the power went out, the news spoke of safe zones. They claimed that some people were simply immune to the disease. There were people that were gathering at these safe zones in an attempt to feel safety in numbers and get a handle on how to move forward. The closest one to me is in Vancouver. It’s a fuck long journey, but I have no other choice. If I were to stay, I would inevitably be hunted by them.
I think I’m immune. Or, I’ve just been lucky and haven’t been exposed. I’ve been careful and wear my respirator masks whenever I leave whatever shelter I may be in at the time. It is imperative that I keep moving, collecting supplies as I go. Staying in one place for too long is dangerous. They seek and destroy. They find those that hide. My goal is to stay two steps ahead of them. To always be watching them so that they aren’t watching me.
My goal is to survive.
A gurgling, high pitched moan, most likely from a woman or child, pierces the night air. There’s a horde of them and they’re ransacking one of the homes on the hill. When I’d stumbled upon these homes, I knew it was possible I could replenish my supplies. So far, I’d stocked my bag with a few bottles of water, some painkillers, and a bottle of Crown. The Crown was a selfish impulse grab, but fuck, sometimes a man needs a stiff drink to take the edge off.
I’d also found some unused toothbrushes, an almost full tube of toothpaste, and a roll of toilet paper. Might not sound like much but in this chaotic world, they are joyous luxuries.
A groan to my left snaps me from my happy thoughts of using toilet paper next time I take a shit. It’s one of them.
He’s limping, most likely injured in one of his insane acts. I can smell its stink from here and force down a gag. When the wind gusts slightly and rustles the trees, I hold still. Those motherfuckers have the senses of fucking hound dogs.
And just like I knew he would, his head snaps in my direction and he sniffs the air. Another groan escapes him, but this one, I know from experience is a call. Fuck. I haven’t had much hand to hand combat with them, but the ones I’ve had to come in contact with are strong as hell. I’ve barely made the decision that I’ll have to kill his ass, and have rolled onto my back, when he comes barreling across the grass in my direction and body slams me with the force of a linebacker, knocking the breath out of me.
His overgrown nails dig into my throat as he begins choking me. I’m mildly stunned but quickly react. You don’t spend eight years as a Marine and not know how to handle yourself while being attacked. As much as I want to scream, I keep my lips tight. For as good as they can smell, they can hear even better. The slightest peep will send that horde after me within seconds.
In the moonlight, I get a good look at his face. The black dilated pupils glare hatefully down at me. His skin is pale and oily, deep scratches line his cheeks from self-infliction. They’re all the same. I’m still not quite sure what it is they want. What they crave. It’s different with all of them. Most just annihilate whatever’s in their path. Some eat from the flesh of humans and animals. Others eat rubber and trash, or grass and pinecones.
My eyes black out momentarily, but when he bares his teeth at me, I realize he’s one that consumes upon the living. With one hand pushing against his incredibly strong body, I grab at my leg with the other until I come in contact with my hunting knife. Quickly, I unclip it and yank it from its sheath. His teeth snap together just inches from my nose, and I know my time is running out. I’m already weakening against his strength and he’ll overpower me soon.
When he coughs and disgusting saliva runs from his mouth, I thank God I’m wearing my mask. It pours all over my face and I nearly vomit from the revolting smell. In the beginning, I was just sure the key to killing these fuckers was stabbing them in the brain. Maybe I watched too many zombie movies in the past but it seemed like a good start. However, it didn’t take long to discover that wasn’t the way to end them.
You go for the heart.
I roll hard to the right and pin him beneath me. I don’t waste a second as I raise my knife and plunge it forcefully in the center part of his upper chest. A gurgled gasp escapes him. I twist the knife, hoping to accelerate his death. In his final breath, he sprays bloody chunky shit right in my face. In my fucking eyes!
His body immediately loses its power and becomes a lifeless heap. I yank the knife from his chest and shove it back into the sheath on my leg before I set to removing the blood from my face. Scrambling off of him, I half crawl over to my bag and remove one of my precious bottles of water. After twisting the cap off, I lean my head back and pour the water into my eyes, hoping to rinse the infected blood from me. I waste every fucking drop cleaning my face. When it’s gone, I rip the mask off my face and gulp in the fresh air.
My chest heaves from exertion and fear. I’m infected now. There’s no way I’m not.
I lie in the grass and look up at the sky, waiting for the symptoms to begin. From experience, watching those in my building, I know the symptoms are almost immediate. First, it’s the coughing. It becomes uncontrollable. Then, the vomiting. And finally, the rage.
The minutes pass and after what must be about ten minutes I thank my lucky stars that I might truly be one of the lucky ones.
I am immune.
I’m about to grab my bag and hide out in one of the homes until daybreak when I hear it. The scream. A woman’s scream. And it’s coming from the house that the horde is ransacking.
Fuck.
There’s too few uninfected people for me not to try and help. And even though I want to run for the hills, far from the army of them, I know I can’t. I won’t. I serve and protect. It’s engrained in me.
Rolling to my stomach, I quickly make my way to my knees and dig through my bag until I find the hammer I keep around for emergencies. Tonight constitutes as an emergency. I sling my backpack onto my back, preparing myself to run. My fingers shake as I grip the rubber handle and I sprint toward the BMW parked in the street. When I make it to the car, I slam the hammer into the window, smashing glass everywhere.
Here comes the Calvary.
Obnoxious wailing from the car alarm tears through the silent night. I dash off to the right and make my way toward the edge of the property.
I need to get over the fucking fence. Spying a tree near the house, I run toward it and grab onto a low hanging branch. I hoist myself up and climb high enough to where I can reach the roof. My strength may be lower than normal due to lack of food and nourishment, but I’m still a fucking Marine. I clamber up over the edge and stand up once my feet make purchase.
From my vantage point, I watch about twenty of them burst from the house. Some land in the pool, but easily swim to the other side and climb out. They mount the wall and heave themselves over as if climbing a ten foot fence is nothing. Each and every one of them is after the sound. With each passing second my time is running short. Those car batteries are weak from lack of use and only last a short while. I run along the rooftop until I come across a ledge that drops down onto a balcony on the second floor. I waste no time as I scoot off the edge and jump the several feet to the balcony floor.
My boots crunch some leaves underfoot and I curse inwardly, knowing the slight sound could have alerted any of the ones close by. I sigh in relief when I stand and try the handle on the French door and discover it’s unlocked. Stealthily, I slip inside the door and listen for signs of life. Yanking my flashlight from my pocket, I switch it on and survey what appears to be a master bedroom.
A hissing noise from the closet sends me hurtling in that direction. The door is open and one of them stands in the doorway with her back to me. Long tangled black hair hangs down her back. Her slender arm is extended and she’s clutching a blond woman, a seemingly uninfected woman, by the throat. With her other hand she’s stroking the blonde’s hair as if she’s a doll. The poor blond woman’s eyes are about to bug out of her head in fear.
I’m going to surprise attack the thing, but as I’m jerking my knife from my jeans, she snaps her head toward me. She drops the girl quick as lightening and lunges for me. Even though she is, was, whatever the fuck, a woman, the infection only strengthened her. In a past life, I could have swatted a woman of her size away with the back of my hand.
But not them.
They are all stronger than hell and a struggle to fight off. When she tackles me, my flashlight hits the carpet and rolls away, temporarily blinding me. Her snarls are vicious as she attempts to choke me. Gripping the handle of my knife tightly, I plunge it into the side of her head. She weakens her grip on me, but continues to attack. I drive the knife farther into her skull and push my entire weight with it, so that I flip her over. She scratches and hisses at me as I yank the knife out of her skull. Raising it above my head, I forcefully slam it into her chest. As the life leaves her body and she’s left with nothing but final twitches, I climb off of her and grab my flashlight.
Stalking over to the closet I look back inside, but the girl is gone.
“Fuck,” I grumble under my breath.
I’m about to leave the closet to look for her when the mirror on the far wall shakes. My heart thuds in my chest at the prospect of one of those damn things hiding behind it—especially a child. The children are the worst to encounter. It isn’t until they’re trying to gouge your eyeballs out with their fingers, or rip the hair from your head, that you remember they aren’t children anymore.
They are one of them.
Keeping a good grip on my now dripping with blood knife, I tiptoe over to the mirror and shine my light behind it. Wide terror-filled blue eyes stare back at me. A small dog whimpers when it sees me.
“Come on, let’s go. They’ll be back any minute,” I instruct in a low tone, holding my hand out to her.
“We can hide,” she hisses. “Just lock the door to the closet.”
Reaching behind the mirror, I grab hold of her wrist and haul her out. I can tell she’s about to yell at me to let her go or some shit, so I slap my hand over her mouth and twist her around so that her back is pressed against my chest. The light of my flashlight dances all over the closet and reflects upon the mirror as I struggle to keep her quiet. When I look down over her shoulder, I see she’s holding on to the fucking quivering-ass dog for dear life.
“You have to be quiet. They can hear really well. These things are hunters. Now that they know you’re here, they won’t stop until they have you. Cooperate and let’s get the fuck out of here,” I order.
She nods, and I feel tears wet my fingers that have run from her eyes down along her cheeks. I release her and motion for her to follow me. It’s time to get the fuck out of here before they come back and swarm us.
And they always come back.