Sometimes We Ran (Book 1) Read online

  Sometimes We Ran

  A Story From the Zombie Apocalypse

  Stephen Drivick

  This book is for sale at http://leanpub.com/SometimesWeRan

  This version was published on 2013-05-23

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  This is a Leanpub book. Leanpub empowers authors and publishers with the Lean Publishing process. Lean Publishing is the act of publishing an in-progress ebook using lightweight tools and many iterations to get reader feedback, pivot until you have the right book and build traction once you do.

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  © 2013 Stephen Drivick

  To Mom for always telling me to take chances.

  Table of Contents

  Prologue

  How It All Started

  Chapter 1

  Sightseeing

  Chapter 2

  Another Day On the Road

  Chapter 3

  Claire

  Chapter 4

  Then There Was Two

  Chapter 5

  My New Companion …A Real Live Human

  Chapter 6

  That Night in the Jewelry Store

  Chapter 7

  Rules of the Road

  Chapter 8

  Meet the New Red-Eyes

  Chapter 9

  Possible Sanctuary

  Chapter 10

  Mollie’s Place

  Chapter 11

  That Night in the Department Store

  Chapter 12

  A Short Rest Before the Horror

  Chapter 13

  The Escape From Mollie’s Place

  Chapter 14

  Rainy Days

  Chapter 15

  The Firehouse

  Chapter 16

  Don’t Trust Anyone

  Chapter 17

  The Scooter

  Chapter 18

  The Highwaymen

  Chapter 19

  Rescuing Claire

  Chapter 20

  The Accident

  Chapter 21

  Back Among the Dead

  Prologue

  How It All Started

  “It’s not the end of the world.”

  Dennis Armstrong murmured to himself as he crossed into the ornate lobby of his Dallas hotel. He had just gotten in from a business trip to Paris, and he was beat. His flight had been diverted twice: once for a sick pilot, and another time for some trouble with the plane’s engines. Dennis spent two hours in the terminal of some out-of-the-way airport in Spain with a crazy lady running around screaming and attacking people. He even tried to calm her down, and all he got for his trouble was a gaping hole in his arm where she bit him. The large-breasted airport security lady had apologized profusely as she bandaged the wound. The urge to scratch under the bandage was driving him crazy, but he knew he had to leave it alone or it wouldn’t heal. Dennis would worry about it later. Right now, he just hoped the hotel still had his reservation.

  It was all worth it though, because tomorrow Dennis was going to be a very rich man. He sold used computer parts to customers around the world. His business partner and best friend, Jeff, had come up with this great idea to take apart broken computers and resell the good components. They started the company last year, with Jeff as the technical guy and Dennis as the sales muscle. Dennis was really good at selling stuff. Whether it was cars or refrigerators or used computer parts, Dennis could always talk them into buying more.

  The French deal had been very lucrative, but the upcoming Chinese deal was going to blow it out of the water. Dennis had convinced some Chinese businessmen to buy most of his stock at a considerable profit. With this deal, Dennis might be able to take the rest of the year off. All he had to do was impress them at tomorrow’s meeting and he was all set.

  Right now though, all he wanted to do was lie down for a little sleep. He had started feeling sick on the plane and now, here in Dallas, he felt worse. Even now he could feel his sinuses closing up, and his throat was a little sore. He just needed a little sleep and aspirin, and then he would be good as new in the morning.

  “Next?”

  Dennis walked up to the hotel’s check-in desk with his credit card in hand. He handed the card to the cute brunette clerk who was smiling ear to ear. Dennis attempted some small talk. “Hey. How’s it going?”

  “It’s going great,” she said with a little Texas drawl. “Okay Mr. Armstrong. We have a single room with a king-sized bed and no smoking. Right?”

  “Right. Put it on my company credit card.” He noticed her name was Cindi.

  Her shirt was unbuttoned at the top, showing her wonderful cleavage as she typed like a madman on the desk terminal. Dennis thought he might invite her back to his room for a little post-business-deal romp in the sack. It would have to be after the deal though.

  Business before pleasure, you know.

  Cindi, the bodacious hotel clerk, handed Dennis back his credit card. “Okay, Mr. Armstrong. Your room is 1021. It’s on the tenth floor.” She put the electronic keys in a small paper folder, wrote the number down, and then handed it to Dennis. “Do you need any help with your bags?”

  “No, I can manage. Thanks.” His attention turned to the flat-screen television hanging on the wall behind Cindi. It was tuned into one of the cable news channels. The Egyptians were at it again. The screen was plastered with horrible scenes of sand-colored tanks attacking buildings and stern-faced soldiers clashing with civilians on the streets of Cairo. It looked like a real mess.

  Dennis started getting his bags together. “How long has that been going on in Egypt?” he asked Cindi.

  The pretty hotel clerk looked at the screen. “Oh, the Egypt thing. It’s been going on all day. Terrible stuff. There were even reports of people biting each other. Imagine that.”

  “Biting?” Dennis walked away, shaking his head and rubbing his own bite wound. He never heard of people biting each other in a civil war.

  The ride up to the tenth floor was uneventful, but by the time Dennis got to his room, he knew he was sick. The general aches and pains in his tired body had become little swords of fire in his joints. His sinuses were now full and hurting, and his skin was warm and clammy with fever. He felt like death.

  After two tries, Dennis finally got the key to work. He stepped inside the room, and found it adequate.

  Usually, when Dennis got to his hotel room, he would crank the air conditioning, flick on the TV, and kick back and relax. However, all he wanted to do now was curl up on the king-sized bed, and go to sleep. The AC would stay off tonight. Even though Dennis was burning with a low-grade fever, he was chilled to the bone.

  Dennis threw his bags on the floor, kicked off his expensive shoes, and sat on the bed. He was so cold all of a sudden. He pulled the comforter off the bed, and wrapped it around his shoulders. It warmed him up a little bit, but he still shivered. It was time for a little medicine.

  Dennis got up off the bed, and moved stiffly towards his luggage on the floor. He extracted his sweat pants, a white undershirt, his toiletries, and a large bottle of aspirin. Dennis was going to change, and then get some sleep.

  Dennis moved slowly to the bathroom. He felt like an old man as he walked. This flu was really killing him. A couple of times, he had to stop and steady himself when he felt dizzy. He made it to the bathroom, changed into his sweats and undershirt, and took some of the generic aspirin. He was even able to brush his teeth and swirl a little mouthwash to kill the horrible sick taste in his mouth. He spit, and then looked at himself in the mirror.

  “Jesus Christ!”

  Dennis looked horrible. His skin had an awful gray pallor, and his eyes had turned a little red. He touched his face, not believing the reflection looking back at him. In the harsh light o
f the tiny hotel bathroom, he looked like some sort of monster. Dennis then felt a sneeze coming on.

  He grabbed a tissue just as the sneeze exploded from his nose and throat. As he sneezed, he felt something slide out his nose, and land in the tissue. It also dripped onto the counter, and into the sink. Dennis blew his nose, coughed a little, then pulled the tissue away from his face to see the damage.

  The tissue was covered in blood.

  Dennis yelped and put the tissue back to his nose. It was still bleeding lightly. He was beginning to panic. He tried to make himself walk out to the phone and call for help, but he couldn’t seem to make his legs work. Instead, he sat on the toilet lid with a tissue on his nose trying to stop the nosebleed.

  After about fifteen minutes, the bleeding stopped. Dennis felt weak and very sick, but he thought he’d be okay. The worst seemed to be over. He dragged himself out of the bathroom and lay down on the bed. He was burning with fever, and his mind was fuzzy. It was hard to focus.

  Dennis found the television remote, and turned on the rather large flat-screen in the room. He flipped around checking out all the channels. The crisis in Egypt dominated the news. The situation had gotten worse, and the military had now declared martial law. Some recorded footage showed bloodied civilians swarming a government outpost. The attackers were biting some of the soldiers. Egypt had gone to hell.

  Dennis flipped around to some other channels. There was more weird news; China was in the grip of a huge blackout, some city in Russia was having a civil emergency, and in London there were reports of some maniac in a subway station who was biting people on the neck. The whole world had gone nuts.

  Dennis flipped around till he found a boring old movie. It was just the thing to put him to sleep so he could rest. Before he went to dreamland, he decided to call his business partner Jeff, who was flying in tomorrow for the meeting. Dennis knew he was too sick to meet the Chinese guys.

  It took all of Dennis’s strength to dial his cellphone. The numbers swam before his eyes. After about threes tries, he finally dialed Jeff’s number. His voice mail picked up.

  After the beep, Dennis left his message. “Yeah… hey Jeff. It’s Dennis. I’m in Dallas. Look, I… I, uh, I’m sick with some sort of flu. You’ll have to meet the Chinese guys by yourself tomorrow, okay? Just come up to room 1021 and get the sales presentation. You’ll do okay. The Chinese dudes like you. If I feel better, I’ll join you. Okay? Any uh, questions, just give me a call.” It took all of Dennis’s concentration to leave the message. His mind was so foggy. He felt truly awful, and was feeling worse by the minute. Dennis felt weak, stuffed up, and wrung out.

  He was also consumed by hunger.

  It wasn’t a normal hunger. Dennis almost felt like he was starving. It was almost like he was dying. It clawed at him like a wild animal. Dennis had never felt anything quite like this. He was even salivating.

  Dennis rolled over and tried to sleep. The fever had gotten worse, and he could taste blood in his mouth. “Just got to get some sleep. I’ll be okay in the morning,” Dennis said to himself, as he turned off the light. It would be the last words he ever spoke before drifting off into a deep, dreamless slumber.

  Many hours later, Dennis was up and walking around the room. Except it wasn’t quite Dennis anymore. He had died a few minutes after midnight. It had been a tortuous death, full of fever, low moaning, bleeding, and convulsions. After a few hours of suffering, he finally stopped breathing and laid quiet.

  Dennis stayed dead for about eighteen minutes.

  At about twenty minutes past midnight, the body that had formerly been Dennis rose from the king-sized bed and started walking around the hotel room. He shambled around making a low groaning sound. There was no pulse, no heartbeat, and very slow and shallow breathing.

  He was hungry.

  The dead body that had been Dennis walked around the room looking for a meal. The hunger began to consume him, so he started moaning louder. By this time, his eyes were glowing a sinister red.

  It was now after eight o’ clock in the morning, and the city was waking up. The sunlight streamed in through the open blinds, and filled the room with light. The intense, morning light hurt the creature’s eyes. It turned away from the window and faced the door.

  “Housekeeping!” A maid called out from the hallway. She had a heavy Russian accent. The walking corpse perked up its ears, and then lifted its head to catch a scent. It took a long sniff, and the maid’s scent filled its nostrils. It could smell her flesh. It even caught a good whiff of her blood. It was a wonderful smell. Salty, a little like the ocean. The creature began to salivate in anticipation of some tasty meat.

  The corpse that had formerly been Dennis Armstrong, star salesman, walked towards the door. It curled its lip up in a smirk, till it looked like a little smile. The meal was on the other side, just waiting to be eaten.

  The lock beeped, and the handle started to turn. The maid was coming in. After all, the “Do Not Disturb” sign was not on the door. The creature waited for the right time to strike.

  The maid opened the door, and walked in with her vacuum cleaner ready. She was looking down, getting her supplies out. “Housekeeping. I clean now,” she said, looking up to speak to the hotel guest. She had been taught by management to look guests in the eye. The maid took one look at those cold, dead eyes and started to scream. She was cut short by teeth ripping into her throat. The creature pulled the limp body of the maid into the hotel room, and began to feed in peace.

  The zombie apocalypse had come to the United States.

  Chapter 1

  Sightseeing

  Of all the things you could find on the road during a zombie apocalypse, the undead kids were always the worst.

  I mean, the regular undead and the dogs were bad enough, but the kid versions really messed with your head. I watched from my hiding place among the gas pumps as the little walking corpse shambled around the parking lot. She had been a little girl, really cute and adorable. Her dress, or what remained of her dress, was a little pink frilly job with lace at the neck. She dragged her right leg behind her. The foot was nearly chewed off, and the bones were exposed. Her chest cavity was pretty much gone, and her lower jaw was missing. The only sound she could make was a horrible gurgling sound, like someone was pouring milk down her throat as she was trying to scream.

  What was she, seven, eight years old? Damn shame. She’s never going to grow up, go to school, or dance at a prom.

  Never going to bring home a boy that pisses off her Dad.

  I noticed she was clutching a headless doll. It was blood stained and extremely filthy. I think that detail unsettled me most of all. Sometimes you see the dead walking around clutching the last thing they ever touched. It could be an empty gun from their last battle, or a steak knife, or even something as mundane as a coffee cup. The kids usually have a teddy bear or some other favorite toy in their cold, dead hands.

  The headless doll was a new one. I’d never seen a zombie holding one before.

  I watched for a few more minutes. She didn’t notice me among the gas pumps, so I guess she was pretty far gone. Usually these zombies catch on to fresh meat pretty quick and come running for a quick meal.

  I knew what I had to do. I knew I had to put her down before she drew more of her undead friends to the gas station. I drew my gun and stepped out from my hiding place to put the little bastard out of her misery. She noticed me and began that horrible noise they all make. It’s usually a high pitched squeal, or a low, menacing growl. Without her lower jaw, though, it was more of a low gurgle that raised goose bumps on my arm. No matter how many of these things I put down, that sound still causes the the little hairs on my neck to stand up.

  Then there’s the eyes. They are usually yellow or red. The yellows are more common, but it’s the rare reds that could be a problem. They’re more violent and hungry, and will attack on sight. With Red-Eyes, you shoot first and run away quickly.

  And you better hit them in the
head. It’s the only way to put them down. Just like in the movies. Sometimes that doesn’t even work on the first try.

  One of her eyes was gone; the other was yellow. She raised the arm without the doll and started dragging herself over to me, very slowly.

  Sometimes these things can be pretty fast. I recall an incident with one a few weeks ago. It was a soccer mom, I think. I stumbled on her in another parking lot somewhere long ago. For a minute, I thought she was a survivor, until I saw her dead, yellow eyes and the fresh blood on her designer clothes. She had been feeding. Her victim was a younger girl, a teenager. I hoped it wasn’t her daughter. Maybe her meal had been part of her carpool or something.

  She was one of the fast ones. As soon as she saw me, she made an unholy shriek and ran in my direction. I was ready, and took her out with my rifle. It took two shots. I missed on the first, and hit her in the shoulder. The second shot got her right between the eyes. She was going so fast, she actually ran for a few more steps before falling. I put a bullet in her last meal too, just in case.

  The little girl zombie at the gas station wasn’t going anywhere fast. She could barely move under her own power. Besides her mangled right foot, most of the bones and muscles in her legs and lower extremities were either broken or missing. As I approached, I circled around her to assess the situation. The best she could do was turn slightly and moan. She was too far gone to be able to chase me.