Zomb-Pocalypse Read online

  “Wait…what?” I manage to get out before all four of us are accosted by the soldiers. They frisk us and strip us of all our weaponry.

  “Ladies, this way please,” Nichols points to the right side of a doorway that looks like the entrance to a girls change room, and we all look to Ryan for guidance.

  “What?” Ryan asks, looking downright riotous to hear that we are being separated. “No way!”

  “You will be reunited after inspection,” Nichols says with a stone face. I can’t begin to tell if he’s lying or not.

  Ryan takes a step towards us, but three bulky soldiers step in to intervene.

  “Will you go willingly?” Nichols asks.

  By his mutinous expression, I can tell what Ryan’s answer is going to be.

  “Hell no!” Ryan spits out, going toe to toe with Nichols.

  Nichols looks resigned as he nods to one of his soldiers who then uses the butt end of his rifle to hit Ryan in the stomach.

  Ryan doubles over with a grunt of pain, and the soldiers use the opportunity to drag him into the change room labeled boys.

  I take a step forward, but then stop and look at Lieutenant Nichols.

  “Are we going to have an issue ladies?” he asks with an arched brow

  In unison, the three of us shake our heads. My mind is racing a mile a minute, but I can tell that disobedience will not be tolerated.

  “Go inside that room and take your clothes off,” Nichols commands, using his gun to point to the female locker room. Hearts pounding, the three of us are pushed inside, and I begin to wonder if we were safer out in that field with all the zombies.

  Chapter Eight

  We burst through the door, shaking and terrified about what we will find on the other side. No one has ever brusquely told me to take off my clothes from the business end of a high-powered assault rifle before. We stand huddled tightly together in a group, expecting the worst. It takes my eyes a minute to adjust to the bright artificial lights, and I briefly wonder how they even have electricity. I blink and notice a woman standing inside, smiling at us. I hold my breath, waiting to see if the soldiers are going to follow us in, but they don’t.

  I stare at the pretty blonde woman. She is wearing a pair of jeans, a turtle neck sweater, and, of all the ridiculous things to wear during a zombie apocalypse, a pair of red high heels. I make a snap judgement that the three of us can probably take her.

  “What’s going on?” Megan demands, and the woman’s smile melts off her face.

  “Lieutenant Nichols didn’t explain our procedures to you?” she questions.

  Megan shrugs.

  “He pointed his gun at us and told us to come in here and take our clothes off,” Abby uncharacteristically speaks up, looking just as pissed off as I am feeling.

  “And they hit our friend with their gun and drug him off somewhere,” I add my own two cents, worry for Ryan eating me up inside.

  The woman at least has the decency to look horrified. “I apologize for him. I’ve talked to them several times about the way that they greet civilians, but until the twenty four hours of confinement, it’s like you guys aren’t even real people to them.” The woman blushes and looks up at us. It is obvious that she hadn’t meant to say all that stuff out loud.

  “I hope we can start fresh. My name is Miriam, and I am the civilian coordinator for the women that arrive at Camp Freedom. The Lieutenant doesn’t always communicate the right way, but I promise you, his heart is in the right place. I will speak to the Captain about his behavior. Your friend will not be harmed further, I can guarantee it. Right now he is in the next room with the civilian coordinator for the males. He is going to be doing exactly what you are doing, and I promise ya’ll will be reunited within the half hour.” She points to some fluffy towels that sit folded on the bench.

  “First thing’s first girls, we require that all civilians that enter Camp Freedom decontaminate.” Miriam rightly reads the fear in our eyes and lets out a little laugh. “Sorry girls, didn’t mean to scare you, that just means have a nice hot shower and scrub really good.”

  “Did you just say hot shower?” Megan’s head snaps around to look at the rows of shower stalls that line the west wall of the changing room.

  Miriam’s smile gets even wider. “I did,” she confirms, pointing toward the showers. “I just need to take your clothes to get washed so that they aren’t bringing in outside germs, there are robes beside the towels.”

  I don’t know if we should one hundred percent trust this women, but those men out there used to be the US Army. Maybe they still are.

  “Might as well get a hot shower out of it, if they’re going to kill us anyway,” I mutter, causing Abby and Megan to give me an appalled look. I grab my towel and housecoat and leave them outside the shower stall of my choice. Stripping, I throw all my grimy clothes out under the door and turn on the water.

  Hot water and steam surrounds me. I close my eyes for a long minute and let myself enjoy it. I have never taken the time to really appreciate the small comforts of modern society, but after a week on the road encrusted with zombie guts and only having ice cold water to wash it off with…I am sure appreciating it now!

  I find a bunch of those little hotel shampoos, conditioners, and soap bars sitting on the ledge of the shower and scrub myself until I’m bright red and my skin feels tight. When the water finally starts to turn cold, I turn off the taps with a feeling of resignation. I have no idea when I might get another hot shower. I’m still not sure how I managed to get this one.

  When I emerge, Megan is already out of the shower and wrapped in her own white robe. Abby follows me out within two minutes. We sit in silence in the steamy changing room for a few minutes before the door opens and Miriam walks in, bringing a gust of cool air with her.

  “Feeling better?” she asks cheerfully.

  We all nod, though we still don’t know if we should trust her.

  “Great.” She obviously isn’t going to let our sombre moods bring her down. “Your clothes will take a few hours, but you can keep the robes until you get them back. Now, if you will follow me…,” Miriam turns and motions for us to exit the changing room through a set doors opposite the ones we had entered.

  My heart starts pounding in my chest, this is it—the moment we find out what they are really going to do to us. We walk out the door and into a large gymnasium that has a lot of cages set up. They are made up of joined sections of chain link fence. My eyes take in the twelve-foot fence sections lined with deadly looking razor wire across the top, and I stop walking.

  Miriam turns to us with an appeasing smile. “It’s not as bad you think. Everyone must spend a mandatory twenty four hours in isolation. If no symptoms of the disease are present in that time, then you are free to join our general population.”

  “Screw that,” Megan spits out, edging her way back towards the change room doors. Soldiers move in quickly and block off our escape route.

  “Please, this doesn’t have to be unpleasant. This is for our protection, and yours. We were letting everyone in, at the beginning…but some of the people started changing because they had been infected on the outside. We lost a lot of people.” Miriam’s eyes plead with us to understand. “It’s only for twenty four hours.”

  My eyes suddenly catch movement in the nearest cage. I see Ryan standing against the wire, watching us. He looked freshly showered, with his dark hair slicked back, and he’s wearing a robe, just like us.

  “Ryan,” I run over to him, and he smiles at us.

  I register the clanking of a chain, and then I’m being grabbed from behind and forced into the cage with Ryan. Megan and Abby are unceremoniously tossed in behind me by a pair of burly soldiers.

  “I will be back shortly with some dinner,” Miriam says, giving us an apologetic look before disappearing out the door with a click of her red high heels.

  “Was that chick just wearing high heels?” Ryan asks, staring after Miriam like she’s nuts.

 
I nod before turning away to look around our twelve-by-twelve cage. It has four tiny cots with blankets squashed along the edges and a small, foldable card table with a few mismatched chairs in the middle. I see a shower curtain hanging in the corner and walk over to pull it aside. There’s a small, portable camping toilet sitting inside. It’s clean, but I still wrinkle my nose up. There is no way I am going to use that thing!

  I go back and join the others at the table.

  “Do you think they’re telling the truth?” Megan asks.

  We all sober as we think about it for a minute.

  “I think they might be,” I decide after a minute of deliberation. “They already have us, we have no weapons, and can’t do anything to defend ourselves…why keep lying about letting us go in twenty four hours? Even if they said they were going to shoot us in the head in twenty four hours, we can’t escape this place.”

  I’m not sure that my words illicit the comforting effect I was going for.

  “I think we should save our energy, just in case,” Ryan says wisely, and I agree.

  It’s pretty boring in the cage. There isn’t anything to do, and not a lot of space to do it anyway. An hour later, just like she promised, Miriam comes back with a few soldiers carrying a large tray. One soldier unlocks the door while another one aims his rifle at us. The third soldier enters with Miriam while she sets down the tray.

  My stomach growls loudly at the delicious smells that are wafting up from the large bowl. “Everyone feeling okay?” Miriam asks, her eyes roaming over our bodies for any sign of infection.

  “We feel fine,” Megan answers for all of us.

  Miriam flashes her ten-thousand-watt smile once more before leaving with a heavy clank. The chains are put back, locking us in once more.

  Ryan lifts the lid, and we see that it’s some kind of meaty stew with an entire loaf of bread to accompany it. Abby grabs the spoon and dishes a big helping onto one of the plastic plates they have provided.

  “Do you think you should eat that?” Megan asks her, obviously suspicious.

  Abby shrugs. “I’m so hungry that I don’t care anymore,” she says. I watch her take the first bite with my breath held. She closes her eyes and moans, and I about jump out of my skin.

  “What’s wrong?” I can’t help demanding.

  Abby opens her eyes and gives me a funny look. “It’s really good,” she tells me in her best “duh” voice.

  Ryan helps himself next, ripping off a large chunk of the homemade bread—they haven’t given us a knife, for obvious reasons. Megan goes next, and then, fingers shaking, I help myself too.

  It is really good. It has only been a week since the outbreak started, but already the simplest things like hot showers and home-cooked meals are becoming a rare treat. We eat two helpings each and pick away until the entire loaf of bread is gone. It seems wrong to waste it. There are also a couple bottles of water, but I’m determined to stay far away from the camp toilet, so I don’t touch them.

  We eat and then lay in our cots; there isn’t anything else to do. I start to drift off when the sound of shouting has me sitting up in a hurry.

  The others are awake already too. We all get up and stand against the section of fence that faces the change rooms. Two men are fighting with the soldiers. As we watched in horror, one of the soldiers pulls a Taser from his belt and zaps first one man and then the other. The two men go down twitching, and the soldiers don’t waste any time picking them up and tossing them into the cage next to ours.

  The two men sit on the floor for a bit before the first one gets up on shaky legs and gives his friend a hand up. “You can’t keep us here like this!” he yells defiantly at the soldiers, but they only turn and walk away.

  I stare in fascination. The two men are like us, wearing robes. Their hair is still wet from the shower. As we stare at them, one of the guys looks over and notices us.

  “Hey,” the guy elbows his buddy and points us out. I watch the other man’s eyes go wide when he sees that they aren’t alone in being held captive.

  “Do you know what’s happening?” The first man asks anxiously as he grips the crisscrossing chain link and presses his face against it, causing it to bow slightly.

  “No idea. Same as you, we’re locked up in here,” Ryan speaks for the group, stating the obvious.

  “They say we just have to stay here for twenty four hours. As long as we’re not sick, they’ll let us go.” I supply.

  Both men look skeptical. “They told us the same thing,” they admit.

  “Where are you guys from?” Ryan interrupts him, and I perk up. I am curious as well.

  “Columbus.” I can tell by the clipped way he says it that he doesn’t want to talk about his home, but Ryan either doesn’t pick up on it, or ignores it.

  “And?” he presses, and a pained look crosses both men’s faces.

  “And nothing, it’s gone. Almost everyone is dead and still walking around.” The second man begins to weep openly, and I’m sure he must have lost someone close to him.

  “I’m sorry,” Ryan murmurs to them, looking truly sorry. “We came from Pennsylvania, and it was the same thing.”

  The man who isn’t sobbing nods. “The world has gone to hell…literally.”

  “Settle down!” a guard shouts at us from across the gymnasium.

  The lights are unexpectedly flipped, and the room is bathed in darkness. My adrenaline spikes. I can’t see two inches in front of my face. There is a faint glow across the gym from the emergency exit lights, but they are too far away to do us any good.

  I grope my way over to my cot and sit down. I‘m not tired, but there’s nothing else to do but sit in the dark and wait.

  “Let’s get some rest, it will be morning soon,” Ryan whispers to us.

  It doesn’t make me feel any better. We have only been in this cage for maybe six hours by my best guess, and I don’t think the next eighteen hours are going to fly by.

  I stay awake for what feels like half the night. I can hear the odd burst of gunfire, which makes it impossible to sleep. Every time the shots ring out my palms get sweaty, and my breathing gets faster, and all I can think about is being trapped in this cage when the zombies overrun Camp Freedom.

  I must have dozed off because I wake up abruptly when the buzz from the florescent lights start to hum. A minute later, I’m blinking in the sudden light. I look around and see that Abby is still sleeping, but Ryan and Megan are awake. I sit up and nod to them. My bladder is killing me, objecting with a stabbing feeling every time I move even a fraction. I wonder how much longer I will be able to hold it.

  Megan gets up and approaches the curtained off toilet cautiously. I can still see her feet at the bottom of the curtain, and I look quickly away. I stare down at my hands and avoid looking at Ryan when the unmistakable sound of pee hitting the bucket reaches our ears.

  I look over at the cage beside us and see that the two men are passed out on the cots, sleeping soundly. Megan walks out from behind the curtain and grimaces at us.

  “It wasn’t so bad,” she encourages us, though her cheeks are stained pink from embarrassment.

  I make a face that appropriately shows her what I think about the camp toilet.

  Abby wakes up within the hour and uses the bathroom as well. I feel like I’m going to die from a burst bladder, but I have a bathroom phobia that has taken me years to fully develop. I know I’m not going to be able to change it just because I’m locked in this cage.

  Soldiers bring us our breakfast. This time they just open the door and set the tray down on the ground for us to grab. Megan runs over, picks it up, and sets it on the table. It’s a box of Cornflakes and a small container of milk. Abby dishes us each up a bowl, and we sit down in silence. I take my first bite and grimace.

  “What’s wrong with this milk?” I asked, swallowing hastily.

  Megan smiles at me like I’m a child. “You don’t think that they are still running to the store for a gallon of milk do you?�
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  I don’t really like her tone, so I flip my hair back and ignore her question.

  Seeing that I’m not going to rise to her bait, she answers me like I’d asked. “This is fresh milk, they probably have cows here on the base, and they milk them every morning. It tastes different because it’s not full of chemicals like the store bought stuff.”

  I stare down at my bowl and hesitantly take another bite. It’s not bad—I decide after a few experimental chews—just different.

  “It’s probably not entirely pasteurized either,” Megan adds just as I take another bite.

  I spit the milk back into the bowl and turn to find her smirking at me.

  “I’m sure it’s fine,” Abby interjects hastily, trying to keep the peace.

  The unmistakable moan of a zombie interrupts my response. We spin away from the table and look around wildly to see where it’s coming from. The soldiers are standing at their posts like they haven’t heard the death groan. For a minute, I think maybe we imagined it.

  I hear it again, and this time I know it’s not my imagination. My eyes follow the sound to the two guys in the cage beside us; they widen in horror when I see the sobbing man from yesterday as he rises up out of his cot with the shaky, staggering gait of a zombie. The other man is either still sleeping or dead as well.

  “Hey!” I yell, trying to wake the other man up. I run to the chain link and start rattling the metal. The zombie turns towards me with its gaping maw and black, soulless eyes and lets out a hungry moan. “Wake Up!” I scream. The man on the cot sits bolt upright and quickly rubs the sleep from his eyes.

  “What’s going on?” he mutters. His voice is enough to focus the zombie’s attention back on the more attainable prey.

  “Your friend has turned, watch out!” Abby yells.

  We all watch in horror as the man jumps to his feet, his eyes widening when he sees the sorry state of his friend.

  “Marco, it’s me. Can you hear me? It’s Brad, do you recognize me?” he asks, but the zombie doesn’t show any recognition. I watch in horror as the zombie keeps staggering towards him, and the sick realization hits me. This guy is trapped in the cage with his undead friend.