A New Death (Savannah's Only Zombie Novel) (2 page)

It seemed as if the whole island was falling apart.
Wilmington Island was one of the few coastal islands near Savannah, one that
was mostly golf course and suburban sprawl. For a middle to upper class
dwelling place, it seemed as if things had shifted upside down, and the
apocalypse was upon us. Seeing the dead rise will have that effect on you.

Jeremy never slowed down, pedaling feverishly towards home.
As the world crumbled around him, his thoughts were on his mother.

God, I hope she’s okay
, he thought.

It seemed more like a prayer though. Jeremy was not very
religious. He did his time in vacation bible school at the local First Baptist
church as a kid, but that was about the extent of his religious background. That
was about as much as Jeremy’s mother could force on him. Faith was more her
thing than it was Jeremy’s.

His thoughts went back to his mother, causing his brain to
send messages to his legs that they needed to peddle faster. He noticed that
there were more people than just Ashley and Brian who were back from the dead.

What did the movies call them? Zombies? The living dead?
He thought.
Whatever you call them, there are definitely more of them now.

It seemed that the woman who initially attacked Ashley was
not the only one. There were more. A lot more. As Jeremy raced down the road to
his house, he saw probably at least twenty of those things. Nobody he knew,
just random people. Some were giving chase to living people, others were being
disposed of. Jeremy’s mouthed dropped as one woman ran out of her house holding
a shotgun, blew the head off one of the zombies, and rushed her kids back
inside.

Pulling into the driveway of his house, Jeremy dumped his
bike near the side door and ran into the house.

“Mom! Mom, are you home?”

The blinds were still closed, the house dark. It seemed that
she was not home from work yet. He fumbled with his phone from his pocket. It
was only a quarter to five. She would be home soon. He searched the house just
in case one of those things got in somehow. The layout of their house was
simple. Two bedrooms on one side of the house, a bathroom in the middle, a
living room and a kitchen/dining area taking up the right side of the house.
Jeremy checked both his and his mother’s bedrooms first. After seeing that they
were empty, he checked the bathroom and then retreated to the living room. He
collapsed on the couch and flipped on the TV. The news reports were all over
the place.

The news seemed just as confused as Jeremy was about what
was going on. The reports were coming from all over the low country. The local
news struggled to handle the onslaught of oncoming reports of the dead coming
back to life and eating the living. It was not until he turned on the major
news stations that Jeremy began to worry.

This was not just confined to the islands or Savannah for
that matter. This was happening all over the continental United States. Some
stations were claiming that the attacks were due to an outbreak in the “bath
salts” usage among the homeless. Others were saying it was some sort of
airborne biological terrorist attack. The usual names were being thrown around:
North Korea, Iran, and even mother Russia herself.

And then you had the loony’s, who were fully convinced that
this was full on biblical Armageddon. The guy with the big ears was pleading
with his viewers to send in money as a faith offering and they would be spared
from God’s impending wrath. Jeremy didn’t know much about the bible, but he
knew that wasn’t right. No one seemed to know what was exactly going on. Only
theories and opinions.

The sound of a car door shutting caused him to jump up to
his feet.

She’s home!

Relived, he ran to the side door to greet her. She was
walking up to the house, a look of intense alarm on her face. His mother had
aged well over the years. Her hair was still a bright red, and her skin was
remarkably blemish free, except for the few freckles around her cheeks. The
only thing that revealed her age was the few strands of gray hair over her
ears, probably mostly brought on by Jeremy and his testosterone fueled antics.
He wouldn’t claim full responsibility though, he was sure his father and the
divorce brought on some as well.

“Jeremy,” she started. “You’re okay! I was so worried! It
seems that everyone is going crazy! I saw this man attack another man. He beat
him to the ground and then began to bite him! Can you bel-”

Her words were cut short. Jeremy watched on in shock from
the doorway, as a man came shambling out of nowhere, and tackled his mother to
the ground. His clothes were tattered and there were stains of blood still
fresh around his lips. He put his full weight on her, and began to claw with
jagged, broken finger-nails into her skin. His mother held him at bay until,
finally, he overpowered her and sunk his teeth into her neck.

“No!” Jeremy screamed.

He flung open the screen door and ran to the rescue of his
mother. He ran straight into the ghoul, knocking it off, but he noticed the
dark, red blood gushing from his mother’s neck. The zombie began to crawl back
to the woman it attacked. It was not deterred by Jeremy’s tackle. It only
wanted to feed.

A flat-head shovel leaning against the fence caught Jeremy’s
eye. The zombie reached out with its dead hand towards Jeremy’s mother. He
quickly grabbed the shovel and brought it down hard on the zombie’s arm. It
moaned in frustration. Jeremy winced as he thrusted the shovel down, over and
over again into the dead flesh.

Yes, it was dead flesh
, he decided.

It finally broke through bone and tendon, severing the lower
arm completely. It moaned again, this time deeper and hoarser. Jeremy now had
its full attention.

Jeremy started to turn his attention back to his mother, but
another zombie stumbled up the driveway, and was making its way towards her.
Another was coming across the front yard.

Shit.

He quickly stooped next to his mother and picked her petite
frame up into his arms. As he lifted her up, he got a better look at the wound
on her neck. It was dark purple and already looked infected. Blood steadily
trickled down her neck onto her white blouse.

“Sweet Jesus,” he muttered.

She was passed out from the shock. Her body was completely
dead weight. Jeremy did his best to carry her back towards the house. He was
struggling with getting the door open, when a dead hand took hold of his
mother’s foot. The two dead had finally caught up to him.

They both lurched at her feet and with some un-human
strength, pulled her away from him. He watched as his mother was quickly torn
limb from limb and devoured. Skin and flesh was torn from the bone. Her arms
were pulled out from the sockets; a sickening pop announced the arrival of
fresh blood pouring from her arteries. Even the zombie with the severed arm had
made its way into the bloodbath.

Tears uncontrollably streamed down his face, as Jeremy fell
back into the house. He locked the deadbolt, and grabbing one of the dining
table's chairs, jammed it under the door handle. What should have been a fairly
simple task, his mind struggled to focus and he began to feel himself shut
down. He felt numb. He fell to his knees in the living room and began to sob.

“No, no, no,” he mumbled over and over again.

The dead outside began beating on the door, trying to get in
to the food inside. They did not retain the know-how of opening doors. A minor
positive amongst the sea of negative. Jeremy began to feel anger wash over him.
The same rage he felt in the store, except this time much stronger. He jumped
up to his feet and made a beeline for the backyard. He ran outside to the shed,
throwing lawn tools aside once he got there, searching for the machete his
father left behind after he moved out. Rust had already begun its assault on
the large blade.

It’ll do,
the voice inside his head screamed.

His heart throbbed within his chest and the rage surged
throughout his body. Slowly walking up to the gate that led back out front, he
paused and remembered his mother. He remembered how she never gave up on him,
despite his always rebelling against her. How she was always there for him after
his father left. How she prayed for him constantly, despite his wanting nothing
to do with her religion. Taking a deep breath and letting the rage burn deep
into his lungs, Jeremy flung open the gate, and charged out into the driveway.

The zombies had left the door and returned to his mother’s
remains. All three looked up in unison. Slowly they stood up and began to walk
towards their new meal. This angered Jeremy even more. They were not even
satisfied with his mother. Every muscle in Jeremy’s body grew tight.

He ran full speed to the nearest corpse and brought the
rusty blade down on its shoulder, cleanly separating the arm from the rest of
the body. It moaned, the other two moaning in response. He brought the blade
back up and sunk it into the monster’s neck. Again. Again. The fourth time sent
the head spinning in the air. The body fell limp. It was dead. This time for
good.

The other two were not bothered by the fact that their
comrade had been killed.

Re-killed?
Jeremy quickly thought.

They shambled towards him, arms stretched out, reaching for
his warm flesh. Jeremy took another deep breath and let anger replenish his
lungs. He sprung forward and quickly disposed of the two remaining dead. Learning
from the first one, he didn’t waste time hacking off limbs. He aimed his blade
straight for the neck. Soon their heads joined their friend’s on the ground.
Their teeth still jawed up and down, until Jeremy took the shovel, and caved in
each skull. They would not be getting back up.

It appears from now on, you’ll have to kill people twice.

Jeremy felt the rage dissipate; he quickly became exhausted.
He went back into the house and locked the door behind him. Heading straight
for the bathroom, Jeremy tried to focus. Everything seemed cloudy. He was in a
daze. Once in the bathroom, he stood in front of the mirror, steadying himself
against the counter. Blood covered him. Not the clean, bright red blood you see
in movies. It was coagulated, congealed. Dirty. He stripped off his clothes and
stepped into the shower.

Mom
, he thought.
She’s gone. There was nothing I
could do. Was there? No. There wasn’t. It was already too late by the time I
got to her.

He continued to replay the scene over and over in his head.
The hot water beat against his bare chest, as he tried to figure out some way
he could have saved her. There wasn’t one. There was simply nothing he could
have done different. And he knew that.

When he finished, he went to his room, and stood next to his
dresser.

What do you wear for the apocalypse?

Jeremy stared at the drawers, waiting for something to come
to him.

Better just keep it simple.

He reached in and pulled out a pair of jeans. They were a
light blue, worn around the knees, and sat snug right under his waist. Unlike
many of his peers, Jeremy thought that pants should sit at, or just below the
waist, not right above your knees. It was hot outside, but the idea of a little
extra protection comforted Jeremy. His backpack caught his eye, and he walked
over to it, dumping its contents onto the floor.

His first year of college was not really going according to
plan. He had decided to stay in town and attend a local school. The main
problem was that he worked more than he attended classes. He had scholarships,
but he choose not to use them to their full extent. He would never admit it to
her, but his mother was the reason he stayed. He did not want to leave her
behind.

And now for what?
He thought.
She’s gone now.

He quickly put on a plain, black t-shirt, and then began to
stuff a second pair of clothes in his bag. A lighter, a pocket knife his father
gave him years ago, and his grey Muse hoodie, all made their way into the bag
as well. Looking around the room, anything else seemed pointless.

His eyes fell on the small box under his bed. Not really
noticeable, but Jeremy knew exactly what it was. It was a surprise his mother
never looked in the box or asked about it. Jeremy was convinced that she knew.
There was no way she could have been that naive.

He knelt down and retrieved the box. Opening it revealed
what was left of some pretty good weed. Jeremy bought it from a guy a week ago
and was slowly burning his way through it. He didn’t consider himself a
“pothead” or a “stoner”; he didn’t bake all the time. It was just something to
take the edge off. And now seemed like a really good time to take the edge off.
Staring at it, he contemplated smoking a bowl or maybe six.

Just fuck yourself up. Yeah and just ride this shit
out...

He shook his head.

And then get torn to pieces by those freaks outside. Get yourself
together man; this ain’t no time to bake!

He dropped the box on his bed and made his way into the
living room. Pausing on his way at his mother’s door, he looked in. Everything
neatly in its place, still waiting for her to come home. Her bible still sat on
her bedside table. Jeremy walked up to it and looked down at the book. The
leather cover was cracked and the pages were worn from use. Every morning she
got up and read this thing.

And what good did it do her?

It was something she treasured deeply though, perhaps only
second to Jeremy himself. He grabbed it and stuffed it into his bag. A picture
of the two of them sat next the book. He grabbed that too.

Back in the living room, he gave the room one last look
over. He was really stalling for what he was about to do next. Even before the
dead started attacking the living, it was one of the last things he wanted to
do. He reached for the phone.