SHTF (NOLA Zombie Book 0) (12 page)
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Authors: Gillian Zane
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G
illian Zane is
the author of the NOLA Zombie series. Zane is the pen name of a prominent blogger in the publishing industry, which will remain a mystery unless you Google it. Since she can remember her goal has been to become Master of the Universe and has decided to focus first on the literary world. Things are progressing nicely.
Zane has been a freelance writer for the last ten years and has published a few non-fiction pieces, none of which were very exciting.
Zombies are much more exciting and a way for her to combine her two current obsessions, hot boys with guns and Doomsday Prepping. When she isn't stockpiling MREs (Meal's Ready to Eat) or researching how to build a cistern on a budget, she's taking care of her little family and exploring the city that she loves, New Orleans.
* * *
Romeo’s Story
Baby’s Story
Romeo’s Story
The NOLA Zombie story is just beginning. This was a prequel to a series that has been called “amazing,” “riveting,” and “all kinds of sexy, but with zombies.” Read on for the first Chapter of RUN.
“
Could not put this book down!
” - Amazon Customer
“
...sex and zombies! How can you go wrong?
” - Goodreads Review
T
he zombie apocalypse
was really fucking with my head. One minute I was at my job, sucking up to my new boss– don’t judge, I didn’t want to be on the next list of layoffs– then in the next moment I’m running for my life with Rick the IT guy in full zombie brain-eater mode after my ass.
Lucky for me, I chose to wear my flats instead of those new Gucci studded platform monstrosities I bought on impulse last weekend because my new boss is a ridiculously short, insecure douche-bag. He can’t look up to a girl, so I make sure that I wear flats so he stares at my tits. We both win. My shoe choice literally saved my life. If boss man wasn’t a little Napoleon, I would be pushing up daisies, or looking for my own brains to snack on.
Who would have thought this was the way the shit would hit the metaphorical fan? ZombieBob205 from the prepper forum that I frequented must be laughing his ass off at this moment. We all thought he was a lunatic. Who believes zombies will one day descend on the world and end it? We, being the “normal” preppers were all focused on polar shifts and EMP blasts. Now I feel like the dipshit for going with EMP. I wish I would have paid more attention to ZombieBob205. I know he posted a list of the best weapons for a zombie attack but I couldn’t remember it.
“An ax!” I screamed as I ran into the stairwell and slammed the door behind me. There was an ax in the emergency box in this stairwell, somewhere. Rick slammed into the other side of the door but it was one of those fireproof doors, it would hopefully hold. I turned around, ignoring the pounding and moaning coming from the other side. I had to find that red box of awesome. I looked around frantically, but there was nothing here. I knew it was somewhere, I had passed it every day when I was on my “Get Fit Take the Stairs” movement. I rushed down another flight of stairs and there it was!
“Alexis, you’re a genius” I praised myself for positive reinforcement and hurried over to it, slamming the conveniently provided stick into the glass and pulling out the ax, brandishing it in triumph. I had never held something so wonderful.
The next thing on the agenda was getting to my car. My car had everything in it.
The parking garage had to be empty, right?
It was a Saturday and there were only a few die-hard workers in the building, escaping should be a breeze.
“Why, of all things, a fucking zombie apocalypse?” I whispered as I made my way down the next flight of stairs. My brain kept flashing back to Rick and his desperate attempt to eat my face. He had come in late, claiming he was in a road rage conflict and the guy in the other car had gone crazy and bit him. I thought it was hilarious at the time. But I wasn’t laughing when Rick suddenly went gray and tried to bite me while I was diligently updating a spreadsheet.
Rick was always an inappropriate loser, but he didn’t deserve his new undead status. But, maybe he was the lucky one - because there was no telling what I was about to face. Global financial collapses, EMP blasts, super volcano explosions…those were child’s play compared to your neighbors trying to eat your face.
I couldn’t dwell on negativity. I had to make it out of this. I had to get to my car. Survival mode. I glanced at the exit door. I was on the 10th floor, my car was parked on the second, I would have to go through the second floor lobby to get to the parking garage exit and then I didn’t know what I would find when I got into the garage. My building was located in downtown New Orleans and in the height of summer there weren’t that many people out and about, but there would still be a good bit of tourists and some die-hard business people like me.
Zombies
.
Shit
. I could do this.
The hard part would be getting from downtown to the outlying suburb of Metairie where my house was located. I had to get home. In my house there was food, weapons and my dog Charlie.
I needed to pick up the pace. I made it down those stairs in record time and was breathing heavily by the time I got to the door marked 2nd floor. I took a few deep breaths, preparing myself for whatever was about to happen. There might be someone out there, that someone just might be dead. That person I might happen to know, and if they were dead I was going to have to stick this ax in their head.
Headshots
. I knew that one from horror movies. Fuck ZombieBob205, I got this. Who needed his stupid posts about optimal zombie attire? Not me. Shit, I sure hope these dickwads follow conventional zombie tropes.
“Okay, one, two…” I pushed the door open, holding the ax in a death grip. There were no moaning hordes waiting for me, in fact it was dead quiet. I crept to the glass balcony and peered down to the first-floor lobby. There was no one. The security guard that sat at the big round desk in the center, day after day, wasn’t even in her customary spot. I couldn’t get a good look at the front doors, but the quiet was telling in itself.
A loud clatter from behind me destroyed any semblance of peace, and I swung around in a panic to face whomever or whatever made that sound. I didn’t see anyone, but from what I could tell the noise came from the office located in the central area of the floor. It was what everyone called “the fish tank” because the office was all glass and the poor employees had to work with the entire building walking past them to get to the parking garage. Creeping closer, I noticed there was a woman in there and she was alive.
“Thank God,” I breathed and pushed open the door to her office. She was trying to make a phone call and in her frustration had knocked over some files, the source of the clatter. I recognized her from brief conversations in the lunch line and a few building block parties. I couldn’t remember her name though.
“I can’t get anyone. Have you seen the news? This is insane.” She looked up at me desperately and motioned to the television. “I can’t believe my boss made me come in. I knew this virus was spreading. I should have told him to go fuck himself.”
On the television a local news anchor was on the balcony that surrounded the news station in the French Quarter, not too far from where my building was located. I didn’t recognize her, but it was a local channel that I watched regularly. She was out of breath, eyes wide and the camera kept jerking from the anchor to mass amounts of people running and screaming in the streets of the Quarter.
“As you can see from what is going on in the streets below me, the iKPV disease that has plagued New York City and Miami has now come to New Orleans. The disease has been called the zombie plague by the media, and from what I’m witnessing they could not have named it better. Oh my God, are you seeing this…get in on this…” She must have been talking to the cameraman because the picture zoomed in on two people wrestling on the ground in the streets below. The one on top was the same gray color that Rick was. The person on the bottom looked like a cook because I could see his white and black checkered pants, they were currently flailing as the man tried to defend himself against the attack.
When the camera zoomed even closer it was obvious there was no helping the cook since he was being eaten alive by the guy on top of him. There was blood everywhere and the man was screaming. He was in so much pain, I’ve never heard anything like the sounds he was making.
“Oh fuck, fuck, fuck.” I had forgotten the girl behind me who was apparently about to have a panic attack. Her sudden surge for the garbage can had her pushing past me, alerting me to her presence. I wish I could distract myself with my own vomiting, but it was a no-go and I was stuck watching more of the terrible footage as the cameraman still remained focused on the cook being eat alive. The man had finally gone still, blood pooling around him on the cobblestone streets, the zombie on top of him ripping at the flesh of his stomach, like a big cat feasting on the intestines of an antelope.
“The reports about small outbreaks and hardly any fatalities from the government are obviously wrong because this is not a small outbreak and that man down there was just eaten. EATEN!” The camera pulled back and focused on the reporter. The reporter’s face was flushed and she looked like she might have hurled herself as her mouth had a few chunks of something vile around it and her hair was a mess.
“We at WYUI are urging our viewing audience to seek shelter and…” The broadcast cut out and was replaced with a blue screen and some ridiculous high-pitched sound.
“We should probably go to a safe place. I don’t think it’s safe here, the French Quarter is only a few minutes from this building.” I told the girl next to me.
“Yeah, home. I should go home, you’re Alexis right? From the 14th floor?” She asked, switching topics.
“Yeah, that’s me. Home. Good idea. You want to go to the garage together?” I suggested. “Grab your purse, and do you have something you can use as a weapon? A stick, or maybe a big knife?”
“Pepper spray.” She shook her head and shrugged.
“I don’t think that is going to be very effective. C’mon, let’s get out of here.” I went to the door and she followed me.
We double-timed it to the entrance of the parking garage. My car was right there, so close. We could do this.
Pushing the door open slowly resulted in a loud screech that had me gritting my teeth. I heard the sound of feet almost immediately. The pace wasn’t fast and my heart sank at what I knew was coming. There was a shadow to the right of me and it was heading in our direction. Only one, but at the speed it was going, it would intercept us before we got to our cars.
“Oh my God!” My new friend gasped as it became obvious that it was the security guard and she didn’t look good at all. Her shirt was torn open and it looked like her intestines were hanging from her protruding belly. She was covered in blood, and half of her face was a mess of swollen flesh and hanging meat. She was coming directly at us in a weird shuffle step that was faster than I would have expected.
“Where’s your car?” I hissed at the girl.
“Over there.” She said pointing to where she was parked on the opposite side of the garage.
“Go, run.”
“I can’t just leave you.”
“Yes, you can. I have an ax. Go home. Survive.” She made no more arguments. She took off and the zombie made to follow but I whistled and called, “Come on, you nasty bitch!” And her horrendous, bleeding eyes focused back on me. I took a step forward and took one swing at her, the ax coming down hard on her neck. She was short so it worked well for me. The girl’s head came clean off of her body. I had no idea I had the upper body strength to do that.
I should have ran then, but I couldn’t stop staring at the decapitated head. The thing was still alive! Its mouth was working, its teeth were chomping, and its eyes were rolling around, looking for me. “Ermagawd, that is messed up,” I hissed. I took the ax and planted it directly into the zombie’s brain.
The zombie didn’t move after that.
“Hell yeah, something went right.”
Headshots. Go for the brain.
I heard the peel of tires as my friend sped out of the garage. I decided that was a very good idea and booked it to my car. Time to get the fuck out of here.