Zoe, Undead Read online

  J. R. Knoll

  ZOE UNDEAD

  by

  J. R. Knoll

  artwork by

  Zach Jordon

  Zoe, Undead

  This story would not have been possible without the large numbers of people who bugged me tirelessly to write a zombie story.

  Zoe herself owes her existence to my boy Ryan, a young man who is a video game playing, heavy metal head-banging dude who has Asperger's Syndrome and who Zoe was designed after. Many of Zoe's mannerisms and quirks are those I've seen in Ryan over the years, and it's become abundantly clear that he does not suffer from Asperger's, he seems to enjoy his life with it! We should all be so lucky as to spend even a day seeing things through the eyes of those with autism, as they can see many things far more clearly in many ways than those who consider themselves "normal."

  Being the parent of an autistic child is something of a daily adventure, but through all of the struggles, tears, laughter, and triumphs, we truly are the lucky ones to have been blessed with these very special children.

  Zoe, Undead is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to any places or persons, living, dead, or undead, is purely coincidental, with the exception of the wonderful sports of the San Antonio Zombie Response Team, who are keeping the world prepared for the impending zombie apocalypse. No part of this work may be reproduced in any form without the express written consent of the author.

  © 2012 by J. R. Knoll

  CHAPTER 1

  Hell on Earth. It was all anyone could call it. Seventy-five percent of the world's population was already infected, and it had only been four months since the first reported outbreak. The virus was very aggressive, and usually took complete control of the victim's body within twenty-four hours. Once it had control of its victim, it changed behavior, changed how the body worked, and those of all races, backgrounds, religions; everyone who was infected became what the virus wanted: Zombies.

  Driven to feed, they needed meat to sustain themselves and these gray skinned creatures who were formerly people roamed about in groups, sometimes mobs in search of food, in search of the living. Even dogs that had survived being attacked now preyed on the living, attacking and devouring what still living flesh they could find. Militaries and police all over the world responded as best they could, but they had to learn how to fight this new threat, and all too often they learned too slowly. Destroying the brain was seemingly the only way to kill them as damaged bodies mended in a matter of hours and the zombies seemed not to feel pain. Though relatively slow moving, they were subject to bursts of speed that could quickly overtake victims and even military units were overrun as their weapons cut the charging bodies apart. The infection spread quickly even through militaries and police and soon only a few pockets of resistance remained worldwide.

  Running or hiding anywhere that seemed defensible, those who eluded infection seemed to draw the zombies to them, and eventually they would all be found. Some communities remained untouched for months, only to find themselves under siege by hoards of zombies that looked for food, and neighborhoods, towns, whole cities fell in a matter of days, and most of those not killed and eaten found themselves infected, and within a day they would join the others on an endless quest for food.

  Many families in one suburban neighborhood did not make it out in time. Many barricaded themselves in their houses in a futile attempt to stave off the inevitable. The screams of those who fought to stay alive split through the moans of the roving zombies and attracted more to the promise of a living meal, and the splintered fragments of humanity grew smaller and smaller.

  Zoe was only seventeen. Pretty and shapely, she wore her long brown hair straight and it fell below her shoulders behind her. Dressed in denim shorts and a pink tee shirt that read Princess across the front in silver glitter, she sat on the floor of the living room with her eyes fixed on the TV as a cartoon she liked played. Her family was in chaos and running about in a panic, but she was oblivious. Settled back on her calves with her behind resting on her feet, her big green eyes watched the show she had seen dozens of times but never seemed to tire of.

  Her mother, who looked much like her but with much shorter hair, darted behind her and she looked over one shoulder, then the other as she absently tracked her mother's movements, then her attention went back to the TV.

  "Zoe!" her father yelled from the kitchen, which was to her left.

  She looked that way, then back to the TV.

  "Zoe!" he repeated, stress in his voice that was growing with each moment.

  Zoe's voice had little patience in it as she replied, "Yes, Daddy?"

  "Come on!" he ordered. "We need you in here! Turn that thing off and let's go!"

  She huffed a frustrated breath and looked down to the floor by her knees where the remote controls lay, and she picked one up and watched a moment longer before pushing STOP to end the show she was watching, then she picked up the other to turn the power off. Dropping them where they were, she stood up and turned to the kitchen folding her hands behind her as she walked into the disarray that was around her. Just watching for a moment as her father filled a cardboard box with food from the pantry, she finally asked, "What are you doing?"

  "We need to go," he grumbled. "Your brother already has most of this out at the van. Take that box over there out to him. He'll know what to do with it."

  "Okay," she sighed as she found the box he was referring to. Picking it up, she noticed that it had been hastily packed with food items. She looked it over for a second, then turned her eyes to her father and asked, "Are you bringing Spaghetti-O's?"

  "I have them in this box," he grumbled.

  "Oh," she said, looking back to the box. "Are we going camping?"

  "Yeah," he barked, "something like that. Just get that box out there and come right back in."

  "Okay," she complied as she turned toward the door.

  Arriving outside through the open garage door, she saw her brother, who was in college and wearing his college tee shirt, shorts and running shoes, already at the van and struggling to load supplies into the back. "Daddy said to bring you this," she informed.

  He did not even glance back as he ordered, "Just put it down. I'll take care of putting it in here."

  "'Kay," she said as she set the box down. "Daddy says we're going camping."

  With a glance back at her, he nodded and agreed, "Yeah, something like that. Get back inside and see if Mom needs any help with anything."

  "Where are we going?" she asked.

  "I don't know," he grumbled. "Just get back inside and see if they need any help."

  She turned from him and froze as she heard an odd sound, something like a moan. Her brother also stopped what he was doing as he heard it.

  A stillness gripped them and all that could be heard were activities from within the house and the distant sounds of others who were packing to leave.

  Something banged into the van and that moan was closer.

  "Zoe," he called to her in a low voice. "Get back in the house." He looked to her with fear in his eyes and hissed, "Get in the house! Now!"

  They heard that moan again and both turned toward the driver's side of the van, and her brother backed away a couple of steps, reaching for her and finally finding her hand.

  A man strode into view. He had gray skin and sunken eyes that were very dark all the way around. His black hair was in disarray and he wore what appeared to be a shirt that would be worn under a business suit, though it was tattered and torn in places. The tie was gone and his dark gray trousers were scuffed and dirty. His eyes found them and he paused and sniffed, then his lips curled away from his teeth which were black between and around his gums, and a growl of some kind escaped him as he lumbered toward them with unsteady steps.

&nb
sp; "Get back in the house!" her brother shouted as he pushed her backward. "Zoe! Get back in the house!"

  She backed away a step as she saw him advance on the gray skinned man and she flinched as he struck with a mighty yell, slamming his fist solidly into the man's nose and sending him staggering back.

  Zoe heard some kind of gurgle beside and behind her, then she turned and saw the horrible apparition of a woman, also with gray skin and sunken eyes, who rushed to her, and she screamed as the woman grabbed onto her, and she screamed even louder as the woman bit her arm. The pain ripped through her and she staggered sideways, somehow managing to push the woman off of her, and she retreated as her attacker continued to advance with grasping hands and snapping teeth. "Steve!" she screamed.

  Her brother charged in and slammed full on into the gray skinned woman, knocking her brutally to the floor, then he looked to Zoe and shouted, "Get in the house!"

  This time she complied, driven by terror, but she paused at the door inside to look over her shoulder, and she gasped as she saw her older brother pick up a baseball bat and square off against four more who were lumbering toward him, four more tattered and dirty gray skinned people who seemed to not be able to control how they moved very well. Their jerky movements and the way they walked like they could barely stay upright played together in her mind and fueled the horror that welled up within her and she cried out again and ran blindly into the house. Stopping in the kitchen where she expected to find her parents, she shouted, "Daddy!" She looked around her, and screamed, "Mommy!" Barking a scream as she heard something bang from her side, she spun around to find her father storm into the kitchen, and she found herself crying as she hysterically reported, "Daddy! Steve is fighting with some people out there and they have gray skin and they are all dirty and—"

  He took her shoulders and interrupted, "Zoe! Get your medicine and whatever you need and put it in a bag and get yourself to the back door. Do it now!"

  She nodded and rushed past him, past her mother who had just entered.

  Running into the bathroom, she grabbed two bottles of pills, her deodorant, her toothbrush and a tube of toothpaste, then turned to her room and ran in there. The room was comfortable and pink and white and had an assortment of dolls and toys about. The bed was, as always, perfectly made and her white teddy bear was sitting on her pillow with its back to the headboard, and she took it as well. Pausing by the bed as she held what she had and hugged the teddy bear to her, she looked around her. She needed a sack like her father had told her, or something to use as a sack. Dropping the bathroom items on the bed, she darted to the closet, pulled it open and looked to the top shelf, and she reached to where her sheets were neatly folded on one end of that top shelf, pulling down a pillowcase. Hurrying back to the bed, she set her bear down and quickly opened the pillowcase with shaking hands, then she put the bathroom items inside one by one before picking the bear up and running with it and the pillowcase sack to the door. She paused halfway down the hall when she heard a banging from what appeared to be the front door, then she hesitantly strode that way, her eyes wide as she approached the end of the hallway.

  Out in the living room, she could see the front door and her father pushing against it as someone or something on the other side was banging on it to try and get in.

  Her mother hurried to her and took her shoulders, holding her firmly as she frantically ordered, "Zoe, go out back and find somewhere to hide! No, hide in the garden shed and make sure you close the door behind you! Go!"

  "Mommy?" she whimpered as tears welled up in her eyes.

  "Just go!" her mother shouted. "We'll come for you as soon as it's safe. Just don't come out of there until then."

  "Zoe!" her father shouted from the front door as he struggled to hold the intruders out. "Go on! Do as your mother said and get to the garden shed! Go!"

  With a little child-like cry, the girl looked once to her father, then to her mother, then she turned to the sliding door that would take her out to the back yard and pulled it open, running out into the back yard. She hadn't the time to get her shoes and barely noticed as she arrived at the shed, and she cried as she pulled the door open and entered as quickly as she could, closing the door slowly and quietly as she had always been told to. It was afternoon and the shed was hot within and she retreated behind the riding lawn mower and hid behind the shelves in the corner at the back. It was not a big structure, only about ten by ten feet, but there was a lot of stuff to hide among and she pressed her back to the wooden wall in the corner and curled herself up as small as she could. She still cried, but did so as quietly as she could. Absently, she dropped the pillow case she used as a sack and raised her hand to her other arm, which bled halfway down from her elbow and hurt terribly.

  She trembled as she forced herself to stop crying, her wide, dark green eyes glancing about as she heard noises outside, moaning and heavy, clumsy steps on the ground. Looking around her in the darkness as if to see the horror that was looking for her right on the other side of the thin plywood walls, she breathed in shaking gasps. It stank within and the smells of insecticides mingled with the odor of gasoline, cut grass, soil, and every other scent that could be imagined in such a place. It was an overwhelming smell that she found herself too afraid to notice.

  Something banged on the door and she flinched, turning her wide eyes that way. There was a scream from within the house. She recognized it as her mother, and even way out here could hear the struggle in the place she had been told to abandon. Her parents and brother knew she would not be safe inside and echoing in her memory was her father yelling at her, telling her to get out the back and hide and do it now! She was too afraid and did as her father had told her. This kept replaying in her memory, as did the event in the garage, when her brother was fighting with a number of them, including the one that had bitten her.

  The house was silent in moments and for what seemed like hours after she could hear the moaning of the gray skinned people outside of the shed she hid in, but after a while the moaning grew more distant, more faint as they seemed to move away. She had seen such people in the movies, movies she was not supposed to watch, and she knew they were zombies, just like in the movies.

  Zoe waited for a long time, as quiet and still as she could be. Her eyes darted about in the darkness, following every sound, every creak of the shed, every bump she heard.

  Sometime later, she looked down at her watch, seeing that it was nearly six o'clock. There were things to be done at that time, routines and rituals that were her life, but she was too afraid to move, and she was feeling sick from the bite. Her head was beginning to hurt, mostly right behind her eyes and she had a terrible ache at the back of her head and down her neck, an ache that managed to creep all the way down her back. She did not understand what was happening to her and was much too afraid to go for help or even leave the corner in the shed where she hid.

  Moments later she looked down at her watch again. It was now after six and it was time for dinner and the things she would do in the evening. Despite how ill she felt as the virus did its work inside of her body, she was feeling more anxious about what she had to do at six, and this anxiousness began to urge her to go about her tasks, speaking louder and louder until she could take it no more.

  Hesitantly, and as quietly as she could, she stood from the corner, clutching the pillow case and teddy bear tightly to her as she looked about. Growing very dizzy, she blinked and finally squeezed her eyes shut. She staggered backward two steps and slammed into the corner of the shed again. Sweat began to bead up on her and she found herself shaking horribly and soon lost control of her legs, and she collapsed to where she had been a moment ago. She felt like her entire body was slowing down, like she had just run a great distance and now exhaustion had robbed her of her strength. Coldness swept through her, radiating out from her core. Even as she tried to reason out what was happening to her, something began to interfere with her thoughts. There were times when she had been unable to concentr
ate on something, but this seemed different, as if something else was trying to think for her. The dizziness grew worse and as her head bobbed forward. Her eyes grew very heavy and before she realized what was happening, her arms dropped to her sides and she slumped over, falling to the plywood floor and on top of her teddy bear.

  **

  There was no way to tell how long she was out.

  Zoe's eyes opened slowly and she blinked to bring her dark world into focus. Something was wrong and she opened her mouth and drew a deep, quick breath. Her body still ached and felt strange but her head was not hurting so badly. She found her last memories replaying in her mind and realized she was still in the storage shed. Slowly pushing herself up, she looked around her and realized she almost had to force herself to breathe, though she did not feel that half panicked urge to do so. With those memories still replaying in her thoughts, she sat quietly and listened for a while, afraid to attract the attention of the gray people who had broken into the house and attacked her and her family.

  Long moments later, she pushed herself up again. Her legs shook a little and seemed difficult to control, her steps were forced and her muscles seemed to spasm when she tried to use them. She did not know to notice this unusual difficulty in walking and braced herself on the riding mower as she made her way around it with the sack in one hand and the teddy bear in the other.

  Ever so slowly, she opened the door to the shed and peered out, looking one way and then the other, and finally stepping outside. Turning fully, she closed the shed door and gave a tug to make sure it was shut securely, then she looked to the now quiet house. The sun was still up and the house was very quiet within. Looking down at her watch, she saw that it was not quite six o'clock, and this confused her. She had fallen asleep after six. With her imagination feeding her confusion, she simply looked toward the house again and tried to go that way, stumbling a couple of times as she found her legs hard to control, and both of them feeling asleep. Unable to feel her feet, she did her best and finally reached the back door, reaching for it with the same hand that held the pillow case.