The Nation 01: The Nation, #1

By Dell Sweet

Zombie fiction: The Nation comes together person by person to fight the dead and survive the Zombie Apocalypse...

He was up the ladder faster than he would have thought possible. Billy, Mac and Dell were up next, but the firing was over. It had not come from Beth, except at the very end. There were half dozen dead laying in the roadway a hundred yards from the bus. Directly below, as Bear walked to the edge and looked down, two frightened young kids stared up at him. Teens, maybe, he told himself, not much past that, and they were both carrying machine pistols, yet they had somehow allowed the dead to get as close to them as they had - a girl and a boy. The girl had a gash on one side of her face and looked pretty bad off. He glanced back up at the dead in the road, and then let his eyes fall on the other houses on both sides of the road. Nothing and nothing. He looked to Beth
"Three?"
"Dead got her... Dragged her off in back of the houses... She was dead already I think... Bitten..." she lowered her voice. "Same with these two."
He looked back down at the two.
"How did you get injured?" he asked the girl.
Beth stepped up beside him. "Dead girl had her pinned to the ground. She wasn't hurt before that. Had the boy too."

• Language: English
• Publisher: Writerz
• Release date: Jan 14, 2013
• ISBN: 9781301077199

Dell Sweet

Dell Sweet was born in New York. He wrote his first fiction at age seventeen. He drove taxi and worked as a carpenter for most of his life. He was honorably discharged from the U.S. Navy in 1975. He has written more than twenty books and several dozen short stories.

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The Nation 01

By Dell Sweet

All rights foreign and domestic reserved in their entirety.

Cover Art © Copyright 2014 Dell Sweet

Some text copyright 1984, 2000, 2004, 2005, 2014 Dell Sweet

LEGAL

This is a work of fiction. Any names, characters, places or incidents depicted are products of the author's imagination. Any resemblance to actual living person’s places, situations or events is purely coincidental.

This novel is Copyright © 2004 Dell Sweet. No part of this book may be reproduced by any means, electronic, print, scanner or any other means and, or distributed without the author's permission.

Permission is granted to use short sections of text in reviews or critiques in standard or electronic print.

Prologue

Bear

He was up the ladder faster than he would have thought possible. Billy, Mac and Dell were up next, but the firing was over. It had not come from Beth, except at the very end. There were half dozen dead laying in the roadway a hundred yards from the bus. Directly below, as Bear walked to the edge and looked down, two frightened young kids stared up at him. Teens, maybe, he told himself, not much past that, and they were both carrying machine pistols, yet they had somehow allowed the dead to get as close to them as they had - a girl and a boy. The girl had a gash on one side of her face and looked pretty bad off. He glanced back up at the dead in the road, and then let his eyes fall on the other houses on both sides of the road. Nothing and nothing. He looked to Beth

Three?

Dead got her... Dragged her off in back of the houses... She was dead already I think... Bitten... she lowered her voice. Same with these two.

He looked back down at the two.

How did you get injured? he asked the girl.

Beth stepped up beside him. Dead girl had her pinned to the ground. She wasn't hurt before that. Had the boy too.

That's a fuckin' lie! A fuckin' lie! The boy screamed. They never touched us... never. We got away, he added in a near normal voice. He turned and looked back down the road at the dead, and when he did, Bear saw the blood leaking from his hairline. He looked back at the girl and her eyes were locked on his, staring up at him.

Girl? Bear asked.

She frowned and then nodded. I don't know. I think I cut it on the road... He did, she turned and pointed at the boy. They slammed his head into the road, She tilted her head as she looked up at Bear and then Beth. It might have been. It was this close, she held her index finger and thumb barely apart. Could have been. She cleared her throat.

We've been here, we didn't just get here. They're dumb... They can't even get out of their own way. But we found some this morning that weren’t dumb... somehow, she seemed confused. Set them on fire. Some got away, she shook her head, staggered, and then her eyes cleared. She continued, Hell, maybe all of them got away. The thing is, they weren't stupid. Not like the ones we've been dealing with, she shrugged. Her eyes fluttered as she spoke, and she staggered again.

Sick, Beth whispered.

The boy looked up. I'm telling you, they never got her at all. Never did. His own eyes were glazed, no doubt due to the head injury hiding under the hair that was slowly darkening and becoming plastered to his head. The blood was bright red now, flowing down his neck. He held the girl for a second, but it seemed all he could take, and they both sagged to the ground.

Goddammit, Bear muttered. I guess that explains the fire though.

Down the road, three dead staggered into the street from a house where they had seen several others come from. Before Bear could speak, Mac and Billy dropped all four with just a short burst from their weapons. Getting a lot better, Bear said. A lot. They said nothing. He looked back down at the girl and boy and then walked away and looked over at Beth.

I am not for it. I think she's sick... Maybe not the boy, but what the fuck can we do? Beth asked.

Bear nodded. When he spoke, his voice was a deep whisper. Nothing. He's not going to leave her. He leaned forward and looked down at her where she lay curled in the boy's arms. He was out. Maybe not coming back. The blood was still pumping from his head and flowing down his neck.

Bear squatted and peered down at the girl and the boy for a few moments before he spoke again. What do you think of her hand?

Beth squatted beside him and looked down at the girl. She stood and shook her head. I can't tell. It looks like she's turning. Turns black, you know, but just under the skin... like... like a spiderweb flowing out under their skin. Bad description, I know, she finished.

Not really. Pretty close to what I have seen. Looks like the capillaries just under the skin turn black. Takes no time at all... spreads to the rest of the body. Can take the finger, hand, foot... if you're fast enough. Stop it right there. I've seen it done.

Beth met his eyes. Her voice was low. Can't take her head off. She's got the other cut on her face and that seems to be turning black too... around the edges. Can't tell for sure yet.

No. Looks it to me too. Bear sighed. He rubbed at his eyes and then turned to Billy. How long do you guys need to finish your project?

Rest of today. Tomorrow to test it and make sure it's okay.

Yeah? All that work and that's it? Beth asked.

Not as complicated as it looks. It's swapping out the body, really. Everything is in the wiring harness, just run it into the van cab... wire up a switch. The big deal is mounting the body. I have a welder, I have a generator, but I'm not so hot with welding.

Really? Well, like I said, I am. Show me what you got, what you need, and as long as you can juice up that welder, I'll get it done for you, Bear said.

Billy laughed. Man. That's good. I was worried about it, but... He broke off as Bear turned away and looked back over the edge of the bus. I'll wait for you... get the generator fired up. I have to cut some plate steel and make what I need you to weld. We'll be waiting.

Bear turned back and nodded. Be there in a bit.

Billy's eyes slid up to Mac, and a second later they both turned and made their way down the ladder.

Dell... we got this, Dell. Bear turned and looked at Dell. Dell nodded, relief clearly written on his face, turned and made his way carefully down the ladder.

Bear reached into his pocket, pulled his pouch out and rolled a cigarette.

Roll me one, Beth said.

Yeah? This is rough stuff.

Yeah. Roll me one, Beth repeated.

Bear rolled a second cigarette, handed it to Beth and then struck a match. Beth leaned in and pulled a deep breath as Bear held the match to her cigarette. He lit his own, looked over the edge, and then tossed the match after he shook it out. His eyes looked down the street where the three dead had now become four, bumping around parked cars. One had walked into the side of a house. It kept backing up and then walking straight forward again, slamming into the side of the house over and over again.

One had found the middle of the street and was drunkenly staggering its way toward them. Bear flicked his machine pistol to single shot, raised it, sighted and squeezed the trigger. Half the zombie's head instantly disappeared from its shoulders. The other half seemed to hold together for a moment and then toppled to the left. The zombie dropped in to the street in a heap. Beth coughed beside him. He turned.

Jesus, Bear. Rough is not the word.

Bear nodded and then looked down at the two teens. The girls face was beginning to darken, her hand was a mass of small spidery black lines. The boys head wound was slowing, but there was a fine mass of black lines running across one cheek. Guess that answers that, Bear said quietly.

Beth took a deep pull off the cigarette and rubbed at her temples with her free hand. Is this the way it's going to be, do you think?

Bear's cigarette dangled from his lower lip, seeming plastered there. No... He raised his eyes. We're gonna find that place and settle down there. No more of this shit.

Beth flicked her cigarette off the edge of the roof. Bullshit. I don't see it. I don't believe it exists, and if it does, I don't think you can settle down.

Bear took a deep pull from his own cigarette and then flicked it off the roof too. He said nothing, but leaned forward and looked off the edge of the roof. He looked back up and held her eyes for a moment. Beth stepped forward too, shrugged her machine pistol from her shoulder and into her hands. She raised her eyes to Bear. He nodded, thumbed his pistol to full auto, and sprayed the two where they lay up against the bus below. Beth's pistol hammered away too. They were brief bursts, but they did the job. They both backed away a moment later.

Okay? Bear asked.

Beth nodded.

Bear slipped his pistol back into the sheath on his back, walked to the other side of the bus, snagged the ladder and dragged it upward. A moment later he was lowering it on the other side.

Got you, Beth said tightly.

Bear climbed down the ladder. A few moments later he was pulling the bodies away from the side of the bus, dragging them over behind the nearest house and rolling them down into the ravine that the rains had cut into the hillside there. In less than a minute, he was climbing back up the ladder and then pulling it up behind him.

Beth watched the street. There were two more dead that were getting closer. The one was still slamming repeatedly into the side of the house down the street.

Okay? Bear asked quietly.

She turned to him. Yeah. It is what it is. She thought for a second, but didn't know what else she could say.

Bear nodded. I'll send Dell back. He waited for a second.

Got a pint... Got a couple actually... Beth said.

You offering to buy me a drink? Bear asked.

She held his eyes. I think I'm offering more than that. I don't want to cause problems...

Bear nodded, I'll send Dell. We'll take a little walk. We can talk this out, I think.

Yeah? She moved closer to him. Bear started to lean toward her and the ladder rattled. Beth stepped back, smoothed her shirt unconsciously and looked toward the ladder.

Iris's head rose above the ladder level. Something's wrong with Winston, she said.

Bear looked a question at her.

I don't know... sick... Cammy said he has pain in his arm. Iris looked from Beth to Bear and then back and forth again. You had to kill them kids?

Bear sighed. Mac told you?

Well, yeah.

Yeah... Had to... Okay, I'm coming, he turned back to Beth, an apology in his eyes. Her own eyes said she understood. I'll send Dell. She nodded. Bear turned and followed Iris down the ladder.

I can't believe it, Iris muttered as they walked toward the garage.

What? Bear said, Winston?

Please... You two are fucking! She lowered her voice to a hissed whisper.

Bear was taken aback. What the hell are you talking about? He stopped and closed one hand on her shoulder, turning her back to face him.

She squinted her eyes. Are you serious? It's obvious.

It's obvious that you see something that isn't happening, Bear said.

Right... Right... I won't tell. But it's fucked up. You shouldn't be with Cammy if it's Beth you want."

I'm telling you nothing's going on, Bear said.

She glanced down at his hand, shrugged it from her shoulder. No? You will be. It's not fair to Cammy is what I'm saying. She turned and walked off to the garage, leaving Bear standing for a second before he got his feet moving and followed her.

Chapter 1: The Burning Fields

The acrid smell of burning wood and flesh hung heavy in the air, a cloying perfume of death that clung to the back of Bear’s throat. Before them lay what was left of Oakhaven – or what had been Oakhaven. Now, it was a skeletal landscape of blackened timbers and twisted metal, a testament to a fire’s savage efficiency. The once-familiar shapes of homes were reduced to charred husks, their interiors gaping maws of ash and shadow. The silence was broken only by the occasional crackle of embers and the rasping sigh of the wind weaving through the ruins.

Beth, her face pale beneath the grime, stumbled back, her hand flying to her mouth to stifle a gasp. Finn, ever vigilant, his rifle held ready, scanned the horizon, his eyes narrowed, a grim hunter assessing his prey. Maya, typically stoic, showed a flicker of something akin to horror in her usually impassive gaze. This wasn’t the work of a random fire; this was deliberate, calculated destruction.

The evidence was chillingly clear. The fire hadn't simply consumed the village; it had been meticulously orchestrated. Buildings were torched in a pattern, not the haphazard spread of a wildfire. There were signs of methodical destruction – overturned furniture, scattered belongings, as if the inhabitants had been forced to flee in haste, leaving behind a life snatched away in an instant. The air, thick with smoke, carried a subtle, almost metallic tang, a scent Bear recognized – the lingering odor of burning flesh.

This was no accident.

Bear felt a knot tighten in his gut. This was different. The usual shambling hordes of infected, driven by instinct alone, wouldn't have exhibited this level of calculated brutality, this chilling precision. This was something… else.

Firebringers, Maya muttered, her voice barely audible above the crackling embers. The name, whispered before in hushed tones, now hung in the air like a tangible threat. Rumors had circulated for months about a new variant of the infected – faster, stronger, and, most terrifying of all, intelligent. They weren't just driven by primal hunger; they possessed a twisted, macabre intelligence that enabled them to utilize fire as a weapon. It was a chilling thought, a grim evolution in the ongoing war for survival.

Bear ran a hand over his stubbled chin, his mind racing. This wasn't just about finding food or shelter; this was about understanding a new enemy, an enemy that wielded fire like a horrifying tool of war. He scanned the devastated village, his experienced eyes picking out details others might miss. A partially burned piece of parchment lay near a collapsed wall; the remnants of a crude map, perhaps, detailing the village's layout before its fiery demise. The meticulous nature of the destruction suggested strategic planning, a horrifying display of calculated savagery.

He gestured towards Finn and Maya. Stay alert, he commanded, his voice low and gravelly. This wasn't a random fire. Someone, or something, planned this.

Their search of the remaining structures uncovered more disturbing evidence. Charred bones lay scattered amongst the debris, their skeletal forms twisted in grotesque positions. Some were human, some were not – the remains of infected consumed in the same fire, a disturbing indication of a possible internal conflict within the Firebringer ranks. The unsettling reality sank in – this new enemy was not only capable of using fire, but also capable of controlling it with frightening precision. They had burnt both the living and the infected, suggesting a level of organization and intent far beyond the capabilities of the typical, shambling undead.

As they moved deeper into the ruins, a faint whimper reached Bear’s ears. He followed the sound, pushing aside debris and clambering over charred timbers. He found them in a collapsed section of what looked like a dwelling – two teenagers, huddled together amongst the wreckage.

A boy, no older than fifteen, lay sprawled on the ground, his leg twisted at an unnatural angle. His face was pale and streaked with grime and blood, but his eyes, though vacant, held a flicker of life. Beside him was a girl, perhaps a year or two older, her arm mangled, her breathing shallow and ragged. Both showed the early signs of infection: pale skin, feverish touch, a disconcerting lack of alertness.

The boy coughed, a rattling sound that tore through the silence. His lips moved, but no words formed. The girl's eyes flickered open and, for a moment, a spark of recognition seemed to register before fading.

A wave of conflicting emotions crashed over Bear. Fear, of course, the ever-present companion of their harsh existence. But also pity, and a twinge of something akin to empathy, a feeling he had almost forgotten in the brutal years since the fall. Taking them in would be a massive risk, a tremendous burden on already strained resources. It would slow them down, making them easy targets, potentially exposing the entire team to infection. Yet, leaving them to die felt… wrong. It felt like a betrayal of something fundamental, a flickering ember of humanity in the desolate wasteland.

Beth, ever the compassionate one, was already kneeling beside the children, gently assessing their injuries. Her hands moved with practiced gentleness, a strange contrast to the harsh reality surrounding them. They're alive, Bear, she said softly, her voice tinged with both concern and determination. We can help them.

Finn and Maya exchanged uneasy glances. Their usual stoicism was replaced by palpable unease. They knew the risks, the challenges, the potential consequences of taking on this additional burden. More mouths to feed, more bodies to protect, an increased vulnerability to attack. This was a gamble, and the stakes were life and death. The unspoken question hung heavy in the air: was it worth it? Bear's decision hung suspended between the hardened pragmatism forged in years of relentless struggle and a nascent compassion that threatened to breach the walls of his cynicism. The burning fields of Oakhaven had revealed a new enemy, but they'd also revealed a moral dilemma far more challenging than any horde of the infected. The fate of two teenagers, and the integrity of his own team, hung in the balance. The weight of their survival, and perhaps the faintest spark of hope in their ravaged world, rested on his shoulders.

The boy, no older than fifteen, lay sprawled on the ground, his leg twisted at an unnatural angle, the bone protruding through a ragged tear in his jeans. His face, pale and streaked with grime and blood, was contorted in a silent grimace. His eyes, though vacant, held a flicker of life, a stubborn refusal to surrender to the encroaching darkness. A ragged cough tore from his chest, a rattling sound that echoed the devastation around them. His lips moved, forming wordless sounds, a desperate plea lost in the ashes.

Beside him, the girl, perhaps a year or two older, lay huddled, her arm mangled, twisted at an impossible angle. Her breathing was shallow and ragged, a gasping struggle for air that mirrored the fight for survival raging within her. Her skin, like the boy's, was pale and clammy, a chilling testament to the infection's insidious advance. A fevered flush stained her cheeks, contrasting sharply with the pallor of her lips. Her eyes flickered open, meeting Bear's gaze for a fleeting moment before drifting back into a hazy unconsciousness. A spark of recognition, a brief flicker of awareness, had danced in their depths before fading, leaving behind only the chilling emptiness of encroaching death.

Bear knelt, the rough ground pressing against his knees, a familiar discomfort that faded into insignificance beside the weight of the decision pressing down upon him. He examined the boy, his experienced hands moving with a practiced gentleness born from years of tending to injuries under far less favorable circumstances. The boy's pulse was weak, thready, but stubbornly persistent. The infection, he could feel it, was already taking hold, a subtle chill in his touch, a telltale sign of its relentless advance. The girl showed similar signs, the early stages of the infection already visible in her feverish touch, her labored breathing.

Beth, her face etched with a mixture of concern and determination, was already tending to their wounds. Her hands, usually calloused and hardened by the harsh realities of their existence, moved with surprising gentleness as she cleaned their wounds. Years of scavenging and survival hadn’t dulled her compassion, a resilience that stood in stark contrast to the brutal realities of their world. She worked efficiently, her movements precise and assured, as if she were in a field hospital instead of amidst the smoldering ruins of a village.

Finn and Maya stood watch, their rifles held loosely, their eyes scanning the horizon for any sign of movement. Their usual stoicism was replaced with an anxious unease. They knew the risks. Bringing the teenagers back to their camp was a gamble, a potentially fatal one. More mouths to feed, more bodies to protect, an increased vulnerability to attack. The logistical challenges were immense, the potential consequences catastrophic. The unspoken question hung heavy in the air – was it worth risking their own lives, their own precarious survival, for two infected teenagers?

Bear felt the familiar tug of conflicting emotions. The hardened pragmatism forged in years of survival warred with a nascent compassion he hadn't felt in a long time, a flicker of humanity in the darkness. Leaving them to die seemed barbaric, an act of inhumanity that felt like a betrayal of everything he once believed in. Yet, bringing them into the fold was a monumental risk, not only to their own survival but to the safety of the entire group.

The decision was more than just a matter of logistics; it was a moral dilemma, the kind that gnawed at your conscience long after the sun had set. Each breath, each heartbeat of these teenagers was a stark reminder of their shared humanity, a fragile connection in a world consumed by death and despair. Their survival, their suffering, laid bare the terrible cost of survival in this broken world.

Beth looked up, her eyes filled with a mix of concern and grim determination. We have to try, she said, her voice barely a whisper above the crackling embers. They’re still alive. We can help them.

Bear looked at her, at the unwavering compassion in her eyes, and felt a grudging admiration bloom within him. Her faith in the face of such bleakness was inspiring, almost reckless. It was a stark contrast to his own pragmatism, his cynicism. He knew the risks. Infection was a slow, agonizing death, and its spread was unpredictable, potentially decimating the entire group. Yet, the alternative was equally unacceptable.

He surveyed the scene, his gaze sweeping across the charred remains of Oakhaven, the grim testament to the new, intelligent enemy they faced. He saw the ruins, the death, the devastation, yet he also saw the fragile flicker of life in the eyes of the injured teenagers. He knew the choice wasn't merely about survival; it was about their humanity, about the fragile essence of compassion in a world that seemed intent on extinguishing it.

Alright, he finally said, his voice gravelly, a testament to years spent screaming and struggling for survival. We take them with us. The decision made, the weight lifted, yet the gravity of the situation remained. The road ahead would be long, arduous and fraught with peril. The teenagers survival depended not only on their luck but also on the willingness of the group to overcome their doubts, their hesitations, and their fear. The burning fields of Oakhaven were merely a prelude to the battles ahead. The true test of survival and the essence of their humanity were about to begin.

The journey back to their makeshift camp was arduous. Caleb, his leg secured with makeshift splints fashioned from scavenged wood and cloth, groaned with every step. Sarah, her arm supported by Beth, whimpered occasionally, her breathing still labored. The infection was already progressing, subtle changes in their skin tone, the faintest trace of delirium in their eyes. Every movement was a painful reminder of their vulnerability, their precarious hold on life.

The team worked as a unit, sharing the burden, a familiar rhythm emerging from their collaboration. Finn and Maya scanned the surroundings vigilantly, their senses sharpened by the presence of the injured teenagers. Their silence, usually a sign of calm efficiency, reflected the shared tension, the awareness of the heightened danger. The silence was punctuated only by the occasional groan, the rasp of breath, the crunch of debris beneath their boots. The fear was tangible, a heavy cloak draped over their shoulders, an oppressive silence punctuated by the constant reminder of their vulnerability.

Bear walked in the rear, his eyes scanning the perimeter. His gaze was calculating, assessing their surroundings, searching for any potential threats. He watched Beth and Maya, monitoring their every move, listening for any change in their breathing or demeanor, noticing the slight tremors in their hands as they carried the injured children. His mind worked, strategizing, planning, anticipating, preparing for any eventuality, even the one he most desperately wanted to avoid – the potential outbreak of infection among the entire group.

The sun dipped below the horizon, casting long shadows that danced and writhed across the ravaged landscape. The air grew colder, a biting wind whispering through the skeletal remains of the village. The shadows lengthened and deepened, and the silence that followed was heavier than the previous hours. The weight of their responsibility, the profound realization of the fragility of life, hung in the air, a tangible reminder of their precarious survival. The darkness was not only an environmental challenge, but a harbinger of the unknown, a reminder that the threats they faced could come not only from the infected, but from the very world