The Dead Rising: The Beginning

By Albert Yates

The world has become a different place since Henry woke up this morning and decided to go for a run on his treadmill. His neighbour seems to be acting strange, no one is working at the radio station, and the 911 operator rushed him off the phone when he called. What happened to his town while he was sleeping and will Henry be able to survive the dangers that lie outside of his house?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Albert Yates
• Release date: Aug 18, 2015
• ISBN: 9781310440144

Albert Yates

A little bit of a nerd and zombie fanatic. I'm a programmer by trade on the east coast of Canada with 2 wonderful children and wife I wouldn't imaging being without. Writing has been something that I've always wanted to do, ever since writing short stories when I was growing up. The first book I ever bought was Night Shift by Stephen King, and it terrified me to no end, then I went out and got another.

Book preview

1

February 1st was the beginning of the end of humanity as we knew it.

For anyone living close to the larger cities, there was not enough time to prepare or run, as the onslaught was so sudden that no one understood what was happening. Those living in suburbia or on the outskirts had a better chance of survival. There were others who might not have known what was going on since it was in the middle of the training season for the nearby infantry base. The rumblings in the distance were attributed to the training and not a fight to save humanity in the middle of the city.

Merton was one of the picturesque towns that were featured on postcards that highlighted the beauty of the country; from the sweeping hills of old trees that littered the countryside with colour in the autumn when the leaves changed, to the award winning art gallery in the heart of downtown. Merton was the kind of town where everyone wanted to raise their children. It was once the thriving hub of industry until a couple of decades ago when the recession hit and factories began to close their doors, opening the way for more retail outlets to occupy the once storied locations.

Merton was cut in half by a winding river. The portion of town on the northern side of the river featured mainly the low-income housing and the newly re-opened mill that had been saved by a local businessman, while the other side of the river was where many of the smaller businesses' and residential neighbourhoods could be found.

On the edge of Merton, there was a small, modest neighbourhood the kind where everyone's lawn looked professionally manicured, and all of the houses looked like they were picked from a single page of a housing catalogue. Henry McPhee lived in one of those houses. He did not know that it would not be for much longer.

Henry's house sat at the end of a dead end street, the house is a standard three bedroom bungalow with an exceptionally large yard. When the street was first being constructed, Henry had some friends within the city's planning department who helped him create the biggest property on the street, without paying extra.

After his first neighbour moved in Henry built a six-foot fence that encircled his entire backyard. The fence was there to keep his neighbours from visiting unexpectedly or snooping in his windows, the day that Jacob arrived, Henry found the man walking into his living room while he was in the shower. Less than two weeks later, the fence was erected. When pressed, he often told people that it was put up to protect his garden from the rabbits that lived in the woods.

Almost two years ago he would have been getting ready to go to work. Instead, he found himself sipping his coffee in the living room. The coffee tasted a little bitter as he looked between his curtains and up the road towards the high school. It was too early for the kids to be arriving yet, but he knew they could not let him forget what had happened. Just last week he’d found a copy of one of the textbooks on his doorstep with a note telling him where to go and how to get there.

They had framed him for burning down the auditorium, after all.

What had he done to deserve such wrath? He’d given Kevin MacDonald, the captain of the school's undefeated hockey team, a well-deserved 'C' on the mid-term. It was not Henry's fault that this had caused him to be benched for poor academics. After he caught the hockey player cheating on the test, giving him a 'C' was the kindest thing he could have done.

On that afternoon, Henry had been on his way out of the auditorium, where he was helping create the sets for the upcoming school production of Hamlet, when he’d been approached by Kevin.

Hey, Mr McPhee! That's a great looking castle you're building. Kevin said with a grin.

Thanks, Mr MacDonald, what can I do for you? Henry said.

Henry could tell that Kevin had a plan. He could see the hate seething in Kevin's eyes as he looked past Henry towards the stage.

You all done in there? The team and I want to have a quick meeting about our game tomorrow night. Kevin said.

Don’t you have a room in the athletic department for that? Henry asked.

Yeah, the basketball team has it booked for the next couple of hours, Kevin added. We won’t be very long, we just have a few game plans to go over.

Sure thing, Kevin. The crew should already be done cleaning up. Just do not touch… anything. The paint is still drying. Henry said.

We'll be extra careful, Kevin said while smiling and bounding past Henry towards the stage.

It was about forty-five minutes later when the fire alarm went off, and everything changed for Henry.

From what the principal told him, the space heater they were using to help dry the castle had been left on and had ignited the castle and the supplies covering the stage.

Henry knew that it was turned off and unplugged. He had done it himself before leaving the auditorium.

He’d told the principal about the hockey team using the room for a meeting, but the principal had seen the team leaving the school at that time to do some training.

Henry had looked at the principal and yelled at him for believing a student, with a reputation for lies and deceit, over an honest teacher with fifteen years experience. The principal had mentioned a pending investigation from the school board and had told Henry to go the staff lounge for the rest of the day.

After he’d been sitting on the sofa reading the paper for the fifth time, Henry grew tired of the sideways glances and whispered conversations he knew were about him. He put the paper on the table stood up and walked out of the room. He’d glanced over his shoulder as he left and saw the concerned looks on the faces of the other teachers.

He’d found the principal standing in the lobby of the school and approached him from behind with a huge grin on his face.

The principal turned as Henry had gotten closer and had begun to open his mouth to speak when Henry looked at him and shook his head.

I think I’m done here. You take this job and shove it. Henry had said as he walked by. You and I both know what happened in that room. It’s a shame that there are no longer any decent role models in this school. I feel sorry for the kids.

Henry McPhee had walked from the school with his head held high, carrying a box of his belongings and teaching aids, he could see kids gathering in the windows along the school to see what was happening.

At the end of the walkway, just before reaching the teachers’ parking lot, Henry had finally looked up, and the only person in the window of the second-floor math class was Kevin, standing with his arms crossed and a big grin on his face. When he noticed Henry look up, Kevin uncrossed his arms and blown him a kiss.

When Henry had seen Kevin uncross his arms, he knew exactly what was going to happen, but he could not help himself from reacting the way that he had.

Henry dropped his box to the ground and swung around to face the window.

Screw you, Kevin! I know what you did! Henry had screamed at the closed window.

Henry's life was not ruined. In fact, he hated to admit it, but Kevin had probably saved his life that day. Over the last few months leading up to getting fired he had started to drink heavily at home in the evenings just to try and cope with the job that he hated.

Henry had really only ever wanted to live a simple life working with his hands and living off of the land.

2

Henry first knew that something was wrong when he was in his basement going for his morning run on the treadmill. He had forgone his usual plan of running 10 kilometres deciding to stay close to home today in case his mother called with news about his grandfather. There was fear that his grandfather had taken a turn for the worse in his battle with cancer. That was a phone call he did not want to miss.

That decision saved his life.

While Henry ran on his treadmill, he usually turned music on his phone to drown out the monotonous noises of the neighbourhood. Nothing distracted Henry more than hearing a door close nearby or a group children screaming down the sidewalk.

Out of the corner of his eye, Henry saw some movement in the window of his basement spare room.

He turned his head to look but did not see anything.

Must have been the neighbour's cat walking on the fence again. he said out loud trying to catch his breathe and keep his pace steady.

Henry saw movement again, only this time on the other side of the house out of his den at the front of the house.

He had not opened the blinds when he had gotten on the treadmill; Henry found the movements of cars, people and even the wind blowing the leaves distracting and would throw his pace off as he was continually trying to watch everything that was happening outside.

He pressed the stop button on the treadmill and stood at the base of it, looking at the shadow cast on the window.

Now that the shadow had stopped moving, Henry was able to make out what appeared to be legs. Someone was standing on his lawn and trying to look in Henry's living room window.

There has never been much of a problem with crime in Merton, but the last factory had closed down a few weeks ago, leaving a large number of people without work. It could have made someone desperate enough to enter a house in the middle of the day.

Henry took a few steps forward and was now standing at the front of the treadmill. He could not tell if his pulse slowed down since he stopped running or if adrenaline had kicked in from the fear that was driving him now.

The shadow of the legs stood motionless against the early morning sun. There was a faint glimmer of sunlight shining on the wall to the left of Henry, and he thought that it was going to be a warm and peaceful day.

For the next few seconds, Henry could do nothing but stare at the shadows of the legs, waiting to see what they were going to do.

As quickly as the legs showed up, they were gone. Apparently, Henry's house had nothing of interest for this suspected burglar.

Henry stood in the middle of his basement for a minute and tried to process what he had just seen.

Who the hell could that have been? he said to himself.

He began to wonder if he should go upstairs and take a peek outside to see what was happening rather than just speculate from the basement.

Henry took a quick survey of the room, making sure that everything was turned off and unplugged. He did not want the blame for burning down his house. In light of what was on his employment record, he would lose any insurance money and face jail time.

Henry glanced into the spare room to look out the window where he had previously seen the movement.

As he was about to turn away, he saw something move again, only this time he knew what it was.

Bobbing up and down along the fence was the bright orange hat of his neighbour, Jacob. He was the real reason that Henry put up the fence between the houses. Sure it was another barrier of protection to keep the rabbits and deer out of his garden, but it was also to keep Jacob from talking to him.

Once Jacob entered your yard to talk, it was next to impossible to get him to stop. Even entering the house only caused Jacob to stop telling his story long enough to wait for you to come out again, and in most cases, he continued to tell his story loud enough for you to hear while you were inside.

Judging by the movement that Henry could see on the other side of the fence, it appeared as though Jacob was trying to climb the hill and go around to the front of the house.

Henry began to walk toward the spare room window if Jacob was hurt over in the backyard; he should offer to help him in some way.

As he approached the window, Henry could tell there was something different about him.

The closer Henry got to the spare room window, the more concerned he grew with the situation.

He has never had much trouble walking before. Henry thought to himself, Maybe he's had a stroke.

At this point, Henry quickened his pace as he rushed over to see what was the matter with his neighbour. Everything else that happened just a few minutes ago was now a distant memory.

When he made it across the room, he gazed out at his neighbour's house and took in what he saw.

He noticed first was that Jacob was not alone in the yard, there appeared to be someone else there with him. From what Henry could tell by looking at the man he was probably homeless, Jacob had been known to take in a few travellers over the years and give them a place to sleep for the night.

What that hell has happened out there? Henry said to himself.

In the far corner of Jacob's yard, Henry could see another person laying down in the most uncomfortable position he could ever imagine. The person was laying on their back, with their feet up on the shed, while their head lay crooked and bent at a hard angle against a tree.

To Henry it looked as though the man decided to climb the tree while in the middle of a drunken binge, only to fall from the tree and pass out. That would be odd behaviour for Jacob and his friends since he is a recovering alcoholic.

Maybe he's fallen off the waggon? he thought. Happens to lots of people.

He returned his attention to his neighbour, who had just taken a hard tumble down the hill.

Henry reached for the clasp that held the window closed. He slid the window open in enough time to hear the snap of a bone as Jacob had landed on the ground.

Jacob! Henry yelled out of the window, Are you alright?

The silence that followed sent shivers up his spine.

It was at that moment that Henry noticed the splash of thick red paint on the side of Jacob's house at the bottom of the stairs.

What the hell is going on over there Jacob? Talk to me. Henry questioned with worry in his voice.

The silence continued causing Henry to grow more concerned.

The growl that followed made Henry's blood freeze as if he had stepped outside in the middle of an Arctic snowstorm.

A pair of eyes quickly popped up to look over the fence. The eyes belonged to Jacob's new friend, and they locked onto Henry.

The hands of the vagrant grabbed hold of the fence, and he pulled himself up. His arms, covered in old scars, fresh cuts and the same paint that was smeared all over Jacob's house.

It was about that time Henry had made the connection, that what he was seeing was not paint, but blood. That is when Henry knew he was in trouble and began to fear for his safety.

The vagrant was no longer just covered in dirt from a life on the street; Henry noticed that a layer of fresh blood covered the man's face and was beginning to thicken in the early morning air. He could see the pain and suffering that he must have endured living on the street as most of his teeth were missing or chipped, there was a fresh slash across his cheek from his eye to his lips that left part of his mouth exposed.

Henry heard another growl from somewhere else in the yard and looked over to see the body that was laying at the base of the shed was now walking towards him with a noticeable limp. It looked as though the entire bone in his shin had been snapped in half when he fell.

With every step the stranger took, Henry winced in anticipation of the scream that he was expecting he would make. A scream that never crossed their lips. There was no pain on his face. Just determination.

He could see the stranger on the fence beginning to reach out to him and growl showing his teeth in a carnal display.

There was still 6 feet between Henry and the stranger's hands, but he did not want to be any closer.

Oh god! Henry groaned as he turned and began to run from the room.

He realised that he was leaving the window open as an invitation for the strangers to enter his house. He turned back to slam it closed and throw across the lock.

Henry just hoped that the fence was high enough to keep Jacob's friends from successfully climbing over.

He had no idea what was going on, but he felt that he should at least let the police know that something terrible had happened next door.

3

Interlude: Helping the homeless

Last night.

Henry's neighbour, Jacob, was a good man. He was a man of his word, a man of honour, who would do anything to help a fellow person who was down on their luck. Henry was always hearing Jacob talk about the people he would bring in off the streets to give them a shower and hot meal. Jacob was the kind of good Samaritan that made Henry feel inadequate every time he heard about them.

It would surprise no one to learn that last night, Jacob brought home another homeless man to keep warm for the evening.

Jacob had been walking back from a quick trip to the grocery store to pick up a loaf of French bread to go with supper when he saw this man huddling in the fetal position under a tree at the edge of the park. He thought he could hear the man sobbing as he approached.

Jacob sat on an exposed root of the tree and looked closely at the man.

The man was laying in the bushes next to the tree, hiding from the people who usually would treat him badly at this time in the evening. He held his hands close to his face as if he was using them as a pillow on the cold hard ground.

Jacob could barely see his eyes as he attempted to talk to the man.

Are you OK in there? Jacob asked.

You know I’m not going to hurt you. Jacob paused for a minute. I just want to help you.

After a few minutes of silence, Jacob added, My name is Jacob Thompson, I live just up the road from here. Maybe some of the guys from the shelter have talked about me before?

The man sat up to talk to him after some coaxing; his face covered in blood from a wound on his hand. Jacob was offering him pieces of his