The Zombie Chronicles 5: Obliteration

By Mark Clodi

A long road trip begins as Nick seeks to find his father, who reportedly died 7 years earlier. There have been sightings of his dad since that time, all centered in Florida. Telecommunications are not what they used to be, so Nick has to make the trip blind, aided by others who want to see him achieve his goal. Nick naively assumes the factions traveling with him are helping him to be nice, but along the way he learns more about on how the new world works. As for the other factions they all seek to find and use Max, if he is still around, for their own ends. They plan to force him to comply or watch the utter destruction of the last of his family.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Mark Clodi
• Release date: Oct 2, 2015
• ISBN: 9781310381317

Mark Clodi

Mark Clodi (born March 30th, 1969) is the author of many zombie apocalypse novels and short stories. At an early age Mark was hooked on fantasy and the pulp fiction of the 'Golden Age of Science Fiction'. While moving around the mid-west with his parents he continued to feed his frenzied reading by buying fiction at yard sales and utilizing the local libraries. The thought of actually becoming a writer struck him at an early age, but he never followed through on his dream until he was much older and well established in his chosen career as a computer programmer. His writing started one day while trading emails back and forth with Mike Keleman, the co-author of his first book. They started assigning chapter numbers to the emails and the rest, as they say, is history.He lives in a small town smack-dab in the middle of Iowa (U.S.A.) tinkering with story ideas, knocking back the occasional rum and pondering his life choices.

Book preview

The Zombie Chronicles 5: Obliteration

by

Mark Clodi

A book set in the Zombie Chronicles universe.

Discover other titles in the Zombie Chronicles Universe at:

https://www.smashwords.com/profile/view/zombieman

A Zombie Chronicles book

Copyright © 2015 by Mark Clodi

First Edition: September 2015 vers 1.0

License Notes

No part of this publication may be reproduced or stored into a retrieval system or transmitted in any form by any means (electric, scanned, photocopied, recording or otherwise) without the prior written approval of the copyright holder and publisher of this book. The distribution of this book without the permission of the publisher is illegal and punishable by law. Thank you for respecting the hard work of the author by purchasing this book. This book is distributed through smashwords.com

Books in the Zombie Chronicles Series

(Recommended reading order)

Collapse

TZC1: Outbreak

TZC2: Discovery

TZC3: Ascension

Undead Advantage

About a Woman

Cayo Elina

TZC4: Emergence

Of the Dead and Dying

TZC5: Obliteration

Abbreviated Table of Contents:

Chapter 1

Chapter 5

Chapter 10

Chapter 15

Chapter 20

Chapter 25

Chapter 30

Chapter 34

Chapter 1

The barrier was a silent, unwavering wall in front of Bill. It had swallowed his adopted son a little over a year ago without a trace. Now it was late August and Bill was sitting on the hood of a Humvee staring at the semi-opaque wall in front of him, as he was wont to do.

Behind him, the driver’s door opened up and Javier popped out of the vehicle. Been a long night. You got meetings today, with the freaks, Draper and Brigadier General Howell.

It’s alright, I dozed a bit out here in the fresh air, Bill said, raising his arm to indicate the road in front of him. This wasn’t a command post or a typical soldier’s picket duty, Bill just liked to spend time in the area to keep watch. They had regular patrols almost all the way around the barrier now, with a few lookout stations and low energy consumption drones to augment them, all to keep an eye on the miles of wall.

Javier snorted at Bill’s allusion to sleep, in addition to being Bill’s adjunct; he was also the man’s son in law, which gave him plenty of leeway in the protocol department. We have people for this, you know. Javier unscrewed a beat up old thermos and poured Bill a steaming cup of coffee. He frowned as Bill poured a liberal amount of corn liquor into his it from a flask he fished out of an inner pocket.

You tell me that every night. Bill took the cup of coffee and nodded, swallowing the bitter mix with a grimace. This almost tastes like coffee? Somebody find a stash of it?

Mostly dandelion and chicory, but, yeah, I think there are some actual beans ground in there too. Javier looked at the gravel road in front of them. Nick, Max’s son and Bill’s adopted son, had disappeared through the barrier in this exact spot. Bill saw him go. Javier was there but had sustained a lethal or near lethal wound and had gone into one of his protective cocoons that day. I almost died out here.

You did die, from what the docs could tell. Doesn’t that bring you comfort? You’re the only one I wasn’t worried about that day. He had seen his son in law come through situations that no one could survive. At the end of the day the kid would be found in a human sized, tough cacoon. Given time the seams would split and he would crawl out fresh as a new born baby, with not a scar on his body.

I doubt he’d come back out the same way. If he comes out at all. Nothing ever comes out of there. Javier raised his own cup to the barrier.

I don’t think he hates me that much. I think if he comes out, it will be here. Unless it is against his will.

You’re assuming he will be able to come out.

The old man and him were arguing, Nick has some place to go, to find his dad, he said. Ruben was going to bring him. I got that much from the two of them. That means Ruben will bring him out; he’s good at that sort of thing and when he does, he’ll bring him to me. Max is dead.

Javier shook his head, I doubt it. He plays his own game, and we hadn’t seen him for years before he showed up here, looking like he was 40 years old, instead of 80.

He did look damn good. They had film of the encounter, thanks to the equipment on the Humvee. It wasn’t great film, but they had been able to identify all the major players who disappeared into the void that day, even the man who had grabbed Nick and Ruben and pulled them through. Who are you, Erik Greene? The driver’s license photo of the man had been found in Iowa’s incomplete records. He had lived in Encampment Wyoming before Z-day and didn’t have any known spouse or children. The records were pretty thin about other family members, and the army’s limited records were of little help either. Still the license was a match and everyone agreed it was him. A name, his last place of residence and his age.

He was an organ donor, Bill said.

I know, we all know. He also came through the barrier; no one comes through the barrier, so we’re talking bad mojo here, Javier said.

We’re not exactly helpless babes ourselves. Bill sat up and dangled his legs over the side of the vehicle’s hood, so he was facing the driver’s side and able to look at Javier more directly. I don’t think it will come down to a fight, though. If it did, well, the barrier is a mighty big area, but I’m sure we could lob in quite a bit of artillery, maybe even a bigger bomb or two.

Bill…

The drones still bother me, though. I think they must have someone inside who hacked into them and took control. That’s bad for us, but would explain why ours never come out…

Bill! Javier said pointing at the barricade down the road.

Bill turned and looked, watching as it shimmered, like a still pond someone tossed a pebble into, the waves forming a man sized ripple in the side. Son of a bitch! I told you they’d come out here! Get on the gun, and the radio!

Bill! Don’t do anything stupid! Javier called moving back into the Humvee and getting on the radio.

Bill dropped off the hood of the vehicle and started jogging towards the barrier, a scant 20 meters away. The army had said that no one was to approach closer than 10 meters away from the shimmering wall, to avoid any possible accidents with touching it. Bill ignored those guidelines and was right in front of the barrier when the man stepped through.

Erik? Erik Green? Bill asked, sure of who the man was.

Slowly the tall, thin zombie took stock of Bill and nodded, I haven’t heard that name in a long, long time, mister. But, yeah, that’s me. These days everyone just calls me ‘Red.'

At his belt he carried two large, very old fashioned revolvers, one slung behind the other, secured to a sturdy looking black leather belt.

I've been waiting for you.

No, not really, you're waiting for your stepson, Max's boy. I understand and don't take it personal, just like I hope you don't take things personal.

Bill spat on the ground, What sort of things?

Bill, I wanted to enlist you for what is about to go down. I wanted you to know that.

Javier came running up, halting ten meters away and pointing a savage looking carbine with a large bore at Red. Bill? 

Leave him, Javier, we're just talking and I don’t want you to spook him.

Plus if you shoot me now most likely I'll fall back into the barrier. You won't shoot me, though.

No, he won't. Bill agreed with a slight smile.

Red's hand moved so quickly it was as if his gun teleported into it instead of being drawn. It boomed out three times, a noise that sounded like a single loud roar and Javier and Bill went down, thrown back into the scrub of the prairie from the force of the blows. Javier had been shot twice, Bill once.

Huh, sorry 'bout your son in law, looks like I might have got him good, Red said stepping up to where Bill was writhing, gut shot, on the ground. Like I said before, this isn't the way I wanted things and it's nothing personal. He sighted down the barrel until the gaping maw filled Bill's vision. A final thundering roar sounded over the land and Red called out, Okay, get this cleaned up. Pull the vehicle inside; we have a use for it.

A group of dead poured out of the barrier and gathered the bodies and immediately pulled them through the wall. A small hovering drone landed on the Humvee's hood and wires snaked out of its belly and wormed their way through the seams of the vehicle. A moment later it started and proceeded slowly through the barricade. By the time the nearest patrol arrived in response to Javier's call, there was nothing left to be seen. 

Chapter 2

Did you review the film, Senator Parker? Jonas asked, trying not to let his exasperation pour through the phone.  

Don't take that tone with me, Major! Of course, I watched the film. It was grainy, but the angle was right. How high was that bird flying? 

Almost 5 kilometers. 

Impressive, how low can we get to the bubble? Elisa Parker was a senator of the United States, which didn't encompass all of the old states yet, in fact, it mostly consisted of the west coast. Others who had run-ins with the U.S. tended to avoid it after that, often referring to it as the 'Zombie Nation.'  

This was cutting it close. We've hit 4 before, but it was a one-way trip. Jonas answered. Anything that flew lower, whether a drone or a manned vehicle tended to crash. The crashes had happened so often that they were not a coincidence. Land vehicles could and did still approach the bubble out in the eastern plains of Wyoming. 

Do you think they let it get that close or that we actually go that close and they couldn't do anything about it? 

I think they let us. 

Humph. Me too. Therefore, that tells us that they wanted us to see what we saw. 

It's a message, Jonas said, I know that I just don't know what the message is. 

A pledge of support against the Iowans? The central part of the old United States was also home to a few 'zombie free' states that also claimed the name United States of America.  

That's what disturbs me because I don't think that's the message at all. 

Recently Jonas had engaged with a group of hold-outs near Colorado Springs, that group had holed up in Cheyenne Mountain and retreated there from a horde of zombies based in Albuquerque. Three people, however, had left and gone to eastern Wyoming, arriving the day after they left the Springs. The two living humans were waiting in the nearby town of Grover, Colorado. Their zombie companion had gone through the barrier and the incident with the Iowans had been taped less than forty minutes previous. Jonas' inability to get to the people in Cheyenne Mountain may have been a failure or just a missed opportunity and Senator Parker was the one who would determine which way that went.  

I don't think she will write me off; she is building bridges, forming a power base and I don't think she is ready to make an example to the others she supports just yet. 

So what do you think the message could be, Major? I know you're going out on a limb to guess here, but give me a couple of interpretations, the Senator said. 

It could be as you said, an olive branch for co-operation against the Iowans. 

That one doesn't count, I want your thinking on this, not my own parroted back at me. 

Loud and clear, it could be a message warning us to back off. They take care of their own and if you fuck with them, you will die. As we probably have the only active surveillance on them right now, no matter what the message, it was for us. 

And your second supposition? 

I'm going far out on a limb here. The message needed to be seen by us, but wasn't for us. 

How so? 

We are a fractioned society. I don't assume others have seen this footage; I know they have. So the message was for someone else, someone to whom it makes more sense. 

Why this patrol? 

Jonas glanced at a small tablet screen while juggling the phone held to his ear, This one was...ah, Bill Carson, and, apparently his son in law, Javier Baca. We have no problem spying on the human patrols, their security is pretty sparse. These two spent a lot of time out at the barrier, in fact, Lieutenant Colonel Carson was in charge of the whole operation; keeping tabs on the Wyoming faction. That much we've learned from infiltrating their systems. 

So he wasn't too bright then, this Carson. I mean, what was he doing out there personally? This is the kind of thing subordinates are for. 

I don't know, ma'am. 

Right, well keep digging, I have trust that you will put it all together when you have enough pieces of the puzzle. Oh and Major? 

Yes? 

We've made excellent progress with Sarah. That was a great job you did in Arvada recovering her and I will not soon forget it. 

Is she...is she, um, related? Matters of relations were critical to the factions in California, who you claimed lineage to determined how quickly you could rise to power and your position in the state. 

She is not. It was unlikely, she appears to be a third or fourth phase child, she's been there all these years, rotting in that attic. 

I'm surprised she can recover at all. Ma'am, I am not sure what her value is. The place had the look of a middle-class hovel, with her queen bee of the soccer moms. 

Yes, the Senator answered, She is recovering, we are taking it slow, very slow. For her first 48 hours, she is doing great. 

Her memories are going to be so dated...I can't see a use for her. Jonas said, trying for more information again. 

Stop fishing, Jonas; it doesn't become you. Rest assured I'll give you all the information you need as it is needed. 

Ma'am. 

Good. Give some thought to who the message could be for, if not for the nation as a whole. 

Yes, ma'am. 

Good night and good luck, Major. 

Thank you, ma'am. I will be in touch soon. Jonas hung up the phone and stared at his tablet for a few minutes more, reading again the little they had on the two men who had been killed. Finally, with a shake of his head he started going through the piles of paperwork his aid, Marla, had set before him. Marla had gained her position through Senator Parker and Jonas expected her to be in the Senator's pocket.  It was forbidden to use 'lineage control' over anyone in the military, but Jonas knew it happened. So far he hadn't felt anyone try to exert overt control him, but sometimes you didn't know when it happened. It was part of what made the nation so ineffective when dealing with outsiders. 

Chapter 3

Something has Iowa all stirred up. You guys will have to lay low here for a couple of hours, Red said. He was talking to a couple of middle-aged men, one was Hispanic and missing his left arm from the middle of the wrist. The stump was raw and red, but no longer covered by bandages. The other man was near 2 meters in height and muscular. Both were wearing patched clothing, broken in boots and carrying worn equipment; they looked like they knew what they were doing. Only one of them was dying, infected by the bite of a zombie only the day before. The two were fast friends and the Hispanic, Juan, had left his family to see the other man, Bill, off. I bet there is more to it than that, though and I think they both know it, Red thought to himself.

You sure I got a few more hours? Hank asked. He studied Red’s face, which was flush and plump. Someone has fed recently. Like many super zombies, Red’s features tended to become sunken and drawn if he went long periods without eating. Now the man’s face was tan and full, nearly that of a living human. 

You got a few more days, at least. I ain’t one for seeing these things too well, as you know. But I can see the infection isn’t going to cause you to fall over any time soon. How are you feeling?

Strong, worn out, ready to fall over and kick ass at the same time. Too much power. Hank said. Both men had killed many zombies protecting their home and the group of survivors in Colorado Springs. As humans killed the undead, they also gained something from the experience. Just as zombies became more powerful from killing and consuming the living, the living gained power from re-killing the dead. In fact, once the process started, humans gained power from killing other humans too, something most of the living had not figured out. These two have, their whole group has. Red thought.

You going to blow up on us? Red asked him. Humans, unlike their undead counterparts, could only hold so much power before they melted down.

Nah. I’m fine. So we move out at night? Hank asked.

"Sure. Or thereabouts. The Iowans never covered the west side of our territory very well, usually just with drones and we can bring those down before we have our little get together. That will buy us a little time once they return to their normal patrol routine.

So are you going to wait here with us and guide us in or will you be back later?

Red seemed to think about this for a moment before he answered, then he nodded and said, I can wait here, probably better if I do, if you don’t mind?

Nah, you’re welcome to sit with us.

Juan moved over to the wood stove in the living room and gave it a longing look.

Probably shouldn’t, Red said, They might come out this far and I’d hate to have you picked up just because you wanted a hot cup of coffee.

Let’s scavenge a bit, Juan. This guy has a lot of stuff crammed in here, there’s gotta be a battery with some juice in it somewhere. The home had a fifth wheel trailer parked outside along with a large diesel truck and many smaller engines in mowers, snow blowers, and other machinery.  Juan could not create a spark from nothing, but if any power remained, even the smallest amount, he could get things working again.

I’ll help. Red offered, The three of us should be able to get something cobbled together.

While they tossed the house, they spoke to each other. Both sides had stopped trying to get information from the other about their respective groups. Red needed Hank and Juan to guide the young man Nick to his father, Max, but he didn’t know all of the details. Hank and Juan, in return, had gained a vaccine against the infectious zombie bites. The vaccine was already with their group, they had been paid in advance. Unfortunately, Hank had been bitten just hours before the vaccine had been turned over. Even with the medicine in the hands of their group it would be days or weeks before it was administered to everyone. Hank consoled himself by thinking that he hadn’t missed being protected by hours, but by weeks.

Tell us where we are going, Hank said as they shifted through the garage.

South. South East. Red quickly amended upon seeing both Hank and Juan raise their heads sharply. Their group was involved in a dustup with some zombies due south of them. Probably Mississippi or Florida.

Probably? Juan asked, lifting an old deep cycle battery from the floor of the garage, This one will work.

It’s an art, this precognition. The guys seeing the stuff say south and east. They say you’ll know more when you get closer.

Aren’t you coming with us? Hank asked.

Me? Hell no! Red shook his head, and added, I can’t. We can’t, I mean we can’t send any dead with you. You might have to pass through Iowa territory; they have a strict ‘no-zed’ policy.

Are you afraid of the Iowans?

I….respect them. They have seen a lot of fighting. They’ve pretty much eliminated all the zombies that hit them on the west side and that ain’t no small thing. They have plenty of veteran fighters…

But? Hank asked, What aren’t you telling us?

Red shook his head, But...for every one they took out on the west, there are five on their eastern border. I swear if they hadn’t been proactive striking over the river into Illinois they would have fallen three years ago.

That bad?

They’ve destroyed ever bridge they can get to over the Mississippi and the river is a pretty effective barricade against the shambling dead. It doesn’t keep the supers out, but the thing is, further south along the west bank is controlled by another zombie faction and he’s doing his damnedest to convince the Iowans they need to make an alliance with him. Right now they have a de-facto cease-fire, so you should be okay passing through his territory. The Iowan’s have built a political machine based on ‘Not Even One’, their slogan regarding zombies. Consorting with supers is considered treason, which is punishable by death. It happens, at least from what our brothers to the south have let slip, but I’ll be damned if they’ve even sent us so much as an emissary.

So you don’t actually think the Iowans will let us through then? I mean it’s like your little territory, they may let us in, but not out again? Hank asked.

Maybe. You probably shouldn’t let them know you’re infected.

Juan had set three car batteries up on the work bench, the deep cell was on one end and he had battery cables ready to link all three of them together. Taking his knife out of his pocket he set the blade against the stump of his wrist and cut a small hole in his skin.

Ah. The noise escaped his mouth as if he were relieving pressure in his arm. A small amount of blood trickled out and he pressed his stump against the positive terminal, set his knife down and got ready to connect the battery cable with his other hand.

Here, let me do that, Hank said, reaching for the cable.

No. I got it, I have to do it at just the moment, you can’t see it. Juan said, brushing Hank off.

Well, what can I do?

Find a hot plate, Juan answered.

Red pointed to a shelf, Over there. I saw something that looked like one.

Hank went to where he pointed and found a flat hot plate with a cord, reading from the label he said, Induction hot plate. Hm, yeah so we need a plug and a ferrous pot.

Red held up a car inverter plug and Juan said, There’s a speckled blue coffee pot in the house, it will work. Bring the coffee too.

Hank trotted back over to the house and got the coffee pot, he filled it with water and grounds of the seven year old coffee. He also grabbed the sugar, a tube of powdered creamer and cups before he headed back to the garage. When he walked in Red and Juan had the entire rig set up and ready to go. Juan’s stump was still on the battery post. The two men were talking.

It’ll probably grow back. That’s the itching you’re feeling. Red said.

Si, I think the bone is poking through, look, Juan said and Red leaned over the battery terminal.

Bones. Yeah, both of them. I wouldn’t want to be you over the next couple of days.

Why?

Well, we have a regenerator, he says it hurts like hell. His theory is that his body is trying to teach him not to get parts of it lopped off.

Juan laughed, That’s good news, no? I’d rather have a hand with a few days of a pain than lose it forever.

You think your hand will grow back? Hank asked.

Si.

Well, that’s great news! Maybe I’ll fight off this… Hank’s hand went to his shoulder, right where it met his neck.

The other men looked at the floor before Juan answered, Maybe. In a voice that didn’t mean ‘maybe’ at all.

Oh, alright, I’ll try not to get my hopes up. Pessimist. I’m surrounded by pessimists.

Realists, Red said. Don’t let us get you down. You’ve got real coffee and real sugar, plus powdered creamer, so life isn’t all bad.

No, it’s actually pretty good. There’s oatmeal too, probably still good. I know if the women were here they could whip up a feast with what’s in that kitchen, but I’ll settle for gamey rabbit, coffee, and oatmeal.

Si, we’ve had worse.

And liked it when we got it too.

So, Red, our best bet will be to skirt the Iowa territory follow it south until we run into this other warlord who is ‘pro-life.’ When we get through his territory, we go over the Mississippi and the kid will know where to go from there?

Ah…well, I don’t know if it will be that easy.

Hank waved his arm around after setting the consumables down. No, I don’t doubt it will. First off, how are we getting there? If you think we can walk to Miami before I join team Zed, you’re probably wrong.

We have the convertible, Juan said, naming the car they had left a few miles away before sneaking up to where they were now.

Is that our plan? Hank asked Red.

With a shake of his head, No, we’ve got a new vehicle for you. A Humvee, old but reliable and four wheel drive. The tanks will be filled and we’ll give you topped off fuel cans to carry. It has a range of about 500 kilometers. The fuel we give you should take you another 1000.

A whole fifteen hundred kilometers, that’s like 900 miles. How do we get the other fifteen hundred miles? Can’t you break out a plane for us?

Can you fly a plane? Red asked both men shook their heads. Okay, then driving it is. I know 600 miles isn’t enough to get you to the Gulf, but you might pick up more fuel along the way.

Both Hank and Juan laughed at that.

Okay, fine, yeah, I’m leaving it in your hands, we’re just giving you a head start. You’ll have to improvise. Red pointed at the cobbled together batteries and coffee pot, which was starting to perk. You’re good at improvising.

Hank nodded, Yeah, okay. Time is a factor. The roads aren’t so good either. I doubt we’ll get 900 miles in a straight line these days, I figure we’ll only make a kilometer towards our destination for every kilometer we spend going out of our way. If we are lucky, incredibly lucky, we’ll get to the Mississippi before we run out fuel.

Probably. Fuel is coming up from the south. The…warlord is selling it discretely to the Iowans. So you can find some.

Hank straightened up, Wait a minute! Wait just a minute here. I know a thing or two about fuel and that’s where you get your aviation fuel from, isn’t it?

Red’s usual death mask was unreadable as he answered, I’m afraid I can’t confirm that, Hank.

Shit, you just did. Well, that’s great, more good news, we might be able to get more fuel down there, especially if they know it’s helping you out.

Hank, you can’t go spouting off that you’re helping us out. This is a discrete mission. It’s supposed to be secret.

Why?

It…it just has to be. There are some people out there who do not what this to happen. We are trying to be sneaky and get this done before anyone even realizes it’s going on. We’re doing our best to help you out.

That doesn’t begin to explain why it needs to be secret.

No, it doesn’t.

Does it have to do with the Californians?

"Probably, I’m not privy to everything everyone knows. If you