The Beginning of the End: Michala's Story Book 1

By Pamela Nash Burch

The Beginning of the End: Michala's Story is told by Michala Louise Summers, who suffered a severe cranial injury as a child and has a sort of 6th sense that doesn't always work. As a sixth grader starting a new school she was mistaken for a boy, due in part to her shaved head and in part to her nickname Mich. Her bully follows her to college and continues to torment her until things turn topsy turvy. This is Mich's story, her journey, following the downfall of her world when a virus suddenly appears in a third world country and sets off her 6th sense. The virus turns infected people into zombies and quickly begins to spread around the globe. Mich listens to her 6th sense making preparations and thinks she has things all worked out to be safe and survive. However, Mich quickly learns that no matter how much you prepare you can never cover all possibilities! Along the way she finds out her cousin is now a zombie, forms new friendships, is kidnapped, and, of all things, begins a relationship. BUT sometimes survivors are more dangerous than zombies...

• Language: English
• Publisher: Pamela Nash Burch
• Release date: Feb 3, 2016
• ISBN: 9781311028969

Pamela Nash Burch

I'm Pamela Nash Burch, aka LadyPamela. I was born in Pennsylvania and currently reside in the Missouri Bootheel. I have 4 children, 3 grandchildren, 3 dogs, and 1 cat. I've had a wide variety of pets over the years including rabbits, guinea pigs, hamsters, ferrets, birds, assorted fish, hermit crabs, gerbils, a hissing cockroach, and a possum. My tastes are eclectic! (LOL)Those that know me, know I am a zombie fanatic! Just ask my family! (LOL) If they have doubts on presents they always select something with a zombie theme. Come visit my home and you will see my livingroom filled with zombie items...from glassware to toys to metal signs to zombie chia pets. OH! And don't forget the swords on the wall because you just never know...One of my best friends, Rhonda Miller, is also a published author. She encouraged me to go for my dream and publish! I am also a member of the now defunct group, Lost Zombies, and working with them I am a contributing author to the zombie book "Dead Inside, Do Not Enter: Notes from the Zombie Apocalypse," which is available in print from select retailers.

Book preview

This story is dedicated to my family, my friends, my neighbors, and my town. They are the reason I write to escape the madness! (Just joking! LOL) But seriously they are my inspiration and without them and their encouragement I would not have written this story.

The characters and events portrayed in this book are fictitious. However, some similarity to real persons, living or (un)dead, may or may not be coincidental and intended! (Be honest, you know you like seeing your names in print! LOL)

I sincerely hope you, dear reader, enjoy reading the story I have set to paper and I would hope you find yourself wanting to read more! Thank you!

Journal Prologue

This is my story. Or at least this is MY version of the events that led up to the fall of civilization as we once knew it. However messed up and crappy as it was, it was ours. Now it’s theirs. I just hope someone will still be alive to read the words I’m writing. But even if the worst comes to pass and no one is left alive, this story, my story, my journal, helped keep me sane during all of this. Without this release, well honestly, I don’t think I would have made it as far as I did.

Please forgive me, dear friend, if my timeline is a bit off. You see when the world goes to Hell one tends to lose track of time. I mean time, in the traditional sense of the word, quickly falls to the wayside. It’s daylight or darkness. Who cares to know that I was attacked at 2:57pm? As long as I tell you it happened and how it happened, that’s really all that matters, right? What is time really when you are fighting to survive in a world gone mad?

Okay, enough of this babbling. Read on, my friend, so you can understand what happened to civilization, to humanity, and to me.

Journal Entry 1

The outbreak started like so many others have. Ignored. (At first.) It wasn’t about us so why care?

It was a small country in Africa.

Its name and location unknown to the majority of the world.

The virus was just another in a long list of viruses that tended to plague third world countries.

Nothing to concern the average American citizen, whom couldn’t even be bothered to care about his or her fellow American let alone some faceless individuals half a world away.

Seriously, why should it? It was 1000’s of miles away. An ocean away even!

The virus received a small blurb in the newspaper in a section no one ever read. It was covered on the 5pm news, which by the way had the lowest viewing numbers, in a news report that lasted a whole two minutes. Even the news reporter appeared bored and disinterested in the story he was reading:

The town of Bafwasende, in the Democratic Republic of the Congo, located in Central Africa, reports a viral outbreak of unknown origin. Authorities have yet to determine the cause or the type of virus, but state it appears to have a very high infection rate. This has local authorities very concerned, but so far seems to be confined to this one area. Soldiers are stationed to prevent the virus from spreading. Assistance has been requested from the United Nations, who is sending a team to handle the outbreak. We will update you as we get more information. And now back to you, Dave.

No one paid any attention and those that did either called it racial cleansing or God’s wrath and quickly moved on to other more pressing matters. Those types of people, whom I always thought had low IQs, also tended to have short attention spans anyways.

The only reason I paid attention was because my college professor told us to watch the news and report on anything interesting that caught our fancy. This story didn’t really catch my fancy as the professor had put it but I assumed everyone would pick sports or politics and since I abhorred both, this seemed like a logical choice.

I jotted down what the reporter had said, made a note to look up the country, double check the spelling and pronunciation, and be prepared for class on Friday.

My notes said:

1. Virus - unknown origin, unknown type

2. High infection rate

3. Confined to Bafwasende – where? Spelling? Pronunciation?

4. Soldiers surrounding area – is that normal?

5. UN sending help

Then I tossed my notebook aside and basically forgot about the virus and the assignment for the rest of the evening. I lost myself in the latest Stephen King novel and fell asleep dreaming I was in the story.

Journal Entry 2

Thursday I woke up, dressed, brushed my teeth, grabbed my notebook, and headed to the library. Yes, I was one of those old-fashioned people that actually did research at the library. The virus was reported yesterday, Wednesday. I began to think of questions on the short three block drive to the library. If it has a high infection rate does it also have a high mortality rate? I wonder why there was no mention. Was it too early yet to know something like that? But if you can survive the virus, why the fuss with the soldiers and the UN? Something made the hair on the back of my neck stand on end. I was certain there would be more to this story. I parked at the library and went in. I waved at the librarian and headed over to the encyclopedias to locate information on the town.

I lost all track of time in the library and before I knew it the lights were blinking to announce the library would be closing. Goodness! Where had the day gone?

My tummy was growling so before heading home I went to the local drive through. A hamburger, fries, and a chocolate shake would quench my hunger.

The remainder of Thursday evening was uneventful. There was no further news coverage on the outbreak. Did this mean it had been determined it was nothing to worry about? I really did not believe that.

I searched all the television channels. I flipped radio dials. I even listened to the nut case news stories but they only mentioned another alien abduction – no anal probes this time – and a Big Foot sighting. Seems Big Foot had taken to stealing picnic baskets and was being chased by the park service. I rolled my eyes and laughed to myself. Of course, Big Foot was also sounding a lot like the cartoon character Yogi Bear – did they really think the public would not catch that? But then again the people that listened to this stuff most likely would have no idea who Yogi Bear was in the first place.

Laughing to myself I began to write up my information. I had a hard time reading some of my notes. I really needed to either write neater or make photo copies! At least the computer word processing program made my papers look professional! I laughed again and had to add several words to the database so the program would stop telling me they were spelled incorrectly. Yes, I do own a computer but I do not have Internet. It was an expense I had never found the need to justify. I had the school computer lab and the library, so why did I need to waste money on something I could use for free?

After that I tried to watch some old reruns of The Big Bang Theory. Sheldon normally made me laugh and forget everything else but tonight I couldn’t concentrate on any of the jokes. I just could not stop thinking about the outbreak. Bazinga! Every time I thought of it the hair on the back of my neck stood on end. I had a bad feeling and it was growing. It was gnawing at me and I didn’t want to figure out why. I shook my head and sighed.

I turned off the TV and debated taking a sleeping pill. I hated to use them but Doc said I should if I knew I would have trouble sleeping. It’s not like they were those super strong ones. You know the ones, they leave the person groggy the next day, they might make the person sleep walk, or even do any number of crazy things. I heard stories about one woman who drove her car to the drive through and ordered ice cream sound asleep. Another guy said he sleep walked and always pissed in the livingroom corner when he took those strong ones! Heck, mine were so mild that sometimes they didn’t even seem to work.

I shrugged my shoulders and downed the pill along with a glass of milk. I turned the radio on low, stripped off my clothes, and slipped into bed. It didn’t take long for me to fall fast asleep. However, my dreams were fitful and I tossed and turned.

Journal Entry 3

Friday finally arrived. The alarm woke me up with its rooster call at 8am. I stretched and scratched then rolled out of bed. I turned on the shower and stepped in. Giggling like a naughty child I pee’d in the shower. I don’t know why I do that but for some crazy reason I always do. I rolled my eyes at myself and started to scrub my hair. Once again I had forgotten to take the scrunchie out and brush my hair before getting in the shower. It was tangled and knotted. Brushing it was going to be a chore again. I thought about getting it cut but quickly decided against it. I’d spent too many years with short hair and I was not cutting my hair again unless I had to. Crème rinse and detangler would have to do the trick.

I turned off the water and grabbed the towels. One for my hair and one for me. A quick turban and my locks were under control until I was ready to deal with them. I dried off and then rubbed lotion on. The lotion helped keep moisture in my skin so my scars were less noticeable. I think a few of them actually looked faded compared to how they used to look all red and angry.

I quickly dressed in jeans and a t-shirt. I looked at myself in the mirror. I could still see my curves even under the baggy t-shirt. That wasn’t good enough though. He would be there. I was still so self-conscience around him even after all these years. Why was I still letting him control me? I grimaced but decided to wear a jacket to class. Today was not the day to deal with my hang ups.

I took the turban off and let my hair fall down. It was almost to my waist. It was brown with streaks of gold from the sun. I brushed it until it was tamed and under control. Then I braided it down my right side.

I didn’t wear make-up as it was too much trouble. Chapstick was the only thing I ever used, aside from my lotion. I didn’t even really care for perfume. See, I’m not a girly girl. I never have been. I just don’t have time for that nonsense. Natural is good, clean, and healthy. Oh, don’t get me wrong! I do own make-up and I do use deodorant! Just not those silly flavors. Give me a clean powder scent and I’m happy.

I sat down with a bowl of cereal and flipped on the radio. I searched for an update. Nothing. I turned on the TV. Those silly daytime shows were doing puff news stories on a puppy rescued from a sewer. The one with the popular blonde ex-soap opera star even had the puppy and its owner on the show. How sickeningly sweet.

I was disappointed that I did not have a follow up to add to my current events report for class. I frowned and pouted a little. I guess I was being self-centered in wanting a follow up. In all honesty the lack of a follow up was probably a good thing for those African citizens. Hopefully this meant the UN sent doctors who had the whole thing under control and everyone was alright.

Chastising myself, I gathered up my stuff and headed to the college. I really don’t remember the 30 minute drive there on the Interstate, which was pretty scary when you stop and think about it. I also don’t remember the walk from the parking lot. I don’t remember tucking my braid up in my cap. Or putting on my oversized jacket and zipping it up. But suddenly I was at the door of my classroom.

I had traveled to class in a total daze and that worried me. It seemed my blackouts or dazes or whatever you wanted to call them had come back again. It actually scared me but then when I looked into the classroom my fear was replaced with a horrible feeling in the pit of my stomach.

He was here already.

I felt like throwing up or running away. I sighed, swallowed a bit of bile, and forced myself inside. I normally sat in the back of the room to avoid being called on but that meant passing him. I hesitated and thought of sitting up front but that would still leave me with a target on my back. Hellfire and damnation. It was better to sit behind him and pray he forgot I existed. I stared down at my feet.

As I walked down the row past him he stuck out his foot in an attempt to trip me.

Real funny. Grow up, Ben. We’re adults now, I grumbled as I hopped over his foot.

He laughed and replied, Quit ‘ur whining, pussy boy. His crew of misfits all laughed and high-fived each other.

I sank into my chair and thought to myself what had I done to deserve him? Who did I piss off in the cosmos to make them sick Ben on me? Why, dammit, why?

You see Ben Cooper, ex-football player and head asshole, had been my own personal virus since I first moved to the Ville in the sixth grade. The day I met him it started. I didn’t deserve it and he didn’t even know me! Heck, he still did not know me!

Professor Adams cleared his throat signaling the start of class and asked who had news. Hands shot up in the air. I slowly raised my hand and he gave me a surprised look and called on me immediately.

I regretted raising my hand. I took a deep breath, stood up, and started, The 5pm news on Wednesday had an interesting report on a viral outbreak in….

Ben and his buddies cut me off, Boring! We need to discuss sports!

Elizabeth Parker, an avowed member of the Republican Party since high school Economics class, interrupted them. What the President is doing is the news we need to discuss! Sports games are fixed. Anyone with intelligence knows that!

I sighed, pulled the brim of my hat further down on my face, and slumped back down into my seat as the argument started. I should have changed classes that first day when I saw Ben and his posse. Why didn’t I? I hung my head down. I didn’t change classes because I was afraid of confrontations…with anyone. My therapist said I needed to learn to take charge but that was easier said than done. Especially here at the college and in the Ville. Life was easier when no one knew you existed. When you were invisible.

Professor Adams let them argue for what seemed like the entire class period only stopping them when the name calling began. Then he took control, instructed everyone to pass their reports forward, and hurriedly began discussing the chapters we were supposed to have read. Supposed to have read being the key thing. Very few students read the chapters and I’m ashamed to say that for once I was also one of them.

I sat back and zoned out to his droning voice. All I could think of was the virus. What was it? What caused it? What was happening now? Was it over? Were those people okay? Wouldn’t the news report if it had been cleared up? Or was that not interesting enough to rate airtime?

I didn’t even notice the class leave or hear Ben’s snide comments as he pointed in my direction. I was in my own little dream world imagining what was happening with the virus. In my dream I worked for the World Health Organization (WHO). I was WHOs version of Dr. House solving things others could not.

I loved the mysteries that House and his team solved on my television each week. I didn’t care that they were all reruns now since the series had ended. I wanted to be like Dr. House because he would have known how to handle Ben and put him in his place. Dr. House would have said or done something witty to make Ben the brunt of the joke. It would have been great to see the entire class laughing at Ben. To see him being treated like crap instead of me. Just one time to see that. It would be lovely.

In the dream I stepped off the plane into chaos and hell. I quickly went to work assigning the team to collect samples and begin eliminating viruses. I wrote on the white board and marked off things that did not fit. Finally after only a mere 12 hours I had solved the case, found the cure, and saved the day! I was given numerous humanitarian awards. I was a hero! Even Ben and his posse respected me!

Someone coughing brought me back to the present.

I looked around the room shocked to find myself alone with the janitor. I grabbed my stuff and mumbled, Sorry, as I raced out of the room.

I was still running when I reached my car. I jumped inside and finally started to calm down. I took off my hat and let my braid fall, running my fingers down its length. Finally settled and calm, I made myself pay attention on the drive back home.

I guess I should backtrack in my story and tell you who I am. Might be helpful, huh?

I am Mich Summers. The Mich is pronounced as Mike. Well, actually it’s Michala, pronounced as Mi-kay-la, so that’s where the Mike pronunciation comes from. I’m 20 years old, soon to be 21, and a freshman at Smithsboro Community College. I’m 5 foot 7 inches tall and weigh 197 pounds. Like I said before I’m not a girly girl nor am I one of those doll types.

Okay, some of you are now asking yourselves why does Ben Cooper think she is a boy? Quite honestly put, Ben Cooper is stupid! Had he bothered to get to know me in the sixth grade he would know I am definitely not a male.

When I was in fifth grade, I was in a car crash that killed my parents. I spent most of the fifth grade and the following summer in the hospital hooked up to wires and tubes. I almost died. No, I technically had died in that crash. They, my heroes, used the Jaws of Life and had to resuscitate me when I was finally cut free from the crash. I had so many injuries the doctors gave me a very low chance of survival.

A piece of metal had pierced my lower abdomen neatly severing my uterus in two. It made life interesting to say the least. No worries about birth control because the doctors gave me a zero chance of ever conceiving and even if I beat the odds and did, they said there was no chance I could carry a fetus to term. That part never really bothered me. Actually, I had never given it much thought. I also never really had a menstrual cycle either because of this. And, my friend, that part was heavenly to me