Blood Type Infected 1 - No Future For Man: Blood Type Infected, #1

By Matthew Marchon

What kind of self-respecting zombie can be stopped with a bullet to the brain?

This isn't your typical, whining little weakling trying to navigate his way through a zombie infested dystopian society. This is the epicenter of the outbreak, where your average novel doesn't dare venture. This is Noah Britton fighting his way through the heart of the zombie freakin' apocalypse.

The high school is on lockdown but the infection has already invaded its borders. It's too late. Screams echo through the halls, blood stains the lockers, the dead don't die for long. Mutilated, half eaten corpses wander the halls in search of the living. These aren't your normal slow moving corpses that trudge along hoping for victims. No. They run faster. Fight harder. Know no pain. Show no weakness. Offer no reprieve.

Noah must make the ultimate sacrifice and decide who to save and who to leave behind. What ranks higher in these desperate times; friendship or strategy? Can old rivals put aside their differences and work together for the greater good or will human emotions lead to the end of the world as we know it?

The edge of your seat intensity never dies as Noah, his neurotic bus driver, his best friends, his worst enemies, the girl he likes, the girl he hates or loves or who the hell even knows anymore and a power hungry rival desperate for control all try to co-inhabit a school bus in search of a safe haven that may no longer exist.

Gruesome. Intense. Graphic and Brutally violent. Yet emotionally driven with enough heart to sustain a dying species taken off life support. The characters tear themselves from the pages, forcing their way into your heart, demanding you continue when it all gets to be too much. This is hope. This is strength. This is the end. And it's only the beginning.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Orange Rock Publishing
• Release date: Sep 28, 2018
• ISBN: 9781386715481

Book preview

CHAPTER 1

T

he school halls feel different today. That type of different you can’t describe because there’s no logical reason behind it. But it’s there, some ominous aura casting itself over not just our dot on the map but all of mankind. I don’t know, maybe I’m losing it and it’s just the thunderclouds dumping rain on us like waterfalls. Storms come and go. This time it feels like there’s no end in sight, like if I wasn’t here making my way through the strangely somber halls to homeroom, I’d be living up to my name and building the second coming of Noah’s Ark in my backyard.

They don’t close the Leyland County Hospital for anything, it’s a pretty big county. But to take it a step further and lock the building down with patients inside, all the while instructing us to remain calm, not gonna happen. We’re human, we panic easily. I want to believe it’s another bomb scare but this one feels different.

Mom got called in sometime early this morning. The vague note she left on the table mentioned something about overtime. When you’re a single mother trying to pay the bills on a nurse’s salary, you take whatever they’ll give.

Hey, Paul! I shout down the hallway, hoping he can hear me over the water dripping from his shaggy hair. It doesn’t seem to register, Jenny has to actually tug his arm to get him to pay attention. Any other day I’d figure he woke up on the wrong side of the bed but not today. Whatever I’m feeling in my bones is affecting him too. And his girlfriend. Her eyes are glued to her phone which yeah, typical teenager but not Jenny, she’s the one who makes everyone put them in a basket so we can all share quality time with one another. Paul finally notices me jogging over and gives a subtle head nod like I’m some stranger.

You alright buddy? I ask, tapping him on the arm. You seem kind of out of it.

It’s my dad, he says, a little too seriously. It’s his day off but they called him in this morning. It was pandemonium. The house phone, his cell, private line in his office. He just threw his clothes on and left.

Mine too, Jenny says, barely shifting her eyes from whatever she’s looking at on her phone. Her dad doesn’t work at the hospital but I get what she means, he’s military, he must have rushed out the door this morning too.

It’s weird, Noah. I went to bring him breakfast, they wouldn’t even let me in the building. They had cops and a SWAT team or something guarding the doors. Her dad just told me to get to school and not leave until he gives her the okay.

It’s gotta be another bomb threat, like last year.

No, he says with a tense shake of his head, they were aiming inside. They weren’t trying to keep someone out of the building, they were trying to keep someone in.

You know what, I bet it’s just some dude with a gun, mad about a medical bill he can’t afford. He’s probably threatening to kill himself. You know how the cops overreact.

Yeah. Yeah, you’re probably right.

I think it’s a hostage situation. Jenny still won’t take her eyes off the screen. They haven’t said it yet but that’s the only thing it can be.

We’re probably worried about nothing. I know I’m lying the second the words leave my lips. Whatever it is, they’ve got it under control. With that many guns, I say, looking over Jenny’s shoulder at the live coverage, I don’t care what kind of drugs you’re on, you get shot that many times, you’re done.

And your dad’s like freakin’ Rambo on steroids. No one’s getting past him, Paul says with a smile, putting his arm around Jenny’s shoulder. Hey, I gotta get to homeroom and do some last minute cramming for chemistry, but I’ll call my Dad after, see what I can find out.

Sounds good. I’ll see you guys in English.

I’m trying to play it cool for his sake because Paul’s an overthinker who thinks way too much about overthinking things he shouldn’t be thinking about. Something’s just not sitting right with me. His dad is a lead surgeon, if they’re not letting his son bring him a damn bagel, something’s wrong. Not that the SWAT team guarding the entrance sounds normal either. And what the hell is Jenny’s dad doing there? You know what, they probably just don’t want another suicide on their hands, bad for business and whatnot. But if that were the case they’d have a negotiator, not a bunch of soldiers with guns.

I’m not the only one wondering what’s going on. Everyone seems a little withdrawn today, half of them probably passed the hospital on their way in. It’s freakin’ California, there’s always something going on, we shouldn’t be so uneasy.

A couple classrooms down I spot Caylee. When don’t I? It’s like my heart has out sensors for that girl. I’ve had a crush on her since her first day here even though I doubt she knows I exist. We’ve never officially talked, unless you count her thanking me when I hold the door for her. I don’t know, after a few bad experiences with girls, I’ve learned to keep my distance. Being forgotten is easier than being hurt. I thought Michelle was the greatest thing to ever happen to me but she dumped me the second I didn’t get a rich kid allowance anymore. Perhaps my heart isn’t the greatest judge of character.

Should I try to say something? No, she’s with a couple friends, I better not. Although, she does seem worried. Maybe I can help. Wow, I really need to stop eavesdropping and just talk to her like a normal person, it’s not like she’s gonna bite. Maybe I will go talk to her. In just a second. A minute. Maybe tomorrow. There’s always next week. Man, I suck!

Oh crap.

By the time I notice the door swinging open, it’s too late. It’s not like the thing’s camouflaged or anything. I mean, it’s mostly glass, I really should have seen the hottest girl in school, or pretty much ever, opening it from the other side.

Move, fucktard, she says after a delayed moment of silence where I could have sworn she was going to apologize. Hey, I said she was hot, never said she was nice. Trying to walk here.

She brushes past me, a look of annoyance plastered on her otherwise flawless face. Felecia Harmon. That, right there, is the reason the female species terrifies me. How can something so beautiful be so mean? She wouldn’t talk to me if we were alone on some deserted island. I’d have to befriend a coconut, or perhaps a pineapple. Either way, it’d be awkward when I got hungry and decided to eat my only friend.

I grab for my backpack before realizing the door is swinging open again. Note to self, do not stand in doorways. It smashes into my hand. This is supposed to be some freshman twerp, not me. I’ll be a senior in a few months. Normally my days aren’t like this, I swear, people like me.

Holding my aching hand, I step away from the door and look up to see one of the few people in this world who hates the fact that I’m even in existence, Neil Buckley. No, I take that back, Neil doesn’t hate me, his father does and that sentiment was passed down to the next generation. His great grandkids will piss on my grave after using it for target practice because every kid should get their first rifle by the time they can crawl. The fact that I beat Buckley Senior’s time on the mile doesn’t help matters any. Naturally, if anyone was to dethrone his record, it was supposed to be his son. Neil’s always looked at me as his competition when in reality it’s his evil soulless bastard of a father he’s been trying to beat all these years. You know how you can tell you’re an evil soulless bastard? When you’re the one manufacturing the guns kids keep using to shoot up schools. Not that my dad’s much better seeing as how he’s the one defending them in court which is why my mom left but that’s a whole other story we won’t get into right now.

Well if it isn’t Mr. Quits While He’s Ahead, Noah Britton. Out of nowhere, he kicks my backpack down the hall and walks off. Over his shoulder he adds, you’re out of practice, maybe you should run after it.

I think about saying something, maybe even taking a swing at him to knock that smug smirk off his face, but I would have needed to decide a lot faster because there he goes around the corner. Is he really too stupid to realize I didn’t quit of my own volition? Is he too stupid to know what volition means? My head shakes involuntarily before I reach for my bag. At least he kicks like a girl. No wonder he doesn’t play soccer. Never mind, girls on the soccer team could probably kick my testicles into my esophagus, bad analogy.

Wait, why is my backpack floating towards me? I did it, I’ve finally mastered the Force. After all these years, I’ve done it. Someone get me a lightsaber, I’m ready. Oh, I think I maybe might have jumped to conclusions. My eyes travel from the backpack, to the hand holding it, up the arm to the shoulder and finally the face of the person handing it to me. We have a good news, bad news situation on our hands. Unfortunately, I have yet to become a Jedi but there’s a silver lining here.

I think you dropped this. It’s Caylee.

Oh my god, what do I do? She’s talking to me. I attempt a ‘thank you’ but I’m pretty sure I’m just smiling like she flashed me a boob, or better yet both of them because one would just be awkward. I guess flashing me randomly would be too but that’s beside the point. Why aren’t words working?

Eventually, I reach out for it, my backpack, not her boob, still trying to form some kind of coherent thought here. Just to clear things up, her boob is in no way exposed. She’s merely handing me the backpack that Captain Dipshit punted five feet down the hall with his wussy excuse for a kick. I hope he stubbed his toe in the process.

I swear, she says with an enormous grin, it just got up and ran down the hall.

I laugh, which, okay, that’s better than nothing. Thank you. Hey, look at that, words. He doesn’t like me very much.

So he takes it out on your backpack?

Yeah, I giggle. Damn it, I just giggled. Dudes don’t giggle. I clear my throat, hoping maybe she’ll think I swallowed a fly causing me to lose my voice for a split second. Girlie sounding squeaks can’t be a turn on. He figures I beat him on the track, maybe he can beat me at soccer.

I’m long distance actually. She leans in to whisper something and I gladly move closer to the girl of my dreams. He still throws temper tantrums when he doesn’t break your record. At least once a week. You don’t run anymore?

No, just kinda lost time for it, I lie. With work and everything.

You should make time. She’s smiling at me. Caylee Martinez is smiling at me. And flirting with me? I’m pretty sure she’s flirting. Maybe we could warm up together.

Yeah. That sounds like enough of a reason to me. I’ll be there. But I won’t, Big Bastard Buckley made sure of that. I’m Noah by the way, if you didn’t know my name, which you probably do considering you knew who I was but, I’m rambling.

It’s okay. And yeah, I know who you are. I’m Caylee. You don’t, but she stops abruptly and giggles, so at least I’m not the only one. Then again she’s a girl so not only is it allowed, it’s actually cute. Are you, seeing anybody? Like a girl, not, I don’t know, dead people or something. Um... She puts her hand to her forehead and brushes some wayward hairs aside but lets her hand linger there to cover up her blushing cheeks. Basically what I’m trying to ask is if you have a girlfriend.

No. No, no I don’t. Could I have answered that question any faster? I mean, nah, I’m single, right now, just playing the field.

Cool. She nods, letting her eyes connect with mine for a brief second. I can tell she wants to say something more but she’s as nervous as I am, so I speak instead.

Do you maybe wanna hang out sometime? You know, if you’re single too.

I’m not doing anything tonight.

Tonight? I don’t get out of work until eight.

Eight works for me. Eight’s good. I can do eight.

Okay, I smile. So 6:30 then?

She laughs a little, probably realizing how many times she said eight and catching my joke, I hope. Does she actually like me?

Here’s my number.

I look down at the piece of paper she’s been holding. Could she have really come up to me with the intent of giving me her number? Who walks around with their phone number on a piece of paper? This was premeditated. It had to be.

She waves goodbye and takes off the second I grab the paper from her delicate fingers. I watch her scurry over to her friends, squealing, I did it, I did it. They look almost as happy as she does. It puts the biggest smile on my face. I can’t get rid of it either. People are gonna think I farted and they just haven’t smelled it yet. Man, I gotta try to stop smiling. The second I turn around I’m given a reason to.

Aw, how cute. Noah’s got a little date. I swear, Felecia just walked in the other direction, what the hell is she doing back here? You do know Caylee’s a virgin, don’t you? Better blow a load in the sink first. She must have gone to her locker because her sweater is gone, revealing a spaghetti strap shirt that shows off enough skin to make me blush. Uh oh, I think I’m staring, possibly drooling. Time to look away. You want a picture to help you along or something?

That’s quite alright, I mumble, looking down at her pink flip flops. Man, I hate her, even her toes are gorgeous. I think I’ll manage just fine without.

Good, because I wouldn’t have given you one. Have fun not getting laid tonight.

She brushes past me again, letting her arm rub against mine for longer than necessary just to torment me. I hate people who think they’re so hot. Granted, she is, but she doesn’t need to rub it in our faces. Just because she’s sexy as hell doesn’t mean we all jerk off while thinking about her. I’m not saying it hasn’t happened a couple times but still.

Bro, if you do get a picture, you’re gonna let old Marty borrow it, right?

I jump a little and turn around, not expecting my crazy bus driver to be in the building, hopping from one foot to the other like a kid trying not to wet his pants.

You do know she’s seventeen, don’t you?

Hey, birthdays are a beautiful thing my brother, especially this next one. His voice is raspy from years of smoking.

Marty, what the hell are you doing here? And if you say sneaking into the girl’s locker room...

Nah, I needed three different energy drinks just to roll out of bed, I gotta drain the lizard. Might as well drop a deuce while I’m at it. Where the hell’s the bathroom in this pedophile wonderland?

That way, around the corner, I say pointing down the hall. Make sure you go into the one that doesn’t have a picture of a dress on it.

Dude, what kind of perv do you think I am? He shakes his head, visibly offended by my remark, then winks before walking off. I know exactly what kind of pervert he is. Got to admit, the man has good taste, even if they are a bit young for him.

I wonder how that conceited bitch would feel about Marty envisioning her while he, you know, burps the dragon. The thought of it makes me laugh as I walk past the back entrance on my way to homeroom.

Why are they locking it? That uneasy feeling comes rushing back. School doesn’t start for another five minutes and they don’t lock up until second period. The padlock is what really gets me, that’s new. Suddenly my date tonight doesn’t seem so important.

Screeching feedback cuts through the loudspeaker. A second later, the principal’s voice floods the building. We’d like to ask at this time that all students please report to your homerooms immediately and that teacher’s do a thorough headcount. There is to be no one in the halls. Please treat this as you would a fire drill and remain calm. Thank you for your cooperation.

If I wasn’t sure before then I am now. Something is definitely wrong.

CHAPTER 2

I

quicken my pace as confused students clear out of the halls. Teachers stand at classroom doors, beckoning us in, equally confused. It’s high school, normally we’d say fuck that and do whatever the hell we want but for some reason this is different.

I sit down next to Doug, Shane and Kristen like I do every day. But today there’s a sort of hushed silence over the room that makes me feel like I have to whisper.

What’s going on?

I don’t know, Shane says with a worried shrug. You think someone has a gun?

I don’t think so. It seems like they’re trying to keep something out. I just saw them locking the doors.

You can tell when the higher powers know something you don’t. People get this air of confidence about them when they know something the rest of us are unaware of. Like