Seeing Johnny Rokkets

By Philip A. McClimon

It's the road trip to un-die for….

 

When all of the grownups are killed or zombie-fied, sixteen year old Sarah Burrows finds herself thrust into a world of crazy, shouldering responsibilities she didn't ask for or want. The only known survivors are a handful of kids who desperately need her help, but none more than her baby sister—who wants nothing more than to connect with their father again. Their undead father who just happens to be hanging around the back yard in hopes of connecting with her too. Or anyone with a brain.

 

As the day-to-day struggle for survival begins to wear on her—and everyone in her charge, Sarah comes up with a plan. One almost guaranteed to get them killed—or turn them into the monsters bent on wiping out the human race. But if it means even a small chance of saving her sister, it's worth the risk.

 

Join Sarah and a ragtag group of kids as they journey through the zombie apocalypse searching for Johnny Rokkets, a rock 'n roll superstar who died twenty years ago. Or did he?

 

• Language: English
• Publisher: Dead Ahead Books
• Release date: Sep 7, 2016
• ISBN: 9781393290667

Philip A. McClimon

Philip A. McClimon is an author who likes to write about the end of the world (post apocalyptic, Sci/Fi), mostly because he thinks the shopping would be awesome (No crowds, everything free). He likes heroes that are the strong, silent type and not necessarily male. By silent he means up until the time there is something snarky to say, usually before, during, and after doing something cool. He writes Urban Fantasy. Many of the same rules for his other stories apply: strong silent types, smart mouth, does cool stuff, but these stories take place in a made up town called Hemisphere and involve stuff you only ever hear about on late night conspiracy talk show podcasts, which are, if you think about it, pretty awesome too. So, that's Phil. He's not strong, rarely silent, and isn't known for doing a lot of cool things. But his characters are.

Book preview

Birthday

Sarah Burrows stood in her room at the Peaceful Acres Psychiatric Center for Obsessive Behavior. Dressed and ready to face the day, she remained. To her left was the door. To her right was her bed, her pillow from home, the blankets, and a book she longed to get lost in.

"Would it be so bad... just for today?" she said to herself.

As if answering for her, her feet took the first couple of steps away from the door and towards the bed. Each step got easier, and before she knew it, the pillow caressed her cheek. The blanket again wrapped her in snuggly warmth. Sarah felt all her responsibilities wash away, and she relaxed. Reaching for her book, she opened it to where she had last left off. She got two paragraphs in before the first doubts worked their way into her mind.

The others are expecting you. They need you to get them. A day in for you means a day in for them. If you don’t go out today, will you go out tomorrow? Will they?

She grunted. The pillow and blankets felt more like a web now, the book, a betrayal. Another voice filled her head, and she pondered the words, the way she always did.

Your mother just worked with these kids. It’s not your home. They’re not your problem. You have a home where you can sleep all day if you want.

The thing that made these words so tempting to Sarah was they were true. The children down the hall were all foster kids, brought here from all parts of Michigan to get help with their disorders. Nobody wanted a broken kid, so they were dumped at the center to get fixed. She didn’t have any disorders, and neither did her sister. Her mother and father moved them here from town when the Zombie Apocalypse happened because it was a secure facility. The idea made Sarah huff in a bitter chuckle. They were all that were left, her and her sister, and four troubled kids. The place was secure, but it didn’t stop the zombies from surrounding them. It didn’t stop the adults from going outside the walls to fight them. They went outside and never came back, at least not like they were.

Sarah groaned and rubbed her face. Closing the book, she tossed it aside. With gritty determination, she threw the covers off and got out of bed. Sitting there, she looked over at her little sister, Misty. She was still asleep. Her first thought was to wake her, but she decided against it. At least someone should get to sleep in.

Sarah rose and went to the door. There, where she had left it, was her satchel, containing everything she would need to draw them out. Though she always got everything ready the night before, a ritual of her own, she opened the satchel and checked the contents again. First, a board, easy to break for the deep groove cut into the back of it with the handsaw she kept in her closet. A deck of playing cards sat nestled next to that, fifty-two of them, but all of them the four of diamonds. She had multiple decks like this, each one containing fifty-two of the same card. Rolled up beside these was a PEEPS magazine, one of several issues she had scavenged. Each issue contained one of those photograph brainteasers. She flipped to page seventy-five and folded the magazine open. Arranged side by side were two pictures, the same except in one minor detail. The stack would hold her for a while, but she knew she would have to come up with something else, eventually.

Seeing that all was in order, she slung the bag over her shoulder. That only left one more, but he was a special case, the most difficult, really. No prop would bring him out of his room. Sarah sighed and tried to work up her energy for the task ahead. After a last look at her bed and her decision made, she opened the door and stepped out into the hall, her first stop,

The Psychic.

Sarah knocked on Jordan Taylor’s door and waited. After just a few seconds, the door opened and a blue-eyed, blond-haired girl of thirteen peeked out. Large hooped earrings dangled from her ears. A multi colored scarf adorned her neck. Covering a simple white tee shirt and blue jeans, it was a shawl of vibrant pastels bedecked with stars and planets.

So, I’m the first one today. I knew I would be, Jordan said.

Sarah nodded and reached into her satchel for the cards. Jordan stood in the doorway, waiting.

Do you pick your card before you knock on my door, or do you pick it just before I guess? Jordan said.

Sarah smiled.

You tell me, she said.

She watched as Jordan put her hands to the side of her head and closed her eyes.

I — You choose the card just before I guess. You’re concerned that I might pick up your thoughts before you get here, she said.

Sarah kept her smile and nodded.

That’s right. I want to have at least half a chance, she said, spreading the deck out face down in her hand.

Jordan stepped forward, out into the hall and looked both ways, then closed her eyes. A second later, she opened them and picked a card. She clutched it to her chest and stared at Sarah.

The four of diamonds, Sarah said.

Jordan smiled broadly and turned the card over to show Sarah the four of diamonds. Looking relieved, Jordan closed her door and followed Sarah down the hall. Her next stop,

The Fighter.

The name on this door read ‘Barton Duckett.’ Sarah knocked, and the door was flung open by a pudgy boy of twelve years, shorter than both Jordan or Sarah. Sandy wavy curls crowned his round head. Barton looked out, his eyes settling on Jordan.

You got her first? he said.

Jordan crossed her arms and glared at Barton.

You can’t be first all the time. Everyone gets their turn, Barty, she said.

Barton stepped out into the hall and looked both ways. A Karate Gi fit loosely over his chubby frame. Tied in a knot around his waist, a black belt held up his pants, the legs hanging too long over his black sneakers.

Yeah, whatever, and don’t call me Barty. You got the board? he said, looking at Sarah.

Sarah reached into her bag and pulled out the square plank. Before getting into position, she looked over at Jordan.

You might want to stand over there, Jordan. In case of splinters, she said.

Barton offered a smirk to Jordan and shewed her away. Jordan gave Barton a withering look before backing up and moving off to the side.

Sarah held up the plank in front of her. She gripped the sides tightly in her hands and looked at the groove she cut the night before, then met Barton’s determined stare.

Okay, Barton, let’s see what you got, she said.

Barton got into a wide stance and took a breath. There was a brief pause as he exhaled, then he was in a flurry of motion as he threw himself at the board. Rearing his arm back with fist tightly clenched, Barton slammed his hand into the board. Sarah applied pressure to the sides, and the board broke in half with a crunch.

Sarah stuck the pieces back in her satchel as Barton slapped his arms to his side and bowed. Sarah offered a quick bow of her own, then the three set off down the hall. Next on the list,

The Brain.

You doing the magazines again? Barton said.

The group stopped in front of Alvin Dopkins’ door. Sarah reached into her satchel and pulled out the PEEPS magazine.

Uh-huh, she said.

Before she could knock, Barton walked up to the door and threw three quick jabs at it, his knuckles making three bangs on the hardwood.

Hey, Sherlock! Time to figure it out! Barton said, stepping back and crossing his arms. He looked at Sarah and gave a wink and a nod.

A moment later, the door opened and a twelve-year-old boy with diminutive features stepped out. He looked at the others, waiting as Sarah raised the magazine up and held it out.

Come on, Alvy! You've got ten seconds to figure it out. Don't screw up, Barton said, his pudgy face squeezing his eyes closed as he laughed.

Sarah breathed through her nose, the exhale coming out in a hiss. She shifted her feet and focused on Alvin.

Beside her, Jordan put her hand on her hip and looked at Barton.

Hey Barton, you don't like to be called 'Barty', but you call him 'Alvy'? How is that fair? It’s kinda the same, you know, Jordan said.

Barton put his hands on his hip, mirroring Jordan and wagged his head.

You're the psychic. Read my mind if you want to know, he said.

Jordan smirked at Barton, then crossed her arms and looked away.

Sarah felt her face tighten.

Both of you, cool it! she said, giving them a rueful stare.

Sarah turned back to Alvin, who stood with his head down in front of her.

Come on Alvin. You can do this. Take your time and tell me what's different, she said.

She watched as Alvin looked up and studied the photos side by side on the glossy page. An almost overwhelming urge to tap her finger on the upper corner of the right side version of the photo where her hand held the magazine came over her. It was there that a bird flew, a bird that was absent in the left version. Her finger rested on the page, her mind willing Alvin to see it. The seconds ticked by and Sarah waited. Just when she thought she would have to help him out, she saw his eyes move.

There's a bird. In the right picture, there's a bird, but in the left one, there isn't, Alvin said.

Sarah sighed and lowered the magazine. Behind her, Jordan clapped as Sarah stepped forward and rested her hand on Alvin's shoulder.

Good job, Alvin, she said.

Took you long enough, Barton said.

Sarah ignored the remark. She stuffed the magazine back into her satchel and proceeded down the hall, the others in tow. Her next appointment,

The Pessimist.

As she approached the corner, headed for the room at the far end of the hall, she wondered about Zach.

Montgomery Blankenship had been rich, a self-made millionaire. Something happened, and he lost it all. He did not take it well and a short time later, he killed himself. Zachary went into the system, finally winding up at Peaceful Acres with severe depression and an extremely fatalistic outlook. Sarah had heard him say on more than one occasion that no matter how good things seem to be, something bad was just around the corner. It was why it was always so hard for Sarah to draw him out. She knew Zach idolized his dad, as much as Misty idolized their own dad. He still dressed like him, even after everything that happened. Sarah had never seen Zach in anything but a blue business suit.

As she rounded the corner, she saw her job was done for her today. That was the way of it with Zach. She could try to cajole, bribe, and otherwise convince him to come out and join the others, but get nothing. Other days, like today, he would come out of his own accord. Sarah knew that just getting the other kids to come out of their rooms was only a small step. She was no doctor, not a scientist, or a therapist. Sure, she was getting the kids to interact, but she was catering to their coping mechanisms to do it. She told herself again that she wasn’t lying to them, stacking decks, pointing at subtle differences in photos, making boards easier to break. She had learned early on that these kids would only come out if they thought they were ‘on’. If their skills worked that day, then they were ready for whatever scary stuff might come at them. But if they could not do what they had convinced themselves they could do, then they didn’t come out. She did what she did because there was nobody else to do it, nobody left to take care of these kids. There was only her, a sixteen-year-old, left to tend to damaged kids three and four years younger.

Then, of course, there was her sister, who was much younger, who still hadn’t come to terms with everything that happened, their father’s death, and then his un-death. Sarah shoved all these doubts and concerns to the back of her mind as she came and stood facing Zachary Blankenship.

Morning, Zach. You’re out today, she said.

She smiled, meaning it to be encouraging and positive, hoping it would work.

Zach sat on the windowsill at the end of the hall just outside his door. He continued to gaze outside for several seconds before turning to look at Sarah and the others.

Yeah, I figured what’s the point, right? Everything can be meaningless and I can die in there, or nothing can matter and something can get me out here, he said, holding Sarah’s gaze, unblinking.

Sarah was running out of encouraging words, so she just offered a small laugh, hoping it didn’t sound too desperate.

Well, it’s good to see you. I thought we would play Monopoly today. We never finished our game. Boardwalk is still up for grabs. Maybe you’ll get it, she said.

A fortune won can just as easily be lost, he said, looking back out the window.

An uncomfortable silence followed, and then, without saying another word, Zach stood.

Great, Sarah said, and then turned and walked back down the hall.

As they approached the security station, the others went and gathered up the radios from their charging ports. Jordan handed Sarah one as Sarah turned and headed in the opposite direction.

I’ll meet you guys down there in a minute, okay? I just have to get Misty, Sarah said.

And no cheating! I know where everybody was standing around the building, so don’t even think about it! she said as they pushed through the glass doors of the front entrance.

A quick walk down the hall and Sarah was back in her room.

Rise and shine, sleepy-head! she said, going over to her sister’s bed and tickling Misty under the covers.

Surprised, her hands came away from the tussle of blankets and pillows.

Misty? she said.

Sarah felt the first tinge of panic and she quickly shut it out. She threw back the covers and saw what her hands had already told her. Misty wasn’t there. Rising quickly, Sarah looked at the bathroom door. Closed. Relief and hope tried to make a stand as she rushed to the door.

Misty, we’re playing Monopoly today. I need you with me on the roof to be my dice roller, she said, opening the door.

Her breath caught in her throat as she saw Misty wasn’t there, either. Sarah came back into the room, running a hand through her hair. Her eyes came to settle on the wall calendar hanging by the door and she saw the date. Now, the panic that she tried to stave off came rushing in full force. Her stomach rolled as she ran out of the room. Today was their father’s birthday and Misty had gone to see him alone.

Oh Daddy

Misty ran because she knew she had little time. Sarah would be back in the room and then her sister would know what she had done. Misty knew that her sister would leave to gather the others. She almost didn’t, and Misty still felt a little angry about that. Sarah had almost made her miss her father’s special day. She didn’t know how much time she had; it all depended on how long it took Zach to be convinced to leave his room. The others were quick, a yes or no based on whatever Sarah had prepared for them. Zach was different, and sometimes it took a little while for him to come out of the room. Misty hoped that today, of all days, it would take a long time. She couldn’t count on it though and so she ran faster, as fast as she could. There was no reason to check that the necklace was still in her hand. Misty could feel it there, pressed tightly in her palm.

When she got to the fence that marked the border between the center’s grounds and a rolling field beyond, she slowed her pace and looked around. She knew he was not always in the same place. Sometimes her dad was far, sometimes her dad was near, sometimes he hid, and sometimes he stood right out in the open. It made perfect sense to her. Who likes to stand in one place all the time? Misty was already closer than her sister let her get when she brought her out here, only with Sarah and Sarah with a gun. Still clutching the necklace in her left hand, she pulled herself up with her right until she was standing on the bottom rail of the whitewashed wooden fence. Scanning the field, she didn’t see her dad at first, but then movement caught her eye and her heart leaped with joy.

Max Burrows rutted up against a tangle of branches in a small thicket off to Misty’s right. Thinking only of giving her father his birthday present, she swung her legs over the fence and jumped down to the other side. The landing was harder than she thought it would be and she fell on her face. The necklace that she had clung to flew out of her hand and became lost in the tall grass and weeds.

Oh, no, Misty said, panic making her tummy hurt with a familiar pain.

On her hands and knees, she began searching for the necklace. As the seconds ticked by, her tummy hurt more and more. She could feel tears form and this made her mad, too. Today was a happy day, and she didn’t want her father to see her crying. She searched more franticly, pulling whole clumps of weeds and sod from the earth and flinging them away. Something shiny caught her eye and she lunged for it. Raising her hand in front of her face, she saw the little gold guitar with rocket fumes shooting out the bottom. Johnny Rokkets was her dad’s favorite rock star and because of that, he was her favorite, too. Misty wiped off the grass and dirt from the necklace. She stood, meaning to go to her father and give him his present, but he was already there. At first, but only for a second, Misty was scared. For a second, but only a second, she saw the thing for what it was. Standing before her was an emaciated monster with gray mottled skin and yellow teeth. Its smile was too wide from the lips pulled tight from the mouth. For a second, but only a second, gray, filmy eyes glared down at her and sent a chill down her spine. Then Misty remembered that this was her father and her father would never hurt her. Misty took a step forward and held up the necklace. She watched as he reached out to her to take the necklace and then give her a great big hug, as he always had done whenever she gave him a present and even when she didn’t.

Before Misty knew it, something seized her. She lost all sense of time and place. This wasn’t a hug from her father. Hands shook her that felt different from his. All around her, the ground and sky bounced and became blurry. She heard breathing that wasn’t her own. It scared her, and it wasn’t until she was over the fence that she heard a sound that was her own. Screaming. Her own wails mixed with the labored, raspy breath that she now knew came from her big sister as she carried her. Misty watched over Sarah’s shoulder as her father grew smaller behind them. He was still reaching out for her and so she reached out for him. This only made Sarah hold her tighter, and then he was lost to view. Sarah was yelling something at her, but Misty couldn’t understand it and it didn’t matter. All she knew was the pain in her stomach was back. It was back, like when her father first ran from them into that field, shouting at Sarah to keep her away from him. It was the same pain she felt anew when she dropped his necklace and couldn’t find it right away. Sarah ran, taking her away from her father, and now that pain felt like it might never go away.

Ticket To Ride

Sarah didn’t make the gruesome discovery until they were both back in the house, in a place Sarah liked to think was safe. Taking Misty to her room, Sarah set her down. It was then she noticed Misty clutched her chest, a dark stain spreading out from the center of her fist. Sarah felt her world crumble as she rushed over to her sister sitting on the side of the bed.

Misty, have you—

She couldn’t bring herself to say the words. She knew what they meant, what she would have to do as a result, what the result would be for not doing what she should have done months ago. It was only on closer examination that she saw that Misty’s hand wasn’t the only hand. Squeezed tightly in her little fists was another hand, their father’s hand. The