Other Undesirable Things

By RA Sims II

Set in the post industrial Midwest, this high firepower thriller cautiously navigates a paranoid landscape where thugs and zombies are equally treacherous. Other Undesirable Things is the struggle of a handful of survivors that are quickly trying to carve out a safe space in a decomposing world.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Lulu.com
• Release date: Sep 22, 2013
• ISBN: 9781304466976

Book preview

Other Undesirable Things

Other Undesirable Things

By

RA Sims II

www.otherundesirablethings.com

Published by the author RA Sims II 2013

Edited by CR Morgan

First published by the author October 2013

Copyright © 2013 RA Sims II

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced in any format without the prior written permission of the author.

www.otherundesirablethings.com

ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

Special thanks to CR Morgan for her diligent work editing this book. I give a special shout-out to my sister Briana for a great and timely job proofreading the text in the final hours. This book might have never been, had my good friend Derick not called and told me that he was writing a story. The friendly competition continues!

Cort, thank you for being a creative and kindred spirit. Most importantly, thank you for bugging me to finish writing. I thank my wife Nela for her patience and support. Ryan, thank you for reading the rough draft of the first few chapters (and looking forward to the rest). Special thanks to my friends Shug and Maisha for their encouragement in all things creative.

Most importantly, thank you God for making me the kind of strange person that wants to write about zombies.

This book is dedicated to my daughter Mari, to whom I hope never has to live through a zombie apocalypse (it could happen).

Chapter I

THE FORTRESS

In the movies when the world is ending, the government almost always establishes safe areas that eventually become over run by zombies. In the pictures somehow zombies managed to bite every armed soldier, even the ones in armored vehicles. We would have only been so lucky if anyone had even thought to set up a safe zone.  It’s not really publicized but everyone knows to stay away from the military installations. Martial law has been declared and pretty much anyone with the sniffles has been labeled an enemy combatant and met with extreme prejudice.  We live under a 16-hour curfew and are more afraid of the police, soldiers and deranged neighbors than we are of the zombies.  Zombies are easy to spot—they twitch, drool and their eyes are completely void of life. Zombies you simply blast until they are completely immobilized.  But the suspicion of the living is terrifying. You fear becoming a casualty of paranoia.

It is day eight of the zombie event and I am scared shitless.  I am alone.  The truth is I am alone because my girl left me nine days ago and despite the world going to hell, I can't stop thinking about her.  She is going to get me killed.  I am going to be taking a leak on the side of the road day dreaming about the life we could have had and a zombie is going to come along and snack on an exposed appendage, take your pick.

I have a buddy out in California, and before the zombie event we were planning a road trip. Despite common sense and my survival instincts, meeting up with him still seemed like the right thing to do.  After all, he was the only other person that was mentally prepared to make it through this big mess. Initially, we were going to visit Tijuana, and do all the things that people go there to do. I can't think of anything scarier than a zombified donkey show. The vision alone ruled out Meh-hee-co.  While no place is safe, we decided to head north. For some reason Canada seemed a lot safer than the cartel run streets of the biggest little city in the world.

We were betting that Canada would be the safest place to ride this whole mess out.  The talking heads on TV were encouraging people to head for warmer areas. Early reports seemed to indicate that Zombies cannot regulate their body temperature and perish if they are hotter than 100 degrees for long periods of time.  If I had learned anything in life it was that scientists are good with theories and models, but often fall short in the area of real life applications.  While the heat may kill zombies, I have personally noticed that zombies dramatically slow down as the temperature decreases.  It's March now and here in Cleveland there is as much as a forty-degree fluctuation in temperature at times.  Monday it was seventy degrees and I saw several people out sprinted by meatloaf and chomped to death.  Wednesday it was in the thirties and not one zombie could make it above a slow jog while stalking.  One thing is for certain; the almanac says this is will be an unseasonably cold spring and summer, making Florida and Texas Zombie heaven.  It seemed like the only place fit to be called my new home in this hellish nightmare would be the cold reaches of the North. The official border crossings had been sealed, so Cortney and I planned to sneak into Canada by way of the cannabis road, the little known smuggling routes of high-grade marijuana dealers.  Some of his friends in low places gave him the GPS coordinates of a few trails that might get us there.  Our rendezvous point was St. Paul, Minnesota.

Money is all but worthless.  Catastrophe induced inflation has pushed food and gas prices ten times their normal cost.  Most other things had sharply risen too. In these times, gallons of water, cans of food and ammo are like gold, and the right amount can get you anything, from almost anyone.  Paper money is the currency of those that actually believe that normalcy will return.  I love those people.  Their goods are cheap.  Paper money can be found almost anywhere, especially if you aren't afraid to reach into a splattered zombie’s pockets.  Money cannot buy everything though. Some things still take good old-fashioned time. My car needed to be zombie proofed; it should have been able to sustain most attacks but something about all of the unreinforced glass frightened me.  I was pretty sure a quarter inch of safety glass wouldn’t deter a really hungry and determined meat monster.  Not that I am paranoid or anything, but I think that having chain link on the outside of all my windows, and heavy duty screen on the inside might be the right amount of precaution to keep me out of harm’s way.  Most of the things I needed to add to my ride could be safely scavenged. I could take a few lengths of fence from my neighbor’s now abandoned house, and there was some industrial screen in the basement of my building. I didn’t think that my landlord would miss it. 

It dawned on me that the chain link might have added protection, but it would have also added a few dozen handles for attackers to hold on to. I took it off hoping that the screen would be enough. It was six o’clock in the afternoon and the neighborhood patrols would be starting soon. I needed to get off the street.  The last thing I needed that night was for an eighteen year-old yahoo to shoot me in the back of the head because he thought he heard me sneeze.  Zombies are highly active at night and everyday hundreds of attacks are reported, because idiots refuse to turn in for the night. 

I have read horror stories about people that have improperly barricaded themselves into their shelter.  The real trick to ensure ones personal safety is creating a space that has as few openings and concealment points as possible.  Often people get a false sense of security by boarding up windows and blocking doors.  I think the last couple of days have proven that haphazardly nailed planks and piled up furniture are terrible zombie barriers.  I supposed it was better that some poor souls were chomped to death thinking that the boards they nailed to their windows would stop a small pack of eager zombies.  They were the sacrificial lambs that taught us all that these things are a lot smarter than we want them to be. Their deaths have taught us to nail, bolt and glue the boards to both sides of the window and if possible, use steel. Conventional homes in my opinion were completely unsafe; they have all sorts of nooks and crannies, and far too many points of potential vulnerability.  Lucky for me, I was living in a fortress of an apartment building. Let me back up and explain everything from the beginning.

When the news first broke, my next-door neighbor rushed over to my apartment. This was the moment that I knew he would be accompanying me to Minnesota to meet Cortney. He came over with the only things that he felt he needed to make it through this:  a cell phone, a claw hammer, a laptop and an AK-47.  I had been half asleep when Mike started banging at my door. Still groggy, I got up to open it.

What's up? I said.

Mike rushed in and slammed the door, bolting it behind him.  He turned on my TV and sat on the couch.  That was when I noticed the rifle sticking out of his bag.

What the fuck is that?  I asked.

Hell has just frozen over and all the people there have just walked across the ice, he said with a crooked expression. 

HUNDREDS ARE DEAD, AND TENS OF THOUSANDS ARE SICK AND DYING, the TV blared.

The governor has declared a state of emergency and instituted a dusk till dawn curfew.  Everyone is advised to stay indoors, for at least forty-eight hours.  Persons exhibiting the following symptoms should immediately report to Grady Memorial, Lutheran North Hospitals or Camp Powell army base. The newscaster continued.

Doesn't it seem odd to you that they are asking sick people to go to an Army base? Mike asked.

It seems beyond strange, I replied.

I glanced again at the barrel of the gun protruding from his bag. 

Where did you get that from I asked?

This thing? He said pointing to his bag.

I've had this gun for years. I bought it at a gun show because I thought it looked cool, he said in a terribly rendered Cuban accent. 

When I got out of the service I just felt naked without a real weapon, he said in a noticeably more serious tone.

Call me crazy but I have always felt that I needed something for when everything went wrong. Neither of us may have known it then, but his instinct was completely right, and deep down, I think I knew that his gut instinct would keep our asses alive in a pinch.

Mike and I did not waste time. We gave ourselves an hour to collect our thoughts before we took care of some very basic survival steps.  We used the hour to pack our worst-case scenario kits.  We had to pack lightweight bags that contained everything that we would need to maintain our safety and sanity in the event that we had to move quickly.  The bag he had already was a start, but after watching more of the news, we figured an hour investment now, might just save our lives later. I was no stranger to guns. I owned a small pistol that my dad had given me. I stuffed the small 9mm pistol into the back of my pants, and tossed several magazines into my knapsack along with three hundred rounds of ammo.  There would be little need for clothes, but nonetheless I grabbed two extra pairs of underwear just in case I really needed something fresh in my life. Socks were really important, I grabbed four pairs, a mix of both wool and gym socks.  Feet that aren't well protected don't run.  People that can't run die.  I tossed in two more pairs just to be safe.  I packed an emergency radio that I had won in a church raffle.  It was small and even had a solar charger. I grabbed my phone charger and tossed that into the bag also. I would’ve hated to have a phone and not be able to use it because the batteries were dead. It took longer than I anticipated to find my field knife.  When I was a boy, my father gave me one from World War II that he had found in flea market.    From the kitchen I grabbed several packets of tuna and chicken, a few packs of trail mix, a jar of peanut butter and a half eaten box of crackers.  After putting a bag of rice in my sack, I removed it.  It made the bag heavier and it was raw, there would be no time for cooking on the go.    I laced up an old pair of hiking boots and put on a gray wool pea coat.  I grabbed my keys headed out the door, locking up behind me.

I knocked on Mike's door.

Are you ready? I asked. 

I'm coming out now, he replied.

Mike came out of his apartment with his AK-47 and a similar looking rifle in hand.  He saw me looking at his small arsenal.

This one is for you, he said handing me a rifle. 

That right there should keep us where we need to be, and by that I mean alive, he said.  The rifle looked a lot like his AK-47 except it had a drum magazine attached to the front. 

That thing is a bad boy. Be careful. 

It is a semi-automatic shout gun, I figured we’d need something that had capacity and firepower.

Mike tossed me a can of spray paint.

We will use these to mark places.

Mark places?

Yeah, you know places where we stash stuff and Z-nests, or whatever.

Mike had a ton of high stress experience being a veteran of Afghanistan.  He had a look in his eyes that was part worry and part excitement.  He suggested that we first park our cars some where they could be reached easily just in case we needed to bug out.  I placed mine in the front as he drove his to the back of the building.  We figured that if we had to leave in a hurry, it would be nice to have a car at each exit.  We exchanged keys so that we both had a set.  There was only one problem now; my car only had an eighth of a tank of gas, not enough to get very far.  I agreed to head to the gas station and fill up. I hoped that I would be able to pick up some gas.  The station was just around the corner, and it took only a few minutes to get there.  Luckily, the place was like a ghost town. I filled up and bought all the beef jerky they had at the counter.  It was late and likely that very few people had even saw the broadcast in my neighborhood.  My area was not exactly the best part of town, and even in an emergency people wouldn’t come here to get much of anything.  After I returned to the building, I took Mike's car to top off his tank. There was no sense in waiting, for all I knew this could be the last gas on Earth.

I headed back into the building and could see a lot of commotion.  Mike had been going door-to-door and assigning tasks to everyone in the building.  Televisions were blaring, and it seemed that everyone was heading out to pick up supplies. I found Mike on the third floor. 

Jay, I have been giving people the run down, and basically letting them know that if they were sick to leave and go to the hospital. Everyone else is mobilizing to secure the building.

The people that we need to keep an eye on have a very large orange Z painted on their door. These apartments have people in them that look very sick. I told you we would have to mark stuff, he added with a smile.

Don't you think we should be leaving ASAP?  I asked. 

Are you kidding? Trust me the roads out of town are jammed and we need to figure out what is going on.  The best place to hide right now is in plain sight, and by that I mean not leaving town, Mike responded.

Mike had an interesting way of expressing things. He always gave a figurative expression and then immediately qualified it.  I guess at some point he just got tired of people not completely following him and decided to append his statements with more direct information. As Mike had been going door to door, he had given everyone a password for the building.  No one other than the current residents were allowed in the building until we could set up some sort of screening process. It was almost three in the morning and I needed to sleep.  We wouldn't be able to do much more tonight to protect ourselves, and so we both went back to my place to shut in. 

Initially we tried to sleep in the bathroom, as it was the only room in the apartment with no windows and running water.  Needless to say, I wasn't very comfortable in the tub, and Mike found it all but impossible to sleep on the small square of tiled floor in between the sink and the toilet.  He didn't say it but I am sure the scent of urine and mildew made trying to catch a few winks even more difficult. We ended up crashing in the living room. There were already some cheap burglar bars on the windows and we blocked the door with a bookshelf. We thought we were safe enough.

Morning arrived quickly. Mike was up already. He ate a pastry, a fried egg and was sipping on a cup of coffee.  I grabbed a cinnamon roll from the box on the refrigerator and poured myself a cup of coffee too.  We sat at the kitchen table and planned