Evolution Z (Book 2): Stage Two Read online

  “You are so beautiful.”

  He had always wondered what Marie saw in him; here he was—a short, scrawny nerd, and she looked positively angelic with her soft features and cute freckles. Adding to those was a pair of piercing aquamarine eyes that seemed to gaze directly into your soul. In complete contrast to these aspects of her appearance, her raven tresses tumbled wildly over her face, which illustrated the true nature of her character. Now this beautiful wild angel of the morning was straddling him, wearing only a thong and one of his shirts. The contours of her breasts were visible though the thin fabric of the shirt, and she had also only partially buttoned it to offer him a tantalizing view.

  “Your parents left the house pretty early today. There’s a note on the table downstairs, and I was baaaaddd enough to read it. They are at VROOOOM.”

  Josh frowned. Marie’s last words had been drowned out by the sound of a loud, intrusive truck engine that now faded, but hadn’t disappeared completely.

  “Don’t give me that look... this means we have the whole house to ourselves.” She winked at him. Then she leaned even closer toward him and playfully bit his earlobe. “We can do whatever we want,” Marie whispered low and seductively. Then she suddenly giggled and kissed him on the cheek. When her soft lips touched him, Josh felt a shiver of pleasure pulse down his spine.

  He buried his face in her hair inhaling her scent, which reminded him of a warm summer meadow. He embraced Marie and held her tightly, as if he never wanted to let her go again and eagerly returned the kiss.

  When Marie sat up again, she slightly shifted her pelvis on his lap, and Josh felt a stirring in his groin. He caressed her thighs and slowly moved his hands toward grasp the firm, soft curves of her naked bottom.

  Without warning, she slapped him hard across his face. The truck engine sound grew much louder than before.

  Completely dumbfounded, Josh was shocked out of his tender moment and stared at Marie.

  “Aaoouch! What the hell?! What’d I do to deserve that?”

  She opened her mouth to speak, but he could only hear that damned engine roaring louder and louder. Then she viciously slapped his face again as her mouth opened wider and wider, distorting her lovely angelic face into a weird, terrifying grimace.

  At once, Josh was abruptly yanked from his dream by the roar of a truck’s engine. Startled, he blinked his eyes open, the lids still heavy from his deep sleep as he focused on a dirty, mud-covered metal floor. A few crates had been hastily loaded and now were scattered all over the truck bed. Unsure of his current circumstances, Josh tried to get his bearings—he had no idea how he got on this truck. He seemed to remember being so exhausted after fleeing through the forest that he must have collapsed, and the soldiers likely placed him on this military truck before moving out again.

  Almost wistfully, Josh rubbed his cheek and temple where Marie had slapped him in his dream. He was now aware that his head had probably thumped several times against the metal sides of the truck bed, and that’s why his dream was so realistic. He hadn’t thought of her for a long time, and she had been his great love until they parted ways last year when she moved to study acting at NYU. Losing Marie had broken Josh’s heart, and he was so devastated that he severed any contact with her, and he hadn’t heard anything from her since then.

  A young private probably not much older than Josh himself and wearing a name tag on his chest that read Miller, smirked as he intently observed him. “Did you have a nice nap, Sleeping Beauty? And just who is Marie? Boy, I’d sure like to—”

  Josh shot Private Miller a disapproving glare and frowned. He must have been talking in his sleep. “Ancient history, douche bag—so zip it!” Josh replied brusquely as he grimaced at the young soldier.

  Private Miller’s smirk quickly faded as he realized he had touched a raw nerve and decided it would be better to not ask any more questions. Instead, he pulled out a pack of cigarettes from his breast pocket and offered it to Josh, but he hastily waved them away. He was gradually managing to think clearly again.

  “Where are we, and when will we get to the base? I have to talk to my dad, it’s urgent.”

  Another soldier, who also sat on the truck bed and carried an assault rifle, answered him.

  “We should be getting there soon. We’re not too far away from it. The base has been informed, and the Master Sergeant knows what happened.

  A torrent of lucid images from the past few hours now flooded Josh’s memory: His narrow escape from the hospital in Augusta together with Cruz, driving toward Fort Weeks in an SUV, the destroyed bridge, and for good measure, his fortunate evasion from the screaming zombie and his horde of undead. Josh had to tell his dad everything as soon as possible, and he also desperately needed to know whether his mom had safely made it to the army base. He was still tormented about how he had simply forgotten her during his getaway from the hospital.

  Gas Station

  The straggling undead unlucky enough to be standing in the road were simply crushed by Phil as the VW Multivan rolled on into the night without stopping. Eventually the group reached the town that Scott had found on the map, and they pulled into the gas station by the side of the road. There were two pumps outside—one for gasoline, one for diesel—plus also an adjacent small convenience store. Scott finally lifted Robbie off his lap, where the boy’s small bottom had made a noticeable indentation in his jeans.

  “Phil, stay by the van and watch out. I’ll take a look around the area.”

  Scott and Phil got out and went to the cargo area. Scott took his ax and Phil picked up the pitchfork he had brought from Chris’ house. Ray made no attempt to move, let alone bother to help both men. Scott walked toward the convenience store and tried to look through its windows. It was pitch-black in there, and he couldn’t see or hear anything. We’re lucky.

  A human hand suddenly shot up out of the darkness from below and banged against the inside of the window pane. Thoroughly shocked, Scott stumbled backward several steps and landed hard on his backside as his ax also slipped from his grasp. The hand slid against and down the window pane again, leaving a brownish smear behind.

  “Oh shit!” Scott yelled. “That fucking thing almost scared me to death!” He got up, took his ax and brushed the dirt from his pants. Then he turned around to Phil.

  “Watch out to make sure none of them leaves the store. I’m going to walk around the building and then go inside.”

  “No problem,” Phil said.

  Scott moved around the right side of the gas station and after a couple of yards, he reached the property’s corner where he cast a quick glance at the rear of the building. There was a clearing with an old tractor, heaps of scrap metal and other assorted refuse. Behind one pile of scrap metal, Scott heard a pitiable whine and another sound that sounded like the rattling of one of those wind-up teeth gag gifts from a novelty shop. He gripped his ax and moved toward the pile. Unsure of what he would find behind it, Scott darted past it.

  Next to a small wooden shed, he saw a young Rottweiler lying in a large fenced-in kennel. The dog’s large black eyes looked at Scott and he growled, but at the same time seemed to be too weak to exert himself. The dog’s body was already emaciated, and Scott wondered when the last time was when this poor animal had any water or food. An undead man stood in front of the kennel, wearing the tattered remains of a blue smock and giving the appearance of having once worked at the convenience store when he was still alive. The undead creature’s left arm was badly twisted, while the right and left legs had been blasted by a shotgun. The zombie’s lower jaw was only attached by a thin strip of flesh and he certainly could no longer bite with that. Scott felt more pity for the animal than for the zombie, knowing at any rate the zombie was way beyond help.

  Poor doggie, you must be scared to death.

  The zombie tore at the fence, trying to reach the dog with his uninjured arm. When he noticed Scott, the creature turned around and lurched toward him with raised arms. Scott flipped his ax around
and rammed the handle into the zombie’s forehead. The undead creature fell and landed hard on his back. Scott raised his ax and smashed its large blade deep into the zombie’s skull as he uttered a final groan and then fell silent forever. Now Scott looked down at the dog lying there.

  “What am I going to do with you, boy?” He bent down, but the dog bared his teeth menacingly and used his remaining strength to growl at Scott, who was now considering the situation. He certainly didn’t want to be bitten by the Rottweiler, but since he also loved animals, he didn’t want the dog to suffer a miserable death. Scott spotted a water hose hanging nearby on the outside kennel wall and decided to first give the animal something to drink. He stooped to open the faucet, and water gurgled in a spurt from the hose. Once the water was clear, he took the hose and carefully walked toward the dog. At first, the dog whined and flattened his ears as Scott bent down toward him.

  “This will help you,” he whispered. He aimed the jet of water at the kennel floor until a large puddle had formed. The grateful animal immediately started drinking the water as Scott watched him with an expression of profound pity on his face. After a while, he decided he had sprayed enough water into the kennel and stopped.

  His immense thirst now satiated, the dog rested his head on his paws and seemed to understand that Scott posed no danger to him. Scott took his ax and walked around the grounds. He didn’t see any other zombies lurking about—nor any useful objects to take with him, either. When he returned to the van, he told Phil and the others about what he had found.

  “The poor dog,” Phil said. “We should feed him.”

  “We have to help the dog, dad.” Tears filled Fiona’s eyes.

  Robbie did not completely understand what was going on. He just looked around with a curious expression.

  Right away, Ray spoke aloud. “In our current situation, I don’t think we can afford to take care of some dirty abandoned mutt. What if it’s been bitten, or has other diseases? Leave it in its damned kennel!”

  Scott took a dim view of Ray’s sudden outburst, but didn’t confront him about it.

  “We can at least put some food in the kennel later,” Scott calmly began, “and tomorrow morning I’ll let the dog out of the kennel before we drive on.”

  Ray mumbled something under his breath Scott could not quite understand, though he was sure he heard him say “damned bleeding heart” and “do what you fucking want to do.”

  Despite Ray’s negativity, Scott was able to stay in an agreeable mood. He knew Ray was in a bad shape right now and would give his friend space to grieve. With enough time, Scott was sure Ray would be able to overcome this ordeal.

  “Stay out here and watch the children.” Only Phil answered Scott’s suggestion with a nod.

  Scott valiantly gripped his ax again, realizing he would have to take care of the zombies inside the convenience store if the group wanted to spend the night here. His stomach grumbled loudly—it had been hours since everyone had their last meal—but Scott ignored his hunger pangs and stepped toward the entrance door of the convenience store. It was difficult to see anything through its grimy glass, as he reached for the metal door handle to pull it open and discovered it was unlocked. The jangling of a little door bell startled Scott, reverberating like thunder in the spooky unreal silence inside the store. All at once, the silent room awoke, first in a low rumbling, followed by several hissing and gargling sounds. I am not alone here, Scott told himself.

  Scott pushed the light switch, but nothing happened. The interior was almost totally dark except for the sparse light coming through the front window. Scott couldn’t see much in the semi-darkness, and sighed as he stepped further inside. He discovered the handprint made earlier on the window, and the brownish smear leading downward toward the floor. Just barely below the window, Scott’s eyes became fixed on a bizarre scene: A zombie sat in a wheelchair, and it must have been a paraplegic during his human lifetime. Apparently, this victim was attacked and bitten while shopping in the convenience store and had been trapped in the chair since the transformation. The undead creature became extremely agitated when it first noticed Scott, rolling its head wildly from shoulder to shoulder, and trying in vain to turn its body around. This particular zombie represented no immediate danger, but Scott wanted to avoid any risks.

  “Quiet,” Scott growled. He held his ax like a golf club as he moved toward the undead in the wheelchair. With a vigorous swing he swiftly moved it over the floor tiles and hit the zombie straight in the face. The zombie’s body sagged, as the blade of the ax crushed its skull with a cracking sound. Attracted by the door bell and the sounds of the fight, two more agile creatures stumbled toward Scott from the cash register area, but he had already planned his attack. He took a step backward and raised his weapon but suddenly, he felt a vice-like pressure against his eyes and couldn’t see anything anymore. Without Scott noticing, another zombie had approached him from the semi-darkness enveloping the shelves. The suffocating stench of putrid flesh surrounded him as the undead hand grabbed his face.

  “SHIT, HELP ME!” Scott yelled in panic.

  He pressed the zombie’s torso backward with his ax to avoid being bitten, while simultaneously pulling at the zombie’s arm with his left hand in order to free himself and regain his vision. The gurgling sound uttered by the undead exhaled fetid hot air against Scott’s cheek and forced more and more of the horrible stench of pestilence into his nostrils.

  Scott finally managed to pull the monster’s hand away from his face, and could see the other two zombies had almost reached him. Frantically, he pulled the zombie’s arm further upward.

  “HELP!” Scott yelled again, as loud as he could.

  Scott had to act. He stopped pushing his attacker away with his ax and instead smashed his weapon deep into the zombie’s right knee, which completely destroyed it. Unfortunately, Scott now fell into one of the shelves, as the undead creature continued to cling to him.

  At this moment Phil stormed into the convenience store, roaring and holding his pitchfork. Holding it like a lance, he ran directly toward the first of the two upright zombies, who had just started to bend down toward Scott. Using his entire weight, Phil pushed the pitchfork into the throat of one of the undead, and then managed to knock the other zombie off-balance with a push of his shoulder—which also gave Scott some much-needed relief. Phil kept moving and pushed the impaled body halfway through the store until he nailed the pitchfork and the zombie’s throat against the wooden counter of the checkout area. The undead still struggled to attack Phil, but was now unable to move. Phil looked around and saw the cash register on the counter. In one fell swoop, he grabbed it with both hands, raised it in front of him and used it to smash the skull of the impaled zombie.

  Scott fell backward and landed on the body of his attacker, the impact loosening the zombie’s grip so Scott could move again. But the upright undead was still in front of him, and Scott didn’t manage to get up quickly enough, as the creature beneath him also started moving in his direction again. In this moment of desperation, Scott had an idea. He pulled his legs toward his chest and kicked both feet with full force against the shins of the zombie standing in front of him. The creature rapidly lost contact with the floor and briefly hung horizontally in the air before it finally struck the floor with a loud smacking sound. A stinking, brownish liquid oozed from its crushed nose. Scott used this moment to get back on his feet again. He grabbed his ax and smashed it into the back of the skull of the zombie lying on the floor. The one-legged attacker looked up at Scott and hissed at him before the ax blade was buried in its face.

  “Is everything okay with you?” Phil ran over to Scott.

  “I’m okay. Thanks for your help.”

  Phil nodded. “I’ll check on the kids.”

  “You do that. I’ll look around some more and tell you when you can come inside.”

  Phil nodded and walked outside toward the van. Scott slowly moved up to the store’s checkout counter, past the impale
d undead. He wanted to make absolutely sure there were no more unwanted guests here. When he reached the counter, he saw the fuse box where two fuses had popped out. After Scott pressed them back into place again, he was almost blinded by the bright fluorescent lighting and had to briefly cover his eyes. Outside, the gas pump area and exterior lights suddenly shone like a carnival midway. He quickly checked the rest of the store, but did not find anything suspicious. Afterwards, he went through a hallway to an adjacent office, a room much smaller than the convenience store. Inside, there was only a coffee maker, sofa, a small table with some chairs. The electricity seemed to be working here as well.

  Scott left the store building through the main entrance door and walked to the VW Multivan. Phil was standing with his kids next to the van, while Ray still sat on the rear bench and watched the unconscious Chris.

  “Everything’s fine inside. We should fill up the van, get rid of the bodies and arrange some decent places to sleep. We don’t want the kids to have bad dreams,” Scott said.

  Ray looked past him and picked up his backpack. He got out of the van and walked wordlessly toward the store’s entrance.

  “Daddy, where’s the dog? Can we go see him?” Fiona asked.

  “Soon, honey. First we have to get Chris inside. Scott?”

  Scott stared morosely at Ray. He would have to talk to him, because as much as he understood his grief, everyone here had lost loved ones or didn’t know where they were or if they had survived at all.

  “I’ll take care of him, Phil,” Scott said and carefully lifted Chris out of the van. “You stay here with the kids, and I’ll get rid of the corpses first. Give me ten minutes.”

  Seemingly without any effort, Scott carried Chris into the store. Phil and the children waited until, after a few minutes, Scott signaled for an all-clear for them to come inside.

  When they entered the store, there were hardly and traces left of the battle that had occurred here. Instantly, the children’s eyes brightened: They had not seen so much candy in quite a while.