Zombie Destruction: Love in the Age of Zombies Book Three

  James K. Evans

  Copyright © 2016 James K. Evans

  All rights reserved.

  ISBN: 1535038640

  ISBN-13: 978-1535038645

  To Jerry Stanley Williams, Jr.

  I am indebted to my editors:

  J. Michael Coleman, Vicki Connell, Stacie Court,

  Paul and Diane Kolak, and Penny Overcash.

  Thanks to John Washington for his scientific advice.

  Thanks to Gretchen for her medical advice.

  CHAPTER ONE

  As soon as Kevin opened the door to the gymnasium, he, Michelle, and Doc were hit by the overwhelming stench of decay. Michelle put her hand over her nose; Doc began coughing.

  The volume of sound also increased noticeably, but it was unrecognizable. A dozen feet in front of them was a flight of stairs. Kevin led the way into the stairwell, followed by Michelle clutching his arm tightly. Doc brought up the rear, looking grim. They began climbing the stairs. As the balcony came into view, they could see the upper levels of the gym. First they saw skylights taking up most of the ceiling, letting in diffused light. Climbing higher, they saw posters midway down the walls encouraging kids to be active. Sixty Minutes a Day! one admonished with the smiling face of a famous athlete. As they crested the final step, the floor of the gym came into view. Kevin and Michelle stared over the railing, horrified. Doc coughed again as he joined them.

  The gym was filled with kids. Zombie kids between the ages of six and twelve. Many had limbs missing. Quite a few crawled along the floor, unable to stand on broken or missing legs and feet. Most showed signs of devastating injuries. Some were trailing entrails and intestines, decayed organs desiccated beyond recognition. Some had eyes missing completely, others’ eyes had liquefied, the fetid remains dripping down what was left of their filthy cheeks. Teeth and tongues could be seen where the facial skin had deteriorated, and several were missing their lower jaws altogether. Ears were missing from many of the bodies, having apparently been gnawed off by their putrid companions. The adults on the gym floor towered over the children, but they were in equal stages of decomposition.

  Doc had a long coughing spell. Touching Michelle on the sleeve, he said, “I don’t feel well.”

  “I know just how you feel, it’s horrible!” she replied.

  “No, you don’t understand,” Doc said. “I think I’m ill.” He placed his hand on top of Michelle's.

  “Doc! You have a fever! When did you start feeling sick?”

  “It started this morning. It’s getting worse. I thought you should know.”

  As the zombies milled about, they constantly made the rasping sound Kevin, Michelle and Doc had come to hate. But the sound their much smaller oral cavities and decaying throats made was higher in tone than the sound the adults made. The combined volume of hundreds of zombie children filled the gym with a nearly insectile hum, but with the added dimension of originating in dead human tissue.

  Their clothes were in tatters. Some were nude or partially nude. Formerly bright clothing, once adorned with cartoon characters and humorous sayings, was stained with dried blood and bits of decomposed bone and tissue.

  Despite their lack of eyes and ears, somehow the zombies sensed the three people standing on the balcony. The volume of sound increased as the profane assembly of undead congregated beneath the balcony. Looking up with open mouths and reaching arms, missing fingers and entire hands. Many raised stumps of arms. All of them rasped louder as if anticipating something.

  “They act like they’re expecting to be fed,” Kevin said, “maybe that guy fed them somehow.”

  “But what would he feed—” Michelle stopped in mid-sentence and her eyes opened wide in horror. Nobody said anything. The shared the same horrible vision.

  Doc suddenly leaned over the railing and vomited onto the horde below. As his vomit splattered over their upturned, decomposed faces and mouths, the rasping sound went up another notch. He retched a few more times as Michelle rested her hand on his back.

  “I can’t be here. Please, let’s go,” Doc begged. They quickly left the balcony. Doc exited the gym the same way he’d entered it: coughing.

  “What’s wrong with you?” Kevin asked.

  Doc looked at Kevin, cheeks splotchy and eyes bloodshot from vomiting. “It’s probably a virus.”

  “Holy shit, Doc, I hope you didn’t get it from me. It was rough. I meant to get rid of my clothes and shower before I had contact with either of you. I’d hate to think I caused this.”

  Kevin had arrived the day before, just in time to save Doc from being killed and Michelle from being raped by Don, a mentally disturbed man who lived in the elementary school. He’d returned from a road trip to Frankfort, where he confirmed Frankfort was a safe haven and had medical facilities. On the way home, he became ill and had to stop for a few days in an abandoned house. Racked with fever and suffering from dehydration, an enigmatic stranger had nursed him back to health.

  “It’s not your fault. And do not feel guilty. You arrived just in time to save my neck and Michelle’s life. Besides, the incubation time is nearly a week. I could have been infected before you left, but didn’t have—” Before he finished he had a paroxysm of coughing. “This is probably just the stupid flu. I need to endure it and recover. Let’s head back, please.”

  On the way down the dim corridor, they talked over what must have happened. When all hell broke loose, the children must have been put in the gym for safe keeping, but many parents never made it to the school to get their kids. One child must have already been bitten, turned into a zombie and attacked the other children. The infection quickly spread before the teachers knew what was happening.

  Kevin thought the school would be a great place to live, but knew it would take a lot of work. None of them could stomach the idea of shooting zombie children in the head.

  “Okay, I’ve had enough of this conversation. Can we change it please?” Michelle begged. “Can we talk about what we—” She stopped in mid-sentence, eyes open wide.

  “Michelle? What’s wrong? Are you okay?” Kevin cried with alarm.

  “The baby! Kevin, I just felt the baby move! Come here, quick!” Kevin rushed over and placed his hand next to hers on her tummy. Sure enough, he felt a small thump. Kevin looked at Michelle, fascinated. Doc watched them both, a sweet smile on his face despite his nausea. He felt privileged to witness their excitement.

  “I was wondering when you’d start to feel the baby kick. And it’s right on schedule! It’s a great sign, too—it shows the baby is healthy and coming right—” He burst into another paroxysm of coughing.

  “Let’s get him home,” Michelle said. They exited through the same door they had entered. Once outside, Doc retched again, kneeling on the grass. Kevin looked away, wanting to give him some privacy. Michelle stayed by his side, lightly rubbing his back.

  “Come on, Doc, let’s get you into the Jeep,” Michelle said when he finished, pulling his arm to help him stand.

  He tried to shake off her support. “I don’t need any help. You can let go of my arm.”

  “I’m not holding on to you because you’re weak. I’m holding on to you because I love you and want to help. I’m holding on to you because I want to. Sheesh, Doc, when are you going to realize that this isn’t about you?! The world doesn’t revolve around you, it revolves around me! This is all about me! You’re just playing a bit part in the story of my life!”

  Doc managed a laugh as she opened the Jeep door and helped him in. “You have a great bedside manner,” he complimented her. And a great in-bed manner! Kevin thought as he jumped in
the driver’s seat and drove back to the house. They had to stop once to let Doc vomit again. By the time they got home, he was worse.

  CHAPTER TWO

  “C’mon, Bones, let me help you down the stairs,” Kevin said, putting his arm around Doc. Don’t call me Bones, Doc thought but didn’t exert the effort to vocalize. Michelle scurried on ahead to make his bed.

  “Toilet,” Doc moaned. Kevin helped him into the bathroom then turned his back as Doc scrambled to unsnap his pants. He closed the door to give Doc some privacy, but even so, the sound of Doc’s loose bowels letting go was obvious.

  “Doesn’t sound good,” Michelle offered. No shit, Sherlock! Kevin thought but chose not to say. After a few minutes Doc opened the bathroom door. He stumbled as he walked into the living room, and Kevin immediately put his arms around him. They tottered to the bed and Kevin eased him down. Doc practically collapsed.

  “I don’t feel so good,” he groaned, “could you get me a bucket? Hurry!” Kevin grabbed a bucket from the grow room and got it to Doc just in time. Doc vomited into the bucket, retching even when there was nothing left in his stomach.

  “Tell me your symptoms,” Michelle replied, sticking a thermometer in his mouth.

  “Nausea, achy, headache, diarrhea, you know the drill. And I’m freezing!” He mumbled around the thermometer. He was shivering.

  Michelle grabbed her medical kit and rustled around, producing a few capsules. “Kevin, could you get me some water or juice?” Kevin opened a fresh bottle of cranberry cocktail and handed Michelle a glass. She knelt by Doc.

  “Here’s some promethazine, loperamide, acetaminophen, and diphenhydramine.”

  “Thank God,” Doc said, reaching for the juice with a shaking hand. “I don’t suppose you have any Tamiflu?”

  “No, I’m afraid not.”

  “What will those pills do?” Kevin asked.

  “Promethazine is Phenergan. It’s for nausea. Loperamide treats diarrhea. Diphenhydramine will help him sleep. You know what acetaminophen does. It’ll make him feel better, if he can keep it down.”

  “I’ll try,” Doc said weakly as he swallowed the pills and chased them with juice.

  “What else can I get you?” Michelle asked.

  “Please, another blanket. And a clean bucket.”

  Kevin grabbed a bucket from the storeroom while Michelle helped Doc change into a sweatshirt and sweatpants, then covered him with a thin blanket. Doc continued to shiver. They stayed close, worrying over him, until he said, “Please don’t hover over me. Just leave me alone. If I need something, I’ll call you.” He had another coughing fit as Kevin and Michelle left.

  Thank God he’s not a whiney baby when he’s sick like some guys, Michelle thought as she went into the bathroom to wash her hands, then went into the bedroom and gathered a basket of clothes to wash while Kevin worked in the grow room. Nearly an hour later they could hear Doc lightly begin to snore. Kevin checked on him, then helped Michelle fold some clothes in the bedroom.

  “Think he’ll sleep through the night?”

  “He should, with all the meds I gave him. The diphenhydramine will help.”

  Kevin and Michelle ate a quiet dinner of salad and canned corn. After what they’d seen—and heard and smelled—in the gymnasium, neither was in the mood for meat. They spent their evening quietly, trying not to disturb Doc, who was sleeping fitfully and coughing. After a light dinner, they undressed and went to bed. Kevin started reading by lantern-light, but within a few minutes Michelle’s hand had wandered to his thigh and she began stroking him.

  “Do you mind? I’m trying to read.” Kevin teased.

  “You’d rather read than make love to me?”

  Kevin tossed the book to the floor. “Well, when you put it that way…” He rolled over on top of Michelle, pinning her arms to the mattress, and started growling.

  “Kevin! Shh! Doc’s trying to sleep!”

  He stopped growling and let go of her wrists. “Oh yeah, I forgot!” He kissed her lips and within a few minutes they were making quiet love. Afterward they fell asleep, spooning.

  During the night Doc continued to cough. At one point Kevin woke to find Michelle gone. He heard murmuring from the living room and a few minutes later, Michelle returned to bed.

  “Is he okay?”

  “His fever is down a little. I gave him more acetaminophen and water. I checked his lungs; he has some congestion I’m worried about. He fell asleep after he drank the water.”

  She crawled into bed; Kevin could tell she was worried.

  “Think he’ll be okay?”

  “He’s strong and stubborn. I doubt he’ll let the flu get the best of him.”

  cHAPTER THREE

  In the morning, Michelle checked Doc again while Kevin showered. As he was toweling dry, she came into the bedroom, looking worried.

  “So what’s the scoop?”

  “His fever was 102.5 degrees when we got home. It dropped to 100.2 last night, but now it’s up to 103.7. There’s not a lot we can do. But Kevin, Doc’s not a young man. People die every year from the flu. If he continues to lose fluids he’ll get dehydrated, and then he’ll be in serious trouble. We have no way to hydrate him. We don’t have an IV to drip fluids into him. Even if we had one, we don’t have any saline solution. We also have to watch his fever. If his fever spikes, his health could spiral down very quickly. And I don’t like the sound of his cough. Older people sometimes develop pneumonia when they have the flu.”

  “So what can we do?”

  “If the meds don’t help, if he starts getting dehydrated or gets hypovolemia or if his fever goes higher than 104 degrees, we’ll only have one choice.”

  “Go to Frankfort?”

  “Yes. Immediately. And fast.”

  “How can we tell if he’s dehydrated?”

  “The easiest way will be to monitor how often he has diarrhea and how much water he drinks, but if he can't keep anything down, it’ll be tough. Otherwise, I’ll monitor his skin elasticity, his pulse, and his energy level.”

  “I’m going to pack the Jeep, just in case,” Kevin said. He felt restless and didn’t want to sit around. He hated feeling helpless and useless. He carried a few boxes of clothes, all of their weapons and plenty of ammunition upstairs. Then he added a case of Gatorade, a mixed case of booze, and two cases of high-protein food. He took Doc’s things out of the Jeep and repacked it. All the while he was on alert for zombies, stopped once to dispatch one that wandered close.

  Doc vomited a few more times and twice had to be helped to the bathroom. In the afternoon he finally fell into a restless sleep, and around dusk his fever broke. He woke up covered in sweat but lucid.

  “Could I have some water?” he croaked, his voice strained from coughing. Michelle happily gave him a glass of water and urged him to drink it all. “I sure feel strange,” he said. “I think I’d like to take a shower, rinse all this sweat off of me.” Kevin helped get him to the bathroom and started the water, but gave Doc privacy to disrobe. In the living room, Michelle was wearing latex gloves and gathering his bedding.

  “While he’s in the shower I’ll make up his bed,” she said. “I’ll have to wash his sheets and clothes in bleach to kill the germs. You should give me your clothes and take a shower as soon as he’s done, since you helped him up.” Kevin agreed, then helped make the bed, both acutely aware of Doc’s coughing in the shower. Just as they finished making the bed Doc cracked open the door.

  “Could you hand me my sweats?” he asked weakly. “I’m freezing!” Kevin quickly handed him the sweatpants and sweatshirt through the cracked door, then helped Doc get back to bed.

  Doc noticed the fresh sheets and said, “Bless her heart. I know you didn’t make my bed!”

  “Hey! I helped!” Kevin protested. While getting Doc into bed, Michelle reminded Kevin to get in the shower. She gathered both men’s clothes and added them to the pile of bedding to wash. While Kevin showered, she examined Doc once again.

  “
How you feeling, Pops?” she asked.

  “How the hell do you think I feel? I feel sick. And I’m tired. I just want to sleep.”

  “Take these pills and drink the water. Can you eat something?”

  “Maybe some soup. But I’m very tired.”

  Kevin overheard his request and began to heat up some chicken broth, but Doc was already snoring before it was ready.

  “His fever’s rising again. His lungs don’t sound any better. I’m worried, Kevin. I wish I could do more.” Kevin stayed silent. You’re doing more for him than I can! I hate feeling useless! he thought.

  Kevin and Michelle ate the broth along with some canned fruit cocktail, then Kevin fixed Michelle a glass of wine and a small glass of bourbon for himself.

  While Michelle puttered around the bedroom, Kevin went upstairs. After checking for zombies, he walked through the gate into Michelle’s back yard. Doc’s garden looked a bit dry, so he filled a bucket from the rain barrel and gave the plants a drink. Only once did he glance at the spot where the bodies of Don and Matey had lain after they died. I can’t imagine living and sleeping so close to all those zombie kids. It would drive a sane man crazy.

  He went back home and lightly whistled down the stairwell for Michelle. When she appeared, he motioned for her to join him, then led her into the dingy upstairs living room. “I’ve been thinking about the gymnasium,” he said. “The thought of leaving those kids there, those zombies… it feels wrong.”

  “It feels terrible!” she agreed, “But what we can do about it? We can’t go in there and kill them all with our guns and axe.”

  “We could burn down the school.”

  “Yes, but it wouldn’t guarantee the zombies’ destruction. They could survive the burn. We certainly can’t let any zombie kids loose in the neighborhood! At least now they’re contained!”

  Kevin reluctantly agreed, but it felt wrong to leave the gymnasium filled with zombie kids. He wished there was something they could do.