Zombie Civilization: Exodus (Zombie Civilization Saga Book 2) Read online

  Zombie Civilization: Exodus

  Steven Ehrman

  Copyright © 2013 Steven Ehrman

  All rights reserved.

  ISBN:1490521402

  ISBN-13:978-1490521404

  DEDICATION

  To my lovely Jean.

  Zombie Civilization Saga

  CONTENTS

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Special Note

  By the Same Author

  The next Sherlock Holmes Uncovered Tale in July 2013

  ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

  I would like to thank the other authors in the zombie community for their help and encouragement. Thanks also to the readers of the first book in this series. Your tweets and emails asking for the next installment helped me write this one.

  Chapter One

  Billy stood naked in the light of the fire. The flames threw dancing shadows upon his body. He stood straight up with his arms raised and slowly turned. Harley and Jude watched him closely and nodded to one another when he finished turning a complete 360. Billy was a well-proportioned young man of some six feet and his 170 pounds was spread over his body in rippling muscles hardened by the new reality in which he, and his friends found themselves. The past few months had promoted a physical change in all of them, but Billy seemed to have matured as well as having grown in body. He had taken the lead of the group from the beginning and the toll of leadership expressed itself through his furrowed brow and taciturn countenance.

  Billy walked to the bench of a picnic table and began dressing. His breath was visible as if steam were escaping a boiling pot. The Ohio fall and winter had been gentle so far, but the morning had brought a hard frost and only the second snowfall of the season. The ground outside the shelter house that was their temporary home, was covered in a white blanket. The snow was also the herald of a coming cold snap. Billy shivered as he dressed, thinking that his regular bath in the lake was likely to be of the polar bear variety. He sat down and put on his boots and reached for his rifle on the table. He pulled it close to him. It was a general rule in the group to always have a firearm close at hand, even in the relative safety of the island fortress. He glanced at Jude who took his turn next in what the guys had dubbed the ritual of truth. Every Sunday evening the friends took turns undressing and proving that each man was free of the scourge of a bite from the dead. It had proven impossible for each man to be in constant contact with the others and since they had discovered that a bite from an undead zombie would in time transform a human into one of the monsters, they had decided to make it part of their new society to enforce absolute clarity in this matter.

  Months before, Billy had been forced to kill Steve, who had been a close friend of the entire group for many years. Billy had suspected one or more of the group was infected and at gunpoint forced all to prove their humanity had not been compromised. Steve had refused and Billy had found himself with no alternative but to kill Steve, once Steve had engaged him in a showdown. A subsequent examination of Steve had proven that he had been infected by a bite and that the spread of the contagion had begun within his body. Billy could still see the bullet blasting a hole between Steve’s eyes as a bullet, shot by Steve, raced by his own head. The fact that Steve had been a danger to the group was of little solace to Billy as he had hoped that the new civilization he wished to build would not begin with the Mark of Cain, as the first one had. He shook his head in an effort to chase away the memory and returned to matters at hand.

  Jude was next to enter the unspoken circle. He followed Billy’s example. He peeled off his shirt and pants and stood naked before them. Although Jude was the oldest of the group he still looked to be only sixteen or so. He felt somewhat self-conscious standing before them as he had less body hair than Billy and much less than the ursine Harley. He was five feet eight inches tall and only pushed the scales at 140 pounds in his hopes. His slender frame had not hardened as Billy’s had; yet the months with death pawing at his heels affected Jude in other ways. The new diet of fish caught by Billy and himself and wildlife killed largely by Harley, left him with stomach problems and he was frequently ill with digestive maladies. The stress he was under had manifested itself in headaches that made Jude hate the sun, as the bright light sometimes made the pain nearly unbearable. However, the night with the unseen zombies roaming the landscape of the real world and his troubled dream world brought no comfort either. He was held together only by his loyalty to Billy and in his belief that Billy was always right. It had been a joke in the group at times in the old days that Jude followed Billy like a puppy, but in the new awful reality having Billy as his rock made him feel better. Just as a child awakes from a nightmare and is comforted that his parents are near by, Jude was comforted by the presence of Billy. What Jude had no way of knowing was that Billy drew strength from Jude’s unquestioning loyalty and companionship. Jude liked to think that he was Hephaestion to Billy’s Alexander. Jude’s mind returned to the present and he saw the others nodding their heads in agreement that Jude was uninfected. He grabbed his crumpled clothing from the cold concrete of the floor and walked back to his own bench near Billy and began to dress. He was seemingly glad this week’s ritual was over.

  Harley was next and he wordlessly rose and lumbered into the center of the room. Harley was the mountain man of the group and he looked the part. Harley was a beefy hunter who weighed well over 200 pounds. His forearms were covered in black hair and a full black beard covered his face. As he pulled off his clothes in the dancing fire light his exposed body revealed that the black hair that was visible when he was dressed extended all over his body encasing him in a furry black pelt. The only part of Harley’s body that was not densely covered in hair was the top of his head, to Harley’s great chagrin. In the manner of his two friends who had preceded him, Harley raised his arms up and slowly did a full spin demonstrating that he had not been infected. Harley was the hunter of the group and was most often absent from the others. His hunting trips consisted of hunting game for the group to survive upon, but Harley preferred other prey. Most of his solitary hunts were supposed to be reconnaissance trips, but in reality, Harley had sought out the zombies whenever possible. His specialty was putting them down without firearms. Seeing that the others were satisfied Harley grabbed his clothes in a wad off the floor and walked back to his small arsenal. He was rarely without a variety of ways to inflict death. Besides the long guns and side arms each man carried, Harley also carried an ax and a baseball bat he had liberated from a school. The ax and bat had seen much work. Experience had taught the guys that noises, such as gunfire activated the dead and drew them to the sound. With that in mind Harley normally killed by hand if possible. He would not reveal to the others his kill number, but it was likely very high. These trips off the island to hunt were dangerous to Harley as well as the group, but Harley was not reckless and planned his assaults carefully. His skill in hunting ma
de it impossible to restrict him to the island in any case. The food was needed. Once fully dressed Harley sat heavily upon the picnic table bench and it groaned under his load.

  With the weekly ritual finished, Billy walked out into the snow and down to the beach. He turned back to look at their modified home. Originally a simple shelter house, Billy and the guys had scrounged wood from the marina on shore to enclose it so that there was only one entrance and there they had installed a crude door they could fasten from the inside. They had left gun ports for observation and defense, but too small for the dead to come through. It hadn’t come to that yet and Billy prayed they would never need their humble fort. Billy felt the cold bite again. The snow had stopped and the clouds were chased from the sky by a northeast wind. The stars and the moon were bright in the sky and gave a ghostly illumination to their small island and the shore of the lake in which the island sat. No zombies had ever been found on the island and the water of the lake had proven an effective moat against their attack. Nevertheless, Billy and the others had begun to feel under siege almost immediately after they had set up on the island and made the shelter house on it their home. The mild winter to date and the large fireplace within the enclosure had kept them warm. They made use of a large pontoon boat that they had hot-wired to use as a freighter in which to transport what they needed in the way of foodstuffs and other supplies to the island. For more stealthy trips off the island they had a small johnboat that they could row ashore at any point they wanted. However, there was a growing problem. When they had first fled the nearby town of Purgatory it was because the town was filled with the undead monsters while the countryside was relatively free from them. However, in the ensuing weeks and months the zombies had found them and they now lined the shores of the lake with their snapping jaws and ravenous eyes. Billy could just make out the swaying army in the gathering darkness. He shivered to think of what would happen if a group that large ever got loose on the island. But that was impossible he thought. They were safe as long as they stayed put. The problem was they didn’t want to stay.

  Billy heard the sound of snow crunching and turned. A figure was heading his way. It was a slight figure with a jacket and a hood. Billy turned back to stare at the shoreline again with the vast army of the dead. The figure joined him. It was Jude and he had his hands stuffed deeply in his pockets. Jude was so skinny he had complained about the cold more than anyone. He did not say a word and merely joined Billy in his lonely vigil. They no longer kept a watch at night. It didn’t seem necessary, but Billy never went to sleep without a look at the wolves that pawed at the door.

  Harley sat at a table with a honing stone sharpening a great Bowie knife. It was an obsession with him to keep all the knives of the group at a razors edge. In this world the difference between life and death might be the difference between a sharp knife and a dull one. Harley halted his work for a moment to gaze down at the beach. He could make out the form of Billy and Jude standing side by side. He sighed and felt a little jealous of the close relationship between the two. Harley was more of a solitary creature anyway, but he was still capable of feeling like a relative outsider now that the group had been whittled to three members. He thought of how different the dynamic was when Holland and Steve were around. Of course, he thought Steve was still nearby. They had buried him in the woods of the island. There was no marker, but none was needed. Harley knew where the grave was. As for Holland he was probably still out there. He was now a hunter too, but he wouldn’t recognize his old friends as anything more than food now. Harley chased the vision of Holland as a zombie from his mind and settled on matters closer to hand. They had a decision to make soon, but until then he concentrated on the edge of the knife. Knives must be sharp. After all, he thought, what was a dull knife good for?

  Chapter Two

  The guttural moans of the zombies were carried by the wind over the water. Billy turned his head to make out the sound. There was no humanity in it that he could discern. He had resigned himself, indeed they all had, to a lifetime of facing this merciless adversary in order to build a new civilization, but the unthinking horror that was just outside their small realm was daunting if he allowed himself to think of it. Billy sensed that Jude had something to say. As Jude cleared his throat, an obvious prelude to speech, Billy smiled thinking how well he knew his undersized friend. He waited for Jude’s opening.

  “Hey, buddy,” said Jude. “It’s cold out here. Maybe we should go back before Harley banks the fire. What do you say?”

  “Sure, man,” Billy returned. “I was just trying to count.”

  Jude strained his eyes toward the shoreline of the lake. He could just make out the docks and the marina. The dead were not visible to him unless they moved. It was only then that he could make out the growing mob.

  “Standing here just makes them crazy, Billy. We should keep out of sight. Maybe they’ll go away.”

  Billy barked a laugh.

  “You know better than that, buddy. They know we are here. They sense it. They have some sort of animal instinct for food. Haven’t you ever seen one sniff the air? They have eaten everything, or everyone, there is to eat in Purgatory, and now they are looking for they’re next meal. I think one advantage they have over us is patience. Try some yourself sometime.”

  “All I know,” said Jude, “is that they are more active at night, so nighttime is when we should exercise a little caution. Remember, caution is the better part of valor.”

  “Discretion is the better part of valor, Jude,” said Billy gently. “You made a mixed metaphor.”

  “You think they’re gonna know that?” Jude, asked pointing at the monsters in the gloom.

  “Probably not, buddy,” said Billy. “Probably not.”

  “So what do you say? Can we head back now?”

  “Go ahead without me. I’ll be along in a minute or two.”

  “That’s what you always say. If you can take the cold so can I. I’m not going back without you this time.”

  Jude had his jaw set in determination. He knew that Billy was likely to stare for hours at the zombies in a futile effort to count their odds. He was resolved to wait Billy out. If only it wasn’t so cold, he thought. He wondered if they got cold. Jude tried to stave off a shiver, but it ran through his body anyway. Jude hoped Billy hadn’t noticed and he clenched his teeth and wrapped his arms around his body.

  Billy smothered a smile as he saw Jude shivering. He could take his own suffering, but Jude needed to be protected from himself. One day Jude’s loyalty would cause him misery, thought Billy. He clapped his old friend on the shoulder.

  “Okay,” he said. “You win, tough guy. Let’s head back. Harley is probably sharpening the forks by now anyway. Let’s keep him company.”

  ****************

  As Billy and Jude entered the relative comfort of the shelter house, Harley stirred from his work.

  “Guys, I’ve been thinking that we should talk,” he said.

  Billy sensed what Harley wanted to talk about and stiffened. It was an old argument.

  “Not this again,” said Billy. “Haven’t we talked this out?”

  “Billy, maybe you should hear Harley out,” said Jude tentatively.

  Billy swore under his breath. If Jude was taking up sides against him, it must be serious. Billy sighed and sat down. He was sweating just a little and it made the back of his neck feel cold and slimy.

  “Alright, if you two need to do this one more time, then let’s hear it.”

  Jude and Harley exchanged glances and the big man decided to go first.

  “Listen, Billy, we are grateful for you taking the lead and we’ve been thankful for the safety we have found here, but it’s time to go home. It’s been too long as it is.”

  “Harley’s right,” said Jude. “I want to find my family, Billy. Don’t you wonder what your family is doing? If they’re safe?”

  Billy felt the anger growing in him. “We’ve been through this before, guys. Our families
either made it or they didn’t months ago. You know what happened when the world went in the toilet. I don’t like to think about it, but you know that they probably turned like most of the people did during the infection. If they survived the initial infection then they were probably killed. There is that one in a thousand shot that they made it like we did by finding a safe haven, but what can we do to help them now? Where would we look? Where would you look, Jude?”

  “The only place to start is where they were when we left. It’s only four hours away by car. We could leave tomorrow if we wanted. If they’re dead, then well…well I don’t know what, but we have to find out.”

  Billy thought to himself that the arguments were the same old arguments from two guys who sounded like scared kids awakening from a nightmare. They wanted to run down the hall and jump in their parent’s beds to feel safe. Billy knew it was pointless.

  “Guys, you act like this is going to be a Sunday ride. The SUV is in the middle of a hundred zombies across the lake. Just getting to it will take a lot of our resources.”

  “Billy, we can sit just off shore in the pontoon and pick them off real easy,” said Harley. “Nothing to it.”

  “How many rounds of ammo do we have left?” Billy asked. He was exasperated because he knew the answer.

  “Just over four hundred,” replied Harley. “You know I’ve been trying to conserve on my hunts when I can.”

  “Okay then four hundred rounds. It’s going to take a quarter of our reserve just to get to the truck, if we get to the truck. What happens on the road? What if we breakdown? Don’t you see? The smart thing to do is to try and wait this thing out. If there’s any government left, they will be through here eventually. I want to be alive when they do. We have the perfect spot. We can see the highway from here, so we can signal if we see help and we are safe from the monsters. Come on, Harley, tell us what have you seen from your trips ashore.”