Rage Read online

  Rage

  Rage

  Midpoint

  Rage

  Lee Pletzers

  Copyright 2012 Lee Pletzers

  Cover art copyright © 2012 Lee Pletzers

  Edited by Serena Tatti of http://www.story-editor.com

  Published by Triskaideka Books

  All rights reserved. No copying or reselling.

  This eBook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This eBook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient.

  If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

  This is a work of fiction. The events and characters described here are imaginary and are not intended to refer to specific places or living persons. This book may not be reproduced, transmitted, or stored in whole or in part by any means, including graphic, electronic, or mechanical without the express written consent of the publisher.

  NOTE: This tale was written tweet by tweet from October 28th until Feb 10th. It was intended to be a flash-fiction piece penned (tweeted) only for the Twitterverse. Nothing was prewritten and though I didn’t intend to write a zombie story, they just kind-of popped up on the screen. The characters demanded a formable challenge, so I kept the zombies, added loss, pain, a crazy scientist with a pet zombie and a character driven by…rage—an emotion so powerful it takes full control of him.

  Discover more by Lee Pletzers at http://kobefiction.we.bs

  Twitter ID: @threeand10

  ________________________________

  It happened suddenly. Hell filled up, and the dead spewed onto the streets. Sewer lids shot into the air. Subway gates collapsed under the weight. Burglar alarms screamed. Car alarms copied. Seventy percent of the world died that night.

  Sally and I survived. Sometimes I wish we hadn’t. Skyler didn’t. She was only three. I used to think I was a kind, loving guy, able to take a punch easily but unable to deliver one. I was just an average Joe who worked with computers. But since that night three months ago...only rage filled my heart now. That rage has served me well at times. I’ve crushed heads with nothing but leather-gloved hands. Workman gloves. My father’s old, worn, leather, construction gloves.

  It took a month to move out of our home. Sometimes, like this cold, rainy night, I wondered if it was the right choice. Right or wrong, it didn’t matter. We had to focus on the here and now.

  “John, there’s a house up ahead.”

  It was hard to see, but Sally had better eyes than I did. It took me a few moments to locate the dark form in the night. It took the shape of Southern Homesteads you see in the old black and white movies. It was large. We moved slowly closer. Overly cautious of our movements, we listened intently for any sounds.

  The night was silent. Still. No frogs croaked, no insects buzzed. Putting a hand on Sally’s shoulder, I halted her. Something was not right. Somewhere close a twig snapped. We squatted down, backs against a large tree. Doing our best to hide. We were both armed but short on ammo. I put on my gloves. Sally gave me that worried look she only used when the gloves go on. Positioning the glove over my bandaged hand proved painful, but I wasn’t facing the undead with only one hand protected.

  Behind us, I heard shuffling on the moist forest floor. The sound came closer with each rapid jack-hammering heartbeat. I swallowed a lump stuck in my throat. Sally gave my hand a squeeze. She had her .38 at the ready. Shaking my head, I indicated ‘only one’. It must have staggered away from the group. One was one too many. They usually travel in packs. It was a numbers game. In groups, they kept coming and coming. Sooner or later, they win. But not today. No way. This fucker was going down and it wasn’t getting up.

  I nodded to Sally. The thing was almost upon us. Jumping to my feet, adrenaline coursing through my veins, I leapt from behind the tree, fists raised and came face to face with a Glock. Momentarily stunned, I dropped my fists. People. Real, live, breathing people. We hadn’t seen anyone normal in days except those crazy fuckers in the 4X4.

  Pain, sudden and overwhelming, ripped through my head and neck. I dropped to the ground. There were two men now. One held a police truncheon and grinned as my vision blurred. These were not nice guys. As darkness slowly took hold of me I hoped they hadn’t found Sally.

  I woke up with a splitting headache in a dark room. The hard wood floor was cold against my back and a groan escaped as I rolled onto my stomach and then onto my hands and knees. Somewhere in the dark room, someone else groaned. It wasn’t Sally. This was a deep, primal groan of pain and possibly hunger. I was on my feet quickly. A wave of dizziness washed over me but I stayed on my feet and attempted to will my eyes to adjust to the darkness. It didn’t seem to be working. I could hear raspy breathing coming from my left. With it so dark, I didn’t want to move a single step.

  Chains rattled, feet scraped across the wooden floor in my direction. Still I did not move. The chains stopped and an incredible stench seemed to soak through my skin. Inches away I could make out the vague shape of a deformed skull. Dark shades of gray wriggled and danced off cheekbones and chin. Even in the blackness of this room, I knew it could only be skin—rotted and peeling.

  My breath caught and my bladder released a fear induced tiny squirt. I’ve been up close and personal with them and they still scare the piss out of me.

  Why the fuck would someone chain one in their house? That takes balls and/or, stupidity. I took a couple of steps back in case one of those chains slipped. I didn’t know what was behind me, so two steps were enough.

  The dizziness was a distant memory. All my senses were on high alert. Fear of something lurking behind me kept me glued to the spot. The only sound, apart from my heart beating a drum behind my ears, were the strained sounds of the zombie’s raspy breath and its strained grunts as it battled the chains keeping it from me. It must be in a frenzy knowing fresh warm meat was so close yet so unattainable.

  The chains were holding well and after a few minutes, it stopped yanking at its bindings and I too relaxed a little. I was alert for any sounds from behind but I was certain there was nothing there. I sat down on the spot, not tempting fate by going backwards.

  In the silence my thoughts went to Sally. Was she safe? Did she slip past these two crazy fucks that captured me and possibly this zombie? I prayed to God, begging Him to keep her safe. Blocking any negative thoughts out, my fucked up memory brought Skyler. My beautiful, sweet, little, innocent Skyler. The joy of our life. The product of our happiness and our love. Her beautiful smile, her laughter, her screams for me to help as my father tore her throat open and feasted. The sounds of her screams and his gulping and slurping will haunt me the rest of my days.

  Sally’s screaming. I’m screaming. Skyler’s quiet. It was like a nightmare, only I knew I was awake. I don’t remember grabbing my father but I remember throwing him to the floor and scooping my little girl off the bed. Dad stood up and his eyes were red and bloodshot. His once rosy cheeks were pale and gray veins throbbed across his cheeks. This was no longer the man I knew and trusted.

  My little girl was limp in my arms. Half her throat was gone. There wasn’t a lot of blood, but the way her head hung...she was no more. Sally had fallen into a heap on the floor. She didn’t notice Dad shuffling towards her. My attention was on Skyler. From the corner of my eye, I noticed movement and kicked out with all the strength and anger I could muster. My foot slammed Dad’s hip, sending him sprawling.

  He got up fast. Skyler groaned. “Sweetie?” I looked at her. My baby girl had lips curled back exposing her small baby teeth. Her eyes were red and tiny veins tatto
oed her face. She was trying to raise her head. The tiny body thrashed in my arms but I held her tight.

  “John!”

  Sally was on her back doing her best to fight off Dad. She pushed his head back, keeping it away while at the same time using her knees as a wedge against his stomach, stopping his body from advancing or collapsing on her. “John! For fuck’s sake!”

  I dropped Skyler, ignoring the sound of her little body hitting the floor. She wasn’t my little girl any longer, Dad had seen to that. A new emotion pumped up from the darkness deep inside me. I grabbed the old bastard around the head and chin. Yanked hard and to the left in a rising arch, his neck snapped easily.

  I pulled him off my wife.

  “Wait here,” I told her and turned on my heel and, with anger boiling my blood, I entered our bedroom. In the wardrobe, I found the .38 and a box of shells. I didn’t know what had happened to my family. I was thinking...no. No. I wasn’t thinking at all. I was on auto-pilot, running on fear and hate. All I wanted to do was put a bullet into that fucker’s head. Make him go down for good. Entering Skyler’s room, I did just that.

  And it felt so damn good.

  I turned to Skyler.

  “Don’t you fucking dare!” Sally was on her feet. Her hands were balled onto fists. I took aim. She ran at me, got between the gun and my target. Her fists hurt with each strike against my chest. I didn’t stop her. Skyler groaned. Sally turned to look at her. I think I heard her heart break at that awful sound. With a shaky hand and sobbing tears of loss only a mother can feel, she took the .38 from me and knelt down close to Skyler. She whispered, “I’m sorry,” and placed the barrel against her little forehead. A piece of Sally died the moment she squeezed the trigger. A piece of me died when I dropped my baby on the floor. It was a hole within us that we filled with revenge, anger and hate, sated only when we dispersed with these undead fuckers, which had somehow gotten to my father.

  Flickering harsh white light exploded through the room as fluorescents stuttered to life. The sudden brightness momentarily blinded me. I stumbled backward, using my arms to cover my eyes. I backed into a wall. Thank God, nothing hideous waited there.

  My eyes adjusted quickly. I was in a white room with splashes of red on the walls and floor. It didn’t look like paint. The zombie was squatting down against the wall, its arms looked relaxed bound in chains. Only the arms were restrained. I wondered how hungry it would get before realizing a little lost skin and it’d be free and could feed. I hoped I was out of the room before that happened. It was staring at me the way I stared at a sizzling steak. It was very unsettling. I had been right about the shades of gray on its face being skin. Most of the skin was a greenish gray, covered with open sores leaking puss, skin sagging, and the stench of decay hung around it like an aura. But the red eyes were vibrant and alive.

  There was no intelligence in those eyes, just resignation knowing it couldn’t reach me.

  A door to my right opened and a heavyset man in jeans entered. He carried a bowl filled with meat, dripping blood. Not once did he glance in my direction.

  I got to my feet and headed for the open door. “I wouldn’t do that if I were you.” He spoke in a gentle voice. “They have lasers.” I stopped heading to the door. “You can’t see them with these lights.” He put down the bowl and turned to face me. The zombie rushed for the man. But he couldn’t reach. The man kicked the bowl to it and the thing dropped to the floor, head buried in the food.

  The sound of it eating was disgusting and I felt my stomach churn and tears well up. It was the same sound Dad made feeding on little Skyler. “You have to stay in here for awhile.” The man went to the doorway and paused in front. “Clear,” he said, in that gentle voice of his and, a moment later, he walked through the door and closed it behind him.

  I followed, grabbed the knob and flew backwards, lost my footing and landed hard. My hand hurt like a motherfucker and rubbing it wasn’t a good idea. A circular burn mark pulsed in my palm. On my back, I took several deep breaths and ran my hands through my hair. Lingering electricity buzzed my fingertips. My heart was starting to slow down when I noticed how far the electrified knob had thrown me. I swiveled my head to the chained zombie. It was too busy eating to notice me. Thank God for single-minded focus. I scrambled to my feet and rushed back to the safety of the wall.

  Blood had splattered over the bowl creating tiny rivulets running into a small puddle on the floor. I tried not to look at the bowl and told myself over and over it wasn’t Sally chopped up in there. I had to believe she had made it free. Escaped and was moving on, going forward. If I thought anything else, I think I’d lose the motivation to keep up the fight and find my way out of here.

  When the zombie finished, it looked at me as if it could eat more. One thing I’ve never understood about these...creatures… is why they eat. They are dead. Their digestion system can’t possibly work. How is the food processed and passed out? A thought occurred as I stared at the gleaming eyes staring back at me. Was there a spark of intelligence in these beasts? Is that why it was chained here? Captured for study?

  Only a madman would do that. But the man who delivered the bowl of meat didn’t seem deranged. Perhaps he was a captive like me.

  Captive. Yes, I said it. What else could this be? I checked my watch, realized it was gone, along with my wedding ring and braided necklace. I felt naked missing these small things, they weren’t important to anyone except to me. Each one had a story behind it. The necklace was a gift from Sally on our one-month anniversary. The watch marked the birth of our daughter. And the ring marked Sally and my union. I felt around in my pockets but they were empty. The fuckers had taken the photo of my daughter that I always kept on me. There was no need for wallets these days so the picture was the only clue to a lost past and a happier time.

  To get those days back, I’d give anything. Sadly, I don’t think those days will ever return. It’s a whole new world out there. A world few of us understood and even fewer of us could cope with. The carnage on the streets proved that. Silent nights and quieter days filled our new existence. Humanity was few and far between. No sign of the military, no words from the government, no hope. We did our best to survive day in and day out. Or there was an option of a bullet in the head—self-inflicted. There must be a way to destroy them. There weren’t enough bullets for a head shot to every single one. They always attacked in large packs. The sheer number of them could be overwhelming.

  I got up and walked to the door. About to bang on it, I paused remembering the earlier electric shock. The red outline on my palm was still evident but no longer hurt. I had almost forgotten about it. My hands fell to my side. “Hey! I gotta pee!” Shit, you gotta go, you gotta go. Am I right or am I right? “Yo! Ya hear me?” I waited, counting to sixty. Nothing. “Fine. I’ll do it right here.” Something banged against my right leg. I almost screamed like a schoolgirl as I shot to the left. Looking down I saw the empty steel bowl the zombie ate from. It was almost licked clean. Looking back, I saw the Zombie staring at me. Did it understand?

  No, that’s impossible.

  They’re mindless drones. No thoughts save attack, kill, and eat. Inadvertently increasing their population, depleting the food supply. Pure animal instincts, nothing more. It must have thrown the bowl in an attempt to attack me. The bowl became a weapon. And no, it wasn’t drawing me closer. I had to pee, but I could hold it for a while. I’d become so used to pissing and shitting at any given opportunity when safety was evident.

  I kicked the bowl to the door and it shot back at me. So, the whole door was electrified. This is a prison. How the fuck am I gonna get out of here? I haven’t been in an enclosed space since we left our house when our supplies were low and very few zombies stumbled around in our suburb.

  Most of our neighbors had already moved out. Some boarded up their homes, blocked doors, windows and all entry points. I wondered how long they would last. Zombies were relentless; they’d keep at that wood until they got inside. S
ingle-minded focus driving pack mentality.

  We saw them, Sally and I, on the streets. Several times, we got lucky. We met others and joined forces with them, before we got smart and learned to stay away from rag-tail groups, tribes and gangs out for vengeance or moving target practice. Yes, they had the weapons and hunting/camping experience, but they also risked the camp’s survival on a near daily basis. We searched for a real camp, one set up by survivors for prosperity and a slim chance at building a new life.

  There was one camp that was on to it. They were smart, and welcomed newcomers like Sally and me. Their leader used his head. Eric was his name, and all he cared about was keeping us alive and pre-emptive strikes against the zombies before they reached our one mile border. He was good at his job and he kept everyone together and on the same page. Maybe we should have stayed and tried to explain my situation. I hope Sally was making her way to them now. It was a three-day hike through mildly infested territory but I knew she could make it. We’ve learned how to stay alive and remain hidden—well, until tonight—or last night. Is it daylight yet? There are no windows here and zero outside influence to give me a bearing on day or night. There was only me, white blood-spattered walls, and a zombie.

  And the only way out of this place was that door and I wasn’t touching that. I looked over at the door and saw the bowl in front of it. The urge to piss washed over me strong and urgent. I had totally forgotten. There was no choice but to use it. I unzipped. As a joke to cheer myself up I said to the zombie, “Turn around.” And fuck me, it did. My bladder damn near locked up. A couple of minutes later I managed to fill the bowl almost to the brim. The second I zipped up the door opened and the same man entered carrying a sealant and covered the top of the bowl.