CHAPTER ONE:
THE OUTBREAK!
The door flew open with a crash. Hissing and growling, those…things…came pouring through, quickly flooding the rooftop of the four-story apartment building. Screams filled the air, not quite drowning out the moans and snarls of the dead, and Alex grunted as she was shoved toward the low ledge.
"No!" a woman screeched from right beside her, clutching a furry white dog to her chest. "Help! Jesus, please!"
Alex caught an elbow in her ribs and stumbled backward. Her heel struck the concrete ledge, the thin, metal railing of which dug into her hip. She craned her neck to peer over it and frowned. The ground was a long way down.
"Fuck!" she snarled, tugging the straps of her backpack tighter.
The shuffling corpses surged forward, tearing flesh and muscle from the people surrounding her and knocked a few over the edge of the rooftop. Her eyes fell onto a young boy curled up on the ground as the crowd trampled over him. He screamed for help through wracking sobs.
Weighing her options and her chances, Alex hesitated for a moment before ultimately grabbing the scruff of his T-shirt and jerking him toward her. He was still, bruised and bleeding from various cuts across his face and arms, and she pulled him over her shoulder. She once more toyed with the idea of leaving him behind.
A dead man lunged for her, suddenly, and her time of debate came to an end. She climbed onto the ledge and swung her legs over the flimsy railing. Shrugging, the boy into a steadier position, she lowered herself over, her hands gripping the railing, and dropped a foot or so before catching the iron bars of the window on the floor below. Slowly, carefully, she climbed down, hand-over-hand.
About halfway from the ground, the boy twitched and groaned in her ear. Her heart skipped a beat, and her fingers went numb in fear, releasing her hold on the bars. They dropped through the air, and Alex quickly pulled the kid into her arms, curling her body around him. The memory of diving from an Apache flashed through her mind before she landed with a sickening thud on the street. Her backpack's contents rammed into her spine, and her scream died in her throat as all the air in her lungs whooshed out. Her arms fell limply to her sides and the boy rolled jerkily onto the street beside her.
A ringing filled her ears, and she couldn't get enough oxygen into her lungs. Everything hurt as she'd just been beaten to an inch of her life.
The boy sobbed, shaking her shoulder wildly, his wide eyes darting around in terror. Alex groaned, letting her head drop to the right, then swinging to the left, trying desperately to clear the fog from her mind. She could hear the boy's whimpers, could feel his hands on her. Vaguely, she could make out the shapes of people slowly advancing on them.
"Not here," she mumbled, a phrase she hadn't used in seven months. She struggled to sit upright, fighting the raging nausea building in her stomach. Her arms gave out twice before she was able to push herself upright.
Fumbling around the edge of her jacket, her fingers finally met cold steel. She pulled the Beretta from her shoulder holster, released the safety, and squeezed the trigger, just as a corpse reached them. A bullet whizzed through the side of his face, and he dropped. She stood on trembling legs and grabbed the kid's arm.
"Get up," she hissed as more undead shuffled toward them, drawn by the sound of a gun. "Move your ass!"
She fired again, twice. Three times. Each time, dropping an advancing enemy. Grasping for a pair of keys in the front pocket of her jean shorts, she pressed the unlock button and the automatic start. The lights of a large, black Silverado flashed, and she shoved the boy toward it.
Without prompt, he pulled open the driver's side door and scrambled over the seat to the passenger's. Alex followed, slammed and locked the door, and holstered her weapon. She stepped on the brake, threw the truck into reverse, and stomped on the gas, mowing down a group of four corpses. The kid pulled on his seatbelt and clutched the door panel as Alex shifted into drive and peeled out.
Alex glanced over at the battered child, wondering why she'd bothered saving him. He wouldn't last long without her, but she was no hero. Those days were over. He looked up at her with large, blue eyes and grinned. She furrowed her brow and looked away.
"What's your name?" he asked.
"Alex," she replied stiffly.
"I'm Jake." Alex didn't reply, but it didn't seem to phase him. "Are you a cop?"
She snorted. "No."
She could still feel his eyes on her face.
"Where do we go now?"
It didn't seem as if he really wanted an answer, really, as long as someone had a plan. But, she didn't. Who the hell had a plan for the end of the world? She thought of the broadcast that had been playing on every channel, calling for a full evacuation. They'd said something about a safe zone in Atlanta. She frowned. It didn't seem likely that something like that would hold in a city that big, but it was a good place to start.
"We'll get some information and supplies in Atlanta, look for your parents, then I'm getting the hell outta there."
Jake said nothing, but his smile was gone. Alex briefly wondered if his parents had been on that roof with them. She shoved away the sympathy she'd felt. This kid wasn't her problem. Someone would take him in.
Brake lights ahead slowed Alex's speed, and before long, brought her to a complete stop at the end of a very long line. More cars pulled up behind her. She sighed and pressed her eyes closed.
"Stay here," she said, pushing open her door and hopping out, nearly colliding with a stocky, black man. "Sorry," she muttered, looking around at the traffic jam.
"No big deal," he answered. "Going to Atlanta?"
Alex arched a brow at him and crossed her arms. "No, Hawaii."
He snorted. "I'm T-Dog. Nice to meet you." He held his hand out.
"Alex." She shook his hand.
"Have a hard time getting out?" T-Dog asked, gesturing to the coat of blood and carnage on her truck.
She glanced briefly at it and shrugged. "It coulda been worse."
He chuckled. "You some kinda badass, or something?"
"Or something." Alex shoved her hands into her pockets and turned to observe the city lights from up ahead. "I don't think they've got enough room for all of us."
The man opened his mouth to reply but was drowned out by the roar of a jet as it flew overhead. They stared in horror as a bomb dropped onto Atlanta.
Alex grimaced. "So much for that."
T-Dog just stared blankly. Suddenly, a horde of the undead surged from the half-decimated city. "Oh, shit!" he yelled.
"Get in!" Alex ordered, climbing back into the driver's seat. He didn't hesitate to fling open the door and dive into the back seat.
"Go go go!" he cried.
Go where?" Alex snapped.
"Follow them," T-Dog said, pointing toward a small convoy of vehicles drove slowly off into the forest down a narrow path.
Jake curled up on the floor under the dash, tears streaking his dirty cheeks.
"Hold on, kid," Alex said, throwing the truck into 4wd and tearing off through the trees.
The drive was long and slow as they followed a winding camping trail. The trio in the truck were silent a long while, each on the lookout for any more corpses. They hadn't seen any in quite a while.
Finally, the convoy reached an obscure campsite, and the cars pulled off the trail to park. Dozens of people stepped out of their vehicles.
Frowning, Alex shut off the engine. "C'mon."
Jake stuck to Alex's side like a shadow, and T-Dog kept pace beside her, shoulders tensed and eyes wary.
The group seemed to convene around a family in the center; A woman clutching at a boy around the same age as Jake, staring up at the tall man at her side who wore a uniform from the sheriff's department.
"What now, Shane?" the woman asked, glancing around at the crowd through puffy eyes.
"Now," said the cop, "we set up camp and set out lookouts so we can defend this place."
"We can't all sleep in our cars," called a short, fat man, standing beside a tall woman with short gray hair and a little blonde girl.
"So, sleep on the ground," a tall, weasley man in a wife beater and an open flannel called. Beside him, a younger, quieter man with light brown hair nodded.
"I don't think so." The fat man sneered.
"You can have the back of the hatchback, Ed," his wife said. "Sofia and I will be all right up front."
"I've got room for a few," said a tall, older man in a straw, fishing hat.
"We'll have to make do for the night," said Shane. "We can figure it out in the morning."
Slowly, the crowd dispersed. Alex and T-Dog opened up the truck's tailgate, and she rolled up the tarp. Underneath were a couple of tents, a few sleeping bags, and a locked toolbox. She opened the box, pulled out a Remington rifle, and slid it over to her new companion.
"Know how to use that?" she asked, tugging the tents out onto the ground.
"Sure," he said a bit too quickly.
Alex bit her lip, studying him, before taking it back and handing over a Springfield. "What about this one?"
T-Dog shrugged. "I'm sure I can figure it out."
Alex sighed, picked up the weapon, and showed him the basic operation of both the handgun and the rifle. "I've got another of each, so take your pick," she said, gesturing to them.
T-Dog went with the Springfield, and she locked the rifle back inside the toolbox. Then, she handed him a tent and sleeping bag, and they worked together to set up their little space. Two tents and a small fire later, Alex was worn out but satisfied with the shelters. She ushered Jake into her tent and collapsed onto a sleeping bag beside him.
"Goodnight, Alex," he whispered.
"Night, kid," she replied.