Authors notes
Hello readers how are you.
As a budding writer, your reviews are very important to me, so I will be answering them with every chapter I release.
Apologies in advance for the foul language, and dark themes explored in this story, as I felt the tv series did not fully delve into how dark a post-apocalyptic word could truly get.
Thank you for the reviews and enjoy the story, and feel free to leave a review if you have any comments or questions; this will help the story get better.
CHAPTER ONE
Brave new world
October 23, 2010
The night stretched endlessly as the Humvee rumbled along the desolate highway, its headlights slicing through the oppressive darkness. The world outside the vehicle was a graveyard of civilization—abandoned cars rusting in the moonlight, shattered glass glittering on the cracked asphalt, and the occasional corpse lying lifeless on the roadside. The air carried a faint metallic tang of blood and decay, mingling with the earthy scent of rain-soaked soil. The only sound was the steady hum of the engine and the occasional moan of distant walkers, their hollow cries fading into the void.
Danica had drifted into an uneasy sleep in the back seat, her body curled under a spare blanket. Malik sat at the wheel, his hands gripping it tightly, his knuckles white. His eyes, heavy with exhaustion, scanned the road ahead for any sign of danger. Beside him, Veronica sat upright, her green eyes reflecting the dim glow of the dashboard lights. Her freckled face was weary but alert as if the weight of survival had already aged her beyond her years.
They had stopped once to refuel, transferring gasoline from the jerry cans they had scavenged back at Fort Benning. It was a tense, silent operation under the cloak of darkness, every shadow a potential threat. Now, as the Humvee continued its journey, Malik broke the silence.
"What do you expect to find at the CDC?" he asked, his voice low, almost cautious.
Veronica exhaled; her gaze fixed on the empty road ahead. "Answers," she said simply. "At the very least, I hope they can explain why this is happening—what caused it. A cure, though…" She hesitated, shaking her head. "That's a long shot. If there's anyone left at the CDC, they'll be focused on containment, not a cure."
Malik nodded; his expression thoughtful. "All things considered, that's a good plan. Better than just driving aimlessly."
Veronica glanced at him, her voice softening. "And you? What's your plan, Malik? Beyond surviving the next twenty-four hours."
He was silent for a moment, his jaw tightening. "Haven't thought that far ahead," he admitted. "I'm just trying to keep us alive."
The quiet stretched between them until Veronica spoke again, her tone hesitant. "Malik… what happened? When you went into your parents' house?"
His grip on the wheel tightened, and his breath hitched. The memory clawed at him, vivid and merciless. "They were gone," he said, his voice hoarse. "My mom was… she was dead. Torn apart. And my dad…" His voice cracked, and he swallowed hard. "He wasn't my dad anymore. Just another walker."
Veronica's eyes widened, and her lips parted as if to speak, but no words came. She reached out and placed a hand on his shoulder, the gesture hesitant but sincere. "I'm so sorry, Malik," she said softly. "No one should have to see that."
He nodded, his gaze fixed on the road. "Thanks," he said, his voice flat. "But this is the new reality. We've all got to get used to it. Until we figure out a way to take back control."
They drove in silence for a while, the weight of his words lingering. Then, Malik asked, "What about your parents? Where are they?"
Veronica's expression darkened. "If they're still alive, they're back in Manchester," she said, her posh accent tinged with sadness. "I was in Atlanta, on loan from my government to yours, for a military research project when… all this happened. There's no way to get back to them now. So, I'll survive here. Do what I can."
Malik glanced at her, his expression softening. "I'm sorry," he said. "That can't be easy."
She smiled faintly, though it didn't reach her eyes. "It's the world we live in now, isn't it?"
Veronica's gaze shifted to the back seat, where Danica stirred slightly in her sleep. "What about her? She hasn't mentioned her parents."
Malik sighed, his gaze flicking to his best friend before returning to the road. "Danica's parents died in a car accident when she was sixteen, I was thirteen at the time," he explained. "She didn't have any close relatives, and our parents were close, so my parents took her in. She became family—like the older sister I never had. When she turned eighteen, she joined the army. Two years later, when I was seventeen, I followed in her footsteps and joined the U.S army, With my parents' blessing, I graduated from West Point, before joining the 75th Ranger Regiment. Six years of grueling work to get here."
Veronica listened intently, her green eyes softening. "I didn't realize you were so young," she said, a hint of surprise in her voice.
Malik chuckled, a rare smile tugging at his lips. "I'll take that as a compliment. How about you, how old are you?"
She smirked, her first genuine smile since the conversation began. "You never ask a woman her age, Malik."
He laughed, the sound lighter than he'd felt in days. "Fair enough. But seriously, how old are you?"
Veronica hesitated, then admitted, "I'm thirty-one."
Malik let out a low whistle. "You don't look a day over twenty-three."
She blushed, a faint pink dusting her freckled cheeks. "Thank you, that's sweet of you to say."
Their brief moment of levity was interrupted by the need to refuel again. Malik pulled the Humvee to a stop, and they worked quickly, their eyes scanning the darkness for any movement. The tension was palpable, but they managed to get back on the road without incident.
As the first rays of dawn pierced through the dense canopy of trees, casting long shadows over the crumbling asphalt, Malik caught the faint outline of Atlanta in the distance. The city loomed like a ghost, its skyscrapers darkened and lifeless, a silent monument to a world that had crumbled. The CDC wasn't far now, and with it came the hope of answers—perhaps even salvation.
Danica, now awake, stretched her arms and rubbed the sleep from her eyes. She glanced at the horizon with renewed determination. Veronica, seated beside her, looked pale, her lips pressed tightly together as if bracing for the worst. The stillness was suddenly shattered by the sharp crack of a gunshot in the distance.
Malik's instincts kicked in immediately. His hands flew to the ignition, silencing the Humvee as he let its momentum carry them forward, minimizing noise. "Stay quiet," he whispered, his voice low but commanding. Danica quickly grabbed her rifle, her sharp eyes scanning the forest around them. Veronica froze, her face pale with fear as her fingers curled around the edge of her seat.
Another gunshot echoed, followed by a woman's scream that was abruptly silenced. Malik cursed under his breath. His jaw tightened as he scanned the direction of the sound. "I'll check it out," he said, his voice calm but laced with urgency.
"Malik—" Danica began, her tone worried, but he cut her off.
"You stay here with Veronica. Guard the car. If I'm not back in fifteen minutes, drive to the CDC without me." He grabbed his rifle and knife, slinging the weapon over his shoulder before disappearing into the woods.
The forest was alive with the sounds of the early morning: the rustling of leaves in the wind, the distant groans of walkers, and the occasional crack of branches underfoot. Malik moved silently, his training guiding every step. He encountered walkers on the way—seven of them shambling aimlessly through the underbrush. With precise, silent movements, he dispatched them one by one, his combat knife sinking into soft skulls without hesitation.
As he neared the source of the commotion, he heard voices—male, jeering, and vile. Laughter rang out, punctuated by the muffled screams of women. Malik's stomach churned with disgust as he crept closer, using the trees for cover.
"Hold the bitch down!" one of the men barked, his voice guttural and commanding.
Malik's heart clenched as he took in the scene. Six men surrounded two women. The older woman, in her 40s, had long jet-black hair and caramel skin. Her torn clothing hung limply on her body as she struggled against her captors. The younger one, barely fourteen, was sobbing uncontrollably, her resemblance to the older woman marking her as her daughter. Nearby, a man's mutilated body lay on the ground, his face frozen in agony. Malik clenched his fists as rage boiled in his gut.
No child should see this. No woman should endure this.
Malik unslung his rifle, quickly screwing on his silencer. His breaths came slow and steady, his hands firm as he aimed. He pulled the trigger, and the first man dropped silently. Then another. And another.
By the time the fifth man hit the ground, the remaining two were spinning in confusion, their eyes wide with panic. "What the hell—" one started, but Malik was already on him, his combat knife flashing in the dim light as he plunged it into the man's neck. Blood sprayed as the man gurgled and crumpled to the ground.
The last man raised his rifle, firing wildly into the air as Malik shot him cleanly in the head. The gunfire echoed loudly, piercing the quiet forest. The older woman screamed; her voice raw with terror as she scrambled to cover herself. The younger girl, Selina, clung to her mother, sobbing hysterically.
"It's okay," Malik said, lowering his weapon and raising a hand to show he meant no harm. "You're safe now."
The older woman looked up at him, her dark eyes filled with tears. "Thank you," she whispered, her voice trembling. "I… I thought…"
"Don't," Malik interrupted gently. "You don't have to say anything."
He glanced at the man's corpse, his expression hardening. The woman suddenly broke free of her daughter's grasp and crawled to the body. "No, no, no!" she cried, shaking the lifeless form.
"Ma'am, stop—" Malik began, but it was too late. The man's eyes snapped open, milky and dead. His mouth opened with a guttural snarl, and he lunged, sinking his teeth into the woman's arm. She screamed in agony as blood spurted from the wound.
"Damn it!" Malik raised his pistol and shot the walker in the head, silencing it for good. He quickly knelt beside the woman, pulling out a bandage from his pack and wrapping her arm tightly to stem the bleeding.
"Crap, you're bitten," he said grimly.
The woman sobbed, shaking her head. "I'm fine, I feel fine, please, don't leave me!" she cried, clutching her daughter.
"You're coming with us," Malik said firmly. "We'll figure this out at the CDC. But we need to move—now, the noise is sure to attract more walkers."
Reluctantly, the woman nodded, allowing Malik to help her to her feet. Selina clung to her mother as they made their way back to the Humvee.
As soon as Danica saw them approaching, her face darkened. "Malik, what the hell?" she snapped. "She's bitten!"
"I know, Dani," Malik said, his voice calm but unyielding. "But I couldn't leave them."
Danica glared at him but sighed, relenting. "Fine. But if she turns, you're going to have to handle it."
Veronica, sitting in the back seat, looked uneasy but nodded. "It's unlikely there's a cure, but the CDC might have something to help you out," she said softly.
The five of them squeezed into the Humvee. The air inside was tense as they drove, the city of Atlanta drawing closer with each passing moment. Malik glanced in the rearview mirror at the woman and her daughter. He didn't know if they'd make it to the CDC—or if the CDC would have any answers at all. But for now, they had to keep moving. They had to survive.
The Humvee's engine rumbled as it rolled into the outskirts of Atlanta, the noise reverberating through the deserted city streets. Every walker in earshot turned its decaying head toward the sound, their lifeless eyes locking onto the vehicle as they began to shuffle forward. Atlanta, once bustling with life and energy, now stood as a graveyard of abandoned cars, abandoned buildings, and streets littered with debris. The oppressive silence hung like a shroud, broken only by the occasional groan of the undead or the distant flap of birds overhead.
A military helicopter had passed earlier, its shadow slicing across the ruins as it disappeared beyond the skyline. Malik had craned his neck to watch it go, wondering where it was headed—and why it wasn't stopping here. Hope flickered briefly in his chest, but it was quickly dampened by the grim reality of their situation. If the helicopter hadn't landed, there was a reason.
Danica sat in the passenger seat; her rifle balanced across her lap. She stared out the window, her sharp eyes scanning the area. "It's quiet," she remarked, her voice low but tinged with unease. "Too quiet. I thought we'd see more walkers in the city."
Malik nodded, his grip tightening on the steering wheel. "They're out there," he said. "Probably drawn to the chopper—or holed up in buildings, waiting for something to stir them up."
In the back, Perdita leaned heavily against her daughter, Selina. Her caramel skin had turned an ashen gray, and beads of sweat glistened on her brow despite the cool morning air. Her breathing was shallow, her eyes glassy as the infection spread through her body. Selina clutched her mother's hand tightly, her voice trembling but steady as she murmured reassurances.
"You're going to be okay, Mom," she said, her words as much for herself as for her mother. "We're almost there. The CDC will fix this. They'll know what to do."
Malik glanced at Veronica in the rearview mirror. Her lips were pressed into a thin line, and the look in her eyes was grim. Without words, she conveyed what they both knew: Perdita's time was running out. Malik swallowed hard, keeping his focus on the road ahead.
Three blocks from the CDC, he suddenly slowed the Humvee and brought it to a stop. The others immediately tensed, glancing around for signs of danger. "What is it?" Danica asked, her voice sharp.
Malik pointed ahead, his eyes narrowing as he studied an object parked haphazardly on the side of the road. "Is that what I think it is?"
Danica leaned forward, squinting. When she realized what he meant, her face lit up with surprise. "No way," she muttered. "That's a motorhome, isn't it?"
Malik grinned for the first time in days. "Damn right it is, and not just any motorhome, but a 2009 Fleetwood Expedition 38R, and that baby still looks new, if it's clear, then the gods of fortune are finally throwing us a bone."
He parked the Humvee a safe distance away and grabbed his silenced pistol, sliding the combat knife into his hand beneath it. "Stay here," he ordered. "I'll check it out."
Danica rolled her eyes. "You're not a one-man army, you know."
Malik shot her a look. "I'll be fine, L.T. Just keep an eye out."
He approached the motorhome cautiously, his boots crunching softly on the cracked pavement. The vehicle was large, a newer model, and surprisingly clean for the apocalypse. Malik's pulse quickened as he opened the door, his weapon raised. The interior smelled faintly of mildew and decay. Moving methodically, he cleared the space room by room, his silencer spitting once to dispatch an elderly walker that had locked itself in the bathroom. The man had a bite on his shoulder and a pistol in his lap—likely a prepper who hadn't been quick enough when the walkers came for him.
Once the walker was neutralized, Malik tossed the body outside and began a quick inventory. The motorhome was a goldmine. The pantry was stocked with canned goods, bags of rice, and bottles of water. A cabinet held a small arsenal of ammunition, and the auxiliary fuel tanks were still half full. The water reserves, full to the brink, were a gift in themselves.
"Well, I'll be damned," Malik muttered, a faint smile tugging at his lips. For the first time in what felt like forever, luck was on their side.
He returned to the Humvee, waving the others over. "Come on, you've got to see this."
Inside, Malik explained why this motorhome was their new home on wheels. "It's got everything we need—food, water, fuel. We won't be stuck if the Humvee runs dry, and we'll have a place to sleep that's safer than the open road."
Danica nodded, a small grin breaking through her usual stoicism. "Guess the apocalypse isn't all bad," she quipped, grabbing her gear.
They worked quickly to transfer their supplies from the Humvee to the motorhome. Malik and Danica took turns on guard duty, silently dispatching any walkers that wandered too close. As they loaded up, Malik couldn't shake the nagging feeling in the back of his mind. Where were the hordes? This was Atlanta, a large city, with a massive population. The streets should have been flooded with the undead.
The sharp crack of gunfire in the distance answered his unspoken question. Malik paused, his knife slick with blood as he turned toward the sound. Dumbass, he thought bitterly. Whoever it was, they'd just signed their death warrant—and probably summoned every walker in a five-mile radius.
"Leave it," Danica said, her voice low as she stepped beside him. "We've got enough on our plate."
Malik nodded reluctantly, the weight of guilt pressing on his shoulders. They finished loading up and climbed into the motorhome. The engine purred to life, smooth and quiet compared to the Humvee's growl. As they drove toward the CDC, the midday sun blazed overhead, casting harsh light on the broken city. Atlanta loomed around them like a decaying beast, its silence more oppressive than any roar.
The motorhome rumbled to a stop just outside the CDC gates, its engine cutting off with a soft growl. The group climbed out one by one, the oppressive heat of the midday sun bearing down on them. The air was thick and humid, carrying the faint metallic tang of blood and decay. The CDC building loomed ahead, a cold and sterile structure standing in stark contrast to the chaos of the world outside. Its reinforced doors were shut tight, and a scattering of military vehicles sat abandoned nearby, their frames rusting in the heat. The ground was littered with the bodies of soldiers, their uniforms stained and torn, weapons clutched uselessly in lifeless hands.
Malik locked the motorhome, securing their supplies before turning his attention to Perdita. She was barely conscious now, her skin pale and slick with sweat. Her breathing was labored, her chest rising and falling in shallow gasps. Selina clung to her mother's side; her eyes wide with fear as she whispered frantic reassurances.
"You're going to be fine, Mom. We're here. They'll help you. Just hang on."
Malik adjusted his grip on Perdita, helping to support her weight as the group moved toward the entrance. Danica's boots crunched over gravel as she eyed the building suspiciously. "Why's it closed off?" she asked, her voice sharp with tension.
"Probably on lockdown," Veronica answered, her tone flat. Her eyes scanned the area, catching every detail with the precision of someone looking for danger. She walked a few steps ahead of the group, her shoulders tense, her hand resting on the butt of her sidearm.
When they reached the entrance, Veronica stopped in front of a small security camera mounted above the reinforced doors. She stared at it for a moment, then raised her voice, clear and commanding. "This is Doctor Veronica Cross, scientist in the Department of Defense. We need entry. We have injured and require immediate assistance."
Malik frowned, shifting Perdita's weight slightly. "How do you know anyone's even in there?" he asked, his voice low.
"The camera moved," Veronica replied without looking back. "Someone's watching us."
Before Malik could respond, a low, guttural groan rose behind them. His blood ran cold as he turned to see the scattered bodies of the soldiers beginning to twitch. One by one, the corpses jerked to life, heads snapping toward the group as the scent of living flesh filled the air. Clouded eyes locked onto them, and rotting hands clawed at the ground as the undead began to rise.
"Shit," Malik muttered under his breath. Selina let out a sharp gasp, her grip tightening on her mother's hand.
Danica stepped forward, her rifle already up and aimed. "If they get close, I'm opening fire, be ready to move," she said, her voice steady despite the fear flickering in her eyes.
"Don't," Veronica snapped, her gaze darting between the camera and the advancing walkers. "Gunfire will bring every damn corpse in a mile radius down on us." She dug into her pocket, pulling out a slim leather wallet and flipping it open to reveal her Department of Defense ID. Holding it high, she shouted, "I'm authorized personnel! Open the bloody door!"
The walkers were getting closer now, their groans growing louder as they stumbled over one another. Malik could feel the tension radiating off the group as they edged closer to the door, Perdita's ragged breaths loud in his ears.
"Come on," Veronica muttered under her breath, her fingers gripping her ID so tightly that her knuckles turned white. "Come on, damn it."
Just as the first walker reached the bottom of the steps, the heavy doors hissed open with a mechanical groan. Bright, artificial light spilled out onto the group, momentarily blinding them.
"Move!" Malik barked. He half-dragged, half-carried Perdita as the group surged forward, Danica covering their rear. The walkers let out guttural moans of frustration as the doors slid shut behind them with a heavy thud, sealing the group inside.
The silence that followed was deafening, broken only by the harsh breathing of the group and the faint, muffled groans of the undead outside. The sterile, fluorescent-lit lobby of the CDC felt almost surreal after the chaos outside, its polished floors and pristine walls a stark reminder of the world that used to be.
Selina collapsed next to her mother, her small hands clutching Perdita's as tears streamed down her face. "We made it, Mom," she whispered, her voice trembling. "We're safe now."
Malik wasn't so sure. He exchanged a wary glance with Danica, who was already scanning the room, her hand resting on her weapon. "Let's hope we didn't just trade one danger for another," she said grimly.