Victors: A Zombie Novel Ch.3

4 years ago
CHAPTER 3
A Brief Flashback as narrated by Chris Oh

The scourge had been running wild in rural Idaho for a few days now. The remaining population had gathered in city hall with the small police force. The able bodied men took up arms and formed a small circle around their loved ones. The Sheriff took his Deputy’s and went outside to die with honor.
The people inside herd gunshots, then screams, then finally they heard banging on the door as the humans backed towards the far wall.
The doors burst open as a swarm of the undead charged towards their new prey. The men opened fire and the first wave fell. But the horde kept coming, until, finally, they overwhelmed the small fighting force and their familys.

2 miles away, a stray zombie took a bite of a cow headed for the slaughterhouse. A crazed farmer soon cut down the mindless menace.
The cow was slaughtered, and the meat was sent to school cafeterias all over the country.

It was just another peaceful day at Bak MSOA. I was helping out my favorite teacher, Mr. Y, put up posters on the walls when we saw the first student take a chunk of flesh off a teacher. I glanced at Mr. Y, who rushed into his classroom. He emerged seconds later carrying his Free Mason sword and a golf club, which he tossed to me.
“Remember Chris, strike first, then think” as he decapitated the mindless student charging towards him, “Now Go!” he commanded.
I raced down the hall towards Mr. Sallas’ class, pulling the fire alarm on the way. Spotting the fleeing Daryl and Brandon, I grabbed both and briefed them on the current situation.
We raced down the stairs towards the Visual Arts building, where we were confronted by a zombified Officer White.
Unable to do any harm to her, Brandon grabbed the golf club from my hands and smashed open her skull.
Handing the now traumatized me back the golf club, he grabbed her Tazer, and rather large flashlight, which he handed to Daryl.
Sprinting inside, we met up with Serena. Daryl tossed the flashlight to me, who, now aware of what was going on, tossed the golf club to Brandon, and rushed away from the mob of teachers and administrators trying to contain this mess. Daryl picked up a wooden baseball bat, smashing in a zombies skull as he raced thru the jumbled halls. Serena and Brandon decided to go together to look for survivors, leaving Daryl and I to scout for weapons. Amid the confusion I witnessed a frightened 7th grader devour a school lunch meatloaf, and be turned almost instantaneously.
Daryl and I ran across the bridge and I saw Mr. Y holding off the horde with his sword, Mr. Barefoot right besides him with a chainsaw.
We were by Dr. Hendersons office when Daryl cried “Chris, Look out” as I ducked.
When I looked up, I saw a beheaded figure fall to the ground. What have we become.

Brandon was driving the bus away from the school with the survivors we had gathered onboard. I tuned in on the radio as the Transmission was heard.
“Last evacuation vehicles have left South Florida, standbye, aerial bombing of beaches will commence in 1500, remaining survivors are recommended to move inland” with that, my heart sunk.
“There’s a boat at my house, it should be able to fit all of us,” I said, glancing at the small amount of students nervously sitting behind me in the bus.
“But our family’s” a 6th grader cried.
“Best to assume they evacuated” Brandon reassured her.

We got to my house and immediately grabbed everything in the fridge, cabinets, and closet, as well as some fishing equipment, a water filter, and some weapons like machetes and hunting rifles we found in the neighborhood.
The 13 of us got on the 11 person boat and we cut the ropes, the cabin was stocked with enough supplies to last a few months and if the infestation hadn’t died out by then, we could fish for food.
Everything seemed gone at that time, my family, my life, the world had gone to hell, and we were on a fucking boat.

2 months later, Brandon, who had become accustomed to listening to the crank radio, overheard that the UK had become a stronghold and that most survivors had been relocated there.
“Always wanted to go to Europe” Brandon said.
“Well now’s our chance,” Daryl exclaimed.
“We’ll never make it across the Atlantic” I commented.
“We could try!” Daryl argued.
“Chris is right” Serena cut in, “We would be better trying to make it to one of those survivor camps across the east coast that keep popping up.”
“They wouldn’t let outsiders in, that’s how those things work, they are a select community” Daryl responded.
I walked into the cabin as they kept arguing. We had about a weeks worth of supplies left, after that we would have to start fishing. This is not going to die down soon, so neither will we.

They say the victor writes the history books. Hah! Victor. That word used to mean so much, now it’s meaningless, just like possessions. My only true possessions are in my satchel. My Zombie book collection is always within reach on its side pocket. My dad gave the satchel to me the summer previous to this nightmare. God, I hope he’s ok.
Whatever, off topic. I watched two soldiers die for us this past week. Sure I’ve seen death for the last 4 years, but, I mean, what makes us better than them? What gives us any more right to live than they have? They stood and fought, while we drove away. We should have stayed and fought, We should have stayed and died.