Page 10 of Zocopalypse (Death Fields 1)

me that I can smell their unclean stench and rank breath. The moans have turned to angry, hungry roars. It’s the sound they make when they’re the most dangerous. I crash into the side of the truck, throwing my bags in the back, holding onto only my gun and hatchet. I glance back and see them coming fast, grayish skin, black veiny eyes. Speed isn’t a problem for these bastards. I pry the rusted driver’s side door open and jump inside, slamming it behind me.

Breathing hard, I scoot away from the window and bump into something hard. The loud, unforgettable click of a gun echoes through the cab and I spin with my own gun raised. All I see is the steel barrel and a silhouette belonging to a man. His breathing is heavy, matching mine. We stare at one another listening to the thump and bang of Eaters crashing into the truck.

“Where are the keys?” I yell sliding back behind the wheel. Eater’s punch and kick the window and doors of the car.

“In the ignition!” He gestures with the gun. “Go!”

The window directly behind him makes a cracking sound and I see the outline of hands pushing against it. I crank the ignition but it only stutters and whines.

“Pump the clutch!” he yells. He takes a breath. “Don’t flood the engine. Slow and steady.”

“I’m doing that,” I snap, rewarded by the sound of the engine revving to life. I flip on the lights. The unnatural glare blinds us all. It also reveals exactly how much trouble we’re really in. “Shit.”

The car is surrounded.

Wrapping my hands around the massive steering wheel, I glance over at the stranger. His jaw is tight but determined.

“Ready?” I ask, foot halfway down on the gas.

“Ready.”

Chapter Twelve

~Before~

9 Weeks Ago

Why did I think being valedictorian was a good idea? I’ve already been accepted into college. A really good college. My teachers have read enough of my papers. No one will even remember this a week after I’m finished. Maybe not even in fifteen minutes. Does anyone even remember their valedictorian? I consider standing in front of the crowd and telling them that this is all a farce, a competition created to make the ninety-nine percent feel useless.

That would go over well.

I pick up my laptop and head to the den where my mom has the TV on. It’s the news-heads, of course. The outbreak is all anyone can talk about these days. The flu-like virus making everyone super sick. Rumor is that it’s from a parasite. They’re even using the term “epidemic.” Florida is under a state of emergency. No flights in or out. Total quarantine. We’re waiting for them to say the same thing about Georgia and the rest of the southeast.

Now I understand a little better why Dad has been a stress case and working so much.

Mom notices me and snaps off the TV.

“Mom, I think I’m old enough to watch the news.”

“This stuff is terrible. I don’t want you watching it,” she says, tucking a piece of dark hair behind her ear, a sure signal she’s uncomfortable. She did the same thing when we had the sex-talk when I was ten.

“I have the internet, Mom. I know all about it.”

“Well, it’s depressing and you’ve got so much great stuff coming up. You shouldn’t fill your head with this kind of thing.”

“What? The people eating other people thing? That’s like, half-urban legend, Mom.” Only fifteen people have actually cannibalized other people. Or at least that’s what the news is saying. I have my suspicion that there’s more, but I’ve always been one to buy into conspiracy theories.

“I hope so,” she says. “But really you need to be careful. Wash your hands. No shared cups or forks, okay? Your dad was telling me some stuff and—”

“And what?” I ask immediately intrigued.

“And it’s just they don’t know how this spreads exactly. It’s not airborne but through close contact. He said he wouldn’t be surprised if they didn’t start cancelling school.”

I glance down at my laptop and the two thousand word speech I have written. “School? We only have a week left.”

“They’ve done this before, during bad flu outbreaks or other infectious diseases. It’s just bad timing for you.”

“Tell me about it,” I grumble. “Do you really think they’ll call off graduation?”

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