This Plague of Days, Season Two (The Zombie Apocalypse Serial) by Robert Chazz Chute Page A
Authors: Robert Chazz Chute
Ads: Link
keep us in tea and call us a bunch of drooling colonials if we don’t keep the doctor around? At least until we get to America. Then the Yanks can look down on all of us.”
She smiled again and punched him in the shoulder. “You know what I’m asking.”
“I saw you naked. I’m looking forward to seeing you naked again.”
“Do you think the helicopter will really come to rescue us along with him?”
“Absolutely.”
“Why?”
“Because the alternative is too awful.”
She thought he might kiss her then. Desi’s lips were inches from hers.
Something moved outside. She peered through the shade and saw a hunched, shuffling figure with wild hair. The front of the woman’s shirt ran black with blood. She came close enough to hear her animal growl. A zombie walked the streets of Dungarvan.
Desi paled. “I didn’t think we’d see one of them for days, yet.”
P ERSUASIVE STREET PREACHERS ’ EYES SHINE
T he little band of refugees stayed quiet and watched the infected wander the streets. At dawn, there were two. By noon, Desi had counted a dozen. At the back of the house, Aadi stood watch, searching the sky and straining his ears for the thrum of rotors. A school, the weeds already grown long, sat behind the house. That was the landing zone the Ciara’s skipper had promised to pass on to the rescue helo.
By late afternoon, more packs arrived. These were young men whose heads were still shaved tight to their skulls. Their neck tattoos were identical. They wore green football uniforms Desi recognized as the Leesiders’ club colors from Cork. The men lifted their chins, sniffing the air and milling aimlessly. The wounds on their hands and arms — defensive wounds, Desi called them — could be readily seen. The men seemed oblivious to their bites and intent only on finding new victims. The zombies came and went until, just before nightfall, three ran down the middle of the street chasing a barking dog.
Sinjin-Smythe whispered as he stood his watch, peering out the window. “Whatever Shiva thought she was going to accomplish, her plan can’t work.”
When the doctor turned from the window, his smile was broad and assured. “Look at those things. They’re plenty dangerous and scary now, but how long can they last? They don’t feed on each other. I’ve been watching for hours and they’re dumb animals. Worse than dumb animals, maybe. They’d fight each other over a bone like wolves, but I don’t even see any hierarchy to their groups. They move in packs, but there’s no clear alpha to lead. They’re disorganized and there’s no strategy! They’re obviously good at spreading the virus and eager to bite, but after a victim is bitten…I don’t know. They seem to lose interest unless they’re in a feeding frenzy.”
“I see one parallel with animal behavior,” Dayo said. “If you run, they chase you. Like wild dogs.”
“Perhaps you’re right. But I can’t see how they can last. They’re too erratic. At this rate, the world will be ours again in a week, maybe two…as long as we can deny them their meals.”
Dayo shook her head. “So you’re saying that once they eat as many of us as they can find, their food supply will run out? They’ll starve to death and all we have to do is hide and wait for the inevitable?”
“Of course.”
“What do you know of the terrorists’ plans, doctor?”
He shrugged. “Nothing.”
“Excuse me,” Desi said, “but if you know nothing of their plans, how do you know this isn’t it?”
Sinjin-Smythe turned back to the window and sulked.
Three men in business suits shambled by. Their pants were ripped to expose pale, spindly legs. The one in the lead was missing his right cheek. He stopped, turned and appeared to look straight at the doctor, who shivered behind his peephole. The doctor could see the infected man’s teeth all the way back to his molars. The man’s mouth moved — open and closed, open and closed — as a thick line of
She smiled again and punched him in the shoulder. “You know what I’m asking.”
“I saw you naked. I’m looking forward to seeing you naked again.”
“Do you think the helicopter will really come to rescue us along with him?”
“Absolutely.”
“Why?”
“Because the alternative is too awful.”
She thought he might kiss her then. Desi’s lips were inches from hers.
Something moved outside. She peered through the shade and saw a hunched, shuffling figure with wild hair. The front of the woman’s shirt ran black with blood. She came close enough to hear her animal growl. A zombie walked the streets of Dungarvan.
Desi paled. “I didn’t think we’d see one of them for days, yet.”
P ERSUASIVE STREET PREACHERS ’ EYES SHINE
T he little band of refugees stayed quiet and watched the infected wander the streets. At dawn, there were two. By noon, Desi had counted a dozen. At the back of the house, Aadi stood watch, searching the sky and straining his ears for the thrum of rotors. A school, the weeds already grown long, sat behind the house. That was the landing zone the Ciara’s skipper had promised to pass on to the rescue helo.
By late afternoon, more packs arrived. These were young men whose heads were still shaved tight to their skulls. Their neck tattoos were identical. They wore green football uniforms Desi recognized as the Leesiders’ club colors from Cork. The men lifted their chins, sniffing the air and milling aimlessly. The wounds on their hands and arms — defensive wounds, Desi called them — could be readily seen. The men seemed oblivious to their bites and intent only on finding new victims. The zombies came and went until, just before nightfall, three ran down the middle of the street chasing a barking dog.
Sinjin-Smythe whispered as he stood his watch, peering out the window. “Whatever Shiva thought she was going to accomplish, her plan can’t work.”
When the doctor turned from the window, his smile was broad and assured. “Look at those things. They’re plenty dangerous and scary now, but how long can they last? They don’t feed on each other. I’ve been watching for hours and they’re dumb animals. Worse than dumb animals, maybe. They’d fight each other over a bone like wolves, but I don’t even see any hierarchy to their groups. They move in packs, but there’s no clear alpha to lead. They’re disorganized and there’s no strategy! They’re obviously good at spreading the virus and eager to bite, but after a victim is bitten…I don’t know. They seem to lose interest unless they’re in a feeding frenzy.”
“I see one parallel with animal behavior,” Dayo said. “If you run, they chase you. Like wild dogs.”
“Perhaps you’re right. But I can’t see how they can last. They’re too erratic. At this rate, the world will be ours again in a week, maybe two…as long as we can deny them their meals.”
Dayo shook her head. “So you’re saying that once they eat as many of us as they can find, their food supply will run out? They’ll starve to death and all we have to do is hide and wait for the inevitable?”
“Of course.”
“What do you know of the terrorists’ plans, doctor?”
He shrugged. “Nothing.”
“Excuse me,” Desi said, “but if you know nothing of their plans, how do you know this isn’t it?”
Sinjin-Smythe turned back to the window and sulked.
Three men in business suits shambled by. Their pants were ripped to expose pale, spindly legs. The one in the lead was missing his right cheek. He stopped, turned and appeared to look straight at the doctor, who shivered behind his peephole. The doctor could see the infected man’s teeth all the way back to his molars. The man’s mouth moved — open and closed, open and closed — as a thick line of
Similar Books
