Still Alive: A Zombie Apocalypse Novel

By A.C. Thorne

Light bends around the edges of a cloaked elliptical sphere as it glides down and attaches to a freeway overpass. It begins spraying a green mist that wafts down across all lanes of traffic. It’s the evening rush hour in Tokyo and there are millions of cars on the freeways so the green mist goes largely unnoticed.

A similar scene happens near Moscow, then again through several major cities across Asia and Europe including London, England. Following the setting sun to the west across the Atlantic Ocean, New York City comes into view and a similar transparent object comes down and attaches itself to a freeway overpass, contaminating cars in both directions with the same green mist.

Panning up from the freeway system every contaminated car is seen as a green dot on a larger map of the area. Continuing to move up and away from the Earth, a continual stream of green dots can be seen, which represent contaminated cars, moving in both directions, spreading away from the spray point. The city quickly saturates with lime green as cars seem to pour down all side streets and through every area of the city almost simultaneously.

Continuing to lift up and away, the less populated areas can be seen saturating with green as well. Not as quickly as the cities have, but still with amazing efficiency and almost total coverage. Continuing to zoom out, the shape of the East Coast of the United States comes into view as millions of little green dots, beginning in the major cities, spread across the entire Eastern Seaboard...

Ceres is a recently unemployed and recently single twenty-something. Already burned out on the pursuits of love and money she decides to move away from the city at just the right time. Burnout, she would learn, is the mother of intuition.

STILL ALIVE is a genre-crossing thrill ride which takes the reader from narrowly surviving a zombie outbreak to learning that the plague is just the pre-cursor to something even larger and much more sinister.

Just when solo running and gunning seems like the epitome of surviving a running-zombie infested world STILL ALIVE leads us to the cusp of hard science fiction, reinventing the zombie ‘virus’ while at the same time upgrading it to seeming plausibility.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Permuted
• Release date: Jul 28, 2014
• ISBN: 9781618683281

Book preview

PART ONE

THE OUTBREAK

CHAPTER ONE

The entire sphere of the earth is stretched out beneath me: blue ocean, orange horizon, dark land, and a soft vignette separating night from day. Without warning I accelerate downward, diving through air and white vapor. A long island appears and I zoom down toward its east side. What am I that I can move this fast?

A long gray line comes into view. As I zoom closer it becomes recognizable as a freeway. I can make out the cars like ants at first, which quickly become full-sized. I fly under a concrete overpass and attach to it, but can’t see myself.

Suddenly a green mist begins spraying down, away from where I am—from me?

My perspective shifts to the driver of one of the oncoming cars. I see the mist coming down, but don’t see what it’s coming from. It blankets the windshield and starts coming in through the air vents. I put my hand up in front of a vent and the green mist wafts through my fingers.

***

I wake to the sun spilling into my bedroom through the partially opened vertical blinds. I try but can’t seem to remember any details from the strange dream that I was having. All that remains is an uneasy feeling. Oh well, just a dream.

The cube clock on my nightstand reads 8:44. I blink a few times, making the red digital display disappear a split-second before everything else.

I turn from my side to my back and rest another minute before kicking back the covers and declaring today another off day with a smile on my face.

It would be more accurate to say another month off since, technically, I haven’t worked in months, but there’s no one here to split hairs with me over it, so I just continue to smile, walk out to my living room, and plop down on my soft blue loveseat.

I live in a small two bedroom apartment. It’s a little more space than I really need, but the price was right and I like having the second bedroom as a garage for my road bike.

The only productive thing I have planned for today is my usual twelve mile ride up the hill and back. Time for breakfast, I announce to my empty apartment as I jump up and grab my sport mixing bottle off of the dish dryer in the kitchen, fill it halfway with water, and add a single scoop of chocolate flavored protein powder.

I pinch the wire whisk that came with the cup down into a flat circle then let it spring out to a spherical shape before dropping it in and shaking for a few seconds, then I take it to my bathroom mirror to drink while pondering my appearance.

A blue-eyed girl stares back at me. Her hair is long, reddish-brown and in severe need of brushing. I wish it were more red than brown, like my mother’s hair. My mother.

When I first moved here, I had forgotten what her face looked like, but not her hair. Her long, gorgeous red hair. It has been over five years since I saw her, and the only thing I can remember is her hair and how much I envied it. What a total brat I must be to only remember envying my mom’s hair.

I examine my pale skin. My pouty lips are a stark contrast—almost red by comparison. Then I put my hair up with a couple bands, finish my protein shake, and get ready to ride.

Time to put my clip shoes on along with my other cycling accoutrements: Gloves, shorts, shirt, helmet, glasses, phone, keys, and a filled bottle of water.

As I step out through my front door and guide my bike to the second floor balcony walkway, a clear blue sky greets me. It feels like it’s seventy degrees Fahrenheit already. Rough weather here in southern California.

I live in a slightly older apartment complex that consists of two large rectangular buildings facing each other across a parking lot. The white stucco walls are parsed by tan support columns which curve into Spanish-style arches.

As I descend the stairs, a man behind me says, Good morning, Ceres.

I know who it is without having to look. Morning, Bob. How’s retirement treating you today? Bob is an elderly gentleman who looks a lot like Santa Claus and lives on the first floor in my building.

No complaints. He gives a toothy grin. How about you?

I’m only semi-retired, but it’s going pretty well. I snicker. Have a nice day. Then I mount my bicycle.

Enjoy your ride, he says as I leave.

The trek is mostly on a two lane highway with a large bicycle lane, so I don’t have to worry too much about being run over. My mind starts to drift as I peddle past the arid brown landscape, passing the last few buildings in my small town. As I cross the border, something dawns on me. I may actually be happy living alone.

I lost my job over the summer and my last boyfriend a few months before that. Though I didn’t really miss either of them. I did think of Brad from time to time and wondered what, or who, he was doing. But it was nice no longer having to conform to his expectations. Or anyone else’s for that matter.

I liked being a graphic artist for the first few years, but then it started turning into such a grind with never ending deadlines and an unhappy boss.

Who am I kidding? It was the new boss that single-handedly ruined the job for me for the last two years. I never had a problem with work before that. Sam Hart. What a tool. Or shart, as we used to call him. Well, those days are over now and I have enough savings and unemployment to keep me fed. And why shouldn’t I enjoy some time off?

Brad was my third serious relationship. My third failed relationship. He was the third time that was supposed to be the charm. Ha! Brad, a charm. Well, he is attractive, but definitely not charming. More like another tool from the seemingly bottomless tool chest of the world.

I don’t hate men. I just haven’t had the best of luck. Though I guess I can’t completely blame them, since it is a two way street. Suppose I just haven’t met the right one yet. At least that’s what I tell myself. But somehow I don’t fully believe it. I think maybe there isn’t a Mr. Right out there for me. Maybe I’m doomed to be a serial Mr. Wrong dater the rest of my life. Or maybe it’s not even them at all. Maybe there’s something about me that makes it impossible for me to be able to cohabitate with anyone else.

Not to say there’s anything wrong with me. Maybe that’s just how it has to be. Or as a former co-worker put it, It is what it is. In any event, I don’t see a problem with embracing my own solitude for a while until I figure out what to do with the rest of my life. I’ll spend some time getting to know myself a little better. Just me in my house with my rules and nobody else’s.

My thinking is interrupted when I realize how steep the hill I’m riding up is starting to become. I downshift a couple gears, then a couple more before the peddling becomes easy again. I like my morning rides. They get me outside and give me just the right amount of cardio. But the fast downhill part is my favorite. The whole ride takes less than an hour and it’s a great day starter.

Before you know it, I’m home again, and after a quick shower I’m feeling refreshed and ready for anything.

My phone beeps and I pull it from my bike bag. One missed call: Dana. She was a former co-worker who became my friend.

I slip into a comfy skirt and shirt then call her back. What’s up, D?

Hey Ceeerees, or, I mean Mila! Oh my God, Mila! I’m such a big fan!

OKAY, SHUT UP, I say, a little perturbed. I do NOT look like her. Her eyes are way bigger than mine and she doesn’t even have red hair! Dana likes to tease me about an actress she thinks I look like, but I just find it irritating.

You don’t have red hair either.

Well maybe not, I say, but at least my hair is red...ish. We both start laughing at the same time.

Dana is more than just a friend. She’s my dearest, best friend and maybe my only true friend. When I moved out of Brad’s, she was there for me. I had no place to go and she invited me to stay with her. She let me live with her for several months and never charged me rent. She never told me I had to move out either. I just felt like it was time. And that’s when I found my current, highly affordable apartment, which ended up being over an hour’s drive from hers.

How’s life in the boonies? she says.

It’s very nice out here in the boonies. How’s work?

Good, since I’m working from home today.

Ha! That must be nice.

I was wondering if you could help me with a zombie problem? she says.

Wow, I want your job! Actually, I take that back. I like my job better.

You don’t have a job.

I know. I laugh.

Just get your butt online.

Dana and I have been known to play multiplayer games together, and Call of Duty: Zombies is our all-time favorite. I turn on my TV and console, which begins to hum. Plug the headset into controller and I’m online. Game invite from DZkiller appears on the screen and I accept. Soon we are chatting again and I ask, What’s your poison?

She changes the map to Call of the Dead and starts the game. Our characters appear on a snowy surface by a pond.

Dang, you always get to be Buffy! Dana complains.

A large zombie named George slowly trudges out of the center of the pond towards us. TIME...TO EEEAT, he bellows.

Then the real threats appear, coming out of the ground and from all directions. They’re not fast zombies yet because it is only round one. Every successive round makes them stronger, faster, and harder to kill, and by round eight the majority have become runners.

Having played this many times before, we run our usual pattern, opening up barriers and end up on top of a large ship by the cockpit. There is a zip line here that we can use for a quick escape when we get overrun. It leads back down to the start area.

We have a moment to relax now as we only have a couple crawlers left. These are zombies that have had their legs blown off, usually by a grenade. Crawlers move slowly, so this gives us time to resupply our ammo or grab better weapons for the next round before the onslaught begins.

Now we’re hitting the magic box. It’s where we spend points gained from kills to buy a random weapon.

Random is never good in a survival situation, I say as Dana pulls a sniper rifle out, which is one of the worst weapons to get because of its complete lack of close quarter combat functionality.

Crappy box! She takes another stab at it.

I like Buffy much better as a zombie slayer than a vampire slayer, I say to pass the time while we wait for the next random weapon to come up. Maybe I’m just tired of vampires in general.

I hear that. Dana pulls out a nice looking assault rifle called a Galil. Finally, a decent MG. And, with that, we finish off the crawlers and return to the ship as round nine begins.

We don’t have much trouble finishing round nine off with our upgraded firepower and roll right into round ten. This time we start to get overrun.

Fling? I ask.

FLING! Dana shouts back, which is our signal to drop onto a device on the side of the ship that we refer to as the flinger. When we land, a timer is activated by a pressure plate. Two seconds later we are launched into the air and across the map where we safely land near the lighthouse.

Next we run down some stairs and open a door leading into the lighthouse, then we move down a spiral staircase to the bottom.

I open another door leading to a square room at the back of the lighthouse. Here, we find an ice slide that leads to a new part of the map. We hold out at the top of the slide for as long as possible before jumping on while we get overrun from multiple directions.

We land in freezing cold water at the bottom and have to plow through it for over one hundred feet before we reach snowy land.

I’ll stay here and you do the other circle? I ask, though this is our normal end game strategy on this map.

A circle is a place on the map large enough to be able to lead the herd around once they get too strong to put down quickly. In a good circle, you can keep leading them around indefinitely without getting surrounded and without even having to fire a shot.

I let Dana have the better circle because I know she needs it. We finish the next few rounds here, and then on round fourteen she goes down.

Hang on. I’ll get you, I say, while leading a mob twenty strong to the back side of my circle. When someone goes down, a teammate has thirty seconds to revive them before they disappear from the game.

I make a dash for it and am able to revive her just before the mob is on top of us. We run up and around and down the slide again then back to our circles for the next round.

In round fifteen, Dana goes down again.

Dammit! I blurt out.

Sorry.

I run the same loop and revive her, but as we’re running away she goes down again. Now I’m committed to running the long way around and going down the slide before I can get back to her, and she disappears before I get there.

She will end up reappearing at the start of the next round, minus her weapons. This makes it very difficult for her to recover due to the lack of a decent firearm.

I finish the round in her circle with little effort then she reappears for round seventeen. She goes down again. This time away from the circle, and I am unable to get to her before she disappears once more.

Round eighteen. Dana goes down and I revive her three times in a row. On her fourth fall, instead of me doing the smart thing and saving myself, I try to revive her and we both get surrounded and go down. Game over.

Want to do another map? I ask.

Hang on. I just got another email, she says. Crap, I have to go in for a two o’clock meeting.

I’m sorry. Well, don’t work too hard.

Talk to you later.

Bye.

I stare at the game menu while thinking. Round eighteen, pfft. I’ve made it past round forty playing solo. Why is multiplayer so much harder than single? The other players just seem to mess you up. It’s more fun playing with a friend, but if my life depended on it I’d definitely go solo.

Time for lunch. Pangs of hunger start to hit me. I fix myself some chicken quesadillas and put on an episode of the Big Bang Theory to watch while I eat. That show always cracks me up.

After it finishes, I flip channels while deciding what I want to do next. I stop on a news channel, where a reporter says, We have lost contact with all of Japan, except for a ham radio operator on a small island off the coast of Fukuoka City. There’s some type of civil disturbance. We will report more when the information becomes available.

How do you lose contact with an entire country? Did their nuclear power plants melt down and kill their whole power grid?

Googling turns up no useful data on the disturbance, so I decide to play something else online. I sign in and choose my character Immolatress.

For a moment, I admire her long, dark red hair and her fabulous blue dress. I like to think that I look like her, but I have to admit that she has better hair than I do.

After entering the world, I soon find myself flying on the back of a griffin. I fly down to the city beneath me and promptly enter a dungeon queue where I await four others who will join the party so we can brave the dangerous depths as a group. You can enter a dungeon solo, but in this particular game going with a group is a much better idea.

Soon I’m presented with the famous "Enter Dungeon? prompt. I click yes" and am transported to a dark underground entrance.

The players say hello then we get right to the action, attacking the first group of monsters before us. Everyone knows what to do and we have an easy time. We take down the first boss within fifteen minutes.

Even at a fast pace, this dungeon will still take well over an hour to complete. Time passes quickly and we take down the last boss and complete the adventure with the usual ty (thank you) from all before each leaves the party. I look at the clock and am amazed that almost two hours have passed. It is now 3:00 in the afternoon.

Then I notice a strange message in the server chat window. THERE’S SOMETHING WEIRD HAPPENING IN ENGLAND! MY FRIEND SAID THERE ARE MAD CANNIBALS IN THE STREET TRYING TO EAT PEOPLE. HE WAS HIDING IN HIS APARTMENT AND COULDN’T GET THROUGH TO THE POLICE BECAUSE THEIR PHONES ARE BUSY. HIS INTERNET WAS STILL UP WHEN HE TOLD ME THIS, BUT NOW I’VE LOST CONTACT WITH HIM! WHAT IS HAPPENING?

Already the naysayers are rebutting, Nice try, but we’ve seen hoaxes before.

This is a hoax.

^^^ HOAX ^^^

Nice hoax, dude. Why don’t you just call them zombies?

I turn the TV back on to a report claiming parts of Europe are blacking out, just like Japan did earlier. There is no mention of cannibalism or anything beyond the benign civil disturbance phrase, which tells me absolutely nothing.

A strange feeling overcomes me. Normally I ignore my intuition, but this time it’s different. This time it’s as if every cell of my being is screaming for me to prepare for the worst.

CHAPTER TWO

My stomach sinks. What if this is the beginning of the end? I decide to go shop for food and supplies just in case. I have to beat the rush. But first I need a gun. Though I know how to shoot, I don’t own a firearm. I grab my keys, my small purse, and run out the front door.

At the gun store, I check out a Glock pistol. Just like Brad’s. But I know there is a waiting period on handguns, so I turn my attention to the rifles and find a nice black .22 semi-auto.

The man behind the counter finishes with his previous customer and greets me with a, Howdy ma’am, how can I help you? He is an older guy with gray moustache and sideburns—an authentic looking cowboy with hat and all.

How much for this rifle?

Three hundred fifty dollars.

I’ll take it. I reach for the wallet in my purse.

Okay. Just fill out this form and you can pick it up in ten days.

There’s a waiting period on rifles? The sinking feeling returns.

Yes ma’am.

Is there anything I can get without the waiting period?

I do have this air rifle. He pulls it up from behind the counter.

A BB gun?

It shoots .22 caliber pellets, he says, and has a muzzle velocity over nine hundred feet per second after three pumps, which rivals the standard .22 caliber rifles.

I’ll take it. It’s not exactly what I was looking for, but it’s better than nothing. I also purchase two thousand .22 caliber pellets and then I’m off to the grocery store.

It’s almost 4:00 now and I need to hurry. I buy ten gallons of bottled water along with a cart full of canned foods, including tuna, chicken soup, chili, mixed vegetables, green beans, sweet peas, corn, etc. Then I decide to get some of my favorite Chunky clam chowder. It’s kind of expensive, so I don’t buy it often. But if this turns out to be the end of the world then I’m going out in luxury!

I list what I can make with no electricity and no heat. After grabbing four large containers of my favorite chocolate protein shake powder, I hit the cracker aisle for some wheat thins and trail mix. I get some of my favorite cheese then swing back to the produce aisle to grab four dozen red apples.

The lady at the checkout gives me a strange look. Stocking up?

What gave it away? I smile.

It’s almost 5:00 now and, I don’t know why, but I’m getting more and more nervous the closer it gets to evening. I finish loading everything into my car. As I’m driving out of the parking lot, I notice a parked car with a person slouching in the front. Maybe he or she is just sleeping.

I’m back home in five minutes and it takes me six trips from the car to the apartment to get everything upstairs. I keep a watchful eye out during this time, but I only see a few people and they seem pretty normal to me. The sky has grown overcast.

After I close my front door, I lean back against it with a sigh.

Shit, Dana! I grab my phone and call her, but it’s busy so I leave a message. D, it’s me. Have you seen the news lately? Call me back, okay?

Who else should I warn? If my parents were still alive, I’d warn them. I would warn a sibling if I had one. Then there’s Brad. I decide not to call him. He wouldn’t believe me anyway and he’s not exactly the greatest listener in the world. Besides, he’s got enough guns and ammo. He should be fine.

I really hope that I’ll be laughing about this tomorrow. It can’t be real, can it?

After putting everything away, I get back on my game account to see what the chat is like. After a few minutes, I see a new message scrolling up. MY DAD JUST CAME HOME AND ATTACKED MY MOM AND MY BROTHER AND I’M LOCKED IN MY ROOM AND CAN’T GET THROUGH TO 911. After mixed replies from others, he gives his address and finishes with, THEY’RE BANGING ON MY DOOR! SOMEBODY PLEASE HELP! The address is in New York.

I turn on the TV and a reporter says that they have some footage of the strange riots that are now occurring in New York. He warns the scenes are disturbing before showing a clip. It starts in a parking lot, and there are people screaming and running in all directions. People are being chased and wrestled to the ground. The camera zooms in on a man on his back, who’s being eaten by five ghoulish people.

Another group runs by and as their pursuers pass they turn and rush the camera. Their eyes are an unnaturally bright shade of green. They knock the camera to the ground and the last thing we hear are the screams from the cameraman.

Whatever this epidemic is, the reporter continues, it is spreading so fast that this is the only type of footage we have been able to get, and only from satellite feeds. The best thing for everyone to do is to stay inside your homes, lock your doors and windows, and wait for the police and military to handle this situation.

I call Dana again and get a strange busy signal. So I fill my new air rifle with ammo then look out through the blinds. Nothing. I start getting antsy and just don’t know what to do with myself. Long term survival plans fill my brain. The power will soon go out if this thing continues. The water will also probably stop. I grab a bucket from under my kitchen sink and fill it up just in case.

Then a woman screams outside. It’s horrific and makes the hairs stand up on the back of my neck. I rush to the blinds, but can’t see anyone around. Just then something moves past me, right on the other side of the glass. My heart jumps up to my throat, but then I hear crying and realize the woman’s running away from something.

With my finger stuck in the vertical blinds, I remain paralyzed. Heavy footfalls of the pursuer approach as he lumbers after her. The attacker passes from left to right, just a few feet in front of me with only a thin layer of glass separating us. The pursuer’s voice sounds more animal than human, like some kind of wild cat.

More screams, but I don’t look this time. It’s too close. I remove my finger and sit on the floor. This is really happening. My paralysis worsens as I freeze up in fear. This is really happening.

I don’t know how much time passes. It could be five minutes but it feels like an eternity. Get up, dammit. GET UP!

I need to barricade my front window somehow. My desk! I clear it off, slide it over then lift it up on top of the shelf just under the window, which houses the air conditioning unit. I’m able to tilt it and place the top of the desk against the glass. It is wider than the window by six inches on each side, but leaves about three feet open at the top. This won’t do. I need to come up with a better plan.

I wonder if they can smell me? Remembering how well vinegar covers scents, I go into the kitchen and grab a bottle of the clear liquid. I grab an empty spray bottle from under the sink and fill it. Then I spray around the edges of the window, but when I get to the front door I realize that there is a decent draft coming through. From my closet, I grab a big roll of duct tape then start covering the gap between the door and the frame.

A loud BOOM comes from outside and my heart jumps. Through the kitchen window blinds, I see a man wielding a shotgun in the doorway to the downstairs apartment directly across from me. He fires at one of the fiends and knocks it off of its feet. Several more rush towards him and he slams the door on them, locking them out just in time.

They bang wildly at his door, writhing and screeching. More approach as the one he shot in the stomach gets back up! The scene is macabre and disgusting, but I can’t turn away from the spectacle as they smear blood all over his door. There are ten of them now pawing at it and the front window.

Finally I turn away and frown at my air rifle with disgust as the sinking in my stomach turns into a knot. I sit down on the floor in my kitchen and put my head in my hands. These are real zombies! This isn’t happening. This has to be a dream.

I’ve always believed I could survive something like this, but this is too real and too close. My fear leaves me ashamed. As I wallow in my own inadequacy on the floor, it’s all I can do to muster my last bit of denial. This isn’t happening.

Breaking glass gets me up on my feet again. The zombies have broken my neighbor’s front window and are climbing in. A dozen of them! His shotgun goes off twice then the poor man screams.

Shotgun fail.

I know what I need. Handguns, with the largest magazines possible. Thanks to Cali laws, I’m here with a BB gun instead.

I need a plan.

I have an idea. If I can’t kill them, then maybe I can keep them out. Each apartment has a pretty hefty screen security door. When you open the screen door perpendicular to the wall, it is only about six inches away from the railing. If I were to tie one to the railing then it would be very difficult to get past. It would definitely slow them down and may stop them altogether. Of course, I would have to go outside to make this happen, and the thought makes me shudder.

The apartment to the left of mine is empty, so I should start there. I can use the attic access to get in. I don’t have

Reviews for Still Alive

[Kyle Pruden · Rating: 3 out of 5 stars]

pretty good book through it skipped from zombies to aliens much too fast for my liking but still read the book as i was invested by then.