CHAPTER ONE
Flagstaff, Arizona
We pull up in a dusty truck, the early November weather in the high 50s for this time of year, and stop before the man-made barrier. A ragtag group of survivors in what used to be Flagstaff created it eight months ago, and now it stands as archaeological evidence of a community wiped out.
The cars are parked in rows three feet deep, with one row pointing away from the town for easy access and to open the way for visitors or survivors. The cars remain in formation, except for the last barrier, which is now left open for those of us who fled almost eight weeks ago.
After the attack, most of the community disappeared, never making it to the ranch, a satellite community where folks stayed on after the outbreak. It helps with keeping our only source of fresh food up and running.
Presumably, and to my dismay, those that never showed up are probably dead.
My last showdown in Flag ended with my BFF’s brother’s baby mama being eaten cruelly and horribly before my eyes. And although I never liked her, Sissy and her unborn baby did not deserve to meet such a violent end.
Cole still struggles with the loss, and I suspect it’s partially because he wasn’t there to protect them when they needed it most. Unfortunately, this is the zombie fucking apocalypse, and death waits for no man, woman, or child in this sick, twisted new world.
Cole and Michele, my BFF, who I was estranged from, along with myself and Jase, a wayward soldier and friend of Cole’s, had made it out of Phoenix after the United States of America was attacked by terrorists carrying a biochemical weapon no one had been prepared for.
Mimicking the symptoms of those crazed fools that were stupid enough to try the recreational bath salts drug, the victims of this horrific attack began to eat each other, and the initial weapon mutated enough to allow this virus to spread via the saliva in the bite of one of those turned. Yeah, it’s an eternally fucked up situation we’re all trying to survive and thrive in.
We haven’t heard more from our government, but with the boon of an almost eternally sunny state and solar power, we have been able to get on the internet. For a while, this allowed us to read news across the world and confirm the idiots that attacked the US couldn’t contain their mess.
Reports have told us the entirety of civilization has been damned. From Egypt, where a lonely group posts their daily struggles to England and a family fighting to survive. We’re all in this together. Unfortunately, the rules have dwindled along with the amount of unturned remaining, not to mention, a lethal savagery that’s invaded the souls of some survivors.
At the beginning, we ended up in Flag because Phoenix was too populated, but eventually, we were forced to flee when the town was overrun. Now it stands before us, eerily quiet, and not even the zombies that pushed us out can be heard from our vantage point at the barrier.
Cole, Michele, Jase, and my new post-apocalypse friend Manny stand and stare quietly. I don’t think any of us are prepared for what we might find, but supplies are a bounty in a world that no longer revolves around food deliveries, 24-7 fast food, and water that comes out of a tap.
Yet being forced to confront what may be the faces of our fellow survivors, turned flesh-eating monsters is the fucked-up reality staring back at us now. We’ll probably be fighting those that we called friends not too long ago.
“Well, what are we waiting for?” I ask with a sigh.
Cole gives me the side-eye, ever the somber fellow these days. I’ve had a crush on Cole since I laid eyes on him on my first day of freshman year at Arizona State University. It was my lucky day when Michele was selected to be my roommate, and although we had a falling out before this disaster, she and I are now back to being friends. I’m grateful, and after everything that’s transpired, I think we’ve grown into a more mature version of our previous selves.
Michele is one of the few human beings in this world that genuinely cares about me—well, I guess that number grew when Manny came along and filled the remainder of that void.
I count Cole, too, although we are tentatively working on a new relationship, all past efforts blocked by outside and often unforeseen forces. I’m glad to be in a position to explore this new situation, but I have to continually remind myself to be patient because the hormonal part of me wants him to get over it and jump my bones. Crass, I know.
I’ve no idea what it’s like to lose a child or have one in the first place, and I’m trying to be patient, kind, and, well, patient. I know Cole cares for me, but it’s a long road of recovery from what we’ve put each other through.
I pump my eyebrows playfully at him and gesture him forward with my hand before bowing at the waist and saying, “After you, kind sir.”
He snorts but moves forward to lead the way, and I take the small miracle of his smile as progress, the gesture warming my insides.
Michele elbows me on the way by, and I wheeze out bitch before following behind her, leaving Jase and Manny to take up the rear.
Flagstaff before the end was a thriving metropolis of just under 72,000 people. Now, with the fall of the fledgling survivor community, all bets are that the remaining inhabitants are of the zombie persuasion on a population census.
Bracing myself, I wander behind Michele, not sure what I’m hoping for, although I’ll take survivors that have been trapped this whole time, waiting to be saved.
Before we fled the last time, I was forced to kill James, one of the community’s leaders, and the loss still weighs heavily on me. Although I was glad to free him of eternal zombiehood, I was saddened about the way it had to end.
We march between the barrier of cars, which stands on the main corridor between Flagstaff and Phoenix, on Interstate 17. In the good old days, people came to Flagstaff to escape the summer weather and enjoy a change of scenery. Now they avoid Phoenix for an entirely different reason. The last time we checked, i.e., when we hightailed it out of dodge, the place was crawling with zombies.
The main street is quiet, and our soft footfalls are the only sound as we creep down the road. The hotel where we first stayed eventually comes into view, and if we keep along the same path, we’ll pass the Sizzler where we ate our meals. Beyond is the Target that supplied the community for the first few months. Unfortunately, it was burning when we fled and is now presumably nothing more than ashes, which we’ll be confirming eventually.
This leaves us with the dubious task of searching for survivors and supplies, house by house if necessary. It’s a dangerous job but one we’ve become used to after months of scavenging. I’m no stranger to survival, although my past has taught me a few things about protection, too.
The wind blows through the streets, causing my dark brown hair to fly around my face, and I push the stray strands, now loose from my ponytail, back behind my ear.