Our Undead Read online

  OUR UNDEAD

  ABE

  By Theo Vigo

  Smashwords Edition

  Copyright © 2013, Theo Vigo

  Editing by Theo Vigo

  Cover Design by Gabriel Ponce de Leon

  Thank you for downloading this free ebook. You are welcome to share it with your friends. This book may be reproduced, copied and distributed for non-commercial purposes, provided the book remains in its complete original form. If you enjoyed this book, please return to Smashwords.com to discover other works by this author. Thank you for your support.

  This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the writer's imagination or have been used fictitiously and are not to be considered as real. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, locale or organizations is entirely coincidental.

  Published in Toronto, Canada by Theo Vigo

  NOTE FROM THE AUTHOR

  *Disclaimer* As it is stated on the previous page, this is a work of fiction. Although I chose to use real locations/destinations in this book, their characteristics have been altered as I see fit to suit the plot. Any medical information is skewed as well, although, I did my fair share of research on specific medical procedures and equipment. The best way to think about the world in this novel is that it is our world but in another dimension.

  This is my first attempt at self-publishing and believe me when I say that I worked hard at it. Throughout is journey there have been unexpected obstacles around every corner. There is always some problem that needs to be fixed, and I expect there to be many more. I welcome feedback of kinds. Whether good or bad, if you feel the need, leave a comment, because I need to know what I'm doing right and wrong. It's the only way I can get better as a writer and self-publisher.

  I came up with this story in the summer of 2011, about a girl who trains a zombie. During that summer I wrote the premise and brief descriptions of the parts I saw in my head, however, I left it at that and didn't start writing on it again until May 2012. Ever since the idea's conception, the characters and events of the story never stopped tumbling around in my mind, so when I started taking it seriously in May, it was easy for the many ideas I had to be transmitted on to my laptop.

  My initial plan was to have it written by October 2012, just in time for Halloween. Oh, how naive I was. I had no idea how much work had to be put in when writing a novel, especially when you're working on it by yourself. I am a man of little means at this point in my life, so looking for professional designers and editors was out of the question for me. I didn't have money to spend of them (and still don't), so I put in hours of extra work editing and formatting by myself. It had its moments of extreme tedium, but I learned a lot and I think I'm better off for it.

  At first, I didn't really care what people might think of this work, but the more time went by, the more seriously I started taking the process. I still have a thick skin, and I expect comments both good and bad. I think the most important thing is that I am finally satisfied with the story I am about to share with you. Thank you to those of you who continue to read on. Whether you end up liking the story or not, at least you took a chance on me, and for that, I am appreciative. For those of you who choose not to continue, that's fine. Go find a book that you can fall in love with.

  ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

  A special thanks to one of my most talented friends, Gabriel, for taking the time to discuss this story and help create its awesomely distinctive cover page. May its simple image be burned into the minds of all until the actual zombie apocalypse comes to fruition.

  Thanks to my mom and brother for a their support, both financial and sentimental.

  To my dad, for always stressing the importance of reading. R.I.P

  To zombies, the writers who scribe their tales, studios that make their movies, and everyone else who celebrates the zombie experience.

  To my friends, any who have played a part in keeping me laughing and properly motivated.

  My friends and family are like my fuel.

  And lastly, thank you to my-self. I wouldn't have been able to do this without you, dude.

  TABLE OF CONTENTS

  1-Reborn

  2-The Origin - Part 1

  3-Hard Times

  4-The Origin - Part 2

  5-Worlds Collide

  6-Elucidation

  7-Bow To The Alter

  8-What's In A Name?

  9-The Third Wheel

  10-Young Hero

  11-Secrets

  12-Stalker, Suit & Salvation

  13-Left 4 Dead

  14-Eternity

  15-Sacrifice

  16-Lab Rats

  17-Vibe Rating

  18-Life From Above

  19-Come Together, Right Now, Under Me

  20-Night Clasped

  21-Gone Missing

  22-Unexpect The Expected

  23-Fausta The People

  24-Secrets Revelled

  25-Free-For-Some

  26-The Origin - Part 3

  27-Suhh Suhh, Eye To Eye

  28-The End Of The Beggining

  REBORN

  His second life begins in an empty dark room of a hostel, where a single tube light on the ceiling flickers, and the dust never seems to settle. Ironically, this windowless room in which a man is given a second life, a cursed life, but a life nonetheless, is rank with the foul stench of death. He lays on the only bed in this small room, flat on his back with his eyes closed, looking sickly, yet peaceful. He is a handsome man, probably in his forties, but most likely in his late to mid-thirties. His skin has gone pale, chalky and dull. It is much more grey now than the dirty peach it had been before. His hair, however, is still the same dark auburn, only sweat through and messed from the trauma and fever. There is no way of knowing for sure how long this man's body has been inoperative, but we meet him at a special time, where in a matter of moments a transformation will come into complete fruition. He opens his eyes.

  Had you a chance to converse with any of the members of his family, they would tell you that this man's eyes are the most vibrant shade of hazelnut anyone has ever seen, but now they are greyed. So much so that not a hint of their nutty brown hue can be seen, and anyone not knowing him prior to this transformation, could ever guess that they used to be such a color. Even his pupils have lost a considerable amount of opaqueness. As if getting used to them again, he remains on his back, blinking and staring at the ceiling.

  Even though he is covered up to his waist by a dirty blanket, we can see that he has been partly undressed. A white dress shirt sits messily on the floor beside the bed, and the man has been left wearing a white t-shirt. His feet are also uncovered wearing no shoes or socks. His left arm has been wounded, and has been wrapped up amateurishly with bandages that have already been bled through. Beads of sweat sit on the undead man's forehead, possibly from the fever that took his life, or maybe from the room's insufferable heat. His body cooks in this, his personal tomb.

  Possibly, it is this heat that prompts him to swiftly sit up in his bed. Staying seated, he takes a moment to scan his surroundings. Beside him, on a bedside table sits an empty picture frame, and all over the room items are scattered; a couple of chairs beside the bed, an opened backpack on the floor, a few shoddy medical instruments on the opposing bedside table and a dresser drawer at the foot of the bed with a few more. Whilst scanning, a soft rumbling becomes apparent to the risen man. It is coming from somewhere else inside the building. His eyes roll to the left, staring at the door. He head slowly follows suit.

  With a goal now set in his mind, he attempts to ease himself off the bed, but his injured appendage fails him. He must have forgotten about it in this new state he is in, and the weakened left arm falls out from under him. On h
is way down to the floor, the undead man smashes his forehead on the bedside table, causing it to wobble. The picture frame that stood on it comes tumbling down after him, hits him on the back of the head and lands on the floor next to him.

  Laying face down, it is seen that he wears a pair of black dress pants to go along with his white tee. Our zombie slowly pushes himself up with both hands and turns to look at the picture frame. He stares blankly at it until more muffled crashing noises call out to him from inside the building. They manage to take his focus away from the broken frame that he seems to be so lost in, and he continues to lift himself up from the floor. A normal man might've felt the pain from that bloodied arm, let it beat him, but zombies don't feel physical pain. When he is up on his feet, he makes his way out of the room.

  He begins walking down one of the long dark hallways of the hostel. It looks quite lived in, run down and is just as dusty as the room our zombie woke up in. The hallways are, however, lit slightly better, though some lights still commit to flickering. Some of the rooms he passes by have been boarded up by 2x4s, some with signs that read, "SICK ROOM", "DEAD INSIDE", and "LEAVE US ALONE". Some doors are completely open, but no one is around or in them as our zombie walks down the hall toward the source of the resonating racket.

  After some wandering, he finds that not all of the corridors are well lit. Lights have either been broken or blown in some areas, leaving them almost, if not completely dark, but the undead man walks along unbothered by his frightening surroundings. More and more the unsettling sounds grow louder as he is most definitely getting closer to wherever they are coming from. He comes upon another one of the darker, badly lit corridors, and turns the corner to see what should be a familiar sight.

  There is a man at the other end. He is stooped down and leaning against the wall of the far corner. His back is the only thing that can be made out, but it is easy to see that the man is breathing deeply and shaking distinctly. He seems to be distracted by something that is going on around the other side of the corner he is hiding on, constantly cautiously checking around it as if to make sure no one or no thing is following him. Unfortunately for the troubled, preoccupied man, he doesn't hear our zombie approaching him from behind, and by the time he does, it is too late. This is our zombie's first taste of human flesh, and it is good.

  He feeds vigorously on the back of his victim's neck and torso. You would think that he hasn't eaten in years. He may have picked the man to the bone if not for the fast approaching footsteps that run up and make a squeaking stop on the tiled floor in front of him. They get our zombie's attention, and he lifts his head from the corpse of the distracted man to see a teenaged girl with short blond hair and dark eyes. She wears a grey hoody that is two sizes too big, with the sleeves pulled up and a black short skirt. She is standing several feet in front of him, and her face turns from one of terror to hopelessness when she sees the now reddened face of our zombie.

  To him, she is nothing more than his next meal, a much fresher meal. He gets back up and starts hobbling toward her, quicker than one might expect a zombie to hobble, but instead of running, the hopeless girl slowly backs away, shaking her head and sobbing.

  ShortBlondeHairedGirl: No… no… Please stop… Please.

  But he doesn't listen to her. Comprehension of the English language is just one of the many faculties lost to the disease that stole his normal life. He continues walking to her, quickening his pace the closer he gets, as if his first taste of flesh has made him eager for his next. The girl finally comes to her senses seconds before she is within our zombie's reach and runs away, back to where she came from. He watches her run around the corner, and a door can be heard being opened and then slamming shut. He follows her round it and sees that the girl truly has run through a door; a double door into another room. The sounds of screaming and disorder become louder, plural, and frenzied, as our zombie gets closer to it.

  When he pushes his way through, he finds himself in a massacre. It seems this hostel was being used as a safe house for many families and other random folk. This room he is in is a much larger one that looks like some sort of neutral waiting area, and has been overrun by our zombie's kin. They had burst through a couple of badly kept windows, and now have the hostel's tenants fighting for their lives.

  Before joining them, he takes a few seconds to look around and absorb his surroundings. Many tenants have already been caught and eaten, their chewed up bodies spread about the floor. Some people cower in fear, like the man in the hallway our zombie had encountered earlier. They tremble as if it isn't humid, as if the air isn't as warm and moist as it currently is, frozen in such a heat. Others fight for their lives with whatever weapon they can get in their hands. The most popular weapon seems to be the lightweight foldable steel chair. Some have proper weapons. There are a few with baseball bats, one man with a machete, and a few gun shots are even heard going off, although, it is hard to tell whether or not they were shot from inside or out. One thing is clear, and that is that the residents inside this hostel had not been properly prepared.

  Our zombie stands sentient by the double doors he had entered, watching the brouhaha unfold, until one unsuspecting gentleman gets too close; an innocent man, merely trying to escape his situation, but unaware that a new flesh eater has gotten mixed into the equation. The moment he gets too close, it's like a trigger is pulled inside the mind of our new zombie, like the snapping of an elastic band. He brings the man to the ground and gorges upon him arrogantly. A few of his opportunist undead mates join him.

  The teenage girl from the hall stands not too far away from it all. The whole room is frantic and buzzing around her. Escapists bump into her as they run by, as do their hungry pursuers. A guardian angel must be working overtime, or karma in her debt, for no zombies take notice of her while she stays there in her daze. She is unconcerned with everything going on around her except our zombie, the new zombie. Her eyes on locked on his new face, so pale, not at all like she remembers it, with red globs of skin and muscle hanging from his mouth.

  Before her karma runs out, luck comes to her in the form of a real life guardian angel. A girl, who looks to be about the same age, with the same blonde hair but longer, in a white t-shirt and black shorts, notices the stagnant teenager lost in despair, stuck in the middle of everything. The golden haired hero runs over to her similar looking friend and shakes her roughly back to reality. She turns to see what the dazed girl is looking at, and immediately understands the reason for her friend's current state of paralysis. She too recognizes the man. Her expression is sad but understanding, comprehending of everything, especially the fact that this is not the place where they should be standing around. Her friend, however, still doesn't get it, so she grabs her again and gives her another startling shake.

  LongBlondeHairedGirl: COME ON!! I'M SORRY, BUT WE HAVE TO GO NOW!!

  Her desperate attempt to regain the other girl's consciousness is a success as she snaps her out of it. The dazed girl can no longer help but move now, seeing as she is being tugged away by her similar looking guardian angel, but she takes one last drawn out look at the undead man before she gets pulled back into the thick and loses sight of him forever. The two teenage girls run away through the crowd, dodging prey and predator alike.

  LongBlondeHairedGirl: MOM! DAD! WE'RE COMING!!

  When the victim has run his course, our zombie gets up, and like it is his second nature, continues partaking in the customary festivities of his new lifestyle. His first two kills are only the beginning of this, his first co-operative take over. The room is still ripe with plenty of palatable living beings. The aroma of them is so thick to him, it is as if he is swimming in their musk, not only pleasurable to the smell receptors, but causing a deep yearning in him, an emptiness that needs to be filled. He satisfies this emptiness again, clawing at a businesswoman's dancing black locks of hair. Seconds ago she was trying to bat a zombie off of her kid sister, and now she lays pinned on the floor. She fights for herself, but is una
ble to overpower the three more infected that join our zombie on top of her within seconds. They finish her, behaving like a champion pride of lions.

  With each kill, it becomes clearer that the higher up on the body he goes, the more flavorful the taste. He intrudes on one of the other zombie's kills, biting down on the neck of a Spanish man, helping in bringing him to the ground. As he does this, the two teenage girls escape through a broken in window, along with a middle-aged woman, a woman who looks like she is just entering middle age and two other men; one fat, one tanned and well-built. All of them are encouraged to move quickly by another middle-aged man who waves them through and leaves the scene last. They all exit safely while our zombie chews down on the man's neck and moves up to the cranium. It takes some time to break through the resilient human skull, but our zombie has an insatiable need to get to the source of the scent beckoning to him from inside. His teeth puncture the tough shield and expose the soft brain therein. It's difficult, even for me to explain the feeling he experiences, but I would imagine the effects on our zombie are easily comparable to the effects felt by a first time crystal meth user.

  He must have another taste. He gets up from the Spanish man's emptied out skull and looks for another meal. It's becoming easier to spot the vulnerable humans, the ones who are not fully aware of their surroundings, either because they are busy fighting or because they are scared useless. He quickly spots an injured young man, limping through the crowd unnoticed, a perfect target. Our zombie pushes passed everybody in the crowd, locked on his prey, not even considering any of the other potential feeds, until his prize is only a few feet away. Just as he is about to grab the wounded man, another zombie intercepts the kill and gets the first bite. This quicker zombie drags the young man to the ground, leaving our zombie the second dibs.