Zombie State

  Zombie Apocalypse #2

  By Samantha Hoffman

  Copyright © 2024 by Samantha Hoffman. All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form, or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without prior permissions of the author. This book is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to persons living or dead is coincidental.

  Dedicated with love to Alan Sua—the man all redneck superheroes should be modeled after.

  Other books by Samantha Hoffman:

  Menagerie Noir (Hawthorne PD #1)

  Syndicate Noir (Hawthorne PD #2)

  Zombie Island (Zombie Apocalypse #1)

  Zombie State (Zombie Apocalypse #2)

  Coming Soon:

  Untitled (Hawthorne PD #3)

  Zombie Country (Zombie Apocalypse #3)

  Zombie World (Zombie Apocalypse #4)

  Book cover design by James at GoOnWrite.com

  Chapter One

  The sound of gunfire wakes me from a horrid nightmare early in the morning. When I slowly open my eyes, I’m met by the same depressing view I’ve seen every morning for months now—thin, dirty sleeping bags placed around an otherwise bare room with thin, dirty young women lying in said bags. They all stare at the boarded-up window with wide-eyed terror as the gunfire continues, but I focus on the thin rays of light that stream in through the boards.

  Focus on the good, not the bad.

  The guns go off at all times of the day, and most of us are used to it by now. Seven months of death and constant fear, destruction, and hopelessness is enough to make anyone hard and insensitive. So even though I can hear the whimpering from some of my younger bunkmates, I don’t really care enough to reach out and comfort them. They should be used to it by now. Crying about it won’t help.

  I get dressed for the day inside my sleeping bag, pulling on mostly clean jeans and a shirt. They’re as clean as a washboard and hand scrubbing with very little laundry detergent can make them. When I’m done, I toss my dirty clothes in a hamper at the door, knowing that I’ll probably never see them again once they’re clean and they’ll go to someone else. I liked that shirt, too.

  I head out into the hallway, leaving the other five girls in the room to cry, and I follow a small stream of fellow survivors down to the school’s cafeteria. Like every day before it, a simple breakfast of pancakes and water is being served, and my fellow survivors all stand in line with their empty trays waiting for their turn to be served their meager rations. Pancakes are easy to mass produce and require few ingredients, so we eat them a lot. And they’re more filling than stale cereal.

  I get two misshapen pancakes plopped onto my tray, and without butter or syrup to coat them, it’s like chewing on tasteless mush. My fellow survivors look at their own half empty trays, looking as unsatisfied as I feel, but we all know the food stores won’t last forever. Meager shares now are better than full shares for a little bit and then nothing after. We all know the intense sting of starvation.

  If the food runs out, this place won’t last long. The survivors and soldiers won’t be able to keep up their stamina, and then we’ll be overrun in a heartbeat. I can only imagine how much destruction will happen if just one zombie manages to make its way into the school. Just thinking about the potential bloodshed and destruction makes my stomach pinch, and I can feel my appetite failing.

  But this is the end of the world, and I can’t afford to not eat…just in case.

  I take a seat at my usual table, and I’m the first to show up. I eat my first bite of dry pancake and watch as more people filter into the cafeteria. I recognize little Janine, an eight-year-old under the protection of her thirteen-year-old sister Tasha. Both of their parents died in the original wave and they’ve been here since. Behind them is Rachel, a woman that lost her husband and both of her children right before stumbling up to our doors. She watches over the children around her with a well-practiced eye that comes from experienced motherhood.

  The burly soldier that stands behind the counter wears his gun on a belt over his apron, and I almost smile at the sight of the hairnet across his head, keeping his curls bound flat. He tries to be friendly enough to all of the people in line, but many of them shuffle along with blank stares and grumbling stomachs, taking their meager portions without a word.

  The lights above us flicker once, drawing my attention to the ceiling. How long until they go out and don’t come back on? The generator won’t last forever. If we lose our light, we lose our hope.

  “They’ve been doing that a lot lately,” a small voice says at my side. “I hope they stay on because I’m scared of the dark.”

  I glance over at Felicia and offer her my best smile, though it feels hollow and pointless to me. “Don’t worry about it. I’m sure the generators will keep going. Even if they didn’t, there are probably hundreds of old candles stockpiled up just in case. We’ll have some kind of light, Felicia.”

  “Good,” she says, looking down at her pancakes with a grimace. “Because I am not sitting around in the dark and waiting for those things to come and eat my brains.” She shudders at the thought, and another girl gives her an odd look as she sits down across from her.

  “You know they don’t just eat brains,” Rose says, flipping her hair over her shoulder. “They’re not picky eaters like us. Skin, organs, even bone.” Felicia gives a timid little whimper, and I kick Rose under the table. She winces at the pain and glowers at me, but her voice is purposefully light when she speaks again. “I’m sorry, Felicia. I didn’t mean to scare you.”

  Felicia sighs, picking at her next bite of food. “It’s okay, really. I should probably be used to it by now.” It gets quiet at the table for a minute, and I choke down another bite of food. She perks up suddenly, her eyes going wide and a smile on her face. “Hey! Did you guys hear the latest rumor going around? One of the soldiers was saying some of us might be immune to the virus, so even if we got bit, we might not turn! What do you think?”

  “It’s bullshit,” Rose says, scoffing and halting her fork at her lips. “If you get bit, you die. Simple.”

  “You guys, nobody is getting bit. The soldiers are here to protect us. Don’t forget that.”

  Daisy slides into her seat beside Rose—her twin sister. They’re not quite adults yet, and they don’t even look related, let alone like twins. Daisy has short blonde hair and Rose has longer auburn hair that she keeps in a single braid down her back. Where Daisy is more pear-shaped, Rose has begun to fill out into a more womanly figure, despite the low rations. The only feature they share are wide-set blue eyes that have developed a hard edge over the last half a year, and matching upturned noses.

  To think, it’s been little more than six months since the world ceased to exist as we knew it. Nobody ever gave an explanation for the deadly disease that first appeared in Chicago and spread through the nation faster than wildfire. There just hadn’t been time. From the moment the first zombie bit another person, it had taken only weeks for most of civilization to crumble. The dead probably ranged somewhere in the billions at this point, with no end in sight.

  Is it like this overseas? Are we the only ones who are suffering? Or is everything gone? Is it possible there might be a cure someday?

  Even if a cure miraculously gets made, it’s too late. The human race has no chance of survival—not like before. Everything is too far gone. There’s no more science, medicine, military, law, or government. People do as they please if it means their survival, and we’ve lost too much to get it back.

  This world is simply beyond repair.

  Felicia sniffs, and I glance at her mid bite. She’s only fourteen or so, and small for her age. Her hair is short and feathery, and a dark cinnamon color. Her face is still round and slightly babyish, but months of little food and constant fear have given her a gaunt, hallowed look. Her honey-colored eyes are sad, but hopeful. She honestly believes that everything will be okay in the end as long as we keep faith—which she still somehow miraculously has.

  A small, golden cross hangs around her throat on a thin chain, and she tends to play with it.

  I’m not so optimistic. I know that faith isn’t going to keep us alive for long. The only thing we can rely on in this world is ourselves. I can’t depend on anybody else if I’m going to survive long in this new world.

  “Maddie?”

  I realize that Felicia has probably said my name more than once, and I smile apologetically at her. “I’m sorry; I was a million miles away just now.”

  “I was saying, do you think we’ll be safe here until they make a cure?”

  I don’t want to lie to her, but as she looks up at me with those big, hopeful eyes of her, I find it hard to be honest. “I’m sure we will. The fencing around the school keeps the zombies out, and we have soldiers that patrol the perimeter day and night. Nothing will get past them anytime soon.”

  The only real problem is that zombies are instinctively drawn to places with noise—and a safe haven with almost a hundred survivors is like a lighthouse on the shore, luring in ships from sea. I don’t know how long our defenses can truly last, but I won’t dash what little hope others have left.

  “I thought the zombies were supposed to starve to death. How come that hasn’t happened yet?” Daisy asks, chewing a tough bite of pancake. She winces and swallows it down, coughing on ce. “The last time I saw anything on TV, the news lady was saying they should start starving off.”

  Rose snorts. “Oh, please. The government just told the public what it needed to hear. The infection spread too fast for them to learn anything. For all we know, the government created these things to use as weapons or something, and they just got out of hand. We don’t know anything about them except they’re hard to kill, and they like eating people.”

  I glare at her over my tray. “Do you have to be so negative?”

  She glares right back at me, unfazed by my own hostility since she’s every bit the bitch that I can be. “You’re one to talk, Negative Nancy. You’re the one always talking about our inevitable demise,” she says, rolling her eyes.

  I grit my teeth as Felicia’s eyes widen, and I see her lip start to quiver. “With other adults,” I hiss, eyes narrowing. “Not children.” Rose glances at Felicia, and I see her face soften, and she hangs her head in shame. I sigh, setting my fork down, knowing that the damage has already been done. “Felicia, don’t worry about the future, okay? Today you’re safe. Focus on that.”

  Rose looks away, and I shake my head. She just doesn’t understand that with nothing left, those of us that have survived need to band together and look after one another. That includes potentially lying to the kids about our predicament. She doesn’t care about anyone other than herself and her sister. I can’t trust her with anything—especially my life—and there may very well be a time in the future that lets her hold my life in her hands.

  Daisy clears her throat, her face bright as we all shift our attention to her. “I’m on laundry duty today. I like getting to sit and wash clothes and just talk to the other girls. Everyone is so different.” She polishes off her pancakes and chugs the rest of her water, looking at her tray wistfully, like more food might appear if she closes her eyes and wishes hard enough. “Rose, you should come with me. Felicia, too.”

  Felicia looks up at me. “What about you?”

  “I’m heading to the gym for training,” I say, as I wolf down the last few bites of my pancakes. Felicia is quick to gather up her empty tray and follow the two older girls out of the cafeteria, sparing me a quick glance over her shoulder and a little wave before disappearing into the hallway after them.

  My heart squeezes a little as she goes, and I sigh. You can’t afford to get attached to people. She’ll be gone before long. I bring my dirty tray back up to the counter and hand it off to another volunteer, and set my empty water bottle in the bin to be refilled for later. I pass by the tables still full of people with haunted stares and half-empty bellies, and exit the cafeteria without another glance at anyone.

  They don’t mean anything to me. They can’t.

  *****

  The gym is mostly empty today, which is kind of surprising since the self-defense lessons are always wildly popular with many of the survivors. Everyone hopes that the fence will hold indefinitely, but nobody wants to be stranded alone without the ability to take on a few zombies if the worst should happen. These self-defense lessons are a survivor’s best chance of survival in this new world, and few people miss them.

  It helps the teacher is a cutie.

  Specialist Monroe is standing in front of the red, faded bleachers, surveying the small group assembled with his hands behind his back. I do a quick count of my own as I approach, and come up with only twelve. Only twelve out of more than eighty survivors. “It’s not really worth having the lesson if so few of you are really interested in learning,” he says, pinching the bridge of his wide nose with a sigh. “Twelve people.”

  “Thirteen,” I say, sliding onto the front bench next to a girl of no more than ten. She looks at me with wary eyes. “What are we waiting for? Let’s get this party started, Aaron.”

  He sighs again, but nods his head once. “Very well. Let’s get started. Maddie, can you be my helper today? Private Tucker isn’t feeling well, and he won’t be of much help. I need someone that at least knows the basics.”

  I nod my head, giving him a tiny smile, which he slowly returns, his cheeks turning pink as another girl whispers something to the person beside her. I ignore everyone else and take my place next to Aaron, nudging him with my elbow and giving him a quick waggle of my brows.

  He clears his throat, his cheeks turning pinker, and I laugh. My earlier thoughts about not caring for anyone else go out the window, and I know they never included Aaron. He and I have come to depend on each other too much in the last few months, and if there’s one person I know I can trust with my life, it’s Aaron. And he knows the same is true for him.

  Together, we get the recruits up and ready to begin training. We go through a basic takedown that is meant for keeping our hands away from the face—and teeth—of the other person. We demonstrate it a few times, both of us taking turns being the aggressor and the defender so the recruits can see how different it looks based on our height difference.

  Up this close, it’s hard to concentrate on what I’m doing, and instead I find myself focusing on his beautiful blue-gray eyes. His arms are thick with ropey muscle—the kind you get from manual labor and not just being a gym rat. At twenty-four, with his broad nose, strong jaw mottled with stubble, and his dark curls—which are a bit longer than they should be while in the service of the military—Aaron is one of the most attractive men I’ve ever met.

  It’s a shame he’s not into women.

  As I think it, he hooks his arm around my hip and throws me across the wrestling mat. I hit hard and wheeze as the air explodes from my lungs. A few of the onlookers gasp, but the tension is cut when Aaron starts to laugh. “And that’s why you always keep your eye on your partner.” He pairs everyone up and sections them off around the gym, and he and I both move between the partners offering advice or corrections.

  I spend the most time with the two newest to join our safe haven. They’ve only been here a few days, and I haven’t learned their names or their story yet, but I know they came in together. The girl is younger, only eight or nine years old, with black hair and gray eyes that are dull and lifeless, a testament to the fact that she’s survived for so long.

  How many of us look like dead people walking? It’s horribly ironic.

  The boy is older, maybe just into his teens, with the same dark hair and eyes. He watches me warily, as if he doesn’t trust me not to hurt them yet, and I see him move closer to the girl. “What’s your name?” I ask him, my hands on my hips.

  “Levi.” He puffs out his chest a bit, jerking his thumb at the girl. “And this is my cousin, Lucy. When her momma got bit a few days ago, she said I had to look out for Lucy cause she couldn’t do it anymore. We’re all we’ve got left.”

  “Well, this is a good thing to learn if you wanna protect her,” I say, looking around the room. “Specialist Monroe picked this one specifically to keep you safe until help arrives. If you keep them at arm’s length, they can’t bite you. So, show me what you can do.”

  I shuffle towards him with the slow, unsteady gait I’ve seen the dead have, and Levi backs away from me, pulling Lucy behind him for that little bit of added protection. The sight of him readily willing to put himself between his cousin and a zombie is a heart-wrenching one that nearly brings tears to my eyes. So many of us are little more than children—many who will never get the chance to be normal kids again.

  Even if the world can somehow repair itself, the damage is done. Every survivor in this school has seen enough death and destruction to last a lifetime.

  I help Levi and Lucy practice the move a few times, but Aaron calls an end to the lesson all too soon. Levi and Lucy leave the gym holding hands, and Aaron walks over to me as I’m dabbing sweat from my face with an old, stained gym rag. “That went better than I thought it would,” he says, watching the kids, too. “You learned a lot the last few months. When I found you, I didn’t realize there was a soldier in the makings.”

  I elbow him in the ribs and he grunts but doesn’t move. “I had a good teacher. And I’m glad you found me, Aaron. If you hadn’t…I probably would have died for sure. Without my mom…” I pause for a second and my hand clenches at my side as her memory swamps me instantaneously. I take a deep breath. “Without my mom, I’d have been zombie bait in a week tops.”

 

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