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The Zombie Plagues: Doomed
The Zombie Plagues: Doomed
The Zombie Plagues: Doomed
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The Zombie Plagues: Doomed

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Early morning darkness held the road that fronted the cave. The moonlight, sparse, reflected off the rapids of the Black river.
A shadow moved by one of the pickup trucks. Another moved by the Suburban. The sound of sand gritting beneath the sole of a shoe came clearly in the shadowy darkness. The door of the pickup squealed loudly as it was carefully opened. The shadow paused, looking towards the Suburban. The shadow there appeared to be fighting with the door to no avail. The shadow next to the pickup gestured quickly with both hands and the shadow next to the Suburban gave up on the door, crossed to the pickup and quickly climbed inside. Once they were both inside, silence returned to the small patch of asphalt that fronted the cave. A few seconds later the pickup roared to life. The headlights snapped on, the wheels turned hard left and the driver launched the truck down what was left of the shattered roadway.
Voices were raised in alarm from inside the cave and within just a few moments everyone inside was outside. Lydia, gun in hand, unloaded a full clip at the fleeing pickup truck. Both Tom and Mike snapped off a single shot, more in startled response to Lydia’s’ shots than with any real hope of hitting the retreating pickup truck.
“Jesus,” Lydia said breathlessly. “They stole our truck!” She turned and looked at Mike with wide, frightened eyes. “They stole our Goddamn truck,” She repeated. “How could they steal our truck?”
Tom headed for the suburban and pulled the keys from his pocket, preparing to unlock the door.
“Tom,” Mike called. “Where are you going, Man?”
“That’s our Goddamn truck. I’m going to get it.” His eyes were wild, the truck keys in one hand, a pistol in the other, no shirt, sock-less shoes, laces trailing.
“It’s an old truck, Man,” Mike said.
“It’s my old truck,” Tom said defensively. “And if I catch that fucker...”
“Fuckers,” Lydia said.
“Huh?” Tom asked.
“Fuckers, as in I saw two heads. Two of them. Not one,” Lydia said. Her voice held a breathless, excited quality to it that Mike didn’t like. She was dressed in jeans and a thin T-shirt. She shivered slightly, whether from the cold or the excitement, Mike couldn’t tell.
“Either way. One, two, how would we catch them? And then what? Are we going to shoot somebody for stealing an old truck? Is that what things have come to?” Mike asked.
“Look, don’t get moral on me,” Tom said. He leveled his eyes at Mike. “I do things my way. You take from me, you pay for it.”
Mike just stared back at him.
“You’re soft,” Tom said. But his fists, still clenched, dropped from the truck door and he walked away from the Suburban and back into the cave.

LanguageEnglish
PublisherA. L. Norton
Release dateSep 14, 2013
ISBN9781301921751
The Zombie Plagues: Doomed
Author

A. L. Norton

I am an Amazon best selling author of 9 books so far. "My Nightmare in Georgia"; books 1 and 2 were number 1 hot new releases. I write fiction, non fiction, romance, erotica, anything that comes to mind. I am a daydreamer. I always have my head in the clouds. I have a great sense of humor, and I am rarely serious, even in serious situations. I believe if you dream it, you can achieve it. I am a drama queen as well. I hope you enjoy my books as much as I love writing them. You can find my books here on Smashwords, and in print on Amazon. Please take the time and leave a review. Reviews are very important for authors. Also, you can click the favorite button if you would like and subscribe to me! Love to you all! Enjoy!

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    The Zombie Plagues - A. L. Norton

    THE ZOMBIE PLAGUES: DOOMED

    Copyright 2011 Amber Norton all rights reserved.

    Cover Art © Copyright 2011 Dell Sweet

    This book is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This book may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you are reading this book and did not purchase it or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to your bookseller and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

    LEGAL

    This is a work of fiction. Any names, characters, places or incidents depicted are products of the author's imagination. Any resemblance to actual living person’s places, situations or events is purely coincidental.

    No part of this book may be reproduced by any means, electronic, print, scanner or any other means and or distributed without the author's permission. Permission is granted to use short sections of text in reviews or critiques in standard or electronic print.

    Additional Copyrights 2009 – 2018 Wendell Sweet all rights reserved

    This book is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This book may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to your bookseller and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

    TABLE OF CONTENTS

    PROLOGUE

    ONE

    TWO

    THREE

    FOUR

    FIVE

    SIX

    SEVEN

    EIGHT

    PROLOGUE

    March 1st 12:06 am.

    L.A.

    Billy Jingo

    Billy knocked back the tequila and waved off Beth as she motioned to the back bar for another. She came over smiling.

    A man that knows when to quit. I like that, Beth said.

    Billy laughed. A recently acquired habit, I assure you. Shit will bite you if you don't set your limits, He smiled at her; hesitated and then spoke again. So it's almost over for tonight... Thought you would be singing? He raised his voice at the end to make it into a question. He knew it was what she wanted. He had heard her voice, there wasn't an act in the place that could hang with her. She was it; except something wasn't clicking between her and Tommy or maybe it went all the way up the ladder to Junior Vitaglio. Whatever it was Billy was curious about it.

    Curiosity killed the cat, Beth said with a wide smile as if reading his thoughts.

    Damn, Billy said. It's as if...

    I read your thoughts? She laughed. It's been written all over your face since you came in. I saw you looking at the stage; back at me, back to the stage. It's not hard to figure it out.

    Hey, it's not the only place around... Sometimes I think you're too good for...

    If you say it I'll smack you stupid, Beth told him. Her eyes were slitted; narrowed and focused. Her right hand had doubled into a fist. Billy had no doubt she meant what she said.

    Peace, Billy said.

    Not that it really matters, Beth said with a sigh. "Tommy knows and that means Junior knows and they don't care... I thought maybe it was my time on the streets, but that's not it. I'd feel for the lame ass that came in here if I was singing and had anything to say about my time on the streets. He'd find himself bounced fast... No, that isn't it... We've all been there... At least the interesting ones."

    Billy nodded. So what is it?

    Beth shrugged. I don't know, but I'm hoping Junior will be around later on and I...

    Hey, Baby what the fuck with the drink? A big guy, belly straining at the buttons of his shirt. He smiled, but the smile was no more than a rough semblance of a smile.  Billy tried to burn him with his eyes, but Beth reached nearly into his face and said. So you're done here?

    Her eyes said don't; he didn't, but he would have liked to say something to the guy. Instead he nodded a yes and picked up the change she had laid on the bar. She was talking to the fat guy before he got his change in his pocket.

    See that big guy over by the door, she asked nicely.

    Billy watched the fat guy turn to the door and then back to Beth. Yeah? There was a sarcastic edge to his voice that made Billy slow down. He wanted to see the outcome.

    Jon, the big guy on the door had that bouncer sixth sense and looked over at Beth and shrugged as if to ask if there was a problem. She rolled her eyes and Jon left the door and headed for the bar.

    I told you no more, Beth told the guy.

    And I said I don't take no orders from no bitch, The fat guy said. He puffed up, but a line of sweat trickled from under his too black hair; streaking his forehead with whatever he had sprayed on his hair to get the color. He swiped at it angrily and began to bluster a little more when Jon's heavy hand fell on his shoulder.

    And I missed my workout today, Jon told him as he easily spun him around. unless you're it? Jon finished.

    This is a private matter, The fat guy told him, but there was a quiver in his voice that Billy heard clearly.

    "Tried to grab Jill's breast when she went past him. Jill laughed it off, said he'd been a perfect gentleman all the rest of the night. I said cool; a little mess up, he's had too much to drink and so I cut him off."

    Gentleman was a code word for a creep that had been hanging around getting way too friendly with the dancers.

    That so, Jon asked. He had stepped back to give himself some room just in case things took a physical turn.

    The guy noted the movement; set his empty glass on the bar and put his hands in front of him palms up. No interest in trouble at all, he told Jon.

    Jon nodded at the door. Time to go home and sleep it off I think, Jon told him.

    Billy watched the guy walk to the door and leave. He looked back to see Jon and Beth looking at him.

    You know, this guy is becoming a pain in the ass, Beth told Jon.

    Ha, ha, Billy said.

    Beat it, Jingo. Leave the honey alone. It's off limits. In other words you ain't getting none of it. Billy watched a cloud come over Beth just that fast. She had been teasing, Jon probably knew that, but Jon had a thing for her and he hated Billy who sometimes did small things for Junior. He didn't wait for Billy to leave, but headed back to the door; opened it quickly and looked out into the lot.

    Probably making sure the guy ain't fucking up his car, Billy said under his breath.

    Sorry, Billy. I keep forgetting Jon isn't human, Beth told him. That made Billy laugh.

    Anyway I'll see you around. I'll be late tonight.

    Billy nodded. Good luck, Beth. He turned and walked to the door at the other end of the club. The one that let out onto the front sidewalk.

    ~

    The night was beautiful Billy thought as he walked along Beechwood Avenue. He knew pretty much everyone he passed. He had been here for a little over six months after making his way up from Mexico when things had gone bad for him there. Technically he was on the run. Warrants out of New York. Somebody had put two and two together and dug up some prints from a crime Billy had been involved with. He had only found out about it because he had happened to be away from the house when the Feds showed up. His neck of the woods had no municipal police, but even if it had they wouldn't have come with shotguns and armor.

    He had hid out for three days until the word had trickled down to him that it was him they were looking for to hand over to some federal agents from the U.S. It hadn't taken much to put two and two together. He had managed to get a beat up old pickup truck and then he filled a fifty five gallon drum full of gasoline that was strapped into the bed of the truck: He set off into the desert.

    The rest had been easier. Despite the laws and the changes in the U.S. it was pretty easy to disappear here. He had come with a little money and that had helped. He had worked a series of meaningless jobs as he worked his way up the west coast thinking Alaska looked pretty good for an end destination, but L.A. had looked better and so it had held him; that and he had met Beth.

    Beth had been working the streets, but she was out of reach and he knew it. Even so, that didn't stop the fact that he wanted her to be in reach. He had never met a woman like her. So he had stayed.  He had seen something in her. Something hard; some will he himself had that was hard to define, but that hardness in her pulled him to her like a magnet. It was that simple.

    He had been working for Junior by then and so he had mentioned Beth to him. He didn't know how the details had worked out, but a few weeks later when he had noticed she had disappeared from the avenue he had found her working at Junior's Palace.

    As he walked he became immune to the world around him. He never heard Jon until he was on him; had spun him around and dragged him into an alley.

    "Hey... Hey! Jon... What the fuck, Jon... Hey!" but it did no good. The first punch nearly shut him down. The second did. The rest he never knew about.

    L.A.: 2:00 am.

    Beth

    The night wore on. The morning came and went and the club shut down for another day. Beth worked at cleaning up the last little area of the bar as two of the dancers finished their drinks and hushed conversations; smiled at her and walked away. A short conversation with Jon, he had probably made some crude remark; Beth had seen how both of them had instantly stiffened their backs after he spoke. It wasn't just her, Jon was an actual creep. Whatever he had said the two girls chose to ignore it, turning away; making eye contact with Beth and waving as if they had been at the bar talking to her; when Jon looked back to see who they had been waving at they slipped out the door. Jon made his way over to the bar.

    You scared my honeys away, he told her.

    I think you can do that all on your own, Beth told him.

    What's that supposed to mean? Jon asked.

    Beth frowned and shook her head. Sometimes she wondered if Jon even knew what a creep he was. How he made the girls who worked here; her included feel. It means that not everyone is always on the same page, Beth said. She had changed her mind at the last second. She had to work here. Jon was the nephew of the owner. Creep or not he was part of the package.

    Jon looked confused.

    Jon, Jon it means that sometimes you just have to let things happen. Go slow. A girl wants to think it was her own idea to like you, she told him.

    Yeah... I can see that, but when you need it you need it. Some of these bitches need to be on point. One finger disappeared into his nose and then he seemed to suddenly remember she was there. You know me and you need to hook up. I got ... One massive hand settled onto his shoulder and he stopped in mid sentence.

    Disappear, Jon, Jon. I need to talk to Beth right now, Tommy told him as he sat down on one of the stools.

    'We was just talking, uncle Tommy."

    Right and now you're done talking... Unless you're not? Am I interrupting you?

    Jon turned beet red. He laughed to hide the embarrassment. No... No, he turned and walked away.

    Tommy turned to Beth. "I guess you'll have to get used to the kid. He's a pain in the ass, but he's my pain in the ass... Load to bear, He turned and watched Jon step out the door to the parking lot. Jon, Jon, Tommy yelled. Jon poked his head back in the door and looked at his uncle. Take a good look around out there; make sure the lot's empty and the girls all got to their cars okay."

    Okay, uncle Tommy, Jon called back. The dopey smile that he usually wore settled back on his face as he stepped out into the darkness. Tommy turned back to Beth.

    'Billy Jingo," he said.

    Beth looked at him.

    I think that kid is bad news for you... Not telling you how you should live your life, just distributing advice... A girl like you; a feature act don't need a distraction like that. The customers don't want to see no boyfriend hanging around. Spoils the fantasy. He held her stare.

    It's not like that, Tommy. Billy is a friend only... Lives in the same building." She had caught the fact that he had said she was an act. Something she wasn't yet, unless...

    Uh huh, but he wants you. The kid is like a love sick puppy. If you could step back and look at it you would see it clearly. Are you telling me you are smart enough to handle Jon, Jon and yet you can't see this Jingo kid has it bad for you?

    Beth shrugged. No... I know... I know that, but he knows it isn't going to happen. He knows what the deal is.

    Good... That's all I'm saying, but you need to tell him to stay away... Can't be hanging around while you're working... See?

    Beth nodded. I see.

    Good, cause next week you start as a main act... An hour; twice a night... I'll tell you what to play... Sing, but you can mix some of your own stuff in too. I know you'll do good... He stopped as Beth lunged across the bar and hugged him; squealing as she did. He hugged her back, laughing.

    She kissed his cheek and then her smile went away a little as one of his hands cupped the side of her breast. Her eyes focused on his. I think we'll become good friends, baby, he told her. She nodded as his hand roamed a little further and then trailed away across the flat plains of her stomach. She pulled back. Tommy wore a crooked smile on his face. So we understand each other?

    Yeah, Beth told him.

    So smile then. Let's have a drink... On me... Pour us something good, baby, Tommy told her.

    3:00 am

    Beth smoothed her skirt flat as she stepped out into the darkness of the parking lot. She had spent over a month trying to convince Tommy to let her perform. The club did a lot of Hollywood business... Agents... They were Tommie's friends. She had gotten her wish and more than she had bargained for; a relationship with Tommy. She wasn't sure how that was going to be defined in public, but in private it was going to be defined as a sexual relationship. He had just defined it for her, she would have to wait to see what the public definition was going to be, but she had a good idea how it was going to be.

    Nan; the dancer Tommy was currently seeing was going to be upset. Tommy was not subtle. It had been clear that they had been seeing less and less of each other. She had no doubt that her first night of performing he was going to make it clear she was his. Like a dog marking his territory. She sighed; off the street, but still getting fucked for money. She hated putting it that starkly in her head, but that was the plain truth. She was still selling it; just different terms, better money, better protection. She heard footsteps running behind her and her breath caught in her throat. She turned as the club door that exited to the parking lot banged shut.

    Beth, Jon yelled. Beth.

    She stopped and waited.

    Uncle Tommy said I should drive you home... He don't want you walking.

    She sighed. She had half expected it. Jon ran the twenty feet from the door to where she was. She changed direction and walked slowly toward Jon's car. Well, she thought, at least there would be no more bullshit from Jon.

    Willie

    Twenty feet away from Junior's Palace on Beechwood Avenue, the prostitutes were just beginning to show up in force, waiting for the early morning traffic. Willie LeFray sat with his back against the wall of an alley: A needle ready and a speedball cooking over a tin of shoe polish. There was a bum sleeping a little further down the alley. Willie ignored him; watching the mixture in the blackened spoon begin to bubble, melting together.

    Two days before he had been sitting in a diner off 4th Avenue South waiting for his world to end. He had paid for the bottomless cup of coffee the place advertised, but ten cups had done nothing to improve his situation. He was still sick. He was still broke and he needed something to take the edge off the real world; which had been sucking pretty hard at that time. A trucker had come in and ate his dinner just two stools away from Willie, but every time he had worked up the courage to ask him for a couple of bucks the guy had stared him down so hard that he had changed his mind.

    He had just made up his mind to leave. Even the waitress was staring hard every time he asked for more coffee: The cops couldn't be far away; when the trucker had reached back for his wallet, pulled it free and took a ten from inside and dropped it on the counter top.

    Willie watched. It was involuntary. One of those things you did when your head was full of sickness and static. Just a place for your ever moving eyes to fall. The wallet was one of those types he had seen bikers use. A long chain connecting it to the wide leather belt he wore. Hard to steal. Hard to even get a chance at. The man stuffed the wallet back into his pocket. Sloppy, Willie saw, probably because he knew the chain was there and so if it did fall out he would know it. He turned and put his ass nearly in Willie's face as he got up from the stool. The wallet was right there. Two inches from his nose, bulging from the pocket. The leather where the steel eye slipped through to hold the chain frayed, ripped, barely connected. The man straightened and the wallet slipped free. The chain caught on the pocket, slipped down inside and the wallet came free, the leather holding the steel eye parted like butter and the wallet fell into Willie's lap. He nearly called out to the man before he could shut his mouth. His hand closed over the wallet and slipped it under his tattered windbreaker. The waitress spoke in his ear a second later.

    Listen... Buy something else of get the fuck out. You hear me? Otherwise my boss, she turned and waved one fat hand at the serve through window, Says to call the cops.

    Willie stared at her in disbelief. He was sure that everyone in the diner had seen the wallet fall into his lap. He swallowed. Yeah... Okay... I'm leaving, he said with his croaky voice. Sometimes; getting high he didn't speak for weeks. It just wasn't necessary. When he did he would find his voice rusty; his throat croaking out words like a frog. Sometimes he was right on the edge of not even being able to understand the words. Like they had suddenly become some foreign language. He cleared his throat, picked up the cup of cold coffee and drained it. Going, he said.

    He got up from the stool; kept one hand in his pocket holding the wallet under the windbreaker and walked out the front door.

    New York

    12:30 am

    Carl Evans watched from the mouth of a dark alley. It was one of the things he loved about this place. You could hang out in an alley; smoke cigarettes all day and night long if you wanted to and nobody said a word to you. Where else but New York could that be true he asked himself.

    He leaned back against the wall; one sneakered foot propped on the brick behind him to hold him the other flat on the cobbled stones of the alley. Another thing about New York he thought as he inhaled deeply of his cigarette and then let the smoke roll slowly out of his mouth: Old things everywhere you looked. These cobblestones for instance. He wondered how old they truly were.

    Young man. The deep voice startled him from his thoughts. He lifted his head to see an old, gray haired gentleman standing at the mouth of the alley a few feet away. His face was creased and seamed. His skin so dark it was nearly blue. A cane in one hand supported his weight.

    What's up, Pops? Carl asked politely.

    The man placed his second hand on his cane and leaned forward. That cigarette will kill you.

    Pops...

    He held up one hand as Carl began to speak. "Just telling you. Don't need an argument. It will kill you. The big tobacco's they knew about it back in the day when I was a boy chasing that habit. And they knew about it when it was in commercials in magazines and T.V. and what not. That cowboy died from it you know, they knew it and they still know it. It will kill you. In case you didn't know it I wanted you to know it." He straightened his back; lifted the second hand, nodded once and moved across the mouth of the alley disappearing as though from some sort of magic.

    Carl chuckled; lifted the cigarette to his mouth, took a deep drag and then found himself blowing the smoke out, dropping the cigarette and crushing it. The old man had ruined it for him. He hadn't smoked in ten years, but it tasted as good now as it had then. And he had figured with the way things were nobody had much time. Certainly not enough time to die from cancer or some other nasty surprise from cigarettes, but just the same the old man had ruined it for him.

    He looked down at the blackened mess he had made as he ground the cigarette into the cobbles. Just as well he told himself; it was time. He reached into his coat pocket and pulled out a small silver canister. He inhaled a sharp breath involuntarily. He knew what it was. Knew what he was doing, but he still couldn't believe he was actually going to do it.

    He fingered the small red button on the top of the silver canister, hesitated and then pushed it down. Something inside clicked. There was no other sound in the stillness. He tossed it down the alley; turned and walked out to the sidewalk.

    L.A.: 6:00 P.M.

    Willie LeFray sat slumped against a wall in another alley off Beechwood Avenue; Seattle's red light district. He had been dead for over six hours. The money from the wallet had allowed him to indulge in his habit for over forty-six hours with no sleep. The last injection had killed him.

    The Cocaine he had purchased to mix with the Heroin had been cut with rat poison, among other things, so that the kid who had sold it to him could stretch it a little further.

    The constant hours of indulging in his habit would have killed him anyway, but the addition of the rat poison was all his overworked heart could stand and it had simply stopped beating in protest.

    The alleyway seemed to dip and then rise sharply as a sudden, strong vibration shook the area. The shaking lasted for mere seconds. Dust raftered down from the sky, shaken from buildings. In the silence alarms brayed and glass shattered, falling to the streets below. Gunshots punctuated the silences in between the screams, yelling.

    Billy Jingo found himself rolling across the alley and nearly slamming into the opposite wall. He held himself steady, fingertips outstretched, until the shaking stopped: Unsure where he was or why he was there.

    As his mind began to awake he remembered Jon punching him earlier. Nothing specific besides that, but it was enough to draw some conclusions as to where he was. It didn't explain the shaking that had awakened him. He looked off down the alley where a bum or maybe a hype was resting against the wall, slumped over. Maybe, Billy thought, the bum had tried to awaken him. He made his feet and staggered past the bum to the mouth of the alley, looking out at the street. The bum was still sleeping when he looked back. The more he looked at the bum the more he thought he might be a crack head, maybe even a heroin addict. Those fuckers could crash out anywhere, oblivious to their surroundings, he reminded himself. He stepped onto the sidewalk and then glanced back once more, wondering if he should repay the favor and wake up the now sleeping bum, hype, whatever he was.

    No, he decided. He focused his eyes, stretched his arms and legs, flexed his fingers and decided he was pretty much okay. As he started back down the street, he suddenly found himself thrown to the sidewalk as the earth began to shake and heave violently once more.

    Behind him the street began to shake harder, cracks appeared in the alleyway where Willie's body lay and threaded their way out into the street. Far off in the distance the earthquake shook harder at the epicenter, small booms coming over the sound of destruction as the time wore on. Nearby a building succumbed to the vibration and toppled over into the street clogging it from side to side. Cars rocked on their tires shifting violently from side to side, sometimes bouncing off in one direction or another or slamming into a nearby car or building.

    This time when the silence came the sounds that it carried were different. Weeping from the piled remains in the street. The zap and crackle of power lines as they danced in the street like charmed snakes without their handlers.

    A harder jolt hit and the cracks opened wider, some swallowing whole sections of rubble as they did. Willie's body slumped over and then tumbled into a chasm that had opened next to him. Almost as quickly the chasm closed as though it had never really been there at all. The shaking slowed and then stopped and the silence fell once more.

    Billy managed to get to his feet, staggering at first, pulling deep lungfuls of air, but getting his feet under him. Blood ran into his eye from a cut on his forehead, but he was otherwise okay. He waited for his panic to abate; his breathing to slow and then he moved off at a fast run along the Avenue: Heading for home.

    At the

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