The Seething: a Zombie Chronicle

THE SEETHING: A ZOMBIE CHRONICLE

By J.A. Johnson & K.G. McAbee

Work copyright © J.A. Johnson & K.G. McAbee 2014

Cover art copyright © J.A. Johnson 2014

Smashwords Edition

Smashwords Edition, License Notes

Thank you for downloading this ebook. This work is the property of the author, and may not be reproduced, copied, and/or distributed for commercial or non-commercial purposes. If you enjoyed this book, please encourage your friends to get their own copy at Smashwords.com, where they can also discover other works by K.G. McAbee. Thank you for your support

Notes from the authors:

Thank you for reading our story. We'd appreciate it if you'd take a moment to write a review at Smashwords and share your thoughts on our work. Feedback is always great, and we love hearing from our readers. Thanks! JAJ & KGM

Other works by J.A. Johnson & K.G. McAbee at Smashwords:

Tezek: Prince of Three Lands

Omega Station: The Omnibus

GET THE SOUNDTRACK ALBUM FOR FREE!

This book was inspired by The Reginald Pantry, a soundtrack to an imaginary zombie movie by the indie rock band, The Gifted Children. We encourage the reader to go to their website and get the album so that you can listen as you read for a maximized experience. You can find it at…http://thegiftedchildren.com scroll down to, the Reginald panty lp [2009] (experimental instrumental album) to download your FREE copy.

Credits

Chapter One ~ J.A. Johnson

Chapter Two ~ J.A. Johnson

Chapter Three ~ K.G. McAbee

Chapter Four ~ K.G. McAbee

Chapter Five ~ J.A. Johnson

Chapter Six ~ J.A. Johnson

Chapter Seven ~ K.G. McAbee

Chapter Eight ~ K.G. McAbee

Chapter Nine ~ K.G. McAbee

Chapter Ten ~ J.A. Johnson

Chapter Eleven ~ J.A. Johnson

Chapter Twelve ~ J.A. Johnson

Chapter Thirteen ~ K.G. McAbee

Chapter Fourteen ~ K.G. McAbee

Deleted Scenes and Alternate Ending

Prologue ~ J.A. Johnson

Eddie ~ J.A. Johnson

Rascal ~ K. G. McAbee

Alternate Ending ~ J.A. Johnson

The Seething: A Zombie Chronicle was written entirely on location in 'The Box', Gaffney, S.C. and 'The Haunted House', Pacolet, S.C.

No living, dead, or undead human or animal was harmed during the production of this book.

PROLOGUE

Jack would have been perfectly happy if he never had to step foot in town, any town, ever again. They were deathtraps in this new age; domains of the dead, the dying and…the undead.

The living had no business setting foot there. Ever, he thought as he studied the stretch of Main Street that divided the downtown businesses.

But the truth was that people did have to return to such places.

Jack had worked hard in the early days, had stockpiled as much as he could when the world went to hell. All he could, but not all he needed. Now he could only hope to find what was necessary.

That's what had brought him back to town. Hope.

Hope that somewhere, someone had left behind some medicine.

Hope for little Samantha. How insane was it that something as small and seemingly trivial as a mosquito could be as deadly as a seether? Maybe even worse since, unlike the undead, a mosquito could bite you before you even knew it was there.

The connection between the two had been known from the earliest days. The insects spread the virus, causing the initial seether outbreak. After that, people had to fear both living insect and the ravenous, dead human.

The town was blanketed in an eerie languor. It echoed with phantoms of previously unappreciated happiness, of shoppers and shop owners, of skateboarding teens and women pushing babies in strollers.

Cars were still in evidence here and there, abandoned beneath thickening layers of grime and rust. Their lonely hulks put Jack in mind of the fabled graveyard of elephants. One day, if he was lucky, truly lucky, his own bones would lie somewhere bleaching in the sun.

He readjusted the straps of his backpack and crept to the side wall of Foster's Hardware, the first building on the main drag. He checked behind him before peering around the corner. It was so quiet. If there were seethers about he could neither see their decaying, shambling forms, nor smell their putrefying flesh.

He felt optimistic for the first time since leaving home just after sunrise.

He studied the ghost town thoroughfare.

Across the way, Nelson's Pharmacy awaited him with utter indifference.

All you have to do is cross the street, he thought. Yet, he was apprehensive, like hesitating to jump into a swimming pool because you tested the water and found it to be too cool.

Jump in, he told himself. Samantha is sick, weakened. Weakness is vulnerability. Every minute counts. She needs that medicine.

Jack cast one last look in all directions. As far as he could tell, he was alone. He took a deep breath and dashed out into the street, running at an angle toward the drugstore's dark windows and gaping door.

As he reached the road's faded yellow divider line, Jack stopped dead in his tracks as if he had run smack into an invisible wall.

But it was no physical barrier that halted him. It was the wind; a malodorous breeze that cut through his sinuses like a lobotomist's pick, wrenching a gag from the pit of his stomach, dragging up through his throat, and dividing his desires between entering the pharmacy…

…and simply running for his life.

He looked left down the street. Three blocks away, four seethers were trickling from the mouth of an alley, like the last dribbles of a binge drinker's spew. Jack saw them.

But what was worse: they saw him.

Their reaction was instant and extreme. They roared as one and began rushing toward him with alarming speed. What had been a trickle moments before became a tide. Roused to the presence of living flesh, the seethers gushed forth in a veritable tide; four followed by six, six followed by ten.

There was no time to run for it now that he had been spotted. He had to find a secure hiding place, fast! He reached the pharmacy door only to find it locked! How had that happened? Someone had been here since his last visit!

Hoping that the door was just jammed, Jack rattled with all his strength. It was definitely locked!

Shit!

He turned and raced away from the onrushing dead. He had to have the medicine. Samantha needed the medicine! He had to get into the drug store. He ducked down the next alley. He would try the backdoor.

The sound of the undead on his heels filled the alley behind him like an echoing wave.

They were gaining on him.

He exited the alley at a blind run, slipped and fell as he tried to make the turn around the corner, almost running into the high wooden fence that separated the back alley from the forested countryside beyond. He scrabbled madly to his feet, saw both the pharmacy's backdoor and just beyond it… more seethers!

Shit!

He choked on his own panic and fury when he found the back door locked as well.

Shit!

An old wooden pallet lay propped against the wall. He kicked it over and then stomped on the boards until one came loose. He snatched it up to use as a weapon as the seethers closed in on him from both sides.

God, he prayed. I don't know if You're up there. I don't know why You let this happen, but if You're gonna screw me over like this, then my family's safety is in Your hands now, You bastard.

He swung the board like a baseball bat and split open the face of the first seether to reach him. He landed a crushing blow against the neck of the next. He jammed the end of the board squarely into the face of a third.

But it was futile. Unless he could destroy their brains, or sever their spinal cords, he was only irritating them. Whatever hope he had harbored upon entering town wholly abandoned him.

Suddenly, gunshots thundered from behind the horde of walking carcasses to his right. Seethers began to drop where they stood until the shooter stood visible in the gap.

It was a cop! Jack's heart leapt! He was about to speak when he saw the look of