Love, Revenge and Zombies Read online

  Love, Revenge

  & Zombies

  Travis W. Cotter

  Copyright © 2013 Travis W. Cotter

  All rights reserved

  DEDICATION

  To my boys Ethan, Dylan and Jakob.

  Daddy loves you more than you’ll ever know.

  ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

  God is good.

  Thanks to my Mom for having my back since day one.

  To my Dad who left the world too soon, you’ll always be a hero to me.

  Thanks to all my family and friends that have supported me and been there for me throughout this long journey.

  None of this would be possible without the amazing people in my life.

  I could never express how grateful I am and how much everyone means to me.

  From the bottom of my heart, Thank you.

  One

  Sometimes all you can do is start over; sometimes life doesn’t give you any other choice. The world is a different place now, a place full of death and destruction. There’s no way of knowing how many people are still out there alive and how long they’ll stay that way. There are still plenty of people roaming the streets but they’re not exactly alive.

  He stands in the center of an intersection of what used to be a busy city street. At one time there were people coming and going through the street lights, on their way to work or making their way home after a long day.

  Everyday people would travel up and down these streets, worrying about things that seemed important at the time. Worried about traffic, if they were going to be late for some appointment that seemed important or just wondering where to go for lunch. Now all that everyday life seems so trivial in comparison to the nightmare that has now engulfed everyday life.

  Before the world went to hell this was the center of town also known as 3rd and Main St, a place where people would go to walk up and down the road to enjoy all the shops and stores that gave the city the small town feel. There was a bakery on the North West corner and across from it was a little bookstore.

  In a city of almost one million people it was still a nice place to live, with old buildings and a friendly vibe in the air. Now the city has an uninviting vibe and death is the only thing in the air. Most of the buildings are still standing but it looks more like a war zone than a row of shops.

  The rain starts to fall on Paul at a steady pace, making it harder to see but all he thinks about is killing the dead. Maybe the rain is God trying to wash all this death away and cleanse the world of all this evil. Then again, maybe it’s just rain. After everything Paul has been through it’s hard to believe in God.

  I guess all the death and fear starts to weigh on a person when life has become only about survival and preventing the inevitable for as long as possible. That inevitable is the death of every living person in the world and a world filled only with the dead. As long as Paul is alive then there’s still at least one living person in the world. He’s made it longer than most people and he would have liked to have kept going but in this world it seems that the living no longer have a place. This world now belongs to the dead who have overrun and devoured the life that use to be here.

  Paul won’t give up; he’ll keep fighting until he has no other choice but to stop. He keeps firing his guns over and over again, a never ending barrage of bullets that holds back the undead for now. Dropping one zombie after another, making every bullet count as he puts bullet after bullet through the skull of every zombie that comes his way. Sending brain matter and skull fragments exploding through the air. The bullets are going fast and very soon he’ll fire off his last round.

  The sun is beginning to sink behind the horizon; soon the world will be in complete darkness and it’ll be just Paul and the undead doing battle in the dark. The power has been out everywhere for a few weeks now. There will be no street lights to show him the way tonight, no neon signs or porch lights turning on to light the night, just darkness and death. There’s one advantage to the dark, in the dark he can’t see how many are still coming. He can deal with only those directly around him and not see the rest that will soon take the fallen ones places.

  Off in the distance he hears something, it sounds like a car coming his way. It’s hard to tell with all the moans of the dead but just out there a little ways he can hear it. Then he sees the headlights coming over the horizon barreling down the road, plowing through the dead coming his way. Maybe he won’t die tonight, maybe he has a chance to survive and live to fight another day. If he can only keep going for a few more minutes, give the car a chance to reach him.

  As he fires off his last bullet and watches it pierce the skull of a young lady, who when she was living was probably only in her teens. With that last bullet Paul felt his heart sink and what little hope he had was fading. The car is still a few minutes away and he’s not sure if it’ll reach him but he has to keep fighting.

  He pulls a machete out from behind his back and begins driving it into the heads of the undead. Swinging in every direction like a man possessed, he feels a rush of what almost feels like joy. Watching his blade destroy the dead with every swing, the sweet sound of bone smashing is like a drug. Filling him with a strength and determination he’s never felt before, he’ll kill all of them one by one with only a blade if he has to. It doesn’t matter how they die just as long as they’re all destroyed and they stay dead this time.

  He’s a man with the will to live giving it everything he has to survive. To have his justice for the pain and heartache these undead bastards have caused him. Revenge is what this is all about and even if it kills him he won’t stop until he has that revenge on as many zombies as possible.

  Just another minute or two and the car will be here to pull him out of this horde; there’s still a chance to be saved. He keeps fighting, he can’t give up now that salvation is so close, he won’t give up. The headlights are getting closer every second. Just a few more moments and the car will be here. He has to hold on; he knows he can do it. With all the recent practice he has become a killing machine.

  It all started only a few weeks ago but after everything that’s gone on it feels like a lifetime ago. Before anyone realized what was happening the world ended.

  Two

  Two months earlier…..

  Paul stands at the cash register of a small liquor store, a bottle of Jack Daniels in his hand. There’s nothing special about the liquor store. It’s a small building crammed in-between a string of run down motels. Its run and owned by a middle aged man in his late 40s, he is second generation Korean American.

  The clerk has become use to Paul’s regular visits to the liquor store. This is Paul’s third trip to the liquor store today. He is in there three or four times a day now, the clerk tries yet again to get to know Paul and find out what his story is but yet again he is met with only silence.

  Paul is a good looking man with a tall 6’2” muscular body, his brown hair cut short in to a flat top. He has brown eyes that look gentle and soft but if you look closer you can almost see the sadness in them. It’s this same sadness that makes the clerk want to get to know Paul. How is it that a man so young can have so much pain in his eyes? The clerk continues to ask random questions just hoping for some kind of response but Paul gives him nothing. The only thing Paul wants is to pay for his bottle and make his way home. The clerk finally gives up and rings up the bottle; Paul pays him and makes his way out of the store.

  He pulls up the collar of his jacket as he walks out the door.

  “Why is it whenever things are bad it always seems to rain,” he says to himself.

  It’s not really a heavy rain but it’s enough to make the short walk home a little more depressing.

  The bottle of Jack feels
heavy in his hand, so he decides to lighten it a little bit. He stops and stands in the rain, twists the top off his bottle and takes a big swig. The whiskey goes down warm and with a kick but the warmth and the kick is what he looks forward to. It’s good to feel something, even if it’s the burn of whiskey. It’s been so long since he felt anything, over the past few years he has become numb to the world. Now the only thing he looks forward to is the next drink. He keeps telling himself if he drinks enough maybe he can forget what made him drink in the first place.

  The rain begins to fall harder and Paul was so lost in thought and lost in the bottle that for a second he forgot about the rain. He looks up at the sky and the rain pouring down his face brings him back to reality. One more swig of the bottle and he puts the cap back on. Now the rain falls even harder and Paul figures he should get back home before it gets any worse. It’s like the sky is determined to pour down on him as much as possible before he makes it home.

  The street lights are beginning to come on as he walks down the sidewalk. There’s only a little bit of sunlight left in the sky. This part of town isn’t the kind of place you want to be roaming around at night. Lucky for him it’s only a few more yards until he’s home.

  It’s not really much of a home but it’s a room with a bed and a shower so it’s good enough for now. He can see the neon sign flashing up ahead; it’s a run down place called “The Last Stop Motel.” The light from the sign is almost inviting but as soon as you see the rest of the place it’s not so inviting. The motel is in desperate need of a paint job and a couple of the rooms have boards up where windows use to be. If you look close enough you can even make out patched over holes on the outside walls of the rooms where bullets have gone through. The motels definitely not the best place to stay, but it’s cheap and they don’t ask many questions so it’ll work for now.

  Paul steps off the sidewalk and heads towards the motel. As he makes his way past the office he can see the manager sitting behind the desk watching something on the television.

  The manager is a short older gentleman with a large gut. He doesn’t have much hair on his head but the hair that he lacks on his head he makes up for with his long bushy beard.

  Paul has been staying at this motel for a week now and still hasn’t bothered to find out the managers name. The more he thinks about it the more he realizes that he really doesn’t care to learn his name. That may make Paul sound like a jerk but he’s just found that it’s easier to be alone. If he doesn’t let people in then there’s no one to let down and there’s no one he can hurt.

  Without realizing it Paul has been standing in front of the office window staring at the manager for almost a full minute. He’s lost in a world of memory and mistakes from days gone bye.

  The manager is now staring back and gives Paul a little wave which brings Paul back from his trip down memory lane. He doesn’t say anything or even bother to wave back to the manager, he just turns and walks away.

  He makes his way towards his room and he can hear some people a few rooms down arguing. He hears what sounds like a slap come from the room and starts making his way towards the room. The closer he gets the louder the fighting gets and now Paul can hear a woman crying and a man yelling. Paul knocks on the door and the arguing continues so he knocks louder.

  “Who the hell is it?” says a male voice from inside the room.

  “It’s your neighbor from room 28; can I talk to you for a minute?” Paul says calmly through the door.

  “Go the hell away and mind your own business,” the male voice yells back at Paul.

  Paul remains calm and collected “I don’t care what’s happening in there, I just wanted to know if I could buy a smoke off of you?”

  Paul didn’t actually smoke; he just wanted a chance to figure out what was going on in that room.

  There was no response to Paul’s request right away but then he could hear footsteps slowly heading towards the door. As the footsteps approached Paul bent down and set his bottle of whiskey against the wall next to the door.

  The door slowly began to open; the security chain was still hooked on the inside of the door so it only opened a few inches. There was a young man in his early twenties staring at Paul through the crack in the door. The young man looked like someone you would see in a heavy metal video, long hair and all.

  “How you doing, my names Paul,” Paul says as he puts his hand out to shake hands.

  “I’m Jerry, good to meet you,” Jerry responds as he shakes hands with Paul through the small gap in the door.

  “How much do you want for a couple smokes?” Paul asked him.

  Paul is trying to buy some time and figure out the state of the woman he heard crying in the room. Jerry turns and walks out of view to go get his cigarettes and it’s then that Paul spots a young lady sitting at a small table across the room. He can tell she has been crying hard and he can see a small welt forming under her left eye. She makes eye contact with Paul and then looks away quickly. She does her best to hide her face now that she knows Paul is looking at her.

  Jerry walks back up to door with his smokes in hand.

  “I’ll give you four smokes for two bucks,” Jerry said.

  Paul did everything he could to keep his cool and not let his anger come through in his voice.

  “How’s your girl doing? Did she fall down or something?” Paul asked calmly.

  “Don’t worry about my girl, do you want the smokes or not?” Jerry said with anger in his voice.

  Without even thinking about it Paul kicks in the door, as the door flies open it smashes into Jerry’s face and knocks him to the floor. Paul steps into the room as Jerry slowly gets his bearings and starts crawling towards the bed.

  Paul walks over to the young lady who is now hiding in the bathroom. She looks terrified and starts crying as Paul walks towards her.

  “I promise I’m not going to hurt you, I just want to make sure you’re alright,” Paul said as gently as he could.

  He puts his hand out but she refuses to take it and then he hears footsteps walking up behind him.

  “Now you’re screwed! I told you to mind your own business and now you kick in my door and BREAK MY NOSE!” Jerry screams at Paul as blood pours down his face.

  Paul hears what he knows to be the sound of a slide on a gun being pulled back, coming from behind him. Paul spins around and in one quick motion knocks the gun out of Jerry’s hand and feels Jerry’s already broken nose flatten under his fist. Paul gives Jerry one more hard punch across the side of his face.

  In only a matter of seconds Jerry is laid out unconscious on the floor with blood pouring out of what use to be his nose.

  The young girl runs past Paul and drops to her knees next to Jerry.

  With tears still running down her face she looks back at Paul and says “I think you killed him!”

  Paul looks into her eyes and in his same calm voice as when he spoke to her before says “don’t worry he’s still breathing.”

  The girl looked back down at Jerry and as she watched his chest rise and fall Paul walked past her and headed towards the door.

  “Thank you, he wouldn’t let me leave,” she said to Paul as she got up and started getting her clothes together.

  As he left the room he saw her franticly stuffing clothes into a suitcase sitting at the foot of the bed.

  He picked up his bottle of whiskey, took the cap off and just before he took a swig he whispered to himself “you’re welcome.”

  The manager was making his way across the parking lot towards Paul.

  “What the hell happened?” he asked Paul.

  Paul reached into his pocket and pulled out a hundred dollar bill and said “sorry about the door.”

  The manager took the hundred and Paul turned and walked to room 28. He fished his keys out of his pocket and slid them in the lock, by now the manager was helping the young girl load her suitcase into the trunk of her car. Apparently the manager was catching on to what had happen after seei
ng Jerry still laying on the floor and the girl trying to get her stuff in her car.

  Paul turned to sees the manager smiling at him and chuckling and for the first time in a long time Paul cracked a little smile. He unlocked the door and stepped into his room. As he closed the door behind him he hears the young lady’s car door shut and her engine roar to life.

  A few seconds later he could hear the car driving away and finally he was back to being alone with his bottle, just the way he liked it.

  Three

  Paul reaches over to find the light switch on the wall next to the door. He flips the switch up and the room is instantly flooded with light. There’s a single bulb hanging from the ceiling in the center of the room.

  A room is all it really is, a room with a bathroom attached. The room also includes what is supposed to be a kitchen but is little more than a sink and a hot plate. There is a small cupboard above the sink with only enough room for a few dishes and maybe a few canned goods. It’s not much of a kitchen but it gets the job done.

  Next to the sink is a doorway that leads into the small bathroom. The bathroom contains a toilet, a sink and a single person shower with a faded blue shower curtain. The shower curtain looks as if it’s been hanging in the shower for at least the last decade. The entire bathroom is no wider than Paul’s arm span and probably only longer than twice that, it feels just as cramped as it looks.

  Off to the left of the door is a small round wooden table about four feet tall, there are two chairs, the chairs don’t actually match but it’s somewhere to sit.

  Paul walks over from the door and sets his bottle of whiskey on the table next to a stack of newspaper want ads. There are a variety of different job listings circled through out the pages of the newspaper. The need to find a job has been weighing on Paul’s mind a lot lately but right now he is focused on finishing his bottle and getting some sleep.