The Journal of Jack Jones

The Journal of Jack Jones

A Story by Brody Jack Jennings

The tales of a teenage boy, Jack Jones, who survives the first wave of the zombie invasion that plagued his hometown. As the story goes on, we learn about how he finds new ways to survive.


If I could be honest, this all seemed like a long time ago. There wasn’t a man I’ve met who saw this coming. I even met the men responsible for this hell, and they were oblivious and naïve. Typical government: never able to foreshadow the punch line to such dark humor. It’s been what, 11 months now, maybe a year? I’m not sure, but I do know my journeys have brought me to many realizations, one of which would be that I shouldn’t be here, alive. I’m Jack Jones, and if you’re reading this then you’ve probably heard about what’s been going on. Or, maybe the quarantine worked. Dear God, tell me it worked!

            It was a summer’s night on the 17th of July. It started like any other, except it was one of those nights that came every few months. The military base down the road was flashing and making siren noises. Quite a commotion, but after a few years of living here we got used to it. Plus the house was cheaper, and since it only happened every two to three months it really didn’t bother us, who used to live in New York. I was downstairs watching some movie; a comedy about a father who becomes a drug dealer on accident I think. Half way through I noticed the sounds from the base stopped. It was rare, but not unheard of, for them to finish their testing before eleven at night. It was only nine. I didn’t think much of it and continued watching my movie. It wasn’t an hour until I headed upstairs to go to bed, my dog following close behind me. I don’t remember why at first I had stopped at the top of the stairs; maybe it was my already sense of paranoia keeping me from walking down the dark hallway, or maybe it was the fact that my subconscious already saw the figure waiting for me by the door to my bedroom. But whatever it was, I’m glad it kicked in. I stared at that thing, and it stared at me. This is the first time I encountered one of these sick monsters. It was standing straight, but with a sort of gangly stance at the same time, almost as if in a trance. My dog started barking at it, and it moved closer. My first thoughts were that this was a robbery, and I was going to be kidnapped or killed, and my dog provoked it into attacking. I thought, “Great! My stupid, f*cking dog caused this to happen.” There’s not a day goes by that I don’t thank my dog for what she did. The creature lunged at my dog, which was off to the side, and in an instant I was running past them and into my room, locking the door behind me. I thought for a second that I should have run into my parents’ room, which was directly next to the stairs and behind me. But I knew the painful truth that a room with seven windows, double doors to the hall, and a balcony leading outside was the worst place to barricade myself. My room had two high windows that overlooked the block and a large side window for a quick escape. Any weapons we owned were also stored in my room, due to my previously mentioned paranoia. My parents, like my dog, were doomed. I dragged the dresser and the bookshelf in front of the door and laid my back against it; nothing was coming in. I closed my ears, but it was hard to drown out the yelps and the cries coming from down the hall. There were many footsteps now, and I could tell more of these things were in the house. Zombie invasion: Great effing way to spend my birthday.


            I couldn’t believe how fast the infection was spreading. At first I was lucky, but that luck turned into wisdom. It’s not as if I were the only survivor, there were plenty of people who caught on and hid in their homes. The first and forever most important thing I learned is that the zombies don’t go out during the day. They stay in the homes of their victims. That last part I learned the hard way. The second day I got hungry and after noticing there were no zombies roaming the streets I went out my bedroom door, only to be greeted by four of the monsters (two of which were my late parents) and immediately re-barricaded myself. From that point on, my side window was the escape route. I met up with my neighbor, Mr. Patterson, who was an ex-military veteran who had started a business of creating bullet-proof vests that were specially designed with handgun holsters on the insides and two shotgun holsters on the back. Together we scavenged homes for food; I raided kitchens and he killed zombies. I wish I could say I went in Max Payne style with guns blazing and zombies splattering, my nerves nonexistent and my awesome levels off the charts. But I’m going to be real, I’m a 17 year old kid, I wasn’t ready to kill. On the third day, when night fell, I turned my lights off. I always kept my lights off as to not attract too many visitors. Mr. Patterson said it didn’t matter, that with my barricade they weren’t going to break through soon, but I like to stay on the safe side. Thank God I did. The sound of a truck rolled down the street and a squad of soldiers from the base jumped out and started killing the zombies that were out. A tall man pointed to all the houses with their lights on; the survivors’ houses. The soldiers saluted him and ran inside. In that next hour the sound of soldiers killing my fellow survivors filled my ears. I dared not look out of the window; I just huddled up next to the window and prayed they weren’t inspecting all the homes. But before I knew it, the truck was pulling out of the street and down the road. I know, I’m a sick b*****d, but knowing that all those people who didn’t bother turning off their lights and keep the zombies from coming were dead, helped me sleep at night. It sickens me that I would think this way, but at the time survival was my only option.

                I awoke the next morning and climbed up into the rooms of the past survivors. Their barricades were torn apart, but the zombies who had resided in those houses were killed by the soldiers was well. While I inspected Mr. Patterson’s house, I found a note in his cold, dead hand. It was quickly scribbled, but I could make out what it said well enough. “Brody, the soldiers are coming. Check fridge and inside safe. 24-19-78” I did so. The “safe” as he showed me was a shed in his backyard. It contained a dozen different handguns, seven Barrett REC7 assault rifles, and an M2 Browning HMG. His fridge had two sawed off shotguns and a sniper rifle. Ammo was in good supply, but not good enough. I would have to raid a few more homes before I felt safe. Not to my surprise, no other homes had weapons or ammo of any sorts. It wasn’t until I was around the corner that I remembered something important. “JARED!” Jared was my best friends, and he lived around the same corner that I was turning. He had been on vacation in the mountains for the last week, and was supposed to return last night. I walked up to his door and, after checking to see if it was locked, walked in. There were four dead zombies laying in the living room, but none of them were his family. “Why would they clear his house if nobody was home?” I thought. I decided to keep looking; perhaps I would find something useful since I knew the house was empty. The parents’ room had its door knocked down, and I had to walk on it to enter the room. But as soon as my foot creaked on the wooden door I heard a shift come from the bathroom. My handgun was in my hands immediately. I turned the corner and saw a figure standing, in a trance, right before me. My instincts told me to shoot, but I didn’t, thankfully. He was staring at the two dead bodies that were shot up on the floor in the bathroom. So the military had found Jared’s family. “Why didn’t they find you Jared?” It was a rude question, seeing as how I could have said a million other things, but it was the first question to come out. “We just got home; it seemed odd at first when the military stopped us at a blockade surrounding the town and told us that the town was undergoing heightened security due to a threat. They saw fit to let us through, though, after we told them we lived here. We gave them our address and continued on, but the town seemed fine. It was still dusk I suppose and no threats yet. We started to unpack, me in my room and my parents in the bathroom when the front door creaked open and footsteps approached. My parents didn’t hear it, but my room is right next to the front door: how could I not? When the soldiers came, I was hiding in my crawl space. The gunshots are still ringing in my head. When my parents were shot, and the soldiers left, I thought I was finally safe. But half way through leaving the space those…things searched our house next! When they left in the morning I figured what was happening. Every man, woman, and child in Lincoln knows about the military base and their late-night experiments.” I was still stuck on the fact that the soldiers let them in, just to kill them. “How long?” asked Jared. “It’s the 21st, so four days, and the night of the 17th.” “You’re birthday.” He shuddered then turned to me. “What now?” He asked. “I’ve pretty much become a novice at this survival thing,” I replied, “you’ll probably come with me now, I’ll teach you what I know, and then you’ll help me get through all this.” “Do you have a plan? Like, to leave this place?” “Let’s face it man, your story just confirmed my predictions: they’ve got this place quarantined. There is no leaving.”

Jared and I trained for two months on how to better our techniques at living. There were scares, but nothing worthy of mentioning. I wish I could tell you amazing stories, of action and enthrall or even a few dialogue moments of great importance; but this is real life, and nothing happens all at once. Events are spread, and thus leave plenty of room for unnecessary filler. Would you like me to tell you every waking moment? We were careful to never go out after dusk, and therefore never had encounters with zombies. That is, until the first week of the third month.

                We had just been out in the open, raiding our local market. Nothing to unordinary, seeing as how nobody else in our neighborhood was alive, or at least being public about it. I don’t blame them; some people don’t have balls like two teenagers do. They figure a zombie invasion happened; they should lock themselves away forever. Food would both force them out and cause them to be raided by their home-dwelling zombies, or the starvation would kill them. It was becoming a brutal life-style. The market was like a gift from God, but we still knew to be scarce with our indulgence and therefore only had to make a trip once every two weeks. We were almost done, about to leave, when a crashing sound came from the back. Our guns were pointed in the location faster than our own eyes blinked; paranoia was becoming a first nature. We headed to the back room to inspect the noise. If a zombie was living in the mart, it was possible all of the food we had eaten was contaminated. As we grew closer, we heard grunting sounds, and footsteps, and stumbling. We turned the corner and cautiously opened the door to the storage room. It didn’t take us long to notice the small bald man who was crawling out of the freezer. “Halt!” I yelled at him, stupidly. The minute he saw us with guns he threw his arms up in the air and jumped back. “Don’t shoot! I am an employee!” I lowered my gun, but Jared still kept it up. “Stand down, Jared.” I said it calmly at first, but he didn’t move his arms any lower. “Jared, stand down!” His defiant behavior had been acting up recently, but this was insanity! “THAT’S AN ORDER!” I remember taking his gun from him. I remember pointing my own gun at him. It was at that time, I had realized what these times were doing to us. It had been months: had nobody from out of town tried to contact us; to send help? My mother called my siblings, who lived out of town, every day before all this. Had they not become worried? Maybe the government was keeping us contained here in this town. Maybe even the infection had become statewide, nationwide, God forbid even worldwide. I gave Jared his gun and we continued to confront the bald man. “Why were you in there?” “When this all happened, I grabbed a cart of food and hid in there! That with the food in the freezer has been keeping me alive all this time. Did you know that cold temperatures can keep bacteria from spreading?” “We’re not here for a biology lesson,” said Jared, “Why are you just now coming out?” “Well I obviously ran out of food!” He showed us the inside: empty. “My name’s Tom, by the way. Not that you two care. So how long has it been? A week? Perhaps even a few days?” “It’s been three months!” I said, completely surprised. “Holy s**t man you have been in there a while!” “WHAT? Three months? But…my family!” “Did you live in this neighborhood?” Asked Jared. “Yes of course!” Said Tom. ” “Then they’re dead,” I replied, “We’ve checked this whole neighborhood. There’s only five or six living families and all of them are being run by a predominant male figure.” Tom was obviously distraught, but he was also obviously willing to do what it takes to live. “Look, Tom,” I said, “We need a new Milk-Man. Our last one died.” “A what?” “A Milk-Man is a man who will take supplies to those five or six living families and remember where they live so he can go, alone, to deliver the goods. It’s not a three man job, but you have to be careful, and Jared and I will have to train you of course.” “I’ll do whatever it takes to help!” “Good.” I tossed him four large sacks. “Fill these up and put them in a cart. We’ll show you the routes in the morning, but tonight we’ll show you your new living quarters. My bunker.”

           It was a few weeks later and dusk had come. We were in the bunker sitting around the small candlelight we were allowed to use at night. Anything brighter would give away our position to the military. Tom was asleep, but Jared couldn’t stop fidgeting. He leaned over to me; “Pst, Jack. We need to talk.” “About what, man?” I knew it was Tom. He wouldn’t stop eyeballing Tom every second he got the chance. “You know: the leech!” “The what?” “Look at him, bro! He just lays there, helpless, no real fighting ability. All he is good for is being a Milk Man, but think about it: he’s never had to be dependent! He probably sneaks the food off somewhere and hides it, so when we’re all off doing our morning inspections he’s out there engorging himself with those poor families’ food! How do we know what he does? What if he’s not really doing inspections? When’s the last time we actually saw those people? When we showed him the route, right?” “Look, Jared, if it bothers you that much how about I skip lunch and cover your inspections while you go check on the families?” He stared into my eyes, and I felt a chill. He didn’t look right to me, like something inside of him was different than before the invasion. “Okay, I will.” He said, and then we both fell asleep.

The next night came, and both Tom and Jared were late for check-in. I was about to put the metal flaps over the window when Jared came through. “Hey, man, how’s it going?” I couldn’t catch my own breath, let alone respond to his nonchalant question. He walked in wearing blood all over his clothes. “What’s wrong?” He asked. “Jared, what’s with the blood?” “I got stupid and checked a wrong house on mistake. Couple of zombies were there, but I got the jump on them. I’m fine, see? Not bit anywhere.” “Where’s Tom, Jared?” “Probably dead.” Jared caught on quick. “Jack, I don’t know where Tom is.” “What have you done, man?” “I didn’t do anything! It was zombies!” “Bullshit don’t lie to me Jared we’ve memorized those houses too much for you to slip up!” I started to reach for my handgun while I was talking, and he saw my hand. While I rested on the holster, Jared just stared at it. Stared like he had no emotions, no care, no worry. A knock came at the window and I cautiously opened it. Tom came bursting in, wailing like I’ve never heard a grown man cry before. He was holding something clenched tight in his hands. He ran to the corner and hid away from us, but I marched over and took the object from him: s bloody teddy bear. “Was this your daughter’s, Tom?” He shook his head; “I know better than to go back to my own home! No, it belonged to one of the families I was to deliver to. They’re all dead!” “Which family?” I’ll never forget the way he looked up at me, and spoke without making a sound, just moved his lips and formed “All of them” to me. I looked at the teddy bear and the word family struck me so hard I fell to my knees. I was never going to have one. Because even if I made it out of town alive and it turns out the rest of the world is fine, I’d be too traumatized to attempt to reenter society and start a family with a wife and kids. This is my life now, until the day I die. Tom, and Jared, the military, and those damned zombies: they were my family now. “The military must have gotten them.” Said Tom. “Bullshit!” Yelled Jared, reaching for his pistol. But it was gone from his holster. “What? You!” He pointed at Tom. “You took it you sneaky rat!” “NO!” I yelled, “I took it a few seconds ago. Jared, it wasn’t zombies was it? And it wasn’t Tom either.” “Well it wasn’t those families! I swear, Jack, you know me better!” I shook my head. “Not lately, Jared. You’ve changed.” He shook his head and stepped back towards the window. “No, no, no, no, NO! F**k you, and f**k you! I didn’t do it! Maybe it was him! Who are you going to believe, your best friend or the stranger we met a few weeks ago?” That was the last time the three of us would all be alive in the same room together, because then he ran out that window and never looked back.

It’s not easy to go from the most skilled survivor in the town to being held up, alone, in this small concrete room in the outskirts of town; underground, zombies pushing at the door above you,  ready to flood down like the pressures of crushing water. But that’s now, and our story hasn’t gotten to this moment quite yet. We were probably six, maybe seven months into the invasion, when Tom had a brilliant idea. Or, so we thought. We had just gotten back from inspections and had just found two skateboard-punk twins named Tim and Jim who were held up in the community center all this time, and asked them to join us; in return they would be our Milk Men. “We’re running a little low on ammo.” Said Tom. “I know,” I said, “But what can we do? We’ve gone through as many houses as we could!” “I know, and I’ve been thinking: we have enough ammo to clear a couple houses. Now hear me out: a few years back, the town leaders, one of which was me, realized that the military was going to cause some trouble eventually, and that we would need a source of protection, so we hoarded a large stash of guns in a secret location and never told anyone.” “Well by now I’m sure one of them has cleared it out.” “Yes, just one! You see, we realized that we wanted no reason for a stupid teenager to come across it and get a hold of both the ammo and the guns, so we had one member handle the ammo and another handle the guns, and swore to never tell anybody where they were. I was lucky enough to hide the ammo! I’m the only person who knows!” I just sort of stared at him for a few seconds. “You mean we had ammo all this time, stored away somewhere, and you decided NOT to tell me?” “Well, there are two reasons for that!” He said, backing away from an obviously furious survivalist. “The first being that we didn’t really need it!” “You better have a better excuse than THAT!” “I do. The shed is in the Home Depot.” Tim and Jim froze up, as well as I did. Of all the places, it had to be the Home depot. Let me explain: the Home Depot in this town stays open 24 hours, but isn’t manually operated; the lights come on by themselves, and they are bright as hell. We all know to avoid it, because obviously it’s where most of the zombies are. Nobody knew what to say next. Actually, now that I think about it, we were all stalling to see who was going to suggest going first; because if anything went wrong, they would be labeled as the person who had the stupid idea in the first place. “It’s suicide!” Said Jim. “Don’t act like you disagree with Tom.” Tim muttered under his breath. Jim almost whacked him with his skateboard, but stopped. “You’re right,” he said, “I can’t say I disagree. But we’re all going to die doing it. Especially since it’ll take longer than a day to get there!” “What are you talking about?” asked Tim, “It’s across town! Not across the state!”  “He’s right.” I said. I stood up and started loading up the supplies. “The military will be watching the town and we need to move as slowly and cautiously as possible. Every step will be like 50 steps, plus we have to travel through the day. Should be two days there, two days back. Get ready, because we’re going.” To this day I never understood where I got the balls to take charge like that and pull three lives under my responsibility. I couldn’t believe we didn’t see how badly we would fail.

                The next morning we marched out under the cover of dawn. The military changed shifts every three hours, starting at 6, which was our chance to get as far as possible before they would notice us. We made it two neighborhoods over by 9, and then the real work started. This would use up every piece of ammo we had, and if the cache wasn’t there it would use up our will to live as well. Moving through the streets as slowly as we were reminded me of the times my friends and I used to run through them as if there would never be another care in the world. But now: my friend was missing-probably dead- as were everyone I ever knew. 17 years old; why did this all have to happen to me? Why did I survive, a stupid teenager, and everyone else die? I couldn’t think like that, though: I’ve kept these three men, along with those families, alive; until Jared killed them all. It was twelve: time to make a break for it. We arrived at the bridge at roughly 12, but before we could see it we stopped at the building around the corner. “Wait, the military probably blew the bridge to keep the zombies from crossing the river!” Said Tom. “S**t!” Tim kicked the can nearest him. The river ran straight through the town, but it wasn’t just a river: it was a canyon, nearly 500 feet deep. The bridge, spawning another 100 feet across, would most likely be the only way to keep the source of most zombies from reaching the base. While we were talking, a patrolman walked around the corner, and we immediately grabbed him. “You! Where did you come from?” I asked. “The bridge!”  “It’s still intact?” I couldn’t believe it. “Yes, sirs! But the military is guarding it.” “How many?” “The rest that are alive: about fifty soldiers, most of them young like me.” He replied. “Then who’s guarding the base?” “Nobody! Didn’t you know? The zombies got it! It doesn’t exist anymore, just a series of overrun labs with a few held up scientists inside somewhere. Other than Home Depot, it’s the largest nest of these fuckers.” “Thanks for the info.” And then I shot him. I expected someone to object, but I had taught them well about the certain types of guards, and he was a siren: a man with no weapons, only a loud mouth. “Well, how are we going to get through them?” Asked Tom, “Their guns will tear through us like butter and we don’t have nearly enough ammo to pull a Russian-defensive-offense.” Tim stepped towards a police car and called over Jim; in several minutes they had the car hot-wired and running. “Jack,” said Tim, “Give me the Browning. I have an idea!”

                We drove the cop car as fast as we could towards that bridge, but the soldiers didn’t let up. Bullets were coming down on the car, but the metal bars we placed on the front window allowed for most bullets to bounce off and even rebound back at the soldiers. By the time we actually reached the bridge, the soldiers had taken the hint and moved, but were quickly on their tail shooting from their unprotected rear. “We need a distraction!” I yelled. “That’s why I brought this!” Yelled Tim; He pulled out the HMG. “That will never get straight enough aiming with Tom’s driving!” “Hey Jack, I’m right here you know!” Tom swerved as to remind us all of who was driving. “You would have to be on solid ground to use that thing anyway, not a speeding cop car with barred windows!” Jim added. Tim nodded, and we had begun to notice he wasn’t looking at us, but out the window. “I know, I know. Jim, remember: I love you, bro.” He said it almost too quietly to hear, but when he gripped the gun and started to open the door, we realized what he was doing. He wasn’t just looking out the window; he was looking for the perfect spot to jump out. And I remember it vividly; that single moment before he jumped out. It was a few seconds, but everything seemed to stop: the car, the bullets, even Tom. But the three of us in the backseat stared at each other as he embraced his brother, looked me in the eyes, and said “To think: a few months ago I was just some stupid skater-punk. Now I’m a martyr; crazy how quickly things change, huh Jack?” “Right you are, my friend: right you are.” He took one final nod and jumped out the door. We watched as he quickly mounted the gun behind some debris. He quickly shot down a number of guards, before we saw the bullets run out, and the dozen guards left reach him and shoot him in the head. Everyone was dying, and there were so many people killing other people that it sickened me; I almost threw up all over the back seat, but Jim stopped me. “We need to complete the mission, and come back to finish these guys off.” He smiled, and I smiled back. “He won’t have died in vein! When we do get back, assuming we live through this, I have a plan to save us all.” “I’ll follow you anywhere, Jack, I just lost my brother, you two are my only family now.” Tom stopped the car. “It’s getting dark; we should find a place to rest. Tomorrow we should arrive at Home Depot.

I awoke to the sound of Tom screaming in my face; “Jack! Get up, we need to get the hell out of here! The shed is this way come on!” What was he talking about? There were no zombies around, the sun was up and the lights were out! I stood up to calm him down, but I couldn’t move my left leg. As my eyes finally adjusted to the light, I noticed we weren’t outside: we were in the Home Depot. The vehicle was crashed through the wall to our side, zombies were approaching from the outside fast, and the other two were already dragging me to a safe location. My head felt like hell and I couldn’t remember anything. “How did we get here? Why didn’t you make me up before driving into the store?” “What are you talking about, bro? It was your plan!” Yelled Jim, “You flew out of the font windshield and got knocked unconscious! Seat-belts, man, never heard of them?” They continued to drag me through the store, the last of our bullets going into the heads of the approaching zombies. “F**k me, I’m out!” I looked up at the others, but neither of them had said it. It wasn’t the voice of either of them, too; Tom was timid and Jim sounded much more like a beach-boy. This new voice was raspy and hard. The raspy-voiced man, who was wearing what seemed to be an imitation of Crocodile Dundee clothes, jumped forward towards the zombies and started fighting them off as they stopped chasing us and focused on the victim before them. “Drake, no!” This voice was definitely a woman’s. What the hell was going on? I realized I was still being dragged when I was scraped across the metal tile that separated the store from the shed in the back. I got up when we were inside and helped close the doors and bolt them shut. “Does someone want to explain what that was about?” Everyone looked at me stunned; there were two woman and a small child in the group, along with Tom and Jim. “What do you mean, man?” asked Jim, “This was your idea!” “I…don’t remember anything since we fell asleep after losing Tim!” Tom walked over; “You must have really hit your head my friend, because it’s been an hour or so since that happened!” I stumbled back at these words. It wasn’t a serious case of amnesia, but I had never just forgotten something in my entire life, and now this! “What…what happened?” They all looked at each other. “You told us to drive into the Home Depot, Jack. You said there would be no other way to get past the zombies without a full on attack. It was true after all; none of us had enough bullets.” “Where did these people come from?”

                I woke up with an idea that would both be risky and necessary to our survival. I woke up Tom and Jim who had already been packed to go on the word. As we jumped in the car, I took the keys and hopped into the driver’s seat as we took off like a bat out of hell. “What’s the plan, bro?” asked Jim, still half asleep. “We’re going to ram the Home Depot walls: head on!” “Excuse me,” said Tom interjecting and coming up into the front seat with me, “do you want to elaborate? I mean, if it’s going to kill me I want to at least know…” “We’re not going to die…okay, we might die, but it’s the only way!” I noticed as we drove through the streets that the buildings were bombed out, destroyed, and eerie. The streets were blackened and everything had seen some bomb-shell or bullet that the military had on presence. “I get it now.” Said Tom; “This is where it started! This is where the infection had begun, so they attempted to destroy the b******s but they failed and some made it across the bridge.” It made sense to me, but something was wrong, something that told me he wasn’t entirely right. “No,” I replied, “This is where it ended!” “What do you mean?” asked Tom. “Think about it: it must have started at the military base, otherwise it wouldn’t have hit my neighborhood the same night.” “So why was this side of the bridge attacked and not the other?” And as if I had been here, I knew the answer. “They didn’t bomb the zombies. They bombed the people.” “Why would they do that? The zombies are the threat!” I shook my head; “Zombies are just infected people. If they bombed our side, there would still be a chance that one zombie would escape to the other side and infect the rest. They took care of the future problem rather than the one at hand.” Jim sat stunned. “Well…f**k.” “Wait,” replied Tom, “why wouldn’t they just destroy the bridge too?” I couldn’t answer that, I didn’t know why they wouldn’t take care of our side of the bridge and the bridge all together.

                “Oh my god,” I yelled, “I know why I drove us through the walls!” I realized I just yelled to everyone in the shed. “It’s not because we were low on bullets, it’s because we needed to get in and out as soon as possible! Gather up the ammo, quickly! Dear god this is not good!” Tom ran over and tried to calm me down while people started to scramble for the ammo. “What’s wrong?” “They didn’t decide not to blow the bridge, Tom! They just haven’t gotten around to it!” He finally started to understand me. We rushed out of the building and into the two cars we had waiting; as we ran I questioned the new survivors. “So where did you people come from?” We were creating a full-frontal on the Home Depot when you three showed up. You let us hop in and join the assault.” I got the gist of what was going on, but was too worried about getting to the bridge; for all we knew they bombed it while we were attacking the store. So close, only a block away. The bridge came into view around the corner and I hit the gas as hard as it could go; everyone had a tight grip on the walls and doors, as if waiting for the bomb to hit us as we were on it. As the tires hit the rough cement of the bridge, Jim opened the door and had several people hold him as he grabbed something from the ground outside; it was Tim and the machine gun. “Couldn’t forget these since we were coming this way anyway, right?” I nodded my head. “Jack, look!” Tom was pointing outside the window and to the air. Several B-52 bombers were approaching quickly, and we were only half way across the bridge. My grip on the wheel was cutting off my blood circulation, and everyone was so tense that we hadn’t realized we were frozen in our spots. The bomber came over head, and the bombs were seen coming at us. Let me tell you, there is NOTHING in this world that is scarier than a bomb of that size coming at you. But we had made it off the bridge as the bombs were still falling. I looked back, where the second car was still on the bridge. “HURRY!” We were yelling at them as if our words would make a difference.

                They were so close, so close that their front tires made it to freedom. But the explosion took out every square inch of cement that made up the bridge, including the edges. Fate didn’t even have the decency to kill them quickly with the bombs; they just fell over the edge and crashed to their deaths. We stared at the spot where the bridge used to be; “It’s just going to be us, huh?” said Tom. “You and me are the only ones who have stayed alive in this group, Jack! I think it’s a curse, and that means Jim is next.” Jim turned a sickly pale. “Shut up Tom,” I said, “We’re all going to live. I’m going to make sure of that.”

                And yet here I was: alone, no friends, in this bunker. I held the trigger close to my chest and a single finger resting on the button that lay upon it. Save myself, or save everyone. I wasn’t ready to die! I haven’t even turned 18 yet. I’m still a child, and I have the fate of our nation, even the world, in my hands, at the stake of committing suicide. How do things come to this?

               The packing process took only hours, and within getting home we were also ready to leave for the base. Though we didn't, because obviously we didn't want to attract the zombies as night was approaching. As soon as night had come, so had dawn; we were on our feet and moving before the sun had fully come up. To our benefit the soldiers had all been killed off, either by the zombies or us. The base had only one gate entry, and this had been broken open and scattered from impact; obviously a truck ha tried to drive out. "Should we be driving through the base?" asked Jim. "No," replied Tom, "the noise would only let the zombies within know we are here." "Man, I don't even know why we are here." "Don't you want answers, Jim?" I asked. he mumbled to himself but continued to follow us to the front doors to the laboratory. The inside looked perfectly normal, as if untouched by the zombies. A noise came from the door across the hall and immediately I grabbed the first thing to come out and throw it to the side, my gun in hand and ready.

           A small man, balding and in his late forties, got back up from the ground, searching for the gun he was just holding. Immediately I kicked it away and kicked him against the wall; "Who are you? What's going on? Why Are you alive and why is this place untouched?" I became dizzy from the questions and a little disoriented at the speed I was talking, but I had to get the answers as soon as possible. "I'm a scientist! And I don't really remember much, other than a loud noise from down the hall and the sirens blaring like usual." "Why is this place untouched and why aren't you a zombie?" Good, Jack, ask the right questions. "I have a monitor that tracks anything within a thirty foot radius of that door inside my security room over here. Whwn something approaches, I wait behind that door and kill whatever comes through! As for the condition of this establishment, I don't really know myself. Nobody was attacked here is my assumption, and specimen X escaped under cover of night, nobody knew what was happening until it had ended." I let him go and he grabbed his gun, proceeding to lead us to the security room.

           A series of a dozen monitors were mounted on a wall, each showing a different room in the laboratory building as well as the surrounding perimeter. "Have you come to help? Are you three soldiers who survived?" "Do we look like soldiers?" Asked Jim, pointing to the attire and postures of us. "Damn it. I need some professionals!" "What is it you're planning?" I asked. "There is a room, a bunker more notably, on the far side of the lab. Inside is a bomb the size of...well, my massive genius brain that can kill everything in the room and a good hundred feet in every direction above. If we can lure the zombies into that hole with a noise, then we may be able to detonate them all." "They're all over town! What noise will be that loud?"

© 2011 Brody Jack Jennings

Author's Note

Brody Jack Jennings
There's a very minimal amount of curse words, but they are present. They are not used in anything other than dialect, though.

My Review

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Haha it isn't finished I haven't gotten around to finishing it yet :P But thank you so much for the good review!

Posted 13 Years Ago

This seems like it should be a video game or a movie. It was fun to read though. I was interested throughout the whole thing, but I don't feel like it should have ended there!

Posted 13 Years Ago

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2 Reviews
Added on July 6, 2011
Last Updated on July 7, 2011
Tags: Journal, of, jack, jones, brody, jennings, adventure, short story, zombie, invasion