Survive (Book 1): Salvation Read online

  All of us at Helheim Games Studios LLC want to give a big thank you to Irregular Mischief Publications LLC for their work as the publication consultancy on the Survive and Salvation projects. Be sure to check out the literary works published by Irregular Mischief’s own Spike Bowen, author of the War in the Backyard series.

  Salvation

  By Veronica Smith

  Published by Helheim Games Studio LLC

  SALVATION Copyright © 2016 by Veronica Smith.

  SURVIVE Copyright © 2014 by Helheim Games Studio LLC

  All rights reserved. Printed in the United States of America. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews.

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, organizations, places, events and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  For information contact;

  Helheim Games Studio LLC

  PO Box 1410

  Mt. Sterling, KY 40353

  www.helheimgames.com

  Book and Cover design by Mason J. Mullins III

  ISBN-10: 1540780546

  ISBN-13: 978-1540780546

  First Edition: December 2016

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  Dedication

  I dedicate this book to my friend Chuck Anderson. He’s become more than just a friend; he’s become a mentor to me as well. He's been supportive and encouraging and always told me to keep at it no matter what. So naturally, I had to name one of the biggest characters in this book after him!

  Thanks, Chuck!

  Salvation takes place in an alternate future created by Helheim Games Studio LLC for their game Survive - Apocalyptic Horror Game. For more information on Survive and the world depicted by Veronica Smith in this novel, visit https://helheimgames.com.

  Also watch for the upcoming release of Survive - Our Children’s Inheritance, a graphic novel that takes the readers back to the days when the virus first began destroying our world as we know it.

  Introduction

  April 24, 2016. Although the world didn’t know it yet, this was the day to end all days. This was the day the world truly ended. They just didn’t know it.

  Jonathan Hamilton from Kansas City was the first patient identified with the virus, which came to be known as HHF, short for Hamilton Hemorrhagic Fever. The people and reporters called it The Blistering Flu due to the pustules that showed up around the eyes and mouth. Before long, they spread over the entire body; only this telltale symptom gave it away. The fever, muscle aches, and headaches otherwise mimicked the common flu. At first, everyone thought it was just another version of the flu, harmless but annoying, like most annual flu outbreaks. There was no cure, though, and it was only contagious via contact with the fluid from the pustules, which eventually filled the mouth. But the death toll rose quickly, and panic hit the nation when people realized just how deadly it was.

  By May 10th, there were 3,500 deaths and that quickly rose to 80,000 by June 1st. The CDC was thorough and ordered the brains removed during autopsies, apparently for study or testing. Everyone hoped and prayed the CDC would come up with a cure soon.

  Life halted as many stopped going to work for fear of exposure. Children were kept home from school and the majority of police eventually stopped showing up for their shifts. Crime skyrocketed as criminals took advantage of this, robbing and killing with abandon. Those that braved to venture out, stocked up on supplies so they could wait it out in their homes, boarding up the windows and stabilizing their doors. Sporting goods stores and gun shops sold out of everything even before the police presence disappeared. Those survivalists thought they only had to wait it out until the virus itself died out or the government came to help.

  On May 29th, a General Kevin Fowler died from The Blistering Flu. Whether it was because the Army wouldn’t let the CDC near his body or if it was a clerical error that kept him from being autopsied; the world would never know. And it would never be the same. With the brain still intact in the lifeless body, The General reanimated and climbed from its table in the morgue, and attacked the first living person that it came upon. A paramedic, bringing in another flu victim, was bitten and disemboweled. Even if he’d survived, it was too late. He’d become infected from The General’s bite, which worked much faster now that it came from a reanimated host. By the end of that day, there were thousands of new undead rising. As the first true Zombie, The General gave birth to the end of the world.

  To the world’s dismay, the virus spread beyond human hosts. Dogs and cats, bitten by zombies as well, also reanimated when they died. While the human zombies were slower and less coordinated, the animal zombies were much faster and posed just as much, if not more, danger, increasing the number of undead even faster. Zoos everywhere were burned down, their residents shot before they could become infected. Hunters, previously condemned by animal activist groups, were now sought after to help stop the spread of infection in the animal kingdom. The population of the zombies had efficiently doubled with the new species additions. Mankind was outnumbered.

  Within three years, what little government was left had weakened and lost support from its constituents. It was overthrown by the newly formed Neo-US. What little resistance there was to this was easily squashed, as they gained supporters and increased their ranks quickly. By 2022, there wasn’t a force that could stop them as they continued to overtake the country, state by state, to claim as their own new world. Many didn’t know that the founder of the Neo-US was a former Nazi sympathizer and, desperate for a miracle, probably wouldn’t have cared at this point. General Marcus Pendleton ran the Neo-US as efficiently as Hitler ran the SS. There were no traitors or failure under his command.

  One of the last orders the President of the old United States issued was the nuclear bombing of three major cities in a last-ditch effort to destroy significant numbers of undead. New York, Arizona, and Las Vegas had fallen entirely to the zombie hoards. There would be no human victims in this desperate act. While the bombs took out a huge number of zombies, the sheer amount of them in the country was staggering and it did little to ease the situation. All it really did was render parts of the country uninhabitable for human life, and fear of fallout caused an exodus of refugees to strain the already struggling nearby communities. Survivors branched out and formed compounds and villages in the new wastelands. Rumors of strange mutations of the undead near the fallout ran rampant, each story more exaggerated than the next. The few remaining supporters of the old government turned from them in disdain, eager to follow a new government with new promises.

  Resistances started and fought the new regime whenever they could. With ten states under Neo-US control by 2026, the Resistance had grown as well. Skirmishes turned into full battles as the Resistance, in vain, tried to overthrow them. The Battle of Minneapolis took seven months and, though the Resistance fought valiantly, they suffered a huge loss and the Neo-US claimed it as one of their HQ locations. The zombie outbreak hadn’t lessened through all this, in fact, it spread even more quickly as the injured and dying opposing forces were left to die where they fell. The only thing that reviled the Neo-US forces was the zombie hoards, which grew hour by hour, day by day.

  In 2027, the Neo-US finally realized they couldn’t fight the growing zombie population and formed a special detachment led by Colonel Mark Argosi. The Zombie Eradication Detachment, or Z.E.D. as many called them, were trained to kill all zombies and became the only thing that could bring down a hoard of substantial size. They started wi
th 15,000 members and grew as the Colonel’s power increased within the government. As the years went on, the meaning and drive behind the Z.E.D. changed. The training of Recruits had changed from killing zombies to seeking out any resistance and killing it. They became known for their ability to strike fear in the people they were supposed to be protecting.

  Captain Michael Goodard, who was a war hero from The Battle of Minneapolis and famous for his fearless charges, was put in charge of scouting for new recruits and forming the new Z.E.D. camps out in the wasteland. Taking control of the cities was relatively easy, even with the clashes between the new government and the Russian mafia that seemed to grow exponentially. But the wasteland was like the wild frontier of the old west. The hardened Raiders, compared to the Indian warriors that defended the taking of their lands, fought back with more ingenuity and strength from years of living in the wasteland. It took new ideas and new tactics to fight them and Captain Goodard was perfect for this role.

  By 2030, the main reason for their existence seemed to be increasing their ranks only to wipe out the Resistance and all Raiders. Anyone that didn’t follow and support them were considered the enemy, living or undead. There were rumors of crazy programs and experiments within the camps. Many told of entire villages being destroyed after the taking of prisoners for forced recruitment.

  As the years progressed, the tensions between the Raiders and the Z.E.D. increased; the original mission of hunting the undead had become forgotten. Raiders fought the dangers from the Z.E.D. as well as the zombies, both human and animal. Cannibal tribes also emerged and spread out their camps, as fresh, uninfected meat from animals grew scarce. The wastelands became the most dangerous place to live. While the Z.E.D. only wanted to rule the world, the Raiders only wanted to survive.

  Prologue – Fall 2032

  “Quick, get down there!” Ricky’s mother whispered to him as she pushed three bags into his arms. He almost dropped them as she ran from him to open the secret door in the floor. His father was kneeling down, talking to his younger brother and sister with a look of finality on his face.

  “We can just kill them,” Rick said quietly to his mother. “You’ve taught me how to kill zombies; all three of us can do it. How big is the horde?”

  “It’s not the zombies,” his father replied as he ushered Danny and Madison down the steps, tossing their bedrolls to them once they reached the bottom. He handed Ricky his bedroll, urging him down. Ricky had tossed the bags to Danny and Madison but held off following them.

  “I only wish it were zombies. It’s the Z.E.D. They’re here looking for more recruits,” his mother spoke up fearfully, “or worse.”

  “Sign me up then!” Ricky said, a little too loudly. “Those guys kill zombies! I want to join them.” His mother slapped him across the face, “Never say that!”

  “They don’t just kill zombies,” his father added. “They recruit who they want, whether you want to or not. And if you refuse, they kill you and your whole family. You want to be part of something like that?”

  Ricky looked to his mother, still shocked that she hit him.

  “You don’t know what they will make you do, what they will turn you into,” she whispered.

  His father took a quick look out the window. He could see them down the street. “They’ll be here in less than two minutes. You’ve got to be down there when they get here.” He looked around, inspecting their meager home. While it had a ‘lived in’ look, he was satisfied to see there was no evidence of children having lived here. They took great pains to keep it looking that way. God help them if they found children here. The rumors about the children... “Go now!” his father said, pulling Ricky into a quick embrace, “Remember that we love you and no matter what you hear up here, don’t make any noise. And do not come up here. I meant it.”

  His mother hugged and kissed him with tears in her eyes.

  “Why can’t you come down too? Then they’ll just go to the next house,” he pleaded.

  “It’s obvious that we live here,” his mother replied as she again checked the interior of the room. “If they find no one here, they’ll tear it apart and find the hiding place. We can’t risk that. Now go, dammit! There’s no more time.”

  Once he was at the bottom of the steps, he turned around and watched as they shut the door. He heard the thuds over his head as the heavy table and chairs were put back to their usual places on the rug over the door. He held his breath when dust sifted through the cracks around him. His parents thought of everything. They lightly scattered dust around the floor to disguise the furniture’s movement. Rubbing his itching nose, he went to where his brother and sister were huddled, their eyes wide with terror. They knew better than to cry. Their entire childhood was during the zombie apocalypse; their survival depended on their ability to stay quiet. He put his arms around them and pulled their heads to his cheeks. Madison was only eight and Danny was ten. Ricky himself was only fifteen, but in this world, he had grown up fast.

  They looked up at a loud noise; the front door hitting the wall as it was slammed open. He heard his mother screaming, his father shouting, and the sounds of fighting. He cupped his hands and quickly covered Danny and Madison’s ears. The unmistakable sound of boots dragging heavily across the rough wooden floor began right after his mother stopped screaming.

  Mom? If she was dead, they wouldn’t take her with them, would they? He heard his father yell once more as more scuffling ensued and then the door was shut with a bang. He waited for them to come open the door. They waited.

  Chapter One – Present Day 2035

  “Behind you!” Rick shouted to Amy as he swung the heavy bat, impaling another zombie’s forehead with the spike he had embedded in it. She turned around and ducked just as it lunged for her. She bashed a kneecap with her club and it collapsed sideways. They may not feel pain but by taking out their knees, they lost their vertical support and dropped like stones. With only a little effort, she slammed the point of her machete into its eye socket, wincing as green ooze poured from the socket.

  “Are there any more?” Their squad leader, Antonio, asked as he looked around, his weapons up and ready. Everyone shook their heads. “Check each other,” he ordered, immediately eyeing the man next to him for zombie residue. As soon as everyone was cleared, they scattered and began to scavenge. Everyone was covered up to protect them against the infection from the pustules. Even after all these years the zombies still had them, whether new or old, and were still dangerous if they burst near you. If even a drop got into your system, you were infected. More than one Raider had to be put down because they didn’t wear enough protection. It was easier in winter when it was cold and the extra layers were welcome. However, in the summer, it could get excruciatingly hot and some Raiders got lazy and wore less.

  “Uh, Antonio, you got an eyeball on your back,” Amy tittered.

  Antonio only turned his back to her and said with a grin, “Well, get it off girl!”

  She used her blade and carefully scraped it off where it made a soft plop as it landed, a pustule was protruding, and it burst. Infected green pus spewed a few inches around, causing the others to back up.

  “Was there at least anything useful here or was this a wasted trip?” Antonio asked everyone.

  They were inside a decrepit house they found while out searching for salvage. The entire back wall had collapsed several years ago so it was open and vulnerable to anything that wandered inside. Bobby Wayne and Tracy came forward with their duffle bags. Bobby Wayne’s bag contained about two dozen cans, all missing labels. Antonio’s practiced eye noted that two of them were swelled with black dents and he shook his head.

  Damn shame, those were probably peaches or something else delicious. He pulled them out and tossed them to the side. Food poisoning also was a big killer of the Raiders. Tracy was grinning like a fool who found gold, if gold had actually mattered anymore.

  “Spit it out girl,” Antonio said, pulling a home rolled out of his pocket an
d lighting it with a bent and twisted match.

  She pulled open the bag to reveal at least three unopened multi-packs of toilet paper.

  “Holy shit!” Rick exclaimed. “Well, easier to shit with anyway.”

  Everyone laughed but knew the toilet paper was an unexpected surprise. It was a rare commodity and would have to be rationed carefully or saved for some serious trading. They rummaged every corner and cranny until finally Steve emerged slowly with his hands behind his back like a child. He spoiled his dramatic surprise as he tripped and put out his hands to stop his fall. His prize fell from his hands to roll at Antonio’s feet.

  “No way!” He whispered in awe, dropping his cigarette and absently putting it out with his boot.

  Audible groans went around as his half-smoked cigarette was wasted. He bent to pick up the small can of coffee. He shook it and could hear the unmistakable sounds of loose dry coffee grounds. He turned in over in his hands, looking for the telltale signs of swelling or black dents. None; it was perfect. It was a small can and wouldn’t last long, but it was real coffee. He looked around and decided that when they got back to base, he would bring them all to his quarters and they would all share a pot or two.

  They were almost back to the compound when a group of zombies came from around the corner of a shrub. Amy had stopped to retie her boot and when she saw the zombies attack, she panicked. The others spread out immediately and began taking them out with their weapons. Amy couldn’t reach her machete at her waist while in her kneeled position and tried to stand while reaching for it. She lost her balance, tottered then screamed when she felt their dead hands grab her arm and pull.