Losers vs. Zombies, page 1
Losers vs. Zombies
by
Joe Fowler
Also by this author:
The Josh Thorne Trilogy
The Demon Heritage of Josh Thorne (1st book)
Vampire Outbreak (2nd book)
Witch Problems (3rd book)
Having Fun With Side Effects
Guarding the door
Titan’s Saga
Titan’s Story (1st book)
Titan Rising (2nd book)
Losers vs. Zombies
Copyright© 2015 Joe Fowler
All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not
be used or reproduced in any manner without the express written
permission of the author.
This book is a work of fiction. Any similarity to real persons, living or
dead, is coincidental and not intended by the author.
Chapter 1
I rolled out of bed. I am fat so rolling comes naturally. I made a quick trip to the bathroom and now I’m on my way for breakfast. Yum. One diet Rockstar and a sugar free piece of candy. This diet sucks.
My list of chronic pains are much longer than any sane person wants to deal with. A permanent back injury and gout damaged feet are the worst of them. Luckily, the pain wasn’t so bad this morning. I waddled over to my chair and turned on the idiot box.
“…we still do not have any word on the disappearances. More and more people are calling the police to report their loved ones did not come home. Authorities are baffled by the sheer number of sudden…” Some reporter droned on. I turned the station.
“Stupid news.” I wasn’t too concerned. I went through the menu trying to find something better to watch but found nothing. It would be another hour before Supernatural reruns came on TNT. I put it on Sportcenter and started debating a trip to the grocery store. “Well hell, I got to go sometime.”
By the time I squeezed into my Camry, my back was hurting. I groaned. It was about to get a lot worse. Walking through the grocery store caused my feet and back to be extra sore for days. It couldn’t be avoided. Even on the Atkins diet, I still needed some food. It wasn’t the foods I wanted but…
“Watch where you’re going!” Some woman yelled at me. She hit me! What the hell is wrong with her? I shook my head and continued across the parking lot.
The store was overly full for this time of the day. I got hit several more times. Some of the people were crying openly as they walked the aisles. I grabbed the meats, sugar free candies, and a few cases of diet Rockstar and went to the checkout line.
One of the things that hurts the most for me is when I’m standing still. My back hurts after a couple of minutes and gets worse the longer I stand. The damn line was backed up. All the lines were backed up, even the do it yourself lines were long. Any normal person would have noticed that something was terribly wrong. I didn’t.
On the way home, I stopped at a red light. A man attacked a woman on the sidewalk as I watched. He grabbed her and bit her. Two men who were nearby ran to her aid. They pulled the biter off the woman and beat the shit out of him. Horns started blaring letting me know the light was green.
“People suck!” I said as I continued home.
Supernatural was in full swing when I got home to my apartment. I put the groceries up as quickly as I could and sat for the four hour daily marathon. God bless TNT. There aren’t many shows I like. Supernatural is one of my favorites. I must have watched them all at least five times each.
Once the marathon ended, I made my way to my computer. I am a writer. My real name is Brad but I write under a pseudonym. There wasn’t any other job available to me. I couldn’t be on my feet, I couldn’t do any kind of physical labor, and I had too many social anxieties to work around people anymore. At one point or another I had been a construction worker, accounting clerk, security guard, pizza deliverer, truck driver, and poker dealing instructor. I couldn’t do any of those jobs anymore.
I applied for disability but was denied. I wasted three years trying to appeal only to be denied again and again. What makes it so bad is the people who were granted disability who didn’t need or deserve it. I had met a woman who was granted disability for a shoulder injury that wasn’t even painful to her. Here I am in an extreme amount of pain every single day and can’t get any help.
People suck.
I live alone. I sometimes go several days without speaking to anyone. My sister holds the privilege of being my only real friend. She is wonderful. She supported me while I was applying for disability and was my biggest fan when I began writing books. God bless her. If there were more people like her this world would be a nice place to live.
My current book was the third in a trilogy about werewolves. I received rave reviews from my first two and demand is high for the book I am writing now. It makes me shake my head and wonder why I didn’t start writing sooner.
“Come on, come on. Josh, you need to do something. But what?” I talk to myself a lot. It helps when I am stuck like I am right now. “Don’t be so lazy, do something. Don’t make me sign up for another fantasy football team like I did yesterday. I already have three teams. That is more than I wanted.”
Watching football was my biggest hobby. College or pro. Since I live in Alabama, I declared myself to be a diehard Crimson Tide fan when I was three years old. They let you wait until then before you must choose between Alabama and Auburn. My favorite pro team is the Atlanta Falcons. They were long time losers until recent years. Now they are losers again. Well, it was a good five year run anyway.
Writer’s block is kind of like hemorrhoids. No one wants to suffer from it. No matter how much you squirm you can’t quite scratch that itch. When the story is coming along on its own, things are all sunshine and bacon. At times like this, it is more like hell and tofu.
I put Five Finger Death Punch on. Sometimes music helps. As ‘The Way of the Fist’ began blaring, I looked outside. There were a few people wondering around but nothing interesting to look at. As I tried to refocus on my writing, the people wondering around bothered me more and more.
They weren’t looking around or moving in any kind of decipherable manner. It was more like they were sleepwalking. I didn’t see or hear any kids out playing either. This was July and there are way too many children in this apartment complex for it to be this quiet. Oh well, back to the book.
Thump, thump, thump, thump, thump. I made my fingers quit drumming on the desk. Writing is hard. I started pacing but my feet were now hurting from having to walk through the grocery store. I sat back down.
Yahoo or NFL.com? Looks like another fantasy football day.
“No! Three teams are enough. I--” A scream drew me back to the window. A woman across the parking lot was fighting against the old man from the apartment above me. Her husband came to her rescue and knocked the old man down. The husband was a huge man. The old guy was paper thin and around seventy years old. As I watched, the old man rose to his feet and went right at the big man and his wife. Once again the old man was knocked to the ground. This kept happening and I was mesmerized. No matter how hard the big guy hit the old man, the old guy just kept getting up again and again. Someone should call the cops…
“The cops! I can have Josh get arrested! That could work!” I went back to my computer with my newfound inspiration. The story began to write itself. Page after page clicked away under my fingers. The drama unfolding in the parking lot was forgotten.
I kept typing. I lose all track of time when I am into the story. Minutes become hours. I have been known to write for as much as twenty-two hours straight when the story is coming easily. Those days were becoming rare. This day was glorious. My fingers couldn’t type fast enough for my liking. The story was playing itself out in my mind but my fat clumsy fingers kept screwing it up on the keyboard.
I am hungry. My stomach growled loudly. It gave a moment’s distraction. I looked around and saw that it was dark outside now. Wow! That was productive. I headed to the kitchen for a diet Rockstar and something to eat. Damn diet. I wanted pizza not a piece of sausage. I can’t even have bread to make a sandwich! Stupid diet.
I sat in front of the TV to eat my piece of sausage and drink my Rockstar before I went back to typing. The news kept showing people wondering around and more reports of missing people. I didn’t pay attention. I turned the station to the NFL channel and watched a top ten countdown. It was weird since I expected Total Access. I knew training camp reports should be starting in a couple of weeks.
It wasn’t long before I was feeling the call of the book again. I got right back into my writing and forgot everything else. The clock on the computer read 2:42AM when I took a break. It started rough but turned into a great day.
I looked at the clock when I woke up. It was almost noon. Damn, wasting time I could be writing. I made my morning pit stop in the bathroom. I grabbed my Rockstar and headed for the computer instead of the tube. Supernatural was over for the day so I might as well get to work on the book.
“Let’s see, Josh and Seth were on the porch talking about the upcoming fight. Hmmm.” After a few minutes of catching up to where I left off, I began to type. The story came with ease. Woohoo! It was going to be another good day.
By the time I got up, it was dark out and I was starving. I grabbed a bottle of diet green tea and a can of pecans. I sat and turned on the TV. All the stations were showing news. Damn. I don’t want to watch this shit! Life is depressing enough. I kept turning and still more news. What the hell?
&n
When the movie ended I went back to writing. Since I don’t like my books to go too long without some kind of action scene, I wrote in another fight. It wasn’t a great scene but it would work.
I am not the kind of writer who puts in the details of everyone’s clothing and each piece of furniture so the reader is painted an absolute picture. I like to be considered a storyteller who lets the reader decide the characters clothing along with some of the other details. The readers use their imagination that way. It makes for better reading in my opinion.
The problem with the book I am writing is the story only has so far it can be stretched. I should apologize to my readers about how many times food is mentioned in this story. With my diet keeping me from being satisfied, half my book seems to be about the food they are eating. Food. Such a nice word.
I called it a night around midnight and went to bed. I had to put up with a ton of fireworks. The fourth was a few days ago but I still heard them popping all day and night. The next five days went much the same, fireworks and all. I slept, watched Supernatural, and wrote. That’s the way I like to be. No talking to other people, just doing my own thing.
I slept great! I started for the bathroom and was shocked to find I wasn’t hurting much. Even if my back is ok, my feet will be in pain. Sometimes I get relief from both of those only to have a headache or toothache to keep me hurting. This morning I was smiling uncontrollably. There was no pain anywhere! This was wonderful even though I knew it wouldn’t last.
After the bathroom and kitchen visits, I stood by my window looking out at the parking lot. It was mostly empty. There were a couple of people out doing that weird sleepwalking thing but I didn’t pay them no mind. People are weird.
I sat and turned on the TV before my back started hurting from standing up too long. Huh, two days ago all they could show was the news, now only a few channels are even working. Oh well, Supernatural is on. I sat back and drank my Rockstar as Sam and Dean killed some demons. It was a good morning.
My book was coming along really good until around sundown. That’s when I hit a lull. I struggled over a few bad ideas when I finally decided to give up. I went online to see how my previous books were selling. Damn, no books in the last six days. That sucks! How am I going to pay my rent if nobody is buying my books?
I went to the couch and turned the TV back on. More of the channels were out now. Only some of the cable stations were playing. There wasn’t anything good and I wasn’t in the mood for anymore old movies so I turned it off. Now what?
I decided to go to the movies. I went and took a shower since I didn’t take one that morning. I would see what was playing and head out for a change. I had been cooped up in this apartment for weeks except for an occasional run for groceries. That’s the problem with writing, sometimes you lose track of the outside world.
Chapter 2
“Damn.” I hate tying my shoes. It aggravates my back every time. I usually kept my shoes tied loosely so I could just slip my foot into them without having to tie them. You make things as easy for yourself as you can when you live in this much pain.
I was locking my door behind me when I heard shuffling footsteps. I turned to see my neighbor walking toward me with his hands outstretched.
“Hi, Mr. Johnson. How are--” The bastard tried to bite me! I pushed him away but he came right back at me. I am a very large man at 6’0 tall 330 pounds. When I pushed him the second time, he fell. He looked like he wasn’t sure how to get back up. I was about to walk away when he growled in frustration. Well I guess it was more of a grunt than a growl. “Look, Mr. Johnson, I will help you up but if you try to bite me again I will knock the shit out of you!”
I grabbed his hands and was about to start lifting when he tried to bite me again. Out of reflex, I snatched my hand away and started walking toward the parking lot, mumbling about how crazy people were.
I liked my Camry. It was an old car but still ran great. There were a set of keys on the sidewalk leading to my car. I picked them up to see who’s they were. The Jeep logo was clearly printed on one of the keys so I turned to give them to Mr. Johnson.
“Hey! I told you!” Mr. Johnson had crawled after me and was about to bite me on the leg when I turned and saw him. I backed away with my fist raised to hit him. I couldn’t do it though. I am a nonviolent person. I got into my car and pulled away leaving Mr. Johnson on the ground. Boy, people these days!
The roads were empty except for more than a few cars lining the ditches. A few of them looked to have had bad wrecks. I kept driving hoping they weren’t hurt. It wasn’t until I went a few miles without seeing any other cars in motion that I fully realized something was wrong. I saw a man crossing the street and pulled up next to him to ask what was going on.
“Hey. Where is everyone? I--” Now this asshole was trying to bite me. I was asking him a question and he leaned into my car trying to bite me. I released the brake and hit the gas. He hung on to my door and was drug a little ways before he let go. “That’s it! These people have gone insane.”
I drove around forgetting my anger as fear crept in. Each time I would see someone, they would start walking toward me with a purpose. So far I had nearly been bitten twice and these idiots looked like they were hungry too. Well, they looked like they were in some kind of walking catatonic state if that is possible.
Zombies is what they were reminding me of.
Oh shit. No Way! That’s only in books and movies. Couldn’t be.
The more I drove around the more convinced I became. There wasn’t any large groups of people in the area I was. I decided to drive over to Airport Boulevard, usually the busiest street in Mobile, to see what was there. On the way I encountered one group of around ten people. They all shared that zombified look. I went to drive around them but they got in the way. I wasn’t going very fast but the Camry took out one of them. The car hit the man in the knees sending him into the windshield of my car. Instead of being in pain, the man started trying to claw his way through the cracked windshield. His mouth was opening and closing like he was already trying to bite me.
I decided to go home.
I threw the car in reverse and turned at a high enough speed to make the man slide off the hood of the car. I hit the gas as soon as I could get the car into drive. The rest of the way home, I cursed and yelled. How the hell could I be so removed from the world that the zombie apocalypse came without my knowing it?
Mr. Johnson was where I left him. He resumed his crawl toward me when I stepped out of my car. I went around him easily enough and unlocked my door quickly. I slammed it shut behind me and locked it back. I needed to call my sister and find out if she was ok.
Ring, ring, ring, ring. “Hello, your call cannot be answered at this time, please leave--”
“AAAAAHHHH!” Now I would be worried. My parents were dead and I didn’t have any other family. Forty-two years old and my sister was the only person I had in the world. Now, I didn’t even know if she was still alive.
A year earlier, she moved to southern Florida. She had a great job offer she couldn’t turn down. I hated seeing her leave but what can you do? She needed to live her life. I rarely left my apartment anymore so it wasn’t like I was going to see her very often anyway.
I was interrupted by scratching at the door. I looked out the peephole. All I could see was the back of Mr. Johnson’s feet. He was still on the ground. As I continued to watch through the peephole, Mr. Johnson’s face suddenly filled my sight. He had used the door to help him stand up.
I began pacing my floor wondering what I would do. I had a couple more days’ worth of food but if Mr. Johnson and the rest of those people were zombies, I was in trouble. I decided I needed to find more people. As unsociable as I am, I would need help in facing this. Then it dawned on me.
My computer is still working! I sat and turned the computer on. Once it was up and ready, I went online. The front page of Yahoo was covered in stories of the zombies. I read for hours. Theories for explaining them ranged from terrorists using chemical weapons to a drug company experiments gone wrong. As of four days ago, over two and a half billion people were affected worldwide.
