Kinemortophobia (The Fear Of The Undead) Book 1

 Kinemortophobia

  (The Fear Of The Undead)

  By

  Jeremy Bene

  * * * * *

  PUBLISHED BY:

  Kinemortophobia

  (The Fear Of The Undead)

  Copyright © 2013 Jeremy Bene

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  Any similarities with names in this book are strictly coincidental. The names in this book do not reflect the true personalities of any person(s) with the same name as a character in the book.

  Chapter 1 - Jeremy

  It’s been three months since the outbreak. We’ve all adapted by now, because if we hadn’t we’d be dead. There’s no avoiding it, we’re all going to turn, but we stay alive in hopes of finding a cure, a glimmer of hope in devotion to the human race and restoring it to what it once was. I always thought I would welcome the downfall of humanity, for it had turned into mindless politics and arguing. People didn’t have that ‘natural’ sense of kindness; they were greedy, self-centered, and power-hungry. The key word in that sentence is were. Three months ago, there was a lab combustion in Montpelier, Vermont, where top league scientists were working on a serum to try to kill all malicious cells in the body, thus ridding the world of disease. Ironically, they accomplished the complete opposite. Apparently, one of the scientists used too much of one chemical and the solution destabilized. The resulting lab explosion set loose an airborne virus, a virus of what the remnants of humanity have appropriately dubbed the “zombie virus”. This virus takes effect once a person has died; it re-animates the brain and makes the former person into a carnivore hungry for anything it can get its hands on. The ‘person’ is no longer the person it once was, but now relies on instincts alone to get to its food sources. It will happen to everyone, we will all turn into a zombie, unless of course we find a cure to the virus. For the past three months, my crew and I have driven all across America with an RV in hopes of finding scientists who at least have a lead on a cure. My name is Jeremy Bene; I am the leader of our little group of survivors. Everyone looks up to me for everything, I guess in a way I am their saving grace. Even when I make my fair share of screw-ups, they still commend me. I’ve got dirty blonde hair which strands down to my shoulders and a quarter of the way down my back. For about a year everyone has been telling me to cut it, but I haven’t listened. I’m 18 years old and am well-built, and also I have a lot of muscle on me, so basically I’m built as a lineman in football would be. I couldn’t ask for a better crew. I try to make my decisions as well thought out and un-biased as possible, but obviously, sometimes they don’t work out in my favor. All in all, I would consider myself a fairly good leader, and my group seems to agree. Next in command is Haley Taylor, 18. She’s not biologically related to me, but I’ve always considered her my little sister. She’s a lot taller than me though, which makes it hard to believe she’s my little sister. She’s got long blonde hair and she’s very skinny. She’s the closest thing to family I have right now, even before the outbreak we were really close. She’s also very skilled in leadership; however, she is more quick and agile than I am. She’s good for making food runs into abandoned gas stations or supermarkets. Then we have her husband, Ryan Taylor, 20. Ex-military, Ryan went rogue when the Navy sent out several black ops missions that Ryan was a part of. Ryan didn’t approve of the black ops missions and went AWOL; however, he seems to still have access to the naval databases. He’s a very experienced gunman and tactician who very rarely goes out into the field. We usually use him as a backup fielder, due to the width and depth of his arms; he’s the buffest guy in the group. He’s taller than Haley, about six foot-eight and is pretty muscular. However, he usually stays in the RV with me and another guy to improve our tactics and keep radio with the fielders. That other guy is Andrew Weir,16, probably the smartest guy left in humanity. A little shorter than me, the kid has short brown hair and thick, steampunk-like glasses. His stature is a little heftier than me as well, and he is ridiculously intelligent. Both a tactician, and a combat plan developer, he’s one of the most valuable assets we have; without his intelligence I daresay we wouldn’t have lasted half as long as what we have. We have another Andrew in the group, Andrew Wilson, 17. He’s from England, but he was on a vacation to visit me and Weir when the outbreak broke out. He’s a bit taller than me, and a bit heftier than Haley, but not by much. The three of us met through the internet and have been best buds ever since. Andrew specializes in gun handling and melee weaponry. He can fix almost any melee weapon with the slightest of ease. He is also a sure shot when it comes to pistols, sub-machine guns, and assault rifles. Another person I met through the internet is Caitlin Barber, 15, who lived in Canada before the outbreak. She’s got short blonde hair and is the shortest one of all of us. We set up a meet with her, I, and the Andrews, and about 2 days after we picked her up the outbreak blew out. She is one of the best scavengers I’ve ever seen. She’s helped us salvage many things that have kept us alive over the course of our survival run. Finally, there’s Zach Current,18, my oldest friend. We’ve known each other literally since birth, we grew up together, and half the time we shared the same playpen and crib. As young kids, we were inseparable, until he moved to Ohio from Missouri about three years back. When the outbreak happened, the group and I drove up to Ohio to get Zach; luckily he was still at his place. He was built almost exactly like me, but a bit more aggressive. His hair was longer than mine, but straighter as well. He was a great fielder, he killed zombies like there was no tomorrow, as well as being able to carry a huge load in the backpack he took from his home. Between us, we were a great group. We had each other’s backs no matter what, and we have depended on each other for survival. As we sped down the highway, I noticed a road sign. ‘Now Entering Iowa’ is what it read. My initial thought was that it didn’t feel like it had taken that long to get here from our last destination. I looked at the calendar and I realized about a week had passed since we were in West Virginia; I then realized that I had been behind in days. I went and checked on the inventory and saw that we were running low.

  “Hey Zach!” I yelled to the cockpit. We all took shifts driving the RV, and it was Zach’s shift right now.

  “How are we doing on fuel?” I continued.

  “We got about an eighth of a tank, we’ll need to find a station soon!” he replied. Usually I don’t miss inventory days, but I’ve been preoccupied with other things lately. I’ve been thinking about my family a lot, how they died in the first few days of the outbreak and my skills kept me alive. How I watched my father get overrun by zombies as I sped away in my beat-up Sedan, how I let my little nephew get ripped out of my arms by those creatures. How I let my entire family fade away, and yet I didn’t blame myself. No one could’ve prepared for this, for it’s basically the end of the world. I couldn’t stop thinking about them; I guess that’s normal though. Losing your family is a truly horrific experience that no one should have to go through; unfortunately, it is now the norm in this post-apocalyptic world.