The Chronos Plague (Book 1): No Time Left Read online

  THE CHRONOS PLAGUE

  Book 1: No Time Left

  Joseph Talluto

  www.severedpress.com

  Copyright 2018 by Joseph Talluto

  Chapter 1 – 6 Months After the End of the World (ATEOTW)

  “How many do you think there are?”

  “Damned if I know.”

  “Are we going to die?”

  “If you want.”

  “What?”

  “You can stay here and die. Me, I’m getting out.”

  “How can you do that?”

  “Remind me of what I owe you people?”

  “Jesus.”

  “I think he’s left town by now, sweetheart.”

  I didn’t wait for a reply. I left the window and went back to my little apartment. I had taken refuge in this building simply because it didn’t have a ground floor. The ground floor was allocated to parking for residents’ cars, and the apartments were all of twelve feet off the ground. The only entrance to the building was a single doorway, which we had blocked a week ago. When I had arrived, there were fifteen small groups of people taking refuge from the nightmare that was outside. They’d lucked into this building. Me? I’d been fighting to get here.

  I’d been in this place for a week, and during that time, I had plenty of opportunity to assess the people who were hiding out with me and I had to say I wasn’t impressed with any of them. I had met everyone, and they were decent people, but in a world gone crazy, they wouldn’t survive long. I’d been on the move for six months, working my way through a mess, hiding when I could. I managed to stay in a single place for a whole month before it got run over. Another place almost fooled me into security when we stayed alive for two months. That is, until some damn fool left the gate open. I barely got away from that one.

  I checked my gear and made sure everything was where it was supposed to be. I went over my maps, committing to memory the route I wanted to take, as well as two other alternative routes in case the main one wasn’t available. That was standard practice. When you had to run, you ran. Stopping to check your map was a rookie move that got you killed.

  I stretched out and closed my eyes, letting my ears take over. I could hear the man and woman next door arguing, and it sounded like the same stupid thing over and over again. She wanted him to man up and he just wanted her to shut up. Couldn’t blame the man for that one. I met his wife once and three seconds later, I wanted her to shut up. In her defense, though, he was kind of a wimp.

  I could hear other voices as well. No one spoke too loud; they were too scared of calling attention to themselves. I heard the word food several times, and I thought I heard the word gun twice.

  Over everything, though, I could hear them outside. Even through the windows, I could hear them. They moved constantly, shuffling, stumbling, shambling, their feet slapping the pavement. Every once in a while, you could hear them groan and moan when something caught their attention. If I was really unlucky, I would hear running, then screaming, then dying. After that, the sounds turned into a wet parade of bloody tearing, ripping, and eating.

  Once in a while, a vehicle would go past, and I knew better than to look out the window. They were the marauders, the looters. They looked for survivors to rob, rape, and kill. That’s all they lived for. Sometimes they would tear apart your defenses and let the others in, just for fun. If they saw you looking, they came for you. I’d run into a group of them further south. They wanted my gear and I didn’t want to give it up. They weren’t used to people fighting back. It was a lesson I never taught twice.

  The sounds died away and I went to my kitchen, looking out through the blinds. The sky was darkening, and there was still fresh smoke rising in the air. It always seemed like something was forever burning. Tonight’s barbecue smelled like old tires. Across the street was a tall building, and on the upper floors, I could see specks of light here and there. Usually, in the taller ones, there were more people. I thought that was kind of dumb, since it was harder to get to resources like water and food, but they made their choices. Up the block a dog ran down the street, heading toward the water to the east. The Atlantic was just a block and half away.

  As I watched, they came out to try and grab him. They moved slowly, but made up for their speed in sheer numbers. They overwhelmed defenses and shrugged off injury since they couldn’t feel it anyway. They were remorseless killers, having only a single purpose: Kill everything. They were the dead, and they were walking the earth.

  And in a way, it was my fault.

  “Joe?” There was a small knock on my door.

  I went over with my gun at hand. I had never trusted anyone and I wasn’t about to start now.

  “Who is it?”

  “It’s Cade.”

  Christ. I needed this now like I needed a hole in my canteen. Cade Wallow was a pain in everyone’s ass. He basically hovered around, trying to attach himself to people in the hopes that they would save his hide if things got really tough. He’d been an IT guy before the world ended, and God alone knew how he lasted this long. He had followed me around like a puppy for a day until I pulled a gun on him and threatened to shoot him in his femoral artery just to watch him bleed out. He giggled like he thought I was kidding, and I doubt he ever knew how close he was to dying in that moment. What he wanted now I couldn’t guess, but there was no getting rid of him easily.

  I spoke through the door. “What do you want, Cade? It’s getting dark and I’m tired.” That much was true.

  “Katie says you said you were leaving.”

  “So? My business, my choice,” I said.

  “Can we talk about it?” Cade whined.

  “Go away, Cade,” I said, lowering my voice to let him know I was irritated. It never worked, but I had to try.

  “Can I go with you?”

  “Go away, Cade. You’re safe here. Figure it out,” I said. I have no idea why I was wasting breath with advice to this guy. Back in the day, we’d refer to guys like these as nothing more than targets. At their computers, they were gods. Away from their computers, they were useless. For the life of me, I could not figure out how that guy managed to survive the fall and the anarchy afterward.

  “If it’s safe, why are you leaving?” he asked.

  “None of your damn business,” I growled. “If you’re still outside my door in one minute, I will gut you and throw you to the street.”

  I listened to the sound of his retreating footsteps. I’d probably have to deal with him tomorrow, but for now, he was gone and it was quiet. It wouldn’t stay that way but I was used to it by now.

  My current sanctuary was a one-bedroom apartment among several other apartments arranged in a square around a central courtyard that contained a pool. The water in that pool had long turned to an interesting shade of green, but that didn’t stop us from boiling it on a continual basis for drinking water. As it was, we had only depleted the water by a foot since I got here. Rain helped replenish the water; probably the only thing Florida was good for these days. The people here had planted gardens and were harvesting vegetables, but they could only go so far. Two of the other men were constantly going on raids and I would probably join them tomorrow. My traveling rations were low and I was getting that old familiar feeling that I needed to move on, and do it soon. It was a feeling that I carried over from my old job and it had saved my life more than once. The one time I didn’t pay attention, I found myself pushing off the remains of a hotel from my aching head after a car bomb tore the front of the building off.

  I pulled the cork out of a well-aged bottle of double-oaked bourbon and poured myself a decent glass. It sang me a lullaby as I drank it, putting me to
sleep as the world burned and died outside.

  The next morning smelled the same as the night before, and while I was trying to extricate myself from the couch, there was a loud scream practically outside my window. I popped off the couch with more speed than sense, and I needed to brace myself against the wall for half a second while the room figured out it wasn’t supposed to be the one moving around.

  I made it to the window and looked out, figuring I would see someone running from the dead.

  What I didn’t expect to see what a couple of marauders trying to get their groove on with a young woman on the sidewalk in front of my window. There were two of them, and one was holding her arms down while the other was fumbling with his pants. His belt kept slipping off because it was loaded with extra gear, and it would have been comical if not for the whole rape thing.

  The window in my apartment was split like a shutter, and it could be opened and closed like one. I eased it open until I had a clear shot at the scene. I stuck my gun through the window and shot the man holding the woman’s arms. He fell back and decorated the street with his blood. The other man froze for a second then tried to grab at his gun. It fell to the ground, taking his belt with it. Knives and gear fell all around him as the belt was pulled out of the loops of the pants.

  The woman wasted no time. She whipped a knife out and slashed her attacker once across the throat, sending that man’s blood flying across the sidewalk in a huge arc. Wide-eyed, he slumped to the ground, bleeding out his life through his fingers as he tried to staunch the flow. The woman jumped to her feet, stabbed the man again in the throat, grabbed her pack, and with a small salute in my direction, she ran off down the street.

  Whoever she was, she knew her stuff. That shot and her screams would draw the dead faster than anything, and the blood would drive them crazy. I closed the window and stepped away from the light, and sure enough, the dead came walking around the corner. There were six of them, two men and four women, and they were rough to look at. Every one had bloody gashes and tears in their skin, and their mouths were caked with dried blood. One of the men had a long piece of meat hanging from his teeth. The group saw the two men on the ground and came over to eat. They tore and bit and ripped away the clothing to feast on the flesh. I didn’t bother to watch; I’d seen it before.

  With the zombies on the other side of the building and the ones that were on my side, there were probably over fifty zombies in the immediate vicinity. I certainly didn’t want them to know I was here, which was why I was staying back from the window. They couldn’t get to the window, and the parking spaces below the apartments had no doors, so we were safe as long as the front door was secure. And I think no place on earth was watched more closely than that entrance. We never went out that way—we always used a ladder from a balcony—but all it took was one to see us in here and they’d never leave us alone.

  I counted to twenty, and sure enough, there was a small knock on my door.

  I opened it to see a small man standing outside my door. He was about five foot six to my six foot two, and everything about him was small. He had a small head, small hands, and small feet. His name was Ramone, and he had appointed himself as the de facto leader of the little community we had here. The only reason he managed to keep that title was his brother standing behind him. Brother Luis was what happened when God was in a bad mood when he made you. He was easily over six foot six, broad-shouldered and long-armed. His arms ended in huge hands, and his legs, while disproportionately short, were as thick as rain barrels. His jaw was a jutting shelf of bone, while his eyes were black coals set deep in his ugly face. That face was staring at me with barely contained fury

  “Hello, Ramone. What rule did I break this time?” I asked tiredly.

  “Hello, Mr. MacCullen,” Ramone said.

  I rolled my eyes. He always used formal names. Maybe he thought it was intimidating.

  “Mr. MacCullen. You fired a gun out your window. That is clearly against the rules. You know how that attracts the dead,” Ramone complained.

  “I was saving a woman from being raped by Marauders. End of story,” I said.

  “Regardless of the reason, it is a violation, and given your history of violations, I am going to have to confiscate your firearm,” Ramone said.

  “That’ll be the day,” I said. I went to close the door and a big hand pushed it back. I stepped back as Luis stepped into the room. His bulk made the place suddenly seem smaller.

  “You’ll hand it over, now.” Luis growled, walking toward me.

  I shrugged and pulled the gun out, unloading it and handing it over. Luis smirked as he took the gun, only to frown as my other gun came out and I pointed it directly at Ramone’s head. Ramone let out a little squeak as he stared at the large hole in the gun where the bullets came out.

  “Put it down on the couch, Luis, or I’ll kill your brother,” I said gently. Something in my voice must have convinced him because Luis dropped the gun.

  “Back up, get in the hall,” I said. Luis’ eyes promised me a slow, painful death as he moved toward the door. I walked closer to Ramone and looked at him for a moment.

  “Don’t ever try that again,” I whispered. Ramone’s eyes never left the gun as he slowly backed out, nodding his head.

  As the door closed behind them, I knew I was going to have to deal with one or both, very soon. Luis was loyal to a fault, and Ramone was just a mean bully. Together they were very dangerous. The only thing I regretted was not killing both of them, but the gunshots would have attracted the dead outside.

  I wiped off my other gun and went to my bedroom, placing both guns on the bed with me. One gun on one side, one gun on the other. I learned a long time ago I slept lightly and rarely moved at all. If something was to try and break in, I had both guns near to hand. On more than one occasion, it had saved my bacon.

  In the early morning, I gathered my gear and hid it up above the linen closet in the small hallway between the living room and the bedroom. I left enough out to make someone think they were getting something, but it was nothing I couldn’t replace. What went up in the closet was personal and irreplaceable. I figured Luis and Ramone might make a play and I was sure they would try to find something they could use as leverage. They would fail.

  I went down to the center pool and started the small grill. I took the large pot sitting next to it and scooped it full of water. I placed it on the grill and waited for it to boil. As it did, I watched the small stirrings of life begin as they did every morning. There were creaks and moans as wood floors were walked on, and squeaks as windows were carefully opened. I poured the boiling water into a large plastic container to cool, and then scooped another pot full to boil. I dipped my mug into the still hot water and dropped in a coffee packet. I had found a bunch of those from a hotel I had taken refuge in one night. The water turned from clear to a comfortable brown, and I sipped it as it cooled.

  The second pot boiled, and I poured it into the container. I put a third one on and by the time it had boiled, there were people coming out to get their supply for the day. Some had buckets, but most had those large plastic bottles. I guess it was easier to see how much you were using. I filled two for myself and went back to my place. I put the water up in the secret place and went back to the main area. By the time I got there, two other men were gearing up. They were going to go on a supply run and I was going to head out with them. I needed some things and I didn’t feel like wasting the day here wondering when Luis was going to make his move.

  “You coming with, Mac?” Jason, the younger of the two men, spoke first.

  I nodded, and picked up a crowbar from the small table. We kept all of our zombie-killing weapons near at hand. It seemed like a better idea than people running out to fight only to realize they left their weapons back at their apartments. Every living space had other weapons, but those were guns. Out in the field, we wanted quiet. Guns were a last resort.

  “Good. We could use you.” Bert, the older man, picked
up a baseball bat that had large nails driven through it. “Although,” he continued, “I don’t like leaving my wife alone while Luis and Ramone are around. Almost rather have you here to keep an eye on things.”

  “Don’t go throwing responsibility on me,” I said. “I ain’t here for that.”

  Bert laughed. “Bullshit. I used to be military and you got the look of a certain type of men that used to visit us on an irregular basis, especially when we were in not-so-nice areas. You’re here for that, you can’t help it.”

  I didn’t have a response for that. I knew better than argue with a soldier. Finally, I said, “Push comes to shove, I’ll deal with them both. Deal?”

  Bert nodded. “I have trigger time, but I think you might have made your deal with the devil a long time ago.”

  “Don’t overanalyze. I’m just a man. Let’s get going,” I said. Besides, the Devil handed that deal back a while ago. He didn’t want it.

  We walked over to an apartment that was located in a far corner of the building. The family that was there was just waking up, but they didn’t see us as intruders. They accepted it as a responsibility, and acted as guardians of the exit. There were six of them, a mother, father, three kids, and a grandmother. They weren’t going anywhere soon.

  The small balcony had a telescoping ladder stashed in the corner, and we used it to get to the street. This location was chosen because we could see two streets at the same time. Bert went over first, then Jason, and I went last. I lifted the ladder up, and a pair of small hands grabbed it and pulled it up. The standard running time was two hours. After that, the ladder would come down. If we were early, we’d have to wait. If we were late, we’d have to wait until the same time the next day. There would be no ladder on the third day.

  “Jason, you’re youngest. You pick,” Bert said.

  “North,” Jason said.

  “And away we go. Mac, on your left,” Bert said.