After Genocide: The Dead Live Again Read online

  After Genocide

  By: Jose Rodriguez

  & Jose ‘Six’ Walle

  This is for those who enjoy The Walking Dead and reading a post-apocalyptic tale about a group of survivors who are dazed then this is for you. Also if you wondered what the Mexican version of The Walking Dead would be like well this is for you; or if you have followed the R.E.D series then this is also for you. We hope you enjoy this book and hope you read the ones that follow in the After Genocide series.

  Warmly,

  Jose Rodriguez & Jose ‘Six’ Walle

  Part One:

  The Dead Live Again

  Ch.1: Mysterious Happening

  The day starts off lonely with the cold weather striking the way a snake takes a bit and injects it’s venom into the prey; I wake up from a deep sleep finding myself on a couch in a living room of a house I can’t recognize. From what I can see the sun is out but it is made clear that nobody else is with me. A gust of wind passes by and there is a whistling sound made as it enters the small open window. A white bed, an old refrigerator, a television a .45 magnum revolver, some bullets and a white dusty fan, this is all I can see, wait a magnum? I get up taking my steps carefully, then a voice startles me.

  “You’re awake,”—he clears his throat—“not surprising at all.”

  “What is this place,” I ask. “Just a place I like to call home,” replies the man. “My name is Juan Garza,” he says.

  Juan Garza, I thought, the name is strikingly familiar, but yet I can’t get the grasp of it. I keep thinking, then I ask, “Did you by any chance graduate from Edcouch-Elsa High School.”

  “Yeah, so you remember me,” he asks.

  “Yeah I think I remember you…We had lunch at the same table with the same gang right? Um, what happened? The last thing I remember is somebody dragging me,” I say.

  “Something about the military that’s what happened. They had a serum that made any human almost invincible; incredible strength, intelligence like a machine. Immune to almost every disease and virus known to man, aging is no problem since it kept people nice and young for over fifty years. But there is a problem…something went wrong when testing it, instead of helping, it made things worse. It spread like a strong virus, airborne, making any person their skin inside out, an ugly mutation of any kind; however, one simple bite from an infected person and it wouldn’t be long before the infected became mutated.”

  “In a matter of moments the military sent their troops to evacuate cities of the wretched plague, but by the time they came…. It is too late. This is the basic information the news reporters told us, well that and before they went off the air they mentioned something called Project After Genocide or something like that. Somebody else might have more information,”—he looks around as if paranoid—“on my way home I found you crashed in a ditch so I decided to pull you out and keep you safe.”

  “What about the firearm,” I ask. “The revolver is yours my friend, use it on anyone or anything that is infected,” he replies. He kept silent, something in his eyes told me more than he wanted to let out, is he hiding something?

  “There is one other thing, before we part ways,”—he tosses me a large hunting knife and a picture—“what is with the picture?” It is me and a woman side by side as if we are more than friends, the looks in our eyes is like magic but the setting is unrecognizable to me at this moment, why? There is writing on the back, ‘return to’ and the rest is horribly faded away. Who was I before all this take place, what led to this event?

  We shake hands, “Goodbye old friend, find salvation or become the salvation for those without it,” says Juan.

  “Thanks buddy, you take care of yourself,” I say.

  “Oh and you’ll need this,” throwing me a holster for the revolver and with that he went outside, enters a dark blue truck and he leaves. I enter the restroom and open the sink faucet, water comes pouring. I run my hands through the fresh liquid feeling every bit of volume, almost savoring it the way a drunk savors the taste of alcohol. I begin rinsing my face by splashing water on it. I look at the mirror, long wavy hair, kind of muscular, brown shirt, black cargo pants, a black belt and a black leather jacket.

  I return to the living room and pick up the revolver, inserted bullets and put the rest in the right pocket of my jacket. I walk out of the house down some small stairs and step on the ground. I hear a whine, I look down and see a dog, colored black and brown. I glance at the dog, it has a note attached to its red collar.

  Grabbing the note I read it, “Joe, this dog is found with you, I’m assuming it’s yours or something. Take care of him sincerely Juan.” I look at the collar, “Blade,” I ask myself. “Blade,” I say, and the dog gives a happy bark as if he is glad I recognize him again. I begin to walk through the long dirt road that leads me out of the land and house, I begin removing my leather jacket, strap the holster on then place the revolver respectively in the leave side. I put my jacket back on to keep me warm; the temperature is probably fifty-five degrees Fahrenheit at the highest, it is late November. Something causes minor discomfort in my other jacket pocket so I search it and find a nice sheath for the knife. I sheathe the hunting knife then with some string I tie a not around my belt for it.

  Blade follows behind me wherever I walk until it happens, my own personal experience facing a mutated human.

  A car approaches us as we are walking down the street, a silver Nissan Maxima. The driver brakes at the stop sign, so I figure he is being kind enough to give us a ride, but then I thought about what Juan said “Use it on anyone that is infected.” I reach for the revolver in the left holster.

  The driver lowers his window and reveals a man in his mid-thirties, with short brown hair, a small mustache and dressed professionally. He looks at me and speaks, “Excuse me, do, do, do you need a ride,” he stuttered. Blade begins to growl; warning the driver; “Sir, are you alright?” I ask calmly. A little fear kicks in as the strangest thing happens next.

  The man’s eyes roll over and he starts seizing violently, I open the door and the man falls to the ground, still seizing. The revolver in my right hand, I pull the holster back and slowly begin to aim. The man begins to yell in horrible pain, and as it happens and his voice begins to change.

  The top layer of skin begins to peel off like psoriasis, he now bleeds from his eyes, large sharp nails begin to grow along with teeth then everything stops.

  I hear snarling, growling yet my arm is steady with my revolver in place, one finger ready on the trigger still aiming at the man. He comes at me with amazing speed that I don’t have a shot at him. He tries to slash me with his sharp nails and I dodge it. I try to get another shot, but as I aim he knocks it away to the road. He comes at me still slashing, but I dodge every attempt he makes at my flesh.

  All of a sudden, Blade begins to bite the mutated man on the leg. I take that time to unsheathe my hunting knife then stab him in the head. The knife goes in almost smoothly and his face is still, blood drips from the temporal region where the knife is inserted and then I remove it. I should be shocked almost, frozen if you will but somehow this feels like a reflex for me. The man falls to the ground and Blade sniffs the mutated man and whines, “It’s, okay boy, you did good,” I say.

  I kick the body just to be sure, yes, it is dead alright. I grab my revolver from the cold asphalt road and place it in the holster again. My knife covered with some blood, I simply clean it on my pant then insert it in the sheath. I take a peek into the car and opened the driver side door.

  “Whoa, nice ride,” I say. I open the back door and give Blade a command: “c’mon boy.” Blade hops on the back seat. I start the ignition and look through the gl
ove compartment, but there is only ammunition for a shotgun.

  “Shotgun ammunition,” I ask myself puzzled, I look back and spot the black Benelli M4 tactical shotgun on the floor of the back seat. Only officers of the law utilized these, this man is a cop in his day.

  “Wow, now isn’t this a nice surprise,” I say as I pick up the shotgun and stared at it. I placed the shotgun on the floor of the passenger seat aiming in a safe direction, put the gear on drive and begin driving. I pass the stop sign and enter the highway. Ahead I see a new Wal-Mart that was recently built. I drive for about five minutes, then make a right turn on a street that is a small short cut to the store Fiesta. The neighborhood is deserted almost just going to pick up some supplies or anything I could find really. As I drive it hits me, a person walking through the street, a walk so slow, so persuasive. It is a feminine figure, as I get closer I can see brown curly hair twirled around, an orange t-shirt, blue jean pants, black and white colored converse shoes.

  I begin to decrease the speed until I get close enough to make contact; “Hey would you like a ride,” I offer and she just looks at me. She has these eyes of sadness like if they had seen torture yet she turns to me and nods.

  I step on the brake and open the passenger door so she can get in. I continue driving until a small alarm began to blare, it is the fuel, and it is almost on empty.

  “We have to fill up on gas,” I say.

  The girl is quiet as if trying to sink away in her sorrow of this life that is leave, I can only imagine what she is going through right now, like a piece of body part is yanked away, but what could I say to her: Don’t worry the sun is still shining or hey if you like we could find a quiet place and you know? I pull over by the gas pump on the Fiesta and wait as the car begins to make a weird sound, clunk, clunk, clunk, and then fades. “What’s your name?” the girl asks.

  “Joe.”

  “My name is Pamela, but you can call me Pam.” she replies.

  I nod to acknowledge.

  “Okay it’s a pleasure to meet you Pam,” I say and put my hand in front of her as in to give a handshake, she puts a small smile and shakes my hand lightly.

  “Look I know you are not too comfortable with me right now but I could use your help,” I say.

  “I’m sorry it’s just that it’s been so hard,” Pam say then a few tears fall from her eyes.

  “Hey what’s wrong?” I ask.

  “I lost everything,” she say and continued crying.

  “Hey now, what happened?”

  “I just get back from upstate, my family, boyfriend and friends gave me a welcome home party and then all of this happened. Those things attacked everybody, I barely escaped and I remained hiding in a small convenient store, little by little local news channels began to go down until there is no news at all. The military spoke about Project After Genocide and soon there is just a bright flash of light in the air as helicopters swept the area and shot everybody in sight. So much bloodshed, the smaller cities remain almost intact, but the bigger areas are like ground zero for this mess.”

  “Why did all of this have to happen?” she asks and continued to cry. I grab her hands with mine and look her in the eyes, “Hey, I know how you feel, it’s a lot of pain, but you have to be strong and fight, you need to survive okay.”

  “Why do I need to survive?”

  “Because I found you, and everything happens for a reason. Survive with me, we’ll take care of each other okay. Side by side until we can figure this mess out,” I say. Perhaps it is my word of confidence she finds interesting or just the fact that I pick her up because she began to calm down a little, it is almost as if I could hear the heartbeat echo and the pulse throbbing around, yet she wiped her tears, “okay, but what if you die?” she asks.

  “I won’t,” I reply.

  “I hate to ruin this touching moment but this car needs gas in order to move somewhere else, so let’s check if these pumps have any gas leave,” I say.

  Pam and I step out of the vehicle and look around, the weather now a little cloudy as the day take more form, and it look like a thick fog bank is approaching.

  The temperature dropped another five degrees from its original status in the early morning, and the time advanced. I grab the magnum revolver and check it, all six rounds are still there.

  Pam pulls out the shotgun and loads it with shotgun shells, she looks at me and I look at her, “Do want the revolver?” I ask. Pam stared at me and lifted her leave eyebrow and say “Why?”

  “Because I prefer to use shotgun more than anything,” I reply. It almost looks like she hesitates for a split second, as if trying to guess why I is asking her for it but in the end she agrees, “Sounds like a deal.”

  We close the doors and I walk to the passenger side and we traded weapons, “Okay, so now what?” she asks.

  “It looks like we have to turn the pump on from the inside,” I say.

  “Wait, you want us to go inside?”

  “Well yeah, I mean it is the only way. It’s that or we can walk through this fog? Take your pick?” I ask.

  “Lead the way,” Pam agreed. Pam gives me a look about the dog in the back seat, “Blade, take care of the car,” I order.

  I walk forward, making the entrance doors of the Fiesta my goal, and Pam follows closely. We walk carefully until we get close, we stop, double check our weapons, and look at each other, “You ready,” I ask.

  “Yeah,” she replies but I can see it in her face, the fear of those things as she called them earlier. True they were scary, besides it is not long since my first encounter with them, or is it? Carefully grabbing the door handle I try to pull it, there is the sound of rubber hitting and the bell that normally chimes with glee and peacefully is now heard like a siren throughout the store. If a mutant thing is here it would have heard the sound.

  Slowly I open the door completely, Pam still behind me, aiming the revolver; the lights are on, but there is a large amount of blood on the counter, scattered through the floor, and some of the freezer doors are open, and the glass appears broken.

  “Wow, what a mess,” I say.

  “Yeah, it’s like some animal came here and just mauled everybody,” Pam agrees.

  The store now beginning to smell of decay and death, how an animal smells after three days out in the summer heat. The stench of blood mixed with feces takes effect as well. Pam covers her nose with one hand and holds the gun in the other. There is a strange feeling now coming over me, the feeling of being stalked crosses my mind. In the deep distance, we are being watched by a predator, quietly moving, trying not to make a sound to disturb us. It has a taste for human flesh, it smells our blood and it wants our fresh meat.

  I walk towards an aisle full of gum and other candy bars, then it happens. I hear a snarl so I turned back, pulled my shotgun in place and prepare to fire. The creature beat me to it knocking the shotgun off my hands and pushed me back. My shotgun flew a few feet to the aisle across, the creature comes at me, its sharp claws, it’s messed up skin, teeth wanting to chew at my flesh. It tries to slash me, but I move back, then it tries the same attack again. I grab anything I can find to throw at it, potato chips, candy bars, beer bottles, soda cans, but it only made the creature angrier.

  The creature roared at me then it tried to slash me again, it missed, and I gave it a kick in the gut and I did a spin kick and sent it a few feet back. The creature managed to get back on its feet quickly then it leaped at me and made me fall to the floor, it tries to take a bite out of my head, and I put my legs on its stomach and send it flying back. Pam looking for a clear shot, “Pam don’t just stand there shoot it, shoot it!” I yelled. Pam holding the magnum fires one shot to the neck, the loud bang goes out the way a firework sounds through the January sky.

  “No, shoot it in the head!” I yell, and Pam aims the heavy magnum with her hand then puts another underneath to help balance. Her arm begins to get sore instantly and weak, but she takes another shot and this time hits the arm.

>   I manage to reach my knife and stab it at the creature in the chest, my original aim to the head missed. The creature now still coming strong against me and Pam walks closer now as I struggle to remove my knife from its chest. Pam aims again as she get closer then fires one last round. A loud thump sound is heard as the head fills with one hold as the .45 round goes through the creature’s skull. The body falls on mine, weak and cold, I relax now breathing better; then remove my knife and find my shotgun.

  Pam looks then apologizes for not being able to help earlier. I dismiss her apology, it’s not her fault for sure; she just needs better training after all who is prepared for this genocide.

  “Thank you,” she says.

  “No need to thank me yet,” I say then I hop over the counter and turn the pumps on and put an amount of fifty dollars’ worth in fuel.

  “Okay, this is our ticket out of this place” I say. Pam and I walk out of the store and I open the car’s gas cap, select Unleaded Fuel and began to pump the gas.

  “What is going to happen now?” asks Pam.

  “We are going to find an old friend of mine, hopefully he still lives where he lived perhaps he has more answers.”

  Ch.2: The Truth?

  Pam and I get inside the car, I start the engine, shifted the gear to drive and we begin to exit the store‘s parking lot. We head out to the main road, pass a red light, and continue driving straight. The city of Elsa is deserted almost, it is quiet not even the birds’ sing today. I tune the radio and switch through the stations, Pam tries to hear anything but just some static then a radio transmission; the electronic whirring and static makes it hard to pinpoint the voice. It comes and goes in echoes.

  “Help,”—static break—“the mall,”—breaks again,--“survivors,”—another break and the last piece before going out—“McAllen Texas.”

  Along the way I begin to reduce speed on the vehicle, we came closer to my friend’s house.