I Dream of Zombies Read online

  I Dream of Zombies

  by

  Imogene Nix

  I Dream of Zombies

  Copyright © 2019, Imogene Nix

  ISBN: 9781949300420

  Publisher: Beachwalk Press, Inc.

  Electronic Publication: June 2019

  Editor: Pamela Tyner

  Cover: Fantasia Frog Designs

  eBooks are not transferable. No part of this book may be used or reproduced without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations in articles and reviews.

  This book is a work of fiction and any resemblance to persons, living or dead, or places, events or locales is purely coincidental. The characters are productions of the author’s imagination and used fictitiously.

  Back Cover Copy

  What if the zombie plague careening through Australia was the result of a government conspiracy? One that goes all the way to the highest levels.

  Seasoned Mission Specialist Julia Carter lost her mother and sister to the virus, and she’s sure her stepfather is involved. The only question is how. When she’s given a team to lead into Canberra to retrieve him and a passel of scientists, she’s not happy.

  Complications arise in the form of Damien Leroy, who arrives at Camp Queanbeyan running from the loss of his fiancée. He has secrets that could split apart the fragile networks between the existing camps.

  But when the chips are down and there’s a possible cure on the horizon, things will only get worse.

  Content Warning: contains some graphic fight scenes, a couple who come together against great odds, and sexual content

  Dedication

  This one is for Charlotte. She’s been asking me for years to write a zombie story, and while I wrote The Reset (which is the introduction to the series), this one is written with her in mind. Also for Scott and Shelby cause, you know…ideas!

  Thanks also to Suzi, Keri, and Sassie (my buds), and Tara for the awesome cover.

  Thank you to Mark and Beth and even Mr. Patrick (haha! See you’re now included in the into!)

  Remembering Teddy (my awesome, little, fluffy writing buddy who passed away earlier this year) along with Galilee (Mr. Boofy Pants) and Cocoa.

  Lastly, as always, thanks to you readers. Without you, there’d be no reason to write.

  Chapter 1

  Julia

  Every bone ached. Every. Single. One.

  The narrow bunk in my quarters cradled me with a squeak and a groan as I settled. I sighed and let my body relax as I tugged the single blanket over me.

  Closing my eyes was always a trial as the memories I worked hard to keep at bay flooded my mind.

  Blood. Screams. Reaching, grasping fingers.

  Always the same.

  I lay there and concentrated on sunshine, but within minutes I began to toss and turn. At one point I even tried counting sheep. As usual, nothing worked, and after a long while I clambered off the cot and rose.

  My boots waited just over the edge, and I tugged them on.

  Giving a heartfelt sigh, I headed for the door. The one clean shirt hanging on a peg was disregarded. After all, there was no need to dress up to be in public.

  “Everyone looks the same these days,” I muttered.

  I wrenched the door open and made my way down the long, industrial-green hallway toward the mess area.

  Echoes of voices wafted on the air as I hurried toward the benchtop that held large carafes of water.

  I poured a drink and scanned the information board. I checked the news written in cramped handwriting on the paper hanging there, dated this morning.

  Specialist Team Required. Northlands region. Six to eight well-trained personnel to undertake extraction and retrieval. Enquire at Control Office from 0700 today.

  Huh. I wonder who’s there and why they need extraction?

  Intrigued, I swiveled and craned my head, seeking others I knew and could trust for intel. No one in these times would willingly take on a mission without knowing who and what they were facing. And given some of the ones currently here at the hospital camp, I needed to be picky if I wanted to survive.

  Casey, a fellow female guard, stood at the long, metal benchtop, stirring the meal currently on offer. We all took turns assisting in the kitchen, clean up, and even burial details. I was one who couldn’t cook, so they insisted I wash up, serve, or collect the dirty plates. It suited me to perfection though. Casey was more a hands-on kind of girl and had taken to the whole ‘everyone mucks in’ well and was taking lessons on basic cooking.

  Since the onset of the plague—as we called it—no one worked regular hours. Those who’d survived and made their way to the various encampments were grateful for human company, food, and a secure roof over their head. Canberra alone had at least a dozen camps that I knew of. The most successful one was in an area far removed from here. I’d seen some pictures and talked to those from there but hadn’t ever had the opportunity to meet up with the leaders, Liam and Elaine.

  Our own camp was at least reasonably self-sufficient. In the early days, those who could travel and had farm animals and growing skills were highly sought after. They didn’t take on guard duties either, their contribution deemed far too valuable for that.

  Then there were the few with families, not that many of them had survived. They’d been sequestered to high-security areas in the middle of the camps, and the level of security clearance needed to get to those areas was deemed above my paygrade. At least that was the case here in Queanbeyan.

  From day to day and week to week I rarely saw a child now.

  The memory of my little sister dropped into my mind, and I swallowed hard. The loss that permeated every time I thought of her and my mother never seemed any less painful. My stepfather, Allan, had survived. To this day the acid burn of anger roiled in my gut, because my mind said it was wrong that he’d come out alive, yet my entire family was gone.

  Allan had left the camp well over a month ago and hadn’t returned. I didn’t know where he’d gone—it wasn’t like communication between us was a thing—but the fact that he’d left without even saying goodbye spoke volumes to me about our relationship.

  He’d abandoned his wife and daughter to the tender mercies of…

  “Forget it. Time’s passed.” But the bitterness in my voice never abated when I had this argument with myself.

  I marched swiftly in Casey’s direction.

  “Hey. What’s that?” I inspected the thick, gray mass she kept moving in the pot.

  “Oatmeal.”

  It didn’t look like anything I’d ever eaten before. No chunks of oat or creamy, white consistency here. I tugged my gaze away. “Know anything about the retrieval mission?”

  She cocked an eyebrow. “Maybe.”

  Casey wasn’t a woman of many words, but her shrewd blue gaze was likely weighing up whether I was going to see the camp commander.

  “And?”

  “I don’t know a lot. Someone who once held a senior position in the government went out on a mission and got stuck. Needs an urgent extraction along with some survivors. That’s it.”

  “Hmm. It says Northlands.”

  “You’re from that way, aren’t you, J?”

  I nodded absently. I usually avoided Northland missions, but maybe this was what I needed to clear the remnants of grief from my mind.

  “Gonna put your name down?”

  I shrugged. It didn’t pay to do much more than that, otherwise it would be around the base quicker than the blink of an eye.

  * * * *

  Leroy

  0700

  The clock ticked over the hour, and I blinked once, twice. Just checking in case my tired eyes read it wrong. Since I’d seen the notice on the board, I’d been waiting for the
time to click by. Slowly. Right now, my backside felt numb as I swilled the last of the coffee in the mug in my hands. It was rough and black. I doubted I’d ever get used to that.

  I’d only been at this base for a handful of days. Hanging around one base or another meant making acquaintances, and often that led to friendship. More than once, it had also led to connecting with other humans who died, and I wasn’t going to make that mistake again.

  These days my best and only friends were the gun in my holster and the rifle I carried. I placed the rifle beside me with an audible sound. Clunk.

  I pushed the mug back and rose, the leather of my fingerless gloves rubbing at the webbing between my fingers as I stretched them out and back again.

  “Finished?” the shrewd woman who’d been making the coffee—Casey I think she called herself—asked.

  “Yeah.” I attempted to avoid her gaze while I scanned the room filled with the misfits and detritus of humanity. “Where’s the Control Office?”

  She sniffed and indicated the hallway to the left.

  “Thanks,” I flung over my shoulder as I marched in that direction.

  Team patrols might be the norm, though my experience was that this was an unusual request. Extraction. That hinted of enemy engagement, which was about the high point of my life. Not that I expected my life would be long.

  It was all there was now to look forward to, wasn’t it, though?

  I smiled thinly.

  Before the door sat several chairs. All of them full. Against the wall lounged a group of people. It seemed that the notice had brought out a range of interested people—among them, me.

  I sauntered over and rested my hip on the concrete wall, acting nonchalantly, and let the rifle settle on my shoulder as I summed up those waiting.

  Three men, weary looking with a droop to their mouth. Likely veterans dismayed at the turn their lives had taken.

  Two women huddled together, not talking but obviously comfortable with each other. One had tightly bound, red-gold hair, maybe late twenties, and high cheekbones. The other one was older and appeared to be well-seasoned. Both of them looked at me briefly before turning back to face the wall. The others were a motley assortment of younger men and women of various ages and physiques, but these ones captured my interest.

  Most of the younger men were brawny with close-shaven hair. They all wore similar clothing: the ubiquitous camouflage which had become the norm after the spread of the virus, or plague as many called it.

  Before I could engage any in conversation, the door opened and an older man, clearly with a military background, if his bearing and air were anything to go by, invited us inside.

  He grunted as the last of us entered the room, then he shut the door forcefully and turned to us.

  “Interesting crew. Matthews, Jones, and Forster, you’re not going to be completing this mission.”

  The three elder men, the ones I’d tagged as vets, opened their mouths, but the man in charge raised a hand.

  “I need you here, training the youngsters who are almost ready to hunt.”

  They muttered but took seats at the back of the room, the skin around their mouths tightening. Clearly they felt their usefulness in the field would be a better use of their skills

  “Madderns, you’re needed here too. I need you to work with the younger girls. They need immediate training in self-defense. The older boys are getting restless, and there’s too much interest in the girls right now for me to dismiss the growing problems there.”

  The older woman gave a curt nod and moved to the seats at the back of the room.

  “Now, I know most of you, except…” The look he shot in my direction should have sent my spine tingling with alarm, but instead I raised my chin and eyed him off.

  “I’m Leroy.”

  “And you’re new here, aren’t you, son?”

  Hmm. A hard-ass wannabe military type. “Yes, sir. I’ve been moving between bases from Townsville through to here. I arrived in Queanbeyan five days ago, and I’m looking for a place on your team.”

  His eyes narrowed on me, as if trying to read my reasoning.

  “You need to earn your place. I need six to eight well-seasoned people. Anyone at your previous posts able to vouch for you?”

  “Sure. I can give you some names.” I named the previous five base commanders I’d stayed with. Any would tell him that I’d earned the right to call myself a slayer. It was a term I carried with pride and had inked into a bicep.

  “Fine. If what you tell me is backed up by them, then you’re on the team.”

  He turned away and made a notation on his electronic pad before turning back to us. He picked out those that obviously met his needs, and the others slouched, accepting their dismissal with ill grace.

  “I want you to meet back here at 0700 tomorrow. You’ll need to prepare to be on the road for a minimum of seven to ten days to complete this mission. I’ll update you in the morning on the details. You’re dismissed.”

  The six of us who’d been successful looked at each other. This wasn’t like any team prep I’d ever attended, and judging by the surprised looks on their faces, they were unused to this type of organization too.

  I scratched my chin, the stubble catching on my fingers. “Sir, can you tell us—”

  “Not now, Leroy. Tomorrow. 0700.”

  Dismissed, we filed out of the office.

  I waited until the door was closed then turned and addressed the others. “I’ve never—”

  The single woman of the group shook her head. “Not here. Not now. Meet in the mess hall at 1500 hours, and we’ll discuss it then.”

  The others grunted assent, and I wondered at this woman who exuded leadership so easily for a young person.

  Then she turned and left us there.

  I was also intrigued, perplexed that no one voiced any dissent. Strong women. I smiled. They either made the team work or were quickly replaced.

  With that I turned and headed to the bunkroom I’d been assigned.

  * * * *

  Julia

  I wondered who he was. Where he had come from.

  He had that angry ‘I just want to kill someone’ look about him. I’d seen it dozens of times. I’d also seen the result that came with the loss of care and attention when someone was set on killing. Every time it had come at the cost of someone else’s life.

  The need to question the commander rose, but I swallowed it, intent on learning more about this person before I spoke. So as the others trailed Leroy to his assigned bunkroom, I watched and waited from the corner where I hid.

  He didn’t speak. There was no acknowledgement that he knew anyone was there, and that sent a chill tickling my spine uncomfortably. Over the last few months, I’d come to rely on those senses. They’d kept me alive in a lot of bad situations.

  I made up my mind, stepped out from where I hid, and followed the unknown man to room 205.

  He stopped then turned to me. “What?”

  One single, tersely spoken word.

  I knew all the others in this new team. They were all good fighters, but none of them had leadership potential. I sighed. “Before we head out with you, we need to know who you are. Your history. The motivation for stopping here at Camp Queanbeyan.”

  He cocked his head and stared at me.

  I think it was supposed to make me cower. There wasn’t much anymore that did though. Not after all I’d seen, done, and been through.

  “Why?”

  “Because if you join us, our lives could very well be in your hands. We’ll meet you in the mess hall at 1500 to talk. Be there or expect us to block your membership of the team with the commander.”

  On that note, I spun and strode away. He was watching me though; I felt it. The heat at the back of my neck. Don’t turn around.

  I headed for Commander Dean’s office. I had questions and the seniority to demand answers. Two sharp raps and the door opened.

  The commander peered around the corner of
it. “You took longer than I expected.” The door slid open wider, and I pushed inside.

  “Sir, I have some concerns—”

  “I thought you might.” He frowned. “I’ve made some calls. He’s good. Very good. A qualified sharpshooter and an asset to your team.”

  Sharpshooter. We didn’t have one anymore, not since Jen… I shied away from the thought. Thinking about Jen didn’t help the situation.

  “He might be the best shot in the world, but he has attitudinal issues.” I wasn’t going to pussyfoot around. Right now I needed to state my case and get his decision.

  The commander stared at me. “We can’t afford to be choosy these days. If we did, none of us would make the cut.”

  The gentleness of his words couldn’t disguise the sting of truth. Those words didn’t assuage the pit that opened in my belly. I had seniority, sure, but I also had responsibilities. A lot of my team members had families in the secure zone. They had kids and partners. Someone waiting for them. I took their concerns and lives seriously.

  “You want me to place the lives of my team in his hands.” My lips firmed, while I balled my hands into fists.

  “Yes and no. I want you to be sure before you head out. I want you to lead the team and complete the extraction. It’s imperative we get our operative back here in one piece.”

  I frowned over his word choice. “Operative?”

  The commander slumped into his chair, his fingers tunneling through his salt-and-pepper hair. “Yeah, about that…”

  He waved to the seat before the desk, and I dropped into it, staring at the man I thought had told me everything. After all, wasn’t I the best team leader and tactician here?

  “This mission is sensitive.”

  I considered his words. “So why didn’t you come to me to pick a team?”

  He winced, and I leaned forward.

  “Because of Allan.”

  That was akin to a fist in the stomach. Allan. My stepfather and number one weasel. The bastard worked for the government and was too busy to go home to save my mother and sister.