Jason Campagna: White Ash on Bone: A Zombie Novel

Someone opened their car door, and it slammed into Donna’s side knocking her over. She felt stinging shock in her hands when she attempted to break her fall. The jolt of impact went through her body as the rest of her mass connected with the solid pavement of Main Street. Her upper lip tingled, and she tasted blood mixed with motor exhaust.

Donna tried to get back up but was knocked over again by people running by. She crawled around to the back of a car and managed to pull herself up.

She turned to look back at the park to see the mob had grown, and forms continued to pour of the Court House.

Butler County’s finest fired shot after shot into the mob only to find gnashing teeth tearing at them. Screams filled the air, and people were ripped apart.

There is a funny thing about people when they watch disasters in person. When people are in danger, they will run only as far as they can turn around and watch whatever crisis is unfolding. To the undead, this acts only to create an ever-expanding wave of carnage following their prey.

The mob of undead filtered into the stopped traffic. They smashed their way into cars still occupied by their drivers. Window after window popped to the sound of breaking glass.

One shocked woman walked up to the mob in a dazed state. “Why are you doing this?” she asked.

They answered her question by knocking her over the hood of a blue sub-compact. She screamed for help, but the undead clawed at her. Her arms flailed and beat at her attackers.

She screamed in agony; everyone watching viewed the woman’s detached leg hoisted into the air by the dead. Dozens of hands momentarily pawed at the flesh until they realized it was no longer part of the living.

A new reality dawned upon the watching crowd. They ran in horror, leaving their own wake of carnage and devastation in their bid for survival.

Donna ran two blocks North, then down a side street. There were two men fighting in front of an open car door. The vehicle sat at the edge of traffic and looked like it could make it out to the open street behind it. The men were fighting for the car.

Thinking she might also be trying to take the car, one of the men turned on Donna and punched her hard in the face. She fell to the ground. Blackness filled her vision.

The other man pulled a knife on Donna’s attacker and stabbed him repeatedly in the chest. He jumped in the car and drove off.

A nearby couple had seen Donna get attacked and went to her aid. Donna’s eyes rolled, semi-conscious. They picked her up and carried her half a block where they found people piling into a red pickup. The couple managed to pass her off to the people in the bed of the truck.

On the corner behind the couple, the undead emerged. The driver of the pickup truck hit the gas before the couple had a chance to get in. They couple ran for their lives trying to catch up. “Wait you bastards,” the man screamed at the truck.

Inside the truck, the driver asked the other passengers, “Do you think she could be one of those fucking crazy people?” No one answered. They had all seen people who appeared injured attacking other people.

The driver slammed on the breaks bringing the truck to a stop. They placed Donna next to a dumpster along the sidewalk. They sped off, leaving Donna knocked out. The dark held no peace for her. She dreamed of a naked Deputy Rodgers, blood smeared across his chest, coming after her.

More than an hour passed while Donna lay there. She heard a voice asking the same question again and again. It slowly brought her back to reality.

A pair of dark eyes asked her, “Did they bite you?”

“I, ahhh, no they didn’t,” she heard her own voice mumble.

Donna’s vision blurred again, and darkness threatened to overtake her. She felt sore all over and tasted the tinge of blood in her mouth.

“Do you know what is going on?” the man asked.

Donna’s head spun while the man tried to keep her awake by talking to her. She noticed wetness from what must be tears falling down her face. Her mouth felt dry. “I was at the court house and had just returned from my lunch break…,” Donna told him her story.

###

Jack listened to her; he could see her regain some of her composure. Each word seemed to help her back from the abyss of a confused mind. When she finished talking, he offered his hand. "I'm Jack Cotta. What's your name?"

"Donna Greco," she said. "Where am I?"

"I was driving back from the YMCA and saw some women attacking an old man,” Jack said. “I stopped my car to see what was going on. When I was halfway out of the car, I noticed they were biting huge chunks out of the guy. They were like animals. It was a feeding frenzy. I looked across the intersection and saw the same scene being played out everywhere for blocks."

"What did you do?" Donna said.

Jack sighed. "I did the only thing that made sense. I got back into the car and locked the doors. I hung a right and sped off to the West end of town trying to get home. That’s where I came across you. There was a traffic accident near Doughboy Park. It looked like a number of cars were in a big pile up at the intersection. I got blocked in the traffic, so I pulled up on the sidewalk and decided to ditch my vehicle. I hopped out of the car and noticed you crumpled up in a ball. You were covered in glass from one of the vehicles. So I dragged you into the bar. Welcome to the Manhattan by the way."

Donna picked herself off the floor and scanned the room. The wooden bar was roughly in the shape of a triangular island; it was located the middle of the establishment. Round stools outlined the bar. They reminded her of piers at a dock. A random mix of circular and square shaped tables sat scattered around the perimeter of the Manhattan. The air carried the scent of cigarette ash and stale beer.

"I would have the bartender get you drink,” Jack said. “Believe me; I think we could both use it. But at the moment, he's being eaten by a couple of neighborhood kids across the street."

Jack searched behind the bar and pulled out a rag. He walked over to a sink and turned on the faucet. He soaked the rag under a stream of hot water and offered the rag to her.

"Here, you can use this to clean up with."

Donna took the cloth and felt the warmth in her hands. She brought it up and buried her face in its relieving heat.

"The way I see it," Jack said, "you have two options." "You can come with me, or you can lock this place up and stay here."

"You're going back out there?" Donna said.

"Yeah, I have to," he said. "My house is just a few blocks away, and my cat is there. Don’t worry though, she doesn't bite."

The statement made Donna think back to Jack's earlier question. "Why did you ask if I’d been bitten?" Donna said.

"Well, when you were out of it, more of those crazies showed up. I’ve been watching them through the peephole in the door. They don’t seem to attack each other from what I can tell. But like the bartender over there, after people are chewed on, they seem to get up after awhile and join the crazies.”

"I saw the same thing at the courthouse," Donna replied. "I don’t get it; no one should be able to get up after that."

"Donna, there is a lot I don’t get about today. I’m not going to hang out here defenseless and try and figure it out. I could be doing that at home with my guns. So what is it going be, you coming with, or staying?"

She thought about it a minute. “I don’t want to be alone, but I don’t see how we’re going to make it out of here with all those things out there. The cops couldn’t stop them.”

Jack gestured her to the peephole. "Before you woke up, a big Mac truck came though and pushed some of those cars out of the way. It seems to have freed my car on the sidewalk. It’s all a matter of getting to my car while hauling ass as fast as possible."