Jason Campagna: White Ash on Bone: A Zombie Novel

A door opened to a house directly behind the armless man, and the elderly widow, Mrs. McDermit, emerged from her house. Jack could hear her ask the man if he was hurt.

“Oh god,” Jack gasped.

The armless man turned and began moving in the direction of McDermit.

Donna set the cat down and moved to the window. She parted the blinds and watched as the man closed in on the old lady. “Jack, we have to help her,” Donna said, but Jack was already rushing down the stairs.

He burst through the front door of his home and ran across the street. He could see he was not going to make it in time. McDermit was already a crumpled mass under the creature’s form.

Using all his momentum, Jack sent the ghoul crashing into the porch railing with a well-placed kick. The railing cracked under the ghoul’s weight and the one-armed man went through it.

The creature rose, this time with its attention directed at Jack. The lifeless eyes of the ghoul fixed on Jack as it moved forward. The one remaining arm of the ghoul reached out at Jack. Its lips parted to reveal teeth covered in fat laden flesh from McDermit.

Jack felt his guts turn, and fear sent pain shooting up and down his spine. Nearly panicked, he reached for his .45 while he backed up away from the ghoul.

Donna screamed, “Look out for the curb,” but it was too late. Jack could already feel himself tripping over it.

Hitting the ground, Jack desperately scrambled in reverse across the brick street. The ghoul was looming closer.

Jack realized he couldn’t escape the creature, and he went for the gun again.

The holster yielded the weapon as the ghoul closed in. At the last instant, the gun erupted. Jack placed a round directly into the chest of the creature.

The 1911 handgun was designed for military use. Not only would it put a bullet through you, but it had power enough to throw a charging enemy backwards. True to its nature, it threw the creature over backwards on the ground; it also blew out a section of its chest.

Jack used the time to scramble up on one knee and he re-leveled the gun at his target; it was still moving. The one arm of the ghoul fought and found the leverage to pull its ravaged body erect. Another explosion from Jack’s gun hurled the creature to the ground. The impact sent a section of its face going in a different direction. The zombie again moved to stand back up.

“Fuck this,” Jack screamed as he aimed the next round straight at the ghoul’s head. The round blew the remaining portion of the head into gruesome mixture of bone and brain matter on the brick.

Jack pulled himself off the ground and noticed McDermit getting up. She looked at him with the same glazed eyes the other man had. “Shit, Mrs. McDermit, you deserve better than this, I’m sorry.”

McDermit’s only answer was her fixed stare as she moved on Jack. Jack knew he had only two rounds left in the clip, so he let McDermit close the distance before he pulled the trigger. The gun thundered. He placed a merciful round in her head ending whatever nightmare had overcome her.

Donna hastened to Jack on the street, and she pulled on his arm. “There are several more down the street,” she said. Jack allowed himself to be led back into the house without another word.

Chapter Three

Paul Sulla was not a typical elected official. At the age of 21 he became the youngest person to be serving in office in Pennsylvania. His election to the office of Township Supervisor was narrowly won by two votes after a long door-to-door campaign.

In his campaign flyers, Paul featured himself sitting on his father’s green John Deere tractor. The flyer read, “Community values, one generation to the next. The Sulla family had been farming in the area for the last seventy some years but had never taken an interest in politics until now. He decided to run for office after his mother lost a five year battle to breast cancer. Before her death, she told Paul that she always pictured him making a career in politics. The election caused quite a stir at the time in Penn Township, but a few years had passed since then.

Paul had put on a couple of years and a rather dashing goatee since then. He enjoyed serving his community on the three-member board. Every Friday, Paul would head in to the township office to sign checks so that the municipality could pay its bills. Paul would usually go in to the office in the morning, but a friend was having issues with wiring on a boat. Paul agreed to help his friend fix the problem.

What Paul had thought would be an easy fix turned out to be a wiring nightmare. The morning hours had bled away, and time rolled well past lunch before Paul figured out that someone had reversed the positive and negative leads on the boat.

Paul said his goodbyes to his friend and headed into the township office where, George, the township secretary would likely have the checks waiting to be signed.

George had been recently hired by the municipality to replace the manager who had just retired. While still new, George was fairly meticulous with his accounting background but had zero experience dealing with anything emergency related. In fairness, it was his third week on the job.

Sulla parked his car by the building’s flagpole and headed for the front office of the township building. George rushed out into the parking lot to meet him.

"Thank god you’re here," George said. "I can't reach anyone, and I don’t know what to do."

Sulla with a serious look on his face asked, "What's going on?"

"There’s something happening in downtown Butler,” George said. “I don’t know what, but I can't reach our emergency services. We received a number of calls from the Butler County EOC asking for assistance from every local police and fire department. We responded, and our guys went to help."

The township had a long-standing mutual-aid agreement with its neighboring municipalities. It was not unusual for situations to arise where officers would render such aid.

"Paul," George said, "It's been hours since any of our people have responded on the radio.”

"Have you been able to get in contact with the other supervisors?" Sulla asked.

"No, they’re both at their regular jobs in Pittsburgh, and the phones are jammed," George said.

"Well, I guess it is on me then," Sulla said. A few minutes later, George joined Paul in the police department section of the building. Paul turned the volume of the police radio up, and they both began to listen.

"Mall Command Center to EOC, we have about 30 personnel, 800 civilians, and 60 injuries. We are turning all southbound traffic around north of the mall, and we are directing refugees into the food court here. EOC, we are requesting an update on those ambulances."

"This is EOC, we copy that. We're negative on ambulances to your position at this time. We do not have communications with Butler Hospital. Slippery Rock Hospital should be considered the new evacuation site for your injured."

Sulla grabbed the microphone and pressed the push to talk button, "This is Penn Township requesting any information on our dispatched emergency service personnel."

"EOC to Penn, it’s good to hear from you. Negative on any information, we are just as in the dark as you at the moment. Penn, we are requesting that you turn all North bound traffic around on Route 8, and that you prepare for civilian refugees fleeing the city. One last thing, there are reports of rioting so make sure your people are armed."

"George, call the guys from down in the road department and get them up here. Load up every gun, flare, and walkie-talkie we got into one of the squad cars. Have them meet me down at the restaurant on Route 8. Tell them I want traffic turned around at the southern edge of the township. I also want all of our trucks loaded up with any Jersey Barriers we have, and get them to the restaurant as well."