Severed- Myths and Legends-Volume 2

Severed Volume 2

Myths and Legends

by

Darren
Sant
& Sam Lang

********

Published by Trestle Press

Copyright 2011 Darren
Sant
& Sam Lang

Kindle Edition, License Notes

This
ebook
is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This
ebook
may not be sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you're reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, please return to Amazon and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

*********

Travelling Companions

In the long line of people happy to have put New York City in their rear view mirror, Judy stood at the front. Of course, the Big Apple had changed over the past few years. It had gone rotten to the core and then came the zombie problem.

Judy
Brantwood
, born in Ohio, moved to New York to put her BA in Marketing to good use. She had an attractive figure, but a sharper mind. Straight out of college, she landed her dream job with one of the biggest firms in the country. Almost like the plot of a cheesy romantic comedy, she suddenly found herself as the lead for her company’s biggest client, Health-Pharm.

Coming from a small town in Ohio, building a campaign around a “farm” was second nature. Judy almost single-handedly put EZ-Thin pills on the tip of everyone’s tongues, figuratively speaking. She had read the research and she had many meetings with the somewhat off-putting CEO, Randall
Bueller
. She escaped those meetings, unscathed from his lewd sexual advances. EZ-Thin pills were proven safe.
Bueller
had given his word.

His word turned out to be worthless.

It wasn’t until after the first attacks that Judy learned the human trial results had been faked. She accidentally discovered a memo about a vault in the basement of Health-
Pharm
where
Bueller
ordered the first victims to be locked away. The senior executives copied her on almost everything, but she was not supposed to know about the peculiar side effects of EZ-Thin.

After that, Judy
Brantwood’s
dream ended. Her expensive world crashed down around her. It felt like it happened overnight and New York was gone. She tried to survive in her Madison Avenue apartment. The continuous sound of people being eaten alive drove her out of the city. She knew not everyone died with the initial onslaught. Pockets of survivors banded together. She watched them in the streets, trying to fight the zombies.

Her keen intellect told her to get out of town, so Judy split. She had to get somewhere safe. With the first winter coming on NYC like a heavy weight boxer taking on a welter weight contender, she did not expect the city would last more than a few rounds.

With the passing of a few years, Judy had become self-sustaining. She kept moving and opted to stay on her own. One day, she discovered that she was in Orlando. She hadn’t been to Florida since she was a kid, the required family vacation. Now, she had no family to share it with, only herself to keep alive.

Judy sat on the balcony of a recently vacated apartment, staring out over Lake Cherokee. She did not know it was called Cherokee. She did not pay attention to things like that any longer. All she cared about these days was keeping those rotting hands from around her throat.

In her new digs, Judy found a half-hidden diary.
Some boy’s journal.
She thought of him as a boy, because the journal stated he was nineteen. However, as she studied
Zac’s
handwriting and processed his words, she knew he was as much of a man as any she had ever known, even if he was ten years younger than her. Judy deduced that
Zac
and two of his children had spent a few days in this apartment, judging by the used diapers in the kitchen trash can. She did not expect them to be coming back any time soon.

To her surprise, someone, or something, started pounding on the roughly barricaded apartment door. Judy panicked. She had let herself get cornered. She did not think the zombies followed her into the complex. They could not have smelled her all the way up here. She knew the walkers would give up on a solid door after a few attempts. This one continued to rattle and pound, until she thought the wood would splinter.

Finally the door popped open. Judy grabbed the nearest item for defense, an umbrella. Good choice, she sarcastically told herself. Luckily, Judy did not need the weapon. She looked into the face of a man in a boy’s body. He carried a baby in a crude sling over his shoulder and chest. Next to him stood the dirtiest girl Judy had ever seen. The poor thing’s blonde hair matted down to her head with who knew what grime.

Judy knew who she was looking at. She did not have to refer back to the journal for the names
Zac
and Holly. Judy had no concern for the undead out in the streets right now or where she would get her next meal. Her only thought came out in a question.

“Did you name your baby yet?”

Zac
looked at her in shock. He must not have made the connection that she read his journal. A brief explanation from Judy helped him understand.

“I’m not giving him a name until I’m back with Liz,” said the hardened youth. Judy looked at the dark curls surrounding his head. The baby boy had a tiny matching set.

“Do you think she went south with Matthew?” Judy asked.

“I plan to find out. We gathered the last of our supplies. If we can find a working car, or maybe some bicycles, we are leaving for the turnpike today,” explained
Zac
.

“Towards Miami?” said Judy.

“Then Key Largo or Key West. However far it takes. You can come with us if you want,” said
Zac
.

Judy considered the boy.
Considered his offer.
She had made a life on her own in this nightmare. She did not know if she was ready to travel with anybody. The thoughts turned her mind back to New York. Back to what she called the Dark Days, before she got out. Back then, she thought she could turn to someone powerful like
Bueller
, in his tall, glass fortress. The guards with their machine guns would not let anyone, human or otherwise, close to the building when things started to get really bad. Judy remembered another misfit group of survivors. She almost went to them, but ended up on her own. She let her memories of New York carry her back to those Dark Days. She thought about the self-created legend of Randall
Bueller
. She thought about the myth of superheroes.

A Legendary Headache

Randall
Bueller
, Randy to his friends, sighed and rubbed his forehead.
Always with the fucking distractions.
It was like managing a bunch of children. What do we do about it Randy? Boss, we have a problem on the east wall. Randy, water is running low. For five years, they endlessly whined about this and that. Now to top it all, the last thing he needed in his private community with limited resources was a greedy sneak thief. He sat up straight, fixed his false smile, lit a fresh cigar and pressed the intercom.

“Send him in.”

The guards brought in a dishevelled man from the lower levels. His mandatory ID badge proclaimed him a Level Two resident, very small fish indeed. He looked to be in his late forties, but more ragged and sallow than his age should allow. His cheeks had the hollowed look of the malnourished and his clothes were little more than rags. Despite this he was struggling valiantly against the guards.

“The thief, sir.
A Mister Ernest Miller.”

Randy tried not to let the disgust for this creature show. It was tiresome being a bloody diplomat all the time.

“What do you have to say for yourself Mr. Miller? We have footage of you stealing food from a market stall in the compound.”
Bueller
gestured towards a bank of cameras on the wall in his office. “The camera never lies.”

“It’s my daughter sir. She’s starving. Doc Mendez says she needs more vitamins. Our rations just aren’t enough. She’s very weak sir.”

Bueller
pressed a
button,
Miller’s file appeared on the screen built into his desk. He clicked and displayed a picture from Miller’s daughter’s ID file.
Long shapely legs, a good figure.
Randy thought
yes, I can find a great use for her
. He took a look at Miller and regarded him with eyes as cold as steel and as black as a politician’s soul.

“It’s your lucky day Mr. Miller. I’m willing to increase her rations at the expense of your own. Code
Five
boys. Take him away.”

Miller tried to protest, but one of the guards pistol whipped him and Randy
tutted
as Ernest’s dragged feet left a dirty mark on his carpet. Code Five meant permanent relocation, ejection from the compound without the option to return. Miller wouldn’t realize it, of course, until they had him settled in the small room with the trapdoor that would throw him to the hard sidewalk like so much discarded trash in the back alley.

Bueller
fished a couple of codeine tablets from a sterling silver pill box in his desk drawer and washed them down with a glass of ice chilled water from his private cooler. Hopefully that was another headache sorted. He tapped away at his terminal and upped the level of Miss
Yasmine
Miller to Level Four. She would get more food at that level and he’d call her up to his office and console her on the strange disappearance of her old Dad. Doctor Mendez, he moved down a level with just a few keystrokes. That idiot had sown dissent with his comments and that just would not do. If he didn’t toe the line, he too would soon be zombie fodder.

Outside the Chrysler Tower a full moon shone down upon a frightened wide eyed Miller, huddled and cowering in an alleyway as the nightly screams grew louder.

The Myth of Happiness

How could something so massive, so monumental, feel so claustrophobic? Rick wondered that as he looked up at the empty buildings towering over him, blocking out the sky. The entire city used to be alive with so much excitement. Now it was only a graveyard strewn with rotting, walking corpses.

It was his graveyard and he had to protect it. Rick, as Kid Bolt, swore an oath to defend his domain from Brooklyn to the Bronx and everything in between. People still lived here, if one could call it living, and they needed saving.

Maybe Kid Bolt started as a joke. Maybe it was a way to protect
himself
from bullies in high school. The secret identity gave Rick an escape, an outlet for his frustration. When he put on his mask and blue jumpsuit, he could defend others from the torment he was helpless to endure. Rick’s first 50,000 volt
taser
put the power of lightning in his hands and then Kid Bolt became real. In his mind, he was a superhero. He would fight for justice and defend the weak.

Something echoed down the block. It sounded like a stick tapping on concrete. The sound shook Rick from painful memories of juvenile torture. He looked to his sidekick, Star Cluster. The silver duct tape that made the randomly chosen Star of David danced across her black cape with the sick smelling breeze. Kid Bolt knew not to call her his sidekick.
Powerfist
had tried that once and it ended with a swift kick to the balls. Since that day, the whole team secretly referred to Star Cluster as Nut Buster.