Dying Shortly Volume 2 Read online

  Dying Shortly

  Volume II

  Zombie Sampler

  by

  Armand Rosamilia

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying or recording or by any information storage and retrieval systems, without expressed written consent of the author and/or artists

  This book is a work of fiction. Names characters, places and incidents are products of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual events or persons, living, dead or undead, is entirely coincidental.

  “Morris Chambers” copyright 2012 by Armand Rosamilia and appearing in the upcoming Still Dying: Scenes From Dying Days

  “Hitch A Ride” copyright 2012 by Armand Rosamilia and appearing in the upcoming Darlene Bobich: Zombie Killer

  "Dying Days (Five Chapter Preview) copyright 2011 by Armand Rosamilia and from the Dying Days novella

  Cover Artwork copyright 2011 by Nic Burgess

  www.NicBurgess.ca

  First printing January 2012

  [email protected]

  I hope you will enjoy this sample from my Dying Days series of zombie stories, enough to check out the rest of the books:

  Highway To Hell

  Dying Days

  Darlene Bobich: Zombie Killer

  Dying Days 2

  Still Dying: Scenes From Dying Days (coming in 2012)

  Morris Chambers

  Hitch A Ride

  "Dying Days" sample

  Morris Chambers

  "Let's do this," Morris said to his best friend Daniel, shaking the shotgun for effect. "It's time to rock and roll."

  Daniel, the bigger of the two by far, wheezed and put his mom's station wagon into park. "What does that really mean?"

  Morris laughed. "It means we're about to hook up with some great shit, man."

  "Got it." Daniel opened the door but then stopped. "Should I bring the shotgun?"

  "Uh, yeah. Do you want to get eaten?"

  "No, but you have yours. I haven't used mine yet, and to be honest I don't want to."

  Morris loved the guy to death, but even he had limits. "You're starting to annoy me again." Morris got out and waited for his partner.

  "What if everything goes back to normal? I don't want someone's death on my conscience. I have enough hovering around that part of my brain."

  "This is the new world, Daniel. We are the new generation, the living generation. Don't you get it?" He pointed at the strip mall they'd parked in front of. "And inside that store is the reason we live, the reason we're not dead."

  Daniel was sweating, which was common for him. He wiped his large brow and shook his head, the sweat flying from his shaggy hair.

  "Stop. What are you, a dog?"

  Daniel laughed like the big doofus he was. Morris didn't know why he was friends with the guy sometimes. He was so un-cool, his hygiene was a mess, and he dressed like such a dork. Morris was sure his friend had never kissed a girl. He hadn't either, but he was sure he'd come closer.

  This was the fifth place within a hundred miles they'd been to. The plan was simple: get in, get the loot and get out. The drive back to Daniel's house was always the trickiest part because the farther they traveled the harder it was to get back safely.

  The strip-mall was quiet as the sun dropped. There was a damaged liquor store, a pizza place and a couple of other stores that didn't mean anything to them. Beside the black Trans Am in the parking lot it was deserted.

  The hobby store in front of them was the reason they'd come all this way.

  "Shotguns ready. We don't want another Hobby Masters scene, got it? Follow my lead," Morris said and approached the store.

  The front door had been smashed but it was easy to see the store hadn't been emptied. Morris knew the bulk of the looting was at gas stations, convenience stores, supermarkets and restaurants. The only time anyone bothered to raid a sports card or comic book store was for the cash register, not like that would mean much.

  The only thing that mattered was collecting, and with the end of the world upon them, they could both finally complete their collections.

  "Comic books to the left, sports cards to the right," Morris said as he stepped over the threshold and shined his flashlight. The inside hadn't been touched.

  Morris was completely into comic books and usually ignored the sports cards, but Daniel collected cards thanks to his dad's love for them.

  The first store they'd hit, right after the apocalypse began, was their local store. They'd cleaned it out thanks to Daniel having the station wagon when the word came down that things had changed. They simply walked into an abandoned store and began piling boxes of comic books and sports cards into the car without incident.

  It was only when they got back to his apartment, unloaded their latest finds, and spread them on the small living room floor that Morris realized he hadn't taken the box with the Fantastic Four comics in it. That was his absolute favorite, followed by Iron Man, Spider-Man, Alpha Flight and Captain America. He wasn't too big on the Avengers and the Incredible Hulk was boring for him, although he did have issue number one-eighty with the first appearance of Wolverine.

  Since then he'd calmed down after the initial adrenaline rush of now owning all of these classics and completing his collection, and went to task finding the special boxes holding Marvel Comics.

  The other thing Morris always did was to pull out the DC Comics and leave them on the tables for someone else - someone who appreciated Batman and Superman - to collect. He wasn't a fan. Make mine Marvel, he'd say.

  Behind the counter, usually behind protection and running up the wall to the ceiling, were the great books, the early X-Men issues or that elusive Conan the Barbarian #1 that wasn't off-center. The fun was never knowing when you walked in what you'd find.

  "Holy crap, look at the Mantle cards in this case," Daniel said in a hushed tone. "And they have a block of Pujols rookies. Pay-dirt."

  "Whoopie," Morris said and went to look at the wall when the familiar logo of the Fantastic Four caught his eye. He needed exactly sixteen issues of the entire series, including the first eight issues. At the last stop they'd had a beautiful run of issues nine through twenty-six, all near-mint. Morris had a very good issue of Fantastic Four #6 but wanted to upgrade it to a better copy.

  Morris blinked when he got closer to the issue and shone the flashlight on it. Twelve-cent cover price, the heroes battling the masked villain that would define them for decades to come, July of 1962… Morris knew the cover well. He even had it as a screen saver on his laptop, the issue he'd only read in reprint.

  "Fantastic Four #5… first appearance of Doctor Doom," Morris whispered. "Doctor Doom."

  He lightly took it from its resting place and held it in trembling fingers. For pure value it paled in comparison to issue 1, but that didn't matter to Morris. While the first book went for upwards of one hundred thirty thousand dollars, this issue with Doctor Doom could be had in mint for a paltry twenty-five grand. Not that Morris ever had anything close to that amount or in his wildest dreams would ever think of holding one, let alone possessing it.

  "Stupid idiots, putting it on the wall next to a thirty dollar Batman and a forty-five dollar Aquaman. Who ran this place, a child?"

  "Are you going to help?" Daniel asked, pulling 5,000-count card boxes from the wall. "I'm ready to go."

  "You're going to willy-nilly grab boxes instead of going through them?" Morris asked.

  "Yep. The fun is going through them tonight."

  "Whatever. We'll put your boxes in first, but then I need time to sort through the comics." Morris first put his newest prized possession onto the
front seat of the car.

  They began the worst part of the job: lugging heavy boxes to the station wagon, piling them in so they could maximize the room, and then once they got home they had to take them all out and lug them up two flights to the apartment. It was still better than paying for them, though.

  "You know what we need to do? We need to find out where one of the distribution centers for Marvel is, or one for Topps for my cards. Then we clean them out," Daniel said.

  "That is a good idea." Morris slipped a box of cards gently into the backseat. "Better yet, instead of doing that and just getting this year's comic books, we find one of the huge sellers that we used to buy from and wipe them out. Then this nickel and dime stuff will be over."

  Of course, this nickel and dime stuff had quickly doubled a lifetime of collecting and they would run out of room within a week at this rate.

  They both went back inside for another round, tired already.

  "We need to secure a warehouse, fill it with food and water, and then clean it up so we can put our collections in it. Something really big," Morris said. His goal, realistic or not, was to own at least one copy of every Marvel Comic that there was.

  "Did you hear that?" Daniel said.

  "What?" Morris asked, fingers dancing through a box of comic books while he rested.

  "A car."

  They both ran to the front of the store in time to see the Trans Am's tail lights as it sped out of the parking lot.

  "Shit, check the car," Morris said. He had the sinking feeling that he'd go to the car, throw open the door, and find that Fantastic Four #5, the first appearance of Doctor Doom, was lost to him forever. When he saw it still in its place on the seat he nearly wept.

  "I wonder who that was?" Daniel asked.

  "Well, unless the zombies suddenly learned how to drive, I think it was someone alive." Morris went back inside.

  "Where were they hiding?"

  "How should I know? Help me with these boxes here." Morris pulled some DC Comics from a box and added some Marvels from the next one.

  "Maybe there are more people somewhere," Daniel said.

  Morris put his hand on his shotgun close by. "Then we shoot them if they mess with us."

  "I don't want to kill anyone."

  "You think I do? I just want to finish and get back. My arms are killing me and its too dark in here."

  "I'm getting creeped out, too."

  What a moron. "I didn't say I was creeped out, I just don't want to fall when I'm walking and ruin a box of comics."

  Morris wasn't too concerned. So far the only living people they'd encountered were those looking for food and supplies in convenience stores. Morris had a fully stocked apartment thanks to his mom being a bit 'off' and being one of those insane extreme coupon nutcases. There was more food than they could ever eat, with an entire bedroom taken up with sorted cans of food, cases and cases of water and energy drinks, and enough boxes of Fruit Loops to kill you.

  His mother was probably out right now collecting food instead of being home safely. At least he hoped she was. She hadn't been seen since the beginning of all this, although Morris mad sure to leave her a note on the fridge before they left each time, letting her know where they'd be and when he'd be home.

  Of course, they'd have to either weed out the crap they weren't going to eat and use that space for more comic books and cards, or go with the plan to find a bigger place.

  "What about a hotel?" Morris asked.

  "What about a hotel?" Daniel repeated, which he did way too often for Morris.

  "We find a nice hotel, secure it, and fill the rooms with our collections."

  Daniel stared dumbly at his partner for a second before smiling. "That sounds cool."

  "Think about it," Morris said as he pulled Justice League comic books from the boxes and put them on the table, "we each get a floor or two. We clear out all the furniture, put tables up, and pile our collections like in a store. I'd have an entire room for just Fantastic Four comics."

  "I could build shelves for the 5,000-count boxes and then put the completed sets in the middle of the rooms. Maybe each year gets its own room," Daniel said excitedly.

  "A big hotel has to have tables for us to use. I wonder how many comic books I can fit inside a standard hotel room."

  "We'd need to move an awful lot of beds and dressers and chairs."

  "We toss them out the window," Morris said.

  "Like rock stars."

  "Exactly." Morris closed the box once he'd fit a group of Mighty Thor comic books into it and carried it to the car. "We don't have to worry about having too many books and cards. We can fill thousands of square feet and also have our own rooms and a full kitchen as well."

  "And a swimming pool."

  "Do you know how to swim?"

  "Of course. Do you?" Daniel asked.

  Morris put the box in the car and figured they had room for another eight. "Let's get this done and get back home."

  * * * * *

  They found the hotel, six stories, just outside of town and adjacent to the main highway. The area around it was rubble, burning buildings and torched cars.

  "Perfect," Morris said when they pulled into the parking lot. "It has a fence around it. We just need to close the gate and make sure there aren't any breaches."

  "We'll build a moat if we have to," Daniel happily chimed in.

  Morris wanted to punch him but instead pulled up his eyeglasses and rubbed his eyes. "Grab your shotgun."

  "I hope we don't have to use them."

  "We've been lucky the last three weeks, haven't we?"

  Since finding the Fantastic Four #5, they'd had a string of fortune. Six more comic book stores were found and cleaned out, but the apartment was now overflowing with boxes.

  Daniel had kicked in Misses Stansky's door across the hall and they were using her living room and kitchen for storage as well.

  Two days ago, while searching for Coliseum Comics, they'd passed this hotel. It was only a two hour drive from the apartment and they could make several trips a day until everything was brought here. What else did they have to do?

  Right now the car was loaded with food and bottled water, the front seat between them stacked with enough ammo to kill a small army.

  "You ready?" Morris asked and Daniel nodded.

  "You think they have arcade games or a hot tub?"

  "There's no power, genius. How will you run them?" Morris said with disgust. "We're not here to sunbathe, get high score on Ms. Pac-man or order room service. We're here to save the last great comic book collection in the world."

  "And sports cards."

  "Whatever." Morris got out and put the shotgun on his shoulder.

  They approached the main entrance but slowed when they were thirty feet away.

  "The doors are open," Daniel said.

  No kidding, Morris thought. Nothing gets past you, doofus. "I see that."

  "What do we do now?"

  "We give up and go home," Morris said sarcastically, but it was lost on Daniel.

  "Really? Alright."

  "No, you… no, we go inside and make sure it's safe."

  "What if it isn't?"

  "Then we make it safe," Morris said and tapped the shotgun for emphasis.

  "I don't want to use it."

  "You will eventually have no choice. It's either shoot them or they eat you, or do worse."

  "Worse?"

  Morris shook his head. "Weren't you watching the same news I was watching? Those things were raping people."

  Daniel just shook his head and stared down at his clammy hands. The shotgun was slick with his sweat now.

  "Let's move, before it gets too late. We need to make at least another trip today before it gets too dark." Morris took a step and stopped. "Did you hear that?"

  The first three zombies appeared in the doorway of the hotel. They were followed by another four behind them.

  Morris backed up and fired, watching as one of the zomb
ie's heads exploded. "Back to the station wagon."

  "Are we leaving?" Daniel asked, hope clearly in his voice.

  "No, we need the rest of the ammo."

  Another seven zombies stepped into the parking lot from the lobby and shuffled toward the pair, dozens and dozens clamoring inside to get to them.

  Hitch A Ride

  "The greatest song ever. Am I right?" R.J. didn't wait for an answer from Darlene. Instead he cranked the song - AC/DC's seminal Highway To Hell - and floored the Trans Am. He began warbling along completely out of tune.

  Darlene closed her eyes and prayed that he wouldn't kill them both. Since 'meeting him' in the Wawa he'd been cordial, if a bit eccentric.

  R.J. had a Jersey accent and crazy look in his eyes, but wore a cowboy hat, faded blue jeans and a huge Confederate flag belt buckle. He'd been punching the fountain drink machine to magically get it to work, even though the store had been ransacked and the power was off.

  He'd made no move for a weapon and didn't seem fazed when she drew the Desert Eagle on him. Instead, he tipped his cowboy hat in her direction, winked, and asked if she knew how the soda machine worked.

  "Yeah, I know how it works. With electricity," she replied sarcastically.

  "None of that around here. I guess I'll mosey along to other parts of the range, eh?" he'd said but in a thick Joisey accent. Darlene thought it quite unsettling but he didn't seem to be a threat. After what she'd just escaped from…

  She watched him warily but went about trying to find something to eat or drink.

  "You won't find anything else in here, ma'am," he'd said. "Picked it clean and stored it in the Bandit outside."

  "Bandit?"

  He pumped out his chest and went to the broken glass windows at the front of the store and pointed. "I call her Bandit, like what Burt drove."

  Outside, parked by itself, was a white Pontiac Trans Am.