The procession took forever. Each step we took did not bring us any closer to the front of the church.
But then, like a snap of a finger, we were there. In front of the priest.
I raised the veil. I again gave her a gentle kiss and stepped back.
I stepped back and screamed.
The man she was to marry stared at me. He was missing an eyeball. Green-grey flesh peeled from his forehead and cheeks. A gaping mouth with less than a handful of teeth set into receded gingivitis-ridden gums.
I spun around.
The church was filled with zombies who were dressed amazingly, seated in the rows and rows of pews.
Now they stood and shuffled out of the pews, and slowly made their way toward me, toward my daughter.
“Run, Charlene! Run!” I said.
Charlene grabbed my hand.
Her skin was green and decaying. She opened her mouth and groaned.
I closed my eyes and screamed.
# # #
Charlene was beside me, smiling. Her hair was done in braids. She leaned over and kissed my cheek.
“We made it,” she said. “You made it.”
What had I missed? How was this possible? How?
I looked around. This was still not Mexico.
This was Rochester. We were in my apartment. We were in my living room.
There was my TV. My couches.
“Charlene, I don’t understand?”
“You’re okay. Everything is going to be okay. I love you, Daddy. I love you.”
I opened my mouth, trying to speak. I wanted to say, “I love you, too.”
What I said, and what I heard were two different things.
I did not hear: I Love You.
Instead, I heard a growl. A groan. A moan. A cry.
I tried again, harder this time.
A grow. A groan. A moan. A cry.
“I love you, Daddy. I love you!”
Why was she crying? Why?
I reached for her, fingers beckoning her closer, and closer . . .
Epilogue
I couldn’t just leave things like this. I couldn’t.
He deserved better. Much better.
He wasn’t just a great man. This was my father.
His cries cut into my soul.
His moans tore at my heart.
To the left was Mexico. The border.
I backed away from my father as he struggled to his feet, and climbed into the car. I drove away from him.
I drove several yards and stopped.
He was in my rearview mirror. He stood there, still reaching for me.
“Dad,” I whispered.
I climbed out of the car. I stood and waited.
He came for me. Each step he took pained me. Crushed me.
It wasn’t him. Not any longer. It wasn’t my father.
I sucked in a deep breath and strode full of purpose in each step I took toward him. I raised my sword.
His arms outstretched; fingers curling and uncurling as if calling me closer and closer..
I swung the sword high, and fast and hard.
As the blade connected with the side of his neck, I closed my eyes and turned away before I saw something I’d never be able to un-see. I slid the blade across his flesh as I spun, and regretted being able to feel the blade shred with a jagged cut.
And then I walked toward the car, and past it…and kept on walking.
# # #
The sign said Mexican Border.
I could hear the river. It ran strong and fast.
There were cars all over the place, clogging the way out of this country and into the next.
Dad wanted us to reach Mexico.
We’d done it. Well, I’d done it.
I’d do it, if only for him.
I wasn’t sure this was where I wanted to be, though.
My home was nearly 2,000 miles in the opposite direction.
Not a few hundred yards in front of me.
For my dad, I would cross into Mexico. Maybe it would turn out to be the perfect sanctuary. Maybe I would be safe. Maybe they didn’t have the zombie problems America faced.
Maybe there was a new beginning waiting for me on the other side of that wall.
I wouldn’t know until I crossed over and saw for myself.
The problem was, I kept thinking about what we’d learned so far. The zombies did not like the rain. Mexico did not get much rain. Ever. The zombies learned. They might never be smart (again), or figure out complex problems, but they did learn. If the things were decaying from the inside out, then maybe, just maybe this nightmare would end on its own. Eventually.
My name is Charlene McKinney.
Char.
In a few short weeks, I’d lost everything important in my world: my mother, my brother, my father.
I’d lost everything except the anger that stirred inside me. I had my sword, machete and knives. I had a fire inside me. I wanted answers. I wanted revenge. I knew it might be wrong, but I wanted to kill every last zombie on earth. Maybe I’d start that in Mexico . . . Maybe I’d go somewhere else and settle the score . . .
I turned around, and gave the USA one final look . . .
. . . The End . . .
Read on for a free sample of Bravo Two Zombie
Author’s Note
While Butler County is an actual county in Pennsylvania, for creative reasons I took many liberties with the physical attributes. With 14 movies filmed in this county, including but not limited to, Night of the Living Dead (1968), The Crazies (1973), I Am Number Four (2011), and The Avengers (2012), I wanted to include this location in the mix of my own zombie trilogy. If any harm was caused, mistakes made, I apologize as none was meant.
Special Thanks
I want to thank Adrian DeJesus, JoAnne Doud and Linda Tooch, my beta readers; Gary and everyone at Severed Press for all the work put into bringing The Vaccination Trilogy to life, and most importantly, all of the readers who have helped to make the series an Amazon Best Seller. Without my readers, my writing stories is pointless. Thank you, everyone. Your continued support means the world to me.
www.philliptomasso.com / phillip@philliptomasso.com
@P_Tomasso
Other Titles by Tomasso
Evacuation
Vaccination
Sounds of Silence
Pulse of Evil
Pigeon Drop Convicted
The Molech Prophecy (as Thomas Phillips)
Adverse Impact
Johnny Blade
Third Ring
Tenth House
Mind Play
Forthcoming
Riverbed Treasure Island: A Zombie Novel
About the Author
Phillip Tomasso is the award winning author of numerous novels, and short stories. He works full time as a Fire/EMS Dispatcher at 911. He lives in Rochester, NY with his three children, dog, Fettuccine, and cat, Luca. He is always at work on his next tale.
Praise For VACCINATION
“I loved this book because of the concept; zombies didn't just appear after somebody woke up in a hospital bed! The group of survivors were believable, and I loved the fact that they weren't perfect. Highly recommended.” – D.A. Wearmouth, bestselling author of First Activation
“VACCINATION is a thrill a minute. Narrated in a gritty noir voice, Phillip Tomasso drags you into a zombie outbreak face first and doesn’t let you go until you’ve ripped your fingernails off clawing for help. Smart, intense and damn right frightening, VACCINATION is a must for any zombie fan.”– Max Booth III, author of Toxicity