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The Nation (6 book series)
Kindle Edition
The stories of the Survivors of the apocalypse have built their own Nation from the ashes. A place to live safely again. But the road to getting there was not an easy one. These are their stories…
The map, a faded testament to a world long gone, lay between them, its lines representing not just distances, but the stark choices that determined life or death. The choice wasn’t just about finding Havenwood; it was about preserving what remained of their humanity in a world that relentlessly stripped it away.
As hours bled into the night, a sense of collective exhaustion settled over them, a kind of fatigue that went beyond the physical. It was the weariness of countless hard-fought battles, the exhaustion of constantly battling despair and uncertainty. The air hung heavy with unspoken fears, the weight of their impending decision clinging to them like a shroud.
Bear finally spoke, his voice roughened by exhaustion and the weight of responsibility. “We’ll take the longer path,” he declared, his tone resolute, a decision born not of optimism but of a grim, pragmatic assessment of the risks. He looked at each member, his gaze lingering on each face, acknowledging the silent acknowledgment and unspoken understanding. They had been through too much together to gamble on a quick, violent end. The longer path offered a chance to survive and reach their promised land; an opportunity to live to fight another day.
The decision made, a collective sigh of relief swept through the group, a silent acknowledgment of the burden lifted. It wasn’t a triumph; it was a strategy. A carefully calculated risk, a gamble for survival. The journey ahead would still be perilous, fraught with uncertainties, and yet, choosing the longer road seemed, in that moment, to represent a flicker of hope, a refusal to surrender to the bleakness of their world. The road to Havenwood promised a long, arduous journey, but they would face it together, their shared experiences and their newfound unity a weapon against the endless onslaught of the apocalypse. The journey, they knew, would test their resolve and strength, but the decision itself was a victory – a testament to their growing unity and their tenacious grip on survival in a world that offered only despair. The road ahead would be longer, but it promised them a fighting chance to retain their humanity, a chance to survive, not just physically but spiritually, on their journey toward the promised haven.
“The longer route,” Bear finally stated, his voice rough, “gives us the time to prepare for the inevitable. It’s a path of attrition, not a sprint. We can reinforce our defenses, conserve our resources, and scout ahead. We will not simply traverse this route; we will dominate it. We will make our journey a lesson in survival. And let’s not forget,” he continued, looking at Marcus, “Anya’s analysis shows a significantly higher probability of survival. Emotions must not drive this decision; strategic calculations must.”
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1
The Nation 01
The map, a faded testament to a world long gone, lay between them, its lines representing not just distances, but the stark choices that determined life or death. The choice wasn’t just about finding Havenwood; it was about preserving what remained of their humanity in a world that relentlessly stripped it away.
As hours bled into the night, a sense of collective exhaustion settled over them, a kind of fatigue that went beyond the physical. It was the weariness of countless hard-fought battles, the exhaustion of constantly battling despair and uncertainty. The air hung heavy with unspoken fears, the weight of their impending decision clinging to them like a shroud.
Bear finally spoke, his voice roughened by exhaustion and the weight of responsibility. “We’ll take the longer path,” he declared, his tone resolute, a decision born not of optimism but of a grim, pragmatic assessment of the risks. He looked at each member, his gaze lingering on each face, acknowledging the silent acknowledgment and unspoken understanding. They had been through too much together to gamble on a quick, violent end. The longer path offered a chance to survive and reach their promised land; an opportunity to live to fight another day.
The decision made, a collective sigh of relief swept through the group, a silent acknowledgment of the burden lifted. It wasn’t a triumph; it was a strategy. A carefully calculated risk, a gamble for survival. The journey ahead would still be perilous, fraught with uncertainties, and yet, choosing the longer road seemed, in that moment, to represent a flicker of hope, a refusal to surrender to the bleakness of their world. The road to Havenwood promised a long, arduous journey, but they would face it together, their shared experiences and their newfound unity a weapon against the endless onslaught of the apocalypse. The journey, they knew, would test their resolve and strength, but the decision itself was a victory – a testament to their growing unity and their tenacious grip on survival in a world that offered only despair. The road ahead would be longer, but it promised them a fighting chance to retain their humanity, a chance to survive, not just physically but spiritually, on their journey toward the promised haven.
The fire crackled, spitting sparks into the inky blackness, its meager light illuminating the anxious faces gathered around the tattered map. “That means Widowmaker’s Pass – more than half the groups that tried it never made it out.” Bear paused, letting the weight of his words sink in. “And the ones that did… well, they weren’t the same.”
Beth, her expression calm despite the evident concern in her eyes, spoke slowly, her voice measured and controlled. “The longer path isn’t without its dangers, Marcus. It’s simply a different kind of risk.”
Bear, his gaze sweeping across their faces, remained silent for a moment, weighing their arguments, his mind wrestling with the immense pressure of their decision.
“The longer route,” Bear finally stated, his voice rough, “gives us the time to prepare for the inevitable. It’s a path of attrition, not a sprint. We can reinforce our defenses, conserve our resources, and scout ahead. We will not simply traverse this route; we will dominate it. We will make our journey a lesson in survival. And let’s not forget,” he continued, looking at Marcus, “Anya’s analysis shows a significantly higher probability of survival. Emotions must not drive this decision; strategic calculations must.”
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2
The Nation 02
The sun, a weak, watery orb, struggled to pierce the perpetual gloom of the junkyard. Its rays, filtered through the grimy haze of industrial decay and the skeletal remains of rusted cars, cast long, distorted shadows that danced with the shuffling figures of the undead. This was their sanctuary, a chaotic landscape of twisted metal, shattered glass, and the lingering stench of decay – their home.
Ethan, his face etched with the weariness of a thousand sleepless nights, hauled a dented bucket overflowing with salvaged canned goods. Each can, a tiny victory snatched from the jaws of starvation, represented another day survived in this ravaged world. He grunted with effort, his muscles protesting under the strain. The weight wasn’t just physical; it was the weight of their existence, a constant, oppressive burden. He was a steelworker once, his hands forged to shape metal into something useful, something strong. Now, his hands were blistered and calloused, repurposed for scavenging, for eking out a meager existence amidst the ruins.
Penny, perched atop their makeshift fortress – a stripped-down bus with its windows boarded up and its frame reinforced with scavenged metal – watched him with her usual quiet intensity. Her dark eyes, usually sparkling with a defiant glint, held a deeper shadow this morning, a reflection of the relentless struggle to stay alive. She was a pragmatist, a survivor through and through, her quiet strength a stark contrast to Ethan’s simmering frustration.
Their daily routine was a grim ballet of survival. First, scavenging. Ethan would venture out, his rusty pipe wrench his only weapon against the slow, lumbering zombies that patrolled the junkyard. The undead, mostly bloated and decaying, were less a swift, terrifying threat and more a persistent nuisance, a constant, shuffling background to their desperate existence. Their slowness was both a blessing and a curse; it gave them time to react, but also meant that any encounter took precious time and energy. Today’s haul was meager. A few cans of peaches, long past their expiration date, a dented box of saltines, and a nearly empty bottle of something vaguely resembling cough syrup.
“Not much, huh?” Penny said, her voice calm, almost soothing in the harsh landscape of their lives. She held a makeshift spear, fashioned from a broken pipe and sharpened with a piece of broken glass – a testament to her ingenuity and resourcefulness. She’d been scavenging too, her movements precise and efficient, always aware of the shuffling figures that surrounded them.
“Enough to keep us alive for another day,” Ethan muttered, his voice tight with a frustration that bordered on despair. He longed for more than mere survival. Their fortifications needed constant maintenance. Every night, they’d reinforce their defenses, patching holes, strengthening barricades, preparing for the inevitable nighttime assault of the slow-moving undead.
The days were punctuated by moments of bleak humor. They’d joke about the absurdity of their situation, their laughter a brittle, desperate sound that masked the fear that gnawed at them. T
The quiet moments, however, were the hardest. The silence between the groans of the undead was filled with the weight of their solitude, the vast emptiness of a world stripped bare of its humanity. The only sound besides the wind and the groaning was the occasional creak of their bus, a fragile vessel in a sea of destruction. These were the moments when Ethan’s frustration surged, the moments when he felt the crushing weight of their isolation, the gnawing fear of the unknown. Penny, ever the pragmatist, found solace in the routine, in the tangible act of survival. She would tend to their meager supplies, meticulously organizing and conserving what little they had.
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3
The Nation 03
Hazleton:
Bear “Hey,” Bear said. He knelt down next to Winston where he lay on a cot. “What’s going on?” Winston nodded. “I think it’s just something else, Bear. I know Cammy is worried, thinks it’s my heart, but I don’t think so.”
Bear nodded. “What can I do?”
“Nothing, really. I think it just has to run its course.” He shrugged.
“Pain in your chest? … Arm?” Bear asked.
“Arm aches. Pressure in my chest. I got a bad ticker… I know it. I get that sometimes. I got Nitro… plenty,” Winston said. “But you don’t think it will get worse?” Bear asked.
Winston lowered his voice. “It’s a bad ticker, Bear. Been bad before; been worse, better. I really think it’s going to be okay. I don’t have that feeling of doom. I can’t explain it better than that. You get this feeling when it’s really bad. I don’t have that.” Winston finished.
“We’ll probably be here the rest of today and tomorrow. Then we’re thinking of pulling out… if you think you feel up to it. So, rest. Let me know… but be honest about it. Let me know how you feel,” Bear shrugged.
Winston shrugged too. Bear stood. Cammy stayed where she had been, seated on the end of the cot.
Beth
Beth walked along silently. Bear walked beside her. He had come back after all and caught her as she was coming down the ladder. He had waited as she made a quick trip to the garage, and then they had walked slowly into the junk yard, watching the rows of cars as they went. Bear told her what Iris had said to him earlier.
“Iris can be silly sometimes. She gets an idea in her head and she runs with it,” Beth said at last. “Hopefully it doesn’t cause you problems.”
“It can’t cause me problems,” Bear said.
“I can’t believe, though, that Iris would go to Cammy.” Beth shrugged. “Maybe, maybe not. Either way it can cause you problems, and I hope it doesn’t.”
“It can’t,” Bear said again. “Cammy and I had a talk today. Let me rephrase that, Cammy talked to me, and I listened.” Beth looked up at Bear.
“Cammy wanted me to know that she is not in love with me… can’t love me. That was it. But that’s not all of it. People think that we are together, and I haven’t, she hasn’t, corrected that. But the truth is that there is nothing there. Hasn’t been. She was with someone else when we met. Long story, but she lost that person. I went through something bad too… lost someone I loved, the same as most of us did. She wanted me to know she’s not ready to meet someone else. But we’re not together, so Iris can say what Iris wants to say. Doesn’t matter… Can’t cause me problems.”
Beth took a sip from the pint and passed it to Bear.
Bear sipped deeply. “Wow.” He handed the bottle back, reached into his top pocket, pulled his pouch free and rolled a cigarette. He motioned to the pouch and looked at Beth.
“Please,” Beth said.
“Shit will kill you,” Bear warned.
“Yeah, well,” Beth laughed and looked around. “I’m pretty scared.”
“Guess I feel the same. If I didn’t, I would have tossed this crap.” He rolled a second cigarette and handed it to Beth. A second later he scratched a match to life and lit both cigarettes. He blew gray-blue smoke into the air. They walked in silence for a time.
“Let’s get to where we’re going and then sort this out,” Beth said. She looked over at Bear.
“Alright, that’s fair,” Bear agreed.
“Yeah… No sweat,” she added. Bear nodded. “Yet,” Beth added with a laugh. She took a sip from the bottle and then passed it back to Bear. Bear chuckled, took another deep pull from the bottle, felt the fire roll down into his stomach and then passed it back.
“Yet,” he agreed.
The people traveling with Bear, Beth, Billy and Pearl are not always equipped for a life of constant fighting and travel. They do the best they can for those who are with them and the survivors they pick up along the way…
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4
The Nation 04
The State Park sign was overgrown, sun faded and leaning at the side of the road. The four trucks sat idling just inside the treeline of the old narrow road that lead down into the campground. The driver’s door of the second truck in line popped open, and Beth, wearing military style fatigues and carrying a wire stock machine pistol, walked up to the driver’s side of the lead truck and tapped on the glass.
Billy looked up from the map he was reading. “Beth, Just checking out this map. I think this is right.” His finger jabbed at a spot on the map that had been circled with red ink. “This used to be a state park. It’s early. I thought we should stop, plan where we go next.”
“Good a place as any, I guess,” Beth said. She looked up, staring down along the gloomy road and into the abandoned campground.
“What?” Billy asked.
Beth shook her head. “Nerves are on edge, Billy. I just thought I heard something.” She smiled and turned back to Billy where he sat, map spread across his lap, the truck idling in park.
“But it doesn’t feel right. That’s why I stopped here, didn’t drive down in. Feels funny,” Billy told her. “The location?” Another truck door opened on the third truck back and Bear strode toward the front.
Beth lifted her eyes from the map just as the first of the UN-dead broke from the trees behind the back of the last truck. “Jesus! Jesus, Billy… Dead!” She shrugged her machine pistol off her shoulder and caught it with both hands. She was already moving toward the back vehicles. In front of her, Bear was turning away from her, back toward the rear, his massive frame blocking her view. Somewhere towards the back truck someone began to scream. Iris, she thought, it was Iris who was screaming. She found herself running at that point. Her legs pumping effortlessly, the adrenaline surging through her veins. Iris was in the truck with Mac. She had no sooner had the thought then she heard another voice began to scream. She couldn’t place it, but as she rounded Bear, catching up and passing him, she saw that two zombies had Mac on the ground, tearing chunks from his arms as he tried to fight them off.
“Beth!” Billy screamed from behind her. “Right. Your right!” She had been just about to fire at the two zombies attacking Mac, and so even as she turned, she did not turn her pistol completely, but kept it aimed to the front towards Mac and the two zombies. By the time she registered how close the three zombies were to her, there was no time to turn the pistol and fire. They were nearly on her. She had no more registered their faces, jaws wide, teeth gnashing – she had not even had the time to worry about her own fate yet – when the lead zombie’s head blew apart in a spray of black blood and bone. She blinked involuntarily and managed to bring her pistol around as the two remaining zombies tried to reverse direction in mid stride. Their eyes were wild, trapped looking. She brought up the pistol and pulled the trigger. Nothing happened, and her heart staggered in her chest. The safety… the fucking safety, her mind screamed, and that was when another zombie hit her from the side and she went sprawling onto the dirt road. There were two more on her before she could get turned over. She felt the first bite to her arm and ignored it, as she concentrated on getting the safety off the pistol she had somehow managed to hold onto as she fell.
The Crew must stop and care for Beth while she heals after Bear cuts her arm off to stop her from turning…
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5
The Nation 05
Plymouth PA
Triad Mall
They were inside the mall as night was falling. The parking lot was shadowed and creepy looking. Beth had just been about to speak when she heard a strange noise. Her eyes rose quickly to the ceiling. They came through the roof…
Bear was talking to Beth, leaned against the door frame, staring out at the night black parking lot, when the first Zombie dropped from the ceiling of the store behind them. There were four of them outside the vehicles talking or keeping watch on the parking lot. Bear and Beth, Mac and Billy. When the first one dropped, Billy spun around and clubbed it to the ground. But the rest came so fast that they could not hope to easily and quickly pick them off.
Beth raised her machine pistol straight up and began firing into the roof. The light from the lanterns didn’t penetrate the darkness all the way to the ceiling, so there was no way to see how many there were or even where they were. She found herself wishing she still had the flashlight taped to the rifle barrel. Six dropped, and Bear had to wait for them to come at him so he could be sure of shooting them and not accidentally shooting into the trucks. Billy ran from truck to truck pounding on the doors and window glass, waking everyone up.
Bear reversed the stock of his rifle and ran at the Zombie in front of him. He clubbed his head flat and then reversed the rifle and shot him through the head once he was on the floor. Six more UN-dead dropped from the darkness above, one right after the other. Two landed on Bear’s truck, and he heard Cammy scream from inside. One stood from the roof, preparing to leap at Billy as he ran towards Don and Ginny’s truck, and Bear shot him off the roof of the truck. He fell right onto one of the kerosene lanterns, and the flames shot up immediately, running under and up the side of Don and Ginny’s truck where the kerosene had splashed. It seemed like less than a second to Bear before the truck and the stock in the aisle behind that truck went up in flames. The line of flame rolled away into the store, catching the merchandise on the shelves as it went.
Beth shot another Zombie as it dropped from the ceiling and landed nearly in front of her. Don’s truck started, and a second later, Don’s eyes showed just above the dashboard as he dropped the truck into gear and lurched forward. Bear jumped at Billy, knocking him out of the way as the truck roared by with scant inches to spare. They both rolled, came up and Billy fired low, taking the legs out from under one of the dead. Bear gained his feet, spun towards the front and watched Don’s truck smash dead center into one of the piles of pallets and tires. It was already burning, flames shooting from under the truck and up the sides. The flames had fanned when Don had dropped it in gear and driven from the store. The truck hit, bounced and then came back down hard on the tires and pallets.
Sparks flew high into the sky. The truck bounced twice more, Bear saw Don’s head bounce off the side window, and then the truck veered sharply to the left and roared off into the parking lot covered in flames. A second later, the sound of the crash came to them as the truck slammed into several cars in the lot and came to a fast halt…
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6
The Nation 06
The Nation
“Hey,” Cammy smiled. “I thought you were just going to go on sleeping forever.”
Beth levered her arms down to scoot up in the bed and nearly banged the stump of her arm against the side of the bed before Cammy stopped her.
“Honey… Honey… Your arm. You have to be careful,” Cammy told her. She took her under the arms and lifted her gently back into the pillows.
“Oh God,” Beth whispered through her dry lips as she stared down at the stump of her arm. “Somebody chopped off the rest of my arm.” Her eyes came up to Cammy’s own.
“Honey, Sandy had to take it. It was infected,” Cammy told her. She gently pushed her back into the pillows. Sandy appeared over her shoulder with a wooden cup of water. Cammy took it and helped Beth to take a sip. “Easy, Honey, just go slow,” she told her.
Beth cleared her throat and took a larger sip. “Oh my God… I have such a bad headache. Kind of sick to my stomach too.”
Sandy took her hand, and her fingers rested lightly against her wrist for a moment, feeling for her pulse. “The stomach is a couple of things, most likely. I have no idea when the last time you ate is, but I would bet it’s been a few days. Pain killers and penicillin on an empty stomach are tough. I gave you a sports drink when I could get you to swallow, but you need real food. The headache is probably the morphine. You’ve been living on it the last few days. I can give you some aspirin for that.”
“She told me I couldn’t have aspirin,” Beth said as she looked at Cammy. “Said I had to have the Morphine.” She licked her lips for what seemed like an hour and then took another deep sip from the glass Cammy still held.
“She wouldn’t take it at first, true,” Cammy agreed with a laugh.
“Said I had balls… Thinks I don’t remembner… Rember,” she sighed.
Cammy laughed. “Remember… Remember, Honey. Yes. I asked you if you had balls,” she turned to Sandy and her arched eyebrows. “She wanted to take only aspirin after Bear took her arm off.”
Beth nodded. “I did. She talked me into Morphine, and now look at this… I woke up with the rest of it gone too.”
“Only from the elbow down,” Sandy said. “You’re lucky.”
Beth tried a lopsided smile on and then took another sip of the cold water.
“Listen, Honey, you needed the Morphine. You still do, really, and you can still have it if you want it. It just plays hell with your body when you’ve been on it a few days,” Sandy told her.
Beth took a deeper sip that was more like a real drink. “That is really good water,” she said.
Cammy and Sandy both laughed. “How about a sandwich, soup, broth? What do you think you can handle?” Sandy asked her.
“I think I can handle some more water,” Beth said.
“I’m sure you can. And you need liquid. I just want there to be some nourishment in it,” Sandy told her.
“Hot anything doesn’t sound good. My stomach is still off,” Beth said.
“How about some cooled beef broth? Soup? Doesn’t have to be hot,” Sandy agreed.
Beth swallowed, took a deeper drink of the cold water and nodded.
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See more at Dell Sweet’s Amazon Author page: https://www.amazon.com/Dell-Sweet/e/B01N24V05N?ref=dbs_mng_calw_a_5