Read Online Resurrection by Kevin Collins - Free Book Online
Authors: Kevin Collins
Tags: Zombies
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peaceful blue marble that had always been present in their night sky.
But the reality on the ground was much different. The humans who were left alive fought a daily struggle and the dark ages reigned supreme once again across the planet.
The military of most countries had been decimated and finding men or women who were willing to sign up to help in the eradication process with just the clothes on their backs and no promise of compensation was a difficult one indeed.
Localized militias had formed long before Scorched Earth in the vacuum the government had left behind. Some of these were out to keep some sort of law in a lawless place, to help the people in the locality and attempt to bring some peace.
Others were out to take what they could and instill fear across the landscape. Bolstered by their numbers and lack of any laws they would roam an area and take what they could and when it was tapped out they would simply move and start over again.
The stronger militias were able to secure their areas and keep out the bad but the weaker ones were just rolled over exposing their soft white underbelly and evil was allowed to rule.
February 11, 2025
One and one half years before Operation Scorched Earth:
It was pouring and waves of rain slashed at the windshield. The wipers slapped monotonously back and forth across the surface of the glass and at times the downpour was so intense that they could scarce keep up.
Mark Theriot cruised down I-10 in the Ford f-150 leaving Louisiana and the ghosts of the past several months in the rear view mirror. He had slowly made his way across south Louisiana; abandoned automobiles lined the interstate where their owners had left them. Yet a few were still buzzing down the highway as survivors attempted to flee from one horrific nightmare to another hopefully not quit as horrific.
But as he had discovered it was the same everywhere, there was no place to escape and he wrestled with the futility of his present actions. But the thought of starting over again in Resurrection drove him onwards.
He turned north when he got to Beaumont to avoid Houston; lord only knows what kind of mayhem he might find there. From now on he intended to avoid the main highways and stick to the back roads which wound through the smaller towns and villages that dotted the landscape.
Events had changed him and he felt the tug of freedom, freedom from himself but that was impossible he knew. The past was the past and it seemed that there would be no future; the present was all there was.
The rain was coming down in sheets making driving impossible and his headlights were of no use so he pulled over at what had at one time been a small rest area to wait out the deluge. The rain pounded against the roof of the truck and he decided to try and get some sleep. He laid his head back against the headrest and tried to relax but his mind would not stop.
He was twenty–eight years old and had his whole life ahead of him but instead living it to the fullest he was waiting out a never ending rainstorm on the side of some deserted road dead in the middle of a society in collapse and he needed to pee. How long can this last? He looked at his watch, now there was an antiquated notion if ever he saw one; time.
In this world there was either not enough time or way too much of it either way it was not an important concept unless one’s bladder was about to burst while waiting for a downpour to end.
He must have nodded off as the next thing he knew the rain had ceased. He gingerly stepped outside the truck to relieve himself and accidently bumped the truck door and it slammed shut.
When he was done he walked around to rest his legs and stretch. Then he heard a sound in the bushes on the other side of the picnic table and stopped to listen and then he heard the sound of footsteps in the grass from coming several directions.
“Wasters!”
He ran back to the pickup and pulled on the handle; it was locked and the
But the reality on the ground was much different. The humans who were left alive fought a daily struggle and the dark ages reigned supreme once again across the planet.
The military of most countries had been decimated and finding men or women who were willing to sign up to help in the eradication process with just the clothes on their backs and no promise of compensation was a difficult one indeed.
Localized militias had formed long before Scorched Earth in the vacuum the government had left behind. Some of these were out to keep some sort of law in a lawless place, to help the people in the locality and attempt to bring some peace.
Others were out to take what they could and instill fear across the landscape. Bolstered by their numbers and lack of any laws they would roam an area and take what they could and when it was tapped out they would simply move and start over again.
The stronger militias were able to secure their areas and keep out the bad but the weaker ones were just rolled over exposing their soft white underbelly and evil was allowed to rule.
February 11, 2025
One and one half years before Operation Scorched Earth:
It was pouring and waves of rain slashed at the windshield. The wipers slapped monotonously back and forth across the surface of the glass and at times the downpour was so intense that they could scarce keep up.
Mark Theriot cruised down I-10 in the Ford f-150 leaving Louisiana and the ghosts of the past several months in the rear view mirror. He had slowly made his way across south Louisiana; abandoned automobiles lined the interstate where their owners had left them. Yet a few were still buzzing down the highway as survivors attempted to flee from one horrific nightmare to another hopefully not quit as horrific.
But as he had discovered it was the same everywhere, there was no place to escape and he wrestled with the futility of his present actions. But the thought of starting over again in Resurrection drove him onwards.
He turned north when he got to Beaumont to avoid Houston; lord only knows what kind of mayhem he might find there. From now on he intended to avoid the main highways and stick to the back roads which wound through the smaller towns and villages that dotted the landscape.
Events had changed him and he felt the tug of freedom, freedom from himself but that was impossible he knew. The past was the past and it seemed that there would be no future; the present was all there was.
The rain was coming down in sheets making driving impossible and his headlights were of no use so he pulled over at what had at one time been a small rest area to wait out the deluge. The rain pounded against the roof of the truck and he decided to try and get some sleep. He laid his head back against the headrest and tried to relax but his mind would not stop.
He was twenty–eight years old and had his whole life ahead of him but instead living it to the fullest he was waiting out a never ending rainstorm on the side of some deserted road dead in the middle of a society in collapse and he needed to pee. How long can this last? He looked at his watch, now there was an antiquated notion if ever he saw one; time.
In this world there was either not enough time or way too much of it either way it was not an important concept unless one’s bladder was about to burst while waiting for a downpour to end.
He must have nodded off as the next thing he knew the rain had ceased. He gingerly stepped outside the truck to relieve himself and accidently bumped the truck door and it slammed shut.
When he was done he walked around to rest his legs and stretch. Then he heard a sound in the bushes on the other side of the picnic table and stopped to listen and then he heard the sound of footsteps in the grass from coming several directions.
“Wasters!”
He ran back to the pickup and pulled on the handle; it was locked and the
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