Zombie Resurrection: #3 in the Tom Zombie Series by H.D. Timmons by H.D. Timmons - Read Online

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Zombie Resurrection - H.D. Timmons

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Part One

Tom frequently glanced at the back-lit face of his watch to note the hours since he’d stowed away in the tractor trailer truck leaving Fort Sheridan. Enveloped by the constant darkness inside the truck, he recalled childhood notions of what lurks in the dark. The monsters under the bed, or in the closet, that could spring out at any moment to do harm or worse—eat people alive. The monsters lurking around him now in the pitch black of the 20'x8' truck were real and quite capable of eating him alive, but they were indifferent to his existence. Tom was thankful for the way he’d been altered by some military concoction that made him immune. Not so much immune rather than more zombie-like. Maybe someday he’ll find out how it was possible to be among zombies and not be devoured.

The heat had increased, along with the humidity, making the stench unbearable for Tom during the first six hours in close quarters with his decomposing traveling companions. Even his own vomit and feces in the corner was nothing compared to the disgusting odor of hot, rotting flesh that surrounded him, smelling like week-old road kill in the middle of July.

After twelve hours, he had grown desensitized enough to the smells that he no longer felt the trigger of a gag reflex, but still wore his shirt pulled up around his nose and mouth. The groans, gurgles and moans from the hot stinking mass were mercifully kept to a minimum, with only sporadic guttural uproars when the truck lurched to and fro, or bounced over rough terrain.

Since the days of the failed attack on NATO members during their summer summit at Chicago’s McCormick Place, Tom felt the need to get a closer look at what Major Fleming was planning next. He couldn’t explain why he felt he needed to, he felt compelled.

It was after several days and nights of surveillance at the fort that an opportunity presented itself. One evening Tom observed soldiers herding zombies into a convoy of tractor trailers. They were being moved, but why and where? Tom knew that a move this big had to be the break he was waiting for.

Sleep was necessary, but not easy in these conditions. Nodding off on the floor for a few minutes of precious shut eye now and then was all Tom could hope for. When he was awake the eerie darkness held Tom’s thoughts; hanging thick in the air mingled with the humid aura of decay and his own rank sweat. After the hypno-brain-fuck he underwent at the hands of Major Fleming, many of his memories were still new to him while others seemed chronologically intact.

Tom still grappled with the fact that he murdered a man in cold blood. Even though he couldn’t remember committing the act, he couldn’t avoid the stark reality that he had been brainwashed to kill an innocent congressman—well, as innocent as any politician can be, he supposed.

As he tried to sleep, recollections leapt through the hoops of betrayal by his old partner Roger Norton causing his mind to fill the darkness with images from the past as slumber took hold.


Daylight appeared—neurotransmitters retrieving a memory. The reflex muscles of Tom’s eyes squeezed shut against the brightness as he slept.

The memory was warm, familiar. His partner Roger Norton jovially slapped Tom on the back for a job well done as they left the precinct house on a bright afternoon. They’d lost their collar—at least according to the official police report—but were gleeful at the end of the day to each be going home twenty-five hundred dollars richer.

A simple tip off that the cops were on their way. Oops! Bad guys got away with the drugs. Boom! Money in your pocket. Thanks for the gum-ball.

Tom and Roger had a nice racket going. Made the drug dealers look smarter and the entire precinct look like idiots, but they didn’t care as long as they were padding their retirement account.

A stop at a bar to celebrate, a little too long. Then, home to his wife Paula to continue the celebration. She wouldn’t have any of it. She pushed Tom away. He reeked of alcohol and arrogance. Tom recalled his wife was always cold when he was hot. At