Zombie Off

by Scott Lee

The three weary souls began jogging down the parkway, the end of their journey through hell finally in sight. But the museum and the dock beyond might as well have been a thousand miles away with the hordes of zombies that still stood between them.

  They had only run about a hundred feet when they decided to make a detour through a small park on their right, as the increasing numbers of undead on the parkway forced their hand.

  A small, mostly glass building sat within the park, overturned tables and chairs scattered about in front of it. Behind the blood smeared windows they could see a host of zombies, pounding on the glass in an effort to get out. Taking out a few zombies that got in their way, the three avoided as many as possible as they continued their flight.

  Reaching Cherry Street on the far side of the park, they turned left and sprinted for 17th Street, which appeared to have a lower concentration of undead. Reaching the intersection with Race Street, their options were dwindling. Ahead of them 17th Street was filling with zombies, as was Race Street to their right. Behind them was no better as the zombies on the parkway were heading their way. To their left, Race connected back up with the parkway one block away, but in between the zombie count was smaller.

  “This way!” yelled Connor, as the moans of the dead increased around them.

  Bolting west on Race, they reached the parkway, but their escape was quickly cut off by a large horde of undead that formed quickly from the zombies in nearby Logan Square. There were so many zombies in and around the square that the numbers were quickly reaching swarm level.

  Looking around, the situation was quickly deteriorating. Behind them Race Street was filling with zombies, and ahead of them was the soon to be swarm.

  Turning right onto 18th Street, the three sought escape, but after running about 50 yards, their way was again blocked by hordes of undead.

  Suddenly, from behind them, they heard a man’s voice call out over the moans of the dead.

  “Over here!”

  Turning around, they looked upon the towering pillars of a huge church. Three large doorways were tucked in between the massive columns, and one of the doors was open. Waiving to them from the doorway was a man, about 40 years old, dressed in a priest’s robe.

  “There!” exclaimed Connor.

  Dashing for the door, the three raced up the marble steps and into the safety of the cathedral as the man slammed the heavy wooden door behind them. Inside, sunlight filtered into the massive cathedral from large windows in the towering dome, as well as through tall arched windows that ran the length of the main chamber on both sides, high above the arches. Three large stained glass windows also provided light from behind the large altar.

  Although the windows were large, they only partially lit the huge room. Catching their breath, the three turned to their rescuer.

  “Thank you,” said Connor, holding out his hand.

  The man gripped his hand firmly, smiling.

  “No problem, my son. Glad to be of help.”

  Connor held the man’s grip for a second, observing it briefly, then released it, a weak smile crossing his face.

  “Glad you opened the door when you did,” said Doug. “Things weren’t looking to good for us out there.”

  “Yes, thank you,” said Diana, softly.

  “Please, please. No more thanks. I just did what anyone else would have done,” he said, turning to Diana and smiling.

  “Please, come in and make yourselves comfortable,” the priest said. “My name is Father Anthony.”

  “Thank you, Father,” replied Doug.

  “Please, may I take your weapons? We don’t allow anyone to be armed on the premises.”

  “Sorry Father, not gonna happen,” said Connor, his smile now gone.

  “Please, my son. This is a house of God,” replied Father Anthony, a sympathetic look on his face.

  “Did you notice what’s outside? I really don’t think God cares,” responded Connor, his voice firm and unwavering. “The weapons stay.”

  Father Anthony locked gazes with Connor, then turned to Doug and Diana.

  “Sorry Father, what he says goes for us too,” said Doug, answering the unspoken question.

  Father Anthony looked at the three, then a smile returned to his face.

  “Please, come in and sit down. Rest. I’ll be back in a minute with something for you to eat and drink,” he said.

  Turning, he headed off through an alcove to their left.

  Once the priest was out of sight, Connor turned to his friends.

  “We’re getting out of here. Now,” he said, urgency in his voice.

  Without waiting for a response, he headed for the alcoves to the right of the pews and moved quickly towards the back of the church. Behind them, the sounds of the undead could be heard pounding on the door they had entered.

  Catching up, Diana rushed to his side, confused.

  “Connor, why are we leaving?” whispered Diana. “We’re safe here. We can rest.”

  Pulling her to the side, he looked her in the eyes. It was a look that scared her.

  “We stay, we die,” he said. “Now move.”

  “Buddy, you’re acting crazy,” said Doug. “I’m with Diana on this one.”

  Connor turned his gaze on Doug, who took a step back.

  “He’s not a priest,” said Connor.

  “What are you talking about?” said Doug.

  “When I shook his hand, it was the hand of someone who’s done hard labor. I also saw the edge of a tattoo peeking out from below his robes.”

  Doug and Diana’s eyes began to widen.

  “When we ran into the church, he never took his eyes off Diana,” he continued. “Does that seem like something a priest would do? And why is he wearing his mass robes? We’re in a freaking zombie apocalypse.”

  “Holy shit,” muttered Doug. “He’s hiding his appearance.”

  “Exactly,” replied Connor. “Do I need to go on?”

  “No,” said Doug, a grim look on his face. “I’m sorry I doubted you.”

  “Me too,” added Diana. “Now let’s get the hell out of here,” she said, as flashbacks of the mall went through her mind.

  The three stayed in the shadows as they continued towards the back of the cathedral. They hadn’t gone far when they heard voices to their left. Ducking into the dark recesses of one of the many side chambers that ran the length of the cathedral, they knelt down and listened.

  “I have some water and bread, my children . . . “

  There was a pause as the priest looked for the newcomers.

  “Shit,” said Father Anthony.

  Suddenly, another voice spoke up from the far alcoves.

  “Where the hell are they, Tony?” the unknown man said, seemingly annoyed.

  “They were here a minute ago, Duke. Two men and a pretty girl, just like I told you before. The bigger dude had an attitude and was armed to the teeth with edged weapons. Wouldn’t give ‘em up, even when I pulled the ‘house of God’ card.”

  “Well they’re not here now and they didn’t head out the front door, because our friends are still banging to get in. That means they’re likely still in the building somewhere, so I suggest you get your ass moving and find them.”

  “I’m on it.”

  “Let the others know the situation. I want everybody looking for them. No way we’re letting a pretty girl slip through our grasp.”

  The sound of footsteps echoed through the cathedral as Tony headed their direction.

  “And take off that stupid robe,” yelled Duke.

  The footsteps stopped momentarily and then started again, faster than before. Hidden in the shadows, they watched as Tony ran down the main isle and headed through a door in front of the far right pews.

  “What do we do now?” whispered Diana. “We can’t stay here. They’re sure to come back and search this area.”

  “What is this place?” asked Doug.

  “If I’m not mist
aken, it’s the Cathedral Basilica of Saints Peter and Paul,” said Diana.

  “Wait. This is the Cathedral Basilica?” said Connor.

  “Yes,” replied Diana. “Why?”

  “Because my neighbor, before the apocalypse, was an electrician, and he worked on rewiring this building,” said Connor, excitedly. “He showed me pictures and told me about it. I just didn’t put two and two together. Quick. Follow me.”

  Moving quickly from the shadows, they dashed across the open space in front of the pews to where the large altar stood, keeping their footfalls to a minimum. Moving behind it, they saw a set of stone stairs heading down, gold railing on either side. But what surprised them was the semicircle of chairs that sat near the entrance to the steps. Beer cans littered the area, as if some sort of party had been going on.

  “What the hell?” said Doug. “Strange place for a party.”

  Connors gaze swept across the layout of the chairs, a concerned look on his face. Picking up a beer can, he shook it, a small bit of liquid sloshing inside.

  “Where do the steps go?” asked Diana.

  “These lead to the catacombs,” said Connor, turning his attention back to the others.

  “Wait, you mean catacombs, as in where the dead bishops are buried?“

  “Yes. Now let’s go. Those men could return any second.”

  “Isn’t there another way out?” pleaded Doug.

  “Wait. The world is full of the living dead who are trying to eat you, and you’re afraid to go into the catacombs?” whispered Connor, a disbelieving tone in his voice.

  “Give me a break. It reminds me of the movie IT,” he said in defense. “I hate clowns.”

  “Those were sewers. These are catacombs. Now get your ass down there already,” whispered Connor.

  “Give me the flashlight,” said Diana. “I’ll go first.”

  As Connor handed her the flashlight, the sound of a door opening suddenly broke the silence, causing the three to freeze. Seconds later men’s voices could be heard ahead and to their left.

  “Tony said to search the entire cathedral. Check every corner. You two, check the spiral stairs. The rest of you, fan out. Check everywhere. Look behind and under every pew. Remember, Duke wants the girl unharmed if possible. Let’s go.”

  Moments later the sounds of chambering weapons and footsteps echoed throughout the massive room. Connor wasted no time as he signaled to his friends.

  “Go,” he whispered.

  Moving quietly down the stairs, the three came to a large wooden door, securely bolted and padlocked.

  “Damn,” said Diana, spotting the padlock.

  Connor moved past, and checked the lock.

  “It’s not locked,” he said quietly. “Just set to look like it’s locked.”

  “Then let’s go,” whispered Diana.

  Connor hesitated, looking at the door and surrounding walls. Grabbing the flashlight, he shined the muted beam at an area to the left of the door, near the bolt.

  “What are you looking at,” whispered Doug, coming to his side.

  “There are scratch marks on the stone,” he said, pointing to a series of long streaks.

  Shining the light onto the floor, he reached down and picked up a broken fingernail.

  “Someone really didn’t want to go through this door,” he whispered.

  “Why?” whispered Diana. “I know it’s creepy, but it’s not that bad. They’re just catacombs.”

  “It isn’t the catacombs they were afraid of,” whispered Connor, his look turning grim. “It’s the zombies that are roaming them.”

  Doug and Diana leaned against the wall, a defeated look on their face.

  “Please tell me you’re kidding,” whispered Diana.

  “How do you know?” whispered Doug. “I mean, they’re just scratch marks. Maybe the person was just claustrophobic?”

  “I wish I was wrong,” whispered Connor, but put the pieces together. “The semicircle of chairs at the top of the stairs, the beer cans . . . these sick bastards were having a party listening to people die. They probably put them in here for sport, maybe even took bets on how long before the undead got them.”

  “That’s seriously twisted,” whispered Doug.

  “The apocalypse can bring out the worst in human kind,” said Connor, softly.

  “We have to find another way out,” whispered Doug.

  Turning, the three started back up the stairs, but froze half way as the sounds of distant footsteps grew louder.

  “Shit,” said Connor. “Back down, quickly.”

  The three rushed back down the steps, stopping at the door.

  “We’re going in?” whispered Diana, worry on her face.”

  Connor took a deep breath and spoke, his eyes locked on Diana’s.

  “We either go in together, the three of us, with weapons and light, or Doug and I will be going in with nothing. Your choice,” he whispered. “I can tell you this, whatever the bandits have in store for you, it’s probably worse than what’s on the other side of that door.”

  Gripping here M48, she turned to the door, a resigned and determined look on her face.

  “Let’s go,” she whispered.

  Weapons drawn, the three slid back the bolt and slowly pushed open the heavy wooden door. They had placed the padlock back onto the latch in a way that, at first glance, made it appear to still be hooked closed.

  Stepping quickly inside, Diana closed the door slowly behind them as Doug and Connor checked their new surroundings. They were standing in a small hallway, about 25 feet long, which emptied into the larger, arched passageways where the old catacombs began and where the burials were located. Where the small hallway ended they could see side passages to the left and the right, and half way down the hall on the left was a metal door.

  Shining the light a few feet ahead, they could see large, congealed pools of crimson in the middle of the hall, with long, gory streaks heading away from them. Bloody footprints of various sizes covered the floor, and the walls were gore splattered and covered with blood.

  Moving cautiously forward, they had only taken a few steps before they heard the dreadful sounds of shuffling feet and footsteps.

  “We need to get through that metal door,” whispered Connor. “Go, go, go!”

  The three raced forward, arriving at the door just as the first of the undead rounded the corners in front of them. Seconds later the moans of the dead filled the catacombs.

  Grabbing the door handle, Doug pulled to no avail.

  “It’s locked!” said Doug.

  “Use the pry bar. Get it open. I’ll try and hold them off!” replied Connor, moving forward.

  To his surprise, Diana appeared at his side, her weapons raised. Behind her, the flashlight stood upright on the floor, lighting up the passage.

  “We’ll hold them off,” she said, never taking her eyes off the approaching zombies.

  Together, the two moved forward as death poured in. Connor drove one of the Twins through the open mouth of the closest zombie, a young businessman in a bloody suit and tie. Diana moved past, slamming the spike end of the M48 into an older female in a flowered blue dress.

  For each of the zombies they killed, two more appeared from the darkness beyond.

  “Doug, how’s that door coming?” yelled Connor.

  “Almost got it,” replied Doug.

  Driving the Twins through the chins of two more undead, Connor began to retreat. Diana, having just taken down two more elderly zombies, also fell back.

  “Doug!” Yelled Connor.

  Suddenly, the sound of snapping metal rang through the hall.

  “Got it!” said Doug. “Come on!”

  Diana drove her knife into the head of yet another elderly zombie, then turned and bolted for the door, grabbing the flashlight as she ran. Connor took the heads off two more ghouls before turning and racing for the exit.

  As soon as Connor passed through t
he door, Doug dashed inside, pushing the door closed behind them. Diana was already panning their surroundings with the flashlight, ready to continue their flight.

  Jenson and Marcus made their way up the aisle searching the pews, guns drawn and ready to fire. They were nearing the end, closest to the altar, when Marcus suddenly held up his hand, indicating silence.

  “You hear that?”

  “What?” asked Jenson.

  “I thought I heard someone yelling,” replied Marcus.

  Just then, they heard the faint the sound of metal snapping. Moments later, the dull thump of a door slamming shut reverberated in the floor.

  “Holy shit!!” he exclaimed. “I think they’re in the catacombs!”

  Giving a whistle, Jenson signaled to the other men in the room. Seconds later, they were all rushing to the stairs behind the altar.

  The three now stood at the entrance to the boiler room. Across the large expanse, past the plethora of large pipes and boilers, was another door. Wasting no time, the trio moved quickly across the room as the first of the undead slammed into the door behind them and tumbled into the room. Breaking into a run, they quickly reached the far door, which they hastily unlocked and opened. Behind them, more and more zombies were pouring into the room in pursuit.

  Flipping the lock on the doorknob, they raced through the door, closing it behind them, hopefully trapping the horde in the boiler room. Shining the flashlight ahead of them, they found themselves in a nicely finished basement room, with tables and chairs stacked along the wall to their left. Across the room, in the far corner, was another door.

  Running across the tiled floor, they quickly reached the door and took a moment to listen. Hearing nothing, they opened it, revealing a set of stairs.

  “Just like Joe described,” smiled Connor. “Let’s get the hell out of here, guys, before they figure out where we are.”

  “You don’t have to tell me twice,” said Doug, heading up the stairs.

  Connor and Diana closed the door behind them and followed him up, the sounds of the zombies pounding on the boiler room door fading with every step.

  The bandits rushed to the altar and raced around to the stairs. Heading down the steps, they reached the door and saw the lock. Four men stood at the door, weapons at the ready, as one of them pushed it open. Aiming their flashlights down the hall, they watched as a trail of zombies headed through the metal door, halfway down on the left. The moment the light hit the passage, the undead that were still in the hall immediately turned and headed for them, closing quickly.

  Without thinking, one of the men fired a shot as the closest zombie advanced on their position, blowing its brains out of the back of its skull. The shot echoed loudly throughout the cathedral as the men fell back and closed the door, setting the padlock back in place just as the zombies slammed into the door, pounding on it feverishly.

  “What the hell, dude?” said one of the men. “You damn near made me deaf.”

  “Sorry. Didn’t expect them to be that close,” he replied.

  “Anyone know where that door leads too?” asked another.

  “I’m not sure it goes anywhere,” said another man. “But if it does, I have a pretty good idea where it would go. Follow me.”

  Heading back up the stairs, the bandits raced from the altar and headed for the door to their left, where they had come from only minutes before.

  Doug reached the top of the stairs and listened at the door. Hearing nothing, he opened the door and walked through, stepping into a long hallway. To his right, the hallway was dark, but to his left he could see sunlight illuminating the passage further down where it made a right hand turn. Seconds later, Diana and Connor stepped into the hallway next to him.

  “That way,” said Connor, pointing to the light.

  The three turned and quickly raced down the hall. At the end, it turned right and followed a curving path back to the left. In the distance they could see a window where sunlight shined through.

  Without hesitating, the three bolted down the curving hallway. Reaching the apex of the curve, they came upon a large set of double wooden doors.

  “If I’m not mistaken, we’re behind the altar area. This door should lead us outside,” said Connor.

  Weapons ready, they opened one of the doors a small crack, sunlight momentarily blinding them. As their eyes adjusted, they could see a large parking lot in front of them. Surprisingly, there weren’t any zombies in the lot. In the distance, they could see undead walking the streets, but a black metal fence kept them from entering the cathedral parking area.

  Stepping outside, they ran down the steps and into the lot, pausing briefly as they checked their options. Just ahead of them, to their left, was a tall building, and another building stood to their immediate right. Everything around the Cathedral and the various buildings was parking area, all contained inside the metal fence.

  “Left?” asked Doug.

  “Yes,” replied Connor.

  Taking off across the lot, they headed for the larger parking area beyond. As they reached the edge of the Cathedral Basilica, Connor looked to his left and slid to a stop. Doug and Diana ran a few feet past before they managed to stop, inquiring looks on their faces.

  Without explaining, Connor raced toward a large black pickup truck with a split snowplow blade on the front. As the trio neared the truck, Doug questioned their detour.

  “I don’t think we have time to hotwire this thing.”

  “I don’t think we’ll need to,” said Connor as he reached the door. “Get in and get your seatbelts on. Quick!”

  Doug and Diana jumped in, with Doug climbing into the crew cab area. Both immediately fastened their belts. Connor climbed in after them and turned the key that was already in the ignition. The vehicle started up on the first try.

  “How the hell did you know the keys were in it?” asked Doug, amazed.

  “I didn’t,” replied Connor as he backed up the truck. “It just made sense that you’d leave the keys in the ignition, with the apocalypse and all. You don’t want to be searching for keys if you need to bug out quick.”

  Shifting the truck into drive, he headed for the exit that dumped them onto 17th Street, continuing to explain.

  “The plow blades have blood all over them, but the windows are clean. That told me they use this vehicle often. Besides, it’s not like they’d expected any car thieves. The place is surrounded by zombies and it’s gated.”

  “You never cease to amaze me,” said Doug, shaking his head.

  “Just the power of observation and some simple logic, my friend,” said Connor. “Hold on!”

  Doug and Diana braced themselves as they slammed into the gate, sending the two halves flying through the air. Turning the wheel hard to the right, Connor slammed his foot onto the gas pedal as the tires squealed in protest. Just then, shots rang out.

  The three ducked their heads low as they raced down 17th Street, plowing through zombies as gunshots continued to ring out behind them. The split plow blade was the perfect weapon for slicing through zombie filled streets. It worked just like a cowcatcher on a train, sweeping the zombies to the side without taking the full impact of the bodies.

  As they neared Vine Street, the sound of bullets penetrating metal added urgency to their escape as bullet holes riddled the wall of the truck bed. Hitting the brakes, the truck did a power slide as it turned onto Vine, fishtailing as it straightened out and continued on. As they raced along the far edge of the parking lot, Doug raised his head and chanced a look.

  “Oh shit,” he muttered. “This wasn’t the only vehicle with keys in it,” he said.

  Across the parking lot, Doug could see three more pickups racing for the exit, all with armed men standing in the back.

  “We gotta get out of here. Fast!” exclaimed Doug.

  Hitting the gas, the powerful 5.7 liter, 395 HP V8 engine roared in response as the truck headed for the Logan Square traffi
c circle, swerving briefly onto the sidewalk and grass to avoid some abandoned vehicles.

  “Damn,” said Connor, a slight smile crossing his face. “This thing has some power.”

  Braking hard, the truck skidded as it made the right turn into the circle. Back on the gas, Connor targeted the continuation of the Ben Franklin Parkway as he weaved between cars and picked off more wandering undead. Exiting the circle, they hit the straight stretch that would take them to the museum, and not far beyond that, their boat.

  Racing up the multi-lane parkway, they continued to avoid vehicles and plow through increasing numbers of undead as Doug looked behind them, watching for signs of the pursuing bandits. So far, he saw nothing. The other pickups didn’t have the luxury of the plow blade, so he figured they had to be more cautious about hitting the undead.

  They were halfway to the museum when Connor began to slow. At the same time, Doug called out from the back.

  “They just hit the circle,” he yelled. “But they got a lot of zombies in their way. They’re being drawn to the noise.”

  “Tell me about it,” said Diana, looking ahead.

  As Doug turned in response, his heart sank. In the distance, the undead were swarming, drawn to the parkway with the sounds of the gunshots and the pickups. On top of that, there seemed to be a pileup of vehicles at the traffic loop in front of the museum, leaving the three with few if any options for escape.

  As Connor reached the traffic oval, he cut the wheel to the left and headed for two small compact cars that were part of the jam.

  “Brace yourselves!” he yelled.

  Hitting the gas, the truck slammed into the two vehicles, the wedge of the plow blade cutting between them. The force of the impact, combined with the weight of the 5000lb machine, sent the two smaller vehicles flying out of the way as the truck continued onto a sidewalk that paralleled a long, straight parking lot.

  Ahead of them, hundreds of zombies moved to intercept them. Even with the size and power of the pickup, they’d not be able to plow through that many. Seeing a gap in the trees to their right, Connor turned the wheel and headed through, sending a half dozen zombies flying in the process. Giving the truck everything it had, he raced forward, weaving around the thicker pockets of undead as he made for the museum.

  Breaking through the grove of trees, the truck’s large, off road tires kicked up earth and grass as it fought for traction against the mounting numbers of undead.

  “There!” yelled Diana, seeing a gap in the mass of undead.

  Aiming for a fountain ahead and to the right, the truck continued on, undead pounding the vehicle as it sped past. Hitting the gap, the truck picked up some speed as it approached the far end of the traffic oval. Across the street were the famous “Rocky steps” of the Philadelphia Art Museum.

  “When I tell you, hit that switch!” Connor said to Diana, pointing to a red switch below the dash, in between the seats.

  Pressing the pedal to the floor, he turned the truck and headed for the steps, which had fewer zombies on them. Picking up speed, he hit the curb, sending another seven zombies flying through the air.

  “Now!” yelled Connor.

  Diana flipped the switch as the truck sped towards the stairs, watching as the plow blade slowly lifted on its hydraulics. As the blade rose up, zombie parts began to fly as it no longer pushed them out of the way, but instead sliced them like salami.

  Just as the plow reached its maximum height, the truck hit the steps, rocking the trio violently in the cab. Connors foot never lifted off the floor as the truck continued its violent, bone-jarring climb. A path of destruction was left in its wake as the undead in its path were thrown aside, dismembered, or crushed beneath it.

  “Get ready to bail!” yelled Connor.

  Reaching the top steps, the truck went airborne and slammed onto the sidewalk, crushing an unsuspecting zombie like a grape beneath it. The wheels, which never stopped spinning, immediately gained traction and launched the truck forward, sending it racing over a low set of bollards and past another fountain as it headed for the final set of steps that led to the massive Corinthian columns of the main entrance.

  Hitting the lower set of stairs with speed, the truck went airborne again, landing halfway up the final flight of steps. Hitting the breaks as they landed, the truck skidded to a halt feet from the towering pillars.

  “Head for the museum!” yelled Connor as he slammed the truck into park.

  Grabbing the Twins he jumped out of the truck and took out a nearby zombie that had avoided their onslaught.

  Doug and Diana climbed out seconds later, stumbling slightly as they shook off the effects of the violent ascent to the entrance.

  Together, the three turned and raced for the large glass entrance doors of the museum as yet another swarm descended upon them. In the distance, three pickup trucks skidded to a halt on the parkway and watched as the three escapees disappeared into the museum.