“Go,” I urge. “We gotta run. I can make it in time.”
He mumbles a few obscenities to himself, sprinting across the room where Felecia’s beckoning us over. Her slender fingers raise into the air, counting down for me to run. Three. Two.
The window shatters. An explosion of glass bursts into the air. They’re breaking through! The addicts actually broke the window.
All I can do is make a run for it, letting the door slam open as two infects force their way inside, trampling their partner without a care in the world. I’m halfway across the room before they even hit the floor. They must not realize who they’re chasing, the only reason Neil was faster than me was because I let him be.
Felecia slams the door the second I’m through, terrified expression plastered on her face. Why does she look like that? It wasn’t even that close, I mean, we’ve been through far worse. She’s not mad at Marty, is she? I get he kinda dropped the ball on this one, but he’s not exactly used to this like we are. It was an innocent mistake any one of us could have made. Besides, we should have checked it ourselves.
Maxwell’s hopping onto a boat as the other two run down the dock. Judging by the smoke rising from the water, they’ve knocked at least a few in. I don’t know how long it takes to start a boat, but something tells me it’s longer than these meth heads are going to give us. And we don’t have the luxury of locking the door because we’re the ones on the outside.
We make a run for– wait, stop! Sledgehammer. Bear with me, got an idea! I know there’s no time but if this works, it might buy us some. If this is anything like the lobster boat, it might take a minute to get going.
Sledgehammer in hand, I follow Felecia down the wooden planks, not a second to spare. They’re piling through the door, I can hear them trying to squeeze through all at once, too eager to work together as a cohesive unit. Their desperation is their weakness.
I skid to a stop, swinging the giant hammer underhanded at the edge of the dock, knocking a board loose on one side before hopping to the other and popping it completely out of place. Felecia stops, noticing I’m not behind her and doubles back.
With another swing of the hammer, the second board pops out of place. Felecia grabs it, yanking it free from the other side, catching onto my plan. Trapdoor. Let’s just hope they’re not smart enough to balance on the support beams that run the length of the dock. I’m not stupid, I know some of them will, they’re like squirrels with bird feeders.
Is that an engine? It sounds like an engine, and judging by Felecia’s smile as we pop up the seventh board, it has to be. Max got it going.
The first infected drug addict tumbles over the edge of the dock, like he didn’t even realize there was a hole there. He just stepped right into it.
The second in line tries to stop, and he would, if the third infect didn’t crash right into him. They both topple over, splashing us with ocean water as they plunge into the abyss and sizzle. My plan worked. Something actually worked!
Our laughing high five turns into a quick hug as we watch another drugged out zombie run straight for us like he doesn’t realize the ground stops. Even midair, he’s still thinking he’s sprinting through the finish line, little chicken legs flapping in the breeze.
She leans against me with a cocky smile, her Disney Princess eyes sparkling in the moonlight. “We’re un-fucking-stoppable. I mean come on, sledgehammer, brilliant. Let’s do another couple boards, it’ll take a minute for the boat to be ready.”
“He’s beating himself up over not locking the door,” I say, popping out another couple boards, just to be on the safe side.
“I know.” She yanks the sea battered wood out of her end like we actually discussed doing this beforehand. The way we work together, she’s right, we are unstoppable. “I’m not mad at him, the amount of mistakes we’ve made, it’s not that. Noah, an infect threw a brick through the window.”
“Must have been a really big insect.”
“Oh my god, shut up you idiot. Not an insect, an infect. See, I knew it sounded stupid, I’m never calling them that again,” she says, slapping at my shoulder. “He actually used a brick. That’s why the glass broke. Not like a brick brick, he picked up one of those cinder blocks with the rope tied to it, and smashed the window. They’re getting smarter. They are, we’ve been right all along. I think what you said was right, the longer they’re like this, the more they remember or evolve or something. It’s five days, where are they gonna be in five weeks?”
“Shit, incoming!” I shout before I have a chance to fully process what she just said.
The weight room hero with the chewed off ears is heading straight for us, flying through the air like this is the long jump and he’s freakin’ Tyrone. I hate these physically fit dead people. They all need to be locked in the gyms they came from!
Each board’s gotta be a foot and we’re on our eleventh. And this dude’s acting like he’s hopping over a puddle in the parking lot. He’s gonna land right on us.
I don’t know what else to do other than toss the sledgehammer at Flying Black He-Man.
It spirals straight for his chest, colliding with a sick snap just below his neck. The force of the blow throws him off balance, putting a sudden stop to his momentum.
He crashes back first into the board I didn’t get to finish knocking out of place. Bones crunch on contact as he folds the wrong way before splashing into the smokey water below us.
“Well,” Felecia shrugs, “it stopped most of them. Boat should be good to go, come on, before we get more jumpers.”
I follow her down the dock to the sleekest, black piece of floating metal I have ever seen. It looks like it jumped right out of an action movie. I can’t see this thing being used for anything other than importing cocaine while Jason Statham and Jackie Chan fight to the death with helicopters shooting at them from above. If it doesn’t have machine guns that spring out of hidden compartments, I am going to be extremely disappointed.
Two seats in front, three in back, exactly enough room for all of us. Don’t know why Batman needs so many seats, this is clearly the aquatic version of the Batmobile. Dammit, sitting in the front passenger seat makes me Robin, doesn’t it?
Maxwell’s shaking her head when we climb aboard, grinning from ear to ear. “You two, I swear. With you guys training our next batch of zombie fighters, this world might actually stand a chance. Leesh, you really know how to drive this thing?”
“We’ll find out,” she says, sliding into the driver’s seat. “They’re all pretty much the same, it’s like cars. Well, sorry in advance, this is gonna suck. We are gonna get wet as hell. I was hoping we’d have a cabin. Hang tight. Suck on this you stupid Fletcher twins,” she shouts while pulling away from the dock.
“That girl’s anger issues frighten me,” Marty whispers.
“Think that’s scary,” she smiles, the wicked Felecia smile that turns me on to no end. “Wait until we hit the waves. I think we’re gonna have a new peepee club inductee.”
“I don’t like the sounds of this,” he whines, looking for something to grab hold of as we start getting up to speed.
“Oh my god,” Sami squeals in delight. “When we get to our new home, we are so doing this with a tube behind the boat.”
“We are soooo not,” Maxwell groans, clearly clutching the back of my seat, I can literally feel her trembling through it as the engine hums even louder. “What the fuck are you laughing at?” she shouts in Marty’s direction.
“This is Planes, Trains And Automobiles,” he says with a girly giggle. “Except it’s Speedboats, Helicopters And School Buses. Armored buses. A Stryker.”
“Don’t forget the Delivery America truck,” I add, secretly gripping onto the sides of my seat for dear life. “And there was the tanker truck too.”
“Oh and the bike,” Felecia shoots over her shoulder. “We rode a mountain bike through Bayport, that was fun. The paddle boat. And the rowboat too.”
“The fuckin’ lawnmower,�
�� Marty laughs. “We escaped a zombie invasion on a god damn tractor. We have seen some shit.”
“Don’t know if it counts,” I say, trying to look behind me as the wind chokes off my words. “But I kinda rode a log down the river for a second there.”
“Hell yeah you did.” Marty leans over to pat my shoulder. “Hands down, craziest shit I’ve ever seen. This has been one hell of a ride. One hell of a day.”
“You can say that again, Del,” I shout. “Just keep your hands out of my pillows.”
“No shit,” he shouts, clapping his hands. “You know that movie? You are way too young for that.”
“Every Thanksgiving, Mom’s favorite movie.”
“I don’t know what you guys are talking about,” Max says with a giggle. “I think you’re gonna have to explain it to me. And you can start by wiping that fucking dumb-ass smile off your rosy fucking cheeks. Then you can give me a fucking automobile.”
We all scream with laughter as she recites the rental car scene word for word.
“That’s my goddamn super soldier,” Marty shrieks between raspy laughs. “You got one more flight left in you there, Max?”
“You know it, just get me in that cockpit.”
CHAPTER 34
“There,” Maxwell yells over the roaring white noise of the ocean, her voice almost too shaky to make out. “That’s Camp Corrigan. Looks like the ships are gone. Can you pull this thing up to the dock?”
“With my eyes closed,” Felecia shouts back, teeth chattering.
How long does it take for hypothermia to set in? Because we’ve been cruising along the coast for about two hours now and have been trembling for most of it. My goosebumps have developed their own goosebumps. When I rub my arms to try to bring some warmth back to them, I could seriously mistake myself for a ribbed condom. Still, beats the hell out of being eaten alive.
“Son of a bitch,” Felecia groans, shivering between every syllable. “Guys, we’ve got a problem.”
“Of course we do,” Marty chatters back. “When don’t we have a problem? We may as well be a god damn Ben Stiller movie. Let me guess, not enough gas to get us to the dock.”
“Well, there’s that too,” she sighs, checking the gauge. “The pier is crawling with dead people.”
Holy shit she’s right. That’s not the dock swaying in the breeze, those are soldiers. Zombie soldiers, shoulder to shoulder, standing room only. When one sways, they all do, an entire stadium doing the wave. Why the hell are they all up there? What were they doing, enjoying the sunset? Because that was hours ago, they should have moved on by now.
“There’s supposed to be a battleship docked there,” Maxwell says, pointing at the pier with a shaky hand. “I bet someone took off with it. These bastards followed them to the end. It was a backup evac plan, just in case the buses and choppers weren’t big enough to fit everyone. Obviously, that wasn’t an issue.”
There’s too many of them on the pier, and the fact that they’re in fatigues means they’re not going to be the dumb, lazy, junkie infects I don’t mind dealing with. I hate military zompires!
“Fuck it, everybody hang on tight,” Felecia screams, cutting the wheel and speeding towards the shore.
She does the boat equivalent of stepping on the accelerator, whatever that is in nautical terms. All I know is we’re all of a sudden going faster than we already were and the little tiny strip of land is getting larger by the second. Is she doing what I think she’s doing?
Yep, she’s going for it.
We leave the waves for the sand, not stopping until at least halfway up the beach. I don’t know what the hell happened at this base, but it couldn’t have been good. The tallest building definitely got bombed, it’s clear from here and I can only see by the light of the moon. The entire upper half is missing. Just gone, completely. There’s a tank with its treads partway in the sand, cannon pointed back at the base. Fences are down. Craters everywhere from explosions. It’s a literal warzone.
The infected dock dwellers get too caught up in the moment, launching themselves from the platform. The fall gives them just enough time to think about their mistake before the ocean water boils them alive like lobsters dropping into the pot. It’s not until the first batch have been incinerated that the others realize that may not be the best approach, no matter how delicious we look. And trust me, Felecia all wet, ocean water dripping– stop it Noah, so not the time!
Maxwell steadies the rocket launcher on her shoulder and fires a single shot at the pier before they can make their escape, cutting them off at the pass.
Their blown up bodies rain down with the rubble, showering the high tide line. It only took out a handful, you know, like me with one swing of my sword, only not quite as many. But she wasn’t trying to kill them, she knows how useless that is, she was trying to strand them out there.
And it looks like it worked. With their walkway blown to bits, they’re gonna have a hell of a time trying to get across the saltwater moat. This right here, this is why we’re going to get to that airstrip before Buckley. We’re coming Caylee, we’re coming for you!
“Go, go,” Maxwell screams, despite the fact that we’re already hopping out of the boat with all our earthly possessions. That makes it sound like we have rolling luggage and backpacks full of clothes and personal belongings when it’s really just a single duffle bag and the swords on our backs. “The radio tower, ten o’clock, that’s gotta be the landing strip!”
The moon overhead lights up the sky just enough to see, casting its blue tint over our dying world. I can make out the satellite dishes on top of the skinny building, she’s right, that certainly looks like an airport. Let’s just hope it hasn’t sustained as much damage as the rest of this outpost. And that whoever took the battleship didn’t take the helicopters with it.
I can’t help but shiver as the breeze chills my soaked clothes. Every inch, from head to toe, completely saturated. The soggy fabric clings to my skin, dragging me down like an overflowing diaper. That does not mean I soiled myself, my cheeks are clenched so tight I’ll be constipated until I’m thirty. They’re just really soggy, and cold, and heavy, and I feel like I’m slipping into a wet bathing suit. And this cool night air isn’t helping matters any.
But I have to admit, running across the crater filled lawn is warming me up a little, keeping blood pumping to my heart. Still, my teeth won’t stop chattering. If my community of goosebumps get any bigger, I’m going to have to start naming them and appointing city officials.
Felecia wasn’t lying when she said it was going to be a wet ride. It’d probably feel nice in the afternoon sun on a hot day, but we had neither of those things. Slowing down would have helped, obviously, but in a race against time, slowing down isn’t an option.
Judging by the size of this perfectly manicured field, other than the holes and body parts scattered across it, I’d say this was where they held graduations or whatever you call it in the military. Seems like they’d call it a commencement ceremony or something. A warrior’s wayfinding. A soldier’s summit. The commando–
The airstrip! Max was right, I can see it on the other side of the bleachers. Is that a giant fence surrounding it though? Dammit, you couldn’t make it easy on us, could you? Just once? This thing is huge, it’s gotta be twenty feet, strings of barbed wire adorning the top. I swear to god, there better be a convenient little door with one of those latch locks like you see on tennis courts or playgrounds.
If the damn ocean would shut up for just a second, maybe I could think and try to figure out what the hell we’re going to do about this fence situation. We’re moving further from shore with every step, the sound of the surf should be getting quieter, not louder. Or, no, you know what, that’s just the sound of our Santa sack of weapons bouncing off my hip. Only, I’m holding it tightly to my side and it’s not getting any quieter. If it’s not the bag, it’s gotta be the waves, right? What else…
Shit! A quick peek over my shoulder as I race between car
sized potholes in the lawn confirms exactly what I didn’t want it to confirm. That it is not the waves, not the waves at all! That is a wave of infected infantrymen emerging from the desecrated buildings.
The explosion on the dock must have disrupted them from whatever it is they do when they’re not trying to eat us. They’re in the shadow of the building, I can’t make out how many there are but if their steady roar is any indication, it’s way too freakin’ many. Easily a football team or two, benchwarmers included, as well as the coaching staff, the office staff, friends and family, the entire stadium as well, even the guy manning the spotlight, and probably the janitors.
“We gotta climb the fence,” Maxwell calls out, taking up the rear. “There’s no entrance on this side.”
“What do you mean there’s no entrance?” I shout over my shoulder. “The fence is too high, we’ll never make it over before they reach us.”
“Before who reach us? I took out the dock.”
“Behind you.”
“Oh fuck me,” she whimpers, quickening her pace as much as running with a rocket launcher in your hands will allow.
If we get caught on top of that fence, trying to maneuver our way over the barbed wire when they slam into it all at once, we’re either getting knocked off, or the fence is coming down. Not to mention, I don’t know if I can make it over with this duffle bag holding me back, it’s not exactly light, or little. And I’m not willing to leave it behind. If this plan falls through, I know, I don’t wanna think about it, but if we don’t get there before Buckley, we’re going to need every weapon we have just to give us a fighting chance in this war.
“Maxwell,” I gasp, choking on the cold air flooding my esophagus. “Can you shoot the bottom of the fence?”
“I don’t know if I’m gonna have time to stop and load it. Besides, it’s our last missile. Do we really waste it on a fence?”
“We’ve got no choice,” Felecia screams, pointing upward. “Razor wire at the top. We’re not getting over that. We’ve still got grenades, right?”
Blood Type Infected (Book 5): The Departed Page 21
