by Jake Bible
The rest of the sisters flank us, herding us through the hole after the first two. I’m pretty sure it’s Lacy and Belinda up ahead. Zs that try to get in at us are cut down fast. There is no time for the undead fuckers to even give us the evil eye. They barely get a hand outstretched and a moan out of their throats before the hand is severed and the throat is sliced open.
Shots are being fired, but I have no idea if they are doing any good or not. All I see are the sisters and their handy work.
Not to say there aren’t plenty of Zs that get through the sister’s defenses. Stella hacks a few to death, a machete in her hand as she fights by my side. I do more spikey spikey stabbing. Stuart is close by and he empties a pistol into the heads of a surging group of Zs. Most of them drop. Some of them don’t.
He goes down in a pile of undead. I yell, choosing not to use words and just use my very loud voice, and a couple of the Zs glance up at me. I jam the spike through one then the other’s head, kicking the corpses off as soon as they are still. But that leaves three more on top of Stuart. He struggles to keep them from biting him, but he’s losing strength as their weight bears down on him.
I go to stab one of the Zs, but there’s no head left. Then the other two end up headless and the echoes of the far off shots reach my ears. Man, you can never say enough good things about snipers.
The ratatatatata of automatic fire erupts behind us and I look back as I help Stuart to his feet. Ha. That’s funny. I help him up. It’s always the other way around.
We look back and see some of the PCs emptying their carbines into the herd of Zs chasing us down. There is no way they can take them all. As soon as their magazines are empty, they are swarmed and end up being shredded right there, so close to sanctuary, so close to a life off the road.
That really pisses me off.
We made it all this way and people are still fucking dying. Fuck that!
I dive in with a renewed energy. Any exhaustion I was feeling, any lethargy from the years in this fucking Hell followed by months and months on the road, is gone. Bitches, Jace has got his second wind!
Which is immediately knocked out of me as a fast fucker tackles me about the waist. My back slams into the asphalt and all the air is sent flying out of my lungs. I gasp and struggle to breathe, but the Z is right on my chest, keeping my lungs from filling up. The thing snaps its jaws at my face and I turn one way then turn the other to keep from being a cheek sandwich.
I can see spots and my lungs burn without fresh air. My arm weakens and I can’t get an angle with the spike. I just keep stabbing the thing in the ribs over and over again even though I know it is doing nothing.
Then it’s yanked up off me by Stella and Charlie takes its head off with a swipe of a machete. I know I’ve expressed my love of snipers, now let me express my love of machetes.
God bless you, machetes! May your blades stay forever sharp and your handles always slip free!
My family helps me to my feet and we start to run. That seems like the smart thing to do.
“Where are we headed?” I yell.
They have no idea what I’m saying.
“We need to get to Baseline!” Stella yells. “Then work our way back to Kittredge Hall!”
I’m guessing Kittredge Hall is our base of operations. I’m hoping we have more guns there. And machetes. And chainsaws. And bazookas and some grenades on nuclear warheads and—
“Jace!” Stella yells, getting me focused again.
We keep running as the sisters widen our avenue of escape. I glance back and see most of the Consortium soldiers falling under the never-ending attack from the Z herd. But we still have some of Lourdes’s people as well as all of our survivors.
I don’t see all of the sisters, though. That’s not good. If any of us should fall, it sure as shit shouldn’t be one or any of them. The human race can do without a Jace, but it fucking needs the killing machines that are Elsbeth’s sisters if it’s going to live through the next decade.
We run until our lungs burn and our legs are noodles. We finally reach Baseline Road and then skid to a stop.
The herd behind us is only half of what we are up against. The real threat is the herd in front of us. Thousands more Zs shamble along Baseline. They see us instantly and we freeze, the living meat in an undead sandwich.
“What are you doing?” Elsbeth yells. “Move!”
“Where?” Stella shouts as Elsbeth starts running parallel to the herd. “We can’t get back to the Hall!”
“Don’t need to!” Elsbeth replies. “They’ll be here before that!”
“What the hell are you talking about?” Charlie shouts. “Who will be?”
Elsbeth grins. It’s that knowing grin of hers when she has a secret she doesn’t want to share, but is also dying to share at the same time. That woman does love her suspense and dramatic reveal, I tell you what.
No one argues. If Elsbeth has a plan, which she seems to have, and she knows where she is going, which she seems to do, then we’d be idiots not to go along for the ride.
Yes, yes, I know I am an idiot, but I’m not that much of an idiot.
We’re heading northeast along Baseline, keeping the Zs to our left. There are a couple of screams, but we are moving too fast now for me to look back and see who we might have lost. Right now all I can think about is myself and the two Stanfords with me.
God, where is Greta? Is she safe? Is she locked down somewhere? Maybe at this Kittredge Hall place? I fucking hope so. Man, I really, really fucking hope so.
“There!” Elsbeth yells and turns us towards the herd.
Okay, she’s lost her fucking mind.
The sisters sprint ahead of us all and begin clearing a way through. They say fuck it to trying to kill the Zs and only aim for the legs. Rotted jeans, pants, capris, and long skirts get hacked to bits as the sisters’ blades cut through the material and lop off thighs and calves. Those Zs wearing miniskirts don’t have to worry about their clothes getting ruined, they just get the metal to skin treatment.
And why the hell would anyone wear a miniskirt in this weather? Jesus. Stupid fucking Zs.
We push through and Elsbeth leads us across a frozen, overgrown lawn to a long, brick building. Hold on. I know this building,
“The jail?” I ask, but no one listens because I’m marble-mouth Jace.
I see the sign and realize it’s not the jail, but campus security. Huh. How did I miss that before?
Elsbeth shoves open the doors and locks them in place as we run inside. John, Reaper, the Fitzpatricks, including Melissa even though she’s technically a Billings, Lourdes, Stuart, some of the Consortium soldiers, followed by the last of the PCs and then the sisters.
We get the doors shut and bolted just as the herd hits us.
“Furniture!” Stuart yells and everyone scrambles to grab what they can and brace the doors.
Chairs, desks, couches, more desks, more chairs, a refrigerator. Hold on. A refrigerator? I see gouge marks on the tile floor coming from what I guess is a break room. Shit just keeps piling up until the doors are covered and the only evidence of the Z herd outside is the constant banging and clawing on the glass. Plus the never-fucking-ending moans and groans and hisses.
I swear, if we live through this and rebuild here in Boulder, I am passing a no-moaning ordinance.
“We need to find the back way,” Stella says. “Maybe we can slip out and get around the herd. Double back to Kittredge Hall.”
I tap her on the shoulder and shrug.
“That’s where we are based,” she says. “You know that.”
I shake my head.
“Yes, you do,” Stella insists. “It’s where you had us set up. Don’t you remember?”
I shake my head.
“Do you remember any of the planning and getting ready for the Consortium?” she asks.
I shake my head.
“Fucking Kramer,” she snarls.
I nod.
“We don’t need to go to
Kittredge Hall,” Elsbeth says. “We’re fine here.”
“No, we’re not,” Stuart says. “Do you hear that out there, El? That will eventually get inside and kill us.”
“We should get on the roof,” she says. “Better view.”
“Better view?” Stuart frowns. “What the hell are you up to?”
“You’ll see,” she says. “They are late, but they’ll be here.”
Elsbeth hunts around for the door that will lead us to the roof and we follow like lost children. It’s a bit of a role reversal. Up the stairs we go and we come out onto the roof where we have a perfect view of the massive herd that has us surrounded. Everyone looks from the herd to Elsbeth, from Elsbeth to the herd. No one is happy about our situation.
Elsbeth isn’t happy either, especially since we are missing Lacy. She fell back in the herd, keeping Belinda from getting eaten by a couple of the fast ones. All of the sisters look like shit. They also look like they could jump down off the roof and rip the herd apart with their bare hands. But even that would be a stretch for their abilities.
We wait. And we wait. I hear a crash below and start to say something, but before I can I hear something else. A familiar sound. A deadly sound.
Several of us point at the same time as we see the tank come into view. The main gun is aimed right at us and I think it’s game over, but instead of firing its shells, it opens fire with the fifty calibers it has mounted. I can see someone standing up from the turret, spraying heavy caliber slugs this way and that, shredding the Zs where they stand.
“What the fuck?” I ask as I notice what’s behind the tank.
For miles I see vehicles. And standing in those vehicles are heavily armed people. They rip into the herd, unloading their weapons with abandon. There is a glee about how they cut through the herd that looks familiar. It’s almost a party atmosphere, a celebration of violence that makes me squirm a little.
Then, as the tank gets closer, I realize what’s so familiar about it all. First, it’s the music. Classic rock cranked up to eleven. Second, it’s the top hat.
Last, it’s all the fucking goggles the damned crazy sons of bitches are wearing! Motherfucking apocalypse goggles! God, I hate goggles.
“Son of a bitch,” Stuart says as things click for him about the same time they do for me. “Mr. Flips brought the cannibal cavalry.”
Everyone stands there and stares, except for Elsbeth and the sisters. They just smile those killer smiles and watch as the cannibal army keeps pushing through the herd. The vast majority of the vehicles are open-bed trucks with shirtless crazies standing in the back, flame throwers scorching the living fuck out of the Zs. They slash and burn, cutting the numbers of the undead down exponentially with every block they drive.
A radio crackles and all eyes turn from the impossible scene to Elsbeth. She casually pulls out a radio from her pocket and puts it to her mouth.
“Hello, Mr. Flips,” she says. “You’re late.”
“We got here as fast as we could,” he replies over the radio. “Had a little trouble taking the tank off the soldiers below. It looked like they wanted it for themselves so they could turn tale and run. I guess loyalty to your mother wasn’t their biggest priority.”
“Camille is dead,” Elsbeth says. “And she wasn’t my mother.”
“She wasn’t?” Mr. Flips asks. “Okay. Whatever you say. Doesn’t matter to me. Where are you right now?”
“We are on campus in the security office building,” Elsbeth says.
Even over the violence happening out in the city, I hear another crash from below. I grab Stella’s arm and point back at the stairs. She cocks her head and I mime being a Z. She sighs and looks at Stuart.
“Sounds like they’ve gotten inside,” Stella says.
“Let them,” Stuart says. “Once Flips and the cannies have the streets cleared then we’ll have them make as much noise as possible and draw out the ones that have gotten in. I doubt they’ll be able to get up the stairs at us.”
“The fast ones will,” Charlie says.
“Then we block the doors,” Stuart says. “We can wait them out. Better safe than reckless. We’ve made it this far. No need to risk our asses to kill some stray Zs downstairs.”
Everyone nods their heads. Then one by one we go back to looking at the cannies do an amazing job at destroying the herd.
Also, one by one we get tired of watching the carnage and sit down on the roof to wait until it’s all over.
***
The air gets colder as the day wears on and night comes. We huddle together for warmth and there are more than a few grumbles about how if the Zs don’t kill us then exposure sure will. But no one decides being warm is worth opening the doors to the stairs and seeing just how many Zs got inside. The fight has left us and we’re all shell-shocked. I doubt we could kill a rabid squirrel, much less a horde of Zs.
The night is pitch black up here in the mountains. Except for the occasional burst of light from the streets below as the cannies set off their flamethrowers. I’d say it’s a waste of fuel, but what the fuck are we saving fuel for anymore? We’ve made it to Boulder and the Stronghold. Once we get settled in, the only fuel we’ll need is firewood and solar panels.
Not that solar panels are actually fuel. They’re energy. Okay, the sun is the energy and the solar panels help trap that energy and harness it for electricity.
“Jace, quiet,” Stella says. “You’re mumbling.”
“Mumbling words you can understand?” I ask.
The look I get from her tells me no. Fuck. I wonder how long this will go on?
I lean against my wife and close my eyes. Might as well get some sleep if we’re going to be up here for a while.
***
Sleep is hard to come by when you are freezing your dick off. Or tits. It’s just as hard to come by if you are freezing your tits off. I should have said tits to begin with since both men and women have tits. Do men have tits? Or do we just have nipples? I guess we have pecs, but those are the muscles under the tits. If you have tits. I don’t know if I do.
“Shut up,” Stuart growls. “I never thought his talking out loud could get worse, but now that it is all nonsense, it is a hundred times worse.”
“We can go down,” Elsbeth says, standing by the edge of the roof.
Our freezing, stiff group stands up and you can actually hear the frozen joints cracking in everyone’s knees. The sun is starting to crest the horizon and I guess that’s a good thing. We’ve made it to one more sunrise in the zombie apocalypse.
Stella shuffles over to the stairs door, looking more like a Z than a person, and puts her ear to the metal. She instantly regrets it and Charlie has to hurry over and yank on her head to get the skin free.
“Motherfucker,” she snarls as she holds a rag to her bleeding ear.
“You two have matching bleeding ears,” I say. But they have no idea what I’m talking about so I give them a thumb-up.
The thumb-up is not returned.
“Is it clear?” Stuart asks, trying not to smirk as he looks at Stella’s ear.
“Shut the fuck up,” Stella says. “And yes, it sounds like it is clear.”
“We’ll go first and make sure,” Antoinette says. “Elsbeth?”
“Go ahead,” Elsbeth replies. “I’ll bring up the rear with everyone else.”
Antoinette nods then yanks open the door. A single Z comes out. Just one. It lurches for Antoinette and the woman looks at it with pity. She starts to reach for her blade, but stops and just walks slowly backwards until she is right at the edge of the roof. The Z lurches for her again and Antoinette sidesteps then gives it a little push. It goes tumbling off the roof and we all listen for the splat. When it comes, we smile and then make our way downstairs.
There are a few Zs inside the building, but just as Stuart said would happen, it looks like the majority made their way back out to the streets when the canny army rolled by. The sisters quickly kill the few stragglers then do a
sweep of the building to make sure everything is clear.
“Hello?” a voice calls out. “Is anyone out there?”
My eyes narrow. Stella’s eyes narrow. We both follow the voice back to the holding cells.
Kramer.
“Oh, hello, Stanfords,” Dr. Kramer says, his hands pressed up against the bars of his cell. “I had thought you civilized folks had forgotten all about me.”
“I wish,” Stella says.
We look at the floor in front of his cell and see two dead Zs. Kramer follows our gaze.
“Yes, it seems as if some of the undead made it inside last night,” Dr. Kramer says. He holds up a fork and butter knife, both coated with Z blood. “I lured them closer, which wasn’t hard to do, and put them out of their undead misery. I was afraid that more would come and burst into my cell, you just don’t know how strong these bars are since they were built with government money by the lowest bidder.”
We glare at him.
“Hmmm, I am sensing some tension,” he says. “Is there some specific cause?”
“What did you do to my husband?” Stella snaps.
“Why? What is wrong with him?” Dr. Kramer asks, all psychotic innocence and shit. “He looks perfectly healthy. And my, he has a weapon on his stump. How very post-apocalyptic of him.”
“I’ll go get a gun and come back here and put a bullet in your head if you don’t tell us what you did,” Stella says. “I am at the very end of my rope, asshole. You have three seconds to start talking or no amount of begging will save you.”
“I did nothing to Jace,” Dr. Kramer says. “But you must remember that the man had brain surgery and has suffered all kinds of trauma to his head over the years. His reaction to the conditioning can be wildly unpredictable. I explained that before doing what you told me to do.”
“Bullshit,” Stella says.
Kramer leans against the bars and glares at her. “Not bullshit. Not bullshit at all,” he replies. “I have no idea what is wrong with your husband.” He focuses on me. “I have no idea what has happened to you, Jace. If you would care to help me understand by explaining the symptoms then I can begin to diagnose the issue and perhaps we can work together to find a solution.”
