Rise of the Undead (Book 6): Apocalypse Z

by Higgins, Baileigh

  And still, they kept coming.

  The soldiers put up a valiant effort, their ranks bolstered by the brave civilians who’d volunteered to fight. They kept up a wall of fire that prevented the undead from running right over the fences.

  Dylan craned her neck to find Nick, but he was nowhere to be seen. Her hands itched to hold a gun, and she longed to throw herself headlong into the fray. Anything would be better than bearing witness to the carnage.

  Even as she watched, a section of the fence gave away. Screams arose as the infected descended upon the brave souls that fought to keep them at bay. Her heart hammered in her chest, wondering if the zombies would break through. If they did, they’d wash across the base in a sea of corpses.

  She needn’t have worried. Within seconds, reinforcements arrived, and the undead were pushed back behind the line. An excavator rumbled forward and dumped loads of rubble within the breach, sealing it shut.

  Dylan slumped onto the nearest step as a wave of dizziness washed over her. Immediately, Amanda was there. “Come with me, please. You are not alright.”

  “I can’t. What if Nick needs me?” Dylan said.

  “Nick can look after himself. As you can see, he’s got it all under control,” Amanda said.

  Finally, Dylan relented. “Fine, you win.”

  Leaning on Amanda for support, she hobbled back inside on her injured ankle. They made their way to a nearby ward filled with wounded people like herself, and she found an empty bed in the corner.

  Amanda disappeared for a short while before returning with Ethan in tow. He shot Dylan a disapproving frown, and asked, “What did you do to yourself this time?”

  Dylan threw him a nasty glare, her patience at an end. “Listen here, you self-righteous asshole. I went out at the break of dawn this morning to blow up a bridge. The same bridge that now lies in ruins. Because of my efforts, a vast horde of zombies numbering in the thousands are looking elsewhere for their next meal. Unfortunately for me, I got blown up and bitten in the process. So, spare me the disdain or crawl back up your ass where you belong.”

  For a long moment, Ethan stared at her with a blank expression. At last, he said, “Forgive me. That was uncalled for.”

  Dylan grunted her assent and sat in stoic silence as he disinfected and bandaged the bite wound on her ankle. Next, he shot her up with a cocktail of antibiotics and painkillers. After treating a couple of burns, cuts, and contusions, he turned to Amanda. “I suspect she has a mild concussion as well. Keep her calm and awake, and call me if anything changes.”

  “Yes, Doctor Hayes,” Amanda said.

  Ethan left, and Dylan frowned at Amanda. “Your boss is an asshole.”

  “Don’t look at me. He’s your ex.”

  Dylan snorted. “We never dated.”

  “Try to tell him that,” the girl on the bed next to them said before giggling. “That was the most fun I’ve had all day.”

  “And you are?” Dylan asked.

  “The name’s Tamara.”

  “What happened to you?” Dylan asked, noting the fine line of black stitches on the girl’s forehead.

  “Well, I crashed my bike, and as I lay there dying, some asshole mugged me,” Tamara said with a lop-sided grin. “Luckily, these fine folks found me and brought me in.”

  She pointed to a trio of orphans on the bed next to her. “The oldest is Rikke. She cut her foot open, the klutz. And that’s Arely and Eli.”

  “Nice to meet you,” Dylan said with a wide smile.

  Eli made a couple of hand gestures, and Rikke said, “He wants to know how you got blown up, and how come you’re not a zombie after getting bitten.”

  “Uh, it’s a long story,” Dylan hedged.

  “And we’ve got nothing but time,” Tamara replied.

  “Alright, fine. Here goes,” Dylan said.

  She told them about Tara and the cure before moving on to the bridge adventure. Time ticked by as she related the tale, and she found she quite enjoyed having a captive audience. Eli’s reactions were especially gratifying, and she ended up telling them almost her entire life story. “So you see. This isn’t the first time a zombie has bitten me.”

  “Wow, that’s quite something,” Tamara said. “It makes spending three days hiding in a dumpster and wallowing in your own filth seem like nothing.”

  “I wouldn’t say that,” Dylan said with a shudder. “It sounds like a nightmare.”

  “Anyway, I’d like to know more about—”

  Suddenly, the rattle of automatic gunfire echoed throughout the ward, and Dylan jumped up. “What’s going on?”

  “Wait here. I’ll find out,” Amanda cried. She ran out only to return seconds later with a pale face. “It’s the infected. A bunch of them broke through the defenses, and they’re trying to get in.”

  “The guards?” Dylan asked.

  “They’re losing.”

  “Then we must help them,” Dylan cried, hobbling toward the entrance. “Stay here, kids, and shut the doors until we get back.”

  As she ran, Dylan patted her hips. She had only one gun, fully loaded, and her knife. She pulled out the Glock 17. “Are you armed, Amanda?”

  Amanda nodded, scooping up a decorative vase from a side table. “I am now.”

  They were joined by Ethan, Brenda, Rita, and a couple of others, all armed in varying degrees.

  “What’s going on?” Ethan asked.

  “Zombies,” she replied.

  They reached the entrance at the same time the infected smashed through the barrier. Glass showered onto the floor, and a guard screamed as a trio of zombies dragged him to the ground.

  Dylan aimed for the man’s attackers, shooting them at close range. Like bloated ticks, they fell away, but it was too late to save him. Blood fountained from the hole in his throat, and she delivered a quick mercy shot.

  Amanda smashed in a zombie’s head with the vase but screamed when another latched onto her forearm. With a wild yell, Dylan threw herself at the monster. She punched it in the face until blood and teeth sprayed through the air. The thing collapsed only to be replaced by another, and another. Two nurses went down under the onslaught, and the floor grew slippery with blood.

  “Fall back to the ward,” Dylan screamed, scooping up the fallen guard’s rifle. “Fall back!”

  Amanda likewise armed herself, and they retreated with Ethan and the rest in tow. With the automatic weapon, Dylan was able to keep the infected at bay until they reached the room. There, she stopped inside the entrance. “Don’t let them all through at once. Funnel them a few at a time.”

  A couple of the patients, including Rikke and Tamara, joined them. Together, they fought to keep the infected away from the kids inside the ward. For a while, they succeeded but began to lose ground as their ammo ran out.

  Dylan was down to her last few rounds when an infected grabbed Arely. Before she could react, Brenda launched herself at the zombie, bashing it in the face with her fists. “Let go of her, you monster.”

  “No, Brenda,” Dylan cried, too scared to take a shot for fear of hitting her friend.

  The infected snarled and sank its teeth into Brenda’s jugular. She uttered a gurgling scream and collapsed to the ground with the zombie on top of her. Moments later, Ethan was there, grappling with the infected as he tried to help Brenda.

  “Brenda,” he roared.

  One futile hand reached for her before half his face was torn away. Bile rushed up Dylan’s throat, and she cried with horror, “Ethan!”

  One eye fixed on her face, and he said. “Do it.”

  With a sob, she pulled the trigger. His head blew back, and he fell next to Brenda. Gone forever.

  Rage filled Dylan’s mind. She longed to lose control. To let the virus take over until her vision washed crimson. She growled with frustration when her rifle clicked on empty, and she almost tossed it aside. Grabbing the gun by the barrel, she swung it like a bat, caving in skulls and faces. Blood and brains misted her skin and soaked int
o her clothes.

  Still, the infected came.

  They clamored for the sweet flesh of young children and pushed the defenders back until they hit the wall.

  Fury filled Dylan, and she let go of the last of her humanity. With a primal scream, she jumped on top of the nearest infected and tore at its face and throat.

  Hands dragged her back, and Amanda shoved a knife into her hands. “Use this. You’re not one of them. You’re one of us.”

  Dylan blinked as a semblance of control, returned. Amanda was right. She was human. Not zombie. Ethan wouldn’t have wanted me to act like one of them. Not even for him.

  “This is for Brenda.” With a bloody grin, she thrust her knife into a zombie’s eyeball, piercing the brain.

  “And this is for Ethan.” Stepping sideways, she stuck the blade through another’s temple before impaling a third through the soft tissue of the chin.

  But even with the destruction she rained down on the hapless zombies, there were too many. She was fighting a losing battle until…

  Suddenly, a group of strangers stormed into the room, picking off the infected one by one. A familiar figure blasted two with a shotgun before letting loose with a knife, hacking, and stabbing like a madwoman.

  “Tara!” Dylan said, recognizing her savior. “You came.”

  Tara didn’t hear her, continuing to cut at a long-dead zombie until Dylan grabbed her. “Tara, stop! It’s over.”

  “Dylan?”

  And finally, it was over.

  Despite all the odds, they’d won.

  Chapter 23 - Tara

  Tara paced up and down the length of her office, her heart pounding in her ears. It was impossible to focus on work, to focus on anything but the sounds of battle. It began early that morning, around the time Saul and Jackson’s teams were supposed to blow the bridges. Unable to sit still, she’d gone in search of Nick.

  “Nick, please tell me. Is Saul still alive?” she’d asked when she found him overseeing the deployment of troops around the inner fence line.

  “Tara, you’re not supposed to be here,” he scolded.

  “I know, but where is Saul?” she insisted.

  “He’s fine,” Nick replied. “His team radioed through a few minutes ago.”

  “Oh, thank goodness,” Tara gasped.

  “They were unable to blow the bridge, but Jackson’s team succeeded,” Nick added.

  “What does that mean?” Tara asked.

  “It means the fight is on, and you’d better get back to the lab. It’s as safe as anywhere right now,” Nick said.

  “What about Saul?” Tara said. “I can’t leave him out there. I have to go to him.”

  “No, Tara. Listen to me,” Nick said, gripping her elbow. “Saul is a fighter. Let him do what he does best.”

  “But—”

  “He can’t do that while he’s worried about you. Right now, he thinks you’re safe. He thinks he’s fighting for you, and that gives him strength. Don’t take that away from him,” Nick said.

  Tara had listened. She returned to the lab and her endless pacing. It was hell. Pure, undiluted hell.

  The sounds from the city, at first faint and distant, soon escalated. It became louder and louder until it felt like a war took place on her doorstep. And it was. It was right outside, and she was powerless to stop it.

  Finally, she curled up on the couch with her hands pressed to her ears. The sound of gunfire, screams, and explosions took her mind back to the past. To the time she and Saul boarded a plane in the Agostinho-Neto International Airport in Pointe-Noire.

  While they waited for the plane to take off, the sounds of battle grew closer and closer. Soon, the dead overran the airport. As they taxied down the runway, Tara stared out the window.

  People were running, pleading, throwing themselves in front of the aircraft while infected chased them down. Many had children with them or carried babies in their arms. A high-pitched whine sounded before another plane crashed to the ground, not far from them. The 747 went up in a ball of fire, and their plane wobbled from the blast of super-heated air that expanded outward with a boom.

  At last, they lifted into the air and left the continent of Africa far behind. A diverse and beautiful place left to the mercy of the undead.

  She’d hated the sensation of powerlessness then. The knowledge that she could do nothing but wait and wait. That same feeling had hold of her now, sapping her strength of will until she wanted to sob like a baby.

  Her friends and loved ones were out there, fighting for her. Saul, Nick, Dylan, and Alex. They were all risking their lives for her. No more.

  Tara straightened up as fresh resolve stiffened her spine. “I’m not doing nothing again. Not this time.”

  She brushed away the tears that shimmered on her cheeks and stood up. From a built-in cupboard, she removed a belt and wrapped it around her waist. It carried a sheathed knife and a fully-loaded Beretta in a holster. The sawn-off double-barreled shotgun Saul had made for her months before followed, and she filled her pockets with extra shells.

  With determined strides, she exited her office and made her way through the lab to the ground floor. Along the way, she encountered several colleagues, among them Selene. They were just as frightened and uneasy as she’d been, and she took a moment to reassure them.

  “Selene, I’m leaving you in charge of the lab. Please, keep everyone calm and secure until this is all over,” Tara said.

  “Where are you going?” Selene asked with wide eyes.

  “I’m going to help.”

  “But you can’t. It’s too dangerous,” Selene protested.

  “I can, and I will,” Tara replied. As she was about to leave, a thought occurred to her. “One thing. I injected the rats in my lab with the vaccine I made and infected them with the Vita virus. You can check on them while I’m gone.”

  “Alright,” Selene said. “I’ll do that for you.”

  “Thanks,” Tara said, marching away. She didn’t have any faith in the vaccine. Not yet. But it would keep Selene occupied.

  Inside the lobby, she encountered several guards, their numbers swollen by the extra soldiers Nick had assigned to the lab. They were watching the fighting outside with barely concealed impatience.

  Greta spotted Tara and rushed over. “What are you doing here?”

  “I’m going out,” Tara said.

  “You can’t do that,” Greta protested.

  “Yes, I can, and any of you who want to join me are welcome,” Tara said loudly, addressing the room.

  “I’m sorry, Ma’am, but orders are orders,” one soldier said. “We’re here to ensure your safety. We cannot leave, and neither can you.”

  “The lab will be safe whether we stay here or not,” Tara countered. “This place is built like a fort. Nothing is getting in or out without a key card and password.”

  “That doesn’t change our orders, Ma’am,” the soldier replied, his expression obstinate.

  “Listen here, err…what’s your name?”

  “Daniel,” he said.

  “Listen, Daniel. People are dying out there. My friends and your friends are falling while we sit here doing nothing. Now, I am going out there even if I have to shoot you. You can join me or not, your choice, but I’m leaving,” Tara said, raising her chin.

  Daniel regarded her for a couple of seconds before he grinned. “I’ll take it, Ma’am. Let’s go kick some zombie ass!”

  The rest of the soldiers and guards howled in assent, and together they approached the exit. Tara peered through the clear glass, not sure what her next move should be. She was certain an opportunity would present itself, however, so she opened the door. They exited the building and crowded in front of it while Tara secured the door.

  The breaking of glass and shrill screams drew her attention to the infirmary where a crowd of the undead mobbed the entrance. Somehow, they’d gotten past Nick’s defenses and stormed the hospital.

  “Over there,” she cried, pointing at
the zombies that thronged the building.

  Daniel took the lead, directing his team to open fire. A barrage of bullets cut through the infected’s ranks. Two more volleys thinned their numbers considerably, but more were already inside.

  “Follow me,” Daniel cried, and they stormed the infirmary en-masse. Tara lagged, not wanting to get in the soldiers’ way. She paused twice to shoot at infected that rushed her way.

  Boom, boom.

  After reloading, she sprinted up the steps and entered the hospital. It was chaos. Blood spattered the walls, and she slipped in a puddle of gory entrails. Bodies littered the floor. Many of them wore white overcoats, and she wondered if they were too late. “Please, no. Dylan, Amanda!”

  Shrill screams emitted from a nearby ward, and she rushed headlong into the fray. Several people stood at the far end, their backs to the wall. They were surrounded by a group of the undead, harassed from every side.

  She blasted the nearest zombie’s skull to smithereens and tore a hole in another’s torso. When her gun clicked on empty, she dropped it and drew her pistol. A battle cry tore from her lips as she charged into the fight.

  Seconds stretched into eternity while she fought. First with her gun, and finally, with her knife. Slash, hack, cut, and stab. On and on until a familiar face shouted at her. “Tara, stop! It’s over.”

  “Dylan?” Tara asked, finding it hard to recognize her friend through the blood that covered her face.

  “It’s me,” Dylan said, her body sagging against the wall.

  “Are you okay?”

  “I’m fine, but…”

  “What’s wrong? Amanda? Rita?” Tara asked.

  “I’m here,” Amanda said, stepping forward. Behind her huddled a group of children, crying softly.

  “Me too,” a one-armed Rita said, her other hand wielding a machete.

  Dylan pointed at the figure of a woman splayed on the ground. Her eyes were sightless, and a gaping hole in her throat leaked blood in a steady stream.

  Tara gasped. “Brenda.” Not far from Brenda lay another familiar figure, and Tara shook her head as numbness set in. “Ethan.”

  So much loss.