by Chelsea Luna
They ran across Brush Street and in through the fence. Metal barriers and yellow police tape had been set up at the entrance to the actual stadium, but they were knocked down, scattered over the debris and blood covering the cement.
“No,” Lindsay whispered.
Lindsay and Nicky rushed forward, half-climbing over the downed metal barriers. The cheap fences were normally used to keep people off the roads during parades — they shouldn’t have been used to deter flesh-eating zombies.
Adam caught Rachel’s eye as they ran up the ramp that led into the stadium. Her giant blue eyes flickered back and forth, taking in everything around them.
Rachel can’t believe it either.
“No!” Lindsay ran ahead. “No, no, no!”
They raced into the enormous hallway that circled the stadium. The sounds of their footsteps echoed on the cement. Adam sucked in his breath when he saw the empty concession stand. The metallic smell of blood combined with the sweetness of cotton candy made Adam’s stomach lurch. Bits of popcorn were stuck in the congealed blood covering the counter.
So much blood.
Lindsay was leading now. Nicky, with his injured arm, was struggling to keep up with her. She ran down the tunnel to the stadium seats. The field’s bright lights gleamed like someone was putting a flashlight into a hole.
Lindsay fell to her knees. “No, no, no.”
Rachel, Cage and Finn reached Lindsay and Nicky. Cage’s hands went to his head. Rachel’s shoulders slumped. Adam didn’t want to look. He had a pretty clear idea of what he was about to see.
Lindsay was crying.
Adam shielded Morgan from the scene.
Dozens of tents and cots were set up on the football field. Clothing, bags, trash and blood lay scattered across the grass. The bright lights illuminated the debris and belongings slung over the hundreds of blue chairs surrounding the field.
“This was supposed to be the safe zone,” Lindsay cried.
Supposed to be.
But it wasn’t a safe zone. It was a deathtrap. Mingled amid the cots and makeshift tents was a sea of zombies wandering aimlessly over the football field.
Chapter Nineteen
Nicky wanted to punch something. He didn’t care what it was, but he wanted to feel the crush of something under his knuckles. He didn’t — his shoulder was still throbbing — but he wanted to.
Lindsay sobbed in his arms. “What are we going to do?”
Rachel answered before Nicky had the chance. “We have to get out of here.”
“And go where?” Lindsay hiccupped. “This was supposed to be the safe zone. What are we going to do? We can’t stay here. There are too many zombies and those people are outside.”
“We’ll find a car,” Cage said.
Nicky nodded at the football field full of zombies. “This must be the reason for the traffic jam leaving the city.”
“We didn’t know,” Rachel muttered.
“I’m with Cage,” Adam said. “Let’s go.”
“Where are we going to get a car?” Lindsay asked.
“Parking garage,” Nicky said. “There’s a huge one down the street.”
“We don’t have any keys,” Rachel said.
“Then we hotwire one.” Nicky stood. “We have to get the hell out of here.”
“You know how to hotwire a car?” Cage asked. “And you’re just now telling us?”
“No, Quarterback,” Nicky said. “I’ve never hotwired a car, but I’ve seen someone do it a few times.” More than a few. “I think I can do it.”
“What if you can’t?” Lindsay asked.
“Then I guess we’re running on foot unless we find some keys,” Nicky said. “Does anyone else have a better idea?”
Silence.
“That’s what I thought.” Nicky’s head snapped up at the sound of growling. “Watch out!”
Two zombies — one a sprinter — had stumbled into the tunnel. The slow one growled. The fast one hadn’t bothered, opting for action over talk. The sprinter was dressed in army gear. He closed the distance between them within seconds. Rachel turned, but Finn reacted first.
“Finn!” Cage yelled.
The kid raised his lead pipe and swung it with all of his body weight. The end of the metal rod made contact with the guy’s stomach, pushing him backward onto the ground. Finn, almost as agile and efficient as Rachel, didn’t hesitate. As soon as the zombie’s head smashed against the cement, he took the pipe to its forehead.
Cage took out the slower zombie.
“Let’s go!” Adam yelled.
A radio crackled.
“Did you hear that?”
The sound crackled again.
Rachel’s eyes dropped to the dead solider on the ground. “It’s a radio!”
Lindsay crawled on her hands and knees and searched the dead zombie’s pockets. Nicky helped her roll the body over onto its stomach. A black walkie-talkie, clipped to the soldier’s belt, crackled again. Lindsay half cried, half laughed.
Nicky yanked the radio from the soldier’s belt and adjusted the dial. “Hello? Is anyone there?”
The radio immediately crackled in response.
“Change the channel,” Cage said.
Nicky adjusted the dial again. “Hello? Can you hear me? Please. Is anyone out there?”
There was a long pause.
“Hello?” Nicky repeated. “I know you’re there. Please.”
“Private Williams? Is that you? Over.” A clear voice sounded over the radio.
Lindsay clasped her hands together and squealed. “It’s the army! It’s help!”
A zombie groaned from down the hallway. Cage ran down the ramp and disposed of the deadhead with his tire iron before it could turn down the tunnel.
Nicky raised his hand to quiet the others. “I’m sorry, but Private Williams is dead. My name is Nicky Ayers and I’m with a group of seven survivors.” He glanced at the others and then added. “Over.”
“What’s your location? Over.”
“Ford Field, Detroit. Where are you? Can you take us out of the city? Over.”
“Negative. Ford Field was overrun two days ago. The city is down. Please confirm again that your location is Ford Field. Over.”
“Dude, I’m watching hundreds of zombies trampling all over the end zone and no one is carrying a football,” Nicky said. “Trust me, we are here and it took a hell of a lot for us to get here. The stupid radio broadcast told us this was a safe zone, but it’s not looking too safe to me at the moment. Can you rescue us? Over.”
“I repeat, that’s a negative. Orders have been given to evacuate Detroit and head out. Over.”
“Come and evacuate us!” Lindsay cried into the radio. “Please! We need help! We’re here!”
“Over,” Nicky added.
There was a long pause. “I’m sorry, but we can’t. We left Detroit yesterday. We were instructed not to return under any circumstance. Detroit has been labeled hostile territory. Too many infected and hostiles. Our orders were to head to Camp Freedom Two. Over.”
“What in the hell is Camp Freedom Two? Is that the safe zone in Nashville? Over.” Nicky licked his lips. The military left yesterday? They’d just missed them? How could their luck be so bad?
“Negative. We lost the safe zone in Nashville. Camp Freedom Two is currently holding in Las Vegas. Over.”
Nicky closed his eyes. “You lost the safe zone in Nashville? What does that even mean?”
A second voice — this one clearly not as calm as the first — came over the radio and interrupted Nicky. “Look around, man. Do you see Ford Field? Well, that’s a glimpse of what’s happening in Nashville. The call came in yesterday. All able-bodied military units, even those with survivors, are to report to Las Vegas. That’s what we’re doing. If you want to live, you should go there, too.”
Nicky waited for the guy to say “over,” but he didn’t. The voice didn’t sound military. “Able-bodied military? How many people are with you? Over.
”
Another long pause. The first voice returned. “Four people, including two civilians. Over.”
“Four?” Nicky’s stomach flopped. “What happened to the rest of your unit? Where is everyone? Over.”
“I don’t know. You’re the first voice I’ve heard over the walkie-talkie since yesterday. Over.”
How could this be happening? Only four of them had made it out of Detroit? This military group was smaller than their own. He pressed the radio against his forehead and sighed.
It crackled in response. “Mr. Ayers, I suggest you lead your group out of Detroit and into Las Vegas. It’s the only major military safe zone remaining in the country. It’s your only chance at survival. Over.”
“Wait. What’s your name? Over.” Nicky sighed in frustration.
“Sergeant Max Deerhorn, Delta Force, U.S. Army. I’ll see you and your friends in Las Vegas, Mr. Ayers. Good luck to you. Over and out.”
Chapter Twenty
No one said anything.
Cage closed his eyes and slowed his breathing, resisting the urge to bang his head against the stadium’s concrete walls. Las Vegas? How in the world were they supposed to get across America? They couldn’t even get through fifty miles in the State of Michigan. Cage squeezed his eyes tighter, ignoring the headache pounding behind his eyeballs.
He saw a flash of Jorge’s dead body. The bullet wound below his eye. Cage shook his head — there was no time for guilt now. Jorge was a scumbag and Cage killed him in Rachel’s self-defense.
Cage wasn’t sure how they were going to get out of the stadium. The moment they stepped outside, the gang firing from the top of the Fox Theater would gun them down one by one. Not to mention, their presence in the tunnel was drawing attention from the zombies. They’d have to make it to the garage and hope that Nicky could hotwire a car so they could escape this hellhole.
Cage was tired.
A snarl was quickly cut off by the familiar sound of aluminum slicing through the air. Cage opened his eyes, just as the zombie crumpled to the concrete. Rachel tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “Shall we go?”
“How do we know that Las Vegas will be any different than this?” Nicky asked.
“We don’t,” Rachel said.
Another zombie stumbled into the hallway. Adam unleashed his lead pipe.
“It sounds like another stupid plan.” Lindsay smoothed her denim skirt. “We’ve been on a wild goose chase trying to find a safe place to hide for days. Nothing has gone as planned and now we’re supposed to drive God knows how many miles across America to some safe zone — that we don’t even know is actually safe — because some guy on a walkie-talkie said so?”
“He’s in the military,” Finn said quietly.
“So he says.”
Cage pointed to the dead solider. “He’s in the military and it was his buddy that was on the walkie-talkie.”
“So what?” Lindsay shouted. “Do you know how many miles it is from here to Las Vegas?”
“Don’t yell at Cage,” Rachel said.
“Shut up, Rachel!”
“Lindsay, calm down!” Adam yelled.
Cage glanced at Adam.
“Two thousand,” Adam answered Lindsay. “It’s two thousand miles to Las Vegas. I drove across the country a few years ago.”
“Two thousand?” Lindsay threw her hands in the air. “Two thousand? Is anyone else hearing this? This is craziness! Nicky, what do you think?”
“I don’t think we have anywhere else to go.”
“I want to go home,” Lindsay said.
Cage sighed. “There is no more ‘home,’ Lindsay. It’s gone.”
Rachel moved toward Morgan. “Let’s take it one step at a time. We can worry about how many miles we have to go later. First, let’s get a car. We can’t stay in this tunnel. Nicky, are you sure you can hotwire a car?”
Nicky nodded.
“Then let’s move out,” Cage said.
Everyone grabbed their backpacks and moved down the tunnel toward the concourse that circled the stadium. They turned right, away from the blood-soaked concession stand.
“There’s a parking garage next door,” Adam said.
They jogged to the other side of the stadium. Every exit door was barricaded. Apparently, the only way in or out was through the entrance they’d come in, but if they went out that door they’d run right into the gang’s gunfire. Adam gravitated toward Rachel as they ran. Cage shook his head. He’s just upset about Selena, so he’s seeking comfort in Rachel.
Since when was Rachel the comforting type?
“You okay there, dude?” Nicky held his injured shoulder as they jogged.
Cage nodded. “I’m fine.”
They turned down a narrow hallway with an exit sign lit above it. At the end of the corridor, a mound of junk, including a soda machine, covered the double doors.
There was so much crap in front of the door. Cage grabbed a box filled with Detroit Lion towels and pushed it aside. They started pulling junk from the heap until they could reach the soda machine.
“We have company.” Rachel raced in front of the kids and Lindsay.
“Move that pop machine!” Lindsay screamed over her shoulder. “Finn, stay here with me!”
Rachel ran ahead to meet the group of seven zombies that followed them into the hallway. Cage threw an office chair to the side. Nicky moved objects with his good hand, but it wasn’t fast enough. Cage wedged himself in behind the pop machine. A thick metal chain looped around the door handle.
“Crap,” Cage said.
“Let’s deal with this first,” Adam said, eyeing the chain. “Grab that side.”
Rachel’s bat sliced the air behind him. The sound was almost lost in the growling that echoed down the hallway.
Cage gripped the side of the machine and braced his legs. “Ready?”
“Push!” Adam said.
The metal pop machine screeched across the floor. Cage pushed again, losing his grip on the slippery plastic front. Adam grunted as they moved the heavy contraption out of the way.
“Finn! Get back here!” Lindsay screamed.
Rachel swung the bat again. There were more zombies now — enough to fill the hallway. Rachel and Finn retreated a few feet.
“Rachel, how are you doing over there?” Adam yelled over his shoulder.
“You guys need to hurry!”
Nicky kicked the chain looped through the door handles. “Are you kidding me?”
“Use your axe to cut the chain!” Cage ran past Adam and Nicky. He had to help Rachel and Finn.
Rachel was simultaneously swinging and retreating. The flow of zombies had pushed them backward. The growls gave Cage flashbacks of the horde at Peabody Dorm.
“I got it, Finn,” Cage said. “Go protect Morgan and Lindsay, please.” Cage looked down at the boy holding the bloody pipe. His face hardened. He didn’t want to sit on the sidelines during the action.
“You’ll be the only line of defense if the zombies get past us,” Rachel said. “Go, Finn, we need you.”
The clank of Nicky’s axe against the metal chain was barely audible over the growling. A female zombie with short blonde hair dove at Cage. He jumped back and watched as she smashed her head when she fell to the ground.
Rachel swung the bat. “Nicky? How’s that door coming?”
The clank of metal answered. “Still working on it.” Nicky grunted.
Adam swung his pipe at the chain in between Nicky’s axe swings. Nicky’s arm wound was bleeding through the bandage.
“Work faster!” Rachel backed up another few steps. They were ten feet away from Lindsay and the kids. “We’re running out of real estate here.”
The axe clanked again. And then the pipe. Axe. Pipe.
A half-naked male zombie lunged for Rachel. She tried to move out of the way, but Rachel fell to the ground. Movement registered in Cage’s peripheral vision. He did a double take.
Morgan?
Morgan grabbe
d the pipe from Finn’s hand and raced forward. She slung the weapon against the back of the half-naked zombie, knocking it to the ground. Rachel rolled and stabbed with her hunting knife, plunging the blade into the side of its head.
“Good work, Morgan.”
Morgan’s eyes were wide, glued to the zombie. Cage grabbed the girl’s hand, pulling her behind Lindsay.
“Nicky!” Cage yelled.
Clank.
“Hurry!” Lindsay shouted. She snatched Morgan and Finn’s arms and retreated another few steps.
Cage swung the tire iron again, but there wasn’t enough space to move. “Nicky!”
“I can’t concentrate with all of you yelling at me!” Nicky swung his axe against the chain.
“You’re swinging an axe!” Rachel screamed. “You don’t need to concentrate! We’re two feet away from being devoured!”
Nicky swung the axe again and the chain rattled to the floor. “Come on! We’re out of here!” Adam yanked open the doors and sunlight flooded into the hallway.
“There’s no fence!” Nicky yelled. “Come on, let’s go! This way! Get those kids out of here, Lindsay!”
Cage and Rachel climbed over the pile of junk and ran out the door. Lindsay held Finn’s hand, but Finn twisted around.
“We’re okay!” Rachel said. “Go!”
Adam raced to the front of the group with Morgan. He pointed to the parking garage ahead. “There!”
Comerica Baseball Park towered over them. They were out of the direct line of fire coming from Fox Theater, but Cage hoped there weren’t snipers planted in the baseball stadium.
The majority of the zombies fell behind because of their slowness, but a handful of the faster ones kept pace behind Rachel and Cage. The quick zombies ran with their arms extended. One reached for Rachel. The zombie leaned forward, his fingers inches from Rachel’s shoulder.
Cage shoved the end of his tire iron into the zombie’s chest, knocking it off balance.
“Thanks,” Rachel said.
“No problem.”
They reached the four-story parking garage. The parking attendant booth was empty with blood splattered across the window.
“Which one?” Nicky held his injured shoulder as they raced across the first floor.
