Whoever it was, it certainly wasn’t the true master of the dead because most of the zombies were trying to get at them.
The whole circle of undead moved about ten feet closer to the back of the building. “Aaron, hold on,” I said. “I’m going to edge up closer. Let me know if I need to back up fast.” I ducked back down into the cab and gently pressed the gas.
The dump truck was anything but stealthy as it rumbled ahead, but the zombies in the field were so concentrated on the scrum in front of them that they didn’t give us a second glance. I took a quick peek at Thomas and saw that he was rigid in his seat. I felt badly for putting him through this wringer, but we needed to see if we had any of our friends here still alive. I started to comfort Thomas, when Aaron slapped the top the cab and I slammed on the brakes a little too hard. A dull bang of a fist on metal came from above us.
I took the truck out of gear and stuck my head out the window. “Sorry about the panic braking.”
“Yeah, I could have lived without that,” Aaron said, leaning over the roof and looking down at me.
“Why’d you want to stop?”
“I’m not completely sure, but I think that Russell is in the center of that mess. And there’s a chick with him. She has on some sort of vest.”
Bingo. A minion of the Lord of the Dead. But why is Russell with her?
“Anything else?”
“I think it’s just the two of them,” he said, but stared at me intensely. “Do you know something you’re not sharing?”
“Someone was controlling the armored zombies using transmitters. Moving them around like pawns. It was the guy Russell and Paige talked about.”
“Is it him?” Aaron asked with some alarm in his voice.
“Wait, wait. Let me finish. I killed him and took out his transmitters, but he had helpers. I discovered one in the woods and took his control vest. I’m guessing the woman you’re seeing is another one of these helpers.”
“Then why is Russell with her?” he asked.
I didn’t have any answers.
Russell watched as the woman moved her fingers over the buttons on her control console in a frantic and feverish pace. It was as if she were playing some concert on them, and that’s what it really was. It was a concert of control and that’s what was keeping them alive, but it seemed as if the concert only had so much volume and what volume it did have was lessening by the second. Sweat poured off her brow, dripping on to her arms as she worked the controls, cursing intermittently. Her hair was slicked down by all the sweat.
From what he could see, she still had control of a ring of the armored zombies and she was using them to push the encroaching zombies back. But it looked like more and more zombies pressed in at the ring of blockers, giving up very little ground.
Russell wasn’t sure, but he sensed the circle around them was tightening, but he didn’t want to say anything that might distract this woman.
What did he really know about her? Doubt lingered in his head. Would she suddenly take whatever limited control she had and turn the zombies loose on him when they got to the building? He didn’t see this happening because he could shoot her dead at any moment, but still, the concern simmered inside him, and if she were dead, he would quickly follow.
Painstakingly, they had cut the distance down to twenty five feet from the loading dock, but their momentum had slowed dramatically, making only what seemed like inches in the last minute or two. Neither one of them knew how much power was left in the battery in her chest console.
“Don’t fucking crowd me,” the woman screamed at him when he accidentally bumped into her, the press of zombies getting closer by the minute.
“Sorry” he said as he looked around at the faces of the undead, mouths opening and closing expectantly as they moaned and grunted, straining to get by the blockers. “They seem a lot closer.”
“Great observation, Einstein,” she said. “There’s a whole hell of a lot of them coming to this party. You’d better have your gun ready.”
“Is it going to come to that?” he asked as he looked at the rows of zombies in their way and sucked in a sharp breath.
“This battery could fizzle at any second,” she said.
“There’s too many of them in the way. There’s no way I could shoot my way through them. At least, not with this many.”
“Then save a bullet for me just in case,” she said. “Now, shut the hell up and let me concentrate.”
“They’re getting boxed in,” Aaron said leaning down, his face creased with worry. “Should I start shooting?”
“No use doing that, there are way too many for that,” I said. “We’re going to have to draw some of them away.”
“How do we do that?”
“Hold onto something,” I said. “I’m going to try something.” I felt around on the center of the steering column and after about three seconds of searching, my fingers pressed down on a button and a loud horn sounded. I kept it down for a good ten seconds, then let up.
Aaron’s face leaned down into the open window next to my head, “You could have warned me about that. I may never hear out of my left ear again.”
“Sorry,” I said, shrugging. “Get ready for a couple more blasts.”
I pressed the horn three more times for about five seconds a piece. This got the attention of some of the mob around Russell and the woman. A few broke away and came in our direction. The problem was that we had been there long enough that the ones on the south side of the complex were now getting very interested in us. A loud horn blaring was their version of a dinner bell. I watched in my side view mirrors as a sizable contingent of undead started our way. Staying in place any longer wasn’t an option.
I gently gave the gas pedal some pressure and turned out, away from the complex. The truck rumbled along and, every couple seconds, I gave the horn a couple blasts, peeling a few more zombies off the circle around Russell. I was sort of like the Pied Piper of zombies as I drew a parade of them away. I watched in my mirrors as the crowd around Russell and the woman noticeably decreased in size. I only hoped it was enough.
“Shit the bed, the battery’s about to go,” she screamed to Russell. “I can just tell it.”
They had cut the distance to the back of the building down to around fifteen feet, but that still left four to five rows of zombies between them and safety. If Russell had to estimate, he would guess that was around forty zombies. He only had sixteen bullets. He didn’t like the odds, but there was nothing to be done about it.
“They’re thinning out,” Russell said. “Whoever’s out there honking their horn is drawing some of them away.”
“It’s not enough,” she said.
“It’ll have to be,” he said, moving up closer to her. “If the battery goes, then I’ll shoot us a path through them. Just stay close to me.”
“It’s not if, it’s when,” she said. “I can tell I’m having less effect over less of them.” Earlier, she had been able to control nearly twenty of the zombies, she now only held sway over ten. Maybe less.
“Then be ready,” Russell said.
“Like I have any other fucking choice.”
I was about to the woods when I pulled a wide U-turn and started heading back toward the mass of zombies, trying to skirt around the ones I had pulled away. A few didn’t take the hint that I didn’t want anything to do with them and drifted in front of the truck. They became more road meat as the truck either battered them away or rolled over them. I had become completely hardened to the idea that they had once been living and breathing people. They were now just more monsters that wanted me dead.
Aaron shouted in the window, “I think they’re losing whatever control they had. The zombies are closing in on them.”
“You want to come down into the cab?” I asked.
“Why? What are you thinking?”
“I have no idea what to do, but you’re a lot safer in here than out there.”
“Okay,” he said and dropped dow
n to the running board on the passenger side of the truck and opened the door while I was still moving. For a big and wounded man, he made it look easy.
“I’ll abbreviate the introductions,” I said, “Thomas, this is my friend, Aaron. Aaron this is Thomas. Thomas is one brave dude.”
“Nice to meet you, Thomas,” Aaron said. “Any friend of Joel’s is a friend of mine.” He paused for a moment and slammed the door shut. “What’s the plan, Joel?”
“I’m working on it,” I said, not entirely sure of what I was going to do next.
I could see that there were way too many zombies still in their way. They’d need a bazooka to blast their way through the remaining zombies and I was pretty sure they didn’t have one. Unless I did something, and did it fast, they were going to get taken down.
Out of any real creative ideas, I went back to my tried and true methods of brute force and slammed the gas pedal to the floor. I steered the truck ahead, making a wide arc around the mob and then aimed for the section of zombies between Russell and the loading dock.
The zombies were coming up quickly. I laid on the horn and gave it a long blast, hoping Russell and his new friend would take it as a sign to keep out of my way, but I knew they had their own troubles.
“Hold on, Thomas,” I said. His eyes were wide with panic, but, to his credit, he didn’t say anything.
Aaron put a protective arm in front of Thomas and said, “I’ve got you, dude.”
I did my best to aim for the section of zombies that were blocking Russell’s progress, but there was nothing precise about my maneuvers. This truck was old, mammoth, and was by no means a surgical instrument, but more like using a ten pound sledgehammer to put a thumbtack on a bulletin board. It wasn’t going to be pretty. I only hoped and prayed I didn’t kill Russell or the woman in my effort to peel away the undead surrounding them.
I pressed down the gas pedal and said, “Damn the torpedoes.” The truck smashed into the crowd doing about twenty. The effect was devastating on the zombies and finally made a dent in the truck. After crashing through the first five or six and battering them out of the way, the remaining ones in our path started going down and under the truck. Because of their numbers, I actually felt the wheels on the left side of the truck rise off the ground as it started to climb over the pile of undead under them. I would imagine that if this had been a Monster Truck Rally, the spectators would have been on their feet about then, but I had to settle on Thomas, who was stoic, and Aaron, who looked beat to hell. Needless to say, neither of them clapped.
The truck climbed its newly created mound of the undead, slowing substantially. I peered at my window into the mob and saw only a single line of zombies blocking the escape path. I’m sure Jeff Gordon would have gotten that last row, but it was my best effort. The wheels on the left side of the truck came back to level as the back tires rolled over the already crushed zombies. The truck slid away from the mob.
I had done what I could, the rest was up to Russell.
Chapter 38
Zombies: The Gift that Keeps on Giving
“Who the hell was that?” the woman asked, her voice full of wonderment and awe.
“Those are my friends,” Russell said as he moved in next to her and bringing his rifle up. “The ones you were trying to kill.” He aimed at the first armored zombie in their path. “Get ready to make a run for it.” He pulled the trigger, putting a bullet in its eye and taking it down. The next one took three shots before the final bullet found a soft spot. They got a bit of luck as this zombie fell in such a way as to take two other zombies down into a pile of reaching arms.
“There’s our hole,” Russell shouted as he saw daylight between them and the loading dock.
She didn’t wait and vaulted over the fallen zombies. He followed, but one of the downed zombies shot out an arm, glancing his ankle and knocking him off balance. He hit the ground hard, knocking the air from his lungs, and rolled twice until he ended up in a motionless heap.
Two unfettered zombies started towards him, ready to chow down. The woman, running as fast as she could, somehow sensed he wasn’t following, stopped in her tracks, turned and looked back to him and then at the safety of the dock.
Caught in indecision, she waffled back and forth until she screamed, “Fuck-a-doodle do,” at the top of her lungs. She cursed again, lost in a battle of wills. This lasted about four seconds before she started towards Russell, wondering if she hadn’t finally lost her grip on sanity. She knew she didn’t have much of a chance of getting to him in time, but she also knew she had to try.
The two zombies were just about on Russell when a shot rang out and the leading zombie staggered as bullets peppered its back. The bullets didn’t pierce the armor, but did knock the undead thing off balance, causing it to drift off course and into the path of the trailing zombies. They stumbled along for a few feet like drunk dancers, their legs eventually becoming tangled, and they went down in a clattering of metal and grunts.
The woman peeked up and saw a big man with a big rifle sticking out the side of the truck that had just smashed away a whole line of zombies. She didn’t have time to do anything else, but to get to Russell, so she focused on the task at hand.
She got to him wondering if he had been shot or if the fall had killed him or not, but she saw that he was starting to stir. “Get the hell up, asshole,” she said as she grabbed the back of the shirt and pulled him to his feet. “You only get one good deed a day from me. Now, let’s go.”
He grunted something, but seemed dazed. She tugged at his arm and pulled him along. More shots sounded and she saw truck on the move with the big man hanging out of the window, firing at the zombies hot on their trail. There were at least ten zombies shambling after them. She knew if she broke and ran on he own, she’d make it, but something inside her made her stay with Russell and shepherd him along, staying just ahead of the pursuit.
“My bullets aren’t cutting it,” Aaron said, pulling his impressive bulk back inside the cab.
“They’re not going to make it,” I said under my breath. I slammed the transmission into reverse and started back toward the on-coming zombies. They were so transfixed on Russell and the woman that they didn’t even notice a massive dump truck backing their way. The back of the truck hit them like the Great Wall of China on wheels, sending them sprawling across the field, rolling into, and knocking down a set of other zombies intent on getting in on the human eating action. They all went down in a tangle of undead arms and legs.
The truck acted like a barrier for the rest of the pursuing zombies as they trudged toward the action.
“How are they doing?” I asked Aaron.
“The woman’s got Russell up and they’re headed for the dock,” he replied. “Shouldn’t we be moving there, too?”
“Sounds like a prudent course of action,” I said as I shifted from reverse to drive. The truck moved forward about five feet and then began to shudder and buck in protest. The engine sputtered and choked, then died.
“What’s up?” Aaron said.
I grabbed the key and cranked the ignition and all the electrical systems came on, but the engine didn’t respond. My eyes searched the dashboard for any clue and after a few seconds, fell on the culprit. The needle on the gas gauge sat on E. We were out of gas.
“We need to get out on your side and make a run for it,” I said as I unbuckled Thomas.
“What’s wrong?” Aaron said.
“We’re out of gas.”
“What the hell?” Aaron cried out.
“We got it almost empty and, if you hadn’t noticed, there aren’t any gas stations out here.”
Something thudded against my door and a metal encased hand slapped against the open window. It made a second slap and the window shattered, sending glass tinkling into the cab. I ducked back and knocked Thomas into Aaron. Both of them cried out. “Let’s go, folks,” I said already pushing Thomas across the seat. Aaron took the cue, opened his door and jumped out. When he h
it the ground, he shouldered his rifle and turned to helped Thomas down. I followed close behind.
They didn’t need any coaxing and headed for the loading dock at a sprint. I jumped out just in time to see zombies streaming around the front and the back of the truck. What we were going to do once we got back to the building was a mystery to me. We’d be trapped in a building surrounded by zombies, while most of our pals were safe miles away, headed for a new home. While that made me feel good, in a way, it wasn’t entirely comforting.
We made it to the concrete driveway that led to the dock when the large metal accordion-style door flew up, revealing Brother Ed and Jo, standing there as if they had been waiting for us all along. Both of them had their rifles aimed over our heads and started firing at something behind us. I didn’t need to look back to know who or what it was.
Russell and the woman didn’t waste any time and rushed inside.
We hustled up the stairs and onto the dock, with me ushering Thomas along. Jo and Brother Ed took time from shooting to allow us to pass. When I turned around, I saw Brother Ed move to beside the door, grab a chain dangling beside it, and yank hard. The door came down quickly, slamming down against the concrete, sounding like a giant discordant cymbal, shutting off our pursuers. The zombies hit the door a few seconds later, clanging and clattering against it, causing it to ripple up and down like waves.
“Will it hold?” Aaron asked.
“It will,” Brother Ed said.
We were in a back storage area intended for the in-take and disbursement of supplies for The Manor. The loading doors were at my back with doors leading off the other side of the room into corridors for different hallways for the back buildings of the complex. It had all the cheer of an internment camp, but, at least, there were no zombies there.
Books of the Dead (Book 3): Dead Man's Land Page 27
