Run: A Post Apocalyptic Thriller

by Rich Restucci

  “Thought there were only four floors?”

  Rick looked at Dallas with eyebrows raised. Dallas shook his head and motioned with his chin toward the door to the stairs. Rick nodded and they cautiously moved back to the stairway. They crept slowly up the stairs, senses wary. The stairs ended in a heavy door, not like any of the others in the upper floors of the theater. Rick knocked on the door, but heard nothing. Rick put his hand on the door handle, and looked at Dallas. Dallas gave a curt nod, and Rick threw the door open. Another short corridor with a door on either side. There was a brass 1 on the door on the left, and a 2 on the door on the right. There was movement behind the door on the left. Rick called out, “Hello?” and instantly he could hear the tell-tale moans of the infected. There sounded like a lot of them. Seconds later, pounding started on the flimsy door, and dust fell from the ceiling.

  The two men beat a hasty retreat back to the door at the end of the corridor, but not before the door with the 1 on it crashed open, spilling four undead into the corridor. There were more behind them in the room. A very dead Asian man with a katana sticking out of his chest stepped over his comrades, trying to get to a savory hot meal. The creature stepped on the hand of one of the fallen, splintering the bones with an audible crack. Infected seemed to pour out of the room, all intent on the feast twenty feet away. Rick pulled the door closed, and both men hurried down the steps. Three seconds later, pounding started on the heavy door.

  “At least the damned door opens in!” Dallas declared as they took the stairs two at a time.

  “Did you see that guy with the sword?” Rick asked. “Must be tough to turn corners, huh?”

  Dallas and Rick burst into the lobby, Dallas yelling for everyone.

  Rick turned and locked the stairway door, and the lobby filled with the little band of survivors.

  “We’re leaving!” shouted Rick. “Pack up, we have one minute!”

  “What’s going on,” demanded Chris, “are they in?”

  “The whole goddamn upstairs is full of ‘em!” Dallas told him, and immediately looked at Sam. “Sorry honey, I’m scared is all, I usually don’t swear too much.”

  Billy looked annoyed, “We gotta move again? I just started settling in!”

  “Move it!” Rick said. Billy harrumphed and stood up, still shirtless.

  “Dallas cover the stairs, I’m gonna go up to the projection booth and look out the window to make sure we’re clear, everybody else be ready to leave!” Rick ran up the spiral stairs. He was up there maybe thirty seconds before he hurried back down.

  “How are we doing?” asked Paul.

  “There’s dozens,” answered Rick, ashen faced, “but that doesn’t change the fact that we need to leave, now!”

  “They musta got through, Hoss, I can hear ‘em on the stairs!”

  Everyone but Dallas gathered near the door, weapons ready. Sam looked scared, Billy bored. “We need to do this quick!” Rick started. “Dallas, you take Billy and Earl, I’ll drive with the people that came with me. Everybody sit where you were sitting before if you can. Chris, you and I will lead. Dad, you and Anna cover Sam, get her in the Hummer fast. Dallas, you block with the truck, head toward the bay!”

  “Wait!” Earl said quickly. He ran behind the counter and opened a tall white cabinet. He pulled out two baseball bats, one aluminum, and one wood. He tossed the wooden one to Billy, who promptly used it to smash the glass on an oblong box attached to the wall next to him. He reached in and withdrew a red fire axe.

  He smiled a wicked half smile, “Only you can prevent forest fires…”

  He one-hand tossed the wooden bat to Chris, who caught it effortlessly, gripped it in the middle and strode to the front door. He looked damn tough for a skinny nerd, with the Louisville Slugger in one hand and the Taurus in the other.

  Dallas turned to look through the skinny glass window of the door leading upstairs. He looked into the dead Asian eyes of the man he had seen upstairs. The dead man smacked his open palm on the window with a wet splat. Black and red fluids smeared the window, and Dallas jumped back with a “Jesus!”

  “They’re here!” he yelped, as thumps were heard on the other side of the entrance.

  “Dallas, let’s go!” Rick shouted, “One, two, THREE!” He counted and pushed the front door to the theater open. The door thudded against something and bounced back. He shoved again and it opened wide. An infected teenager in a black AC/DC tee shirt and jeans was on his back near the door, but already starting to rise. Rick plugged him with the AR15, and every infected in the street outside of the theater turned his way. The group ran to their respective vehicles, except Billy, who looked undecided when between the two. The dead started to close.

  “What the hell is he doing?” Earl demanded of Dallas.

  “All his dogs aint barkin’!” Dallas shouted back as he helped Earl up the side of the garbage truck. He ran around the front of the truck to the other side, colliding midway with a former soldier in digital fatigues. The dead soldier grabbed the shotgun, and wouldn’t let go. Dallas released his grip, pushed the thing back, and brought up his rebar in one quick movement. He smashed the creature in the temple and it went down. He picked up the shotgun, and the soldier grabbed his pant leg as he tried to move away. Dallas fired point blank, turning the soldier’s head into a fine pink mist. Others were coming.

  Rick went to one knee and winced in pain. He started picking the closest targets, covering his group as they got to the Hummer. He dispatched a 6-year-old girl with pigtails and hideous bite wounds on her neck. He fired on a postal worker and hit her in the shoulder, the second shot entering just below her nose and putting her down for good. Rick could hear other weapons firing as well. He shot a business man complete with briefcase, and a doctor with a surgical mask. The street was filling quickly, for every one destroyed, three took its place. The horn on the Hummer sounded and Rick bolted for the door. He fired one more shot at a burned guy with a motorcycle helmet on, twice killing him. Shards of high impact plastic erupted from the back of the creature’s helmet. Rick got in the driver’s seat of the Hummer and started the engine. He looked left and saw Billy waving to Sam from the street.

  Chris hit the window button and the window went down. “Billy! Get in the garbage truck,” he yelled. “They’re coming!” Billy looked at the oncoming tide of dead.

  “But I want to go with Sam,” he whined.

  “There’s no room, you gotta go in the tru-- BEHIND YOU!” Chris screamed.

  An undead so badly burned it was impossible to tell if it had been male or female put its hand on Billy’s shoulder. Billy shoved its hand off of him with a look of irritation. He spun and looked the creature in the face. The thing walked past him heading for the Hummer, crackling as it moved.

  “Fine!” Billy yelled, actually stomping his foot, “But this isn’t fair, I wanted to go with Sam!” He stormed to the garbage truck and climbed aboard. The truck lurched into gear and headed east. Rick followed closely behind, a bewildered look on his face.

  “What in Holy Blue Frigging Hell was that? Chris asked.

  “I… I got nothing…” Rick said.

  10

  “You saw that, right?” Earl asked Dallas.

  “Yeah, twice now. It was hard to miss, and even harder to figure.”

  “Billy, why didn’t that thing attack you?” Earl asked.

  “Dunno,” Billy answered, brows knitted in contemplation. “You think it might be because I’m unsavory?” he asked with a hint of sadness.

  “Huh?” Earl asked.

  “Unsavory,” Billy replied, “means I don’t taste good, I think. I had this nurse in the hospital last year, and she said I was an unsavory character, could that be it?”

  “Maybe,” Earl said, smiling. “I think it means she didn’t like your type or something though.”

  “So I might taste good then?” Billy asked brightening.

  “Uhh… I don’t really know,” Earl replied.

  “Me neither
,” Billy finished with a sigh.

  “Billy, if we can figure out why they don’t attack you, we might be able to stop them from attackin’ all of us!” Dallas said. “Maybe even everyone everywhere!”

  “How?” Billy asked innocently.

  “I don’t know, kid, I ain’t a scientist.”

  Dallas drove over three infected in the middle of the street, their bodies crunching under the wheels. The radio in the truck blared to life. “Dallas ! You gotta tell me if you’re going to be throwing bodies out from under your truck! We’re not as big as you, and there’s goo all over our windshield now!”

  “Well shit,” Dallas intoned, “didn’t think of that.”

  The road ahead was blocked by two military Humvees, parked nose to nose, so Dallas took a right and then a quick left. Another abandoned road block was ahead, and Dallas slowed down. This roadblock was comprised of civilian vehicles. The Hummer with his new friends started beeping furiously, and Dallas stomped on the accelerator. “Hold on!” he yelled. Earl looked scared shitless, fumbling for his seat belt, and Billy started whooping with joy. The garbage truck hit the roadblock at about 45 mph. Screeching metal and smashing glass could be heard as the truck plowed through the smaller vehicles. The cars at the roadblock spun away, one smashing into a storefront window, the other flattening two lurking infected. The heavy vehicle lumbered on.

  “What the hell was that?” Chris demanded in a panicked voice when the truck in front of them shuddered from the impact of the collision. Pieces of the vehicles Dallas had just smashed through came spinning back toward the Hummer, and there was a big thud under the rear end as they went over something big There was a long wail from the truck’s horn, and suddenly bits of bone and bloody pulp shot out from under Dallas’s rig. Rick was able to swerve to the left, but he still needed to use the wipers to get rid of the chunky, crimson droplets on the windshield. Rick needed the washer fluid to clean the mess off, and even then, a hunk of dark-haired scalp caught on the passenger side wiper. It looked like a big spider hanging on for dear life.

  “Ok, ok, horn equals goo! Let’s get a little distance between us and them, but not too much,” Paul said from the back seat.

  The horn blared in front of them again, and again a former human shot out from underneath the back of the garbage truck, tumbling in rag doll fashion. Rick could do nothing but run it over, hearing thudding and crunching noises as he did so. With less than a mile to the waterfront, the dead were getting thick. They stumbled out from behind parked or abandoned cars, alleys, and doorways. Now and then small groups of them could be seen kneeling or on all fours surrounding a grisly target. They were stuffing pieces of dripping gore into their greedy maws. Others were pounding or slapping open, bloody palms on heavy doors or hastily-boarded windows. The group knew what that meant, but at the same time they knew they could not stop to help without being overwhelmed. Some fortifications hadn’t held, and the broken doors and windows revealed gruesome occupants.

  “There it is!” Chris blurted excitedly when he could see San Francisco bay from atop the hill they had just crested.

  The big garbage truck hurtled down the hill, the Hummer in its wake. Dallas looked ahead with a smile as he saw an open chain link gate with the words Bayside Marine in orange letters on a white sign. He checked the rear view mirror and his smile vanished. The Hummer was a hundred yards behind him and slowing. His radio blared to life yet again.

  “Dallas!” Chris’s voice. “Something’s wrong with the Hummer, it’s dying fast!” Dallas started a three point turn to go assist.

  The Hummer ground to a halt. The big yellow vehicle didn’t go unnoticed by the hungry dead in this area of the city. Dozens of infected were coming from all directions. Across the street, a white cargo van with Tsang’s Produce on the side was facing back down the street with the driver’s side door open.

  “Everybody out,” yelled Rick, “Get to the van, Dad take Sam!” Rick got out and dropped the two closest infected with single shots from the AR-15. He ran to the van to check for the keys. It was still running! He led with the assault rifle as he stuck his head in the cab to check for any unwelcome strays. Both the cab and the back of the van were devoid of infected. There were assorted crates in the back, but there was just enough room for his small crew of survivors. He spun quickly and fired at a staggering fat man in a bloody lab coat. He hit him in the lower jaw, and the undead fell, but started getting up again quickly. More were coming.

  “The van is clear! Get in, hurry!” he yelled.

  Chris opened the back of the van and Paul put Sam inside, followed by Anna, then he squeezed in himself. It was cramped, but he felt immediately safer. Chris ran up front and fumbled with the passenger door. “It’s locked,” he shrieked. Rick fired once more, but didn’t wait to see if the shot hit. He jumped in the driver’s seat and slammed the door, while leaning over to open Chris’s side. Three dead slapped the driver’s side of the van as Chris yanked the door open and got in. They were now facing back the way they had come and what was coming straight at them was nothing short of terrifying. The street ahead was a veritable sea of walking dead, numbering in the hundreds.

  “Holy crap…” Chris said, wide-eyed.

  “Tell Dallas we’re OK and to keep going.” Rick did his own three point turn, slamming into two moaning figures. He got the vehicle turned around as Chris finished telling Dallas what happened.

  Dallas saw that the rest of his group had gotten safely into a van and that the van was moving. The garbage truck turned back around and headed again for the waterfront. In a few seconds, the truck had sped through the open gate into a large parking lot, with white plastic covered boats on jacks. There were no infected in the area, so Dallas climbed out and ran back to the gates. The van came speeding through, and Dallas pulled the gate closed, wrapping a heavy chain around the upright poles on the chain link gate.

  The side door of the van slid open, and Paul got out eating an apple. He tossed one to Dallas. The back of the van had held a bounty of fresh produce; apples, tangerines, cucumbers, lettuce, tomatoes, and many other assorted vegetables in small vented crates. There were burlap sacks of peppers and onions too.

  “That gate is sturdy, but I ain’t got a lock for it, let’s git goin’.”

  The survivors got in their respective vehicles, and weaved between the aisles of trailered vessels toward the water. Some infected could be seen inside the gates, but not many. Outside the fence was a different matter. Hundreds were swarming down the hill toward them, but it would take a good fifteen minutes for the stumbling infected to reach the gate. The survivors passed a small bait and tackle convenience store as they drove to the docks. Dallas stopped the truck in front of a long dock with eight boats of assorted sizes moored to it. Everybody jumped out, and Billy used his axe to open the locked gate at the top of the gangway. Billy and Earl ran down the dock to the end and found a beautiful Sea Ray Sedan. “This will fit us, but we need the keys,” Earl said.

  “Got that right,” agreed Billy.

  Earl and Billy raced back up the dock and up the gangway to tell the rest of the group about their find. There were still no infected to be seen, but everyone was wary. Shots could be heard in the distance, and greasy black smoke plumes were rising into the sky from the depths of the city. Rick was giving orders to everyone in an attempt to get going.

  “These are all private boats, the keys won’t be here,” said Rick. “We’re going to have to hot wire it.”

  “I can deal with that,” Dallas said.

  “Good! Dallas, try to get the boat started, Earl, you cover him. Anna, you Billy, and Chris unload the food from the back of the van, my father and I will cover from the front and back. Sam, you stay with me.”

  The food was loaded on to the boat in less than ten minutes, but Dallas was having trouble getting it started. “Damnable thing don’t have electronic ignition,” he wailed, “What kinda dumbass don’t get electronic ignition, this is a ‘92 for Christ’s sake.
I gotta take the whole panel off, I need a Phillips.” He looked at Earl and Earl went below to look for a tool box.

  Six infected had shown up and been dispatched as they came. “Alright, we have some supplies, but not nearly enough,” Rick said to the group. “I want to hit that little package store we passed and get some more stuff, specifically water and other drinks. There’s some sacks in the back of the van we can use to carry smaller items. Anna, run down and tell Dallas and Earl what we’re doing, then come back and cover the dock from here.”

  “Alone?” she asked, wide-eyed.

  “Shut this gate behind you and use this pole to lock the door from the other side.” Rick picked up a three-foot length of dirty pipe from the ground behind a white concrete car stop. “You’ll be fine. If anything comes knocking, get to the boat and let the guys know.”

  “But…” she stammered.

  “I’ll stay Rick, take Anna with you,” Paul volunteered.

  Anna looked incredibly relieved. “What about you?” she asked Rick. “If they show up, how will you get back to the boat?”

  “Gonna have to figure that one out as we go,” he told her. “Alright, let’s move.”

  Paul went through the wooden gate and wedged the small pipe between the gangway rails and the door. He tried it, and the door wouldn’t open. He stepped carefully down the gangway and everybody else piled into the van.

  11

  The van skidded to a halt outside the convenience store. “Two minutes!” Rick said. Billy, Chris, and Anna slid the side door open, and rushed out of the vehicle and into the store. Billy smashed the glass in the front door, and the three of them headed in while Rick covered the area with the SPAS-12. He had left the AR-15 with his dad, and needed a cannon for close encounters. Sam sat on the edge of the van in the open side doorway, and Rick strode a few feet away from her , looking around. Sam called to him and they started talking. Sam giggled.