Enclave: A Novel of the Zombie Apocalypse

by Robert Morganbesser

  Spiros was unmoved. "Raise your arms and turn around slowly."

  Now her face twisted in anger. "What?"

  "Now!" Snarled Spiros.

  Face white with suppressed anger; she began to turn in a slow circle. Other than a small scar on her thigh, she was flawless. Taylor gathered up her clothes and handed them to her.

  "Sorry Miss Frances. We had to be sure that you weren't a Lazarite. Get dressed and stay with the children, alright?"

  She dressed quickly. "I hope you both got a . . ."

  A scream of pain cut her off in mid sentence. Before she could blink, Taylor and Spiros were gone.

  Taylor ratcheted his shotgun, feeding a shell into it as he dashed into the stairwell. Spiros was right behind him. The screams had stopped as quickly as they started but both knew who it was; the pregnant girl, Eva was in pain.

  Taylor stopped outside the room where the girl was resting. Raising a hand, he signaled Spiros to halt. Moving to the other side of the door, Taylor turned the knob. As the latch clicked, Taylor shouldered the door open. What they saw in a world of horror would have been to weaker men, unendurable.

  Eva lay on her back, legs spread and covered in blood. Her vagina was ravaged by the 'birth' of her undead child, the flesh around it torn, bruised and bloody. The hideous abomination of a child, an undead travesty of a baby, uncoordinated, slipping in the gore of its birth was trying to chew through its umbilical cord. Spiros stared. "That fucking thing has teeth!"

  Taylor raised his shotgun, aiming so he’d miss Eva. "It did."

  With a deafening roar, the zombie baby disappeared. Bits and pieces of it blew across the room. On the couch, Eva began twitching and jerking as she began her painful reentry to unlife. Before she could raise her head, Taylor came around the table and placed the barrel of his shotgun against her skull.

  With a second clap of thunder, Eva joined the permanently dead.

  24 April 2032

  Brooklyn, New York

  P.S. 333

  Taylor looked at his watch. It was just after midnight. He could feel the air thickening. Weather was coming in and that could be good or bad. Sitting in the classroom with him were Huston and Chung. They had completed their job of setting booby traps. The traps were good and bad. If one were triggered, everyone would know it. The device would destroy a good number of zombies, but it would also mean they were in the building.

  Young and Rizzo were downstairs keeping an eye on the courtyard. Carter was on the roof with the radio. Spiros was with him. Taylor yawned then made a decision. Keying his mike, he said, "All right. Pop your uppers."

  Taylor reached into his vest and pulled out a disposable syringe. None of them liked using amphetamines, but he didn't feel safe enough to allow anyone to sleep. Jabbing his into his leg, he could feel the ice of the chemicals rushing through his body. The dosage they took was good for twenty hours. After that, they'd need sleep. Taylor could remember back before they'd gone into the Enclave, when the war was full and open, fighting in the streets, zombies everywhere. He'd spent three days on speed and it nearly killed him. That was before he’d lost his eye.

  "Everybody on?"

  There was a chorus of 'Yes’s”, even though no one sounded happy to be following the order.

  Taylor shifted his shotgun to his left hand, well aware that there were only fourteen survivors now. He didn’t want to do it, but they’d tossed Eva’s corpse out the window and into the moat before it could start to stink. February or not, humans rot quickly and no one wanted to share close quarters with a corpse. Funny as it was, few of the older zombies stunk. Most of their wet organs were eaten or rotted away long ago. Fresh zombies, while rotting, could be smelled a mile away. Rot took those that weren’t mobile, leaving them where they lay in the street, puddles with an appetite.

  Taylor made a motion to Huston. In reply, the demo man pulled a deck of cards out of his cargo pocket. “Rummy?” Houston asked. Taylor nodded. Setting their weapons in easy reach, they began to play.

  On watch, Rizzo was hungry. When the others had eaten, he hadn't been relieved. Stomach growling, he hissed to Young, "Hey! I'm gonna go get some rations. You hungry?"

  Young turned and nodded. "I'm starved man. But I don't want to be down here alone."

  Rizzo shook his head. "Relax, Bro. Just stay where they can't see you. They ain't getting in. I’ll be back quick."

  With that, Rizzo was gone.

  Taylor's earpiece buzzed.

  "Taylor."

  "Carter here. Good news. Choppers are inbound, two 'Hawks and two Cobras. I advised them to let us know when they're fifteen minutes out."

  Taylor handed his cards to Huston. "All right. I'm gonna send the kids and Miss Frances up. Spiros will come with them.” Taylor put a hand on Spiros arm. “Keep a close eye on her."

  Spiros nodded. “I feel it too. Something’s not right about her.” He put a hand on his knife. “I could take care of her now. Do it quietly. Only you and I have to know.”

  “Yeah, but what if we’re wrong? What if she’s just a bit mental because of what she’s seen?”

  Spiros nodded. “An eye it is then.”

  Huston put the cards, the backs of which where decorated with a mailed hand grasping a person, away.

  "What's up?"

  Taylor lifted his shotgun. "We're getting out of here earlier than we thought. I want you to go down and get those two up here. Then activate the traps on the stairs. Any Lazarites around, the shit will hit when the birds come in."

  Young could not believe his eyes. There, standing before the gates was that teacher. She was staring at him. Young cursed and stomped out into the courtyard. As soon as he appeared, the Zombies started hissing and growling, sticking their arms through the bars. As he crossed the courtyard, he shook his head. There was something wrong here, but what? Young felt his ampoule of speed. He should have taken it, but he didn't like what it did to him.

  He put a hand on Frances shoulder. "C'mon lady, you shouldn't be out here."

  Frances smiled at him. "Why not? They can't get in. If they do, my people will be with them."

  That was the kicker. Young fumbled for his gun, but he was too late. Frances slammed a knee into his groin, grabbed him by his gear straps, and flung him against the fence. As soon as he hit it, the zombies began pawing at him. Young was still safe. They couldn't tear through his armor. Young snapped his head from side to side, keeping the probing fingers of the zombies at bay. Nearly breathless, he knew help was only a shout away.

  Frances ended this attempt by yanking his combat knife out of his sheath and drawing it across his throat. Before he could yell, blood spurted out of his throat. Grinning into his dying eyes, Frances threw the knife down on the ground. She watched as one of the zombies, this one encumbered with a hump and horribly burned, reached around and dug a finger into the dying Enclavers eye. Others were reaching through and twisting bits of flesh off the dying man's face. As they did, she unclasped his harness and armored vest, allowing them to hang open. Young started to sag down, but the zombies grabbing at him kept him up. Eye’s fluttering, mouth trying to form words, Young’s life faded away.

  The first one popped the eye into his mouth and chewed noisily. Frances laughed and slipped back into the school. She didn't know who the first zombie was, but she would have enjoyed the irony if she had.

  It was Corporal Fred White.

  He'd come back.

  Spiros had the children going up the stairs when Frances appeared. He stared at her, and in a demanding voice said, "Where the fuck have you been?"

  Frances frowned at his use of crude words.

  "I went to the bathroom."

  Spiros stared darkly at her. "Get to the roof. We're getting out."

  Frances went up the stairs. She could feel Spiros eyes between her shoulder blades and wondered if she would make it to the roof without getting a bullet in the head. As she walked up she was wondering where she could hide from this rescue?

  Huston
and Chung caught Rizzo getting an MRE from the pile they'd left in the classroom.

  Chung went ballistic. "What the fuck are you doing up here?"

  Rizzo shook the MRE he was holding. "Getting something to eat! You guys didn't relieve us for chow!"

  Chung slapped the parcel out of his hand. The speed was getting to them. "Didn’t you hear Carter? The birds are inbound. Get the fuck downstairs and get Young. No wait, we'll come with you."

  The pilot in the lead Cobra hated this kind of mission. Some of the fucking Lazarites had some good weaponry, most of it taken from abandoned armories. During the great retreat to the Enclaves, it was impossible to account for everything. Teams were still running salvage missions on armories and factories. Well, if the 'Snatchers didn't clue him in he'd just drop his ordnance on the buildings across he street. That would be a good place to launch an ambush.

  Behind the lead Cobra was a second. This one armed with napalm rockets. Both had 20 mm electric miniguns and gunners who liked to use them.

  In the lead Blackhawk, the pilot keyed his mike.

  "Team Thirteen Alpha, this is Mercy One, do you read?" The pilot was cautious, using the BodySnatchers radio code. Anyone could have heard the term ‘BodySnatchers’, but their radio code name was kept secret.

  Carter's voice, joy in it obvious, replied “Roger Mercy One. Time out?"

  "Time out is five minutes. LZ still Poppa Tango?"

  "Roger that. We may have Lazarites in the area. Over."

  The pilot cursed inwardly. Damn Lazarites. They were worse than the fucking zombies.

  "Roger that. Fire a flare when you hear us."

  Roger, Thirteen Alpha out."

  Rizzo came through the door first and froze. There before the gate, mostly disemboweled, face torn off, was Young. Eyes narrowing in hate and anger, Rizzo unlimbered his flame-thrower. It didn’t occur to him to wonder why his friend was against the fence, he just wanted some payback for his death.

  "You mother fuckers!"

  Chung looked past him and saw the strange zombie with the hump. He stared for a moment then put two-and-two together. That hump was what was left of a flamethrower tank. How the hell hadn’t it exploded? He had a moment to notice that a knife had opened Young’s throat, the clean slice obvious. Looking down he saw that Young’s vest hung open as well.

  Then he heard the first jet of flame shooting out of Rizzo's weapon.

  "Rizzo!" Chung shouted. "No!"

  He was too late. The flame splashed across the zombies, setting them alight as if they were tinder. The zombie that was White brought its arms up. For a second it stood there burning and then the fuel in the tanks erupted. The fireball was easily three meters across. It swept into the courtyard setting Rizzo afire. Chung threw himself back into Huston, knocking him back inside. Rizzo, aflame now tried to scream, inhaled the superheated air, and died. As he fell on his face, his grenades began to cook off. The explosion blew Rizzo to bits and knocked one section of the now weakened gates down.

  Chung got to his feet. "Huston! Get the fuck up!"

  As the flames began to die, the zombies, urged on by their lust for flesh, moved forward. Huston and Chung slammed the door in their faces and latched it. In less time than it took to think about it they retreated, activating all the booby traps laid earlier.

  On the roof, Taylor heard the explosion. Behind him, the children started screaming in fright. Running to the edge of the roof, Taylor peered over. The zombies were through the gates and battering at the doors, trying to get in. From the look of it, they would.

  "Carter!" He screamed. "Tell those flying fucks we need to be evaced NOW!"

  Before Carter could reply, Taylor disappeared down the stairwell.

  Chung was shoving Huston up the stairs when Taylor appeared.

  "What the fuck happened?"

  Chung shoved Huston past Taylor and began gasping out the story.

  Before he could finish, a second explosion rocked the building.

  Huston looked back at them. "They're in."

  Taylor ratcheted his shotgun. "Get to the roof. Move!"

  Carter pulled out his flare pistol. It looked like a revolver, with its cylindrical cartridge, but instead of bullets, each round was a different color flare. Raising it, he shot off a purple then a red. Pausing, he fired the same pair again, then again.

  He hoped the flyboys got the message.

  The lead Cobra pilot cursed silently. Purple and red. Need evac immediately, LZ not safe.

  "Arm weapons. Prepare for attack run. Counter measures to full."

  Sitting in front, the gunner nodded. "All weapons green.” Flipping down the helmet mounted sight, the gunner said, “I’m going to target the buildings across the street."

  "Roger. Assassin 1 to 2 over."

  "Two here."

  "Follow my attack run."

  "Roger."

  Taylor’s gut was right. Crouched in a third floor apartment, their only companion a Stinger anti-air missile waited two Lazarites. They had known that air extraction was the only way to get the unbelievers out. Creed was one of theirs and he’d converted Frances. They’d seen Creed die, but that meant little; they were all willing to die to feed the Blessed. That way led to heaven.

  "Ready the missile," hissed the leader.

  They never got the chance to fire it. Even as he gave the command, ten high explosive rockets tore into the apartment, blowing it to splinters. A moment later ten napalm rockets set the entire block aflame. The city was a tomb, so no one back at command cared how much damage was done during a rescue.

  Carter screamed with joy as the block across the street blew into pieces then burst into flame.

  "Eat me!" He screamed. "Fuck you all!"

  Spiros, keeping an eye on the children, looked at Carter as if he were mad.

  Taylor peered down into the smoke rising from the explosion. From below, he could hear the moans of the zombies.

  "I hope those flyboys brought their ‘A’ game!"

  The first Blackhawk moved in, its door gunner sweeping his weapon back and forth. The chopper came within a few feet of the roof, allowing Carter to toss each child into the crew area. The kids kept up a brave face, but it was clear they were terrified. Miss Frances was reaching up to a crewmember, smiling to let them know all would be ok. She’d decided to allow herself to be ‘rescued’; then see what kind of help she could be to the Lazarites while inside the Enclave.

  Her plan wasn’t going to work the way she thought.

  Carter was about to give her a boost when his headset burst into life, Taylors voice angry. "Don't put her on that fucking chopper! She comes with us!"

  Carter pulled her down and motioned for the chopper to go. As it lifted away, Taylor came striding across the roof. He was talking into his headset the whole way. As he got closer, Carters face went from neutral to angry.

  Behind Taylor, Chung and Huston were setting booby traps on the roof door with the last of their explosives. Rushing to finish their task, they could hear the zombies moaning behind the door. They were in the stairwell.

  Taylor waved to the second chopper. As it came down, he stared at Frances. Putting his face inches from hers, he snarled, “Cuff her. You’re coming back to the Enclave with us bitch. We’re going to wring you out like a rag!”

  The chopper was nearly beating them to death with its prop wash. Spiros slung his rifle and jumped in. Before Frances could move, Carter grabbed her and threw her in. Grabbing her, Spiros shoved her onto a bench, one hand on his kukri knife.

  Huston and Chung were in when one of the traps blew. The blast knocked Taylor to his knees, slightly dazed. Instinctively the pilot took the bird up. Taylor rose shakily to his feet. Seeing the smoke from the door, he lifted his shotgun and fired in that direction. The first of the zombies were knocked back, but the rest pushed on.

  Taylor held his empty weapon in one hand and grabbed his mercy grenade. Before he could pull the pin, hands grasped him and held on. With a scream of eng
ines the chopper rose. Scant inches below the Sergeants feet, the zombies raised their arms and hissed their anger as Chung and Huston lifted him into the copter. As they pulled him in, he yanked the pin out of the grenade and dropped it on the roof.

  He could always get another grenade.

  Spiros had Frances by the arms. Her hands were riot cuffed together.

  Taylor stared at her. Carefully he reached across the compartment and grabbed her by the shirt. Pulling her close he hissed, "You bitch! You murdered Young and got Rizzo killed!"

  She smiled infuriatingly. "I did as the lord wishes."

  Taylor slapped her across the face drawing blood then shoved her back into Spiros. Snapping her head back into the C/I’s face, she heard him grunt with pain. Struggling to regain his balance, Spiros fell on his ass, arms scrabbling for purchase. Cursing, Carter lunged for her, but Frances sidestepped him putting out a leg. Carter fell on his face; Frances went to a knee, scrabbling for his pistol. Taylor, grabbing onto the cargo straps, bellowed into his mike for the team to hold on. Chung, one arm wrapped in cargo netting, put his other arm through Spiros harness. Blinking in pain, Spiros nodded his thanks as he grabbed Chung’s harness, holding on in a death grip.

  Looking back, making sure the team was secure, the pilot yanked his stick to starboard. As the bird tilted to the right, Frances fell across Carter, who was holding on to the deck ties for dear life. Unable to grab onto anything with her hands bound, she went out the open door. Shrieking she disappeared into the night.

  As the pilot righted the chopper, Taylor glanced out into the night. Spitting into the dark he said, "This was how those kids felt."

  Frances screamed all the way down. She smashed onto the roof of a car, denting it, exploding out the remaining windows. Bouncing off, she lay in the street, bleeding and dying. By the time the zombies had their hands in her warm intestines, the men had forgotten her. All they were thinking of was getting back to Enclave 13.