Dead 09: Spring

by T. W. Brown

  Scrambling away, Glenn had decided that it was best to take a “sprint and drift” approach. He would jog a short distance and then walk a few steps before stopping to turn and take a look and ensure that the herd remained interested in him.

  Besides just getting the zombies away from that entrance to the school, he had another task. He was supposed to actually take them on a big circuit that would eventually lead them right back to where they started. It was all part of Cynthia’s master plan.

  The plan was for Cynthia to try and find a way into the school. She was supposed to make sure that the entrance was clear so that he could lead his zombies to it and get them to follow him inside. Once that was done, he was supposed to get out of the school any way and as quickly as possible. On the other side of the athletic fields was a car dealership. That was their rally point. From there, it would be a tough but plausible run north.

  On the plus side of things, they would be able to use the now ruined neighborhoods to act as cover. On the bad side, they had no idea what they might run into. If he gave it too much thought, Glenn would start to see the small cracks in Cynthia’s plan as they became huge chasms. Each time the doubts began to arise, he shook them off. He had to trust her.

  As he made a stop at the intersection where he would be making his first turn, he saw a few of the zombies almost appear to put on a little burst of speed as if they thought that he had finally given up. Of course a burst of speed for a zombie amounted to nothing more than a medium-paced walk. Hell, if it was not for the sun, he would not even be breaking a sweat.

  When he resumed walking, Glenn kept his pace just fast enough to keep a regular distance between himself and the zombies. He figured he might lose some along the way, but he wanted as many as possible to stay with him and be there to flood this school-turned-hideout.

  Of course there was still the chance that this place was not the right location. There was the chance that none of the information Cynthia had forced out of their prisoner had been correct. And then there was the whole part of whether or not they could actually find the baby…that woman…and escape with their lives. There were just so many “ifs” in this situation.

  Once he was confident that the herd was still willing to follow him, he picked up his pace to the next corner. He was about to make the turn that would start taking him back to the school when he pulled up. He could make out what might be the top of the school from his current location. There was a pillar of smoke just starting to roll skyward. It was thick enough to still withstand the breeze and not dissipate.

  There was nothing in the plan that could be the reason for what he was seeing. That could only mean one thing to Glenn: something was wrong! Taking off at a sprint, Glenn no longer cared about the zombies on his heels. The only thing that mattered was Cynthia.

  As he ran, he began to curse himself. What had he been thinking? He had just stepped aside and listened quietly as Cynthia planned what had been a fool’s errand from the start. She was going to die. There was no reason he should expect her to be able to slip in like some freaking commando, steal back the baby, assassinate the evil villain, and then emerge to meet him where they would kiss and then head off into the sunset.

  He still had a slight dogleg to round before he would have a better view. His heart was pounding and he felt sick to his stomach. He should have demanded that Cynthia give up on this dangerous undertaking. He was her husband and sworn to protect her. Instead, he had done little more than run away again and leave her to a terrible fate! He could try to make an excuse for when he’d abandoned Mel and Kyle, but this was his wife!

  “I’m so sorry, Cynthia!” He ran as fast as he could. “We should have just gotten your strength back and put this place behind us,” he growled as he came around that gradual bend and could now see the school clearly.

  Sure enough, there was smoke rising from someplace well back in the actual school complex itself. To make matters worse, he had not managed to clear the entrance of all of the undead. There were still far too many for him to fight through. Their entire plan had hedged on the idea that they be able to open the doors and have the zombies act as a distraction. There was no scenario that he could even begin to imagine where they were able to succeed without that element.

  He was less than a half a block away from the T-intersection and the school when a group of men carrying guns, some in uniforms, ran past. He dove into the closest yard and craned his neck to get a look at the wall of undead that were curb-to-curb and coming up the street. He had to make a decision, but before he could, there was an eruption of gunfire. Fortunately, there was plenty of trees and shrubbery shielding him not only from view of the armed group, but from their bullets as well.

  He moved down the side of the house, pausing to take one more look at the zombies. Several had fallen in the hailstorm of bullets, but it hadn’t really made a dent. It was obvious that the detachment of men figured out pretty much the same thing, because they stopped firing and he could hear their shouts growing just a bit distant.

  There was a moment of relative silence that was only interrupted by the sounds of many shuffling feet and the occasional moan. Glenn was confused, but he knew that he could not stay hidden in the side yard of this house. He had to get to the school and try to see what might have befallen his beloved Cynthia.

  Reaching the gate that opened into the back yard, Glenn tried to open the latch, but found that it had rusted to the point where the entire latch mechanism was fused. He had no choice but to pull himself up. When he did, he found himself staring down at what had once been a pair of Beagles.

  One of the creatures had an ear torn off and most of its tail gone. The other looked to have been ripped open at the belly. Of course both had suffered these fates long ago and now were filthy putrid masses of patchy, mottled skin with bits of fur still clinging in places. The pair were staring up at him, mouths open and dark fluid dripping from black tongues.

  “Jesus!” Glenn could not help but yell. Actually, it was more of a shriek, and he would have been embarrassed had there been anybody nearby to hear it.

  The moan of a zombie came from behind him. In that instant, he was very quickly reminded that he was not alone. He turned to see a few zombies peeling off from the main group and coming his way through the waist-high brush and weeds.

  With little options, Glenn decided on the one he felt gave him the best chance. He vaulted over the fence, leaping and landing as far from the zombified Beagles as possible. Regaining himself, he drew his machete and made quick work of the two dogs just as the first zombie began to paw and slap at the tall wooden gate that would give access to this back yard.

  Not bothering to wait and see how long the fence might hold, he took off once more. He would have to climb over a few more fences and cut through a few more yards, but he would be able to remain out of sight from the living and the undead.

  Reaching the last yard, he was a little surprised as he crept into the front yard and realized that it was the very house that he had taken cover in when they had started this fiasco. He could still see his red streamers fluttering. The big difference was that there was a herd of undead passing by on the street.

  That…and the sounds of men shouting for somebody to “Halt!”

  ***

  Ronni looked up to see Brett standing with several others. The double doors to the barn flew open and she could not count all the heads. There looked to be at least twenty more people in there. This was worse than she thought.

  “Now hold on!” Dustin snapped, but the crowd in the barn rushed them.

  Ronni turned to run, but a hand caught her by the hair and yanked her back. She spun and lashed out with a foot, connecting with the groin of the thirty-something-year-old man that had obviously thought her an easy target. He dropped to the ground in a strained yelp and Ronni took off.

  “Get help!” she heard Scott yell.

  Yeah, she was going to get help alright; just probably not the kind Scott thought she
was getting. As she ran, she noticed people stopping to give her strange looks. It was not until she had passed the fourth or fifth person that she thought to yell, “There is an attack at the big barn!”

  She was not about to elaborate. If she yelled attack, then people would probably just assume the worst and grab a weapon. Of course, if they were on Brett’s side, then she was making things worse. She just could not be bothered with that at the moment.

  Cutting between two of the new houses being built, Ronni sprinted across what was going to be the corn field. A few individuals were working, but they took off in the other direction as soon as she yelled out her alarm.

  As she approached the big Quonset hut, she noticed Tina Curry standing watch. She liked Tina. This would work in her favor since she knew that the woman had a huge crush on Dustin. They had talked about it the last time that she had stayed over at the woman’s house.

  Holy cow, she thought, that had been when my dad had been sent on that mission to look into supplies at some truck stop. That had also been when she had volunteered to go help search for that group of missing children.

  “What’s got you so worked up, Ronni?” the woman asked in her peculiar accent. Tina was originally from Philadelphia and she sounded funny to Ronni when she spoke. It was like listening to a female version of that Rocky guy from one of her mom’s favorite movies.

  “They are attacking over at the big barn!” Ronni panted.

  The woman unslung the rifle on her shoulder. “You stay here…ain’t nobody gonna try and do anything here. Plus, this is about as far from the fences as you can get. Any damn zombies that got into this place will have to walk forever to reach you. But just in case…” The woman took off her webbed belt and handed it over to Ronni with the holstered pistol and a pouch holding two spare mags. “You shouldn’t be out and about without a weapon anyways. Place ain’t safe these days.”

  With that, Tina took off. Ronni felt a pang of remorse for not telling the woman that it wasn’t zombies. That last comment especially had her thinking that Tina would certainly not be part of that group of crazies. Still, a person had a natural reaction to hurry when they thought that the zombies were coming.

  Once the woman had vanished from sight, Ronni turned to the door. She tried to twist the knob and cursed; the stupid thing was locked! If Tina had a key, she had not given it to Ronni.

  Removing the black semi-automatic pistol from the holster, Ronni was a little surprised at the weight. It sure seemed heavy. She gave the weapon an inspection; it was loaded. Gripping it with both hands, she raised it to about where she figured the doorknob to be and let her finger curl around the trigger. Squeezing, she felt her arms fly up a bit as if somebody had just smacked the bottoms of her clenched fists.

  Taking a moment to inspect, she was disappointed to see that there was a nice hole about two inches to the right of the doorknob. She took a step closer and tried to aim like her dad had taught her with a rifle. She fired a second time and was elated when the doorknob practically fell off.

  Ronnie shoved the pistol in the holster and stepped into the long, dark building. She did a mental slap of her forehead.

  “Crap,” she breathed, “forgot to bring a light.”

  She took a few steps in and felt her entire plan seep from her. There was just no way that she could feel around and find what she was looking for and then hope to get back in time to be of any help.

  Ronni spun in frustration and felt her heart leap. Hanging on a hook just inside the door was a lantern. To make it an even better find, there was a lighter sitting on the shelf right beside where the lantern hung. She did not know why somebody had thought to do this, but she wanted to give them a big hug right at that moment.

  In a matter of seconds, she had the lantern lit and was moving in among the boxes. She thought back to when Dustin had taken her and her dad on a tour of the place. Whether he had been showing off, or was genuinely just proud, he had made a bid deal of one box in particular.

  “M320 Grenade Launcher Module,” she read the lettering stamped on the green metal case.

  Opening the lid she pulled it out. Picking it up, Ronni pulled out several of the strangely shaped rounds and shoved them in every pocket.

  Hurrying outside, she stopped to fumble over the thing. It took her a lot longer than she expected to figure out how to get the damn thing loaded and ready. She hoped that she had done it right. Even more importantly, she really hoped that she would not have to actually fire the weapon. She didn’t want to blow anybody up, and unlike a gun, she knew that she would not be able to direct her fire at one person. The only way that this would work is if there were a group of Brett’s people together without anybody that was not on their side mixed in. Still, it could not be helped.

  Ronni took off at a run. As she drew nearer, she heard a lot of yelling and cursing. The one thing that she was grateful for was that there were no gunshots.

  Rounding the corner of the last house that she could use as cover, Ronni saw a scene that made her almost want to be sick. From the big beam that came out from the loft, they had Dustin hanging; only, he wasn’t dead. He was kicking his feet and his hands were trying desperately to get between the rope and his neck. There was a circle of people around him and they were all yelling and screaming.

  She didn’t see Scott anywhere, so she had to figure that he was somewhere in the midst of all those people. She also did not see Tina. She pushed aside the guilt that tried to rise up. That was all stuff that she would have to deal with later. Right now, she had to stop this.

  She looked down at the weapon and then back at the crowd. An idea came and she ducked back behind the house. The first thing that she would need to do was to ensure that she could reload this thing quickly. She went through the steps to remove the round, and then reload it. That seemed easy enough. She still had no idea if she had done it right. The only way she could be sure was to go ahead with her plan.

  Ronni stepped back around the corner of the house. Her eyes scanned the area for someplace open. She really was hoping that she would not have to actually kill somebody.

  Bringing the stock up to her shoulder, Ronni looked through the funny shaped sight and hoped. She squeezed the trigger and heard a disappointing “thop” sound. She dropped the barrel end of the weapon in frustration just as an explosion came, sending a puff of dirt into the air.

  ***

  “Listen, I am sorry about the theatrics,” Sergeant Pitts said as he took a seat across the table from Jody. “But the reality is that we have had some pretty bad luck with other survivor groups.”

  “And you thought that we might be like them? Jody scoffed. “I got news for ya, we have been on the level with you from the beginning. All of the crap…all of the games? That has been all you, so don’t give me a line about how you had to be sure that you could trust us. You basically blackmailed my people into sending our women to act as breeding stock.”

  “You don’t understand!” Pitts smacked his hand on the table. “If humanity is going to have any chance at survival, we have to reproduce. And if we can add some depth to our gene pool, then so much the better. Otherwise, we may not last another decade.”

  “And did you ever stop to think that maybe we weren’t supposed to?”

  “Don’t get up on some kind of high horse with me, Rafe.” The sergeant sat back in his chair and raised an eyebrow at Jody. He waited patiently for the man to catch his meaning. When it happened, a visual flush of red came to Jody’s face.

  “We were doing what we did under orders, the situation was fluid and things went bad fast. We couldn’t start questioning or else we would have fallen like so many of the others that we were in contact with,” Jody said, his voice barely a whisper as if he might be replaying some terrible event in his mind.

  “Don’t try to sell me. And that excuse about following orders stopped being valid around the time of Vietnam, you know it and so do I.”

  “So…what…you were being some sort
of moral compass for the unit when you went AWOL?”

  “They were going to send her to some medical facility to use as a lab rat. And I don’t know about you, but I have not seen any sort of miracle cure appear. Hell, I bet those places fell just like anyplace else. This wasn’t some cold or flu bug. This was the stuff that horror movies were made of…the kind of unreal scenario that lots of people talked and joked about, but nobody took seriously.”

  “Still, those first weeks…how could we know?”

  “We torched an entire town and shot anybody who tried to escape!” Pitts slapped the table again and rose to his feet. “We were murderers…we were the bad guy!”

  “Everything okay, Sarge?” a man stuck his head in the room, his rifle in his hands.

  “Fine, Stallings…just rehashing some old times…reliving some emotional memories.” Pitts gave a dismissive wave of his hand and took his seat. Stallings disappeared from the doorway, but he eyed Jody first as if to perhaps remind him that he was being watched. “We were supposed to protect…and how did things go in Bald Knob?”

  “And I did the best I could to stay as long as I could and help those people,” Jody shot back. “What did you do? Oh…that’s right! You LEFT!” Jody was done trying to keep civil. If Pitts was going to kill him, then so be it, but he was not going to play games with this man anymore.

  The sergeant stared at Jody from across the table. For several long moments, the two men said nothing. Then, Pitts nodded and got up. He turned away from Jody and looked out the window.

  “Listen, Rafe,” Pitts sighed, suddenly sounding tired, “if we are going to coexist, then I have to know that I can count on you and your people.”

  “That street runs both directions, Sarge,” Jody said, putting a distasteful spin on the man’s title. “You talk a good game, but the way I see it, you are pushing us around, holding the threat of being wiped out over our heads. How do you think we feel? And this latest stunt…it was childish and could have gotten one or all of my team killed.”