The Rising Dead

by Devan Sagliani

  If we could learn to understand their innate patterns, Travis thought last night as he drifted off to sleep, we could exploit them to our advantage.

  He'd forgotten all about it when he woke up, but somewhere in the back of his mind the two trains of thought were fusing together. The revelation came to him in a flash of inspiration as the rest argued. It was all there, right in front of him.

  It’s just like a game, Travis thought in a burst of inspiration. If we draw them out into the open, distract them with a decoy, we can pick them off while safely leading them into our trap.

  Maybe he hadn't wasted his life playing video games after all! He could use the knowledge he'd learned from those gaming hours to help develop a real world strategy that would save them. He wasn't worthless! He felt like he was going to burst with excitement. He had to remind himself to speak slowly and not lose control.

  Be cool, he thought. This is your moment to shine.

  Travis explained that if they made a straight run for the base that the zombies would come at them from all sides, surrounding them and pushing in until they overwhelmed them. But if they lured the creatures into one spot away from the direction of the base, they could create a killing zone in the opposite direction of where they intended to flee.

  “Everything about it is a huge risk,” Gunner said, shaking his head. “First we'd have to fight our way out the front doors. Then you'd have to send out a decoy to lure them in and pray that they fell for it.”

  “Exactly,” Travis said. “The decoy is essential to the plan, but we don't send out one . . . we send out two.”

  “I can't wait to hear this one,” Holt said, sounding sarcastic, when really it was obvious to anyone with eyes that he yearned to be the one sent out into the fray, to feel the blood pumping in his face as he killed as many of them as possible.

  “Here's how it works,” Travis said calmly, then he laid out the plan he'd been toying with.

  Travis explained that they would arm Holt and send him out first, once they'd cleared the front door. Parker would follow behind him with as much flammable liquid as he could carry. Holt would drive forward through the ranks like a bulldozer, knocking down the undead berserker style with his crowbar like he had the day before. Parker would douse the walking dead as they passed, moving in a half circle back toward the right side of the building where the garbage truck was smashed into the hardware store window. From there, Travis and Gemma would hurl handmade Molotov cocktails at the advancing hordes. If all went according to plan, the zombies would follow Holt and Parker in a spiral that allowed for Max and Gunner to literally come up behind them and chop their heads clean off. Travis would fire the flare gun they had at the truck after Holt and Parker had lured them to the mark. Any zombies not torn to shreds or incinerated by the blast would surely be lit by the accompanying explosion. With a little luck they might light others on fire as well.

  At that point they would make a straight line to Nellis behind them--Travis and Gemma on the inside, with the rest of the armed ringing them and slashing at any stragglers that remained, like a barbed bait ball. That last part Travis had cribbed from an episode of Blue Planet on the Discovery channel after watching a shoal of trigger fish come together into a rapidly spinning ball to fend off a tuna attack.

  They aren’t saying anything, Travis thought as his speech came to an end and they all stared at him. Great. I’ve blown it and now everyone thinks I’m nuts. The burst of euphoria buoying him up flagged as they stared speechlessly at him. He could feel the muscles in his face twitching.

  “I fucking love it,” Holt said at last. “It's full on beast mode!”

  “It's gonna take a lot of balls,” Parker said.

  Travis exhaled and the tension in his face and neck disappeared.

  “Not bad, Travis,” Max agreed. “Put the muscle out front and let the more nimble players do the picking off.”

  “So what am I supposed to do?” They turned and stared at Reggie.

  “I'd say you hang back with us and pick off zombies as they come at us,” Travis said. “And try not to get killed.”

  “You okay with that bro?” Holt gave him a stern look.

  “You mean I get a chance to finally take some of these fuckers down?” Reggie stared at them all, the grin starting to blossom on his face. “Shit. I'm more than okay with that.”

  “That's good to hear,” Holt said with a smile, patting him on the shoulder. “Welcome to the team Cock Hammer.”

  Reggie smirked at his new nickname.

  “Okay then,” Gunner said, won over by their group enthusiasm for the plan. “Let's get to work. We don't know how long before they figure out how to get in or that wall crumbles all the way.”

  They wasted no time setting off down the aisles, grabbing items for Travis's big plan. Gemma didn't say much. She stuck to Travis, beaming a smile at him whenever he glanced her way as she helped to sort out arms from gear. Every now and then Travis would ask her how she felt and she would tell him she was great. They were floating on a cloud in the middle of a nightmare.

  She really cared for him. He was the kind of guy she'd always said she was going to date, but never did. He was smart, funny, caring, and loyal. She wished she had more time to see where things were meant to go with him. Deep down she knew he'd make a good father, a good provider, and an attentive partner that would never leave her side.

  Why did I have to find him now? she wondered. Why couldn’t we have met last semester? We could have spent the whole summer together.

  She'd watched in awe as he laid out his brilliant plan to help them escape, hoping that a mind as sharp as his would be able to come up with a plan to get them to safety, maybe rebuild the world.

  If we can just make it to the base, she thought, then everything will be okay. She didn't know what she would do after that. She couldn't think that far ahead anymore. She had to stay in the moment as best she could. Besides, there was no guarantee they were going to make it there alive.

  It was a crazy plan--not the worst idea, but not fool proof. Anything could go wrong. There was no way of knowing what would. It was the only plan they had though, since no one could come up with a better one.

  Travis will get us there, she thought, fighting back tears as she stared at him. He won’t let us down.

  Holt stood guard by the hole in the wall and made sure no one and nothing got in while the rest of the group scavenged the supplies. Gunner spent most of his time culling all the tools that would make good weapons, basically anything sharp and metal, putting them at the front of the store. By the time they were done, Max had a camping ax in each hand. Gemma and Travis had trail shovels with claw backs, mostly for the reach of the wooden handle. They both also had four tiny mason jars stuffed with cloth taped around their waists. The jars were filled to the brim with a volatile concoction of flammable liquids from the auto parts store. Travis had taped the flare gun to his right hip as well, with the stick already loaded, making himself look more like a gun fighter than a suicide bomber.

  “Don't trip,” Max said as she taped the jars to them, “or you are totally screwed.”

  “I won't,” Travis said. “You make sure you don't fall down.”

  “I am starting to love this plan,” Holt said with a hoot. “McAnus, you are one twisted little fucker!”

  “This is going to work,” Travis said confidently. “Just stick to the plan and watch your step. Got it?”

  “You sure you ready for this Cock Hammer?” Holt teased his new pal.

  “Hey,” Reggie said, “we make it through this I might just show it to you again.”

  “Once was more than enough,” Holt said.

  “If you children are done playing grab ass,” said Gunner, walking to the front door, “I'd say let's get this over with.” He put the bolt cutters to the chains he'd strung up the night before and snapped the chains free. They fell with a loud clanging to the ground.

  “On the count of three,” Gunner said, putting his
hand on the doors. Everyone braced themselves for the worst case scenario of a snarling zombie horde overrunning them the minute they pulled the doors open.

  “One, two . . .”

  Gemma hugged closer to Travis as he steeled himself for the fight.

  “Three!”

  CHAPTER TWENTY SEVEN

  Gunner yanked the doors open and Holt surged forward followed by Parker, only there wasn't anyone there. They were out and into the street looking around cautiously when they realized the pack had roamed away again, making loops in search of new victims. The people they'd killed earlier had reanimated and joined the hunt. Holt stopped and scratched his head, looking like a confused cartoon character.

  “Well that was easy,” he said, feeling a little disappointed there hadn't been more of a struggle.

  Stay patient, he reminded himself. You’re going to get to kill tons of them soon enough.

  Parker seemed to be equally surprised by how well things had gone. Less than an hour before, a garbage truck had smashed through their safe haven, making it uninhabitable with zombies trying to climb in and eat them. Now they were wandering around as if six hot blooded humans weren't just walking about out in plain sight. He didn't get it.

  How is this possible, he wondered to himself. Why weren’t they clawing at the front doors like they were an hour ago, trying to chew through brick and steel to eat our steaming guts?

  They hadn't gotten many breaks since the crisis had started and he wasn't sure how to react. Truth be told, he felt like curling up in a ball in the middle of the street and laughing. He knew they weren't anywhere near a state of safety, that the battle was far from won, and that more than anything else he needed to keep it together. Any moment now one of the living dead would spot them, signal the others, and the fight to survive would continue.

  This is your version of cracking up, he told himself. Pull it back in. Stay tough. Stay alive.

  He did his best to suppress a giggle as he waved to the rest that it was safe to join them. Slowly they slunk out, carrying their makeshift weapons with them. Soon they ringed Holt and Parker in a semi-circle at the edge of the sidewalk. Silently they took in the scenery, assessing it in their own way. The streets were stained red with spilled blood and black gore but not a single corpse remained from the day’s earlier carnage. There was no sign of the man who had smashed his vehicle into their hideout. He was now one of them for sure, driven by hunger, a mindless feeding machine.

  “What the hell is going on?” Reggie asked.

  “I don't know,” Gunner said. “But it can't be good. Look.”

  He pointed off towards the end of the street. A line of men in green containment suits came marching lock step up the street towards them. Gunner could make out a high pitch sound coming from plastic speakers hanging off the front of their gear. He'd been right! They'd figured out a sound frequency that either repelled them or slowed them down.

  “Fucking eh,” Max said. “The government is finally stepping in to do something.”

  “It's about fucking time,” Holt roared.

  “Guys,” Travis said. “I've got a really bad feeling about this.”

  “I'm with McAnus,” Reggie said.

  “Don't call him that,” Holt said. “Come to think of it since when can we trust the government? I mean how do we know they didn't start this in the first place again?”

  “Don't be ridiculous,” Parker said. “You've been paranoid as long as I can remember about the government. You're almost as bad as Gunner.”

  “Right now I'd say I'm as bad as Gunner,” Holt corrected him. “If not worse.”

  “Over here,” Parker yelled, waving his hands over his head.

  In response the men in the green suits reached forward in unison. A wave of fire shot out in front of them, consuming the zombies in their immediate wake. The green men barely slowed to push the burning bodies aside or step over them. They kept advancing forward towards the small band of surviviors.

  “Does anyone else think we're fucked?” Max said in a squeaky little voice.

  “Guess this means that Nellis is out?” Holt asked. “I mean if they're from the military and they were sent out here to kill anything that moves, we'd be crazy to march right up to their front door and turn ourselves in.”

  A loud roar ripped across the sky. They looked up to see two fighter jets blast past them. In the distance a loud explosion rumbled. They turned to see a ball of black smoke rising up from the middle of Las Vegas, right in a residential district.

  “Gunner,” Max shouted. “We're going to need a new plan man.”

  “There's only one thing left at this point,” Gunner said.

  “I'd love to hear it,” Holt said, looking nervous.

  “The gutters,” Gunner replied. “We go underground.”

  “You want us to go down in those?” Max said.

  “It's a fucking sewer,” Parker shouted. “How is getting locked in the toilet going to protect us from the living dead or the government?”

  “I've been down there before,” Gunner said. “It's cleaner than you'd think. There is a whole system of tunnels that lead across the whole city. Flash floods clean 'em out twice a year or more. They got whole communities of families living down there you know, off the grid. That's our biggest problem, making sure we stay clear of them.”

  “I'd be willing to trudge through shit to live,” Holt said. “Whole lotta shit in fact.”

  “How do we get in?” Gemma asked.

  “We lay flat on our stomachs and push ourselves in,” Gunner said. “There is a wide section to the right of the curb. That's our best bet. Once we're in it opens up. It'd help keep us safe from not only the men in green but from the falling bombs as well.”

  “So how do we distract them while we slip out,” Max said.

  “We're running out of time,” Parker said. “Whatever we do we better do it fast.”

  “You people are all crazy,” Reggie said. “They aren't going to kill us. We're Americans. All we have to do is get their attention.”

  Reggie turned and sprinted off towards the men in green suits, smiling and waving his hands over his head.

  “Cock Hammer!” Holt yelled.

  “Let him go,” Max said. “Let's see what happens.”

  “She's right,” Gunner said. “Fucker volunteered to be a guinea pig. Let's see if he's right.”

  Reggie slowed as he reached the front of the line of men. He kept his hands up. The line stopped advancing for a moment but didn't budge. Reggie took a single step forward before the fire shot out and consumed him. He turned in circles, wailing at the top of his lungs as the other men fired flammable liquid at him from all sides. Gemma let out a blood curdling scream. Max covered her face with her trembling hands.

  “Oh my God,” Holt said involuntarily.

  “New plan,” Parker said. “We go into the sewer. Now!”

  Travis and Gemma had already started taking off the jars taped to them and setting them on the ground. Max slid into the gutter easily. Holt had to really push to get in but eventually he managed to squeeze in. Gemma and Travis went next.

  “You coming?” Gunner asked.

  “I got an idea,” Parker said picking up one of the jars that Travis had set down. Gunner smiled.

  “I like the way you think son,” he said, picking up one in each hand. Parker threw the jar just in front of the troops, covering the ground with his perfect pitch. Gunner handed him another. He spiraled it to the exact same spot.

  “Nice throw,” Gunner said, handing him another.

  “Guess me arm isn't thrown out just yet,” Parker said, hurling the next high and hitting one of the soldiers in the head. He fell flat and didn't get up. The rest kept coming.

  “A little out of the strike zone,” Gunner said, handing him the last jar. “Make it count.”

  Parker wound up and hurled the jar as hard as he could, slamming it into the shins of one of the men in green who fell over and accidentally discharged
his weapon, sending a wave of fire out in front of them. A wall of flames shot to the sky, obscuring them from sight. Gunner and Parker could hear screaming in the distance, followed by the roar of engines overhead.

  “Sounds like our cue to leave,” Gunner said.

  “Right behind you,” Parker said.

  “Good job kid,” Gunner replied as they slid down into the gutter and into the darkness.

  CHAPTER TWENTY EIGHT

  They hadn't been walking long before they began to hear what sounded like the echoes of human voices. At first Gunner thought his mind might be playing tricks on him. His eyes weren't adjusting to the darkness as well as he'd hoped.

  “What was that?” Max said, her camping axes held out in front of her.

  “Quiet,” Gunner whispered. “Everybody stop moving for a second.”

  They froze in place. The sound of water echoing along the walls came in waves, carrying discordant rhythms from somewhere deeper in. Above them the ground shook as if two bombs had gone off close by and dust and sediment rained onto their heads. Gemma went to scream again but Travis covered her mouth with his hand.

  “I don't hear anything,” Parker said.

  His words drifted along the network of underground tunnels, bringing back the sound of a dog's bark somewhere in the distance.

  “What was that?” Max asked.

  Several more dogs joined in the barking.

  “Dogs,” Gunner said. “They could be up near the surface, next to a drain.”

  “Or maybe the bombing scared them down here,” Parker suggested.

  “It's possible,” Gunner allowed. “Or they live down here with their owners.”