Zombie Dawn Outbreak

by Michael G. Thomas

  Connor struck horizontally with a back fist motion. The force of the heavy implement immediately broke the zombie’s neck and it dropped back to the ground. Dylan ran forward with his bardiche. With a wide grip on the haft he smashed the wood into his opponent’s face, bursting its nose open and throwing the beast back. With the weapon still in motion he shortened his grip and kicked the zombie’s stomach, forcing its head forward. Finally he smashed the heavy bardiche down on the exposed back of the head. The sheer blunt force trauma cracked the skull open, the beast twitching as it collapsed.

  Christian ran towards his opponent with all the enthusiasm needed, just none of the skill. He closed the distance too fast and before he could swing the bill the creature had taken hold of the shaft. He pushed and pulled against the hold of the zombie, but it wouldn’t release.

  “Fuck, fuck, get this fucker off me!” shouted Christian.

  The man desperately struggled but to no avail. He punched at the creature with his mail re-enforced gloves, but it had little effect, except to keep it from closing a few inches closer. With the push and pull of the creature he was thrown to the floor. Christian was now flat on his black, desperately holding the zombie at arm’s length, unable to move.

  Bruce drove his weapon into Christian’s opponent as it still endeavoured to bite him. The pointed metal crushed into the beast’s cheek. Blood spurted from its neck as it slumped over beside the man. Before it could recover Bruce leapt onto his new opponent, punching it continually until he was satisfied that it presented no further threat. Finally he stood back up, admiring the fresh blood on his steel gauntlets that layered on top of the congealed blood he’d gained earlier from the zombie boy.

  It had been a brutal afternoon. Bruce had been happy to have received a purpose in life, but he already wanted to sit down and revel in his success.

  “Jump in!” shouted Bruce.

  He pulled back the tonneau cover on the bed of his car. It was a Holden UTE, a muscle car with a pickup bed for the uninitiated. The car featured a 5.7 litre V8 which made a satisfying sound to Bruce. He considered himself a true adventurer, but his city credentials let him down. The brand new Holden UTE simply contrasted badly to the country desert. The new ride had big rims and a metallic purple spray job.

  Bruce jumped into the driver’s seat, glad he always kept his beloved car’s keys in his pocket. Dylan threw his bardiche into the trunk, before taking shotgun, the others piled into the back. The growly engine roared to life as Bruce looked out at the horde of bloodthirsty creatures up ahead. He already knew the entrance was blocked, but the only safe way out of here was by car, time to find a new route.

  The back tyres spun on the tarmac of the car park, a combination of V8 torque and the weight of his passengers. The car finally roared off in a trail of smoke. Bruce checked out every option available to him, burning around the car park, desperately looking for an alternate exit. As he came to one corner of the car park he pulled on the parking brake and slid the car around.

  “Fuck, mate. Easy!” shouted Connor.

  Dylan was fossicking through the glove box, desperately trying to find something useful.

  “Don’t you keep a handgun in here, mate?” asked Dylan.

  “No mate, because I ain’t a gangster!” said Bruce.

  “You’re fucking useless, mate,” said Dylan.

  “And where’s your machine gun arsehole?” said Bruce.

  “That’s fair,” said Dylan.

  The wheels screeched again in wheel spinning fun. Bruce could finally see a way out, even if the rest of his friends and associates could not. The car gained speed quickly as the powerful motor growled. He was accelerating quickly towards a bush on the rim of the car park.

  “What the fuck, mate?” said Dylan.

  “No choice, mate. There’s no way but the hard way!” said Bruce.

  He flicked his stereo on. The excessive sound system blurted to life, blaring Airborne louder than any motorist would consider sensible. The zombies were continually changing course to adapt to Bruce’s wild changes of direction. They now all headed in one way, the same that he raced towards.

  “Hold on!” shouted Bruce.

  The Holden hit a grass ramp and smashed through a bush at high speed. The weight and speed of the vehicle crashed almost effortlessly through the greenery, causing nothing more than superficial damage to the bodywork. Unfortunately, the embankment the other side was rather steep. Going so fast and the sharp depression caused the vehicle to continue on in the open air.

  The wheels left the ground by a good few feet as the car flew through the air to freedom before the heavy chassis crashed back to the dirt. As it came down Lee lost his hold and was thrown from the rear bed. He’d not held on as Bruce had insisted. It was only fortunate that the low profile tyres landed on a soft material. Bruce giggled as he saw the pathetic idiot hit the ground behind them as the car powered on into the distance.

  “Well at least we lost the arsehole,” said Bruce.

  Christian and Connor looked back out of the bed to see the worthless man tumble down. There were no zombies within fifty yards of him, so he had a chance. All the men were content that they’d not left him to die, and equally happy to be rid of the fool.

  CHAPTER THREE

  Alaska, United States

  Dr Garcia was dreaming, at least she thought she was. She was floating in a cloud but had no idea why. Something was moving in the distance, she tried to focus on it. It looked like a shadow that was moving from side to side. She blinked her eyes, trying to work out what the peculiar shape could be. From the cloud the shape took form, it was that of a man. She shook, as though moving her head would clear the cloud. All it did though was seem to make the man even closer. Then it dawned on her, she was still in the corridor and that shape wasn’t just a man, it was one of those infected people that had attacked them. As adrenaline pumped around her body she snapped out of her delirious state. With her heart pounding, fear kicked in and she shook herself till she started to move. Her mouth was dry and rough, as though she had the worst hangover in her life. Either that or she was dehydrated from not drinking.

  Looking down Dr Garcia saw that there were bodies all around her. One was in fact on top of her legs and midriff. With almost superhuman effort she forced her way out from the mess and into the corridor. She looked back at the shape, the man was still there but appeared entranced by something else. She continued her struggle, lifting herself up onto her knees. She must have been there for a while because both her legs had gone to sleep. She hit her legs, making sure it wasn’t anything more serious. Yes, she could feel the impact, she just needed to move them and get the blood circulating again.

  She looked around the corridor, trying to ascertain what had happened. The last thing she remembered was the fight in the corridor. It looked different now though, the walls were more damaged than before. All along the one side were bullet hole from small arms fire. A small fire burned near the breach where the booby trap had exploded. The floor was packed full of bodies, some were technicians and others were in Hazmat suits. There were trails of blood leading to the elevator and also to the emergency staircase that she had arrived at. Some feeling was now returning to her limbs. She moved her right leg, noticing that she was still wearing her hazmat suit. She looked over to her left leg, the suit was ripped open though she didn’t seem to be hurt. Whatever the biological threat had been it was obviously not affecting her, at least she hoped not.

  “How long have I been here?” she muttered to herself, “this place looks like a warzone.”

  A groan came from the far end of the corridor, it was the infected man. It looked like he’d spotted her. He started moving slowly towards her, dragging what looked like a broken leg behind him. Dr Garcia, remembering now the shooting and fighting in the corridor, tried to move away but her legs were still weak. She looked around for any kind of weapon to defend herself with.

  The nearest bodies to her were the Hazmat suited gua
rds. She pulled herself past them, looking for a nightstick, torch or ideally a firearm. There was nothing on them. She pulled herself further away, finally spotting a discarded firearm, one of the Scar rifles. She looked back, the infected man had covered half the distance to her and she could now see his face. His skin tone was pale and deathly whilst his mouth was open and baring teeth. From his gums dripped blood, though there was something frightening about the dark gore. She reached out, grabbing at the rifle. Catching the sling she pulled it towards her. Though she hadn’t used a firearm for sometime it was a required part of her training for the company. The shooting on the range brought back the basics and in seconds she’d worked out how to release the magazine and checked it had bullets left. She slipped it back into the weapon and then pulled back on the cocking lever. The first bullet slid in and the firearm was ready. She swung around to aim the gun only to find the man was just a few feet away. She panicked and pulled on the trigger, only to feel resistance from the trigger.

  “Shit!” she shouted.

  Dr Garcia fiddled around with the rifle, searching for the safety. The man was now close enough to grab her so she kicked and tried to drag herself a bit further away. The rifle clicked as she finally found the lever. Without hesitation she pointed the weapon directly at his torso and fired a single shot. The man staggered back a step and then moved back, reaching out with its arms. Bloody drool dripped from its mouth.

  “Back off, keep away from me!” she screamed.

  She lowered the gun and fired two more rounds, both into the creature’s left side. It dropped, falling onto its chest and face. The creature groaned as it deposited blood and drool onto the floor. Dr Garcia dragged herself back even further, now able to lift herself up onto her knee for more accurate shooting. The man got up, his bones creaking as he dragged himself towards her. Now having had enough of her predicament, she aimed the rifle at his head and fired one more shot. The bullet hit below the eye and created an exit wound the size of a golf ball at the back of the head. Bone and flesh sprayed back into the corridor as the thing finally collapsed to the ground.

  The corridor was now silent and Dr Garcia, though shocked managed to stand up. She wanted to know what was going on and where everybody was. Looking back the secondary corridor was the only route likely to be of use to her. The elevator was smashed and the last thing she wanted to do was to get stuck in it when things like that infected man were moving around trying to kill her. She pulled the magazine out of the rifle, finding just a single bullet remaining. Sliding it back into the gun she looked around for any more ammunition or weapons on the bodies.

  As she moved she noticed one of the bodies was moving, its hand was reaching out, trying to grab at her. A scream escaped her throat as fear gripped her. She stumbled backwards only to spot movement coming from the damaged room. Lifting the rifle up, she aimed it carefully. A hand appeared, followed quickly by two heads. As the things emerged more hands appeared. There must be a number of them in the room she thought, and she had just the one bullet.

  She moved towards the airlock door system that led to the upper stairwell. It was her only chance to avoid them. The door was already open, though it looked suspiciously like it had been forced. Lowering the rifle she moved into the doorway, looking for any problems. Along the wall and floor were streaks of blood, as though somebody had been dragged as they bled. The airlock system was smashed open and clear, leading directly out into the staircase. Moving up the stairs she followed the blood trail, her heart rate racing ahead. As she approached the last few steps she paused, waiting and listening for what might lie ahead. There was no sound, though like the corridor the place looked ramshackle and rundown. Taking a deep breath she moved up the last few steps and turned the corner. The door was shut and locked.

  For a moment she panicked, thinking she was trapped between the door and creatures. Reaching out to the door she tried the handle and found to her relief that it was unlocked. Breathing a sigh of relief she moved inside quickly and turned back to shut the door. Coming up the stairs were half a dozen of the infected, perhaps more. Slamming the door she pulled the catch that pulled two sturdy reinforced bars across it. It should be secure, at least for a while.

  Safe for the moment she turned around and entered the control room expecting to find Dr Murphy and the rest trying to resolve whatever meltdown scenario was currently going on. The sight that greeted her was shocking. The bodies of technicians, guards and others littered the floor. The power was off or at least most of the lights and equipment weren’t running. Nearly all the computer screens were smashed or lying on the floor. Blood seemed to be everywhere and yet not a single living person appeared to be around. There was a foul stench in the air, a gangrenous stink that reminded her of a long rotting carcass.

  She crept forwards as slowly and quietly as she could, the sound of her damaged Hazmat suit now seemingly to creak at every movement of her body. Several sets of data and power cables hung from the ceiling and scorch marks nearby signalled the use of stun grenades. A screen was flashing in the corner of the room and it looked like the only working terminal in the building. Scanning the area carefully as she moved, she headed in its direction. Sparks flashed from damaged electronics and the main viewscreen, that she’d been looking at earlier with Dr Murphy, was on the floor in pieces.

  “Dr Murphy,” she gasped, “where is he?”

  Most of the bodies seemed to be general staff and security personnel. Perhaps he’d escaped she thought, or he could be in another part of the building. Her attention returned to the terminal, if she could access the system she might be able to find out what had happened. Moving up to the terminal she was relieved to see it was still active and showed two viable connections. Checking over her shoulder she was about to log in to the system when she spotted the date and time.

  “Holy shit!” she exclaimed.

  She’d been in the corridor a lot longer than she thought. Almost fifty hours! No wonder she was so parched, she needed food and water, and fast. Shaking her head she logged in using her maximum-security pass and waited. After what seemed like an age it was authenticated and she gained access to what was still running in the centre. With a few clicks she checked on the status of the research centre’s facilities. A page of icons and figures popped up, the majority of which were showing red. She ran her hand down the page, examining the data.

  “Shit, shit, shit!” she swore.

  Only two of the servers were still running and the second one was hitting read errors on its data stores, presumably from damage sustained in the attacks. The security network was down and therefore so was the secure entry point to the main facility building. The perimeter security facilities showed as offline, but that could mean they were either damaged or had been intentionally disabled. The emergency stairwell to the rooftop was blocked or damaged but apparently the main elevator was still online. She put in her secure code and accessed the internal camera feed. More of the video points were offline but there were still six cameras showing as online and transmitting.

  Dr Garcia clicked on the first one, it popped up on the screen in a separate window, there was nothing but static. Either the camera was blocked or there was a problem with the connection. The second and third cameras were not much better. She sighed as she clicked on the fourth and fifth, expecting nothing. The windows lit up giving her a view of the foyer and an external feed from the building. She slumped back into her chair at the view. The foyer was in a worse state than the room she was in now. There were several bodies slumped down and at least a dozen blood trails leading outside into the snow. The doors were smashed and there was broken glass and equipment everywhere.

  She clicked on the fifth camera, making it full screen to get a better view outside. As usual, there was snow everywhere. The camera was ultra wide angle and showed both part of the outside of the building and also the access road to the security gate. There were vehicle markings where it looked like a number of vehicles had passed in the last
day.

  Off to the side of the screen was a large vehicle. She double clicked on it to zoom in. The screen blurred for a moment as the camera adjusted and then it focused on the subject. It was a military truck, though it was on its side and from what she could make out there were at least three bodies nearby. The bodies looked like they were wearing military camouflage.

  Dr Garcia reduced the size of the screen and examined the sixth and final camera. The view it displayed made her heart race uncontrollably. The camera was in the corridor opposite from the room she was in and led directly to the elevator and emergency stairwell. In the space were scores of people, all with the same undead look as those below. They must have been trying to get out of the building and had been stuck in that area. They didn’t seem to be doing anything, just wandering around and touching the walls and lift, presumably trying to work out how to get out. She deduced that only a number of them had managed to get to the foyer using the elevator, probably falling against it or hitting the correct button by mistake. Either way, it meant there were a number of these zombie-like things blocking her route.

  She hit a key and brought up a plan of the building. The corridor was definitely now the only route out of the building for her, as the secondary stairwell was blocked by debris and still on fire. Her only other option was to go back down the stairwell to where she’d woken up. That was pointless though as it was a sealed environment with no way out.

  A window popped up, it stated it was an emergency call from Dr Murphy. She hit the button, activating a remote video conference. A window appeared showing the doctor and several other people in a vehicle.

  “Dr Murphy?” asked a bewildered Dr Garcia.