Ultimate Undead Collection: The Zombie Apocalypse Best Sellers Boxed Set (10 Books)

by Joe McKinney

  “Jesus!” she shouted. “Are you guys alright?”

  “I’m fine! He’s unconscious. Get him into the car!”

  I stopped, my breath burning my lungs with each draw, and looked behind me. Nothing in the store moved.

  I realized she wouldn’t be able to do it alone since Hemp was dead weight. I ran to Gem and helped her lift Hemp into the car. Then I slammed the door and went back to right the basket and pick up our strewn supplies. I would not sacrifice this stuff that we needed for self-preservation.

  Less than thirty seconds later I had the stuff in the trunk of the Ford. I jumped back into the car and fired the engine.

  “Fuck this. Let’s get back to the house.”

  Gem was slapping Hemp in the face, and not softly. He would not wake up.

  “Baby, he’s not coming to!” she said. “What happened in there?”

  “I can’t talk right now,” I said.

  And nobody said a word until we got through the gate and into the security of my house again.

  We stared at Hemp, who we’d laid on the couch.

  And we waited.

  With our guns at ready.

  Chapter 12

  Hemp didn’t wake on his own. About 65 minutes after his encounter, Gem sat on the couch beside him and shook him gently by the shoulders. His eyes fluttered open and he moaned.

  When he started to stir, Gem got quickly off the sofa, picked up her gun and held it, barrel pointed toward the floor.

  “Man. What happened? Gem, why do you have your gun?”

  We looked at him. We’d never heard the creatures speak other than in early stages and only to tell us how hungryhungryhungry they were, so we figured he was okay.

  “You got got by a zombie,” Gem said. “Sorry, but until I heard something intelligible out of you . . .”

  “I got . . . got?”

  “In the hardware store,” I said. “You went into the stock room, I started to worry, and next thing I knew you were out on the floor and I was running from a dead basketball player.”

  Hemp tried to sit up, then abandoned the idea. He put a hand to his head. “I don’t remember any of it. Just putting some things in my basket, and thinking I’d look in back for more stock.”

  “Bad move as it turns out,” I said. “We either need a buddy system rule or just to approach every situation as if one of these things is around the corner. I’m very surprised this thing got the jump on you.”

  “I have no idea how it did. I don’t remember seeing it at all. Bloody hell, I don’t even remember the stock room.”

  “How are you feeling now?” Gem asked.

  Hemp nodded. “Okay. The grogginess is going away pretty fast.”

  Gem snapped her fingers. “This is too familiar. It’s exactly what we found with the people in Cynthia’s house, stored for food. Exactly. They were out, save for a couple of them. Taylor was awake, but perhaps in a paralytic state. Flex?”

  “Come to think of it, yes. Hemp, you were out, but the problem is, you didn’t wake on your own until Gem shook you. And even that didn’t work for well over an hour.”

  Hemp looked confused. “But how? Did it strangle me, cut off my oxygen supply?”

  “Not a mark on you, buddy. Except on your elbow – a bruise. Probably from falling.”

  “I need to find out what this is.”

  I thought for a moment about the eye shine. Everyone had noticed it, and this was as good a time as any to bring it up.

  “Hemp, have you thought about the eye shine aspect of these creatures? What causes it, and what, if anything, its purpose might be?”

  “To be honest,” Hemp said, “I’ve kind of avoided verbalizing about it too much because it made no sense. But I have tossed it around in my mind, and I will need to do some tests on Jamie if I want to come up with any answers.”

  Gem realized she was still holding her gun and leaned it against the end of the sofa. Trina walked into the room and bounced on her feet a full foot in the air.

  “Bunsen is having her babies!” she shouted. “Two so far!”

  Despite the seriousness of the discussion on the floor, we all smiled at this news. Even Hemp.

  “Well, let’s go get some warm towels and see if mama needs anything!” Gem said.

  “The miracle of childbirth,” Hemp said, rubbing his face with both hands and getting unsteadily to his feet.

  Trina jumped in the air clapping her hands, and ran into the utility room where they had set up Bunsen on a large quilt. When they walked in, she was in the process of pushing out her fourth puppy. Two of the other three were already latched onto a nipple, and suckling away.

  We all watched this with smiles on our faces. This was indeed the miracle of life, and we had no idea how many things would be born over the next year, how many would die, and how many would refuse to stay dead.

  What we did know, by the time it was over, was that there were six more tiny souls on this planet than there were just a few moments ago, and it did our hearts good to see it. We let nature take its course, and Trina and the rest of us mourned to see the seventh pup come out stillborn.

  It lay there and never moved. It was born dead, and after an hour we knew it would clearly stay dead. It was the first actual confirmation that this reanimation condition did not affect the canine population.

  “They’re so wet and sticky,” said Trina.

  “Yes, they are. Don’t worry. Bunsen will get them cleaned up. We’ll help her if she’ll let us,” Gem said.

  “Aunt Gemmy, Bunsen is very nice. She’ll really like it if we help her.”

  Gem pulled Trina into her lap on the folding chair she sat on as she watched the other squirming pups searching for nipples, finding them, and drinking of their mother’s sustenance.

  Hemp stood from his chair. “I have some work to do. Flex, if you think you can handle the camera installation, I’d like to do some stuff in the lab.”

  “I’m a fuckin’ electrician, so I think I can handle some cable runs and wire connectors.”

  “Just fucking with you, old man,” Hemp said, smiling.

  “Hemp, I’m not sure about you going in there alone,” Gem said. “Not after what happened at the store.”

  “I know. We need more bodies,” said Hemp.

  “I don’t know if I’d put it like that,” I said. “Maybe we need more warm bodies.”

  “Point taken. Okay, first things first,” Hemp said. “I guess we should get the cameras up. That way we’ll have a sense of security, and that will set us at ease.”

  “And keep us alive,” added Gem. “Which sets me at great ease.”

  “Me, too,” I said. “And I already have an alarm system in the house, so I’ll just program it to chime when a door or window opens. I usually turn that off.”

  I walked over to the panel and punched the buttons, then tried the front door and a window. Beep Beep.

  “Good,” said Hemp. “Once the cameras are installed, I’d like to see if we can secure an EEG machine. I’ve got some ideas how to use it to do some testing – on Jamie, if that’s okay with you, Flex.”

  “Hey, if your tests can help her, then there’s no reason I can think of to say no. I’m sure she’d agree with us.”

  “How do you feel right now?” I asked Hemp.

  “Good. No headache, nothing. No memory of it and no effects that I can pinpoint.”

  I looked at his eyes. Bright and normal. No mist. No glow.

  “Good,” I said. I want to go out and get that EEG machine now. We never got any more guns either, so I want to grab more of them eventually, and we sure as hell need some signal flares.”

  “Hemp, if you stay with Trina, Bunsen and the babies, Flexy and I can see about getting this stuff.”

  “Okay, but if you’re looking for the EEG machine, will you know it when you see it?”

  “Will it say “EEG?” asked Gem.

  “Might say electroencephalography.”

  “Wanna write that down
?” said Gem, smiling.

  “Sure.”

  “The hospital in Gainesville is about 18 minutes away from here – eleven miles. We already know the road is pretty clear from here to there, so this shouldn’t be a bad trip, so long as we’re not ambushed or put to sleep.”

  “Or both,” Gem said. “Nothing is getting closer than a dozen feet away from me. Not if Suzi has anything to say about it.”

  “Suzi?” I smiled.

  “Suzi the Uzi.”

  “Cute. What rhymes with Daewoo?”

  “Not even sure you’re pronouncing it right,” Gem said. “You’re going to have to stick with K7.”

  “That’s no fun. You ready?”

  Gem shook her head. “Not yet.” She went to Hemp and hugged him hard. He returned her embrace, and when she pulled away, she said, “Hemp, I can tell you I love you already. You’re a good guy, and we appreciate being able to call you our friend.”

  She hugged him again and he smiled over her shoulder at me as I looked on.

  “She’s right, you know,” I said. “Something about our situation has brought us close together fast.”

  They broke the embrace and Gem kissed him on the cheek.

  Hemp blushed. “Just get the stuff and get back here. Anything goes wrong, then I want you to forget what you don’t have and just get back.”

  “I have to go stock up on ammo and hug Trina,” Gem said. “Then I’m ready. Give me three minutes, baby.”

  And she was ready in two.

  *****

  With a full stock of ammo, our walkies and a shitload of spit and vinegar, Gem and I headed out for what we hoped would be an uneventful eleven-mile drive.

  “Road looks good,” said Gem, scanning side to side, her hand gripping the K-7 mounted on the Suburban.

  We’d brought the truck to haul any equipment we might pilfer, and while it had no side windows, it was damned well protected, just as the Hummer had been. I’d topped off the gas tank with four 5-gallon cans I had stored in my shed at the house. We’d brought the cans with us in case an opportunity to refill them presented itself. Lots of the rural farms had hand-crank fuel pumps plugged into their underground tanks for fueling up their tractors and other equipment.

  “We’re already halfway there,” I said. It was now already 2:00 in the afternoon. The incident with Hemp had eaten up a good part of the day, followed by the more joyous incident with Bunsen and her new brood.

  The road took a dip up ahead. Years ago a large sinkhole had opened up in the highway; it was nearly a half mile wide, and made the news all over the country. This hole was eventually filled in and paved over, but it had left in its wake a fairly steep downhill, then a peak that most people enjoyed driving over. The kids tended to haul ass down and up, trying to get their cars airborne. If they knew what that shit did to their suspension, they’d think better, but I knew damned well I’d do the same thing if I was nineteen. Fuck yes.

  “Hold on, babydoll!” I shouted, and hit the gas. The big Suburban plunged down the hill, reaching about sixty miles per hour. I raced along the short valley, maintaining speed, and hit the uphill at sixty-five. I was pretty sure I’d get at least the front tires off the ground when I came up to the top of that hill.

  “Baby, this is fun, but you can’t see what’s over that hill – be careful!”

  And I realized she was right. Could be a wrecked car just out of sight, but I didn’t remember seeing any on the way here, and I was committed now. I kept my foot on the gas and hit the top.

  My front wheels did indeed leave the ground, and when they came down, Gem let out a rare scream and her door-mounted machine gun slammed into action, her finger hard on the trigger.

  Because they were there. A dozen of them from my quick count, staggering in the middle of the street as though they had a destination in mind, and I immediately hoped it wasn’t my place.

  I saw them only as my bumper crashed into the heads of four of them, knocking them backward and undoubtedly putting four nice dents in my bumper. As my front tires met pavement and rolled over their crumpling bodies, I could almost feel my transmission housing, rear axle and tires catch them underneath, pushing them into and grinding them along the pavement. I visualized their twisting bodies caught beneath the Suburban, scraping against asphalt, bones shattering, already-damaged faces being torn up further.

  But we also knew it wouldn’t necessarily kill them.

  We’d cleared them all and were about 300 yards away from them.

  “Pull this fucker around, Flex!” shouted Gem. She ejected the empty magazine from the K-7 and smacked another into the gun as I stopped and spun the truck around to face them.

  The others who didn’t get run down had turned toward us, as though they had gotten a whiff of us and needed to have a taste. I started driving slowly toward them to give Gem a better shot.

  I stopped about fifty feet away and said, “Wait, baby. Wait until they’re a bit closer.” I felt guilty. “Sorry for being an idiot. I thought we could use some fun.”

  Gem gawked at me. “Flexy, this crew of walking dead would’ve been here whether we were doing thirty miles per hour or seventy. Your speed is what immediately took out four of them.”

  “Thanks,” I said. “Wait … not yet. Let them get a little closer.”

  “Keep the engine running, and I’ll do that,” Gem answered.

  She spun her machine gun forward, as did I. We’d removed the side mirrors right after installing the guns, as we quickly discovered we didn’t have the full range of motion that we needed. Problem solved.

  Our eyes peeled straight ahead, our fingers rested on our respective triggers, I noticed the four I’d run over were trying to get back on their feet. Only two of them managed to stand, as the other two, a man in a tattered business suit and a woman in a police uniform, could only crawl on their elbows, the damage done by my Chevy evident.

  But the other eight zombies were making decent progress. Three of them were completely nude, and I hadn’t seen that before. It disturbed me; it just brought home that everything was gone. Their modesty, awareness, just everything they had ever known, and now it was just food that they craved.

  “I want to shoot now,” Gem said, when they were twenty feet in front of us.

  It obviously wasn’t a request. The reverberating, staccato sound of round after round exploding from Gem’s window mount machine gun explained that to me in terms that I – and possibly other guns – could understand. I joined her. We took out seven of them, their heads exploding into particles of blood, brains and skull fragments, their bodies jerking like marionette dolls until they finally fell to the ground in heaps of gore.

  But with the side mounts, there was one more son-of-a-bitch wearing an “Obama/Biden 2012” tee shirt that neither of us could hit.

  “Fucker’s in a no-kill zone,” Gem said, grabbing Suzi from the floorboard. She hefted the Uzi and tried to lean out of the window for a shot, but the Daewoo mounted on the door frame blocked her.

  “Fuck, Flex, I can’t get him.”

  And he was at the hood. And he climbed onto the hood. And now he crawled directly toward the windshield, his dead face staring at us or through us, and we were freaked out and mesmerized at the same time.

  He started mouthing the windshield, his bulbous tongue licking the smashed bugs there, trying to get to us, but unaware that the thick tempered glass wouldn’t allow it.

  I stared at the thing gnashing and sucking the glass, its nostrils flaring wide, and I turned on the windshield wipers. I know. It was dumb. This wasn’t a bug I could just wipe away.

  “Me or you,” I whispered.

  “You this time,” Gem said, completely out of typical Gem fashion.

  “Okay.”

  I opened my door and looked quickly behind the car to make sure none of them had come out from somewhere else to overwhelm us. None had. I swung the door closed and stepped to the side of the hood, my Daewoo leveled at its head. He was still pressed agains
t the windshield, and I already regretted not having side windows. I wasn’t going to accidentally blow out the windshield, that was for sure. I wished like hell that the Suburban had a gun like the Ford. I’d have to put it on Hemp’s list.

  “Here, freakshow,” I said, in a sing-song voice. “Come on, you ugly fuck, I’m right here.”

  This one was an older man, thick in the middle, but still muscular. He was wearing Nike tennis shoes, which were probably what helped him gain enough purchase to climb up on the hood in the first place.

  “You’re scaring my woman, you asshole!” I finally yelled, and though my words likely had no affect, he finally looked directly at me.

  And his eyes captured my attention. Even here, in the bright daylight, I could see a slight fog over them, yet they didn’t appear obscured. I swore I could see this fog almost misting off them, like a low-hanging cloud on a field of grass. I shook it off and focused on the sight of my weapon.

  He quit trying to bite through the glass. He started to crawl sideways across the hood toward me, and I backed up two steps.

  My eyes on him, I also took some quick glances at the crawlers and walkers down the street. They were clearly hurting, for their progress was nowhere near as fast as their zombie counterparts. But they were coming. Like mosquitoes to a bug zapper.

  And then I was suddenly very tired of this shit. I put the K-7 directly to the side of the thing’s skull, and as its arm rose jerkily up to grab the gun, I blew all awareness – and half of its brain – clean out of its ugly fucking head. The blood and skull frags splattered onto the windshield, but it didn’t crack or shatter. Gem reached over and hit the washer and wipers. Now the glass was smeared with bloody streaks until about the fifth swipe – then it cleared enough that I wouldn’t have to clean it before driving.

  But now I had a dead, bloody zombie sprawled on my hood like some kind of fucked up, morbid prize hunter. I might as well have mounted his destroyed head as a hood ornament.

  I looked through the window and Gem shrugged and gave me a nervous smile. Then she did a little “pushing” motion with her hands, like I should get this thing off there.