Then the tide had turned once more. The extra men mowed down the zombies, leaving a clear path to fire into the hangar. There were so many bullets flying around, that the four of them on the 5-ton, didn’t have to shoot the zombies. Anytime one managed to get its ugly, rotting head above the sidewall, it would take two or three rounds and fall away.
Neil crawled over to Sadie and sheltered her with his body; he felt as though he wasn’t good for anything else.
Then came the explosion.
“Jillybean!” Neil shouted with joy.
“Are you sure it’s her?” Sadie asked, not daring to hope.
Neil popped his head up for a flash, just as a coil of black smoke rose up a few miles to the east. “It’s her. Explosions and fire, coming in the nick of time, who else could it be?”
They were indeed saved for the moment. The River King’s men stopped shooting and to everyone’s joy they took their shot-up Humvees and raced away. The joy did not last.
Without the River King’s men to distract them, the zombies focused squarely on the remaining renegades. There were only six left alive. On one 5-ton truck were Neil, Sadie, Deanna and Captain Grey; on another were Norman and Salvatore—the first was bloodied and the second looked like he’d been crying.
All around them were countless zombies.
They came on, uncaring of the death dealt out from above. They were slow and stupid, and Neil was sickened by the monotony of slaying them. “Fish in a barrel,” he said. The deaths were easy, and yet each zombie that fell back with their brain shot out meant the renegades were that much closer to losing the battle. It meant they had one less bullet and it meant that the mounds of corpses was that much higher and the humans that much easier to get to.
“We’re running out of ammo!” Salvatore screamed over the moans and the shooting.
“So are we,” Neil yelled back. The crate of magazines was now three-quarters empty. At the rate they were going through ammo, it meant they had less than ten minutes left.
Salvatore’s situation was dire. “I’m out!” He cried a minute later. Norman gave him a look, but kept firing. “Give me some fucking ammo, man!” Salvatore practically shrieked.
“No,” Norman said, pointing his gun Sal’s way. “It’s not my fault you can’t shoot for shit.” The look on his face was altogether pitiless. Sal turned from it, his face a blank horror.
Neil saw this play out and was stirred enough to glance down at their remaining ammo—a dozen or so magazines and clips. Neil hesitated.
Captain Grey mistook the meaning of the hesitation. “Don’t try to throw the ammo left-handed, Neil. You’ll only waste it. Give them to me.” He bent and grabbed three of the magazines.
“Wait,” Neil said, grabbing his arm. “Don’t. Look at the trouble we’re in.” He pointed his pistol at the surging throngs of the undead. They filled the hangar and there were more outside. Their numbers were uncountable, while the ammo was nearly gone.
“Do unto others, Neil,” the captain intoned. “If that was you over there, wouldn’t you want me to share?” Neil couldn’t refute the question and reluctantly stepped back and watched Grey chuck the first magazine. It wasn’t like throwing a baseball or a Frisbee, it was somewhat like throwing a combination of both and his first attempt curved right of Salvatore and came up a few feet short. The man could’ve reached out to snag it but he kept his arms in close to his chest.
The magazine bounced off a zombie’s head, right in front of him. “Damn it!” Grey cursed. “You got to try or I won’t throw another.”
“Just get it to me, please.”
Grey tried again, this time with more strength. Trying to make sure he didn’t make the same mistake, he almost overthrew. Salvatore leapt up and knocked the mag out of the sky. He scrambled and then slammed it into his rifle and shot a pair of zombies that had made it over the sidewall. This reminded Neil of his own duty and as Grey threw the last magazine, Neil ran to the front of the truck and emptied his gun trying to hold back the horde.
“I got this,” Grey said, killing three of them in quick succession. When they fell back, they didn’t fall far—the mound was almost as high as the side of the big truck. Grey didn’t seem too worked up over the situation. “Don’t you feel better about yourself? Giving to those less fortunate?”
Neil glanced over at the other truck and saw Salvatore already reloading the second magazine. “Less fortunate? How am I any better off than them?”
“You got me on your side,” Grey said, with a wink. He opened his mouth to say more, but Salvatore began to scream. The other truck was being overwhelmed; there were zombies in the bed with the two men and Sal was being chewed on.
Quick as lightning Grey shouldered his M4, peered down the scope and began killing the zombies on the other truck. Ten shots were enough to make a temporary difference. For Salvatore the problem was permanent; he’d been bitten. No matter what he’d be dead in a few hours.
“This is your fault!” he screamed at Norman. The big man only stared back, breathing hard, his gun at the ready. “Don’t worry, Norm, I won’t shoot you. That would be too good for you.”
“Hey,” Norman said, gesturing with his chin behind Sal. “Watch your six.” The zombies were re-mounting their assault and already three were crawling into the truck bed.
“No,” Salvatore said in a whisper that was somehow heard throughout the hangar.
“What do you mean no?” Norman demanded.
Salvatore touched the wound at his neck and showed Norman the blood. “I’m done for. And it’s your fault. And you’re going to pay.” He turned away from Norman to stare at the sea of zombies, as he did, his hands pulled the full magazine out from the lower receiver of his weapon and chucked it at the stiffs.
“What the fuck?” Norman raged. On Neil’s truck, Sadie and Deanna paused to watch the spectacle.
From his front pants pocket, Salvatore dug out his last bullet, slid it into the chamber, charged the gun and put the barrel to his temple. He was going to shoot himself and allow Norman to be swallowed up by the horde.
Norman had other plans; he shot Sal first, putting a hole in his back, low down. Guts and blood blew out the front of the Salvatore’s belly. He went down on his hands and knees, screaming in pain.
“Fuck you,” Norman said to him as the zombies attacked the helpless man. Norman then climbed up onto the cab and went back to the task of staying alive for a few more minutes.
Everyone on Neil’s truck was mesmerized by the scene, everyone but Grey. “Keep shooting, damn it!” he ordered.
Just then, a black truck slid into view, coasting along the tarmac in front of the hangars. It was going slower and slower and eventually stopped so that only the back bumper could be seen.
“That was Jillybean,” Grey said. He had scoped the truck with his M4. “She’s driving with a stick.”
Sadie leaned as far as she could over the side of the 5-ton, her right ear dangerously close to the outstretched arms of the zombies. “I can’t see anything. What do you think she’s going to do?”
Grey shrugged and looked around at the hundreds of zombies. “I don’t think there’s anything she can do. She’d need a nuclear bomb to clear out this many stiffs. Deanna, look out.” The woman glanced back to see zombies clearing the sidewall. Grey fired into them, sending blood and oatmeal-like brains flying.
When it was safe, he tried to give her his usual confident smile; it came out strained with his teeth grit together and the lines at the corner of his eyes pronounced. He was scared, which meant Neil should’ve been doubly so…and he was. Jillybean had only a minute or two in order to concoct some fabulous plan that would rid them of hundreds of zombies.
It wasn’t possible. That was the scary truth and there are too many scary truths floating around in Neil’s head to be considered just then. Their ammo situation was one of these. Sadie ran to the crate to grab a clip for her pistol and stood over it blinking, her lips moving, making soundless words.
>
“What is it? Neil asked.
She held up the gun to him. “I’m out. We don’t have any more bullets left for it. What’s that mean?”
It meant Neil had to save two bullets; one for him and one for her. He paused in his battle to jack the slide back. A hunk of metal leapt up into the air. He tried to catch it like Grey would’ve, but his shoulder limited him and it clinked on the bed. Embarrassed, he picked it up and held it out to her.
“But…but there’s still Jillybean,” she protested. “She’ll, you know, save us, right?” She always had before and so there was hope. It felt like the hope of traipsing through a mine field without getting blown up. It felt like hope balanced on a razors edge— it was the hope of fools and yet, they had nothing else.
“She’ll pull through,” Neil said. He forced the most artless, plasticine smile onto his face. It was so fake that it was a lie all by itself. Sadie chose to believe it, and really what was her alternative? It was that or the truth: that their last bullet would be fired in seconds and they would have to either resort to suicide or succumb to the foulest death imaginable.
“Here,” he said, holding out his gun to her. “I can’t shoot left-handed anyways. You might as well put it to good use.” They exchanged guns. Neil took hers, with its single bullet and wondered when was going to be the right time to stick the barrel of it in his mouth. Was it when the others were down to their last bullets as well? Was that the polite thing to do? It certainly didn’t feel like the heroic thing to do.
Neil felt far from heroic. The others were shooting and fighting to live while he was just standing there. What would Grey do if he was out of ammo and wounded? Would he just stand there like an idiot and wait for the inevitable? Would he wait for a seven-year-old to try something that would, in all likelihood, end up getting her killed? Or would he do something substantial? Something that would help his friends?
Deanna picked out the last magazine from the crate. Thirty bullets left. They had less than a minute.
“Grey would do more,” Neil concluded, realizing he had only one role left in his life and it wasn’t going to be as a bystander or a spectator to the deaths of his friends. He took a great breath and yelled above the din, “Hold your fire.”
The three who had a chance at life stopped to stare at him. Sadie was mouthing words but Neil couldn’t hear. He should’ve been afraid, but he wasn’t. His fear had melted out of him at his decision. At least it will be quick, he said to himself.
He jumped up on the roof of the cab so that every zombie in the hangar could see him. There came a pause, one that was filled with expectation from everyone including the undead. Before jumping into the throng, he turned to his friends. “They’re going to rush at me and be distracted. Try to find a way through.”
“What are you doing?” Sadie demanded.
There was no time for an explanation, just as there was no time for a rescue. Neil screamed his battle cry so that it echoed along the steel walls of the hangar and then he leapt as far out as possible to land among the undead.
He needed to buy his friends time and so he flailed and kicked with everything he had, but they were like piranhas. The dead raced to engulf him. Their mouths were everywhere and the pain was sharp; he was somehow able to ignore it, at first. Pain was secondary; he only cared about breathing and holding his head up long enough to keep the beasts focused on him. There were teeth on his back and his arm and on his face. He felt them rip into his neck and tear out his hair.
Quickly, the pain grew beyond his ability to control; it began to overwhelm him and to drive him insane. He bucked like mad and began to scream uncontrollably, which meant it was time. He fought his left hand upwards so he could put a bullet into his brain and end the misery. That was when he saw his heroics had been for nothing.
Grey had led Deanna and Sadie from the truck in all the confusion Neil had wrought but there were simply too many zombies. They had not got far before they were surrounded, firing outward in a tight circle. Neil screamed again this time not simply because of the pain but also in frustration and despair.
He tried again to get his hand up, desperate to end the misery, but there was a human leach dangling by its teeth from his wrist and Neil couldn’t get the gun around far enough. With all his strength, he twisted his wrist all he could and strained to stretch his neck long enough so that when he pulled the trigger the bullet would take him away. Unfortunately, no matter what he tried, the angle didn’t look as though the bullet would catch him clean in the head.
But then the pain was too great and he couldn’t take a second longer of it; he pulled the trigger with only one hope remaining, the hope of dying. The gun went off like an explosion, turning the sky endlessly white.
Epilogue
Sadie Walcott
They were surrounded. Her gun clicked empty. It was the most horrifying sound she had ever heard in her life.
It was her cue to exit stage right. She had fought the good fight and now it was time to take the bullet train to heaven. She dug in her pocket for the last bullet, the one Neil had given her, and all the while, tears streamed down her face.
Neil was gone, buried under the horde. He had given them a chance but it had been slim to begin with and, perhaps because they had hesitated when he had shown his true heroic colors, the chance had turned to nothing. Grey had led them into the crowd of undead, racing as fast as he dared, but the zombies had turned too quickly.
They were only a few feet away from the hangar doors when the zombies trapped them. Their guns began to blaze but it was hopeless.
And now, she was out of ammunition all save for the last bullet. It slipped into the chamber with graceful finality. She let the slide snap closed and said, “I’m out. I only got one left.”
Next to her Deanna was digging in her own pocket. “Me too,” she said quickly, as if afraid she were going to be left behind for something important. Grey was still firing, holding back the zombies, but barely.
He wasn’t one to go down easily and when Deanna stuck the pistol under her chin, he yelled, “Wait…look!” For a brief second, he took a hand off the M4 and pointed out past the hangar doors. Jillybean had finally put her last-minute plan into action. The little girl had done something and was now running, dodging in and out of the zombies that were on the airstrip between her and her truck.
Sadie traced Jillybean’s steps back the way she had come and there was only one thing in that direction: the fuel truck. “You don’t think she…”
An explosion that practically blinded her with its brilliance, sucked the air from her lungs and then threw her back to land among the flailing arms of the zombies. The little girl had blown up the fuel truck. It went up like a bomb, a tremendous bomb, one that rivaled a nuclear explosion. Flaming chunks of metal were sent flying in every direction and the pillar of fire rose up in the air as though it would stretch all the way to heaven.
Sadie gaped at it and she wasn’t the only one; a thousand zombies stared upwards with blank eyes and blank minds, their mouths hanging open, drooling. They were transfixed by the sight and for the moment they were heedless of everything else.
The explosion had stunned her and she couldn’t think beyond the fire, but then Grey was there, standing over her. “Sadie,” he whispered. “We can go now.” The zombies were transfixed by the sight and for the moment they were heedless of everything else.
Grey helped her up, and, along with Deanna, they slipped unseen among the horde. They resisted the urge to run; they walked calmly until there was nothing between them and Jillybean and her black truck.
The little girl looked concerned. “Where’s Neil?” she asked in her soft voice. Before anyone could answer, she answered herself, “Who cares? I saved these ones, didn’t I? I’m still the hero.”
The question followed by the odd statement, combined with their emotions, rendered the other three practically mute. Grey’s eyes were watering, and Deanna was swallowing, as though she were choking on a
pinecone. Only Sadie was able to squeak out an answer.
“Neil was very brave, honey, but I’m afraid he’s…” Sadie couldn’t bring herself to finish the sentence. She couldn’t bring herself to face reality and, it seemed, neither could Jillybean. She pointed into the zombie mass and said, “Oh, there he is.” She sounded slightly disappointed.
Sadie turned, expecting to see a smallish zombie, but instead saw the bloody mess of a man. He came limping out of the horde. It was Neil, streaming blood and looking like he’d been bitten in a hundred places. Her soul erupted in joy. Neil was still alive! When he was beyond the zombies, she rushed at him and crushed herself into his one-armed embrace.
“Ow,” he said with a little whimper.
“Sorry,” she whispered, wiping tears away with the sleeve of her shirt. “Are you hurt bad?”
Captain Grey pointed out that there wasn’t time for an adequate answer. “The fire is dying lower. We should get out of here.”
The five of them crammed into the truck Jillybean had provided. She was in the backseat with Sadie and Neil, wearing an odd look. She seemed disgusted by Neil’s bloody appearance.
“You ok? Are we still sisters?” Sadie asked, holding out her hand, pinky extended to the little girl, looking for their customary ‘pinky swear.’
Jillybean eyed the pinky, her lip curled. “I’m not going to touch that so you can put it away.”
The little girl was being exceptionally rude and Sadie opened her mouth to snap at her, but paused, and then gradually closed her lips. Jillybean had changed. There were brooding, dark circles under her eyes and a tic working in one cheek. She was gaunt, with a haunted look about her, and yet there was steel in her as well, but it wasn’t an admirable thing. It was sinister and cold.
“You okay?” Sadie asked.
Jillybean eyed her close, looking for a motive for the question. “I’m not hurt, if that’s what you mean.”
Grey cleared his throat. He was pelting away from the air strip at top speed. “Maybe this isn’t the time for questions,” he said. “Maybe this is a time for rest.” He gave Sadie a quick look in the rearview mirror suggesting that she not press the little girl anymore.
The Undead World (Book 5): The Apocalypse Renegades Page 36
