Machines of the Dead

by David Bernstein

“I’ll save us some Taser charges,” Zaun said, and climbed down the ladder. Three zombies waited below, their dried blood-covered fingers inches from his sneakers. He pulled out his sword and began hacking off hands and arms. The zombies didn’t flinch, their vacant expressions remaining the same. Left with only stumps for arms, they continued to reach up, trying to get at Zaun.

  Jack felt his blood go cold at the sight.

  Able to descend two more rungs, Zaun began stabbing the undead in their heads, each one dropping to the ground after doing so. As the other zombies arrived, standing on the bodies of their downed brethren, Zaun sliced off limbs and pierced skulls. With two zombies remaining, he sunk the sword’s blade into the head of a massive sized corpse. The blade went in halfway and the big guy collapsed, taking the sword with him, Zaun, apparently, unable to hold on.

  With one zombie left, an extremely slow one due to its missing legs, Zaun pulled out his Taser and shot the undead thing. He dropped to the ground and retrieved his sword while Jack and Maria descended the ladder.

  From there, the group worked its way up the alley, stopping just short of the street. Jack peered around the corner. Three zombies were shambling up the street, facing away from him, but to his right, and coming his way was a lone zombie wearing a crimson-stained mechanic’s outfit.

  He stepped back into the alley. “One’s coming our way.”

  Zaun pulled out his sword. The Mr. Fix-It zombie came around the corner and Zaun made quick work of it, chopping off its head in one fluid motion.

  Jack peered around the corner again, toward 4th Avenue, and saw three more undead coming up the street toward him. He ducked back, unsure if they noticed him. Either way, the situation wasn’t a good one. The area was still swarming with undead. Maybe they should’ve checked the street out front, made sure it had cleared out somewhat. But that didn’t matter now. They were running low on food and needed to leave. It might take weeks before the area was like it had been when they first arrived. But then again the undead might never leave, at least not without a reason. A distraction would’ve been nice. Maybe they should’ve climbed to the roof and tossed a few flashbang’s to another street, get the undead heading in the opposite direction of where they were going. Jack shook his head. Too late now.

  “Three coming our way,” he said. “Not sure if they saw me.”

  “I don’t like this,” Maria said, echoing Jack’s thoughts. “There’s still too many undead here.”

  “Why haven’t they left?” Zaun asked.

  “No idea,” Jack said. “We probably just didn’t give them enough time to wander off. The city is vacant. We’re what’s for dinner around here.”

  Two zombies came around the corner.

  “Guess they saw you,” Zaun said. He sliced the head off one, then jabbed the other through the eye—the corpse still wearing its glasses. The third zombie approached and fell to the ground as it stumbled over its downed brethren. Zaun stepped up and pierced its brain with his gore-caked sword.

  Jack checked around the corner again, looking both ways, and saw more undead. “Four more heading our way, but from the left.”

  “Shit,” Maria mumbled.

  “Don’t think they saw me.”

  “We have to make a run for the warehouse,” Zaun said.

  Jack knew his friend was right. Working their way stealthily wasn’t going to happen. They were going to have to make a beeline to the operations center. Outrunning the undead for a short distance wasn’t going to be a problem, but if they couldn’t get into the place they’d have to hoof it somewhere else. The backpacks would eventually slow them down, becoming a burden, and there was no telling how long until they found a place to not only hole up in, but also that would keep the undead out. They could have hundreds of zombies on their trail within minutes. It was a gamble, but with no other options, the choice was made.

  “Staying here is suicide,” Maria said, holding her M4 close to her chest. “Let’s go for it.”

  “Remember,” Jack told them, “we might have to fight to get in if Reynolds has men inside.”

  “Let’s hope not,” Maria answered.

  Zaun sheathed his sword and readied his M4.

  Jack cocked his shotgun and led the way out of the alley.

  They ran down the street, blasting a few zombies that were in their way, the gunshots like dinner bells to the undead.

  Getting to 4th Avenue, Jack saw undead everywhere, milling about like a crowd departing a concert in the park. The things seemed to gain life when they saw the fresh bags of meat running and gunning.

  Jack fired at an approaching zombie, disintegrating half its head. He heard gunfire from the others, seeing zombies’ heads jolt back, then fall to the ground.

  They moved in a tight unit down the street, then across the parking lot of the warehouse, taking out undead after undead.

  “Reloading,” Maria yelled, and Jack and Zaun took up covering her side.

  With his shotgun empty, Jack used his M4 and began firing, sending bullets into brains and dropping walking corpses.

  The warehouse parking lots were mostly void of zombies, giving the group a short break from shooting.

  Hurrying alongside one of the parked cars, and almost to the building, a zombie wearing a leather biker’s jacket and sporting a “ZZ Top” type beard came from around the side of the building. Jack aimed, sending a round from his M4 into its head, splattering the wall with fragments of skull and pieces of brain matter.

  Making it to the entrance, he yanked on the handle, but the door wouldn’t open. The thing was made of metal and felt pretty solid. As the zombies drew nearer, stumbling around parked cars and bumping into each other, Zaun and Maria took up firing, giving Jack time to work.

  Slinging his M4 over his shoulder, he loaded a few shells into the Mossberg, cocked a round and blasted the door’s lock. The door rattled loudly, seeming to come loose. Jack fired again, holding the barrel close to the cylinder, turning the metal into a twisted mess. He pushed against the door and saw that it was loose. Tapping Zaun on the shoulder, Jack motioned for him to help with the door.

  From the corner of his eye, Jack saw another zombie come from around the corner of the building. The thing looked like it had been on fire. Nothing but strips of flesh and bone were showing from the waist down, its upper body intact. It walked with severe difficulty, leaning against the wall for support. Jack thought he could’ve pushed it over with a finger and its legs would’ve fallen apart. Pulling out his Sig Sauer, he put a bullet in its head, dropping it quickly.

  “Hurry up,” Maria yelled, her rate of fire increasing.

  Finally, the door flew open. Relief fell over Jack as he and the others rushed into the faux waiting area of the warehouse. He headed over to the security door at the back of the room and told the others to barricade the entrance.

  Using the keycard, he had the door unlocked in seconds and opened it a crack. Gunfire rang out. Bullets littered the area around him, pinging off the metal door and frame.

  “We’re going to have to fight our way inside,” he told the others, standing with his back to the wall.

  Zaun and Maria pushed the couch in front of the door just as it boomed and rattled, the undead pushing against it to get in.

  “Do something, Jack,” Maria yelled.

  He peeked through the crack in the doorway and was able to see most of the large room beyond. Scanning the area, he saw a man pop up from behind the desk and fire a few rounds from a machine gun, cascading the door with bullets. Jack jumped back to the side as a bullet made its way through the crack.

  “We have to do something,” Maria said, her voice straining. “We can’t hold them much longer.

  “From what I can tell, there’s only one man inside.”

  The front door jolted open a couple inches, pushing the couch backwards. Undead arms and hands slid through the opening. Zaun grunted as he tried shoving the couch back, but the thing wouldn’t move. The metal door continued its thund
erous pounding.

  “Jack,” Maria pleaded. “Hurry up.”

  Desperate, Jack threw open the security door, and got out of the way as gunfire rang out. Luckily, Maria and Zaun were off to the right and out of the path of the bullets.

  “Jack,” Zaun yelled, his voice harsh. “We’re about to be overrun.”

  Jack waved his hand in front of the doorway before quickly pulling it back. A three round burst from the lone guard followed. He poked his head out, took view of the overturned desk, then ducked back inside as the man fired again.

  Placing his M4 against the wall, he pulled out two flashbangs. Pulling the pin of one, he tossed it into the room. Gunfire pinged off the doorframe. He heard the grenade explode, hoping he had judged the distance correctly. He waved his arm in the doorway again, but there was no return fire this time. Pulling the pin on the other flashbang, he tossed it at his target, watching it sail through the air. A pair of legs was showing from the side of the desk. The man was down. Maybe hurt. The second flashbang landed right near the guy’s feet. Jack ducked back inside just before the explosion, then yelled to the others that it was time to go.

  He stepped into the room, scanning the area for other gunman, then kept his sights trained on the overturned desk, seeing the man’s legs moving.

  He heard the couch slide across the floor, its wooden legs screeching as if scared to death. The sound of shuffling shoes echoed from within the room, sounding like a herd of buffalo. Maria and Zaun appeared at his side, telling him they needed to move.

  With no time to shut the door, Jack pointed to where the downed man was and the group moved forward, guns trained on the area.

  Jack approached the area from the right side, Maria from straight ahead, and Zaun from the left.

  The man’s legs disappeared as he pulled his feet in. Shit, Jack thought. The guy was getting his senses back.

  As the group approached the desk, the guard popped up from behind it. He looked disoriented, his eyes rapidly blinking. He started firing wildly. The others returned fire, unleashing a stream of bullets that chewed up the man’s face, dropping him cold.

  Turning, Jack saw the undead had entered the warehouse and were spreading out like anxious Black Friday shoppers told not to run.

  Jack and the others sprinted to the end of the room where the other security door was located. They made it with a small amount of time to spare, the slow undead still working their way around desks and chairs.

  Jack slid the card through the card reader and entered the code. The red light went out and the green one came to life. He punched in the code and heard the door’s familiar click. Grabbing the handle, he pushed open the door only to be met with a gun to his face.

  Chapter 27

  Guard Ryan Kellogg couldn’t believe it. The traitors were alive. And more than that, they looked okay, which was more than he could say for himself. Life just wasn’t fair, but then who said it would be? He laughed when Reynolds had told him and Jacobs to stay behind. Secure the warehouse, just in case. In case of what? In case those traitors tried coming back. He’d seen the zombies swarm on the apartment building shortly after the team went in. Not returning, he assumed they had all been killed. Guess he was wrong.

  With all the zombies up the street, the guy bored out of his mind, Ryan had gone outside, wanting fresh air. He had been cooped up underground for way too long. He and the others were always worried about being overwhelmed by a horde whenever they left the bunker, but not from a bite. No. Bites were curable. One blast from the EMP or a Taser and all was well. It was being ripped apart and devoured that frightened them.

  While patrolling the building’s perimeter, delighted to be breathing in fresh air, even if it was tainted with rot and a tinge of smoke from a nearby burning building, he was caught off guard when a zombie came from behind a dumpster and bit him. He’d killed the thing easily enough, sinking his knife into its head.

  When he came back inside, he had Jacobs Taser him, and didn’t have another thought about the bite until he started feeling weak later that night. Convincing himself he was just coming down with a cold, maybe the flu, he went to bed, but waking up in the morning had been difficult. All he wanted to do was sleep. His body ached and his head pounded something fierce. For some reason the tasering hadn’t taken. The bots were still alive. He’d had Jacobs zap him again and was then left in the room at the bottom of the stairs to rest. Two shots with the Taser should have done it. Mentally, he’d felt better.

  Unable to sleep, he got up and was barely able to make it to top of the stairs. If he had the flu, he had never had it this bad. He was burning up. Not caring how he looked, he’d taken off his shirt and pants, leaving only his shoes and underwear on. He was about to open the door and ask Jacobs to Taser him again when he heard the door unlock.

  He pulled his sidearm, always keeping it on him, and was glad he did when he saw Jack Warren and his band of scum. He’d used the last of his strength to draw the weapon however, feeling weaker than ever now. Holding the gun on Jack, his arm was trembling. If he could do one good, righteous thing before he died, it would be to pull the trigger and end this troublemaker’s life, but he didn’t think he even had the strength to do that.

  “You don’t look so good,” Jack said.

  He saw Zaun and the bitch traitor, Lopez, both with their weapons pointed down. He saw the undead filling up the operations center, coming his way. Then everything but Jack’s face went out of focus, the background scene nothing more than a nightmarish blend of moving gore.

  “You’re infected,” Jack went on. “We can help.”

  “Ryan,” Lopez said, “at least let us in or we’re all going to die.”

  A drop of sweat fell into his eyes. He blinked, trying hard not to waver. A blanket of exhaustion fell over him. Too weak to remain standing, his arm went limp. The gun slipped from his grasp, clacking to the floor. He stumbled backwards a few steps and fell.

  Opening his eyes, Ryan saw Jack kneeling beside him on his right, Maria on his left. They must have gotten the door closed in time. No death for the traitors, at least not at this moment. Maria was speaking to him, her words sounding as if he was underwater. He was so hot. He’d love to be in a pool of cold water. For sure his death was fast approaching. Someone would put a bullet into his skull, but hopefully before that he’d come back and get to bite one of them. No, that wasn’t right. He was a soldier. He needed to do what was right by his country. True, he was getting a nice chunk of change, or rather was getting a nice chunk of change from Reynolds, but he still loved his country. He didn’t want to see it crumble. So many dead already. He had to tell these people what had happened to him. How the taser hadn’t worked. They had to know so when Reynolds captured them, they would tell him. They were the last chance to stop the epidemic. Maybe it was already too late. The damn thing had spread so fast and was mutating. The little fuckers were smart it seemed, or as Reynolds put it: “programmed to adapt.”

  Grabbing Maria’s arm, he tried to speak, but his mouth wasn’t working properly. He could feel the slowness of his jaw, the slug-like movement of his tongue. His mouth felt like it was filled with sand. Pain exploded in his head, filling his vision with white. Death couldn’t come quick enough for Ryan Kellogg. Let the bots have his body, for when he was dead he’d no longer care.

  Chapter 28

  “He’s trying to tell us something,” Maria said.

  “Tell . . . Raaayy. . . nnoo. . . .ldsss. B . . . bots . . . stron . . . ger.”

  “What?” Zaun asked.

  “I think he said to tell Reynolds something,” Maria answered.

  Jack felt his heart sink. “The bots are stronger. He wants us to tell Reynolds the bots are stronger.”

  “What’s he talking about?” Zaun asked.

  Jack saw the man’s body stiffen for a moment, then go slack. Maria felt for a pulse.

  “He’s gone,” she said, then closed his eyes.

  “One less asshole to worry about,”
Zaun spat.

  “What are those?” Maria asked, pointing at two small marks on the dead man’s chest.

  “Looks like wounds from taser prongs,” Jack asked.

  Maria nodded. “Shit. This guy’s been tasered, and recently. Look at how fresh the wounds are.”

  Jack agreed. The marks where the prongs had attached themselves were still raw.

  “Whoa,” Zaun said, backing away. “Are you telling me this guy was tasered and he stayed infected?”

  “We can’t know for certain, but it appears so.” Maria stood.

  “You’re telling me those things are unstoppable now? That once we’re infected we’re fucked?”

  “No, she isn’t saying that,” Jack said, “but we have no idea what happened to this man. Maybe the taser charge wasn’t strong enough. Factory defect. Who knows?”

  “Are we waiting to see if he gets up?” Zaun asked. “Or should I run him through?”

  Jack and Maria moved out of the way and let Zaun destroy the corpse’s brain, using his sword.

  “Maybe he was infected right after he was tasered,” Maria suggested.

  “It’s possible,” Jack agreed, but didn’t think it likely. “If there is a new strain of bot and it’s immune to the voltage in a taser then we have to be extra careful.”

  “This just brought suck to a whole new level,” Zaun said.

  Maria nodded, staring at the corpse.

  She stripped the dead body of ammo and the group headed to the room at the bottom of the stairs. A crate containing ten MRE’s, twelve bottles of water and a first aid kit sat next to a cot.

  Using his flashlight, Jack checked the corridor that led back to the tunnel. He told the others it looked clear. Everyone put fresh clips and magazines into their weapons, grabbed the food, water, and first aid kit, then headed down the long, dark passage by flashlight.

  Reaching a security door, Jack used the keycard and entered the code. Hearing the familiar click, weapons ready, he opened the door.

  He let out a sigh of relief when no one stuck a gun in his face. The tunnel was still illuminated by the overhead lights. The group moved forward without talking, wanting to be able to hear if anyone was up ahead. Their footfalls seemed to grow louder over time, but only the stillness of the tunnel made it seem that way. Some time later, nerves on end, they came to the split in the passageway, one path leading back to the bunker, the other to some unknown location.