“I’m not waiting until I get shot. Ocho, get your men and go check it out. Just keep your head low and you’ll be fine.”
Ocho led two men toward the front yard of the nearest house, praying that he wouldn’t be shot before he could get to the bushes near the house. Once behind the bushes, he motioned for the other two to follow him. He leapt from the bushes and quickly sprinted around the corner of the house and nearly collided with a shambler only a few feet in front of him. It was a nasty zombie. The lower half of its jaw had been torn off, and its chest was ripped open, exposing organs and fragments of ribcage. Ocho recoiled, fighting back his urge to vomit from the stench emitting from it. He recovered himself, raised his M16, and fired a shot that punched a hole neatly through the shambler’s right eye socket. As it fell, the rest of the soldiers began slamming their weapons into the back of its head until there was nothing left but a bloody pulp.
They made their way behind the house into the backyard and stood frozen in place. There were shamblers everywhere. Private Ocho did a quick count and counted a baker’s dozen. Beyond them, he noticed several more heading in the opposite direction.
“I thought we already killed all these bastards. Where do they keep coming from?” asked Private Ocho.
Nobody answered him. They just stood there realizing they were in deep trouble. A couple more were spotted trying to break through a patio door to one of the houses. He saw the curtain open and close, alerting him to the fact there were survivors hiding inside the house.
Sergeant Coy joined him by his side and saw what they were staring at. “That explains the gunfire,” he said. “We need to clear this area and quickly.”
They fired at the horde with every three to four rounds finding its mark. Private Ocho led his men toward the shamblers that had broken away from the main group.
Several of the shots hit the ground near the feet of the shamblers. They were gaining ground on the soldiers.
“Keep firing!” ordered Sergeant Coy. “Don’t let them get any closer!” He watched, grinding his teeth as another half-dozen shamblers appeared from around the house in front of them. “I feel like I’m playing some damn video game!”
Ocho led his two men around another house and toward the street where several more shamblers had ventured.
“Hey! Hey!” he yelled as loud as he could manage, waving his arms and M16 over his head. “Over here!”
The shamblers halted and awkwardly turned, eyes falling on Private Ocho. With mouths wide opened, the shamblers slowly made their way toward him.
“That’s right! Come get your lunch!”
The three soldiers knelt down, pulling their rifles close to their shoulders. They waited until the shamblers came into their range before opening fire on them. The first bullet fired took down the lead shambler. It fell into a line of tall, flowering plants and was lost to sight except for its feet.
Private Ocho grinned behind his sights and fired another round. It went slightly askew punching a hole through the neck of a shambler, bringing it to the ground. Its body was still, but the head still moved from left to right, snapping its teeth at the air.
The rest of the shamblers were slowly closing the gap between them and the other soldiers. That was fine for Private Ocho. The closer they came into range, the more accurate his shots would be. He drew a bead on the closest shambler and pulled the trigger. He watched as the shambler fell. Soon they had polished off the rest of the horde. Private Ocho stood back up. He turned to head back toward the others. To his dismay, their truck was surrounded by more shamblers.
“You’ve got to be kidding me!”
Sergeant Coy came into view with the rest of the men rapidly taking the zombies off of their feet. They moaned in frustration as the soldiers rounded them into a small herd.
“Watch your line of fire!” yelled Sergeant Coy. “Let the bastards have it!”
They opened fire and continued to fire until every last stinking zombie had met its demise.
“All right, that wasn’t as bad as I thought it would be,” said Sergeant Coy. He turned to his men. “Regretfully, our orders are to make sure there aren’t any survivors left in the area. I know at least one house has people hiding it. We have no choice, men; we have to go clear it. They could become zombies eventually. I’d rather deal with them before that happens. Come on; let’s go get it over and done with.”
Chapter Twenty-Six
Carol was racing down the backroads. All she could focus on was getting Stanley and his kids out of the area to safety. She was trying to remain strong. She had just left behind several friends at the park. Some for which she wasn’t sure they were dead or not. They sat in the truck silently. Stanley was reliving the events with his brother who had been attacked by the zombie version of his daughter. He kept playing it over and over in his head. Could I have saved my brother? He knew if he could have gone back in time, he could have made things different, perhaps he wouldn’t have let his brother open the door. He looked at Carol. He could tell she was fighting her own demons. He figured she was blaming herself because she had been left behind to watch his children. He was grateful she had stayed behind with them. Seeing their uncle being murdered wasn’t something they needed to witness first hand.
“Do you want to say anything?” he finally asked her, trying to free his mind from the torture.
She didn’t respond. She was angry at him. Instead, she kept focused on the road. The last thing she wanted at the moment was to get into a confrontation with him.
“We should talk about this, Carol. This situation affects the both of us.”
She turned to look at him for a second, and then turned her attention back to the road. Her face was playing a range of regret and anger. “Go to hell,” she finally said.
“Well, I guess I deserved that. Listen, I know you’re angry about being left behind. I know you think you could have prevented everything that happened, but trust me, you spared my children that horror by staying behind. My children didn’t need to see any of it. It would have haunted them for the rest of their lives.”
She glanced at him out of the corner of her eye. “We should have at least buried them, or at least tried to find out if any of them needed our help. We left them there, not knowing what happened to the rest of them. What kind of person leaves their friends behind like that? You left your own brother behind without burying him. I’m sure Bradley would have at least done that if it was you who had died.”
He stared at her for a moment. He knew she was right. He had run scared. He didn’t think about burying his brother. All he thought about was escaping with his life.
“Not only was he your brother, he was my friend. I knew I could count on him when times got rough.”
“Did you and Bradley ever…”
She looked at him shocked. “No! Your brother would never cheat on Felissa. He was loyal to her. Why would you suggest such a thing?” She glared at him. “Why?”
They heard commotion coming from the back of the truck. Stanly turned and looked to see what the commotion was about. He immediately saw what the problem was. A parrot had landed in the back of the truck and was shouting “Death is now here!”
“Pull over!” yelled Stanley, opening the door before the truck came to a stop. He ran to the back and stood in front of the parrot. It turned to face him and growled at him.
“It’s time to die! It’s time to die!”
“It’s time for you to die!” screamed Carol, pointing her gun toward it. She fired several shots until it fell over twitching with a large hole in its skull.
Stanley snatched it from the bed of the truck and threw it into the field, and then stood there motionless. A horde of zombies were only fifty feet or so away from the truck, making their way slowly toward them. Carol turned to run back to the front of the truck, but three zombies were standing in between her and the cab. She stared at the opened door and then the zombies. Today wasn’t the day she wanted to die. She quickly fired two shots be
fore she heard a clicking noise. She had run out of ammunition. She had managed to kill two of the zombies before running dry, but the last one was still moving toward her. She looked over at Stanley who was busy with a zombie of his own.
The children had covered themselves with a thin woolen blanket, hoping the zombies wouldn’t see them hiding underneath it. They huddled together and held their breaths.
Carol knew she was in trouble. She tried firing her weapon again, but to no avail. The zombie lunged at her and she managed to move out of the way just in time. It stumbled forward and fell face first into the truck. Wasting no time, she took the butt of her gun and pounded the back of its head until it was sent back to the darkness from which it came. It slid off the side of the truck leaving a large smear across it. She peered over at Stanley who was punching his zombie repeatedly in the face until its skull shattered from the force. He pushed it aside and looked at the horde coming from the field. He looked at Carol.
“We’ve got to get out of here now!” he screamed.
They jumped into the truck and Carol hit the gas. She continued down the road for about a mile and then hit the brakes. She slammed the steering wheel with her fist and screamed. She looked at Stanley. “This is never going to end. We’re going to have to live the rest of our lives fighting zombies. Before long there will be nowhere to hide. They are going to be everywhere. What are we going to do? What are the children going to do? This is the world that’s being left for them. This isn’t fair to them. It isn’t fair to anybody.”
Stanley peered at the back of the truck. His children were still underneath the blanket. “They’ll be fine. We’ll be fine. As for the rest of the world, they’re on their own. All we can do now is find somewhere safe to hide and find as many supplies as we can get. We need to stock up now while we still have a chance. We don’t know how much time we have left.”
“Are they going to come back as zombies?” she asked quietly.
“Who?”
“All of our friends we left at the park. Please tell me none of them are going to turn.”
Stanley wanted to tell her something positive, even if he knew it was a lie, but he knew they most likely would become one of the walking dead. He looked away from her. “I don’t know.”
She was hoping he would at least lie to her and tell her they wouldn’t turn into zombies, but she knew she preferred the truth. There was no way to know for sure. For now, until she had proof, she preferred to think they wouldn’t turn into one of the monsters. She hit the accelerator and made her way down the road. They needed to find supplies and somewhere safe to hide. If they were going to survive the zombie apocalypse, it was the only way they could.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
John sat silently as Donnie weighed their options. He knew if he could get back to his bunker, he could get all the supplies and manpower he needed to survive the outbreak. He just needed to formulate a plan that could get all nine of them back unscathed.
“They can’t stop us all,” said Ralph. “I’d rather not be hiding in this building if I have a fighting chance of escaping the city. What are we doing in here? Are we waiting until we’re discovered?”
“He’s right,” said Donnie. “If we stay here, somebody or something will find us. At least out there we have a fighting chance. The zombies are slow.”
“Are you forgetting the wolves?” asked Chloe. “We barely escaped them with our lives.”
“We can manage,” said Donnie. “We escaped them once, and I’m sure we can escape them again if necessary. I’ll take the chance of survival out there better than in here.”
“God will protect us,” said Cindy. “I think that’s why we were all brought together. We’re a stronger group now. I think we should leave here also. I don’t want to die because I chose to do nothing about my situation.”
“God will protect us,” said Clive. “I know he’ll protect us from our adversaries.”
Donnie wasn’t happy about all the religious talk, but at least he knew he had them on his side. “Have we reached a decision? Do we stay or do we go?”
The group looked at each other curiously. Five hands were raised and four remained lowered. Donnie looked at the four. John, Gus, Ben, and Ned hadn’t raised their hands.
“What’s holding the four of you back?” he asked “Are you afraid or something like that?”
John raised his hand, followed by Gus. Ben looked at Chloe and she nodded her head. He followed suit which left it entirely to Ned.
Ned was still haunted by what he had seen on the way to the downtown area. He didn’t want to take the unnecessary chance of being eaten alive. He liked his chances hiding in the building. At least inside it, nothing could rip him apart. Donnie stood in front of him.
“If you’re scared, you have eight other people who will be by your side. I promise we won’t let anything happen to you. Trust me; I will see to your safety.”
Ned looked at him and then at the others who were staring at him. “All right, I’ll go with you.”
“Good,” said Donnie. “I say we make our move now before anybody has any regrets.”
Donnie opened the door and peered up and down the alley. It was clear of any zombies. He motioned for the group to follow him. They stood, listening for any unusual noise. Everything was silent.
“Follow me,” said Donnie, leading them east. “We need to get as far away from the city as possible.”
“What happens if all the zombies have left the city, as well. We’re going to end up running into them somewhere along the way,” said Chloe.
“We’ll have to deal with that situation if we come across it. We’re going to have to be brave. If we let our fears get the best of us now, we’re going to jinx ourselves. Keep positive thoughts and positive things will follow.”
She looked at Donnie and back at Ben. She squeezed his hand and drew him nearer. “He’s going to be the death of us.”
Ben chuckled. He found it humorous she was able to make jokes under the stress she was feeling. “We’ll manage just fine. He did help us get away from the wolves.”
“Speaking of…” she started.
“Don’t finish your sentence. I’m sure they’re long gone by now.”
They made their way down the alley to the first intersection they came upon. Donnie stopped to look in each direction to make sure it was clear. “We should continue down the alley. If we try one of the main roads, we’ll be spotted for sure.”
They crossed the road and into the next alleyway. They were not aware of the military jeep that turned on the road and headed in their direction. It was stopping between streets and parking to conserve what little fuel that was left. It stopped and three men jumped out and moved to both sides of the road. Their mission was clear. Nothing or nobody was getting out of Valparaiso alive.
Curtis knew he was being forced once again to risk the lives of his men so they could carry out the mission. None of them had been trained for zombie combat. Fighting zombies was true soldier’s work, the kind not every person was cut out for in life. He knew several officers who weren’t cut out for this type of enemy. None of that mattered now. He was only concerned about his own butt. He was only a staff sergeant and wanted to keep it that way. He didn’t want any promotions, hell; he didn’t even want any recognition for his work. He just wanted to keep himself alive so he could go home to his family. To be an officer, you needed to have very thick skin and a lot of rationalizing power to cope with the crap the military threw at you. He didn’t have thick skin; he had a conscience. He didn’t want to dish out the orders; he wanted to hide behind then unnoticed.
It was a curious human condition that led people to become officers, sticking their necks out to save lives of the people they would never meet. What was it all worth? It wasn’t worth anything.
He heard the men yelling about a pack of dogs in the area. At least he thought they said dogs. He heard it more clearly this time. They said something about a pack of wolves. He quick
ly radioed it in and unholstered his weapon and jumped out of the jeep to join the others. He’d be damned if he was going to let a pack of wolves stand between him and seeing his family again. He knew he had to make it quick. They were burning the daylight hours and if they were going to get out before the bombs were dropped, they couldn’t act like a bunch of amateurs.
The pack sensed the soldier’s presence and turned all their efforts toward them. They had already lost one bountiful dinner that day, and they were not about to lose another. They stood there baying for the soldier’s blood. They leaped forward ready for the kill as the soldiers prepared for their attack.
The air was saturated with the sound of gunfire and shouting men. They had little impact on the charging pack. It was gaining ground on them at a rapid pace.
Curtis stood there realizing it was going to be a blood bath. Their bullets were doing little damage to the hungry wolves. He turned tail and ran back to the jeep. He had no plans of playing the hero. He wasn’t Custer and this wasn’t his last stand. He jumped inside the jeep and turned to watch as the wolves devoured his soldiers. He could hear their cries for help as the flesh was being ripped from their bones. He thought about jumping out of the jeep and helping his men, but he knew there was no use. Every time they took one of the wolves down, it would just get back to its feet and rejoin the charge. He put the jeep into gear and was about to leave the scene when all of a sudden, he was snatched from the jeep by a large white claw.
Curtis hadn’t been aware he was being stalked by a polar bear that happened to enter the area unnoticed. He hit the ground with such a force, he felt several of his bones snap on impact. The bear’s claws slashed him across the face, making a dripping ruin of it. Pain sliced through him like lightning in a thunderstorm. The bear took a chunk of meat from his arm and ate noisily as Curtis stared in terror. He felt himself slipping into darkness. He had let his guard down and now he was paying the ultimate price. He prayed to God to spare him from being eaten alive. He then thought about his wife and kids. He thought about how he would never hold any of them in his arms again. He thought about his orders. His mind became fuzzy and he felt death knocking on his door. He looked at the bear as he slipped into death. Screw the damn orders.
The Z-Day Trilogy (Book 2): Z-Day [Day of the Zombies] Page 13
