Last Man Standing (Book 2): Zombie Annihilation

by Lockwood, Max

  With a kick, he shook off the zombies holding on to him and slammed the door behind. Rotting fingertips hit the pavement like raindrops as he shoved the zombies back. He looked for a way to secure the door, but the only locks were on the inside. So he stood with his back pressed to the door as zombies peered menacingly at him through the window.

  His whole body shuddered as the door bounced back and forth while the zombies worked themselves into formation. Eventually, the monsters began to shove their bodies in unison, completely overpowering Matthew’s strength.

  But this bought Carl and Sergio enough time to race to the car. Matthew could hear the engine start just as his body lurched forward. The force of the door pressing against him launched him toward the Jeep as zombies slithered out from the cracks.

  “Come on!” Carl screamed as Matthew flew toward the vehicle. Carl pushed open the back door a fraction of an inch so Matthew could hop in before the zombies got to him. He was just in time. He slammed the door shut as bloody hands pounded on the windows, leaving red smears all over the glass. They climbed the hood of the car, obstructing Sergio’s view as he tried to navigate through the crowd.

  He punched the gas, driving over zombies with a sickening crunch. The few that managed to hold onto the roof and windshield went soaring into the air, landing hard on the concrete.

  Then Sergio reversed, managing to knock two more zombies down. He looked through the rearview mirror, satisfied to see the creatures immobilized.

  He sped off in the direction of the gate, shaking a few more off the car but not fatally wounding them. He accelerated into the gate until Carl yelled at him to stop. He braked so hard that Matthew slammed into the seat in front of him, not yet having the chance to fasten his seatbelt.

  “The gate is locked!” Carl yelled.

  Matthew let out all the air in his lungs until his ribcage ached. He wasn’t the type to point out that he was right about something very important, or he might have said a snide comment. But the situation was too dire for that. Zombies surrounded the Jeep that had no way of getting through to the street just feet from them unless someone got out of the car to unlatch the gate.

  Matthew sank back into his seat, feeling completely defeated. Every time he thought they were close to escaping, something stopped them in their tracks.

  It made it impossible to have an optimistic attitude about anything. While the middle of a zombie apocalypse was the worst place Matthew could ever imagine being, he still struggled to find the will to fight from time to time. It all felt so hopeless and futile.

  The closed gate felt like some kind of metaphor for his existence, but he was too exhausted and scared to figure out what it meant. He just knew that it was bad—really bad.

  8

  “What now?” Sergio asked as he revved the engine in an attempt to spook the zombies. This did nothing but attract more. The heat from the engine seemed to cause them to flock even more. In fact, more stragglers joined the others, adding to their numbers. The soldiers had unwittingly locked themselves in the zombie pit instead of giving them a clear space to flee.

  A familiar dread filled Sergio’s gut. He had steered the other two astray by insisting that they close the gate. While he believed that his initial instinct was correct, it had all gone so wrong.

  As a child, Sergio thought of himself as a little adventurer. Having earned all of his scouting badges years before his classmates, he saw himself as an authority on all things outdoors and survival-related. On the weekends, he implored his friends to go to the mountains with him and hike the trails by his house.

  Sergio’s parents worked constantly and depended on Sergio to take care of himself. Naturally, he seemed competent in making his own macaroni and cheese, given that he could make a full breakfast of bacon and eggs in front of a roaring fire in the woods. He could set out snares for rabbits and create splints for broken bones, so kidnappers and potential injurious activities were not worried about. He was far more independent than the average boy as a pre-teen. He could be trusted.

  “Be good,” his mother said that Saturday morning, kissing her son on the cheek. “Stay out of trouble.”

  “I always do.” Sergio grinned. He was charming even back then. His dimpled cheeks and the glimmer in his brown eyes were irresistible to adults, who could never seem to scold him for any misbehavior.

  His mom gave him a warning look. “I’ll be home at four. Your dad will be home around six. Call either us if you need something.”

  “Bye. Love you,” he said quickly before pulling the covers back over his head for a few more minutes of warmth. He listened as his mother left the house and drove her minivan down the driveway. Sergio loved these moments where he had the house to himself. His younger sister was staying over at a friend’s house, so he didn’t have to worry about her trying to follow him around while he was hanging out with his friends.

  After he got out of bed and ate a bowl of cereal in front of the TV, he checked the watch his dad got him for his last birthday. It had a stopwatch, a countdown timer, and a compass built into the face. Also, when he pushed a button, the numbers lit up, making it perfect for planning for meteor shower watching.

  It was nearly ten o’clock. He had told his friends to meet in his driveway at ten, where they would then walk together to the trailhead. He filled his backpack with essentials for the day—water, snacks, a roll of toilet paper, plus all the goodies he parents had let him pick up from the outdoor supply store with his allowance money. They wouldn’t be able to stay the night, as the weather was getting cold and his friends’ parents weren’t as cool as his own, so they told their parents they were going to Sergio’s place to play video games, and yes, his parents would be home.

  Instead, Sergio led his own little scout pack on the weekends, telling his friends which leaves were edible and which would cause terrible itching rashes if they tried to use them for toilet paper. He taught them how to tie complicated knots and how to reel in a fish. When his parents gave him permission, he could build a fire from wood and kindling so his crew could roast hot dogs and marshmallows. Sergio spent as much time as possible outdoors, something his parents had to appreciate. It was better than letting him stay inside all day and having him watch mind-numbing television or play video games. At least he was active and learning something.

  Sergio put on his fleece jacket and slung his pack over his shoulders. As he stepped out the back door, he saw his friends riding their bikes down the street. They tossed their bicycles on the front yard and stood eagerly in the driveway, ready to find out what their next adventure with Sergio would be.

  “My mom says I have to be home by four,” Derek said, stuffing his hands in his jeans pockets.

  “That’s fine,” Sergio said. “It shouldn’t take us that long to complete the hike.”

  “Which trail are we taking this time?” Miguel asked.

  Sergio smiled. “We’re going off the trail today.”

  “Is that safe?” Joe asked. “My dad says we have to stay on the trail so we don’t get lost.”

  Sergio shook his head. Joe’s dad wasn’t much of an outdoorsman. He didn’t know the mountain like Sergio did. He figured that few people did. He had been climbing around for nearly a decade. It felt like a second home.

  “I know it like the back of my hand. I promise,” he said sincerely. He did a final check to make he had all of his necessary supplies—plus some unnecessary ones—and led the way to the beginning of the trail.

  Sergio was a decent student and a pretty good athlete, but he knew more about hiking and camping than anyone his age. He loved being the best at something. He liked being able to share his wealth of knowledge to colleagues who looked up to him.

  As they walked up the mountain, he chattered with the others about the usual conversation topics. They discussed their favorite and least favorite classes, each taking turns to come up with rude nicknames for the mean PE teacher. Then, they teased each other about the girls they liked while simul
taneously swearing that they would never tell anyone their secrets.

  When Sergio led his group to the rock that kind of looked like a rabbit, he pointed to the left of the trail.

  “This way,” he said gleefully, bounding over fallen branches and scattered rocks. He made his way down the hill, just off the trail. He grabbed a skinny tree trunk to slow his speed, then twirled around the tree to the right.

  Muscle memory had kicked in at this point. He couldn’t say the exact number of paces on the top of his head, but he could feel his position on the mountain. After they climbed the two little hills, they would reach a small clearing that offered a pretty sweet view of town. The kids trotted along, diverting farther and farther away from civilization—just as Sergio liked it. Being away from town gave Sergio a little time and space to think. In retrospect, the problems of a pre-teen boy were somewhat insignificant, but at the moment, they meant everything. There was no predicting his life beyond the confines of his hometown and his youth.

  In time, the group reached the clearing, panting and sweating as they removed their jackets and set them on the ground. Sergio passed around a bag of homemade beef jerky and made sure everyone was drinking enough water. His scout leader said that dehydration could set in quickly and cause hikers to get sick, so he should always drink before he felt thirsty.

  “This is pretty cool,” Miguel said, much to Sergio’s delight. “I’ve never had a view like this before.”

  “I know.” Sergio smiled, looking out over the tree line. He could see their neighborhood—houses perfectly in rows. Their school sat in the center, vacant on a Saturday morning. If he had remembered his binoculars, he could have pointed out everyone’s house from above.

  Once his group had rested up, he wanted to take them just a little farther. From there, they could either turn around and go back the way they’d entered or trek a little farther until they found the trail again. No one really wanted to go home yet, so they continued on, led by Sergio and his compass.

  It had been an unseasonably rainy fall in the mountains, causing portions of the dirt to wash away. Sergio enjoyed the added challenge. Now, he was also traversing through an obstacle course. He leapt over exposed tree roots, tiptoed along thin ridges, and used fancy footwork to keep himself on his feet as they jogged downhill. He had gotten so into his little game that he didn’t realize that he had gotten so far ahead until he heard shouting from behind him.

  “Sergio,” Miguel called, fear in his voice. “Joe fell down the mountain.”

  Sergio frowned. That wasn’t possible. They had to have been playing a trick on him. He didn’t find it particularly funny, seeing as accidents happened to hikers every now and again. He turned around and raced toward his group, about to lecture them on the importance of safety in the woods.

  Soon, he discovered that they were not joking around. From what Sergio could tell, Joe must have stepped onto an unstable rock that had come loose in the mud. From there, he slid down the side of the mountain, about twenty or thirty feet.

  “Are you okay?” Sergio shouted down to the ravine. “Can you climb back up?”

  A loud moan came from below. Joe was clearly injured in some capacity. It would be impossible not to have a few bumps and bruises at the very least.

  “Are you hurt?” Sergio called again.

  “Yes,” he said weakly.

  Sergio’s stomach dropped. He had read up on rescue techniques, but never in a practical application. He had watched videos where helicopters rescue people lost at sea and read instructional booklets for how to survive animal attacks. In theory, he knew that someone would have to toss a rope to him and pull him back up. Or, if the injuries were severe enough, someone would have to secure him to a board and hoist him back to the trail. Both of these things were outside his expertise. He needed help.

  “You guys go get help,” he ordered, pulling a length of rope from his backpack. “I’ll lower myself down there and find out what’s wrong with him.”

  Miguel and Derek looked at each other with apprehension.

  “We don’t know how to get back to the trail,” Derek said softly.

  Of course, they didn’t. Sergio had gone his own route, twisting and turning through the thick vegetation. Only he knew how to get back home and instruct the rescue crew on how to get back to Joe.

  “Okay, then I’ll go and get help. You two watch him and make sure he’s okay.”

  His friends looked blankly at him. They had yet to listen to Sergio’s seminar on safety.

  “I’ll be right back, I swear,” he panted before sprinting away. As he ran, Sergio was overwhelmed with guilt. If something was seriously wrong with his friend, then he was to blame. He had led them to believe that going off the trail would be fine. It was all his fault.

  He knew that he needed to get an adult, but part of him wanted to retrieve Joe on his own and keep this whole thing a secret. He would be exposed as a phony if his actions led someone to be seriously injured under his supervision. His parents would never trust him to stay home again. His scout troop wouldn’t want him to go on camping trips. He might even have to give his badges back.

  After he reached his house and called 911, he went back to the trailhead and waited for emergency services to arrive. With a shaky voice, he explained what had happened to his friend, then he showed them how to get to him. He watched helplessly as they pulled his friend from the ravine, pale-faced and clammy. Then, he went home and waited for his parents to get home so he could confess what he had done.

  In the meantime, his friends had used the rope to lower their jackets and a water bottle so Joe could keep himself warm and hydrated as he waited for help. The paramedics said that their actions may have kept their friend from going into shock.

  Understandably, Sergio’s parents were disappointed that he had gotten his friends into trouble, but they were mostly relieved that Joe’s parents didn’t sue them. He eventually got to visit Joe in the hospital, who was resting up after having surgery to reset his broken leg. It didn’t take long for the incident to be swept under the rug, but it stuck with Sergio for much longer.

  After the incident, Sergio continued his scouting career but wasn’t as vocal about his prowess. He hated making mistakes, especially when he had been so confident in his abilities. The moment stuck with him throughout his life, coming back as the little voice in his head that told him that he had made a mistake.

  In the army, he had little control over his actions. As a young soldier, his commands were given to him, with little room for interpretation or discussion. He did as he was told. If something went badly, that fell upon the superior officer, not Sergio. But whenever something tragic happened, he couldn’t help but wonder if he had somehow caused it.

  When Reagan died, there was really nothing he could have done. But when he lay away at night thinking about that day, he imagined making some small change that could have saved her life. He could have broken orders and followed her into the fight, taking the bullet for her. He could have stopped it, just as he could have kept his friends on the trail where it was safe.

  Again, he felt the sting of remorse and the blow of being so completely wrong about something. He had demanded that the gate be shut, even though Matthew had reservations. In the end, Matthew had been correct. Sergio was wrong.

  “I can’t drive through the gate,” Sergio said softly, more to himself than the other two. “If this car is destroyed, then we’re absolutely screwed. It’s our biggest form of protection.”

  With every second that passed, more zombies had arrived on the scene. Now, there was a group that had congregated outside the fence, waiting for the survivors to make it to the other side.

  “Someone has to get out,” Sergio said, taking off his seatbelt. “Someone will have to unlatch the gate and open it.”

  Carl pressed his hand against Sergio’s chest. “You’re the expert driver here. We need you to get us out of here.”

  Sergio let out a deep breath. It was his f
ault that they were in their predicament. It was only right that he get them out of it.

  “He’s right,” Matthew said wearily. “I’ll do it.”

  Sergio looked to the backseat, his stomach churning. “Come on, man,” he started to protest. It would be extremely risky to leave the vehicle. If anything happened to Matthew in the seconds it would take him to open the gate, it would be entirely Sergio’s fault. He didn’t know if he could live with the guilt.

  “Can’t we just roll down the window and drive really close to the gate?” Sergio asked. “You don’t even have to get out of the car. We can do it from here.”

  “We have to distract them so I can get out without being mobbed,” Matthew said, his heart pounding. “Try driving around the parking lot. If you happen to hit a few of them, that’s just a bonus.”

  Sergio looked at him through the rearview mirror. He couldn’t face him. “Are you sure? How are you going to get to the gate? Won’t they just follow us around?”

  Matthew nodded. “That’s the hope. When the moment is right, I’ll jump out and open it. Time this right, and I can hop back in the Jeep as we book it out of here.”

  “This is insane,” Sergio responded as he put the car into drive. He started circling the parking lot. He spun in a few quick, erratic circles before steadily accelerating around the lot. Sergio hit a few zombies that stepped in his path, but he didn’t go out of his way to smash them. His windshield was already hard to see out of. He turned on the wipers, but they only left worse red smears on the glass.

  In his mind, he counted down from three as he drove the perimeter of the lot. He would distract the zombies by switching his path, ever so slightly, so they couldn’t predict his next move. Then, when he was a few feet away from the gate, he would slow down and give Matthew the go-ahead to get out. From there, he would ram into any zombie coming toward his fellow soldier, then slow down just enough for Matthew to get back in. As a skilled driver, Sergio mapped the whole operation in his head as he sped around the lot.