Dead Run_A Zombie Apocalypse Novel

by R. J. Spears

  “How’s Henry?” Ellen asked.

  “He’s okay,” Molly replied. “Doc Wilson is looking him over.” She took a moment to glance over her shoulder and out the open door. What she saw sent a chill across her body. “Listen, I know your body is a little fucked up right now, but we have to move a little faster. We have five or six zombies in-bound, and I want to be inside before they get here.”

  Ellen looked past Molly and saw the deaders on their way. “Okay,” was all Ellen said. She gritted her teeth and sped up her actions.

  Molly scooted hurriedly across the seat and helped Ellen move from one seat to the other. Ellen grunted in pain with each big movement. Molly reached the doorway and stayed there to help Ellen exit as best and easily as she could.

  Henry saw the movement and sat up quickly. “Mom, you okay?” His head felt woozy, and the whiplash of sitting up so quickly sent a wave of nausea through his body, forcing him to close his eyes for a moment.

  “I’ll be okay,” Ellen said, looking down and envisioning what was involved in the next set of movements and estimating the pain that would be involved. She knew she would need to double or triple that estimate when a series of wracking pains rippled across her rib cage.

  Doc Wilson looked up to Ellen and asked, “How are you doing?”

  Ellen replied, “I think I have some broken ribs.”

  “How badly does it hurt?” he asked.

  “Well,” she said, “it only hurts when I breathe or move.”

  Doc Wilson thought she was either in good enough shape to make the next few moves or she was being very brave. He moved next to the door. “Mrs. Hatcher, come help me get Ellen down.”

  Up to that moment, Mrs. Hatcher had been bouncing back and forth on the balls of her feet, looking as if she might go airborne at any moment. It was clear to see that she was ready to bolt for the entry doors at any moment.

  “We need your help, Mrs. Hatcher,” Doc Wilson said firmly.

  This broke through Mrs. Hatcher’s fear and, with obvious reluctance, she came over beside the truck’s door.

  Henry tried to get to his feet but collapsed back down to the ground.

  “Stay down for now, Henry,” Doc Wilson said. “We have this. You’re going to need your strength to get inside.” He turned his attention back to Ellen, who stood shakily in the truck’s passenger doorway. Molly stood just behind Ellen, looking over the older woman’s shoulder.

  “Here’s how we’re going to do this,” Doc Wilson said. “Ellen, do what you can to ease yourself out the doorway. Molly, you grab hold of the top of her pants and slowly let her down. Mrs. Hatcher and I will grab her as soon as she gets within reach.” He paused and glanced back at the cornfield and saw that the zombies were closing the gap more quickly than he liked.

  “Okay,” Doc Wilson said. “Let’s make this happen.”

  Ellen braced herself for what was coming, both mentally and physically. She put both of her hands out on the threshold of the doorway, and Molly got a solid grip on the waistline of her pants. Ellen leaned out the doorway and Molly, not a big girl by any means, did what she could to slow Ellen’s descent.

  Ellen’s breathed in and out in tight, little gasps. She slowly descended, and Doc Wilson, a tall man, was able to reach her first, taking her right arm and shoulder. Mrs. Hatcher was a short woman, so she had to wait for Ellen to get down further.

  A wave of pain surrounded Ellen’s chest, and she lost all of her strength, letting go of the sides of the door, and started to fall. Molly held on for all she was worth, but it was clear she would be pulled out the doorway if she didn’t let go. She knew if she did, she would end up on top of Ellen, and that wouldn’t do her any good, so Molly let go.

  Doc Wilson immediately saw what was happening and moved in to intercept the tumbling Ellen.

  This wasn’t going to be a pretty exit.

  Mrs. Hatcher, again, went into indecision mode, not knowing whether she should get out the way or to hold her ground and try to help. To her credit, she stayed in position,

  Doc Wilson took on the full brunt of Ellen as she fell on to him, but he did what he could to soften the impact with his arms. It was almost enough. Ellen let out a loud but short scream as her midsection slammed into Doc Wilson’s shoulders.

  Mrs. Hatcher cautiously moved in and put her hands against Doc Wilson’s back to keep him from slamming against the ground with Ellen. Still, Ellen’s impact almost took them all to the ground. Being on the ground with approaching zombies was a very bad idea.

  Doc Wilson, with Ellen in his arms, went to one knee to keep them both from falling. They did stay upright for the most part, swaying uneasily before becoming steadier. By this time, Ellen’s face was bright red with pain as she bit back another scream.

  “Let’s get her to the ground so I can check her out,” Doc Wilson said.

  “Do we really have time for that?” Mrs. Hatcher asked. “I mean, those things are getting closer by the second.”

  Doc Wilson looked over his shoulder and then said, “You do have a point, but we do have weapons, don’t we?”

  “You want me to take them on hand-to-hand?” Mrs. Hatcher asked, her face going pale.

  “I need just a minute or two to make sure Ellen is in good enough condition to move,” he said.

  Molly jumped out of the truck, got beside Henry, and said, “I hate to tell you this, but you may not have a minute or two. Those undead fuckers are coming.”

  “I can help,” Henry said, but in truth, he could barely hold his head up.

  “Don’t be a moron,” Molly said. “You’re whipped. We can handle this.” She picked up her three foot piece of metal pipe and slapped it into the palm of her hand. “Bring it on, mother fuckers. Bring it on.”

  On the other hand, Mrs. Hatcher looked less formidable with her mop handle. In truth, she looked ready to piss her pants.

  Doc Wilson eased Ellen to the ground and started his inspection. Each time he applied any pressure to her midsection, she winced and even yelped a little.

  “Are you having any trouble breathing?” He asked.

  “I told you that it hurts when I take in a breath,” Ellen said through clenched teeth.

  “What I mean is, do you feel like you’re getting a sufficient amount of oxygen?”

  She took a moment to let a wave of pain pass but then answered. “Yes. I think so.”

  “I’m pretty sure you have some broken ribs,” he said, “either broken or badly bruised. There’s nothing I can do here, so we need to get you inside. Can you do that?”

  “I don’t think I have much of a choice,” Ellen said.

  To accentuate Ellen’s point, Molly said, “We have incoming. Two undead bastards are coming up fast. ETA one minute.”

  “Let’s get you up,” Doc Wilson said, standing up and holding down a hand for Ellen to take. “Take it slow. This is going to hurt like a son of a bitch.”

  Ellen reached up and took the doctor’s hand. He did it as easily as he could, but she let out a long half-grunt/half-scream as she came to her feet.

  “Henry, can you stand?” Doc Wilson asked.

  “I guess, I gotta,” Henry said and got shakily to his feet. It wouldn’t earn him any style points, but he stayed upright.

  A set expression came across Molly’s face as she braced herself for the oncoming zombies. She would call it her game face. It was the one she put on when she played field hockey, telling her teammates that she was ready for whatever the other team had to dish out. At school, it meant playing the game. In that moment, it meant the other team was ready to eat you.

  Two zombies were ahead of the rest of their moribund mini-clan. One of the duo looked like a grandma, only she looked like she had dug her way out of the grave. Her skin was covered in dirt and what looked like dried chocolate that Molly knew was really blood, but she pressed that thought to the back of her mind. It’s challenging to fight zombies when you’re about to toss your cookies.

  The second of
the two closest zombies was another one of those worse-for-the wear types. Something bad had happened to its hands as it didn’t have any fingers left. They looked gnawed down to the knuckles. Large hunks of skin and muscle were missing from its arms, too. These wounds caused the creatures arms to flail weakly at its side. If you paid close attention, you could tell it was trying to raise them but couldn’t muster the strength.

  “We’re going to have to take these two out,” Molly said to Mrs. Hatcher.

  “Can’t we just shoot them?” Mrs. Hatcher asked.

  “We shoot them and every one of those dead sons of bitches wandering around in those cornfields is going to come running. Or, at least shambling. When the truck broke out the windows, that meant that those things can get inside. We have to do this hand-to-hand.”

  Mrs. Hatcher audibly gulped and said, “Okay.” That one word came out of her with a lot of vibrato.

  “You two ready?” Doc Wilson asked of Ellen and Henry.

  “Ready as I’ll ever be,” Ellen said.

  “Can’t we run around them?” Mrs. Hatcher asked.

  The two zombies passed the entry door, effectively blocking the escape route.

  Molly responded to the question. “Sure, we could try to run around them, but that means that the other zombies could get a chance at getting to us. Plus, neither Henry or Ellen are ready to run. ” Molly turned and caught Mrs. Hatcher in a hard stare. “Listen bitch, you have to have my back because if you don’t, you’ll wish you had taken on the zombies. You understand me?”

  Mrs. Hatcher just nodded.

  Molly took a step forward and pulled back her metal pipe, ready to go to battle. Her forward action put her on a collision course for Grandma Zombie. Sure, she didn’t look all that formidable, but Molly had never taken on a zombie hand-to-hand. In fact, she had never been in a fight in her life. For all of her tough talk, she liked rational outcomes to debates, but she knew there was no rationalizing with a zombie. They only understood violence, and it was violence that Molly was about to use.

  Grandma zombie put out both of her hands, reaching for Molly, wanting a bite of flesh.

  As it turned out, she would never get one. Not from Molly. Not from anyone.

  Molly swung her metal pipe in a vicious arc, right at Grandma Zombie’s head. Her swing was true, and the pipe and all of its momentum smashed into the zombie’s head. The zombie’s skull broke like an eggshell from the force, and it was as if someone had yanked the zombie down and to the left with a power winch.

  In both shock and surprise, Molly stood for a moment with her mouth agape, not truly comprehending what she had just done. Reality caught up to her quickly as the second zombie stumbled at her.

  Still, she took a moment to celebrate and looked down at the dead zombie and said, “Hell yeah. How do you like that shit?”

  As it turned out, she should have delayed the celebration just a little longer as the second zombie caught its foot on a rock and stumbled forward with some acceleration, just to stay upright. It weakly put out its arms, but could barely raise them above its waist. Despite its seemingly feeble effort, it was still a serious danger to Molly. If it rammed into her and they both ended up on the ground, bad things could happen. Very bad things.

  Molly started to raise her pipe again to ward off the zombie, but a long piece of wood shot over her shoulder and past her face. The quickness of the motion knocked Molly off-stride for a moment, but the end of the wood turned out to be Mrs. Hatcher’s mop handle. It struck the zombie right in the center of its forehead. The blow didn’t have much force behind it, but it was enough to knock the zombie off-balance. The zombie stumbled off to the right and fell onto all fours just past where Molly was standing.

  Mrs. Hatcher bounced on her feet while holding the mop handle out in front of her, trying to maintain the furthest distance while also trying to keep the undead creature at bay. It was a losing proposition because, at that distance, she couldn’t be very effective. The zombie started to rise, but Molly shot forward and bashed the thing to the ground. It started to push itself up, but Molly ended it with a crushing blow to the back of its head.

  It fell face first onto the ground and did not move again.

  Molly turned to Mrs. Hatcher and said, “Thanks for the save there.”

  “Sure,” Mrs. Hatcher said with a crooked smile. “Can we go inside now?”

  Molly looked back to Doc Wilson and asked, “Can we get them moving?”

  Doc Wilson had an arm wrapped gingerly around Ellen’s waist, and Henry was upright but not looking all that stable.

  Doc Wilson said, “Ready or not, I guess.”

  They started forward when they heard the sound of a helicopter in the distance and all of them looked skyward.

  Chapter 41

  Night Attack

  Darkness fell like molasses over The Manor -- slow, hot, and sticky. That’s how it seemed to Jo. It was as if the daylight didn’t want to give into the night, clinging to the last rays of the sun until, at last, the darkness was just too overwhelming and the rout was on with the black of night seeming to absorb any of the remaining light. On top of the slowness, the temperature and humidity seemed to increase exponentially, making her clothes stick to her body. She had always hated that, and in a world devoid of air conditioning, it was more than annoying.

  She wasn’t eager for Jones to go on his solo assault, but at least, they would be doing something. Anything was better than nothing. Of course, there was a likelihood that Jones would be killed or captured.

  But she and Del wouldn’t let that happen if they could. Unbeknownst to Jones, they planned to follow him as stealthily as they could. She had no desire to go down in a suicide mission, but if they could get those helicopters out of the sky, their people would have a fighting chance to get to safety.

  As they waited for nightfall, the helicopter they had seen leave earlier returned, but another one left not too soon after that. Jo didn’t know how to interpret that, but she knew nothing good could come from the comings and goings of those damned helicopters. There was no way to tell if they had found their people on the road or not, and that gnawed away at Jo in the back of her mind.

  Del, who was just a few feet away from Jo, leaning against a pine tree, slapped his arm. “Damn bloodsuckers.”

  Jones chided him, “Keep it down.”

  Del stuck his tongue out at Jones, knowing the soldier couldn’t see him the dark.

  “What are you waiting for?” Del asked in a whisper.

  “Guard change,” Jones responded from his spot behind a large tree trunk. “Dallas is a by the book man. He’ll change out the guards at 9:00. I guarantee it. That’s when I make my move.”

  Jo thought it made sense but also wondered if there was any order anymore since the world had been turned upside-down. Maybe this Lieutenant would decide that the shifts were ten hours and not eight like Jones was expecting. Maybe he wouldn’t change the guards at all and just drive the guards into the ground with exhaustion. Kilgore certainly didn’t follow much logic when he ran the soldiers at the Manor.

  “There they are,” Jones said.

  Jo leaned forward and could barely see in the inky darkness, but there was some movement on the makeshift airfield. Two figures moved onto the field from the dark bulkiness of the buildings and another set from near the helicopters moved to meet them. One of the new guards was smoking a cigarette. Jo didn’t think that was too smart. It made him stand out like a beacon, but maybe these soldiers didn’t take this duty very seriously. When she considered it, who would attack a place full of well-armed soldiers with attack helicopters? Fools and idiots, that’s who.

  She knew these thoughts didn’t reflect well upon their little attack force. She added the description, desperate, to her list of who would make this sort of attack.

  “Time to move,” Jones said as he stepped out from behind his tree. “If anything bad goes down, get the hell out of here.”

  Jo couldn’t see his face
in the darkness. Only a slight gleam came off his eyes as the moonlight reflected off them. Then he was in motion, moving gracefully like a jungle cat, using the shadows of the trees to mask his movement. Within seconds, he was no longer visible as he moved along the tree line to get the shortest distance between two points. Point one being the tree line and point two being the helicopters.

  His stealth made Jo think he just might be able to pull off this surprise attack.

  The plan was for him to make the long run to the helicopters. In his military garb, he would blend in like another soldier and he could use that to get close to the choppers. Then disable them anyway he could. Easy in, easy out. Nothing could be simpler, until it wasn’t.

  Jones became visible again as he stepped out of the shadows created by the canopy of trees. His silhouette stood out against the open field bathed in the pale blue of the moonlight, and this dropped some of the hope she had in his success. He was seventy-five yards away from the closest helicopter. To Jo, the distance seemed like a mile because he would be out in the open, but she conceded that his silhouette would be against the background of the trees, which were as dark as a cave.

  Jones ducked down and went into motion, moving quickly across the field, cutting the distance by the second. To Jo, he seemed to be moving in slow motion as her eyes cut back and forth between Jones and the helicopters. She conceded that unless he could teleport, he could never move fast enough for her comfort.

  He was down to twenty-five feet when a spotlight beam from the third floor of the Manor popped on and slashed across the field toward him. He slid to a stop, and Jo could only imagine that he was assessing the distance between him and the helicopters and then how far he was from the trees. That mile-long assessment Jo made earlier was looking more like reality.

  “What should we do?” Del asked, an edge of panic in his voice.

  “Nothing for now,” she replied, her words tight and crisp. “We have to wait and see what happens.”