The Last Town

by Knight, Stephen

Corbett nodded. “We have multiple incursions. The town’s about to be split in two. We can’t hold the stenches back. So that’s the straight shit. I need you to fly five of my guys to Oxnard, take a vehicle we have there, and get to your boat. You have provisions aboard? You must have satellite communications and high-frequency radios, right?”

  “You know I do,” Norton said. “But my plane only carries six folks, and that’s without full fuel. If I’m carrying five, what about my parents? And… and Danielle? And her dad?”

  Corbett snorted. “Why, Norton, I didn’t know you cared.” When he saw anger flash in Norton’s eyes, he raised his hands. “Easy there, pal. I was only kidding. Obviously, none of them are going with you, but they’ll be following soon enough. Trust me on that.”

  Norton cocked his head. “Sorry, you’re asking me to trust you with the lives of my family?”

  “Yes.”

  “Oh, really? Maybe you can answer some questions, then. How many people do you expect to be able to get on your Gulfstream, Barry? And what happens if the airport is closed or just overcome with zombies? What if the fucking Air Force shoots you out of the sky?”

  “Listen, Norton. You don’t have to do this. I have other pilots who can fly your fucking plane,” Corbett snapped.

  “I’m sure you do, Barry. But how many of them know the security code to get into the boat?” Norton asked. “That’s a six-million-dollar yacht. You think I didn’t add enough security to prevent it from being stolen?”

  Corbett sighed. “Okay. Listen. I’ll make sure your parents and Danielle are on my jet, and Martin, if you really want him along. I’ll give them the best shot I can. But in order for that to happen, I need you to take a team over to Oxnard and secure the boat. Get it out to sea, broadcast your position, and wait there.”

  “What am I waiting for, exactly?”

  Corbett smiled tightly. “For about thirty folks packed tight into my jet as it ditches right beside your Pacific Mariner.”

  6

  SURVIVE

  SINGLE TREE, CALIFORNIA

  The zombies came over the walls in a putrid deluge, a tidal wave of necrotic flesh animated only by a mindless directive to feed. Without reason, intellect, or fear, the hordes ignored everything but their desire to rend the flesh from the bones of the living. There was no parlay, no chance at negotiation. The gates of Hell had been opened, and it seemed that Satan himself was intent on claiming Single Tree as his next domain.

  Gary Norton looked up at Barry Corbett and saw his own reflection in the mirrored lenses of his sunglasses. “Take off your damn sunglasses!” he snapped.

  With a thin smile, Corbett pulled off the sunglasses. His blue eyes gleamed brilliantly in the light of the day. “Sure thing, though I’m surprised you want to stare lovingly into my eyes. But you’re one of those Hollywood types, so you’re at least partially effeminate. Happy now?”

  Norton glared up at the billionaire. “Repeat what you just said.”

  Corbett blinked. “What, about you being effeminate?”

  “About your fucking plane, you patrician prick!”

  Another volley of gunfire cut off any further reply. Norton turned and scanned the area. The defenders atop the inner wall were working overtime, hammering at another growing mound of zombies. Metal twinkled in the sunlight as cartridges rained down from the fighting positions overhead. Thousands of them already littered the ground at the base of the wall.

  “Oh, that,” Corbett said, raising his rough voice over the din. “Yeah, it’s not the most elegant solution, but I didn’t have time to plan for something more elaborate. It’s the best I can do.”

  “You call ditching your jet in the Pacific a solution?” Norton shot back. “I thought you were smart. Guess I got played just like everyone else in this town. You’re super rich, but you’re dumb as a fucking post, aren’t you?”

  “Look, Norton—”

  “Look, Corbett, how many people are going to survive a ditch in the ocean?” Norton was on a tear. “What’s a G650’s stall speed—a hundred fifty knots? That’ll be like driving it right into a brick wall! I know Gulfstream builds top-shelf product, but it’s a fucking airplane, not a tank—aluminum, titanium, all that lightweight composite? Yeah, it’ll hold up just fucking great once it hits the first wave, then disintegrate as it rolls across the wave tops. I’ll just be fishing bodies out of the water, unless your pilot’s name is Chesley Sullenberger!”

  Norton was frightened, more than he’d ever been in his entire life, but he was also furious, not only with Corbett but with himself for believing that the billionaire could save the town. They’d been in contact with the dead for only a few hours, and already, everything was going to hell in a handbasket. Norton had helped sell the original strategy to the entire town, and it turned out Corbett’s contingency plan was to load up a sixty-five-million-dollar plane with people and ditch it in the Pacific, presumably somewhere near Norton’s yacht. About a twelve on the what-the-fuck scale.

  Lennon tensed up beside him, and that fool Sinclair was recording the entire thing on Norton’s own camera, smiling as he peered through the viewfinder.

  “Norton, calm down,” Corbett said.

  Norton pointed at his parents. “You want me to entrust you with their lives? What the hell, Barry, you overdose on Viagra?”

  “Norton!” Corbett reached for Norton’s shoulder.

  Norton snatched the man’s hand in a perfect aikido wrist lock, twisting just hard enough to make Corbett’s eyes widen in shock and pain. Lennon put out a hand, and Norton stepped toward him, pulling Corbett with him. Norton snapped out with his free hand, slamming Lennon in the center of his chest protector with a quick Iron Hand technique.

  Lennon floundered backward a couple of steps but recovered quickly. His face was all hard angles as he reached for the pistol at his side.

  “Tell your pet dog to go fuck himself, or I’ll break your wrist,” Norton snarled at Corbett.

  Corbett looked at Lennon. “Walt, I think he probably means it. Stand down.”

  “Like hell,” Lennon said. “We have other pilots.” He pulled his pistol and pointed it at Norton’s head.

  “Gary!” Norton’s mother shouted, as his father fumbled with his rifle.

  “Everyone calm down!” Corbett roared. “Lennon, do as I tell you!”

  The ground erupted all around Lennon as a rifle rolled a rapid cadence. Norton’s parents screamed, but Lennon remained motionless while he was pelted by dry soil and dust. Danielle Kennedy stood twenty feet away, rifle at her shoulder. Her dark hair was matted with sweat and grime, and dust and expended gunpowder speckled her face. Norton thought she was beautiful.

  “Lennon, you pull that trigger,” she shouted, “your body’s going to be the second one to hit the deck. I’ll make sure to tell your wife you died like a pussy, gunning down a man who wasn’t even holding a weapon.”

  “Little gimp girl, you think you have what it takes?” Lennon said, his eyes never leaving Norton.

  Danielle fired again. The round struck Lennon’s pistol with a pale ping. Norton gasped as the weapon was ripped out of his hand and sent clattering across the pavement. It was a true trick shot, something Norton had seen in countless movies, though he’d been told by plenty of professionals that such shots were worthless in the real world.

  “Yup,” Danielle said. “That’s pretty much my man there, so the next one’s in your head.”

  “Stop it!” Corbett roared. “Everyone, just stop it!” He glared at Norton. “You’ve made your point. Now let go of me.”

  Norton released his hold and stepped back.

  Corbett massaged his wrist for a second then favored Norton with a grudging grin. “Didn’t expect that from you, Norton. You almost broke my wrist. Guess you’re not such a Hollywood pussy after all.”

  “You’re not winning me over, old man,” Norton said.

  They all turned toward Danielle. She still held her weapon on Lennon. Her dark eyes were steely and
blank, like the eyes of a doll. Or a killer. Norton had suspected she was made of strong stuff, but he hadn’t known just how strong until right then. She was willing to kill another man... for him. Norton didn’t feel worthy of such effort, such sacrifice.

  “Dani, stand down!” Corbett said, iron in his voice.

  “Sorry, Barry,” she replied. “I know what guys like Lennon can do.”

  “Dani, lower the rifle. I’m good,” Norton said.

  “Yeah, but no,” Danielle said. “You guys go ahead and have your talk. I’ll just keep my sights on Lennon for a little while longer. You okay with that, Walt?”

  “Knock yourself out, Marine,” Lennon said.

  “Cool. Don’t move, and don’t wave any of your guys over, and you’ll be just fine.”

  Corbett shook his head. “Fucking madness.”

  “You mean like all the zombies attacking the town?” Norton asked. “Barry, are you serious about ditching the plane?”

  “It’s all I got,” Corbett said. “You in?”

  “My parents? Dani and her dad?”

  “Already told you I’d take care of them,” Corbett said.

  “Yeah, about that… you also said you’d defend the town.”

  Corbett sighed. “Damn it, Norton. I’m doing the best I can. I prepared as well as I could in the time I had. Can’t you see that?”

  Norton didn’t doubt Corbett’s desire to save the town. That it was falling so soon must have cut into what was left of the old man’s soul like a hot knife through butter. “That still doesn’t explain why you think ditching a G650 full of people in the Pacific is a cool idea,” he said.

  “You have to trust me on that,” Corbett said. “Like I told you, it’s all I’ve got right now.”

  “Bullshit.”

  Corbett cocked his head. He was still rubbing his wrist. “You think I’ve got something up my sleeve?”

  “Hell, yes.”

  “I need your boat, Norton. It’s big enough. It’s tough enough. And you keep it in good shape. This is my final contingency, and it all hinges on you.” He jerked his craggy chin toward Norton’s parents and Danielle. “You want to see them safe and sound? I’m doing my best, but your yacht has to come into the picture. You do your part, and I do mine. Otherwise, we’re all going to die here.”

  “Who else lives, Corbett?” As Norton asked the question, he felt his guts reel. Who could make that kind of choice? Inside, Norton realized he couldn’t. He couldn’t pick and choose when it came to lives. There were more children in Single Tree than could fit in Corbett’s jet, and the thought of leaving any of them to die rocked him.

  Corbett’s eyes were clear when he answered. “Whoever’s left when it’s time to leave,” he said, and the gunfire conspired to make his voice small.

  Norton nodded. “So you want me to take a team of your guys with me to Ventura County and get my boat. What if it’s not there? What if someone’s managed to steal it? What if it sank? What if there are too many zombies to get to the marina?”

  “Then we’re fucked,” Corbett said, “and we all die here.”

  “You must be joking,” Sinclair said.

  Everyone turned to look at him, except for Danielle. She still had her rifle trained on Lennon.

  Corbett faced Sinclair and his camera directly. “No, Mr. Sinclair. I am not joking. This is it for us.”

  As he spoke, a zombie managed to clamber over the inner wall. It fell to the ground on the other side, striking the hard-packed desert floor, sending up a mushroom cloud of dust. The impact was powerful enough to shatter bone, but still, the grotesquerie tried to crawl toward them. Danielle took her sights off Lennon long enough to fire a single round through its head.

  Corbett turned back to Norton. “So, we done with the dramatics for the moment?”

  Norton nodded. “Yeah.”

  “You need to get to the airfield. Walt will take you.” Corbett swung toward Lennon. “We going to have any further friction here, Walt?”

  “No, sir.”

  Corbett grunted and told Norton, “You need to be wheels up in an hour. Can you do that?”

  “Hell, yes. But you need to fill me in on the details.”

  “Okay, Norton. Okay.”

  ###

  Hailey couldn’t believe the number of zombies pouring over the walls. They were everywhere, and they showed no sign of stopping. In the kill zone between the first and secondary walls, thousands of bodies lay motionless on the ground, while thousands more thrashed and struggled against grievous injuries that had halted their forward momentum. Those that could crawl over the bodies of their terminated brethren did just that, but they didn’t get far. They were eventually trampled into goo by the rising herd that followed them, roiling over the first walls and collapsing into the kill zone.

  Hailey fired as quickly and as accurately as possible, taking out one zombie every couple of seconds. The less skilled shooters on the wall beside him burned through their magazines at an alarming rate without racking up even a quarter of the kills Hailey had. That was going to be a problem because, unless they calmed down and started shooting straight, the stenches would form another mound. And if the zombies penetrated the second wall, then it would only be a matter of time before they managed to overwhelm the deeper defenses, many of which were still being erected. Yeah, a little late for that.

  So Hailey kept at it, hammering the dead as efficiently as he could. Beside him, Suzy did the same, leaning into her rifle and sending projectiles into the kill zone in a controlled manner. Most shots resulted in a kill. The area was beginning to look like a zombie mosh pit, and the targeting was becoming tricky as the zombies tripped and stumbled across the field of fallen dead. Even Hailey missed a few shots every now and then when his target suddenly fell just as he pulled the trigger. And despite his best efforts, it was becoming a more regular occurrence.

  The miniguns in the towers had fallen silent, and he wondered what would happen to their crews. They had their personal weapons, but if they used up their combat loads trying to help stem the tide, they’d be out of luck. And if the stenches somehow managed to start climbing the ladders to the towers, then it would be hand-to-hand combat. No one in their right mind would want to fight the dead mano a mano, especially since zombies didn’t get tired. They just kept coming.

  “Mike, they’re mounding up to your right!” Suzy shouted over the gunfire.

  Hailey didn’t quite understand what she said at first—Did she just say, “Mike, they’re pounding up a fight”? He leaned forward and looked down the length of the wall. Enough stenches were over there to coalesce into a mound if the shooters allowed it to happen. He slant-fired across the kill zone and took out several, causing the nascent mound to collapse in a flurry of flailing pale limbs and tattered clothing. They wouldn’t take long to reorganize and make another attempt. And the mounding would eventually be successful because the available firepower on the secondary wall was much less than what had been stationed on the primary walls. There were only so many fighting positions, and with all the targets vying for attention, the defenders on the wall couldn’t keep up.

  Hailey tuned out everything but shooting stenches in the face. Runners kept dropping off fresh magazines behind each shooter. But every time Hailey turned to pick up a full mag, another few hundred zombies appeared in the shooting gallery below. More mounds were forming, and they were forming quickly. Dirty, dusty faces leered up at him, mouths open wide, teeth glinting in the sun. Hailey stopped trying to shoot the zombies tottering toward the wall, and instead, he leaned forward and began popping off the ones at the base. There was no stemming the tide coming across the primary walls, so the only thing left to do was try to prevent them from mounding over the secondary ones.

  Hailey’s ears rang, and his eyes burned. Every now and then, one of the cartridges from Suzy’s rifle would bounce off him, and he prayed one of the hot projectiles didn’t find its way down the collar of his uniform shirt.

  Hai
ley was slipping and sliding on a sea of expended cartridges, his nostrils ablaze from the expended gunpowder, when he saw a panicked flurry of movement to his left. The first mound of stenches had overwhelmed the wall. Several defenders were firing point-blank into the growing pile, sending ghoul after ghoul tumbling from its apex. Another mound began forming right below Hailey’s position, and its undulating peak was less than ten feet away. Hailey had no choice but to keep pounding it, since he was too far away from the action downrange to help the others.

  “Suzy!” he shouted. “Check your left!”

  “What?”

  “Check left! Check left!”

  From the corner of his eye, he saw her turn. She suddenly stepped back from the wall and began firing down the walkway. Hailey looked up and spotted several zombies pulling themselves over the ledge. One of the defenders was yanked into the mosh pit by several pale, filthy arms, even as he continued to fire. If the man screamed, Hailey didn’t hear it. He watched in abject horror as the poor guy slowly slid down the mound, being torn apart bit by bit as his body passed dozens of hungry mouths. His blood was brilliant in the bright light of the day.

  The incursion caused a break in the line of defenders as they responded to the sudden threat. Hailey was torn, not knowing whether he should assist in fighting off the ones already topping the wall or return to pounding away at the mound forming below his feet.

  The decision was made for him when another defender down the line was taken down by two stenches that tore into him. Pallid figures clambered over the wall, jerking and staggering as bullets ripped into them. When ashen hands reached for Suzy, Hailey grabbed the collar of her tribal reservation police shirt and yanked her back. As he did, she shot one of the ghouls right through the teeth, snapping its head back and sending it tumbling over the wall. The zombie was buoyed up again an instant later as the rising geyser of stenches continued boiling upward.

  “We gotta get down from here!” he shouted at Suzy.

  All around them, hands were reaching over the wall’s lip. The mounds were everywhere, and the dead were about to overrun the secondary wall.