We would later learn that that good ol’ Uncle Sam had descended into Manhattan with a vengeance. Newspaper reporters, television crews, all followed along as the Army boys took out wave after wave of those things. Almost ten hours worth of filling them full of holes.
Funny thing about these dead, however, they didn’t drop down for good very easily. You had to have precise aim to take them out, hitting them in the head. Machine guns, grenades, mortar shots, all effective deterrents against man, but almost useless on the undead hordes. These creatures had no fear either. In modern warfare, the whole goal is to put enough of a hurt on your enemy so that they eventually give up. These things would never give up. The whole thing was a total cluster fuck.
With the persistence you would expect from a mindless horde of dead beings, they eventually overran our modern defenses, and all of it was caught on tape and broadcast across the globe.
Chauffer dropped to his knees and looked up at the sky, begging God for help.
Even those who haven’t spent a day in church their whole lives, suddenly let their inner choirboy out when they think their number is up. I went to school with a guy who was a real bad ass. You name it, he would smoke it or shoot it, yet the girls loved him. One night, he got too fucked up to drive, but he decided to jump in his pickup and take his girlfriend home all the same. I remember her saying that his last words were, “Dear God,” as his truck hit the tree and launched him fifty feet across a parking lot. She made it, but wound up in a wheelchair for the rest of her life.
She was probably one of the first poor bastards to be eaten.
Chauffer was pleading to the Lord Almighty when we heard a thumping noise from the door to the stairwell. He scrambled to his feet, falling silent. What first started as a knock had turned into a loud pounding that was rattling the door. We started backing away, when the splinters from Chauffer’s makeshift door lock shot out toward us like missiles. From out of the darkness, charged the six-foot-seven goliath that had pounded Josh to death downstairs outside the lobby.
Chauffer let out a scream, and started running. The movement caught the creature’s attention and it started to chase him around the top of the building. The zombie was clearly moving slower than yesterday, but it was only a matter of time before it caught its prey.
The monster finally snagged Chauffer’s leg, tripping him up. Chauffer fell flat on his face and then rolled onto his back, swinging his chair leg wildly.
He missed completely.
Kyle and I advanced on the giant. Pulling the hammer from my belt, we leaped on top of it, distracting it long enough for Chauffer to scramble away. It immediately twisted beneath us, throwing me to one side and Kyle to the other. I hit the door to the staircase with a thud, the air in my lungs disappearing. A wave of black crept into my mind as I struggled to keep my eyes open. The pain blurred my vision. Everything went dark. I was only out for a moment before coming to. Kyle was triumphantly standing over the creature as he drove the finishing blow through its skull.
It was always easy for Kyle. He knew death well.
We could hear multiple footsteps from the stairwell. There were more of them on the way. Kyle and I made eye contact, and then our gaze shot over towards the alleyway facing the parking garage next door. Chauffer was in a hurry, crawling across the makeshift bridge. The bastard was leaving us behind.
Kyle gripped my wrists and pulled me to my feet. My knees were still knocking violently but we dashed towards the bridge just as three more of them burst through the doorway. They joined us on the suddenly, seemingly very small rooftop. It was three of our zombie friends from the lobby: the one armed janitor, and two other nameless people in blood-soaked suits that I recognized. They must have spent all night trying to find us and trying to figure out the stairs.
Kyle shot across the roof to the bridge; I was right behind him. The one armed janitor was frantically grabbing at my leg when I glanced at Chauffer for help. He was safely perched on the parking garage. In that split second, I could see it in his eyes. He was going to save his own ass.
He reached over and started to heave the bridge off of the parking garage. Kyle screamed at him, but he didn’t even pause, giving another heave. I felt a jerk on my leg again. I reached for my hammer, twisting around, and dug the claw deep into the janitor’s head. Kyle and I shoved him backward, clambered over the now absolutely dead body, and back on to the rooftop.
Just as Kyle scrambled off the bridge, our end skittered sideways and dropped off, and flipped Chauffer’s end upward. Part of it caught him right across the middle of his cul-de-sac forehead. He stumbled backwards, blood running down his face. Not a lethal blow, but it would leave a hell of a scar. Holding his head, he turned and ran into the depths of the parking garage.
Looking back on it, if we hadn’t helped him, if we had let Chauffer die that day, so much misery could have been prevented.
Kyle and I could hear more footsteps, and a lot of them in the staircase.
Looking over at Kyle, as if reading his thoughts, I gave a brief nod. We took two steps back and started to run towards the gap separating that parking garage and us.
Faced with certain death, people will do anything to escape, no matter how suicidal.
My right foot landed on the ledge of the rooftop, and I pushed every ounce of energy I had straight through my leg. Even in mid-air, I could hear them screaming right behind me. Close enough to brush across the hair on my neck, but falling short to land on the pavement seven stories below.
The pain shot through my knee as my foot connected with the parking garage roof. Just as my leg buckled, sending me into a bone-jarring tumble, I realized that I had made it. No time for pain right now. I crawled back onto my feet, trembling violently and scraped, but otherwise, unharmed.
As I caught my breath, I looked around for Kyle. Oh, shit! He wasn’t with me. Fearing the worst, I shot a glance toward the rooftop. A swarm of them was there now, and some of the creatures were trying to jump across. I watched one of the dead make a tremendous leap, only to come just shy of its mark. The skull smashed on the edge of the cement. Blood shot across the garage roof, spraying my shoes. I staggered back a couple of feet. That’s when I heard a strained voice call out, “Pull me up!”
I ran toward the ledge, peering over to see Kyle hanging on by his fingertips. I clasped his arms, and hefted him up. He was a heavy bastard. Evidently, one of the creatures had gotten close enough to trip him up just before he made the jump.
Looking over towards a door that led to the entrance to the garage, I rubbed my leg and discovered a small shard of glass that had lodged itself in my thigh. With a sharp wince, I yanked it out and heard it hit the ground with a clang. I then pulled the Hummer keys from my pocket. No time to waste. The army of the dead was closing in.
“If we don’t get out of here before they surround this area, we’re not going to make it!” I growled in between gasps. No argument from Kyle.
We took a couple of deep breaths, giving us a few moments to survey the garage for any more of the non-living. I told Kyle that my boss’ car would be on the ground floor in the VIP parking area. We cautiously rushed to the staircase on the far end of the garage and started down the stairs.
As I eased open the staircase door on the bottom floor, I whispered that there were only a few of them stumbling around. Kyle gave a slight nod, stepped into the garage, and quickly slid behind one of the cars. My hands were trembling in the darkness. From car to car, we maneuvered through the garage, dodging the few creatures that had found their way into the depths of the indoor parking lot.
The Hummer was within sight. It was an imposing, yellow beast, designed to grab everyone’s attention. Before gas prices shot through the roof, and it became unpopular to drive them, these things could have been found in all the dance club parking lots. They were considered a symbol of status. My boss had decked this one out with a raised cab and oversized wheels.
We crawled up next to the Hummer. Reaching for
the door, I jerked my hand back, feeling the panic trying to take hold. I had to swallow several times because of the dust that had settled in my throat from when the building collapsed.
“If I unlock it with the key, it’s likely that the alarm will go off. If I use unlock from the keychain, it’s going to beep as well,” I whispered harshly.
Kyle weighed that carefully.
“Try the key, maybe it isn’t locked.” I gave him an uneasy look.
“Either way,” he added, “be prepared to move fast.”
With a trembling hand, I slid the key into the door, and cautiously turned it clockwise. A piercing sound echoed throughout the garage. Every zombie within a three block radius could hear it. I jumped up, and slid into the driver’s seat, punching the button to unlock the door as Kyle came barreling around to the passenger side. The piercing alarm finally stopped when I stuck the key in the ignition.
Before Kyle closed his door, we could hear a few of the creatures screaming in the garage. They were coming for us.
As I turned it over, all the equipment in the Hummer turned on. Navigation, the heater, the seats moved forward automatically. I watched as a seat warmer signal turned from off to on.
A real rugged ride...
The stereo started up as well, startling both of us. A few lines from America’s favorite pop princess shouted through the speakers before I switched it off, letting out a nervous laugh.
We later learned that many people had died in their pursuit to the radio stations. The broadcast gave them hope, a guiding light. It was as if the stations would provide them refuge. Most of the stations in New York were switched to recordings once bodies from the morgue started to sit up. Fucking executives, nobody wanted to miss out on advertising dollars. I wonder if they have any idea as to how many they have killed.
One of the zombies slammed into the side of the Hummer, then another. I automatically slapped my hand down to lock the doors.
“Reverse!” Kyle screamed as he twisted around to get a better view.
I put the Hummer in gear and stomped on the accelerator, throwing us forward. The rear wheels lifted up then crashed down again. I realized that we drove over one of them that was behind us. Another one was hanging onto the hood, just below the windshield wipers, pulling at the antenna to get better leverage.
Go! Go! Go! It was like a compact disc skipping rapidly in my head.
As I turned the first corner, the beast flew off into a parked Honda Civic. I sped around the final corner to exit the garage, feeling slightly dizzy. I remember hoping that the streets would not be as deadlocked with stalled traffic as it appeared from the rooftop.
Wishful thinking and the army of the Dead were visible, just a few blocks away.
As we pulled out on to the street with the engine grumbling, a number of heads lifted up through the open windows of the cars. There were clearly too many zombies to make it through on foot.
Looking over my shoulder, I could see a bunch of the faster ones catching up. Smashing my foot down on the gas pedal, I rammed through two smaller cars, and up on to the sidewalk. We drove right through a small group of the dead. They flipped up over the hood, one of their heads smashing on the front grill. Black ooze flowed up the windshield.
I fumbled with the buttons until Kyle reached over and hit the wipers. Through the black, stomach churning streaks, we saw the ferry still docked up ahead.
The approaching horde’s moans were audible over the engine, as well as the gunshots echoing from the boat. We could even hear it through the thick glass of the Hummer. Those creatures were on our ass, and we still had to make it through one block of this shit. I could see the green grass from the park in front of us, urging me to accelerate more.
Using the sheer size of the vehicle, we drove through a glass bus terminal, knocked over a fire hydrant and drove over a Lamborghini. Many of the cars still had their owners safely buckled in. Of course, they were now zombies, who had been bitten and turned while driving. They lacked the brain function to unbuckle their own seat belts.
If it had been any other vehicle, there was no way that we would have made it. I have to say the Hummer was what saved us. My boss’s Hummer saved us. I almost hate to admit it.
The tires bumped over the curb as we reached the park. I had a fleeting thought of never being so happy to see grass as right then. We could see a group of armed men dressed in black, stationed at the waterfront perimeter protecting the ferry. They were taking pot shots at any dead that came close. They had a few larger caliber machine guns with which they were simply mowing down the approaching horde.
We ran through a number of crippled zombies filled with bullet holes struggling on the ground, and knocked several more out of my way. One of shooters waved us over as the group split to let the Hummer through. We came to a screeching halt on the ferry.
With my foot still depressed on the brake, a distant voice next to me said, “Park.”
I didn’t move, clenching my body tight.
Kyle lifted his hand just enough to get my attention again.
“Put it in park.”
I all but slammed the gearshift to park, breathing a heavy sigh of relief.
Chapter 5
Friend or Foe? Does it even matter?
The ferryboat immediately pushed off of the dock. At first glance, I could tell that it was an older vessel. Rust sat in place of paint on most of the siding, and the engine was chugging along a little louder than one would expect. Looking around, I could see a younger man, clearly the captain of the ship, at the steering wheel through a large glass window on the second floor that overlooked the front where we sat in the Hummer.
My heart still painfully racing, I glanced back towards the shore. The guys running the boat had stopped firing, though the dead were literally running into the water. I watched in surprise as they went knee deep, waist deep, and then submerged completely, disappearing under the surface. I hoped they couldn’t swim.
“No telling how many of them are drifting around down there.” Kyle said, as if reading my thoughts. He wiped the beads of sweat from his brow, scrutinizing the people on the deck of the boat.
“Seems to be around twenty of them,” he said quietly.
“They don’t look to be military or police,” I commented equally as low.
“At this point, I don’t care who they are. They just saved our lives. Not a lot of that going around these days.” He motioned back towards the buildings from where we had escaped.
“Yeah,” I snorted sharply. “I’m hoping we run into that little bald son-of-a-bitch again.”
“Not too many people you can trust right about now,” he agreed.
Eyeing him carefully, I said, “You’re about the only person I trust at the moment.”
“My sentiment exactly. We should watch each other’s back. No telling what these guys want.” Kyle tipped his chin toward our rescuers.
I nodded my head in agreement.
Now that we had a chance to breathe, Kyle and I checked out the Hummer, digging around for any hidden gems that would help with this mess. Kyle peered into the glove compartment, and sighed with disappointment as we realized there were no weapons hiding behind its casing. Instead, he found a Twinkie and a Kit Kat. With a grin, he asked, “Pastry or Chocolate?”
My stomach contracted sharply, reminding me that I hadn’t eaten since lunch the day before.
“Pastry,” I said. He handed me the Twinkie, and I tore into the package, feeling famished.
As I dropped crumbs onto my own filthy, blood stained, white, button up shirt and black tie, I continued to survey the car. There was a coat in the back seat along with a bunch of old wrappers from various types of junk food. Candy, chips, pastries; there was even a half-eaten sandwich back there. It only confirmed to me that my now retired boss was a bit of a filthy pig while he was alive.
A few from the group on the deck of the boat were now watching us rooting through the Hummer. One of them pointed over in our dire
ction and three of them started walking towards us. They were dressed in similar clothing. All black jump suits. Not any one outfit was quite the same as the next. Clearly, they had a dress code of some sort, but it wasn’t a uniform that they all “received.”
“You ready for this?” I asked nervously.
“I sure hope so,” Kyle said with a more than serious face.
We both opened our doors and stepped out of the Hummer to greet the men who saved our lives. Now, we just had to find out why.
With stone faces, all three of them stood there for a moment, sizing us up. We were doing the same back to them.
The largest in the group stepped forward. I remember thinking that I had never seen a real mustache like the one he wore. It was a monster of a ‘stache,’ stretching across his face and then back up into his side burns. That coupled with a brown oversized cowboy hat and his black jump suit made me think some of the old toys I played with as a child. Give him a plastic machine gun, a backpack and a Kung Fu grip, and he’s the perfect GI Joe Action figure.
“You guys are nuts,” he proclaimed with a smile, as he extended his hand.
I reached over and shook it, replying, “We were thinking the same thing about you. We’ve been watching you all morning, fighting off those creatures, saving people fleeing from the city. Who are you?”
Mr. ᾿Stache spoke rather casually. “We’re the dudes that just saved your asses. Let’s just say that we’ve been expecting this sort of thing for a while, and we’ve been prepared for it just as long.”
He went on to explain that he was the leader of the New York chapter of a group of survivalists who, on any other day, would be considered a bit overzealous about the end of the world. Mostly prepared for a nuclear strike, an invasion from a foreign nation or simply World War III. These people were the kind who walked around quoting Einstein by saying things like, “I know not with what weapons World War III will be fought, but World War IV will be fought with sticks and stones.”
900 Miles: A Zombie Novel Page 3
