“Even though he got bit... will he not change into a zombie still after death?” Private Samples asked curiously, considering throwing away his vile of the Anti-virus.
“Ben died around the same amount of time as Private rickets here did. And it was almost immediately after having took that stuff. But, he never became a zombie. I saw it with my own eyes,” Tyler proclaimed.
The Sheriff thought it over for a moment. “It worked for Mark. I’m just not sure if I’d trust it with my own life. Then again, theirs that chance you’d end up hurting the one’s you care about. Otherwise you’ll just die anyway and become a zombie.”
“Should we set him out?” Jake asked, unsure what everyone would say.
Private Samples pushed through the cramped aisle, holding back his emotions and anger all he could. “No, we’re going to take him back up to the mountain and give him a proper soldier’s burial; we’re not going to just throw him out to the curb.”
In a daze, everyone began to stare out the command post’s windows. With zombies ferociously beating and pounding on all sides of the vehicle, the survivors began to think of a solution. “The front entrance into the hardware store looks barricaded from here,” Tyler said.
“Make room back there. I think we might have found some survivors,” Sheriff Houser said, almost assured, restarting the command post’s engine.
“Here pull over there to the side,” Mark said, pointing.
Once at the side lot, the command post came to a stop just in front of a locked gate. “There’s a back loading dock at the side of the building,” Mark said.
Row upon row of PVC Pipe and conduit of various shapes and sizes were kept on racks beyond he gate. Mark quickly climbed atop of the command post and drew one of his pistols. With one pull of his trigger—he shot the large lock completely off of the gates entrance. With zombies following the command post’s every move—Mark pulled out his MP7 and with lightning-quick-speed and perfect precision and began eliminating each and every zombie that began to surround.
Mark kneeled down upon the roof and beat heavily a couple of times giving Sheriff Houser the sign to pull on through into the lot.
Mark rose to his feet, unloading another round with his new sub-machinegun, firing into the ever increasing horde of zombies. With the mobile command post smashing through the gate, Mark gracefully flipped down on to the ground. Without missing a single step he was now in a full sprint from the second his feet had hit the gravel. Mark kept his sub-machinegun firing—precisely killing zombies one lethal shot after another, all the while running to catch up. Mark grabbed the gate entrance, closing it back tight. With the lock broke, Mark took the metal latch and powerfully wrapped it around the fence post preventing any approaching zombies from flooding into the lot after them.
As Mark ran at full speed trying to catch back up to the command post, two zombies limped out in front of his path, each undead hardware store employee was still wearing their tool belts. At a full sprint the MP7 was aimed at one of the zombie’s head. Without losing accuracy, a perfect trajectory was calculated. Even the two zombie’s movements were taken into consideration before a couple of precise shots were fired at each of their heads. Although the side lot had not been completely free of zombies, it was seemingly more secure than beyond the fence they had just came.
Nearing the command post, many gruesome zombie faces were seen gathering around the chain-linked outer fence, grabbing and shaking at it.
Leaping powerfully four times higher than the average person, Mark now climbed the rest of the way up the command post’s roof. The powerful leap had seemed somewhat effortless and had sent him landing on the edge, drawing a gasp from Tyler as he looked out the back port window. “That was amazing!” Tyler said ecstatically—mimicking some of the moves he’d just witnessed.
“Pull on up next to those delivery trucks,” Mark said. “If they still run, we can use them to get some of this junk home with us.”
“You think they still run?” the Sheriff asked as he pulled near the loading dock.
“Let’s hope so. We can go ahead and load them up if they do,” Jake said, eyeing the sleek and red, newer looking model.
The Sheriff’s eyes widened, easing the command post up next to the loading dock. “I’d like to build a barn. We can also go ahead and get some stuff to put up some fences for the livestock. We need some shovels, posthole diggers… we’ll just go ahead and load up.”
“Alright, everyone stays here,” Mark announced, exiting out the side door.
“I’m sorry partner… I’m going to be your back up today,” Sheriff Houser announced, cocking his handgun, readying his weapon. “That’s an order.”
Mark turned back. “While we’re in here making sure everything’s safe, you all can see if these trucks work. And if you can, I’m going to need a couple of racks full of that conduit and piping over there loaded on to the back of one.”
Nearing the back door, sounds of hitting, banging, and scratching could already be heard coming from within the building, if only very faintly, but not near the exterior doors themselves. Mark fastened his MP7 back onto its sling around his back, and then drew his twin handguns. The back door stood tall and was made from some sort of reinforced rusted metal.
“It might be easier for me to just go ahead and get the garage door up,” Mark said, judging his options.
Readying his weapons, Mark powerfully kicked open the metal door like it had been standing open the whole time.
With the force of the blow, the door opened right up—leaving visible pieces of damaged metal sticking out from around the locking mechanism and door frame.
“I could have done that,” Sheriff Houser said jokingly as he readied for a fight.
Staring ahead, darkness seemed to wait beyond the doors thrashed threshold. Immediately zombies broke the silence. Mark took a defensive stance, before delivering a front spin-kick—knocking one zombie along with its own momentum right off the dock behind him. Mark quickly dropped to one knee and shot the next two undead in the head, waiting as the last slowly began to make its way from inside.
Sheriff Houser, with his gun drawn began to climb down from the loading dock to finish off the zombie who might have survived. Just as his feet were about to touch the concrete, and before he knew what hit him, that same gruesome zombie was already to its feet and rushing its way atop of him. The Sheriff fell hard to the ground with the zombie on top. With the Sheriff in distress, Mark put a final bullet into the brain of the slow moving zombie scurrying at him towards the door. Sheriff Houser, having wrestled his way into a clear shot, stood up and dusted himself off. “Damn, that was close! It took that fall like a champ. It was already to its feet by the time I climbed down. I didn’t get bit—but I’m going to have to be a bit more careful!”
While the group of survivors worked on getting the delivery trucks running, they began to get nervous as the zombies that had now accumulated around the fenced in lot were appearing to be nearly in the hundreds. The zombies were filthy, covered in blood with various visible injuries, they were all angry, watching the commotion take place within the dusty gravel lot. Each and every zombie continued to get more and more riled up as well as hungry. They viciously began shaking and hitting on the chain linked fence. The Sheriff and Mark, once safely inside the back loading area within the store, were surprised to find where the noise had been coming from. It had been upon their initial examination of the outside of the store, when they initially heard the loud banging. Having entered the building, Mark and the Sheriff walked around in the dark room. The thin wooden walls of a large storage cabinet began to shake violently. And from what little light was entering from the back door at various holes and cracks along the large metal garage door, the Sheriff could see the tiniest reflection of light gleaming off the lock and chain.
“Should we open it up?” The Sheriff asked, each sound of his voice causing the wooden storage closet to shake more violently.
“It seems pr
etty secure to me,” Mark whispered, looking around the area of store designated as stock room.
The Sheriff and Mark gathered over near the entrance into the store, at which point they found that the double doors were closed tight with a lock and chain from the other side.
“Another lock and chain,” Mark whispered.
Mark stuck the barrel of his pistol through the small opening between the double doors. “I might can shoot it open.”
As the Sheriff and Mark tried to stay calm and figure out how to proceed—pounding on the flimsy wooden door continued. Just as the Sheriff and Mark’s attention was diverted, the trapped zombie burst through the cabinet, leaving thin, splintered strips of wood at its feet. As Mark separated the double doors quickly—the lock was shot, causing it fall to the ground. Intense danger was prevalently all around. The sight of the foaming beast appeared intimidating. Just as Mark turned, the festering corpse of a seven foot tall and well over three hundred pound zombie began rushing furiously at him. With the beast approaching, the Sheriff jerked Mark by the back of his shirt, forcing him in through the double doors and into the next room.
Once through the double doors, all light was absent. Mark closed the set of doors, bracing for impact as the massive zombie collided. Mark, using his superhuman strength held the doors in place with one hand as the large zombie beat and pounded. As Mark powerfully held the door, a pair of unknown figure approached using the cover of darkness. Bracing for impact from the swing of a foreign object, Mark simultaneously chopped a thick wooden broom handle in half, all the while holding the massive zombie at bay. He then delivered a sidekick—knocking his would be attacker to the ground. With Mark’s eyesight acute to the darkness, more assailants could be seen coming near, one carrying a board and another a metal pipe. Instead of grabbing his pistols, they were left in their holster. “Put down your weapons,” Mark said. “We’re here to help.”
As the attackers approached, to even Mark’s chagrin, unexpectedly, one began to sneak up on the Sheriff. With his free hand—Mark quickly tossed a ninja throwing knife at the attacker’s hand—knocking what appeared to be a machete out from his clutches. The Sheriff was completely oblivious to what was taking place: fearing pulling out his flashlight would make him a target to anyone occupying the pitch-black store.
“Don’t worry… I got this.” Mark reassured.
As a new set of attackers came near, quickly, the double doors were let go. Having stepped away from the light still refracting from the outside through the loading dock, as soon as the double doors swung open, the silhouette of the massive, giant zombie could be seen as it roared angrily. Unable to see where Mark and the Sheriff had gone—the zombie started fiercely swinging its long powerful arms as its feet stepped heavily onto store tile.
Mark watched for a brief second as the attackers ran off as fast as they had arrived. With no one intervening—Mark leapt out from the shadows delivering a powerful jumping front kick to the drooling giant zombie’s chest. The powerful kick didn’t hardly faze the beast as it roared louder in anger. Again from the shadows—the beast’s extended arm was jerked forward. In the same instance Mark spun around—delivering a swift jumping hook kick to the back of the monstrous-sized zombie’s head. The force of the kick dropped the zombie to one knee. Stunned by the concussive strike—Mark rose quickly from the ground up—hitting the beast with a sharp rising knee to the chest, after which coming back down with an extremely fast and powerful elbow to the back of the zombie’s skull. As the zombie squirmed around on the floor, a piece of broken broom handle was picked up off of the ground. In an instant, the broken handle was used to impel the zombie through the store floor.
Sheriff Houser quickly pulled out his flashlight: many different faces came peeking out from all around the darkness, hidden at times behind the store displays. As the flashlight scanned over the area, the unidentified occupants began ducking, hiding around corners, up and down the store aisles “We’ve got children here, Sheriff Houser said.
“We come in peace,” Mark announced loudly, with his voice echoing through the many large aisles of merchandise.
“We’re with the Sheriff’s Department, come out where we can see you,” Sheriff Houser demanded loudly.
The Sheriff and Mark stayed cautious, walking up to the front of the hardware store as the sun from outside brightly illuminated everything through small blind spots throughout the barricaded off store front windows. The two stood patiently in wait as one young survivor after another came out of hiding. The Sheriff and Mark flashed their badges, proving that they were indeed men of the law.
“Are you here to feed us!” a small child shouted.
Sheriff Houser stayed cautious: eyeing every one of the parents that seemed suspicious while being weary of any sudden movements from anyone that might be using their child as a distraction. To the tried and tested former sergeant, without proper confirmation, his ways forced him to remain unsure as to if it was all some kind of ploy.
Mark on the other hand could sense the good in the people who’d just attacked. “Yes… we’re here to save all of you. We offer safety and shelter, plenty of food and supplies.”
Later on that day, outside in the gravel lot, Private Samples grabbed his M-16 and climbed up into one of the five ton delivery trucks, getting ready for the trip back up the mountain.
With Mark finishing up loading his own truck, the group watched for a second as the remaining supplies were tied down onto the bed just before raising the tailgate and hopping in. Once the survivors began to pile onto the command post, crowding in, Private Ricketts appeared, now a zombie, snarling and out of nowhere attacking the first person aboard.
Tyler kicked the zombie away, making it back towards the group, yelling at the top of his lungs, “Get off!”
The pale zombie soldier was furious and had caught everyone off guard. “Rrrah!”
As the zombie began slowly making its way towards the group of survivors—Private Green forced his way through the crowded command post—pushing the zombie hard to the ground. With the zombie knocked on its back struggling to get up, the rest of the survivors began to backtrack off of the vehicle, fleeing for safety.
From the back of the command post—the pale zombie soldier was back up making its way slowly towards the exit. Once the survivors were completely off the vehicle—everyone began to scatter and hide behind racks of pipe. As soon as the slow moving zombie with a bad limp stepped down onto the gravel lot—Private Green put a 9mm slug into his once best friends head. The shot left Private Ricketts dead corpse, ultimately dead, and a non-detriment to the group, just like he would have wanted. The gunshot echoed loudly from over next to the command post. From what the survivors could tell, the noise helped rile up the zombies at the gate entrance and along the fence line even further. And upon moving the body to the side, the group quickly started to climb back aboard, preparing for the dangerous ride through town and back up the mountain; however, before everyone was back aboard, a large section of the fence started to topple allowing hundreds of zombies to flood in. With the fence having given way—the survivors realized just how lucky they were to be safely back aboard the command post’s cramped quarters.
As the survivors drove slowly through the gravel lot preparing to exit—hundreds of zombies could be seen out their windows. Easing up directly behind the command post was the two delivery trucks, each loaded up and strapped down with supplies. With use of some of the Sheriff’s Department issued walkie-talkies, the Sheriff and Mark began to coheres, deciding on who was to lead the way back up the mountain. For fear that the delivery trucks would get too bogged down with zombies getting caught up under the vehicle, possibly causing a breakdown, it was decided that Sheriff Houser would clear the way with use of the command post’s low undercarriage and heavily reinforced body.
Bursting through the gate, the command post led the way out of the hardware store’s side lot. Making way, the steel reinforced command post careened through a zomb
ie horde.
Chapter 29 way of the undead
Held up in an old fashioned movie theater, Joe and a few of his gang members continued to wait on word back from the rest of his gang. For unknown reasons Jocelyn had fallen ill. Joe was slowly beginning to realize that he was a potential carrier, even after having been cured. Joe knew that with no bite marks, or any other means to be infected, that could mean only one thing: the zombie plague was still coursing through his veins.
Joe kept all concerns to himself; however, what little sympathy he did have in the whole world rested entirely in her. She was almost at the twenty-four hour point of infection when the Anti-virus that the gang had given her apparently had little to no effect. It was at that point when the fever slowly began deteriorating what was left of her mind.
Pacing back and forth, given his new enhanced abilities, the gang had secured a somewhat stranglehold over what was left of town, one block at a time. Joe, along with Vince waited impatiently for their cue to strike. Looking out from the high-rise over the streets of Gatlinburg, their weapons were drawn in wait of first signs of the cantankerous old mobile command post traveling back through. Jocelyn was on the brink of death, the fever had gripped her, and she was now lying alongside one of her girlfriends in the back room of the theater’s upper loft. Together they continued to rest. When having witnessed the command post on its first passage through town—the rest of the gang had a surprise waiting if anyone even dared to come back through their territory uninvited. A few of the outlaws were out at this very minute trying to fix the problem. Upon realization of his near superhuman abilities, Joe and his gang weren’t just looting anymore, but robing, and killing innocent survivors: even committing these heinous acts against the living on more than one occasion.
With the command post barreling through hordes of zombies—the two delivery trucks followed in close—making their way through the zombie infested streets. The sky had begun to turn gray—with an ice-cold-breeze sweeping across the entire valley. Moisture could be felt in the air and with no uncertainty about it—the survivors knew that it would probably come a downpour soon. Continuing the drive through the jam-packed, hectic and chaotic streets, a few solitary drops of rain began to fall down upon all three vehicles window shields. As Mark dodged heavy gatherings of zombies along with debris—maneuvering his delivery truck—the rain began to fall steadily harder. After almost ten minutes of the downpour, puddles began to collect in the streets. Getting overrun by zombies became a major concern, as wheel traction dramatically began to decline.
Way of the Undead Page 24
