He kept coming like an NFL lineman intent on sacking the quarterback. A zombie moved on an intercept path between us, but the giant blasted it to pieces with several well placed shots.
I aimed and took a breath, my finger poised on the trigger. I waited a full second and pulled the trigger. My bullet struck him in the chest and blew out his back in a spray of dark green matter. At least, that’s what it looked like through my night vision goggles. He grunted, spun, stumbled and fell. He let out low pitched scream of frustration as he lay there, cursing into the night.
He was one tough son of a bitch. First, he took a whack from Chuck’s nunchucks and then he took a shot in the chest and he was still alive. But not for long.
The only problem was that my shot gave up my location. Fortunately, the zombies were more interested in the giant as he bellowed a stream of curse words into the night. I knew they’d come for him first, but they would finish him off and it was only a matter of time before they came for Rosalita, Chuck, and me.
I watched as the zombies slowly converged on the giant. Through the night vision goggles, they looked like geriatric ghosts as they shuffled and shambled excitedly toward the cafeteria that was the giant. He was going to make quite a meal. I watched and considered sparing him from being eaten alive, but if I took another shot, the zombies would zero in on me quickly. I looked away when the first zombie fell on him.
He fought them off for as long as he could, then I listened as he screamed, pitiful yells like an animal wailing in the night. It was so bad that I wished I had shot him.
After they finished their giant-sized meal, the zombies rose and started in search of a second course and that would be us. More and more zombies clogged the center of the field, wandering in the darkness, their arms out, reaching for nothing, but grabbing for everything. All of Jeb’s people who had come out with us were either dead or had taken off for the compound.
I estimated there were still well over fifty zombies in the field and I also estimated their chances of stumbling across any of the three of us were high. I decided to reduce their chances and duck walked over to Chuck. I prodded him twice and he moaned. I took that as a good sign. I grabbed him and dragged him back over to where Rosalita was in a slight depression in the ground. I figured that was helping us stay out of view.
“Mr. Grant, you must go,” Rosalita said. “Save yourself.”
“Rosalita, you’re going to piss me off in a minute if you keep that up,” I said as I looked back at the compound. It would have a been a good run for me to make it back, but I couldn’t leave Rosalita and Chuck alone.
“Can you check Chuck out?” I asked. “I think he was shot.”
She sat up and gingerly crawled over to Chuck and began to feel around on his body. I kept track of the zombies wandering the field. Most were still massed around the giant (or what was left of him) while a few shuffled about aimlessly. The cover of darkness was the only thing protecting us. If one of them stumbled across us and I had to shoot, the party would be on and we would be the guests of honor at their buffet table.
“Mr. Grant, I can feel a bullet hole on his side,” Rosalita said. “There is some blood, but I can’t tell anything else.”
I moved over Chuck and said, “I thought he was wearing a vest?”
“He is, but the shot hit right at a seam on his side.”
“How bad is he?”
“His pulse is still strong, but he has lost a lot of blood.” I watched as she tore a part of her shirt, wadded it up and stuffed it under the kevlar vest.
Rosalita had worked as a nurses aid earlier in her life and had learned a little about taking care of medical emergencies. That plus patching up what she said was a hell raising husband had taught her the basics of battlefield medicine.
“We’re on hold until the other group comes with a truck or something,” I said.
“Do think they are coming soon?” she asked. “They have been gone for a long time.”
“Soon. They’ll be here soon.” I said trying to reassure myself as I did her.
Something moved just in the corner of my vision and when I turned I saw a short, but broad looking zombie headed directly at us. Its arms were outstretched and there was no doubt that it had seen us. Fortunately, zombies don’t have the sense to communicate and yell things like, “Here they are,” or “Come and get it.”
Still, its approach put me in an a real pickle. I really wanted just to shoot the damn thing, but the sound and the muzzle flash could certainly signal where we were to the other zombies. I turned and inspected Chuck and quickly spotted his nunchucks. I had a better chance of busting myself in the nuts if I attempted to take the zombie out with those, so I kept looking.
He still had the grenades, but those were a last resort. I finally discovered a nasty looking long bladed knife strapped to his leg. I pulled it free from the scabbard and stood up, ready to take on the zombie. Really, I wasn’t ready, but they say motivation is the key to winning, so I fooled myself into thinking I was ready.
It was ten feet away and closing the gap in halting steps forward. Viewing via the night vision goggles spared me the technicolor gore coating its face, neck, and chest, but I could swear I saw it still gnawing on a finger that stuck half out its mouth. I wondered if it was the giant’s, but determined that it was best to put thoughts like that out my head.
I decided on a one-two combination attack. The first strike would the be butt of my rifle. I pulled the rifle back, timing my strike to coincide with the zombies approach. The zombie took one long step, followed by a second smaller broken step, and I jumped forward to meet it, thrusting the butt of my rifle directly into its face. The impact resulted in a sickening crunching of bone as the butt shattered the thing’s nose. On impact, the finger that it been chewing on popped free and I considered that a small victory.
The zombie stumbled backward and fell onto the ground. I could have used the rifle to finish it off, but instead grabbed the knife and straddled the undead thing and bought the knife down, using my weight to drive the blade into the zombies eye socket and into its brain. Just for good measure, I shook the handle to scramble things up in there.
It’s feet jerked spasmodically for a few seconds, but then went still.
Feeling a little too much self-satisfaction, I examined my handiwork for a moment. When I looked up, I nearly gasped. Five more zombies were heading my way, only fifteen feet away. There would no more hand-to-hand combat. I tossed the knife aside and bought the rifle up and quickly pulled the trigger. My bullets flew true and took out the zombies, but our stealth mode was over.
I backed-up, holding my aim on to the mass of zombies that now took full notice of us.
When I got back to beside Rosalita, I asked, “Can you walk, hop, or limp? I can try to pull Chuck along.”
“You must go and take Chuck,” she said.
“That’s not an option,” I said. “We’re the Three Musketeers. All for one and one for all.”
Yeah, we were the Three Musketeers, alright. That is if one was a half crippled geriatric, one was unconscious from a gunshot wound, and the other one was scared shitless.
I took a quick look behind us to check our escape route back to the compound and discovered that it was no longer clear. About a half dozen zombie had somehow got behind us and, after hearing my shots, those zombies had turned around and were coming back at us. By myself, I would have little or no trouble making it back. Dragging Chuck and helping a nearly crippled old lady took my chances of making it down to near zero.
I considered shooting a path through them, but that would only bring more of them down on us. It certainly was a ‘damned if you do, damned if you don’t’ scenario.”
As I sat, deliberating my choices, a particularly quicker zombie tipped my hand. In life, this zombie must have been a runner, because he was wearing running shorts and a sleeveless t-shirt. He was also quite spry for a zombie. On top of it all, he was missing half of his left arm with a bone sticking out of the stump, th
e white of it catching the moon light, and gleaming in the pale blue light.
He was fifteen feet away and coming on fast. I considered trying to take him out hand-to-hand, but another one was trailing right behind. If I made a mistake and got tangled up with the first one, the other one could have me for dinner.
I jerked up the rifle, sighted the zombie, pulled the trigger, and blew the thing’s brains out. The trailing zombie was undeterred and just kept coming. I rewarded its initiative by putting a bullet in its face.
While all this had a momentary and hedonistic satisfaction, it really only worsened the situation. I took down another zombie in front of us and turned to look behind us. Dark shambling figures made course corrections and started in our direction now that the dinner bell had been rung. It seemed that every last one of them wanted to be at the head of the line.
This was one of those cases where being desired was a bad thing. A really bad thing.
“Grant, you must save yourself and run,” Rosalita said as she flailed an arm in my direction.
“Rosalita, we’re not having this conversation,” I said.
Chuck moaned and looked down to see his eyes flutter open, but his eyes seemed glassy and unfocused. “What’s going on?” He asked.
“The undead are all around us and Mr. Grant needs to run away to save himself,” Rosalita said, trying to convince Chuck of the folly of my actions.
“Hey man,” Chuck said, “I’m down for the count. Take Rosalita and make a run for it.”
Another zombie came out of the darkness and shambled in a very deliberate fashion at us. I targeted it and took it down. “I can’t keep going over this. I’m not going anywhere without the two of you.” The words came out ragged and almost desperate and I saw Rosalita flinch.
“I don’t think you have a choice,” Chuck said. “We’re surrounded.”
“I’ve got a enough rounds to keep them off of us,” I said as I targeted another one of the zombies. I got it in my crosshairs and took it out. Rosalita gasped and I heard a moan coming up fast behind me. I whirled around to find a pair of outstretched hands coming my way fast. I got the rifle up in time to fire off a couple rounds. The first shot hit the zombie in the center of the chest and knocked it backwards. My second shot caught in the chin, obliterating its lower jaw. Jawless and bleeding it just kept coming. My third shot took it out.
“See what I mean,” Chuck said. “It’s only a matter of time before they close on us.”
“The others will be here soon,” I said, almost pleading.
“They’re not going to make it in time,” Chuck said. “And you don’t have enough bullets. That I know for certain.”
“Well, I’m not leaving,” I said and I knew it came out like small child, petulant and stubborn.
“I think you are,” Chuck said and I heard a steel come into his tone.
“What are you talking about,” I asked as I peered into the dark waiting for the assault.
“I think its time for the last resort,” he said.
It took me about me about ten seconds to pull my attention away from finding the next zombie and really understanding what Chuck had just said. I slowly turned and saw him sitting up and holding a grenade out in front of him. He held it in a very clear display of his intentions.
“I don’t think we’re there yet,” I said.
“We will be soon enough,” he said. “It’s time for you to take Rosalita and make a run for it.”
“I can’t leave you behind.”
“You can and you will,” he said forcefully. “Once I pull this pin and toss it at the zombies there’s a good chance you and Rosalita will catch some of the shrapnel. We can’t have that.”
“On no, Chuck,” Rosalita said. “You must go with Mr. Grant and leave me behind.”
“Are you a surgeon?” Chuck spat out. “Can you cut me open and stop my internal bleeding? Cause I’m bleeding out inside. I can feel it. Even if I get out of this field alive, I’m not living long. Now, dammit, you listen to me and get the hell out of here!”
Even in the darkness, I could see a fierceness burning in Chuck’s eyes. I also felt an aching in my chest, tearing at me. It made me think of my grandfather dying when I was a kid. We were close and losing him affected me for years. I had only known Chuck for a few weeks, but I knew losing him was going to be painful and it wasn’t something I wanted to face, but the zombie apocalypse was a cruel son of a bitch. It didn’t care who it took and how bad it made you feel.
Two zombies stumbled out of the dark and I shot them down, but more were coming close behind them. Chuck was right. We were out of options.
“Okay,” I said. “You win. We’re going to make a run for it, but we’re coming back for you.”
“Deal,” he said. “Give me the rifle and I’ll give you my last gun. That’ll give me fighting chance.”
“Okay,” I said walking over to him. “You have another gun?” I asked as I handed over the rifle.
“You can never have enough guns,” he said. “Now, get going.”
“Thanks for what you did and what you’re doing,” I said.
“No time for gratitude,” he said. “Only for running.” He jerked his attention away from me and fired off a round of bullets. I heard the hard wet impacts and the grunts and crunching of bones followed by the wet, dull thuds as the bodies hit the ground.
“They’re getting close,” he said. “I’m going take some more shots to concentrate them on me. When they get real close, I’m tossing my little friend. You and Rosalita need to be the hell out of here.”
There was so much more I wanted to say, but there wasn’t enough time, so I rushed over to Rosalita. She cried out as I helped her up and it wasn’t from pain.
“Oh, Mr. Grant, my heart is already aching. Mr. Chuck is such a brave man.”
“We might be able to get in and I might be able to make a run out for him,” I said.
“You really think so?” she asked, perking up a little.
“Sure,” I replied, but didn’t believe it. This was a one way trip and that was only if we made it.
I looked over my shoulder in time to see Chuck snapping in another clip and ripping off round of shots. The muzzle flashes lit up the night sky like fireworks drawing the attention of all the zombies in the field.
I turned away and, with Rosalita’s arm over my shoulder, we started toward the compound. It was slow going as we made the progress of a team in a three-legged race. Rosalita held back from screaming, but each time her bad leg hit the ground, she grunted in pain. Despite that, we just kept going.
Chuck ripped off another hail of bullets and I looked back to see him nearly encircled in zombies. He took a pause from firing the rifle and a second later, the night sky was filled with a brilliant explosion. In the light of the grenade going off, I saw zombie’s body parts being thrown into the air in every direction.
It wasn’t a pretty sight, but it was beautiful in a way as it encapsulated metaphorically the epic struggle happening in our world at that time. They were relentless and we were determined. I wasn’t sure which side would win in the end. We, of the determined lot, had the odds stacked against us, but we never gave up. Those representing the relentless group were equally ferocious to prevail. We never gave up and neither did they until they were destroyed or we were dead.
It was my take at the time that they were winning.
All the commotion around Chuck had attracted a lot of additional attention as the zombies began to swarm in his direction. This was good for us, but decidedly bad for Chuck.
I turned my attention back to the path ahead just in time to see a limping form heading our way. It was a female zombie of an undetermined age. It looked as if part of her had been burned as most of the skin on her torso was charred and blackened. Whatever happened to her hadn’t made her any less hungry as she chomped at the air with her lipless mouth.
I jerked up the pistol Chuck had given me and planted a bullet in the lady zombie’s fo
rehead. What the fire had failed to do, my bullet did as she collapsed and didn’t get back up.
It was painstaking progress as I helped Rosalita along as I scanned for any more undead. The compound slowly got closer as we limped along.
A burst of gunfire sounded behind us and I stopped. I turned around to see Chuck firing away as the zombies bore down on him.
“He’s still alive,” I said, hoping against all odds that he would stay that way.
“Si,” Rosalita said as she crossed herself and did her best job she could do at crossing herself.
The zombies were so thick around Chuck, I could barely see the muzzles flashes of his gun. The light leaked between and around the limbs of the shambling zombies as they closed on him. It made me think of a young kid with a sparkler surrounded by a group of his friends, only there was nothing friendly about this group.
Chuck’s gun sounded and a couple of zombies toppled away missing the tops of their heads, but the rest of them maintained their goal of getting to him and having their way with him.
We stood, frozen, watching this story unfold, knowing deep down that it would not end well. And it didn’t.
Chuck emptied the clip in his rifle in an angry burst. A second later, a fiery explosion emanated from within the scrum of zombies, the fireball rolling outward and upward. I wanted to look away, but the spectacle held me spellbound as the light of the explosion rippled out from the center of the mob around Chuck. Zombie parts and pieces flew into the sky and across the field and Chuck was gone.
“Dio mios,” Rosalita said as she slumped into me.
I would have slumped, too, but then we would have gone to the ground in a useless heap.
“I can’t go on, Mr. Grant,” Rosalita said, her voice soft and wet.
“You have to,” I said firmly, withholding any anger. “Chuck’s sacrifice has to mean something.”
She looked me in the eyes, tears streaming down her cheeks, and then she nodded. She took the first step toward the compound and I took the next. If someone were to compare our progress to the tortoise and the hare, we would have definitely been in tortoise territory.
Forget The Zombies (Book 3): Forget America Page 11
