Fortunately, all the sound and the fury of Chuck’s last stand garnered most of the attention of the zombies in the field. We only had to skirt around two wanderers who strayed into our path. Like moths to the flame, they moved toward what was left of Chuck, the small fires from the explosion catching their eyes, becoming irresistible.
The compound was almost within reach when the sounds of gunfire came from the southwest corner near some buildings down there. A brief volley of shots were fired and another set followed. This pattern repeated as I guessed a minor firefight was going on. “Let’s go that way,” as I made a course correction toward the firefight.
“But there is gunfire that way,” Rosalita said.
“Since it’s highly unlikely that they Jeb;s people aren’t fighting among themselves, I could only guess that it was our people making trouble.”
She got it and nodded her head. With our latest change in destination, we still had about a hundred yards to go, but we plodded along. The closer we got, the louder the sound of the gunfire became. I gripped my pistol for reassurance, but knew I only had a few rounds left and one extra clip. If we got into a protracted firefight, things were not going to go well for us.
I could see figures moving in the dark toward the southeast end of the compound. Most of them had guns. Between the buildings, I could see other shadowy figures moving, jockeying for position and firing at the people heading that way. These figures fired judiciously, only popping off a couple shots at a time. Each burst would freeze the approaching figures.
It was my best guess that those moving southwest were Jeb’s people and the ones defending the area were our people. I certainly hoped I was right because I pulled out my gun and started targeting Jeb’s people. It sort of felt unfair because I could tell they were completely focused on the other people at the south end of the compound and were oblivious to anything else.
Fuck it, I thought and fired. There was nothing fair about how they had treated us.
I popped off two quicks and a silhouette moving slowly between two buildings grunted and fell face down in the grass.
It didn’t get back up. That’s when I realized the folly of my actions. They were moving among the cover of buildings while Rosalita and I were standing in an open field.
Another dark figure swiveled and opened up on us, their muzzle flashes spraying angrily in our direction. Bullets whizzed by us as I grabbed Rosalita and yanked us to the ground. Rosalita shrieked in surprise as we went down.
“Stay down,” I said as a bullet hit just inches in front of us kicking dirt into my face.
I don’t know how she did it while lying face down, but I’m sure Rosalita crossed herself and said, “Si, Mr. Grant.”
Slowly rising, I bought my gun up and aimed toward where the last set of shots came from. I was barely two feet off the ground when the person opened up again, but I held my ground and fired directly into line of fire. I clicked off three quick shots and the firing stopped when the figure slumped back against a building and then fell to the ground.
Another volley of shots came from the southwest area and whoever had noticed me firing earlier now had their hands full giving Rosalita and me some breathing space. I rose to one knee and scanned the compound, but only spotted people moving too far away for me to have an effective shot. Besides, I only had two shots left in this clip.
I continued looking for targets when I felt a slight tug on my arm. I shook it off.
“Mr. Grant, los muertos,” she said.
“What?” I asked, slightly annoyed.
She tugged again, but this time more insistently. “The zombies!”
That’s when I got and whirled around. Drawn in by the gunfire were a dozen zombies and all of them were heading toward the fun. Too bad, Rosalita and I were between them and the fun.
There were three choices. One was to lie low and hope they passed. The second was to fire on them and hope to take them out. The last was to make a run for the end of the compound.
In weighing these options, I quickly discarded choices two and three. My ammunition level was low and who was to know there wasn’t a whole another set of them coming up just behind this group. As for option three, Rosalita wasn’t even close to be up to running.
So, I ducked down and got beside her. “We’re going to stay right here and hope they pass. So, let’s be very, very quiet.”
“Si,” Rosalita said, but I could hear a tremor in her voice.
I was surprised I wasn’t all out warbling because I was so scared.
Gun shots exchanged in the compound and I hoped they offered enough of an enticement for the undead that they would pass by us. Yes, they were predictable in that they tended to go for the loudest sounds and brightest objects, but sometimes they went off script. If one of them decided to inspect that funny looking lump in the field, then we were probably screwed.
Playing the waiting games was torture. Giving ourselves up to the fates was bad enough, but I also knew that my friends were battling for their lives and there was nothing I could do about it.
Well, nothing that probably wouldn’t get Rosalita and me killed.
There was another exchange of gunfire and then a couple individual shots followed by silence. I hoped silence was a good thing, but it could have just as well meant that my friends were dead.
The rustling of fabric against grass came from just a few feet away and got closer each second. A muted moan followed the rustling sound and that meant one of our undead friends was on its way by us.
Back in the compound, a new sounded erupted. It was a deep roaring mechanical sound making me think of a Godzilla. It roared three times and a volley of shots came next, but the roar persisted. In fact, it sounded like it was getting louder.
The moaning came closer and I slowly moved my neck to allow me to look down my body and behind me. A dark shambling figure was about ten feet behind our location, surveying the area. I couldn’t tell if it was looking at us or past us.
Taking a chance, I slowly rolled in such a way to free my arm to aim back at the zombie. It must have caught my movement because it sprung into action and awkwardly stutter stepped toward us.
So much for staying in stealth mode.
The roaring got louder and seemingly closer, but I blocked it out to focus on the approaching zombie.
“Whatever happens, stay down,” I whispered to Rosalita.
The zombie hit the five feet mark and I pulled the trigger. My first bullet hit it in the shoulder and spun it slightly, but it shrugged it off and kept coming. I made my second shot count and put a bullet in its brain pan. It toppled over backwards. I popped up and looked from where it had come from and four more zombies were heading our way.
Frantically, I felt around my pockets and found the clip Chuck had given me. I ejected the first one and slammed the new one home, ready for the next wave as I rose to one knee, conspicuously leaving me sticking out just above the tall grass.
Rosalita tugged at my leg. I shook her off and took aim on the closest zombie.
She grabbed my leg and shook it.
“What is it?” I said, trying not to let my annoyance show.
“The truck, Mr. Grant,” she said, “it’s coming.”
I took a moment to look around and saw the source of all the roaring. A semi-trailer shot out of the southwest side of the compound and was doing a large wide loop across the field. Bullet hits sparked like fireflies off the cab and the trailer. It continued in its arc and slowly, like the Titanic, turned in our direction its headlights hitting us square on.
That meant whoever was driving saw me. I hoped that was a good thing.
Of course, it also meant that I was lit up like a Fourth of July fireworks celebration and I’m sure the zombies loved that. No more needle in a haystack stack searching for us now that we were clearly illuminated in the headlights. But they weren’t the only ones happy about it.
A bullet whizzed over my head and flew into the night.
It
was at that point that I think I felt the most vulnerable I had ever felt in my life. On one side, I had a set of hungry zombies heading my way. Behind me was a group of wackos trying to shoot me dead. And coming up on my right was a killer 18-wheeler ready to squish me flat.
Oh, let the good times roll.
I doubted the shooters could hit me at that point. The truck was a hundred yards away, so I decided to focus on the most immediate danger.
The four closest zombies were around ten feet away. I targeted the closest one and spoke quietly and deliberately to Rosalita.
“Listen, we’re sort of stuck out here in the middle of no man’s land. If things get really bad, I’m going to run and draw the zombies away from you. Sorry to leave you, but it could come down to that. If it does, lay low for a few minutes and crawl to the woods to the south.”
“Mr. Grant, you should make a run for it now, while there is still time.”
“Oh Rosalita, that time has come and gone.”
I squeezed off my first shot and the first zombie took a bullet right in the bridge of its nose. One down, three to go. Wait, no, make that five. Two more just came into the light coming from the truck.
Speaking of the truck; its engine was getting louder and closer by the second.
Another bullet whizzed by me, but I did my best to ignore it. (Let me tell you, ignoring someone shooting at you is a lot harder than you think.)
I aimed at the next zombie and shot it through the eye. I made a slow pivot and targeted the trailing zombie. I took aim, exhaled and pulled the trigger. The shot was perfect for me, but not so good for the zombie as its brains spilled onto the grass behind it.
Two more zombies came to the party just behind this group and I was wondering if I would have to start considering making my run away from Rosalita. That’s when whoever was driving the truck flashed its brights at me.
I had no idea what that meant. It could mean that he had me dead to rights and was just letting me know that I was about to become road meat, but only in the middle of a field. I only knew that I would know the driver’s true intent very soon.
That was when I felt a sharp pain in my left arm. It felt like someone punched me there and the impact knocked me off balance. I tried to stay upright but spilled onto the grass.
“Mr. Grant!” Rosalita screamed.
I pushed myself up on my good arm and said, “I’m okay. I’m okay.”
To be honest, I had no idea how I was, but it seemed to be the best thing to say at the time.
The intensity of the lights from the truck had just about reached supernova proportions as it barreled down on us. Another bullet whistled by me, but I ignored it because a zombie had an arm out and was reaching for me only a few feet away. I bought my up arm to fire, but discovered that I must have dropped my gun in the grass when I was shot.
How silly of me.
The truck’s lights kicked to the right a bit and the next thing I knew the side of an eighteen wheeler, tractor trailer and all, whizzed by me, just inches from my face.
While it missed me, Mr. Zombie didn’t fair as well. The grilled smacked him about twenty feet away. I heard the driver slam on the brakes and the truck went into an uncontrolled skid, sliding sideways and nearly jackknifing. Somehow the driver got it under control as the trailer, a large livestock transport whipped around, pulled the cab so that it ended up facing me.
There was only one driver in the world that I knew was good enough, and crazy enough to pull a stunt like that off.
“Get up, Rosalita,” I said and extended my good hand to her.
“What?” she said, not understanding.
“We’re getting out of here.”
The truck huffed and puffed and the driver slammed it into gear. It charged in our direction. I heard gunshots behind us and saw the sparks of bullet impacts on the truck, but it just kept coming, gathering speed.
Rosalita grabbed my hand and I pulled her to her feet. She leaned into me and we stood together, bathed in headlights of the truck as it headed our way.
Rosalita said, “How do you know they won’t run us over?”
“Trust me,” I said, wrapping my arm around her and pulling her tight.
A bullet shot past us, whistling away on its deadly path, but went quietly into the night. The truck slowed and a few seconds later, the driver hit the brakes hard. The truck wavered on its path and started to slide on the grass, tottering back and forth. At one moment, the headlights shone directly on us and I was sure we were about to get an up-close and personal view of the grill of the truck. The truck grew bigger and I felt my legs turn to rubber. There’s be no running this time.
“Come on, Joni,” I said under my breath, “don’t run over us now.”
Somehow, the driver got the truck under control and diverted the truck away from us.
Like a huge ship gliding on the ocean waves, the truck slid past us, just inches away, eclipsing our view of the compound. The driver expertly bought the beast to stop and almost immediately, a door popped open on the side of the trailer and Jay stuck his head out.
“Grant, my man, groovy to see you,” he said.
Rosalita and I stood there, frozen in place, unable to move.
Randell popped his head out the door and said, “Grant, we need to get going. Do you need help with Rosalita?”
That broke the spell. Well that and the spray of bullets from the compound that pinged off the other side of the truck. I pulled Rosalita forward and Randell stepped out of the trailer and helped me get her in the door.
As soon as I got inside, Robbie moved up to beside me and asked, “Where’s Chuck?”
Something in my gut clenched up and I was unable to speak, so I just shook my head.
“Where’s Carla?” Jessica asked, her eyes wide with fear. “Is she dead, too?”
“No,” I quickly said “She decided to go off on her own.”
I don’t know if that answer was really any better.
Someone at the front of the trailer banged on the front wall. I turned my head in that direction and saw Dave about to slap his hand on the wall again giving the signal that we were aboard. The truck lurched forward and we were all knocked off balance. I reached out and steadied myself as the truck picked up steam.
Bullets clanged off the side of the trailer, so ducked down. It was then I noticed the dark shapes of bodies lying on the floor. One of the shapes was boy sized and the sinking feeling I had just seconds before amplified to an exponential level.
“Is everyone alright?” I asked, practically shouting.
Randell must have noticed the panic in my tone and said, “Yeah, yeah, we just had everybody lie down while we were being shot at.”
The boy shape moved and I saw Martin’s face caught in a moonbeam shining through one of the slats. He smiled and said, “I’m glad we were able to get you, Grant.”
“I’m glad to see you, buddy,” I said, smiling back. While the overwhelming fear was gone, I still felt caught up in its aftermath. Mixing those two intense emotions, fear and joy, nearly brought me to tears. Losing Chuck was hard enough. I’m not sure I could have survived if we had lost Martin. I guess everyone has their limits.
The rain of bullets peppered the back of the truck as we rumbled across the field.
“Do we have any guns?” I asked Randell.
“We have a few,” he said, “but we’re really low on ammo.”
“If they follow us, we may need something to keep them back.”
I looked around the trailer for anything we could use when my eyes spotted a familiar duffel bag. “Where’d that come from?” I asked,
“I found it in the back of our bus,” Dave said stepping up next to me. “When we were looking for something to drive out, I checked out the bus, but it was out of gas and the radiator was still wrecked. I remembered Chuck’s duffle bag and grabbed it.”
“Good thinking,” I said. “But did you open it?”
“No. Things got pretty hairy when Jeb�
�s people attacked. I just grabbed it and ran. That thing is as heavy a mother f--.” He stopped and looked back at Martin and Jessica. “Heavy as hell.”
“Well, you did a good thing,” I said as I shakily made my way over to the duffle bag. It was tough to get any balance as the trailer bounced across the field. I made it to the duffle bag and unzipped it to find all of Chuck’s stash intact including the grenades and C-4. The grenades could come in handy if Jeb’s people pursued us. The C-4 just scared the shit out of me. I pulled out a pistol, and jammed it in my waistband and grabbed a rifle. For good measure, I grabbed a grenade, but hoped I wouldn’t have to use it.
I moved to the back of the trailer and watched out the back to see if any of Jeb’s people decided to follow us, ready to toss a grenade or take some shots at them, but it looked like that they had enough and decided to stay put.
There are too many ways to describe how Joni drove in our escape. Like a bat out of hell would be too pedestrian. Maybe a pterodactyl out of the nine circles of hell with each circle being its own hell would be more appropriate. Whatever it was was, we bounced around in the back like we were Mexican jumping beans. It was only after a few miles before she finally slowed down slower than light speed.
I asked Randell how they got out and he said they were able to fight their way to the southwest corner of the compound. They were able to overpower a couple guards and took the truck. It had been a narrow escape and Dave had ‘suggested’ that they just drive the hell out of there, but Joni insisted that they come back for Rosalita and me. It was good to know that someone had our backs.
I don’t know how long we drove that like, but somewhere around dawn, Joni pulled the truck over and we all shambled out of the trailer, much like the zombies, but still alive. When I looked across all the faces, they reminded me of images of survivors of a plane crash. More than a couple expressions were quizzical, as if asking what the hell happened. Others looked shell shocked like soldiers coming back from a long and terrible war. In truth, that’s what we were in -- a war -- only this one just kept going, endless and relentless.
Joni came up to me and gave me a short, but tight hug. When I looked over her shoulder, I saw Dave giving us a heated stare, but I was too tired to care.
Forget The Zombies (Book 3): Forget America Page 12
