Joel considered my words.
"Look, man, all I'm saying is that it's not just the fact that Erik and his pals are in danger. What if one of those groups gets a hold of us? What about Christy? They'd turn her into an animal just as soon as look at her. Strength in numbers. What if someone like Tragger helped us out. Karma, man."
"So, you want to bank some cosmic energy?" Joel grimaced. "White people are so damn weird.”
"I hate to say it. I'm going, with or without you."
"Of course, you are," Joel rolled his eyes. "Then I have to go back and explain to Anna and Christy why you're dead, or worse, a shuffler, and I had to shoot you in the head. After I winged you a few times, of course."
"That's cold, man," I said. "I'm going."
"Christ, Jackson. Fine. Just do me a favor. Don't charge in like an idiot. I'll provide cover from close to the house while you do what you think needs to be done."
"That's what I'm talking about," I said and actually smiled. "One other thing."
"What's that?"
"That Erik guy has my favorite shotgun," I said.
Joel rolled his eyes.
We advanced through the woods being careful to stay behind cover. Turned out we didn't have to because with all the shooting, there wasn't anyone keeping an eye out for us. They were too busy blasting the shit out of each other.
When we got close, I saw something that made me regret my decision to beg Joel to go back. A fresh group of green-eyed weirdos, with a small army of Zs, approached the home from the side Erik and Scott had entered the building.
Joan and Thomas opened up on them, but the pair of them wouldn't be enough to stop the Zs.
"Watch yourself," Joel said and dropped to the ground.
He slid underneath a large bush and brought his rifle to bear.
Flames had engulfed most of the upper floor, and I feared that Erik and Scott weren't going to make it. Smoke makes you crazy. You can't breathe, and you can't see a damn thing.
Then someone ran out of the building and was brought down by a pair of ghouls. Gunshots sounded from the doorway.
"I guess I'm going to do what I do best," I said.
"Crack some jokes?" Joel asked.
"Crack some heads," I said in my best Clint Eastwood. I tossed in an eyes squint for effect.
"You know that Clint Eastwood was an actor, right? You ain't no Harry Callahan, that's for damn sure," Joel said.
"Go ahead, make my—"
"Dude!"
Then I was on the move.
I angled my approach so Joel would have clear line of sight. As I moved around the shed and along the low fence on the west side of the compound, I got a glimpse of a bunch of people fighting to get free of the doorway. Someone shot a ghoul in the head. Then a Z went down under more gunfire.
Joel went to work. The gun spoke, and a ghoul flopped over with a hole in its head. With the mass of Zs so crowded together, it was like he was playing duck hunt. I tried to anticipate and keep his line of sight clear but barreled into a ghoul and realized I could have taken a bullet. Jesus, this was so stupid. The bastard went down and managed to trip up a Z at the same time. I smashed the wrench into a zombie’s back and shattered his spine. He flopped to the ground and didn't get back up, but his hands scrambled at the grass.
Erik, Scott, and a woman who looked like she had been to hell and back, fought to get out of the doorway. I slammed a Z aside, and then ducked as Scott lifted his handgun and blew a shuffler's head open.
Then there was a break in the army of the damned. I pointed and yelled, "Let's go folks. Your friends are near but about to be overwhelmed. No rest for the goddamn wicked."
I couldn't help but grimace, aware that my face and torso were splattered with blood.
Erik broke away from our group to recover a backpack his friend Thomas had dropped. He tossed it over his shoulder. Then he snatched up an assault rifle, similar to the one Joel carried, and ran for it.
We fell back as a group and retreated toward Joel's position. That's when a pair of ghouls appeared. Long story short, they were shot, several times, by most of us. I put the capper on the woman dressed in a gray pants suit that looked like it had been dragged through the mud, then tossed in a pig sloth. She wasn't that much better looking. Her wiry hair had been coated in what can only be described as shit covered in more shit. She smelled like death. I was glad to make her match her scent. Bye, bye, bitch. Have a nice after-after life.
There were five of us, and that made for an interesting ride. Since Joel was skinnier than me, he was saddled with both Erik and the woman. Scott rode behind me.
"This ain't a date," he said as he grabbed my hips.
"Goddamn right," I said and started the engine.
Erik's girl looked like a wreck, and I hoped she would be able to recover. It wasn't just the damage it was how she would have to deal with things over the next few weeks. I knew all too well how being kept captive, beaten, and tossed around like an old pigskin felt. It felt like shit.
No time for chatter now. We needed to finish our escape before the mass of Zs and shufflers found us.
"Hey, man, this is a smooth ride," Scott said near my ear.
"It gets the job done," I nodded.
I revved the engine, and then roared off with Joel close behind.
No Knight in Shining Armor
We raced back toward Fortress.
Joel and I knew this location very well, so finding our way home was just a matter of navigating over memorized paths. What frustrated me was our slow progress. The ATVs were great for moving us over the terrain, but it wasn't like we could do sixty miles per hour. Especially not with our load of other people.
The woods faded as we took to open field again. We passed some abandoned homes and fields. One in particular tugged at my heart. A large fenced off area had become a graveyard for dozens of livestock. After being locked in without humans to take care of them, the cattle had died. Picked to the bones the carcasses had probably stunk to high heaven. Now they were just dozens of white mounds.
Had we not found Betsy, she probably would have been a rotting corpse as well instead of our morning milk supply.
We came around a low rise from behind Fortress. The old home bore signs of our work. The lower half had been completely boarded up, and we'd strung razor wire along the front path creating a barricade. Tin cans hung from wires every foot or so. If a Z wandered into our homestead, we knew about it in seconds. A smart force of armed people could have made a run at us, but we always had someone on watch with night vision goggles, one of the few things we'd escaped San Diego with.
A pair of gunshots echoed, and I pushed the ATV to dangerous speeds. I hit a bump and nearly flew off the seat but clutched at the handlebars. I came down, and my tailbone felt the impact, which would probably leave a bruise. Scott yelped but he managed to hold on. Joel had seen the obstacle and managed to slow the hell down, swerved, and then got back up to speed.
What had I been thinking, chasing after Erik and his pals. I should have been running back to Fortress to assist Anna and Christy even though Anna had told me they were safe and the intruders were nothing to worry about.
Didn't need a knight in shining armor, my ass. Anna and Christy were perfectly capable of taking care of themselves. Joel and I as well. What we had together was teamwork. The four of us hadn't survived the end of the world purely on luck. It took the whole group to keep us alive, and now we were split in half.
"See anything?" I yelled over the rushing wind.
"Not yet, but I heard those shots," Joel called back.
That's what had made my adrenaline race once again. Gunshots near our home.
We came around an old dirt road and pushed the ATV's faster, then cut across the field that had probably housed cattle and skidded to a halt on a section of an old two-lane street. I was off my ATV first, but Joel slid to a halt right next to my vehicle. He was off his vehicle in a flash and running for cover. I grabbed my shotgun, newly
recovered from Erik, and followed close behind.
Scott followed, but Erik lagged because he got an arm under Katherine and helped her. I motioned for them to sit tight, but Scott wasn't having any of that, and followed us.
The house was still fifty or sixty feet away but Joel ducked behind a large boulder and lifted his assault rifle. He peered through the scope and sighted along the perimeter as he used the rock for cover. I took up position next to him and tried not to get spooked.
I flanked Joel, and then advanced on the house using trees and brush for cover. Someone waiting up on the rise would be able to pick me off but, so far, no shots had been fired in our direction. Another pair of shots broke the morning air. I picked out the direction and kept my handgun trained. I would have to get a lot closer to be effective with either weapon so I let Joel sit on overwatch. One thing I could count on, if I was about to do something stupid, he'd have my back, as had occurred just a half hour ago.
Of course, that wouldn't help if I had a bullet hole in my chest.
Something crashed through the bushes a few dozen yards to our right. This should be old hat. Waiting for an enemy we couldn't see. Preparing for combat. We'd done it for months and, even though the last few had been relatively peaceful, I knew this could also be our last day among the living.
Several somethings made an unholy racket before the first Z came into view. It was still too far away for me to get an effective shot with the scatter gun. Bad shot or not, at least I'd have some range. Joel motioned for me to keep still and to hold my fire. Good planning. We didn't know what we were facing yet. Could just be one or two, and if that was the case, we'd dispatch them quietly. No reason to light up this whole area with gunfire and draw every undead asshole to us. Not to mention any potential humans looking to storm Fortress.
Another Z was close behind but got hung up on a long branch. The guy was covered in fresh gore that ran down his abused jean jacket and made a spectacularly weird Jackson Pollock.
Yet another Z struck him and the blood covered Z was loose. They advanced toward the street, and then hung a right. I shook my head because when had luck ever been on our side? The Zs actually headed away from us.
I remembered to breathe.
Then a whole troop of the damned followed those. They spread out across the street and shambled away from us. There had to be at least twenty of them, and as good as Joel was at dropping the things, I was not. We'd have been swarmed in minutes and forced to flee back toward the house.
Something stirred in the bushes across from us, and Joel shifted his rifle's aim.
Another Z stumbled out of the woods with his back to us. He hit a rock and sprawled onto his ass with a hard crunch. But like any zombie worth his salt, the guy was unfazed and struggled to roll to his side. Then he was being tugged back into the woods. Something thumped a few times, and it was quiet again.
Joel didn't move. He stuck to the side of the large rock like he was glued to it.
I shifted slightly because my foot felt in danger of going to sleep. Not too long ago, I'd had a nasty sprain that made me limp for weeks. Putting pressure on that leg made me antsy. I adjusted as quietly as I could so I was on one knee with my healed leg pointing back.
The troop of Zs continued their field trip up the dirt road except for one asshole. He must have seen something shiny because he stopped moving and looked toward the woods along the side of the road. Then he stumbled around in a half circle and came back.
The guy was freshly dead, and had the wounds to prove it. One arm hung by sinew and muscle just below the elbow. One of the other Zs took notice and followed him. She was a real keeper. Dressed in the remains of a pink bra, matching panties, and thigh high stockings, one of which hung by a thread along one leg. She'd been dead for a while, and no amount of Victoria Secret was ever going to help her look hot again. Half of her freaking face had been chewed away. Her tongue lolled out and slapped against her chin with each stride. A line of drool and blood dripped from her mouth and splattered across her cleavage.
Joel looked back toward the ATVs, and I caught his drift. There was an unknown presence in the woods across from us and a pair of Zs coming our way. Did we deal with the undead or wait and see who was at our twelve o'clock? I had half a mind to jump on the ATV and lead the Zs far away from Fortress.
"Sit tight," Joel whispered.
"Aye," I whispered back.
The Z couple wandered toward us, but they took their sweet time. The woman slurped and mewed deep in her throat. The male didn't make any noise except for his busted arm thumping against his side. I could make short work of these two with the wrench if I wanted to. But that would give away our location.
We waited. I shifted my feet again, but Joel Kelly was like a rock. He didn't move, just stared down the barrel of his assault rifle barrel and breathed quietly.
Something shuffled in the bushes across from us and someone let out a cry. The pair of Zs took notice and headed for the noise.
Now, we could go now while they were distracted. I wanted to drag Joel away, but I knew there was no way he would back down. Common sense, go away.
A figure moved in the tree line, and then faded out of sight. Something thumped again, and then it was silent again.
For all of three seconds.
The woods erupted with the sound of shuffling Zs. They poured out along the sides of the street. Clumping feet, white eyes, dangling limbs, teeth that were shattered or covered in blood and gore. It was a nightmare.
A pair of men fled, but one of them turned and fired, dropping a Z in its tracks. His companion, a guy with Asian features, bashed a Z upside the head with a crowbar. Thumbs up for the heavy metal, man.
The first guy, an older man with a long beard that sported a lot of gray, lifted a handgun and blasted a pair of Zs. One of them took a shot to the head and dropped the other to the neck. She spun around and flopped to the ground.
Joel started firing.
His AR cracked a half-dozen times. Each shot was slow and measured, and when he fired, he hit someone. The Zs reeled under the assault and fell away. I moved into the open, and took aim at a Z closing in on the guy with the crowbar. He got a hand on one of the Zs, pushed it back, and then swung, catching the drooling bastard upside the head.
Shit. Guess we were doing this.
I came in firing.
Predictably, my first shot missed entirely. Blame that one on my amped-up adrenaline.
My next shot popped a Z right in the side of the head. Blood and gray matter shot out of the exit wound and the guy, who was tall enough to be a basketball player, fell away.
The first group of Zs who'd wandered away from our location turned and shambled back our way.
Well, this morning just went from something peaceful to a situation where we might all bite it.
I looked around, but I didn't even see Erik, Scott, or Katherine. Had they deserted us?
I did a quick calculation in my head. We were about to be hit by at least fifteen Zs and there were five of us, two if our new friends had boogied. Even with our temporary allies, I feared that we wouldn't be able to take on all of the enemies.
I shot another Z and hit him in the shoulder. He spun so I stepped closer and blasted him in the head.
I unslung my wrench and tucked the shotgun under my right arm.
The first Z got a face full of metal. He didn't manage a moan, just dropped to the ground in a heap. I fought off another who managed to get her hand on me. I pushed her away and cracked her across the neck. She might not be dead, but I'd broken her neck, and she fell in a mass of arms and legs, which almost sent me sprawling, but I was able to recover. Then I swung to the right and unloaded a blast right into another Z’s noggin. What was left made me want to barf.
Behind me, Joel moved with efficiency. He called out his movements, and I was all too cognizant of them. If he yelled left, I moved left, and he dropped a Z. If I went the wrong way, I might take a bullet. Thing is, Joel and I had been
working as a team for so long it was like we were telepathically connected.
His gun cracked behind me, and each time it did it was like a gong. All I could think about were the Zs we were fighting and the ones who would answer the call of the gunshots.
The other two guys worked as a team as well. They moved around each other and employed a crowbar and guns. They fought a group into the woods swinging as they went and were soon out of sight, but I still heard thumps and gunshots.
Then Erik and Scott came out of nowhere and commenced to kicking ass. Erik wasn't afraid to use his hands and feet. Scott had picked up a large branch and swung it around, knocking Zs on their butts. Erik delivered a beautiful round house kick to a male Z, breaking its leg. It dropped to the ground, and Scott polished him off.
Then Erik pulled another move where he grabbed an outstretched zombie hand by the wrist, pulled the man close as he moved past, leg scissoring at his hip, taking the Z off his. He smacked another hand aside, and then punched a Z full in the face, shattering bones and making the large woman's nose a mass of mangled meat.
Behind me, Joel whistled quietly in appreciation.
"That guy's good." I nodded at Joel.
"Remind me not to get in a fist fight with him," Joel said, then plugged a Z.
We dispatched the first group, of zombies with something like efficiency. A number of them still moved, but they were on the ground, and it would take them a while to get back up.
The bad news was that the Zs who'd been wandering up the street before all hell broke loose were heading back.
I leaned over and took a couple of breaths. Swinging a large wrench sounded good on paper, but try it for a few minutes. Damn thing triples in weight. My arm shook so I changed hands.
Joel dropped to one knee and fired at the Zs. A couple of them fell. I dug out my 9mm and took up a shooter's stance, legs apart, arms extended, hands wrapped around the stock, and started firing. I emptied my magazine, and then reached for another. We hadn't gone out looking for a fight so I only had one spare.
Z-Risen (Book 5): Barriers Page 5
