Jen threw the door open. "Follow me if you want to live."
10
Jen sprinted across the road to the video store, pistol in hand. The door was nailed shut, and she yanked on it, but it wouldn't give.
A second set of hands grasped the handle. Mark.
They wrenched the door open a few feet and ducked into the building. Doc and Grant followed moments later.
Mark pulled the door shut.
Jen eyed Grant. "Thought you'd go down with the ship."
The soldier glared at her. "I'm not abandoning my post. My orders are to protect the three of you and get you to JBER. I can't do that if I'm not with you."
The zombie howls stopped, but the ground vibrated and the windows rattled. It sounded like a damn stampede. Jen put a finger to her lips and knelt behind the window, peeling back the corner of a movie poster.
The Whiskey One gunner continued to shoot grenades at the horde attacking from the front, keeping them back, but just barely. Whiskey Two did the same, but the sheer number attacking from the rear had the horde creeping closer.
A tidal wave of undead gushed out from between the buildings on the other side of the road, washing over the two SUVs and the bus. All three vehicles were toppled and covered with the zombies ripping at doors and windows. The screams of those trapped inside were muted, but clear.
The Whiskey One gunner glanced back and yelled something down to the Humvee crew. A mob of zombies climbed the back of the Humvee, and two of them pulled the gunner out and sank their teeth into his flesh while he screamed for help. He managed to rip an arm away and grab his pistol. Bellowing, he put it to his temple and pulled the trigger.
A skinny bare-chested teen zombie dove into the open gunner hatch, followed seconds later by two more. Gunshots rang out and muzzle flashes painted the inside of the hatch.
Whiskey Two had fared worse. The horde pushing in from the front had made it to the Humvee's hood when another wave attacked from the back. The gunner unloaded his pistol and tried to duck into the hatch, but a tall woman with a breast chewed off grabbed his head and pulled. The gunner held on and seemed to be winning the battle when two more undead grabbed his arms and jerked him out. The tall woman bit into his neck, sending a plume of blood over the horde.
The driver's door flung open. A soldier jumped out and raced toward the video store, but only made it ten feet before a mob of zombies tackled him and he disappeared beneath the feeding frenzy.
The undead rushed the open door. Gunfire erupted inside the vehicle, but bullets were ineffective against the mob. Within seconds, the gunfire had ceased.
Jen's heart raced. The whole damn convoy was gone.
A zombie streaked by an inch in front of her window. She dropped the poster corner and fell back. Did those monsters know they were in there?
Mark stood next to her, his face pale in the gloomy store. Doc had his arms crossed and mumbled to himself, while Grant turned away from the window, his hands closing and opening.
Jen waved to get their attention, then put a finger to her lips. They had to be quiet and stay out of sight. If the horde knew they were there, they'd bust down the shabby old store's walls in a heartbeat. She gestured for the others to follow her.
She led them to the lone back room and pulled the curtain over the entrance. A sliver of light shone from the top of a poster-covered window and provided enough light for her to know where each of the others stood. "We have to be quiet and wait for them to disperse," she whispered in the dark.
No one answered. Good. They get it.
Something banged into the wall next to her and she flinched. Other thumps came from around the building. So many zombies out there, they were walking into buildings.
Three hours after they'd hidden in the room, the thumps finally died off, and Jen dared hope the zombies had moved on.
Something banged into the front door. Jen held her breath and aimed her pistol at the curtain. The others tensed up too, but they all relaxed after another hour passed and they heard nothing else.
Grant whispered, "We'll stay here the night. Move out in the morning." He stood next to the curtain. "I'll keep watch."
Jen sat in a corner and leaned back. Hours passed, and the occasional growls stopped. The sun set and they were blanketed with darkness.
Exhaustion conquered fear, and Jen fell asleep.
11
Light filtered into the room, landing on the curtain. Awake the past few hours, Jen had kept her pistol pointed at the curtain.
Tilting her head, she listened. Nothing but the normal creaking of a piece of crap building.
Jen slid over to the curtain and pulled a corner of it aside. The store lay quiet and empty in the dingy light filtering in through the movie posters.
She stuck her head out and scanned the room, then padded between the rows of empty, dusty video display cases to the window she'd peeked out from the day before. She stepped on a loose board and it squeaked. Her pulse pounded in her ears, drowning out any slight noise.
Taking a deep breath, she eased her foot off the board and peeked outside. The vehicles stood silent and bloody, the Humvee doors open and the SUVs and bus lying on their sides with smashed and shattered windows. Dried blood stains streaked and spattered the asphalt.
She turned, and Mark stood beside her. "We should check the other windows," he said. "Don't want one of those things to pop out from around the corner."
Grant walked out of the room bleary-eyed and looked out a window on the far side, his M4 strapped over his shoulder. "Nothing here."
Doc joined them, peeled back a poster on another side, and let an array of sunlight hit the floor. He peered out. Shaking his head, he looked back at Mark. "Nothing here either."
Grant had his hand on the front door. "Wait," Jen said. He paused.
She continued, "They seem to detect us by either sight or sound. So stay under as much cover you can, and for crying out loud keep quiet."
"One other thing," Mark said. "Guns are a last resort. If we run into any zombies, we need to try to take them out without firing a shot."
Grant scoffed. "So we're supposed to box them?"
Jen glared at Grant. "You shoot when you don't have to and you'll bring a swarm down on us. Or maybe you'd like to go it alone?"
"A sound tactic, indeed," Doc said.
"That's OK," Grant said. "Mark and I can knock their skulls in with our rifle butts." He winked at Jen. "We'll protect you."
Jen propped her hands on her hips. "I've had more than one of these things on top of me, nasty breath and all, and I've survived. How close have you been?"
Grant mumbled, "Just saying."
He eased the door open and stepped out of the building. Jen followed, then waited for Mark and Doc. The sun blazed and she had to cover her eyes to see through the glare. Nothing came charging at her. So far, so good.
Hunched over, Grant slowly stalked toward the lead Humvee, each foot carefully placed onto the gravel in front of the other.
Jen mimicked his movements. Although she made more noise than him, she surprised herself with how quiet she moved.
Grant reached the open driver's door and pulled his rifle off his shoulder. He leaned inside and checked the interior. His nose wrinkled, then he coughed, turned away, and puked on the ground.
I remember the first time I smelled death, not so long ago. Jen patted him on the back. "Deep breaths."
He straightened and inhaled. "I saw some things in Afghanistan, but nothing like that." He coughed. "And that smell."
Jen ducked her head into the Humvee. By the looks of it, the interior could've been painted rusty brown. The smell hit her: the death smell she'd first whiffed in the pit by Fear Mountain. It reminded her of the time her freezer went out while she was on vacation. Two weeks the meat had sat in there, and when she got home and opened it the smell knocked her over.
She backed away from the vehicle and the cloud of flies that hovered over it. "No bodies, just a lot of blood.
"
"Any weapons?" Mark asked.
She shook her head. "Didn't see any. Of course if they were covered in blood, I might've missed them."
Grant had regained some of his color. "I need to call and check in," he said. "The walkies we have won't reach JBER, but the radios in the Humvees will."
He leaned into the driver side and ducked back out with the radio mic in his hand. He keyed it.
"Whiskey One to Command One. Do you read me?"
Soft static buzzed from the Humvee's speakers. Grant reached in. "Need to turn it up a little and try another channel."
He straightened and brought the mic to his face. "Whiskey One to Command One. Do you read?"
A voice blasted over the speakers. "Whiskey One, this is Command One. Where the hell are you?"
Grant scrambled headfirst into the Humvee, while Jen cringed and pressed herself against the side of the vehicle, expecting to hear a chorus of shrieks at any second. Mark raised his rifle and took a shooter's stance, while Doc's eyes grew big and he froze in place.
No shrieks came.
Grant stepped back. "Damn volume was up too high."
Jen frowned. "What was your first clue?"
The voice came from the radio. "Command One to Whiskey One. This is Colonel Butler. What is your location?"
"Two miles north of the labs," Grant said.
"Repeat, Whiskey One. It sounded like you said two miles from where you started."
"That is correct, Command One. Two miles north."
"What is your sit rep, Whiskey One?"
"We were attacked by a swarm. Four survivors. I'm the only military member left."
The radio went silent.
Doc tilted his head and leaned toward the Humvee door. "Is the radio still on?"
As if to answer him the voice came back over the radio. "Please confirm. Is Dr. Wilson one of the survivors?"
"Roger."
"Whiskey One, is Captain Lupone KIA?"
"Roger. This is Specialist Grant. Myself, Dr. Wilson, Mark Colton, and Jen Reed are the only survivors."
"Whiskey One, your mission is to escort Dr. Wilson safely to the flight line at JBER. The last C-130 is standing by to transport him to Fairchild Air Force Base."
Doc put his hand out, and Grant gave him the mic. "This is Dr. Wilson. I trust there's room on the plane for the rest of my group."
"Affirmative."
He handed it back to Grant.
Jen nudged Mark. "I guess he's our golden ticket."
Mark smiled.
Grant keyed the mic. "Whiskey One to Command One, any chance of getting a chopper?"
"Negative, Whiskey One. The base has been evacuated and the only asset remaining is the C-130."
Grant spit on the ground. "Fucking great."
"Command One to Whiskey One, cell phone coverage is spotty in the Anchorage Bowl. Some towers are operating on backup and some are inoperative. You are expected to call in with your sitrep every hour if you have a signal. Use command cell number Whiskey Tango Foxtrot."
Grant sighed. "Copy. Out."
"Good luck, Whiskey One."
Grant tossed the mic on the driver's seat. "Yeah, good luck."
Jen glanced up and down the road. "We've been lucky so far, standing out here in the open. Better get a move on."
"We should scavenge the vehicles for supplies, weapons, and ammo before we go," Mark said.
Grant puffed his cheeks and blew out a breath. "Can someone else take the Humvees? Don't think I can do them. Those were all my buddies."
Doc put a hand on his shoulder. "I'll take this one."
"I'll take the rear one," Jen said.
"Looks like Grant and I have the bus and SUVs," Mark said.
Jen walked with Mark and Grant as far as the bus, her eyes moving, looking for any sign of zombies. "I really don't like being out in the open like this."
"We're right here if you need us," Mark said. He and Grant climbed onto the bus.
Jen approached the SUVs in a crouch. Don't want one of those things popping out at me like a jack-in-the-box.
She kept the pistol pointed forward and checked each of the SUVs before passing them. Except for a ringed finger on the dashboard of the second SUV, all that remained was blood and weapons.
The Humvee stood silent, its open doors seeming to beckon her. She paused and scanned the surrounding area again, but there were no signs of movement. Doc's feet hung out of the other Humvee's door and Mark and Grant looked to be halfway through their sweep of the bus.
Leaning in and kneeling on the driver's seat, she pointed her pistol at the rear of the vehicle and swept it with her gaze. Empty. While there were splashes of blood and a pile of entrails on the front passenger floorboard that had already drawn flies, the interior wasn't as bad as the first Humvee's. A couple of rifles lay in the back.
Something yanked her left ankle and she went down, her forehead slamming into the center console. She lost her grip on her pistol and it fell onto the driver's floorboard. Fighting the motes swimming in her eyes, she grabbed for the gun, but was jerked clear out of the vehicle. She landed chest down on the asphalt just before her attacker let out a shrill zombie shriek.
12
Jen rolled over and pushed herself into a sitting position. A soldier with the nametag Williams, stood over her, half his face missing and an eyeball hanging out.
Jen scrambled back against the open Humvee door. "Mark!"
A chorus of muted shrieks came from somewhere behind her. Shit.
Still wobbly, she pulled her feet in, but was too slow. Williams grabbed her foot.
"Mark!"
Where the hell is he?
She lashed out with her free foot, connecting with Williams' jaw and splattering blood and drool over herself. He released her and stumbled backward, but lurched at her again. Feeling around on the Humvee's floorboard with one hand, Jen kicked at Williams again and missed. The chorus of shrieks became louder.
"Mark!" She screamed as loud as she could. She had to get the hell out of there. Did they leave me?
Her scrambling hand touched the barrel of her pistol. She felt down to the grip and grasped it just as Williams jerked on her ankles again and pulled her away from the vehicle. Her shirt had come up and her bare back screamed from being dragged across the asphalt, but she brought the pistol around to aim at Williams' face. His yellow eyes locked on hers and a saliva-and-blood mix drooled out the ruined side of his mouth as he bent over her. Gawd. His breath.
"Do you kiss your mother with that mouth?" Jen squeezed the trigger, smiling at the satisfying kick and the way Williams' nose disappeared. The screeches sounded again.
She pulled herself up using the Humvee's door and shook her head to clear the fog. No time to screw around.
Mark was the first to get to her. "What happened? Why'd you fire?"
Jen gestured at Williams. "Guess he didn't want to leave his post. Where the hell were you while I was getting groped by zombie GI Joe? I called for help."
Grant ran up and almost tripped over Williams. "Shit." He looked away. "We were pulling supplies out of the back of the SUV and didn't see what was going on."
"We've got to get back to the video store and hide," Jen said.
Mark looped her arm over his shoulder and she shook him off. "I'm good."
Mark frowned, but said nothing.
"Grant." Jen hitched a thumb over her shoulder at the Humvee. "There's at least one rifle in there. Grab any you find and don't forget ammo."
Grant jumped into the Humvee while Doc jogged over to them. "As much as I'm a proponent of staying calm, I'd prefer to see a tad more urgency."
Still a bit dizzy, Jen jogged to the video store with Doc at her side and paused at the doorway. Grant exited the Humvee with two more rifles and handed one to Mark.
A zombie with a half-eaten leg limped into view between the two SUVs and screeched. The answering calls come without a pause.
"They're almost on top of us," Jen sa
id.
Grant raised his rifle and aimed at the zombie. "I've got it."
Mark pushed the barrel down. "No time. We've got to leave this area."
"What do you mean?" Grant asked.
Mark pointed to the lead Humvee. Another slow zombie limped into view. "These were probably the ones too slow to get far away after the last swarm."
Jen checked the road for more. "Mark's right. If these things see us go into the store, we're toast. Who knows how many are coming? Our best chance is to outrun those two and hide. Follow me."
She jogged behind the store and into the trees. Her head had almost cleared. Just out of sight of the road, she waited until the others had caught up. Mark handed her his extra rifle and Grant shoved another into Doc's hands, then pushed past her. "Follow me," he said.
"Why you?" Jen asked.
"I'm trained. I'm the only military person here."
"We don't have time for this shit," Mark said. "We need to put some distance between us and them. Jen, get us out of here."
Jen nodded. She pushed through the trees and tall grass, trying to not make noise, but it was hopeless. They sounded like a stampede.
The screeches faded a bit behind them, but growls came from ahead. She stopped and held up her hand. The others froze.
The growling sounds came closer, and Jen ducked into some brush, signaling the others to do the same. Ten seconds later, two zombies rustled through the undergrowth, heading in the direction of the convoy.
A minute passed. Then two. Mark looked at her and shrugged. She stood and whispered, "Need to be quieter or we won't hear them."
Doc gave her a thumbs-up, and Mark nodded. Grant looked at her, but didn't react. Guess who's going to be a pain in the ass?
She led them through the foliage and stopped when it ended at a set of railroad tracks. "Which way?" Doc asked.
Jen closed her eyes and pictured a map of Anchorage in her mind. "The tracks run north and south, so going north will take us in the right direction. The tracks are mostly out of sight of the roads." She added, "I think."
The Gauntlet_Book Two in the Zombie Uprising Series Page 6
