The Gauntlet_Book Two in the Zombie Uprising Series

by M. A. Robbins

  "Stee—rike," Jen said.

  The truck rumbled onto the road and Grant took a hard right, the force of the move pressing Jenny against the door. She caught a glance of Grant's face, and he looked the happiest she'd seen him. "Yee haw," he yelled.

  Jen ran through the possible routes to the airport in her head. The most straightforward route would be to follow the highway to downtown and take Minnesota Drive south to International Airport Road. But the smoke from downtown still rose thick into the air and the narrow roads and close buildings would make it difficult to avoid hordes.

  "Better go back the way we came," she said. "At least we know the roads aren't too bad up to Northern Lights."

  Mark nodded. "Good idea."

  Grant drove the truck through Merrill Field and onto Debarr. A few stray zombies charged them and were crushed beneath the truck's wheels.

  He turned onto Bragaw and drove down the middle of the road, the V blade parting wreckage and debris like the Red Sea. Grant pumped his fist when the truck's blade tipped a school bus out of the way. "This is working better than I expected."

  Mark waved his hand in front of Grant.

  "What?" Grant asked.

  "We can do a lot in this truck," Mark said, "but we're not invincible. We still need to avoid hordes and pileups if we can."

  Grant waved him off. "I got it. I got it."

  Jen sighed. Just when she'd started trusting Grant to not screw up, he was making her nervous again. But who am I to talk? I made the biggest screwup yet.

  Grant slowed the truck and eased around the big pile of blackened, twisted metal at the intersection of Bragaw and Northern Lights. A few zombies screeched and jumped onto the truck, two climbing up the back of the bed and another on the running board outside Jen's door.

  Mark nodded at the door. "Sit back and open the window." He took out his pistol.

  Jen leaned back and slid the window down. The zombie, a dark man with an eye missing, held onto the side view mirror with one hand and clawed at her with the other. Jen plugged her ears, and Mark's gun went off in front of her. When she looked out the window, the zombie was gone. She raised the window. "Thanks."

  Mark smiled. "I haven't had many easy targets like that."

  Screeching rose around them. Grant switched gears and the truck rumbled on.

  "Take this road to the Seward Highway," Jen said. "We'll have more room to maneuver there. Then we'll take the Old Seward to International. It's a straight shot to the airport from there."

  Grant gave her a salute. "Didn't we come through there on foot earlier?"

  "Exactly," Jen said. "The intersection was clear and the zombies were only moderately heavy."

  They plowed through a dozen more zombies before hitting the Seward Highway. "This ain't right," Mark said. "Where the hell are all the zombies?"

  "They're out there," Jen said. "I'll be happy to avoid them."

  A dead semi lay ahead under the sign indicating that the Old Seward turnoff was the next exit. Grant downshifted and eased the truck around the wreckage.

  "Oh, shit," he said.

  A milling horde of hundreds of zombies blocked their off-ramp. The mob turned as one and let out one hell of a zombie howl.

  30

  Grant let off the gas. "Shit. That's a lot of them."

  "Gun it," Mark yelled.

  Jen's breath hitched. This would be the real test to see if they'd picked the right vehicle. "Go right down the off-ramp, then keep straight."

  Jen braced herself. Grant got the truck up to forty before it plowed into the screeching crowd and decelerated as bodies flew to the sides. Blood and body parts shot over the plow and painted the windshield in gore.

  Grant downshifted, and the truck pushed through the crowd. More zombies streamed from between buildings, jumping onto the truck. Just like the damn convoy. They were going to be overwhelmed by sheer numbers.

  Yellow eyes glared at her through the window as bloody hands grasped at the glass and slipped away.

  Zombies on the hood blocked their view. A trickle of sweat rolled down Grant's cheek. "What do we do now?"

  "Whatever you do, don't stop," Jen yelled over the growls of the undead inches from her face.

  A muscular zombie on the hood slammed his fists against the windshield, and others followed his lead.

  "Get us the fuck out of here," Mark said.

  Jen checked the magazine in her pistol as Grant shifted gears. The damn truck bounced so much, she'd have a hard time hitting her targets, even at that close distance.

  She pointed the gun at the windshield. "They get through and I'm going down fighting."

  Mark leaned against her, his pistol in hand. "Save the last bullet for yourself."

  "I can't see shit," Grant yelled. He turned the wheel, and the truck ran over something on the right side. Jen grabbed the door handle to keep from falling into Mark. The truck tilted to the left and wavered for a second before slamming down, which knocked half of the zombies off the hood.

  "We're on the Old Seward," Jen yelled. "Speed this piece of shit up and go straight."

  The truck rumbled over fallen bodies, causing it to buck and more zombies to fall off. A half dozen zombies remained on the hood, the muscular one still slamming its ham-sized fists into the windshield.

  A crack appeared and spidered out.

  "We can't wait," Mark said. He aimed at the zombie.

  Jen glanced out her window. Only one remained on the running board. She brought the window down. "Don't shoot the glass. I've got this."

  A teenage girl in a midriff-baring crop top, her intestines hanging from a gaping hole in her belly, flailed her arms, trying to grasp Jen. Jen pulled the trigger and the zombie's head snapped back as it tumbled from the truck.

  Jen wriggled out the window.

  "What the hell are you doing?" Mark asked.

  She held her left arm out to him. "Hold on to me."

  He grasped her arm and she leaned back, her ass on the door, and aimed the gun at Muscle Man's forehead. She squeezed the trigger just as the truck bucked. Her round shredded his left shoulder and he lost use of that arm, but continued pounding with the other fist.

  Jen took a deep breath and lined up the sights on the creature's forehead. Sticking her tongue out of the side of her mouth, she squeezed the trigger. A hole appeared right where she'd aimed, and Muscle Man's yellow eyes rolled up into his head just before he took a swan dive off the hood. Jen took aim at each of the other zombies in turn and cleared the hood.

  Mark pulled her back into the cab. She fell into the seat and closed the window. "Take that, Clint Eastwood."

  "We're pulling away from them," Grant said. "Kicked their asses."

  Mark handed Jen a new magazine. "There weren't that many."

  Jen frowned. "There had to be a couple hundred, at least."

  "I figured four hundred, give or take," Mark said. "But there's almost half a million in the city. We could easily run into a swarm of thousands, and we barely escaped this bunch."

  Jen leaned forward and stared at the side view mirror. The remaining zombies had stopped chasing them. They were clear for the moment.

  The truck rumbled toward the intersection with International Airport Road. A mass of vehicles blocked the road, just past the intersection. Uneasiness crept into her gut.

  "Let's take this turn a little slower than the last," Jen said. "Just in case there's another horde waiting for us."

  Grant shot her a dirty look, but downshifted. He leaned forward. "Hey, this is where we crossed before, right?"

  Jen nodded. "We crossed this road to get to the highway where we picked up the Tundra."

  Grant slapped the dashboard. "That's it." He leaned forward. "But there's something different about it. Were those cars there before?"

  Mark pulled out his pistol. "Stop the truck!"

  A shot rang out and a muzzle flash came from the cars in the intersection. The truck's windshield shattered and fell in. Several more firearms bl
azed in front of them, rounds peppering the truck.

  Jen ducked, and a hole appeared in the back of her seat.

  Mark hit the floorboard. "Ambush."

  31

  Jen fell to the floor as Grant jammed the brake pedal. The truck's brakes squealed and it shuddered to a stop.

  Bullets flew through the glass and into the front of the truck, the sound of each round hitting causing her to flinch.

  Jen's mouth went dry and her heart hammered her chest. "I know what to do with zombies, but what the hell do we do with this?"

  Mark hunched over next to her. "Keep your head down for starters."

  Grant raised his pistol above the dashboard and fired a few rounds. Mark put a hand on Grant's wrist and lowered it. "You're just wasting ammo."

  This noise is going to bring a swarm and then we'll really be trapped. Images of the carnage at the convoy played unbidden in her mind.

  "Open your doors," Mark said. "Let's see what cover we may have."

  "What if they're on the side of us, too?" Grant asked.

  Mark shook his head. "They would've already attacked us from there. All the gunfire we're taking is from the front."

  Jen unlatched the door and pushed it open. It bounced back and she pushed it out again with her foot, using less force. It stayed open. The gunfire picked up and the door's window shattered. She pressed back against Mark.

  Grant got his door open. On his side was a car dealership with an open parking lot, but the damn building was too far away to make a run for it. On Jen's side stood a motorcycle shop much closer to the truck.

  Jen covered her head as chips of glass rained down. "What do we do?"

  Mark chewed his lip and peered out her door. "Grant, can you drive this thing over to the cycle shop without getting your head shot off?"

  Grant pulled his door shut. "Just watch me." He scooted up on the seat, but kept bent over, and put the truck into gear. It rumbled forward and he turned the wheel, keeping his hands below the dashboard. The firing stopped for a few seconds, then picked back up. Rounds tore into his door and hit the seat back. Grant hit the brakes. "If we turn any more, those bullets will be flying right into this cab."

  "What we need is a diversion," Mark said.

  The gunshots slowed down again. Are they reloading? Now would be the time to move.

  "Cover me." Jen jumped to the ground and scampered toward the motorcycle shop. She pumped off a few rounds from her pistol in the general direction of the shooters. Mark and Grant leaned out from the doors and laid down fire.

  Almost there. Bullets whizzed overhead and the glass windows of the cycle shop shattered. Jen dove for safety behind the outer wall. She pressed against the wall, panting.

  The shooting stopped.

  A syrupy voice called out from the intersection. "Well, darling. Looks like we do get to play again."

  Trip? Is this for real?

  "Don't be rude," Trip called out. "You can at least say hello back."

  Jen stood and edged to the corner of the building. Mark and Grant crouched behind the dashboard, shoving new magazines into their rifles. She looked at Mark, spread her hands, and shrugged. What do I do?

  Mark pointed toward the shooters and mimicked someone talking with his hand.

  Jen yelled. "What do you want?"

  Trip laughed. "You, baby."

  Bile backed up into Jen's throat. Freaking creep. "We don't want any trouble. Why don't you just let us go by?"

  "Not a chance. You still haven't paid your trespassing fine. And now you're trespassing on my intersection."

  A burst of gunfire punctuated his sentence, and the impact chipped the corner of the building, inches from Jen's face. She backpedaled and fell on her ass.

  Picking herself up, she turned to the truck. Mark had his rifle aimed at her. Before she could process it, the gun fired and something behind her hit the ground with a thud. She whirled, and a balding zombie that had to weigh three hundred pounds lay still a couple of feet away.

  Trip's gang started firing again. Probably think Mark shot at them.

  She gave Mark a thumbs-up and his eyes went wide. What the hell? She spun, and there stood Zeke in full ninja garb.

  "Hi, Jen," he said.

  She pulled him into a back-crushing hug. "I thought I'd never see you again. What the hell happened?"

  He pulled his hood off. "I took out two of them and they chased me all over, but never saw me. I followed them out here and stuck close. They'd given up on following you, but figured they could ambush anyone passing through the intersection. I was just leaving to go find you guys when they started shooting." He smiled. "Glad I came back to check it out."

  The gunfire slowed down. "I'll tell you what," Trip yelled. "You come over here, Girly, and the others can move on."

  Mark shook his head, his teeth gritted.

  Jen looked down at the fat zombie. "With all this gunfire, you'd think there'd be a ton of zombies swarming us."

  "They picked the right place for a firefight," Zeke said. "There are trees lining this whole intersection, and hundreds of cars in the lots that break up the sound and keep it from traveling too far. Any zombie more than a block or two away probably doesn't hear much, and Trip's gang cleared three blocks out before they settled in."

  Jen scratched her chin. "So we just need to draw a horde close enough for those assholes to attract them with their guns."

  "Yeah," Zeke said. "There are a ton of zombies not too far from here."

  "What direction?"

  He pointed toward the gunmen. "Past them."

  Jen smiled. "Perfect. You and I are going zombie wrangling."

  32

  Jen waved to Mark, then put up her hands, palms up, indicating for them to stay where they were. Mark's eyebrows furrowed, but he nodded.

  Jen holstered her pistol. "Take me to the horde."

  Zeke pulled his hood on and unsheathed his katana. Jen grabbed her axe and followed him to the back of the building.

  After looking both ways, Zeke sprinted across the back parking lot and into the brush. Jen followed him, glancing over her shoulder toward the intersection. The building concealed her from Trip's men until the last second. Hopefully, they were too busy with Mark and Grant, and hadn't noticed her streaking by.

  Zeke cut through the bushes and covered the rocky ground to a strip club without making a sound. Jen followed him and slipped on loose rocks, nearly taking a tumble. But she righted herself and joined Zeke on the back side of the building.

  They slipped around to the side of the building and stopped. International Airport Road lay in front of them. "We cross here," Zeke said. "Fast as you can. They probably won't see us, but if they do, they won't have time to get a good shot."

  Jen nodded. "Ready."

  Zeke peered around the corner toward the intersection. He raised his right hand, then dropped it. Jen took off and sprinted straight for a warehouse. The firefight continued unbroken at the intersection, and she pulled up at the warehouse, panting.

  This is the easy part and I'm already breathing heavy. Need to pace myself.

  "How much farther?" she asked.

  Zeke pointed ahead. "A couple of blocks that way."

  He threaded his way around shipping containers and abandoned vehicles. More industrial buildings appeared on their right, while a greenbelt, thick with fir and birch trees, lined their left. The greenbelt muffled the sounds of battle to almost nothing.

  Zeke stopped and put a finger to his mask where his lips were. "We're close," he whispered. "Some of them may have strayed since I was here a half hour ago."

  He pressed against a warehouse wall and crept to a set of metal stairs that ran to the roof. Rushing up the stairs, Zeke didn't make a sound. Jen took three steps up and stopped. She sounded like a freaking stampede.

  How the hell does he do it?

  She looked up and Zeke stepped onto the roof. She took the steps slow to keep the noise down, but took two at a time. The noon sun beat down as
she stepped onto the roof and joined Zeke at the other end, where he lay on his stomach looking over the edge. Her breath hitched.

  Between the group of industrial buildings, thousands of zombies milled around, packed shoulder to shoulder in some places. A giant warehouse stood across the way, its huge double doors wide open and more of the zombies lumbering inside.

  The growling of so many undead had merged into a hum. "You weren't shitting," Jen whispered. "Trip will shit his pants and run when he sees this many coming."

  "The only way to lure them there is to use ourselves as bait," Zeke said.

  Jen swallowed. "Yeah. Let's figure out our route."

  She slipped to the back of the building and stood, looking out over the greenbelt. They'd need a route that they could easily run through, but one that would slow down such a big swarm. She turned to say something and found herself nose-to-nose with Zeke. Startled, she stepped back. He grabbed her arm. "Don't fall off the roof."

  Heart pounding, she took a deep breath. "I wish you'd quit doing that sneaky shit."

  Zeke shrugged. "Sorry."

  She pointed at the trees. "The trail we came through earlier runs right through this greenbelt. I say we go for it."

  Zeke pulled his hood off. "Good idea. If we can get through the trees and onto the path quickly, we'll be running the trail with no obstacles. Most of the zombies will have to run through the trees and brush since the trail won't hold them all."

  Kid is smarter than I thought. "Right. And we come onto the Old Seward behind Trip and his gang." Jen frowned. "But it won't be easy. We'll have to run straight at them in the open."

  Zeke smiled. "Once they see the horde, they'll stop shooting and take off. I think we'll be OK."

  Jen put her fist out and Zeke bumped it with his. "Let's get down there and stir up a hornet's nest," she said.

  She led him down the stairs and to the corner of the building. She pointed toward the trees. "See those two birch trees right past that old blue Dodge truck?"

  Zeke nodded.