The Gauntlet_Book Two in the Zombie Uprising Series

by M. A. Robbins

  "That's where we head. I lined it up from the roof. If we go straight through there, we'll hit the trail several yards in. Follow it to the left and we'll end up on the Old Seward."

  "Got it," Zeke said. "How do you want to get them moving?"

  "All we've got to do is find one and make it screech." Jen crept out from the building, past a few cars. Zeke stayed by her side. She crouched by the car and scanned the area. A half dozen zombies staggered back and forth.

  She whispered to Zeke. "This is going to be easy." She stood and strode out from behind the car. The zombies wandered, not noticing her. Jumping up and down she yelled, "Hey, zombie assholes. Over here. Fresh brains."

  The six zombies spun toward her at exactly the same time. What the hell?

  They paused for a moment, then sprinted at her. Hundreds more zombies stampeded from behind the building.

  Holy shit. Jen streaked to the tree line. What the hell was that? No screeches and they all still knew to attack?

  Zeke darted ahead and she followed him into the trees, pushing past needled branches and underbrush. The sound of thousands of footsteps behind her.

  Her shoes hit asphalt and she turned left just as a ninja-shaped figure disappeared around a curve ahead of her. Already breathing heavy, she pressed on, a stitch stabbing her side. She reached the curve and glanced back. Zombies poured onto the trail, hot on her ass. Not one grunt, not one screech. It was creepy as shit.

  She caught a flash of Zeke ahead and pushed to keep up, the muscles in her thighs burning. She dared another glance behind her and was relieved to see the horde wasn't catching up. But it wasn't falling back, either. One stumble, one fall, and she'd be zombie chow.

  She zipped around another curve and Zeke stood several yards ahead. He pointed down the trail. "Old Seward."

  He joined her as she caught up. Freaking kid ran as if he'd just woken up from a nap. Didn't anything faze him?

  The sounds of gunfire smacked them in the face as they burst onto the road and turned left. Trip and five others with him crouched behind the blockading vehicles, their backs to Jen and Zeke.

  The shooting stopped and the thrum of thousands of feet pounding the asphalt had Trip and his gang turning around. Two of his men took off running toward a restaurant at the intersection. Trip stood, his mouth hanging open as if he couldn't comprehend the scene before him. But it lasted only a few seconds as he shouted orders. He and his remaining crew reloaded and fired in Jen's direction.

  Jen glanced back and was sorry she did. Zombies covered both lanes of the road and more poured out from the trail, the trees, and between buildings. It was a silent flood of undead that would tear apart anyone in its path.

  A bullet kicked up the asphalt a few feet in front of Jen and her attention went back to Trip. A muzzle flash flared from the crazy asshole's barrel and the sharp whine of a bullet zipped just above Jen's head.

  I'm so screwed.

  33

  Zeke yelled, "I'll go around them on the right. You go left."

  She nodded and angled left. The thought of zigzagging to throw off Trip's aim flashed briefly in her mind, but that would slow her down and bring the swarm closer to her ass.

  The dump truck started up and rolled through the intersection toward the airport. Her breath coming in gasps, Jen changed direction and headed straight for the truck. Zeke raced ahead of her.

  Trip was now the only one of his gang not in flight. He gritted his teeth, took aim at Jen with his rifle, and fired. The bullet passed somewhere in front of her. She kicked it up a gear and sprinted around the truck. Zeke was already in the cab. She jumped on the running board and peered back at the intersection. Trip had abandoned his spot and was running toward the restaurant. His men stood at the entrance holding the door open.

  Jen braced her rifle against the shuddering dump truck door and took aim at Trip's back. Bastard won't get away.

  The truck bounced over something as she squeezed the trigger, and the shot went wild. She grabbed the door to keep from flying off, barely hanging onto the rifle with the other hand. Recovering, she took aim again. Trip was only a few yards from the restaurant. Most of the swarm was on his tail.

  She lined up the sights on his back, took a deep breath, and held it. A drop of sweat rolled down her nose as she squeezed the trigger and the rifle's butt recoiled into her shoulder. Trip fell, holding his leg. She'd missed his back, but he was screwed anyway. He rolled onto his back and emptied his rifle at the oncoming horde, which washed over him like a tidal wave and smashed into the restaurant's door, knocking it down. Scores of zombies flooded into the building.

  Jen opened the cab door and pushed in, jamming Zeke into Mark.

  Mark reached over and placed a hand on her arm. "I thought you were dead."

  Jen rolled her eyes. "Easy there, big guy. Let's not get emotional."

  "We're not out of the woods yet," Grant said.

  He worked the clutch and glanced at the side view mirror. Jen looked out her side. A good portion of the horde had turned and were pursuing them. They trailed the truck by a couple hundred feet at most.

  "How about putting this thing in turbo?" Jen asked.

  Grant shook his head. "Oil pressure's down. Black smoke coming out the exhaust. I've got it up to almost thirty, but it isn't going any faster."

  Mark frowned. "A lot of rounds went into this thing. We're lucky it even runs."

  Jen looked at her watch. "Just over an hour before the government turns Anchorage into a glowing crater. We can't afford to go this slow."

  Grant slammed a fist on the dashboard. "Pressure and speed are still dropping. At this rate we've only got a few minutes before that swarm catches up."

  34

  Zeke pointed ahead to the side of the road, where a building ended and dense trees and underbrush lined the sidewalk. "If Grant can slide the truck over to pass close by that building, we can jump into the bushes and wait until the horde passes."

  Grant eased the truck to the right side of the road. "It's our best chance. Everyone out when we pass it. Looks like the road slopes down after that, so I can put the truck in neutral and let it go."

  "But what happens when they catch up with the truck?" Jen asked. "They'll be between us and the airport. We'll never make it out of here in time."

  "We'll have to figure that out later," Mark said. "Right now, we have to survive this swarm."

  There has to be a better way. Jen looked ahead on the road, her gaze resting on a line of vehicles several hundred feet ahead. Perfect. If I can find one that starts and has keys.

  Branches from the large bushes scratched the truck. "Get out now," Grant yelled.

  "Can't take a chance on the zombies seeing us as they go by, so we've got to get through the brush on one jump." Jen pushed the door open and stepped onto the running board. Branches scratched her arms and neck, leaving red lines, with some oozing blood. She stuck her hand out to Zeke. "Give me your hand."

  He looked puzzled, but extended his hand. Jen clasped it. "Don't forget to go into a roll." Zeke nodded, and Jen tugged him out of the truck. He disappeared into the brush.

  Mark slid to the door and grasped her hand. "Good idea." She held onto the door frame and heaved him out as he pushed off with his legs.

  Grant positioned himself at the doorway and she grabbed his arm. "Ready," he said.

  "You guys lay low," Jen said. "I'll lead the swarm away."

  "What?" Grant said.

  "We're a team, and it's my turn up to bat. Just meet me at the airport. Follow this road and you'll run into it." She yanked Grant out and he disappeared into the brush.

  The truck had crested the road and picked up speed on the down slope. She needed to get off, but the damn thing was going too fast. She eased her foot down on the brake and when the speedometer dropped to fifteen miles per hour, she threw the driver's door open and climbed onto the running board. One glance at the swarm told her she'd have to hit the road running. If she tripped or slowed too much
she'd be a stinky-ass zombie in no time. At least till the nuke dropped.

  One. Two. Three.

  She jumped to the road and pumped her legs as soon as her feet hit the asphalt. Her balance off, she leaned forward and her arms windmilled. I'm going to fall on my face.

  She grabbed the truck door and straightened, matching pace with the vehicle. Her stride stabilized and she ran to the left. Several vehicles lined the road fifty feet ahead.

  Coming up to the first vehicle, a shiny new Subaru, she gave it a once-over. Flat tire.

  She bypassed it and moved on to a minivan. She pulled the door open and felt the ignition. Keys! She jumped in and turned the key. Nothing. Fuck!

  She jumped back out and darted for the next car, a puke green Ford coupe. Grabbing its door handle, she pulled. Locked. Dammit.

  The lead zombies were almost on her. She had one more chance. The next vehicle had to work. She was running out of time and stamina. She sprinted forward and almost stopped in her tracks. You've got to be shitting me.

  The closest vehicle, and the only one within twenty yards, was a dinky rusted ice cream truck.

  35

  Jen dashed to the ice cream truck, the sound of thousands of running feet reverberating in the road.

  The truck leaned to its left side, but all the tires were full. A sliding door with the paint-peeled picture of a clown lay open, and she jumped into the seat.

  Her hand went to the ignition. Empty.

  That's it. I'm going to die surrounded by melted ice cream sandwiches and nutty bars.

  She felt in the change tray and came away with empty candy bar wrappers. Leaning over, she popped the glove box open and pulled out registration paperwork, owners manuals, and maps. Who the hell uses those anymore?

  A bump in the back sent a vibration through the truck. Jen's eyes snapped to the side view mirror. A middle-aged man with black plastic glasses hanging askew and a shredded fast food uniform rushed around the back of the truck and toward the driver's door. Jen grabbed the handle and slammed the door closed. The zombie pressed his hands and face against the window, bloody drool dripping down his chest.

  "Sorry, sir," Jen said. "But we're all out of brain-flavored ice cream. Do come back again tomorrow."

  She searched between the seat and the center console, coming up with hair, gum, and more wrappers. "What a damn pig."

  A thump on the passenger side caught her attention. A small girl with half a tongue left banged on the window. More pounding came from the rear of the truck.

  Jen licked her lips. Another thirty seconds and she'd be surrounded and unable to move, even if she could start the truck. Pulse pounding in her ears, she checked the seat pocket, then pulled down the sun visors. Something dropped to the floor with a metallic rustle.

  She felt on the floorboards and picked up a set of keys. Heart pounding, she tried first one key in the ignition, then another. Fit, Dammit. Fit.

  The passenger side glass exploded and three zombies leaned through the window, pawing at her.

  Checking to make sure she had the last key right side up, Jen inserted it into the ignition. It slid right in. She turned the key and the engine turned twice and stopped. FUCK!

  She pulled her pistol and shot two of the zombies grabbing for her. Dead weight clogging the window, they kept others from climbing in.

  Two zombies climbed on the hood and smashed their fists against the already cracked windshield. Jen took a deep breath. If this fucking thing doesn't start this time, I'm putting the barrel to my head and finishing it.

  She twisted the key. The engine turned once, then twice. She pressed the gas pedal and it coughed, then caught.

  Jen threw the truck into gear and jammed the pedal down. The truck lurched forward. The zombies on the hood fell off and the two hanging in the window came along for the ride. She checked the side view mirrors, and a sea of undead filled them.

  The truck's acceleration sucked, but she did get it up to thirty miles an hour. A glance in the mirrors showed that she'd pulled away from the horde and was putting more distance between them.

  Got to slow down. Need to lead them out of the way so the others can get to the airport. Kind of like the Pied Piper.

  She eased up on the gas pedal and allowed the horde to get within ten yards of her, then kept the pace steady. A few zombies slowed down or veered off.

  Scanning the dashboard, she found a toggle switch and flipped it. "Pop Goes the Weasel" played. Jen found a volume knob and turned it to the max setting. The music blared from the roof and the zombies picked up their pace. Jen sped up to compensate, and watched the horde. None of the zombies wandered off.

  "Got it." She pumped her fist.

  She drove up International Airport Road, drawing more zombies from the surrounding buildings. She kept watch as some filled in the front ranks of the swarm and edged closer to the truck, causing her to reposition farther ahead.

  The urge to go faster and get the hell out of there ate at her. Seemed it damn near took forever to pass the next intersection, where more zombies joined the horde. There had to be a couple thousand of them following her and hundreds more approaching from in front.

  Got to get them off International so the others have a clear way to the airport. The first intersection was too small, but the next one, the Minnesota Drive offramp, would work. Six lanes on Minnesota, there was room to bring them all in after her.

  She turned onto the offramp and led the macabre parade the wrong way down the northbound lane, weaving between broken-down vehicles. Like ants, the zombies flowed down the ramp and through the grassy berms on the side of the highway. Almost a quarter mile down the road, they still came.

  Jen scratched her head. She'd have to get off Minnesota and take the back roads to the airport before long. The next exit was a half-mile away in the southbound lanes. That should be far enough to get the whole horde away from the airport route.

  She drove over the median to the southbound lanes and the swarm flowed around obstacles, maintaining its distance behind her. "Pop Goes the Weasel" started over again for what had to be the fiftieth time. Jen groaned. "I hear that freaking song one more time and I'm gonna let those things put me out of my misery."

  Jen's breath hitched. Another horde raced at her from ahead. She had to get to the exit before she ran into them.

  She checked the rear view mirror. The horde flowing over the ridge from International had thinned. "Yes!" She'd cleared the way for the others.

  Now to save my own ass. She pushed the accelerator to the floor and began to pull away from the horde behind her.

  She passed the sign for the exit. "Just in time. Thank God this thing had some pickup when I hit the gas." Gas. She looked at the gas gauge. The red needle vibrated over the E. She slammed her fist on the dashboard. "Really? What the hell did I ever do to deserve this shit? Can't just one thing be easy?"

  The off-ramp lay only ten feet to her right. She flipped the toggle switch and the music stopped. No need to attract any more.

  The beat of pounding feet sounded like someone's bass was cranked up to the max. The leading edge of the mob ahead reached the exit ramp just before her. She dodged several zombies, then hit two others, which slowed the truck. She sideswiped a few more as she navigated the curve. One more jumped in front of her. She gritted her teeth and plowed right into it, the truck bumping over the undead body.

  The road ahead was clear. Jen looked back, and she was pulling away from them. Pumping her fist, she screamed, "Yeah!"

  She lost sight of them as she went around the next curve. Just before popping back out on International Airport Road, the ice cream truck sputtered, jerked, and died.

  The horde could still be coming. Jen got out and ran to the intersection, counting at least seven abandoned vehicles there.

  She checked two with no luck and had just kicked the door closed on the third one when a throaty roar from behind made her heart jump. She ducked behind the car and unshouldered her rifle. The roar grew l
ouder, but it wasn't the roar of a swarm. More like an engine.

  A bright red Camaro shot into view from behind a pile of burned-out cars. It swerved and wove around the junk and debris in the road.

  Jen stayed hidden. Trip was dead, but there could've been more Trips out there.

  The last quarter mile to the intersection was clear, and the Camaro kicked it into to overdrive and zoomed down the road, then braked hard, the tires leaving black streaks on the road and the smell of burnt rubber in the air. It came to a stop in front of Jen's hiding place.

  The driver's window rolled down. "Hop in." Jen peeked over the hood. Grant waved and beamed at her. "It looks clear from here and we've got a plane to catch."

  36

  Thirty minutes later, Jen watched out the window as the plane broke over the Chugach Mountains. Prince William Sound lay ahead, and the small town of Whittier to the right. A flash of light burst from behind the plane. Mark took the plane into a dive and straightened it out a few hundred feet over the water.

  Jen squeezed the armrest and peered out at Whittier. Scattered groups of figures ambled about the streets and docks. Another dead town.

  Mark let out a loud breath. "Looks like we made it out of range."

  "When will we need fuel?" Grant asked.

  "Range on this Piper Cherokee Lance is about a thousand miles," Mark said. "But I wouldn't push it. We should stop every couple hundred miles if there's a place to fuel up. Never know when one of those little towns will be out of fuel or overrun with undead. Who knows how far the virus has spread?"

  A whale breached the water's surface a few hundred yards away. Jen pressed her face against the window and squinted. Just before the whale disappeared beneath the waves, she thought she caught a yellow tint to its eyes.

  An elbow dug into her ribs. She turned. "What?"

  Zeke jerked a thumb at Mark.

  "I'm heading to Biloxi to check on my family," Mark said. "Want to tag along? I could use you."