by R. J. Spears
But nobody came and any hope I had started to have faded like a morning mist dissolved by the heat of the sun.
With nothing left to do, I drifted into a very dark place. A place where my mind began to turn in on itself. In this place, a most horrible movie was showing, presented by my own vivid imagination of what Marlow could be doing to Kara. The images came in full Technicolor and in widescreen 3D. There was robust sound, too, flooding into my brain in Dolby digital quality, filling it until I was sure it would start streaming out of my ears. It would have started to flow out as blood because that was all my little horror film showed me, but that was impossible. It wouldn’t have bothered me if it had. Anything was better than the horror show going on inside my head.
The big problem was that I had no way to turn the projector off. This wasn’t a solo movie or even a double feature, it was an endless series going on and on.
Chapter 25
Escape Plan
Henry had collected nine other people as he went from door-to-door. As soon as they hit the first floor, he and Madison made their way to the resident rooms, rousing people out of bed. All of them were prepared, but he wasn’t sure if any of them were really ready. How could they be? How can you be ready for a firefight in the middle of the night when their enemy had weapons when you had none?
Two of the men, Del and Stanley, were in on the plan and ready to go despite their obvious tactical deficits. Del was a stocky man with broad shoulders. He also sported a mullet and spoke in a distinct southern drawl with a mouthy attitude to go with it. Stanley was tall and lanky with a narrow face and overlarge features. In contrast to Del, he was a taciturn man with slow mannerisms and seemed to be almost in some sort of neutral gear at all times, barely reacting to anything going on around him -- be it big or small.
Doc Wilson came along, too, but was somewhat bewildered because he hadn’t been in on the plan. It was hard for Jo and Russell to keep him on the outside, but he had been forced to treat soldiers as well as civilians. They figured the less he knew the better.
Del and Stanley each had a woman with them. Henry didn’t remember their names and didn’t know if they were their wives or not. A lot of couples lost their spouses over the past year. Couples formed up easily when there were little creature comforts.
Each one of the women had a young child with them. Everyone, but the children, had makeshift weapons with them. The men had clubs whittled down from two-by-fours with nails driven through their ends. One of the women had some sort of metal kitchen utensil with its top broken off, giving it a jagged, but effective point. The other woman had a broken piece of mirror, one end wrapped in duct tape to act as a handle.
If you met them in a dark alley, they seemed formidable, but taken within the context that they might have to face armed soldiers with these weapons and they looked almost laughable.
The children, a boy of eight years and a girl of six, seemed bewildered and afraid, but to their credit, neither one cried.
The last two to join their little night party weren’t really on the guest list. Mrs. Hatcher and Steve Hampton were unaware of the plan due to their bad attitude and the general cloud of mistrust that surrounded them. All the commotion had flushed them out of their rooms, but both of them looked like startled birds, fidgeting away.
Neither one of them were armed. Henry could tell they both were bewildered and more than a little afraid. Hampton said he was ready to leave the complex. He had always been good at telling which way the wind was blowing. Anything that protected his hide, he was always in on.
Henry couldn’t deny their invitation to join the parade. He figured it was better to know where they were than to have them running off to tell the soldiers what was up.
The sound of a single shot filtered their way and everyone jumped. The sound had a muffled quality to it, making Henry think that it came from outside. It had to be Mr. Schultz.
“Where are we going?” Steve Hampton asked, looking as if he was about to jump out of his own skin.
That was a good question, Henry thought. The original plan had them heading out an exit on the back of the building and high tailing it into the woods, but Mr. Schultz had changed that equation. He had weapons. The run across the open field was a long one, but the risk was probably worth it.
“We’re heading out the southside,” Henry said.
The man named Del broke in and asked, “I thought we were going out the north exit?”
“That plan has changed,” Henry replied. “Mr. Schultz is outside with guns. He’s the one doing the shooting.”
“How the hell do you know that?” Steve Hampton asked.
“She told me,” Henry pushed his thumb in Madison’s direction.
“How does she know that?” Hampton asked.
“Because I was with Mr. Schultz,” Madison said. “He brought me back to let you know what he was doing.”
“Come on, old man Schultz has to be in his eighties,” Hampton said. “What kind of half-assed army can he bring to the table?”
“A better one than you can,” Madison said and Steve Hampton’s mouth opened to respond, but he closed it.
“Are we sure about this?” Mrs. Hatcher said. “I don’t think the soldiers are going to harm us.”
Henry stopped in his tracks and their little parade came to a stop. He slowly turned back to her and asked, “Are you serious? Didn’t you see them kill Aaron? Jo was next. It was only a matter of time before they killed all of us.”
Del broke in again, “It’s time to stop drinking their Kool-aid and get a reality check lady. That Colonel is crazier than a shit house rat. We have to do something or we are all done for.”
Stanley spoke up, “This situation is not good.”
Mrs. Hatcher started to respond, but Henry put up a hand to silence her.
Footsteps were heading their way. It sounded like several sets. The squelch of a radio accompanied them. An indistinct, but muffled voice carried their way, but it was too quiet to make out who it was and what they were saying
Henry motioned for the group to head back the way they had come and no one protested as they moved back twenty feet, slipping around another corner.
The footsteps came closer. The radio sounded again and the footsteps stopped. They seemed very, very close.
Henry gripped his piece of rebar tightly in his hand and looked back at their small crew. Each person had a weapon held it at the ready, but Henry could tell that none of them were truly prepared. Deep down, he felt he was most likely leading them to a slaughter. He considered moving them back but was afraid that would make too much noise and draw the attention of whoever was around the corner.
A staticky voice sounded over a small speaker and said, “Guard towers, report in.” There was a short pause and the voice spoke again, but this time louder. “Where the fuck are you guys?”
Henry thought the voice sounded a lot like Corporal Lodwick. He had always thought that Lodwick was a major league prick.
Again there was a pause. A new voice responded. “There’s someone, maybe a couple of guys in the woods taking shots at us. We can’t pin them down. They shoot and move every time.”
Lodwick chimed in, “We’ll get some men on the second floor to give you some support, but quit being chicken shits and fire back.”
“Okay,” the second voiced responded.
“Team two, where are you?” Lodwick asked.
“We’re on the first floor headed for the front of the complex,” a new voice said, and Henry could tell that the voice was just around the corner. He also knew that if the soldiers kept heading for the front of the complex and that would have them walking around the corner right into the midst of Henry’s little posse.
Henry worked to control his fear by taking deep breaths and letting out slowly through his nostrils just like his dad had taught him. Henry had missed his dad fiercely since he had died as a result of a battle with the madman they called the Lord of the Dead. It wasn’t that long ago, but
Greg’s face had begun to fade from Henry’s memory. There were no cell phones or cameras. The internet was as dead as the world and with it all social media and online photos. There were only memories and the fearsome world had the effect of crowding out all those memories, causing them to slowly evaporate.
Henry drew himself back from the memories and the grief. He knew he needed his full attention on the small group of heavily armed soldiers that stood only a few feet away from them. The soldiers that would most likely kill them if they came around the corner.
Lodwick’s voice sounded again. “Split your group up. Two of you head up to the second floor and the others go to the third to support the guys up there.”
Henry listened as feet shuffled just around the corner and then a voice spoke. “Yes, sir.”
There was a brief pause, then the voice said, “Lodwick’s a total tool, but he’s in charge while the Colonel’s gone. Let’s go guys.”
The soldiers started moving and Henry’s group tensed up readying themselves for the fight to come, but the footsteps moved away instead of coming toward them. The group let out a collective sigh.
Henry put up his hand in a ‘wait a minute’ gesture as the group stood in silence. This pause lasted for nearly thirty seconds, then Henry dropped his hand and quietly said, “Let’s go.”
Chapter 26
The Tides of Battle
Maggie’s zombies clogged the doorway like a huge undead cork. Neither Russell nor Maggie could see through the throng as each of the zombies, eager to heed the electronic commands of their mistress, pushed and clawed their way into the inner room.
Muffled shots came sporadically from inside, but nothing stopped the zombie onslaught. Screams sounded, too, sandwiched in-between the gunshots. There were quite a few shots at first, but they became spaced out as the zombies filled the room.
“Yee-Haw, gettie up little doggies,” Maggie shouted, laughing as her fingers pressed the control buttons on her control vest fast and furiously. She moved up to within ten feet of her little army. The only thing bothering her was the intense warmth coming from the control vest, but she attributed that to the enhanced battery that Henry had installed, plus the heat of battle.
Once it was completely safe, Russell moved up and snatched the dead soldier’s weapon off the floor. It was slick with blood which Russell had to wipe off on his pants. It took everything in him to not look at what was left of the soldier. He did see a lone foot, detached from the body and that was enough to make his stomach lurch. When he had the weapon clean and ready, he moved off to the right to see if he could get any type of view into the room. He quickly discovered that the doorway was too narrow and clogged with zombies to get off a good shot.
Still, Russell trained his rifle on the door, just in case.
The zombie’s slow forward progress lasted for another two minutes until a rapid and loud pounding noise came from inside the room. It sounded like someone had a miniature cannon set-up inside. Moments later, the wall exploded outwards in single holes that looked like someone was pounding hammers through the wall, but only they were doing it at supersonic speed. The wall across from the room became dotted with holes. Seconds after that, zombie guts blasted back out the doorway and onto Maggie, splattering her face, neck, and shoulders.
What had been a surprise attack, was now a slaughter, but it was Maggie’s Army doing the dying.
“PULL BACK!” Russell yelled.
Stunned, Maggie stood silent, like a statue, her fingers poised over the control keys, unmoving.
“Maggie, pull them out,” Russell yelled again. “Do it now.”
This brought her out of her trance and her fingers began to move frantically. The back line of zombies outside the room did an about-face and headed towards her as she backed down the hall.
Whoever was inside, pressed their attack relentlessly. Arms, shoulders, and other body parts sprayed into the air and flopped onto the ground in bloody splashes, streaking the floor in red. Bullets flew through the wall and into the hallway. Russell fell to the floor, staying below the spray of high caliber bullets, as the wall into the room was shredded.
Maggie continued her full retreat, pulling what was left of her undead platoon back with her. They had twenty at the onset, now they had eight and two of those were missing arms and big hunks of their torsos. Fortunately, they could still operate at great efficiency with those deficits.
Maggie didn’t even turn and look for Russell, but backpedaled, sending out her electronic commands like the Pied Piper of the dead. They didn’t jog, but her undead troops moved faster than their traditional undead shamble. Russell saw what was happening and rolled against the right wall, hugging it tightly as Maggie pranced backward and by him. The undead shuffled down the hall without regard to Russell and one of them kicked him square in the face. Fireworks danced in his head for a couple seconds, but finally cleared as the shooting from inside the room stopped. Once it was all over, he trained his rifle on the doorway, waiting for whoever was doing the shooting to make an appearance. That is, if they did.
Russell’s bet paid off as a large, hulking soldier sauntered into the doorway, carrying a chaingun. He looked like he had just come from an action movie as a bandolier of bullets dangled out of the side of the weapon jingling against the floor. Russell didn’t know the details of military weapons, he just knew how to aim and pull the trigger, and he was pretty good at the aiming part.
“How about that, you undead mother fuckers!?” the soldier shouted in defiance of Maggie’s undead brood.
Russell knew that if he didn’t do something, he had about two seconds to live. So, he pulled his arms out from under his chest and brought his borrowed rifle up to an aiming position. He did this while not taking his eyes off the soldier.
The soldier caught the movement, and he noticed the threat in less than a second and started to aim the chaingun in Russell’s direction. The chaingun was cumbersome and heavy, and his pivot with it came in a long looping slide, adding another half second to the soldier’s actions.
Russell didn’t hesitate and pulled the trigger three quick times while still in the aiming process.
The first bullet bounced off the floor just a few feet in front of the soldier. The second splintered the doorjamb, but the third one hit the soldier in the throat, sending a geyser of blood into the air, spraying onto the wall next to the door. The soldier let go of the chaingun and it clattered loudly to the floor. In an effort to stop the bleeding, the soldier shot his hands upward, pressing them to the side of his neck, trying to make some sort of clamp. The wound was too great and his hands were not efficient enough to stop any bleeding. He tottered for a moment, then went to one knee, his hand still on his throat.
Even from a distance away, Russell saw the fear in the man’s eyes. They roved the hallway, looking for some sort of hope. Some sort of guardian angel to appear to save him, but none came and in another three seconds, the soldier slumped sideways in the doorway. He collapsed fully three seconds later, his arms falling to his side, and didn’t move again.
A tinge of guilt rippled through Russell. The soldier had just been doing his job. Following orders. Trying to stay alive, just like him. But it had come down to kill or be killed and Russell knew he wanted to live. Ever since the outbreak, he had been the ultimate survivor, and the trend continued. At least for then.
The same zombies that had just passed by him, came shuffling by him again, but not as urgently as before. And none of them kicked him this time.
Maggie, the zombie ringleader, came up the rear, her face tight in concern.
“What is it?” Russell asked, starting to stand.
“We have company,” she said in a tight and clipped manner. “Three very well armed soldiers coming up the hall behind us.”
“Shit,” Russell said. “Let’s get in that room and see what we can find to defend ourselves.”
“What the hell was that?” Jo asked as she, Kinsler, and Sergeant Jones jogged down
a dark corridor on the third floor. Kinsler had insisted that they move to the third floor to avoid most of his fellow soldiers. He knew where the sniper/guard rooms were and they skirted around them.
A series of heavy, pounding shots had sounded below them, feeling like giants were jitterbugging down there. At least, that’s what had gone through her mind when it happened.
“Someone is shooting something heavy,” Jones replied. “Probably a mini-gun.”
“What does that mean?” she asked.
“It means that your folks have started their little war,” Kinsler said.
“But the shooting is over,” Jo said. “What could that mean?”
“Win, lose or draw,” Jones replied. “We don’t know. The soldiers could be dead or be backing down. Or it could be your people.”
“My people aren’t backing down,” she said. “Not this time. We know our days are numbered with your crazy-ass Colonel.”
“Then someone won and someone lost,” Jones said. “We won’t know unless we go take a look.”
“Wait,” Kinsler said. “I say we are getting out of here. I’m not fighting my own men for these people.”
“What do you mean - these people?” Jo asked.
“Don’t get your dander up,” Kinsler said.
“Listen, we have to go down,” Jones said, addressing Kinsler, “unless you want to jump down three stories. I say we take a peek.”
“That’s not all I’m going to do,” Jo said.
Kinsler found himself caught. Abandoning a sinking ship was one thing, but turning your back on your own men if they are under attack is a whole different matter. Sure the battle had begun, but he was choosing to be willfully ignorant of what was going on. That was the coward’s way out, but he could live with that. As long as he got out. But if she started to attack his men, he had no idea what he would do. Of course, at that moment, only he and Jones had guns. Jones had the guard’s rifle and Kinsler still had the pistol he had brought with him on their little insane adventure. That left Jo with only the sharpened piece a rebar.
