by Brown, TW
“Bigger jackpot than I’d hoped for.” Kevin opened the box and produced what looked to Heather like an orange, plastic toy gun. “I figured that I’d find road flares at best!”
“That’s a flare gun?” Heather glanced over, but only briefly; there were lots of zombies coming out from the yards and open doors of the dark houses of the dead neighborhood as she was trying to find her way out of it.
“Yep.” Kevin looked up from his prize in time to see a nightgown-clad woman with a few curlers still in her hair lurch out at them. He winced at the sound of the front bumper clipping the zombified housewife, sending the body spinning away. It took a double whammy as its back connected solidly with the grill of what he thought might be an older Volvo, bending at an awkward angle as the back of its head came all the way down to slam into the hood. He glanced over his shoulder to see the unnaturally folded body tumble to the road and begin squirming as it tried to figure out how to move in its new configuration.
“Which way?” Heather asked, leaning forward over the steering wheel as if it would help her see better.
Kevin took a good look at her. He could see the whites of her knuckles, actually a greenish tint in the light from the driver’s display. Her shoulders were bunched up, her neck seeming to be trying to retract in between them. The tip of her tongue was poking from the corner of her mouth and her eyes were squinting.
“How many times have you driven?” Kevin asked.
“You mean, like a car?”
“What else would I mean?”
“Well…” Heather paused, the look on her face condensing even further as she considered the question. “I’ve driven my uncle’s tractor, and there were a few times Mister Stanley let all us girls drive his truck out in the pasture when he was dumping hay bales.”
“Okay.” Kevin nodded. “But how many times have you driven a car…on a road?”
“Counting this time?” Heather shot a quick glance Kevin’s direction. The Suburban swerved just a bit in unison with her. She immediately turned back to the road and the vehicle mimicked the adjustment.
“Sure.” Kevin nodded, placing a hand on the dashboard to remain steady.
“Three times.”
“Pull up in that four-way intersection.” Kevin pointed.
“Why?”
“We’re changing seats.”
“It’s not like we have to worry about insurance or something,” Heather protested.
“No…just Shaw’s men rolling up on us,” Kevin quipped. “You gonna be okay if we need to take off and end up in a high-speed chase?”
“Good point.” Heather goosed the accelerator and got them to the intersection.
Both of them unhitched seatbelts, then did a bit of front seat tango. Once behind the wheel, Kevin handed the box with the flare pistol in it to Heather. “When I tell you, you’re gonna roll down your window and fire that thing into the air.”
“Really?” Heather asked.
“Sure,” Kevin nodded, “we’re a team.”
Heather sat back as the Suburban rolled forward into a cluster of zombie school children. She clutched the box to her chest, a big smile creeping across her face. It was the first time Kevin had referred to them as part of the team. Looking out her window, she could see the hint of pre-dawn light creeping into the sky.
“There are five flares in there,” Kevin said, snapping her back to the here and now.
“Okay.”
“What’s that say?” Kevin pointed to a green sign on her side of the road.
“West Main Street, two miles,” Heather said.
They rounded an easy dog-leg and could see the off-ramp that would take them to West Main Street. A long, arched overpass would take them up to a vantage point where Kevin could get a better look around. Light was seeping across the landscape, darkening shadows in some places, but illuminating their surroundings at the same time.
“We need to hurry,” Kevin said as he floored the SUV’s accelerator. At the top of the overpass he came to a stop. “Now!” He turned to Heather and nodded.
Hitting a button, she rolled down the window and climbed halfway out. Aiming the orange pistol skyward, she fired. There was still enough gloom for the flare to create a very visible blue-white ball of phosphorescent light. The brilliant glowing beacon slowly began to drift west with the morning breeze as it floated towards the ground. Heather ducked back inside.
Kevin was looking around, getting his bearings. Straight ahead was a huge cloverleaf intersection (well, a three-leafed clover anyways). But the overpass he was on was as far as he could go on this road. The sign above told him he was on Highway 79. The problem was the bridge immediately ahead, prior to the distant cloverleaf. Or…more accurately, the lack of a bridge.
“We’ll use the on-ramp there and double back down onto Main,” Kevin said.
Looking east, he could see a city skyline in the distance. It wasn’t terribly impressive, but it was still a city. His mind flashed back to Pittsburgh. His idea to swing through there as a tribute to George A. Romero had been poorly planned and executed even worse. This time, he was rolling into a much smaller city. But he also had a plan. As if on cue, he caught movement in the rearview mirror.
“There they are,” Kevin announced, and slipped the Suburban back into drive.
“So you think they saw us?” Heather asked, craning her neck to try and get a look.
“Pretty sure!” Kevin instinctively flung his right arm across, grabbing Heather’s shoulder as he slammed on the brakes and wrenched the steering wheel to the right. “Big, white Suburban sitting all alone atop an empty, elevated overpass as the sun rises, catching every piece of chrome on this beast and turning it into a giant reflector? Yeah, they saw us.”
“That’s why you pulled up there and waited?”
“We need them to follow us.”
“Do you have any idea how we’re gonna get out of here?” Heather was surprised at how empty the streets were. Everywhere she looked, she saw bodies, many of them had bloated and burst long ago. There was garbage; lots and lots of garbage. But as far as zombies…she didn’t see—
“Oh my gosh!” Heather breathed. Up ahead was a sign: Main Street Bridge. Dangling from every single light-post was at least two, often more, zombies. Somebody had taken the time to string them up. Littering the ground were several headless bodies, as well as bodiless heads. That meant that eventually, the strain was too great and the head probably popped off like she’d done to countless dandelions as a little girl growing up.
Across the bridge they drove, Kevin whispering something about being grateful for small miracles. The Suburban bounced and shook as it drove over the multitude of heads and bodies.
“Why?” Heather asked.
“Probably wanted to keep one way open into town from this side,” Kevin answered.
Heather frowned, puzzled. “No, why would somebody hang up all these zombies?”
“Oh.” Kevin’s voice was shaky as they were both jounced about. “I don’t have even a tiny guess.” He glanced up in the rearview mirror as they reached the far side. The city center of downtown Newark was about six blocks ahead. Only, it was as if somebody rang a dinner bell for the city’s undead because they were coming out from everywhere.
“Grab the bag and be ready,” Kevin said. “And hang on, because this is gonna be hairy. Ready?”
“Okay,” Heather agreed after reaching over and pulling the huge equipment bag into her lap.
Kevin floored it as he saw a caravan of vehicles pull up to a stop on the overpass they’d vacated a few moments ago. As they roared along West Main Street, a large building loomed in the distance. It looked like a courthouse or something surrounded by a huge park. A huge statue of some sort was a black silhouette as the sun continued to rise higher, just cresting the roof of the building.
As they roared through an intersection marked by the signs above the useless stoplights as, “W. Main St” and “S 4th St” Kevin yelled, “Hold on!” The
SUV power slid left. Immediately outside Heather’s window was some sort of emergency clinic. Parked up on the curb was a large, military transport truck.
Empty.
“Did they already beat us here?” Heather turned to Kevin, a look of fear on her face, “Are the bad guys already here?”
“That truck is empty,” Kevin answered. “Hang on!” Skidding around the corner, they turned right on Church Street and slammed on the brakes in front of a huge department store. Next to it sat an office building.
“Out!” Kevin ordered.
Heather saw a few zombies stumbling towards them. She had to trust Kevin. If not now, then never. He obviously knew something…had an idea. Well, she’d followed him this far…
“C’mon!” Kevin climbed out peeling off his flannel shirt and tying it to the steering wheel. As she closed her door, a loud explosion sounded from someplace near. She shrieked, causing most of the nearby zombies to focus solely on her.
“Down that alley is where we’re heading,” Kevin said. He drew his knife and cut a strip from the T-shirt he still wore.
Heather looked down the dark, cluttered alley. There were too many places for zombies to hide—and worse were those partial ones that dragged themselves along the ground.
“Are you sure you want to go down that way?” Heather looked around. More zombies were climbing out from the fronts of buildings up and down the street.
Kevin was at the rear of the Suburban. He’d climbed under it! She heard some scraping and scratching from under the vehicle. “Kevin?”
“Yeah?” His hand jutted out from under the idling vehicle, patting the ground. She nudged the sledgehammer close, wondering when he’d grabbed it, and what exactly he was doing with it.
“You need to hurry, those things are getting close,” Heather warned.
“Uh-huh, I can smell ‘em,” Kevin said. A solid tap sounded. Once. Twice. Kevin scrambled out, handing Heather the sledge. “Stow it in the carry bag and hand me the flare pistol case.”
Heather did so, watching intently between Kevin scurrying quickly back to the still-open driver side door, and the closing distance of the growing horde of zombies. The Suburban began to roll forward, slowly at first, but picking up speed as it headed down the street. The smell of gasoline snuck past the stench of the undead, and a dark trail of liquid followed the big SUV up the zombie-infested street.
“What did you do?” Heather asked as Kevin dusted himself off.
“I punched a hole in the gas tank, then I wedged in a strip of my shirt. There’s still gas leaking, but the shirt is soaked and dragging on the ground,” Kevin explained as he pulled a flare from the box, then handed the box to Heather.
“Where on earth did you come up with an idea like this?”
“Wile E. Coyote.”
The vehicle was almost two blocks away when Kevin ignited the flare. He dropped it next to the stretch of gasoline, then grabbed the big bag from Heather, pushing her towards the alley.
“No guns,” he said as they waded into the darkness.
He tried every door as they moved along. A few zombies had already turned in, and were stumbling in a slow pursuit. Something stirred in a pile of garbage as the two hurried past, but they didn’t wait to see if it was a zombie or simply rats. At the end of the alley they reached a solid, brown metal door. Kevin tugged it, not surprised to find it locked.
“Where are we gonna go?” Heather turned and gasped, nearly two dozen of those things were closing in on them.
“Step back,” Kevin warned and unslung the shotgun.
“I thought you said no guns.”
“Right about now, it’s okay,” Kevin chuckled.
A loud ‘whump’ sounded from out on the street. Several of the zombies paused, turning towards the new sound. An explosion came and Kevin fired. The sound of metal clattering to the ground quickly followed. Kevin yanked open the door, bracing for the possibility of a zombie stumbling out.
Nothing.
“A break…finally,” Kevin sighed and moved inside. “Great.”
“What?” Heather came in on his heels.
“Mannequins.” He shoved a pair of the plastic constructs over with a hollow clatter. “Figures…it has to be mannequins.”
They entered the darkened room, made worse by having just been out in the morning sunlight. Kevin pulled the blasted door shut, looked for a way to secure it, and quickly gave up on the idea. He took the lead, moving toward a slightly open door awash with the glow of daybreak. They came out into what looked like a dress shop.
“Whoa.” Heather paused, running her hand over a short, black strapless.
“C’mon,” Kevin urged.
“Just looking,” Heather grumped, dropping the hem and continuing through the quiet, empty store. “Figures,” she added after seeing the tag in a beam of sunlight.
“What figures?” Kevin reached the glass door that served as the entrance and looked out onto the street. The glow to the right indicated where the Suburban continued to burn.
“Stupid dress was a size two.”
“So?” Kevin tried the door. It opened out!
“Nothing.” Heather looked out at the zombie-filled street. “How the hell are we gonna get out of here?”
“Don’t you see?” Kevin pointed.
“All the zombies?” Heather shrugged.
“They’re moving away from the fire!” Kevin pointed again. A crash from the back caused them both to turn.
“They better hurry because we’ve got company.” Heather instinctively slid the shotgun off her shoulder.
“No shooting,” Kevin warned. He went to the door they’d come through and pulled it shut. “Besides…we’re moving.”
“But they’re still out there,” Heather insisted.
“Yep, and some have come up the alley, we’ll have ‘em goin’ so many directions.”
“What about the guys who were chasing us?” Heather asked, grabbing Kevin’s arm before he could open the door.
“Part of the plan,” Kevin said. “The zombies will be goin’ every direction. No doubt the explosion brought some more from the surrounding area. There is a building across the street, a bank, and if we can get in and up to the second floor, we can building-hop to the restaurant beside it. Both look untouched. We stay low, and wait this out.”
“But the bad guys?” Heather insisted.
“They’ll be way too busy.”
“I hope to God you’re right.”
Kevin opened the door. A zombie staggering past the entry turned and got Kevin’s knife in its eye. They ran across the street, Kevin clearing the path, shoving any nearby walking corpse aside as he went. Along the way he scooped up two large pieces of broken brick. He flung one at the window of the bank. A loud crash turned heads. Spinning, just before he climbed through the open, gaping hole, he threw the other back at the dress shop’s display window.
Over the groans of the dead and the roar from the wreckage of the flaming SUV a block away, a new sound carried. Vehicles and gunfire. Perfect, Kevin thought as he led Heather into the bank. He followed his hunch and hurried to a door to their right. Naturally it was locked. There was another across the lobby.
“You go to that one, we shoot on three!” Kevin ordered. “And hurry, Shaw’s men are close.”
Heather did as she was told, glancing nervously as the first zombie stumbled through the broken window.
“One. Two. Three!”
They both fired. Sure enough, Kevin’s door revealed a hallway and a flight of stairs. By the time Heather crossed back, four more zombies tumbled in.
“They’re on us,” Heather cried.
“Perfect,” Kevin huffed as he led them up the stairs.
They reached the upstairs hallway and discovered several office doors. One by one, Kevin began to kick them in. Fortunately, the frames were flimsy and the doors were weak. Heather joined in helping.
“Get ‘em all!” Kevin yelled over the sound of a nearby explosion.
>
That done, he glanced in each one until he saw what he was looking for: a ceiling hatch. A solid hit with the butt of his shotgun as he stood on the desk did the trick. Reaching up, he pushed the large bag through the hole, poking it the rest of the way with his shotgun. Next, he pulled himself up into the crawlspace, then reached down and pulled Heather up.
“Now what?” Heather whispered.
“Find our way to the roof,” Kevin answered. “You go that way, I’ll go this way. Make a hissing sound or something if you find something.”
“How am I supposed to see?”
“I realize that it’s dark,” Kevin said, “but you can feel around, plus there’s enough ambient light to see somewhat.”
They started to move apart when the sound of gunfire right outside made Heather grab Kevin. She didn’t seem inclined to let go.
“Okay,” Kevin flipped the hatch shut. “Change of plans. Just follow me.”
Heather didn’t ask any questions as shotgun blasts mixed with automatic weapons fire down below. The two reached a corner and Kevin moved to put his back against the wall. He pulled Heather in close, her back nestled against his chest. He kept his arms wrapped around her and they sat…listening to the chaos.
The sounds of shouts, gunfire, screams, and the steady undercurrent of noise from the undead continued. Sometimes it moved away, other times, it seemed directly beneath them. At one point, a huge explosion rocked everything. Kevin could feel the girl break into sobs on occasion, but he couldn’t hear them.
It continued for hours. Then…slowly…gradually…it faded. There was silence. It began to grow darker. Kevin went to move and realized that the girl in his arms had fallen asleep at some point. Oh well, he thought as he settled back into place, we can stay put until tomorrow. Eventually, he drifted off as well.
18
Breaking Point
“No,” Dr. Zahn insisted, “I haven’t heard even a slight whisper or rumor.”
“None of the outposts we were in touch with at Serenity reported any instances of immunity?” I tossed the rock I’d picked up at some point into the stream.
