by T. W. Brown
“Where are you at, Mike?” Darrin called.
Static.
“Mike?” Kevin keyed his handset.
“Yo, Mikey?” Darrin tried once again. “Kevin, can you see Mike?”
“He was backing up, following you,” Kevin replied.
“I didn’t see him on Wheeling. But I wasn’t paying attention to anything past putting some distance between me and that mob.”
“Well, I know a bunch of those bastards were peeling off from me to go after him, but I thought he was on your heels and I lost sight when I pulled into the drive-up thingy that leads to the front door.”
“Well—”
“Gotta go, Darrin,” Kevin cut Darrin off. “I see the girls in the lobby, and I need to clear out a few of the more persistent types who are trying to squeeze in between me and the doors.”
“But what about Mike?” Darrin’s voice sounded like he was about to cry.
“Busy right now, but we’ll get him. Don’t worry.”
Darrin’s protest continued, but Kevin ignored it as he dropped the handset and drew his nine millimeter. Sliding across the benchseat, he rolled down the window. A pair of hands reached in from behind the cab instantly, and a face appeared. Most of the right side had been torn away. Kevin pressed the barrel of his gun against the thing’s forehead and fired. The back of its head exploded, splattering the coarse rock of the wall behind it.
Judging that he had a moment before the one squeezing itself between the front bumper and the glass of the first of the double-doors that he was parked in front of could get through, he chanced to look back. Two of the things were practically flattened between the truck and the wall. Dark smears where they had been dragged and grated stained the reddish, quartz-type rock that coated the building’s exterior.
The girls were dragging huge sofas that they had used to brace and block the doors. He swung his arm around and blew away the one zombie at his front bumper. More were massing up in front of his truck as well as along the driver’s side. Getting out was gonna be more difficult than getting in. If the bodies got too dense, he might not be able to force his way through.
“C’mon, ladies,” he yelled.
They were fumbling with a set of keys now. Finally, they came to the right one. They pushed on the door.
Clank.
Damn, Kevin cursed himself. He hadn’t considered that the door opened out, but that couldn’t be helped now.
“Step away,” he called and brought up one of his pistol-grip 12-gauge shotguns. The ladies scrambled away obediently. His thumb pressed the safety button and he fired. The sound was deafening in the cab, and all he could hear was ringing in his ears, but the glass door was now a big gaping hole.
The dead would have the building, but it wouldn’t matter. Kevin looked over the four women, he guessed the mother to be in her fifties but well maintained. The three daughters were from late teens to probably thirty (the one who looked to be about sixteen was the pregnant one).
The women all rushed to the truck, helping the pregnant one in first. Then, one by one, they squirmed through the window, spewing words of gratitude that he could barely hear above the ringing in his ears. The last one was in—the mother—and Kevin, unaware that he was yelling, told them to roll up the window. That done, he shifted into drive and floored it. The truck lunged, and bodies vanished from in front. The big vehicle rocked as it drove over downed corpses.
“Hang on!” Kevin warned as he cranked the wheel left and plowed into a sea of undead pouring through the pillars that marked the exit. He glanced left and his blood seemed to freeze. He knew where Mike was.
About three blocks away, a mass of bodies rose in a lump. Obviously Mike’s El Camino was underneath that squirming mass.
***
Darrin took another left. If his guess was correct, he should now be coming up on the street where Mike and Kevin were at…hopefully.
Why wasn’t anybody answering their damn radio?
He saw the intersection just ahead where that reddish building that those women they were rescuing were supposed to be in. While there had to be at least a hundred zombies coming at him from all sides, Darrin barely noticed. He was craning his neck trying to get a look. Another body bounced off the front fender, causing the poor Geo to shudder. The car was taking a real beating, and there would be no doubt that he would have to trade up to something more durable. At least he wouldn’t have to sweat the price of gas.
Finally he was able to see; what he saw made his bowels turn to water. The U-Haul was surrounded on all sides and barely moving through the swarm of undead that was doing everything possible to get at the five people jammed in the cab. Further up the road was a mound of rising horror that had to be the location of Mike and the El Camino.
A hand slapped his side window causing Darrin to scream and wet his pants…just a bit. The twisted caricature of what had probably been a beautiful woman pressed up against the glass in an audible squish of rotting flesh. Only an ugly, gaping hole remained where her nose had been. Black slime smeared the already gore-crusted window. One torn breast was nothing more than a thick, ham-like piece of flesh. The other had a small tear, and what had to be a silicon or saline pouch poked obscenely through the ripped skin.
Darrin gagged.
He saw several more stumbling aberrations closing in and knew he had to do something to help his friend. A block further up the street, something caught his eye.
A fire engine!
Darrin wasn’t totally sure he could drive it, but it looked like the best choice. Gunning his trusty but battered little car, he sped away leaving Breast Implant-zombie whirling and eventually sprawled on the road.
He skidded up alongside the red behemoth and was out his door—pistol in one hand, machete in the other—in a flash. Climbing up on the sideboard, he let out a little whoop when he spied the keys dangling from the ignition. Pulling open the door, he hopped in, whispering a prayer as he attempted to start the engine.
It sputtered briefly, then roared to life!
He knew there was no way he could turn the vehicle around in this tiny space, so he took off and circled the block. He came up on the rear of the mob that had Mike pinned down. He hoped and prayed that he wasn’t too late
***
Mike braced his feet against the windshield. It was desperation, but he really only had one other option. He cast a glance at the sawed-off shotgun beside him. It was ready…just in case. He didn’t relish the idea of deep-throating the barrel and spraying his head on the inside of his beloved El Camino. He liked the idea of being eaten alive even less.
The sound of their moans and other odd noises echoed in the tiny, oblong cab. Occasionally, he thought he heard something eerily similar to a baby’s cry. Meanwhile, the crack in the windshield spread across as well as up and down. The glass groaned and popped, threatening to come crashing in at any moment.
Suddenly, the entire vehicle rocked!
He looked over his shoulder, dreading to see what the hell was now on his ass. There were too many zombies, in addition to all the supplies. Of course the tarp was now all but gone having been torn off by the swarming multitude of clawing, grasping, clutching hands of the dead.
Undead?
Twice dead?
Zombie?
What the fuck does it matter, Mike thought as he stared into the several sets of milky, black-bloodshot eyes that looked blankly back at him.
Something behind him, but out of sight, roared mightily. The El Camino rocked again and, as the roar grew louder, began to move forward. The grinding metal was felt as well as heard as he plowed through the corpses that had him pinned down. The bodies, lacking any real sort of coordination, began tumbling off the shuddering hulk of a car that resisted every inch that it moved along this zombie-infested street.
Mike watched the windshield carefully. The vibration sent more spidery cracks racing through the safety glass. Any second, he expected the remaining zombies pressed against it to come
crashing in.
***
Kevin leaned over the steering wheel, willing the seriously laboring truck to keep surging forward.
“I don’t want to die,” one of the girls beside him whimpered.
“Me neither, sweetheart,” Kevin said through teeth clenched so tight his jaws ached.
He felt like a child frightened of those drive-through car washes. He could see the end, but it seemed an eternity before he would reach that point. Taking a second to glance at his now cockeyed side mirror, he saw something that made him momentarily ease up on the gas pedal.
A great big fire engine had pulled into their little stretch of Hell. From the looks, it was easing in behind the bulge that hid Mike and the El Camino.
“Good luck, guys,” Kevin whispered.
The U-Haul cleared the solid wall of zombies, and now thumped and bounced through the scattered remnants of horror that were all that remained between them and the relatively open street. He would make it!
***
Darrin watched the mound of zombies seem to give birth to Mike’s El Camino. Several of the things clung to the vehicle, but at least they had pushed through the first wave. A half a block away, the rear of the second group remained. Of course they were currently focused on the U-Haul, but that was about to change.
He swung left to move up beside the driver’s side door, frantically motioning for Mike to join him. There was enough space for him to open the door and get out. Zombies were every-where, but it was the only choice. It was clear from the smoke rolling out from under the El Camino that the vehicle was done for.
Darrin leaned over and pushed a button that rolled the passenger’s side window down. He sighted in on a black man that looked as if his days of drug abuse had been as damaging as his undeath. His shot exploded the thing’s skull, and its body toppled back from its perch on the roof of the El Camino. It tumbled into a few of the zombies that had gained purchase in the supply-laden bed of the now defunct car that had been the pride of Mike’s adolescent years. Darrin nodded to Mike and opened the passenger door.
Mike swung his door open and emerged with pistol in one hand, shotgun in the other. Climbing up on the running boards, he paused just long enough to literally jam the barrel of the shotgun into the open mouth of a pantsuit clad lady missing her entire left arm as well as an eye and most of the flesh around it. He pulled the trigger and the head erupted in a chunky spray of blackened brain matter mixed with bone shards. He climbed into the firetruck’s cab and dropped the shotgun, shaking his right arm to work out the shock and tingle as he pulled the door shut with his left.
“We’re losing a lot of supplies” Mike said as the firetruck began to roll backwards.
“Mmm-hmm,” Darrin agreed as he spun the steering wheel to the right. The vehicle was bouncing over enough bodies that it was barely noticeable as he caught the curb with his right rear tires.
He straightened out the wheel and took off for the interstate. He hoped Kevin would be there.
***
“Name’s Kevin.” His grip on the U-Haul’s steering wheel relaxed as he crested the on-ramp and entered the relatively zombie-free interstate.
“I’m Angela, and these are my daughters, Ruth, Shari, and Erin.” Angela pointed them out in turn. “I don’t know how we could ever thank you enough for what you’ve risked.”
“Where’s Mike?” Erin, the pregnant one who, now that Kevin saw her up close, was absolutely no older than fifteen, asked.
“He should be meeting up with us soon,” Kevin answered as he swerved just a bit to avoid a lurching zombie that reminded him of a priest from his mom’s church. He didn’t add out loud the part about, if he makes it out from under what looked to be at least a hundred eager corpses.
“You guys are totally like heroes,” Shari purred.
Kevin knew that, as odd as it seemed, he had seen that girl someplace before. The long, unnaturally crimson hair was giving way to dirty-blonde roots, and even without a trace of make-up, there was a wholesome but simultaneously slutty qual-ity to her face. Large blue eyes stared back at him questioningly. He would probably think clearer when his heart rate was back under triple digits. He was just now starting to feel the adrenaline subside, but his mind would not rest until he saw Darrin or Mike…or, hopefully, both.
“I’m just glad you ladies are okay.”
“Yes, well,” Angela’s voice held a certain edge to it, like she was used to being in charge, “now that you’ve rescued us from that place and those...things…where do you plan on going?”
“South Dakota.” Kevin slowed and came to a stop. Up ahead he saw around twenty or thirty zombies. They were scattered, but had definitely turned his way. He unlocked the door and opened it so he could lean out and see the on-ramp that he expected his friends to appear from.
“What’s in South Dakota?” Shari enunciated the state’s name like a teenager over-dramatizing distaste in being forced to wear second-hand clothing.
“Hopefully nothing.” Kevin peeked over his shoulder at the zombies forming up in the distance and closing in, albeit slowly.
“I don’t get it,” Shari said with a mixture of confusion and annoyance.
“I believe the young man has a rather clever plan,” Angela said, shushing her daughter.
“Let’s hope so…or else.... Well, let’s just hope so and leave it at that.” No use upsetting the pregnant girl who seemed on the verge of hysterics. The distance between the U-Haul and the approaching zombies grew ever shorter.
A rumble in the distance began to grow. Suddenly, a firetruck crested the on-ramp, roaring onto the interstate. An unfortunate few of the undead staggered into the path of the approaching vehicle, only to be sent flying in a twisted mess of shattered bone and ruptured flesh.
Kevin ducked back into the cab, shut the door, and shifted into drive. They could catch up on all the events of the previous hour later. Now…it was time to put some distance between them and this dead city.
10
Tranquility Base
“They’re coming!” Barry yelled from where he sat in the open window on the passenger’s side. He propped his elbow on the roof of the truck and slid the stock of the 30.06 to his shoulder.
I turned back to the task at hand, scooping boxes of ammunition into a large duffel bag. I still couldn’t believe that this gun shop had not been completely sacked! Every so often, luck tosses you a rose.
Dillon came out from the back room with a huge grin. He brandished a pair of what I considered to be rather exotic looking weapons. They appeared familiar, and before I could guess—
“Fuckin’ AK-47s!” Dillon crowed.
“Wow! This gun store has quite a selection.” I nodded, not that I would really know.
“These weren’t for sale. The owner probably just carted them out to get his customer’s mouths watering. Good news is that I also found almost two thousand rounds in a footlocker!”
“Barry said they’re getting close, so we’d best get moving.” I shouldered the duffel bag.
Dillon handed me one of the AKs and retrieved the footlocker, then we ducked through the shattered glass of the front window. The street was in fact getting a bit crowded. The two of us jogged over to the truck and climbed in back. I knocked on the window and Ian laid into the horn as we started rolling.
So far, I had to say I was happy with how things were working out. It seemed that we’d succeeded in drawing a majority of the zombies after us. Occasionally, I heard shots that I assumed to be Teresa. That meant she was doing her part to empty the parking lot so that we could return and load up our newly accquired supplies. This gun shop had been pure, sweet icing.
“Steve! You hear that?” Barry was looking skyward.
I listened, trying to hear above the noise of the undead. A sound I hadn’t heard in a while began to rise above everything else.
A jet!
Like Barry, I began scanning the sky. It was kinda cloudy, but not too bad. Looking towards wh
at I guessed to be south, I spotted it! It banked and took off eastward, but there was no mistaking the outline of a fighter-jet. I’m not savvy enough to discern the type…or nationality…but it was definitely a military plane. I pointed it out to the others.
“Reminds me of 9-11,” Barry said as he watched the jet quickly shrink to a dot and vanish.
“Only thing in the air were the CAP flights making sure nothing else happened. It was so strange not seeing contrails in the sky,” I sighed.
“Think it means anything?” Dillon had already returned his attention to the task at hand, which was putting down any zombie that got too close.
“Who knows.” I shrugged. I slapped the roof and leaned down by Ian’s window, “Circle around. Let’s try and make a go of grabbing our stuff.”
The town was small enough that it took us no time to get back to the Walmart parking lot. There were still zombies wandering the area; more than when we first arrived, but considerably less than when we had set this on-the-fly plan into motion.
“Barry, keep an eye open and get behind the wheel,” I yelled as Dillon and I vaulted from the open bed. “Ian, take this AK and keep an open perimeter.”
We went to work loading things into the truck’s spacious cargo bed. I must’ve zoned out and just gone into automatic, because it took me a second to realize that Dillon was calling my name. At some point, he’d drifted into the sally port, and now he stood there motioning me to join him.
“We don’t have time to do any more shopping; I want to catch up with Teresa and the others as quick as—”
