Zombie Road (Book 1): Convoy of Carnage

by David A. Simpson

  They could hear them coming out of the dark, snarling and keening, scrabbling on the steps, tripping over each other in their haste.

  “How many?” Gunny yelled down into the blackness of the basement.

  “There’s four of them!” came the reply and he readied himself.

  He needed four headshots.

  On moving targets.

  Coming up at an angle.

  Out of the dark.

  Fifteen rounds.

  No problem.

  As soon as he saw the first one coming up the stairs using its hands and feet, bounding as fast as it could, he started double tapping.

  Boom boom.

  It hesitated, bounced off the handrail, rocked by at least one of the bullets.

  Boom boom.

  The second set exploded its’ skull. It dropped instantly and started bouncing back down the stairs, tripping up the others as they clawed and scrambled over the now lifeless form.

  Boom boom.

  Another fell.

  Gunny waited for the others to pick themselves up from being tumbled. They didn’t sound like they were moving so fast. Maybe they busted a leg or something in the fall. He could only hope.

  His eyes were getting used to staring into the inky blackness of the basement and he saw one coming, hopping in a broken way from step to step.

  Boom boom.

  Both in the head. Gore and bone splattered against the face of the fourth who didn’t slow down at all as she leaped over the falling body.

  Boom boom.

  Blood exploded out of the side of her neck and shoulder.

  Boom boom.

  Her head snapped back at a vicious angle and she crumpled to the stairs, finally dead.

  “Twelve shots for four stiffs?” he heard Scratch call out. “Weak sauce.”

  Gunny swapped magazines for a fully loaded one and re-holstered his Glock. “Get out of the women’s bathroom and find us an exit!” Gunny yelled back.

  “Lars?” he asked, “How’s it looking?”

  “Half dozen crawlers at the door, a few more runners making their way up the stairs.”

  “Anybody have a flashlight?” Gunny asked

  But when he turned to look back down the stairs, he noticed a single light beam dancing across the stairwell wall, heard the sound of hurrying footsteps and a chorus of “Don’t shoot! It’s us!”

  “Are we glad to see you!” the female deputy said as she came through the door but stopped short when she saw they weren’t police officers, just a couple of hard-looking men with beards and guns. “Who are you?” she asked, her hand automatically dropping to the butt of the gun she still wore in its holster. Gunny and Griz just looked at her.

  It was empty. They knew it was empty and she knew they knew it was empty so she let her hand fall away.

  “Billy sent us,” Gunny said. We need guns and ammo. You have access to the arms room?

  “There’s no arms room here, just a cabinet.”

  The other two from the cells stood behind her, one a young man in a sheriff’s deputy uniform, the other a tattooed woman in dirty jeans and tangled hair.

  “Billy didn’t send you,” she said and started edging towards the desks. Probably where she kept a spare gun or at least a loaded magazine.

  “The back’s clear” yelled Scratch. “But it’s the only other way out so let’s not dick around till it gets jammed up!”

  The runners had reached the top of the steps and were throwing themselves at the doors, shuddering them in their frames. The quiet screaming of all of the infected ratcheted up a notch as they came closer to their prey.

  Gunny saw the look of fear and determination flit across the deputies’ face when she heard Scratch’s voice. He realized she had been out of contact with everyone since they had fled into the cell, that none of them had a walkie-talkie and she had no idea how bad things really were. In her eyes, they looked like some wild desperados waving guns around in her police station. He made a snap decision to level with her. They didn’t have time to mess around.

  “You’re right,” he said. “Billy didn’t send us. He’s dead. But we heard your last transmissions on his radio and we came to try to get you out. We need guns and we need ammunition. I don’t have time to explain everything right now so we’re leaving. Come with us or stay here, doesn’t matter. But we’ve got to go. If you want to join us later, we’re at the Three Flags.” With that, he said “let’s roll” and him, Griz and Lars took off for the back doors.

  “Wait for me!” the woman with the dirty clothes said and ran after them.

  The two cops didn’t have to consider the situation for long and yelled for them to wait, come help carry the guns and ammo.

  There wasn’t a lot, it wasn’t like this sleepy little outpost had a swat team with a bunch of exotic hardware, but there were a dozen pump shotguns and another half dozen handguns that hadn’t been assigned. All of them Glock 17s. As the two deputies quickly reloaded their service weapons, Griz and Gunny stuffed everything into the duffels that were at the bottom of the locker.

  They split the boxes of ammunition between the bags so they wouldn’t be so heavy then ran for the back exit. The sturdy front entrance doors were still holding but the onslaught was relentless and they wouldn’t last much longer.

  “Runners coming in,” Scratch said as he flung open the doors and they hurried down the steps. Griz stopped halfway down, aimed and dropped both of them before hustling to catch up, keeping the group tight, the two cops carrying the duffels and the other woman in the center.

  “What are you driving?” the deputy yelled a little breathlessly as they rounded the corner but could have saved his breath. The blood and gore splattered semi-truck with the vicious looking plow welded to the front was in the middle of the street. It stood as a bloody testament to its efficiency. There were hundreds of crawling zombies slowly trying to make their way towards the police station on broken and shattered limbs.

  It was pretty obvious what they were driving.

  “Stabby, Scratch. Clear us a path to the truck.” Gunny said.

  The two took off at a sprint towards the semi, not really clearing but certainly killing a path to it. The feetless and broken zombies were moaning and reaching for them with outstretched arms, teeth gnashing. They found themselves with puss oozing holes in their heads as the boys ran through them hacking and stabbing.

  Brutal, sharp points were poking little holes of death nearly as fast as they ran, both arms swinging and slashing. They made short work of the crawlers until soon every dead thing between them and the truck was truly dead.

  Griz stood guard, M4 occasionally barking out a death warrant, as they all clamored inside and found room for the bags of guns under the bunk.

  “Go,” Gunny said, and he and Griz jumped in and slammed the doors, elbows reaching back to hit the locks without thinking.

  “Which way was the pawn shop?” Gunny asked, firing up the big Kitty and aiming for as many deaders as he could manage as he took off, bumping and crushing over them.

  “Back the other way, on the left. Right across from the KFC.” The woman said that Gunny figured was probably a prisoner in one of the cells before all this started happening.

  “Got it.” he yelled back over the noise of the winding engine. “I’m Gunny, that’s Griz.” He pointed to the big bearded man between shifting gears. “Back there with you is Lars, Scratch and Stabby.”

  Stabby stuck out his hand to shake and nearly impaled the deputy.

  “Whoops. Sorry,” he said as Scratch and Lars laughed.

  “It’s fine.” The lady deputy said as she checked her arm, making sure there were no cuts on it. “I’m Deputy Collins, this is Deputy McBride and this young lady is Ms. Cruz.”

  “Everybody just calls me Bunny” the little Hispanic woman chimed in, happy to be out of her cage and away from the infected that had kept them trapped.

  Gunny gave them a very condensed version of what they knew about the wor
ld and what was happening as he swung the truck around again and headed back towards the pawn shop. Scratch and Stabby jumped in occasionally to add a tidbit of depressing information. Again, he plowed into as many of the infected as he could, the blade flinging them off into mangled heaps.

  He spotted the Colonels House of Deep Fried Chicken and then saw the pawn shop across the street. Wide sidewalk, no telephone or lamp posts in front of it. No cars parked there. Canvas awning about 8 feet high over the entrance. Burglar bars on the windows and door.

  He swung wide and bounced up on the sidewalk, the oversized tires taking it all in stride, to a chorus of, “What are you doing?” and “Oh shit!” and Stabby yelling out “Whooohoooo!” like a cowboy at a rodeo. He drove the blade into the gated doors and they crumbled and tore loose like balsa wood.

  Deputy Collins was yelling something about “illegal” and “can’t do that” and “destroying property” but Gunny just threw it in reverse and backed out onto the road, a snarling, clawing undead thing coming out of the destroyed door after him. Maybe the quick version of world events these past two days that he had given her hadn’t sunk in yet.

  “Scratch, you got this?” he asked, and Scratch leaned over to the sleeper door and opened it. “Here, zombie, zombie, zombie,” he said, and when the thing saw him and came running up, it got a six-inch long spike to its forehead.

  “Ewww. That’s nasty.” Bunny said. But she didn’t look like she was going to be sick like Deputy McBride did.

  Gunny and Griz were already out of their doors by the time the thing collapsed on the ground and were hustling for the now wide open front of the store. Griz stood guard near the entrance, scanning both ways, M4 ready at his shoulder. They were lucky, the zombie Scratch had just killed was the proprietor and he had already opened the safe and was setting out his merchandise. He had a lot of guns, most of them hunting rifles and junky off brands but there were a few nice ones. They made a fireman’s chain and started handing them off, filling up the area beneath the bunk with all manner of firearms, pistols and any ammunition they could find, Griz urging them to hurry.

  As they grabbed the last of the hardware and Griz was giving them warning that the crawlers were getting close, Lars smashed a glass case with the butt of his Beretta and grabbed a pair of fancy sunglasses.

  “Need another gun out here” Griz yelled and popped off a few shots, taking out the closest of the crawlers. “We ain’t got time for fashion accessories!”

  “These are genuine Persols, Man!” Lars yelled back, putting them on as he slipped outside and took up a defensive position across the door from Griz.

  “Steve McQueen wore these.”

  He dropped to a knee and took out a runner but there were more coming and they were starting their keening screams. He started popping off shots, his pistol barking an answer.

  The rest all ran for the entrance with the last of the guns and started jumping back up into the truck. The runners were getting close as the last of them finally climbed aboard and slammed the doors. In his rush to get back inside the cab, Gunny slipped on the battery box and barked his shin on the serrated metal step on top of it, letting out a roar of pain and a blue streak of obscenities that would have made a merchant marine with Tourette’s blush.

  When he finally finished cussing Tommy for torching off his lower step and got it in gear and rolling again, he heard Lars and Scratch quibbling over money.

  “Eighty-seven dollars” Scratch insisted.

  “No, definitely eighty-four.” Lars came right back.

  Gunny was rocking in his seat, grimacing and white knuckling the steering wheel, his shin still screaming in pain at him. He could feel the blood soaking his sock from the shredded skin. He had really flayed it up good.

  “What the fuck are they bitching about?” he grunted to Griz, his face contorted, tears still rolling down his cheeks, finally getting his breath back.

  Griz didn’t answer, he was breathing hard, sounded like he was choking and Gunny looked over, thinking maybe he was hurt too, but it was obvious from the look on his reddening face. He was trying his best not to burst out laughing, trying to hold it in, one hand covering his mouth.

  “How much money you owe Kim” Scratch brayed, barely getting the words out before he fell into a heap of helpless laughter.

  “Fuck all Y'all” Gunny muttered back to still more snickers and giggles, the pent up tensions and fear falling away in the boy's contagious laughter as everyone joined in.

  Chapter 21

  The sun was just setting when Griz radioed they were coming in, and the gate was opened as they approached. Gunny pulled the rig in, aiming for the bay doors.

  He wanted Tommy to make a few improvements. Like putting his steps back on. If a zombie had enough coordination to climb up on it, he’d just have to shoot it in the face. It was too much hassle to try to climb up into the cab without something to stand on. Sara and Stacy were there with orders for everyone to start stripping down to their skivvies, modesty be damned.

  Bunny didn’t seem to mind, but Deputy Collins insisted on a modicum of privacy and they relented, taking her and Bunny inside to the Ladies room when they had finished checking out the guys for bites.

  Cobb was pleased with the haul they made and got a crew carrying everything in to be inventoried, cleaned, tested and divvied up to anyone needing a weapon. Gunny laid claim to a nice short barrel M-4 that was equipped with a couple of tasteful add-ons and a few boxes of ammo for it and his Glock before it all got carted away.

  He got dressed again and checked with Tommy to let him know how the battlements held up and what things needed to be improved upon. There were a half dozen trucks in the rear yard already being up-armored and looking ready for anything.

  “They’re going quick once we knew what to do. Got an assembly line started.” Tommy said by way of explanation when Gunny expressed a bit of amazement on how fast he churned them out.

  He still wanted to leave at first light. Hopefully, the General would have some information about Atlanta from his satellites. They were all supposed to be on the channel at twenty-two hundred hours. He had time to get a deflector for his left fender welded up, a step put back on and grab a shower. Maybe see if Martha or Cookie had any leftovers that were still warm.

  He also needed to find out who all was planning on running with him. He hoped it wouldn’t be a bunch, too many guys just slowed things down. But three or four trucks headed east would be nice. He still needed to stop by an RV dealer or find an RV on the side of the road to snag the water pump from.

  They all had little 12 volt pumps to operate the water for the sink and toilet. He figured he could use it to refuel along the way. Maybe use three or four at the same time. It might take a while, but it was better than a mouthful of diesel every time with a siphon hose.

  By the time he and Tommy had welded up a deflector for his front tires and he’d gotten a shower, it was going on nine o’clock. Another hour till the General came on so he headed to the diner to find some food. Nearly everyone was there and Stabby was regaling them with tales of horror and glory of their afternoon’s experience.

  He was exaggerating quite a bit with Scratch and Lars jumping in from time to time when Stabby wasn't eloquent enough in describing the wastelands beyond the gates of the truck stop.

  Gunny stepped up beside Griz, Hot Rod and a few of the others, listening for a moment. It was quite entertaining to watch them. Stabby was a natural showman with Scratch and Lars acting it all out with exaggerated motions, sound effects and facial expressions.

  “Got us some real Shakespeares here,” Griz said with a grin.

  “Apparently I took out a whole horde with just my K-bar.”

  “More like the three stooges.” Deputy Collins opined sourly. Her role in this impromptu three-man show had been only that of a damsel in distress. She had been rescued by the dashing heroes who risked life and limb, cutting through countless zombies to save the ladies.

  As
the story finished with the gallant Gunny driving over a mostly destroyed bridge with exploding cars sending up great walls of flame all the while shooting zombies off of the hood one handed, the small crowd applauded and Ms. Bunny Cruz ran up and kissed them all, proclaiming “My heroes!”

  Griz and Gunny were laughing out loud and applauding with the rest.

  “Nobody is going to believe all that tripe” Deputy Collins grumbled but she too had a smile on her face and clapped along with everyone else.

  “I didn’t say it before, but thank you for pulling us out of there,” she said, looking each of them in the eye.

  “No worries, Ma’am. Just doing our job.” Griz grinned at her.

  She almost smiled back.

  Gunny headed over to the buffet area to see what was left but hollered before it got too loud “I’m rolling east at first light. You guys that wanna convoy come see me and let’s figure out a route.”

  Chapter 22

  Wire Bender had run some coms wire along the toy train tracks and through the walls so he could put a speaker in the dining room. Everyone couldn’t fit in his CB shop and he was really uncomfortable having so many people hanging out there all the time now, hoping to hear a snippet of news. As everyone in the diner quieted down in anticipation when the first of the Hams around the world started checking in, Gunny headed over to the CB shop.

  He needed to ask the General about Atlanta and he figured they owed him something, he had given them the answer to what had caused this whole pandemic of death. He heard the Germans confirm they were on the air as he walked in and nodded to Wire Bender, Griz and Cobb.

  “They had us go up to a different frequency.” Wire Bender was telling Cobb. “They say this one is secure, unauthorized radios can’t listen in.”

  “I didn’t know you could do that with open air coms,” Gunny said.

  “I can’t.” Wire Bender replied. “They’re the ‘Gummint. They can do a lot of things with military grade transceivers. There’s a bunch of Hams from all over the world listening in and I guess they are using narrow band and repeaters, maybe even satellite bounce.”