Zombies on the Rock (Book 2): The Viking Trail

by Carberry, Paul

  "I am doing what I need to do to keep people safe. Right now I have a more pressing matter at hand, someone who is in far greater danger than yourself," the young man growled at Jason.

  "You see that swarm of zombies at that cabin? My friends are over there, please save them." Jason made one last effort to garner their help.

  "You mean the one across the lake? With the helicopter?" The young man sounded eager and excited now. "Do you know Eric Jones?"

  "I do. Will you help me?"

  "Get in. Name's Smith.” Warrant Smith jumped up into the cab of the eighteen-wheeler, ordering the man in the passenger seat to head into the trailer of the cab. The soldier gave Jason a nod as he walked towards the back of the truck.

  Jason climbed into the cab, and the welcoming heat blasted him in the face as he got inside, instantly improving his state of mind. The frigid weather had chilled Jason to the bone and was making him act irrationally, nearly getting himself killed on that damn motorcycle.

  The warrant handed Jason a Glock 9mm. "You ever use one of these?" The gun was in pristine condition; Jason could tell it was well taken care of.

  Jason jammed the magazine into the stock and pulled back the cut slide. "So what's the plan?"

  "Just get me there and pray we made it on time." Warrant Smith pressed down on the gas and the engine rumbled as they drove towards the survivors trapped inside the cabin.

  "Help!"

  Eric could hear Dana's terrified screams over the ghastly moans of the zombies, the horde of demonic freaks encircling the cabin.

  "Fuck." Eric jumped out of the passenger’s seat and raced down the driveway towards his wife's cries for help. The sounds of footsteps behind Eric echoed as they marched towards him, but Eric wouldn't look back until he found Dana. The back door to the cabin had been busted in, and swarms of dead bodies were shuffling inside on the ground level. They never paid any attention to Eric as he rounded the cabin; they were too focused on the defenceless prey trapped upstairs.

  "Dana."

  Eric looked on in horror as his wife dangled perilously above three hungry zombies, with the only thing keeping her from falling into their nasty arms a bed sheet. A wretched, frail pair of arms nearly grasping the bed sheet caught Eric's attention. The zombie's body was completely exposed to the elements: the skin showed signs of frostbite as large areas of blackened, dead skin coated its backside. Two fingers on its left hand had already fallen off and one more was completely black. Eric quickly drew his handgun from his holster, and without thinking about the consequences fired three shots. Each shot was maliciously placed, creating a murderous spray of red, a grisly contrast to the falling snow. The soldiers marched past Eric, directly towards the helicopter to secure the precious machine.

  "Eric!" Dana cried as she stumbled down the roof and into Eric's arms.

  The embrace was quickly cut short by the eerie moans of the approaching zombies, drawn towards the gunshots. Eric looked all around and cursed himself. The sound was drawing several of the creatures directly towards them now.

  "Help!" Eric shouted towards the soldiers as they marched towards the helicopter, focusing on securing only the area surrounding it. Private Rose and Corporal Hann broke formation and started to head directly towards Eric.

  "Fall back in line, soldiers!" Sergeant Mitchell roared the command between deftly trained shots of his rifle.

  "We aren't taking orders from you any more, Mitchell, you've gone mad." Private Rose gathered his courage and defied Sergeant Mitchell.

  Corporal Hann dropped a female zombie wearing a dress that at one point had been blue. Now it was covered in shit and grim. "Everyone needs to stick together." Another shot from the corporal's gun landed its mark, the creature twitching wildly before collapsing to the ground.

  Corporal Blake advanced towards the helicopter, and was the only soldier not firing his weapon. When he reached the cockpit, he jumped inside but left the door open and started to take aim. His precise shots sent several zombies tumbling to the dirt, but the horde was too large. The zombies were drawn towards the gunfire, and they clumsily staggered over the fallen corpses, unafraid of the soldiers' weapons.

  "I said fall in line. Corporal Blake: get this helicopter going now, before they overrun our position." Sergeant Mitchell grabbed Private Wakeman’s jacket and shook him. "Start firing that weapon, Private."

  Tears started to well up in Wakeman's eyes, and his body trembled with fear. Sergeant Mitchell smashed the butt end of his rifle into the forehead of one of the shuffling corpses that had gotten too close. The creature's skull cracked open, brown blood oozing down its face as it seized uncontrollably before thrashing its arms at Private Saunders. Its body crashed into the private, they slammed hard into the ground, and before anyone could react, the corpse sank its teeth into the soft flesh of the private's neck. Warm blood flowed between the monster's teeth, steam rising from the wound.

  Eric watched as the chaos unfolded in front of him. Private Rose cried out for his fallen brother, the helicopter's blades started to spin, Corporal Hann continued to pick off the approaching threats, and Sergeant Mitchell rammed the butt of his gun into the head of the undead creatures over and over again. Droplets of darkened blood stained the sergeant's face, his eyes wild with rage as he raised his gun and fired a shot into the skull of Private Wakeman. Eric looked on in horror as the sergeant licked the blood from his lips and raised his gun back in their direction.

  "Get back in line, soldier. Last time I'm giving you that order." Sergeant Mitchell’s eyes looked more terrifying than the dead eyes of any zombie Eric had ever seen. There was an evil that leered at Private Rose that unnerved Eric. Eric had no idea how many zombies remained in the cabin, but the threat they posed failed in comparison to the pure madness that was waving a gun at them.

  "Never!"

  BANG

  BANG

  Defiance was the last word Private Rose ever uttered as Sergeant Mitchell shot him twice, once in the stomach and the second a kill shot between the eyes. The private dropped to his knees and Eric shuddered as blood bubbled from the exit wound. The Private's limp body fell face first into the wet grass with a sickening thud. Dana screamed in sheer terror at the sight of the dead soldier, as blood splatter from the gunshot wound dirtied her jeans. The zombies seemed to be drawn towards the scent of fresh blood, the pitch of their moans seeming to change, as if they were trying to signal that a fresh meal awaited them. Sergeant Mitchell turned to enter the helicopter, but Corporal Blake had the door shut, the blades of the helicopter at full force now.

  BANG

  The glass covering the helicopter shattered, a red stain instantly appeared on the other side and the corporal slumped forwards into the controls. The aircraft lifted from the ground momentarily before crashing back down. The chopper shuddered and the landing arms on the right side collapsed underneath the uncontrolled descent, sending the rotating blade into the sergeant’s guts. A deep gash opened in Mitchell’s abdomen, spilling his intestines onto the ground, and a flood of blood stained the snow below. Somehow, the sergeant managed to turn and set his psychotic glare towards Dana, raising the gun with one hand and trying hopelessly to hold his remaining organs inside his stomach cavity. Eric leapt towards Dana, using his own body as a shield. The sergeant pulled the trigger, sending a spray of bullets in their direction. The thunderous sound echoed as the bullets sliced through the air.

  BBBRRRRAAKAKKAKKA!

  CHAPTER FORTEEN:

  HYSTERIA

  Eric shielded Dana's body from the hailstorm of bullets and sent them both crashing towards the ground. A sharp pain shot down Eric's arm as one of the stray bullets made its way through the flesh of his shoulder. "Damn it!" Eric cried out in anguish as his body smashed into the frozen ground, causing the gunshot wound to throb. "Dana?" he asked as the bullets stopped.

  "I'm fine." Dana was already making her way to her feet.

  Eric put his hand over the wound; his jacket was wet with blood. "Goddam
n it."

  "Jack! You have to get down here now while you still can!" Dana screamed out to the window above before rushing over to the hatch that led underneath the cabin. She quickly threw it open. "Tina, we have to move now." Dana had a sense of urgency that Eric never knew existed in her -- she was taking charge now.

  Eric looked over to watch as the zombies feasted upon the fallen soldiers, drawn by instinct to the fresh blood oozing from the recently deceased corpses. A man wearing nurse scrubs was pulling out the entrails from Private Rose's abdomen, ripping large hunks of flesh off with every bite, and devouring the soft tissue. Disgusting chewing noises mixed with hungry moans making the horrific scene even more diabolical.

  "Eric, help Calvin up." Tina struggled to hoist the large man to his feet. Eric did his best to shoulder some of the weight, but the strain of Calvin's weight sent shockwaves of pain throughout his body. Dana was helping Stella make the jump down from the rope and Jack had already made his way out the window.

  Outreached arms stretched to grab a hold of Jack, and in a panic he lost his footing, slammed face first into the shingles and tumbled down the slanted roof. Out of control, Jack slammed hard into Stella and Dana, who were waiting for him to brace the fall as best they could. Stella stumbled over backwards, but Dana had managed to keep her footing and miraculously nobody was seriously injured during the commotion. Several pairs of rotten arms reached out the window as a defeated moan echoed from the upstairs. The zombies had lost their chance at another feast.

  "Now what?" Tina was panicking, pacing back and forth.

  Calvin struggled to stand upright, his hands resting on his hips as he bent over at the waist. "Where's Father Jon?"

  Eric couldn't take his eyes off the feast occurring just twenty feet away. An alarming realization flooded over Eric as he noticed that the zombies were nearly done gorging on the fallen bodies, their shrill moans indicating that they were not satisfied. There must have been forty of those flesh-eating ghouls, and dozens more continued to flood out of the cabin.

  Calvin grabbed Jack by the front of the jacket. "Where's Father Jon?" Calvin snarled at Jack, shaking him back and forth.

  "He didn't make it; they got him." Dana rushed to Jack's side, trying her best to intervene.

  At that, Calvin went motionless, but Jack was still unable to free himself from the powerful clutches of Calvin's grip.

  A thunderous roar could be heard approaching the cabin. Eric surveyed the area, and quickly determined their best chance of survival would be to move towards the driveway now. Whatever the source of that racket was, they stood a better chance of heading towards it. Eric could only hope that it was another vehicle; maybe Jason had found help?

  "Come on, we have to get out of here before they are done feeding." Eric started to lead them towards the back of the cabin.

  As they rounded the corner, three zombies blocked their way across the bridge, but the monsters were distracted by the obnoxious noise barrelling down the road.

  "Calvin, give me that axe." Eric rushed towards Calvin and grabbed the large wood splitting axe. The corpses shuffled awkwardly across the bridge, the booming noise drowning out Eric's footsteps as he advanced. The cumbersome axe and the gunshot wound in Eric's shoulder made raising the axe an arduous task, but Eric toiled with the responsibility.

  A woman with greasy grey hair was the first casualty of the deadly axe, the weighted blade slicing through the skull with ease. The edge of the axe trapped itself deep inside the skull, and as the victim went limp, the axe was wretched from Eric's hand and sent him tumbling into the back of the other elderly zombie in front of him. The weight of Eric's body collapsing into the decrepit, fragile legs splintered the leg bones of the feeble creature. An overpowering odour of decaying flesh and dirt hit Eric's nostrils as he pushed himself up on his hands and knees. The scent sent him reeling backwards from the crippled cadaver. As Eric backed away, his hand landed into something mushy and gelatinous.

  "Fuck!" Eric tried to shake the gooey slime off his hands from the brain that had slid out from the cranium of the female zombie. The decrepit male zombie negotiated its torso to face Eric: the mouth was full of dirt and blackened teeth with chunky black ooze frothing from its mouth. The cold, smoky eyes seemed obsessed with Eric as the creature clawed its way towards him, dragging the useless legs behind. Eric frantically reached for the axe, but the mucous from the brain had made his hands too slippery to get a sturdy grip on the handle.

  BANG

  BANG

  A red mist showered the air, the blood splatter blemishing the falling snow.

  Eric looked towards the source of the gunfire. Private Byrnes rushed past the convulsing corpse and hoisted his boot above the male zombie’s head, brutally crushing its skull with tremendous force.

  Private Byrnes reached his hand out to Eric, helping him to his feet. "You came back?"

  "I enjoy a good fight!" Private Byrnes raised his assault rifle in the air above his head and squeezed the trigger, his carefully aimed shots taking down the last zombie. "This way, Warrant."

  Warrant Smith and twelve other soldiers marched towards the cabin in unison, ready to engage the enemy with bared teeth.

  Tina trembled with relief as the ordeal of being stuck under the cabin for the past hour came to a surprisingly jubilant ending. Being trapped in the dark underneath that cabin had filled her with a sense of dread she couldn't have possibly hoped to overcome. The ill feeling had crept over her like an icy chill, paralyzing her motor functions, and cornering her like an ensnared animal.

  Now she watched with exhilaration as the soldiers moved with a calculated and meticulous vengeance, not wasting a single round of ammo. Spatters of blood and gore mixed with the snowfall to create a murderous fireworks display as the proficient squad shrewdly made their way through the throngs of corpses. The shambling creatures dropped in pairs as the military worked in artful unison; after every booming gunshot, bodies would shudder and jerk uncontrollably before dropping to the earth.

  "I can't believe we made it!" Stella was on the verge of celebrating, finally coming to grip with her senses after nearly losing her mind just moments ago.

  "Everyone wasn't so lucky..." Calvin mourned the loss of his long time mentor and friend, Father Jon.

  Stella turned to look at Calvin. "If it wasn't for him, we would have all died up there." Stella told this lie to ease Calvin's pain. In reality, the coward had nearly gotten them all killed, but Stella couldn't think of how any good would ever come from that truth.

  "Jason?" Eric called out to Jason as he jumped down from the eighteen wheeler parked in the driveway.

  Jason had a distraught look on his face. "Is everyone okay?" He rushed towards the bridge with a handgun at his side.

  "Father Jon didn't make it, but everyone else did." Eric was applying pressure to his wound, labouring to stop the bleeding from his shoulder.

  "Where's Dana?" Jason's question disrupted the sense of safety that the group felt.

  Eric whirled around in a clamour, hastily looking for his wife, quickly recognizing that his father was missing too. "Dana. DAANNAAA!"

  Stella promptly realized that her husband was also missing in action and joined in the hectic search. "Jack? Dana!"

  Tina felt that uneasy feeling of morbid dread once more, turning to watch the soldiers strategically dismantle the remaining stragglers from the horde of flesh-eating zombies.

  "Help!" Tina heard Jack's grievous cry for help coming from the shed.

  "Come here, Patch!" Dana reached out for her dog, urging it to come out from underneath the shed. "It's going to be alright." Dana was on her stomach, crawling underneath the shed as she tried to grab the dog's collar. She had left herself in a vulnerable position, defenceless against one of those shambling corpses shuffling towards the gunfire at the cabin.

  "Dana. Hurry up, I can't hold them all off." Jack was getting winded.

  Dana could hear loud, wet, sickening thuds as Jack defended her from t
he undead monsters. She stretched out as far as she could, but the dog nestled just out of her reach and she couldn't push her way any further underneath the shed. The opening was too small for Dana to squeeze in any deeper.

  "Help!" Jack's shrill cries were more urgent now. Dana contorted her neck to look out towards the pandemonium.

  "DAD." Eric's voice sounded distant.

  THUNK

  THUD

  A corpse slammed into a stump sticking up from the ground, its neck twisting grotesquely to face Dana. Its face had been caved in by whatever blunt object Jack was wielding. Its broken nose gushed blood over the freshly fallen snow, trickling downhill towards Dana. She made one last effort to reach the dog, her fingers grazing the collar, but she couldn’t get a solid hold of the fabric. Thunderous gunfire echoed in the distance, and panicked yells verged upon the shed. Total anarchy surrounded Dana; hysteria confused the situation. She didn't know what to do. Dana's hands clawed at the earth, her mouth opened to scream but no words came out. Dana could feel the world unravelling around her as a rush of terror froze her senses.

  THUNK

  THUD

  A cold, clammy hand brushed against her ankle as Jack abolished another zombie with another crushing blow to the top of its head. A soupy mess of blood and cerebrospinal fluid flowed towards Dana's feet.

  BANG BANG

  BANG BANG

  Gunshots roared in Dana's eardrum, and before she could turn to face the mass carnage happening around her, a pair of hands gripped her by the ankle and dragged her out from underneath the shed.

  The muscular shoulder of the horse dug deep into Frank's abdomen, while the rope that the Viking used to tie his hands was rough and cut deep into his wrist, making them sore and red. The snow was really beginning to fall heavily now, blanketing Frank as they trotted along the highway towards Howley, the metal horseshoes clapping loudly off the pavement. The other two Viking warriors had vanished into the forest after having words with the man that had lodged Frank on the horse. They had tried to sit him upright, but his body couldn't hold itself up. He was in too much pain to concentrate, and wasn't able to hear what was being discussed around him. Frank could feel the world slowly slipping away, his lungs were burning from the pain of his broken ribs, a pain that was compounded by the painful prodding of the razor-sharp shoulder blade of the horse, agitating the injury with every movement. Frank feared for the safety of his fellow survivors. Danger loomed unknown and hidden in the shadows, something far worse than the undead. Frank's heart was pounding against the broken ribs and his face flinched in anguish; it felt like the jagged bone was digging into the thick wall of his heart.