by David Spell
Just as they got inside and shut the door, the fourteen remaining Zs slammed against it. The two men had eliminated eighteen of their attackers, but those remaining would also need to be dealt with before they could check the offices for survivors.
"So, upstairs, down the hall, downstairs, shoot 'em from the other stairwell door?" Scotty asked, swapping the magazine in his rifle for a fresh one.
Andy nodded, also reloading his M4. "Good plan."
They sprinted up to the safely cleared 20th floor, rushed down the corridor and down the stairs to the opposite end of the 19th floor. All of the remaining infected were still congregated at other end of the hallway, shoving against the stairwell door. In seconds, the two officers had put bullets into each zombie head.
After a quick reload, it was time to clear the business. From inside the offices on the explosion side of the building, they heard growling and then a heavy pounding on the solid wooden door. Suddenly, the thick wood began to crack under heavy blows.
Fleming and Smith backed down the corridor towards the stairwell to give themselves some room to work. "Those doors are two inches of solid hardwood," Andy commented.
"Maybe the Zs have learned how to use fire axes?" Scotty wondered.
The door continued to splinter under an unrelenting pounding. "I'm getting a bad feeling about this," Andy commented.
Wood exploded outward as the door came apart. Bodies began to push their way through the opening. The first one to make it into the hallway was a large African-American zombie, about the same size as Scotty, at least six foot five and two hundred and fifty pounds. He was wearing khakis and a navy blue polo shirt. The officers saw that his muscular forearms had been ripped open, probably by an infected co-worker's teeth.
A loud roar burst from his throat and he charged. For a man his size, his speed was amazing. In an instant, he was almost on top of the two officers. They both fired at the same time, hitting him in the head, snapping it back, and dropping him at their feet.
Those who had escaped the massacre in the corridor had escaped to a massacre in the offices. When the bombs went off, six people had been injured and infected inside the business from infected shrapnel blown through their windows. They had turned on their work colleagues and killed all of them. There were no survivors, just thirteen more zombies that wanted to kill and eat the two federal officers.
They infected rushed down the hallway into a hail of bullets. Twelve of them were cut down but the last one had run behind an obese girl and got within five feet of Scotty without being hit. When her heavy friend went down, the surviving Z launched herself through the air at the big man. He quickly sidestepped to his right and swung the stock of his rifle into the creature's head as she went by.
The folding stock of the M4 rifle knocked her to the ground and ripped open her cheek but she quickly recovered, pushing herself to her feet. Smith shot her in the side of the head, sending her back to the floor.
"What was up with them?" wondered Andy. "That big guy and that chick you just shot were like zombies on steroids?"
"That's a scary thought. But, yeah, he busted through that door like it was nothing and she was like a track star zombie competing in the high jump."
They cleared the side of the building from which the infected had just escaped. Three more were inside, still eating their dead victims. Quick head shots eliminated them.
The offices on the opposite side of the corridor contained twelve survivors locked in a back office. They were given the same command. Stay where they were at until they were rescued. This did not go over well with the terrified officer workers.
"Please don't leave us here," a middle-age white woman begged. "We saw what happened. They just started killing people."
A young African-American girl started crying, also pleading for the CDC officers to protect them. "I've got a baby, officers. I don't want my baby to grow up without me."
"I know you're scared," Andy said, trying to get everyone calmed down. "This floor is clear now. The zombies are all dead. The rest of this building has other scared people who are hiding, too. We've got to try and save them, as well. I promise, we'll send someone to come and get you."
Fleming pulled out a small notebook and wrote down which floor they were on and the number of survivors. Scotty and Andy paused to drink some water in the break room. They had both been going since before dawn and were starting to tire. Their spec ops backgrounds, though, had equipped them to push through the fatigue barrier. They just needed to take a couple of minutes and recharge their batteries.
Smith opened the refrigerator to see what was inside. A Firehouse sub sandwich, still in its wrapper, was too much to resist. He ripped it open and started devouring it.
Andy shook his head. "Man, that's low, eating somebody's food."
"Maybe, but the percentages are pretty good that we've already shot the owner of this sandwich in the head."
Fleming grunted. "That's probably true." He pulled out a Domino's pizza box from the bottom shelf of the fridge and opened it. Half of a pepperoni pizza stared out at him. He tore off several slices and joined his partner in a meager dinner.
After a ten-minute break to catch their breath, rehydrate, and down some food, they were ready to go back to work. They checked their weapons and did an ammo check. They made sure they had full magazines in their rifles as they prepared to clear the 18th floor.
#
The Islamic Center of North Georgia, Marietta, Georgia, Friday, 1900 hours
Hakeem sat transfixed in front of the TV in the imam's small dwelling. The Islamic Center contained a mosque, the house, and a multi-purpose community building and had a fence that went around the entire compound. The leader's home was set in the back corner of the property, behind the mosque and hidden from view from the street.
When the shooting had started at their North Georgia base early that morning, Hakeem and Abdul had dived into the Chevrolet van. Omar had managed to get into the Volkswagen Jetta. Alhamdulillah, thank Allah, Hakeem had had the foresight order that all keys stay in their vehicle's ignitions in case a quick getaway became necessary.
Sadly, only the three of them had escaped. Khaled had bravely engaged the many gunmen who had attacked them. Khaled's courage was what allowed Hakeem, Abdul, and Omar to escape. They would make sure that Khaled and their brothers had not died in vain.
Who were the gunmen who had attacked them? American police? Normally, the soft Americans tried to arrest you first. Not today. What he couldn't wrap his head around was, what sort of agency would just start shooting his men with no warning, cutting down the young soldiers of Allah? Maybe it was the FBI's SWAT team. But they, too, would always try to get their targets to surrender instead of just opening fire. The American police had so many rules that they had to abide by.
Hakeem had fought against the Americans in Iraq and in Afghanistan. What he'd seen today was much more indicative of the manner in which SEALS and special forces engaged in warfare. Set up an ambush and then shoot everything in the kill zone. But, the American military did not operate on their own soil, did they? No matter, Hakeem estimated that it had to have been fifteen or twenty gunmen who had engaged them this morning. Allah had spared himself and his two young soldiers for a reason.
On the television, the news channels did not know what to cover. Three simultaneous, large-scale attacks in three major cities was almost overwhelming for the news anchors. For obvious reasons, Hakeem was especially interested in what was happening in Atlanta.
A Channel 2 news helicopter showed the absolute chaos and devastation where a suicide bomber and a car bomb had detonated downtown at the 17th Street exit from I-85. Both sides of the Atlanta interstate and 17th Street itself were now shut down with packs of zombies roaming freely through the area.
The anchor woman, with an eye for the obvious, said that this appeared to be a new wave of attacks using the zombie virus. The eye in the sky helicopter cameras showed hundreds of infected people filling the
streets. Hakeem was mesmerized by the clip of a large, blood-covered African-American woman punching out the driver's side window of a passenger car that was stopped with all the other traffic on the southbound side of the interstate. The infected woman reached in and dragged a petite Asian woman out by the hair. They cut the clip as the zombie pulled the screaming woman up to her mouth.
The orders that Hakeem and his cell had received, before his men were brutally cut down, were to unleash their twenty suicide bombers on Friday. They had selected targets all over the northwest side of Atlanta. They were planning to strike malls, schools, restaurants, and other places where the infidels congregated.
Of course, Hakeem had not known about these other attacks. Each cell leader was only given the information they needed to carry out their part of the mission. After escaping with Abdul and Omar, they had driven to the Islamic Center of North Georgia. The imam was a true believer and the compound was one of their safe locations.
When they had arrived, he had carefully disarmed the suicide vests that Abdul and Omar wore and set them aside. As the news footage continued to play out, a new plan began to formulate in Hakeem's mind. His two young soldiers would still get their chance of becoming martyrs. And, Inshallah, God willing, so would Hakeem.
#
The Wells Fargo Building, Atlanta, Friday, 1915 hours
Paul and Maggie sat silently against the wall in the closest, clutching their scissors tightly. Paul held that weapon in his left hand and the metal letter opener in his right. The sounds of movement and the incessant growling outside their hiding place had them both terrified. They didn't think that the zombies knew they were inside but there was no way for the two survivors to make their escape, either. They were trapped in the small room.
As they sat staring at the door, willing the creatures to go somewhere else, Paul saw another weapon right in front of him. A fire extinguisher was hanging from the wall, next to the door. He had played enough zombie video games to know that you had to damage the brain to put them down for good. The heavy fire extinguisher would be much more useful than the scissors and letter opener.
He whispered to Maggie what he was going to do. She looked over at the red extinguisher and nodded at him. He quietly got to his feet and approached the door. For the moment, there were no sounds from the other side and the two survivors hoped the infected had wandered off to another area of the business.
The device was held to the wall by two metal brackets. Kowalski got the top open without a sound. The bottom one, however, would not budge and he had force it. Suddenly, the bracket popped open with a loud snap and recoiled into the wall.
He glanced over at Maggie who jumped at the loud noise. Her eyes opened wide with fear. Paul mouthed, "I'm sorry," and pulled the fire extinguisher free.
A body slammed into their door, and then another. Groaning and growling zombies were now congregating outside the supply closet. Suddenly, a powerful blow shook the door frame. It sounded like one of the Zs was using a battering ram.
On the other side of the supply room stood sixteen of the creatures. In front of the group was Matt. Matt had a muscular five foot eleven frame and, in life, had been a CrossFit instructor in his spare time. He had survived the initial explosion, hidden under his desk while his colleagues had been infected, turned, and started attacking people.
When the Zs moved to the other side of the offices to look for fresh victims, he had climbed out from his hiding place to be greeted by the car bomb going off. Matt was struck by flying glass and several pieces of shrapnel. The potent mixture of the virus and the radioactive waste turned his natural strength into something much more lethal than a normal zombie.
His third punch to the supply closet door broke most of the bones in his hand. Feeling no pain, he used both fists to pound the door. Even after destroying all the bones in his both hands, he continued smashing the wood, trying to get to the people inside. He craved human flesh and he could now smell fresh victims on the other side of the door. The wood finally began to crack.
Maggie was crying hysterically standing behind Paul. "They're going to kill us! We're trapped and we're going to die in here!"
Paul agreed with her assessment. He didn't think he would be playing any video games tonight or ever again. This was it. He was terrified.
"No, we're ok," he said. "When they get the door open, I'm going to rush through them in melee mode with the fire extinguisher. I'll clear a path and you run for the front door. I'll be right behind you. If they get too close to you, stab them in the eye with your scissors."
His reference to "melee mode" made her smile and shake her head, even as she wiped the tears from her eyes so she could see. Most first-person shooter video games have this function in which the character one is playing can go on the attack with a contact weapon when the enemies get too close.
Paul's positive attitude calmed her down a little and she took a deep breath. The door was splintering and Maggie knew they only had seconds before they would meet their fate. The growling got louder as the Zs anticipated another meal. The weakened door finally collapsed inward.
Fleming and Smith paused at the stairwell door leading to the 18th floor. They could not see or hear anything. This time, Scotty eased the door open and peered out into the corridor.
He quietly closed it, a disgusted look on his face. "Three Zs eating somebody about halfway down. They've ripped them apart. There's no way that victim's going to turn. There isn't enough left. They have their backs to us so can take them out before they know what happened."
Andy nodded and they quietly stepped through the doorway into the hall. As Fleming raised his rifle, he saw what Scotty was talking about. An arm and a leg had been ripped off of the victim and blood had sprayed the walls and coated the floor.
"This job isn't for the faint of heart," he commented to his partner.
Three shots eliminated the three infected. The men moved to the office doors on their right. There was no question as to whether or not there were zombies inside. The loud banging and growling noises carried into the hallway.
"It sounds like they're busy for the moment so maybe we can get in without them knowing it," Fleming said.
He turned the handle and pulled the door open. Another dismembered corpse was just inside. This was not like anything they had encountered so far in their dealings with the zombie virus. They had come across bodies that had been eaten or partially eaten by the infected. Some of the dead that they were finding here, though, looked like the Incredible Hulk had ripped them apart, limb from limb. What was going on?
The two officers found themselves in a reception area. Thirty feet down the hallway to their left, a large group of zombies were clustered around a door, trying to smash it open. They stepped over what was left of the blonde receptionist and raised their rifles.
As the door of the supply closet cracked and came open under the onslaught of the zombies, Paul Kowalski raised the fire extinguisher. Maggie Warren stood behind him, clutching her scissors in one hand and the letter opener that Paul had given her in the other. Matt, the former CrossFit instructor-turned-zombie, saw the two people inside and rushed towards them with a loud snarl, his muscular arms outstretched.
Paul swung the extinguisher and hit Matt full in the face, knocking him backwards. He stumbled into two other infected who were trying to get into the closet, knocking them back into the hall. Matt stayed on his feet, though, and his growl sounded like a roar as he charged again.
Kowalski was ready and this time the red canister hit Matt on the left side of his head and knocked him to the floor. Gunshots sounded from around the corner and the Zs in the hallway started collapsing. A voice boomed, "Hey, dead people, you want a bite of something sweet? I'm right here!"
The distraction caused the zombies to quickly lose interest in Paul and Maggie and turn towards the new people. The shots continued to explode heads and stack the hallway with bodies. Movement caught Kowalski's attention and he saw Matt trying to
push himself to his feet. Paul saw that the left side of his skull was caved in from the fire extinguisher. He swung it again before the muscular zombie could stand, this time fracturing the back of his skull. Matt fell facedown and was still.
Andy and Scotty shot six of the infected before the rest of the mob registered that there was more fresh meat only thirty feet away. Scotty yelled at them to turn their attention away from whoever was hiding behind the door they had just smashed open.
Smith placed the red dot of his EOTech scope on an older white woman's forehead. Her eyes were glazed over and her face was covered with blood. She was walking quickly towards the two officers. When he pulled the trigger of the M4 rifle, nothing happened.
Police officers and soldiers are taught to perform an immediate action drill if their weapon ever fails to fire. They drill over and over so that it becomes second nature. Scotty tapped the bottom of the thirty round magazine to make sure that it was seated in the rifle. He then pulled the charging handle to the rear and let it slam forward. This simple drill clears ninety-five percent of all weapon malfunctions. It did not clear his. He saw that the bolt would not go all the way forward which probably meant he had a double feed. For the moment, his rifle was useless.
Andy shot the woman and was still engaging targets. The last six infected were less than ten feet away now. Scotty let the rifle drop across his chest to hang by its sling, drew his Glock pistol, and started firing. In seconds, the last Z fell dead at their feet.
"CDC police officers," Fleming called. "Is anybody in there?" He moved down the hallway to the closet, stepping over the zombie bodies, his rifle at a low ready.
"Yeah, thank God you guys are here," a man called.
Scotty watched their backs as Andy peered into the closest and saw a heavyset man with a goatee and a dark haired woman. She was clutching scissors and a letter opener and the guy was holding a fire extinguisher, dripping with blood and brain matter. A muscular zombie lay facedown in the closet, the damage to his head evident.
