No Room In Hell (Book 1): The Good, The Bad and The Undead

by William Schlichter

  “We don’t use the grenades to attack the DKs. We use them to explode the gas tanks of the cars under the undead pile.”

  “Good idea, but couldn’t that set off a chain reaction to all these cars?”

  The machine gun fire slows as the moan-howls get louder.

  “Fire break.” Tom punctures the gas tank of the nearest car. Gas floods out. “No gas, no secondary explosions.”

  Danziger gives everyone two grenades.

  Tom punctures the next car’s tank and moves onto the third. “When I say, pull the pin and throw. Try and aim for the back of the car and then run back about five cars.” He slams his knife into another car. He hopes without gas these cars won’t explode. The machine gun fire dissipates. The screaming moan-howls of the DKs replace the rattling fire.

  “Now!” Tom hollers tossing his two grenades and diving into the ditch. Danziger throws his two before diving over the median wall. Howie and James throw and run from the punctured cars. Rapid explosions replace more explosions. Chunks of car, twisted metal and flaming suitcases of clothes rain down on the interstate.

  Forced to dive for cover from the shower of flames, the soldiers stop shooting. The undead hoard swarms through the fire as if none of the cars are burning. The fires destroy a few Infected, but most just emerge fully engulfed in flames. They shamble forward, burning. Searching for prey to satisfy their hunger. Danziger props his arms over the median barrier and takes aim. He pops an Infected. It goes down tripping two engulfed corpses behind it.

  Tom pulls himself from the ditch. He runs. The pile of lifeless bodies the Infected scale to reach the soldiers on the overpass blazes in flames. The corpses spill into burning rings of fire. The soldiers line the guard rail and turn sniper. They pick off shambling cadavers as they stagger toward Howie and James.

  “Tom, move to the divider. Get into the southbound lane!” Danziger pops another DK. He takes aim before squeezing the trigger again. He must make every shot count.

  Tom skirts between the vehicles, zig-zagging back a car and over a car to reach the concrete median, avoiding the undead.

  “Before we all crawl over this wall, what do we want to do?”

  “I say we join the soldiers,” Danziger chooses.

  “I vote the soldiers,” Howie agrees, handing his shotgun to Danziger flipping himself onto the median and over the wall.

  “Head to the off-ramp,” Tom points out. “Before the DKs. The fire’s not stopping them.”

  “Not until the brain cooks, and that takes time,” Danziger adds.

  “Let’s just move. Those soldiers won’t cover us forever.” James throws himself up onto the concrete median.

  The foursome hoofs it toward the southbound on-ramp. Rifle in hand, Tom returns to his bob and weave pattern, Howie on his heels.

  The soldiers cease their fire into the herd. They let the Infected on fire just burn, none of them capable of scuttling over the median to reach the overpass.

  Danziger keeps his pace to a jog. The other three sweat in their heavy camo coats.

  They reach the edge of the overpass. A female soldier swings her rifle over the edge pointing directly at Danziger. “Halt or I shoot!”

  Danziger throws his hands in the air. “We’re on your side.” Howl-moans of DKs screech from the flames.

  “Our side? You dumbass! Explosion will draw every Infected from here to the river.”

  Danziger hadn’t realized. He just wanted to save the soldiers.

  “Look, lady, if you’re right then we need to get out of here,” Tom spits and pants from his run.

  “There’s no we, civi.”

  “You’re not here to protect civilians?” James falls into shock as his disillusionment of the military sinks in.

  “If you’re not here to help civilians then what are you here for?” Danziger’s not sure he wants the reply.

  “Not here to answer to you,” she snaps. She wears no rank or other identifying patches on her uniform.

  “One thing’s for sure, we’re more likely to survive if we all work together.” Tom reaches the top of the off-ramp.

  A few soldiers shoot at DKs. The rest inspect their gear and repack supplies to compensate for a dead soldier.

  “You aren’t qualified to assist us.” She snaps the dog tags from the dead man’s neck. “Evident from your debacle with the grenades.”

  “You’re a resonance team. We’re natives of this city. We can assist and you’re a man short,” Tom offers.

  As she checks the dead soldier’s pocket and removes his last letter to his family, the man bolts up. Before he sinks his teeth into the girl, Tom fires.

  “What the fuck!” She points her pistol at Tom’s head. The soldiers support her by swinging their weapons at Tom.

  “Wait. Wait! Wait!” Danziger lowers his own gun to the pavement. “He turned.”

  “You better start fucking explaining,” she demands.

  “Was he bitten by one of the DKs?” Tom lowers his rifle.

  “We know those corpses didn’t shoot him,” Howie attempts to help.

  Tom snaps his friend a ‘shut the hell up’ stare.

  “How do you think what you call ‘the Infected’ grow in number?” Tom keeps his voice at a reasonable tone.

  “Our briefing didn’t contain said information.” She lowers her pistol.

  “Again, I want to offer our help.”

  The tall soldier nods at her.

  “We’re not here to recon the bridges.”

  “What?” Danziger grabs his pistol.

  “Teams have been dropped into the city to blow holes in the bridges to prevent the flow of these monsters in and out of the city. We’ve been instructed to destroy all the river bridges.”

  “Trapping the living.”

  “Not the entire bridge. Just enough of a gap preventing the Infected from crossing. Later a bridge layer tank seals the gap.” She seems confident with this explanation.

  “You’re ten miles from the nearest bridge,” James points out.

  “Our chopper experienced engine trouble. The pilot set down here then took off. We saw him land over there, but no smoke from a crash.”

  “We thought that area was heavily infested,” Tom admits.

  “Not since your explosion drew them this way.”

  “We’d better get moving before more DKs come here. They love noise.”

  “What bridge was your team assigned?” Tom asks

  “I-70 Bridge over the Missouri River.” She slings her bag over her shoulder and hands the fallen soldiers Colt 9mm SMG to Danziger. “You look like you need a weapon.”

  “The Blanchette Bridge—still a good ways down the road.” James points north.

  “We were going to turn on Highway 64 and head west,” Tom explains. “We’re trying to help Danziger here.”

  “Why’s this civi so important?” She gives him one extra clip. “All I can spare.”

  “I was a cop in pursuit of the Blonde Teen Slasher. He’s taken refuge in the caravan heading toward Fort Wood.”

  “Then why the hell didn’t you arrest him?” She waves her soldiers to move. They scout down the on-ramp.

  “The men guarding the caravan ran me off. We are circumventing them.”

  “I suggest you get moving before more Infected crawl this way.”

  “Don’t you soldiers still need a guide?”

  “We’ll follow this highway.” She jogs after her team.

  “What if you have to abandon it?”

  “We’re Marines. We’ll improvise and overcome.”

  “James, you and Howie guide them. I’ll help Danziger find this killer.”

  “Tom, I don’t think we should split up.”

  “Howie, if they are blowing the bridges it’s because the military’s working on a counter strike to take back the city. With two swift moving rivers at their backs they’ll take back our country. And you run faster than me. Go.”

  Howie and James follow the female Marine.
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br />   Danziger inspects his new rifle. “You believe they plan to take back St. Louis?”

  “Why else would they blow only part of the bridges?”

  Danziger doesn’t want to accept a military abandonment. Besides blowing the Blanchette Bridge would only make sense if they were going to clear the city as a beachhead to take back the west side of the river.

  “You don’t have to come with me. Assist your friends with the bridges.”

  “No, you need to get to this caravan. If you don’t, no one will even know this killer’s still at large.”

  CHAD SLAPS THE side of a plastic bucket. “Come get it!” he howls.

  The semi-truck cattle trailer backs through the gate over the cattle guard into the field. The air brakes hiss. Men scamper out. One man bounds up the ladder to the roof of the trailer while two more open the back. A second semi-truck without a trailer, and a suburban park along the road. Men with rifles hop out securing the area. They move with experience, but not like battle-hardened soldiers. A second four door Jeep stops and Emily’s savior gets out, pulling on his black duster coat.

  “We’re secure, boss,” Linzell reports.

  “Keep an eye out. The biters like to keep to the interstate and this place’s off the beaten path, but there are lots of cattle. We still don’t understand what attracts the biters.”

  “I thought it was noise.”

  “Sound draws them big time, but who knows what else still works in reptilian brains.” He doubts science will be anything more than educated guesses when it comes to the undead.

  “Chad’s sure making a lot of noise.”

  “They’ll come to the bucket. I bet those cattle haven’t had corn feed in a while.”

  “You know a lot about farming, boss?” Linzell detects a hint of experience in the man next to him.

  “I know some, but we’ve real experts back at the camp. People who wanted to grow up and become farmers. We’ll just bag’m and tag’m.”

  “Wish the vet we had knew something.”

  “She does, she was just trained in small animal care. It’s better than nothing. Besides, Linzell, you don’t exactly strike me as a farm boy yourself. You seem to lack a distinctive farmer’s tan.”

  Linzell laughs from his gut. “White people, still find ways to make racist jokes, even after the world ends.”

  “It’s our one skill—oppressing the minorities.”

  Linzell stops laughing. “The only minority any more’s the living.”

  A Black Angus cow pokes its head from the tree line. Chad shakes the bucket sloshing the grain around inside.

  “It certainly changes the ‘us versus them’ mentality.” The glint of metal in the sunlight catches his eye. Two more cattle amble from the trees. Chad sloshes the bucket. They trot toward the sound of shuffling grain.

  “Linzell,” he whispers, “circle wide and come up behind where those cows came out of the trees.” He nods his head in the direction he wants the young man to head.

  “You spot something, boss?”

  “Not a biter, the cattle are too calm.” He mouths the words, barely moving his lips to give his order. Linzell follows the instructions.

  “About twenty so far, boss.” Chad beams.

  Emily’s savior joins Chad as more cattle burst from the woods.

  “The trailer holds sixty.”

  “I heard Dartagnan’s numbers…”

  “I trust the kid’s figures completely, but computations don’t take all variables into account. They aren’t always black and white answers.”

  “But too many cattle will eat all the grass and then die. So why take more than we can feed?” The heifers trot at Chad’s shaking bucket. He steps backward slowly toward the trailer.

  One cow walks among the trotting herd.

  “Dartagnan doesn’t take into consideration outside factors, like we’re here now and can get cattle. We’ll need more in a few months and we may not be able to find—” His .357 leaps into his hand level with the double barrel shotgun of an overall clad farmer.

  “Damn you’re fast, boy.”

  Chad drops the bucket. “Where the fuck did old MacDonald come from?” The cattle attack the spilt grain.

  “Get the bucket and get these heifers on the truck,” he instructs Chad.

  “We still shoot cattle rustlers in this state.” the farmer shifts his barrel to Chad.

  “You’re not going to shoot and you should have kept your gun on me.”

  The farmer slides the barrel end back at him. “Happy now?”

  “Can’t let you shoot my crew.”

  “Can’t let you steal my livelihood,” the farmer responds.

  “You want to explain to me how this is still your livelihood, and leave out the part about how your daddy’s granddaddy built this farm with his bare hands.”

  “You’re a smartass cattle thief.”

  The men securing the trailer and road take aim with their rifles.

  “We’ve got you dead to rights,” Chad brags.

  “Shut up, Chad.”

  “Maybe so, but I’ve got you. Your group looks like it would fall apart without their leader.”

  “They might.” He never breaks from his calm demeanor.

  “Just shoot him,” Chad panics.

  “Shut-up, Chad. Scatter gun will hit you too, if loaded with buckshot.”

  “You’re too calm. This’s not the first loaded gun shoved at you,” the farmer deduces.

  “Only way to be with a gun in your face.” He places his finger on the hammer and squeezes the magnum’s trigger enough to decock the gun. “I tell you what, I’ll offer you a proposal.”

  Two teenage boys, both with rifles, shove Linzell from the tree line. “Dad! We got one.”

  “Seems like you wanted to offer me a proposal.” The farmer feels he now has the upper hand with a human as a bargaining chip.

  The thought flashes through his mind he should just have shot the glint of metal when he first spotted it and prevented all of this. The cattle would have scattered, but they could be rounded up again. Just taking what they need to survive should be enough justification for killing this man. He has an entire group to protect and provide for. What’s one more dead farmer in a world of the walking dead.

  “I want to offer you my proposal.”

  “I’m listening.” The farmer keeps his gun aimed.

  “I take you, and your family, along with the cattle, back to our community.”

  “Not much of an offer. We’ve only seen a few of those rot-bags around here.”

  “You’ll see more as they run out of food in the city. So far they tend to cling to the interstate. People are still stupid enough to travel along them. These cows will attract hungry undead soon enough.”

  “I’ve killed a few more rot-bags lately than at first.”

  “Sixty cows fit in our trailer. Your experience won’t go without merit.”

  The farmer lowers the shotgun. “What about my family?”

  The two stout farm boys bring Linzell to their dad.

  “Pack them up.” He waves to his crew and they lower their rifles. “We’ve a fenced in compound, but we have a few non-negotiable rules.”

  “What are they?”

  “After properly trained, everyone carries. You seem to understand the need for a gun. Everyone works, or they don’t eat. I bet the only thing changing for you is the location.”

  “Nothing unreasonable so far.”

  “A few other minor things, we’re a little short on housing right now so you’ll bunk in a community building until we have you a new farmhouse, but since you come with the cattle, I’ll accelerate you into a family house.”

  “I’ve goats, too.”

  “You a trailer to haul them?” he asks.

  “Yep.”

  “What are we going to do with goats?” Chad asks.

  “Milk and cheese.”

  “From goats?” Chad’s face melts in disgust.

  “You’ll get us
ed to the taste,” he snaps at the kid.

  The farmer drops the shotgun to his side and offers his hand in friendship.

  “I’ll take you at your word.”

  He holsters his magnum and returns the firm grip. “My camp could use a few more farmers.”

  “It seems like it.”

  A woman in well-worn overalls carries buckets to the truck.

  A young girl carries a baby goat. “Why do we have to move, Mom?”

  “We’re going someplace safer,” she assures the little girl.

  Emily’s rescuer places a box in the back of a dually truck attached to a gooseneck trailer. “We’ve built a wall to keep biters out.” He takes another box from Linzell. “You’re lucky you get to pack and bring the things that are important to you. Most people I help don’t get the option to bring their pets.”

  “This isn’t my pet.” The little girl runs back to the house.

  “You’re not good at consoling children.” The mother scowls.

  “I used to be, but now all that ‘Jimmy broke up with Suzy to date Jenny all before lunch’ garbage seems to pale compared to dealing with biters.” The mother gives him the buckets and runs after her daughter.

  “Cynical much?” Linzell adds.

  “Linzell, my friend, it keeps me alive.” He pats the young man’s shoulder. “Go back with these people and have Wanikiya set them up. Since they are responsible for the goats, they need a farmhouse as soon as we have one.”

  “I thought we went on seniority? I was hoping to move out of the bunkhouse,” Linzell whines.

  “Seniority’s about the fairest method, but exceptions are necessary when feasible. The engineer I saved to help run the hydro plant. We got him a house quick.”

  “So expertise trumps seniority?”

  “Experience adds to seniority, as it should.”

  “You’re the boss, boss. But shouldn’t you send someone else? Those boys got the jump on me. We had some words.”

  “I want it to be you. I want no hard feelings between any of us. You escorting them shows you understand why they took you captive. I know not everyone will like each other, but one thing we have to do is live together without needless conflict.”

  “I don’t think those boys like me.”