by R. J. Spears
In the end, it really didn’t matter how good of a shot we were. There were four of us, and God only knows how many of them. I just knew for every one we took down, three more appeared on the scene like the hydra, only uglier and stinkier. Zombie bodies littered the ground in both directions, but their supply of replacements seemed endless.
“We’re getting boxed in here, Greg,” I shouted.
“I only have two clips left,” Kara said.
Travis didn’t say anything, but fear was creeping back into his eyes.
The zombies, drawn in by the sounds of our guns, kept streaming from the E.R. out of the west and around from the main entrance to the east. The quickest route to the SUV was the west, but shooting our way past the zombies seemed like a long shot now.
Our choices were quite limited, in my opinion. We could head back into the hospital, but the zombies clawing at the windows on the inside didn’t seem all that inviting. To our south was a drop-off that led down to some woods and a stream. The drop-off wasn’t too steep, and only a few zombies had clamored up from that direction.
Greg had reached the same conclusion, “We’re going to have to make a run for it. We’re going to head towards the woods.”
“How are we going to make it carrying all this stuff?” Travis asked.
“We’re not,” Greg said as he fired off another shot. The brains of a zombie to our west splattered across the parking lot, and the zombie collapsed.
“But my dad needs this equipment,” Travis said.
“There was no way we could retreat carrying it,” I said, and the word retreat felt heavy as I said it.
“We have to leave it behind for now. We’ll get to the SUV and ram our way back to it once this crowd thins out some,” Greg said.
“But what if we can’t make it back?” Travis asked.
“There is almost no chance we can make it out of here if we try to carry the equipment which means your dad has no chance,” I said. I stopped talking for a moment and put a bullet in the brainpan of an approaching zombie, sending it to whatever zombie hell I hoped there was.
“End of discussion, folks,” Greg said, “let’s move out. Travis and Joel, go first. Kara and I will protect our rear. Once we’re in the woods, try not to shoot unless you have to. Any shots will be like a beacon they can follow. Now, go.”
I didn’t need any more encouragement. I started to move but took a quick look back and saw Travis, his head swiveling to look at the woods, but then I looked back to the medical equipment, frozen in indecision.
“Travis, we’ve got to go,” I shouted.
He looked at me pleadingly, not wanting to give up.
“We’ll come back for it. I promise,” I said.
Kara took out another zombie, but it had made it to within ten feet of us. Too close, in my book. Travis started in motion, and we were on the move. I heard Kara and Greg following close behind.
There was a slight lip at the edge of the parking lot. We crossed it, and then we were running on a grassy decline towards the woods. I looked back to make sure Travis was following me. He was, but his expression was stricken with guilt. When I turned back around, I immediately saw a zombie stumble out from behind a large tree just five feet in front of me. My momentum was such that I’d never slowdown in time to prevent an eventual collision, so I used it to my advantage and brought up my rifle butt and rammed it into the zombie’s face. Bone crunched on impact, and the zombie went down as its face collapsed into its brain cavity. It wasn’t a pretty sight and smelled even worse.
As a kid, I had played in these woods many weekends, exploring the stream, looking for crawdads, and other creatures. I’d spend hours here, swinging on vines, building dams, and goofing off with my friends. In most cases, I usually ended up with poison ivy.
Poison ivy was the least of my worries as we ran. This little patch of woods was long and narrow, stretching from east to west. I remembered that there was a row of houses to the south, but that would put us on open ground, so I decided to run eastward to use the trees to hide our movements. I headed us into the stream to avoid any entanglements with vines or bushes. The stream was very shallow, but I still felt the icy cold water soaking through my shoes.
After splashing down the stream for another fifty feet, I saw that we were running out of woods, and a street was visible just ahead, so I decided to stop to take an assessment. I was nearly run over by the rest of the crew as they rammed into me, but we avoided a pileup.
“What do we have behind us?” I asked.
“They’re following us into the woods, alright,” Greg said, “but we have a good lead on them. We can’t stay still long.”
“Understood,” I said, “we have a street just south of us. We could head there and wait for the horde to disperse. That could be some time, though.”
“What choice do we have?” Kara asked.
Travis’s face was etched with concern. Time might not be something Hub had.
“What if we created a distraction to pull them away?” Travis asked, “then we could get the supplies and head out.”
“That’s a dangerous game,” Greg said, “there’s a crapload of them. It would take some time to pull them away, and they could just as easily split: half staying around the supplies, and half coming after us again. If anything would go wrong…. Well, I don’t have to say it.”
“I’m willing to risk it,” Travis said.
“I know you are,” Greg said, “but I think the risk is too high.”
“My dad’s dying is a certainty,” Travis replied, “we need that stuff, and we need it now.”
I decided I couldn’t stand on the sidelines in this discussion. “We’ve already risked a lot for those supplies. I say it’s worth a little extra risk.”
“It’s more than a little extra risk,” Kara said.
“Agreed,” Greg said, but he could see that this was a bone Travis wasn’t going to let go of. “Do you have a plan?”
Travis reached into one of the side pockets of his pants and pulled out a flare. “I think I saw a car up on the road. I could go up there, fire off a couple of rounds, and set the car on fire. That should draw some attention. You guys could circle around, get the truck, and come back to get the supplies.”
“But that would leaving you on the other side of the mob,” Kara said.
“If I have to, I can run for it,” Travis said. “I’ll use my walkie-talkie to tell you where I end up.”
I could see that Greg was mulling this over. It took him a few seconds, but he finally gave into the idea. “You’ll really have to draw the majority of them away. The truck can take out quite a few, but it could get caught up in a large group.”
“Consider it done,” Travis said with more confidence than I could ever bring to the game.
“Okay, you give us ten minutes to work our way around to the truck; then, start your diversion.”
Travis nodded, and the game was afoot.
Getting around the trailing zombies was easier said than done because we had not to just get by them, but we had to do it stealthily. To make better time, we kept to a side street rather than going through the woods again. Jogging along, we had made it about halfway down the block when two zombies clamored out from behind a car and started toward us.
Kara stopped and shouldered her rifle, but Greg shot out a hand and pushed it back down.
“We have to do this quietly, or else all of them will come down on us,” Greg said.
Greg pulled out his ax, and I brought out my bat. Just for the record, neither zombie was the least bit intimidated as we strode toward them. They should have been.
I was on a collision course for a medium-sized zombie in a nice suit. Well, the suit had been nice at some point. But it was missing a sleeve and was covered in dried blood. For a zombie, he looked in fairly good shape with the exception of the bite-sized hole in his cheek. I was about five feet away from him when I said, “Batter up,” as I brought the bat back. This swing was for Hu
b. This swing was for Chuck. This swing was for all the people we had lost, and for all the pain in the ass these damned zombies were.
I felt the tendons and muscles in my shoulders and back tense as I coiled myself, bringing the bat back to the furthest set position I had ever accomplished. It felt as if something in me clicked, and that was a cue to swing forward. I would swear that no baseball player on the earth had a better swing than I had on that day. Not Babe Ruth. Not Hank Aaron. And it was certainly better than the steroid-laced players of the modern era.
The bat whistled through the air like a guided missile, and I connected with the side of the thing’s head. It was a solid hit. Had it been a baseball, it would have sailed over the 385 feet sign at any major league stadium. As it was, the zombie’s head whipped so violently that the creature left its feet as the momentum from the crushing blow sent it from the center of the street to the curb where it landed motionless.
I didn’t see Greg in actual action, but his success rivaled mine as I saw a severed head rolling down the centerline in the street for fifteen feet before it veered off and gently came to rest against the side of an old Cadillac’s back tire. The zombie’s body lay headless in the street next to Greg.
I knew it was bad form, but I stood there marveling at my accomplishment for a good ten seconds before Kara bumped into me and said, “Stop appreciating your handiwork, Mr. Baseball.”
Nonchalantly, I returned my bat to its sling holder, and we moved down the street and into a thicket of woods where we took a wide arc around the hospital grounds hopefully to avoid any more encounters with the dead. As we moved through the woods, I took quick peeks back at the hospital and saw the zombies swarming around the backside of the main building. Most hovered around the spot where we had dropped all the medical equipment. Others wandered into the woods, presumably in search of us.
It took about five or so minutes, and then we broke out of the woods and back onto a city street. We hustled along towards where Greg had backed the SUV into a partially submerged driveway to keep it out of view. Just as we reached the driveway, the walkie-talkie at Greg’s waist sounded.
It was Travis. “I’m in position. I’ve got a car ready to push down the street. I was able to siphon off some gas and soaked it thoroughly.”
“Where’d you get a siphon?” Greg asked.
“I grabbed a garden hose from one of the houses,” Travis replied.
“Good thinking,” Greg said, and I agreed. “We’re at the SUV. I think it’s safe for you to proceed. You get ready to run once you set the diversion in motion.”
“Will do,” Travis said.
“If everything goes south and we lose communication, let’s plan on meeting at the pharmacy at Coles and Dorman Streets, okay?”
“Sure,” Travis responded, “just get the supplies. If I’m not there in an hour, go on without with me.”
“We’re not doing that,” Greg responded.
“Yes, you are. My dad needs that stuff. If I’m not there in an hour, then I probably won’t ever will be.”
His words hung in the air like heavy smoke, and then we let them float away. He was right. Time was working against us.
“Okay,” Greg finally said, “one hour. Now, get moving, and let us know when the bulk of them are headed your way.”
We jumped in the SUV, and Greg got behind the wheel and started it up. He handed the walkie-talkie to me, edged out of the driveway cautiously, and crept down the street towards the back of the hospital. I rolled down the window and strained to hear any gunshots that would tell us that Travis had put his plan into action.
We were in a sticky position. We wanted a better view of the back of the hospital and the zombies. But if we could see them, then that meant they could see us, and we didn’t want that. They had to be moving away from us so that we could sweep in and get the supplies without being caught up in a mob of the undead.
I finally decided to make a suggestion. “Greg, stop here.” He gently applied the brakes. “I’ll get out and walk up to a good vantage point. A person will be harder to spot than this truck. Once I see the zombies clearing out, I’ll motion you forward.”
What could he say? “Okay, but don’t stick your neck out too far,” he said.
“I wasn’t planning on it,” I said.
“Well, you have a history of doing the opposite of what people tell you,” he said.
“Seconded,” Kara added.
“Well, not this time then,” I said as I opened the door and stepped out. It took less than thirty seconds for me to get in position behind an abandoned cargo van, allowing me a good view of the back of the hospital.
In the short time we had been on the move, it looked as if the zombies that had wandered into the woods had returned to mill about with the others. There was a difference in the wandering of this group. It was as if they were agitated. My observation certainly wasn’t scientific, but something seemed off in them.
I didn’t get to observe long because I was in place for less than a minute when the report of three shots sounded. I looked back to Greg in the SUV, and he gave me the thumbs up. Travis’s plan was in motion. I turned my attention back to the mob of undead and saw a couple of them peel off from the crowd and start in the direction of the shots. A few seconds later, I saw thick black smoke billow in the air from the same direction. Travis must have set the car on fire. Combining auditory and visual enticements seemed to work the trick as more zombies started in that direction. They came across as eager as if they were headed for the weekend weenie roast and didn’t want to be late. Fortunately, while they seemed to have a healthy respect for fire, they were undeterred unless the flames were up and in their faces.
I looked back to the SUV and held up my index finger, telling them to hold on a minute. Travis fired off three more rounds, and something broke in the throng. They started moving away from the back of the building and towards the commotion.
In most cases, their staggeringly slow pace would work in our favor, but this was one of those times in which I wished they could speed it up some. It was going to take some time for them to make their way away from the supplies and we’d just have to be patient. The SUV could bully its way through a dozen or so zombies, but it was too risky to take on a mob. So, we played the waiting game.
It was another few minutes before the critical mass was gone. I motioned for Greg to move up. He punched the gas and was up beside me in seconds. I jumped in right away, and he was in motion before I had closed my door.
“They’re chasing Travis up the hill,” Kara said, leaning over the back seat with the walkie-talkie in her hand.
Travis reported in, “They’re moving past the burning car and in my direction. I think I can keep them at a safe distance.”
“Don’t push it,” Kara said, “enough have moved away, and we’re going after the supplies.”
“Don’t worry; I won’t take any more risks,” he said and signed off. The plan was for him to circle around the way we had escaped through the woods. He would meet us back at the place where we had stored the SUV.
Greg jammed the accelerator, and off we went to the zombie hospital, where the dead came for all their health and beauty needs. A few wanderers were doing the zombie shuffle in the back lot as we passed by them. I would imagine that they looked at us as meals on wheels, but were frustrated when we didn’t stop to let them have a bite. The numbers increased as we drove by the E.R. Greg was doing his best to steer around them, but some collisions were unavoidable, and let me say, I had no problem with it.
A smaller female zombie hitched out in front of us, her arms up in the air as if her hunger could stop our SUV. It didn’t. Greg smashed into her, and she bounced off of the left front fender as if she had been brought down by an NFL tackle. She rolled across the asphalt, taking off copious amounts of skin and breaking a lot of bones.
Greg rammed a large male zombie knocking him under the front grill. I felt multiple impacts on the undercarriage as we rolled
over him. Score another one for the good guys.
Travis’s ploy had worked quite well, but not perfectly. We could see zombies streaming down the hill towards the smoke of the car fire like moths to a flame, but there were at least a dozen zombies in the vicinity of the medical supplies. Greg hit the gas pedal hard and plowed through three, taking them out of the game permanently. He swerved slightly and incapacitated two more by literally running them over and leaving them under the truck when he stopped. They weren’t dead, but they were seriously messed up.
That left seven for us to either take out or avoid. Avoiding them and getting the medical supplies in the SUV in a timely manner seemed challenging. Added to that, we didn’t want to make too much noise, so that left us with hand-to-hand weapons again. My arms ached from all the swinging.
“Joel, you and I will take out the few wanderers while you load, Kara,” Greg said. “If we get them thinned out enough, one of us will help you.”
I was the first to get out. An elderly male zombie targeted me as his next meal option and moved towards me at a geriatric pace. Since our time was limited, I decided to hasten our encounter and drew out my baseball bat as I bore down on him. With a quick but vicious swing, he was down for the count. Taking out grandpa zombie gave me no joy though. I was sick of zombies by then.
Greg wielded his ax with deadly efficiency as he took down a zombie in scrubs. His ax bit deep into the zombie’s skull with a chunk, and the zombie fell to the pavement. Greg put a foot against the zombie’s skull and yanked the ax free as he prepared to take out another one.
Kara grabbed the first set of items and shoved them into the back of the SUV as I waited for a lady in a smart, but tattered business suit to come into my swinging range. She had on a nice gold nameplate with her name on it. I didn’t take the time to read it. It was always better to keep things impersonal in the zombie-killing game. I swung for her head, but she got an arm in the way, slightly deflecting my blow. Still, I had enough of my swing to put a big dent in her head to take her out of action.
