by R. J. Spears
Greg took down another with his ax. No head rolled away this time, though. Kara moved two more loads into the back of the SUV.
A wobbly zombie with a gaping hole in its skull stutter-stepped toward me, reminding me of a bad break-dancer trying to do the robot. Really, it was bad. I felt myself about to laugh when Kara cried out. I turned to see what was up and watched in horror as a claw-like hand wrapped around her ankle coming from under the SUV. Apparently, one of the incapacitated zombies wasn’t so incapacitated. Kara was holding her own for the moment as she stomped down on the zombie’s hands, so I took down the break-dancer and ran back her way.
She yanked her leg back, but the thing held on like a tick. Half of its upper torso was now visible from beneath SUV. Being run over didn’t help its looks. Big patches of skin were scraped free from its skull, revealing shining white bone. Long clumps of hair hung on by tendrils from her head, blowing in the breeze like streamers.
I got beside Kara and decided I couldn’t go with a full swing, so instead, I just rammed the barrel of the bat down on the thing’s head, caving in its skull. Its grip loosened, and Kara managed to pull her away.
“Thanks,” she said.
“Anytime, honey. How about some sugar?” I asked puckering my lips.
She just shook her head.
“How many more loads?” I asked.
“One or two.”
“Good because I think the zombies have become bored with the bonfire and wiener roast.” A few of the zombies that had drifted down the hill towards the fire now trudged back our way.
Greg took the legs out from under a lanky male zombie, and when it fell to the pavement, he bashed out what was left of its brains. The vicinity was clear enough that I grabbed the last load of supplies and placed it in the back of the SUV.
“We’re loaded,” I yelled to Greg.
He didn’t need any more encouragement and came back to us at a run. When he got in behind the wheel, he said, “I just hope Travis is back at the meeting spot.”
For good measure, Greg rolled over a couple more zombies as he passed the E.R. doing about forty miles per hour. Once we crested the slight hill and we passed the administration building, we saw Travis coming down the middle of the street in our direction.
“I told him to stay put,” Greg said, his voice edging past annoyance towards anger. It had been a long day.
Greg slowed down as he closed the gap between Travis and us. Once he got beside Travis, he brought the vehicle to a full stop.
Travis’ expression was knotted in concern. “There’s a school bus blocking the street,” he said.
“What? That wasn’t there when we got the truck,” Greg said.
“What should we do?” Travis said.
I looked over my shoulder back at the hospital and saw the mob starting in our direction. “Well, there’s no going back that way.”
“Get in,” Greg said to Travis who jumped into the back seat.
Chapter 44
Ambush
We crested a small rise, and I could see a yellow school bus down at the end of the street parked perpendicular to the road, acting as a very effective roadblock.
“I’ve got a bad feeling about this,” I said.
“What do we do?” Kara asked.
“We drive forward because we don’t have a choice,” Greg said. “Roll down your windows and be ready for anything.” He slowed to a near crawl and moved down the street. Everyone in the SUV peered into the yards, watching the windows of the houses for anything, ready to shoot.
“Can we make it around it?” Travis asked, referring to the bus.
“We’ll have to drive through that yard on the right,” Greg said. “The angle is steep, but I think we can make it without tipping over.”
It looked like a ninety-degree angle to me. The SUV was sure to tip over, but Greg must have had more confidence in what he could do, or the truck could do.
“I don’t like this,” I said.
“Me, neither,” Greg said, “but what are our alternatives?”
“Maybe you can drive through one of the yards on this side of the street,” I said pointing to the right side of the street. Some of the houses had driveways that spanned past the house and into the backyard. There was a chance that we could drive through a fence and into the grounds around the retirement home.
“Let’s give it just a little more time,” Greg said, “and see what happens.” He slowed down even more and passed two more cars, putting us about halfway down the block.
Something did happen. It wasn’t something any of us liked.
The windshield cracked before I had even heard the sound of the shot. Greg grunted and exhaled loudly. Then, I heard the report of the rifle. He slumped onto the steering wheel, the SUV swerved to the left, ramming into a parked car. The collision jarred everyone in the truck.
The windshield cracked two more times, and something whizzed past my head. I yelled, “Everybody, get down!”
I reached over and yanked Greg onto the seat. Kara and Travis ducked down. I lay over Greg as two more shots slammed into the side of the SUV. I felt his neck and could feel his pulse, but I also felt the slickness of blood.
We were sitting ducks. I raised my head up and took a peek. The situation was going from bad to worse. Zombies were pouring out of the yards on both sides of us and heading in our direction. I got back down and out of view as another shot cracked a side window.
“We got Z’s coming in from both sides,” I said, “we can’t stay here.”
“What about Greg?” Kara asked.
“I’m okay,” Greg said through clenched teeth. Blood seeped out of a wound near his clavicle and he tried to sit up. He made it about five inches, then he passed out, falling back against the seat.
Kara reached over the seat and felt the area of the wound. A shot whizzed past the roof, and she ducked back down.
“I need to get him out of the driver’s seat, but I’m an easy target every time I pop up.”
“Can we fire back and maybe get you some breathing space?” Kara asked.
“That’d be good, but I have no idea where they’re firing from and how many there are.”
Another bullet slammed into the windshield, sending a spray of glass into the cab of the truck.
“I just looked, and the zombies are coming from behind,” Travis said.
Two shots came from just behind me, filling the SUV with their sound and fury.
“What are you doing?” I shouted.
Travis answered right away, “I’m trying to get them to stop shooting. Even if I’m shooting wild, that’ll get them thinking.”
‘Them,’ I thought. How many of them were there? If there were more than just a few, then we were in serious trouble. And who were they, anyway?
“Anything’s better than nothing,” I said.
Anthony recognized their truck right away. It was the church people who had left town.
He had them now. He had wounded the driver and had them pinned down. As long as they stayed locked in place, his soldiers would have time to get to them and finish them off. He had Layla positioned on the left side of the street controlling a good contingent of their soldiers while he took shots to keep the church people off balance.
Although she was a horrible shot, he had Layla ready to fire on the truck as soon as it appeared. He would have felt better had he had his entire legion of soldiers, but there were only four enemies, and he had nearly forty soldiers. A ten-to-one ratio should be enough.
There had been that niggling worry at the back of his mind. They were crafty and full of surprises. But they were also the only thing between him and full ownership of the city.
This scenario worked for him; he figured that he would take down their numbers a little bit at a time. That or he could keep one of them alive long enough to find out where they lived, and then he could deliver the deathblow on them. He would never have to worry about their interference again.
“Layla
,” he said over his walkie-talkie, “send in half your soldiers.” He hoped she had her composure back and could carry out this simple command, but he had his doubts. Pressure didn’t hone her; it wore her down. It was something they’d have to work on.
He watched from just off the corner of one house as her soldiers made their way toward the truck. He was so locked in that he barely had time to duck back when two shots flew past him.
“Lucky shots,” he thought.
“I think I saw some muzzle flashes off in the direction of that single story white house on the right side of the street,” Travis said.
“You need to keep down,” I said.
“I need to shoot to keep us alive,” he replied.
A wadded up t-shirt came over the back seat into the front.
“Press that onto Greg’s wound,” Kara said.
“I don’t know if we have time for battlefield medicine,” I said.
A roll of duct tape came over the seat and hit me in the face.
“Dammit.”
“Use the tape to secure the shirt over the wound,” Kara said. “I’ll keep the zombies back.” She popped up and starting firing in that precise way she always did, each shot exact. Zombies started falling.
“The zombies are getting closer,” Travis said, his voice edging toward panic.
“Okay, okay,” I said as I placed the shirt onto Greg’s wound. He moaned which was a good thing, I thought. I pulled off two strips of duct tape and wrapped them twice around his shoulder, securing the t-shirt in place. “Give me some covering fire, and I’ll move Greg. Hopefully, the truck still runs. On three.” I started the count, “One-Two-Three.”
On three, Kara and Travis popped up and starting firing. Travis focused on the zombies, and Kara fired spaced shots in the direction of the white house. The tactic worked in the short term, and I was able to pull Greg from behind the steering wheel. He moaned as I dragged him across the seat and gently arranged him in the corner of the passenger seat. I quickly climbed behind the steering wheel and turned the key in the ignition. The motor choked and sputtered and then died. I slammed my fist against the steering wheel and shouted, “Come on!”
“There’s something funny about these zombies,” Travis said, “something different.”
“Can this wait?” I asked as I turned the key. Again, the engine tried to come to life, but it sputtered out again.
“They have wires coming out of their head,” Travis said.
“We don’t have time for C.S.I Zombie,” I said.
“Don’t flood it,” Kara said.
I started to say something but didn’t, knowing she was right. Damn, it was hard for men to admit that at times. I took a quick, calming breath and prepared to start the engine again when a bullet smacked into the hood of the SUV.
“That came from a different direction,” Kara said. Another bullet winged off the top of the truck. “Near that brown house. It’s a woman with a rifle. Travis, do you have a shot?”
“I’ll have to stop shooting the zombies,” he said.
“Do it,” Kara yelled.
I heard Travis fire several shots. “Whoever it is just moved back around the corner of the house,” Travis said. “I don’t have a shot anymore.”
“I’m just about out of ammo,” Kara said.
“Take what Greg has left,” I said.
“His ammo won’t fit my rifle,” she said.
“Then take his,” I said as I cranked the engine again being careful not to flood it. We had picked these older carburetor-run vehicles over the modern fuel injected vehicles because we could fix them. All the modern vehicles needed computers, and computers were a thing of the past now. I only hoped this ancient technology didn’t fail us in our moment of desperate need. The engine coughed, backfired, and then roared to life.
I rammed it into reverse and jammed down the gas pedal. The truck jumped back, but so did the car we had smashed into. Our bumper was locked onto the side of the car.
“Not again,” I yelled, remembering when one of our trucks had become hopelessly locked onto another car on a bridge just east of town. We had lost a good man in that mishap.
The side window of the SUV exploded, sending a shower of glass into the back storage area.
Kara fired off two shots at a small red brick house next to the white one she had been firing at earlier.
“The first shooter moved,” she said.
“The zombies are just about on us,” Travis shouted.
Ordinarily, the windows would keep them at bay, but we had lost two of our windows already. Compounding the issue was the fact that we needed them down to fire on our attackers. Then factor in that our truck was hopelessly interlocked with another car, precluding an escape. This had quickly become the perfect death trap. The zombies were less than fifteen feet away. We needed some miracle just about then.
And that’s what we got. Sort of.
Chapter 45
Counter Attack
“It’s him,” Paige shouted as she brought up her pistol and pulled the trigger until the gun was empty. Her bullets streamed toward a man partially concealed behind a red brick house, and the bullets chipped off bits of brick just above the man’s head. He ducked down behind some bushes and out of view.
Russell and Paige had seen the school bus just seconds before on their run to the scene of the battle. It was his calling card.
Russell ran up beside her, “How do you know that? You’ve never seen him.”
“I just know it,” she said.
He knew it, too.
A barrage of shooting sounded off to our left. It sounded more distant than the previous shots. I waited for the impact of bullets, but strangely enough, no bullets hit our truck or us.
I moved the transmission into drive and jammed the gas pedal to the floor. With some effort, the SUV pushed the car we were tangled up with forward. I quickly shifted into reverse and tried to break us free, hoping the sudden backward motion would rend us free. Metal screamed in protest, but the car held fast, still locked onto us like a bad headache.
“Someone’s firing on the people shooting at us!” Kara yelled.
I looked up and saw a petite woman run out from the cover of two houses in front of us and directly into our line of fire. She ran in sheer panic, without regard to what could happen. I grabbed my rifle, rolled down my window, and squeezed off a quick round of shots. One of the bullets hit home and she went down in the street like a rock. She didn’t get up or move at all after that.
“The zombies stopped moving,” Travis yelled. “They’re just standing there.”
“They’re still coming from behind us,” Kara yelled. “I’m finally out. Give me Greg’s rifle.”
I grabbed Greg’s rifle and hoisted it over the back seat. Kara grabbed it and started firing on the zombies almost immediately. A few went down before Greg’s gun went dry.
Hope shines eternal until the lights go out, I guess.
“The woman’s down,” Russell shouted to Paige who was just across the street and ducked down behind a car, ready to advance on the school bus.
“We can’t let him get away,” she shouted back.
“Don’t take any chances,” Russell yelled.
She didn’t listen and, at a crouch, crossed the street, moved away from Russell. She moved in a single-minded fashion, totally focused on getting to the man.
“Dammit,” Russell said and moved out his position in the driveway and started down the street, trying to parallel Paige, but she had a good head start. She moved with little regard to caution while he stopped behind each car, and surveyed the area, before moving on to the next one. By the time he had made it past four cars, he discovered that she had put a lot of distance between the two of them and was nearing the end of the block closing quickly on the bus.
What the fuck is happening, Anthony thought. Who was firing at them from the back down the street? Who had driven Layla out into the open to be shot down like a dog? He felt his bloo
d rising as he duck-walked toward the back of the house. He knew he needed to remain calm. Rage would only lead to mistakes. Still, he felt his pulse pounding in his temple.
He pressed a series of buttons on his control console and redirected a set of his soldiers to take up a rear guard and then pressed another set to take control of Layla’s now immobile group. These undead soldiers went into motion.
I have to end this quickly, he thought. Decisively.
“The zombies are starting towards us again,” Travis shouted.
“Well, shoot them,” I shouted, “because I’m getting out to see if I can get us free from the other car.”
“Stay inside,” Kara shouted.
“It’s this, or we make a run for it,” I said, “and I don’t like our chances on foot. It would also mean leaving Greg behind, and I’m not doing that.”
Kara held me in a stare for several moments and then nodded. She took out her pistol and started firing on the zombies coming up from our rear. I grabbed Greg’s ax and climbed out of the truck. I had the mechanical skills of a sloth, but I figured an ax gave me a leg up on whatever I discovered.
I quickly found that a section of the car’s front fender wrapped like hot duct tape around the truck’s bumper. I pulled at it for about twenty seconds but did nothing but get bloody knuckles. It was time for Joel’s best method at solving any problem: brute force.
I brought back the ax and swung it down. The blade cut into the metal of the car’s fender, taking out a chunk. It wasn’t enough, so I went at it again. This time I made a significant gash in the car. I checked it, but a small strip of metal held steadfastly to the truck. I gave it another good whack, and the bumper was free.
“Joel!” Kara screamed.
I turned just in time to see a gap-mouthed, large male zombie bearing down on me. With no time to react, I brought the ax up and caught it under the chin, knocking its head back and splitting its lower jaw like a loaf of bread. I could see why Greg liked this ax.
