LZR-1143: Evolution

by Bryan James

  Fred had confirmed as much on the roof of the facility in New York so many lifetimes ago. Kopland didn’t work alone, and couldn’t have pulled it off without someone complicit in power.

  She nods once more, as if reading my mind, eyes staring, lips pressed firmly together.

  Suddenly, the door behind her shakes in its housing. Her head snaps around, eyes blazing.

  It thunders again in the quiet room. Dust falls from the ceiling and I begin to get sleepy.

  She turns again, and her face is distorted, terrible. Her teeth are broken, and her eyes weep with blood.

  “Go now,” she says.

  I stare.

  Suddenly, she is on top of me, her head darting for my neck.

  “Leave!”

  I cringe, and close my eyes.

  “Mike, wake up,” Ky whispered urgently. I shot up into a seated position, looking around groggily.

  “There are some of those things inside the house,” she said, her soft whisper worried, but calm.

  I looked around, searching for Kate.

  “She went into the hall to look,” said Ky. “She said to wake you up and send you out.”

  I nodded, shaking the cobwebs off and slowly pulling the slide back on my pistol. The Glock from the police officer lay on the dresser, and the M-16 leaned against the window ledge. For now, the sound of gunshots was not our friend, and I hoped to not have to use the weapons. I glanced at Ky and her crossbow, recognizing the simple, and strategic, beauty of the silent anachronism.

  Kate was crouched behind the dresser that blocked the stairwell, staring through a crack between the furniture and the wall. She turned once as I approached and then back to the lookout, motioning me to come close and look. I squatted next to her, placing one arm reassuringly on her back as I leaned close, sharing the view. Her hand wrapped around my back familiarly.

  There were only two, and they were knocking around the bottom floor aimlessly, making no move toward the stairwell. I stared for a moment more, then sat back, jerking my head toward our room. She followed, and we silently closed the door. I slowly turned the lock latch to avoid the telltale click.

  We gathered in the small closet, eager to mask the quiet sound of our speech, even as we whispered.

  “There’s only two of them,” I said, intending to comfort Ky.

  “But how did they get in?” asked Kate, stymying my efforts.

  Ky shifted her weight uncomfortably, and I spoke up.

  “They must have pushed through one of the doors. They weren’t secure, and the hinges were popped. Right now, they’re just wandering aimlessly. As long as they don’t start up the stairs, or try to get through that dresser, we’re still fine. At least until we run out of food.”

  Oops.

  This thinking positive stuff was hard.

  We went back to the room, walking carefully on the wooden floor. I took over window watch, and Kate laid down. The house was dark, and the only light came from the blinking red stop light, and a flickering neon white light hanging from a post near the gas station. Absently, I wondered how and why this small area had power in the midst of a seemingly state-wide outage.

  Hours passed, and shapes still wandered aimlessly in the night. Once during the night a zombie moved up the stairs and reached the dresser. I moved to the doorway but didn’t touch the knob. Ky and Kate slept, and I listened and waited.

  It slammed its hands against the wood paneling at the rear of the dresser once, then went silent. A soft moan drifted under the crack at the bottom of the door, and I cringed involuntarily. Then, I heard the soft sounds of feet moving back downstairs, and I relaxed.

  Around midnight, my eyes were taking in the general movements below rather than specific shapes, my ears cautious only for sounds of intrusion.

  I blinked once as I stared into the distance, having seen what looked like headlights.

  I sat up straighter, and peered into the darkness. The lights had disappeared.

  Then, seconds later, they reappeared, closer and brighter than before, wobbling in the far distance as they passed along the dark road leading directly toward us.

  I swore silently under my breath and leaned closer to the window, trying to make out the shape of the oncoming vehicle, and whether it was alone. Reaching back for Kate, I squeezed her foot briefly to wake her and let her know of the oncoming vehicle.

  She stirred, and softly sat up, careful to be quiet in the night.

  Suddenly, a crash sounded loudly and clearly from the living room below. A table or chair had toppled from where it was placed to ward out intruders.

  I shifted my gaze to the forms below, careful to keep my head from view. Several creatures had turned, moving lazily to the sound beneath us, unable to differentiate the noise of the undead from the signals of the living.

  The headlights were much closer, and I could hear the roar of an engine in the distance. The lights were incredibly bright, and there were more than headlights. Spotlights were mounted on the front of the cab, forcing bright beams of stunningly white light before it into the night.

  Below, more zombies had turned toward the house, and were starting to stream slowly in the direction of the rest of the herd. More had heard the approaching engine, and were splitting from the main herd toward the new sound.

  Directly outside our door, the placid steps of curious footfalls were replaced by quicker steps up the stairs. Many, many more of them. A quicker cadence was now sounding on the dresser. Aimless lethargy had just morphed into hungry curiosity.

  More fists, more strikes, more urgency.

  I cursed, audibly this time, and moved to Ky’s side, placing my hand over her mouth and then whispering quickly in her ear to get up. She started, eyes widening, then understood. I removed my hand and walked to our door. Outside, the dresser was moving, legs creeping back against the hardwood floor. More feet moved below, and on the stairwell.

  I reminded myself that they were still just curious, and had no idea we were here—at least until they started to pound on the door, and we had to either shoot them, or climb outside on the roof.

  The engine roared below, and I had my first look at the offending vehicle.

  I was stunned.

  A large, bright yellow school bus sat at the intersection, engine revving obliviously to the herd of undead that had quickly gathered around it.

  But this was not a normal school bus.

  High energy halogen spotlights had been welded to a wire mesh cage that surrounded and protected the windshield, more spotlights attached to a metal bar that circled the top of the entire vehicle. Thick gauge wire mesh covered the windows along the side of and in the rear of the vehicle, also welded to a thicker bar surrounding the body of the bus.

  In the front, a massive metal plate with a small mesh opening for air intake in the center almost obscured the front of the engine housing. The bottom was serrated, like a giant bread knife, and on the sides, three-foot long heavy steel blades extended to the sides at six-inch intervals. Along the long sides of the bus, welded to a separate metal bar at a midpoint positioned between the bottom of the cabin and the bottom of the windows, at approximate head height, were welded smaller, but equally dangerous-looking blades, roughly two feet in length and interspersed every two to three feet.

  The wheel-wells were heavily reinforced around huge, thick, off-road tires, mounted on a slightly raised frame. In two windows on the left side of the vehicle, the barrels of what appeared to be shotguns were protruding from small holes, seeming to have been drilled out of the window frames, then surrounded by metal sheeting. On the roof, a larger hatch had been fashioned from the standard emergency hatch, and reinforced with a stronger steel door.

  Below the stenciled writing on the side of the cab, the school name had been crossed through roughly with red spray paint, replaced with the crudely scrawled slogan, “School of Hard Knocks.”

  I chuckled, despite the danger this truck might pose to us. It looked like this vehicle was design
ed to drive through the undead, and I marveled at the skills required to put it together.

  “What the fuck is that thing?” said Kate, moving next to me and staring outside at the idling bus. Throngs of undead were surrounding it now, thick on the sides and in front.

  The driver appeared not to care, and remained stopped, engine idling, lights blazing, as if calmly contemplating which direction to go.

  “That thing is a kick-ass ride outta Dodge,” I said, mind churning quickly with an idea.

  “Uh, no,” said Kate. “Whatever plan you have about getting on board that thing is half-assed and stupid. We don’t know who’s in there, how many there are, and what the hell they’re doing here. There could be twenty of those hillbilly fucks in there, and I don’t know about you, but I got the severe willies when that girl was talking about her ‘friends.’”

  She spit out the last word as if a curse, and I understood the hesitation. Clearly, the poor girl had been exchanging ... things ... for food, and anyone that took advantage of that situation was lower than low. Deserving of a one way ticket to zombie-town, frankly.

  But something about this bus seemed different. I remembered the flash of what I thought was a school bus passing by when we were at the house, and it hadn’t stopped. Merely minutes later, the rest of the mob had arrived. If they were together, why not stop? I asked Kate the same question, and she looked worried, and frowned, thinking.

  Outside, the bus engine revved and started forward, slowly.

  In the hallway, the dresser was buckling, and we heard the sound of cracking wood. Ky squealed softly in fear and raised her crossbow defensively.

  I turned to Kate.

  “Listen, we can’t stay here. You know that. We need to take a chance. If all else fails, we always have the whole superman thing going on, right? Plus, we’re fairly well armed and might be able to bargain a ride. We have to try something. We’re out of options.”

  She turned to Ky, who was seated on the bed, bravely maintaining her composure despite her fear. The engine revved again as the bus started to turn away from the house, as if to drive past the gas station and off to the North.

  Kate looked at me and nodded briefly, and I jumped to my feet, slamming the window up and popping out the screen. I grabbed the police officer's shotgun and checked the chamber, unholstering my flashlight as I stepped carefully onto the shingled roof.

  Below, the sound of the window coming up caused several heads below to snap up and see me moving on the roof. Several high moans greeted me, and more heads turned, mouths moving as they turned to flock at the edge of the porch.

  I wasted no time, turning on my flashlight and kneeling quickly and pumping the shotgun, firing a quick shot into the air. The punch of the gun slammed into my shoulder, and the loud cracking boom of the shot rang my ears. Inside the room, I heard Ky shriek.

  “Dresser’s down,” said Kate briefly, then disappeared into the room.

  I cursed, and fired again.

  The bus had stopped on the first shot.

  Bright red reverse lights illuminated a thick throng of creatures clustered at the rear of the vehicle, which bore an identical serrated metal plate designed for plowing through bodies.

  Absurdly, the beeping of the vehicle in reverse followed the red lights, and was an amusing soundtrack by which to plow through the flock clustered behind it. The full effect of the serrated plate was horrific. Creatures were caught in the teeth and dragged underneath, shredded to strips under the thick steel. A wet smear of dark blood on the cement as the bus backed further up the road was the only evidence of the creatures’ peril.

  The driver continued the reverse until it was parallel with the front of the home.

  Amazingly, the driver’s window opened. Enclosed as it was within a wire mesh frame, it still seemed risky.

  A head emerged from the window, shouting to be heard over the din of moans and the sound of the powerful engine idling as he cupped his hands over his mouth and shouted.

  “Howdy!” he yelled.

  “I thought y’all would be in this area. Saw your abandoned truck, and the tracks back on Route 89. Need a lift?”

  I smiled and yelled back. “If you don’t mind!”

  Behind me, Kate was helping Ky out onto the roof. The loud pop of her pistol echoed out into the night. Ky’s voice was bothered, but calm. This was one tough kid.

  “They’re pushing at the door. We’re coming out.”

  I glanced back and Kate was shutting the window behind her, and helping Ky higher on the roof.

  “Y’all stay put. I’ll be right there!” Then his head disappeared into the bus.

  I paused, stopping mid-shout.

  How the hell was he going to be right here?

  He pulled forward, crushing several creatures into mush. Then the absurd beeping began anew and the red reverse lights illuminated again.

  He revved his engine once, then tires squealed as he slammed his foot on the gas and the bus shot in reverse, aiming for the front door of the house with the rear of the bus.

  “Shit!” I shouted, looking back to Kate and Ky with time to simply yell, “Hold on!”

  The frame of the house shook as the bus collided with the porch. Below me, the roof buckled as the vehicle splintered a support post. The window behind me shattered, and the bus came to a halt directly below us, within a four foot jump from the shingled roof. From behind the shattered glass of the bedroom window, several rotten faces appeared, arms akimbo and grabbing at the frame.

  Gesturing to Kate and Ky, I hurried them to jump on the roof of the bus. With the shotgun, I turned to the window, resting the butt of the gun on my hip as I pulled the trigger from six feet away. Two heads thrusting forward into the night air exploded in the frame of the window, and bone fragments and hair rained over the creatures clustered behind them as more filled the gap. I exhausted the shells from the shotgun, turning the open window into a mass of clotted blood and gore, before backing up toward the drop.

  Kate was jumping down as I reached the ledge; already on board, Ky was yelling and pointing at the creatures clustering around the bus. There were hundreds, and the bus was shaking slowly from side to side. She gripped the side rail along the edges of the bus roof, nervously waiting for me to jump on.

  In front of me, the zombies inside the house were squeezing through the window, hands slopping through the remains of their predecessors, mouths opening and closing, moans joining the chorus of their brethren from the ground level as I turned to the ledge and jumped, landing on all fours on the roof. Kate instantly slammed her hands against the reinforced metal hatch, yelling at the driver to go.

  The creatures in the window stumbled to the roof, and the first one fell and rolled, gathering steam as it clattered down the angled roof and flew onto the bus. Two more followed, both keeping their feet as they stumbled to the edge and fell forward onto the roof, splaying out on all fours awkwardly.

  More followed onto the roof, but as the first zombie raised its head and looked at me, the engine revved and the bus moved forward, away from the house, which was now crawling with the undead.

  Chapter 28

  I backed up on all fours, realizing as I did so that the empty shotgun was still in my hand.

  The hatch was opening, as Kate discovered the locking mechanism and began to turn the wheel that released the lock. Behind me, Ky shouted as the first creature moved forward.

  I moved to my knees, feeling my blood surge as the zombie struggled to stand on the uncertain, moving roof of the vehicle. I brought the shotgun around, swinging it by the barrel. It slammed into the zombie’s knees and I heard the crack of bone snapping as its knees buckled under the blow. The stock of the gun vibrated as the corpse tumbled to the side, and into the waiting arms of hundreds of creatures below.

  The remaining two didn’t bother to stand; they simply began to crawl forward toward me as I raised the gun again, noting the shattered stock of the weapon with some measure of surprise. The first
creature was a teen dressed in a slimy white dress shirt over black slacks, a single eye dangling from a shattered face. The other eye was trained on me as I sought to maintain my balance as the bus accelerated.

  I waited for it to come within range, and lashed a quick kick out at the opening mouth, boot making contact with the cheek bone and forcing the creature to the edge of the roof. It rolled into the metal bar at the cusp of the metal roof and flopped over, arm grasping for purchase as it fell.

  I turned my head to meet the last creature only to hear Ky’s voice complain loudly. The roof was empty, the last creature having disappeared.

  “Shit,” she said simply. She stared briefly, then shrugged and moved toward the hatch, crossbow in her hand. She looked up at my questioning look.

  “Lost one of my arrows,” she said, disappearing into the bus. From below, I thought I heard the sound of a dog barking as I watched the horde disappear into the dead night. The moans faded into the distance as I grabbed the edge of the roof and followed Kate and Ky into the vehicle.

  As my feet hit the metal floor, I was greeted happily by a very eager dog, whose cropped tail whipped back and forth faster than I could track, and whose entire body shook with happiness at having met a new friend.

  “Don’t mind him none,” said the voice from the front of the bus, which was separated from the main cabin by what appeared to be a plexiglass wall, complete with a hinged door—now open—and heavy duty lock. “As you can see, he hates people. All Vizslas do—its bred into ‘em.”

  The voice dripped with sarcasm in the same volume as my hand now dripped with drool from the over-stimulated animal’s grasping of my hand in its gentle jaws. The body continued to shake in happiness at meeting new people, and I reached down and ruffled the ears affectionately. I had always loved dogs, but Maria had been allergic. I used to love to visit my cousin, who lived in Arizona with several dogs, and spend hours outside throwing the ball to them.

  Ky was on the ground now, and the animal reared up on its hind legs and wrapped its front paws around her shoulders in the canine equivalent of a hug. She squealed in delight, and avidly tried to avoid the lashing, sloppy tongue that was whipping around her cheeks. Kate smiled softly as we both looked around the interior.