Machines of the Dead (Book 2)

by David Bernstein

  Saunders continued to wail. He was pushing against her, trying to get her off, but she was strong—unstoppable. The damage was done, but she kept plunging the blade in, blood gushing over her hand. Then he hit her. The side of her head exploded in pain as she was thrown sideways. She hit the side of a seat cushion, the thin foam doing little to soften the blow. The knife fell from her grip as she landed on the floor. Slightly dazed, she glanced up and saw her attacker, his crotch a bleeding mess. But better yet, he was no longer holding the gun. It was on the floor at his feet. She dove, snatched the weapon, rolled backwards, and came up into a crouching position with the gun held out.

  Saunders was on his knees, holding his groin. Tears streamed down his face. He started laughing as he stared at her. “Fucking bitch,” he said, spittle flying from his mouth. He put a foot forward, grunting as he stood. Maria’s mouth dropped open. The guy was fierce. She didn’t think he’d be able to stand, but he did. “I’m going to kill you.”

  Maria squeezed the trigger on the Beretta. A small hole appeared in the man’s chest. He staggered back, then looked down at the wound. A trickle of blood leaked out. He looked at her as rage enveloped his face. He reached out, then fell forward, crashing to the floor. She wanted to shoot him again, but couldn’t risk putting a hole in the boat’s floor. She quickly felt for a pulse and didn’t find one. The immediate danger was out of the way, but now she had another problem.

  She headed out of the cabin and to the steering wheel. Her gun was resting on the chair. The cocky bastard had left it there. She stuffed it into her pants and started the boat, then raced in the opposite direction, hoping to reach Jack and Zaun in time.

  Chapter 3

  Zaun had fallen asleep. Jack was growing weary, trying not to nod off. The rhythmic rocking of the boat combined with the cold and silence was hard to fight. He took out the wedding picture of him and Jess. His heart swelled. Tears rimmed his eyelids and he blinked them away.

  “I miss you so much,” he whispered, then kissed the photo. No matter how hard he tried to survive, to live, he knew he’d never get a chance to hold her again. The thought was so outrageous, yet so true. He knew this, but couldn’t fully accept it yet. Maybe he would see her again . . . in Heaven. He had never been a religious fellow, but Jess was his soul mate. Whether it was his brain telling him what he needed, or some kind of spiritual sensation, he truly felt that one day he’d get to be with her.

  A low buzzing startled him but he remained still, holding his breath, and allowing his ears to focus completely. It was an engine, a boat’s engine. He tucked the picture back into his jacket pocket and nudged Zaun.

  “What’s going on?” Zaun asked, sleepily.

  “Grab your gun. We have company.”

  Jack grabbed his M4, the weapon was like an extension of him now, and something he didn’t picture being without. He opened the cabin doors and crept up the stairs, peering just over the top step.

  “Sounds like a boat,” Zaun said.

  “It is. Wait here. Might be better if they think I’m alone. We’ll have the element of surprise.”

  The approaching craft was identical to the one he and Zaun were on. Then he saw the familiar face. He turned back to Zaun. “It’s Maria.” He couldn’t help but smile, overjoyed at seeing her, but at the same time he knew it couldn’t be good news. Something bad must’ve happened.

  “Maria? What?” Zaun asked.

  Jack stood on the deck, keeping the machine gun ready in the event Maria was under duress. Zaun was at his side in moments.

  Maria pulled the boat alongside Jack’s. It rested lower in the water, which he found odd. “You have no idea how glad I am to see you two.”

  “What’s wrong?” Jack asked, a creeping feeling in his gut.

  “You both need to get off the boat now.” Maria’s face was all business. “The engine’s rigged with explosives.”

  “What are you talking about?” Zaun asked.

  “Explosives?” Jack asked.

  “Just get over here,” Maria said, her voice urgent, “I’ll explain everything.”

  Jack and Zaun gathered their things and boarded Maria’s craft. She hit the throttle and sped off, stopping a little over a hundred yards away, then killed the engine.

  “Reynolds had all the boats rigged with explosives. There’s a kill-switch on the engine.”

  Jack’s eyes went wide. “That crazy son-of-a-bitch!”

  “I thought you guys were dead. The explosives are set to go off when the boat reaches a certain distance.”

  “We were cruising along,” Jack began, “and then the engine just died.”

  “I think you got lucky,” Maria said. “Very lucky.”

  Both Jack and Zaun thanked her. Jack was a little shaken. Something electrical or mechanical must’ve gone wrong, preventing the bomb from detonating, from killing them. Or maybe the engine cutting out had stopped it. They were a good distance from the boathouse. Truth was he had no idea why the thing hadn’t exploded, but he was grateful.

  “So, how far is Cornwall from here?” Maria asked.

  “I can’t ask you to take us there,” Jack said. “You’ve got a long trip south. It’s enough you came back for us.”

  Maria grinned. “You’d rather swim or hike there? Maybe find a vehicle . . . that’s of course after fighting off either the undead or other people you might run into. Then you’ll have to make your way along the streets and you have no idea if they’re clogged or not. ”

  As much as Jack hated to admit it, she was right. By boat, Cornwall was maybe forty-five minutes, or an hour at most. She could let them off there and then be on her way.

  “You’ll use a lot of gas getting us there,” Jack said. “If we don’t find a refueling dock, you’ll have to wait until we find gas cans and fill them. And we don’t even know if there will be electricity. The pumps won’t run without it.”

  “I don’t have enough to get to North Carolina anyway. I’ll need to stop a few times. An hour added onto my trip isn’t all that terrible, and I’ll rest easier knowing you’re where you need to be.”

  Jack shook his head. “I don’t know how to thank you.”

  “I’ll put our stuff below,” Zaun said.

  Maria stopped him. “Before you do that, we’ll need to remove the body.”

  “Body?” the two men said in unison.

  Maria told them about Saunders and how he tried to have his way with her.

  “Unbelievable,” Zaun said.

  “Wow,” Jack said, running a hand over his chin. “I’m so glad you’re okay. I never would’ve thought to check the cabin.”

  “Now do you see why we should stick together?” Zaun asked.

  “Yeah, yeah,” Jack said and shoved Zaun toward the cabin. “Let’s get that body overboard.”

  “I’ll help,” Maria said.

  “No,” Jack told her. “We got this.” He knew Maria was more than capable of doing the chore, but didn’t think she should have to look at, let alone, touch the scumbag’s corpse.

  Zaun went down to the cabin first and stopped at the doorway. “Um,” he said. “I think we have a problem.”

  “What is it?” Jack asked.

  “Boats filling up with water.”

  “What?” Maria shouted.

  “And there’s a lot of it.”

  Jack remembered how Maria’s boat sat lower in the water than the one he and Zaun had been on.

  “Damn it,” Maria said, stomping the deck. “The asshole’s gun went off during our struggle. Bullet must have punctured a hole in the floor.”

  Jack squeezed passed Zaun on the stairs. The cabin was a bathtub, the dead body visible at the bottom. He turned around and went topside. “We need to get to shore. Boat’s finished.”

  Cursing under her breath, Maria steered the boat to the nearest shore, about a quarter mile south of the Tappan Zee Bridge’s southern side. The beach was heavily weeded, but the frigid temperature made the ground rock-hard. A steep, snow-co
vered incline led up to the Thruway. Jack knew the area somewhat from his many trips to his sister’s house before the “incident.” The Thruway was a highway that extended from Yonkers to Albany, then on to the Buffalo area and veering across the state to Pennsylvania.

  “What now?” Zaun asked, climbing out of the boat.

  The immediate answer was to get to the Thruway, then follow it to Cornwall, but it would never be that simple. They were in a heavily trafficked area. During rush hour, the bridge and about ten miles of road after it was always congested. People having fled from the city and the Westchester area after the epidemic would have made the road a parking lot. Jack feared there would be a lot of undead roaming around, but without a boat, what choice did they have but to cross the bridge?

  “We go up,” Jack said. “The highway is just over this hill. I’ll check it out.”

  Zaun and Maria waited by the boat while Jack climbed, the snow making the task slick in places. When he reached the top, a four-foot tall cement divider wall extended to the left for about 200 feet, and to the right where it met the New York State Bridge and Tunnel building. He crept up to the wall and peered over it. Just as he thought, a line of cars extended in both directions—down the road toward the city and over the bridge. A few undead meandered about. All those abandoned vehicles, he thought. Where the hell did all the people go?

  Sudden movement from Jack’s right caught his attention. A lone zombie had spotted him and was heading his way. “Shit,” he muttered and scrambled back down the incline.

  “Roadway’s clogged with abandoned vehicles,” he said. “Both the north and south bound lanes have north bound traffic. Guess there wasn’t much desire to head south. Oh, and there’s undead. One spotted me. I think it’s best if—” a scraping sound from above caught Jack’s attention.

  A zombie fell over the wall, then tumbled down the hill. Jack and the others hurried out of its way. The thing crashed into the boat, then began to rise. Without hesitation, Zaun stepped up and sank his sword into its skull.

  More undead were falling over the barricade. The damn thing wasn’t high enough to stop the undead.

  “We have to move,” Maria said.

  They ran north along the shoreline. Jack glanced over his shoulder and saw a number of zombies tumbling down the hill, while others were already at the bottom and heading after them. He and the others rounded a bend and lost sight of the undead.

  They reached the ten-foot-high, razor-wire-topped fence that ran up the hill, preventing anyone access to the bridge’s underbelly.

  “We’re going to have to climb the hill,” Jack said.

  “Up there?” Zaun pointed. “Are you nuts?”

  “We stay here,” Maria said, “and we’ll be overrun with undead. Maybe the bridge isn’t too badly infested with the things.”

  The incline was steep. Jack didn’t think the zombies would be able to climb it. “We can go up halfway and wait. See how many undead are coming our way. Maybe only a small number were attracted to us. We can take them out, then head back down the shore, or try to find something to cut our way through the fence. I’m afraid that with all the abandoned vehicles up there, the number of undead will be huge.”

  They went up about forty feet before finding a place to stop. Within minutes, a mass of at least fifty bot-controlled corpses came ambling along the shoreline. They collided with the fence and crammed into each other like the mindless things they were.

  There were too many to kill by sword, and shooting them would severely lessen their ammo supply and attract more undead.

  Maria tapped Jack on the shoulder and whispered, “Looks like they don’t know we’re up here.”

  “All right,” Zaun said, “let’s keep going then.” He took a step and slipped, landing on his face.

  Maria covered her mouth, holding back a laugh.

  Jack smiled, and couldn’t believe how damn funny that was, even in the terrible situation they were in.

  Zaun pushed himself up. “Very—” and then his foot flew out from under him.

  Jack saw his friend fall backwards. He reached out a hand to grab him, but he was too late. Zaun tumbled backwards down the hill.

  Chapter 4

  Jack and Maria rushed down the hill, watching as Zaun crashed into the horde of undead, knocking a small number of them down and into the water.

  Zaun was up in minutes, but the undead were on him. Grimy, rotting hands latched onto him like the jaws of a Pit Bull. He twisted and turned, trying to give himself room, then kicked and punched. A zombie got through his assault and chomped down on his shoulder, tearing away a piece of his coat. Another was grabbing at his right leg. He pulled his sword out and sliced the thing’s arms off as it attempted to bite him. The undead things were relentless. They showed no fear, no excitement. Not a single emotion was written on their faces to match their eager desire for human flesh.

  Jack landed a blow with his feet into the side of a heavy-set zombie, knocking it into three others and sending them all to the ground. He pulled his Sig Sauer and began plugging the nearest undead. Maria was next to him doing the same with her Glock. Zaun continued to hack and slash. A small undead child snuck through the mass and latched onto his leg. Another zombie was about to grab him from behind, but Maria put a slug into its head.

  “We need to get the hell out of here,” Jack hollered, stating the obvious as he glanced down the shoreline. A line of undead were coming and would soon add to the throng.

  Zaun cried out. Jack saw the undead kid, its teeth buried into Zaun’s leg like a ravenous tick. Jack continued to shoot the nearest undead, dropping them like flies, but there were so many. Too many. He saw Maria reloading. Zaun pried off the undead kid, shoving it back into the crowd. He swung wide, slicing off three zombie heads at the same time. Jack’s gun clicked empty. Instead of reloading, he pulled his .45 and began plugging away.

  “Let’s go,” Maria said, yanking on Zaun’s collar. It looked like Zaun almost refused as he kept slicing and dicing arms and heads, but finally he turned around and followed Maria up the hill. Jack backpedaled, slipping as he tried to climb. He spun around and started up when one of the undead grabbed his foot. He kicked back hard, connecting with the thing, then got purchase and hauled his ass upward.

  They made their way about twenty feet up before stopping, everyone breathing heavily. The dead below attempted to pursue, but only slid or tumbled back down.

  “Shit,” Maria said, “that was too close.”

  “Zaun,” Jack said, “are you okay?”

  “I don’t know. I mean my leg hurts.” He fiddled with the pant leg and saw that it was ripped, the flesh below bleeding. “Damn, the little bitch bit me.”

  “We better take care of that now,” Maria said. She removed her pack and took out her taser. Zaun found an area where he could lay. Jack positioned himself on the hill right below Zaun, ready to catch him should he slide.

  Zaun pulled up his shirt. “Okay, do it.”

  Maria aimed and fired two darts into his abdominal area. Zaun’s body trembled as the current traveled through it. Finished, Maria loaded another charge into the weapon. Zaun pulled out the darts and tossed them aside.

  “Hit me again. Just to be sure.”

  “Oh, I was going to. Don’t you worry,” she said, then reloaded the gun and shot him again.

  Finished, she reloaded the taser and returned it to her pack.

  One 50,000-volt jolt had been enough, until they found a soldier who had obviously been tasered but still turned. Reynolds had said the bots were adapting and would grow stronger. Maybe one 50,000 volt shot wasn’t enough anymore, so it was wise to give a person a double dose of electricity.

  The group rested for a few minutes, drank some water and ate a little of the food they had. Below, the undead mass swelled, more having joined the ones already there. With all the gunfire, Jack had worried more undead would come spilling over the hill above them, but that didn’t prove to be the case.

 
Ready to roll, they headed up the hill to where the land flattened out into a small ledge and a ten-foot chain-link fence topped with barbed wire stood, separating the roadway and bridge access from them. Jack didn’t see any undead and was grateful.

  They made their way along the fence to where it ended at the side of the Thruway Authority building. A number of windows stood about six feet from the ground. All were covered by a mesh grate except for one, which was on the ground along with broken glass.

  “We go in, then make our way out the front,” Jack whispered. “Easier than trying to go around the side of the building and having to cut through the fence.”

  Maria nodded.

  She removed her pack. Jack and Zaun helped her up so she could take a look inside. “It’s a bathroom. The stench is awful, but it’s clear. I’m going in.”

  Zaun and Jack followed, Jack tossing in the bags before Zaun pulled him up.

  Maria was right; the place smelled horrible with a mixture of feces, piss and blood, a lot of blood.

  “I think I’m going to be sick,” Zaun said.

  “Breathe through your mouth,” Maria told him.

  Jack went over to the restroom’s door. He cracked it open, listened, then opened the door to a narrow hallway; the walls were painted a light green. Smears of red extended in both directions. He waved to the others to follow.

  He went left, hoping he was heading toward the front of the building and possibly a way out. He passed a closed door on his right, then came to an open one. Peering inside, he saw a paper-strewn desk with a computer monitor, posters of the bridge on the walls and a zombie in the far corner. It appeared to have been a middle-aged man. The thing was wearing a Thruway Authority uniform, its right hand a grisly stump of exposed bone and flesh. It faced away from Jack, standing still. He had seen this behavior before—a zombie settled in one place when there was no action or place to roam. It had probably been trapped inside the building for so long without prey, and simply stopped moving, possibly saving its energy.