The Creeping Dead: Book 2

by Edward P. Cardillo

  Larry turned around. “Erin, are you okay?”

  She sat up, white raccoon eyes wild, her teeth bared. She let out a shriek that nearly caused Becky to crash the old clunker.

  “Jesus Christ!” shouted Larry.

  Erin leaned forward and grabbed him by the throat, snarling and grunting as she tried to pull him close.

  “Help!” Larry pushed against the seat with both hands, trying to keep away from her snapping jaws.

  “Shit!” Becky had no weapon. “Hold on!” She gunned the engine, pushing the gas pedal to the floor. She had a straight run down the major thoroughfare. The car picked up speed. It was big and heavy, but it was a large engine.

  “What are you doing?”

  “Buckle up,” said Becky.

  Larry grabbed the seat belt and leaned forward, struggling with the buckle. Erin was now crawling over the front seat.

  “Hurry up!”

  “I’m trying!” shouted Larry, feeling Erin’s clammy fingers on his back. There was a shriek, and his back was covered in blood and vomit.

  Becky punched Erin in the side of her head, and it hit the window. Erin, however, was unfazed. “Fuck it.”

  Just as Larry snapped his belt buckle, Becky slammed on the brakes with both feet, and Erin went flying forward into the windshield.

  As the car skidded to a halt, Erin’s head slammed the windshield. Being made of safety glass, it didn’t break. Instead, it broke down into a spider web cracking pattern.

  Fortunately, the glass wasn’t the only thing that cracked. The impact of Erin’s skull with the glass did the trick. She fell between Becky and Larry and was still.

  “Jesus!” shouted Larry. “You could’ve killed me.”

  “I just saved your life. She was trying to kill you. You’ve got to keep these things straight, Larry.”

  She slowly turned the car around and headed back towards the police station. They were almost in front of the station. She swerved, taking out a few zombies, and pulled up onto the curb right in front, stopping the car.

  “Get out,” she told Larry. She opened the driver door and stepped out of the car.

  “Jesus H. Christ,” she heard from the roof. Pacelli was looking down at her. “Chief’s gonna be glad to see you.” He picked up his radio. “It’s Becky. Let her in.”

  Larry got out of the car and was looking around. The dead had spotted them and were beginning to converge.

  “Come on, Larry.” Becky ran up to the police station, Larry following right behind her, and an officer let them in. It was Martinez.

  “Where’s the chief?” asked Becky.

  Martinez locked the door and ushered them away from the glass. “Inside, taking inventory of our numbers and coordinating with the State. The Army sealed off the island.” He looked at a blood-soaked Larry. “Hi.”

  Larry introduced himself. “Larry Mendoza.”

  “He saved my life,” said Becky.

  “Thank you for that, Larry,” said Martinez.

  They marched into the station. Becky saw Holbrook in his office. He was on the phone.

  “He’s a vet,” Becky told Martinez. “And not the kind that heals animals.”

  “Really,” said Martinez. “Thank you for your service.”

  Larry couldn’t believe it. Here they were in the middle of the zombie apocalypse…

  When Chief Holbrook saw Becky, his face lit up. He opened the door to his office, and she waltzed right in.

  Larry made to follow, but Martinez stopped him. “No civilians.”

  Larry was taken aback. “What am I supposed to do?”

  Martinez flashed him his million-dollar grin. “Do you like coffee, Larry?”

  *

  “Okay. Good. Let me know when you are there and safe. Okay. Love you, too. Bye.” Holbrook hung up the cell phone. “Becky, I’m glad you’re alive.”

  Becky was on his desk phone trying to call her husband, Greg. She nodded. “That was Lena? She’s still out there?”

  “I tried to send her out of town, but the Army raised the drawbridge and sealed us off from the mainland.”

  “I know,” said Becky. “It was all over the news. The entire east coast is overrun.”

  Greg picked up. “Becky?”

  “Yeah, it’s me. Are you all right?”

  “Fine, but there’re zombies everywhere. Where are you? I tried to call your cell.”

  “I’m at the station. I lost it, but I can’t go into that now.”

  “I’m glad you’re okay. I was worried sick.”

  “Greg, do you remember what we practiced?”

  “Yeah, shelter-in-place. I already filled both bathtubs, and I have the attic stairs pulled down. James and Trisha are here. The zombies got into their house.”

  “Greg, this is very important…were either of them bitten?”

  “No, thank God.”

  “Good. I need you to wait there. You should have enough protein bars and bottled water to last a while.”

  “What’s going on, Becky? The news said the whole eastern seaboard is under attack.”

  “I don’t know yet. I’ve got to go. Stay put until the authorities arrive.”

  Greg paused. “I won’t leave without you.”

  “Greg, if they come, promise me you’ll go with them.”

  “But what about you?”

  “I’m fine. I’m at the police station. We’re hunkered down with plenty of guns and ammunition. Chief Holbrook’s got it all under control.”

  There was another pause. “That’s not what the news said.”

  Holbrook reached for the phone. Becky handed it to him.

  “This is Chief Holbrook. Becky’s okay. We’re in a safe, defensible place. But, she’s going to get careless if she’s worried about you the whole time. We don’t want any accidents.”

  “I don’t want that either,” insisted Greg.

  “Then do what she says and stay safe. If the authorities come for you, go with them. We have your cell number. We’ll keep in touch.”

  “Okay, Chief. Whatever you say.”

  Holbrook hung up the phone. “Don’t worry, he listened to me.”

  Becky sighed in relief. “How’s Lena? Do we need to go get her?”

  “She’s fine. She picked up some passengers. Do you know Tara Bigelow?”

  “The shrink?”

  “Yeah. She’s in their trunk. She was bitten on her forearm and decided to do a field amputation close range with my shotgun.”

  “Holy smokes.”

  “Lena’s heading to a retired surgeon to get her help. She just picked up supplies at a CVS. Barely made it out.”

  “It’s really bad out there, Chief. What’s the plan?”

  “We’re cut off, at least for the moment. I’m trying to find out who we still have. There aren’t many cops left. The National Guard was wiped out. It won’t be long before those things try to get in here.”

  “Who do we have here?”

  “Pacelli’s on the roof, spotting. Just you, me, and Martinez. Who’s your new friend?”

  “I holed up at the Nautilus and had a run in with one of the welfare housing cases.”

  Holbrook shook his head. “Hopefully not this one.”

  “No, Larry helped me out of there. He’s okay. Ex-military. We can use him.”

  “Okay, so we have you, me, Pacelli, Martinez, and…”

  “Larry. Larry Mendoza.”

  Holbrook shook his head and placed his hands on his belt. “Not enough people. There are a hundred of these things out there.”

  “So, what do we do? We can’t just wait here for these things to barge in and eat us.”

  Holbrook thought for a moment. He had received some specialized training in anti-zombie tactics after the last attack. “We have to keep these things occupied and find a way to thin their numbers.”

  He stepped outside the office. Martinez was standing next to Larry, who was seated and sipping coffee from a paper cup.

  “Martinez,
get over here! And bring Larry!”

  Larry looked at the chief and then Martinez, who shrugged. Larry put his coffee down on the desk and stood. They both walked into Holbrook’s office.

  “Chief?”

  Holbrook was pacing. He had a plan up his sleeve. “Martinez, you’re going to drive a cruiser. Lights, sirens, everything. We’re going to be the Pied Piper.

  These zombies will follow us, and I’m going to hang out the window and pick them off a little at a time.”

  “What about the rest of us?” asked Becky.

  Holbrook turned to Larry. “You know how to fire a rifle?”

  “Sure as shit, Chief.”

  “Good. I want you two up there with Pacelli covering me. You’re going to pick them off from the roof.”

  “Do we have enough ammo?” asked Becky.

  “We have some. Enough to thin their numbers a bit.”

  “Then what?”

  “With fewer of them around, we can go out scouting for survivors. They’ll be easier to manage, or avoid.”

  “Do you expect these things to just follow behind you in a neat line?” asked Larry. “What if they bunch up and try to overrun you?”

  “That’s why you’ll be up on the roof providing support,” said Holbrook. “Take out those that aren’t falling in line.”

  “They’ll be coming at you from all sides,” said Becky. “You’ll need a second car to help contain them, corral them. I can drive, and Larry here can shoot.”

  Larry winced at the idea. “I don’t know…I kinda like the roof idea better.”

  Becky shot Larry a biting look.

  Before she could retort, Holbrook cut her off. “He’s right. He can take the roof. Pacelli will go with you.” He got on his radio. “Pacelli, we have a plan. I’m sending an Army vet to relieve you.”

  “…Okay, Chief.”

  Holbrook placed his hand on Larry’s shoulder. “Thank you for this. Now don’t fuck it up.” He turned to Martinez. “Show him to the roof.”

  Martinez gestured for Larry to follow him, and they both left Holbrook’s office.

  Becky sighed. “Do you think it’s a good idea to leave Larry up there alone to watch our backs?”

  “You said he saved your life. You don’t trust him?”

  “What if he’s…mentally unstable?”

  Holbrook leaned on his desk. “Becky, not all vets are emotionally disturbed. In fact, most aren’t. He just fell on hard times, had a bit of bad luck. Happens to lots of good people.”

  “Yeah, I guess.”

  “Did he give you any reason not to trust him?”

  “No. I suppose not.”

  “There, it’s settled then. Besides, he’s a civilian. We can’t ask him to put himself in harm’s way. He’s better used up on the roof.”

  Martinez returned with Pacelli.

  Pacelli looked dubious. “Chief?”

  Holbrook stood up off his desk. “Martinez is with me, and you’re going to be with Becky. One drives, the other shoots. We’re going to flash the lights and hit the sirens, get them to follow while we pick ‘em off. Thin their numbers.”

  Pacelli nodded. “Right on.”

  “We have to get outside to the cars, first,” reminded Becky. “How many we got left?”

  “Exactly two,” said Holbrook. “Martinez, you and Pacelli round up as much ammo as we got left and pack it up. Does Larry have enough up on the roof?”

  “Yeah, I was mostly scouting. Didn’t really expend much. Only when one or two of those zombies were making their way to the station.”

  “Good. We meet by the door by the parking lot in five. Time to kick some ass.”

  * * *

  Lenny Krueger jostled back and forth in the backseat of the police cruiser as Mrs. Chief swerved to either avoid or hit the creeping dead wandering the streets. He knew they were on their way to Dr. Potts’s house. He didn’t know who Dr. Potts was, but he knew he didn’t like doctors because they usually stuck him with needles and made him bleed into a thin glass tube. Or they stuck their fingers in his ass, which he thought was the strangest thing any had done to him. Dr. Atari did it to him when it burned every time he had to pee. What his ass had to do with burning pee was beyond him.

  Dr. Tara was the only doctor he liked. She was nice. She never tried to hurt him. She only talked with him, and he always felt better after their meetings.

  As Mrs. Chief stopped short in front of what must’ve been Mr. Potts’s house, jumping the curb and skidding on the beige and white gravel, Mrs. Chief shouted, “Everyone out! Now!” She grabbed the basket of supplies, flung her door open, and darted out of the car.

  Lenny always did what he was told. He jumped out after Tyrell, Robbie, and the ghost of Billy, of course. Mrs. Chief shoved her basket of medical supplies into Lenny’s hands. “Hold this.” Then she popped the trunk.

  Mrs. Chief and Mrs. Holly rounded the car and began to hoist Tara out of the trunk. Mrs. Chief grabbed her under her arms, and Mrs. Holly grabbed her feet. They hobbled back around the car, leaving the trunk open.

  Billy stretched as Mrs. Chief, Mrs. Holly, and everyone else ran up to the front door of the house.

  Lenny hesitated, turning to Billy, scolding him. “C’mon, Billy! We have to g-g-get inside! It’s not s-s-safe out here!”

  Billy turned his head sideways, checking out Mrs. Chief, grinning. “That’s a nice ass, if I ever saw one.”

  Mrs. Chief turned on the front stoop and yelled at Lenny, not seeing his imaginary friend. “Lenny! Get over here! NOW!”

  Not liking being scolded, Lenny jumped and hopped to it as several zombies milling around across the street took notice. One of them screeched. Another zombie appeared from between the houses on their side of the street. It hunched over and projectile vomited blood through the ghost of Billy.

  Billy looked down at himself. “Well, that was rude.” He turned and flipped off the offending zombie. “Kiss my ass!”

  An old man opened the front door. “Hurry up! Get inside!”

  Mrs. Chief ushered everyone inside as Billy taunted the zombie. The zombie, a teenage girl limping on a broken ankle, passed through the apparition, taking no notice of Billy. He smacked its ass as a parting shot, his spectral hand passing through it.

  Mrs. Chief entered the house, and the old man slammed the storm door shut, locking it. He quickly shut the wooden front door, engaging the deadbolt lock. There was pounding on the screen door and screeching just outside.

  Lenny was relieved when he saw Billy pass right through the door, brushing himself off.

  Mrs. Chief smiled. “Mr. Potts, I presume?”

  The old man was short in stature, thin to the point of waifishness, and his head was topped with wispy white hair. He nodded solemnly, as if accepting a grave duty with great reluctance. He looked at Dr. Tara. “I take it this is the patient?”

  “Yes.”

  “Put her on the dining room table.” He led the way into the next room. Mrs. Chief and Mrs. Holly hoisted her up onto the table, laying her on her back.

  Lenny grimaced as he saw Dr. Tara’s bloody nub lying on the table. He saw what Dr. Tara did to herself, and he hadn’t been able to begin to comprehend it.

  Dr. Potts saw Lenny standing there in the archway, holding the basket of supplies. He walked over to him. “May I?”

  Lenny nodded, and Dr. Potts took the basket in both hands. He brought it over to the dining room table. He pulled out a cardboard box, ripped it open, and slipped on rubber gloves. He muttered words like, ‘avulsion amputation,’ and ‘nerve and vascular tissue,’ but Lenny had no idea what they meant. He looked to Robbie and Tyrell, to see if they understood, but they looked as lost as him.

  Dr. Potts shifted Dr. Tara’s body on the table, adjusting her head and saying things like ‘airway control’ and ‘body temperature.’ The first term reminded Lenny of airplanes and the airport, but he had no idea what that had to do with what was happening here.

  Mrs. Chief stood to the
side, hand over her mouth and eyes glued to Dr. Tara. She didn’t seem to follow what was happening either. Lenny looked at Billy, who was leaning against the wall and picking his teeth with his fingernail. He shrugged. “Beats the shit outta me, kid.”

  Lenny was beginning to question if this Dr. Potts was even speaking English, and then he saw Mrs. Holly. Every time the old man said one of those gibberish words, she nodded as if she understood what he was saying.

  This reassured Lenny. At least someone knew what was going on. Then he remembered Mrs. Chief referring to Mrs. Holly as a nurse back in the car when she explained to Robbie and Tyrell why Mrs. Holly was twisting something around Dr. Tara’s stub.

  Dr. Potts looked over his shoulder, and what he said next Lenny understood. “They shouldn’t be watching this.”

  Mrs. Chief nodded and walked over to Lenny, Tyrell, and Robbie, all standing in the archway, looking on in horror. “Lenny, I need you to take Tyrell and Robbie into the other room. Maybe put on the TV.”

  “But I want to watch,” protested Tyrell.

  Mrs. Chief took a knee and placed her hands on Tyrell’s shoulders. “Honey, Dr. Potts needs to concentrate if he’s going to help your mom. It won’t do her any good if you stand here and watch.”

  Tyrell’s face began to contort, as if he was going to cry. Mrs. Chief hugged him. “I’ll let you know what is happening, but you can’t be here now. Okay?”

  Tyrell, a tear escaping his right eye, nodded.

  The ghost of Billy elbowed Lenny in the ribs. When Lenny looked at him, Billy was nodding to Dr. Potts. “Check out his arm.”

  Lenny looked over at Dr. Potts. His short sleeve shifted, and Lenny saw what he thought was a bite mark.

  “Lenny.”

  Lenny’s eyes widened as the implications of that bite mark dawned on him.

  “Lenny!”

  Lenny snapped out of his head and saw Mrs. Chief glaring at him. “Now, Lenny.”

  Lenny paused a moment, remembering what he was instructed to do, and waved an arm. “Follow me. We’ll w-w-watch television.”

  He went into the living room, Tyrell and Robbie following behind him. Billy brought up the rear. Lenny turned on the television, and it immediately went onto the news. He grimaced and changed the channel to a western. A man dressed entirely in black was having a shootout with what had to be the ‘good guy,’ clad entirely in white.