We were careful not to become overconfident with the ability of the new vehicles to clear through the carnage and roamers. While it was satisfying to clear them out from behind the wheel, we needed to reserve any chances for damage until it was a matter of life or death.
Tommy had supplied Eric and Justin with two-way radios, so we were able to communicate as we travelled. This was an absolute life saver. There are too many instances to mention that, without the ability to communicate with each other, one or both of the vehicles would have ended up in a bad way.
Once we got onto I-94 and began making our way west we found that the drive was more obstructed that it had been previously, but still passable and in better shape that the side roads. My only concern was that the decline on the gauge for the H3 was very noticeable and I gathered that the Hummer was no exception. Even though this was something we planned on happening, I couldn’t help but feel a bit uneasy.
We were making pretty good time and were across the border into Detroit when we ran into the first snag. There was a pile up of vehicles in the roadway near East Outer Drive that required us to detour onto the service drive. A large group of zombies were milling about the wreckage as we exited the freeway.
Once we got topside, there was a fairly large and concentrated group of zombies milling about. My worst nightmare became a reality as we were forced to navigate off of the service drive and onto main roads to avoid them. As we made the turn onto Harper in hopes of catching the Conner entrance back to westbound I-94, my stomach sunk as the sea of zombies greeting us there became instantly aware of our presence.
Our only recourse was to serpentine through the side streets as we continued to make our way back to I-94. Keeping the vehicles undamaged was now unavoidable, as runners were coming from every direction. The screeching and howling coming from the masses pierced our ears as we continued on, with bodies glancing off sheet metal and being forced into the undercarriage.
Tool did his best to run a blocking route with the larger vehicle, leaving a slippery mess of body parts behind that made it difficult to control the ride. The view through the rear view mirror was almost biblical as it reminded me of what Moses would have seen watching the Red Sea close up behind him. Eyes glowing bright as arms outstretched towards us. With gaping mouths yearning for a fest they issued an order for us to stop, but we weren’t about to comply.
We made it back onto the entrance ramp and were once again on the freeway, no worse for wear. I radioed my concern to Tool and Justin that we had to be prepared for the same scenario, with the exception of the possibility there would be no exit ramp to divert to. It was agreed that in such a circumstance we would have to execute an all-out retreat and abort the mission. That left us with the real possibility that we would have to plow through the masses of zombies that we had just successfully avoided conflict with. This was beginning to feel more and more like a suicide mission.
We met similar resistance all the way to the home of my Aunt. By the time we began to pull down the street where she lived, we had a steady stream of runners following behind us. As we approached the home, I saw the burning wreckage of what used to be the SRT Assault Vehicle on the front lawn just over the sidewalk.
The vehicle was essentially a smaller version of an Armored Personnel Carrier (APC) that the US Military used. It was armor plated, with a mounted battering ram on the front, and bullet resistant window plating positioned around the cabin. Some serious firepower had hit this thing given the condition it was in. There didn’t appear to be anyone inside, as far as I could tell from the distance the flames were keeping me.
Tool had passed the house up, clearing the oncoming runners who were making their way in the opposite direction. I pulled the H3 up to the front porch and parked it.
“What now?” Eric asked.
Time was of the essence and I ignored Eric as I radioed to Tool that we were going into the home. The front door was broken apart and looked like it had been breached by the SRT vehicle.
“Let’s go!” I yelled to Eric as we exited and made a quick rush for the front door. “Cover the front while I go in,” I said to Eric pointing to the runners who were quickly approaching from where we had travelled down the street, “I’ll just be a second!”
I called out frantically for Geoff as I dashed down the main hall and began checking the main floor. There were littered bodies of zombies that had been dispatched, but there was no sign of my Aunt, Geoff or Mike.
I could hear the racing of an engine out front and a volley of gunfire as I made my way upstairs. As I cleared each room, there was the same evidence of a battle with the zombies, but every indication was that whoever took a stand here was successful. I continued yelling out for a response as I cleared the second floor and made my way back to the staircase.
I had almost made it to the first step on my way downstairs when something had grabbed my right ankle. My momentum was broken by the entanglement, sending me crashing head first down several steps as I ended up face first into the hardwood floor of the landing.
Luckily my AR was properly harnessed and my Glock had been securely holstered. My tomahawk left my grip and tumbled down the stairs to the first floor. I pivoted on my back and unholstered my sidearm bringing it up and on target up the stairwell.
It was there that I saw half of a zombie, badly decomposed, dragging itself down the stairs towards me. The exposed spine and part of a pelvic bone scraped and thumped as it made its way downwards towards me. It only had glowing eye, as the other had went dark from a piece of wood lodged into the eye socket.
I fired off several rounds, decimating the skull from the forehead, sending grey bone and brain fragments splashing backwards against the stair risers. It went limp and slid the rest of the way down, resting in my lap on the landing. I quickly recovered to my feet, retrieving my tomahawk and leaping back down to the first floor.
I made my way to the basement door, which was closed. The thumping and scraping sounds from the other side, that were accompanied by shrieks and moans, led me to believe there was nothing alive down there.
As I turned to make my way back outside through the front door, I was greeted by several zombies stuck in the doorway. Comically they were all trying to gain entry at the same choke point and were wedged together. While it kept them from flooding in, it also kept me from escaping through that route.
I ran to the back door and swung it open, clearing the entrance with my gun as I proceeded outside. There were two zombies in the back yard that got sight of me and charged. I had to fire off several rounds to make land headshots, as the combination of them running and my adrenaline made it difficult to keep an accurate sight picture on them.
I could hear engines racing and more shots from the next block over. I ran in that direction and grabbed the two-way radio, yelling out a call for help.
“I’m out of the house now and running through the backyard, pick me up on the block over!”
I leapt over the dilapidated fence in the adjacent yard and was greeted by several more zombies. I holstered my sidearm and sheathed my tomahawk, bringing up my AR from the sling. I doubled back as they wandered towards me, all them in an accelerated state of decomposition and not able to run.
For a moment my mind wandered to wondering what caused their decomposition and what made some zombies much more agile than others. The only conclusion I could come to, in the limited time I had to reflect on the issue, was that the older they were in the zombified state the more decomposed and deteriorated they were. The faster and more agile seemed to indicate that they had passed more recently and still maintained most of their physical agility. If that was the case, would it simply be possible to hide out and simply wait until they decomposed completely?
I continued my retreat and circled back around to the side of the house, where I could get them following me in a straight line. They didn’t appear to have enough awareness that would have them flanking you on purpose, they only charged instinctively towards
their prey. As I moved towards the front of the house, I brought my AR up on target and began firing. I was hoping for a triple kill with one shot, but was fairly satisfied when all three of them had their craniums explode in just as many rounds fired.
Suddenly I felt a pair of arms grab my shoulders from behind. I instinctively dropped forward and began to run when I heard Eric yelling from behind me.
“Griff! Let’s go! This way!”
I turned to see Eric turning away from me and leading me towards the front yard. I was relieved that I hadn’t turned and fired blindly, as Eric wouldn’t have fared too well.
As we came into the front yard, the H3 was parked dead ahead and we had zombies approaching from all sides. The roar of an engine caught my attention and had to laugh at the comical sight before me.
Tool was roaring down the middle of the street in the Hummer, clearing out zombies like a snow plow. Bodies were sent flying in all directions, bouncing of others who were in the path of their flight. Hanging out from the passenger side window, Justin was firing round after round down the street, making contact with a good amount of the stragglers. Limbs were being sheared off and heads were exploding as he let loose on his assault.
I actually passed Eric up and got to the H3 first. There was quick thinking on his part because he didn’t just instinctively run around to get in on the passenger side. Instead, he got into the rear seat from the drivers’ side, diving over the equipment for safety as I threw the transmission into drive.
“Let’s get back to the freeway, now!” I yelled over the two-way radio.
Tool led the path of destruction as we followed behind, with Eric stumbling his way back over the seats to the front. As I drove defensively to avoid hitting the zombies in the smaller vehicle, my evasive turns sent Eric ass over head as he landed in a less than flattering position between the front seat and floorboard. I continued on driving a defensive serpentine pattern just to add insult to injury as he continued to try and upright himself.
We made it back to the freeway and began heading back east on I-94. As we passed the Connor exit, it was comforting to see that the dividing barrier was holding the previous group of zombies we had escaped from at bay over in the east lanes. We still had some pockets of zombies we had to avoid along the drive home, but we were in pretty good shape considering the onslaught we had just survived.
“Next time, I’m driving.” Eric said as he gave me a wicked stare.
“Not a chance,” I replied keeping my eyes on the road, “no way that’s going to happen. You know, you sure can dish it out – but you can’t take it.”
Eric cracked a forced smile letting me know that I made my point. As he reloaded our ammunition supply, I was hoping he wasn’t sabotaging any of my loads in the process. Paybacks can be a bitch, but in these times they can mean your death.
As we continued back home, I radioed to Tool that we were going to swing by and see if Geoff had possibly made it back to his house. I was fairly confident that the house was checked well enough and that fact that I didn’t recognize the zombies as family of mine was a good thing. The only troubling thought that I had was that the basement wasn’t checked. Then again from the sounds of what was behind the door, if it was family that had turned I was glad I didn’t see them.
I still couldn’t figure out how the SRT vehicle got in the condition it was in. It was obvious that it wasn’t a defendable position if Geoff had abandoned it. Granted the force of zombies would have overcome us had we stayed, I figured it was probably much worse at the time Geoff had arrived at the house.
As we exited I-94 onto Hall Rd, the expanse of the divided roadway was littered with debris and abandoned vehicles. The east and west lanes were only divided by a median, leaving us more vulnerable than the physical barrier on the freeway.
There was some zombie activity, but not quite as much as there was once we turned north onto Gratiot. It looked like an unorganized block party, with zombies milling about aimlessly. We made it into the subdivision where Geoff lived and found ourselves in the midst of the same battle as when we were in Detroit. Runners gathered behind us as we made our way inward, while we pushed through the bulk of the ones gathered to the front.
Examination of our surroundings gave me an idea. Most, if not all of the lots were fenced in. If I bailed at mid-block, I could cut through the yards using the fences as a protective barrier. Sure I would have to contend with a few zombies along the way, but it sure beat fighting through what was quickly becoming an oversized unwelcome gathering around us.
I radioed the information to Tool and Justin, as I gave Eric the wheel. I grabbed my tomahawk and readied my weapons as I pulled curbside. I leapt out as Eric took the wheel and spun off, as I made my break for the fence line at the end of the block.
I miscalculated slightly as I took off on foot, because I set myself up closest to the yard with the high framed wooden privacy fencing. There was no way I was going to scale the height in time, as there were half a dozen runners closing in on me the instant I left the H3. I cut back on an angle and tried for the adjoining yard with the cyclone fencing, which was only chest high.
As I ran to the fencing, I had to outpace the runners behind me, while bracing for a possible confrontation with the ones advancing form in front. There was a moment of confusion amongst them, as some hesitated between me and the much larger vehicles pulling away. I wished that we had that deer carcass now, as dragging it behind the Hummer would have no doubt offered an excellent distraction. Unfortunately, I was the freshest meat in the vicinity – and they knew it.
I had just placed my left hand on the fence when I was met on the right side by a runner who had been coming up on an angle from in front of me. I used my right hand to come across his outstretched arms, brushing him away as I held a firm grip on my SOG skull crusher. He was a fairly thin built male, wearing running shorts and a hoodie. Leave it to an avid jogger to have become one of the undead. There was no doubt that I probably wouldn’t be getting away from him on foot.
I brought the tomahawk around in a backswing, landing the breaching tool into his right temple as he turned to me with his jaws gaping open. As I heard the snap of the brittle skull bone breaking, the yellow glow of his eyes went dark as I quickly pulled it back out. The side of his face hit the fencing as he fell, his head sliding down the aluminum links like a block of cheese on a grater. His ear tore away as it caught on the fence as he fell to the ground, black and grey matter pouring from the new aeration in his skull.
I could hear the zombies closing in fast around me, and needed to be over the fence without delay. I grabbed the top rail of the fence as I used the jogger as a step-stool, hefting my legs over the fence to the safety of the other side. Bodies crashed against the fence as I continued to run, looking back only to make sure that none of them had the dexterity of climbing. Much to my relief, none of them had. It would be just my luck that an Olympic hurdler would have turned and found his way here. How fucked up would that be?
My plan to use the backyards worked, as the fence supplied a buffer zone of security as I made my way up the block. Once I got to Geoff’s house I made my way cautiously to the rear door wall. The opening was locked and covered in curtains, keeping me from getting a look inside. I tapped on the window in a pattern of code, hoping that Geoff would recognize it as being human contact. I was surprised when I didn’t receive a response.
I got on the two-way radio and asked Tool and Justin to get a look at the front of the house. As they circled back around the block, zombies following in tow, they reported back that there was nothing unusual to be seen. It looked to them as if it was secure, with the garage door being closed and all the drapes pulled closed.
I made my way over to the side of the house under the protection of the fencing, where there was a side door entrance to the garage. The door was locked, but I used the breaching tool on my tomahawk to pry the strike plate back and pop the bolt. It was pitch black except for some ambient light that w
as getting in from the open side door, which I swung completely open to help illuminate my surroundings.
There was a crudely parked vehicle in the garage that had obviously seen better days. There were blood and bone fragments all over the front of the car and it was riddled with bullet holes. The front headlights had been smashed out and there was significant front end damage. As I walked past the side window and peered in, something grabbed at my pant leg from underneath the vehicle.
I jumped back, bringing my tomahawk over my right shoulder at the ready. In the darkness I could make out a pair of faint yellow glowing eyes from under the passenger side, with a skeletal arm reaching out towards me. The hand was void of any remaining skin tissue and only had three fingers left. A mangled mess of bone and raw muscle mechanically opened and closed in my direction, trying to get a grasp. The zombie had apparently been run over and was lodged under the vehicle, with most of its flesh torn away from being dragged against the pavement.
The head of the zombie was too far underneath to get a good swing at it with my tomahawk. I had to crouch down, pulling out my sidearm and firing a round through the skull. I wasn’t thinking of how loud the shot was going to be in the close quarters of the garage, as the shot rang out it nearly blew out both of my eardrums. As I rose to my feet, my ears were ringing something fierce.
I made my way to the door leading into the house and knocked on it in a pattern as I did at the door wall. Due to my limited hearing, I was unable to tell if there was any response. I readied my breaching tool and pried away at the door frame. This door was a bit trickier, as it had a deadbolt attachment, but I was able to finally work my way inside.
The house was extremely dark and damp, with a strange odor lingering in the air. I called out for Geoff and Mike, but didn’t get a response. I radioed to Tool to let him know that I was inside. He replied back letting me know that they wouldn’t be able to continue cruising about much longer.
Zombie Reign (Book 2): Rescue in Detroit Page 9
