What Lies Beneath: Z is for Zombie Book 6

by catt dahman

  fence back away from the road. The windows of the bottom floor were boarded up. “Maybe we can stay with them a few days, rest, and recover.”

  “If they don’t shoot us.”

  As they considered it, they heard a terrible chorus of moaning. From a

  corner of a house came a group of zombies, more than twenty. The road was narrow with trees, and not far away, a wooden bridge crossed over a stream with steep banks. Sarah thought that once enough Zs were on the bridge, the group could shoot at them and then take out any who remained and made it across.

  Simple.

  One of the women in a car panicked and gunned the engine. Only three

  Zs made it across, and the rest were packed into a group behind them. She hit the first one, and it rolled up and spider-webbed the windshield. The other two squished and went under the car.

  The situation still might have been okay, but she drove to the side to avoid the embankment and clinked and clacked over some large rocks. Those, and the bodies beneath the car, made the tires start to spin, and the more they spun, the deeper into the long grass and soft ground they sank.

  Neither Sarah nor Jake were experts with guns, but with rifles, they shot at

  the zombies anyway, as did Henry and a man with them named Randy. They scored a few hits to the zombies’ heads, but mostly, they missed. The group of the things was now off of the bridge and closing in, and then more came across.

  “Get in the cars; we can turn around,” Nikki said. One tried to get into the

  car, panicked, and ended up smashed into a tree. By the time the SUV was back on the road and able to go, the rest of the Zs blocked the road since they did not move.

  When the SUV lurched forward, it bogged down as it hit body after body until ten or twelve of the monsters were under the wheels, keeping the SUV from moving. The only way to get over the bodies that built up was at a running start.

  More appeared across the bridge, from behind them, and from the woods.

  “We are so cluster fucked.”

  Jake gave Sarah a look that said it was about time for the two of them to

  cut and run, super hero image, indeed.

  “Get inside the gate,” a woman called from behind the iron fence.

  She and a teen boy had guns and were much better shots, eliminating those close to the survivors.

  Sarah and Jake drove into the open gate; Henry and Randy followed them. Nikki saw the plan and dove into her SUV a second before a zombie would have gotten her. He pounded on the side glass. Ignoring him, she drove through the open gate with her supplies and passengers.

  In the first car, four people got out, pushing zombies back. The four

  dragged their heavy, supply packs, called bug-out-bags or BOBs. These were grossly over packed.

  “Drop that crap and come on,” Sarah screamed.

  A man was the first to go down, as a zombie grabbed his arm, yanked on

  his shoulder, and bit his wrist savagely, its teeth pulping the flesh and burrowing into the bone. The man beat the thing with his pack but fell, unbalanced.

  Without hesitation, the zombie dropped to his knees to get the man’s face. When knocked back, the zombie leaned forward and drove its face into the man’s stomach, but he mostly got fabric and a little skin from under the shirt.

  A mashed zombie, his legs broken, pulled himself over and fell on the man’s thighs, pinning him, and began to gnaw at the man’s shins. The first one pulled the shirt away and took a huge bit from the man’s belly, making him scream hysterically.

  Sarah and Jake shot at the thing as soon as they got a clear shot.

  Both missed.

  A woman, carrying a child of about four or five years old, ran to the gates

  and fell over a zombie. They both went down right next to the zombies who were mashed and broken to pieces. The monsters felt no pain and had no more motivation than to attack, bite, and eat until the person was dead and infected.

  Unless their brains were destroyed or at least messed up badly, the

  zombies wouldn’t stop. The infection was like a little robot that controlled their behavior.

  Broken fingers, crushed hands, and flattened arms of the zombies all tried

  to reach the woman and child. The zombies used battered and ruined feet to push themselves along or clawed with their hands to move. Ribs jutted out from the bodies and caught on sticks. Some looked skinned. Several snapped filthy teeth at the pair; one had the woman’s hair in a battered fist. The child’s face was vanishing under the bloody assault, and the mother took a wound to her throat that left her unable to fight back. It happened in mere seconds, but it seemed to go on forever for those who watched the assault.

  Chase Malone aimed her rifle. She didn’t miss either of the two shots.

  Both the woman and child stopped screaming and went silent.

  An older teen girl leaped over the snapping corpses, dodged a trio who

  tried to grab her, and side-stepped until she could jump to the car that was stalled out on the bodies. She leaped onto the roof of the car as they clutched and moaned, hopped to the trunk, and jumped, rolling. She yelled in pain and came up to her feet with one arm cradled to her chest.

  As a zombie reached for her, a man in the group hit the zombie and knocked it down, and then grabbed the girl. They ran to the gate. The final man from the first car got out, having seen all that happened. His leg was bandaged, and he could hardly walk; he looked to be about seventy.

  “Come on, Mr. Crandall,” Jake ordered.

  The man had a handgun. Almost in a daze, he looked around and measured

  the distance he needed to get through the smashed crawlers and the shamblers, who were converging on him. Although everything took only seconds to unfold, to him, it took forever while he watched people he liked torn to shreds and tortured to death by teeth. It was a very painful thing to be eaten alive; no one passed out, only screamed the entire time.

  Mr. Crandall didn’t think long; he just put the revolver to his head and

  pulled the trigger, letting the .38 with hollow points do its work.

  Another SUV mowed down some zombies, and they got inside to safety.

  The time came to close the gate. From a safe distance, the group inside shot the zombies that were left.

  Three people from another vehicle did a three-point turn to drive away, got a few yards, saw a horde bearing down on them, and did another three- point turn to go back.

  The last vehicle barely made it through as Chase, Adam, and Henry closed

  the gates while the rest tried to reload and shoot. From the second car, five people emerged finally.

  “Run,” Chase yelled as he stopped to shoot; only one shot hit its mark,

  killing the zombie. Two women held hands tightly, ran for all they were worth, dodged corpses, and made it through the gate, and wailed with fear as they collapsed.

  A man used a baseball bat; he hit the things on their legs, dropped the

  Zs, and kicked them away. He killed several outright.

  A second man bashed at their faces with a pipe and did a lot of damage, but he was surrounded by seven of the things, and the sheer weight of them drove him back. As he hit each, noses, teeth, lips, cheeks, and foreheads all crushed, but there was no pain reaction; they didn’t even flinch at the damage.

  As he swung, one grabbed his arm, and another grabbed his shoulder; the

  zombies used their weight to drive him to the ground. He fought back, but he was bitten. He screamed for a very long time.

  The final person was an older woman, who used a bat to keep the zombies

  off her. One snagged the bat and pulled it away from the woman, so she put her head down and ran towards the gate. She and the one man were the last ones. The people inside the gate found it impossible to keep the gate open, fight the dead people off, and lose the battle.

  The man stopped and fought to give the woman a chance to get away.

  They slid th
rough as they closed the gate, pushed with all their strength, and dodged teeth and hands that reached for them. Once the gate was locked, it was difficult, if not impossible, for the Zs to get in unless they had an enormous crowd to push on it, and they didn’t seem that smart.

  Seeing the gate was closed, the man moved through the mess of bodies

  and blood and the infernal moaning sound and jumped. He made it only three feet off the ground, but he looked determined to climb the fence and make it over.

  “That’s it. Climb. You have it,” Henry encouraged him.

  Chase and Adam tried to shoot the Zs, which were closer and much easier

  to hit, at only two feet away. The climb was hard as the man was already tired and dehydrated, but he made it another foot. Another foot and he would reach the top at least.

  Chase wondered how the hell the man could pull himself up and over the

  spikes, but Nikki had thick blankets out, and she said they would toss them over the spikes so he could roll over. He might get hurt or even stabbed, but it was possible he would be just fine.

  Another foot. He was five feet off of the ground and had both hands on the

  spikes, amazing. He looked athletic and strong.

  While they watched and cheered him on, a very tall zombie reached for the

  man’s shoe, really a sneaker. Chase saw and groaned inside. She sighted her target and fired, hitting the tall one in the head and dropping him, but the bastard already had taken the sneaker off and bitten into the man’s heel. A bone poked through as blood dripped.

  He’d never walk right again with his heel missing, Chase thought.

  But there was more than that.

  “Come on,” Henry said.

  “Hell, no, he’s infected now,” someone protested.

  “Well, he can’t stay there where they’ll…you know.”

  The man’s arms strained while supporting himself on the fence.

  “Hey…you…woman with a rifle…do me...okay? I don’t wanna be eaten.

  God that hurts like a son of a bitch.”

  Chase realized he meant her. She looked toward the pair who rode in

  on motorcycles and dressed in costumes with color-coordinated details, hair lacquered with red and blue, comic book heroes.

  Sarah, looking badass and warrior-like, was pale, but she shook her

  head. “I suck as a super hero, and I can’t shoot worth shit,” said Sarah.

  Jake shrugged. “I mean we tried to look the part, but we really suck.”

  Adam lit a cigarette, of all things, and glared. “Dumb fucks. I’ll do it, Chase.”

  He drew on the cigarette and then handed it to her, and she gratefully sucked smoke into her lungs.

  “Come on,” the man urged.

  The things reached for him as he kicked them away. He wouldn’t last

  much longer.

  “What’s your name?” Adam asked.

  “Tom.”

  “ ’K. God bless and go with God,” Adam quietly said, then sighed. He fired

  the gun; the bullet went into Tom’s forehead and exploded out the back with a little gore; he looked peaceful as he fell. The creatures moaned louder, deprived of a meal.

  They shot more, and a few of the other people used tools and makeshift

  spears to slid between the bars and jiggle into the brains. In a little while, the only ones left were mashed into a pulp and crawling pitifully around the road. Three of the ones behind the gate went out with bats and finished them off.

  “Thank you,” Henry said to Adam and Chase.

  Chase shrugged. “I guess anyone could have a run of bad luck; we will help.

  Let’s get you inside and introduced.”

  Sarah reached her hand out, eyes downcast. “Hi, my name is Sarah; I was

  a computer programming student, gaming, and comic book geek. Then, I was a super hero in my mind. Now, I am nothing. Nice to meet you and thank you.”

  Chase sighed, “Hi. I’m Chase Malone, and I used to be a fiction writer: my

  genre: fantasy, horror, and science fiction. I wrote about zombies once, but now they are real, and to be honest, I am nothing.”

  Adam wiped his face. He teared up when he shot Tom. “I’m Adam. I was

  nothing, and I’m still nothing, but nothing is a hell of a lot better than being a fucking Zom.”

  11

  Inoculation

  When Hannah saw the military Humvee, her first instinct was to run and hide.

  To begin with, the soldiers might want to put her in a containment center “for her own safety”, but in movies and books, when people in charge do that, you can bet the whole facility will be overrun with zombies and everyone will be eaten alive. He will either get inside somehow and breach the security, or someone is bitten and hiding it really well.

  She didn’t want or need anyone to play mother to her or anything along that line because she had just gotten out of that misery. She could care for herself very well and enjoyed her own company, as talking to herself provided the most intelligent conversations she had.

  A man stepped out, smiling in a friendly way, but she didn’t smile back or drop her trusty axe. He dressed in camo, had guns, and was handsome and young; she did like his blondish hair and bright blue eyes. He was Brad Pitt cute even if Brad were like old as hell now.

  “Hello, there, little lady warrior.”

  “Why are all of you here?” She knew she looked formidable. It discouraged people from trying to mess with her. She wore boots, jeans, and a tee shirt, and she carried several items on her utility belt, along with her axe. In these weeks and even though she was a slightly built twelve-year-old, her arms and legs had toned considerably.

  “We’re here to help you. I’m Sergeant Ben Cryer, and this…this a doctor…Dr. Anderson. We are part of the army and a disease research team.”

  “Luckily, I don’t need a doctor. I’m doing just fine. No bites and no injuries.”

  “That’s a relief, ” said another soldier who joined them, “good for you.”

  “We are looking for survivors; we have first aid and other items if you need them.”

  “Thanks, anyway.”

  “And we have an inoculation for this epidemic, finally. It’s a cure really, we feel. We here in the United States will survive this because of the disease research team.”

  “But wait; call now, and we’ll double your order, just pay separate shipping and handling.”

  “Huh?”

  The doctor laughed. “She’s being funny. But yes, we have the inoculation.”

  “An inoculation? Really? With this going on, someone figured out how to stop it, a little late. Huh? Can it fix them…turn them back to people? Can it repair the sponge brains and make them not automations of contagion and cannibals?”

  “Ummm…no, but it’s for those who are survivors.”

  Doctor Anderson smiled. “Oh, she is perfect…bright and full of fire.”

  “Are you some pervert? Studies show that in times of emotional turmoil after a catastrophe, sexual deviants are likely to act on impulses. It’s based on the need to reproduce the species in times of chaos and destruction, but perverts…well...they do ‘pervy’ things.”

  Cryer laughed. “He’s just a doctor, and no one is going to harm you; no perverts here. We are in the armed forces. What’s your name?”

  “Hannah. I’m a Scorpio. I like long walks on the beach, lasagna Mondays, reading Kealan Patrick Burke, and killing zeds. How about you?” She was deciding on fight or flight.

  “I know we look scary, and you didn’t expect us. Or you didn’t expect any help from anyone.”

  “No shit,” Hannah said as she glared.

  “Do you need food or flashlights? First aid? Water? Anything?”

  Hannah shook her head. “Nope, I am fine.”

  “Are you alone?”

  “Nah. I have two killer Dobermans who should be here in a second and a motorcycle gang…and another gang, I
like…yanno…hangin’ with my homies,” she was furious as she replied.

  “Are you interested in the inoculation? It will make you immune to the Red infection, and a bite will not harm you.

  “Really? So you found a way to contain a Lyssa virus and stop the prion disease from piggybacking on it? How does it prevent the brain from turning to a sponge?”

  “Fascinating,” Doctor Anderson asked, “Are you interested in medicine? Research?”

  “Nope, just in killing zeds.”

  “She’s perfect.”

  Anderson moved closer.

  “I don’t want an inoculation. You better not give it since you don’t know what you’re doing. There is no way possible that you can develop anything that prevents the prions from settling in the brain once saliva-to-blood contact is made.”

  “Why don’t you come sit with us and talk?” Anderson and the other man moved closer. Hannah let her hand fall to the gun she carried.

  “I don’t want to be shot, Hannah; come on, let’s just talk.”

  When the two soldiers pounced, she managed to swing the axe down and severely cut the other man’s arm although she aimed for his neck. Blood splattered them, the soldier yelped and cursed with pain, but Cryer had her in an iron grip, and she couldn’t reach the gun she should have used sooner. She felt a sting in her arm when Anderson got to her, and he flung an empty syringe to one side.

  “Hannah, you’re about to feel very tired and sleepy from that little shot. I assure you that you will not be harmed in any way. We will only do what is best to preserve your health and life. You won’t be forced to do anything or be taken away with us. We are here only to help you.”

  She felt tired, and her eyes began to close. “Fuck, you.”

  12

  Chase Malone’s House

  Everyone was checked for bites; there were a few scrapes and cuts to clean and bandage, but the newcomers were quickly settled. With their supplies, the new people made a filling meal with canned meat and vegetables that helped the morale. But they were saddened that so many were lost in the chaos and panic, knowing that a few more guns and better planning and execution of plans would have made all the difference.

  Henry thanked Chase and Adam many times because, without their letting them in behind the gates, more or all of them would have been killed.