Zombie D.O.A. Series Four: The Complete Series Four

by JJ Zep

  He vaulted over a crack in the ice, turned and looked back. The others were following, Carlito doing an exaggerated Z lurch. Despite the seriousness of their situation, crazy laughter bubbled close to the surface. He bit it back with difficulty.

  The shoreline was maybe thirty feet away. Chris stopped on the ice and waited for the others to close the gap before he set off again, pausing on the beach only a moment before sprinting for the trees.

  He’d barely reached cover when a zombie appeared in front of him, a woman with stringy blond hair and a face that was rotted away from her skull in places. Chris took a step back and stumbled, the AK spilling from his frozen hands. He made a grab for his sidearm, got the weapon free of its holster and lined it up on the zombie’s face. He let the thing come, holding fire, knowing that a shot would attract more of them.

  He could hear the thrum of the Humvees on the parkway, rolling closer, the rumble of the engines mercifully drowning out the Z hum.

  The zombie was right on top of him now, its teeth showing through rotted lips in a parody of amusement, its smell an unpleasant mix of wood rot and boiled cabbage. It sniffed at him, leaning in and twitching the stub of its nose energetically. Chris placed the barrel of the 9-mil between its sagging breasts, preventing it from getting any closer. But the Z had concluded its sniffing exploration and apparently decided that he wasn’t edible. It shuffled off to rejoin its comrades.

  “Who’s the babe?” Carlito said, sliding in beside him with Ana close behind. Now Julie joined them, now Strangler and Eddy Montague. Soon all of them had made the shelter of the trees. All except Ruby.

  Chris felt a jolt of panic. “Where’s Ruby?” he started to say, but then he saw her, bringing up the rear, moving with none of her usual poise. Ruby looked incredibly frail, pallid in the face, blue tingeing her lips.

  He ran to meet her, pulled her towards cover, wrapped her in an embrace that she resisted at first. She was shivering violently, something that had nothing to do with the plunge she’d taken into the frozen Hudson (her unique biology could withstand much lower temperatures than that).

  “You did everything you could, Rube,” he whispered into her ear. “There was nothing more anyone could have done.”

  And then Ruby did something she hadn’t done since she was a baby. She began to cry.

  three

  Joe Thursday was a man who believed in taking decisive action. He’d come this far, lived this long, survived this much, due to one simple rule – when the shit hits the fan, choose the best course available to you and follow it through to its conclusion. Except, right now, the best course of action (the only course of action), wasn’t one he could take. His every instinct told him they should run, cross the Triboro into Queens while they still could. And yet, here he was, half an hour since the barricades had been blown, still pacing the floor of Chris and Kelly’s apartment, still trying to convince Kelly that they had to leave.

  “I’m not leaving without Chris,” Kelly said for the umpteenth time and Joe could see from the firm set of her jaw that he wasn’t going to talk her down. Kelly was as stubborn as Chris, more stubborn, even, when her mind was set. And it was set now. Other than socking Kelly over the head and flipping her over his shoulder (an option he might have considered if she hadn’t been eight months pregnant) they were staying.

  He let out a sigh, removed the radio from his belt and spoke into it. “Hooley, how we doing up there partner?” He’d sent Hooley to the roof not long after the second explosion had sounded. The reports thus far had been far from encouraging.

  “Hooley?”

  “Yeah Joe?”

  “What’s going on out there?”

  “We got us a mess of trouble, friend. Looks like every Z in the Wastelands is heading our way. Last time I seen this many ugly sum bitches gathered together was when the Klan paraded through Whelan. Come by.”

  “I wish he wouldn’t use that kind of talk,” Janet said. She was sitting on a couch, her arm around Samantha. Kelly sat in a chair opposite, hovering on the edge as though ready to dash off at any moment. Charlie, Jojo and Ferret, were at the window, hanging out, their necks craned northward as if they were waiting for the first floats in the Macy’s Day Parade.

  “How those Humvee’s doing?” Joe said into the radio.

  “Off the bridge now, working their way along the highway, Z’s are holding them up. Come by.”

  “Holy crap!” This was Charlie, standing at the window.

  “Charles Christopher Collins!” Janet reprimanded. “Language!”

  Joe ignored Janet’s complaints about her grandson’s choice of vocabulary. He shuttled across the room towards the window, limping hardly at all, the stiffness in his ankle forgotten.

  “What is it, Charlie?”

  “Z’s, Uncle Joe. I’ve never seen so many Z’s in my life.”

  Joe found a space at the window and looked north to where the first of the Z’s were just appearing in the T-junction Columbus formed with 110th. They crept forward like a biblical plague, thousands upon thousands of the things. It was too late to run now. It was time for plan B, which meant getting everyone up to the 16th floor, barricading themselves in, and hoping the Z’s stayed on the streets rather than rampaging through the buildings.

  “Joe?” Hooley’s voice squawked from the radio.

  “Come in, Hooley.”

  “Something going on out there I think you should see.”

  “What is it, Hooley?”

  “Best you see for yourself.”

  four

  “Don’t do it Chris. It’s insane.”

  He looked back at Julie, crouched down in the bushes as the drone of the Humvees drew nearer. She had a point. What he was contemplating was insane. He was doing it though, it was decided.

  “Ruby’s going with me, but I can’t ask any of you to join us. You lay low here, wait for the Humvees to get well past, then head back the way we came, back into Jersey. That’s what I’d do if I had the choice. Unfortunately, I don’t. My family is in there.”

  “At least wait until the Z’s have passed,” Julie said. “At least wait for that.”

  He shook his head. “Can’t risk it. It may be too late by then.”

  He peered from cover to the zombies still streaming along the road, then he scanned his gaze left. The Humvees weren’t in sight yet, but they soon would be. If he was going to do this, it had to be now.

  “I’m going with you,” Ana said.

  “Sure you want to do that, Ana?”

  “I’m going. What’s that big lug Joe Thursday going to do without me? Probably hasn’t eaten a decent meal in a week.”

  Chris knew better than to argue the point. He inclined his head slightly. He was glad to have Ana along.

  “I’m going with my aunt,” Carlito said.

  In the distance, one of the Humvees revved up. Chris looked nervously along the road and then back towards Julie. “You take care of them Julie,” he said. “Good luck to all of you.”

  “Fuck it,” Paulie cut in. “I’m going with you. Anywhere but Jersey.”

  “Yeah, count me in, too,” Strangler said.

  “And me,” Julie said. “Might as well tag along. Still think its crazy, though.”

  “I’m with my wife,” Eddy Montague said.

  “I ain’t your wife.”

  “Okay, okay,” Chris said. “Whoever wants to come, I’m happy to have you. Just so you know what you’re letting yourselves in for. I’m going on a hunch here, they might just as easily tear us apart the minute we step out of these trees.”

  “They won’t,” Ruby said. “Not while that signal is being broadcast.”

  That was good enough for him. If anyone would know, it would be Ruby.

  “Right then,” he said. “Follow me, and keep any weapons out of sight. If those Humvees spot us, I want them to think we’re just a couple of Z’s out for a stroll.”

  He stepped off, leaving the comfort of the trees, thinking that maybe Julie
was right after all, maybe he was insane to try this.

  ***

  Joe stopped at the foot of the short flight of stairs leading to the roof. He waited a moment, caught his breath and then got a hand on the banister and clunked his foot down on the first step. As he did, the door at the top of the stairs flew open.

  “I was about to come looking,” Hooley said.

  “Keep your bib on, Rastus. I had to get Kelly and Janet and the kids up to sixteen.”

  “We ain’t leaving?”

  “Kelly wouldn’t budge,” Joe said, shaking his head. He reached the top of the stairs. “What’s up?”

  “I didn’t want to say anything with Kelly in earshot. Best you check it out for yourself.” He hustled across the rooftop with Joe hobbling in his wake, reached the safety barrier and thrust his binoculars in Joe’s direction.

  They had a good view across the frozen sweep of the river, along the greenbelt and onto the Henry Hudson Parkway where the Z’s trundled, packed tightly together like competitors in a bizarre rendition of the New York marathon.

  “What am I looking for?” Joe said, bringing the glasses to his eyes.

  Hooley, didn’t reply. Instead he guided Joe, nudging his arm until his gaze rested on the advancing horde.

  “Yeah so, there’s a bunch of Z’s heading down the road. You called me up here to see that? I already knew...”

  He paused in mid sentence, withdrew the glasses from his eyes and looked at Hooley. Hooley nodded sagely. Joe lifted the glasses again, adjusted the focusing mechanism, zoomed in on a particular cluster. As the scene swam into focus he picked out Chris, then Ana, then Ruby, Carlito and some other people that he didn’t recognize, all of them walking in lockstep with the massed Z’s.

  He focused in on Chris again. “Jesus, Collins, what have you got yourself into this time?” he muttered.

  five

  The column of Z’s trudged forward relentlessly, their feet crunching on the blacktop, the snow long since pounded into an icy sludge by those who’d come before. Chris had worked his way into the midst of them, Ruby to his right, Paulie behind, Z’s on every other side, all of them with their attention firmly on the path ahead. The smell wasn’t as bad as he’d expected, damp rot and old paper rather than the sharper stench of blood and carrion. These were old Z’s, most of them roused from hibernation by the signal they were now following.

  What was worse was the sound they made, that familiar electrical thrum, intensified to a near frenzy as they tuned into the signal they were chasing. It seemed to reverberate to his very marrow, so that he had to fight the urge to bring up his hands and cup them over his ears. Instead, he focused on the staccato rhythm of their footfalls, turning it into a drumbeat that he followed by placing one foot ahead of the other.

  Ruby nudged him, raised her brows to indicate the remains of the barrier wall maybe two hundred yards ahead. He nodded, taking her meaning. Once they were through they’d need to get clear of the mob and work their way through the back streets to the apartment building. He just prayed Kelly would still be there, and safe.

  Two hundred yards to go. As long as the signal held, his gamble will have paid off. If the broadcast was terminated though… He didn’t want to think about that. The signal would hold. It had to.

  six

  Standing on the patio of the St Remo’s penthouse apartment, Justine Goodwillie watched the advancing zombies with a mixture of awe and annoyance. The spectacle before her, the sheer number of the things converging from all directions towards the gap in the wall, was indeed awe-inspiring. She’d been an observer when they’d originally tested this frequency in Santa Barbara. That had been scary, but this…this was biblical, apocalyptic. This was more Z’s than she’d ever seen in one place. Ever!

  Not that it would mean a damn thing unless Benson got here within the next five minutes (which she could already see, he wouldn’t). Where the hell was that clown? Didn’t he understand how crucial timing was to the success of the mission?

  She scanned towards the Wastelands again shading her eyes and berating herself for not bringing binoculars. Then she angled her gaze down onto Central Park West, to the Z’s, just half a block away. She listened for the sound of approaching vehicles. She heard nothing but that dissonant hum transmitted from below, a sound that always reminded her of high-tension electrical cables.

  Well, whether Bobo was here or not, she was killing the broadcast the minute the first Z stopped in front of the building. Let the chips fall where they may. She wasn’t getting her ass chewed off because of his tardiness. Bobo was just going to have to face the shit storm from Pendleton. She’d done her part.

  She started across the patio to fetch the radio, so that she’d have it ready when the time came. That was when she heard the heavy clatter of a 50-mil cannon.

  ***

  Three miles north of the San Remo building, Colonel Bobo Benson was a less- than-happy camper. It was the bridge that had held him up, the goddamn bridge and its snapped cables, canting the road surface towards the south, swaying like a fairground ride, slowing them down to a crawl.

  And now that they’d finally made it across the river into Manhattan there was this shit to contend with, thousands of these fucking things clogging the roads, impeding his progress. Bobo could see his operation spiraling out of control, flushing his promotion down the can with it.

  “Can’t you go any faster,” he growled at his driver.

  “Sorry sir, they’re blocking the road.”

  “Drive over the fucking things then,” Bobo said.

  “Can’t sir, too many of them.”

  “Fuck,” Bobo said. He dropped back into his seat. Why hadn’t those genius planners at Pendleton thought of this one? How was he supposed to get to the RV with the roads looking like the aftermath of a Grateful Dead concert? Not that Pendleton would take any responsibility for this cock up. No sir, this shit storm was going to land firmly on his shoulders, the boot was going to be planted squarely on his black ass.

  He sat simmering for a while longer, watching the Z’s through the windshield while the Humvee crept forward, his general’s star receding with each torturously slow turn of the wheels.

  “Fuck this for a living,” he said eventually. He pressed the catch on his harness, then crawled into the rear of the cab.

  “This fifty primed?” he said to his gunner.

  “Yes sir.”

  “Then step aside son. I’m going to kill me some Z’s.”

  seven

  Chris was forty yards from the barricade when the Humvee opened fire. In one moment he was anticipating the break in the wall, in the next, closely spaced bursts of cannon fire ripped through the air. He spun around and looked directly into Paulie’s terrified face.

  “What the fuck?” Paulie said as another burst of gunfire bounced off the buildings.

  This time Chris saw the damage. A ripple seemed to run through the Z’s at the rear of the column. Chris saw arms and legs torn off, zombies that seemed to implode as they were hit, others catapulted through the air. A Humvee pushed its way through the gap that was forming, the gunner standing up in its firing hatch, angling the gun left and right, picking out targets.

  Chris wasn’t about to wait for the next burst. If they ran now, they might be spotted, if they stayed they were certain to be hit.

  “Follow me,” he said to Paulie. “And keep your head down.”

  He ducked his head, grabbed Ruby by the hand and started working his way through the Z’s who, for their part, seemed oblivious to the violence being wrought against them. They lurched forward relentlessly, blank eyes staring straight ahead, heads tilted towards the mystical frequency only they heard.

  ***

  By the time the first of the Humvees rolled into sight, Justine was ready to flip the switch. The Z’s had ended their southward push and had come to a stop in front of the San Remo, where they now pooled and spilled out into the park and the surrounding streets. The forerunners were alrea
dy in the building. She knew that, had heard the crashing glass and screeching metal as they’d forced themselves into the foyer. Even now the melee continued down there as they fought to get in, to follow the vibration that was calling them onward, upward, towards her.

  She lifted the radio and crooked it in her arm, her finger on the on/off switch, poised to cut the broadcast. Bobo’s convoy was closing on the barricade wall, wending its way through the massed Z’s, firing relentlessly, decimating the Z’s in front of them.

  Why exactly he was doing that, confused her. Why wasn’t he following the mission plan, why wasn’t he taking over the relay, dispersing the Z’s to all corners of Manhattan, as the plan called for? She didn’t know and right now she’d didn’t care. Benson was going to have to figure it out for himself.

  “Nice knowing you, Bobo,” she said, and cut the transmission.

  The effect on the Z’s was instantaneous. For a moment they stopped in their tracks, seemed confused, uncertain. Even the Z hum stopped. Then, like a crowd dispersing from a perceived threat, they suddenly staggered in different directions, moving now with purpose, trampling through the park, through the streets. Justine cast her eyes back towards the barricades, where it looked as though a riot was in progress.

  eight

  The gap in the wall was twenty yards away. Chris could make out the jagged shards of brickwork where the blast had torn the barricade apart. Beyond that, several buildings at the junction of 125th and 7th were smoldering, their lower facades destroyed by the explosion, pallid flame flickering in the ruins. The gap was just fifteen yards away, now twelve. For the first time since they’d been forced out onto the ice, he allowed himself to believe that they might actually make it.