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

by JJ Zep

  “About as alright as a popsicle in the ice-tray,” Joe’s voice came back from under the tarpaulin pulled across the bed. “What’s happening? How far are we?”

  “Just passed through Time Square,” Hooley said.

  “That’s Times Square, peckerwood. Any company out there?”

  “Not a one. About as lively as Pagan on a Saturday night.”

  “Just keep heading south then, towards City Hall.”

  Hooley turned back towards the road, looked left and right as he passed through the intersection with 14th Street. Lights suddenly blazed on in front of him. A couple of Humvees pulled into the road, blocking his path. He eased his foot on the brake, bringing the pickup to a sliding stop on the slick pavement.

  “Y’all sit tight back there,” he said over his shoulder. “Looks like it’s show time on Broadway.”

  ***

  The helicopter had passed overhead at least an hour ago, but still Scolfield wavered. Not that he was afraid or anything, quite the opposite, in fact. He was about as hopped up as a kid tripping on Halloween candy. But this was just too damn exciting to rush. He was determined to savor the moment. He turned the I-Pod over in his hand, musing over it, awed by its power, his power, the power to wield this vast army, this unstoppable weapon, with just the flick of a switch. One small problem though, one that had to be resolved toot suite if this was going to work. In order to pull the Z’s towards City Hall he needed to be transmitting from within the building. That meant he was going to have to send Alex in with the I-Pod and the bitch wasn’t going to like it. She wasn’t going to like it one bit.

  “Are we going to do this or what?” Alex said in her usual snide tone.

  Scolfield turned towards her, proffered her with a smile. He’d quickly grown tired of Alex and her negativity, but he needed her - for now at least. When the time was right he’d cook up something special for old Alex, perhaps keep her human brain alive it a Z body. That might be interesting. But for now, he was sweetness itself. “In a moment, dearest,” he said. “First we need to discuss how you’re going to carry the signal into City Hall.”

  “What!” Alex all but spewed, the color draining from her face. “You didn’t say anything about… I won’t do it. Don’t you understand? I deserted for you. I committed treason. They’ll shoot me on sight.”

  “No they won’t,” Scolfield said. “No one made it back from the Lincoln, no one knows what you’ve done. All you have to say is that you had to escape from the tunnel on foot, that you’ve been working your way back, while trying to avoid the Z’s. Who’s going to say any different?”

  “I won’t do it, Marin. This wasn’t what we agreed.”

  Scolfield looked from the passenger seat towards his co-conspirator. Alex’s face had a pinched look and the paleness of her complexion made the pockmarks on her face stand out like ugly welts. Her jaw jutted defiantly.

  “Fine,” Scolfield said putting up his hands in a gesture of surrender. “I suppose it was a lot to ask of you, and you have every right to refuse. Would you at least give me a ride back to the Lincoln Tunnel?”

  “The Lincoln? Why there?”

  “Well,” Scolfield said, putting on his best, dejected expression. “This whole operation relied on me getting a signal into City Hall. I can’t very well waltz in there myself and I had hoped that you…don’t get me wrong, I fully understand your refusal…I had hoped that I could rely on you. Alas, I’ll have to call the whole thing off now. So, I’ll escape through the Lincoln and disappear into oblivion. I won’t bother you again.”

  He looked through the windshield as he delivered his speech, but studied her reaction in his peripheral vision. Right away he could see that Alex was going to buckle. What else was she going to do? Blow her one shot at glory?

  “Fine,” she said eventually. “I’ll do it.”

  “You will?” Scolfield said, feigning surprise. “Oh thank you Alex, thank you, thank you, thank you.”

  “You just better show me how that device works, because I’m not getting my ass chewed off. Not even for you.”

  “Quite. Of course,” Scolfield said. “I’d never allow that to happen the you. Which is why I designed the SHIELD function. One flick of the switch and no Z can get to within 10 feet of you. Here, allow me to demonstrate.”

  thirty four

  The squat shape looming out of the dark in the middle of the parking lot was a helicopter. Hooley saw that as the Humvee in front of him rolled through the gate. He depressed his foot on the gas and rolled after it, the sentries waving him through. So far Joe Thursday’s crazy plan seemed to be working. Joe had said the soldiers wouldn’t search the truck and they hadn’t. He’d said that the minute Hooley told them he had information about Joe Thursday’s whereabouts, they’d take him directly to Colonel Benson and they were doing just that. He’d guessed right about where they’d set up their HQ too. City Hall loomed before them, lights from the interior spilling through the French windows onto the steps where a couple of sandbagged machinegun nests were installed.

  The lead Humvee came suddenly to a stop, forcing Hooley to stand on the brakes to avoid plowing into the back of it. The doors of the vehicle flew open and spilled four Corporation troopers, who jogged towards him with carbines shouldered. “Out of the truck! Out now!” one of them barked. “Hands where I can see them! Move! Now!”

  Hooley pushed the door open and stepped out as instructed. “Turn and face the truck! Hands behind your head!” Hooley did as he was told and felt a pair of handcuffs fastened on his wrists. He looked into the bed, to the tarpaulin tossed carelessly into the back. Now, he thought, now they’re going to search the truck, now they’re going to find Joe and Ruby. Then they’ll put me up against a wall and shoot me. I’ll never see my Janet again.

  “What’s in the bed, old-timer?” The soldier addressing him wore corporal stripes on his black uniform.

  “The bed?” Hooley said. “Nothin’. Just an old tarpaulin, is all.”

  “Oh yeah? And what’s under the tarpaulin?”

  “Nothin’,” Hooley said, hoping his voice didn’t betray the lie.

  “Nothing, huh?” the corporal said, circling for a better view. “So you wouldn’t mind if I spray the tarp with a couple of rounds, would you?”

  “Be much obliged if you wouldn’t do that,” Hooley said. “Wouldn’t want you scratching the paintwork on this ol’ miss. She’s a classic.”

  “A classic?” the corporal laughed, “Will you get a load of this guy?”

  “Grillo!” another voice cut in, speaking from behind them. “What the hell’s going on?”

  “Just having a bit of fun with this good ol’ boy, Sarge,” Grillo said.

  “Fun?” the sergeant said. “How’d you like to spend some of that fun time pulling extra guard duty?”

  “I wouldn’t like that at all, Sarge.”

  “Bet your sweet ass, you wouldn’t. Now get the prisoner up to the mayor’s office. Wait for me there.”

  “Yes Sarge.” He poked Hooley in the ribs with his rifle barrel. “Let’s go, Pa Clampert,” he said.

  “Oh Grillo?” the Sergeant’s voice called in a mock sing song. “Did you search the truck?”

  “But Sarge…you said…”

  “Just do it.”

  “Yes Sarge.” Grillo turned towards his colleagues, nodded to them. The soldiers stepped forward, each of them grabbing a corner of the tarp. Hooley drew in a breath, did a quick scan of the lot. Was there somewhere he could run, somewhere to hide? Even if he could make some distance without being shot, it wouldn’t take them long to find him. City Hall was tied down tighter than a duck’s behind. There were other fortified positions than the two protecting the entrance, including, as Hooley now saw, a bunker on the roof next to the domed tower. As he looked skyward anticipating his last moments on earth, the gun up there, a 20-mil at least, started firing. He ducked instinctively, dropping behind his pickup. Other automatic weapons joined in and Hooley heard the puff of m
ortars being launched and the detonations beyond. Shouts and screams followed, barked commands, the sound of running feet. And overlaying it all, another sound. It was as though a swarm of angry wasps had been unleashed against City Hall.

  thirty five

  Joe crept across the bed of the truck on his belly, peered from beneath the tarp and then scrambled clumsily to the ground. Ruby followed, somewhat more gracefully, dropping into a crouch. The rattle of machinegun fire was constant now, the pop of small arms, the detonation of grenade and mortar. Joe looked across the parking lot. In front of him, backed up almost to the bed of the Ford, stood a Humvee, its gun swung 90 degrees, firing back towards the perimeter. Other guns, twenty-mils by the sound of them, were firing from positions on the roof. There were more machine gun positions on the steps leading up to the building. These were smaller caliber, maybe 7.62. Even without the electrical jangle of the Z hum it was obvious what they were firing at. City Hall was under attack. Did that mean the frequencies the Corporation was using to hold the Z’s in place had failed? If so, why not just scramble them up? He peered around the truck, looking back out towards the fence, trying to get a handle on what they were up against. At that moment, a mortar round exploded, illuminating the battlefield. Joe blew between his teeth. Jesus! The park out there, in the wedge formed by Broadway and Park Row, was thick with the things. He’d never seen Z’s packed so tightly together. Perhaps back in Lancaster, maybe not even then. Either way, the fence wasn’t going to hold. The soldiers were going to be overrun soon. They had to fall back.

  “Uncle Joe!” Ruby was pointing towards the parking lot where a group of soldiers had just broken from behind the helicopter, Hooley in their midst, that god-awful red plaid parka he insisted on wearing, standing out like a beacon among the black uniforms.

  Joe barely took the time to consider. If they were to stand any chance of survival, they had to get inside. As if on cue a crescendo of screams from the fence told him they’d been breached. The Z’s were in the perimeter. It was now or never.

  “Let’s go!” he shouted to Ruby.

  “No,” she said. “I’m going after my father. You get Hooley and I’ll see you inside.” Before Joe could protest she was sprinting across the lot, throwing herself at the building and scrambling up the brickwork as nimbly as a spider up a web. Joe watched as she pulled herself onto a second floor balcony, then he rose and followed Hooley at a run, ducking his head involuntarily.

  From the rooftop, from the steps, the guns continued to dispense their deadly fire. But they were having hardly any effect as the Z’s continued to surge forward. Joe could make out grotesque shapes in the dark, could hear the tramp of their feet sending tremors through the earth as they rumbled across City Hall Park.

  Hooley was being frog-marched in the midst of the soldiers, just starting to climb the steps. Joe heard a Humvee throttling up and turned to see the vehicle racing into the lot and screeching to a halt. Then a detonation sounded from the front of the building. One minute Joe was standing, the next he was being lifted bodily from the ground and deposited against the hardtop. For a moment he was dazed, the white flash of the explosion still imprinted on his vision. Then a sound reached him, the tramp-tramp-tramp of the approaching Z’s, closer even than he’d imagined.

  thirty six

  Ruby was halfway across the chamber when a dull thud rattled the building. Not a large detonation, but a worrying one nonetheless. What chance did they have of holding the building if the frontage was damaged? What chance did they have anyway?

  She scurried across the room, some sort of large banqueting hall complete with a central chandelier and an ornate ceiling on which the flicker of flame from outside danced and wavered. She moved quickly to the door, opened it a crack and peered into the darkened passage. Nothing was moving out there. She let herself out, jogged to a T-junction and looked left and right. Left led back into darkness, right to a stairway. That direction was vaguely illuminated by light from downstairs. The stairway resonated with shouts, screams, running footfalls.

  Ruby felt a sudden desperate panic well up in her. She had no idea where they might be holding her father, no idea of the layout of the building, no idea where to start looking. Time was running out too, the Z’s were in the perimeter and the guns were not going to hold them much longer. How long did she have? Five minutes, ten if she was lucky.

  “Focus Ruby,” she told herself. “Focus.” She closed her eyes, shut out the sounds of the chaos going on around her, the gunshots and explosions, screams and barked commands, even the underlying Z hum. All of it seemed to fade until she felt as though she were in a vacuum, straining for one familiar voice amongst the pandemonium.

  Then it came, a snippet but unmistakably his voice. “Looks like you’re having a few problems tonight.”

  thirty seven

  “Looks like you’re having a few problems tonight,” Chris said.

  “Nothing we can’t handle,” Justine snorted. She rounded the chair, came up behind him, got a grip on his collar. “On your feet.”

  “What? Now?” Chris said. “Just when we’re getting to the good part?”

  “Don’t mess with me, Chris. I could just as easily leave you to the Z’s. I’d be inclined to do that anyway except you’re wanted back in Pendleton. Don’t make me tell them I had to kill you because you tried to escape.”

  “Gee, Justine, and I thought you liked me.”

  “Don’t take this personal Chris,” Justine said. “But you’re just a prisoner that needs transporting, that’s all. Now, I won’t tell you again. On your feet.”

  Chris lifted himself from the chair into a squat and then straightened his legs, the ankle chains jingling. “Where are we going?”

  “The roof,” Justine said. “The chopper will pick us up there and take us to White Plains. From there you’ll be transported to Pendleton.”

  “For a fair trial, followed by a first class execution?”

  “Something like that. Now move!”

  ***

  The battle was going exactly as he’d hoped. Marin Scolfield peered through the binoculars and scanned from his perch on the fifth floor of the Woolworths Building, across Broadway, across the park from City Hall. Alex’s Humvee had just rolled into the lot, pulling the mass of Z’s with her. He saw her exit the vehicle and make a dash for the stairs, getting there some thirty feet ahead of the Z forerunners. He’d instructed her to get inside the building before switching the I-Pod from PIED PIPER to SHIELD. He was glad that she was obeying his orders. Once inside the Z’s wouldn’t need the PIED PIPER frequency anymore. The smell of fresh meat would be enough to drive them on.

  Something else caught his attention, the helicopter standing in the lot had started up, its rotors just beginning to spin. A smile formed on Scolfield’s lips, a chuckle rattled in his throat. So they were going to try to escape. Well, this was an unexpected bonus. He could just imagine the look on their faces when Bobo Benson turned into a rage zombie in the cramped confines of the chopper. The chuckle bubbled up over his vocal chords and became a booming laugh.

  ***

  Joe staggered to his feet with the sound of the explosion still ringing in his ears. He looked towards the shattered French windows, the destroyed bunkers. A number of dead and dying soldiers lay on the steps, their limbs contorted at improbable angles. What the hell had happened? Had someone dropped a mortar, a grenade?

  His eye was drawn to a patch of red at the bottom of the stairs.

  “Aw Christ, Hooley!” Joe said, barely able even to recognize his own voice. He scuttled forward, fell to his knees beside the cluster of bodies. Two of the soldiers that had formed Hooley’s escort lay on the ground, Hooley’s body pinned under them. Joe pulled the corpses aside, grabbed his friend by the lapels and pulled him into a sitting position. Hooley’s face and upper torso were spattered with blood, his eyes closed, his head lolling. Joe dropped onto one knee and lowered his head to Hooley’s chest. He detected a breath, a strong breath
for that matter. A sigh of relief escaped him. Hooley was some tough old bird and also a lucky one. The stairs had no doubt deflected the bulk of the blast and the soldiers in front had taken the brunt. Hooley had been knocked back, knocked out, but other than cuts and bruises he was probably going to be okay. That is if Joe got them the hell out of here within the next 30 seconds.

  A soldier jogged past him, a woman dressed in a Corporation uniform. “Hey! Hey you! Give me a hand here will you?” The woman paid him no mind as she climbed the stairs in twos.

  “Thanks a mint,” Joe said. He got a hold on the front of Hooley’s jacket, maneuvered his shoulder across Hooley’s chest and hoisted him.

  “OW!” Hooley suddenly cried. “CUT THAT OUT! YOU HAVE TO BE SO ROUGH ON A FELLER!”

  thirty eight

  Ruby wasn’t quite sure how she’d gotten here. The last few minutes had passed in a haze as she’d followed some vague guiding instinct through the labyrinth of corridors. The stretch in front of her now was lit only by the flames reflected from outside. The opposite wall was lined with equally spaced oak doors. One of these rooms held her father, but which?

  She took a few paces, sticking close to the wall, trying to pick up the signal that had guided her here. In the next moment the door to one of the rooms flew open and a man was pushed through. It was her father. Ruby concealed herself in shadow. A woman had stepped out behind Chris. She was holding a pistol to his back, even though he was shackled hand and foot.

  “Make a left,” the woman said and Ruby recognized her. She was Justine, the one who had supposedly saved Kelly. She shoved Chris in the back and he stumbled awkwardly to the left and began shuffling along the passage, walking away from Ruby.