Ground Zero: A Zombie Apocalypse

by Nicholas Ryan

  The whole apartment block was going up in flames, and the heat rising up from the foyer was intense. Paint began to blister on the walls and he heard pounding footsteps behind him, sounding like the maddened beat of a thousand drums. He pushed himself on, driven by fear and panic. The footsteps came closer, became louder, and when he reached the second story landing he turned to see one of the undead staring up at him from the bottom of the stairs. The thing was hideously deformed. Once it had been a man, but now it was a disfigured wraith. It was naked, its body blackened and festering with running sores and open wounds. Its head was grotesquely swollen, and the fire had burned away its hair and eyelids and lips so that all that remained was smoldering melted skin. It hissed at Cutter, and then suddenly vomited thick black bile. Cutter stared in horror. The sickly sweet stench of burning flesh swept over him, mingled with the fetid odor of rotting corruption. Cutter drew the Glock and fired.

  The bullet hit the zombie between the eyes and it was flung backwards down the stairs. It fell into the path of other undead and was crushed beneath their pounding feet.

  Cutter pulled the bookcase across the stairwell as a final barricade. He threw the bottle of thinners over it and set it alight. The sudden wall of heat hit him like a shock wave. He reeled back, the air sucked from his lungs, and the side of his face suddenly stinging hot. For a split-second he thought he had been burned. His vision suddenly clouded, and then he realized it was thick smoke choking up from the ground floor. He went up the final set of stairs holding his breath, and his eyes streaming with tears.

  Samantha was standing at the open fire-door. He saw her as he reached the landing. He ran towards her.

  She was screaming at him. He could see the horror in her face but the roar of the burning building and the demented wail of the pursuing zombies drowned her words out. Cutter felt himself stumbling. He felt his legs becoming leaden. He sensed the wave of ghouls closing in behind him so that the reek of death seemed to hang over his shoulder like an executioner’s axe.

  His feet went from under him. He dropped to his knees and rolled. His hands clawed at the carpet. Then he was suddenly on his feet again, stumbling through the choking smoke, and Samantha was at his side, dragging him by his arm and leading him towards the blue sky and fresh air that waited beyond the fire door.

  Cutter went reeling through the door and hung over the iron railing. His lungs burned. He was coughing and choking. He felt himself swaying with dizzy disorientation. Behind him he heard Samantha grunting. The fire door slammed closed, and she kicked at the handles of the knives to wedge the door shut. Then she snatched at Cutter’s arm and flung him towards the stairs.

  “Come on!” she screamed. “They were right behind you!”

  Cutter stumbled down the narrow fire escape, clinging to the railing, his body still racked with heaving spasms of coughing. His clothes hung from him, drenched with sweat, and there was a pounding pain in his head. He pushed himself on, hearing Samantha’s frantic urging loud in his ears.

  Father Bob was waiting at the bottom landing, and the canvas carry bag was at the man’s feet. He extended the ladder to the ground and pushed Samantha ahead of himself.

  “You go!” Father Bob said.

  Samantha didn’t hesitate. She scrambled towards the ground and leaped the last few yards, landing on her feet.

  “Now you!” Father Bob pushed Cutter in the back. “I’ll drop the bag down to you.”

  Cutter swarmed down the ladder. Behind him he heard a sudden loud crash. He looked up in alarm. There were zombies standing at the top of the fire escape. They saw Samantha and Cutter on the ground and they shrieked in murderous rage.

  “Come on!” Cutter shouted to Father Bob.

  The big man heaved the bag over the railing and Cutter caught it in two hands, the weight of it staggering him backwards. Then he heard the loud crash of a gunshot. Father Bob had drawn the revolver from his coat. He fired three shots at the zombies. One of them sagged against the railing and didn’t move again.

  “Move it!” Cutter screamed. The pastor fired one more shot and then came down the fire escape, his panic making him awkward. When he hit the ground he heaved the ladder back up, and then they turned and ran desperately into the alleyway.

  * * *

  They got ten paces. That was all.

  Then suddenly behind them, Cutter heard a sickening crack of breaking bones and a snarling howl of fury. He spun around. One of the zombies had hurled itself over the fire escape railing. The ghoul had landed face-first on the concrete. Its body was twisted at an impossible angle, but its head rose up from the ground and its hands clawed at him. The zombie’s face had been crushed beyond recognition, but still the malevolent fury blazed in its eyes. Cutter dropped the bag and doubled back. He put a single round into the zombie’s head from point-blank range and then flung himself sideways as a second body plummeted to the ground. It landed just a few feet away; the body of a woman. It landed feet-first, and the crushing impact splintered and fractured every bone in its legs. Thick brown slime spilled across the pavement. Cutter shot the woman between the eyes and dashed back towards the alley.

  They reached the dumpsters that blocked the alley entrance, and Cutter hurled himself at the obstacle, scrambling up onto bags of rubbish until he could see the street beyond. His heart was pounding in his chest and his hands were clammy with fear.

  They had a clear path to the Durango. He helped Samantha over the dumpster and then Father Bob heaved the bag up to him. Cutter passed it down to where Samantha stood and then helped the pastor over the obstacle.

  They dropped to the ground together, crouched against the side wall of the apartment building.

  “You go straight for the car,” Cutter said to Samantha. “Your father and I will cover you. Once you get there, check the back seat, for God’s sake. Thump on the window. They’re drawn to noise. If anything is still inside you will know it. If the car is clear, get in behind the wheel and get it started. Understand?”

  Samantha nodded. She glanced at her father for a brief second and she smiled bravely. Father Bob put his hand on her shoulder and squeezed. He grinned to reassure her. “I’ll be right behind you, honey. Promise.”

  Samantha went across the street doubled over and running as fast as she could. She was light on her feet. Cutter swung the Glock to cover the entrance of the apartment block and Father Bob knelt beside him, sweeping the revolver in an arc to cover the opposite side of the road.

  Samantha got to the Durango and pounded her fist on the windows of the vehicle. She glanced over her shoulder at Cutter – and then flung the driver’s door wide open.

  Cutter waited. His nerves were drawn tight. His eyes flicked away from the entrance of the building to the Durango. He heard the engine whine and then burble to life. Cutter let out a long breath of relief. He thumped Father Bob’s shoulder.

  “Go!” Cutter said. “Take the bag, and get in the back seat. I’ve got you covered.”

  The pastor nodded. He went at a loping shuffle, weighed down by the canvas bag, and as he ran his head swiveled from side to side looking for threats. Cutter followed him with his eyes until the pastor finally reached the car.

  There was blood across the back seats. Father Bob scrambled into the vehicle. A moment later Cutter saw the rear window slide down and the older man’s face appeared, red and gasping. He gave Cutter a ‘thumbs-up’ sign.

  Cutter could hear the Durango’s engine idling steadily over the noise of the burning building. There were still dark shapes milling around the entrance, but the frenzy in them had dulled. They began to wander away from the apartment block in aimless shuffles. Cutter knew that every second he hesitated increased the danger of being discovered. He pushed himself to his feet and sprinted for the Durango.

  It was twenty feet to the car, and another few seconds to get around the hood and into the passenger seat. He went in a hunched jinking run, his eyes fixed on Samantha’s face framed behind the windshield.


  He heard the engine revving as he got closer. His eyes swept the shaded sidewalk on the opposite side of the street. Over his shoulder he heard a sudden loud explosive crash as though the apartment block was collapsing.

  He didn’t look back. He didn’t dare. He noticed Father Bob’s face in the back seat. The man’s eyes were suddenly wide and fearful. Cutter saw him thrust the revolver out through the window aiming past his shoulder. The man was shouting at him but Cutter couldn’t hear. The only sounds were the slap of his boots on the tarmac and the sawing of his breath, deafeningly loud in his ears.

  He reached the hood of the Durango. Felt the warmth of the engine under the bonnet. Spun himself around the grille and his fingers groped desperately for the door handle.

  Then Father Bob fired.

  The blast of the shot was hugely loud – a sound that ripped through the silence on the street. Cutter glanced up. He saw one of the undead running towards the Durango. He flung the car door open and threw himself inside.

  “Go!” he shouted at Samantha. The ghoul was just a few yards away. He heard the pastor fire again and the roar was deafening. The zombie went down in a spinning heap. It collapsed against the trunk of a nearby car and fell slowly to the ground.

  “Go now!” Cutter screamed.

  Samantha tightened her grip on the steering wheel and slammed her foot on the gas pedal. The car leaped forward and she had to wrench the wheel down hard to swing the SUV up onto the sidewalk. Other undead had been drawn from the burning building by the gunfire. A dozen – maybe more – suddenly came snarling at a run from within the fiery building. They had once been men and women and children. Now they were the undead – possessed of nothing but mindless seething rage. Samantha mowed them down, her jaw set in a determined line, her teeth gritted as body after body crashed against the hood and fenders and went reeling away. One of the ghouls leaped onto the car and smashed its head into the windshield. Samantha screamed. The zombie raised its head like a cobra and lunged again. The windshield starred into a sheet of tiny opaque diamonds.

  Samantha spun the wheel hard. There was a bench seat on the sidewalk. The Durango went crashing into it, staving in the driver’s side fender with such a shuddering impact that the undead shape was thrown from the vehicle. Samantha slammed the Durango into reverse and the tires burned blue smoke and rubber. She spun the wheel again, and crashed back onto the street. The corner rushed towards them, just a few seconds more. There was another jarring shudder that seemed to shake the whole car.

  “Cover your eyes,” Cutter shouted, and then punched his fist through the windshield. Chips of glass flew back into Samantha’s face and hair. Cutter punched again until the hole he had made with his fist was enough for Samantha to see through.

  “Now floor it!”

  The intersection was right on top of them and Samantha dragged the wheel over, skidding into the turn, and clipping one of the traffic light poles as the off-side wheels went up onto the sidewalk then crashed down onto solid road again.

  They were on a short narrow side street, and Cutter could see the next turn in the road racing towards them. He wrenched himself around in his seat and stared over his shoulder. A swarm of ghouls were racing after the vehicle, running and snarling.

  “If you slow down for this corner they’ll catch us and we’re all dead,” he told Samantha.

  * * *

  The Durango took the sharp turn at full speed, swinging wide onto the opposite side of the road as the tires squealed in a protest of burning rubber. The vehicle handled like a boat; rolling and swaying as Samantha corrected quickly. A garbage truck filled the windscreen. It had been abandoned. The driver’s side door was open. Samantha stabbed her foot at the brake to bleed off speed and flung the wheel hard over. The Durango clipped the truck’s open door and then veered onto the right side of the road.

  “Slow down,” Cutter said with the sort of calmness in his voice that was entirely forced. “We’re away from them. They’ve stopped chasing.” He reached across and touched one of Samantha’s white-knuckled hands. “Ease off the gas,” he continued to encourage her. “The last thing we want now is to have a collision.”

  The road was four lanes wide – the major artery that led out of the city. Shops lined both sides of the street, but it was the old part of town, and many of them had been abandoned in recent years and attacked by graffiti vandals. Cars were parked up along the curb, and more were strewn across the lanes of traffic – abandoned by their drivers when the terror had struck and people had fled for their lives.

  Samantha slowed until the car was cruising. The street was like an obstacle course, and she veered across all four lanes as trucks, buses and family sedans made their progress into a careful slalom. They were surrounded by death and destruction. A bus was slewed across two lanes. It had crashed into a traffic light. The steel pole had snapped at the point of impact and lay across the road. The bus’s windows were streaked with blood and the emergency exit window at the rear of the vehicle lay shattered on the nearby sidewalk. There were hundreds of cars, all of them deserted. Many of them damaged, or sprayed with gore. Samantha drove cautiously, with her eyes fixed on the road ahead, as though she couldn’t bear to comprehend the devastation that surrounded her.

  They were silent and somber as they drove towards the edge of the city.

  The arterial road branched off in a major intersection, with turns to the north and south, but as they drew closer they realized the corner was littered with more deserted cars. Some of them had been burned out. Several of the vehicles had collided and one had caught ablaze and still smoldered.

  There were bodies too.

  Not many – but enough.

  They lay on the street and on the sidewalk in desperate attitudes of panic and despair. Some lay dead with their bodies flung against walls, or hanging limp and lifeless from the open doors of their vehicles. Others had been crushed. Cutter saw the shapes of two young children, and beside them was the silhouette of a crashed Mazda. The vehicle had mounted the sidewalk and buried itself into the front of a pizza shop – leaving the mangled tiny bodies of the children snagged under its rear tires.

  The morning was still – the silence like a heavy weight that bore down on them – as they drove past one horror and then discovered another, until the tragedy and the despair crushed their spirit and left them grim-faced and desolate.

  In the back seat, Cutter heard father Bob muttering prayers for the dead, whilst beside him Samantha wept silent tears. Cutter clenched his jaw and stared ahead through the shattered windshield, clamping down on his despair – because it was the only way he could deal with the horror and still go on.

  They reached the intersection and Samantha slowed the SUV to a crawl. “We want to go north,” Cutter said. The intersection was jammed solid. Samantha stopped the car.

  “How?” she asked. She leaned forward and stared through the shattered glass. There was a bus stopped at an angle across the intersection and behind it a cab that had flipped and rolled onto its side wedged against the crushed shape of an old pick up. Behind the carnage were more vehicles in every lane and others that had been abandoned on the median strip as drivers had sought to find a desperate way through the traffic before forsaking their cars altogether.

  “The sidewalk,” Cutter pointed.

  There was an electrical store on the corner. It was a two-story brick building. The glass shop front windows had been smashed and Cutter could see a slumped body. The store had been looted. Out front was a traffic sign, showing distances to the surrounding suburbs. Cutter nodded. “Run it down.”

  Samantha glanced at him and trapped her lip between her teeth.

  “Are you serious?”

  Cutter nodded. “It’s the only way.”

  “You want me to mount the sidewalk and crash through the sign?”

  “Yes.” Cutter said. “Because if we can’t get through this intersection we can’t reach Eden Gardens.”

  Still Samantha hesitated.
“There might be another way… Another turnoff that would be easier.”

  “There is no easy way,” Cutter insisted. “This is the only way.”

  Samantha backed the SUV up and revved the engine. The noise in the silence was unusually loud. Rats scurried away from the bodies they were devouring and dark shaped crows took to sudden raucous flight.

  Samantha slipped the car into gear and crushed the gas pedal under her foot.

  The Durango leaped forward, gathering speed quickly. It mounted the curb with a sudden jarring thump that flung them forward in their seats. Samantha’s arms on the wheel were locked. The car bucked wildly, bouncing high and hard on its springs, then settled back onto all four wheels. A split second later the traffic sign filled her vision and she turned her head away instinctively and closed her eyes.

  “Brace yourself!” Cutter shouted.

  The Durango slammed into the sign and the metal post buckled before the vehicle’s momentum. The car went up and over, and the rending crashing sound was a hugely loud explosion in their ears. The vehicle jolted and tilted, then righted itself. A second later the car crashed back down off the sidewalk and swerved onto the road – heading north – with the choked intersection suddenly behind them.

  Samantha let out a breath she had been holding. Cutter heard Father Bob sigh his relief. Cutter turned round in his seat and stared through the rear window of the SUV. Dark wandering shapes were emerging onto the road, spilling from the buildings around the intersection but disappearing into the distance quickly. Cutter allowed himself the luxury of a moment’s relief. The undead were slow-moving, and the car was hurtling north – approaching leafy tree-lined inner-city suburbs.

  They were safely through the intersection.

  They were safely out of the city.

  They were on their way to Eden Gardens.

  And then the car broke down.

  * * *