Zombie Revolution

by Emily Allison

  “That was close.” Damon muttered while he put his arm across the bench seat, looked over his shoulder and out the truck into reverse. Metal scrapped, which made Chloe cover her ears.

  “What are we gonna do now?” Chloe peered at the pile of twisted metal with sadness. Damon maneuvered his truck around the pile and into the median. The pre-teen was tossed from side to side as the truck rolled across the bumpy terrain. She watched as they passed the cars and returned onto the interstate. They both breathed a sigh of relief when the road was once again clear in front of them.

  Chapter 9

  As they drove, dark clouds trundled over the mountains and Interstate 70. Chloe looked up into the storm clouds to see lightening streak across the blackish purple sky. She felt rain drops against her arm. At first it was refreshing to feel the cool sensation of the water on her bare skin, but soon the rain came down harder. The drops stung her flesh. More water came in through the broken window, “Umm…Damon. The rain is coming inside.”

  “I think there is towel in the back.” Damon pointed to the back seat. Chloe tucked the towel up into the handle bar and around the seatbelt to create a makeshift cover for the window. The cold rain still seeped into the truck, so the pre-teen lifted up the center console and moved closer to Damon, but she made sure that she was not touching him. The massive cumulonimbus grew darker and more menacing as they drove; it was the first time Damon worried about something other than zombies. Thunder rumbled deep through the air and into their chests. Chloe shivered. Even before the zombies came the tween was afraid of storms, now the feeling was worse without her parents. There was something about the thunder and wind that made her feel so vulnerable and alone. Then she felt a strong hand pat her shoulder. “It’s just a little thunderstorm.” Damon tried to reassure her. “Nottin’ to worry about.” He could not remember if there were ever tornados in Colorado.

  Blasts of wind pushed the truck all over the lanes of the interstate. Damon had to keep both hands on the wheel to force the Silverado to stay on the road. Through the furious drops of rain Damon saw the sign for Denver. He wanted to avoid all the big cities. Big cities meant a lot of zombies. He had fears of being trapped in a traffic jam with thousands upon thousands of zombies wanting to tear him apart. He could only hope for the best, and that the storm would provide cover for them as they made their way through the city. The truck splashed through flooded potholes as they entered the city limits. “Here we go…”

  Tall burned out office buildings lined the freeway and rose up into the billowing storm clouds. Windows and doors were busted out of almost every building Damon saw. One particular building was reduced to a heaping pile of metal, glass and concrete. It looked as if Denver had been bombed during the previous months. The fires had long since burned out, but the devastation was long lasting. Damon gaped at this mess, and then swerved narrowly avoiding a mutilated motorcycle. Debris filled the street below. It was then he saw the dead. They trudged through the drowned downtown streets. Heads lolled from side to side with hazy eyes staring blankly at nothing. The sight was truly frightening. There were so many of them. Damon figured there had to be at least two thousand or more. He felt Chloe stir. “Don’t look.” He still could hear the chorus of moans over the torrents pounding rain. He forgot that telling someone not to look meant the complete opposite.

  Chloe sat up in the seat next to Damon. “Why? What is it?” She looked out the window to see the horde below the overpass. The little girl shivered.

  “I don’t think they noticed us.” He remembered his cat nap. “Can’t be sure though.”

  Chloe gazed up at him with terrified green eyes. “I hope not. That’s more zombies than I’ve seen before.” “Me too.” Damon patted her head uncomfortably. “Just stay away from the window.” He navigated his way through the abandoned cars and debris on the freeway. He had to put the truck into four wheel drive to push a few cars out of the way. To Damon’s surprise they did not encounter any zombies on the freeway that slingshot around the city. Soon they were out of the city limits. They both sighed with relief. The weather had provided the necessary cover to get them out of the city unnoticed, or so he thought was unnoticed. Damon checked the rearview to see if they were being followed. He really had no way knowing because the zombies were so slow.

  “Good riddance.” Chloe said to the rear window and plopped back on the cloth seat. “Are we there yet?” She asked impatiently. Damon had only visited his brother a few times since he had moved to the middle of nowhere but remembered the way. “After we get by the town of Vail we exit off the interstate and hit a county road up into the mountains and hopefully my brother’s house is still there.”

  “I hope so too,” was all that she said. The storm continued to rage until they entered the mountains. The wind died, and the clouds started to part to let rays of light shine down on the black truck. Damon’s mood lightened as they drove through the Rockies. Chloe spied thin rainbows that arched over them from peak to peak. Before they knew it they saw a sign for Vail. It was then Damon’s mood turned as dark as the once stormy clouds.

  The road ran into a military roadblock. A green armored Humvee was parked behind the cement barriers with its doors opened wide. Dried blood was smeared down side leading to the body of soldier. Damon stopped the truck. “I don’t like this…” He said aloud. The only way open was a broken road that led directly into downtown. He did not bother to wait to see if there was anyone else out there. The dead solider draped over the cement barrier was proof enough. The military was dead. That much was obvious. They listened for a few long seconds. It was strange. There were no sounds, complete and utter silence. Even the evergreen trees that surrounded them were silent. They just loomed over the two isolating them from the rest of the world. Damon wondered what the trees would tell him if they could talk. “Well I guess we have to go through town.” Damon shifted the truck into drive and rolled down the broken pavement into the once famous ski resort town. Damon’s eyes darted back and forth trying to take in as much as possible. He wanted to avoid the resort, but he hoped since it was only summer there wouldn’t be very many zombies. He couldn’t shake the feeling that something wasn’t right. “Chloe get the supplies together and get down.”

  Chloe opened her mouth to protest, but there was something about his voice that made her shut her mouth and obeyed. He heard the tween in the back seat shuffling through the duffle bag and the brightly colored suitcase. He heard her mumble ‘ooooo….pretty.’ It only took her a minute to gather what little supplies they had. She stuffed the photo albums, water and weapons into the black duffle bag. She took some of the clothes that Damon had packed in the brightly colored suitcase and put them in the bag, and then slipped her purple bag onto her back. The tween crouched onto the hot floorboards. Damon made sure his pistol was in his lap and the machete was attached to his hip. The truck emerged from the mountains into the town of Vail. The scene was much like the other cities they had passed. The tall medieval style homes were burned and empty. Black scorch marks were painted up the once white stucco exterior. It was not the burned out buildings or vacant cars that really got his attention, it was all the bodies. Hundreds of bodies littered the streets, some of which had been there a long time. There was a body sprawled over the hood of a yellow car with chunks of flesh for a head. A body hung lifeless out the broken window of a souvenir shop with a gunshot wound too. Damon saw wildlife for the first time since he had left his home in Arkansas. Buzzards picked the bones clean. The black birds scattered when the truck rolled by. To Damon’s surprise none of the bodies struggled to their feet and tried to eat them. The smell was bad too. Damon wished like hell the passenger window was still intact. A feeling of dread knotted in his stomach. Where was the military? What happened to all these people?

  Just then Damon heard what sounded like popcorn popping, only something far deadlier. “Shit!” “What’s happening?” Chloe shrieked; her voice was muffled because her face was buried in the floor mat with her
hands pressed over her ears.

  Damon slammed on the gas just as his window exploded into a thousand glittering pieces. “Someone’s shooting at us! Stay down!” The truck surged down the street. More automatic gunfire followed them. Damon felt the white hot pain surge through his left shoulder when a bullet cut through it. His body slumped towards the steering wheel causing it to jerk. Damon over corrected with his good arm and lost control of the Silverado. The shining black truck collided into the corner of a brick building taking out half of the wall. The bricks pommeled the truck as they disappeared into a cloud of dust. Chloe’s side of the truck was inside what looked like a ski shop. Damon tried to put the truck into reverse. Nothing happened. The truck would not move, and they were sitting ducks in their current position. “Move now!” He ordered Chloe out of the truck. He snatched the pistol off the floorboard, and crawled across the bench seat with his shoulder screaming in pain with every move. He tumbled out of the truck and into the shop just as the back window was turned into glass confetti.

  With the duffle bag slung across his good shoulder, machete hanging from his belt, pistol in hand and blood running down his arm Damon looked like a hero from an action movie during the climax. He was forced to leave the brightly colored suitcase with most of his clothes. There weren’t enough hands or time. He guided Chloe through the dust cloud and deeper into the ski shop who nearly tripped over every ski that was thrown to the floor. They had to move fast. It would not be long before whoever was shooting would come looking for them. Thankfully, the truck and demolition work had provided them cover. Damon thought frantically how to get him and Chloe out of Vail safely. They both moved through the debris to the back of the shop where there was a door labeled Exit. He slowly opened it and peeked out the metal doorframe. The door led them to a narrow alley lined with dumpsters. They both ducked behind the large green dumpster closest to them. If it had not been for the people shooting at them or the excruciating pain in his shoulder, he would have commented on how bad the thing smelled. Damon held his breath and listened. The shooting had stopped. It seemed that they had lost whoever the hell was after them for the moment. He motioned for Chloe to move towards another door that opened up into the same alley. The pre-teen dashed for it without hesitation. The fear in her eyes nipped at her heels. Damon sprinted after her.

  “It’s locked.” She whispered, Damon tried for himself. She wasn’t lying. He cursed the door when it did not budge. Voices echoed down the alley as the shooters passed by. Damon pressed his body into Chloe’s to keep them as close to the metal door as possible. His parental instincts were kicking into high gear. “They musta went this way.” The voice was raspy and gruff. Beads of sweat started to form on the mechanic’s forehead.

  Damon clenched his eyes shut. Please. I’m so close. He was stunned that it would be someone or something other than zombies standing in the way of him being reunited with his brother. This is crazy. The last few days of his life passed by like mere seconds. The voices lingered by the opening of the alley for only a moment longer. Something caught their attention. They turned and ran down the main street. Damon studied his surroundings. Just then, he spied an open window just above their heads. He dropped his voice so slow he barely could hear himself speak. “Do you think if I lift you up you can get through that window and unlock the door?”

  The tween put her hand on her hip and popped it out to the side. “Of course.” Damon struggled to lift her to his shoulders because of his bum arm but managed to get her high enough to where she could wriggle onto his shoulders. She easily balanced on his shoulders as she opened the window further. Her Hannah Montana shirt was entirely covered with dirt now. The coast was clear, and she hoisted herself the rest of the way. Damon saw the purple backpack disappear through the dark window. He started to feel a little woozy and looked down at his white shirt and jeans. They were stained by all the blood he had lost. Minutes ticked by. What was taking Chloe? He was beginning to think that he should have gone himself, but then he heard the lock on the other side of the door.

  The metal door squeaked opened and Chloe appeared. “What’s the password?” “Stop messing around.” Damon grumbled. He pushed passed her and stepped into a pub. Dusty light seeped between the closed shades casting white stripes across the smooth concrete floor. After allowing his eyes to adjust to the low light, he immediately went to work. He grabbed a bottle of Jack Daniels from behind the bar, a stirring stick and a bar rag.

  “What are you doing?” Chloe locked the door behind them and moved towards Damon making sure not to stumble on the overturned bar stools.

  He plopped down behind the bar. “I need to get the bullet out of my arm and stop the bleeding otherwise it won’t be the zombies or shooters that will kill me.” He ripped off of his shirt. His chiseled pectorals and left arm were painted in dark red blood. “Now stay down and be quiet.” He hissed.

  Chloe made a face but did as she was told. She sat on her knees next to him and pulled her gun from her glitter covered purple bag. “My dad gave me this gun when the zombies came.” She whispered. Damon had a feeling she wanted to say something more by the way she hung onto the words.

  Damon grunted. He was using the stirring stick to fish out the bullet. The pain caused him to feel dizzy, and his eyes rolled back in his head like he was about to pass out. He leaned back against the sturdy bar. He was having trouble finding the bullet. The thing was deeper than he thought.

  “Let me help you.” Chloe whispered. She plucked the stick from Damon’s hand before he could protest. The metallic smell of blood filled her nose as she very carefully fished into the circular laceration with the pink stick. After a minute she picked the bullet out of his bleeding flesh. The bullet bounced onto the cold floor with a ping. “Now this is gonna hurt.” She grabbed the bottle of whiskey and dumped the brown liquid into the wound. Damon groaned and gripped the leg of a barstool so hard that it snapped like a twig. The sting surged through his body. Chloe dabbed the wound with the bar rag and wrapped the old shirt around his bicep. “There.” She smiled. “Good as new.”

  “Thanks…” Damon whispered. They sat there for a moment on the dirty pub floor in silence. He was still feeling weak, but he knew they had to move. He struggled to his feet, using the bar to steady himself. He grabbed a new shirt and some water from the duffel bag. He handed the bottle to Chloe, and then he took a long pull from the whiskey bottle. “We have to move. We need to find a car.” Damon carefully slid on the gray Grateful Dead shirt only wincing when he had to maneuver his left arm into it. He could only hope this was the worst of his journey, but his gut told him he wasn’t that lucky.

  Chapter 10

  Damon watched outside the bar window. “Let’s go.” The two dashed out of the bar and into another alley across the street. They made their way through various buildings checking every vehicle that still had keys in it. Even though Damon was a mechanic in a previous life, he did not know how to hot wire a vehicle…a skill that he would definitely acquire if they survived this. After checking more cars than Chloe could count, they stumbled upon an orange Volkswagen Beetle parked on a side street. Damon tossed the duffle bag into the back seat. “Get in.” The pre-teen climbed into the small car still clutching her small pistol. Damon had one leg in the car when he felt the barrel of a gun press into the back of his head.

  “Don’t fucking move.” A raspy voice warned. “Get out of the car or I will blow your damn head off.” It was the same voice Damon heard from behind the dumpster.

  Damon thought frantically. His breath quickened. He knew the man was going to kill them both. He could feel the adrenaline pumping. Using every ounce of his strength he whirled around and knocked the gun from the man’s hands. Damon was facing down a United States Marine with buzzed hair and wild dark eyes. The man stood at least a head taller than him. The left side of his face was dotted with tiny craters. Damon pulled his pistol only to have it kicked out of his hand by the marine. He received a vicious punch to the face. Prob
ably breaking Damon’s nose, but he was not sure. Damon football tackled the marine to the rocky pavement and released all the rage and stress he was feeling onto the marine’s face. He ignored the agonizing pain in his body and continued his assault.

  A gun shot was fired. Damon looked up to see Chloe pointing her gun at the marine. “Leave us alone!” She demanded. “Or I will put a bullet in your ugly face!”

  Damon got off the marine and limped over to Chloe. The marine stood and looked at her with his bloody face. His right cheek and nose were swollen and purple. He sneered. “You don’t scare me little girl.” He taunted. “You better put that away before you hurt yourself.”

  The marine took a step towards them. The girl fired a shot that whizzed past his ear. Damon and Chloe backed up to the car. “Let us go.” Damon rasped. “We mean nothing to you.”

  “Little bitch.” He sneered. “Easy Jackson,” said another voice coming from above them. “You’re right though young man. You don’t mean anything to me or Jackson here, but you do mean something to the General.”

  The marine known as Jackson glared up into the window at the other marine menacingly. Damon could see that Jackson wanted nothing more than to smash his skull in.

  Damon and Chloe followed the marine’s gaze up to see that they were surrounded by five other marines all armed with assault rifles. If Damon remembered correctly they were M16s, a standard issue for the United States Marine Corp. At one time Damon thought he wanted to be one. Chloe dropped the gun and hugged Damon’s waist. He put a protective arm around her. The marines closed in on them. The next thing they knew they were being ushered into a white cargo van. The mechanic lashed out when the marines harshly pushed Chloe onto the metal floor. The teenager rubbed her bleeding knee but refused to cry out. His gun and machete were gone left at the car. It was strange to Damon that the marines did not blindfold them as they drove. This was another thing that made him nervous. In the movies Damon and Chloe would have been bagged and left wondering where they were headed. Usually, when the people got to see the faces of the assailants they did not live very long. He took advantage of the situation and paid very close attention to which roads they took. The van turned left onto West Meadow Drive and then right onto Vail Road. They pulled to a stop in front of a towering old church. The white siding was in desperate need of a new paint job. The decrepit lead paint was peeling in more than one place. The once stunning stained glass windows were boarded up creating a foreboding aura. Damon looked up to see that the bell tower had been transformed into a military guard post equipped with a .50 caliber turret aiming down at him and Chloe.