***
When they rounded the last corner on the trail, Megan did a double take. Archie had moved from his safe perch on the ledge down to the hood of the truck. He had the binoculars up and was focused intently on something in the desert in the direction of the canyon mouth.
After sharing a concerned glance with Jack, she broke into a trot, quickly covering the twenty yards between the edge of the forest and the truck. “Is everything okay?” she asked as she reached Archie’s side.
Archie jumped at the sound of her voice, and his rifle slid off his lap and clattered onto the hood with a hollow clang. Megan caught the weapon before it could roll to the ground and handed it back to him.
“Don’t do that!” Archie snapped. “You damn near gave me a heart attack!”
“Sorry.” She tilted her head in the direction Archie had been staring and gave him a pointed look.
Archie removed the binoculars from around his neck and offered them to her. “See for yourself.”
Megan unslung her pack and dropped it to the ground. She took the binoculars and placed them to her eyes. The image was a blurry mess. She adjusted the focus knob, and the image snapped into stark clarity. “Shit! Where’d they come from?”
“What is it?” Jack asked.
“Trouble.” She swept the binoculars across the valley, trying to estimate how many zombies were there. The creatures were everywhere she looked, staggering along in lockstep as if on some sort of forced march. She passed the binoculars to Jack and turned to Archie. “Where the hell did they come from? Why didn’t you call?”
Archie’s face flushed, and his gaze fell to his feet. “Things were quiet. I… uh… I took a little nap. When I woke up, they were out there. I was about to call, but you came back.” He pointed at the radio sitting on the hood beside him. “They only showed up a few minutes ago.”
The radio in the truck shrieked. Jack reached through the window and grabbed the handset. He listened, then said, “Come again?” with a quizzical expression.
Megan moved closer so she could hear better. “Try again,” she said.
Jack shrugged and thumbed the transmit button. “Steve? This is Jack. Is everything okay over there?”
No response.
“Must have been an accident—” Archie started.
The radio let out another sharp burst of static, cutting him off. Steve’s terrified voice came screaming over the airwaves. “They’re through! They’re inside the gate!”
Inside the gate? What the hell? Megan tore the radio from Jack’s grasp. “What do you mean inside?”
“There are too many of them!” Steve yelled. “They’re everywhere!” The sharp rattle of automatic weapons fire threatened to drown out his voice.
Megan felt sick to her stomach. “Steve! Talk to me! I need to know what’s happening!”
“We need to get over there,” Jack yelled, pulling open the truck door and sliding behind the wheel. “Get your stuff!”
Megan shook her head and held up a finger. “Wait. I want to—”
Steve transmitted again. “Oh, my God! They’re right outside!”
Megan slammed her fist against the roof of the truck and cursed. With Tucson and all of its hazards between them and Scorpion Canyon, it would take at least an hour, maybe two, to pick their way home. That was too long. Steve was on his own, whether she liked it or not.
She tried to think, to come up with a plan that would allow them to delay the inevitable. She keyed the radio. “Can you get everyone into the old mine?” The mine, halfway up the canyon, had more than enough room for the entire population of the camp, though moving everyone there under the face of a zombie invasion would be a logistical nightmare.
“It’s too late,” Steve said, his voice full of defeat. “There are too many…” A pistol shot echoed through the radio, followed by silence.
“Steve!” Megan shouted. “Steve! Come in!”
She looked at Jack, then at Archie. Panic wrapped its icy fingers around her heart. She stared at the radio in her hand, seeing not a piece of useful military hardware, but a vicious animal intent upon taking her life. “Steve!”
There was no response. He was gone.
Seven
Franklin Compound
Arivaca, Arizona
By the time Ryan got inside, Luke was already at ground level, his gun trained on the door, his face a grim mask of determination.
“Quick! Help me with this!” Ryan bellowed as a corpse slammed against the other side of the door.
Luke slung his gun over his shoulder and dashed over. Ryan leaned against the door, and Luke slid the heavy wooden crossbar into place. Ryan threw the deadbolts before stopping to catch his breath.
On the other side of the door, the undead raged, the fury of their assault rattling the door in its frame. Their putrescent stench wafted through the cracks around the edge, filling the small room and making Ryan sick to his stomach. Their moans drowned out all thought, a dull roar worming its way into his skull like a dentist’s drill.
Ryan pointed at the door to the bunker. “Downstairs! Now!”
Luke didn’t need to be told twice. His fingers flew over the keypad, and the door snapped open.
A minute later, they piled through the bottom door and into the main living quarters. As Ryan slammed the door behind him, the wail of the creatures on the surface subsided to a distant whine.
He put his hand on Luke’s shoulder and squeezed. “Are you okay?”
Luke was shaking uncontrollably, his teeth chattering as though he had just taken a dip in ice-cold water. He tried to say something, but it came out in a slurred stutter.
Paige flew into the room and dropped to a knee in front of her son. “Luke. Talk to me.”
“I-I’m… okay. I-I think,” Luke stammered.
Paige gave Ryan an accusatory glare. “What happened up there? I heard shooting! What did you do to him?”
Ryan’s vision dimmed, and he leaned against the wall.
“Ryan?” Paige’s anger turned to concern.
He shook his head slowly. Painfully. “We… we screwed up. Jim—”
Paige’s hand flew to her mouth. She had become close with Felecia, mostly out of necessity, as they were the only living women for miles. They spoke frequently on the radio and occasionally visited each other in their respective bunkers. “Oh, no!”
“It gets worse,” Ryan said, pulling away from the wall. “He went back into his bunker afterward. I… I couldn’t stop him.”
“I need to call Felecia,” Paige said, grabbing for his radio.
Ryan put his hand over the handset on his hip and shook his head. “It’s too late.”
“But—”
“He got bit on the neck.”
The color drained from her face. “His family…” Her hand went to her chest, and she looked as if she was about to faint.
Ryan put a hand out to steady her. “I’m sorry.” He sucked in a breath. “But that’s not all—”
He motioned for them to follow him into the living room. Paige sat beside him on the couch. He took her hand in his. Luke settled into an overstuffed beanbag.
Taking care not to leave anything out, Ryan recapped the events on the surface, beginning with his initial attack and finishing off with his mad dash for the safety of the bunker. He left nothing out, describing in excruciating detail the mistakes they had made, and how those errors in judgment had cost Jim and his family their lives, and almost Ryan’s own.
“I’m sorry, Dad,” Luke said at one point. “I shouldn’t have started shooting.”
Ryan wanted to be angry, but he was too grateful to be alive to hold on to the emotion. “It’s okay,” he said in a measured tone. He gave Paige a pointed look. He would have words with her later about why she had allowed Luke to leave her side.
“So what now?” Paige asked, her voice quavering.
Ryan slumped into the couch, defeat clawing at his will to continue. “There are too many of them. There�
��s no way… we have to go.”
Paige leaned in closer. “I’m sorry. Did you say we have to go?”
Ryan nodded and met her eyes. “Yeah. That’s exactly what I said. There are too many, and there are a lot more coming. There’s no way we can outlast them.”
“But where are we going to go?” Luke asked, worry lines creasing his forehead.
“I don’t know,” Ryan muttered. “East. Away from here.”
“Can’t we ride it out?” Paige asked, her voice rising. “Won’t they give up eventually?”
Ryan didn’t answer. Paige knew full well how the undead acted when they sensed food. And right then, his family was the food. He slid to the edge of the couch and struggled to his feet. “The Suburban is already loaded with food and fuel. Grab your bags and whatever you can’t bear to leave behind. We don’t have much time. I’m… uh… going to go double-check everything.” With a final look around his home, he turned and set off for the far end of the bunker and the access hatch to the garage on the surface.
“But…” Paige pleaded. “Can’t we—”
Ryan looked back over his shoulder. “I’m sorry. We don’t have any choice.” As he turned back toward the garage, he heard her sob, and not for the first time that day, he felt himself die a little inside.
***
Fifteen minutes later, Ryan and his family were on the surface, sitting inside the Suburban. The engine was off, and the garage door was closed. The keys were in the ignition. Built into a low hillside, the garage had dirt on three sides and on the roof. The incessant roar of the creatures made it almost impossible to think.
Ryan put a hand on Paige’s knee and forced a smile onto his face. The frown he got back told him she wasn’t buying it, that she could see right through his attempt. “Buckle up,” he said. “We’re getting out of here.”
Their seat belts clicked home like gunshots on a still day. Ryan took the remote control from the dashboard. Like the security system inside the house, the garage received all its power from the solar array. He hadn’t checked the mechanics of the door mechanism recently, and he hoped—no, prayed—it would work on the first try. His nightmare scenario was the door only opening partway, enough for the undead to crawl underneath and trap them where they sat. He didn’t know what he feared more: starving to death in the underground bunker or dying in the front seat of his truck.
He turned the key to the first position and watched the needle on the fuel gauge swing to full. The battery meter showed full, courtesy of the trickle charger he had always kept attached. On a long wooden shelf beside the door, he spied a crate of cigarettes. Originally stockpiled to use as barter with the other inhabitants of the compound, they were useless, one more wasted artifact of a dead civilization and yet another reminder of how truly unprepared he had been.
“Brace yourselves,” he said through gritted teeth. Looking in the mirror, he saw Luke tighten his grip on the back of Paige’s seat. “This is going to be ugly.”
Ryan held his breath and turned the key the rest of the way. For a split-second, it seemed the truck wouldn’t start, but then it roared to life. The motor sounded like a jet engine in the enclosed space. The noise drowned out the cries of the undead.
He exchanged a quick glance with Paige. She gave him a slight nod, the signal of encouragement he so desperately needed. He pressed the button on the remote and slipped the truck into drive. His foot remained on the brake.
The garage door rattled and shook like something alive as it trundled up on its tracks. Ryan leaned over the wheel, trying to see out, and when the door finally cleared the hood of the Suburban, he let out a gasp. The entire population of undead in the courtyard had turned from his door and were lurching and staggering in their direction.
“Ryan!” Paige shrieked. “Watch out!”
A lone one-armed corpse appeared at the edge of the garage and slipped through the door. It launched itself at the hood of the truck, the broken nails of its remaining hand scrabbling for purchase on the cool metal as it fumbled its way toward the driver’s side.
Ryan lifted his foot from the brake and jammed the gas pedal to the floor. With tires squealing on polished concrete, the truck rocketed from the garage. The zombie at the hood disappeared, and the truck bounced wildly as the wheels crushed the corpse into the packed desert soil. Ryan gave the brakes a light tap to maintain control and spun the wheel sharply to the right, angling the Suburban away from the courtyard and toward the unmaintained dirt road that would eventually take them to Arivaca Road, three miles to the north.
Stealing a glance in the rearview mirror, he saw Luke craning his neck to survey their surroundings. It was the first time since the uprising any of them had been outside of the compound, and Ryan was sure that to his son, everything looked new and exciting, despite their predicament.
A pair of zombies appeared from behind a drooping cluster of cholla cacti. Ryan sped up, sending the monsters to the same fate as the creature in the garage. The vehicle reached the dirt road a few seconds later.
“Ryan. Look!” Paige pointed at the western horizon.
Ryan did and immediately wished he hadn’t. What had looked like a far-off horde from the tower less than an hour before had grown to something beyond comprehension. Zombies blanketed the landscape.
“Do you see them?” Paige asked, her voice a warbling shriek. “Where did they come from?”
Ryan swallowed and focused on driving. “I wish I knew.” He didn’t really care where they came from, only that they were in his rear-view mirror.
Filled with grim resolve, he increased the pressure on the accelerator.
Eight
Madera Canyon
South of Tucson, Arizona
The nearly bald tires of the National Park Service pickup squealed in protest as Jack took the first corner at twenty-five miles an hour above the posted speed limit. Megan cringed when she heard the sound of denim sliding against vinyl on the seat behind her, then felt her window shake in its frame as Archie crashed against her side of the truck. He let out a yelp of pain.
“Sorry,” Jack muttered as he straightened the wheel and jammed down on the gas.
Megan saw a flash of movement ahead, on the opposite side of the road. “Look out!”
A pack of zombies stumbled from the brush, lurching directly into the path of the truck. The first creature disappeared under the left front wheel with a thump, sending the truck bucking violently into the air. Megan flew from her seat and smashed into the headliner. Stars exploded in her vision. Archie screamed. Jack spat a foul curse.
The engine roared, and before Megan had a chance to process what was happening, they plowed into the rest of the cluster. Corpses exploded around them like festering piñatas. Blood, black as night, sprayed across the dusty white hood in viscous fountains of gore. Writhing fragments, diseased body parts long past their expiration date, hammered the dented and battered sheet metal. Through tears of pain, Megan watched in horror as a decapitated head smashed into the windshield directly in front of her, blasting a starry crater into the glass before sailing away over the roof.
The steering wheel spun loose from Jack’s grip, turning in a blur. The truck shook like it was coming apart. Oh shit! This is it!
Her stomach leaped into her throat as they left the roadway and sailed into the desert. A second later, gravity reasserted its iron grip, and they came crashing down with a thunderous Bang! The truck sank on its springs with the impact before rebounding and once again sending Megan slamming against the roof. She howled in pain and almost blacked out.
Then they were hurtling across a smooth plain littered with towering stands of prickly pear, cholla cactus, and the occasional majestic saguaro. Plant matter burst against the front end of the truck much as the zombies had, the frequency of the impacts multiplying as the vehicle plowed deeper and deeper into the cactus forest.
The truck fishtailed as Jack slammed on the brakes, and Megan reflexively threw her hands toward the dash. He
r seat folded forward as Archie hammered her from behind.
They skidded to a stop in a billowing cloud of dust, the wrinkled skeleton of a long dead saguaro cactus towering over them. The engine rattled once. Twice. Then fell silent.
Megan took stock of herself. She wiggled her toes, then her fingers. She coughed and rubbed at the line on her chest where the seatbelt had sliced deep into the soft flesh above and between her breasts. She stole a glance at Jack. He sat hunched over the wheel, rubbing his forehead. A steady gush of blood poured from his mouth, spilling into his crotch.
She reached out with alarm. “You okay?”
He looked at her with a pained grimace. Through the blood, she saw he had bitten clean through his lip. He was hurt, but she figured he would be all right.
“Archie! Are you okay?” Megan found her seatbelt buckle and yanked it open. She twisted so she could see into the rear seat.
Archie answered with a groan and Jack’s seat rocked backward as a liver-spotted hand grasped the headrest and pulled. “Remind me never to ride with you again,” the old man said, rubbing at his shoulder as he slithered onto the seat.
Megan breathed a sigh of relief. “Is anything broken? Bleeding?”
Archie rolled his neck and winced. “No. I’m fine. I’ve seen worse.”
“Fuck,” Jack said through gritted teeth. “That was close.” He pressed his sleeve against his bleeding lip, trying to staunch the flow.
The engine ticked as it cooled, the sound a metronome marking each passing second of their latest disaster.
“Can you—” Jack started, but he fell silent as a crowd of leathery monstrosities emerged from the cactus forest and surged toward the truck in a fleshy wave.
“Start the truck!” Archie yelled from the back seat. “Now!”
Jack cranked the key. The starter motor squealed in protest. The engine didn’t catch.
Elements of the Undead - Omnibus Edition (Books One - Three) Page 23
