Escape from Zombie Planet: A One Way Out Novel

by Ray Wallace

  The dimensions of the room beyond match the one at your back. Lacking chairs and counters, it's much more open, a space through which people were meant to move instead of gather and wait. You see no signs of movement there now, which can only be a good thing. However, recalling the events at the interstate, you know this is no guarantee of safety.

  Two of the three sets of automatic doors set into the transparent wall - looking exactly the same as the one through which you entered the building - are closed. The one in the middle stands wide open. Or it would be wide open if not for the pile of bodies crowding it. They lie there, stacked from the floor to the top of the doorway, packed in tight enough to prevent you from even thinking about using it as an exit. Out of curiosity, you move closer to the doorway, aware of a sound you've come to recognize all too well in the days since the Outbreak.

  Ten feet or so from the doorway, you stop and listen to the collective moaning emanating from the pile of bodies. This close, you're able to make out the shifting of the bodies on top, the wriggling of fingers, the subtle turning of a head or bending of an arm. You watch as a zombie lifts its head to look at you, opening its mouth then clicking its teeth together.

  You can only wonder how the zombies found themselves in this predicament.

  They must have tried to mob the doorway, you muse, then one of them fell down causing others to trip and fall in a chain reaction.

  And when the pile got high enough, new arrivals tried to climb through the entranceway but not quickly enough to get out of the way of those that followed.

  Until they created an undead barricade.

  What you know for certain is that you're not leaving the building through that particular doorway. So you approach the one to the right of it, try to pry it open with your hands. It doesn't budge. The remaining doorway proves to be just as uncooperative. And, given the nature of the glass, it's not like you're going to be able to smash your way out of here.

  The gun's not gonna do much good either.

  Besides, the noise would be sure to draw plenty of unwanted attention, possibly of the berserker variety.

  Maybe there's an emergency exit upstairs somewhere.

  Your only other option would involve going outside and over to the other section of the building where you know a good number of zombies will be waiting.

  CLICK HERE if you decide to check out the second floor.

  CLICK HERE if you head over to Arrivals instead.

  You look around to make sure Reginald's cab is nowhere to be seen then set the box on the ground and take off running. Just ahead, zombies roam the street. You cut between a pair of buildings, stomping through the deep grass, wanting to stay out of sight until you get clear of the area. Passing the rear of a building with a glass door that's been smashed in, you decide to head inside and hide out for a while, let Reginald give up on looking for you - if that's what he plans to do - and just let this whole situation blow over.

  A carpeted hallway leads past a series of offices to a lobby with a few dead plants, two long dead bodies, and a board on the wall listing the businesses that once operated here - mostly law and medical firms, judging by the quick once over you give it. Next to a stairwell door a defunct elevator stands open, revealing more bodies inside.

  The stairs it is.

  You push through the door, shotgun held at the ready, and make your way up to the third floor. A water cooler - half full of clean, clear liquid - stands in the small room that passes for the lobby here, a few paper cups remaining in the attached dispenser.

  After quenching your thirst, you notice movement along the hallway leading back to the offices on this floor. A pair of zombies, so thin it seems a wonder they've managed to stay upright this long, shamble toward you, moans escaping them and growing louder as they approach. You hate to waste ammo on such pathetic specimens, figure you could bash them with the stock of the shotgun but decide not to take the risk. The gun roars in the enclosed space of the lobby, a single shot tearing both undead creatures to pieces. With a twinge of disgust, you walk past their scattered remains toward the end of the corridor, checking the offices along the way to make sure no other zombies might be hanging around.

  Looks like the coast is clear.

  Entering one of the offices at the end of the hall, you close and lock the door behind you, glad to find the place empty of any bodies. To your left stands a bookcase loaded with legal tomes; to your right, a number of framed diplomas hang upon the wall. Directly before you sprawls a monster of a mahogany desk with a comfortable looking leather chair behind it.

  Crossing the room, you set the shotgun on the desk, circle around to the other side and take a seat. A sigh escapes you as you lean back in the chair. Swiveling to face the window stretching from one side of the room to the other, you take in the view of the nearby buildings and the street below where the dead stroll aimlessly back and forth. You half expect to see Reginald's cab go cruising by at some point but it never does. After what you'd guess to be about a half an hour, your stomach growls, reminding you it's been quite some time since you've eaten anything.

  When I leave here, the first thing I'll need to do is find a store, see if there's anything edible lying around.

  For the time being, though, you're perfectly content to remain where you are, letting the day's tensions ease out of your body.

  Might as well rest my eyes. Got to save my strength for the final push to the spaceport...

  When you open them, the world outside has gone noticeably darker. Not full dark, no, but well on its way. Cursing at the thought of all that wasted daylight, you tell yourself there's still plenty of time, that it's not worth getting upset about.

  And, besides, for someone not wanting to be seen, travelling by night might actually be the better move.

  After wandering out to the lobby for another drink of water, you pass the remainder of the daylight perusing books from the shelf in the office, trying to make sense of the legal mumbo jumbo they contain.

  All this information, completely useless now.

  As full darkness sets in, you grab the shotgun, head down to the ground floor and wander off into the deepening night. Your destination lies to the west and a bit further north.

  All I have to do is move one block north for every two blocks west I cover.

  Sounds simple enough.

  But first things first...

  You find a couple of old candy bars on the floor of a ransacked convenience store, manage to get your hands on them without having to use the shotgun. Not your idea of fine dining, but it helps take the edge off your hunger.

  Fifteen minutes or so after leaving the office building behind, something in the distance catches your eye: four beams of light, aimed at the sky. They move back and forth, dance around one another, the sort of attention grabbing display nightclubs would have used on opening night back when the world still cared about such things. Pretty easy to figure out why the display is being used tonight of all possible nights, where it's been set up.

  The spaceport.

  Seeing those lights, you experience a renewed sense of vigor and purpose. Picking up the pace, you move closer, ever closer toward the completion of your journey. The very thought of leaving this dead and abandoned world behind, of starting a new life up there, somewhere beyond the sky...

  It takes a few moments to put a name to the feeling steadily growing inside of you.

  Hope.

  Smiling, you push onward through the city, following one street after the next, evading the hungry dead.

  And then you reach the river.

  A four lane bridge spans the water before you, granting access to the far side. Or it did until someone - more than likely some military group during the worst of the Outbreak - decided to blow it up. There's nothing but a jagged opening a good twenty feet across where the middle of the bridge used to be. Moving forward, you stand at the edge, gazing down into the dark waters below. Behind you, a berserker screams, sounding a bit too close for
comfort.

  The way you see it, you can go back and follow the side road, the one crowded with zombies, try to make your way north and hope to find a bridge that can take you across the river. Or you can attempt to cross the river right here by swimming to the other side. Not the best of choices, to be sure, but one that needs to be made if you plan to see this journey through to the end.

  CLICK HERE if you decide that trying the other road is the better option.

  CLICK HERE if you find yourself in the mood for a swim.

  A deal's a deal.

  With a sigh of resignation, you approach the building. The walkway before you leads to a set of stairs that can be used to reach the higher floors. You proceed cautiously, not wanting to blunder into any zombies along the way.

  So far, so good.

  Fortunately, you reach the fourth story without encountering any trouble. And before you know it, you find yourself standing outside apartment 401, the numbers embossed in faded silver on the door. You have to fight the urge to turn around and leave, to set the package on the ground and get out of there as quickly as you can.

  Just get it over with.

  Taking a deep breath, you raise your hand and knock on the door, loud enough for anyone inside to hear, not too loud that a passing berserker might take notice. The seconds tick by and no one answers.

  Maybe he's not home.

  Just then, you see the peephole go dark followed by the sound of at least three locks being undone. A moment later, the door swings open and you find yourself staring down the barrel of a handgun pointed right between your eyes.

  "And who might you be?" asks the guy with the gun, a grim expression on his face. He wears baggy pants and a tank top revealing heavily tattooed arms. Diamond rings that, once upon a time, would have been worth a fortune adorn his fingers.

  "Um... Well, I..."

  "Go on. Spit it out."

  "I've got a package for someone named Elliot."

  "Oh, yeah?"

  "Reginald sent me."

  You hear laughter from deeper in the apartment followed by: "Come on in. I can't wait to see this."

  The guy who answered the door steps aside and waves you through the door, the gun trained on you all the while. Once you're inside, he closes the door then tells you to stop.

  "Put the shotgun on the ground, nice and slow like."

  You do as you're told. He moves behind you and presses the handgun into your back.

  "Now walk."

  The two of you make your way into the apartment's living room. Three men and a woman sit around a circular table with a pile of jewelry in the middle, playing cards. They all look up as you approach. One of them, a big fellow with dreadlocks hanging down past his shoulders, gives you a smile - light glints off his gold teeth.

  "So you've got a package for me?"

  "I do."

  "How about you set it down right here."

  He pats the table in front of him.

  You walk over and put the box where he wants it, the gun stuck in your back the whole time.

  "So Reginald decided to make things right, did he?" says Elliot as he peels the paper off of the box. "Good for him. Although it would have been nice of him to do it in person."

  He offers a low chuckle.

  "Not that I really expected him to."

  The bad feeling you've been having about all of this gets a whole lot worse once you see the metal box sitting there amid the scraps of paper.

  "Look, I don't know anything about - "

  "Don't worry," says Elliot. "I'm not one to shoot the messenger."

  He undoes a small latch on the front of the box and opens it.

  The room fills with a roar and a blinding flash of light.

  CLICK HERE to start over.

  After making your way back to the waiting area, you climb the spiral staircase, stepping over a few bodies in the process. Most of the second floor is comprised of a wide open space with several doors set into a wall over to the right. To your left, the wall is constructed almost entirely of plexiglass much like the room below - minus the automatic doors, of course. The windows grant you a view of the Arrivals side of the building across the maglev track below.

  Several displays of model train cars of varying sizes occupy the room before you. Walking among them, you see they represent the history of the American railroad, from the earliest machines that made their way across the country up through the more modern passenger trains. At the very center of the room is the high speed version that would have literally flown above the track that brought you here. It's easy to imagine the waiting passengers milling around up here, children staring wide-eyed at these representations of humankind's ingenuity. For a moment, it seems you can actually hear one of the voices from the past, uttering words just on the verge of perception. But then you discover the source of the sound: a zombie lying on the floor next to one of the displays, facedown and moaning, apparently having suffered some sort of injury preventing it from standing.

  You move toward the wall with the doors set into it. Most of them hang open so you choose one near the middle, take a peek inside to make sure no zombies lie in wait before entering the room beyond.

  It's an office complete with a desk, a couple of chairs, and a back wall made of plexiglass. Behind the desk sits a corpse in a suit with the top of its head missing. If you were to walk around the desk, you figure there's a good chance you'd see a handgun lying on the floor next to the body. Since you already have a gun and plenty of ammo, you feel no great urge to test this hypothesis. So instead, you exit through the doorway and -

  Click.

  "Take another step and you're dead."

  You stop, turn your head enough to see the barrel of the pistol pointed at your face and the skinny guy with the beginnings of a beard holding it.

  "Empty out your pockets, drop everything you've got on the floor."

  "Look, I - "

  "Do it!"

  He shakes the gun for emphasis.

  Seeing as how you're not in the mood to get shot, you comply.

  "Okay, now I want you to take three steps forward."

  You do as you're told. And as you open your mouth to say something, anything that might get you out of this situation alive, the guy smacks you across the side of the head with the gun in his hand.

  Darkness washes over you.

  When you come to, you have a hard time remembering where you are at first. Probably because of the intense pain clouding your thoughts. Then you realize you can hardly move. This would have to do with the fact your assailant has bound your wrists and ankles with zip ties, hands behind your back. Looking around, you can't see the guy who attacked you anywhere. At first, this seems like a good thing but then you have to wonder about the odds of someone else coming along and helping you out of this particular jam.

  As it turns out, they're not very good.

  Hours pass. Night falls. And you know your opportunity to leave the planet has disappeared. This becomes the least of your concerns, however, when dehydration sets in. You've heard it's a pretty terrible way to go. You never get to find out, though, because the following morning a couple of adventurous zombies make their way up the stairs. Not long after that, they find you. And after that...

  CLICK HERE to start over.

  You return to the waiting area and stand just inside the open doorway leading out to the maglev track. For a few moments, you study the Arrivals station where several figures wander among the rows of chairs arranged much like the ones behind you. Then, with the pistol in your hand, you step outside, cross the track, and walk through the open doorway at the other side.

  Just keep moving. Shoot only when you have to.

  At first, all goes according to plan. You dodge the slow moving zombies without much of a problem, easily avoid their grasping, nearly skeletal hands, ducking out of the way and climbing over chairs when necessary. The undead creatures moan as they watch you go by, the omnipresent hunger evident in their eyes - or r
emaining eye as is the case with more than a few of them. Much like the Departures station, archways at either side of the room lead into another section of the building. The one to the right has no zombies near it, so you make your way there then curse under your breath when you get close enough to look through to the other side.

  Zombies. More than a dozen of them. So far, they haven't spotted you but the excited moaning from those behind you has them moving in your direction.

  Well, you've made it this far.

  You pass through the archway then utilize more of the ducking and dodging that got you here. But there are just too many of the undead creatures to continue avoiding like this. And, by now, they're more than aware of your presence. There is one bit of good news, however: two sets of automatic doors stand open, including the ones directly in front of you. And there are no bodies stacked up to prevent you from using them. You just have to get past the walking corpses between here and there.

  Okay, no more Mr. Nice Guy.

  You raise the handgun, take aim, and open fire.

  The zombie in front of you, tall and rail thin, collapses to the ground and stops moving. As does the one after that. And the one after that. The fourth one seems to have a little more life in it, manages to do a little ducking and dodging of its own - or maybe the movements are a result of faulty motor skills - and your first shot misses. The next one, from less than a few feet away, puts the monster down. And then there's nothing but open space and daylight between you and the exit.

  Once outside, you breathe a sigh of relief despite the area's heavy zombie presence. With a lot more room to maneuver out here, you lower the gun and push onward. A roundabout in front of the building merges into a four lane road leading away from the station. Just ahead and off to the right, you see a sprawling parking lot. To your left, a short distance beyond the roundabout, the land slopes downward in the direction of the maglev track. Since the spaceport lies a couple of miles northwest of here, you make a beeline for the parking lot, knowing you'll need to circle around the train station to continue traveling in the right direction.