Escape from Zombie Planet: A One Way Out Novel

by Ray Wallace

  Entering the parking lot, you reload the gun. And it's a good thing you do because a group of zombies manages to corral you between a couple of parked charter buses. After shooting your way out, you scale the chain link fence at the edge of the parking lot then follow the road on the other side taking you north past the station.

  You can't help but think how nice it would be to have Johnny's motorcycle with you. Not that you really need it. Even on foot, you should be able to get where you're going with time to spare.

  Although a vehicle of some sort would make the trip a lot easier.

  With that in mind, over the next half an hour or so, you check several cars but don't find any that want to start.

  The zombie population, which dropped off significantly once you left the train station behind, increases again. And with each city block you move closer to your destination, the numbers of the undead continue to rise. It looks like Jillian and Johnny weren't kidding about the danger of coming here. All you can do now is stay alert, avoid any tight places, and keep moving.

  You pass a group of buildings that were once part of a college campus then find yourself at a river with a two lane bridge spanning it. The bridge rises up in a gentle slope toward the middle, preventing you from seeing the far side and whatever awaits you there. As for the section you can see, a number of zombies wander back and forth across it. You consider turning around and pursuing an alternate route but then you hear the scream of a berserker from somewhere not too far behind you.

  I guess the bridge it is.

  Staying close to the center line, you walk quickly toward the apex, anxious to reach it and more accurately assess the situation. Halfway there, a wholly unexpected sound catches your attention, one that has you stopping and gazing at the sky.

  A helicopter appears out of the southeast, flies by on a course that will take it directly to the spaceport. You jump up and down and wave your hands over your head, trying to get someone's attention. The aircraft keeps going, though, and it isn't long before the whirring of its blades can no longer be heard.

  Disappointed, you resume your trek toward the top of the bridge only to stop once again when you get there.

  A crowd of zombies stretches away before you.

  Disappointment turns to fear but you know you have no choice but to keep the course you've set out upon.

  You decide to use the walkway along the side of the bridge, reasoning that you can always leap into the river if the situation gets too dangerous. Approaching the edge of the crowd, you summon your courage before wading into it, shooting the zombies that get too close, reloading after you empty the gun.

  This is a terrible idea.

  Just as you decide to turn around, convinced that facing a berserker can't be worse than this, the sound of automatic gunfire fills the air.

  As you watch, a pair of military jeeps turns onto the road a block or so past the river's edge, a stand mounted machine gun in the back of each vehicle. And even from here, those weapons look awfully intimidating.

  The jeeps pull up and face the zombie horde. Then they unleash hell on the ranks of the undead. Bodies fly apart and fall to the ground in rows like flesh and blood dominoes.

  Yes!

  It looks like you might make it out of this mess after all.

  Except for one little problem.

  The soldiers firing those weapons have no way of knowing that one of their targets is not of the undead variety. The sense of exhilaration conjured by the thought of being rescued evaporates about half a second before several high caliber rounds tear into you. By then it's much too late to jump into the river and save yourself let alone do much of anything else.

  CLICK HERE to start over.

  Zombies. And lots of them. They crowd the turnoff leading to the spaceport entrance, milling about aimlessly until they become aware of your vehicle, at which point they begin to move in your direction en masse. Stopping the truck, you watch as a dead woman missing most of the skin on her face walks up and bangs her hand on the window next to you.

  "So what do we do now?" asks Lindsay.

  Good question.

  "I'm not sure," you tell her, "but I guess we can't stay here."

  You put the truck in reverse and give it some gas just as another, much larger vehicle approaches from behind you. It swings into the other lane while someone wearing a camouflage military uniform reaches out of the passenger side window and waves for you to stop. Curious, you slow down and pull up next to the other vehicle while rolling down your window.

  "I guess you're here because of the broadcast." The guy speaking to you appears to be in his mid-twenties or so, clean shaven and wearing a hat that matches his uniform.

  "Yes, we are," you tell him. "Except..." You motion toward the zombies crowding the road.

  He smiles. "We pretty much cleared this place out a few hours ago. But they just keep coming back. Tell you what. If you fall in line behind us we'll be glad to lead the way."

  "Works for me."

  With that, a trio of soldiers armed with automatic weapons emerges from the back of the military transport vehicle and walks to the front of it. The soldiers move forward, opening fire on the crowd of zombies, while the transport crawls along behind them. Bodies fall to the pavement like marionettes with their strings cut as the sound of machine gun fire fills the air. One of the soldiers stops firing long enough to drag some of the bodies to the side of the road. When the transport pulls up far enough, you steer in behind it and follow as it continues to roll forward.

  Eventually, the gunfire ceases and the vehicle in front of you pulls up to the gate leading onto the spaceport grounds which are surrounded by a ten foot tall metal fence. The soldiers climb back into the rear of transport as the gate slides open. And just like that, you're in.

  You make your way over to a group of buildings maybe half a mile from the gate where you park in a lot occupied by a dozen or so cars and small trucks. The soldier you spoke to previously walks with you to a long, low building next to a slightly taller structure with a curved roof you figure must be the hangar where they house the spaceplane.

  Inside the building, the soldier leads you through a room with a long counter and several rows of plastic chairs, down a hallway to an office where a middle-aged woman with short, blonde hair wearing a blue jumpsuit sits behind a desk. After the young soldier salutes and tells her he's brought some new arrivals, the woman stands up and introduces herself as Lieutenant Anderson. Smiling, she welcomes you and your traveling companions to the spaceport. "Gateway to... Well, if not the stars, then a much better life than what you might find down here."

  And then her smile fades.

  "You're pregnant," she says to Lindsay.

  "Yes, I am."

  The Lieutenant sighs and shakes her head.

  "I'm afraid you can't go."

  After a moment's silence, Garrett says, "What do you mean she can't go?"

  A shrug. "Due to her condition, she will not be permitted to board the shuttle."

  "And why is that?" you say, unable to believe what you're hearing.

  "While leaving Earth, g-forces tend to stress the body in rather predictable ways. And they present a very real danger for pregnant women along with the life of the unborn child. As for you and the young man here... I can think of no reason for either of you not to board the plane tomorrow."

  Ten minutes later, you, Garrett, and Lindsay find yourselves in a wide room lined with cots where several other early arrivals have already gathered. The three of you move to a corner of the room and discuss your options. None of them look good.

  Night falls.

  After Garrett goes to sleep, you and Lindsay stay awake and talk for a while. She can't stand the idea that she might be the reason her brother won't have an opportunity for a better life. After much discussion, the two of you reach an agreement.

  When the time of the shuttle's departure arrives, you and Lindsay stand outside the terminal and watch as it goes racing by. Shor
tly after liftoff, the nose angles upward, the rockets kick in and before long, the plane disappears into the blue summer sky.

  Besides the two of you, everyone is gone. The soldiers. The civilian passengers who made it here in time.

  Garrett.

  He fought with Lindsay until the very end, up until she'd hugged him and made him board the plane. After finally giving in, he promised to come back one day and get her.

  Who knows, maybe he will?

  In the meantime, if you're to ever have any chance of leaving this God forsaken planet, you and Lindsay will have to work together in order to stay alive. Once the baby arrives, things won't get any easier, that's for sure.

  "We'll figure it out," you tell the young woman standing next to you. "We've made it this far, haven't we?"

  With that, you turn around and head back into the building to take stock of the supplies Lieutenant Anderson said would be waiting for you.

  And for a while, life goes on. As far as you know, however, Garrett never does return to Earth. And you never do make your way beyond the sky.

  CLICK HERE to start over.

  After spending a few moments staring into the gently rolling waters of the river, you decide to backtrack and try to find another route.

  Who knows what might be lurking down there?

  Not to mention the idea of trudging the rest of the way to the spaceport while soaking wet holds little appeal.

  Turning around, you walk back to the side street you passed a little while ago, stop at the corner and survey the way ahead before proceeding. Truth be told, it doesn't look all that promising. Even in this poor lighting, you see well over a dozen figures shambling about between the buildings lining either side of the road. Of course, you could always head further back and look for an easier way. Keep doing that, though, and you might end up where you started. So you decide to head north here, prepared to retreat if the way proves too difficult.

  You leave the corner and follow the yellow line along the middle of the street, shotgun gripped in both hands, held out in front of you. It takes a little while for the zombies to realize you're even there. But then, inevitably, they notice your presence. And one by one they move in your direction, the moaning sound they like to make getting a little louder with every step you take. Walking among them, you dodge the grasping hands of the first few you encounter, use the shotgun to push one of them out of the way, sending it sprawling to the pavement.

  "Stay calm," you say under your breath, trying to find strength in the words. "Keep moving. Don't let them get too close."

  It isn't long, however, before you realize the last part of your little plan might be of the easier-said-than-done variety. More of the undead creatures continue to emerge from the darkness as though summoned by necromancy. With a glance over your shoulder, you realize that turning around and heading back may not be in your best interest either. You've already put too many of the moaning dead behind you.

  Either way, I've got a fight on my hands.

  When a zombie grabs hold of your arm, you bring the stock of the gun up and smash it in the face. Then, with a sudden surge of movement, a group of zombies blocks the way forward.

  "You have to stay calm," you remind yourself. "Whatever you do, don't panic."

  Sentiments that fly right out the window when a ragged scream erupts out of the darkness behind you.

  Berserker.

  To your right, a pair of buildings stands to either side of an opening that might offer an alternative route away from this madness. Aiming the shotgun in that direction, you pull the trigger, watch as the blast momentarily illuminates your surroundings while tearing a trio of zombies to pieces. Then you run, passing between the buildings into a wide, circular courtyard. In the moonlight, you're able to make out several more wandering figures here.

  Dashing across the courtyard, you use the shotgun to crosscheck a zombie out of your way before colliding rather painfully with a sturdy wooden table, one of several you imagine local office workers used once upon a time during their lunch breaks. Cursing, you manage to stay upright and hobble toward a glass doorway leading into the building before you. Again, you hear the berserker scream as you reach for the door handle and give it a pull.

  Locked.

  After a moment's hesitation, you slam the stock of the gun against the door, wincing at the ensuing cacophony of shattering glass. Then you enter the building, shards of glass crunching beneath your feet.

  It sure would be great to have the flashlight right about now.

  In the surrounding darkness, you can just make out the walls of a hallway to either side of you. How far back it goes, you have no idea. Another scream informs you the berserker has gotten closer, sounds as though it's entered the courtyard. Which means it's only a matter of seconds before the lunatic zombie makes its way into the building with you.

  Not if I can help it.

  You stop and turn, taking aim at the open rectangle of the broken doorway. A few moments pass, then...

  The berserker rushes toward the doorway like something out of a nightmare, a stick figure with long, gangly limbs, a terrible screeching sound emanating from its emaciated throat.

  "Come on. Just a little bit closer."

  The zombie reaches the doorway, its scream reverberating along the hallway.

  Boom!

  The weapon jumps in your hands. And just like that, the screaming stops as the berserker - or what's left of it - collapses to the ground.

  Any sense of elation you might be feeling at this little victory is cut short by another scream from outside.

  "Oh, you've got to be kidding me."

  You reach out and place your hand on the wall, let your sense of touch guide you further into the building. Upon finding another doorway, you push your way into the stairwell beyond. It's so dark in here you literally can't see your hand in front of your face. Unable to think of any better options at the moment, you make your way up the stairs. At the third floor, you climb a little faster when the door downstairs slams open and the berserker's screech fills the stairwell.

  Finally, you reach the top where you find the doorway leading out to the rooftop propped open with a chunk of cinderblock, letting the moonlight seep in. Passing through the doorway, you head toward the edge of the rooftop, ejecting the spent shells from the shotgun along the way. You reach into your pocket for replacements, cursing when you pull them out and they slip from your fingers. Kneeling down, you grab one and manage to load it into the gun just as the berserker emerges from the doorway. As it charges, you swing the barrel of the gun around and pull the trigger.

  Bye-bye zombie.

  Only one problem, though: The insane creature brought a friend.

  Before you can reload the shotgun once again, a female berserker with long, stringy hair hanging in front of her face rushes from the doorway directly at you. Stumbling backward, you bring the gun up, trying to think of a way to prevent the zombie from getting its hands on you. Before you know it, the creature is right in front of you, screeching all the while as you back away until...

  Your foot meets nothing but air and you fall three stories to the sidewalk below.

  CLICK HERE to start over.

  Across the river it is.

  First things first though.

  You take off your shoes, toss them one at a time over to the other side of the bridge before doing the same with the shotgun shells in your pocket. The shotgun itself goes over next - you can only hope the rough treatment doesn't damage it too much. Then you make your way down to the river's edge where the water flows serenely by, dark and gleaming in the moonlight.

  You wade into the water. When it reaches your waist, you push off and start to swim. At about the halfway point, something brushes against your leg and for a moment you imagine a zombie grabbing you from below and pulling you down into a black and watery grave. When the moment passes, you assume it was nothing more than a fish or a floating piece of debris. Then, before you know it, you reach
shallow water, put your feet down and walk the last fifteen feet or so to dry ground.

  Once there, you stop and survey your surroundings, make sure there's no danger of an imminent zombie attack before continuing up the rise and onto the bridge. Grabbing the shotgun, you ascertain that, aside from a few scratches, it looks no worse than it did before you gave it the old heave-ho. Next, you find your shoes and pull them on.

  The shotgun shells have to be around here somewhere.

  After a brief search, you locate two of them a little further down the bridge. Movement catches your eye and you look up to see a small group of zombies heading your way. Not wanting to push your luck, you decide to leave even though you haven't found the third shell. A scream from somewhere behind you has you convinced that crossing the river really was the right decision.

  Anything to avoid a run-in with a berserker.

  Breaking into a jog, you move steadily closer to the spotlights in the distance that, like an X on a pirate's map, mark your destination.

  Only a few miles to go.

  If you can make it, in the morning you'll fly up into the sky toward a promise of a new and better life.

  You've seen footage of the off-world colonies on TV. Everybody has. Huge, spinning wheels floating in deep orbit around the planet, out far enough to avoid any potential contact with the thousands of pieces of space junk zipping around nearer the Earth's atmosphere. You remember, years earlier, when the huge multinational undertaking had been announced to build the colonies, how it would mark the first step in humanity's quest to move off planet and, eventually, throughout the solar system. Olympus I and Olympus II they'd been named. When people had started relocating to the colonies, you could only dream of one day going there, the opportunity reserved for those who could afford it - in other words, the very wealthy - and the lucky lottery winners who were able to join them. But now it looks like your chance has finally arrived. Too bad it only took the end of civilization to make it to happen.