“Light me up one of them,” he said.
Fingers pulled a pipe bomb out and produced his lighter. “We’ve been throwing on seven,” he said.
“No offense,” Zion replied, “but I’m pretty sure I can throw on six. I want to thin them out towards the back.”
Fingers shrugged. “Six will work.” He lit the fuse and Zion started counting as he took the bomb.
When he hit six, he reeled back and chucked it, sailing through the air over the horde and nearly reaching the back end of the mass. It exploded in an epic display of glittering nuts and bolts, dropping a good number of the enemy.
“Hit me one more time,” Zion said, and held out his hand again.
Fingers lit a second one, and Zion counted again, this time throwing with a little less power. The bomb detonated a few feet above the crowd, shredding heads and torsos with the blast.
“Let’s get back to the trucks,” Zion instructed as the front end of the horde reached the fifteen-yard line. “I want everybody to move up about fifty yards to prepare for another round.”
The group gathered their ballistics and jogged back to the vehicles. On the way, Zion smacked a few heads with his mighty weapon as he came across a straggler or two. By the time they fell, a significant number of zombies had managed to bypass the clumps of their fallen brethren.
As he reached the truck, he regarded Harold, who stood behind his gun.
“This thing good to go?” Zion asked.
The gunner nodded firmly. “Whenever they’re within twenty yards, we’ll fire it up.”
“Guessing you don’t have rapid fire with this bad boy?” Zion pursed his lips.
Missy shook her head. “It’s easy enough to reload, just have to stuff another weight into the chamber.” She held up a second dumbbell.
“And it only needs fifteen seconds to power back up,” Harold added.
Zion nodded thoughtfully. “Okay, well, we aren’t going to be taking any chances.” He held up two fingers. “So two shots, we load up, and then we move back.”
“No argument here,” Harold agreed.
Missy nodded. “Me either.”
Zion smiled, appraising the gun with excitement. He couldn’t believe the death and destruction these nerdy college kids could bring to the table. He couldn’t help but admit to himself he was stoked to be bringing them into the fold back at the complex.
The horde approached, reaching thirty yards.
“Jack, fire us up!” Harold called.
His companion held a thumbs-up out the window. “Here we go,” he said, and plugged in the compressor. It sprang to life, and the pressure built up in the cannon with a sucking noise.
The creatures inched their way ever closer as the gun readied, shambling towards their braindead fate.
“Missy, you good?” Harold asked.
She was already kneeling, holding on to the makeshift wooden base that the other chained weight sat on. “Ready!” she declared.
“Firing in… five…” Harold began, and braced himself. “Four… three… two… ONE!” He hit the switch, and the gun let out a deafening BOOM.
The dumbbell flew from the gun, the three-foot chain whipping behind it, ripping the other weight from the pedestal. The spinning instrument of destruction hurtled towards the horde, sparkling in the sun as it spun.
One of the weights caught a creature directly in the face, tearing through it like tissue paper. The stretch of chain easily sliced through the rotted mass like butter, taking off several dozen heads and cutting through some torsos of taller zombies. Before it lost momentum, it had easily penetrated fifteen feet into the mass, knocking down an impressive array of creatures.
“Fuck yeah man!” Zion exclaimed, throwing his hands in the air. “Whoo! Let’s get another one loaded up!”
Missy and Harold were already loading up another shot, the mass closing in on fifteen yards away. As the air compressor powered up again, Harold aimed towards the left of the horde, at an angle.
“Firing in five…” he began, taking a deep breath. “Four… three… two… ONE!” He hit the trigger again, and the loud BOOM shook him as the chain took off like a shot, shredding several dozen zombies.
Zion let out another celebratory yell, clenching a fist in the air. “I know I just met you, but I love y’all so much right now,” he admitted, shaking his head as he stepped towards the gun. “No time to waste, though, let’s get this in the truck.”
He and Harold lifted it carefully, putting it up in the bed, and Missy heaved the wooden platform up behind them. The zombies were ten yards away, giving them some room to clamber up into the truck bed to safety.
“Jack, fire it up and get out!” Zion called. “I’m gonna pick off the stragglers.”
The answer to his call was a clicking sound from the engine that made all of their guts roil with dread.
“Battery’s dead!” Jack yelled from the driver’s seat, panicked.
“Fuck,” Zion said as hopped down from the truck bed. “Throw it in neutral and get your ass out here!”
Jack scrambled out of the driver’s seat, and Missy hopped down to take his place behind the wheel. Harold joined Zion and Jack at the back, and the three of them pushed as hard as they could. With the heavy air compressor, it was difficult to get the beastly vehicle moving, even with all of them.
“Push!” Zion urged. “Push!”
The truck inched forward, and he looked over his shoulder. Several zombies were as close as five yards away, arms outstretched and mouths open with hungry excitement. He grabbed his weapon from the tailgate and whipped around, swinging at the lead zombie. He caught it in the side of the head and it tumbled to the ground.
Zion used the momentum of the massive swing to spin completely around, weapon outstretched, beheading one creature and hitting the final nearby ghoul in the shoulder. He dispatched it with a final smash to the face, and then rushed back to the truck to lend his strength.
As the truck began to move at a semi-decent roll, Fingers and Calvin ran up from their vantage point. They lit up bombs and whipped them as hard as they could, immediately lighting up two more and tossing them at slightly different angles, far into the mass.
“What are you doing?” Zion demanded.
Fingers shook his head. “Slowing them down.”
The explosions happened rapidly, one after the other, sending rotted limbs up into the air, dropping patches of creatures. Not many took headshots, the bulk of the damage done to torsos and limbs, but it thinned them out a little bit and broke up the main bunch.
Zion grabbed his weapon again and surveyed the still hundred-strong lumbering horde, stepping back from the truck as Jack and Harold pushed it fairly well on their own.
“How many more of those bombs you got?” he asked.
Fingers counted. “Six.”
“How about bullets?” Zion asked.
The explosives expert patted his pocket. “Got two mags.”
Zion nodded. “I can work with that,” he said. “Calvin, start chucking those things as far as you can, and let them hit the ground. Fingers, you’re with me.”
The duo headed towards the front group, about fifteen, while Calvin lit a bomb and tossed it as hard as he could.
“Shoot every third zombie, and I’ll take care of the other two,” Zion instructed.
Fingers pulled his handgun and walked side-by-side with the melee fighter, towards the small pack to the side that didn’t get hit with the chain weapon.
“Say the word,” Fingers prompted, ready on the trigger.
“Hit ‘em,” Zion said.
Fingers took aim, firing off three shots in rapid succession, splitting the zombies up into several pairs of two that had a few feet between each other.
Zion lunged forward like a rocket, swinging his weapon and knocking one head into the other, the rebar caving in a skull at the temple. He easily surged down, taking out the creature on the ground. The next duo staggered towards him quickly, but he had e
nough time and space to repeat the process, this time knocking them back into another pair, sending all of them tumbling onto their rotted asses.
One by one, he stepped up and cracked his weapon straight down, smashing heads one by one.
Meanwhile, Calvin lit bombs and tossed them as hard as he could, as far as he could, explosions sending ghouls and limbs scattering on the blacktop battlefield. The trio backed up several steps to survey the damage.
Another group of eight zombies had separated from the others, and lumbered up the right side.
“Let’s hit this one real quick,” Zion said, motioning with his weapon.
Fingers aimed and fired two quick shots, clearing the way for Zion to decimate more heads while Calvin threw more bombs. By the time they backed up again, there were only half a dozen small groups of eight or less still moving. Some staggered, others crawled on the ground, their legs shredded.
“Looks like we got ‘em right where we want ‘em,” Fingers declared.
Zion nodded, impressed. “Still got a little bit of work to do, though.”
“I’m not a fan of how many of those things are crawling,” Calvin added.
Zion shrugged. “Me, either,” he admitted, and jerked his thumb over his shoulder. “What do you say we grab one of those trucks and roll through ‘em real quick?”
“Might have to hit a car wash after we’re wrapped up,” Fingers replied, “but it’s a lot better than getting bit on the ankles.”
Calvin raised a hand. “I’ll go grab us one.” He jogged off behind them.
“You did real good out here, man,” Zion said, turning to the explosives expert.
Fingers shrugged. “Not my first rodeo, but I appreciate the sentiment.”
“Well, if you ever get tired of living in White Salmon and want a change of scenery,” Zion said with a smirk, “or if you just want to blow up bigger and better things, I got a place for you.”
The explosives expert nodded thoughtfully. “Thanks for the offer,” he said. “I’ll keep it in mind.”
They stared out at the horde, something that might have been a life-altering sight a few weeks ago. Now, it was just another day in the apocalypse.”
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Calvin drove his loaner truck towards the complex with Jack and Harold in the passenger seat. Tori followed with Zion and Missy in the second truck. The beds were loaded up with stacks and boxes of goods from the hardware store.
“It’s so pretty up here,” Missy said, staring out the window at the lush trees and grass.
Tori grinned, pushing her glasses up her nose. “Helps that there are significantly less people here shooting at us, too,” she added.
“That’s always a plus,” Zion said.
Missy’s brow furrowed, and she pointed out at a few zombies wandering in the woods. “Oh, I think I just saw…”
“Don’t worry,” Zion assured her. “We got it under control up here.” He pointed up ahead, towards a trainee search party weaving their way through woods, picking off stragglers. He reached over and honked the horn, prompting a few of them to turn and wave, big smiles on their faces.
Tori smiled. “Looks like you’re quite the leader here.”
“Nah,” Zion replied, waving her off. “I’m just doing what needs to be done. If I’m being honest, a lot of this is due to my sister, Monique. She’s the one who pushed me to bring people together.”
Tori chuckled, shaking her head. “Well, I know plenty of siblings that would ignore their other half even if they were told that the stove top was hot,” she teased. “So it’s commendable that you took her message to heart.”
“Appreciate that,” Zion replied, staring at the complex coming around the bend.
Missy’s jaw dropped at the sight of the apartments. “That’s where we’re going to be living?!” she exclaimed.
“Yep, that’s home,” Zion replied, a hint of pride in his voice.
Tori’s eyes were wide. “Definitely a step up from the dorms.”
“And a really big step up from the back of a small town hardware store,” Missy added.
Tori laughed. “Darn right.”
Zion smiled, and couldn’t help but feel a little warm that he was providing these kids with a better life. He wondered if his mother had felt that way when she’d sent him to live with Monique, getting him out of the city and out of the gang life.
The caravan made its way up the drive and into the parking garage. Tori parked next to Calvin, and they all got out, the four college kids staring around at the large space.
“This is a heck of a place,” Harold breathed, admiring the solid concrete.
Jack stretched his arms above his head. “Yeah, no complaints here.”
“This is nothing,” Calvin said with a grin, twirling his keyring around his finger. “Just wait until you see your apartments.”
Harold turned to him, wide-eyed. “Wait, apartments?” he asked. “As in, plural?”
“Yeah, we got a lot of space here, although you might have to pair off. One bedrooms are running low, but we have plenty of two bedroom units,” Zion explained.
Tori clapped her hands together. “Yep, light years beyond the dorms,” she gushed.
“Now before we go,” Zion said, his voice serious, “I want to make something clear to each of you.” He straightened up, and the four kids stood at attention, staring at him. “We’re a community here,” he continued, “so we help each other out. Now, I’m not going to make anybody do anything they ain’t comfortable with, so if you don’t want to go out fighting and rounding up zombies, you don’t have to. But you will have to carry your weight.”
Harold raised a hand. “What other types of things can we do?” he asked.
“Well, for starters,” Calvin cut in, “we could really use an upgraded defense system on the perimeter of the building. Give your uh… unique skill sets… I’m sure you guys can come up with something.”
Harold and Jack immediately stepped away, inspecting one of the metal airways in the concrete to let fresh air into the garage. They could clearly see the wooded area through it on the other side.
“Yeah, we could certainly work with this,” Harold said.
Jack pointed to one of the metal posts. “Yeah, lay some track down here…”
“Rig up some metal spikes on wheels…” Harold mused.
“Air compressor again?” Jack added, rubbing his chin.
Harold shook his head. “I was thinking manual hydraulics.”
Jack snapped his fingers. “One lever pull to deliver multiple strikes…”
“That’s what I’m thinking,” Harold agreed.
Zion held up his hands. “Guys, you don’t have to start drawing blueprints right now,” he said, unable to contain a smile. “There’s plenty of time for that.”
“And, you’ll be happy to know that we have a large number of stores to pull from,” Calvin added as the boys returned. “So whatever you need, there’s a good chance we can get it.”
Zion nodded. “In the meantime though, let’s go find you a place to call your own,” he suggested. “Figure we’ve killed enough of these fuckers today.”
The kids nodded, smiles all around, as they followed him to the stairs. They headed up to the first floor, where Cheryl stood in the lobby with a few older members of the community.
“Hey, Cheryl,” Zion greeted, catching her attention as they entered. “I’d like you to meet the new members of our little family.”
The blonde smiled. “Pleasure to meet you all,” she said. “I’m sorry to cut our introductions short, but I’ve arranged for us all to have dinner together in an hour or so.”
“Oh, thank you so much,” Tori gushed. “That would be lovely.”
Jack groaned excitedly. “Finally something other than ramen cooked on a camping stove!”
“You’ve been in college how long?” Harold teased. “Shouldn’t you be used to that by now?”
Cheryl laughed. “Don’t worry, it’s s
omething nicer than ramen, I promise,” she assured them. “In the meantime, if you want to follow my friends here, they’ll take you to your new homes.” She handed over two sets of keys to the men she’d been talking with. “Apartments three-thirteen and three-fourteen.”
They smiled warmly and led the four college kids off to get settled.
As soon as they were gone, Zion turned to Cheryl. “What’s going on?” he asked. “Everything okay?”
“Oh, yeah, everything’s great,” she replied easily. “I just figured being trapped in a car for hours with college kids would make you want a break.”
He chuckled, rubbing his forehead. “You always look after me.”
“That’s why you hired me,” she replied, flashing him a thousand-watt smile.
Calvin held up a hand. “I don’t think we hired you,” he corrected. “If memory serves, you just showed up and started doing shit.”
“Because even then I was looking out for you guys,” she said, patting his shoulder.
“Speaking of looking out,” Zion said, clearing his throat. “How are the field reports looking?”
Cheryl nodded, back in work mode. “Wendy’s group was able to secure the survivors to the south.”
“Both groups?” Calvin asked.
She shook her head. “Just the one,” she replied. “There were no signs of the other one.”
They took a moment of somber quiet, and then Zion asked, “What about the trainees?”
“They were able to draw a few thousand of those things out of the city,” Cheryl reported. “They’re on their last patrol of the day.”
Calvin nodded. “Yeah, we passed them on the way in.”
“They getting any better?” Zion asked.
Cheryl shrugged. “Well, nobody died or was bitten, so I’d call it a win.”
“Best you can hope for some days,” he agreed.
“You boys get rested up,” she said, as she turned to leave. “Dinner is at my place in an hour. Don’t be late.”
Zion smiled. “Wouldn’t dream of it.”
As the stairwell door clicked shut, Calvin let out a deep breath. “It never ceases to amaze me the shit we survive day in and day out.”
Dead America The Third Week (Book 5): Dead America, Portland Pt. 3 Page 7
